A Case of Mistaken Identity: Brahms and the Enduring Variations
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a composer in possession of a good tune must be in want of a set of variations. Or, at least, this was certainly the case for Johannes Brahms in the summer of 1873. While vacationing in the charming Bavarian town of Tutzing, a period of supposed rest that the notoriously focused composer ensured was anything but, he produced one of his most beloved and inventive orchestral works: the Variations on a Theme by Haydn.
The story of this piece begins, amusingly enough,
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A Case of Mistaken Identity: Brahms and the Enduring Variations
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a composer in possession of a good tune must be in want of a set of variations. Or, at least, this was certainly the case for Johannes Brahms in the summer of 1873. While vacationing in the charming Bavarian town of Tutzing, a period of supposed rest that the notoriously focused composer ensured was anything but, he produced one of his most beloved and inventive orchestral works: the Variations on a Theme by Haydn.
The story of this piece begins, amusingly enough, with a case of mistaken identity. Brahms, a great admirer of Joseph Haydn and a keen student of music history, was shown a manuscript for a wind divertimento attributed to the elder composer by his friend, the musicologist C.F. Pohl. The second movement, a stately and dignified tune titled "Chorale St. Antoni," immediately captivated Brahms. Its unusual five-bar phrases, a departure from the more common four-bar structure, likely intrigued his architectural sense of musical construction. He promptly copied the theme and, a few years later, used it as the foundation for the magnificent set of variations you will hear this evening.
Herein lies the first amusing twist for our concertgoer: modern music scholarship has since revealed that the "Chorale St. Antoni" was almost certainly not composed by Haydn. The identity of the true composer remains a mystery, with some speculating it may have been one of Haydn's pupils, Ignaz Pleyel, or perhaps an even older, anonymous author of a pilgrim's chant. So, in a delightful irony, one of Brahms's most famous works is a tribute to a composer who, in this instance, was likely just a name incorrectly attached to a good melody. The title has stuck, a testament to Brahms's own belief and a charming quirk of music history.
This anecdote speaks to a larger truth about Brahms. He was a man deeply rooted in the traditions of the past, a musical conservative in an age of burgeoning Romantic excess. While his contemporaries like Wagner and Liszt were forging new, dramatic forms, Brahms found profound inspiration in the classical structures of Beethoven, Mozart, and, of course, Haydn. He was a master of taking established forms, such as the theme and variations, and imbuing them with his own unique emotional depth and intellectual rigor.
The work itself is a masterful display of Brahms's compositional genius. Following the noble presentation of the "Haydn" theme, Brahms leads us on a journey through eight distinct variations, each a world unto itself, before culminating in a glorious finale.
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Variation I gently awakens the theme, with lyrical strings weaving around the original melody.
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In stark contrast, Variation II is a more agitated and rhythmic exploration in the minor key.
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Variation III offers a moment of serene contemplation, a beautifully flowing and lyrical meditation.
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A somber and introspective mood pervades Variation IV, again in the minor key.
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The atmosphere brightens considerably in the scherzo-like Variation V, full of playful energy.
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Variation VI is a vigorous and martial affair, with a bold, fanfare-like quality.
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A graceful and lilting siciliano rhythm characterizes Variation VII, a moment of pure elegance.
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The final variation, VIII, is a mysterious and fleeting creation, shrouded in muted strings and soft woodwinds.
The Finale is a magnificent passacaglia, a baroque form in which a repeating bass line provides the foundation for a series of increasingly complex and brilliant variations. Brahms builds the intensity to a powerful climax, finally bringing back the "St. Antoni" chorale in a blaze of orchestral glory.
It is said that during his composing retreat in Tutzing, Brahms was so engrossed in his work that when a group of local artists sent him an invitation to join their gatherings, the maid found the invitation torn to pieces on his floor. Whether this speaks to his infamous curmudgeonly nature or simply his intense focus is a matter of interpretation. What is certain is that this period of dedicated work produced a masterpiece that is at once intellectually satisfying and deeply moving—a testament to the enduring power of a good tune, no matter who wrote it.
