WeGA, Rezeptionsdokumente, Digitale Edition
author: Anonymus
source date: November 1823
language: en
availability: Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0) (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/)

The name of M. de Weber was hardly known to us till about a year and a half ago, when his romantic but very charming and original opera, Der Freyschütz, made its appearance in the northern and intellectual part of Germany, proving that the national genius for dramatic music, — which, since the retirement of the excellent composer, Winter, had rested under its laurels, — was again aroused into activity. An inspection of that opera excited our wish to see more of the same author, and we obtained several of his compositions, particularly for the pianoforte, all of which shew evident signs of a determination to avoid the common track, and to search for novelty in unfrequented paths. His theatrical works, so far as we have seen of them, are exclusively his own, and should it be said that his instrumental productions are formed after any other model than one created by himself, Beethoven’s is the only model that can be named. But we are more disposed to think that his spirit revolts at every thing like imitation, and if his style in any one point resemble that of his great contemporary, the similitude appears only in the laborious struggle to produce new effects.

This is very properly termed a Concert-Piece; for though the movement, or time, changes, yet the whole is undivided, and forms an unbroken piece; whereas the concerto is always separated into two or more detached parts, – (in England termed movements,) – each being complete in itself. Had it been unaccompanied we should have called it a Fantasia* * We here use this word in its accepted, but erroneous, sense; a Fantasia in strict language is a piece produced all'improvviso., for it has all the wildness of that species of composition, and is quite a flight of the imagination. The greater part of it is in F minor; it breaks into a March in C major, and terminates with what is denominated, in the title-page, a Joyous Rondo, in F major. The opening of this composition, Larghetto, is eminently beautiful and full of pathos; but the subject too soon is evaporated, and needs a succession of velocities of all kinds, — of semitonic passages in every form, of rapid and widely-spreading arpeggios, and of skips that seem only intended for a machine to execute, — supervene, involving both performer and hearer in difficulties that will be apt to awe-strike people with healthy understandings. The following passage, at page 10, will show what sort of hand, and slight-of-hand, are necessary for the performance of this piece: [Klavierstimme, T. 160–162]

The first of these bars was originally used by Woelfl, and inserted among the difficulties of his ne plus ultra.[^1] The next two, which demand a span of eleven notes, are written, we presume, for those ladies who have an extra joint to their fingers. Nature, except in her sportive moods, never formed a female for such an achievement.

[^1: Vgl. NON PLUS ULTRA | Grande Sonate | pour | PIANO-FORTÉ | dediée à | Miss E. Binny | PAR | WOELFL. | Oeuvre 41. | OFFENBACH s/M. | chez Jean André., VN: 2510; die angesprochene Stelle findet sich kurz vor Ende der Variation IX im letzten Satz, im Erstdruck auf S. 21 (vgl. Exemplar D-Mbs).]

The passages of semitones which were once rendered fashionable by Dussek, — the only blot in his musical ’scutcheon’, — disappeared with returning good sense. But there are cycles in all things we fear, in fashion most undeniably, and the bad taste for rapid successions of half notes, is come round again for a time, a short time, we trust, and will again be banished. Hitherto we have only met with these passages in similar progression; M. de Weber has improved the horror, and whetted our teeth for any mordacious exploit, by the subjoined detestable howl, in contrary motion: — [Klavierstimme, T. 202f.]

There are certain flights of octaves in the Rondo, which we only allude to, because they are directed to be played as slides, for such we take as the meaning of the term glissando; a word appertaining to some language no doubt, but to which it belongs we declare our perfect ignorance. These slides, however, are only conveniently practicable on German instruments, the light and shallow touch of which hardly requires the strength of a child. Whoever attempts them on an English piano-forte, will retire from the service with wounded fingers.

We enter thus at large into these difficulties out of respect to the talents of the very author of them. There is elegance, there is ingenuity enough in this Concert-Piece, to make many wish to play it: but where is the amateur, — and for whom do professors publish but amateurs? — where indeed we may ask, is the professor — that will face such unprofitable labour? If the passages when accomplished delighted in proportion to the time and effect bestowed upon them, we would be among the first to preach up patience and perseverance: but if, when subdued, they add no grace to the conqueror’s triumph, where is the glory of overcoming them? To prove, however, that we are not inimical to music that requires a brilliant finger and industry, we extract a part of page 24, which will answer the double purpose of shewing the vigour and ability with which M. de Weber writes, and of furnishing our readers with a good practical exercise. [Klavierstimme T. 457–477a]

The instrumental parts are very contributary to the effect of this composition, are easy, and may be performed by any orchestra, having a complete band of wind instruments.

We cannot afford room for more extracts, otherwise we should have been glad to insert a few bars of the commencement, of which we have already spoken. The march is full of spirit, and very popular in its style. We shall endeavour to give it in our next number.