Schumann’s trios—in D minor, opus 63, in F major, opus 80, and in G minor, opus 110—have at any rate a beauty of inspiration. They are romantic and poetic as his other works are, and the warmth of them is sufficient to melt a cold criticism. That in D minor is perhaps the best, and the scherzo, especially the middle section of it, with its smooth theme looking forward to the trio in Brahms’ first pianoforte sonata, is admirable in style.
The three trios of Brahms are masterpieces. The first, opus 8, in B major, was an early work and was revived years later and republished in the form in which it is now generally familiar. But even in its revived shape it is inferior to the two later trios, in C major, opus 87, and in C minor, opus 101, though the opening theme is of a haunting beauty, and the scherzo, suggesting that in Beethoven’s opus 97, is in piquant and effective style.
In the first movement of the C major trio the violin and cello seem like two noble and equal voices throughout. Their course is bold and free. They are never overshadowed by the pianoforte. It seems to be largely Brahms’ treatment of the cello that makes these works so perfectly satisfying in sound and style. He showed always a fondness for deep low notes. Sometimes his music suffers from it. But here, in these trios, it gains immensely. For, as we have said, one of the greatest difficulties of writing in good style for this combination of instruments is to be met in handling the low notes of the cello. Brahms seems to have done it almost instinctively. From the beginning of the first movement, with its full-throated octaves, to the very end of the whole, the cello never for one measure fails to equal the violin in effectiveness. Very often they are made to play together in octaves, and in places, as in the course of the second theme, they hold long notes two octaves apart, defining the sonority so to speak, within the limits of which the piano moves alone, filling the wide space with richest sound. Again, at the beginning of the Andante con moto violin and cello are two octaves apart. He combines them in bold chords which challenge the pianoforte, assert their own independence, as here, not long before the middle section of this andante, or at the beginning of the trio in C minor, opus 101. He allows one fully to support the other without the pianoforte, as in the Andante Grazioso of the C minor. All through these truly magnificent works one is struck by the comradeship and equality of the two strings, and this, together with the way the pianoforte is adapted to them, leads us to say that there are no trios so perfect in style as these two of Brahms. It might even be added that it would be hard to match them in nobility of content.
Mention may be made here of two other trios by Brahms in which he has shown himself no less a master of the difficult task of combining three instruments of utterly different qualities and range. One of these is the famous trio in E-flat, opus 40, for piano, violin and horn. The horn may, it is true, be interchanged with cello or viola, but only at the cost of the special tone color which makes the work such a favorite. The other is the trio for pianoforte, clarinet, and cello, a work which, together with the masterly quintet for clarinet and strings, opus 115, is proof of Brahms’ admiration for the clarinet playing of Professor Mühlfeld. Both these trios are almost unique in their perfection.
One is at a loss to mention more trios which are at all comparable to those of Brahms. It is in the main true that the pianoforte finally took such complete possession of the trio that trios were no more than brilliant concert sonatas or concertos. The Russians, headed by Rubinstein, have written many trios. Rubinstein’s, as might be expected, were far too brilliant for the pianoforte. Tschaikowsky’s only trio, opus 50, written to the memory of Nicholas Rubinstein, is one of his most impassioned works. Whatever improprieties of style there may be, its emotional force cannot be resisted. He admitted a fear that, having all his life written for the orchestra, he might not have adapted the musical combination to his thoughts. Yet in spite of the general orchestral style of treatment, this trio remains one of the most moving of all chamber music compositions.
Also among Russian trios may be mentioned that by Arensky in D minor, which is wholly delightful. The swing of the first theme in the first movement is impelling, and the whole scherzo with its touch here and there of waltz rhythms, and the fleet scales on the keyboard, are effective. Paul Juon’s capricious fantasia on ‘Gösta Berling’ is interesting.
Dvořák’s trios are worthy of study. Of the three—in G minor, opus 26, in F minor, opus 65, and the Dumky, opus 90—the last two are the most interesting, and also the most Bohemian in character. The treatment of the pianoforte is brilliant. At times the cello is used a little unworthily, that is to say, merely to accentuate low notes or to add a sort of barbaric strumming; yet on the whole Dvořák’s treatment of the two strings is not very unlike that of Brahms. There is a great deal of octave playing between them, notably at the very beginning of opus 65, in the second section of the allegretto, and now and then in the various sections of the Dumky. The cello is given long and impassioned solos, or takes a full part with the violin in dialogues. On the whole Dvořák makes more use of the upper registers; but again, in the manner of Brahms, he knows how to use the low without concealing it beneath the heavier tone of the piano. The whole section, vivace non troppo, which follows the first poco adagio, is excellently scored for the three instruments. Notice how at first the cello holds a low C-sharp, supporting the light melody of the violin and the light staccato accompaniment of the piano; how as the music grows more furious the cello adds a G-sharp above its C-sharp. When at last the piano breaks into the melody, violin and cello take equal parts in the series of sharp, detached chords which accent its rhythm. Again the melody is given to the violin, an octave higher than at first, and the cello gives an accompaniment of single notes and chords, while between the two the piano plays the whirlwind. After all this subsides, the cello rises up from the deep in a broad solo cadenza. It must be granted that the musical value of the notes allotted to the cello in this section is not high; but the point is the admirable spacing of the three instruments which allows each to display a peculiar sonority and all to join in a rich and exceedingly animated and varied whole. Elsewhere in these trios there is a fine polyphonic style. Much of the vitality of the music comes from the vivid nature of the national rhythms and melodies out of which it is constructed. These trios, then, are hardly comparable to the classic trios of Brahms. Yet they seem to be the most effective and the most successful trios that have been written since Beethoven, with the exception only of Brahms’ two and Tschaikowsky’s one.
The French composers have not given much attention to the trio. César Franck’s first works were three short trios, but they are without conspicuous merit. Two trios by Lalo are pleasingly scored. Among the trios of Saint-Saëns that in E-flat major, opus 18, is the most effective. The pianoforte part is especially brilliant, yet does not throw the combination out of adjustment.
II
There are more brilliant and more distinguished works for the combination of pianoforte, violin, viola, and cello. Inasmuch as one of the difficulties in writing trios is the wide spaces between the natural registers of cello and violin, and this is here filled up by the viola, the pianoforte quartets of the last fifty years maintain a higher standard than the trios. Moreover the general effect is more satisfactory, because the three strings have naturally an independent and complete life, and are more equal to withstanding the onslaughts of the pianist.