Franz Berwald (1796-1868) Trio No. 1 in E Flat Major (1849) Trio No. 2 in F Minor (1851) Trio No. 3 in D Minor (1851) In Franz Berwald the nineteenth...
Franz Berwald
(1796-1868)
Trio No. 1 in E Flat
Major (1849)
Trio No. 2 in F Minor
(1851)
Trio No. 3 in D Minor
(1851)
In Franz Berwald the
nineteenth century Swedish musical establishment failed to recognize the most
original and arguably greatest composer that country has yet produced. While he
enjoyed considerable success in German-speaking areas of the continent and even
the honor of election to the Salzburg Mozarteum - an honor that no institution
in Sweden could hope to equal - he remained unappreciated in his homeland.
Franz Adolf Berwald
was born in Stockholm on 23 July 1796 to a German family that had been active
in music for a century and a half. His father was the first Berwald to settle
in Sweden. A former student of Benda and a violinist in the Royal Orchestra, he
hoped to see his son become a virtuoso violinist. Though Franz held a position
first as a violinist and later as a violist in the court orchestra from 1812 to
1828, his true musical vocation lay elsewhere.
The first signs of
creativity revealed themselves in 1817 with the composition of a now lost
orchestral fantasy, a septet (which probably survives at least in part in the
later septet of 1828) and a concerto for two violins and orchestra. The G minor
string quartet - the first of three surviving works of the chamber music genre
in which Berwald excelled - was written in 1818 and was soon followed by a
second, B-flat major quartet, now lost. Of an A major symphony from 1820 only a
fragment of the first movement survives. Berwald was a rigorously self-critical
composer and a man generally reticent about himself; it is not possible to know
whether the compositions no longer extant were indeed lost or intentionally
destroyed.
When the A major
symphony and the violin concerto of 1820 were first performed, the Swedish
critics took the young composer to task for merely seeking originality and
effect. Excessive and unorthodox modulation, lack of melody, painful dissonance
and an impression of chaos were the critics' chief complaints. Some admitted
that Berwald might have talent and urged him to learn and follow the rules of
composition, but he was impervious to their suggestions. He never doubted his
genius. In fact he intimated in 1829 that his opera Leonida, when
completed, would consign even Fidelio to the shade.
Attempts to win a
scholarship for study abroad failed in 1822 and again in 1828, but with the
financial support of Prince Oscar, a lifelong patron, Berwald set out for
Berlin in 1829. Alienated by his own outspokenness and arrogance from Sweden's
musical and academic circles, he happily left provincial Stockholm and its
dilettantish critics behind. Berlin was an important musical capital where he
expected to make a name for himself. Unable to disguise his contempt for
musical mediocrity, he again impressed with his arrogance and failed to win the
support of those who could have helped him most, including Mendelssohn. When
success finally came, it was in a different form altogether.
Though the
temperamental Berwald had little formal education, having stormed out of school
one day as a child, never to return, he had become interested in the treatment
of physical disorders by means of exercise, and in 1835 he opened an orthopedic
institute in Berlin. His intolerance in musical matters was matched by his
humanitarian generosity in nonmusical affairs. He offered free treatment to the
poor, invented therapeutic devices that remained in use long afterward and won
respect from the medical profession for the efficacy of his treatments. After six
years the now financially comfortable composer married an institute employee,
sold the institute and moved to Vienna. The year spent there was productive and
successful, and a concert devoted to his orchestral music was warmly received.
After thirteen years
abroad Berwald returned to Sweden in 1842, hoping his success would accompany
him. Sadly he failed to make much of an impression at home. Though the 1840s
were the most productive decade of his life and saw the creation of the four
symphonies upon which his fame rests, the few works that were performed in
Sweden met with mixed reaction. The Sinfonie serieuse, the only one of
the four to be performed during his lifetime, was conducted badly by his cousin
Johann Friederich Berwald, who bore him no love, and elicited the same
criticism of two decades earlier: the pursuit of originality at all costs.
And so in 1846 Berwald
embarked on a second exile that was to be the happiest period of his life. Six
months of Paris failed to win a following there, but he found success in
Germany and Austria. The election to the Salzburg Mozarteum came in 1847. The
next year one Salzburg critic ranked him with the foremost composers of the
day. Another found "the imprint of perfection" on his music and
praised its purposefulness and homogeneity. A marked contrast to Stockholm's
musical myopia!
It is inconceivable
that Berwald could not have felt bitterness and disappointment when financial
conditions forced his return in 1849 to Sweden, where further disappointment
awaited. He failed to win either an appointment to Uppsala University or the
conductorship of the court orchestra, left vacant by his cousin's retirement.
Once again the most distinguished composer in the whole of Scandinavia had to
seek a livelihood unrelated to music while the musical positions in Sweden were
filled by men of negligible talent.
Berwald became the
manager of a glassworks in northern Sweden in 1850 and was made a partner three
years later, launching a sawmill nearby that same year. He spent the winters in
the relatively milder climate of Stockholm, where his social activities
encouraged the composition of chamber music. The two piano quintets and three
of the five piano trios appeared in the early 1850s. Most were published in
Germany and were well received there. Franz Liszt found much to admire in the
second quintet and encouraged Berwald not to bow to criticism but to remain
true to his own inspiration.
The first formal
recognition came in Sweden when Berwald was made a fellow of the Royal Academy
of Music in 1864. Three years later his colleagues nominated him to the post of
professor of composition, but even that was only a qualified victory. The full
board refused to confirm the appointment and named a rival candidate, who
thought it best to decline in the face of public indignation and pressure from
Prince Oscar. Humiliated, Berwald accepted the professorship.
The influence he might
have brought to bear on Swedish music will forever remain debatable. The
following year on 3 April 1868 he succumbed to pneumonia.
He had instructed only
five pupils in that brief time. His finest works would remain unperformed until
the 20th century, when later generations and the efforts of men like Tor Aulin
and Wilhelm Stenhammar would at last bring his music the recognition so long
denied.
Berwald's lifetime
spanned a period of fundamental and far-reaching change in the musical language
that was perhaps without historical precedent. In his own highly individual way
Berwald, who was born when Beethoven was a young man and who lived three years
beyond the premiere of Tristan und Isolde, reflected some of those
changes though by no means with chronological consistency. Since nationalism
arrived late in Scandinavia and made no significant impact during his lifetime,
we must turn to the musical lingua franca, German classico-romanticism, to
discover Berwald's roots. Hummel and Spohr are discernible influences in the
early music, and from Beethoven Berwald inherited a predilection for short
motifs and the structural use of insistent rhythmic patterns. But from the
beginning an independent spirit was also at work. As early as in the string
quartet of 1818 and the violin concerto of 1820, critics did not know what to
make of the bold, seemingly wayward modulations. Since Swedish musical life was
in the thralldom of suffocating conventionality and the demands of the salon,
Berwald's eccentricities must have seemed all the more startling. Nevertheless,
assured craftsmanship and contrapuntal expertise were never lacking.
Berwald was no
romantic in the sense that Chopin or Tchaikovsky were, nor was he an innovator
comparable to Berlioz or Wagner. His was no heart-on-the-sleeve bearing of
personal emotion or the assertion of a hypertrophied ego. In spite of his
audacious experimentation, he stood (perhaps anachronistically) closer to the
past century's classicism, which better served his own emotional equilibrium,
humanity and nobility. His newness lay not in the invention of things thitherto
unheard but in his fascinating approach to musical resources already there.
That is especially true of his harmonic language, which has a freshness all its
own while rarely adventuring as far as that of Berlioz, Chopin or Liszt.
Berwald's melodies are based predominantly on the triadic intervallic patterns
of classicism. Rhythmically they show a preference for sequential repetition,
and if that is perceived as weakness in an age of greater melodic plasticity,
one need only cite Bruckner and Schumann to show that Berwald was in good
company. More significant are his fresh, spontaneous thematic invention and the
ability to create evocative moments with a striking economy of means.
In general the feeling
for structure in romantic music is comparatively weak, but it is in that very
area that Berwald made his boldest strides. As early as 1828 he experimented
with the idea of structural unity by enclosing the scherzo within the slow
movement of his septet. The procedure recurs in his farthest-reaching attempt
at integration. There, not only is the scherzo encapsulated within the slow
movement but in turn the slow movement is contained within the allegro, and
what emerges is a single structure consisting of an introduction and five
connected sections.
The earliest of
Berwald's five trios for violin, cello and piano, in C major, dates from 1845
and is still unpublished. The next three were published in Hamburg between 1852
and 1854 as Nos. l, 2 and 3. A fifth trio, again in C major, was published
posthumously in Copenhagen in 1896 as No. 4. It was composed during the same
period as Nos. l, 2 and 3, but more specific dating is not possible.
Generally speaking,
Berwald's chamber music is melodically and harmonically more chromatic than his
orchestral works, and that has been attributed to two factors. One is the
exposure to opera during his years in the orchestra pit, and the other is a
direct influence from Spohr, whose music Berwald must have known quite well.
But the composer with whom he shares the greatest kinship in the trios is
Mendelssohn. As an experienced string player Berwald wrote idiomatically for
the violin and the cello, but balancing them with the piano presented problems
that few composers after Beethoven and Schubert have resolved with total
success. Berwald seemed in large part unaware of the expressive depths that had
developed in the piano and its literature during the first half of the
nineteenth century, and the brilliant style of Moscheles and Hummel remained
his model.
Trio No. 1 in E-flat Major was composed in the
autumn of 1849. Its first movement, Allegro con brio, is perhaps the
most perfectly realized of all Berwald's trio movements. There is an admirable
balance and interplay of the instruments. Trills and pizzicato effects lend
coloristic interest, and the lilting first subject, which almost could have
come from the pen of the young Sibelius, establishes a Nordic tone rare in
Berwald's music. A bridge passage based on the first subject leads directly
into the andante grazioso, a slow movement marked by simplicity and lyric charm.
The finale, Allegro spiritoso quasi presto, follows without pause and
recalls Mendelssohn in its fleetness.
If the first trio is
arguably the finest, the second is the most problematical, exhibiting those
qualities regarded as the weaknesses in his chamber music. Fortunately they are
concentrated in the first movement, where the excessive repetition of rhythmic
and melodic motifs - a fault that also makes the Sinfonie capricieuse
the weakest of the symphonies - and difficulties with instrumental balance
obscure the Beethovenian dramatic climate that may have been Berwald's
intention. The driving initial theme curiously gives way to a scherzo-like
subsidiary idea in the first group, and a whimsical figure punctuates the
lyrical second subject as well. Any sense of ennui that this Allegro molto
movement may engender is quickly dispelled by subsequent events. The allegro
passes without break into the Larghetto, a fairly conventional slow
movement at first but one that grows into a grotesque cortège. There follows a
flowing movement in triple time marked Scherzo - Molto allegro, though
its character seems more appropriate to a finale. It is a fine movement in the
spirit of Mendelssohn, and it indeed turns out to be the finale, appended by a
coda that compresses a restatement of the first movement into a mere 65 bars.
The second trio was
finished in March 1851 and the third followed in December of that year. Fine
melodic inspiration marks the flowing Allegro non molto, which has an
overall mood of serenity, colored by imaginative instrumental writing. There
are many points of interest in the Adagio quasi largo, which follows without a
break. Here a simple melody given to the strings is underpinned by the piano in
a most unorthodox way that employs 128th notes to produce a strumming effect.
Without pause the Allegro molto finale begins with one of those
propulsive, wonderfully quirky themes that no one but Berwald could have
conceived and which proclaims a familial tie to the Sinfonie singulière.
A slower, folk-like episode that bears a close relationship to the second
subject of the E-flat major symphony's first movement intervenes, and later the
theme returns in a fleeting reference that ends a truly original work in a no
less remarkable fashion.
Ilona Prunyi
Ilona Prunyi was born
in Debrecen in 1941 and studied at the Liszt Academy in Budapest,
distinguishing herself in the Liszt-Bartok Competition while still a student.
Her career as a concert performer was interrupted by a period of ill health,
and for personal reasons and she spent ten years as a teacher at the Academy
before making her debut in 1974. Since then she has appeared frequently in solo
and chamber music recitals and as a soloist with the principal Hungarian
orchestras. Her playing has won her high praise from colleagues of the stature
of Vilmos Tatrai and Tamas Vasary.
Andras Kiss
Andras Kiss was born
in Budapest in 1943 and started violin lessons at the age of six. He studied at
the Bartok Conservatory, and from 1960 at the Liszt Academy, where his teacher
was Tibor Ney. A postgraduate scholarship enabled him to undertake further
study under M. Vayman at the Leningrad Conservatory. A prize-winner in the
Leipzig International Bach Competition in 1968, Andras Kiss was appointed in
the same year to the staff of the Liszt Academy, where he continues to teach.
As a performer he appears regularly in Hungary and has toured extensively in
East and West Europe, the United States and Canada.
Csaba Onczay
The Hungarian cellist
Csaba Onczay, awarded the Liszt Prize and winner of the 1973 Pablo Casals
Competition in Budapest, followed by first prize in the Rio de Janeiro Villa
Lobos International Competition in 1976, was born in Budapest in 1946. A
professor at the Ferenc Liszt Academy in Budapest, he was trained as a pupil of
Antal Friss at the Budapest Academy, where he won the Grand Prize on his
graduation in 1970. He went on to distinguish himself in Andre Navarra's
master-class at Siena and continued his studies at the Tchaikovsky Conservatory
in Moscow. Csaba Onczay has enjoyed a busy career at home and abroad,
throughout Europe and in the United States of America. He has recorded for the
Austrian and the French radio, as well as for Hilversum, RIAS and RAI, while
his performances of the cello concertos of Laio, Schumann and Lendvay have been
released on the Hungaroton label. Csaba Onczay plays a cello by Matteo
Gofriller bought for him by the Hungarian Government.