In 1780 six sonatas were published by Artaria, and dedicated to the sisters Franziska and Marianne v. Auenbrugger. They are Nos. 20 (1), 21-24 (10-13), and 7 (14). No. 20 (1) is a bright little work. No. 21 (10) (C sharp minor) opens with an interesting movement.[75] The sonata ends with a beautiful Menuetto and Trio, in which the composer comes very near to Beethoven. The middle movement is a Scherzando, and thereby hangs a little tale. No. 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 avertissement. Or please add some note of a similar kind, otherwise it may prove detrimental to the sale." No. 22 (11) has an opening Allegro in Haydn's brightest manner. The short Largo is quaint and expressive; the ff chord of the Neapolitan sixth is of fine effect. The movement ends on the dominant chord, and thus leads without break to the lively Presto Finale. The concluding movement of the next sonata displays a crispness and vigour which remind one of Haydn's great successor. Already in connection with these six sonatas have we 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 moments came, as it were, by fits and starts. He wrote in season and out of season; nulla dies sine linea seems to have been his motto. With Beethoven, a later work, unless it be one of his few pièces d'occasion, means a fuller revelation of his genius.
We will now pass on to the latest period, represented by two great sonatas, both in the key of E flat. The one was written for the composer's friend and patron, Frau v. Genziger. 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"; those stately reiterated chords, those 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 which 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 skilful in this art of embellishment, though sometimes it was unduly profuse; this Adagio of Haydn's is a model of sobriety. The bold minor section, which Frau v. Genziger, by the way, found rather troublesome to play, offers an effective contrast to the major. A graceful Tempo di Menuetto brings the work to an effective close. The other Sonata in E flat[76] 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 flat. Brahms, in his last Sonata 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 Emanuel Bach; but there are some bold touches—sforzandos 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 familiar facts in evolution.
II.—Mozart
Before Mozart had reached the age of twenty he wrote six sonatas for a certain Baron Dürnitz, 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 (Nos. 1, 2, 3, and 5) consist of the usual three movements; No. 4 commences with a long Adagio 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. No. 6 has for its second movement a Rondeau en Polonaise, and for its third, a Theme with variations. The Rondo of No. 3 (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 2nd 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. Capellmeister Cannabich'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 thirteen); 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 Danner, the violinist, asked him about the Andante, and Mozart replied: "I mean to make it exactly like Mdlle. 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 calls forth a composer's best powers. Mozart's first movement was written on 31st October, and the Rondo on 8th November. The Allegro maestoso 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 is allied to it in sentiment. The passionate outburst at the close, with the repeated E's, seems almost a reminiscence of the Allegro theme. There are two features in the development section of that movement which point 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 3rd 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 give it a place near to Beethoven's best sonatas. We might say equal, were it not that the writing for 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-matter is often trivial, and the passage-writing commonplace. The silkworm produces its smooth, regular ball of silk without effort, and in like manner Mozart could turn out Allegros, Rondos, sets of variations à discretion. The 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 no mere Rondo, but one which stands in close relationship to the opening Allegro; 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 (Op. 10, No. 1) 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 & Härtel's edition of Mozart's works.
Haydn and Mozart represent an important stage in sonata history: they stand midway between Emanuel 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 a 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 movements 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 were 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 forcible figuration, and more varied cadences.
The subject-matter, we have said, became more important; it differed also in character. The themes of Emanuel Bach, for the most part, seem to be evolved from harmonic progressions and groupings of notes; those of his successors, rather the source whence springs melody and figuration. The one uttered broken phrases; the others, complete musical sentences. Italian fashion prevailed during the second half of the eighteenth century much as it did in the first. The simple charm and warmth of the music of the violin-composers had penetrated the contrapuntal crust which covered Emanuel 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 Emanuel 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 were not unsimilar. Otto Jahn, 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 forty-eight Preludes and Fugues before he was twelve 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 rich measure the gift of melody, and they soon began to compose.