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Introduction to the Classical Period in Music

Overview
Period Instruments
The Principal Genres in the Classical Period
The Overall Format of Classical Period Works
From Baroque Style to Classical Style
The Basic Forms of Individual Movements in Classical Period Works
Simple Binary Form
Rounded Binary Form
Sonata Form
Ternary Form and Composite Ternary Form
Rondo Form
Sonata-Rondo Form
Variation Form
Concerto Form
Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven: The Three Masters of Viennese Classicism

Overview

Our course begins at about 1750. This year is picked in most history books to mark the end of
the Baroque period and the beginning of the Classical period. The terms Baroque and Classical
(like Medieval and Renaissance) were borrowed by historians from art history, and we won’t
worry about how well they describe musical styles. 1750 is a convenient date because it’s the
year of Bach’s death, and Bach is viewed as the dominant figure of the late Baroque (Handel
died a little later, in 1759). And the first great composer of the Classical period, Joseph Haydn,
was born in the early 1730s and so came to maturity in the 1750s. You should keep in mind,
however, that Bach himself was not really representative of his time; he was primarily a church
musician who composed in a rather old-fashioned style. As early as the 1720s a lighter style had
begun to emerge in Italian music, especially in opera; the composers in question are no longer
performed very much, with the exception of the keyboard sonatas of Domenico Scarlatti. There
is an overlap, then, in the middle years of the century between the rather complex late Baroque
style of Bach and Handel and a new, lighter style to which we sometimes assign the terms
rococo, galant, or simply pre-classical.

The second half of the 18th century was a period in which important social changes occurred. It
saw the rise of a middle class, educated and increasingly prosperous, and the breakdown of the
old political system (the American Revolution began in 1776, the French Revolution in 1789).
The aristocracy began to lose its control over the cultural life of Europe. Where music was
played, who played it, and how composers made their livings all changed in important ways
between 1750, when Haydn began his career, and 1825, when Beethoven ended his.
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In 1750 successful composers were usually employed by rich aristocrats or by the church. J.S.
Bach had both kinds of position at different times in his life. Haydn was for 30 years in the
service of a prince who had his own orchestra and opera house. Mozart, like his father, served
the Archbishop of Salzburg. Even Beethoven grew up in the service of the Bonn court, like his
father and grandfather before him. By the end of the century, however, the situation had begun
to change. Music publishing expanded rapidly to meet the demands of amateurs, now also from
the middle class, who wanted music for piano or for small ensemble to perform at home. Haydn
became famous all over Europe through the sale of his music, as did Beethoven after 1800.
[There will be more on the careers of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven in a later section.]

Numerous important changes took place in both the composition and the performance of music
in the 18th century. In 1750 there were no independent orchestras giving public concerts. The
orchestras that did exist were employed by rich noblemen (like the one that employed Haydn) or
by the theaters, where they accompanied opera. Only a few cities had concerts open to the
public. There were none in the Vienna of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. Haydn wrote most of
his 104 symphonies for performance at the private concerts at the palace of his patron, Prince
Esterhazy. Late in his life, as his fame grew, he received commissions for symphonies from
orchestras in Paris and London. When Mozart and Beethoven attempted to survive in Vienna
without positions at court, they had to organize concerts of their own music. This meant renting
a space, hiring the musicians (usually the players in the opera orchestra), and sometimes even
selling the tickets themselves. This was a risky business that often lost money. It was for such
concerts that they wrote their symphonies and concertos. Civic orchestras playing an established
repertory in regular concerts were not common until after 1830.

In spite of the absence of supporting institutions such as concert halls and civic orchestras,
instrumental music gained in prestige in the late 18th century. Johann Christian Bach, the
youngest son of J.S. Bach, helped organize the first public concerts of orchestral music in
London in the 1760s. By 1800 Beethoven was beginning to establish the symphony as a genre
potentially as dramatic as opera. The piano replaced the harpsichord as the primary keyboard
instrument of virtuosos and amateurs, and in Mozart's hands the piano concerto grew into a
centerpiece for concerts by keyboard virtuosos. And with the social changes that precipitated
and ensued from the French Revolution (1780ff), the status of composers began to change. Of
the three most important composers in Vienna, Haydn, the oldest, spent most of his career in the
service of an aristocratic family. Mozart, 24 years younger, was born a Salzburg court musician
and later sought patronage in Vienna, but when there was no position for him in the 1780s he
managed to survive for a time as a free-lance composer-pianist. Beethoven, the youngest, was
also born into a family of court musicians, but after Haydn's retirement and Mozart's death he
established himself in Vienna as fully independent, even managing to extract a salary from some
wealthy Viennese families merely on the condition that he not move away.

The end of the Classical period and the beginning of the Romantic period in music is usually
placed at about 1825, the end of Beethoven’s career. But aspects of the new Romantic style had
begun to appear well before Beethoven’s death (in 1827), and in fact early Romantic composers
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such as Schumann and Berlioz viewed Beethoven himself as one of their own. Historians are
still arguing about whether Beethoven and Schubert (who died in 1828) should be described as
Classical or Romantic composers. And because the basic forms of the Classical period (sonata
form, rondo, etc. – see below) continued to be used throughout the 19th century, there are some
historians who would prefer to view the Classical and Romantic periods as a single period in
music history. But the divisions have been used for so long that we need to acknowledge and try
to account for them.

Period Instruments

If you have listened to much classical music, you have probably heard performances on ‘original’
or ‘authentic’ or ‘period’ instruments. In the last fifty years or so there has been growing interest
in trying to recreate the sounds that the composers of the 18th and 19th centuries would have
heard. At Rutgers this has been the goal of ensembles devoted to Baroque and Classical period
music. This movement in ‘performance practice’ starts from the fact that instruments have
changed in important ways since that time.

Keyboard instruments. The piano did not exist in its modern form until the middle of the 19th
century – after Chopin, Schumann, and other early Romantic composers for the piano and long
after Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. In the middle of the 18th century, when the Classical period
begins, the most important keyboard instruments were the harpsichord, the clavichord, and the
organ. The brittle, twangy sound of the harpsichord results from the fact that when the keys are
struck the strings are plucked by quills (not struck by hammers). Since it is not possible with this
mechanism to vary the loudness, harpsichords are not good at changing gradually from loud to
soft. Some instruments have two keyboards with extra sets of strings to allow for some contrast.
Most of Bach’s and Scarlatti’s keyboard music (apart from organ works) was conceived for the
harpsichord.

The clavichord differs from the harpsichord in that when the keys are played the strings are
struck by small pieces of metal. This does allow sensitive gradations of loud and soft, but
because the instrument is quite small, the sound produced is also small. The clavichord was a
favorite instrument of C.P.E. Bach (J.C. Bach’s older brother), whose music is ultra-sensitive (in
the empfindsamer Stil). But it was suited only to very small rooms, not to concert performances.

Early in the 18th century a more direct precursor of the modern piano was invented, an
instrument in which the strings were struck by hammers when the keys were played. This
allowed the performer to make loud (forte) and soft (piano) sounds and to change gradually from
one to the other. Appropriately, it was called a fortepiano in the 18th century (later reversed to
pianoforte and finally shortened informally to just piano). It took some time before the
instrument gained wide acceptance; J.S. Bach knew about it but seems not to have written for it.
By the late 1770s, however, composers were coming to prefer it to the harpsichord, and soft and
loud dynamic markings begin to appear in published keyboard music. A lot of early Haydn and
Mozart seems to have been intended for either harpsichord or piano, but their mature keyboard
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works of the 1780s and 1790s (and all of Beethoven’s) are clearly conceived for the piano.

The fortepiano of this time was smaller than the modern concert grand and had a wooden frame
that could not support strings that were tightly strung. So the sound was a lot softer than can be
made on a modern piano, which has an iron inner framework that can support much greater
tension on the strings. The later piano, with its larger sound, is necessary for the larger concert
halls that were built in the 19th century. When you hear the term fortepiano today, it usually
refers to the piano of Mozart’s time.

Violin, viola, cello, bass. The instruments of the string section of the 18th-century
orchestra look much like their modern counterparts. But there were several small
differences in the instrument and the bow. Most importantly, the strings were all made of
gut, which made them sound softer and grainier than the metal-wound strings in use
today.

Wind instruments. The way in which winds were used by composers of the Classical period
was determined to a large extent by their special limitations. Keys were added only gradually to
the woodwinds (flute, clarinet, oboe, bassoon) and there were no valves in the trumpets or
French horns. This made it hard for the instruments, especially the brass, to play equally well in
all the keys. Accordingly, composers of the 18th century tended to use certain instruments only in
pieces in certain keys. For example, most of Mozart’s important works with solo clarinet are set
in the key of A major, the key in which the fingerings for clarinet in A (the one Mozart preferred)
were the easiest. And when he wrote other pieces in A major, he incorporated the special sound
of the clarinets. Trumpets were associated especially with the key of C, their natural key (though
trumpets were built in other keys as well). When people sometimes refer to certain keys as
having a special character in the music of this time, one reason is that different wind instruments
were featured in different keys.

The Classical orchestra. Most orchestras of the late 18th century were smaller than the ones we
know today. Haydn’s orchestra at the Esterhazy palace, where he worked from the 1760s to
1790, had only about 25 players: 1 flute, 2 each of oboes, bassoons, and horns, plus about 18
strings, with trumpets and timpani added on special occasions. The orchestras in Vienna were
not much larger. These sizes are reproduced in many recent ‘authentic’ recordings of music by
Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. The resulting sound is much more mellow and colorful than that
of the modern orchestra, with the wind instruments far more pronounced against the smaller
string section with gut strings. On the other hand, much larger orchestras were occasionally
available in some cities, and there is evidence that our composers liked them. Haydn had a
bigger orchestra for the twelve symphonies he wrote to be performed in London. On occasions
when more strings were added, it was customary to use more winds as well (for example, four
oboes instead of two, so that each of the two oboe parts would be doubled); in this way the
desired balance was preserved.
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The Principal Genres in the Classical Period

The word genre refers to the classification or naming of pieces according to the instruments they
use.

After 1750 the word sonata by itself means a work in more than one movement for piano (or
harpsichord) solo. Works for piano and one other instrument, such as violin or flute, were given
the title “Sonata for piano with the accompaniment of a violin or flute;” we now use the term
violin sonata or flute sonata to indicate works for violin or flute and piano (there are also cello
sonatas, oboe sonatas, etc.).

When a chamber work involves more than two instruments, we use the terms trio, quartet,
quintet, sextet, septet, octet, and nonet, with the instruments named afterwards: “Trio for
violin, viola, and cello,” etc. An exception is generally made when the piano is combined with
stringed instruments; here we say piano trio (piano, violin, & cello), piano quartet (piano,
violin, viola, & cello), or piano quintet (piano + string quartet). When the terms quartet or
quintet are used by themselves, they refer to string quartets (two violins, viola, & cello) or string
quintets (with two violas or two cellos).

A multi-movement work for full orchestra is usually called a symphony. A work for one solo
instrument and orchestra is called a concerto; when there is more than one soloist (violin &
viola, for example), composers sometimes used the title concertante or sinfonia concertante.
There is another group of pieces, generally lighter in mood, sometimes with more than four
movements, and scored for various combinations of instruments (including orchestra); these
were called divertimento, serenade, or cassation.

The principal genres of vocal music are as follows:

Lied (German for ‘song’): a setting of a poem in German for one voice and piano; the
French equivalent is mélodie

Mass: a setting of the Ordinary of the Catholic Mass (Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus,
Agnus Dei) for soloists, chorus, and orchestra, performed in church as part of the service. The
Requiem Mass is a setting of the Mass for the Dead, which has different texts.

Oratorio: a concert work for soloists, chorus, and orchestra, usually telling a Biblical
story (e.g., Haydn: The Creation)

Opera: a staged dramatic work for solo voices and orchestra (and sometimes chorus);
the text is called a libretto. Operas are further subdivided according to their language and
whether they have serious or comic plots; the principal kinds are:

Opera seria: a tragic opera in Italian (usually with a happy ending, though)
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Opera buffa: a comic opera in Italian (e.g., Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro)
Dramma giocoso: a mostly comic opera with serious elements (e.g., Don Giovanni)
Tragédie lyrique: a tragic opera in French
Opéra comique: a comic opera in French
Singspiel: an opera in German, either serious or comic (e.g., Mozart’s The Magic Flute)

From Baroque Style to Classical Style

One of the things that happened in the middle of the 18th century, as the Baroque period ended
and the Classical period began is that many of the older formal procedures fell out of favor – or
were reserved for church music. Thus by 1770, procedures such as fugue, toccata, ritornello
form, the French overture, the chorale prelude, and the da capo aria – most of the forms you
learned last semester – have largely disappeared, and what we call “sonata form” has become the
dominant way of structuring music. To understand how and why this happened we need to hear
how the style of the music itself changed.

The most basic changes involved the relationship between melody, harmony, and phrase
structure. It is easiest to see what happened by looking at specific pieces. Two short dance
movements from the 1720s and 1770s, by Bach and Mozart, make a good comparison. Bach’s
Minuet comes from one of his Partitas, a favorite Baroque genre made up of a succession of
dance movements in the same key (with or without a prelude at the beginning). Mozart’s Minuet
comes from one of his early Sonatas, the favorite genre of the Classical period. We’ll compare
these two pieces in our first class. Here’s a summary:

The two Minuets share one obvious feature: they both fall into two sections, each of which is
repeated. (We’ll refer to this overall shape as “binary form”.) In addition, the overall harmonic
shape is the same: in each case the first section modulates from the tonic (Bb) to the dominant
(F), and the second half modulates back. The differences lie in the way the changes of key are
related to the presentation of the thematic material.

In Bach's Minuet the first 16 mm make a single long gesture, without clear phrase breaks. The
8th-note rhythm continues uninterrupted through any potential articulation. The bass is
constantly moving, with the result that the harmony sometimes changes on every beat (fast
harmonic rhythm). The second half of the movement starts with a variant of m.1, and the same
rhythmic motion continues throughout. There is only a slight blip at the Gm cadence in m.24,
and the precise point of return to the tonic Bb is hard to pinpoint.

In Mozart's Minuet there are 12 mm in the first section. Now, however, there are clear breaks in
m.2, m.4, and m.10, and the pauses in mm. 4 and 10 are followed by material that differs from
what preceded it. One can speak of three separate gestures: mm.1-4, mm.5-10, and mm.11-12.
The melody and bass are different, with the bass rather static and uninteresting. The harmony
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changes slowly and is confined to a few chords (mostly I and V). The second half starts with
new, more striking material and a less stable bass. When the opening idea returns at m.19 it
coincides with the return to Bb and makes a clear articulation, even though the melody and
accompaniment (we can really use those terms here) have exchanged registers.

Bach's Minuet, with its three-voice counterpoint, is more interesting and sophisticated than
Mozart's Minuet by most criteria. But in chopping the continuity up into short phrases and
slowing down the harmonic rhythm Mozart also gains something. Every phrase articulation is an
opportunity to change the material, something that Bach couldn't do with his long, seamless
phrases spun out from an initial motive. And Mozart can use his short phrases as blocks with
which to build larger units in which each part is assigned a specific function. Thus in his Minuet
mm.1-4 are complementary phrases, antecedent and consequent, which establish the tonic;
mm.5-10 are a transitional gesture moving from Bb to the dominant F; and even the silly little
mm.11-12 serve to confirm F as the new tonic with two cadences. Note how at the end of the
second section these two measures are extended to four in order to make a firmer conclusion.
Moreover, the clear differentiation between mm.13-18 and 19ff allows the return of m.1 material
in m.19 to become a real event – theme and key returning together. Bach's Minuet has clear
arrivals only at the very ends of sections.

For all its differentiated material, the Mozart Minuet doesn't accomplish much. The possibilities
are there, however, and when the little rounded binary form of this Minuet is expanded into
sonata form movements of substantial proportions, with their sections similarly differentiated by
function, the result is something that was not possible in Bach's language.

The development of Mozart's language from Bach's was a gradual one. Many composers in the
middle years of the century began to write in a simpler style than Bach's, choosing to write
simpler basses and slow down the harmonic rhythm. The breaking up of the melody itself into
short phrases, with frequent cadences, also became more common in certain kinds of
movements. In the music of Domenico Scarlatti, an exact contemporary of Bach's but more
progressive in some respects, we find many of the new characteristics; there are lots of short
phrases and static harmonies, and the material can be wonderfully flashy, but in most of his
“sonatas” the binary form itself is not yet used in a dramatic way. Indeed, the sons of Bach and
their contemporaries right up to the young Haydn worked constantly to find an effective way to
introduce contrast without destroying coherence and to combine passages of complex Baroque
polyphony (which still sound serious and impressive) with passages in the simpler new style
(which is usually more accessible, pleasing, brilliant, etc.). We’ll hear two different approaches
in sonatas by C.P.E. and J.C. Bach.

The Basic Forms of Individual Movements in Classical Period Works

Because the basic forms used for the movements of Classical period works remained in
use through the beginning of the 20th century (and even later, after the breakdown of
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tonality), it is important that we begin with a clear understanding of them. In the pages
that follow, each of the forms is described and diagrammed. The first seven of them –
simple binary form, rounded binary form, sonata form, ternary form, rondo form, sonata-
rondo form, and variation form – are illustrated by movements from works by Bach,
Mozart, and Beethoven. Annotated scores are provided in the Google Drive files. You
need to study them carefully and be sure you understand them.

* * *

Most of the forms used in Classical period works are elaborations of a basic model that is either
binary (two-part) or ternary (three-part). Simple binary form is elaborated to become rounded
binary form and sonata form. Simple ternary form is elaborated to rondo form and sonata-
rondo form.

The two elements that serve to articulate all these forms are themes and keys. In the following
diagrams, letters are used to indicate themes. For the ternary, rondo, and sonata-rondo forms I
have simply used A, B, C, etc. for the themes of the various sections. For the binary, rounded
binary, and sonata forms I have adopted a system of letters that is commonly found in analysis:
P (principal or primary), S (second, secondary, or subsidiary), and K (closing or cadential).
Roman numerals are used to indicate keys: I is the home tonic of the movement; V is the key
whose tonic chord is built on the fifth degree of the original scale (the key of the dominant), and
so forth. A movement in C major that modulates from I to V will have modulated from the key
of C to the key of G. Upper case Roman numerals = major keys; lower case = minor keys.

Simple Binary Form

This is a two-part form, usually with each half repeated. The first section modulates from I to V
if the home key is major, from i to III if the home key is minor. The second section modulates
from V (or III) back to I, often cadencing in some third key (usually vi) along the way. The
principal theme (P in the diagram) appears at the beginning of each section. But note that there
is no return to the P theme at the point where the home key is reached in the second section; this
is what distinguishes simple binary form from rounded binary form (see below).

⏐⏐: P :⏐⏐: P :⏐⏐

I → V V → (vi) → I
i III III i

Example: Minuet from Bach’s Partita in Bb

This form is used for the dance movements of the Baroque suite (“partita” is another word for
“suite”). Bach’s contemporary Domenico Scarlatti also used simple binary form for most of the
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one-movement “sonatas” (this was not his title) that he wrote between 1720 and 1755. But
simple binary form is seldom used in the Classical period, which preferred rounded binary forms.

Rounded Binary Form

As in simple binary form there are two sections, both repeated. The most significant difference
is in the second section, where the return of the home key (I) is articulated by a return of the
opening theme (P). What follows is usually a reprise of all the material of the first section, but
without the modulation to V; this is the “rounding” element in the form. The “bridge” passage
after the double bar may or may not begin with P, too.

⏐⏐: P :⏐⏐: P? P :⏐⏐

I → V V → (vi?) → I
(or I) (bridge)

Example: Mozart: Sonata in Eb, K.282, Minuet

In the Classical period the rounded binary form is used for the Minuet and for the Trio of a
Minuet and Trio movement. In class we’ll listen to the Minuet (but not the Trio) from Mozart’s
Sonata, K.282, which is a clear example of this form. By about 1800 it was common to
substitute a faster movement in ¾ time for the Minuet and Trio; usually this was called Scherzo
and Trio.

Although the essential derivation of rounded binary form from simple binary form is clear
enough (in the two repeated halves, for example), in practice this form sometimes looks a
bit different. In short minuets, composers sometimes cadenced in I at the end of the first
section, ignoring the tonal motion (I to V, V to I) of simple binary form. And if the bridge
passage after the double bar is very different from P, a ternary element (A B A) is introduced
in the way the thematic material is used, though the two repeated halves are still present. If
your theory book refers to this as ternary form, be sure you understand the reasons for
choosing one term or the other.

Sonata Form

This is the most important form in instrumental music of the Classical and Romantic periods
(1750-1900). Because it was almost always used for the fast first movements (Allegros) of
works in three or four movements, you may also find it called “sonata-allegro form” or “first-
movement form.”
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Sonata form is a greatly expanded version of rounded binary form. Look at the diagram below.
The first section up to the repeat sign, now called the exposition, is enlarged to include two
“groups” of material. Group 1, in the home tonic, has a principal theme (P1) and may have
others as well (P2 etc.). It is followed by a “transition” in which a modulation from I to V (or i to
III in a minor mode piece) occurs. Group 2 includes all the material in the new key. Normally
there is a new theme where the new key starts, which may be followed by others (S1, S2, etc.).
Towards the end of the exposition an especially strong cadence in the new key occurs, and the
section is then closed by one or more “closing themes” (K1, K2, etc.); these reinforce the feeling
of conclusion by cadencing repeatedly. The primary function of the themes of Group 2 is to
articulate the arrival of the second key. Therefore it is not essential that they contrast with P; in
fact, Haydn often uses the same theme for P1 and S1. In the Romantic music of the 19th century,
however, contrast between the P and S themes becomes much more important to the expressive
goals of the composer, as we shall see.

The bridge passage after the double bar is now called the development. In short movements it
may simply prolong V, but more often it modulates to new keys, avoiding I. Usually the themes
of the exposition are “developed” here; they may be set in new keys, combined in different
ways, or broken up into motives. Sometimes new material is also introduced. The development
usually ends by emphasizing the V chord in anticipation of the return of I at the recapitulation.
By the time of Beethoven, these passages of “dominant preparation” can become quite dramatic.

The second half of the second section – the “rounding” element in rounded binary form – is now
called the recapitulation. All of the themes of the exposition return here, but now Groups 1 and
2 are both in the tonic key; the transition has to be rewritten to keep Group 2 in the home key.
After the closing themes of the exposition have been “recapitulated,” an additional section called
a coda may be added.

Here is a diagram of sonata form:

Exposition

Group 1 Group 2
optional slow ⏐⏐: P1 [P2] transition S1 [S2] K1 [K2] :⏐⏐
introduction
I → V V
or i → III III
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Development Recapitulation Coda

Group 1 Group 2
⏐⏐: themes manipulated P1 [P2] transition S1 [S2] K1 [K2] :⏐⏐ P1 usually

new keys I → I I I
or i → i (or I) i (or I) i

Examples: Beethoven: Sonata in G major, Op.14 No.2, movement 1

+ the first movements of the Haydn Quartet, the Haydn Symphonies, and many others…

The first movement of Beethoven’s Sonata Op.14 No.2 provides us with a good example of a
concise sonata form in the mature Classical style. Look at this movement closely and satisfy
yourself that you can follow where it goes.

Start by identifying the themes of the exposition and their recurrence in the recapitulation. These
should be easy to spot and hear. The P theme in the exposition (mm.1-8) is repeated exactly in
the recapitulation (mm.125-132). All of the S and K material of group II, presented in D major
in the exposition (mm.26-63), is transposed straight-forwardly to the home key (G) in the recap
(mm.153-187), with only the last few measures altered. The less predictable aspects of the
exposition and recap are the transitions between the themes. These places are not always the
same from exposition to recap. In this case, however, Beethoven makes the minimum change
necessary in the recap to avoid the modulation to D (compare mm.9-25 with mm.133-152;
mm.137-139 are new).

Now look at the development and the coda. These are the sections where the composer is free to
do almost anything he wants, thematically and harmonically. Beethoven’s development is
unexpectedly long, given the simplicity of the exposition. It uses both the P and the S theme, and
it modulates rather widely from G minor to Bb and Ab before arriving at a grand pause on V/Eb in
m.98. What follows sounds like it will be the recapitulation, but the key (Eb) is wrong. After a
few measures, in m.106, an augmented-sixth chord is built on the bass Eb and resolved to D, the
correct dominant chord. This is prolonged for a full 18 measures before resolving to the real
recap in m.125. The coda is much more modest, consisting of just 13 cadential measures
(mm.188-200) using motives of the P theme. Later Beethoven codas will get much larger and
more dramatic than this.
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Some Important Things to Remember about Sonata Form

It is important to see the combination of binary and ternary elements in sonata form. The general
thematic correspondence of the exposition and recapitulation, surrounding a contrasting
development section, creates a large three-part structure in the treatment of the thematic material.
But the essential dynamic motion of sonata form is still the binary key structure – I to V, V to I –
with two keys in ‘conflict’ in the exposition and the resolution of the conflict in the V to I motion
of the entire second section: development + recapitulation. In fact, one of the things that is not
obvious in casual listening but is important to hearing the shape of sonata form is that the end of
the exposition, although “closed” harmonically within the key (V or III) of Group II, is “open”
with respect to the harmonic structure of the movement as a whole. The movement could not
end satisfactorily at this point, without a return to I. So the whole exposition is like a greatly
elaborated antecedent phrase in a giant antecedent-consequent structure.

In short sonata-form movements, both sections of the binary form may still be repeated. As
movements grew longer and more dramatic, however, composers began to omit the repeat of the
second section (development + recap). In some movements by Beethoven, the repeat of the first
section (exposition) is also dropped; the first movement of the Ninth Symphony is a well-known
example. Opera overtures also omitted both repeats; note the absence of a repeat in the Overture
to Don Giovanni. Today some repeats in Classical scores are omitted on recordings and in
performances simply to make the pieces shorter, and there is a great deal of argument among
performers and critics about whether the exposition repeats in Classical period works should be
considered mandatory or optional. (What does your studio teacher say?)

If the sonata form structure in a fast movement is preceded by a slow introduction (as in the case
of the late Haydn symphonies), the introduction will not be included in the exposition repeat. In
fact, both introductions and codas stood conceptually outside the sonata form itself. By the
1790s (late Haydn, early Beethoven), however, composers had begun to integrate introductions
and codas into the main business of the movement. Motives presented in the introduction may
be related to the P1 theme of the exposition (as in Haydn Symphony 100), or passages from the
introduction may be brought back within the Allegro (as in the first movement of Beethoven’s
Pathétique Sonata, Op.13). And although codas in the early Classical period are quite short or
may be omitted altogether, by Beethoven’s time they grow quite long and can even resume some
of the procedures of the development section.
 13

Ternary Form

A movement in ternary form has three sections. The first and the third use the same material,
and both usually close in the home tonic. The middle section introduces contrasting material and
a different key.

A B A
I new I
key

Example: Beethoven: Sonata in F minor, Op.2 No.1, movement 2: Adagio

The ternary form in the Adagio of Beethoven’s Op.2 No.1 should be easy to hear. Typical in this
case is the episodic nature of the middle B section, which introduces more than one new key
before returning to the A section. The repeat of the 16-measure A section is highly embellished;
this was expected in lyrical slow movements, though the composer did not always write out the
embellishments as Beethoven does here. The coda continues in the same style for another 14
measures (mm.48ff).

The ternary form stresses symmetry rather than drama. It is more relaxed than the binary forms,
in which the two sections are based on the dynamic motion from I to V and V to I. Ternary form
is used often in the short piano pieces and songs by composers in the Romantic generation after
Beethoven (Schubert, Chopin, Liszt, etc.). In the Classical period it is rare.

A special type of ternary form occurs in the Minuet and Trio movements (and later the Scherzos)
of Classical works. Here there is an exact repeat of the Minuet (or Scherzo) in its entirety after
the Trio. Since both Minuet and Trio are normally complete in themselves, the three-part overall
structure is sometimes called composite ternary form.

A B A
Minuet Trio Minuet
[Scherzo Trio Scherzo]

In the score, the repeat of the Minuet will normally be indicated merely by the words Menuetto
da capo or the abbreviation d.c. after the Trio. Both the Minuet and the Trio have their own
internal structure as rounded binary forms; it is the combination of the two that creates the
overall ternary form.

Rondo Form

Rondo form extends the basic principle of ternary form, in which the main theme (A) returns in
the home key after a contrasting section (B) in another key, by adding at least one more
 14

contrasting section (C) and another return of the main theme (A). The term refrain is used here
to describe the stable A section, while the term episode describes the contrasting unstable B and
C sections.

Refrain Episode 1 Refrain Episode 2 Refrain

A B A C A
I new I new I
key key

Example: Beethoven: Sonata in C minor, Op.13, movement 2: Adagio in Ab

This famous movement provides a good illustration of simple rondo form. The opening refrain
melody is stated twice, an octave higher the second time. The first episode (mm.17-28) goes to
V; the second episode (mm.37-50) begins in the tonic minor and goes farther afield, to E major.
The final refrain again states the melody twice in different octaves, and there is a 7-measure
coda at the end. As with the ternary form in the Adagio of Op.2 No.1, the A sections (refrains)
are stable and the B and C sections (episodes) are unstable.

The structure of rondo form is basically additive. More episodes (D, E, etc.) in other new keys
can be added, each followed by a return of the refrain A in the home key. In the Classical period,
simple rondo form is found in slow movements and finales, movements that tend to be more
relaxed and less dynamic than first movements, which are almost always in the more dramatic
sonata form.

Sonata-Rondo Form

In finales, Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven liked to use a special variant of rondo form called
sonata-rondo form, in which the simple rondo form is combined with aspects of sonata form.
In this hybrid form the material of the first episode is brought back in the tonic key in place of a
third episode. When the first episode goes to V (as it almost always does) and the second
episode develops motives from A and B (instead of presenting new material), the result has the
elements of an exposition, development, and recap, with the last statement of the refrain forming
a coda.

Refrain Episode 1 Refrain Episode 2 Refrain Episode 1 Refrain

A B A C A B
A
I V I new I I I
key

like an exposition like a development like a recapitulation like

a coda
 15

Example: Beethoven: Sonata in Eb, Op.7, mvmt 4: Rondo. Poco Allegretto e grazioso

There are two essential differences between sonata-rondo form and real sonata form, however.
First and most important, the return of the refrain A in the home key after the first episode B
removes all the tension created by the modulation to V, so the second episode C is merely a new
departure from tonic stability rather than a prolongation of the instability of the ‘exposition.’
Sonata forms and sonata-rondo forms also tend to use different kinds of themes. The refrain
theme of a sonata-rondo is normally an extended melody with square phrases, as in our example
from Op.7, while the principal theme of a sonata form is usually shorter and less melodic.

For composers of the Classical period, the sonata-rondo was just a variant of rondo form, and
Beethoven calls this movement simply “Rondo”. It should be easy to follow. The refrain is one
of Beethoven’s loveliest melodies. The defining feature of the movement is the return of
Episode 1 material (mm.17-50) in the home key of Eb following the third statement of the refrain
(mm.113-145). The surprising special touches that distinguish the movement are, first, the way
the second episode starts prematurely after the third phrase of the refrain in m.64, and second,
the momentary slip into E major at the same place during the final statement of the refrain in
m.158. The little coda that closes the movement is also particularly ingratiating. Was this
movement written with a lady friend in mind?

Theme and Variations

All of the preceding forms are characterized by a particular tonal plan with the key structure
articulated by the themes. Variation form is different in that it is an open-ended process based on
a single theme in a single key. A movement in theme and variation form will have a theme –
frequently borrowed from another work – followed by several variations (from as few as three or
four up to as many as thirty or more), perhaps with a coda at the end. Most often, the variation
process involves ornamenting the melody of the theme with extra notes in shorter values, with
the underlying harmony remaining the same. But as with jazz, which uses this form almost
exclusively, the theme can become all but unrecognizable at times.

In writing a movement in variation form, in which all the variations are restatements of the same
theme in the same key, composers had the problem of imposing a shape on the essentially open-
ended process. They had to find ways of creating a climax at an appropriate place in the overall
sequence and of creating a sense of closure at the end. The most common ways were the
following:

1) gradually diminishing the note values from one variation to the next – this produced a
gradual increase in rhythmic excitement
2) changing the mode – almost every set of variations in a major key has one variation
 16

in the minor mode to create tension towards the end; the term for this variation was
the minore
3) changing the tempo – a similar climactic effect could be produced by a variation in
much slower tempo, which provided the emotional weight of a slow movement
4) changing the meter – for the last variation and/or a coda, composers often varied the
theme in 3/8 or 6/8 meter, which produced the lighter effect associated with finale
movements
5) repeat the theme in its original form – when this occurred at the end, the rounding
effect it produced was a sign of closure

Example: Mozart: Variations on an unidentified theme, K.500

Mozart’s set of variations, K.500, is an independent movement for piano (i.e., not part of a larger
work). The theme itself is in simple binary form, 8 measures long, with both halves repeated.
Its source has not been identified, but presumably it was borrowed from another work, perhaps at
someone’s request. There are 12 variations, and the theme is repeated in its original form at the
end. All the variations but one retain the shape of the theme, complete with repeated halves; the
exception is variation 12, in which a change of meter to 3/8 forces Mozart to double the number
of measures in each half. Variation 12 is also different in that it is in effect two variations in one
– the repeat of each half is written out so that the second time through is a variant of the first
time in shorter note values.

Within the basic shape of Theme — 12 variations — Theme, Mozart uses several of the above
methods of achieving coherence, climax, and closure. In the first four variations there is gradual
diminution, from the 8th-note motion of the theme to the triplet 8ths of variations 1 & 2 (first right
hand, then left) to the 16th-note motion of variations 3 & 4 (first right hand, then left). Variation
5 then adds some expressive chromaticism, hinting at the minor mode. This anticipates the first
climax in variation 7, where the mode changes to minor. The pianistically exciting variations 9
and 10 lead to the final climax in variation 11, where the tempo changes to Adagio. The turn to
Allegro in variation 12, now faster than the Allegretto of the theme, together with the change of
meter to 3/8, signals the end of the movement. The unvaried statement of the theme itself then
closes things.

Two extraneous events in this movement enhance the sense of climax and closure at the end.
These are the short transitions inserted between variations 10 and 11 (the Adagio) and between
variation 12 and the concluding theme. These passages, each of which moves to a dramatic pause
on the dominant, are like announcements that something structurally important is about to
happen. Each one grows out of the motives of the preceding variation, so you need to be alert to
the shape of the theme to recognize when Mozart leaves it.
 17

Concerto Form in Mozart

Concertos in the Classical period were normally in three movements: fast-slow-fast. Second and
third movements were in the same forms used for symphony slow movements and finales (short
sonata form, rondo, sonata-rondo, variations), with no predetermined roles for the orchestra and
soloist. The first movements were the longest and most complex. They are also the most
conventional structurally. First movement concerto form in Mozart’s time is a hybrid of two
structural principles: the ritornello principle of the Baroque concerto and aria and Classical
sonata form. It’s important to see how these two principles interact.

In the Baroque concertos of Vivaldi and others, there is usually a clear distinction between the
roles played by the soloist and the orchestra (tutti). The tutti passages serve as structural pillars;
they are always harmonically stable (they don’t modulate), and they use the same thematic
material (sometimes shortened) each time they appear. The solo passages, on the other hand, are
harmonically unstable (they modulate), and they introduce new thematic material (usually some
sort of virtuoso figuration) each time. The form as a whole can be heard as a series of active solo
passages (each one different), framed and separated by stable tutti passages.

The tutti passages are called ritornellos (because they return in more or less the same form).
The opening ritornello presents one or more themes in the tonic key. After the first solo passage
modulates, the second ritornello presents some of the original thematic material in the new key.
Then the second solo passage modulates again, and the third ritornello presents old material in
the new key. This goes on until at last there is a return to the home key, where the opening
ritornello is presented (sometimes intact) one last time to close the movement. In a piece in the
major mode it was conventional for the first solo passage to move to V (the dominant) and the
second to move to vi (the relative minor). This was the minimum length. If there were further
solo passages, they would go to other closely related keys (iii, ii, or IV). Here’s the way it
would look in a diagram:

The Late Baroque Instrumental Concerto

Ritornello 1 Solo 1 Rit 2 Solo 2 Rit 3 Solo 3 Rit 4

P theme new P new P new P
I I →V V V → vi vi vi →I I

In the da capo aria of Baroque opera, similar principles are used. Again the ritornellos are stable
harmonically and re-use the same material, while the solo passages (here the sung parts)
modulate. In this case, however, the two solo passages of the A section usually begin with the
same theme as the ritornello (the B section normally has a different melody and a different text).
Within the A section of the aria, there are two solo passages framed by three ritornellos. The first
solo moves to V; the second returns to I. Here’s how it looks:
 18

The Late Baroque Da Capo Aria

---------------------------- A section------------------------------ [B section + A section

da capo]

Ritornello 1 Solo 1 Rit 2 Solo 2 Rit 3

P theme P P? P P
I I→V V V→I I

In its harmonic structure (two halves moving from tonic to dominant and back) and in its
thematic unity (same theme in both ritornello and solo passages), the A section of the da capo
aria already had some basic features of sonata form. As the first movements of concertos
expanded in the Classical period, the influence of sonata form grew. In Mozart’s first
movements we can still identify three ritornellos: one at the beginning in the tonic key, a second
in the middle in V, and a third at the end in I again. And as in the A section of the aria, the first
solo passage still modulates to V and the second returns to I. But the nature of all these passages
is changed so as to approximate the basic outlines of a movement in sonata form.

In Classical concerto form the opening ritornello is quite large and presents a series of themes
that sound like P, S, and K of a sonata form exposition. Although there is a transition passage
between P and S, however, there is usually no modulation; the transition simply arrives on V/I,
and the S and K themes follow in I. In this respect, the ritornello still functions in the old way,
presenting themes without changing key. The modulation is still reserved for the first solo
passage, which now goes through the same series of themes (sometimes adding to it) with the
difference that there is a change of key between P and S. This first solo passage is therefore a
real sonata-form exposition, whereas Ritornello 1 was like an orchestral exposition, but without a
modulation; it is for this reason that some people refer to this as “double-exposition form”.

After a short Ritornello 2 in V, the second solo passage then presents something like a
development section, moving through other keys before eventually returning to the tonic. At this
point the principles of sonata form take over and there is a full recapitulation, presented jointly
by orchestra and soloist. When the final cadence is reached, with a long trill for the soloist, the
orchestra has a final, short Ritornello 3. This last ritornello was always interrupted for a solo
cadenza, essentially a lengthy embellishment of a I6/4 → V5/3 → I cadence. A diagram looks like
this:

First Movement in the Classical Concerto

 19

Ritornello 1 Solo 1 Rit 2 ------------ Solo 2 ------------ Rit 3

[+ cadenza]
P S K P S ?P or K P S ?P or K
I → I I I→ V V → V/I I→I I

Orchestral Solo Development Recapitulation

Exposition Exposition

By Mozart’s time the influence of sonata form on the concerto had become so strong that it was
easy to hear the first movement of a concerto as a sonata form for the soloist, with ritornellos
added at the beginning, middle, and end. And indeed, Mozart’s own very first concertos were
created by taking keyboard sonatas by other composers (including our sonata by J.C. Bach) and
adding the three ritornellos, together with a light orchestral accompaniment to the solo passages.
Our example of a mature Classical concerto form is the first movement of Mozart’s K.467
(No.21 in C major).

The convention of a lengthy opening ritornello was strong, but as it expanded to approximate a
sonata form exposition, the absence of a modulation (still reserved for the soloist) became a
problem – there was too much music in the same key before the solo entry. Eventually, in the
19th century after Beethoven, many composers abandoned the old ritornello convention entirely
and simply wrote a large first movement in sonata form for orchestra and soloist together. This
is true of the concertos by Mendelssohn, Schumann, Tchaikovsky, and others in the 1830s and
later (though the ritornello convention can still be heard in some concertos by Chopin and
Brahms).

The Overall Format of Classical Period Works

Format refers here to the sequence and type of the movements. The original model for the
symphony was the overture to an Italian opera seria, which was called sinfonia avanti l’opera
(symphony before the opera). This had three movements in the sequence fast-slow-fast; the
third movement was often a dance movement, normally a minuet. In the later works of Haydn,
Mozart, and Beethoven, a four-movement format becomes the norm, with a fast first movement
and a fast finale framing a slow movement and a minuet. Either sequence of the inner
movements is possible; in most cases the slow movement comes second, but in two of our
pieces - Haydn’s No.44 and Beethoven’s Ninth - it comes third. This same four-movement
format was also used for string quartets and quintets. Beethoven even used it for some piano
sonatas, violin sonatas, and piano trios (perhaps suggesting that these works aspired to the stature
of symphonies and quartets). Whereas all the movements of a suite by J.S. Bach were in the
 20

same key, in a Classical period work the slow movement is always in a different key from the
outer movements.

It was more common for piano sonatas, violin sonatas, and piano trios to be in three movements,
usually fast-slow-fast. In practice, the piano sonata was the least predictable; some sonatas have
only two movements and some have four, and some have an unusual sequence (Beethoven’s
“Moonlight” Sonata begins with a slow movement, while his Sonata Op.109 ends with one).
Serenades, divertimentos, and cassations frequently have extra slow movements and minuets:
e.g., F-M-S-M-F or F-S-M-S-M-F. Concertos are almost always fast-slow-fast.

The fast first movement of any work may be preceded by a slow introduction. This creates a
grand or ceremonial effect that is most appropriate to public pieces like symphonies; Haydn
used slow introductions often in the grand symphonies he wrote for public concerts in Paris and
London (we’ll hear No.100). Slow introductions are less common in chamber music or sonatas;
on the rare occasions when they are included, they are a sign that the work will be especially
ambitious or profound.

The minuets in Classical works (which were always in the home key) became increasingly
complex and stylized and eventually lost much of their dance character. By 1780 Haydn was
using the title scherzo (= ‘joke’ in Italian) for some of his faster dance movements in triple
meter. After 1800 the dance movements of most works were called scherzos.
 21

Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven: The Three Masters of Viennese Classicism

Joseph Haydn was born in what is now Austria in 1732, the same year as George Washington.
He was one of 12 children. His father, a wheelwright by trade, was a church organist and singer,
and his mother also sang. When he was 8, Haydn was sent to Vienna, where he became a
member of the boy choirs at St. Stephen’s, which gave him access to a good education. By the
time his voice broke, he had become a passable violinist and keyboard player (still harpsichord
rather than piano at this point), and he had studied composition as well.

For a time Haydn eked out a living by giving lessons and playing accompaniments for a singing
teacher. In 1758 he got an appointment in the service of an Austrian count. Then in 1761 Prince
Paul Anton Esterhazy hired Haydn away to become second-in-command of music at his estate,
which was located some distance from Vienna at Eisenstadt. A year later Paul died and was
succeeded by his brother Nikolaus. By 1766 Haydn had been given the top job as Kapellmeister,
in charge of hiring musicians and composing and directing operas and instrumental music of all
kinds. He remained in that position until 1790, when Nikolaus Esterhazy died and Haydn went
into semi-retirement in Vienna.

By the 1790s Haydn’s fame had spread throughout Europe, the result of publication and
performance of his music. In 1785 he had been commissioned to write six symphonies (now
called the “Paris Symphonies”, Nos. 82-87) for performance in Paris. And immediately
following his retirement from full-time service to the Esterhazy family he was invited to England
by the violinist-impresario Johan Peter Salomon. This invitation led ultimately to two long trips,
the first in 1790-92 and the second in 1794-95. Haydn was received in London as a great man;
his concerts there were major events, and he was given a doctorate in music by Oxford
University. For each London trip he composed six symphonies, and these last 12 symphonies are
now referred to as the “London” or “Salomon” Symphonies (Nos. 93-104). Some of his best-
known piano sonatas and chamber works also date from the London trips. Our Symphony
No.100 was one that Haydn composed during his second London trip.

After 1795 Haydn’s activity gradually declined. His last great works were a series of Masses and
two oratorios, The Creation (1798) and The Seasons (1801), monumental works that confirmed
his status as Europe’s most revered composer. These last works were written after Mozart’s
death (in 1791) and just at the time when Beethoven was reaching maturity. Beethoven had
actually studied counterpoint with Haydn in Vienna during the year between the two London
trips. After 1800 Haydn made no attempt to react to works like the Eroica Symphony; pleading
weakness, he completed no new pieces between The Seasons and his death in 1809.

Haydn was the first great master of the Classical style. As he himself put it:
 22

My prince was content with all my works. I received approval, I could, as head of
an orchestra, make experiments, observe what created an impression and what
weakened it, thus improving, adding to, cutting away, and running risks. I was set
apart from the world, there was nobody in my vicinity to confuse and annoy me in
my course, and so I had to become original.

Haydn’s music of the 1760s and 1770s does indeed experiment with form and expression. These
were years in which music everywhere was in flux, mixing elements of the old Baroque style
with new things. Early works by Haydn move freely between the brilliant style galant of J.C.
Bach and the more expressive empfindsamer Stil of C.P.E. Bach. And in the early 1770s Haydn
was the primary exponent of a style we call the Sturm und Drang (usually translated as “storm
and stress”). This was characterized by hard-driving music in the minor mode, a striking
departure from the generally cheerful and emotionally restrained style of most early Classical
period music. We’ll hear this Sturm und Drang style in the Symphony No.44.

Although he composed a great deal of vocal music, including about 20 operas, Haydn is known
particularly as the ‘father’ of the symphony and the string quartet, two genres in which he
excelled and on whose development he had a decisive influence. His quartets and symphonies of
the 1770s and 1780s were admired and copied by Mozart, and Beethoven was strongly
influenced by the works Haydn wrote for London in the 1790s. In his string quartets of about
1780 (beginning with Op.33) Haydn achieved a balance of formal clarity and subtlety in the
treatment of material that made this the most sophisticated of genres, prized by professionals and
well-trained amateurs. Haydn became friends with Mozart at about this time, and there are
wonderful stories of quartet evenings in the 1780s with two other Viennese composers (Haydn
played first violin, Mozart viola).

The “Paris” and “London” Symphonies are Haydn’s crowning achievement in that genre. Like
his mature quartets, they achieve a balance between clarity and sophistication that seems to
define what ‘classical’ means. These are works conceived to make a great impression in public
performance. Most of them begin with an impressive slow introduction that establishes an
atmosphere of pomp and seriousness. On the other hand, the material of the fast movements –
the first movement Allegro, the Minuet, and the Finale – has a new, rather popular aspect to it
that is not quite like folksong but immediately accessible. The works manage to sound wise and
witty at the same time. Audiences and critics were bowled over by them, and they are still
Haydn’s most popular works.

Haydn appealed less to the audiences of the 19th century than did Mozart and especially
Beethoven. Modern listeners, still very much influenced by the Romantic view of art as self-
expression, tend also to value Haydn least of the three great Viennese Classical composers. He
was a full generation older than Mozart and Beethoven, and his long years of service to the
Esterhazy family allied him with the old regime. We still think of Haydn with a wig, but not
Beethoven (Mozart seems to be struggling to get out of his). There is an emotional restraint, a
 23

formality and propriety, to Haydn’s music that makes it difficult to know the man behind it.
What comes through is the intelligence and especially a sense of play and good humor.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart has become the virtual definition of prodigy. He was miraculously
able to play and compose music at a very early age. His father Leopold, himself a well-known
musician and deputy Kapellmeister at the court in Salzburg (Austria), recognized this ability and
encouraged it systematically from the start. Taking extended leaves of absence from his own
position, Leopold traveled across Europe with little Wolfgang and his sister Nannerl, who was
five years older and also talented. Together they appeared before kings and queens from Italy to
England, creating amazement wherever they went and making a great deal of money for the
family. Mozart was born in 1756. By 1764, on his first trip to London, the 8-year-old was
already composing symphonies.

The young Mozart soaked up influences during his years of travel as a prodigy. An important
early influence was Johann Christian Bach, whom he met in London; they improvised together
at the harpsichord, with Wolfgang on J.C.’s lap. Mozart was also exposed early to Italian opera,
which became his first love. He was commissioned to write one (on a topic from Roman history)
for the opera house in Milan when he was 14.

After an early life spent in glittering surroundings, amid adoring musicians and aristocrats, it is
perhaps little wonder that Mozart was bored by life in Salzburg, where he too was employed.
When he was 21 he set out on a fateful journey in search of a better position, this time with his
mother as his traveling companion. He passed through Mannheim, where he was befriended by
members of the great court orchestra and where he fell in love with a soprano. His father
quashed that relationship and urged him on to Paris. There things fell apart. His mother died.
And no one wanted to hire him. He was no longer a child prodigy, and he seems to have lacked
an ability to deal diplomatically with his intellectual and musical inferiors, the sort of personal
skills that helped the less gifted Haydn make his way in society. The movie Amadeus tried to
explain this by suggesting that Mozart never really grew up.

He came back to Salzburg with nothing to show for his trip. He remained employed there until
1781, when he managed to get himself fired for insubordination. Leopold was unhappy, but
Wolfgang was liberated. He moved to Vienna, got married to the sister of the Mannheim soprano
(a decision that infuriated his father), and began to make his name in the capital. He began to
live the precarious life of an independent composer-performer. At first things went well. He still
relied on aristocratic students, but he also organized successful concerts of his own music, and he
won commissions for operas in Vienna and nearby Prague. He also became friends with Haydn.
In the mid-1780s he composed The Marriage of Figaro and Don Giovanni, his last six
symphonies, most of his great piano concertos (written for his concerts), and a large amount of
chamber music.
 24

In the late 1780s, however, for reasons that have never been fully explained, his fortunes
changed. His concerts stopped making money, and he was frequently in debt. Although he held
minor posts at court, they were not enough to support his family. He seems to have alienated
many of his aristocratic supporters; his operas do not show the aristocracy in a favorable light.
Things might have taken a new direction after 1791, when his last opera, The Magic Flute, had a
big success with a lower-class audience at a popular theater. We shall never know. He fell ill
and died soon after the first performances, on December 5, 1791. He was 35.

Mozart packed a great deal of music, most of it of very high quality, into his short life: 41
symphonies, 27 piano concertos, 23 quartets, and so forth. His mature operas are the earliest
operas that survive in the standard repertory of opera houses today (we’ll discuss the reasons for
this in class). Opera, especially Italian opera, was his first love, and a sense of the theater and
dramatic pacing is central to his personal style, even in instrumental works. He had an uncanny
insight into the psychology of his operatic characters, something he was oddly unable to use in
his own dealings with real people. In the 1780s, under the influence of Haydn and (later) Bach
and Handel, his style deepened and became more complex. But it is above all its singing quality
and the sense of human vulnerability that it projects that distinguish Mozart’s music from
Haydn’s, and make it seem more modern.

Like Mozart, Ludwig van Beethoven was born into a family of musicians at a provincial court,
in 1770 in the town of Bonn on the Rhine River. His grandfather had been Kapellmeister at
court, and his father was a singer. Beethoven began playing piano and organ at a young age, and
by the time he was 11 he had published some compositions, too. Attempts to sell him as a child
prodigy like Mozart (including lying about his age) were not successful, however, and he had a
difficult childhood. In 1787 he made a trip to Vienna with the intention of studying with Mozart,
but the death of his mother in Bonn forced him to return after only a few weeks. Before he was
20 he was forced to assume the care of his two younger brothers because of his father’s
alcoholism.

The situation began to improve in the early 1790s, when Haydn (traveling through Bonn on his
first trip to London) agreed to take Beethoven as a pupil. In what proved to be a prophetic entry
in Beethoven’s travel diary, Count Waldstein, one of his aristocratic Bonn patrons, wrote:

Dear Beethoven: You are going to Vienna in fulfillment of your long frustrated
wishes. The Genius of Mozart is still mourning and weeping over the death of her
pupil. She found a refuge but no occupation with the inexhaustible Haydn:
through him she wishes once more to form a union with another. With the help of
assiduous labor you shall receive Mozart’s spirit from Haydn’s hands. Your true
friend, Waldstein.

The move to Vienna came in November, 1792. Beethoven was immediately accepted by the
Viennese aristocracy, who were related to members of the Bonn court. They provided him with
 25

lodging and piano pupils, and their private concerts gave him a place to try out his own
compositions. Studies with Haydn lasted for only about a year, up to Haydn’s second departure
for England in January, 1794. They appear not to have gone very well in any case, for
Beethoven went on the sly to at least two other counterpoint teachers in Vienna while Haydn was
still around.

By 1795 he was ready to strike out on his own. Going back to Bonn, the original plan, was no
longer an option. Napoleon’s troops had forced a disruption of activity there. So Beethoven
began the life of an independent composer-performer in Vienna, rather like Mozart a dozen years
before, earning his living by teaching piano, giving occasional concerts, and selling his works to
publishers. Surprisingly, although he was a notoriously difficult person to get along with, his
aristocratic patrons tolerated him. In later years they even paid him an annual salary with no
obligations, just to keep him in Vienna.

The music that Beethoven wrote up to 1800 was almost all for piano: piano sonatas and
variations, sonatas for piano with violin or cello, piano trios, and piano concertos. Although the
counterpoint lessons with Haydn did not work well, Beethoven learned a lot from studying
Haydn’s music, especially the 12 very popular symphonies Haydn wrote for his two London
trips. Around 1800, just when Haydn stopped composing, Beethoven began to move beyond the
piano to other, more prestigious genres. His first six string quartets were composed in
1798-1800, his First Symphony was written and performed in 1800, a ballet (The Creatures of
Prometheus) dates from 1801, an oratorio (Christ on the Mount of Olives) from 1802-03, and his
first and only opera (Fidelio) from 1804-05.

What is poignant about this great outburst of confident activity is that it corresponds exactly to
the first signs of a problem with Beethoven’s hearing. He consulted doctors about it but did not
say anything in Vienna for fear of jeopardizing his career. The first admissions come in letters to
friends outside Vienna:

I must confess that I am living a miserable life. For almost two years I have
ceased to attend any social functions, just because I find it impossible to say to
people: I am deaf. If I had any other profession it would be easier, but in my
profession it is a terrible handicap. As for my enemies, of whom I have a fair
number, what would they say? [June, 1801]

His despair reached a climax in the document known as the Heiligenstadt Testament, a letter (or
perhaps a will) addressed to his brothers. It was written in the country town of Heiligenstadt in
October, 1802 and found among Beethoven’s papers after his death. [You can read it in the score
packet.] Both the letters and the Testament seem to exaggerate the extent of the problem with his
hearing at that time, and it is clear that he remained very active professionally. It was not until
after 1812, in fact, that his hearing was so poor as to prevent him from playing in public, and
only in his last years that he had to resort to writing to communicate with visitors. Nevertheless,
 26

the threat to his livelihood and his social life was real enough, and his already moody nature had
trouble coping with it.

His response was to play out the conflict in a series of works that mark a turning point in music
history. Starting in 1803, with the Kreutzer Sonata and the Eroica Symphony (No. 3), his
already intense music grew more violent and dramatic, and in work after work he seems to have
confronted adversity and triumphed over it. These are the works of his middle (or ‘heroic’)
period, a period that extends roughly from the Eroica to the Seventh and Eighth Symphonies of
1812 before finally exhausting itself. Not every work of these years involves heroic conflict and
resolution, but many of them do, and their style has become synonymous with Beethoven in the
popular imagination.

The years 1812-1814 were successful ones for Beethoven; his music was played often to great
acclaim. But they were also transitional years in his personal and compositional life. In 1812 he
seems to have broken off an important relationship with the woman known to us only as the
“Immortal Beloved”, a term he used in a letter to her that year (perhaps you’ve seen the movie
with that title, which is mostly fiction). He wrote little new music of importance in these years
after the Eighth Symphony, and his performing career was at an end because of his deafness.

When he began an important series of new works in about 1815, the heroic middle-period style
was left largely behind. In its place was a more complex style, musically and emotionally. Most
of the new works were now piano sonatas and string quartets, pieces we refer to as the “late”
sonatas and quartets. He wrote one last symphony, the Ninth, on a commission from London.
It was during these last years, from 1815 to his death in 1827, that Beethoven became involved
in a troubled relationship with his nephew, the young son of his brother Carl (who died of
tuberculosis in 1815). He went to court to take the child from his sister-in-law. The combination
of a deaf, neurotic composer and a young boy who missed his mother was not a happy one, and
in his late music Beethoven betrays an emotional vulnerability that was not present in the heroic
pieces.

After his death, Beethoven became an important prototype for the next generation of Romantic
composers, and he has remained the central model in various ways right up to our own time. The
idea of the composer as a prophet-like creator, communicating special insights in highly personal
works, derives primarily from Beethoven, whose music had an unprecedented power and who
seemed to make each work different from all the others. The tragic story of his life, with its
edifying artistic triumph over deafness, made Beethoven seem all the more worthy of adulation.
You’ll read Wagner’s interpretation of Beethoven’s deafness and triumph in an excerpt from a
book he wrote in 1870. Equally important, Beethoven put his music together in ways that made
it seem to grow organically from beginning to end. The Fifth Symphony was particularly
influential as an example of organic unity over an entire work. The general idea that organic
structure is a value in music has had an enormous impact on the way music has been composed
and evaluated since Beethoven.
27
 28

Music in the Romantic Period

Background
Early Romanticism
Paris and Romanticism, 1825-1850
Sonata Form and Sonata Format in the 19th Century
Schubert's Harmonic and Formal Innovations
The Large Forms after Beethoven and Schubert, continued
Large Instrumental Forms: Summary
Small Forms
Song
Opera in the 19th Century [to be covered after the midterm]
19th-Century French Opera
19th-Century Italian Opera
19th-Century German Opera

Background

For a period of about 70 years, from the 1750s to the 1820s, the mainstream of music history
flowed through Vienna, the capital city of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in central Europe. This
was in some respects an historical accident; other cities also had active musical lives. But for
various reasons the greatest composers of the period – Gluck, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and
Schubert – found their way to Vienna, and remained there to the ends of their careers. With the
exception of Schubert, who was born in Vienna and never left, each was tempted by (or sought)
opportunities for employment elsewhere. Gluck produced his operas in Paris; Haydn made two
triumphant trips to London; Mozart and Beethoven both traveled north as far as Berlin in search
of a court position and returned to Vienna empty-handed.

Gluck died in 1787. Mozart died in 1791. Haydn retired from his position with the Esterhazy
family in 1790. When Beethoven arrived in Vienna two years later, in 1792, for studies with
Haydn, the French Revolution of 1789 was already beginning to alter the political and social
landscape. By 1794 French troops had occupied his home city of Bonn, on the Rhine, making it
impractical for him to return there. The Viennese aristocracy provided him with piano students,
concert opportunities, and support for his first publications. By the turn of the century, however,
the Napoleonic wars had begun to affect Vienna as well; in 1806 Beethoven’s opera Fidelio was
a failure because much of the aristocracy had evacuated the city. After the defeat of Napoleon in
1812 and the Congress of Vienna in 1814, the political situation in Austria was stabilized under a
new, repressive government. The last fifteen years of Beethoven’s life coincided with the short
career of Schubert. By 1814 Beethoven’s “heroic” middle period was over; he was deaf and
stopped performing in public, and his strange late works were inaccessible to most listeners.
Moreover, the aristocratic circles that had supported him were no longer willing (or financially
 29

able) to support the less charismatic Schubert, whose music was seldom performed in public and
who wrote songs and short piano pieces for the amusement of middle-class amateurs. After the
deaths of Beethoven and Schubert in 1827 and 1828, no major composer worked in Vienna until
Brahms arrived almost 30 years later. By then the musical life of the city was centered on the
ballroom and the waltzes of the Strauss family.

The deaths of Beethoven and Schubert effectively marked the end of the Classical period in
music. Already in the 1810s and 1820s the Classical style had begun its fall from favor. The
operas of Rossini (b.1792) and Weber (b.1786) displaced those of Gluck and Mozart (a fact that
Beethoven complained about). Weber and the young Schubert were caught between styles, still
indebted to Classical models in their instrumental works while exploring new things in their
vocal music. With the first generation of Romantic composers, born after 1800, music history
moved decisively in new aesthetic directions and the action shifted to new places. Liszt came to
Vienna as a boy to study with Beethoven’s pupil Carl Czerny, but left by the mid-1820s. Chopin
came to Vienna to concertize in the late 1820s, but didn’t stay. A decade later, Schumann came
to Vienna with thoughts of settling there, but changed his mind. Schumann returned to his home
city of Leipzig in northern Germany, and Mendelssohn also moved there as director of the civic
orchestra. Chopin and Liszt found their way to Paris.

Early Romanticism

The so-called Romantic movement has always proved difficult to define and date. As we have
seen, some historians would prefer to avoid the problem of distinguishing between Classical and
Romantic periods in music by treating the two together as a single period extending from 1750 to
1900. One justification is the continuity of the most important musical forms – especially sonata
form – throughout this period. It’s also clear that the people at the heart of the Romantic
movement in the early 1800s viewed the scene differently than we do today. All the early
Romantic composers considered Beethoven as one of them, and the influential writer/composer
E.T.A. Hoffmann, writing about the Fifth Symphony in 1810, described Haydn and Mozart as
Romantics as well.

One seldom finds a person with romantic taste; romantic talent is even rarer. This
is probably why there are so few who can play that lyre which unlocks the
marvelous realm of the infinite. Haydn has a romantic conception of the human in
human life; he is more suitable for the majority. Mozart claims the superhuman,
the amazing, which dwells in the inner spirit. Beethoven’s music induces terror,
fright, horror and pain and awakens that endless longing which is the essence of
romanticism.

If we adopt the perspective of the early Romantics, then, it is musical Classicism that becomes
problematical. Musical Romanticism would extend back to the end of the 18th century and
coincide with the beginnings of Romantic literature in England (Wordsworth, Byron, Shelley,
 30

Coleridge, Keats), Germany (Tieck, Novalis, Hoffmann, the Schlegel brothers), and France
(Chateaubriand, Lamartine). It was near the end of the 18th century that the influential
philosopher Immanuel Kant began to question the idea that external reality is knowable through
our senses and our reasonable faculties. In a world where reality lay in subjective experience,
the artist’s own perception of things took on new significance. Wordsworth spoke of himself as
the subject of his poetry, and looking inward became a way of seeking truth for Romantic artists.
Little wonder that the highly personal qualities of Beethoven’s music were experienced as
consistent with this new aesthetic, although Enlightenment principles are the basis of his thinking
right up to the Ninth Symphony.

Accordingly, later music historians have preferred to see a fundamental change after the works of
Beethoven’s middle period. Grout-Burkholder offers this as a distinction between Classical and
Romantic mentalities:

As against the classic ideals of order, equilibrium, control, and perfection within
acknowledged limits, Romanticism cherishes freedom, movement, passion, and
endless pursuit of the unattainable. And just because its goal can never be
attained, romantic art is haunted by a spirit of longing, of yearning after an
impossible fulfillment.

In a later passage of his review of the Fifth Symphony, Hoffmann used a striking ‘organic’ image
to describe the reconciliation of endless longing and structural perfection:

…one usually views his works as products of a genius who, unconcerned with
form and the selection of ideas, surrenders himself to his ardent passion and to the
spontaneous inspiration of his powers of imagination. Nevertheless…just as the
esthetic surveyors have often complained of a complete lack of true unity and
inner coherence in Shakespeare, while only those of deeper vision have witnessed
the springing forth of a beautiful tree, buds and leaves, blossoms and fruits, from
a germinal seed – so too will only a very deep penetration into the inner structure
of Beethoven’s music reveal the great extent of the master’s control.

Hoffmann’s insight accounts for the paradox of Beethoven’s historical position between
Classicism and Romanticism. Today Beethoven is viewed as having realized the dramatic
potential of the Classical sonata form developed by Haydn and Mozart, and the structural
integrity of his big works is seen by analysts as historically more significant than their emotional
content. Thus “order, equilibrium, control, and perfection within acknowledged limits” seems to
define him more effectively than “a spirit of longing, of yearning after an impossible
fulfillment”. Romanticism in turn is associated with the new lyric introspection of Lieder and
short piano pieces by Schubert, Chopin, Schumann, and Liszt, and with the wild-eyed
programmatic symphonies of Berlioz. And so we turn our attention from Vienna to Paris.
 31

Paris and Romanticism, 1825-1850

In the late 1820s Paris became the center of the Romantic movement in the arts. In the theater
there, a debate had been underway for some time between the advocates of French Classicism,
symbolized by Racine and characterized by the unities of time, place, and action that went back
to Greek models, and the advocates of Romanticism, symbolized by Shakespeare and
characterized by a mixture of sublime and grotesque elements and freedom from the classical
unities. A visit by an English troupe performing Shakespeare (in English) in 1827 won the day
for the Romantics. Their leader, Victor Hugo, published a manifesto (the Preface to Cromwell)
and produced his first play, Hernani, modeled on Shakespearean principles in 1830. He also
wrote poetry and novels (such as The Hunchback of Notre-Dame and Les Misérables) in a new
Romantic style. In music, an orchestra of virtuosi was formed at the Paris Conservatory and
began a series of performances of the Beethoven symphonies that inspired the same sort of
controversy, though in this case there was no model of restraint to set against the provocative
Beethoven, whom the Romantics treated as one of their own. And in the opera house the
classical tragedies of Gluck were replaced by a new, sensational kind of grand opera with
Romantic plots.

The only native French composer of genius was Hector Berlioz, who was profoundly influenced
by both the Shakespearean troupe (the encounter is described in his Memoirs and he later
married the leading actress) and the performances of Beethoven. He wrote his own Symphonie
fantastique in 1830 for the same Conservatory orchestra. But at the same time an influx of piano
virtuosi began, attracted by the salons of upper-class Parisian society, and for a period of 20
years or so – from the late 1820s to the late 1840s – Paris was home base for a generation of
pianist-composers who wrote and played a new sort of Romantic piano music. Most of them
were foreigners, led by the Polish Chopin, the Hungarian Liszt, and the Austrian Sigismond
Thalberg, who was Liszt’s chief rival on the concert stage. Inspired in part by the violinist
Paganini, these pianists brought piano technique to unprecedented levels of virtuosity. The
physically fragile Chopin disliked public concerts and preferred to earn his living as a high-
priced teacher of high-society amateurs. But Liszt and Thalberg undertook tours of Europe that
established the solo piano recital as a concert event.

The piano itself developed rapidly to keep up with the demands of the new music and the larger
venues. Liszt in particular cultivated a new sort of superstar image in his concerts, making
flamboyant entrances, throwing gloves or handkerchiefs to his (female) admirers, and
performing with his striking profile to the audience (this was new). The repertory he played was
not what one hears today; it was an odd mixture of original works and transcriptions:
movements of Beethoven symphonies, Schubert songs, fantasies on tunes from popular operas,
and a variety of virtuoso short pieces. Audiences were less interested in hearing piano sonatas,
and when Liszt tried programming difficult new music such as Schumann’s Carnaval, it did not
go down well.
 32

The first bloom of the Romantic movement was over by 1850. Liszt retired from the concert
stage in 1848. Chopin died in 1849, Mendelssohn in 1847. After chronic bouts of depression,
Schumann died in an asylum in 1856; his best work had been done years earlier. Though
Berlioz lived to 1869, all his influential symphonic works were written in the 1830s and 1840s.
Among the composers of Romantic opera, Rossini had ended his career with William Tell in
1828, Bellini was dead at 34 in 1835, and Donizetti in 1848 (also in an asylum). The second half
of the century belonged to a second Romantic generation: Brahms, Bruckner, Tchaikovsky,
Dvorak, Franck, Saint-Saëns, Gounod, Bizet, Wolf. Only Wagner and Verdi, both born in 1813,
were relatively late starters whose work straddled both halves of the Romantic century.
 33

Sonata Form and Sonata Format in the 19th Century

It was inevitable that as the language of music grew richer in the 19th century the forms would
be affected. What is surprising, perhaps, is how much was actually preserved. The main
instrumental genres of the Classical period – symphony, quartet, concerto, sonata, and chamber
music with piano – continued to be cultivated, and the basic Classical forms continued to be
used. Sonata form is still the form of choice for first movements. It is for this reason that some
historians prefer to ignore the changes in style and the emergence of new genres and to view the
Classical and Romantic periods as a single period dominated by the principle of sonata form.

It's important to see how this continuity relates to the social and aesthetic history of 19th century
music. With the emergence of the middle class as consumers of music, there was a rapid
increase in the number of public concerts throughout Europe and the USA, and civic orchestras
were created to perform them. One result was the establishment of a concert repertory that
continued to be performed and to which young composers could add new works. There were
some works of Haydn and Mozart in this repertory, but its core was (and remains to this day)
Beethoven. The existence of a canon of standard repertory works gave special status to their
format and to sonata form itself.

As we have seen, what Beethoven brought to the model he inherited from Haydn and Mozart
was a heightened sense of how sonata form could be exploited to dramatic effect. He increased
tension by prolonging passages of dominant preparation for major harmonic arrivals, and he
delayed resolution by undercutting the expected arrivals and returning to the same passages at a
later point in a movement. His development sections are longer and more dramatic than those of
Haydn and Mozart, and he frequently uses an expanded coda to recall the development and
supply the resolution that was undercut at the recapitulation. In general, Beethoven also worked
with more dramatic material. He increases the level of dissonance, the number of syncopations
and dynamic accents, the abrupt contrast of loud and soft, and the use of winds.

All these things exploit the drama inherent in the principle of harmonic departure and return that
underlies sonata form. They also stretch the limits of good taste within which Haydn and Mozart
had worked. The result is that Beethoven's sonata-form movements seem to be highly personal
statements, in which some narrative of conflict and resolution is played out. The best examples
are the works of his middle period (1803-1812), which followed the initial crisis with his
hearing; these (along with the Ninth Symphony of 1824) were the ones that had the greatest
influence on later generations of composers with their own personal experiences to
communicate.

Beethoven himself achieved a precarious balance between the dramatic qualities of his material
and the overall clarity of his sonata forms. Later generations tipped this balance decidedly in the
direction of the thematic material, at the expense of tonal clarity. Simply stated, in sonata forms
by composers of the Romantic period (roughly, the 19th century) the harmonic vocabulary
 34

becomes more complex than Beethoven's, the range of key relationships is extended, and the
themes acquire a distinctive character that transcends their role in the form. We'll see the first
steps in this direction in some pieces from the 1820s by Schubert.

Schubert's Harmonic and Formal Innovations

To appreciate what happened to chord and key relationships in early Romantic music it will be
helpful to review quickly some basics from Theory I-III. Throughout the 18th century, from Bach
and Handel to Haydn, Mozart, and (for the most part) even Beethoven, composers used a rather
narrow vocabulary of chords. Within any key, they concentrated on the triads built on the normal
scale degrees of the key. Thus, for example, music in C major would use C major (I), D minor
(ii), E minor (iii), F major (IV), G major (V), and A minor (vi). (The diminished triad on the
seventh scale degree – here B-D-F – tends to occur only as the top three notes of a V7 chord with
G on the bottom.) All these chords use the notes of the C major scale; they require no added
sharps or flats. If a change of key – a modulation – occurred, the music would then use the
analogous chords in the new key. Thus if a piece modulated from C major to G major, after the
modulation it would use G major (I), A minor (ii), B minor (iii), C major (IV), D major (V), and
E minor (vi) – the chords built on the scale degrees of G major.

In addition to restricting their chord vocabulary, composers also normally restricted the range of
keys a piece would use. In fact, it was normal to modulate only to those keys in which one of the
original chords (ii, iii, IV, V, or vi) could become the new tonic chord. Thus a piece that started
in C major might modulate to the key of D minor, E minor, F major, G major, or A minor. All
these keys are closely related to the original key in one very basic respect: each one has a key
signature that adds at most one sharp or one flat to the original key signature. This means that
only one degree of the original scale has to be changed to reach the new key. Before 1750, in
Bach's time, almost all pieces modulated first to V (the dominant) and then to vi (the relative
minor); that is to say, all pieces in C major would modulate first to G major and then to A minor.
Composers in the late 18th century (Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven) got a bit more adventurous,
especially in the development sections of sonata forms (see below), but these relationships were
still the central and most frequent ones.

In minor keys the principle was the same, though of course because the minor scale is different,
the chords themselves were also different. Thus in C minor the naturally occurring triads are C
minor (i), Eb major (III), F minor (iv), G minor (v), Ab major (VI), and Bb major (VII). (Here it is
the chord on the second scale degree that is diminished: D-F-Ab.) A piece in a minor key would
use these chords, though Bb would usually be altered to the leading tone B-natural in order to
make a normal V chord on G. The first modulation in a piece in a minor key would normally be
to III, the relative major – in our case from C minor to Eb major.

So what did Schubert do that was new? More than any composer before him, he freely mixed
the two modes of whatever key he was using. If he were composing a piece in C, he might
alternate without warning between C major and C minor. What does this mean? First of all, it
 35

means that he would use either the major or the minor form of the tonic chord (C-E-G or C-Eb-
G). Equally important, however, as he changed back and forth between the major and minor
modes of the key, the scales of both modes and also the chords built on those two scales became
available to him. So a piece in C might draw on all the chords of both C major and C minor. A
rather striking effect is produced when a piece that has been moving along in C major suddenly
begins using the scale and chords of C minor. This is because in C minor three of the seven scale
degrees are different (Eb instead of E, Ab instead of A, and Bb instead of B) and as a result all the
chords are different, as we saw above.

Having decided that the two modes of his home key could be used interchangeably, Schubert
also took the next logical step and modulated freely to the keys related to both modes of the
original key. Thus a piece that started in C major might modulate to either A minor (vi) or Ab
major (VI), and so forth. And though Ab major has only one more flat than C minor, it has four
more flats than C major; for this reason, Ab major might feel closely related to C minor, but it
seems rather distant from C major (our perception of the distance between keys depends a lot on
how many of the original scale degrees have to be changed to get from one key to the other).

In Schubert's music, then, the harmonic vocabulary sounds richer than that of his predecessors,
and the range of keys is also greater. There is a secondary effect to this richness. When the
chords from the two modes are mixed, our ear has trouble recognizing the relationship between
them. The same is true of keys. Too many scale degrees are being altered at the same time. So
the music becomes more colorful harmonically, but it also becomes harder to follow, and the
larger form can be harder to hear. You probably discovered this in your Fundies classes.

Schubert's colorful harmonic vocabulary had an important effect on his treatment of the Classical
forms. It was most pronounced in his instrumental movements in sonata form. Here again is the
usual layout of Classical sonata form:

Intro Exposition Development Recapitulation Coda

⏐⏐: P trans S K :⏐⏐ free P trans S K P

I I → V new keys I → I I

Schubert wrote many sonata form movements that follow this diagram fairly closely. But some
of his most striking works add harmonic twists to the basic plan, above all in the exposition and
recapitulation. One such twist involves digressing from the prescribed key temporarily to repeat
a P or S theme in some distantly related key. This happens in the Sonata in Bb. Digressions like
this have the effect of undermining the stability of the local key. Even more problematical for
the form as a whole, however, is Schubert's frequent practice of introducing a new theme in a
 36

distantly related key within what should be the transition, that is to say, between the home key
and the expected second key of the exposition. We’ll also hear an example of this in the Sonata
in Bb. In this case the diagram of sonata form would be altered to look like this:
 37

Intro Exposition Development Recapitulation Coda

⏐⏐: P trans S1 S2 K :⏐⏐ free P trans S1 S2 K P

I I → odd → V new keys I → odd → I I

key key

When the new theme at this point is very distinctive, it is bound to sound like the expected S
theme, though the key is wrong. And though the music finally comes around to the expected key
(as it always does), the result is a three-key exposition with different themes in each key. Unlike
the digressions within the prescribed key areas, these third keys with their own themes obscure
the motion from the home key to the closely related key that ends the exposition. As a result, the
sonata form is harder to hear in the old way, as a simple motion from I to V and back.

Schubert also played often on various kinds of ambiguity to create modulations to keys a third or
a half-step away. One technique was to reduce a chord to just one of its pitches and then to
reinterpret that pitch as part of a different chord. Thus, for example, a G major chord might be
reduced to its root, G, and the G then reharmonized as the third of an Eb chord. Reinterpreted
pitches that lead to modulations by thirds in this way are hard to follow, and they produce an
effect that is experienced as colorful rather than functional. Even more confusing is the
modulation by half-step that results when a dominant-seventh chord is reinterpreted
enharmonically as an augmented-sixth chord (e.g., C-E-G-Bb = C-E-G-A#) and resolved
downward to a new V7 a half-step lower (V7 of F becomes V7 of E). The result of using these
strange modulations is a weakening of the role played by the relationship of the tonic and
dominant keys in sonata form movements. As the functional relationship of V to I becomes less
important, attention shifts to the local harmonic events and the distinctive themes that are usually
associated with them.

The Large Forms after Beethoven and Schubert (continued)

Let’s return now to the ways in which the larger instrumental forms evolved in the Romantic
period. We might expect to find the Classical models continued with the range of harmony and
key relations expanded. This is indeed the case in a large segment of the repertory after
Schubert. Sonatas, chamber music, and symphonies by Mendelssohn, Schumann, Brahms,
Bruckner, Dvorak, Tchaikovsky, and others frequently stay close to the Classical precedents in
overall format and in the forms of the individual movements.
 38

But new things were happening, too, and most of them can be related back to Beethoven in one
way or another. In particular, the Beethoven Fifth and Sixth Symphonies became models for
several kinds of experiments. The Fifth inspired a variety of attempts to unify the three or four
movements of a work motivically. Its dramatic quality also prompted narrative interpretations.
This inclination to impose some sort of story line on the otherwise abstract emotional shape of a
work was reinforced by the more explicit example of the Sixth Symphony, with its movement
titles and its depiction of the brook, the birds, the storm, and the shepherd. In retrospect it seems
inevitable that later composers would see the possibility of combining recurring themes and an
extra-musical narrative.

The move to make the meaning of music more explicit than it had been in the Classical period
took several forms. One was the creation of concert overtures: one-movement works, normally
in sonata form, with titles that evoked specific images. Overtures that Beethoven had composed
to introduce theatrical plays and entertainments began to be played separately as concert pieces,
retaining their titles – Egmont, Coriolan, Leonore, and The Consecration of the House are the
best known. Younger composers began writing similar overtures without ever intending them as
anything other than concert pieces; they weren’t “overtures” to anything, but there was not yet
any other generic name for them. We’ll hear Mendelssohn’s Overture to A Midsummer Night’s
Dream of 1826. Berlioz also wrote several concert overtures. The evocative quality of these
pieces comes not only from the titles, but also from novel new approaches to orchestration and
the invention of themes. The young Romantics created special effects by scoring in unusual
ways. And they gave their themes greater character than was usual (or even advisable) in the
Classical models of sonata form. The opera composer Rossini was not much of a pioneer in the
treatment of the instrumental forms, but the orchestral effects in the overtures to his operas
(especially the one to William Tell) were widely copied. When interesting scoring is combined
with unusual thematic shapes, as is frequently the case in the concert overtures by Mendelssohn
and Berlioz, the work may evoke specific images, and in fact these works were often conceived
with a specific extra-musical story or scene in mind. This is the case in Mendelssohn’s Hebrides
Overture, where the different themes evoke the sounds of the sea that Mendelssohn had
experienced off the coast of Scotland. In his Overture to A Midsummer Night’s Dream, strikingly
different themes represent the worlds of fairies, aristocrats, and crude craftsmen in Shakespeare’s
play.

The Symphonie fantastique, completed in 1830, takes a step beyond the Pastoral Symphony and
the Mendelssohn overtures. In this highly influential work, Berlioz goes so far as to create his
own story and spell it out in a program which he distributed at his concerts. Musically he
extends his program across the five movements of a symphony, using a recurring theme, which
he calls an idée fixe, to unify the whole work. The possibility of creating this sort of unity
derives from Beethoven, who recalled themes from one movement to another in the Fifth and
Ninth Symphonies (and elsewhere). By identifying his recurring theme with a character and
altering the theme to fit the different situations in which the character appears, Berlioz creates a
much more theatrical – even cinematic – piece than Beethoven did. It was an interesting idea,
one that produced a certain kind of musical unity at the same time that it told a story, and it
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caught on quickly with other composers. Berlioz himself used it again immediately in his
symphony Harold in Italy, in which a solo viola playing an idée fixe represents a character from
a Byron poem who appears in different situations in the four movements. Liszt does something
similar in the three movements of his Faust Symphony, with different themes to represent the
characters of Goethe's play.

An extreme solution to the problem of achieving a theatrical narrative without sacrificing

musical unity was a new kind of piece that was developed by Liszt after 1850. This was a piece
in a single long movement that went beyond the programmatic concert overtures of Mendelssohn
and Berlioz in combining the basic outline of sonata form with changes of tempo and meter that
suggest the several movements of a traditional multi-movement work. Unifying the entire
movement are a few themes that are presented near the beginning and then recur in various
guises, like Berlioz's idée fixe, in the various sections of the movement. When works of this kind
were written for orchestra, they were called “symphonic poems” or “tone poems”. Liszt wrote
about a dozen of them, which served as the models for Richard Strauss and other late Romantic
composers.

Historically, these one-movement works might best be viewed as a hybrid genre, combining
elements of the traditional multi-movement sonata with procedures found in pieces called fantasy
by earlier composers. In fact, when Liszt applied this approach for the first time to a work for
piano – in the work we now call the Dante Sonata – he subtitled the piece Fantasia quasi Sonata
(just the reverse of the “Moonlight Sonata,” which Beethoven called Sonata quasi una fantasia).
Fantasies were normally one-movement works with no fixed structure, in which passages of an
improvisatory nature alternated with stable thematic sections of the sort that might occur in a
sonata. Sections could differ in tempo, meter, and key, and recall of themes from one section to
another was a common practice. Schubert had written several very fine fantasies, the most
famous of which, the Wanderer Fantasy, was a piece that Liszt played. In the Wanderer Fantasy
there are four sections, very much like the four movements of a sonata: first movement, slow
movement, scherzo, finale. But each of the sections is shorter than a full movement would be,
and the first and third are left open-ended. What might have attracted Liszt to this piece, in
addition to its difficulty, was its motivic unity, which results from the use of the same few
motives to generate the material of each section. Here one can speak already of thematic
transformation, the term usually associated with Liszt's own practice in his sonatas and
symphonic poems; this technique was brought to a high level of sophistication in the symphonic
poems of Richard Strauss at the end of the century.

Large Instrumental Forms: Summary

Some important aesthetic issues and compositional choices arose as a result of the developments
described above: How important was it for a work to be unified by thematic recall or
transformation? Should a work be heard in strictly musical terms, or should its message be made
more explicit by relating it to some extra-musical source? Beethoven’s instrumental music
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achieved enormous prestige with musicians, critics, and academics in the 19th century and was
obviously rich with musical and expressive implications that could be pursued in various ways.
Composers with different agendas could (and did) claim to be his heirs. Those who preferred to
link their works to extra-musical sources, with an explicit program or just a suggestive title,
could point to the Pastoral, Eroica, and Ninth Symphonies as precedents, and they were
encouraged by the dramatic nature of Beethoven’s music to read programs into it whether there
was a title or not. Other composers liked the ‘organic’ musical results produced by relationships
among the themes of a work, but were not inclined to associate them with any sort of
autobiographical narrative. They could point to highly organized works like the Fifth Symphony
that had no programmatic titles. And there were conservative composers who resisted the
Romantic tendency to self-revelation and adopted a more abstract ideal of musical beauty, rooted
in Classicism; they could cite the large body of successful works by Haydn, Mozart, and
Beethoven that made their expressive points without titles or suggestive thematic connections
among movements.

In writing music history we may be tempted to assign 19th-century composers to one or

another of these camps. And indeed there was a well-publicized aesthetic debate after 1850
between the conservative proponents of so-called “absolute music”, who championed the
non-programmatic, Classically structured works of Brahms, and the proponents of the self-
styled “music of the future”, who preferred the programmatic, new-fangled works of Berlioz
and Liszt (and Wagner). But of course the practice of most composers did not conform
simply to one ideal or the other. Composers who provided programs for their works
sometimes withdrew them when critics implied that the music could not stand on its own or
when audiences identified the message too narrowly with the program; this happened to
Berlioz with the Symphonie fantastique and later to Mahler as well. In other cases composers
were inspired by an extra-musical source and recalled themes suggestively from one
movement to another, but withheld details of the intended narrative. Many well-known
symphonies and chamber works by Mendelssohn, Schumann, Dvorak, and Tchaikovsky
suggest narrative meanings in this way without spelling them out. What are we to conclude
when the same composer adopts one approach (thematic recall, suggestive title) in some
works and a different approach (no recall or title) in others? This was in fact the practice of
most Romantic composers – even Liszt, who wrote a single-movement sonata using the
principles of thematic transformation and called it simply Sonata in B Minor. Apparently
organicism and expressive content were virtues acknowledged by everyone, while thematic
transformation, characteristic material, and suggestive titles were options, not requirements.

Small Forms

While many important 19th-century composers after Beethoven continued to imitate, expand, or
transform the principal Classical models – symphony, sonata, chamber music – there were some
whose best work was done in smaller genres. The Classical masters had written some dances for
piano and songs, aimed at the emerging market of middle-class families with pianos in the home.
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But such pieces were clearly a secondary occupation. In the 19th century the market increased
dramatically, and the demand for repertory that was expressive but not too hard was met by an
outpouring of highly original new works in the small forms. The market and the new Romantic
style converged conveniently. The same emphasis on lyrical melody and colorful harmony that
was subversive to big movements in sonata form found a happy home in the shorter forms,
where a beautiful tune or an exotic harmony could be made the whole point of the piece.

Schubert and Schumann were the first great composers to give song a significant place in their
work (see the following section). And nearly all the early Romantic pianist-composers wrote
large numbers of short piano pieces of all types. In the 1830s, Chopin, Liszt, and Schumann
devoted themselves almost exclusively to this new genre. Some of the pieces they wrote were
very difficult, intended to show off their own skills as performers. But much of this new
repertory was accessible to amateurs. The pieces went by a variety of titles, some derived from
dance prototypes and some newly invented. We’ll hear pieces called Impromptu, Nocturne, and
Intermezzo. And composers discovered that they could create larger works out of miniatures by
stringing them together in cycles; Schubert did this with some of his songs (Die schöne
Müllerin), and Schumann wrote impressive cycles of both songs (Frauenliebe und –leben) and
piano pieces (Papillons).

Song

When composers set a German poem to music, they called the result a Lied (plural = Lieder).
Later in the 19th century, similar settings of French poems were called mélodies. The English
equivalent is simply “song” (or sometimes “art-song”, to distinguish classical from popular
pieces). Although the instrumental accompaniment might involve any combination of
instruments, even a full orchestra, by far the most common setting was for voice and piano. In
Schubert’s day, Lieder were normally intended for performance in homes rather than in concert
halls. Occasional concert performances did occur, however, especially of larger, dramatic Lieder
like Der Erlkönig.

Because songs were short, several of them were often published together under the same opus
number. The songs making up such a collection could be completely independent of each other.
In some cases, however, there was a unifying thread; all the poems might be by the same poet,
for example, or about the same thing. The thread might even be a narrative, in which the
sequence of poems told a story. A group of songs unified by such a narrative thread came to be
called a “song-cycle” (usually Liederkreis in German). The extent to which song-cycles were
unified musically as well – through thematic recall or key scheme – varied widely. The best-
known cycles are those of Schubert and Schumann. Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin includes
20 songs that tell a story but are not linked musically in any obvious way. The 8 songs of
Schumann’s Frauenliebe und –leben also tell a story, and the cycle is unified both thematically
and tonally.
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The Lied as a genre presents several interesting aesthetic questions. Unlike instrumental genres
such as sonatas or symphonies, songs are hybrids. They consist of a poem written by one person
and music written by another, and both the poem and the music have their own structure. The
poem has a meter and a rhyme scheme and is organized in lines of a certain length; the lines
themselves are then usually grouped into stanzas or strophes, in which the same pattern of lines
is replicated several times. This is what the composer starts with.

A poem in several stanzas can be set to music in a variety of ways. The simplest way is to write
music for the first stanza and then simply to sing each successive stanza to the same music. We
call this kind of setting strophic; it is the way most folksongs, hymns, and Christmas carols are
structured. At the other extreme, a composer may choose to use different music for each stanza.
We call this kind of setting through-composed. In a strophic song, there are generally few
repetitions of words, and the shape of the poem itself emerges clearly; poets liked that. In a
through-composed song, the music has its own larger shape that tends to obscure the shape of the
poem, and composers repeated words freely to fill out the musical shape; in both these respects
the through-composed song is set like an operatic aria.

In Mozart’s time a debate had already started about the relative virtues of strophic and through-
composed settings. There was a growing interest in folksongs and their texts among literary
people, and some prominent poets, including the great Goethe, wrote poems in imitation of
folksong poetry. Goethe’s Das Veilchen and Heidenröslein are both folksong parodies. Goethe
was the most prestigious advocate of strophic settings of this kind of poetry. Schubert wrote lots
of strophic songs, and his setting of Heidenröslein is close in style to folksong. Mozart’s earlier
setting of Das Veilchen, on the other hand, is through-composed, like an aria from Don Giovanni.
Schubert also wrote many through-composed songs; Der Erlkönig and Gretchen am Spinnrade
are perhaps the most famous. But the shape of most of his songs falls somewhere between these
two extremes: some stanzas are sung to the same music and some are different. Thus, for
example, a poem in three stanzas might have the same music for the first two, with the last set
differently (AAB); this is the approach Schubert uses in Die Forelle and in song 18 of Die
schöne Müllerin. Or the same music might be used for the first and last stanzas, with the middle
one set differently (ABA), as in song 19 of Die schöne Müllerin. There is no generally agreed
upon term for this kind of setting; we’ll refer to it as varied strophic.

Beyond the question of how closely the musical setting follows the structure of the poem is the
more general question of what is expressed by the poem and to what extent the music
communicates the same message. Here we enter the problematical (but interesting) area of
interpretation. The composer begins by reading the poem. A poem that is effective in poetic
terms may be read in more than one way. Because music has its own internal relationships that
communicate a kind of narrative, building and releasing tension, any musical setting of a poem
necessarily communicates a particular expressive reading, to the exclusion of other possible
readings. Frequently, when we listen to musical pieces with texts – like songs, operas,
Beethoven’s Ninth, etc. – we may conclude that the composer has imposed a reading of the text
that is different from our own. In most cases, if the piece is effective in musical terms, the
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composer’s reading will prevail – the poem is subsumed into the musical piece, and the voice we
hear is that of the composer.

Quite a lot has been written in recent years about the issue of ‘voice’. When we hear a
performance of a Schubert song, we are hearing at least three things: the ‘voice’ of the poet
(Goethe, for example) in the words, the ‘voice’ of the composer (Schubert) in the music, and the
‘voice’ of the performers (singer and pianist). Who is it that is communicating with us? [The
problem is even more complicated in a dramatic song like Der Erlkönig, in which several
characters speak/sing, or in an opera, where the singer is a specific character in a drama.]

The Late Romantic Character Piece

We saw earlier that many of the important composers in the second half of the 19th century
continued to write symphonies, sonatas, and chamber music in the Classical forms. They filled
the older forms with the rich harmonic and thematic language and the new orchestral sonorities
of their own time; this is how a Brahms or Tchaikovsky symphony can use the same forms as
one by Beethoven, and last about as long, and yet sound quite different.

There was also continuity in the new, small forms that the Romantic composers themselves had
developed. The songs and the character pieces for piano that were the most distinctive
achievements of Schubert, Schumann, Chopin, Liszt, and Mendelssohn in the 1820s and 1830s
remained popular genres for the rest of the century. Brahms, Hugo Wolf, Mahler, Strauss, and
Fauré wrote fine songs. And there was a profusion of piano pieces of all kinds.

One unexpected development in late19th-century music was the emergence of national styles.
The long-standing dominance of Italian, French, and German composers began to be challenged
by composers from parts of Europe (and the USA) that had weaker classical traditions.
Especially in Russia, young composers such as Mussorgsky, Rimsky-Korsakov, and Borodin
sought to give their works a distinctive national flavor by a variety of means. Operas and
programmatic music adopted plots taken from national myths or history, for example. And the
musical language itself was inflected by rhythms or modal melodic turns borrowed from local
folk traditions. This sort of thing was not entirely new; it had precedents in the polonaises and
mazurkas of Chopin and in the Hungarian rhapsodies of Liszt (to take two well-known
examples).

Similar tendencies were at work in other Eastern European lands, Scandinavia, and Spain. It is
common now to associate composers such as Dvorak and Smetana (Czechoslovakia), Enesco
(Romania), Bartok and Kodaly (Hungary), Grieg (Norway), Sibelius (Finland), Nielsen
(Denmark), Albeniz, Granados, and de Falla (Spain) with emerging nationalism, though the
extent to which local folk idioms made their way into the music itself differed a lot from one
composer to another. And in this country, Ives and Copland, though different in important ways
 44

from the Europeans, might also be viewed as nationalists because of their incorporation of
popular music elements native to this country.

Many of these composers were trained in the mainstream Romantic style and wrote very
traditional music that was merely inflected by folkish elements. This is the way we think of
Dvorak, Smetana, Grieg, and Nielsen, for example. Others tried to build new styles on the
characteristics of folk music; Bartok and the Spaniards are perhaps the best examples. And the
modal scales used in folk music play an important role in movements like “Impressionism” that
are not really nationalist at all.