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Op. 5 No 2 : 1st movment
Allegro non troppo ma
energico
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(isdn)
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The
one was like a person straight out of one of the other's fairy tales,
he who wrote himself into most of those tales. Actually he had little
room for others there either. Moreover the one was born too late. But
both sprang from the very grassroots of the Danish island of Funen, and
it was perhaps these roots that meant most to them both, coming as they
did from the almost metaphysical loam that gave nourishment to their creative
work - the only two among the millions with surnames ending in -sen who
carry the flag of the spirit of Dentnark as far out into the world as
Norway's -sen, Henrik Ibsen: Mr. Andersen and Mr. Nielsen. In the Danish
national world-famous person championship, they have perhaps only one
serious competitor, the prophet of existentialism and the least prophetlooking
of them all: Søren Kierkegaard.
But we are presently concerned with Carl Nielsen, son of Niels Jørgensen,
a youth with eyes so unquenchably bright that all who had once gazed into
them could not help but remember them for the rest of their lives. In
1883 he took the train from the town of Odense and crossed the Great Belt
to conquer the world from Royal Copenhagen, three years older than the
theatre-mad fourteen-year-old Hans Christian Andersen was when in 1819
he made the same journey for the same reasons though not with the same
means of transport.
As the seventh of twelve children in a family of very slender means, it
was perhaps not so very difficult for him to obtain permission to leave
for Copenhagen, though Maren, his mother, could not refrain from citing
Hans Christian Andersen as a shining example when her son with his recognized
enormous musical talents was about to "emigrate" from the island: "Remember
what he who also came from the island here, achieved in life.'' By then
the seventeen-year-old had already been occupied playing polkas, waltzes
and overtures - even a movement or two of a Haydn symphony as an eager
member of the local amateur orchestra, Braga. After three months instruction
on the cornet, he was engaged at the age of fourteen, to play the bugle
in a military band in Odense; his career as a professional musician had
begun.
If there is anyone whose life should be cited as having been an example
of what these days is a concept beloved of pedagogues and politicians
known as 'Lifelong Learning', it must be Carl Nielsen. And this applied
not only to his music. His reading of the great classics continued throughout
his life. When he died in October 1931, Plato's Republic, carefully annotated,
was found on his bedside table.
Why this touching upon his life, with glimpses from his childhood, in
a commentary that should be concerned with his quartets, more specifically
with the first two of them? Because one of the freshest, most sensitive,
least affected and therefore finest piece of Danish prose on the subject
of the importance of the role played by early formative years on a life
in the service of art, was written by a man named Carl Nielsen. "My childhood
on Funen" qualifies for a place among the very finest autobiographical
projects in Danish literature. In it there is not the slightest trace
of retrospective, pseudo-romantic superannuated sentimentality even though
it was written fifty years after his journey to Copenhagen. The book is
of course a work of art - a life that has been lived as seen in perspective
by a person of character over an extended period of time and certainly
not historically correct in every detail but in which we find a musical
prose scarcely achieved by any composer.
Thanks to support from well-wishers on Funen, Carl Nielsen was able to
"go at it hammer and tongs" as soon as he arrived in Copenhagen, that
is to say, the Royal Danish Music Conservatory.
He must however have worked on string quartet composition before he started
at the conservatory. He himself tells us that during his years in Odense
he took the greatest pleasure in playing quartets by Haydn, Mozart and
Onslow (the latter is hardly played any longer but was popular throughout
Europe after Breitkopf and Hartel had published some 70 of his quartets
and quintets in the 1830s). He learnt to play the pianoforte too, and
as often as he could played music from Bach's Well Tempered Clavier.
But Carl Nielsen not only wrote music, he also wrote about music and he
did this in such a convincing manner and with such intuitive insight in
his book "Living Music" that when he tells us that "it cannot be said
often enough that music cannot express anything than can be expressed
in words or be shown in colours or pictures, we believe him straight away
and it becomes quite clear to us that describing music in words cannot
add music to music. Words are and always will be a meta-language, a language
of symbols which can never undergo the metamorphosis into music. The completely
autonomous nature of music is Nielsen's main idea as expressed by him
both in words and in music itself.
What are we to believe when initially we are met with an Opus 1 that springs
to life fully developed, not to mention perfect in every detail? Can we
indeed believe that it is possible to create a work such as this at the
first attempt? Of course not. Nielsen dignified his Little Suite for Strings
by his first opus number because he felt that this was a work of which
he need not be ashamed even though he had set his sights high.
In the course of Daniel Fog's and Torben Schoubye's research in the Royal
Library archives in Copenhagen, they were able to compile a long list
of single movements, songs and indeed entire works from the period before
Opus 1. Not least interesting from our standpoint is the existence of
a number of isolated quartet movements, some from the period before the
first version of the G minor quartet which was completed in 1888. Ten
years later, Carl Nielsen completely revised it, and it was then published
as Opus 13. The earlier movements were written in the spirit of the great
classical composers. They are never performed today, but anyone making
a comprehensive survey in chronological order of Carl Nielsen's work they
should be included so as to throw more light on his development as a composer
of quartets. In addition to these isolated movements there exists a whole
string quartet in D minor, also written while he was in Odense, and thus
a work from the years before he had received the first proper formal instruction
in harmonies and counterpoint. This quartet is not included in the official
opus list of his works. Nor is another complete string quartet, this time
in F major, a quartet that was in fact given a professional performance
in 1888 though without receiving any official critical notice. The G minor
quartet, Opus 13, was completed at about the same time as Carl Nielsen
himself led the performance of his F major quartet.
During this period, Carl Nielsen was mainly concerned with studying the
great classical quartets. His special fascination with Mozart was legendary
in music circles, as among others, Thorvald Nielsen (no relation), tells
us in his memoirs. It is however symptomatic that it is not Mozart himself
that Carl Nielsen chooses as the model upon which to base his painstaking
attempts at emulation in his own quartet movements. Mozart had to remain
unsullied by his efforts in the same way as one often feels obliged to
react when face to face with the noblest and dearest one knows. No, Carl
Nielsen studied Beethoven's Opus 18 No. 1. This his first quartet was
practically used by Carl Nielsen as a template where form was concerned.
The actual process of composing seemed perhaps easier when one had no
need to worry about formal construction; that the work of composition
could concentrate with complete freedom on what he had at heart rather
than how he was to give expression to it. At this stage of the process
of his development, this was certainly a wise choice.
And what was more natural than that the young second violinist in the
Theatre Royal Orchestra should dedicate the C minor quartet to his greatly
respected conductor, Norway's own Johan Svendsen?
Several of the great man's colleagues bear witness in their memoirs to
how Svendsen as early as in the 1880s recognized Nielsen's exceptional
talent and how he gave him discreet signs that he ought rather go home
and compose than sit in the theatre's orchestra pit.
But it was not merely because of the patron on the conductor's rostrum
that it was natural that Carl Nielsen should make such a dedication. The
influence of Johan Svendsen's compositions is unmistakeable in the G minor
quartet. Maybe not directly on his melodic construction but on his style,
accentuation and form. Svendsen's career as a composer was by this time
a thing of the past. Carl Nielsen would later go his own strictly personal
ways, and already at this early stage we can recognize in the G minor
quartet unmistakeable signs of individuality, not least in rhythmic treatment
and in the closeness of the intervals in the finale. It is interesting
to note how the first symphony Cari Nielsen started to write and which
he completed 3-4 years later, takes up certain phrases from the quartet
even though it would be far from the truth to refer to the quartet as
a kind of preliminary study even though both the quartet and the symphony
are in the same key.
Today, although the G minor quartet seems to us to be in every way a traditional
work, it is already far removed from the accepted ideals of the world
of neo-romanticism of the nineties - a world that where literature was
concerned, must have felt fresh and exhilarating to such Danish writers
as Johannes Jørgensen and Sophus Clausen (whose career incidentally, closely
followed that of Carl Nielsen), but which did not have a similar effect
on the new generation of composers who still found themselves under the
yoke of the "classical" romanticism of fifty years before, with old Niels
W. Gade cracking the whip. Nevertheless, Gade, who right from the middle
of the century had been Denmark's undisputed judge of musical taste, greeted
the quartet written by the newcomer to the ranks of those desirous of
entering the Parnassus with a remark that was pertinent enough from his
point of view: "The whole work is untidy, though the untidiness is admittedly
talented".
Carl Nielsen's preoccupation during the eighties with string instruments
in gen- eral and their ensemble potential in particular was patently obvious.
All of the following works were written in the course of little over a
year between 1887 and 1888: the F major quartet which was never published,
the G minor quartet, published in 1900 (and for this reason having an
opus number as late as 13), the stroke of genius, Little Suite for Strings
(published at once as Opus 1) and the string quintet in G major with its
Mozartean complement of 2 violins, 2 violas and a cello (not published
until after the composer's death in 1937).
Chamber music at all levels gave Carl Nicisen's life both an object and
a meaning during these years. He was never to be so taken up with this
musical genre at any time later in his life, though he did greatly enjoy
playing in quartets whenever an opportunity arose. He was really in his
element during the summer season of concerts at the nunor house of Fuglsang
on the Danish island of Falster which took place for more than half a
century right up until 1959 when their organizer, Bodil Neergård, died.
She was the Danish com- poser J. P. E. Hartmann's grandchild and a passionate
music lover.
The Fuglsang seasons attracted the foremost composers and soloists. Nina
and Edvard Grieg were among the leading personalities to attend, indeed
Nina continued as a guest until way into the nineteen twenties. Julius
Röntgen, a close friend of Grieg, was the centre of attraction. In this
company he preferred to play the viola.
Carl Nielsen and his whole family were frequent guests right from the
turn of the century. Everyone was assembled there with one object in view;
to devote themselves to the enjoyment of chamber music in the Danish summer.
An important but unwritten part of the social and musical history of the
Nordic countries is linked with Fuglsang. It was here that Carl Nielsen's
quartets were rehearsed and performed under the super- vision and with
the participation of the composer himself. But his next quartet, his Opus
5 in F minor, dates back to the years before the start of the Fuglsang
seasons.
Carl Nielsen had already begun to try his hand at the large scale symphonic
format with full orchestration which he later was to handle as a matter
of course in such a masterly fashion. The work came to be known as "Symphonic
Rhapsody". Although Carl Nielsen himself wrote "Symphony" at the head
of the score, he got no further than the one movement the form of which
was strictly that of the traditional sonata. The work is still performed
now and again, but Carl Nielsen never allowed it to be published. In the
period round the year 1890, the quartet was the medium he chose for expressing
his personal sentiments in full, and there is no doubt but that the F
minor quartet represents a key phase in Nielsen's development as a composer.
The main theme of the first movement is full of a meaning that cannot
be aiis- taken. This is a Carl Nielsen-theme of finest metal, a signature
to which is also linked an anecdote of importance to musical history,
a story that is probably true but which different sources place in different
contexts. The strange thing about the F minor quartet's performance history
is that certain of Europe's foremost string quartets had already performed
it before its official first performance was given. Carl Nielsen took
it with him to Berlin as soon as he had given the finishing touches to
it in 1890, and the Joseph Joachim quartet itself, perhaps the most highly
praised string quartet of the previous century, played it in private just
before Christmas at the home of its legendary violinist and leader. When
the work was officially performed for the first time in Copenhagen in
the Spring of 1892, it was an unquestionable success for the composer,
and the quartet brought Carl Nielsen more recognition from music circles
abroad than any of his previous works. It is here that the anecdote about
another legendary figure in the world of music, Eugène Ysaÿe, turns up.
Carl Nielsen had attended one of his concerts, one source says in Berlin,
the other in Copenhagen. They agree on the year. 1894, incidentally the
same season that Ysaÿe in Brussels first introduced to the world a really
revolutionary string quartet: Debussy's. Carl Nielsen found that he absolutely
had to express his thanks for a wonderful experience after having heard
Ysaÿe's perfor- mance. When he introduced himself, Ysaÿe immediately began
to whistle the main theme from the first movement of the F minor quartet
Opus 5. In the other version of this story, Ysaÿe spontaneously takes
up his violin and plays the opening theme of the quartet. The conclusion
at all events is clear enoug: only shortly after its publication, the
F minor quartet was already well-known among musicians of the first rank.
Even though we can also find evidence of Johan Svendsen's influence in
the F minor quartet as well as one or two deeply etched imprints from
Brahms, we are presented here with the product of an artist with an intensely
personal form of expression who has something else and much more to offer
than an imitative style or attempts at achieving freedom from schematic
constraints. If we play the G minor and the F minor quartets one right
after the other, we can gain an excellent impression of the way a composer
grows in maturity. Even the building blocks, or thematic material, in
the F minor quartet are more individually fashioned and of a stronger
alloy. The intensity of the tenser passages can therefore be heightened
considerably without losing the impression of an organic whole.
The first movement is rather showy and in a mood of festivity, written
on broadly confident lines such as those one might expect to find in the
movements of a symphony. It is what is in effect an instrumental movement
for strings on a broad canvas. The slow movement, Un poco adagio, contrasts
in exemplary fashion with the Allegro non troppo energico of the first
movement with its long drawn-out lilting melody so full of warmth a movement
that might just as well have been designated "cantilena". Here, Carl Nielsen
is already in accord with his famous maxim: "One must show the satiated
that a me- lodic third is to be regarded as a gift of God" - the movement
is full of God's gifts. In- cidentally, the quotation is from one of Carl
Nielsen's polemical outbursts criticising what he considered to be unhealthy
or "überschwanglich" in certain sides of Wagner's music. In this connection,
respect for the "fundamental intervals" is seen to be the only effective
remedy for Wagnerian excesses. The perfect fourth becomes "an experience
and a perfect fifth the height of bliss. Thoughtless extravagance undermines
the health". And of course the conclusion to this is: "We see then, that
we need to maintain contact with what is fundamental".
What of the scherzo? Well, this is what we must call pure Danish. Or maybe
it is Carl Nielsen who has created the concept of pure Danish in instrumental
music by virtue of just such a movement as this. Amiable, light, but capricious
too, without a hint of ill-nature switching easily to unrestrained burlesque
buffoonery, or perhaps we should rather call it high-spirited waggish
humour? The borderline here is not always hard and fast. Peculiar to Carl
Nielsen is the way he allows the viola to sing its winsome melody without
the other three instruments bothering about it in any way. The movement
ends in a manner that is exemplary in its originality. Maybe the whole
work could have ended here with a scherzo of Mendelssohnian quality, but
that would have led to the complete disintegration of the structure of
the classical quartet form, and at this stage of Carl Nielsen's career
this was quite unthinkable. For we cannot deny that we are now and again
struck by a similar feeling - perhaps unjustifiably - about Schubert's
quartets, not to mention his quintet, that the last movement however well
written it might have been, comes as something of an anti-climax. The
distance between a work of genius and a work that is merely well-written
can as we know, be long indeed. Not so very long however, in the finale
of the F minor quartet. The Allegro molto of the last movement is heavily
charged with energy and suffiiciently well-written, but we must ask ourselves
whether a loss of interest and concentration on the part of the listener
is unavoidable.
Once again it is a Svendsen to whom the work is dedicated. But this time
it is to the Danish violinist and conservatoire director Anton Svendsen.
It received its final form during Carl Nielsen's extensive overseas tour
in 1980 and 1981 - a classic educational tour in the seventeenth century
sense. Carl Nielsen really felt that in the course of his travels which
took him through Germany, France and Italy, he had, through the medium
of the F minor quartet, found his real self and "his own tone" as he called
it. In this respect the F minor quartet fittingly takes its place among
the numerous works by Scandinavian artists, composers and writers who
went abroad in order to look for the way home and who in their state of
exile discovered the sources of their creative power. Joachim's run through
of the F minor quartet and his positive encouragement meant just as much
to Carl Nielsen and his future career and did Liszt's playing of and comments
on, Grieg's A minor concerto when he played it from the score less than
twenty years earlier. Both composers were twenty-five years of age when
they presented themselves to the world with works that represented their
definitive breakthroughs as composers. For Grieg, his concerto was what
was in fact an early farewell to the large orchestral format, for Carl
Nielsen the symphonic craze had not yet started - though craze it can
hardly be said to have been; the symphonies appeared at regular intervals
beginning in 1892, ten years between the first three, five between the
remainder.
But after 1906 he no longer wrote string quartets. And when it was published
in the twenties - he had got as far as Opus 44 - Carl Nielsen, together
with Thomas Laub, had given Denmark a priceless treasure in the form of
a collection of songs that were folk songs in the best sense of the term,
songs that almost seem to be at one with the Danish national spirit which
like Dannebrog, the country's flag, floated down from heaven into the
hands of the folk hero, Holger Danske.
August Alkertsen
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