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Pianoforte Sonata

<h3>SCHUMANN, CHOPIN, BRAHMS, AND LISZT</h3> After Beethoven, the first composer of note was Robert Schumann, one of the founders of the so-called romantic school. In one of his letters he refers to Beethoven's choral symphony "as the turning-point from the classical to the romantic period." By reading, Schumann had cultivated his imagination, but his musical training was irregular; and, indeed, when he first commenced composing, practically nil. If his soul was stirred by some poem, or tale, or by remembrance of some dear friend, he sought to express his thoughts and feelings, and on the spur of the moment. In a letter he writes: "I have been all the week at the piano, composing, writing, laughing, and crying, all at once. You will find this state of things nicely described in my Op. 20, the 'Grosse Humoreske,' which is already at the printer's. You see how quickly I always work now. I get an idea, write it down, and have it printed; that's what I like. Twelve sheets composed in a week!" And thus short-tone poems, or a long piece, such [Pg 208]as the "Humoreske," of irregular form, were the result. Now that was not the way in which he composed his two sonatas. He was two years, off and on, at work on the first, in F sharp minor (Op. 11), and eight on the other, in G minor (Op. 22). One may therefore conclude that the fetters of form were a source of trouble to him. And he can scarcely have felt very enthusiastic over his task; in 1839, after both sonatas were completed, he declared that "although from time to time fine specimens of the sonata species made their appearance, and, probably, would continue to do so, it seemed as if that form of composition had run its appointed course." Of the two sonatas, the one in F sharp minor is the more interesting. The Aria is a movement of exquisite simplicity and tenderness, and the Scherzo, with its Intermezzo alla burla, has life and character. But the Allegro, which follows the poetical introduction, and the Finale are patchy, and at times laboured. It must not, however, be supposed that they are uninteresting. The music has poetry and passion, and the strong passages atone for the weak ones. There were composers at that time who could produce sonatas more correct in form, and more logical in treatment, yet not one who could have written music so filled with the spirit of romance. The Sonata in G minor resembles its predecessor both in its strong and its weak points. Considered, however, as a whole, it is less warm, less intense.[Pg 209] It is unnecessary to describe the two works in detail, for they must be familiar to all musicians, and especially pianists. A sympathetic rendering of them will always give pleasure; but in a history of evolution they are of comparatively small moment. It is interesting to compare them with the Fantasia in C (Op. 17), a work in which Schumann displayed the full power of his genius. Chopin was another composer whose spirit moved uneasily within the limits of the sonata. The first which he wrote (we do not reckon the posthumous one in C minor)—the one in B flat minor—is an impressive work. There is a certain rugged power in the opening movement, and the Scherzo is passionate, and its Trio tender. The picturesque March owes much of its effect to its colouring and contrasts; while the extraordinary Finale sounds weird and uncanny. In the hands of a great interpreter the music makes a powerful appeal; yet as a sonata it is not really great. It lacks organic development, unity. The Sonata in B minor, though attractive to pianists, is an inferior work. The first movement, with exception of its melodious second theme, is dry, and the Finale belongs to the bravoura order of piece. The Scherzo is light and graceful. The slow movement is the most poetical of the four, though spun out at too great length. The real Chopin is to be found in his nocturnes, mazurkas, and ballads, not in his sonatas. Among modern sonatas, the three by Brahms[Pg 210] (C, Op. 1; F sharp minor, Op. 2; and F minor, Op. 5) claim special notice. With the exception of the Liszt Sonata in B minor, which, whatever its musical value, at least opens up "new paths" in the matter of form, the Brahms sonatas are the only ones since Schumann which distinctly demand detailed notice. The composer followed ordinary Beethoven lines; with exception of the Intermezzo of the 3rd Sonata, the number and order of movement resemble those of many a Beethoven sonata; while there is enlargement, not change in the matter of form. Brahms studied the special means by which his great predecessor, in some instances, sought to accentuate the unity between various sections of a sonata; he steeped his soul in the romantic music of Beethoven, Schubert, Chopin, and Schumann, and, in addition, trained his intellect to grasp the mysteries of counterpoint, and to perceive the freer modern uses to which it was put by the classical masters. Brahms' early acquaintance with Liszt opened up to him, too, the resources of modern technique. And thus, possessing individuality of his own, in addition to these inheritances and acquirements, Brahms wrote sonatas, which, though in the main on old lines, are no mere imitations, pale reflexes of his predecessors. The 1st Sonata, in C (Op. 1), has for its opening theme one which has been said to resemble the opening theme of Beethoven's Op. 106. It will be well to look on this picture (Beethoven)— [Pg 211] <ANTIMG src="images/music079.png" alt="Beethoven, op. 106" width-obs="307" height-obs="92" /> To hear this music (MIDI), click here. To view the Lilypond source file, click here.   and on this (Brahms)— <ANTIMG src="images/music080.png" alt="Brahms, op. 1" width-obs="253" height-obs="97" /> To hear this music (MIDI), click here. To view the Lilypond source file, click here.   There is resemblance in the matter of rhythm, but the up-beat in Beethoven constitutes a marked difference; and, besides, the succession of notes differs in each case. Brahms's theme, already at the eighth bar, recommences in a key a tone lower; a similar proceeding, by the way, is to be found in Beethoven's Sonata in G (Op. 31, No 1). After a few points of imitation, and digression through various keys, we meet with a new theme in A minor, the soft, tender character of which contrasts well with the bold opening one. But unity amid diversity is Brahms' aim; and here the contrast does not prevent a certain kinship between them—one, however, which can be felt rather than explained.[105] Of another pianissimo phrase, still in A minor, much use is afterwards made. The prominence given in the exposition section to the subject-matter styled "secondary," and still more so in the development section, is peculiar; this feature had certainly not been copied from Beethoven, who, as a rule, made his first [Pg 212]theme of first importance. Brahms concludes his exposition section in the opening key of the movement,—a return to early methods; Beethoven adopted a similar course in the first movement of his Op. 53. Brahms' development section is comparatively short. Of counterpoint we get a good illustration in the combinations of both first and second themes; of colour, in the presentation of the mournful minor theme in the major key; and of originality, in the bars leading to the recapitulation. In this last instance, the idea of gradually drawing closer together the members of a phrase was borrowed from Beethoven, but not the manner in which it is carried out. In the earlier master it often stands out as a special feature; here we have, besides, counter rhythm, and ambiguous modulation. When the principal theme returns, it is clothed first with subdominant, then with tonic minor harmony. The movement concludes with a vigorous coda evolved from the opening theme. Five bars from the end, the first two bars of that theme are given out in their original form; and then, as if repetition were not sufficient, a thematic cadence is added, in which the notes are given in loud tones, in augmented form, and, in addition, with slackened tempo (largamente). The slow movement (Andante) was, we believe, one of Brahms' earliest efforts at composition; it is said to have been written by him at the age of fourteen. It consists of a theme with variations; and the former is based on an old[Pg 213] German Minnelied. The words of the folk song are written beneath the notes, as if to put the listener into the right mood.[106] We need not dwell on the variations, in which Beethoven and Schubert are the prevailing influences, though not to any alarming extent. The music is by no means difficult; for Brahms, indeed, remarkably easy. The movement opens in C minor, but closes in C major. A Scherzo follows (E minor, six-eight time; Allegro molto e con fuoco); it has a trio in C major. The Scherzo, with its varied rhythm, is full of life; the Trio, interesting in harmony, and also in the matter of rhythm. The Finale (another Allegro con fuoco; the young composer has mounted his fiery Pegasus) opens in C, in nine-eight time, thus— <ANTIMG src="images/music081.png" alt="Brahms, op. 1, Finale" width-obs="230" height-obs="83" /> To hear this music (MIDI), click here. To view the Lilypond source file, click here.   a metamorphosis, in fact, of the opening theme of the sonata. And later on we have a similar re-presentation of subject-matter from the first movement. This Finale is musically and technically attractive, yet scarcely on the same high level as the first movement. But the age of the composer must be taken into consideration; for quite a young man, it is a wonderful production. The 2nd Sonata (Op. 2) is in F sharp minor. The Allegro non troppo ma energico is a move[Pg 214]ment which in its subject-material breathes the spirit of Chopin: the weird, stormy opening in the principal key may claim kinship with the opening of the Polish composer's "Polonaise" in the same key; while a certain strain in the melodious second subject brings to one's mind a Chopin Nocturne, also in F sharp minor; in neither case, however, is there anything amounting to plagiarism. The exposition section is not repeated. The development is clever, though, perhaps, somewhat formal. Again here, the secondary theme occupies, apparently, chief attention; but it is supported by a bass evolved from a principal motive. And in transition passages of the exposition, and also in the recapitulation section and coda— <ANTIMG src="images/music082.png" alt="Brahms, op. 2" width-obs="243" height-obs="98" /> To hear this music (MIDI), click here. To view the Lilypond source file, click here.   in one or other shape, makes itself heard; so that, though outwardly subordinate, its function is important: it binds together various portions of the movement, and thus promotes union. The Andante which follows, consists, as in the 1st Sonata, of a theme with variations. There is nothing novel either in the theme or its mode of treatment. Certain chords, cadences, figures, suggest Schubert—an idol whom Brahms has never ceased to worship; and, in one place, the three staves, and a few passages, show the influence of Liszt, the pianist par excellence of the days in which this sonata was written; but the [Pg 215]movement has, in addition to romantic charm, individuality. It commences in B minor; then after a short expressive passage in major, an arpeggio chord leads directly to the Scherzo; the following shows the outward connection between the two movements— <table border="0" summary="Brahms op. 2" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse" width="75%" id="AutoNumber12"> <tbody> <tr> <td> <ANTIMG src="images/music083.png" alt="Brahms, op. 2, commencement of Andante theme" width-obs="242" height-obs="128" /></td> <td> <ANTIMG src="images/music084.png" alt="Brahms, op. 2, Scherzo" width-obs="215" height-obs="107" /> </td> </tr> <tr> <td> To hear this music (MIDI), click here. To view the Lilypond source file, click here. </td> <td>To hear this music (MIDI), click here. To view the Lilypond source file, click here. </td> </tr> </tbody> </table> This bright, clever Scherzo, with its soft Schubertian trio, need not detain us. The final Allegro is preceded by a short introduction, in which the chief theme and other material of the Finale are set forth. The connection between this and the earlier movements of the sonata is not evident, like the one, for instance, already noticed, between the Andante and the Scherzo; with research, and possibly some imagination, relationship might, however, be traced. We are far from asserting that movements of a sonata ought to be visibly connected; after all, the true bond of union must be a spiritual one. But if an attempt be made in that direction, surely the opening and closing movements are those which, by preference, should be selected. In his Op. 28 Beethoven seems to have evolved the themes of all four movements from the first; in Op. 106 and Op. 109, connection is clear between the first and last movements. Such an experiment was safe in the hands of Beethoven, and Brahms has never [Pg 216]allowed it to become a mannerism; but second-rate composers, and superficial listeners run the danger of mistaking the shadow for the substance. To this matter we shall, however, soon return. Many references have been made to the composers who have influenced Brahms, yet we cannot resist naming one more. The opening section of this Allegro Finale reminds one more than once of the corresponding section in Clementi's fine Sonata in B minor. The music of this concluding movement is clever. The 3rd sonata (Op. 5) is in F minor. The Allegro opens with a wild, sinister theme, and one which even casts a shadow over the calm, hope-inspiring strains afterwards heard in the orthodox key of the relative major. The tender melodies and soft chromatic colouring which fill the remainder of the exposition section show strong feeling for contrast. Again, storm and stress alternate with comparative calm in the development section. The Andante expressivo bears the following superscription:— <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> Der Abend dämmert, das Mondlicht scheint Da sind zwei Herzen in Liebe vereint Und halten sich selig umfangen. —Sternau. </div> </div> And it offers a delightful tone-picture. The moon "o'er heaven's clear azure spreading her sacred light," the calm of evening, and happy, though ever-sighing, lovers: 'tis a scene to tempt poet, painter, and musician. The last, however, seems [Pg 217]to have greatest advantage; music by imitation and association can describe scenes of nature; and it can paint, for are not its harmonies colours? But the musician can do what is possible to neither poet nor painter,—he can make a direct appeal to the emotions in their own language. The soft, dreamy coda—which, with its Andante molto, its Adagio, and widened-out closing cadence, seems to indicate the unwillingness of the lovers to part—has Schubert colouring and charm. The reminiscence, at the commencement of this movement, of the middle movement of the "Pathétique" cannot fail to attract attention. Then, again, the opening of the Scherzo[107]— <ANTIMG src="images/music085.png" alt="Brahms, op. 5, Scherzo" width-obs="742" height-obs="118" /> To hear this music (MIDI), click here. To view the Lilypond source file, click here.   sounds familiar. It must surely have been this movement in which someone pointed out to the composer a reminiscence of Mendelssohn. "Anyone can find that out," was the rough-and-ready reply of Brahms. But if Mendelssohn be the prevailing influence in the Scherzo, Schubert has his turn in the Trio. The fourth movement is an Intermezzo, entitled "Rückblick" (Retrospect). The opening phrase, and indeed the whole of the short movement, carries us back to the picture of the lovers. Some change has taken place: have the lovers grown cold? or has death divided them? The [Pg 218]themes are now sad, and clothed in minor harmonies. The Finale, perhaps, shows skill rather than inspiration; with regard to some of the subject-matter, it is, like the previous movement, also retrospective. Liszt's sonata in B minor, dedicated to Robert Schumann, was evidently written under the special influence of Beethoven's later sonatas,—perhaps more particularly the one in A flat, Op. 110. There is by no means unanimity of opinion among musicians with regard to Liszt's merit as a composer; some consider that his genius has not yet been properly recognised; others, that he will not for a moment bear comparison with any one of the great masters who preceded him, and who wrote for the pianoforte. Among his works which have specially given rise to discussion stands this B minor Sonata, which has proved a stumbling-block, both on account of its form and its contents. It would simplify matters if the one could be discussed without the other; this, however, is not possible. We have hitherto considered the sonata of three movements as typical, and from that type Liszt's work differs; yet not "so widely, as on a first hearing or reading may appear." Thus wrote Mr. C.A. Barry in a remarkably interesting analysis of the sonata which he prepared some years back for Mr. Oscar Beringer. He remarks further: "All the leading characteristics of a sonata in three movements are here fully maintained within the scope of a single movement, or, to speak more precisely, [Pg 219]an uninterrupted succession of several changes of tempo, thus constituting a more complete organism than can be attained by three distinct and independent movements." The idea of passing from one movement to another without break dates from Emanuel Bach, nay, earlier, from Kuhnau; and Beethoven occasionally adopted it, and with striking effect. The wretched habit at concerts of applauding between the movements of a sonata establishes a break where—at any rate in certain sonatas of Beethoven—the composer certainly imagined an uninterrupted succession. The second movement of the "Appassionata" breaks off with an arpeggio chord of diminished seventh, and the Finale starts on the same chord. Yet surely after the final tonic chord of the opening Allegro there should be no break, but only a brief pause. A fermata in the middle of a movement does not constitute a break, neither need it at the end. In Beethoven's sonatas we find many movements, outwardly independent, yet inwardly connected; those of the D minor and F minor may be named by way of illustration. The composer, however, in one or two of his works, revived, to some extent, the plan adopted in the suites of early times, of evolving various movements from one theme. Such outward connection may help to strengthen a bond of union already existing, but it will not establish it. The question, then, of Liszt's "more complete organism" depends, after all, on the contents of the music.[Pg 220] So, too, when, in addition to uninterrupted succession, Liszt makes the one theme of the slow introduction the source whence he derives the principal part of his tone-picture, everything depends on the quality and latent power of this fertilising germ. Discussion of form per se is an impossibility. This Liszt sonata stands, however, as a bold attempt to modify a form which, as we have seen, Schumann thought exhausted (was it for that reason that Liszt dedicated the work to him?), and one in which so many soulless compositions were written during the second quarter of the present century. "La sonate," says Charles Soullier in his Nouveau Dictionnaire de Musique Illustré "est morte avec le dix-huitième siècle qui en a tant produit." Is Liszt's sonata a Phoenix rising from its ashes? Shall we be able to say "La sonate est morte! Vive la sonate!" Time will tell. Hitherto Liszt's work has not borne fruit. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> [Pg 221] <h2>CHAPTER X</h2> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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