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Title: The Pianoforte Sonata
       Its Origin and Development

Author: J.S. Shedlock

Release Date: November 16, 2005 [EBook #17074]

Language: English

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THE

PIANOFORTE SONATA

ITS ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT

BY

J.S. SHEDLOCK, B.A.

[Illustration: MONUMENT OF BERNARDO PASQUINI IN THE CHURCH OF SAN
LORENZO IN LUCINA ROME

SKETCHED BY STRITCH HUTTON]

METHUEN & CO.
36 ESSEX STREET, W.C.
LONDON




CONTENTS

CHAP.                                                        PAGE

   I. INTRODUCTORY                                              1

  II. JOHANN KUHNAU                                            38

 III. BERNARDO PASQUINI: A CONTEMPORARY OF J. KUHNAU           71

  IV. EMANUEL BACH AND SOME OF HIS CONTEMPORARIES              82

   V. HAYDN AND MOZART                                        111

  VI. PREDECESSORS OF BEETHOVEN                               130

 VII. LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN                                    160

VIII. TWO CONTEMPORARIES OF BEETHOVEN                         192

  IX. SCHUMANN, CHOPIN, BRAHMS, AND LISZT                     207

   X. THE SONATA IN ENGLAND                                   221

  XI. MODERN SONATAS, DUET SONATAS, SONATINAS, ETC.           235

      INDEX                                                   241




PREFACE


This little volume is entitled "The Pianoforte Sonata: its Origin and
Development." Some of the early sonatas mentioned in it were, however,
written for instruments of the jack or tangent kind. Even Beethoven's
sonatas up to Op. 27, inclusive, were published for "Clavicembalo o
Pianoforte." The Germans have the convenient generic term "Clavier,"
which includes the old and the new instruments with hammer action;
hence, they speak of a _Clavier Sonate_ written, say, by Kuhnau, in
the seventeenth, or of one by Brahms in the nineteenth, century.

The term "Piano e Forte" is, however, to be found in letters of a
musical instrument maker named Paliarino, written, as we learn from
the valuable article "Pianoforte," contributed by Mr. Hipkins to Sir
George Grove's _Dictionary of Music and Musicians_, already in the
year 1598, and addressed to Alfonso II., Duke of Modena. The earliest
sonata for a keyed instrument mentioned in this volume was published
in 1695; and to avoid what seems an unnecessary distinction, I have
used the term "Pianoforte Sonata" for that sonata and for some other
works which followed, and which are usually and properly termed
"Harpsichord Sonatas."

I have to acknowledge kind assistance received from Mr. A.W. Hutton,
Mr. F.G. Edwards, and Mr. E. Van der Straeten. And I also beg to thank
Mr. W. Barclay Squire and Mr. A. Hughes-Hughes for courteous help at
the British Museum; likewise Dr. Kopfermann, chief librarian of the
musical section of the Berlin Royal Library.

J.S. SHEDLOCK.

LONDON, 1895.




THE PIANOFORTE SONATA




CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTORY


In history we find certain names associated with great movements:
Luther with the Reformation, or Garibaldi with the liberation of
Italy. Luther certainly posted on the door of the church at Wittenberg
his famous Theses, and burnt the Papal Bull at the gates of that city;
yet before Luther there lived men, such as the scholar Erasmus, who
have been appropriately named Reformers before the Reformation. So,
too, Cavour's cautious policy paved the way for Garibaldi's brilliant
victories. Once again, Leonardo da Vinci is named as the inventor of
chiaroscuro, yet he was preceded by Fra Filippo Lippi. And in similar
manner, in music, certain men are associated with certain forms.
Haydn, for example, is called the father of the quartet; close
investigation, however, would show that he was only a link, and
certainly not the first one in a long evolution. So, too, with the
sonata. The present volume is, however, specially concerned with the
_clavier_ or pianoforte sonata; and for that we have a convenient
starting-point--the Sonata in B flat of Kuhnau, published in 1695. The
date is easy to remember, for in that same year died England's
greatest musician, Henry Purcell.

Before studying the history of the pianoforte sonata, even in outline,
it is essential that something should be said about the early history
of the _sonata_. That term appears first to have been used in
contradistinction to _cantata_: the one was a piece _sounded_
(_suonata_, from _sonando_) by instruments; the other, one _sung_ by
voices. The form of these early sonatas (as they appear in Giovanni
Gabrieli's works towards the close of the sixteenth century) was
vague; yet, in spite of light imitations, the basis was harmonic,
rather than contrapuntal. They were among the first fruits of the
Renaissance in Italy. But soon there came about a process of
differentiation. Praetorius, in his _Syntagma musicum_, published at
Wolfenbuettel in 1619, distinguishes between the _sonata_ and the
_canzona_. Speaking generally, from the one seems to have come the
sonata proper; from the other, the suite. During the whole of the
eighteenth century there was a continual intercrossing of these two
species; it is no easy matter, therefore, to trace the early stages of
development of each separately.

Marpurg, in his description of various kinds of pieces in his
_Clavierstuecke_, published at Berlin in 1762, says: "Sonatas are
pieces in three or four movements, marked merely _Allegro_, _Adagio_,
_Presto_, etc., although in character they may be really an
_Allemande_, _Courante_, and _Gigue_." Corelli, as will be mentioned
later on, gave dance titles in addition to Allegro, Adagio, etc.
Marpurg also states that "when the middle movement is in slow time it
is not always in the key of the first and last movements." This,
again, shows intercrossing. The genuine suite consisted of several
dance movements (Allemande, Courante, Sarabande, Gigue) all in the
same key. But we find occasionally in suites, a Fugue or Fuguetta, or
even an Aria or Adagio; and in name, at any rate, one dance movement
has formed part of the sonata since the time of Emanuel Bach.

In 1611, Banchieri, an Olivetan monk, published at Venice his
_L'Organo suonarino_, a work "useful and necessary to
organists,"--thus runs the title-page. At the end of the volume there
are some pieces, vocal and instrumental (a Concerto for soprano or
tenor, with organ, a Fantasia, Ricercata, etc.), among which are to be
found two _sonatas_, the one entitled, "Prima Sonata, doppio
soggietto," the other "Seconda Sonata, soggietto triplicato." They are
written out in open score of four staves, with mezzo-soprano, alto,
tenor, and bass clefs. To show how the sonatas of those days differed
both in form and contents from the sonata of our century, the first of
the above-mentioned is given in short score. It will, probably, remind
readers of "the first (_i.e._ sonatas) that my (_i.e._ Dr. Burney)
musical inquiries have discovered, viz., some sonatas by Francesco
Turini, which consisted of only a single movement, in fugue and
imitation throughout."

[Music illustration]

Turini was organist of Brescia Cathedral, and in 1624 published
_Madrigali a una, due, tre voci, con alcune Sonate e a tre, Ven.
1624_. Between Turini, also Carlo Farina, who published violin
sonatas at Dresden in 1628, and Corelli (_b._ 1653), who brought out
his first work in 1683, one name of great importance is Giovanni
Legrenzi.

In the eighth volume of Dr. Burney's musical extracts there are two
sonatas, _a tre, a due violini e violone_, by Legrenzi (opera ottava,
1677). The first is in B flat. It commences with a movement in common
time entitled _La Benivoglia_.

[Music illustration]

An Adagio in G minor (only six bars) is followed by an Allegro in D
minor, six-eight time, closing on a major chord; then eight bars
common time in B flat (no heading); and, finally, a Presto
(three-four) commencing in G minor and closing in B flat. None of the
movements is in binary form.

The 2nd Sonata, in D, has five short movements. No. 1 has an opening
of thirty-seven bars in common time, fugato. There is a modulation in
the ninth bar to the dominant, and, later on, a return to the opening
theme and key; in the intervening space, however, in spite of
modulation, the principal key is not altogether avoided.

Sonatas of various kinds by Legrenzi appeared between 1655 and 1677.
Then there were the "Varii Fiori del Giardino Musicale ouero Sonate da
Camera, etc.," of Gio. Maria Bononcini, father of Battista Bononcini,
the famous rival of Handel, published at Bologna in 1669, and the
sonatas of Gio. Battista Vitali (Bologna, 1677). Giambatista Bassani
of Bologna, although his junior by birth, was the violin master of the
great Corelli. His sonatas only appeared after those of his
illustrious pupil, yet may have been composed before. Of the twelve in
Op. 5, most have many short movements; some, indeed, are so short as
to be scarcely deserving of the name.

By the time of Arcangelo Corelli, who, as mentioned, published his
first work (Op. 1, twelve sonatas for two violins and a bass) in 1683,
sonatas answered to the definition given by Mattheson in his _Das neu
eroeffnete Orchester_ (1713), in which they are said to consist of
alternate Adagio and Allegro. J.G. Walther, again, in his dictionary
of music,[1] which appeared at Leipzig in 1732, describes a sonata as
a "grave artistic composition for instruments, especially violins."
The idea of grouping movements was already in vogue in the sixteenth
century. Morley in his _Plain and Easy Introduction to Practical
Music_, printed in 1597, speaks of the desirableness of _alternating_
Pavans and Galliards, the one being "a kind of staid musick ordained
for grave dancing," and the other "a lighter and more stirring kind of
dancing." Contrast was obtained, too, not only by difference in the
character, but also, in the measure of the music; the former was in
common, the latter in triple time.

With regard to the grouping of movements, Corelli's sonatas show
several varieties. The usual number, however, was four, and the order
generally--slow, fast, slow, fast. Among the forty-eight (Op. 1, 2, 3,
and 4, published 1685, 1690, 1694, and 1700 respectively) we find the
majority in four movements, in the order given above[2]; of the twelve
in Op. 3, no less than eleven have four movements, but--

No. 1 (in F) has       Grave, Allegro, Vivace, Allegro.
No. 6 (in G),          Vivace, Grave, Allegro, Allegro.
No. 10 (in A minor),   Vivace, Allegro, Adagio, Allegro.

There are, however, eight sonatas consisting of _three movements_; and
as this, a century later, became the normal number, we will give the
list:--

Op. 1, No. 7 (in C)            Allegro, Grave, Allegro.
                               (Middle movement begins in
                               A minor, but ends in C.)

Op. 2, No. 2 (in D minor)      Allemanda (Adagio)
                               Corrente (Allegro), Giga
                               (Allegro).

Op. 2, No. 6 (in G minor)      Allemanda (Largo), Corrente,
                               Giga.

Op. 2, No. 9 (F sharp minor)   Allemanda (Largo).
                               Tempo di Sarabanda (Largo).
                               Giga (Allegro).

Op. 4, No. 8 (D minor)         Preludio (Grave).
                               Allemanda (Allegro).
                               Sarabanda (Allegro).

Op. 4, No. 10 (G)              Preludio[3] (Adagio) and Allegro.
                               Adagio and Grave (E minor).
                               Tempo di Gavotta (Allegro).

Op. 4, No. 11 (C minor)        Preludio (Largo).
                               Corrente (Allegro).
                               Allemanda (Allegro).

Op. 4, No. 12 (B minor)        Preludio (Largo).
                               Allemanda (Presto).
                               Giga (Allegro).

It is interesting to note that each of the two sonatas (Op. 1, No. 7,
and Op. 4, No. 10), most in keeping with its title of sonata, has the
middle movement in a relative key. Op. 1, No. 7, begins with an
Allegro in common time; and the short Grave is followed by a light
Allegro in six-eight time. The first movement, with its marked return
to the principal key, is very interesting in the matter of form. The
other sonatas with suite titles have all their movements in the same
key. Locatelli in his _XII Sonate_ for flute, published early in the
eighteenth century, has in the first: Andante, Adagio, Presto; also
Nos. 3, 5, etc. So, too, in Tartini's Sonatas (Op. 1) there are also
some in three (No. 3, etc.). But Emanuel Bach commenced with that
number, to which, with few and unimportant exceptions, he remained
faithful; likewise to the slow movement dividing the two quick ones.
The three-movement form used by J.S. Bach for his concertos and
sonatas no doubt considerably influenced his son. But already, in
1668, Diderich Becker, in his _Musikalische Fruelings-Fruechte_, wrote
sonatas for violins, etc. and _continuo_, in three movements. (No. 10,
Allegro, Adagio, Allegro. Again, Sonata No. 19 opens with a movement
in common time, most probably an Allegro; then comes an Adagio, and,
lastly, a movement in six-four, most probably quick _tempo_.) These
sonatas of Becker _a 3_, _4_ or _5_, with _basso continuo_, are
unfortunately only printed in parts. As a connecting link between the
Gabrielis and Corelli, and more particularly as a forerunner of
Kuhnau, Becker is of immense importance. We are concerned with the
clavier sonata, otherwise we should certainly devote more space to
this composer. We have been able to trace back sonatas by German
composers to Becker (1668), and by Italian composers to Legrenzi
(1655); those of Gabrieli and Banchieri, as short pieces, not a group
of movements, are not taken into account. Now, of earlier history, we
do know that Hans Leo. von Hasler, said to have been born at Nuremberg
in 1564, studied first with his father, but afterwards at Venice, and
for a whole year under A. Gabrieli. Italian and German art are thus
intimately connected; but what each gave to, or received from, the
other with regard to the sonata seems impossible to determine. The
Becker sonatas appeared at Hamburg, and surely E. Bach must have been
acquainted with them. Becker in his preface mentions another Hamburg
musician--a certain Johann Schop--who did much for the cause of
instrumental music. Schop, it appears, published concertos for various
instruments already in the year 1644. And there was still another work
of importance published at Amsterdam, very early in the eighteenth
century, by the famous violinist and composer G. Torelli, which must
have been known to E. Bach. It is entitled "Six Sonates ou Concerts a
4, 5, e 6 Parties," and of these, five have three movements (Allegro,
Adagio, and Allegro).

Corelli was the founder of a school of violin composers, of which
Geminiani,[4] Locatelli,[5] Veracini,[6] and Tartini[7] were the most
distinguished representatives; the first two were actually pupils of
the master. In the sonatas of these men there is an advance in two
directions: sonata-form[8] is in process of evolution from binary
form, _i.e._ the second half of the first section is filled with
subject-matter of more definite character; the bars of modulation and
development are growing in number and importance; and the principal
theme appears as the commencement of a recapitulation. We should like
to say that _binary_ is changing into _ternary_ form; unfortunately,
however, the latter term is used for a different kind of movement. To
speak of a movement in sonata-form, containing three sections
(exposition, development, and recapitulation) as in binary form, seems
a decided misnomer.

The violinists just mentioned were the last great writers of sonatas
in Italy. Emanuel Bach arose during the first half of the eighteenth
century, and, henceforth, Germany took the lead; Bach was followed by
Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. The influence of the Corelli[9] school
was felt in Germany and also in England. Sonatas were published by
Veracini at Dresden in 1721, and by Tartini and Locatelli at Amsterdam
before 1740. Again Veracini was for a time solo violinist to the
Elector of Dresden (1720-23); Tartini lived for three years at Prague
(1723-26), while Locatelli, during the first half of the eighteenth
century, made frequent journeys throughout Germany. Emanuel Bach, the
real founder of the modern pianoforte sonata, must have been
influenced by their works.

In a history of the development of the sonata generally, those of
Corelli would occupy an important place, for in them we find not only
fugal and dance forms, but also hints of sonata-form.

Dr. Parry, in his article on "Sonata" in Sir G. Grove's _Dictionary
of Music and Musicians_, has named the Corrente of Corelli's 5th
Sonata in Op. 4 as offering "nearly a miniature of modern binary
form." The well-known Giga Allegro of the 9th Sonata (Op. 5), and the
Allemanda Allegro of the 10th Concerto in C, also present remarkable
foreshadowings.

Handel, however, furnishes a very striking illustration--

In the six "Sonatas or Trios for two Hoboys with a thorough bass for
the harpsichord," said to have been composed already in 1696, we find
quick movements in binary form. In some, the first section offers both
a first and a second subject, while in the second section, after
modulation, there is a return to the opening theme, though quite at
the close of that section. A brief description of one will make the
form clearer. The second Allegro of No. 4 (in F) has two sections. The
first, which ends in the dominant key (C), contains forty-six bars.
The opening theme begins thus:--

[Music illustration: _a_]

At the twenty-ninth bar, a passage leads to the second theme--

[Music illustration: _b_]

This second theme is, in a measure, evolved from the first. In any
case, it is of subordinate character; and it differs slightly as given
by first or second oboe, whereas the principal theme appears in
exactly the same manner for both instruments.

The second section opens with developments of _b_, and modulation from
C major to D minor; _a_ also is developed, the music passing from the
last-named key back to the opening one. There is a full close in that
key, and then modulation to F. The remaining twenty-two bars give the
first section in condensed form: first and second subjects and
coda.[10]

It would be interesting to trace the influences acting on the youth
Handel at the time when he wrote these sonatas. Most probably they
were Johann Philipp Krieger's[11] sonatas for violins and bass; N.A.
Strungk's sonatas published at Dresden in 1691; and more especially
Agostino Steffani's "Sonate da Camera" for two violins, alto, and
bass, published in 1683. An opera by the last-named, which appeared at
Hanover in 1699, has an "Air de Ballet," which contains the first
notes of "Let the bright Seraphim"; besides, it is known that Handel
culled ideas and "conveyed" notes from works of other composers; also,
that he turned them to the best account.

In the same year in which Corelli published his Op. 1 (1683), Domenico
Scarlatti, the famous harpsichord player, was probably born; in the
history of development his name is the principal one of importance
between Corelli and Emanuel Bach. In the matter of technique he
rendered signal service, but, for the moment, we are concerned with
his contribution towards development. Scarlatti does not seem to have
ever considered the sonata in the sense of a work consisting of
several contrasting movements; all of his are of only one movement.
The title "sonata" as applied to his pieces is, therefore, misleading.
Whether the term was actually used by the composer himself seems
doubtful. The first thirty of the sixty Scarlatti sonatas published by
Breitkopf & Haertel appeared during the lifetime of the composer at
Madrid. They are dedicated to John the Just, King of Portugal, and are
merely entitled

     _Essercizi per Gravicembalo._

In editions of the eighteenth century the composer's pieces are styled
Lessons or Suites. However, twelve published by J. Johnson, London,
are described on the title-page as _Sonatas modernas_.

From the earliest days of instrumental music dance tunes were divided
into two sections. The process of evolution is interesting. In the
earliest specimens, such as the _Branle_ given in the Orchesographie
of Thoinot Arbeau, we find both sections in the same key, and there is
only one theme. The movement towards the dominant note in this
_Branle_ may be regarded as a latent modulation. In time the first
section was developed, and the latent modulation became real; then,
after certain intermediate stages, the custom was established of
passing from the principal to the dominant key (or, in a minor piece,
to the relative major or dominant minor), in which the first section
closed. But in Corelli,[12] and even in Scarlatti,[13] we find,
occasionally, a return to an earlier stage (_i.e._ a first section
ending in the same key in which it commenced). In most of his pieces
Scarlatti modulates to the dominant; in minor, to the relative major.
Some exceptions deserve mention. In the Breitkopf & Haertel collection,
No. 26, in A major, passes to the minor key of the dominant; and No.
11, in C minor, modulates to the minor key of the dominant, but the
section closes in the major key of the dominant.

Scarlatti's sonatas consist, then, of one movement in binary form of
the early type. Only in a few of these pieces is there a definite
second subject; in none, a return to the opening theme. [Music
illustration] In No. 26 there is just a return to the first bar (see
second section, bar 11), but the previous ten bars show no modulation,
and one can scarcely speak of thematic development. After the few bars
of development and modulation, in some cases, the second section is
found to consist merely of a repetition of some part of the first
section, the key being tonic instead of dominant. This is,
practically, embryonic sonata-form. The tonic and dominant portions of
the first section are becoming differentiated; but the landmark,
_i.e._ the return to the opening theme in the second section which
divides binary from sonata form, is, in Scarlatti, non-existent. His
first sections often consist of a principal theme and passages, also
phrases indirectly connected with the opening one; sometimes of a
chain of short phrases more or less evolved from the opening thought
(see Nos. 1, 21, 29). (These and the numbers which follow refer to the
Breitkopf & Haertel edition of sixty Scarlatti sonatas.) The composer
often passes through the minor key of the dominant (in the first
section) before arriving at the major; sometimes the major is
introduced only late in the section (Nos. 7, 17, etc.), or minor
remains (No. 26). We meet with a similar proceeding in Beethoven.
Minor pieces often pass to the dominant minor, but end in major
(_i.e._, first section). In Scarlatti there is, for the most part, no
second subject, but frequently (Nos. 5, 7, 9, etc.) a concluding
phrase which can, at times, be traced to the opening theme. Sonata 6,
in F, shows a second subject of a certain independence. The best
examples are to be found in Nos. 24 and 29 (in A and E); in these the
character of the second subject differs from that of the first, and it
is also in a minor key, which offers still another contrast.

And now a word or two respecting Scarlatti's method of development. He
alters figures (Nos. 12 and 54), extends them (Nos. 9 and 54), but
often merely repeats passages on the same degrees as those of the
first section, or on different ones. He makes use of imitation (Nos. 7
and 36). Sometimes he evolves a phrase from a motive (No. 11). In No.
19 the development assumes a certain importance. It commences, not, as
in most cases, with the opening theme or figure of the first section,
but with a group of semiquaver notes which appears later in that
section. In No. 20 Scarlatti preserves the rhythm, but with total
change of notes (No. 20)--

[Music illustration]

The same number gives another interesting specimen of change of
rhythm. In No. 48 he picks out an unimportant group of notes, and
works it by imitation and sequence. There are some interesting
specimens of development in the thirty sonatas printed from
manuscripts in the possession of Lord Viscount Fitzwilliam by Robert
Birchall. Scarlatti's development bars are seldom many in number.

After modulation and development, the music slides, as it were, into
some phrase from the first section,[14] and allowance being made on
account of difference of key (there the music was passing, or had
passed from tonic; here it is returning to that key), the rest is more
or less a repetition of the first section. _More or less_: sometimes
the repetition is literal; at other times there is considerable
deviation; and shortenings are frequent. With regard to style of
writing for the clavier--a few canonic imitations excepted--there is
no real polyphony. Most of the sonatas are in only two parts. The
composer revels in rapid passages (runs, broken chords, simple and
compound), wide leaps, difficult octaves, crossing of hands, and, of
course, short shakes innumerable. Domenico Scarlatti was indeed one of
the most renowned _virtuosi_ on the clavier. Handel met him at Rome in
1708, and Cardinal Ottoboni persuaded them to compete with each other.
We are told that upon the harpsichord the victory was doubtful, but
upon the organ, Scarlatti himself confessed the superiority of his
rival.[15]

Johann Kuhnau published a sonata for clavier in 1695, and this was
followed up by a set of seven sonatas ("Frische Fruechte") in 1696, and
a few years later (1700) by the seven "Bible" Sonatas. That he was the
first composer who wrote a sonata for the clavier is a point which
cannot be overlooked, and in the evolution of the sonata he occupies
an interesting position. In the "Frische Fruechte" there is, as Dr.
C.H. Parry truly remarks in his excellent article "Sonata" in Sir G.
Grove's _Dictionary of Music and Musicians_, an awakening sense of the
relation and balance of keys; but in the "Bible" Sonatas the form and
order of the movements is entirely determined by the Bible stories. As
specimens of programme-music they are altogether remarkable, and will,
later on, be described in detail; they do not, however, come within
the regular line of development. It was, of course, natural that such
a new departure should attract the notice of John Sebastian Bach, who
was Kuhnau's immediate successor as cantor of St. Thomas' School,
Leipzig, and Spitta, in his life of Bach, refers to that composer's
_Capriccio sopra la lontananza del suo fratello dilettissimo_, and
reminds us that "Kuhnau as well as so many others had some influence
on Bach." Of course, among the "so many others," Froberger's name--as
we shall see later on from Kuhnau's preface--deserves a prominent
place. In addition to what Kuhnau says, Mattheson has recorded that
"Froberger could depict whole histories on the clavier, giving a
representation of the persons present and taking part in them, with
all their natural characters." When writing the Capriccio above named,
Spitta believes that Bach was specially influenced by the last of the
"Bible" Sonatas (we may perhaps add that Spitta tells us that Bach
was intimately acquainted with Kuhnau). He indeed says: "We might
doubt the early origin of the Capriccio if its evident 'dependence' on
Kuhnau did not solve the mystery." Then, again, in a Sonata in D by
Bach, published in the Bach Gesellschaft edition, Spitta calls
attention to the opening subject in D, and does not hesitate to
declare that "it is constructed on the pattern of a particular part of
the story of Jacob's marriage" (the 3rd of the "Bible" Sonatas). His
description of the Bach sonata would, doubtless, have attracted more
notice but for the fact that copies of the Kuhnau sonatas were
extremely rare; they were, we believe, never reprinted since the
commencement of the eighteenth century. The first two have now been
published by Messrs Novello & Co. The Kuhnau influence on Bach seems,
however, to have been of short duration; for, after these juvenile
attempts, as Spitta observes, "he never again returned to this branch
of music in the whole course of a long artistic career extending over
nearly fifty years." The fugue form absorbed nearly the whole
attention of that master; and the idea of programme-music remained in
abeyance until Beethoven revived it a century later.[16] Emanuel Bach
inherited some of his father's genius, and he may instinctively have
felt the utter hopelessness of following directly in his footsteps.
J.S. Bach had exhausted the possibilities of the fugue form. It was
perhaps fortunate for Emanuel Bach that, while still young, he left
his father's house. After residing for a few years at
Frankfort-on-the-Oder, he entered the service of Frederick the Great;
and at the court of that monarch he came, at any rate, directly under
Italian influence.

An interesting link between Kuhnau and E. Bach is Mattheson, who
published at Hamburg in 1713 a sonata dedicated to the one who can
best play it (_derjenigen Persohn gewidmet, die sie am besten spielen
wird_). The work itself not being available, the following description
of it by J. Faisst (_Caecilia_, vol. 25, p. 157) may prove
interesting:--"It (_i.e._ the sonata) consists of only one movement,
which, considering its evidently intentional wealth of technique,
might be named a Toccata. But in form this one movement clearly
belongs to the sonata order, and, in fact, holds a middle place
between the tendencies towards sonata-form (the term taken in the
narrower sense of form of one single movement) noticeable in Kuhnau,
and the more developed shape which this form has assumed within recent
times. We have here three sections. In the opening one, the theme,
after its first exposition in the key of G, forms the basis of various
passages, and then appears in the key of the dominant, followed again
by passages of larger extent and richer contents; finally, in
abbreviated form, it reappears in the tonic. The second section
commences in the parallel key, E minor, with passages which recall
those of the first section, and continues with the theme in the same
key; afterwards theme and passages are developed through the keys of A
minor, C major, G major, D major and B minor; in the last, in which
the theme occurs, there is a full close. As third section the first is
taken _Da Capo_." It is evident from a remark made by Mattheson in his
_Der volkommene Capellmeister_, which appeared at Hamburg in 1739,
that some of the sonatas written during the transition period, between
Corelli and E. Bach, are lost, or, at any rate, have not been
discovered.[17] Mattheson says: "During the last years successful
attempts have been made to write sonatas for the clavier (formerly
they were for violins or instruments of that kind); still, up to now,
they have not the right form, and are capable of being touched (_i.e._
played) rather than of touching: they aim at the movement of fingers
rather than of hearts."[18]

A little later than Mattheson (_i.e._ in 1721), Pier Giuseppo Sandoni,
husband of the famous vocalist Cuzzoni, published at London "Sonate
per il Cembalo," dedicated to the Duchess of Pembroke. No. 1, in D
minor, has three movements, an Allemande, Largo, and Giga Presto; they
are all short, and in two sections; and, as a rule, the writing is in
two parts. No. 2, in F, opens with an Allegro of peculiar form. It
has four sections, each of which is repeated; the first (seven bars)
modulates to the key of C, closing thus--

[Music illustration]

The second section (also consisting of seven bars) soon modulates to D
minor, closing in that key in a manner similar to the first. The third
section (ten bars) consists of modulation and slight development, and
closes in A minor. The fourth section (fifteen bars) passes by means
of broken chords (in imitation of the last bar of the previous
section) through various keys, ending in the same fashion as the first
section, only, by way probably of intensification at the end, there
are seven instead of four quaver chords; the section, of course, ends
in F. This movement in the matter of form offers an interesting link
between Kuhnau and E. Bach. The second movement is a minuet, with
variations; it certainly has a beginning, but seems endless. The 3rd
Sonata, in A, resembles No. 1 in form, also in grouping of movements.

And in addition to the sonata of Mattheson, the Sei Sonatine per
Violino e Cembalo, di Georgio Philippo Telemann, published at
Amsterdam in 1721, will give us an approximate idea of the clavier
sonata between Kuhnau and Emanuel Bach. Each number, by the way, is
headed--title-page notwithstanding--a sonata. No. 1, in A major,
consists of four movements, Adagio, Allegro, Largo, Allegro, and all
the four are in binary form. The second is naturally the most
important; the others are very short and simple. In this Allegro,
besides the allusion in the dominant key to the theme at the opening
of the second section there is a return to it, after modulation, in
the principal key. Some of the other sonatas are longer, but No. 1
represents, roughly, the other five as to form and contents. No. 6, in
F, by the way, has only three movements: Vivace, Cantabile, and
Presto.

The "Sonate per Gravicembalo, novamente composte," published by
Giovanni Battista Pescetti in 1739, deserve notice, since they
appeared three years before the six sonatas dedicated by Emanuel Bach
to Frederick the Great. They are nine in number. In style of writing,
order, and character of movements, they bear the stamp of the period
in which they were written. Most of the movements in binary form are
of the intermediate type, _i.e._ they have the principal theme in the
dominant at the beginning of the exposition section, and again, later
on, in the principal key. There is considerable variety in the order
and number of movements. No. 1, for instance, has an Adagio, an
Allegro, and a Menuett with variations. No. 2, in D, has four
movements: Andante, Adagio, Allegro, Giga; the short Adagio is in D
minor. No. 3, in G minor: Presto and A Tempo Giusto (a dignified
fugue). The influence of Handel is strong, also that of Scarlatti.
Bars such as the following--

[Music illustration]

foreshadow, in a curious manner, the _Alberti_ bass.

A great number of clavier sonatas were written about the time during
which Emanuel Bach flourished: his first sonatas appeared in 1742, his
last in 1787. An interesting collection of no less than seventy-two
sonatas (sixty-seven by various composers; five anonymous), issued in
twelve parts, under the title _Oeuvres melees_ (twelve books, each
containing six sonatas), was published by Haffner at Wuerzburg,
somewhere between 1760 and 1767. And another collection of symphonies
and sonatas, principally by Saxon composers, was published at Leipzig
in 1762 under the title _Musikalisches Magazin_. We will give the
names of some of the chief composers, with titles of their works,
adding a few other details. It is difficult in some cases to ascertain
the year of publication; and it is practically impossible to say when
the sonatas were actually composed:--

     BACH, Wilh. Friedemann. Sei sonate, No. 1,[19] D
     major (Dresden, 1745). Sonata in C (published in Litolff's
     _Maitres du Clavecin_), and others in D and G (autographs),
     and in F, A, and B flat (manuscripts).

     BACH, Joh. Ernst. Two sonatas (in _Oeuvres
     melees_).

     NICHELMANN, Christoph. Sei brevi sonate, etc., Op.
     2; Nuremberg (between 1745-1756).

     HASSE. Two sonatas in E flat and B flat
     (manuscript; on one is the date of 1754). Two sonatas, one
     in D minor (only one Lento movement); the other in D major
     (only one Allegro movement in old binary form). These are
     both in the Leipzig collection named above.

     BENDA, Georg. Sei sonate (Berlin, 1757). Sonatas in
     G, C minor, and G, also seven sonatinas (Vermischte
     Clavierstuecke, Gotha, 1780).

     WAGENSEIL, Georg. Sonata (_Oeuvres melees_). Six
     sonatas for the harpsichord (with accompaniment for a
     violin).[20] Opera prima. (A. Hummel, London.)

     SCHAFFRATH, Christoph.[21] Six sonates, Op. 2
     (published by Haffner, Nuremberg, 1754).

     MOZART, Leopold. Three sonatas (_Oeuvres melees_).

     MUeTHEL, Joh. Gottfr. Three sonatas, etc. (Haffner,
     Nuremberg, about 1753); three sonatas (autograph).

     UMSTATT, Joseph.[22] One sonata (_Oeuvres melees_).
     Sonata consisting of only a Minuetto, Trio, and Gigue
     (Leipzig collection). And the two Italians--

     GALUPPI. Sonate per cembalo (London); and

     PARADIES, P. Domenico. Twelve sonate di
     gravicembalo (London).

     GRETRY, Belgian composer (1741-1813), wrote "Six
     sonates pour le clavecin" (1768), to which, unfortunately,
     we have not been able to gain access.

From the two collections, etc., may be gathered many facts of
interest. First, as regards the number and character of movements in a
sonata. Emanuel Bach kept, for the most part, to three: two fast
movements, divided by a slow one.[23] In the second of his Leipzig
collections (1780), there are two with only two movements (Nos. 2 and
3; a few bars connecting the two movements of No. 3). But among other
composers there are many examples; in some sonatas, the first movement
is a slow one; in others, both movements are quick, in which case the
second one is frequently a minuet.[24] All twelve sonatas of Paradies
have only two movements.

Of sonatas in three movements, some commence with a slow movement
followed by two quick movements.[25] (In one instance, in E. Bach's
sonatas, the 1st Collection, No. 2, in F, we even find two slow
movements followed by a quick one, Andante, Larghetto, Allegro assai.)
But the greater number had the usual order:--Allegro or Allegretto,
Andante or Adagio, and Allegro or Presto. Thus Hasse, Nichelmann,
Benda, and other composers. Now in E. Bach's Wuertemberg sonatas we
found all three movements were in the same key, and there are similar
cases in Hasse, Fried. Bach, Joh. Ernst Bach, etc.; but for the most
part, the middle (slow) movement was in some nearly related key; in a
sonata commencing in major--in the relative, or tonic minor, or minor
under-dominant; and even (as in a sonata by Adlgasser) in the
upper-dominant. Joh. C.F. Bach, in one instance, selected the minor
key of the upper-dominant, and there are examples of more remote keys
(E. Bach, Coll. of 1780, No. 1). With sonatas commencing in minor, the
key selected for the middle movement was generally the relative major
of the under-dominant, or that of the tonic; sometimes even tonic
major. A very extraordinary example of a remote key is to be met with
in Bach's Collection of 1779, No. 3: his opening movement is B minor,
but his middle one, G minor.[26]

It should be mentioned with regard to sonatas in three movements
commencing in a minor key, that the last generally (in works of this
period) remains and ends in minor. In modern sonatas the major is
often found, at any rate before the close (see Beethoven, Op. 10, No.
1, etc.).

Baldassare Galuppi, born in 1706 on the island of Burano, near Venice,
was a pupil of Lotti's. Two sets of six "Sonate per il cembalo" of
his were published in London. We cannot give the date, but may state
that a sonata of his in manuscript bears the date 1754 (whether of
copy or composition is uncertain; anyhow, the year given acts as
limit). The variety in the number of the movements of the published
sonatas (one has four, some have three, some two, while No. 2 of the
first set has only one) points to a period of transition. This alone,
apart from the freshness and charm of the music, entitles them to
notice. Much of the writing is thin (only two parts), and,
technically, the music far less interesting than the Scarlatti pieces.
Some of the phrases and figures, and the occasional employment of the
Alberti bass, tell, however, of the new era soon about to be
inaugurated by Haydn. There is one little feature in the 1st Sonata of
the first set which may be mentioned. In the second section of the
Adagio (a movement in binary form) of that sonata, the theme appears,
as usual then, at the beginning of the second section, and, later on,
reappears in the principal key, but it starts on the fourth, instead
of the eighth quaver of the bar.

There was great variety in the order of movements. Sometimes a slow
movement was followed by two quick movements;[27] and the third
movement was frequently a minuet. The quick movement sometimes came in
the middle (Galuppi, Sonata in B flat), sometimes at the beginning
(E. Bach, Coll. 1781, No. 3), sometimes at the end (E. Bach, Coll.
1779, No. 2). Then, again, sometimes all, but frequently two of the
three movements, were connected, _i.e._ the one passed to the other
without break.

So much for sonatas in two or three movements. But among the _Oeuvres
melees_ there are no less than twenty which have four movements--some
in the old order: slow, fast, slow, fast; others in a new order:
Allegro, Andante or Adagio, Minuet, and Allegro or Presto.[28] Thus
Wagenseil,[29] Houpfeld, J.E. Bach, Hengsberger, and Kehl. Sometimes
(as in Seyfert and Goldberg) the Minuet came immediately after the
Allegro[30] (see Beethoven chapter with regard to position of Minuet
or Scherzo in his sonatas). In a sonata by Schaffrath, the opening
Allegro is followed by a Fugue. Again (in Spitz, Zach, and Fischer)
the following order is found: Allegro, Andante, Allegro, Minuet. In
Fischer all the movements are in one key; only the Trio of the Minuet
is in the tonic minor. In Spitz the Andante is in the under-dominant,
the other movements being in the principal key. In Zach the Andante is
in the minor tonic, and the third movement in the upper-dominant. It
is well to notice that _in none of these four-movement sonatas are the
movements connected_. The same thing is to be observed in Beethoven,
with exception, perhaps, of Op. 110. In the _Oeuvres melees_ there is
only one instance of a sonata in _five_ movements by Umstatt. It
consists of an Allegro, Adagio (in the dominant), Fugue Allegro (in
the relative of dominant), a Minuet in the principal key, with Trio in
relative minor; and, finally, a Presto. By way of contrast, we may
recall the two sonatas of Hasse, in one movement, already mentioned,
and also the last of Emanuel Bach's six sonatas of 1760.

The works of many of the composers named in connection with
differences in the number and order of movements are forgotten; and,
in some cases, indeed, their names are not even thought worthy of a
place in musical dictionaries. Yet these variations are of great
moment in the history of development. And this for a double reason.
First, many of the works must have been known to E. Bach, and yet he
seems to have remained, up to the last, faithful to the three-movement
plan. One or two of his sonatas have only two movements, none,
however, has four. Secondly, the experiment of extending the number to
more than three, practically passed unheeded by Dussek, Clementi,
Mozart,[31] Haydn,[32] and by all the composers of importance until
Beethoven. The last-named commenced with sonatas in four movements;
but, as will be seen in a later chapter, he afterwards became partial
to the scheme of three movements.

Let us now consider, and quite briefly, movements in binary form;
again, in this matter, some instructive facts will be gathered from
the works of Bach's contemporaries. As in Scarlatti, so here we find
the first of the two sections into which such a movement is divided,
ending in one case[33] in the tonic, but, as a rule, in the dominant.
There is, however, an instance of the close in the under-dominant
(Muethel, No. 2 of the Sonatas of 1780), and in E. Bach, in the
relative minor of the under-dominant (Sonatas of 1780, No. 3, Finale).
In a minor key, the first section closed either in the key of the
relative major, or that of the dominant minor[34]--much more
frequently the former.

Now, in proportion as the second part of the first section grew more
definite, so also did the approach to it. Everyone knows the pause so
frequently to be found in Haydn and Mozart, on the dominant of the
dominant, _i.e._ if the key of the piece were C--

[Music illustration]

It is instructive to compare the less formal methods of approaching
the new key in E. Bach and his contemporary Paradies; with them it was
generally by means of a half-close. It must be remembered that E. Bach
frequently has a movement quite on Scarlatti lines, _i.e._ without a
definite second subject;[35] also that the second subject in Bach's
time was, as a rule, of secondary importance. But, curiously, in the
Finale of a sonata written by Leopold Mozart (father of the great
genius), after a half cadence on the dominant of the dominant, _tempo_
and measure change (from Presto two-four, to Andante three-four, the
latter remaining until the end of the first section), and the same
occurs in the recapitulation section; by this means the second theme
was made specially prominent. In a sonata of Scarlatti's, in D,
commencing

[Music illustration]

there is a definite second subject in, by the way, the minor key of
the dominant, and it is divided from the first by two bars in common
time (a descending scale and a shake on a semibreve). And then again,
in No. 12 of the "Libro de XII. Sonatas Modernas para Clavicordio,"
the second subject is divided from the first by two bars of common
time (the piece is in Scarlatti's favourite measure, three-eight), an
ascending scale and a shake. There are clear examples of a second
subject, besides E. Bach, in Eberlin, Fleischer, J.C. Bach, and J.C.F.
Bach. Yet even in Haydn's sonatas one cannot always speak of a second
subject. The further history of the development of the contents of the
second half of the first section shows, as it were, a struggle between
two ideals. One was _kinship_, _i.e._ the endeavour to present the
secondary matter in strong relationship to the opening one (the
opening notes or bars of a real second subject were, indeed,
frequently the same, allowance being made, of course, for difference
of key); the other was _contrast_, _i.e._ the endeavour to obtain
variety. Haydn was more affected by the first; Mozart by the second.
In Beethoven the two are happily combined. It is important to notice
the closing bars of many first sections of the period of which we are
speaking. For instance, in E. Bach, the first movement of the sonata
in each of the Collections of 1781 and 1783 has a concluding theme
(as in the sonata of Scarlatti, and frequently evolved from the
opening theme). Though in the complementary key, it cannot count as
"the second subject." It appears after the complementary key has been
ushered in by one cadence, and after having apparently run its course,
it has been wound up by another. Then, again, the portion between the
cadences just mentioned is at times filled with a true theme, so that
the concluding one, like the cave of Abraham's field of Machpelah, is
in reality an appendency. _Sometimes there are several_: the
enlargement of the exposition section by Beethoven, and still more
modern composers, so that it contains sometimes three, and even more
themes, is practically an exposition section on Scarlatti lines, only
on a larger scale: the figure has become a phrase, mere connecting
passages have acquired organic meaning. The second section of
Scarlatti's movement in binary form contained a few bars of
development and modulation. Then a return was made to the opening key
of the piece, _but never to the opening theme_; and in that key a
portion more or less great, more or less varied, according to
circumstances, was repeated. That return to the opening theme is, as
we have already said, the landmark which divides binary from sonata
form.

In sonatas of the middle of the eighteenth century the modulation
section (in a major key) ended in various ways,--on the dominant
chord (of the principal key), on the tonic chord of the relative
minor, the under-dominant, or even on the tonic itself of the
principal key. Later on, Haydn and Mozart kept, for the most part, to
the dominant chord. Beethoven, on account of the distant, and often
abrupt, modulations of his middle sections, generally marked the
approach to the recapitulation by clear, and often prolonged, dominant
harmony; sometimes, however, the return of the principal theme comes
as a surprise. The recapitulation always remained more or less
faithful to the exposition. It is interesting to note how little the
character and contents of the recapitulation section have been
affected in modern times by the growth of the development section. In
the matter of balance the two sections of movements in binary form are
more satisfactory than the two sections (two, so far as outward
division is concerned) of modern sonatas. The grain of mustard-seed in
the parable grew into a tree, and so, likewise, have the few bars of
modulation of early days grown into an important section. However
difficult to determine the exact moment at which a movement in
sonata-form really ceased to be binary, there seems no doubt that that
moment has now passed. We have already noted when the change
commenced.




CHAPTER II

JOHANN KUHNAU


This remarkable musician was born, April 1660,[36] at Geysing, where
his grandfather, who, on account of his religious opinions, had been
forced to leave Bohemia, had settled. Already in his ninth year young
Kuhnau showed gifts for science and art. He had a pleasing voice, and
first studied under Salomon Kruegner, and afterwards under Christian
Kittel,[37] organist of the Elector at Dresden. His next teachers were
his brother Andreas Kuhnau, Alexander Hering,[38] and Vincenzo
Albrici. In 1680 the plague broke out at Dresden, and Kuhnau returned
to his parents. He then went to Zittau with a certain Erhard Titius,
who had been _Praefectus_ at the Kreuzschule, Dresden, and received
help from the court organist, Moritz Edelmann, also from the
"celebrated" Weise. A motet of Kuhnau's was given at Zittau under his
direction. After the death of Titius, Kuhnau resided for a time in the
house of J.J. von Hartig, judge at Zittau. In 1682 he went to Leipzig,
where D. Scherzer endeavoured to obtain for him the post of organist
at St. Thomas'; Kuehnel, however, was appointed. The latter died in
1684, and was succeeded by Kuhnau, who in 1700 also became cantor of
St. Thomas'. He devoted much of his time to jurisprudence. Among other
things, he wrote a curious satire, entitled _Der musikalische
Quacksalber_, published in 1700. There remain in manuscript,
_Tractatus de tetrachordo_ and _Introductio ad compositionem
musicalem_. Kuhnau had many pupils; we know of two who afterwards
became distinguished men. The one was Christoph Graupner (1683-1760),
who in 1710 became capellmeister at Darmstadt. In 1722, on the death
of Kuhnau, Graupner,[39] who had been prize scholar under him,
presented his testimonials, was examined, and seemed likely to become
cantor as his teacher's successor. Meanwhile, however, John Sebastian
Bach offered himself as candidate, and as Dr. Pepusch before Handel at
Cannons in 1710, so did Graupner retire before his great rival.
Mattheson, in his _Ehren-Pforte_ (p. 410), tells us that "as a
composer for the clavier, Graupner may rank as one of the best of his
time." He wrote suites and sonatas for clavier. Johann Friedrich Fasch
(1688-1758 or 9), the second pupil, soon after leaving Leipzig, where
he had enjoyed Kuhnau's instruction from 1701-7, went to Italy, and on
his return studied for a short time with Graupner. Fasch then filled
various posts, until in 1722 (the very year indeed of Kuhnau's death)
he became capellmeister at Anhalt Zerbst, where he remained until his
death. His son, Carl Friedrich Christian, was the founder of the
Berlin _Singakademie_. In 1756 Emanuel Bach had something to do with
Fasch's appointment as clavecinist to Frederick the Great. The father,
who was then seventy years of age, and who, like old Sebastian Bach,
lived with the fear of God before his eyes, opposed the wish of his
son to enter the service of the infidel king. Emanuel, who wished the
younger Fasch to come to Berlin, wrote to the father to say "that in
the land over which Frederick the Great ruled, one could believe what
one liked; that the king himself was certainly not religious, but on
that very account esteemed everyone alike." Bach offered to take young
Fasch into his house, and to preserve him as much as possible from
temptation. With regard to Graupner, it would be interesting to know
whether in any of his sonatas (the autographs of which are, we
believe, at Darmstadt) he worked at all on Kuhnau's lines. And with
regard to Fasch, one would like to know whether he ever conversed with
Emanuel Bach about his father, who taught him theory, and about Johann
Kuhnau, his father's renowned teacher. It is from such by-paths of
history that one sometimes learns more than from statements showing
how son descended from sire, and how pupils were directly influenced
by their teachers.

But it is as a musician that we are now concerned with Kuhnau, and, in
the first place, as the composer of the earliest known sonata for the
clavier. In 1695 he published at Leipzig--

"Sieben Partien aus dem Re, Mi, Fa, oder Terzia minore eines jedweden
Toni, benebenst einer _Sonata_ aus dem B. Denen Liebhabern dieses
Instrumenten zu gar besondern Vergnuegen aufgesetzet." That is--

Seven Partitas based on the Re, Mi, Fa, or minor third of each mode,
together with a Sonata in B flat, for the especial gratification of
lovers of this instrument.

With respect to this sonata, Kuhnau remarks in his preface: "I have
added at the end a Sonata in B flat, which will please amateurs; for
why should not such things be attempted on the clavier as well as on
other instruments?" In such modest fashion was ushered into the world
the first sonata for clavier, or, at any rate, the earliest with which
we are acquainted.[40]

Mattheson, in _Das neu eroeffnete Orchester_ (1713), speaks about the
_revival_ of clavier sonatas, so that it is not quite certain whether
that B flat Sonata was actually the first.[41] During the seventeenth
century, sonatas were written for various instruments, with a figured
bass for the cembalo.

It will, of course, be interesting to trace the influences acting upon
Kuhnau. They were of two kinds: the one, Italian; the other, German.
Corelli deserves first mention; and next, the Italian organist and
composer, Vincenzo Albrici,[42] capellmeister to the Elector of Saxony
from 1664-88, and afterwards organist of St. Thomas', Leipzig, who is
known to have encouraged Kuhnau when young, and to have helped him to
learn the Italian language. But German influence must also have been
strong. Of Froberger special mention will be made later on. There was
one man, Diderich Becker, who published sonatas for violins and bass
already in 1668, and these, if we mistake not, must have been well
known to Kuhnau. Apart from the character of the music, the title of
the work, _Musikalische Fruelings Fruechte_, and the religious style of
the preface, remind one of Kuhnau's "Frische Fruechte," also of his
preface to the "Bible" Sonatas. It is curious to find the quaint
expression "unintelligent birds" used first by Becker, and afterwards
by Kuhnau.

Let us describe briefly the above-mentioned B flat Sonata. The first
movement is in common time, but the composer gave it no heading. It is
generally supposed (Becker, Rimbault, Pauer) to be an Allegro;
_moderato_ might well be added, for the stately, Handelian-like (the
anachronism must be excused) music will scarcely bear a rapid _tempo_.
The movement opens with an eight-bar phrase, closing on the dominant.
Then the music, evolved from previous material, passes rapidly through
various related keys. After this modulation section there is a cadence
to F major, and in this, the dominant key, something like a new
subject appears, though it is closely allied to the first. A return is
soon made to the principal key, but there is no repetition of the
opening theme. After a cadence ending on the tonic (B flat), and two
coda-like bars, comes a fugal movement, still in the same key. The
vigorous subject, the well-contrasted counterpoint, the interesting
episodes, and many attractive details help one to forget the monotony
of key so prevalent in the days in which this sonata was written.
This, and indeed other fugues of Kuhnau show strong foreshadowings of
Handel and Bach; of this matter, however, more anon. The counterpoint
to the third entry of the subject is evolved from the opening subject
of the sonata. The third movement consists of a fine Adagio in E flat,
in the key of the subdominant and in three-four time. Then follows a
short Allegro in three-four time, of polyphonic character. At the
close of the movement Kuhnau has written the opening chords of the
first movement with the words _Da Capo_. A similar indication is to be
found in one of the "Frische Fruechte" Sonatas. This repetition, also
the third movement leading directly to the fourth, and the thematic
connection mentioned above, would seem to show that the composer
regarded the various sections of his sonata as parts of a whole.

In addition, Kuhnau wrote thirteen sonatas. The "Frische Clavier
Fruechte," or "Sieben Suonaten von guter Invention u. Manier auf dem
Clavier zu spielen," were published in 1696, and later editions in
1710 and 1724. In a quaint preface the composer tells us that in
naming his "Fresh Fruits" "sonatas," he kept in mind all kinds of
_inventiones_ and changes (Veraenderungen) by which so-called sonatas
are superior to mere partitas. Already a century before this preface
was written, Praetorius had distinguished between two classes of
instrumental music: the one, grave; the other, gay. The composer has
also a word to say about the graces or ornaments, the "sugar which
sweetens the fruits." In modern reprints of Kuhnau the sugar is
sometimes forgotten.[43] These "Frische Fruechte" were followed by six
"Bible" Sonatas in 1700. The former, both as regards form and
contents, are remarkable. Kuhnau was a man of deeper thought and
loftier conception than Emanuel Bach, but he was fettered by fugal
forms,[44] and was fighting against them much in the same spirit in
which Beethoven, a century later, fought against sonata-form, in the
most general sense of that term. Beethoven was not only the more
gifted, but he profited by the experiments of his predecessors, and he
enjoyed the advantage of a vastly improved technique; Haydn, Mozart,
Clementi, and others were the stepping-stones by which he rose to
higher things. Kuhnau's attempts at sonata writing were bold, often
rugged; and his experiments in programme-music, extraordinary. The
latter were soon forgotten, while the clever, clear-formed sonatas of
Emanuel Bach served as a gratification to the age in which he lived,
and as guides to the composers who followed him. The "Frische
Fruechte," standing between Corelli and Emanuel Bach, are of interest.
The fugal element is still strong; and we find, not so much the smooth
style of Corelli as the vigorous style of Froberger and other
composers of North Germany. In character of subject-matter and in form
there is decided advance as compared with the B flat Sonata. Kuhnau
still seems rather limited in figures, and therefore repeats
himself;[45] then again his movements do not always show gradation of
interest. Their order and number are, indeed, perplexing, and not
always satisfactory. The 2nd Sonata, in D, for instance, commences
with a fine Allegro, followed first by a short Adagio, commencing in
the relative minor, and intermixed with short presto passages, and
then by a lively movement in six-eight time. These three would form an
admirable sonata, yet the composer does not end here. There is still
another short Adagio, and a concluding movement; and in spite of some
fine passages, these appendages form a decided anti-climax. Similar
instances are to be found in the other sonatas.

Now for a few words concerning their form. Some of the opening
movements (for instance, those of Nos. 1, 2) are practically based on
fugue-form, with which, by the way, sonata-form is allied.

The first movement of No. 4, in C minor, is of interest, both in its
resemblances to, and differences from, modern sonata-form. It has
_four_ sections:--

     _a._ Eleven bars, beginning and ending in C minor, and
     containing a characteristic theme.

     _b._ Eleven bars, beginning in E flat (_i.e._ relative major
     of opening key) and closing in G minor (_i.e._ key of minor
     dominant). It contains a theme rhythmically allied to the
     principal theme. _This section is repeated._

     _c._ Nine-and-a-half bars, opening in C minor, and passing
     to, and closing in E flat. It contains imitative passages
     evolved from the principal theme.

     _d._ Exact repetition of first section, only with a close on
     the major chord.

The last movement of the 6th Sonata, in B flat, offers a still more
striking resemblance to sonata-form; the various sections are better
balanced; the middle or development section (with its close strettos)
is particularly noticeable; also the recapitulation, which is not
literal, as in the above example. The slow movements--occasionally
very short--follow no particular plan. The fugal element is always
more or less present, but some of the other movements have somewhat of
a suite character; No. 6, indeed, opens with a _Ciaccona_. There is a
certain formality about Kuhnau's music, and, for reasons already
mentioned, he is occasionally monotonous. But there is an independent
spirit running through his sonatas, and a desire to escape from the
trammels of tradition which are quite refreshing. And there is a
nobility in the style and skill in the workmanship which remind us of
the great Bach. There are, indeed, resemblances to Bach, also to
Handel. Scheibe, in his _Critischer Musikus_, mentions Kuhnau, in
conjunction with Keiser, Telemann, and Handel, as one of the greatest
composers of the eighteenth century. The mention of Kuhnau together
with Handel deserves note. The constant discoveries which are being
made of Handel's indebtedness to other composers suggest the thought
that perhaps Kuhnau was also laid under contribution. No one, we
think, can hear the "Bible" Sonatas without coming to the conclusion
that Handel was acquainted with the works of his illustrious
predecessor. We will just place side by side three passages from the
"Bible" Sonatas of Kuhnau with three from a harpsichord suite of
Handel--

[Music illustration: "Bible" Sonata, No. 2. KUHNAU.]

[Music illustration: Collection I., Suite 7, Ouverture.
HANDEL.]

[Music illustration: "Bible" Sonata, No. 6. KUHNAU.]

[Music illustration: Collection I., Suite 7, Passacaille.
HANDEL.]

[Music illustration: "Bible" Sonata, No. 6. KUHNAU.]

[Music illustration: Collection I., Suite 7, Passacaille.
HANDEL.]

It should be noticed that the three Handel quotations are all from the
same suite. We do not mean to infer that the above passages from
Handel are plagiarisms, but merely that the Kuhnau music was,
unconsciously, in his mind when he wrote them.

C.F. Becker, in his _Hausmusik in Deutschland_, has suggested that
these sonatas were known also to Mozart, and begs us to look on this
picture, the opening of a Vivace movement in Kuhnau's 6th Sonata:--

[Music illustration]

and on this, from _The Magic Flute_:--

[Music illustration]

Faisst, however, justly observes that though the harmonic basis is the
same in both, with Kuhnau the under-part is melody, whereas with
Mozart it is the reverse. He also accuses Becker--and justly, as
readers may see by turning to the passage in the _Zauberfloete_--of not
having represented the passage quite honestly. Reminiscence hunters
need to be very careful.

In these sonatas, as compared with the one in B flat, the thematic
material is of greater importance; and so, too, in the slow movements
the writing is simpler and more melodious.

The rapid rate at which they were composed deserves mention. Kuhnau
seems to have had the ready pen of a Schubert. In the preface to these
"Frische Fruechte" he says: "I wrote these seven sonatas straight off,
though attending at the same time to my duties (he was _juris
practicus_, also organist of St. Thomas'), so that each day one was
completed. Thus, this work, which I commenced on the Monday of one
week, was brought to an end by the Monday of the following week."

Kuhnau's second (and, so far as we know, last) set of sonatas bears
the following title:--

Musikalische Vorstellung
Einiger
Biblischer Historien
In 6 Sonaten
Auf dem Klavier zu spielen
Allen Liebhabern zum Vergnuegen
Verfueget
von
Johann Kuhnauen.

That is--

Musical Representation
of some
Bible Stories
In 6 Sonatas
To be performed on the Clavier
For the gratification of amateurs
Arranged
by
Johann Kuhnau.

Kuhnau was not the originator of programme-music. In the so-called
_Queen Elizabeth Virginal Book_,[46] in the Fitzwilliam Library, there
is a Fantasia by John Munday, who died 1630, in which there is given a
description of weather both fair and foul. Again, Froberger, who died
in 1667, is said to have been able, _on the clavier_, to describe
incidents, ideas, and feelings; there is, indeed, in existence a
battle-piece of his. And then Buxtehude (_d._ 1707) wrote a set of
seven Suites for clavier, in which he is said to have represented the
nature and characteristics of the planets; these are, unfortunately,
lost. With Froberger's music, at any rate, Kuhnau was familiar. In a
long preface to these Bible stories, the composer refers to the
subject of programme-music. He reminds us how from ancient times
musicians have tried to rival the masters of rhetoric, sculpture, and
painting in terms of their own art. And he expressly refers to
programme pieces, and even to sonatas by the "distinguished
Froberger[47] and other excellent composers." The essence of his long,
elaborate, and, at times, somewhat confused argument (it must be
remembered that he was discussing a very difficult subject; and, also,
that he was the first to write about it) is as follows:--He believes
music capable by itself of producing wonderful effects, but in special
cases, requiring the assistance of words. Music, he tells us, can
express sadness or joy; for that no words are necessary. When,
however, some individual--as in his sonatas--is referred to, words
become essential, _i.e._ if one is to distinguish between the
lamentation of a sad Hezekiah, a weeping Peter, or a mourning
Jeremiah. In other language, words are necessary to render the emotion
definite. Kuhnau gives a quaint illustration of the absolute necessity
of words in certain cases; and that illustration is of particular
interest, inasmuch as it points to still earlier, and possibly,
clavier sonatas. "I remember," says our author, "hearing a few years
ago a sonata composed by a celebrated Chur-Fuerst capellmeister, to
which he had given the title, 'La Medica.' After--so far as I can
recall--describing the whines of the patient and of his relations, the
running of the latter to the doctor, the pouring forth of their
sorrow, there came, finally, a Gigue, under which stood the words,
'The patient is progressing favourably, but has not quite recovered
his health.' At this some mocked, and were of opinion that, had it
been in his power, the author might well have depicted the joy at a
perfect recovery. So far, however, as I could judge, there was good
reason for adding words to the music. The sonata commenced in D minor;
in the Gigue there was constant modulation towards G minor. At the
final close, in D, the ear was not satisfied, and expected the closing
cadence in G." In this wise was the partial recovery expressed in
tones, and explained in words.

Except for the unmistakable seriousness of the author, this
description might be taken as a joke, just as in one of the "Bible"
Sonatas the deceit of Jacob is expressed by a deceptive cadence; but
such extreme examples serve to emphasise the author's declaration
that, at times, words are indispensable. Before noticing the sonatas
themselves, one more quotation in reference to the same subject must
be made from this interesting preface. The humblest scholar, Kuhnau
tells us, knows the rule forbidding consecutive perfect consonances,
and he speaks of certain strict _censores_ who expose the clumsiness
of _musical poets_ who have refused to be bound by that rule. "But,"
says Kuhnau, in lawyer-like language: "_Cessante ratione prohibitionis
cessat ipsa prohibitio_." The term _musical poets_ (the italics are
ours) is a remarkable one; Kuhnau himself, of course, was one of them.

Philipp Spitta, in his _Life of J.S. Bach_, devotes one short
paragraph to the Bible stories, and gives one or two brief quotations
from the second; but they certainly deserve a longer notice.

The 1st Sonata is entitled "The Fight between David and Goliath." It
opens with a bold section, intended, as we learn from a
superscription, to represent _the bravado of Goliath_. The giant's
characteristic theme, on which the whole section is built, is as
follows:--

[Music illustration]

Then follows a section in A minor. A Chorale represents the prayer to
God of the terrified Israelites, while the palpitating quaver
accompaniment stands for the terror which seized them at sight of the
giant; the harmonies are very striking. This Chorale setting should be
compared with one by Bach (Spitta's _Life of Bach_, English edition,
vol. i. p. 216), said to owe its existence to the influence of Georg
Boehm, organist at Lueneburg at the commencement of the eighteenth
century. Next comes a little pastoral movement (C major, three-four
time) expressive of David's courage and of his confidence in God. Then
a tone-picture is given of the encounter; the heavy tread of the
Philistine is heard in the bass, while semiquaver passages, evolved
from a figure in the preceding movement, evidently portray the
spirited youth. One realistic bar scarcely needs the explanation given
by Kuhnau that it is the slinging of the stone which smote the
Philistine in his forehead; and the same may be said of the "Goliath
falls" in the following bar:--

[Music illustration: Il combattere fra l'uno e l'altro, e la loro
contesa. Vien tirata la selce colla frombola nella fronte del
gigante. Casca Goliath.]

This section, limited to sixteen bars, is not only an early, but a
notable specimen of programme-music; it is realistic, but not in the
least ridiculous. Rapid passages with points of imitation tell of the
flight of the Philistines. A bright movement (still in C) bears the
superscription, "The joy of the Israelites at their victory"; in it
there is an allusion to the pastoral movement. Maidens then advance,
with timbrels and instruments of music, to meet the victor, and the
sonata concludes with a stately Minuet, similar in character to the
Minuet in the Overture to Handel's _Samson_; the people are dancing
and singing for joy.

The 2nd Sonata presents to us a very different picture. Here we have
the melancholy of Saul driven away by means of music. There are a few
realistic effects, such as the paroxysms of madness of Saul, and the
casting of the javelin; but the subject is one which readily lends
itself to real musical treatment. The music of the 1st Sonata was
principally objective; here, however, it is principally subjective. In
the first part of the work the music depicts, now the sadness, now the
rage of the monarch. The opening is worthy of Bach, and presents,
indeed, a foreshadowing of the opening of the 16th Prelude of the
"Well-tempered Clavier." Spitta mentions the fine fugue, with the
subject standing for the melancholy, the counter-subject for the
madness of the king; and he justly remarks that these two images of
Saul "contain the poetical germ of a truly musical development." The
"dimly brooding" theme of the fugue brings to one's mind the "Kyrie
eleison" fugue of Mozart's _Requiem_; also the theme of the Allegro of
Beethoven's Sonata in C minor (Op. 111), notwithstanding the fact that
Kuhnau's is slow and sad, but Beethoven's, fast and fiery. Here is the
first half of the former--

[Music illustration]

Let not our readers be deceived by the word "fugue." The movement is
no mere formal scholastic piece of writing such as one might expect;
the preluding of David on his harp, the "javelin" episode, the
paroxysms of rage give to it rather the character of a free fantasia.
One word with regard to the paroxysm passages. We quoted above a
sentence from the preface respecting the violation of the rule
respecting consecutive consonances by certain "poet musicians."
Kuhnau, under this plural mask, was, as we have mentioned, certainly
referring to himself, for in another part of the preface he specially
calls attention to the consecutive fifths by which he depicts the
disordered mind of King Saul. This first movement, opening in G minor,
ends on the chord of G major. We now come to a movement (B flat)
entitled "The Refreshing Melody from David's Harp." The following is
part of David's soothing theme:--

[Music illustration]

At first it is not heard in its entirety. The sweet singer of Israel
plays it, or sometimes only the first two bars, in various keys, and
with varied harmonisation, as if watching the king and trying the
effect on him of different modulations. Besides in the principal key,
it appears several times, and in succession, in the relative minor,
then in the minor key of the supertonic. The key of the subdominant
enters with refreshing effect; after that, a return is made to the
principal key, which continues until the close of the movement.
Between each delivery of the theme, occur passages similar to the
following:--

[Music illustration]

as if to denote the restlessness of the king. And as the character of
the music, especially towards the close, suggests _piano_ and
_pianissimo_, it would seem as though intended to express the gradual
healing power of the music. As a piece of abstract music, the movement
appears long, but not if the dramatic situation be kept well in mind.
At length the sounds of the harp cease, and a closing, peaceful, and
dignified movement in G minor tells of Saul's now tranquil state of
mind.

The 3rd Sonata, entitled "The Marriage of Jacob," opens with a
delightful Gigue; over it stands the superscription, "The joy of the
family of Laban at the arrival of their relation Jacob." The beginning
of the second section has, as usual, the subject inverted. The music
is gay and sparkling. Then comes a section illustrative of Jacob's
seven years' service for a wife. The music expresses effort and
fatigue, but by way of musical contrast sprightly bars intervene from
time to time, to represent happy moments when the lovers meet. Further
on we have the bridal-song of the companions of Rachel: a short,
quaint, and delicate movement in minor and in triple time. It
commences thus:--

[Music illustration]

A short section follows, full of rapid semiquaver passages and points
of imitation (such a mode of procedure is frequently adopted by the
composer); and then comes a sudden change in the character of the
music. No _tempo_ is marked, but, evidently, it must not be rapid. It
is a tone-picture of the deception practised by Laban upon Jacob when
he substituted Leah in place of Rachel. At first, it is a free
recitative. A quotation of a few bars will give a good idea of the
extraordinary harmonies and rhythmical figures:--

[Music illustration]

And again--

[Music illustration]

The Fugue, short and vigorous, has a characteristic theme:--

[Music illustration]

A new section expresses Jacob's happiness until he discovers the
deceit practised on him. The exact moment of displeasure is indicated
by a superscription; the latter, however, was scarcely necessary--the
notes speak for themselves. For there are reminiscences of the Laban
recitative, of the fugue theme, and also (in augmentation) of the
counter-subject. This is, indeed, an early instance of the employment
of representative themes. The composer then naively orders the section
descriptive of the wedding festivities to be repeated, to illustrate
the second marriage of Jacob with the beloved Rachel.

The 4th Sonata deals with Hezekiah's mortal sickness and recovery. It
is shorter than the preceding ones, and of simpler structure. It opens
with slow, sad music: the prophet of God has summoned the king to
prepare for death. His ardent prayer to heaven is naturally expressed
by a well-known Chorale, supported by most effective polyphonic
harmony. After a short thematic working of a figure from the Chorale,
the latter is submitted to fresh treatment: the movement (in six-four
time) somewhat resembles the old Corrente. The sonata concludes with a
lively movement in binary form. It is intended to depict the king's
joy at his recovery. There are a few bars _adagio_ in each section:
Hezekiah recalls the past. This is the only one of the sonatas which,
as abstract music, would be satisfactory without any programme.

No. 5 is entitled "Gideon, the Saviour of Israel." From a musical
point of view it is the least interesting of the set, yet it contains
some curious programme effects. It will be remembered that a sign
from heaven was given to Gideon: the fleece was to be covered with
dew, but the ground to remain dry; the next night, however, the order
of things was reversed. Kuhnau expresses the latter by giving a theme
in _contrary motion_. This may almost be described as punning in
music. The composer, however, meant it seriously; from the tone of his
preface, and the narration, with comments, which he has prefixed to
each sonata, in addition to the explanatory words over the music
itself, it is clear that his aim was to elucidate and intensify the
Bible stories by means of his art. He was a man, apparently, of deep
religious belief.

The battle-picture is a curiosity, but, as music, of little value. The
flight of the Midianites is depicted in the following primitive
manner:--

[Music illustration]

The 6th (and last) Sonata bears the title, "The Tomb of Jacob." We
have, at first, mournful music: the sons of the Patriarch are standing
round the deathbed. At length Jacob dies, and they "ponder over the
consequences of the sad event." A quiet, expressive theme

[Music illustration]

is then treated fugally, and with marked effect. Then comes the
journey from Egypt to the land of Canaan. The bass, progressing in
quavers, expresses motion. From time to time a curious syncopated
semiquaver figure is heard in the upper part: it may be intended to
represent sobbing. The following quotation, including one of these
"sobbing" passages, will give a good idea of the character of this
section--

[Music illustration]

A short, solemn phrase is headed, "The Burial of Israel." Then a
finely worked-out fugal section depicts the great grief of the
bystanders. It is in four parts, but in one place the addition of a
fifth part and stretto treatment render the feeling of grief more
intense. A peaceful closing section in the major key and in triple
time expresses the consoled minds of the survivors.

From this _resume_ of these "Bible" Sonatas, it will be seen that they
have nothing in common with the ordinary sonata of the time in which
they were written. They were bold attempts at programme-music; and,
as we have already said, the form is entirely determined by the
subject-matter.

In the old edition of these "Bible" Sonatas, in addition to the
preface of which we have made mention, Kuhnau has related the Bible
stories in his own characteristic language. We give a translation of
the first two, as specimens.


I. _The Combat between David and Goliath_

The portrait given in Scripture of great Goliath is something quite
uncommon: a monster of nature appears, a giant, tall as a tree. Six
ells will not suffice to measure his length; the high helmet of brass
which he wears on his head makes him appear still taller; and the
scaly coat of mail, the greaves of brass placed about his legs,
together with the enormously heavy shield which he carries, also his
strong spear, tipped with iron, like unto a weaver's beam,
sufficiently show that he is of mighty strength, and that all these
exceedingly heavy loads do not inconvenience him in the slightest. If
the mere description of this man creates fear, how much greater will
not the terror of the poor Israelites be when the living image of this
their enemy appears before them. For he stands before them in his
brazen armour, rivalling the sun in brilliancy, makes with the
rustling of his armour a terrible din, and snorts and bellows as if he
would devour them at one mouthful; his words sound in their ears like
dreadful thunder. He holds in contempt his enemies and their equipage,
and demands that a hero be sent out to him from their camp; this
combat is to show whose shoulders shall bear the yoke of bondage. By
this means he imagines that the sceptre will soon pass from the
Israelites to the Philistines. But a miracle is about to happen! When
courage fails all the heroes of Israel, when the giant has only to
show himself, to cause them to flee, when, also, the terrible warrior
continues, according to his custom, to pour contempt on the enemy,
David, a slim, courageous stripling, a simple shepherd-boy, then
appears, and offers to fight the bully. He is accused of rashness.
This, however, troubles David but little; he adheres firmly to his
heroic resolution, and seeks audience of King Saul. By God's help, he
had fought with a bear and a lion who had taken from him a lamb, had
snatched the prey from the jaws of these cruel beasts, and, further,
had slain them. Thus he hoped would end the struggle with this bear
and lion of a Philistine. Strongly relying upon God, he advances
towards the powerful giant, with a sling, and with some specially
selected pebbles. Then the Philistines think to themselves, "Now will
the great hero blow away the enemy like a speck of dust, or kill him
as he would a fly." All at once Goliath becomes terrible in his rage,
and raves, uttering frightful oaths at David, declaring that he is
treated as if he were a dog, and that David comes to him with
shepherd's staff, and not with weapons worthy of a warrior. David,
however, is fearless. He relies on his God, and prophesies to the
enemy that, though without sword, spear, or shield, he will cast
Goliath to the ground; that he will cut off his head, and leave his
carcase as food for birds and wild beasts. Hereupon David rushes at
the Philistine, wounds him in the forehead with a sharp stone cast
from his sling, so that Goliath falls to the ground. Before he has
time to rise, David, making use of his opportunity, slays him with his
own sword, and bears away from the field of battle, the hewn-off head
as a trophy of victory. As formerly the Israelites fled before the
snorting and stamping of the great Goliath, so now flee the
Philistines in consequence of the victory of young David. Thus they
give opportunity to the Israelites to pursue them, and to fill the
roads with the corpses of the slain fugitives. It is easy to imagine
how great must have been the joy of the victorious Hebrews. In proof
of it, we learn how women came forth from the cities of Judea, with
drum, fiddle, and other musical instruments, to meet the victors, and
sang alternately: "Saul hath slain his thousands, but David his ten
thousands."

Thus the sonata expresses--

1. The stamping and defying of Goliath.

2. The terror of the Israelites, and their prayer to God at sight of
the terrible enemy.

3. The courage of David, his desire to humble the pride of the giant,
and his childlike trust in God.

4. The contest of words between David and Goliath, and the contest
itself, in which Goliath is wounded in the forehead by a stone, so
that he falls to the ground and is slain.

5. The flight of the Philistines, and how they are pursued by the
Israelites, and slain by the sword.

6. The exultation of the Israelites over their victory.

7. The praise of David, sung by the women in alternate choirs.

8. And, finally, the general joy, expressing itself in hearty dancing
and leaping.


II. _David curing Saul by means of Music_

Among the heavy blows dealt to us at times by God, for holy reasons,
are to be counted bodily sicknesses. Of these one can in a real sense
say that they cause pain. Hence the invention of that physician of
Padua was by no means ridiculous, who thus represented in
picture-form, over his house-door, the various sicknesses: a man
attacked by many dogs and gesticulating wildly, through pain. To each
of these dogs was given a name, and each acted accordingly. The dog,
Gout, was biting the man's foot; the dog, Pleurisy, his loins; Stone,
his kidneys; Colic, his belly, and so on. Finally, a great sheep-dog,
representing daily fever, had thrown the man to the ground. The
inventor could easily have known (for that he did not require any
special experience) that sicknesses act upon men in a manner not less
gentle. By the exercise of patience, pain can at length be conquered,
although the soul, so intimately combined with the body, must feel it
not a little. But when the soul is attacked by sickness, patience
always gives way; for bodily, cannot in any way be compared with
mental, suffering. Inner anguish shows itself in restless gestures.
Scripture takes us into a lazaretto of such afflicted persons. Among
others, we meet with a royal and singular patient. Saul is his name.
Of him we read: "The spirit of the Lord departed from Saul, and he was
vexed by an evil spirit from the Lord." Where God is absent, and the
Evil One present, there must dwell all manner of evil. The hateful
aspect of this man in his paroxysms of pain can readily be imagined.
His eyes turn the wrong way, and sparks of fire, so to speak, dart out
one after the other; his face is so disfigured, that human features
can scarce be recognised; his heart casts forth, as it were, a wild,
stormy sea of foam. Distrust, jealousy, envy, hatred, and fear burst
forth from him. Especially does the javelin, constantly flying from
his hand, show that his heart rages fiercely with anger. To sum up:
his soul-sickness is so great that the marks of hellish tortures can
be clearly traced. At lucid intervals (_lucidis intervallis_) or quiet
hours, the tortured king realises his indescribable evil; and he
therefore seeks after a man who can cure him. But under such
extraordinary circumstances can help be hoped for? From human arts,
Saul could not expect any salvation. But God sometimes works wonders
among men. So he sends to him a noble musician, the excellent David,
and puts uncommon power into his harp-playing. For when Saul, so to
speak, is sweating in the hot bath of sadness, and David plays only
one little piece, the king is at once refreshed, and brought into a
state of repose.

Thus the sonata represents--

1. Saul's sadness and madness.

2. David's refreshing harp-playing, and

3. Tranquillity restored to the king's mind.




CHAPTER III

BERNARDO PASQUINI: A CONTEMPORARY OF J. KUHNAU


In the year 1637 was born at Massa de Valnevola (Tuscany) Bernardo
Pasquini,[48] who is said to have been one of the most distinguished
performers on the organ and also the harpsichord. He studied under
Loreto Vittori and Antonio Cesti, but his real master was evidently
Palestrina, whose scores young Bernardo studied with fervent zeal. He
was appointed organist of Santa Maria Maggiore, Rome, and, according
to the monument erected to his memory by his nephew, Bernardo
Ricordati, and his pupil, Bernardo Gaffi, in the church of San Lorenzo
in Lucina of that city, the composer was for a time in the service of
Battista, Prince Borghese. The inscription runs thus:--

"D.O.M.

"Bernardo Pasquino Hetrusco e Massa Vallis Nevolae Liberianae Basilicae
S.P.Q.R. Organedo viro probitate vitae et moris lepore laudatissimo qui
Excell. Jo. Bap. Burghesii Sulmonensium Principis clientela et
munificentia honestatus musicis modulis apud omnes fere Europae
Principes nominis gloriam adeptus anno sal. MDCCX. die XXII. Novembris
S. Ceciliae sacro ab Humanis excessit ut cujus virtutes et studia
prosecutus fuerat in terris felicius imitaretur in coelis. Bernardus
Gaffi discipulus et Bernardus Ricordati ex sorore nepos praeceptori et
avunculo amantissimo moerentes monumentum posuere. Vixit annos LXXII.
menses XI. dies XIV."

Pasquini enjoyed reputation as a dramatic composer, and the success of
an opera of his performed at the Teatro Capranica, Rome, during the
festivities in honour of Queen Christina of Sweden (1679), is
specially noted; or, according to Mendel, he wrote two successful
operas, one for the opening of the Teatro Capranica, and a second for
the festivals. He also wrote an oratorio: _La Sete di Christo_.
Pasquini died in the year 1710.

But, it will be asked, Why is he mentioned in a book which is
concerned with the sonata? It is known that he was a skilful performer
on the harpsichord, and some Toccatas and Suites of his appear to have
been published in a collection of clavier music at Amsterdam in 1704.
Fetis, in his _Biographie Universelle des Musiciens_, even states that
he wrote sonatas for _gravicembalo_. Here are his words:--

"Landsberg possedait un recueil manuscrit original de pieces d'orgue
de Pasquini, dont j'ai extrait deux toccates, composees en 1697. Ce
manuscrit est indique d'une maniere inexacte dans le catalogue de la
bibliotheque de ce professeur (Berlin, 1859) de cette maniere:
Pasquini (Bernardo) _Sonate pei Gravicembalo_ (libro prezioso). Volume
grosso _E scritto di suo (sua) mano in questo libro_. Ce meme
catalogue indique aussi de Bernard Pasquini: _Saggi di
contrapunto_--Anno 1695. Volume forte. _E scritto di suo (sua) mano in
questo libro_. Malheureusement ces precieux ouvrages sont passes en
Amerique avec toute la bibliotheque musicale du professeur Landsberg."

Whether these precious volumes actually went to America seems
doubtful. Anyhow both volumes are now safely housed in the Berlin
Royal Library. It may be mentioned that the first contains no real
sonata: its contents consist principally of suites, toccatas,
variations, and fugues.

In the story of Italian instrumental music, Pasquini is little more
than a name. The fourth volume of A.W. Ambros' _History of Music_
concludes thus:--"So ist uns von dem geruehmten Meister nichts
geblieben, als seine Name u. seine stolze Grabschrift in San Lorenzo
in Lucina." (Thus of the famous master (_i.e._ Pasquini) nothing
remains except his name and his proud monument in San Lorenzo in
Lucina). The writer of the article "D. Scarlatti," in Sir George
Grove's _Dictionary of Music and Musicians_, remarks that the famous
harpsichord player and composer "has been called a pupil of Bernardo
Pasquini." But he considers this "most improbable, seeing that
Pasquini was of the school of Palestrina, and wrote entirely in the
contrapuntal style, whereas Domenico Scarlatti's chief interest is
that he was the first composer who studied the peculiar
characteristics of the free style of the harpsichord."

Of Pasquini as a performer on the harpsichord, Mattheson relates "how
on his visit to Rome he found Corelli playing the violin, Pasquini the
harpsichord, and Gattani the lute, all in the orchestra of the
Opera-house." And, once more, in the notice of Pasquini in the same
dictionary, we are informed that the composer "exercised a certain
influence on German musicians." In C.F. Weitzmann's _Geschichte des
Clavierspiels_ there is an interesting reference to some Toccatas of
Pasquini published in "Toccates et suites pour le clavecin de MM.
Pasquini, Paglietti et Gaspard Kerle, Amsterdam, Roger, 1704." A
Toccata was published (most probably one of those in the above work)
by I. Walsh in his

Second Collection
of
Toccates, Vollentarys and Fugues
made on purpose for the
Organ and Harpsichord
Compos'd by
Pasquini, Polietti
and others
The most Eminent Foreign Authors.

Of Polietti,[49] court organist at Vienna before J.S. Bach was born,
Emil Naumann has, by the way, given an interesting account in an
article "Ein bisher unbekannt gebliebener Vorgaenger Seb. Bach's unter
den Italienern" (_Neue Berl. Mus.-Ztg._ Jahrgang 29). The Toccatas of
Pasquini, published by Roger, and a so-called "Sonata,"[50] printed by
Weitzmann in the work just referred to, constitute, we believe, all
that has hitherto appeared in print of this composer.

And yet surely Pasquini may lay claim to a place in the history of
instrumental music and the sonata, for he not only wrote suites, but
also sonatas for the harpsichord, or, to be quite exact, for two
harpsichords. Some, at any rate, of his music is to be found in the
British Museum. There are three volumes (Add. MSS. 31,501-3). On the
fly-leaf of the first is written:--

"Ad Usum Bernardi Felicij Ricordati de Baggiano in Etruria."

Then comes in pencil a note probably made when the volumes came into
the possession of the British Museum:--

"These are original MSS. by the hand of Bernardo Pasquini, 1637-1710,
the greatest organist of Italy in the second half of the 17th century,
and written for his nephew B. Ricordati. They are the only MSS. of
Pasquini known to be in Europe. This vol. is dated at the end, Dec.
3, 1704; at the beginning, May 6, 1703."

And now for its contents. The first piece is a short suite,[51]
consisting of a Tastata (the old term for Prelude), a Corrente and an
Aria; and it shows that Pasquini could write homophonic as well as
polyphonic music. Then follows a piece in the key of D major, headed

     "A due Cembali, 1704, Bernardo Pasquini,"

which consists of three movements. First one commencing with chords,
after which, fugal imitation. Next we have a fugal movement, like the
preceding one, in common time; lastly, one in six-eight time. All
three movements are in the same key. The part for each cembalo is
written on a separate stave, the one below the other. Only the bass
notes are written, and the upper parts are indicated by figures. But
this will be clearer presently, for we shall give one or more
illustrations. At the close of the six-eight movement is written
_fine_, and on the following page another piece begins in C major,
marked merely 2a, commencing thus:--

[Music illustration]

This theme reminds one of Bach's Adagio from the 2nd Organ Concerto--

[Music illustration]

or even Handel's "Along the Monster Atheist strode."[52] The movements
of this second piece are similar in structure and character to those
of the first. Next we have a piece of lighter character in two
movements, and, apparently, for one cembalo: there is, of course, only
one bass part (figured). At the commencement is merely marked _Basso
continuo_. The following piece is headed 3a Sonata (3rd Sonata). It is
in the key of D minor, and it has three movements, all in the same
key. Now, as all the pieces for _two cembali_ in the volume after this
are marked as sonatas, coupled with the fact that before this 3rd
Sonata there are two pieces for two cembali, the latter of which is
marked 2a (second), we may conclude that these two are also sonatas.
The piece for one cembalo between the 2nd and 3rd Sonatas is, as we
have remarked, of lighter character, and was possibly considered a
suite. After the 3rd Sonata comes a fourth, then a _Basso continuo_
(containing, however, by exception, more than one suite), and so on,
alternately, until the 14th Sonata is reached. Then follows the last
piece in the volume. The superscription, "For one _or_ two
cembali,"[53] leads us to believe that the preceding _Basso continuo_
numbers were intended for one cembalo. It should be stated that
movements in binary form are rare among the sonatas, frequent among
the _Basso continuo_ pieces,--another reason for considering the
latter suites.

The structure of the 3rd Sonata[54] is extremely simple. The first,
probably an Allegro moderato, opens with a bold characteristic phrase,
which is repeated in the second bar by the second cembalo; points of
imitation, in fact, continue throughout the movement. At the seventh
bar there is modulation to the dominant, and at the ninth, to the
subdominant, in which the opening theme recurs. A stately antiphonal
passage leads back to the principal key, and the movement concludes
with a cadence such as we find in many a work of Bach's or Handel's.
The Adagio opens with short phrases for each instrument alternately. A
new subject in the relative major is treated in imitative fashion.
After a return to the opening theme, also an allusion to the second
theme, a new figure is introduced, but the movement soon comes to a
close. This slow movement brings to one's mind "The Lord is a Man of
War," and the major section of the duet, "Thou in Thy Mercy," in
Handel's _Israel in Egypt_. The third movement, in structure, much
resembles the first; the music is broad and vigorous. The closing bars
suggest the stringendo passage and presto bars in the coda of the
Scherzo of the "Choral Symphony." Of course it is disappointing to
have only the bass parts for each instrument. The volume, as we have
already stated, was for the use of Ricordati, and probably the uncle
and nephew performed these sonatas together. Musicians will be able to
write out the figured basses, and thus form some idea of the music.
The figures are an outline of what was in the composer's mind; but
these basses, like those of Bach and Handel, so simple, so clear to
the composers who penned them, will always remain more or less a _crux
criticorum_. It will be noticed that the three movements, as in some
of Corelli's sonatas, are all in the same key.

We now give the opening bars of the three movements of the piece for
one or two cembali:--

[Music illustration]

All the other sonatas are more or less after the pattern of the one
given. The other two volumes contain suites, airs with variations,
arias, and a quantity of short figured basses, apparently as studies.

Before closing this short chapter we will add a word or two about
Italian music for the harpsichord at the beginning of the eighteenth
century. A recent writer remarks that "Domenico Scarlatti seems to
spring full-armed into the view of history." But his father, the
renowned opera-writer, Alessandro Scarlatti, wrote music for the
harpsichord, also his pupil, Gaetano Grieco, who succeeded him as
Professor at the Conservatorio dei poveri di Gesu Cristo (Naples) in
1717. The influence of the master can be clearly traced in the music
of the pupil; and, if one may judge from the simpler character of
Grieco's music[55] as compared with that of D. Scarlatti, he, too, was
a predecessor. Grieco is said to have been born about 1680; D.
Scarlatti was born in 1683; but this, of course, decides nothing as to
the dates of their compositions. The harpsichord music of G. Grieco
has both character and charm, and it is indeed strange that none of
his pieces have been included either in the _Tresor des Pianistes_,
the _Maitres du Clavecin_, or Pauer's Collections of old music.

This chapter is headed: "A Contemporary of Kuhnau." The latter
published all his known sonatas by the year 1700, while the dates
assigned to the Pasquini sonata volume are, as we have seen, 1703-4.
But at that time Pasquini was over sixty years of age; it is therefore
more than probable that he was really the predecessor of the German
master as a writer of clavier sonatas.




CHAPTER IV

EMANUEL BACH AND SOME OF HIS CONTEMPORARIES


Carl Phillip Emanuel, third son of J.S. Bach, was born at Weimar, 8th
or 14th March, 1714, and died at Hamburg, 14th December, 1788. He
studied composition and clavier-playing with his father. His brother,
Wilhelm Friedemann, his senior by four years, went through a similar
course, but learnt, in addition, the violin under J.G. Graun.
Emanuel's attention, however, was concentrated on the one instrument;
and to this we probably owe the numerous clavier sonatas which he
wrote, and which paved the way for those of Haydn, Mozart, and
Beethoven. In his twenty-first year (1735) Emanuel left his father's
house in order to study jurisprudence at Frankfort-on-the-Oder; three
years later, however, he went to Berlin, and as cembalist entered the
service of Frederick the Great (1740).[56] Already in his father's
house, the young student saw and heard many distinguished musicians;
he himself has told us that no musician of any note passed through
Leipzig without seeking an opportunity to meet his father, so famed as
composer and as performer on the organ and clavier. And again,
afterwards, at the Court of Prussia, he came into contact with the
most notable composers and performers of his day. From among these may
be singled out C.H. Graun (composer of the "Tod Jesu") and Georg
Benda.[57] Graun was already in the service of Frederick when the
latter was only Crown Prince.[58] It would be interesting to learn the
special influences acting upon Emanuel before he published his first
set of sonatas in 1742, but this is scarcely possible. The collection
of symphonies[59] or sonatas published at Leipzig in 1762, mentioned
in our introductory chapter, gives, however, some idea of the music
of that period; and it is possible that many of the numbers were
written before Emanuel Bach published his first works. The "Sammlung
Vermischte Clavierstuecke fuer geuebte und ungeuebte Spieler," by Georg
Benda, may also be mentioned; it is of great interest, especially the
Sonata in C minor. The character of the music and style of writing for
the instrument constantly remind one of Emanuel Bach. Benda, born in
1721, joined the King of Prussia's Band in 1742, and soon became known
as an experienced performer on the harpsichord. Unfortunately it is
impossible to ascertain the dates of composition of the various pieces
of this collection, and thus to find out whether Benda was an imitator
of Bach or _vice versa_; the collection itself was only published at
Gotha in 1780.

The Italian taste in music which prevailed at the Prussian Court[60]
had undoubtedly a marked influence on Bach, and one for good. The
severe counterpoint of the North German school and the suave melody of
the Sunny South blended together with happy results.

It is customary to speak _en bloc_ of Emanuel Bach's sonatas; if,
however, the earlier be compared with some of the later ones,
interesting differences may be detected, and developments traced. But
the composer's artistic career, unfortunately, does not show a steady,
regular advance such as we find in J.S. Bach or Beethoven. C.H.
Bitter, his biographer and enthusiastic admirer, has to confess that
he was a practical man, and that he wrote at times to please pupils
and amateurs; while, occasionally, his aim may have been pecuniary
gain.

Of his early period, we shall notice the "Sei Sonate per Cembalo,"
dedicated to Frederick II. of Prussia (1742), and the Wuertemberg
Sonatas, published in 1745. Of his middle period, the "Sechs Sonaten
fuers Clavier mit veraenderten Reprisen," Berlin, 1760, and the "Sechs
leichte Sonaten," Leipzig, 1766. And of his latter period, the six
collections of "Sonaten fuer Kenner u. Liebhaber," published at Leipzig
between 1779 and 1787. With regard, however, to the last-named, it
must be remembered that some are of a comparatively early date. Thus
the 3rd Sonata of the 3rd Collection, one of the finest of Bach's
works, was composed in 1763, while the collection itself only appeared
in 1781. But a table of dates will be given further on.

If some of the best sonatas written after 1760 be compared with those
of 1742, there will be found in the later works more character in the
subject-matter, also movements of greater length. Practice, too, had
improved the composer's style of writing. The later Bach did not
return to the principal theme in such a crude, nay, lawless, fashion
as the following:--

[Music illustration: (Frederick) Sonata 1. First Movement.]

In these "Frederick" Sonatas there is as yet no tendency to enharmonic
and other surprise modulation such as Bach afterwards displayed. Then
as to technique, we find here octaves and large chords comparatively
rare,[61] while scale passages are more restricted. Like Beethoven,
Emanuel Bach seized hold of additional notes to the keyboard. In 1742
his highest and lowest notes, apparently, were--

[Music illustration]

but afterwards--

[Music illustration]

In the introductory chapter we noted the change with regard to the
number of movements of a sonata which took place between 1683, when
Corelli published his first sonatas, and 1740, when E. Bach composed
his first set. Instances were given of sonatas in three movements by
Corelli, but with that composer _four_ was the normal number; with E.
Bach, _three_. This change came about in great measure through the
concerto. From E. Bach, we are able to show the links in the chain of
development: Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven; but though between
Kuhnau, the first writer of sonatas for the clavier, and Bach, B.
Pasquini wrote, as mentioned in the last chapter, sonatas in three
movements, yet we have no knowledge that Bach was acquainted with
them. Kuhnau, in fact, however interesting a phenomenon in the musical
firmament, is not necessary to explain the appearance of Bach. Joh.
Sebastian Bach was undoubtedly acquainted with the "Bible" Sonatas. He
must have admired them, but he may have been afraid of the freedom of
form which they displayed, and of their tendency to programme-music;
and perhaps he did not speak of them to his sons, lest they should be
led astray. For, as we have already mentioned, Sebastian Bach seems to
have yielded for a moment to the Kuhnau influence, but, if we may
judge from his subsequent art-work, he did not feel satisfied that it
was a good one.

In 1742, E. Bach dedicated the six sonatas (composed in 1740) to
Frederick the Great. The title-page runs thus:--

Sei Sonate
per Cembalo
che all' Augusta Maesta
di
Frederico II.
Re di Prussia
D.D.D.
l'Autore
Carlo Filippo Emanuele Bach
Musico di Camera di S.M.
Alle spese di Balth. Schmid
in Norimberga.

And in the obsequious dedication, the composer describes them as works
"debolissimo Talento mio." As Bach's earliest published sonatas, they
are, for our purpose, of special interest. Their order is as
follows:--

Sonata 1, in F            Poco Allegro, Andante, Vivace.
  "    2, "  B flat       Vivace, Adagio, Allegro assai.
  "    3, "  E            Poco Allegro, Adagio, Presto.
  "    4, "  C minor      Allegro, Adagio, Presto.
  "    5, "  C            Poco Allegro, Andante, Allegro assai.
  "    6, "  A            Allegro, Adagio, Allegro.

The first and last movements of all six are in binary form. In the
five major sonatas, the first sections close in the key of the
dominant, and in the one minor sonata (No. 4), in the relative major.
The opening movement of each sonata is in early sonata-form: the
second section starts with the principal theme, or a brief allusion
to it; but then, after a short development with modulation, there is a
return to the principal key and to the principal theme.[62] The final
movements, on the other hand, are of the usual _suite_ order. Of
interest and, indeed, of importance in our history of development are
the contents of the first section of the opening movements. In some of
the Scarlatti sonatas (see No. 56) there is to be found a fairly
definite second subject in the dominant key, or, in the case of a
minor piece, in the dominant minor or relative major. Here the process
of differentiation is continued; in the 2nd Sonata the contrast
between the two subjects is specially marked. We give the opening bar
of each--

[Music illustration]

In most of the developments the composer steers clear of the principal
key, so that at the return of the principal theme it may appear fresh.
To such a method, since Beethoven, we are quite accustomed; but it is
curious how little attention--even with the example of E. Bach before
him--Haydn paid to such an effective means of contrast in some of his
early sonatas. In Bach's No. 6, in A, the development assumes unusual
magnitude; it is even longer than the first section. And it is not
only long, but interesting. One passage, of which we quote a portion,
has rather a modern appearance:[63]--

[Music illustration]

The return of the principal theme is preceded by an unexpected entry
of the opening bars in B minor,--a first sign of that humour which
afterwards formed so prominent a feature in Bach's music. And the
theme itself, after the opening notes, is dealt with in original
fashion.

The middle movements of Nos. 2, 3, 5, and 6 are in the key of the
relative minor; that of No. 1 is in the tonic minor, and that of No. 4
(C minor), in the relative major. No. 1, twice interrupted by a
recitative (upper part and figured bass),[64] is dignified, yet
tender, and, in form, original. The Adagio, in C sharp minor, of No. 3
is a movement of singular charm; it is based on imitation, but, though
old in style, it breathes something of the new spirit, or rather--for
there is nothing new under the sun--of the old Florentine spirit which
freed music for a time from the fetters of polyphony. The genius of
Johann Sebastian Bach gained the victory over form, and, in fact,
exhausted fugue-form. It is in the clever, but dry fugues of some of
his contemporaries and, especially, successors, that one can feel the
absolute necessity for a new departure. This Adagio is, as it were, a
delicate remembrance, and one not unmixed with sadness, of the
composer's immortal parent.

The light, lively final movements need no description. All the music
of these sonatas is written in two or three parts or voices;
occasionally there are chord passages in which for the moment the
number is increased. We have dwelt somewhat in detail on this work, as
it appears to be little known.

There is a sonata in the key of D major, published in the 3rd
Collection (1763) of Marpurg's _Clavierstuecke_ (p. 10), by E. Bach,
which was written in the same year (1740), but earlier than the
"Frederick" Sonatas. C.H. Bitter remarks that if the year of
composition were not known, it would certainly pass as a much later
work. The first movement reminds one of Beethoven's terse, bold style.
Bitter refers to the freedom with which the thoughts are expressed, to
the melodious character of the Andante, and to the humour of the
Finale. He might also have referred to the style of writing for the
instrument, which suggests a later date.

In 1745 (?) appeared the Wuertemberg Sonatas (so called because they
were dedicated to Bach's pupil, the _Duca di Wirtemberg e Teckh_, as
he is named on the title-page of the original edition). These sonatas
are marked as Opera seconda. They were offered by the composer to the
Duke in recognition of the many favours shown to him "at the time when
I had the honour of giving you lessons in music at Berlin."[65] Of
these sonatas we have only been able to have access to the two
preserved in the British Museum; the others are probably of similar
character.

No. 1, in E flat, opens with an Adagio, followed by an Allegro assai
(E flat), and then by a Menuet alternato and Trio, both in E flat, and
with the former _da capo_. The first and second movements are in old
binary form; the Allegro shows the influence of D. Scarlatti. The
Minuet is fresh and pleasing. It is evident, taking E. Bach himself
as standard, that this is a suite rather than a sonata.

No. 2, in B flat, is of similar character and construction. Both
sonatas are old in form, but more modern in their subject-material and
style of writing than those dedicated to the King of Prussia. In the
latter there is a solidity not to be found here; in its place we have
lightness, almost merriment; they were written, one would almost
think, expressly for the amusement of the Duke. The rapid semi-quaver
passages (as in No. 1) and the crossing of hands (as in No. 2) tell in
no undecided manner of the influence of Scarlatti. The exceedingly
light and graceful Minuets remind one of the kinship between the
composer and Haydn.

In a letter to Forkel, dated 10th February 1775, Bach writes as
follows:--

"Die 2 Sonaten, welche Ihren Beyfall vorzueglich haben, sind die
einzigen von dieser Art, die ich je gemacht habe. Sie gehoeren zu der,
aus dem H-moll, die ich Ihnen mitschickte, zu der aus dem B, die Sie
nun auch haben, u. zu 2en aus der Hafner-Wuertembergischen Sammlung, u.
sind alle 6 anno 1743, im Toeplitzer Bade von mir, der ich damahls sehr
gicht-bruechig war, auf einem Claviacord mit der kurzen Octav
verfertiget."[66]

It would be interesting to know the two sonatas belonging to this
period, "the only ones of the kind that I have ever written." In the
catalogue of musical remains of E. Bach, published two years after his
death, the opening bars are given of a Sonata in B minor (see above
letter) written at Toeplitz in 1743--

[Music illustration]

This, surely, must be the one mentioned in the above letter.

In 1760, Bach published six sonatas with varied repeats (_mit
veraenderten Reprisen_), dedicated to Princess Amelia of Prussia. In
the preface the composer remarks that "nowadays change or repetition
is indispensable." He complains that some players will not play the
notes as written, even the first time; and again, that players, if the
changing on repetition is left to them, make alterations unsuitable to
the character of the music. These sonatas are of great historic
interest. This preface, also the evident necessity for additional
(inner part) notes at times, especially in the slow movements of E.
Bach and other composers of that day, make one feel that, as it now
stands, much of Bach's music is a dead letter. Here we are face to
face with a question which in a kindred matter has given rise to much
controversy. If the music is to produce its proper effect, something
must be done. To that (in the case of Emanuel Bach's sonatas) all
reasonable musicians must agree. Yet not, perhaps, as to what that
something should be. According to certain authorities, only additions
should be made which are strictly in keeping with the spirit of the
age in which the music was written. Some, on the other hand, would
bring the music up to date; they think it better to clothe
eighteenth-century music in nineteenth-century dress, than to ask
musicians with nineteenth-century ears to listen to patched-up
eighteenth-century music. The second plan would not be approved by
musicians who hold the classical masters in veneration; with a little
modification, the first one, however, ought to meet with general
acceptance. We may write in keeping with the spirit of a past age, but
the music must now be played on an instrument of different character,
compass, and quality of tone; so surely in making additions (and, so
far as certain ornaments are concerned, alterations) these things
ought to be taken into consideration. A certain latitude should,
therefore, be allowed to the transcriber; hard-and-fast rules in such
a delicate task are impossible. The late Dr. Buelow edited six of
Emanuel Bach's sonatas,[67] and though he was well acquainted with the
composer's style of writing, his anxious desire to present the music
in the most favourable light sometimes led him to make changes of
which even lenient judges would not approve. The matter is an
interesting one, and we may therefore venture to refer somewhat in
detail to one passage. In the 3rd Sonata (F minor) of the 3rd
Collection, the passage--

[Music illustration]

has been changed by Buelow: he has altered the C flat in the second
half of the first bar into a C natural, thus smoothing down the hard
progression to the key of B flat minor. Now this very passage had
already, nearly a hundred years previously, attracted the notice of
Forkel, who admitted that, apart from the context, it jarred against
his musical feeling. But he had thought over the composer's intention
in writing that sonata, and had come to the conclusion that, in the
opening Allegro, Bach wished to express indignation.[68] He therefore
asks: "Are the hard, rough, passionate expressions of an angry and
indignant man beautiful?" In this case, Forkel was of opinion that the
hard modulation was a faithful record of what the composer wished to
express.[69] The natural order of history seems inverted here. One
would have expected Forkel to look upon the music from an abstract,
but Buelow from a poetical point of view. C.H. Bitter--also on purely
musical grounds--condemns Buelow's alterations. He says:--"Even
weaknesses of great masters, among which the passages in question are
not to be counted, still more so, special peculiarities, should be
left untouched. What would become of Beethoven, if each generation of
musicians, according to individual judgment, arrogated to itself the
right, here and there, of expunging hardnesses, smoothing down
peculiarities, and softening even sharp points with which, from time
to time, we come into unpleasant contact? Works of art must be
accepted as they are."

The first part of Bitter's argument is sound; but, unfortunately for
the last, the writer in his life of Emanuel Bach and his brothers
insists on the necessity of _not_ accepting Emanuel's clavier works
_as they are_.

He quotes a passage from the Andante of the 4th Sonata of the second
set of the "Reprisen Sonaten," and comes to the natural conclusion
that it was only an outline requiring filling up.

With all his faults, one cannot but admire the spirit in which Buelow
worked. He felt the greatness of the old masters, regretted the
limited means which they had at their command, also the stenographic
system in which they were accustomed to express their thoughts; and he
sought, therefore, to make use of modern means, and thereby was
naturally tempted to introduce modern effects. The restoration of the
old masters is a difficult and delicate task, and in most cases, one
may add, a thankless one. In the matter of transcription, however, it
is important to distinguish between a Buelow and a Tausig: the one
displayed the intelligence of an artist; the other, the
thoughtlessness of a _virtuoso_.

But what, it may be asked, is the character of the changes made by
Bach? The matter is of interest; by examining these sonatas, we get
some idea of the difference between letter and spirit. However, from
what we have said above, a mere imitation of these changes, in playing
Bach's music, would, in its turn, be letter rather than spirit.

As a rule the bass remains the same, though plain crotchets may become
quavers, as in extract from Sonata 1 given below, or notes turned into
broken octaves--

[Music illustration]

or, at times, some very slight alteration may occur, such as--

[Music illustration]

In the upper parts the changes are similar to those found in the
variations of Haydn and Mozart. An illustration will be better than
any explanation, and we accordingly give a brief extract from the 1st
Sonata: first the five bars of the Allegretto, as at the opening, then
as they are changed--

[Music illustration]

The publication of the set of six Leipzig collections of sonatas,
etc., commenced in 1779; but thirteen years previously, the composer
had published a set of "Sechs Leichte Clavier Sonaten," and these, in
one or two respects, are curious. The opening movement of No. 6 has no
double bars, and, therefore, no repeat of the first section. And
again, it has a coda pausing on the dominant chord and followed by an
Andantino. This second movement, peculiar in form and modulation, ends
on the dominant of F, leading directly to the Presto.

The opening of the Larghetto of No. 2--

[Music illustration]

was probably the prototype of many a theme of the classical masters.

The works by which Emanuel Bach is best known are the six collections
of sonatas, rondos, and fantasias published at Leipzig between
1779-1787. The composer died in 1788. The 1st Collection (1779) bears
the title "Sechs Claviersonaten fuer Kenner und Liebhaber," and, in
fact, contains six sonatas. But "nebst einigen Rondos" (together with
some Rondos) was already added to the title-page of the 2nd and 3rd
Collections; and to the remaining ones, the still further addition of
"Freye Fantasien."

For the sake of reference, the list of sonatas is subjoined--

       Coll.
(1779)  1    Sonata in C                      1773  Hamburg.
        "       "    " F                      1758  Berlin.
        "       "    " B minor                1774  Hamburg.
        "       "    " A (Buelow No. 3)        1765  Potsdam.
        "       "    " F                      1772  Hamburg.
        "       "    " G (Buelow No. 4)        1765  Potsdam.
(1780)  2       "    " G                      1774  Hamburg.
        "       "    " F                      1780  Hamburg.
        "       "    " A (Buelow No. 2)        1780  Hamburg.
(1781)  3       "    " A minor                1774  Hamburg.
        "       "    " D minor (Buelow No. 5)  1766  Potsdam.
        "       "    " F minor (Buelow No. 1)  1763  Berlin.
(1783)  4       "    " G                      1781  Hamburg.
        "       "    " E minor                1765  Berlin.
(1785)  5       "    " E minor                1784  Hamburg.
        "       "    " B flat                 1784  Hamburg.
(1787)  6       "    " D                      1785  Hamburg.
        "       "    " E minor                1785  Hamburg.

Without copious musical examples, an analysis of these eighteen
sonatas would prove heavy reading. It will, therefore, be easier for
the writer, and certainly pleasanter for his readers, to give a
somewhat "freye Fantasia" description of them, laying emphasis
naturally on points connected with the special purpose in view.[70]

In the matter of tonality there are some curiosities. When Beethoven's
1st Symphony appeared, the opening bars of the introduction became
stumbling-stones to the pedagogues of that day. The work was, without
doubt, in the key of C major; yet, instead of opening with the tonic
chord of that key, the composer led up to it through the keys of the
subdominant, relative minor, and dominant. No wonder that such a
proceeding surprised conventional minds, and that the critics warned
Beethoven of the danger of "going his own way." But his predecessor,
Emanuel Bach, had also strayed from the pedagogic path, a narrow one,
yet, in the end, leading to destruction. In the first book (1779), the
5th Sonata (as shown by the whole of the movement, with exception of
the two opening bars) is in the key of F major, yet the first bar is
in C minor (minor key of the dominant) and the second, in D minor
(relative minor of the principal key).

[Music illustration]

There were, no doubt, respecters of tonality also in Emanuel Bach's
day, to whom such free measures must have seemed foolhardy. While
composing this sonata Bach was, apparently, in daring mood. The slow
middle movement in D minor opens with an inversion of the dominant
ninth, and the Finale in F thus--

[Music illustration]

Of the character of the first section of movements in binary form we
have already spoken in the introductory chapter.

In the matter of development, the Bach sonatas are in one respect
particularly striking; the composer seems to have resolutely turned
away from the fugal style, and in so doing probably found himself
somewhat hampered. Like the early Florentine reformers, Bach was
breaking with the past, and with a mightier past than the one on which
the Florentines turned their back; like them, he, too, was occupied
with a new form. Not the music itself of the first operas, but the
spirit which prompted them, is what we now admire; in E. Bach,
too,--especially when viewed in the light of subsequent history,--we
at times take the will for the deed.

We meet with much the same kinds of development as in Scarlatti:
phrases or passages taken bodily from the first section and repeated
on different degrees of the scale, extensions of phrases, and
passage-writing based on some figure from the exposition, etc. The
short development section of the Sonata in G (Collection No. 6) offers
examples of the three methods of development just mentioned. Bach,
like Scarlatti, was a master of his instrument, and even when--as was
said of Mendelssohn--he had nothing particular to say, he always
managed to say that little well. E. Bach has already much to suffer in
the inevitable comparison with Beethoven; and the fact that we have
the full message of the one, but not of the other, no doubt
accentuates the difference.

In many ways Bach reminds one of Beethoven. There are unexpected
fortes and pianos, unexpected crescendos and diminuendos. Of such, the
noble Larghetto in F minor of the Sonata in F (Collection 1779, No. 2)
offers, indeed, several fine examples. Particularly would we notice
the passage just before the return of the opening theme; it begins
_ff_, but there is a gradual decrease to _pp_; the latter seems
somewhat before its time, and therefore surprises. Then, again, we
meet with out-of-the-way modulations. Bach was extremely fond of
enharmonic transitions,[71] and the same can be said of Beethoven in
both his early and his late works. The means employed by the two
composers may be the same, but the effect is, of course, always more
striking in Beethoven, whose thoughts were deeper, and whose means of
expressing them were in every way more extended. And once again, in
some of the forms of melody, in figures and passages, traces can be
found of connection between the two masters. To our thinking the bond
of union between E. Bach and Beethoven is stronger than the
oft-mentioned one between the early master and Haydn: Haydn was
practically Bach's pupil; Beethoven, his spiritual heir. This it is
which gives interest to any outward resemblances which may be
detected, not the resemblances themselves.

In Bach's six sonatas of 1742 the movements are detached. But the
opening movement (an Andante in sonata form) of the 2nd Sonata of the
Leipzig Collection of 1779 ends with a few bars in canonic form (and
with quaint Bebung effect), leading without break to the following
Larghetto. The next sonata also connects the second with the third
movement. In the above case the change was merely from the key of
tonic major to that of minor; but here the movement is in G minor, and
an enharmonic modulation leads to the dominant of B minor, key of the
final movement. The sonata begins in B minor, and the choice of the
remote key of G minor for the middle movement is somewhat curious.
Sonata No. 4 connects first and second movements; and the third is
evidently meant to follow without pause. It must, however be
remembered that the majority of the Leipzig sonatas do not have the
various movements thus connected. It therefore seems to have been an
experiment rather than a settled plan. Examples of the connection of
movements are also to be found in Nichelmann and J.C.F. Bach. The same
thing may be seen in some of Haydn's sonatas (Nos. 18, 22, etc.),
while Beethoven offers a remarkable instance in his sonata, Op. 57.

The 1st Sonata of the 2nd Collection passes from the first to the
second movement (Allegretto, G minor; Larghetto, F sharp minor) in a
curious manner, by enharmonic means. The last bar has--

[Music illustration]