CONCERTO FOR VIOLIN, IN D MAJOR, OP. 77
I. Allegro non troppo II. Adagio III. Allegro giocoso, ma non troppo vivace
This concerto was written, during the summer and the fall of 1878, at Pörtschach on Lake Wörther in Carinthia for Joseph Joachim, dedicated to him, and first played by him under the direction of the composer at a Gewandhaus concert, Leipsic, on January 1, 1879.
Brahms, not confident of his ability to write with full intelligence for the solo violin, was aided by Joachim, who it appears from the correspondence between him and Brahms, gave advice inspired by his own opinions concerning the violinist’s art. Richard Specht, in his Johannes Brahms (1928), says that Brahms agreed to scarcely anything but “bow marks and fingering; otherwise he adhered to his text, and not always to the advantage of his notation, which has often been misread by violinists.” There was a dispute concerning the writing of “ties over staccato dots, which has not the same meaning for the violinist as for the pianist.” Joachim tried to explain this difference, but Brahms obstinately refused to alter his notation, “which was afterwards duly misinterpreted.”
The concerto was originally in four movements. It contained a scherzo which was thrown overboard. Max Kalbeck, the biographer of Brahms, thinks it highly probable that it found its way into the Second pianoforte concerto. The adagio was so thoroughly revised that it was practically new. “The middle movements have gone,” Brahms wrote, “and of course they were the best! But I have written a poor adagio for it.” Specht suggests that Brahms may have intended to save the rejected two movements for a second violin concerto, “of which he made sketches immediately after the first.”
Florence May in her life of Brahms quotes Dörffel with regard to the first performance at Leipsic: “Joachim played with a love and devotion which brought home to us in every bar the direct or indirect share he has had in the work. As to the reception, the first movement was too new to be distinctly appreciated by the audience, the second made considerable way, the last aroused great enthusiasm.” Miss May adds that the critic Bernsdorf was less unsympathetic than usual.
Kalbeck, a still more enthusiastic worshiper of Brahms than Miss May, tells a different story. “The work was heard respectfully, but it did not awaken a bit of enthusiasm. It seemed that Joachim had not sufficiently studied the concerto or he was severely indisposed.” Brahms conducted in a state of evident excitement. A comic incident came near being disastrous. The composer stepped on the stage in gray street trousers, for on account of a visit he had been hindered in making a complete change of dress. Furthermore he forgot to fasten again the unbuttoned suspenders, so that in consequence of his lively directing his shirt showed between his trousers and waistcoat. “These laughter-provoking trifles were not calculated for elevation of mood.”
In spite of Leipsic, Brahms soon recovered his spirits. He wrote to Elisabet von Herzogenberg from Vienna in January: “My concert tour was a real downhill affair after Leipsic; no more pleasure in it. Perhaps that is a slight exaggeration, though, for friends and hospitality are not everything on a concert tour. In some trifling ways it was even more successful; the audiences were kinder and more alive. Joachim played my piece more beautifully with every rehearsal, too, and the cadenza went so magnificently at our concert here that the people clapped right on into my coda. But what is all that compared to the privilege of going home to Humboldtstrasse and being pulled to pieces by three womenkind—since you object to the word ‘females’?”
The composition is fairly orthodox in form. The three movements are separate, and the traditional tuttis, soli, cadenzas, etc., are pretty much as in the old-fashioned pieces of this kind; but in the first movement the long solo cadenza precedes the taking up of the first theme by the violin. The modernity is in the prevailing spirit and in the details. Furthermore, it is not a work for objective virtuoso display.
The orchestra which Brahms requires in his symphonies is practically the same as that which Beethoven used in the first three movements of his Ninth: two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons and double bassoon, four horns, two trumpets, three trombones, kettledrums, and strings. This is the orchestration of Brahms’ First symphony (the trombones being reserved for the final movement). The Second omits the double bassoon but adds a tuba. The Third lists the same orchestra as the First. The Fourth adds a piccolo, and in this symphony the trombones are not heard until the opening chords of the finale.
To the above basic orchestration Brahms added, in his Tragic overture, a piccolo and tuba, and in his Academic overture, a piccolo, a third trumpet, tuba, bass drum, cymbals, and triangle. The Variations add piccolo and triangle but omit trombones. The concertos follow the usual orchestration, with but two trombones in the piano concertos—none in the violin concerto.—EDITOR.