 Chapter three of the Piano Forte Sonata by John South Shedlock. This loop of Vox recording is in the public domain. Bernardo Pasquini, a contemporary of J. Coonow. In the year 1637 was born at Massa di Valnevola, Tuscany, Bernardo Pasquini. Footnotes. Maya thinks he was probably the son of Ercol Pasquini, born about 1580, and predecessor of Frescabaldi at St. Peter's. End of footnote. Who is said to have been one of the most distinguished performers on the organ, and also the harpsichord. He studied under Loretto Vittori and Antonio Sesti, but his real master was evidently Palestrina, who scores young Bernardo studied with fervent zeal. He was appointed organist of Santa Maria Maggiore Rome, and, according to the monument erected to his memory by his nephew, Bernardo Riccordati, and his people, Bernardo Gaffi, in the Church of San Lorenzo in Lucina of that city. The composer was for a time in the service of Battista, Prince Borghese. The inscription runs thus. Deo M. Bernardo Pasquino, Hattrusco, a Massa Valis, Nevelli, Liberiani, Basilicae, Especuere. Organendo vero, probitate vitae, et moris liberae l'odatissimo chi excalentissimi Johannis Battistae Borghese sulumonensium fruncipius clientella et munificentia, on a startus musicus modulis aput omnis fere europei pruncipius nominis gloriam adeptus annus salutis millesimo septingentissimo decimo divi chesimo secundo novembres. Sancti cacchilli sacro ab humanis exquisit utcuius vertutis et studia prosecutis furat in terris felicius imitaritur in colis. Bernardo's gaffi discipulus et Bernardo's ricordati ex cerore nepus priceptori et evunculo amantissimo morentes monumentum posiure. Vixit annus septu aginta duo menses undecim dies quadodecim. Pasquino enjoyed reputation as a dramatic composer and the success of an opera of his performed at the Teatro Capranica Rome during the festivities in honour of Queen Christina of Sweden, 1679, is specially noted, or according to Mendel he wrote two successful operas, one for the opening of the Teatro Capranica and the second for the festivals. He also wrote an oratorio, Lasset de Cristo, Pasquino died in the year 1710. But it will be asked why is he mentioned in a book which is concerned with the sonata? It is known that he was a skillful performer on the harpsichord, and some ticatas and sweets of his appear to have been published in a collection of clavier music at Amsterdam in 1704. Fetis, in his biographie universelle des musicians, even states that he wrote sonatas for Gravi Ciembalo. Here are his words. Lansburg procédait une recule manuscrie originale des pièces d'orges de Pasquini, dont j'ai écrit du toccat composé un 1697. C'est manuscrit et indiqué d'une manière inexacte dans le catalogue de la bibliothèque de ce professeur, Berlin 1859, et cette manière Pasquini, sonatae par Gravi Ciembalo, Libro-Prasioso, volume grosso iscritto di suo, sua mano in questo Libro. Ce même catalogue indiqué aussi de Bernard Pasquini, sagui di contrapunto, anno 1695, volume forte, iscritto di suo, sua mano in questo Libro. Malheureusement, ses pressières ouroches sont passées en Amérique avec toute la bibliothèque musicale di professeur Lansburg. Whether these precious volumes actually went to America seems doubtful. Anyhow, both volumes are now safely housed in the Berlin Royal Library. It may be mentioned that the first contains no real sonata. Its contents consist principally of sweets, ticatas, variations and fugues. In the story of Italian instrumental music Pasquini is little more than a name. The fourth volume of A. W. Ambrose's history of music concludes thus. Thus of the famous master, i.e. Pasquini, nothing remains except his name and his proud monument in San Lorenzo in Lucina. The writer of the article D. Scarlatti in Sir George Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians remarks that the famous harpsichord player and composer has been called a pupil of Bernardo Pasquini, but he considers this most improbable seeing that Pasquini was of the school of Palestrina and wrote entirely in the contrapunctal style, whereas Domenico Scarlatti's chief interest is that he was the first composer who studied the peculiar characteristics of the freestyle of the harpsichord. Of Pasquini as a performer on the harpsichord, Matheson relates how on his visit to Rome he found Corelli playing the violin, Pasquini the harpsichord and Getani the lute, all in the orchestra of the opera house. And once more, in the notice of Pasquini in the same dictionary, we are informed that the composer exercised a certain influence on German musicians. In C. F. Eitzmann's G. Schickter des Klavier Spiels, there is an interesting reference to some Toccata's of Pasquini, published in Toccata et suite pour les clavissons des messieurs Pasquini, Paglietti et Gaspar, Köl, Amsterdam, Roger, 1704. A Toccata was published, and probably one of those in the above work, by I. Walsh in his second collection of Toccata's Voluntaries and Fugues made on purpose for the organ and harpsichord, composed by Pasquini, Paglietti and others, the most eminent foreign authors. Of Paglietti, footnote, Weitzmann and other writers in referring to the work published in Amsterdam, spell the name Paglietti. It should however be Paglietti or Poglietti. End of footnote. Court organist at Vienna before J. S. Bach was born, Emile Naumann has, by the way, given an interesting account in an article a bishop unbekannt, Geliebener, Vorgangen, Sebastian Bach unter den Italienern, Nühe Bulinne Musikzeitgung, Jahrgang, 29. The Toccata's of Pasquini, published by Roger and a so-called Sonata, footnote, this piece was printed from a manuscript in the British Museum, which bears no such title. Judging, however, from the title of the Libro Prizjo mentioned on page 71, that name may originally have been given to it. End of footnote. Printed by Weitzmann in the work just referred to, constitute, we believe, all that has hitherto appeared in print of this composer. And yet, surely Pasquini may lay claim to a place in the history of instrumental music and the Sonata, for he not only wrote sweets, but also Sonatas for the harpsichord, or to be quite exact, for two harpsichords. Some, at any rate of his music, is to be found in the British Museum. There are three volumes. Additional manuscripts, 31, 501-3. On the fly leaf of the first is written, Add Usen Bonandi, Felice Ricordati di Baggiano in Etruia. Then comes in pencil a note, probably made when the volumes came into possession of the British Museum. These are the original manuscripts by the hand of Bernardo Pasquini, 1637-1710, the greatest organist of Italy in the second half of the 17th century, and written for his nephew, B. Ricordati. They are the only manuscripts of Pasquini known to be in Europe. This volume is dated at the end of December 3rd, 1704, at the beginning May 6th, 1703. And now for its contents. The first piece is a short suite, footnote. The suite is printed in the Pasquini Greco album by Messers Novello, end of footnote, consisting of a tastata, the old term for prelude, a corrente and an aria, and it shows that Pasquini could write homophonic as well as polyphonic music. Then follows a piece in the key of D major, headed Addue Cimbali, 1704, Bernardo Pasquini, which consists of three movements. First one commencing with chords, after which, fugal imitation. Next we have a fugal movement, like the preceding one in common time, lastly one in six eighths time. All three movements are in the same key. The part for each cimbalo is written on a separate stave, the one below the other. Only the base notes are written, and the upper parts are indicated by figures. But this will be clearer presently, for we shall give one or more illustrations. At the close of the six eighths movement is written fine, and on the following page another piece begins in C major, marked merely 2A, commencing thus. This theme reminds one of Bach's Adagio from the Second Organ Concerto, or even Handles Among the Monster Atheist Strode, footnotes. Pasquini was no doubt one of the many composers who influenced Handle. When the latter visited Italy before he came to London in 1710, he made the acquaintance of the two Scalattis, Alessandro and Domenico, Corelli and other famous musicians at Rome, of Lottie and Stefani at Venice, and surely at Naples he must have known Pasquini, whose name, however, is not to be found either in Scholtje or Rockstrow. Only Gasperini, who was a pupil of Pasquini's, is mentioned by the former. End of footnote. The movements of this second piece are similar in structure and character to those of the first. Next we have a piece of lighter character in two movements, and apparently for one cimbarlo. There is, of course, only one bass part, figured. At the commencement is merely marked Basso Continuo. The following piece is headed to 3A Sonata, 3rd Sonata. It is in the key of D minor, and it has three movements, all in the same key. Now, as all the pieces for two cimbarli in the volume after this are marked as sonatas, coupled with the fact that before this third sonata there are two pieces for two cimbarli, the latter of which is marked 2A, second, we may conclude that these two are also sonatas. The piece for one cimbarlo between the second and third sonatas is, as we have remarked, of lighter character, and was possibly considered a suite. After the third sonata comes a fourth, then a basso continuo, containing, however, by exception, more than one suite, and so on, alternately, until the fourteenth sonata is reached. Then follows the last piece of the volume. The superscription for one or two cimbarli leads us to believe that the preceding basso continuo numbers were intended for one cimbarlo. It should be stated that movements in binary form are rare among the sonatas, frequently among the basso continuo pieces, another reason for considering the latter suites. The structure of the third sonata, footnote, see the novello album, end of footnote, is extremely simple. The first, probably an allegro moderato, opens with a bold characteristic phrase which is repeated in the second bar by the second cimbarlo, points of imitation, in fact, continue throughout the movement. At the seventh bar there is modulation to the dominant, and at the ninth to the subdominant, in which the opening theme recurs. A stately antiphonal passage leads back to the principal key, and the movement concludes with a cadence, such as we find in many a work of barks or handles. The adagio opens with short phrases for each instrument alternately. A new subject in the relative major is treated in imitative fashion. After a return to the opening theme, also an allusion to the second theme, a new figure is introduced. But the movement soon comes to a close. This slow movement brings to one's mind the Lord is a man of war, and the major section of the duet, Thou in thy mercy, in handles Israel in Egypt. The third movement in structure much resembles the first, the music is broad and vigorous. The closing bars represent the stringendo passage, and presto bars in the coda of the churzo of the chorale symphony. Of course it is disappointing to have only the bass parts for each instrument. The volume, as we have already stated, was for the use of ricordati, and probably the uncle and nephew performed these sonatas together. Musicians will be able to write out the figured basses, and thus form some idea of the music. The figures are an outline of what was in the composer's mind, but these basses, like those of Bach and Handel, so simple, so clear to the composers who penned them, will always remain more or less a crook scretor quorum. It will be noted that the three movements, as in some of Corelli's sonatas, are all in the same key. We now give the opening bars of the three movements of the piece for one or two cimbali. All the other sonatas are more or less after the pattern of the one given. The other two volumes contain suites, heirs with variations, arias, and a quantity of short-figured basses, apparently as studies. Before closing this short chapter, we will add a word or two about Italian music for the harpsichord at the beginning of the 18th century. A recent writer remarks that Domenico Scallatti seems to spring full-armed into the view of history. But his father, the renowned opera writer Alessandro Scallatti, wrote music for the harpsichord, also his pupil Gaetano Graeco, who succeeded him as professor at the conservatorio di Porri di Gesù Cristo Naples in 1717. The influence of the master can clearly be traced in the music of the pupil, and if one may judge from the simpler character of Graeco's music, footnote, see the novello album, end of footnote, as compared with that of D. Scallatti's, he too was a predecessor. Graeco is said to have been born about 1680. D. Scallatti was born in 1683, but this of course decides nothing as to the dates of their compositions. The harpsichord music of G. Graeco has both character and charm, and it is indeed strange that none of his pieces have been included in either the Tresor di Pianist, the Mitre di Claveson, or Power's collections of old music. This chapter is headed a contemporary of Cunow. The latter published all his known sonatas by the year 1700, while the dates assigned to the Pasquini sonata volume are, as we have seen, 1703 to 04. But at that time Pasquini was over 60 years of age. It is therefore more probable that he was really the predecessor of the German master as a writer of clavier sonatas. End of chapter 3, recording by Jordan Watts, Oxfordshire. Chapter 4 of the Piano Forte Sonata by John South Shedlock. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Emanuel Bach and some of his contemporaries. Carl Philip Emanuel, third son of J. S. Bach, was born at Weimar 8th or 14th of March 1714 and died at Hamburg 14th of December 1788. He studied composition and clavier playing with his father. His brother, Wilhelm Friedemann, his senior by four years, went through a similar course but learned, in addition, the violin under J. G. Graun. Emanuel's attention, however, was concentrated on the one instrument. And to this we probably owe the numerous clavier sonatas which he wrote, and which paved the way for those of Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven. In his 21st year, 1735, Emanuel left his father's house in order to study jurisprudence at Frankfurt on the order. Three years later, however, he went to Berlin and, as chenbalist, entered the service of Frederick the Great, 1740. Footnote. The post was offered to Bach in 1738, while Frederick was as yet Crown Prince, but he only entered on his duties in 1740. End of footnote. Already in his father's house, the young students saw and heard many distinguished musicians. He himself has told us that no musician of any note passed through Leipzig without seeking opportunity to meet his father, so famed as composer and as performer on the organ and clavier. And again, afterwards, at the court of Prussia, he came into contact with the most notable composers and performers of his day. From among these may be singled out C. H. Graun, composer of the Todjesu and Georg Bender. Footnote. The four sons of Hans Georg Bender, Franz, Johann, Georg and Josef, were excellent musicians and all members of the band Frederick the Great. Georg, the third son, composer of Ariadne and Medea, two duodramas which attracted the attention of Mozart, was, however, the most remarkable. End of footnote. Graun was already in the service of Frederick when the latter was only crowned Prince. Footnote. See also Carl Lyles, Frederick the Great, volume four, page 134. Graun, one of the best judges living, is likewise off to Italy gathering singers. End of footnote. It would be interesting to learn the special influences acting upon Emmanuel before he publishes first set of sonatas in 1742, but this is scarcely possible. The collection of symphonies, footnote, the symphonies appear to be three movement overtures transcribed for clavier. As a rule, the pieces marked as symphonies in this collection have no double bars and consequently no repeat in the first movement. A symphony of Emmanuel Bach is, however, marked as a sonata in the six lessons for the harpsichord published in London during the 18th century. End of footnote. Or sonatas, published at Leipzig in 1762, mentioned in our introductory chapter, gives, however, some idea of the music of that period, and it is possible that many of the numbers were written before Emmanuel Bach published his first works. The Samlung vermischter Klavierstucke für geubter und ungeubter Spiele by Georg Bender may also be mentioned. It is of great interest, especially the sonata in C minor. The character of the music and the style of writing for the instrument constantly remind one of Emmanuel Bach. Bender, born in 1721, joined the king of Prussia's band in 1742 and soon became known as an experienced performer on the harpsichords. Unfortunately, it is impossible to ascertain the dates of composition of the various pieces of this collection, and thus to find out whether Bender was an imitator of Bach or vice versa. The collection itself was only published at Gotha in 1780. The Italian taste in music which prevailed at the Prussian court, footnote, the king was extremely fond of Hass's music, but this composer, though German by birth, was thoroughly Italian by training, end of footnotes, had undoubtedly a marked influence on Bach and one for good. The severe counterpoint of the North German school and the suave melody of the sunny south blended together with happy results. It is customary to speak on block of Emmanuel Bach's sonatas, if, however, the earlier be compared with some of the later ones, interesting differences may be detected and developments traced. But the composer's artistic career, unfortunately, does not show a steady regular advance, such as we find in J. S. Bach or Beethoven. C. H. Bitter, his biographer and enthusiastic admirer, has to confess that he was a practical man, and that he wrote at times to please pupils and amateurs, while occasionally his aim may have been pecuniary gain. Of this early period, we shall note the sei sanate per cembalo, dedicated to Frederick II of Prussia, 1742, and the Württemberg sonatas, published in 1745. Of his middle period, the sex sonaten furs Klavier mit verandeten reprisen, Berlin, 1760, and the sex like der sonaten, Leipzig, 1766. And of his latter period, the six collections of sonaten verkenne und liebhaber, published at Leipzig, between 1779 and 1787. With regard, however, to the last named, it must be remembered that some are of a comparatively early date. Thus, the third sonata of the third collection, one of the finest of Bach's works, was composed in 1763, while the collection itself only appeared in 1781. But a table of dates will be given further on. If some of the best sonatas, written after 1760, be compared with those of 1742, there will be found in the later works more character in the subject matter, also movements of greater length. Practice, too, had improved the composer's style of writing. The later Bach did not return to the principal theme in such a crude, nay lawless fashion as the following. In these Frederick sonatas, there is as yet no tendency to enharmonic and other surprise modulations such as Bach afterwards displayed. Then, as to technique, we find octaves and large chords comparatively rare. Footnote. Yet curiously, there is no chord in the later sonatas so large as the two on page 29, 6th sonata, and which, of course, are played in arpeggio, end of footnote. While scale passages are more restricted, like Beethoven and Manuel Bach seized hold of additional notes to the keyboard. In 1742, his highest and lowest notes apparently were, but afterwards, in the introductory chapter, we noted the change with regard to the number of movements of a sonata, which took place between 1683 when Corelli published his first sonatas and 1740 when E. Bach composed his first set. Instances were given of sonatas in three movements by Corelli, but with that composer, four was the normal number, with E. Bach, three. This change came about in great measure through the concerto. From E. Bach, we are able to show the links in the chain of development, Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven. But though between Cunal, the first writer of sonatas for the clavier, and Bach, B. Pasquini wrote, as mentioned in the last chapter, sonatas in three movements, yet we have no knowledge that Bach was acquainted with them. Cunal, in fact, however interesting a phenomenon in the musical firmament, is not necessary to explain the appearance of Bach. Johann Sebastian Bach was undoubtedly acquainted with the Bible sonatas. He must have admired them, but he may have been afraid of the freedom of form which they displayed, and of their tendency to program music, and perhaps he did not speak of them to his sons, lest they should be led astray. For, as we have already mentioned, Sebastian Bach seems to have yielded for a moment to the Cunal influence, but if we may judge from his subsequent artwork, he did not feel satisfied that it was a good one. In 1742, Bach dedicated the six sonatas composed in 1740 to Frederick the Great. The title page runs thus And in the obsequious dedication, the composer describes them as work's di bollissimo talento mio. As Bach's earliest published sonatas, they are, for our purposes, of special interest. The order is as follows. Sonata I in F, Pocho Allegro, Adante, Vivace, Sonata II in B flat, Vivace Adagio, Allegro Assai, Sonata III in E, Pocho Allegro Adagio Presto, Sonata IV in C minor, Allegro Adagio Presto, Sonata V in C, Pocho Allegro Adante, Allegro Assai, Sonata VI in A, Allegro Adagio Allegro. The first and last movements of all six are in binary form. In the five major sonatas, the first sections close in the key of the dominant, and in the one minor sonata, number four, in the relative major. The opening movement of each sonata is in early sonata form. The second section starts with the principal theme or a brief allusion to it, but then, after a short development with modulation, there is a return to the principal key and to the principal theme. Footnote, accepting in the fifth, which, by the way, was for a long time considered to be the composition of J.S. Bach, and was published as such by J.C. Westphal and Company. This return to the opening theme is to be found already in the sonatas for Violin and Cimbalo by G.P. Tellman, published at Amsterdam in 1718. C. Allegro of number one in A, the major theme, is given as usual in the key of the dominant at the beginning of the second section. Then, after a modulation to the key of the relative minor, a return is made to the opening key and the opening theme. End of footnote. The final movements, on the other hand, are of the usual sweet order. Of interest and, indeed, of importance in our history of development are the contents of the first section of the opening movements. In some of the Scarlatti sonatas, C. number 56, there is to be found a fairly definite second subject in the dominant key, or in the case of a minor piece in the dominant minor or relative major. Here the process of differentiation is continued in the second sonata. The contrast between the two subjects is specially marked. We give the opening bar of each. In most of the developments, the composer steers clear of the principal key so that at the return of the principal theme it may appear fresh. To such a method, since Beethoven, we are quite accustomed, but it is curious how little attention, even with the example of E. Bach before him, hide and paid to such an effective means of contrast in some of his early sonatas. In Bach's number six in A, the development assumes unusual magnitude. It is even longer than the first section, and it is not only long, but interesting. One passage of which we quote a portion has rather a modern appearance. Similar passages are to be found in the opening vivace of J. G. Muthel's second sonata in G. He was a pupil of J. S. Bach, and either a pupil or close follower of E. Bach. His six published sonatas are of great musical interest. In his wide sweeping arpeggios and other florid passages, he shows an advance on E. Bach. His second arioso with 12 variations is worth the notice of pianists in search of something unfamiliar. There are features in the music, and of these the character of the theme is not least, which remind one strongly of Beethoven's 32 C minor variations. End of footnote. The return of the principal theme is proceeded by an unexpected entry of the opening bars in B minor, a first sign of that humor which afterwards formed so prominent a feature in Bach's music. And the theme itself, after the opening notes, is dealt with in original fashion. The middle movements of numbers two, three, five and six are in the key of the relative minor. That of number one is in the tonic minor, and that of number four C minor in the relative major. Number one, twice interrupted by a recitative, upper part and figured bass, footnote. A recitative is also to be found in a mulla sonata. End of footnote is dignified, yet tender and in form original. The adagio in C sharp minor of number three is a movement of singular charm. It is based on imitation, but though old in style, it breathes something of the new spirit, or rather, for there is nothing new under the sun, of the old Florentine spirit which freed music for a time from the fetters of polyphony. The genius of Johann Sebastian Bach gains the victory over form, and in fact, exhausted fugue form. It is in the clever but dry fugues of some of his contemporaries and especially successors that one can feel the absolute necessity for a new departure. This adagio is, as it were, a delicate remembrance, and one not unmixed with sadness of the composer's immortal parents. The light, lively, final movements need no description. All the music of these sonatas is written in two or three parts or voices. Occasionally there are chord passages in which for the moment the number is increased. We have dwelt somewhat in detail on this work, as it appears to be little known. There is a sonata in the key of D major, published in the third collection, 1763, of Maupurg's Klavierstucker, page 10, by E. Bach, which was written in the same year, 1740, but earlier than the Frederick sonatas. C. H. Bitter remarks that if the year of composition were not known, it would certainly pass as a much later work. The first movement reminds one of Beethoven's terse-bold style. Bitter refers to the freedom with which the thoughts are expressed, to the melodious character of the adante, and to the humour of the finale. He might also have referred to the style of writing for the instrument, which suggests a later date. In 1745 appeared the Wurtenberg sonatas, so called because they were dedicated to Bach's pupil, the Ducat de Wurtenberg etecca, as he is named on the title page of the original edition. These sonatas are marked as opera secunda. They were offered by the composer to the Duke in recognition of the many favours shown to him, at the time when I had the honour of giving you lessons in music at Berlin. Of these sonatas we have only been able to have access to the two preserved in the British Museum, the others are probably of similar character. Number one in E-flat opens with an adagio, followed by an Allegro assai, E-flat, and then by a menuet alternato and trio, both in E-flat, with the former da capo. The first and second movements are in old binary form. The Allegro shows the influence of D-scalati. The menuet is fresh and pleasing. It is evident, taking E-Bach himself as standard, that this is a sweet rather than a sonata. Number two in B-flat is of similar character and construction. Both sonatas are old in form, but more modern in their subject material and style of writing than those dedicated to the king of Prussia. In the latter there is a solidity not to be found here. In its place we have lightness, almost merriment. They were written, one would almost think, expressly for the amusement of the Duke. The rapid, semi-quaver passages, as in number one, and the crossing of hands, as in number two, tell in no undecided manner the influence of Scalati. The exceedingly light and graceful menuetes remind one of the kinship between the composer and Haydn. In a letter to Focal dated 10th February 1775, Bach writes as follows The two sonatas, which met with your special approval, are the only ones of this kind which I have ever composed. They are connected with the one in B-minor, which I sent to you, with the one in B-flat, which you now have also, and with two out of the Hafner-Württemberg collection, and all six were composed on a clavier cord with the short octave at the toplet's baths, when I was suffering from a severe attack of gout. A series of six sonatas by E-Bach is in the Trésor de Pieniste, and is said to have been published at Nuremberg in 1744. The work is also dedicated to the Duke of Württemberg, and the opus number two is also given to it. There is mention of these sonatas in Bitter's biography of J. S. Bach's son, but not of the others. End of footnote. It would be interesting to know the two sonatas belonging to this period, the only ones of the kind that I have ever written. In the catalogue of musical remains of E-Bach published two years after his death, the opening bars are given of a sonata in B-minor, the above letter, written at toplets in 1743. This surely must be the one mentioned in the above letter. In 1760 Bach published six sonatas with varied repeats, mid-Ferrandeton reprisen, dedicated to Princess Amelia of Prussia. In the preface the composer remarks that nowadays change or repetition is indispensable. He complains that some players will not play the notes as written, even the first time, and again that players, if the changing on repetition is left to them, make alterations unsuitable to the character of the music. These sonatas are of great historical interest. This preface, also the evident necessity for additional, inner part notes at times, especially in the slow movements of E-Bach and other composers of that day, make one feel that, as it now stands, much of Bach's music is a dead letter. Here we are face to face with a question which in a kindred matter has given rise to much controversy. If the music is to produce its proper effect, something must be done. To that, in the case of E-Bach sonatas, all reasonable musicians must agree, yet not, perhaps, as to what that something should be. According to certain authorities, only additions should be made which are strictly in keeping with the spirit of the age in which the music was written. Some, on the other hand, would bring the music up to date. They think it better to clothe 18th century music in 19th century dress than to ask musicians with 19th century years to listen to patched up 18th century music. The second plan would not be approved by musicians who hold the classical masters in veneration. With a little modification, the first one, however, ought to meet with general acceptance. We may write in keeping with the spirit of a past age, but the music must now be played on an instrument of different character, compass and quality of tone, so surely in making additions, and so far as certain ornaments are concerned alterations. These things ought to be taken into consideration. A certain latitude should, therefore, be allowed to the transcriber, hardened fast rules in such a delicate task are impossible. The late Dr. Boulou edited six of E-Bach's sonatas. And though he was well acquainted with the composer's style of writing, his anxious desire to present the music in the most favourable light sometimes led him to make changes of which even lenient judges would not approve. The matter is an interesting one, and we may therefore venture to refer something in detail to one passage. In the third sonata, F minor, of the third collection, the passage has been changed by Boulou. He has altered the C-flat in the second half of the first bar into a C natural, thus smoothing down the hard progression to the key of B-flat minor. Now, this very passage had already, nearly a hundred years previously, attracted the notice of Foucault, who admitted that, apart from the context, it jarred against his musical feeling. But he had thought over the composer's intention in writing that sonata, and had come to the conclusion that, in the opening Allegro, Bach wished to express indignation. Footnote. In like manner, he feels in the addante, reflection, and in the final addantino, melancholy consolation. End of footnote. He therefore asks, are the hard, rough, passionate expressions of an angry and indignant man beautiful? In this case, Foucault was of opinion that the hard modulation was a faithful record of what the composer wished to express. The natural order of history seems inverted here. One would have expected Foucault to look upon the music from an abstract, but Boulow, from a poetical point of view, C. H. Bitter, also on purely musical grounds, condemns Boulow's alterations. He says, even weaknesses of great masters, among which the passages in question are not to be counted, still more so, special peculiarities, should be left untouched. What would become of Beethoven, if each generation of musicians, according to individual judgment, arrogated to itself the right here and there of expunging hardnesses, smoothing down peculiarities and softening even sharp points with which, from time to time, we come into unpleasant contact. Works of art must be accepted as they are. The first part of Bitter's argument is sound, but unfortunately for the last, the writer in his life of Immanuel Bach and his brothers insist on the necessity of not accepting Immanuel's clevia works as they are. He quotes a passage from the endante of the fourth sonata, of the second set of the Euphryzen sonaten, and comes to the natural conclusion that it was only an outline requiring filling up. With all his faults one cannot but admire the spirit in which Boulow worked. He felt the greatness of the old masters regretted the limited means which they had at their command, and also the stenographic system in which they were accustomed to express their thoughts, and he sought therefore to make use of modern means, and thereby was naturally tempted to introduce modern effects. The restoration of the old masters is a difficult and delicate task, and in most cases one may add a thankless one. In the matter of transcription, however, it is important to distinguish between a Boulow and a Tausig, the one displaying the intelligence of an artist, the other the thoughtlessness of a virtuoso. But what it may be asked is the character of the changes made by Bach. The matter is of interest. By examining these sonatas we get some idea of the difference between letter and spirit. However, from what we have said above, mere imitation of these changes in playing Bach's music would in its turn be letter rather than spirit. As a rule the bass remains the same, though plain crotchets may become quavers, as in extract from sonata I given below, or notes turned into broken octaves, or at times some very slight alteration may occur, such as. In the upper parts the changes are similar to those found in the variations of Haydn and Mozart. An illustration will be better than any explanation, and we accordingly give a brief extract of the first sonata. First the five bars of the Allegretto, as at the opening, then as they are changed. The publication of the set of six Leipzig collections of sonatas, etc., commenced in 1779, but 13 years previously the composer had published a set of Sex legta clavier sonata, and these in one or two respects are curious. The opening movement of number six has no double bars, and therefore no repeat of the first section, and again it has a coda pausing on the dominant chord and followed by an addentino. This second movement, peculiar informant modulation ends on the dominant of F, leading directly into the presto. The opening of the Larghetto of number two was probably the prototype of many a theme of the classical masters. The works by which Immanuel Bach is best known are the six collections of sonatas, rondos, and fantasias, published at Leipzig between 1779 and 1787. The composer died in 1788. The first collection, 1779, bears the title Sex clavier sonatas for Kenner and Liebhaber, and in fact contains six sonatas. But Nebst Einigen rondos, together with some rondos, was already added to the title page of the second and third collections, and to the remaining ones, the still further editions of Freya Fantasian. For the sake of reference the list of sonatas is subjoint. 1779 Collection 1 Sonata in C 1773 Hamburg Sonata in F 1758 Berlin Sonata in B Minor 1774 Hamburg Sonata in A Boulot number 3 1765 Potsdam Sonata in F 1772 Hamburg Sonata in G Boulot number 4 1765 Potsdam 1780 Collection 2 Sonata in G 1774 Hamburg Sonata in F 1780 Hamburg Sonata in A Boulot number 2 1780 Hamburg 1781 Collection 3 Sonata in A Minor 1774 Hamburg Sonata in D Minor Boulot number 5 1766 Potsdam Sonata in F Minor Boulot number 1 1763 Berlin 1783 Collection 4 Sonata in G 1781 Hamburg Sonata in E Minor 1765 Berlin 1785 Collection 5 Sonata in E Minor 1784 Hamburg Sonata in B Flat 1784 Hamburg 1787 Collection 6 Sonata in D 1785 Hamburg Sonata in E Minor 1785 Hamburg Without copious musical examples and analysis of these 18 sonatas would prove heavy reading, it will therefore be easier for the writer and certainly pleasanter for his readers to give a somewhat Freya Fantasia description of them, laying emphasis naturally on points connected with the special purpose in view. Footnote, the number of sonatas in each collection grew gradually smaller, first six, then three, lastly two. The dates of composition in the last column of Above Table may be studied with advantage. A later date of publication not necessarily imply a more advanced work. Thus of the three fine sonatas in the third collection, all of which are included in the Boulot selection, one was written 18, another 15, and the third, though first in order of reckoning, seven years before the date of publication 1781. End of footnotes. In the matter of tonality, there are some curiosities. When Beethoven's first symphony appeared, the opening bars of the introduction became stumbling stones to the pedagogues of that day. The work was without doubt in the key of C major, yet instead of opening with the tonic chord of that key, the composer led up to it through the keys of the subdominant, relative minor, and dominant. No wonder that such a proceeding surprised conventional minds, and that the critics warned Beethoven of the danger of going his own way. But his predecessor, Emmanuel Bach, had also strayed from the pedagogic path, a narrow one, yet in the end leading to destruction. In the first book, 1779, the fifth sonata, as shown by the whole of the movement, with the exception of the two opening bars, is in the key of F major. Yet the first bar is in C minor, minor key of the dominant, and the second in D minor, relative minor of the principal key. There were, no doubt, respecters of tonality also in Emmanuel Bach's day, to whom such free measures must have seemed foolhardy. While composing the sonata, Bach was apparently in daring mood. The slow middle movement in D minor opens with an inversion of the dominant ninth, and the finale in F, thus. Of the character of the first section of movements in binary form, we have already spoken in the introductory chapter. In the matter of development, the Bach sonatas are, in one respect, particularly striking. The composer seems to have resolutely turned away from the fugal style, and in doing so, probably found himself somewhat hampered. Like the early Florentine reformers, Bach was breaking with the past, and with a mightier past than the one on which the Florentines turned their back. Like them, he too was occupied with a new form. Not the music itself of the first operas, but the spirit which prompted them. Is what we now admire. In E Bach II, especially when viewed in the light of subsequent history, we at times take the will for the deeds. We meet with much the same kind of development as in Scarlatti. Phrases and passages taken bodily from the first section are repeated on different degrees of the scale, extensions of phrases, and passage writing based on some figure from the exposition, etc. The short development section of the sonata in G, collection number six, offers examples of the three methods of development just mentioned. Bach, like Scarlatti, was a master of his instrument, and even when, as was said of Mendelssohn, he had nothing particular to say, he always managed to say that little well. E Bach has already much to suffer in the inevitable comparison with Beethoven, and the fact that we have the full message of the one, but not of the other, no doubt accentuates the difference. In many ways Bach reminds one of Beethoven, there are unexpected fortes and pianos, unexpected crescendos and diminuendos. Of such, the noble L'Arghetto in F minor in the sonata of F, collection 1779 number two, offers indeed several fine examples. Particularly we would notice the passage just before the return of the opening theme. It begins fortissimo, but there is a gradual decrease to pianissimo. The latter seems somewhat before its time, and therefore surprises. Then again we meet with Out of the Way modulations. Bach was extremely fond of enharmonic transitions. Footnote, see particularly the sonata in G, collection of 1783, end of footnote, and the same can be said of Beethoven in both his early and his late works. The means employed by the two composers may be the same, but the effect is, of course, always more striking in Beethoven, whose thoughts were deeper, and whose means of expressing them were in every way more extended. And once again, in some of the forms of melody, in figures and passages, traces can be found of connection between the two masters. To our thinking, the bond of union between E. Bach and Beethoven is stronger than the oft-mentioned one between the early master and Haydn. Haydn was practically Bach's pupil, Beethoven his spiritual heir. This it is which gives interest to any outward resemblance which may be detected, not the resemblances themselves. In Bach's six sonatas of 1742, the movements are detached, but the opening movement at a Dante and sonata form of the second sonata of the Leipzig collection of 1779 ends with a few bars in canonic form, and with a quaint Bebong effect, leading without break to the following larghetto. The next sonata also connects the second with the third movement. In the above case, the change was merely from the key of tonic major to that of minor, but here the movement is in G minor, and an enharmonic modulation leads to the dominant of B minor, key of the final movement. The sonata begins in B minor, and the choice of the remote key of G minor for the middle movement is somewhat curious. Sonata number four connects first and second movements, and the third is evidently meant to follow without pause. It must however be remembered that the majority of the Leipzig sonatas do not have the various movements thus connected. It therefore seems to have been an experiment rather than a settled plan. Examples of the connection of movements are also to be found in Nickelman and JC F Bach. The same thing may be seen in some Haydn sonatas, numbers 18, 22, etc., while Beethoven offers a remarkable instance in his sonata, Opus 57. The first sonata of the second collection passes from the first to the second movement, Allegretto G minor, larghetto F sharp minor, in a curious manner by enharmonic means. The last bar has the quotation is in abbreviated form. The second chord would of course be taken at first as dominant minor ninth on G. The first sonata of the fourth collection is not striking as music, and certainly not of sufficient importance to justify serious inquiry into the peculiar order of keys for the three movements G, G minor and E major. With regard to the number of movements, all except two of the 18 sonatas have three. The second and third of the second collection have only two. John Christian Bach or the London Bach, as he was called, dedicated his fifth work, consisting of six sonatas Pauli Cleveson or Piano Forte, to Ernst Duke of Mecklenburg. This cannot have been before 1759, as that was the year in which the composer came to London. He describes himself on the title page as maître de musique des SM, la reine d'Angleterre. These sonatas, as we learn from the dedication, were written for the amusement of the Duke. The first, third and fourth each have only two movements. They remind us less of E Bach than of Haydn's early style. There is some very fresh pleasing writing in them. Number five has some excellent practicing passages, and perhaps the following may have suggested to Cramer his first study. The middle movement of number six is a vigorous double fugue. The whole sonata is indeed one of the finest of the set. A sonata indeed by Wilhelm Friedmann Bach is commented on by Dr. Perry in his sonata dictionary article. There is another one in C major, a fresh and vigorous example of a musician whose powers were never fully developed. The sonatas of Pietro Domenico Paradis, born 1710, a contemporary of E Bach, are of interest. They were published in London by John Johnson, and bear the title sonata di gravicembalo dedicate a sue al teza reale la principessa da pied Domenico Paradis napolitano. The edition bears no date, but the right of printing and selling granted by George II bears the date November 28th 1754. A second edition was published at Amsterdam in 1770. The sonatas are twelve in number and consist of only two movements of various character. Some have an allegro or presto, followed by a presto allegro or gig. And sometimes as in numbers nine and eleven, the second movement is an andante. In other sonatas, the first movement is in slow time. These two movement sonatas would seem to form an intermediate stage between Scarlatti and Immanuel Bach. As a matter of fact, however, the latter, as we have seen, had published Clavier sonatas in three movements long before the appearance of those of Paradis. In some of the movements in binary form, Paradis shows an advantage on Scarlatti, C numbers one and ten, for in the second section there is a return of the modulation to the principal theme. Some have the theme and the dominant key at the commencement of that section, others not. Thus we see various stages represented in these sonatas. The music is delightfully fresh and, from a technical point of view, interesting. The influence of Scarlatti, both in letter and spirit, is strongly felt. In some of the movements, compare first movement of number eight and of number twelve, there is a feature which Paradis did not inherit from Scarlatti, i.e. the so-called Alberti bass. Of such a bass, Scarlatti gives only slight hints. Alberti, said to have been its inventor, was a contemporary of Paradis, and the latter may have learnt the trick from him. There are many other examples of its use. In Alberti, Otto Sinate Opera Prima, footnote, all of these consist of two movements. In the first, both movements are marked and dante, end of footnote. The opening allegro of number two has in it 44 of the 46 bars of which it consists, and, besides, each section is repeated. That convenient form of accompaniment soon came into vogue. It occurs frequently in the sonatas and concertos of J. C. Bach and Haydn, but it is in the works of second rate composers that one sees the full use, or rather, abuse made of it. Number eight of the Paradis sonatas is particularly attractive, and the second movement forms a not unpleasant reminiscent of Handel's so-called harmonious blacksmith variations. End of chapter four, recording by Jordan Watts, Oxfordshire. Chapter five of the Piano Forte Sonata by John South Shedlock. The sleeper Vox recording is in the public domain. Haydn and Mozart. One, Haydn. This composer, to whom is given the name of Father of the Symphony and the Quartet, was born at Rorau, a small Austrian village on the Leitha, in the night between the 31st of March and the 1st of April, 1732. At a very early age, the boy's sweet voice attracted the notice of G. Reuter, Capelmeister of St. Stephen's Vienna, and for many years he sang in the Cathedral Choir. In 1749 he was dismissed, the alleged cause being a practical joke played by him on one of his fellow choristers. He was, as Sir G. Grove relates in his article Haydn, in The Dictionary of Music and Musicians, thrown upon the world with an empty purse, a keen appetite, and no friends. Haydn took up his abode in an attic in the old Micaela House. But it chants that Metastazio lived in the same building, and the famous poet took an interest in the penniless composer, and, among other things, taught him Italian. Metastazio was extremely fond of music, and we know from his letters that the flowing compositions of his countrymen delighted him more than the learned music of Germany. Then Haydn made the acquaintance of Porpora, who gave him instruction in composition and in the art of singing, and he also is supposed to have studied the works of San Martini, an Italian composer in the service of Prince Estahasi. In addition, Italian music was much played and much admired in Vienna. Emanuel Bach, also, as we have seen, came under Italian influence, but not until he had finished his studies under his father's guidance. Once more, we may conclude that Haydn, before he commenced writing Clavier Sonatas, had made acquaintance with those of Paradis and of Alberti. These early Italian influences should be noted, for one is apt to think rather of the young composer as plodding through Fuchs's gradus and playing Emanuel Bach's sonatas on his little worm-eaten clavier. During his last years, Haydn told his friend Greisinger that he had diligently studied Emanuel Bach, and that he owed very much to him. From the painter Dies, in his biographical notice of the master, we also learn how fond he was of playing Emanuel Bach's sonatas. And this influence was undoubtedly not only a strong but a lasting one. In 1788, the year in which Ebach died, Haydn wrote to Artaria, begging the latter to send that master's last two works for Clavier. In reference to Haydn, musicians are apt to speak merely of his sonatas, while those of Beethoven are generally described by their key or their opus number, or as belonging to one of the three periods into which that master's artwork is usually divided. There is good reason for this difference. Haydn's sonatas are not of equal importance with those of his successor, and then some are old-fashioned, other's second rate. Beethoven's sonatas are by no means all of equal merit, yet there is not one but has some feature, whether a form, or development, or technique, by which it may be distinguished. And yet a close and careful study of Haydn's sonatas will show that he too had his periods of apprenticeship, mastery, and maturity. Led not our readers take alarm, we are not going to analyse his 35 sonatas, or to enter into minute details. But we shall try by selecting some of the most characteristic works to show how the master commenced, continued, and concluded. The earliest of the published sonatas, footnote, for the benefit of readers who may not possess Paul's Jay Haydn, we insert in brackets, after the poll numbers, those of the Holler edition. End of footnote. Number one, 33, is somewhat of a curiosity. It consists of four movements, an Allegro in G major, a Minuetto and Trio, G major and minor, and a Daggio in G minor, and an Allegro Molto in G major. It is the only sonata of Haydn's which contains four movements. The plaintive Trio and Scarlatti-like finale are attractive. In the year 1774, J.J. Hommel, at Amsterdam, published six sonatas, the last three of which appear to have been originally written for piano forte and violin. Footnote. Compare C.F. Paul's Jay Haydn, volume two, page 311. They are in the keys of D, E-flat, and A, and are interesting. The tempo du Minuetto of the second presents a strict canon in the octave. In the last two, there is a curious canon. End of footnote. And in 1776, six more were printed by Longman and Broderick as Opus 14. These may serve as specimens of Haydn's early style, and in them, by the way, the composer was accused of imitating, nay, caricaturing, E. Bach. In the European magazine for October 1784, there appeared an account of J.J. Haydn, a celebrated composer of music, in which occurs the following. Amongst the number of professors who wrote against our rising author was Philippe Emmanuel Bach of Hamburg, formerly of Berlin, and the only notice Haydn took of their scurrility and abuse was to publish lessons written in imitation of the several styles of his enemies, in which their peculiarities were so closely copied, and their extraneous passages, particularly those of Bach of Hamburg, so inimitably burlesqueed that they all felt the poignancy of his musical wit confessed its truth and were silent. Further on, the writer mentions the sonatas of Opus 13 and 14 as expressly composed in order to ridicule Bach of Hamburg. Nay, he points to the second part of the second sonata in Opus 13 and the whole of the third sonata in the same work by way of special illustration. There are many resemblances to E. Bach in Haydn, notes wide apart, Paul's bars, surprise modulations, etc. This is not more extraordinary than to find resemblances between Mozart and Beethoven, but the charge of caricature seems unfair. Besides, it is scarcely likely that Haydn, who owed so much to Bach, would have done any such thing. It must be remembered that at the date of the European magazine in question, E. Bach had not yet published any of the six Leipzig collections, Zanat and Foukenna, etc., by which he is best known at the present day. Of the six sonatas, Opus 13, the first three are Numbers 8, 26, 9, 27, 10, 28 in Paul's thematic catalogue, Josef Haydn, Volume 2. The other three have not been reprinted in modern collections. In the first three, the keys and order of movements are as follow. Number one, Allegro Moderato in C, Adagio, F, Finale, Presto. Number two, Allegro Moderato in E, Adante, E minor, Finale, Tempo di Menuetto. Number three, Allegro Moderato in F, Lugetto, E minor, Presto. These sonatas are interesting as music and the workmanship is skillful. If one can get over the thinness of the part writing, especially in the slow movements, there is much to enjoy in them. The style of movement, Tempo di Menuetto in number two, recalls Emanuel Bach's Württemberg sonatas of 1745. Here are the numbers of the sonatas of Opus 14, 11, 20, 12, 21, 13, 22, 14, 23, 15, 24, 16, 25. And here are the keys and movements. Number one, Allegro Congrio in G, Minuetto, G, Trio, G minor, Presto. Number two, Allegro Moderato in E flat, Minuetto, E flat, Trio, E flat minor, Presto. Number three, Moderato in F, Adagio, B flat, Tempo di Menuetto. Number four, Allegro in A, Adagio, Tempo di Menuetto con variazioni. Number five, Moderato in E, Presto. Number six, Allegro Moderato in B minor, Tempo di Menuetto, Presto. During the 18th century, both in Italy and Germany, sonatas in two movements were common, but with Haydn the reduction in number five probably was made on practical and not artistic grounds. Schindler once asked Beethoven why he had only two movements to his sonata in C minor, Opus 111, and the master replied probably with a twinkle in his eye that he had not had time for a third. If these sonatas of 1776 be compared with earlier ones, 1767, an immense improvement in the development sections will be observed. In the earliest but one of the master's sonatas, number two, 30, the whole of the middle section is in the principal key. Number four, Opus 14, has all three movements connected, a plan as we have already seen, adopted by E bark in some of his sonatas. The sonata in question is in the key of A major. The Allegro ends with an arpeggio dominant chord, and still in the same bar follows the dominant chord of the relative key of F sharp minor, leading directly to the adagio. This movement, in its turn, closes on the dominant chord of A, the key of course of the final movement, tempo diminuito con variazioni. In 1780, six sonatas were published by Artaria and dedicated to the sisters Francesca and Marianne von Auenbrugge. They are numbers 20, 1, 21 to 24, 10 to 13, and 7, 14. Number 20, 1, is a bright little work. Number 22, 10, C sharp minor, opens with an interesting movement. Footnote, the treble of the 10th bar of the second section has been frequently printed a third too high. End of footnote, the sonata ends with a beautiful menuetto and trio, in which the composer comes very near to Beethoven. The middle movement is a schatzando, and thereby hangs a little tail. Number 24, 13, commences with the same theme. When Haydn sent the sonatas to his publisher, he called attention to this resemblance, and in fact requested that it should be mentioned on the inner side of the title page. And he added, I could, of course, have chosen a hundred other ideas in place of this one, but in order not to run any risk of blame on account of this intentional trifle, which the critics, and especially my enemies, will regard in a bad light, I make this avertismo. Or please add some note of a similar kind, otherwise it may prove detrimental to the sale. Number 22, 11, has an opening allegro in Haydn's brightest manner. The short lago is quaint and expressive. The fortissimo chord of the Neapolitan 6th is a fine effect. The movement ends on the dominant chord, and thus leads without break into the lively presto finale. The concluding movement of the next sonata displays a crispness and vigor, which remind one of Haydn's great successor. Already in connection with these six sonatas we have mentioned Beethoven. And from this period onwards the kinship between the two composers becomes more evident. Haydn, however, did not, like Beethoven, rise steadily higher and higher. Great movements came as it were by fits and starts. He wrote in season and out of season. Nulle dies sine linea seems to have been his motto. With Beethoven, a later work, unless it be one of his few pièce d'occasion, means a fuller revelation of his genius. We now pass on to the latest period, represented by two great sonatas, both in the key of E-flat. The one was written by the composer's friend and patron, Frau von Genzinger. The opening Allegro shows earnest, deep feeling, while at the close of the recapitulation, Haydn makes us feel the full power of his genius. The passage irresistibly recalls moments in the first movement of the appassionata. Though stately reiterated chords, though solemn pauses, have a touch of mystery about them. It is interesting to see how the second theme is evolved from the principal subject of the movement. By a slight modification, the character of the music is quite changed. What was stately is now light and graceful. The Adagio Cantabile is one of the purest examples of a style of music that has become a thing of the past. The full and sustained tone of modern instruments has rendered unnecessary those turns, arpeggios and numerous ornaments with which the composers of the last century tried to make amends for the fleeting tones of their harpsichords and clavichords. Haydn and Mozart were skillful in this art of embellishment, although sometimes it was unduly profuse. This Adagio Haydn's is a model of sobriety. The bold minor section, which Frau von Genzinger, by the way, found rather troublesome to play, offers an effective contrast to the major. A graceful tempo diminueto brings the work to an effective close. The other sonata in Eb, Opus 78, was dedicated to Mrs Bartolozzi, wife of the famous engraver, and to her, Haydn also dedicated one in C major, marked as Opus 79, a bright, clever and showy work in which the influence of Clementi is sensibly felt. The development section of the opening Allegro, together with the return to the principal theme, is interesting. The Adagio, in the key of the subdominant, is one of Haydn's best, while the final movement, Allegro Motto, is full of life and humour. End of footnotes. Is much more difficult to play. The writing is fuller and it contains passages which even a modern pianist need not disdain. It is really strange that the sonata is not sometimes heard at the popular concerts. In the opening Allegro, the exposition section contains more than the two orthodox themes, and the development section assumes considerable magnitude. The latter is full of clever details and bold modulations. The key of the Adagio is E major, but this is of course the enharmonic equivalent of F flats. Brahms, in his Lassenata for Violoncello and Pianoforte in F, has the slow movement in F sharp. This has been spoken of as a novelty, yet Haydn, as we see, had already made the experiment, and similar instances may be found in Schubert and Beethoven, though not in their Pianoforte sonatas. The finale presto reminds one by the style of writing, and by a certain quaint humour of Immanuel Bach, but there are some bold touches, swatzandos on unaccented beats, prolongation of phrases, long dwelling on one harmony, etc., which anticipate Beethoven. Traces of the past, foreshadowings of the future, these are the familiar facts in evolution. Two. Mozart. Before Mozart had reached the age of twenty, he wrote six sonatas for a certain Baron Durnitz, who, by the way, forgot to send the promised payment in return. Of these, Otto Jahn remarks that their healthy freshness and finished form entitle them still to be considered as the best foundation for a musical education. Freshness is indeed the best term to describe both the thematic material and the developments. Four of them, numbers one, two, three, and five, consist of the usual three movements. Number four commences with a longer dagio in two sections, each of which is repeated. Two graceful minuets, the second taking the place of a trio, follow. And the third movement is an allegro in sonata form. Number six has for its second movement a rondo on pollinés, and for its third a theme with variations. The rondo of number three, in B-flat, is unusually long. It contains two episodes, one in the relative minor, the other in the subdominant. The next three sonatas, in C, A minor, and D, are of greater importance. They are all said to have been written at Mannheim. The first was most probably the one mentioned in a letter of 1777, written by Mozart to his father. He describes a public concert given on the 22nd of October, and says, then I played alone the last sonata in D, then my concerto in B-flat, then a fugue in C minor, and a splendid sonata in C major out of my own head, with a rondo at the end. The last sonata in D was the last of the set of six noticed above. In reference to the sonata in C, the expression out of my own head would seem to indicate that it had not at that time been written out. Mozart was right to speak of the work as splendid. The bold opening subject, the well-contrasted second theme, the short but masterly development, the original leading back to the principal subject, and the many variations in the recapitulation section fully justify his qualification. The slow movement is full of charm, and the rondo, with its elaborate middle section, is of the highest interest. The second sonata in A minor is, next to the one in C minor, Mozart's finest effort in this department of musical literature, and there is a story connected with it. Capralmeister Canabix's eldest daughter Rosa had captivated the young composer. He wrote to his father about her and described her as a pretty charming girl, and added she has a staid manner and a great deal of sense for her age. The young lady was only 13. She speaks but little, and when she does speak it is with grace and amiability. On the very next day, after his arrival in Mannheim, he began to write this sonata for her. The Allegro was finished in one day. Young Dana, the violinist, asked him about the adante, and Mozart replied, I mean to make it exactly like Mademoiselle Rose herself. This was the picture to which he worked. One of Beethoven's finest sonatas, the C sharp minor, was inspired by a beautiful girl, a strong appeal to the emotions caused for the composer's best powers. Mozart's first movement was written on the 31st of October, and the rondo on the 8th of November. The Allegro Maistoso presents many points of interest. The opening theme with its dotted motive is prominent throughout the movement. The transition passage to the key of the relative major is based on it, and so is the coda to the exposition section. Again, in the development and recapitulation sections it forms a striking feature, while in the final coda it is intensified by reiteration of the dotted figure, and also by the rise from the dominant to the tonic. The slow movement with its expressive themes, graceful ornamentation, and bold middle section was not surpassed by Mozart even in his C minor sonata. The presto closes the work in worthy manner. It forms a contrast to the first movement, and yet it is allied to it in sentiment. The passionate outburst at the close, with its repeated ease, seems almost a reminiscent of the Allegro theme. There are two features in the development section of that movement which points to Beethoven. The one is the augmentation in the seventh bar of the Quaver figure in the two preceding bars. The other, the phrase containing the shake which is evolved from an earlier one by curtailment of its first note. The third sonata, though in many ways attractive, will not bear comparison with the other two. In 1779 at Vienna Mozart composed, among other sonatas, the beautiful one in A major, the first example perhaps of a sonata commencing with a theme and variations. This first movement is very charming, but the gem of the work is the delicate menuetto. The trio speaks in tender regretful tones of some happy past. The alla turca is lively, but not far removed from the commonplace. From among the symphonies of Mozart, the three in G minor, E flat and C, which he wrote in 1788, stand out with special prominence, and so from the sonatas, do the three in A minor 1778, C minor 1784 and F 1788. In the first, as regards the writing, virtuosity asserts itself, and in the third, contrapuntal skill. But in the second, the greatness of music makes us forget the means by which that greatness is achieved. The sonatas in A minor and F are wonderful productions, yet they stand a little lower than the C minor. The nobility and earnestness of the last named gives it a place near to Beethoven's best sonatas. We might say equal, where it not that the writing of the instrument is comparatively thin, however noble the ideas, they are but inadequately expressed. This C minor sonata is remarkable for its originality, simplicity and unity. Mozart possessed qualities which mark creative art of the highest kind. In writing some of his pianoforte sonatas, he had the public or pupils more or less in his mind, and though he did not become a mere sonata maker, like some of his contemporaries, his whole soul was not always in his work. Of this, the inequalities in his music give evidence. In some movements, especially the closing ones, of the sonatas, the subject mazer is often trivial, and the passage writing commonplace. The silk worm produces its smooth, regular ball of silk without effort, and in like manner Mozart could turn out alegros, rondos, sets of variations, a distraction. This sonata in C minor, to our thinking, is the only one in which he was entirely absorbed in his art, the only one in which the ideal is never marred by the real. The last movement is known mere rondos, but one which stands in close relationship to the opening alegros. They both have the same tragic spirit, both seem the outpouring of a soul battling with fate. The slow movement reveals Mozart's gift of melody and graceful ornamentation. Yet beneath the latter runs a vein of earnestness. The theme of the middle section expresses subdued sadness. The affinity between this work and Beethoven's sonata, Opus 10, number one, in the same key is very striking. Mozart composed his C minor sonata towards the end of the year 1784. The C minor fantasia, which precedes it in some editions, was not written until the middle of 1785. The two, however, were published together by Mozart himself. It is impossible to consider this a new experiment in sonata form, as regards grouping of movements, the unity of character and feeling between fantasia and sonata no doubt led to their juxtaposition. The fantasia is practically complete in itself, so too is the sonata. The two are printed separately in Breitkopf and Hartel's edition of Mozart's work. Haydn and Mozart represent an important stage in sonata history. They stand midway between Emmanuel Bach and Beethoven. It is usual to look upon Bach as the founder, Haydn and Mozart as the builders up, and Beethoven as the perfecter of the sonata edifice, such as summing up is useful in that it points to important landmarks in the evolution of the sonata. Yet it is only a rough and ready one. Bach was something more than a founder, while Beethoven, to say the least, shook the foundations of the edifice. Haydn and Mozart would seem to be fairly described, for traces of scaffolding are all too evident in their works, yet they found the building already raised. Some of it, however, appeared to them in Rococo style, and so they gradually rebuilt, and they not only altered but enlarged and strengthened. Of rebuilding and alteration, their slow movements and finales give evidence, and of enlargement, all the three sections of movement in so-called sonata form. Their subject matter, as it grew in importance, grew in compass. This in itself, of course, enlarged the exposition section, but the transition passage from first to second theme, and the rounding off of the section, both grew in proportion. The joints, too, of the structure was strengthened. The half cadence no longer sufficed to divide first from second subject, or, after development, to return to the principal theme. Then, again, the wider scope of the development itself demanded more striking harmonies, more forceful figuration, and more varied cadences. The subject matter, we have said, became more important. It differed also in character. The themes of Immanuel Bach, for the most part, seemed to be evolved from harmonic progressions and groupings of notes. Those of his successors, rather the source went spring's melody and figuration. The one uttered broken phrases, the others, complete musical sentences. Italian fashion prevailed during the second half of the 18th century, much as it did in the first. The simple charm and warmth of the music of the violin composers had penetrated the contrapuntal style which covered Immanuel Bach's heart, and the feeling that he could never hope to rival his father must have rendered him all the more willing to yield to it. But the influence of his father could not be wholly cast aside, and Immanuel was, as it were, drawn in opposite directions. It is really wonderful what he actually achieved. True lovers of John Sebastian Bach know well that his music, though of a contrapuntal character, is by no means dry. But the formal aspect of it must have made its mark on the son ere he could feel the power, and realise the splendour of his father's genius. Haydn and Mozart, on the other hand, were born and bred in the very midst of Italian music. Of Haydn's early days we have already spoken, and those of Mozart's were not unsimilar. Otto Jan, in his life of that composer, says of the father Leopold that his ideas were firmly rooted in the traditions of Italian music, so firmly indeed that he could not appreciate the mild innovations of a gluck. This paternal influence was deepened, besides, by Mozart's early visits to Italy. Then, again, so far as we can make out, the clavier compositions of John Sebastian Bach, and especially the well-tempered clavier, were unknown both to Haydn and Mozart in their days of childhood and early manhood. What a difference in the case of Beethoven, who, it will be remembered, could play the greater number of the 48 preludes and fugues before he was 12 years of age. The beauty of Italian music not only impressed Haydn and Mozart, but kindled their creative faculties. While its simple, rhythmical character probably aided them materially in giving utterance to their thoughts and feelings, nature had bestowed on them in which measure the gift of melody, and they soon began to compose. Emmanuel Bach, we have said, was drawn in two opposite directions. Haydn and Mozart, though they were spared this dual influence, had, however, to face a difficulty. They found a form ready to hand, yet one which, as we have attempted to show, required modifications of various kinds. The former had to make the old fit in with the new, but the latter the new with the old. Hence, their inspiration was handicapped. They were, to some extent, constructing as well as creating, and then their sense of order, balance and proportion was so strong that they often turned out movements more remarkable for their clearness of form than for the strength of their contents. Mozart profited by Haydn's early attempts, and his best sonatas are vastly superior to most of Haydn's. After Mozart's death, and even for some years before, Haydn seems to have caught much of the spirit of the young composer. He showed this especially in his London symphonies, but also in one or two of his later sonatas. This mutual reaction, says Jan, so generously acknowledged by both musicians, must be taken into account in forming a judgment on them. Haydn, though fully conscious of his powers, practically acknowledged the superiority of his brother-artist. On learning of Mozart's death, he exclaimed, posterity will not see such a talent for a century to come, a prophecy which, at the time it was uttered, seemed likely of fulfilment.