[Sidenote:  Other cyclical forms.]

[Sidenote:  Pianoforte and orchestra.]

It will readily be understood that the other cyclical compositions which I have associated with a classic concert, that is, compositions belonging to the category of chamber music (see Chapter III.), and concertos for solo instruments with orchestral accompaniment, while conforming to the scheme which I have outlined, all have individual characteristics conditioned on the expressive capacity of the apparatus.  The modern pianoforte is capable of asserting itself against a full orchestra, and concertos have been written for it in which it is treated as an orchestral integer rather than a solo instrument.  In the older conception, the orchestra, though it frequently assumed the privilege of introducing the subject-matter, played a subordinate part to the solo instrument in its development.  In violin as well as pianoforte concertos special opportunity is given to the player to exploit his skill and display the solo instrument free from structural restrictions in the cadenza introduced shortly before the close of the first, last, or both movements.

[Sidenote:  Cadenzas.]

[Sidenote:  Improvisations by the player.]

[Sidenote:  M.  Ysaye’s opinion of Cadenzas.]

Cadenzas are a relic of a time when the art of improvisation was more generally practised than it is now, and when performers were conceded to have rights beyond the printed page.  Solely for their display, it became customary for composers to indicate by a hold ([fermata symbol]) a place where the performer might indulge in a flourish of his own.  There is a tradition that Mozart once remarked:  “Wherever I smear that thing,” indicating a hold, “you can do what you please;” the rule is, however, that the only privilege which the cadenza opens to the player is that of improvising on material drawn from the subjects already developed, and since, also as a rule, composers are generally more eloquent in the treatment of their own ideas than performers, it is seldom that a cadenza contributes to the enjoyment afforded by a work, except to the lovers of technique for technique’s sake.  I never knew an artist to make a more sensible remark than did M. Ysaye, when on the eve of a memorably beautiful performance of Beethoven’s violin concerto, he said:  “If I were permitted to consult my own wishes I would put my violin under my arm when I reach the fermate and say:  ’Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached the cadenza.  It is presumptuous in any musician to think that he can have anything to say after Beethoven has finished.  With your permission we will consider my cadenza played.’” That Beethoven may himself have had a thought of the same nature is a fair inference from the circumstance that he refused to leave the cadenza in his E-flat pianoforte concerto to the mercy of the virtuosos but wrote it himself.