Born October 22, 1811, at Raiding, Hungary.Died July 31, 1886, at Bayreuth.
Unquestionably, Liszt was one of the most interesting personalities of musical history. This began to show itself in his early childhood. Born at Raiding in Hungary, the boy had piano lessons at the age of six, his father having been a good musician himself, playing easily and well upon the piano and many other instruments. At the age of nine the boy appeared in concert with such success that, after a repetition of the concert in a neighboring town, the great Hungarian magnates, Prince Esterhazy at their head, united in providing a stipend of six hundred gulden yearly for his proper education. Thereupon Liszt's father resigned his position and attended scrupulously to his son, removing to Vienna and placing him under the teaching of the famous writer of études, Czerny. Liszt was now ten years old, and for two years he studied in Vienna. At the end of this period a farewell concert was given, in which the boy played with such astonishing power that Beethoven, who was present, came upon the stage and embraced and kissed him at the close of the concert.
Franz LisztFranz Liszt
Franz LisztFranz Liszt
Liszt was now taken to Paris, with the intention of entering him at the Conservatory. But Cherubini, who was then head of the institution, was not favorable to gifted children, and admission was refused him on the ground of his being a foreigner. Accordingly Liszt went on by himself, but entered upon thorough private lessons in counterpoint and instrumentation from Paer and Reicha. He attracted attention in Paris at once, his princely letters of introduction giving him admission in circles where a common person could never enter; once entered, his own genius and fascinating personality did the rest. Liszt seems to have been of a very fine and sincere nature, genial, charming in conversation, having plenty of wit as well as sentiment; entirely free from jealousy, yet most likely feeling within himself powers which as yet had not come to expression. He was singularly pure in character and a universal favorite of women as well as men. In 1824 he made his first concert journey to England, and he played everywhere in France and in parts of Germany. In 1827 his father died, and the boy now had the responsibility of supporting his mother. Accordingly he continued to make his home in Paris, and occupied a part of his time in teaching. At this time he was in the habit of playing such concert numbers as the Weber "Invitation to the Dance,"—with perhaps a few cadenzas of his own, but mainly in the original form,—the Concertstücke of Weber, and now and then a sonata of Beethoven. One of his favorite numbers was a sonata by Czerny, and we find a letter in which he says, substantially (I quote from memory): "Dear Master: I wish you would write me another sonata, for nothing pleases so well as the one you formerly wrote for me."
Liszt does not appear to have entered upon any course as pianist which could be called original or marking out a new path until after Paganini came to Paris, in 1831. This wonderful genius performed the most astonishing and unheard-of things upon the violin. More than a year before this time Robert Schumann had heard him in Milan, and was already beginning to try to do for the piano some of the things which Paganini did upon the violin, in his famous "Studies after Paganini."
Paganini's appearance in Paris set the town on fire, musically, and for some time all attention was centered upon him, to the neglect even of such well-tried favorites as Liszt had by this time become. This fact and the inspiration of his novel playing inspired Liszt to new efforts on his own behalf, and he now entered upon the career of original mastery of the pianoforte and the new style which from this time characterized his works. It is probable that some of his famous "Studies for Transcendent Execution" date from this period, but as he rewrote them twice afterward, it is not possible now to say which ones, or to trace the steps by which he arrived at the many new effects in piano playing which later came from his pen in such astonishing and epoch-marking number.
Berlioz, the father of program music, came back from his residence in Italy in 1833, and brought with him his fantastic symphony, "Episodes in the Life of an Artist." This work Liszt set for the piano, and, if I am right, it was the beginning of the enormous number of transcriptions of orchestral works for piano which are to be found in his works. Liszt had already made a certain mark as composer, his operetta of "Don Sancho" having been produced in 1825.
When Liszt turned his serious attention to composition, which he must have done about this time, he entered earnestly into the path of the so-called "music of the future," although this term had not then been invented. Berlioz had shown himself very bold in his modulations, and the learned Fétis had advocated the closer association of keys which distinguishes the harmonic practice of Richard Wagner from the rules of the classic school. So it was with two fixed ideas that Liszt began to write. First (from Berlioz), that music ought to signify something, adhere more or less closely to a poetic or imaginative program; and, second, that in trying to do this, one might go in any direction needed for the desired tonal effect. Meanwhile, upon the keyboard of the piano he had the individuality of manner which had been developed much sooner, and which was now taking on an astonishing range. Add to these influences the ideas of individuality and human freedom which were in the air, and we need not wonder that the talent of this great artist now blossomed out with such luxuriance that its fragrance filled the world.
It was in 1834 that Liszt's first marriage took place, or as soon after as circumstances warranted. The young and brilliant Countess D'Agoult, wearied with a tyrannic and unsympathetic husband, left him and placed herself under the care of Liszt. They lived during the next three years in Geneva, in a semi-private manner, and here also Liszt continued his studies and experiments. Then, in 1836, he entered upon his great career as performing artist, when he astonished Europe from one end to the other by playing the piano in a manner previously unheard of. His art had everything in it. He had enormous facility, his very long hand giving him the same kind of mastery over technical difficulties that Paganini had upon the finger-board of the violin; and, while indulging in long stretches of pianissimo, he diversified his performances by climaxes of prodigious power, under which for a long time piano hammers gave way, so that often there were three or four grand pianos upon the stage, and as soon as one was knocked out in the melée another was rolled forward to be sacrificed in turn. After a few years the piano-makers found ways of strengthening the actions, so that nowadays such a thing as a hammer breaking in a concert never occurs.
In 1839 Liszt did one of those daring things which hardly any other musician has ever done. Hearing that the committee in charge of raising funds for a Beethoven monument at Bonn had found themselves making little or no headway, Liszt wrote them offering to raise the entire missing sum himself. This he did, and in 1847, I think it was, he himself conducted the musical festival with which the monument was dedicated, himself playing the Fifth Concerto of Beethoven in a manner which Berlioz characterized gloriously in his letters from Bonn to the Paris "Journal des Débats."
In this same year Liszt entered upon the restful period of his life in accepting the position of musical director at Weimar, where he lived and kept up a sort of musical court until 1861, and at intervals afterward. In the exercise of his duties here he was able to accept the manuscript of Wagner's "Lohengrin" when that hot-headed young musician had gotten himself mixed up in the revolution of 1848 at Dresden, and Liszt produced the work at Weimar in 1850. From that time forward Liszt was the mouthpiece of the new school, or rather he was a sort of godfather to it, ministering to Wagner's impecuniousness often and again out of resources which were absurdly small when we consider the rank of genius which the salary covered. Liszt's salary at Weimar was about $1100 a year.
In order to appreciate Liszt's standpoint as pianoforte writer more particularly, it is necessary for a moment to glance at his celebrated contemporary, Thalberg. This artist, born one year later than Liszt, was taught by Hummel and Sechter at Vienna, and in 1827 he made his debut as pianist, exciting admiration by the beauty of his tone, his unexampled equality of running work, and perhaps a little later through an effect of which he was the inventor (at least for the pianoforte)—that, namely, in which the melody is carried by the thumbs in the middle range of the instrument, the long tones being sustained by the pedal while the hands carry long and light running passages across the full range of the instrument. The real inventor of this effect was Parish-Alvars, a great virtuoso of the harp, who was born in 1808. Availing himself of the beautiful melodies of his native Wales, and later of suitable operatic melodies of the Donizetti and Bellini school, he created beautiful effects upon the harp, previously unheard, by means of melodies and surrounding variations or accompanying arabesques of runs, both arpeggios and scales. When Thalberg began to be praised for discovering this device in piano playing there ensued a long and acrimonious correspondence between him and Parish-Alvars, the latter claiming the prior invention—and rightfully so.
Thalberg arrived in Paris in 1836, and for some time there was quite a contest between him and Liszt for superiority of art. Thalberg sang a melody beautifully, and his running work was of the most delightfully clear and even description. He was entirely reposeful in his work, never manifesting any uneasiness of bodily position, no matter what the difficulty of his playing might be. Liszt, on the other hand, being of an impassioned and nervous temperament, had a great deal more motion, and in his brilliant climaxes he developed a strength which seemed excessive to the aristocratic hearers constituting the main portion of his audiences. Presently, however, the honors of the competition went to Liszt, where they have ever since remained.
Liszt had the good fortune to divine the future course of piano development, as also did Schumann. Both took for the strategic center of the piano the principle of what has been called the "differential touch," or discrimination in touch, by means of which not only long passages of different kinds were discriminated from one another, as in the Thalbergian melodies and their surrounding arabesques, but the infinitely finer discriminations which take place within the phrase, and especially in chord playing, where at least one tone of the chord belongs to the melodic thread, and as such receives an emphasis, or at least a distinctness of delivery, to which the remainder of the chord has no claim whatever. Moreover, while Thalberg employed the pedal,—and it was, in fact, an indispensable condition of the effect of his pieces,—he did not rightly consider what would be the effect when the piano should be developed to a sonority and continuance of vibration which in his time it did not have. Schumann and Liszt recognized the inner significance of the pedal, and wrote their works with reference to what we might call perhaps a sort of pianoforte chiaro-oscuro (luminous-indistinctness), which inevitably follows when the pedal is rapidly employed in quickly moving chords. In many of the Schumann pieces this is one of the most notable elements of the tonal beauty, and it is the underlying condition of the successful performance of nearly or quite all of the great Liszt transcriptions.
Thus, in the course of the thirty years or more over which his activity as composer extended, Liszt not only inaugurated new principles of playing, but brought them to perfection himself, and illustrated them in a thousand ways in his voluminous works; and, through the charm of his personality and his pleasure in contact with young and promising genius, became the master and the forming influence of all the concert pianists who came upon the stage previous to his death.
No periods can be safely marked in the creative career of Liszt, at least not in so far as relates to the pianoforte. In his "Studies for Transcendent Execution," which appear to have been first written about 1836, advanced principles of playing are illustrated as fully as any that meet us later; and in the first of his serious transcriptions of orchestral works for piano,—the "Fantastic Symphony" of Berlioz,—he set himself as carefully to reproduce upon the piano the orchestral work as he did in his famous transcriptions of the Beethoven symphonies and the later things of Wagner. But, while creative periods can not be affirmed with certainty, there are differences of style. In some of his works he indulges in a variety of piano-playing additions having no essential, or indeed suitable, relation to the musical matter which he purports to be illustrating. In others, on the contrary, he is essentially simple, loyal, and scrupulous to the last degree. The latter is true of his transcriptions of some of the Schubert songs, especially such as "My Sweet Repose," "The Wanderer," "Hark! Hark! the Lark," "The Erl King," "The Ave Maria," "Greeting to Spring," etc. In many of his operatic fantasies, on the contrary, he puts in running work, effect-cadenzas, and interpolations of various sorts. This is illustrated, perhaps better than elsewhere, in his enormously difficult fantasia upon melodies from Bellini's "Sonnambula," which for several years was one of his own concert pieces. In this there is a very difficult part where two melodies are going together, and a long and difficult trill. Other examples of this kind of writing are found in his "Trovatore" fantasias, his "Rigoletto," and the like.
After the production of "Lohengrin," Liszt seems to have entered upon a more serious view of his art than he had previously held, and his works later are generally more confined to musical considerations, and free from display as such. Nevertheless, the "Rigoletto" fantasia can not have been written prior to 1851, for it was in this year that the opera was first produced.
In cataloguing the Liszt works according to the difficulty they present to the piano player, it must first be noted that such has been the advance during the fifty years since the early ones were produced, that compositions which at their first appearance seemed stupendous to ordinary pianists have now, thanks to education and the general advance of art, become practicable to players of little beyond ordinary capacity. In fact, there is a whole world of pieces by Liszt which are more practicable to young players than most of the serious compositions of Chopin. The latter composer demands, above everything else, refinement and delicate finish; Liszt demands musical idea and effect, and, while refinement adds greatly to the charm of the works, it is not absolutely asine quâ non. In other words, Liszt always wrote with an eye to the stage, and with a certain largeness and ample scope of treatment, in which breadth and genuine musical intention, combined with a certain freedom upon the keyboard, are the main conditions of success. From a modern standpoint, the most difficult of all the Liszt works are, probably, his arrangement of the overture to Wagner's "Tannhäuser,"—which he himself considered by far the most difficult piece ever written,—the "Don Juan" fantasia, and perhaps also the "Sonnambula."
It is, of course, extremely difficult to illustrate powers so varied and ample as those of Liszt in any single program, unless we were to confine ourselves to compositions of the most extreme difficulty, since it is in these that he has shown most fully what he considers possible upon the pianoforte. The following list, however, will afford a good idea of his style, without making upon the player any demands which can not be met by the common run of superior amateurs. At the same time, in consequence of the variety of composers represented, the program presents quite a variety.
PROGRAM."A Dream of Love." No. 3."Waldesrauschen.""Consolation." No. 5.Polonaise in E major.Five Transcriptions from the songs of Schubert."The Wanderer.""Greeting to Spring.""My Sweet Repose.""Hark! Hark! the Lark.""The Erl King."Four Transcriptions from Wagner and Paganini.March and Chorus from "Tannhäuser."Romance of the Evening Star. "Tannhäuser."Spinning Song from "The Flying Dutchman.""La Campanella." (Paganini.)Concerto in E-flat. With second piano. (Optional.)
The first group of these pieces contains four numbers entirely original with Liszt. The first one, "A Dream of Love," is No. 3 in a series of nocturne-like compositions which are very melodious, picturesque, and full of sentiment. At the same time, toward the end of this third number there is one of those brilliant passages the opportunity for which Liszt could never forego. The second piece on the list, "Forest Murmurs," is a little on the line of the "Forest Murmurs" in Wagner's "Siegfried," except that Liszt operates mainly in the upper range of the piano, whereas Wagner busies himself for a long time with the lower ranges of pitch. When this piece is done with sufficient delicacy, and at the same time with adequate brilliancy and fervor, it produces a most astonishing and gratifying effect. The next selection is one of a set of six called "Consolations." These, again, are nocturne-like in character, and the one here selected is so simple that no explanation is necessary. The Polonaise in E major is one of the most brilliant and satisfactory of the original pieces of Liszt for the piano. The semi-martial chivalry of this style of composition is extremely well reproduced, and while there is a long passage in A minor which requires to be played rather discreetly to prevent its becoming tiresome, there is some lovely cadenza work in the last part in a style thoroughly original with Liszt.
If the player prefers one of the Hungarian rhapsodies, it might be substituted for the Polonaise in E in this group. The Hungarian rhapsodies are written some of them on original melodies in Hungarian style, but most of them probably on well-known Hungarian Czardas. It is difficult to speak with certainty on this subject, as Liszt has left no indications as to which are original and which are quoted. To refer to a very different composition in the same school, it may be mentioned that the famous Hungarian dances of Brahms are composed upon melodies given him by Remenyi, when both were young. These melodies were not traditional Hungarian themes, but were improvised by Remenyi himself.
The next group of pieces consists entirely of transcriptions from Schubert's songs. They are very varied in musical spirit and in manner of treatment, but, with the exception of the long-continued succession of octaves in "The Erl King,"—for which Schubert is responsible rather than Liszt,—they are not very difficult for the player, and the resources of the piano are used with the utmost discretion for producing a musical effect.
In the third group of pieces we have several selections of the Wagner transcriptions, beginning with the very brilliant march from "Tannhäuser," which, however, should not be ended at the first climax, but the intermezzo should be played, and so to the end. The "Romance of the Evening Star" is one of those delightful melodies which it is always a pleasure to hear. These selections conclude with the very brilliant study after Paganini, "La Campanella." In case this should not prove practicable for the player, a Liszt rhapsody might be substituted or the Tarantelle from "Venice and Naples." The program may be regarded as complete at this point, but if it happens to be convenient to give one or more movements of the Concerto in E-flat, a still different idea of Liszt's manner of writing will have been gained. The Concerto in E-flat is very brilliant, but, excepting the third movement, is not very difficult. There are few piano pieces in the repertory which produce so much effect in proportion to the labor of performing them as this. It would be possible to omit the third movement and play the first, second, and fourth.
The fullness with which the characteristics of the different composers have been treated in the preceding chapters of this course leaves little to be said in this final summing up, since the only element of the present program which we have not already had in combination with the others is that of Liszt, itself fully treated in the previous chapter.
We have now arrived at a point where a completely developed recital program, according to modern ideas, can be presented, and this upon a great variety of grades of difficulty. As an illustration, three programs are given. The first contains nothing of greater difficulty than the fifth grade, and is, therefore, within the reach of pianists of very moderate abilities. The second is of a more difficult character, involving technic up to the eighth or ninth grade, and requiring more experience and brilliant capacity. The third program is a fully developed recital, such as an artist might play. In so far as regards the mechanical difficulties of the last program, they are not beyond the reach of the better class of pianists, as we find them almost anywhere; but from an artistic point of view the interpretations require a good deal of musical maturity.
PROGRAM I. (Easy.)Bach,Prelude and Fugue in D major. Clavier, No. 5.Saraband in E minor.Loure in G major. (Heinze.)Beethoven,Sonata in G major, opus 14, No. 2.Chopin,Impromptu in A-flat, opus 29.Nocturne in B major, opus 15.Schumann,Forest Scenes: "Entrance," "Wayside Inn," "Homeward."Nachtstück in F, opus 23, No. 4.Wagner-Liszt,Spinning Song, from "The Flying Dutchman."PROGRAM II. (Moderate.)Bach,Prelude and Fugue in C-sharp major. Clavier, No. 3.Beethoven,Sonata in A-flat major, opus 26.Schumann,Fancy Pieces, opus 12: "In the Evening," "Soaring," "Why?""Whims," "End of the Song."Chopin,Prelude in D-flat; Scherzo in B-flat minor.Liszt,"A Dream of Love" (No. 3); Eighth Hungarian Rhapsody.PROGRAM III. (Difficult.)Bach-Liszt,Fantasia and Fugue in G minor. (Organ.)Beethoven,Sonata in C minor, opus 111.Chopin,Fantasia Impromptu in C-sharp minor, opus 66.Studies, opus 10, Nos. 3, 5, and 12.Nocturne in G major, opus 37.Schumann,"Kreisleriana," opus 16, Nos. 1 and 2.Liszt,"Eclogue," "Au Bord D'Un Source.""The Erl King." (Schubert.)
In all these programs, except the second, the order observed is that of Bach, Beethoven, Chopin, Schumann, and Liszt. When forming a program to be played before those not accustomed to classic music, it is quite practicable to make a combination on a different plan, beginning with a combination of three pieces by Bach, Chopin, and Schumann or Liszt, or Bach, Schumann, and Chopin. These could be followed by a serious Beethoven work, such as one of the larger sonatas; and this again by a few small pieces, in order to relieve the overtaxed attention; the whole concluding with a Hungarian rhapsody or some other brilliant piece. The advantage of this arrangement is that the audience does not have to wait so long before arriving at music which pleases.
In the ordinary arrangement—as that in the programs above—the program follows a systematic development from the beginning to the end, in the direction of greater freedom of expression and more brilliancy and adaptability to the pianoforte; so the music becomes more and more pleasing all the way through, and the only trouble is a fear lest the early pieces may prove too severe to those who are not accustomed to listening to music of this kind. In the case of musical clubs, and other places where the study of art is the principal motive, this fear is not entitled to any weight, since when it is designed to present programs of serious works, requiring to be understood and to be heard several times before their full meaning is apparent to the listener, a certain amount of preliminary analysis or study ought to be done, either by members of the club separately or by the club together in a sort of preliminary rehearsal by a competent person, who will both play the works in fragments and comment upon their peculiarities. As an illustration of a program arranged on the plan last mentioned, the following is presented:
1. Bach, Prelude and Fugue in C-sharp major, Clavier No. 3. Chopin, Fantasia Impromptu in C-sharp minor, Valse in A-flat, opus 42.
2. Beethoven, "Sonata Appassionata," opus 57.
3. Grieg, "Butterflies." Wm. Mason, "Reverie Poetique," "The Silver Spring."
4. Schumann, "Traumes Wirren," "End of the Song," opus 12. Liszt, Second Hungarian Rhapsody.
This could be played in two numbers, pausing after the sonata; or, better, in four, pausing after the Chopin valse, the sonata, and the Mason "Silver Spring." Each number is pleasing by itself.
A certain amount of care has been taken in the easy program to illustrate different phases of all the writers; accordingly, the Bach illustration begins with the Prelude and Fugue in D major, which is a very pleasing one, followed by the short Saraband in E minor, and this again by the Loure in G major. The saraband is of a very serious and melodious turn, and is about as near a sustained lyric melody as Bach ever got upon the piano. In writing for the violin he reaches a higher flight in several cases.
In the most difficult program of all, we open with the Bach-Liszt Fantasia and Fugue in G minor, which, having originally been composed for the organ with a difficult pedal part, becomes very much more difficult when put upon the piano for two hands alone. This is a very remarkable work indeed, the fantasia being full of chromatic changes and very expressive and thoroughly modern modulations and sequences. It is almost as modern a work as the "Chromatic Fantasia." The fugue is remarkable for having a very long subject, which is almost a gavotte in its rhythm; and the splendid subject is developed with charming freedom. It is one of the greatest favorites of all the Bach fugues, and when arranged for orchestra—as has been done by Abert—it is one of the most pleasing numbers in the entire orchestral repertory, never failing of delighting an audience. The Beethoven sonata in this program (opus 111, in C minor) is the last one which that great master wrote. Opinions of artists differ in regard to this sonata; some, like the present writer, holding it to be, on the whole, the most expressive of all the sonatas, or nearly so; others regarding the last movement as practically a failure. The peculiarities of the work which have given rise to these differences of opinion are substantially the following: It begins with a slow introduction, which is full of meditative and dreamy harmonic changes of a very delicate and suggestive character. Then enters the allegro, with a very strong subject, such as would naturally be used for a fugue. The entire first movement is developed out of this subject in a very strong and almost fugue-like manner. In fact, fugal passages occur repeatedly in the course of this development. The effect of the whole is very impassioned and irresistible. It is a very similar vein to that of the allegro movement of the "Sonate Pathetique," a work which Beethoven composed about twenty-five years earlier.
Up to this point it will be seen that the work differs from the usual sonata treatment in not possessing a lyric second subject. The element of song-like repose is entirely wanting in this first movement; it is suggested in the slow introduction, but in the allegro itself we have nothing of it.
The second movement consists of an Arietta, which is in two strains—one in C major, the other in A minor. These two strains are treated with variations through a very long and highly developed unfolding, the necessary relief of key being secured by the alternating tonalities of C and A minor. In my opinion, what Beethoven sought to do was to end this sonata in a more serious and poetic vein than sonatas usually close in. The general character of the sonata form, with a slow movement in the middle, necessarily amounts to an anti-climax. The sonata finale is almost always either a sonata-piece—in which case it is of a very impassioned character, such as we find illustrated in the first sonata and in the "Moonlight Sonata"; or a rondo—an easy-going movement, the principal subject often returning, examples of which we find in the "Pastoral Sonata," the opus 2 in C major, opus 7 in E-flat, and a great variety of others. While the regular finale admits of a serious and effective ending, it precludes the peculiarly elevated and poetic sentiment of the adagio movement. I think Beethoven undertook in the present instance to develop the sonata to the necessary complexity for climax and at the same time to end with the poetic and sentimental spirit. When these variations are played in this mood, they produce a very beautiful and excellent effect, but the close of the sonata is very difficult to treat satisfactorily.
In the Liszt selections at the close of the last program are two pieces very seldom played—an eclogue and "At the Fountain." Both these require delicate playing rather than extremely brilliant, and both are rather difficult, without making a show proportionate to the difficulty of performing them. They are, however, very musical and pleasing. The
By form in music is meant the general plan in accordance with which the ideas composing the piece are arranged; that is to say, if the piece be a short melody of one period, there will be one phrase which is repeated at least twice, and two other phrases which are not exactly alike. In an ordinary simple melody the first phrase has the general character of proposing a subject or of stating a proposition, and the second phrase has the general character of answering that subject, or, in musical parlance, it forms a counter-theme, but as a rule does not fully complete itself on the original key. The third phrase is very often quite the same as the first; thus the original proposition is repeated and emphasized, and the fourth phrase completely answers it and ends upon the principal key. A period of this type is known as a "lyric" form, and this is the general type of all simple melodies.
There is a period of quite a different type, sometimes called "thematic," in which, in place of a single idea extending throughout the first phrase, we have a short idea, or motive, which is repeated or modified in one way or another a sufficient number of times to fill up the rhythm proper to the first phrase of the simple period—viz., two measures. Occasionally, the development of this motive is carried through the first two phrases of the piece, or four measures; after which it is answered by a counter-theme or new material, bringing the whole period to an end on its own or some other key. This type of construction is very common in Schumann's works, and striking examples of it are found in the first period of the Novelette in E major, the first "Kreisleriana," the first period of the "Aufsschwung," and in many other places. Up to this point we might make a scheme of the period forms as follows: Lettingarepresent the first subject unchanged,a'the first subject slightly modified andbthe answering material, andb'the answering material of the counter-theme somewhat modified, the lyric period would present the following schedule:
_a_ plus _b_ _a_ plus _b'_;
and the thematic this:
_a_ plus _a'_ _b_ plus _b'_;
or, more generally:
_a_ plus _b_.
Theaandbin this latter case each extend to four measures.
In case a form is to be developed to two periods, new material is often introduced at the beginning of the second period. Designating this new material bycandc', the schedule of the two-measure period would be as follows:
First period: _a_ plus _b_ _a_ plus _b'_.Second period: _c_ plus _c'_ _a_ plus _b'_.
Thus represented in algebraic formulae, it is easy to see that repetition of the materials designateda, oraandbtogether, is the source of unity in the period, and the third element introduced, here designated asc, has its only use in serving as variety. The normal dimensions for the two-period form just scheduled would be sixteen measures; but if the motive were two measures, then the period form resulting would be sixteen measures, and the two-period form thirty-two measures. Many examples will be found in the instrumental works of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, and also in Schumann.
This simple form above given serves also as a type of the organization of the larger forms. For example, one of the most numerously represented forms in music is the rondo, which derives its name from the reappearance of the principal subject at intervals, after the manner of a round. Supposing such a principal subject to be a one- or two-period song form like those described above, this entire form would be designated as A; after A, a small amount of passage work might be introduced, and then would enter a second form, B, which within itself, however, would be modeled quite like the two-period form described above. After this second form the first form would then be repeated, and after this a coda would be added. Designating the entire first form or principal subject of a rondo by A, and the second subject or second song form by B, the rondo then will have this schedule:
A plus B plus A plus Coda.
This is the form of the great majority of polkas and waltzes, except that the song forms standing for A and B respectively are very often of three periods instead of two. This form also lies at the foundation of the great majority of salon pieces for the piano.
The only difference between the rondo form and the form last described—the proper designation of which is "song form with trio"—is that the rondo introduces passage work between the subject and the second subject. Should it be desired to develop the rondo to a greater length, the second subject can be repeated after the repetition of the first, and the first subject brought in still again. A third subject can be introduced, and in the longest rondo form the schedule is like this, C standing for the third subject:
A-B-A-C-A-B-A-Coda.
A form of this sort might extend to a very considerable length, as happens in the case of Chopin's Rondo in E-flat major, opus 18, which reaches to ten or twelve pages and occupies about ten minutes to perform.
The essential principle of musical form—form in music—is quite analogous to form in literature. As in a poem or article the first consideration is Unity, or the preponderance of a leading idea, and the second Variety, or the occurrence of interesting illustrative matter, and the third Symmetry, or the just relation between the different parts in order that the leading idea may not be obscured by the prolixity of the subordinate ideas, so the same principles prevail in music. Unity also is attained by peculiarly similar means in both cases. As in the article the leading idea is repeated a number of times in order to impress it upon the hearer, but frequently in different language, so in music the principal idea is repeated more times than any other in the course of the piece; and in the small forms, or rather in the molecular construction of a piece of music, the repetitions are in a great variety of speech, exactly as they are in a well-made article. The same idea can be presented in different aspects, and different words may express it. In music this takes place through the appearance of the motive in different chords from those in which it first appeared, giving rise to variations in the melodic intervals and the like.
Symmetry in music is much more exactly observed than in literary composition, even in verse, since music itself is a matter of time and vibration, and the proportionate and mathematical relation of parts belongs to the very essence of the art. Every musical form, therefore, whether large or small, consists essentially of one leading idea and of two or more subordinate ideas, brought in with whatever cleverness of treatment the composer may find convenient, and the whole turned over and diversified according to his fancy.
In certain aspects the musical forms bear a good deal of resemblance to the quasi-geometric figures called arabesques, in which a certain line or form is many times repeated; or to the arrangement of crystals which the frost forms upon the glass of the window, when the simple crystalline form of water is repeated in a great diversity of ways, and larger figures and curious symmetries and suggestions are brought out. In music of a serious construction the leading motives are diversified in a great variety of ways by being made to appear in different chords and intervals from the original form, and by being carried into other keys, whereby the impression upon the ear is very materially modified, at the same time without destroying the unity of the idea.
Musical forms in general may be divided into elementary and complete. The elementary forms are those which are used as structural elements in the larger or complete forms. Thus, a motive repeated becomes a phrase; a phrase repeated or answered by counter-theme becomes a section; a section repeated becomes a period; the period repeated or modified becomes a two-period form or a period group, which may extend to a considerable number of periods. Out of these elementary forms the large forms are constructed. Beginning with the song form as the principal subject, the rondo goes on with a second song form as second subject, and so on to any extent desirable, according to the plan given above. In analyzing a large piece of music to find these leading subjects, the student should begin by first finding the great divisions in the piece, such as, for instance, those where an entirely new melody comes in a change of key, and the like. Having found the larger points of joining, he should then proceed to find the dividing lines in the smaller parts, which, in music, is rendered somewhat more difficult in consequence of the entire absence of punctuation bringing out relations of this kind. Not only are the marks wanting, but the bars confuse the eye and make it more difficult to find the real point where the ideas begin and end. The student, however, accustomed to memorizing his music, and consequently to thinking about it, will soon be able to find it by his intuition, in the same way that the reader knows when the sentence has been completed by the sense and not necessarily by the period which is placed after the last word.
There are a few leading types of form to which all others more or less conform. The first of these, and perhaps, on the whole, the most important, are those which are called unitary forms. A unitary form is a musical form with only one leading melodic idea, out of which the entire piece is developed. This can only be done in one or the other of three ways. Taking the simplest way first, it will be to develop this leading idea into a song form according to the pattern given above, in the beginning of this discussion. This, being sufficiently obvious on the face of it, requires no further attention here. Forms of this kind belong essentially to popular music, although they are not uncommon by way of relief in the more elevated art music.
There are two types of unitary form, however, which enter into and color all instrumental music to a degree, making it indispensable that the pupil thoroughly understand them. The first of these is the fugue. In the fugue a melodic subject of two measures or four, rarely more, is taken by a single voice and is answered by another voice in the dominant, and this again by the third voice in the original key, and so on according to the number of voices performing the fugue. The voice which has completed the subject goes on with the counter-subject or the counterpoint while the second voice is singing the subject. When all the voices have had their turn at the phrase there is an interlude of modulating material, after which the subject comes again and is answered one or more times in the properly related keys, for which the artificer of fugues has his rules already prepared, following the principles laid down by Bach. After this second appearance of the theme in these new keys, another interlude, and then an additional strophe in still a different key and with finer treatment; and thus, according to the fancy of the composer and his skill, the piece is extended to one, two, or even six or eight pages. But during the whole of it the principal subject has reappeared at very short intervals and in a great variety of keys, while the interlude matter has always been of a lighter and less significant character. In order to arrive at an appreciation of fugues, the student perhaps can not do better than to begin with some of the two-part inventions of Bach, which, while not following the fugue form strictly, approximate it very nearly. The first invention and the eighth are perhaps the best for this purpose. After these, an easy fugue in the "Well-tempered Clavier," such as the one in D major or that in C minor; more difficult examples are those in C-sharp major and in G major. In the development of fugues the old masters made use of a great variety of artifices, including all the devices of double counterpoint at the tenth and twelfth, canon and inversion, the latter applied not alone to the relation of the voices but also to the melodic material constituting a voice. "The fugue," Cherubini says, "contains everything which a good composer ought to know," and it is, in fact, the underlying element in all serious moments of modern music except those which are purely lyric. The fugue underlies the elaboration in the middle of a sonata-piece, and, in fact, is the original source, as said before, of nearly all the serious moments in the higher departments of art.
The second serious unitary form is the theme and variation. In this case the theme is itself a complete song form of perhaps two or three periods, and each variation is precisely of the same number of measures, and follows the same harmonic structure in many cases.
There are, however, in modern use, two types of the variation form. One of these, called formal variations, leaves the harmony entirely the same in all the variations, except, perhaps, to change the melody from major to minor of the same key and back again. In the best examples the harmony remains entirely unchanged, but the melody is diversified rhythmically in various ways. Good examples of this type of variations are to be found in the works of Mozart and in the second movement of Beethoven's Sonata in G major, opus 14, and in the second movement of the "Sonata Appassionata" of Beethoven.
The character variation pursues a different course. At times the key is changed and the harmony changes very much. In order to see how this can be accomplished without destroying the identity of the musical idea, it should be remembered that a musical idea consists essentially of three elements: it has a rhythm, a melodic figure, and a harmonic foundation. If the melodic figure is retained, and the harmonic figure, the rhythm can be diversified indefinitely, and, in fact, if any two of these elements are retained the third can be modified very much. In the latest practice of variation writing, two of these elements are changed at the same time, leaving only one element fixed, and in some instances it is difficult to find exactly where any of the original element of the theme remains. Beethoven began the development of character variation in his Sonata, opus 26, the first movement of which is in this form. He also did more or less in this direction in his famous "Thirty-two Variations." The variations of Schumann in the "Études Symphoniques" pass even beyond the bounds here defined. While remaining fast upon the original harmonic foundation, measure for measure, entirely new melodies come in and wholly different rhythms, so that in many instances only a few notes of the original theme are retained in any one variation. The student desiring to explore the most advanced variation writing will find examples ready to his hand in Brahms' variation on a theme of Händel and the two books of variations on a theme of Paganini. These may be considered as at present theultima thuleof variation-making art. The principle of the variation lies at the foundation of very much that meets us in the higher departments of music, even when the variation form is not heard of. All modifications or amplifications of a theme belong essentially to the variation type, and it is liberally applied to all long compositions where the same material is used a number of times.
When a piece of music consists of two fully developed melodic ideas, it is said to be binary in form, and these are all either song forms with trio or small rondo forms. Nearly all of the slow movements of Beethoven in the sonatas are binary forms, the dimensions of which may vary extremely. The student desiring to investigate this part of the subject more thoroughly is referred to the "Primer of Musical Forms," by W. S. B. Mathews (Arthur P. Schmidt & Co., Boston), where the principles are more fully unfolded.
There is one form in modern music which is the type of so large a proportion of extended instrumental movements that the student will do well to master its peculiarities at the earliest possible moment. This is the form sometimes called the sonata form or sonata-piece. The term sonata was originally used in two senses: in its larger sense it indicates an extended musical composition with three or four movements, all which taken together form the sonata. By the term sonata-piece, however, is meant the particular movement of the sonata which gives the name to the whole piece. This, as a rule, is the first movement, but sometimes it is the closing movement, and in some instances there are three of these movements in the same sonata, so arranged with reference to one another as to form the necessary contrasts. The sonata-piece is the form which contains within itself very much of the essence of all the smaller forms. It generally consists of three large chapters, beginning with the principal subject, which may be longer or shorter, according to the fancy of the composer, and may end on its own principal key or on the dominant, and may be followed by passage work or not, to any extent the composer chooses; then comes a second subject. According to Beethoven's almost invariable practice, the first subject of a sonata form is thematic in its character, and in developing this theme many of the principles of variation work are applied. The second subject is almost invariably a lyric melody, sometimes very charming, and always in a different key from that of the first subject, usually in the dominant; or, if the first subject is a minor, this will be in the relative major. Then follows a concluding paragraph of anywhere from six to thirty measures, and a double bar with a repeat sign. This forms the first chapter of the sonata-piece. After the double bar comes the second chapter, which is an elaboration or free fantasia on the material of the first part. At the end of this free fantasia, which may be longer or shorter at the fancy of the composer, comes the recapitulation, or the repetition of the entire first part, the only change being that the second subject is now in the principal key. In the elaboration of the sonata all sorts of musical fancies are liable to appear—queer juxtapositions of motives from the different parts of the first and second subjects, inversions, variations, and so on.
The sonata-piece is the type, not alone of the principal movement in symphonies and chamber quartets and trios, but it is also the type of all serious overtures, and therefore it has been well designated by German theorists as the Principal Form of modern music.
Whether longer or shorter, whether serious or lively, all musical forms have the same conditions to satisfy—viz., those of unity, or the preponderance of a single idea; symmetry, or just proportion of parts; and variety, the proper relief and introduction of new material. If the principal idea is repeated too much, monotony ensues; if there are too many accessory ideas, in place of variety we have looseness and want of unity. And in carrying out these principles in compositions of different lengths and in different styles, the composer has practically unlimited freedom.