The Naples Conservatoire produced Gaetano Braga, born on June 9, 1829, at Guilianuova in the Abruzzi. He was originally destined for the church, but the inclination for music came out so strongly that he could not be kept back from it. His parents now wished that he should be educated as a singer; he, however, decided for the violoncello, on which Gaetano Ciandelli directed his studies. He soon became a pupil of Mercadante for composition. In the year 1852 he had finished his studies at the Conservatoire. Soon after he undertook a concert journey to the North of Italy, and from thence to Vienna, where he formed a connection with Mayseder, and was a member of his String Quartet for a short time. In 1855 he betook himself to Paris, where he was much in request as a favourite solo player. He is at present living in Florence. As a composer Braga devoted himself by preference to stage compositions. For the violoncello he only wrote a Concerto, and some smaller pieces with piano accompaniment, and a Serenade for voice with cello accompaniment.
Other Italian violoncellists at the present time worthy of notice are—Ronchini and G. Magrini in Milan, Pini in Venice, Serato in Bologna, Toscanini in Parma, Sbolci and Castagnoli in Florence, Furino in Rome, Centola in Naples, Montecchi (who lives at present at Rennes in Bretagne as a music teacher), and Mattioli, now in Cincinnati.[100]
V.—GERMANY
German violoncello playing had, during the second half of last century, found unusual opportunities for expansion in consequence of the demand for numberless competent artists for the various princely households, as well as for the larger towns. Amongst the cellists mentioned in the second part of this work, there were already some specially prominent personages to distinguish. The branch of art, however, to which this book is devoted first received a really important and sustained impulse through means of Bernhard Romberg. This artist acquired for German violoncello playing a significance similar to that which Louis Spohr gained for German violin playing, only with this difference—that the latter master was far superior to the former as a composer. While certain violin compositions of Spohr (not to speak of his other works), on account of their intrinsic worth, are calculated to appear in concert programmes, and will presumably do so in the future, the cello pieces by Romberg have already for some time completely disappeared from them. Yet they have, from a scholastic point of view, proved to be of value even to the present day. In regard to this, what Romberg did for the cultivation and perfecting, as well as the fine manipulation of his instrument, merits for him the appellation of founder of the German school of violoncello playing. His Concertos and concert pieces have been of more importance, however, for taking such a direction than his violoncello school, which by no means belongs to the best instruction books of the kind, and is a proof that a man can be a distinguished teacher—and Romberg was in any case this—without having the capacity for the production of a thoroughly satisfactory instruction book. The examples and music pieces in Romberg’s violoncello school are indeed excellent, but some of the maxims which he enunciates seem peculiar, and he goes too much into extraneous matter, instead of bringing forward the more substantial principles with the necessary precision and accuracy.
It is noteworthy that Romberg advocated a simplified notation for violoncello music. Primarily (besides the bass clef), in Italy and Germany, only the tenor clef was used, and the alto clef in France. But as the compass of violoncello playing was more and more extended up to the high parts of the scale, by the use of the thumb positions, keys used for the discant and violin were added. Boccherini, for the notation of many of his compositions, made use altogether of five clefs, sometimes indeed in one and the same piece—as, for example, at the opening Allegro of his Concerto (C major). There was nothing arbitrary in this procedure. Boccherini had far more in view the object of giving to the player starting-points for the finger positions to be used in each case. In his later compositions, however, he abandoned this, as the use of so many different clefs had its inconveniences; and he restricted himself to the use of the bass, tenor, and violin clef. This notation was subsequently generally accepted, particularly also by Romberg, and is still in use up to the present time. In opposition to the earlier favourite manner of writing the notes—by the use of the violin clef an octave too high for the violoncello, as is the case in Mozart’s and Beethoven’s compositions—Boccherini, by the application of the clefs mentioned, wrote everything as it would sound. By this means he gained the advantage that he was not obliged to make so much use of ledger lines in the writing of his passages—which were continually moving in the soprano part—as he must have done if he had followed the custom of his contemporaries and had adhered to the higher system of notation. It is readily understood why Romberg in his cello school should declare himself in favour of the change introduced by Boccherini, for he also, with special predilection, made use of the higher regions of the fingerboard for his playing; wherefore it was said of him that his handling of the violoncello was often after the manner of the violin. From this point of view it is thoroughly rational that Romberg, in regard to notation, should follow the example given by Boccherini. In later times the too frequent and continuous use of the soprano clef—in which a broad, energetic volume of tone, full of expression, is nearly excluded—has been abandoned without, however, being neglected entirely; while to the most beautiful and effective clef—namely, the tenor—has been accorded its right place.
Bernhard Romberg was the son of the bassoon player, Anton Romberg, of some note in his time, and was born on November 11, 1767, in the village of Dinklage, near the little Prussian town of Quakenbrück. It is unknown whom he had as teacher for the violoncello. It was probably an orchestra musician in Münster, to which place his parents had removed their home. In any case, Romberg’s talent caused him to make the most of it, for before he had passed his youth he was able to undertake with his cousin, Andreas Romberg,[101] who was about the same age, a concert tour which led them through Holland, and was extended to Paris, where they were both heard with such success in the house of Baron Bagge[102] that they were engaged in 1787 for the “Concert Spirituel.” After his return from Paris Romberg devoted himself eagerly to progressive studies, and at the same time worked in the orchestra at Münster.
Münster belonged then, as is known, to the Electorate of Cologne. The Elector Maximilian Franz, who on his accession to his dominions (April 27, 1784) resided often in the Westphalian town, had his attention drawn to the two Romberg artists, and engaged them for his Royal band at Bonn. The announcement of the appointment bears the date of December 19, 1790.
When the Elector, in the autumn of the following year, went to reside at Mergentheim, then the seat of the German order—whose Grand Master he was—he caused about twenty members of his band to follow him from Bonn. Amongst them, besides Beethoven, who in addition to his office as organist was also tenor player at the Court, were also the two Rombergs. In one of the musical entertainments which took place in the apartments of the Elector, Bernhard Romberg was heard in a Concerto. Boszler’s Musical Correspondence of the year 1791 contains a notice of it in which is said[103]: “Romberg, the younger, combines in his violoncello playing extraordinary rapidity with charming rendering; this rendering is the more marked and decided when he is heard in connection with the greater number of violoncellists. The tone which he produces from his instrument is, moreover—especially in the expressive parts—extremely clear, firm, and penetrating. Taking into consideration the difficulty of the instrument, a thoroughly marked purity of tone, in the extraordinarily quick rendering of the Allegro, must be attributed to him in the highest degree. Yet this after all is mere mechanical readiness; the connoisseur has another standard by which he measures the greatness of artists; and this is, the manner of playing, the perfection of expression or the spiritual interpretation. Once on this point, the connoisseur will pronounce in favour of the expressive Adagio. It is impossible more deeply to penetrate into the more delicate hues of feeling—impossible to colour them with more variety—to enhance them, moreover, by greater light and shade—impossible to hit more exactly the very tones through which this feeling has utterance, tones which appeal more directly to the heart than Romberg succeeds in doing in his Adagio.”
“How acquainted he is with all the beauties of detail, which lie in the nature of the piece in the peculiar kind of expression to be given, and for which the composer has no signs for recognition? What effects he is able to produce by the crescendo of his tone, swelling up to the strongest fortissimo, and then again by its dying away to a scarcely audible pianissimo!!”