The Pianoforte Quartet of Brahms in C. Minor, Op.

60
Author(s): Daniel Gregory Mason
Source: The Musical Times, Vol. 74, No. 1082 (Apr., 1933), pp. 311-316
Published by: Musical Times Publications Ltd.
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April, 1933 THE MUSICAL TIMES
rather than merit. There are from time to
time disquieting rumours of appointments of
the kind. Posts of such public importance
should be filled either by open competition or
by election through some accredited body: in
either case, the appointments are matters of
general interest as well as important, and
should be publicly announced.
Finally, musicians and the B.B.C. alike must
endeavour to see one another's point of view.
The development of broadcasting has been so
rapid and its popular success so overwhelming
that the Corporationmay be excused for having
The Pianoforte Quartet
in C minor, Op.
By DANIEL GREGORYMASON
THE third Pianoforte Quartet is one of the
most puzzling problems offered to the
student of Brahms's chamber music.
Though it was not published until 1875, twelve
years after its two companions, it is in many
respects less mature than they. Indeed, had
we no external evidence about it, internal
evidence alone would oblige us to regard it as
a curious throw-back, in the work of the forty-
year-old Brahms, to a style more youthful
than that of his thirties-a piece of atavism
occurring strangely late. Knowing nothing of
the history of the score, we should find in it a
mixture of styles hard to explain. The very
first page*, with its Beethoven-like big unisons
of the pianoforte (beginningof Ex. 1,see p. 313),
inaugurating the two chief phrases, and with
its later mysterious pizzicato E's, followed, as
Beethoven might have followed them, by the
sudden impetuous downward scale, would take
us back to the Brahms of the early orchestral
serenades. Then, as we fingered over the
score, we should note many other imperfectly
assimilated elements of style-the galloping
triplets that break into the second theme, and
recall the operatic features of the G minor
Quartet; the folk-songish sixths so oddly mated
with them; the Lisztian bombast of the B major
section in the development (see Ex. 2, p. 313);
the turgid perorationof the movement, in which
chamber music style falls victim to pianoforte
virtuosity.
In the slow movement, while we should be
poor creatures if we let a change of fashion
since its day make us indifferent to the real
romantic feeling of its song theme (Ex. 4),
we should none the less feel that the syncopated
accompaniment and the cloying chromatics of
the cadence savoured more of Massenet than
of Brahms. The Straussian cadence of the
* The page referencesare to the EulenbergMiniatureScore.
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311
got a bit above itself,, so to speak. Hence,
perhaps, its touch of pained astonishment on
finding that so many musicians balance their
appreciation of the potential benefits of broad-
casting with a no less keen realisation of its
dangers to the art. If the Corporationcan be
persuaded that those dangers exist, the first
step towards their avoidance will be taken;
for it will then see the necessity of availing
itself of what it may have for the asking-the
help of the best brains and organizing ability
in the profession.
of Brahms
60
third page of it would make us smile, but our
smile would be only one part amusement to
three parts pleasure. The genuine and lovely
Brahms of its second theme, piano, moltodolce,
especially in its heavenly return at the end
(Ex. 5), would make us supremely happy
only for a moment, before the Finale came to
complete our mystification by its mingling of
scholastic counterpoint in the first theme with
a chorale for third theme that might have
come out of a Tchaikovsky symphony or a
Liszt tone-poem, and that touches the false
sublime. What, we should ask ourselves, is
Brahms, the Brahms who has already achieved
the clean distinction of the second Sextet,
doing in all these galleys ?
In this quandary we should find it helpful to
turn for a moment to the scraps of external
evidence available, fragmentary and sometimes
difficult to interpret as they are. From them
we should learn two highly significant facts.
First, the C minor Quartet (like the Op. 8
Trio, the Pianoforte Quintet, the first Piano-
forte Concerto, and the first Symphony)
is a work that Brahms kept by him for
years, and revised over and over again,
in a magnificent effort to clarify its original
turgidities, to rescue the statue within it, so
to speak, from all the superfluous marble that
cloaked its outlines. Second, he never quite
convinced himself that he had succeeded. He
treated the piece somewhat as a solicitous
parent treats a crippled child. In his in-
securely suppressed sense that it was not a
complete success he even permitted himself
those biographical confidences as to its ' mean-
ing,' natural enough to more sentimental com-
posers, but always rigorously avoided by him
in the case of works sufficiently achieved to
speak for themselves. The facts in the case
are as follows.
 312 THE MUSICAL TIMES
As early as April, 1854-that is, when he
was not yet quite twenty-one-Brahms brought
to his friend Joachim in Hanover the sketch
of a pianoforte quartet. It was in C sharp
minor, and consisted of an Allegro, very likely
on the themes of the one we now have, a slow
movement, probably (though not certainly)
the present one, and a Finale, which was not
the one we know. There was no Scherzo. The
two friends rehearsed it, were dissatisfied with
it, and decided that Joachim should keep it by
him for further criticism. He soon wrote
Brahms: 'The Quartet, with its austere
earnestness in the first movement, its inward
and deep Andante, and the urgent passion of
its concise Finale, I have often gone over,
always with new joy . .. . hat bold, deep art
and power of composition are in the first
Allegro. Truly astonishing! I must not
speak of revisions until I hear it again, properly
played.' He did nevertheless suggest a few
changes, to which the composer gave, as
always, careful consideration.
In the following autumn, October, 1854,
ClaraSchumann wrote in her journal: 'Brahms
has composed a wonderful Adagio for his
C sharp minor Quartet-full of deep feeling.'
Are we to suppose that this was a new slow
movement, different from the one known to
Joachim ? Not necessarily, argues Altmann
in his Preface in the Eulenberg Edition; it is
quite possible that it was the same, which
Brahms had simply not hitherto shown to
Clara.* In any case, the movement shown to
Clara as early as October, 1854, is probably
essentially the one we know. Quite aside from
its key of E major, unusual, however effective,
in a quartet in C minor, but very natural if
taken over from one in C sharp minor, its
whole emotional character suggests the 'fifties,
the ' Sturm-und-drang' period of the youthful
Brahms. We need not necessarily agree with
Kalbeck that the entire Quartet reflects
Brahms's love for Clara Schumann at the
time of Robert Schumann's illness and death,
' the violent upheavals of feeling,
going beyond
the bounds of friendly affection and faithful
devotion,' which he was obliged to crush down.
Nor need we hear with Niemann, in the slow
movement, his 'soft, fervent avowal of un-
spoken love.' The value of the music, in any
case, would not depend on such interpretations.
Nevertheless the general tone of youthful feel-
ing in the work is unmistakable. What is
more, it is not unlikable, once we associate it
with the twenty-year-old youth, even in the
sentiment verging on sentimentality of the
slow movement. Whatever irreconcilable
elements may have later come into the Quartet,
* In the Eulenberg score, the English translation of Altmann's
opinion is misleading: 'We must not infer that this is the same slow
movement known to Joachim.' Here is what the editor says, liter-
ally translated from his German text: 'I must not conclude from this
that the Adagio was essentially different from the one known to Joachim.
Verv likely Brahms had not hitherto shown this slow movement to
his friend [Clara].'
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April, 1933
that one 'cello theme at least breathes pure
boyhood romance, the romance we find in the
slow movements of the F minor Pianoforte
Sonata and the B major Trio.
Two years later, in November, 1856, Brahms
again studied the Quartet with his friend
Joachim; and again his curious mixture of
satisfaction and dissatisfaction with it may be
read between the lines of a letter to Clara
Schumann: ' It seems,' he writes, ' to be very
hard to play. Can you study and practise it
for some time ? Otherwise it will sound
abominable ... I wish often enough,' he con-
tinues with the self-preoccupation of boyish
romanticism, 'I wish often enough that I
could send you sometimes letters as lovely and
as full of love as yours. I am a fellow of
straw, and do not deserve that you should so
hold me in your heart, dear, noble Clara.'
Here certainly is a strong suggestion that
Brahms himself, in the early days, associated
this Quartet with his youthful, ill-fated love
for Clara. Yet we shall hardly be surprised
that, as their experiences widened and their
paths diverged, he came to regard even his
own romance with a touch of that sardonic
humour he always had in pickle for the
romantic weaknesses of others. Though he
kept the Quartet by him for over twenty years,
and gave first and last an extraordinary
amount of pains to its revision, the terms in
which he refers to it in his letters (as he is fond
of doing) are usually half serious, half ironical.
'Imagine a man,' he writes to Deiters in 1868,
describing the first movement, 'for whom
nothing is left, and who wishes to put an end
to himself.' In later letters he makes more
precise the association between this music and
the self-destruction of ill-fated lovers by
references, couched in whimsical language in
order to disguise the feeling behind them, to
'the man in the blue coat and the yellow waist-
coat '-that is, to Goethe's Werther, type for
all Germans of the unhappy lover. Thus in
sending his friend Billroth his manuscript as
it exists in 1874, he describes it as ' a curiosity
-an illustration for the last chapter in the
life of the man in the blue coat and yellow
vest.' Even on the verge of publication, in
the autumn of 1875, he writes to his pub-
lisher: ' On the cover you must have a picture,
a head with a pistol pointed towards it. Now
you can form an idea of the music! For this
purpose I will send you my photograph ! Blue
coat, yellow breeches and top-boots would do
well, as you seem to like colour-printing.'
In the summer of 1875 he made radical
revisions in preparation for publication. He
changed the key from C sharp minor to
C minor, inserted as second movement the
present Scherzo, which by its cadence in
C major prepares the way for the slow move-
ment in E major, and replaced the original
Finale by a new one. Even this, we may infer
April, 1933 THE MUSICAL TIMES
from the much newer music paper used for
the last few pages of the original manuscript
in the possession of the Gesellschaft der Musik-
freunde in Vienna, was probably subjected to
further revision. In the fall he was still in
Ex. I
T'HEME I
Allegro non troppo
, ~-
F-I"4
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* LaK^
f (Piano)
: -
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j j;
THEME II
r r F K:F
I 9
his usual divided mind about his work. 'I
had a good rehearsal of the Quartet,' he writes
Simrock, his publisher, 'and would have sent
it to you the next day if I had known your
address.' Yet he goes on to say:
'[summer]
Peters gives me for a piece like this a thousand
thalers. It is not worth that, but what is
that to me? I do not judge it, I wash my
hands. One advantage the piece has. What-
ever you think of my talent I can excuse.
Whether you think me decrepit and Philistine
or the opposite, I now first learn certain things
-the Quartet is half old, half new-the whole
thing isn't worth much!' In the proofs
Brahms made still further corrections, altering
the opening page. Not even he had ever
carried revision to a more heroic pitch. And
yet, alas, for all his heroism, the resulting
work, as he said, was half old and half new.
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313
It we return now to the internal evidence,
to the score itself, we shall be better able to
disentangle its contradictory indications. We
shall begin to understand why it so oddly
weighs down its moments of freshest youthful
Vi~ I-I
JlLjJ1hjL1-W.
r rqr rrf<
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J j X
j t
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r
charm with a monotony of rhythm and a
pretentiousness of expression that remind us
of the early version of the Op. 8 Trio-why
the really great technical skill it already shows
is yet often not sufficient to make truly
memorable musical thoughts it can manoeuvre,
but not lift above academic routine. This is
particularly seen in the Scherzo and the Finale,
the two dullest movements. The Scherzo
theme, despite some fine suspensions towards
its end (through p. 24) has on the whole a
busy, braggadocio air that seems conventional
compared with the originality of, say, the
G minor Quartet Intermezzo or the Pianoforte
Quintet Scherzo. Its contrast, on p. 22, is one
of the few rhythms in Brahms that look well
but sounds fussy. The Trio theme is rather a
scholastic bit of double counterpoint, not
much more worth while in itself than what our
314 THE MUSICAL TIMES
irreverent friend called the ' scrap-basket
theme' of the Scherzo of the A major Quartet.
It is only toward the end of the movement
that Brahms, largely through sheer technical
skill, succeeds in building up his fine suspen-
sions, now given to the strings, into a really
impressive climax, clinched by those long-held,
savage trills.
Ex. 3
LL
(bbbu-ri^rtLULrLraLLrLrr
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-U,rffjT -3 -
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JT JT
The same impression of rather intractable
themes, not to be vitalized even by the grow-
ing skill of the young master, is deepened by
the Finale. Somewhat perfunctory, for all the
finger exercise it affords the pianist, seems the
main theme. The second quite fails to achieve
the salience, to say nothing of the contagious
excitement, which that of the Finale of the
third Symphony builds out of the same rhythm
of threes against twos. Thus the only theme
here that seems to have individuality is the
Ex.4
pocof esfress. (left hand above)
(t:#*#*} ;(?f;p^a~is r " I i-
chorale-like conclusion theme which, as we
have already noted, sounds far less like any
Brahms (other than the self-conscious youthful
one) than like some attitudinizing, over-life-
size moment of Tchaikovsky or Liszt. It
seems, from the start, less a sincere expression
than a ' plant,' put in with an eye to effective
peroration; and accordingly we are hardly
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April, 1933
surprised, but only sorry, when in the coda,
where Brahms for once falls below instead of
rising above himself, the pianoforte tears it to
shreds, while the strings interject their
increasingly frequent triplets, building up the
climax ' as per specification '; and we realise
that this is essentially orchestral or operatic
music, only masquerading as a quartet.
E
Sr
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1Y ^
J~~~~~~~~f
ff i ma< I
Immeasurably better than the Finale as the
first movement is, it does not entirely escape
the same faults. Its general tone is the same
melodramatic one we find in the first version
of the B major Trio, often verging, especially
in the coda, on turgidity. What is even more
serious, its themes, again like those of the
early Trio, lack salient rhythmic contrast, and
show little of the magnificent dynamic capacity
to evolve that we associate with the mature
Brahms. They are shown in Ex. 1; and
.J
while the second has charm, and rivals those
of the slow movement in its power to haunt
our memories, it is thetic like the first.
Both are thus too similar for either to stand
out strongly. The result is that in the sequel
neither takes the reins into its own hands and
goes rejoicing on its inevitable way ; the com-
poser has to stand constantly behind them
April, 1933 THE MUSICAL TIMES
with whip, spur, or goad. Here is what he
gets from theme No. 1 (see Ex. 2): a poor,
empty' development' trying to make up in
emphasis what it lacks in musical interest
and sincerity. The treatment of the second
theme, on p. 14, albeit happier, falls into
equal rhythmic blocks more Grieg-like than
Brahmsian.
On the other hand, even with this material,
which one fancies the Brahms of the 'seventies
took over from the 'fifties largely through
motives of sentiment, his maturing technique
; (ioli.
(i I) J .E
U ' r.
., 3'- r^
mhh jfi i r
in composition suffices to achieve some splendid
moments. Wherever the themes re-create
themselves in his later manner we feel a new
power carrying them forward. Such a place
is the quiet beginning of the development,
with its kaleidoscopicre-groupingof harmonies.
Such another is the very end of the coda,
where after the turmoil dies away, the gentle
conclusion theme first heard at the end of the
exposition, in E flat, is now modified to bring
a noble if gloomy cadence in somberest
C minor.
The finest passage of all, one which fully
measures the composer's mature power, is the
gradual return to the recapitulation beginning
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315
with the restless triplets in the bass of the
pianoforte at the bottom of p. 10.
The figure centres on low G; and through a
whole page of dominant pedal-point, pressing
ever onward, it and its attendant harmonies
are so contrived that its spread continually
increases, until, in the culminating moment
that lasts two measures, all four instruments
unite to beat out their fortissimo G's. Then
by a true inspiration the whole mass boldly
rises a semitone, to A flat, and over this, as the
submediant of C minor, comes the modified,
..(s L
70 r r
.
the really transformed, recapitulation of the
main theme (Ex. 3). Here the tone-master of
the 'seventies looks over the shoulder of the
youthful but stammering poet, his alter ego,
and for a moment holds the pen.
The slow movement, of course, is the essen-
tial heart of the C minor Quartet-that lovely
outpouring of youthful sentiment so naive and
so full-throated that we almost welcome its
traces of sentimentality as vouching its
untouched genuineness (see Ex. 4.) Its second
theme, quite free from the over-ripeness of
the first, slender and wistful as youth, is
the high point of the whole work. Those
lovely hesitant chromatics in the violin,
316 THE MUSICAL TIMES
at the bottom of p. 36, so delicately relieved
against the clear treble triplets of the piano-
forte-the continuation where against the wide
deliberate arpeggios of the pianoforte the
strings sigh their unanswered questions-and
then the return, in softest treble sonorities,
with no bass but the viola: all this is the
unique, the incomparable Brahms, the Brahms
that, whether in the slow movement of the
first Trio or the variations of the last Clarinet
Sonata, seems timeless and perfect. The last
page of this movement, where the same
hesitantly questioning theme, coupled now
with the opening notes of the 'cello's song,
takes leave of us, is one of the most individual
pages in the entire chamber music (see Ex. 5).
Concluded
from March, 1933, issue,p. 216
Art and Life, their
Independence
Interdependence
By W. S. DREW
II-MAINLY SYNTHETIC
T HE qualification'good musicianship' intro-
duces some interesting points for dis-
cussion. The term can be understood in
more than one way, and anyone is liable to
become confused unless he makes quite clear to
himself whether he is applying the term in the
world of art or the world of technique. The
matter can be put more clearly by an example.
The audience do not care whether the singer is
reading his stuff at sight or whether what they
hear is the result of hours of laboriousstudy, but
the instrumentalistswho have attended the same
rehearsalmay care a great deal and often express
themselves freely on the subject. In the same
way scenery skilfully painted upon flimsy
material may be a source of delight to the
audience and merely a stimulus to blasphemous
invective on the part of the stage-carpenter.
Music,as an art, is entirely concernedwith effects
upon the sense of hearing: it obviously belongs
to the world of sound. But the convenience of
recording it upon something more permanent
than the air, by means of visual signs, is so
enormous that the fundamental nature of music
is often forgotten, insomuch that a good
musician has been defined as one who can hear
with his eyes. The power of rapidly interpret-
ing visual signs so that they call up the corre-
sponding sound-ideas in the mind of the reader
(either as sound-memories themselves or to be
againre-translatedintothe muscularmovements
that correspond to the producing of the sound
by an instrument or the voice) is undoubtedly
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April, 1933
One can understand that the mind capable
of achieving such a miracle of beauty as this
could not but be a severe critic of its own less
inspired imaginings. One almost wonders
whether, blowing hot and cold as Brahms did
about this Quartet through two decades, he
did not finally save it for this one page.
Probably not; and certainly it has manifold
other interests for the student of his works.
Tireless revision, the artist's virtue, cannot,
any more than any other virtue, always
triumph. The C minor Quartet may stand in
our minds as in large part one of those noble
failures which, as all good workmen know,
underlie and prepare the successes which alone
the naive public acclaims.
and
(continued)
one of extreme importance. This rapid power
of interpretation depends upon a connection
between the sight and hearing centres in the
brain. This connection, however, may be quite
highly developed without the artistic powers in
connection with either the eye or the ear
being themselves highly developed, so that
occasions are by no means uncommon where
the fluent reader is a dull player. In the play-
ing of keyed instruments also, where the notes
(as far as pitch is concerned) are ready-made,
the arrival at a fairly high degree of skill does
not even imply a good ear. The success of
many reputed good vocal sight-readers is only
apparent: the time-values are right and they
do not attempt to sing a fourth when a fifth is
written. But what many of them do sing is
neither one nor the other to an accurate ear,
and the general artistic and musical result is
of little value. There are certain lack-of-
technical-trainingexcuses that can be made for
the slurred inaccurate intervals that many
'musicians' producein their vocal sight-reading,
but the chief reason is one that would be met
with indignant denial, namely, that their ears
have not been properly trained. In the days
when I was taught the pianoforte it was ap-
parently a crime to possess an ear. The sense
of sight was sufficient to tell which notes had to
be struck and in what order. To play your
piece without your book was almost as great
a crime as to say your repetition with it. It
seems an extraordinary perversity that in an