Revising Perspectives on Nineteenth-Century Jewish Composers: a Case Study Comparison of Ignaz Brüll and Salomon Jadassohn

Home , Abraham Goldfaden, Abraham Zevi Idelsohn, Badchen, Das goldene Kreuz, Felix Otto Dessoff, Friedrich Gernsheim

Revising Perspectives on Nineteenth-Century Jewish Composers: A Case Study Comparison of Ignaz Brüll and Salomon Jadassohn

Adana Whitter

B.A., Universit y of British Columbia, 2009

A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF

MASTER OF ARTS

The Faculty of Graduate Studies

(Music)

THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Vancouver)

March 2013

Abstract

The influence of anti-Semitism on the lives and careers of Jewish musicians within the social climate of nineteenth-century Europe is well known. Pamela Potter, Sander Gilman, Philip Bohlman, and K. M. Knittel have thoroughly explored the anti-Semitic treatment of Jewish composers during this period. Definitions of the experience of Jewish composers have been crystallized on the basis of prominent cases, such as Gustav Mahler or Alexander Zemlinsky, who were actively discussed in the press or other publications. The goal of this study is to examine whether the general view of anti-Semitism, as shown in those studies, applies to other Jewish composers. To this aim, this thesis will introduce two lesser known Jewish composers, Ignaz Brüll (1846-1907) and Salomon Jadassohn (1831-1902) as case studies, consider closely their particular situations at the end of the nineteenth century, and assess their positions vis-à-vis the general views of how musician Jews were treated in these societies. Chapter One outlines the historical and political context in Germany and Austria, where these two composers resided, in order to understand where they fit into that context. Chapter Two focuses on Jewishness in music, the difficulties involved in defining Jewish music, along with the contributions of other Jewish composers to the wider European culture, and makes clear the important part anti- Semitism played in the process of identification during this period. Chapters Three and Four examine Brüll and Jadassohn’s biographical details, musical careers, and the musical genres and stylistic characteristics of these two composers within a broader milieu. The available evidence surrounding Brüll and Jadassohn ultimately demonstrates that at least on the surface they did not face the explicit public anti-Semitic treatment that other, more prominent, Jewish composers encountered, according to whose reception anti-Semitism during that period is typically defined. A more fine-tuned view of the musical and cultural scene in Vienna and Leipzig at the end of the nineteenth century illuminates the musical contribution of lesser known Jewish composers during that time and highlights the need for further individual case studies of other Jewish composers in order to revise current perspectives.

Table of Contents

Abstract ...... ii List of Examples ...... v List of Abbreviations ...... vi Acknowledgements ...... vii Introduction ...... 1 Dual Existence, Adaptation, Identity, and Acceptance ...... 2 Chapter One: The Political and Social Context of Nineteenth Century Germany and Austria ...... 6 Chapter Two: Jewishness and Music ...... 20 Jews in Society ...... 20 What is Jewish Music? ...... 28 Synagogue Music ...... 30 Folk Song ...... 37 Jewish Theater and Broadsides ...... 43 Jewish Composers and Musicians: Contributions to Art Music and its Sphere ...... 46 The Critics ...... 59 Chapter Three: Ignaz Brüll ...... 66 Ignaz Brüll ...... 66 Brüll in Leipzig ...... 74 Brahms’ Circle ...... 79 Brahms and Brüll ...... 80 Mahler, Brüll, and Opera...... 82 Jewish Issues ...... 87 Conclusions ...... 94 Chapter Four: Salomon Jadassohn ...... 96 Salomon Jadassohn ...... 96 Jadassohn’s Participation in Leipzig’s Musical Life...... 101 Jadassohn as Pedagogue ...... 110 L. Lubenau and Musical Treatises ...... 112 Jewish Issues ...... 116

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Conclusions ...... 119 Chapter Five: Conclusions ...... 121 Bibliography ...... 132 Appendix I – List of Brüll’s Complete Works...... 140 Appendix II – List of Jadassohn’s Complete Works ...... 144 Appendix III – C.D. Recordings ...... 149

List of Examples

Ex. 2.1.1 Traditional Synagogue Prayer Modes ...... 32 Ex.2.1.2 Kol Nidrei Melody, One variant ...... 35 Ex.2.1.3 Schoenberg’s Kol Nidrei Melody ...... 36 Ex.2.2.1 Example of Yiddish Folksong ...... 39 Ex. 2.2.2 “Work Song” from 19th Century ...... 41 Ex. 2.2.3 Example of Klezmer music for the bride ...... 43 Ex.2.2.4 Viennese Broadside with Jewish Stereotypes ...... 45 Ex. 2.3.1 Excerpt of Bass Aria from Mendelssohn’s Elijah ...... 53 Ex.2.3.2 Mahler Caricatures ...... 57 Ex.2.3.3 Zemlinsky Caricatures ...... 58 Ex. 2.4.1 Drawings satirizing Mahler’s as director of the Vienna State Opera, 1897-1907...... 64 Ex. 3.1.1 Brüll’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in F Major, Movement I, Opening Theme (mm. 1-6) ... 69 Ex. 3.1.2 Beethoven, Egmont Overture Op.84, Piano Reduction (mm. 74-94) ...... 69 Ex. 3.1.3 Movement I, Thematic-like transitional passages (mm. 77-80) ...... 70 Ex. 3.1.4 Piano Concerto No. 1 in F Major, Second Theme (m. 120) ...... 71 Ex. 3.1.5 Piano Concerto No. 1 in F Major Movement 1, Cadenza, (m.441) ...... 72 Ex. 3.1.6 Piano Concerto No. 1 in F Major, Movement I, Double Exposition, Sonata Form ...... 72 Ex.3.1.7 Piano Concerto No. 1 in F Major, Movement II, Andante Theme (mm. 1-9) ...... 73 Ex. 3.1.8 Piano Concerto No. 1 in F Major, Movement III, Rondo Form ...... 74 Ex. 3.2.1 Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Major, Movement I – Sonata Form ...... 77 Ex. 3.3.1 Das Goldene Kreuz, No.13 Lied (Wie anders war)...... 85 Ex. 3.4.1 Allegro Movement from Andante and Allegro Op. 88 – Rondo Form...... 87 Ex. 4.1.1 Symphony No.1 in C Major, Op. 24, 1860 Movement I - Sonata Form Diagram ...... 104 Ex. 4.1.2 Symphony No. 1 in C Major, Op. 24 Movement II - Rondo Form Diagram ...... 104 Ex. 4.1.3 Symphony No. 1 in C Major, Op. 24 Movement III – ABA’B’ Form Diagram ...... 104 Ex. 4.2.1 Piano Trio No.3, Op. 59 Movement I – Sonata Form ...... 106 Ex. 4.3.1 Piano Concerto No. 1, Adagio sostenuto (mm. 52-9)...... 107 Ex. 4.3.2 Piano Concerto No. 1, Piano overlay, Orchestral Theme (mm. 94-5) ...... 107 Ex. 4.3.3 Liszt’s Piano Concerto No. 1, S.124 Main Theme (mm. 1-6)...... 108 Ex. 4.4.1 Jadassohn’s Kol Nidrei – Opening Introduction and Kol Nidrei Melody (mm.1- 21) 119 v

List of Abbreviations

AMZ - Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung

DMZ - Deutsche Musik-Zeitung

NZfM - Neue Zeitschrift für Musik

Acknowledgements

First I must sincerely thank my advisor, Vera Micznik, for her insight, support and encouragement, critical and practical approach, and most certainly her patience while working with me on this project. I have learned more from her than words can express and for that I am extremely grateful. I would also like to thank Alexander Fisher for his thoughtful comments and suggestions on my work and for providing a new perspective which certainly aided in the completion of this study. It has been a privilege to work with and learn from both of them.

I would also like to thank the UBC music librarians for their knowledge and support in finding difficult sources, scores, and also for employment during part of this process. The relationships built there will not soon be forgotten. I would also like to thank my parents and my sisters for their on-going support and encouragement.

Lastly, I would like to thank my partner, Cris Thorne, who helped me in a variety of ways: listening to music and providing perspective, offering analytical advice when needed, and more importantly, providing emotional and financial support throughout this process. He may never understand how much the completion of this work was dependent on his rational thinking and patience for which I am very grateful.

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Introduction

The cultural position of Jewish citizens in the German-speaking countries of nineteenth- century Europe was part of a complex social and political process that was influenced by a variety of factors, including Germany’s unification in 1871, rising anti-Semitism, the predominance of nationalistic ideologies and tensions in the Austrian empire, and the strong drive for a sense of identity for all nationalities on both an individual and national level.1 The

“Jewish question” in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries has been widely discussed, and issues surrounding emancipation, assimilation, and acceptance provide a complex backdrop to the Jews’ participation in the wider music culture of Germany and Austria. Those who study these issues tend to generalize the struggle of the Jewish population during this period to adapt to the surrounding culture, focusing on major Jewish artistic figures and the difficulties they experienced in a generally anti-Semitic society.2 While generalization is a legitimate method of tracing main social patterns, it tends to obscure variants and exceptions from those underlying tendencies. The goal of this study is to introduce two lesser known Jewish composers, Ignaz

Brüll (1846-1907) and Salomon Jadassohn (1831-1902), as case studies, in order to examine closely the particular situations of these composers at the end of the nineteenth century, and assess their positions vis-à-vis the general views of how Jewish musicians were treated in the societies they lived in.

1 Pamela Potter, “Jewish Music and German Science,” in Jewish Musical Modernism, Old and New, ed. Philip Bohlman (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008), 85. Potter states, “The desire to define Germanness acquired a sense of urgency with German unification in 1871, and the growing forces of German nationalism had set all Germans off on the difficult mission of defining what the German nation was all about. For some this meant distinguishing groups in their midst that could be regarded as foreign and that needed to be suppressed if Germanness were to thrive. The influx of Eastern Jews into Germany, with their distinctive language, dress, and mannerisms, turned attention to this group of outsiders and prompted attacks against them as well as their assimilated brethren […] accused of watering down German culture with banalities, sarcasm, superficial rationalism, commercialization, and internationalism.” She continues that, “music was believed to be particularly vulnerable to these influences. Music had come to be regarded as Germany’s greatest cultural achievement over the previous few centuries, and the purest means for expressing the essence of the German soul.” 2 Figures commonly focused on include a variety of intellectuals, composers, and writers such as: Sigmund Freud, Ludwig Wittgenstein, Franz Kafka, Gustav Mahler, etc. 1

In order to situate properly Brüll and Jadassohn in their respective culture scenes, the first chapter will outline the historical and political context in Germany and Austria, where these two composers resided, with the aim of a clear understanding of how they fit into that context and a better characterization of their working environments. The second chapter will then focus on

Jewishness in music, how it is defined and discussed, along with the contributions of other

Jewish composers to the wider European culture. This should ultimately make clear the difficulties involved in defining Jewish music and the part played by anti-Semitism in the process of identification or denial of its boundaries during the nineteenth century. Once the historical and cultural context has been clarified and the situation of Jewish composers and

Jewish music has been illuminated, Chapters Three and Four will, respectively, introduce the composers Ignaz Brüll and Salomon Jadassohn, and will outline their biographical details including aspects of their musical careers and a discussion of musical genres and stylistic characteristics of these two composers in relation to their environments. Ultimately, the hope is to clarify whether their positions were comparable to those of other Jewish composers, and more importantly, whether current assumptions on the unfavourable position of Jewish composers in the societies of German-speaking countries of the nineteenth century hold true in these two individual cases.

Dual Existence, Adaptation, Identity, and Acceptance

During the latter half of the nineteenth century, emancipated Jews led what many have called a dual existence. They appropriated German culture and secularized their lifestyle without entirely disconnecting from their identification with the Jewish community.3 Though efforts were made by Jews to adapt to their surroundings, according to a majority of scholars, they were still

3 Pamela Potter, “Jewish Music and German Science,” 85. 2

predominantly seen as outsiders. The designation of outsider should be seen in the context of rising nationalism, ethnic awareness, and the construction of cultural as well as national identity in German speaking countries and this designation certainly contributed the Jews’ construction of their own identity. Though the Jews were emancipated and (in theory) given equal rights to participate in the economy and the surrounding culture, they had assimilated to a point where they were no longer visibly different.4 In other words, they spoke the German language, dressed according to the popular habit, and contributed generously to the society and the surrounding culture in meaningful ways. Certain Germans became uncomfortable with the fact that Jews were now indistinguishable from themselves. Despite the fact that assimilation was largely encouraged during this period, pointing out their differences became necessary for those who feared that the Jews had too much influence on the economy and cultural activities. As a result,

Jewish stereotypes, which generally commented on physical appearance, language, and even nervous conditions, became prominent as an active way to distinguish the Jew from the non-Jew; these will be elaborated on further in the chapters to come.5 The existence of Jewish stereotypes contributed to the self- identification and experience of Jews during this period, regardless of how assimilated they were and to what degree they were connected with the Jewish community.

The perpetuation of negative images of the Jew as a result of stereotypes, the ubiquity of anti-

Semitism, and the paradoxical situation of Jewish assimilation during this period, meant that the

4 Sander Gilman and Steven T. Katz, eds., Anti-Semitism in Times of Crisis (New York: New York Univ. Press, 1991), 6. Jews were previously more visible in dress, overall appearance, language, and customs. It was common for Germans and even assimilated Jews to project unwanted characteristics of themselves onto the image of the Jew (eastern) which aided in differentiating them from the rest of society. Jews were among the outsiders in Europe because of this visible difference; however, starting in the enlightenment period, assimilation was commonplace and so the majority of Jews were no longer visibly different. 5 K. M. Knittel, “‘Ein hypermoderner Dirigent’: Mahler and Anti-Semitism in Fin-de-Siècle Vienna,” in 19th Century Music 18/3 (Spring 1995): 263. Jewish stereotypes were transferred to caricatures of prominent Jewish individuals such as Gustav Mahler, and Knittel examines how the portrayal of Mahler in these caricatures pointed inherently to his Jewishness. Knittel also compares the Yiddish accent to the Jewish bodily movements (what was sometimes referred to as the “Jewish Gait”): both could not be hidden and would “inevitably reveal [its] difference.” She also mentions that the Jewish body “had traditionally been viewed as both a site and cause of disease, but at the end of the nineteenth century medical science solidified a link between race and nervous disorders.” 3

position of the Jews in society was inevitably unstable. This study intends to explore this politically charged context in order to determine how this environment impacted the composers in question and their responses to it.

The economic and cultural participation of assimilated Jews nonetheless increased during this period of modernity. At the same time the concept of race was developing and intensifying in discussions among intellectual circles and academic disciplines: music (as much as any other discipline) was naturally affected by an acute focus on ethnicity, origin, and the creation of national identity. The concept of race thus influenced the writings on music as well. As the early discourses on music were penetrated by the discourses on race, the contributions of Jewish composers to the larger cultural arena came to the forefront and their music in connection with their origins came under scrutiny in a variety of ways. 6 In particular, those attempting to compose works as part of the larger German tradition in Germany and Austria and the dangerous influence of these contributions were one of the major concerns. Richard Wagner and his legacy of influential opinions on the Jews and music, for example, mark an important juncture in the development of racial thinking in music. His particular contribution to the instability of the Jews’ situation, because of his statements regarding the inability of Jews (as a race) to create “anything of value” for musical culture, will be explained in more detail later.7 His persuasive rhetoric regarding the Jews in music fueled further discussions (sometimes extreme) and inevitably changed the way the Jews’ participation in music culture was witnessed and discussed. More

6 Philip Bohlman, “Erasure: displacing and misplacing race in twentieth-century music historiography” in Western Music and Race, ed. Julie Brown (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 11-12. 7 Gilman and Katz, eds., Anti-Semitism in Times of Crisis, 18. Full quote: “Jews, however defined, could show that they had the sensibility and sensitivity to be full-fledged members of a world of ethics and aesthetics. Yet the more that they actually did so, the more anti-Semitic stereotypes held that they were incapable of contributing anything of value.”

specifically, his writings influenced how their music was described and ultimately, received by the public and their colleagues.

The ways race infiltrated the writings on music affected how music came to be designated as “Jewish” (or sounding Jewish) and in turn how the concept of Jewish music was defined, which, as will be discussed in Chapter Two, was based on descriptions and characteristics that had less to do with musical content and more to do with racial origins, language, and body movements of the composer, or were general musical characteristics that could be seen in a variety of other music. Music that was deemed “Jewish,” in many cases because of the composer’s origins alone, was immediately seen in a negative light because it was therefore not German, and was thus corrupting long-standing German traditions. That being said, the experiences of Jewish musicians and composers cannot and should not be generalized to the point that it is believed that all experiences were the same, that is, that success was consistently hindered during this period because of having Jewish origins. Individual and less familiar composers deserve more exposure in order to highlight the variety of experiences and degrees of success, the different and unique ways that Jewish composers carved an identity for themselves in the surrounding culture, and to revise the essentialist views on the subject.

Chapter One: The Political and Social Context of Nineteenth Century Germany and Austria

The Jewish composers discussed in this study, Ignaz Brüll and Salomon Jadassohn, lived in Vienna and Leipzig, respectively, at the end of the nineteenth century. In order to understand the situation of Jewish composers in general, it is necessary to outline the historical context in

Austria and Germany and the evolution of anti-Semitism in these regions, including the political, social, and cultural factors that contributed to this context and affected those living and participating in the cultural life. First I will examine the makeup and inner workings of the

Austrian and Prussian empires to which Vienna and Leipzig belonged. Then a closer understanding of the more localized situations in these two cities is necessary, in order to compare and contrast the situations in which the respective composers lived and worked. Notable intellectuals and thinkers of the time will also be discussed in order to highlight their influence on political and cultural thought during this period. Once a proper historical context has been established, it will become easier to situate these composers therein, and to determine their overall position and acceptance in the society.

The Austrian Empire, ruled by the Habsburg monarchy, was an agrarian, semi-feudal, multi-ethnic empire and considered “a relic” in comparison to the rest of Europe in the nineteenth century.1 The empire included Hungary, the Czech Republic, Serbia, Croatia,

Slovakia, Slovenia, Ukraine and parts of Poland, Romania and Italy. The Catholic Church there was more powerful and more anti-Semitic than anywhere else in Europe and Austro-Germans dominated all upper level imperial positions.2 As Allan Janik and Stephen Toulmin observe, the

“central factors responsible for the state of affairs in the Habsburg Monarchy and its capital

1 John Weiss, The Politics of Hate: Anti-Semitism, History, and the Holocaust in Modern Europe (Chicago: Ivan R Dee [Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group], 2003), 61. The Austrian Empire was considered a relic because it was in desperate need of modernization if it was to continue in existence. 2 Ibid., 62. 6

were: numerous “constitutional and social paradoxes:” the prevalence of “chaos” under the surface impression of “splendor, glory, and stability:”3 and “the concept of Hausmacht – the idea that the Habsburgs were the instruments of God on Earth,” a concept that shaped policy for 124 years, thus preventing democracy.4

After the Napoleonic wars, the call for equality and rights was in the air. As Shmuel

Almog notes, the later uprisings of 1848 deeply affected the evolution of the national movements in Europe and, at the same time, of the Jews’ relationship with their environment.5 These uprisings also buttressed the national consciousness of the other smaller minority groups, who made demands for their own administrative autonomy, particularly in the Habsburg Empire.6 In

1848 for example, the Kingdom of Hungary waged a war of independence from the Austrian

Empire and though their initial attempts failed, they later succeeded with the establishment of a dual monarchy, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, in 1867. The reason Franz Josef made concessions with the Magyars was mainly because of economic advantages, but he would not do the same for other minorities wanting similar recognition, which led to an increase in ethnic tensions.7

3Allan Janik and Stephen Toulmin, Wittgenstein’s Vienna (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1973), 37. 4 Ibid., 37-8. Any kind of change threatened the concept of Hausmacht and thus was not welcomed, but rather avoided in most cases. 5Schmuel Almog, Nationalism & Anti-Semitism in Modern Europe 1815-1945 (New York: Pergamon Press, 1990), xv. 6 Ibid. Almog points out that “the sense of solidarity among Slavic peoples intensified as they felt the need for a common stand against German influence on one side, and the Ottoman Empire, on the other.” The lack of contentment of minority groups in the cultivation of culture, language, and historical consciousness is what led to demands for autonomy. 7 Janik and Toulmin, Wittgenstein’s Vienna, 40. Janik and Toulmin explain that Francis Joseph accepted the compromise with Hungary largely because the over taxed Imperial treasury needed replenishment and the Hungarian wheat harvests were abundant. Also considering the precarious economic position of the empire, along with the military setbacks from the recent loss in the Austro-Prussia war, a compromise was necessary. Other minorities such as the Czechs or the Southern Slavs did not have as much to offer in the way of economic gain and their claims posed a threat to the Hausmacht concept and thus he would not make further concessions. 7

Economic modernization and industrialization along with mass migration into Vienna and other Austrian urban centers were also factors that led to ethnic nationalism and separatism.8

With industrialization, literacy became more prevalent, which resulted in ethnic awareness and interest in one’s heritage, culture, and language. With awareness, minority groups realized that

Austro-Germans were dominating higher professional positions, which gave cause for resentment from these groups.9 Austria lost all hope of dominating central Europe with the outcome of the Franco Prussian War (1871) and as a result Franz Josef had to make more concessions such as imposing guild restrictions thus diminishing their autonomy, allowing minority groups to contribute to and benefit from this free enterprise in a way that was not possible before.10 The first modern depression occurred in 1873 as a result of free enterprise.

Because the Jews were now visibly active in the economy, the Liberals, the Jews (by association with liberalism), and the Viennese liberal press (Jewish owned) were blamed for the crisis.

Demands to curb all Jewish economic activity soon followed and thus brought anti-Semitism to an all-time high in this region.11 Efforts to introduce the German language (instead of Latin) to streamline Imperial administration also gave rise to Hungarian and Czech cultural nationalism

(by reaction), which in turn developed into political nationalism.12 The emperor faced further agitation from the Slovenes with the Cilli Affair in 1895 which only made the awareness of

8 Weiss, The Politics of Hate, 11. Weiss discusses in detail the ethnic nationalism occurring in the late nineteenth century in which oppressed minority groups within Austrian, Russian, etc., empires turned militant in their fight for recognition of their culture, language and identity. The Habsburg Empire, in dealing with its ethnic conflicts among minorities, tried to assimilate these minorities within their territories. Jews were put in a very vulnerable position and were commonly referred to as “rootless” as they could not claim physical territories of their own. 9 Ibid., 69. 10Ibid.; Janik and Toulmin, Wittgenstein’s Vienna, 33. They also discuss the military defeat of Austria-Hungary to Prussia in 1867 which ended the Habsburgs’ claim to hegemony in the German-speaking world. 11 Weiss, The Politics of Hate, 68-9. “Jewish Capitalism” was a common phrase during this period and liberalism became closely associated with the Jews. As a result, markets crashed and economic depression set in, and the Jews were the first to take the blame despite any positive economic contribution up to that point. 12 Ibid., 39. The lack of recognition of other minority languages and the prominence given to the German language gave cause to reaction from minority groups who were already pursuing separatist movements within the empire. 8

German nationalism more apparent to the Southern Slavs and Czechs.13 Jews were caught in the crossfire of different minorities staking claims on language, culture, and geographical space in order to assert their independence. Without physical land to claim, the Jews were still considered as “Other” despite their achievements of assimilation.14

The situation in Germany was slightly different. Prior to the unification of Germany, there existed the German Confederation,15 followed by the North German Confederation

(1867).16 The newly united Germany (under Prussia in 1871) ultimately included parts of

Belgium, Czech Republic, Denmark, France, Germany, Lithuania, Poland and Russia. Wilhelm I became the Emperor of Germany and Otto von Bismarck (1815-98) became the Imperial chancellor (second in command to the Emperor). Following unification, several different political parties arose including the German Conservatives, Christian Social Workers Party,

National Liberals, Progressive Party, and Marxist Social Democrats. The Conservative Party, who were the most prestigious and whose support came from military, high civil servants, aristocrats, landowners, and the Emperor’s own court, was also the most anti-Semitic party. As a result, those in charge, those creating policy, ultimately contributed to anti-Semitism in the

13 Janik and Toulmin, Wittgenstein’s Vienna, 39. The Cilli Affair of 1895 involved a Styrian town and what language should be taught in the schools of that region. The Slovenes who lived in the Styrian countryside desired a Gymnasium with their own language for instruction. The town, however, had a majority of Germans living there who refused this request. The Slovenes took their case to the Reichstag and the school was eventually established with their language set for instruction; however this decision caused the resident Germans to leave government postings there and eventually fell from power. This in turn made the Slavs and Czechs from that region more aware of the rise in German nationalism which brought forth more intensified Slavic and Czech nationalism. 14 Almog, Nationalism & Anti-Semitism, 37-38. Almog notes that in general the Jews supported the Empire. Whether they were Hungarian Jews or Galician Jews (Polish orientation), for example, did not conflict with loyalty to the Emperor since he made concessions with both minorities. The tensions came from Jews’ support of liberalism and equality with aspirations for integration because once the depression hit in 1873, liberalism was then undermined and Jews became a symbol of bourgeois liberalism and were essentially blamed for the liberal involvement and the economic crash. 15 Richard Hudson, “The Formation of the North German Confederation,” in Political Science Quarterly 6/3 (Sept, 1891): 424. Hudson notes, that in Germany, between 1815-1866, there were approximately 40 sovereign states that were part of the German Confederation League. 16 Ibid. The North German Confederation (1867) was established following the Austro-Prussian War 1866, which ensued because of the dispute over the territories of the previous German Confederation. This included parts of Denmark, Germany, Lithuania, Poland and Russia. 9

political and social climate.17 Germanizing policies also went into effect following unification through the 1880s, and as noted by Panikos Panayi, these appeared in the linguistic, educational, and administrative arenas of Germany. For example, all schools came under administration of the state, and German became the sole language of instruction in Upper Silesia and replaced

Polish in Poznan. As well, all holders of clerical offices had to possess German citizenship and a

German degree.18 Also important was the establishment of German universities (e.g. University of Berlin, 1809) where there was a focus on the science of eugenics -- the cultivation of pure/superior race by selective breeding -- and this contributed to the designation of the Jews as a

“degenerate” and “worthless race,” obviously leading to the increasing anti-Semitism.19 Attacks on the financial power of the Jews along with the immigration of a large number of Jews into

Germany from Eastern and Central Europe also added to the hostility towards the Jews in

Germany, not only by the state and conservative/nationalist parties but by assimilated German

Jewry as well.20 For example, Otto Böckel’s anti-Semitic pamphlets, “Quintessenz der

Judenfrage” and “Die Juden – Die Könige unser Zeit!” from the late 1880s attacked Jewish financial power and control, as well as their alleged influence in politics and in the press. By the

1890s there were also ritual murder accusations against various Jews, boycotting of Jewish businesses, and overall increased hostility with the emergence of other anti-Semitic parties including Anti-Semitic German Socialist Party and the Anti-Semitic People’s Party.21

17 Weiss, The Politics of Hate, 18. Weiss further explains that the ruling elites used anti-Semitism to protect their power, values and economic interests from democracy, liberal and socialist movements; Panikos Panayi, Ethnic Minorities in Nineteenth and Twentieth Century Germany: Jews, Gypsies, Poles, Turks and Others (Harlow, Essex UK: Pearson Education, 2000, 70-71. Panayi, also notes the balance of power which favored the executive (Kaiser, Chancellor and Aristocracy), and the undue influence at the expense of the middle class and the proletariat. 18 Panikos Panayi, Ethnic Minorities, 75. He also explains that Jews could not ignore the variety of manifestations of anti-Semitism during these two decades and were fully aware of their ethnicity despite any attempts to suppress it, 71. 19 Weiss, The Politics of Hate, 23. 20 Panayi, Ethnic Minorities, 84-5. 21 Ibid. 10

A paradoxical situation, commonly referred to as German Dualism, existed between

Austria and Germany and deserves explanation at this point. German Dualism, in short, was the issue of which nation was the best candidate to unite German speaking lands.22 Religion was one problematic aspect of this paradox in creating a German nation-state because of the

“estrangement between Protestantism and Catholicism.”23 The Habsburgs had recatholicized

Vienna and other parts of Austria after the Reformation, while Prussia’s Protestant leanings would not allow unification under Catholicism. Behind nationalist thought in its “dominantly

Protestant incarnation” was the assertion that a culturally and politically unified nation required a single, prevailing religion.24 Also relevant here is the connection between anti-Catholicism and anti-Judaism which added to the tensions between Germany and Austria and their goals of unification. In the eighteenth century many (Protestant) Enlightenment thinkers denounced

Judaism as the origin of Christian Catholic Orthodoxy, thus discrediting the Catholic Faith as a confession of Christianity, considering it foreign to the German people because of its Judaic ancestry. This resulted in increased hostility towards the Jews (and Catholics), and even further persecution of Judaism before and after the unification process.25 The Austrian insistence on including non-Germans (Czechs, Magyars, Croats) in the unification process—as they did not want to lose those territories—was also problematic since the Prussians were not willing to

22 http://globaledge.msu.edu/countries/germany/history/. Accessed Oct.15th 2011. This source along with several online German history sites, discusses the issue of German Dualism and the battle for unification of German speaking lands between Austria and Prussia, with religion at the center of the debate. 23 Wolfgang Altgeld, “Religion, Denomination and Nationalism in nineteenth century Germany,” in Protestants, Catholics and Jews in Germany 1800-1914, ed. Helmut Walser Smith (New York: Berg, 2001), 53. 24 Ibid., 54. Altgeld refers to Hegel’s beliefs about Protestantism as the necessary sole religion as it “expresses the innermost being of all people, so that all external and diffuse matters aside, they can find a common focus and, despite inequality and transformations in other spheres and conditions, are still able to trust and rely on each other.” Other German nationalists furthered this line of thinking and felt that the true essence of the nation was revealed by God and therefore had to be rooted in a specific religion. 25 Ibid., 58-9. Altgeld also explains that towards the end of the nineteenth century, successors to this particular view of Catholicism and the Jews, commonly talked of a threat to the Empire from the black (Catholic), gold (Judaism), and red (Socialist) internationals, and many showed their support with slogans such as “Without Jews, without Rome, we build the German dome.” 11

recognize those minorities either. So despite the fact that Austria and Germany both had the same goal of unification of German-speaking lands, they each had their own agendas which did not coincide with one another. Unification was achieved under Prussia, but Austria-Hungary was excluded, remaining a separate polity.

A number of influential cultural figures contributed to the historical context of anti-

Semitism. One of them was the composer Richard Wagner (1813-83), whose essay, Judaism in

Music (1850) “shape[d] all of the later perceptions of the Jew.”26 In this essay Wagner questioned the nature of the Jews’ aesthetic sensibilities, denied them ability to create art, and thus brought the art world, specifically music, into the anti-Semitic discourse of the time.27 As

Anthony Arblaster notes, “Wagner’s preoccupation with the future of Germany and the German

‘race’ [is] explicit in Die Meistersinger.”28 Also relevant was Wilhelm Marr (1819-1904) and his pamphlet The Victory of Judaism over Germandom, which coined the term anti-Semitism and also shifted the anti-Jewish rhetoric (previously present) from religious terms into a scientific language regarding race.29 The importance of such figures was their positioning of the “Jews beyond the pale” (otherwise known as the periphery or margins of society) and the emphasis on negative character traits attributed to the Jews from this point on including, “tribal loyalty and hostility towards others, parasitism and greed, shallow intellectualism, and subversiveness and

26 Sander Gilman, Jewish Self-Hatred: Anti-Semitism and the Hidden Language of the Jews (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1986), 209. 27 Ibid., 209, 5-6.Gilman quotes directly from Wagner’s Judaism in Music, “The situation in the world shows that the Jew has gone well beyond emancipation. He rules and will continue to rule as long as money means power.” 28 Anthony Arblaster, “Self Identity and National Identity in Classical Music,” In Journal of Political & Military Sociology 30/2 (Winter 2002): 260. He discusses the opera as an example of the “desire for national renewal” prevalent in art and other areas of society during the nineteenth century. 29 Almog, Nationalism & Anti-Semitism, 25-26; Panayi, Ethnic Minorities, 82. Wilhelm Marr felt the Jews would always be outsiders and pointed out their control over wealth, politics and culture. He also founded the Anti-Semitic League in 1879 and though he coined the term anti-Semitism, it was really just a new word for an old matter -- the hatred of Jews. 12

arrogance.”30 Heinrich von Treitschke (1834-1896), a royal historian and Berlin history professor, who concerned himself with the future of Germany, critiquing liberalism and socialism, for example, was also at the center of anti-Semitism with his publication of his essay What We Can

Expect from 1879.31 He designated “Good vs. Bad Jews” along with his desires for their assimilation, noting the composer Felix Mendelssohn as a prime example of assimilation and as

“being German in the best sense of the word” while concurrently pointing out the dangerous arrogance in some Jewish circles and Jewish influence on national life recently becoming harmful.32 An important note here is that Treischke was associated with many areas involving anti-Semitism but not to the more damaging degree of those who followed him. His “Good Jew” was an assimilated Jew and his “Bad Jew” was considered an Eastern Jew who had migrated to the West with no intention of assimilating and continuing in ritualistic behavior and traditional dress and language. He did coin the phrase “The Jews are our misfortune;” however, as Almog notes, “he did not seek to alter the status of the Jews, merely to reduce their influence.”33 The fact that such prominent intellectuals were writing in this manner certainly meant that the centrality of the Jewish question was very apparent in German political thought.34

During the 1880s others emerged such as Karl Lueger (1844-1910) in Vienna, the leader of the Christian Social Movement. Lueger and his supporters desired the restoration of Guild and

Church power, banning of Jewish Liberal press, and used anti-Semitism as a powerful means to

30 Ibid. 31 Heinrich von Treitschke , “What We Can Expect,” in Prussian Yearbooks Vol. 44 (Berlin: 1879), 559-76. Treitschke is cited in Almog, Nationalism & Anti-Semitism, 36 and in Gilman, Jewish Self-Hatred, 214. 32 Almog, Nationalism & Anti-Semitism, 34-35; Sander Gilman, Jewish Self-Hatred, 214. Gilman also notes the relevance of Treitschke’s publication and his position that Jews are either “Good” or “Bad.” Treitschke had a position as a Reichstag deputy and Berlin history professor, and according to Panayi, he saw no space for the Jews as a separate group, which meant assimilation was important to their acceptance (Panayi, Ethnic Minorities, 82). 33 Almog, Nationalism & Anti-Semitism 34-35. 34 Panayi, Ethnic Minorities, 83. He also notes Paul de Lagarde and his racial concept of the German Volk as well as his opinion that Jews threatened traditional German values and ultimately assimilation or emigration was the best solution. 13

achieve popularity and support.35 George von Schoenerer (1842-1921), also in Vienna and the leader of the Pan German Movement (1879), described the Jews as “dangerous, cunning, parasites” and railed against conversion of the Jews as it corrupted German blood and subverted

German institutions.36 His influence meant that even the converted Jew was still considered a threat and Schoenerer aligned with various artisans proposing restrictions, ghettos, and eventually violent pogroms against the Jews, with the distribution of racist pamphlets, petitions and boycotting of Jewish businesses.37 The Pan German League (1894) came directly out of the

Pan German Movement and only pushed those ideals further with weekly publications of the

Alldeutsche Blätter.38 Lueger and Schoenerer united their respective groups under the United

Christian Anti-Semites, supported by Pope Leo XIII, and as a result, forced the Emperor to name

Lueger as mayor of Vienna in 1892, the first time in Europe where anti-Semites had control of a major city.39 Schoenerer was also connected to the Badeni Ordinance of 1897 which provoked a violent reaction in Bohemia and Vienna respectively, with riots comparable to those of 1848, contributing to his legacy of violence as political means.40 Lastly, Otto Weininger (1880-1903)

35 Weiss, The Politics of Hate, 66-67. They also wanted church control over education to lead against the corruption and power of the Jews. 36 Ibid., 69-70. 37 Ibid. Schoenerer also contributed and perpetuated the blame of the Jews for the economic crisis and part of his initiatives proposed higher taxes for the Jews. 38Panayi, Ethnic Minorities, 79-80. Important to note here is Pan-Germanism started with Schoenerer and his followers in 1879 and by 1894 the Pan German League was founded continuing those ideals including the publication of a weekly journal Alldeutsche Blätter. Their aim was to protect German interests worldwide and included a völkisch concept of ethnicity which demanded expansion into Eastern Europe. The Pan German League found strongest support from northern parts, industrial towns and several prominent German cities including Leipzig, Dresden, Halle, and Kassel. Much of their attention was devoted to anti-Semitism and racial ideologies. 39 Weiss, The Politics of Hate, 72-75. By 1902 Weiss notes, that there is evidence of a Christian Social member announcing with great applause at a city council meeting; “Yes, we want to annihilate the Jews!” and “Our program is the elimination of Jewry.” 40 Janik and Toulmin, Wittgenstein’s Vienna, 57-58. The Badeni Ordinances of 1897 involved demonstrations regarding German and Czech languages and their use in the inner service of Bohemia. Riots broke out in Vienna, Graz, Salzburg and Bohemia on a violent scale similar to those of 1848. The main difference was that the 1848 uprisings were “the outcry of hungry mobs for parliamentary representation” and the 1897 riots were “the radicalization of the bourgeois” with incredible violence in the streets sparked by mass nationalism. The matter even affected local restaurants in which Germans refused to serve Czechs. All of this contributed to Schoenerer’s violent political legacy. 14

with his book Sex and Character (1902), published in Vienna, contributed to his legacy as one of the most notorious anti-Semites and anti-feminists at the turn of the century in Vienna.41 His work was widely read and widely influential and included his “racially inflected theory of ethical subjectivity” where he designated three ideal types; the Man, the Woman, and the Jew.42

Everyone was a mixture of these three types, but the Jew was something that had to be overcome in order to be truly ethical.43 Because of the wide distribution of his work throughout various intellectual circles at the time, Weininger certainly “contributed to the perpetuation and justification of anti-Semitism in the wider intellectual culture.”44

The result of nationalism combined with anti-Semitism in the last decades of the nineteenth century put the Jews in an ambiguous position aptly described by Till van Rahden in his concept of “situational ethnicity,” which in simple terms means belonging or aligning oneself with certain ethnic groups depending on social situations.45 Rahden states that, “it is precisely the concept of situational ethnicity, which seems to be particularly helpful in the analysis of German

Jews that emphasizes the high degree to which ethnicity can be bound to a concrete social

41 Julie Brown, “Otto Weininger and musical discourse in turn-of-the-century Vienna,” in Western Music and Race, ed. Julie Brown (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 84. 42 Ibid. Brown points out many notable writers and thinkers of the time who read Weininger seriously, including: Freud, Kafka, Wittgenstein, Kraus, Zweig along with the composers, Schoenberg, Berg, Webern, Zemlinsky, Schreker and Pfitzner, the majority of whom happened to be Jewish. Briefly, the Male type was “all ethical, creative and intellectual,” the Woman was “amoral, all-sexual, and all-irrational,” and the Jew was similar to the Woman but also “unethical” (84-85). 43 Ibid. More specifically Weininger believed that human nature was “at base bisexual” and every individual had a mixture of these ideal types, some more than others depending on their preferred orientation but the Jew was something each individual had to overcome. 44 Ibid., 86. Brown notes Weininger’s passion for Wagner which partly accounts for his construction of Jewishness and potentially his own suicide as he himself was also Jewish. 45 Till van Rahden, Jews and Other Germans: Civil Society, Religious Diversity, and Urban Politics in Breslau, 1860-1925, trans. Marcus Brainard (Madison, Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press, 2008), 8-9. Rahden explains that “an ethnic community distinguishes itself through the idea of a common origin and a common culture.” And, further, he argues that “boundaries are constructed” and a cultural or social boundary signals either membership or exclusion emphasizing that the boundaries are not rigid but “often fluid.” More importantly, membership in an ethnic community thus does not exclude loyalty to other social formations and groups such as class, sex, confession, professional group and nation. 15

situation.”46 Assimilation was a degree of situational ethnicity, as although Jews remained as such in some people’s perception, it was more acceptable to be officially considered “German” or “Hungarian” in certain social situations in order to be successfully integrated into the central functioning spheres of society and everyday life, including the economy, politics, science, education, and art.47 Vienna and Leipzig now deserve closer attention to clarify the differences between their cultural scenes.

Vienna was a special place during the nineteenth century, closely associated with contradiction and paradox. As noted by Carl Schorske, it was a “cultural hothouse” with an incredible number of creative individuals in residence.48 Janik outlines the specific factors for this situation as follows: first was Vienna’s size,49 second were Vienna’s multiple roles in the dual monarchy,50 third was the movement between Vienna and the other metropolitan urban centers (Prague and Budapest),51 and fourth was the talent-fostering traditions present there.52

The recatholicization of Vienna mentioned earlier also contributed to an atmosphere which included a “fatalism” and “alienation” within society. The reason for fatalism and alienation as explained by Janik was the fact that previous Protestants were essentially asked to discard all they had previously learned from that religion and to convert to Catholicism as forced by the state. The result of this was a cynicism about public life which resulted in a fatalistic alienation

46 Ibid., 9. 47 Ibid., 7. 48 Janik, Wittgenstein’s Vienna Revisited, 3. Individuals included: Mozart to Bruckner, Mahler, Freud, Kafka, Kraus. 49 Ibid., 3. As Janik noted, Vienna was a huge metropolis, whose population increased dramatically towards the end of the century due to mass migration from the East and it was statistically more probable that creative individuals would emerge there. 50 Ibid. Multiple roles included: Imperial Capital, Economic hub, Provincial Capital, Largest city in the realm, and the focus of Imperial patronage of the arts and Empire’s administration. 51 Ibid., 5. These metropolitan centers “fed talent” to and from Vienna, with each individual bringing something to the center as he moved in each direction. Also with this to and fro movement, the Viennese became accustomed to so many languages, that, as Janik notes, “however much the native Viennese might resent the Czech, the Dalmatian, the Magyar or the Galician Jew, he was familiar with all of them […] this familiarity bread cosmopolitan wit,” even if it were “to have scurrilous, racist, and sardonic overtones.” 52 Ibid., 6. As Janik notes, creativity depends on excellence and excellence depends on the existence of practices and customs that further excellence. 16

in respect to ethical matters since religious beliefs essentially became something ornamental and extraneous to public life.53 Also contributing to the cultural environment was the overall treatment of Vienna’s creative individuals, which, as noted by Janik, was to ignore them, sometimes even persecute them, only to “adulate” them once dead. As he puts it, “if we are to understand Vienna as a creative milieu” we must “recognize the role that Vienna’s almost incredible hostility to its most illustrious sons played in forming that milieu.”54 Censorship was also prominent during the century, affecting every aspect of society including music. There were, however, still a variety of foreign and domestic publications available in the ever popular coffee houses or cafes, and so it is likely that the Viennese were up on current events and other topics normally considered taboo.55 With the availability of such publications and the breaking of taboo subjects, hidden hypocrisies came to light, and people became more vocal in general about other taboo subjects such as anti-Semitism.

Leipzig, on the other hand, was notable by the nineteenth century as a leader in publishing technology and also for its University (1409) where preeminent graduates and other aspiring academics came from all over Germany. The combination of these two factors produced a perception of Leipzig inhabitants as scholars, civil servants, book traders, publishers, and merchants.56 The population of the city had grown immensely and it was now a successful industrial, political, and cultural urban center thanks to the rise of the urban elite who aided in development of enlightened ideals, with Protestantism prevailing and contributing to its religious

53 Ibid., 9. 54 Janik, Wittgenstein’s Vienna Revisited, 1-2. He cited Mozart, Schubert, Mahler and Wolf as prime examples of such abuse, as they found more successes in cities like Prague or Salzburg than they did in Vienna. 55Alice M. Hanson, Musical Life in Biedermeier Vienna (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1985), 40-49. 56Antje Pieper, Music and the Making of Middle-Class Culture: A comparative history of nineteenth-century Leipzig and Birmingham (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), 2. These professions contributed to the ideal of the “enlightened Bürger.” 17

identity.57 The cultural environment can easily be gleaned from activities at the Gewandhaus, the premier concert venue in Leipzig during the nineteenth century. In Leipzig, Felix Mendelssohn’s legacy of assimilation has already been briefly mentioned. His “personification of Leipzig’s cultural conscience,” which included his protection of the cultural tradition and classical ideals in the esteemed Gewandhaus, added to his legacy and was something other Jewish composers would have contended with and possibly aspired to.58

The situation for composers in Leipzig appears different from that in Vienna because of the conservative traditions which the major directors, from Mendelssohn to Carl Reinecke, abided by during their reign at the Gewandhaus until 1890s. The essential rejection of compositions by the New German School (Wagner, Liszt, et al.) from the Gewandhaus performances reflected the preference for classical values; even though modern or progressive ideas regarding philosophy, politics and even music, were circulating, the culture and the contribution of composers in Leipzig remained traditionalist.59 Only in the last few years of the nineteenth century did the situation change with the arrival of Arthur Nikisch in 1895 as the new director of the Gewandhaus, which allowed personality and artistic individuality to finally claim a place in Leipzig’s music culture.60

As has been shown, the situations in Leipzig and Vienna and Germany and Austria respectively differed to certain degrees; however the overall rise in anti-Semitism was a

57 Ibid., 2-3.The elite bourgeois were committed to furthering the development of industry, politics and culture, and without them this would not have been achieved. 58Pieper, Music and the Making of Middle-Class, 87-92. Mendelssohn is noted as representative of celebrated bourgeois values, but even more so as the representative of the classical ideal. 59 Ibid., 121. The point here is that there were new and important aesthetic developments such as Nietzsche’s philosophy, circulating in Leipzig; however they did not necessarily draw support or opposition from bourgeois culture but rather existed alongside of it. John Weiss mentions that Kant, Hegel and Fichte, the German idealist philosophers at the time, incorporated Lutheran Christianity into their philosophies which essentially disposed them against Judaism (Weiss, The Politics of Hate, 20-21). 60 Ibid., 134. As noted by Pieper, for most of the second half of the nineteenth century, the Gewandhaus and the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung insisted on cultural propriety and classicism and so it was not until Nikisch’s entrance into the Gewandhaus that modernism finally took a foothold. 18

consistent trend they shared. Now that the historical context of each place has been outlined more clearly it is necessary to discuss Jews in society and more specifically, their relationship to both culture and music which will result in a more complete context for which to position

German Jewish composers at the end of the nineteenth century.

Chapter Two: Jewishness and Music

This chapter will first briefly outline the general position of the Jews in European society in regards to identity, professions, religion, assimilation, acculturation, and their overall relationship to music. Secondly it will explore a working definition of the term “Jewish music,” since no precise definition exists that can be taken for granted. Several questions will be addressed: can it be said, as in other “ethnic musics,” that the definition has to do with musical materials borrowed from specific Jewish folk or ritual music? To which extent did reception -- what the critics deemed as “Jewish” -- contribute to the contemporary perception of Jewishness and music? And, were there any particular genres and forms that can be said to be specific to

“Jewish music?” Finally, an overview of nineteenth century notable composers and musicians of

Jewish origins from various countries in Europe will help create a more complete background within which we can properly place Ignaz Brüll and Salomon Jadassohn in the larger context of

German Jewish music.

Jews in Society

A look back at the eighteenth century can provide a sense of the general position of the

Jews in society and how it changed during the nineteenth century. According to Eric Werner, by the end of the eighteenth century the whole of European Jewry fit into four strata including: 1) bankers, court Jews and patricians1, 2) scholars and Rabbis,2 3) businessmen, artisans, and

1 Eric Werner, A Voice Still Heard: The Sacred Songs of the Ashkenazic Jews (University Park, PA: Penn State University Press, 1976), 169. These Jews were considered “Toleranz juden” in Austria and were generally the more tolerated Jews in their respective countries. These Jews could marry whomever they wanted, they were financiers of dynasties, successors of the court Jew, etc., aspired to political liberation and equal status, and achieved social equality (or the perception of it) and nobility. 2 Ibid. These Jews were in autocratic positions before emancipation, so they were mostly opposed to it because of the loss of their power that it would have entailed. A small group of them were liberalists and wanted the option to get out of the ghetto and be freed from legal and intellectual confines. 20

functionaries in Jewish communities (in the cities),3 and 4) Rural Jews.4 Where they fit into the above strata affected their position in the society and, as a result, some were granted more freedom and access to cultural and social situations than others. The social status of the Jews was different from country to country and city to city, but certain families attained some equality with patricians and nobility.5 Emancipation of the Jews happened in the last decade of the eighteenth century, beginning in France, with Germany and Austria lagging behind, and affected the larger cities more than rural areas. As noted by Werner, “changes in the structure of community, its functionaries, its liturgy and music, were most apparent in such pace-setting cities as Hamburg,

Vienna, Paris and Frankfurt.”6 For example, Jewish communities became “religious societies” and the ghetto was officially abolished, which meant that those communities lost their already limited autonomy and jurisdiction over everything except ritual matters.7 In other words, the

Rabbis were no longer considered figures of the authority (Judges) in these communities.

Instead they became preachers and teachers as a result of the loosening of boundaries that came with the elimination of the ghetto which gave these communities exposure to the culture around them.

The Haskalah or the Jewish “Enlightenment” deserves some explanation for its relevance to the success and overall situation of Jews in nineteenth century Europe. As Philip Bohlman explains, the Haskalah is the key to understanding the “revolutionary transition in Jewish music

3 Ibid., 170. These Jews had great expectations about emancipation so they welcomed it but were also disappointed by it when they realized not all promises were kept by certain states. These encompassed the majority of Western and Central European Jewry. 4 Ibid. At the beginning of the eighteenth century these Jews were almost ¼ of the German, Austrian, and Alsatian Jewish population. They dealt closely with non-Jews and were neutral in regards to Emancipation. They were Orthodox Jews and generally opposed to change, preferred their rural traditions, and their music was notated much later for that reason. 5 Ibid. Such families included: Mendelssohn’s, Beers in Berlin, Barons Arnstein, Eskeles, Wertheimstein in Vienna. However in instances of unrest, such as riots, “the mirage” of equality disappeared quickly. 6 Ibid., 192. Emancipation began in France with Napoleon and was instated in all other countries under his command. In Prussia, Chancellor von Hardenberg allowed for equality and emancipation in 1812, while in Austria they felt the “Toleranz Edict” of 1782 was sufficient enough. All emancipatory laws were appealed after the defeat of Napoleon. 7 Ibid. 21

and Jewish music history.”8 This movement “came out of centuries of isolation from host cultures, [and] Jews began interacting with those cultures by altering practices and accommodating to that culture.”9 Their central goal was to find equality with non-Jews on secular matters and to alter their way of life so as to fit in with the non-Jewish communities within which they were living.10 The Haskalah was born after Moses Mendelssohn (1729-1786), the German Jewish philosopher, managed to secure the King of Prussia as his patron and obtained a certain status rarely achieved before by other Jews. As a result, certain rights were gained, including the legal equality of Prussian Jews (temporarily), aspirations for modern education, science, and contemporary styles of living and art. Although a “deep seated hatred” remained for the Jews, there was enough tolerance to allow for the hope of future opportunities of assimilation.11 However, legal equality did not necessarily mean acceptance from non-Jews.

In France for example, efforts were made for a type of “regeneration of the Jews” which included educating them in French language and culture and converting the Jewish economy into an industrial, agricultural, and professional livelihood, but behind this concept there was still the strong opinion that most Jews were “degenerate” despite the efforts to remove “the stigma of degeneration” from Judaism.12 The Dreyfus Affair (1894) is one such example of the “nationally motivated anti-Semitism” present in France during the last decade of the century and showcases

8Philip Bohlman, Jewish Music and Modernity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), xix. Bohlman states further that “Music was not only an object of exchange across social and religious boundaries, but fundamentally reconfigured those boundaries.” The Haskalah was crucial to reconfiguration because it made “possible to speak for the first time about an ontology of Jewish Music.” Before M. Mendelssohn and other Maskilim, music was a vague and aesthetically autonomous object in Jewish Society and this was because “everything in the synagogue was music” (prayer, cantillation, ritual, etc.) and it was impossible to distinguish or limit it to any category. 9 Emanuel Rubin & John H. Baron, Music in Jewish History and Culture (Sterling Heights, Mich.: Harmonie Park Press, 2006), 153. 10 Ibid. 11 Ibid., 154. Jews were allowed entrance to universities they had previously been denied and there they became good friends with other non-Jewish intellectuals. 12 Ibid. Efforts were made by Jewish consistories to emphasize religious, educational, and economic changes which were more modern. By religious changes I mean nineteenth-century reforms added to the Jewish religion which were supposed to modernize the religion and make it more acceptable to non-Jews. 22

the lengths taken to exploit one Jew, the Jewish Captain Alfred Dreyfus, with the underlying goal of proving the “disloyalty of [all] the Jews of France.”13 The false conviction of treason given to Dreyfus ultimately divided French society, with those against him, in many cases, invoking his Jewishness as a predominant factor contributing to his guilt.14 Thus while there was some recognition and certain Jews were tolerated, their religion was not, which ultimately impeded their acceptance.15

The Haskalah did not develop as fast in Eastern Europe as in the West thanks to political and social conditions, even though there were many individuals aware of the movement and who desired reforms of Jewish customs and practices in order to modernize.16 The overall importance of the Haskalah in Germany, France, and Russia was the fact that they “opened Jews to all facets of modern life which the ghetto mentality of Orthodoxy had forbidden. For the first time, Jews

13 Almog, Nationalism & Anti-Semitism in Modern Europe 1815-1945, 45-46. Captain Alfred Dreyfus was convicted of treason in December 1894 after rumors circled that he had confessed to selling military secrets to Germany. The media coverage of the trial peaked the public’s interest dividing them into for and against Dreyfus. After his conviction, he was stripped of his rank and exiled to Devil’s Island. He was not acquitted until 1906 despite the fact that the real traitor confessed in 1899. Dreyfus was given a retrial but not exonerated, only pardoned. See Hermann Levin Goldschmidt, The Legacy of German Jewry, trans. David Suchoff (New York: Fordham University Press, 2007), 102-03. Goldschmidt describes the stripping of Dreyfus’ rank along with the public humiliation he received from a “mob whipped to a frenzied pitch by anti-Semitic insanity.” Goldschmidt discusses the Dreyfus affair in connection with Theodor Herzl, the well-known Austro-Hungarian advocate of the Zionist movement. According to Goldschmidt, after witnessing Dreyfus’ public humiliation Herzl believed a political change was required to fix the Jewish problem and the answer was the creation of a Jewish state. 14 Ibid. Almog states that “the ingredients of a nationally motivated anti-Semitism were clearly visible in the Dreyfus Affair. Nationalism became the criterion which determined human behavior in general: the nation was perceived as a unique entity confronting other nations in a war of all against all while simultaneously combating the enemy within. At the head of the hostile forces stood the Jew, the epitome of the foreigner.” 15 Rubin and Baron, Music in Jewish History, 154-55. Rubin and Baron further that the 1820s to the 1860s was “a period of turmoil” for Jewish intellectuals as they realized the hatred of the Jews (despite emancipation and aims at equality) would simply not go away. 16Ibid. The Maskilim (enlightened ones) of the Haskalah did not exist in Russia prior to the 1820s as most that had desired modern science, education, and culture simply converted to Russian Orthodoxy or went abroad. Most Jews in Russia in the ninenteenth century were either Russian Orthodox or Chassidic. With the assassination of the Tsar in 1881, violent pogroms were unleashed on the Jews and those who survived emigrated to the West or to America. 23

took part in musical life in Europe, interacting with non-Jewish musicians and with their own musical ancestors.”17

In the nineteenth century in particular Vienna was considered a model for emancipation to Eastern Europe as well. According to Werner, after the Toleranz Edict (1782) when Joseph II extended religious freedom to the Jewish population, Vienna had the reputation for being “a haven of relative security for the Jewish masses” and Eastern Europe saw her as parallel to the

West’s view of Paris at that time: a center for science and art, theater and music, culture and refinement.18 As the century progressed, thanks to the Jews’ earlier emancipation in Western and

Central Europe, there was more opportunity for Jewish citizens to gain employment in positions previously denied to them, such as in the civil service, medicine, law, academia, the banking sector, and so forth. The release from the ghetto and the freedom to participate in the culture more actively naturally led to attempts of assimilation into cultural and social spheres, an aspiration for which success could be achieved. Thus a majority of Jews in music positions or otherwise did their best to adapt to their cultural surroundings.

Several scholars bring out as essential for this adaptation, a process of “assimilation and acculturation” which they claim has always been an aspect of the Jewish experience in Europe.

For example, in his discussion on emancipation, Hermann Goldschmidt describes it as the

“smoothing out of all difference, the goal of assimilation and its conformity” and he observes that Jews, like other minority groups, also struggled for equal rights “and thus were entangled in the most serious difficulties that an excessive adaptation can produce."19 During this process,

17 Ibid., 157. While the Jews were taking part in secular opportunities in Europe they were at the same time drawing on the Jewish musical heritage and sometimes even bringing outside experience into the synagogue. 18Ibid., 206-07. In 1820 there were 118 tolerated Jewish families in Vienna who petitioned for an organized community and a synagogue which would involve reforms and new kind of worship. 19 Goldschmidt, The Legacy of German Jewry, 57-58. He also points the fact this desire for the same freedom actually implies the freedom to become like others as well. He further explains that this “model of assimilation did 24

Goldschmidt divides the Jews into two groups: one that supported equal rights (and emancipation), and the other that fought against assimilation, so that Jews would continue to be

Jews once equal rights were given.20 Important here is that regardless of which group one fell into, for or against, the concept of assimilation was part of this experience during this historical juncture. He concludes that “when we examine the German Jewish path (to modernity), both applauding their struggle for equal rights and criticizing their confused desire to fit in at any cost, we must always recall that emancipation and assimilation worked on both an individual and collective level.” In other words, the concept of assimilation was essentially unavoidable. Klara

Móricz questions the essentialist views surrounding Jewish Identity and the relationship of assimilation to it in the musical culture specifically, and points out that in “common discussions of national or ethnic music […] the most important are a preference for the expression of a community over that of an individual,” implying that there was a common belief that the individual experience reflected the communal one and that ultimately a “nation or an ethnic group can be reduced to some essence that is present in every member of the group.21 She references Jewish musicians in Russia at the end of the nineteenth century, who due to their unwillingness “to remain in the ghetto [. . .] left folk [music] behind in an effort to assimilate their art into European art.”22 She does not deny the fact that individual Jews would have had varied experiences; however, the complexity of “acculturation and assimilation” was very

not further the Jewish people’s entry to modernity” but rather guaranteed them equal rights with the “simple condition” that they cease to remain Jews. 20 Ibid. 21Klára Móricz, Jewish Identities: Nationalism, Racism, and Utopianism in Twentieth Century Music (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2008), 1. 22 Ibid., 89. 25

relevant to the two Jewish composers featured in her study (Schoenberg and Bloch) and their positions in society.23 We turn now to an examination of these terms.

Acculturation is defined generally as a process where one cultural or ethnic group adapts to or borrows from another group’s cultural or behavioural traits, while acknowledging their original culture or ethnicity.24 More specifically this process can be either gradual (over several generations) or abrupt, and may involve the transference of ideas, beliefs, customs, and traditions, through contact and interaction between communities or societies.25 The main idea is that one keeps one’s own culture but adopts or accepts a new one and so one is in a sense bi- cultural, in that he essentially straddles at the same time two different cultures whose boundaries are drawn but blurry. Assimilation is generally defined as the absorption of a minority group into a major population, taking on the cultural norms, values and traditions of the dominant society.26

This term is commonly used interchangeably with acculturation, but assimilation is more specifically defined as a process where the minority group becomes indistinguishably integrated into the dominant host society.27 In relation to the Jewish experience, the term assimilation has been described as the process of integrating within another culture to the extent that distinctive

23 Ibid., 9. In her book, Móricz discusses three seemingly disparate, yet related topics: Russian Jewish Musicians at turn of the 20th century, Ernest Bloch, and Arnold Schoenberg. The latter of the two she presents as case studies that counter the essentialist (generalist) assumptions about Jewish identity and notes that “it was due to the similarity between Bloch and Schoenberg’s social status as assimilated Jews in a suspicious or hostile environment that made their relationship to their Jewish background equally peculiar.” 24 Charles Doyle, "acculturation," In A Dictionary of Marketing, Oxford University Press, 2011. http://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780199590230.001.0001/acref-9780199590230-e-0021. 25 Timothy Darvill, "acculturation," In The Concise Oxford Dictionary of Archaeology, Oxford University Press, 2008. http://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780199534043.001.0001/acref-9780199534043-e-18; Allan Beaver, "acculturation," In A Dictionary of Travel and Tourism, Oxford University Press, 2012. http://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780191733987.001.0001/acref-9780191733987-e-124; "acculturation," In A Dictionary of Public Health, edited by Last, John M., Oxford University Press, 2007. http://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780195160901.001.0001/acref-9780195160901-e-24. 26 Darvill, "assimilation," In The Concise Oxford Dictionary of Archaeology, Oxford University Press, 2008. http://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780199534043.001.0001/acref-9780199534043-e-287. 27 John Scott and Gordon Marshall, "assimilation," In A Dictionary of Sociology, Oxford University Press, 2009. http://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780199533008.001.0001/acref-9780199533008-e-100. 26

Jewish identity is lost.28 The implication here is that one replaces one`s own culture with the new one. This dichotomy of assimilation vs. acculturation is examined by Leon Botstein and his ideas are meaningful for our discussion.

There are complications involved in using the terms “assimilation vs. acculturation,” for they have brought with them an enormous amount of baggage through their various uses in scholarly work. As Botstein explains, in trying to define the Jew as a subject, historians collected a set of tools and designated social and cultural claims that include “dynamic ideal types” which they use to describe the European experience of being “Jewish.”29 The problematic result of these designations, however, is a conflation of all diverse Jewish experiences into a generalized one that inevitably includes aspects of both assimilation and acculturation. Botstein notes the automatic thought process (when using or reacting to these concepts) that allows “these terms

[to] assume a process of going from one defined status and adapting to or disappearing into another.”30 He specifically points out, however, the problem with the acceptance of this logic, particularly in the nineteenth century, when there is “a period of radical secularization and economic transformation” and there is a possibility that new types or categories of groups formed both within Jewish and Christian social groups, which, as a result, blurred the boundaries between Jew and Gentile, insider and outsider and so on.31 So Botstein suggests that “the Jews we treat together in history did not share as much as we would like to imagine, even in terms of basic religious beliefs or practices.”32 Thus the use of assimilation and acculturation in defining the Jewish experience may not be completely appropriate in attempting to understand or explain

28John Bowker, ed., "Assimilation," In The Concise Oxford Dictionary of World Religions, Oxford University Press, 2000. http://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780192800947.001.0001/acref-9780192800947-e-728. 29 Leon Botstein, “The Jewish Question in Music,” in The Musical Quarterly 94/4 (Winter 2011): 445-46. 30 Ibid., 448. 31 Ibid. As he states, “Those Jews who sought to construct identities in the post-Emancipation period may have assimilated, so to speak, into something new, and in that process helped define a reality collaboratively with other social forces. They did not disappear into any stable existing category (center or majority).” 32 Ibid., 444. 27

the behaviour of certain German Jews because of the “reductive manner in which the status of being Jewish is framed.”33 The reason I have chosen to bring attention to these concepts is not only for clarification of the differences and yet the interchangeability between the two terms, but also to highlight the current discussions surrounding these concepts, especially Botstein’s nuanced explanation of the Jews’ relationship to society, which should be kept in mind when attempting to situate the experiences of Brüll and Jadassohn in their respective cultural scenes.

What is Jewish Music?

As contemporary scholarship has shown, defining Jewish music has proven to be a complicated endeavour, and it is unlikely that just one definitive statement can be made. As

Jonathan Friedmann states, “National and regional variations, denominational and generational preferences, community and personal choice, and other factors have made isolating what is

‘Jewish’ in Jewish music an almost impossible task.”34 Attempting to identify certain song types, prayer modes, or instrumental conventions as “sounding Jewish” is immediately complicated by factors concerning Eastern versus Western contexts, and all that this encompasses along with processes of textual and musical interpretation.35 Earlier attempts at defining Jewish music tried to uncover a common strand that links all Jewish music to an ancient source, while contemporary attempts actually deny the existence of a unified musical stream and refrain from designating

33 Ibid. As he explains, “The Jews in history are no longer defined by their own choices, by who they were and how they lived. They have been redefined reductively as objects of history and rounded up (and this is an intentionally provocative metaphor) by historians along the very terms adopted by their enemies” (441-42). He also concludes “Neither assimilation nor acculturation may be appropriate rubrics to understand the behavior of certain Jews in Germany, France, and, to a lesser extent, pre-1917 Russia, particularly within an intellectual class that includes professionals and artists, precisely because the reductive manner in which the status of being Jewish (or for that matter “Christian”) is framed” (448). He also argues that “Most often, the impetus to framing what is “Jewish” in history through assimilation or acculturation (words whose very linguistic character suggests a reality that may be fictional) is justified by referencing a specific historical context of anti-Semitism” (448). 34Jonathan L. Friedmann, ed., Perspectives on Jewish Music: Secular and Sacred (New York: Lexington Books, 2009), vii. 35 Rubin & Baron, Music in Jewish History, xxii. 28

specific styles of music as fundamentally Jewish.36 So we must proceed with caution in attempts to designate what constitutes Jewish music because of the complexities involved.

We could simply look at “music written by Jews” but this is also problematic as not only are there examples of Jewish songs which have non-Jewish origins, but also the focus on an individual’s Jewish origins in relation to authenticity is hard to gauge and moves too closely to a racial ideology which we also want to avoid.37 Emanuel Rubin and John H. Baron make clear that there is no cemented musical style, language, nationality, religion, or even relationship to liturgy, that would allow us to point to “Jewish” musical characteristics in the same way that we can point to Scottish, Italian, French, etc.38 Musical style is usually “molded to continuous geographical proximity,” and because Jews were essentially denied such proximity thanks to the

Diaspora, the result was no single Jewish musical style that could be readily acknowledged because in many cases, Jews absorbed or adapted music from the society they lived in.39

Attempting to designate specific melodic or harmonic content or expression as the central core of Jewish music would be a misunderstanding of the historical experience of Jewish people.40 Thus, Rubin and Baron designed this working definition: “Jewish music is music that serves Jewish purposes,” because, according to them, music with a specific Jewish purpose is the only kind that can be truly Jewish.41 The contemporary scholarship that defines Jewish music in this manner is highlighted by Friedmann, as that which has Jewish “functions” such as: music for

36 Friedmann, Perspectives on Jewish Music, vii. 37 Rubin and Baron, Music in Jewish History, xxiv. 38 Ibid., For example the augmented second, which is a characteristic sound of Klezmer and the Eastern Synagogue, has its origins with the Moslems from the middle ages and it also bound to the Gypsy folk musicians from Eastern Europe. Also one could consider the Israeli dance the “hora” which has its origins in Romania. 39 Ibid., xxv. Attempting to define Jewish music usually grows out of a concern for national or ethnic identity and this is difficult with Jewish music because of the lack of proximity to any one place over time because of the Diaspora, whereas for French or Brazilian music it is easier to find common characteristics connected to geographical location. 40 Ibid., xxiv-xxvi. Only with the combination of characteristics, sound, logic, affect, and purpose, which are involved in finding any kind of identity in music, can one come closer to defining Jewish music. 41 Ibid. Rubin and Baron note that Jewish purposes changed over time, once they discovered new opportunities along with constraints which shaped their identity and destiny. This is all they could concretely conclude on. 29

synagogue, Jewish weddings, Jewish theater, etc. and the wide variety of musical genres and styles which fall under the larger category of Jewish music.42 Just because this music has a

Jewish function does not necessarily mean that it easily defines what Jewish music is; this is also made evident in Bohlman’s opinion that the “identity of Jewishness depends on where Jewish music takes place […] place has always problematized identity […] place may be local or trans- local […] [and] Jewishness affixes itself to and transforms place when it is performed.”43 So all categories of music associated closely with the Jews must be elaborated on briefly to fully understand their relationship to music, how it was made, used, whom it affected, and ultimately show how various types of music contribute to the multivalent concept of Jewish music.

Synagogue Music

Music heard, played, and sung in the synagogue is the first type of Jewish music to consider. Three distinct traditions of Jewish liturgical music evolved over time including:

Sephardic/Judeo-Spaniolic (from Iberia), Oriental-North African/Mediterranean/Near East

Asian, and the Ashkenazic (general Europe), originally cultivated by the early Jewish settlers in the Rhine Valley that happen to be the focus of this study.44 Bohlman outlines the cyclical nature of synagogue music in connection to liturgy and ritual, which meant that music was bound

42 Friedmann, Perspectives on Jewish Music, vii-viii. He furthers that this music also means different things and serves different purposes for the people who produce and/or experience it 43 Bohlman, Jewish Music, xxxii. 44 Heskes, Passport to Jewish Music: Its History, Traditions, and Culture (London: Greenwood Press, 1994), 48. According to Heskes, the term Ashkenazic refers to general Europe but was “derived from the early Jewish settlers in the Rhine Valley during the Roman Empire”; Philip Bohlman and Otto Holzapfel, eds., The Folk Songs of Ashkenaz (Wisconsin: A-R Editions Inc., 2001), 2. Bohlman and Holzapfel also focus on music of the Ashkenazic Jews and trace their origins to the Rhine Valley. They further explain that as time progressed the Ashkenazic boundaries expanded to larger parts of Central and Eastern Europe. 30

to these contexts and was prevented from flowing outside the synagogue.45 This of course would change over time, as we shall see below.

In essence, the concepts of pre-modern Jewish synagogue music existed only in what music should not do, and Bohlman lists the following: music should not obscure text, and instruments, polyphony, and women’s voices were prohibited in the synagogue.46 As modernity became more apparent the music of the synagogue also evolved. If we look at the eighteenth century in particular, during a period when Western music was reaching its “highest splendour,”

Werner explains that Jews took little notice of it, since Jewish secular music was represented by folk musicians. Since this folk non-religious music was scorned by the rabbis, there was little art music in the ghetto during this time; the only music that remained was that inside the synagogue.47 Eventually the synagogue began to absorb Classical music, a natural consequence of the “progressive acculturation of the Jewish community” in which parodies of the Viennese classical style found their way into the synagogue’s music.48 There were imitations of art music in both Western and Eastern European synagogues, and Werner states that “the loftier the heights reached in the music of the Gentiles, the more pitiful the Jewish attempts to imitate it – the gulf could not be bridged.”49 Thus, Jews of the eighteenth century were interested in contemporary art

45 Bohlman, Jewish Music, xix. The cyclic nature he refers to is the liturgical calendar and celebrations of birth, marriage, holidays, death, etc. in connection with music in the synagogue. 46 Ibid., xix. 47Werner, A Voice, 168-69. Werner sees the 18th century as a time of “ugly and miserable decay in Western Jewry.” In short, he is referring to unacceptable public conduct by wealthy Jews due to a time of moral crisis and questioning of the past. Rabbis during this time also saw music as “trivial,” and normally practiced by the klezmorim/folk musicians for entertainment purposes whose skills (they believed) were completely separate from the ritual/synagogue music at that time. 48 Ibid. Essentially music from outside the ghetto began to find its way in mainly through the adaptation of it to synagogue music. There was a popularization of serious music for Jewish masses. 49 Ibid., 185-88. The musical taste and imitation of art music in the synagogue was apparently better in certain small towns in Germany, Moravia, Bohemia, Austria and Northwestern Hungary but still members of the Jewish bourgeois and intelligentsia who had the opportunity to hear or play serious European music (outside of the ghetto) had only contempt for this newly adapted synagogue music, found it degrading and shameful, which resulted largely in alienation of at least a generation from the music of the synagogue. 31

music of the time, so much so that they attempted to adapt it and imitate it in their own synagogue music, however without any real success.

According to Irene Heskes, Jewish music in general reflected Jewish life, and took place in the synagogue but also at home, in the community, or alongside everyday experiences, and regardless of geographical locations it included a “continuity of faith and peoplehood” and a dedicated observance of the time calendar and the life cycle. She highlights the fact that this

Jewish musical heritage was composed of sacred-liturgical and folk-secular materials, where melody and poetics moved freely between the two, which resulted in no clear boundary between sacred and secular.50 That being said, there are still some unique qualities that shaped the Jewish liturgical genre such as: improvisational flow, modal patterns, fixed cantillation signs and specific chant elements, textual focus and clarity of emphasis, congregational interaction, and the strong influence of historic tradition” (See Ex. 2.1.1).51

Ex. 2.1.1 Traditional Synagogue Prayer Modes

In regards to the Ashkenazic tradition Heskes describes in detail three liturgical modes and modal patterns that evolved as leitmotif structures for chanting of sacred texts. Known by the

50 Heskes, Passport, 57. Heskes quotes Psalm 37 “how shall we sing the Lord’s song in another land?” and underlines that all Jews in all locations of the Diaspora asked this question of themselves. 51 Ibid., 58. 32

name of the opening text of a specific prayer these include: 1) Mogeyn Ovos (Shield of the

Biblical Patriarchs), which was in Aeolian minor mode and melodically used for the service chants of Sabbath, Three Festivals, and High Holy Days prayers; its most recognizable characteristics are its “fluctuation to its relative minor and frequent endings on the 5th”;52 2)

Adonoy/Hashem Molokh (God Reigns), in a modified Myxolydian mode with ambiguous major/minor aspects, was used for cantillation as well as chants for Sabbath and High Holy days

(Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur) and other festivals, and includes a plagal variant featuring major-minor departures for recitation of penitential prayer;53 3) Ahavoh Rabboh (Boundless

Love), which was an altered Phrygian mode used for weekdays and Sabbath services, also found in Byzantine Greek Orthodox liturgical chant (ekhos), used more in central Eastern Ashkenazic customs, and “permeated the Yiddish folk songs of eastern European Jewry”;54 4) Mi Sheberakh

(He Who Blesses), a variant Jewish mode which was in Hungarian Dorian (g-a-b-c sharp-d-e flat-f sharp-g) and was utilized for lamentations and penitential prayers, also favored for Yiddish folk dances, and featured the distinctive augmented second interval which also became a recognizable quality of nineteenth century Jewish band entertainment (klezmer, which will be discussed later) in Europe and America.55 As we shall see below, these characteristics influenced folk as well as art music, adding to the complexities in defining Jewish music.

A majority of this music was not written down until the sixteenth century, and not until the nineteenth century was there enough interest to compile it. For example, in late nineteenth

52 Ibid. Aeolian minor = (d-e-f-g-a-b flat-c-d). Regarding the Three Festivals she refers to Sholosh R’golim which are: Sukkoth or Booths/Tabernacles, Pesakh or Passover, and Shavuoth or Festival of Weeks. She also mentions that elements of this mode were further adapted as an intonation for religious studies and this mode has been associated with sentiments of peace, hope, and thanksgiving. She concludes that is has historically been the most widely used of the Jewish modal patterns. 53 Ibid. Modified Mixolydian = ([a-b]-c-d-e-f-g-a-b flat-c-[d-e flat]). 54 Ibid., 58-59. Altered Phrygian = ([c sharp-d]-e-f-g sharp-a-b-c-d-[or d sharp]-e). Heskes describes this modal pattern as “reflection of deeply emotional expressions of supplication.” 55 Ibid., 59. Hungarian Dorian (g-a-b-c sharp-d-e flat-f sharp-g). 33

century, the Birnbaum Collection emerged, thanks to the efforts of Eduard Birnbaum, the cantor, composer and scholar. This collection was essentially a compilation of synagogue music of the eighteenth century that included some nineteenth century pieces.56 The collection can be grouped into three parts: 1) manuscripts of large communities (Prague, Leipzig, Strasbourg, etc.);57 2) manuscripts from small rural communities (South Germany and Austria);58 and 3) the oral tradition of table songs and zemirot (eighteenth and nineteenth centuries).59 What we can conclude from collections such as this is that Jewish sacred music varied depending on geographical location, and that especially during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, it was heavily influenced by art music (secular) heard outside of the ghetto both in style and form. We can also conclude that the more traditional sacred works that were not imitations of contemporary art music were very simplistic, but ultimately there is no clear boundary between sacred and secular music.

Kol Nidrei is one of the best-known Jewish liturgical melodies and as such has attracted many settings by various composers, Jewish and non-Jewish alike.60 Because it is commonly referred to as “Jewish music,” brief attention should be paid to this particular melody. Charles

Heller outlines the paradox regarding Kol Nidrei and the fact that the text is essentially a dry legal formula concerning vows related to Yom Kippur (holiest day of the year) and it is nothing more than this simple statement: “All personal vows we make, we publicly renounce. Let them

56 Ibid., 170-72. The Birnbaum Collection was compiled by Eduard Birnbaum (1855-1920). 57Werner, A Voice, 171-72. This first section is said to be influenced by classical and operatic music, featuring the Rococo style with flourishes and frills ubiquitous with eighteenth century works, and many of the works imitated classical forms such as the minuet, rondo, and polonaise. Interestingly, these are said to be the oldest collection of songs yet they neglect the Hebrew texts. The large quantity of compositions in this manner remind us that the synagogue was also the concert and music hall for many Jews has they were not permitted access to concerts or the opera and so this was what they got instead. The music was inspired by what was heard outside of the ghetto. 58 Ibid., 172. These works were simply those of men who were attempting to codify the old plain traditions with emphasis on purity which meant no embellishments or organ. These were written in order to preserve otherwise oral traditions. 59 Ibid., 184-85. The table songs are typically Moravian instead of Polish. 60 Charles Heller, What to Listen for in Jewish Music (Toronto: Ecanthus Press, 2006), 48. Schoenberg, Bruch, and even Jadassohn are just a few composers who set this melody. 34

be null and void.”61 As we can see, the text itself has no overtly religious or Jewish designations, and so it was the melody that eventually came to represent the sanctity of Yom Kippur itself. The musical melody has taken on greater significance than that actual text which it accompanies.62

The opening phrase, “We give permission to pray with sinners” was added in the thirteenth century in connection with vicious attacks on European Jews during that time and it was added for Jews who actually survived thanks to conversion which resulted in the acquisition of a new meaning: “the forgiveness of oaths to a new faith made under duress.”63 The actual Kol Nidrei melody did not exist at first; it was first simply chanted and a distinctive melody later emerged with the Ashkenazic Jews of Europe, becoming clarified in the sixteenth century (See Ex.

2.1.2).64 The two most prominent examples of Kol Nidrei settings include Max Bruch’s Kol

Nidrei, Op. 47, for cello and orchestra, and Arnold Schoenberg’s Kol Nidrei for Rabbi-narrator, mixed chorus, and orchestra, Op. 39 (See Ex. 2.1.3).

Ex.2.1.2 Kol Nidrei Melody, One variant

61 Ibid., 48-49. The text itself arose as “a safeguard to the sanctity of vows” so the New Year wouldn’t begin with unfinished business (personal vows which don’t affect others). It was created around the eighth century and in the eleventh century the vows became about the upcoming year instead of the past one. The original does survive but with several amendments leaving it a rather chaotic text. 62 Ibid. According to Heller, there is no single version of this melody which actually exists, a variety of versions are used and what really happened was the process of adding a series of flourishes together over time. When he refers to the text’s lack of religious or Jewish designation, he means that the words themselves have no specific connection nor do they refer specifically to religion and nor do they (or the text in general) have Jewish designations. It is possible that the vows might be part of Jewish law, but the words themselves are not connected to either. 63 Ibid., 50. 64 Ibid., 49-50. The fact that it originated with the Ashkenazic Jews meant that it had no connection to the Spanish Inquisition as suggested by Schoenberg. The Spanish persecution of the Jews did however strengthen the role of practicing and reciting Kol Nidrei but had no influence or connection to the music. 35

Ex.2.1.3 Schoenberg’s Kol Nidrei Melody65

Salomon Sulzer (1804-90) holds a prominent position in the history of Jewish liturgical music and the synagogue, and it is appropriate to showcase his legacy in connection with synagogue music at this juncture. What was previously called the hazzan, or the leader of the

Jewish congregation became the cantor in the nineteenth century because of Sulzer’s reforms.66

As the Jewish cantor of the Vienna community at the age of 23, he also “became part of

Viennese life, an intimate of artistic circles in that strange environment, vacillating between tranquility and strife, attending secret meetings of democratic, revolutionary artists, poets, and musicians.”67 Sulzer was greatly influenced by Franz Schubert and is noted for a “combined knowledge of Jewish tradition, high musical erudition, and a full appreciation of classical music.”68 He introduced the organ into the synagogue service and aspired to the unity of Judaism and its liturgy. Sulzer’s compositional output consists of three volumes of compositions: Schir

Zion (1839),69 Schir Zion II (1865),70 and Dudaim (1850).71 He was said to have been an imposing and majestic figure, with a magnificent voice, and his popularity once saved him from a jail sentence that he received while fighting during the 1848 revolutions as a democrat.72 His legacy to the synagogue service, including the music was certainly influential and important.

65Peter Gradenwitz, The Music of Israel: From the Biblical Era to Modern Times, 2nd Edition (Portland, Oregon: Amadeus Press, 1996), 238. This example is a reproduced version of Schoenberg’s Kol Nidrei melody. 66 Heskes, Passport, 58. Reforms involved a variety of things including addition of the organ. 67 Werner, A Voice, 211. 68 Ibid. He aspired to “mediate between past and future” by restoring some traditions but also keeping with the times. 69 Ibid., 213. The first volume was considered more traditional featuring 5-8 part a cappella settings. 70 Ibid., 214. The second volume had more modal elements, described as “folksy.” 71 Ibid. 72 Ibid., 215. 36

Folk Song

Jewish folk song cannot be discussed in an overly simplified manner; as Bohlman explains, “Jewish folk music does not parse into categories that articulate genre and function.

Even in the most rural Jewish settlements… [It] is distinctive because of its instability and its propensity to undergo change.”73 The boundaries between Jewish and non-Jewish music were not clear, as exchange between the two was common and differed between locations and communities. Bohlman outlines three processes of exchange and contact which occurred between Jews and non-Jews and which contributed to the mixing and remixing of identities in

Jewish music and they are as follows: border-crossing, hybridity, and the interplay of selfness and otherness.74 These factors constantly affect the definition of folk music and the question is whether or not any generalizations can be made about specific characteristics or qualities that belong to Jewish folk music.

Abraham Zevi Idelsohn (1882-1938), the well-known cantor, composer, and musicologist, is significant to the discourse of Jewish folk music, as his journey to the

Mediterranean in search of “authentic Jewish music” that was isolated and untouched by modern influences added to the perspective of Jewish folk music in the early twentieth century. He showed the areas in which this music did not live up to all the preconceived expectations it was originally given.75 Idelsohn’s initial expectations of authentic music were based on the following conditions: “Jerusalem was the historical and geographical center of Jewish music,” Jewish music was practiced in the synagogue, music was vocal, texts were connected to liturgy, ritual,

73 Bohlman, Jewish Music, 3. 74 Ibid. Many songs originate at border regions which meant identities bore witness to border-crossing. Hybridity occurred as variables within song and dance repertoires intersected because of the similarity of styles and repertories. 75 Ibid., 44. Idelsohn’s desire to find authentic music in the Mediterranean had to do with a long history of the Mediterranean’s association with the timeless past, where things remained unchanged and pure. This is a theme connected with Orientalism and the construction of the East which Said and others have elaborated on in extensive detail. Idelsohn was afraid of Jewish music becoming “Germanized” and was in search of music that existed prior to Germanization. 37

and prayer, songs had a pure form which remained intact through oral transmission, “Jewish music was timeless,” communities of Palestine were isolated and survived the diaspora, the shapes of melody and form of individual songs were uniquely Jewish and thus permitted no exchange with non-Jewish traditions, and finally Jewish music encoded or expressed aspects of ethnic or national identity.76 However, the music he encountered (recorded and published) brought to light different results, forcing him to revise those expectations and the conditions which now included that: “musical difference fills in the spaces of a historical and geographical map of the diaspora;” “boundaries of sacred and secular blur;” “musical change is [thus] normative;” and “individual performers leave their imprint on Jewish music, pushing it ineluctably towards stylistic borders.”77

In attempting to pin down more specific characteristics, Aron Rothmuller in his 1975 study designated the “Oriental Jews” as having the folksongs which “appear more original, more genuine and more Semitic” in comparison to the European Jews. He lists a number of “oriental qualities” recognizable to the Western musician which include: tonality based on quarter-tone intervals; singing in unison without accompaniment; free rhythm and meter; rich ornamentation in the melody; and the connection of generally religious or ceremonial songs to religious customs.78 In regards to European Jews, if we consider the multi-national landscape in nineteenth century Europe, there is no rigid boundary between any folk groups because of the reciprocal interactions which took place resulting in an “affinity in character” of their folk song.79 For

Rothmuller, the main difference of Jewish folk song from other European folksong was the

76 Ibid., 44. 77 Ibid., 45. Individual performers could include everything between religious to klezmer musicians. 78 Aron M. Rothmuller, Music of the Jews (New Jersey: A.S. Barnes & Company, 1975), 168. He notes that they are sung in unison without accompaniment, because they are not suitable for Western harmonization. He also designates the Yemenite Jews as a group whose songs are very characteristic of these oriental qualities. Common folk songs of the Yemenites include: Halleloth, Zafat, Chidduyoth, Neshit, Shiroth, and Zemiroth. 79 Ibid. 38

language (Hebrew or Yiddish) and the mood (“dark subdued effect”) and that it was usually taken from or influenced by Jewish religious songs, with a simple melody, plain harmony, clear and definitive rhythm, and usually minor mode (See Ex. 2.2.1).80

Ex.2.2.1 Example of Yiddish Folksong

Jewish folksongs in general were supposed to reflect life and conditions of the Jews, and

Badchen Songs of the nineteenth century, heard at weddings and other celebrations usually commented on current events or topics with a “witty treatment.”81 Many Jewish folksingers became famous in their respective communities and published collected editions of their songs.

On the other hand there were the instrumental composers and players, klezmorim (coming from the Hebrew words klei zemer = instruments for song) who commonly produced instrumental music to match these songs.82 Rothmuller also notes the “specific manner of growing more and more rhapsodic, [with] music rising to a more and more exalted intensity” in Ashkenazic folk tunes, and that some songs have this “fervour" to them which he finds specific to this kind of

80 Ibid., 170-71. Sometimes Jewish folk songs took on a recitative form. As for tonality, the minor mode was common although a few appeared in major, the 7th degree was usually not raised and Dorian and Phrygian modes were used most often. Rothmuller also notes that minor mode doesn’t mean sad or mournful as one has come accustomed to understanding. Minor in this case refers to a “dark, subdued” mood which has in part to do with the fact that most Jews lived in unhealthy, gloomy conditions of the ghetto. 81 Ibid., 172. Badchen were folk singers. 82 Ibid. Some of these famous folksingers included: Wolwil Zbaraschler Ehrenkranz (1826-83), Abraham Goldfaden (1840-1908) known for his operettas, and Mark Warschawsky (1845-1907). 39

Jewish music.83 Ashkenazic folk song in particular contained a “remarkable play of images, stereotypes, and symbolic representations of numerous Others” according to Bohlman, in genres such as Jewish broadsides (discussed below) or cabaret songs which commonly depended on parody (to deliver their message) which naturally depended on stereotypes to be understood.84

More importantly folk songs and the variety of genres and forms that belong to this category

“bear witness to the complex ways in which anti-Semitism came to shape European discourses of otherness” in not only their texts and verbal descriptions, but also in the imagery such as wood cuts or engravings which commonly accompanied broadsides for example.85

Eastern European Jews, who more commonly lived in self-contained communities, had more variety of folk song than other Western Jews and the content and mood of these songs reflected closely their lifestyles and customs.86 Rothmuller finds several distinguishable groups of Eastern Jewish folk songs, based on content and mood which include: children’s songs, marching songs, love songs, wedding songs, cradle songs, dance songs and tunes, humorous and satirical songs, religious and mystical songs, nature songs, soldiers songs, and workers and pioneer songs (See Ex. 2.2.2).87 The Chasidim (devout) were a Jewish sect of Eastern Europe known for a distinctive, tense, and expressive kind of folksong, because of a freer expression of religious feelings where singing was a very important way for expression. Many of their songs had no words and in general they are the most original in form and character of all Jewish folk songs.88

83 Ibid., 290. He notes this fervour as a “quality of rapture” which is present in European Jewish folk music and in their lullabies and some liturgical music too. 84 Bohlman and Holzapfel, eds., The Folk Songs of Ashkenaz (Wisconsin: A-R Editions Inc., 2001), 9. 85Ibid. 86Rothmuller, Music of the Jews 173. 87Ibid., 173-74. He notes the boundaries between these songs are clear cut and many of them belong in one or more categories. 88 Ibid. According to Rothmuller, Sussman Kisselhoff, an expert in Jewish folk song, states that the Chasidim songs are the most original in form and character of all Jewish folksong. 40

Ex. 2.2.2 “Work Song” from 19th Century

Klezmer (the music of the klezmorim) is another type of folk music worthy of attention.

The term Klezmer was equivalent to instrumental folk musician in old Eastern communities and the concept of the Klezmer band known today originated in medieval Germany and spread throughout Eastern Europe.89 Klezmer groups typically played at various festive events such as weddings, communal celebrations, holidays (Purim/Hanukkah), and non-Jewish parties as well

89Heller, What to Listen For, 248. Heller also mentions that the actual word Klezmer comes from the Biblical expression klei zemer, “musical instruments” and in Yiddish this term was applied to people who played instruments and through an analogous, klei kodesh, which means “holy vessels” in the Bible (pots, knives, etc.) has come to mean clergy in Yiddish, so it is a curious term. 41

(See Ex. 2.2.3).90 Medieval and renaissance pictures of the Klezmer instruments portray recorders, krummhorns, shawms, bagpipes, viols, lutes, and a variety of percussion instruments.

By the nineteenth century the violin became the standard melody instrument and the musical style was “a mixture of Eastern European folk song and oriental modal formulas from the synagogue” brought together by the improvisational skills of the Klezmer players.91 Though they had a reputation as fine players, they were looked down upon by professional Christian musicians as “untutored and musically illiterate,” an opinion which would carry on into the twentieth century.92 Because most of the music was memorized and/or improvised and due to the fact they played under informal circumstances, there was little written on these performances in the way of reviews and as a result, the influence of Klezmer on the history of European music is hard to aptly discern.93 The Klezmer band almost disappeared in twentieth century along with a majority of Eastern European Jewry, and originally they were also looked down upon by the

Jewish synagogue whose essence was vocal music. However, Heller notes that the virtuoso clarinettist remained prominent and Jewish players brought this style to America and influenced jazz musicians including George Gershwin.94 The revival of Klezmer is noted by Heller as “one of the most remarkable features of Jewish music today” as it became popular in the 1970s as a living art with new bands springing up all over. This revival was due to the impact of the

Russian-Israeli clarinet player Giora Feidmann and the emergence of world music as an important category for record companies.95

90 Ibid. 91 Rubin and Baron, Music in Jewish History, 122. 92 Heller, What to Listen for, 248. 93 Rubin and Baron, Music in Jewish History, 122. 94 Heller, What to Listen for, 248. Heller notes Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue as an example, with the opening solo clarinet and which was inspired by the clarinet glissando effect beloved to klezmorim. He also notes improvisation as vital to both Jazz and Klezmer. 95 Ibid., 148-49. He also notes the existence of many non-Jewish klezmer bands that perform for non-Jewish audiences particularly in Germany. 42

Ex. 2.2.3 Example of Klezmer music for the bride

Jewish Theater and Broadsides

Jewish broadsides also existed as a type of folk music which was converted to popular music. A broadside was a song printed on a single sheet of paper in large quantities, and considered a narrative “contrafact” relying on well-known stories and melodies, which often referred to new events such as political and cultural unrest but presented the events using well- worn images and characters.96 A wide knowledge of folk and popular tunes was necessary as many of them were based off of these. Jewish folk music and its transformation into Jewish popular music did not happen the moment that rural Jews entered the metropolis. According to

Bohlman, “musical practices underwent fundamental changes, eliminating the functions of many genres of folk music while generating entirely new roles for vernacular music […] a critical vehicle for the appropriation of the rural folk tradition was the broadside.”97 Prior to the mid- nineteenth century, Jewish themes appeared in Viennese broadsides as essentially anti-Semitic parodies and were essentially a commentary on “the influx of minorities and cultural Others”

(including the Jews) from Eastern rural Europe, as well as on the relation between Jews and non-

Jews (See Ex. 2.2.4).98 Eventually there appeared Jewish broadsides whose composers,

96 Bohlman, Jewish Music, 165. 97 Ibid. 98 Bohlman and Holzapfel, eds., The Folk Songs of Ashkenaz, 127. 43

publishers, and consumers were Jewish.99 Because they reflected stories and events of their day, anti-Semitism was a common and prominent theme, and they were commonly parodies which utilized caricatures and stereotypes to effectively express their message. More importantly, both anti-Semitic and Jewish Broadsides portrayed Jews from Eastern Europe as “comic Others.”100

As Bohlman states, “the very stereotypes in the language of the broadsides and cabaret songs revealed an increasing awareness within the urban Jewish society of the complex position it occupied within the changing world of modernity.”101

Also stemming from folk music is that of Jewish cabaret and the Yiddish musical theater, which should be noted very briefly. Crafted out of various folk traditions, these forms of entertainment occurred in various Jewish communities and the qualities they took on were dependant on local environments.102 Abraham Goldfaden is the founder of modern Yiddish theatre, which began in 1876 in Romania. He collaborated with another Yiddish entertainer,

Yisroel Grodner, and developed a professional touring troupe performing what could be considered operettas that included stage props, costumes, and a mixture of dialogue and melodic numbers. Yiddish musical theatre commonly relied on biblical themes and allegories that were often mixed with modern themes such as the “secularization of tradition or immigration to the

New World.”103 The first Jewish cabaret was the Budapest Orpheum-Gesellschaft established in

1889; the cabaret songs frequently heard there and elsewhere concerned topics of country Jews travelling from the East that never quite adapted to modern culture for example, and commonly

99 Philip Bohlman, “Composing the Cantorate: Westernizing Europe’s Other Within,” In Western Music and Its Others, eds. Georgina Born and David Hesmondhalgh (California: University of California Press, 2000), 200. 100 Bohlman and Holzapfel, eds., The Folk Songs of Ashkenaz, 128. 101 Bohlman, Jewish Music, 180. 102 Heskes, Passport, 132. 103 Bohlman, Jewish Music, 206-07, 212. Bohlman explains that “the very mobility of theatrical troupes, moreover, meant that many actors were acting out themes of immigration and emigration from their own lives.” He also states that “Yiddish theater was by no means always dramatic or serious, but it did not rely extensively on comedy. Its subject matter was close to home and familiar for the Yiddish-speaking audiences.” 44

employed stereotyped images as well.104 Bohlman also explains that, “the cabaret embodied many different genres of popular song and entertainment,” was based on couplet-singing and parody repertoires, and commonly contained political, social, and even Zionist themes.105

Ex.2.2.4 Viennese Broadside with Jewish Stereotypes

Although an entire dissertation could be written on the variations and complexities of

Jewish folk music, the scope of this study does not permit further detail. What we can conclude on Jewish folk song and all its guises, in the most general sense, is that boundaries are blurred between religious and secular, and characteristics of both overlapped constantly, and varied from

104 Bohlman and Holzapfel, eds., Folk Songs of Ashkenaz, 128. 105 Bohlman, Jewish Music, 207-08. 45

community to community. Language and simplistic forms are prominent and in general, folk songs usually reflect the conditions and experiences of Jewish life no matter where they are geographically located. Folksong accompanied all the important milestones of Jewish life as well as everyday experiences. As a result, musical expression was ultimately formed by their diverse circumstances.

Jewish Composers and Musicians: Contributions to Art Music and its Sphere

A more detailed look at Jewish composers and musicians and their contributions to art music is necessary in order not only to situate the figures of Brüll and Jadassohn, but also to understand how Jews related to the music culture around them, which in turn affected their positions in society. While, as Philip Bohlman states, “Jewish music begins with Salamone

Rossi,” a prominent sixteenth century Jewish composer, there were relatively few other known

Jewish composers before the nineteenth century.106

As we proceed to the nineteenth century, more Jewish musicians emerged in Europe and had to negotiate new challenges relating to emancipation, such as education outside the ghetto, performances with and for non-Jews, and self-doubts about commitments to former traditions and life styles.107 Emancipation was at first glance alluring and promising, but in reality was an unfortunate illusion with unmet expectations for those who believed separation from Judaism

106 Heskes, Passport, 259. Rossi was a string player, teacher, composer and conductor who was employed as a court musician from 1589-1628 by two Mantuan patrons, the Dukes Vincent and Fernando Gonzaga. These patrons granted him permission to no longer wear the yellow patch designating him as Jew in 1606 and allowed him freedom of passage throughout the duchy. Heskes notes that Rossi’s patrons also employed a variety of other Jewish performers including actors, dancers, singers, musicians. They also allowed the building of a synagogue in Mantua and it was not unusual for Jewish artists and artisans to be employed at various ducal and affluent families in Northern Italy. He is most noted for his introduction of a monodic form to instrumental music, for his development of the trio sonata for strings, and among the first to develop the variation technique, with his general works bridging the Renaissance (florid styles) and Baroque (more clarified monody) periods. [Rubin and Baron, Music in Jewish History, 141]. Rossi also had Jewish patrons which included Rabbi Yehuda Arieh da Modena and Moses Sullam. 107 Heskes, Passport, 264. 46

would constitute “the viable means.”108 Jews who did receive recognition in nineteenth century musical life deserve attention at this point to highlight the various ways they dealt with their roots in relation to their participation in musical culture. France presented a slightly different situation to the Jews in comparison to Germany. Because of the French Revolution and the result of equality and emancipation, Jews did not have the urgent need to convert as they did elsewhere, and most remained loyal to their origins.109 The following composers of Jewish origins are considered the most prominent from France during the nineteenth century.

Giacomo Meyerbeer (1791-1864) was a pivotal figure in modern French opera. He changed his name from Jakob Liebman Beer for his concert career, which took him from

Germany, his native country, to Italy and then France, where he remained while developing his idea of Grand Opera.110 His most prominent works dealt with ethical topics which were considered advanced for the time, including Robert Le Diable (1831), Les Huguenots (1836), Le

Prophète (1849), and L’Africaine (1865); his innovative musical ideas were quite influential.111

Interesting to note was the fact that he was a friend and financier to Richard Wagner, who later turned on him with vicious anti-Semitic attacks.112 According to Heskes, some of his critics envied his popularity and success and accused him of “pandering to the public interest”; as a result “he felt socially isolated throughout his life, despite the fact that he was quite famous and prosperously successful.”113 He did set some liturgical music and was a member of the Jewish congregation in both Berlin and Paris and at his death he received a Jewish ritual funeral.

108 Ibid. 109 Rubin and Baron, Music in Jewish History, 218. 110 Heskes, Passport, 264. Heskes notes that he mastered the Italian style while in Italy and under the influence of Cherubini and Halevy. He also contributed ballet music and various instrumental works however opera was his main musical domain. His operas were large scale dramatic works with extravagant melodic ideas with texts by Eugène Scribe (1791-1861). 111 Ibid., 265. 112 Ibid. 113 Ibid., 265-66. 47

Fromental Halevy (1799-1862) was born in Paris, studied at the Paris Conservatory and won the Grand Prix de Rome in 1819—the first Jew to do so.114 He composed more than twenty operas; his most successful work, La Juive (The Jewess), also had a libretto by Scribe. The way in which it “portrayed the ugliness of Christian intolerance of Jews through a violent story that sees hero and heroine–-both Jews—die a horrible death because of their religion” was significant as it conveyed to the French public for the first time “convincingly and poignantly the Jews’ unique calamity of being accepted politically but not socially.”115 By 1857 he became the

Secretary of the Paris Academie de Beaux Arts, considered a highly honourable position.116 He was very active in the Jewish community affairs and there is a statue of him in the Jewish cemetery in Montmartre.117

Jacques Offenbach (1819-80) was another musician of Jewish origin who was born in

Cologne and later settled in Paris.118 He was a very influential and prolific composer with over

100 stage works; his most notable operas include Orphée aux Enfers (1858), La Belle Helène

(1864), La Vie Parisienne (1866), La Grande Duchesse de Gerolstein (1867), La Perichole

(1868), and Les Contes d’Hoffman (1881). Peter Gradenwitz notes the “Jewish” traits of sarcasm, satire and irony prominent in Offenbach’s works, which he believes Jews had developed as a weapon of the weak against centuries of oppression.119 By the time of his death, though not baptized as a Christian, he had assimilated to such an extent that he was far removed

114 Ibid., 266. He later taught at the Conservatory, was considered a tremendously valued teacher (of Bizet, Gounod, Massenet and Offenbach) in Paris and in 1829 became the conductor at the Grand Opera 115 Rubin and Baron, Music in Jewish History, 218. The conveyance of the “Jews’ unique calamity” had never been done so in the entire French Haskalah and the fame or popularity of La Juive resulted in the success of the Haskalah opening up French culture to a Jewish voice. I should also note that anti-Semitism was not the only portrayal of Jewish life in La Juive; the Seder and warmth of the Jewish ritual was also represented. 116 Heskes, Passport, 266-67. 117 Ibid., 267. 118 Ibid. His operas were large scale dramatic works with extravagant melodic ideas with texts by Eugène Scribe (1791-1861). 119 Gradenwitz, The Music of Israel, 188. He also mentions that Jews are masters of caricature and satire in literature, painting and music and are particularly attracted to the grotesque in music. 48

from his origin; and yet, despite the fact that his musical output had hardly any Jewish melodic resemblances, his operatic works were attacked on more than one occasion during his career by anti-Semitic critics as a “Judaic invasion of opera.”120

Poland and Russia deserve brief attention at this point to further clarify the situation outside our geographical place of study. The largest Jewish population in Europe lived in Poland, leading to more intense conflicts between assimilationists and traditionalists.121 During the period of 1815 to 1830, liberalism prevailed in Poland and individual enlightened Jews were allowed to mix easily with the intelligentsia; some became successful, rich, and respected while maintaining ties to their Jewish heritage.122 Maria Szymanowska (1789-1831) was a secular

Jewish composer who converted to Catholicism and as such was allowed to study music. She was a successful pianist who toured France, Poland and Russia.123 Joseph Wolff, a Jewish physician, hosted a well-known salon; his descendants included his son Edward Wolff (1816-80) a pianist, and his grandson Henri Wieniawski (1835-80) who became one of the most famous violinists of the nineteenth century.124 Later in the century, despite the worsening conditions between Jews and Christians in Europe as a whole, “Jewish musicians—whether practising Jews or not—were highly regarded and participated fully in Polish musical life.”125

As for Russia, Jews did not factor into the history of Russian music prior to the middle of the nineteenth century; yet, by the twentieth century, Jews in fact dominated the classical music performance scene.126 The reason for this was the fact that foreign musicians and foreign art abounded in Russia until the 1830s and 40s when nationalist movements and therefore

120 Heskes, Passport, 268. 121 Rubin and Baron, Music in Jewish History, 223. The German Haskalah movement came to Poland in the early nineteenth century; before that, the “enlightened Jews had no recourse to secular Polish art except if they converted.” 122 Ibid. 123 Ibid. 124 Ibid. 125 Ibid. 126 Ibid., 224. 49

nationalist music were developing. Anton Rubinstein (1829-94), though of Jewish origins, had been baptized Russian Orthodox (to escape poverty and degradation) and debuted in Paris in

1841 as a top artist of that time.127 He moved in the same circles as Chopin, Liszt, Berlioz,

Meyerbeer, and Moscheles, and was responsible for establishing the first Music Conservatory in

Russia. As for Jewish topics, he wrote two operas, The Maccabees (1875), Sulamith (1883), and two oratorios, Tower of Babel (1870), and Moses (1892). Though he is said to have been connected to his origins, he did not know where he belonged and who he was: a Russian,

German, Jew, or Christian.128 This is evident from his commonly cited quotation: “The Russians consider me a German and the Germans consider me a Russian, the Christians call me a Jew and the Jews call me a Christian.”129 Nicholas Rubinstein (1835-81), Anton’s younger brother, was also a pianist but was better known as a pedagogue, responsible for establishing the Moscow

Conservatory in 1866 and becoming the predominant musical leader in the Moscow music scene as a result.130 By the end of the nineteenth century there was a Jewish nationalist movement present among other minority movements in Eastern Europe. Individuals such as Saul Ginsberg

(1866-1940) and Pesach Marek (1862-1920) were collecting Jewish folksongs claiming them to be the “true voice of the Jewish people,” attempting to save the otherwise oral tradition of Jewish folksong from extinction, and ultimately promoting artistic settings of these songs in the concert halls at the time.131

In Germany and Austria, where emancipation came later than in France, Jews were considered “an easy scapegoat for the ills of the German people” and the more wealth and

127 Ibid., 225. 128 Ibid., 226. 129 Ibid., 225. 130 Ibid. I should note that the Moscow Conservatory is now called the Tchaikovsky Conservatory. 131 Ibid., 226. These were Jewish historians. Also mentioned is Joel Engel (1868-1940) who wrote down melodies of collected songs and published the first of these in 1905. 50

success Jews received in the arts (and other high level positions), the more Germans felt it took away from their own prosperity.132 Because of the negativity surrounding Judaism at that time, most musicians in Germany and Austria converted to Christianity in order to further their chances at success, resulting in their acceptance of prevailing aesthetics in art and music.

Unfortunately, anti-Semitism was widespread and the result was that no matter how one suppressed their roots or adapted their musical contributions to fit those of the German composers, “German musicians of Jewish origins were [considered] outcasts.”133 This particular statement is in part what this study is trying to get to the bottom of: were all musicians of Jewish origins in Germany and Austria considered outcasts or were they better assimilated and received than we realize? The composers of Jewish origins discussed below highlight the ways in which conversion and assimilation were important to success but did not necessarily achieve equality.

Felix Mendelssohn (1809-47) was one of the most prominent German Jewish musicians in the history of Western European music and his contribution and overall position in the culture is relevant to this study. Because his family converted early in his life, he knew very little of

Judaism despite the fact that anti-Semites did not forget his origins.134 For example, Heskes discusses Wagner singling Mendelssohn out, as a Jew who did not fit in, an “artistic parasite,” which eventually led to the ban on his music and memory under the Nazi regime.135 Another intriguing development in the evolution of discourse regarding Mendelssohn during the nineteenth century, and directly related to the anti-Semitic attacks on his Jewishness, lies in the switch from describing Mendelssohn as a masculine, balanced, character (early in the century) to

132Ibid., 213. Emancipation for German Jews came in 1812 and in Austria even later, while in France Jews were emancipated thanks to Napoleon in the last decade of the eighteenth century. 133 Ibid., 207 and 214. 134 Ibid., 210. 135 Heskes, Passport, 28. Heskes describes Wagner’s attack on the Jews, and his use of this musical argument: “an assimilated European Jew is neither a member of the Jewish nation (which he has rejected) nor a member of German, or any other, nation (to which he has no historical ties).” This is an opinion which would be shared by those who followed in his anti-Semitic footsteps. 51

an effeminate, nervous character (by the end of the century) and these characteristics were assigned to both the man and his music.136 There are a variety of reasons why this switch occurred but the main reason had to do with the fact that after 1880, a large cultural discourse about masculinity and race flourished and the ideals of manliness present in the Victorian period had changed to a degree in which Mendelssohn no longer fit.137 The image of the feminized Jew was widespread in the scientific and psychological literature of the late nineteenth century, which contributed to the effeminate qualities assigned to Mendelssohn and other Jews during the last decades of the century.138 More could be said on the relationship between femininity and

Jewishness; however, the main point is that even Mendelssohn, who was considered a well assimilated Jew and potentially a model for other Jews attempting similar acceptance into the larger cultural scene at that time, was not free from anti-Semitic attacks (after his death) and as the century progressed the discourse regarding him only increased in anti-Semitic undertones in connection with femininity and Jewishness.

Despite his lack of knowledge and/or involvement in Jewish matters, he was raised to the status of a “Jewish hero” by other Jews, adored for his accomplishments as “a product of Jewish

136 Marian Wilson Kimber, “The Composer as Other: Genre and Race in Biography of Felix Mendelssohn,” in The Mendelssohns: Their Music in History, eds. John Michael Cooper and Julie D. Prandi (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 335. As noted by Kimber, prior to the middle of the nineteenth century, Mendelssohn, “personified the Victorian gentleman; evidence of his ‘manliness’ was found in his class status, his success, his family relations and his music.” However by the end of the century he and his music were criticized for “lacking in the very masculine qualities for which they were previously praised.” A caricature from 1896 by Aubrey Beardsley, entitled “The Savoy” depicted Mendelssohn as effeminate with dangling curls, delicate eye brows, etc. (336). 137Ibid., 337-41. The Victorian constructs of manliness included qualities of earnestness, selflessness, integrity and morality, all of which were derived from the “respectability” and “gentility” of the middle class and before 1880, Mendelssohn’s moral purity was commonly stressed in connection with his personal control and manliness. From 1880-1910, the values of masculinity were altered immensely and the ideals now celebrated were aggressiveness, physical force, focus on athleticism, physical beauty and male camaraderie with the emergence of frat clubs, etc. In this new context, Mendelssohn was now considered effeminate. 138Ibid., 345. This image of the feminized Jew even appears in the writings of nineteenth century Jewish scientists, such as Adolf Jellinek (Ethnologist) in 1869 and his conclusion that “Jews belong, as one of those tribes that are both more feminine and have come to represent the feminine among other peoples.” There was also Heinrich Singer (Physician) who in 1904 opined that , “the Jew most approaches the body type of the female.” And lastly we cannot forget Otto Weininger’s contribution to the connection of female and Jewish characteristics in Geschlecht und Charakter from 1903. 52

mind and soul,” even though musically there is nothing overtly “Jewish” in his works.139 The work most commonly noted in connection with Jewish topics is his oratorio Elijah, which is a translation of Jewish prayers. The music, however, is very much Mendelssohn’s own, even though the bass aria was regarded by many as “Mendelssohn’s private prayer as a Jew,” and the style and bulk of the material was later copied by Jews everywhere as “Jewish music” (See

Ex.2.3.1).140 That is, the sound of his music, noted by Rubin and Baron as a “mixture of 1830’s

Biedermeier harmony with the sentimentalism of the period - became the ideal for the German reformers inside the synagogue (e.g Louis Lewandowski), and once accepted there it became the new sound of the Jewish music wherever it was performed.”141

Ex. 2.3.1 Excerpt of Bass Aria from Mendelssohn’s Elijah

139 Rubin and Baron, Music in Jewish History, 210. 140 Ibid., 211. 141 Ibid., 210. 53

Also to consider is Ferdinand Hiller (1811-85), who studied in Weimar and Vienna where he was recognized as a piano virtuoso and he composed orchestral, chamber and solo works along with vocal selections and oratorios.142 In 1850 he established and directed the Music

Conservatory in Cologne. He was a prolific writer and music critic as well, advocating the operas of both Meyerbeer and Halevy and also published a pedagogical volume on music theory which was widely used in various German conservatories.143 Though he wrote some liturgical settings, he eventually converted and distanced himself considerably from his Jewish origins by the time of this death.144 Works pertaining to Jewish topics such as his opera Die Zerstorung Jerusalems

(The Destruction of Jerusalem) and his cantatas Israels Siegeszug and Rebecca were written without any real consideration of Jewish music.145Another Jewish musical personality is Stephen

Heller (1813-88), also a distinguished pianist, from Hungary, who converted at a young age in order to further his concert career as a pianist in Germany and later Paris. There is nothing overtly “Jewish” found in his music though he was never comfortable as a Jew, even later in

Paris, because of his earlier German anti-Semitic experiences.146 Karl Goldmark (1830-1915) was another notable composer of Hungarian-Jewish origins who lived in Vienna, belonged to the

Brahms’ circle, and was one of numerous composers singled out by anti-Semitic critics. Two of his most notable operas include The Queen of Sheba (1875), and A Winter’s Tale (1905).

Gradenwitz described Goldmark’s orchestral work, Sakuntala (the overture), as “orientally colored,” which is currently considered a highly charged term; however, this description was

142 Heskes, Passport, 269. 143 Ibid. 144 Ibid., Rubin and Baron, Music in Jewish History, 208. Despite his conversion he was never fully accepted, 145 Ibid., 209. Also noted here is his biographer’s insistence on Hiller’s ties to the Jewish world which included his large number of Jewish friends and disciples, the use of the Old Testament for his vocal texts, his deep knowledge and understanding of Jewish rituals and practices, and his respect for the synagogue. 146 Ibid. The only work pertaining to Jewish topics was his oratorio Elijah. 54

from 1949 and before Edward Said’s extensive work on Orientalism two decades later.147 Other composers of note include Ignaz Moscheles (1794-1870), a renowned pianist and professor at the

Leipzig Conservatory. He converted at a young age and dissociated himself from Jewish music as a whole.148 Friedrich Gernsheim (1830-1916) was a student of Marmontel (Paris), of

Moscheles (Leipzig), and of Hiller (Cologne). He is almost forgotten today but was once a great pedagogue and conductor and most of his compositions have no Jewish connotations at all though he maintained his Jewish faith.149 Joseph Joachim (1831-1907) should also be noted for his accomplishments as a virtuoso violinist and his recognition for performing works of

Beethoven, Brahms, Schumann, etc. while also maintaining close friendships with the latter two.

Hermann Levi (1839-1900) was considered one of the most important orchestral conductors in Europe during the last half of the nineteenth century.150 Primarily interested in

Wagner’s operas, he is said to be of great importance in promoting these operas despite the continual anti-Semitic attacks he endured from Wagner.151 He refused to convert, as he did not believe it would solve anything “since baptized Jews were not accepted as full Christians” anyway.152 Levi’s loyalty to Wagner caused conflict with his loyalty to his family and he was

“caught in the abyss of self-hatred caused by his simultaneous love for his ancestors…and for those whose culture he adored but who hated his ancestors.”153 Even after Wagner’s death, he was haunted by self-doubt in his abilities to conduct German works because of how Wagner and

147 Gradenwitz, The Music of Israel, 194. The original edition of this work is from 1949; See Edward Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage, 1979). 148 Rubin and Baron, Music in Jewish History, 208. 149 Ibid., 211. He spent time in Berlin from 1880-1914 conducting and teaching. He also spent time in Paris and associated with Saint-Saëns, Lalo, Rossini, and was good friends with Brahms and Bruch. 150 Ibid. He studied at the Leipzig Conservatory but with a focus on conducting. 151 Ibid., 212. Apparently Wagner’s attacks went to no use and he eventually asked Levi if he would at the very least convert “as to not defile his great Christian opera” [Parsifal], but Levi refused. 152 Ibid. Levi was right as it appears Wagner “joked incessantly about Joachim and other highly regarded musicians who were born Jewish and despite conversion, were inherently unable to be real German musicians.” 153 Ibid., 213. 55

others had “implanted in his mind their continual assertions that a Jew was genetically incapable of understanding the true spirit of German masterpieces.”154 Levi was quite aware of the

“tragedy of his situation” and of all the Jews in Germany and eventually collapsed of a nervous condition; it was not until 1896 that he finally converted.155

Lastly, Gustav Mahler (1860-1911) is one of the more famous examples in relation to

German-Jewish composers and anti-Semitism. His family was well assimilated; likely feeling his Jewishness to be a hindrance, he converted to Catholicism in 1897.156 There is some speculation that part of his reasoning for conversion was to receive a position at the Vienna court opera, since the word Christian was underlined in his employment file (they would not hire

Jews).157 He was recognized as a prominent conductor and distinctions were made between that and his abilities as a composer, especially in criticism after 1900 in which his music was said to

“act Jewish” and his creative abilities were questioned.158 He was caricatured on several occasions, and remarked for his “Jewish” features, such as a big nose and nervous character (See

Ex. 2.3.2). The critics’ assumptions regarding Jewish music will be discussed later, but for now it is safe to say that his music provoked contradictory responses, and according to Karen Painter

“within the wider history of German anti-Semitism, the reception of Mahler is a revealing example of the change from anti-Jewish cultural criticism to outright anti-Semitism.”159 As for actual works that could be designated as “Jewish” (and this depends on a reliable definition of

“Jewish music”), there were very few, as Mahler was well assimilated and trying to achieve

154 Ibid. Cosima Wagner was also guilty of brutal attacks on Levi’s Jewishness despite her otherwise support of him. 155 Ibid. 156 Henry A. Lea, Gustav Mahler: Man on the Margin (Bonn: Bouvier, 1985), 3 and 16. 157 Ibid., 50. 158 Erik Levi, “Anti-Semitic discourse in German writing on music, 1900-1933,” In Western Music and Race, ed. Julie Brown (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007): 172-73. Levi is discussing Richard Louis criticism of Mahler in his Die deutsche Musik der Gegenwart. 159 Karen Painter, “Jewish Identity and Anti-Semitic Critique in the Austro-German Reception of Mahler, 1900-194,” In Perspectives on Gustav Mahler, ed. Jeremy Barham (Burlington: Ashgate Pub. Ltd., 2005), 175-76. 56

acceptance into the musical culture by writing music with Western ideals in mind. Other characteristics in his works, however, were deemed as “Jewish” by the critics and these will be elaborated on in more detail later. His overall musical output from his three distinct compositional periods includes a variety of lieder, ten symphonies (last one unfinished), and an opera.

Ex.2.3.2 Mahler Caricatures

During the nineteenth century in particular, we can see that music participated in the transformation of Jewish identity on two distinct levels: the individual and the communal. As

Bohlman states, music shaped individual identity, cultural mobility, produced forms of social and economic mobility and redefined an individual’s social group and his relationship to other groups as well.160 By the end of the century one thing was certain: “once modernism had been identified as a symptom of all that was wrong with European society in the late nineteenth century, anti-liberal and anti-modernist movements would realize their target by fixing it on Jews and their entry into modern society.”161 Now we must move further into the early twentieth century to understand the situation for the composers who inherited all that came with the previous century.

160 Bohlman, Jewish Music, xx. 161 Ibid. 57

I have selected only two composers who will shed sufficient light on the situation in the early decades of twentieth century Europe. The first is Alexander Zemlinsky (1871-1942), who was a composer and conductor that grew up in a Jewish milieu but converted to Protestantism in

1899 for convenience. According to Antony Beaumont “an understanding of his Semitic roots is essential to an understanding of his art.”162 Like Mahler, Zemlinsky was commonly caricatured with depictions of his Jewish features, with emphasis on his lack of chin (See Ex.2.3.3).163 His compositions include opera, lieder, and symphonic works. His most notable opera, Der Zwerg, deals with issues of ugly appearance, identity, and alienation, and is connected with Zemlinsky’s

Jewish identity and his perspective of his position in Viennese society.164

Ex.2.3.3 Zemlinsky Caricatures

Arnold Schoenberg (1874-1951) was born in Vienna to a middle-class Jewish family and converted to Protestantism out of conviction and not expediency.165 He became an established composer, arranger, and teacher. He is best known for breaking musical traditions early in the twentieth century with his expressionist atonal style in his work Pierrot Lunaire (1912) and the later serial (12 tone) technique of the 1920s. These new compositional methods were beyond the

162 Antony Beaumont, Zemlinsky (London: Faber & Faber, 2000), 3. He moved out of the ghetto in 1899 as well. 163 John D. Barlow, “Alexander Zemlinsky” in American Scholar 61/4 (Fall 1992): 584-90, 586. 164 Sherry D. Lee, “Opera, Narrative, and the Modernist Crisis of Historical Subjectivity,” PhD diss., University of British Columbia, 2003, 139. Lee also elaborates on the caricatures of Zemlinsky which pointed out his ugly features which she sees as connected with the Dwarf character in the opera. 165 Rubin and Baron, Music in Jewish History, 216. 58

traditional concepts of harmony in Western music and were described as the “emancipation of dissonance.”166 His creation of a new harmonic language (where dissonance was accepted) which emphasized melody, was described by Heinrich Berl in 1926 as an “oriental trait.”167 In

1933 with the rise of Hitler, Schoenberg lost his academic positions and fled to Paris where he formally converted to Judaism. He eventually immigrated to America in the 1940s and settled in

Los Angeles, where he wrote, composed, and painted.168 He eventually accepted Judaism as his faith, immersed himself in Jewish social life and ideas, and as a result, 5 of his last 8 works dealt with Jewish themes or topics.169 Particular works noted for Jewish topics include: Kol Nidrei

(1928), Moses und Aron (1930-2) Prologue to the Book of Genesis (1945), and A Survivor from

Warsaw (1947).

The Critics

Though the critics of the late nineteenth century and the early twentieth century were alluded to during the discussion of Mendelssohn, they should receive further attention for their role in defining Jewish music. They shaped the ideas of what characteristics can be considered

Jewish, and how composers of Jewish origins were received, accepted, and successful, regardless of how valid these assumptions were. By the end of the nineteenth century debates regarding

Jewish identity had shifted because of two concurrent reasons including the wider acceptance of

Jewish music as a “fact of modernity”; and the rise of an anti-Semitic discourse which identified

166 Heller, What to Listen for, 263. 167 Ibid.; Bohlman, Jewish Music, x. Bohlman discusses literary historian, Heinrich Berl’s collection of essays from 1926 regarding the question of Jew’s originality in music. Mahler and Schoenberg are among the composers mentioned in which Berl is of the opinion that Jews have an “Asian” relationship to music and that Mahler and Schoenberg created modern music without melodic quality, as they lack the capacity to do so. 168 Heskes, Passport, 273-4. 169 Heller, What to Listen for, 263. 59

Jewishness in music as “one of the dilemmas faced by modern music itself.”170 Jewish musicians found new ways of utilizing their skills, but were at the same time confronted by a “virulent resistance to Jewishness in music.”171 The critics’ “aesthetic agendas required stemming Jewish music and Jewishness in music before they spread too far” and responses followed which furthered the aesthetic debate regarding the threat of Jewish music on modernity.172 The vocabulary formed in relation to Jewishness in music was often connected to racial stereotypes and extra-musical associations which, despite their lack of evidence, were taken as truths based on the authoritative positions many of the writers of the time had obtained. Their opinions, which were commonly motivated by larger political ideologies and personal agendas, were thus given more credibility than was probably deserved.173 These opinions and vocabulary must be outlined further in order to see how Jewish music was perceived and described and what musical characteristics were deemed as “Jewish,” keeping in mind the contributing political, cultural, social factors behind these perceptions and descriptions.

Richard Wagner’s publications are a starting block from which all other criticisms flowed, anti-Semitic or not; critics responded in one way or another to the explanations of

Jewishness in music by Wagner.174 As Bohlman explains, Wagner attempted to “foreclose the history of music for the Jews.”175 For Wagner, there were essentially four conditions of

“Jewishness”: melody and speech, body and race, lack of history, lack of a land that allowed for

170 Bohlman, Jewish Music, 181. 171 Ibid. 172 Ibid. 173 Levi, “Anti-Semitic discourse in German writing on music,” 170. By authoritative positions I mean many critics and other writers on music had other professions such as university or conservatory professorships, physicians or psychologists, etc. Levi notes that a majority of books written were designed for the general public, not the academic crowd. Based on their authoritative positions, their opinions became “unchallenged historical truths.” 174 Ibid, 169. Levi specifically refers to the period from 1900-33 in which “an undercurrent of anti-Semitism remained present in populist musical writing.” Authors who took what they needed from Wagner’s essays for their own interpretations and responses included: Karl Grunsky, Karl Storck, Rudolf Louis, Walter Niemann, Hans Joachim Moser, and Heinrich Berl. 175 Bohlman, Jewish Music, 189. 60

tradition. Language was particularly important to his argument that Jews could not create

“aesthetically valid works of art”; as noted by Gilman, musical composition was one such example.176 Wagner’s opinion about language is evident when he says “the Jew speaks the language of the nation in whose midst he dwells from generation to generation, he speaks it always as an alien,” and he then continues, “in this Speech, this Art, the Jew can only mimic and mock – not truly make a poem of his words, an artwork of his doings.”177 Surprisingly enough, many Jewish responses actually embraced his language in order to discover or identify Jewish in music. A paradox resulted in which he articulated specific conditions of otherness that Jewish critics then wanted to “redress in order to articulate new conditions of selfness in Jewish music.”178 Some of the tropes shared by both Wagner and Jewish writers regarding Jewish music included: 1) Jewish music is distinctively logogenic, entrapped by language and speech and thus can never be liberated from the Jewish body as pure or absolute music; 2) Jewish music is not created as an act of individual will but rather is reproduced through performance: that is, Jewish musicians were essentially bricoleurs, who assembled performance from bits and pieces, borrowing or stealing when needed; 3) Jewishness in music was rooted in the land of Israel

(Wagner would add that it could thus never lay claim to Western-ness).179

Some of the criticisms at the turn of the twentieth century singled out the likes of Mahler,

Meyerbeer, Halevy, and Mendelssohn, joining anti-Semitic criticism in science, literature and culture at that time. One of those critics was Karl Grunsky in Stuttgart: although his book

176 Gilman, Smart Jews: The Construction of the Image of Jewish Superior Intelligence (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1995), 44. Gilman also notes that Wagner’s view was in-line with the general view of Christian Europe which meant these negative ideas surrounding the Jews were ubiquitous in these areas. 177 Ibid., 44-45. Direct (translated) quote from Wagner’s Judaism in Music (1850) in Gilman. Wagner’s opinion that “our whole European art and civilization, however, have remained to the Jew a foreign tongue; for, just as he has taken no part in the evolution of the one, so has he taken none in that of the other; but at most the homeless person has been a cold, nay more, a hostile onlooker,” also explains further his idea that the Jews could never achieve what a native German could in regards to art, no matter how hard they attempted. 178 Bohlman, Jewish Music, 190. 179 Ibid., 190-1. 61

Musikgeschichte des 19. Jahrhunderts (1902) contained no overt traces of anti-Semitism, it still attempted to marginalize and label Jewish composers as inferior. Mendelssohn and Meyerbeer, for example, are singled out as sons of Jewish bankers and subordinate to other German masters such as Schumann and Wagner.180 Karl Storck in his work Geschichte der Musik from 1904 condemns Meyerbeer and Halevy for pursuing an “internationalist style” with music that lacks sincerity, sounds artificial and contrived (common stereotypical Jewish traits).181 Levi notes that both individuals frequently refer to opinions of past composers such as Wagner, Schumann, etc. in an attempt to conceal any personal racial prejudices.182 As we continue forward in time,

Rudolf Louis in his Die deutsche Musik der Gegenwart (1909) singles out Karl Goldmark and

Arthur Rubinstein as “exponents of Jewish opportunism” with “penchants for ‘Asiatic-Oriental exoticisms’,” and who were essentially foreigners that occupied positions fundamentally at odds with the German spirit.183 As for Mahler, Louis found that his “music epitomised a fundamental incompatibility between Jewish and Western culture, which manifested itself in a stylistic idiom replete with the language and gesticulations of an Eastern Jew” and concluded that he was a dangerous and damaging influence.184

In his book Die Musik seit Richard Wagner (1913), Walter Niemann was not anti-Semitic in the same way as those previously mentioned, but his use of stereotypes still suggested an underlying prejudice. His focus was, surprisingly, on the operas Elektra and Salome of Strauss, which he found characteristic of the Semitic race and where he refers to the Jewish question as a problem in opera, wondering whether Jewish composers of opera should be considered a danger

180 Levi, “Anti-Semitic discourse in German writing on music,” 170. Grunsky’s work was reprinted three times up to 1924 and widely disseminated. 181 Ibid. Here he is referencing typical Wagnerisms. 182 Ibid., 171. 183 Ibid., 172. 184 Ibid. Rudolf was also responsible for the accusation that Mahler’s music “acts Jewish” 62

to the future of the genre.185 These operas were conceived as “Semitic” in part due to descriptions by the Viennese writer, Arthur Schnitzler, of Strauss’s works that deemed “Semitic characteristics” including: “erotic, exuberant sensuality, the unbridled oriental imagination, the taste for extraneous effect.”186 Theodor Adorno also makes a more subtle connection between

Strauss’s nervousness and Freud’s concept of the neurotic along with the modern style of his music.187 In other words his “involvement with ‘modern’ music” as well as the elements of his music described above, that were largely part of the language of stereotypes, contributed to

Strauss being labelled as Jew and certain works designated as Semitic. Niemann believed, “Jews

[were] incapable of assimilating genuine feelings of identity with Germanic popular and traditional idioms or incorporating a truly Germanic nature in their music language.”188 So even a well assimilated Jew such as Mahler was considered incapable of assimilating to an extent in which he was capable of “Germanness” in his music, and still considered a Jew and inferior as a result.

In relation to appearance and movement, K. M. Knittel discusses the images and descriptions of Mahler as an “energetic” and “modern” conductor (as seen in caricatures) which implicitly referred to his Jewishness since references to his nervousness or his gesture/ movement were not neutral charges, but rather part of a complex network of stereotypes which defined the Jew’s body as different and were thus anti-Semitic in tone (See Ex. 2.4.1).189 By the end of the nineteenth century, Jews in general were seen as visibly different and caricatures often emphasized these differences. Jews were associated negatively with modernity, contributing to

185 Ibid., 173-4. ; K.M. Knittel, “‘Ein hypermoderner Dirigent’: Mahler and Anti-Semitism in Fin-de-Siècle Vienna,” 266. Knittel also discusses the fact the Strauss is a case in which a non-Jew was labeled a Jew by certain critics for his involvement in modern music. 186 Knittel, “‘Ein hypermoderner Dirigent,’” 266. See her footnote 41 where she quotes Schnitzler. 187 Ibid. Knittel references Adorno, Theodor W., “Richard Strauss,” trans. Samuel and Shierry Weber, Perspectives of New Music 4 (1965):14-32, and (1966), 113-29, esp. 114-15. 188 Walter Niemann, Die Musik seit Richard Wagner (Berlin: Schuster und Loeffler, 1913), 89-90. 189 Knittel, “‘Ein hypermoderner Dirigent,’” 258. 63

their overall marginalization at that time. Max Brod for example, in his book Jewish Folk

Melodies (1916-7), established the conditions for Jewishness in Mahler’s music and by extension

Modern Jewish music. He and others claimed that Mahler’s music had specifically Jewish gestures (from growing up in Moravia, a Jewish soundscape), which manifested themselves in musical materials and concluded that as a victim of Anti-Semitism, his marginality as a Jew had exposed him to cultural contexts distinguished as “jarring juxtapositions and pieces that failed to cohere as wholes” (musical works). Moreover he employed “the musical language of bricolage, somehow characteristic of Jewish preference for hybridity over unity.”190

Ex. 2.4.1 Drawings satirizing Mahler’s as director of the Vienna State Opera, 1897-1907. By Hans Schliessman (1852-1920) from March 1901.

190Bohlman , Jewish Music, 183. 64

These are just a few examples of the language used and the perceptions of Jewishness and music by the end of the nineteenth century. Considering these perceptions it is not hard to understand the aspirations for assimilation and the attempts made by composers of Jewish origins to compose in the accepted aesthetic vein. The unfortunate futility of these attempts is obvious in cases such as Mahler or other more prominent composers of the time. The question is whether those lesser known composers, such as Brüll or Jadassohn, who may have had less exposure in comparison to Mahler, were finding the same result in regards to reception, acceptance and success.

In conclusion, Jewish music can be seen as a multivalent concept that escapes any clear definition because it is immediately complicated by those trying to define it and their motivations, the functionality of the music, and the variety of characteristics that it shares with other musics. As one can see there are many differences in background, styles and genres that fall under the umbrella of “Jewish music.” More importantly, anti-Semitism is not necessarily directly related to this music but rather intrinsic to the surrounding social environment and thus influenced reactions to the music through, in many cases, more of a focus on the composers’ origins rather than the actual musical content. Now we must turn to the composers of this study and compare their biographical and compositional details to those outlined above in order to properly situate them in their respective cultural scenes and shed more light on their experience as Jewish composers during this segment of history.

Chapter Three: Ignaz Brüll

Ignaz Brüll

The first Jewish composer used as a case study is Ignaz Brüll (1846-1907), who was a contemporary of both Johannes Brahms (1837-1897) and Gustav Mahler (1860-1911). Brüll was born into a Jewish family and his father was a successful Jewish merchant in Prostějov in

Moravia. Prossnitz, as it was typically called by Germans, was according to Idelssohn a “center for Jewish singers and song” during the eighteenth century; it "served as the cradle for a considerable number of Jewish musicians.”1 Moravia in general produced a number of important contributors to the prominent Jewish intellectual life in Vienna, to where many of them eventually immigrated.2 Prossnitz was also a place where previous generations of the Brüll family successfully established themselves within the middle class because of a prosperous business that Brüll, as the oldest, was expected to inherit.3 The fact that the Brüll family was well assimilated is made clear in the limited sources on Brüll; however, whether he or his family had officially converted to Catholicism for example, as part of the assimilation process, remains unclear. The fact that he was born into a successful, assimilated, middle class, Jewish family, and grew up in such an environment certainly contributed to shaping his later position in society.

When Brüll was four years old, his family moved to Vienna because of new economic opportunities, and his childhood included a prominent musical component.4 His parents were

1 A.Z. Idelssohn, Jewish Music in its Historical Development (New York: Tudor Pub.Co., 1994), 208. 2 Ibid.; Werner, A Voice Still Heard: The Sacred Songs of the Ashkenazic, 184. The contributors cited are: Gustav Mahler, Sigmund Freud, Stefan Zweig, Hermann Broch, Adolf Jellinek, Moritz Steinschneicher, Nehemya Bruell, and David Kaufman. The small manufacturing city of Prostějov (called Prossnitz by the Germans) lies in southern Moravia. 3 Hartmut, Wecker, Der Epigone, Ignaz Brüll: Ein Judischer Komponist Im Wiener Brahms-Kreis (Pfaffenweiler, Germany: Centaurus-Verlagsgesellschaft, 1991),155-56. 4 Peter Clive, Brahms and His World: A Biographical Dictionary (Oxford: Scarecrow Press, 2006), 72. 66

both competent amateur musicians and his sister was a contralto.5 He studied at the Conservatory in Vienna, piano with Julius Epstein (1832-1926), a notable Jewish Viennese pianist and teacher, and composition with Felix Otto Dessoff (1835-92) a German conductor and composer originally from Leipzig. Anton Rubinstein is said to have predicted a great musical future for Brüll already at the young age of fourteen.6 He was active and recognized in two domains: performance (as a pianist), and composition of instrumental music and opera.

As a performer, he lived up to Rubinstein’s expectation and developed into an exceptional pianist with excellent technique. As a result, he acquired an international reputation as a foremost interpreter of Schumann, Beethoven and Brahms.7 He was particularly popular in

London where he toured extensively. His skills were acknowledged in the Musical World in

1878 for example, which commented on his “high reputation in his own country, as an operatic composer […] [His] playing is above all remarkable for energy and spirit; but in addition to this he has a style of his own that cannot fail to make him understood. He possesses great mechanical power, great fluency, and in the softer passages a delicate tone and an elastic touch.”8 The review also showed recognition of his abilities when commenting on his choice to play Beethoven’s

Sonata in C minor, Op. 111, and the Appassionata Sonata, which for them “reveal[ed] the fact that as he is an expert performer, [and] he is a musician whose preference is for what is intrinsically good.”9 The reviews from Vienna are scarce in regards to his piano performances.

5 Hermine Schwarz, Ignaz Brüll und sein Freundeskreis (Vienna: Rikola Verlag, 1922), 15. She discusses the musical surroundings Brüll experienced in their home from a young age, which included musical evenings organized by his mother that commonly featured Beethoven and Mozart on the program, and which influenced his musical development. 6 Ibid. 7 Ibid. His international popularity resulted in numerous successful tours through England and the rest of Europe. 8 “Popular Concerts” in Musical World 56/7 (Feb.16 1878): 117. No author given. A concert at St. James Hall, date unknown, but likely the previous Monday Popular Concert since that was the title of review. Also featured at this concert were Schubert’s Quartett in Bb, Verdi’s Quartett in E minor, and Mozart’s Divertimento in F Major, among others. 9 Ibid. 67

However, one review in the Musical World from 1874, commenting on a performance of his at the Theatre an der Wien, remarked that his performance was “noteworthy” and that he in particular made a “most favorable impression in all.”10 Not only was he a skilled pianist, but he was also a prolific composer beginning from the age of 13 when he wrote several operas,11 sonatas, piano concertos, a variety of chamber music, ballet music, and lieder (See Appendix I for a complete list of Brüll’s works).

One example of his early compositional works is the Piano Concerto No. 1 in F major,

Op. 10 (1860), composed when he was just fifteen years old. He dedicated himself to this piece for the next few decades, playing it himself in 1869 at a Philharmonic Concert in Vienna, as well as in Berlin in 1871, and Liverpool, Manchester and London in 1881. It was even making the rounds in America and was made popular there by Richard Hoffman in the 1880s as well.12

Harmut Wecker describes the first movement as “typical of Brüll’s way of dealing with the form of the principal sonata movement.”13 The piece is rather remarkable considering his young age and features a semi-heroic style evident in the rhythmic opening theme in mm.1-10 (See Ex.

3.1.1) which dominates the movement throughout. Beethoven’s heroic style was a clear influence on this early work. For example, the opening material is very reminiscent, rhythmically (3/4, short-long durations) and melodically speaking (same step-wise motion), of the beginning of the second theme from Beethoven’s Egmont Overture, Op. 84, which is

10 “Vienna” in Musical World 52/1 (Mar.14 1874):168. No author given. Featured on the program that evening was Brüll’s Piano Concerto No. 2, Brahms’ Variation on a Theme by Haydn, Schubert’s Wanderer, Rubinstein’s Es blinkt der Thau among others. 11 Brüll’s other operas include; Der Landfriede Op.30, Bianca, Konigin Mariette Op.40, Schach dem König Op. 70, Gringoire Op. 66, Königen Mariette Op.40, Der Husar Op.79, Das steinerne Herz Op.55, Der Herr der Berg, Die Bettler von Samarkand, and Gloria. 12Wecker, Hartmut, “Ignaz Brüll,” in accompanying booklet, Piano Concerto No. 1, Op.10, Piano Concerto No.2, Op.24, Andante and Allegro, Op.88, performed by BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra, Martin Brabbins conductor, Martin Roscoe piano (London: Hyperion Record Ltd., 1998), 5. The Liner notes are written by Dr. Hartmut Wecker and translated by Robert Flower. Wecker wrote his PhD dissertation on Brüll in 1991 as referenced above. 13 Ibid. 68

reflected in the strings and clarinet at mm. 82-85 (See Ex.3.1.2). Shifting between F major and D minor, Brüll’s dominating first theme is more rhythmic in character than melodic, whereas the transition has two episodes whose thematic quality becomes more significant as the movement progresses. Ex.3.1.3 shows an example of these transitions which return throughout the movement with some modifications.

Ex. 3.1.1 Brüll’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in F Major, Movement I, Opening Theme (mm. 1-6)

Ex. 3.1.2 Beethoven, Egmont Overture Op.84, Piano Reduction (mm. 74-94)

Ex. 3.1.3 Brüll’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in F Major, Movement I, Thematic-like transitional passages (mm. 77-80)

Formally, the movement contains a double exposition, similar to Beethoven’s earlier concertos (e.g. the Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor, Op. 37), in which an orchestral exposition begins the movement and stays within the tonic key. This is followed by the solo exposition (m.

37) where more material is introduced, in this case the second theme (m. 120), and where the movement begins its transition to the dominant key. The second theme is introduced by the piano and is also taken up by the flute and the oboe and though the first theme is more predominant throughout, the second theme provides a natural charming contrast (See Ex. 3.1.4).

Ex. 3.1.4 Piano Concerto No. 1 in F Major, Second Theme (m. 120)

The development (m. 184) begins in the dominant key and modulates through a variety of keys including A major, for example, where Th. 2 is presented again on the solo piano (m.

236) before moving back to the tonic key. The recapitulation is fairly “orthodox” in manner, preceded by a dominant pedal (mm. 292-3) which resolves to the tonic key (FM). The movement is finished off with a virtuosic cadenza (See Ex. 3.1.5) and a presto stretta. The overall tonal plan stays true to other typical classical sonata forms, moving from tonic (F major) to the dominant (C Major) in the exposition followed by a number of modulations through the development section leading back to the tonic key in the recapitulation. The interactions between the orchestra and the solo piano are prototypical with a conversational feel, or back and forth dialogue, which continues even more intensely in the recapitulation (See Ex.3.1.6 for

Formal Diagram).

Ex. 3.1.5 Piano Concerto No. 1 in F Major, Movement 1, Cadenza, (m.441)

Ex. 3.1.6 Piano Concerto No. 1 in F Major, Movement I, Double Exposition, Sonata Form Exposition Development Recapitulation Cadenza - Coda Orchestral Solo Th.1 trans Th.1 tr. Th.2 tr. Th.1 tr. Th.2 tr. mm.1-36 37-183 184-294 294-440 441-575 FM FM CM GM CM  CM FM FM

The second movement, the Andante, is described by Wecker as “the heart of the concerto” and contains a cantabile melody that has a slight “oriental colouring.”14 What he might be referring to is the melismatic aspect of the theme manifested particularly through the division of the second beat of the opening measures into an unusual rhythmic formula of two sixteenth notes plus a sixteenth-note triplet, the use of the tritone (Bb-E, m.2), and the predominance of minor seconds apparent within the theme (eg. Bb-C-Bb motion in m.1 or A-Bb-A in m.7) as well. Whether “oriental” (a rather loaded term) or not, the theme definitely has a rhapsodic character (See Ex. 3.1.7). It is a short movement, just 84 measures long, with an ABA’ form, and begins with the piano solo in what appears to be d minor, but starting on the dominant chord, and eventually (A mm.1-32) cadences in d minor with a fermata. Through the B section the horns and lower strings enter as accompaniment to the new material presented by the piano, eventually modulating to V and back to I for the A’ section which repeats the solo piano material from the

14 Ibid. 72

opening section slightly modified, now in the piano bass line. The movement ends with arpeggiated sixteenths and leads directly (with a slight pause) into the Finale movement.

Ex.3.1.7 Piano Concerto No.1 in F Major, Movement II, Andante Theme (mm. 1-9)

The finale movement is in typical rondo form (A-B-A’-C-A’-B-Coda) and includes an extended coda section (mm. 262-379) which reuses material from the preceding sections. The A section always returns in the Tonic key (F Major) and with a dance-like subject in 6/8; whereas the contrasting B and C sections are more lyrical, in 2/4, and explore other keys, such as E major,

G major and even Ab major in the Coda section, however, always modulating back to the Tonic key for the return of the A section (See Ex. 3.1.8). The decreasing interest in the use of a typical classical form is apparent in the reviews surrounding this work which, though generally positive, included the comment that “the piece is not remarkable for originality, and Herr Brüll’s playing though sound, is in no way striking; consequently neither the pianist nor the composition created a deep impression.”15 Considering that this particular review was written in the 1880s, it is relevant in that it reflects the changing musical tastes of the critics as well as the audience in the

15 “Crystal Palace,” in Musical Times 22/457 (Mar. 1 1881): 126-7. This review was commenting on a concert held on January 12th 1881, at the Crystal Palace in London. There was no author given. 73

last decades of the nineteenth century, which were moving away from the classical ideals seen in this early piano concerto.

Ex. 3.1.8 Piano Concerto No. 1 in F Major, Movement III, Rondo Form A B A’ C A’’ B Coda mm.1-45 46-87 88-122 123-193 194-228 229-261 262-379 6/8 2/4 6/8 2/4 6/8 2/4 6/8 2/4 6/8 FM EM V/FM FMV/GM GM V/FM FM AM AbM  FM

Brüll in Leipzig

Part of Brüll’s journey to find artistic recognition included a journey to Leipzig with the intention to introduce himself there as a performer and composer. It was his goal to establish himself in this German music metropolis at the esteemed Gewandhaus, where he hoped he would increase his artistic market value.16 Considering the prominent musical traditions in Leipzig discussed earlier, this was a reasonable and understandable goal. As mentioned previously, Brüll was actively pursuing a career as a pianist and had started touring in Stuttgart with his own compositions. He travelled to Leipzig in August 1867 to make the necessary connections, and

Wecker explains that Brüll’s artistic hopes rested on the success of pieces which were recently presented at a concert in Stuttgart. These included a Serenade and Sonata quasi Fantasia, and along with those he brought with him to Leipzig a novelty piece, Three Pieces for Orchestra.17

During his time in Leipzig he tried to connect with prominent figures from the musical scene including Carl Reinecke (1824-1910), who as mentioned earlier, was the musical director of

Gewandhaus Orchestra during that time, as well as Ferdinand David (1810-73), the Concert

16 Wecker, Der Epigone, 175-76. Wecker’s exact quote: “Brülls vornehmliches Ziel war allerdings weiterhin Leipzig, die deutsche Musikmetropole schlechthin. Von einem Erfolg dort, insbesondere im Gewandhaus, versprach er sich Popularität und Steigerung seines künstlerischen Marktwertes. Ende August reiste er dorthin, um die notwendigen Verbindungen zu knüpfen. Seine künstlerischen Hoffnungen ruhten weiterhin auf den Stuttgarter Erfolgsstücken, Serenade und Sonata quasi fantasia; aber er brachte ein Novität mit: drei Stücke für Orchester.” All translations from German are mine, unless otherwise indicated. 17 Ibid.,176. Wecker does not give these musical works specific details such as opus numbers or keys. 74

Master of the Gewandhaus and the organizer of the popular Kammermusikabenden (Chamber

Music Evenings).18 Wecker suggests that, while in Leipzig, Brüll was hoping to find directions regarding opportunities to have his own work added to the Gewandhaus programs, as well as contacts to the Euterpe, the second largest musical society at the time (and which, coincidentally, included Salomon Jadassohn as a member; see below).19 The result of this initial visit was mild in success, as Brüll only received a vague promise from Reinecke for an appearance as a pianist at the Gewandhaus and a performance of his own composition was still not assured.20

Brüll’s second attempt to find success in Leipzig came in July 1868 when he travelled back to this city.21 When he arrived, however, most of those from the musical world in Leipzig were in Altenburg attending the Tonkünstler Festival, hosted by that prestigious German Music

Society.22 Brüll decided to travel to the festival and had good luck once he arrived. Two of his colleagues were unable to perform and as a result Brüll was asked to fill in for two different concerts where he played Symphonic Etudes by Schumann, and the piano part for Carl

Goldmark’s Violin Suite.23 Wecker notes the unanimous praise for his performance by those musicians that were present and this gave renewed hope of an opportunity to play at the

Gewandhaus.24

18 Ibid. Ferdinand David was raised Jewish but converted to Christianity later in life. He was however the concert master at the Gewandhaus and later a violin instructor at the Leipzig Conservatory, an interesting achievement in the same city as Salomon Jadassohn and no doubt one of his competitors as well as Brüll’s. Wecker’s exact quote” Als erstes suchte er Carl Reinecke auf, den musikalischen Leiter des Gewandhausorchester sowie dessen Konzertmeister Ferdinand David, der auch Veranstalter von Kammermusikabenden war.” 19 Ibid. Wecker’s exact quote: “Um nicht nur auf diese eine Institution angewiesen zu sein, bemühte er sich auch um Kontakte zur >>Euterpe<<, dem zweiten großen Musikverein, der vornehmlich der neudeutschen Richtung anhing.” 20 Ibid. Wecker’s exact quote: “Das einzige Ergebnis dieser Besuche war, daß er von Reinecke die vage Zusage erhielt, als Pianist im Gewandhaus auftreten zu können; an eine Aufführung seiner eigenen Kompositionen war jedoch nicht zu denken.” 21 Ibid. A debut at the Gewandhaus was no longer possible in the season that was currently running, so Brüll returned to Vienna but made the firm decision to appear in Leipzig in the subsequent year. 22 Ibid. 23 Ibid. 24 Ibid. 75

He returned again to Leipzig in September of the same year with three goals in mind: to receive a definite promise for a concert at the Gewandhaus, a performance which would also include his own composition, and to get contacts with publishing houses there as well.25 This time Reinecke appears to have been a helpful partner, offering him the chance to perform there, with one caveat though: he had to audition in the presence of Ignaz Moscheles who, as mentioned previously, was a renowned pianist and professor at the Leipzig Conservatory.26 He went ahead with the audition and soon received official communication that he would appear at the Gewandhaus on January 7th 1869.27 There he presented his Piano Concerto No. 2, Op. 24

(1868) alongside Mendelssohn’s Scherzo a Capriccio and Schubert’s Moment Musical.28

The first movement of the second concerto is similar to the first concerto in that it opens with a rhythmic first theme in the tonic (C major), and is followed by thematic-like sections of transitional material which eventually lead to a contrasting lyrical theme in the dominant key (G major). There are a few differences however, which suggest a slight evolution similar to

Beethoven’s later concertos. For example, the opening material is presented by the solo piano (in

12/8) rather than the orchestra as seen in the opening of the first concerto and resembles

Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 4, which starts the same way (and against tradition) with a solo statement of the opening subject where the orchestra would normally begin. However, after the eight measure solo presentation of the first theme, Brüll employs a typical orchestral exposition which restates the opening thematic material in m. 9 (while the piano rests) in the tonic key and continues through transitional material eventually introducing the sixteen measure lyrical second

25 Ibid. 26 See fn. 135 in Ch. 2. 27 Ibid. Brüll was excited by this opportunity for success and decided to organize a concert in Vienna, a plan which would fail unfortunately. He was invited to perform at the Abonnementkonzerts in Altenburg where, on Oct.20, he played his just completed Piano Concerto No.2, a premiere which was a sample of what he hoped to introduce in Leipzig. 28 H. K., “Leipzig” in Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung 4/2 (Jan. 13 1869): 14. Concert at the Gewandhaus in Leipzig on January 7th 1869. H. K are the author’s initials, no full name is given. 76

theme (m.48) in the subdominant key (F major). The piano returns in m. 90 and eventually restates the first and second themes as a solo. The exposition ends with a dominant pedal

(mm.163-67) and the development switches from 12/8 to C time and modulates through various keys (AM, EM, BbM, G#M,C#M,GM) eventually prolonging V7 which resolves back to I in the recapitulation (m.225). The recapitulation restates the first theme in the orchestra only with some light piano accompaniment. There is no solo cadenza present other than a brief chromatic descent that leads to the Coda in m. 313, which begins in Ab Major, presents the same material

(now in Ab) as the beginning of the development section, and eventually modulates back to the tonic. So though he appears to be taking some liberties in comparison to the first concerto, all in all he still adheres to the classical models used by Mozart and Beethoven, and certainly takes less risk harmonically speaking in comparison to Beethoven (See Ex. 3.2.1).

Ex. 3.2.1 Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Major, Movement I – Sonata Form Exposition Orchestral Solo (mix with Orch.) Development Recapitulation Coda SoloTh.1 Th.1 tr. Th.2 tr. Th.1 tr. Th.2 tr. Th.1 tr. Th.2 mm.1-8 mm.9-90 90-174 175-224 225-312 313-65 CM CM FM CM GM CM GM GM  GM CM AbM CM

Following the concert, the critics’ reaction was predominantly benevolent and he was complimented by several musicians including Moscheles and Reinecke. 29 As we have seen, he had also auditioned for them beforehand and it seems that they continued their support. Brüll’s expectations were, however, only partially fulfilled despite the positive reception. As Wecker notes, “to the composer’s disappointment the main movement aroused little enthusiasm. The conductor Carl Reinecke attributed this to its being four bars too short so that the sudden ending took the public by surprise.”30 So though he had hoped this instance would open doors for more opportunities with other German orchestras, this did not happen right away and unfortunately the

29Hartmut, Wecker, Der Epigone, 176. 30 Wecker, Hyperion C.D. accompanying booklet, 6. 77

publishing contacts he had acquired only produced mild results and generally little monetary gain.31 After nearly sixteen months of exertion, as Wecker explains, Brüll’s situation had not really changed and further years of struggle lay ahead before he would achieve artistic acceptance.32

Brüll continued to present the second concerto despite the subdued reaction of the audience in earlier performances. The review in the Musical Times from 1878, commenting on a

London performance at the Crystal Palace, describes quite succinctly the overall impression given of this work, which also reflects the style in which Brüll was composing. In regard to this particular evening the review notes his dual role of composer and pianist and then describes the concerto as such: “His concerto […] is a work which bears testimony not only to great natural ability, but to the thoroughness of his studies. It is written strictly in the classical forms of

Mozart and Beethoven […] In its subjects the Concerto is pleasing without being strikingly original […] The Allegro is the least interesting, the Andante and Finale are charming.”33 Also featured on the program that evening was Wagner’s Faust Overture, Mozart’s Symphony in Eb,

Bennett’s May Queen Overture, Carissimi’s Air, and Schumann’s Two Grenadiers, reflecting the calibre of composers and pieces beside which Brüll’s works were presented.

The next step in Brüll’s journey to artistic recognition is related to his friendship with

Brahms and his close association with Brahms’ popular Viennese circle, which we must examine in order to situate him in the Viennese cultural scene and to gain understanding of his involvement and contribution to that scene.

31 Wecker, Der Epigone, 175. Before the concert he had sold his Phantasiestücke for Klavier to the Kistner Publishing House, who published it with the designation of Opus 8. 32 Ibid., 178. 33 “Monday Popular Concerts,” in Musical Times 19/421 (Mar. 1 1878): 146. No author given. A “Monday Popular Concert” held on Feb. 23 1878. The review further states “As a player […] refined and artistic […] he does not astound by a display of musical fireworks […] He was well received.” 78

Brahms’ Circle

Brüll did belong to the Viennese Brahms circle and his membership can be confirmed in various sources, including biographies, correspondences and articles related to Brüll, Brahms, and other members of this circle. The main members of this particular Viennese circle mentioned here are referenced frequently in the sources related to Brüll. He maintained close friendships with them as a result of the lengthy amount of time he spent Brahms and this circle. These members include Theodore Billroth (1829-1894), a surgeon, accomplished pianist and part of the liberal elite; Eduard Hanslick (1825-1921), a music critic with conservative views (against the

Wagner school), Jewish, and who also wrote for the liberal papers in Vienna; Karl Goldmark

(1830-1915), a Jewish composer; Max Kalbeck (1850-1921), also a music critic and Brahms’ future biographer; Julius Epstein (1832-1926), a pianist and Brüll’s instructor, who was also

Jewish; George Herschel (1854-1934), a singer, conductor and composer; Alfred Grünfeld

(1852-1924), a Jewish pianist and composer; Eusebius Mandyczewski (1857-1929), also a music critic; Richard Heuberger (1850-1914), a composer, music critic, teacher and writer for the liberal papers in Vienna; Ludwig Rottenberg (1863-1932), a conductor and composer; Daniel

Spitzer (1835-1893), a Jewish writer and journalist (Viennese Jewish satirist), and lawyer; and

Joseph Joachim (1830-1907), violinist and close friend of Brahms despite his absence from

Vienna.34 Most of the members of this circle were well established in their respective fields.

Goldmark, for example, achieved considerable fame in Vienna and Budapest during his lifetime from his first opera, Die Königin von Saba (1875), a work which could be considered progressive with regard to its subject matter and its use of chromatic harmony and “continuous

34 Wecker, Der Epigone, 197. Other sources include: Hermine Schwarz, Ignaz Brüll und sein Freundeskreis (Vienna: Rikola Verlag, 1922); George Bozarth, ed., Johannes Brahms & George Henschel: An Enduring Friendship (Sterling Heights, Michigan: Harmonie Press, 2008); Hans Barkan, ed. Johannes Brahms and Theodor Billroth: Letters From a Musical Friendship (Norman, Oklahoma: University of Oklahoma Press, 1957). 79

declamatory melodic style” reminiscent of the Wagnerian school. 35 The fact that so many of these men were Jewish is intriguing and should be kept in mind at least in relation to their acceptance into the society and the perceptions of this close knit group aligned with Brahms, who was not Jewish.

Brahms and Brüll

One fact that continues to resurface out of the correspondence between Brahms and

Billroth, Henschel, and Mandyczewski is Brahms’ admiration for Brüll’s skills as a pianist. For that reason he and Brahms frequently performed for a select group of friends which included those listed above, who commonly heard piano versions for two sets of hands, many of which were Brahms orchestral works before their actual premieres.36 Brahms and Brüll are also noted as spending a lot of time together in the summer resort of Ischl; many others from their Viennese circle frequently joined them there.37 Geiringer points out the fact the Ischl was a place where the

35 Wilhelm Pfannkuch and Gerhard J. Winkler, "Goldmark, Karl," Grove Music Online, Oxford Music Online, Oxford University Press, accessed November 13, 2012, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/11384. “He never belonged to a stylistic school, and in spite of his favour for Wagner he did not take part in the controversy between the ‘progressive’ and ‘conservative’ musical parties. His musical language is determined by a multiplicity of influences from Mendelssohn to Impressionism, incorporating Hungarian folk culture and his childhood memories of the synagogue The subject matter of Die Königin von Saba is similar to Bizet’s Djamileh, Delibes’ Lakmé, Saint-Saëns’s Samson et Dalila and other works of oriental colour. Stylistically the opera shows an impressive mixture: the representative scope of musical and scenic luxury is indebted to Meyerbeerian grand opera, whereas the strongly chromatic harmony and the continuous declamatory melodic style, which is only temporarily interrupted by closed forms, point to Wagner. With its opulent and exotic sonority Die Königin von Saba seems to have hit the nerve of its time. It was taken as the musical counterpoint to the orientalistic paintings of Hans Makart and the monumental Viennese fin-de-siècle buildings in the Ringstrasse. In this way Goldmark ranks as the true musical representative of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy in the last third of the 19th century.” 36 Wecker, Der Epigone, 197. Wecker discusses Brahms’ habit of performing his larger compositions before his selected circle of friends and critics before unveiling them to the public. Four-handed piano arrangements were commonly put together for his orchestral works and Brüll was always consulted as a partner and player because of Brahms’ admiration for his interpretation skills. Thus four symphonies (1876, 1877,1883,1885), as well as the B Major piano concerto (1881) were introduced in this manner to this small selected audience. 37Clive, Brahms and His World, 73. Clive notes an evening at the Brüll family home, with Brahms in attendance, where Brüll performed Handel Variations which so moved Brahms he went over to Brüll’s mother, kissed her hand and thanked her for her son.; Karl Geiringer, Brahms His Life and Works (New York: Da Capo Press, 1982), 157. Geiringer also notes the family’s summer home at Ischl and frequent visits from Brahms. 80

“best” of society used to meet and this is significant in defining Brüll’s place in society, which would appear to have been well to do, considering his acquisition of a summer home there and the guests which frequented that home.38 Many have noted Brahms feeling most at home with the Brüll family, which included both his parents as well as his wife and children, and it seems likely that because of the immense amount of time they spent together, Brahms had a certain amount of influence on Brüll’s compositions and vice versa. For example, in a letter to Billroth from Brahms, dated Ischl June 30, 1882, he describes a “spring product of Brüll or myself – we work together and can sometimes be mistaken for each other.”39 Here Brahms was apparently referring to his own First String Quintet in F Major, Op. 88. According to Hans Barkan in his editorial comments on that letter, Kalbeck may have been there for the rehearsal of this work and had suggested that the main theme somewhat resembled one of the “pleasant melodies of

Brüll.”40 Because of this resemblance, Barkan believes this is why Brahms mentioned the fact that they were working closely together. Brahms was also a big supporter of Brüll’s work and recommended his work whenever possible. For example, in another letter to Billroth, dated

November 3rd, 1883, Brahms recommends a violin sonata of Brüll’s for one of their many musical evenings, stating that the violinist Jakob Grün, also Jewish, would be willing to play it.41

Countless other letters mention Brüll’s involvement in Brahms’ everyday life, dinners, walks, rehearsals, and various types of other musical evenings which many of those listed above would either host or attend.42

38 Karl Geiringer, On Brahms and His Circle: Essays and Documentation Studies, revis. George Bozarth (Michigan: Harmonie Press, 2006), 157. 39 Barkan, Johannes Brahms and Theodor Billroth, 116-117. 40 Ibid. Quote belongs to Kalbeck. No specific examples of similar melodies were given. 41 Ibid., 138. 42 Barkan, Johannes Brahms and Theodor Billroth, 56, 92, 96, 108, 116-7, 125-6, 127, 138, 139, 160, 161, 182, 191, 208. See Letters 67, 117, 121, 141, 152, 161-63, 180, 181, 182 for various references to Brüll; Bozarth, Johannes Brahms & George Henschel, 141 and 280. Bozarth notes a letter from Brahms to Henschel referencing congratulations to him and Brüll. Based on these correspondences it is easy assume that Brahms and Brüll, along 81

Mahler, Brüll, and Opera

There is some speculation that Gustav Mahler and Brüll were mutual friends. This can be confirmed by a letter from Mahler to Karl Goldmark in 1903, in which Mahler mentions that he was not able to join them at the summer home where Mahler’s friends Brüll and Richard Specht were staying.43 In the post script of the letter Mahler requests “please remember me to all at the

Berghof!”44 As Knud Martner explains in his footnote for this letter, the Berghof refers to “a country house near Unterach am Attersee, and where mutual friends of Mahler’s (Richard

Specht) were spending the summer,” and this was the home (previously mentioned) that Brüll had built there.45 Wecker also discusses the Berghof’s reputation as a meeting place for musicians, journalists, and writers who spent their summers there.46 There may have been some tension, however, between Mahler and Brüll if we consider the comment of the music critic

Chevalley on Mahler and Pollini. Chevalley specifically mentions a “highly padded opera entitled Gloria by Ignaz Brüll, the amiable composer of Das Goldene Kreuz,” a work which apparently Mahler was “forced to rehearse and conduct” in Hamburg, but which he had never accepted nor recommended to be performed.47 The inclusion of these anecdotes is not to emphasize the relationship between Mahler and Brüll and but more regarding his position among other well established composers in the cultural scene at the time and the perspective of those composers regarding his works.

with others from the circle, spent a significant amount of time together discussing or rehearsing music. Common meeting places for these members besides Ischl include the following examples: the Salon at Friedrich Konrad Ehrbar’s place (a piano manufacturer), Café Ronacher on the Schottenring, Laszlo Wagner de Zolyom’s villa at Alt- Aussee, and Billroth’s home. 43Knud Martner, trans., Selected Letters of Gustav Mahler (London: Faber and Faber, 1979), 271. 44 Ibid., 271. 45 Ibid., fn. 3 on page 271. 46 Wecker, Der Epigone, 197. 47 Kurt and Herta Blaukopf, eds., Mahler His Life, Work, and World (London: Thames and Hudson, 1991), 118. 82

Though Gloria received less than desirable reception, the opera Das Goldene Kreuz, on the other hand, was Brüll’s best known work and one for which he received a great amount of praise. The opera premiered in Berlin on December 22nd, 1875 and according to Wecker it was a

“sensational success” that “propelled [him] from nowhere into the foremost ranks of contemporary composers. It also boosted his career as a pianist."48 The reviews were for the most part quite positive and included statements such as: “At last I have to chronicle a real success,”

Brüll has “found himself famous at least among the musical circles of this capital,” and the

“music is unconstrained, melodious, and flowing; it captivates both critics and general public,”49 and he is one of the “most promising operatic composers of the day.”50 Not all the reviews were positive, however:

Brüll’s work did not prove a success with the public, although connoisseurs were quick to recognize the grace and charm of a good deal of the music and the admirable manner in which the orchestra is treated throughout. Its comparative failure, however, need not have surprised or puzzled anybody […] [It] missed public approval […] [because it was] domestic drama illustrating the fortunes of humble every-day folk and for such, unless wedded to specially beautiful music, or interpreted by exceptional ability, the public do not care […] A simple story like that which Mosenthal tells in the Golden Cross, though it be pure and touching, is voted “stale, flat, and unprofitable.” […] Its most serious drawback is the monotony of character […] Even in a two-act work there should be – moments of exaltation and depression, of storm and calm, of strain and relaxation. Herr Brüll neglects this rule too much. We long for eminence even if beyond lies a valley.51

48 Wecker, Hyperion C.D. accompanying booklet, 2. 49 “Music in Berlin,” in Musical World 54/3 (Jan.15 1876): 52. No author given. The opera was performed in Berlin at the Royal Opera and the review stated, “So decided is the success achieved by Das Goldene Kreuz, that is already accepted at the Theatre Royal, Dresden, and the example set by the Saxon capital will no doubt be followed by all the principal theatres of Fatherland.” 50 “Carl Rosa Opera Company,” in Musical World 56/10 (Mar. 9 1878): 167 and176. No author given; Berlin Echo, Oct.12 1878 –This paper hailed it a “novelty” and stated that “Both text and music are distinguished by pretentiousness, which, in the latter scenes rises to graceful hilarity.” (Referenced in this issue of Musical World, “Scraps About Das Goldene Kreuz,” 176). 51“Carl Rosa Opera Company,” in Musical World 57/12 (Mar. 22 1879): 186-7. No Author given. This concert was at Her Majesty’s Theatre in London, exact date not listed. The review also stated, “The Golden Cross, however, should not be set aside. Its influence is all in the direction of good, and we do not envy the man who, while rightly demanding greater strength, sneers at the character of the opera.” 83

Especially in the post-Wagner nineteenth century, this critic may have considered this opera rather anachronistic in its overall style and form. When quoted as “a return to the good old school” after an English version performance in London in 1878, the reason can be seen rather immediately.52 Essentially, this opera is a Singspiel, which is evident in its overall layout that contains several sections of spoken dialogue interspersed between a variety of musical numbers that include ensembles, duets, ballads, and strophic arias. The plot is based on a domestic drama in a French village around 1812, towards the end of Napoleon’s reign. Christine’s loyalty to her brother Colas is emphasized and tested, resulting in the promise of marriage and a token of her celibacy (a Golden Cross) to an unknown soldier (Gontran) who offers to take her brother’s spot in the next string of soldiers heading off to war with their Sergeant, Bombardon. Gontran returns injured from the War but without the Golden cross, as he passed it to Bombardon when he was wounded and expecting to die. Christine is forced to take care of him not realizing who he is and falls in love with him. She is however, staying true to her vow and the unknown soldier she still believes is at war. In the end his identity is eventually revealed and they can finally be together.

The aria (though titled “Lied” in the score), Wie anders war, sung by the character Bombardon, clearly reflects this strophic form. For example, the instrumental introductory material in mm.1-6 as well as the opening thematic material that follows it (in measure 6), both return again in mm.

36, and 66, almost exactly as the first presentation (See Ex.3.3.1).53 Many of these musical numbers reflect a preference for dotted rhythms, traditional keys, and simple melody lines.

52 “Carl Rosa Opera Company,” in Musical World 56/10 (Mar. 9 1878): 167. This concert was at the Adelphi Theatre in London and was put on by the Carl Rosa Company in English. The full quote, “We hail in it a return to the good old school, in which horrors are not essential to the story, nor mysteries often unfathomable, to the music.” 53 This aria happens to be the only number from the opera ever recorded and is featured on the LP by Emanuel List. See, Emanuel List, Wolfgang A. Mozart, Wolfgang A. Mozart, Carl M. Weber, Albert Lortzing, Otto Nicolai, Ignaz Brüll, Richard Wagner, Richard Wagner, Richard Wagner, Richard Wagner, Richard Wagner, Charles Gounod, and Charles Gounod, Emanuel List, 1960, Sound recording. I have also consulted the score and the English translated libretto. See, Ignaz Brüll and S.H. Mosenthal, Das Goldene Kreuz: Oper in 2 Acten (Berlin: Ed. Bote G. Bock, 189?); Ignaz Brüll, S. H. Mosenthal, The Golden Cross An Opera in Two Acts, trans. John P. Jackson (New York: Metropolitan Opera House, 1887). This is a English translation of the libretto. 84

Though this work “kept his name alive for the following decades” it eventually disappeared completely from the stage after the Nazi’s ban on all works by Jewish composers.54

Ex. 3.3.1 Das Goldene Kreuz, No.13 Lied (Wie anders war)

The last decade of the nineteenth century witnessed the emergence of some of the most influential Jewish composers in history, and Brüll was well aware of their unique compositional styles. Yet, it would appear that he was settled in a determinedly conservative direction.55 As

Wecker states, “as a composer Brüll remained faithful to the models which had brought him success in his early years, and flatly refused to have anything to do with new developments. He thereby placed himself in growing opposition to his time.”56 Brüll’s firm stance was in the tradition of the conservative-classical school and Wecker outlines this tradition’s most

54 Wecker, Hyperion C.D. accompanying booklet, 1and 3. 55 Wecker, Der Epigone, 197. 56 Wecker, Hyperion C.D. accompanying booklet, 3. 85

distinguishing features as “a clear awareness of form based on Classical models, and a measured form of expression which shunned excess and exaggeration.”57 This statement is a good reflection of the general comments by critics or reviewers on several of Brüll’s works through to the 1880s. Even as late at 1902, his allegiance to classical models is still apparent in his work,

Andante and Allegro, Concertstücke für Pianoforte mit Begleitung des Orchesters (Op. 88). The

Andante has a traditional ABA’ formal plan and a simple I-IV-I gross tonal structure. The

Allegro is essentially constructed as a rondo form flanked by an introduction and coda section.

The introduction is a bit unusual, with an ambiguous start in regards to key; however, it eventually settles on E major (V of a minor) before the first A section. It also opens with a dotted fanfare on repeated notes in the orchestra followed by a dramatic chromatic scalar section with the piano descending directly into the A section. The A Section material returns each time, slightly varied, and always in the key of a minor (See Ex. 3.4.1). The contrasting sections explore a variety of key areas, more so than his earlier concertos described above, however, there is still a sense of a clear tonal plan with the return of each A section grounded in a minor. So even at this late stage in his compositional life, this work reflects his preference for classical models during a time when the use of such models was considered out of date. Composing in older forms and refusing to break with classical traditions however, was his choice, he stood by it, and it did not truly become that much of an issue for him. Brüll had fused himself into the middle class of Vienna and possessed a rather exposed position in musical life, because of his associations with the Brahms’ circle. 58 Wecker has also argued that Brüll was essentially an epigone because he was a Jew assimilating into the larger culture around him.59 The larger

57 Ibid. 58 Wecker, Der Epigone, 197. 59 Ibid., 15. Wecker’s discusses Brüll’s position as a well assimilated Jewish artist in relation to epigonism which is not an uncommon association. He also points out the polarities of Genius and Epigone prevalent in the nineteenth 86

culture around him was not necessarily as conservative as him and he was clearly a conservative composer at a time of post Wagnerian style, and Bruckner, for example, and he was certainly less inventive than Brahms.

Ex. 3.4.1 Allegro Movement from Andante and Allegro Op. 88 – Rondo Form Intro A B C A’ D A’’ Coda mm.1-28 29-97 98-135 136-171 172-317 318-356 357-407 408-492  EM am CM  FM  am Em?  am AM

Brüll was eventually well established in a prominent Viennese circle and he particularly found success with his skills as a performer and interpreter of the masters. He also managed to generate a considerable amount of musical compositions, many of which were premiered in front of this very circle and thus supported by them as well. However, it might be possible that he was more successful as a pianist than as a composer, considering his extensive touring career and the majority of reviews that comment on his performances as a pianist, and despite Wecker’s focus on his operatic works, the fact remains that his works essentially fell off the map at the end of the century and not until recently has any attention been paid to him.

Jewish Issues

From the evidence we have from the reviews and reports about him, Brüll’s career does not seem to have suffered from his Jewish background. As far as we know, his race did not play a role in the “musical discourse” about him, as he was never pointed out as Jewish in the reviews, or in other communications about him. Also, unless there may exist additional hidden

century. He further explains that epigonism was seen in the context of the Jewish assimilated minority and Brüll would be considered an Epigone because he was a Jew. But he cautions that this circumstance is not to be attributed to ethnic differences, but rather based upon strong social causes, that forced him to seek the consent with the middle class German level of taste. There is literature which supports the fact the Jews were designated as epigones because of their attempts at assimilation and acculturating themselves into the culture around them. Anti-Semitic literature would take it one step further and designate the reason they were epigones was a result of inability to create art and therefore they could not be geniuses (218). See, Ulrich Charpa and Ute Deichmann, “Jewish Scientists and Geniuses and Epigones” in Epigonism and the dynamic of Jewish Culture, eds. Shlomo Berger and Irene E. Zwiep (Belgium: Peeters, 2008), 75-108. 87

evidence that we are missing at this moment, it seems that his success or lack thereof was not due to his race, but to what people perceived as his artistic merits or defects. This evaluation does not correspond to the usual prototypical anti-Semitic treatment of Jews, such as

Goldmark’s, who belonged to the same circle as Brüll, and was often signaled out solely because of his Jewish origins. In Brüll’s case, it is not clear whether during his time there may have been a general lack of knowledge that he was in fact Jewish, nor if he purposely hid his origins. The reasons why he chose to write in a conservative style remain obscure: they could have had to do with personal taste, with his reluctance to pursue the most advanced styles of his time, but in any case, it would be sheer speculation to claim that they were due to his Jewishness.

Though I have suggested above that Brüll experienced success in assimilating into the cultural scene of Vienna and had a notable position in that society with his membership with the

Brahms circle, there is still some evidence suggesting that it was not an entirely positive experience. It would appear that he, along with other members of that circle, were still treated as

Jews thanks in part to the anti-Semitic atmosphere outlined earlier. The story inevitably returns to Wagner and his outspoken opinions regarding the Jews. The tensions between Wagner and

Brahms, stemming from their opposing views on musical style and aesthetics, are well known and do not need to be outlined here. Wagner’s many attacks on Brahms, including the latter’s liberal tendencies, have been discussed by scholars such as Leon Botstein and Margaret Notley, both of whom Geiringer references in regards to his discussion of three particular pamphlets written by Wagner in 1879 which deal in part with Brahms.60 The main issue was that Wagner

60 Leon Botstein, “Brahms and Nineteenth-Century Painting,” in 19th Century Music 14/ 2 (Fall 1990): 157-59; Margaret Notley, “Brahms as Liberal: Genre, Style, and Politics in Late Nineteenth-Century Vienna,” in 19th Century Music 17/2 (Fall 1993): 107-23; Geiringer, On Brahms and His Circle, 374. Wagner’s pamphlets or epithets referred to here include: “Über das Dichten und Komponieren,” “Über das Operndichten und Komponieren im Besonderen,” and “Über die Anwendung der Musik auf das Drama” in Gesammelte Schriften und Dichtungen 10: 194-99, 225, 238-9. 88

linked Brahms to the Jews when he attacked him for his fascination with folk music (German and Eastern European) which influenced his compositions, such as his Hungarian Dances.61 As

Geiringer points out, Wagner, in his Bayreuther Blätter, wrote a heated article against Brahms, in which he described him as a “street singer” and a “Jewish czardas player.”62 Geiringer further suggests that the characterization of Brahms as Jewish by Wagner was also an (indirect) attack against many of Brahms’ upper middle-class supporters in Vienna including the Faber and

Wittgenstein families, as well as members of the Brahms circle, including, Goldmark, Hanslick,

Brüll, Epstein, Grünfeld, Spitzer and others listed above who were Jewish or considered as such

“despite conversion […] by anti-Semites.”63 Geiringer also states that Wagner’s remarks

“impugned the liberal politics espoused by Brahms and his friends,” which included well-known industrialists and several music critics who wrote for liberalist papers.64 As discussed earlier,

Jews and liberals were commonly connected during the latter part of the nineteenth century because of emancipation and the Jews’ general support for the liberal party. Also worthy of note here is the fact that when Wagner penned these remarks, it was at the same time that Austrian liberals were under siege from rising power of both the Austrian Pan Germans and Viennese

Christian Socialist parties which were discussed in detail earlier. So the connection of Brahms to the Jews, to the point of actually designating him as one, is just another example of the political climate during this time. The negativity surrounding the Jews was ubiquitous and it was not uncommon for those who had allegiances or close relationships with other Jews to experience

61 Geiringer, On Brahms and His Circle , 374. 62 Ibid., 85. Geiringer also notes that “Wagner, however, as early as 1869, in his essay ‘Über das Dirigieren,’ delivered a covert attack upon Brahms, referring in sarcastic terms to their meeting in Vienna. In later years his tone became positively vindictive, and the fact that his music was bitterly attacked by numerous critics of Brahms’ circle increased his hostility.” 63 Ibid., 372. 64 Ibid. The industrialists referred to included: Richard Fellinger and Viktor von Millier zu Aichholz. Also included as friends of Brahms by Wagner are Theodor Billroth and several music critics who wrote for liberal papers including: Gustav Domke, Eduard Hanslick, Richard Heuberger, and Max Kalbeck. 89

that negativity as well. Though negative remarks were only indirectly aimed towards Brüll because of his membership with this particular circle, the tension would still have been present and contributed to his experience as a Jewish composer in nineteenth-century Vienna.

Despite the suggested closeness of this circle and their relentless support for one another, there were tensions within the group that underline the fact that the members of the group were not immune to the prevalent anti-Semitism in the last decades of the nineteenth century and to the unavoidable influence it had on individuals despite their outward intolerance for it. An incident, recounted by Richard Specht, involved Brahms and Goldmark at Brüll’s residence during the 1890s.65 During this particular incident Brahms decided to make a joke at Goldmark’s expense in connection with the new Austrian currency where the Gulden and Kreuzer were replaced with the Kroner and Heller. According to Specht, Brahms made the remark that “even the Kreutzer Sonata won’t be any good now; Goldmark will have to write us a Heller Sonata, though it will only be worth half as much.”66 Brüll is noted for his quick statement, after an awkward pause in conversation, “Not at all, for it will be a Gold Mark Sonata!”, a phrase which pacified the situation for the time being.67 This anecdote is not outwardly anti-Semitic, yet it suggests a twinge of the underlying tension within the group concerning the treatment of

Goldmark.

65 Richard Specht, Johannes Brahms, trans. Eric Blom (London: J & M Dent and Sons Ltd., 1930), 184. Specht does give the date of this particular instance but at one point he designated first meeting Brahms at the Brüll’s during the 1890s and furthers that he would spend more and more time there (See page 301). 66 Ibid. Brahms’ and Goldmark’s relationship was full of tensions as is evident from another instance in which Brahms was awarded the Order of Leopold, the highest of Austrian decorations as explained by Specht. He was awarded this by the Emperor Francis Joseph himself and at the same time Goldmark was awarded the Order of Francis Joseph, a less desirable award than that of Brahms, and a disappointment to Goldmark who was always trying to achieve some kind of equality between him and Brahms. The relationship became strained further when Brahms began to incessantly declare that the higher order he was given made him Goldmark’s superior, which hurt Goldmark dearly, according to Specht. 67 Ibid. Brüll was likely a mediator between the two on more than one occasion as it was in his kind nature to relieve the tension. 90

More explicit tension can be seen in another incident which escalated to a point where we see that the fact of Goldmark’s Judaism came into the confrontation. Specht describes the isolated incident, which, again, happened at Brüll’s residence. As Specht recalls, Goldmark had just come out with a new setting of Luther’s liturgical text “Wer sich die Musik erkiest.” The reactions were very positive from everyone except Brahms, who is said to have sat there very quiet while the others gave forth their support and praise. Then suddenly, Specht explains,

Brahms “broke out violently, inveighing against the impropriety on the part of a Jew to take it upon himself to set a text by Luther to music. It was impossible he said, for one of another faith to adjust his mind to a world of poetry that must be utterly strange to him, and the result must necessarily be a false one if he dared to attempt it.”68 Goldmark reportedly went “deadly pale” and tried to defend himself; however, Brahms, knowing full well he was in the wrong, continued to argue his point as part of a stubborn reaction. After this incident the two only met in formal settings.69 Specht makes a point of noting how the incident is unexplainable, as Brahms normally abhorred anti-Semitism of any kind.70 But he still makes note of it, which is curious. What is more interesting is how Specht continues this defense. He then claims that “it is established beyond argument that an artist of whatsoever faith has a right to deal with religious themes which for him are legendary material and involve no dogmatic avowal. Liturgical texts alone had best be avoided by those of another faith; but this does not apply to words which are concerned not with religion, but with the praise of the “fair art” that must come from the heart of every composer, be he Jew, Christian, or Pagan.”71 What I find important here resonates with the first two chapters, where I discuss how the rhetoric of anti-Semitism was so prominent that it infected

68 Ibid., 185. 69 Ibid. 70 Ibid. 71 Ibid., 185-86. 91

the language even of those who favored the Jewish cause. The fact that Brahms is reported as making such remarks, isolated as they were, shows the prevalence of the characterization of the

Jew and the ways in which this characterization was engrained into the mind of society despite their individual stance on the subject. Specht’s defense, though attempting to prove the right of the composer to use the text of his choice, ultimately reinforces Brahms’ “momentary” opinion that Goldmark, the Jewish composer, should not attempt to set music to a German religious text as he knows nothing about it. Specht specifically refers to liturgical texts and makes the obvious assumption that someone of a different faith best leave other religious texts alone, an opinion which would be considered a normal position on the topic and which apparently continued to endure into the 1920s, when Specht wrote this. This is a perfect example of a consistent issue during this period, which comes out in the criticism as well, in which no matter what stance an author took in regards to anti-Semitism, the language is the same for both sides. As Botstein puts it so succinctly, “the Jews in history are no longer defined by their own choices, by who they were and how they lived. They have been redefined reductively as objects of history and rounded up (and this is an intentionally provocative metaphor) by historians along the very terms adopted by their enemies.”72

Specht proves to be a useful source in learning more about what Brüll was like as a person and a composer. Having spent a great amount of time with Brüll and the rest of Brahms’ circle he had a rather unique inside look at not only the dynamics of the group but at Brüll’s personality and the group’s perception of him as well. Specht mentions Brüll as one of

Goldmark’s closest friends. He also elaborates on Brüll’s relationship with Brahms which I have

72 Botstein, “The Jewish Question in Music,” 441-42. He further comments that “The Jews and the Jewish life in Europe historians now turn to, as an aggregate, are artificial, a blunt fiction of coherence who definition stems from the criteria used by the Nazis for segregation and slaughter.” As I have pointed out earlier, this language stems back further than just the Nazis, to the political climate of late nineteenth century in Austria and Germany and its influence continues through to the middle of the twentieth century. 92

already outlined, except that he refers to Brüll as “childlike” on more than one occasion: in reference to Brahms’ admiration for Brüll, and in general comments on the man himself as

Specht said to Brahms “You succumbed from the first moment to this dear, great infant.”73 This is another example of the prevalence of the characterization of the Jew with particular language, in this instance reminding the description “child-like” in relation to the characterization of

Mendelssohn discussed in the first chapter. Specht said this of Brüll as a composer:

He belonged to the minstrel race of Schubert; richest plenitude of melody flowed from him incessantly, but he cared little for masterly possession and organization of his inspirations, which he presented with simplicity of execution that was felt to be too ingenuous even in his own time and denies permanence to his pleasant, songful and heartfelt music.74

He furthers this description with his statement that “He was indeed a stranger to his own time, ours would have blighted him entirely.”75 My assumption is that he too is referring to Brüll’s conservative aesthetic. Specht does question the reality of Brahms’ and Brüll’s friendship despite the fact that they spent a large amount of time together (Brahms even had a pet name for Brüll,

“Nazi” — a shortening of Ignaz), and had an intimate personal and musical relationship. Brahms often expressed his gratitude towards Brüll and spoke highly of him, but he never expressed his gratitude in the highest form: a dedication of a piece to Brüll. Perhaps Specht is suggesting some sort of falsity in the true relationship between these two composers, but that is not really relevant.

The close associations of this circle and of Brahms himself, regardless of the intimate details, had to have contributed in one way or another to Brüll’s experience as an assimilated Jewish

73Richard Specht, Johannes Brahms, 186-187. He notes that Brahms “envied Brüll [in] the abundance of his melodic ideas; that he would make three works out of what this careless spendthrift lavished on a single one.” He mentions also that Brahms was fond of Brüll on account of his childlike goodness and artlessness, along with his excellent musicianship and “incomparable interpretation of the masters’ piano works.” 74 Ibid., 186. 75 Ibid., 187. 93

composer in a metropolis such as Vienna during a period of immense political and cultural upheaval and ultimately influenced his position in that society.

Conclusions

Considering the concept of Jewish music outlined in the previous chapter and the works elaborated on or alluded to here, it would appear that Brüll never actively composed in the genres which fall under the Jewish Music umbrella. If anything, he was actively composing within the confines of the German classical tradition right up until his death in 1907. If we also consider that in the majority of reviews of his works that are available, we can see that despite the anti-Semitic climate outlined above, not once is his Jewishness explicitly nor implicitly referenced. This is true even in those reviews which could be considered negative, so one speculation gains credence -- that he purposely hid his origins. There is however, nothing concrete to support this assumption. What we do know is that Brüll is cited as Jewish in the sources or publications that include him, and so it is reasonable to assume that there had to be some awareness of his origins.76 It is interesting though that other than the anecdotes cited above from the Brahms circle, there are no documented accounts of public attacks against Brüll of the kinds received by Mahler or other prominent Jewish composers in this city at that time. The fact that he was composing within classical forms and older traditions may have been a bone of contention for some reviewers, but it may have been his saving grace, for in the contemporary political climate it would be far better to be attacked for conservative tendencies than Jewish

76 See http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/directory/B/3729?page=2 ; Also see Theophil Antonicek, et al. "Vienna," Grove Music Online, Oxford Music Online, Oxford University Press, accessed March 2, 2013, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.ezproxy.library.ubc.ca/subscriber/article/grove/music/29326. Brüll is referenced in relation to the percentage of Jewish students and music teachers – specifically piano instructors – and alongside other Jewish musicians, including Julius Epstein, Anton Dorr, Emil Sauer, Alfred Grünfeld. Further more he is included in a list of opera contributors that belonged a “non-German population” that also included Smetana, and Goldmark, to mention a few. 94

ones which, as has been shown, immediately invited stigma and rejection. Regardless of the critics’ mixed reviews of Brüll’s compositional work, of which the biggest issue was his conservative leanings, Wecker states, “he nevertheless received many tributes on 7 November

1906, the occasion of his sixtieth birthday, [and] when he unexpectedly died only a few months later, on 17 September 1907, the public mourned him as a serious musician whose artistic endeavours had always shown integrity and sincerity.”77

77 Wecker, Hyperion C.D. accompanying booklet, 3. 95

Chapter Four: Salomon Jadassohn

Salomon Jadassohn

The second composer of this case-study comparison is Salomon Jadassohn (1831-1902).

He was born into a Jewish family in the town of Breslau (Wrocław in Polish). Breslau was known for its Jewish population, many of whom were privileged, assimilated Jews, and many families there supported the Haskalah and reform tendencies.1 There were also a large percentage of orthodox Jews in Breslau who were against reform and assimilation promoted by the community’s leaders, and so there existed some tension between these two groups. Regardless of reform and assimilation, both groups were active in Jewish religious and cultural activities.2

From an early age Jadassohn studied violin, theory and piano. In May 1848 he moved to

Leipzig where he studied piano with Ignaz Moscheles (1794-1870), composition with Ernest

Friedrich Richter (1808-1879), and music theory with Moritz Hauptmann (1792-1868) at the

Conservatory.3 Jadassohn left the Conservatory only two years later, largely due to his discontent and lack of inspiration from his composition instructors.4 Beate Hiltner notes Jadassohn’s desire to establish himself in Leipzig, a place he perceived as highly competitive for composition and performance, and to which he would eventually return.5

1 http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/judaica/ejud_0002_0004_0_03508.html. 2 Ibid. 3 Charlotte Moscheles, Life of Moscheles: with Selections from his diaries and correspondences, Vol. II, trans. A.D. Coleridge (London: Hurst and Blackett Pub., 1873), 266. Moscheles noted Jadassohn as a devoted pupil (among others). See Dale A. Jorgenson, Moritz Hauptmann of Leipzig (New York: Edwin Mellen Press, 1986), 81. Beate Hiltner, Salomon Jadassohn: Komponist, Musiktheoretiker, Pianist, Pädagogue (Leipzig: Leipziger Universitatslag, 1995), 23-25. Pages 23 and 25 provide the information that Jadassohn is on the roster lists of Hauptmann’s students during this period, and discusses his association with Moscheles and Hauptmann as instructors. Hiltner also indicates that Jadassohn later returned to take private lessons from Hauptmann. 4 Hiltner, Salomon Jadassohn: Komponist, Musiktheoretiker, Pianist, Pädagogue, 33. 5 Ibid., 28. 96

After Jadassohn left the Conservatory, he travelled to Weimar in 1849 in order to study with and seek advice from Franz Liszt; this is where he learned about salon music culture.6 At

Weimar, salons involved an intimate gathering of musicians as well as other intellectuals at

Liszt’s home (the Altenburg) where many musical works were presented, often with Liszt at the piano. Those who frequented there included such prominent figures as Wagner, Brahms, and

Rubinstein, as well as Liszt’s own students.7 In Weimar, Jadassohn became acquainted with

Liszt’s difficult and technically complicated piano repertoire, and in particular with his improvisational skills.8 The works of Wagner also made quite an impression on him while in

Weimar, where he heard them for the first time, including the premiere of Lohengrin on August

28th 1850, under Liszt’s direction.9 The work left a deep and long lasting mark on Jadassohn, who later conducted it himself in Leipzig and took scenes from it for a concert there in 1869.10

Jadassohn, reflecting on the Lohengrin premiere, remarked on the melodic power and mastery of the work, praising it as Wagner’s noblest, most complete and most powerful work.11 Jadassohn’s documented fascination and respect for Wagner’s work is curious, considering Wagner’s well- known views on the Jews outlined earlier.

6 Ibid., 33. 7 G. Kraft and Dieter Härtwig, "Weimar," Grove Music Online, Oxford Music Online, Oxford University Press, accessed November 13, 2012, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/30033. Liszt is noted as describing Weimar as the “ ‘magnetic mountain’ of the fairy tale,” and “his presence there made the town the centre of the German avant garde.” His home is described as “a mirror of the European musical panorama” and several prominent musicians frequented there including Wagner, Raff, Brahms, Cornelius, Smetana, Borodin, Glazunov, Rubinstein and Bülow, while students and young virtuosos gathered at his second house, the Hofgärtnerei (which is now the Liszt Museum); Alan Walker, et al., "Liszt, Franz," Grove Music Online, Oxford Music Online, Oxford University Press, accessed November 13, 2012, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/48265pg19. “The Sunday afternoon ‘matinées’ held in the large music room of the Altenburg (Liszt’s home in Weimar) provided a perfect setting for the performance of these pieces (Songs), within the circle of Liszt’s own admirers, and often with Liszt himself at the keyboard.” 8 Hiltner, Salomon Jadassohn: Komponist, Musiktheoretiker, Pianist, Pädagogue, 33. 9 Ibid., 34. 10 Ibid. 11 Ibid. 97

While in Weimar, Jadassohn also came into contact with Hans von Bülow (1830-1894).

Jadassohn and Bülow both made their first public piano performance at a Benefit Concert in

1848 in Dresden.12 Bülow was also in Weimar to seek out Liszt for artistic advice and instruction.13 Hiltner suggests that Bülow, who was not Jewish, had it easier in some ways compared to Jadassohn. Bülow was apparently better received, was perceived as witty and interesting, and was able to make bold statements regarding Mozart not really being a genius, without any repercussions. She believes that because Jadassohn was Jewish he would inevitably have had more obstacles to overcome and was therefore not as successful.14 This conclusion is somewhat subjective based on the fact that he was Jewish. He may have had difficulties early in his career of trying to get his works performed for example, but there is no specific evidence that the reasons for this were strictly because of his origins. How long Jadassohn actually studied composition with Liszt while in Weimar has not been concretely established, but Hiltner suggests that Liszt and Wagner had set standards that were in some ways unattainable for

Jadassohn, and as a result he deliberately chose to avoid the harmonic experiments found in

Wagner.15 Jadassohn returned to Leipzig in 1852. He did not completely lose touch with Liszt after his departure, though, as is evident from a letter written to Jadassohn by Liszt much later in

1881, while Jadassohn was teaching at the Leipzig Conservatory. The letter essentially thanked

Jadassohn for his dedication of his recent setting of the 100th Psalm to Liszt, and he praised

Jadassohn’s work as “nobly religious in feeling and excellent style.”16 Liszt also pointed out other moments of orchestration and expression which pleased him and noted that he would

12 Ibid., 38. 13 Ibid., 38. 14 Ibid. 15 Ibid., 39. 16 La Mara, Letters of Franz Liszt Vol. II (London: H. Grevel & Co., 1994), 376-77. 98

recommend the work to be performed by his friends and the Kapellmeister in Weimar.17 This particular Psalm setting was performed at the Gewandhaus in 1881; The Musical World commented that “it excited much admiration and was applauded with a warmth unusual at these concerts when sacred music is given,” reflecting the public’s positive reception of the work.18

Once Jadassohn returned to Leipzig he took private instruction from Hauptmann, studying theory, composition and instrumentation. Hauptmann instructed many students besides

Jadassohn, including Ferdinand David, Joseph Joachim, and Hans von Bülow. He was a reputable figure who also held various posts besides his position at the conservatory, including

Kantor of the Thomasschule in Leipzig, editor of the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, and founder-member of the Bach-Gesellschaft. 19 His compositions, theoretical works, and “historical endeavours” reflect a preference for “classical proportion, formal order, metrical clarity and tonal logic.”20 As will be discussed below, Jadassohn retained similar preferences in his own compositional work and Hauptmann’s instruction was likely a major influence. Between 1856 and 1870, Jadassohn did some of his own private instruction of piano and composition at the

Keßlerschen Music Institute, which was a busy music school run by Hermann Keßler and

17 Ibid. 18 “Leipsic,” in The Musical World 59/11 (Mar. 12 1881): 156. This particular concert is referred to as the “18th Concert” at the Gewandhaus. 19Janna Saslaw, "Hauptmann, Moritz," Grove Music Online, Oxford Music Online, Oxford University Press, accessed November 13, 2012, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/12555. Hauptmann was a German composer, theorist and teacher. He studied the violin and composition with Louis Spohr (1784-1859) and worked as a violinist in Dresden. He eventually went to Kassel and became a court chapel violinist under Spohr, remained there for 20 years, and during that time he developed a reputation as composer and theorist. He was appointed Kantor of the Thomasschule in Leipzig in 1842 (on the recommendation of Spohr and Mendelssohn). The next year he was appointed teacher of theory and composition at the newly founded Leipzig Conservatory. Also in 1843 he was editor of the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung and in 1850 he became a founder- member of the Bach-Gesellschaft; he edited three volumes and remained president of the society until his death. His sacred and secular vocal pieces, as well as his instrumental compositions, were well received and were a staple of the choral repertory. 20 Ibid. 99

employing approximately 30 other instructors.21 It is only during the winter semester of 1871-72 that he officially started teaching at the Leipzig Conservatory, where he taught harmony, composition, counterpoint, and piano.22 Whether Jadassohn had an active career as a pianist, besides his activities at the Conservatory as a student, is unclear. His later position at the

Conservatory as a piano instructor would, however, suggest the level of his ability if nothing else. It would appear, though, that if he were actively performing, it would not have been to the same degree as Brüll when he was in Vienna (and elsewhere), as Jadassohn’s performance abilities are not mentioned in the majority of reviews (of his compositions) available. He also received invitations from both Cambridge and New York universities but felt he would benefit more professionally if he stayed in Leipzig. On December 5th 1887 he received an honorary PhD from the University of Leipzig.23

During the time that Jadassohn was trying to establish himself in Leipzig, he inevitably had dealings with Carl Reinecke who, besides his notoriety as the musical director of the prestigious Gewandhaus, was also well known as a serious competitor in piano performance.

Reinecke studied with Mendelssohn and Schumann and later became a teacher, conductor and composer himself. Hiltner points out the clear competitive tensions between Reinecke and

Jadassohn and that these tensions may have had a bearing on Jadassohn’s success and acceptance in Leipzig, especially if one considers Reinecke’s position as music director beginning in 1860.24

21 Hiltner, Salomon Jadassohn: Komponist, Musiktheoretiker, Pianist, Pädagogue, 67. Hiltner references the other Music Institutes of Richter or Heinss which only had a few instructors in comparison to Keßler’s which had approximately 30 instructors. Salomon Jadassohn instructed piano, music theory and composition there. At this institute, the young Jadassohn was able to acquire his first music pedagogic experiences. 22 Ibid., 98. 23 Ibid. 24 Ibid., 28 and 33. She notes a specific instance from March 13th 1890 in which Jadassohn was invited to have his Serenade Nr. 4 played at another Gewandhaus concert. Jadassohn had specified his wishes to have the work performed at a certain point of the program which Reinecke did not agree with and, as director; he made a point of placing the work exactly opposite of where Jadassohn preferred it be placed. There are plenty of minor disagreements such as these noted by Hiltner regarding Jadassohn and Reinecke’s interactions (See pg. 131). 100

Competitive tensions between composers in terms of composition and the performance of their works are certainly not uncommon, and if this is the case, this competition actually lends credibility to the assumption that Jadassohn was an acculturated Jewish composer who was vying against other well-established composers (including lesser known composers such as

Brüll) in that society. As will be discussed shortly, Jadassohn’s contributions to the Gewandhaus concert seasons suggest that though there may have been competitive tensions between him and

Reinecke, there was nonetheless some level of respect on Reineke’s part, since he (as musical director) had to approve the performance of Jadassohn’s works there, and since in some cases

Jadassohn was also the conductor.25

Jadassohn’s Participation in Leipzig’s Musical Life

Unlike many of his colleagues at the Conservatory, Jadassohn saw himself as a composer above all else; therefore his compositional works deserve further examination.26 Jadassohn’s musical output was extensive (and on par with Brüll’s) and he wrote a number of chamber works, piano character pieces, piano concertos, symphonies and arranged and edited a significant number of the same types of works of composers such as Bach, Haydn, Schubert, Mendelssohn, etc (See Appendix II for complete list of works). Jadassohn had 12 premieres at the Gewandhaus between 1860 and 1881.27 As mentioned earlier, this was during the period when Reinecke was

25 Ibid., 54. For example, Jadassohn conducted his Symphony No.2 at a Gewandhaus Concert on Nov. 26th 1863. 26 Ibid., 125. 27 Ibid., 28 and 51. Six of the twelve premieres were printed compositions and the remaining six were from manuscripts. Publishing houses that printed his works included: Kistner, Heinze, C.F Peters, and Breitkopf & Härtel, 126. 101

director of the Gewandhaus and so despite their competitive tension, Jadassohn still managed to have his work performed publicly in an esteemed venue and continued to do so until 1893.28

One work performed at the Gewandhaus on more than one occasion was his Symphony

No. 1 in C Major, Op. 24 (1860).29 Jadassohn employs a typical classical orchestration of woodwinds, horns, strings and timpani. The first and last movements reflect Jadassohn’s preference for a classical sonata form, and are both similar in structure as shown in Ex. 4.1.1.

The first movement opens with a typical exposition in ¾ time that presents the first theme in the tonic key. The rhythmic opening theme is heroic in nature, with dotted rhythms, accents, forte- fortissimo dynamics, and includes a chromatic chord almost at the opening of the piece, in measure 2 (vii◦7/V: C-Eb-F#-A). Following the opening theme is a section of transitional material (mm. 39-54), which brings the modulation to the dominant G established through an authentic cadence at m. 55, articulated by a more lyrical and waltz-like second theme. We remain in the dominant key until the end of the exposition (m. 117), but at m. 81 there is a further elaboration of the “waltz”-like formulas of theme 2 and an excursion to EbM (the bVI of the dominant key), leading to a closing in the dominant key.

The development section begins in the dominant key but immediately shifts to the relative minor (e minor) in measure 120. As the section progresses, various materials from the exposition are explored, such as material from the transition section (m. 39), which is presented at the beginning of the development. After another modulation to D major in measure 129, more

28 Ibid., 84. Other works performed at the Gewandhaus after 1881 included the following: Trostlied in 1882, Scherzo für Klavier Op.35 in 1885, Jauchzet dem Herrn alle Welt in 1886, Serenade D-Dur für Flöte und Streichorchester in 1887, Symphonie No.4 and Klavierkonzert c Moll op.8 in 1888, Serenade No.4 in D-Dur in 1884, 1890, and 1893. 29 The Symphony in C major, Op.24, was presented at the Gewandhaus (precise date not given) as noted in the DMZ 2/1 (Jan1. 1861): 7. Also on the program that evening was Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, Chopin’s E Major Polonaise, a Scarlatti sonata (title no given) among others. It was also presented at the Gewandhaus on Dec. 10, 1872 as noted in AMZ 7/4 (Jan. 24 1872): 67. Also on the program this evening was Reinecke’s Overture from König Manfred, Holstein’s Aria from Der Haideschach, Beethoven’s Concerto No.4 in GM, Weber’s Overture from Freischütz, along with various lieder from Reinecke, Schubert and Schumann. 102

material from the exposition’s second theme (m. 55) is presented in measure 163 with a move to the key of A major. This is followed by a few more brief modulations (BM and AbM) leading back to the dominant key. The section ends similarly to the exposition’s closing bars (mm. 106-

117) with running eighth notes in the strings and sustained half notes in the winds (mm. 179-

188), ending with a V-I cadence in measure 189 and the beginning of the recapitulation. The recapitulation repeats the exposition material without any real deviations and concludes with a

V-I cadence in measure 286. The coda section is a large scale prolongation of the tonic with various textures that include sustained notes, arpeggios, and moments of orchestral unison in fortissimo.

The finale, as mentioned above, is also in sonata form and similar in structure to the first movement. The exuberant opening theme (reminiscent of Mendelssohn) is presented with forte dynamics and a quick tempo in the key of C major. This is followed by a transitional section

(mm. 16-39) and a move to the dominant key and the second theme in measure 40. The second theme, in contrast to the first, is lighter in texture, with several staccato notes, and some dialogue-like interaction between the strings and the woodwinds (mm. 42-52), and maintains largely the V/V rather than the dominant tonic (G). A solo horn adds a new layer to the theme in measure 52 with an excursion to the key of D major. After a modulation back to G major, a dominant pedal (mm. 103-111) leads to the development section in measure 112. The development section contains a characteristic walking bass that moves through several sequences and counterpoint that pervade the section, with the exception of mm. 137-153 where the bass line is broken up by the same dialogue-like section present in the second theme of the exposition. The recapitulation is a standard repetition of the exposition and leads to a coda which, like the first movement, is essentially a large scale tonic prolongation (mm. 307-361).

103

Ex. 4.1.1 Symphony No.1 in C Major, Op. 24, 1860 Movement I - Sonata Form Diagram Exposition Development Recapitulation Coda

Th.1 tr Th.2 Cl. Sec. Th.1 tr Th.2 mm. 1 39 55 81 96 118 120 129 163 171 179 184 189 207 223 286 330 CM GM (EbM) GM GM em DM AM BM AbM GM CM GM CM CM

Symphony No.1 in C Major, Op. 24, 1860 Movement IV – Sonata Form Exposition Development Recapitulation Coda

Th.1 tr 1 Th.2 tr Th.1 tr1 Th.2 tr mm. 1 16 40 64 91 112 113 179 181 196 220 244 271 307 361 CM GM DM GM GM EbM GM CM GM CM CM

The Andante is not, as one would expect, in the second position of the classical symphony structure, but rather the third movement of the work. The second movement is a

Scherzo with a very standard rondo form (A-B-A-C-A-B-A-C), reflected in Ex. 4.1.2, in which the A material returns each time in F major while the alternate B and C sections explore other typical keys such as CM, GM and dm. The Andante is loosely an ABA’B’ structure that begins in f minor, modulates through a number of keys and concludes a varied repetition of the B’ section in F major (see Ex. 4.1.3). Its mood is particularly expressive of mournful feelings, expressed especially through its “Marcia funebre” topic, and through chromaticism and a more dissonant language.

Ex. 4.1.2 Symphony No.1 in C Major, Op. 24 Movement II - Rondo Form Diagram A B A C A B A C mm. 1-33 33-70 70-108 109-176 177-209 209—246 246-273 273-306 FM CM FM GM CM FM CM FM Dm FM

Ex. 4.1.3 Symphony No.1 in C Major, Op. 24 Movement III – ABA’B’ Form Diagram A B A’ B’ mm.1-28 28-51 52-92 91-121 Fm CM Fm  AbM ?? FM

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The reviews that mention this work were mixed, with both positive and negative aspects. A reviewer of one of its earliest presentations at the Gewandhaus in early December of 1860 commented that there were “painful extravagances” and noted the Andante as the “weakest movement,” but also praised the piece for its good “architecture, symmetry, and physiognomy” and concluded that overall the audience approved.30

In the 1880s in particular Jadassohn also actively participated in Abend-Unterhaltung

(Evening Entertainment) hosted by the conservatory, where his chamber music was an important contribution and inspired the younger generation at the time.31 Jadassohn’s piano trios are also reflective of his adherence to classical forms. The Piano Trio No.3, Op. 59 composed in 1880

(twenty years after the first two trios) makes use of a standard sonata form as seen in the first movement. The opening theme begins in c minor, followed by transitional material that modulates to the dominant (GM) for the second theme (m. 31) which briefly moves to EbM and into a codetta which returns to the dominant and leads to the development section. A standard modulatory development section (m.74) uses chromatic, mixed materials, including a staccato section as well as canon and imitation techniques eventually leading back to c minor and the recapitulation (m. 113). The recapitulation repeats the exposition material closely, however the internal harmonic structure is changed slightly with a brief modulation to f minor following the first theme and then a reappearance of the second theme in E major, eventually concluding in c minor and rounded off by a brief coda. The finale movement is also in sonata form and smaller in length compared to the first movement (See Ex. 4.2.1).

30 DMZ 2/1(Jan1. 1861): 7. 31 Hiltner, Salomon Jadassohn: Komponist, Musiktheoretiker, Pianist, Pädagogue, 115. Ensembles would participate in this in order to help them improve their performance skills I assume. Jadassohn’s Variationen Op.40 d- moll was one such worked performed on Friday, March 25 1883. 105

Ex. 4.2.1 Piano Trio No.3, Op. 59 Movement I – Sonata Form Exposition Development Recapitulation Coda

Th. 1 tr th.2 Mixed material Th.1 tr. Th.2 mm. 1 23 31 53 74 113 127 135 158-184 cm GM EbM GM GM  GM cm fm EM cm cm

Piano Trio No.3, Op. 59 Movement III – Sonata Form Exposition Development Recapitulation Coda

Th. 1 tr. th.2 Mixed material Th.1 tr. Th.2 Tonic Pedal mm. 1 16 20 30 86 104 108 119 140-148 cm AbM GM Gm fm sequence GM cm cm cm

Despite his generally conservative tendencies, his later Piano Concerto No. 1 in cm

Op.89 (1887) reflects a more experimental, yet still controlled, side to his compositional work.

The concerto retains the standard three movement structure but immediately deviates from the traditional classical concerto, with three interlinked movements with no breaks, and the first two are much shorter in length than the last movement. The brevity of the first two movements denies them any solid formal designation and so they are rather free in form moving fluidly from one to another. The Allegro is only 52 measures in length, and opens with a dramatic chromatic octave descent in eighth notes by the solo piano followed by a transitional lyrical section and a march-like fanfare before another thematic section begins that is dominated by the solo piano

(orchestral accompaniment role) and includes movement through other keys such as AbM, EbM and finally BbM (V of EbM) for the conclusion which elides with the opening of the Adagio (m.

52). The Adagio, (mm. 52-118) opens in Eb Major again with the solo piano dominating the presentation of lyrical material, as seen in Ex. 4.3.1 and moves through g minor before it returns to Eb major at the end of the movement. The lyrical thematic material is expanded upon in a variety of ways, including brief solos sections by the clarinet and flute, eventually leading to an

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orchestral presentation of thematic material with a piano overlay of 32nd note chromatic arpeggios as seen in Ex. 4.3.2.

Ex. 4.3.1 Piano Concerto No. 1, Adagio sostenuto (mm. 52-9)

Ex. 4.3.2 Piano Concerto No. 1, Piano overlay, Orchestral Theme (mm. 94-5)

The final movement, Allegro patetico, finally gives way to a full-fledged sonata form that the previous movements avoided. This particular work seems to reflect more the style of Liszt’s

Piano Concerto No. 1 in Eb Major, for example, which is similar to Jadassohn’s in construction

(minus one movement) including an improvisatory opening movement, an expansive slow

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section, and a finale which emerges as complex, but adhering to a sonata form. Even the musical materials of the two works have similarities. Ex. 4.3.3 shows Jadassohn’s opening material which is similar motivically and texturally to Liszt’s main theme.32

Ex. 4.3.3 Liszt’s Piano Concerto No. 1, S.124 Main Theme (mm. 1-6)

Jadassohn’s Piano Concerto No.1, Opening Material (mm. 1-11)

According to Hiltner, Jadassohn played a large role in the musical life of Leipzig during the first half of the 1890s. As the decade progressed, however, Jadassohn’s involvement in that musical scene decreased, and by 1894 his presence was no longer felt in the same way as before,

32 Kenneth Hamilton, The Cambridge Companion to Liszt (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2005), 16. 108

with the exception of his arrangement of Kol Nidrei which will be discussed shortly.33 There are likely a few contributing factors for his lack of participation at the end of the century, which include, among others, the fact that Reinecke left his post as musical director of the Gewandhaus in 1895 and was replaced by Arthur Nikisch, a slightly less conservative director, who allowed more contemporary compositions and modernist trends from the late 1890s into the Gewandhaus programs. Another possible factor was that Jadassohn, in general, had distaste for new compositions and musical developments happening towards the final years of the nineteenth century.34 He was conservative in his compositional style and musical tastes and lacked the understanding and perhaps the open-mindedness of the new generation that were breaking ground at the beginning of the twentieth century such as Schoenberg and other avant-garde composers. Another factor was his lack of a close knit group of musical supporters, like Brüll had in the Brahms’ circle, which meant less circulation of his music through performance and other musical activities of other established composers in that scene. Most likely, though, his musical conservatism may have hindered him in the last decades of the century as his compositional style was not evolving with the styles emerging at the time; and perhaps the increase of anti-Semitism during this same period may have contributed to negative reception.

Hiltner points out that his works began to fall off the map once Nikisch took control of the

Gewandhaus; subsequently the situation only worsened, and his works essentially disappeared after his death due in part to German Nationalist and National Socialist influence.35 Evidence for this is supported by the fact that Robert Eitner’s Quellen-Lexicon (1900-04), a source where one would seek for Jadassohn’s name (and seek in vain), does not list his name anywhere.36 He was

33 Hiltner, Salomon Jadassohn: Komponist, Musiktheoretiker, Pianist, Pädagogue, 28, and 141. 34 Ibid., 191. 35 Ibid. 36 Hiltner, 45. 109

actively composing right up until his death in 1902; however, as Hiltner mentions, some of these works had pedagogical intentions (eg. Sechs Kinderstücke fur das Pianoforte zu vier Handen

Op.115).37 So it is possible his focus on pedagogy took up more of his time in the last decade of his life.

Jadassohn as Pedagogue

As previously mentioned, Jadassohn taught numerous students both privately and at the

Conservatory in Leipzig. Among the more notable students was Felix Weingartner (1863-1942), the Austrian conductor, composer and pianist whom Jadassohn taught at the Conservatory in

1881-82. Weingartner, like others before him, did not stay at the Conservatory long and also went to Weimar in 1883 to receive instruction from Liszt.38 The English composer Frederick

Delius (1862-1934) was also taught by Jadassohn at the Conservatory in the 1880s. Delius remarked on his experience with his comment, “Jadassohn was neither a beautiful player nor a cultured musician.”39 This is a rather harsh criticism which was shared by Jadassohn’s other pupil, Ferrucio Busoni (1866-1924). Busoni was a temporary pupil of Jadassohn’s around 1890 and he does not appear to have been happy with that instruction as mentioned in one of his biographies, where is he said to have derived “no benefit from his lesson in counterpoint with

Jadassohn.”40 Despite these isolated negative experiences, Jadassohn was still a respected

37 Ibid., 141. 38 Ibid., 155. 39 Ibid., 157. Hiltner notes Delius’ further critique related to Jadassohn with his comment, “Another proof of how little the damned anaemic Conservatoire-erudition really signifies. Herr Sitt goes through the Theory of Harmony- Jadassohn of course.” Delius is clearly condemning the Conservatory for their use of Jadassohn’s own treatise for instruction, inferring that he could not get away from Jadassohn’s teachings. 40 Edward J. Dent, Ferrucio Busoni: A Biography (London: Oxford University Press, 1933), 68-69. Also noted here is the fact that Jadassohn had taught a friend of Busoni’s who was in turn getting help from Busoni because of his discontent with Jadassohn’s instruction. 110

pedagogue with numerous students, as evident from the roster lists of his piano and composition students at the conservatory during the 1870s and 1880s.41

Jadasssohn also instructed Moritz Möricke, for example, a vocal composer who studied composition with him around 1889-1892. Under Jadassohn’s instruction, which was by long distance much of the time, Möricke studied mostly choral works and motets.42 At this point in his life, Jadassohn was married with eight children and monetary compensation was a must, so it is understandable that he would make himself available for instruction even from a distance. In general, his style of instruction appears to have been somewhat conservative as he always had his students work through Bach’s Well Tempered Clavier as part of their studies on counterpoint and basic piano skills.43 This might explain the negative opinion of both Busoni and Delius considering that it was late in the century and the newer generation was moving away from classical principles and experimenting much more with form and harmony. These pedagogical interactions show that this Jewish composer, who was not necessarily as notable as other composers in that musical scene, was capable of achieving some success not only as a composer but also as a respected teacher. Despite the isolated criticism of Delius and Busoni, Jadassohn accumulated a significant number of other students, a fact that we can take as suggesting that he was not discriminated against because of his Jewish origins, either because they were unknown, or, more likely, because they were not important to those seeking his instruction.

41 Hiltner, Salomon Jadassohn: Komponist, Musiktheoretiker, Pianist, Pädagogue, 100-113. 42 Hiltner, “Salomon Jadassohn: Komponist – Musiktheoretiker - Pianist - Pädagogue” in Musikerzeihung (1996): 114. This is an article in a music periodical which was taken from her book. Möricke would send Jadassohn his compositions and theoretical works by mail for Jadassohn to assess. He then responded to Möricke and also received payment for his advice, as indicated by various letters of correspondence between the two. 43 Ibid. 111

L. Lubenau and Musical Treatises

One curious aspect of Jadassohn’s history was his decision to write and publish under the pseudonym L. Lubenau.44 According to Hiltner, under this name he relayed his experiences from his instructional activities. The first book was Musikalische Hören (1875) which discussed musical metaphysics and life of the soul.45 The second, entitled Inhalt und Form (1875), dealt with Arthur Schopenhauer’s thought, which comes out in more than one of his treatises as will be shown below. The third work under this pseudonym was Meisterwerke der instrumentalen

Tonkunst (1875). The last of these consecutive works published in 1875 was Die musikalische

Schlußcadenz.46 Jadassohn’s motivations for writing under another name are not clear, especially since he wrote several well-known treatises under his own name which include: Lehrbuch des einfachen, doppelten, drei-und vierfachen Contrapuncts, Die Lehre vom Canon und von der

Fuge, Lehrbuch der Instrumentation, Allgemeine Musiklehre, Elementar-Harmonielehre für den

Schul-und Selbstunterricht, Lehrbuch Der Harmonie. The most popular of these was his

Lehrbuch der Harmonie or Manual of Harmony. Jadassohn wrote various musical treatises toward the end of his life and this one in particular has sections devoted to his more personal feelings on music. For example, “How to Listen to Music” is one particular chapter that highlights his opinions on non-musical listeners compared to more musically trained ones and his position that everyone should strive to be the former.47 He references Robert Schumann as the “ideal hearer,” or someone who was capable of seeing the music laid out as if the score was

44 Ibid., 94. On page 47 Hiltner also briefly mentions another pseudonym “Avenel” under which he supposedly published Salon pieces through C.F Peters. 45 Ibid. 46 Ibid. 47 Salomon Jadassohn, Manual of Harmony, trans. Paul Torek and H.B. Pasmore (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1895), 199. He designates two categories of listeners: “really musical listener” vs. the “less capable listener.” He suggests that the really musical listener may find a piece which makes little impression on him, it might even displease him, whereas the less capable listener might find great pleasure in that same piece. He notes that marches, dances, songs, etc., act upon most everyone, becoming property of all, whereas larger, more complicated works (especially purely instrumental ones) demand a much higher or more particular training to be fully understood. 112

in front of him when listening, and Jadassohn emphasizes the importance of such capabilities.

These capabilities are important because the difference of music from the other arts

(painting/sculpture/architecture) is that music “continually flows past you and you must keep it together with memory to see the growing picture of the imagination of the composer” (unlike other arts where you are presented with the complete and finished product, which allows for gradual examination).48 He explains that other arts are based on or take ideas from nature or life, things which have substance, and thus they can represent “real or idealized occurrences,” whereas music, especially the purely instrumental, has no substance (no palpable content) and has no other ideas than purely musical ones, unlike music with text (vocal genres, church genres, etc.) that has more of a program and thus can be better understood. Purely instrumental music could affect anyone, including those he considers as untrained or incapable of hearing it, but the question is “whether this effect is produced by the partial or total conception of the artistic substance [which would only be understood by a trained musician] of the piece or if it created by something else?”49 The partial conception of the artistic substance can take place in the prominent themes of a piece, for example, which make an impression on the listener and remain in one’s memory.50 The importance of musical training which is emphasized in connection with

Absolute music becomes evident in his opinion that a trained listener is thus superior. For if people happen to fall into the category of “untrained,” thus being less capable listeners, they cannot truly appreciate the music because they essentially take the sensation (caused by a lyrical theme, or distinct rhythm) felt from the musical substance, and automatically create an

48 Ibid., 202. 49 Ibid., 203. Elements in the music, such as sound and rhythm, are the “something else” he is referring to and to him these will always make a considerable impression on the listener. He designates a section of this chapter to sound and rhythm in which he states that everyone (musician, non-musician, animals, etc) is sensible to the most “primitive” effect of all music (rhythm). 50 Ibid., 203. 113

unmusical picture or representation completely removed from the actual musical content.

Therefore they are too dependent on a program (that they have created for themselves) in order to understand a piece. Trained or capable listeners, on the other hand, can take the same sensation felt from the musical content they have just heard, and instead recognize the true musical accomplishments of the composer (based on compositional techniques and theoretical knowledge).51 Jadassohn finds the untrained and thus unmusical auditors in larger numbers and states that they will “remain in the vestibule of the temple of art.” While “others (may) succeed gradually in finding entrance into its sublime halls,” very few will ever “enter in to the sanctuary of music.”52

The chapter on “Substance and Form” highlights the type of Schopenhauerian philosophy he was attracted to. He opens this chapter by stating:

It has taken a long time for the acknowledgements to become universal, that the substance, the spiritual content, of a work of art in instrumental music is objectless, that music—unlike other arts which take the idea of their creation from nature and from life—to a certain extent, is a ‘purely spiritual world devoid of all matter’, all by itself, separated from all earthly and worldly objects, independent of the copying or repetition of any idea connected with the beings of the world.53 He references Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven and their creation of instrumental works which were “bright revelations of the innermost being in music” and for the first time musical pictures of music were seen in the largest and significant forms, “free and unimpeded” by conventional rigid fetters of libretto and other texts.54 With these works, music was no longer a “companion”

51 Ibid. To him every piece offers details that create a sensation and the material of musical substance is represented by this sensation. He furthers that these details act upon the non-musical auditor, rouse him, create unmusical picture or representations, causing his imagination to wander (anything but musical), “far away from the real musical substance of the composition and he believes to have had a musically deep and true sensation, if he imagined something in connection with the music.” (How dare the non-musical auditor!?) 52 Ibid. 53 Ibid. Within this quote he is quoting Schopenhauer. 54 Ibid., 205. 114

but now a “sole,” “independent ruler,” “in its full majesty.”55 He further explains that instrumental music of this sort, though many were looking for the “poetic subject of music,” was not in need of such an explanation and that music would “depreciate” if given such an explanation.56 So it is this “inconceivable” and “unutterable” in music itself, which words in language cannot describe, that leads to difficulty in trying to explain a piece of music. The implication here is that the better proper musical training in the vocabulary of form and substance one gets, the closer to the meaning of music one arrives. Ultimately, Jadassohn comes to the conclusion that form is substance and substance is form, and the two go together. 57

Jadassohn’s position on absolute music is very close to that of Eduard Hanslick and by extension, Brahms and the other members of his group. Jadassohn’s conclusion, for example, is definitely influenced by, if not borrowed from, Hanslick’s statement in 1854 that “In music this distinction between form and content does not exist because music has no form apart from its content.”58 Jadassohn and Hanslick also shared the opinion that the idea or subject (content) in music could only be purely musical and though “there is a sense and coherence in music […] it is musical sense and musical coherence.”59 Bringing aspects of Jadassohn’s theoretical ideas to light helps us understand better his views on musical aesthetics in the context of his time, and on the style that he was clearly aiming to achieve in both his compositional work and as a respected pedagogue as well.

55 Ibid. 56 Ibid. He discusses more in depth his opinion of Arthur Schopenhauer, whom he refers to as “the great philosopher,” first to express similar views, in his World as Will and Idea (1818) with chapter 39 “Metaphysics of Music,” and whose labors went unnoticed for some time, until Moritz Lazarus with Life of the Soul (1855-57) and Eduard Hanslick with On the musical Beautiful (1854), came to similar results in their works. 57 Ibid,. 208-210. 58 Bojan Buji , ed., Music in European thought, 1851-1912 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 36. Excerpts from Hanslick’s On the Beautiful in Music, 203-221. 59 Ibid. Hanslick concludes, “Music is a language that we can speak and understand but unable to translate.” 115

Jewish Issues

How did Jadassohn’s Jewish affiliations affect his professional career? As has been outlined earlier, assimilation was a basic prerequisite for integration of the Jewish population into society during that time and Jadassohn had this same goal. For example, he joined numerous musical societies, whose membership lent to social prestige, some of which included: Arion

(men’s choral society), Cäcilienvereins (Choral society), and Euterpe (the same music society

Brüll had attempted to connect with in his quest for success in Leipzig).60 Jadassohn was actually the conductor for the Euterpe chamber music society from 1867 to 1871. In relation to

Jadassohn’s appointment with Euterpe, Hiltner refers to Jadassohn’s “nervous temperament” as described by Alfred Richter in 1910, which made him a less than ideal candidate; yet he managed to get the position anyway and proved to be a success. The Neue Zeitschrift für Musik commented on his new position, predicting more “precision and purity” to come from the group under his direction.61 The fact that Hiltner makes reference to a contemporary of Jadassohn’s commenting on his nervous behaviour is worth mentioning only because it does have connections with the earlier discussion on the vocabulary surrounding Jewish stereotypes. This is, however, an isolated comment and considering that the source for this expression is a 1910 commentary on Leipzig’s musical life – more of a narrative, recalling memories and experiences, highlighting different personalities – it does not reflect the general reception of his works or his reputation as a pedagogue, which did not mention his Jewish background or other Jewish characteristics.62 The fact that he was acknowledged positively during this experience furthered

60 Hiltner, Salomon Jadassohn: Komponist, Musiktheoretiker, Pianist, Pädagogue, 46 and 93-6. Other members of Arion Choral Society included: Reinecke, Wilhelm Tirsch and Julius Rietz. 61 NZfM 63 (1867): 416. 62 Hiltner refers to a manuscript by Alfred Richter titled “Aus Leipzigs musikgeschichtlicher Glanzzeit,” which was not published until recently. See, Doris Mundis, ed., Aus Leipzigs musikgeschichtlicher Glanzzeit (Leipzig: Lehmstedt Verlag, 2004). 116

his assimilation into the surrounding culture. Hiltner points out that Jews in general were better tolerated within salon culture, and so it is likely that Jadassohn wrote music appropriate for such occasions.63 She further explains that salon music during this time was very much attached to the middle-class way of life and so he wrote music for those among whom he wanted so badly to be absorbed.64

Despite his aims for assimilation, Jadassohn, unlike Brüll, sustained an active and open involvement in activities related to Judaism. In 1855 he conducted a concert for the Jewish

Synagogue Choir (Psalterion) and ten years later he received direction of that same choir where he then dedicated himself to choral arrangements for highly religious services.65 For 30 years he was responsible for this choir on a voluntary basis which acquired him a respectable position in the Jewish community. According to Hiltner, his goal was to create a new expression in music for the Jewish religion.66 Important Jewish musical works that are worth brief discussion are as follows. The first, entitled Vergebung (Forgiveness), was premiered at a rare choral concert at the Gewandhaus on December 13th 1877 along with works of Brahms and Schumann.67 This work was advertised and reviewed in the Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung on April 9th 1879, described as a “respectable and grateful choir work in cantata form” which “encounters the tone of the poem” and was “written fluently.”68 Another was his Kol Nidrei, published in 1894, the same year when he is mentioned as being absent from the musical scene in Leipzig.69 This particular setting of Kol Nidrei is actually a textless piano piece; and the reasons behind this are

63 Hiltner, Salomon Jadassohn ,53. She suggests that Jadassohn saw the market for Salon music and decided to compose music in this manner, perhaps for guaranteed success? 64 Ibid., 47. 65 Ibid., 55. Interestingly, due to the lack of a newer generation of Jewish instrumentalists and singers, he had to get them (non-Jews?) on loan; however his endeavors were to eventually form a purely Jewish choir. 66 Ibid. 67 Ibid., 96. This work received a split reception according to Hiltner as it was criticized for the sweet sentimental subjects, themes and motives which were said to hardly correspond to the text. 68 AMZ 15 (Apr. 9 1879): 236. 69 Hiltner, Salomon Jadassohn: Komponist, Musiktheoretiker, Pianist, Pädagogue, 141. 117

unclear. An eleven-measure introduction section labelled Adagio is followed by the Kol Nidrei melody (“Kol Nidrei” appears above m. 12). Though the melody is generally varied from one setting of Kol Nidrei to the next, there is still a similar shape to the melody that is present in

Jadassohn’s and in the two examples discussed in Chapter Two (See Ex. 4.9 and compare with

Ex.2.1.2 and 2.1.3). Under the title on the cover page of this work is the description “after old

Hebrew melodies” and so it would appear that this particular setting is potentially using materials that for Jadassohn were connected to the Jewish tradition. The piece employs sections of unison, chordal homophony, but also some ornamentation, and moves through the related keys of gm-

GM-DM-EbM-gm-GM. Each new section is labelled with the Jewish words from the Kol Nidrei prayer: oschamnu (m. 68), michomo (m. 90), omnom keen (m. 106). The distinct melody, seen in measure 12, is present throughout the work and is varied each time it is repeated. The piece is ultimately a combination of classical art-music techniques (e.g. variations, typical V-I modulations) with traditional Jewish melodies and is unique in that there is no text attached.

Jadassohn was essentially straddling two communities with his musical activities, one he belonged to in a religious and ethnic sense, and the other to which he wanted to belong to and get acceptance from. Based on the definition given in chapter two, Jadassohn was “acculturated,” as he did not clearly disappear into the new culture.

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Ex. 4.4.1 Jadassohn’s Kol Nidrei – Opening Introduction and Kol Nidrei Melody (mm.1- 21)

Conclusions

Unlike Brüll, Jadassohn was more connected and actively involved with the Jewish community in Leipzig, which potentially means that he would have been more commonly recognized or identified as Jewish than Brüll. In other words, it does not appear that Jadassohn was in any way attempting to suppress his origins. Like Brüll he maintained conservative tendencies in not only his compositional work but also as a pedagogue and theoretician. That being said, his stint in Weimar at an early age clearly influenced him in some ways with regard

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to his composition, as shown above, and he appears to have been slightly more adventurous (note

Liszt’s influence, for example), despite his leanings toward the absolute music school evident in his musical treatises. As Hiltner has suggested, it is possible then that he was more recognized, and thus more successful, as a pedagogue and theoretician than he was as a composer, despite his own identification as a composer above all else.70 With the exception of his arrangements for the

Synagogue, he was composing in the German tradition just as Brüll was, and most of his works do not fall under the genres outlined earlier as Jewish music. He was well assimilated and though he may have been more actively recognized as a Jew in Leipzig, the reviews available to us do not reflect criticisms in connection with his Jewish origins. If anything, he had a similar reception to Brüll and any negative comments stemmed from his conservative leanings and the adamant refusal to change despite the new compositional trends emerging at the end of the century. Lastly, unlike Brüll, Jadassohn’s success was contained on a more localized level and one contributing factor could be that he did not have a close group of supportive and influential figures in society which would have affected not only the promotion of his works by those members on a local basis, but would have also provided less opportunities for performance outside of Leipzig. Or in other words, he may not have had other influential supporters willing to vouch for performances of his works outside of Leipzig.

70 Hiltner, Salomon Jadassohn: Komponist, Musiktheoretiker, Pianist, Pädagogue, 125. 120

Chapter Five: Conclusions

Considering the unstable position of the Jews and the paradoxical nature of Jewish assimilation, the individual experiences of Ignaz Brüll and Salomon Jadassohn highlight the varied reality of their situation as Jews in nineteenth-century Europe. The political, social, and cultural context outlined in Chapters One and Two implicitly impacted the ways in which they, as Jews, tried to achieve acceptance both socially and professionally, and, therefore, their professional achievements have been examined with this complicated backdrop in mind. Both composers managed to obtain careers within the musical culture in the arenas of composition, performance, and in Jadassohn’s case, pedagogy and scholarship. Their Jewish origins might have contributed to their education and development of their careers in one way or another, but, as we have seen, the negativity normally associated with such origins played less of a role in the way they were evaluated and received. Rather, from this investigation, we can conclude that their conservative leanings may have hindered their ability to achieve more recognition, and that, compared to other Jewish composers during this period, at least on the surface, Brüll and

Jadassohn did not receive the prototypical anti-Semitic treatment. The ways in which these two individuals constructed their identities, and thus found a place in society, contradicts essentialist narratives concerning Jewish composers or musicians during this time (based on the better documented cases), which commonly assume that composers with Jewish origins were treated in a negative way because they were Jewish. Each individual case is different, as has been shown with Brüll and Jadassohn, and it is important, if not crucial, to realize that the ways in which each Jewish composer was affected during this period were varied and cannot be generalized.

A new and acute focus in the late nineteenth century on ethnic origins saw a tendency to identify a musical work according to its ethnicity (regardless of the agenda of those making such

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designations). In particular, if a work was labelled as “Jewish,” either because it “sounded”

Jewish or because the composer was Jewish, it was commonly seen as a negative contribution to the surrounding German culture and resulting in the corruption of that culture. This is possibly why, as we have seen, these Jewish composers did not write music that could be identified as

“Jewish” from the way it sounded or in which it was constructed (with the exception of

Jadassohn’s Kol Nidre). The Jewish composers who wanted to make a professional career as assimilated Jews, purposely or not, did not promote what would have been conceived as Jewish

“genres” or music with Jewish influences. Thus in the cases of our composers (and others like them), the possible attribution of Jewishness, or Jewish characteristics, was disconnected from the actual music and more connected to the critics’ opinions, based in turn on their knowledge of the composers’ ethnic or religious origins.

In the case of Brüll and Jadassohn, however, we find that critics’ opinions about their compositional work and performance abilities seemed not to have been (at least openly) related to the composers’ ethnic origins, which were either unknown or suppressed. Thus the critics’ judgements of their works were based on the aesthetic standards that were current at the time and reflected the ever-changing view of the social function of music.1 In other words, and similarly for any criticism, the critic’s role as “art judge” was adaptable to what opinion he wanted to project that would have best corresponded to the expectations and education of the public.2 In these two particular cases, since neither composer was actively composing music that could be defined or characterized as Jewish, critics generally found fault in these composers’

1 Wecker, Der Epigone, Ignaz Brüll: Ein Judischer Komponist Im Wiener Brahms-Kreis, 181. Within his Chapter 5, on the concert tours from 1866-1882, is a subsection entitled, “Digression: Meaning of Music Criticism.” There Wecker examines the historical background of musical criticism and the role of the critic in order to highlight their contribution to the musical reception of a work and to essentially point out the power that he critic had over the acceptance of a musician into society. 2 Ibid. Wecker also notes Jürgen Habermas’s opinions on the beginning of modern criticism and his designation of the critic’s dual role as the “art judge” in which he speaks for and educates the audience simultaneously.

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anachronistic use of classical models. Criticizing the use of these models would have perhaps been socially preferable to focusing on their (known or unknown) Jewish origins. That the critics did not invoke Jewish ethnicity in their criticism is even more astonishing in the case of

Jadassohn, who did work with the synagogue, set musically the well-known Jewish prayer Kol

Nidrei, and was involved with the Jewish community in Leipzig, thus publically acknowledging his Jewishness. In light of this, it does seem that in Leipzig, at the time, the standards of criticism were so professional that an invocation of ethnic origins would have weakened the review, whereas discussions of stylistic features were socially more acceptable. The fact is that one does not see traces of anti-Semitism in critics’ reception. It is entirely possible that for both composers there might have been hidden denigration of their work behind the curtains or some type of hypocrisy was at play, which we cannot sense today. Perhaps the documentation to support this idea has not been found or no longer exists because of their relative neglect. Unfortunately, until such evidence comes to light (and this may never happen) we can only speculate.

Based on these two individual cases, Botstein may have a good point when he states that

“despite the undeniable ubiquity of anti-Semitism in European history, particularly during the past three hundred years, the views of anti-Semites did not necessarily overlap with or impede efforts among Jews to differentiate and self-define themselves.”3 This is not to say that the prevalence of anti-Semitism and the previously discussed tensions in these environments would not have affected the construction of their own identity and contributed to their responses. It is possible, however, that they both may have belonged to a hybrid category of Jews in society described by Botstein as those “who sought to construct identities in the post Emancipation period [and] may have assimilated, so to speak, into something new, and in that process helped

3 Botstein, “The Jewish Question in Music,” 442. He further states that “the variety of Jewish life in Europe either has been ignored, distorted, and devalued in favor of a belief that being a Jew was always subject to an involuntary reality that demanded some dynamic internalization that trumped all efforts to escape that reality.” 123

define a reality collaboratively with other social forces.”4 In other words, even though Brüll and

Jadassohn were both essentially well assimilated or acculturated into their respective societies, they did not belong to the same category as other assimilated composers such as Mahler or

Zemlinsky (or other Jewish composers) who frequently received direct anti-Semitic attacks on their compositional works and musical careers (based solely on their Jewish origins), despite their overall assimilation. The existence of categories or the drawing of any real boundaries between different groups of Jews is problematic in itself, as the whole discourse on Jewish composers during this period has been generalized in such a way that even the situation of better known figures, including those mentioned in this study, likely had more varied experiences than we realize. There just happens to be more evidence which allows for generalist assumptions to be made and for those with similar experiences to be put into one box, so to speak, which is not the case in the situation of Brüll and Jadassohn.

Brüll, on the one hand, was well established in the Viennese music culture, as both a performer and composer. Based on the reviews and other correspondence we do have, it would appear that he may have actually been more successful as a performer than as a composer, despite his large output of musical compositions. He achieved some success on an international level as well, which was in a large part due to his skills as a pianist and as an interpreter of the

German masters. The idea that he may have somehow suppressed his origins in order to achieve this success is intriguing; however, there is no concrete evidence that has been found as of yet to support this theory. Considering the appearance of a general lack of knowledge (by the critics) that he was a Jew (or the lack of focus on his origins) during this period is especially curious, since there were other members of the Brahms circle who were more publicly known as Jews than he was – Goldmark, for instance. Why Brüll was never singled out in the way that

4 Ibid., 448. More importantly “they did not disappear into any stable existing category (center or majority).” 124

Goldmark was, especially within the group, remains a mystery. The support of this close-knit social group was likely one of the key factors to Brüll’s acceptance in that society and probably contributed to the reasons why some of his compositions and his performance skills were showcased as frequently as they were. Yet at the same time, one could speculate that his association with such a group and close proximity to Brahms himself may have actually overshadowed Brüll’s position as well. More than likely though, it was his conservative stance in regards to compositional style that may have impeded the possibility of more popularity or recognition in Vienna or elsewhere at the end of the nineteenth century. The reasons behind this conservatism can only be speculated at this point. It may have been a personal choice based on his respect for and allegiance to classical ideals, or perhaps he felt that this was the best way to assimilate properly into the Viennese society, given the fact that certain more experimental compositional techniques found in the works of Mahler for example (e.g. juxtaposition of various unrelated materials) were immediately designated as “Jewish” characteristics thanks to the critics focus on ethnic origins and the transference of Jewish characteristics into musical ones during this period. We must, however, remember Brüll’s background and the fact that his family was already well assimilated before they settled in Vienna, and that he grew up in a middle-class environment that included a rather rich musical exposure. So it is not as though he was attempting to assimilate further but rather continue the same degree of assimilation which was likely second nature to him that late in his life. His loyalty to classical ideals was clearly engrained in him early in his life and there may be no other explanation for his choice to continue with that loyalty until his death.

Jadassohn, on the other hand, was well established in the Leipzig music culture but in a different way than Brüll was in Vienna. Besides his activities as a composer and pianist (and not

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likely to the same degree of skill as Brüll) he was also a notable pedagogue and theoretician, and appears to have had more success or was at least more recognized as such. Also, his success and reputation was clearly on a more local level than Brüll’s due to his lack of international exposure, which is evident in the majority of reviews which come from Leipzig. Another contributing factor to his position in this society was the lack of a close-knit social group of supporters that would have aided in the promotion of his works in Leipzig and abroad. He certainly ran in the same circles as other respectable musicians in Leipzig, especially considering his position at the Conservatory. However, there is very little in documentation that would suggest a group of close supporters like Brüll had in Vienna. Jadassohn may have had to work even harder to have to his works performed. Also, by financial necessity or by choice, Jadassohn may have devoted more of his life to teaching, whereas Brüll might have been a better pianist and this is why he was able to afford to live off concert tours. Jadassohn was also much more connected with the Jewish community, evident in his involvement with the synagogue in

Leipzig, and though he appears to have been well assimilated, it is less likely that he was attempting to hide his origins in any obvious way. Like Brüll, his works reflect an adherence to classical forms and models, despite his noted interest in the works of Liszt and Wagner. The reasons behind his conservative compositional style are just as speculative as in the case of Brüll.

Perhaps it was his personal choice based on his classical musical training which he continued to emphasize in his pedagogical work and in the multiple musical treatises that deal with the importance of form and classical principles of orchestration. Perhaps a lack of ability or lack of experimental desire related to the fact that he was not interested in new compositional trends at the end of the century was another reason he chose to stick with the classical conservatism. Any

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of these reasons may have hindered the possibility of further success during his life time and the perpetuation of his works after his death.

These are just two examples of lesser known composers who may not have had the level of success or the exposure as composers like Mahler or Meyerbeer, for example, but still managed to contribute to their respective societies in a variety of meaningful ways. As a result each held a respectable position in these cultural scenes. A focus on other lesser known composers would prove very useful in clarifying further the position of Jewish composers during this period and would likely shed more light on the variety of their situations which, until recently, have commonly been grouped together as one general experience that is colored with anti-Semitic tension and rejection.

Finally, after the relatively small but successful careers that Brüll and Jadassohn had, they both fell into oblivion, until recently when they have been given some attention. This neglect is evident in the small number of scholarly sources on either of them, and the lack of recordings available of their works (See full list of recordings in Appendix III). The few written available sources, by German scholars, have been mentioned earlier in this study. Only a few recordings currently exist for either composer and in searching for them, as part of the research process for this study, an interesting coincidence presented itself. As it turns out, recent recordings of these two composers appear on the same CD compilation, Music of 19th Century

Jewish German Composers Vol. 1, which includes Jadassohn’s Piano Concerto No.1, Symphony

No.1 and Brüll’s Serenade No.1 Op.29, Overture Macbeth Op.46, and Violin Concerto in A minor. Why these two specific composers were showcased together is a curious development.

According to the liner notes, the recordings were put together in preparation for the Cameo

Classics documentary “Out of the Darkness” on the neglected music of Jewish German

127

composers of the 19th century. This documentary includes Brüll and Jadassohn’s compositions among other Jewish composers that had works suppressed during the ban of Jewish music in the

Nazi period.5 The banning of their works during the Nazi period certainly contributed to the lack of interest in their works, and this is one important way in which the extreme anti-Semitism of the early 20th century influenced the perpetuation (or lack thereof) of their works. As important as the revival of relatively unknown composers in general, and of Jewish composers in particular might be, as part of the necessary ideological and political rehabilitation of neglected composers, this study underlines the difficulty of establishing the right balance between the aesthetic value and contributions of these musicians’ works and the reasons for their neglect.

This thesis has attempted to show two unique Jewish experiences that highlight the discrepancies in the generalist views on the subject and revise the ways in which we discuss Jews in music and their cultural contributions. Further studies are still needed and more individual cases need examination in order to add more texture to the musical discourse on Jewish composers and their varied positions in the societies in which they lived. It is through the sum of these individual cases that we will gain a better understanding of the general manifestations of racial tensions in society and better clarify the complex experiences of Jewish composers during the 19th century.

This study is part of a larger, recent revival of interest in neglected Jewish composers from the late nineteenth century through the Holocaust period. The motivations behind this new revival are varied, but have some common roots. First of all, we can point to a “guilty conscience” of a younger generation for crimes they did not commit, as suggested by Jascha

5 Cameo Classics CD, Music of 19th Century Jewish German Composers Vol.1, performed by Karella Philharmonic Orchestra, Marius Stravinsky (musical director), Denis Vlasenko (conductor), Valentina Seferinova (soloist). Features: Jadassohn Piano Concerto No.1, Symphony No.1 and Brüll’s Serenade No.1 Op.29, Overture Macbeth Op.46, Violin Concerto in A minor Op.41. 128

Nemtsov and Beate Schröder-Nauenburg in their study of the Terezin [Theresienstadt] camp composers.6 This renewed interest started in Germany in the last decades of the 20th century and included the founding of archives at the Music Academy in Stuttgart and at the Center of

Contemporary Music in Dresden which contain scores, records, and literature about various

Jewish composers. These materials have become the basis for concert programs, festivals, and

CD recordings, as well as research projects about particular composers with the results published in a series “Verdrängte Musik” [Repressed Music] by von Bockel in Hamburg.7 In Berlin the association “Musica Reanimata” was also founded for the rediscovery of works by persecuted composers. In Hamburg, Freiburg, and Dresden research activities were established for

“ostracized” music and music in the Holocaust and this interest has since spread into North

American scholarly work.8 Part of the studies on Holocaust music include discussions on the roles of music in the concentration camps, which ran the gamut and included both negative and positive aspects;9 on the variety of music present in the camps (e.g. orchestras, choirs, community sing-song, other compositional works as well); and on specific composers and the

6 Jascha Nemtsov and Beate Schröder-Nauenburg, “Music in the Inferno of the Nazi Terror: Jewish Composers in the ‘Third Reich’” in Shofar 18/4 (Summer, 2000): 97. “The German post-war generation, burdened with a sense of guilt for crimes they did not commit, shows a particular interest in the investigation and revival of the exterminated Jewish culture.” Also, “For about ten years now several musicologists in Germany have been increasingly interested in Jewish composers condemned and persecuted by the Nazis, who – with few exceptions – in contrast to writers and painters were still largely forgotten half a century after the Nazi dictatorship.” Composers focused on in this study include: Gideon Klein (1919-1945), Viktor Ullmann (1898-1944), Hans Krása (1899-1944), Pavel Haas (1899-1944), and Sigmund Schul (1916-1944). 7 Ibid. 8 Ibid. The music publishers Schott (Mainz) and Bote & Bock (Berlin) printed complete editions of the composers from Terezin. 9 See Shirli Gilbert, Music in the Holocaust: Confronting Life in the Nazi Ghettos and Camps (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005); Guido Fackler, “Music in the Concentration Camps 1933-1945” in Music & Politics 1/1, trans. Peter Logan (Winter, 2007), online article accessible at http://www.music.ucsb.edu/projects/musicandpolitics/archive/2007-1/fackler.html. The roles of music as discussed in Gilbert and Fackler varied and included: punishment, exertion of power, organization, mental and physical abuse, humiliation, denigration and torment. Orchestras were set up for a variety reasons including entertainment for the SS, but also to create a false image of the camps and the goings on there, to confuse the victims, and often accompanied executions in order to mask the sounds of death. Music also provided comfort or consolation for the prisoners and was considered an outlet to articulate their feelings and experiences, as well as providing a diversion of their current situation and reminding them of their previous lives before they entered the camp. 129

effects of captivity on their work—all of which bring to light the need to construct a multi- layered portrait of Jewish life and experience in connection with music.10 In many cases this renewed interest is connected with the memorialisation of the Holocaust, which was indeed likely an initial stage of the revival. Over time this revival has brought to light the importance of individual experience and the need for revision of Jewish music history in general, with a focus on individual cases as shown in this study.11

The surge in recent years of studies that have called into question essentialist explanations of Jewish history have allowed for new perspectives. These new perspectives are discussed by Philip Bohlman, for example, who writes that this “new Jewish historiography admits to the possibility of multiple modernities and multiple historical narratives.”12 The problem of attempting to construct a Jewish music ontology is that it “ineffably resists unity.”13

So the importance of further individual case studies becomes even more relevant as they not only highlight the multiple historical narratives surrounding Jewish music, and by extension the complexities in defining Jewish music, but also encourage more nuanced explorations of how

Jewish composers and their works are discussed in connection with historical and political factors. These efforts ultimately attempt to answer the poignant question, as posed by Gilman,

“Can Jews make music in a Western context? And what happens when they do?”14

10Ibid. 11 Nemtsov and Schröder-Nauenburg, “Music in the Inferno,” 97. 12 Philip Bohlman ed., Musical Modernism Old and New (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008), 170. As Bohlman states, “the essays in the present book open up new possibilities for an intensified rethinking of the relation of music to modern Jewish history, and in the so doing they offer additional perspectives on the debates in the new Jewish historiography.” The authors featured in this work include: Mitchell G. Ash, Edwin Seroussi, Pamela M. Potter, Kay Kaufman Shelemay, Michael P. Steinberg, and a Foreward by Sander L. Gilman. 13 Ibid., 170-71. “At the beginning of the twenty-first century we continue to seek an ontological unity that seems to explain all Jewish musics, in other words some metaphysics of Jewish music as a whole, but perhaps it is the inexpressibility of such an ontology that determines what its musical and extra-musical dimensions really are.” 14Gilman, “Foreward: Are Jews Musical? Historical Notes on the Question of Jewish Musical Modernism,” in Jewish Musical Modernism, Old and New, edited by Philip Bohlman (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2008), xiv. Gilman’s full quote: “Here the battle lines were set: The twentieth-century musical experience, as articulated by 130

Jewish (however defined) composers and performers, was profoundly shaped by their quiet awareness of the real question: Can Jews make music in a Western context? And what happens when they do?” 131

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Websites: http://globaledge.msu.edu/countries/germany/history/. http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/directory/B/3729?page=2. http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/judaica/ejud_0002_0004_0_03508.html.

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Appendix I – List of Brüll’s Complete Works

Op. 1 – Drei Lieder Op. 12 Vier Lieder Traüm ich oder wach ich, Sehnsucht Abendlied Gewitternahen Nachtreise Ein Auftamen Op. 2 – Drei Lieder O SüBe Mutter Lebewohl Op. 13 Drei Klavierstücke Nächtlichte Schlummerlied Das Ständchen Sartarella Op. 3Drei Klavierstücke Romance Orientalisches Klagelied, Op. 14 Trio für Violine, Cello, und Klavier Ritt durch die Wüste Eb-Dur Orientalisches Totenklage Op. 15 Vier Lieder Op. 4 --- H.I,1 Die Alte Weide Op. 5 Heft I Sechs Gesänge nach Dichtungen 2 Meiner Mutter ihr Spinnrad von H. Heine H.II,1Schlummerlied H.I,1Es schauen die Blumen alle H.II 2 Christbaum H.I,2 Wenn ich auf dem Lager liege Op. 16 Zwei Männerchören H.I,3Jedweder Geselle sein Mädel am Arm Husarenlied H.I,4 Sie liebten sich beide, Im Holz H.I,5 Ich wollt' meine Schmerzen ergössen Op. 17 Improvisata e Fuga für Klavier sich, Op. 18 Sechs schottische Lieder nach texten H.I,6Manch' Bild vergess'ner Zeiten Robert Burns Heft II Drei Gesänge Nanny, meine Rose H.II,1Das verlassene Mägdlein, Wie lang und traurig ist die nacht HII,2 Ligurisches Volkslied, Peggy H.II,3WaldeinsamkeitAm Polly Stewart Heft III Drei Gesänge Jessie H.III,1Traunsee Es war ‘ne Man H.III,2 Der schwere Abend, Op. 19 Sechs Lieder H.III,3Trauer H.I,1 Mein Eigen soll sie sein Op. 6 Tarantella für Klavierstück H.I,2 Abschied Op. 7 Zwei Klavierstücke H.I,3 GruB Impromptu H.I,4 Liedschen der Sehnsucht, Humoreske H.II,1An die Strene Op. 8 Sieben Phantasiestücke für Klavier H.II,2 An einenSchmetterling, Op. 9 Sonata für Klavier und Cello Op. 20 Zwei Scherzi für Klavier Op. 10 Konzert für Klavier und Orchester F- Scherzo c-moll Dur Scherzo f#-moll Op. 11 Drei Klavierstücke Op. 21 Sonata für zwei Klavier Romance Op. 22 Zyklus Toskanischer Lieder Impromptu Op. 23 SüBes Begräbnis Mazurka Op. 24 2 Konzert für Klavier und Orchester C- dur

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Op. 25 Im Walde Overture für Orchester Op. 42 Suite für Klavier und Violine Op. 26 Zwei Chören Op. 43 Vier Lieder Op. 27 Das Goldenen Kreuz, Das zerbrochene Ringlein Op. 28 Drei Klavierstücke Zigeunerlager Impromptu Ständchen Romance Hoheslied Etude Op. 44 Zwei Klavierstücke Op. 29 Serenade für Orchester (no.1) Walse Impromptu Op. 30 Der Landfriede Kleine Studie Op. 31 Symphonie e-dur, Op. 45 Thema und Variation Bretonische Op. 32 Drei Lieder Melodien Niedlich Schätzchen, Sehnsuchet Melodie Er war in Mai Ballade Gerstennähren Op. 46 Macbeth Overture für Orchester Op. 33 Sieben Alblumblätter für die Jugend Op. 47 Zwei Klavierstücke Klage Gavotte Frühlingslied Phantasiestücke Armer Savoyorden Knabe Op. 48 Sonata für Violine (No. 1) Im Dorfe Op. 49 Drei Lieder nach Burns Menuett Niedlich Schätzchen Menuett Die holde Peg Glück Wunsch Mein treues Lieb Nancy Op. 34 Drei Klavierstücke Op. 50 Zwei Klavierstücke Mazurka Waltz Barcarole Octaven etude Capriccio Op. 51 Drei Klavierstücke Op. 35 Zwei Klavierstücke Berceuse Thema undVariation Capriccio Mazurka Scherzo-etude Op. 36 Serenade für Orchester E-Dur (no.2) Op. 52 Vier Lieder Op. 37 Drei Klaviestücke Mein Stren Impromptu Das Meeresleuchten Idylle Die Pappeln Paysage Die Verlassene Op. 38 Sechs Klavierstücke Op. 53 Drei Klavierstücke Romance Valse-Caprice Caprice Melodie Etude Gavotte Impromptu Op. 54 Tanzsuite aus der Balletmusik: Ein Mazurka Maerchen aus der Champagne for Orchestra Bolero Grande Valse Op. 39 Thema und Variation Tarantelle Op. 40 Königin Mariette Menuet Op. 41 Konzert für Violine a-moll La Vendange

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Op. 54A Champagner-Märchen, Op. 54A Op. 68 Vier Lieder Op. 55 Das Steinerne Herz Vergessen Op. 56 Sieben Lieder Willst du mein sein Die Blinde Mutter Gute Nacht Wiegenlied Lied der Spinnerin Menie Op. 69 Drei Klavierstücke Um Mitternacht Mazurka c-moll Wo? Mazurka f-moll Einmal Noch Ländler Lied Op. 70 Schach dem Köning Op. 57 Fünf Klavierstücke Op. 71 Suite für Klavier (No.2) Herbstabend Präludium Tarantelle Scherzo Etüde Quasi Variazoni Romance Rondo (in alter weize) Scherzo-Impromptu Op. 72 Bunte Blätter für Pianoforte Op. 58 Suite für Klavier (No.1) Lied Präludium Mazurka Scherzo Marsch Theme with Variations Schlummerlied Gavotte Scherzo Op. 59 Zwei Männerchören Im Walde Op. 60 Violin Sonata #2 In der Mühle Op. 61 9 Etudes Op. 73 Sonata für Klavier d-moll Op. 62 Fünf Lieder Op. 74 Drei duette Wenn still mit seinen letzten Flammen WeiBt du Noch? Du fragst mich In Dunkler Nacht Ländliches Frühlingslied Täglicht, wenn der Abend naht Gondoliera Op. 75 Drei duette Liebesglück Durch das Abendliche Dunkel Op. 63 Fünf Lieder Kleine Welt Antwort Auf einsamen Wegen Abendlied Op. 76 Suite für Klavier (No.3) Phillis, mein Kind Präludium Herab von den Bergen Capricio Vom Mummelsee Legende Op. 64 Duo für zwei Klaviere Sarabande Thema mit Variationen Ballade Andante pastorale Aria and Scherzo In arabischeWeise Op. 77 Vier irischer Lieder Op. 65 Rhapsody für Klavier und Orchester So Oft Ich Deine Sah Op. 66 Gringoire O Glaube, Wenn Von Deiner Huldgestalt Op. 67 Serenade für Orchestra (no.3) Der Augenstern Die Harfe, die für dich erklungen

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Op. 78 Vier Lieder Op. 91 Waltzer für Frauenchor mit Orchester Mädchens Abendgedanken Op. 92 Drei Lieder Ger nam Kühlen Waldessaum Nachtlied O Gib die Seele mir zurüch Auf dem Maskenball Am WeBdorn Wiegenlied für meinen Jungen Op. 79 Der Husar Op. 93 Drei Klavierstücke Op. 80 Suite für Klavier (no.4) Berceuse Präludium Impromptu Menuett Reigen Cavatine Op. 94 Zwei Klavierstücke Scherzo Gondoliera Finale Mache à la Japonaise Op. 81 Sonata für Violine (no.3) Op. 95 Vier Lieder Op. 82 Fünf Tiroler Lieder Die Tänzenrin Vom Wald bin i fura Hochzeitlied Wann i Geh Elisabeth (Meine Mutter hat’s gewollt) s’ launische Dirndl Blaublümelein Mei Dirndl is Sauba Op. 96 Drei Klavierstücke Der Abschied Barcarolle and Tarantelle Op. 83 Vier Klavierstücke Liebliche Landschaft Nocturne Gnomenmärchen Ophelia Op. 97 Sonata für Violin (no.4) Barcarolle Op. 98 Overture Pathétique für Orchester Capriccio Op. 99 Drei intermezzi für Orchester Op. 84 Ballade für Klavier Scherzo Op. 85 Drei Lieder für Baritone Kavatine Der Steinhauer Marche fantastique Sechse, sieben oder Acht Op. 100 Drei Lieder Thrinklied Beim Feste Op. 86 Vier Lieder Ich Glaub’ Dein Augen Letze Worte Notturno Op. 101 Drei Klavierstücke Mein Odem möchte sich ein Plätzchen Menuett Du wirfst die Angel Gavotte Op. 87 Zwei Lieder Novellette Die Spröde Op. 102 Zwei Könige, Lied Die Bekehrte Works Without Opus Number Op. 88 Allegro & Andante für Klavier und Drei Männerchören Orchester Frauenchöre In slavischer Weise Wir sind die Weihnachtsengel Op. 89 Zwei Klavierstücke Berceuse Op. 90 Spansiche Szenen für Violine und Spanischer Tanz Klavier Der Ritter am Rhein Mazurka for Violin and Piano Nachtwandler Tarantelle for Violin and Piano Der Herr der Berg, Die Bettler von Samarkand, Espagnole for Violin and Piano and Gloria.

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Appendix II – List of Jadassohn’s Complete Works

Op.2 - 2 geistliche Gesänge, Solo Op.30 - 6 Mädchenlieder, Soprano and Voices and Chorus (1857) Piano (1866) Neige, o Herr, dein Ohr Volkslied Herr, schau herab Bekenntnis Op.3 - 4 Salonstücke, Piano (1857) Antwort Op.4 - Allegro appassionato, Piano(1857) Süsses Erwarten Op.5 - Sonata for Violin and Piano in Dämmerstunde G minor (1857) Seligkeit Op.6 - 3 Lieder for Soprano or Tenor(1857) Op.31 - 4 Phantasiestücke, Piano (1863) Gute Nacht Op.32 - Album for Piano (1863) Ins Auge geblickt Widmung Winternacht Bitte Op.7 - Albumblatt, Piano (1862) Intermezzo Op.8 - Capriccio giocoso, Piano (1862) Canzonetta Op.9 - 3 Duets (Canons) for Soprano, Scherzino Tenor and Piano (1858) Reigen Traurige Wege Barcarol Der Schalk Op.33 - Knabenspiele Der schwere Abend (Charakterstück), Piano (1865) Op.10 - String Quartet in C minor (1858) Op.34 - 6 zweistimmige Gesänge, Op.11 - Praeludium und Fuge, Piano (1858) Soprano, Tenor and Piano (1866) Op.12 - 3 Morceaux caractéristiques, Neig' schöne Knospe Piano (1859) Mein Herz schmückt sich mit dir Op.13 - ? Mir ist nun ich dich habe Op.14 - Sonate facile et instructive,Piano Frage nicht (1859) Lockung Op.15 - Romance, Barcarolle und Hochauf fliegt mein Herz Impromptu, Piano (1859) Op.35 - Serenade (8 Canons for Piano) Op.16 - Piano Trio No.1 in F Major(1858) (1865) Op.17 - 8 leichte instructive Op.36 - 9 Lieder (Canons) for 2 High Kinderstücke, Piano (1867) Voices and Piano (1867) Op.23 - Studies for Piano (1861) Volkslied Op.24 - Symphony No.1 in C Major(1861) Die tausend Grüsse Op.25 - 3 Morceaux de salon, Piano(1861) Intermezzo Op.26 - Bal Masqué, 7 Airs de ballet, Piano Ich weiss, dass mich der Himmel liebt (1861) Gute Nacht Op.27 - Overture in C minor (1862) Treue Liebe Op.28 - Symphony No.2 in A Major (1865) Einklang Op.29 - Der 24. Psalm "Des Herren ist Gruss die Erde und was sie füllt", Solo Volkslied Voices, Chorus and Brass (1865) Op.37 - Concert-Ouverture [No.2] in D Major (1867)

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Op.38 (Kistner) - 6 Lieder (Canons) Böhmisches Wolkslied for 2 High Voices and Piano (1867) Mailied Kein Feuer, keine Kohle Op.53 - Arabesken, Piano (1878) Marienwürmchen Op.54 - Vergebung, Concertstück for Freundlich glänzt an stiller Quelle Soprano, Chorus and Orchestra (1877) Der Holdseligen Op.55 - Verheissung, Concertstück for Ueber allen Gipfeln ist Ruh Chorus and Orchestra (1879) Meine Mutter warnte immer Op.56 - 18 Preludes and Fugues for Piano Op.38 (Siegel) - Herr Gott dich (1879) preisen wir, Motet for Men's Voices (1874) Op.57 - Scherzo for Piano in F minor (1879) Op.39 - Albumblatt, Piano (1872) Op.58 - Ballettmusik in 7 Canons zur Op.40 - Variationen über ein eigenes Pantomime "Johannisnacht im Walde", Thema, Piano (1871) Orchestra (1897) (Arranged for piano Op.41 - Der 67. Psalm "Gott sei uns 4-hands without no.4) gnädig und segne uns", Motet for Mixed Op.59 - Piano Trio No.3 in C minor (1880) Voices (1871) Op.60 - Der 100. Psalm "Jauchzet dem Op.42 - Serenade in 4 Canons [Serenade Herrn", Alto, Chorus and Orchestra (ca. 1881) No.1], Orchestra (1872) Op.61 - An den Sturmwind, Men's Op.43 - Der 13. Psalm "Herr, Herr, wie Chorus and Orchestra (1881) lange willst du mein vergessen", Soprano, Op.62 - Valse caprice, Piano (1881) Alto and Organ/Piano (1875) Op.63 - Albumblätter, Piano (1881) Op.44 - Was betrübst du dich, meine Op.64 - Serenade über fünf Noten, Seele?, Motet for Chorus (1875) Piano 4-Hands (1882) Op.45 - Gott ist gross und allmächtig, Op.65 - Trostlied, nach Worten der Hymn for Men's Chorus and Brass (1876) heiligen Schrift, Chorus and Orchestra (1882) Op.46 - Serenade for Orchestra No.2 in D Op.66 - Minuet for Piano in G Major (1881) Major (1875) Op.67 - 6 Lieder for Chorus (1882) Op.47 - Serenade for Orchestra No.3 in A Es kommt ein wundersamer Knab major (1876) Haidenröslein Introduzione in tempo di marzia Die Gipfel gerglühen Cavatina ed Intermezzo Tanzlied Scherzo a capriccio Maieseinzug Finale Hell schmetternd ruft die Lerche Op.48 - Improvisationen, Piano, (1877) Op.68 - 3 Doppelkanons, Men's or Op.49 - 6 Klavierstücke (1877) Women's Voices (1880) Op.50 - Symphony No.3 in D minor (1876) Letzte Rose Op.51 - 3 Lieder for Men's Chorus (1877) Trüss ist mein Herze Child Harold "Ein starke, schwarze Barke" Dir, herr der Welt Allgemeines Wandern "Vom Grund" Op.69 - Cavatina for Violin and Zwei Mächte "Wein und schöne Mädchen" Orchestra in E Major (1882) Op.52 - 6 Volkslieder for High Voice (1877) Op.70 - Piano Quintet No.1 in C minor Einen Brief soll ich schreiben (1883) Gode Nacht Op.72 - 9 volkstümliche Lieder (1883) Der Müllerbursch Wär ich ein Vögelein Sommerlied Mein Herz thut mir gar zu weh Die linden Lüfte sind erwacht

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Laue Luft kommt blau geflossen Scherzend schöne lange Wochen Es rauschen die Wasser Der Sommer und der Sonnenschein Sah ein Knab ein Röslein stehn Op.82 - Chaconne for 2 Pianos (1886) Einen Brief soll ich schreiben (after Op.83 - 3 Pieces for Piano 4-Hands (1886) Op.52,,No.1) Op.84 - Herr, der du Alles Gode Nacht wohlgemacht, Motet for Chorus and Organ So viel Stern am Himmel stehen (1887) Op.73 - Serenade for Orchestra No.4 Op.85 - Piano Trio No.4 in C minor (1887) in F Major (1884) Op.86 - Piano Quartet No.2 in G Major (1887) Op.74 - 10 Kinderlieder, 2 Sopranos, Op.87 - Romance for Violin and Piano in B Alto and Piano (1883) minor (1887) Vögelein im grünen Wald Op.88 - Barcarolle for Piano (1887) Verrauscht ist das Getümmel Op.89 - Piano Concerto No.1 in C minor Pflücket ein Kränzchen (1887) Ein Morgenschimmer glüht Op.90 - Piano Concerto No.2 in F minor Hei, Winter, juchhe! (1888) Schon haucht so lind Op.91 - Zur Totenfeier, Motet for Chorus hätt ich so ein Stimmlein frisch (1888) Frühling, Frühling, himmlischer Mai Op.92 - Improvisationen, Piano, Heft III Hin geht die Zeit and IV (1887) Es sprang und rauschte der Wasserfall Op.93 - 6 Charakterstücke, Piano (1888) Op.75 - Improvisationen, Piano, Heft Mazurka II (1883 or 4) Canzonette Bolero Frühlichslied Ländler Siciliana Zwiegespräch Fliegendes Blatt Frühlingslied Nachtstück Bitte Op.94 - 4 Pieces for Piano (1888) Capriccio Op.95 - Phantasie for Organ (ca. 1888) Op.76 - Piano Quintet No.2 in F Major (1884) Op.96 - Der 43. Psalm "Richte mich, Op.77 - Piano Quartet No.1 in C minor (1884) Gott", Chorus (1888) Op.78 - 5 Gesänge (1886) Op.97 - Concertstück for Flute and Wunderbar ist mir geschehen Piano in G Major (1888) Ueber meines Liebchens Aeugeln Op.98 - 3 Piano Pieces Wie die Nachtigallen an den Rosen nippen Op.99 - Die leichtesten Stücke über Der Rose süsser Duft genügt die fünf Noten, Piano 4-Hands (1889) Die Weise guter Zecher ist Op.100 - Sextet for Piano 4-Hands, 2 Op.79 - 2 Charakterstücke, Piano (1885) Violins, Viola and Cello in G Major (1888) Mazurka Op.101 - Symphony No.4 in C Minor Scherzo a capriccio (1889) Op.80 - Serenade for Flute, 2 Violins, Op.102 - 2 Pieces for Piano (1889) Viola, Cello and Bass in D Major (1886) Op.103 - Lose Blätter, Piano (1890) Op.81 - 3 Gesänge, Woman's Voice Op.104 - Suite de pièces (1891) and Piano or Harmonium (1886) a. Version for Piano Ich stand auf Berges Halde b. Version for Piano, 4-Hands c. Version for Wind Decet

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Op.105 - 2 Pieces for Piano 4-Hands (1890) Op.121 - Maskenball, 7 Op.106 - Danklieds "Kann ichs ermessen", Charakterstücke, Piano (1894) Chorus and String Orchestra (1889) Op.122 - Wanderbilder (Travellingpieces), Op.107 - Einleitung und Capriccio, Piano (1894) Piano 4-Hands (1890 or 91) Morgenwanderung Op.108 - Serenade (1890) Ruhe im Wald a. Version for Flute and Piano Das Zigeunermädchen b. Version for Violin and Piano Begegnung c. Version for Piano Zwiegesang Op.109 - Piano Quartet No.3 in A minor Heimfahrt (1890) Op.123 - ? Op.110 - 6 Volkslieder, Soprano or Tenor Op.124 - Suite for Piano (1895) (1891) Op.125 - Serenade in 12 Canons for Du mit deiner Fiedel Piano No.2 (1895) Das ist der Frühling Op.126 - Piano Quintet No.3 in G In der Früh im Morgenroth minor (1895) Ach, wie wird die Mutter schmälen Op.127 - 4 Chorgesänge, 2 Sopranos, Der Mai ist auf dem Wege Alto and Piano (1895) Hansel, du Armer Die linden Lüfte sind erwacht Op.111 - Improvisationen, Piano, Heft V Bleib uns hier (1891) Anmuth bringen wir ins Leben Op.112 - Kinderfest (Childrens' frolics), Piano Ein geistlich Abendlied 4-Hands (1891) Op.128 - Der 121. Psalm "Ich hebe Op.113 - Graf Eberstein, Ballade for Men's meine Augen auf", Motet for Chorus Chorus (1891) and Organ ad lib. (1896) Op.114 - 5 Pieces for Piano (1891) Op.129 - ? Op.115 - 6 Kinderstücke, Piano 4- Hands Op.130 - 6 deutsche Volkslieder, (1892) Women's Chorus and Piano ad lib. (1897) Op.116 - Fandango und Minuet (2 Canons), Op.131 - 4 Phanatiestücke, Piano (1896) Piano (1892) Op.132 - 4 Charakterstücke, Piano (1896) Op.117 - 4 Pieces for Piano (1893) Op.133 - Notturno for Flute and Piano Widmung in G Major (1896) Frühlingsnahen Op.134 - Johannistag (Märchendichtung), Improvisata Women's Chorus and Piano (1897) Scherzino Op.135 - 3 kleine Walzer, Piano (1898) Op.118 - 4 Pieces for Piano (1893) Op.136 - 8 Mazurkas for Piano (1898) Wie sehr ich dein soll ich dir sagen Op.137 - Capriccio for Flute and Piano in D Siciliana minor (1899) Elegie Op.138 - Moments musicaux, Piano (1898) Capricietto Op.139 - Für Schule und Haus, 6 Op.119 - Romance for Flute and Piano Chorgesänge, 2 Sopranos and Alto (1899) in G Major (1894) Op.140 - Allegretto scherzando, Piano(1899) Op.120 - Cavatine for Cello and Op.141 - Ein Frühlingslied, Soprano, Orchestra in F Major (1894) Women's Chorus and Piano (1899)

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Op.142 - Notturno for Flute and Piano in F Major Op.143 - Aus fernen Tagen (6 Phantasiestücke), Piano (1902)

Works Without Opus Number Kraft der Erde, Licht der Sonne, Vocal Quartet (1861) Cadenzas to Beethoven's Piano Concerto No.4 in G, Op.58 (1875) Albumblatt, Piano (1881) Harmonielehre (1884?) Kol Nidrei (1894)

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Appendix III – C.D. Recordings

Cameo Classics C.D. Music of 19th Century Jewish German Composers Vol. 2, performed by Belarusian State Symphony Orchestra, Marius Stravinsky (conductor). Features: Brüll’s, Symphony Op.31 and Serenade No.1 Op.2

Cameo Classics C.D. The Romantic Ignaz Brüll, Janet Olney (piano). Features: Thema und Variationen, Bretonische Melodien, Ballade. Op.51, Berceuse, Spanische Tanz Op.11, Romanze, Impromptu, Mazurka, Berceuse. Op.72, Lied, Mazurka, Marsch, Schlummerlied, Walzer, Scherzo, Im Walde, In der Muhle.

Cpo Records C.D. Ignaz Brüll: Piano Works, 2009, Alexander Oehler (piano). Features: Piano Sonata in D minor, Op. 73, Suite for piano No. 2, Op. 71, Albumblätter (7) für die Jugend, for piano, Op. 33: No.6-7, Suite for piano No. 3, Op. 76: No.3-4, Romanze, for piano, Op. 57/4, and Suite for piano No. 4, Op. 80: No. 3

Hyperion C.D. The Romantic Piano Concerto ~ 47, 2008, performed by Rundfunk- Sinfonieorchester Berlin, Michael Sanderling (conductor), Markus Becker (piano). Features: Jadassohn’s Piano Concerto No.1 in C minor, 0p. 89 and Piano Concerto No. 2 in F minor Op.90 and Felix Draeseke’s Piano Concerto in E flat major Op. 36.

Hyperion C.D. The Romantic Piano Concerto, ~ 20, 1998, performed by BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra, Martyn Brabbins (conductor), Martin Roscoe (piano). Features: Brüll’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in F Major Op.10, Andante and Allegro Op.88, Piano Concerto No.2 in C Major Op.24

Toccata Classics, London, 2012, performed by Syrius Trio, piano trio: Elizabeth Cooney (violin), Jane Cords-O’Hara (cello), Bobby Chen (piano). Features: Jadassohn’s Piano Trios Nos. 1-3

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