Franz Ignaz Danzi (1763 – 1826): Horn Sonata no 2 in E Minor, op 44
It is a measure of Franz Danzi’s versatility that music historians have never quite agreed upon his overriding legacy as a composer. Was he a master of chamber music, particularly in the early evolution of the wind quintet? Or was he the all-important mentor to Carl Maria von Weber and one of the earliest pioneers of romantic German opera? Others know him for his six accomplished symphonies, or as a prolific writer of concertos, sacred music and German lieder. Some have even suggested his legacy would have been quite different but for certain ill-fated events in his life.
We can certainly attribute much of Danzi’s versatility to a musically rich childhood spent in and around Mannheim. His Italian father, Innocenz Danzi, was principal ‘cellist and répétiteur of the famous and innovative Mannheim orchestra, which at the time attracted many of the most illustrious performers and composers of the day*. Although young Franz was fortunate enough to join the orchestra as a ‘cellist in 1778, he was somewhat less fortunate to see it disbanded in the very same year. Karl Theodor, the elector of Palatinate (based in Mannheim) had just inherited the electorship of Bavaria, following the death of a childless relative, and decided to move himself and his court to Munich – though not without firstly taking most of the best Mannheim musicians with him.
*Charles Burney, the 18th century music historian, would write appreciatively of the ensemble: “There are truly more soloists and good composers in this orchestra than likely any other in Europe. It’s an army of generals – equally skilled at designing a plan of attack as participating in it.”
Unlike his father, Franz initially stayed behind in Mannheim. He received composition lessons from George Joseph (“Abbé”) Vogler, a composer, organ-designer, ordained priest and important didact of the period who divided opinion among those who knew him. A colourful character, he was genuinely revered by his pupils (including Danzi and Weber) who referred to him as “Papa”, while viscerally loathed by others for his supposedly over the top theatrics (Mozart – not a pupil – thought him a complete charlatan). Under Vogler’s supervision, Danzi produced two Singspiel operas Cleopatra and Azakia, before his 18th birthday, further confirming the impression that the late eighteenth century was an unprecedented time for teenage boys to be writing opera (and quite possibly one never to be repeated).
But Munich was also calling, not least after Danzi senior had decided to hang up his bow in Karl Theodor’s relocated orchestra and his son was invited to take his place. The job opportunity was however less flattering than it sounded, as Franz was paid only a third of his father’s old salary, and he was also denied further opportunities to write stage works for several years.
Danzi grew sufficiently frustrated with his position that he decided to find a wife and spread his wings instead. The 1790s were perhaps the happiest years of his life – he married Maria Margarethe Marchand, best known as a singer, but also a capable composer and pianist, with whom he toured for several years around central Europe and northern Italy (Danzi even directed an Italian opera troupe for a time). They eventually re-settled in Munich, where Franz took on a vice-Kapellmeister role at Munich Court Opera. Free to write operas again, Danzi scored his first genuine hit with Die Mitternachtsstunde (The Witching Hour), composed in 1798 and swiftly followed it with another, Der Kuß (The Kiss). A distinguished career on the stage tantalisingly beckoned. But then he was badly hit by a series of personal and professional setbacks.
Firstly, he lost his wife, Maria, after a long illness to a lung ailment (probably tuberculosis) – Danzi later admitted that her death took away much of his creative drive, and for a time he refused to perform any of the music which he associated with her. Changes were also afoot at the Munich Court Opera, following a change of elector, funding cuts and the appointment of new staff not always well-disposed towards their incumbent vice-Kapellmeister. Danzi suddenly found himself back out in the cold and having to re-think his priorities. For several years he wrote mainly instrumental music and began to work more as a teacher. He made one last attempt on the Munich stage with his 1807 opera, Iphigenie, but after its ignominious failure, he had had enough and finally left the city to take up a position at the Royal Theatre in Stuttgart instead.
It would turn out to be an unexpectedly auspicious move for the future of German opera. In Stuttgart, Danzi met Carl Maria von Weber and became an important friend and mentor to the sometimes troubled and unruly young man. Despite their 23-year age gap, the two composers appeared to take an almost instant liking for one another – although most people seemed to find Danzi a naturally engaging type anyway. Carl Maria’s son Max would later describe Danzi as a “plump little man with a rounded head and sharp, clever eyes which always seemed good-humoured.” Other contemporaries noted Danzi’s worldliness, wide education and refined manners. “As a conversation partner he was initiatory and captivating”, recalled one. “His behaviour was polite and likeable, making a good impression on everyone.”
Danzi’s setbacks had left him pragmatic rather than bitter in middle age. Although his own operatic writing had been rooted in Singspiel, he still had visions of creating a new type of German-language opera that was more serious and ambitious in its scope. It was a subject that occupied endless hours of discussion between him and his young protégé, and most Weber scholars acknowledge Danzi as a major creative influence on the budding composer: there is something in the characteristically rich harmonies, bright instrumental colours and cantabile melodies of Weber’s mature music which owes much to the older man. Weber would often ask Danzi to send him his latest scores so that he could study them.
But while Danzi presciently saw a great future for Weber, he was not entirely finished with his own ambitions. He would prepare the ground for the future composer of Der Freischütz with his 1813 opera Der Berggeist (The Mountain Spirit), based upon a popular Bohemian myth. With a storyline evoking Teutonic landscapes full of mythical, fairy-tale characters, Danzi pointedly described the work as “romantic”. Unfortunately, Der Berggeist was then completely forgotten for 200 years and only unearthed in 2012 – as one contemporary commentator, Marita Berg, has noted, it was like suddenly discovering that Der Freischütz had an older brother.
In other ways, Danzi never really settled well in Stuttgart either and nor did he get on with Württemberg’s elector, Frederick I. With his health starting to weaken, he moved again to take up a less demanding position at the Royal Konservatorium in Karlsruhe, painstakingly improving the quality of the orchestra there and introducing them to works by Mozart, Beethoven, Cherubini and Weber. He would see out the rest of his days in Karlsruhe and as his energy levels further waned, he would often pass over conducting assignments to friends or colleagues.
But even in these final, declining years, Danzi was still moved to try something new. Having noticed how much money his near contemporary, Anton Reicha, had been making from writing wind quintets, he decided to try his own hand at the still relatively novel genre. Danzi’s quintets (he would write nine in all during the last decade of his life) skilfully build on the pioneering work of Reicha and open out new technical possibilities for the five instrumentalists*. But they are also generally easier to play and full of attractive, tuneful melodies.
*Usually flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon and horn.
Danzi had had plenty of practice at writing chamber music before these quintets (among his offerings were string quartets, piano quintets, trios and septets). His Horn Sonata no 2 in E Minor was written at the age of 51, and although a relatively mature work, it is full of the freshness and vigour which seems to characterize so much of his music.
The first movement, serious and sometimes turbulent in character, uses a classic sonata form structure, one which allows for plenty of rhythmic and textural variety. Although the melodic material is shared evenly between the two instruments, the horn tends to take a supporting role in the more virtuosic passages. At that time, French horns were still valveless, and hence more limited in their technical scope than today’s instrument (valves would not become common until much later in the century), so the instrument is spared – mostly – the more difficult stuff*.
* A clue also comes from the official title of the piece: “Sonata for piano with accompaniment for obligato horn or violoncello” – Beethoven would write a similar title over his own Horn Sonata of 1800.
The lovely slow movement, in E Major, is a kind of loose rondo with a recurring horn theme (accompanied in the warm lower registers of the piano) faintly reminiscent of the theme which opens Beethoven’s A Flat Major Piano Sonata op 26. But there are some interesting excursions in between each of its appearances. The last movement is an inventive set of variations, also in a more cheerful E Major tonality, again demonstrating Danzi’s ability to keep varying the ebb and flow of the music – sometimes lively and exuberant, at other times subdued and more reflective.
Suggestions for further listening
Although somewhat overlooked today, Danzi’s music is well worth rediscovering. Like many opera composers, he seems to have possessed a natural gift for turning out attractive and colourful compositions.
His symphonies show a certain influence of Haydn and Beethoven, without really sounding too much like one or the other.
He wrote several concertos, including one for the Piano in E Flat Major, and for the ‘Cello in E Minor (his own instrument) – some of his other concertos still exist in manuscript form only and await publication.
His late wind quintets show a more intimate side to his writing, but they too are lively and vibrant.