Anton Bruckner (1824-1896) A mediaeval artisan might easily have kept a daily record of how many different prayers he prayed and how often he repeated them....
Anton Bruckner
(1824-1896)
A mediaeval artisan
might easily have kept a daily record of how many different prayers he prayed
and how often he repeated them. For a composer of the nineteenth century, with
its belief in unstoppable progress and human supremacy, to behave in this
fashion is certainly unique. But Anton Bruckner, though accepting the harmonic
and orchestral achievements of the Romantic period, did just that; he did not
really belong to his time. Even less did he fit in with the Viennese environment
into which he was transplanted for the last 27 years of his life. The elegant
and rather superficial society he encountered there must have thought the
naive, badly dressed fellow with the 'wrong' accent a rather pathetic oddity.
Bruckner had indeed come
from a very different background. The little village in Upper Austria,
Ansfelden, where his father was a schoolmaster, was not far away from the great
and beautiful monastery of St Florian. The young Bruckner followed in the
footsteps of his father for a short time; but St Florian possessed one of
Europe's finest organs, and young Anton, whose talent for music was discovered
early, became an organist. The experience of hearing and playing this
magnificent instrument became central to his whole life. He spent many hours
there, practising and improvising, and eventually his playing was so
exceptional that he made successful tours of France and England as an organ
virtuoso. He had lessons in theory and composition, and started composing
fairly early in life, but he felt the need for more instruction in counterpoint
and became for several years a most diligent pupil of the famous Simon Sechter,
visiting him every fortnight in Vienna. Many years earlier and shortly before
his death, Schubert had also wanted to study counterpoint with Sechter, but of
course he was wrong; most of his life work was already done, and works such as
his early Mass in A flat showed him in no need of such lessons.
Sechter forbade
Bruckner to compose a single note in order to concentrate entirely on his
innumerable exercises, and here Bruckner, who had in the meantime advanced to
the post of organist at Linz Cathedral, showed one unfortunate trait of his
character, perhaps acquired as an altar-boy: utter submission to those he
considered his superiors. He obeyed. But when he had finished his instruction
with Sechter and took lessons with the conductor of the local opera, Otto
Kitzler, who introduced him to the magic world of Wagner, music poured out of
him. Now lofty, Bruckner composed his first masterpiece, the wonderful Mass in
D minor, followed by two other great Masses, and Symphony No. 1.
His reputation reached Vienna and he was appointed to succeed Sechter as
Professor of Music Theory.
Bruckner had ample
reason to regret his move from Linz to Vienna. He, the fanatical admirer of
Wagner, was innocently dragged into the rather silly conflict between the
followers of Brahms and those of his beloved Wagner. So he made many enemies,
most cruel of whom was the critic Eduard Hanslick, whom Wagner caricatured as
Beckmesser in Die Meistersinger. But though adversaries did him harm,
his friends and admirers hurt his works much more. All his young students were
gifted Wagnerians and they thought Bruckner's music needed to sound more like
Wagner, and that it needed other 'ministrations' such as large cuts as well.
They considered their beloved Master to be a "genius without talent".
Many of those
misguided admirers, such as Artur Nikisch and Franz Schalk, became famous
conductors and they set about making these enormous scores acceptable to the
public - and it must be said that the master, who was desperately anxious to be
performed, often agreed and sometimes even became an accomplice to their
mutilations, but he also left his original scores to the National Library with
the comment "for later times." His own insecurity made him constantly
revise his works, especially Symphonies Nos. 1-4. As a result, we are
confronted in many cases by several versions of the same work. Sometimes the
later versions are a definite improvement, as with the Fourth Symphony; and
sometimes, in my opinion, the first version is superior, as with the Second and
Third Symphonies.
One who deals with
eternal things is in no hurry, and therefore performers and listeners must also
allow plenty of time. Whereas Mahler, who died three years before World War I
began, was the prophet of insecurity, 'Angst' and the horrors we live in, the
deeply religious Bruckner sings of consolation and spiritual ecstasy (Verzückung)
- but not exclusively. In some of the Eighth and most of the Ninth
Symphonies, he expresses agony, perhaps doubt.
Bruckner's music
touches the innermost recesses of the human soul. In this way he reminds me of
Dostoyevsky. This quality is probably the only thing the compulsive gambler and
epileptic sinner (according to his own testimony he raped a thirteen-year-old
girl) has in common with the celibate "country bumpkin".
Symphony No. 4: "The Romantic"
Not even Bruckner's Eighth
Symphony underwent such radical changes as No. 4. Written in 1874, the
composer revised it substantially in 1877-78. While the thematic substance of
the first two movements remained identical there are great differences in their
details. Bruckner totally discarded the Scherzo and Trio and replaced
the third movement with the celebrated "Hunting" Scherzo and
its adorable Trio; the Finale, now called the Volksfest, was
substantially rewritten. In 1880 he composed yet another Finale, and
this is the version that is usually played (as in this performance). It is
considered by some to be too sombre for the rest of the work, but I do not
share this view and think it is the crowning glory of this wonderful symphony.
There is definitely a place, however, for the much lighter Volksfest. At
the same time there is also the first printed score (the Loewe edition)
of 1889. This contains savage cuts, destroying the formal balance, and a
complete reorchestration of nearly every bar.
These distortions were
perpetrated by some of Bruckner's well-meaning but misguided pupils in order to
make this enormous work more acceptable to contemporary audiences. It must be
recorded that the insecure composer, in his desire to be performed, not only
sanctioned these 'improvements' but, alas, became an accomplice, taking part in
these cruel distortions. A gentle string tremolo at the beginning of the
work awakens in the sympathetic listener a 'cosmic feeling' even before the
magical horn calls.
These are taken up by
the woodwind and soon the orchestra intones Bruckner's favourite rhythmical
pattern: two duplets followed by three triplets. The full orchestra resumes
this rhythm in great strength, then stops after repeating one remote major
chord several times. Another remote key introduces the charming dance-like
second theme. The first two quavers (eighth-notes) have staccato dots
over them, while the second pair has not, although most conductors play the
second pair also staccato. Therefore we use the following unusual
bowing:
The exposition ends
mysteriously, very softly; we play this passage, and also the beginning of the
development section without vibrato. Now the horn tune is magnificently
embroidered by the wind instruments. A proud chorale in the brass is followed
by a soft section which leads to the recapitulation, decorated by the flute and
cellos. The ensuing coda, like the coda in the last movement, is
among Bruckner's greatest. The second movement is a gentle funeral march. The
cellos introduce a noble melody, developed by the rest of the orchestra. The
second theme is an enormous song for the violas; it is accompanied by the
plucked notes of the other strings. This viola melody, which, later in the
movement, is repeated a tone higher, is of great dynamic and rhythmical
complexity. After a great crescendo in the whole orchestra the music
comes to rest in the very remote key of C flat major. Without much ado Bruckner
moves up a semitone to the main key of the movement, this time in the major. A
sad, rather austere Trio for clarinet, horn and violas concludes this
movement, with a long note in the violas. Bruckner wrote over this note a trill
sign in parentheses. Did he mean the trill was optional?
The
"Hunting" Scherzo is a virtuosic study of Bruckner's favourite
rhythmical pattern, starting a softly as possible. It is interesting that the
composer begins the crescendo earlier when the beginning is repeated
later in the movement. Also noteworthy in this harmonically brilliant movement
is a cello passage accompanied by three trombones. Bruckner is supposed to have
said that the quite wonderful Trio represents the hunters unpacking and
eating their cheese.
The lovely tune at the
beginning of the Trio was originally played by oboe and clarinet in
unison (which is how we play it) but was later changed (by others?) to the far
less characterful unison of flute and clarinet. After a throbbing crotchet
(quarter-note) rhythm in the lower strings, horn and clarinet play in long
notes a big step (an octave) down, followed by a smaller one (a third), again
downwards. This leads to the slow main tune in the full orchestra. Its
development finishes in the main key of the symphony with a quotation of the
horn call of the first movement. The tempo slows down for a most beautiful
passage in the strings in the relative minor key. A charming 'innocent' melody
in the major follows, answered by yet another happy melody. After these lyrical
passages we are confronted by most powerful sections developing the various
themes. At the end of the coda Bruckner in the earlier versions let the
horns play their first-movement call again, but later discarded the idea;
however it was put back (by others?), as in the Nowak edition. I think the
composer rightly thought that the tune had already been heard often enough.
1998 Georg Tintner