The next selection is the beginning of the beautiful closing movement of the Sonata, opus 90. This movement takes the place of a slow movement in this sonata, and it is entirely in lyric style, except where the imperative need of relief has led to the introduction of less connected and sustained matter. The melody itself is one of the best of Beethoven's. The illustration comprises the first thirty-two measures.

In the next division of selections we come upon the Beethoven faculty of diversifying a musical theme in the form of variations. The examples here given represent certain of the simpler phases of this part of his art, and if the student is ambitious in this direction he might read for himself the variations upon the waltz in C, or the famous thirty-two variations, in which endless varieties are obtained from a very simple theme. A still more highly developed example of this art is found in the last sonata of all, opus 111; but these are too difficult for our present use.

The theme and variations in C, from the Sonata in G, opus 14, are easy and pleasing. The theme itself affords a very pretty contrast between the staccato of the first period and the close legato of the second period. Then the sweetness of it is relieved by the strong syncopations which break it up, toward the end (measures 17 and 18). The first variation has the melody in the tenor, unchanged excepting to make it legato. The right hand deals mainly with syncopated repeated notes.

The second variation is much more broken. The left hand plays the bass upon the beat, while the right hand comes in with a chord containing the melody at the half beat. The third variation brings the melody again in the bass, with an accompaniment figure in sixteenths for the right hand. At the end there is a lovely coda of six measures. Throughout these variations the harmony and the melody have not been changed. Only the place of the melody and the rhythm of the accessory accompanying figures have been changed.

A still more remarkable illustration of this phase of the Beethoven genius is found in the andante and variations which form the second movement of the Sonata Appassionata, opus 57. Here the variations are not indicated in the notation, but the player has to find them for himself, which is easy enough, because the two periods of the theme, each of eight measures, are exactly repeated in the following variations.

The theme itself has a church-like character, almost "sacred." This is due to the first harmonic step from tonic to subdominant and back again, in the manner of the "Amen" cadence so well known in anthems. In the second period there is an intense and almost strained expression due to the chord of 4-2, the seventh low in the bass. The first variation plays the melody in the same place as in the theme, and in the same chords; but the bass enters a half beat later and holds over, so that a restless and searching expression results. The second variation, again, is very reposeful. The melody is only suggested in the upper tones of the right-hand part, and the sixteenth motion is intended to have a certain chord-like character; meanwhile the bass has a part somewhat like a melody suitable for 'cello. The third variation brings the melody high in the treble (later changing again to the left hand in the middle range of the piano), while the left hand performs an arpeggio figure in thirty-seconds. At the end a lovely coda of sixteen measures, recalling the theme in its original form. Throughout these variations not only is the harmony and melody of the theme never varied, excepting in time of coming in, but the spirit of the theme is everywhere retained. Observe that the coda is not concluded, but interrupted by the entrance of a diminished chord, leading into the key of F minor. In place of this chord, end with a chord of D-flat, directly after the dominant chord preceding the diminished chord, when the finale is not to be played.

Quite different from the foregoing are the highly humoristic variations of the Sonata, opus 26. These, being designated in the copy, require only mention and characterization. The theme is three periods in length, the second opening with a syncopation. The first variation follows the harmony of the theme, but in a broken manner, not alone in the cutting up into sixteenth notes, but also in changes of position upon the keyboard. This tendency to excitement continues in the second variation, where the melody is in the bass, in octaves broken into sixteenth notes. The third variation changes the mode to minor, and the musical treatment contains strong syncopations, implying much suppressed passion. The fourth variation is a scherzo, bounding from one point of the keyboard to another, like a musical Ariel. The fifth variation returns to the harmony and manner of the theme, but in the first eight measures the melody is held in reserve, suggested rather than fully brought out, in order that the complete appearance of the melody, legato, in the ninth measure shall be more effective. The whole closes with a beautiful coda of fifteen measures. (Count back from the end, if you do not find it at first.)

Still more humoristic is the scherzo from the Sonata in C, opus 2, No. 3. Here the principal subject is quite in fugue style, excepting the order of keys. In place of answering in the fifth, it answers in the octave.

It is unnecessary to add that this is a pure fancy-piece, the imitations being unexpected and capricious, and never for the sake of completing a pattern or form. The trio is a complete contrast, and very free and effective upon the keyboard. Then, after the return of the scherzo, we have a delightful coda of twenty-three measures.

Less pronounced, but very beautiful, is the allegretto from the so-called "Moonlight Sonata," opus 27, No. 2. This is gentle, and designed to mediate between the intense sadness of the first movement and the equally intense and impassioned sorrow and longing of the finale.

The sonata-piece is one of the most serious and diversified movements known to music, and while continuous and characterized by great unity, it is also rather complicated. Hence it will not be properly appreciated except by those who observe the leading ideas as they enter and recall them when they turn up again in the course of the treatment and development. When a sonata is written for orchestra it becomes a symphony, in which form the different ideas are more easily followed because they derive a certain individuality from the tone-color of the instrument first announcing them. When an artist plays a sonata he seeks to intensify the individuality of the leading ideas and thus aid the hearer in recognizing and remembering them.

The first example of sonata-piece is the rather light and pleasing allegro which begins the Sonata in G, opus 14, No. 2. The Principal subject lasts through twenty-four measures, the Second entering in the key of D with the beginning of the twenty-fifth measure. The Conclusion begins with the forty-seventh measure. Counting from the double bar, the Elaboration lasts, including the pedal point upon the dominant which prepares for bringing back the Principal, sixty-one measures. There the first part begins over again.

The first movement of the Sonata in F minor, opus 2, No. 1, is shorter and the subjects less marked than in any other sonata of Beethoven. It also has less "stuffing," the ideas following with very little passage work between them. The Principal lasts twenty measures, the Second beginning with the F-flat in the soprano at the end of the twentieth measure. The Conclusion begins with the C-flat in the soprano, in measure forty-one. The Elaboration lasts sixty-two measures.

The "Sonate Pathetique" begins with a slow introduction, lasting ten measures of very slow time. Then enters the headlong allegro, of which the Principal, with its retinue of modulating sequences, lasts forty measures. The Second enters in measure forty-one, and the Conclusion in measure seventy-nine. The Elaboration lasts sixty-two measures, beginning with a few measures of the introduction.

Time will not be wasted if before playing each of these movements the subjects themselves be played through separately.



CHAPTER V.

BACH, MOZART, AND BEETHOVEN COMPARED.

The present program brings together a few representative selections from the two greatest masters already noticed, for the purpose of bringing out more clearly the individualities of their style and the predominant flavor of their work. In this comparison we are not as yet undertaking to represent either Bach or Beethoven in their moments of greatest and most impassioned abandon. The so-called "Moonlight Sonata" approaches this point in the case of Beethoven, but if it had been desired to perform the same service for Bach larger works would have been taken, such as the "Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue," the "Fantasia and Fugue in G minor" for organ (arranged for piano by Liszt), and the like. And for Beethoven the sonatas in F minor, opus 57, "Appassionata," the opus 106 in B-flat, and opus 111 in C minor. All these go much farther in the untrammeled expression of deep feeling than any of the works brought together upon the present program, even the "Moonlight Sonata," although the finale of this is distinctly representative of Beethoven in the impassioned and strong. As for Mozart, this headlong passion was not at all in his line. But for the sake of showing the peculiar sweetness of his imagination in contrast with the more concentrated expression customary with Bach and Beethoven, his Fantasia in C minor is here included.

Before entering upon the actual acquaintance with the works in the program, it is advisable for the hearer to be disabused at the outset of certain prepossessions likely to be harmful. The most important of these is that which regards Bach as having had a higher idea of his art than later composers had, and of having intended to illustrate in his works a very high degree of skill, contrapuntal cleverness, and the like. This prepossession is included in the phrase which describes all serious music as "classical," as contradistinguished from that which is merely beautiful and pleasing.

Bach had, indeed, great originality, but he came by it honestly. His mental activity in musical directions was of such a spontaneous character that immediately a theme presented itself all sorts of possible treatment occurred to him. If the theme pleased him he immediately began to develop it, and in the course of this one happy thought after another presented itself, without having been sought for or worked out in the slightest. Thus his highest and largest works have a good deal the character of play, so easily were they composed. True, they do not present to the player of the present day nearly so much of this quality, for the technic required to play them well is not quite that of the ordinary pianist. Bach expects the hands to play melodiously and very fluently, and the player to think in fugue; i.e., be able to follow the answering voices in a fugue without becoming confused when there are three, four, or five, and without losing any one of the threads. This habit of thought—for this is what it amounts to—is not natural to the present generation, since nearly all our music is more or less monodic (having one leading melody and an accompaniment.) Therefore the art of playing Bach has to be diligently mastered by much playing and a great deal of hard study.

PROGRAM.

Bach, Prelude and Fugue in C-sharp major. Clavier, No. 3. Beethoven, Sonata in C-sharp minor ("Moonlight"), opus 27, No. 2. Bach, Fantasia in C minor. Mozart, Fantasia in C minor (from Sonata and Fantasia). Bach, Allegro from Italian Concerto. Beethoven, Sonata in E minor, opus 90. Bach, Prelude and Fugue in G major. Clavier, No. 15. Beethoven, Sonata in D minor (Shakspere's "Tempest"), opus 31, No. 2.

Every art-work, in whatever line, has to satisfy three prime conditions: unity, symmetry, and variety. There can not be an impression of beauty into which these three qualities do not at the same time enter, but the beauty will differ in quality according as one or the other element preponderates. In the successful music of Johann Sebastian Bach (and he wrote unsuccessful music as well as other men) we find all these qualities represented, but not in the modern way. A prelude or a fugue of Bach is essentially a "monody," a composition of one idea, which preponderates so decidedly as to enforce its character and individuality upon the work; nay, it is the work. Variety and symmetry are always present, but the variety is to be found in the modulatory treatment and in the counterpoint—the various accessory ideas which appear in the course of the work for better setting off the leading idea forming the substance of the composition. Hence we have in Bach, along with a unity which pervaded every single idea and every succession of ideas, a variety also going on at the same time (as in the melody of the different voices, rhythm, etc.); and symmetry, which also expresses itself as between ideas heard simultaneously and between ideas and paragraphs introduced successively. A Bach work, therefore, is rather complicated almost always, and needs to be studied a little, and the art of hearing it appreciatively has to be acquired; but once we have mastered it, there are no works in music which are more fresh or permanently pleasing.

The Bach selections upon the present program include three preludes and fugues, those of C-sharp major, C minor, and G major, all from the first volume of the "Clavier." There is no necessary connection between the prelude and the fugue following, except that in Bach's idea they somehow corresponded or contrasted in such a manner that they could be heard agreeably in connection.

The prelude in C-sharp, which opens the program, consists of a long leading idea (eight measures) which is repeated completely six times in the course of the work. After it has been heard four times,—in the keys of C-sharp, G-sharp, D-sharp minor, and A-sharp minor,—it is relieved by a modulatory interlude, constructed out of new material (measures 33 to 46). Then the original theme is resumed in the subdominant of the principal key (F-sharp major) and is given entire in the original key of C-sharp, the repetition being exact. In measure 63 the conclusion begins. It consists of a pedal point upon G-sharp, treated very pleasantly, and relieved and developed in measures 75 to 91 by interesting matter of a more impassioned character. At measure 91 the pedal figure returns, and is abandoned only at measure 101, after which the end speedily follows. (Before playing the piece have the parts played and explained separately, each division as here marked, and then the whole prelude entire.) The work as a whole is singularly light and pleasing.

The fugue is built upon the subject in the soprano at the beginning, running two measures. This subject is repeated entire ten times, and fragments are used over and over again.

In immediate contrast with this work is placed the so-called "Moonlight Sonata"—the title affixed not by Beethoven but by some fanciful writer. The first movement of this is quite as much a monody as anything of Bach's, but with a difference. Little is attempted in the way of modifying the harmony of the theme except to carry it through several different keys, nor is there much accessory matter employed as filling. It is practically a song,—an ode if you like,—of a melancholy, grieving character. Its structure will be understood by aid of the following analysis: It begins with a prelude of four measures, after which the leading idea enters in the key of C-sharp minor, closing in E-major, four measures. After a measure of accompaniment the subject resumes in C major, proceeding immediately to B minor, after a cadence in which an accessory melodic bit is introduced, having the character of suspending the action, eight measures, ending in F-sharp minor. The leading idea now enters in F-sharp, five measures, and three little melodic bits followed by eleven measures of arpeggio matter hold back the action for the return of the theme in measure 42 (first accent in 43). Everything in this movement grows out of the leading melody, and the movement has no skeleton or orderly arrangement of parts except in a very general manner.

The allegretto which follows is practically a sort of scherzo, in song-form with trio. Then comes the very dramatic finale, consisting of three main elements handled in the style of a sonata-piece. The Principal extends to the first beat of the twentieth measure. On the second beat of this the Second enters and runs twenty-three measures. With the second eighth note of this measure a movement of eighth notes in chords enters, which forms the concluding piece. This carries us to the double bar, after which a free fantasia follows upon the same material. The free fantasia extends to two measures of whole notes, thirty-six measures in all, where the original theme returns and the first part is recalled in different keys. At the end there is an added coda of thirty-four measures counting from the end of the piece.

The Prelude in G major of Bach is another pleasing illustration of his manner. It is very simple in construction and needs only to have the first two measures and a half played in advance for defining the subject, and the fourth measure once, to define the second leading idea. Everything else is developed out of these ideas. In measure 11 some new material is introduced and treated with excellent effect.

The fugue is rather an elaborate one. After the subject has been carried through the first time, the subject is introduced in a new form, in inversion (measure 43, alto), all ascending passages in the original being now imitated in downward directions and by the same interval. This taken as a new subject affords ground for much additional development, and later on the fugue becomes very complicated and interesting. When well played, however, the complication is only an incident of a very playful and varied composition. In the entire work there is no lyrical idea; everything comes thematically.

In the Beethoven sonata which I have chosen for contrast, D minor, opus 31, No. 2, the thematic mode of construction is also marked, but the contrast of subjects is very much greater than in the Bach work, and the effect of the whole impassioned to a high degree. Beginning with a slow arpeggio chord (two measures) the first theme follows only to be interrupted in the sixth measure. In the seventh the Principal subject is resumed, and in measure 10 a new motive appears in the vigorously ascending bass theme, which is immediately answered by a soprano counter theme, measures 11, 12, 14. This carries us forward to measure 30, where an episode comes in not unrelated to the first theme, and again in measure 44 a passage of chords practically forming a pedal point, and the conclusion proper in measure 55. In the elaboration these themes are delightfully treated, and the entire movement has much the character of an improvisation. The slow movement continues the rhapsodical spirit of the first movement. The finale is one of the most delightful examples of charming effect reached by means of composition essentially thematic.

The Sonata, opus 90, in E, is one of the most pleasing of Beethoven, and, aside from a certain figure in tenths for the bass (measures 55 to 58, and again later on), it presents no serious difficulties for the player. The second movement is a delightful song, which is carried out at great length.

The first movement of Bach's Italian concerto is much more modern in style than the other pieces of Bach in this program. Without ever quite reaching the modern conception of the lyric, it at least approaches it closely at times, and produces a beautiful effect.

Of the Mozart fantasia there is not room to speak in detail. Note, however, the very clever modulatory treatment of the leading idea in the first two pages, and the entrance of the lovely slow melody in D major near the end of the second page. The latter is Mozart-like in the extreme.



CHAPTER VI.

SCHUBERT AND MENDELSSOHN.

FRANZ PETER SCHUBERT.

Born January 31, 1797, at Lichtenthal, near Vienna. Died November 19, 1828, at Vienna.

Franz Peter Schubert, the great song-writer, was born, the son of a parish schoolmaster, at Lichtenthal, near Vienna. The family was musical, and the father and a few of his friends used to hold quartet parties every Sunday afternoon, at which the works for string quartet then current were played, also compositions by Haydn and other good composers. The boy very early showed such talent that his father taught him the violin, and occasionally allowed him to take part with the rest. He had a beautiful soprano voice, which, attracting the attention of the director of the music at St. Stephen's Cathedral, secured him admission to the choir and to the Imperial Convict, or school for educating the choristers for the Court-chapel, where, besides the usual branches of education, he was taught music thoroughly. This continued until his voice broke, whereupon he was turned out to shift for himself. For the three years next following he assisted his father in the school, teaching the lowest class in it, and proved himself, it is pretty certain, a very indifferent teacher. Later he resigned this position, and struggled on during his short life mainly by the assistance of friends, one of whom saw to it that the indefatigable composer was supplied with music paper; another shared his room with him, etc. Between 1818 and 1824 he spent his summers at the Hungarian estate of the great Prince Esterhazy, teaching the daughters music and arranging music for the household. Here many of his works were written. In Vienna he had an orchestra of school-boys for quite a long time, which probably played his works occasionally, as well as those of composers of less complicated works.



Schubert began to compose in earnest very early, and by the time he was twenty years of age he had written about 400 of his songs. His works comprise a volume of pianoforte sonatas, several volumes of light works for piano, about 600 songs, nine symphonies, of which two are among the greatest we have, one opera, several masses, and a large number of compositions for chamber music.



FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY.

Born February 3, 1809, at Hamburg. Died November 4, 1847, at Leipsic.

He was the nephew of the celebrated Jewish philosopher and reformer, Moses Mendelssohn, and a son of the well-known banker, Abraham Mendelssohn.

The family was Israelitish, but Felix Mendelssohn was brought up a Lutheran. The boy was of a very amiable and thoughtful disposition, and was well instructed in music from his earliest years, his principal teacher having been the celebrated theorist, Zelter. His first appearance in concert was made at the age of nine, in the piano part of a trio by Wolf. A year later he appeared as a singer. His acquaintance with the orchestra commenced very early. There was a small orchestra which met at his father's house on Sunday afternoons, and by this means the compositions of the boy were tried and he himself acquired his experience as a director. His activity as a composer commenced about 1820. In this year he wrote a violin sonata and two clavier sonatas, a little cantata, and an operetta. In 1821 Zelter brought him to the great poet Goethe, who heard his music and conversed with the lad with great interest. The friendship with Goethe continued for many years. In one of his letters Mendelssohn tells of having visited the poet and having had a long conversation with him, in which the poet had given an account of Hegel's lectures on esthetics, which Mendelssohn had heard that winter in Berlin, and in which Goethe was very much interested on account of the novelty of the ideas presented. The first of the important compositions of Mendelssohn to be published and played was the overture to the "Midsummer Night's Dream," which was written in 1826 and played immediately. He seems to have worked this out upon the piano, improvising it piece by piece as he became excited in reading Shakspere's comedy. This overture is of most complete mastery in its working out and of thorough originality, and scarcely anything of his later works surpasses it in merit as a finished composition for orchestra.

It was largely through Mendelssohn's influence that the "St. Matthew Passion" of Bach was brought out and given entire in Berlin, in 1829, just one hundred years after its first production in Leipsic. Mendelssohn was the conductor, and it was given in the Sing-Akademie. This was the work of a boy of twenty. Nothing could speak more plainly of the authority which his genius gave him than that he should conceive and bring to completion an undertaking of this magnitude in a city like Berlin at so early an age. He made many journeys for pleasure and instruction. Full accounts of these will be found in his charming letters, which are among the most delightful contributions of this kind that any literary man or artist has left. During one of these journeys he visited the Hebrides, and afterward produced his overture called "Fingal's Cave," as a memory of that visit.

Mendelssohn attained great celebrity as a pianist and organist, the latter mainly by his improvisations, although he has the credit of having been one of the first to play Bach's fugues in England. The late August Haupt, however, told one of his pupils that Mendelssohn, in his time, never had an adequate pedal technic but played upon a sort of hit-or-miss principle, which generally succeeded from his thorough grasp of the music. He early produced his concerto for pianoforte in G minor, and played it at many musical festivals. He was in great demand as a director for festivals in Germany and also in England. He became director of the Gewandhaus concerts at Leipsic in 1835, and in 1843, with very distinguished artist associates, he founded the Conservatory of Music at Leipsic, which, under his management, became so celebrated. Mendelssohn produced works in almost every department of musical composition, a great variety of chamber music, symphonies, overtures, one opera, and a very large collection of music for the piano-forte and organ. Probably his fame will last longer through the influence of three works—viz., the "Midsummer Night's Dream" overture, which opened the new world of the romantic; the oratorio of "Elijah," which is in very many respects one of the most beautiful ever written, just as it is also fortunate in the selection of subjects and of the episodes for treatment; and the "Songs Without Words" for the pianoforte, which, while not of remarkable depth, are very beautiful and poetic compositions of such quality as to awaken in the musical world a new appetite and a new appreciation of an instrument which has now become the most universal in use.

All the works of Mendelssohn are distinguished for clearness of form, elegance of sentiment, and delicate fancy. They are more feminine than masculine, although at times he has a great deal of strength. His pianoforte writing is not so well suited to the instrument as that of some other composers, such as Chopin and Liszt, and his concertos, although very popular, are not ranked among the master works of this form of composition. Of all the pianoforte music which he produced, the "Rondo Capriccioso" is the one which most completely represents the characteristic range of his imagination.

The two composers for the present chapter have distinguished themselves in almost every walk of composition. Schubert left a large quantity of manuscript, most of it unheard until after his death, consisting of about 700 songs, nine symphonies, various pieces of chamber music, pianoforte sonatas, dances, marches, overtures, one opera, and many miscellaneous compositions. In every department of this vast activity there are a few works which stand out as masterpieces. To begin at the top, his "Unfinished Symphony" and the great Symphony in C are in the very first line of orchestral masterpieces, standing well up alongside the greatest of Beethoven, and with an originality of style and beauty wholly independent of the overshadowing Beethoven, who was, just at the moment of their composition, engaged in his last works, including the immortal Ninth Symphony.

Nevertheless, while Schubert was great in all musical directions, he marked an epoch in one direction, and therefore has a fame peculiarly his own. As a songwriter he was one of the greatest the world has ever known. His fame in this department rests upon two wholly different considerations, the union of which in the same composer forms the epoch-marking peculiarity already mentioned. As a melodist he stands in a rank by himself. His melodies move easily, now within the diatonic mode, and now in the chromatic, but generally, within the limits of each period, in the diatonic mode. The melodies are flexible, well balanced, very singable, and natural. Each comes up, lives its day, and dies away into silence, like a lovely flower unfolding from its own germ in the moment of the year when the sunshine and the showers have brought the time for its appearing. In this case the predisposing external cause leading to the appearance of one of these melodies is found in the poem chosen for text. Whatever Schubert read, if it interested him, immediately called up within him a melodic form. These melodies not only differ from one another by degrees of indescribably delicate gradation, but each as it comes proves itself adapted to the text which gave it birth. These lovely melodies, moreover, are supported by pianoforte accompaniments which at times rise to a co-ordinate rank with the melody itself as part of the expression of the poem. Sometimes the so-called accompaniment is itself almost the main thing. Such cases are found in "The Erl King," "To Be Sung on the Waters," and "Gretchen at the Spinning-wheel." At other times the accompaniment is as simple as the melody, and serves no other purpose than that of supporting the voice. A typical case of this kind is found in "Hedge Roses," and in "Hark! Hark! the Lark." It is another peculiarity of Schubert that, beginning with an entirely simple melody, he sometimes digresses to a remote key, within which for a moment he goes quite as simply, only to return again immediately to the main key. The "Hark! Hark! the Lark" is a case of this kind. (Note the transition to G-flat in the ninth measure.)

The universal type of Schubert's music is the melodic. This we find in the pianoforte sonatas quite as plainly as in the songs themselves. In the minuet and march on the present program the melodic ideas are the main thing. Charmingly naive are the little waltzes upon the present list. Beautifully simple, delightfully symmetrical, their simplicity relieved by short modulations into neighboring keys, it is not possible to find elsewhere compositions so short, so simple, and yet so beautiful. In spite of their brevity and simplicity, the student will find them worth knowing thoroughly. It is also an excellent exercise for the student to learn some of these by heart and to play them in several different keys.

As an illustration of Schubert's cleverness in treating the pianoforte, which is already sufficiently evident in the dramatic accompaniments of his larger songs, before mentioned, attention is called to the Impromptu in B-flat—the air and variations known as "The Fair Rosamunde," the title due to the appearance of this melody in his opera of "Rosamunde." At least three of these variations display great finesse in treating the pianoforte. The first needs to be done with the utmost delicacy and lightness, the melody suggested rather than brought out. The third has a new rhythm and a melodic secondary figure in the left-hand part, which, taken with the treatment of the variation in the right-hand part, gives this piece a wholly new content and effect. The fourth, again, is equally novel and equally significant for the pianoforte. The remaining variations are of little importance, although, as a matter of course, all are to be played.

Mendelssohn as pianoforte composer represents two very important and characteristic moods—the scherzo and the song without words. It is probable that by the good fortune of the latter name for his collections of little piano pieces Mendelssohn rendered the musical world a greater service than he did even by the elegant quality of his compositions themselves. It was the happy thought of the title which at once puts the listener upon the right track, and disposes him to try to discover what the words of the unworded songs ought to be. It was a fortunate guess rather than a something thought out by reason, and if he had been pressed to assign a reason for including some of these pieces under the name, he would probably have been driven to confess that they were so included because he did not know what else they were.

The "Songs Without Words" embody many types, the most important being the true cantabile—pieces in which there is a flowing lyric melody with a soft accompaniment. These pieces are in effect nothing else than "nocturnes," quite after the manner of Chopin, only less elaborate in treatment and less extended. Among the best types of this class are to be mentioned the first, the two folk-songs in the program following, and the duetto. In all these the connected legato of the melody is of the first importance; and, second, the proper sinking and swelling of the melody in the true manner of impassioned singing. The accompaniment follows closely and shares in the fluctuations of intensity and mood.

Another type of these pieces is illustrated by the eighth, in B-flat minor. This piece, which has the speed and restless movement of a scherzo, has also the true Mendelssohnian flavor of sweet melancholy. It goes at great speed, and often the melody is suggested by an accent rather than fully expressed. Such cases are found in measures 3 and 4, and elsewhere. In these instances there is a fragment of melody in the middle voice.

Somewhat between the cantabile type and the scherzo is to be mentioned the "Table Song," No. 28, in G. This is like a part-song of light and pleasant yet somewhat sentimental character, suitable to be sung at table.

As a composer for voice, Mendelssohn attained a very high rank, producing melodies of great sweetness (yet often also of inherent coldness) and very singable. One of the most beautiful examples of this kind is found in the "O for the Wings of a Dove," first sung as soprano solo and then later for chorus, in his setting of a psalm. Another well-known example for alto is the "O Rest in the Lord." The latter melody derives additional beauty from the contrast it makes with the rather dramatic place in the oratorio where it occurs. Further illustrations of Mendelssohn's powers in this direction may be taken from the list above, which there is not time at present to discuss more fully.

The part-songs of Mendelssohn for mixed voices deserve to be more frequently sung. They are extremely beautiful and delightfully written for the voices. While of moderate difficulty, they belong among the very best of part-songs for unaccompanied mixed voices. The omission of the accompaniment is of very great importance, as these pieces are strictly written in such a manner that the voices have the complete ideas, both melody and harmony, and when given independent of accompaniment it is possible to obtain a purer intonation and better sympathy.

The present program permits a somewhat greater latitude of arrangement of parts than those of the preceding chapters. The works do not contrast with each other exactly as was sought in previous programs, but rather form phases of lyric melody, to be sung in such order and combination as best suits the performers, taking care however, that an agreeable succession of keys is generally observed.

PROGRAM.

Schubert: Waltzes. Minuet, opus 79. March, from four-hand collection. "Fair Rosamunde and Variations." Songs: "Hedge Roses." "Wanderer." "Hark! Hark! the Lark." "Gretchen." "Fruehlingsglaube." Mendelssohn: Songs Without Words. The first. "Hunting Song," No. 3. "Folk-song," No. 4. "Gondellied," No. 6. B-flat minor, No. 8. "Table Song," No. 28. Duetto, No. 18. Overture to "Midsummer Night's Dream"; four hands. "O rest in the Lord." "If with all your hearts." "It is enough." Scene from "Elijah," "Lord God of Abraham," etc. "Hunting Song," ) part-songs "Farewell to the Forest,"; )



CHAPTER VII.

ROBERT SCHUMANN.

ROBERT SCHUMANN.

Born January 8, 1810, at Zwickau in Saxony. Died July 29, 1856, at Endenich, near Bonn.

Schumann was the son of a bookseller and a confirmed music lover. The boy showed marked talent for music, playing to some extent upon the more usual instruments, and even getting together and conducting a small orchestra of the school-boys. For this orchestra he very early composed pieces. His father died when the boy was sixteen and had nearly completed his gymnasium course, and in 1828 Schumann entered at the University of Leipsic as a student of law. After a time he left Leipsic in favor of Heidelberg, where some very celebrated lectures were at that time being given; but at Heidelberg he practically wasted his time, so far as the law studies were concerned, and devoted himself entirely to music. As early as 1829 he made a short vacation journey into Italy, and at Milan heard the famous violin virtuoso Paganini, and then became wholly influenced for music. Schumann's mother was extremely averse to his fitting himself for the musical profession, and it was only with great difficulty that she was brought to consent. Accordingly, his serious musical studies began in 1830, when he came back again to Leipsic and became a music student with Frederick Wieck and Heinrich Dorn. It was Wieck's daughter Clara who afterward became Mme. Schumann.



Schumann had a great determination to become a piano virtuoso, not so much for the repetition of effects already standard as for the invention of new ones. In this direction he devoted himself to practice with such assiduity that he very soon reached a point where his fingers could not keep up with his imagination. In the effort to impart a greater individuality and strength to the fourth finger of the right hand, he made some experiments which resulted in disabling his finger for a while, and he never afterward regained the use of it to a complete degree. Thus his career as virtuoso was cut short, but the studies he made and the playing he was afterward able to do resulted in very singular and productive discoveries of musical effects possible to the piano, so that it is not too much to say that the piano playing of the present time is more indebted to Schumann than perhaps to any other master in the history of the instrument.

He began his creative career by the arrangement of a collection of Paganini's studies, in which he sought to reproduce upon the pianoforte some of the effects of the famous Paganini caprices for the violin. He made two collections of these, about four years apart, and prefaced the first book with many observations in regard to the methods of practice and innovations of technic. Almost simultaneously with this he began seriously as a composer upon his own account, and, quite characteristically, as a composer of short pieces. The Papillons, opus 2, or "Scenes at a Ball," consist of short pieces of from two to six lines in length, and among them are many of great beauty. Another of these early works is the so-called "Dances of the Davidsbuendler against the Philistines." These consist of eighteen short pieces without individual titles. Already, by the time when the composition of this work was undertaken in 1835, Schumann had commenced to write as a musical literary man under two pseudonyms—Florestan and Eusebius, the one representing the sentimental and tender side, and the other the impassioned and vigorously moved. The different numbers in the "Davidsbuendler Dances" are signed with one or the other of these initials, and sometimes with both. The name "Davidsbuendler Dances" was in allusion to the term Philistine, which, in the German university towns, signified the old fogies, the conservative element, who take things as they find them and want nothing changed. Schumann belonged to the new party, who wanted about everything changed.

Two or three years later a second work of very similar import, called the "Carnaval," was produced, consisting of thirty-one short pieces, each bearing a characteristic title. This work is of a very extraordinary character. The moods of the pieces are extremely individual and marked, and the range of pianoforte expression covered by them is as great as can be found in the compositions of any master for the instrument. Another characteristic set of pieces at this time was the "Fantasy Pieces," opus 12, each of which had its own title; also the "Kreisleriana," a series of queer sayings after the manner of one Kreisler, an eccentric old musician in a novel popular at that time. There are also what he called "Novelettes," a series of eight somewhat elaborate pianoforte pieces.

In 1834 Schumann, in connection with two other young men, founded the "Neue Zeitschrift fuer Musik" as an organ of musical progress. He remained editor of this for ten years, writing there a great variety of articles, and in 1844 resigned the editor's chair to Brendel and removed to Duesseldorf. It was from Duesseldorf that he wrote his famous article about the newly-risen star of Johannes Brahms.

In 1840 he succeeded in overcoming Wieck's objections to a marriage with the young Clara, who was then a very distinguished piano virtuoso, and in the same year he received a doctorate from the University of Jena. In 1839 and 1840 he composed a very large number of songs—viz., one hundred in all. In 1841 his first symphony was played at the Gewandhaus in Leipsic, and in 1843, upon the founding of the Leipsic Conservatory by Mendelssohn, Schumann was appointed teacher of playing from score. As he was practically no teacher at all, and found the duties irksome, he soon resigned this position and lived for a while at Dresden, and made a number of concert tours to various foreign countries with his wife, his own works forming generally a part of the program. It is told of one of these journeys that at some court or other where they were graciously received, the amiable prince, after complimenting the brilliant young pianist upon the solidity of her work, continued, "And is your husband also musical?" At that time Mr. Schumann was the husband of Clara Wieck, rather than Clara Wieck the wife of Robert Schumann.

Early in 1851 Schumann's mind began to show signs of giving way, and in 1853 he was removed to a retreat for the insane, where he died in 1856.

Schumann's compositions comprise four rather large volumes of piano works, four symphonies for grand orchestra, and a number of chamber works of different kinds, of which the quintet for piano and strings is perhaps the most successful; about 100 songs, one opera, several cantatas, a series of music pieces for "Faust," to be played in connection with the drama, etc.

In his lifetime his piano music had very slight recognition from any quarter, its novelties both in the subject-matter of the music and in the manner of treating the piano making it practically impossible for piano players at that day, and it was only about the time of Schumann's death that his piano music began to attract attention upon a considerable scale. Schumann's Symphony in B-flat had a great success under Mendelssohn's direction in Leipsic in 1841, but it was played in very few other places for a number of years, although it was an extremely bright and interesting production. When William Mason was in Leipsic in 1850 he sent home a score and parts to the orchestra in Boston. They held two rehearsals of this symphony and then laid it upon the shelf in the belief that the composer must have been crazy, and it was only five or six years later that they mustered up nerve to produce the work and were astonished to find that it pleased the hearers.

The universal currency of Schumann's piano music can not be said to have made much progress until the appearance of Rubinstein. In the early days of Schumann's productivity he composed his enormously difficult and beautiful "Fantasie," opus 17, and dedicated it to Liszt. Accordingly, not to be outdone in politeness, Liszt introduced some of Schumann's pieces in his programs once or twice, but the effect of them upon the audience was so much less than that of his own music or of the Chopin pieces which at that time he was very fond of playing, that he discontinued further efforts to aid Schumann's cause, although he wrote him very polite and encouraging letters. The first real Schumann player was Rubinstein, who had the qualities of tone and of emotionality which Schumann's music imperatively required; and since Rubinstein, Schumann's music has entered more and more into the world-current of piano music, until at the present time it occupies a position inferior to none other.

Of a composer so varied in his capacities, so original, so influential upon the later course of development in his art, and so interesting in every way, it is not possible from a single program—no matter how carefully selected the works may be—to gain a complete idea. The most that can be done is to give a glimpse of the man, to bring out a few of his moods, and to observe the more salient features of his style. The following list of selections has been influenced by the same idea as that underlying all the previous programs of this series—namely: A preference for selections of moderate difficulty, both for performer and hearer; and a representation of what might be called the more elementary characteristics of his art.

PROGRAM.

Kinderscenen. Opus 15. "From Strange Lands and People." "A Curious Story." "Playing Tag." "Happy Enough." "Traumerei." Album for the Young. Opus 68. "The Jolly Farmer." "A Little Romance." Papillons. Opus 2. Polonaise in D major. Songs. "The Hat of Green." "The Wanderer's Song." Forest Scenes. Opus 82. "Entrance to the Forest." "The Wayside Inn." "Prophetic Bird." "Farewell to the Forest." Songs. "Moonlight." "He, the Noblest." Night-piece in F. Opus 23. No. 4. Novelette in F. Opus 21. No. 1. Songs. "Thou Ring Upon My Finger." "The Spring Night." Fantasy Pieces. Opus 12. "In the Evening." "Soaring." "Why?" "Whims." "End of the Song."

The foregoing selections, as will be noticed, are all for piano and voice; I have thought it better to confine them to these easily accessible sources than to attempt to cover more ground. In a later program more difficult piano selections will be given. All the instrumental selections in this list are in the volume of "Selections from the Works of Robert Schumann," edited by the present writer and published by the publishers of "Music." All the songs are in the collection of Schumann songs published by Boosey and Company.

I have written so many times upon the works and characteristics of Schumann that it would, perhaps, suffice to refer the student to a few of those places, such as "A Popular History of Music," pages 464 to 477. Also in the first volume of "How to Understand Music" there is something to the point, and at various other places in the course of the work, as will be found by looking up the references to Schumann's music given in the index. At the beginning of the collection of Schumann pieces, above mentioned, is an essay upon Schumann and his works which will be found suggestive. One of the best single articles I have seen is Mr. W. H. Hadow's essay upon "Schumann and the Romantic Movement in Germany," which occupies pages 149 to 231 in the first volume of his "Studies in Modern Music." In spite of these I shall add a few observations in the present pages, since it is a peculiarity of the works of any great writer that they grow upon the appreciation, and while their shortcomings and limitations of whatever kind become more apparent as the student grows in years and clearness of thought, the beauties and originalities also press more and more upon our notice, and perhaps, in the case of creative artists of the first order, come out into even greater luxuriance than we at first realized. Such, at least, I find in my own case since my first introduction to the works of Schumann, which practically began with my acquaintance with Dr. Mason at South Bend, Indiana, in the summer of 1870. Before that I had heard but very few of the Schumann works, and these had not been well done and so had failed of making an impression. I was much surprised when Dr. Mason told me that one could not properly understand Beethoven without knowing Schumann. And it was like opening a new world when I began with the Novelette in E, the Fantasy Pieces, opus 12, and the Romance in F-sharp, opus 28.

The most distinguishing quality of the Schumann music, and the one which perhaps demarcates it from other music most strikingly, is its hearty quality, its spontaneity, its headlong driving speed. Another quality almost or quite equally notable is its conciseness. Schumann is above all the poet of the short, the clear, the well-defined. In parallel line with this is his habit of employing fanciful designations for his short pieces, generally poetical titles suggesting a mood or a scene. Examples of this latter peculiarity occur in the present program. The titles were perhaps always put on after the piece had been composed. It is not known with certainty whether Schumann had the idea of the title in his mind in composing the piece. In most cases it serves merely as a suggestion to the player of a proper standpoint for conceiving the work.

Another peculiarity of Schumann's writing is the close unity of each little piece or movement. He develops his period or his two periods out of a single motive or a motive and a counter-theme, and the leading idea is repeated several times. When the first idea gives place to a second idea, this proves to be something totally unlike the idea which it follows, making with it a strong contrast. In the clearness of his moods and their contrast is one source of the vigor of impression which the Schumann music has made and is making upon the musical world.

The first number in the present program contains five pieces from the set called "Scenes from Childhood," written in 1837, when the composer was in the very thick of his somewhat diversified course of true love and had advanced seven years along the pathway of a composer.

Following the "Traeumerei" are two popular selections from the "Album for the Young," written some ten years later—the "Jolly Farmer" and the "Little Romance." This program number closes with the Polonaise in D, from the "Papillons," written in 1832. It is a very brilliant and original piece, full of delightful pianoforte effect.

In the second series of instrumental numbers are included four of the beautiful cycle, "Forest Scenes." Each of these is like a little sonnet—brief, picturesque, and individual. In the first we have the vague and shadowy effect of the entrance into the forest, the shimmering leaves, the sunlight and shade, and whatever fanciful explanation one likes of the imaginative tone-sonnet of the author. In the "Wayside Inn" the thematic style of Schumann is well illustrated, and also the variety of effect possible to be obtained from a very small amount of musical material. The reference to the title is not very apparent, since the speed of the piece and its quick and forcible character deprive it of the reposeful "Stimmung" one would anticipate from the title assigned. I do not know the true explanation of the "Prophetic Bird." It is a most lovely little bit, and is now so well known in the concert-room as not to need further discussion.

The "Farewell to the Forest" is one of the most delightful songs without words in the whole Schumann category. Its melody is musical and new, and the changing rhythms, the occasional coming out of a middle voice, and the general effect of the whole are alike interesting and absorbing.

In the next instrumental number we come upon another mood of Schumann, or rather upon two of them. The "Night-piece" is of a lyric quality enjoyable by every one. Nearly all young players object to the speed which Schumann has marked, and many play it much more slowly; this, however, is not warranted, since in the nature of the case Schumann must have known what he intended, and when we have made an allowance for the undue slowness of his metronome at given tempi, we are still not warranted in making this slower than eighty for quarters. To take it still more slowly is to change the character of all the latter part of the piece. If well played it is sufficiently reposeful in the form in which we now have it. In the second part there is some delightful imitative work between the motive in the treble and its answer in the tenor.

With the Novelette in F, opus 21, we come into the domain of what we might call the higher Schumann, for in these works and in those which follow upon this list greater demands are made upon the player, and the music itself is deeper, stronger, more original, and therein more satisfactory. The novelette consists of two main parts. First comes a march-like movement, in which certain very strong chords with occasional triplet octaves in the bass impart a singularly driving and forceful character to the music. After the double bar at the beginning of the fifth measure a new motive appears, which sets in operation a series of sequences, and this period ends in D-flat.

The next period begins in the same manner, but the modulation is differently conducted, and the period now ends in the key of A. Now comes in what he calls the trio, a lovely lyric melody in the key of F. This is developed to quite a length, after which the main theme of the novelette returns, and the period ends in the key of F. Now ensues a curious sort of intermezzo, in the key of D-flat, where one voice starts out with a little melodic subject and another takes it up and imitates it, and this in turn is followed by another, quite in the manner of fugue, only that here the motive itself is very short and the imitations follow so fast, one after another, that only the beginning of each is to be made out. For the rest, it is a question of mystery. When he has carried this as far as he cares, the first subject returns; and after this again the trio, but now in the key of A major. At the end of this, again the original subject, and so finally the end. The most notable features of this novelette are its vigor, the different forms in which the subjects return, and the persistence of the two main ideas—the march and the lyric trio—which form the substance of it. The mystic and fugue-like interlude is merely an interlude. It perhaps represents one of those moments when the mind is too full for clear utterance—a condition more celebrated in fiction than desirable in reality.

The Fantasy Pieces, opus 12, are among the most happy of the smaller works of this composer. Their general character is sufficiently indicated by their titles. "In the Evening" represents one of those mystic moods suitable to twilight. "Soaring" has also been translated "Excelsior," which perhaps more truly represents its spirit. "Why?" is a question, just like the word; nevertheless this has become the greatest favorite of all the smaller Schumann pieces. "Whims" also is well named, since in this quickly moving little piece one mood follows another irrepressibly; among them are some which are highly poetic. Last of all, "The End of the Song"—a very vigorous and strongly marked movement which appeals to every one.

The Schumann songs are so remarkable as to demand separate treatment. Those upon the present list are so placed because they represent in a general way the more noticeable moods of Schumann in this form of art. They can be sung high or low, as the singer's voice requires, but they are more satisfactory if sung by a soprano voice, I think.

The first upon the list is the merry and arch little "Hat of Green," which with folk-tone sweetness and simplicity brings out a situation as old as the world and as new as the morning. The musical treatment is very clever and interesting.

The "Wanderer's Song" is characteristically German, representing the song of the young student as he sets out upon his student career as traveler, for seeing strange lands; or the emigrant who leaves his land to find a better home, but never one so well loved as his own native country. It is full of heart and courage until the middle part, where the intermezzo in the key of E major tells of softer feelings—of longing and homesickness.

"Moonlight," again, represents the peculiarly mystic and dreamy side of the Schumann nature, and there are few songs in the whole world so sweet and so beautiful as this; but it needs a pure, clear, and very true soprano voice, controlled with musical feeling. Thus interpreted it is indeed a dream.

The next two songs upon the list are out of the famous cycle called "Woman's Love and Life"—the poems of no great depth, but the subjects of lasting and universal application and interest. "He, the Noblest" gives a very spirited and sensitive musical setting to the woman's opinion of the loved one; words and music bring to expression one of the most ideal moments of woman's life. The next, "Thou Ring Upon My Finger," tells its own story, but here, again, the music is well worth while for its own sake. It is interesting as an instrumental piece without the aid of the voice. Few songs as musical have been written. The last upon the list, "Spring Night," while out of another cycle,—the so-called "Liederkreis,"—is nevertheless of quite similar excellence to the preceding.

All need to be sung with abandon, and above all with sentiment, poetry, and flexible rhythm, yet always with abounding musical life. To sing such songs well is to be an artist.



CHAPTER VIII.

CHOPIN.

FREDERIC FRANCOIS CHOPIN.

Born March 1, 1809, at Zelazowa-Wola, near Warsaw. Died October 17, 1849, in Paris.

Chopin was the son of a French father who had lived in Warsaw and was teacher in the gymnasium there; his mother was a Polish woman. Chopin's early talent for music was unmistakable, both his parents having been gifted in this direction. The child, therefore, was put at music very young and appeared as a wonder-child at an early age. His teachers were a Bohemian named Zwyny and Joseph Elsner. But the most of his work he must have accomplished by himself, since we find that before he was nineteen he had written his theme and variations upon "La Ci Darem la Mano," and all his works up to and including the Concerto in E minor, opus 11. It is believed that the so-called second concerto in F minor was also completed before this period. This mass of works included not alone the very remarkable variations upon Mozart's air, already mentioned, and the brilliant concertos, with certain rondos and mazurkas and other characteristic illustrations of the Chopin genius, but also the studies for pianoforte, opus 10, which in methods of treating the piano amount to a most astonishing advance over anything which had appeared before them. They are also as beautiful and original from a musical standpoint as they are remarkable from that of piano-forte technic.



Accordingly, when Chopin, in 1828, went upon a concert tour to Paris, Vienna, and Munich, he was received everywhere with astonishing enthusiasm, and was very much surprised to hear himself called one of the first virtuosi of the time, as, indeed, he must have been. At Paris his opus 2 was published (the variations just mentioned), and this was the composition which attracted Schumann's attention and concerning which he wrote such a glowing and enthusiastic account. In 1829 he came to Paris to reside, and immediately became an active member of a small but extremely brilliant art circle, among the members of which were to be found such celebrities as Liszt, Berlioz, Heine, Balzac, Ernst, and Meyerbeer.

Chopin's father having died, he assumed the care of his mother, and supported himself partly by concert playing and partly by teaching. As early as 1838 the symptoms of pulmonary weakness began to appear, and from that time to the end of his life he was more or less an invalid, always in delicate health and sometimes unfit for any exertion. From the brilliancy of his position in Paris, the death of Chopin was a great shock to the artistic world, and he was buried with most impressive ceremonies. His grave is not far from those of Bellini and Cherubini. He was a man of fine wit, aristocratic presence, distinguished manners, and a highly sensitive and poetic nature, all of which qualities reached expression in his music.

The best biography of Chopin is that by Fr. Niecks, in two volumes. The so-called "Chopin," by Liszt, is merely a rhapsody upon his departed friend, having very little biographical but a great deal of critical value, because no one knew better than Liszt how to estimate the innovations which Chopin had made in piano playing.

It will be noticed by the attentive reader that the art of modern piano playing, as we now have it, depends practically upon the works of Chopin, Schumann, and Liszt, with possibly a little advance help from Weber and Thalberg. The three artists first mentioned began to work in their several provinces at about the same time; Chopin and Liszt between 1826 and 1830, and Schumann from 1830 on. Liszt, however, did not produce works of distinguished originality until after the contest with Thalberg in Paris and after hearing Paganini, somewhere about 1834, so that, on the whole, if superior eminence were to be accorded either of these artists in point of priority of invention, we would perhaps give the credit to Chopin; and in point of precocity of genius, considering the astonishing innovations he made, I think Chopin is to be held even in advance of Mozart, Schubert, and Mendelssohn, all of whom created remarkably mature works in new styles at a very early age.

Chopin's works are almost entirely for the pianoforte, and he was the originator of several forms which have now become types; the salon waltz was practically created by him, although Weber's "Invitation to the Dance" opened the way, and the ballads, scherzi, and nocturnes of Chopin were new types, showing his genius in the most beautiful manner.

PROGRAM I. (Easy.)

Polonaise in A major, opus 40, No. 1. Polonaise in C-sharp minor, opus 26, No. 1. Preludes: Opus 28. No. 4, E minor. No. 6, B minor. No. 7, A major. No. 9, E major. Prelude in D-flat, opus 28, No. 15. Waltz in C-sharp minor, opus 64. Waltz in D-flat, opus 64, No. 1. Nocturne in E-flat, opus 9, No. 2. Waltz in A-flat, opus 42.

PROGRAM II. (More difficult.)

Polonaise in A major. Fantasia Impromptu in C-sharp minor, opus 66. Scherzo in B-flat minor, opus 31. Nocturne in E-flat major, opus 9, No. 2. Nocturne in G major, opus 37, No. 2. Ballad in A-flat, opus 47.

PROGRAM III. (Still more difficult.)

Etudes: Opus 10, No. 1, C major. No. 2, A minor. No. 3, E major. No. 4, C-sharp minor. No. 5, G-flat (black key). Ballad in A-flat, opus 47. Romanza from First Concerto, in E minor. (Reinecke's arrangement or with second piano.) Impromptu in A-flat, opus 29. Nocturne in D-flat, opus 27, No. 2. Polonaise in A-flat, opus 53.

In order to fully understand the individuality and genius of Frederic Francois Chopin (1809-1849) it would be necessary to study his work from three standpoints. First, naturally, for what it is in and of itself—the moods, the qualities of style, the peculiar individuality of his musical thought; second, with reference to the modifications of pianoforte style inaugurated by this gifted genius—modifications which, while having their source in certain improvements of the mechanism of the pianoforte made immediately before Chopin began to write, would not have come so soon but for his genius and insight; and, third, to study the relation of this master in his style of musical ideas and working out, his fancy, his imagination, his representation of many sides of human nature, to the music of the other composers of the romantic school, and especially to that of Mendelssohn and Schumann, whose compositions were produced contemporaneously with those of Chopin. To cover all this ground is naturally impossible in one, two, or even in several, chapters, wherefore I shall confine myself in the present program to illustrating a few of the characteristic individualities of Chopin and the essential features of his style. There are difficulties in doing this adequately, arising from the fact that as piano virtuoso, Chopin, when fully expressing himself, did so without regard for the convenience of imperfectly-trained hands upon the pianoforte. Hence the works of his which represent his genius at its best are mostly too difficult for any but very accomplished players.

In recognition of this difficulty I have made three programs, each more difficult than the preceding, from which the student may make his choice, since the qualities are mainly the same in all, excepting that his complete treatment of the pianoforte is more perfectly illustrated in the more difficult examples of his style. These, I may add, are no longer the utmost limit of pianoforte difficulty, as they were at the time when written; later writers have passed considerably beyond even the most difficult works of Chopin. But for pianists in general some of the Chopin works still remain along the farthest borders of their art.

Among the most striking peculiarities of Chopin's style are, perhaps: first, melodiousness, combined with a certain melancholy, almost morbid, mood; second, pleasing running work, especially for the right hand, generally overlying an entirely simple bass, or a bass essentially simple upon the harmonic side but broken or modified so as to conceal this fact from the superficial observer. All his later life Chopin was an invalid or semi-invalid, and much of his music illustrates a certain feverishness and morbidness of temperament.

The originality of Chopin shows best, perhaps, in his polonaises, ballads, preludes, and nocturnes; but the two sonatas, while presenting marked differences from those of the older writers, are, nevertheless, tone-poems of strong originality. Practically, he may be said to have invented the polonaise, the nocturne, and the ballad. The preludes are short pieces of marked originality and expression, which have always seemed to me like chips struck off in working at something else. Very likely they may have been beginnings of larger works which were never completed. Possibly they may have never been intended to reach any larger dimensions than those in which we find them. First, his polonaises.

The polonaise, as perfected by Chopin, is a composition in 3/4 measure, having really six beats to the measure, arranged in three twos; the second of these six beats is divided, and there is an extra accent upon the fifth.

Moreover, this rhythm must be kept quite strictly, like a march, for a march the polonaise is in its general characteristics, rather than a dance properly so called. The fanciful description of the polonaise given by Liszt in his memoir of Chopin may be taken as in the main correct. He says:

"While listening to some of the polonaises of Chopin we can almost catch the firm, nay the more than firm, the heavy, resolute tread of men bravely facing all the bitter injustice which the most cruel and relentless destiny can offer with the manly pride of unblenching courage.

"The progress of the music suggests to our imagination such magnificent groups as were designed by Paul Veronese, robed in the rich costume of days long past; we see passing at intervals before us brocades of gold, velvets, damasked satins, silvery, soft, and flexible sables, hanging sleeves gracefully thrown back upon the shoulders, embossed sabers, boots yellow as gold or red with trampled blood, sashes with long and undulating fringes, close chemisettes, rustling trains, stomachers embroidered with pearls, head-dresses glittering with rubies or leafy with emeralds, light slippers rich in amber, gloves perfumed with the luxurious attar of the harems."

The delicacy of Chopin's playing is traditional, but Liszt is authority for the statement that Chopin was fond of hearing his larger and more heroic works played with a power of which he himself was incapable. It is related by some one that upon one occasion a very talented young pianist called upon Chopin, and, being invited to play, did so, the great polonaise in A-flat being the matter. Excited by the work and by the presence of the author, and full of the heroic spirit of the music, he broke several hammers—an occurrence quite common in heavy playing in those days. Naturally, the young man was extremely mortified at this, and endeavored to apologize over and over again. But the composer cut him short. "Say not a word," said he; "if I had your strength I would break every hammer in the piano when I played that piece." This may be one of those "ben trovato" anecdotes which, if not true, ought to be.

Both the polonaises upon the first program illustrate the breadth, impassioned force, and vigor of Chopin's idea to a marked degree, as well, perhaps, as anything he ever composed. The first, commonly known as the "Military Polonaise," is one of those pompous pieces which inevitably suggest some kind of great ceremonial. The movement begins in stately march-like rhythmic swing, and goes on with interruptions of brilliant effect, as if where the cannon and drums add their noisy emphasis. The pomp resumes its march, but presently gives place to a middle part—a trio. This, again, is in the key of D major, with a great swinging melody like a trumpet, the military rhythm going on uninterruptedly below. At length the original movement is resumed, and presently comes the end. In all, it is a matter of pomp, brilliant ceremony, stately march, like some national festival.

The second polonaise is of a wholly different character. The expression is even more forcible than that of the first, but the character is not the same. It is now as if one remembered some of the heroes of Poland. With what fervor enters the leading subject (first four measures)! It is complete in itself. Then comes a softer and more capricious melody, but little more heroic than a nocturne. The second principal idea (measure 25) is mystic, as if some kind of ceremonial were being conducted. The rhythm goes on, but softly and with interruptions. At length the principal idea again. Now comes the middle piece, in the key of D-flat—a beautiful melody, one of the finest of Chopin's, supported upon very delicate and sensitively changing harmonies, full of chromatic and enharmonic modulation. After this a second idea, in which two voices carry on the interest; the upper a soprano, the lower a baritone or tenor, and they have a sort of dialogue (measure 66). Then the soft melody again. In the first editions of this work the da capo was not marked, and for about forty years critics gave themselves headaches in trying to explain why Chopin invented a new form of this anomalous construction,—a first part in the key of C-sharp minor; a second part in the key of D-flat major. "Where," they asked, "was the unity?" And by way of emphasis they spelled the word Unity with a capital initial. At last, however, some Solomon among editors affixed the missing letters "D. C.," and behold! we had our Unity all right. It was simply a case of a middle piece in the major key of the same tonic, with the notation changed enharmonically for the sake of simplicity, the key of D-flat being, for the majority of players, easier to read than that of C-sharp major.

The preludes which follow represent individual moods. The first, in E minor, consists of a slow melody, almost stationary, while against the long tones a chord accompaniment softly pulsates, the harmonies shifting chromatically.

The second, No. 6, in B minor, has a lovely melodic idea in the bass, while the right hand carries a soft harmony and a slow pulsation in the upper voice. The impression of the whole is most mysterious, melancholy, and tender.

No. 7, in A major, is one of the preludes which seems as if it might have been a beginning for a longer composition, perhaps a slow waltz.

No. 9, in E major, a very grave, serious, organ-like movement, in which massive, tremendous chord-successions march onward to a climax through unheard-of modulations. This piece, by the way, has been arranged for organ very effectively by A. W. Gottschalg. In playing it the slow movement, the sustained and deep melody, and the steady rhythm all require careful attention.

The prelude in D-flat represents a larger flight of the Chopin fancy. It begins with a lovely melody, like a nocturne. This exquisite melody gives place to a somewhat broken part in the key of C-sharp minor, in which the remarkable thing is the incessant repetition of the note G-sharp. This continues in eighth-note motion throughout all the measures of this part of the work. It can only be made tolerable by careful observance of the "sotto voce" at beginning and gradually increasing in power up to the fortissimo in the fortieth measure. Again it subsides into pianissimo, and again the crescendo. Finally the original melody in D-flat is resumed—and with what grateful sweetness!—and the piece is carried through to the close.

The waltzes of Chopin are not to be taken too seriously. They are salon music, but of a particularly pleasing character. One of the most charming, although a small one, is that in C-sharp minor, which is built upon three leading motives. First the motive of two measures which opens the work; then the little passage of eighth notes which answers it; and finally the running work beginning in measure 33. Farther along there is a melody in D-flat, which stands in place of a trio. It is a sentimental and lovely melody. The effect of the whole is light, capricious, and musical.

Following this is the little waltz in D-flat, opus 64, so often heard, and so many times built over in all sorts of double notes, thirds, sixths, etc. It illustrates the knack which Chopin had of developing a pleasing whole out of very slight materials. Observe the extreme simplicity of the bass.

The name nocturne was invented by John Field, who wrote twelve pieces with this title (the remaining ones of the twenty usually printed were named by the publishers) which are, in effect, sonnets; little lyric pieces, of greater or less depth, having the general type of a song without words, but preferably of a melancholy or tender character, and the form of a melody with accompaniment. Chopin took up this form and greatly ennobled it. His nocturnes are vastly more beautiful and original than those of Field; they have greater variety, deeper tenderness, and in every way are more distinguished and characteristic. The little nocturne in E-flat, opus 9, is one which is now very generally played upon every sort of instrument capable of singing a soprano melody.

The waltz which concludes the first program is of a more brilliant character than the two little ones earlier upon the list. It begins, after the introduction, with a double rhythm, the right hand playing a melody in double measure, while the left hand goes on in triple rhythm. It should be played with brilliancy, the left hand quite crisp and clear, but light; the right hand rather brilliantly. The syncopation gives place to agreeable running work for the right hand, and this again to another subject in double notes, a very earnest melody. A little later there is another short melody, and the double-note subject returns, and so all the material over again.

SECOND AND THIRD PROGRAMS.

The Fantasia Impromptu in C-sharp minor belongs to that class of Chopin's works mentioned in the beginning of this chapter, in which pleasing effects are made by fluent running work, containing more or less changing notes and other forms of dissonance—running work so fast that the ear does not follow each note, but skims along the melodic thread, as it were, the general impression of an "effect" being the form of conscious delight. This kind of effect in music, which depends in part upon the persistence of the pianoforte tone after the keys are released, was original with Chopin; or, if we can not say that he fully originated, he certainly brought it to greater perfection than any of his predecessors ever did. Moreover, the runs of Chopin are more complicated and daring, yet at the same time better adapted to rapid performance than any of those by the older writers for pianoforte. In the present instance, moreover, there is a further unsettling element in the fact that against the six tones of the right hand groups, the left hand plays groups of four tones. This, which was never carried out upon so extensive a scale before, is now perfectly easy to perform, although in Chopin's time it was considered a difficulty. It serves to impart an elusiveness to the effect of the music, entirely in keeping with the name.

The place of "middle piece" in this Fantasia Impromptu is filled by a slow melody which in effect is a nocturne—quite in the manner of the middle piece in the Impromptu in A-flat. The principal ideas in this are also somewhat varied in their repetitions, and light and delicate arabesques occur, which add to the charm. The slow part affords a repose, after which the principal subject returns and the whole comes to a brilliant ending by means of a coda. The entire piece is extremely characteristic of Chopin's genius.

The Scherzo in B-flat minor is more analogous to a ballad than to any one of the varieties of piece known under this title in the classic works of Beethoven. It consists substantially of about four primordial elements. First there is the principal subject, the characteristic expression of which is due to the unexpected answer of the suggestive query of the low notes by strongly accented chords. Still in emphatic mood the second idea comes in (measure 48) with running work.

Then follows a delightful melodic idea (measure 64), which is repeated in different keys no less than five times, the entire period extending to forty-nine measures. The accompaniment of this charming melody is thoroughly Chopinesque, consisting of arpeggio figures generally covering the compass of a tenth. In spirit this passage is much the same as that of the second idea in the Polonaise in C-sharp minor. After the second idea there is a coda concluding this part of the work. It is then repeated with a few very slight modifications. Then follows the middle piece, a melody in the key of A, a novel relation of keys which no doubt troubled the contemporaries of the composer more than it need us, since the key of the piece is properly D-flat, the B-flat minor predominating only at the beginning, and the first part, as well as the last, closing in D-flat major. From this to the key of A, counting by the keyboard, is a major third, and everybody knows that the major third above or below is an agreeable relation of keys; moreover, we have here the music to tell us. This middle part is mystic and truly charming. Several other ideas meet us presently, one of which, with triplets in the alto, is rather troublesome to play and still more troublesome when it occurs again near the end of the piece. Also some very pretty running work, charmingly supported upon a bass containing considerable melody of its own. This running work is afterward given considerable development, as also is the subordinate idea already referred to characterized by the triplets in the alto, and then the first part of the piece is repeated, and so at length the end.

The name "scherzo" in this connection is to be taken as signifying a play of fancy, rather than an especially playful mood in the sense of mirthfulness; in fact, it is not easy to find a rational explanation of the grounds upon which Chopin named his pieces, especially as between the ballad and the scherzo. Probably, however, he called those ballads which begin with a lyric melody and depend for their interest mainly upon the development of lyric melodies, reaching at times a tragic elevation; but even with this explanation the line between the nocturnes and ballads will be very difficult to draw, since the Nocturne in G major, of which we shall speak presently, lacks only a more brilliant treatment in the middle part to raise it to the grade of a ballad. On the whole, we may as well confess that all these names are more or less fanciful and perhaps applied without any very deep reason, but simply because it was necessary to call the pieces by some title in particular.

The Nocturne in G major is one of the most pleasing of all the compositions of this kind in the works of Chopin. It is also rather difficult, since the principal subject runs in thirds and sixths more or less chromatic and in the course of the treatment these figures are carried into a large number of keys, in all of which they have to retain a singing quality of tone in the soprano and a very clean and legato style of performance; but when adequately done the effect is very charming indeed. The middle part again consists of a very beautiful digression, something like a cradle song, or a barcarolle,—a gentle, peaceful, rocking motion,—and then again the principal subject returns. It will be seen that in spite of the quite considerable length to which this nocturne is developed, it never rises to the impassioned diversification which Chopin seems to have considered as belonging to the ballad. For all his ballads, no matter how quiet their opening subject, become more or less dramatic before they are completed.

The Ballad in A-flat is one of the most frequently played compositions of Chopin. It opens with a very pleasing and melodious subject, which, by the aid of various subordinate ideas, is carried out to the extent of fifty-two measures. At this point a new motion begins and a very pleasing second subject, of a more playful character, perhaps, than the first. Later on, in measure 115, some very pretty running work comes in; then again, still farther on, where the signature changes to four sharps, the second subject appears in the treble, somewhat changed, against some very pretty running work in the bass; and then begins a charming and elaborate building up to the climax, when the first subject is brought back in fortissimo form. For the player and for the hearer this piece, when well treated, is one of the most pleasing piano solos possible to mention. I do not know, however, that it is necessary to turn it wrong side out in the effort to find some hidden or recondite meaning. It is pleasing and well made rather than deeply impassioned, and it is a mistake to overdo the contrasts in it.

The studies of Chopin form a literature by themselves. In all, there are twenty-seven published. The first book, opus 10, containing twelve studies, was composed when Chopin was a boy of sixteen or seventeen, and I do not think the history of music shows any similar case of precocity. These studies were vastly more difficult than anything existing at that time excepting the fugues of Bach, and they spring out at once, fully armed as it were, with a well-developed style in melody, in harmonic handling, and especially in the application of the hands to the piano; thus they turned over an entirely new leaf; and what is more significant, and to the credit of the young genius, is that he seems to have divined, by a sort of intuition, the strategic points of modern piano playing as it was to be, so that in spite of these works having now been before the musical world more than fifty years and their having entered into conservatory and boarding-school curricula to an almost universal extent, the pianist who can play them all in the manner in which Chopin intended is already an artist. They belong to the most poetic and sagaciously conceived compositions for the instrument. The five here selected are not particularly better than the five next following, or the last numbers of this same opus, and perhaps no better than those in the second set, the opus 25. The first study, in C major, has for its object to accustom the hand to wide extensions, the arpeggio figure nearly always covering a tenth and sometimes an eleventh. This extension should be accomplished by the fingers themselves as far as possible, and then by slightly turning the wrist. To play this study well betokens first-class execution. The second study, in A minor, has a chromatic scale for soprano with staccato chords below, and its technical object is to impart greater flexibility and usefulness to the fourth and fifth fingers of the right hand. The third, also, is a cantabile in a beautiful singing melody, with some very interesting contrasts in the middle part. Here, again, Chopin addresses himself to the weak fingers of the right hand, since these are the ones which will experience the greatest difficulty in securing a proper effect in this study. No. 4 is a very impassioned presto in C-sharp minor, in which strong single notes and octaves occur, along with an insistent and very rapid sixteenth-note motion. The effect of the whole is very strong and striking, and esthetically considered it belongs to the dramatically conceived moods of Chopin. No. 5, in G-flat major, is commonly known as the "black-key study," and its object is to accustom the hands to the black keys and to very rapid changes from one part of the keyboard to another. It is a charming piece, producing the effect of a delightful scherzo.

It is interesting to note in this connection that all of these studies and many others belonging to this set have, in recent times, been rewritten for the left hand. This has been done in various ways. Mr. Phillippe, of Paris, has simply transferred the right-hand part to the left, and left the right hand with nothing or with but little to do. Mr. Leopold Godowsky, the distinguished Russian pianist, has taken a different course. The first study he has placed with the arpeggio figure in both hands simultaneously, and a heavy melody of chords is also added. The second study gives the chromatic runs to the weak fingers of the left hand. The black-key study also is written for the left hand, while an entirely new part has been composed for the right. One of the most curious of all these arrangements of Chopin's material is that of the late eminent organist, August Haupt, of Berlin, who arranged this fourth study in C-sharp minor for the organ for Mr. Clarence Eddy, by whom it is often played in concerts with an effect extremely remarkable, especially when the pedals have the sixteenth-note motion.

It should not be forgotten that all these five studies, as well as the others in the whole collection, are tone-poems no less than exercises for the pianoforte, and they can not be said to have been played until this poetic sense is derived from them.

The romanza from the Concerto in E minor is a very beautiful nocturne-like movement, and if given with an accompaniment of second piano, or, better still, a very soft accompaniment of organ, it produces the most delightful effect.

The Impromptu in A-flat, opus 29, might just as well have been called a study, since the essential part of it is a rapid movement in eighth notes having for its object, in part at least, the freer and more delicate treatment of the left hand in accompaniments. It will require a great deal of practice to play well, but when so played it produces a very pleasing pianoforte effect. It belongs to the same class of Chopin's works as the Fantasia Impromptu in C-sharp minor, already mentioned. The middle part of this impromptu, as in the case of the other, is essentially a nocturne-like movement.

The Nocturne in D-flat, opus 27, No. 2, is very often played. It is a very beautiful composition, and while representing a number of serious technical difficulties, esthetically considered, it is perhaps sufficiently plain to any student capable of mastering it. In all these cases it is to be observed that Chopin takes the implication of the term "nocturne" somewhat freely, often developing the idea with considerable force and dramatic spirit.

One of the most celebrated of all the compositions of Chopin is the famous Polonaise in A-flat major, which seems in the fullest manner to illustrate the description of the polonaise already quoted above, from Liszt's Chopin. This remarkable work opens with a rather striking introduction, the principal subject entering in the seventeenth measure, very bold and strong. In the forty-ninth measure an extremely forcible and dramatic idea begins which presently, in the fifty-seventh measure, gives place to a more quiet melody. The most remarkable part of this piece, and the one which has had much to do with its use by virtuoso pianists, is the middle part in E major. Here, after a series of heavy chords, a sixteenth-note motion enters in octaves for the left hand, and for the right hand a melody, which is at first soft and afterward built up. This octave middle figure continues without interruption for sixteen measures, and then, after the chords are repeated, is continued again for the same length of time. When this is properly done, the passage begins quite softly and works up by degrees until the very imposing climax at the end, and in the repetition the same thing takes place again. The difficulty consists in this insistent repetition of the same figure in the left hand, and a very clear note of Chopin's genius is seen when he changes this bass figure from E major to E-flat major. This change, although apparently not significant on paper, has the keyboard peculiarity of giving the left hand a rotary motion in the opposite direction from that necessitated in the E major, and in three measures of it the player unwinds himself, as it were, and is ready to begin again with the original figure. Still another pleasing Chopin peculiarity is noted at the close of this strong part, where there is a page or more of very delightful dreamy work, at first in G major, afterward in F minor, and so at length the original subject is resumed and the Polonaise brought to an end. A work of this magnitude admits of being considered in so many different lights as to make any short discussion of it seem fragmentary and suggestive merely, and such, in fact, is the intention of the present comments. Enough that we have in it a poetic suggestion brought to expression.



CHAPTER IX.

BACH, BEETHOVEN, SCHUMANN, AND CHOPIN.

There are endless selections of compositions which might be made in order to bring together into a single chapter enough of the music of these four great masters to give a taste of their individualities, style, and sentiment. Following are examples:

PROGRAM I.

Bach, Prelude and Fugue in C minor, Clavier, No. 2. Beethoven, Sonate Pathetique, opus 13. Schumann, Forest Scenes; "Entrance." "Wayside Inn." "Prophetic Bird." "Homeward." Bach, Fantasia in C minor. Loure in G (Heinze). Chopin, Nocturne in G minor, opus 37, No. 1. Waltz in A-flat, opus 42.

PROGRAM II.

Bach, Prelude and Fugue in D major, Clavier, No. 5. Beethoven, Sonata in D, opus 10, No. 3. Schumann, Fantasy Pieces, opus 12: "At Evening." "Excelsior." "Why?" "Whims." "Dream Visions." "End of the Song." Chopin, Nocturne in B major, opus 32, No. 1. Ballad in A-flat, opus 47.

PROGRAM III.

Bach, Prelude and Fugue in C-sharp, Clavier, No. 3. Beethoven, Sonata in A-flat, opus 26. Schumann, Fantasy Pieces, Nos. 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 8. Chopin, Nocturne in B major, opus 32, No. 1. Ballad in A-flat, opus 47.

PROGRAM IV. (Regardless of difficulty.)

Bach, Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue. Beethoven, Sonata, opus III. C minor. Schumann, Etudes Symphoniques, opus 13. Chopin, Nocturne in D-flat major, opus 27, No. 2. Polonaise in A-flat, opus 53.

To discuss these selections in detail would take us too far, for which reason only those observations will be made which seem more essential. Throughout, the intention is to alternate the thematic work of Bach and Schumann with the lyric or quasi-lyric writing of Beethoven and Chopin. While Beethoven was also at times thematic, his work is generally well balanced as to its structure, and so melodious in comparison with almost anything of Schumann (excepting a few distinctly lyric pieces) or of Bach, that it seems like lyric melody. It was also the intention in these programs to preserve an agreeable succession of keys. The first three programs are of moderate difficulty, although not so easy as might be made. Still, in the present state of piano playing there are few seminaries or private circles where these numbers can not be played well enough to afford pleasure and instruction.

Of the various Bach numbers upon the programs the following distinctions may be made: The preludes and fugues are generally contrasted in respect of the qualities of lyric and thematic writing respectively. The prelude in C minor, for instance, is almost an exercise, being without clearly expressed melody (although the accents in the soprano distinctly suggest a melody), and the whole is rapid and incisive. The fugue, on the other hand, opens with a very sprightly idea, which is carried out delightfully, quite in the manner of a scherzo. The prelude in D major, again, is very light and graceful, yet having a character somewhat between a fancy piece of tone-poetry and an exercise, being capable of receiving either construction, according to the ability and skill of the player. The fugue, on the contrary, is rather firm, resolute, and marked, yet with distinct touches of sentiment—which latter quality is always to be sought for in the playing, but without resorting to rubato. It is not enough to present these selections, they must be made to display the best effect of which they are capable. It is not a question of composers merely, but why we should love and reverence them. The prelude in C-sharp is one of the loveliest in the entire "Clavier." It is lyric in its principal motive, and there is a very pretty interlude of alternating work between the two hands upon the dominant, just before the return of the principal theme, which is quite in modern style. The fugue also is very melodious, yet at the same time rather difficult, and it will be a good player who is able to produce this fugue successfully in anything short of about a month's practice. With the last program we come upon a very different grade of difficulty, especially in the matter of interpretation, for in mere finger work the last Bach piece is not so much more difficult than the fugue in C-sharp major.

The "Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue" is a very curious illustration of Bach's genius. No one knows the circumstances under which it was written nor the time. There is absolutely nothing else in his works which is at all like it, taken as a whole, although each one of its peculiarities may perhaps be found elsewhere in his works. It opens with a bravura run in scale work,—the two hands co-operating interchangeably,—which must have the character of a bold flourish, such as a virtuoso might give upon taking his place and beginning his piece. This is followed with a delicate harmonic passage in which a melody is very distinctly suggested; a very delicate and musical passage it is. Then the bravura run returns, and then the harmonic arpeggio motive as before, but always carried out in different keys and chords. Upon these two elements the first part of the fantasia is constructed.

In the forty-ninth measure begins another chapter, in which we have a series of recitative-like phrases, the most of which end upon diminished chords and contain or suggest enharmonic modulations of extreme modern type. The recitatives are very expressive, and their proper delivery necessitates a high degree of musical sensitiveness and experience in singing. After the recitatives, at measure 76, a coda begins, which brings the fantasia to an end. The coda is perhaps the most beautiful part of this great work. I have here also forgotten to mention the series of arpeggios upon chromatic chords, beginning in measure 27. These Bach wrote merely as chords to be played arpeggio, and it was for a long time a question as to what manner of filling up the time would be nearest his intention. Mendelssohn, in one of his letters, says he wishes that he knew what Bach meant here, and I believe it is generally thought that the carrying out of the arpeggios in Hans von Buelow's edition of this piece is very near the solution suggested by Mendelssohn. At any rate, I advise using the Buelow edition, particularly as the figures are written out in full and the fingering is carefully marked—a very important consideration in one or two places in the fugue.