The most significant of the compositions of this period are the

Suites, which because they make up so large a percentage of _Clavier_

literature (using the term to cover the pianoforte and its

predecessors), and because they pointed the way to the distinguishing

form of the subsequent period, the sonata, are deserving of more

extended consideration. The suite is a set of pieces in the same key,

but contrasted in character, based upon certain admired dance-forms.

Originally it was a set of dances and nothing more, but in the hands

of the composers the dances underwent many modifications, some of them

to the obvious detriment of their national or other distinguishing

characteristics. The suite came into fashion about the middle of the

seventeenth century and was also called _Sonata da Camera_ and

_Balletto_ in Italy, and, later, _Partita_ in France. In its

fundamental form it embraced four movements: I. Allemande. II.

Courante. III. Sarabande. IV. Gigue. To these four were sometimes

added other dances--the Gavotte, Passepied, Branle, Minuet, Bourrée,

etc.--but the rule was that they should be introduced between the

Sarabande and the Gigue. Sometimes also the set was introduced by a

Prelude or an Overture. Identity of key was the only external tie

between the various members of the suite, but the composers sought to

establish an artistic unity by elaborating the sentiments for which

the dance-forms seemed to offer a vehicle, and presenting them in

agreeable contrast, besides enriching the primitive structure with new

material. The suites of Bach and Handel are the high-water mark in

this style of composition, but it would be difficult to find the

original characteristics of the dances in their settings. It must

suffice us briefly to indicate the characteristics of the principal

forms.

[Sidenote: _The Allemande._]

The Allemande, as its name indicates, was a dance of supposedly German

origin. For that reason the German composers, when it came to them

from France, where the suite had its origin, treated it with great

partiality. It is in moderate tempo, common time, and made up of two

periods of eight measures, both of which are repeated. It begins with

an upbeat, and its metre, to use the terms of prosody, is iambic. The

following specimen from Mersenne's "Harmonie Universelle," 1636, well

displays its characteristics:

[Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _Iambics in music and poetry._]

Robert Burns's familiar iambics,

"Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon,

How can ye bloom sae fair?

How can ye chant, ye little birds,

And I sae fu' o' care!"

might serve to keep the rhythmical characteristics of the Allemande in

mind were it not for the arbitrary changes made by the composers

already hinted at. As it is, we frequently find the stately movement

of the old dance broken up into elaborate, but always quietly

flowing, ornamentation, as indicated in the following excerpt from the

third of Bach's English suites:

[Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _The Courante._]

The Courante, or Corrente ("Teach lavoltas high and swift corantos,"

says Shakespeare), is a French dance which was extremely popular in

the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries--a polite dance,

like the minuet. It was in triple time, and its movement was bright

and brisk, a merry energy being imparted to the measure by the

prevailing figure, a dotted quarter-note, an eighth, and a quarter in

a measure, as illustrated in the following excerpt also from Mersenne:

[Music illustration]

The suite composers varied the movement greatly, however, and the

Italian Corrente consists chiefly of rapid running passages.

[Sidenote: _The Sarabande._]

The Sarabande was also in triple time, but its movement was slow and

stately. In Spain, whence it was derived, it was sung to the

accompaniment of castanets, a fact which in itself suffices to

indicate that it was originally of a lively character, and took on its

solemnity in the hands of the later composers. Handel found the

Sarabande a peculiarly admirable vehicle for his inspirations, and one

of the finest examples extant figures in the triumphal music of his

"Almira," composed in 1704:

[Sidenote: _A Sarabande by Handel._]

[Music illustration]

Seven years after the production of "Almira," Handel recurred to this

beautiful instrumental piece, and out of it constructed the exquisite

lament beginning "_Lascia ch'io pianga_" in his opera "Rinaldo."

[Sidenote: _The Gigue._]

[Sidenote: _The Minuet._]

[Sidenote: _The Gavotte._]

Great Britain's contribution to the Suite was the final Gigue, which

is our jolly and familiar friend the jig, and in all probability is

Keltic in origin. It is, as everybody knows, a rollicking measure in

6-8, 12-8, or 4-4 time, with twelve triplet quavers in a measure, and

needs no description. It remained a favorite with composers until far

into the eighteenth century. Shakespeare proclaims its exuberant

lustiness when he makes _Sir Toby Belch_ protest that had he _Sir

Andrew's_ gifts his "very walk should be a jig." Of the other dances

incorporated into the suite, two are deserving of special mention

because of their influence on the music of to-day--the Minuet, which

is the parent of the symphonic scherzo, and the Gavotte, whose

fascinating movement is frequently heard in latter-day operettas. The

Minuet is a French dance, and came from Poitou. Louis XIV. danced it

to Lully's music for the first time at Versailles in 1653, and it soon

became the most popular of court and society dances, holding its own

down to the beginning of the nineteenth century. It was long called

the Queen of Dances, and there is no one who has grieved to see the

departure of gallantry and grace from our ball-rooms but will wish to

see Her Gracious Majesty restored to her throne. The music of the

minuet is in 3-4 time, and of stately movement. The Gavotte is a

lively dance-measure in common time, beginning, as a rule, on the

third beat. Its origin has been traced to the mountain people of the

Dauphiné called Gavots--whence its name.

[Sidenote: _Technique of the Clavier players._]

[Sidenote: _Change in technique._]

The transferrence of this music to the modern pianoforte has effected

a vast change in the manner of its performance. In the period under

consideration emotionality, which is considered the loftiest attribute

of pianoforte playing to-day, was lacking, except in the case of such

masters of the clavichord as the great Bach and his son, Carl Philipp

Emanuel, who inherited his father's preference for that instrument

over the harpsichord and pianoforte. Tastefulness in the giving out of

the melody, distinctness of enunciation, correctness of phrasing,

nimbleness and lightness of finger, summed up practically all that

there was in virtuosoship. Intellectuality and digital skill were the

essential factors. Beauty of tone through which feeling and

temperament speak now was the product of the maker of the instrument,

except again in the case of the clavichord, in which it may have been

largely the creation of the player. It is, therefore, not surprising

that the first revolution in technique of which we hear was

accomplished by Bach, who, the better to bring out the characteristics

of his polyphonic style, made use of the thumb, till then considered

almost a useless member of the hand in playing, and bent his fingers,

so that their movements might be more unconstrained.

[Sidenote: _Bach's touch._]

[Sidenote: _Handel's playing._]

[Sidenote: _Scarlatti's style._]

Of the varieties of touch, which play such a rôle in pianoforte

pedagogics to-day, nothing was known. Only on the clavichord was a

blow delivered directly against the string, and, as has already been

said, only on that instrument was the dynamic shading regulated by the

touch. Practically, the same touch was used on the organ and the

stringed instruments with key-board. When we find written praise of

the old players it always goes to the fluency and lightness of their

fingering. Handel was greatly esteemed as a harpsichord player, and

seems to have invented a position of the hand like Bach's, or to have

copied it from that master. Forkel tells us the movement of Bach's

fingers was so slight as to be scarcely noticeable; the position of

his hands remained unchanged throughout, and the rest of his body

motionless. Speaking of Handel's harpsichord playing, Burney says that

his fingers "seemed to grow to the keys. They were so curved and

compact when he played that no motion, and scarcely the fingers

themselves, could be discovered." Scarlatti's significance lies

chiefly in an extension of the technique of his time so as to give

greater individuality to the instrument. He indulged freely in

brilliant passages and figures which sometimes call for a crossing of

the hands, also in leaps of over an octave, repetition of a note by

different fingers, broken chords in contrary motion, and other devices

which prefigure modern pianoforte music.

[Sidenote: _The sonata._]

That Scarlatti also pointed the way to the modern sonata, I have

already said. The history of the sonata, as the term is now

understood, ends with Beethoven. Many sonatas have been written since

the last one of that great master, but not a word has been added to

his proclamation. He stands, therefore, as a perfect exemplar of the

second period in the scheme which we have adopted for the study of

pianoforte music and playing. In a general way a sonata may be

described as a composition of four movements, contrasted in mood,

tempo, sentiment, and character, but connected by that spiritual bond

of which mention was made in our study of the symphony. In short, a

sonata is a symphony for a solo instrument.

[Sidenote: _Haydn._]

When it came into being it was little else than a convenient formula

for the expression of musical beauty. Haydn, who perfected it on its

formal side, left it that and nothing more. Mozart poured the vessel

full of beauty, but Beethoven breathed the breath of a new life into

it. An old writer tells us of Haydn that he was wont to say that the

whole art of composing consisted in taking up a subject and pursuing

it. Having invented his theme, he would begin by choosing the keys

through which he wished to make it pass.

"His exquisite feeling gave him a perfect knowledge of the

greater or less degree of effect which one chord produces

in succeeding another, and he afterward imagined a little

romance which might furnish him with sentiments and colors."

[Sidenote: _Beethoven._]

[Sidenote: _Mozart's manner of playing._]

Beethoven began with the sentiment and worked from it outwardly,

modifying the form when it became necessary to do so, in order to

obtain complete and perfect utterance. He made spirit rise superior to

matter. This must be borne in mind when comparing the technique of the

previous period with that of which I have made Beethoven the

representative. In the little that we are privileged to read of

Mozart's style of playing, we see only a reflex of the players who

went before him, saving as it was permeated by the warmth which went

out from his own genial personality. His manipulation of the keys had

the quietness and smoothness that were praised in Bach and Handel.

"Delicacy and taste," says Kullak, "with his lifting of the

entire technique to the spiritual aspiration of the idea,

elevate him as a virtuoso to a height unanimously conceded

by the public, by connoisseurs, and by artists capable of

judging. Clementi declared that he had never heard any one

play so soulfully and charmfully as Mozart; Dittersdorf

finds art and taste combined in his playing; Haydn

asseverated with tears that Mozart's playing he could never

forget, for it touched the heart. His staccato is said to

have possessed a peculiarly brilliant charm."

[Sidenote: _Clementi._]

[Sidenote: _Beethoven as a pianist._]

The period of C.P.E. Bach, Haydn, and Mozart is that in which the

pianoforte gradually replaced its predecessors, and the first real

pianist was Mozart's contemporary and rival, Muzio Clementi. His chief

significance lies in his influence as a technician, for he opened the

way to the modern style of play with its greater sonority and capacity

for expression. Under him passage playing became an entirely new

thing; deftness, lightness, and fluency were replaced by stupendous

virtuosoship, which rested, nevertheless, on a full and solid tone. He

is said to have been able to trill in octaves with one hand. He was

necessary for the adequate interpretation of Beethoven, whose music is

likely to be best understood by those who know that he, too, was a

superb pianoforte player, fully up to the requirements which his last

sonatas make upon technical skill as well as intellectual and

emotional gifts.

[Sidenote: _Beethoven's technique._]

[Sidenote: _Expression supreme._]

Czerny, who was a pupil of Beethoven, has preserved a fuller account

of that great composer's art as a player than we have of any of his

predecessors. He describes his technique as tremendous, better than

that of any virtuoso of his day. He was remarkably deft in connecting

the full chords, in which he delighted, without the use of the pedal.

His manner at the instrument was composed and quiet. He sat erect,

without movement of the upper body, and only when his deafness

compelled him to do so, in order to hear his own music, did he

contract a habit of leaning forward. With an evident appreciation of

the necessities of old-time music he had a great admiration for clean

fingering, especially in fugue playing, and he objected to the use of

Cramer's studies in the instruction of his nephew by Czerny because

they led to what he called a "sticky" style of play, and failed to

bring out crisp staccatos and a light touch. But it was upon

expression that he insisted most of all when he taught.

[Sidenote: _Music and emotion._]

More than anyone else it was Beethoven who brought music back to the

purpose which it had in its first rude state, when it sprang

unvolitionally from the heart and lips of primitive man. It became

again a vehicle for the feelings. As such it was accepted by the

romantic composers to whom he belongs as father, seer, and prophet,

quite as intimately as he belongs to the classicists by reason of his

adherence to form as an essential in music. To his contemporaries he

appears as an image-breaker, but to the clearer vision of to-day he

stands an unshakable barrier to lawless iconoclasm. Says Sir George

Grove, quoting Mr. Edward Dannreuther, in the passages within the

inverted commas:

[Sidenote: _Beethoven a Romanticist._]

"That he was no wild radical altering for the mere pleasure

of alteration, or in the mere search for originality, is

evident from the length of time during which he abstained

from publishing, or even composing works of pretension, and

from the likeness which his early works possess to those of

his predecessors. He began naturally with the forms which

were in use in his days, and his alteration of them grew

very gradually with the necessities of his expression. The

form of the sonata is 'the transparent veil through which

Beethoven seems to have looked at all music.' And the good

points of that form he retained to the last--the 'triune

symmetry of exposition, illustration, and repetition,' which

that admirable method allowed and enforced--but he permitted

himself a much greater liberty than his predecessors had

done in the relationship of the keys of the different

movements, and parts of movements, and in the proportion of

the clauses and sections with which he built them up. In

other words, he was less bound by the forms and musical

rules, and more swayed by the thought which he had to

express, and the directions which that thought took in his

mind."

[Sidenote: _Schumann and Chopin._]

It is scarcely to be wondered at that when men like Schumann and

Chopin felt the full force of the new evangel which Beethoven had

preached, they proceeded to carry the formal side of poetic

expression, its vehicle, into regions unthought of before their time.

The few old forms had now to give way to a large variety. In their

work they proceeded from points that were far apart--Schumann's was

literary, Chopin's political. In one respect the lists of their pieces

which appear most frequently on recital programmes seem to hark back

to the suites of two centuries ago--they are sets of short

compositions grouped, either by the composer (as is the case with

Schumann) or by the performer (as is the case with Chopin in the hands

of Mr. Paderewski). Such fantastic musical miniatures as Schumann's

"Carnaval" and "Papillons" are eminently characteristic of the

composer's intellectual and emotional nature, which in his university

days had fallen under the spell of literary romanticism.

[Sidenote: _Jean Paul's influence._]

[Sidenote: _Schumann's inspirations._]

While ostensibly studying jurisprudence at Heidelberg, Schumann

devoted seven hours a day to the pianoforte and several to Jean Paul.

It was this writer who moulded not only Schumann's literary style in

his early years, but also gave the bent which his creative activity in

music took at the outset. To say little, but vaguely hint at much, was

the rule which he adopted; to remain sententious in expression, but

give the freest and most daring flight to his imagination, and spurn

the conventional limitations set by rule and custom, his ambition.

Such fanciful and symbolical titles as "Flower, Fruit, and Thorn

Pieces," "Titan," etc., which Jean Paul adopted for his singular

mixtures of tale, rhapsody, philosophy, and satire, were bound to find

an imitator in so ardent an apostle as young Schumann, and, therefore,

we have such compositions as "Papillons," "Carnaval," "Kreisleriana,"

"Phantasiestücke," and the rest. Almost always, it may be said, the

pieces which make them up were composed under the poetical and

emotional impulses derived from literature, then grouped and named. To

understand their poetic contents this must be known.

[Sidenote: _Chopin's music._]

[Sidenote: _Preludes._]

Chopin's fancy, on the other hand, found stimulation in the charm

which, for him, lay in the tone of the pianoforte itself (to which he

added a new loveliness by his manner of writing), as well as in the

rhythms of the popular dances of his country. These dances he not only

beautified as the old suite writers beautified their forms, but he

utilized them as vessels which he filled with feeling, not all of

which need be accepted as healthy, though much of it is. As to his

titles, "Preludes" is purely an arbitrary designation for

compositions which are equally indefinite in form and character;

Niecks compares them very aptly to a portfolio full of drawings "in

all stages of advancement--finished and unfinished, complete and

incomplete compositions, sketches and mere memoranda, all mixed

indiscriminately together." So, too, they appeared to Schumann: "They

are sketches, commencements of studies, or, if you will, ruins, single

eagle-wings, all strangely mixed together." Nevertheless some of them

are marvellous soul-pictures.

[Sidenote: _Études._]

[Sidenote: _Nocturnes._]

The "Études" are studies intended to develop the technique of the

pianoforte in the line of the composer's discoveries, his method of

playing extended arpeggios, contrasted rhythms, progressions in thirds

and octaves, etc., but still they breathe poetry and sometimes

passion. Nocturne is an arbitrary, but expressive, title for a short

composition of a dreamy, contemplative, or even elegiac, character. In

many of his nocturnes Chopin is the adored sentimentalist of

boarding-school misses. There is poppy in them and seductive poison

for which Niecks sensibly prescribes Bach and Beethoven as antidotes.

The term ballad has been greatly abused in literature, and in music is

intrinsically unmeaning. Chopin's four Ballades have one feature in

common--they are written in triple time; and they are among his finest

inspirations.

[Sidenote: _The Polonaise._]

Chopin's dances are conventionalized, and do not all speak the idiom

of the people who created their forms, but their original

characteristics ought to be known. The Polonaise was the stately dance

of the Polish nobility, more a march or procession than a dance, full

of gravity and courtliness, with an imposing and majestic rhythm in

triple time that tends to emphasize the second beat of the measure,

frequently syncopating it and accentuating the second half of the

first beat:

[Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _The Mazurka._]

National color comes out more clearly in his Mazurkas. Unlike the

Polonaise this was the dance of the common people, and even as

conventionalized and poetically refined by Chopin there is still in

the Mazurka some of the rude vigor which lies in its propulsive

rhythm:

[Music illustration] or [Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _The Krakowiak._]

The Krakowiak (French _Cracovienne_, Mr. Paderewski has a fascinating

specimen in his "Humoresques de Concert," op. 14) is a popular dance

indigenous to the district of Cracow, whence its name. Its rhythmical

elements are these:

[Music illustration] and [Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _Idiomatic music._]

[Sidenote: _Content higher than idiom._]

In the music of this period there is noticeable a careful attention on

the part of the composers to the peculiarities of the pianoforte. No

music, save perhaps that of Liszt, is so idiomatic. Frequently in

Beethoven the content of the music seems too great for the medium of

expression; we feel that the thought would have had better expression

had the master used the orchestra instead of the pianoforte. We may

well pause a moment to observe the development of the instrument and

its technique from then till now, but as condemnation has already been

pronounced against excessive admiration of technique for technique's

sake, so now I would first utter a warning against our appreciation of

the newer charm. "Idiomatic of the pianoforte" is a good enough phrase

and a useful, indeed, but there is danger that if abused it may bring

something like discredit to the instrument. It would be a pity if

music, which contains the loftiest attributes of artistic beauty,

should fail of appreciation simply because it had been observed that

the pianoforte is not the most convenient, appropriate, or effective

vehicle for its publication--a pity for the pianoforte, for therein

would lie an exemplification of its imperfection. So, too, it would be

a pity if the opinion should gain ground that music which had been

clearly designed to meet the nature of the instrument was for that

reason good pianoforte music, _i.e._, "idiomatic" music, irrespective

of its content.

[Sidenote: _Development of the pianoforte._]

In Beethoven's day the pianoforte was still a feeble instrument

compared with the grand of to-day. Its capacities were but beginning

to be appreciated. Beethoven had to seek and invent effects which now

are known to every amateur. The instrument which the English

manufacturer Broadwood presented to him in 1817 had a compass of six

octaves, and was a whole octave wider in range than Mozart's

pianoforte. In 1793 Clementi extended the key-board to five and a half

octaves; six and a half octaves were reached in 1811, and seven in

1851. Since 1851 three notes have been added without material

improvement to the instrument. This extension of compass, however, is

far from being the most important improvement since the classic

period. The growth in power, sonority, and tonal brilliancy has been

much more marked, and of it Liszt made striking use.

[Sidenote: _The Pedals._]

[Sidenote: _Shifting pedal._]

[Sidenote: _Damper pedal._]

Very significant, too, in their relation to the development of the

music, were the invention and improvement of the pedals. The shifting

pedal was invented by a Viennese maker named Stein, who first applied

it to an instrument which he named "Saiten-harmonika." Before then

soft effects were obtained by interposing a bit of felt between the

hammers and the strings, as may still be seen in old square

pianofortes. The shifting pedal, or soft pedal as it is popularly

called, moves the key-board and action so that the hammer strikes only

one or two of the unison strings, leaving the other to vibrate

sympathetically. Beethoven was the first to appreciate the

possibilities of this effect (see the slow movement of his concerto in

G major and his last sonatas), but after him came Schumann and Chopin,

and brought pedal manipulation to perfection, especially that of the

damper pedal. This is popularly called the loud pedal, and the

vulgarest use to which it can be put is to multiply the volume of

tone. It was Chopin who showed its capacity for sustaining a melody

and enriching the color effects by releasing the strings from the

dampers and utilizing the ethereal sounds which rise from the strings

when they vibrate sympathetically.

[Sidenote: _Liszt._]

[Sidenote: _A dual character._]

How to Listen to Music, 7th ed. Hints and Suggestions to Untaught Lovers of the Art · 第 8 / 15 段