One of Beethoven's most prominent characteristics, without a special consideration of which no account of him would be at all complete, was his humor. In the three foregoing chapters we have had passing glimpses of it: we have noted his distaste for the obvious, the trite, the conventional, and his fondness for breaking in on the tranquillity of his audience, sometimes in danger of lapsing into inattentive dullness, with all manner of shocks and surprises—clashing chords in the midst of soft passages, unexpected modulations to distant keys, piquant interruptions of rhythm, long holds, sudden spasms of wild speed. All such tricks were dear to him as means of avoiding the monotony which is the one unpardonable sin of an artist, and of attaining constant novelty and a kaleidoscopic diversity of effect. None of his predecessors, and perhaps none of his successors, carried to such lengths as he did this peculiar kind of musical humor. It is one of the most essentially "Beethovenish" of all his qualities.
The particular form of movement in which his humor attained its freest scope (though it is hardly ever entirely absent in anything that he wrote) was the minuet of hisearlier, and the scherzo of his later sonatas and symphonies. The minuet of Haydn and Mozart, which we have discussed in Chapter VII, though not entirely lacking in the element of whim and perversity which gives rise to humor, was primarily stately, formal, and suave. When we listen to a minuet of this old school, our mind's eye conjures up the picture of a group of eighteenth century dames and cavaliers, hoop-skirted and bewigged, gravely going through the set evolutions of their dance with unfailing dignity and courtly grace. From such a scene a Beethoven scherzo whisks us in a moment to some merry gathering of peasants, where all is wild conviviality, boisterous rejoicing, and unrestrained high spirits.
Doubtless this contrast was in some measure due, as Sir George Grove points out in an interesting passage, to the differences of the social conditions under which the composers lived. "The musicians of the eighteenth century," he says, "were too commonly the domestic servants of archbishops and princes, wore powder and pigtails, and swords, and court dresses, and gold lace, dined at the servants' table, and could be discharged at a moment's notice like ordinary lackeys. Being thus forced to regulate their conduct by etiquette, they could not suddenly change all their habits when they came to make their music, or give their thoughts and feelings the free and natural vent which they would have had, but for the habits engendered by the perpetual curb and restraint of their social position. But Beethoven had set such social rules and restrictions at naught. It was his nature, one of the most characteristicthings in him, to be free and unrestrained. Almost with his first appearance in Vienna he behaved as the equal of everyone he met, and after he had begun to feel his own way his music is constantly showing the independence of his mind."[48]
Whatever the causes of this mental independence of Beethoven, whatever part of it was due to changed social conditions, and what to his purely personal character, there is ample testimony to its existence in his biography. The man who could throw a badly cooked stew at the head of the waiter, who could in a fit of temper publicly shake his fist under the window of one of his best friends and patrons, who could haughtily refuse to make the ordinary salutations to his emperor and empress on a chance meeting, lest he appear servile, and who when he was asked whether he were of noble blood answered proudly that his nobility lay in his head and in his heart, was not likely to pay exaggerated respect to traditions, whether in life or in art. Indeed, perhaps the deepest secret of his greatness was that while, as his sketch-books signally prove, he spared no pains or labor to conform his work to those great natural laws which are above all individual wills, he paid not the slightest respect to mere rules and conventions, and held especially in contempt the arbitrary codes of pedants and pedagogues. "It is not allowed?" he inquired quizzically, when some such dogmatist objected to a passage he had written: "Very well, then,Iallow it."
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FIGURE LVIII.
Little wonder is it, then, that such a daring spirit, sucha hater of the timid and the droning, such a passionate lover of the individual, the striking, the bizarre, and even the grotesque, found a congenial task in infusing humor and irresponsibility into the classic minuet. This form, already the lightest part of the sonata and symphony, already consecrated to the expression of the composer's gayest and most graceful thoughts, needed only to be made plastic enough to include fantasy and banter in order to give free scope to Beethoven's most frolicsome moods. To the task of thus aerating the symphonic minuet he applied himself very early. Take, as an instance, the minuet of the very first piano sonata, opus 2, number 1.As a whole it breathes the polite graciousness of Mozart. The first cadence, especially, recalls the sweetly formal manner of the old school. (See Figure LVIII(a).) Yet a moment later Beethoven begins to play with this very cadence in true scherzo fashion, like a cat with a mouse, twice pawing it gently, so to speak, and then pouncing on it with fury: ((b) in the same figure.)
In the other two sonatas bearing the same opus number he adopts the name scherzo—which is an Italian word meaning "joke" or "jest"—and with it introduces still more of the playful spirit; and as the sonatas progress we find this tendency growing, until in opus 26 and opus 28 we have full-fledged, though rather brief, examples of the real Beethoven scherzo. Let us look at these more carefully.
Beethoven: Scherzo[49]from the Twelfth Sonata, opus 26.
We note first of all that though the time-signature is three-four, as in the old minuet, the pace is much more rapid—"allegro molto"—so that a sense of bustle and restless activity is substituted for the well-bred deliberateness of the minuet. This acceleration of time is observable in most of the scherzos.
Again, the theme (measures 1-17) is of most energetic character, which is even further intensified, on its re-entrancein the bass at measure 46, by a rushing accompaniment in eighth-notes.
A characteristic passage precedes this return of the theme. To make the excitement more welcome when it comes Beethoven has one of his "lulls" for sixteen measures (31-46), during which the motion dies out and all seems to stagnate for a moment. This sort of quiescence, in which one takes breath for a new access of energy, is always consummately managed by Beethoven, who has made the "lull" a famous device.
The trio calls for no particular comment. It is in binary form, while the scherzo itself is ternary.
Beethoven: Scherzo from the Fifteenth Sonata, opus 28.
The tempo is again brisk—"allegro vivace."
The theme is exceedingly whimsical: long notes jumping down through four octaves—first single notes, then thirds, then sixths—followed each time by a quaint little cadence in which the staccato touch is prominent.
The section of contrast after the double-bar (measures 33-48) takes the form of a sequence, in which the left hand part carries the original theme.
In the return of the theme we find one of those violent dynamic contrasts so beloved by Beethoven, the theme in measures 49-53 being sounded in a mildpianoand then, without warning, in measures 58-61, pealed forthfortissimoin large chords.
The trio is again inconspicuous, save for its charming harmonization.
These two scherzos give a good idea of how Beethoven gives play to his whimsicality in his piano sonatas,[50]but to get the Beethoven scherzo at its highest power we must go to the symphonies. There he has all the wondrous potentialities of instrumental coloring to fire his imagination, and a canvas broad enough to afford scope for endless ingenuity. It is a fascinating study to trace out how he gradually advanced in the power to utilize all these possibilities.
The third movement of the first symphony, though called "Minuetto," is marked "allegro molto e vivace," and with its spirited theme, fascinating harmonies, and striking rhythms, is essentially a scherzo. Perhaps the most interesting single feature of it is the completely Beethovenish means adopted for getting back to the theme and the home key of C-major after the section of contrast.
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FIGURE LIX.
The passage is shown in Figure LIX, and merits careful study. From D-flat major, a key far distant from C, return is made by imperceptible degrees. At the same time there is a crescendo of power, until finally the theme breaks out vigorously in the home-key. It will be noted that the brief phrases played by the left hand in this passage are made from the first two notes of the theme itself. Thus closely does Beethoven stick to his text.
The forcible syncopated rhythms and dissonant harmonies near the end of this movement also deserve notice. They give it a rugged character strangely at variance with its title of "minuet."
In the second symphony the name scherzo is adopted, and the phials of mirth are freely opened. Sudden alternations of loud and soft are especially conspicuous, as will be seen by referring to the theme, quoted in (a) in Figure LX. Each new measure, here, brings something unexpected and deliciously piquant.
Violent shifts of accent on to ordinarily unimportant parts of the measure will be noticed in the twenty-first and twenty-fifth measures, affording relief from what might without them become monotonous.
A little later, after the reappearance of the theme,Beethoven indulges in one of those passages which puzzle us and pique our curiosity (Figure LX (b).) Where is he going? we ask ourselves, what will he do next? But after a few moments' suspense, in which the music seems to be spinning about in an eddy, so to speak, it falls into the current again, and all goes cheerfully to the end.
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FIGURE LX.
In the trio, the student should note the whimsicality of the long hold on an F-sharp through six entire measures,pianissimo, followed by a sudden loud chord on A.
Indeed, the prankishness of the entire movement is inexhaustible.
We do not reach the full stature of the Beethoven scherzo, however, until we get to that of the third or "Eroica" symphony. In this wonderful movement we have a perfect masterpiece of irresistible, tireless, kaleidoscopic humor, a great epic of irresponsibility which must be ranked with such unique expressions of the humorous spirit in literature as Shakespeare's Falstaff plays, Sterne's "Sentimental Journey," or Stevenson's "New Arabian Nights." Well may Sir George Grove say of it, that it is "perhaps the mostBeethovenishof all his compositions," and that in it "the tragedy and comedy of life are startlingly combined."
It begins with a stealthy, soft succession of staccato chords in the strings, uniformly pianissimo and yet most insistent in rhythm. Against this is presently outlined the most piquant little theme by the oboe ((a) in Figure LXI); the chords go on again, and then sounds above them once more this incisive little theme. In the contrast section after the double-bar comes first more playing with the rapid soft chords, and then a charming bit of "imitation" of the theme from one voice to another ((b) in Figure LXI). The note D is finally reached in this way, and then Beethoven, instead of making some trite and uninteresting modulation back to E-flat, whither he wishes to go in order to begin his restatement, simply goes on sounding D for ten measures,piano, and then without warning drops down to B-flat,pianissimo, for four measures, and therewith proceeds with his theme again. The mystery and charm of this return to key are indescribable; the persistentpianissimoadds much to its extraordinary effectiveness.
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FIGURE LXI.
Now, however, with the return of the theme, we at last get a good ear-filling fortissimo, the whole orchestrataking part in a vigorous game of musical tag (the theme made into a canon—(c) in Figure LXI). A fine climax is reached in a passage of bold leaping melody in the strings, in which the accents are dramatically placed on the second instead of the first beats of the measures, followed and completed by staccato chords on the wood-wind instruments ((d) in Figure LXI). This is enormously vigorous, and makes a fitting culmination for this first part of the movement, besides giving an opportunity for still greater effect later, as we shall see in a moment. After it, a cadence is soon reached, though not before the strings and wood-wind instruments have had a brief whimsical dialogue on the subject of the staccato chords.
So far all is bantering merriment, iridescent color, and energetic high spirits. But in the trio, one of the most wonderful of all Beethoven's strokes of genius, the mood changes, and while the quick three-four measure is still felt underneath, the long notes, and the deep mellow tones of the horns, give an almost tragic quality to the music. The theme, given out by three horns alone, with a brief cadence by the strings, does not reach its full stature until its recurrence near the end of the trio. In its second phrase the lowest horn reaches, and holds for two measures, a D-flat which is of almost unearthly solemnity of effect. This passage repays careful study, so wonderfully does it use the simplest means to gain the highest beauty. Sir George Grove well says of it: "If ever horns talked like flesh and blood, they do it here."
The scherzo, on its return, goes on much as at first.Yet Beethoven still has one last shot in reserve, as we suggested a moment back. When he comes to that splendidly proud passage of descending leaps in the strings (Figure LXI,d.), instead of repeating it, as he did at first, in the same rhythm, he suddenly transforms it into even half notes, which crash downwards like an avalanche, quite irresistible. (See Figure LXII.) The effect is again indescribable in words; its gigantesque vigor is of a kind to be found nowhere but in Beethoven, and in him only in his inspired moments.
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FIGURE LXII.
In this wonderful movement the Beethoven scherzo first reaches its full stature. It may be questioned whether he ever achieved anything finer.
Yet in its own way the scherzo of the Fifth Symphony[51]is equally original and characteristic, and as we have already analyzed two movements of that symphony we will now make a detailed analysis of this movement too.
Beethoven: Scherzo from the Fifth Symphony.
This scherzo is interlinked with the finale, into which it is merged by a famous passage derived from the scherzo itself, and leading up from the softest pianissimo to a grand outburst of the full orchestra. We shall, however, end our analysis where this passage begins. The complete scherzo, therefore, omitting this link-passage, will have three hundred and thirty measures, which should be numbered continuously for easy reference (counting the first partial measure as one, as well as the incomplete measures at the beginning of the trio).
The theme is of a very curious character, certainly nothing like the usual bustling scherzo theme, but on the contrary mysterious, vague, groping. Berlioz says of it: "It is as fascinating as the gaze of a mesmerizer." After seventeen measures of this, a more energetic, rhythmic theme succeeds (20-45) given out by the horns, fortissimo, with rugged chords in accompaniment, in which we recognize a new variant of that motive of three short notes and a long, which was so prominent in the first movement (see Chapter XII). The remainder of the scherzo proper is worked up out of these two contrasting strains, thus: 46-71, from the first, mysterious one; 72-97, from the second, energetic one; 98-133, beginning softly in mysterywith the first, and later (116) continuing with it a new, more lively melody (note how the phrase of measures 3 and 4 persists in the bass all through this part); 134-141, concluding cadence, on the second strain.
The trio, measures 142 to 238, is irresistibly ludicrous in the elephantine antics through which the unwieldy double-basses are put. They announce (142-148) a scrambling fugue theme, which is "answered"—in imitation—several times at higher pitches (measures 148, 154, 156) by the other and more agile stringed instruments. A sonorous close is reached at the double bar.
Then comes a most grotesque and amusing passage, in which, three several times, these poor lumbering double basses hurl themselves upon the theme, twice only to give up in despair after the first measure and pause as if for breath. The effect of this brave attack and utter failure to "keep up the pace" is irresistibly comic. But the third time proverbially never fails, and in the measures following 168 they hold to their effort with bull-dog tenacity, and succeed in reaching a safe haven in the G of measure 173. Thereupon the theme enters once more above them, and is once more carried through an exciting fugal chase, the entrances, which the student should trace out carefully, occurring in measures 176, 180, 182, and 184, each time a little higher up. The cadence is reached in 200, and the entire passage from the inept onslaughts of the basses is almost literally repeated (200-227), except that now it becomes quieter and quieter, and finally leads back to the mysterious scherzo theme (239-257).
This time the ruggedness of the second strain of the scherzo has all disappeared, and it remains delicate, almost ethereal, through measures 258 to 330, with which the scherzo proper ends. As has been stated, no complete pause is reached before the finale, but instead of the cadence we have placed at the end, there is a long passage leading over into the splendid march-like theme of the last movement. How this passage is made out of the themes of the scherzo itself will be seen by referring to Figure LXIII.
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FIGURE LXIII.
With this scherzo from the Fifth Symphony we may take our farewell of Beethoven for the present, and also of the art in which he represents one of the great culminating points. After him it seemed to musicians for a while as if the triumphs of organic musical structure could nofurther go, and they turned their attention in other directions, and sought for other kinds of interest. But to follow them on these new paths is not a part of our present undertaking.
We have now followed the continuous and unbroken course of the development of music from the most primitive sounds grouped together in rude patterns by savages, up to the symphonies of Beethoven, which must always remain among its most wonderful and perfect monuments. We have seen how all music, which has any beauty or interest, is based on certain short characteristic groups of tones called motives, and how these are made to take on variety, without losing unity, by being "imitated," "transposed," "restated after contrast," "inverted," "augmented" or "diminished," "shifted in rhythm," and otherwise manipulated. We have examined simple cases of this treatment of musical ideas in representative folk-songs. We have seen how the polyphonic style of Bach, in which these bits of melody occur everywhere throughout the tissue of the music, arose and reached its perfection. We have studied the simple dances which, adopted by the musicians of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, were developed by them and combined in "suites." Then, proceeding to a higher stage of artistic evolution, we have examined the various plans which composers devised for making longer pieces in which variety and unity were still able to coexist—such forms as the minuet, the theme and variations, the rondo, and the sonata-form. In conclusion,we have analyzed representative examples of music composed in these typical forms during the great classical period of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven.
Yet all this study and analysis, which may often have seemed to the reader uselessly detailed and dully scientific, has been made with an ulterior aim in view, and unless that aim has been in some degree attained, our work has been futile indeed. The great object of musical analysis must always be to concentrate the attention of the music-lover, to focus his mind as well as his ears on the melodies, and their developments, which he hears, and so eventually to increase his pleasure in music, and to help him to substitute for that "drowsy reverie, relieved by nervous thrills," an active, joyful, vigorous co-operation with composers, through which alone he can truly appreciate their art.
That, and that alone, is the object of the analytic study of music. For what shall it profit a man if he can tell a second theme from a transition-passage, or a minuet from a set of variations, if he has not meanwhile, through this exercise, got into vital contact with the music itself? But that he can do, no matter how great his natural sensibility to sound, only by learning how to listen.