After this adagio comes the second theme group, just as the second

theme in the restatement section of the classical sonata form.

Finally there is a coda, in lively tempo, a rondo built upon three

themes, the first two of which are taken from the adagio. The broad

closing section brings back the opening theme of all, in major. The

ending is very simple and quiet.

Hence we have one huge movement in sonata form, our old familiar

exposition, with its first and second themes and its transitional

passages; its development--in which a scherzo is incorporated; its

restatement of both themes--with a new transitional passage between

them in the shape of an adagio--and its broad, completing coda. The

mind of a man has conceived it; and the mind of man can comprehend it.

The harmonies are often hideous, though no note in the entire quartet

is without a logical justification in the new grammar. On the other

hand, there are moments of ineffable beauty. Whatever the outcome,

there can be no denying that the quartet has entered here upon a new

stage, far removed from all other music. Only time can tell whether

this is an advance, and then only by showing new work when this shall

have proved itself a foundation on which to build.

Schönberg has since written another quartet (1907-8). It is not only

shorter as a whole than the earlier one, but is divided by pauses into

four separate movements. There is, however, a thematic relationship

between all four; and the third movement--_Litanie_--occupies in the

scheme the place of a _Durchführung_, a variation and weaving together

of all the previous themes.

The first movement begins and ends in F-sharp minor, and there are two

distinct themes: the opening theme (first violin), and, after a broad

ritard, a second theme (first violin, _sehr ausdrucksvoll_). The time

is measured yet often free. After a development of the two themes there

is a _fermata_, and then a restatement of them; so that on the whole

the movement is not difficult to follow, though the second half is

complex and long.

The second movement (_sehr rasch_) is in the nature of a wild scherzo.

The rhythmical motive with which it starts (cello, pianissimo) recalls

the now ancient style of Wagner. There is no precedent for the

following figure (second violin), which is one of the chief elements in

this fantastical movement. It is taken up by viola immediately, while

both violins present at the same time two equally important motives,

one of which is a sort of syncopated shadow of the other. Then, _etwas

langsamer_, the first violin and viola give out yet a fourth motive (in

octaves) and out of these four, with many less audible, a cacophonous,

spiteful tangle of sounds ensues. There is a Trio section (_etwas

rascher_), and a return of the Scherzo. There is a short coda, _sehr

rasch_, all instruments in unison (or octaves) until the last measures.

Then the cello beats out the opening rhythmical figure, fortissimo, on

D, the first violin shrieks G-C-sharp over and over again, the viola

and second violin fall together through unheard of intervals. There is

a hush, a roar, and a hush--a pizzicato note--unison--silence.

Both the third and the fourth movements bring in a soprano voice.

The words are from Stephan George;[81] the titles: _Litanei_ and

_Entrückung_. Here Schönberg has gone beyond the string quartet, and

here properly we may leave him. The instruments are busy during the

_Litanei_ with motives from the first and second movements. The voice

is independent of them. There is enormous dramatic force in the climax

at the words:

_Wacht noch ein Schrei

Töte das Sehnen...

Schliesse die Wunde!

Nimm mir die Liebe

Gieb mir dein Glück._

In the last movement there is no appreciable form. There is no harmony,

i.e., no regular sequence of keys, though the end falls on a common

chord. Even the melody has gone on into a new world.

Schönberg’s style is fundamentally polyphonic, and is in that regard

fitting to the quartet. In the use of harmonics and pizzicato he stands

a little ahead of his contemporaries. If we can follow Schönberg in his

new conception of form and harmony, we should indeed be reactionary if

we hesitated longer to admit harmonics and pizzicato into the category

of effects proper to quartet music. Moreover, the examples offered by

such exquisite masterpieces as the quartets of Tschaikowsky, Debussy

and Ravel must give to such procedures the sanction of good usage. That

Schönberg’s material is symphonic in character only goes to prove that

the whole question of form and style is at the present day one which no

man can definitely answer.

But having admitted the influence of modern virtuosity and of the

modern love of sensuous tone coloring into the realm of the string

quartet, we face a new idea of the combination of the four instruments

of one type. The old idea of the quartet was given fullest expression

in the quartets of Beethoven. In the expression of that idea little

progress has since been possible. The changes that have come have made

of the quartet something like a chamber symphony in which effects of

solid sound and of brilliant and pronounced colors predominate, music

that has salt for the senses as well as meaning for the spirit. Hence

it has lost that traditional quality of abstractness, which was pure

and unalloyed, and has become poignant, fiery, pictorial or dramatic.

We hear in it now the strumming of wild zithers, now the beat of savage

drums, madness and ecstasy, chords that are plucked, chords that float

in air, even confusion and riot of sound. The four instruments still

remain, but the old idea of the quartet has become lifeless or has

passed from among the present ideals of men.

FOOTNOTES:

[75] The date is fixed by a fragment of the autograph found in 1901.

See Richard Heuberger: _Franz Schubert_.

[76] See Max Kalbeck: _Johannes Brahms_, Vol. II, part 2, p. 442.

[77] Kalbeck has called attention to the resemblance between these

two motives and the _Erda-motif_ and the _Walhalla-motif_ in _Das

Rheingold_ and _Die Walküre_.

[78] See William Ritter: _Smetana_. Paris, 1907.

[79] From the New World.

[80] See Schönberg’s own analysis in _Die Musik_, June 2, 1907.

[81] _Der siebente Ring._

CHAPTER XVIII

THE PIANOFORTE AND OTHER INSTRUMENTS IN CHAMBER MUSIC

The trio--Pianoforte quartets and quintets--Sonatas

for violoncello and piano--The piano with wind

instruments--Chamber music for wind instruments by the great

composers.

The pianoforte has always played an important part in chamber music,

if, indeed, the best pianoforte music may not itself be considered

chamber music. Few instrumental works were written during the

seventeenth century in which the harpsichord was not supposed to

furnish a foundation of harmony, or was not expected to contribute

more specifically to the texture of the music. The concertos and

sonatas of Corelli and Vivaldi, of Bach and Handel, of Couperin and

Rameau, of Purcell; all these were founded upon a figured bass, to be

played by harpsichord, lute or viol, or contained a part written for

the harpsichord. The figured bass gradually dropped out of music as

composers gained skill to manage their combinations of instruments

sonorously. Out of this skill grew up the orchestra, and, in the

realm of chamber music, the string quartet. But meanwhile composers

were developing a great technique in writing for the harpsichord, so

that it came little by little wholly to supplant the lute, and to win

a distinguished, independent place of its own as a solo instrument.

There are concertos of Bach and Couperin in which the harpsichord

plays almost as brilliant a part as in the modern concerto, and the

violin sonatas of Bach are virtually in the style of trios, because the

harpsichord is treated always as adding two parts to the one of the

violin. Finally, the modern trio really grew up around the harpsichord

or the pianoforte.

I

The trios of the seventeenth century--the _Sonate a tre_--were written

for three concertizing instruments and a figured bass, really four

parts in all. During the eighteenth century the word trio took on

quite a different significance and was applied to compositions written

for the harpsichord with _one_ other solo instrument, violin, oboe,

or flute, like the violin sonatas of Bach. Vaguely at the time of the

young Haydn, clearly when Mozart entered the world of music, the word

took on the meaning that it still holds today: a composition written

for three instruments, pianoforte, violin and cello. If another

combination of instruments is meant, then those instruments are usually

specifically designated in the title of the work.

The Haydn Trios are of little importance. There are thirty-five in

all, and it has been said that the majority were written for a patron

who played the cello a very little. Hence one finds the cello part in

this combination to be merely a duplication of the bass part of the

pianoforte, having little independent movement of its own; and the

works are rather sonatas with violin than trios.

Mozart, on the other hand, treated the combination with a fine sense

of the effects that could be made with it. He gave to each of the

three instruments a free line of its own, and made fine use of the

possibilities of tonal contrast and color. There are eight trios in

all. They are not representative of Mozart’s best, though there is not

one in which Mozart’s inimitable grace is lacking; but in spite of

their slenderness they may be considered the first pianoforte trios in

the modern sense, and to have set the model for subsequent works in

that form.

These are not very numerous, if one excludes from them a great number

of fantasias or popular operas such as were written by Woelfl, Nicholas

Lomi and other composers of the virtuoso type. Nor does the form show

much development except that which accompanies an improvement in

pianofortes and a progress in technical skill on all these instruments.

Only a few trios stand out conspicuously as having high musical worth,

or as having been a worthy expression of genius.

There are eight trios by Beethoven. Of these three were published

as opus 1, and hardly show an advance over the trios of Mozart, if

indeed they do not fall considerably short of them in point of finish

and style. Two were not published in his lifetime, and one of these

is only a fragment, a single movement in B-flat major, composed in

June, 1812, for Maximilian Brentano. There are, then, but three that

are representative of the mature Beethoven, two published as opus

70, and one, in B-flat major, opus 97, dedicated to his favorite

pupil, the Archduke Rudolph. The writing for the three instruments is

especially clear in the first allegro of opus 70, No. 1, a lively,

vivacious movement in D major. The slow movement of this trio is rather

remarkably scored for the pianoforte, which is almost constantly

engaged in tremolos, strange broken trills, and runs. The last movement

is full of Beethoven’s humor, very distinctly in the swing of a

folk-song. Throughout there is much brilliant work for the piano, and

a ceaseless witty interchange between the other two parts. There is

an extraordinary pedal point before the return to the first section,

which is just touched upon at the end. The second of this pair of

trios is not less brilliantly arranged for the three instruments. The

variations in the second movement are finer than the variations in the

earlier works. There is folk-song again in the third movement, a smooth

_allegretto_ in A-flat major. Both trios are extraordinarily clear and

happy in mood.

The trio opus 97 is one of the biggest of Beethoven’s works. The

contents are more symphonic than those of his other trios, and recall

something of the spirit of the quartets of opus 59. There is, indeed,

a marked similarity between the opening theme of this trio and that

of the quartet opus 59, No. 1, especially in the broad line of the

melody. Yet though on the whole the effect of this great trio may be

orchestral, there are not lacking measures of finest style, like those

which follow the second theme in the first movement, with the touch

or two of delicate imitation, then the soft melody of the cello with

the dainty scale on the pianoforte, and then the cello and violin in

octaves, with the scales on the pianoforte becoming more and more

active and noisy. Immediately after, it is all cleverly changed about;

the strings have those lively scales and the pianoforte the melody. The

scoring of the whole Scherzo, too, is especially in trio style, and may

well be taken as a model. The andante and variations, and even more the

last movement, are, however, hardly in the style of chamber music, and

the vigorous passion of the ideas in them does considerable violence to

the essentially delicate combination.

The combination is without doubt one of the most difficult to treat

with success, partly because the pianoforte may be very easily led to

overpower its fellow instruments, partly because notes in the lower

ranges of the cello have so little carrying quality that except in

very soft passages they cannot be heard in the combination. It must be

said that the general development in pianoforte technique did much to

overthrow the balance and adjustment so charming in the trios of Mozart

and in those of opus 70 by Beethoven. Between Beethoven’s last trio,

opus 97, and the trios of Brahms there is hardly a single one that does

not suffer from maladjustment.

The two trios of Schubert, opus 99, in B-flat, and opus 100 in E-flat,

are full of inspiration, and Schubert’s fancy is so delicate that

on the whole he may be said to have succeeded with the combination.

Certainly the little canon which forms the Scherzo in the second trio

is a masterpiece of style. Also the announcement of the chief theme in

the first trio and the way in which it is developed cannot be found

fault with; nor is the charming D-flat section in the finale less

perfect. But in the scherzo there are rather weak accompaniments scored

for the strings in the orchestral manner of double stops, and there are

similar passages at the beginning of the transition to the second theme

in the first movement of the second trio. These are here acceptable

because of the sheer beauty of the material which is thus presented;

but one cannot deny that this would find even lovelier expression with

a group of three strings. In the _Andante con moto_ the impropriety of

style is more evident; but one will forgive anything in this inspired

movement, which later is to stand like a shadow behind the _Marcia_ in

Schumann’s great pianoforte quintet.

Mendelssohn wrote two trios, one in D minor, one in C minor, which,

after having for years been favorites with players and public alike,

are now sinking out of sight. In these the treatment of the pianoforte

is brilliant; and though it may not be said to overbalance the strings,

it certainly outshines them. Mention should be made of Marschner’s trio

in G minor, opus 110, because it so clearly influenced Schumann in his

own quartet in A minor. Five trios of Spohr’s were once well known, but

they represent no change or development either in style or form; and

even that in E minor, opus 119, which has been prized almost to the

present day because of its melodiousness, is fast being abandoned.

Schumann’s trios--in D minor, opus 63, in F major, opus 80, and in G

minor, opus 110--have at any rate a beauty of inspiration. They are

romantic and poetic as his other works are, and the warmth of them is

sufficient to melt a cold criticism. That in D minor is perhaps the

best, and the scherzo, especially the middle section of it, with its

smooth theme looking forward to the trio in Brahms’ first pianoforte

sonata, is admirable in style.

The three trios of Brahms are masterpieces. The first, opus 8, in B

major, was an early work and was revived years later and republished in

the form in which it is now generally familiar. But even in its revived

shape it is inferior to the two later trios, in C major, opus 87, and

in C minor, opus 101, though the opening theme is of a haunting beauty,

and the scherzo, suggesting that in Beethoven’s opus 97, is in piquant

and effective style.

In the first movement of the C major trio the violin and cello seem

like two noble and equal voices throughout. Their course is bold and

free. They are never overshadowed by the pianoforte. It seems to be

largely Brahms’ treatment of the cello that makes these works so

perfectly satisfying in sound and style. He showed always a fondness

for deep low notes. Sometimes his music suffers from it. But here,

in these trios, it gains immensely. For, as we have said, one of the

greatest difficulties of writing in good style for this combination of

instruments is to be met in handling the low notes of the cello. Brahms

seems to have done it almost instinctively. From the beginning of the

first movement, with its full-throated octaves, to the very end of the

whole, the cello never for one measure fails to equal the violin in

effectiveness. Very often they are made to play together in octaves,

and in places, as in the course of the second theme, they hold long

notes two octaves apart, defining the sonority so to speak, within the

limits of which the piano moves alone, filling the wide space with

richest sound. Again, at the beginning of the _Andante con moto_ violin

and cello are two octaves apart. He combines them in bold chords which

challenge the pianoforte, assert their own independence, as here, not

long before the middle section of this _andante_, or at the beginning

of the trio in C minor, opus 101. He allows one fully to support the

other without the pianoforte, as in the _Andante Grazioso_ of the C

minor. All through these truly magnificent works one is struck by the

comradeship and equality of the two strings, and this, together with

the way the pianoforte is adapted to them, leads us to say that there

are no trios so perfect in style as these two of Brahms. It might even

be added that it would be hard to match them in nobility of content.

Mention may be made here of two other trios by Brahms in which he has

shown himself no less a master of the difficult task of combining

three instruments of utterly different qualities and range. One of

these is the famous trio in E-flat, opus 40, for piano, violin and

horn. The horn may, it is true, be interchanged with cello or viola,

but only at the cost of the special tone color which makes the work

such a favorite. The other is the trio for pianoforte, clarinet, and

cello, a work which, together with the masterly quintet for clarinet

and strings, opus 115, is proof of Brahms’ admiration for the clarinet

playing of Professor Mühlfeld. Both these trios are almost unique in

their perfection.

One is at a loss to mention more trios which are at all comparable to

those of Brahms. It is in the main true that the pianoforte finally

took such complete possession of the trio that trios were no more

than brilliant concert sonatas or concertos. The Russians, headed

by Rubinstein, have written many trios. Rubinstein’s, as might be

expected, were far too brilliant for the pianoforte. Tschaikowsky’s

only trio, opus 50, written to the memory of Nicholas Rubinstein, is

one of his most impassioned works. Whatever improprieties of style

there may be, its emotional force cannot be resisted. He admitted a

fear that, having all his life written for the orchestra, he might not

have adapted the musical combination to his thoughts. Yet in spite of

the general orchestral style of treatment, this trio remains one of the

most moving of all chamber music compositions.

Also among Russian trios may be mentioned that by Arensky in D minor,

which is wholly delightful. The swing of the first theme in the first

movement is impelling, and the whole scherzo with its touch here and

there of waltz rhythms, and the fleet scales on the keyboard, are

effective. Paul Juon’s capricious fantasia on ‘Gösta Berling’ is

interesting.

Dvořák’s trios are worthy of study. Of the three--in G minor, opus 26,

in F minor, opus 65, and the Dumky, opus 90--the last two are the most

interesting, and also the most Bohemian in character. The treatment

of the pianoforte is brilliant. At times the cello is used a little

unworthily, that is to say, merely to accentuate low notes or to add a

sort of barbaric strumming; yet on the whole Dvořák’s treatment of the

two strings is not very unlike that of Brahms. There is a great deal

of octave playing between them, notably at the very beginning of opus

65, in the second section of the allegretto, and now and then in the

various sections of the Dumky. The cello is given long and impassioned

solos, or takes a full part with the violin in dialogues. On the whole

Dvořák makes more use of the upper registers; but again, in the manner

of Brahms, he knows how to use the low without concealing it beneath

the heavier tone of the piano. The whole section, _vivace non troppo_,

which follows the first _poco adagio_, is excellently scored for the

three instruments. Notice how at first the cello holds a low C-sharp,

supporting the light melody of the violin and the light staccato

accompaniment of the piano; how as the music grows more furious the

cello adds a G-sharp above its C-sharp. When at last the piano breaks

into the melody, violin and cello take equal parts in the series of

sharp, detached chords which accent its rhythm. Again the melody is

given to the violin, an octave higher than at first, and the cello

gives an accompaniment of single notes and chords, while between the

two the piano plays the whirlwind. After all this subsides, the cello

rises up from the deep in a broad solo cadenza. It must be granted that

the musical value of the notes allotted to the cello in this section

is not high; but the point is the admirable spacing of the three

instruments which allows each to display a peculiar sonority and all

to join in a rich and exceedingly animated and varied whole. Elsewhere

in these trios there is a fine polyphonic style. Much of the vitality

of the music comes from the vivid nature of the national rhythms and

melodies out of which it is constructed. These trios, then, are hardly

comparable to the classic trios of Brahms. Yet they seem to be the most

effective and the most successful trios that have been written since

Beethoven, with the exception only of Brahms’ two and Tschaikowsky’s

one.

The French composers have not given much attention to the trio. César

Franck’s first works were three short trios, but they are without

conspicuous merit. Two trios by Lalo are pleasingly scored. Among

the trios of Saint-Saëns that in E-flat major, opus 18, is the most

effective. The pianoforte part is especially brilliant, yet does not

throw the combination out of adjustment.

II

There are more brilliant and more distinguished works for the

combination of pianoforte, violin, viola, and cello. Inasmuch as one

of the difficulties in writing trios is the wide spaces between the

natural registers of cello and violin, and this is here filled up by

the viola, the pianoforte quartets of the last fifty years maintain a

higher standard than the trios. Moreover the general effect is more

satisfactory, because the three strings have naturally an independent

and complete life, and are more equal to withstanding the onslaughts of

the pianist.

The Schumann pianoforte quartet in E-flat, opus 47, is practically

the first work in this form of importance, and it has remained

unexcelled in beauty and romantic fervor. As to style, one notices in

the very first measures the fullness and completeness of the parts

for the strings, and throughout the entire work the effect of the

three stringed instruments is very like that of a string quartet. In

the scherzo and in the opening sections of the finale as well even

the piano is treated as a single part in a quartet, not as a sort of

foundation or a furnisher of harmonies and accompaniments to the others.

The Schumann piano quintet, opus 44, is even more famous than the

quartet. Here the problem is still simpler, for the piano quintet is

but a combination of two independent groups: the full string quartet

and the pianoforte. The piano must still be handled with care else it

will overpower its companions; but the complete resources of the four

strings make possible contrasts between them and the piano, measures

in which the piano may be quite silent, and others in which it less

fills up the harmony than adds its own color to the sonority. The

first broad section of the development in the first movement becomes,

therefore, almost a pianoforte concerto; whereas other sections like

the second trio in the scherzo are in the nature of a concerto for

string quartet and orchestra. In the beginning of the last movement the

strings are treated too much in an orchestral manner. There is no trace

of the fineness of the quartet which should never quite disappear in

this big combination. Later on the strings, however, are handled with

the greatest delicacy, as in the fugal parts before the last fugue.

Here, where the theme of the first movement comes back into the music

with splendor, there is perfection of style. But whatever may be the

technical merits or faults of this quintet as a quintet, as music it is

inspired from beginning to end.

From the time of Schumann, who may be said to have left the model and

set the standard for all subsequent pianoforte quartets and quintets,

our history will find not more than twenty such works upon which to

touch with enthusiasm. Among the quartets those of Brahms and Dvořák,

and that in C-minor, opus 15, by Gabriel Fauré stand out conspicuously.

Brahms wrote three pianoforte quartets, one in G minor, opus 25,

one in A major, opus 26, and one in C minor, opus 70. Of these the

first two are the best known and the most obviously pleasing. There

is a great deal of Hungarian atmosphere here and there in both,

specifically in the final movement of the first, which is a _Rondo alla

Zingarese_. But both quartets were written before Brahms went to live

in Vienna. Both may be taken as representative of Brahms first grown

to maturity, and both are rather delicately and unusually colored.

In the Intermezzo of the G minor quartet the violin is muted though

the other strings are not. In the beginning of the _poco adagio_ of

the second quartet all the strings are muted while the piano plays

_a tre corde_, not, as might be expected, _una corda_. Later in this

movement there are arpeggio passages for the pianoforte, _una corda_,

giving a strange effect like wind over a plain, one that Brahms was

particularly fond of, if we may judge by the frequency with which

he employed it. Here in this quartet, and in the _andante_ of the

earlier one, and in the slow movement of the first concerto one finds

it. The scoring of the first part of the second quartet is considered

admirable by Mr. Fuller-Maitland; but other places may be selected

equally beautifully arranged for the combination. The scoring of a sort

of secondary theme in the first movement (E major), first for strings

alone, then for pianoforte, carrying the melody, and strings, adding

their peculiar colors, rolling figures for the cello and pizzicato for

the upper strings, is exquisite. Greater, however, than all technical

arrangements is the quality of the themes themselves. This has made

both works greatly beloved among amateurs and artists alike.

The third Brahms’ quartet is less pleasing. The first movement was

written as early as 1855. It is morbid and gloomy in character and

indeed Brahms is said to have suggested to Hermann Deiters that he

should imagine, while listening to it, a young man about to kill

himself for lack of occupation. Of the same movement Dr. Billroth, one

of Brahms’ most intimate friends, said that it was an illustration in

music of Goethe’s Werther on his death bed, in his now famous buff and

blue. The cello solo in the slow movement and the scherzo in general

are more loveable.

The pianoforte quintet in F minor, opus 34, is one of Brahms’ greatest

compositions. It was published in 1865, but not until it had gone

through a rather complicated birth. Brahms had written it first as a

quintet for strings alone--with two cellos. This was unsatisfactory.

The themes were so powerful that Clara Schumann suggested even that he

re-write it for orchestra. He next arranged it, however, as a sonata

for two pianos; and indeed published it in this form a few years after

he had published it in the form in which it is now best known, as a

pianoforte quintet. The technical details are flawless, and to speak

of them is almost to attract attention to an art which is greatest in

concealment. It is far rather the broad themes, the massive structure,

reënforced and held together by every device known to composers,

the exalted sentiment of the slow movement, the powerful rhythms of

the scherzo, that give this quartet its undisputed place among the

masterpieces of music.

The two pianoforte quartets by Dvořák, opus 23, in D, and opus 87,

in E-flat, have the same perfection of style and animation of manner

that we have already noticed in the trios. The strings are handled

with discriminating touch. There is something clear and transparent in

the style, for all the impetuous, highly rhythmical, and impassioned

material. And the effectiveness of the pianoforte in the combination

is truly astonishing, considering how relatively simple it all is. In

the first movement of the quartet in D, for example, the duet that is

half canon between the cello and piano in the statement of the second

theme, and shortly after, following a two measure trill, the almost

Mozartian figuration given to the pianoforte while the strings develop

the possibilities within this second theme; the magical scoring at the

return of the first theme, which here, as at the beginning, is given in

the middle registers of the cello, being thus made both melody and rich

bass beneath the almost laughably simple figures for the pianoforte;

these alone in one movement are instances of a wholly delightful style.

In the second quartet the style is more powerful but not the less

clear. There is a splendid incisiveness in the first complete statement

of the first theme, following the impetuous run of the pianoforte.

Here are violin and viola in unison, the cello spreading richness

through the bass with its wide swinging figures, and the piano adding

a brilliance by means of commonplaces which are here delightful. Later

on there is a long passage scored in a favorite way of Dvořák’s. The

cello is given the low foundation notes, which are complemented by the

viola, both instruments playing pizzicato. The violin has a melody

which follows the figuration of the pianoforte, here of the simplest

kind, but floating as it were in mid-air over the foundation tones of

the cello. There are many passages in the third movement, similarly

arranged, the pianoforte part being without a bass of its own, the

whole fabric supported by the low notes of the cello.

The quintet, opus 84, in A major, is not less effectively scored. The

pianoforte part is perhaps a little more brilliant as a whole than

in the quartets, quite properly so because of the added force in the

strings. In the second movement we have another _Dumka_, with its wild,

passionate changes, and for a scherzo there is a _Furiant_, another

touch of Bohemia.

In French chamber music with pianoforte no work is so great as the

quintet in F minor by César Franck. It is fit to stand with the

symphony, the string quartet, even the Beatitudes of this master, as

a perfect and broad expression of his remarkable genius. The very

beginning makes us aware that we are to hear a work made up of two

independent groups of sound. There is the string quartet, with its

passionate announcement of the chief, or one of the chief, ideas of

the piece. Then there is the hushed reply of the piano, offering

another idea out of which much is to grow. And, so interchanging,

the two groups play out the introduction. The material of all three

movements is decidedly symphonic, and the resources of this combination

of instruments are taxed to the extreme. In a great part of the work

they maintain a decided independence, now answering each other as in

the statement of the first allegro motive, now asserting themselves

against each other, as very clearly throughout a large part of the last

movement where the figuration of the pianoforte is as distinct as a

theme and the four instruments play another theme against it in unisons

and octaves.

Indeed the use of unison and octave passages for the strings is

conspicuous in every movement, as if only by so combining the quartet

could maintain its own against the pianoforte. Notice this in the great

E minor passage of the development section in the first movement.[82]

Here is music of greatest and stormiest force. Franck has scored the

accompaniment in the heaviest registers of the pianoforte, and is yet

able to bring out his theme clearly above and his desired thunder

by joining all the instruments in the statement of it. Notice the

unisons, too, in the climax before the return of the chief motive,

how the strings make themselves heard, not only above a brilliant

accompaniment, but actually against another theme, given with all the

force of the piano. Only in the statement of the second theme in the

third section of the movement does the piano join with the strings.

Immediately after these follows another tremendous passage in which

only by joining together can the strings rise above the thunderous

accompaniment of the piano.

The result is, indeed, more a symphony than a pianoforte quintet, and

the style is solid and massive in effect. Franck’s polyphonic skill is,

however, revealed at its very best, and his special art of structure,

building all the movements out of a few ideas common to all, is not

less striking here than it is in the ‘Prelude, Chorale and Fugue’ for

the pianoforte alone. This quintet, with those of Schumann and Brahms,

represents the uttermost it is possible to produce with the combination

of string quartet and pianoforte. Schumann’s is the most lucid, Brahms’

the most vigorous, and Franck’s the most impassioned and dramatic of

all the pianoforte quintets.

Yet there are other brilliant and successful quintets to be noticed.

A quintet in D minor, opus 89, by Gabriel Fauré was performed for the

first time in Paris, in 1906. Fauré had already composed two pianoforte

quartets, one in C minor, opus 15, and one in G minor, opus 25. In

these he had shown himself a master of style in the combination of

pianoforte with strings, and such mastery is no less evident in the

quintet. The latter is more modern in spirit and in harmonies. There

are three movements: a _molto moderato_, an _adagio_, and an _allegro

moderato_. Of these the first is gloomy in character, and the second

is elegiac. The third is founded upon a single figure which is varied

again and again. The treatment of the piano is in the main light, so

that the instrument does not overpower the strings. Notice how the

piano opens the work with a sort of curtain of sound, against which

the instruments enter one by one. Most of this background is light,

being arranged for the upper registers of the piano. Throughout the

whole first movement the piano seldom takes part in the thematic

development, but almost always contributes a lightly flowing sound. In

the adagio, too, there is much of the same style. There is a middle

section here in which all the instruments, including the piano, always

in the upper registers, are lightly combined into a canonic flow which

is wholly exquisite in style. The motives so treated return in a sort

of apologue at the end of this movement but are not here so delicately

treated. In the last movement the piano takes a much greater part

in the development of the themes. It announces at once the motive

which, _passacaglia_-wise, is used as the foundation for the whole

movement. The odd spacing--the two hands are two octaves apart--gives

a peculiarly shadowy effect in which the pizzicatos of the other

instruments make themselves heard as sparks may be seen in mist. The

whole movement is a masterpiece of delicacy.

Other quintets have been written by composers of most of the nations

of Europe, but none has made more than a local impression. There is a

quintet by Goldmark, opus 30, in B-flat, hardly worth mentioning; a

more brilliant one by one of the younger Bohemian composers, V. Novàk

(b. 1870), which in its intense nationalism is a fitting descendant

of Smetana and Dvořák, but is lacking in personal inspiration; a

quintet by Ernst von Dohnányi. Sgambati has written a quintet without

distinction. Mr. Dunhill tells us in his book[83] on chamber music

that there is an excellent quintet by a young British composer, James

Friskin. Moreover the sextet for piano and strings by Joseph Holbrooke,

in which a double bass is added to the quartet, deserves mention. And

among American composers Arthur Foote and George Chadwick should be

mentioned, the one for his quintet in A minor, opus 38, the other for

his quintet in E-flat major, without opus number.

Only a few piano quartets have been written since those of Brahms and

Dvořák which are significant of any development or even of a freshness

of life. Those of Fauré have already been mentioned as being perfect in

style, but on the whole they seem less original and less interesting

than the quintet by the same composer. Saint-Saëns’ quartet, opus 41,

is remarkable for the brilliant treatment of the pianoforte, and the

fine sense of instrumental style which it reveals, but is on the whole

uninteresting and is certainly insignificant compared with the quartets

of Fauré or those of d’Indy and Chausson. D’Indy’s quartet, opus 7,

in A minor is no longer a new work, nor does it show in any striking

way those qualities in French music which have more recently come to

splendid blooming. But it is carefully wrought and the three movements

are moderately interesting. The second is perhaps the best music, the

third is certainly the most spirited. There is more of the manner

though perhaps less of the spirit of César Franck in Chausson’s quartet

in A major, opus 30.

In the North we come across an early work by Richard Strauss, opus

13, in the form of a pianoforte quartet, which is exceedingly long,

but interesting to the student who wishes to trace the development of

Strauss’ art of self-expression. The pianoforte is not given undue

prominence and the scoring is worthier of more interesting material.

Still farther north one meets with Christian Sinding’s quartet in E

minor, which is chiefly a _tour de force_ for the pianist.

Excepting sonatas for pianoforte and various other instruments, the

great amount of chamber music into which the piano enters consists of

trios, pianoforte quartets and pianoforte quintets. Mention must not be

omitted, however, of Schubert’s quintet for piano and strings in which

the cello is replaced by double bass. The employment of the air of

one of his songs (_Die Forelle_) as the subject for the variations in

the slow movement has given the work the name _Forellen Quintet_. The

treatment of the piano in the variations is exceedingly effective.

III

As to sonatas, those for violin and piano are treated elsewhere.

There are too many to be discussed in this chapter. There are fewer

for the cello and the best of these may here be mentioned. Skill in

playing the violoncello was slower to develop than that in playing the

violin. This was probably because the _viola da gamba_ with its six

strings was easier to play and was more in favor as a solo instrument.

The _baryton_ was a kind of _viola da gamba_ with sympathetic strings

stretched under the fingerboard, and even as late as the maturity

of Haydn this instrument was in general favor. But the tone of the

_viola da gamba_ was lighter than that of the violoncello, and so by

the beginning of the eighteenth century the cello was preferred to

the _gamba_ for the bass parts of works like Corelli’s in concerted

style. Little by little it rose into prominence from this humble

position. Meanwhile the immortal suites for the violoncello alone by

Bach had been written. Bach was probably advised in the handling of the

instrument by Abel, who was a famous _gamba_ player; so that it seems

likely that these suites were conceived for the _gamba_ as much as for

the cello.[84] The last of them, however, was written especially for

the _viola pomposa_, an instrument which Bach invented himself. This

was a small cello with an extra string tuned to E, a fifth above the A

of the cello.

Among composers who wrote expressly for the cello were Giorgio

Antoniotti, who lived in Milan about 1740, and Lanzetti, who was

'cellist to the king of Sardinia between 1730 and 1750. Later the

Italians A. Canavasso and Carlo Ferrari (b. 1730) became famous as

players, and Boccherini also was a brilliant cellist.

However, the cello sprang into its present importance as a solo

instrument largely through the Frenchman Jean Louis Duport (1749-1819),

whose understanding of the instrument led him to a discovery of those

principles of fingering and bowing which have made modern virtuosity

possible. His _Essai sur le doigter du violoncelle et la conduite de

l’archet_ was truly an epoch-making work. That a new edition was issued

as recently as 1902 proves the lasting worth and stability of his

theories.

Frederick William II, King of Prussia, to whom Mozart dedicated three

of his string quartets, was a pupil of Duport’s. Mozart’s quartets,

written with an eye to pleasing the monarch, give special prominence to

the cello. Hence through Duport we approach the great masters and their

works for the cello.

Beethoven wrote five sonatas for cello and piano. The first two,

opus 5, were written in 1796, while Beethoven was staying in Berlin,

evidently with the intention of dedicating them to Frederick William

II, and for his own appearance in public with Duport. They are

noticeably finer, or more expressive works, than the early sonatas for

violin, opus 12; perhaps because the cello does not suggest a style

which, empty of meaning, is yet beautiful and effective by reason of

sheer brilliance. The violin sonatas, all of them except the last, are

largely virtuoso music. The cello sonatas are more serious and on the

whole more sober. This may be laid to thoroughly practical reasons. The

cello has not the variety of technical possibilities that the violin

has, nor even in such rapid passages as can be played upon it can it

give a brilliant or carrying tone. By reason of its low register it

can be all too easily overpowered by the piano. Only the high notes

on the A string can make themselves heard above a solid or resonant

accompaniment. Hence if the composer desires to write a brilliant,

showy sonata for pianoforte and cello, he can do so only by sacrificing

all but the topmost registers of the cello. Even at that the piano is

more than likely to put the cello wholly in the shade.

To write effectively for the combination, therefore, and in such a way

as to bring out the variety of resources of the cello, limited as they

may be, one must not write brilliantly, but clearly, in a transparent

and careful style. Of such a style these early sonatas of Beethoven

offer an excellent example, though the music itself sounds today

old-fashioned and formal.

The best of the first sonata, which consists of a long slow

introduction, an _allegro_, and an _allegro vivace_, all in F major, is

the last movement. This is in mood a little scherzo, in form a rondo.

Particularly the chief subject is delightfully scored for the two

instruments at the very opening. The second sonata, in G minor, begins

like the first with a long slow introduction, in which the piano has

some elaborate figuration. There follows an _allegro molto_, rather

a _presto_, in 3/4 time, the opening theme of which has almost the

spontaneous melodiousness of Schubert. The pianoforte has a great deal

of work in triplets, which are high on the keyboard when the cello is

playing in its lower registers, and only low when the cello is high

enough to escape being overpowered. This constant movement in triplets

will remind one of the first pianoforte sonata. The final rondo is on

the whole less effective than the rondo of the first sonata. Toward the

end, however, there is considerable animation in which one finds cello

and piano taking equal share. The piano has for many measures groups of

rapid accompaniment figures against which the cello has saucy little

phrases in staccato notes. Then the cello takes up the rolling figures

with great effect and the piano has a capricious and brilliant melody

in high registers.

The next sonata, opus 69, in A major, was not written until twelve

years later. A different Beethoven speaks in it. The first theme,

announced at once by the cello alone, gives the key to the spirit of

the work. It is gentle (_dolce_) in character, but full of a quiet

and moving strength. After giving the first phrase of it alone the

cello holds a long low E, over which the piano lightly completes it.

There is a cadenza for piano, and then, after the piano has given the

whole theme once again, there is a short cadenza for cello, leading to

a short transition at the end of which one finds the singing second

theme. This is first given out by the piano over smooth scales by the

cello, and then the cello takes it up and the piano plays the scales.

Nothing could be more exquisite than the combination of these two

instruments in this altogether lovely sonata, which without effort

permits each in turn or together to reveal its most musical qualities.

Sometimes the cello is low and impressive, strong and independent,

while the piano is lively and sparkling, as in the closing parts of

the first section of the first movement. Again the cello has vigorous

rolling figures that bring out the fullest sonority the instrument

is capable of, while the piano adds the theme against such a vibrant

background, with no fear of drowning the cello, as in the first

portions of the development section.

The scherzo is the second movement, and here again each instrument is

allowed a full expression of its musical powers. The style is light,

the rhythm syncopated. There is fascinating play at imitations. And in

the trio the cello plays in rich double-stops. There is but a short

adagio before the final allegro, only a brief but telling expression

of seriousness, and then the allegro brings to full flower the quiet,

concealed, so to speak, and tranquil happiness of the first movement.

Finally there are two sonatas, opus 102, which are in every way

representative of the Beethoven of the last pianoforte sonatas and even

the last quartets. The first of these--in C major--Beethoven himself

entitled a ‘free sonata,’ and the form is indeed free, recalling the

form of the A major pianoforte sonata, opus 101, upon which Beethoven

was working at the same time. In spirit, too, it is very like the A

major sonata, but lacks the more obvious melodic charm. The sonata

begins with an andante, in that singing yet mystical style which

characterizes so much of Beethoven’s last work, and the _andante_

does not end but seems to lose itself, to become absorbed in a mist

of trills, out of which there springs a vigorous _allegro vivace_,

in the dotted march rhythm which one finds in the later pianoforte

sonatas. After this, a short rhapsodical adagio brings us back to a

bit of the opening andante, which once more trills itself away, seems

to be snuffed out, as it were, by a sudden little phrase which, all

unexpected, announces the beginning of the final rondo.

The second of the two, in D major, is more regular in structure. There

is an _allegro con brio_ in clear form, an _adagio_, and a final fugue,

following the adagio without pause. In both these sonatas every trace

of the virtuoso has disappeared. Both are fantasies, or poems of hidden

meaning. Because of this mysteriousness, and also because the lack of

all virtuoso elements seems to leave the combination a little dry, the

sonatas are not quite so satisfactory as the opus 69.

Besides the sonatas Beethoven wrote three sets of variations for cello

and piano, only one of which--on the air _Ein Mädchen oder Weibchen_

from Mozart’s ‘Magic Flute’--has an opus number. These are early works

and are without special interest or value.

It is remarkable how little chamber music has been written for

pianoforte and cello by subsequent composers. By Schumann there is only

a set of five short pieces, _in Volkston_, opus 102. Some of these are

charming, but all are, of course, slight. Schumann uses the cello in

very high registers, notably in the first, third, and fourth. In the

second part of the third he even writes sixths for the cello in such

high registers. The low registers are rather neglected, so that the set

is monotonous in color.

Mendelssohn wrote some _Variations concertantes_, opus 17, for piano

and cello, and two sonatas, opus 45 in B-flat, and opus 58 in D. The

piano predominates in the variations. The second and fourth are hardly

more than piano solos; but in others the cello is effectively handled.

The third, the fifth with its pizzicato, which, by the way Mendelssohn

stood in a fair way to overwhelm entirely by a noisy piano, and the

eighth, with its long held note, later its wide rolling figures and

powerful sixths, account in a measure for the wide popularity which

this work once enjoyed among cellists. But the life has gone out of

it. Of the sonatas little can be said but that they are generally well

scored, and that they display the qualities of the cello in its various

registers. The piano is less well treated, for Mendelssohn had, after

all, little instinct for a variety of pianoforte effects. The theme

in the last movement of the first sonata has something of a vigorous

swing. The chief theme of the first movement of the second sonata, too,

though it will irritate those to whom Mendelssohn’s mannerisms have

become distressing, has a breadth of line, and rises up quite manfully

to its high point. But the second theme rather proves that there

can be too much of a good thing. The allegretto is not dangerously

fascinating, but it has a sort of charm. Mendelssohn’s treatment of

the cello is generally suited to the salon. He brings out many of its

qualities, but in a way which seems to accentuate the shortcomings of

the instrument. In his hands the cello is a sentimental singer with a

small voice.

With Brahms the cello is more an instrument of mystery and gloom.

His fondness for low notes here causes him to write constantly for the

two lower strings, and his sonatas may suffer in the opinion of some

by the lack of a more vehement expression which is in some measure

possible to the upper strings. The first sonata, opus 38, is in E minor

and is more acceptable to the unfamiliar ear than the later one in F

major, opus 99. But the tone of the great part of the E minor sonata is

gloomy, though the second theme of the first movement has warmth and

the _allegretto quasi menuetto_ a certain light movement. The F major

sonata was probably written with the playing of Robert Hausmann (b.

1852) in mind. Mr. Fuller-Maitland finds in it a ‘mood of wild energy

such as is not frequent in Brahms’ later works.’ For all the gloominess

of the first and the sternness of the second of these sonatas there is

a splendid dignity in both which must ever give them a firm place in

the literature for the violoncello. It may be that they lose in grace

because Brahms has so carefully shunned any brilliant display; but on

the other hand what they lose in grace is more than made up by what

they gain in virility. The sentimental qualities in the cello have been

so much emphasized that without these sonatas of Brahms, and those of

Beethoven, one might well believe that it had none other than a sugary

voice.

[Illustration]

Great Violoncellists: Jean Gerardi, David Popper, Pablo Casals.

Among more modern sonatas only two stand out with any prominence. One

of these is by Grieg. It is in A minor, full of passion and swing. No

doubt it owes its prominence to the charm of the Norwegian material out

of which Grieg has made it. There are incisive rhythms that make one

aware of the strength of the cello. The piano is a little too prominent

in certain parts. Grieg has favored its brilliance. But nevertheless

the sonata is a manly and refreshing work.

A sonata for cello and piano in F major, opus 6, by Richard Strauss

has been gratefully adopted by cellists. Musically it is neither

profound nor interesting, though there is no lack of technical skill,

as in the fugal parts of the first movement, and though there are

some passages of great beauty. The second theme of the first movement

is what one might call luscious; there is a glorious theme in the

last movement contrasting with the light motives which generally

predominate; and the climax of the slow movement is passionate. The

pianoforte is not well handled, and there is a sameness in rhythms; but

the balance between the two instruments is remarkably well kept. In the

development of second theme material in the first movement there are

passages in which the cello is made boldly and passionately to sing,

and the use of its very low notes in the climax of the slow movement,

as well as the light figures in the last, leave no doubt as to the

variety which is in spite of all possible to it.

There remains only to mention the sonata by Max Reger, opus 78, two

sonatas by Emanuel Moór, one by Guy Ropartz in G minor, two by Camille

Saint-Saëns, opus 32 and opus 123, as among those which make a partial

success of the extremely difficult combination.

If excellent music for cello and piano is so rare, music for the viola

and piano is almost entirely wanting. The two instruments do not go

well together. Practically the only example of the combination in the

works of the great masters is furnished by Schumann’s _Märchenbilder_,

which are but indifferent music. York Bowen, an English composer, has

considered it worthy of the sonata, and has written two for it, one in

C minor and one in F major. Mr. Benjamin Dale has also written some

agreeable pieces, including a suite and a fantasy.

IV

There are relatively few works also in which the piano has been

combined with wind instruments. The wind instruments which have been

most employed in chamber music are the flute, oboe, clarinet, and

bassoon. Occasionally there is a short bit for horn, or for English

horn, and rarely something for trumpet or saxophone. No special

combination of these instruments either by themselves or with the piano

has obtained signal favor, and we may therefore confine ourselves to

mentioning with brief notice the various works of the great masters

in turn. We will include likewise here their chamber works for wind

instruments without pianoforte.

Of Haydn’s works we will only mention the two trios for flute and

violin and the octet for two oboes, two clarinets, two horns and two

bassoons. Most of Mozart’s works for wind instruments bear the mark of

some occasion. There are a great many Serenades and _Divertimenti_,

which can hardly be called representative of his best and can hardly

be distinguished from each other. Among the interesting works are the

concerto for flute and harp (K 299), the trio for clarinet, viola and

piano (K 498), the quintet for pianoforte, oboe, clarinet, horn and

bassoon (K 452), and the quintet for clarinet and strings (K 581). The

trio was composed in Vienna in August, 1786, and is conspicuous for

a fine handling of the viola. The clarinet is not used at all in the

lower registers, lest it interfere with the viola. Mozart considered

the quintet for piano and wind instruments at the time he wrote it the

best thing he had written. It was composed in March, 1784, for a public

concert and was received with great applause. Jahn wrote of it that

from beginning to end it was a true triumph in the art of recognizing

and adapting the peculiar euphonious quality of each instrument.

Doubtless it served as a model for Beethoven’s composition in the same

form.

Mozart was the first among composers to recognize the beauty of the

clarinet. Among his warmest friends was Anton Stadler, an excellent

clarinet player, and the great clarinet quintet was composed for

Stadler and is known as the Stadler quintet. The clarinet, owing to

the peculiar penetrating quality, is somewhat necessarily treated as

a solo instrument; but the background supplied by the strings is no

mere accompaniment. The whole work shows the finest care and may well

rank with the string quintets among Mozart’s greatest and most pleasing

works.

Beethoven’s works for wind instruments in chamber music are not

numerous. In the expression of his forceful and passionate ideas he

demanded a medium of far greater technical ability than he could ask

of the wind players of that day. There is an early trio for piano,

flute and bassoon, written before he left Bonn; an octet in E-flat

for two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, and two horns, written in

1792, but published as opus 103; and a few other early works without

value; a sextet for two violins, viola, cello, and two horns, written

in 1795 and not published till 1819, then as opus 81; another early

sextet, opus 71, for two clarinets, two bassoons, and two horns; and

finally the most considerable of his compositions for an ensemble of

wind instruments, the quintet in E-flat major, opus 16, for piano,

oboe, clarinet, horn, and bassoon, the septet in E-flat, opus 20,

for clarinet, horn, bassoon, violin, viola, cello, and double-bass.

The sonata in F, opus 17, for horn and piano was written in a night,

according to a well-known story, for the horn player Punto--originally

Stich--and can hardly be considered as more than a bit of pot-boiling.

Most of these early works were written for an occasion. Prince

Maximilian Franz, in whose service Beethoven was for a time employed

before he left Bonn and came to Vienna, was especially fond of wind

instruments. His ‘Table-music’ was generally of this kind and he had

in his employ two oboists, two clarinetists, two horn players, and

two players of the bassoon. Beethoven’s early works therefore may be

considered to have been written with these players in mind. He was sure

of having them performed. In later years he looked with no little scorn

upon many of them. Even of the septet, opus 20, he is reported to have

said that there was some natural feeling in it but little art. And of

the early sextet which was published in 1809 as opus 70 he wrote to

his publishers that it was one of his early pieces and was, moreover,

written in a night, that there was little further to say about it

except that it was written by a composer who had at least produced

some better works--though many men might still consider this the best.

Yet it is to be observed that in nearly all of them Beethoven made the

best of the possibilities open to him, possibilities which were greatly

restricted by the general lack of technical skill in playing wind

instruments, and that all show at least a clear and logical form.

The octet, opus 103, the sextet, opus 81, the sextet, opus 71, and the

quintet, opus 16, are all in the key of E-flat major, a key which is

favorable to all wood-wind instruments. The octet was written, as we

have said, in 1792. Beethoven rearranged it as a string quintet and

in that form it was published in 1796 as opus 4. In its original form

the chief rôle is taken by the oboe, especially in the slow second

movement, which has the touch of a pastoral idyl. The last movement in

rondo form offers the clarinets an opportunity in the first episode. A

Rondino for the same combination of instruments written about the same

time seems to forecast parts of _Fidelio_. The sextet for two horns and

string quartet is little more than a duet for the horns with a string

accompaniment.

We may pass over the trio for two oboes and English horn, published as

opus 87, and the flute duet written for his friend Degenhart on the

night of August 23, 1792. The sextet, opus 71, which Beethoven said

was written in a night, is none the less written with great care. The

prelude introduction and the cheerful style suggest some happy sort of

serenade music. The melody (bassoon) in the adagio is of great beauty.

There are, among its movements, a minuet and a lively rondo in march

rhythm.

The quintet, opus 16, in which the piano is joined with four

instruments may well have been suggested by Mozart’s quintet in the

same form; though Beethoven was a great pianist and had already in an

earlier trio and a sonata experimented in combining the pianoforte

with wind instruments. The wind instruments are here treated as an

independent group and the part for the piano is brilliant. There is a

richness of ideas throughout which raises the work above the earlier

compositions for wind.

The septet in E-flat, opus 20, for clarinet, horn, bassoon, violin,

viola, cello and double-bass, is undoubtedly the finest of Beethoven’s

works for combinations of wind instruments. It was written just

before 1800 and was so full of joy and humor that those who had heard

Beethoven’s other works with a hostile ear were quite won over for the

time being by this. Technically it may be considered the result of

all his previous experiments. It is rather in the manner of a suite.

There is a slow prelude, an _allegro con brio_, an _adagio cantabile_,

a _tempo di menuetto_, which he later arranged for pianoforte and

incorporated in the little sonata, opus 49, No. 1, a theme and

variations, a scherzo, and a final presto, which is preceded by an

introductory andante of great beauty and of more seriousness than is

characteristic of the work as a whole. The success of the work is due

first to the freshness of the ideas, then to the skill with which

they are arranged for the difficult combination of instruments. For

Beethoven has made something of charm out of the very shortcomings of

the wind instruments. The short phrases, the straightforward character

of all the themes and motives, and the general simplicity all show

these necessarily restricted instruments at their very best.

Schubert’s octet for two violins, viola, cello, double-bass, clarinet,

horn, and bassoon is among the most beautiful pieces of chamber music

for the wind instruments. It is the first of Schubert’s contributions

to chamber music which fully reveals his genius. Mention may also be

made of the variations for flute and piano on the melody of one of his

songs _Trockene Blumen_.

None of the great composers was more appreciative of the clarinet than

Weber. It is made to sound beautifully in all his overtures, notably in

that to ‘Oberon.’

[Illustration]

Arnold Schönberg.

_After a photo from life (1913)_

He wrote two concertos for clarinet and orchestra, and a big sonata in

concerto style, opus 48, for clarinet and piano. Besides these there is

an Air and Variations, opus 33, for clarinet and piano, and a quintet,

opus 34, for clarinet and strings. Weber also wrote a charming trio,

opus 63, for flute, cello, and piano.

Spohr, too, showed a special favor towards the clarinet and he, like

Weber, wrote two concertos for it. Three of Spohr’s works which

were broadly famous in their day and much beloved are the nonet for

strings, flute, oboe, clarinet, horn, and bassoon, opus 31; the octet

for violin, two violas, cello, double-bass, clarinet, and two horns,

opus 32; and the quintet for flute, clarinet, horn, bassoon, and

piano. The two former are delicately scored, but the latter is marred

by the piano. Some idea of the fervor with which Spohr’s music was

loved may be gained from the fact that Chopin, the most selective and

fastidiously critical of all composers, conceived Spohr’s nonet to

be one of the greatest works of music. Doubtless the perfection of

style delighted him, a virtue for which he was willing to forgive many

a weakness. At present Spohr’s music is in danger of being totally

neglected.

Mendelssohn contributed nothing to this branch of chamber music,

and Schumann’s contributions were slight enough. There is a set of

_Märchenerzählungen_, opus 132, for clarinet, viola, and pianoforte,

which have some romantic charm but no distinction, and three Romances

for oboe. Brahms’ trio for clarinet, violoncello, and piano has

already been mentioned. Besides these he wrote two excellent sonatas

for clarinet and piano, and a quintet for clarinet and strings. These

works are almost unique among Brahms’ compositions for an unveiled

tenderness and sweetness. All three were probably in a measure inspired

by the playing of his friend Professor Mühlfeld, who even from the

orchestra made an impression with his clarinet upon the memories of

those who gathered at the epoch-making performances at Bayreuth. The

quintet, opus 115, is one of the most poetic and moving of all Brahms’

compositions. The two clarinet sonatas, one in F minor and one in

E-flat major, were published together in 1896 as opus 120. In these

there is the same unusual tenderness which appeals so directly to the

heart in the quintet.

Since the time of Brahms most composers have written something in

small forms for the wind instruments with or without piano or strings.

Most of these have a charm, yet perhaps none is to be distinguished.

One of the most pleasing is Pierné’s _Pastorale variée_, for flute,

oboe, clarinet, trombone, horn, and two bassoons. But here we have in

truth a small wind orchestra. D’Indy’s _Chanson et Danses_, opus 50,

two short pieces for flute, two clarinets, horn, and two bassoons,

Fauré’s _Nocturne_, opus 33, for flute, two oboes, two clarinets, two

horns and two bassoons, and some of the smaller pieces of a composer

little known, J. Mouquet, are representative of the best that the

modern French composers have done in this kind of chamber music.

Debussy’s _Rhapsodie_, for clarinet and piano, is evidently a _pièce

d’occasion_. It was written for the Concours at the Conservatoire.

Max Reger’s sonata in A-flat, opus 49, No. 1, for clarinet and piano,

and a concerto for _Waldhorn_ and piano by Richard Strauss stand out

conspicuously among the works of the Germans. In this country Mr.

Charles Martin Loeffler is to be recognized as one with an unusually

keen instinct for the effects of wind instruments in chamber music. His

two Rhapsodies for oboe, viola, and piano show a delicacy of style that

cannot be matched in work for a similar combination by other composers.

FOOTNOTES:

[82] A few measures after L in the edition published by J. Hamelle,

Paris.

[83] ‘Chamber Music, a Treatise for Students,’ by Thomas F. Dunhill.

London, 1913.

[84] See Spitta: ‘Johann Sebastian Bach.’

LITERATURE FOR VOLUME VII

_In English_

H. ABELE: The Violin and Its History (1905).

E. HERON-ALLEN: De Fidiculis Bibliographia, 2 vols. (London, 1890-94).

CHARLES BURNEY: The Present State of Music in France and Italy (London,

1771).

CHARLES BURNEY: The Present State of Music in Germany, the Netherlands

and United Provinces, 2 vols. (1773).

CHARLES BURNEY: General History of Music, 4 vols. (1776-89).

HENRY FOTHERGILL CHORLEY: Music and Manners in France and

North-Germany, 3 vols. (London, 1843).

HENRY DAVEY: History of English Music (London, 1895).

J. W. DAVIDSON: An Essay on the Works of Fr. Chopin (London, 1849).

EDWARD DICKINSON: The Study of the History of Music (New York, 1905).

HENRY T. FINCK: Chopin and Other Essays (New York, 1889).

J. A. FULLER-MAITLAND: Schumann (1884).

J. A. FULLER-MAITLAND: Brahms (London, 1911).

Grove’s Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 4 vols. (1879-89); 2nd ed.,

revised by Fuller-Maitland, 5 vols. (1904-9).

WILLIAM HENRY HADOW: A Croatian Composer (Joseph Haydn), (London, 1897).

G. HART: The Violin and Its Music (1881).

JOHN HAWKINS: A General History of the Science and Practice of Music

(London, 1776).

JAMES HUNEKER: Chopin, the Man and His Music (New York, 1900).

H. E. KREHBIEL: The Pianoforte and Its Music (New York, 1901).

LEIGHTON: Tears or Lamentations, Musical Ayres, etc. (1614).

EDWARD MACDOWELL: Critical and Historical Essays (New York, 1913).

Oxford History of Music, 6 vols. (Oxford, 1901, 1905, 1902, 1902, 1904,

1905).

I. PLAYFORD: An Introduction to the Skill of Musick, etc. (1683).

I. PLAYFORD: Apollo’s Banquet, etc. (1669).

WALDO SELDEN PRATT: The History of Music (New York, 1907).

JOHN SOUTH SHEDLOCK: The Pianoforte Sonata, Its Origin and Development

(1875).

CHRISTIAN SIMPSON: The Division Violinist (1659).

JOHN STAINER: Early Bodleian Music; Dufay and His Contemporaries

(London, 1898).

STOEVING: The Violin (1904).

_In German_

H. ABELE: Konrad Paumann (1912).

HERMANN ABERT: Robert Schumann (Berlin, 2nd ed., 1910).

WILHELM ALTMANN: Kammermusiklitteratur-Verzeichnis [from 1841] (1910).

A. W. AMBROS: Geschichte der Musik, 4 vols. (new ed. by H.

Leichentritt, Leipzig, 1909).

SELMAN BAGGE: Die Geschichtliche Entwickelung der Sonate (Leipzig,

1880).

KARL FERDINAND BECKER: Die Hausmusik in Deutschland im 16., 17. u. 18.

Jahrhundert (Leipzig, 1840).

FRANZ J. J. BEIER: Froberger (Leipzig, 1884).

PAUL BEKKER: Beethoven (Berlin, 1912).

N. D. BERNSTEIN: Anton Rubinstein (Leipzig, 1911).

KARL HERMANN BITTER: Johann Sebastian Bach, 4 vols. (2nd ed., 1881).

KARL HERMANN BITTER: K. Ph. Em. und W. Friedemann Bach und deren

Brüder, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1868).

GERHARD VON BREUNING: Aus dem Schwarzpanierhause (1874; new ed. by

Kalischer, 1907).

HUGO DAFFNER: Die Entwickelung des Klavierkonzerts bis Mozart (1908).

HERMANN DEITERS: Johannes Brahms (Leipzig, 1880; 2nd part, 1898. In

Waldersees Sammlung musikalischer Vorträge).

ALFRED EINSTEIN: Zur deutschen Literatur für Viola da Gamba im 16. und

17. Jahrhundert (_Beiheft_ of the I. M.-G., II. 1, 1905).

IMMANUEL FAISST: Beiträge zur Geschichte der Klaviersonate (Mayence,

1846. In Dehns _Cäcilia_).

I. N. FORKEL: Allgemeine Litteratur der Musik (1792).

DAGMAR GADE: Niels W. Gade. Aufzeichnungen und Briefe (Basel, 1894).

AUGUST GÖLLERICH: Franz Liszt (1908).

OTTO JAHN: W. A. Mozart, 4 vols. (1856-1859); 4th ed. by H. Deiters, 2

vols. (1905-1907).

JOSEPH JOACHIM: Briefe von und an Joseph Joachim (ed. by J. J. and A.

Moser) vol. I [1842-1857] (1911).

MAX KALBECK: Johannes Brahms, 3 vols. (1904-1911).

OTTO KAUWELL: Geschichte der Sonate (1899).

LUDWIG KÖCHEL: Chronologisch-thematisches Verzeichnis der Tonwerke W.

A. Mozarts (1862; 2nd ed. by P. Graf Waldersee, 1905).

LEOPOLD MOZART: Violinschule (1750).

RICHARD MÜNNICH: Johann Kuhnau (Leipzig, 1902).

KARL NEF: Zur Geschichte der deutschen Instrumentalmusik in der zweiten

Hälfte des 17. Jahrhunderts (_Beiheft_ of the I. M.-G., I. 5, 1902).

WALTER NIEMANN: Die Musik Skandinaviens (1906).

WALTER NIEMANN (with Schjelderup): Grieg (1908).

LUDWIG NOHL: Beethoven, 3 vols. (1864-1877).

OSKAR PAUL: Geschichte des Klaviers (1868).

K. FERD. POHL: Joseph Haydn, 2 vols. (1875-1882).

HUGO RIEMANN: Geschichte der Musik seit Beethoven (1901).

HUGO RIEMANN: Handbuch der Musikgeschichte, vol. II. (3 parts, Leipzig,

1911-13).

HUGO RIEMANN: Zur Geschichte der deutschen Suite (_Sammelbände_ of the

I. M.-G., IV. 4, 1905).

HEINRICH REIMANN: Johannes Brahms (1897; 4th ed. 1911).

HEINRICH REIMANN: Robert Schumann (1887).

KARL REINECKE: Die Beethovenschen Klaviersonaten (1899; 4th ed. 1905).

WILHELM RITTER: Smetana (1907).

ARNOLD SCHERING: Geschichte des Instrumentalkonzerts (Leipzig, 1903;

new ed., 1905).

ANTON SCHINDLER: Biographie Ludwig van Beethovens (1840; rev. by A.

Kalischer, 1909).

J. P. SEIFFERT: Geschichte der Klaviermusik (Leipzig, 1899).

PHILIPP SPITTA: Johann Sebastian Bach, 2 vols. (Leipzig, 1873, 1880).

ALEXANDER WHEELOCK THAYER: Ludwig van Beethovens Leben, 5 vols., 1866

(1901), 1872 (1910), 1879 (1911), 1907, 1908; completed and revised by

H. Deiters and H. Riemann.

KARL THRANE: Friedrich Kuhlau (1886).

JOSEPH VON WASIELEWSKI: Das Violoncell und seine Geschichte (Leipzig,

1889; 2nd ed., 1911).

JOSEPH VON WASIELEWSKI: Die Violine im 17. Jahrhundert und die Anfänge

der Instrumentalkomposition (1874).

JOSEPH VON WASIELEWSKI: Die Violine und ihre Meister (Leipzig, 1869;

5th edition, 1911).

JOSEPH VON WASIELEWSKI: Geschichte der Instrumentalmusik im sechzehnten

Jahrhundert (1878).

JOSEPH VON WASIELEWSKI: Robert Schumann (1858, 4th ed., 1906).

KARL FRIEDRICH WEITZMAN: Geschichte des Klavierspiels und der

Klavierliteratur (1879).

KARL VON WINTERFELD: Johannes Gabieli und sein Zeitalter (1843).

_In French_

H. BARBEDETTE: Chopin, essai de critique musicale (1861).

H. BARBEDETTE: F. Schubert (1865).

H. BARBEDETTE: Stephen Heller (1876).

MICHEL BRENET: La jeunesse de Rameau (Paris, 1903).

M. D. CALVOCORESSI: Liszt (1911).

ARTHUR COQUARD: César Franck (Paris, 1891).

FRANÇOIS JOSEPH FÉTIS: Biographie universelle des musiciens, 8 vols.

(1837-1844, 2 ed. 1860-1865); Suppl. by A. Pougin, 2 vols. (1878-1880).

HUGUES IMBERT: Profils de musiciens (1888).

VINCENT D’INDY: César Franck (1906).

VINCENT D’INDY: Beethoven (1911).

H. M. LAVOIX: Histoire de l’instrumentation depuis le seizième siècle

jusqu’a nos jours (Paris, 1878).

ANTOINE FRANÇOIS MARMONTEL: Les pianists célèbres (1878).

ANTOINE FRANÇOIS MARMONTEL: Histoire du piano (1885).

L. PICQUOT: La vie et les œuvres de Luigi Boccherini (1851).

ANDRÉ PIRRO: Louis Marchand (_Sammelbände_ of the I. M.-G., VI. 1,

1904).

ANDRÉ PIRRO: J. S. Bach (Paris, 1906).

ARTHUR POUGIN: Notice sur Rode (1874).

ROMAIN ROLLAND: Beethoven (1907).

ALBERT SCHWEITZER: J. S. Bach, le musicien poète (Paris, 1905).

T. DE WYZEWA AND G. DE SAINT-FOIX: W. A. Mozart, 2 vols. (1912).

_In Italian_

H. GARDANO: Musica di XIII autori illustri (1576).

LUIGI TORCHI: La musica istromentale in Italia nei secoli 16º 17º e 18º

(_Rivista musicale_, IV-VIII, 1898-1901).

_In Spanish_

F. GASCUE: Historia de la sonata (S. Sebastián, 1910).

INDEX FOR VOLUME VII

A

Abel, 591.

Absolute music, 312.

Accentuation (in syncopated rhythm), 220f.

Accompaniment figures (in pianoforte music), 181, 198;

(Mendelssohn), 213f;

(Schumann), 222, 231;

(Brahms), 240;

(Chopin), 268f, 270, 272;

(Liszt), 306f;

(Heller), 321;

(Scriabin), 338;

(in string quartet), 564.

See also Alberti bass; Basso ostinato; Tum-Tum bass.

Acrostics in music, 218.

After-sounds (in pianoforte music), 356, 357, 363.

Agrémens, 35, 59, 128.

Agricola, 374.

Air and Variations, 26.

Alard, 447, 452.

Albéniz, Isaac, 339.

Albergati, 391.

[d’]Albert, Eugen, 324, 330.

Alberti, Domenico, 48, 97, 107f, 139.

Alberti bass, 110ff, 120, 178, 242, 268.

Albinoni, Tommaso, 399, 422.

Alkan, Charles-Valentin, 342ff.

Allegri, G., 475.

Allemande, 23, 25.

Amateurs, 209.

Amati, Andrea, 375.

America, Herz’ travels in, 285.

André, 425.

Anet, Batiste, 406.

Angelico (Fra), 373.

Anglaise, 76.

[d’]Anglebert, 36, 396f.

Antoniotti, Giorgio, 591.

Aquinas, Thomas, 371.

Arabs, 369.

Arcadelt, 10.

Arensky, Anton, 333.

Aria, 26, 69.

Aria form, 77, 102, 103.

Arpeggios, 20, 448;

(in violin playing), 415.

Arrangements. See Transcriptions.

Attaignant, 469.

Auer, Leopold, 464, 465.

Augengläser, 512.

[L’]Augier, 43, 100.

Austrian National Hymn, 496.

B

Bach, Carl Philipp Emanuel, 35, 59, 86, 96, 98, 99, 100, 113,

_116ff_, 132, 417, 490;

(quoted on the pianist’s art), 133.

Sonata in D major, 118.

Bach, Johann Christian, 86, 97, 112, 113, 114, 116, 117ff, 491, 498.

Bach, Johann Sebastian, 8, 28, 30, 41, 42, _63ff_, 95, 99, 128f,

131, 134, 207, 267f, 305, 367, _421ff_, 428, 484;

(in rel. to fugue and suite), 70ff;

(in rel. to concerto, etc.), 81;

(influence on Chopin), 254f;

(popularization of), 300.

Well-tempered Clavichord, 64, 71, 81.

Italian concerto, 67, 82, 95.

English suite in G minor, 67.

Partitas, 75, 79.

English suites, 75f.

French suites, 75f.

Preludes, 80.

Toccatas, 81.

Fantasias, 81.

Goldberg Variations, 83, 85.

Musikalisches Opfer, 84.

Kunst der Fuge, 84.

Violin solo sonatas, 422.

Chaconne for violin alone, 423.

Sonatas for Harpsichord and Violin, 423.

Concertos for one or two violins, 423f.

Violoncello suites, 591.

Bach, Wilhelm Friedemann, 128.

Baillot, Pierre Marie François de, 412, 431, 433, 434.

Balakireff, Mily, 330, 331, 338.

Islamey Fantasy, 330.

Balance, 49.

Balakireff, 555.

Ballades, 17;

(Chopin), 256.

Balletti, 377, 470, 473.

Baltasarini. See Beaujoyeaulx.

Balzac (cited), 282.

Banchieri, Adriano, 471.

Barbella, Emanuele, 404.

Barcarolle (Chopin), 256.

Barthélémon, H., 410.

Baryton, 590f.

Basle, 372.

Bassani, Giovanni Battista, 389f, 480.

Bassedance, 470.

Bassoon (in chamber music), 598, 604.

Basso ostinato, 387.

Batiste. See Anet, Batiste.

Bäuerl, Paul, 473.

Beach, Mrs. H. H. A., 340.

Beaujoyeaulx, 376f.

Beaulieu, 376.

Bebung, 3.

Becker, Diedrich, 473.

Beethoven, 89, 98, 100f, 112, 116, 123, 131f, 136, _154ff_,

_158ff_, 175, 193, 206, 207, 253f, 267, 367, 432, 433,

_451ff_, _509ff_, 534, 575f, 592f, 599f, 602;

(compared to Haydn and Mozart), 133;

(pianoforte playing), 160f;

(popularization of), 300;

(transcriptions), 306.

Pianoforte sonatas, 154ff, 159ff, 168ff.

Piano sonata in C-sharp minor (op. 27, No. 2), 169f.

Piano sonata in A-flat (op. 110), 171f.

Bagatelles (piano), 173.

Piano Concerto in G major, 173.

Piano concerto in E-flat major (Emperor), 173.

Diabelli Variations, 173.

Early Violin Sonatas, 454f.

Violin sonata in G (op. 96), 456.

Violin concerto, 456f.

Six string quartets (op. 18), 510ff.

String quintet in C major (op. 29), 512.

‘Russian’ string quartets (op. 59), 513ff.

String quartets (op. 74 and 95), 517.

String quartet (op. 127), 520ff.

String quartet in A minor (op. 132), 523ff.

String quartet in B-flat major (op. 130), 527ff.

String quartets in C-sharp minor, 528ff.

String quartet in F major (op. 135), 531ff.

Trio, op. 70, 575f.

Trio, op. 97, 576.

Violoncello sonata in F (op. 5), 592f.

Violoncello sonata in A (op. 69), 593f.

Violoncello sonata in G (op. 5), 593.

Violoncello sonata (op. 102), 594f.

Variations on air from ‘Magic Flute,’ 595.

Trio for piano, flute and bassoon, 599f.

Septet, op. 20, 602.

Bekker, Paul, 512.

Belgian school of violin playing, 447.

Bellini, 286.

Benda, Carl, 416.

Benda, Franz, 413, 414f, 417, 420, 428.

Benda, Georg, 414.

Benda, Hans Georg, 414.

Benda, Johann, 414.

Benda, Joseph, 414.

Bennett, William Sterndale, 217.

Bériot, Charles Auguste de, 446, 448.

Berlioz, 207, 342;

(transcriptions), 306.

Bernadotte, General, 432, 455.

Bernardi, 390.

Berthaume, Isidore, 410.

Biber, Heinrich Ignaz Franz [von], 391f, 412, 422.

‘Biblical Sonatas,’ 27.

Biblical subjects, 27, 311.

Bie, [Dr.] Oskar (cited), 199, 322, 344.

Biffi, 108.

Binary form, 45, 49, 102, 103, 105.

Bini, Pasqualini, 403.

Bizet, 462.

Boccaccio, 373.

Boccherini, Luigi, 404, 487ff, 491, 591.

Boehm, Joseph, 445.

Bohemia, 556, 586.

Bohm (organist), 16.

Bononcini, 390, 478.

Borodine, 330, 553, 554f.

String quartet in A, 554.

Borri, 390.

Bourrées, 26.

Bowen, York, 598.

Bowing (violin), 403, 416, 431;

('cello), 591.

Brahms, 53, 168, 193, _238ff_, 271, 273, 321, 367, 442, 451,

_459f_, _543ff_, _578f_, 579, _583ff_, 587, 596f;

(influence), 335.

Pianoforte sonatas, 240.

Piano sonata in C major, 240f.

Piano sonata in F-sharp minor, 241.

Piano sonata in F minor, 241.

Paganini Variations (piano), 242f.

Ballades (piano), 242.

Variations on a Theme of Handel (piano), 243.

Capriccios, 244ff.

Rhapsodies (piano), 245f.

Intermezzos (piano), 246.

Piano concertos, 247f.

Violin sonatas, 459f.

Violin concerto, 460.

String sextet, 543ff.

String quartet in B-flat major (op. 67), 546.

String quartet in A minor (op. 51, No. 2), 546.

Trios in C major and C minor, 578f.

Clarinet Trio, 579.

Horn trio, 579.

Pianoforte quartets (op. 25 and 26), 583.

Pianoforte quartet (op. 70), 584.

Pianoforte quintet in F minor (op. 34), 584f.

Cello sonata, 596f.

Branle, 470.

Brentano, Maximilian, 575.

Briegel, K., 473.

Britton, Thomas, 481.

Broadwood, Thomas, 158.

Brodsky, Adolf, 464.

Bruch, Max, 452, 465.

Scottish Fantasia, 465.

Violin concertos, 465.

Bruhns, Nikolaus, 422.

Brussels, 448.

Bull, John, 19, 32.

Bull, Ole, 452.

Bülow, Hans von, 44, 332, 342.

Buonaparte, Lucien, 487.

Buoni, 390.

Buononcini. See Bononcini.

Burlesca, 79.

Burney, Charles, 43;

(cited), 48, 108, 394, 408, 415.

Buxtehude, 16.

Byrd, William, 19.

Byron, 318.

C

Caccia, 10.

Caccini, 474.

Cadences, 14.

Cadenza (in pianoforte concerto), 152f;

(in chamber music), 581.

Caluta à la Spagnola, 470.

Cambridge, 18.

Campion, Jacques (Chambonnières), 27.

Canavasso, A., 591.

Cannabich, Christian, 413, 418, 420.

Canon, 473.

Cantata (origin of name), 10.

Cantata da camera, 474.

Canzon a suonare (canzon da sonare), 93, 470.

Canzona, 11f, 472.

Caprice, 79.

Capriccio, 11.

Carissimi, 6.

Carlist Wars, 465.

Carnaro, Cardinal, 402.

Carneval de Venise (Le), 434, 440, 445.

Cartier, J. B., 407, 412, 428.

Casino Paganini, 437.

Cassation (quartet), 489.

Castiglione, 377.

Castor and Pollux (Abbé Vogler), 184, 185.

Catches, 473.

Cavalli, 6.

'Cello. See Violoncello.

Cembalo. See Clavicembalo; also Harpsichord.

Chabrier, Emanuel, 353, 366.

Chaconne, 83.

Chadwick, George W., 589.

Chamber music, 16;

(16th-17th cent.), 467ff;

(origin of term), 467, footnote;

(for wind instruments), 598.

See also Trio; String quartet; String quintet; Pianoforte quartet;

Pianoforte quintet; Sextet; Septet; Violin sonata; Violoncello

sonata; Wind instruments, etc.

Chamber sonatas, 94.

Chambonnières (Campion), 27, 32, 33, 104.

Chaminade, Cécile, 342.

Chanson, 9, 10, 11, 92.

Charelli, 478.

Charlatanism, 435.

Charles XI, 375.

Chausson, Ernest, (string quartet), 552;

(pianoforte quartet), 589.

Cherubini, 411;

(string quartet), 535.

Chess-board, 3.

Chopin, 55, 132, 207, _250ff_, 284, 305, 333, 342, 367, 428;

(opinion of Mendelssohn), 217;

(as character, in Schumann’s ‘Carnaval’), 227;

(popularization), 300;

(transcriptions of songs of), 306;

(transcription of ‘The Maiden’s Wish’), 307;

(influence on Russian composers), 329;

(influence), 335;

(influence in France), 341;

(compared to Paganini), 439.

Pianoforte sonatas, 257ff.

Barcarolle, 263.

Fantasia in F minor, 263.

Mazurkas, 281f.

Nocturnes, 281.

Pianoforte concerto, 263.

Polonaise-Fantasie (op. 61), 263f.

Preludes, 264.

Waltzes, 281.

Chord style, 11.

Christian Frederick VIII, King of Denmark, 309.

Chrotta, 368.

Chrysander, 53.

Church, Roman, (opposition to musicians), 371.

Church music, 9.

Church sonatas, 94.

Clarinet, 599;

(in chamber music), 579, 598, 604.

Clarinet sonatas, 603f.

Clavecin, 5, 52. See also Harpsichord.

Clavecinists, 26.

Clavicembalo, 5. See also Harpsichord.

Clavichord, 1, 2ff, 8, 67, 128.

Clement, Franz, 444, 451, 456.

Clementi, Muzio, 64, 98, 100, 112, 117, _119ff_, 143, 157.

_Gradus ad Parnassum_, 121.

Sonata in G minor (op. 7, no. 3), 121.

Sonata in B minor (op. 40, no. 2), 122.

Sonata in G minor (_Didone abbandonata_, op. 50, no. 3), 122.

Coda (Beethoven), 165f.

Color effects (in string quartet), 555f.

Concertati, 474.

Concert piece (Mendelssohn), 216. See also Konzertstück.

Concerto, (Italian), 67;

(Bach), 81;

(Vivaldi, Mozart), 150;

(for flute and harp), 599.

See also Pianoforte concerto; Violin concerto.

Concerto grosso (Torelli), 388f.

Concerts des Amateurs, 407.

Concerts Spirituels, 404, 410, 487.

Confrérie de St. Julien des Ménestriers, 372.

Conservatory. See Paris Conservatoire.

Contrapuntal style. See Polyphonic style.

Contrast, 49, 469;

(of key), 18, 561;

(of registers, in piano music), 277;

(rhythmic, in early chamber music), 476.

Corelli, Arcangelo, 6, 37, 93, 389, 392, _396ff_, 412,

427, 428, 480, 481.

Violin sonatas, 397ff.

Coriat (quoted), 393.

Cornetto, 377.

Cosyn, Benjamin, 18.

Cortecci, 376.

Counterpoint, 19f. See also Polyphonic style.

Counter-theme, 11.

Couperin, Charles, 52;

(compared to Bach), 65;

(influence on Bach), 69.

Couperin, François (le Grand), 8, 36, 41, _51ff_, 63, 86,

207, 267f, 398, 484;

(rondo), 58;

(influence on Bach), 69.

Couperin, Louis, 36, 52.

Courante, 23, 25, 473.

Cramer, J. B., 64, 132, 176, 178, 285, 418.

Cramer, Wilhelm, 418.

Cremona, 375.

Crescendo, 378.

Cristofori, Bartolomeo, 155.

Crossing of the hands, 47;

(Bach), 84;

(D. Scarlatti), 106.

Crowd, 368.

Cryptograms, 218.

Cryth, 368.

Cui, César, 330, 331.

Cycles of pianoforte pieces (Schumann), 221f.

Cyclic forms, 30. See also Sonata; Suite.

Czerny, Carl, 44, 64, 182.

D

Da capo form, 69, 77.

Dale, Benjamin, 598.

Dance form, 30.

Dance rhythms (Schubert), 206;

(Rubinstein), 321;

(Heller), 321.

See also Chopin: Mazurkas, Waltzes.

Dance tunes (15th cent.), 20, 22, 468.

Dances, (early French), 376;

(Spanish), 396;

(17th cent.), 472.

Dante, 318.

Daquin, Claude, 61.

Dargomyzhsky, 330.

Dauvergne, Antoine, 409.

David, Ferdinand, 409, 412, 443f, 451, 458.

David, Paul (quoted), 449.

De Ahna, 451.

Debussy, Claude, 353ff, 367;

(chamber music), 561ff, 604.

Suite Bergamasque, 359.

L’Isle joyeuse, 359.

Estampes, 360.

Images, 360f.

Preludes, 361ff.

String quartet, 561ff.

Delibes, Leo, 462.

Denmark, 326.

Descriptive music, 27f, 55f, 214, 311.

See also Picture music; Realism in pianoforte music.

Diabelli, 165.

Dialogues for two violins, 474, 475.

Dissonance (absence of), 13;

(unprepared), 14.

Dittersdorf, Carl Ditters von, 419.

Divertimento (quartet), 489.

Dohle, 64.

Dohnányi, Ernst von, 338;

(pianoforte quintet), 589.

Domanowecz, Nicholas Zmeskall von, 492, 518.

Double-bass (in chamber music), 590.

Double-harmonics, 438.

Double-stops (violin), 382, 383, 422, 430, 460.

Dowland, John, 394.

Dramatic style (in pianoforte sonata), 122;

(in violin music), 441.

Duet, (for one violin), 387;

(for two violins), 411;

(viola and violoncello), 512.

Duet sonata, 454.

Dumka, 586.

Dunhill, Thomas F. (cited), 460, 589.

Duport, Jean Louis, 591.

Durand, 412.

Durante, Francesco, 59, 97.

Dussek, 98, 176.

Dvořák, Antonin, 338;

(violin music), 466;

(chamber music), 558f;

(pianoforte quartets), 583;

(pianoforte quartets and quintets), 585f;

(influence), 589.

String quartet in A minor, 558.

String quartet in E-flat, 559.

‘American’ quartet, 559.

Trios (op. 65 and 90), 580f.

Pianoforte quartet (op. 23), 585.

Pianoforte quintet (op. 87), 585f.

E

Ecclesiastical modes (modern use of), 363f.

Eck, Franz, 418f, 440.