The change from tonic to dominant and back, with the few timid modulations in the second section, offered practically all the contrast and variety there was within the limits of a single piece. Except in the sarabande, the musical texture was woven in a flowing style. The effect is one of constant motion. A figure, not a theme, predominated. The opening figure, it is true, was modified, often gave way to quite a different figure in the dominant key; but the style remained always the same, and there was but the slightest suggestion of contrast in the way one figure glided into another.
In the suite as a whole, the uniformity of key which ruled over all four movements precluded in the main all contrast but the contrast of rhythm. Yet a few peculiarities of style became associated with each of the dances and thus gave more than rhythmical variety to the whole. The counterpoint of the allemande, for example, was more open and more dignified, so to speak, than that of the fleet, sparkling Italian courante. In the French courante a counterpoint of dotted quarters and eighths prevailed, and a shifting between 6/4 and 3/2 rhythm stamped the movement with a rhythmic complexity not at all present in the other movements. The second section of the gigue was almost invariably built upon an inversion of the figures of the first section, and the solid chord style of the sarabande not only contrasted radically with the style of allemande, courante, and gigue, but, moreover, beguiled composers into the expression of personal emotion now noble, now tender, which put sarabandes in general in a class by themselves amid the music of that time.
Though the normal suite was constituted of these four dances in the order we have named, other dances came to find a place therein. Of these the favorites were gavottes, minuets, bourrées, loures, passepieds, and others; and they were inserted in any variety or sequence between the sarabande and the gigue. Sometimes in place of extra dances, or among them, is to be found an air or aria, the salient quality of which is not rhythm, but melody, usually highly ornamented in the style made universally welcome by the Italian opera. More rarely the air was simple and was followed by several variations. The best known of these airs and variations which were incorporated into suites is probably Handel’s famous set upon a melody, not his own, which has long gone by the name of ‘The Harmonious Blacksmith.’ By the beginning of the eighteenth century many composers were accustomed to begin their suites with a prelude, usually in harmonic style.
In the music of the great French lutenists and clavecinists of the seventeenth century the suite never crystallized into a stereotyped sequence. The principle of setting together several short pieces in the same key was none the less clearly at work, though nothing but the fancy of the composer seems to have limited the number of pieces which might be so united. On the other hand, the idea of emphasizing rhythm as the chief element of contrast within the suite was often secondary to the idea of contrasting mood. How much of this contrast of mood was actually effective it is hard to say, but the great number of little pieces composed either for lute or clavecin in France of the seventeenth century, were given picturesque or fanciful names by their composers.
This custom was firmly established by the great lutenist, Denis Gaultier, whose collection of pieces, La rhétorique des dieux, comprises some of the most exquisite and most beautifully worked music of the century. The pieces in the collection are grouped together by modes; but the modes by this time have become keys, and differ from each other in little except pitch. The greater part of the pieces are given names, borrowed for the most part from Greek mythology. Phaèton foudroyé, and Juno, ou la jalouse are indicative of the general tone of them.
Close upon Gaultier’s pieces for lute came the harpsichord pieces of Jacques Champion, son of a family of organists, who took upon himself the name of Chambonnières. Two books of his pieces were published in 1670. Here again the pieces are grouped in keys, in, however, no definite number; and, though most have still only dance names to distinguish them, many are labelled with a title.
In spite of these titles, the tendency to call upon an external idea to aid in the construction of a piece of music is not evident in this early harpsichord music. There is little attempt at picture drawing in music. The names are at the most suggestive of a mood, indicative of the humor which in the composer gave birth to the music, hints to the listener upon the humor in which he was to take it. The structure of the music is independent of the titles, and is of a piece with the structure of the dance tunes which make up the German suite. The influence of this music was not important upon the growth of form, but upon the molding and refinement of style.
To be sure, a tendency toward realistic music crops out from time to time all through the seventeenth century. The twitter of birds no less than the roar of battle was attempted by many a composer, resulting, in the case of the latter especially, in hardly more than laughably childish imitations. Further than this composers did not often go until, just before Bach entered upon his professional career, J. F. Kuhnau, of Leipzig, published his extraordinary Biblical sonatas. Besides these, the ‘Rhetoric of Gods,’ the ‘Hundred Varieties of Musical Fruit,’ the ‘jealous ladies’ and the ‘rare ladies,’ even the battles and the gossips, all of which have been imitated in music, appear conventional and absolute. Here is narrative in music and a flimsiness of structure which is meaningless without a program. There are six of these strange compositions, upon the stories of David and Goliath, of David and Saul, of Jacob and Leah, and others. Some years later they undoubtedly suggested to Sebastian Bach the delicate little capriccio which he wrote upon the departure of his brother for the wars. Apart from this they are of slight importance except as indications of the experimental frame of mind of their composer. Indeed, beyond imitation and to a small extent description, neither harpsichord nor pianoforte music has been able to make much progress in the direction of program music.
Kuhnau’s musical narratives were published in August, 1700. Earlier than this he had published his famous Sonata aus dem B. The work so named was appended to Kuhnau’s second series of suites or Partien. It has little to recommend it to posterity save its name, which here appears in the history of clavier music for the first time. Nor does this name designate a form of music akin to the sonatas of the age of Mozart and Beethoven, a form most particularly associated with the pianoforte. Kuhnau merely appropriated it from music for string instruments. There it stood in the main for a work which was made up of several movements like the suite, but which differed from the suite in depending less upon rhythm and in having a style more dignified than that which had grown out of experiments with dance tunes. In addition, the various movements which constituted a sonata were not necessarily in the same key. Here alone it possessed a possible advantage over the suite. Yet though in other respects it cannot compare favorably to our ears with the suite, Kuhnau cherished the dignity of style and name with which tradition had endowed it. These he attempted to bestow upon music for the clavier.[6]
The various movements lack definite form and balance. The first is in rather heavy chord style, the chords being supported by a dignified counterpoint in eighth notes. This leads without pause into a fugue on a figure of lively sixteenth notes. The key is B-flat major. There follows a short adagio in E-flat major, modulating to end in C minor, in which key the last movement, a short allegro in triple time, is taken up. The whole is rounded off by a return to the opening movement, signified by the sign Da Capo.