EMANUEL BACH AND SOME OF HIS CONTEMPORARIES
Carl Phillip Emanuel, third son of J.S. Bach, was born at Weimar, 8th
or 14th March, 1714, and died at Hamburg, 14th December, 1788. He
studied composition and clavier-playing with his father. His brother,
Wilhelm Friedemann, his senior by four years, went through a similar
course, but learnt, in addition, the violin under J.G. Graun.
Emanuel's attention, however, was concentrated on the one instrument;
and to this we probably owe the numerous clavier sonatas which he
wrote, and which paved the way for those of Haydn, Mozart, and
Beethoven. In his twenty-first year (1735) Emanuel left his father's
house in order to study jurisprudence at Frankfort-on-the-Oder; three
years later, however, he went to Berlin, and as cembalist entered the
service of Frederick the Great (1740).[56] Already in his father's
house, the young student saw and heard many distinguished musicians;
he himself has told us that no musician of any note passed through
Leipzig without seeking an opportunity to meet his father, so famed as
composer and as performer on the organ and clavier. And again,
afterwards, at the Court of Prussia, he came into contact with the
most notable composers and performers of his day. From among these may
be singled out C.H. Graun (composer of the "Tod Jesu") and Georg
Benda.[57] Graun was already in the service of Frederick when the
latter was only Crown Prince.[58] It would be interesting to learn the
special influences acting upon Emanuel before he published his first
set of sonatas in 1742, but this is scarcely possible. The collection
of symphonies[59] or sonatas published at Leipzig in 1762, mentioned
in our introductory chapter, gives, however, some idea of the music
of that period; and it is possible that many of the numbers were
written before Emanuel Bach published his first works. The "Sammlung
Vermischte Clavierstücke für geübte und ungeübte Spieler," by Georg
Benda, may also be mentioned; it is of great interest, especially the
Sonata in C minor. The character of the music and style of writing for
the instrument constantly remind one of Emanuel Bach. Benda, born in
1721, joined the King of Prussia's Band in 1742, and soon became known
as an experienced performer on the harpsichord. Unfortunately it is
impossible to ascertain the dates of composition of the various pieces
of this collection, and thus to find out whether Benda was an imitator
of Bach or _vice versâ_; the collection itself was only published at
Gotha in 1780.
The Italian taste in music which prevailed at the Prussian Court[60]
had undoubtedly a marked influence on Bach, and one for good. The
severe counterpoint of the North German school and the suave melody of
the Sunny South blended together with happy results.
It is customary to speak _en bloc_ of Emanuel Bach's sonatas; if,
however, the earlier be compared with some of the later ones,
interesting differences may be detected, and developments traced. But
the composer's artistic career, unfortunately, does not show a steady,
regular advance such as we find in J.S. Bach or Beethoven. C.H.
Bitter, his biographer and enthusiastic admirer, has to confess that
he was a practical man, and that he wrote at times to please pupils
and amateurs; while, occasionally, his aim may have been pecuniary
gain.
Of his early period, we shall notice the "Sei Sonate per Cembalo,"
dedicated to Frederick II. of Prussia (1742), and the Würtemberg
Sonatas, published in 1745. Of his middle period, the "Sechs Sonaten
fürs Clavier mit veränderten Reprisen," Berlin, 1760, and the "Sechs
leichte Sonaten," Leipzig, 1766. And of his latter period, the six
collections of "Sonaten für Kenner u. Liebhaber," published at Leipzig
between 1779 and 1787. With regard, however, to the last-named, it
must be remembered that some are of a comparatively early date. Thus
the 3rd Sonata of the 3rd Collection, one of the finest of Bach's
works, was composed in 1763, while the collection itself only appeared
in 1781. But a table of dates will be given further on.
If some of the best sonatas written after 1760 be compared with those
of 1742, there will be found in the later works more character in the
subject-matter, also movements of greater length. Practice, too, had
improved the composer's style of writing. The later Bach did not
return to the principal theme in such a crude, nay, lawless, fashion
as the following:--
[Music illustration: (Frederick) Sonata 1. First Movement.]
In these "Frederick" Sonatas there is as yet no tendency to enharmonic
and other surprise modulation such as Bach afterwards displayed. Then
as to technique, we find here octaves and large chords comparatively
rare,[61] while scale passages are more restricted. Like Beethoven,
Emanuel Bach seized hold of additional notes to the keyboard. In 1742
his highest and lowest notes, apparently, were--
[Music illustration]
but afterwards--
[Music illustration]
In the introductory chapter we noted the change with regard to the
number of movements of a sonata which took place between 1683, when
Corelli published his first sonatas, and 1740, when E. Bach composed
his first set. Instances were given of sonatas in three movements by
Corelli, but with that composer _four_ was the normal number; with E.
Bach, _three_. This change came about in great measure through the
concerto. From E. Bach, we are able to show the links in the chain of
development: Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven; but though between
Kuhnau, the first writer of sonatas for the clavier, and Bach, B.
Pasquini wrote, as mentioned in the last chapter, sonatas in three
movements, yet we have no knowledge that Bach was acquainted with
them. Kuhnau, in fact, however interesting a phenomenon in the musical
firmament, is not necessary to explain the appearance of Bach. Joh.
Sebastian Bach was undoubtedly acquainted with the "Bible" Sonatas. He
must have admired them, but he may have been afraid of the freedom of
form which they displayed, and of their tendency to programme-music;
and perhaps he did not speak of them to his sons, lest they should be
led astray. For, as we have already mentioned, Sebastian Bach seems to
have yielded for a moment to the Kuhnau influence, but, if we may
judge from his subsequent art-work, he did not feel satisfied that it
was a good one.
In 1742, E. Bach dedicated the six sonatas (composed in 1740) to
Frederick the Great. The title-page runs thus:--
Sei Sonate
per Cembalo
che all' Augusta Maestà
di
Frederico II.
Rè di Prussia
D.D.D.
l'Autore
Carlo Filippo Emanuele Bach
Musico di Camera di S.M.
Alle spese di Balth. Schmid
in Norimberga.
And in the obsequious dedication, the composer describes them as works
"debolissimo Talento mio." As Bach's earliest published sonatas, they
are, for our purpose, of special interest. Their order is as
follows:--
Sonata 1, in F Poco Allegro, Andante, Vivace.
" 2, " B flat Vivace, Adagio, Allegro assai.
" 3, " E Poco Allegro, Adagio, Presto.
" 4, " C minor Allegro, Adagio, Presto.
" 5, " C Poco Allegro, Andante, Allegro assai.
" 6, " A Allegro, Adagio, Allegro.
The first and last movements of all six are in binary form. In the
five major sonatas, the first sections close in the key of the
dominant, and in the one minor sonata (No. 4), in the relative major.
The opening movement of each sonata is in early sonata-form: the
second section starts with the principal theme, or a brief allusion
to it; but then, after a short development with modulation, there is a
return to the principal key and to the principal theme.[62] The final
movements, on the other hand, are of the usual _suite_ order. Of
interest and, indeed, of importance in our history of development are
the contents of the first section of the opening movements. In some of
the Scarlatti sonatas (see No. 56) there is to be found a fairly
definite second subject in the dominant key, or, in the case of a
minor piece, in the dominant minor or relative major. Here the process
of differentiation is continued; in the 2nd Sonata the contrast
between the two subjects is specially marked. We give the opening bar
of each--
[Music illustration]
In most of the developments the composer steers clear of the principal
key, so that at the return of the principal theme it may appear fresh.
To such a method, since Beethoven, we are quite accustomed; but it is
curious how little attention--even with the example of E. Bach before
him--Haydn paid to such an effective means of contrast in some of his
early sonatas. In Bach's No. 6, in A, the development assumes unusual
magnitude; it is even longer than the first section. And it is not
only long, but interesting. One passage, of which we quote a portion,
has rather a modern appearance:[63]--
[Music illustration]
The return of the principal theme is preceded by an unexpected entry
of the opening bars in B minor,--a first sign of that humour which
afterwards formed so prominent a feature in Bach's music. And the
theme itself, after the opening notes, is dealt with in original
fashion.
The middle movements of Nos. 2, 3, 5, and 6 are in the key of the
relative minor; that of No. 1 is in the tonic minor, and that of No. 4
(C minor), in the relative major. No. 1, twice interrupted by a
recitative (upper part and figured bass),[64] is dignified, yet
tender, and, in form, original. The Adagio, in C sharp minor, of No. 3
is a movement of singular charm; it is based on imitation, but, though
old in style, it breathes something of the new spirit, or rather--for
there is nothing new under the sun--of the old Florentine spirit which
freed music for a time from the fetters of polyphony. The genius of
Johann Sebastian Bach gained the victory over form, and, in fact,
exhausted fugue-form. It is in the clever, but dry fugues of some of
his contemporaries and, especially, successors, that one can feel the
absolute necessity for a new departure. This Adagio is, as it were, a
delicate remembrance, and one not unmixed with sadness, of the
composer's immortal parent.
The light, lively final movements need no description. All the music
of these sonatas is written in two or three parts or voices;
occasionally there are chord passages in which for the moment the
number is increased. We have dwelt somewhat in detail on this work, as
it appears to be little known.
There is a sonata in the key of D major, published in the 3rd
Collection (1763) of Marpurg's _Clavierstücke_ (p. 10), by E. Bach,
which was written in the same year (1740), but earlier than the
"Frederick" Sonatas. C.H. Bitter remarks that if the year of
composition were not known, it would certainly pass as a much later
work. The first movement reminds one of Beethoven's terse, bold style.
Bitter refers to the freedom with which the thoughts are expressed, to
the melodious character of the Andante, and to the humour of the
Finale. He might also have referred to the style of writing for the
instrument, which suggests a later date.
In 1745 (?) appeared the Würtemberg Sonatas (so called because they
were dedicated to Bach's pupil, the _Duca di Wirtemberg e Teckh_, as
he is named on the title-page of the original edition). These sonatas
are marked as Opera seconda. They were offered by the composer to the
Duke in recognition of the many favours shown to him "at the time when
I had the honour of giving you lessons in music at Berlin."[65] Of
these sonatas we have only been able to have access to the two
preserved in the British Museum; the others are probably of similar
character.
No. 1, in E flat, opens with an Adagio, followed by an Allegro assai
(E flat), and then by a Menuet alternato and Trio, both in E flat, and
with the former _da capo_. The first and second movements are in old
binary form; the Allegro shows the influence of D. Scarlatti. The
Minuet is fresh and pleasing. It is evident, taking E. Bach himself
as standard, that this is a suite rather than a sonata.
No. 2, in B flat, is of similar character and construction. Both
sonatas are old in form, but more modern in their subject-material and
style of writing than those dedicated to the King of Prussia. In the
latter there is a solidity not to be found here; in its place we have
lightness, almost merriment; they were written, one would almost
think, expressly for the amusement of the Duke. The rapid semi-quaver
passages (as in No. 1) and the crossing of hands (as in No. 2) tell in
no undecided manner of the influence of Scarlatti. The exceedingly
light and graceful Minuets remind one of the kinship between the
composer and Haydn.
In a letter to Forkel, dated 10th February 1775, Bach writes as
follows:--
"Die 2 Sonaten, welche Ihren Beyfall vorzüglich haben, sind die
einzigen von dieser Art, die ich je gemacht habe. Sie gehören zu der,
aus dem H-moll, die ich Ihnen mitschickte, zu der aus dem B, die Sie
nun auch haben, u. zu 2en aus der Hafner-Würtembergischen Sammlung, u.
sind alle 6 anno 1743, im Töplitzer Bade von mir, der ich damahls sehr
gicht-brüchig war, auf einem Claviacord mit der kurzen Octav
verfertiget."[66]
It would be interesting to know the two sonatas belonging to this
period, "the only ones of the kind that I have ever written." In the
catalogue of musical remains of E. Bach, published two years after his
death, the opening bars are given of a Sonata in B minor (see above
letter) written at Töplitz in 1743--
[Music illustration]
This, surely, must be the one mentioned in the above letter.
In 1760, Bach published six sonatas with varied repeats (_mit
veränderten Reprisen_), dedicated to Princess Amelia of Prussia. In
the preface the composer remarks that "nowadays change or repetition
is indispensable." He complains that some players will not play the
notes as written, even the first time; and again, that players, if the
changing on repetition is left to them, make alterations unsuitable to
the character of the music. These sonatas are of great historic
interest. This preface, also the evident necessity for additional
(inner part) notes at times, especially in the slow movements of E.
Bach and other composers of that day, make one feel that, as it now
stands, much of Bach's music is a dead letter. Here we are face to
face with a question which in a kindred matter has given rise to much
controversy. If the music is to produce its proper effect, something
must be done. To that (in the case of Emanuel Bach's sonatas) all
reasonable musicians must agree. Yet not, perhaps, as to what that
something should be. According to certain authorities, only additions
should be made which are strictly in keeping with the spirit of the
age in which the music was written. Some, on the other hand, would
bring the music up to date; they think it better to clothe
eighteenth-century music in nineteenth-century dress, than to ask
musicians with nineteenth-century ears to listen to patched-up
eighteenth-century music. The second plan would not be approved by
musicians who hold the classical masters in veneration; with a little
modification, the first one, however, ought to meet with general
acceptance. We may write in keeping with the spirit of a past age, but
the music must now be played on an instrument of different character,
compass, and quality of tone; so surely in making additions (and, so
far as certain ornaments are concerned, alterations) these things
ought to be taken into consideration. A certain latitude should,
therefore, be allowed to the transcriber; hard-and-fast rules in such
a delicate task are impossible. The late Dr. Bülow edited six of
Emanuel Bach's sonatas,[67] and though he was well acquainted with the
composer's style of writing, his anxious desire to present the music
in the most favourable light sometimes led him to make changes of
which even lenient judges would not approve. The matter is an
interesting one, and we may therefore venture to refer somewhat in
detail to one passage. In the 3rd Sonata (F minor) of the 3rd
Collection, the passage--
[Music illustration]
has been changed by Bülow: he has altered the C flat in the second
half of the first bar into a C natural, thus smoothing down the hard
progression to the key of B flat minor. Now this very passage had
already, nearly a hundred years previously, attracted the notice of
Forkel, who admitted that, apart from the context, it jarred against
his musical feeling. But he had thought over the composer's intention
in writing that sonata, and had come to the conclusion that, in the
opening Allegro, Bach wished to express indignation.[68] He therefore
asks: "Are the hard, rough, passionate expressions of an angry and
indignant man beautiful?" In this case, Forkel was of opinion that the
hard modulation was a faithful record of what the composer wished to
express.[69] The natural order of history seems inverted here. One
would have expected Forkel to look upon the music from an abstract,
but Bülow from a poetical point of view. C.H. Bitter--also on purely
musical grounds--condemns Bülow's alterations. He says:--"Even
weaknesses of great masters, among which the passages in question are
not to be counted, still more so, special peculiarities, should be
left untouched. What would become of Beethoven, if each generation of
musicians, according to individual judgment, arrogated to itself the
right, here and there, of expunging hardnesses, smoothing down
peculiarities, and softening even sharp points with which, from time
to time, we come into unpleasant contact? Works of art must be
accepted as they are."
The first part of Bitter's argument is sound; but, unfortunately for
the last, the writer in his life of Emanuel Bach and his brothers
insists on the necessity of _not_ accepting Emanuel's clavier works
_as they are_.
He quotes a passage from the Andante of the 4th Sonata of the second
set of the "Reprisen Sonaten," and comes to the natural conclusion
that it was only an outline requiring filling up.
With all his faults, one cannot but admire the spirit in which Bülow
worked. He felt the greatness of the old masters, regretted the
limited means which they had at their command, also the stenographic
system in which they were accustomed to express their thoughts; and he
sought, therefore, to make use of modern means, and thereby was
naturally tempted to introduce modern effects. The restoration of the
old masters is a difficult and delicate task, and in most cases, one
may add, a thankless one. In the matter of transcription, however, it
is important to distinguish between a Bülow and a Tausig: the one
displayed the intelligence of an artist; the other, the
thoughtlessness of a _virtuoso_.
But what, it may be asked, is the character of the changes made by
Bach? The matter is of interest; by examining these sonatas, we get
some idea of the difference between letter and spirit. However, from
what we have said above, a mere imitation of these changes, in playing
Bach's music, would, in its turn, be letter rather than spirit.
As a rule the bass remains the same, though plain crotchets may become
quavers, as in extract from Sonata 1 given below, or notes turned into
broken octaves--
[Music illustration]
or, at times, some very slight alteration may occur, such as--
[Music illustration]
In the upper parts the changes are similar to those found in the
variations of Haydn and Mozart. An illustration will be better than
any explanation, and we accordingly give a brief extract from the 1st
Sonata: first the five bars of the Allegretto, as at the opening, then
as they are changed--
[Music illustration]
The publication of the set of six Leipzig collections of sonatas,
etc., commenced in 1779; but thirteen years previously, the composer
had published a set of "Sechs Leichte Clavier Sonaten," and these, in
one or two respects, are curious. The opening movement of No. 6 has no
double bars, and, therefore, no repeat of the first section. And
again, it has a coda pausing on the dominant chord and followed by an
Andantino. This second movement, peculiar in form and modulation, ends
on the dominant of F, leading directly to the Presto.
The opening of the Larghetto of No. 2--
[Music illustration]
was probably the prototype of many a theme of the classical masters.
The works by which Emanuel Bach is best known are the six collections
of sonatas, rondos, and fantasias published at Leipzig between
1779-1787. The composer died in 1788. The 1st Collection (1779) bears
the title "Sechs Claviersonaten für Kenner und Liebhaber," and, in
fact, contains six sonatas. But "nebst einigen Rondos" (together with
some Rondos) was already added to the title-page of the 2nd and 3rd
Collections; and to the remaining ones, the still further addition of
"Freye Fantasien."
For the sake of reference, the list of sonatas is subjoined--
Coll.
(1779) 1 Sonata in C 1773 Hamburg.
" " " F 1758 Berlin.
" " " B minor 1774 Hamburg.
" " " A (Bülow No. 3) 1765 Potsdam.
" " " F 1772 Hamburg.
" " " G (Bülow No. 4) 1765 Potsdam.
(1780) 2 " " G 1774 Hamburg.
" " " F 1780 Hamburg.
" " " A (Bülow No. 2) 1780 Hamburg.
(1781) 3 " " A minor 1774 Hamburg.
" " " D minor (Bülow No. 5) 1766 Potsdam.
" " " F minor (Bülow No. 1) 1763 Berlin.
(1783) 4 " " G 1781 Hamburg.
" " " E minor 1765 Berlin.
(1785) 5 " " E minor 1784 Hamburg.
" " " B flat 1784 Hamburg.
(1787) 6 " " D 1785 Hamburg.
" " " E minor 1785 Hamburg.
Without copious musical examples, an analysis of these eighteen
sonatas would prove heavy reading. It will, therefore, be easier for
the writer, and certainly pleasanter for his readers, to give a
somewhat "freye Fantasia" description of them, laying emphasis
naturally on points connected with the special purpose in view.[70]
In the matter of tonality there are some curiosities. When Beethoven's
1st Symphony appeared, the opening bars of the introduction became
stumbling-stones to the pedagogues of that day. The work was, without
doubt, in the key of C major; yet, instead of opening with the tonic
chord of that key, the composer led up to it through the keys of the
subdominant, relative minor, and dominant. No wonder that such a
proceeding surprised conventional minds, and that the critics warned
Beethoven of the danger of "going his own way." But his predecessor,
Emanuel Bach, had also strayed from the pedagogic path, a narrow one,
yet, in the end, leading to destruction. In the first book (1779), the
5th Sonata (as shown by the whole of the movement, with exception of
the two opening bars) is in the key of F major, yet the first bar is
in C minor (minor key of the dominant) and the second, in D minor
(relative minor of the principal key).
[Music illustration]
There were, no doubt, respecters of tonality also in Emanuel Bach's
day, to whom such free measures must have seemed foolhardy. While
composing this sonata Bach was, apparently, in daring mood. The slow
middle movement in D minor opens with an inversion of the dominant
ninth, and the Finale in F thus--
[Music illustration]
Of the character of the first section of movements in binary form we
have already spoken in the introductory chapter.
In the matter of development, the Bach sonatas are in one respect
particularly striking; the composer seems to have resolutely turned
away from the fugal style, and in so doing probably found himself
somewhat hampered. Like the early Florentine reformers, Bach was
breaking with the past, and with a mightier past than the one on which
the Florentines turned their back; like them, he, too, was occupied
with a new form. Not the music itself of the first operas, but the
spirit which prompted them, is what we now admire; in E. Bach,
too,--especially when viewed in the light of subsequent history,--we
at times take the will for the deed.
We meet with much the same kinds of development as in Scarlatti:
phrases or passages taken bodily from the first section and repeated
on different degrees of the scale, extensions of phrases, and
passage-writing based on some figure from the exposition, etc. The
short development section of the Sonata in G (Collection No. 6) offers
examples of the three methods of development just mentioned. Bach,
like Scarlatti, was a master of his instrument, and even when--as was
said of Mendelssohn--he had nothing particular to say, he always
managed to say that little well. E. Bach has already much to suffer in
the inevitable comparison with Beethoven; and the fact that we have
the full message of the one, but not of the other, no doubt
accentuates the difference.
In many ways Bach reminds one of Beethoven. There are unexpected
fortes and pianos, unexpected crescendos and diminuendos. Of such, the
noble Larghetto in F minor of the Sonata in F (Collection 1779, No. 2)
offers, indeed, several fine examples. Particularly would we notice
the passage just before the return of the opening theme; it begins
_ff_, but there is a gradual decrease to _pp_; the latter seems
somewhat before its time, and therefore surprises. Then, again, we
meet with out-of-the-way modulations. Bach was extremely fond of
enharmonic transitions,[71] and the same can be said of Beethoven in
both his early and his late works. The means employed by the two
composers may be the same, but the effect is, of course, always more
striking in Beethoven, whose thoughts were deeper, and whose means of
expressing them were in every way more extended. And once again, in
some of the forms of melody, in figures and passages, traces can be
found of connection between the two masters. To our thinking the bond
of union between E. Bach and Beethoven is stronger than the
oft-mentioned one between the early master and Haydn: Haydn was
practically Bach's pupil; Beethoven, his spiritual heir. This it is
which gives interest to any outward resemblances which may be
detected, not the resemblances themselves.
In Bach's six sonatas of 1742 the movements are detached. But the
opening movement (an Andante in sonata form) of the 2nd Sonata of the
Leipzig Collection of 1779 ends with a few bars in canonic form (and
with quaint Bebung effect), leading without break to the following
Larghetto. The next sonata also connects the second with the third
movement. In the above case the change was merely from the key of
tonic major to that of minor; but here the movement is in G minor, and
an enharmonic modulation leads to the dominant of B minor, key of the
final movement. The sonata begins in B minor, and the choice of the
remote key of G minor for the middle movement is somewhat curious.
Sonata No. 4 connects first and second movements; and the third is
evidently meant to follow without pause. It must, however be
remembered that the majority of the Leipzig sonatas do not have the
various movements thus connected. It therefore seems to have been an
experiment rather than a settled plan. Examples of the connection of
movements are also to be found in Nichelmann and J.C.F. Bach. The same
thing may be seen in some of Haydn's sonatas (Nos. 18, 22, etc.),
while Beethoven offers a remarkable instance in his sonata, Op. 57.
The 1st Sonata of the 2nd Collection passes from the first to the
second movement (Allegretto, G minor; Larghetto, F sharp minor) in a
curious manner, by enharmonic means. The last bar has--
[Music illustration]
The quotation is in abbreviated form. The second chord would, of
course, be taken at first as dominant minor ninth on G. The 1st Sonata
of the 4th Collection is not striking as music, and certainly not of
sufficient importance to justify serious inquiry into the peculiar
order of keys for the three movements (G, G minor, and E major).
With regard to the number of movements, all except two of the eighteen
sonatas have three; the second and third of the 2nd Collection have
only two.
John Christian Bach, or the "London" Bach, as he was called, dedicated
his fifth work, consisting of six sonatas "Pour le clavecin ou
pianoforte," to Ernst, Duke of Mecklenburg. This cannot have been
before 1759, as that was the year in which the composer came to
London. He describes himself on the title-page as--"Maître de Musique
de S.M. la Reine d'Angleterre." These sonatas, as we learn from the
dedication, were written for the "amusement" of the Duke. The first,
third, and fourth have each only two movements. They remind us less of
E. Bach than of Haydn's early style. There is some very fresh,
pleasing writing in them. No. 5 has some excellent practising
passages, and perhaps the following--
[Music illustration]
may have suggested to Cramer his first study. The middle movement of
No. 6 is a vigorous double Fugue; the whole sonata is, indeed, one of
the finest of the set.
A Sonata in D, by Wilhelm Friedmann Bach, is commented on by Dr. Parry
in his "Sonata" dictionary article. There is another one in C major, a
fresh and vigorous example of a musician whose powers were never fully
developed.
The sonatas of Pietro Domenico Paradies (_b._ 1710), a contemporary of
E. Bach, are of interest. They were published in London by John
Johnson, and bear the title, "Sonate di gravicembalo dedicate a sua
altezza reale la principessa da Pier Domenico Paradies Napolitano."
The edition bears no date; but the right of printing and selling
granted by George II. bears the date November 28, 1754. A second
edition was published at Amsterdam in 1770. The sonatas are twelve in
number, and consist of only two movements of various character: some
have an Allegro or Presto, followed by a Presto, Allegro, or Gigue;
and sometimes (as in Nos. 9 and 11) the second movement is an Andante.
In other sonatas the first movement is in slow time. These
two-movement sonatas would seem to form an intermediate stage between
Scarlatti and Emanuel Bach. As a matter of fact, however, the latter,
as we have seen, had published clavier sonatas in three movements long
before the appearance of those of Paradies. In some of the movements
in binary form Paradies shows an advance on Scarlatti (see Nos. 1 and
10), for in the second section there is a return, after modulation, to
the principal theme. Some have the theme in the dominant key at the
commencement of that section, others not. Thus we see various stages
represented in these sonatas. The music is delightfully fresh, and,
from a technical point of view, interesting. The influence of
Scarlatti both in letter and spirit is strongly felt. In some of the
movements (_cf._ first movement of No. 8 and of No. 12) there is a
feature which Paradies did not inherit from Scarlatti, _i.e._ the
so-called Alberti bass. Of such a bass Scarlatti gives only slight
hints. Alberti, said to have been its inventor, was a contemporary of
Paradies, and the latter may have learnt the trick from him: there are
many examples of its use. In Alberti, "VIII Sonate Opera Prima,"[72]
the opening Allegro of No. 2 has it in forty-four of the forty-six
bars of which it consists, and, besides, each section is repeated.
That convenient form of accompaniment soon came into vogue. It occurs
frequently in the sonatas and concertos of J.C. Bach and Haydn, but it
is in the works of second-rate composers that one sees the full use,
or rather abuse, made of it. No. 8 of the Paradies sonatas is
particularly attractive, and the second movement forms a not
unpleasant reminiscence of Handel's so-called "Harmonious Blacksmith"
variations.