# A Dictionary of Music and Musicians/Symphony

​SYMPHONY (Sinfonia, Sinfonie, Symphonie). The terms used in connection with any branch of art are commonly very vague and indefinite in the early stages of its history, and are applied without much discrimination to different things. In course of time men consequently find themselves in difficulties, and try, as far as their opportunities go, to limit the definition of the terms, and to confine them at least to things which are not obviously antagonistic. In the end, however, the process of sifting is rather guided by chance and external circumstances than determined by the meaning which theorists see to be the proper one; and the result is that the final meaning adopted by the world in general is frequently not only distinct from that which the original employers of the word intended, but also in doubtful conformity with its derivation. In the case of the word 'Symphony,' as with 'Sonata,' the meaning now accepted happens to be in very good accordance with its derivation, but it is considerably removed from the meaning which was originally attached to the word. It seems to have been used at first in a very general and comprehensive way, to express any portions of music or passages whatever which were thrown into relief as purely instrumental ​in works in which the chief interest was centred upon the voice or voices. Thus, in the operas, cantatas, and masses of the early part of the 17th century, the voices had the most important part of the work to do, and the instruments' chief business was to supply simple forms of harmony as accompaniment. If there were any little portions which the instruments played without the voices, these were indiscriminately called Symphonies; and under the same head were included such more particular forms as Overtures and Ritornelli. The first experimentalists in harmonic music generally dispensed with such independent instrumental passages altogether. For instance, most if not all of the cantatas of Cesti and Rossi are devoid of either instrumental introduction or ritornel; and the same appears to have been the case with many of the operas of that time. There were however a few independent little instrumental movements even in the earliest operas. Peri's 'Euridice,' which stands almost at the head of the list (having been performed at Florence in 1600, as part of the festival in connection with the marriage of Henry IV of France and Mary de' Medici), contains a 'Sinfonia' for three flutes, which has a definite form of its own and is very characteristic of the time. The use of short instrumental passages, such as dances and introductions and ritornels, when once fairly begun, increased rapidly. Monteverde, who followed close upon Peri, made some use of them, and as the century grew older, they became a more and more important element in dramatic works, especially operas. The indiscriminate use of the word 'symphony,' to denote the passages of introduction to airs and recitatives, etc., lasted for a very long while, and got so far stereotyped in common usage that it was even applied to the instrumental portions of airs, etc., when played by a single performer. As an example may be quoted the following passage from a letter of Mozart's—'Sie (meaning Strinasacchi) spielt keine Note ohne Empfindung; sogar bei den Sinfonien spielte sie alles mit Expression,' etc. With regard to this use of the term, it is not necessary to do more than point out the natural course by which the meaning began to be restricted. Lulli, Alessandro Scarlatti, and other great composers of operas in the 17th century, extended the appendages of airs to proportions relatively considerable, but there was a limit beyond which such dependent passages could not go. The independent instrumental portions, on the other hand, such as overtures or toccatas, or groups of ballet tunes, were in different circumstances, and could be expanded to a very much greater extent; and as they grew in importance the name 'Symphony' came by degrees to have a more special significance. The small instrumental appendages to the various airs and so forth were still symphonies in a general sense, but the Symphony par excellence was the introductory movement; and the more it grew in importance the more distinctive was this application of the term.
The earliest steps in the development of this portion of the opera are chiefly important as attempts to establish some broad principle of form; which for some time amounted to little more than the balance of short divisions, of slow and quick movement alternately. Lulli is credited with the invention of one form, which came ultimately to be known as the 'Ouverture à la manière Française.' The principles of this form, as generally understood, amounted to no more than the succession of a slow solid movement to begin with, followed by a quicker movement in a lighter style, and another slow movement, not so grave in character as the first, to conclude with. Lulli himself was not rigidly consistent in the adoption of this form. In some cases, as in 'Persée,' 'Thesée,' and 'Bellérophon,' there are two divisions only—the characteristic grave opening movement, and a short free fugal quick movement. 'Proserpine,' 'Phaéton,' 'Alceste,' and the Ballet piece, 'Le Triomphe de l'amour,' are characteristic examples of the complete model. These have a grave opening, which is repeated, and then the livelier central movement, which is followed by a division marked 'lentement'; and the last two divisions are repeated in full together. A few examples are occasionally to be met with by less famous composers than Lulli, which show how far the adoption of this form of overture or symphony became general in a short time. An opera called 'Venus and Adonis,' by Desmarests, of which there is a copy in the Library of the Royal College of Music, has the overture in this form. 'Amadis de Grèce,' by Des Touches, has the same, as far as can be judged from the character of the divisions; 'Albion and Albanius,' by Grabu, which was licensed for publication in England by Roger Lestrange in 1687, has clearly the same, and looks like an imitation direct from Lulli; and the 'Venus and Adonis' by Dr. John Blow, yet again the same. So the model must have been extensively appreciated. The most important composer, however, who followed Lulli in this matter, was Alessandro Scarlatti, who certainly varied and improved on the model both as regards the style and the form. In his opera of 'Flavio Cuniberto' for instance, the 'Sinfonia avanti l'Opera' begins with a division marked grave, which is mainly based on simple canonical imitations, but has also broad expanses of contrasting keys. The style, for the time, is noble and rich, and very superior to Lulli's. The second division is a lively allegro, and the last a moderately quick minuet in 6-8 time. The 'Sinfonia' to his serenata 'Venere, Adone, Amore,' similarly has a Largo to begin with, a Presto in the middle, and a movement, not defined by a tempo, but clearly of moderate quickness, to end with. This form of 'Sinfonia' survived for a long while, and was expanded at times by a succession of dance movements, for which also Lulli supplied examples, and Handel ​at a later time more familiar types; but for the history of the modern symphony, a form which was distinguished from the other as the 'Italian Overture,' ultimately became of much greater importance.
This form appears in principle to be the exact opposite of the French Overture: it was similarly divided into three movements, but the first and last were quick and the central one slow. Who the originator of this form was it seems now impossible to decide; it certainly came into vogue very soon after the French Overture, and quickly supplanted it to a great extent. Certain details in its structure were better defined than in the earlier form, and the balance and distribution of characteristic features were alike freer and more comprehensive. The first allegro was generally in a square time and of solid character; the central movement aimed at expressiveness, and the last was a quick movement of relatively light character, generally in some combination of three feet. The history of its early development seems to be wrapped in obscurity, but from the moment of its appearance it has the traits of the modern orchestral symphony, and composers very soon obtained a remarkable degree of mastery over the form. It must have first come into definite acceptance about the end of the 17th or the beginning of the 18th century; and by the middle of the latter it had become almost a matter of course. Operas, and similar works by the most conspicuous composers of this time, in very great numbers, have the same form of overture. For instance, the two distinct versions of 'La Clemenza di Tito' by Hasse, 'Catone in Utica' by Leonardo Vinci (1728), the 'Hypermnestra,' 'Artaserse,' and others of Perez, Piccini's 'Didone,' Jomelli's 'Betulia liberata,' Sacchini's 'Œdipus,' Galuppi's 'Il mondo alla reversa'—produced the year before Haydn wrote his first symphony—and Adam Hiller's 'Lisuart und Dariolette,' 'Die Liebe auf dem Lande,' 'Der Krieg,' etc. And if a more conclusive proof of the general acceptance of the form were required, it would be found in the fact that Mozart adopted it in his boyish operas, 'La finta semplice' and 'Lucio Silla.' With the general adoption of the form came also a careful development of the internal structure of each separate movement, and also a gradual improvement both in the combination and treatment of the instruments employed. Lulli and Alessandro Scarlatti were for the most part satisfied with strings, which the former used crudely enough, but the latter with a good deal of perception of tone and appropriateness of style; sometimes with the addition of wind instruments. Early in the eighteenth century several wind instruments, such as oboes, bassoons, horns, trumpets, and flutes, were added, though not often all together; and they served, for the most part, chiefly to strengthen the strings and give contrasting degrees of full sound rather than contrasts of colour and tone. Equally important was the rapid improvement which took place simultaneously in internal structure; and in this case the development followed that of certain other departments of musical form. In fact the progress of the 'Sinfonia avanti l'Opera' in this respect was chiefly parallel to the development of the Clavier Sonata, which at this time was beginning to attain to clearness of outline, and a certain maturity of style. It will not be necessary here to repeat what has elsewhere been discussed from different points of view in the articles on Form, Sonata, and Suite; but it is important to realise that in point of time the form of this 'Sinfonia avanti l'Opera' did not lag behind in definition of outline and mastery of treatment; and it might be difficult to decide in which form (whether orchestral or clavier) the important detail first presents itself of defining the first and second principal sections by subjects decisively distinct. A marked improvement in various respects appears about the time when the symphony first began to be generally played apart from the opera; and the reasons for this are obvious. In the first place, as long as it was merely the appendage to a drama, less stress was laid upon it; and, what is more to the point, it is recorded that audiences were not by any means particularly attentive to the instrumental portion of the work. The description given of the behaviour of the public at some of the most important theatres in Europe in the middle of the eighteenth century, seems to correspond to the descriptions which are given of the audience at the Italian Operas in England in the latter half of the nineteenth. Burney, in the account of his tour, refers to this more than once. In the first volume he says, 'The music at the theatres in Italy seems but an excuse for people to assemble together, their attention being chiefly placed on play and conversation, even during the performance of a serious opera.' In another place he describes the card tables, and the way in which the 'people of quality' reserved their attention for a favourite air or two, or the performance of a favourite singer. The rest, including the overture, they did not regard as of much consequence, and hence the composers had but little inducement to put out the best of their powers. It may have been partly on this account that they took very little pains to connect these overtures or symphonies with the opera, either by character or feature. They allowed it to become almost a settled principle that they should be independent in matter; and consequently there was very little difficulty in accepting them as independent instrumental pieces. It naturally followed as it did later with another form of overture. The 'Symphonies' which had more attractive qualities were played apart from the operas, in concerts; and the precedent being thereby established, the step to writing independent works on similar lines was but short; and it was natural that, as undivided attention would now be given to them, and they were no more in a secondary position in connection with the opera, composers should ​take more pains both in the structure and in the choice of their musical material. The Symphony had however reached a considerable pitch of development before the emancipation took place; and this development was connected with the progress of certain other musical forms besides the Sonata, already referred to.
It will accordingly be convenient, before proceeding further with the direct history of the Symphony, to consider some of the more important of these early branches of Musical Art. In the early harmonic times the relationships of nearly all the different branches of composition were close. The Symphony was related even to the early Madrigals, through the 'Sonate da Chiesa,' which adopted the Canzona or instrumental version of the Madrigal as a second movement. It was also closely related to the early Fantasias, as the earliest experiments in instrumental music, in which some of the technical necessities of that department were grappled with. It was directly connected with the vocal portions of the early operas, such as airs and recitatives, and derived from them many of the mechanical forms of cadence and harmony which for a long time were a necessary part of its form. The solo Clavier Suite had also something to do with it, but not so much as might be expected. As has been pointed out elsewhere, the suite-form, being very simple in its principle, attained to definition very early, while the sonata-form, which characterised the richest period of harmonic music, was still struggling in elementary stages. The ultimate basis of the suite-form is a contrast of dance tunes; but in the typical early symphony the dance-tunes are almost invariably avoided. When the Symphony was expanded by the addition of the Minuet and Trio, a bond of connection seemed to be established; but still this bond was not at all a vital one, for the Minuet is one of the least characteristic elements of the suite-form proper, being clearly of less ancient lineage and type than the Allemande, Courante, Sarabande, or Gigue, or even the Gavotte and Bourrée, which were classed with it, as Intermezzi or Galanterien. The form of the Clavier Suite movements was in fact too inelastic to admit of such expansion and development as was required in the orchestral works, and the type did not supply the characteristic technical qualities which would be of service in their development. The position of Bach's Orchestral Suites was somewhat different; and it appears that he himself called them Overtures. Dehn, in his preface to the first edition printed, says that the separate MS. parts in the Bach archives at Hamburg, from which he took that in C, have the distinctive characteristics of the handwriting of John Sebastian, and have for title 'Ouverture pour 2 Violons,' etc.; and that another MS., probably copied from these, has the title 'Suite pour Orchestre.' This throws a certain light upon Bach's position. It is obvious that in several departments of instrumental music he took the French for his models rather than the Italians. In the Suite he followed Couperin, and in the Overture he also followed French models. These therefore appear as attempts to develop an independent orchestral work analogous to the Symphony, upon the basis of a form which had the same reason for existence and the same general purpose as the Italian Overture, but a distinctly different general outline. Their chief connection with the actual development of the modern symphony lies in the treatment of the instruments; for all experiments, even on different lines, if they have a common quality or principle, must react upon one another in those respects.
Another branch of art which had close connection with the early symphonies was the Concerto. Works under this name were not by any means invariably meant to be show pieces for solo instruments, as modern concertos are; and sometimes the name was used as almost synonymous with symphony. The earliest concertos seem to have been works in which groups of 'solo' and 'ripieno' instruments were used, chiefly to obtain contrasts of fullness of tone. For instance, a set of six concertos by Alessandro Scarlatti, for two violins and cello, 'soli,' and two violins, tenor, and bass, 'ripieni,' present no distinction of style between one group and the other. The accompanying instruments for the most part merely double the solo parts, and leave off either to lessen the sound here and there, or because the passages happen to go a little higher than usual, or to be a little difficult for the average violin-players of that time. When the intention is to vary the quality of sound as well, the element of what is called instrumentation is introduced, and this is one of the earliest phases of that element which can be traced in music. The order of movements and the style of them are generally after the manner of the Sonate da Chiesa, and therefore do not present any close analogy with the subject of this article. But very soon after the time of Corelli and Alessandro Scarlatti the form of the Italian overture was adopted for concertos, and about the same time they began to show traces of becoming show-pieces for great performers. Allusions to the performance of concertos by great violin-players in the churches form a familiar feature in the musical literature of the 18th century, and the three-movement-form (to all intents exactly like that of the symphonies) seems to have been adopted early. This evidently points to the fact that this form appealed to the instincts of composers generally, as the most promising for free expression of their musical thoughts. It may seem curious that J. S. Bach, who followed French models in some important departments of instrumental music, should exclusively have followed Italian models in this. But in reality it appears to have been a matter of chance with him; he always followed the best models which came to his hand. In this department the Italians excelled; and Bach therefore followed them, and left the most important early ​specimens of this kind remaining—almost all in the three movement-form, which was becoming the set order for symphonies. Setting aside those specially imitated from Vivaldi, there are at least twenty concertos by him for all sorts of solo instruments and combinations of solo instruments in this same form. It cannot therefore be doubted that some of the development of the symphony-form took place in this department. But Bach never to any noticeable extent yielded to the tendency to break the movements up into sections with corresponding tunes; and this distinguishes his work in a very marked manner from that of the generation of composers who followed him. His art belongs in reality to a different stratum from that which produced the greater forms of abstract instrumental music. It is probable that his form of art could not without some modification have produced the great orchestral symphonies. In order to get to these, composers had to go to a different, and for some time a decidedly lower, level. It was much the same process as had been gone through before. After Palestrina a backward move was necessary to make it possible to arrive at the art of Bach and Handel. After Bach men had to take up a lower line in order to get to Beethoven. In the latter case it was necessary to go through the elementary stages of defining the various contrasting sections of a movement, and finding that form of harmonic treatment which admitted the great effects of colour or varieties of tone in the mass, as well as in the separate lines of the counterpoint. Bach's position was so immensely high that several generations had to pass before men were able to follow on his lines and adopt his principles in harmonic music. The generation that followed him showed scarcely any trace of his influence. Even before be had passed away the new tendencies of music were strongly apparent, and much of the elementary work of the modern sonata form of art had been done on different lines from his own.
The 'Sinfonia avanti l'Opera' was clearly by this time sufficiently independent and complete to be appreciated without the opera, and without either name or programme to explain its meaning; and within a very short period the demand for these sinfonias became very great. Burney's tours in search of materials for his History, in France, Italy, Holland, and Germany, were made in 1770 and 72, before Haydn had written any of his greater symphonies, and while Mozart was still a boy. His allusions to independent 'symphonies' are very frequent. Among those whose works he mentions with most favour are Stamitz, Emmanuel Bach, Christian Bach, and Abel. Works of the kind by these composers and many others of note are to be seen in great numbers in sets of part-books in the British Museum. These furnish most excellent materials for judging of the status of the Symphony in the early stages of its independent existence. The two most important points which they illustrate are the development of instrumentation, and the definition of form. They appear to have been generally written in eight parts. Most of them are scored for two violins, viola, and bass; two hautboys, or two flutes, and two 'cors de chasse.' This is the case in the six symphonies of opus 3 of John Christian Bach; the six of Abel's opus 10, the six of Stamitz's opus 9, opus 13, and opus 16; also in a set of 'Overtures in 8 parts' by Arne, which must have been early in the field, as the licence from George II, printed in full at the beginning of the first violin part, is dated January 17 40/41. The same orchestration is found in many symphonies by Galuppi, Ditters, Schwindl, and others. Wagenseil, who must have been the oldest of this group of composers (having been born in the 17th century, within six years after Handel, Scarlatti, and Bach), wrote several quite in the characteristic harmonic style, 'à 4 parties obligées avec Cors de Chasse ad libitum.' The treatment of the instruments in these early examples is rather crude and stiff. The violins are almost always playing, and the hautboys or flutes are only used to reinforce them at times as the 'ripieni' instruments did in the early concertos, while the horns serve to hold on the harmonies. The first stages of improvement are noticeable in such details as the independent treatment of the strings. In the 'symphonies before the opera' the violas were cared for so little that in many cases not more than half-a-dozen bars are written in, all the rest being merely 'col basso.' As examples of this in works of more or less illustrious writers may be mentioned the 'Sinfonias' to Jomelli's 'Passione' and 'Betulia Liberata,' Sacchini's 'Œdipus,' and Sarti's 'Giulio Sabino.' One of the many honours attributed to Stamitz by his admiring contemporaries was that he made the violas independent of the basses. This may seem a trivial detail, but it is only by such details, and the way in which they struck contemporary writers, that the character of the gradual progress in instrumental composition can now be understood.
The general outlines of the form were extremely regular. The three movements as above described were almost invariable, the first being a vigorous broad allegro, the second the sentimental slow movement, and the third the lively vivace. The progress of internal structure is at first chiefly noticeable in the first movement. In the early examples this is always condensed as much as possible, the balance of subjects is not very clearly realisable, and there is hardly ever a double bar or repeat of the first half of the movement. The divisions of key, the short 'working out' portion, and the recapitulation, are generally present, but not pointedly defined. Examples of this condition of things are supplied by some MS. symphonies by Paradisi in the Fitzwilliam Museum at Cambridge, which in other respects possess excellent and characteristically modern traits. The first thing attained seems to have been the relative definition and balance of the two subjects. In Stamitz, Abel, J. C. Bach, and Wagenseil, this is already commonly met with. The following ​examples from the first movement of the fifth symphony of Stamitz's opus 9 illustrate both the style and the degree of contrast between the two principal subjects,
The style is a little heavy, and the motion constrained, but the general character is solid and dignified. The last movements of this period are curiously suggestive of some familiar examples of a maturer time; very gay and obvious, and very definite in outline. The following is very characteristic of Abel:—
It is a noticeable fact in connection with the genealogy of these works, that they are almost as frequently entitled 'Overture' as 'Symphony'; sometimes the same work is called by the one name outside and the other in; and this is the case also with some of the earlier and slighter symphonies of Haydn, which must have made their appearance about this period. One further point which it is of importance to note is that in some of Stamitz's symphonies the complete form of the mature period is found. One in D is most complete in every respect. The first movement is Allegro with double bars and repeats in regular binary form; the second is an Andante in G, the third a Minuet and Trio, and the fourth a Presto. Another in E♭ (which is called no. 7 in the part-books) and another in F (not definable) have also the Minuet and Trio. A few others by Schwindl and Ditters have the same, but it is impossible to get even approximately to the date of their production, and therefore little inference can be framed upon the circumstance, beyond the fact that composers were beginning to recognise the fourth movement as a desirable ingredient.
Another composer who precedes Haydn in time as well as in style is Emmanuel Bach. He was his senior in years, and began writing symphonies in 1741, when Haydn was only nine years old. His most important symphonies were produced in 1776; while Haydn's most important examples were not produced till after 1790. In style Emmanuel Bach stands singularly alone, at least in his finest examples. It looks almost as if he purposely avoided the form which by 1776 must have been familiar to the musical world. It has been shown that the binary form was employed by some of his contemporaries in their orchestral works, but he seems determinedly to avoid it in the first movements of the works of that year. His object seems to have been to produce striking and clearly outlined passages, and to balance and contrast them one with another according to his fancy, and with little regard to any systematic distribution of the successions of key. The boldest and most striking subject is the first of the Symphony in D:—
​The opening passages of that in E♭ are hardly less emphatic. They have little connection with the tendencies of his contemporaries, but seem in every respect an experiment on independent lines, in which the interest depends upon the vigour of the thoughts and the unexpected turns of the modulations; and the result is certainly rather fragmentary and disconnected. The slow movement is commonly connected with the first and last either by a special transitional passage, or by a turn of modulation and a half close. It is short and dependent in its character, but graceful and melodious. The last is much more systematic in structure than the first; sometimes in definite binary form, as was the case with the early violin sonatas. In orchestration and general style of expression these works seem immensely superior to the other early symphonies which have been described. They are scored for horns, flutes, oboi, fagotto, strings, with a figured bass for 'cembalo,' which in the symphonies previously noticed does not always appear. There is an abundance of unison and octave passages for the strings, but there is also good free writing, and contrasts between wind and strings; the wind being occasionally left quite alone. All the instruments come in occasionally for special employment, and considering the proportions of the orchestras of the time Bach's effects must have been generally clear and good. The following is a good specimen of his scoring of an ordinary full passage:—
It has sometimes been said that Haydn was chiefly influenced by Emmanuel Bach, and Mozart by John Christian Bach. At the present time, and in relation to symphonies, it is easier to understand the latter case than the former. In both cases the influence is more likely to be traced in clavier works than in those for orchestra. For Haydn's style and treatment of form bear far more resemblance to most of the other composers whose works have been referred to, than to Emmanuel Bach. There are certain kinds of forcible expression and ingenious turns of modulation which Haydn may have learnt from him; but their best orchestral works seem to belong to quite distinct families. Haydn's first symphony was written in 1759 for Count Morzin. Like many other of his early works it does not seem discoverable in print in this country. But it is said by Pohl, who must have seen it somewhere in Germany, to be 'a small work in three movements for 2 violins, viola, bass, 2 oboes, and 2 horns'; from which particulars it would appear to correspond exactly in externals to the examples above described of Abel's and J. C. Bach's, etc. In the course of the next few years he added many more; most of which appear to have been slight and of no great historical importance, while the few which present peculiarities are so far isolated in those respects that they do not throw much light upon the course of his development, or upon his share in building up the art-form of the Symphony. Of such a kind is the movement (dramatic in character, and including long passages of recitative) in the Symphony in C, which he wrote as early as 1761. For, though this kind of movement is found in instrumental works of an earlier period, its appearance in such a manner in a symphony is too rare to have any special historical bearings. The course of his development was gradual and regular. He seems to have been content with steadily improving the edifice of his predecessors, and with few exceptions to have followed their lines. A great deal is frequently attributed to his ​connection with the complete musical establishment which Prince Esterhazy set up at his great palace at Esterház; where Haydn certainly had opportunities which have been the lot of scarcely any other composer who ever lived. He is described as making experiments in orchestration, and ringing the bell for the band to come and try them; and, though this may not be absolutely true in fact, there can scarcely be a doubt that the very great improvements which he effected in every department of orchestration may to a great extent be attributed to the facilities for testing his works which he enjoyed. At the same time the really important portion of his compositions were not produced till his patron, Prince Nicolaus Esterhazy, was dead, and the musical establishment broken up; nor, it must be remembered, till after that strange and important episode in Haydn's life, the rapid flitting of Mozart across the scene. When Haydn wrote his first symphony, Mozart was only three years old; and Mozart died in the very year in which the famous Salomon concerts in London, for which Haydn wrote nearly all his finest symphonies, began. Mozart's work therefore comes between Haydn's lighter period and his greatest achievements; and his symphonies are in some respects prior to Haydn's, and certainly had effect upon his later works of all kinds.
According to Köchel, Mozart wrote altogether forty-nine symphonies. The first, in E♭, was written in London in 1764, when he was eight years old, and only five years after Haydn wrote his first. It was on the same pattern as those which have been fully described above, being in three movements and scored for the usual set of instruments namely, two violins, viola, bass, two oboes and two horns. Three more followed in close succession, in one of which clarinets are introduced instead of oboes, and a bassoon is added to the usual group of eight instruments. In these works striking originality of purpose or style is hardly to be looked for, and it was not for some time that Mozart's powers in instrumental music reached a pitch of development which is historically important; but it is nevertheless astonishing to see how early he developed a free and even rich style in managing his orchestral resources. With regard to the character of these and all but a few of the rest, it is necessary to keep in mind that a symphony at that time was a very much less important matter than it became fifty years later. The manner in which symphonies were poured out, in sets of six and otherwise, by numerous composers during the latter half of the eighteenth century, puts utterly out of the question the loftiness of aim and purpose which has become a necessity since the early years of the present century. They were all rather slight works on familiar lines, with which for the time being composers and public were alike quite content; and neither Haydn nor Mozart in their early specimens seem to have specially exerted themselves. The general survey of Mozart's symphonies presents a certain number of facts which are worth noting for their bearing upon the history of this form of art. The second symphony he wrote had a minuet and trio; but it is hardly possible that he can have regarded this as an important point, since he afterwards wrote seventeen others without them; and these spread over the whole period of his activity, for even in that which he wrote at Prague in 1786, and which is last but three in the whole series, the minuet and trio are absent. Besides this fact, which at once connects them with the examples by other composers previously discussed, there is the yet more noticeable one that more than twenty of the series are written for the same peculiar little group of instruments, viz. the four strings, a pair of oboes or flutes, and a pair of horns. Although he used clarinets so early as his third symphony, he never employed them again till his thirty-ninth, which was written for Paris, and is almost more fully scored than any. In the whole forty-nine, in fact, he only used clarinets five times, and in one of these cases (viz. the well-known G minor) they were added after he had finished the score. Even bassoons are not common; the most frequent addition to the little nucleus of oboes or flutes and horns being trumpets and drums. The two which are most fully scored are the Parisian, in D, just alluded to, which was written in 1778, and that in E♭, which was written in Vienna in 1788, and stands first in the famous triad. These facts explain to a certain extent how it was possible to write such an extraordinary number in so short a space of time. Mozart's most continuously prolific period in this branch of art seems to have been when he had returned to Salzburg in 1771; for between July in that year and the beginning of 1773, it appears to be proved that he produced no less than fourteen. But this feat is fairly surpassed in another sense by the production of the last three in three successive months, June, July, and August, 1788; since the musical calibre of these is so immensely superior to that of the earlier ones.
One detail of comparison between Mozart's ways and Haydn's is curious. Haydn began to use introductory adagios very early, and used them so often that they became quite a characteristic feature in his plan. Mozart, on the other hand, did not use one until his 44th Symphony, written in 1783. What was the origin of Haydn's employment of them is uncertain. The causes that have been suggested are not altogether satisfactory. In the orthodox form of symphony, as written by the numerous composers of his early days, the opening adagio is not found. He may possibly have observed that it was a useful factor in a certain class of overtures, and then have used it as an experiment in symphonies, and finding it answer, may have adopted the expedient generally in succeeding works of the kind. It seems likely that Mozart adopted it from Haydn, as its first appearance (in the symphony which is believed ​to have been composed at Linz for Count Thun) coincides with the period in which he is considered to have been first strongly influenced by Haydn.
The influence of these two great composers upon one another is extremely interesting and curious, more especially as it did not take effect till comparatively late in their artistic careers. They both began working in the general direction of their time, under the influences which have been already referred to. In the department of symphony each was considerably influenced after a time by a special circumstance of his life; Haydn by the appointment to Esterház before alluded to, and the opportunities it afforded him of orchestral experiment; and Mozart by his stay at Mannheim in 1777. For it appears most likely that the superior abilities of the Mannheim orchestra for dealing with purely instrumental music, and the traditions of Stamitz, who had there effected his share in the history of the Symphony, opened Mozart's eyes to the possibilities of orchestral performance, and encouraged him to a freer style of composition and more elaborate treatment of the orchestra than he had up to that time attempted. The Mannheim band had in fact been long considered the finest in Europe; and in certain things, such as attention to nuances (which in early orchestral works had been looked upon as either unnecessary or out of place), they and their conductors had been important pioneers; and thus Mozart must certainly have had his ideas on such heads a good deal expanded. The qualities of the symphony produced in Paris early in the next year were probably the first fruits of these circumstances; and it happens that while this symphony is the first of his which has maintained a definite position among the important landmarks of art, it is also the first in which he uses orchestral forces approaching to those commonly employed for symphonies since the latter part of the last century.
Both Haydn and Mozart, in the course of their respective careers, made decided progress in managing the orchestra, both as regards the treatment of individual instruments, and the distribution of the details of musical interest among them. It has been already pointed out that one of the earliest expedients by which contrast of effect was attempted by writers for combinations of instruments, was the careful distribution of portions for 'solo' and 'ripieno' instruments, as illustrated by Scarlatti's and later concertos. In J. S. Bach's treatment of the orchestra the same characteristic is familiar. The long duets for oboes, flutes, or bassoons, and the solos for horn or violin, or viola da gamba, which continue throughout whole recitatives or arias, all have this same principle at bottom. Composers had still to learn the free and yet well-balanced management of their string forces, and to attain the mean between the use of wind instruments merely to strengthen the strings and their use as solo instruments in long independent passages. In Haydn's early symphonies the old traditions are most apparent. The balance between the different forces of the orchestra is as yet both crude and obvious. In the symphony called 'Le Matin' for instance, which appears to have been among the earliest, the second violins play with the first, and the violas with the basses to a very marked extent—in the first movement almost throughout. This first movement, again, begins with a solo for flute. The slow movement, which is divided into adagio and andante, has no wind instruments at all, but there is a violin solo throughout the middle portion. In the minuet a contrast is attained by a long passage for wind band alone (as in J. S. Bach's 2nd Bourrée to the 'Ouverture' in C major); and the trio consists of a long and elaborate solo for bassoon. Haydn early began experiments in various uses of his orchestra, and his ways of grouping his solo instruments for effect are often curious and original. C. F. Pohl, in his life of him, prints from the MS. parts a charming slow movement from a B♭ symphony, which was probably written in 1766 or 1767. It illustrates in a singular way how Haydn at first endeavoured to obtain a special effect without ceasing to conform to familiar methods of treating his strings. The movement is scored for first and second violins, violas, solo violoncello and bass, all 'con sordini.' The first and second violins play in unison thoughout, and the cello plays the tune with them an octave lower, while the violas play in octaves with the bass all but two or three bars of cadence; so that in reality there are scarcely ever more than two parts playing at a time. The following example will show the style:—
Towards a really free treatment of his forces he seems, however, to have been led on insensibly and by very slow degrees. For over twenty years of symphony-writing the same limited treatment of strings and the same kind of solo passages are commonly to be met with. But there is a growing tendency to make the wind and the lower and inner strings more and more independent, and to individualise the style of each within proportionate bounds. A fine symphony (in E minor, 'Letter I') which appears to date from 1772, is a good specimen of Haydn's intermediate stage. The strings play almost incessantly throughout, and the wind either doubles ​the string parts to enrich and reinforce them, or else has long holding notes while the strings play characteristic figures. The following passage from the last movement will serve to illustrate pretty clearly the stage of orchestral expression to which Haydn had at that time arrived:—
In the course of the following ten years the progress was slow but steady. No doubt many other composers were writing symphonies besides Haydn and Mozart, and were, like them, improving that branch of art. Unfortunately the difficulty of fixing the dates of their productions is almost insuperable; and so their greater representatives come to be regarded, not only as giving an epitome of the history of the epoch, but as comprising it in themselves. Mozart's first specially notable symphony falls in 1778. This was the one which he wrote for Paris after his experiences at Mannheim; and some of his Mannheim friends who happened to be in Paris with him assisted at the performance. It is in almost every respect a very great advance upon Haydn's E minor Symphony, just quoted. The treatment of the instruments is very much freer, and more individually characteristic. It marks an important step in the transition from the kind of symphony in which the music appears to have been conceived almost entirely for violins, with wind subordinate, except in special solo passages, to the kind in which the original conception in respect of subjects, episodes and development, embraced all the forces, including the wind instruments. The first eight bars of Mozart's symphony are sufficient to illustrate the nature of the artistic tendency. In the firm and dignified beginning of the principal subject, the strings, with flutes and bassoons, are all in unison for three bars, and a good body of wind instruments gives the full chord. Then the upper strings are left alone for a couple of bars in octaves, and are accompanied in their short closing phrase by an independent full chord of wind instruments, piano. This chord is repeated in the same form of rhythm as that which marks the first bars of the principal subject, and has therefore at once musical sense and relevancy, besides supplying the necessary full harmony. In the subsidiary subject by which the first section is carried on, the quick lively passages of the strings are accompanied by short figures for flute and horns, with their own independent musical significance. In the second subject proper, which is derived from this subsidiary, an excellent balance of colour is obtained by pairs of wind instruments in octaves, answering with an independent and very characteristic phrase of their own the group of strings which give out the first part of the subject. The same well-balanced method is observed throughout. In the working out of this movement almost all the instruments have something special and relevant of their own to do, so that it is made to seem as if the conception were exactly apportioned to the forces which were meant to utter it. The same criticisms apply to all the rest of the symphony. The slow movement has beautiful independent figures and phrases for the wind instruments, so interwoven with the body of the movement that they supply necessary elements of colour and fulness of harmony, without appearing either as definite solos or as meaningless holding notes. The fresh and merry last movement has much the same characteristics as the first in the matter of instrumental utterance, and in its working-out section all the forces have, if anything, even more independent work of their own to do, while still supplying their appropriate ingredients to the sum total of sound.
The succeeding ten years saw all the rest of the work Mozart was destined to do in the department of symphony; much of it showing in turn an advance on the Paris Symphony, inasmuch as the principles there shown were worked out to greater fullness and perfection, while the musical spirit attained a more definite richness, and escaped further from the formalism which characterises the previous generation. Among these symphonies the most important are the following: a considerable one (in E♭) composed at Salzburg in 1780; the 'Haffner' (in D), which was a modification of a serenade, and had originally more than the usual group of movements; the 'Linz' Symphony (in C; 'No. 6'); and the last four, the crown of the whole series. The first of these (in D major) was written for Prague in 1786, and was received there with immense favour in January 1787. It appears to be far in advance of all its predecessors in freedom and clearness of instrumentation, in the breadth and musical significance of the subjects, and in richness and balance of form. It is one of the few of Mozart's which open with an adagio, and that too of unusual proportions; but it has no minuet and trio. This symphony was in its turn eclipsed by the three great ones in E flat, G minor, and C, which were composed at Vienna in June, July and August, 1788. These symphonies are almost the first in which certain qualities of musical expression and a certain method in their treatment stand prominent in the manner which was destined to become characteristic of the great works of the early part of the nineteenth ​century. Mozart having mastered the principle upon which the mature art-form of symphony was to be attacked, had greater freedom for the expression of his intrinsically musical ideas, and could emphasise more freely and consistently the typical characteristics which his inspiration led him to adopt in developing his ideas. It must not, however, be supposed that this principle is to be found for the first time in these works. They find their counterparts in works of Haydn's of a much earlier date; only, inasmuch as the art-form was then less mature, the element of formalism is too strong to admit of the musical or poetical intention being so clearly realised. It is of course impossible to put into words with certainty the inherent characteristics of these or any other later works on the same lines; but that they are felt to have such characteristics is indisputable, and their perfection as works of art, which is so commonly insisted on, could not exist if it were not so. Among the many writers who have tried in some way to describe them, probably the best and most responsible is Otto Jahn. Of the first of the group (that in E♭), he says, 'We find the expression of perfect happiness in the charm of euphony' which is one of the marked external characteristics of the whole work. 'The feeling of pride in the consciousness of power shines through the magnificent introduction, while the Allegro expresses the purest pleasure, now in frolicsome joy, now in active excitement, and now in noble and dignified composure. Some shadows appear, it is true, in the Andante, but they only serve to throw into stronger relief the mild serenity of a mind communing with itself and rejoicing in the peace which fills it. This is the true source of the cheerful transport which rules the last movement, rejoicing in its own strength and in the joy of being.' Whether this is all perfectly true or not is of less consequence than the fact that a consistent and uniform style and object can be discerned through the whole work, and that it admits of an approximate description in words, without either straining or violating familiar impressions.
The second of the great symphonic trilogy—that in G minor—has a still clearer meaning. The contrast with the E♭ is strong, for in no symphony of Mozart's is there so much sadness and regretfulness. This element also accounts for the fact that it is the most modern of his symphonies, and shows most human nature. E. J. A. Hoffmann (writing in a spirit very different from that of Jahn) says of it, 'Love and melancholy breathe forth in purest spirit tones; we feel ourselves drawn with inexpressible longing towards the forms which beckon us to join them in their flight through the clouds to another sphere.' Jahn agrees in attributing to it a character of sorrow and complaining; and there can hardly be a doubt that the tonality as well as the style, and such characteristic features as occur incidentally, would all favour the idea that Mozart's inspiration took a sad cast, and maintained it so far throughout; so that, notwithstanding the formal passages which occasionally make their appearance at the closes, the whole work may without violation of probability receive a consistent psychological explanation. Even the orchestration seems appropriate from this point of view, since the prevailing effect is far less soft and smooth than that of the previous symphony. A detail of historical interest in connection with this work is the fact that Mozart originally wrote it without clarinets, and added them afterwards for a performance at which it may be presumed they happened to be specially available. He did this by taking a separate piece of paper and rearranging the oboe parts, sometimes combining the instruments and sometimes distributing the parts between the two, with due regard to their characteristic styles of utterance.
The last of Mozart's symphonies has so obvious and distinctive a character throughout, that popular estimation has accepted the definite name 'Jupiter' as conveying the prevalent feeling about it. In this there is far less human sentiment than in the G minor. In fact, Mozart appears to have aimed at something lofty and self-contained, and therefore precluding the shade of sadness which is an element almost indispensable to strong human sympathy. When he descends from this distant height, he assumes a cheerful and sometimes playful vein, as in the second principal subject of the first movement, and in the subsidiary or cadence subject that follows it. This may not be altogether in accordance with what is popularly meant by the name 'Jupiter,' though that deity appears to have been capable of a good deal of levity in his time; but it has the virtue of supplying admirable contrast to the main subjects of the section; and it is so far in consonance with them that there is no actual reversal of feeling in passing from one to the other. The slow movement has an appropriate dignity which keeps it in character, and reaches, in parts, a considerable degree of passion, which brings it nearer to human sympathy than the other movements. The Minuet and the Trio again show cheerful serenity, and the last movement, with its elaborate fugal treatment, has a vigorous austerity, which is an excellent balance to the character of the first movement. The scoring, especially in the first and last movements, is fuller than is usual with Mozart, and produces effects of strong and clear sound; and it is also admirably in character with the spirit of dignity and loftiness which seems to be aimed at in the greater portion of the musical subjects and figures. In these later symphonies Mozart certainly reached a far higher pitch of art in the department of instrumental music than any hitherto arrived at. The characteristics of his attainments may be described as a freedom of style in the ideas, freedom in the treatment of the various parts of the score, and independence and appropriateness of expression in the management of the various groups of instruments employed. In comparison with the works of his predecessors, and with his own and Haydn's ​earlier compositions there is throughout a most remarkable advance in vitality. The distribution of certain cadences and passages of tutti still appear to modern ears formal; but compared with the immature formalism of expression, even in principal ideas, which was prevalent twenty or even ten years earlier, the improvement is immense. In such structural elements as the development of the ideas, the concise and energetic flow of the music, the distribution and contrast of instrumental tone, and the balance and proportion of sound, these works are generally held to reach a pitch almost unsurpassable from the point of view of technical criticism. Mozart's intelligence and taste, dealing with thoughts as yet undisturbed by strong or passionate emotion, attained a degree of perfection in the sense of pure and directly intelligible art which later times can scarcely hope to see approached.
Haydn's symphonies up to this time cannot be said to equal Mozart's in any respect; though they show a considerable improvement on the style of treatment and expression in the 'Trauer' or the 'Farewell' Symphonies. Of those which are better known of about this date are 'La Poule' and 'Letter V,' which were written (both for Paris) in 1786 and 1787. 'Letter Q,' or the 'Oxford' Symphony, which was performed when Haydn received the degree of Doctor of Music from that university, dates from 1788, the same year as Mozart's great triad. 'Letter V and 'Letter Q' are in his mature style, and thoroughly characteristic in every respect. The orchestration is clear and fresh, though not so sympathetic nor so elastic in its variety as Mozart's; and the ideas, with all their geniality and directness, are not up to his own highest standard. It is the last twelve, which were written for Salomon after 1790, which have really fixed Haydn's high position as a composer of symphonies; these became so popular as practically to supersede the numerous works of all his predecessors and contemporaries except Mozart, to the extent of causing them to be almost completely forgotten. This is owing partly to the high pitch of technical skill which he attained, partly to the freshness and geniality of his ideas, and partly to the vigour and daring of harmonic progression which he manifested. He and Mozart together enriched this branch of art to an extraordinary degree, and towards the end of their lives began to introduce far deeper feeling and earnestness into the style than had been customary in early works of the class. The average orchestra had increased in size, and at the same time had gained a better balance of its component elements. Instead of the customary little group of strings and four wind instruments, it had come to comprise, besides the strings, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, and drums. To these were occasionally added 2 clarinets, as in Haydn's three last (the two in D minor and one in E♭), and in one movement of the Military Symphony. Neither Mozart nor Haydn ever used trombones in symphonies; but uncommon instruments were sometimes employed, as in the 'Military,' in which Haydn used a big drum, a triangle and cymbals. In his latest symphonies Haydn's treatment of his orchestra agrees in general with the description already given of Mozart's. The bass has attained a free motion of its own; the violas rarely cling in a dependent manner to it, but have their own individual work to do, and the same applies to the second violins, which no longer so often appear merely 'col 1mo.' The wind instruments fill up and sustain the harmonies as completely as in former days; but they cease merely to hold long notes without characteristic features, or slavishly to follow the string parts whenever something livelier is required. They may still play a great deal that is mere doubling, but there is generally method in it; and the musical ideas they express are in a great measure proportioned to their characters and style of utterance. Haydn was rather fond of long passages for wind alone, as in the slow movement of the Oxford Symphony, the opening passage of the first allegro of the Military Symphony, and the 'working out' of the Symphony in C, no. 1 of the Salomon set. Solos in a tune-form for wind instruments are also rather more common than in Mozart's works, and in many respects the various elements which go to make up the whole are less assimilated than they are by Mozart. The tunes are generally more definite in their outlines, and stand in less close relation with their context. It appears as if Haydn always retained to the last a strong sympathy with simple people's-tunes; the character of his minuets and trios, and especially of his finales, is sometimes strongly defined in this respect; but his way of expressing them within the limits he chose is extraordinarily finished and acute. It is possible that, as before suggested, he got his taste for surprises in harmonic progression from C. P. E. Bach. His instinct for such things, considering the age he lived in, was very remarkable. The passage on the next page, from his Symphony in C, just referred to, illustrates several of the above points at once.
appear to have cared very little. They wanted to be healthily pleased and entertained, not stirred with deep emotion; and the purposes of composers in those days were consequently not exalted to any high pitch, but were limited to a simple and unpretentious supply, in accordance with demand and opportunity. Haydn was influenced by these considerations till the last. There is always more fun and gaiety in his music than pensiveness or serious reflection. But in developing the technical part of expression, in proportioning the means to the end, and in organising the forces of the orchestra, what he did was of the utmost importance. It is, however, impossible to apportion the value of the work of the two masters. Haydn did a great deal of important and substantial work before Mozart came into prominence in the same field. But after the first great mark had been made by the Paris Symphony, Mozart seemed to rush to his culmination; and in the last four of his works reached a style which appears richer, more sympathetic, and more complete than anything Haydn could attain to. Then, again, when he had passed away, Haydn produced his greatest works. Each composer had his distinctive characteristics, and each is delightful in his own way; but Haydn would probably not have reached his highest development without the influence of his more richly gifted contemporary; and Mozart for his part was undoubtedly very much under the influence of Haydn at an important part of his career. The best that can be said by way of distinguishing their respective shares in the result is that Mozart's last symphonies introduced an intrinsically musical element which had before been wanting, and showed a supreme perfection of actual art in their structure; while Haydn in the long series of his works cultivated and refined his own powers to such an extent that when his last symphonies had made their appearance, the status of the symphony was raised beyond the possibility of a return to the old level. In fact he gave this branch of art a stability and breadth which served as the basis upon which the art of succeeding generations appears to rest; and the simplicity and clearness of his style ​and structural principles supplied an intelligible model for his successors to follow.
One of the most important of the contemporaries of Haydn and Mozart in this department of art was F. J. Gossec. He was born in 1733, one year after Haydn, and lived like him to a good old age. His chief claim to remembrance is the good work which he did in improving the standard of taste for instrumental music in France. According to Fétis such things as instrumental symphonies were absolutely unknown in Paris before 1754, in which year Gossec published his first, five years before Haydn's first attempt. Gossec's work was carried on most effectually by his founding, in 1770, the 'Concert des Amateurs,' for whom he wrote his most important works. He also took the management of the famous Concerts Spirituels, with Gaviniés and Leduc, in 1773, and furthered the cause of good instrumental music there as well. The few symphonies of his to be found in this country are of the same calibre, and for the same groups of instruments as those of J. C. Bach, Abel, etc., already described; but Fétis attributes importance to him chiefly because of the way in which he extended the dimensions and resources of the orchestra. His Symphony in D, no. 21, written soon after the founding of the Concert des Amateurs, was for a full set of strings, flutes, oboes, clarinets, bassoons, horns, trumpets, and drums; and this was doubtless an astonishing force to the Parisians, accustomed as they had been to regard the compositions of Lulli and Rameau as the best specimens of instrumental music. But it is clear from other indications that Gossec had considerable ideas about the ways in which instrumental music might be improved, analogous on a much smaller scale to the aspirations and attempts of Berlioz at a later date. Not only are his works carefully marked with pianos and fortes, but in some (as the Symphonies of op. xii.) there are elaborate directions as to how the movements are to be played. Some of these are curious. For instance, over the 1st violin part of the slow movement of the second symphony is printed the following: 'La différence du Fort au Doux dans ce morceau doit être excessive, et le mouvement modéré, à l'aise, qu'il semble se jouer avec le plus grand facilité.' Nearly all the separate movements of this set have some such directions, either longer or shorter; the inference from which is that Gossec had a strong idea of expression and style in performance, and did not find his bands very easily led in these respects. The movements themselves are on the same small scale as those of J. C. Bach, Abel, and Stamitz; and very rarely have the double bar and repeat in the first movements, though these often make their appearance in the finales. The style is to a certain extent individual; not so robust or so full as that of Bach or Stamitz, but not without attractiveness. As his works are very difficult to get sight of, the following quotation from the last movement of a symphony in B♭ will serve to give some idea of his style and manner of scoring.
Another composer of symphonies, who is often heard of in juxtaposition with Haydn and Mozart, and sometimes as being preferred to them by the audiences of the time, is Gyrowetz. His symphonies appear to be on a larger scale than those of the prior generation of composers of second rank like himself. A few of them are occasionally to be met with in collections of 'Periodical overtures,' 'symphonies,' etc., published in separate orchestral parts. One in C, scored for small orchestra, has an introductory Adagio, an Allegro of about the dimensions of Haydn's earlier first movements, with double bar in the middle; then an Andante con sordini (the latter a favourite device in central slow movements); then a Minuet and Trio, and, to end with, a Rondo in 2-4 time, Allegro non troppo. Others, in E♭ and B♭, have much the same distribution of movements, but without the introductory Adagio. The style of them is rather mild and complacent, and not approaching in any way the interest or breadth of the works of his great contemporaries; but the subjects are clear and vivacious, and the movements seem fairly developed. Other symphony writers, who had vogue and even ​celebrity about this time and a little later, such as Krommer (beloved by Schubert), the Rombergs, and Eberl (at one time preferred to Beethoven), require no more than passing mention. They certainly furthered the branch of art very little, and were so completely extinguished by the exceptionally great writers who came close upon one another at that time, that it is even difficult to find traces of them.
The greatest of all masters of the Symphony followed so close upon Haydn, that there is less of a gap between the last of Haydn's Symphonies and his first than there was later between some of his own. Haydn's last was probably written in 1795. When Beethoven wrote his first cannot be ascertained; sketches for the Finale are found as early as the year last mentioned; but it was not actually produced in public till April 2, 1800. Like Schumann and Brahms in later days, he did not turn his attention to this branch of composition till comparatively late. The opus-number of his first symphony is 21. It is preceded by eleven pianoforte sonatas, several works for pianoforte combined with other instruments, the well-known Septuor in E♭, and several chamber compositions for strings. So that by the time he came to attacking Symphony he had had considerable practice in dealing with structural matters. The only works in which he had tried his strength with the orchestra were the two concertos—the B♭, op. 19, which was written in or about 1795, and the C major, op. 15, which was written about 1796. He showed himself at once a master of the orchestra; but it is evident that at first he stepped cautiously in expressing himself with such resources. The 1st Symphony is less free and rich in expression, and has more elements of formality, than several works on a smaller scale which preceded it. This is explicable on the general ground that the orchestra, especially in those days, was not a fit exponent of the same kind of things which could be expressed by solo violins, or the pianoforte. The scale must necessarily be larger and broader; the intricate development and delicate or subtle sentiment which is quite appropriate and intelligible in the intimacy of a domestic circle, is out of place in the more public conditions of orchestral performance. This Beethoven must have instinctively felt, and he appears not to have found the style for full expression of his personality in either of the first symphonies. The second is even more curious in that respect than the first, as it comes after one of the richest and most interesting, and another of the most perfectly charming and original of the works of his early period, namely the Sonatas in D minor and E♭ of op. 31. However, even in these two symphonies there is a massiveness and breadth and seriousness of purpose, which mark them as products of a different and more powerfully constituted nature than anything of the kind produced before. At the time when the 1st Symphony appeared, the opening with the chord of the minor 7th of C, when the key of the piece was C major, was looked upon as extremely daring; and the narrow-minded pedants of the day felt their sensitive delicacy so outraged that some of them are said never to have forgiven it. The case is very similar to the famous introduction to Mozart's C major String Quartet, about which the pedants were little less than insulting. Beethoven had to fight for his right to express what he felt to be true; and he did it without flinching; sometimes with an apparent relish. But at the same time, in these early orchestral works he seems to have experimented with caution, and was content to follow his predecessors in a great deal that he put down. There are characteristic things in both symphonies; for instance, in the 1st the transitional passage which begins at the 65th bar of the Allegro, passing from G to G minor and then to B♭ and back again, and the corresponding passage in the second half of the movement. The working out of the Andante cantabile and the persistent drum rhythm are also striking points. In the 2nd Symphony the dimensions of the Introduction are unusual, and the character of all the latter part and the freedom of the transitions in it are decisive marks of his tendencies. The Slow movement has also a warmth and sense of genuine sympathy which is new; the Scherzo, though as yet short, has a totally new character about it, and the abrupt sforzandos and short striking figures and still more the coda, of the Finale, are quite his own. In the orchestra it is worth noting that he adopted clarinets from the first, apparently as a matter of course; in the first two symphonies he continued to use only the one pair of horns, as his predecessors had done; in the third he expanded the group to three. In the 4th he went back to two, and did not use four till the 9th. The disposition of his forces even in the first two is more independent and varied than his predecessors. The treatment of the several groups of instruments tends to be more distinct and appropriate, and at the same time more perfectly assimilated in the total effect of the music. The step to the 3rd Symphony is however immense, and at last shows this branch of composition on a level with his other works of the same period. It is surrounded on both sides by some of his noblest achievements. Opus 47 was the Sonata in A for violin and pianoforte, known as the 'Kreutzer.' Opus 53 is the Sonata in C major, dedicated to Count Waldstein. Opus 54 is the admirable little Sonata in F major. Opus 55 is the Symphony, and opus 57 the Sonata known as the 'Appassionata.' It appears that Beethoven had the idea of writing this symphony as early as 1798, but the actual work was probably done in the summer and autumn of 1803. There seems to be no doubt that it was written under the influence of his admiration for Napoleon. His own title-page had on it 'Sinfonia grande, Napoleon Bonaparte,' and, as is well known, the name 'Eroica' was not added till Napoleon became Emperor; after which event Beethoven's feelings about him naturally underwent a change. To call a great ​work by the name of a great man was quite a different thing from calling it by the name of a crowned ruler. However, the point remains the same, that the work was written with a definite purpose and under the inspiration of a special subject, and one upon which Beethoven himself assuredly had a very decided opinion. The result was the richest and noblest and by far the biggest symphony that had ever yet appeared in the world. It is very possible that Beethoven meant it to be so; but the fact does not make the step from the previous symphonies any the less remarkable. The scoring throughout is most freely distributed. In the first movement especially there is hardly any one of the numerous subjects and characteristic figures which has not properties demanding different departments of the orchestra to express them. They are obviously conceived with reference to the whole forces at command, not to a predominant central force and appendages. The strings must necessarily have the greater part of the work to do, but the symphony is not written for them with wind as a species of afterthought. But it is still to be noticed that the balance is obtained chiefly by definite propositions and answers between one group and another, and though the effect is delightful, the principle is rendered a little obvious from the regularity of its occurrence. The second movement is specially noticeable as reaching the strongest pitch of sentiment as yet shown in an orchestral slow movement. In the earliest symphonies these movements were nearly always remarkably short, and scored for fewer instruments than the first and last. Frequently they were little better than 'intermezzi,' attached on both sides to the more important allegros. Even Mozart's and Haydn's latest examples had more grace and sweetness than deep feeling, and frequently showed a tendency to formalism in the expression of the ideas and in the ways in which the ornamental fiorituri were introduced. In the Eroica the name 'Marcia funebre' at once defines the object; and though the form of a march is to a certain extent maintained, it is obvious that it is of secondary importance, since the attention is more drawn to the rich and noble expression of the finest feelings of humanity over the poetically imagined death of one of the world's heroes, than to the traditional march form. The music seems in fact to take almost the definiteness of speech of the highest order; or rather, to express the emotions which belong to the imagined situation with more fulness and comprehensiveness, but with scarcely less definiteness, than speech could achieve. In the third movement appears the first of Beethoven's large orchestral scherzos. Any connection between it and the typical Minuet and Trio it is hard to see. The time is quicker and more bustling; and the character utterly distinct from the suave grace and somewhat measured paces of most of the previous third movements. The main points of connection with them are firstly the general outlines of form (that is, the principal portion of the Scherzo corresponding to the Minuet comes first and last, and the Trio in the middle) and secondly the humorous element. In this latter particular there is very great difference between the naïf and spontaneous fun of Haydn and the grim humour of Beethoven, sometimes verging upon irony, and sometimes, with evident purpose, upon the grotesque. The scherzo of the Eroica is not alloyed with so much grimness as some later ones, but it has traits of melancholy and seriousness here and there. The effect in its place is chiefly that of pourtraying the fickle crowd who soon forget their hero, and chatter and bustle cheerfully about their business or pleasure as before; which has its humorous or at least laughter-making ironical side to any one large-minded enough to avoid thinking of all such traits of humanity with reprobation and disgust. The last movement is on a scale more than equal to that of all the others, and, like them, strikes an almost entirely new note in symphonic finales. The light and simple character of Haydn's final rondos is familiar to every one; and he was consistent in aiming at gaiety for conclusion. Mozart in most cases did the same; but in the G minor Symphony there is a touch of rather vehement regretfulness, and in the C major of strength and seriousness. But the Finale of the Eroica first introduces qualities of massiveness and broad earnest dignity to that position in the symphony. The object is evidently to crown the work in a totally different sense from the light cheerful endings of most previous symphonies, and to appeal to fine feelings in the audience instead of aiming at putting them in a cheerful humour. It is all the difference between an audience before the revolutionary epoch and after. The starting-point of the movement is the same theme from the Prometheus music as that of the pianoforte variations in E♭ (op. 35). The basis of the whole movement is mainly the variation-form, interspersed with fugal episodes; and a remarkable feature is the long Andante variation immediately before the final Presto—a somewhat unusual feature in such a position, though Haydn introduced a long passage of Adagio in the middle of the last movement of a symphony in F written about 1777; but of course in a very different spirit. The Finale of the Eroica as a whole is so unusual in form, that it is not wonderful that opinions have varied much concerning it. As a piece of art it is neither so perfect nor so convincing as the other movements; but it has very noble and wonderful traits, and, as a grand experiment in an almost totally new direction, has a decided historical importance.
It is not necessary to go through the whole series of Beethoven's Symphonies in detail, for one reason because they are so generally familiar to musicians and are likely to become more and more so; and for another because they have been so fully discussed from different points of view in this Dictionary. Some short simple particulars about each may however be useful and interesting. The order of composition of the works which ​succeeded the Eroica Symphony is almost impossible to unravel. By opus-number the 4th Symphony, in B♭, comes very soon, being op. 60; but the sketches for the last movement are in the same sketch-book as parts of Fidelio, which is op. 72, and the Concerto in G, which is op. 58, was begun after Fidelio was finished. It can only be seen clearly that his works were crowded close together in this part of his life, and interest attaches to the fact that they represent the warmest and most popular group of all. Close to the B♭ Symphony come the Overture to 'Coriolan,' the three String Quartets, op. 59, the Violin Concerto, the PF. ditto in G major, the Symphony in C minor, and the 'Sinfonia Pastorale.' The B♭ is on a smaller scale than its predecessor, and of lighter and gayer cast. The opening bars of the Introduction are almost the only part which has a trace of sadness in it; and this is probably meant to throw the brightness of the rest of the work into stronger relief. Even the Slow Movement contains more serenity than deep emotion. The Scherzo is peculiar for having the Trio repeated—altogether a new point in symphony-writing, and one which was not left unrepeated or unimitated. What the symphony was meant to express cannot be known, but it certainly is as complete and consistent as any.
The C minor which followed has been said to be the first in which Beethoven expressed himself freely and absolutely, and threw away all traces of formalism in expression or development to give vent to the perfect utterance of his musical feeling. It certainly is so far the most forcible, and most remote from conventionalism of every kind. It was probably written very nearly about the same time as the B♭. Nottebohm says the first two movements were written in 1805; and, if this is the fact, his work on the B♭ and on the C minor must have overlapped. Nothing however could be much stronger than the contrast between the two. The C minor is, in the first and most striking movement, rugged, terrible in force; a sort of struggle with fate, one of the most thoroughly characteristic of Beethoven's productions. The second is a contrast; peaceful, though strong and earnest. The Scherzo again is one of his most original movements; in its musical spirit as utterly unlike anything that had been produced before as possible. Full of fancy, fun, and humour, and, notwithstanding the pauses and changes of time, wonderful in swing; and containing some devices of orchestration quite magical in their clearness, and their fitness to the ideas. The last movement, which follows without break after the Scherzo, is triumphant; seeming to express the mastery in the wrestling and striving of the first movement. It is historically interesting as the first appearance of trombones and contrafagotto in modern symphony; and the most powerful in sound up to that time. The next symphony, which is also the next opus-number, is the popular 'Pastoral,' probably written in 1808, the second of Beethoven's which has a definitely stated idea as the basis of its inspiration, and the first in which a programme is suggested for each individual movement; though Beethoven is careful to explain that it is 'mehr Empfindung als Malerei.' Any account of this happy inspiration is clearly superfluous. The situations and scenes which it brings to the mind are familiar, and not likely to be less beloved as the world grows older. The style is again in great contrast to that of the C minor, being characterised rather by serenity and contentment; which, as Beethoven had not heard of all the troubles of the land question, might naturally be his feelings about country life. He used two trombones in the last two movements, but otherwise contented himself with the same group of instruments as in his earliest symphonies.
After this there was a pause for some years, during which time appeared many noble and delightful works on other lines, including the pianoforte trios in D and E♭, the Mass in C minor, op. 86, the music to Egmont, op. 84, and several sonatas. Then in one year, 1812, two symphonies appeared. The first of the two, in A major, numbered op. 92, is looked upon by many as the most romantic of all of them; and certainly has qualities which increase in attractiveness the better it is known and understood. Among specially noticeable points are the unusual proportions and great interest of the Introduction (poco sostenuto); the singular and fascinating wilfulness of the first movement, which is enhanced by some very characteristic orchestration; the noble calm of the slow movement; the merry humour of the scherzo, which has again the same peculiarity as the 4th Symphony, that the trio is repeated (for which the world has every reason to be thankful, as it is one of the most completely enjoyable things in all symphonic literature); and finally the wild headlong abandonment of the last movement, which might be an idealised national or rather barbaric dance-movement, and which sets the crown fitly upon one of the most characteristic of Beethoven's works. The Symphony in F, which follows immediately as op. 93, is again of a totally different character. It is of specially small proportions, and has rather the character of a return to the old conditions of the Symphony, with all the advantages of Beethoven's mature powers both in the development and choice of ideas, and in the treatment of the orchestra. Beethoven himself, in a letter to Salomon, described it as 'eine kleine Symphonie in F,' as distinguished from the previous one, which he called 'Grosse Symphonie in A, eine meiner vorzüglichsten.' It has more fun and light-heartedness in it than any of the others, but no other specially distinctive external characteristics, except the substitution of the graceful and humorous 'Allegretto scherzando' in the place of the slow movement, and a return to the Tempo di Menuetto for the scherzo. After this came again a long pause, as the greatest of all symphonies did not make its appearance till 1824. During that time however, it is probable that symphonic work was not out of his mind, for it is certain that the preparations for putting this symphony down on ​paper spread over several years. Of the introduction of voices into this form of composition, which is its strongest external characteristic, Beethoven had made a previous experiment in the Choral Fantasia; and he himself spoke of the symphony as 'in the style of the Choral Fantasia, but on a far larger scale.' The scale is indeed immensely larger, not only in length but in style, and the increase in this respect applies to it equally in comparison with all the symphonies that went before. The first movement is throughout the most concentrated example of the qualities which distinguish Beethoven and the new phase upon which music entered with him, from all the composers of the previous half century. The other movements are not less characteristic of him in their particular ways. The second is the largest example of the typical scherzo which first made its appearance for the orchestra in the Eroica; and the supreme slow movement (the Theme with variations) is the finest orchestral example of that special type of slow movement; though in other departments of art he had previously illustrated it in a manner little less noble and deeply expressive in the slow movements of the B♭ Trio and the B♭ Sonata (op. 106). These movements all have reference, more or less intelligible according to the organisation and sympathies of the hearer, to the Finale of the Symphony, which consists of a setting of Schiller's ode 'An die Freude.' Its development into such enormous proportions is of a piece with the tendency shown in Beethoven's previous symphonies, and in some of his sonatas also, to supplant the conventional type of gay last movement by something which shall be a logical or poetical outcome of the preceding movements, and shall in some way clench them, or crown them with its weight and power. The introduction of words moreover gives a new force to the definite interpretation of the whole as a single organism, developed as a poem might be in relation to definite and coherent ideas. The dramatic and human elements which Beethoven introduced into his instrumental music to a degree before undreamed of, find here their fullest expression; and most of the forms of music are called in to convey his ideas. The first movement of the symphony is in binary form; the second in scherzo, or idealised minuet and trio form; the third in the form of theme and variations. Then follows the curious passage of instrumental recitative, of which so many people guessed the meaning even before it was defined by the publication of the extracts from the MS. sketch-books in the Berlin Library; then the entry of the noble tune, the theme of the entire Finale, introduced contrapuntally in a manner which has a clear analogy to fugal treatment; and followed by the choral part, which treats the theme in the form of variations apportioned to the several verses of the poem, and carries the sentiment to the extremest pitch of exultation expressible by the human voice. The instrumental forces employed are the fullest; including, with the usual complement, four horns, three trombones in the scherzo and finale, and contrafagotto, triangle, cymbals, and big drum in the finale. The choral forces include four solo voices and full chorus, and the sentiment expressed is proportionate to the forces employed.
In Beethoven's hands the Symphony has again undergone a change of status. Haydn and Mozart, as above pointed out, ennobled and enriched the form in the structural sense. They took up the work when there was little more expected of the orchestra than would have been expected of a harpsichord, and when the object of the piece was slight and almost momentary entertainment. They left it one of the most important branches of instrumental music, though still to a great extent dependent on formal perfection and somewhat obvious artistic management for its interest. Their office was in fact to perfect the form, and Beethoven's to use it. But the very use of it brought about a new ratio between its various elements. In his work first clearly appears a proportion between the forces employed and the nobility and depth and general importance of the musical ideas. In his hands the greatest and most pliable means available for the composer could be no longer fit for lightness and triviality, but only for ideal emotions of an adequate standard. It is true that earlier composers saw the advantage of adopting a breadth of style and largeness of sentiment when writing for the orchestra; but this mostly resulted in positive dullness. It seems as if it could only be when the circumstances of history had undergone a violent change that human sentiment could reach that pitch of comprehensiveness which in Beethoven's work raised the Symphony to the highest pitch of earnest poetic feeling: and the history of his development is chiefly the coordination of all the component elements; the proportioning of the expression and style to the means; the expansion of the form to the requirements of the expression; the making of the orchestration perfectly free, but perfectly just in every detail of expression, and perfectly balanced in itself; and the eradication of all traces of conventionalism both in the details and in the principal outlines, and also to a great extent in the treatment of the instruments. It is chiefly through Beethoven's work that the symphony now stands at the head of all musical forms whatever; and though other composers may hereafter misuse and degrade it as they have degraded the opera, the cantata, the oratorio, the mass, and such other forms as have equal possibilities with the symphony, his works of this kind stand at such an elevation of human sympathy and emotion, and at such a pitch of individuality and power, in expression and technical mastery, that it is scarcely likely that any branch of musical art will ever show anything to surpass them.
It might seem almost superfluous to trace the history of Symphony further after Beethoven. Nothing since his time has shown, nor in the changing conditions of the history of the race is it likely anything should show, any approach to the vitality and depth of his work. But it ​is just these changing conditions that leave a little opening for composers to tread the same path with him. In the millions of the human species there are endless varieties of mental and emotional qualities grouped in different individuals, and different bands or sets of men; and the many-sided qualities of artistic work, even far below the highest standard, find their excuse and explanation in the various groups and types of mind whose artistic desires they satisfy. Those who are most highly organised in such respects find their most perfect and most sustained gratification in Beethoven's works; but others who feel less deeply, or are less wide in their sympathies, or have fewer or different opportunities of cultivating their tastes in such a musical direction, need musical food more in accordance with their mental and emotional organisation. Moreover, there is always room to treat an accepted form in the mode characteristic of the period. Beethoven's period was much more like ours than that of Haydn and Mozart, but yet it is not so like that a work expressed entirely in his manner would not be an anachronism. Each successive generation takes some colour from the combination of work and changes in all previous generations; in unequal quantities proportioned to its amount of sympathy with particular periods. By the side of Beethoven there were other composers, working either on parallel lines or in a different manner on the same lines. The succeeding generations were influenced by them as well as by him; and they have introduced some elements into symphony which are at least not prominent in his. One of the contemporary composers who had most influence on the later generation was Weber; but his influence is derived from other departments, and in that of Symphony his contribution is next to nothing—two only, so slight and unimportant, as probably to have had no influence at all.
Another composer's symphonies did not have much immediate influence, chiefly because they were not performed; what they will have in the future remains to be seen. In delightfulness, Schubert's two best works in this department stand almost alone; and their qualities are unique. In his earlier works of the kind there is an analogy to Beethoven's early works. Writing for the orchestra seemed to paralyse his particular individuality; and for some time after he had written some of his finest and most original songs, he continued to write symphonies, which were chiefly a mild reflex of Haydn and Mozart, or at most of the early style of Beethoven. His first attempt was made in 1813, the last page being dated October 28 of that year, when he was yet only sixteen years old—one year after Beethoven's Symphonies in A and F, and more than ten years before the great D minor. In the five following years he wrote five more, the best of which is No. 4, the Tragic, in C minor; the Andante especially being very fine and interesting, and containing many characteristic traits of the master. But none of the early works approach in interest or original beauty to the unfinished one in B minor, and the very long and vigorous one in C major; the first composed in 1822, before Beethoven's No. 9, and the second in 1828, after it. In these two he seems to have struck out a real independent symphony-style for himself, thoroughly individual in every respect, both of idea, form, and orchestration. They show singularly little of the influence of Beethoven, or Mozart, or Haydn, or any of the composers he must have been familiar with in his early days at the Konvict; but the same spirit as is met with in his songs and pianoforte pieces, and the best specimens of his chamber music. The first movement of the B minor is entirely unlike any other symphonic first movement that ever was composed before. It seems to come direct from the heart, and to have the personality of the composer in it to a most unusual degree. The orchestral forces used are the usual ones, but in the management of them there are numbers of effects which are perfectly new in this department of art, indicating the tendency of the time towards direct consideration of what is called 'colour' in orchestral combinations, and its employment with the view of enhancing the degree of actual sensuous enjoyment of a refined kind, to some extent independent of the subjects and figures. Schubert's mature orchestral works are however too few to give any strong indication of this in his own person; and what is commonly felt is the supreme attractiveness of the ideas and general style. As classical models of form none of Schubert's instrumental works take the highest rank; and it follows that no compositions by any writer which have taken such hold upon the musicians of the present time, depend so much upon their intrinsic musical qualities as his do. They are therefore in a sense the extremest examples that can be given of the degree in which the status of such music altered in about thirty years. In the epoch of Mozart and Haydn, the formal elements absolutely predominated in importance. This was the case in 1795. The balance was so completely altered in the course of Beethoven's lifetime, that by 1824 the phenomenon is presented of works in the highest line of musical composition depending on the predominating element of the actual musical sentiment. It must be confessed that Schubert's position in art is unique; but at the same time no man of mark can be quite unrepresentative of his time, and Schubert in this way represents the extraordinary degree in which the attention of musical people and the intention of composers in the early years of the present century was directed to the actual material of music in its expressive sense, as distinguished from the external or structural aspect.
The relation of the dates at which more or less well-known symphonies made their appearance about this time is curious and not uninstructive. Mendelssohn's Reformation Symphony was ​produced only two years after Schubert's great Symphony in C, namely in 1830. His Italian Symphony followed in the next year; and Sterndale Bennett's in G minor, in 1834.
The dates and history of Spohr's productions are even more striking, as he was actually a contemporary of Beethoven's, and senior to Schubert, while in all respects in which his style is characteristic it represents quite a later generation. His first Symphony (in E♭) was composed in 1811, before Beethoven's 7th, 8th, and 9th, and when he himself was 27 years old. This was followed by several others, which are not without merit, though not of sufficient historical importance to require special consideration. The symphony of his which is best known at the present day is that called the 'Weihe der Töne,' which at one time enjoyed great celebrity. The history of this work is as follows. He intended first to set a poem of the same name by his friend Pfeiffer. He began the setting in 1832, but finding it unsatisfactory he abandoned the idea of using the words except as a programme; in which form they are appended to the score. The full description and purpose of the work as expressed on the title is 'Characteristisches Tongemälde in Form einer Sinfonie, nach einen Gedicht von Carl Pfeiffer'; and a printed notice from the composer is appended to the score directing that the poem is to be either printed or recited aloud whenever the symphony is to be performed. Each movement also has its title, like the Pastoral of Beethoven; but it differs from that work not only in its less substantial interest, but also in a much more marked departure from the ordinary principles of form, and the style of the successive movements.
The earlier part of the work corresponds fairly well with the usual principles of structure. It opens with a short Largo of vague character, passing into the Allegro, which is a continuous movement of the usual description, in a sweet, but rather tame style. The next movement might be taken to stand for the usual slow movement, as it begins Andantino; but the development is original, as it is broken up by several changes of tempo and time-signatures, and is evidently based upon a programme, for which its title supplies an explanation. The next movement again might be taken as an alternative to the Minuet and Trio, being marked 'Tempo di Marcia,' which would suggest the same general outline of form. But the development is again independent, and must be supposed to follow its title. From this point all connection with the usual outlines ceases. There is an Andante maestoso, based upon an Ambrosianischer Lobgesang [App. p.798 "for an Ambrosianischer Lobgesang read the Te Deum"], a Larghetto containing a second hymn-tune, and a short Allegretto in simple primary form to conclude with. From this description it will be obvious that the work is an example of thoroughgoing 'programme music.' It is clearly based rather on the musical portrayal of a succession of ideas in themselves independent of music, than upon the treatment of principles of abstract form, and ideas intrinsically musical. It derives from this fact a historical importance which its musical qualities taken alone would not warrant, as it is one of the very first German examples of its kind possessing any high artistic excellences of treatment, expression, and orchestration. It contains a plentiful supply of Spohr's characteristic faults, and is for the most part superficial, and deficient in warmth of feeling and nobility of thought; but it has also a fair share of his good traits—delicacy and clearness of orchestration, and a certain amount of poetical sentiment. Its success was considerable, and this, rather than any abstract theorising upon the tendencies of modern music, led him to several further experiments in the same line. The symphony (in C minor) which followed the 'Weihe der Töne' was on the old lines, and does not require much notice. It contains experiments in unifying the work by unusual references to subjects, as in the first movement, where conspicuous reference is made in the middle part of the Allegro to the characteristic feature of the slow introduction; and in the last, where the same subject is somewhat transformed, and reappears in a different time as a prominent feature of the second section. In the next symphony, and in the 7th and 9th, Spohr again tried experiments in programme. Two of these are such curiosities as to deserve description. The 6th, op. 116, in G, is called 'Historische Symphonie,' and the four movements are supposed to be illustrations of four distinct musical periods. The first is called the Period of Handel and Bach, and dated 1720; the second, the Period of Haydn and Mozart, and dated 1780 (i.e. before any of the greatest instrumental works of either Haydn or Mozart were produced); the third is the Period of Beethoven, and dated 1810; and the fourth, 'Allerneueste Periode,' and dated 1840. This last title seems to imply that Spohr regarded himself as belonging to a different generation from Beethoven. The first period is represented by an introductory Largo in contrapuntal style, and an Allegro movement, part after the manner of the old Canzonas, and part a Pastorale, introduced for contrast. The style has scarcely the least affinity to Bach, but the Handelian character is extremely easy to imitate, and hence in some respects it justifies its title fairly well. The slow movement which follows has good qualities and graceful points. It has more the flavour of Mozart than Haydn, and this is enhanced by the Mozartian turns and figures which are introduced. One which is very conspicuous is the short figure:—
which is found in several places in Mozart's works. The second subject moreover is only an ingenious alteration of the second subject in the slow movement of Mozart's Prague Symphony in D:—
Nevertheless, the whole effect of the movement is not what its title implies. The scoring is fuller, and the inner parts richer and freer in their motion than in the prototypes, and the harmonization is more chromatic, after Spohr's manner. The Scherzo professes to be in Beethoven's style, and some of his characteristic devices of harmony and rhythm and treatment of instruments are fairly well imitated (e.g. the drums in G, D, and E♭), though in a manner which shows they were but half understood. Curiously enough, one of the most marked figures does not come from Beethoven, but from Mozart's G minor Symphony:—
The last movement, representing the then 'latest period,' has of course no names appended. Spohr probably did not intend to imitate any one, but was satisfied to write in his own manner, of which the movement is not a highly satisfactory example. It is perhaps rather to the composer's credit that his own characteristics should peep out at all corners in all the movements, but the result can hardly be called an artistic success. However, the experiment deserves to be recorded and described, as unique among works by composers of such standing and ability as Spohr; and the more so as it is not likely to be often heard in future. His next Symphony (No. 7, in C major, op. 121) is in many respects as great a curiosity of a totally different description. It is called 'Irdisches und Göttliches in Menschenleben,' and is a double symphony in three movements for two orchestras. The first movement is called 'Kinderwelt,' the second 'Zeit der Leidenschaften,' and the last (Presto) 'Endlicher Sieg des Göttlichen.' In the first two the second orchestra, which is the fuller of the two, is little more than an accompaniment to the first. In the last it has a good deal of work to do, uttering chiefly vehement and bustling passages in contrast with quiet and sober passages by the first orchestra; until near the end, when it appears to be subdued into consonance with the first orchestra. The idea seems to be to depict the divine and the worldly qualities more or less by the two orchestras; the divine being given to the smaller orchestra of solo instruments, and the worldly to the fuller orchestra. The treatment of the instrumental forces is on the whole very simple; and no very extraordinary effects seem to be aimed at.
Spohr wrote yet another programme symphony after this (No. 9, in B, op. 143) called 'Die Jahreszeiten,' in which Winter and Spring are joined to make Part I, and Summer and Autumn to make Part II. The work approaches more nearly to the ordinary outlines of the Symphony than his previous experiments in programme, and does not seem to demand so much detailed description. In fact, but for his having been so early in the field as a writer of thoroughgoing programme-music, Spohr's position in the history of the Symphony would not be an important one; and it is worthy of remark that his being so at all appears to have been an accident. The 'Weihe der Töne' would not have been a programme symphony but for the fact that Pfeiffer's poem did not turn out to be very suitable for a musical setting. It is not likely that the work would have attained such popularity as it did but for its programme; but after so good a result in relation to the public, it was natural that Spohr should try further experiments on the same lines; and hence he became one of the earliest representatives of artistic speculation in a direction which has become one of the most conspicuous subjects of discussion among modern musical philosophers. As far as intrinsic qualities are concerned it is remarkable how very little influence he has had upon the subsequent history of the Symphony, considering the reputation he enjoyed in his life-time. His greatest excellence was his treatment of his orchestra, which was delicate, refined, and extremely clear; but it must be confessed that he erred on the side natural to the virtuoso violinist, and was too fond of bringing his first violins into prominence. His ideas and style generally were not robust or noble enough to stand the test of time. His melodies are not broad or strong; his harmonisation, though very chromatic to look at, is not radically free and vigorous; and his rhythm, though sometimes complicated and ingenious, is neither forcible nor rich in variety. None of his works however can be said to be without their good points, and the singularity of his attempts at programme-music give them an interest which the unlikelihood of many performances in the future does not by any means diminish.
An interesting fact in connection with Spohr and the history of the Symphony is that he seems to have been the first to conduct an orchestra in England with a baton; the practice having previously been to conduct 'at the pianoforte.' The occasion was one of the Philharmonic Concerts in 1820. The habit of conducting at the pianoforte was evidently a tradition continued from the days when the Symphony was an appendage of the Opera, when the principal authority, often the composer in person, sat at the principal clavier in the middle of the orchestra giving the time at his instrument, and filling in the harmonies under the guidance of a figured bass. Almost all the earlier independent symphonies, including those of Philip Emanuel Bach of 1776, and some of Haydn's earlier ones, have such a figured bass for the clavier player, and an extra bass part is commonly found in the sets of parts, which may be reasonably surmised to be for his use. The practice was at last ​abrogated in England by Spohr, possibly because he was not a clavier but a violin player. In Germany it was evidently discontinued some time earlier.
The most distinguished composers of symphonies who wrote at the same time as Spohr, were entirely independent of him. The first of these is Mendelssohn, whose earliest symphonies even overlap Beethoven, and whose better-known works of the kind, as before mentioned, begin about the same time as Spohr's best examples, and extend over nearly the same period as his later ones. The earliest which survives in print is that in C minor dedicated to the London Philharmonic Society. This work was really his thirteenth symphony, and was finished on March 31, 1824, when he was only fifteen years old, in the very year that Beethoven's Choral Symphony was first performed. The work is more historically than musically interesting. It shows, as might be expected, how much stronger the mechanical side of Mendelssohn's artistic nature was, even as a boy, than his poetical side. Technically the work is extraordinarily mature. It evinces not only a perfect and complete facility in laying the outline and carrying out the details of form, but also the acutest sense of the balance and proportion of tone of the orchestra. The limits of the attempt are not extensive, and the absence of strong feeling or aspiration in the boy facilitated the execution. The predominant influence is clearly that of Mozart. Not only the treatment of the lower and subordinate parts of the harmony, but the distribution and management of the different sections and even the ideas are like. There is scarcely a trace of the influence of Beethoven, and not much of the features afterwards characteristic of the composer himself. The most individual movements are the slow movement and the trio. The former is tolerably free from the influence of the artificial and mannered slow movements of the Haydn and Mozart style, and at the same time does not derive its inspiration from Beethoven: it contains some very free experiments in modulation, enharmonic and otherwise, a few characteristic figures similar to some which he made use of later in his career, and passages of melody clearly predicting the composer of the Lieder ohne Worte and the short slow-movements of the organ sonatas. The Trio is long and very original in intention, the chief feature being ingenious treatment of arpeggios for the strings in many parts. The other movements are for the most part formal. The Minuet is extraordinarily like that of Mozart's G minor Symphony, not only in accent and style, but in the manner in which the strings and the wind are grouped and balanced, especially in the short passage for wind alone which occurs towards the end of each half of the movement. It was possibly owing to this circumstance that Mendelssohn substituted for it the orchestral arrangement of the Scherzo of his Octet when the work was performed later in his life. In the last movement the most characteristic passage is the second subject, with the short chords of pizzicato strings, and the tune for the clarinet which comes after the completion of the first period by strings alone. He used the same device more than once later, and managed it more satisfactorily. But it is just such suggestions of the working of the musical spirit in the man which make an early work interesting.
His next symphony happened to illustrate the supposed tendency of the age towards programme. It was intended for the tercentenary festival of the Augsburg Protestant Confession in 1830, though owing to political circumstances its performance was deferred till later. He evidently had not made up his mind what to call it till some time after it was finished, as he wrote to his sister and suggested Confession Symphony, or Symphony for a Church Festival, as alternative names. But it is quite evident nevertheless that he must have had some sort of programme in his mind, and a purpose to illustrate the conflict between the old and new forms of the faith, and the circumstances and attributes which belonged to them. The actual form of the work is as nearly as possible what is called perfectly orthodox. The slow introduction, the regular legitimate allegro, the simple pretty scherzo and trio, the short but completely balanced slow movement, and the regular last movement preceded by a second slow introduction, present very little that is out of the way in point of structure; and hence the work is less dependent upon its programme than some of the examples by Spohr above described. But nevertheless the programme can be clearly seen to have suggested much of the detail of treatment and development in a perfectly consistent and natural manner. The external traits which obviously strike attention are two; first, the now well-known passage which is used in the Catholic Church at Dresden for the Amen, and which Wagner has since adopted as one of the most conspicuous religious motives of the Parsifal; and secondly, the use of Luther's famous hymn, 'Ein' feste Burg,' in the latter part of the work. The Amen makes its appearance in the latter part of the opening Andante, and is clearly meant to typify the old church; and its recurrence at the end of the working out in the first movement, before the recapitulation, is possibly meant to imply that the old church still holds its own: while in the latter portion of the work the typical hymn-tune, introduced softly by the flute and by degrees taking possession of the whole orchestra, may be taken to represent the successful spread of the Protestant ideas, just as its final utterance fortissimo at the end of all, does the establishment of men's right to work out their own salvation in their own way. There are various other details which clearly have purpose in relation to the programme, and show clearly that the composer was keeping the possible succession of events and circumstances in his mind throughout. The actual treatment is a very considerable advance upon the Symphony in C minor. The whole work is thoroughly Mendelssohnian. There is no ​obvious trace either in the ideas themselves, or in the manner of expression of the Mozartian influence which is so noticeable in the symphony of six years earlier. And considering that the composer was still but 21, the maturity of style and judgment is relatively quite as remarkable as the facility and mastery shown in the work of his 15th year. The orchestration is quite characteristic and free; and in some cases, as in part of the second movement, singularly happy. The principle of programme here assumed seems to have been maintained by him thenceforward; for his other symphonies, though it is not so stated in the published scores, are known to have been recognised by him as the results of his impressions of Italy and Scotland. The first of them followed very soon after the Reformation Symphony. In the next year after the completion of that work he mentioned the new symphony in a letter to his sister as far advanced; and said it was 'the gayest thing he had ever done.' He was in Rome at the time, and it appears most probable that the first and last movements were written there. Of the slow movement he wrote that he had not found anything exactly right, 'and would put it off till he went to Naples, hoping to find something to inspire him there.' But in the result it is difficult to imagine that Naples can have had much share. Of the third movement there is a tradition that it was imported from an earlier work; and it certainly has a considerable flavour of Mozart, though coupled with traits characteristic of Mendelssohn in perfect maturity, and is at least well worthy of its position; and even if parts of it, as is possible, appeared in an earlier work, the excellences of the Trio, and the admirable effect of the final Coda which is based on it, point to considerable rewriting and reconstruction at a mature period. The actual structure of the movements is based upon familiar principles, though not without certain idiosyncrasies: as for instance the appearance of a new prominent feature in the working-out portion, and the freedom of the recapitulation in the first movement. In the last movement, called Saltarello, he seems to have given a more free rein to his fancy in portraying some scene of unconstrained Italian gaiety to which he was a witness; and though there is an underlying consistency in the usual distribution of keys, the external balance of subjects is not so obvious. The last movement is hence the only one which seems to depend to any extent upon the programme idea; in all other respects the symphony belongs to the 'classical' order. Indeed such a programme as the purpose to reproduce impressions of particular countries is far too vague to lend itself to exact and definite musical portrayal of external ideas, such as might take the place of the usual outlines of structure. In fact it could lead to little more than consistency of style, which would be equally helpful to the composer and the audience; and it may well have served as an excuse for a certain laxity and profusion in the succession of the ideas, instead of that difficult process of concentrating and making relevant the whole of each movement upon the basis of a few definite and typical subjects. The characteristics of the work are for the most part fresh and genial spontaneity. The scoring is of course admirable and clear, without presenting any very marked features; and it is at the same time independent and well proportioned in distribution of the various qualities of sound, and in fitness to the subject matter.
In orchestral effects the later symphony—the Scotch, in A minor—is more remarkable. The impressions which Mendelssohn received in Scotland may naturally have suggested more striking points of local colour; and the manner in which it is distributed from first page to last serves to very good purpose in unifying the impression of the whole. The effects are almost invariably obtained either by using close harmonies low in the scale of the respective instruments, or by extensively doubling tunes and figures in a similar manner, and in a sombre part of the scale of the instruments; giving an effect of heaviness and darkness which were possibly Mendelssohn's principal feelings about the grandeur and uncertain climate of Scotland. Thus in the opening phrase for wind instruments they are crowded in the harmonies almost as thick as they will endure. In the statement of the first principal subject again the clarinet in its darkest region doubles the tune of the violins an octave lower. The use of the whole mass of the strings in three octaves, with the wind filling the harmonies in rhythmic chords, which has so fine and striking an effect at the beginning of the 'working out' and in the coda, has the same basis: and the same effect is obtained by similar means here and there in the Scherzo; as for instance where the slightly transformed version of the principal subject is introduced by the wind in the Coda. The same qualities are frequently noticeable in the Slow movement and again in the coda of the last movement. As in the previous symphony, the structure is quite in accordance with familiar principles. If anything, the work errs rather on the side of squareness and obviousness in the outlines both of ideas and structure; as may be readily perceived by comparing the construction of the opening tune of the introduction with any of Beethoven's introductions (either that of the D or B♭ or A Symphonies, or his overtures): or even the introduction to Mozart's Prague Symphony. And the impression is not lessened by the obviousness of the manner in which the succeeding recitative passages for violins are introduced; nor by the squareness and tune-like qualities of the first subject of the first movement, nor by the way in which the square tune pattern of the scherzo is reiterated. In the manipulation of the familiar distribution of periods and phrases, however, he used a certain amount of consideration. For example, the persistence of the rhythmic figure of the first subject of the first allegro, ​in the inner parts of the second section of that movement, serves very good purpose; and the concluding of the movement with the melancholy tune of the introduction helps both the sentiment and the structural effect. The scherzo is far the best and most characteristic movement of the whole. In no department of his work was Mendelssohn so thoroughly at home; and the obviousness of the formal outlines is less objectionable in a movement where levity and abandonment to gaiety are quite the order of the day. The present scherzo has also certain very definite individualities of its own. It is a departure from the 'Minuet and Trio' form, as it has no break or strong contrasting portion in the middle, and is continuous bustle and gaiety from beginning to end. In technical details it is also exceptionally admirable. The orchestral means are perfectly suited to the end, and the utterances are as neat and effective as they could well be; while the perfect way in which the movement finishes off is delightful to almost every one who has any sense for art. The slow movement takes up the sentimental side of the matter, and is in its way a good example of his orchestral style in that respect. The last movement, Allegro vivacissimo, is restless and impetuous, and the tempo-mark given for it in the Preface to the work, 'Allegro guerriero,' affords a clue to its meaning. But it evidently does not vitally depend upon any ideal programme in the least; neither does it directly suggest much, except in the curious independent passage with which it concludes, which has more of the savour of programme about it than any other portion of the work, and is scarcely explicable on any other ground. It is to be noticed that directions are given at the beginning of the work to have the movements played as quickly as possible after one another, so that it may have more or less the effect of being one piece. Mendelssohn's only other symphonic work was the Lobgesang, a sort of ecclesiastical counterpart of Beethoven's 9th Symphony. In this of course the programme element is important, and is illustrated by the calls of the brass instruments and their reiteration with much effect in the choral part of the work. The external form, as in Beethoven's 9th Symphony, is that of the three usual earlier movements (1) Introduction and Allegro, (2) Scherzo, or Minuet and Trio, and (3) Slow Movement (which in the present case have purposely a pietistic flavour), with the Finale or last movement supplanted by the long vocal part.
The consideration of these works shows that though Mendelssohn often adopted the appearance of programme, and gained some advantages by it, he never, in order to express his external ideas with more poetical consistency, relaxed any of the familiar principles of structure which are regarded as orthodox. He was in fact a thoroughgoing classicist. He accepted formulas with perfect equanimity, and aimed at resting the value of his works upon the vivacity of his ideas and the great mastery which he had attained in technical expression, and clearness and certainty of orchestration. It was not in his disposition to strike out a new path for himself. The perfection of his art in many respects necessarily appeals to all who have an appreciation for first-rate craftsmanship; but the standard of his ideas is rather fitted for average musical intelligences, and it seems natural enough that these two circumstances should have combined successfully to attain for him an extraordinary popularity. He may fairly be said to present that which appeals to high and pure sentiments in men, and calls upon the average of them to feel at their best. But he leads them neither into the depths nor the heights which are beyond them; and is hence more fitted in the end to please than to elevate. His work in the department of Symphony is historically slight. In comparison to his great predecessors he established positively nothing new; and if he had been the only successor to Beethoven and Schubert it would certainly have to be confessed that the department of art represented by the Symphony was at a standstill. The excellence of his orchestration, the clearness of his form, and the accuracy and cleverness with which he balanced and disposed his subjects and his modulations, are all certain and unmistakeable; but all these things had been attained by great masters before him, and he himself attained them only by the sacrifice of the genuine vital force and power of harmonic motion and freedom of form in the ideas themselves, of which his predecessors had made a richer manifestation. It is of course obvious that different orders of minds require different kinds of artistic food, and the world would not be well served without many grades and standards of work. Mendelssohn did good service in supplying a form of symphony of such a degree of freshness and lightness as to appeal at once to a class of people for whom the sternness and power of Beethoven in the same branch of art would often be too severe a test. He spoke also in the spirit of his time, and in harmony with it; and as illustrations of the work of the period in one aspect his symphonies will be among the safest to refer to.
Among his contemporaries the one most natural to bracket with him is Sterndale Bennett, whose views of art were extraordinarily similar, and who was actuated in many respects by similar impulses. His published contribution to the department we are considering is extremely slight. The symphony which he produced in 1834 was practically withdrawn by him, and the only other work of the kind which he allowed to be published was the one which was written for the Philharmonic Society, and first played in 1864. The work is slight, and it is recorded that he did not at first put it forward as a symphony. It had originally but three movements, one of which, the charming minuet and trio, was imported from the Cambridge Installation Ode of 1862. A slow movement called Romanze was added afterwards. Sterndale Bennett was a severe classicist in his views about form in music, and ​the present symphony does not show anything sufficiently marked to call for record in that respect. It is singularly quiet and unpretentious, and characteristic of the composer, showing his taste and delicacy of sentiment together with his admirable sense of symmetry and his feeling for tone and refined orchestral effect.
The contemporary of Mendelssohn and Sterndale Bennett who shows in most marked contrast with them is Robert Schumann. He seems to represent the opposite pole of music; for as they depended upon art and made clear technical workmanship their highest aim, Schumann was in many respects positively dependent upon his emotion. Not only was his natural disposition utterly different from theirs, but so was his education. Mendelssohn and Sterndale Bennett went through severe technical drilling in their early days. Schumann seems to have developed his technique by the force of his feelings, and was always more dependent upon them in the making of his works than upon general principles and external stock rules, such as his two contemporaries were satisfied with. The case affords an excellent musical parallel to the common circumstances of life; Mendelssohn and Sterndale Bennett were satisfied to accept certain rules because they knew that they were generally accepted; whereas Schumann was of the nature that had to prove all things, and find for himself that which was good. The result was, as often happens, that Schumann affords examples of technical deficiencies, and not a few things which his contemporaries had reason to compare unfavourably with the works of Mendelssohn and Sterndale Bennett; but in the end his best work is far more interesting, and far more deeply felt, and far more really earnest through and through than theirs. It is worth observing also that his feelings towards them were disinterested admiration and enthusiasm, while they thought very slightly of him. They were also the successful composers of their time, and at the head of their profession, while he was looked upon as a sort of half amateur, part mystic and part incompetent. Such circumstances as these have no little effect upon a man's artistic development, and drive him in upon his own resources. Up to a certain point the result for the world in this instance was advantageous. Schumann developed altogether his own method of education. He began with songs and more or less small pianoforte pieces. By working hard in these departments he developed his own emotional language, and in course of time, but relatively late in life as compared with most other composers, he seemed to arrive at the point when experiment on the scale of the Symphony was possible. In a letter to a friend he expressed his feeling that the pianoforte was becoming too narrow for his thoughts, and that he must try orchestral composition. The fruit of this resolve was the B♭ Symphony (op. 38), which was produced at Leipzig in 1841, and was probably his first important orchestral work. It is quite extraordinary how successfully he grappled with the difficulties of the greatest style of composition at the first attempt. The manner is thoroughly symphonic, impressive and broad, and the ideas are more genuinely instrumental both in form and expression than Mendelssohn's, and far more incisive in detail, which in instrumental music is a most vital matter. Mendelssohn had great readiness for making a tune, and it is as clear as possible that when he went about to make a large instrumental work his first thought was to find a good tune to begin upon. Schumann seems to have aimed rather at a definite and strongly marked idea, and to have allowed it to govern the form of period or phrase in which it was presented. In this he was radically in accord with both Mozart and Beethoven. The former in his instrumental works very commonly made what is called the principal subject out of two distinct items, which seem contrasted externally in certain characteristics and yet are inevitable to one another. Beethoven frequently satisfied himself with one principal one, as in the first movements of the Eroica and the C minor; and even where there are two more or less distinct figures, they are joined very closely into one phrase, as in the Pastoral, the No. 8, and the first movement of the Choral. The first movement of Schumann's B♭ Symphony shows the same characteristic. The movement seems almost to depend upon the simple but very definite first figure—
which is given out in slow time in the Introduction, and worked up as by a mind pondering over its possibilities, finally breaking away with vigorous freshness and confidence in the 'Allegro molto Vivace.' The whole first section depends upon the development of this figure; and even the horns, which have the last utterances before the second subject appears, continue to repeat its rhythm with diminishing force. The second subject necessarily presents a different aspect altogether, and is in marked contrast to the first, but it similarly depends upon the clear character of the short figures of which it is composed, and its gradual work up from the quiet beginning to the loud climax, ends in the reappearance of the rhythmic form belonging to the principal figure of the movement. The whole of the working-out portion depends upon the same figure, which is presented in various aspects and with the addition of new features and ends in a climax which introduces the same figure in a slow form, very emphatically, corresponding to the statement in the Introduction. To this climax the recapitulation is duly welded on. The coda again makes the most of the same figure, in yet fresh aspects. The latter part is to all intents independent, apparently a sort of reflection on what has gone before, and is so far in definite contrast as to explain itself. The whole movement is direct ​and simple in style, and for Schumann, singularly bright and cheerful. The principles upon which he constructed and used his principal subjects in this movement are followed in the first movements of the other symphonies; most of all in the D minor; clearly in the C major; and least in the E♭, which belongs to the later period of his life. But even in this last he aims at gaining the same result, though by different means; and the subject is as free as any from the tune-qualities which destroy the complete individuality of an instrumental subject in its most perfect and positive sense. In the first movement of the D minor he even went so far as to make some important departures from the usual outlines of form, which are rendered possible chiefly by the manner in which he used the characteristic figure of his principal subject. It is first introduced softly in the latter part of the Introduction, and gains force quickly, so that in a few bars it breaks away in the vigorous and passionate allegro in the following form—
which varies in the course of the movement to
In one or other of these forms it continues almost ceaselessly throughout the whole movement, either as actual subject or accompaniment; in the second section it serves in the latter capacity. In the latter part of the working-out section a fresh subject of gentler character is introduced, seeming to stem and mitigate the vehemence expressed by the principal figures of the first subject: from the time this new subject makes its appearance there continues a sort of conflict between the two; the vehement subject constantly breaking in with apparently undiminished fire, and seeming at times to have the upper hand, till just at the end the major of the original key (D minor) is taken, and the more genial subject appears in a firm and more determined form, as if asserting its rights over the wild first subject; and thereupon, when the latter reappears, it is in a much more genial character, and its reiteration at the end of the movement gives the impression of the triumph of hope and trust in good, over the seeds of passion and despair. The result of the method upon which the movement is developed is to give the impression of both external and spiritual form. The requirements of key, modulation, and subject are fulfilled, though, from the point of view of classical orthodoxy, with unusual freedom. The spiritual form,—the expression in musical terms of a type of mental conflict, so depicted that thinking beings can perceive the sequence to be true of themselves—is also very prominent, and is the most important element in the work, as is the case in all Schumann's best works; moreover in this movement everything is strongly individual, and warm with real musical life in his own style; which was not altogether the case with the first movement of the B♭. In the C major Symphony (op. 61) the first allegro is ushered in by a slow introduction of important and striking character, containing, like those of the two just mentioned, anticipations of its principal figures. In the allegro the two principal subjects are extremely strong in character, and the consistent way in which the whole movement is developed upon the basis of their constituent figures, with allusions to those of the introduction, is most remarkable. Here again there is a sort of conflict between the principal ideas. The first subject is just stated twice (the second time with certain appropriate changes), and then a start is instantly made in the Dominant key, with new figures characteristic of the second section; transition is made to flat keys and back, and an allusion to the first subject ends the first half; but all is closely consistent, vigorous, and concise. The development portion is also most closely worked upon the principal subjects, which are treated, as it seems, exhaustively, presenting especially the figures of the second subject in all sorts of lights, and with freshness and warmth of imagination, and variety of tone and character. The recapitulation is preceded by allusions to the characteristic features of the introduction, considerably transformed, but still sufficiently recognisable to tell their tale. The coda is made by fresh treatment of the figures of the principal subjects in vigorous and brilliant development.
The Symphony in E♭ has no introduction, and Schumann seems to have aimed at getting his strong effects of subject in this case by means other than the vigorous and clear rhythmic forms which characterise the first movements of the earlier symphonies. The effect is obtained by syncopations and cross rhythms, which alternately obscure and strengthen the principal beats of the bar, and produce an effect of wild and passionate effort, which is certainly striking, though not so immediately intelligible as the rhythmic forms of the previous symphonies. The second subject is in strong contrast, having a more gentle and appealing character; but it is almost overwhelmed by the recurrence of the syncopations of the principal subject, which make their appearance with persistency in the second as in the first section, having in that respect a very clear poetical or spiritual meaning. The whole development of the movement is again consistent and impressive, though not so fresh as in the other symphonies. As a point characteristic of Schumann, the extreme conciseness of the first section of the first movement in the B♭, D minor, and C major Symphonies is to be noticed, as it bears strongly upon the cultivated judgment and intelligence which marks his treatment of this great instrumental form. The first half is treated almost as pure exposition; the working-out having logically the greater part of interesting development of the ideas. The recapitulation is generally free, and in the D minor Symphony is practically ​supplanted by novel methods of balancing the structure of the movement. The coda either presents new features, or takes fresh aspects of the principal ones, enhanced by new turns of modulation, and ending with the insistance on the primary harmonies of the principal key, which is necessary to the stability of the movement. In all these respects Schumann is a most worthy successor to Beethoven. He represents his intellectual side in the consistency with which he developes the whole movement from a few principal features, and the freshness and individuality with which he treats the form; and he shows plenty of the emotional and spiritual side in the passionate or tender qualities of his subjects, and the way in which they are distributed relatively to one another. Schumann's symphonic slow movements have also a distinctive character of their own. Though extremely concise, they are all at the same time rich and full of feeling. They are somewhat in the fashion of a 'Romanze,' that in the D Symphony being definitely so called; and their development depends rather upon an emotional than an intellectual basis; as it seems most just that a slow movement should. His object appears to have been to find some noble and aspiring strain of melody, and to contrast it with episodes of similar character, which carry on and bear upon the principal idea without diverting the chain of thought into a different channel. Hence the basis of the movements is radically lyrical; and this affords an important element of contrast to the first movement, in which there is always an antithetical element in the contrast of the two principal subjects. The romanze of the D Symphony is constructed on a different principle; the sections and musical material being strongly contrasted; this may be partly owing to the closeness of its connection with other parts of the symphony, as will be noticed further on. The scherzos, including that in the 'Overture Scherzo and Finale' (op. 52), have a family likeness to one another, though their outlines are different; they all illustrate a phase of musical and poetical development in their earnest character and the vein of sadness which pervades them. The light and graceful gaiety of most of the minuets of Haydn and Mozart is scarcely to be traced in them; but its place is taken by a certain wild rush of animal spirits, mixed up in a strange and picturesque way with expressions of tenderness and regret. These scherzos are in a sense unique; for though following in the same direction as Beethoven's in some respects, they have but little of his sense of fun and grotesque, while the vein of genuine melancholy which pervades them certainly finds no counterpart either in Spohr or Mendelssohn; and, if it may be traced in Schubert, it is still in comparison far less prominent. In fact Schumann's scherzos are specially curious and interesting, even apart from the ordinary standpoint of a musician, as illustrating a phase of the intellectual progress of the race. Schumann belonged to the order of men with large and at the same time delicate sympathies, whose disposition becomes so deeply impressed with the misfortunes and unsolvable difficulties which beset his own lot and that of his fellow men, that pure unmixed lightheartedness becomes almost impossible. The poetical and thoughtful side of his disposition, which supplied most vital ingredients to his music, was deeply tinged with sadness; and from this he was hardly ever entirely free. He could wear an aspect of cheerfulness, but the sadness was sure to peep out, and in this, among thoughtful and poetically disposed beings, he cannot be looked upon as singular. Hence the position of the Scherzo in modern instrumental music presents certain inevitable difficulties. The lively, almost childish, merriment of early examples cannot be attained without jarring upon the feelings of earnest men; at least in works on such a scale as the symphony, where the dignity and importance of the form inevitably produce a certain sense of responsibility to loftiness of purpose in the carrying out of the ideas. A movement corresponding to the old Scherzo in its relation to the other movements had to be formed upon far more complicated conditions. The essential point in which Schumann followed his predecessors was the definition of the balancing and contrasting sections. The outlines of certain groups of bars are nearly always very strongly marked, and the movement as a whole is based rather upon effects attainable by the juxtaposition of such contrasting sections than upon the continuous logical or emotional development which is found in the other movements. The structural outline of the old dance-forms is still recognisable in this respect, but the style and rhythm bear little trace of the dance origin; or at least the dance quality has been so far idealised as to apply rather to thought and feeling than to expressive rhythmic play of limbs. In Schumann's first Symphony the scherzo has some qualities of style which connect it with the minuets of earlier times, even of Mozart; but with these there are genuine characteristic traits of expression. In the later scherzos the poetical meaning seems more apparent. In fact the scherzo and the slow movement are linked together as the two sections of the work most closely representative of human emotion and circumstance; the first and last movements having more evident dependence upon what are called abstract qualities of form. In its structural outlines Schumann's Scherzo presents certain features. In the Symphonies in B♭ and C he adopts the device of two trios. Beethoven had repeated the trio in two symphonies (4th and 7th), and Schumann advanced in the same direction by writing a second trio instead of repeating the first, and by making the two trios contrast not only with the scherzo, but also with each other; and as a further result the trios stand centrally in relation to the first and last statement of the scherzo, while it in its turn stands centrally between them, and thus the whole structure of the movement gains in interest. It is worthy of note that the codas to all Schumann's scherzos are specially interesting and ​full; and some of them are singular in the fact that they form an independent little section conveying its own ideas apart from those of the principal subjects. His finales are less remarkable on general grounds, and on the whole less interesting than his other movements. The difficulty of conforming to the old type of light movements was even more severe for him than it was for Beethoven, and hence he was the more constrained to follow the example set by Beethoven of concluding with something weighty and forcible, which should make a fitting crown to the work in those respects, rather than on the principle of sending the audience away in a good humour. In the B♭ Symphony only does the last movement aim at gaiety and lightness; in the other three symphonies and the Overture, Scherzo, and Finale, the finales are all of the same type, with broad and simple subjects and strongly emphasised rhythms. The rondo form is only obscurely hinted at in one; in the others the development is very free, but based on binary form; and the style of expression and development is purposely devoid of elaboration.
Besides the points which have been already mentioned in the development of the individual movements, Schumann's work is conspicuous for his attempts to bind the whole together in various ways. Not only did he make the movements run into each other, but in several places he connects them by reproducing the ideas of one movement in others, and even by using the same important features in different guises as the essential basis of different movements. In the Symphony in C there are some interesting examples of this; but the Symphony in D is the most remarkable experiment of the kind yet produced, and may be taken as a fit type of the highest order. In the first place all the movements run into each other except the first and second; and even there the first movement is purposely so ended as to give a sense of incompleteness unless the next movement is proceeded with at once. The first subject of the first movement and the first of the last are connected by a strong characteristic figure, which is common to both of them. The persistent way in which this figure is used in the first movement has already been described. It is not maintained to the same extent in the last movement; but it makes a strong impression in its place there, partly by its appearing conspicuously in the accompaniment, and partly by the way it is led up to in the sort of intermezzo which connects the scherzo and the last movement, where it seems to be introduced at first as a sort of reminder of the beginning of the work, and as if suggesting the clue to its meaning and purpose; and is made to increase in force with each repetition till the start is made with the finale. In the same manner the introduction is connected with the slow movement or romanze, by the use of its musical material for the second division of that movement; and the figure which is most conspicuous in the middle of the romanze runs all through the trio of the succeeding movement. So that the series of movements are as it were interlaced by their subject-matter; and the result is that the whole gives the impression of a single and consistent musical poem. The way in which the subjects recur may suggest different explanations to different people, and hence it is dangerous to try and fix one in definite terms describing particular circumstances. But the important fact is that the work can be felt to represent in its entirety the history of a series of mental or emotional conditions such as may be grouped round one centre; in other words, the group of impressions which go to make the innermost core of a given story seems to be faithfully expressed in musical terms and in accordance with the laws which are indispensable to a work of art. The conflict of impulses and desires, the different phases of thought and emotion, and the triumph or failure of the different forces which seem to be represented, all give the impression of belonging to one personality, and of being perfectly consistent in their relation to one another; and by this means a very high example of all that most rightly belongs to programme music is presented. Schumann however wisely gave no definite clue to fix the story in terms. The original autograph has the title 'Symphonische Fantaisie für grosses Orchester, skizzirt im Jahre 1841; neu instrumentirt 1851.' In the published score it is called 'Symphony,' and numbered as the fourth, though it really came second. Schumann left several similar examples in other departments of instrumental music, but none so fully and carefully carried out. In the department of Symphony he never again made so elaborate an experiment. In his last, however, that in E♭, he avowedly worked on impressions which supplied him with something of a poetical basis, though he does not make use of characteristic figures and subjects to connect the movements with one another. The impressive fourth movement is one of the most singular in the range of symphonic music, and is meant to express the feelings produced in him by the ceremonial at the enthronement of a Cardinal in Cologne Cathedral. The last movement has been said to embody 'the bustle and flow of Rhenish holiday life, on coming out into the town after the conclusion of the ceremony in the Cathedral.' Of the intention of the scherzo nothing special is recorded, but the principal subject has much of the 'local colour' of the German national dances.
As a whole, Schumann's contributions to the department of Symphony are by far the most important since Beethoven. As a master of orchestration he is less certain than his fellows of equal standing. There are passages which rise to the highest points of beauty and effectiveness, as in the slow movement of the C major Symphony; and his aim to balance his end and his means was of the highest, and the way in which he works it out is original; but both the bent of his mind and his education inclined him to be occasionally less pellucid than his ​predecessors, and to give his instruments things to do which are not perfectly adapted to their idiosyncrasies. On the other hand, in vigour, richness, poetry and earnestness, as well as in the balance which he was able to maintain between originality and justness of art, his works stand at the highest point among the moderns whose work is done; and have had great and lasting effect upon his successors.
The advanced point to which the history of the Symphony has arrived is shown by the way in which composers have become divided into two camps, whose characteristics are most easily understood in their extremest representatives. The growing tendency to attach positive meaning to music, as music, has in course of time brought about a new position of affairs in the instrumental branch of art. We have already pointed out how the strict outlines of form in instrumental works came to be modified by the growing individuality of the subject. As long as subjects were produced upon very simple lines, which in most cases resembled one another in all but very trifling external particulars, there was no reason why the structure of the whole movement should grow either complex or individual. But as the subject (which stands in many cases as a sort of text) came to expand its harmonic outlines and to gain force and meaning, it reacted more and more upon the form of the whole movement; and at the same time the musical spirit of the whole, as distinguished from the technical aspects of structure, was concentrated and unified, and became more prominent as an important constituent of the artistic ensemble. In many cases, such as small movements of a lyrical character for single instruments, the so-called classical principles of form were almost lost sight of, and the movement was left to depend altogether upon the consistency of the musical expression throughout. Sometimes these movements had names suggesting more or less of a programme; but this was not by any means invariable or necessary. For in such cases as Chopin's Preludes, and some of Schumann's little movements, there is no programme given, and none required by the listener. The movement depends successfully upon the meaning which the music has sufficient character of its own to convey. In such cases the art form is still thoroughly pure, and depends upon the development of music as music. But in process of time a new position beyond this has been assumed. Supposing the subjects and figures of music to be capable of expressing something which is definite enough to be put into words, it is argued that the classical principles of structure may be altogether abandoned, even in their broadest outlines, and a new starting-point for instrumental music attained, on the principle of following the circumstances of a story, or the succession of emotions connected with a given idea, or the flow of thought suggested by the memory of a place or person or event of history, or some such means; and that this would serve as a basis of consistency and a means of unifying the whole, without the common resources of tonal or harmonic distribution. The story or event must be supposed to have impressed the composer deeply, and the reaction to be an outflow of music, expressing the poetical imaginings of the author better than words would do. In some senses this may still be pure art; where the musical idea has really sufficient vigour and vitality in itself to be appreciated without the help of the external excitement of the imagination which is attained by giving it a local habitation and a name. For then the musical idea may still have its full share in the development of the work, and may pervade it intrinsically as music, and not solely as representing a story or series of emotions which are, primarily, external to the music. But when the element of realism creeps in, or the ideas depend for their interest upon their connection with a given programme, the case is different. The test seems to lie in the attitude of mind of the composer. If the story or programme of any sort is merely a secondary matter which exerts a general influence upon the music, while the attention is concentrated upon the musical material itself and its legitimate artistic development, the advantages gained can hardly be questioned. The principle not only conforms to what is known of the practice of the greatest masters, but is on abstract grounds perfectly unassailable; on the other hand, if the programme is the primary element, upon which the mind of the composer is principally fixed, and by means of which the work attains a specious excuse for abnormal development, independent of the actual musical sequence of ideas, then the principle is open to question, and may lead to most unsatisfactory results. The greatest of modern programme composers came to a certain extent into this position. The development of pure abstract instrumental music seems to have been almost the monopoly of the German race; French and Italians have had a readier disposition for theatrical and at best dramatic music. Berlioz had an extraordinary perception of the possibilities of instrumental music, and appreciated the greatest works of the kind by other composers as fully as the best of his contemporaries; but it was not his own natural way of expressing himself. His natural bent was always towards the dramatic elements of effect and dramatic principles of treatment. It seems to have been necessary to him to find some moving circumstance to guide and intensify his inspiration. When his mind was excited in such a manner he produced the most extraordinary and original effects; and the fluency and clearness with which he expressed himself was of the highest order. His genius for orchestration, his vigorous rhythms, and the enormous volumes of sound which he was as much master of as the most delicate subtleties of small combinations of instruments, have the most powerful effect upon the hearer; while his vivid dramatic perception goes very far to supply the place of the intrinsically musical development which characterises the works of the greatest masters ​of abstract music. But on the other hand, as is inevitable from the position he adopted, he was forced at times to assume a theatrical manner, and a style which savours rather of the stage than of the true dramatic essence of the situations he deals with. In the 'Symphonic Fantastique,' for instance, which he also called 'Episode de la Vie d'un Artiste,' his management of the programme principle is thorough and well-devised. The notion of the ideal object of the artist's affections being represented by a definite musical figure, called the 'idée fixe,' unifying the work throughout by its constant reappearance in various aspects and surroundings, is very happy; and the way in which he treats it in several parts of the first movement has some of the characteristic qualities of the best kind of development of ideas and figures, in the purely musical sense; while at the same time he has obtained most successfully the expression of the implied sequence of emotions, and the absorption consequent upon the contemplation of the 'beloved object.' In the general laying out of the work he maintains certain vague resemblances to the usual symphonic type. The slow introduction, and the succeeding Allegro agitato—representing his passion, and therefore based to a very great extent on the 'idée fixe'—are equivalent to the familiar opening movements of the classical symphonies; and moreover there is even a vague resemblance in the inner structure of the Allegro to the binary form. The second movement, called 'Un bal,' corresponds in position to the time-honoured minuet and trio; and though the broad outlines are very free there is a certain suggestion of the old inner form in the relative disposition of the valse section and that devoted to the 'idée fixe.' In the same way the 'Scène aux Champs' corresponds to the usual slow movement. In the remaining movements the programme element is more conspicuous. A 'Marche au supplice' and a 'Songe d'une nuit de Sabbat' are both of them as fit as possible to excite the composer's love of picturesque and terrible effects, and to lead him to attempt realistic presentation, or even a sort of musical scene-painting, in which some of the characteristics of instrumental music are present, though they are submerged in the general impression by characteristics of the opera. The effect produced is of much the same nature as of that of passages selected from operas played without action in the concert-room. In fact, in his little preface, Berlioz seems to imply that this would be a just way to consider the work, and the condensed statement of his view of programme music there given is worth quoting: 'Le compositeur a eu pour but de développer, dans ce qu'elles ont de musical, différentes situations de la vie d'un artiste. Le plan du drame instrumental, privé du secours de la parole, a besoin d'etre exposé d'avance. Le programme (qui est indispensable à l'intelligence complète du plan dramatique de l'ouvrage) doit dont être considéré comme le texte parlé d'un Opéra, servant à amener des morceaux de musique, dont il motive le caractère et l'expression.' This is a very important and clear statement of the position, and marks sufficiently the essential difference between the principles of the most advanced writers of programme music, and those adopted by Beethoven. The results are in fact different forms of art. An instrumental drama is a fascinating idea, and might be carried out perfectly within the limits used even by Mozart and Haydn; but if the programme is indispensable to its comprehension those limits have been passed. This does not necessarily make the form of art an illegitimate one; but it is most important to realise that it is on quite a different basis from the type of the instrumental symphony; and this will be better understood by comparing Berlioz's statement with those Symphonies of Beethoven and Mendelssohn, or even of Raff and Rubinstein, where the adoption of a general and vague title gives the semblance of a similar use of programme. Beethoven liked to have a picture or scene or circumstance in hismind; but it makes all the difference to the form of art whether the picture or story is the guiding principle in the development of the piece, or whether the development follows the natural implication of the positively musical idea. The mere occurrence, in one of these forms, of a feature which is characteristic of the other, is not sufficient to bridge over the distance between them; and hence the 'instrumental drama' or poem, of which Berlioz has given the world its finest examples, must be regarded as distinct from the regular type of the pure instrumental symphony. It might perhaps be fairly regarded as the Celtic counterpart of the essentially Teutonic form of art, and as an expression of the Italo-Gallic ideas of instrumental music on lines parallel to the German symphony; but in reality it is scarcely even an offshoot of the old symphonic stem; and it will be far better for the understanding of the subject if the two forms of art are kept as distinct in name as they are in principle.
The only composer of really great mark who has worked on similar lines to Berlioz in modern times is Liszt; and his adoption of the name 'Symphonic poem' for such compositions sufficiently defines their nature without bringing them exactly under the head of symphonies. Of these there are many, constructed on absolutely independent lines, so as to appear as musical poems or counterparts of actual existing poems, on such subjects as Mazeppa, Prometheus, Orpheus, the battle of the Huns, the 'Preludes' of Lamartine, Hamlet, and so forth. [See p. 10b.] A work which, in name at least, trenches upon the old lines is the 'Faust Symphony,' in which the connection with the programme-principle of Berlioz ​is emphasised by the dedication of the piece to him. In this work the connection with the old form of symphony is perhaps even less than in the examples of Berlioz. Subjects and figures are used not for the purposes of defining the artistic form, but to describe individuals, ideas, or circumstances. The main divisions of the work are ostensibly three, which are called 'character pictures' of Faust, Margaret, and Mephistopheles severally; and the whole concludes with a setting of the 'Chorus mysticus.' Figures are used after the manner of Wagner's 'Leit-motiven' to portray graphically such things as bewildered inquiry, anxious agitation, love, and mockery, besides the special figure or melody given for each individual as a whole. These are so interwoven and developed by modifications and transformations suited to express the circumstances, as to present the speculations of the composer on the character and the philosophy of the poem in various interesting lights; and his great mastery of orchestral expression and fluency of style contribute to its artistic importance on its own basis; while in general the treatment of the subject is more psychological and less pictorially realistic than the prominent portions of Berlioz's work, and therefore slightly nearer in spirit to the classical models. But with all its striking characteristics and successful points the music does not approach Berlioz in vitality or breadth of musical idea.
The few remaining modern composers of symphonies belong essentially to the German school, even when adopting the general advantage of a vague title. Prominent among these are Raff and Rubinstein, whose methods of dealing with instrumental music are at bottom closely related. Raff almost invariably adopted a title for his instrumental works; but those which he selected admit of the same kind of general interpretation as those of Mendelssohn, and serve rather as a means of unifying the general tone and style of the work than of pointing out the lines of actual development. The several Seasons, for instance, serve as the general idea for a symphony each. Another is called 'Im Walde.' In another several conditions in the progress of the life of a man serve as a vague basis for giving a certain consistency of character to the style of expression, in a way quite consonant with the pure type. In one case Raff comes nearer to the Berlioz ideal, namely in the Lenore Symphony, in some parts of which he clearly attempts to depict a succession of events. But even when this is most pronounced, as in the latter part of the work, there is very little that is not perfectly intelligible and appreciable as music without reference to the poem. As a matter of fact Raff is always rather free and relaxed in his form; but that is not owing to his adoption of programme, since the same characteristic is observable in works that have no name as in those that have. The ease and speed with which he wrote, and the readiness with which he could call up a certain kind of genial, and often very attractive ideas, both interfered with the concentration necessary for developing a closely-knit and compact work of art. His ideas are clearly defined and very intelligible, and have much poetical sentiment; and these facts, together with a very notable mastery of orchestral resource and feeling for colour, have ensured his works great success; but there is too little self-restraint and concentration both in the general outline and in the statement of details, and too little self-criticism in the choice of subject-matter, to admit the works to the highest rank among symphonies. In the broadest outlines he generally conformed to the principles of the earlier masters, distributing his allegros, slow movements, scherzos, and finales, according to precedent. And, allowing for the laxity above referred to, the models which he followed in the internal structure of the movements are the familiar types of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. His finales are usually the most irregular, at times amounting almost to fantasias; but even this, as already described, is in conformity with tendencies which are noticeable even in the golden age of symphonic art. Taken as a whole, Raff's work in the department of symphony is the best representative of a characteristic class of composition of modern times—the class in which the actual ideas and general colour and sentiment are nearly everything, while their development and the value of the artistic side of structure are reduced to a minimum.
Rubinstein's works are conspicuous examples of the same class; but the absence of concentration, self-criticism in the choice of subjects, and care in statement of details, is even more conspicuous in him than in Raff. His most important symphonic work is called 'The Ocean'—the general title serving, as in Raff's symphonies, to give unity to the sentiment and tone of the whole, rather than as a definite programme to work to. In this, as in Raff, there is much spontaneity in the invention of subjects, and in some cases a higher point of real beauty and force is reached than in that composer's works; and there is also a good deal of striking interest in the details. The most noticeable external feature is the fact that the symphony is in six movements. There was originally the familiar group of four, and to these were added, some years later, an additional slow movement, which stands second, and a further genuine scherzo, which stands fifth, both movements being devised in contrast to the previously written adagio and scherzo. Another symphony of Rubinstein's, showing much vigour and originality, and some careful and intelligent treatment of subject, is the 'Dramatic.' This is in the usual four movements, with well devised introductions to the first and last. The work as a whole is hampered by excessive and unnecessary length, which is not the result of the possibilities of the subjects or the necessities of their development; and might be reduced with nothing but absolute advantage.
The greatest existing representative of the highest art in the department of Symphony is Johannes Brahms. Though he has as yet given ​the world only two examples, they have that mark of intensity, loftiness of purpose, and artistic mastery which sets them above all other contemporary work of the kind. Like Beethoven and Schumann he did not produce a symphony till a late period in his career, when his judgment was matured by much practice in other kindred forms of instrumental composition, such as pianoforte quartets, string sextets and quartets, sonatas, and such forms of orchestral composition as variations and two serenades. He seems to have set himself to prove that the old principles of form are still capable of serving as the basis of works which should be thoroughly original both in general character and in detail and development, without either falling back on the device of programme, or abrogating or making any positive change in the principles, or abandoning the loftiness of style which befits the highest form of art; but by legitimate expansion, and application of careful thought and musical contrivance to the development. In all these respects he is a thorough descendant of Beethoven, and illustrates the highest and best way in which the tendencies of the age in instrumental music may yet be expressed. He differs most markedly from the class of composers represented by Raff, in the fact that his treatment of form is an essential and important element in the artistic effect. The care with which he develops it is not more remarkable than the insight shown in all the possible ways of enriching it without weakening its consistency. In appearance it is extremely free, and at available points all possible use is made of novel effects of transition and ingenious harmonic subtleties; but these are used in such a way as not to disturb the balance of the whole, or to lead either to discursiveness or tautology. In the laying out of the principal sections as much freedom is used as is consistent with the possibility of being readily followed and understood. Thus in the recapitulatory portion of a movement the subjects which characterise the sections are not only subjected to considerable and interesting variation, but are often much condensed and transformed. In the first movement of the second symphony, for instance, the recapitulation of the first part of the movement is so welded on to the working-out portion that the hearer is only happily conscious that this point has been arrived at without the usual insistance to call his attention to it. Again, the subjects are so ingeniously varied and transformed in restatement that they seem almost new, though the broad melodic outlines give sufficient assurance of their representing the recapitulation. The same effect is obtained in parts of the allegrettos which occupy the place of scherzos in both symphonies. The old type of minuet and trio form is felt to underlie the well-woven texture of the whole, but the way in which the joints and seams are made often escapes observation. Thus in the final return to the principal section in the Allegretto of the 2nd Symphony, which is in G major, the subject seems to make its appearance in F♯ major, which serves as dominant to B minor, and going that way round the subject glides into the principal key almost insensibly. In the Allegretto of the Symphony in C the outline of a characteristic feature is all that is retained in the final return of the principal subject near the end, and new effect is gained by giving a fresh turn to the harmony. Similar closeness of texture is found in the slow movement of the same symphony, at the point where the principal subject returns, and the richness of the variation to which it is subjected enhances the musical impression. The effect of these devices is to give additional unity and consistency to the movements. Enough is given to enable the intelligent hearer to understand the form without its appearing in aspects with which he is already too familiar. Similar thoroughness is to be found on the other sides of the matter. In the development of the sections, for instance, all signs of 'padding' are done away with as much as possible, and the interest is sustained by developing at once such figures of the principal subjects as will serve most suitably. Even such points as necessary equivalents to cadences, or pauses on the dominant, are by this means infused with positive musical interest in just proportion to their subordinate relations to the actual subjects. Similarly, in the treatment of the orchestra, such a thing as filling up is avoided to the utmost possible; and in order to escape the over-complexity of detail so unsuitable to the symphonic form of art, the forces of the orchestra are grouped in masses in the principal characteristic figures, in such a way that the whole texture is endowed with vitality. The impression so conveyed to some is that the orchestration is not at such a high level of perfection as the other elements of art; and certainly the composer does not aim at subtle combinations of tone and captivating effects of a sensual kind so much as many other great composers of modern times; and if too much attention is concentrated upon the special element of his orchestration it may doubtless seem at times rough and coarse. But this element must only be considered in its relation to all the others, since the composer may reasonably dispense with some orchestral fascinations in order to get broad masses of harmony and strong outlines; and if he seeks to express his musical ideas by means of sound, rather than to disguise the absence of them by seductive misuse of it, the world is a gainer. In the putting forward and management of actual subjects, he is guided by what appears to be inherent fitness to the occasion. In the first movement of the Symphony in C, attention is mainly concentrated upon one strong subject figure, which appears in both the principal sections and acts as a centre upon which the rest of the musical materials are grouped; and ​the result is to unify the impression of the whole movement, and to give it a special sentiment in an unusual degree. In the first movement of the Symphony in D there are even several subjects in each section, but they are so interwoven with one another, and seem so to fit and illustrate one another, that for the most part there appears to be but little loss of direct continuity. In several cases we meet with the devices of transforming and transfiguring an idea. The most obvious instance is in the Allegretto of the Symphony in D, in which the first Trio in 2-4 time (a) is radically the same subject as that of the principal section in 3-4 time (b), but very differently stated. Then a very important item in the second Trio is a version in 3-8 time (c) of a figure of the first Trio in 2-4 time (d).
Of similar nature, in the Symphony in C minor, are the suggestions of important features of subjects and figures of the first Allegro in the opening introduction, and the connection of the last movement with its own introduction by the same means. In all these respects Brahms illustrates the highest manifestations of actual art as art; attaining his end by extraordinary mastery of both development and expression. And it is most notable that the great impression which his larger works produce is gained more by the effect of the entire movements than by the attractiveness of the subjects. He does not seem to aim at making his subjects the test of success. They are hardly seen to have their full meaning till they are developed and expatiated upon in the course of the movement, and the musical impression does not depend upon them to anything like the proportionate degree that it did in the works of the earlier masters. This is in conformity with the principles of progress which have been indicated above. The various elements of which the art-form consists seem to have been brought more and more to a fair balance of functions, and this has necessitated a certain amount of 'give and take' between them. If too much stress is laid upon one element at the expense of others, the perfection of the art-form as a whole is diminished thereby. If the effects of orchestration are emphasised at the expense of the ideas and vitality of the figures, the work may gain in immediate attractiveness, but must lose in substantial worth. The same may be said of over-predominance of subject-matter. The subjects need to be noble and well marked, but if the movement is to be perfectly complete, and to express something in its entirety and not as a string of tunes, it will be a drawback if the mere faculty for inventing a striking figure or passage of melody preponderates excessively over the power of development; and the proportion in which they are both carried upwards together to the highest limit of musical effect is a great test of the artistic perfection of the work. In these respects Brahms's Symphonies are extraordinarily successful. They represent the austerest and noblest form of art in the strongest and healthiest way; and his manner and methods have already had some influence upon the younger and more serious composers of the day.
[ C. H. H. P. ]
* ↑ MSS. in the Christ Church Library, Oxford.
* ↑ She does not play a note without feeling, and even in the Symphonies played all with expression.
* ↑ MS. in Christ Church Library.
* ↑ It is notorious that Mozart gave fuller parts to the second violin because of the incompetence of the viola-players.
* ↑ Joseph Haydn, vol. i. 284 (1875).
* ↑ Ibid. 287, 397.
* ↑ Beethoven's own view of it may be read just below.
* ↑ As we write, the announcement appears of a complete edition of Schubert's works, published and MS., by Breitkopf & Härtel.
* ↑ Mendelssohn's early Symphonies are marked 'Klavier mit dem Basse.' (See vol. ii. 265, note 3.)
* ↑ See the curious anecdote, vol. iii. p. 413.
* ↑ For Schumann's intention see Wassielewsky, 3rd ed. 269, 272.
* ↑ The composer has aimed at developing various situations in the life of an artist, so far as seemed musically possible. The plan of an instrumental drama, being without words, requires to be explained beforehand. The programme (which is indispensable to the perfect comprehension of the dramatic plan of the work) ought therefore to be considered in the light of the spoken text of an Opera, serving to lead up to the pieces of music, and indicate the character and expression.
* ↑ This important admission was made by Beethoven to Neate: 'I have always a picture in my thoughts when I am composing, and work to it.' (Thayer, iii. 343.)
* ↑ A third, in F, was produced at Vienna on Dec. 2, 1883, but the facts ascertainable about it are not yet sufficiently full to base any discussion upon (Dec. 31).
* ↑ For a counterpart to this see the first movement of Beethoven's Sonata in F, op. 10, no. 2.