Reader 2019-2020 Analysis of Musical Forms KCB - Online Version

Vormanalyse I
Analysis of musical forms I

2019-2020
READER
Docent: Philippe Lamouris

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On Variations
by Hans Keller
Variation is the basic principle of musical composi- repeated over and over again with the greatest
tion-or perhaps, nowadays, one should say 'of strictness and indeed 'obstinacy': Brahms makes
thematic composition', for where there is no themeabsolutely sure that you always hear it, all the more
or motive, there is no variation. so since the superstructure comes to reach consider-
It might be objected, of course, that repetition isable complexity.
still more basic, and so indeed it is; but it seems more The reason why Brahms's ground is more difficult
realistic to say that repetition is itself the most basicthan Bach's (even though Bach remains, of course,
form of variation: where something is meaningfully the more complex composer) is that while the Bach
repeated, it adds something to that which it repeats, theme is a regular 8-bar structure, Brahms's ground,
whence it is no longer a mere repetition. However deriving as it does from the Corale St Antonii (which,
literal, a repetition always varies its model, if onlyat the time of writing, is not supposed to be by
through its context. There so remains but one kindHaydn, though Brahms's own title is 'Variations on
of pure repetition, and that is bad repetition. a Theme of Haydn'), is an intriguing 5-bar theme.
Between repetition and the more developed kind Why should a 5-bar structure be more difficult than
of variation there is a field where themes tend to a 4- or 8-bar one? For the same reason that 5/4
have the best of both worlds the field of the so- time is more difficult than common time. But
called ostinato, which is the 'obstinately' repeated Brahms makes life as easy as possible in difficult
theme as it appears in the chaconne and passacaglia, circumstances: whereas Bach writes four plus four
with more or less complex counterpoints and bars, Brahms confines himself to five and does not
variations on top or at the bottom of it. The text-write five plus five, as he easily could have done on
book differentiation between chaconne and passa- the basis of the St Anthony Chorale. Other things
caglia is that in the former, the theme remains a being equal, shorter themes are, of course, easier to
ground bass. There is historical substance to this understand than longer ones.
definition; nevertheless, I would not take it too far. The Brahms variations are the first orchestral
Not all composers read text-books, and those who work in variation form alone. Many other variation
do, don't always like them. To take one of many works were to follow. Now why, we may ask, this
instances, the chaconne ('Chacony') from Britten's enthusiasm, on the part of post-classical composers,
second String Quartet emphatically refuses to for large-scale variation form-a genre which the
conform. classics, for all their much-renowned universality,
The principle of simultaneous repetition and never seem to have discovered ? The simple answer,
variation, in any case, remains the same in both which admittedly needs a great deal of explanation,
these ostinato forms which tend to build up by way is that classically speaking, the genre did not exist:
of cumulative tension, with the stressedly bare neither Bach, nor indeed Haydn, Mozart, or Beet-
theme, often altogether unharmonized, at the hoven would have recognized the Brahms, the
beginning. This is what happens, say, in Bach's Franck 'Symphonic Variations', the 'Enigma', or
C minor 'Passacaglia', whose theme is character- Schoenberg's Op 31 as variations.
istically economical: it does not only constitute a As pre-classical polyphony (several simultaneous
model for repetition, but itself consists of repetitions melodies) was replaced by classical homophony (tune)
of a single rhythmic motive-an upbeat and a main and accompaniment), the typical pre-classical varia-
beat. The afore-mentioned Britten 'Chacony', too, tion forms, passacaglia and chaconne, grew into the
starts unharmonized, as does the 'Passacaglia' from 'themes and variations' as we know them or like to
Peter Grimes. Bach's famous violin 'Chaconne', on think of them: strictly sectional variations in which
the other hand, immediately introduces a harmon- the theme, the melody itself may well undergo some
ized theme; in fact, the harmony is even more drastic transformations, but which adhere, all the
thematic than the tune itself. And Brahms, in the more faithfully, to the harmonic scheme of the
(not so called) passacaglia finale of the (so-called) theme, both totally (key) and, above all, locally
'Haydn Variations', develops a ground bass from (progressions, modulations, rhythmic structure).
the theme, which, at this final stage in the composi- Now, there is a limit to the extent to which you can
tion, he cannot introduce as a single line; at the pile up variations with the aim of achieving a single,
same time, he has to throw the unexpected 'ground' continuous structure, if you cannot allow yourself
into relief, so he emphasizes it by way of an obtru- to abandon this principle of fairly strict harmonic
sive two-bar imitation in the violas. Here, as later repetition: the possibilities of variety remain pretty
in his Fourth Symphony, the cumulative form of the narrowly circumscribed, ie confined to one dimen-
passacaglia is used, quite naturally, as eventual sion, the change of tune. Lest anybody should
climax. The ground bass at the end of the 'Haydn impatiently call out 'Goldberg Variations!' at this
Variations' is a little more difficult to grasp than point, I must remind him that this gigantic set of
that of the Bach 'Passacaglia' and, accordingly, it is variations was never intended as one continuous
109
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33
piece (even though, under master hands, it comes themes, and the widely-arched form necessitates,
very close to one), but as a collection of variations not only a finale at the end, but also an introduction
from which suitable ones might be chosen according at the beginning-the very features which were
to the performer's mood (the earliest precedent for to characterize Schoenberg's own orchestral
a whole class of contemporary 'indeterminate' 'Variations'.
pieces, in fact). At this point, however, let us pause to remember
With the advent of homophony came sonata that Beethoven's genius had taken great care to
form, and with the advent of sonata form came confuse history: he was really the man who had
development which, essentially, is large-scale done it all before, achieving as he did this kind of
modulation. At this stage, 'variation' and 'sonata' single-movement structure, albeit with the help of a
form became opposite approaches: sonata form diversifying chorus, in his 'Choral Fantasy'. But so
developed contrasting themes, whereas variations- far in advance of even the immediate future was he
pace certain double variations by Haydn and with this music that far from leading to further
Beethoven-tended to re-state single themes in developments in a totally uncharted field, it re-
different guises. mained misunderstood and so neglected. The very
As sonata form grew, its central achievement, fact, however, that neither he nor anybody else
which was large-scale integration by way of develop- would have dreamt of calling the Fantasy 'Sym-
ment, assumed ever greater significance; sooner or phonic Variations' clinches our point: at that stage,
later it was bound to penetrate other forms, includ- the form had not come anywhere near a compre-
ing, eventually, the 'opposite' form of variations, hensible, recognizable existence. If you wanted to
which it could thus turn into a symphonic form of steal forms from the future, you had to call them,
wide, self-containing proportions. We find the first rather apologetically, 'Fantasies'.
inkling of this departure in the finale of Beethoven's The Elgarian masterpiece consolidates; it does
Eroica Symphony, a work that is, quite generally, a not really break new ground. In point of fact, as the
presage of symphonic things to come. Schoenberg 'Variations' were to show, there was not
much new ground to break: atonality apart, they
themselves do not, formally, go far beyond what
Beethoven, Brahms, and Franck had explored in the
In Brahms's Orchestral Variations (as we might
first place. Nevertheless, by all kinds of subtle
call them if the wrong attribution of their theme to
developmental devices, Elgar establishes extreme
Haydn worries us too much), old and new variation
and, at times, unprecedented contrasts between the
forms meet, for the first time, in what we might
characters of his variations, almost turning some of
describe as head-on collusion: a new symphonic
them into new themes in the process, with the under-
form is in the making. The variations are still all
lying 'Elgar' theme as unifying element. 'Dedicated
in the same key, or rather the same tonality (B flat
major or minor), and the rhythmic structure of the to my friends pictured within'-the inscription has
always been quoted to describe the basic inspiration
theme is retained to an astonishing degree, but the
local harmonic texture is varied to an extent that behind the work, but the composing imagination
works the other way round: the creative need to
enables the tune to surge ever further ahead until,
produce symphonic variations by way of contrasting
paradoxically, it 'develops' without modulation:
musical characters produced the incidental inspira-
since the basic framework of the theme is incessantly
recalled, if only to remind us how far we are ventur-
tion, the extra-musical idea of contrasting human
characters.
ing away from it, smaller-scale changes of harmony,
together with drastic changes of melody, are enough
to produce the impression of development-of
increasing harmonic tension and instability. The
foundation-stones for truly symphonic variations The Schoenberg 'Variations' themselves, by now
are laid: a wide ternary arch, proceeding, like sonata a recognized classic of our time, are the composer's
form, from stability over instability back to stability, first orchestral essay in 12-note technique. They
is clearly established. Accordingly, what used to be work without key, then, and the question arises:
the simple, final recurrence of the theme, the coda how do we here stand so far as the continued history
variation in fact, assumes the proportions of a grand, of developmental variation technique is concerned,
varied recapitulation-the above-mentioned passa- if development means modulation ? Where there is
caglia finale, which culminates in a final, heroic no key, there is no modulation, so what does
statement of the theme. It is a two-sided triumph. Schoenberg do ?
'We are back!' is not the only cry of joy; underneath, He takes his cue from Brahms who, as we have
there is more extended and lasting satisfaction: 'We seen, gets in a great deal of development without
got away far enough to be able to come back like modulation. The theme and its texture are sub-
this.' jected to the most far-reaching metamorphoses, nor
But the real revolution, hitherto unrecognized as indeed is its rhythmic structure left intact. In
such, came with Franck's 'Symphonic Variations', addition, the motive B-A-C-H (Bb-A-C-B in Ger-
whose very title shows that the composer himself, man) is used in the introduction and the finale in
at any rate, was fully aware of the nature of his order to contribute to the symphonic development.
achievement-the interpenetration of symphonic Schoenberg described his entire composing method
and variation technique. The assimilation of as 'developing variation', implying that he always
sonata procedures extends, beyond the use of repeated less than expected, while yet remaining
development, to the integration of two contrastingmore thematic than was obvious on the surface.
110
34
So
So successful
successfulwas
washe,
he,
in in
fact,
fact,
in replacing
in replacing modula- To
modula- To compose
compose is is
to to
vary,
vary,
and and
'variations'
'variations'
are only
area only a
tions
tions by
bydrastic
drasticchanges
changes of of
texture
texture
and and structure, special
structure, specialkind
kind ofofvarying,
varying,
too complex
too complex
to be called
to be called
that his orchestral 'Variations' came to contain repetitions, too theme-conscious to be simply
more development than does many an official called development. But all music repeats, and all
sonata form. music develops. Variations themselves show the
We have come full circle, or rather, full spiral. composing process under a magnifying glass.
At the outset, we said that repetition was really The original version of this essay appeared in the programme-
book of a 1962 Promenade Concert devoted to works in
variation; at the end, we say: so is development. variation form.
A Piano Contest by Arthur Jacobs
'National Piano Playing Competition-National that they are inimical to the artistic spirit and that,
Final', said the tickets, suggesting the kind of great whoever may be declared to win, others may do just
public spectacle which, in Moscow, would have as well in their actual careers.
meant queues along the streets and day-long tele- The awards themselves led me to add my own
vision coverage. But this turned out to be a contest doubt to Mr Keller's. The first prize was awarded
only for under-18s, attracting a sparse audience to Nichola Gebolys, aged 13; the second and third
(doubtless largely of competitors' relatives and to Frank Wibaut and Stephanie Bamford, both 17;
friends) to the Wigmore Hall on the afternoon of the fourth to Rosalind Bevan, 16. The high promise
Dec 16. of all of them is not in doubt, nor the exceptional
It was organized by the Society for the Piano. gifts of the winner. But I do not see how it can be
Inquiry elicited the frank admission that the said that a good 13-year-old can be said to have
society's existence is notional: it is a creation of the shown more achievement than a good 16- or 17-
British piano-manufacturing trade. There are year-old playing a more difficult selection of pieces.
apparently no members, but there is an imposing It may be hypothetically claimed that the 13-year-
list of vice-presidents (including Bliss, Britten, andold will be better than the others when she has
Walton) and a distinguished advisory council reached their age; but the converse hypothesis could
(including Louis Kentner and Gerald Moore). Sir be invoked, involving the jury in the impossible task
Malcolm Sargent is president of this singular body.of imagining how the performers at present 16 or 17
Its work, apart from the organization of this contest would have played at 13.
at two-yearly intervals, is unknown to me-but, It seems to me that there should have been two
said the programme, 'one of the proudest achieve- classes in this competition, corresponding to the
ments of the Society for the Piano was the early different grades of pieces permitted. I do not pre-
encouragement it was able to give to John Ogdon'. sume to criticize the jury's order of preference
Surely the presentation of a British piano to Ogdon within the older age-group. I never cease to marvel
took place only after he had won the rather greaterat the way in which (though we professional critics
encouragement of the Tchaikovsky prize at habitually disagree even on whether a leading
Moscow? virtuoso understands Beethoven or not) adjudicators
Anyway, here were eleven young pianists at various competitions bring forth their firm
assembled to compete, with a Broadwood boudoirverdicts, awarding trophies on the confident alloca-
grand for first prize and a Chappell upright plus tion of 97 points against 96. Perhaps this is why
?100 for second. A well-known musician in the hall critics are so seldom chosen as adjudicators.
thought the order of the prizes could more justly
have been reversed. A young professional, he re-
marked, needs a full-sized concert grand to practise
on; a boudoir is neither an effective substitute for
this nor a useful everyday piano for cramped living.
There were money awards for third and fourth The winner of the 1962 Royal Amateur Orchestral Society's
Young Composer's Award was Patric Standford for his Symphonic
prizes. The judges were Ruth Railton, Phyllis Sellick, Vivace Movement. The judges were Freda Swain, Franz
Martin Cooper, Sidney Harrison, Hans Keller, Reizenstein, Frank Wright, Christopher Wiltshire (last season's
Louis Kentner, and (chairman) Gerald Moore. A winner) and Arthur Davison.
Danemann concert grand stood on the platform- The 1963 Royal Amateur Orchestral Society's Silver Medal
Award was won by Marie Hayward, a 24-year-old soprano
but hardly proved the equal of the habitual Steinway. studying at the Royal Academy of Music under Roy Henderson.
Nine competitors, aged 15-17, played a choice of Miss Hayward has been invited to appear as a soloist at the
stipulated items by Beethoven and Chopin. Two Society's concert at the RCM in June.
competitors, aged 13, had been allotted items To mark the centenary of the birth of Richard Strauss, Boosey
technically less demanding, and played a Haydn & Hawkes and Fiirstner are to issue a complete edition of his
sonata movement and Debussy's Arabesque No 1. songs, edited by Franz Trenner and Walter Seifert. This edition
will contain, in three volumes, songs for voice and piano, songs
Four competitors were then recalled and asked to for voice and orchestra, songs orchestrated by the composer,
play prepared pieces of their own choice. Then, and unpublished songs where manuscripts are available.
before the results were announced, Hans Keller The publishers and editors appeal to owners of song manu-
scripts to send photo copies as soon as possible to The Managing
made a personal statement: he was, he said, 'consti- Director, Boosey & Hawkes, 295 Regent Street, London Wl.
tutionally a traitor' to competitions on the ground All owners will be reimbursed.
11
35
FEBR ARY IO, 189I.
MAJOR CRAWFORD
IN THE CHAIR.
THE RONDO FORM, AS IT IS FO ND IN THE

WORKS OF MO ART AND BEETHOVEN.
BY C. F. ABDY WILLIAMS, M.A., Mus. BAC., O ON.
SOME months ago, during a conversation on Musical Form,

the remark was made to me that the Rondo had been rather
scantily treated in theoretical works; and that the portion
of that great book on musical composition by Marx, which
deals with this form, had never been translated into English.
My friend went on to say, Why should you not write a
paper on the Rondo (taking Marx as your basis), and offer
it to the Musical Association? Acting on this suggestion
I proceeded to write the paper, which with much diffidence
I now offer you; and if it should give rise to a discussion in
which further light may be thrown on the subject, I shall feel
that it has not been written in vain.
The history of the gradual development of musical form
out of the first gropings in the dark by our forefathers, has
received an exhaustive treatment at the hands of Dr. Hubert
Parry, in that article in Sir George Grove's Dictionary with
which every musician is familiar. I have therefore chosen
to confine my attention to the details of the Rondo, in its
fully developed condition as we find it in the works of
Mozart and Beethoven.
I have not taken Marx's book as the basis of my obser-
vations, for reasons which will appear later: I have merely
endeavoured to trace out some of the varieties of treat-
ment shown by these two composers in those movements
which are expressly called Rondos, or which come into the
same category: varieties which are due to the unerring
instinct of the composers, in their sense of the balance and
proportion of the keys and material suitable to each
particular case.
No two Rondos are alike in all their details: it would be
impossible to find a scheme or plan which would exactly fit
any two of these movements. This is as it should be; we
36
96 The Rondo Form.
do not require mathematical precision in the construction

of works of art; and yet the general idea of the Rondo-
that is, the constant return of the principal subject in the
principal key, surrounded by a limited number of related
keys-would seem to necessitate a similarity of form in
all the movements. I shall endeavour to show how these
great masters have given infinite variety to this apparently
rigid form by their treatment of its details.
The varieties of formal detail are rather more numerous
in the Rondos of Mozart than in those df Beethoven.
The latter seems to have found the form ready made, and
to have merely used it as a framework on which to build
his marvellous ideas; but he uses a wider range of keys
than his predecessor; and by this and other well-known
means, heightens the aesthetic interest.
The most usual arrangement of material and keys in the
Rondo is, roughly, as follows: First there is a distinct
subject in the principal key, ending with a full close in that
key. Then there is a passage of modulation, leading to a
second subject in the key of the dominant. This may, or
may not, be followed by a concluding subject called by
German writers Schluss-satz. For convenience, I group
all the material which is in the principal key under one head,
and call it No. I., and all that which is in the dominant
(including the so-called Schluss-satz) under a second head,
and call it No. II. Thus far we have a first subject in the
tonic, a second in the dominant, and a modulating passage
between the two.
I. mod., II.
C, G.
In a Sonata movement there would
the whole up to this point would b
In the Rondo, instead of its coming to a close at this
point, there is another passage of modulation leading back
to the principal key, and bringing in the first subject again.
This usually ends in a full close, and there may or may not
be a double-bar at this place.
The scheme is now I. mod., II. mod., I.
C, G, C.
One might say that almost t
point, between the kind of
Sonata movement, is that th
its first part, while the Rondo
of it. The first subject of a R
compact and complete in its
this is by no means invariabl
When a Rondo is in a minor
usually be in the relative ma
Next, one of two things ha
37
The Rondo Form. 97
appears in a new key or a thematic development of the

material already at hand takes place, just as it would in a
Sonata movement. I shall, for the purposes of this paper,
consider the new subject, or its representative, the thematic
development, as subject No. III.
I. mod., II. mod., I., III.
C, G, C, a.
This portion of the movemen
to the principal key, again i
followed by the second subject,
then there is a Coda, and the m
I,'i.,I., III., I., II., C
C, G, C, a, C, C.
Thus we have the Sonata form in every respect, exc
the particulars I have mentioned. Even in the Sonata
development section is sometimes discarded in favou
third subject in a new key. For instance, the Fin
Beethoven's first Sonata, in F minor, has this form; but
of course, very rare. This seems as near a general pl
can be made of the Rondos of Mozart and Beethoven. In the
treatment of the different parts of the movements, a
wonderful variety is shown by both our composers.
I am going to trespass on your patience for a short time
while I endeavour to describe some few of these varieties of
detail. To begin with the first subject. In the Rondo, just
as in the Sonata, this has many forms. A common one in a
short Rondo, is that of what Marx calls a period, of from
eight to twenty bars, ending with a full close in the principal
key. Examples of this form of first subject may be found in
the works both of Mozart and Beethoven.
Or it may consist of two or more periods. Plenty of
examples of this are to be found. I will mention three; and
as I shall have occasion to refer to various movements,
very rapidly one after the other, perhaps the simplest way of
mentioning them will be to play the first few notes of each,
in order to recall them to memory quickly.
In Mozart's Rondo in A minor, which commences thus-
Andantec
E :- , :1 , i- J1 4I -E
the first subject has the following form: There is
38
98 The Rondo Form.
eight bars, ending with a full close on the keynote; then a

period in the key of C of thirteen bars, ending with a full
close in C; then a bar of modulation leading to another
period of eight bars in A minor. This closes the first
subject, and the second follows in F, without a modulating
passage.
My second example is the Rondo of a Trio in B flat, by
Mozart; it begins thus-
Tempo di Minuetto. n '
,L , ,. L t
iw . p l- I ar-ir ....
First, there is a period of eight

repeated. Then one of twelve
repetition of the first eight-bar
bars are also repeated.
My third example is the last m
Sonata in E (Op. go), The firs
precisely similar in constructio
amples. It consists of three period
practically identical, and in the
one goes into the key of B.
Beethoven was fond of extendi
Rondos by great repetition. For
Sonata in G (Op. 3I) contains a
two phrases of four bars each, w
closes and different accompanime
two bars in length. The Rondo
shows this feature in a still hig
contains only one four-bar phrase
tion and extended closes and ca
to the length of sixty-one bars.
In Concertos the first subject,
are much extended by repetiti
what the piano had said, or
minor Concerto, the first subje
material in D minor-is extended
one bars. Beethoven, in the Fin
Quartet in E minor (Op. 59, No.
ffty-five bars long. He does no
key, but has seven bars in C ma
close in E minor, and the whol
the first fifty-five bars the ma
39
The Rondo Forn. 99
times, and four times again at the repetition of the first

subject. Perhaps the reason there is so much of C major
about the first subject in a movement nominally in E, is that
Beethoven wished to write his first subject in the major mode;
but having already used the tonic major so largely in the two
preceding movements, this key would not strike the hearers
with sufficient freshness, and he, therefore, chose another
related key.
Before quitting the consideration of the first subject, I
should wish to point out that this subject always ends with
a full close in the principal key. I have only noticed one
case in which it does not, which I shall mention later on as
one of the deviations from the usual plan.
We now come to the modulating passage, which, as in the
Sonata, exhibits several varieties of construction. Some-
times it consists of what looks as if it were going to be a
new subject, with regular periods, but which eventually
modulates to the key of the second subject; or it consists
of merely transitory material; or it may be developed out of
the first subject; and, lastly, it may even anticipate the
second.
The last case is very rare; but a good example is in the
Finale of Beethoven's string Quartet in F (Op. 18, No. i). In
this case, the chief motive of the second subject is anticipated
on the extended close of seven bars, which precedes the real
entry of the second subject, thus making it appear to enter
in G instead of C.
Sometimes all, or nearly all, connecting passages are
omitted, and double-bars divide the various subjects. The
movement then takes a form very similar to that of a conjunc-
tion of two or more of what Marx calls Lied movements, as in
the Minuet and Trio form; but in this case there is always an
important Coda after the final repetition of the first subject.
Examples are Mozart's Rondo alla Turca and Beethoven's
Rondo a Capriccioso (Op. I29). In the Rondo of the
Waldstein Sonata, the connecting passage does not modu-
late, but begins and ends in C. The second subject then bursts
in without warning in A minor-and yet perhaps one should not
say entirely without warning, for although there is no
modulation, yet the triplets of the second subject are, as it
were, prepared for by those of the connecting passage.
The connecting passage is sometimes omitted in this place,
and not in others. Sometimes it merely consists of a single
bar. When this is the case there is usually a long passage
of modulation after the second subject; but no general rule
can be established. In Mozart's Rondo in A minor, the
second subject enters in F without any connecting passage.
It is about thirty bars long, corresponding in this respect
with the first subject, and it is followed by twenty bars of
40
too The Rondo Form.
modulation, leading back to the re-entry of the first subject.

The Finale of Beethoven's Sonata in G (Op. 79) has one bar
of connection, and the first subject is divided from the
second by double-bars. There is also in this case a longish
connecting passage, between what one may consider the end
of the second and the re-entry of the first subject.
We now come to the second subject. This often partakes
of all the features of the second subject in a Sonata move-
ment. It is usually, but not always in the key of the
dominant or, when the movement is minor, it is in the
relative major. Mozart usually follows this rule. He, how-
ever, places it in other keys when the first subject is long,
and has any considerable portion in the key of the dominant.
The dominant is then, as it were, used up, and would not be
suitable for the second subject on that account. In the little
Rondo in F-
the key of C is largely used in No. I., and therefore

minor is used for No. II., as follows-
3
The A minor Rondo gives a parallel case for the minor mode.
We should expect the second subject to be in C, but it is
in F, for C has been used for more than one-third of the first
subject.
I have said that the second subject may have two distinct
sub-divisions, the latter of which is called in Germany
Schluss-satz, and consists of entirely new and distinct
material; cases both with and without this sub-division are
so numerous that it is hardly necessary to quote any.
Subject No. II. is often not so decided in its tonality as
No. I., and has transitory modulations. It, however, ends
with a full close in its own principal key, and then there is
a modulation back to the tonic for the re-entry of the first
subject. The full close at the end of the second subject is
almost invariable with Mozart. One of the few cases where it
41
The Rondo Form. 101
is omitted, and a deceptive cadence ta

Sonata in A minor, the Finale of whic
Presto.
!fJ.
- f4 '
y 1, r - I I
i! L
A. - ,
Beethoven seems indifferent as to the full close in this

place, and either introduces it or allows the end of No. II.
to flow on naturally without a break back to No. I. In
his earlier works he always places his second subject
in the key of the dominant, but later has a strong liking for
the relative minor. Exceptions to both these keys occur.
In the Rondo in A major without opus number which com-
mences thus-
l. e Alltgretto. .
the second subject is in C-
t . 1 v r &c.
-p.e &C.
-it comes to a full close in that key, and then there is a

passage in A minor leading back to A major for the re-entry
of No. I. In the Rondo of Op. 49, No. i, the first subject
is in G major and the second in G minor and B flat.
In Mozart's D minor Concerto, the second subject of the
Rondo has three sub-divisions. It commences with one
in F minor and this is followed by two in F major.
I may here mention two other cases where the second
subject has three sub-divisions : that of Beethoven's
Op. 13, and in the Finale of the eighth Symphony, No. II.
8 Vol. 17
42
102 The Rondo Form.
may be considered to be in three sub-d

which is in A flat, the last two in C, O
subject exist. It is unnecessary to de
detail.
Often with both our composers, No. II. has, instead of a
concluding sub-division, a return to part of No. I. in a
foreign key before the regular return; and in many cases the
connecting passage is made up of motives from No. I. The
Finales of Mozart's Trio in E flat, for violin, viola, and piano,
and Beethoven's Sonata in B flat (Op. 22), are some amongst
many instances of this kind of treatment. In several cases
I have noticed that No. II. consists principally, if not
wholly, of motives from No. I. This occurs in Mozart's
Rondo in D-
Allegro.
19 . -
IfA z -
p
iltA -I
/ r' r r r r r r
where the second subject is-
J - ' I -- I I
fr -c s p PI
4 . jjjjmI
In this Rondo not only does No. II. consist

I. transposed to the dominant and slightly
connecting passage between I. and II. is made
material to a great extent. I shall have mor
this movement later on. As a rule, there is
passage between No. II. and the repetition o
new matter or thematic work. I have already
length on the nature of the first connecting pa
it is not necessary to enlarge upon this one.
A few words will suffice forthe consideration o
of No. I. If No. I is short, say twelve to twen
single period form, it is usually entirely rep
sists of two or three periods, in many cases only
is repeated; but there is no rule as to this. If
the latter portion is invariably omitted here.
43
The Rondo Fornm. 103
In Mozart's Trio in B flat, the first subject of the Rondo

(which I have previously quoted) consists of three periods,
with double bars and repetition signs. The whole is
repeated in this place, but the double bars and repetition
signs are omitted just as is done in the da capo of a Minuet
and Trio. In his A minor Rondo only the first period is
repeated. Often, especially with Beethoven, the effect of the
repetition is enhanced by additional notes and an added
beauty in the music in the way that great composers know
how to do.
We have now to consider the third subject and its repre-
sentative, the development section. At the end of the first
repetition of No. I. there is sometimes a full close, a double-
bar, and a change of key signature. Sometimes, in addition
to this, there is a connecting passage between Nos. I. and III.
Sometimes No. I. does not come to a full close at all, but
breaks off into No. III., and it is hard to say where one
ends and the other begins. This last treatment is shown
in Mozart's Rondo in F, which commences thus,-
Andante. tr
-- i I P ! iw , 1 '--. L dTI I 1. II ----
I .n r -n91-- '1
also in Beethoven's Sonat

27), in the Finale. This su
come to a full close, but
the development begins,
subject.
I wish to spend a few minutes in discussing some of the
features that for the purposes of this paper I have called the
third subject. p to this point we have had two very nearly
related keys, and have had these thoroughly impressed on our
minds. Now is the place for more movement, more excitement
-a strong contrast to what has gone before. Subject No. III.
enters, therefore, in a new and more distantly related key,
and has almost invariably more motion, a larger number of
notes in each bar than what has gone before. As a rule the
same tempo is kept; but there are rare cases, where even
that and the time-signature are changed for the sake of
greater contrast. Moreover, as I have mentioned before, in
place of a third subject in a new key, there is as often as not
a development of the previous themes, and in consequence.
44
o104 The Rondo Form.
modulations through many keys, just as there is in the

Sonata form in this place; and even when there is distinct
new material, there is almost always some kind of thematic
development at its close before the first subject re-enters.
When this part of the movement consists of a new subject,
and there is no thematic development at all, it is usually not
very long.; but when it consists entirely or partly of
thematic work, it sometimes extends to a great length. For
instance, in the Finale of Beethoven's first Quartet, it reaches
the length of I36 bars, or more than a third of the whole
movement.
The third subject, or its representative, does not, as a
rule, conclude with a full close, although there are many
cases of this. It generally leads back to the principal key,
or the dominant pedal thereof, and prepares for the re-entry
of the first subject. This brings us to the final portion of
the movement. The general plan of this portion seems to be
as I have represented it on the board. That is to say, No.
I. followed by No. II., followed again by a portion of No.
I (never the whole), either together, with, or as a Coda. All
this is in the principal key, as it would be in a Sonata
movement. This portion of the movement is generally a
good deal lengthened by various means, and there is almost
invariably a short thematic development just before the
Coda, or the final entry of No. I., if it takes place here.
It is in the construction of this portion of the movement
that Mozart shows rather more diversity of treatment than
Beethoven; and he does it in two ways. Sometimes he
brings in No. II. before No. I.; sometimes he breaks up Nos.
I. and II., and their second parts come before their first.
In his Rondo en Polonaise, from a Sonata in D, No. II.
comes before No. I. in this place, and he has many examples
of this kind of treatment. In Beethoven's works I have only
noticed one example. In the Andante of his Quartet in D
(Op. 18), No. II. enters before No. I. The movement is in
Rondo form, and after the development section which takes
the place of No. III., No. II. enters in, and is followed by
No. I.
There are several cases of splitting up the subjects, and
re-distributing the pieces in Mozart's works. One example
is in his Sonata in C, the Rondo of which commences-
tiy ::O Op
45
The Rondo Form. 105
In this case Nos. I. and II. consist each of two divisions;

No. II. enters after No. III., then the first division of No.
I., then a repetition of the second division of No. II., and
finally the second division of No. I. Another case of this
sort is in his D minor Concerto, and still another in the fine
Finale of his Sonata for four hands, in F. I have not noticed
any cases of this splitting up in Beethoven's works.
Both composers frequently omit No. II. altogether in this
place. For instance, in the Rondo of Mozart's Violin Sonata
in E flat, and in that of the Waldstein Sonata.
Beethoven invariably, and Mozart sometimes, introduces
a second thematic development just before the Coda. This
is short, long, or very long. In Beethoven's Quintet for
piano and wind, in E flat, he merely hints at it. In his E
flat Concerto it is fifty bars long. In the eighth Symphony
it is about 9go bars long. He often extends his Codas to a
great length-probably the longest is in the Rondo of the
( Waldstein Sonata, where it extends to 147 bars.
I have now endeavoured to explain some of the details of
what I have found to be the most usual construction in
movements which are either called Rondo by their com-
posers, or which are similar to these in formation. There
is a little Rondo by Mozart, in C, which contains all the
essential characteristics of that form in a nutshell. It is
only eighty-one bars long, and yet it is absolutely complete
in all its details. It begins thus-
Allegretto.
,3SC r:i-. I I -r0 -li
I should like to
found deviatio
general plan of
In Beethoven's
first appearanc
universal cust
one would expe
second subjec
which leads wi
is the only case
a full close.
In Mozart's Concerto in E flat, the third subject of the
Rondo has a different time signature and different tempo from
the rest of the movement. This is the only instance I have
46
io6 The Rondo Form.
noticed in his works-the movement is in six-eight time,

Allegro, the third subject being in three-four time, Andantino.
Beethoven also has only one instance of this, as far as I
have noticed-in his Rondo in G (Op. 3i). The movement
is Andante, two-four time, the third subject being Allegretto,
six-eight, in E.
Mozart's Rondo in D-
and the Rondo from his Serenade Quartet in G-
Al. ro i -. - J , T - .
,1 i I
- rF I .- - pt i t Ir Ir r . ri
are both in Sonata form. That is, there is no repetition o

first subject, where we should expect it after No. II
both these movements come into the category of
Rondos in which the second subject is almost entirely
up of the same material as the first, and probably, there
so much recurrence of one principal subject, Mozart h
hesitation in naming the movements Rondo, owing t
Rondo feeling produced by this recurrence.
There is another Rondo in B flat, which is in Sonata
but in this case the second subject has no connection
the first with regard to its material. I gather from K
that. Mozart did not call it a Rondo. It begins thus-
All.gro 7
n I atali J - - -
In K6chel's catalogue it is described as follows: First
movement of a Sonata for Piano. Only 9I of the I48
bars are by Mozart, the rest are by Abb6 Stadler, and it
is published by Andr6 as Rondo Allegro.
47
The Rondo Form. 107
There are cases in which the third subject is omitted

altogether, and its place is not taken by any thematic
development. Examples are Mozart's Rondo alla Turca
and his Rondo en Polonaise.
The descriptions of the Rondo form in theoretical works are
many and various. For instance, Marx divides the Rondo
into five species, and in this he is followed by some other
writers. His first Rondo consists of a principal subject,
which I will call No. I., followed by what he calls a Gang,
and this is followed by a repetition of No. I., and a Coda.
This form would appear thus: I., G., I., Coda.
For the word Gang I have not yet found a satisfactory
English equivalent. Perhaps someone may presently be
able to suggest one.
Of the Rondo form No. I., Marx gives no example from
the works of the great masters. In the appendix of his book
he gives this scheme as an enlargement of the first Rondo
form: I., G, I., G, I., and gives as examples the first move-
ment of Beethoven's Sonata in F (Op. 54). His second
Rondo form has, instead of the Gang, a regular second
subject, and is on this plan-
I., II., I., Coda.
C, F, C.
He says that the only difference between this and the Minue
and Trio form is, that in the Rondo the materials are more
closely connected by their substance or the similarity of ex-
pression than in the Minuet and Trio, and also that in the
Rondo there may be exterior connecting passages. As an
example of the second Rondo form he gives this movement
of Mozart-
--.a. . iI.
E - L-L,nT I
(0);
,;-w- -4 !j ;'. I L
L
and shows that there is

motive contained in the first four notes-
occurs again as the first four notes of the second subject,

which is a new Lied in F minor. He then goes on to say
that the second subject may commence as a Lied and con-
clude as a Gang. The enlargement of this form is-
I., II., I., G, I., Coda,
48
io8 The Rondo Form.
for which, as an example, he gives the Largo from

Beethoven's Sonata in A (Op. 2) Its second subject is in B
minor, and ends with a Gang-
I I
This is follo
a Gang-
Then there is a third entry of No. I. and a Coda. Marx

considers that the first two are the smaller Rondo forms, and
says that they mostly occur in slow movements. The next
three he calls the greater Rondo forms. The third Rondo
form consists of
I., II., I., III., I., Coda.
You will observe that the second subject only occurs o
Marx quotes Dussek's La Consolation and the Rondo
the Waldstein, as examples. The fourth hasas its plan
I., II., I., III., I., II. (I., Coda).
This is the same as the third, with the exception that the
second subject is repeated. Marx gives as examples the
Finales of Beethoven's Funeral March Sonata and his Sonata
in A (Op. 2).
The fifth Rondo form is merely the Sonata form, with a
new subject in the place of the thematic development. Its
scheme is-
I., II., III., I., II., Coda.
You will observe that the first subject is not repeated
between the second and third. An example of this will be
found in the Finale of Beethoven's first Sonata. Marx says
that these last two Rondo forms are very closely allied to the
Sonata form. Later on, he speaks of mixed forms, and
among them the Sonatenartige Rondo, which may be
rendered in English by Rondo of Sonata character. In
this case the third subject is represented by the thematic
development, hence its Sonata character. I have already
alluded to this variety of Rondo. I was taught in Germany
to analyse Rondos on the basis of these five, or, rather, six
forms; but I often found myself very much mixed as to
which of them many Rondo movements belonged, and I do
49
The Rondo Form. Iog
not think they can be really necessary for purposes of

analysis.
As to the views of other writers, Herr Jadassohn, in
a little book published at Leipzig in I885, distinguishes
between two Rondo forms. The first without, and the
second with, an alternative subject. In the first-that is, the
Rondo without an alternative subject-the materials between
the principal subject and its repetition are unessential parts
of the movement, and are, therefore, not repeated. He gives
as examples the Rondos of Beethoven, Op. xo, No. 3, and
that of Op. 28, and he shows that in the first-mentioned ex-
ample, although the principal subject occurs five times, none
of the material which divides the repetitions is repeated. In
explanation of this five-fold occurrence of the principal
subject, I ought to mention that Jadassohn counts as one of
the repetitions, the few bars of it, which are quoted in F,
during one of the connecting passages. In the second ex-
ample I think Jadassohn has made a mistake, for the second
subject is distinctly repeated in the ordinary course. A
third example, Op. 3I, No. i, which he gives, is much more
to the point, for the second subject in this case is not repeated.
His second Rondo form is that which has an alternative
subject. One of the examples he gives is the Finale of
Beethoven's Sonata in A (Op. 2, No. 7), of which his
alternative subject is what I have called the third subject,
and he shows that this subject, being an essential part of the
movement, is hinted at, in what I have called the second
development, just before the Coda.
In a book by Skuhersky, of Prague, published in 1879, the
author gives five different forms, and then adds two more,
which he says Marx gives; but he cannot agree with him in
this subtlety and theoretical hair-splitting, although he pays
a warm tribute to the value of his works as a whole.
Lobe seems to hit the mark, when he says that the Rondo
form differs from that of the Sonata merely by the repetition of
the principal subject at the end of the first part of the move-
ment, and the omission of the repetition signs at the double-
bar; but he says nothing about the third subject, which is so
common in Rondos and so rare in Sonatas.
Since writing this paper my attention has been drawn to
Mr. Banister's lectures on Musical Analysis, in which he
gives such clear and concise descriptions of musical forms.
He distinguishes between movements of development and
movements of episode, and says that where there is more
than one episode, and therefore at least two returns to the
subject, the episodical movement is called a Rondo.
In conclusion, I may say that later composers have made
other variations in the form of the Rondo. For instance,
Mr. Corder remarks, in his article in Grove's Dictionary, that
50
IIO The Rondo Form.
Chopin often omits the third subject and the first repetition
of the first subject in his Rondos, and the piece is therefore
on the plan of the French Overture. Mendelssohn, in the
Finale of his G minor Concerto, places his second subject in
the same key as the first. Brahms, in the Rondo of his
Serenade in D, for orchestra, at the end of the third subject
brings in his second before the first, as Mozart has done in
so many cases; and in his G minor Quartet for piano and
strings the same treatment is shown. The Finale of Brahms's
second Symphony hints at the Rondo form, but the com-
poser only quotes the first four bars of his first subject at its
first repetition, and then, by the cleverest possible con-
trivance, leads into the development section.
DISC SSION.
THE CHAIRMAN.-The paper we have just listened to w

I have no doubt, draw attention to many valuable consid
tions, especially when there is a tendency now-a-days
disregard musical form altogether. Before we go a
further, however, I think a hearty vote of thanks is du
Mr. Williams for his excellent paper, after which I sha
call upon any member present to let us have the advant
of any observations upon the subject.
A hearty vote of thanks was unanimously accorded t
lecturer.
Miss OLIVERIA PREscoTT.-There is one thing rather
confusing about Mr. Williams's paper. A good many of the
different Rondo forms he has obtained from German books
seem to me simply Sonatas with little variations. I think
if we could get hold of the first principle, which I think Mr.
Williams quoted from Marx, that the Rondo really is a more
continuous form derived from the alternations of the minuet,
and the alternative minuet, we should get at the pith of the
matter. You want the repetition of the first subject, or else
you lose the Rondo. When you finish with an episode or
second subject you lose the character of the Rondo, and get
back to the character of the Sonata. There is a very simple
little example of the Rondo in the song, Lascia ch' io
pianga. Of course, interpolations and connecting links do
not make any difference to the variations or outgrowths one
way or the other. Then there is the valuable nature of the
episode or second subject. Sometimes its form is complete;
sometimes incomplete. I suppose that is what you meant
by the Gang, that the second subject was incomplete?
Mr. WILLIAMS.-That is what Marx means by it.
51
The Rondo Form. Ill
Miss PRESCOTT.-I should have thought it simpler to say

that that is another form of treating the episode.
Mr. WEBB.-I do not think that the Rondo has been
developed out of the Sonata. I believe it to be older than
the Sonata form. It seems to me that the original Rondo
form was simply a chant, with a chorus taken up at certain
intervals, the sort of thing that you hear at country fairs.
Still that may or may not be so. I don't like the sound of
the word Gang. The word link would be, perhaps, more
expressive, and seems to me more graceful than Gang.
Mr. BARRY.-I think the word Gang implies a transition
from the first to the second subject. You find it in.Mozart's
works, where that operation hardly amounts to a second;
but if you take Beethoven's Symphony Eroica you may
say that there is no Gang there at all.
Mr. WILLIAMS.-You would not call the development
section a Gang. I should call that Durch-fuehrung.
Splitting up a symphonic movement into three sections could
hardly be called a Gang. The first subject of a Sonata may
be a Gang.
Mr. BARRY.-I should only call that a Gang which lies
between the two principal subjects; the nature of the develop-
ment, you may say, is the Gang towards the recapitulation.
Mr. WILLIAMS.-Dr. Hubert Parry instances a passage,
gradually moving up and down, where a mass of harmony
goes with it, without coming to a full close; that would be
called a Gang.
Mr. WEBB.-Where would you place the Gang ?
Mr. WILLIAMS.-In the development.
Mr. WEBB.-I should call it a link.
Mr. WILLIAMS.-It does not necessarily come between any
two subjects.
Miss PRESCOTT.-He uses it for the kind of work rather
than for the position ?
Mr. WILLIAMS.-Yes, so I have always understood.
Mr. WEBB.-What would you call that portion which
comes in the Sonata between the first and second subjects ?
Mr. WILLIAMS.-I should call that the wischen-satz.
Mr. BARRY.-Then you say that Gang denotes anything
which is not the subject ?
The CHAIRMAN.-In old French poetry there was a form,
which I believe had rules and laws for its structure, called a
rondeau. If anyone knows the rules for the structure of
that form of lyric, perhaps it might throw some light on the
structure of the musical Rondo.
Mr. BARRY.-That was the origin of the whole thing. All
that we have heard to-night is only an evolution from the
French poem. I have always understood that the original
musical form called Rondo was taken from the French poem
52
112 The Rondo Form.
of the same name. It consisted of double stanzas of four

lines each. Then you had your second four lines, and then
the first four lines were repeated after every stanza. It
always finished up with the first four.
Mr. WEBB.-The Rondo form is of special interest because,
it seems to me, you should look for the development of it
in the future form of music. A good deal of very modern
music comes practically to that. A certain phrase recurs
at certain intervals, serving, as it were, to give coherence to
bind the composition together.
Mr. BARRY.-I may say that Marx was considerably
chaffed about the five forms of Rondos.
Mr. WILLIAMS.-And yet he was followed in this view by
a good many writers.
Mr. BARRY.-Yes; but he also had many opponents, who
would not swallow his ideas, and I do not see why we
should either.
Mr. WEBB.-There is a book, which only recently came
under my notice. It is a book, translated by Mr. Cornell,
and published by Messrs. Schirmer, of New York, and is an
admirable text book on form. It contains about fifty-six
chapters, and goes into the subject most thoroughly. Dr.
Bridge spoke most highly of it. From what I have seen of
it, it should prove of great value to students, and, in fact, to
anyone taking an interest in musical matters.
Mr. WILLIAMS.--I think that book is by Bissler. He
follows Marx throughout, only expresses himself more
briefly. You may read Marx in that book. I used it at
Leipzig, but have discarded it since making my own
investigations.
Mr. WEBB.-The title of it is: Theory and Practice of
Musical Form.
Mr. WILLIAMS.-The history of the Rondo and the
derivation of the word having already been so ably treated
by Dr. Hubert Parry and others, I did not think it
necessary to allude to the subject. As to the connection
of the Rondo with the Sonata, I take it that it is virtually
the same thing as the Sonata, with this one exception,
that the first subject is repeated after the second; that
is a reminiscence of the old Rondo.
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
I02 FIRST PART.
95
The structurewith regard to key is as follows: —
1 8* period in G-7ninor with half-close (<af+) at the 8^^
measure; the repeated after-section then modulates to
B^^ -major (parallel); the 2"^ period modulates to C-niinor
(under-dominant), and at the 4^^ measure makes a half,
and at the S*'^ a full-close, which is confirmed (8 a). The
3*<^ period returns by the nearest road (^^ = ^^^^) to the
principal key, and remains stationary, at the fourth measure,
on a half-close (^'), which is repeatedly confirmed; also
the full-close of the eighth measure is confirmed by a
supplementary one, with feminine ending, touching on the
under-dominant.
The fugue (k 4) a highly instructive piece. By the
is
way it may be mentioned that a Capriccio in D-mmor
by Friedemann Bach has fugal treatment of a theme al-
most similar:
Friedemann Bach;
^^^^^^m_
our Dux;
As Friedemann was only twelve years of age when

his father had completed the first part of the Well-tempered
Clavier (1722), his work is probably an unconscious pla-
giarism; but, in every respect, it is inferior to that of his
father's, and especially in the character of the theme
itself, which has lost its pensive earnestness, and has be-
come hurried and restless; the absence of the feminine
ending in the first half, and of the (accented) rest at the
beginning of the second, are heavy losses.
Jadassohn justly notices the unity of the whole fugue,
inasmuch as the countersubject introduces no fresh motive,
but only the inversion of theme motives:
16. PRELUDE AND FUGUE IN G- MINOR.
103
96
Comes
i^counter
subject
i^-.k;s4j!
But the matter is not quite so simple as he makes

out. Had Bach provided counterpoint somewhat after
this fashion:
^^ ^SB
WW nrrUT^ b*
the countersubject would really be only the inversion of

the theme, with the two halves in reversed position, and
shght bridging over of the gap^ but then the tautology
of both would have been unmistakable, and the whole
would have been in danger of losing its vitality. Bach,
indeed, by using both halves of the theme, but displaced by
one crotchet in the measure (so that the accented becomes
unaccented, and vice versa), makes the same thing appear
sojnething quite differerit. (It is well known that the charm
of a close canon consists in the imitatio?t becorning counter-
subject). If we articulate Bach's countersubject more pre-
cisely, we find first a syncopated motive (the g before the
rest produces an effect quite similar to a note held over,
only more striking, more sobbing), which in the feminine
ending beyond the rest contains a second element foreign
to the theme:
i^ ;i^ ^
T04 FIRST PART,
97
The ascending motive ^^ J at the beginning of the
second half, Hkewise a very precious addition, as it

is
clearly shows the meaning of the accented rest in the
theme, and prevents the same from being understood as
an end rest; the inversion of the opening motive has the
same position in the measure as in the theme, but arranged
so that here it forms the conclusion, whereas there it
formed the opening; and thus it, too, forms an important
countersubject. By comparing both principal motives
through both voices, my meaning will be better under-
stood: —
^^ FS^-*
ît
:ii
and:
m
The theme
m
of three measures (- ^ -) and
consists
FftTl^
therefore gives opportunity in the developments for the

elision of the unaccented opening measure of the several
half periods (i^* and 5^^ M.), whereas the episodes are
regularly formed (cf. the C-major fugue I. 1). In point
of melody the theme belongs to the quiet ones, those
based on the triad position (compass f\ g b^ d e\^).
\ \
In the answer a change of interval is seen at the outset

(third g d\^ in place of second a d\?), because the Comes
has to modulate from the principal key to the dominant,
but must not leap at one bound to the same. The first
two voice entries (alto, soprano) are separated from the
two others (bass, tenorj Dy an episode of two measures
evolved from the countersubject. After the close 'mZ>-mmor
(dominant) follows a long episode, with elision of i ^^ and
5^^ measures; but it repeats the second group (3 4 M.) —
and concludes in B^^ -major (parallel).
16. PRELUDE AND FUGUE IN G- MINOR.
105
98
The second (modulating middle) section which now
begins, first introduces the Dux (alto) in B^ -major then
^
the strict Comes (bass) passing regularly from B^- major to

F-fJiajor, further the Dux (soprano) in F-major (or, one
might say, the Comes in B^-viajor without its distin-
guishing opening step), so that this whole second develop-
ment is in B]^- major. The first three entries follow with
elision of the unaccented opening measure, the last without
elision, but also without any connecting notes. The second
half of the modulation section (and also the concluding
section) which is approached by two measures leading
to C-7ninor (under-dominant) has only one form of the
theme (that of the Dux), i. e. we have fresh confirmation
of the principle that the structure of the first development
is the real cause of the double form of the theme as Dux
and Comes; but it must not be overlooked that the very
widening of the first step in the theme of this fugue
intensifies the expression. The order of voices in the
third development is as follows: — tenor (theme in
C-viinor [g a\?], soprano (likewise g a\^), alto (theme in
G-minor [principal key]), all three follov/ing one another
in immediate succession. This whole development (as
also the following episode already belonging to the closing
section) is throughout in three voices (Foikel's reproach of
less perfection may perchance refer to this long departure
from 4 -part writing). The concluding section resumes
the principal key which enters at the close of the 3 ""^ develop-
ment, and, at the end of an 8-measure period freely
developed from motive b (see above), makes a half-close,
and then follows on with an apparent stretto of the Dux
through three voices (soprano, tenor, bass; only the first
part of the theme is used in complete form, the second
is replaced by the counterplay of the countersubject) and
two complete theme entries (Dux in alto and in tenor), in
which 4-part grows to 5-part writing (but only as chords)!
u. PRELUDE AND FUGUE IN F- MINOR.
99 79
Adagio pensieroso.
r f r j i=^^=^^^
l^S^ . I
v=^
(2) (4)
Although already the countersubject introduces semi-

quaver movement, and although the crotchets are slow
enough to represent beats, still the Allabreve character
of the fugue cannot be ignored. The minims are cer-
tainly so slow as to produce the character of measured
movement, which, by the constantly recurring runs of the
counter-subject (typical of the whole figuration of the
long piece), becomes all the more prominent:
Countersubject.
^^^^^^^^^^
(6)
^^^^^^m k^:^=S!k=A^
^V=
(8)
The straight lines of the separate motives should be

well noted; where a feminine ending would cause the bending
of a line, the "ligature" (syncopation) is replaced by arrest,
and the end note becomes the starting note of a new
motive. Thus it is impossible to lose sight of the
already emphasized Allabreve-character of the theme and
to bring out the same in performance, without allowing
the small details of a highly expressive figuration to ob-
scure it (herein the fugue differs essentially from the pre-
lude, which has not also this Allabreve-character).
The answer of the theme is quite analogous to that
of the F-maJor fugue*, here, as there, the theme commences
with the fifth of the scale (but in the harmony of the
tonic) and ends on the fundamental note; the Comes has
^
8o FIRST PART.
100
therefore to modulate from the harmony of the tonic to
the key of the dominant /. e. the answer does not com-
mence with g, but with /, so that the first melodic step is
extended. The chromatic nature of the theme is faith-
fully preserved in the answer; it implies harmonic depths,
^
which materially aid in bringing out the pensive character
of this fugue:
-^J—i—
lI
* tl^= ^J-bJI .
I
oc vn og
(6) d^ g' ^g cvn c+ Og g' (8) «g
(cni<)
The metrical nature of the theme (~ ^ ~; the i st

[unaccented] measure is wanting) gives rise to a great
number of elisions (whenever an entr)'" of the theme
occurs, a measure of 4 crotchets or 2 minims is wanting).
If, in spite of this, the symmetry never appears seriously
to be disturbed, and changes of meaning (of measures)
do not occur, the reason is that, as soon as the theme
ceases, in place of the above mentioned AUabreve measure,
an ordinary ^/^ bar (with crotchets as beats or counts)
enters; for it is certainly clearly impossible to take the
episodes with their logical working-out of the first motive
of the counter-subject in an AUabreve - sense.
We have therefore throughout the fugue alternate periods,

some with the measure motive J> others with!
J |
J. |
The first development includes the 4 voice entries in

the order, tenor alto, — bass —
soprano: of these —
the first three (Dux Comes — —
Dux) are immediately
connected one with the other, whereas between the third
and the fourth, an episode of 6 measures J J 2; (i —
—
|
I a 2 a; 3 —
4) is inserted. The fourth voice brings
in Ukewise the Dux, so that the exposition concludes
in the principal key (total compass; 3 times 3 mea-
sures of J 6 measures of J, and still once more

I,
I J |
3 measures of J | J).
12. PRELUDE AND FUGUE ItJ F-MINOR. g,
101
The second development, likewise in the principal
key, is of looser construction, and contains only two theme-
ftntries. After an episode of 6 measures modulating
J |
J,
to C-minor (i — 4, 3a — 4a), the
tenor introduces the theme
—
in the key of the upper-dominant (^C-minor) or rather
the Comes without its distinctive mark (the third at the
commencement), and after a new episode leading back through
B^ -minor and A^- major to F-minor, and consisting of
8 measures J |
#> with emphatic repetition of the first
group of the aftei, J J measures), the

jection (triplet of |
bass introduces the Dux, at the conclusion of which, by

cessation (though only quite a short one) of the three upper
voices, the close of the first (principal) section is marked off.
The modulating middlesection again has only two
theme entries, first in the alto, after an episode of 8 mea-
sures J I J passing through D^ -major, B^- minor to

A? -major; this entry commences va.A?-major, but the close
turns to F-minor (everything indeed happens so smoothly
and so naturally that I cannot discover in it any trace of
Bruyck's "harmonic Q.g% dance" ["harmonischer Eiertanz"]);
and, after a further episode of 7 measures (the first,
J |
1
in unaccented one, is passed over), which modulates through

C-minor and A^ -major to E^- major (half close on
bt''), a second in the tenor. With this the end of the middle
section is reached /. e. the next episode, which passes
through A^ -major, and F-minor (principal key) to a half
close on g^, leads already to the
Concluding section (re-establishment of the principal
&ey). The chief features of the latter are the ap-
pearance of the theme which now follows in the key of the
dominant {^C-minor'), or better still of the Comes without
the distinction only necessary for the first development*,
and, after an intermediate episode of 6 measures J |
J
the appearance of the Dux in the bass, to which, finally,
a 'Tjose- confirmation of 4 measures J appended.

J is i
Thus the tripartite division is here easily recognized and

the modulatory means are altogethei of a simple character-,
so that, throughout, the principal key of F-minor formr
the point of stress.
Ricnann Analysis of Bach'« "Wohltemperirtes Clavief" ^
\
.S
la
102
2 Schenker’s final theory
This chapter provides an overview of Schenker’s mature theory, its descrip-

tion derived primarily from his final publication, Der freie Satz. It comprises
eight sections. The first four deal with specific techniques (and to some
extent their ideological justification), the fifth with the theory’s view of
consonance–dissonance relationships, the sixth with its notation, the
seventh with the description of a Schenker graph, and the eighth with the
theory’s relation to Schenker’s general development. The concern of this
chapter, then, is Schenker’s goal, the final theory toward which his work was
directed. It thus offers a glimpse at the culmination of its development,
providing background for Part II’s focus on the development itself. To
simplify the description, only very short graphs appear in the first four
sections, plus a longer one (by Schenker himself) in Section 7 (pp. 33–36).1
There are many ways one might approach Schenker’s final theory: from
a theoretical, biographical, or historical perspective, for example. My own
concern, however, is with the theory as a complete, self-enclosed system.
This chapter thus differs from the next six, which emphasize the theory’s
growth and the aesthetic beliefs underlying it, in offering a conceptual
snapshot of the end result: the theory’s final construction and what it claims
to do. What appears here will be well known to many; but since it is framed
with an eye toward the arguments that follow, it should be useful for all
readers. No attempt has been made to criticize the theory; and the chapter
focuses entirely on pitch, a problematic feature which it simply takes for
granted. Though Schenker was deeply concerned with non-pitch factors,
especially their effect on formal and rhythmic structure, they do not (nor
could they) belong to the final theory proper.
1
For those wishing a more concrete illustration of the mature theory at this point, there are, in
addition to the description in this chapter, detailed graphic descriptions of Schenker analyses
in Section 3 of Chapter 7 (pp. 145–53) and Section 4 of Chapter 8 (pp. 165–71). Also
recommended for general orientation is Rothstein (2001), and the articles on “Analysis,”
“Heinrich Schenker,” and Schenkerian transformational procedures in the New Grove
Dictionary of Music and Musicians, second edition (2001), the first by Ian Bent and the
14 others by William Drabkin.
103
Schenker’s final theory 15
Before turning to the theory itself, two preliminary matters should be

considered. The first concerns Schenker’s treatment of technical termino-
logy, much of which he invented expressly for his theory. In introducing
the terms, I normally give the German first, in italics, followed by the
standard English translation in quotation marks; but thereafter I use the
English translation exclusively, without quotation marks or italics. For a
few fundamental terms, however, I retain the German original, because it
is well known to most English-speaking musicians and has important
connotations missing from the translation. Thus “Ursatz” and “Urlinie”
are used, since their Ur prefix, missing in the English equivalents, suggests
important attributes such as primordial existence, weight, stability, and
internal coherence. Similarly, “Zug” is often (but not always) favored over
“linear progression,” since several of its German meanings suggest move-
ment: “train,” “breath,” “chess move,” “succession,” etc. Finally, “Stufe” is
preferred to “scale degree,” here however because its Schenkerian meaning
is so much at odds with the English translation.
The second matter concerns the number and location of analytical layers.
This question is largely skirted, both here and later, as Schenker, though
occasionally giving attention to the specific analytical level at which an idea
appears, does not provide a comprehensive statement on the subject.
Moreover, I feel that ignoring it does not unduly compromise understand-
ing the theory.
A final important consideration is whether the theory is generative or
reductive. Does music result from the elaboration of a tonic triad, or is it
reducible to this triad? Though this question is often argued, in general
I follow Schenker’s lead in adopting a generative perspective. He does not
claim, however, that his theory describes how music is actually composed
(generated), or that composers followed it consciously (though he believed
many did so unconsciously). The difference between generation and
reduction is essentially a “logical” one, distinguishing two different ways
of treating the same phenomenon. Nevertheless, as we shall see, there are
distinct advantages in taking the generative view.
Fundamentals: chord of nature, composing-out, Ursatz,

transformation procedures, hierarchic space, tripartite division,
generation, long-range feature
Schenker’s theory is an attempt to explain what tonal music is and how it

works. He believed that all great music is tonal, but only a small portion of
104
16 Theory
tonal music is great; and consequently, he was exclusively concerned with

what he called the “masterpieces” of tonal literature. The theory, then, is not
one of music in general, though Schenker seemed to consider it so, but of
a limited body of works exclusively drawn from the eighteenth and nine-
teenth centuries.
The theory’s most basic assumption is that the pitches in these works –
which constituted the only music the mature Schenker truly cared about –
represent the horizontal expression of the major or minor triad, a vertical
event. This abstract triad is provided to music by nature’s overtone series
and referred to as the Naturklang, or “chord of nature.” On this founda-
tional point, however, Schenker already makes an important concession.
For the minor triad, despite its corresponding function to the major triad,
is unlike the major “unnatural” and must be humanly constructed. He
accounts for this anomaly by the minor triad’s preservation of the framing
perfect fifth, the only difference being that it lowers the major third by a
half-step. The two triads together, then, one major and natural and the other
minor and unnatural (or natural by analogy alone), provide music’s primary
source of coherence.
Schenker considers all tonal music as an Auskomponierung, or “composing-
out,” of one of these two consonant triads through Verwandlung, or “trans-
formation,” leading to various types of “prolongation.”2 A principal object of
the theory, then, is to present and explain the transformational procedures
responsible for composing-out the underlying triad through elaborations, and
to demonstrate how these work together to bring the underlying triad to
compositional life. Common to all transformations, however, is that they
convert something vertical and abstract (ultimately the chord of nature) into
something horizontal and concrete, a process that eventually leads to the
complete composition. In other words, music transforms a “spatial” event
borrowed from nature (or the closely analogous minor one) into a “temporal”
event produced by human interaction.
There are only two kinds of triadic transformation: arpeggiated trans-
formations, which move by leap from one triadic component to another;
and linear transformations, which move by step from one triadic compo-
nent to another in passing through one or more intervening dissonances.
Arpeggiated motion, then, directly connects two harmonic tones, while
linear motion moves between them, filling out the Raum, or “space,” that
2
The distinction between composing-out and prolongation is subtle and often confused even by
Schenkerians. Basically, composing-out is a process produced by elaboration, while prolongation
is the result of that process. Composing-out thus produces prolongation, while prolongation
results from composing-out.
105
separates them. Since Schenker holds that musical space is always diatonic,
the origin of both linear and arpeggiated motion is diatonic, with chromatic
motion always resulting from elaboration of a simpler diatonic foundation.
When linear motion, considerably more common than arpeggiation,
moves through three or more tones it forms a Zug, or “linear progression,”
which has an especially prominent role in the theory. But both types of
elaboration are essential, as is evident even at the most basic level of triadic
elaboration, the Ursatz, or “fundamental structure”: the theory’s most primi-
tive construct and its driving force. Every Ursatz consists of two voices,
a linear component in the upper voice, called the Urlinie, or “fundamental
line,” and an arpeggiated one in the lower voice, called the Bassbrechung, or
“bass arpeggiation.”
Each Ursatz retains the same basic form. Its Urlinie always moves
diatonically downward through the triad within a single obligate Lage, or
“obligatory register,” from a higher triadic tone (third, fifth, or the root’s
upper octave) to the first degree; while the bass arpeggiation always moves
from the tonic of the triad to the fifth above and back again, accompanying
the Urlinie with the same motion, located at least an octave below the
Urlinie. The three possible Ursatz forms (see Example 2.1) are essentially
identical: each moves within the space of an octave from an upper triadic
Urlinie tone accompanied by the arpeggiation’s first degree, and then
descends stepwise to the second degree accompanied by the arpeggiation’s
fifth, before finally arriving on the tonic accompanied by the arpeggiation’s
return to the first degree. As the tonic triad’s most basic composing-out
operation, the Ursatz is thus common, in one of its three forms, to all tonal
compositions, and incorporates both types of transformational motion,
linear in the top voice and arpeggiation in the bass.
One of the most important of Schenker’s assumptions is that the passing
motion of the Urlinie, as well as all linear progression in general, must always
be realized in a particular way. This is acknowledged in the idealistic belief
that tones have “wills” or “egos”: a spiritual dimension that requires them to
behave in a certain way and no other. Even the greatest composers must obey
the tonal urges of tones, which are beyond all individual intention.
Also essential is that the Ursatz has two outer voices, reflecting one of the
central features of the theory: that triadic elaboration, and thus musical
Example 2.1 The three forms of the Ursatz

106
18 Theory
structure, is defined primarily by contrapuntal combination of its outer

voices. As we shall see, however, “outer” voices are “structural” for Schenker
and do not necessarily coincide with the music’s “actual” high notes.
The question of whether the Ursatz represents a harmonic or contra-
puntal motion is a vexed one. Since the Ursatz unfolds the tonic triad, it
obviously has an important harmonic function; yet since it transforms an
underlying vertical sonority into a horizontal Entfaltung, or “unfolding,” it
has a contrapuntal one as well. Its harmonic significance, however, arises
solely because the vertical intervals produced by its combined two voices
imply three-part (and thus triadic) harmony: tonic in its first and last
simultaneity and dominant in the penultimate one. Schenker acknowledges
this by including inner voices with these simultaneities in almost all of
his Ursatz graphs, yet he notates them with black notes so as to indicate
that they are not part of the Ursatz proper. The harmonies implied by these
inner voices nevertheless play a critical role in many transformational
processes, as will become apparent.
As the most encompassing of all Schenker’s theoretical concepts, the
Ursatz provides the key for the entire theory. Since it is relatively easily
described, however, its presentation in Der freie Satz takes up considerably
less space than its elaborations and transformations. This mirrors the
theory’s main burden, which is to show how the complexity and variety of
actual music is derived from transformational procedures applied to a
seemingly simple and rigid Ursatz. The theory’s presentation thus consists
largely of explanations of the later transformations and their realizations:
that is, of how all music – like the Ursatz itself – results from linear and
arpeggiated elaborations of simpler underlying structures. In addition, it
shows that the Stufe, or harmonic “scale degree,” is formed by larger contra-
puntal elaborations that, linked together, produce still larger Stufen.3
This relates to a critical aspect of the theory: its hierarchical structure.
Music is viewed as analytically divisible into a series of connected analytical
Schichten, or “layers” (frequently also translated as “levels”), each of which
consists of an elaboration of its predecessor and is vertically aligned with all
others. The Ursatz, the highest layer in this arrangement (from a generative
perspective, though the “deepest” from a reductive one) is thus linked
through these layers to all subsequent ones through the transformational
hierarchy they define, and ultimately to the composition itself. And since
3
The relationship of Stufen to the Ursatz is discussed in Section 4 of this chapter (pp. 25–29),
as well as at various later points, especially in connection with the contrapuntal nature of the
Ursatz in Section 3 of Chapter 10 (pp. 209–12).
107
the Ursatz forms the most fundamental transformation of the chord of

nature, all additional transformations serve to elaborate it. Though the
number of layers between Ursatz and composition is variable, all have their
source in the Ursatz, which generates them and to which they owe their
ultimate meaning. And since they are notationally arranged in vertical order
from the Ursatz layer down to the lowest transformation, their interconnec-
tions are easily read. If, however, too many elaborations make alignment
unfeasible in longer compositions (as is often the case), the levels may be
presented separately and the composition itself omitted.
Schenker distinguishes among transformational layers according to three
divisions of prolongational space: Hintergrund, Mittelgrund, and Vordergrund,
or “background,” “middleground,” and “foreground.” Though the back-
ground contains only the Ursatz, the number of layers in the other two
groupings is unspecified. But as Schenker himself evidently believed, it is
rarely necessary to indicate the exact distribution; and he provides little
information on the subject. For most purposes, then, the exact number
and location of layers is less important than their tripartite division.4
We can close this first section by considering Schenker’s motto: “Semper
idem sed non eodem modo” (“Always the same, but not in the same way”).
It summarizes his belief that all great music unfolds the tonic triad through
an essentially identical underlying motion (the Ursatz), and that this gives
rise to further elaborations based upon similar musical procedures, termi-
nating in the music’s overall structure. The triad’s initial unfolding thus
serves as the basis for all additional transformations, so that each compo-
sition is derived from a relatively small number of operations that share a
common source and identical basic form. And since the Ursatz consists of
three essentially unvarying transformations and is the source of everything
else, it assures that music is always the same, yet is realized in infinitely
different ways.
Linear transformations
Of the two types of transformations, the linear ones are much more common.
They also confront us with one of the theory’s basic assumptions: that
stepwise motion forms the basis for all melodic content. Since the most
4
Proctor and Riggins (1988) suggest the following: the background contains the Ursatz alone, the
middleground contains two or more levels and is thus variable in number, and the foreground
contains two: the final analytical level (where meter is introduced) and the musical “surface”
notated in the score.
108
20 Theory
prominent stepwise motion is the Zug, which moves by step from one
harmonic tone to another, this transformation lies at the heart of Schenker’s
theory. It is basically contrapuntal in nature, but since all linear motion is
derived from the triad, it has a harmonic basis as well: stepwise motion, a non-
harmonic linear principle, is used to join two triadic tones, a harmonic one.
Stepwise motion carries the linear progression from one triadic compo-
nent to the next through the non-triadic tones between them, considered
by Schenker (following theoretical tradition) as “passing” dissonances
between triadic supports. All linear progressions pass through at least one
such non-triadic component. Neighbor motion, on the other hand, though
also dissonant and equally directed toward a triadic tone, differs in that it
returns to the same tone from which it departed. Despite its significance at
all layers but the Ursatz, neighbor motion is thus understood as being
derived from, and less fundamental than, passing motion.
Arpeggiation thus consists of purely harmonic motion, while passing
motion, which fills in an underlying arpeggiation, incorporates both har-
monic and non-harmonic elements. In its simplest form the Zug composes-
out a single harmony, moving through it from one chordal tone to another;
but it can also connect different triads by moving from a chordal tone in one
to a chordal tone in the other (see Example 2.2).
In the first form it demonstrates the importance of inner voices for
Schenker. Since only one triadic tone forms the analytical top voice of a
composed-out chord, the Zug composes-out the triad either by moving
from it to an inner voice, or vice versa (regardless of whether the analytical
inner voice in the music is actually positioned above or below the analytical
top voice).5
Another critical idea is Festhalten, or “mental retention.” In a Zug that
moves through a single triad, for example, the listener recalls the harmonic
tone from which it departs, keeping it in mind as the Zug continues to its
final triadic tone. The first and last triadic tones, then, are by definition
always consonant and harmonic, while the intervening motion is at least
partly dissonant, forming a transient (passing) “bridge” connecting the
Example 2.2 Two forms of a fifth-Zug in C major
5
The special role of the Zug, or linear progression, is discussed at more length in Section 3 of
Chapter 8 (pp. 162–65).
109
Example 2.3 A C-major Urlinie with 4̂ , temporarily converted into a consonance, as

endtone of a fifth-Zug
principal triadic elements. Closely related is the Kopfton, or “headtone,” the

tone mentally retained in the linear progression and thus present in the
imagination even when no longer sounding; and the Endton, or “endtone,”
which forms the goal of the linear progression. Mental retention of the
headtone, then, is what makes possible the composing-out process, assuring
the triad’s identity despite its linear unfolding.
Other forms of the Zug are also possible. The single-triad type can either
rise or fall, composing-out either the headtone or endtone as the principal
top voice.
Similarly, linear progressions that move from one triad to another
compose-out the motion between the two. Especially important is that a
Zug can prolong any tone, and move through any triad, as long as its head-
tone and endtone are treated as temporarily consonant (see Example 2.3).6
Significantly, the Ursatz itself consists partly of the composition’s most
basic linear progression, the Urlinie. In this sense, then, the Ursatz may
seem to be less fundamental than the Zug, since its Urlinie represents only
one of many possible linear progressions. And not coincidentally, Schenker
conceived of the Zug well before the Ursatz and initially also referred to it as
the “Urlinie.” (The Ursatz is, in fact, one of the theory’s later formulations,
attaining its final form only in 1930, in the last volume of Das Meisterwerk.)
A Zug can also appear in the bass and inner voices. For example, a common
instance occurs if the rising fifth of the Ursatz’s bass arpeggiation is filled in
with stepwise motion to form a linear succession. But any treble or bass note,
if treated at some level as consonant, can become the headtone of a linear
progression, even if it is an inner voice or dissonant at a more background
level.
All Schenkerian transformations involving stepwise motion are related
to linear progressions, and all depend upon mental retention. An Anstieg,
or “initial ascent,” can be formed, for example, by a linear progression that
ascends to the first Urlinie tone (see Example 2.4).
Similarly Übergreifung, or “reaching over,” combines an incomplete
descending neighbor motion and superimposed inner voices in a regular
6
For more on consonance–dissonance relationships, see Section 5 below (pp. 29–31).
110
22 Theory
Example 2.4 A linear third as initial ascent to the first tone of an Ursatz
Example 2.5 Reaching over and reaching under
Example 2.6 Two forms of unfolding, both also with linear progressions
Example 2.7 Two voice exchanges, the second with a linear progression
pattern that often results in a rising linear progression; while Untergreifung,

or “reaching under,” results from linear motion down from an upper voice
to an inner one (see Example 2.5).
Linear progressions can also occur with Ausfaltung, or “unfolding,” if two
voices in a single chord are connected and then filled in by stepwise motion,
or when two chords combine to create a more background line forming a
linear progression (see Example 2.6).
And two simultaneous linear progressions, normally in the outer voices,
can produce in tandem a Stimmwechsel, or “voice exchange,” composing-
out a triad so that its outer voices are exchanged, as for example when a top
voice moves from a chord’s third to its root while the bass moves from its
root to its third (see Example 2.7).
At more foreground layers linear progressions can also be elaborated by
standard contrapuntal techniques such as neighbor motion, suspension, or
anticipation. And linear progressions, including the Urlinie, can be altered
by Mixtur, or “mixture,” if one or more of its components (usually the third
or second, but never the underlying fifth) is borrowed from another mode
(major, minor, and Phrygian). See Example 2.8.
111
Example 2.8 C-major Zug with mixture
Example 2.9 C-major Urlinie with linear progressions from 5̂ and 2̂
Example 2.10 Auxiliary cadence with an incomplete transference
Though all of these transformations have been graphed here as background

or high middleground events, all, including the Urlinie, can also be elaborated
by more foreground linear transformations derived from, and relating back to,
this more background one. The first note of an Urlinie on the fifth degree, for
example, can be elaborated by a linear progression of a third or fifth, tempo-
rarily descending to the third or first degree as an inner voice of the underlying
tonic triad; or the next-to-last note of an Urlinie, always the second degree,
can, if temporarily converted into a consonance, descend by third to the
seventh degree as inner voice of the dominant triad (see Example 2.9).
When a more foreground linear progression – whether transposed or
not – is identical to one of the three Urlinie types and is accompanied by
the requisite bass arpeggiation, it is said to form an Übertragung, or “trans-
ference” of the Ursatz (as in Example 2.11), which is extremely common
and often associated with thematic units or complete formal sections. It is
also possible to omit the first part of an Ursatz, giving rise to a Hilfskadenz,
or “auxiliary cadence,” which may form an unvollständige Übertragung, or
“incomplete transference” (see Example 2.10).
Arpeggiated transformations
Arpeggiated transformations, being fewer in number and simpler in con-

struction, can be treated more briefly. Any pitch of the Ursatz bass
112
24 Theory
Example 2.11 Arpeggiation on ii in C major as part of transferred Ursatz
Example 2.12 Dividers on fifth degree and third degree
arpeggiation can be composed-out with its own bass arpeggiation, either

as part of a transferred Ursatz, or independently if the top voice does not
conform to an Urlinie. Arpeggiated elaborations also depend upon mental
retention; and they can appear on any bass note that is temporarily treated
as a consonance, whether or not it is itself part of an arpeggiation. In the
case of non-tonic arpeggiations, Schenker speaks of Tonikalizierung, or
“tonicization,” in which case the principal note is momentarily treated as a
tonic; and if it accompanies a Zug, the latter may include one or more
chromatic notes, giving rise to a transferred Ursatz. For example, since
Schenker views music as non-modulating, the arpeggiation on ii in C
major may include a Zug with F], thus tonicizing that degree (see
Example 2.11).
A bass note can also be followed by a fifth-arpeggiation that does not
return in the same phrase to the first degree, or less commonly by a third-
arpeggiation that ends before reaching the fifth, in both cases producing a
so-called “backward-related” arpeggiation. Schenker refers to a note com-
pleting only the first part of an arpeggiation as a Teiler, or “divider,” whether
it ends on the third or fifth degree (see Example 2.12).
At more foreground layers the rising fifth of a bass arpeggiation can also
be subdivided into two third-arpeggiations. And triadic arpeggiations can
be expanded beyond the octave, consisting of intervals larger than the third
and fifth (for example, from C upwards by tenth through G to E). And just
as linear motions can prolong the bass, arpeggiated motions can elaborate
upper voices, including the Urlinie.
Arpeggiations also appear in conjunction with transformational types
associated with linear progressions. An ascent to the first structural tone,
for example, can form an arpeggiation or, under certain circumstances, a
filled-in arpeggiation rather than a normal linear progression. And every
Zug implies at least one background arpeggiation (see Example 2.13).
113
Example 2.13 Two initial ascents by arpeggiation, the second with a linear progression
Mixture can appear in combination with arpeggiation, but only if the

third or second is altered, not the root or fifth. Similarly, reaching over,
reaching under, and unfolding can give rise to both arpeggiation and
stepwise motion (see Examples 2.5 and 2.6).
Arpeggiated and linear motion need not appear separately, even in a
single analytical voice, but can be combined so that one transformation
elaborates the other. Thus the first Urlinie tone may be elaborated by an
arpeggiation that is filled in with a linear ascent, or a bass arpeggiation that
is filled in with a passing succession.
Due to the assumption that any tone can be treated temporarily as a
consonance, all linear motions can be elaborated at some level by arpeggia-
tion and all arpeggiations elaborated by linear motion. In the case of the
Ursatz, however, the two types of motion, linear and arpeggiated, work
together on equal terms, one not subordinate to the other.
Before closing these comments on linear and arpeggiated transformations,
it should be stressed that, despite their differences, the two types deal with
essentially the same phenomenon. Indeed, viewed more fundamentally, their
distinction disappears, for they create exactly the same result: motion from
one triadic tone to another. Since both produce composed-out triads, they are
distinguishable only by their means, not by their result. Nevertheless, the fact
that a Schenkerian analysis consists mainly of linear progressions indicates
more than a numerical difference: their presence at all structural layers, and in
both outer voices, helps explain the underlying consistency of Schenker’s
analytical method. All motions, both linear and arpeggiated, are directly
related to one another: all arpeggiations can contain linear progressions,
and all linear progressions can result in arpeggiations. The two types thus
work together in creating a consistent overall pattern.
Other assumptions: teleology, interruption, octave

equivalence, compound melody, consonance conversion,
substitution
There are numerous additional theoretical assumptions made by Schenker

to help explain how the detailed pitch motions of actual compositions
114
26 Theory
Example 2.14 Interrupted Ursatz with Urlinie on 5̂
project a single underlying triad (the chord of nature), elaborating both the
triad and configurations derived from it. And since all transformations have
their origin in the chord of nature, they are simultaneous agents of growth,
prolongation, and diminution (Schenker’s favored term for relatively fore-
ground melodic variation), and thus guarantors of the music’s unity.
One such assumption is teleology: the transformations not only compose-
out a more fundamental event but have a directed goal as well. The goal of
the Ursatz, for example, common to both voices, is the first scale degree,
which is approached by step in the Urlinie and by arpeggiation in the bass. In
this sense, then, the Ursatz does not simply elaborate the underlying chord
of nature but “realizes” it by completing it, the triad being fully attained only
after the two voices reach their final verticality. What matters for the theory,
then, is not simply that there is musical motion of a given type, but that this
motion is directed toward a simultaneous tonic arrival.
An especially critical elaboration of the Ursatz, developed only near the
end of Schenker’s life, is Unterbrechung, or “interruption,” which occurs
when both voices of its next-to-last component (the second scale degree in
the top voice and fifth in the bass) stop before reaching their final tonic
goal. Following Schenker’s interruption sign (two short vertical lines), there
is then a repetition of the entire Ursatz, but this time uninterrupted (see
Example 2.14).7
The interrupted component can also be composed-out further, in which
case the complete repetition does not immediately follow it.
Despite its late formulation, interruption was essential for accommodat-
ing the theory’s treatment of classical-type sonata forms, where the reca-
pitulation normally coincides with the Ursatz’s restatement. Interruption
also appears at more foreground levels in connection with a transferred
Ursatz, especially in antecedent–consequent periods. Though the bass
fifth of an interrupted Ursatz resembles those of dividers (since neither
continues to the tonic), a divider does not necessarily have to be followed by
7
Schenker states in Der freie Satz that the two outer-voice pitches opening the restatement of the
Ursatz after interruption represent a new beginning, not a resolution of the interrupted
components. The Urlinie’s first 2̂ , after descending from 3̂ (3̂ –2̂ ), does not for example function as
lower neighbor to the restatement’s opening 3̂ , nor is the bass fifth accompanying it resolved by
the tonic that accompanies the returning 3̂ . The Ursatz, in other words, is truly “interrupted.”
115
Example 2.15 Coupling with interrupted Ursatz and linear progression
a completed restatement, nor must it occur with an Urlinie-like linear

succession.8
A further assumption made by Schenker, deeply rooted in Western music
theory, is octave identity, according to which the same pitch in different
octaves is represented by a single pitch class. This idea is essential for most
music theories; but in Schenker’s case it not only allows pitch space to be
organized within the octave (as normal), but enables him in addition to
distinguish between a pitch’s analytical octave and its actual one. More
generally, it allows surface melodies that exceed the restricted registral
format of the Ursatz to be analyzed in terms of stepwise or arpeggiated
motion. Octave identity also gives rise to such basic Schenkerian concepts
as Höher- and Tiefererlegung and Kopplung, or “upper and lower register
transfer” and “coupling,” all of which involve octave transfer. The restricted
format of the Urlinie, for example, can thereby be transferred to a higher
or lower octave through embellishment of one or more of its pitches; and
similarly, an inner voice can actually appear at a higher or lower position
than the one analytically specified as the top voice (see Example 2.15).
Indeed, tonal motion in the music Schenker addresses always exploits
octave transference and can only be treated in its terms.
A closely related idea, compound melody, while not invented by Schenker,
acquires special meaning in his work. As opposed to the theoretical melodies
that are specified, actual melodies more often than not elaborate multiple
triadic tones, moving freely from one to another; and this means, analytically,
that they contain more than one harmonic voice. Compound melody thus
allows Schenker to project the underlying triad throughout a wider musical
space without compromising its theoretical identity.
There is also the possibility, referred to previously, of treating a disso-
nance as a temporary consonance. The next-to-last verticality of the actual
Ursatz is always a dissonant passing tone at the Ursatz level; but when
treated as a consonance, it can be elaborated – for example by a transposed
Ursatz – to acquire the meaning of a dominant key. And since any
8
The fact that interruption seems inconsistent with other aspects of Schenker’s theory is
discussed in Section 2 of Chapter 10 (pp. 206–09).
116
28 Theory
Example 2.16 Stufe as representation of a larger harmonic progression
temporarily consonant chord can be treated as stable, any harmony can

serve as the basis for further compositional unfolding (see Example 2.9).
Returning to the Stufe, or scale degree, we have seen that it gives rise to
harmonic elaboration. While the labeling of chords according to a particular
scale degree in a diatonic system – say as a I, V or ii – has been common
for some two centuries, Schenker’s concept of Stufe goes well beyond this,
indicating the total span of time in which one chord functions as the primary
harmonic control for a series of prolonging harmonies (see Example 2.16).
The Stufe was introduced early in Schenker’s development, providing
an important basis for the evolution of the concept of prolongation. More
particularly, it indicated an early interest in subsuming diverse musical
elements under a single theoretical concept.
A particularly fundamental idea for Schenker is Vertretung, or “substitu-
tion”: the representation of an event not actually present by one that is.
Like the principle of pattern recognition in Gestalt psychology, to which it
is closely related, substitution assumes that once a pattern is projected, it
remains psychologically “present” even when one or more components is
omitted. This idea, whose provenance is essentially idealist, is vital for the
entire theory, helping to explain such all-important ideas as mental retention,
the use of a seventh (instead of a second) as the goal of a linear progression,
and the Stufe as representative of an entire chord progression.9 Indeed,
substitution might be called the prime generator of Schenker’s theory,
whose transformational operations, including the Ursatz, all represent sub-
stitutions of simpler configurations (and ultimately the chord of nature) for
more complex ones.
Since Schenker’s theory is characterized not just by the use of individual
techniques derived from strict contrapuntal procedures, which we have
particularly focused upon in this chapter, but the extension of these techni-
ques to cover entire compositions, this aspect should be considered as well. It
is an extremely complicated matter, variable from piece to piece, and can be
only touched upon here. The following section (pp. 29–31), however, treats
the issue of consonance–dissonance distinction that can only be discussed
9
The German Vertretung neatly incorporates the meaning of both “substitution” and
“representation.” For an especially effective treatment of the concept, see Rothstein (1991).
117
with reference to different spans of time; and Section 7 (pp. 33–36) describes
a complete Schenker graph.
That contrapuntal procedures can be extended in Schenker’s theory
depends solely on its hierarchical aspect: each analytical layer contains the
contents of the previous one, so that each subsequent layer increases in
detail, a process that continues (at least in principle) until the actual piece
is reached. The Ursatz, then, is simply the first of a series of layers, all of
which relate to it and to each other through transformations similar to those
that defined its initial extension. Just how this works, however, necessarily
depends upon the nature of particular pieces.10
The theory’s purpose, then, is to account as specifically as possible for a
composition’s pitches in terms of their unfolding of the tonic triad. That
it thus relates to only a minute portion of the world’s actual music, as is
immediately evident to any musician, is the necessary result of one of
Schenker’s fundamental beliefs: that only a small canon of compositions
with a great deal in common and susceptible to detailed analytical explan-
ation can provide the complete musical truth demanded by his theory. This
is not only problematic in itself but radically restricts the theory’s scope.
One might of course take a more flexible approach, saying his canon was
chosen simply to fulfill the theory’s own particular purposes; but this was
not Schenker’s own view, which held that these compositions alone allowed
for the detailed scrutiny his theory prescribed. And it is hardly coincidental
that all of these works belonged to the “mainstream” of mid European
compositions, which formed such a significant component of the artistic
culture within which Schenker matured.
Consonance–dissonance distinctions
We now turn to one of the theory’s most striking general features, its
distinction between consonance and dissonance. As already noted, an
advantage for Schenker is that, despite innovations, his theory is grounded
in traditional contrapuntal procedures: all of his composing-out processes
and their combinations are consistent with the conventions of strict
counterpoint. And by showing that the theory conforms to the dictates of
strict counterpoint at the deeper layers of actual music (referred to as “free
10
In addition to the descriptions of complete Schenker graphs mentioned in fn. 1 of this
chapter, a more general discussion of the theory from a distant perspective is offered in the
last section of the final chapter (pp. 226–29).
118
30 Theory
composition”), he can explain entire compositions in terms of contrapuntal

relationships. Since the Ursatz uses strict contrapuntal procedures to resolve
its dissonant elements, and all musical motion derives from the Ursatz, it
too obeys the same contrapuntal commands that control all consonance and
dissonance relationships.
What is new in Schenker, then, is not so much the underlying conception
of consonance and dissonance, for he continues to rely upon well-defined
contrapuntal distinctions, but the temporal expanse over which they are
applied. The Urlinie progression, for example, extends over the complete
work, stretching the idea of passing motion to unprecedented lengths.
Contrapuntal rules, then, apply not just to the brief, controlled exercises
of strict counterpoint, but to spans that cover entire compositions.
The key to this expansion lies in the concept of mental retention, which,
in conjunction with the hierarchical relationships of the analytical layers,
allows dissonances at more background layers to be transformed and
composed-out as more foreground consonances. As noted, the second degree
of the Urlinie’s descent (2̂ ), supported by the fifth degree of the tonic triad
in the bass, is viewed as a dissonant passing tone at the Ursatz level before it
resolves to the tonic. But since the second degree appears as the upper part
of a perfect fifth, it can be temporarily stabilized at a lower level as part of a
quasi-independent dominant triad – tonicized, for example, as the opening
of a transferred Ursatz. Something dissonant at one level is treated as
consonant at another; and this is possible because of the listener’s ability,
due to mental retention, to mentally retain the fifth’s original function as
dissonance even though it is temporarily stabilized and thus initiates its
own linear progression. This process can be viewed, moreover, as either
generative (something unstable in the background is temporarily stabilized
in the foreground) or reductive (something stable in the foreground rep-
resents a more background dissonance).
The relationship between mental retention and strict counterpoint also
depends on the assumption that tones have egos whose spiritual tendencies
must be obeyed, as this enables Schenker to specify precisely what they do
in expanded circumstances. It also explains why dissonant intervals can
themselves be composed-out under certain conditions. Such “dissonant
prolongations” (a term Schenker does not himself use) exist in his work
only at relatively foreground levels, and only if the dissonant interval forms
a chordal dissonance whose role is sufficiently consistent to be considered
“normal” within traditional tonal harmony: the chords of a diminished
triad, diminished seventh, augmented sixth, half diminished seventh, and
dominant seventh. Though all contain at least one dissonance (diminished
119
fifth, augmented fourth, minor seventh, or diminished seventh), they can be

composed-out according to strict contrapuntal procedures, since they all
are derived from, and resolve to, a more background consonance.11
Notation
Having presented the basic features of Schenker’s theory, we now consider

it from a notational perspective, in terms of its graphic presentation. The
notational problem would be a traditional one if Schenker’s analyses were
presented primarily through language: that is, with words primarily devised
for other purposes. But since the theory is largely based on conventional
contrapuntal assumptions, the problem becomes both different and more
complex. The theory’s most basic premise, for example, the unfolding of
the tonic triad, takes place according to well-understood musical opera-
tions: passing motion in the top voice and arpeggiation in the bass; and all
subsequent motions are derived from these, allowing the theory to be partly
communicated through standard musical notation. Yet since actual music is
not its primary analytical concern, but the underlying prolongational struc-
ture, conventional notation has to be significantly refashioned.
This required the development of an original graphic representation that,
while based upon traditional conventions, was intended for completely
different purposes. To some extent this problem was also found in previous
music theories, which commonly combine traditional notation with added
theoretical indications: Roman numerals for harmonic functions, words
or letters for sectional divisions, or brackets – often in combination with
letters – for thematic correspondences. But in that case notation is retained
either in its traditional form or appears in a simplified version (for example,
reduced textually to indicate the underlying harmonic structure, or to a
single staff containing the principal melody).
Since Schenker’s theory depends upon musical relationships that are
hierarchical and thus substantially different from those found in previous
theories or in “normal” musical notation (which was designed, above all,
as an aid to performers), its graphic presentation had to be rethought as
a sequence of transformational prolongations. Schenker consequently
devised a graphic form that, while adopting traditional notation, rearranged
11
Given the hierarchical relationships among layers, it follows, however, that a more background
consonance cannot be converted into a more foreground dissonance, or a more foreground
dissonance into a more background consonance.
120
32 Theory
its staves to form a series of structural layers beginning with the Ursatz
and descending through subsequent ones. Since these staves were aligned
hierarchically, they produced a readily-read representation of the overall
pitch structure, both simultaneous and comprehensive. Though each layer
contained one or more normal staves, it included the linear and arpeggiated
progressions that formed the prolongational operations assigned to that
level.
Schenker did not develop an absolutely fixed method of graphic notation,
and he offered little written information about how an analysis should be
notated. Refusing to commit himself to a single analytical approach, the
graphs, even in his final publication, differ widely according to purpose.
Nevertheless, he developed a manner of notation that allowed any musician
with basic theoretical information and rudimentary knowledge of his theory
to follow his sketches. And certain basic principles did become apparent,
perhaps the most important being that notes belonging together are slurred;
and the durational value of a note reflects its structural significance, with
longer values representing more important events and shorter ones less
important ones. But even this can be compromised. Stems, for example,
combine with notes in signaling greater priority (their height connecting
them to others of similar importance), or beams combine with stems in
indicating more important linear or arpeggiated units. Similarly, an eighth-
note flag can be attached to a stem to suggest its relative prominence.12
Despite being confined to pitch organization, Schenker’s theory depends
heavily upon his knowledge of overall musical structure, especially its
rhythmic and formal aspects, in determining which pitch relationships are
chosen and where they occur. In referring to such non-theoretical matters,
however, Schenker normally uses extensive verbal commentary in connec-
tion with his graphs, rather than the graphs themselves. In 1932, however,
he published five analyses that consisted of graphic notation alone, and
stated in the brief introduction – though to my knowledge uniquely there
and in letters related to its publication (which also mention in this con-
nection the graphs for Beethoven’s Third Symphony) – that his analyses had
reached a point where they could be presented solely in graphic form.13
In saying this, he seemed to suggest that the graphs contained all essential
theoretical information. As will become evident, this appears mistaken to
me, as Schenker’s graphs require constant explanation. Nor does it seem
12
A useful introduction to the evolution of this part of Schenker’s graphing technique is found
in Renwick (1988).
13
Schenker (1932/1969b), p. 9. Siegel (2006) provides a helpful introduction to the history and
significance of this publication.
121
likely that he himself believed, except perhaps at this one moment, that they
could stand alone.
Like the theory itself, Schenker’s notational system developed gradually,
its growth evident primarily in the final monograph and issues of Der
Tonwille and Das Meisterwerk. The evolution from single-layered graphs
to multiple-layered ones, notated with ever more specialized indications,
reflects Schenker’s increasingly hierarchical conception of musical struc-
ture, as well as the growing number of transformational operations needed.
This development is discussed mainly in Chapters 7 and 8, as part of the
development of the final theory, which necessarily required a systematic and
innovative manner of graphic display.
A Schenker graph
The graph of the C-major Prelude from Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier I, one
of the Five Graphic Music Analyses mentioned previously, can serve as both
an example of Schenker’s notational practices and a more concrete indication
of how his theory works (see Example 2.17).14
This graph, a late, multilayered analysis of a short composition with a
relatively small number of elaborations, is not only relatively easy to read
but also representative of Schenker’s mature theory.
Of the three aligned layers, the upper two contain one staff and the third
two. The top staff has the piece’s Ursatz (so labeled), which is notated in
open notes with capped numbers in the top voice, while the chordal inner
voices are included but notated only as black notes. The middle staff, labeled
1. Schicht (“first layer”), contains a number of the most important middle-
ground elaborations of the underlying triad: an octave coupling downwards
from e2 to e1 in the top voice elaborating the first Urlinie tone (indicated by
the German abbreviation Kopp. abw., for “coupling downwards”); a lower-
neighbor chord (IV), above which e1 is suspended before resolving to d1,
anticipating the second Urlinie tone an octave lower as the bass proceeds
to G (V); an octave coupling from d1 to the Urlinie d2 (abbreviated Kopp.
aufw., for “coupling upwards”); the opening third of this coupling to f 1,
(abbreviated Brech: V 5−7, for “arpeggiation V 5−7”); the resolution of f 1 to e1
over the Ursatz bass C; the elaboration of e1 with two upper neighbors; the
continuation of the d1 coupling to d2, which appears above the second upper
neighbor; and the descent from d2 to c2, the last note of the Urlinie. (There
14
Schenker (1932/1969b), pp. 36–37.
122
34 Theory
Example 2.17 J. S Bach: Prelude no. 1 in C major, graph (Schenker 1932/1969b,

pp. 36–37)
123
is an inconsistency in this graph: on the one hand, the Urlinie tone d2 is

suspended with f 1 over the bass C in accord with d’s octave coupling, the
bass C being anticipated four measures early; but on the other, the bass C
appears with e1 and begins an arpeggiated prolongation of e1 to c2, abbre-
viated Brech: I3−8, for “arpeggiation I3−8,” in which case d2 is only a
dissonant upper neighbor to c2.)
The third layer, 2. Schicht, contains both middleground and foreground
features and includes the original barlines. Unusually, the motion is here
reduced to whole-note chords presented in largely traditional notation, a
result of the simplicity of surface figuration and straightforwardness of
harmonic rhythm and overall prolongation. The opening octave coupling
is here shown to consist of two descending linear outer-voice spans, e2 to e1
and c1 to C, indicated by dotted slurs in mm. 1–19 and further divided into
fourth- and fifth-spans (“Quartzug” and “Quintzug”), each notated with
slurs. The word Oberdezimen over the top voice (repeated for the second
span) indicates that it is “upper tenth,” which the bass leads, since it alone
of the two outlines the underlying C-major chord (c1 to G, and G to C).
The six departures from downward stepwise motion in the outer voices of
mm. 1–19 are indicated with black notes, slurs, and eighth-note flags that
form two eight-measure phrases of three rising two-note patterns: the first
mm. 4–5, 6–7, 10–11 and the second mm. 12–13, 14–15, 18–19 (the three
pairs in each group are numbered 1, 2, and 3, with the first two beginning
the phrase and the last one closing it). The lines in mm. 6–7 and 8–9 indicate
chordal resolutions; while the arrows in mm. 11–15 indicate voice-leading,
from B down to G chromatically.15
The remainder of this layer is readily understood in relation to the two
previous ones and poses no special problems. Its relationship to the second
graph in mm. 24–31 is nevertheless notable, as the former’s d1 to f1 arpeg-
giation is elaborated with various passing and neighbor motions. The Stufen
indications beneath the second and third graphs are typical, with Roman
numerals indicating harmony and Arabic numerals voice-leading. In addi-
tion, the numbers between staves in the final layer denote four-measure
rhythmic groupings, the first measure counted four times as a result of
Dehnung (“stretching”) of the prolonged C-major chord.
This graph thus contains not only theoretical information about the
pitches but non-theoretical information about the rhythmic and phrase
15
There is obviously a typographical error in m. 15, where the arrow should indicate that the
right hand’s middle voice is g1 and its lowest voice c1 (as in Bach’s score), so that m. 15 forms a
diatonic sequence with m. 13, as does m. 14 with m. 12.
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36 Theory
relationships supporting them. The latter, though not normally included

in Schenker graphs, are perhaps indicated here because of absence of an
accompanying text.
The final theory and Schenker’s development
We end this chapter by considering the final theory in relation to Schenker’s

overall development. There is a widespread tendency to think of him
mainly in terms of his mature theory, and thus as someone committed to
the ideal of universal laws completely controlling the motion of pitches. Yet
initially Schenker did not believe that music had a rational basis. This was
the position taken in his important early article “Der Geist der musikali-
schen Technik,” published in 1895 before he turned to music theory. This
article claimed that music is basically non-scientific and non-organic. The
first chapter of Part II’s survey of Schenker’s development begins with it, as
it was written before he turned to music theory as such and at a point when
he considered musical form to be essentially thematic in nature, with no
rational principle to control thematic succession. Thus all “modern” music,
he believed, was “non-organic.”
It is notable that Schenker’s subsequent theoretical development, which
is traced in the remaining chapters of Part II, came after the “anti-organic”
position expressed in this early article. But as we shall see, the ideas expressed
in it led him in fact to explain music precisely in terms of what he had
previously denied: that music possesses organic coherence. It required a
fundamental change of Schenker’s view of musical content, shifting his
conception of form from a thematic one to a contrapuntal one. It required
that music be explained primarily in terms of voice-leading, which he came
to see as solely responsible for bringing its harmonic foundation to life.
Even in his earliest theoretical works, Schenker seems to have regarded
the contrapuntal discipline as law-like; and his entire later development can
be seen as an attempt to extend the principles of the discipline to control
large-scale musical succession. As will be evident, however, this process was
a long and uncertain one, yet one that not only eventually led to his final
theory but was uncommonly interesting in its own right. The later Schenker
believed that by expanding traditional contrapuntal principles he could
explain something no previous theorist had imagined: that the detailed
pitch structure of great compositions could itself express their tonal basis.
This meant that a tonal piece was not simply in a key, but defined and
realized that key by bringing it to life through its own tonal operations.
125
The final theory, above all in its presentation in Der freie Satz, is thus
devoted to showing how this is accomplished. A crucial aspect of this
explanation is that it can be achieved only through analytical means, placing
musical specificity and work-orientation among the theory’s most impor-
tant attributes. Indeed, these elements are so characteristic of the final
theory that one wonders whether its primary concern is musical ontology –
what music is – or musical analysis – how music is put together. Schenker’s
response, I suspect, would be that the two are inseparable: that what music
is can be grasped only by understanding how individual compositions
are constructed; and how individual compositions are constructed can be
grasped only by understanding what music is.
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ERIC WEN
A DISG ISED REMINISCENCE IN THE

FIRST MOVEMENT OF MO ART'S
G MINOR SYMPHONY
One of the fundamental differences between sonata form movements in

minor and those in major is the modal contrast of similar thematic materi-
al at the end of the exposition and recapitulation. nlike sonata move-
ments in major which usually cadence on the dominant harmony at the
end of the exposition, sonata movements in minor cadence on the
mediant.' Since the thematic material at the end of the recapitulation re-
turns in the tonic key there will be a contrast of mode between the end of
the recapitulation and the exposition in sonata movements in minor be-
cause the mediant harmony is a major chord.2 Thus not only is the thema-
tic material at the end of the recapitulation in another key from that of the
exposition, a situation which also arises in sonata movements in major, but
the modal presentation of the thematic material is different as well.
Because of the different arrangement of scale degrees in the major and
minor modes it is often impossible to transpose directly from one mode to
the other. Composers will, therefore, frequently be forced to make slight
adjustments and there is the potential in these recompositions to express
subtle musical ideas and connections. Mozart often makes a direct associ-
ation between the second themes in the exposition and recapitulation of
his sonata movements in minor. The thematic material in the recapitu-
lation is often rewritten in order to bring back literally the same sequence
of notes in the parallel passage of the exposition.
In the Piano Concerto in C minor, K.491, the opening notes of the
closing theme at the end of the exposition in Eb major are echoed in the
recomposition of the same theme in the recapitulation. Instead of trans-
posing the passage in the exposition down a minor third into C minor in
the recapitulation, Mozart rewrites the theme so that it starts on scale
degree 3 instead of I (Ex. 1). The result of this alteration allows for the
same notes to be used but in a totally different context.
In the Piano Sonata in C minor, K.457, Mozart recomposes part of the
second theme in the recapitulation in order to preserve the chromatic
M SIC ANALYSIS 1: 1, 1982 55
162
ERIC WEN
r- IF
motion inherent in the theme itself. In the exposition

matically fills out the space of a major third between
Within the eight-bar theme in Eb major the chromat
tween scale degrees 1 and 2 and scale degrees 2 and 3
ticulated on the down beats of the second and sixth bars. Since the dis-
tance between scale degrees 1 and 3 is a minor third in the minor mode
there is no possibility of placing a chromatic passing tone between scale
degrees 2 and 3 when the theme appears in C minor in the recapitulation
In order to preserve the chromatic line Mozart recomposes the theme by
enlarging the distance spanned to a perfect fifth. By doing this he is ab
to bring in chromatic passing notes between scale degrees i and 2 an
scale degrees 4 and 5 at the same points as in the exposition (Ex. 2). Of
course the result of this is that the same notes are used in the same part o
the theme in the recapitulation as in the exposition. The closing gesture o
Ex.2
E: P 2 . P 3
c: P 2 3 4 P 5
the second theme

the exposition; in
same note, c2 (Ex.
Ex.3
Not only part of the thematic material in the exposition but the har-
mony as well is recalled in the recapitulation of the Piano Concerto in D
minor, K.466 (Ex. 4). nlike the parallel passage in the exposition in F
major, the beginning of the second phrase of the second theme in the
recapitulation in D minor does not prolong the II harmony because of the
56 M SIC ANALYSIS 1:1, 1982
163
FIRST MOVEMENT OF MO ART'S G MINOR SYMPHONY
awkwardness of the diminished fifth inherent in the chord. Mozart alters

the harmonic support of this phrase in the recapitulation and brings back a
literal quotation of the same phrase used in the exposition. Here the same
melodic phrase and chord are used but in the different contexts of the
exposition and recapitulation.
Because of the subtle shift of emphasis given to different notes these
recompositions will often have a structural significance in the tonal or-
ganization of the movement. This paper will examine a similar recomposi-
tion and its significance in perhaps the greatest sonata form movement in
minor by Mozart - the first movement of the G minor Symphony.3 In the
recapitulation of the second theme of this symphony Mozart creates a
most dramatic, though disguised, reminiscence of an event in the expo-
sition.
The second theme of the first movement begins in b. 44 in the key of
the mediant, Bb major. It is an eight-bar theme divided into two four-bar
phrases and is repeated in an expanded form in bs 52-66. Ex. 5 presents
an analytic reduction of the first statement of the theme. The initial tonic
chord is not stated in root position but in first inversion in order to have
Ex.5
S V7 I (V ) - ---. (
-- -- / IV II6 V' I 5 6
164
ERIC WEN
Ex.6 db c db c
db Cd c d.!c
the bass motion d' - c1 in b. 44. This two note

DLb - C successions immediately preceding it in
The melodic motion over the first phrase of the second theme (bs
44-47) spans a descending fourth and the phrase ends on a back-relating
(or dividing) V which serves to extend the opening tonic. Since this V
functions as a divider the initial structural harmonic progression moves
from the opening I in b. 44 to the IV at the beginning of the second
phrase in b. 48. The rhythmic parallelism in the top voice of the beginning
of the two phrases further associates these two bars.
Ex. 7 shows how the harmonic motion over the beginning of the second
Ex. 7 eb d c (g f)ebd c
5- 6 F.- ,!8 10 6 (8) 10 6
IV Il
phrase (bs 48-50) derives from a 5-6 contrapuntal motion an
tonic chord on the last beat of b. 49 essentially supports a pa
The top voice motion over bs 48-50 is essentially that of
third from Eb to C and the G and F preceding it allow a mot
tenths with the bass. The C reached in the top voice at b. 50
in the following bar and thereby produces another descent
the top voice of the second phrase (bs 48-51) which parallels
first phrase. The two linear progressions of a descending fo
D - C and (G - F) Eb - D - C - Bb, combine to subdivi
descent of a fifth over the entire second theme. This motion down a fifth
to Bb in the upper voice, however, is not the structural melodic descent
from the f2 (3) which opens the second theme. The main structural top
voice f2 (5) is retained over the course of the first statement of the second
theme through to the beginning of the repeated statement in b. 52 and the
g2 at the beginning of b. 48 functions over this prolongation of f2 as its
upper neighbour.
The expanded repetition of the second theme (bs 52-66) is analysed in
Ex. 8. Its first four bars are essentially the same as those of the preceding
statement of the theme and the substitution of a II6 chord instead of IV in
b. 56 is incidental as it does not effect the basic voice leading. At b. 58,
however, a IV harmony with a lowered seventh appears instead of a II6
and this change alters the course of the repeated statement of the second
165
47 6
I V I (V (-) C?P,
(-IV) I -II6 IV7 ?IV7 V

theme. The lowered seventh over IV, Db, connects back to the Eb in the
116 chord of b. 56 as a passing seventh which leads eventually to the C in
the V chord in b. 65. The IV chord with the lowered seventh above it is
sustained over bs 58-61 and decorated by six-four chords. Though this
chord functions in the broader context as IV17 it becomes momentarily
transformed into -a dominant seventh chord which suggests Ab major a
tonic and thus the overriding context of Bb major, the main key of this
section, is temporarily suspended (Ex. 9).4 The Ab chords in six-four
position in bs 58-61 are not only decorative offshoots from the main trac
but create a premature resolution of the top voice Db to C. The original
context resumes in b. 62 with the return of the IV17 chord without its
six-four embellishment.
A diminished seventh chord appears directly after the IV17 chord in b.
62 and also relates back to the 116 chord in b. 56. It results from the
simultaneous inflection of the bass voice from Eb to E& and the passing
seventh, D b, iin the top voice of the IV17 chord preceding it (Ex.10a). The
cadential six-four chord in b. 64 which immediately precedes the domi-
nant chord is an interpolation which slightly delays the proper resolution
of the top voice of the diminished seventh chord, Db, to its goal tone, C,
by interpolating D between them (note the brackets around the d&2 over
the V harmony in Ex. 10a). A comparison of Exs 10a and 10b shows how
Ex.9
b: IV V Ab) V
E .x (6-x.
II6 IV 7 V I IV II6 V I
M SIC ANALYSIS 1:1, 1982 59
166
ERIC WEN
the repetition of the second theme in the exposition chromatically

the descending third, ELb - C, leading from the beginning of th
phrase to the V in b. 65.
Because of the clear melodic descent of scale degrees 3-2-1 in
voice supported by the strong cadence in bs 64-66 one would exp
closure of the fundamental line of the second theme to be made at this
point. Scale degree 4 is not stated strongly enough, however, for a rea
structural descent to be effected, and the descent down to Bb in the t
voice of the expanded statement of the second theme is a motion into a
inner voice which occurs under the retained top voice F (5). The struc
al melodic descent from 5 which is held over the second theme occurs o
during the course of the closing theme (bs 72ff). Ex. 11 shows how th
Ex.11 5N
Lf - j I
SIV V I IV V
I VI II I
detail of
ars 68-70
60 M SIC ANALYSIS 1: 1, 1982
167
descent from 5 is completed at the end of the exposition and how the
closing theme is structurally related to the apparently self-contained
second theme.5 In the structural melodic descent, note the association,
both registral and harmonic, of the neighbour note g3 supported by the IV
chord in b. 70 back to b. 56. In bs 72-76 scale degree 5 is re-articulated in
the winds and the melodic descent from 4 to 3 is made in the expressive
bass suspensions. In bs 77-78 the descent from scale degree 4 to 3 is made
in the original register of 5 (f2) articulated in b. 52 by the first violins.
This almost insistent reiteration poignantly recalls the opening motive of
the movement and leads into the chord of G minor, though now in the
context of Bb major.6 In the repeated statement of the closing theme the
suspended 4 - 3 melodic descents are placed in the top voice instead of the
bass (bs 80-84).
As in the exposition the second theme in the recapitulation is stated
twice and is expanded in the second statement. An analytic reading of the
first statement of the theme is presented in Ex. 12. The tonal organization
5 6
Ex.2 -
-E 5-(6)
- IV ) V I
5 6
of bs 231-23
48-49), sinc
exposition i
the beginn
the II6 chor
position ov
beat of the bar. This tonic chord is extended through b. 232 where it
moves down to root position. Because of its emphasis and articulation the
diminished seventh chord which begins the second phrase is not an em-
bellishment of the tonic chord following it. It actually represents a IV
harmony and thus echoes the harmonic progression of the parallel place in
the exposition. Often a diminished seventh chord will represent a IV har-
mony whose inner parts, as Ex. 13 demonstrates, are decorated by neigh-
bour notes.7 The tonic chord following the diminished seventh chord
functions like the tonic chord in b. 49 of the exposition and gives conson-
ant support to the passing seventh in the top voice leading to II6 at the
168
ERIC WEN
Ex13
8 7 6 8 10 6 (8) 10 6
IV II6 ( IV) II6

c e p,4e c
Ex.14
fro. 8 10 6
IV
5 II6IV
6 I . 6
II
beginning of b. 2
thus IV - II6, the
The foreground r
chromatic line in the top voice to be preserved. As shown in Ex. 14, a
direct transposition of the parallel bars in the exposition would have
necessitated the repetition of c2 on the third beat. In the recomposition the
bW over the I chord on the third beat is a chromatic inflection of BL, and
the III chord supporting the b1' on the fourth beat grows out of a 5-6
contrapuntal motion from the G chord as the top voice makes the chroma-
tic inflection of B? to Bb (Ex. 15). Thus, though the second phrase of the
Ex.15
5 6) frO 5 6
second theme in the recapitulation substitutes a diminished seventh

for a IV harmony leading to II6, the contrapuntal 5-6 motion whic
curred over the parallel bars in the exposition is not forsaken. Ins
literally paralleling the 5-6 motion of the chord progression IV
the exposition, Mozart alternatively creates a 5-6 motion from the
harmony on the third beat of b. 232 which results in a chord sucess
- VI. The voice-leading function of the Eb chord on the last beat o
is to prepare the inner voice Eb of the II6 chord which follows.
The second statement of the second theme in the recapitulation is
more expanded than in the exposition and contains an aspect of pr
tion which is significantly different. As in the first statement, th
169
chord which follows the diminished seventh chord representing a IV

mony in b. 239 gives consonant support to a passing seventh leading
II6. The II6 is omitted in the expanded repetition of the second them
however, and is replaced by four bars of seventh chords decorated by
four chords (bs 241-244). Though this follows the procedure which o
in the expanded statement of the second theme in the exposition,
unusual situation which arises in the recapitulation is the transpositi
level of these seventh chords. Though the second themes in the expos
and recapitulation are a minor third apart, this four-bar passage in t
recapitulation is transposed down a perfect fourth from the parallel
in the exposition (bs 58-61). Because of the altered transpositional leve
four-bar passage does not connect back to the diminished seventh ch
representing a IV harmony at the beginning of b. 239 as a reinterpr
passing seventh chord: it relates instead to the Eb chord immediately
ceding it as its dominant seventh harmony. The six-four chords whi
decorate the seventh chords also refer back to the Eb chord and serv
extend it in the form of consonant second inversions of the same chord
(Ex. 16). In this context the six-four chords are structurally related to the
Ex. 16
passage and not offshoots as they were in the exp

example of how a passage can have a different m
context.9
The question now arises as to the meaning of this Eb harmony which is
expanded in the recapitulation. In order to determine its significance it is
necessary to examine the overall tonal organization of the expanded repeti-
tion of the second theme in the recapitulation (bs 235-254). Since the
opening phrase ends on a dividing V, the initial structural harmonic pro-
gression moves from I in b. 235 to the diminished seventh chord in b. 239.
The large-scale harmonic progression continues from the diminished sev-
enth chord representing IV to the V harmony in b. 252. This V harmony
is immediately preceded by a diminished seventh chord whose outer
voices derive from a large-scale voice exchange, with the diminished sev-
enth chord representing IV in b. 239 (Ex. 17). In the foreground the di-
minished seventh chord in b. 251 grows out of a 5-6-0 contrapuntal
motion from the Eb chord on the last beat of b. 240 (Ex. 18). This Eb
chord, which itself derives from a 5-6 contrapuntal motion from the G
chord on the third beat of b. 240, thus serves in the long run to prepare
170
ERIC WEN
5N5
I IV c-P V
5N P .. N
Ex.18
(V) - - - - -
VI I v
I IV V I
the diminished seventh chord

voice-leading function similar
Instead of preparing II6, howev
chord immediately preceding the V in b. 252. Ex. 19 presents a fore-
ground analytic reduction of the expanded second theme in the recapitu-
lation. The tonic harmony in b. 240 essentially supports a passing D in the
top voice leading from Eb in b. 239 to C in b.251. The Bb over the Eb
chord on the last beat of b. 240 leads to the c 3 in b. 251 as a motion from
an inner voice.
The structural organization of the expanded statement of the se
171
theme in the recapitulation relates closely to the antecedent part of

first theme of the movement (bs 1 - 21). After the expansion of ton
harmony over the opening nine bars of the movement the diminished
enth chord in b. 10 (and 12) represents a IV which leads through a v
exchange between the bass and an inner part to the augmented sixth
in b. 15.10 The G minor tonic chord in first inversion in b. 11 (an
supports a passing note D in the inner part between the IV and augm
ted sixth chord and prepares the top voice Bb by bringing it in initia
the bass (Ex. 20). The elaboration of the progression from IV to an a
mented sixth chord by the interpolation of a tonic chord is the basi
the tonal motion of bs 235 - 254 in the recapitulation. Ex. 21 shows th
Ex.20
I IV V I IV V
I IV V
Ex.,2.
I IV P V V
Eb E
172
ERIC WEN
similarity between the two passages. The chromatic inflection of E? t

in the bass of bs 14 - 15 is inverted in the large scale bass motion fro
b. 240 to 251.
In the progression shown in Ex. 18 one would usually expect a retention
of the bass note Eb in b. 251 to form an augmented sixth instead of a
diminished seventh chord immediately preceding the V. In addition to
recalling the bass motion of bs 14-15, the inflection of Eb to E? has a very
specific purpose in that it allows for a most subtle recollection of the
parallel passage in the exposition. By inflecting the bass to create a di-
minished seventh chord instead of an augmented sixth chord Mozart
makes an association of the diminished seventh chord in b. 251 back to
that in b. 63. These two diminished seventh chords which immediately
precede the cadential six-four chords at the end of the second theme
in the exposition and recapitulation are enharmonic equivalents. Not
only do they sound the same but they both derive from chromatic
inflections of an Eb chord in root position. In both passages the bass
motion leading to the diminished seventh chord moves up a chromatic
semitone from 'Eb to E?. The top-voice notes of the diminished seventh
chords both derive from the same note, Eb. In the exposition Eb descends
a major second to Db and in the recapitulation Eb moves down a dimin-
ished third to C (Ex. 22).
Ex.2 e
-A L 6 -- - -1
9: IV V IV IVV7 lV7 V
Mozart's elaboration of the Eb chord on

chromatic inflection in the bass which pr
stead of an augmented sixth chord in b. 2
subtle association between the second them
itulation. nlike the literal recall of pitch
sonata form movements in minor, the rec
in this recapitulation is enharmonically d
four different resolutions through enhar
seventh chord is exploited most dramat
sonata movement where statements of t
recapitulation are a minor third apart.
The enharmonic association of C and
173
significant throughout the entire movement. The raised subdominant scale

degree ( 4) is the most frequent chromatic inflection in any major or
minor key since it emphasizes 5, the most essential step in defining a key,
as its leading note. This leading-note motion to scale degree 5 is an in-
herent tendency of the Lydian mode and often appears in the earliest
stages of a composition.12
The strength of the dominant scale degree is such that chromatic de-
scents from it are usually notated as 5 - 4 - . 13 Since scale degrees i
and 5 are the cornerstones of a given tonality, alterations of their leading
notes are avoided - a descending chromatic motion from 5 to 4 through
b5 within the context of the tonic key is rare, as is the lowering of scale
degree i to bi. The lowering of 5 does occur in certain situations such as
modulation (Ex. 23). Generally though, this lowering appears much more
Ex.23 Ex.24 ct d d
frequently in pieces in m
dissonant with every othe
form a consonant interval
a piece in the minor mod
context of the mediant har
The notes C and D b,
throughout thefirst mov
antecedent statement of t
part of an augmented six
16-20 in the emphatic emb
neighbour. Later in the exp
mony, C is enharmonica
bs 58-61 (violins I). At the
followed by D and thus in
interpolation between DLb
In the recapitulation, whe
cumbs to C?. Though Db
reappears as C when G m
the parallel place to bs 34
C -D now occurs in the recapitulation (Ex. 24, compare with Ex. 6). In
ironic contrast to bs 63-64 where Db led to DM in the upper voice, the
top-voice motion of the second theme in the recapitulation uses C as a
chromatic passing tone between D and C (bs 227-228). Though the con-
text of G minor prohibits the notation of Db, the C now behaves like a
Db in that it descends to Ch.
174
ERIC WEN
One final appearance of Db occurs in b. 248 where it is fo

bass of a Bb minor chord in first inversion. This appearance,
only a passing occurrence which is swept away within the lar
motion leading ultimately to C? in the top voice in b. 251. In
it is as if the overriding tonal motion were too powerful for t
tempt of Db (a reminiscence of the lowered third of the III ch
exposition) to re-establish itself. The top voice motion of bs 251-252,
cg3-d '3, which was emphasized so insistently at the very outset of the
movement in bs 16-20, is thus a dramatic reassertion of that final inevit-
able domination of C: (? ) over Db (b5) within the context of G minor.

This moment is, in a deep way, the climactic gesture of the movement, in
which the dramatic conflict between C? and D is resolved. After this
point, D never reappears.
Ex. 25 presents the final structural melodic descent of the recapitu-
-bars 288-289
V I IV V I IV
4 3 2 1
eb d
IV VW I
lation. The final cadential progre

the exposition (I VI 1116V I) an
scale degree in the bass. Thoug
completed in b. 276, scale degr
allows for a return in the coda o
of the melodic descent down a f
281-287 of the coda to the end
the top voice leads up chromatic
175
1 1 1
Ex. 26 - bars 265-6
-bars 265-6 Tvn II)
I I I
I V I
detail of bass
in bars 279-281
sixth from d3 to f:2 before closing on the tonic g2.'5 Not only are these
bars a recollection of what went on before, but bs 287ff. are reminiscent of
the final cadence supporting the structural melodic descent in bs 265-268
(and bs 273-276). A comparison of the reduction of the coda in Ex. 26
with that of Ex. 25 reveals the close association between them. The leap
up to c3 in the first violins in b. 289 poignantly emphasizes the natural
form of scale degree 4 which must reassert itself in the final descent down
to the tonic. It neutralizes, finally, the potent 4 which occurred so dra-
matically throughout the movement.
NOTES
1. This results from the natural tendency of pieces in minor to grav

the mediant because of the placement of the tritone in the natu
scale. See explanation in E. Aldwell and C. Schachter, Harmon
Leading, Vol. 1 (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1978)
193.
2. nless, of course, the end of the recapitulation is altered to he parallel major,

as, for example, in the first movement of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony,
Op. 67.
3. Heinrich Schenker wrote an invaluable essay on Mozart's G minor Sym-
phony in Das Meisterwerk in der Musik, Vol. 2 (Munich: Drei Masken Verlag,
176
ERIC WEN
1926). There are wonderful ideas presented in the analysis with extens
extremely informative discussions of the autograph manuscript and
formance. Though I have a different idea from Schenker about the re
lation of the first movement, my reading of the second theme in the
sition is very similar to his. I read F, not D, however, as the main m
note over this section and there are certain other differences in my
which relate to the closing theme, as will be shown later.
4. Similar contextual transformations of chromatically inflected chord
pecially the augmented sixth chord, into dominant seventh chords wh
extended and suggestive of other harmonies appear frequently in Mo
music. See, for example, the Piano Sonata in C minor, K.457, first mov
(bs 121-125), and the String Quintet in G minor, K.516, third movem
(bs 62-65).
5. One of the criticisms made by Wagner about Mozart was that his mus
strongly delineated into sections which are often artificially connecte
another. He writes:
In Beethoven's predecessors, even in symphonic movements, you still

find awkward spaces between principal melodic motives: Haydn usually
manged to make his transition passages very interesting and significant;
Mozart kept closen to the Italian model - time and again, one might
almost say as a general rule, he falls back upon stereotyped phrases
giving his movements the character of background music providing an
attractive noise to accompany conversations between attractive melodies
- at least, that is how those perpetually recurring, pompously fussy half-
closes in Mozart's symphonies strike me.
'Music of the Future,'
(trans. Robert Jacobs), in
Three Wagner Essays
(London: Eulenberg Books, 1979) pp. 37-38.
Though separate themes are clearly articulated in the music of Haydn and
Mozart there are often larger structural coherences which connect them or-
ganically. As shown in the analysis, bs 66-71, the passage which connects the
clearly delineated second and closing themes, are integrally related to the
structural unity of the end of the exposition. Often there will be deeper
threads which connect clearly articulated sections in a piece of music.
6. This recollection of the same motivic material in a different context is found
elsewhere in Mozart's music. In the Adagio movement in F minor of the
Piano Sonata in F major, K.280, for example, the opening neighbour-note
motive, C - D - C, is brought back in the context of Ab major following an
F minor chord in b. 21.
7. A detailed explanation of the use of a diminished seventh chord as a IV har-

mony is given in Aldwell-Schachter, Harmony and Voice Leading, Vol. 2, pp.
214-215.
8. Schenker, incidentally, has this interpretation of the diminished seve

chord as IV in his analysis of the symphony. Though he does not elaborat
on it in the text it is given implicitly in his rlinie-graph of the first mov
ment.
70 M SIC ANALYSIS 1: 1, 1982
177
9. Larry Laskowski's 'Context and Voice Leading: Influences on Thematic and

Tonal Structure', Theory and Practice, Vol. 4, No. 1, March 1979, pp. 15-
24, discusses this idea of alternative meanings for similar events in other
works.
10. This interpretation was initially suggested to me by Eytan Agmon of New

York in a discussion of his rhythmic analysis of the opening of the move-
ment.
11. The inflection of the bass note of an expected augmented sixth ch

chromatic semitone to produce a diminished seventh chord frequen
motivic significance in Mozart's music. In the second movement of t
Sonata in F major, K.280, for example, the bass inflection in b. 55 fore-
shadows the chromatic line in the top voice in the following bar, and in the
first movement of the Piano Sonata in D major, K.576, the motion e - f - f?
in the bass in b. 51 recalls e2 - e 2 - f?2 in the top voice of bs 49-50.
12. The chorale hymn 'Es ist genug' which was set by J. S. Bach in his Cantata
60, 'O Ewigkeit, du Donnerwort,' for example, uses 4 leading to 5 at the
very opening. Mozart, incidentally, parodies the premature use of in the
opening of the third movement of his Musical Joke, K.522. See also Schenk-
er's discussion of ascending linear progressions, particularly the section en-
titled 'Structure of the initial ascent,' in Part 2 (The Middleground) of Free
Composition (New York: Longman, 1979), pp. 45-46.
13. The opening of the Minuet movement of Mozart 'Jupiter' Symphony, K.551,
is notated in precisely this way. See also the explanation given by Aldwell-
Schachter, Harmony and Voice Leading, Vol. 2, pp.155-158.
14. Two other significant appearances of the III chord with the lowered third in
Mozart's music are found in his Piano Sonata in A minor, K.310 (bs 16-21)
and Piano Concerto in C minor, K.491 (b. 220ff.).
15. Schenker, Das Meisterwerk, p.117.
178
On the Subject of Schubert's nfinished

Symphony: Was bedeutet die Bewegung?
RICHARD K RTH
metric have
Interesting rhythmic and metric properties ambiguity that pervades the first move-
ment-and
not gone unnoticed in some of Schubert's com- that is the principal focus of the
positions, but those of the present
nfinished Sym-article-has never been thoroughly ex-
phony in B Minor (D. 759) have received amined little
or interpreted. Only Stefan Kunze has
concentrated inquiry.1 In particular, a mentioned
strikingit explicitly, remarking on a secret
restlessness, indecision between 4 and 8 move-
ment Bewegung . 2 Still, Kunze does not ex-
19th-Century Music III/1 (Summer 1999). ? bythe
plore Theobservation further; the present ar-
Regents of the niversity of California.
ticle therefore attempts to indicate the scope
and interpret
My thanks to Stephen McClatchie, David Metzer, and the significance of metric am-
Vera Micznik for their insightful comments on earlier drafts
bivalence in the first movement. Parts I and VI
of this paper.
of the article frame detailed commentary, in
'Arnold Feil's Studien zu Schuberts Rhythmik (Munich, parts II through V, that analyzes different met-
1966) offers insightful observations about rhythm and meter
in a wide range of Schubert's compositions, but not the
ric Bewegungen in the movement. Part I begins
nfinished Symphony. On the nfinished, Edward with a contemporaneous Schubert song relevant
T. Cone discusses some metric and harmonic properties of to the poetics of metric ambiguity, while part
the first movement's opening bass motto in Schubert's
nfinished Business, this journal 7 (1984), 222-32, and
VI explores how metric ambivalence contrib-
utes to the representation of an individual sub-
Carl Dahlhaus considers metric features of the symphony's
second movement in Studien zu romantischen jectivity in the first movement. The latter dis-
Symphonien, Jahrbuch des Staatlichen Instituts ffir
cussion is stimulated, in part, by observations
Musikforschung Preuffischer Kulturbesitz 1972 (Berlin,
1973), 104-10. For discussions of rhythm and Susan McClary
meter in has recently offered on the
symphony's
other individual compositions, see also Kurt von Fischer,second movement.
Von einigen Merkwiirdigkeiten in Franz Schuberts Metrik:
Eine Interpretationsstudie zum Moment musical C-Dur D
780/1, in Franz Schubert-Der Fortschrittliche?
Analysen-Perspectiven-Fakten, ed. Erich Wolfgang
Partsch (Tutzing, 1989), pp. 105-14; and John Glofcheskie,
Schubert's Notation of Accentual Hierarchy: Patterns of
Displacement and Conformity in the Structure of His First
Complete Piano Sonata (unpublished paper read in Paris 2 E ine geheime nruhe, nentschiedenheit zwischen 4-
at the conference L'6volution du style instrumental de und 6-Bewegung ; see Stefan Kunze, Franz Schubert:
Schubert, 13-15 October 1997). Sinfonie h-moll, nvollendete (Munich, 1965), p. 12.
179
19TH I though the prelude is notated unambiguously

CENT RY Several
in 4, the marking mit Verschiebung suggests
shared by
that the
the 4 metric sensation so
could be slightly
first movement
obscured in performance.6 Indeed, the harmonic
phony.3import Both
of the chromatic sixteenth-note
are motive
both set forth-after a short introduction-in a repeated in mm. 1-3 adds to this potential ob-
motion dominated for a time by the bass rhythm scurity, for the motive suggests but does not
IJ. JT7.4 Schubert first penned the song in project tonic harmony unambiguously: in fact,
March 1821, but made revisions for its first F , the fifth of the B-minor tonic triad, consis-
publication (in December 1822), probably dur- tently falls on metrically weak sixteenths, and
ing the same months as his work on the sym- the-metrically strong sixteenths instead project
phony (the autograph full score of which bearsB-D-D-FI-FI-G, a German augmented-sixth so-
the date 30 October 1822).5 Schubert's revision nority (spelled with F? instead of E ) that be-
of Suleika I during the period of work on the comes progressively more explicit as the bass
symphony is surely significant, especially sincereaches and sustains G in mm. 2-3. Moreover,
the Wanderer Fantasy (D. 760), written in the Fis (each a tritone from the preceding down-
November 1822, likewise returns to an earlier beat) consistently enter precisely at mid-mea-
song, Der Wanderer (D. 489). Suleika I, in its sure, making subtle cross-accents against the 3
two slightly different versions written beforescansion and increasing the harmonic and met-
and after the symphony, at once pre-dictsric tension in the introduction.
and re-verb-erates the B-Minor Symphony: The German sixth proceeds in m. 4 to a
dominant adorned and delayed by suspensions
the song adds words to music that is at times
reminiscent of the symphony, and its openingthat resolve in m. 5.7 The suspension disso-
question- Was bedeutet die Bewegung? -- nances heighten the rhetorical effect of the half
therefore motivates the present article, whichcadence as a form of question, and when the
directs the same question to the listener of thesinger enters two measures later she too poses
symphony's first movement. her own question: Was bedeutet die
To draw some initial observations from the Bewegung? (What does this motion signify?).
song, ex. 1 includes the five-measure piano pre- ntil we hear the poem continue, how can we
lude (in the revised version), its pianissimo as- know that this question refers to the stirrings
cent leading to a decorated half cadence. Al-of the East Wind and to the sensations and
feelings it arouses? When the singer first asks
her question, it can only refer to what precedes,
to the musical motions and gestures heard un-
til now; the reference, apparently, is to the
3The poem, by Marianne von Willemer, appeared whispering
in intimations of the piano prelude.
Goethe's West-6stlichem Divan. For commentary onAnd
the for a brief moment, until the singer con-
song, see Arnold Feil, Studien zu Schuberts Rhythmik, pp.
63-64; and Walter Gerstenberg, Schubertiade: tinues her discourse, the question also asks
whether such instrumental gestures and their
Anmerkungen zu einigen Liedern, in Festschrift Otto
Erich Deutsch zum 80 Geburtstag, ed. Walter Gerstenberg,
Jan LaRue, and Wolfgang Rehm (Kassel, 1963), pp. 232-39.
4Ludwig Misch discusses Schubert's fondness for this
rhythm in Ein Lieblingsmotiv Schuberts, Die
Musikforschung 15 (1962), 146-52.
'Maynard Solomon suggests that this date probably re-
fers, in conformity with the composer's custom, not to the
date on which sketching of the composition was started, 6Although mit Verschiebung is difficult to translate and
but to the date on which he began to write out the full interpret, it implies shifting, displacement, rearrangement,
score ; see Solomon, Schubert's ' nfinished' Symphony, postponement, etc. In this instance, Schubert's marking
this journal 21 (1997), 111-33, at p. 111. On the dating of seems to indicate a slightly agitated quasi ad libitum that
the song's two versions, see Otto Erich Deutsch, Franz blurs the relative values of beats and their subdivision of
Schubert: Thematisches Verzeichnis seiner Werke in the measure.
7A similar preparation and embellishment of the domi-
chronologischer Folge (rev. edn. Kassel, 1978), pp. 424-25;
the autograph for the revised version is missing, so nant
the will soon be observed in mm. 18-21 of the sym-
revisions cannot be dated precisely. phony.
180
Ewas lebhaft. RICHARD

K RTH
Singstimme t Schubert's
nfinished
A I
Pianoforte Mit Vertschiebung
920- . . , --y- IL, - - .. .---y

. . .. , ?- - . rn
Was be - deut - tet die Be - we - gung?
sempre ligato - .
Example 1: Schubert, Suleika I, D. 720, mm. 1-9.
Bewegungen can ever signify (bedeuten) in any the weak parts of beats two and three in 4
sense other than the purely musical, with- (with passing or neighboring tones that are
out reference to a poem, program, dramaticcircled on the figure). By contrast, ex. 2b essen-
scenario, ballet, pantomime, and so forth. tially copies Schubert's mm. 6-7 (with one small
The question Was bedeutet die Bewegung? adjustment), to show how the F he placed in
can also be understood in a more literal way: the left hand creates consonance/dissonance
Was bedeutet diese Bewegungen? What, shepatterns that actually project 6: now the right
asks, is the significance of the rhythms in the hand dissonates only on the fifth eighth, during
piano prelude, and of the new accompanimentthe unaccented middle portion of a dotted-quar-
rhythms that begin in mm. 6-7, just before sheter-note pulse; the beaming of the right hand
enters? In particular, those accompaniment has been altered to corroborate that fact. While
rhythms intervene between the eloquent butthe hypothetical scenario of ex. 2a is harmoni-
wordless introduction and the singer's opening cally static, prolonging tonic harmony without
question; they intervene, one might say, be-reprieve, Schubert's music in ex. 2b not only
tween prediction and diction. And from projects 6 but also involves a simple harmonic
m. 6 on, they provide a continuous substrate ofBewegung of alternating tonic and dominant
motion for more than half the song. harmonies.
Dominated by the bass rhythm IJ. I, the If the piano rhythms in mm. 6-7 project a
subtle-and almost coy-colloquy between the
accompaniment after m. 6 can be perceived in
either 4 or 8. Example 2 explores how it dexter-notated 3 and an easily projected 6, then the
ously suggests 8 even though the right-handsinger's question Was bedeutet die Bewegung
beams conform with 3. Example 2a shows thatcan also be addressed directly to those rhythms,
if Schubert had used the tonic for the left-hand especially since they give her mixed signals
eighth notes, the resulting patterns of conso- about the meter of her impending entry. Faith-
nance and dissonance would conform to 3, with ful to the accentual patterns of the poetry, she
the right hand dissonating against the left on will scan her text unequivocally in 4, and thus
181
19TH a. Hypothetical bass and 3 scansion.

CENT RY
M SIC
r r r r r
(nota bene) (nota bene)
b. Schubert's bass and 6 scansion.
i V7 i V7
Example 2: Suleika I,
frequently rhythm and meter in the

engage nfinished
in met
Symphony's first movement.9
piano, which can so ea
sure, the question Was bedeutet die
Bewegung? can be posed in numerous ways, II
beyond those already suggested. Nonetheless, In the symphony's first movement the rela-
it certainly can be directed specifically to mu-tion between 4 and 8 is more than just a matter
of indecision, or
sical Bewegungen, explicitly asking What do nentschiedenheit, as
musical motion, rhythm, and meter signify? Kunze calls it. The relation between these two
The word Bewegung is indeed the principalmeters is dia-metrical, but they are not al-
ways diametrically opposed. In some passages,
signifier in the poem, and the interpretation of
movement-both external and internal-is the their relation is quite complementary and is
poem's main theme; it is also the song's main appropriately described as a metric colloquy or
theme, since such delicately ambiguous discourse; but in other passages their relation
accompanimental Bewegungen continue must be understood more dialectically, as a
throughout much of the song, motivating itsmetric antithesis or antinomy, as a contradic-
rhythmic continuity. In a similar spirit, the tion in a law, or between two equally binding
question Was bedeutet die Bewegung? will laws. 10 In this movement, 4 and 8 will be two
also motivate the following examination of laws that regulate, in different but equally ca-
9The song Abendstern (D. 806, March 1824), notated in 4,

81t is quite possible to imagine the ambivalent metric rela-
tion between piano and voice as being charged with erotic also involves metric ambiguity; the poetry clearly scans in
tension. When the singer soon describes sensations that 4 while the accompaniment can be scanned convincingly
she associates with her absent lover, she does so as though
in either 4 or 9. The song also has striking autobiographi-
in response to the piano prelude, in which a hushed but cal connotations, for the poem was written by Schubert's
growing excitement was stimulated by harmonic and met- friend Johann Mayrhofer and can be easily related to
ric innuendoes that climaxed in yearning suspension dis- Schubert's syphilitic condition and confinement during the
sonances. The notion that such harmonic and metric am- period of its composition. That topic will be taken up
bivalences might represent or be experienced as internalsporadically in some later notes.
bodily sensations will be explored later in this article. 1O0xford English Dictionary, s.v. antinomy.
182
RICHARD
K RTH
BassI
OP --1
I
-4, ,P- , ' Schubert's
nfinished
Example 3: Schubert, S
nonical senses, regular patterns of six eighth

conception which lies beneath the Greek dis-
notes. Meter, which affects the notation of mu-
covery of rhythm in music and dancing is not
sical ideas, their comprehension by readers offlow but pause, the steady limitation of move-
scores, and even our acquired modes of musicalment. '12 As a result, several jolting rhythmic
disruptions in the first movement-and some
cognition, is like the law in being regulative,
legislative, canonical, and also sometimes sub-
remarkable pauses-will be of considerable in-
terest in what follows.
ject to interpretation. The following interpreta-
tion of metric scansion in the movement will Among syncopations in this movement, spe-
examine how the relation between 4 and 9 in cial attention must be paid to the inverted tro-
the movement is sometimes discursive (involv-chee I J J I (with the indicated bar line align-
ing metric colloquy) and sometimes morement in the 4 measure) and to some of its
rhythmic elaborations that likewise stress the
strictly dialectical (involving metric antinomy).
In part, the project will explore and exemplifysecond beat of the 4 measure. When the second
Edward T. Cone's idea that musical form ... beat is particularly stressed, as often occurs in
is basically rhythmic. But ultimately, this
the movement, its syncopating power in rela-
concern is with the status of the notated tion
4 to the downbeat is considerable. By some
meter itself: At what point, if any, does definitions,
the this rhythm is not a syncopation in
notated 3 achieve a stable ( tonic ) status 4,
that
but I shall use the term in any case, in recog-
resolves its (discursive or antinomic) relation
nition of the rhythm's disruptive power; more-
with --and perhaps even an antinomic rela- over, this rhythm also syncopates-by any defi-
tion with itself? nition-in .13
Syncopation, a term used broadly here to The symphony's opening bass motto, shown
describe various types of rhythmic or metricin ex. 3, may appear to project 4 unambigu-
disruptions or displacements, will play an ously.
im- But the closing F , sustained through
portant role in my interpretation of metric mm.
col- 6-8, is unsettling: it seems to come too
loquy or antinomy. It will do so not only soon.
be- Arriving in m. 6, it is an (unstressed!)
syncopation against the expected pattern of
cause rhythms characteristic of one meter may
syncopate or create cross-rhythms againstduple
the hypermetric structuring, apparently sub-
other. More significant will be the observation,
dividing the eight-measure phrase as (2 2 1
to be detailed below, that the notated 3 meter3) rather than (2 2 2 2).14 And by virtue of
is not only projected by rhythmic patterns con-
sonant with that meter, but in this movement
'2Werner Jaeger, Paideia: The Ideals of Greek Culture (2nd
is often projected agonistically-through rhyth-
edn. New York, 1965), I, 125-26.
mic argument, conflict, contest or struggle-by
'3According to the definition given by Grosvenor W. Coo-
disruptive rhythms, such as syncopations,
per and Leonard B. Meyer in The Rhythmic Structure of
Music
which project the notated 3 only by challenging (Chicago, 1960), p. 100, the rhythm I J J does not
syncopate in 4 (although it does syncopate in 8). Cooper
or resisting it in some characteristic way.and
TheMeyer do admit, however, that with stress added,
word rhythm, according to Werner Jaeger,unsyncopated
en- notes such as the half note in our inverted
compasses this notion of disruption: rhythmtrochee
is can 'feel like' syncopations (p. 102). In the sym-
phony movement, the second beat in the inverted trochee
that which imposes bonds on movementSJand
J I often feels syncopated in this way, by virtue of abrupt
confines the flux of things, for the original
dynamic, timbral, or harmonic change.
'4When Schubert repeats the motto elsewhere in the move-
ment, he either alters the motto itself or adjusts its ac-
companiment in order to reinforce strictly duple
Cone, Musical Form and Musical Performance (New hypermeter; see mm. 114-21, mm. 170-93, mm. 328-35,
York, 1968), p. 25. mm. 336-47, and mm. 352-63.
183
19TH 9
CENT RY Ob.
M SIC Cl.
Bsn. .4a
Hn. in D
Bass Tbn.
Vn. 1
Vn. 2
pizz.
Vc. Bass 8vb
i iv vii7) i iv vii 7) etc.
13
Tr -
Example 4: Symphony in B Min
a metric
being sustained so ambiguity
long, the F diss
sense of metric pulse
themealtogether.'
proper. A
subtle but palpableThe first
ways, theme
the (sh
sustaine
able
gins to unsettle the for its
status of slightly
3 as the
ate meter for the melodic entrance
music, and at
it sets th
reassertion of dom
21, it spans nine m
'5In the words of Frank Wohlfahrt,
beginning during
again at
Bewegung ... regungslos stehen bleibt ; see
Schuberts ' promises
nvollendete': Analyseandeseight-m
ersten
ginning
eitschrift ftir Musik with
119 (1958), 16. a pair
184
17 - RICHARD
K RTH
Schubert's
nfinished
TL I
Fm M I .. . . I I -R -
A ....mow
-. , . . .arco pizz.
arco pizz.
Example 4 (continued)
in fact there is a clear arrival on the eighthnets immediately use the inverted trochee in
downbeat (m. 20) with a brief cadence to D m. 19 to echo their preceding syncopation and
major. But that cadence is immediately under-resolve a 4-3 dissonance over the bass. Beat
mined by a striking syncopation on beat two oftwo of m. 20 is immediately syncopated even
m. 20 (bassoons, horns, bass trombone, and more emphatically, with a forzando accent, the
lower strings, all forzando) that suddenly reas- introduction of brass timbres, a shift from
serts the dominant of B minor, now prolonged pizzicato to arco in the lower strings, and height-
for five quarter notes (almost two full mea-ened agogic stress (bassoons in particular). The
sures).'16 syncopating effect of the inverted trochee
The powerful syncopation in m. 20 culmi- rhythm and its variants, peaking in m. 20, is
nates a larger network of syncopations over the likewise echoed by the 9-8 dissonance resolu-
five-measure segment in mm. 17-21, in which tion on the second beat of m. 21.
the timbral palette is rapidly broadened. The The horn rhythms in mm. 20-21 essentially
first of these syncopations is the F? played by echo the oboe and clarinet rhythms in mm. 18-
oboes and clarinets in m. 18; emphasized dy- 19, projecting mm. 18-21 as a 2 2 parallel
namically and by agogic stress, this figure also structure: IJJ.?1J lJJJ. JJl1. But the 2 2
introduces in a striking manner the I J J. bl structuring of mm. 18-21 contradicts the ini-
rhythm that will be characteristic of the sec- tial expectation of 2 2 structuring in mm. 17-
ond theme. That rhythm is also a variant of the 20 (aroused by the 2 2 structure in mm. 13-
inverted trochee I J J I, and the oboes and clari- 16). The tension between those two groupings
culminates with the syncopation in m. 20,
which strongly undermines the ability of the
16Manfred Wagner describes the syncopation in m. 20 as downbeat to confirm mm. 13-20 as an eight-
zeitaufhebend, unsicher machend im Rhythmusgefiihl ;
see his Franz Schubert: Sein Werk-Sein Leben (Vienna, measure group.
1996), p. 100. The syncopations in both mm. 18 and 20 are
185
19TH harmonically significant. The former animates The hypermetric organization of mm. 17-21
CENT RY the emerging tonicization of D major, since the can be explored with a thought experiment that
syncopating Ft suggests the parallel D minor. evaluates the brief D-major harmony of m. 20.
(When the bass G follows, the F? is also re- If m. 20 projected only D-major harmony for
called as a suggestion of secondary viio7 of D the entire measure, and the dominant of B mi-
major's dominant, embellishing the secondary nor occurred only in m. 21, mm. 17-21 would
V6 spelled by the E it has displaced.) But the
be cast as 4 1 measures, the former modulat-
forzando syncopation on beat two of ingm.
to D20major, and later reasserting B minor's
suddenly and forcefully dissipates D dominant. major by But the syncopation of m. 20 is too
reasserting B minor's dominant.17 Insignificant response to be effaced in this way. Syncopa-
to this sudden harmonic turn, the first horn's
tions, especially when they effect such power-
beautiful alternation between G and F fulprojects harmonic redirection as does this one, often
9-8 embellishment of the dominant harmony; gain their force and significance by retro-
but because it comes right after D-major har-
dictively displacing and denying the stress of
mony this G-F figure also prefigures G ma- downbeat. This displacing power
the preceding
jor-Schubert's somewhat unconventional implies that the F harmony is the more signifi-
choice for the second theme-by suggesting cant of the two harmonies in m. 20. Conceptu-
that D major is already being identified as the ally, it occupies all of m. 20, as well as m. 21,
dominant of that key.is
the nfinished Symphony recapitulation, D major (the

'7D-major and F -major harmonies are also twice juxta- relative major) serves as a major-mode tonic representa-
posed in the development section, at mm. 134-45 and at tive, at least until the second theme returns once more in
mm. 202-17. (The first of these passages will be examined B major, the tonic parallel, near the end of the recapitula-
somewhat later in the main text.) The connection between tion. There the major modality suggests a brief illusory
these two specific harmonies also seems to be a kind of perspective on the minor tonic and its full range of asso-
idde fixe for Schubert and can be found in other composi-ciations; the reality of B minor soon returns with rather
tions. In the sketches for the Andante second movement harrowing effect and implication in the coda.
of the Tenth Symphony (D. 936A), also in B minor, the The key scheme in Schubert's symphony-second
principal melody makes the same striking move from theme a major third below the tonic, recapitulated a fifth
mediant to dominant harmony, again with the syncopat- higher (a minor third above the tonic), and then later re-
peated in the tonic-suggests itself as a variant on yet
ing inverted trochee (now in 8); the melody and its accom-
paniment can be found in Deutsch, Franz Schubert: another well-known Beethoven model: the Piano Sonata
in C Major, op. 53 ( Waldstein ). This work presents its
Thematisches Verzeichnis seiner Werke in chronologischer
second theme a major third above the tonic, recapitulates
Folge, p. 599; for the complete sketches, see Franz Schubert:
Drei Symphonie-Fragmente: D. 615, D. 708A, D. 936A, ed. it a fifth lower (a minor third below the tonic), and later
Ernst Hilmar (facs. edn. Kassel, 1978). Schubert also juxta-
repeats it in the tonic. Beethoven had used a similar scheme
posed D-major and F -major harmonies in several pieces in for his Piano Sonata in G Major, op. 31, no. 1. In a sense,
other keys. See, for instance, the third movement of the the I-III( ) . . . I-VI( )-I key scheme in the two Beethoven
Piano Sonata in A Minor, D. 537, where F -major harmony sonatas becomes inverted by the i-VI ... i-III-I/i scheme
is prolonged (as the dominant of B minor) in mm. 47-58 in Schubert's symphony. This inversion corresponds with
and is followed immediately by D-major harmony asthe
a change in tonic mode (from major in the sonatas to
new local tonic. A similar case occurs in the first move- minor in the symphony), and with the tremendous differ-
ment of the String Quartet in G Major, D. 887, mm. 60-ences in genre, character, and tone-heroic and trium-
90; the same two harmonies (and functions) are at workphant in Beethoven's C-Major Piano Sonata, comic and
here but their relation is mediated by other harmonies,ingenuous in his G-Major Sonata, but tragic and ultimately
with the striking exception of m. 77, where they are di-defeated in the Schubert symphony.
rectly linked. The nfinished is in fact not Schubert's first use of
'8Schubert's use of the submediant for the second theme such a key scheme. He used it in the G-Minor Andante
in a minor-key sonata form is not unprecedented. The first molto second movement of his 1817 Piano Sonata in E6
movement of Beethoven's String Quartet in F Minor, op. Major (op. 122). Even more important so far as the sym-
95 (1810, published 1816) presents its second theme in D6 phony is concerned, he had already adopted a similar plan
major; in the recapitulation it first reappears again in D6 in the Tragic C-Minor Symphony (D. 417, completed in
major, but shifts after four measures to the tonic parallel April 1816), in which the Ab-major second theme is reca-
(F major). The recapitulation in Schubert's symphony is pitulated a fifth higher in E6 major (III). This relative major
quite different: the second theme, stated in G major in the is again a temporary tonic substitute in the recapitulation,
exposition, is recapitulated a fifth higher, in D major. This soon to be replaced by the tonic major; but in the Tragic,
inverts the transpositional relationship in the standard C major prevails to the end, while B major in the nfin-
major-key sonata model, in which the dominant-key sec- ished is finally-almost mortally-undone by the B-mi-
ond theme is recapitulated a fifth lower in the tonic. In nor coda.
10
186
RICHARD
177
K RTH
Schubert's
nfinished
A 1 1.F----1
pizz. arco e pizz.

7
4.---- 3
DD I ii6 Vg V 9-------------
I ii6V 9-l8 V8 7
6---5
4---3
b- I V
3 2
Example 5:
and one can imagine and explore this idea by The F? in m. 18 is of course quite striking in
completely omitting the D-major harmony from the context of B minor. Edward T. Cone would
m. 20. In fact, although it is prepared by its call it a promissory note, or member of a
dominant, D major is indeed somewhat illu- promissory harmony.19 Sounding simulta-
sory here: while it may predict the unconven- neously with G, B, and D, it prefigures the
tional G major of the second theme, it is also a dominant of the C-minor or -major harmonies
quickly denied commitment to the conven- (or their derivatives) that appear at significant
tional key for the second theme. The harmonic moments elsewhere in the movement (for in-
reduction in ex. 5 sketches the thought experi- stance at m. 63 and m. 122).20 The promissory
ment simply by replacing the root-position D- F? can also be heard as E , and Schubert will
major harmony on the downbeat of m. 20 with explicitly use the latter pitch class in the reca-
a cadential six-four in B minor. (This small pitulation (especially mm. 286-302) and the
change amounts to something like an inverted coda (especially mm. 340-47). Even in m. 20
deceptive cadence in D major; all other harmo-
nies on the figure are Schubert's.) A brace and
arrow on the figure emphasize how the D2-C 2
19See Cone, Schubert's Promissory Note: An Exercise in
idea in m. 19 is repeated an octave lower in m. Musical Hermeneutics, this journal 5 (1982), 233-41 (rpt.
20 within the second violin figuration, but in a in Schubert: Critical and Analytical Studies, ed. Walter
different harmonic context that prolongs the Frisch Lincoln, Neb., 1986 , pp. 13-30). Page number cita-
tions will be to the latter volume. Cone's essay made the
dominant of B minor instead of the dominant
famous conjecture that Schubert's response to his contrac-
of D major. The thought experiment suggeststion of syphilis, in late 1822 or early 1823, could be mu-
that mm. 17-21 group into 3 2 measures, sically embodied in the tonal structure of the Moment
musical in Ab Major, op. 94, no. 6; Cone even suggested
with the first three measures promoting D ma-that the B-Minor Symphony's doom-laden score of fall
jor, and the last two restoring B minor by proxy1822 may already reflect the composer's early awareness,
through its dominant. From this perspective,or suspicion, of this condition (p. 28). Eric Sams has ar-
gued that Schubert probably contracted the disease early
the F? in m. 18 is a doubly significant rhythmicin 1823-that is, after ceasing work on the symphony. But
event, for it syncopates both metrically andSams also admits a possible interrelation between
hypermetrically: it stresses the second beat of aSchubert's health and the form and content of his nfin-
ished Symphony on the possibility that the disease could
three-beat measure and does so in the second
have been contracted in late autumn of 1822; see Eric
measure (or hyperbeat) of a three-measure unit
Sams, Schubert's Illness Re-examined, Musical Times
121 (1980), 15-22, at p. 21.
(or hypermeasure). Indeed, the Ft is extraordi-
20The C-minor harmony of m. 63, which follows an abrupt
nary in a number of ways, which warrant some measure of silence in m. 62, will be the subject of later
very detailed commentary. comments.
11
187
19TH the promissory harmony G-B-D-F has a more in the following measures.21 As the me
CENT RY immediate connection, similar to its use in the unfolds in the oboes and clarinets, voice
opening measures of Suleika I. With the Ft un- changes in mm. 14 and 16 further help to pr
derstood as E , the chord constitutes the Ger- 8patterns. And the harmonic rhythm in
man augmented-sixth of B minor-the tonic 9-17 (indicated beneath ex. 4) also supports
key apparently being abandoned during this brief dotted-quarter-note pulse of 6 rather than
modulation to D major-and this particular quarter-note pulse of 4.22 A listener wh
promissory obligation is directly fulfilled. As tends to these various factors-unprejud
ex. 6 indicates (by omitting the V-I motion in by the notation in 34will be inclined, I th
D), mm. 20-21 scuttle D major by resolving the to hear mm. 9-17 in .23
implicit German sixth to the dominant of B
minor. The harmonic logic of ex. 6 is compel-
ling even though the augmented sixth is re- 21These motives are discussed by Martin Chusid in
Schubert, Symphony in B Minor ( nfinished ), An
solved an octave too low by the dominant in thoritative Score, Norton Critical Score (rev. edn
mm. 20-21; what is more, the chromatic as- York, 1971), p. 78. Chusid does not, however, comm
cent implied by the oboes' and clarinets' E?2- how they induce a sensation of 6. Although Frank Woh
( Franz Schuberts ' nvollendete': Analyse des ers
E 2 motion in m. 18 is eventually realized when Satzes, p. 17) does not mention specific meters, he
those same instruments restate the melody be- comment that the Sechszehntelfiguren der Strei
ginning on F 2 in m. 22. ein neues Bewegungsmoment hervorbringt (emp
added). Similarly, Manfred Wagner (Franz Schubert
Werk-Sein Leben, p. 99) describes the sixteenth-not
18 20 22 lin figures as a Klanguntergrund mit einer rhythmis
Verschiebung, die nruhe ausstrahlt (emphasis a
Wagner uses the same word-Verschiebung-that Sch
applied to the opening piano gestures of Suleika I.
22In mm. 10, 12, 14, and 16 the harmony moves from
viio7 over a tonic pedal that departs, quite remarkab
II G and back. (Isolated and almost alienated, these Gs
tly prefigure the key of the second theme.) These G
ticulate the seventh of the viio7 harmony implied b
6 9---- 8 violins, but leave it unresolved (at least locally) by r
iv6 Ger5 (...) V7 i ing to B (instead of proceeding to F ). But the desire
to resolve to F will be fulfilled, in the correct reg
precisely at the syncopated bass F
Example 6: Symphony in B Minor, in m. 20, wher
dominant of B minor returns. This long-range G-F
Allegro moderato, mm. 18-22.nection also nicely motivates the G-F 9-8 figure
first horn in mm. 20-21.
23Schubert has composed the passage with remarkable met-
ric subtlety and sophistication; whether he does so con-
The F? of m. 18 is also significant metrically,
sciously or intentionally is not, I think, the issue. And
in ways-beyond those already observed-that
whether performers should consciously try to project 86 (or
are vital to the question of metric 4)ambiguity.
is yet another matter. Rene Leibowitz (Le compositeur
et son double: Essais
In particular, prior to the F? it is difficult to sur l'interpretation musicale Paris,
1971 , pp. 145-46) proposes that the first theme be con-
experience an unambiguous sense of ductedthe no-
in one (and at a rather brisk tempo); he does not
tated 3 in the first theme. Numerous mention factors
8, or even discuss the metric tendencies of the
compel the listener to hear 8 as thefirst theme, but his strategy conveniently absolves the
pertinent
conductor from having to beat 34 in a passage where 9 is
meter from m. 9 to at least m. 17. The pizzicato
clearly projected.
bass rhythm after m. 9, so like the left-hand
Some readers who have tried conducting in 9 while
accompaniment rhythm in Suleika singing
I (ex.mm. 9-17
2), ismay still find it hard to accustom them-
selves to the 8 scansion I have just described. Perhaps our
one powerful factor in the projection of g.
response The
to the rhythmic and metric capacities of familiar
violins' sixteenth-note figures after m. 9,
canonical in-
works can become atrophied (paradoxically) by
overuse. And because we so often learn music from no-
volving the motives labeled and on ex. 4,
tated scores, rather than aurally, metric notation can some-
likewise elaborate a dotted-quarter-note pulse
times limit and confine our musical imagination if it be-
and induce the sensation of 6 grouping;
comes toothese
rigid a medium for learning, remembering, con-
motives can, of course, be scannedceptualizing,
in 4, but and perceiving musical motions. Like rhythm,
notated meter sometimes imposes bonds on movement
they nonetheless also introduce and begin to flux of things (Jaeger, Paideia: Ideals, I,
and confines the
125-26).
realize a 6 sensation that will become stronger
12
188
The Ft in m. 18 actively engages, for the first III RICHARD

K RTH
time, the metric discourse or antinomy between Responding to A. B. Marx's dictum that the Schubert's
4 and g. The listener who does perceive mm. 9- formation of the Hauptsatz is the first result nfinished
17 in 8 will attribute special significance to the ... of the motivating impulse Antrieb for the
F?, because it will at first be heard to syncopate composition that is to take shape, Scott
against 6. Only when the syncopating stress on Burnham has recently characterized the
the second quarter is confirmed by similar Hauptsatz as a form of energeia demanding to
rhythmic events in mm. 19-21 will this lis- be realized by the rest of the form. 26 Here I
tener come to hear it, retrodictively, as a syn- shall interpret this concept of energeia in spe-
copating figure in 4. And only then will the cifically rhythmic and metric terms, but must
possibility of the theme's orientation in 4 re- first ask where this motivating impulse is to
ally emerge. But because 8 is projected strongly be identified. To be sure, the opening bass
in mm. 9-17, the remarkable harmonic and motto, which returns periodically throughout
rhythmic events of mm. 18-21 must exert con- the movement, posits an initial sense of mo-
siderable force to reassert the 4 meter of the tion in 3 (even though the motto, when first
opening motto. In fact, the force and displacing encountered, is hypermetrically off-balance due
power of those syncopating events indicate, in to the sustained F of mm. 6-8). But it is argu-
significant measure, how compelling the gravi- ably the Hauptsatz proper, beginning in m. 9,
tation toward 8 has been. Indeed, 8 has been that establishes the motivating impulse for
the movement; and that impulse, at least at
projected so reasserted
can only be convincingly that the notated 43
agonistically-through first, posits 6 as a pertinent sense of Bewegung,
argument, contest, conflict, even combat.24 against the 4 of the preceding bass motto. In a
Moreover, 4 can only be projected somewhat broader sense, therefore, the motivating im-
paradoxically, through the jolt of a heavily ac- pulse for the movement is the metric tension
cented inverted trochee that places syncopated between 3 and 8, often figured by certain spe-
stress on its second quarter. It is surely no cific rhythms-such as the inverted trochee
coincidence that this attempt to restore the and its variants-that directly engage and
notated (or tonic ) 34 meter occurs just as B project this tension. What could be more mo-
minor is reestablished by the forceful return of tivating and impulsive than the remarkable
its dominant in mm. 20-21. The 3 2 division rhythmic, metric, and harmonic events of mm.
of mm. 17-21 (seen earlier in ex. 5) suggests 18-21?
how this metric drama is also enacted What follows therefore explores how ten-
hypermetrically: the nine-measure theme sion in-
between 3 and 6 becomes a central agon in
volves four hypermeasures-2 2 3 the movement.27 This agonistic discourse in
2-in
such a way that a triple hypermeasure tempo- the rhythmic and metric domain complements
rarily displaces the normative duple the discourse of principal themes and keys at
hypermeasures at precisely the moment whenwork in the sonata form. The syncopations in
triple meter (3) begins to (re)assert itself over
duple (6).25
26See Scott Burnham, A. B. Marx and the Gendering of
Sonata Form, in Music Theory in the Age of Romanti-
cism, ed. Ian Bent (Cambridge, 1996), pp. 163-86, at pp.
24Apt in this regard is Cone's remark ( Schubert's Promis-168 and 172 respectively. Marx's dictum, translated here
sory Note, p. 18) that the promissory chord is promoted, by Burnham, appears in A. B. Marx, Die Lehre von der
so to speak, by an insurrection that tries, but fails, to turnmusikalischen Komposition, praktisch-theoretisch (2nd
the course of the harmony in its own new direction. In theedn. Leipzig, 1841-51), vol. 3 (1848), p. 259.
present instance, the insurrection also tries to alter the27Schubert is certainly neither the first, nor the last, to
projection of meter, not just the progression of harmony. explore a discourse between these two meters. An inter-
25An effective way to sensitize and accustom oneself to esting example of the opposite scenario-the use of 3 in a
the discourse between 9 and 3 that I am describing is to composition notated in 8-can be found in the first move-
listen to or sing the music while conducting mm. 9-19 inment of Beethoven's String Quartet in E Minor, op. 59, no.
8, switching to 4 only in mm. 20-21, where the second and 2 (see, for instance, mm. 91-106 and 123-26, as well as
more harmonically powerful rhythmic jolt occurs. The ex- other passages motivically related to them); the juxtaposi-
ercise nicely brings out the metric ambivalence of mm. 18 tion of 4 and 6 is likewise a recurring feature in Brahms's
and 19, as well as the 2 2 3 2 hypermetric structure. Second Symphony.
13
189
19TH 36
CENT RY
M SIC
Cl. in A --
-- ----
Bsn.
Hn. in D - if ftfp --I-
Via. 1 - --L
pizz.
Cb.
46
PP
PP (Violin 2 8-)
-,.. . i ? I on 9 7 I Ii
Example 7: Symph
mm. 18-21 argument, and the

conflict between
scrutiny a b
of
an immediatelyties will reasse re
the too-familiar tune and
relation will indicate further how
between
is largely the metric
figured discourse engages the sonata-formas
tonic 4 discourse.
meter One peculiarity of the movement
must is
14
190
RICHARD
K RTH
54... Schubert's
nfinished
.. . , . . .. . '
.:..........I I .......
I / r........'.'
. . . . . .
LL i i H i ?v all ?i
decresc.
1 . i i i
decresc.
.... . I ? K K? I. K I. K I, K K
II
decresc.
Example 7 (continued)
that both themes adopt a lyrical demeanor.28gins in m. 44. At m. 22 the first theme is
The metric differences between the themes are restated, once again projecting 8 in its early
consequently a significant point of contrast in measures. But in the continuation 34 is more
the sonata-form discourse. Nonetheless, the sec-strongly figured than before, especially in mm.
ond theme also engages both 6 and 3. To con-26-35, which repeatedly attempt to tonicize G
trast the metric antinomy of the first theme, major (the key yet to be associated with the
the second theme will set 4 and 8 in a colloquy second theme). These attempts at modulation
in which both meters cooperate in a comple- are denied for the present, until after the pow-
mentary interaction or intercourse.29 erful formal cadence at m. 38. Reproduced in
First I shall examine the measures directlyshort score at the beginning of ex. 7, the hemiola
preceding the second theme, to see how theyrhythms in mm. 36-37 present the earlier met-
effect whether 34 is-or is not-heard as the ric antinomy between 4 and 6 in augmentation,
appropriate meter when the second theme be-as a discourse between and 6.30 Like the in-
verted trochees in mm. 18-21, the hemiola
rhythms assert 34 only by working against it.
28Dahlhaus, for instance, remarks that the first theme,
Nonetheless, the notion that the notated 3 is a
standing out like a lied melody . . . strikes a lyric tone.
tonic meter is at least reinforced harmoni-
See Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, trans. J. Bradford
Robinson (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1989), p. 153. cally here, for the powerful cadence at m. 38
29Although both themes are lyrical, broadly speaking, their
once again reasserts the tonic B minor, rather
attitude is clearly contrasted. The first theme projects a
dark perspective, adopting the minor mode and an than the G major promoted in the preceding
antinomic, even agonistic metric discourse. The second measures. But in immediate response to the
theme contrasts this attitude by reaching a temporary (and hemiola rhythms and the B-minor cadence in
perhaps illusory) state of well-being, now adopting the ma-
jor mode and a more relaxed colloquy between the two
meters. Of course, this description oversimplifies matters,
with regard to the significance of the minor and major 30The hemiola rhythms in mm. 36-37 are reminiscent of
modes, and with regard to the assumption that some sort the more extended hemiola rhythms in the exposition of
of agency is represented by a theme. Part VI of the present Beethoven's Eroica Symphony. But the effect is quite dif-
article will attempt to frame the latter question in a par- ferent: the sensibility in Schubert's symphony is not he-
ticular way. roic, a point to be considered later.
15
191
19TH m. 38, Schubert then conjures his famously lindlerisch character would at first blush sug-
CENT RY brief harmonic transition to G major.31 This gest an unmediated projection of 3, and a dissi-
transition, in fact, echoes the forzando syncopation of the earlier metric ambiguities raised
pation of m. 20 (where a promotion of D major by the specter of 6. But even a quick perusal of
was denied). As in m. 20, the horns and bas- Schubert's Lindler for piano shows that he of-
soons enter on the second beat of m. 38, now ten animates this rustic dance form with all
with a fortepiano accent, submitting 34 once manner of off-beat accents and syncopations in
again to an inverted trochee. They sustain a which one hears the jovial stomp of wooden
unison D for a full nine quarter notes, allowing clogs.34 The second theme's cello melody is
the listener to contemplate whether that tone certainly not in this character. Instead, it trans-
will find its future in B minor, D major, G forms the Lindler's rustic footwork into some-
major, or elsewhere. Like the sustained F of thing much more subtle, through the dialogical
mm. 6-8, the sustained D partially liquidates workings of an implicit 8 that will be explored
in what follows.
the preceding metric sensations. Motion in 4
may seem to appear in m. 41, but that motion The cello melody is preceded by offbeat ac-
begins-a pattern is emerging-only with the companiment rhythms (violas and clarinets,
second beat; a tie prevents articulation of the mm. 42-43) that are equivocal with respect to
downbeat and undermines an unambiguous pro- both 3 and 6.35 As ex. 8a shows, in 4 the first
jection of 3 even though the notated rhythms two attacks of the accompaniment rhythm are
apparently posit it. By now, a rhythmic event both syncopated, while the third attack will
on the second beat has become the characteris-
tend to be perceived as a (compensating)
tic way of projecting a 34 measure. But it is alsoafterbeat. By contrast, ex. 8b indicates that in 8
possible to maintain, throughout mm. 38-41, the first attack is syncopated, but the second
the half-note pulse of the 2 hemiola in mm. 36- attack supports the dotted-quarter pulse and
37, so that while some aspects of the transition resolves the syncopating effect of the first
may work to project 3, the overall result is attack. In 4 the accompaniment rhythms are
ambivalent at best. In many performances oneoffbeat and unstable throughout the entire mea-
completely loses a clear sense of 34 in this tran- sure, never coinciding with a quarter-note pulse.
sition because conductors are inclined to sus- But the listener who hears the rhythm in will
pend tempo here in the widest variety of ways.perceive a graceful rocking motion that gently
How will these factors affect the metric per- unsettles the downbeat (played pizzicato by the
ception of the second theme?32 The famousbasses) and then stabilizes the second beat. In
cello melody (beminning at m. 44) certainly ap-particular, the first (dotted-quarter-note) beat
pears to be in 4, and many critics have re- in 6 is destabilized precisely by an inverted
marked on its Liindler-like quality.33 If it pre-trochee subdivision (b J) projected by the
sents the pastoral by way of a peasant dance,pizzicato bass downbeat and the first viola/
31Tovey describes this transition with remarkable honesty:

In his most inspired works the transition is accomplished For Tovey's very critical attitude toward the notion of
by an abrupt coup de theatre; and of all such coups, no Liindler character, see Essays in Musical Analysis: Vol-
doubt the crudest is that in the nfinished Symphony.... ume I: Symphonies, p. 212.
Is it not a most impressive moment? (Donald Francis 34That image would better characterize the second theme
Tovey, Essays in Musical Analysis: Volume I: Sympho- in the first movement of Beethoven's Eighth Symphony.
nies London, 1935 , p. 213). Beethoven likewise uses the key of the major submediant,
32Like the first theme, the second theme is also a nine- but in relation to a major tonic key rather than a minor
measure construction that subdivides into 4 5 measures. one. At least two of Schubert's dance pieces for piano echo
Beethoven's theme, although neither of them are titled
33See, for instance, Kunze, Franz Schubert: Sinfonie h-moll,
nvollendete, p. 15; and Wohlfahrt, Franz SchubertsLindler : the trio of no. 20 from the Letzte Walzer (op.
' nvollendete': Analyse des ersten Satzes, p. 17. The first127, D. 146), and no. 2 of the Griitzer Walzer (op. 91, D.
to characterize the second theme in this way was Eduard 924).
Hanslick, in his review of the first performance (17 De- 35A similar rhythm also accompanies the second theme in
cember 1865), which described it as an enchanting pas-the second movement, but creates a somewhat different
sage of song of almost Ldndler-like ease (quoted in Franz effect than the one to be explored in the following argu-
Schubert, Symphony in B Minor ( nfinished ), p. 114). ments.
16
192
a. b. c. RICHARD
N.B.
K RTH
Schubert's
42 ff 52r.B
nfinished
c. . etc.
Example 8: Sym
accompanimen
Andante
A I
Is '
Example 9: Koch, Versuch einer Anleitung zu
Dritter Theil (Leipzig, 1793), p. 25 (figure 2
clarinet attack; the second beat is then stabi-einer Anleitung zur Composition (1793) involv-
lized by a normal uninverted trochee subdivi-ing the I J J. ? I rhythm used by the cello in m.
sion, (J .), so that the last eighth note can be44. The symbols over this rhythm indicate
heard as an afterbeat. Example 8c shows that in Koch's opinion that the accompaniment must
m. 52-as the G-major cadence approaches--articulate the third quarter in order to main-
the accompaniment is particularly well coordi- tain a clear sensation of 3.36 Notably, Schubert's
nated with 6, since the inverted trochee subdi- accompaniment completely avoids the third
vision of the first beat is weakened by further quarter, as does the cello melody by and large.
eighth-note subdivision. Although it requires that we unlearn the no-
Given the metric ambivalence indicated bytated meter and perceive a different Bewegung,
ex. 8, a figure-ground problem occurs when theit is quite possible to imagine the rhythms of
cello melody enters in m. 44. To assess thethe second theme and its accompaniment be-
metric scansion of the second theme, we again ginning at m. 42 in 8, so that the cello D in m.
need to evaluate carefully the second quarter of44 syncopates against a dotted-quarter-note
the notated measure. In particular, does the pulse. We will see that in this way the second
cello D on the second quarter of m. 44 synco-theme rojects a complementary colloquy be-
pate against the accompaniment rhythm, ortween 4 and 8; the former results from scanning
vice versa? This D is approached by leap andthe cello melody alone, while the latter results
also receives agogic stress. Do these factors from the accompaniment rhythms and their
enforce 4 against an accompaniment that syn-metric effect on the melody.
copates in that meter? If so, we encounter once Example 10 begins to explore this colloquy
again the (formerly agonistic) strategy of plac- between 6 and 3 by scanning the theme's ante-
ing stress-in this case, a comparatively subtlecedent phrase entirely in 8. The resulting cello
one-on beat two in 3. On the other hand, dosyncopations (marked by asterisks) are not par-
the leap and agogic stress instead characterize
the cello D as a syncopation, against an accom-
paniment that effectively registers a lilting but
36See Heinrich Christoph Koch, Versuch einer Anleitung
stable 8? To help answer this question in sup- zur Composition, Dritter Theil (Leipzig, 1793), p. 25; see
also the English trans. Nancy Kovaleff Baker, Introductory
port of the latter hypothesis, ex. 9 transcribes aEssay on Composition: The Mechanical Rules of Melody,
figure from Heinrich Christoph Koch's VersuchSections 3 and 4 (New Haven, 1983), p. 72.
17
193
19TH 44
CENT RY Via.
M SIC Cl.s
C1.8 r -1 1 RIM'r etc.
Vc.r'Ir
, ? I 'P
r r r' r
r r r r ' r r r
Example 10: Symphony in B Minor, Allegro moderato, second th
especially
ticularly disruptive; in fact, by with the support
anticipating the of the accompani-
second beat (of 6) by an eighthment
noterhythms.
they While
weaken Schubert does not em-
the destabilizing effect of theploy the explicit 6 beaming
syncopated first used in ex. 10, his
entry in the accompaniment andstill
notation add to8 the
allows to emerge; it also avoids
lilting barcarolle character that
making gently
the matter rocks
obvious and further avoids
between the two dotted-quarter-note
resolving the pulses of
metric colloquy between 4 and 8
8. In the first four measures, in
only
favor m. 46 has
of either meter.noIn particular, the beam-
such syncopation (in 8); indeed, here
ing of ex. 1 1a, the leap
rejected by Schubert, would have
down to D separates a pair of conjunct
projected thirds
a variant of the inverted trochee I J J I
that project 6 quite directly. and
Thiswouldrhythmic
have revived the and
earlier sensation of
intervallic pattern will becomea 4 that an especially
is projected agonistically; I suggest it is
effective way of projecting 8precisely
in later passages.
that particular kind of 34 and the im-
Here it makes m. 46 a moment at which the plication of metric antinomy that Schubert
metric colloquy is temporarily resolved wished
in to avoid at this juncture.
favor of 68-a point that will be rejoined shortly.
Example 11 adds further evidence to support a. b.
the conjecture of 's relevance. Without excep- -o ,o ' t , ?
tion, when the rhythm found in the cello in m.
46 appears in the autograph, Schubert notates
it under a single beam.37 (I have used two beamsExample 11: Sympho
in ex. 10, m. 46, soley to project 6 scansion moderato, revised b
explicitly.) Example 1 1a transcribes the beam- facsimile (cello,
ing Schubert first wrote for this rhythm in m.
50 of the autograph (the sole exception to his
notation just described) while ex. 1 lb tran- To explore the matt
scribes his amendment of this beaming; the bines the attack-rh
(stemmed down)
amendment shows an express intention to avoid and
signifying any detachment that might articu-up), to compare the
late the second quarter.38 Even when written 12b and 12c respec
under a single beam, the leap separating two onset of each sync
with an asterisk, m
conjunct thirds is quite sufficient to suggest 8,
stream for the acco
the cello melody. In
quarter notes syncop
37See Franz Schubert: Sinfonie in h-Moll Die
nvollendete, ed. Walther D irr and Christa Landon (facs.creating a rhythmic
edn. Munich, 1978). mains unresolved. Bu
38The Norton Critical Score is faulty in this regard. It
are metrically stab
consistently uses the beaming of ex. 1 la, rather than the
beaming of ex. 1 Ib, which appears throughout the auto- syncopating stress
graph. eighth notes, maki
18
194
a. RICHARD
etc. K RTH
44
Schubert's
nfinished
SI I I K & I i
c.
Example 12: Symphony in B Min

combined rhythms in 34 an
I I,
r -r r 44
111Ir I/I0-I 0 -- I . II - i i I A
V E
? II i-
() ? F i
Example 13: Symphony in B Minor, A
metric and hypermetric parallel
anacrusic in character. In 4 the bar lines will be ond beat that they anticipate but do not articu-
relatively marked, since only the downbeatslate. And as ex. 13 suggests, movement toward
are stable; some performances allow this factor a more stable second beat within the 6 measure
to create a pedantic effect that damages theis also paralleled hypermetrically by the
flowing continuity of the cello song. Scansionmelody's motion toward the particularly clear
in 6 produces a much more supple Bewegung,8 scansion at m. 46, which begins the second
and a placid barcarolle well suited to the lyrical half of the antecedent phrase.
attitude of the theme.39 In 6 the first beat gener-To my hearing, all these observations sug-
ates motion to a more stable second beat, andgest 8 as the appropriately lyrical metric scan-
the celli are motivated to nuance their dotted- sion for this theme, so long as it is also heard
quarter notes-with vibrato, bow-speed, andagainst the backdrop of the notated 3. The subtle
dynamic inflection-in order to project the sec-interaction between 3 and 8 that results recalls
Marx's dictum that second themes should be
characterized by pliancy rather than pith. 40
39This barcarolle is much more similar in character and In this colloquy 6 does not entirely displace 34; it
works-both
tempo to the famous barcarolle from Offenbach's Tales of internally and
externally-to
Hoffmann than to Schubert's own barcarolle in the lovely
supplement the notated 34.
Consequently, the
song Des Fischers Liebesglick (D. 933, November 1827).
second theme does not completely grant the
The song is in a much slower tempo ( iemlich langsam),
but in fact uses rhythms strikingly similar to those pre-tonic 34 meter the stability denied it by the
sented here by the cello; in the song they are diminutedfirst theme; instead, it deftly combines 8 and 3
and appear in 8, giving the impression that the cello theme
in a barcarolle that masterfully suspends the
might have been notated as a barcarolle in 4 by taking its 4
measures in pairs. The barcarolle I am describing in the
symphony, in addition to suggesting such a pairing of 4
measures to produce larger 4 (hyper)measures, also super-
6 3
imposes 8 over 4, with particularly
4See Burnham, Marx and the Gendering of Sonata Form, remark
effect. pp. 163 and 165.
19
195
19TH tension between the two meters. This suspen- sage beginning at m. 63 insists with increasing
CENT RY sion of metric antinomy, however, also entails aggression on a quarter-note pulse and builds
the suspension of 3 itself, to some de gree. Asupato a powerful arrival (on a diminished-sev-
result, it remains to be seen whether 4 will still
enth chord) at m. 71. But the syncopating ac-
have to reassert itself agonistically, in ordercompaniment
to rhythm that returns in mm. 71-
achieve tonic status. 72 (at first still in forte) begins to undermine
The preceding examples and commentary this temporary 4 sensation, further dispelling it
strain against the limitations of the printed
with a decrescendo. The sequence that begins
medium, but they attempt to convey the aural in m. 73 enacts an alternating dialog between
the upper and lower strings, against sustained
and visceral sensations (Bewegungen) of a supple
metric colloquy. I find it compelling to imag- wind chords. The winds articulate the third
ine, perceive, and sense the second theme inquarter a of mm. 74 and 78, but the strings ob-
metric colloquy that slightly favors 6, at leastsess over the rhythmic motive from m. 46 and
at first. But when the violins restate the theme
increasingly project 8. The string articulation
at m. 53 Schubert makes a slight but signifi-becomes more pointed at m. 77 (where there is
cant alteration to the accompaniment: the celli, a sudden forte and a slight jolt in the sequence),
now accompanying, uietly reassert the secondand the sensation is so strong that the winds'
and third quarters of 4 (at first with accents; see quarter-note E6 in m. 78 sounds syncopated
ex. 7). This characteristic stress on the secondagainst 8 rather than firmly situated in 4. In
quarter-even within the quiet dynamic-turnsmm. 81-85, where the strings use fortissimo to
the metric colloquy more and more in favor of project 8, the winds and brass repeat the synco-
4; this suggests, in turn, a dialectical rationalepated accompaniment rhythm from the second
for enacting the first statement in a comple-theme, and here its interpretation in 6 becomes
6
mentary 8. a fait accompli. The aggressive and increas-
ingly insistent projection of 6 is forcefully coun-
IV tered, however, by the tutti chords at m. 85.
The subtle metric colloquy of the second These bring the metric antinomy between 8
theme reconfigures and partially dissipates the and 3 to a climax by reasserting 3 in the charac-
metric antinomy of the first theme, but does teristic way: with inverted trochees, here but-
not completely resolve it. And just when the tressed by huge forzando-tremolo accents. Agi-
restatement of the theme nears its cadence, tated though mm. 85-92 are, the antinomy be-
Schubert abruptly breaks off; a full measure of tween 6 and 4 appears to be resolved-almost
silence (m. 62) interrupts the lyric flow of the triumphantly-in favor of the notated 4.
theme, substituting in the place of closure in- But the exposition is not yet finished. After
tense ambiguity and expectation-not just the big G-major cadence in m. 93, Schubert
appends a pair of (five-measure) imitative re-
about metric sensation, but about every aspect
of continuation. statements of the second theme (mm. 94-98
This moment-sublime in all manner of and 99-103). Example 15 begins with a short-
score reduction of the second of these restate-
ways-represents a limitation on the increas-
ments (which departs from the first only in
ing sense (during the restatement of the theme)
orchestration). F? returns in m. 101 (likewise
that 4 is beginning to attain an undisturbed
lyrical stability. When the music rebegins m. 96),
at where its earlier promissory obligations
m. 63, the unexpected C-minor harmony (pos-are directed toward A-minor harmony (func-
sibly fulfilling a promissory debt from m.tioning
18) as ii in G major) in a way that recalls
and the character of the music completelythede-resolution to A-major harmony (V of D
major) in mm. 18-19. (The viio7 of A that was
stroy the lyric tone: the minor mode returns,
merely implied in m. 18 is now realized liter-
and henceforth ffz accents, increasingly disso-
nant harmonies, and building tension will ally
againin mm. 96 and 101.) The former metric
colloquy
place 4 in an antinomic relation with 6 and an of the second theme is only weakly
agonistic struggle for its identity. figured here; the motion is now completely
As the reduction in ex. 14 shows, thecomfortable
pas- in 34, and that meter seems finally
20
196
RICHARD
(Tutti) K RTH
62 jf J Schubert's
nfinished
Tl
R
j ,I
- r
I
. I
'
f
Tif
f Vn.
- . . .. I I I , I T . r
71f
fS jf
,ira 7 i 4 -li I I ,.i ,., -1 it

g F If A Iti
Example 14: Symphony in B Minor, Allegro moderato, mm. 62-93.
to have achieved stable lyricality.41 One thus102, they rock the boat in the most pleasur-
has the initial impression that the earlier met- able way, in the spirit of a barcarolle or lullaby.
ric colloquy and antinomy have finally beenBut the effect is short-lived: m. 104 once more
resolved in favor of the notated ( tonic ) 34, articulates, in fortissimo, a characteristically
albeit in G major rather than the global tonic Bagonistic accent on the second beat, precisely
minor. Even though one does hear agogic ac-when the tonic B returns doubled in several
cents on the second beat throughout mm. 99-octaves, unharmonized, so that its significance
can oscillate between scale-degree 3 of G major
and scale-degree 1 of B minor. This striking
gesture-which once again abruptly undermines
41Nonetheless, the memory of the earlier colloquy with 9
is still echoed faintly by the rhythms and especially the the lyrical state that 4 may have just achieved-
slurrings of the violins in mm. 101 and 102; these might prepares for either the repeat of the exposition
also induce a subtle reorientation of the flute rhythms in or for the development, and in both cases the
m. 102. (In the parallel phrase in mm. 94-98, see likewise
the violas in mm. 96 and 97, and the first flute and first status of tonic 4 meter will still be subject to
violins in m. 97.) agonistic conflict.
21
197
19TH
CENT RY
99 Fl.
M SIC
o n.
Pb. - 1 1. -
HHn
don. I I -LI
Bsn.
Vn. p ( .r ,. , . I ffz -P
pizz.
S, pizz.
Vc., Cb.
107 1
arco
-. IL
Example 1
V achieving anything like lasting stability and a

The exposition lays out the terms of a met- lyrical attitude. Instead, it is driven by tension,
ric discourse in which 3 repeatedly attempts-- torment, and aggression. Moreover, the devel-
without lasting success-to assert itself as a opment also enacts disturbing transformations
stable tonic meter, often through colloquy or on the character of the opening bass motto.
antinomy with 6. I shall quickly sketch how For instance, early in the development (mm.
the remainder of the movement supports this 134-45) the dominant-ninth of B minor is ex-
argument about the equivocal status of 34. tensively prolonged over an F pedal. On the
The development section scans entirely in 34, top staff of the short-score reduction in ex. 16,
without a single reference to the 8 that is pro- two melodic fragments derived from the open-
jected variously in the exposition. Neverthe- ing bass motto (E-F -G in the cellos and horns,
less, the development still does not lend 3 an and its inversion G-F -E in the violins and
entirely stable or uncontested status, in part flutes) obsessively prolong the dissonant ninth
because it now enacts a dramatic agon along and seventh through voice exchanges. Mean-
thematic and harmonic lines, rather than met- while on the middle staff the trombones
ric ones. The 3 meter is again prevented from (stemmed down), in alternation with the bas-
22
198
Vn., F1. ( 8b) cresc. RICHARD

K RTH
Schubert's
nfinished
of t
Trb.c
Bsn., CI. f x fz fz fz f
Cb. cresc.
(Ira
11 pr pp r ,4. , .,.? IN - 1 d,
soons and clarinets (stemmed up), contest the 4 return, and here they are unquestionably
scansion with hocketing forzando accents thatscanned in 34. Nonetheless, they still syncopate
recall the hemiola of mm. 36-37. These ac- against 34 and deprive it of stability, even in the
absence of any inclination toward 8.
cents first project the half-note pulse of 3, then
double in frequency to accent every quarter Later parts of the development disturb the
note. The 4 meter is clearly projected on opening
the bass motto in other ways. Beginning at
m. 184, for instance, melodic ideas derived from
top staff, and by the basses on the bottom staff,
but the stubborn harmonic dissonance and the mm. 3-4 are carried through a sequence, agi-
agitated hemiola accents associate that meter tated by forzando accents and pointed articula-
with conflict and tension. Moreover, the pas-tion (ex. 17 shows the first two four-measure
sage becomes harmonically unstable and cul-units in a short score reduction). Here the in-
minates in a surprising progression that reworksverted trochee again disrupts the beginning of
the earlier move from D-major to F -major har-each sequence-unit (m. 184, m. 188, and like-
mony (mm. 20-21). In m. 145 the earlier pro-wise m. 192). Although the opening bass motto
gression is effectively reversed: the dominant- was certainly portentous, it began at least with
ninth sonority on F is transformed at the lastmetric stability in 4; throughout the develop-
moment into the dominant of D major (or Dment the motto and 4 are both continually
minor, which will be tonicized in mm. 158- subjected to agitation and conflict.
62). But the implied resolution is quickly The recapitulation reanimates the exposi-
avoided by a familiar sleight-of-hand: the domi-tion's metric discourse between 4 and 6, work-
nant sonority is made to resolve as the German ing a similar effect on 3's inability to attain or
augmented-sixth of C minor, whose dominantsustain tonic stability or a state of lyrical
arrives in m. 146 and is prolonged over the nextwell-being. The coda (part of which is shown in
eight measures. In mm. 150-53 the offbeatreduction on ex. 18) returns once more to the
rhythms that accompanied the second theme opening bass motto and its more stable-but
23
199
19TH Vn., Fl., etc. ( 8yb)

CENT RY 184
M SIC
Ww., Br. ( 8-)

fz f fr ? j
0I
Vc., CB., Trb., etc. ( 8 )

k fz f
190 etc.
,q,; All I i, i ili I

Vc, B. Tb. ec. vb
Example 17: Symphony in B Minor, Allegro moderato, mm. 18
still portentous-3 scansion. Nonetheless,

itself as asome
generator of undisrupted conti
motion.
instability remains, especially when In numerous ways, 3 fails to reso
the prom-
issory implications of the F? from m. 18 are
sometimes antinomic relation with 6,
finally resolved. Beginning in m. even
341 fails
that to F?
overcome
is an agonistic and
conclusively refigured as E andantinomic relationas
deployed with itself, being continu-
the chromatic lower neighbor to ally
F racked by inverted trochees or subjected to
; to empha-
other kindsand
size this enharmonic reinterpretation of internal
thetension and conflict. It
resolution of E is unable
to F , mm. 344-47 to sustain
briefly de- or even fully realize its
stabilize 3 through syncopating own independent
imitation lyric capacity during the sec-
and
hemiola (recalling mm. 134-45; seeond theme,
ex. for the lyric demeanor of that theme
16 above)
involves
until unequivocal 34 scansion returns in a m.
sensuous
348. colloquy with 6. And after
that theme is abruptly
Although the tonic 3 is unquestionable for interrupted in m. 62
the remainder of the movement, the at
(likewise melodic
m. 280 in the recapitulation) 3 pre-
motive from mm. 1-2 that repeats sents a devastatingly tragic tone. Even in the
pathetically
after m. 352 now evidently lacks coda,
the where
power 3 isto
no longer contested, it lacks
the
motivate: 4 meets no resistance in power
this not only to generate continuation
motive,
but it fails to generate melodicbut to reattain the optimistic lyricism prom-
continuation,
ised
lyric freedom, or confirmation. As by the writes,
Tovey second theme; the portentous open-
ingthe
The short coda, beginning like bass develop-
motto returns in the coda as though
ment, and blazing up only to die only
of exhaustion,
to underscore the defeat 3 has suffered in
is very typical of Schubert; but theits attempts-in
exhaustion both themes, and elsewhere-
is here a realized poetic fact, not to achieve conve-
a mere an independent and unequivocal
nience to the composer. 42 identity, and even a transcendent lyric state.
The poetic fact realized by this Since we often associate the lyric mode with
exhaus-
tion, I believe is closely related to the
Schubert, thatulti-
failure is significant. In the re-
maining
mate failure of 4 to attain stability or todiscussion,
realize I shall therefore consider
the subject-the question Was bedeutet die
Bewegung? -by examining the role of the lyric
42Tovey, Essays: Volume I: Symphonies, p. 213. mode in the movement.
24
200
336 Vn. I(Vn. 2 8) cresc. RICHARD

K RTH
Schubert's
nfinished
P via. (Cl. 8-, Bsn. 8 -
P Vc. (Cb. 8) CreSC.
Vn., F1.
348 Ob., C1.
Sf cresc ff pp
Ob., C1 ,Hn. Cl., Hn.
B sn:. -
ww ff
fcresc. Vc. (Cb.
B. Trb. mrf P
PP
361
(tutti)--
I L, . , ,, . - . -
VI fissuring that thing from within, so that the

Despite this movement's moments of met-supplement is ultimately also internal, implicit,
ric antinomy between 3 and 8, I think it unwiseimmanent, or integral to what it supplements.
to posit a binary opposition that makes the twoThe 6 meter bears such a supplementary rela-
meters completely external to one another. Thetion to the notated 34, by reconfiguring the six
8 meter often works, especially in the secondeighth notes within the measure. During the
theme, as a kind of internal stirring that un-
first theme, a supplementary 6 temporarily with-
settles 3 from within, and the meters are betterholds from 4 the stability one assumes the no-
described as supplementary in the sense that tated meter ought to possess. In the second
Jacques Derrida has given the term.43 The theme 3 begins to attain lyric demeanor and
(Derridean) supplement is paradoxically added unencumbered continuity, but the buoyant
to something already thought to be complete, rocking effect owes much to the gentle collo-
quy with 6 and how it figures the supple-
stable, metaphysically self-present and self-iden-
tical; the supplement at first seems to be exter-mentarity of the two meters. The (Derridean)
nal, but reveals a previously unperceived in- supplement, though apparently external, para-
completeness in the thing it supplements, doxically originates within what it supplements
and is always already implicit even when ap-
parently absent. Consequently, the metric am-
43Supplementarity is a concept pervasive in Derrida's early bivalence or even conflict in this movement is
writings, including Speech and Phenomena: Introduction
not only a matter of explicit discourse between
to the Problem of Signs in Husserl's Phenomenology La
voix et le phgnombne, Paris, 19671, trans. David B. Allison the two meters; ultimately it is a function (or
(Evanston, Ill., 1973), esp. pp. 88-104, and Of Gramma- disfunction) of the notated 4 itself. Even when 4
tology De la Grammatologie, Paris, 1967 , trans. Gayatri
is apparently unperturbed by , it is continually
Chakravorty Spivak (Baltimore, 1974), esp. pp. 141-64. Also
useful is the translator's introduction to Dissemination, prevented from achieving stability, self-pres-
trans. Barbara Johnson (Chicago, 1981), pp. vii-xxxiii. ence, and self-identity by jolting inverted tro-
25
201
19TH chees, by harmonic dissonance or ambivalence, ego. 46 The first movement presents a very dif-
CENT CRY by tragic or martial demeanor, and in particular ferent situation-it does provoke considerable
by the disturbing and sublime silence that tension and anxiety. But McClary's approach
abruptly breaks off the second theme (in mm. nonetheless provides insights useful for an in-
62 and 280). I shall return to that moment terpretation of the first movement, because she
later. so successfully engages fundamental histori-
Because 4 is unsettled from both without cal, cultural, and aesthetic questions: how mu-
and within, it must be asserted through an sic acts as a site for the exploration and forma-
agonistic and perhaps even heroic struggle. And tion of individual and social identities, and how
because the two themes (despite contrasts in subjectivity is formulated and projected in mu-
key, mode, and timbre) adopt a lyrical stance, sical works. Here subjectivity can (and should)
the drama of contrast conventionally enacted be examined within multiple contexts, involv-
by more highly differentiated themes is replaced ing the individual composer, the individual lis-
here by emphatic and forceful arguments in tener, the broader notions of individual iden-
favor of 4; these tend to occur in cadential, tity in the cultural and historical period, the
transitional, modulatory, and climax-building social integration of individuals within that
zones-places where an agonistic projection of period, and so forth.47 Despite significant dif-
ferences between the first and second move-
4 summons (or tries to summon) the strength
necessary to transform a lyrical melodic per- ments, McClary's essay suggests that we ex-
sona into a heroic agent. In this movement, plore how an individual subject or subjectivity
Schubert brilliantly enacts a metric discourse might be figured in the first movement and
within the sonata-form discourse; but more examine the possibility of an analogy between
important perhaps, he also confronted (and the ambivalent status of the notated 3 and the
solved) the problem of uniting his own lyrical (agonistic) experiences of an individual subjec-
genius with certain aspects of the Beethoven tivity abiding in the music's representational
symphony, a point to be rejoined later.44 potentiality.
The first movement also does not adopt quite If the first movement is a discursive and
the same model of alternative musical discourse sometimes dialectical struggle-a struggle for
that Susan McClary has recently proposed for the successful realization of a subject or subjec-
the symphony's second movement.45 McClary tivity-involving the status of the notated 4
vividly argues that in the second movement meter, and could be heard as taking up the
Schubert conceives of and executes a musical heroic narrative model in which tremendous
narrative that does not enact the more standard forces are faced and overcome (a model we as-
model in which a self strives to define identity sociate, rightly or wrongly, with Beethoven), in
through the consolidation of ego boundaries. this case the subject, represented in part through
The opening section, for instance, provokes rhythmic and metric sensibilities, does not win
no anxiety . .. it invites us to forgo the security any kind of unequivocal victory. Instead, one
of a centered, stable tonality and, instead, to can hear this subject succumbing to crisis (or
experience-and even enjoy-a flexible sense failure, resignation, fate, etc.), especially as the
of self, which she also describes as a porous movement draws to a close. For McClary, the
first movement is the product of another side
of Schubert . . . that produced victim narra-
Martin Chusid has argued that a sudden perceptiontives,
of in which a sinister effective realm sets
resemblances between the nfinished Symphony's (frag-
the stage for the vulnerable lyrical subject,
mentary) third movement and the trio from Beethoven's
Second Symphony might account for Schubert's abrupt
abandonment of the symphony while working on the trio.
See Chusid, Beethoven and the nfinished, in Franz 46Ibid., p. 215; see also p. 223.
Schubert, Symphony in B Minor ( nfinished ), pp.47Since
98- McClary explores how subjectivity might be en-
110. coded in music, the issue of Schubert's own sexuality can-
45Susan McClary, Constructions of Subjectivity innot be repressed from her essay. Nonetheless, she makes
Schubert's Music, in Queering the Pitch: The New only Gay the most prudent claims in this regard and often
and Lesbian Musicology, ed. Philip Brett, Elizabeth Wood,
points out that sexuality per se is not the main concern.
and Gary C. Thomas (New York, 1994), pp. 205-33. See ibid., pp. 208, 209, 211, 214, 224, and 228.
26
202
which is doomed to be quashed. If the coda the first theme certainly does have repercus-
RICHARD
K RTH
ultimately settles into 4, it is not a 34 that has sions -the word even has rhythmic connota-
Schubert's
attained lyrical well-being and stable identity. tions-and its metric ambivalence is continu- nfinished
As McClary remarks, there is no triumph of ally recast throughout the movement. In the
the self, but rather its victimization at the hands quoted passage, Dahlhaus also describes a po-
of a merciless fate. 48 It is the 4 of a subject eticizing in Schubert's music that tends in-
drowned in a deeper, lower, larger, slower, and eluctably to the lyrical. Indeed, Dahlhaus par-
more primordial substratum-Nietzsche would tially frames the question to be addressed pres-
call it Dionysian -that is represented by the ently, which concerns poetic genres, the lyric
bass motto, which itself becomes reduced to a genre in particular: In the first movement,
mere fragment by the close of the movement.49 Schubert adopted one of Beethoven's struc-
In this regard, Carl Dahlhaus's remarks on tural principles only to apply it to a difficulty
the bass motto and the tragic outcome of the which, though nonexistent for Beethoven, ex-
movement are worth citing at length: ercised composers of romantic symphonies for
decades: how to integrate contemplative lyri-
Schubert attained a Beethovenian dialectic of monu- cism, an indispensable ingredient of 'poetic'
mentality and sophisticated thematic manipulation music, into a symphony without causing the
by basing the actual symphonic development on a form to disintegrate or to function as a mere
theme which appears initially as a mere introduc-
framework for a potpourri of melodies. ' The
tory figure (m. 1) and only later, in the development
concepts of contemplative lyricism and 'po-
(m. 114) and coda (m. 328), proves to be a dominat-
ing idea of ever-larger proportions. This principle of
etic' music suggest that the poetics of genres
evolving a monumental and teleological form from and modes can contribute to our interpretation
of the metric discourse and of the construction
an inconspicuous motive, which does not even ap-
pear as a theme at first, but only attains the function of subjectivity in this music.
of a theme gradually and unexpectedly by virtue of The musical genre at issue here is the sym-
the consequences drawn from it, originated with phony, which makes the figure of Beethoven
Beethoven. Hence, it is no paradox to claim that unavoidable. Beethoven's musical discourse has
Schubert has used Beethoven's devices to solve a
long been characterized as masculine and ag-
problem that Beethoven himself never confronted--
gressive, even though many of his works do not
or, in other words, that Schubert, having poeti- fulfill this model.52 The image of Beethoven as
cized his music in a way that tends ineluctably to
a musical hero-or demiurge-who creates,
the lyrical, drew on Beethoven to satisfy the axioms
that Beethoven himself had posed for large-scale sym-
unleashes, and controls the most powerful
forces and emotions has arisen in particular
phonic form. . ... For Schubert as an artistic persona
(which is something different from Schubert from
as a the reception of his symphonies.53 The
biographical entity), this structural feature mirrors a
thoroughly characteristic expressive compulsion to
5'Ibid., p. 153. Dahlhaus apparently draws this conclusion
draw lyric urgency into an oppressive, and ultimately
because of the more important dialectical role he gives
tragic, dialectical process.50 the bass motto.
520n the history of how the masculine/feminine binary
has been applied to the music of Beethoven and Schubert
The importance Dahlhaus grants the bass motto
respectively, see David Gramit, Constructing a Victorian
certainly rings true, but my earlier analysis
Schubert: Music, Biography, and Cultural Values, this
puts in question his assertion (elsewhere) that
journal 17 (1993), 65-78.
the first theme has no repercussions for 53Dahlhaus
the (Nineteenth-Century Music, p. 76) observes that
the works on which the Beethoven myth thrives repre-
overall form. The complex metric profilesent ofa narrow selection from his complete output: Fidelio
and the music to Egmont; the Third, Fifth, and Ninth
Symphonies; and the Pathetique and Appassionata sona-
tas. It is not a fact in support of the Beethoven myth that
48Ibid., p. 225. these works are 'representative,' but rather one of the
491n a very Nietzschean turn of phrase, Manfred Wagner claims that make up the myth. For recent contributions
(Franz Schubert: Sein Werk-Sein Leben, p. 99) describes on the Beethoven myth, see Scott Burnham, Beethoven
the opening bass motto as quasi aus dem rgrund der Hero (Princeton, 1995); and Tia DeNora, Beethoven and
Tiefe aufsteigend. the Construction of Genius: Musical Politics in Vienna,
50Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, p. 154. 1792-1803 (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1995).
27
203
19TH symphonic genre is particularly significant, for tor); in the epic, the author tells the story di-
CENT RY the symphony is the most public and social of rectly (diegetically), and the individual per se is
the purely instrumental genres. It may lack the generally a center of focus as a historical figure,
explicit narrative dimension that opera and ora- hero, or villain whose acts either represent,
torio enjoy, but among instrumental genres it maintain, change, or undermine the social or-
is most akin to the dramatic or epic genres in der. (The dramatic and epic modes can also be
literature-genres in which acts of social inter- intermixed, depending on the author's direct or
action, or events of collective or historical sig- indirect mode of presentation.) By contrast, the
nificance, are represented.54 lyric mode involves an individual whose inner
So far as Schubert's nfinished Symphony psychological state and subjectivity is the prin-
is concerned, we must contrast the dramatic cipal concern.56 As David Wellbery writes, in
and epic genres (or modes) with the lyric genres the lyric text the subject of enunciation is no
(or mode), especially with respect to the role of longer a social role; it is, rather, a self, which is
the individual and individual experience.5ss Both itself at stake in the communicative action. '7
the drama and the epic represent actions; in the So often in Schubert's works the. subject of
lyric mode, by contrast, it is not actions but enunciation is the deeply interior, personal
mental states and emotions that are represented. experience of an individual subject (or subjec-
In the drama, the author speaks indirectly tivity), rather than exterior events, deeds, or
through various characters, and the main con- appearances in the social world. The latter
cern is the external interaction of those charac- would correspond to the epic mode, with the
ters (although the implications of their indi- slow movement of Beethoven's Eroica provid-
vidual psychologies will also be a dramatic fac- ing a particularly fine example of the symphonic
54The Eroica certainly reflects the immense social signifi- 56Genette (Introduction a l'architexte, passim) shows that
cance of the Napoleonic wars, regardless of the changes from Aristotle until the eighteenth century the lyric mode
Beethoven made to its title page. The Pastoral invokes and the lyric genres were of equivocal, even questionable
images of collective-rather than individual-life in the status; focus on the individual made the lyric mode of
countryside, and Wagner's reception of the Seventh Sym- dubious worth for public poetic discourse, compared with
phony invokes the collective too, in the form of the dance the epic or dramatic genres, which could have collective
(albeit apotheosized ). The social significance of the Ninth significance and serve systems of social organization and
Symphony is unquestionable; its performances at the col- formation. Here I shall focus not on lyric genres but on
lapse of the Berlin Wall and at the opening ceremonies of the lyric as a mode whose focus is the representation of
the 1998 Winter Olympics (with satellite linkage of four internal states and of an individual subjectivity. Some use-
simultaneous performances) vividly record how the work ful remarks on the lyrical mode can be found in Paul
is used to forge experiences of universal collective destiny. Alpers, Lyrical Modes, in Music and Text: Critical In-
Among recent contributions on some of these matters, see quiries, ed. Steven Paul Scher (Cambridge, 1992), pp. 59-
Richard Will, Time, Morality, and Humanity in 74 (esp. 59-63). A very different concept of the lyrical
Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony, Journal of the Ameri- appears in the binary system proposed by Karol Berger in
can Musicological Society 50 (1997), 271-329, as well as Narrative and Lyric: Fundamental Poetic Forms of Com-
two other essays in the same volume: Mark Evan Bonds, position, in Musical Humanism and Its Legacy: Essays
Idealism and the Aesthetics of Instrumental Music at the in Honour of Claude V. Palisca, ed. Nancy Kovaleff Baker
Turn of the Nineteenth Century, ibid., 38 7-420; and Mar- and Barbara Russano Hanning (Stuyvesant, N.Y., 1992),
garet Notley, Volksconcerte in Vienna and Late Nine- pp. 451-70. Berger contrasts narrative and lyric as forms ;
teenth-Century Ideology of the Symphony, ibid., 421-53. the narrative is a kind of form ... in the constitution of
On the Ninth Symphony's continuing social and histori- which the essential role is played by time (p. 458), while
cal significance, see Caryl Clark, Forging Identity: the lyric is the non-narrative, that is, it is the atemporal
Beethoven's 'Ode' as European Anthem, Critical Inquiryform, the kind of form in the constitution of which time
23 (1997), 789-807. plays no essential role (p. 459). Given that we are explor-
55For a probing historical discussion of the theory of genre, ing explicitly temporal aspects of the symphony move-
see Gerard Genette, Introduction a l'architexte (Paris, ment, this concept of the lyric will be of little use in the
1979). There has, of course, been considerable discussion present exercise. For a comparison of the lyric with what
regarding the difference between genre and mode. The ge- he calls the discursive/dialectical, see Peter Giilke,
neric tripartition drama-epic-lyric is widespread in Musicalische Lyrik und instrumentale Grogform, in
criticism up to about 1800; on this tripartition around Schubert-Kongref3 Wien 1978, ed. Otto Brusatti (Graz,
1800, see Introduction a l'architexte, pp. 33-54 in particu- 1979), pp. 207-14, an essay that concentrates on Schubert's
lar. In Angloamerican criticism it is common these days C-Major String Quintet, D. 956.
to encounter the modal tripartition dramatic-narrative-- 57David E. Wellbery, The Specular Moment: Goethe's Early
lyric, in which the epic genre is replaced by the moreLyric and the Beginnings of Romanticism (Stanford, 1996),
general narrative mode. p. 12.
28
204
epic type. But by 1820 or so, as Maynard grand symphony: Of songs I have not writ-
RICHARD
K RTH
Solomon observes, times had changed: Against ten many new ones, but I have tried my hand
Schubert's
the backdrop of an uneasy existence in the at several instrumental works, for I wrote twonfinished
post-Napoleonic age, it became increasingly dif- Quartets for violins, viola and violoncello and
ficult for a Viennese Romantic dissident to bear an Octet, and I want to write another quartet,
witness to great social undertakings; the outer- in fact I intend to pave my way towards grand
most limits of affirmation seemed to reside in symphony in that manner. 61 Does this re-
the survival of individual conscience and remark-which begins on the topic of song (the
fined sensibility. 58 The representation of lyric an genre par excellence), then eventually
interior individual subjectivity is the defining modulates to grand symphony (the pre-emi-
feature of the lyric mode; Suleika I surely falls nent epic genre)-indicate that Schubert did
into the category, and I suggest that the n- consider his unfinished B-Minor Symphony
not
finished Symphony, with its ambivalent met- of 1822 to be grand symphony ? Is this be-
ric Bewegungen, also exemplifies the lyriccause both completed movements adopt the
mode. The metric ambivalence in the second lyric mode to convey individual experience,
theme resembles the gentle colloquy of Suleika rather than the epic mode with its demeanor of
I; elsewhere in the movement the metrical collective or historical-that is, grand -sig-
supplementarity is dialectical and agonistic, but nificance? If so, did he abandon the third move-
even though it is integrated within the sonata- ment-a dance movement that bodes a fairly
form discourse of a large-scale public instru- conventional representation of a collective
mental genre, it still operates in the lyric mode event-because it would have canceled the lyric
of the individual subject rather than the dra-mode at work in the first two movements?
matic mode of social intercourse or the epic There is surely no doubt that the very different
mode of the hero and the collective. The lyric Great C-Major Symphony does succeed as
tone of the first theme, writes Dahlhaus, is grand symphony in the epic mode. Elsewhere
inconsistent in equal measure with both the in Schubert's late instrumental and chamber
dramatic and monumental side of Beethoven's music the epic is often mixed with the lyric,
symphonic style. 59 McClary argues not only but the nfinished stands out as a rare at-
that the aesthetic realm served as one of the tempt to use the lyric mode to project an indi-
principal sites where competing models of the vidual subjectivity in the larger public world of
individual and subjectivity could be explored, the symphonic genre.
but also that the privileged literary genre forThe metric ambivalence in the first move-
this cultural and ideological project was the ment suggests that we question the status and
Bildungsroman, a genre in which we learnstability of an individual lyric subjectivity in
how the proper bourgeois male was to ... forgethe movement. To do so, we must return to
an autonomous identity, but also to cultivate what is probably the movement's most pro-
the sensitivity that made middle-class men wor- foundly unsettling feature: the abrupt silence
thier than the aristocrats they were displac- that interrupts the second theme, just as 4 nearly
ing ; moreover, its musical analog was notattains a stable identity and lyric demeanor,
opera, which always remains grounded in so- and that deprives the listener and the lyric sub-
cial interaction, but rather the seemingly ab- jectivity of a confirming cadence to G major in
stract sonata procedure that organizes most clas- the exposition (m. 62), and to the tonic parallel
sic and romantic instrumental music. 60? B major in the recapitulation (m. 280). The
Poignant and revealing in this regard is grand pause is not new, but earlier composers
Schubert's oft-quoted letter of 31 March 1824,usually used it for witty effect or heightened
describing to Kupelwieser his intended path toambiguity and expectation, often at a point of
58Solomon, Schubert's ' nfinished' Symphony, p. 132.

59Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, p. 153. 61Otto Erich Deutsch, The Schubert Reader: A Life of Franz
60McClary, Constructions of Subjectivity in Schubert'sSchubert in Letters and Documents, trans. Eric Blom (New
Music, p. 212. York, 1947), letter no. 456, p. 339.
29
205
19TH harmonic climax. (The pause at m. 250 of the felt inwardly, viscerally, and subconsciously.64
CENT RY Andante second movement from Schubert's The delicious lilt of the second theme perhaps
M SIC
Great C-Major Symphony is a suggests
case inthe point;
pleasant evaporation of ego bound-
it separates a climactic fortississimo dimin-
aries that McClary interprets in the second
movement.domi-
ished-seventh chord from the pianissimo But mm. 62 and 280 bring about a
veryBut
nant-seventh chord that resolves it.) different
in thekind of dissolution. Here and
nfinished, silence interrupts throughout
at a moment the movement, a subjectivity in
that lacks any obvious harmonic deep inner conflict
ambiguity or is continually revealed by
conflicted
tension. The unexpected silence nicely Bewegungen-by recurring but tem-
corrobo-
rates David Wellbery's assertion that
porarythe lyric of 6 as a viable physical sen-
projections
sibility, discon-
discourse . . . presupposes an abruptly by persistent inverted trochees that
tinuous temporality and that the intimacy
attempt to reestablish 4 but also only keep it
the lyric produces . . . is troubled destabilized,
by a sortunsettled,
of in crisis, unable to sta-
inner hiatus. 62 Sublime in its incommensura- bilize itself, and so on.
bility and unforeseeability, this moment is an No matter whether all of these conflicted
aposiopesis, a sudden halt in mid-expression; it Bewegungen are internal to the movement's
signals a moment of breakdown, an inability tolyric subjectivity, or whether some may be
continue, a sudden loss of voice, a subject fro- imagined to impinge on that subjectivity as
zen and struck mute-and it does so precisely events outside its interior experience, they
at the moment when the subject is about to nonetheless figure and trace that subjectivity
realize and confirm itself with a cadence. Dis- through a sensible physical dimension. The
abrupt silence of mm. 62 and 280, interrupting
ruptive and disturbing, this moment is the mark
of a profoundly personal crisis, a crisis of ex- the second theme just as it is finally about to
pression that mutes an individual lyric subject,realize a lyric sensibility in 4, is not only an
not a collective one.63 aposiopesis of expression, but also interruption
As argued earlier, the second theme is not or denial of an individual subject's bodily plea-
really a Liindler, for it is not staged as a collec- sure.65 The breakdown in mm. 62 and 280 seems
tive or social gathering. Instead, its interaction less a direct response to the pleasures just expe-
of 8 and 4 produces a delicate barcarolle, lend- rienced (or dreamed or recalled) during the sec-
ing the second theme the sensation of a dream ond theme than an abrupt end of that pleasant
or fantasy, and thus projecting an interior sen- illusion, and a sudden horror in response to
sibility and a lyric modality. But that fantasy is present or future reality. For those who en-
not only experienced in a symbolic plane or in tertain Edward T. Cone's argument that prom-
mental images; more important, it also reso- issory notes and their repayment could record
nates physically as bodily sensation, as inter-
nalized Bewegungen, because metric scansion-
like the subject's perception of itself-is often
640tto Brusatti has applied Adorno's famous Berg appella-
tion der Meister des kleinsten Obergangs to Schubert
for his characteristically rapid harmonic transitions, in-
62Wellbery, The Specular Moment, pp. 15 and 17. cluding mm. 38-41 from this movement (see Otto Brusatti,
63Manfred Wagner describes these two moments as ein Schubert-Der Meister des kleinsten bergangs, in Franz
Explodieren der inneren Welt, die sich um Konventionen Schubert-Der Fortschrittliche? Analysen-Perspectiven-
nicht scherte und um aiuBere formale Gliederungen, das Fakten, ed. Erich Wolfgang Partsch Tutzing, 1989 , pp.
Durchbrechen einer individuellen Aufwallung, die jeder 29-36, esp. p. 31). The sophisticated inner metric work-
Norm widerstand (Franz Schubert: Sein Werk-Sein ings of the second theme suggest that we might para-
Leben, p. 102, emphasis added). phrase the epithet and call Schubert der Meister des
In connection with the Sublime and matters of sym- kleinsten Innengangs or der Meister des kleinsten
phonic convention and genre, the agitated music that fol- Innenbewegungs.
lows the silences of mm. 62 and 280 might also be com- 65For a recent exploration of the physicality of performing
pared to the storm scene in Beethoven's Pastoral Sym- Schubert's music, see Philip Brett, Piano Four-Hands:
phony (and to storm scenes in other contemporaneous Schubert and the Performance of Gay Male Desire, this
works). For extensive commentary on the storm scene, journal 21 (1997), 149-76. For another perspective on the
often bearing on matters considered here, see in Richard role of the body, see Suzanne G. Cusick, Feminist Theory,
Will, Time, Morality, and Humanity in Beethoven's Pas- Music Theory, and the Mind/Body Problem, Perspectives
toral Symphony, passim. of New Music 32 (1994), 8-27.
30
206
Schubert's emotional response to his contrac- rhythm and meter-factors that affect our per-
RICHARD
K RTH
tion of syphilis, the C-minor harmony that fol- ception of motion and time in internal and
Schubert's
lows the awful silence of m. 62, in striking visceral ways, but that have rarely played nfinished
a
fulfillment of a promissory connection dating dominant role in discourse about music, its
back to the F? in m. 18, surely conveys an capacities, and their effects. For David Wellbery,
appropriately chilling effect. The metric am- the reading of the lyric becomes a process in
bivale nce and antinomy in this movement not which time emerges for the subject and the
only bear the impression of internal conflict; subject emerges in time, a movement of
even more, because rhythm and meter are ex- temporalized self-constitution, which . .. can
perienced physically, the metric discourse op- attain considerable complexity and ambigu-
erates-like the infection-within the body.66 ity. 68 The preceding analysis also demonstrates,
As McClary rightly argues, music is not a I believe, how a sophisticated and complex am-
sublimely meaningless activity that has man- bivalence in the temporal, rhythmic, and met-
aged to escape social signification but rather ric domain can vividly trace in music the
a medium that participates in social forma- temporalized self-constitution of a lyric sub-
tion by influencing the ways we perceive our jectivity. No matter whether that lyric self-
feelings, our bodies, our desires, our very constitution succeeds or fails as the move-
subjectivities-even if it does so surreptitiously, ment unfolds, the process is communicated vis-
without most of us knowing how. The social cerally, through bodily sensation of rhythmic
formation at issue here does involve the col- and metric Bewegungen.
lective, but McClary's remark also identifiesThe movement also exemplifies Wellbery's
music as a medium that can integrate an indi- claim that lyric discourse is one in which sub-
vidual subjectivity ( feelings . . . bodies . . jectivity
. itself-its emergence, modulations, and
desires ) into that social collective. Likewise,crises-is being elaborated, worked out and
music may be able to integrate the lyric mode on. 69 Even though the metric discourse some-
within a collective genre such as the symphony. times modulates into colloquy, it is disturbed
As McClary affirms, Schubert's solutions by to crises and continually jolted by inverted tro-
the aesthetic problems posed by the represen- chees that attempt to reify 4 even if they cannot
tation of subjectivity and by existing models of
stabilize it. What could better project a sense of
gendered subjectivity required him to rework inner conflict and crisis than the metric ambi-
virtually every parameter of his musical lan- guities, visceral jolts, and the shocking
aposiopeses that disturb this movement? And
guage.' 67 Even so, like almost every other com-
mentator, McClary emphasizes Schubert's ad- not only does metric ambiguity continually pro-
voke crisis so far as the materialization of a
vances in harmonic language, saying little about
stable tonic status for 4 is concerned; the pro-
cess of self-constitution also seems, in the
coda, to meet with exhaustion, if not failure.
66Although I have drawn significantly on Cone's
Schubert's Promissory Note, I hold at arm's length his Some of the jolting crises seem like exter-
idea that Schubert's syphilitic condition is represented by nal events that disturb an internal state of
features of the Moment musical in Ab Major, and even of subjectivity and subjective experience. To some
the nfinished Symphony. Cone's very astute conge-
neric analysis of a promissory E? in the Moment musical degree, such rhythmic events-though they op-
invokes the somewhat abstract domain of harmonic im- erate through a visceral experience-may seem
plication, but leads him to a very specific extrageneric
to represent or signify within a narrative mo-
meaning (on his congeneric and extrageneric catego-
ries, see Cone, Schubert's Promissory Note, p. 14). dality.
By At other times the metric ambiguity
contrast, the present examination of metric Bewegungenworks internally, beneath the surface; in the
in the symphony mostly focuses on the more direct and second theme it is highly internalized and mod-
physical dimension of rhythm and internalized bodily
movement and attempts to relate it to generic matters:els subjectivity through an interior movement
the lyric genre and mode, and their representation of an
individual subjectivity (which is not to be confused with
an individual biography).
67McClary, Constructions of Subjectivity in Schubert's68Wellbery, The Specular Moment, p. 14.
Music, pp. 211-12, 223. 69Ibid., p. 18.
31
207
19TH of such subtlety that it can only be fully com- achieved illustrates the rise of individualism
CENT RY municated through physical sensation. Only that had occurred in the intervening years and
secondarily, if at all, is it a matter of contem- reveals a public ready to respond enthusiasti-
plation, representation, or signification. Its cally to lyrical expression in the symphonic
Bewegung is like the internal stirring aroused genre.72 By lending musical Bewegung a subtle
by the East Wind in Suleika I, and despite the and profoundly internal dimension hitherto rare
much larger dimensions of the genre, the sym- in symphonic music, especially in first move-
phony movement adapts the song's Bewegung ments, Schubert not only gave symphonic ex-
and lyric mode in order to convey the internal pression to an individual lyric subjectivity, but
sensibility of an individual subjectivity through also located that subjectivity in the body of the
the medium of the responsive listener's own responsive listener. As though in answer to the
physical sensations. The first movement is question Was bedeutet die Bewegung?, his
nonetheless not purely in the lyric mode. The symphony helps us understand how musical
large-scale instrumental forces often urge an Bewegungen can convey Bedeutungen not just
internal lyric subjectivity toward the dramatic to aesthetic imagination and contemplation in
or epic modes and perhaps also toward a heroic the mind, but also to physical experience in the
attitude, albeit one that meets only failure.70 body. And by operating through the listener's
Still, it can be no coincidence that this sym- bodily responses to rhythm, it achieved not
phonic movement should share so much im- only a lyric modality but also a profoundly
portant musical and aesthetic ground with a subliminal sense of-and effect on-individual
song, the lyric musical genre par excellence, subjectivity.
and it is not by chance that a question posed in My commentary, it must be added, has im-
a lyric poem has motivated my argument. plicitly associated 4 with a central subjectivity,
Oddly enough, Schubert's symphonic expres- so that 8 emerges as the supplementary meter.
sion of individual subjectivity might have long The 4 meter takes the central role here largely
remained an entirely private one, had not Johann in response to the traditional commitment
Herbeck rescued the manuscript from the ob- many feel for the notated meter. But one could
scurity of Anselm Htittenbrenner's library and certainly interpret the situation in the opposite
produced its first performance in 1865.71 Per- way and associate the central lyric subjectivity
haps the popularity the symphony immediately with the 6 sensations suggested at the start of
each theme, so that the notated (but generally
unstable) 34 becomes a supplementary force that
70Manfred Wagner (Franz Schubert: Sein Werk-Sein Leben, continually prevents a lyrical --whose nota-
pp. 102-03) gives a central role to individual experience in
tional illusoriness may
the movement, but casts it in specific political and his-
be quite significant-
torical context: Hier wurde, politisch gesprochen,from
das sustaining its fantasy. Although it may be
IndividualitatsbewuBtsein der Franzosischen Revolution in far too deconstructive for some sensibilities, I
der musikalischen Fraktur umgesetzt.
71Solomon (in Schubert's ' nfinished' Symphony ) brings
find both alternatives equally compelling, as
new insight to the fate of the autograph score in the hands modes of sensual perception and also of aes-
of both the Hittenbrenner brothers, Josef and Anselm. thetic contemplation. Indeed, it oversimplifies
Schubert sent the autograph to Graz (via Josef
Hiittenbrenner) on 20 July 1823, in thanks for being made
interpretation to associate a lyric subject with
an honorary rhember of the Styrian Musikverein. By care- only one meter or the other. The two interpre-
fully studying the programs performed by the Graz
Musikverein, Solomon also re-evaluates the unfinished tations, by equal measure, are implicitly d.
status of the symphony and suggests that Schubert might
and unavoidably supplementary.
have considered the first two movements to form a work
sufficiently complete for performance there, since the so-
ciety rarely performed symphonies in their entirety, even 72See also Manfred Wagner, Franz Schubert: Sein Werk-
those of Beethoven. Sein Leben, p. 105.
32
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WILLEM IBES
Beethoven’s Piano Sonata

Opus 110 in A-flat Major:
The Mystery of the Missing Cats
A tantalizing enigma presented itself in the course of analyzing the second
movement of Beethoven’s Opus 110, leading me to the tentative conclusion that a
measure may be missing in all printed editions of this work. It seems possible that
between measures 91 and 92 of this second movement, one whole measure has been
inadvertently left out as the result of an orthographic ambiguity in the autograph
(the original score in the composer’s own handwriting). It was a particular method of
analysis developed over the course of many years that led me to this hypothesis.
This methodology consists of three main essential elements that differentiate it
from other generally accepted analytical procedures: (1) a mathematical-proportional
understanding of the motif, (2) the proper identification of the motif, and (3) the
association of the motif with a text and a meaning.¹
First, I use a mathematical manner of analysis which concentrates primarily on the
proportional-metrical aspects of the music, the length of the motif and its placement
within the measure, that is, whether it starts on a strong(er) or weak(er) beat. The
length of the motif can, of course, be altered by the devices of diminution and
augmentation, and it comes as no surprise that Beethoven’s late sonatas with their
wealth of counterpoint exhibit these traits in abundance.
Second, I believe that the generally accepted understanding of what constitutes a
motif has been the cause of misunderstanding the musical discourse of especially the
eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.
About twenty-five years ago, after having become acquainted with the Ur-text
(unedited) editions of the Scarlatti, Beethoven, and Mozart sonatas and the larger
works of Bach, I began to wonder about the easier compositions by these masters
that I taught to my early and intermediate piano students. For example, all the
familiar editions of the famous Bach Minuet in G major (which pianist has not
played it?) insert a slur starting from the first measure into the first beat of the
2 No . 23 — 2 0 06
268
second measure (see Example 1). This always seemed to make perfect sense but what
began to bother me was that the next two quarter notes in the second measure, the
repeated Gs, didn’t seem to have any of what only much later I would begin to think
of as meaning. Over the course of many years I became more and more disturbed
by these two “cliff-hangers,” as well as by the phrasing of the left-hand figures in,
for instance, mm 13 through 16, which were also always slurred across the bar line
(see Example 2):
I felt the same uneasiness when teaching the equally famous Beethoven Sonatina
in G Major (see Example 3). The phrasing of the first measure into the first beat of
the second seemed sensible, but the last three beats of the measure, though sounding
pleasant enough, left me hanging in the air, exactly as the two Gs had in Bach’s
Minuet.
Headwaters A CS B/ SJ U Fa c u l ty J o ur n al 3
269
After deliberating internally over many years, I started to correct my students’

copies. I had come to understand that, almost without exception (and always clearly
marked), the motifs and motif-syllables do not cross the bar line but are contained
within it. Of course, I should have checked editions like Henle’s of the Beethoven
Klavierstücke for these shorter works, but I simply stayed with what I myself had been
taught and taught in turn for forty years. One might think that finally having Bach’s
and Beethoven’s Ur-text editions in hand would have made me see the light, but the
virus that infects the work of us all unfortunately remained undetected.
So, what is this virus that has stealthily burrowed its way into our interpretations
of Baroque, Classical, and a good number of later composers? It is simply the almost
irresistible urge to fall into the cadence, to always play across the bar line or into the
stronger beat of the measure (in a 4/4 measure into the third beat, in a 6/8 measure
into the fourth beat).
The motif of Bach’s Minuet in G Major (see Example 4) consists of two syllables,
“a” and “b,” two perfectly symmetrical measures: in the first measure (leaving out
the passing notes) three quarter notes, D G B; in the second measure, D G G. The
relation between these two “syllables,” which together constitute the complete motif,
is one of thesis and arsis, of down-beat and up-beat.
It is essential that these two parts be properly identified in order to avoid the
meaningless “cliff-hangers.” The structure of the first half of the musical sentence
(antecedent) thus becomes clear: a+b; a+b; a; a; a+b (see Example 5).
As shown in Example 6, this articulation of the motif and its syllables remains
consistent throughout the piece:
4 No . 23 — 2 0 06
270
Beethoven does not differ from Bach in this respect. His early Sonatina in G Major
has a structure that is identical to the Bach Minuet, a structure that is difficult to pin
down without a clear identification of the motif. The motif is composed again of two
symmetrical syllables a and b. (Example 7 gives the slurring the way Beethoven wrote
it, not the “corrected” version of a presumptuous editor.)
271
The complete first (musical) sentence, as in the Bach Minuet, is: a+b (mm. 1,2);
a+b (mm. 3,4), a (m. 5); a (m. 6); a+b (mm. 7,8).
What is it, after all, that makes music intelligible? In other words, how does music
express meaning? Not very different from the way language does. As a book consists
of chapters that consist of paragraphs constructed out of individual sentences,
themselves built out of words, syllables, and individual letters, so a symphony,
sonata, concerto, or quartet consists of movements that are divided into sections,
which in turn consist of individual (musical) sentences, themselves made up out
of motifs, motif-members (motif-syllables) and individual notes. Here, however,
the comparison stops. Whereas language needs many words to make a sentence, in
music, a single motif and its permutations almost always suffice to make a (musical)
sentence, a movement, and sometimes — as in the case of Opus 101 and 111 — a
whole multi-movement sonata.
An obvious requisite for meaning, or intelligibility, in language as well as music,
is that letters (notes), words (motifs), and sentences (phrases or musical sentences)
are grouped correctly. A word like min ceme at makes no sense, whereas mincemeat
is clear. Well, it is my contention that for almost two centuries now we have made
and continue to make mincemeat of Beethoven’s compositions, as well as the
compositions of many other composers.
If I were to write, “Thesa Turd aynig htsh, Owha sbe enabi gsu cc es swi ththe
Enti. recomm unity,” for good measure adding in some strategically misplaced capital
letters, commas, and periods, not a soul would understand that I was commenting
on the success of the Saturday night show. All the right letters are there, but where
is the meaning?
That is exactly Beethoven’s exasperated cry to Karl Holz when he writes in utter
frustration (letter from Baden, dated August 1825): “The notes are all right — only
understand my meaning rightly.”² In the same letter Beethoven continues: “The
slurs must stand just as they are! It is not a matter of indifference whether you
play or . Mind you, this comes from an authority, so pay attention.
I have spent the entire morning and the whole of yesterday afternoon correcting
these two movements, and am quite hoarse with cursing and stamping.”³ I am afraid
poor Beethoven would completely lose his voice were he to return now, after two
centuries, and try to grasp how we could possibly, and so utterly, have deformed his
thought and obliterated the meaning of his music.
6 No . 23 — 2 0 06
272
On the most elemental level, meaning depends, quite simply, on how we group
the letters into words, separate one word from another, where we start and where we
end a sentence. If my name is Wim Ibes (pronounced E-bes) and I write Wimi Bes
or WimI Bes I have changed only the grouping of the letters in these two words, but,
as Beethoven so bitterly complained, the meaning is gone.
What then constitutes the motif, the Gestalt, the Eidos of a composition, and
how does a composer work with that basic idea? Fortunately Beethoven, especially
late-Beethoven, gives us some solid hints by generously supplying his scores with
slurs. Those slurs delineate the motif as well as the (musical) sentence. We can argue
endlessly about one thousand details, but when a basic understanding of motif is
lacking, all the rest becomes guesswork. The rules of punctuation apply to music
as much as to language; commas, periods, colons, semi-colons, question marks,
and exclamation marks are not a luxury but a necessity. In music, these necessary
rules are expressed by “silences of articulation,” a term explained in 17 and 18
century treatises and one that we would do well to re-introduce into our musical
vocabulary.⁴
To recapitulate our investigation thus far we can say that the correct delineation of
the motif, in conjunction with a mathematical-proportional approach, provides the
blueprint of a composition. Leaving out (initially) all the other elements of music
such as melody, harmony, dynamics and even rhythm (but most definitely including
the placement within the meter) it uncovers for us the fundamental genetic material,
the DNA of the work. In simple pieces like the Beethoven Sonatina this method
allows us to easily follow the musical discourse. In complex works, however, we need
more precise labeling than is made possible by mere letters of the alphabet. The third
of my three main analytical devices is now called for.
Already in an earlier analysis of the piano sonata Opus 101 I had — unwittingly
at the time — followed Beethoven’s suggestion when he advises one sometimes to
put (underlay) a fitting text under a difficult-to-understand passage and to sing it.
[… rieth ferner bisweilen passende Worte einer streitigen Stelle unterzulegen und sie zu
singen….]⁵ A text or motto which correctly imitates the metrical structure of the
motif (focusing mainly on its metrical-mathematical properties) enables us to track
all the peregrinations of that motif.
273
The second movement of Opus 110 graciously supplies the implicit text, a
folksong in Silesian dialect, “Das liebe Kätzchen” (see Example 8). Beethoven had
sent it, together with another folksong, in his own handwriting (which he trusted
the publisher would be able to decipher!) with a somewhat insipid harmonization
to Simrock in Bonn, perhaps as some kind of joke, perhaps hoping for some other
favor.⁶
Here, in the second movement of Opus 110 (see Example 9), he uses the melody
with a substantially revised accompaniment, with hilarious results.
Translated into more or less standard German, the second movement’s Scherzo
gleefully relates: Unser Katz hat Kät-zle g’habt, and into English with correct meter-
accents: “Ou-r (two syllables) cat did kittens have,” and then the punch line: drei
und sechsi’ nai-ni! [Three and sixty did she have!]
The opening 16 measures (excluding the repeat) exclaim:
Ou-r cat did kittens ha-ve; THREE AND SIXTY DID SHE HAVE! THREE
AND SIXTY! THREE AND SIXTY! THREE AND SIXTY DID SHE HAVE!
(The capitalized words shout out forte.)
8 No . 23 — 2 0 06
274
The next 24 measures (see Example 10) are based on another popular melody
with the following text: Ich bin lüderlich, du bist lüderlich, wir sind alle lüderlich [I
am lecherous, you are lecherous, all of us are lecherous].⁷
A rather bawdy ditty, it is surprisingly sophisticated: a short break between the first
and second quarter notes, like the hiccups of a drunken sailor, a repetition of the
first (two-measure) motif, then the repetition of just the first (one measure) motif-
syllable, followed by an augmentation of the second measure at the end (see Example
11). Everything is exploited in typical fashion with humor and verve.
Before proceeding I must point out that, for a correct analysis, it doesn't make
much difference whether or not Beethoven had these texts in mind when he wrote
this second movement. I am using the text simply as a device to understand the
structure, following the advice of the Master to find passende Worte.
If readers prefer a text like Jesu, meine Freude (after a famous Bach Cantata) for
the first four measures, and repeating that fortissimo for the next four, placet. They
will reach substantially the same conclusions since mine are based on the rather
immutable laws of mathematics.
I believe there is not the slightest doubt that Beethoven was familiar with both
melodies and texts of these folksongs. Whether these texts actually also offer a
further, deeper level of meaning, in other words whether they express the true
character of this movement, is something I will address in an as yet to be published
analysis of the Sonata as a whole.
The first section, a Scherzo in all aspects, is followed by a middle section, the Trio,
after which the Scherzo is repeated as is standard for the form. If we accept for the
275
sake of our analysis the text of the Trio (as was the case with the Scherzo section, the
text is not made explicit in the score) as what Beethoven had in mind, then we find
the composer returning here to his prolific cat, starting fortissimo at measure 40 and
continuing piano in each of the three two-measure sequences until the end (see the
Appendix B for a visualization of the structure) as follows:
Mm 40/41
THREE AND SIXTY!! Mm 42 through 47 three times: ou-r cat did
kittens ha-ve; each two measures in length (equivalent to the first 4
measures of the Scherzo in diminution)
Mm 48/49
kittens ha-ve
Mm 56/57
kittens ha-ve
Mm 64/65
kittens ha-ve
Mm 72/73
THREE AND SIXTY!! Mm 74 — in mock surprise asking the rhetorical
question THREE AND…?? is cut off in mid-sentence with an imperious
shout:
Mm 75/76
kittens ha-ve
Then, in piano dynamics (diminuendo):
Mm 83/84
Three and sixty (no exclamation mark!) Mm 85 through 90 three times:
ou-r cat did kittens ha-ve
Dropping to a pianissimo:
M 91
A variant of the original two quarter notes in m 5 (and later e.g., in m
40) embellished into four eighth notes “Three and .…..” Three and what?
Oh dear, sixty cats are missing. What happened to them?
10 No . 23 — 2 0 06
276
If we look at the autograph, page 25 of the facsimile edition, Ichtys Verlag,

Stuttgart, we come upon the solution. The sixty cats that we find in the first measure
of the second system (a set of staves) in the autograph were mistakenly considered
as having been crossed out by the composer! It is true, the following bars have a
generous horizontal “X” drawn through them and the top leg of the “X” descending
from the left extends a bit into the territory of the previous measure.
But, as shown in Example 12, the ascending leg of the “X” starts from the lower
left, precisely at the bar line of — measure 92!
In the autograph, measure 92 continues the downward pattern with the expected⁸
F C E-flat D-flat in the lower register, with the high F in the treble on the second
beat.⁹
In other words, if we realize that m 91 is a variant of the Scherzo’s measure 5, it is
not difficult to realize that mm 91 and “new” 92 repeat, pianissimo, mm 5 and 6 (or
40, 41; 48, 49 etc.): drei und sechzig, embellishing this time not just the drei but also
the original two quarter notes of the sechzig as four eighth notes.
What a relief! All drei und sechzig cats are there.
It is true that, at the end of this Trio, the composer did not extend his phrasing
slur over into the second system to include the new m 92 (see Appendix A). It
is therefore possible that the phrasing is correct and that the composer is asking
another rhetorical question as in m 74 — this time pianissimo — “three and,”
giving the answer in the (old) 92, 93, 94, 95, the four times repeated “three-and-
sixty” mentioned above. However, I believe there is nothing here in this ebbing away
diminuendo to suggest anything — like the surprising jolt in m 74 — to warrant
such an interpretation.
277
We should also keep in mind that Beethoven slurs are not infrequently ambiguous.
There are many instances where they do not exactly pinpoint the beginnings and
endings of phrases and, in fact sometimes are erroneous.
The pedal markings delineating the “three and sixty” motif are wrong in Henle
but Schenker follows the autograph correctly. All editions are rife with editorial
legerdemains — the plural is no exaggeration since one “light hand” alone could not
possibly account for the massive and disastrous editorial idiosyncrasies, especially
when it comes to phrasing slurs. Ignoring the latter makes Beethoven unintelligible,
for the primary means of giving meaning to individual notes is how they are grouped
to form motifs and phrases. It is almost unimaginable, as George Barth has amply
demonstrated in his “The Pianist as Orator,” that the falsification of Beethoven’s
thought and writing started even in the composer’s own lifetime and that the main
culprit was none other than Carl Czerny of “Etuden” fame, who at one time studied
with the Master himself.¹⁰
It goes without saying that, as in all Beethoven’s works, a performer must employ
proper “breathing” pauses between the different motifs and motif-syllables.¹¹ In casu,
there must be a breath between mm 40/41 and m 42, with smaller breaths between
mm 43 and 44, mm 45 and 46 and again a slightly larger one in mm 48 and 49. This
can only be understood in the light of a correct analysis, the following of Beethoven’s
advice to underlay the notes with an appropriate text, and, in the present case,
following the pedal markings as the composer wrote them.
I must admit, after having performed this Trio for the past fifty years or so without
this missing measure, that adding it in does take some getting used to. But it becomes
more and more gratifying to get the full-Monty cadence of the tonic spread out over
two bars, instead of the truncated brush with the tonic that m 91 (or 40, 48, etc.)
alone provides. This pair of measures finds, as we may want to remind ourselves once
again, their origin in measures 5 and 6 of the Scherzo where they solidly emphasize
the C major chord.
So, even though my analysis is based solely on the mathematical-proportional
properties of the motif (much more fundamental than either melody, harmony or
even rhythm), aided of course by musical elements such as dynamics, pedal markings
and articulation, both the harmony and the melody — how satisfying that high F!
— confirm its validity. One also cannot fail to sense — once again, assuming that the
text of the folksongs is what Beethoven had in mind — how much more naturally
the following measures (the new 93–96) confirm the previous full D-flat major
cadence, as they continue whispering in amazed diminution “three and sixty, three
and sixty, three and sixty, three and sixty.”
It should be noted that, besides the Autograph, there exits a copy of the whole
12 No . 23 — 2 0 06
278
sonata, the so-called Uberprüfte Abschrift written in a different hand, but with
copious annotations in the composer’s own handwriting. Beethoven’s main concern
in this “Abschrift” is with tempo, articulation, dynamics, fingerings, expressive and
pedal markings, with no apparent attention being given to the text itself, which —
although not without flaws (inaccurate slurring, missing slurs and pedal endings and
at least one textual oversight in measure 193 of the final movement) — is a model
of clarity and accuracy. In this very legible copy “my” measure 92 is omitted. Again
we may wonder: Did the editor of the first edition and the copyist of the “Abschrift”
miss this particular measure and did the composer fail to notice it? Or was it
Beethoven’s intention to leave that measure out and, in doing so, leave us (if I may be
allowed to mix metaphors) with a hobbled horse? For Beethoven, music’s “architect”
par excellence, not to have noticed this discrepancy while composing the Trio and
allowing no fewer than 60 cats to disappear into thin air seems highly unlikely. In
that case the question arises: Why? What was the composer’s reason for doing so and
what did he mean by this? Did he have a different text in mind? No text? Regardless,
the enigma of that missing measure remains and the mystery continues.
The last word on this thesis may have to await the contribution of musicologists
and I am eager to hear their judgment in the matter.
Even after the repeat of the Scherzo, Beethoven is not finished yet with this
remarkable cat. The Coda starts with a forceful augmentation of the Scherzo’s
second theme, further reinforced by pregnant rests, “W I R S I N D A L L E
LÜDER L I C H.” Our felines then come one last time peeping around the
corner in a quick recapitulation (in diminution) of the opening eight measures of the
Scherzo: “Un-sa kätz häd ka-z’ln g’habt, drai und sex si, nai ni.” Incidentally, in the
autograph there is a pedal marking but no (legato) slur under these 8 measures.
The Coda offers another interesting clue concerning the “off-the-beat” counterpoint
in the Trio’s left hand; none other than a “hiccuppy” (inebriated, I dare say): “– wir
– sind – wir – sind – lü – der … and then rushing a beat to end right side up (i.e.,
on the strong first beat) … lich.” Not surprisingly, the Master does not leave the
smallest scrap of material unused.
279
Notes
1. In music, the “motif” is what constitutes the basic idea, the “Eidos,” the “Gestalt” of a composition. The
four-note “victory” motif of the opening of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony is a famous example. The whole
first movement is derived from that pregnant idea.
2. Goldsmith, Harris. Beethoven: The Late Quartets. Booklet. Budapest String Quartet. Columbia Records,
1962. Beethoven’s letter to Karl Holz can also be found in The Letters of Beethoven, translated and edited
by Emily Anderson (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1961) Vol. III, pp. 1241–42. The translations vary.
3. Goldsmith, Booklet. Also see Anderson, Vol. III, 1242.
4. A wealth of information is given in George Houle’s Meter in Music, 1600–1800: Performance, Perception,
and Notation (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987). Perhaps the most lucid description can be
found in Father Engramelle’s “La tonotechnie” (1775), with its minute and succinct description of the
“silences of articulation.” See especially pages 110–23.
5. Schindler, Anton. Biographie von Ludwig van Beethoven (Münster: Aschendorff, 1871), 236-37, my
translation. Schindler’s biography has been translated into English, Beethoven As I Knew Him (New York:
W.W. Norton, 1972).
6. Anderson, Emily. Letters, II, 882–84.
7. Martin Cooper, too, suggests that these two melodies “lie at the root of the scherzo” in Beethoven: The
Last Decade 1817–1827 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), 190–91.
8. Cf. mm 41, 49, 57, 65, 76, and 84 (transposed in mm 57, 65, and 73). I have added Appendix A in an
attempt to clarify this.
9. Note the right hand part is written in the bass clef, the left hand part in treble clef.
10. Barth, George. The Pianist as Orator: Beethoven and the Transformation of Keyboard Style (Cornell, NY:
Cornell Press, 1992). See especially 81–120.
11. Cf. Houle, Meter, “silences of articulation” (110–23).
Appendix A
The end of the Trio with the "missing measure" in a dotted line.
14 No . 23 — 2 0 06
280
Appendix B
Structural Analysis of Beethoven Opus 110 II Trio
281
BARBARA BARRY
Invisible cities and imaginary landscapes

‘quasi una fantasia’: on Beethoven’s op.131
I will put together, piece by piece, the perfect city, made o f fragments mixed with the rest,
o f instants separated by intervals, o f signals one sends out, not knowing who receives
them.
Italo Calvino.1
I
The hedgehog and the fox, Isaiah Berlin discusses
N h is f a m o u s e s s a y
a fragment from the ancient Greek poet Archilochus and interprets it in
a rather unusual way. 2 According to Archilochus, ‘The fox knows many
things but the hedgehog knows one big thing.’ Clearly, the hedgehog’s
i. Italo Calvino: Invisible one big thing is the defence tactic of curling up in a ball, spikes out, to
cities, trans. William Weaver
repel an invader, although no one cares to spell out what the fox knows.
(London, 1997), p.147.
Nietzsche discusses how it Commentators in the past have taken Archilochus’s rather cryptic remark as
is essential to forget as well an implicit criticism of fox-like behaviour, where people flit from one interest
as to remember in order
to retain one’s humanity. to another rather than focusing on a central plan of action. Hedgehogs don’t
He says: ‘Imagine the come off any better in the assessment stakes as they put all their eggs in one
most extreme example, the
most extreme example of basket instead of having at least one version of Plan B.
a human being who does Berlin, though, has a different, and more positive view of both hedgehogs
not possess the power
and foxes. Without pushing the distinctions to extremes, he contends that
to forget [...] All action
requires forgetting, just as singularity and diversity characterise different kinds of writers and, by
the existence of all organic extension, human beings in general. Hedgehogs are motivated by a single
things requires not only
light, but darkness as well’: governing principle which provides a core identity to the writer’s output
Friedrich Nietzsche: ‘On the and plays out in different works in a variety of guises. Proust’s ‘memoire’
utility and liability of history
for life ’, in Unfashionable is an example of such a core characterisation which opens out in a series
observations, trans. Richard of vivid images, each with its own distinctive atmosphere and imagery -
T. Gray (Stanford, 1998), Combray, Balbec, Doncieres, Venice. Nevertheless, the landscapes of place
p.89. Nietzsche’s timely
meditation is explored are all refracted though a different kind of terrain, the narrator’s hyper-
in Borges’s famous story sensitive temperament, with its recurrent patterns of fantasy and anxiety,
‘Funes the Memorious’,
about a young man who played out in successive love relationships across the landscape of desire.
has suffered concussion Foxes, on the other hand, do not subscribe to any over-arching principle.
after a fall which left his
They are often risk-takers, challenging existing norms of structure and
body almost paralysed, but
with a mind studded with language. Rather than a central concept, foxes often address specific issues
detailed memories. These through a range of contrasted solutions. Shakespeare, for example, focuses
memories, though, have
no organising categories or
points of reference but are a spectator of a multiform, Memorious’, vet Labyrinths: 2. Isaiah Berlin: The hedgehog
vivid succession that he can instantaneous and almost selected stories and other and the fox: an essay on
neither connect nor forget, intolerably precise world’: writings (Harmondsworth, Tolstoy’s view o f history
as ‘the solitary and lucid Jorge Luis Borges: ‘Funes the 1970), pp.87-95, atp. 9 4 . (Princeton, 2013).
THE MUSICAL TIMES Spring 2 0 I J 5

6 Invisible cities and imaginary landscapes ‘q282
uasi una fantasia ’
on failed leadership as conflict crisis in Macbeth, Richard II and Julius Caesar,

and controlling fathers as authority figures in Hamlet and King Lear.3Diverse,
inventive - foxes push boundaries of style by combining the logical and
the unexpected. They recalibrate style by juxtaposition and confrontation,
and interpolate different temporal strands into the main action. Like the
monologues in Hamlet and Othello, this ‘time out’ from the action on the
stage reveals previously unforeseen dimensions. Unpredictability also
opens up new relationships of parts to whole, deconstructing the narrative
as disjunctive time and re-viewing motifs. Italo Calvino’s Invisible cities is
such a kaleidoscope of fragmented images, eroded by time, but retained as
residues of memory.
Among writers, then, Proust is a hedgehog, Shakespeare and Calvino
both foxes. But singularity and diversity are not limited to writers. They are
complementary approaches in all kinds of creative activity —in painting,
as the allusion/illusion of space, and music, as the sonic structure of time.
Among painters, Raphael is a hedgehog, Leonardo and Caravaggio foxes.
Among composers, Bach is a good contender for musical hedgehog while
Stravinsky takes the prize for arch-fox.
In the distinctions between singularity and diversity in musical works,
singularity, at least in tonal works, is often identified as a unifying idea.
Rudolph Reti describes it as the prime motif from which the movement or
work unfolds,4 while Heinrich Schenker, also drawing on morphological
imagery, posits the fundamental linear/harmonic pattern as the ‘Gestalt’
3. See Stephen Greenblatt: that supports the movement’s hierarchy of ‘Stufen’.5Looking at works the
W ill in the world: how
Shakespeare became other way round, as ‘bottom up’ rather than ‘top down’, systemic premises,
Shakespeare (London, 2005). such as dissonance/resolution in the key and relationships between keys,
4. Rudolph Reti: The thematic are realised by stylistic criteria as ‘play-ground’, and made concrete by
process in music (repr. individual composers’ choices. Play and interplay between ripieno and
London, 1978); Thematic
patterns in the sonatas o f concertino in the early 18th-century concerto grosso, for example, provide
Beethoven (New York, 1967). the referential context for Bach’s individual contrapuntal realisations in
5. Heinrich Schenker: The the Brandenburg concertos and the first movement of his Concerto in D
masterwork in music, 3 vols minor for two violins, where successive fugal entries of subject and answer
(1925—30), ed. William
Drabkin, trans. Ian Bent, define the exposition of a ritornello movement (ex.i). Such identifiable
William Drabkin, Richard characterisations across a range of musical works can be described as the
Kramer, John Rothgeb &
Hedi Segal (Cambridge, composer’s imaginary landscape.
1995); Five graphic music Imaginary landscapes are part of contemporary mind-sets, especially in
analyses, ed. Felix Salzer
fantasy and science fiction and movies, as alternative scenarios of reality.
(New York, 1969).
Such landscapes are located primarily in one of three zones: in a remote,
6. Immanuel Kant: The
critique o f pure reason, fictive future; in a remote, possibly fictive past; and in a post-catastrophe
trans. Werner S. Pluhar, scenario of our world. But as Kant notes in the Critique o f pure reason, 6 our
intro. Patricia W. Kitcher
perceptual ability to construct new worlds is limited by our hard-wiring:
(Indianapolis, 1996),
PP*524 25- so inhabitants, robotic and human, of alternative worlds behave, at least in
283
Ex.i: Bach: Concerto for two violins in D minor BWV 1043, first movement, opening
T H E M USICAL TIM ES Spring z o i j 7

some ways, like our own. If musical compositions are alternative kinds of
reality, then the composer’s imaginary landscape is also a creative construct
of networks and narratives in which we identify the composer’s distinctive
turn of phrase. Alternative realities in music, fiction or film are not just
about external architecture of style but the internal architecture of fantasy
and poetic memory. The imaginary landscape is also the landscape of the
7. G. Gabrielle Starr: Feeling
beauty: the neuroscience imagination.
o f aesthetic experience By contrast with the identifiable core characteristics used by hedgehogs,
(Cambridge, MA, 2013), p.i5.
foxes are motivated by problem-solving through technique. Questions in-
8. Tim Hodgkinson has
trinsically posed by musical problem-solving, such as conflict/concordance
recently argued that music is
not necessarily a wholeness or parts to whole, impel innovative solutions of language and design that
as in stylistic unanimity may involve collision or interpolation as dimensions of structure. Problem-
but rather a collision of
otherwise incompatible solving may elicit radically different solutions to works written in the same
kinds of information, genre in close proximity of time, solutions that often upend expectations of
brought together as the
perceptual model o f early
style or design in one or more strategic dimensions. Not all such solutions
21st-century listening: Tim will necessarily be confrontational although some may. New realisations of
Hodgkinson: Music and the lyricism and fantasy in some works may coexist with fierce conflict in others
myth o f wholeness: towards
a new aesthetic paradigm as alternative modalities of problem-solving.7
(Cambridge, MA, 2016). In the second model, where problem-solving involves both collision and
Hodgkinson’s stance is
the extreme point of the
concordance of style dimensions, the musical work is conceived as invisible
issue raised by Adorno that city, how a musical work may be re-imagined.8 Beethoven’s Cft minor
Beethoven’s late works are
Quartet, op. 131, will be considered as a case study of an invisible city, marked
a dissociative distancing
from the middle period by radical reinterpretations of compositional technique and collisions
works, effectively viewing of style between movements; and it is to this multi-dimensional view of
late Beethoven from the
perspective of dislocation problem-solving that we now turn.
in Schoenberg: Theodor
W. Adorno: Beethoven: the
T
philosophy o f music, ed.
h e C# minor quartet was the fourth of the five late string quartets,
Rolf Tiedemann, trans. written in 1826 after the completion of the three quartets, op.127,
Edmund Jephcott (Stanford, op. 130 with the Grosse Fuge finale and op. 132, dedicated to Prince
1998). This perceptual re-
viewing, or, as described Galitzin. It has seven movements, more than any other Beethoven string
here as re-imagining, is quartet: five main movements, with a slow fugal first movement, spirited
discussed by Maynard
Solomon as a paradigm D major 6 /8 second movement, medium tempo variations, Presto scherzo
shift away from implicit in cut common time and rhythmically incisive finale; and two short
classic/romantic frames of
reference in Beethoven’s
introductory links or connectors.
late works, in ‘Beethoven: Two strategic re-alignments devolve from the opening movement as
beyond classicism’, in The slow movement in op.131: one is the re-alignment of dynamic weighting
Beethoven quartet companion,
edd. Robert Winter & between the movements; and the second is a striking repositioning
Robert Martin (Berkeley, of structure and perception. Despite the unusual position of the slow
Los Angeles & London,
movement at the beginning of the work, prime material in the fugue subject
r994), PP-59-73, reprinted
in Solomon: Late Beethoven: and answer, in particular the chromatic semitone and as seen in ex.2a,
music, thought, imagination
will be played out on a range of fronts across the work. The chromatic
(Berkeley, Los Angeles &
London, 2003), pp.27—41. semitone and Neapolitan supertonic are featured in the finale as a critical
285
part of the relationship between the framing movements (ex.2b); and as the
key of the second movement, Dt] also forms part of the tonal plan of the
whole quartet. By contrast with these implicative roles of realisation for
the structural network, the fugue’s perceptual character at the beginning
of the work draws inwards as lyrical reflectiveness, and through folds of
contrapuntal layering, as closure. Without the directional implications of a
sonata allegro, momentum has to be jumpstarted for the second movement,
from C# to D. Just as the first movement is dialectical between structural
implication which ‘reaches out’ in realisations in the work and expressive
character which pulls inward on itself, so the connector between the first and
Ex.za: Beethoven: String Quartet in C# minor op.131, first movement, opening, showing fugue subject
and answer
Ex.2b: Beethoven: String Quartet in Cjt minor op. 131, finale, bars 182—202, showing chromatic semitone
and Neapolitan material
THE MUSICAL TIMES Spring 20iy 9

io Invisible cities and imaginary landscapes ‘quasi una fantasia ’
286
Ex. 2b continued
second movement breaks away from the soundworld of the first movement
by means of the chromatic semitone at a larger level (ex.3).
The fugue first movement of op.131 is part of the range of fugues
in Beethoven’s late piano sonatas and string quartets: powerful, rhyth-
mic finales in the ‘Hammerklavier’ Piano Sonata op. 106 and the Grosse
Fuge in the Bb major String Quartet op.130, and the lyrical finale of the
Ab major Piano Sonata op.no. Fugal finales in the late works can be seen
to address two different but inter-related issues: one is solving problems
of contrapuntal technique to align horizontal lines of subject and answer,
transition and episode, within governing vertical harmonic premises, and
to order the fugal design within a tonal plan as crucial as in a sonata form
movement. The other challenge is the structural issue of the finale as large-
scale resolution, where earlier strands of the work are ‘revisited’ in the
context of the finale as reprocessed memory —what could be seen as the
287
Ex -3: Beethoven: String Quartet in Cjt minor op.131, first movement, bar n o —end & second movement, beginning
[Adagio...]
m
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bk K P
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p cresc.
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THE MUSICAL TIMES Spring 201J II

12 Invisible cities and imaginary landscapes 288
‘quasi una fantasia ’
Ninth Symphony finale scenario now reconfigured in fugal contexts. From

this perspective, the interpolated section in the Grosse Fuge, Meno mosso
ed moderate in Gt> major, bars 159-232 is time replayed. Set within the
movement’s powerful confrontational stance, the Meno mosso ed moderate
section recalls earlier parts of the op. 130 quartet: the lyrical second subject
of the first movement in Gb major, the flat submediant, and on the parallel
position of flat mediant, the Andante con moto, ma non troppo, in Db major.
9. Elaine Sisman discusses The finale of op.no is an even clearer revisiting of remembered time. At
the locations of musical
memory, which are
its midpoint, the fugue is intersected by a recitative which recalls the slow
reprocessed in the finale movement. Interpolated into the middle of the fugue, the recitative is a
of Beethoven’s Ninth window of time which temporarily suspends action by turning backwards to
Symphony in ‘Memory and
invention at the threshold of the slow movement. From a structural point of view, the recitative is literally
Beethoven’s late style ’, in the turning point, since the second half of the fugue ‘re-turns’ as a mirror
Beethoven and his world, edd.
Scott Burnham & Michael P. image, with the subject in inversion (exx.4a & 4b). But in a metaphorical
Steinberg (Princeton, 2000), sense, the recitative at the centre of the fugue is also a ‘returning point’,
pp.51-86. She also notes that
interpolated memory as a kind of haunting from the musical past. As such,
fantasy was understood in
Beethoven’s time as both it recalls other such hauntings in Beethoven’s works, such as the ghostly
creative imagination and as replay of the Fifth Symphony’s scherzo in the finale and the quasi-operatic
a kind of reminiscence or
associative memory (ibid, scena of reappearance and disappearance of the earlier movements at the
p.56). beginning of the Ninth Smphony’s finale.9
Ex.4a: Beethoven: Piano Sonata in Ab minor o p .u o , Fuga, beginning

Allegro man no troppo
289
Ex.4b: Beethoven: Piano Sonata in A t m inor o p .n o , Fuga, second half, beginning
L’istesso tempo della Fuga poi a poi di nuovo vivente

Nach undnach wieder auflebend
Unlike the other late fugues, the fugue of op. 131 is not in a major key, nor
a finale, and does not ‘gather in’ the strands of earlier movement, as may
occur in the finale of end-weighted works. Conceivably, though, it is an
even more remarkable re-interpretation of fugue technique and expressive
characterisation. Just as the fugue as finale has two interrelated issues of
structure and technique, so the fugue as first movement projects two
dimensions of problem-solving, one within the fugue, the other between
the fugue and the finale. In the first case, how to answer the fugue subject
io. Douglas Johnson, Alan is critical because the successive array of subject and answer in the initial
Tyson & Robert Winter: The exposition opens up the movement’s ‘implicative space ’- as the tessitura and
Beethoven sketchbooks: history,
reconstruction, inventory tonal domain within which the whole action of countersubjects and episodes
(Berkeley, Los Angeles & will unfold. Faced with an intransigent problem in both real and tonal
London, 1985), pp.482-97;
Robert Winter: Compositional
dominant answers, as revealed by the multiple sketches,10 the subdominant
origins o f Beethoven %opus solution for the answer reveals a critical component of the prime material,
131 (Ann Arbor, 1982), the Neapolitan Dfc| (ex.5). Dtj will challenge the primacy of the diatonic
in particular, ‘Plans for
the structure of op.131’, supertonic, which appears in the reconfigured answer in violin 1, bar 100,
pp. 127-34. and will inflect tonal digression to other keys in the first movement, as in the
THE MUSICAL TIMES Spring 2 0 1 J 13

Ex.5: Beethoven: String Quartet in C# minor op.131, first movement, opening. Note the Neapolitan Dt| in
the answer.
detour to Eb minor, bar 45. But in a work where the dialectics of conflict and
connection abound on many levels, Dt) is a double agent: tonal dissonance
as chromatic conflict against C+t minor within the fugue and finale versus
integral part of the large-scale tonal plan of movements.
The other level of problem-solving is the relationship of the fugue to
the rest of the quartet, and in particular to the finale. On account of its slow
first movement, op. 131 falls into none of the three main first movement/
finale models in Beethoven’s works: the matching model, where the finale
is in the same key and same or similar character to the first movement, as in
the ‘Appassionata’ Sonata op.57; the ‘tension/resolution’ model, where an
intense minor key movement resolves onto the tonic major finale, usually
open in character, as in the Fifth Symphony and also the Ninth; and the end-
weighted finale, where the finale is longer than the first movement, and in
some ways, a culmination of the whole work, gathering in its strands as well
as concluding the work. The Ninth Symphony is in this type as well as being
‘tension/resolution’ model, as is the String Quartet in Bb major op.130, with
the Grosse Fuge as finale.
Instead, the op.131 fugue, with its minor key reflective first movement,
proposes a different kind of first movement/finale relationship: from
inward reflection to defined resolution, via tonal digression and contrasts
of style in the interim movements. Interestingly, op.131 shares this first
movement/finale trajectory with op.130, as a connection between the two
works otherwise so radically different from many other perspectives. But
while the overall contour of the two quartets is similar, it is not identical.
As I suggested in a previous discussion of op.130, the contrast of the first
movement’s freer, more lyrical style to the stringent fugal finale can be
considered as a reworking of the model of the prelude and fugue, as paired
291
‘free’ and ‘strict’ writing from Bach’s 48 Preludes and Fugues. Beethoven
had played and studied the ‘48’ with his teacher Neefe when he was
about 13 and they provided one of the first and certainly most important
compositional models." In addition to its specific context in the prelude and
fugue, ‘free ’ writing appears in a number of different ways in the late works:
as expressive lyricism, in the first movements of op.127 and op.130; and as
recitative, where different temporal strands, as ‘time out’, are interpolated
into more structured contexts, like the first movement of the E major piano
11. Barbara Barry: sonata op.109 and the ‘Beklemmt’ section of the Cavatina of op.130. The
‘Recycling the end of Allegro moderato transitional link in op.131 between the second movement
the Leibquartett: models,
meaning and propriety in in D major, Allegro molto vivace, and the A major variations, Andante,
Beethoven’s Quartet in B-flat ma non troppo e molto cantabile, uses recitative in a different kind of way,
major, opus 130’, in The
philosopher’s stone: essays in as part of the tactics of exit and entry. Following the abrupt break from
the transformation o f musical the D major movement, recitative is dissolution that clears the ground for
structure (New York, 2005),
the opening of the variations. It may have been in this expanded sense of
pp. 156-77. Reference to
Beethoven’s study with technique and imagination that Beethoven described to Holz ‘a new kind of
Neefe can be found in voice-leading and no less fantasy than before’ in the late quartets.12
Thayer s Life o f Beethoven, 2
vols, rev. & ed. Elliot Forbes But there may also be a more particular sense of voice-leading and
(Princeton, 1964), vol.i, fantasy in op.131. While the substructure underpinning of the first move-
p.274.
ment is a fugue, its expressive character, and perhaps even the work as a
12. Letter to Wilhelm von whole, as Leonard Ratner has suggested, is a fantasia.13 This reading of
Lenz in 1857, in Holz:
Beethoven: eine Kunst-Studie, op.131 as fantasia, and especially the first movement, acquires interpretative
vol.4 (Kassel, i860), p.216. perspective when compared to Beethoven’s other important work in
13. Leonard G. Ratner: The C# minor, the ‘Moonlight’ Sonata op.27 no.2, ‘quasi una fantasia’. Both
Beethoven string quartets: works open with the slow movement, a position virtually unprecedented
compositional strategies and
rhetoric (Stanford, 1995), in Beethoven s works, with similar meditative character, piano dynamics
p.235. and legato articulation (ex.6). Both end with finales impelled by intense,
Ex.6: Beethoven: Piano Sonata in Cjt minor op.27 no.2, first movement, beginning
THE MUSICAL TIMES Spring 20IJ I5

driving rhythm. Slow first movement to rhythmically charged tonic minor

finale creates an overall trajectory from reflection to resolution, and from
contemplation to defiance.
Fugue as fantasia, then, can be sited within two frames of reference: one
as ‘strict’ writing, part of the range of fugue characterisations in the late
works; and the other as ‘free ’ writing, which also appears as lyrical reflection
and recitative, realised here as fantasia. But this two-fold characterisation is
not limited to the fugue first movement of op.131.The double parameter
of ‘strict’ and ‘free’ can be regarded as the Gestalt of the late works, the
hedgehog plan of campaign. This Gestalt is not identified as style/systemic
characteristics but as a blueprint of conceptual plans. In the first movement
of op. 131, it is realised as vertical alignment, where fugue structure underpins
the movement as technique, and as horizontal unfolding, as inward expressive
style. During the course of the work, the ground-plan plays out as alternation
of ‘free’ and ‘strict’ between the quasi-improvisatory linking movements
leading to more ordered forms of variations and finale (exx.ya & 7b). As
well as between movements, alternation of ‘free’ and ‘strict’ also occurs
within the variation movement. Towards the end of the movement, from
bar 220, a series of recitative-like entries for each instrument dissolves the
momentum into trills. By contrast with the use of recitative as dissolution in
the FK minor link between the second and fourth movements, the recitatives
in the variation movement are a point of reflection within the movement
and lead to the last variation, which is garlanded with trills, as if the trill as
dissolution of the recitative becomes integrated with the last variation as
metrical order. The same contour of suspension and integration using trills
near the end of a variation movement also occurs in the second movement
Ex.7a: Beethoven: String Quartet in C(t minor op.131, third movement, leading to fourth movement, beginning
293
Ex.ya continued
THE MUSICAL TIMES Spring 201J 17

18 Invisible cities and imaginary landscapes ‘quasi una fantasia ’
294
Ex.yb: Beethoven: String Quartet in C# minor op.131, sixth movement, leading to finale, beginning
295
E x.yt continued
of the C minor Piano Sonata o p .m , as an imaginative realisation of the

parameters of ‘strict’ and ‘free’ ‘von anderem Planeten’ (exx.8 & 9).
If the dialectics of ‘strict’ and ‘free’ are the imaginary landscape of the
14. Anthony Storr: Music and late works, then how these elements play out in individual works —the
the mind (New York, 1992), fox-like methods of problem-solving — are invisible cities, as constructs
P 64.
of design and Affekt in alternative realities. While musical works often
1;. Theodor W. Adorno:
Aesthetic theory (London & reflect the contours of experience of conflict and concordance, departure
New York, 1997), p.2. and return, as analogues of human journeys,14they are nevertheless located
16. George A. Miller, Eugene in a domain discrete from physical existence. As Adorno says, artworks
Galanter & Karl H. Pribram: ‘detach themselves from the empirical world and bring forth another world,
Plans and the structure o f
behavior (Eastford, CT, as opposed to the empirical world.” 5As plans in the structure of behaviour,
2013). to paraphrase George Miller, Eugene Galanter and Karl Pribram,'6 invisible
THE MUSICAL TIMES Spring 201J 19

20 Invisible cities and imaginary landscapes 296
‘quasi una fantasia ’
Ex.8: Beethoven: String Quartet in Cjt minor op.131, fourth movement, bars 225—33
297
Ex.p: Beethoven: Piano Sonata in C minor o p .m , second movement, bars 160—66
f rfaritfrrrr p ff
-0
cities are problem-solving strategies that help identify the Gestalt elements
of the imaginary landscape, and show how they play out in specific contexts.
The chromatic semitones in the fugue subject of op.131, for example, are
shaped as inward folding contour in the movement’s reflective context
by contrast with the strident pairs of chromatic semitones, confronted in
opposed tessituras, in the Grosse Fuge subject. Elements of the invisible
city as plan in the structure of behaviour accordingly play out, not only as
stylistic characterisation and contrapuntal techniques in individual works,
but through networks in formal platforms.
From this perspective, the subject and answer in op.131, as well as the
basis of contrapuntal discourse, also comprises a pitch collection which
is realised as macrostructure in the keys of the movements: Dlq, the focal
element in the answer and potentially digressive element in C# minor, is
the key of the second movement, Allegro molto vivace, which has a similar
role of discursiveness and play in the work overall; F# minor, as the key
of the fugue answer, is the key of the recitative-like link leading to the A
T H E M U SICA L T IM ES Spring Z O I J 21
major variation movement, Andante ma non troppo e molto cantabile (both

Dfc] and A are marked with ‘s f ’ in the subject and answer, as in ex.5); the
pitch E, part of the fugue subject in Cjj minor, is recontextualised in the
fifth movement E major Presto; and Gjt, with which the work opens, as
minor dominant, Gjt minor, Adagio quasi un poco andante, is the reflexive/
reflective link, which leads into the rhythmically incisive Cjj minor finale.
Between the framing first movement and finale, the keys of the interim
movements form an ascending number of sharps in the key signature from
two to five, a conceptual plan that underpins the juxtapositions of style as
musical foreground.
Two pitches in particular in the conceptual tonal plan play salient roles
in its foreground realisation, one diatonic in Cjj minor, the other chromatic.
Fjj, as the key of the fugue answer, has an essential role in the diatonic
network of Cjj minor, enhanced in the answer by the expressive chromatic
semitone Ejt-Fjj, which features in the overlapping contracted entries after
the initial fugal exposition (ex.ioa). Fjj also plays significant roles in the
finale, underscoring the opposite relationship between first movement and
finale. Fjj returns not only at the local level of the phrase, as Fjj-Ejj, the
inversion of the chromatic semitone in the fugue answer, but it also plays
a distinctive role at the larger level of form in the finale, featured f f ’at the
development as a critical part of the movement’s tonal design (ex.iob). But
there is also a sense that the opposite characterisation of first movement
lyricism and finale conflict is forefronted in the relationship of Fjj and Cjj.
The successive subject and answer entries of Cjj minor and Fjj minor which
unfold the musical space in the fugue are reversed in the finale coda as
contracted antithesis between Fjj minor and C# major. Instead of resolution
Ex.ioa: Beethoven: String Quartet in C# minor op.131, first movement, bars 20—26
L
299
in the tonic major, tension between the two keys is sustained to the very end
of the work (ex.ioc).
By contrast with F# s diatonic role, Dt|, the Neapolitan supertonic,
featured s f ’ in the fugue answer, is chromatic in C# minor, and potentially
an agent of tonal digression and/or dislocation. As with F#, D e| occurs
similarly at two levels of organisational structure: one as the key of one
of the interim movements, and the other in the finale, to bring back and
replay strategic features from the first movement, as recapitulation for the
work. Dlq, as chromatic subversion in the C# minor fugue, returns in the
finale as a ‘revisiting’ that occurs, strategically, in the finale recapitulation.
In the recapitulation, the finale’s second subject returns first in D major (bar
216), recalling its earlier appearances in the work, in particular as chromatic
Ex.iob: Beethoven: String Quartet in C# minor op.131, finale, bars 78-81
[Allegro]
Ex.ioc: Beethoven: String Quartet in Cjt minor op.131, finale, bars 371-end
T H E M USICAL TIM ES Spring zoiy 23

24 Invisible cities and imaginary landscapes ‘300
quasi una fantasia ’
Ex. io c continued
Poco adagio
interpolation in the fugue’s tonal fabric. The second subject is then replayed
in C# major, grounding the key of the work as tonic major. This ‘double’
key recapitulation is reminiscent of the first movement of the ‘Waldstein’
Sonata, where the E major second subject in the first movement exposition
returns in the recapitulation, first in A major, a third below the tonic as E
major was a third above in the exposition, and then in C major, as the key
of the movement and work. In op.131, partly because of the chromatic role
of Dlq in the tonic key and partly because the first movement is not a sonata
movement with its own recapitulation, the finale acquires the large-scale
function of recapitulating the Gestalt elements from the fugue within its
own declarative role as the conclusion of the work. In the finale coda (bar
329), the Neapolitan makes its final appearancepp before disappearing off
301
the stage in a work where it has played the tactics of interpolation —game,
set and match.
While Dt| is chromatic in C# minor, contesting the ground of tonal
direction and deflecting closure, Dl] is also diatonic within more local Fjt
minor contexts —and this diatonic framing connects the two salient pitches
of op.131. It is diatonic at the local level of F# minor as subdominant fugue
answer (ex.5), and in other Fjt minor contexts, such as the Allegro moderato
link to the variation movement in A major, a key in which it is also diatonic.
Pitch functions of either concordance or conflict accordingly depend on
specific levels of context as well as their location in the tonal network. The
Neapolitan supertonic in a minor key, which featured as agent of conflict
in middle-period works like the ‘Appassionata’ Sonata op.57 and the E
minor ‘Razumovsky’ String Quartet op.59 no.2, returns in op.131 in new
demeanours, recontoured in the fugue from confrontation to interpolation.
In addition to its specific role of chromatic semitone in C# minor, is
replayed throughout the work as musical memory. Side by side with its
function of chromatic interpolation in Cjj minor, F)\\ is also reframed within
diatonic contexts of Fjt minor and A major, as part of the work’s larger, and
more encompassing tonal networks, and played out as dimensions of ‘free ’
and ‘strict’ writing in the work’s compositional strategy.
T
in Beethoven’s late works, as a problem-
h e im a g in a r y l a n d s c a pe
solving scenario, elicits highly innovative, fox-like solutions in the
structure of musical behaviour. Within this landscape, ‘free’ and
‘strict’ writing play out in each work as the individual contours of invisible
cities. ‘Free’ writing appears as improvisatory recitatives, interpolated as
‘time out’ into more ordered contexts of sonata, variation and fugue, and
provides connecting links between movements in the work as a journey.
As a counterbalance to this more exploratory side, ‘strict’ writing, in fugue
and variation not only appears in new expressive guises, but as a part of
Beethoven’s innovatory thinking, ‘borrows’ recitative and trills from the
‘free ’ side in the recontouring of musical space. In the imaginary landscape,
focal pitches are reinterpreted later in the work, as large-scale anchors of
time and structure. The ‘play-ground’ of ‘strict’ and ‘free’ can be seen as a
kind of blueprint, actualised as imaginative solutions of style, relationships
of parts to whole and numbers of movements.
In constructing new solutions to the issues of narrative and networks
in the late works, the dramatic plan of sonata design was not so much
abandoned as repositioned in expanded concepts of the declarative and the
reflective, and between structural paradigms as defined order and all kinds
of play, ‘quasi una fantasia’. The dialectics of ‘strict’ and ‘free ’ writing, then,
can be seen as the conceptual background for problem-solving solutions as
t h e m u s ic a l t im e s Spring 20iy 23
26 Invisible cities and imaginary landscapes ‘quasi una fantasia’
302
plans, not only in the structure of behaviour but of campaign. Contrasted

solutions, as in the opposite narratives of the Fifth and Sixth symphonies,
are now replayed in the groundplan of ‘strict’ and ‘free’ in op.130 and
op. 131: and in each case, the pairs of works are both contrasted in style and
connected as structural premises. The compositional strategy of ‘strict’ and
‘free’ in the late works projects striking profiles of lyricism/ confrontation
and digression/resolution, re-imagining the imaginary landscape through
the diverse soundscapes of invisible cities.
303
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Vormanalyse I

Analysis of musical forms I

Docent: Philippe Lamouris

A Piano Contest by Arthur Jacobs

FEBR ARY IO, 189I.

THE RONDO FORM, AS IT IS FO ND IN THE

BY C. F. ABDY WILLIAMS, M.A., Mus. BAC., O ON.

SOME months ago, during a conversation on Musical Form,

96 The Rondo Form.

do not require mathematical precision in the construction

The Rondo Form. 97

appears in a new key or a thematic development of the

the first subject has the following form: There is

98 The Rondo Form.

eight bars, ending with a full close on the keynote; then a

Tempo di Minuetto. n '

First, there is a period of eight

The Rondo Forn. 99

times, and four times again at the repetition of the first

too The Rondo Form.

modulation, leading back to the re-entry of the first subject.

the key of C is largely used in No. I., and therefore

is omitted, and a deceptive cadence ta

Beethoven seems indifferent as to the full close in this

the second subject is in C-

-it comes to a full close in that key, and then there is a

102 The Rondo Form.

may be considered to be in three sub-d

In this Rondo not only does No. II. consist

The Rondo Fornm. 103

In Mozart's Trio in B flat, the first subject of the Rondo

-- i I P ! iw , 1 '--. L dTI I 1. II ----

also in Beethoven's Sonat

o104 The Rondo Form.

modulations through many keys, just as there is in the

The Rondo Form. 105

In this case Nos. I. and II. consist each of two divisions;

,3SC r:i-. I I -r0 -li

io6 The Rondo Form.

noticed in his works-the movement is in six-eight time,

and the Rondo from his Serenade Quartet in G-

are both in Sonata form. That is, there is no repetition o

The Rondo Form. 107

There are cases in which the third subject is omitted

and shows that there is

occurs again as the first four notes of the second subject,

io8 The Rondo Form.

for which, as an example, he gives the Largo from

Then there is a third entry of No. I. and a Coda. Marx

The Rondo Form. Iog

not think they can be really necessary for purposes of

IIO The Rondo Form.

THE CHAIRMAN.-The paper we have just listened to w

The Rondo Form. Ill

Miss PRESCOTT.-I should have thought it simpler to say

112 The Rondo Form.

of the same name. It consisted of double stanzas of four

As Friedemann was only twelve years of age when

But the matter is not quite so simple as he makes

the countersubject would really be only the inversion of

second half, Hkewise a very precious addition, as it

therefore gives opportunity in the developments for the

In the answer a change of interval is seen at the outset