TWO CONTEMPORARIES OF BEETHOVEN
I. Weber
The two greatest contemporaries of Beethoven were, undoubtedly, Carl
Maria von Weber and Franz Schubert, and both wrote pianoforte sonatas.
Many other composers of that period--some of them possessed of
considerable talent--devoted themselves to that branch of musical
literature: Steibelt (1764-1823), Woelfl (1772-1812), J.B. Cramer
(1771-1858), J.N. Hummel (1778-1837), F.W.M. Kalkbrenner (1788-1849),
and others. Of these, the first three may be named sonata-makers. The
number which they produced is positively alarming; but it is some
consolation to think that a knowledge of their works is not of
essential importance. Steibelt's sonata in E flat (dedicated to Mme.
Buonaparte) was given once at the Popular Concerts in 1860, and
Woelfl's "Ne plus Ultra" sonata, several times between 1859 and 1873;
not one, however, of the 105 said to have been written by J.B. Cramer
has ever been heard there.[100] Most of these works justly merit the
oblivion into which they have fallen; some are quite second, or even
third rate; others were written merely as show pieces,[101] and are
now, of course, utterly out of date; and many were written for
educational purposes, or to suit popular taste (sonatas containing
variations on national and favourite airs, light rondos, etc.).[102]
Cramer's studies have achieved world-wide reputation, and, as music,
they are often interesting. Also in his sonatas are to be found many
serious, well-written movements; musical taste has, however, so
changed since the rise of the romantic school, that it is doubtful
whether they would be now acceptable even as teaching pieces.
Hummel's few sonatas have suffered at the hand of time; but, though
the music be mechanical, and therefore cold, there is much to interest
pianists in the two sonatas in F sharp minor (Op. 81) and D major (Op.
106). These were written after the composer's appointment at Weimar in
1820. His two early sonatas (Op. 13, in E flat, and Op. 20, dedicated
to Haydn) are not easy, yet not so difficult as the two just
mentioned.
Steibelt and Woelfl both measured themselves with Beethoven in the art
of improvisation. The former was so ignominiously defeated that he
never ventured to meet his rival again. Woelfl, however, fared better.
With his long fingers he could accomplish wonders on the instrument;
but only so far as technique was concerned did he surpass Beethoven.
Carl Maria v. Weber (1786-1826) in early youth studied the pianoforte
under two able court organists, J.P. Heuschkel[103] and J.N.
Kalcher,[104] both of whom he always held in grateful remembrance.
Under the direction of the latter he wrote some pianoforte sonatas,
which, according to the statement of his son and biographer, M.M. v.
Weber, were accidentally destroyed. Later on he studied under Vogler
and other masters. He became a famous pianist, and at Berlin, in 1812,
composed his 1st Sonata in C (Op. 24). No. 2, in A flat (Op. 39), was
commenced at Prague in 1814, and completed at Berlin in 1816. No. 3,
in D minor (Op. 49), was also written at Berlin, and in the same year.
No. 4, in E minor (Op. 70), occupied the composer between the years
1819 and 1822; it was written at Hosterwitz, near Dresden, during the
time he was at work on his opera _Euryanthe_.
Weber and Schubert are both classed as contemporaries of Beethoven,
yet the latter was also their predecessor. Of Schubert we shall speak
presently. As regards Weber, it should be remembered that before he
had written his sonata in C (Op. 24) Beethoven had already published
"Les Adieux" (Op. 81A). The individuality of the composer of _Die
Freischütz_ was, however, so strong, that we meet with no direct
traces of the influence of Beethoven in his pianoforte music.
The Weber sonatas have been described by Dr. P. Spitta as "fantasias
in sonata-form," and this admirably expresses the character of these
works. Weber followed the custom of his day in writing sonatas, but it
seems as though he would have accomplished still greater things had he
given full rein to his imagination, and allowed subject-matter to
determine form. Like his great contemporary, of whom we have next to
speak, Weber, in spite of Vogler's teaching, was not a strong
contrapuntist; he relied chiefly upon melody, harmonic effects, and
strong contrasts. His romantic themes, his picturesque colouring,
enchant the ear, and the poetry and passion of his pianoforte music,
both intensified by grand technique, stir one's soul to its very
depths; yet the works are of the fantasia, rather than of the sonata
order. We have the letter rather than the true spirit of a sonata.
Place side by side Weber's Sonata in A flat (the greatest of the four)
and Beethoven's D minor or "Appassionata," and the difference will be
at once felt. In the latter there is a latent power which is wanting
in the former. It seems as if one could never sound the depths of
Beethoven's music: fresh study reveals new beauties, new details; the
relation of the parts to the whole (not only of the sections of a
movement, but of the movements _inter se_), and, therefore, the unity
of the whole becomes more evident. We must not be understood to mean
that Weber worked without plan, or even careful thought; but merely,
that the organic structure of his sonatas is far less closely knit
than in those of the Bonn master; there is contrast rather than
concatenation of ideas, outward show rather than inner substance. The
slow movements (with exception of those of the 1st and 2nd Sonatas,
which have somewhat of a dramatic character) and Finales are
satisfactory, _per se_, as music: the former have charm, refinement;
the latter, elegance, piquancy, brilliancy. Now, in these sonatas,
the opening movements seem like the commencement of some tragedy: in
No. 2 there is nobility mixed with pathos; in No. 3, fierce passion;
and in No. 4, still passion, albeit of a tenderer, more melancholy
kind. But in the Finales it is as though we had passed from the
tragedy of the stage to the melodrama, or frivolity of the
drawing-room; they offer, it is true, strong contrast, yet not of the
right sort, not that to which Beethoven has accustomed us.
Throughout the four sonatas we detect the hand of a great pianist. In
the first, the element of virtuosity predominates; the first and,
especially, the last movement (the so-called Perpetuum mobile) are
show pieces, though of a high order. In the other sonatas the same
element exists, and yet it seldom obtrudes itself; the composer is
merely using, to the full, the rich means at his command to express
his luxuriant and poetical thoughts. In his writing for the instrument
Weber recalls Dussek,--the Dussek of the "Retour à Paris" and
"Invocation" sonatas. The earlier master was also a great pianist, and
filled with the spirit of romance; still he lacked the force and fire
of Weber. Then, again, Dussek, in early manhood, passed through the
classical crucible, whereas Weber was born and bred very much _à la
Bohémienne_; he developed from within rather than from without. It is
easier to criticise than to create. If we cannot place the sonatas of
Weber on the same high level as those of Beethoven, we may at least
say that they take very high rank; also, that in the hands of a great
pianist they are certain to produce a powerful impression.
II. Schubert
The other great contemporary of Beethoven was Franz Schubert, born in
1797, the year in which the former published his Sonata in E flat (Op.
7). Then, again, Schubert's earliest pianoforte sonata was composed in
February 1815, while Beethoven's Sonata in A (Op. 101) was produced at
a concert only one year later (16th February 1816). It is well to
remember these dates, by which we perceive that Beethoven had written
twenty-seven of his thirty-two sonatas before Schubert commenced
composing works of this kind. But though here and there the influence
of the Bonn master may be felt in Schubert, the individuality of the
latter was so strong, that we regard him as an independent
contemporary. The influence of Haydn and Mozart, _plus_ his own mighty
genius, seem almost sufficient to account for Schubert's music. The
new edition of the composer's works published by Messrs. Breitkopf &
Härtel contains fifteen sonatas for pianoforte solo. The first four--
No. 1, in E (1815),
No. 2, in C (1815),
No. 3, in A flat (1817), and
No. 4, in E minor (1817),
had hitherto only been known by name.
In following the career of a great composer, his first efforts,
however humble, however incomplete, are of interest; but from a purely
musical point of view the Minuets of Nos. 2 and 3 are the most
attractive portions of these sonatas; we catch in them glimpses of
that freshness and romantic beauty which characterise Schubert's later
productions.
In moments of strong inspiration, Schubert worked wonders, yet the
lack of regular and severe study often makes itself felt. Though
colouring may enhance counterpoint, it will not serve as a substitute
for it. Then there is, at times, monotony of rhythm; and this, to a
great extent, was the result of little practice in the art "of
combining melodies."
While on the subject of Schubert's failings, we may as well complete
the catalogue. In the later sonatas we meet with diffuseness; and
sometimes a stroke of genius is followed by music which, at any rate
for Schubert, is commonplace. It seems presumption to weigh the
composer in critical balances, and to find him wanting; but he stands
here side by side with Beethoven, and the contrast between the two men
forces itself on our notice. Both were richly endowed by nature. By
training, and the power of self-criticism which the latter brings with
it, Beethoven was able to make the most of his gifts; Schubert, on the
other hand, by the very lavish display which he sometimes made,
actually weakened them. There is no page of musical history more
touching than the one which records how the composer, after having
written wonderful songs, grand symphonies, and other works too
numerous to mention, made arrangements to study with S. Sechter, one
of the most eminent theorists of the day. The composer paid the latter
a visit on the 4th November 1828; but within a fortnight, Schubert was
no longer in the land of the living. When too late, he seems to have
made the discovery which, perhaps, his very wealth of inspiration had
hidden from him up to that moment, namely, that discipline strengthens
genius. One may point out faults in Schubert's art-works, yet his
melodies and harmonies are so bewitching, his music altogether so full
of spontaneity and inspiration, that for the time being one is
spellbound. Schumann was fairly right when he described Schubert's
lengths as "heavenly."
Three more sonatas were produced in the year 1817, the first in the
unusual key of B major; and here we find a marked advance in
conception and execution. It opens with an Allegro, the total effect
of which, however, is not satisfactory; the principal theme has
dramatic power, and what follows has lyrical charm, but the
development section is disappointing. The Adagio seems like an
arrangement of a lovely symphonic movement; the orchestra, and not the
pianoforte, must have been in the composer's mind when he penned it.
The lively Scherzo, with its quiet Trio, is a little gem. The
clear-cut, concise form of such movements saved Schubert from all
danger of diffuseness; and in them, as Mozart remarked to the Emperor
Joseph, who complained of the number of notes in his opera, _Die
Entführung_, there are "just as many as are necessary." The sonata in
A minor (Op. 164), which consists of three movements, is short and
delightful from beginning to end. In the opening Allegro the second
subject occurs, by way of exception, in the major key of the
submediant. There is much to admire in the 3rd, in E flat, especially
the Minuet and Trio; yet the music is not pure Schubert. About six
years elapsed between this and the next sonata, in A minor (1823).
Schubert had already written his B minor Symphony, and though the
first two movements of the sonata will not compare with those of the
former in loftiness of conception, there is a certain kinship between
the two works. In both there are fitful gusts of passion, a feeling of
awe, and a tone of sadness which tells of disappointed hopes, of lost
illusions. The Finale, though fine, stands on a lower level. During
the years 1825-26, Schubert wrote, besides one in A major (Op. 120),
three magnificent sonatas: one in A minor, dedicated to the Archduke
Rudolph (Op. 42), another in D (Op. 53), and a third in G (Op. 78). In
these three works we have the composer's ripest efforts. The first
movement of the 1st, in A minor, is well-nigh perfect. That opening
phrase--
[Music illustration]
haunts one like a sad dream; and the development section, long,
though not monotonous, is full of it. Without sacrificing his
individuality, Schubert has here caught something of Beethoven's
peculiar method of treating a theme,--that is, of evolving new phrases
from its various sections. The coda, again, has penetrating power, and
the fierce concluding phrase sounds like the passionate resistance of
a proud artist to the stern degrees of fate. The tender melody and
delicate variations of the Andante, the bold Scherzo, with its soft
Trio, and the energetic Finale are all exceedingly interesting; yet
they do not affect us like the first movement, in which lies not only
the majesty, but the mystery of genius. The sonata in D has a vigorous
opening Allegro,--a long, lovely, slow movement,--a crisp Scherzo, but
a peculiar Finale, one which Schumann qualifies as comical
(possirlich). The sonata in G contains some of the composer's most
charming, characteristic music. The opening _moderato e cantabile_ is
a tone-poem of touching pathos. The sad principal theme is supported
by such soft, tender harmonies, that its very sadness charms. In the
development section it assumes a different character. Melancholy gives
place to passion, at times fierce; then calm returns. The coda is one
of the most fascinating ever penned by Schubert. The slow movement and
Menuetto form worthy companions; but with the Finale the composer
breaks the spell. Schumann says: "Keep away from it; it has no
imagination, no enigma to solve."
The last three sonatas (in C minor, A, and B flat) were composed in
September 1828, not three months before the death of the composer. In
the opening theme of No. 2, determination and confidence are
expressed, while in the Scherzo and Rondo there is even sunshine,
though now and again black clouds flit across the scene. But in the
Adagio, and in all the movements of the other two sonatas, the mood is
either one of sadness, more or less intense, dark despair, or fierce
frenzy. Music can express both joy and sorrow, though the latter seems
more congenial to it. Mournful strains are an echo, as it were, of the
"still, sad music of humanity." Grief, too, sharpens the imagination;
and music produced under its influence stirs a sensitive soul more
powerfully than the brightest, merriest sounds. But these three
sonatas, though they contain wonderful thoughts and some of Schubert's
grandest, and most delicate harmonic colouring, fall short of
perfection. They are too long, not because they cover so many pages,
but because there is a lack of balance; at times, indeed, the composer
seems to lose all sense of proportion. Then, again, the weakness of
Schubert in the art of development is specially felt; the noble
themes, on the whole, lose rather than gain by the loose, monotonous,
and, in some places, even trivial treatment to which they are
subjected. And what is more fatal than a lack of gradation of
interest? In a truly great work of art, be it poem, tragedy, sonata,
or symphony, the author carries his readers or audience along with
him from one point to another,--he gives no time for rest or
reflection; and when he has worked them up to the highest pitch, he
stops, and there is an awakening, as it were, from some wonderful
dream. If afterwards the work be analysed, the pains with which it was
built up can be traced; the powerful effect which it produced will be
found due, not alone to the creative power, the imagination of the
author, but also to his dialectic skill and to his critical faculty.
It is all very well to talk of great works as the fruits of hot
inspiration and not cold intellect. A masterpiece is the outcome of
both; the one provides the material, the other shapes it. Schubert was
an inspired composer, but most of his works, especially those of large
compass, show that he was mastered by moods, not that he was master of
them. It may be said that many who can appreciate beautiful music have
not the bump of intellect strongly developed, and would not therefore
be affected by any such shortcomings; that they would simply enjoy the
music. That is very likely, but here we are analysing and comparing;
and neither the beauty nor even grandeur of the music, nor the effect
which it might produce on certain minds, concerns us. There are many
persons who have had no technical training, but who possess a true
sense of order, proportion, and gradation; and such instinctively feel
that Schubert's sonatas, in spite of their many striking qualities,
are not so great as those of Beethoven. We have referred more than
once to the Popular Concert catalogue, which is a very fair
thermometer of public taste. One can see how seldom the Schubert
sonatas are performed in comparison with those of his great
contemporary. But to refer specially to the three last sonatas now
under notice. The one in B flat (No. 3) was played by Mr. Leonard
Borwick, it is true, on the 3rd February 1894, but the previous date
of performance was 16th January 1882. No. 2, in A, was last given in
1882, and No. 1 has not been heard since 1879.
The Allegro of the C minor sonata opens with a bold theme, and an
energetic transition passage leads to the dominant of the relative
major key. Of the soft second theme Schubert seems so fond, that he is
loth to quit it; he repeats it in varied form, and still after that,
it is heard in minor. This unnecessarily lengthens the exposition
section, which, in addition, has the repeat mark. The development
section is rather vague, but the coda is impressive: the long
descending phrase and the sad repeated minor chords at the close
suggest exhaustion after fierce conflict. The theme of the Adagio, in
A flat, partly inspired by Beethoven, is noble, and full of tender,
regretful feeling; the opening and close of the movement are the
finest portions. The Minuet and Trio are effective, but the final
Allegro is hopelessly long, and by no means equal to the rest of the
work.
The first movement of the sonata in A has a characteristic principal
theme, and one in the dominant key of bewitching beauty. The coda
gives a last reminiscence of the opening theme; but its almost defiant
character has vanished away; for it is now played pianissimo.
Schubert, in the importance of his codas, recalls Beethoven; each,
however, made it serve a different purpose. The latter, at any rate in
his Allegro movements, gathers together his strength, as if for one
last, supreme effort. Schubert, on the other hand, seems rather as if
his strength were spent, and as if he could only give a faint echo of
his leading theme. The coda of the first movement of the sonata in A
minor (Op. 42) offers, however, one striking exception. The Andantino
and Scherzo of the A sonata are well-nigh perfect, but the Rondo, in
spite of much that is charming, is of inferior quality and of
irritating length. The 3rd sonata, in B flat, the last of the series,
the _sonate-testament_, as Von Lenz said of Beethoven's Op. 111, has
wonderful moments, yet it contains also lengths which even Schumann
would scarcely have ventured to style "heavenly." We refer
particularly to the first and last movements; the Andante and Scherzo
are beyond criticism.
These sonatas were written as Schubert was about to enter the Valley
of the Shadow of Death. His spirit was still strong, but his flesh
must have been weak. To turn away from them on account of any
imperfections, would be to lose some of Schubert's loftiest thoughts,
some of his choicest tone-painting.