Der Tonwille:

Pamphlets in Witness of
the Immutable Laws of
Music,
Volume I
HEINRICH SCHENKER
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
d e r t o n w i l l e
v o l u m e i
This page intentionally left blank
Der Tonwille
Pamphlets in Witness of the Immutable Laws of Music,
Oered to a New Generation of Youth by
HEI NRI CH SCHENKER
Semper idem sed non eodem modo
VOLUME I : Issues 15 (19211923)

Edi te d by Wi l l i am Drabki n
translated by
i an bent
wi lli am drabki n
j oseph dubi el
ti mothy jackson
j oseph lubben
robert snarrenberg
1
2004
1
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Schenker, Heinrich, 18681935.
[Tonwille. English]
Der Tonwille : pamphlets in witness of the immutable laws of music /
Heinrich Schenker ; edited by William Drabkin ; translated by Ian Bent . . . [et al.].
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0-19-512237-2
1. Schenkerian analysis. 2. MusicHistory and criticism. I. Drabkin, William.
II. Tonwille. III. Title.
MT6.S2874 T6513 2002
781dc21 2002019636
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 3 2 1
Printed in the United States of America
on acid-free paper
Heinrich Schenkers contributions to music theory and analysis have had a
powerful impact on the English-speaking academic world, and their importance,
a century after he embarked on his major projects in these elds, is perhaps even
greater than ever. In recent years, analysts and historical musicologists have
grasped the signicance not only of his techniques of analysis, as documented by
numerous voice-leading graphs of works from the Western musical canon, but
also the accompanying texts, which both clarify their meaning and help us to put
his contributions to music theory into historical perspective.
Since the publication of Der freie Satz in English, in 1979, there have been
complete translations of the two volumes on counterpoint, the monograph on
Beethovens Ninth Symphony, the three volumes of Das Meisterwerk in der Musik,
and several shorter writings. To date, only a small number of essays from the ten
issues of Der Tonwille, which date from the rst half of the 1920s, have been pub-
lished in English translation;
1
this publication represents the rst half of what
will be a complete English edition of the series.
Origins and History of the Project
Abrief discussion of the history of the Tonwille project, and a review of Schenk-
ers relationship with Universal Edition, may be in order at this point.
Schenkers association with Universal Edition began around 1902, with an
edition of Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach keyboard works, arrangements of Handel
organ concertos, and Ein Beitrag zur Ornamentik. Universal had been founded in
1901 to produce Austrian editions of the standard repertory that would compete
with those of Breitkopf & Hrtel and C. F. Peters in Leipzig, and it is interesting
to see Schenker as part of this initial missiona failing one by 1907, when Emil
Hertzka was appointed general manager either to liquidate the company or to
turn its fortunes around.
2
Hertzka must have appreciated Schenkers worth, for
he undertook the second edition of the Beitrag and also the Instrumententabelle
(both published 1908), the Bach Chromatic Fantasia edition in 1910, Beethovens
neunte Sinfonie in 1912, and the Erluterungsausgaben of late Beethoven sonatas
from 1913 on. Universal also took over Schenkers principal theoretical project,
the Neue Musikalische Theorien und Phantasien, from the Stuttgart rm of
J. G. Cotta, publishing the second volume of Kontrapunkt in 1922; by this time
they had taken over the imprint of the earlier volumes, and they completed the
series with the posthumous publication of Der freie Satz (1935).
Schenker, however, must soon have noted Universals change of policy: the re-
mark in the Preface to Kontrapunkt i (1910), On the one hand, J. S. Bach, Haydn,
Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann, Mendelssohn, Brahmssuch abun-
dance! Strauss, Ptzner, Humperdinck, Mahler, Regersuch poverty, might
be seen as a covert commentary on this change of direction. He might have
applauded Hertzkas encouragement and promotion of German and Austro-
Hungarian composers, which was worldwide, ruthless, and victorious.
3
How-
ever, many of the composers Universal took on, including Mahler and Strauss
and the members of the Second Viennese School, were modernists for whose
music Schenker had little sympathy; moreover, it promoted the music of such
v
General Preface
1
These include the rst part of the essay on Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Tonwille 1), translated
by Elliot Forbes and F. John Adams, Jr., and published in the Norton Critical Score of the symphony
(New York: W. W. Norton, 1971), pp. 164 82; the essay on Haydns Sonata in E
,
, Hoboken XVI:52 (Ton-
wille 3), translated by Wayne Petty, published in Theoria 3 (1988), pp. 10560; and the analysis of
Schuberts song Ihr Bild (Tonwille 1), in two versions: one, translated by William Pastille, in Sonus 6
(1986), pp. 3137, the other, by Robert Pascall, in Music Analysis 19 (2000), pp. 37. The Erluterun-
gen, a brief introduction to Schenkers theory of voice-leading, rst appeared in Tonwille 8/9 and
were reprinted in Tonwille 10 and Das Meisterwerk in der Musik i and ii; they were translated by Ian
Bent in Music Analysis 5 (1986), pp. 18791 and reprinted with modications in the English transla-
tion of Das Meisterwerk.
2
Hans Heinsheimer, Best Regards to Aida (New York: Knopf, 1968), pp. 1011.
3
Ibid., p. 11.
non-German composers as Bartk, Jancek, Kodly, Milhaud, Casella, and
Malipiero.
The journal is rst announced nine years before its eventual publication, in
the Preface to Beethovens neunte Sinfonie, which was probably written in spring
1912 (the book was released in September of that year). Implying that his edition
of C. P. E. Bach keyboard works, the Erluterungsausgabe of J. S. Bachs Chromatic
Fantasy and Fugue, the monograph on Beethovens Ninth Symphony, and the
forthcoming Erluterungsausgaben of Beethovens late piano sonatas constituted
his Big Library, he comments:
If the labors on my principal work somehow or other permit it, I plan to
recount, in brief, concise words in a Little Library to be newly founded,
those necessities that reign supreme in other masterworks of our geniuses.
The Little Library (Kleine Bibliothek) is discussed intermittently throughout
191320, and serves as the provisional title on the Tonwille contract of April 30/
July 30, 1920. By 1913 it has taken shape as a series of short analyses of master-
works, together with other essays, issued together between covers as a pamphlet,
possibly sold to the public in concert halls as a rival to Kretzschmars concert
guides. Works suggested by Schenker include some of those that would later ap-
pear in Tonwille and Meisterwerk (WSLB 149, 31813; WSLB 238, 2715; WSLB
242, 22615). Around New Year 1914, with war in Europe seeming imminent,
Schenker proposes the idea of a series of Flugschriften (literally leaets, a term
suggesting wide distribution, and public opinion-forming) to Universal Edition
(OC 2/5051), and receives a cordial welcome from Herztka (OC 52/138). In Feb-
ruary 1915, anticipating diculty in making headway with the Beethoven Er-
luterungsausgaben during the war, Schenker revives the project. Hertzka prema-
turely welcomes its rst year of operation in substitution for the Beethoven.
Op. 109 and Op. 110 had already appeared and Op. 111 would appear that year,
further work on Opp. 101 and 106 had become impossible under wartime con-
ditions, so their publication would be suspended until cessation of hostilities
(OC 52/555).
The Kleine Bibliothek/Flugschriften idea was thus envisioned as a gap-lling
series of wartime issues, perhaps starting in 1916. The modest size of each issue
and its exibility of publication schedule must have appealed to Hertzka; yet the
project is shelved once Schenkers demands as to the scope of the work and his
fees as its author are known (OC 52/556). In January 1917, the two men are again
in negotiations. Hertzka, unwittingly prophetic of the eventual title, declares
Where theres a will, theres a way, oering Schenker monthly payments of 200
Krone in return for ve to six short volumes during the coming year (OC 52/
5578). After further negotiations, however, the matter rests until Hertzka revives
it at the announcement of the conclusion of peace with Russia in March 1918 (OC
52/559)but still to no avail.
Three times the proposal is raised at New Year, the last time in 1920. Schenk-
ers attorney, Dr. Leo Fischmann, drafts the terms of contract, which are nally
agreed and signed in July. Issues would comprise two gatherings (i.e., thirty-two
pages), with a maximum of twelve issues a year. They would be published not ac-
cording to a strict schedule (als zwanglose Folge), and would examine various
topics in the eld of music, e.g., discussion of symphonic and chamber music,
song and piano works, as regards both content and performance, studies of per-
formance per se, critical essays, and miscellanea. Two thousand copies are to be
printed of each of the rst four issues, the shop price being two to four marks,
Schenker taking 20 percent of home and 30 percent of foreign sales, the contract
being for ten years renewable. Crucial for later disputes is the clause binding Uni-
versal Edition to respect my right to free expression of opinions without any
limitations, and not to change or condense the wording of the works on any
grounds under any circumstances without my agreement (OC 52/517).
Not until proofs of the rst issue are already in circulation does Hertzka
admit, on February 23, 1921, to having second thoughts about the title and sub-
title (OC 52/549), which appears to have stood as follows:
Kleine Bibliothek
Bltter zum Zeugnis unwandelbarer Gesetze der Tonkunst
einer neuen Jugend erlutert
(Little Library: leaves in witness to immutable laws of music, explained to a new
generation of youth.) Kleine Bibliothek might be misunderstood by the pub-
lic, and by the book and music trade. Hertzka toys with alternatives, including:
Flugbltter
zum Zeugnis unwandelbarer Gesetze der Tonkunst
(Pamphlets in witness to immutable laws of music). Schenker evidently rejects
this formulation, suggesting Der Fortschritt (Progress). Hertzka does not warm
to this, and asks how Schenker would feel about Tonschpfer or Tonschpfung or
some combination including one of these; or, if not, then how about Tonkunst-
Flugbltter or Tonwille-Flugbltter (OC 52/251). It is unclear whether the word
general preface
vi
Tonwille comes from Hertzka or has already been mooted by Schenker, but it is
interesting to see the publisher take so critical a role in the formulation of the
title. The matter is swiftly settled, and from April 1 on the work is consistently re-
ferred to in correspondence as Der Tonwille.
4
Perhaps the rst sign of the eventual troubles comes when, on December 30,
1920, Hertzka writes that he has just read the corrected proof of The Mission of
German Genius and has urgent need to speak with [Schenker] in this regard
(OC 52/561). Schenkers diary contains a report of that meeting: Hertzka says he
dare not publish the article for fear of oending his foreign readership. Then he
hits on the idea of creating a ctitious publishing house, so leaving Schenker free
to write whatever he wants. They agree, as can be seen from Schenkers diary
entry for January 5, 1921 (recorded in Hellmut Federhofer, Heinrich Schenker,
nach Tagebchern und Briefen [Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1985], p. 33).
The publishers imprint is not referred to in the contract. Hertzka discusses it
in a letter, suggesting Verlag der Tonkunst-Flugbltter, or Tonkunst Flugbltter-
Verlag (OC 52/549, 22321). The nal designation is Tonwille-Flugbltter-
verlag. We know from another source that Schenker had come to regard Univer-
sal as one of the betrayers from within that were his main target in Mission, for
in a draft of a letter sent in the autumn of 1921 to Paul von Hindenburg, the
revered elder statesman of Germany who would be elected president of the Wei-
mar Republic in 1925, he wrote:
. . . the publisherthe Tonwille-Verlag is a ctitious name, behind which
stands the major publisher who publishes my other works, but above all
operates internationallyfelt himself personally attacked, and also be-
lieved that his international business dealings (which he prefers to
honor) had been damaged. In the end, the publisher was obliged to give
up the ght. (OC 24/14)
Universal was a predominantly Jewish rm, and Schenker, himself Jewish, partic-
ularly condemned those Jews whom he saw as cosmopolitan and therefore dis-
loyal to the German-Austrian nation.
From Universals side, serious concerns were expressed about a year later, in
December 1921, when Schenker was warned that, because of the likely production
costs of Tonwille 2, the continuation of the article on Beethovens Fifth Symphony
would have to be deferred to Tonwille 3 if Schenker considered that the essays on
the Mozart A minor Sonata and Beethoven Op. 2 No. 1 had priority (OC 52/296).
In spring 1922, printing of the Miscellanea for Tonwille 2 was held up for lack
of an adequate supply of small type; but that only masked much greater concern
at the sheer bulk of Tonwille 2 (OC 52/296, 56263). Then came a blow from
Hertzka in May: he regretted that he would be unable to print the anthology
(i.e., the Miscellanea), most interesting though it is, in its entirety, because it
would make the issue unsaleable. Hertzka continued:
Permit me to point out that we envisioned the issues of Tonwille as com-
prising two gatherings, i.e. 32 pages. . . . Apart from that, our contract says
expressly that Die Kleinbibliothek [sic], i.e. Der Tonwille, examines various
topics in the eld of music. In the fourteen pages of Miscellanea, no top-
ics whatsoever in the eld of music are examined, but only topics in the
eld of politics and demagoguery. (OC 52/564 65)
While expressing the greatest respect for Schenker, he advocated dropping
the item altogether from Tonwille 2, leaving a forty-eight-page issue (the eventual
outcome), and expressed his willingness to include some of the Miscellanea
by mutual consent in Tonwille 3. In a rare and signicant confessional moment,
Hertzka wrote: I nd it impossible to believe that a genius-aristocracy would
ourish better in the context of imperialism and militarism than in the context
of democracy (OC/51213). This remark was made against the background of an
altercation between Schenker and Paul Bekker, a friend of Hertzka, who had in
February and April 1922 produced sharply critical reviews of Schenkers Erluter-
ungsausgaben in the journal Musikbltter des Anbruch (published by Universal
Edition) and his facsimile edition of Beethovens Moonlight Sonata in the
Frankfurter Zeitung, of which he was chief music critic (OC 2, p. 60). Schenker had
cut more than half of his nine-column critique of Bekker from the page proofs of
the Erluterungsausgabe of Op. 101 (OC 39/5153), presumably at Hertzkas insis-
tence, but subsequently appropriated a substantial portion of this text for a piece
entitled Musik-Kritik, adding a vigorous defense of his Moonlight facsimile
edition against Bekker (OC 39/3350), whose review had spoken of superuous
and sterile introductions by editors and had cited some of Schenkers ridiculous
commentary on Beethovens manuscript. If such personal expectoration has to
general preface
vii
4
Even before the publication details had been agreed on, Schenker was referring to his forth-
coming Kleine Bibliothek in the Erluterungsausgabe of Op. 101. He had already assigned it the ab-
breviation kl. Bibl. in his list of writings on the contents page; the foreword to the edition, on the
page opposite, is dated August 30, 1920. But publication of the sonata was held up until the spring of
1921, so that the list of abbreviations could accommodate the new title. (The publication date of 1920,
given in many sources, is an error.)
be published at all, Bekker wrote, then at least it is out-of-place in this context,
and immediately spoils the impression that such a publication ought to give.
Schenker envisaged Musik-Kritik as a further item of the Miscellanea originally
intended for Tonwille 2; again, Hertzka declined to publish it (OC 52/569).
By August 1922, Tonwille 3 was expected to present the conclusion of the Bee-
thoven Fifth Symphony essay and the deferred Miscellanea (with far too few
cuts, as Hertzkas colleague Dr. Alfred Kalmus observed in a later communica-
tion), making thirty-six pages in all. The fourth issue was, at Schenkers sugges-
tion, devoted to music for children, with Urlinie graphs of the Little Preludes of
J. S. Bach and other short pieces; it acquired the working subtitle Kinderheft
(volume for children) in the correspondence (OC 52/570), and, as initially con-
ceived, was not to contain any polemical material. However, by September, Ton-
wille 3 threatened to run to eighty pages with the arrival of Die Kunst zu hren
and an essay on a Haydn sonata.
5
Yet again, the Fifth Symphony continuation was
shunted back, this time to Tonwille 5. In the event, the Kinderheft became com-
promised by a sizeable Miscellanea, and three of the Bach preludes had to be de-
ferred to the following issue. (As a result, the Kinderheft straddles Tonwille 4
and 5, and neither volume refers to the special nature of the contents.) In Febru-
ary 1923, yet another crisis arose, as Hertzka red-penned some derogatory re-
marks by Schenker about Bekker, Kretzschmar, and others. Schenker, who had
accused Hertzka of terrorist censorship over the cuts in the Miscellanea pub-
lished in Tonwille 3, now accused him of being unjust, partisan, and terrorizing
(OC 52/57374).
Our review of the publication history of Der Tonwille and Schenkers relation-
ship with Universal will be continued in the second volume of this translation.
Survey of the Contents
Der Tonwille is a central workin several respects, the central workin the
Schenkerian canon. Publication began immediately following the appearance of
the fourth of the Beethoven Erluterungsausgaben in 1921, in which the concept
of Urlinie was introduced and rst explained. It borrows its overall approach to
musicthe close reading of scores, together with remarks on textual and inter-
pretative matters, and a survey of the secondary literaturefrom earlier publi-
cations, but the musical document on which readers are asked to focus their at-
tention is no longer the score (whether or not this was integral to the text, as in
the Erluterungsausgaben) but the Urlinie-Tafel that is supplied with each issue.
The Tonwille series is the immediate forerunner to Das Meisterwerk in der
Musik; indeed, despite the change of format, from occasional publication (Ton-
wille 16) to quarterly journal (Tonwille 710) to yearbook (Meisterwerk), the
two series oer an almost unbroken record of Schenkers most advanced analyt-
ical and theoretical work during the decade immediately following the rst con-
ceptualizing of the Urlinie. Although he welcomed the opportunity aorded by
Meisterwerk for the publication of longer essays, and took advantage of this in the
second and third yearbooks by publishing complete analyses of symphonies in
each, Schenker regarded the two titles as a single series: advertisements for his
work specically describe the Meisterwerk yearbooks as the continuation of the
Tonwille issues.
The order of events in the analytical essays in Der Tonwille is, to a large ex-
tent, derived from his earlier analytical and editorial work on the Beethoven sym-
phonies and sonatas. Matters of analysis (form, harmony, and counterpoint) are
generally followed by remarks on autograph materials and early editions, and on
editorial issues arising from them; recommendations on performance, in relation
to both the analytical and text-critical discussions that precede them; and nally
a dismissive survey of the secondary literature. Not every rubric can be applied to
every piecethe ideal here is middle- and late-period Beethoven, for which there
is usually some account of the sketches (for this, Schenker relied on the work of
the Beethoven scholar Gustav Nottebohm), an autograph manuscript, and an
enormous critical literature. But in all the longer essays, the close readings found
in an analysis at the beginning of an essay are balanced by a less technical and (in-
variably) more polemical consideration of other matters.
To the generations of musicologists trained in the techniques of making edi-
tions of old music, Schenkers text-critical work in the 1910s and 1920s will seem
primitive, and at times nave. No attempt was made at a stemmatic liation of the
sources, the chronological ordering that claries the stages by which a composers
ideas make their way toward publication. Yet, he was ahead of his time, both in
his insistence on using the best text of a work as the basis on which to understand
general preface
viii
5
Kalmuss letter refers to an Aufsatz ber die Haydn Sonaten, but the lead article of Tonwille 3
concerns just one work, the Sonata in E
,
, Hoboken XVI:52. (It is improbable that this essay once em-
braced the Sonata in C, Hob. XVI:35, the subject of one of the short essays in Tonwille 4 and a com-
panion piece to the essays on easy sonata movements by Mozart and Beethoven.)
and explain its meaning, and in his repeated pleas to respect the wishes of com-
posers in matters of performance. The discussion of textual matters can provide
a useful bond between the analysis, with which an essay begins, and the remarks
on performance, which will follow; the interconnections are sometimes extended
to the discussion of the secondary literature, especially where performers are con-
cerned (Czerny, Reinecke, Weingartner). Moreover, Schenker articulated a posi-
tion on textual criticism whose fullest realization is perhaps yet to come, namely,
that one must have the deepest understanding of structure in order to determine
the best reading of a musical text. This is expressed with the greatest force in the
paragraph introducing the text-critical commentary to Beethovens Sonata in
F minor, Op. 2, No. 1:
As little as one may say of Beethoven himself that he was merely practic-
ing musical philology when he sought the best notation, improved slurs,
etc., just as little may the work of an editor in this matter be regarded as
philology. It is rather of a purely artistic nature, and demands the full in-
terest of all those who want to make the content of the work of art truly
their own.
The analysis of individual works accounts for eighteen of the twenty-eight discrete
writings in the rst ve issues of Der Tonwille. Of these, two represent the major
part of what was conceived as a continuous essay on Beethovens Fifth Symphony,
which was completed in Tonwille 6 (dated 1923 but not issued until the spring of
1924) and which Universal Edition published separately as a seventy-three-page
monograph a year later.
Three of the essays, published successively across Tonwille 2 and 3, form a tril-
ogy on the piano sonatas of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. They follow the
order of composition (Schenker makes a point of saying so), and the procedures
of these masters are compared and contrasted with each other. In the discussion
of the secondary literature, the writings of Adolf Bernhard Marx and Hugo Rie-
mann are common targets of Schenkers contempt.
In Tonwille 4, the Viennese triumvirate of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven make
a further appearance, each with a movement from one of their easier sonatas. This
was the volume that Schenker and his publishers provisionally referred to as a
Kinderheft, not because it was specically designed for children to read but be-
cause the music discussed there served a largely didactic purpose, more suited to
the piano lesson than the concert hall, and the essaysall of them very short
were largely free of polemic.
6
One of Schenkers projects conceived along didactic
lines was a series of Urlinie graphs for Bachs twelve Little Preludes; this partic-
ularly appealed to Hertzka and Kalmus.
7
Schenker eventually completed seven of
these, each accompanied by a short essay: two appeared in Tonwille 4, three more
in the next issue, and a further three in the rst of the Meisterwerk yearbooks.
The inclusion of two essays on Emanuel Bach in Tonwille 4 is partly driven by
a personal agenda: one piece comes from a collection of easy pieces in binary
form published by Universal Edition in 1914as an Erluterungsausgabe!
under the editorship of Otto Vrieslander, who had been a pupil of Schenkers for
two years before the war and who became one of his most ardent champions
over the next two decades.
8
The other is taken from Schenkers own selection of
Emanuel Bachs keyboard works, which Universal had issued back in 1902.
The theoretical writings in Tonwille 15 are all short essays, ostensibly con-
cerned with such matters as musical structure, history, and perception; but they
are more philosophical in tone. With polemical sentiments lying not far from
the surface, Schenker sometimes digresses from the topic advertised in the title.
The Art of Listening begins as a dialogue between himself and a highly gifted
composer on the harmonic interpretation of a prelude from the Well-Tempered
Clavier, but later slips into an attack on editors who corrupt musical textsa
subject that Schenker was to treat with greater imagination and insight in the rst
Meisterwerk yearbook.
The sections that are most unashamedly polemical in tonethe lead article,
and four sets of Miscellaneaare also among the longest in Tonwille 15. To-
gether with Schenkers one-sided critique of the secondary literature on the music
he wrote about, they are usually dismissed as being of little relevance to his con-
general preface
ix
6
An early formulation of this project conrms this intention. In a letter to Hertzka in early May
1922 (OC 52/58990, Schenker proposes that Tonwille 4 should be dedicated to the very young, for
Christmas [an die Jngsten, zu Weihnachten], with analyses of works by Bach, Haydn and Mozart,
etc. This issue will be published ohne Vermischtes (these words are trebly underlined), that is, with-
out the usual polemics.
7
We greet with enthusiasm your idea of bringing out the Urlinien to Bachs Little Preludes in
succession (OC 52/570).
8
One of the few pupils of Schenker to achieve success as a composer as well as a musicologist,
Vrieslander published a number of articles and reviews extolling his mentor as a theorist and music
philosopher, which are preserved in the scrapbook relating to Schenkers career as a musician and
writer (OC 2). A reviewer of Tonwille 5 and 6 in Die Musik in 1925 (see OC 2, p. 67) noted, with re-
gret, that Vrieslander had himself adopted the polemical tone that characterized his teachers writings,
for example, in his recent book on Emanuel Bach.
cerns with musical structure. Yet this material accounts for almost ninety full
pages of the original German edition, and of these about seventy are in small type-
face, which can accommodate many more words per page. By contrast, a little over
one hundred pages of the original German editionincluding the interleaved
music examplesare devoted to matters of analysis, performance, and textual
criticism. It is therefore no exaggeration to say that Schenkers polemics loom
very large in these pages. (In the remaining ve issues of Tonwille, the proportion
of polemical writings is drastically reduced.)
One is bound to ask: why did Schenker attach so much important to these
parts of his work, even to the point of expressing the hope that all the Miscellanea
and similarly conceived passages from his monographs and editions might be
collected and published as a separate book? He believed that they served a didac-
tic purpose: Polemic is the classroom in which the people learn! The rest they
will not understand for a long time to come.
9
Indeed, readers who lacked a basic
grounding in music theory but nevertheless shared his artistic outlook would
have viewed the analytical portions of Der Tonwille as the objective proof of his
philosophy, an attitude that is diametrically opposed to that informing the re-
ception of Schenker in the later twentieth century, according to which his polem-
ical writings bear little relationship to his conception of music.
10
But the principal reason for the polemical tone is, of course, the intensication
of Schenkers pride in the German nation during and immediately after World
War I. The very idea of a series of Flugbltter suggests a military operation; their
association with the war was thus part of his intention from the outset. There is
a senseand one that would almost certainly have been foremost in Schenkers
mindin which the opening article of Der Tonwille, The Mission of German Ge-
nius, set the agenda for the entire publication, and also for Das Meisterwerk in der
Musik. All of the subsequent materialthe analyses of J. S. Bach, Haydn, Mozart,
Beethoven, and Brahms, and the theoretical essays, as well as the Miscellanea
constitute the empirical body of evidence for the assertions made in the Mission:
that Germany was battleworthy when it was tricked into a cease-re; that the
Western nations dishonestly used the Treaty of Versailles to lay the burden of
guilt for the war on the German nation; that Germany herself had come to believe
her guilt, so forgetting her great intellectual and spiritual heritage; and that she
needed to be reconnected with her past tradition, and made to recognize the un-
worthiness of France, Italy, and the Anglo-Saxon countries. It is not far-fetched to
suggest that the ashpoint for Der Tonwille was the Versailles Treaty itself (1919),
and that all ten issues were impelled by a fervor to expose democracy and cos-
mopolitanism as mortal dangers to Germanys inherently monarchic society.
Schenker was by no means an isolated gure either in his antipathy toward
the French and other Western nations or in his willingness to publicize it; in-
deed, there is a long tradition of Francophobia among German men of letters,
stretching back to the late eighteenth century; many sections of the Miscellanea
are devoted to an exhumation of that tradition, and to the investiture of com-
posers such as Mozart and Beethoven into the pantheon of German genius whose
members unashamedly expressed their belief in German superiority: it is for this
reason that large extracts of Mozarts correspondence are included in the Miscel-
lanea of Tonwille 1 and 3, and that Schenker picks up Beethovens remarks on the
genius of the German Handel and Sebastian Bach in Tonwille 5, insisting, more-
over, that Beethoven went out of his way to highlight the fact that Handel was a
German in making this remark.
The citations from the secondary literature, which can at times seem to domi-
nate an essay (those on Beethovens Sonata in F minor and Fifth Symphony occupy
a great deal of space), should not be understood merely as the targets for ridicule by
a writer who thinks he knows better, but as examples of (mostly) German writings
that fail utterly to shed light upon the tradition of German musical mastery which
they claim to understand. Seen from this viewpoint, the greatest transgression a
German author can make is to observe foreign traits in a German genius. This helps
to explain Schenkers serialized attack on Artur Schurigs biography of Mozart,
which was among the rst to describe French inuences on the development of
his musical style; the attack reaches fever pitch in the Miscellanea of Tonwille 4.
general preface
x
9
Polemik ist die Schulklasse, in der das Volk lernt! Das Andere verstehen sie noch lange nicht!
This aphorism concludes the draft of a long letter to Hertzka (OC 52/58990), which is undated but
concerns the contents of Tonwille 3 and 4 and replies specically to the charge of demagoguery raised
in Hertzkas letter of May 2, 1922 (quoted earlier).
10
Thus, for example, Allen Forte, in his Introduction to the English Edition of Der freie Satz,
could write in 1978:
In part, this material is typical of many other German language authors of an older period;
in part, it is characteristic of Schenker, and must be placed in proper perspective. Almost
none of the material bears substantive relation to the musical concepts that he developed
during his lifetime and, from that standpoint, can be disregarded; it is, however, part of the
man and his work. (p. xviii)
These sentiments are echoed almost a decade later, by John Rothgeb, in his foreword to the next major
Schenker translation, Counterpoint (1987):
We urge the reader to recognize that however much Schenker may have regarded his musi-
cal precepts as an integral part of a unied world-view, they are, in fact, not at all logically
dependent on any of his extramusical speculations. (p. xiv)
Universal Edition never seems to have grasped Schenkers conception of the
Miscellanea as integral to their volumes: they viewed this section as an appendix
(Anhang), while referring to the remainder of an issue as its content (Inhalt).
Schenker made an eort to link the Miscellanea to the musical topics discussed
in same issue. Tonwille 4, the childrens issue, recreates an imagined lesson be-
tween Bach and his wife concerning a keyboard aria from the Notebook for
Anna Magdalena Bach, as well as including extracts from Emanuel Bachs Ver-
such on the importance of ngering. Tonwille 5 brings a conjunction of Bach and
Beethoven in both the analytical essays (little preludes, Fifth Symphony) and the
rst section of the Miscellanea; later on in the same Miscellanea, Schenker draws
an analogy between a prelude by Bach, that is, a tiny work by a composer of ge-
nius, and a German speck of dustSchenker himselfwhose ability to under-
stand and convey the meaning of that prelude places him on a higher level of
humanity than all foreign armies, presidents, and statesmen. And when Univer-
sal Edition postponed the publication of the Miscellanea of Tonwille 2, Schenker
included a footnote in Tonwille 3 to the eect that this section was intended for
the earlier issue, lest his readers be puzzled by, for instance, the inclusion of
lengthy extracts from Mozarts correspondence in an issue largely devoted to a
Haydn sonata.
A Note on the Translation
All previous translations of Schenker were based only on nal published text. In
this work, we make use of materials in the Oster Collection in the New York Pub-
lic Library and Vienna Stadt- und Landesbibliothek: although he never changed
the text of his essays once they were published (this applies to Tonwille, which was
reissued in three volumes, and also to the sections devoted to Beethovens Fifth
Symphony), Schenker annotated his personal copies of Tonwille, sometimes to
reect the developments in his notation of musical structure, and sometimes to
add a further thought about a composer and the signicance of his work. These
will be duly noted in the appropriate places of our translation.
The Oster Collection also preserves portions of text that were deleted from
the page proofs of Tonwille 3. These are part of File 39, which contains passages
censored by Schenkers publishers, as indicated by the heading on the folder:
Zensuriertes!
(von U.[niversal] E.[dition] u.[nd] 3 M.[asken-Verlag])
Although we respect the principle of Fassung letzter Hand, there seemed a strong
argument for restoring those passages that he acquiesced to cutting at the last
minute, against his will. These will be shown in the translation as enclosed be-
tween forward and backward pointing arrowheads, and . The long diatribe
against Paul Bekker, whose opening was deleted from the page proofs of the Er-
luterungsausgabe of Op. 101 and whose additional materialalthough intended
for Tonwillewas never typeset, appears as an appendix to the second volume of
this translation.
Terminology
The publication of Tonwille in English completes a project to translate Schenk-
ers principal collections of analytical and theoretical essays from the 1920s. Our
approach to the translation generally follows that to Das Meisterwerk in der
Musik, which was coordinated by us and completed in 1997. Some of the conven-
tions new to that project have been retained here: thus, for instance, we have left
Urlinie and Ursatz in the original German. But we now render Urlinie-Tafel as
graph of the Urlinie, rather than foreground graph, which would have been
anachronistic. Oberstimme and Unterstimme are now rendered more neutrally, as
upper voice and lower voice, respectively, rather than treble and bass (as
for Meisterwerk).
After much consideration, it was agreed to translate Schenkers neologism
Auskomponierung as elaboration, rather than the more familiar composing-
out. Schenker devised the word as a musical analogue to Ausarbeitung, and used
it consistently in the sense of a development, an elaboration or working out of the
details. In each essay, however, the rst instance of Auskomponierung will be
noted in brackets.
Schenker used the expression an der Wende des T. 1011 when describing a
musical event straddling bars 10 and 11 (and similarly for any other adjacent pair
of bars) but not actually covering the full space of two bars: we give this as across
bars 10|11, and so on.
Some Bibliographical Conventions
We have endeavored to locate the sources of the numerous extracts from Ger-
man literature quoted in Der Tonwille. For some authors, it has been possible to
nd the specic passage, other texts have proved more elusive; in an eort to
general preface
xi
strike a balance here, we give the name of the work from which the quotation has
been extracted. Schenker was sometimes attracted to texts that he came across
while reading the Neue freie Presse, a Viennese daily newspaper. (The newspaper
clippings preserved in the Oster Collection are a useful source of these quotations,
and we have been able to trace some of the quotations in Der Tonwille to these
clippings.) Prose quotations have been translated into English; quotations of Ger-
man poetry are given in the original language and in parallel English translation.
In all of his writings, Schenker referred frequently to his earlier published
work. These, together with all editorial references to Schenkers published work,
will identify both the page numbers of the original German text and those of
standard English translations (see the Bibliographical Abbreviations for a list of
these), with the German page numbers in roman type, those for the English
translation in italics. The same practice will be applied, where relevant (and
where possible), to other German writings that have been translated into English.
For Der freie Satz, we will refer to section numbers (indicated by the symbol ),
which are common to both the German and English editions.
The vast majority of the secondary music literature cited in Der Tonwille is by
German authors (e.g., Marx, Lenz, Riemann, Bekker). The essay on Mozarts So-
nata K. 310 quotes extensivelyin the original Frenchthe monumental life-
and-works study of Mozart by Thodore de Wyzewa and Georges de Saint-Foix;
we have translated these extracts into English. The case of George Groves Beetho-
vens Nine Symphonies, originally published 1896, is more complicated: Schenker
was using a 1908 German translation that can at best be described as a paraphrase
of the original, a translation more of the spirit of Groves text than of the letter.
For the most part, these passages have been translated afresh; where Groves orig-
inal text departs more radically from the German translation that Schenker was
using, we also give it, in a footnote.
Quotations from the Bible follow the New International Version, unless other-
wise indicated.
For readers who wish to compare the original text of Der Tonwille with this
translation, the start of each page in the German edition is marked in our trans-
lation by the corresponding number in curly brackets. Since the numbering be-
gins anew for each issue of Der Tonwille, we give the issue and page numbers for
each essay, alongside their original German title.
The essays are presented here in the sequence in which they originally ap-
peared: to preserve the informal structure of the publication, we have decided
against assigning to each essay an identifying chapter number. The numbering of
the music examples in the text (Figuren) is the same as in the original, and begins
afresh in each essay.
The great majority of footnotes are editorial. Those by Schenker himself are
prefaced by the symbol [S]; editorial additions to these are enclosed in square
brackets.
This translation will use mainly American, not British, music terminology.
Two exceptions have been made: for Folgen and oene Folgenand the words
Oktaven and Quinten where they refer to the same type of part-writing error
we shall speak of consecutive fths and octaves (rather than parallel fths and
octaves). And for Takt(e) and its abbreviation T., we use bar and bars (with-
out abbreviation), not measure, measures, m., mm.
In common with the Meisterwerk series, the original edition of Der Tonwille
followed an older style of German book publishing by using Fraktur for the main
text, and roman type for foreign words (such as forte, cresc., revanche) and
note names (Es, c
3
, etc.). We shall use italics for foreign words, but will keep note
names in roman typeface. Where Schenker uses Sperrdruck (spaced type) for em-
phasis, we use italics; where he uses it to mark the beginning of a subsection of
text, for example, remarks on an autograph manuscript, or a critique of a partic-
ular writer in the discussion of the secondary literature, we use boldface.
Octave registers will be given as Schenker indicated them, in accordance with
the Helmholtz system, with the middle C as c
1
(and higher superscripts as neces-
sary). Where Schenker deliberately does not specify register, we follow his usage:
small letters for notes in the upper voice or melody and capital letters for bass
notes, the roots of chords, and the names of keys. The reader should be able to
distinguish which of Schenkers unsuperscripted note names are register-specic,
and which are not.
Urlinie graphs and music examples in Schenkers original text have not been
reset; to do so would not only have been expensive but also risk the introduction
of errors (of which very few have been found, and tacitly corrected).
We have not attempted to translate the main title of this publication. Each of
the constituent parts of the word Tonwille conveys a range of meaning, result-
ing in a large number of possible English renderings, none of which would have
the concision of the original German. (It is perhaps signicant, in this regard,
that two other Schenkerian titles have shown resistance to translation: Erluter-
ungsausgabe and, to a lesser extent, Der freie Satz.) Some idea of what Schenker
general preface
xii
meant by it is given in the essay on Beethovens Sonata in F minor, in which he
speaks of being able to feel the ery will of the tone e
,
1
(den ammenden Willen
des Tones es
1
nachzufhlen); see Tonwille 2, p. 35 and explanatory note 16 provided
by the translator, Joseph Dubiel.

This project could not have been realized without the encouragement and as-
sistance we have received from within and without. Our contributing transla-
tors, in addition to undertaking their individual assignments with professional-
ism and imagination of the highest order, have always been ready to help us
resolve matters of terminology and format relating to Der Tonwille as a whole.
We are also grateful to Maribeth Payne, former music editor at Oxford Univer-
sity Press, for overseeing the project in its early stages, and to Ellen Welch,
Kimberly Robinson, and Robert Milks of O.U.P. for working so patiently on the
production of a music theory text with illustrative materials in an unconven-
tional format. Thanks also are due to John Shepard (New York Public Library) for
granting us access to original documents in the Oster Collection, and to Nigel
Simeone (University of Wales, Bangor), Thomas Betzwieser (University of Bay-
reuth), and Brian Sparkes and Jeanice Brooks (University of Southampton) for
their answers to specic questions.
A special debt of gratitude is owed to Andrea Reiter of the University of South-
ampton, whose command of the German language and insight into Schenkers
style, which had greatly benetted the translation team for Das Meisterwerk in der
Musik, has again proved indispensable to all who have contributed to this edition
of Der Tonwille.
Ian Bent
William Drabkin
general preface
xiii
This page intentionally left blank
German Words, Phrases, Technical Terms, and Abbreviations
Used in the Music Examples xvii
Bibliographical Abbreviations xix
Tonwille 1
The Mission of German Genius 3
The Urlinie: A Preliminary Remark 21
Beethovens Fifth Symphony [rst part] 25
The E
,
Minor Prelude from Bachs Well-Tempered Clavier, Book I 34
Schuberts Ihr Bild 41
Miscellanea 44
Tonwille 2
Laws of the Art of Music 51
History of the Art of Music 52
Yet Another Word on the Urlinie 53
Mozarts Sonata in A Minor, K. 310 55
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1 72
Tonwille 3
Haydns Sonata in E
,
Major, Hoboken XVI:52 99
The Art of Listening 118
Miscellanea 121
Tonwille 4
Bachs Little Prelude No. 1 in C Major, BWV 924 141
Bachs Little Prelude No. 2 in C Major, BWV 939 145
The Allemande from Handels Suite in G Major, HWV 441 146
C. P. E. Bachs Allegro in G Major 148
C. P. E. Bachs Keyboard Sonata in C Major 150
Haydns Sonata in C Major, Hoboken XVI:35 153
Mozarts Sonata in C Major, K. 545 156
Beethovens Sonata in G Major, Op. 49, No. 2 158
Miscellanea 160
Tonwille 5
Bachs Little Prelude No. 3 in C Minor, BWV 999 175
Bachs Little Prelude No. 4 in D Major, BWV 925 177
Bachs Little Prelude No. 5 in D Minor, BWV 926 180
Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation) 182
Miscellanea 210
Index 227
Contents
This page intentionally left blank
This is an alphabetized list of all the analytical labels and explanatory text
found in the music examples and Urlinie graphs of Tonwille 15. In general, an
abbreviation is followed by the full form of the word in question, either after a
comma (if that word also appears somewhere in the examples), or in brackets (if
it does not).
To obtain a translation of a short phrase, it may be necessary to look up the
component words or abbreviations: thus II Ged second subject (or
group), in sonata form. The note to the graph of the Urlinie for Haydns Sonata
in E
,
(Tonwille 3) is not included in this table, but appears in the text of the essay,
at the bottom of the graph of the rst movement.
1., 2., 3. rst, second, third
2 Okt tiefer two octaves lower
8va tiefer one octave lower
als Durchgang as passing note
als Vorhalt as suspension
alteriert altered
As A
,
(note)
Auftakt upbeat
B B
,
(note)
Br. [Bratsche(n)] viola(s)
c.f cantus rmus
ces C
,
(note)
d, dur major
Df., Durchfhrung development section (in sonata form)
Dg. [Durchgang], Durchgnge passing note(s), transitional harmony
(harmonies)
Erster Teil rst part, exposition (in sonata form)
Es E
,
(note)
Fag. [Fagott(e)] bassoon(s)
fes F
,
(note)
Fis F

(note)
Fl. [Flte(n)] ute(s)
fr for
Ged [Gedanke] subject, group (in sonata form)
ges G
,
(note)
H B (note)
I, II rst, second
Holzbl. [Holzblser] wind instruments
Hrn, Hrner horns
Kl., Klar. [Klarinette(n)] clarinet(s)
leicht light, unstressed
m, moll minor
Md, Modul. [Modulation] modulation (in sonata-form
exposition)
Mischung mixture (of major and minor)
N. S. [Nachsatz] consequent phrase
Nbn. [Nebennote] neighbor note
Nbn. Hm(n). neighbor-note harmony
[Nebennotenharmonie(n)] (harmonies)
Oberquint als Teiler upper fth as divider
oder or
p.v. [prima volta] rst ending (of a repeated section)
Quartzug fourth-progression
Quintzug fth-progression
Repr., Reprise reprise, recapitulation (in sonata
form)
s.v. [seconda volta] second ending (of a repeated section)
xvii
German Words, Phrases, Technical Terms, and
Abbreviations Used in the Music Examples
Schluged. [Schlugedanke] closing subject, group (in sonata form)
schwer heavy, stressed
Sept, Septime seventh
sog[ennanter] Akkord d[er] gr[ossen] so-called chord of the major
Septime seventh
Strch [Streicher] string instruments
T. [Takt] bar, bar number
Takttriole three-bar group
Teiler divider
Teilgedanke part of a group (in sonata form)
Terzgang des Aussensatzes succession of thirds between the
outer voices
Thema theme
Tp. [Trompete(n)] trumpet(s)
u.s.w. [und so weiter] and so forth
und and
V. S. [Vordersatz] antecedent phrase
Vcl., Vlc. violoncello(s)
Viol. [Violine(n)] violin(s)
weiblich feminine
wie as, the same as
Wiederholung repetition
german words, phrases, techni cal terms, and abbrevi ati ons used i n the musi c examples
xviii
Unpublished materials
OC The Oster Collection: Papers of Heinrich
Schenker, New York Public Library (New York,
USA)
A Finding List of this collection, compiled by
Robert Kosovsky, is dated May 31, 1990, and issued
by the New York Public Library
WSLB Wiener Stadt- und Landesbibliothek [Municipal
and Provincial Library of Vienna]: collection of
446 letters from Schenker to Universal edition,
Vienna. (On loan from Universal Edition.)
Schenkers published writings
Harmonielehre Harmonielehre Neue musikalische Theorien
und Phantasien, part 1 (Stuttgart: Cotta, 1906)
Abbreviated English translation: Harmony, ed.
Oswald Jonas and trans. Elizabeth Mann Borgese
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1954)
Ornamentik Ein Beitrag zur Ornamentik, revised 2nd edn
(Vienna: Universal Edition, 1908)
English translation: A Contribution to the Study
of Ornamentation, trans. Hedi Siegel, Music
Forum 4 (1976), pp. 1139.
Kontrapunkt i, ii Kontrapunkt Neue musikalische Theorien und
Phantasien, part 2; vol. i (Stuttgart: Cotta, 1910),
vol. ii (Vienna: Universal Edition, 1922)
English translation: Counterpoint, trans. John
Rothgeb and Jrgen Thym, ed. John Rothgeb, 2
vols. (New York: Schirmer, 1987)
Beethovens neunte Sinfonie Beethovens neunte Sinfonie (Vienna: Universal
Edition, 1912)
English translation: Beethovens Ninth Symphony,
trans. John Rothgeb (New Haven, CT: Yale
University Press, 1992)
Erluterungsausgabe Beethoven, Die letzten fnf Sonaten: kritische
Ausgabe mit Einfhrung und Erluterung (Vienna:
Universal Edition)
of Op.101 Sonate A dur Opus 101 (1921)
of Op.109 Sonate E dur Opus 109 (1913)
of Op.110 Sonate As dur Opus 110 (1914)
of Op.111 Sonate C moll Opus 111 (1915)
(Opus 106 not completed or published)
abbreviated second edition: Beethoven, Die letzten
Sonaten: kritische Einfhrung und Erluterung ed.
Oswald Jonas (Vienna: Universal Edition, 19712)
Tonwille 1, 2, 3 etc. Der Tonwille, ten issues (Vienna: Tonwille-
Flugbltterverlag [Universal Edition], 192124)
English translation: the present publication
(projected in two volumes)
Meisterwerk i, ii, iii Das Meisterwerk in der Musik, three vols. (Vienna:
1925, 1926, 1930)
English translation: The Masterwork in Music,
trans. Ian Bent, Alfred Clayton, William Drabkin,
xix
Bibliographical Abbreviations
Richard Kramer, Derrick Puett, John Rothgeb
and Hedi Siegel, ed. William Drabkin (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1994, 1996, 1997)
Der freie Satz Der freie Satz Neue musikalische Theorien und
Phantasien, part 3 (Vienna: Universal Edition,
1935, rev. 2/1956)
English translation: Free Composition (Der freie
Satz), ed. and trans. Ernst Oster (New York:
Longman, 1979)
To facilitate reference to Schenkers original writings and the current standard
translations, a system of double page references is used in this translation. Thus,
for example,
(see Kontrapunkt i, pp. 63/pp. 4244)
indicates that the Schenker original referred the reader to pp. 63 and following of
the rst volume of his Kontrapunkt, and that we have in addition supplied the
corresponding page numbers, 4244, in Rothgeb and Thyms English transla-
tion. This dual reference system also applies to this publication, that is, to the rst
ve issues of Der Tonwille; thus, for instance, see Tonwille 4, p. 24/i, p. 162.
Schenkers references to II
3
are to a projected third volume of Kontrapunkt,
which used the title Freier Satz throughout the publication of Der Tonwille; this
work is extensively documented in the Oster Collection. Schenker worked out a
plan for it during World War I, and had completed an initial draft by August 1917,
to which additions and emendations were made.
1
Sometimes he refers to sections
of this work that can be specically identied in the early draft; other references
show that his conception of this work was changing, although the nal version,
published posthumously with the title Der freie Satz as the third and nal part of
the Neue musikalische Theorien und Phantasien, was to turn out very dierent.
We have attempted to trace these references back to Freier Satz as preserved in
the Oster Collection, and ahead to the published form of this work. Our refer-
ences to Der freie Satz use paragraph numbers (), which are the same in the Ger-
man and English editions.
For the Erluterungsausgaben of the late Beethoven sonatas, the italicized
page numbers refer not to an English translation (at present, none has been pub-
lished) but to Jonass revised German edition.
Unless otherwise stated, references to material in the Oster Collection are by
le and item number. Thus, for example, OC 52/138 refers to le 52, item 138, in
the collection.
bi bli ographi cal abbrevi ati ons
xx
1
For an introduction to the exceedingly complex prehistory of Der freie Satz, see Hedi Siegel,
When Freier Satz Was Part of Kontrapunkt: a Preliminary Report, Schenker Studies 2, ed. C. Schachter
and H. Siegel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), pp. 1225.
Tonwille 1
This page intentionally left blank
In these grave times, in these most grievous of times, when universal economic
and spiritual poverty threatens to make any headway whatsoever in art, albeit
threadbare and indigent, impossible, may these pamphlets,
1
which will appear
from time to time,
2
be dedicated unswervingly to the nourishing of genius.
Once the artist, in such times, sees how the political parties vying with one
another for power sin against art in general, and against his own art in particu-
lar, through ignorance and ineptitude, then he must be inamed, purely in his ca-
pacity as equal citizen of the stateeven if he were the most detached of citi-
zenswith the duty to protect art. Even more imperative becomes this impulse,
the more conscious is he of the lesson of history that, among the arts, music in
particular owes its foremost and nest achievements to kings, to the nobility, and
to the Church, and the more is he convinced that this represents no chance al-
liance but an intrinsic bond.
It is in just such a frame of mind that the author of Der Tonwille, too, now
nds himself. As he sets about placing this collection of essays before the public
with the intention of nurturing an elite group, he feels bound rst to draw atten-
tion to the obstacles that, today more than ever, stand in the way of such an elite.
No denying, there has always been resistance to genius throughout history. It
has to be said, though, that the accursed World War,
3
crueler even in its length
than in its ferocity, has intensied that resistance to the utmost. Because of this,
the World War has naturally moved to center-stage here, along with all that it has
uncovered that is hostile to culture and genius, or (which amounts to the same
thing) to the people and to humanity, whether these be the Germans, their ene-
mies, particular social classes, or even individuals, whether on the basis of old or
new worldviews, systems of government, or social forms, etc.
If the present author speaks in this connection of betrayalbetrayal perpe-
trated by Germans upon Germans, by nations upon one another and upon the
whole of humanity, in the past, and still todayand if he speaks in detail and at
some length, then he means not so much to denounce betrayal and betrayers in
the political sense as to bring to light that which, springing from causes long past,
having deep roots, was bound to lead to present betrayal. How, and by whom, the
betrayal was perpetratedat the heart of that question (and our emphasis will
be solely on that) lies the demise of genius, the decline of those solutions to the
problems of humanity that have from time immemorial been attained through
genius: solutions such as nation, state, religion, monarchy, republic, democracy,
freedom, art, science, etc. It amounts to all well-established, unalterable concepts
having utterly vanished, to a total breakdown of knowledge and ethics, leading to
ultimate spiritual and moral degeneracy. This breakdown must be reversed if the
path to genius and to human dignity is to be rediscovered.
Nor if the present author, in dilating further on the betrayal of culture, turns
his criticism against middle class and working class alike, does he for a moment
wish to engage in politics as conventionally understood. He means only to inves-
tigate the special conditions required for the creation and acceptance of an art-
work of genius, and to delineate the path that leads uniquely to that goal. {4} He
has thus no intention of playing o the working class against the middle class,
or vice versa. Rather, in taking up the cause of genius as something higher than
middle class, something higher than working class, as guarantee
4
of nation and
humanity, as resolution and redemption, he seeks to say which soil (the land of
3
The Mission of German Genius
Von der Sendung des deutschen Genies {Tonwille 1, pp. 321}
t r a ns l at e d b y i a n b e nt
1
Bltter: literally leaves, pages. The word reects the subtitle of the journal: Flugbltter zum
Zeugnis unwandelbarer Gesetze der Tonkunst and also the name Tonwille-Flugbltterverlag, which was
devised to conceal the identity of the publisher, Universal Edition.
2
In zwangloser Folge. This reects the wording on the cover of the rst six issues of Der Tonwille:
erscheint in zwangloser Folge (appears from time to time). In 1924 Schenker and Universal Edition
settled on a quarterly format, deleted this rubric, and adopted a double numbering system.
3
That is, World War I, 1914 18.
4
Brgen: play on words with Brger, middle class, bourgeois.
the poet) may be best suited to genius, and whether the latter will be able to take
root and ourish among us.
The fact that Germans recognize and value their own great minds so little
nowworse, that they deprecate them, indeed betray them, preferring those of
foreignersmerely conrms that the propagating soil of humans is, after all,
only soil. It cannot, however, deect the authors unshakeable convictiona con-
viction borne of recognition that the temperaments of nations dier so greatly in
essentialsthat the one, the redeemer, will once again arise only from the Ger-
man propagating soil of humans. This redeemer will strengthen the immutabil-
ity and eternal validity of the solutions hitherto achievedsemper idem sed non
eodem modo
5
newly promulgatedand will moreover bring them to universal
validity, though only to the extent of mans capacity to accept them.

Shameless betrayal has been perpetrated during the World War on the genius of
Germanity as a whole, and on the genius of those two time-honored generals,
Hindenburg and Ludendor;
6
for the sake of their illustrious personages, sacri-
ced in exemplary fashion to a supreme goal, the very genius of humanity itself,
which sits enthroned on the loftiest peaks, will one day become reconciled to all
the dismal happenings of the World War.
Betrayal was perpetrated on their own territory:
by a spiritually and morally venal fringe group, whichwhen not treason-
ously exploiting the market, and racketeering as manufacturers, merchants,
farmers, etc.were obeying the law whereby human commonplaceness ever
lusts after other commonplaceness by selling itself body and soul to the West,
to the disadvantage of the fatherland, its dignity, and its future, the very epit-
ome of human commonplaceness, its tawdry form concealing an even more
trivial spirit beneath, and in this sense of the word concealing by form, lying
by form;
7
by that trouble-making megalomaniac wage-church
8
of Karl Marx, which
not even the choicest insults and aronts on the part of a deceitful Interna-
tional
9
deterred from acting in a thorough-going internationalist manner, to
the general joy and delight of the enemy; and which, fooling all whom it en-
countered, concentrated on shamelessly practicing wage-politics and usury;
and moreover by openly inciting mutiny and desertion within the army even
proteered with freedom itself, insofar as any church so totally uncreative,
and made up solely of job-seekers and -takers, can ever understand freedom,
namely as the rejection of every authority except that which guarantees a
higher wage, i.e. the churchs founder and his apostles;
by a certain gang of sailors in Kiel who, to the utter dismay of the whole nation,
so unexpectedly and unwelcomely sent the German Empire up in ames;
10
by certain so-called pacists and professors, their mouths rank with lth, who,
counter to all logic, railed nauseatingly against Germany alone while leaving
the nations of the West
11
unreproached; men whose heinous, dishonorable
tonwi lle 1
4
5
Always the same, but not in the same way. This became Schenkers artistic creed from 1921 on-
wards and appeared on the cover of every issue of Der Tonwille, after the Foreword to Kontrapunkt II
(1922), and on the title-page of Der freie Satz (1935).
6
Paul von Hindenburg (18471934), who had served in the Austro-Prussian and Franco-German
wars (1866, 187071), was recalled to service in World War I, rising to commander of all German land
forces, and was later to be the second president of the Weimar Republic, 192534; Erich Ludendor
(18651937), chief of sta of the Eighth Army from 1914, and appointed to direct the entire German
war eort under Hindenburg from 1916. Schenker had brief exchanges of letters with both Hinden-
burg and Ludendor in 1921. He sent copies of Der Tonwille to each with separate covering notes,
drawing their attention to specic pages in the present essay and probably the Miscellanea of Ton-
wille 3; drafts of his letters, and the responses they elicited, are preserved in the Oster Collection, le
24, items 1118.
7
For Schenker, form represents a concern with outward appearance, the treatment of form as
separate from content, hence as something pretentious and obfuscating. For him, the English phrase
good form is an emblem of French as well as English superciality. Form should be the outward re-
sult of that which arises from within, and therefore should not need to be viewed in itself. This is, for
him, one of the most blatant distinctions between the German mind and that of the Western nations
of Europe.
8
Lohnkirche: neologism by Schenker or contemporary commentators, from Lohn (wage)
Kirche (church), referring to the communist movement in general, and containing an ironic refer-
ence to the atheism professed by Marx and that movement. See also note 29.
9
The International movement, a succession of federations of working-class socialist parties, the
relevant ones being the First International (1864 76), of which Marx was the dominant force,
founded in London; the Second (18891914), founded in Paris; and the Third, or Comintern (1919
43), founded in Moscow.
10
On October 30, 1918, some two hundred sailors on two ships in Kiel (principal port of the Ger-
man eet) refused to weigh anchor, and damped the coals in their boilers, in response to the order to
raise steam for battle. They were imprisoned. On November 2, ve hundred sailors from other ships
rallied to demand their release; the next day 20,000 people demonstrated, breaking open the prison,
seizing weapons from stores, and running up the red ag on all ships; and by November 6, there were
40,000 people calling for revolution. These events contributed to the exile of the kaiser, led directly
to the downfall of the German government, and on November 9 to the declaration of a republic. See
R. M. Watt, The Kings Depart: The Tragedy of Germany: Versailles and the German Revolution (New
York: Simon & Schuster, 1968), pp. 158200.]
11
That is, France, Italy, Britain, and by extension the United States.
conduct from childhood to the present day equipped them pitifully and des-
picably to be lackeys of foreign countries; [nations] whose piracy, drug traf-
ficking, commandeering of Gods high seas, whose navalism,
12
Baralongerei,
slaughtering of {5} women, children and old people inside and outside of
concentration camps, the dissolute conduct of whose kings and aristocracy,
whose Armagnacism,
13
constant sorties to rob and plunder, squabbling over
revolution, militarism, lust after gloire,
14
Senegalese marriage relationships,
15
Congolese atrocities,
16
etc., etc.in short, whose pronounced barbarism, nay
cannibalism, they conceal from themselves and others only scantily beneath
high-own language, verbal trickery, formality, and form itself (here is a ran-
dom sampling from the lying maw of that infamous civilization:
17
Sun
King,
18
great Revolution,revanche,
19
disannexation,
20
nobles traditions,
genius of the people, chivalry, eternal soldier of right, traditional jus-
tice, global conscience, battle against militarism, liberation of peoples,
League of Nations,
21
etc., etc.).
Betrayal was perpetrated, furthermore,
by certain sensation-mongers
22
who, having no genuine spiritual roots to
guide them, hence apt merely to latch on to anything anywhere in the world
and publicize and proclaim it indiscriminately, even during the War dispar-
aged all things German in favor of things foreign;
by certain other writers, who snored their way loudly through the Russo-
Japanese War,
23
the Spanish- American War,
24
and the Boer War,
25
and snored,
too, as mankind endured the agreements not worth the paper on which they
were printed concerning Morocco,
26
Tripoli,
27
and Persia;
28
but who, when the
Germans had to defend themselves against an invasion long premeditated by
nations whose virulent envy of it exceeded their incompetence, suddenly woke
up to discover, oh-so-smugly, the spiritual and moral truth that peace was more
humane than war; they then mendaciously painted their own fellow-country-
men as the very instigators of the war and perpetrators of the rst murder;
The Mission of German Genius
5
12
That is, the policy of building up naval eets as instruments of war. Before 1914, the British eet
had been the largest in Europe. From 1912, Germany embarked on enlargement of its eet to rival the
British. However, the German eet did not engage the British in full-scale battle.
13
Armagnac: state in what is now southwest France; from the twelfth century a buer between the
French and English (during the Hundred Years War, the Burgundian, French, and English) spheres of
inuence, it wielded power by switching allegiance strategically; hence allegiance-switching by West-
ern countries.
14
Gloire-Brunst: Gloire: patriotic French rallying-cry, closely associated with the French Revolu-
tion, and reected in the text of the Marseillaise (written by Rouget de Lisle on April 24, 1792, during
the Revolution): (vs. 1) Allons enfants de la patrie, / Le jour de gloire est arriv, (vs. 6) Que tes en-
emis expirants / Voient ton triomphe et notre gloire; Brunst: lit. rutting, or being on-heat.
15
This is perhaps a reference to intermarriage between Europeans and Africans in the French
colony of Senegal; or possibly to the polygamy-based social structure indigenous not to Senegal alone,
but to many of the West African colonies. On Senegal, see note 40.
16
King Leopold ii of Belgium had established the Congo Free State (since 1960 the Republic of
Zaire) in 1884, and the abuses which his administrators and soldiers committed upon villages, espe-
cially in the collection of rubber, had become the subject of international protest from 1904. Belgium
was held accountable, and sought to address the atrocities during and after World War I. The issue
was still current in 1921.
17
Schenker contrasted civilization with culture, the former being preoccupied with the outer
trappings of a nations heritage, and with elegant and articulate expression (hence associated with the
supercial Western nations), the latter denoting inward, deeply felt heritage, and the struggle for
expression (hence associated with Germany. See Thomas Mann, Reections of a Nonpolitical Man
[1918], especially chapters 23).
18
King Louis xiv, reigned 16611715.
19
Revenge; also return match in a game, or (as here) a policy that seeks to recover territory
lost to an enemy.
20
That is, the reversal of the annexation by Germany of Alsace and Lorraine, which had been ac-
complished by Germany during the Franco-Prussian War of 187071.
21
The League of Nations, formed at the instigation of the British and Americans at the end of
World War I to prevent future world conicts and preserve the postwar status quo, hence viewed by
Schenker as an instrument of enforcement upon Germany.
22
Litfakreaturen: lit: creatures of Litfass, perhaps in reference to war correspondents. Ernst
Litfass (181674) was a printer, publisher, and advertiser, who during the Franco-Prussian War of
187071 obtained the exclusive rst access to wartime dispatches and bulletins, for quotation in his
newspapers. He is best known for having negotiated with the Berlin police commissioner to construct
one hundred circular pillars and fty hydrants and public conveniences at his own expense in return
for the sole right to post placard advertisements on them. The round pillars became popularly known
as Litfasulen (Litfass pillars); Schenkers aushngen (translated here publicize) implies to post
as on a billboard or hoarding.
23
1904 5, won decisively by Japan, and triggering revolutionary unrest in Russia.
24
February to August 1898, fought in Cuba and Puerto Rico, resulting in Spains recognition of
Cubas independence and ceding of Puerto Rico to the United States; and also in the Philippines, re-
sulting in the American acquisition of these islands.
25
18991902, fought in South Africa, won by the British, but with a reputation for barbarity in the
concentration camps in which 26,000 Boers and more than 13,000 Africans died.
26
By 1906, growing French inuence in Morocco troubled Germany. In 1906, Kaiser Wilhelm ii
visited the sultan of Morocco to assert Germanys claim to equal rights in that country, causing in-
ternational alarm; the Conference of Algeciras resulted. In 1911, the German gunboat Panther ap-
peared outside the southern port of Agadir in an attempt to stem French encroachment; Germany
backed down. See also note 49.
27
The Italo-Turkish War of 1912 was fought over the provinces of Tripoli and Cyrenaica (both
part of Libya since 1951), which were then controlled by the Turks, but were ceded to Italy as a result.
28
The Anglo-French Entente of 1904 divided Persia into three spheres of inuence, British, Russ-
ian, and neutral, causing Germany to protest encirclement. See also note 49.
by certain ballad-mongers of intellectualism, certain world citizens with love
for the fatherland, representatives of a spiritual half-world who, lacking any
truly national feeling, let alone love for the fatherland, were incapable even of
discovering for themselves how the exalted world citizenship of our greatest
poets and thinkers is rooted primarily in a keenly felt, deep-running Ger-
manity; and whose unprincipledness it served to make out a quintessentially
German poet such as Goethe, Jean Paul, Hlderlin, etc., as just the opposite:
anti-German, un-German;
by certain novelists and spiritual vassals of Frenchness who have never been
able to see through all the hullabaloo to its all-too genuine and oh-so-droll
philistinism, and realize how, given its skeptically lifeless preoccupation with
lofty questions, it seeks and nds its emotional fulllment, refreshment, and
delight in genital play and form (unmistakable signs of a typical mediocrity),
and also how out of complacency it seeks to convince itself and others that its
all-too-limited world is something important, using cheap aectation, cheap
wit (esprit and the like: as Jean Paul puts it, The spiritually-minded German is
almost ashamed of being as ready a wit as a Frenchman, and has to try hard not
to try hard), and a form that is attractive to those of inferior mind (again, un-
mistakable sign of the genuine philistine, who is infatuated with his own wit,
temperamentI say! hes a devil of a fellow! a real wag!and especially his
form), much less that they could ever aspire to so profound an armation,
so profound a form, and so demonic a nervous tension as is the preserve of
great German geniusestruly, a proposition by Luther, its content as well as its
formulation, or an Adagio by Sebastian Bach, has more nervous energy, more
true bravery than all the French armies over all the centuries have exhibited in
body or spirit; a line of Goethes poetry, {6} a musical smile by Brahms, has
more loveliness than all the bestiality of French masculinity and femininity;
by certain foreign nationals who, while those in France (out of calculation,
cowardice, or pride?) became Frenchmen through and through, and those in
England (out of calculation, cowardice, or pride?) became dyed-in-the-wool
Englishmen, in Germany by contrast, with barefaced ingratitude, not to men-
tion at the cost of their good German-minded brothers-in-faith, styled them-
selves as internationalists, more often than not as high priests of the wage-
church;
29
by certain international newspapers, oozing so-called democratic conviction
and, needless to say, well disposed toward all progress(the kind that a demo-
crat, a newspaperman calls progress, and about which he is all empty talk
while others get on and make it, but that he resists when anyone else tries to
suggest he make it himselfjust think of Bismarck and the German demo-
crats); these newspapers saw genuine democracy and true progress only in the
deeds of Western nations, and held these up as a model to their own nation,
which they claimed had been enslaved by the Junkers
30
and deprived of real
progress by German chauvinism and Pan-Germanism; in so believing, they
have only exposed Germany all the more to the slanders of her enemies, who
as one should, with a little more experience, have foreseenhad not the slight-
est intention of expending money or spilling blood on Germanys democra-
tization, or on freeing the German people from the yoke of the Kaiser, the
princes, and the Junkers;
and betrayal was constantly being perpetrated in their own backyard:
by Magyars playing tricky economic politics and blockading basic foodstus
against their comrades-in-arms, to the point of barefaced, infamous betrayal
in the eld, orchestrated by a genuine French catspaw;
by some Slavic nations belonging to Austria who, to this very day, fail to real-
ize that on the scales of true genius one solitary gure, Chopin,
31
and perhaps
also just the one string quartet, From My Life, by Smetana,
32
are worth more
tonwi lle 1
6
29
Pfaen der Lohnkirche: reference to communists, the workers movement, and, ironically, their
professed atheism. See note 8.
30
Junkertum: the landed aristocracy, especially that of Prussia which traced its descent from the
Order of Teutonic Knights, founded in 1225. Bismarck belonged to this class, which represented ex-
treme conservatism and upheld the monarchy, and from the ranks of which the Prussian army was
staed. Schenker shared their intense hostility to the Weimar Republic: Otto von Bismarck (181598),
prime minister of Prussia from 1862, and the rst chancellor of the German Empire, 187190, under
Wilhelm i.
31
See Schenkers analyses of two Chopin etudes in Meisterwerk i, pp. 14573/pp. 8198, and Ian
Bent, Heinrich Schenker, Chopin and Domenico Scarlatti, Music Analysis 5 (1986), pp. 13149.
32
String Quartet No.1, subtitled From My Life (1876): this remark relates back to early articles
and reviews by Schenker: Friedrich Smetana, Die Zukunft 4/40 (711893), 3740; Smetanas Kuss
and review of same, Neue Revue 1 (1894), 34750, 375, and review of Dalibor, ibid. 8/2 (1897), pp. 448
49; Aus dem Leben Smetanas (Ein Besuch bei Fr. Smetanas Witwe),Neues Wiener Tagblatt 28/245 (9
61894); all reprinted in Heinrich Schenker als Essayist und Kritiker: Gesammelte Aufstze, Rezensionen
und kleinere Berichte aus den Jahren 18911901, ed. H. Federhofer (Hildesheim: Olms, 1990), pp. 4854,
7075, 10914, 274 75, 35758. The rst of these acknowledges Smetana as a genius, and states that
Since Mozarts time no composer in the realm of buo opera has realized the mysteries of the motive
and melodic material, especially the fecundity and capacity for proliferation of the motive as has
Smetana. It describes the quartet as a shattering autobiography over which Beethovens blessing
hovers, and states signicantly that: In its originality I discern a certain quality that causes ones
than all that the nations of the West have produced; nations that, seduced by
feeble-minded, wrong-headed leaders, surrendered themselves to those bar-
barians in totally undeserved servitude, so placing the blood and honor of
their children at the disposal of the basest avarice and rapaciousness of foreign
Junkers of capitalism, thereby vitiating the future of their natural and un-
tainted manhood and making them the dupes of the West.
Beyond its own boundaries, betrayal has also been perpetrated:
by the Monroe-lying,
33
perdious United States of America, led by that living
incarnation of mendacity Woodrow Wilson;
34
as betrayer, as desecrator of
mankind and morality, he must surely be named for all time as third along-
side Ephialtes
35
and Judas;
by certain neutral states whose spiritual and moral code nonetheless allowed
them to be taken in abjectly by the wiles of the French and English, but who
were sly enough to turn their sympathy for the West into massive economic
gainas if such blood-money could bring them any more credit than does
unscrupulous proteering to any peasant, merchant, etc.

On top of the shaming defeats that the nations of the West and South have suf-
fered on all battleelds, the most shaming came at Versailles and St. Germain.
36
There, Western democracy, judged on its termsin bello veritas!
37
became syn-
onymous with ultimate moral depravity, lthy mendaciousness, {7} unparalleled
incompetence, crassest ignorance, betrayal of human rights, trickery by black-
mail, and theft of private property, not to mention loutish personal behavior.
Never in the history of mankindneither in Antiquity nor in the Middle Ages
nor in modern times, not under despots or the Caesars, not even in republics
have nations sunk to such moral and spiritual depths as nations did there in the
name of democracy and the middle class. (Even savages and cannibals in their
wild state are purer and more virtuous than the savages and cannibal hordes of
Versailles, who dress themselves as Christians in order to aunt their Christian
principles.) Four or ve human nonentities
38
upon whom by democratic law the
nations depend, men who with ostentatious contempt for principles (always the
reverse side of spiritual worthlessness) have led on unfortunate nations and coun-
tries, and with thievish intentions for their contemporaries and posterity have
sought to misrepresent whatever has conveniently dropped into their laps, the
fruit of most atrocious betrayal, as a victory. In so doingand this is the heart of
mankinds tragedy, so little understood todaynot only warring governments,
kings, presidents, and other spokesmen, but even the peoples themselves have
been shamed, disgraced, and, in the words of the Old Testament, been made
to stink.
39
The Earth reeks with the foetor britannicus, and needs to be freshened! Eu-
rope, even more so after the Franco-Senegalese business,
40
needs purifying, in
body and spirit!
The Mission of German Genius
7
response to relate back to the very understanding of art itself, rather than just recalling the expressive
manner of some other composer.
Schenker reasoned that Smetana, whose genius was inclined toward the Classical, was the rst to
employ the German system directly for Bohemian music; and because he like no other grasped Ger-
man musical logic so to speak in its inevitability and rationality, he had the privilege of representing
Bohemian music from the start in a perfection that was not to be surpassed. (Neue Revue 8/2 (1897),
pp. 654 55, Federhofer, p. 361).
33
The Monroe Doctrine of 1823, enunciated by President James Monroe (17581831), proclaimed
that (1) there should be no further colonization by European countries, (2) the United States should
refrain from involvement in European aairs, and (3) Europe should not intervene in governments of
the Western hemisphere. To this was added the Roosevelt Corollary (1904), allowing that the United
States might in cases of agrant wrongdoing act as an international police power.
34
Woodrow Wilson (18561924), president of the United States, 191320, recipient of the 1919
Nobel Peace Prize; author of the Fourteen Points, which were intended to oer a basis for just and
lasting peace at the end of World War I; one of the principal participants at the peace conference in
191819, and ardent advocate of the League of Nations.
35
Ephialtes: Malian traitor who, around 480 bc, guided the Persians through the dele of Anopaea
while Leonidas was defending the Pass of Thermopylae, so that they could attack his men from the rear.
36
That is, at the peace conferences between the Allies and Germany and Austria respectively.
37
A play on the adage in vino veritas (in wine there is truth), possibly mocking wine connois-
seurship as a national tradition in France.
38
That is, the Council of Four at the Paris conference (President Woodrow Wilson, and Prime
Ministers David Lloyd George, Georges Clemenceau, and Vittorio Emanuele Orlando), and the
Council of Five (the foreign ministers of the United States, Britain, France, Italy, and Japan).
39
1 Samuel 27.12. The sentence from which the words are taken reads, in Luthers translation: Er
hat sich stinkend gemacht vor seinem Volk Israel, darum soll er immer mein Knecht sein.
40
Senegal: a colony of France, part of French West Africa. Schenker is presumably referring to
Frances intensive recruiting of Senegalese to ght in World War I: 13,339 (over half the able-bodied
Senegalese males of military age), out of some 140,000 West Africans in all, recruited to ght in the
French army on the Western front. This recruitment uncomfortably resembled the slave trade (o-
cially abandoned by France around 1800). See J. Lunn, Memoirs of the Maelstrom: A Senegalese Oral
History of the First World War (Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 1999), esp. pp. 12, 3344; M. Crowder:
Senegal, A Study of French Assimilation Policy (London: Methuen, 1962, rev. 1967). This has to be seen
in a broader context in which Frances overseas colonies swelled her population from forty million to
one hundred million, giving her greater manpower than Germany: see A. Sarraut, La mise en valeur
de nos colonies (Paris, 1923). See also reference to black troop, later, and note 85.
What, then, is the total dissipation of mankind today, if not that after the ig-
nominious example of Versailles no nation on earth, no one social class, no single
person will be spared the degradation; that all are driven by an unquenchable thirst
for prot into lying, blackmail, stealing, robbery, and murder in the same way, in-
tent on bringing about the wholesale emulation of the Western democratic model?
If democracy were really freedom, justice, deliverance, edication, and truth,
the preeminent model of government, as its champions proclaim, and if Versailles
were really the pledge of all those holy blessings upon mankind, would not the
whole of humanity after Versailles have burst into rejoicing at freedoms wonders,
basking in mutual admiration and love, instead of sinking deeper than ever before
into despondency and being so deled that it will take more than an ocean to wash
away the lth?
But is it perhaps all just a mischance, a temporary aberration, a degenerate
form of democracy? No, it is Western democracy itself, the real thing, the lie of the
people, the lie of the middle class, the corrosive poison of which has taken eect
so lethally over two hundred years.
The people, of which no one knows its makeup, its origins, its end: is it only
the poor, and not the rich as well? Is it only the middle class and working class,
and not the nobility, the Junkers, the princes, the kings, the emperors as well? Only
the ranks represented by parties and organizations, and not also the common
people, any rowdy bunch of soldiers, the criminal fraternity, etc.? This very people,
sphinx though it be, is vaunted as the embodiment of the very idea of the state, as
if comprising all the virtuous, all the wise, all the angelically good; as if imbued
with ultimate perfection and maturity (why, then, are religious founders and
world thinkers necessary?)!
The middle class: for them everything has to be pre-digested, pre-believed, pre-
invented, and pre-discovered, pre-discussed, pre-lived, pre-loved, and pre-suered.
But it would never occur to them, because of their limited capacity and ineptitude,
to digest something for themselves, or to believe or love on their own initiative.
They possess no insight into the concept of nation, state, monarchy, republic, reli-
gion, art, knowledge, history, tradition, authority, etc. They confuse nation with
party, state with an institution for satisfying the prot motive
41
(for their own
prot!), {8} monarchy with king, nobility with nobles, higher realms with author-
ities, belief and church with priests. They are t only for scrabbling after prot, but
cannot use this to prot themselves or mankind. They are oblivious to anything
that belongs outside their own little world of prot. Anything they know, anything
they can do, they consider to be creative thinking, a feat. It is a feat if they nd
themselves ablelike a small childto express their wishes, longings, and dreams
in words, and promptly imagine themselvesagain, like the small childcapable
of anything, t to govern themselves and others, hence qualied for all ocial po-
sitions, instantly well-versed in any eld of knowledge and the arts (on business
aairs in the daytime, on the arts in the evening!), and believe themselves capable
of God knows what heroic deeds. It is a feat if they can depose the king and drive
out the nobility (millions of middle-class citizens against one king and a few hun-
dred nobles!) so as to commandeer their possessions and, surrounded by their new
acquisitions, devote themselves even more single-mindedly to greed, while at the
same time boasting of prudence and the needs of the state. It is a feat if the docile
worker goes to pay them back with the same coinage on which is emblazoned the
motto Make way for eciency,
42
but on the contrary makes way, especially the
way to power and inuence, for the least ecient people, the least likely candidates
for the title of genius, but all the closer to that of president and ministerial oce. It
is a feat if they feel themselves no match for an ecient person and simply resort
to murder just to get him out of the way. (When Cain saw that Abels oering was
more pleasing to the Lord, and so slew him, this was the rst democratic murder
of someone more capable; when the nations of the West saw that they could lie,
break promises, and rob better than the Germans but were still inferior to them in
knowledge and ability, they simply slew them in the manner of Cain.) These bour-
geois, then, these incompetent, ignorant, incorrigible, unfruitful, lying, corrupt,
megalomaniacal, murdering peoplea straight line leads from ignorance to mur-
derthese bourgeois have the temerity to equate only themselves with the state,
which is and should be more than just what the United Obsession with Prot
among the middle and working classes, much more than what the United Dimwit-
tedness of both groups can ever imagine it to be as they cry: Ltat cest moi!
43
tonwi lle 1
8
41
Bedrfnisanstalt fr Nutzen: Bedrfnisanstalt conventionally denotes public toilet, the impli-
cation being that prot should be laid on like a public utility.
42
Schenker is writing at a time when German currency was being devalued to the point of being al-
most worthless, and when towns and businesses issued their own currencies: 7,000 coins (and far more
paper money)known commonly as Notgeld or Kriegsgeldwere released between 1917 and 1922.
43
I am the state!: remark attributed to Louis xiv before the Parlement de Paris, April 13, 1655.
Die vereinigten Nutzschte and die vereinigte Begrissttzigkeit are both presumably jibes at the
United States (die Vereinigten Staaten).
But by their fruits ye shall know them!
44
One can see well enough, today, what democracy is.
And democracy as we can see it today was preached, understood, and prac-
ticed throughout recent centuries in the barren West; in the West, where not a
drop of true mothers milkthe milk that nourishes with such holy sweetness,
oering life and burgeoning growthreached the lips of that eternal suckling,
mankind; where no eective substitute was provided, merely stones; where as
an oblation only poison was oered. The genuinely shallow, quintessentially
French Enlightenment of the Encyclopedists, of the Rousseaus and Voltaires,
who are rightly proclaimed as the nest products of philistinism, the guillotine,
the Temple of Reason (needless to say, French reason, which under a Napoleon
preferred to go about robbing and plundering in quintessentially French fash-
ion)all of this ran along the lines of such democracy. Along those same lines ran
the obsessive commercial cunning of the Anglo-Saxons in England and North
America. However, because mediocre nations, just like mediocre individuals, love
to make out all that they experience and speak of as new, merely because they have
no idea how very frequently it has been experienced and spoken of before, so the
nations of the West, too, have declared their democracy as a rst, and up to now
and even today (as we see) have done the best business dealings with it. But what
have they achieved?
The dance of death of the uncreative has begun! The middle class and work-
ing class lock horns over prots; millions are ranged against millions, no longer
millions against just the few! {9} They still depend on gifts from kings and
princes, from artists and thinkers, giftsbeing uncultured, they know nothing of
all thisand still they consider plundering and pick-pocketing their special cre-
ative act. But what will they do when the stock of gifts has dwindled to nothing?

How, then, can the German nation save itself from this predicament, and at the
same time point the rest of humanity toward salvation?
Germany will achieve nothing by holding the emperor, his advisers, diplo-
mats, and military commanders accountable for the consequences of the nations
betrayal, any more than by hauling a Hindenburg or a Ludendor before the jus-
tice seat of the Sinzheimers, Cohns,
45
etc., etc. Rather, it should call the real be-
trayers to account. History will undoubtedly show Kaiser Wilhelm ii to have
brought greater honor to mankind than all the traitors within and outside Ger-
many and all the enemy nations put together;
it will achieve even less if it shoulders the full burden of war-guilt
46
and all
war crimes, just to oblige the enemy who in true Western democratic vein is
after nothing but his reparations (corriger la fortune)
47
; surely, for example,
the unimpeachable testimony of a Jaurs,
48
and the evidence of documents in
the Russian secret archives showing that the war was started (and many En-
glishmen and Americans conceded this) by the Russian order to mobilize, is-
sued at 7:15 in the evening on July 30 [1914], whereas the Austrian order was
not issued until 11:30 the following morning, not to mention by the many
other long premeditated maneuverings of the enemy nations, such as King
Edward viis encirclement of Germany,
49
agitation for war and revenge on the
The Mission of German Genius
9
44
Matthew 7.(16,) 20.
45
Perhaps a reference to Hermann Sinzheimer (1884 1950), editor of a Berlin newspaper, also
novelist and critic.
46
War-guilt: the acceptance by Germany and her allies of moral responsibility . . . for causing
all the damage to which the Allied and Associated Governments and their nationals have been sub-
jected . . . (Treaty of Versailles, Article 231). This formed the basis for the reparations clause (Article
232); see the following note. Germany repudiated the guilt clause during the 1920s.
47
To correct fate. Reparations: compensation will be made by Germany for all damage done to
the civilian population of the Allies and their property by the aggression of Germany by land, by sea,
and from the air (pre-Armistice agreement, November 5, 1918). The French, and in part the British,
argued for full indemnity (including cost of the Allied war eort, and pensions to servicemen and
their dependents), with a view to bankrupting and crippling Germany, an aim that America resisted.
The total gure was set at $30,000 million over a number of years to be determined, plus the supply
of 35 million tons of coal over twenty years to France. The Treaty of Saint-Germain with Austria, too,
had war-guilt and reparations clauses, but these were quickly abandoned. See A. Sharp, The Versailles
Settlement: Peacemaking in Paris, 1919 (London: Macmillan, 1991).
48
Jean Jaurs (18591914), French socialist leader, who at the failed Russian revolution of 1905 de-
clared: From this time forth, the Czar and the regime he represents are the outlaws of human soci-
ety. He strove, at the 1912 meeting of the International and elsewhere, to prevent the outbreak of war,
correctly predicting that without the use of reserves on front-line duty France would be terribly sub-
merged. He was assassinated by a nationalist youth on July 31, 1914.
49
Germany saw Edward vii as the prime architect of encirclement. Already, the Franco-Russian
alliance (1894) had contained Germany to west and east. The Anglo-French entente (1904) securing
their interests in North Africa began Germanys fears of encirclement, triggering the two Moroccan
crises; the Anglo-Russian entente (1907) regarding control of the Dardanelles, Afghanistan and Persia
intensied the fears. Germany saw its hopes of building a world empire restricted by agreements
among the nations of the triple entente. The German race to build a navy from 1905 in rivalry of the
British was intended to pierce the encirclement.
part of the French, the Pan-Slavs, the murder of the heir-apparent to the Aus-
trian throne,
50
etc., etc. Surely all of this shows the primary guilt as resting
with the entente.
51
It will do no good:
to go on casting stones at certain pacists who, instead of vigilantly watching
the entente as it (out of true democratic incompetence, but also with an eye
to more important interests in Asia and Africa) sows the seeds of renewed
wars in Europe and thus adds new and greater guilt to their original guilt,
know nothing more ethical, more Christian, more timely than to repeat yet
again yesterdays catalogue of lies, and to shift the blame for the World War on
to Germany and Austria aloneand why only this Austria, and not also that
of a Bilinsky
52
and a Masaryk?
53
(oh! the special ethics applied to German-
speaking lands!);
to go on letting our minds be poisoned against our business operations and
organizations (so much admired by the enemy itself) by certain writers un-
suspecting of our enemys resolve to wipe out these very enterprises so as to
drive us irrevocably into such dire poverty that our superior German spirit
must nally give up the ghost; it is these selfsame writers who, before we
know it, will be speaking enviously of the global expanse of the other nations,
and again pouring scorn on the Germany that they have betrayed for its
poverty and narrow connes;
or to let German humanity be condemned outright, as it is by certain philos-
ophers or philosophizing world-travelers who have clearly never reected on
the relationship between human propagating soil, elite group, and genius; it
would be better if these could nally see that humanity leads, so to speak, a
split life: genius and the remainder; that genius is something quite dierent
from the human propagating soil out of which it grows, just as for example
the oak tree is something quite new and {10} dierent from the mother earth
in which it takes root; that it is futile to demand of earth that it be both earth
and plant at the same time, and thus to demand that human propagating soil
be both soil and genius at the same time; that, nevertheless, only human
propagating soil of a particular makeup can produce this or that genius, just
as only a certain type of earth can yield a particular variety of fruit.
What is the good of preaching reconciliation
54
to Germany, of all nations,
instead of commending it rst to her enemies, or at least waiting until they nally
desist in their hatred? Germany has never hated. On the contrary, as no nation be-
fore it, Germany has made available to the intellect of all people the powerful su-
periority of its language, more original as it is, innitely surpassing all others in the
richness of its vocabulary and expressive powerbut has this spared Germany
the hatred of those ungrateful nations? Plainly, hatred in them is only a symptom
of envy, so that to abolish hatred they would rst have to root out envybut how
could such unoriginal, impotent people accomplish this? So let the German make
the best of a bad job and at least grant him the right of self-preservation, as na-
ture implanted it in all her creatures so that he might protect his very existence;
just let him not decry as hatred the instinctual self-preservation on the part of
any democratic Biedermeier of Western progress, or of those foreign friends who,
whenever their lies and unproductiveness are touched upon, resort to sturdy self-
preservation.
In view of this, it is absurd also to expect other nations to appreciate more
fairly, let alone to applaud, the fact that one exerts oneself and strives for new in-
tellectual attainments,new ideas. If not even the attainments of our great ones,
of our greatest ones, of our fellow great ones, indeed of the loftiest minds in all
the world, have so far succeeded in thisand one can see from the base behavior
of those nations that this is the case (but what is Germany to do if the intellect of
other nations is insucient to recognize German greatness and profundity?)
then there is only one cure: Back to school with them!with those democrati-
cally decrepit, spiritually stillborn nations, so that they can at last get their rst
inkling of German genius, greater than theirs as it is! To German school with
them! But in any case, when did robbery and plunder ever balk at genius or in-
tonwi lle 1
10
50
Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria (heir to the imperial throne, occupied by Franz Joseph)
and his wife, visiting Sarajevo, capital city of Bosnia-Herzegovina, were shot and killed in their car on
June 28, 1914, by Gavrilo Princip, who, with other student-nationalists, had been trained by Serbians
as part of a plot worked out several months earlier. Austria-Hungarys declaration of war on Serbia
on July 28 was the direct result; it launched the Third Balkan War, and in turn triggered World War I.
51
Entente: that is, Britain, Russia, and France, linked by treaty obligations in the event of attack
from Germany, or violation of Belgian neutrality, and agreements elsewhere.
52
Leon von Bilinsky (18461923), Galician-born imperial common nance minister of Bosnia-
Herzegovina 191218; advocate of military action against Serbia after the assassination of Franz Fer-
dinand.
53
Toms Garrygue Masaryk (18501937), philosopher-statesman, instrumental in dividing the
Austro-Hungarian Empire; personally negotiated in 1918 for the establishment of the Czechoslovak Re-
public, of which he was the founding president, reelected in 1920 (and again 1927, 1934). Schenker re-
minds us by his references to Bilinsky and Masaryk that Austria-Hungary was a multinational entity,
with Czechs, Hungarians, and South Slavs, as well as German-Austrianseleven nationalities in all.
54
Den Abbau des Hasses, literally the dismantling of hatred.
tellectual attainment? For it is all about money and possession. That is why the
spokesmen of todays nations can dispense with intellect in their speeches. Verily,
they have none themselves, and so ought not to speak of that of which they know
not. Were it otherwise, the world would not be crying out todaydespite
democracy, despite the rule of the people and the middle class, despite the ter-
rorism of the clenched sts (what reserves of talent, genius, knowledge, and abil-
ity those would betoken, were they not all mere lying and cheating!)for a
strong personality, a single person, indeed, the genius! The Germans would be
better o, after all, combating the rapacity of those nations with dierent
weapons, weapons more suited to the task in hand than merely intellectual ones.
Archimedes fell victim to the thrust of a soldiers dagger.
55
The family home of a
Goethe was deled during his lifetime, and again today, when lthy, stinking
French soldiers were billeted there (how clearly we see the ecaciousness of those
nobles traditions!). Thus we can see that Goethe was consistent with his political
beliefs when he valued more highly his proud consciousness of belonging to a
great, strong, respected, and feared nation than proering tiresome consola-
tion, knowledge, and strength.
It will achieve nothing
if the German newspapers couch their articles and feuilletons in language,
as one sees it everyday, heavily laced with French and English, {11} fawning
upon our enemies with such linguistic fealty;
if, instead of cherishing and speaking the one true language, the language of
a Luther, Lessing, Herder, Goethe, Schiller, etc., that most exalted of all lan-
guages, people on every street and in every schooland not just in business
schools that, apart from specialist needs, are the only places in which these
might appropriately be heardare now fooling around in French, trashy,
hidebound, and provincial as it is, and ill-equipped for the highest ights of
the intellect, or in that lowest of all languages, the depraved English language;
if, behind Western literature, the specter of German literature lurks as the
unshakeable, unmistakeable source of foreign borrowings, in which, thanks
in particular to certain foreign-born individuals, every bit of English or
French drivel in Dionysian, Apollonian, Expressionist, Impressionist fashion
is lauded to the skies in disparagement of German literaturehow much
more courageous, pleasing, and conducive to culture are the greatly derided,
upstanding German defendants of the genuine article than these German
foreign-copycats, habitus of Montmartre, and sensation-mongers!
if, in certain German book dealerships, French editors are actually employed
for the express purpose of propagating French literature;
in short, if by their use of language, people publicly parade their very foreign
servility, for which in times past German emperors and princes were so se-
verely castigated, but now do so to an unprecedentedly greater extent, with far
more detrimental eect, and with greater shame than ever before.
But, what is more, it will patently get us nowhere
even if in order to put yesterdays betrayal behind us we muster our courage
today against the advocate-republic of Poincar,
56
against Wilson, etc.
after all, we were obliged to recognize them yesterday.
even if our great ones, Goethe, Schiller, Jean Paul, Hlderlin, etc., are at last
restored to recognition as German, exclusively German, even universally Ger-
man, and are invoked in the rekindling and uplifting of German courage;
and equally well, even if, as in certain international newspapers, leader-writers
arrogantly oer quack recipes, so as to make something nally out of the rev-
olution that nobody really wanted,
57
since it is here to stay (only a German
democrat, only a newspaper ponticator, could picture something touched
by aristocratic genius, something Bismarckian, as a creative profession!).
Futile it is, too, to emulate the supposedly engaging, rened qualities of our
enemies, their sang-froid, their ability to cut a gure on the dance oor. Anyone
not summoned to the highest of callings, who has consequently to go around
lying, cheating, and betraying willy-nilly, is also obliged to adopt captivating
forms if he wishes to take his victim in. This is just how it is with the Western
nationsbut what is this sham behavior to the conscientious, honorably indus-
trious German if not condence trickery? Is a manicured Wilson any bit worthier
than an unmanicured German man of honor? Why is it that not one of these na-
The Mission of German Genius
11
55
During the siege of Syracuse in 212 bc, Archimedes was stabbed to death by a Roman soldier
while drawing a mathematical gure in the sand. Schenker uses Dolchsto, a word with powerful res-
onances after 1918, in that the army, especially the ocer corps, developed a theory that it had been
stabbed in the back by the civil government, and by the national press, which had called for an
armistice when the German army might have gone on ghting to victory. He refers more specically
to a Dolchsto von hinten in the essay on Mozarts Piano Sonata in A minor (Tonwille 2, p. 22/p. 69),
in his hostile critique of Hugo Riemanns remarks on the work.
56
Raymond Poincar (18601934), president of France 191320, later premier and foreign minis-
ter 192224.
57
Presumably the Berlin revolution of November 1918, and perhaps more generally the series of
revolutions that followed, which led to the establishment of the Weimar Republic in January 1919.
tions, in order to unmask the deceitfulness of the others, will show itself by its
manner, bearing, and handshake to be without hypocrisy or mawkishness, with-
out perdy?
Least of all can it avail the German anything to cloak himself, as if in mim-
icry, with the democratic mind of the West. Will the German democrat never see
that Germanys enemiessancta simplicitas: canonization of Joan of Arc,
58
can-
onization of Jan Hus in the orthodox church!
59
would just love to have Ger-
many, indeed the whole of Germanity, lock, stock, and barrel, burned at the stake,
so as to free themselves once and for all of German intellect? If he is insuciently
educated to have learned the lessons of history, then are {12} the spot-checks car-
ried out since Armistice Day still not enough for him to gauge the democratic
mentality of Germanys enemies? Does he still feel no shame over democracy,
even just the name alone? Does he feel no shame at aligning himself with morally
decadent nations that in rewarding the treachery of the Austrian Slavs dare to
foist upon Germans in Austria a wholly unconstitutional name (Austria in-
stead of German-Austria), as if they were branding a beast for the slaughter?
nations that for their own monetary advantage forcibly detach nations from
centuries-old political structures, only to turn around and push them into other
similar political unions, etc.? And besides, if democracy is really what was exem-
plied by those Western nations before, during, and after Versailles, then let the
German democrat simply take a good look at democracy and do exactly what he
sees Americans, Frenchmen, Englishmen, Italians, Poles, Czechs, etc. doing. Let
him break promises, violate treaties, infringe international law, steal private prop-
erty, falsify maps, deface monuments, desecrate war-graves, lie, and commit mur-
der as they do, and use words most pleasing unto man and God in the process,
just as they doperhaps he can then gauge, from the disgust that he as a demo-
crat of their ilk would nevertheless arouse in them, the disgust that he as a Ger-
man of that (with all due respect) democracy would surely evoke from the
cesspool of the West!
It is altogether perverse to concede rights, rights of all sorts, exclusively to our
enemies: the right to self-determination, to organizations such as the big and little
ententes,
60
to secret and public alliances and military conventions, to world su-
premacy, imperialism, international world police force, domination, nationalism,
chauvinism, strategic borders, other protections, protections of protections, colo-
nies, raw materials, militarism, revenge, incitement to war (even before the war,
France, as the smaller of the two nations, had more soldiers than Germany, and
still today it maintains 800,000 men
61
), navalism, blockade (which even Wilson
called illegal!
62
), blackmail of all kinds, classication of archives, the miracle of
the Marne,
63
victory at Skagerrak,
64
Fochiade on the Rhine (what suitable
material for a comedy: How Mr. Foch Arrived at the Rhine),
65
the law. It is per-
verse to concede them the right to rampage about Gods free earth at will and
without compunction: with unprincipledness, moral insanity, presumption, ar-
rogance and loutishness (vide the English), with abusive tongue-lashing and
horse-whippery (vide the French), with rowdy hooliganism (vide the Italians and
Slavs), vandalizing the cultural riches of German high schools (vide certain En-
tente ocers), etc. It is perverse, on top of all these, to concede them the right to
claim for themselves exclusive originality, inspiration,ideas, the gift of inven-
tion and discovery, culture and civilization, a monopoly of the true love of peace,
freedom and justice (traditional justice), the ability to know the minds of all
tonwi lle 1
12
58
Joan of Arc (141231), tried, excommunicated, and burned at the stake for heresy in 1431; can-
onized by the Catholic Church on May 9, 1920.
59
Jan Hus (c. 13691415), early Protestant reformer, excommunicated in 1411 for his preaching in
Bohemia, then burned at the stake in Constance for heresy in 1415. The University of Prague declared
him a martyr, and the modern Czechoslovak church, which was formed at the time that the new
Czech state was created, claims to continue this tradition.
60
The two postwar European political alliances were: (big) France-Britain-Italy-Belgium (de-
riving from the wartime entente cordiale), and (little) Czechoslovakia-Yugoslavia (Serbia/Croatia/
Slovenia)-Rumania. The initial step in founding the latter came on August 14, 1920, but the name
little entente was rst used contemptuously of this alliance in a Hungarian newspaper on February
21, 1920, and was soon widely adopted. See Robert Machray, The Little Entente (London: Allen &
Unwin, 1929).
61
Cf. note 40.
62
The term illegal is not in the Fourteen Points (see note 82), nor does it appear in Wilsons
speeches or communications around the time in question; but the commentary on the Points pre-
pared by Walter Lippmann and Frank Cobb around October 23, 1918, may have used it. If so, it was
scotched by Lloyd George immediately.
63
Battle fought September 69, 1914, halting the German month-long advance through Belgium
and into France, and march on Paris; widely heralded as the miracle of the Marne by politicians and
writers.
64
Battle of Skagerrak (strait between Norway and Denmark), German name for the Battle of Jut-
land, the only major confrontation between British and German navies, fought May 31, 1916, in which
the British eet, although numerically superior, suered heavy losses.
65
Fochiade: Ferdinand Foch (18511929), French general, chief postwar advocate for the annexa-
tion by France of all territory to the West of the Rhine River, and the establishment of a Rhineland
state (see also note 94). The sux -iade implies a celebration or competition (e.g., Olympiade);
Wie Herr Foch am Rhein kam follows a generic title for farce and comedy (e.g., How the Camel Got
Its Hump).
peoples (even that of the Germans?), and to dedicate oneself unselshly to their
well-being, etc., etc.
On the other hand, it is thoroughly perverse to picture oneself demoted to
common house servant, even yard dog, forced to show servility and self-depreca-
tion (utterly inappropriately) toward one of those nations, for example, in defer-
ence to the constant mistrustfulness displayed by French people,one has only
to read all about this in The Fate of France in the Year 1870 by Gobineau, a French-
man,
66
and compare it to the mistrustfulness of todaywhich is surely nearer to
cowardice than to bravery; or, so as not to disturb thieves, robbers, and murder-
ers in their pleasant enjoyment of their booty, namely, to sacrice that German
imperial unity so bravely won in recent times by our great and noble intellects;
or to pursue that most deplorable of policies, particularism;
67
or to betray Prus-
sianness (the one true dynamic force among all Germans) or deny the right to
self-determination in the {13} Saarland, the South Tyrol, in German Bohemia,
and in Alsace;
68
or to be ashamed of national pride, maligning it in a derisively
French manner as chauvinism and in a derisively German manner as Pan-
Germanism; to give up the right to celebrate as and when we want our heroes
past and present, our Hindenburgs and Ludendors, in reverence and gratitude
as bets such great men, even to do so in Pan-German spirit; to give up the right
to travel the world freely like them, even if we choose to bluster and bellow and
boast like them; to give up the right to promulgate to all and sundry what great
and supreme things Germans have contributed to humanity over countless cen-
turies, proclaiming their originality in word and deed, the greater profundity of
their artists, thinkers, inventors, discoverers, etc., etc.
Are we really to believe, then, that such total self-abasement is the way to put
an end for ever to the lie of the enemy, a lie that is too big, too uncomfortable
even for the liars themselves, such that they make it out to be something other
than it really is?

Only a fool would expect the salvation of Germany and humanity from an
understanding among nations. Back during the World War, did we not pin our
hopes on the nations to rise above purely national interests in ensuring the vic-
tory of certain humanitarian principles? And did not the nations fail in precisely
this? But it could never have been otherwise: how could nations that, as popu-
laces incapable of lofty reasoning or nobler thoughts, took covetousness and
gluttony as their sole yardsticks, ever have reached agreement over the questions
that mattered most to them: possession and power? Add to this that nature
knows no gaps,
69
and her rst word is also her nal word: as little as, for example,
an Eichendor or a Mrike could ever have become a Goethe, or a Mendelssohn
a Beethoven, even less could an Anglo-Saxon, a Frenchman, an Italian, or a Slav
have by a miracle become something dierent, something higher than he was
before and still is now. It is imperative, therefore, to convince the German people
that its enemies of yesterday and today, the foes of its superiority, will remain its
enemies tomorroweternal enemies!
Let us take a closer look:
The Englishman in principle and in practicethe Magna Carta for himself,
the noose round their necks for the other nations; his house is his castle, but
everybody elses house is his as welloers no insight into this arid, depraved
breed of mankind. England and true culture are as inimical as venality and pro-
bity. There is nothing more loathsome, nothing more nauseating, than the En-
glishman who, his prey safely in his lair, changes his tune and protests allegiance
to humanity, culture, and religion, as when English scholars (orthodox Oxford
oxen, as Schopenhauer dubbed them), having only yesterday bitten the hand
generously outstretched to them by German scholars, today (dont forget: his loot
safely in the bag!) ingenuously reach out their own hand as if (needless to say)
they were the rst to oer reconciliation, brotherhood, morality, and culture. Oh,
The Mission of German Genius
13
66
Joseph-Arthur, comte de Gobineau (181682), minister for foreign aairs in 1849; published
Essai sur lingalit des races humaines (185355), which earned him the epithet father of racist ideol-
ogy. His incomplete Ce qui est arriv la France en 1870, rst published in Nachgelassene Schriften des
Grafen Gobineau, ed. L Schemen (Strasbourg, 1918), spoke of France as a decaying society, and
claimed that the French ruling class was unsuited to sustaining Frances self-styled intellectual supe-
riority because descended from Gallo-Roman slaves. He asserted: envy is an essential malady of the
Latin races; Prussians were the natural leaders of Germany and Austria-Hungary, and had no need
of democracy (a view he began to doubt after 1870). See Michael D. Badiss, Father of Racist Ideology:
The Social and Political Thought of Count Gobineau (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1970).
67
The principle of leaving each state in an empire or federation free to retain its own government,
laws, and rights, and to promote its own interests, without reference to those of the whole (OED).
68
The Saarland was ceded to the League of Nations, and its mines to France, with a plebiscite after
fteen yearssee Schenkers comment on the Saarland, later; the South Tyrol passed to Italy; the
Sudetenland (German Bohemia) to Czechoslavakia; Alsace reverted to France. Schenker implies
that all four peoples would have chosen unication with Germany.
69
Die Natur keine Sprnge kennt natura non facit saltum, that is, nature, in its evolution, does
not proceed by leaps: Linnaeus, Philosophia Botanica (Stockholm, 1751), 77, but traceable back to
Jacques Tissot, Discours vritable sur la vie (Lyon, 1613).
what a miserable toad the Englishman is! What a pity poor German-Austrian
children today have, for the sake of better nourishment, to breathe the suocat-
ing air of the jackals
70
who strangled them yesterday! Oh, when will the nations
cast o this shameful tyranny, when will they burst their bonds of slavery asun-
der in order to snatch for themselves {14} more air, light, water, earth, dignity, and
honor? I would have thought that one concerted eort by all would have done
the trick . . .
Anyone who would pin his hopes on the French is also a fool. On Septem-
ber 2, 1870, Bismarck said to the commander-in-chief of the defeated French
army: France has declared war on Germany thirty times in the past two hundred
years, and this time you declared it as always out of jealousy, because you could
not forgive us our victory at Sadowa.
71
And yet Sadowa cost you nothing, and
could not have impaired your reputation. But you saw victory as a legacy to
which you had sole right, as if you held a monopoly of military prowess. You
could not bear to see another nation as strong as yourself arise on your borders.
You have not yet forgiven us for Sadowa, where neither your interests nor your
reputation were at stake: are you any more likely to forgive us your defeat at
Sedan?
72
Never! However the current negotiations turn out, France is sure to de-
clare war again as soon as it feels strong enough. Bismarck, genius that he was,
knew the peace-loving and chivalrous French better than did the mediocre
ranks of German democrats, social democrats, and other harborers of French
ideas. So for him it was a foregone conclusion that the French, down to their last
crippled soldier, would try to steal back the German city of Strasbourg, stolen by
Louis xiv, for the umpteenth time (dsannexationrevanche, dsannexation
revanche, dsannexationrevanche, etc., ad innitum), for the simple reason that
the French really do not know any noble pastimes other than vaunting their lust
after gloire,
73
which is engendered not by bravery but by mere philistinism. The
simple-minded French would just loveoh, how they would love!to do away
with the Germans once for allyes, one actually hears such cannibalistic asser-
tions!except that in their dullwittedness they do not realize that the German
giant,
74
though no longer with us in the esh, will continue to shine over us with
greater ardour than even their most ardent midgets and philistines.
And who would dream of pinning their hopes on help coming from certain
modern French writers belonging to a group called Clart? Clarity courtesy of
French mediocrity? A Kant can see clearly, a Goethe, a Bach, a Haydn, a Mozart
but alas for the clarity of a Rousseau or Voltaire, still less that of a Romain Rol-
land, Barbusse, etc.!
75
If clarity means abject surrender to something that can be
achieved only by negating ones individuality, then the French languagethe
supreme rule of which is: eect, especially eect on others of the opposite sex
is intrinsically unsuited to accurately perceiving and promoting genuine clarities.
This is why even in the best of Frenchmen the mediocre ways of French propa-
gating soil still show through, and all that is left for him is rhetoric, the bon mot,
the stylish gesture, mere empty talk
76
as camouage for what he really is, as gar-
rulous papering-over of his essential mediocrity, as a sort of desperate harangu-
ing so as to make himself out more than he is. Such things can be seen in the me-
diocre individual who casts around him, clutching at anything and everything
because he does not know in which direction to go with it; and in human medi-
ocrity as a whole, which kicks over the traces with democracy, Marxism, commu-
nism, etc., and declares itself unregenerately elitethe elite. Their military vic-
tories, their conquests, are nothing but hot air. Napoleon himself won only hollow
victories; what is more, for him as a true parvenu (Moltkes
77
word) even the
imperial throne and his union with an emperors daughter
78
were only so much
hot air. (Goethe, the man of light and of order, actually admired him as the hero
tonwi lle 1
14
70
Schakalen-Wrger, literally jackal-stranglers: the Allied powers, who had deprived their ene-
mies of the essentials of life during the war.
71
Sadowa ( Kniggrtz), the site of the Prussian armys defeat of Austria in 1866, at which Bis-
marck dictated the peace terms.
72
Sedan: town in northeast France, site of the decisive battle of the Franco-Prussian War, Sep-
tember 2, 1870.
73
Gloire-Brunst: see note 14.
74
That is, Bismarck.
75
Romain Rolland (18661944), novelist, dramatist, Nobel Prize winner in 1915; Henri Barbusse
(18731935), novelist and poet, one of whose novels is Clart (1919), and who launched a journal of
the same name (191927). He founded the movement Clart in 1919, emulating the Encyclopaedists
and the spirit of the Enlightenment; its membership including Rolland, Raymond Lefbvre, Jules Ro-
mains, Georges Duhamel, Maurice Maeterlinck, E. D. Morel, Bertrand Russell, H. G. Wells, Heinrich
Mann, and Stefan Zweig, and rising to nearly 5,000 in France alone at its height. It disintegrated in
1920, when Barbusse turned to communism.
Schenker wrote at length about the part played by Rolland in exposing Stendhals plagiarism of
Giuseppe Carpanis early biography of Haydn; see Tonwille 4, pp. 2830/i, pp. 16769.
76
Die Phrase, as well as the phrase, colloquially denoted hot air, empty talk, idle chatter,
and so on, as several times used in the passage that follows.
77
Helmuth Karl Bernhard, Graf von Moltke (180091), German eld marshall in the Franco-
Prussian War, whose writings are extensive and include a history of that war.
78
Marie-Louise, daughter of Francis ii, Holy Roman emperor, whom Napoleon married on April
12, 1810, after the dissolution of his marriage to Josephine.
who at least knew how to dene {15} a goal from out of the chaos of revolution,
and how to bring indignant, rebellious French human propagating soil back into
line.) Just take a look at the public pronouncements of the latest members of
Clart in Franceonly rhetoric, stale formulas, as old as human mediocrity it-
self: will you set any store by these French fashioners of high-own verbiage?
79
Should we perhaps look to the United States of America for salvation? Still
in the era of Washington and Lincoln, lagging far, far behind the European na-
tions and races, all of whom have proud pasts to look back on, Americas vast
population has never had a monarchy to consolidate her as a nation proper.
Groping through the vale of ignorance, driven on by greed, propelled forward
by the prot-motive as if by a million hurtling Niagara Falls, she will never at-
tain the intellectual and moral ascendancy needed to contribute to the higher
goals of mankind.
Just look at her today: she has settled the war to the advantage of the dollar,
having only ever entered it with that in mind. She has enslaved all the nations of
Europe, and is busy buying up all their cultural assets and artifacts. (If the boot
were on the other foot, would there have been anything in America worth Eu-
ropes buying up?) Now, instead of helping her slaves, she cynically trots out her
Monroe doctrine,
80
having disregarded it up to now. Far from physically re-
straining their former partners-in-robbery who now commit imperialistic acts of
violence, the Americans, unbending moralists that they are, appease them by yet
again waving some moralizing piece of paper at them just to keep up appear-
ancesoh, if only they had adopted Monroe as their own moral standard instead
of wearying the world with it!and they send us alms while withholding the es-
sentials of life . . . that says it all!
81
We now know how Wilsons notorious Four-
teen Points
82
came about: how they were rst mooted by one Edgar Lisson,
member of the Committee on Public Information in Russia, via Mr. George Creek,
director of the same committee in Washington,
83
and how they were designed
solely to sway opinion in the army and in the Russian and German hinterland,
and in no sense for the greater good of mankind. So we can safely assume that if
Americas commercial interests are ever again exposed to serious danger,
84
as at
the beginning of the World War, some other president will speak lies at Wilsons
grave and, despite the Monroe Doctrine, will call for a new dollar crusade, and
will dream up a new set of Fourteen Points . . .
Can the Italians help in any way? You only have to look at the expropriation
of the South Tyrol to know that there, too, self-determination and democracy are
to be understood only as . . . sticking to a treaty.
Thus no true understanding is ever to be had with these nations. No matter
how much German soil they may grab or how many inhabitants they may as-
similate, no matter even if they reduce Germany once more to a parade ground
for their rapacious armies, they will never have enough. For their evil proclivities
allow them no peace, no true culture, which, along with an ungrudging accept-
ance of ones neighbor, is the precondition of an honorable understanding.
And the League of Nations? The same old thief s mottowait till the booty
is in the bag, then let order commencemakes it a mere memorial (or emblem
of shame) to the antipathy toward culture displayed at Versailles. But has a truly
great idea ever been born of such shame? Before all else, a league of nations
would have had to fulll the cardinal requirement of all religions: that is, the na-
tions calling it into being would have had rst of all, even before convening the
rst session, to make a humble and abject apology to the whole of mankind and
especially to the {16} German people, for all the dishonor heaped upon it, and
secondly to restore all that had been stolen. But is it only a matter of theft? Is it
not the League of Nations that also, for example, placed the lthy French in such
oash control of Germanys Saarland, and permitted in the regions occupied by
them the ignominy of its black troops
85
the advance party of its genitalitis, of
The Mission of German Genius
15
79
Phrasenschellentrger, idiomatic neologism with doubly satirical force: Schellentrger (bell-
wearers) signies court jesters, but also Old Testament Jewish high priests who attached bells to their
clothes (see Exodus 28.33), the latter particularly apposite, since Schenker often adopted the tone of
an Old Testament prophet.
80
See note 33.
81
See note 47.
82
Woodrow Wilson (see notes 34 and 62) presented his Fourteen Points to Congress in a speech
on January 8, 1918. They were then disseminated throughout the world. Avoiding such terms as vic-
tory, defeat, reparations, or trials, Wilson set out a basis for peace, including absolute freedom of the
seas and open covenants of peace, openly arrived at, the fourteenth point being establishment of
a general assocation of nations. The Allies were forced to accept these points as the basis of the Ver-
sailles negotiations.
83
Both names are spelled wronglyEdgar (Grant) Sisson, George Creelbut their assignments
are given correctly; see Creel, How We Advertised America (New York: Harper, 1920). Wilson seems in
fact to have worked on the Fourteen Points with his closest adviser, Edward House, beginning Janu-
ary 4, 1918, assisted by a memorandum from Sidney E. Mezes, David Hunter Miller, and Walter Lipp-
mann. All the drafts are reproduced in The Papers of Woodrow Wilson, vol. 45 (Princeton, NJ: Prince-
ton University Press, 1984), pp. 476539; see also A Day of Dedication: The Essential Writings of
Woodrow Wilson, ed. A. Fried (New York: Macmillan, 1965), pp. 31521.
84
Ein grosses Geschft (machen): childs euphemism for defecation.
85
Presumably troops from Frances African colonies; see notes 15 and 40.
the esh of its esh, of the cannibal spirit of its spirit
86
and similarly allowed all
the impudent incursions by Czechs, Poles, Yugoslavs, etc.? Then, prudently, after
fteen years, by which time of course Italian and French banditry will have erad-
icated all trace of German character from the stolen territory, the League will step
on to the world stage full of moral righteousness and cynically oer those regions
the right to self-determination.
87
Finally, it will complacently sign away the prop-
erty of others to the thieving nations in accordance with the new status quo.
And in the nal analysis, the League of Nations would be entirely superuous
if the democracy of those nations were really founded on truth, and if Englands
traditional justice, Americas morality, Frances love of peace, Italys pro-
bity, etc. were genuine, since with so much virtue going around conict simply
could not take hold. Hence it is impossible to banish ones suspicions about this
new creation by the West. In fact, those nations realize that everybody has at last
seen through the lies and trickery of their democracy, so they are forced to invent
new lies in order to maintain their deception; the West likes to slip into new cul-
tural evening dress the moment its old garb shows signs of wear. From now on,
there should again be new progress, new justice and love of peace, new democ-
racya Western brand, be it noted, but always with the booty safely under lock
and key, for the English would never have joined the League of Nations in the rst
place had they not procured in advance the means of forcing all parties to recog-
nize their spoils of war. That is what the Anglo-Saxons hold over the League,
and it will stigmatize it for ever. It will be a symbol of Anglo-Saxon benighted-
ness, a symbol of the agony of man. Babies in cradles, children in schools and
playgrounds, men in places of art and science, of commerce and industry will
ght for breath, suocated by the lie of the League of Nations: day will be turned
compulsorily into night, night into day, deceit will perforce replace truth, rob-
bery honest business, ignorance culture, breach of promise morality, murder self-
determination. The lie will consume all mens talentsif I may put it this way,
human excreta will spread across the face of Gods earth; man, by the grace of
the people, will become every inch an ass, corrupted by protand he will lisp
in English! Oh, the iron grip of the Anglo-Saxons, democracy by lies, the trivial
West, the barrenness of the West!
In search of a real cleansing of the polluted atmosphere, who would waste
time looking to the numerous conferences of churches, libertarians, pacists,
workers, etc. that have become so fashionable these days? Do creative individuals
ever speak at conferences? No: those who attend are mostly people who like the
sound of their own voices. For the rest of the time they compensate for their own
inadequacies by delighting in destroying, almost systematically, anything that a
creative individual might advocate. They spare no thought for healing wounds,
the causes of which completely elude them. Instead, they think of nothing but
lies, lies of any sort. Here again, it is the Anglo-Saxons who make the real eorts
to bring in the nations just so that they can be seen the way they like to be seen,
busily making deals: the world in their control, {17} lled with their justice, their
wisdom, their culture, and everybody benetting from the work of their hand.
Whether the German social democrats still wear sackcloth and ashes at such con-
ferences and take war-guilt upon themselves is no longer even an issue beside the
powerful craving of conferences for the balm of the lie. If there were no confer-
ences, a human race as totally ineectual as this one todayand when was there
ever one more devoid of talent?would still have to get together every so often
just to get their story straight, whether it was still the old lie or some new one.
Might we perhaps expect help and support from the German working class?
Certainly not so long as they take pride in their betrayal, so long as it is a matter
of complete indierence to them (according to one of their leaders) that, while
living among us on Germany soil, they purvey their labor for German or French,
American or Polish capitalists. Oh, this st!
88
It can do its work anywhere: in Ger-
many, or equally well in other countries or parts of the world. With no head or
heart or roots, how could it possibly understand that a Kant or Goethe, a Haydn
or Mozart or Beethoven could work and breathe only in Germany! This explains
why the German Marxist during the War, when it came to wages, asked only one
question: For whom, then, do I ght and die?, but never felt the need to ask the
other question, which ought to have been more important for him: For whom
shall I live and work in peace?
Oh, the st! In front of his own child, the fruit of his loins, one ought to have
asked him, the worker, whether he could nd it in his heart, whether it made
sense to him to teach as father to child, that hand and st were as important as
head. Let him say under oath whether he goes along with this! Woe to him if he
tonwi lle 1
16
86
Note the biblical language, for example: This is now bone of my bones and esh of my esh,
Genesis 2.23.
87
That is, the plebiscite to be oered under the Versailles Treaty to all the inhabitants of the Saar-
land after fteen years. See notes 65 and 68.
88
Faust: traditionally, a word that connotes brute force, compulsion, and independence. The
clenched st was used as a symbol for workers movements at this time.
can and does! But if he cannot, then he is a hypocrite if in search of a raise in
wagessomething that clearly can be pursued and achieved by other means
he is prepared to visit on the body of mankind, on the body of state, the lie that
he is unwilling to inict on his child. If it had been possible back then to put the
same question likewise under oath to Karl Marx, who was blessed with many
children, before he began his work, how much misery would the world have been
spared! However, in downgrading society with his invention of class, this
wretched man also downgraded himself;
89
and centuries, millenia from now he
will surely be counted not among the benecent thinkers in human history but
as one of its misguided punchers,
90
a champion of brute force.
For a start, German workers would have to face up completely to all of this.
Then they would have to understand that the despicable lie of capitalist middle-
class people so inimical to culture cannot be rectied merely by being compared
to the even more despicable lie of the working class allegedly so creative. This is
every bit as perverse as making the state, which the working class itself reduced
to penury through its betrayal, now an object of (in any case vain) experiments
that presuppose a robust economy. Fueled by righteous indignation, the work-
ers would next have to bring their own leaders to account, and depose those who
for personal gain (money, position, or perquisites) nurtured in them such self-
betrayal, and drove them to commit such folly;
91
a folly by which they nally
brought shame, servitude, and poverty down on themselves and on all those
other Germans who, even in their hour of greatest need, had no truck with the
workers, let alone with the class-warrior himself, Marx; a folly that has succeeded
only in furthering imperialismat any rate that of our enemies.
But surely the German worker of today lacks all the necessary qualications
for this task? It would be a waste of time now to set up new schools for the work-
ers leaders. They would come too late, at any rate to avoid the destruction that
has already been wrought, {18} too late even to serve as a voluntary admission of
the ineectuality and inferiority of workers leaders today. So for the time being
we must abandon all hope of German workers contributing anything to the re-
building of the world that they have betrayedone need only look at how these
little Marx-clones
92
today recognize only one goal, namely to force their way up
the social ladder by deceit and become middle class, unsuspecting that if they
all eventually became middle class, not to say all Wilsons, Lloyd Georges, and
Clemenceaus,
93
the world would nally be a human pigsty.

Only one thing can be of service: recognition of the truth!

It is time that Germans freed themselves from the illusion that all men and all
nations are equal. This is no truer than to say that all ants, mushrooms, rocks, etc.
are equal. Were they all equal, then the state would surely need to revoke equal-
ity and assign unequal tasks and duties to individuals. The state, in human soci-
ety, unlike for example a bee colony, is never purely natural: it is always only an
artifact of human devising, a synthetic creation.
Let Germans be alive to the superior quality of their human propagating soil;
let them appreciate that even if they were all to become self-betrayers, traitors,
Dortens,
94
even if South Germans and North Germans were to secede from one
another, and all political parties and organizations fragment, even if all German
literature were extinguished and replaced by foreign, and all Germans succumbed
to total loss of self-respect, and altogether forsook their language, and started
speaking exclusively in English, French, Italian, Polish, Czech, Japanese, or what-
ever; on the day that these things came to pass, Germany as the nation of Luther,
Leibniz, Goethe, Schiller, Kant, of Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms,
would set like the sun, would sink like a spiritual Himalayan mountain range into
eternity, irretrievable and unattainable by the other nations! (Jean Paul: The Ger-
man language, in all its subtlety of nuance, appears somewhat indeclinable to
other peoples; for Goethe and Herder and Klopstock and Lessing cannot be fully
enjoyed in any language other than German, and it is not only our aesthetic cos-
The Mission of German Genius
17
89
Schenker is punning on deklassieren (to disadvantage, downgrade) and Klasse (class, as a di-
vision of society).
90
Schenker places Gehirnzellen (brain cells) and Faustzellen (st cells) in rhetorical opposi-
tion here.
91
That is, the overthrow of the government and monarchy in November 1919, and the declaration
of a republic.
92
Marx-Homunkulusse: a homunculus is a diminutive, but otherwise fully grown, human being.
93
Woodrow Wilson was the son of a Presbyterian minister and became an academic political sci-
entist; Georges Clemenceau was the son of a man with revolutionary political leanings and qualied
as a medical doctor before turning to professional politics; David Lloyd George came from humble
Welsh working-class origins and was brought up by a shoemaker.
94
Dr. Hans Abraham Dorten, minor German ocial who, at the behest of the French generals
seeking to subvert the Allies policy at the Versailles Conference, carried out a political coup dtat in
the Rhineland, declared an independent Rhenish republic with its capital in Wiesbaden, and appealed
for French protection. He accomplished this on June 1, 1919, but the French government quickly put
a stop to the new republic.
mopolitanism [our world friendship] that distinguishes us from the other na-
tions, but also our aesthetic national distinctiveness.)
Let the German people be guided by history and what history has to tell us
through our superior thinkers, artists, and historians; let them especially learn
the lessons of the World War and so construct a true picture of the other nations,
i.e. the Anglo-Saxons, the French, the Italians, the Slavs, etc. Then they will dis-
cover that these peoples all lack power of creativity at the very highest level of ge-
nius. Genius is possessedness, demonic nature, God in ones bosom. However,
God spoke only with Moses and not with Aaron: no Anglo-Saxon, French, or
Italian mother could ever carry in her womb a Moses, a Christ, or a Luther, a Bud-
dha, a Confucius, or a Lo-Tzse, nor yet a Bach, a Mozart, a Goethe, or a Kant.
(Not even after intermarrying black racial stock with gloire-esprit could a French
mother achieve this!)
95
From this, let Germans infer why it is that those nations
had to derive their belief in God from the peoples of the East, who were the rst
to teach the ennobling association of God and man: and at the same time why it
is that they understand only one biblical passage from their adopted religion:
Everything that lives and moves . . . I have given you it all.
96
from which they
understand you to mean themselves alone. From this it must also become clear
to them why it is that those nations, through lesser capacity for genius, or (which
amounts to the same thing) lack of true nobility of spirit and morality, must fall
into the lie of {19} the people, of middle class, and so into democracy, which
sees the middle class as the heart of the state, the middle classs prot as the con-
tent of the state, and nancial dealings within the middle class as the sum total of
human wisdom; and why it is that they use their magna carta, their doctrine of
revolution, their Monroe Doctrine solely for business trickery.
But from all of this let Germans conclude that they themselves are too good
for democracy. Anyone who, like them, despite all the evidence of history still
could not see the sort of deception that democracy practices, even as it ap-
proaches, ought certainly not to take up this form of lying. Anyone who, like them,
takes a book by Karl Marxwhich is after all only a bookso much to heart that
they sink into shame and slavery because of it, democracy is not for them. Let
them not even try, in the German fashion, to read some deeper moral meaning
into democracy; for every attempt is sure to founder on the unt intermediary, on
the people, on the middle class, and as long as each middle-class person, each in-
dividual, is no Spinozaand who would even think of the whole of humanity as
entirely made up of aristocrats or geniuses?!any form of human government
that is designed solely for the middle class will lead only to shame and ruin.
Nor do Germans need some kind of school for politics. Not one at which
Wilsonism, Georgeism, and Clemenceauism are taught, at any ratebut what is
democracy without such mendacious trump cards? No, to arrive at democracy
one really does have to have entered the world an Anglo-Saxon, Frenchman, or
Italian!
Rather, Germans must realize that there is only one betrayal of nation, namely
not knowing what nation itself means. They must strive to stamp out the piti-
able lie of the people completely if they are not to bring about a Dark Ages of
even greater suering (an era characterized precisely by the lie of the people)
and with it a betrayal of culture. They must bend all their religious, intellectual,
and moral resources to the task of communicating the concept of nation once and
for all in all its fullness, so that it encompasses not only brawnthe middle class
as the brawn of the intellectual, the working class as the brawn of the middle
classbut also intellectuals, king, and aristocracy as equally good parts of na-
tion, if not better ones.
Let them make of their nation a model for all, let them prepare it for the rst
time ever for monarchy in its pure form, free of intermediaries of any sort: for
monarchy, for which the nations of the earth are as unready now as ever before,
as also for some form of religion and morality.
Let them wisely yield to the natural urge, present in every human, to rise ever
higher, still higher, to the highest possible realms;
97
and trusting in their innate
upward-aspiring powers (in contrast to the downward-dragging forces of the
middle and working classes) they will nevertheless succeed, without forfeiting
their freedom and dignity, without losing their capacity as state citizens, as reli-
gious people, in crowning their very own selves in their king, in their intellectual
princes: a true monarchy will at long last exist when everyone has, through his
king, himself become king.
tonwi lle 1
18
95
See notes 15 and 40 on Senegal and reference to marriage relationships.
96
Genesis 9.3: The ellipsis is ironic. The complete passage is: Alles, was sich reget und lebet, das sei
eure Speise; wie das grne Kraut habe ichs euch alles gegeben. (Everything that lives and moves will be
food for you. Just as I gave you the green plants, I now give you everything.)
97
. . . Hherem. . . Hherem. . . Hchsten: Schenker is talking of social levels, and his language re-
calls the mode of royal imperial address: Ihre Knigliche-Kaiserliche Hoheit (Your Royal Imperial
Majesty), and Kaiser Wilhem iis appellation as Der Allerhchste (The All Highest).
Let them observe how nature has covered the interior of the human body
with an outer layer
98;
then let them apply this principle to the body of state and
see how advantageous it will be to the interior organs of this body, too, if they,
like the heart, kidneys, stomach, liver, and bowels, do not lie on the surface, ex-
posed to injury, and giving o evil smells, but are protected by an outer covering.
If Germans take note, moreover, that the enemy has tricked them on their upper
(i.e., outer) ank so as to injure their lower ank (i.e., their innards), then they
will have yet one more reason to turn away from the sole redeeming dividend
covering [Dividenden-Oben] of the middle class, and from the leader covering
[Fhrer-Oben] of the working class, which promises a higher wage, {20} toward
the higher covering of an aristocratic form of state in which a Goethe, a Kant, a
Bismarck believed, and that can, at the same time, serve them as a talisman against
the stench of the West.
Knowing all of this, however, Germans ought emphatically not to greet these
still lost nations with hatred or contempt. Much rather, for the sake of culture, re-
ligion, and truth, they should feel sympathy toward them, and at any price seek
to educate them toward humane and aristocratic ways. It is crucial as part of that,
however, that they not just overlook their lies and slander, products of their infe-
rior nature and lack of cultivation, but that they once and for all state the truth,
calmly, looking them straight in the eye, holding a mirror up to them so that they
can see themselves as they really are, not as they would prefer to see themselves.
If necessary, the German might even feel entitled to show arrogance himself
wherever any Briton, Frenchman, Italian, or Slav displayed his arrogance, so as to
repudiate the [unwarranted] superiority of him who is still in need of education,
and who wants to lecture him, the [truly] superior one.
And so let us advance by way of the truth to victory over the barbarism and
lying of democracy and Marxism, leaving behind all the lecherous lusting, and
moving on to the division of the work at hand, to voluntary submission to au-
thority and principle, on to nobility of spirit as the nobility of mankind, and
nally on to genius! If in the last analysis genius is total self-abnegation and
ceaseless self-sacrice to something, then it demands relentlessly from the non-
genius this same virtue in search of its own salvation!

It is however, I fear, impossible for the generation now living to bestir itself and
reclaim the capacity for genius that is unquestionably its birthright, in order
semper idem, sed non eodem modo
99
to seek and nd in the eternal-same the
grace of the ever-new, just as one is so thankfully revitalized by the sun as it rises
anew everyday and yet remains the same. The present generation is destined to
be a tragic clown among generations, and to perish in the disgrace and shame of
insucient cultivation. Obsessed with at all costs keeping up with the very latest
thing, and totally concerned that posterity should rate it higher than all preced-
ing generations, it nishes up by utterly failing to recognize, and so subverting,
all that is really best and most valuable of achievements up to today.
The task of deliverance must await a new generation. Then again, a pillar of
re will appear ahead of the people,
100
again a Prometheus must appear,
101
a ge-
nius, who will proclaim anew and substantiate the eternal-same. This new gener-
ation can only be German, since of all the nations living on the earth today the
German nation alone possesses true genius, provided only that her national char-
acter has been delivered from all the disgrace and humiliation that todays servile
generation, forgetful of its genius, has bequeathed to it.
It will be incumbent upon that new generation to establish once more the
sum total of world consciousness, which has today come to nought, and to gather
together the immortal past with the immortal present in the manner of our Less-
ing or Herder, Goethe or Schiller. It will have to manifest in the intellectual realm,
too, an absence of discontinuities and a constancy such as can be seen in the evo-
lution of species among animals,
102
and the innitude of the intellect will mirror
the innitude of the generations. The past in its entirety will live anew as the
present, What has passed away in the course of millions of years will {21} never-
theless not have perished. The geniuses of all ages will become contemporaries of
The Mission of German Genius
19
98
Oberschicht: lit. upper layer. Schenker forges an analogy between the upper layer (royalty, aris-
tocracy) of a monarchic state and the outer layer of the human body. He perhaps uses Schicht, layer,
rather than Klasse, class, not only because of his avowed disbelief in social class but also to draw an
analogy with his emerging theory of voice-leading layers inherent in musical works.
99
See note 5. Cf Kontrapunkt ii (1922), p. viii/p. xii: Today the task before us is more to transmit
the essence of music to more distant eras, since we cannot expect it to be restored in the near future.
100
Exodus 13.2122 (By day the Lord went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud . . . and by night in
a pillar of re to give them light, so that they could travel by day or night), 14.24; Numbers 14.14; Ne-
hemiah 9. 12; 9.19.
101
Prometheus: Greek God of Fire, who stole re and returned it to earth; in Aeschylus
Prometheus Unbound he is the bringer of re and civilization to men.
102
See note 69.
all generations, will become eternal contemporaries, and an eternal life for man-
kind will emerge, built at long last, as the true temple of the eternal one!
It is with such future aims as these that I here place at the disposal of a new
generation of youth my contributions to the advancement of genius and the nur-
turing of an elite.
The task of these pamphlets will thus be to show what constitutes German
genius in music. With this in mind, the author proposes to present, in no par-
ticular order, our great symphonies, sonatas, chamber works, and vocal music
including, at some point, the collected piano sonatas of Beethoven, of which he
is at present engaged as editor
103
explicating them and also interspersing be-
tween them a variety of essays concerning the theory or history of music, and -
nally to bring together under a special heading some miscellanea, which will re-
inforce the principal train of thought. If the author now admits Chopin to the
Pantheon of German composers,
104
he means to make that composers master-
works accessible as a source of the highest genius (for even though they have not
arisen directly from Germanity they are certainly directly indebted to it), and in
this most lofty sense to oer them anew for use also by a generation of German
youth.
tonwi lle 1
20
103
Around this time, Schenker was discussing with Universal Edition the possibility of an Urlinie-
Ausgabe of the Beethoven sonatas, somewhat along the lines of the Erluterungsausgaben of the late
sonatas. Very likely, the essay on Op. 2, No. 1 (published in Tonwille 2) is a vestige of this project.
104
See note 31.
In the forthcoming volume of my Kontrapunkt (Neue musikalische Theorien und
Phantasien, II
3
), in which I prove that free composition is essentially a continua-
tion of strict counterpoint, I touch upon a fundamental phenomenon of tonal
life in the section on elaboration [Auskomponierung], a phenomenon that I have
termed Urlinie.
1
As the term already indicates, the Urlinie is an archetypal situation, an arche-
typal succession of tones.
2
The Urlinie bears in itself the seeds of all the forces that shape tonal life. With
the cooperation of the harmonic degrees, the Urlinie indicates the paths to all
elaboration and so also to the composition of the outer voices, in whose intervals
the marriage of strict and free composition is so wonderfully and mysteriously
consummated. It is the Urlinie that also gives life to the motive and to melody;
only one who has grasped the essence of the Urlinie will nd the way to the de-
rivative nature of melody and comprehend that, owing to its origin in the Urlinie,
melody is more than what it is usually taken to be.
Even the Urlinie obeys the law of procreation, which is the law of repetition;
and because it has such a fundamental drive [Urtrieb], the Urlinie joins an ever
growing, ever increasing Nature as a living piece of that Nature. While motives
and melodies bustle about before our ears in repetitions that are easily percepti-
ble, the Urlinie begets repetitions of a concealed, most sublime sort in its primal
womb [Ur-Scho]. Those who speak of repetitions in music and laugh at their
procreative drive clearly betray that they hear only the repetitions in the fore-
ground but have perceived nothing at all of the most tremendous background
repetitions in Urlinien.
Instrumental music, therefore, does not stem from dance but rather from the
Urlinie, which strings the purely musical associations of the motive on its threads
and in so doing puts them on their ultimate ground. So long as music for the
dance lacked an Urlinie, dance was of course dance, but its music was not yet Art.
Only with the Urlinie did the process of music becoming Art really begin, and so
also with dance music;
3
and thus the theory that instrumental music had its ori-
gins in dance topples, together with all the conclusions that have been drawn
from it. Just as music began in the Urlinie, so it is only in the Urlinie that it will
be able to continue living.
The so-called poetic idea is also given the lie by the Urlinie. Although ever so
many analogies may be swept from human life into music (how should humanly
conceived art not embody the human?), the poetic idea may be relied upon all too
often by all those muscle-men of expression who do not grasp that it is only
possible for them to dissolve themselves in art and not art in themselves; or by
certain hermeneutic babblers of aect whose inability compels them to see
rather than hear their way about in music, as in the rest of the objective world,
and thereby compels them to debase music {23} to a cinema for the ears. Above
and beyond all that, music with the Urlinie remains a world of its own, unto it-
self, comparable to the Creation in the sense that it rests only in itself, operating
with no end in sight.
With everything that belongs to it, that accompanies it, the Urlinie provides
truth in the realm of tones, its very own musical truth. Accordingly, all diminu-
tions, all coloraturas remain equally true (musically speaking) in the presence of
that line; so does all music certied by verbal truth, such as the lied, the music
drama, and so forth. For this reason, all the various divisions and classications
21
The Urlinie: A Preliminary Remark
Die Urlinie: Eine Vorbemerkung {Tonwille 1, pp. 2226}
t r a ns l at e d b y r ob e rt s na r re nb e r g
1
Schenkers plans for the third volume of Kontrapunkt were not to materialize as quickly as this
announcement suggests. Although a form of Freier Satz, as he provisionally entitled it, was drafted
prior to the Tonwille series, the promised volume did not appear until the year of Schenkers death.
By 1925 it was no longer billed as II
3
but as III, that is, a separate volume of Neue musikalische The-
orien und Phantasien; a year later, it bore the revised title, Der freie Satz.
2
Ein Urzustand, eine Urfolge von Tnen: in this and other essays, Schenker uses or creates words
bearing the prex Ur- to name and underscore the fundamental concepts of his theory.
3
See Harmonielehre, p. 4/p. 4.
such as Classical, Romantic, programmatic, absolute, and the like, disappear from
view in face of the Urlinie, since these are biased by personal feeling or historical
understanding. Wherever music bears in itself the truth of an Urlinie, it also
bears the Urlinies blessing and is good.
In view of these last revelations about the Urlinie, an extremely dedicated and
indulgent search for similarities and points of contact proves to be childish,
naive, ludicrous, ignorant, for just as melodies and motives that sound identical
in all other respects can dier completely in the way they relate to the Urlinie, so,
too, can dierent melodies (as is nearly always the case) encounter one another
in identical Urlinien.
4
In the Urlinie, the large-scale miracle of creation is consummated; the Urlinie
alone is the muse of all extemporaneous creation, all synthesis; it is the beginning
and end of the piece, its very fantasy. In the Urlinie, the composer becomes a seer,
drawn to it as to the ancestral mothers [Urmttern]; and, as if intoxicated with its
resources and directions, he assigns his tones a merciful fate full of agreement be-
tween the life of each individual tone and a life that exists above and beyond their
being (like a Platonic idea in music), a fate full of breeding and propriety and
order, even in places where uproar, chaos, or dissolution seem to emerge in the
foreground.
Anyone who has made the Urlinie his own also has a presence of mind and
perception of the future [Geistesgegenwart und -zukunft] and, endowed with
these, feels exempted from all the rules learned in school and in books that sim-
ply never make it possible to generate a presentiment of things to come.
If this sort of Urlinie is the long-distance hearing [Fernhren] of the com-
poser, then it may be of use to the reader, the performer, or the listener whose
hearing is only near-at-hand, like a pair of mental spectacles that bring distant
things closer to him.
Permit me to repeat a few things that I explained in my Erluterungsausgabe
of Beethovens Sonata Op. 101 (see the Preliminary Remark in the Introduction)
concerning this same concept:
5
The Urlinie is the possession of genius alone, and this explains why
knowledge of it was not brought down from those heights long, long
ago.
6
(As it now turns out, man will learn to y in the sky before he learns
to raise himself up to the genius.)
A piece of music comes into the world alive, woven out of Urlinie, de-
gree [Stufe], and voice-leading. The method of observation in which one
must initially become aware of each factor in isolation should not obscure
the fact that all these sources and forces of energy (from the Urlinie there
issues motive and melody) constantly weave together and work on one
another. Why, even the essence of man, for example, a complete whole
mysteriously woven out of a thousandfold forces, is by no means nullied
because an understanding of this essence can be furnished only by theo-
ries that go into particulars (anatomy and physiology, for example).
Hence it should be declared that we ought to, indeed we must speak of the
Urlinie in isolation, however inseparably it cooperates with other forces
in the artworks play of forces.
{24} In a certain sense the Urlinie is like the core of the human soul.
7
As this core goes along with man from cradle to grave, so also does the
Urlinie accompany [the artwork] from the rst tone to the last. Hence, to
continue the analogy, the Urlinie may be compared to the span of human
life, the seventy years of the Psalmist, because everything that is merely
supercial disappears from view when set against it, as so many hours dis-
appear when we contemplate the year and so many years when we con-
template lifes Urlinie. Accordingly, there are diculties in store when it
comes to recognizing the Urlinie of a piece of music, precisely this: one is
often inclined to overestimate and misconstrue a voice-leading situation
in the present merely because it is present, just as in human life the pres-
ent hour is often overestimated and misconstrued.
When looking at Urlinien, however, do not be disenchanted by the
fact that they all resemble one another in their constant stepwise progres-
sions [Zgen von Sekunden], in their repetitions, or even in an up and
tonwi lle 1
22
4
Schenker here proposes an answer to the question of how dierent melodies could be present
in an organically conceived work, a question that he had rst raised in 1895 in the essay Der Geist der
musikalischen Technik (reprinted in Heinrich Schenker als Essayist und Kritiker, ed. Hellmut Feder-
hofer [Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1990]), pp. 13554.
5
Erluterungsausgabe of Op. 101, pp. 2223/pp. 810. The ellipsis (. . .) denotes omissions from
the original text, including quotations from Goethe, Kant, and Lessing.
6
The image of truth being brought down from on high resonates with Schenkers depiction of
himself in other writings as a Moses going up to Mount Sinai to receive the commandments that will
bring life to his people.
7
Wie des Menschen Seelenkern. The original text, in the Erluterungsausgabe of Op. 101, reads:
Lichtbild des Seelenkernes (photograph of the core of the soul).
down movement as regular as inhaling and exhaling. The artists concern
is precisely to call forth his own peculiar tensions through a specic num-
ber of steps of a second, a particular type of repetition, or a particular up
and down, to elicit ever new varieties of his own peculiar motives and
melodies from the up and down movement as well as from the elemental
laws of voice-leading and the harmonic degree, and thus in every case to
progress into what is individual: semper idem, sed non eodem modo
more is not given to the artist . . .
. . . But does even the genius himself know anything of the Urlinie?
Now it is clear that the genius need not know or express his knowledge of
the Urlinie with my words or even in line with my awareness. However, if
we see the genius proceeding clearly along the path of the Urlinie, intent
on cultivating it marvelously, intent on order even in the midst of change,
if we see the genius polishing, and if we must also gather from this that
the genius wishes to take only this path and no other, well, then how
should we refer to that which impels the genius to do all these things?
A piece of Urlinie is certainly contained here and there in not-so-
ingenious pieces of music, but you need only glance at the surroundings
of the passage in question and you will immediately gather from the vac-
illation, the muddling of ends and means, the meandering from one path
to another, that obviously this was only a result of good fortune playing
its hand once in a while. Such composers simply lack the wonderful nat-
ural gift and sacred strength of nerves needed to withstand the over-
whelming exigencies, as a secure laying of paths in tonal life presupposes
that gift and strength.
8
. . .
. . . Knowledge of the Urlinie, therefore, is also the surest way to ad-
vance our knowledge of genius. But the study of genius is like astronomy.
Stars stood in the heavens long before men ever began to concern them-
selves about them: they gazed up at them, either in fear or rejoicing. Later,
however, they learned to get their bearings from the stars, to turn them to
their prot, and ever since the blessing of this knowledge has owed forth.
Above {25} us the starry heaven of genius sparkles, yet mankind has still
not succeeded in getting a proper bearing on them. For what is the triing
world of ideas that the average person borrows from genius compared to
the abundant blessing that he could and should obtain? And yet to do so
requires modesty and respect above all, in the same measure in which
these virtues also adorn the true genius. But who does not see that these
virtues are completely lacking among todays generation, which clearly
betrays how much it is wanting in geniuses, indeed, even in talents? . . .

If it is actually conceivable that the creative mien of our greatest composers

could somehow have also been imparted to the non-genius over the course of the
generations, then Richard Wagner is probably the one to blame for having hin-
dered this advance, conceivable as it was in the abstract. Since he could not nd
the way to the ancestral mothers, he had to take refuge in so-called music drama
(if only out of a drive for self-preservation) if he were to oer at least extramusi-
cal justication for his undisputedly, if idiosyncratically, musical way of thinking.
Although he himself absorbed and performed the works of our greatest com-
posers, he failed before the Urlinie and even explicitly impugned the organic ne-
cessity in these works, merely because he did not sense what power made the
composers of these works into a veritably passive tool of Urlinien, which bear
artistic truth and necessity.
How easy it is now to comprehend that it was not so much the ostensibly ir-
resistible power of Wagners works, which so carried away his contemporaries
and later generations (only a few of the best excepted), than the disintegration
by the killing of the Urliniewhich the less capable composers endorsed all the
more willingly the more easily they could call attention to themselves by so
doing. And if a talent like Wagners could no longer suce for the endishly di-
cult demands of the Urlinie, wherefore out of necessity he made a virtue of the
total artwork, then his followers and imitators subsequently made a virtue of it
even more easily, far more easily, to the same degree that their talent was so very
The Urlinie: A Preliminary Remark
23
8
[S]The manufacturers of so-called impressionistic pieces like to speak today of a certain line.
But where, as in these pieces, the eect amounts only to a tonal noise (which, like every noise only
counts as an acoustic phenomenon but not yet as Art), the line of the tonal noise certainly says no
more than the lines that can also make themselves felt, rising and falling, in other noises (for example,
in thunder, the rocking of a table, the rolling of a carriage, and so forth). The vogue for such tonal
noises and lines comes from Francethat alone says it all. The French nationality, which never had
much to oer in music (as of course in other areas, too, except perhaps the so-called exact sciences),
no Bach or Handel, no Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Mendelssohn, Schumann, or Brahms,
not even a Wagner or Brucknerthis French nationality allows itself to make such nonsense the fash-
ion and even to declare it a national art (which would only be consistent), but what does Germany
have to do with this noise, this caricature of line, when it possesses such potent Urlinie-runes?
much smaller than his. And if todays musicians easily make it to the point of roil-
ing about in something that can no longer be called the basic material of the mu-
sical art, then, as I said, Richard Wagner alone bears the blame for having demo-
bilized, as it were, their musical nerves.
In shattering the Urlinie and destroying musical truth, Wagner readied a fate
for music similar to that which Karl Marx readied for society by demolishing
every tradition and the truths that rested therein but were incomprehensible to
him. This comparison also accords with the fact that they both brought ruin
chiey upon German music and German society. And so, just as one could prob-
ably call Karl Marx, to put it rather crassly, the hangman of German humanity,
though by no means the executioner of capitalism in general, one can also say of
Wagner that he became the hangman of German music, though still by no means
the executioner of the music of other nations as well. However, music and soci-
ety overall are seriously damaged along with German music and German society,
for what nation has a greater musical art than the German nation or a more ideal
history than the German nation?
{26} Consequently the errors and oenses for which German mankind has
been blamed by Wagner and Marx alike are serious, extremely seriousand yet
they are also German errors, and even as errors they are still noble, German er-
rors, the likes of which no other nation can display. What artistic feeling Wagner
called into play, what deep humanity a man like Karl Marx could call uponbut
unfortunately both men had limited vision, hearing or observing only what lay
near at hand, neither was a genius. And all their work, no matter how broadly and
prodigiously they extended it, melts away before an ever so small but far-seen cre-
ation of a genius. For German music there is but one way of salvation: a return
to pre-Wagnerian musical truth. Wagnerand German music may well permit
this given its high positionmust be placed in the same niche as Christoph
Willibald Ritter von Gluck, who, in spite of his virtues and excellent qualities, was
outstripped in a trice by a Mozart, merely because Mozart could write bass parts
of which Gluck had no inkling. It has turned out to be the fate of German music
that Wagner, too, was not similarly surpassed by another Mozart.

The Urlinie is the composers visionary gift.

A visionary gift is a dicult burden. The seer bears it without a word when a
god wants to communicate through him, keeping silent about the torments that
he suers at the sight of a humanity that cannot participate in the revelation and,
because it cannot, also wants not to participate. The nadir of musical art was al-
ready reached long ago, and it is now a question of fortifying nerves that were
rendered completely hysterical by artistic idleness, so that in the foreseeable fu-
ture they can again perform such a great service to the art. The hour of turning
back has tolled.
tonwi lle 1
24
Composed 18058, rst performed on December 22, 1808. The orchestral parts
were published in 1809, the score in 1826. The symphony was dedicated to Prince
Lobkowitz and Count Razumovsky.
1
First Movement
Bars 1. The sonata form of the rst movement may be represented as follows
First Subject
antecedent bars 121
consequent and modulation bars 2259
Second Subject bars 60125
Development bars 126248
Recapitulation bars 249373
Coda bars 374 502
The principal motive of the rst movement does not comprise merely the
two tones of bars 12, as has erroneously been assumed until now:
but rather the community of the four tones in bars 15:
Since bar 1 must be understood as a metrically weak barthe repeat of the ex-
position (see Fig. 6, the graph of the Urlinie) shows it to be the eighth bar (thus
a weak bar) of the group beginning in bar 118the principal motive is four bars
long (bars 25), with bar 1 as upbeat. Fig. 3 gives a conspectus of the motive in its
primary transformations:
25
Beethovens Fifth Symphony
Beethoven: V. Sinfonie {Tonwille 1, pp. 2737}
t r a ns l at e d b y wi l l i a m dr a b k i n
1
Isolated jottings for a C minor symphony appear soon after the completion of the Eroicathe
sketch quoted in g. 4 dates from 1804but Beethoven undertook the main work on the Fifth Sym-
phony in 1807 and early 1808. The work had been intended for Count Franz von Oppersdor (1778
1818), an aristocratic musical enthusiast who maintained an orchestra at his palace at Oberglogau in
Upper Silesia; in the end, Beethoven dedicated this symphonyand the Sixthjointly to two of his
closest patrons, Prince Franz Joseph von Lobkowitz and Count Andreas Razumovsky. Oppersdor in-
stead received the dedication of the Fourth Symphony.
{28} The rst form, Ia, with tone repetitions in the upbeat and second bar and
fermatas in the rst and fourth, is the strongest version and serves as motto for the
rst group. It thus returns at the start of the recapitulation and toward the end of
the coda, almost as if to provide a rhyme for the beginning of the movement.
The second version of this form, Ib, retains the denitive leaps of a third; the
fermatas are omitted, and the tone repetitions in the second bar are replaced by
a half note. Because of its similarity with Ia, it is called upon to announce the
latters return, not only towards the end of the development (i.e., before the start
of the recapitulation) but also before its nal appearance in the coda, namely in
bars 399 with the original half notes, and immediately thereafter (bars 407) in
rhythmic diminution.
IIa gives us the second principal form. It diers from Ia by the replacement of
leaps of a third with fths, but is similar to Ib in dispensing with the fermatas and
tone repetitions in the second bar. It is the motto of the second subject group: thus
it initiates the second part of the development section, bars 180, and is given op-
portunity for thematic development soon afterward, in bars 196 (shown as IIb).
The form given in Ic is clearly related to Ia, on account of the initial leap of a
third; but now the rst fermata is unnecessary for the simple reason that the sec-
ond set of tone repetitions appears in the rst bar of the motive. And again, on
account of the initial leap of a third, the small oshoot in bars 2324 [shown in
Fig. 3 as Id], which initiate the consequent phrase of the rst group, is closely re-
lated to the principal form of the motive.
An association of the four distinct pitches is evident in Beethovens earliest
sketches for the Fifth Symphony, transcribed by Gustav Nottebohm:
2
But his commentary is incorrect:
Viewed in terms of its rhythmic shape, the principal motive of the rst
movement of the C minor symphony, which comprises four notes, {29} is
also contained in the principal theme of the G major piano concerto. In
the former it appears as a self-contained motive, in a primitive version; in
the latter it is an element of a larger melodic whole. That the primitive
version came rst and preceded the other, more unied one, is shown by
the sketches.
In both cases, i.e. in the symphony and the piano concerto, whose theme
Nottebohm also quotes as it appears in the sketches,
we must distinguish between note repetition in the service merely of a single
tone, and the principal motive considered as a whole, comprising several pitches.
This is well illustrated by the succession of harmonic degrees in Fig. 4; here the
former procedure never enters the picture: the larger melodic whole, to use
Nottebohms phrase, is precisely a four-tone and four-bar whole.
The same harmonic reason applies also to the nal version. For if we were to
hear the motive as complete as early as at the rst fermata, the consequence
would be that the third ge
,
would have to be understood in the rst place as the
tonic of E
,
major, which would surely occur to no one.
3
That the master understood the principal motive as a four-bar construction
can be seen from the correction he subsequently made to the rst edition. He
wrote as follows in the autograph score:
4
tonwi lle 1
26
2
Beethoveniana: Aufsatze und Mittheilungen (Leipzig and Wintertur: Rieter-Biedermann, 1872),
p. 12. Nottebohm transcribed Figs. 4 and 5 from a privately owned collection of miscellaneous sketch-
leaves, which entered the collection of the Prussian Royal Library (now the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin)
in 1874 under the signature Mus. ms. autogr. Beethoven 19e.
3
Schenker doesnt explain why the succession GE
,
FD could not also be heard as E
,
major,
rather than C minor. The point about tonal ambiguity in the rst two barsextendable to the rst
ve barswas rst made by E. T. A. Homann in his review of the symphony for the 1810 Allgemeine
musikalische Zeitung. In the continuation of this essay (in Tonwille 5), Schenker quotes substantial ex-
tracts of Homanns review in his discussion of the literature on the symphony, but omits his obser-
vations on this ambiguity.
4
[S]I wish to express my heartfelt gratitude to the ever helpful, tirelessly accommodating Direc-
tor of the [Music Division of the] Prussian State Library in Berlin, Prof. Dr. Wilhelm Altmann, for
granting me access to a photographic reproduction of the autograph. [A facsimile edition of this
manuscript was published by the Maximilian-Verlag in Berlin in 1942, with commentary by Georg
Schnemann.]
To be sure, this notation preserves the basic metrical scheme of four- and two-
bar constructions, as in Ia and Id, so that in the fourth or second bar the next
motive is connected (as if with an upbeat); and it also conrms at the outset the
two-bar construction of Ic. He subsequently added a bar in each of these places,
to secure for the motive its own four- or two-bar construction, regardless of
whether the following bar is an upbeat (as in Ia and Id) or it ts into the scheme
in a metrically regular manner (as in Ic). The upbeat character of the rst three
eighth notes in bar 1 of the score applies not only to the regular constructions, as
for example in bars 14, 22, 29, 101, and so on, but even those that appear to be, so
to speak, metrically superuous, as at bars 6, 25, and 390.
The most convincing evidence for the integral motivic coherence of bars 15
is, of course, provided by the Urlinie (see the graph, Fig. 6, p. 28).
The Urlinie shows us that it is not actually all four tones making up the prin-
cipal motive (see Fig. 3) that are of the essence, but merely the two half-notes sep-
arated by a step. {30} Grouping in twos at the interval of the second remains the
dening characteristic of the motive, even in places, such as in IIa, where a sub-
stitution (b
,
for d) increases the size of the interval. Bars 2629 and subsequently
bars 4548, 4951, 60, etc. (leaving the suspensions in bars 34 35 out of con-
sideration) each reply with a pair of tones a second apart.
This evidence is conrmed and strengthened still further by the following il-
lustration:
This graph, probably the most basic formulation of the creative fantasy, which in
contrast to the Urlinie represents a sort of rst elaboration, shows clearly how the
two primary tones of the motive strive towards the nodal points of the fourth or
fth by the annexation of further tones (on nodal points at the fourth and fth,
see Freier Satz).
5
If the principal motive was really that which it has hitherto
been taken to be, then the Urlinie and its simplest preliminary formulation would
lead us to the most extraordinary conclusion, namely, that even a single tone can
be a motive. But doesnt a motive, considered as a melodic concept, have to con-
sist of at least two tones? (A rhythmic motive is an altogether dierent matter: va-
riety of pitch does not come into play.) Yet it must be remembered that, even in
the case of Id (Fig. 3), Beethoven at least accords the tone f a two-bar rhythmic
unit and, moreover, places this tone at the head of the two-note principal motive.
6
That it was hitherto possible to misinterpret the principal motive, the correct
understanding of which is crucial to performance and musical enjoyment, results
from the note repetitions. (It is strange that even those musicians who turn up
their noses at a four-bar construction in music cannot even recognize one of the
Beethovenian variety.) Even in themselves, repeated notes convey the eect of
one or more spoken words (as I have shown in Kontrapunkt i, pp. 63/pp. 4244).
If one adds to this, as is precisely the case in our symphony, the fermatas and the
sequential formation in the adjoining bars, then the untrained ear would have
had the impression of a motive as early as the rst fermata. It was also the repe-
tition of notes that was responsible for the dissemination of legends. One need
only recall how for example Czerny, apparently following up a remark by Bee-
thoven, found that the rhythmic motive reproduced the cry of the yellowham-
mer, whereas Schindleragain based on a remark Beethoven is alleged to have
maderelated it to the power that destiny wields over humanity (Thus Fate
knocks at the door!), to judge how utterly worthless these interpretations are.
Even the seductive {31} intervention of a Richard Wagner in favour of an inter-
pretation of bars 12 as a motive proves only that even he, a total stranger to ab-
Beethovens Fifth Symphony
27
5
The concept of nodal point (Knotenpunkt) does not gure in the nal version of Der freie Satz.
When Freier Satz was part of the Kontrapunkt project, Schenker planned a section entitled Von
Knotenpunkten bei der Horizontaliserung (on the use of nodal points in linear elaborations) under
the general discussion of Stufe. See Robert Kosovsky, The Oster Collection: Papers of Heinrich Schenker,
A Finding List (New York: New York Public Library, 1990), p. 380.
6
After the statement of Id, which leaves f
1
in bars 2324 unresolved, Beethoven develops the prin-
cipal motive in such away that f
1
in bar 26 leads to e
,1
in bar 29. The connection is shown in the graph
of the Urlinie by a square bracket drawn between these bars.
28
solute music, succumbed to the mysterious eloquence of note repetition in same
way as the Czernys and the Schindlers of the world. In his treatise On Conduct-
ing, he wrote:
Suppose that the voice of Beethoven cried out from the grave to a con-
ductor: Make my fermatas long and frightening! I did not write fermatas
as a joke, or in a moment of diculty over what to do next; but the same
full tone I intended in my adagios, for the expression of swelling feeling,
I include in my violent, quick-paced allegros, if need be, as a convulsion
of joy or fear. Then shall its life be drained to the last drop of blood; then
do I part the waters of my sea and expose the depths of its abyss; or re-
strain the movement of clouds, dispel the whirling streaks of mist and
open up a glimpse of pure blue ether, the suns radiant eye. For these rea-
sons do I put fermatasnotes entering suddenly, and held at length
into my allegros. And note my perfectly clear thematic intentions with
this sustained E
,
, after three stormily short notes, and what I meant to say
with all the remaining notes that are likewise to be held.
7
Even if we accept that there was a connection between the rhythm of this mo-
tive and the idea of a Fate knocking at the door, it is nevertheless only the oce
of art, not of Fate, which has responsibility for this knocking. And if one wished
to oer a hermeneutic interpretation, that Beethoven was wrestling with Fate
throughout the movement, then it would not be Fate alone that participated in
this struggle but also Beethoven himself: but not merely Beethoven the man, but
even more so Beethoven the musician. If Beethoven wrestled in tones, then no
legend, no hermeneutic interpretation can oer a satisfactory explanation of the
tonal world, unless one thinks and feels with these tones exactly as they them-
selves think, so to speak. Anyone who, in spite of everything, still nds it dicult
to rid himself of the musical and metrical nonsense on account of the legends,
merely has to consider that Beethoven developed a similar note repetition in the
contemporaneous piano concerto; was it perhaps another door at which Fate
knocked, or was Fate knocking at the same door, only in a dierent way? What is
not in dispute, at any rate, is the ease with which the motive of our symphony
(Grove calls it an agreeable motive; and how often do motive statisticians enjoy
counting up its occurrences) is grasped, gaining the audiences aection at its
very rst appearance. The exceedingly numerous repetitions have undoubtedly
been the primary source of enjoyment: merely by taking pleasure in recognizing
the motive as it recurs so many times, one imagines that one is actually hearing
and feeling. If what is, after all, such a paltry accomplishment can create such great
pleasure, then it would logically have to follow that a greater intellectual accom-
plishment would lead to still greater pleasure. How blissful would the listener cer-
tainly feel if he could share the masters long-range hearing, traversing and soar-
ing over the broadly planned paths! If only he could! Then his fear, that a better
sense of hearing might impinge on his pleasure, would turn to joy. And so it
merely remains to be said, with respect to the closed four-bar construction of the
principal motive, that the fermatas are merely an inner concern and that, strictly
speaking, they could be dispensed with both at the beginning and elsewhere, as
is the case for example at bars 228, where they are missing. They do give added
emphasis, and increase the eect of the note repetitions, raising them to the sta-
tus of a challenge; far beyond these eects, however, soars {32} the power of syn-
thesis, which is attentive to fouressentially, to just twoprincipal tones and
thereby gains connections at a higher level.
The motivic construction that makes its rst appearance in the rst violin in
bar 14 represents a passing note in the same space of a third originally spanned
by the principal motive (in bars 12), although it forms a thematic component in
its own right, as is specially conrmed by the development section. It is the
downward thrust of this very passing note that pushes the tones still further in
the same direction, up to the nodal point of the fourth (see Fig. 7, above)
Note the changes in the rhythmic situation of the second half note. At rst (as
at bars 4 and 11) it falls on the third and fth bar, i.e. on relatively strong bars, of
a four- or eight-bar group. This natural order is, however, breached in the eight-
bar group comprising bars 2633, so that the second half note falls on the fourth
and eighth bars, i.e. on weak bars. If, in addition, the order of the basic metrical
scheme is relaxed by the ten-bar group that immediately follows (bars 34 43), a
group that merely mediates between the chords shown in Fig. 8, then the two half
notes of the motive only fall still further out of rhythmic equilibrium.
From their position in bars 2 and 5, 6 and 8 in the group of bars 44 51, and bars
2 and 7 in the group of bars 5259, one gets the impression throughout this pas-
Beethovens Fifth Symphony
29
7
Schenker, characteristically, fails to let the reader in on the full story. Wagner used this imagi-
nary speech by Beethoven to poke fun at conductors who ask for fermatas to be held for so long that
the players run out of bow, or breath, with the result that the tone produced at the end of the fermata
is very feeble.
sage that the tones of the motive are responding to the changes in the bass. Al-
though hardly noticeable at rst, all these disruptions of metric equilibrium sound
increasingly precipitous in the swing of the modulation before they nally return
to a state of order and compliance, in accordance with a general rule of nature.
Even in this respect a diversity is evident, in that ascending arpeggiations are
used to serve the elaboration [Auskomponierung] in the antecent phrase (from bar
7 onward), and conversely descending arpeggiations are used in the consequent.
Bars 60. In contrast with the rst subject, the second proceeds undivided from
the point of view of form. As shown in Fig. 7, it traverses the octave from e
,
2
to e
,
1
,
marked only by its natural division into fourth-progression and fth-progression.
The former is modeled after the fourth-progression in bars 1721, the fth-
progression is the required complement. In the realization of this plan, however,
the nodal point b
,
1
is set an octave higher (bar 94), so that the fth-progression
is dispatched in the two-line octave. The fourth-progression remains from start
to nish (bars 6366) under the sign of the tonic; by contrast, after the arrival of
the high b
,
2
in bar 94, the dominant controls the harmony of the two eight-bar
groups (as can be seen from their beginnings and ends, bars 94 and 101, bars 102
and 109). If, however, the g
2
in these spaces (bars 96 and 104) falls in the third bar,
i.e. on a weak metrical position in the group, the tonic is too weak here to encroach
upon the authority of the dominant. For this reason, the same g
2
is brought back
in bar 110, at the head of the next two eight-bar groups, which elaborate the re-
maining part of the fth-progression in broader measure, so to speak. Now, for
the sake of the nal, decisive emphasis, the tonic takes over as the leading har-
mony. What ingenious foresight even in the basic plan of the second subject!
It has already been explained that, in the motto of the second subject, the
note b
,
in bar 62 actually stands for d
1
. Two things are achieved by this substitu-
tion: the hidden step progression e
,
1
d
1
pushes toward the nodal point of the
fourth, as in bars 15, while the substituting b
,
proclaims and establishes this very
point. Only such an interpretation {33} prevents us from hearing the rst-violin
motive in bars 6366 as an exact variation of the motto; a supercial considera-
tion might have led us in this direction, on account of the upward push to f
2
(bar
65) and the fall to b
,
1
(bar 66). We see rather that it is a variation of the fourth-
progression, as the Urlinie makes clear. In what follows, too, this same fourth-
progression is repeated a number of times; and the variation, seen in this way, be-
comes entirely clear. Likewise, we can see from the graph of the Urlinie how, as
the harmony moves from I to IV in bars 74 82, the space of a fourth e
,
a
,
in the
bass is at the same time lled by passing tones, and how subsequently, within the

IV (bars 84 93), a passing tone in the bass pushes up to the third of the chord
(bar 90). Finally we see how, by voice exchange, the a in the bass (bar 84) climbs
to b
,
[2]
in the soprano (bar 94) while, conversely, the diminished fth of the
chord, e
,
2
(bar 85) falls to d in the bass.
The motto of the second subject proclaims the restoration of congruence be-
tween pitch and metrical order, which had been breached in the modulation: the
half notes e
,
and b
,
appear again on the rst and third bars of the group. But the
starting note of the motive of the fourth, e
,
2
, as early as the fourth bar initiates a
new tension with the meter, which must again be overcome. All this is mirrored
in the Beethovens slurring, whichwhat genius in the creation of such connec-
tions!strengthens and underscores both the tension and its resolution.
For if the variation of the motive of the fourth, in contrast to the horn call,
should be performed legato, then it is obvious that the upbeat in bar 63 should be
included under the slur, just as there should be a break between bars 65 and 66 to
avoid a collision of the repeated c
2
s. The change in the variation in bar 75, result-
ing from a new set of harmonic relationships starting at bar 72, removes the
threat of a collision between two identical notes, but necessitates a new legato ar-
ticulation: it is the joining of a weak bar to a strong one (see the small slurs in the
graph of the Urlinie, bars 7582), which Beethoven makes use of so frequently
in the service of musical expression: see Beethovens Neunte Sinfonie, pp. 4042/
pp. 6163; Erluterungsausgabe of Op. 110, p. 37/p. 32.
8
With the expansion of

IV in bars 84 93, the postponement of the last tone
of the fourth-progression, d,and this is indeed the purpose of the expansion
requires again a new and special arrangement of the slurs:
To be sure, at the start of the expansion bars 8385 are slurred together in the ear-
lier manner, like bars 6365; but since the expansion can in no way be mistaken
for anything else, so long as the nal note d is missing, it is also possiblein
tonwi lle 1
30
8
Schenker is probably referring to the rst movement of the sonata, bars 3537, a passage in
which the articulation is of the utmost importance. Beethoven slurs the last beat of bar 35 to the end
of bar 37; Schenker is critical of the numerous editions that draw a slur over the whole of bar 35 and
use a new slur for bars 3637.
order to prepare the restoration of metrical balance, i.e. the fth-progression that
begins in the correct register with b
,
2
in bar 94to risk not only placing the head
of the motive, g
,
2
, on relatively strong bars in the group (i.e., bars 86, 88, 90, 92)
but also starting the slur from this g
,
2
, thus making the slurring agree with the
shape of the motive. One can understand from this that, in order to achieve this
very slurring, it was actually necessary to group the rst three bars (8385) to-
gether, their purpose being to act as a transition from the previous manner of slur-
ring (bars 7582). But to do this sort of thing as many as four times in succession,
in bars 86, 88, 90, and 92, was something the master obviously found disagreeable,
and thus he found himself compelled {34} rst to stretch a slur across two bars
(8687) and thenby beginning right in the middle of the group and thereby
preserving its equilibrium, as it wereto place the remaining six bars (8893)
under a single slur. On the other hand, to avoid endangering the eect of a cres-
cendo by using too long a slur, he divided the slur in the cello (which plays the
same line) into two slurs, two bars plus four bars, and moreover introduced
the ute in bar 91, which thus joins in for the last three bars under a single slur. The
irregular ten-bar construction of the extension, together with the unusual play
among the legato slurs, imparts to this passage an indescribable, irresistible magic.
The reasons why the Urlinie shows the organization of the second subject in
groups of bars in this way, and not otherwise, may be summed up as follows: it is
clear that the horn call is dierent from the material that follows it, in the way it
lls the space of a fourth and in its relation to the overall metric structure. Of the
ensuing threefold repetition of the motive of the fourth, by now easily recogniz-
able, the rst two repetitions could readily be separated o and understood as an
eight-bar group, almost as if they were of little signicance for what was to fol-
low. In this sense, only the third repetition, bars 7174, marks the actual starting
point of the movement upward. Were we to compare the twelve bars of 7283 (as
three times four bars) with the ten that follow, 8493, we would be misconstru-
ing the sense and eloquence of the extension; this can only make sense as a unit
of fourteen bars that outstrips the previous eight-bar group.
9
Bars 126. Fig. 7 shows the deepest background of the development section, the
sum of a diminished chord on II or [

]VII in C minor. Its course is expressed in

the Urlinie by a clear grouping of three distinct sections, beginning respectively
with the tones a
,
in bar 130, g in bar 180, and f in bar 196; these act as stopping
points within the space dened by the diminished fth.
Before the start of the rst section, a chromatic modulation from E
,
major to
F minor:
is articulated by the motto of the rst subject; this determines the thematic con-
tents of the rst section. In fact, the two-note principal motive is used here as it
was used in the rst subject (bars 13738 bars 14 15). In bars 14245, the de-
scending quarter notes
10
exceed the original space of a fourth (cf. bars 1721). Yet
these seem, in this lengthened form, to be derived rather from the descending oc-
tave of bars 94 101, just as the ascending counterpoint in the voice below it may
similarly be traced back to the ascending bass line in those same bars. The har-
mony modulates from F minor to C minor. In C minor the two voices are in-
verted; the harmony modulates further, to G minor. A return to the original po-
sition of the voices in G minor is then completed in the next group of bars (154)
and, by means of an expansion, leads to a half cadence in G minor. The ascend-
ing soprano line, beginning in bar 158, is to be understood as a rhythmic aug-
mentation of the line in bars 15053; as can be seen from the graph of the Urlinie,
it is also furnished with anticipations. In bar 167, an acceleration takes place in the
descending lines (cello and viola), in consequence of which bar 168, instead of
{35} providing the expected anticipation, has a dierent content and, as a result
of this very change, itself becomes transformed into a metrically strong bar of a
new group. Now there is a change of harmony, to IV, traversing a series of pass-
ing harmonies.
11
IV in bars 17275 proceeds to V in bar 176.
First of all, the ascending soprano line beginning in bar 158 can basically be
derived from the succession of merely three tones:
bar 158 162 166
b
,
c d
I V
Beethovens Fifth Symphony
31
9
That is, the longer, expanded phrase must come second; the initial eight-bar group (7279) sets
the norm, which is then exceeded by the fourteen bars of 8093.
10
Schenker is referring to the quarter notes extracted in the graph of the Urlinie, Fig. 6, not to the
actual score of the symphony.
11
Hier auch Stufenwechsel: es ist die IV. mit einverleibten Durchgngen. The graph of the Urlinie
shows passing notes in the bass (marked Durchgnge) between I in bar 158 and IV in bar 168, not a
IV that contains passing motions, as Schenkers text implies.
disregarding the detour in the form of a turn gure before the d: (e
,
)dc

d in
bars 16879. If one recalls, however, that the descent of the lines, already evident
from bar 130 in abbreviated form, is referable to the motion that follows:
then one can understand that, in a still deeper sense, this d
2
in bar 179 stands for
another tone of the dominant, a
1
, and that the path up to d
2
was taken only for the
specic purpose of gaining the leap of a fth needed to introduce the motto (of the
second subject which follows). In addition, Fig. 11 shows not only the further activ-
ity of the rst fourth-progressions, but also the path from the primary tone of the
rst part of the development, a
,
, to the primary note of the second, g (see Fig. 7).
The second part of the development begins in bar 180 with the motto of the
second subject group. The second tone of the principal motive, which in both its
rst and second version (Ia and IIa in Fig. 3) has only the function of a neighbor
note in the Urlinie, is reduced in this section to the passing note that lies con-
cealed behind every neighbor note (cf. Kontrapunkt i, p. 240/p. 179);
12
thus a
1
in
bar 181 climbs at last to b
1
in bar 187, as does d
2
in bar 189 to e
2
in bar 195. In this
way, there arise nodal points separated by the interval of a fourth, from which de-
velops a lineled by the stringsthat climbs ever higher:
Thus we arrive at f in bar 196. Even here, the chord on F is taken up as the IV
of the home key, and it is essential to gain the dominant. In a powerful develop-
mental construction full of the wonder of synthesis, the linestill rising, as it was
in the two previous eight-bar groups, but now led by the wind instruments
takes the path from f
1
to e
,
1
:
{36} The following illustrations may be of some help in explaining the con-
struction of the development:
Fig. 14a shows the very simplest way in which consecutive fths may be avoided
by using a 56 exchange together with a chromatic passing note between IV
3
and
V
3
. If, in addition, the starting triad is minor, as in Fig. 14b, then the dismantling
of the minor third allows for an extension, before the original path is resumed.
13
Fig. 14c shows how the line prepares itself for the ascending path by means of an-
ticipations, in which the second tone of the principal motive is always hidden.
Beethoven strives rst toward the nodal point of a fourth, b
,
(bar 209), and in-
deed onlywhat a categorical imperative of the ear!because he wanted to sac-
rice an explicit association between the earlier fourth-progressions and this one,
even in the midst of a transitional passage! From this nodal point, one can then
also understand the path through g
,
and a in terms of B
,
minor:
bar 204 209
V
3
I
, 3
The further the path ascends, however, the more hesitant becomes its course,
as Fig. 14d shows: the space between tones continues to increase. Bar 209 was
originally a metrically weak bar; by its being changed to a strong bar, which
tonwi lle 1
32
12
In his discussion of second-species counterpoint, Schenker regards the dissonant neighbor note
as an inferior form of passing note.
13
[S]It may be noted, incidentally, that exactly the same procedure is used in Beethovens Piano
Sonata in D minor, Op. 31, No. 2, rst movement, bars 157:
makes bar 210 weak, the nodal point is even more emphatically underscored, so
that there is no longer any diculty in recognizing that, from this point onward,
only the wind instruments play in the strong bars. This state of hesitation and
suspended breath is shattered with the most violent force, taking the listener al-
most completely by surprise, by the motto of the rst subject group in the form
Ibin the inner voices. At rst, however, the upper line remains untroubled by
this outcry. Even if the inner voices let out a cry of Become! from the interior
of the harmony, still the upper line heeds the irresistible force of dying only in the
following groups of bars. Still more frequent, stronger blows are needed (see bars
24148) before the d
2
of the upper line becomes totally extinguished and, at bar
249, is resurrected anew in the e
,
2
of the opening motto. {27}
Bars 254. As in all other masterworks, the principle of variation in the recapit-
ulation also applies to the Fifth Symphony. Instead of a merely purring along vac-
uously, the reprise breathes new life into the work through a variety of detail.
Thus already in the rst subject the bassoon and oboe make their mark, the lat-
ter even in a soloistic manner by ornamenting a fermata in bar 268; this takes the
place of the cry at bars 2224 in the exposition and thus provides equilibrium at
a higher level.
The bassoons, not the horns, introduce the second subject in the recapitula-
tion. This happens, as was said,
14
merely for sake of originality and variety. In
contrast to bars 2933, the strings play in unison in bars 27376. A change in the
accompaniment is necessary in bars 33145, compared to bars 8393, on account
of the changed harmonic circumstances:
In the earlier passage the extension is played out on

IV
, 7
before the harmony
moves to V; here the extension proceeds at the outset on V, but can take no other
form than a mixture of minor and major intervals, a
,
and a

. (Although theoreti-
cally conceivable, a similar mixture involving g
,
and g

would have been impossible

in bars 8393 on the grounds that g

had to be reserved for the fth-progression

that followed.) As Fig. 15 shows, the transition from minor (a
,
2
) to major (a
2
)
takes place approximately in the middle of the fourteen-bar group; and the force
of the mixture here is so powerful on its own that no further artices of slurring
are needed to strengthen its eect.
The coda unfolds in three sections, all of which are marked by an ascending
linesee the graph of the Urlinie and Fig. 7from the tonic, c, followed by a
line falling back to the tonic (see bars 374, 439, and 469) The range of the falling
line is the greatest in the rst of these sections, where it covers the full space of a
fth, g
2
c
2
(bars 40729). The minor third in this fth-progression responds to
the major-mode fth progression in the recapitulation, bars 34673. At bar 399,
the interpretation of bars 15 as V
6 5
is conrmed. The Urlinie makes the excep-
tional richness of transitional material in bars 40724 particularly clear. The pur-
pose of the nal section is to introduce the ascending leading tone, which was
similarly brought into play at the end of the exposition (see Fig. 7).
(This essay is continued in Tonwille 5.)
Beethovens Fifth Symphony
33
14
Schenker has not previously discussed the issue of bassoons versus horns in bars 3036, but the
matter will come up twice in the continuation of the essay, in Tonwille 5, in his remarks on the auto-
graph score and on performance.
The Urlinie of the prelude takes the following course:
It is immediately evident here that the Urlinie has the form of what is in es-
sence a three-note motive, whose reproductive urge (see Harmonielehre, pp. 4/
pp. 4 5) gives birth to countless repetitions.
1
Granted, such a motive, since it has
just three notes, is in itself nothing more than the elaboration [Auskomponier-
ung] of any given space of a third, and its repetition is also, in itself, nothing more
than a repetition; but here, how dierently does each execution of the motive take
shape, and how dierently does each repetition appear! How suddenly the chords
change in quantity and harmonic meaning in order to bring forth that three-note
succession and, especially, how multifarious is the manner in which the repeti-
tions are interwoven with one another. In bars 4 5, 67, 31, 32, and 3839 of this
prelude, the last note of the succession becomes the rst of the repetitionthis is
the simplest manner. Elsewhere, repetitions are joined by stepwise motionand
indeed, this is the case not only in bars 2526, but also in bars 89, 1011, 1213,
and 2324, where suspensions mask the actual stepwise connections [between
motives] and seem to stretch the successions to four notes. Sometimes the lead-
ing tonesascending in bars 15 and 28, descending in bars 19 and 36necessi-
tate completions of the three-note successions, whereby they once again {39} form
apparent four-note ones (even though, in themselves, they merely present the
elaboration of a third within the dominant chords). Elsewhere, as in bars 16, 20,
and 22, the head note of the next succession overlaps with the concluding tone.
2
But how limited all of this richness is when compared to the overabundance
of fantasy by which the master conveys the Urlinie from its ethereal world into
reality! Compared to a life force that causes original creations to arise and blos-
som, on account of whose beauty and multifariousness one remains completely
unaware of the underlying cause of the idea: compared to such a life force, how
cheap, how shallow are the words ornamentation and diminution!
Let us step closer to this marvelous world.
The rst note of the Urlinie in bar 1 gives life to an arpeggiation that also puts
in a claim for individual motivic status; this claim stems not only from its repe-
tition in bar 2, but even more from its subsequent usesee the inversion in bars
4, 6, etc., and the variation in bar 3 that stands for the following:
34
The E
,
Minor Prelude from Bachs Well-Tempered Clavier, Book I
Joh. Seb. Bach: Wohltemperiertes Klavier, Band I. Prludium Es-Moll {Tonwille 1, pp. 3845}
t r a ns l at e d b y j os e p h lub b e n
1
The opening pages of Schenkers Harmonielehre ascribe a fundamental importance to motives
and their repetition. In 4, motive is dened as any series of tones that gain recognition by virtue of
repetition.
2
ber den Schluton . . . wie engfhrungsmig draufgesetzt. Schenker is referring to the fugal
technique of stretto.
In bar 4, the line arrives at g
,
1
. Had a repetition of the motive of the Urlinie
been joined to this very note, it would have forced the Urlinie down (since the
motive always falls) to a register in which the two outer voices, on account of
their excessive proximity, would hardly have admitted further diminution, quite
apart from the purely textural disadvantages that would arise if the upper octave
were to lie fallow. The Urlinie is therefore moved up to the register of the two-
line octave, by a simple but ingenious gesture:
Because the same danger and necessity subsequently return, and are treated in
the same manner, this gesture appears to be raised to the status of an independ-
ent motive, thus contributing in its own way to a greater deception: it seems as if
one were dealing with a completely chaotic world here, in which the freest mo-
tivic development is the only rule.
We encounter the same gesture in bar 8, where it helps to raise the Urlinie
(which had fallen since bar 5) as far as c
,
2
. This time, however, the master has al-
ready prepared us expressively for the upper register one bar earlier (bar 7), by
placing a b
,
2
above the note that opens the motive, e
,
1
; to be sure, b
,
2
maintains
the character of a ller note while completing this special assignment. I have al-
ready had the opportunity several times in earlier works (compare the Erluter-
ungsausgabe of Op. 110, pp. 3536/p. 28, and Beethovens neunte Sinfonie, pp. 105,
113/pp. 113, 120, etc.) to point out such a technique, which often recurs in the
works of the great masters; conveniently, a law may be perceived thereinspeci-
cally the law of an obligatory treatment, so to speak, of the pitch register.
3
The
particular case in bars 78 may serve as a typical example: even that rst leap {40}
to g
,
2
in bar 4 is fundamentally validated by this very law, even though the high
register had admittedly been given in bars 13 by a diminution that remained free
from the obligations of the Urlinie.
In bar 10 the rst cadential cycle is completed, and immediately the I is rein-
terpreted as the IV in B
,
minor, whereupon with the cadence IVVI the com-
position turns directly to this new key, the key of the dominant.
The c
3
that in bar 11 is placed up above g
,
2
, the actual, operative note of the
Urlinie, merely serves as an outlet for the b
,
2
in bar 10.
In bar 12, the tonic of the new key appears for the rst time, and it is followed
then in bars 1316 by two more cycles of harmonic degrees:
bar: 12 13 14 15 16
harmonic degree: I | IV II | V I IV | V | I
The harmonic rhythm in bars 1314, , is especially noteworthy.
Even more powerful here, however, is the art of the diminution that seeks to
erode the high register of the two-line octave in bars 1213, ultimately in order to
settle rmly in the lower octave in bars 14 15! In connection with this, the antic-
ipation in the sixth quarter-note beat of bar 12 performs an especially beautiful
service: the note of anticipation appears initially as g
,
1
; however, an arpeggio in
bar 13 then leads up to g
,
2
, and thus a deception arises here, as though the antic-
ipation had really been intended for this g
,
2
; but at the beginning of bar 14 f
1
nally conrms that already in bar 12, at that rst moment of anticipation, the
note g
,
1
was clearly entrusted with the task of absorbing, as it were, the upper
voice of the composition (which indeed still holds rmly to g
,
2
in bar 13) and of
extinguishing the two-line octave in this manner. From bar 13 on, it is therefore
g
,
1
that should be watchedas an obligatory inner voice that nally proceeds to
f
1
in bar 14.
With the tonic at the beginning of bar 16, the rst section of the piece has
come to a close; there now follows the return through A
,
minor to the principle
key of E
,
minor (see Fig. 1).
Bach elaborates the diminished-seventh chord of VII especially beautifully
in bars 1718. It is important here for the line, after it has sunk to b
,
1
in bar 16,
to regain the high register, and for this purpose Bach once again utilizes the
gesture that was used for the rst time in bar 4, which he places here, to be sure,
in the service of an arpeggiation as well: b
,
d
,
f
,
g in the upper voice. Obvi-
ously, this procedure indeed also allows the lower voice to proceed simultane-
ously in thirds:
The E
,
Minor Prelude from Bachs Well-Tempered Clavier, Book I
35
3
Obligate Fhrung . . . der Tonlage. The name of this concept, which appears frequently in Schenk-
ers writings of the 1920s, is shortened to obligate Lage in Der freie Satz. The passages from the Ninth
Symphony monograph concerns the reworking of the wind parts in the recapitulation of the rst
movement by conductors who did not understand this concept, which is expressed as die Gesetze des
Anschlusses der Oktoven, the laws of connection of the octaves.
l h h h l
w
h
Nonetheless Bach prefersindeed only for the purpose of expansionto sepa-
rate the paths of the outer voices, thereby simulating imitations.
In the second half-note beat of bar 18 the space between g
2
and f
,
2
is elabo-
rated (see the NB in Fig. 4); {41} as an augmented second it is naturally too
small, however, to incorporate the motive of a third as it stood up to this point in
service of the elaboration. Bach is thus required, if at the very least the rhythm of
the motive is to be maintained in this space, to add still one further sixteenth
note, namely e
,
2
. It, however, has nothing to do with that motive of a third any-
more; rather, it is asked to operate only as an anticipation. (Therefore all of the
editions which have an f here instead of f
,
are incorrect. Compare in this respect
my edition of the Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue, bars 21 and 31, where Bach must
give up altogether elaborating the space of an augmented second in the VII
7
of D
minor, because it could not be translated into a motive of a third.)
The tonic of A
,
minor is reached at the third half-note beat of bar 18, where-
upon a cadence follows (IVVI), conrming the key more strongly.
The comparison between the motive of the Urlinie that is relevant in these
bars and its realization in the score shows moreover that the c
,
3
that is interposed
between d
,
3
and b
,
2
has been removed by substitution. As I have shown in Freier
Satz, it is indeed a very common occurrence that single notes of the Urlinie are
not given as complete an expression in the diminution as the Urlinie requires: the
exchange of consonant notes of the same chord, which is characteristic of free
composition, is also introduced occasionally within the Urlinie itself; but what is
an obvious consequence of this is that the diminution, precisely on account of its
own special motivic process, is often forced into the position of leaving the note
of the Urlinie to be divined, rather than recognized clearly and directly.
In bar 20, the piece proceeds to E
,
minor, simply by reinterpreting the tonic
of A
,
minor. It has already been mentioned that the Urlinie in these bars super-
imposes c
,
3
above a
,
2
. The two notes that follow c
,
3
, b
,
2
and a
,
2
, now occur in the
right hand at the beginning of bar 21, while the expected g
,
2
, the goal tone of the
passing seventh (usually called the resolution of the seventh) is not given until
the following bar in the bass. At that time, however, a new repetition of the mo-
tive of the Urlinie is simultaneously (thus once again with an overlap) initiated
in the upper voice on e
,
2
. The arpeggiation in these bars makes use of an inver-
sion of the motive of bar 4.
Now in bar 22 the line arrives at the tonic of the principal tonality, and the
repetitions continue along over two cycles of harmonic degrees:
bar: 22 23 24 25 267 28 29
harmonic degree: I | IV | V | I | ,
II | V | IV
Their purpose is clearly to bring the Urlinie at last to a full close, that is, to achieve
for it the leading-tone of the principal tonality, as the conclusion in the purely
melodic and contrapuntal sense (see Kontrapunkt i, pp. 142, 232/pp. 102, 171). By
means of these repetitions, however, the Urlinie here would once again have de-
scended too far (to e
,
1
) had not Bach taken care to lead the line up in a timely
fashion to the two-line octave, to g
,
2
, as he had done earlier in bars 4, 8, and 16.
Already this fact alone should have convinced someone like Forkel, who closes
our prelude at this place and then just tacks on four more bars, that a true end-
ing could not yet take place here; how could a piece possessing the character of
our prelude be allowed to conclude in such a high register as is represented by e
,
2
,
especially considering that the ending would then come to lie higher than the be-
ginning and the middle (both at b
,
1
)? The four bars that he appends, in which the
line is hurriedly lowered to e
,
1
, do not change anything. No, this very path down
to e
,
1
should still be traversed in detail once more. {42} This alone was the reason
for elevating the line in bar 25: to make a new descent possible.
4
The realization in bars 2628 requires special explanation. As the graph in
Fig. 1 shows, another neighbor note, d
2
, is inserted between f
,
2
and e
,
2
of the Ur-
linie (bars 2628); it joins a lower voice that comes from f
,
, and then proceeds
together with it in sixths (
de ,
fg , ), while the higher inner voice proceeds from a
,
in
bar 26 to b
,
in bar 27, and from there on to c
,
in the same bar, at the second half-
note beat (although in the course of the arpeggiation this note is taken over by
the right hand as c
,
2
). In light of this, however, the chord in bar 27 is not to be
understood as the expected dominant (in third inversion); on the contrary, it
came into existence through a merely coincidental meeting of a neighbor note
and two passing tones over a stationary bass note. A bolder and more eective
tonwi lle 1
36
4
Schenker is referring to a handwritten copy of selected preludes and fugues from the Well-
Tempered Clavier made by the early Bach scholar Johann Nikolaus Forkel and included in the list of
sources drawn up for the Bach-Gesellschaft edition (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hrtel, 1866). Schenker
owned a copy of this edition, and made several annotations to the critical report.
According to the editor, Franz Kroll, the text of Forkels copy agrees with the version of the Well-
tempered Clavier brought out in 1801 by the Leipzig rm of Khnel & Homeister, who also published
Forkels inuential monograph, ber Johann Sebastian Bachs Leben, Kunst und Kunstwerke (1802). Al-
though Kroll could nd no eighteenth-century source for this reading, one should not conclude that
Forkel made them himself, as Schenker implies.
passing motion than the one we see here is hardly imaginable. What an unearthly
awareness of the notes, what a tonal conscience it takes to mislead us, by the com-
pelling appearance of the voicesprecisely in the same moment in which ca-
dential logic and the Urlinie all the more stubbornly insist on one progression,
namely, the nal motion to the Vto show us a chord that presents itself to us
as the dominant that we expect but nevertheless will signify nothing more than
an extended detour to it. What courage it takes to dare such a deception, to take
on such danger so candidly and tranquilly! Oh, there are a good many passing
motions that are apparently more complicated, but only a few are comparable to
this one, which with so much determination toward one direction unexpectedly
reveals a new determination for a completely dierent direction.
The deceptive cadence at the beginning of bar 29 forms a bridge to the nal
cadences. One more time, for the last time, the Urlinie sets out from e
,
2
, in order
nally to land on the concluding note, e
,
1
, in bar 37.
The bass line in bars 2932 originates from a passage in thirds in the outer
voices, of which I speak in greater detail in Freier Satz:
One gathers from this not only that both the g in the bass in bar 30 and the f
,
in
the bass in bar 31 appear merely as substitutions for lower parallel thirds (al-
though they also operate incidentally as neighbor-notes), but also that f
,
has
taken the immediate place of e
,
here, obviously in order somehow to split the dis-
tance between e
,
and f . What clairvoyance indeed, to draw out of a unison (and
f
,
f is nothing more) the eect of a neighbor note, since a neighbor note pre-
sumes the interval of a second! How many secretssubstitutions, shortcuts, uni-
sons for seconds, etc.the notes share among themselves here, while giving an
outward appearance that is so modest and simple!
As the realization in bars 3236 shows, here the master has also declined to
place the relevant portion of the Urlinie over only one harmonic degree, the
dominant (just as in bars 1315 and 1620); and although in bars 3536 the notes
c
,
1
and b
,
do not disavow their role as simple decorations, Bach has nonetheless
dared, in order to increase the strength of the cadence, to place b
,
over the tonic,
thereby ceding to the dominant only the two leftover notes of the line, g
,
1
and f
,
1
.
{43} The interposition of the root, D, in bar 35 also proved to be a necessity of
voice-leading, since otherwise consecutive fths would have resulted:
The diminutions of the bass in bar 32 illustrate in the fourth quarter-note
beat what is in essence a turn, which indeed is related to the rising motive that is
repeated in the last three sixteenth notes (already known to us from bars 20 and
21). The same applies to bars 33 and 34.
The coda begins in bar 37. It includes a pedal point on I, above which IIV
V occurs, while two more repetitions of the motive of the Urlinie take the path
down to the major third of the tonic.
In bar 38, the function of the right-hand diminution is, in part, to introduce
the ascending leading tone d
1
.

Only such a recognition of the connections between the Urlinie and its realiza-
tion, and of the relationship between the two outer voices, can provide a suitable
basis for solving the problems confronting publishers, theorists, historians, crit-
ics, performers, etc. How many grave errors they would have been able to avoid,
all of those who entered variant upon variant in their own copies, or indeed even
in the manuscripts of the master himself, or those that also allowed such alter-
ations to be printed in the editions that they issued!
Consider as a specic example the performance directions of editors. To see
how inconsistent these are in almost every case with the directions dictated by the
content, one needs only to cast a glance at Czernys edition for Peters:
As early as bar 3 there is a crescendo, which leads all the way to a forte in bar
5, although the line has barely taken its rst steps here. To be sure, it is correct that
in the latter bar the chromatic f
,
should be underscored dynamicallysuch pre-
cepts were indeed, as history attests, part of the rm foundation of musical train-
ing even in earliest timesbut in no way should such an underscoring be al-
lowed to develop into a forte.
In bar 9, where the suspension establishes itself for the rst time, the force
of law requires a >from the resolution of the suspension, but a slight crescendo
(supplied by the left hand) must rst have led up to it. Czernys indications, how-
ever, yield just the opposite.
The E
,
Minor Prelude from Bachs Well-Tempered Clavier, Book I
37
In bars 1011 we nd another crescendo , while here again we should merely
proceed as in bars 89.
According to Czerny, the forte of bar 11 should lead by way of a diminuendo
in bar 12 to a piano in bar 13 that, except for a gentle <>surge across bars
14 15, should remain in bars 14 15. Thus, precisely when the new key is trying to
develop, Czerny would have the driving force denied and smothered under a
pianoeven though it is so natural to grant expression to that modulatory force
with a crescendo beginning in the third half-note of bar 13, a crescendo that will
not yield to a diminuendo until the third half-note beat of bar 15 (where it yields
on account of the resolution of the suspension).
{44} The return in bars 16 should also, according to Czerny, begin piano, but
already he includes a crescendo in the same bar, and in the next one even a forte.
Once again, however, it corresponds more closely to the reality of the situation to
direct an intensication toward the tied-over note in bar 18, and only from this
point to let the force subside again. Obviously, Czerny did not trust the law of
performance of tied-over notes suciently, if he could bring himself to place
contrarily a >as early as the third half-note beat of bar 18, thereby depriving
the syncopation of that which by right belongs to it.
In bars 2021, a crescendo is indeed in order, as Czerny suggests, but it should
not be allowed to lead all the way to a forte in bar 22; rather it is advantageous in
bar 22 to match the most secret genesis of e
,
2
with a pianissimo, a sotto voce. With
this note, the Urlinie appears to be owing from a new source; how therefore
should a forte bet the tender wonder of such a rebirth, a forte that is in fact the
hallmark of a life that is already full and broadly owing? And how tenderly
should one play the f
2
that, just at the second half-note beat of bar 24, lies so far
from the actual path of the Urlinie; the attack should barely brush it, more softly
than a glance from a forest path falls into the underbrush.
The ascent to the two-line octave in bar 25, to be sure, requires a crescendo,
and on this point Czerny is correct; indeed, he is also correct to return again to a
piano at the deceptive cadence in bar 29; only there again, however, a dolce is of
course too extreme: have we not, at this place, returned to our point of departure,
and is there not still a long way to go before the conclusion?
In bar 32, a crescendo marking occurs precisely at a place that should really
rather be immersed in the darkest and most secret shades. The falling Urlinie
here has already reached the note of the subdominant that, however, under the
most mystical circumstances of voice-leading (see earlier) now suddenly falls into
the lap of VII; from this it follows that the compositional elaboration still has a
long, long stretch ahead of it.
A forte in bar 35 can be approved; however, in no way can the sign >at the
third half-note, since at this place too every bit of warmth must still be sum-
moned in order nally to reach g
,
1
; not until this notehere also the law of res-
olution is operativeis a diminuendo in order again.
It should only be mentioned in passing that the decoration in the third half-
note beat of bar 36 represents, to adapt an expression of Emanuel Bach, a trill
with a weak grace-note.
Without doubt, bar 37 should be held at piano; nonetheless the seventh, d
,
,
can not be allowed to go by without a certain emphasis.
The diminuendo in bar 38 is certainly applied too early; and likewise the pi-
anissimo comes too soon at the beginning of bar 39; rather, it is correct to apply
the diminuendo only in bar 39, and the pianissimo in bar 40.

Of all the theoretical and aesthetic evaluations of this piece, only two shall be
discussed here by way of example.
In his biography of Bach, volume I, p. 777, Spitta writes:
The prelude in E
,
minor is one of the most ingenious of them all. From
this germ:
tonwi lle 1
38
5
Philipp Spitta, Johann Sebastian Bach, 187380, third edition Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Hrtel,
1921; English translation, in three volumes, by Clara Bell and J. A. Fuller-Maitland (London: Novello,
that is turned in dierent directions, sometimes in the right hand, some-
times in the left hand, sometimes broken up, sometimes appearing to be
dissolved by guration (while massive chords proceed in a steady half-
note pulse), a piece that stands alone among Bachs works unfolds. The
triumph that the motivic art celebrates here is all the greater, since we are
made completely unaware of it by the spellbinding mood that envelops us
in ponderous gloom, {45} as on a sultry, stormy evening, when no breeze
is blowing and bluish lightning ares up on the black horizon. The ex-
pression becomes moribund from bar 29 on; the major mode at the con-
clusion breathes forth in an unearthly manner.
5
A later author, Riemann, writes on p. 58 his Katechismus der Fugen-Komposition:
If one can dene the character of the E
,
major prelude with its great fugue
as power paired with seriousness and dignitywhich certainly corre-
sponds indeed to the general character of the key of E
,
major (while the
second fugue proves that it can also put on a friendlier face)then in the
two pieces before us in E
,
minor we are confronted by an even more com-
pelling agreement between the general character of the key and the partic-
ular content of Bachs idea. Deeply serious and full of elevated inspiration,
the prelude strides along in 3/2 time; a noble, grand feeling is expressed by
long passages of a melody that sometimes views us with bright eyes full of
love, and sometimes sighs mightily, as if gripped by pain over the limited
human faculty that only allows a small portion of the unlimited aspiration
to be realized; in this way I would explain at least the powerful divergence
of the voices at the beginning of the second half: (here bars 1618 are
cited). The construction of the piece, in its basic progressions, is as follows:
That is, the rst (smaller) half (comprising two eight-bar phrases) ca-
dences on the subdominant in passing and the dominant in conclusion;
the second (two phrases with extensions) ranges even further aeld,
through broad statements of diminished seventh chords (the ninth-
chords e
,
9
and e
,
IX<
), though without actually modulating, making full or
deceptive cadences in E
,
minor at all of the main resting points.
6
Oh, what a splendid companion for Sebastian Bach!
7
What barbarism in the
presentation of the content! Do I need to prove perhaps that these basic pro-
gressions (he calls them melodic peaks elsewhere) have nothing to do with my
Urlinie? How could Riemann, if he had uncovered only a fragment of this fun-
damental secret, have led his lines in progressions as bizarre and jagged as those
we nd here? And this manthis un-ear, to put it mildlypresumes not merely
to analyze the entire Well-tempered Clavier and Art of Fugue by Bach in a similar
manner (one can readily perceive, after examining them for himself, that his
presentation of the remaining preludes and fugues also goes haywire), but he also
presumes to present Beethovens piano sonatas as well, and more than all that: to
write a composition manual, indeed even a history of music, when fundamen-
tally he is not even up to the task of authoring a dictionary. Doesnt all of that
provide the strongest evidence for the spiritual decay of the present, for the decay
of hearing, of theory, of art, indeed even of the feeling of personal responsibility?
Forget his works, you new youth! And leave his dictionary to the journalists, who
at least might be able to use the biographical details of artists to pad their copy.
But may it nally be granted to Sebastian Bach that he nd worthier comrades
than Riemann was!
The E
,
Minor Prelude from Bachs Well-Tempered Clavier, Book I
39
1889; reprinted New York: Dover, 1951). The discussion of this prelude in the English translation is
found in volume 2, pp. 17071.
6
Hugo Riemann, Katechismus der Fugen-Komposition: Analyse von J. S. Bachs Wohltemperiertem
Klavier und Kunst der Fuge (Leipzig: Hesse, 18901904); Analyses of J. S. Bachs Wohltemperirtes
Clavier, English translation by J. S. Shedlock (London: Augener, n.d.).
In Riemanns system of harmonic analysis, major chords are analyzed as a stacking of thirds from
the bottom up, minor chords from the top down; additional intervals are given as numbersarabic
in major chords, roman in minor chordswith chromatically raised and lowered intervals identied
by the symbols > and < respectively. Roots are supplied to diminished seventh chords according
to their function: Riemann understands the diminished seventh in the last beat of bar 31 as the four
highest notes of a dominant minor ninth built on E
,
, while that prolonged across bars 3235 is based
on the lower four notes of a ninth-chord reckoned downward as E
,
C
,
A
,
FD
,
.
The parenthetical insertions are by Schenker, not Riemann, and the last of these, Terznone-
nakkorde es
9
> es
XI
<, requires some clarication. To begin with, the angled brackets should have been
set as superscripts, as they signal the lowering and raising, respectively, of the superscripted interval.
The 9> in es
9>
stands for F
,
, the lowered ninth of E
,
major. XI is a misprint for IX (in Fig. 8 it is given
as esX<, also a misprint); the IX< in es
IX<
stands for D

, the raised ninth reckoned downward

from E
,
.
Finally, it should be noted that the sets of double and triple exclamation marks in Fig. 8 are
Schenkers, not Riemanns, and refer to what Schenker regards as gross misreadings of the underlying
melodic line in the prelude.
Because of the numerous errors in Schenkers Fig. 8, Riemanns reading of the prelude (Katechis-
mus der Fugen-Komposition, p. 59) is reproduced at the end of the essay.
7
Zeitgenosse Sebastian Bachs: Schenker is using the word Zeitgenosse in a colloquial sense (Ge-
nosse companion, comrade), and with heavy irony.
tonwi lle 1
40
j
,
,
,
,
,
,
_
_





,





b es b b ges ces es es
j
,
,
,
,
,
,








,

,


b f f b f f f f f
j
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,

,


,

,
es es b b
j
,
,
,
,
,
,





,





es es b b fes . . es
j
,
,
,
,
,
,



,


,
es es es es b
j
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,

b b es es b b
0 VII 7 0 7
(4)
+ 7 0
(8)
v v
b
7
7
7
7
0 7
(4)
0 vii 7 0 7 0
(8) b
vii 6
4
>
T
0
( = S
0
) D
0
( )
I.
II.
9>
. . . . . . . .
0
(4) (4 )
a 0
7 0
(6)
7
(8)
0 +
(= es
0 2>
)
b
0
8a
=2
( )
7
(4)
0 9>
(6)
IX<
. . . . (6 )
a
. .
3
0 0 6
4
>
. .
7
(8=5)
7
(8a)
0
v 7
1
Katechismus der Fugen-Komposition, p. 59: Riemanns original
sketch of the Prelude in E
,
minor
The three-part musical form (a
1
ba
2
) corresponds to the poems three strophes.
Two bars serve as an introduction:
Since it is certainly not possible to detect a motive in these bars, it is a ques-
tion of what other purpose they fulll. Do they just simply introduce the key, or
do they perhaps pregure the initial tone of the voice part, or both? Now be that
as it may, in any event one would still have to ask why the master strikes the same
tone twice when it was also quite possible simply to let it remain sounding dur-
ing the two bars. In fact, the answer to this second question brings us the solution
of the puzzle: repeating that tone in a slow tempo, after a rest no less, amounts to
staring at it, as it were, and while we do this we feel ourselves miraculously trans-
ported right to the side of the unhappy lover, who stands there in gloomy
dreams (in dunkeln Trumen), staring at the picture of his beloved: we, too, now
stare at the picture with him. It is a simple artistic device, is it not, to replace a tone
sustained for two bars with a repetition of that tone interrupted by a rest? and yet
it must take a genius, for only a genius is given the ability to notice the dierence
between such possibilities, just as, generally speaking, only a genius is given the
ability to supply himself instantly, in the midst of a psychological process, with the
power to introduce this type of artistic device. Thus right with the rst notes
Schubert shows himself the true magician, who at once wraps a secret cord
around an external event (staring at a picture, in this case), the soul of the un-
happy lover, and us, a bond that ensures the event will have an eternal future con-
tinually full of new moments well beyond the eect of this one occurrence.
The rst two lines of the rst strophe are performed in unison while the har-
mony runs through IIIV. The augmented fourth in Fig. 2 is not merely the
conveyor of II, it is also the staring eye itself:
In bars 78, the accompaniment repeats the two previous bars and so not only
separates the rst pair of lines from the following pair in a purely formal, con-
ceptual sense, but also characterizes staring as it occurs over the course of time.
The third and fourth lines likewise take up only four bars, during which the
succession of harmonies completes a simple harmonic progression with a full per-
fect cadence, {47} although indeed the cadence is in B
,
major instead of B
,
minor.
Mixing two keys of the same name, which in any event is a frequently used artis-
tic technique (see Harmonielehre, pp. 106/pp. 84 ), must in this case be attrib-
uted less to a perhaps merely supercial application than to a truly strong inter-
nal cause, namely, the apparition: and the beloved face secretly began to come
alive (und das geliebte Antlitz heimlich zu leben begann). Supposing it is correct
that only the lovers continuous immersion in the picture could have elicited that
charming illusion, the fact that the illusion took place nevertheless signies a bil-
low of heightened consciousness in the lovers soul and consequently it is this very
billow of life that rightly nds expression in the transition from minor to major.
Schubert writes the following in bar 8:
and clearly does so, moreover, with the most complete ease. Did he take no ex-
ception, it could be asked, to placing the article in this way on the strong part of
the bar, in a dotted value, no less? And would it not also have been incumbent
upon him to prefer avoiding such a contradiction between the meter and the
natural word stresses? As is well known, more recent composers in fact like to
heavily underscore natural word stresses by sacricing genuine meter for their
41
Schuberts Ihr Bild
Franz Schubert: Ihr Bild (Heine) {Tonwille 1, pp. 4649}
t r a ns l at e d b y r ob e rt s na r re nb e r g
sake. Since they do not sense how much they merely reduce genuine poetry to
prose when, cost what it will, they chase after natural word stress through hill and
dale, and since they also do not sense how only too clearly they betray that they
no longer have sucient command of the musical means for giving meter its due
without endangering the natural stresses, they succeed in imagining that they
achieve God-knows-what for the enhancement of musical expression and truth.
The old masters, however, went down completely dierent paths: out of their su-
perior compositional instinct, they adhered faithfully above all to the poetic
meter and could therefore extract the essentials of musical invention even from
that manner of text setting.
1
Look at our Schubert example:
The rise of the vocal line to e
,
, and besides that a crescendo from bar 8 on, the <
sign in bar 9 leading up to the e
,
, the very highest pitch of the group, and nally the
push toward II (IIIV), these features detract so much from that article and its
placement that it can no longer be regarded as at odds with the natural stress. And
nally, if the poet found it consistent with natural word stress to place the article in
an accented position, then what Schubert did is but the same thing again, and in
point of fact both are decidedly correct, in contrast to those unsure and incapable
composers who promote natural word stress at the expense of the prosody merely
on account of having to conceal that they lack a command of the musical means.
After the second pair of lines, there follows a response in the accompaniment
that, exactly like the rst response, is based on the motive of the last few bars of
the melody.
The second strophe is in G
,
major throughout.
{48} The vision sets forth an example of renewed life for the tender-loving
onlooker:
Um ihre Lippen zog sich Around her lips there played
Ein Lcheln wunderbar a wonderful smile,
Und wie von Wehmutstrnen and how from tears of melancholy
Erglnzte ihr Augenpaar. her eyes did sparkle.
and each tone of the music, too, draws life again from this new life. When, in the
voices of the accompaniment,
the unison gradually opens into a third, one sees veritably how the lips of the
newly revived beloved spread into a smileand note how the adornment of this
smile is reected in bar 17 in the ornamented resolution of the suspended fourth
in the accompaniment!
Yet in no sense does the master lose himself in these individual features. As
creator of this artistic life he stands at its beginning and end alike, he also remains
present in its every breath, and his gaze takes in all that went before and is to
come. For it is also a past moment (bars 56 and 78) that he brings back to life
in bars 1718:
Apart from minor alterations in harmonic progression and melodic guration,
the second pair of lines in the second strophe produces the same musical image.
The text setting in bar 20 (compare bar 16)
is again of the type for which more recent musicians have long since lost the
mettle. But it is clear that the unstressed syllables, since they fall on the weak part
of the bar, remain unstressed, even though they have the duration of half notes.
The soul of the lover now returns from the dreamland of his vision, back to
himself, to the place where his soul remains, alone with itself, resigned to suering
over its loss. For is anything left for him, other than merely staring into memory?
And so the master also follows him down this path of suering. In bars 2324
tonwi lle 1
42
1
Schenker was to return to issues of prosody in his essay on Schuberts Gretchen am Spinnrade;
see Tonwille 6, p. 4.

one nal echo of the vision shudders in ts of staring and then . . .

When the old melody now sounds for a second time (a
2
), the musical poet
has spoken only too truly for the lovers once again lonely soul. He remains so
true to it that he even accommodates the nal two lines, as in bars 914, with a
billow of major mode. With a cry of despair:
Und ach! ich kann es nicht glauben, And oh!, I cannot believe
Da ich dich verloren hab! that I have lost you!
the unhappy lover still clings {49} to the last points of contact with his beloved,
and so this is precisely what the major mode declares: has he actually lost her, so
long as he still feels this way?
Only the seer in the musical poet gazes beyond this moment. He pulls back the
major-mode billow; although it could once support the accompaniments re-
sponse, it can do so no longer,gloomy minor envelopes the entire soulscape . . .
Here is the Urlinie:
2
Schuberts Ihr Bild
43
2
A copy of Tonwille 1 in the Oster Collection (Books and Pamphlets, no. 18) contains some an-
notations to this sketch in Schenkers hand, using a later form of graphic notation that includes the
symbol for interruption (||). The rst twelve bars are marked to be read as follows:
bar 3 (4)5 78 10 11 12
(
,
)3 2 || (

)3 2 1
d
,2
c
2
d
2
c
2
b
,1
A marginal note,
3 2 || 3 2 1 3
I VI,
together with the addition of d
,2
as the upper voice in bar 17 (slurred to the b
,1
in bar 18), conrms
his reading of the Urlinie with a primary tone of 3.

A protest. In 1809, as the imperial court was on the point of abandoning Vienna
under threat from the French,
1
Beethoven wrote his heartfelt, poetic work for
piano, Op.81a, inscribing into the autograph manuscript the following move-
ment titles: Farewell on the Departure of His Imperial Highness the Archduke
Rudolph, May 4, 1809; Absence; Return of His Imperial Highness the Arch-
duke Rudolph, January 30, 1810.
2
The rst German publisher of the sonata felt at liberty to print the titles solely
in French, thereby not only oending against the composers convictions but also
violating his express wishes.
3
To be sure, the tones of this sonata do not portray Beethovens hatred of the
French. On the contrary, with what matchless nobility does this pure instrumen-
tal music upraise itself, incapable ever of evoking such conceptually gloomy feel-
ings and thoughts as hate, lies, and such like. Instead, its tones revolve around
aection, pain, and joy, to the purely spiritual bearing of which they are so at-
tuned because they themselves are likewise purely disposed. Nevertheless, the so-
nata does express, directly through the movement headings and in other ways, an
anti-French frame of mind. It is historically beyond question that Beethoven
came to hate the French. Even the French themselves know this, though, vain and
limited as they are, it does not trouble them that as an entire people they are eter-
nally judged and stigmatized through the hatred of one so incomparable, who
has borne aloft heroically and in godlike fashion a whole humanity on the wings
of his love and his trust. That Beethoven hated, could so have hated, one can only
wonder what sort of hideous sneer must have greeted him, by which he would
not have been deceived by any appearance of civilization, spirit, taste, or form.
Thus Beethoven in 1809.
During the years of the disastrous collapse,
4
however, inicted by an igno-
minious diktat masquerading as a treaty
5
in crudely democratic fashion upon
German Austria,
6
Viennese musicians chose to organize concerts under the French
protectorate.
7
Although imbued with the tradition of a Brahms, they did not
44
Miscellanea
Vermischtes {Tonwille 1, pp. 5055}
t r a ns l at e d b y i a n b e nt
1
That is, the second occupation of Vienna by Napoleon (the rst having been in 18056), during
which time the Austrians rst defeated the French army at Aspern, and then were decisively defeated
at Wagram.
2
The heading in the autograph score of the rst movement, in the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde
in Vienna, reads: Das Lebe Wohl / Wien am 4ten May 1809 / bej der Abreise S Kaiserl. Hoheit / des
Verehrten Erzherzogs / Rudolf. The remainder of the autograph disappeared in the 1860s.
3
On May 20, 1811, Beethoven urged his publishers, Breitkopf & Hrtel, to make the title, as I
wrote it, in French and German, denitely not in French aloneand likewise the movement head-
ings. Breitkopf complied only with part of this request, printing the headings bilingually, viz. Das
Lebewohl (Les adieux), Abwesenheit. Labsence, Le retour / das Wiedersehn. They omitted the
longer inscriptions (giving the Archdukes departure and return dates) and, instead of providing a
bilingual title page, issued separate editions with the title pages in either French or German.
A subsequent letter of Beethovens (October 11, 1811) complained of the publishers disregard of
his intentions and, specically, their lack of sensitivity to the dierence between the German Lebe-
wohl (a term of intimacy) and the French adieux (appropriate for large gatherings). His words
went unheeded: for the second and third editions of the sonata (1817, 1821), the publishers used the
French title page exclusively.
4
The Habsburg monarchy (Schenker was a monarchist and a believer in an aristocratic ruling
class) collapsed in November 1918. Severe shortages of food and fuel had begun in January, followed
by civilian strikes, and mutinies in the army and navy. Between 1919 and 1921, the urban population
of Austria relied on relief from the Allies, and ination became severe.
5
The Peace Treaty of Saint Germain-en-Laye (Paris) of September 10, 1919, between Austria and
the Allied and Associated Powers (the principals of which were America, the British Empire, France,
Italy, and Japan). Diktat was widely used by Germans and Austrians to indicate that the terms of the
Treaty had been worked out in negotiations from which they had been excluded.
6
Deutsch-sterreich: The National Assembly for German Austria was formed on October 21,
1918. On November 12 it declared itself a democratic republic, and part of the German republic. The
term was problematic in its time. To the Allies, it meant the Austrian half of the former dual monar-
chy of Austria-Hungary. To the German Austrians, it meant all parts of the Austro-Hungarian Empire
in which a majority of inhabitants were Germans, including areas of Bohemia and Moravia, and ar-
guably of Hungary and Yugoslavia. The designation Deutsch-sterreich was proscribed by Article 81
of the Saint-Germain Treaty in favor of Republik sterreich, and annexation to the German repub-
lic was denied.
7
Protectorate: a state or territory placed under the protection of a superior power. Early in 1919,
France was delegated to police central Europe on behalf of the Allied Supreme War Council, including
shrink from subjugating themselves to the protectorate of the Gallic vomited lie
(Jean Paul), a deed both cowardly and uncalled for. With this act of submission,
on the face of it a purely nominal act, they have actually besmirched the honor of
our great masters, particularly those of German music. In the face of this shame-
less piece of mischief, committed by musicians whose unwashed ears and minds
have left them unable to dierentiate a creator of tonal worlds such as Beethoven
from such brainless French nonentities as Debussy, Ravel, and othersin the
face of this, I for my part do hereby lodge my protest, and, in nominating myself
also as the educator of future generations of French musicians (I shall be ready
to conscate from the Germans their false textbooks, by which they still continue
to challenge their greatest masters), I am actually extending the protectorate to
cover French musicians.
I will administer it not in the French manner, but by the German way of truth.
The French will have to honor the hand of a Boche,
8
which brings light into the
darkness of all their clarity. The truth will humble them, of that I am sure: much
{51} more so than their lies and slander, much more so than all their measures to
protect their civilization in the face of the German barbarians can humble the
Germans. All they are trying to do with these pretexts is to conceal and gloss over
their common acts of pilferage.
9
If their vanity should prevent them from seeing,
as the truth would reveal to them, their puny stature, that will still be powerless
over truth. Whether an accommodation of the sort that the German democrats
are pushing for is admissible or not also depends on truth. To come to an accom-
modation with the French at the cost of truth would be to sink to their triviality
of mind and superciality of taste without any advantage to oneself.
So much more pressing are the demands of the greatness of German artistic
products, and also of the protection of higher culturehow very greatly human-
ity would lose in self-condence if it did not recognize its ability to rise to the
heights of a Beethoven, a Mozart, a Goethe, or a Kant. So much more pressing
that, on the contrary, it is the French who should come to an accommodation with
the Germans, even at the cost of their vanity, in order to learn from them, in so
far as they are ever capable of learning anything. Without needing any cowardly
diktat of the sort that forced Germans, for example, to leak secrets from chemi-
cal factories, I will, out of love for mankind, gladly divulge in these pages even to
Frenchmen the method of composing used by German geniuseslet them see if
they can make use of it. Although no great multitude even of Germans will come
forward to share the musical sensibility and greatness of a Beethoven, at least it
was Germany that produced that mighty one, and not just him alone but several
other masters of his rank, on which account one may make allowances also for
composers of lesser quality than they, and even for the worst of textbooks.
A protectorate for Anglo-Saxon composers would be a waste of time: a boa
constrictor cannot sing. Anyone who is such a pitiful coward as to strangle and kill
children and whole nations the moment his business is threatened, despite ex-
tremely favorable conditions and merely because of his own ineptitude in eco-
nomic competition, is condemned, to his own shame and that of humanity, to go
through life musically deaf and dumb. How on earth, then, should an art that, by
secretly spinning out tonal lines into musical creations imbued with life, elevates
human creativity through just such enchantment with aims and ends to the
realm of the divine, be indigenous to a nation for which, as history attests, com-
prehensive pilfering was and is always preferable to a heaven full of tonal lines,
even indeed to the Heaven of God itself !

Mozarts Stay in Paris (from letters to his father). May 1, 1778: . . . You write that
I should pay lots of visits to people so as to make new acquaintances and renew
old ones. But that is just not possible. It is too far to walk, and everywhere is too
lthy underfoot, for Paris is covered in indescribable muck. If you travel by car-
riage, you have the honor of paying four or ve livres a day, and all in vain: for
people merely pay me compliments and thats it. They book me for such and such
a day, I go and play, then its O cest un prodige, cest inconcevable, cest tonnant!,
and next minute its Adieu. When I rst arrived, I spent tons of money that way,
and often to no good, because I didnt nd the people at home. Nobody who is
not here can imagine how embarrassing it is. Paris has totally changed. The
French no longer have as much politesse as they did fteen years ago. They verge
on the uncouth, and they are disgustingly stuck-up . . .
. . . If only the people in this place had ears and an ounce of feeling, under-
stood just a modicum about music and showed some gusto, I would cheerfully
{52} laugh all these things o; but I am surrounded by nothing but cattle and
Miscellanea
45
Austria. Schenker reverses the idea by oering a protectorate of French, and even English and Amer-
ican, musicians.
8
Boche (French: rascal) was used derogatorily in the First World War to denote Germans.
9
Presumably referring to the lands that were taken away from Austria and Germany by the peace
settlements of 1919, and to reparations, on which the French took a particularly hard line and pre-
vailed.
asses (so far as music is concerned). How could it be otherwise, though: they are
just the same in all their doings, their feelings, their enthusiasms. There is truly
no place on earth like Paris. You must not think I am exaggerating when I speak
like this of the music here. Ask whoever you likejust so long as they are not
French-bornand (if there is anybody to turn to) they will tell you the same.
Now that I am here, I must stick it out, as you would wish. I shall thank Almighty
God if I get out of here with my gusto unsullied. I beg God every day to give me
the grace to stick it out resolutely, and to bring such honor upon myself and the
whole German nation as will redound to His greater honor and glory, and that
He permit me to be a success, to earn enough money to be in a position to help
you out of your present distressed circumstances and get you back on your feet,
and that we may soon be reunited, and live together happily and contentedly. For
the rest, His will be done, on earth as it is in heaven . . .
May 29, 1778: . . . but what comforts me most and keeps my spirits up is . . .
that I am an honest German and that, if I cannot always say what I want, at least
I can think it. But thats the only thing there is . . .
July 3, 1778: So for sheer joy, after the symphony was over, I took myself into
the Palais Royalgot myself a scrumptious ice creamsaid my rosary as I had
promised to doand went home, since I am always happiest at home and would
always rather be at my own home or at that of a good, true, upright German
who if he is single lives a virtuous life alone like a good Christian, and who if he
is married loves his wife and brings his children up properly . . .
July 9, 1778: . . . Kapellmeister [Johann Christian] Bach will also be here
soonI gather he is to write an opera. The French are and always will be utter
asses: they are incapable of anything themselves, so have to resort to foreigners . . .
. . . If I get to compose an opera, I will get my fair share of aggravation. It
would not bother me too much, though, since I am used to it already. If only the
accursed French language were not so unspeakably ill-suited to music! Now
theres something vileGerman sounds quite divine by comparison. Then
there are the singers, though they dont deserve that name, for far from singing
they screech, howl, and bellow with all their might, through their noses and
throats . . .
July 31, 1778: . . . Just imagine! The Duc de Guines, whose house I was obliged
to visit every day and remain for two hours, let me give twenty-four lessons (pay-
ment is supposed to be after every twelve), then went o to the campagne and
came back ten days later without getting anybody to say a word to me. If I had
not myself had the wit to ask, I would still not know they are back. In the end, the
housekeeper took out a purse and said: Forgive me if I pay you only for twelve
lessons this time, but I do not have sucient money,thats noblesse for you
and doled out three louis dor, adding: I hope you will be satised; if not, then
please say so. M. le Duc did not have an honorable bone in his body, and must
have thought: He is only a young fellow, and a stupid German to bootthat is
how all the French speak of Germanshe will be well pleased with that. The stu-
pid German was not at all pleased with that, and was not content to let the mat-
ter rest. So the duc was hoping to pay me one hour for two hours worth, and that
without gard for the fact that he has now had a concerto for ute and harp from
me for four months and has still not paid me for it. I {53} shall bide my time only
until the wedding is over; then I shall go to the housekeeper and demand my
money . . .
. . . I assure you that if I get to write an opera I shall have no qualms. The
devil himself created the [French] language, it is true, and I absolutely appreciate
the diculties that all compositeurs have run into with it. But despite this, I feel
as well equipped to surmount these diculties as anybody else. Au contraire,
whenever I imagine (as I do frequently) that the time has come for my opera, my
whole body seems to blaze, and my hands and feet tremble, with a desire to teach
the French to know, appreciate, and fear Germans once and for all. Why do you
suppose nobody entrusts a major opera to a Frenchman? Why does it always have
to be a foreigner? For me, the most insuerable thing would be the singers. But I
feel equal to the task. I shall not pick any quarrels; but if anybody should chal-
lenge me, I shall know how to defend myself. I will be all the happier, though, if
things can unfold without their coming to a duel, since I do not much fancy
scrapping with midgets . . .
Since 1778, nothing has changed. Mozart has remained Mozart; the French
have remained the French. He: scorning all mundane interpretations of history,
all schools and labels (Romantic, neo-Franco-German, Expressionist,
etc.), transcending every forward step by which those unequal to him arrogate
unto themselves and will ever more arrogate unto themselves, eternally sur-
rounded by the inexhaustible wonders of his synthesizing art, yet perceiving
nothing of it to this day. They: the selfsame seers and false prophets of freedom
and truth, with the very same crudeness and impudence (the word comes from
the imperturbable Otto Jahn: see the chapter Ordeals in Paris in his Mozart bi-
ography), just the same trivializers, corrupters, sweet-talkers, midgets . . .

tonwi lle 1
46
That is how it goes with a mans reputation, with his character, and his
merits. In the marketplace of posthumous fame, if all stood gathered
around, how many a man would blush at what he was praised for, and in
what manner!
Herder, Ccilia, 1793
Is there anyone in the world who needs to be shown that space and time
are in fact nothing in themselves; that they are utterly relative with respect
to being, action, emotions, thought process, and degree of attention, in-
ternal or external to the mind?
10
Have there never been times in your life,
you good-hearted clock-watcher of drama,
11
when hours became brief
moments, and days became hours, and conversely when hours became
[days and night watches became] years?
12
Have you never in your life en-
countered situations when your mind sometimes dwelt completely out-
side younow in this romantic chamber of your lady-love, now gazing
down on that sti corpse, or now under the crushing weight of external,
shaming necessity? Have there not been times when it soared far beyond
world and time; when it vaulted over great expanses, over whole regions
of the world, forgot everything around it, to lodge in heaven, in the mind,
in the heart of one whose inner life you now know intimately? And if this
experience is possible in your indolent, sluggish, snail-like, treelike life,
where roots enough anchor you to the dead earth, and each circle that you
crawl oers ample time for you to measure out your snails pace, can you
transport yourself mentally for one brief moment into another world, a
poetic world, just as in a dream? Have you never experienced how in your
dreams all sense of space and time vanish? And thus what inessentials,
what shadows they must be when set against the actions, the workings
of the mind? And how in this realm alone it is possible to create space,
world, and time for oneself in whatever way one wants? And if you had
{54} experienced this only once in your life, if you had woken after just
a quarter of an hour, and from the receding vestiges of your dream-
encounters you could have sworn that you had been sleeping, and dream-
ing, and enacting deeds for nights on end!then would Mohammeds
dream, as a dream, still seem even the slightest bit absurd to you? And
would it not be the rst and only duty of every genius, every poet, above
all of every dramatic poet, to carry you o to such a dream? Does it occur
to you what worlds you are mixing up if you show the poet your pocket
watch
13
or your drawing room, and ask him to teach you to dream in time
to the one or within the other?
Herder, Shakespeare, 1773

If I were Secretary of State for the Arts in German Austria, I would summon the
musicians of Vienna and say to them: Gentlemen! It has come to my notice that
many of you, discouraged by the dicult living conditions in our fatherland, are
planning to emigrate to Western countries, where no such diculties exist today.
Let me just tell you why I would advise you under present conditions against
going ahead with such plans. Above all, I beg you not to forget that our father-
land is the home of Haydn, Mozart, Schubert, the adopted home of Beethoven,
Brahms: no Saint-Germain
14
can expunge this from the book of history. These
are what made German AustriaViennathe big wide world. Is it not true that
the big wide world exists only where genius is and, by contrast, the provinces and
the small towns are the places where genius is absent? A shopping market is no
Parnassus, the stock exchange no Temple of the Muses.
15
So what does it signify
that more market traders throng together, whether under duress or of their own
free will, in New York, London, or Paris than do so here? It means that those so-
called cosmopolitan cities are nothing more than provincial towns by compari-
son with our Vienna, which has radiated out such shafts of purest genius as will
Miscellanea
47
10
Johann Gottfried Herder (1744 1803) was one of the early instigators of the Romantic move-
ment. His essay Shakespeare, published as part of the inuential manifesto On German Character
and Art (1773), puts forward two central notions: that place and time are not absolutes, but creations
of the mind; and that Shakespeare is the true heir to the dramatic poets of ancient Greece, whereas
Corneille, Racine, and Voltaire are mere imitators of them who, despite their surface brilliance and
wit, take the unities of time, place, and action to ridiculous extremes. Schenker revered Herder, refer-
ring in his diary for 1917, for example, to a Goethe, a Herder and similar great spirits (Hellmut
Federhofer, Heinrich Schenker: nach Tagebchern und Briefen, p. 334).
11
Herder alludes to an earlier remark in the essay ridiculing the obsession of the French seven-
teenth-century dramatists with the unities, when he imagines a spectator checking his watch at the
end of each scene to ensure that the action has had its properly apportioned amount of time, and later
that all the dead bodies have been checked o.
12
The words in brackets, part of Herders text, were omitted by Schenker.
13
[S]On rhythmic freedom in performance, see the Erluterungsausgabe of Op. 109, pp. 24 25.
[These comments form part of the foreword, which was omitted from the revised edition.]
14
See note 5.
15
Perhaps an allusion to the famous counterpoint treatise, Gradus ad Parnassum (1725), by Jo-
hann Joseph Fux.
not fade for millions of years.
16
None of this alters the delusion under which the
inhabitants of those cities and countries labor, which comes about simply be-
cause they have never experienced for themselves a genuinely big wide world.
The only way to get true culture over to them is for you, gentlemen, to leave
it to these small-town folk from their inated provinces and villages to make the
eort to come to our world-class city of music. Then for the rst time they would
have a real opportunity to get to know what they can never hope to attain by
themselves: the culture of our great masters on their home ground, in their own
language. Not unrelated to this, they might also come to understand why during
the war their countrymen enjoyed greater freedom at our hands then did ours at
theirs; and why no embassy buildings were destroyed here, why no compulsory
expropriations occurred, and why no lynchings took place here, unlike for ex-
ample in America. How much would be gained if we could make them realize,
here in our midst, that it is more benecent to compose a beautiful waltz, or to
dance to a beautifully composed waltz, than to live according to the slogan Make
as much money as you can, or to be forced to sing or dance to Negro melodies,
since they have not a shred of true melody in them. Just one more push, and they
might nally even see that all their democratic humbug is indispensable to them
only because they are powerless by their own resources to instill higher spiritual
values into their starving nerves.
And here is another thing for you to think about, gentlemen. The Western na-
tions are actually continuing the war against us today, but now with cowardly
economic {55} measures; they are keeping the raw materials for themselves and
fobbing us o against reasonable securities
17
with the most frugal charitable
oerings and even more frugal expressions of sympathy. Why should we Ger-
mans take our music, of which we eectively own the raw materials and the end
product, into the bosom of these nations, and receive money in return for it, only
so that they can then extort it back from us in some other form?
And one nal thing. Will you not, if you go to our enemiesand enemies of
our self-determination, of our loftier culture they all still areinevitably give the
impression of going begging to them, begging with our Mozart, Haydn, Beetho-
ven, Brahms, rather like hurdy-gurdy men [Savoyardenknaben] with their per-
forming monkeys? But is this really what you want: to demean our great masters
so shamefully? Dont tell me you expect to nd discerning listeners there, too.
Dont you believe it, gentlemen. If the democratic townsfolk of the West had pos-
sessed even a trace of cultural renement, of true-hearted interest in genius, they
would never have dared to hold us guilty toward them
18
with such brutality, men-
daciousness, and infamy, as in fact they did, and are still doing.
So let me appeal to you openly: stay here, gentlemen, and help us all endure
our harsh fate. We wonder whether the provincials of the West will not in fact
eventually nd their way out of the cultural hostility of democracy and, in des-
peration for the heart and majestic spirit of the German people, oer a sincere
apology for all acts of impotently small-minded arrogance, which merely reect
their hollow, ostentatious, get-rich-quick civilization.

The author graciously requests the readers of this pamphlet to assist him in his
search for the autograph manuscript of Beethovens Piano Sonata Op.106. Com-
munications regarding this matter should be addressed to the publisher of the Er-
luterungsausgabe: Universal Edition, Vienna.
19
tonwi lle 1
48
16
Vienna had itself been the banking and nancial center of the Austro-Hungarian Empire until
the latters collapse in 1918.
17
Advance credits totaling $30 million were given by Britain, France, and Italy, to nance the pur-
chase of food supplies, and the securities (i.e., collateral) for these credits were a lien on the salt
mines of Austria, the real estate of the City of Vienna, and other assets to be agreed on. More broadly,
the delivery of food and raw materials such as coal and lignite (much of Austrias agricultural and in-
dustrial regions having been transferred to neighboring states) by the Allies to Austria under the
Saint-Germain Treaty were subject to, among other things, the handing over of arms and munitions,
and guarantees of the religious, political, and linguistic rights and liberties of all minorities groups
within Austria.
18
Reference is presumably to the war-guilt (Kriegsschuld) clause of the Versailles treaty between
the Allies and Germany, concluded June 28, 1919. In this clause, Article 231, spearheaded by John Fos-
ter Dulles, Germany accepted responsibility for causing all the damage to which the Allied and As-
sociated Governments and their nationals have been subjected as a consequence of the war imposed
upon them by the aggression of Germany and her allies. Article 232 then recognized that German re-
sources were inadequate, and limited reparations to compensation for all damage done to the civil-
ian population . . . and to their property. Germany made strenuous eorts during the 1920s to repu-
diate the guilt clause. The Saint-Germain treaty included its own war-guilt clause and reparations
demand, but it was abandoned in 1921.
19
The autograph manuscript has never surfaced and must be presumed lost. Schenker compiled
an extensive folder of analyses and notes concerning Op. 106, the Hammerklavier Sonata (Oster
Collection, File 65), but, despite reserving an edition number for it (Universal Edition 3975), he never
completed the Erluterungsausgabe. The only published analytical material relating to the sonata is a
middleground reduction of the bass line of the fugue (Der freie Satz, Fig. 156/2).
Tonwille 2
This page intentionally left blank
The life of tone thrives in consonance and dissonance:
Consonance is the sole law of everything harmonic, vertical, and belongs to
Nature. Dissonance belongs to voice-leading, the horizontal, and consequently
is Art.
Consonance lives in the triad, dissonance in passing [im Durchgang].
From triad and passing stem all the phenomena of tonal life: the triad can be-
come a harmonic degree; the passing tone can be modied to become a neighbor
note, accented passing tone, anticipation, a dissonant syncopation, and the sev-
enth of a seventh chord.
There are no laws other than consonance and dissonance, nor are there any
other fundamental derivations. Dissonance must be understood as purely con-
tingent on consonance and thus the consonance of Nature alone must be under-
stood as the ultimate ground of all artistic possibilities in music and acknowl-
edged at the same time as the ultimate goal of all that strives in passing.
The creation of the world was accomplished with few laws. If the human
mind scarcely grasps even the tiniest element of its innitude, it at least senses
that all of creations phenomena rest clearly on transformations of just a few ele-
mental forces. In the small world of tones things are no dierent. The artist re-
veals consonance and dissonance in ever new forms, drawing ever new eects
from triad, harmonic degree, passing tone, and its derivatives.
To man it is forbidden to prove himself Natures peer and, through an auton-
omous creative act, to set something completely new and of equal rank in op-
position to her law of consonance; man himself, after all, is a mysterious trans-
formation of one of Natures fundamental laws. But if the artist is content with
newly inventing mere transformations, he obtains the reward of remaining newly
safe and secure in them for ever. Thus, new upon new, along an endless chain of
artists, the fundamental law of consonance and its group of derivations are never
ever exhausted. (From Freier Satz.)
51
Laws of the Art of Music
Gesetze der Tonkunst {Tonwille 2, p. 3}
t r a ns l at e d b y r ob e rt s na r re nb e r g
Ahistory of the art of music has yet to be written. It would have to provide an-
swers to the following questions:
When and how did the law of consonance (with the octave, fth, and third)
rst work its way into and fulll itself in successions of tones (regarded horizon-
tally), so that the tonal successions, because they expressed a triad, could be ex-
perienced as a unit? Did this occur even before the initial attempts at polyphony,
or later? How about the Urlinie around the time consonance rst secretly im-
pregnated the horizontal dimension? And, secondarily, to what extent do the
musical utterances of todays primitive peoples resemble those early tonal suc-
cessions?
After the law of consonance found fulllment in the vertical dimension in the
age of polyphony, which artists were the rst to produce an agreement between
the vertical and horizontal triad and so {4} forge a path to a horizontal (melodic)
elaboration [Auskomponierung] that was also attested by the vertical dimension?
How were elaborations of triads connected to one another? Did an Urlinie tie
them together?
When was it that triads, as the regulators of elaboration, attained their own
particular order and grew into the harmonic degrees of a system? When did
diminution, in the form of motives and ornaments, obtain its laws? How were
motives connected together at rst? And now, at this time, what was the situation
of the Urlinie, which had to bind together such a fully developed world with steps
of a second, lest the diminution of motives and ornaments wander aimlessly?
Finally, how did all these forces cause forms to arise, in the sense of those lim-
itations that are indispensable for any sort of human creative endeavor? And
now: what are the names of the artists who devised innitely many invaluable
nuts and bolts in order to leash and unleash the voices of the contrapuntal set-
ting in the service of form, variety, and an intensely personal narrative art?
All these questions would have to be answered if one wanted to nd a suit-
able basis for selecting artists and for representing their lifes work, indeed, even
their lifes destiny.
Will it ever be possible to shed so much light on the past in order to obtain
light for the future as well? (From Freier Satz.)
52
History of the Art of Music
Geschichte der Tonkunst {Tonwille 2, pp. 34}
t r a ns l at e d b y r ob e rt s na r re nb e r g
The Urlinie oers the unfurling of a basic triad, it presents tonality on hori-
zontal paths. The tonal system, too, ows into these as well, a system intended to
bring purposeful order into the world of chords through its selection of the har-
monic degrees. The mediator between the horizontal formulation of tonality pre-
sented by the Urlinie and the vertical formulation presented by the harmonic de-
grees is voice-leading.
Just as the harmonic degrees fend o chords that contradict the tending of
their arrangement towards tonality, so, too, does the Urlinie fend o diminutions
(motives and ornaments) whose peaks or main tones do not agree with this ar-
chetypal succession of tones. Thus, one sees that where the Urlinie holds sway,
the diminutions are fashioned in such a way that other diminutions with other
peaks cannot be put in their place.
Elaboration [Auskomponierung] brings to fruition a bass line that, in view of
the fact that the roots of the harmonic degrees operate in the depths of the mind,
is just as much an upper voice as the soprano with respect to the behavior of the
line, its undulating play, and its consonances and passing [dissonances]. Thus, the
setting of the outer voices [Auensatz] is to be understood as a counterpoint of two
upper voices above the harmonic degrees, a two-voice setting the quality of which
determines the worth of the composition. The Urlinie then leads to a selection of
intervals in this contrapuntal setting (and in this selection alone lies the guarantee
of the settings highest quality and most consummate synthesis), intervals that
continue to bear in themselves the law of strict counterpoint. Only through such a
selection do we then understand free compositions prolongations of the law,
which do not cancel it but rather validate it in freedom and newness. For example,
if the intervals selected deviate in so many passages from those manifested by the
diminutions, then it happens that often, on account of the selected intervals, the
consecutive fths and octaves presented by the counterpoint of the diminution are
not really consecutives at all. Thus our masters could, while observing Urlinie, har-
monic degree, and interval selection, develop a freedom in voice-leading, the im-
mensity of which {5} was until now inconceivable, because the law of strict coun-
terpoint was neither grasped in its profundity nor foreseen in such prolongations.
And so it came to be that our young people, so dierent of late, merely seeming to
live among us, were able to hit upon the idea of robbing voice-leading of its free-
dom with all the idle democratic boasting proper to a giant pygmy, as if they had
not already possessed the highest freedom for the longest time, a freedom still fully
uncomprehended by them; and in fact they succeeded in destroying that long-
standing freedom because in their ignorance they declared themselves superior to
the law. Yet what is freedom if not the radiance of a laws foundation?
The fact that the harmonic degree and the selection of intervals come from
the Urlinie and go into it constitutes the miracle of circularity.
Diminution relates to the Urlinie as esh in the bloom of life relates to a
mans skeleton. Indeed, though the form and content of the esh impress us di-
rectly, it is the secret of the skeleton that holds everything together. Goethe ex-
pressed it as follows:
1
Typus Type
Es ist nichts in der Haut There is naught in the skin
Was nicht im Knochen ist. That is not in the bone.
Vor schlechtem Gebilde jedem graut, Every man shudders at a wretched creature,
Das ein Augenschmerz ihm ist. That causes his eyes to suer.
Was freut denn jeden? Blhen zu sehn What, then, pleases every man? To see owering
Das von innen schon gut gestaltet; That is already well formed from within;
Auen mags in Gltte, mag in Farben Though its outside may turn glossy or colored,
gehn,
Es ist ihm schon voran gewaltet. It already holds him in its sway.
53
Yet Another Word on the Urlinie
Noch ein Wort zur Urlinie {Tonwille 2, pp. 4 6}
t r a ns l at e d b y r ob e rt s na r re nb e r g
1
This poem appeared in a set entitled Kunst in Goethes Sammlung von 1827. The translation is
mine. The orthography and punctuation have been emended in accord with Johann Wolfgang Goethe:
Gedichte, 18001832, part 1, vol. 2, p. 515, ed. Karl Eibl (Frankfurt: Deutsche Klassiker Verlag, 1988).
It suces to know from history only that diminution was active for centuries
in the decoration of simple successions of tones, in order to be astonished at the
triing compass of the ordinary imagination, which now, by contrast, does not
nd its way from the diminutions of our masters back to a simple succession of
tones. Caccini, who opposed the excesses of ornamental practice around 1600
and argued on behalf of so-called monody, thought as follows: I have thus en-
deavored to express the meaning of the verbal text and, on the other hand, to
conceal contrapuntal artices.
2
But this only proves that he misunderstood his
own creation. For, in the rst place, monody, too, was the diminution of a simple
tonal succession, even if formed dierently than the ornament; and, in the sec-
ond place, contrapuntal artices indeed vanished, but not counterpoint, which
must appear forthwith whenever two voices enter into a relationship with one
another. It is precisely counterpoint, after all, that testies decisively about the
intervallic span of the Urlinie as well as about diminution.
The Urlinie leads directly to synthesis of the whole. It is synthesis. Since it
oers grounds for deciding upon harmonic degree and form in doubtful cases, it
makes it possible, above all, to get proper insight into synthesis.
Only such a synthesis generated from an Urlinie has the redolence of a true
melody. And this is melody of the whole, the sole endless melody. In synthesis,
melody is constituted in a way that is quite dierent from those melodies that one
carries home from opera houses in ones vest pocket, so to speak, or those that
composers store away in their valises and desks in order to use them in a sym-
phony movement, quartet, or the like, as opportunity arises; it is constituted
quite dierently than the melodies that program musicians are nally obliged to
proer as soon as they fear {6} becoming a burden to the listener and his uncul-
tivated impulses; and it is also constituted quite dierently than the leitmotifs of
music dramas or the tonal images of musical portraiture, from whose mouths, as
one often sees on the pictures of primitives, there seem to utter volumes of say-
ings: I am so and so, I am this and that . . .
The invention of synthesis from the Urlinie and the melody of the whole [aus
Urlinie und Gesamtmelodie] is German, German to the corehistorically consid-
ered, a victory over short-nerved Italian melody incapable of widely spaced
goalsand generates from the depth and breadth of the German spirit. The full-
ness of its mysteries and original physiognomy is so great that no one can succeed
in revealing it in its entirety. For this reason, those who would wish that the ulti-
mate mysteries of music be protected, so that they continue to exist for a human-
ity that loves the puzzle more than the solution, need have no fear whatsoever.
The synthesis of our masters belongs to the aristocracy of genius, it is inte-
grative, and it makes genuinely great what is seemingly small. And once the Ger-
man spirit had received the blessing of such a miracle from its great masters, it is
right and proper to designate as un-German a composition tted together in
such a way that purely individual moments are exaggerated and distended like
aphorisms and leitmotifs. Eusion in one moment causes accidity in the next
moment, the content of which (tonal wallpaper and molding, as it were) con-
trasts all the more strongly the more beautiful and ecstatic the preceding eusion.
Such a procedure is democratic, the more grandiloquent the part, the more im-
potent the whole, senselessly fragmented, disintegrative, and it makes genuinely
small what is seemingly great. The greater the compass of the work, the more it
resembles a hydra whose heads can grow but can also be cut o, or a sentence
having several clauses that contradict one another.
But, of course, how dicult it is to be German along with our great German
masters! The musician has not even once seen his way into their counterpoint,
their form, or their melody, because he touches synthesis using only trivial con-
cepts of melody. And anyone who has his sights set upon metaphysics and seeks
it in rhythm, melody, and God knows what else, will pass deay by the Urlinie;
and yet the Urlinie is the quintessence of all metaphysics. And then there is the
philistine! If you say to him, Generation upon generation passes away, but the
tonal line continues to live as on the rst day, he does not comprehend it. And if
you approach him and say, Capital is self-acting, and so is the tonal line, he does
not grasp it. He knows only the one question: Where is all that?It is there in
the noteheads, not in your heads!
tonwi lle 2
54
2
Schenker is here paraphrasing, rather than directly quoting, a passage from the celebrated Pref-
ace to Le nuove musiche of 1602 by the Florence-based singer and composer Giulio Caccini (15511618):
Ne madrigali come nelle arie ho sempre procurata limitazione dei concetti delle parole, ricer-
cando quelle corde pi, e meno aectuose, secondo i sentimenti di esse, e che particolarmenti
havessero grazia, havendo ascosto in esse quanto piu ho potuto larte del contrappunto.
In madrigals as in arias I have always achieved the imitation of the ideas of the words,
seeking out those notes that are more or less expressive, according to the sentiments of the
words. So that they would have especial grace, I concealed as much of the art of counter-
point as I could.
The English translation, by Margaret Murata, is taken from Source Readings in Music History, ed.
Oliver Strunk, revised by Leo Treitler (New York: Norton, 1998), p. 609. A facsimile of Le nuove mu-
siche was published by Broude Brothers (New York, 1973).
This sonata was composed by Mozart at the age of twenty-two in Paris in 1778.
May I be granted the privilege of revealing the full wonder of this work for the el-
evation of the human spirit!
First Movement (Allegro maestoso)
The sonata form of the rst movement expresses itself as follows:
First Subject
antecedent bars 18
consequent and modulation bars 922
Second Subject bars 2344
(Closing Subject) bars 4549
Development bars 5079
Recapitulation bars 80
Bars 18. A sixteenth-note appoggiatura d
2
: and not only is the rst tone of the
Urlinie, e
2
, conceived but, in a true creatio ex nihilo, the entire rst movement! Al-
ready the rst creative breath projects the special features of this new musical or-
ganism, determining the shape and content of the whole as well as the parts. In
the antecedent, the Urlinie (see the graph, p. 56) aims to project the fourth e
2
b
1
and, with the support of the fundamental harmonies, lead to a half cadence; the
generative principle of the appoggiatura then becomes operative, propelling the
inner voice in bars 14 and then the Urlinie from bar 5, and nally also the bass
in bars 68 to a series of waves of ascending steps. The ear is now drawn to the
neighbor notes, which the composer promotes, taking advantage of the entire
circle of fundamental harmonies, by giving both the main and neighboring notes
their own harmonies and so increasing the weight of the latter. Thus, while the
Urlinie could have taken the shortest path to b
1
through d
2
and c
2
, it actually as-
cends to f
2
in bar 6, so that it may rst descend from this tone, its path thus pro-
jected through a diminished fth. Heard in relation to the half cadence in bar 8,
the surplus tone, f
2
, functions as a suspension to e
2
and, at the same time, as a deep
sigh. One cannot suciently admire the diminution in bars 14, which inter-
weaves the Urlinie so beautifully with the inner voices and presents the web as an
independent motive. If one were unaware of its provenance, one would be com-
pelled to believe that the diminished fth d
2
in bars 2 and 4 ascends to e
2
; but this
is not the case. In bars 58, the counterpoint is threatened by bare consecutive
fths:
edcb
, which are avoided by the interpolation of neighbor notes and their
harmonies, so that the voice-leading participates in its way in showing the Urlinie
the path from f
2
. {8}
Bars 9. The consequent begins with the initial bars of the antecedent. Again, the
Urlinie rises up to f
2
(bar 14) before descending to b
1
(bar 16); since there has been
a modulation to C major, the diminished fth f
2
b
1
is now reinterpreted as an
elaboration of VII, which stands for V. The identical sound of the two diminished
fths, in the antecedent and consequent, is purposefully exploited by the dier-
ence in diatonic harmony: the contrast of their tonal meaning elevates them
above the status of mere repetition. For even though repetition without a change
of harmony would bestow upon the second fth-progression a certain emphasis,
the emphasis created by the change of harmony is all the greater. From this it be-
comes clear that the modulation is not a vacuous formal duty, but is derived in
the most organic way, spirit from spirit [Geist vom Geiste], from the antecedent
phrase. And if this requires yet another justication than that provided by the Ur-
linie, we can consider the diminution. Beginning in bar 12, it takes on a form so
dierent from the antecedent that, even on account of this new ideaand all the
more so for its incomparable boldnesswe should banish from our heads the
agf e
55
Mozarts Sonata in A Minor, K. 310
Mozart: Sonate A-Moll (Kchel-Verzeichnis Nr. 310) {Tonwille 2, pp. 724}
t r a ns l at e d b y t i mot hy j ac k s on
notion that Mozart handled the modulation in a routine fashion. The graph of
the Urlinie (bars 1112) shows that the lower of the inner voices ascends to b
,
1
,
which is transformed into an upper voice (which ascends beyond the Urlinie tone
[e
2
] to the high b
,
2
), passing through a
2
and g
2
(bar 13) to f
2
(bar 14). But since the
e
2
of the Urlinie also strives toward this tone, that progression of the inner voice
signies nothing more than the intention of the diminution to make a detour. Our
astonishment increases when we understand the bass in bar 11 as the unfolding of
a fth-progression, which provides harmonic support to this detour (see Freier
Satz).
1
As is often the case with fth progressions, the midpoint of the path is
emphasized by the appropriate harmony (the root F, between A and D), and if
this is accompanied, as it is here, by a corresponding chromatic inection in the
preceding auxiliary harmony to make a dominant chordthe basic model for
this kind of voice-leading is simply the 56exchange, a
5
g
6
f
5
e
6
d
5
!, then
the root F reinforces the impression of an independent harmony, namely IV.
(Generally, in such cases theorists and dilettantes alike go so far as to call this a
[modulation to the] key of F major.) To this is added the play of suspensions in
the inner voice and the Urlinie; in short, there is motion and life in every part of
this bar. Everything in the modulation, however, is connected to the single inten-
tion of the Urlinie to traverse a fth-progression. That the diminution in bars 10
11 stems not from bars 12 but rather from bars 34, and leads to an even richer
gure in bar 11, bespeaks the iron will propelling the diminution as a whole (this
was also a deep-seated feature of Chopins style). In bar 16, the dominant is at-
tained; above its root the leading tone, in accordance with the fundamental mo-
tive of this piece, strives toward its upper neighbor (!), several times and with in-
creasing animation. In this way, even this spiritually conceived little gure refutes
all those (including, for example, Wagner) who perceive the half cadence as an
empty technique of postponement.
tonwi lle 2
56
1
The combination of two or more linear progressions, of which this example illustrates a variant
form, is discussed and illustrated in Der freie Satz, 22129.
Bars 23. To the diminished fth of the modulation, the Urlinie of the second
group replies with an octave progression, c
3
c
2
, as an elaboration of the funda-
mental harmony of the C major diatonicism, so that the two parts of the Urlinie
are related to each other as VI. The octave-progression is subdivided into two
segments: c
3
e
2
(bar 31, incomplete perfect cadence) and a
2
c
2
(bar 35). The c
3
in
bars 2327, unaected by the cadential progression and in response to the e
2
sus-
tained in bars 15, serves as the starting point for the octave-progression; the b
2
in bar 25 functions merely as a neighbor note. In the sixteenth-note diminution,
the initial {9} sixteenth-note appoggiatura from bar 1 can still be heard uttering
distinctly (b
2
c
3
in bar 23, e
2
f
2
in bar 24, a
1
b
1
in bar 25). The diminution is ex-
pressly modied according to the change of harmony or Urlinie segment (bars
2327, 2829, 3031, etc.), so that it not only achieves fruitful diversity but also
serves the harmony and the Urlinie. What an important contribution to synthe-
sis! The graph of the Urlinie indicates the details of the voice-leading.
In bar 35, the initial sixteenth rest stands for the concluding note, c
2
, while the
octave-progression with c
3
at its apex is repeated immediately from the second
sixteenth. This time the line progresses through its segment more quickly, so that
there is space for repetitions. The abbreviated form of the summations, com-
bined with the bustling repetition, creates an eect that suggests soothing en-
couragement and consolation. In bar 40, within the initial segment of the repeti-
tion of the octave progression, an inversion of the voices is introduced; this is
nevertheless rendered less transparent in bars 4244 since the bass requires three
octaves to project the succession of three tones.
2
The second segment, by con-
trast, returns to the upper voice. Here, too, if one follows the the alternation of
gures and registers, one can only admire the purposefulness of all paths and
connections. The counterpoint in the upper voice in bars 4243 is derived from
the rhythm of bars 1 and 3, which becomes clearer in bars 45. While the line in
these nal bars seeks the rising leading note, b
1
, in order to produce a more pow-
erful closefor this reason I recommend calling it a closing subjectthe dotted
rhythm eectively prepares the repeat of the exposition, or the development.
Bars 50. At the beginning of the development, the motive of bars 12 enters, but
in C major. Now the lowest voice is set in motion, c
1
d
,
1
(m. 53), which gives the
diminution the occasion to follow the idea of I
, 7
, as if the path of the harmony
were to lead to IV. In bar 53, the b
,
1
overshoots the g
2
of the Urlinie and ascends
to b
,
2
; in bar 55, the neighbor-note D
,
is transformed into C

and in bar 57 b
,
into
a

, thereby achieving the chord of

IV in E minor, which leads to V as a

is drawn
up to b. Now the secret is revealed: g
2
in the Urlinie wants to proceed at the out-
set to a

, as a fundamentally predestined upper neighbor, but hesitates longer

than did the e
2
in bars 15 and the c
3
in bars 2327; and this hesitation, like the
illusion of b
,
2
, turns into a wonderful adventure, which heightens the suspense of
the narration. Only a complete consciousness of the larger path could permit the
young genius to place such an artful notation, namely the disguising of an aug-
mented second as a third, and the enharmonic transformation in the service of
the Urlinie. Nothing is actually changed by the fact that the a

(as an augmented
second) nally ascends.
With the arrival on b, the conventional descending direction of the Urlinie as-
serts itself. We see this in bars 58, and with completely altered diminution, in
which the material of bars 5 are transformed; see the graph of the Urlinie. In a
strettolike manner, the Urlinie motive enters, always striving upward; also, there is
a marked upward thrust in the lower inner voice, while the higher inner voice de-
votes itself to suspensions. (At the same time, this voice-leading helps to avoid
consecutive fths.) The way in which the music modulates back to A minor is
shown by the graph of the Urlinie. From bar 70 on, the high register is gradually
drawn back. The following sketch may further clarify the path of the development:
{10} As can be seen, the rising sixths in the upper voice in bars 7072 are essen-
tially inner thirds and passing tones that leap exactly as those in the bass, with
which they form a series of thirds. In bar 73, an e
2
on the downbeat would have
resulted in consecutive fths; therefore this tone appears a quarter-note later,
where it forms a sixth with the bass, which has in the meantime moved on.
Bars 80. The reprise begins in bar 80. Its most prominent feature can be seen in
bars 8897: an unusually bold elaboration of the tonic, whereby consecutive oc-
taves in the outer voices are avoided by the interpolation of chromatically in-
57
2
That is, the succession represented by e
1
in bar 42, d in bar 43 and E in bar 44, the last of these
notes suggesting a low C.
Mozarts Sonata in A Minor, K. 310
ected tenths in bars 89 and 91. One can only marvel at how willingly the pri-
mary motive of bars 12 serves this elaboration; although the motive carries so
much weight, there are no true [intervening] harmonies, let alone modulations.
What beautiful detours are also created by the diminution in bars 9596! In
bar 95, the b
1
on the downbeat is to be understood as an accented passing tone
within IV
ba
6 5
.
Second Movement (Andante cantabile)
The Andante has a four-part form:
A
1
bars 114
Modulation bar 14
B
1
bars 1531
Retransition bars 3253
A
2
bars 54 67
B
2
bars 6886
Bars 1. The rst subject has an antecedent and a consequent phrase: bars 14,
58. The melodic line in the antecedent falls from c
2
e
1
(half cadence), and the
consequent projects the fth-progression c
2
f
1
as a response (full cadence). Both
melodic lines subdivide into two segments, a division which is underscored by
the harmonic progression. Always beginning with the third quarter, each segment
comprises six quarters and is clearly delineated by the harmonic progression:
a consistency that serves both synthesis and beauty. The second segment of the
melodic line of the consequent (bar 6) begins essentially with b
,
1
(IV), for which
d
2
acts as a substitute. At rst, b
,
1
seems to be merely a neighbor note within the
fth-progression; however, the higher third is placed on top in order to attenuate
the line and bestow upon it greater emphasis, insofar as the d
2
surpasses the ini-
tial tone of the rst segment. All of this is the case, in spite of the fact that the
strong harmonic progression that serves the form gives the illusion that d
2
is an
important tone of the Urlinie (see the graph below).
tonwi lle 2
58
{11} The arpeggiation of the upbeat quarter note and the short appoggiatura
in bar 1 establish the rst tone of the Urlinie; concomitantly, the lowest tone of
the arpeggiation, f
1
, announces the root, which does not enter until the rst quar-
ter note of the bass. Just as the upbeat arpeggio inuences the path of the bass in
the rst full bar, so it contains a treasure trove of mysterious connections, which
are of much greater value to the synthesis than the thematic or motivic connec-
tions that are generally available to composers.
Bars 8. In bar 8, the fth-progression attains its concluding tone, but at the same
time the bass initiates a new accompaniment, transforming the metrically weak
bar into a strong one. Through this kind of artistic subtlety, the parts are joined
together more tightly and the total synthesis is greatly improved. The melodic line
is the same as that of the antecedent, only lying an octave higher and repeating the
rst segment with slightly varied rhythm. It would not have been possible for the
second segment, a
2
e
2
, also to have been presented twice, because B
1
begins im-
mediately thereafter with the same succession.
3
The diminution becomes increas-
ingly richer, yet it is always governed by the simple arpeggio of the initial upbeat.
All of these modications serve to create the impression of this group of bars as a
new idea. But if the new section remains in the key of the rst subject and also
shares the same Urlinie motive, that shows that the two belong together as sub-
sections of the same subject. On the other hand, one should not overlook the con-
nection between, on the one hand, the impetus that the bass requires to assert its
regular meter against the irregular meter of the Urlinie and, on the other, the
modulation in bar 14: evidently, it is the same impetus in a new guise, which even-
tually triumphs in B
1
, where the Urlinie accommodates itself to the bass. What se-
crets are concealed in the organically creative mental powers of the genius!
Bars 15. The modulation is realized in the simplest way, by reinterpreting the V
of F major as I in C major; all that is missing is decisive conrmation, since a fur-
ther cadence establishing the new key has not been added. This is why Mozart
xes the new key in bars 1518 right at the beginning of B
1
by twice repeating V
I, before moving on to a further, more emphatic harmonic progression. This also
explains why the Urlinie, in contrast to that in A
1
, proceeds through its fth-
progression g
2
c
2
without subdivision, and at the outset likewise presents the rst
two tones, g
2
f
2
, twice. Not until g
2
is introduced for the third time, in bar 19, does
the Urlinie progress denitively to the concluding tone (see the graph of the Ur-
linie). Here, then, it is the varied realization of the Urlinie that promotes synthe-
sis at a higher level by contrast.
The diminution also builds a bridge to B
2
; compare the third quarter in bar
13 and the response to this made by the third quarter in bars 15 and 16. The sev-
enth of the dominant in bars 16 and 18, the very f
2
of the Urlinie, resolves to E in
the bass in bars 17 and 19. In bars 19, the diminution, too, is altered to conform
to the third entry of the Urlinie; it is able to cross over the fth-progression in
such a way as though it almost were able to deceive it. To compensate for the lack
of subdivision in the fth-progression, the conclusion is reinforced by means of
repetition of the Urlinie tones, f
2
to c
2
in bars 24 25 and e
2
to c
2
in bars 2729.
From the concluding tone c
1
in bar 22here, too, the bars have been metrically
reinterpreted (8 1)the ascending progression c
2
d
2
e
2
leads to the f
2
of bar
24, which was prepared by the same progression in bar 19. To serve of this new
group of bars, and also the rhythmic augmentation,
4
yet a new diminution is in-
troduced: three downward leaps of a third lead from c
2
up to d
2
, and an especially
artful passing motion in bar 23, passing through two harmonies [IIV], leading
from d
2
to e
2
, as shown in Fig. 2:
5
{12} Observe, in this transitional progression, the immediate imitation of the so-
prano by the bass (bracket 1); then the use of c
2
in the inner voice to avoid the
consecutive fths
g
2
a
2
c
2
d
2 (bracket 2); and nally the elaboration of the dominant
(bracket 3). Preserving the same diminution in bar 25 as in bar 22 brings to the
fore the fact that the group of bars 2529 contributes to the form in the same way
Mozarts Sonata in A Minor, K. 310
59
3
That is, at the start of B
1
the tones of the Urlinie are the same as the preceding segment, g
2
f
2

e
3
, but without the initial a
2
.
4
Schenker is referring to the ascent c
2
d
2
e
2
in bars 2224, which progresses in dotted half notes,
that is, at one-third the speed of the ascent in bar 19.
5
Fig. 2, which reproduces the score, shows e
3
as the goal; but the graph of the Urlinie shows the
conceptual step motion, which leads to e
2
.
as the preceding bars 2125. (That the diminution in bar 26 diers from that in
bar 23 does not change anything in this respect.) In bar 27, the diminution tem-
porarily covers the Urlinie tone e
2
, and its continuation, with g
2
. In bars 2931, the
ascending leading tone functions more as a neighbor note than a true Urlinie
tone, on account of varied diminution.
Bars 32. Two drawn-out summations of the previous fth-progression, still in
C major, initiate the modulation back to F. The diminution changes in the upper
voice, and also in the left hand; notice especially the chordal quality of the left
hand and the depth of the register (see, however, the discussion of the literature!).
Only with the concluding tone of the second fth-progression, in bar 37, does the
real retransition begin. Here the tension of the passing motions grows to colossal
proportions, and the artistry with which the young master calls forth so much
power from the harmony must inspire the greatest admiration. The following
sketch claries the path of the retransition:
The ground plan is shown at a); according to it, c
2
should rise through c
2
to d
2
,
so that this tone can initiate the descending fth-progression d
2
g
1
as a prepara-
tion for the fth-progression c
2
f
1
in A
2
. In this shortest of paths, the modulation
to D minor is already pregured. The harmonic progression at b) shows the rein-
terpretation of the I in C major as VII in D minor (minor in a strictly Aeolian
sense: see Harmonielehre, pp. 59/pp. 45 ), from which the V with the raised
leading tone follows. The harmonic succession

VIIV

3
I reects {13} in a deeper
sense C
5
C
6
D
5
(VIIVI); see Freier Satz.
6
At a) is shown the simplest
lling-in with passing tones; at c) the much more developed version in which
corresponding multiple passing motions are employed in both the upper and
lower melodic lines (using steps or leaps).
Finally, [Fig. 3c] shows the full measure Mozarts consummate command of
the diminution, which claries the transitions and, of course, also conceals them
within a single transitional idea. Thus, we see how, in bars 37, the sextuplet
arpeggiations in the bass (in the great octave: see, however, the discussion of the
literature!) invite the right hand to a diminution in arpeggios, that link the one-
and two-line octaves in such an artful way, each time in groups of two bars (see
the graph of the Urlinie). The harmonic progression in bars 43 is served by the
inversion of the arpeggio in the bass; since they are in the low register, these now
give the impression of being fundamental harmonic, while in truth they are sim-
ply leaping passing tones. In bars 4849, the passing tone e
,
2
in the upper line,
like the raised third F

in the bass, mark the process of tonicization I

IV in G
minor. It is the very chord built on G that is eventually reinterpreted as II in F
major. At this point, the fth-progression d
2
g
1
is set in motion, but already on
the rm ground of F major. Its tones are presented more quickly than those of
the transitional harmonies in bars 3749, and Mozart, as if in passing, lets a still
more accelerated imitation of the fth-progression unfold in the second and
third quarters of bar 50, as a simultaneous presentation and summation. What a
wonderful progression! In bars 5153, the octave c
2
is sought as a replacement for
the fth g
1
.
Bars 51. A
2
repeats A
1
exactly in bars 54 61, and also gives the basic idea in bars
6167, except that the path of the bass is changed. Here is its origin:
Bars 68. Compared with B
1
, B
2
is notable for the changes in bars 7071, whose
purpose is to tonicize the IV, and for an expansion in bars 72 when compared
with bars 2022; nally, in bar 78, a change is made in the transitional harmonies.
tonwi lle 2
60
6
An early draft of Der freie Satz includes several sections that concern progressions from VII to I
and VII as a substitute for V (Oster Collection, le 51, items 764 68).
Third Movement (Presto)
Altogether one of the most individual and intense pieces in the entire musical lit-
erature. In contrast to the rst part in A minor, bars 1142, the middle part is con-
ceived as a sort of trio in A major with the character of a musette, bars 14374,
while the repetition of the rst part serves as a third part. The rst part is itself in
two sections: it modulates from A minor through C major (bars 20[21]55) to the
key of the dominant, E minor (bars 5687), and, after a short retransition (bars
87106), brings back the primary idea in the main key with a stronger conclusion.
Bars 1. The Urlinie (p. 62) exhibits an unusual feature: moving in a descending
direction, which in A minor must follow the path of the fth-progression e
2
a
1
,
it is not initiated from the fth, e
2
, but rather from the middle, with c
2
, growing
only in the course of events to reach d
2
(bar 7) and e
2
(bar 17). {14} In addition, the
important segment of the Urlinie is delayed until the conclusion of the individual
group of bars, which each time also transmits the cadential harmonies in a deci-
sive manner. In this way a wonderful tension is created, both within the individ-
ual phrases as well as within the whole, which is intensied especially in those
groups where the beginning and conclusion of the phrase sound the same,
7
as for
example in the rst group, bars 1 and 4; in the second group, bars 5 and 7; in the
sixth group, bars 2122 and 27, etc. For, viewed from the end of the group, we ex-
perience its beginning more as a rst inhalation [Anhauch] of the line than as the
line itself; then, it is as if inhalation and melodic line expressed an unbroken sob.
The principal theme, bars 120, is composed of an antecedent and conse-
quent, delineated by the half cadence in bar 8, through the deceptive cadence and
complete full cadence in bars 16 and 20. The rst group of bars, 14, presents the
core musical idea in its purest and simplest form. In the second group, bars 58,
the Urlinie grows toward d
2
, for which it requires two bars, 7 and 8. It would have
been possible to support d
2
with IV and move from it directly to V: Mozart, how-
ever, proceeds otherwise, by interpolating a I beneath c
2
and thereby creating a
neighbor-note eect:

d
2
c
2
IVI
. The path from IV to I is realized through passing tones
[bars 57], based on the exchange of upper and lower voices: where does the IV
end, and where does the I begin? (Concerning this kind of voice-leading, see the
section on harmonic rhythm [Stufenrhythmus] in Freier Satz.
8
The third group
is a repetition of the rst, insofar as it introduces the consequent. In the fourth
group, the Urlinie already descends to the concluding tone, which, however, is
initially caught up within a deceptive cadence. The increased number of tones
compels the addition of three bars to accommodate the Urlinie, bars 14 16. If the
tones of the Urlinie are to be brought to a close, then the bars which provide the
model (bars 5 and 6) must be reversed; however, d
2
is still supported by IV and c
2
by I. The fth and concluding group in the main theme nally presents the com-
plete fth-progression e
2
a
1
. In it, as in the preceding phrase, f
2
is supported
by IV, so that the neighbor-note eect,

f
2
e
2
IVI
, is also reproduced. How artfully in
bar 18 Mozart transforms an inner voice into an upper voice, so as to ensure that
e
2
sounds through this bar! A rising eighth-note gesture leads from the fourth to
the fth group; its further transformation serves to prepare that which is com-
ing. Thus, in bar 20, the use of c
2
(instead of c
2
) announces the modulation to
C major.
Bars 21. A simple modulation, achieved by harmonic reinterpretation, leads to
C major. The rst group in the new key, bars 2128, immediately reveals itself,
although with varied diminution, to be simply a repetition of the phrase in bars
58, apart from the interpolation of two new bars, 2526. Even the next groups,
bars 2932 and 3336, are simply repetitions, namely of groups of bars 14 and
58 (with only slightly changed diminution and modal mixture in bars 2932).
Thus, in the new key, there is a change neither in the material nor in the way it
is treated. In fact, at rst glance, the graph shows how the Urlinie carries over
its original growth pattern into the new key; in its unfolding, it is required to
reach ever higher. Comparing bars 4, 78, 14 16, 1720, 2728, 32, 36, 4244,
5051, 54 55, 6263, 67, 71, 7779, 8587, etc., it becomes fundamentally clear
why, in this piece, Mozart had to employ a three-part song form for the whole
and, at a lower level, {15} renounces the model of antecedent plus consequent, so
as always to present the same materialto be sure, with some variation in the
Mozarts Sonata in A Minor, K. 310
61
7
Deren Anfang und Ende zusammenklingen: in Schenkers exemplication the upper voice of the
bars in question are represented by the same notes in the graph of the Urlinie: c
2
b
1
in bars 1 and 4,
d
2
c
2
in bars 5 and 7, and so on.
8
In neither the early draft (in the Oster Collection) nor the nal form of Der freie Satz is there a
section specically concerned with harmonic rhythm. However, the type of harmonic elaboration
found in bars 58 was a favorite of Schenkers, appearing in the Elucidations, Fig. 4c, published in
Tonwille 810, and in the analysis of the rst-movement theme of Beethovens Piano Sonata in A
,
,
Op. 26 (see Der freie Satz, especially Fig. 56/1).
62
diminutionsimply by changing tonality and register. This is actually what vi-
talizes the music, namely that one and the same power gains for the whole a form
that is eternally true.
In contrast to bars 58, the group of bars 3336 reaches a full close in bar 36.
This is not only a response to the dominant in bar 28, but a crucial premise for
the half cadences in bars 5051 and 54 55, which occur at the end of the inter-
mediate section in the key of C major.
The group of bars 3744 exhibits the special feature that its initial bars, 37
38, are no longer in agreement with its concluding bars, nor do they present a
tone of the Urlinie either by foreshadowing [Vorerrinerung] or by substitution.
An adumbration occurs rather within the progression and not until bar 39, with
the tone f
2
, although it is foreign to the prevailing harmony. This change becomes
intelligible on account of a second special feature, namely that the true Urlinie
tone f
2
, which enters later in bar 42, is approached by the line rising from c
2
to
f
2
, which ultimately is to be derived from the above-mentioned slight changes in
the two preceding phrases; see the small slurs in the graph of the Urlinie in bars
3031, 34 35. The chromaticism introduced by the c
2
apparently must come
from the c
3
at the highpoint of the phrase, so that we discern the underlying sense
as follows:
Thus the original eect of inhalation [Anhauchwirkung] in bars 1, 5, 13, 2122, etc.
seems to be exchanged for another. However one regards the rising line, whose
presence might well lead one to speak of the eect of a pause [in the Urlinie], and
however one regards the foreshadowing f
2
in bar 39, it remains incontrovertible
that the tones of the Urlinie are presented at ends of groups, as in the groups in
the A minor section, which nally leads to a result that is related to the inhalation
eect. But what artistry in the transformation! This transformation is preserved
in the following groups, except that in bars 5255 and 5663 the starting point c
2
before the c
2
has been stripped away, since it is self-evident after having been
made clear in the two preceding groups.
In the group comprising bars 5663, we discover the linear ascent [Anstieg]
[of bars 3744] in enlarged form, which is associated with a chromatic modula-
tion to E minor, and also an interpolation of two bars, 6061, whose descending
scale is likewise directed toward f
2
; this note could have come directly from e
2
in bar 59. Beneath the chromatic modulation and diminution of bars 5661 lies
hiddenif c
2
is supplied at the beginning of the ascending linethe progression
through an augmented fourth, which is thus capable of suggesting a modulation
(through reinterpretation):
{16} This group [bars 5663] has the half cadence in common with the group that
modulated to C major, bars 2128. Then follow four groups that model them-
selves on the C major groups, but with one important distinction, namely, the full
cadences [on E] in bars 7779 and 8587, which again correspond to the full ca-
dence in the A minor section. This demonstrates the greater signicance of E
minor compared to C major: if the latter represents merely a transitional path,
the former is the denitive goal. Other transformations, for example the clearly
proled bass line in the groups comprising bars 64 67 and 6871, may be easily
discerned.
Bars 87. Raising the third of the tonic E minor triad leads back to A minor; the
tonic is now sought (in bar 95), and for this reason the dominant (in bar 99) ap-
pears even further reinforced. The entire cycle of fths [Stufenleiter] in bars 87
95 may be derived from the following voice-leading:
Leaping passing tones are inserted into the fth-progression of the bass in bars
9598.
Bars 107. The repetition of the main theme runs parallel to bars 118. The group
of bars 12326 has the purpose of reinforcing the seventh of the dominant, as
a compelling harbinger of the concluding phrases, which herald the close. The
group of bars 12734 nally provides the fth-progression (with the additional f
2
);
Mozarts Sonata in A Minor, K. 310
63
but how much more emphatically than in bars 17 is the rhythmic organization
of the harmonies, and especially that of the tonic in the thirty-second bar!
9
Bars 143. All the more unaectedly does the short interlude in A major project
its own fth-progression, e
2
a
1
, in two segments. It receives a response, in E
major (to which the section modulates), also with a fth-progression b
1
e
1
, bars
15558. Also to be noted is that the IV in bar 144 appears over the tonic pedal-
point, and that b
1
in the inner voice functions as an accented passing note
which was unavoidable in the succession of lower thirds.
Bars 159. The retransition is governed by a fth-progression that is unfurled
through two fourth-progressions. The harmonic motion supporting the initial
fourth-progression is related to that technique of tonicization that requires two
preparatory chords ( IIVI; see Harmonielehre, p. 346, Table XIII);
10
the dif-
ference here is that the e
2
of the Urlinie is not placed above the fundamental C
5
,
as if the harmony were operating, as it were, in B minor: . It is to be
understood that this process of tonicization is a reection of that which follows
in bars 16366, which unequivocally projects the harmonic progression A major:
IIVI. The renement of the diminution is delightful: using just the passing d
2
in bar 160 and the passing c
2
in bar 164, it conrms the move to B minor (the goal
of the tonicization process) and also suggests a modal inection of A major by A
minor.
Bars 175. In the reprise, the organization of the groups comprising bars 2036
and 20710 is especially noteworthy; in particular, the way the Urlinie is projected
(see the graph) signies a new transformation, compared to the groups of bars
164 67 and 16871. Concerning all of above changes, and the nal cadences, I
refer the reader again to the graph of the Urlinie. {17}

It is time to summarize. The work of the youthful master conceals within itself
secret connections that are somehow related to and comparable with the nal,
unfathomable mysteries of our circulatory system, which nourishes and sustains
the whole body. What is understood as so-called thematic developmente.g.
motivic variation, inversion, augmentation, and similar transformations, which
are on the surface and perceived by every listenermost certainly does not apply
to the fundamentals that have been brought to light here for the rst time, al-
though incompletely, given the limitations of concepts and words. Furthermore,
we perceive how all of the parts of the melodic line in the large, in its direction
and inner movement, in repetition of smaller formal and tonal units, etc., stip-
ulate each other, so that the power and blessing of the organic streams through
all of its veins. Motive and diminution, sprouting from the line, color the seg-
ments of the Urlinie, the individual harmonies and the modulations, and set the
parts against each other so as to bind the whole more tightly. A further contrib-
utor to synthesis, in the domain of rhythm, is the technique of reinterpretation
of bars, the play of motives against the underlying meter; in the domain of voice-
leading, artistry, and beauty in the outer-voice counterpoint, and this indeed in
the counterpoint of the Urlinie as much as in the diminution, and especially the
long, artful transitional sections. And in each and everything the richest diversity,
testifying to the innity of organic life.
This alone is synthesis, this alone is ingenious, classical, and Germanfun-
damentally German!
As if he had descended from a musical Sinai where he had received the laws
of synthesis from Gods hand, Mozart passed these laws on to humanity as signs
of wonders. But they did not comprehend him. Already in his earliest years he
was superior to the musicians of his time, unapproachable. With the exception
of Emanuel Bach and Joseph Haydn, who were likewise blessed with the self-
suciency of genius, all of the others, whatever they were called, wherever they
lived and worked, had not the slightest capacity to comprehend his synthesis.
Neither the Piccinnis, Padre Martinis, Jomellis, Boccherinis, Paganellis, nor the
Dunis, Philidors, Monsignys, Schoberts, Eckards, Hochbruckers; neither Chris-
tian Bach, nor Gluck, Hasse, Cannabich, Stamitz, Holzbauer, Wendling, Vogler,
Eberlin, Gassmann, Abel, Eichner, etc.I am speaking now only of the time of
the twenty-two-year-old Mozartnot one of these could truly approach him on
a spiritual plane. He could, when he wished and, unfortunately, was often com-
pelled to, imitate all of them, even most barren of themin the most soulless,
cheapest sense of the word; but with the best of intentions not one of them could
do the same to him. Mozart freely oered his wonder, but his contemporaries ac-
cepted it as the empty heap of humanity is accustomed to receive such wonder,
tonwi lle 2
64
9
Und namentlich in T. 32. Schenker cannot be referring to bar 32 of the movement; more proba-
bly, he is thinking of the cadences at the end of the section comprising bars 10742, where the nal
tonic is given greater emphasis (both at bar 134 and at bar 142).
10
The page is given incorrectly in the original (356); this table, and others that illustrate toniciza-
tion schematically, do not appear in the English edition.
C

5
F

3
B
II V I
gaping, laughing with cheap astonishment, even bellowing, but the grace of the
wonder healed them not in the least, nor did it elevate their souls. When their
contact with him was past and the gaping and bellowing over, they became the
willing slaves even of those who utterly lacked divine inspiration.
So it was also with later generations. No musician, no teacher, still less an aes-
thete could grasp an iota of Mozarts art. An instinctive humility before genius
could still lead an Otto Jahn, the rst to attempt a full account of his life, to at-
tribute sacred powers to so incomprehensible a being, and he exhibits grateful
enthusiasm where knowledge would have actually intensied his gratitude and
enthusiasm. But shortly thereafter came the historians who, as a profession, have
no idea what it is to be in awe of the self-suciency of genius and who, Darwin-
like, search for Mozarts musical ape-ancestors; and since they are incapable of
reading Mozarts music, they confuse temporal proximity with spiritual and
then, according to their caprice or propensity for their own historical activity,
seek to interpret one or another artistic circle as the source of his art. {18} The his-
torians were proud to have tracked down common characteristics here and there,
but did not suspect that they themselves shared the characteristic of having made
no contact whatever with Mozart by these eorts.
Just as the Creator of the world is not what man knows of him, but rather
precisely that which the earthly blockhead does not know and certainly never will
know, so in the same way a Mozart, as a truly divine vessel, is also not that which
the historians claim he resembles, but is precisely that which they never were and
never could be.
In recent times, the attacks on Mozart have multiplied; now they originate in
the land of the French, where two biographies (see the discussion of the litera-
ture) seek to derive his art from French antecedents. The wave has already over-
whelmed Germany and a spiritual vassal of those Frenchso the most recent
biographer Mr. Schurig
11
identies himself, evidently with pridestands as the
rst to follow the likes of Stendhal, but for this very reason stands as far from
Mozart as did Stendhal, i.e. worlds apart; he even dares to slander and disparage
Mozart the man. Now the time has come to put an end to the democratic trade
of all of these enemies of progress who seek to historicize Mozart without hav-
ing even the faintest intimation of his spirit, and to reveal the concept of Mozart
as sacred and light in terms of his unsurpassed miracles. Here, I have opened a
little gate into his Paradise, welcoming all who are of good will, whose souls I can
show a wonder not through hollow faith, but for the sake of transguration
through knowledge.

Beneath the sun of Art, Mozart also ripened as a man more quickly than is
granted to other mortals. When he set down the A minor sonata, in his twenty-
second year, his destiny had already left its distinctive mark upon his life. His
human qualities were wonderfully in tune with his supernatural gift, but the re-
sistance of a barren humanity forced him into a struggle involving persuasion
and compulsion; and thus, in order to support himself, had no other choice but
to show his fellow human beings more facile gestures, which they could compre-
hend much more easily than his wondrous spiritual powers.
Mozart recognizes that the gift has come to him from above: he thanks God
for it and is devout, as only a genius may be devout. In full cognizance of his abil-
ities, he reveals them only when he must, and then only with the gentlest and
most modest words. In the midst of the quarrel between followers of Gluck and
Piccinni, he underscores his own superiority to both of them with the briefest of
remarks. He remains completely aloof from the conict and, by his own appear-
ance, immediately takes a decision that is to the disadvantage of both sides.
Where can one nd among the many, all too many esprit-fools (Grimm
12
and
those like him), just one soul who comprehended Mozart in his own time and
perceived the victory of ability over inability as embodied in him?
In his treatment of people, Mozart remains kindly, modest, gladly apprecia-
tive, and bares the claws of a genius only when his wondrous gift is maligned or
Mozarts Sonata in A Minor, K. 310
65
11
Artur Schurig, the author of a biography of Mozarts sister Nannerl and of the book that
Schenker is referring to here, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: sein Leben und sein Werk (Leipzig: Insel-
Verlag, 1913, revised in 1923 as Wolfgang Amad Mozart: sein Leben, seine Persnlichkeit, sein Werk).
Schurigs work is alluded to in the Miscellanea of Tonwille 3 (which were originally intended to be
published in the same volume as this essay), and revisited in the Miscellanea of Tonwille 4, where
several personalities mentioned in the essay on Mozarts K. 310Schurig, Vogler, and Stendhalare
discussed at greater length.
12
Baron Friedrich Melchior Grimm (17231807), a German writer and music critic active in Paris
until the French Revolution and closely associated with the Encyclopedists. He was on very close
terms with Mozart during his trip to Paris in 1778, and seems to have exerted some inuence on the
young composers approach to opera at a crucial moment in his career, shortly before the composi-
tion of Idomeneo. But they fell out in the summer of that year, a letter from Grimm to Leopold Mozart
(July 27) reporting Wolfgangs complacency and deciency of professional ambition (an extract of this
letter is quoted in Tonwille 3, p. 32/i, pp. 12930). Wolfgang wrote to his father on September 11, com-
plaining that Grimm misunderstood his talent and deemed him incapable of writing a French opera.
when the untalented (as in the case of Vogler
13
) behave immodestly. As only a ge-
nius can love and be thankful, he loves and honors his relatives and is grateful to
his father in spite of his tremendous superiority to him. He is a keen judge of
men, of princes, high and low servants of the Church (and for this very reason is
not servile, but devout), of rich and poor, of Germans, French, Italian; but he uses
his knowledge of human nature less in order to live with or even from men, since
in the end he lives only for his art. Not until {19} the time comes that Mozarts
scores can be read with understanding will one be able to understand why he got
so excited about the theatre, even from his childhood days, in which his greatest
works are anticipated, so that he surpasses even Shakespeare in his portrayal of
humanity. To the general mass of men, who merely live as lowly as their basic
needs require but do not suspect that everything that they ascribe to themselves
derives from the indispensible wares that can be had for money, behind which
they plod in self-interested darkness, to such a mass he knows nevertheless how
to convey his works to the man. Even if it were not the legacy of every genius, one
must marvelmore even than at the abundance of Mozarts work, more even
than at the wonder of his profoundnessat the energy with which he pursues his
work. He knew what he was doing, for despite his apparent cheerfulness and gre-
garious nature he led a lonely life, whose sole purpose was the fulllment of the
miracle with which he felt he had been blessed.

In the following selection of judgments of Mozarts disguised genius, by compo-

sition teachers and historians, it will be proved and shown how mistakes thrive
and multiply like rats in the canals of ignorance, and with what means they seize
the right to live and be transplanted.
Marx (Kompositionslehre, Part III)
14
marvels at the wealth of musical invention
and opines . . . Much inherited from him and his successors has become so com-
mon that we forget to credit him with its invention. Then, immediately follow-
ing he adds . . . that Mozart frequently proceeds in small structures that lack any
stronger connection than that derived from the general mood [Stimmung]. This
gives his compositions the charm of the ever changing, the ever new, nimbly
seeking furtheras a substitute for the deeply penetrating, that which is destined
to seize our souls and which is characteristic of Beethovens instrumental com-
positions. That the frequent changes do not, however, cause the unity to be dis-
sipated and destroyed, that is the function of the mood, which binds each work
more securely together to a single conception, together with a strict form and
arrangement of the larger sections.
In another passages he writes: The multiplicity of his themes [Stze] . . .
which are held together only by key and general mood. And elsewhere: Here,
too, we are concerned with one, if not two themes with dierent, if not related
contents. It would be dicult to demonstrate an inner necessity: the fecund tone-
poet was accustomed to expressing himself in pleasant conceits that were unable
to move him deeply and hold him rmly in their grip; in the same way, we enjoy
his talent.
Or on another occasion, when he speaks of logic and rationality in Beetho-
vens works: . . . which is deeper than that of Mozart, who is commonly associ-
atedwithout any justication whateverwith an advantage in this respect, on
the basis of his inheritance and [the achievements of] his youth [aus angeerbter
und von Jugend her bestehender Gewhnung].
And so Marx comes to the conclusion: Is then the Mozartian manner of this
succession of many small structures worthy of imitation or condemnation?
Neither one nor the other. For the tone poetall the more one who brings such
plenitude of ideasmust remain free to proceed to a certain extent without care
[in leichter Weise], like a buttery itting from one blossom to the next, in well-
mannered play with gentle ideas. What is characteristic of this play is precisely its
lack of intentionality: the composer relinquishes one idea, one theme, for an-
other, not because he is determined to do so but because this idea did not possess
sucient force to hold him in its grasp for long, and this is the inner necessity of
such shapes. But this requires no assiduous exercise; quite the contrary: it is the
grasping of ideas and deepening in them that must be practised and developed,
these being the special, crucial skills that an artist can learn.
In this way, Marx totally overlooks the essential aspect of Mozart, his tech-
nique of changing diminution and motive in the service of Urlinie-segment and
degree, i.e. an Urlinie-synthesis that is more fundamental to unity than any kind
of mood. What a tragic destiny for the nongenius: give him the same, then he
always cries out for the new to move and renew his spiritual inertia and uncre-
tonwi lle 2
66
13
Georg Joseph Vogler (17491814), German theorist, pianist, and composer. His path crossed
Mozarts in 177778, at Mannheim; his immodest behavior apparently consisted of a brash, unmu-
sical performance of the solo part of one of Mozarts concertos.
14
Adolf Bernhard Marx, Die Lehre von der musikalischen Komposition, praktisch-theoretisch, 4
vols. (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hrtel: 183747). Volume 3 was rst published in 1845 and went through
four editions in Marxs lifetime.
ativitygive him diversity wrung from the most profound unity and freedom,
then he stumbles again over diversity, for which he senses no inner necessity. Is
it possible, then, that the nongenius will ever discover the path to genius?
Marx even believes that he knows the precise cause of the putative lack of
synthesis in Mozart: . . . a demand to move forward, simultaneously the feeling
of the hurry of life that {20} often does not grant him the peace to incorporate
this into a given theme and to cultivate this exclusively, and thereby impart to it
that depth and closed unity. . .
In another place, to be sure, he contradicts himself in attributing the cause
more to Mozarts unhappy life-circumstances than to the independence of his
nature: In the nal analysis, in the haste and pressure of his short life, Mozart
often had occasion to accommodate himself more to the taste, modes, and man-
ners of his contemporaries than was right and good for him; he often armed it,
and bitterly complained that he (though he was indeed very wealthy) could not
live a freer, wealthier professional life.
Now it is indeed true that Mozart died young; we also may believe that, in the
case of a young genius destined to die young, Nature demands from him maxi-
mum accomplishment, in order to secure it within the given time frame: never-
theless, anyone who, like Marx, would claim that an early death is the only reason
for a lack of synthesis in Mozarts work, would search apparently unconsciously
to justify his own error.
The second source of the putative lack of synthesis is ascribed by Marx to the
instrument: Indeed, at one time the instrument itself was so far removed from
its present improved state that one might almost call it a dierent instrument.
The action was light and weak; the strings were thin, with limited resonance, and
easily broken; therefore the playing had to be light, rened, and avoiding fullness
and power, which it would use to greatest advantage, in combination with the
later improvements to the instrument. At that time, the technique required for
fullness, brilliance, or intensication was not as developed or widespread as it
is today; from this perspective, Mozart himself would not be a match for our
present-day virtuosos, in as much as he also would be overshadowed by their
spiritual force.
How greatly ill considered are these sentences, too! If a given content is com-
plete in itself from the standpoint of synthesis, without contradicting the instru-
mentand only internal considerations are crucial in this respectwhat can
change later through increase in sound, or the like, to the disadvantage of inter-
nal completeness? In every epoch, it is possible to compose well or badly for a
given instrument. Now, for the instrument that he had at his disposal, Mozart
simply composed better than his contemporaries, and for this reason the perfec-
tion of his content also must be sucient for todays gigantic instruments; nor
does it matter, either, whether I perform a consummately conceived work today
on a Steinway, a Blthner, or a Bechstein, or on a less distinguished make. Any-
one who truly hears Mozarts synthesis can play it better on the most miserable
jingle-box than someone playing on our proudest instrument who hears it, for
example, only as Marx or the pianists of our time hear it. The human larynx has
not changed since the earliest of times; nor has the art of singing changed, since
the time such an art existed; the same applies, for example, to the violin and a
great many other instruments for some time. Do we like and praise the early
masterworks composed for voice or violin simply because the instrument has re-
mained unchanged? Surely not. Then why should the circumstances be dierent
for our early keyboard masterworks?
To appreciate the seriousness of Marxs mistakes, it is necessary to cite further
what he writes concerning the way the piano was treated after Mozarts and Bee-
thovens time: While in the case of both composers, especially with Beethoven,
the spiritual content always took precedence over sensual qualities as the deter-
mining factor, parallel to them, through Dussek, A. E. Mller and others, there
arose a desire for fuller sonority and a broader style of playing, while by contrast,
Carl Maria von Weber strove vigorously to incorporate both tendencies. And in
this way he proceeds to Hummel, Thalberg, Schumann, Liszt, and so on. But then
Marx further qualies these thoughts, as he explains: This consideration is es-
pecially important and useful with respect to the most recent direction of piano
technique. It combines the most undeniable and meaningful advance with the
unmistakable threat to, or hampering of, the spiritual aspect of art. In any case,
this is tied in with the direction of the times with its turn toward the material and
industrial, toward combining blinding glitter with violence.
If only Marx had understood Mozart better, how dierently and much more
correctly would he have been able to judge the dierence between Mozart and
Beethoven in relation to the broad style of playing of Dussek, Mller, and Weber
(to whom, may it be noted in passing, all capacity for sonata-synthesis was de-
nied). He also then would have been spared making the distinction with regard
to Liszt: . . . what he did for the instrument cannot be suciently praised and ur-
gently enough recommended to the study of composers. Much more, he should
have grasped that Liszt took the pianowhich is after all not an orchestra, {21}
but a completely self-sucient, unique instrumentin the direction of the or-
Mozarts Sonata in A Minor, K. 310
67
chestra, as if its essence were, among other things, only an odd abbreviation of
the orchestra. At the same time he took what might be called the chest tone, the
speaking voice of the piano, and turned it into a high falsetto or thrust it down
an octave into the depths, all without any compelling reason and on account of a
decit of creative insight into the fundamental nature of the piano and piano
composition. Marxs above-quoted words should be turned around: the artist
should create content, but not occasional pieces for the instrument, oerings to
the instrument, as it were. In this sense, the words with which Marx sought to
turn justify his opinion of Mozart only turn back upon himself: True love and
veneration go hand in hand not only with such knowledge, but also stand the test
of time as something deeply rooted, incapable of being assailed by that fantasti-
cal adulation that holds its objector perhaps just its exalted reputation
rmly in its grasp without actually knowing what it demands of its prey.
One also nds in the Kompositionslehre a judgment about the form of the
Andante, but it is entirely wrong, again because Marx is unable to interpret the
content. And nally, it may be noted that Mozart composed the sonata in ques-
tion on his own impulse, and not at all to fulll a commission.
Riemann (Handbuch der Musikgeschichte, vol. 2, part III, 1913): Through his ap-
pealing and warm melodies Mozart moved his listeners, both contemporaries
and future generations, as did almost no other composer. Riemann speaks then
of melodies and not of their synthesis, while he understands them neither in
particular or general terms, nor how much higher a synthesis, both as a concept
and in its realization, stands above a mere melody. He does not suspect that
without the felicitous synthesis even the melodies of a Mozart would not have
resonated in the hearts of posterity, even less is this the case with those of his
famous contemporaries who lack an analogously superior art of synthesis. Rie-
mann thereby confuses cause and eect. One observes this, for example, also in
the following assertion: That which is truly compelling in Mozarts instrumen-
tal music resides most certainly in the cantabile of his themes, which is modeled
most certainly on the vocal style of Italian opera. Thus, he hears in Mozarts
themesagain, a fundamental misunderstanding of Mozarts synthesisonly
that part of the eect that, so he believes, connects them with Italian lyricism; but
at the same time he fails to identify precisely the qualities by which they so greatly
surpass that lyricism (surely he also holds this opinion), and by which, in the last
analysis, they alone attain preeminence. And he even writes the following: In
Mozart, the beauty and contents of the melodies make us unaware of their stereo-
typical construction: Schobert at least partly compensates for stretches [of his
melodies] with dark hues. But Riemanns themes and construction are de-
nitely not Mozarts synthesis, for how could he have then articulated only that
which was accessible to his supercial way of hearing? At the same time, these very
impressions cannot be valid when, for example, the dark hues which he em-
phasizes are also suciently represented in Mozarts A minor Sonata (the reader
will know how to nd them himself); also the same sonata provides evidence that
Mozarts piano melody is denitely not connedas Riemann suggests else-
whereto the soprano register. And besides: how was Schoberts melody in
fact created? In the German manner? more German than Mozarts? Why, then,
does the historian not admit that he prefers him to Mozart? Riemann does not
address this issue. Put another way: if it is true that Schobert, in common with
Mozart, has a melodic sense derived from the vocal style of Italian opera, how is
it that, even so, Riemann does not place him higher than Mozart, since he is pre-
pared to reproach the latter for stereotypical construction and a lack of dark
hues. But I repeat: where Schobert ends, only there does Mozarts realm begin
immeasurably, and unknown to all. Riemann has never entered it; otherwise he
would not have considered it necessary, in his dictionary of music, to call upon a
witness as utterly unreliable as Cornelie von Goethe on Schoberts behalf. But in
order to give the reader an indication of Riemanns shocking ignorance and lack
of taste, I quote his nal pronouncement concerning the quality of Mozarts work:
His piano music remains highly valued as teaching material on account of qual-
ities that cultivate good taste. I ask: what would one say of a teacher of poetry who
would consider Goethes poems at best only teaching material simply because,
being incapable of grasping Goethean experience, a Goethean expression in its
true depth, he believed that he had outgrown them. Thus, Riemanns judgment
belongs with those stemming from the prince-archbishop of Salzburg, Colloredo,
of whom Mozarts father reports in a letter to Padre Martini: Enough, he was not
ashamed to say that my son knows nothing, that he should goto Naplesand
enroll in a music conservatory in order to learn music. And why all of this? In
order to explain why {22} a young man should not be so silly as to persuade him-
self that he deserved a somewhat higher wage, after these particular words were
uttered by a prince. This convinced me to give my son permission to leave his ser-
vice. If the archbishops judgment is a clear sign of his miserliness, Riemann as a
historian is familiar with only a few names associated with Mozart; and only in
order to give the all-too-motley row the veneer of a development, he must, as a
backward-oriented democrat, make Mozart much smaller than necessary in order
tonwi lle 2
68
to allow those people a certain role in it. Therefore I warn against interpreting the
princes behavior as more of a tragedy than the words of the composition teacher
(!) and music historian (!) Riemann. These are surely much more the certain
stabs in the back
15
by a democrat in spirit. Finally, the archbishop refused money
only once, and Mozart could escape his meanness forever, but how can the genius
ever draw out the dagger-blows from behind of those democrats, who will never
die out? It is indeed the genius, whether living or dead, who is exposed to a true
perpetuum mobile from being knocked around by the dagger-blows of democrats.
T. de Wyzewa and G. de Saint-Foix (Wolfgang Amade Mozart: Sa vie musicale et
son oeuvre de lenfance la pleine maturit 17561777, Paris, 1912) present the fun-
damental ideas of their two-volume work in the introduction, as follows:
16
Given his essentially feminine nature, this poetic genius always needed to re-
ceive the additional stimulation necessary to engage his art on new paths, but
only so that he could immediately transform the ideas or methods that were re-
vealed by the work of this or that musician he chanced to encounter, animating
them with a signication and beauty at once much higher and completely origi-
nal, the ideas or methods which the work of this or that musician revealed to
him. He may be thought to represent a sort of Don Juan gure, condemned by a
mysterious instinct to be compelled unceasingly to fall in love with new mis-
tressessimply because, in each of them in turn, he hopes to nd a wonderful
ideal of passionate graceand then instantly lending each one of them a magi-
cal reection of her particular beauty: this is a bit of the history of Mozarts life,
but we must not forget that the mistresses who successively fascinated him in a
moment and conquered him totally were neither the Madame Duscheks nor the
Aloysia Webers but rather, so to speak, the noble muses who opened his eyes to
the works of a Christian Bach, a Schobert, or a Michael Haydn. . . . In this way we
show him passing the years of his youth, renewing his inspiration and his style al-
most month by month; and this powerful creator remained this way until the
end, without ever being in doubt about the prodigious, fundamental unity that
his genius imposed upon the ever-changing styles that he essayed.
Need I add that nobody has ever undertaken to study Mozarts life from this
point of view?
17
And further on: . . . the project of reconstructing the internal development of
Mozarts genius, with the hope of gaining access to the veritable soul and life of
the master, by means of the most anecdotal details of the most minor incidents
of his individual existence. We found ourselves on completely new terrain.
Good gracious! I call this an attack of esprit: Mozart himself as a sort of Don
Juan (naturally of the spirit), and the new mistresses, the noble muses, al-
most from one month to the next, and all of this the French New Territory of
ideas: surely this will humble the German Schurigs!
18
With this we have heartfelt admiration of Mozarts genius, which gives one to
believe in advance that the authors do it full justice. Of course, the clarity for
which the French praise themselves so assiduously would have revealed to the au-
thors at the outset the logical incongruity of their perspective; if only French
clarity were also sucient for the recognition of genius. What, then, is genius
other than the capacity for the highly gifted to let a seed be created {23}, inde-
pendently of all external patterns and models that have not grown out of and
evolved with this seed? Just where, for example, in the sonata by Mozart pre-
sented here, which fully develops its own seed, would there be place for the de-
velopment of seeds foreign to its being? Indeed, one merely has to glance through
the authors presentation of individual Mozart works to realize immediately that
they can only come to grief over the fundamental ideas in the music, because the
Mozarts Sonata in A Minor, K. 310
69
15
Dolchsto von hinten: a reference to the demoralization of the German army at the end of World
War I by the German government and the national press. See Tonwille 1, p. 10/i, p. 11 and note 55.
16
The two volumes of this life-and-works study, published by Decle de Brouwer, are respectively
subtitled Lenfant-prodigue (for the period 175673) and Le jeune matre (177377); Saint-Foix took
the work to the end of Mozarts life in a further three volumes, published between 1936 and 1946. The
rst set of extracts are taken from pp. ivvi of the introduction to vol. 1.
17
[S]No so. In his own way, Otto Jahn has already thoroughly addressed the question concerning
which inuences encountered in his youth were decisive (see, for example, the third edition [of Jahns
Mozart biography], pp. 55760). But, naturally, all of his investigations must fail, because he cannot
comprehend the purely musical content of Mozarts brilliance (the new type of synthesis, the art of
voice leading, and so on), not to say anything of presenting it. And so he writes: While some receive
the impression of a work of art passively [willenlos], and then somewhat later seek to clarify the basis
for their enjoyment, and while others through reection seek to comprehend the artwork in all its
particulars and through this present it to themselves, it is given to the creative genius to preserve its
totality, also while learning. In view of the immutability of his own being through which the artistic
genius derives only impressions of nature which he seeks to create in a new way, this [process of as-
similation] also applies to the foreign artwork as well. But while Jahn cannot say in which way
Mozart expresses the totality, his immutable essential being, he nds no occasion to distinguish
between that in his work which is to be traced back to outside inuences and his own development.
For genius also develops, as does every other human child. And even a Mozart would not be able to
compose, for example, the Symphony in G minor before the Haner Serenade; so much Nature im-
poses her will upon the genius, just as much as the rest of the world wants eventually to impute mod-
els. The idea of both French authors is therefore in no wise new, not new also is their error.
18
This bitterly sarcastic remark refers to Schurigs biography of Mozart (see note 11).
notes that Mozart wrote are completely foreign to them. If they had access to the
Mozart who is, as it were, the growing seed itself, they would have ignored not
only the Duscheks and Aloysia Webers of the world, but also the Christian Bachs,
Schoberts, and Michael Haydns! Certainly! But instead of this, they, too, just like
their predecessors, describe Mozarts genius merely with the same words of hom-
age and with an all-the-more democratic pleasure that brings out inuences that
seem to change almost from one month to the next, but which they are still in-
capable of explaining.
In the appendix, the authors also devote a few words to Mozarts time in
Paris. We read there:
19
March to July 1778. In Paris, during the initial months of his stay, Mozarts
oeuvre appeared to be completely impregnated with instrumental reminiscences
of Mannheim and the new spirit of the French masters. The expression becomes
more precise, more articulated, and, naturally, also more emotional [pathtique].
The musical phrase is more condensed, and it is clad in a more modern allure.
In a word, the young man acquired a host of new inuences and ideals of which
some, however, never cease to be present in him; but for all this, his compositions
of this rst Parisian period always have something a bit too constrictive and con-
strained, as if Mozart felt ill at ease in an atmosphere too dierent from the one
with which he had hitherto been familiar.
Against this, however, stands Mozarts own critical assessment of those
French masters (see also Tonwille 1, pp. 5152/i, pp. 4546). The only way of de-
ciding which party is correct is to compare Mozarts works with the French com-
posers of that period, and especially with Schoberts (who belongs with them: see
the discussion of Riemann, earlier). If one perceives how the synthesis is already
created in those piano sonatas of Mozart (to say nothing of the symphonies),
which he composed long before he found himself in Paris, one must recognize at
rst glance the depth, which even today is still not comprehended, as the most
personal possession of his geniusif only one had a vision of it. So it may be
agreed, rst of all, that the ingenious Mozartean synthesis is something upon
which the matres franais did not even have an opportunity to exert an inu-
ence. And if one considers what he composed in Parisincluding our sonata
who can seriously think of French models and inuences except, of course, for
those who have no conception whatsoever of Mozarts synthesis? To put it in
terms of the esprit-language of the authors, it was Mozart, not the French musi-
cians, who was the esprit nouveau of his time. And Mozart remains new even
today, new even for Germany (of which he is of course a product: but this is a
question of genius and the propagating soil of humans [Menschenhumus], see
Tonwille 1, pp. 3/i, pp. 3 ), not to speak of France. Furthermore, the true art of
music in France was extinguished early on, with Couperin and Rameau. But even
in the music of these masters, counterpoint and synthesis never tower above the
measure of excellence that was common at that time and, up to a certain point,
actually lifted national and personal standards. (A similar phenomenon is found
also in Italy, in the work of Domenico Scarlatti, the last peak of great Italian
music, but he was a greater genius than the above-named French masters.) As a
consequence, the French ear has shown itself not to have matured to meet the
challenge of a higher, developed synthesis. The uttering of the so-called esprit
does not replace in music that glow of love that must always be maintained if one
is to produce a synthesis in the Mozartean sense. That the Frenchman does not
recognize and feel the barrenness of his own soul himself, that is something that,
admittedly, Nature alone must answer for, given the general principle that, by way
of compensation and comfort, she grants to the least individual the illusion that
he is of some value.
That Mozart felt uncomfortable in Paris, and the extent to which he was ill
at ease, is something we know likewise from his letters. The pued-up chivalry
of the French authorsoh, the French love such chivalry, especially when they
practice it among themselves!belongs to all that which so fundamentally ig-
nores the mercilessly German precision of Mozarts words. Or are the authors
perhaps of the opinion that in Mozarts time in France there was no ass be-
cause everywhere and at no time could there be an ass?
20
This reminds me of a
charming anecdote, related by Jean Paul, of a young French soldier who, nding
himself in a theater in a German city occupied by the French, was annoyed that
the Germans in the audience were xing their entire attention on a single high-
ranking French ocer, and he nally cried out: Pah! What a great man [am I]!
We French are all great! {24} Now then, to this unknown soldierI do not
wish to take the moral opinions of the French democracy more seriously than is
warranted by their deeds, and thus am not exercised by the well-known recent
theatrical unveiling of Victory in the form of a memorial honoring an un-
known soldierbut I would like to oer the following reply: I doubt whether
tonwi lle 2
70
19
The following extract is taken from pp. 404 5 of vol. 2.
20
Schenker is referring to the extract of Mozarts letter of July 9, 1778, quoted in Tonwille 1, p. 52/i,
p. 46.
there has ever been a great Frenchman, or even whether there could be one; and
I am o the opinion that the entire French Pantheonlock, stock, and barrel
would not t inside the toe of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. But I fear that not
only the unknown soldier but also the better-known soldiers of France, and the
other citizens as well, cannot comprehend a pennys worth of thought, since as
backward esprit-democrats they do not recognize the gold-scales of aristocratic
genius.
July 1778 to January 1779.
21
The last works composed by Mozart in Paris re-
veal enormous progress over those of the preceding months. Continuing to be in-
spired by French taste, the young man again abandons himself freely to his nat-
ural inspiration. The pieces become at once longer and more learned, with
serious thematic elaboration replacing the taste for virtuosity brought back re-
cently from Mannheim.
I really harbor no suspicion that the French authors want to rob us Germans
of Mozart (as they would rob us of Beethoven and others). He has become so
German, so fundamentally engrained in German consciousness, that no people
in the world would contemplate making his Germanity a bone of contention. But
with regard to French taste in Mozart, there really is nothing to it. The French
always want to expropriate German land (I speak politely), but for the expropri-
ation of a Mozart-genius, no esprit is sucient; no imperialism, mandate or title
of annexation, no Versailles, Spa, or other treaty will be of help.
What the authors say concerning thematic development is the usual swag-
ger that one hears in the worst schools.
Mozart was buried in Viennain bad weather, the good Viennese accom-
pany only middle-class citizens and the nobility on their nal journeybut even
this was not enough: historians also bury him in the mass grave of the musical
lightweights past and present. And yet, and yet: Mozarts resurrection is eternal!
He came from another world and has returned to it. He will live on eternally.
Mozarts Sonata in A Minor, K. 310
71
21
This extract is taken from p. 406.
First Movement (Allegro)
Sonata form:
First subject: antecedent bars 18
consequent and modulation bars 920
Second subject bars 2041
Third (closing) subject bars 4148
Development bars 49100
Recapitulation bars 101152
Bars 1. The distinctive marks of this musical composition, setting it apart, as an
individual, from all others, stand out at once in bars 18.
One of these marks is the tendency of the Urlinie tones to appear rst in weak
bars, or on weak beats of the bar. The arpeggiations are meant specically to fos-
ter this tendencysee bars 2 and 4. (In the graph of the Urlinie, p. 73, I have ex-
pressed this by placing round brackets ( ) in bars 1 and 3 at the level of the tones
in questionas I will in all such cases from now on.)
Another is a change in the manner and direction of motion: the line hesitates
(bars 14), presses forward, accelerating (bars 57)specically drawing in the
rst two tones, as a result of which a
,
2
attains stronger accentuationand nally
turns around (bars 78). If the postponement [of Urlinie tones] to weak bars
contributes to the eect of hesitation, the thrusting ahead is likewise not lacking
in additional features that suit it just as well; these are: abbreviation of the arpeg-
giations, expressed through the short grace notes in bars 5 and 6 and underscored
through the two sforzando accents; then, in bar 7, the rolled chord, the shortest
way to run through an arpeggiation, marked fortissimo.
On this foundation of the Urlinie are now woven the motivic particulars
which will receive no further discussion here, however, despite this usually being
the sole subject of an analysis.
At the half cadence of the antecedent in bar 8, g
2
(fth of the dominant)
would have suced as lower boundary of the falling line;
1
meanwhile it is the
force of the forward thrust, having an after-eect in the reversal, that makes the
falling line roll on to e
2
, and only the turn arrests the force of the forward thrust
and the reversal.
Bars 9. The purpose of the consequent is to repeat the line of the reversal in a
lower register, c
2
to g
1
also with a half-cadence (bar 16), but in A
,
major. The
space gaping between e
2
(bar 8) and c
2
(bar 15) is bridged with e
,
2
and d
,
2
in bars
914. In lowering the third of the half-cadential dominant in the rst bar of the
consequent, and immediately claiming the resulting chord as III of A
,
major, the
master shows a kind of rashness in his synthesis that does not have many paral-
lels in the sonata literature (cf. Erluterungsausgabe of Op. 101, p. 27/p. 15).
{26} The basic features [Urmerkmale] presented in the antecedent recur in the
line of the consequent, too:
2
First: The tones fall in weak bars: e
,
2
, d
,
2
, c
2
in bars 10, 12, 14, and, at the accel-
eration in bar 15, even on weak beats of the bar: b
,
2
on the second quarter note
and a
,
2
on the fourth.
72
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1
Beethoven: Sonate opus 2 Nr. 1 {Tonwille 2, pp. 2548}
t r a ns l at e d b y j os e p h dub i e l
1
Why g
2
would have suced is not explained. While a knowledge of Schenkers later work might
suggest a linear connection to a
,
2
as the reason, other considerations suggested by his writing as of the
time of this analysis would be the adequacy of the unfolded interval c
3
-g
2
to determine a C triad, and
the melodic qualities of a descending fourth that would be preferable to those of a descending sixth
(see Kontrapunkt i, part 1, chapter 2, 13 and 15).
2
For this Urlinie segment, the second of Schenkers dening characteristics is a change only in the
manner of motionhesitation and accelerationand not also, as the third paragraph of the analy-
sis promises, in its direction: the Urlinie of the consequent only descends, e
,
2
d
,
2
c
2
b
,
1
a
,
1
g
1
. Sub-
sequent Urlinie segments do change direction after they accelerate, so Schenkers original denition
seems to hold for the general case; but the present segment is not identied as an exception. It is in-
teresting to note that no intervallic characteristics are shared by all the Urlinie segments (except, of
course, that of step motion), so that the pattern of motion is their only consistent common trait.
Second: The line hesitates in bars 914, presses forward in bars 1516 (c
2
g
1
)
and, by the continuing force of this pressing, moves twice more through the en-
tire sum e
,
2
g
1
in bars 1620, as if to imprint what is swiftly running away. What
nature in this art! What correspondence of an ingenious compositional stroke to
the general natural laws of the soul!
Only here the eect of hesitation is no longer achieved through arpeggia-
tions, as it was in the antecedent, but, rst, in bars 1114, by a chain of seventh
chords in a series of falling fths, which are at the same time harmonic degrees
in the service of the modulatory cadence; and, thereafter, in bar 15, by suspen-
sions, surely the smallest-scale version of the dening characteristic [Urmal] of
weak metrical position, which connect naturally to the preceding tying-over of
notes in the seventh chords:
3 7
3 7
3 7
3
A
,
major: III VI II V I
7 6 | 6 5. Consequently the seventh chord in bar 11 is to be heard as VI and not
IV (see, however, the discussion of the secondary literature). Most admirable is
the security with which the young master, in such a dangerous situation, achieves
the tying-over of two principal tones that is essential here, e
,
| e
,
across bars 10|11,
from just the initial sixteenth note of the turnlike gure in bar 11 (cf. bar 1), while,
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1
73

in contrast, he forms only the subordinated anticipation, d

,
| d
,
across bars 11|12,
from the larger values of the third and fourth quarter notes (d
,
2
). The tonic
(preparing the half-cadence) is inserted just to mark the boundary between the
hesitating segment and the forward-thrusting one in bar 14. The way the synco-
pations of bar 15 seem to experience a new animation, on the other handfol-
lowing more rapidly upon the tones of the preceding bars, broadly hesitating and
merely decorated with turnsthis belongs to the realm of the melodic. (I have
called such expression the eye of the modulation in Beethovens neunte Sinfonie,
p. 14/pp. 3940;
3
cf. Ornamentik pp. 10/pp. 27.)
4
Bars 20. The Urlinie shows the second group to be basically undivided: we see
it striving upward in the new tonality from g
1
to e
,
2
(unfolding of the dominant)
and, in reverse direction, falling to the tonic note a
,
1
. The circumstances of bar
41that the line, while falling and in the context of an adequately developed ca-
dence, reaches only as far as c, leaving this full cadence imperfectare all that
justify the identication of a closing theme starting in bar 41, which nally leads
the line downward to a
,
.
5
Thus, according to the line, the closing subject is part
of the second subject, while the conduct of the harmony allows the imperfect full
cadence to be perceived as a division between second and third subjects.
{27} And again the basic features [Urmale]:
First: whether one perceives bar 21 as strong, because of the motivic entrance, as
at b) of the following sketch:
4/4 h. q
) g
1
a
,
1
) (g
1
| g
1
a
,
1
) (g
1
| g
1
a
,
1
) (g
1
bar: 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27
a) 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
b) 1 (2)|1 2 3 4 5 (6)|1 2
or only takes into account the tying-over of the tone g
1
in bars 2122, as at ): ei-
ther way, the rst a
,
1
is weakly accented, either in the weak bar 22 or indeed in the
second half of this bar; and the same holds for the second a
,
1
in bar 24. If bar 26
is likewise strong, due to the next motivic alteration (see b), then the two distur-
bances, bars 21 and 26, cancel each other out, like two negatives, so that the basic
meter returns at bar 26 (see at a), and so the third a
,
1
falls on the regular seventh
bar of the eight-bar unit running from bar 20. Consequently, this a
,
1
asks to be
heard as strongly accented, insofar as bar 26 is stronger than bar 27, but also,
much moreand this is the decisive thingas weakly accented compared to g
1
of bar 20, which certainly claims the rst three pairs of bars (disregarding the os-
cillation of g
1
to a
,
1
in bars 22 and 24, shown at ), so that a relation like
g
1
a
,1
(as
shown at ) is expressed. The hesitation of the tonic tone a
,
(bar 26) is accord-
ingly eected here in a new way, in contrast to bars 12 or 915, approximating
the form of a long apoggiatura. What marvelous variety in this matter! But the
bass, which enters with octave arpeggiation on the downbeat of bar 20 and
thereby makes the bar into a strongly accented one, by itself maintains the regu-
larity of a), which is indispensable for producing the eect ), through the two
disruptionsan invaluably ingenious aid to synthesis, since lost to composers, to
the considerable detriment of sonata form. In bars 2627, it is syncopations that
displace the tones to the weak beats of the bars; and the accented passing tones in
bars 34 and 35 are to be understood as the last remnants of this technique.
Second: The line hesitates in bars 2025 (g
1
a
,
1
twice, while the pedal point
on the dominant expressly suppresses the eect of a tonic:

VI
V
); it thrusts forward
to e
,
2
in bars 2528 (the tonic comes through clearly with a
,
1
of bar 26), where-
upon a repetition (in the higher octave) follows in bars 3033 under the force of
the pressing-forward, as in bars 16. The high register is maintained until the ca-
dence; then the direction of the line is reversed.
The way in which the Urlinie begins with g
1
in this segment is imitated in the
realm of harmonic degrees through the inversional ordering of themV enters
at the head (see Harmonielehre, pp. 44/pp. 31 )
6
so that, once again, sonata
synthesis is most eectively promoted.
The graph shows how the descending line of the consequent phrase of the rst
tonwi lle 2
74

3
This refers to bars 74 79 of the rst movement.
4
This is the section Form in the Works of C. P. E. Bach.
5
Schenkers reading of bar 41 gives him a complex case to argue: he wants to admit a thematic ar-
ticulation at the cadence of bar 41, but to assign this only the status of an inection of a more funda-
mental continuity, dened by the Urlinie descent passing through this measure. Each aspect of the
passage that he addresses reinforces one conception of the passage and, if not quite undermines, at
least complicates the other: the clear fact of the cadence makes for the articulation, while the rather
more theoretical proposition that the cadence is imperfect makes for the continuity. And in this sen-
tence Schenker seems to lose track for a moment of which fact argues for which reading, writing that
the cadences imperfection justies the identication of a new theme after it. In any event, the ambi-
guity of his reading is claried in the next sentence, and the problem of the cadences perfection is ad-
dressed later (at the end of the section about bars 20).
6
The passage referred to is 16, Inversion as Counterpart to Development.

} } } }
q . h
subject still exerts an eect in the inner voices of the second subject (how beauti-
fully it is able to veil the conduct of the diminution!); {28} how, further, the rst tone
of the downward arpeggiation, f
,
2
in bar 20, applies pressure to the line, as it were,
and forces it to climb to e
,
,
2
even though f
,
2
is itself not an Urlinie tone but only a
tone of diminution (a
,
2
in bar 27 similarly prepares g
2
in bar 27what necessity in
the apparently unrestrained world of diminutions!); and how, nally, the runs of the
right hand in bars 33 can be derived from arpeggiations, to which those of the left
hand reply (the rhythm of the latter originates in the arpeggiations of the preceding
bars). The concluding note of the eighth-note run in bar 41 feigns a perfect full ca-
dence, to be sure; against this, what argues for an imperfect one is that the line must
touch upon c
2
and b
,
1
if it wants to get from d
,
2
to a
,
,
1
and that the closing subject
commences with c (c
,
stands for c), which comes from the seventh d
,
see bar 40.
Bars 41. In bars 43, 45, and 4748, the leap of a fth e
,
2
a
,
1
expressly summa-
rizes the fth-progression just traversed by step, and sowhat a signicant
stroke of diminution [Zug der Diminution] in the service of synthesis!under-
scores the overall result of the second group, which as a totality can easily be
overlooked and forgotten, over and above the association of the specic second
and closing subjects.
7
Bars 49. The development provides its content in bars 4955 with the material
of the rst subject, and in bars 55 with that of the second subject. In contrast,
the line follows (apart from the changed harmonic meaning) the course of just
the antecedent of the rst subject: a
,
1
to c
2
(bar 69) and back to e
1
(bar 81).
The basic features express themselves in this segment as follows:
The tones a
,
1
and b
,
,
1
bars 50 and 61, fall in the weak bars of the groups. To
understand the hesitation in the continuation, another sketch will help:
b
1
a
1
(g
1
) g
1
f
1
b
1
c
2
b
,
1
a
,
1
g
1
etc.
bar: 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 etc.
1 2 3 4 5 (6)
1 2 3 4 5 (6)
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
10 bars 8 bars
If the motivic content of the eight-bar unit, bars 5562, had been repeated ex-
actly in bars 63, the tone c
2
in bar 69 would be expected to be weakly accented;
but since the reversal of the line is to begin with this tone, Beethoven makes a
point of altering the content and technique to indicate this as early as bar 68
(where the motive is in the bass), so that bar 69 is perceived as weak in a dier-
ent sense, namely, within a new group of bars. In this group, b
,
1
then falls in the
weak bar 71. The postponement of the principal tones is eected here through
falling fths with the signicance of harmonic degrees, as in bars 1115, except
that the chords are supported by their roots; incidentally, the consecutive-octave
succession of the outer voices is also eliminated by the falling fths:
bar 69 71
soprano: c
2
b
,
1
bass: C B
,
8 8
{29} After this, a
,
1
is already expected in bar 73; however, since the return
modulation is to begin with this tone, the master felt compelled to make a new
alteration in bar 73, which once again has the consequence that this bar becomes
strong and bar 74, where the a
,
2
falls, weak. From here on, the eight-bar unit ows
forth undisturbed, leading the principal tones in the weak bars 74, 76, 78. In order
to achieve a owing bass motion. Beethoven supports the principal tones with
chords of the sixth.
Corresponding to the other basic feature, the semitone progression a
,
ab
,

bc in bars 4969 expresses the lines hesitation, in contrast to which the move-
ment of reversal is to be perceived as acceleration.
In particular, it should be noted that the harmonic progression in bars 4969
can be explained through the following chordal paths:
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1
75
} }
} }
} } } }
7
Schenkers terminology articulates a distinction between a group comprising a number of themes
(das zweite Gedankenganze) and the components of such a group (here, an eigentlicher zweiter Gedanke
and a Schlugedanke).
{ {
Fig. 1a shows the succession of harmonies IIIIII, with exchange of 56 and the
requisite chromaticism; accordingly, the assumption of independent harmonies
VI and VII is superuous. Fig. 1b gives the same succession, with the exception of
the inversion of the rst chord. In Fig. 1c, four-part writing supplies a bass voice,
and the picture thereby becomes similar to that at a): but since the chromatic
motion is, according to plan, reserved for the Urlinie that stretches above, the
freely-moving bass takes the opportunity to seek out, in between, the roots lying
a third lower [than the chromatic tones a
2
and b
2
], to which it moves in corre-
sponding passing motionsno harmonic degrees here! (See Freier Satz, sec-
tion on Auskomponierung.)
8
Accordingly the chord in bar 51 is only accidental,
formed from the coincidence of the passing tone g in the bass and the neighbor-
ing note b
,
2
in the upper voice. The path from a
,
1
to a
1
demands two groups of
three bars [Takttriolen], since the arpeggiation is discarded before bars 51 and 54.
This abbreviation serves the aim of the development, as, likewise, do the succes-
sion of disturbances shown in the sketch of bars 63, which come out even in a
ten-bar unit (5 2) and an eight-bar one.
In bar 81, a half-cadence. Then the tone e is transferred to a higher register (e
3
enters in place of e
1
): it is necessary to raise the register of the following content.
The graph shows how passing motions and neighboring tones even simulate har-
monic degrees over a pedal-point (cf. Freier Satz, section on Orgelpunkt).
9
Fi-
nally (bars 93100), the line falls from e
3
to a
,
,
2
upon which tone the reprise be-
gins. Precisely in this group of bars, in order to prepare the return of the rst
subject, the basic feature [of presenting Urlinie tones in weak positions] comes
forward particularly sharplysee d
,
3
, c
3
, b
,
2
in the weak bars 96, 98, 100. It is now
no longer chord progressions that produce this eect, but a fth-progression in
the bass, thus a passing motion from the fundamental tone C to F. Among the
auxiliary chords (bars 95, 97, 99), only the middle one (bar 97) manages to sim-
ulate a dominant to the following main chord, as though VI in F minor, while
the striving of the others for the same appearance founders on the higher re-
quirement of the tonality (cf. Freier Satz, section on Knotenpunkte)
10
particu-
larly so in bar 95, where the tonal C of the bass does not give way to {30} the c
,
required for the character of a dominant.
11
(About false interpretations of this
chord, see the discussion of the literature.)
Bars 101. In the reprise, the diminution at bar 111 is striking; it is to be under-
stood thus:
In Fig. 2a the origins can be seen: the chromatic alteration of the minor third for
the purpose of tonicization, accompanied by the lowering of g to g
,
; Fig. 2b now
shows the third voice as the lowest. True to the basic feature, the tones fall in weak
bars here, toosee a
,
,
2
g
,
2
, f
2
in bars 110, 112, 114. How this technique also takes
hold of the lowest voice, with tying-over [suspensions in parallel tenths], is espe-
cially beautiful to see. Accordingly, appearances deceive in bars 11112: the chord
is formed by passing
9
7, and is thus no independent
5
,3-chord on E
,
. That the gure
in the right hand nevertheless strikes out from b
,
2
is to be understood as a re-
sponse to c
3
of bar 107. (For a similarly free elaboration, see for example Mozarts
Piano Sonata in D major, K. 311, Andante, bar 37.) In bars 11516, the diminution
indulges in a motive of its own: e
2
f
2
g
2
a
,
2
, which works itself loose from the
turning gure, as it were, and is imitated by the left hand. The repetition in bars
11718 establishes the facts of the matter unambiguously.
Regarding the stretching out of the fth in bars 14244 and nally bars 146
47, see what has been said about bars 43. But here at the end, as the example
shows, the leap of a fth stirs up yet a last full-edged unrolling of the falling
fth-progression c
3
f
2
, suitable for a coda, and the basic feature of the movement
accompanies even this one to the very end!
For deeper study, I warmly recommend that you represent the content for
yourself in a reduction of durational values, as shown below. This will aord in-
structive insight, especially into the reinterpretation of weak bars as strong ones.
The picture so attained also might be reinterpreted as a metrical schema:

_
|
_
|
_ _
|
_ _
, etc.
tonwi lle 2
76
8
An early version of this treatise, in the Oster Collection, species a chapter on Auskomponier-
ung; in the nal version of Der freie Satz, 247, on Auswerfen eines Grundtones (addition/extrap-
olation of a root), is relevant to this discussion.
9
An early version of this treatise (Oster Collection) species a paragraph on pedal points; see also
Harmonielehre, 16970.
10
Nodal points are not specically mentioned in Der freie Satz, but they are discussed in Kontra-
punkt ii, part 3, chapter 2, 2.
11
[S]Compare, for example, Beethovens Op. 53, rst movement, development, bars 104.
from which an understanding will be gained, in this respect as well, of the rhyth-
mic freedom of the whole.
Second Movement (Adagio)
The form of this Adagio is four-part:
A1 bars 116
modulation and B1 bars 16(17)30
return modulation bar 31
A2 bars 3247
B2 bars 4861
In the graph, p. 78, the upper line represents the Urlinie, while the system located
below it presents the rst unrolling of it. The pulse of the Urlinie beats with slow
solemnity, and one grasps how diminutions need not {31} represent any contra-
diction of the character of an adagio. (The younger generation of composers
err when they feel entitled to demand only oh-so-solemn song of an adagio,
whether with chorales thrown in or notBruckner, for exampleand oer at
best superuous arpeggiations and other sonic drapery as a substitute for dimi-
nution. What an adagio calls for, above all, is just long-distance hearing [Fern-
hren], which allows the gifted to part the waves of diminution safely.)
Bars 1. A1 has a little three-part song form; a
1
, bars 18, with full cadence, more-
over has an antecedent and consequent. In bar 6 of the consequent, the Urlinie
wafts up to an upper neighboring note (b
,
1
). At the same moment, in the lower
gure we see the Urlinie reaching back another third higher, so that the line, now
falling from d
2
to f
1
, presents two rounds of thirds (referred to by the numbers 1
and 2), the basic third [b
,
1
a
1
g
1
] and one wrapped around it [d
2
c
2
b
,
1
], as it
were. The actual elaboration goes further still, surrounding the tone d
2
with a sig-
nicant circle of tones and harmonies. It does no harm to the diminution, of
coursehere no more than at any other pointthat it produces a progression
of harmonic degrees at the same time, without detriment to the fundamental
sense: even if the dependent harmonies weigh heavily upon the diminution and
it appears as though Urlinie and diminution were separating, in reality the fun-
damental power to show the way is reserved to the former alone.
12
Bars 9. In the b section, the tone b
,
, lately whispered as a mere neighbor-note
sigh, is now installed, in its capacity as seventh of the dominant, as a tone of equal
rank in the Urlinie, as though [this segment of] the Urlinie actually began with
this tone. (Hence we have the illusion of a mere two-part song form, a
1
: bars 18,
a
2
: bars 916.) An ascending register transfer also occurs in this section. The usual
exchange of voices proceeds above the dominant, and on the third quarter of bar
10 the diminution even nds occasion to refer to bars 12 in sixteenths (reduced
note values).
Bars 13. In a
2
, which resembles just the consequent of a
1
, the wrapping [of
thirds], made possible only by the register transfer, reaches still higher; the leap
fd across bars 5|6 is lled out, so that three rounds of thirds can be distin-
guished in the falling line. Note the slight alteration in the rhythmic arrange-
ment of the harmonies in comparison to bars 59, which attests to the masters
feeling for variety.
Bars 16. The F major tonic is reinterpreted immediately as the IV of C major.
In bars 1720 the upper line expresses just a stationary f in a neighbor-note
conguration f(eg)f, in that f
3
and e
3
could well have stood in for d
3
and
c
3
. Corresponding to this is the harmonys dwelling on D; for the chord on A
is merely an upper-fth divider, dedicated to the two neighbor notes in the
middle (I[V]I in D minor). In a similar fashion the D harmony ts in as an
extended component (II) in the modulatory cadence introduced in bar 16; and
when the diminution at last clearly acknowledges the tone f
2
in bar 21, it then
becomes all the more clear that the Urlinie has hovered on this tone since bar 16.
(It would be a mistake to mark Beethoven down for antiparallel motion in the
transition from bar 16 to bar 17; such steps are indispensable in free com-
position, where even similar motion to a perfect interval is often justied, not
only because of the formal division but also on grounds of harmonic progres-
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1
77
12
[S]The motives stretch out as far as six quarter-notes from the third quarter-note of this bar to
the third quarter-note of the bar after next; but I have omitted to indicate these relationships in the
musical example, because their entries often aect only lling tones and not Urlinie ones.
sion; cf. Kontrapunkt II, pp. 196/pp. 142, and Freier Satz, section on Oene
Folgen.)
13
Bars 21. The older masters often just juxtaposed the modulatory passage, together
with the beginning part of the main subject in the new key, to a main subject (see,
for example, Bachs {32} Italian Concerto, rst movement), and Beethoven pro-
ceeds exactly in this way in the Adagio. Apart from dierent ornamentation
(which in any case is not easily noticed), the basic motive of bars 12 is also the
content of the B1 section. And more than this, the B1 section matches completely
with the preceding modulation and preparation of the seventh (f before e) in bars
916, as though b and a
2
of the A1 section merely wanted to repeat themselves
here, though in the new key of C major. But do not overlook the dierences: the
extension of bars 2225 (in comparison to bars 1314) and the newly altered
rhythmic arrangement of the harmonies. From bar 27 on the main motive even
comes out clearly, as a result of which something like the eect of a coda is es-
tablished. The outcome for the Urlinie consists only in the ascending leading tone
b

, which has the eect of a neighbor note until the recalled b

,
of the return mod-
ulation makes a bridge to the main motive and therewith to the A2 section.
Bars 48. One need only imagine an a instead of f (by substitution) in the Urlinie
in bars 4849 in order to recognize that bars 48 are specically meant to repre-
sent B2. In bar 59, the dominant chord is suspended above the tonic, which
gured-bass doctrine calls the chord of the major seventh.
Third Movement (Menuetto [Allegretto])
Bars 1. The form, in the rst part as well as the Trio, is the usual three-part one.
The turn-like gure around a
,
1
in bars 14, like that around c
2
in bars 58
(echoed, in quarter-note diminution, in the left hand in bars 3 and 7), prevents
us from recognizing at once that the Urlinie (see p. 79), beginning with a
,
1
, just
passes lightly over the ridge of neighboring notes b
,
1
(bar 1) and d
,
2
(bar 5); but
precisely in this lies the nely veiled charm of this discovery. The line climbs from
a
,
1
to e
,
2
and falls by the same route. As can be seen from the sketch in the top line
[of the Urlinie graph], a progression of two voices in thirdsnot considering the
basscomes about within this turn-like gure; but since these voices both tra-
verse the interval of a fth (a
,
e
,
the upper, fc the lower), a single nodal-point of
a fth cannot possibly obtain for both, so that a change of harmony must inter-
vene here to make an articulationin this case, due to the form, even a modula-
tion, from F minor to A
,
major. (Note, by the way, that such a quick modulation
tonwi lle 2
78
13
This topic, which concerns consecutive octaves, fths and unisons, is assigned a large chapter
in an early version of the treatise (Oster Collection); in the nal version of Der freie Satz, perfect con-
sonances and voice-leading problems connected with them are discussed in 15664.
was also common in the dances of older suites, for example.) If we now add the
bass of the actual realization to these two voices,
we observe, to our surprise, how the melody, snaking its way up in thirds and so
traversing the turn gure, departs from the upper voice of the gure, which pro-
ceeds basically by step, and thereby eliminates the consecutive fths. In bar 10, d
,
2
of the Urlinie is replaced by f
2
in fact, because the succession d
,
2
c
2
has already
occurred in the inner voice on the rst and second quarter notes of the same bar.
At the repetition of this place, bar 12, the master leaves out the fundamental tone,
in order to avoid a superuous thickness of texture.
Bars 15. For the sake of the form, another (chromatic) modulation must be as-
sumed in the b section. In bar 20, the elision of the bass recurs. A modulation by
reinterpretation leads back to the main tonality in bar 24, in which an obbligato
outer-voice progression results from the unison passage (see the graph of the
Urlinie), whose upper voice presents, in response to the falling fth-progression
e
,
2
a
,
1
(of bars 9), the fth-progression a step lower, d
,
2
g
1
, and whose lower
voice presents a contrapuntal bass (as well as harmonic) progression.
Bars 29. The a
2
section promises to go like the a
1
. But a counterplay appears to
throw all that out the window, until we become aware, in bar 31, that this time the
line undergoes an abbreviation. {33} It climbs only as far as d
,
(bar 31)and ba-
sically only as far as c if we prefer to hear d
,
3
as the upper neighbor to c
3
. Conse-
quently all three parts of the song form play out falling fth-progressions, of
which the second and third each begin a tone lower. In bar 34, in the bass, an ex-
tremely eective leaping over the tone A
,
(as sixth-chord of I) and an immediate
seizing of the

IV
7
evidently a stroke of impatience and passion (note the
sforzato accents piled on over the forte).
Trio
Bars 41. The lines of the trio, ascending as well as descending, reach only as far
as a third and thus follow faster in counterplay upon one another (in bars 4144).
In the consequent, which presents a modulation along with the inversion of
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1
79
voices, the ascending line is stretched out in the bass, while the descending one
applies another wrapping of a third (f
2
d
2
), before presenting the actual contin-
uation of bars 4344 with d
2
b
1
in bars 4849.
In the b section, bar 51, two lines are in counterpoint to one another. Here the
ascending one shows a striving, through the chaining together of two extensions
of a third,
V___
egb
,
, to reach the seventh of the dominant, which so much demands
a reversal of direction. Next, the tone a (bar 54), merely on a detour by way of the
falling line, makes contact with b
,
in bar 57; only on the second approach (which,
for the reasons just explained, has an eect of close position, but nonetheless in
reality represents an inversion) does the ascending line reachalthough a far-
reaching diminution that extinguishes the tendency toward inversion in its pro-
gressions in thirds and then
6
3
-chordsa and b
,
themselves in the higher octave
in bars 6061. A compensatory descent at last brings b
,
1
, with whichas though
the line had remained from the beginning in the one-line octavecomes the cue
for the a
2
section.
In respect of diminution technique, notice that this proceeds as in Fig. 5a in
ascent, and as in Fig. 5bexactly the same, only invertedin descent:
except that Fig. 5a introduces the step of a second into the line, whereas Fig. 5b
introduces two tones. In bars 6165, it is actually Fig. 5b that is in eect:
bar 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 |
b
,
a g f | e f e d c d | c | b

|b
,
|
and this alone is the reason why the last dotted half notes are experienced more
as a (written-out) ritardando of the whole action than as the earlier counterpoint
(bars 5153 and 5557)although certainly no ear can resist this allusion either.
Fourth Movement (Prestissimo)
The last movement is to be considered as a sonata form, even despite the unusual
appearance of the development section, which assumes a three-part song form.
The latter is not out of place here, probably less because the return-modulation
section conforms to the characteristics of a usual development, than because the
only general prescription that can reasonably given for the organization of a de-
velopment is to arrange it so that it works as a wedge, creating tension between
the exposition and the recapitulation (cf. Harmonielehre, pp. 10/pp. 9 ). {34}
Bars 1. The rst subject shows antecedent and consequent, of which the latter is
linked to the modulation to C minor. The colorful motivic and harmonic bustle
in the antecedent, bars 19, stems, as the graph of the Urlinie on p. 81 shows (for
the sake of importance and clarity I have set this place apart in a line of its own),
from the mutual opposition of a fourth- and a fth-progression in the outer
voices. Given the dierent numbers of tones, the two outer voices naturally do
not keep step with one another (cf. Freier Satz for the many possibilities for
mastering this awkwardness).
14
Here the master takes the following course:
against e
,
2
of the upper voice he sets two tones of the lower, g and a
,
(sixth and
fth)so that there would have been the possibility from here on of linking
the diminutions with 31 or 108 for the course of the remaining simultaneities
d
,
c
b
,
c
; but, under the spell of the motives will to repetition (see the brackets in the
lower system), he feels entitled to repeat ga
,
of the fth-progression immedi-
ately and even to expend the last two tones of the fourth-progression on it, and
for the same reason nally to repeat this, too (with an exchange of the two pro-
gressions). Notice in particular how the basic motive, which expresses the leap of
a fth (f
2
c
3
) in the time span of eight quarter notes (from the second beat of the
rst bar to the second beat of the third), is first repeated in the same span, but
then, in the continuation from the second beat of bar 5, there is an abbreviation
of the motive (the leap of a fourth in just four quarter notes), whose more fre-
quent repetitions provide rhythmic balance (4 4 bars 2 8; see the larger
brackets in bars 59). Particularly eective is the fact that, at the moment of com-
pensation, the upper voice recalls the leap of a fth again, even from upbeat to
upbeat!
It is understandable that such a contrary disposition of the two linear pro-
gressions must also provide an illusion of harmonic degrees (here, in eect, III
VI). But truer to the facts is the fth-progression, which is able to explain these
chords without exception as harmonic accidents of the voice-leading; it is the
form that bids us accept

IV before V.
tonwi lle 2
80
__


14
The simultaneous movement of linear progressions with unequal numbers of tones is dis-
cussed in Der freie Satz in 228.
Bars 9. The consequent begins in this bar, as is determined above all by the entry
of a new segment of the Urlinie. Compared to this, it avails little that the rhythm
of the motive obviously reaches back to that of bars 5. If one recognizes in bars
12 a counterpart to bar 8 (on account of the motivic tension from downbeat to
downbeat; see the bracket in the upper line), then for exactly this reason one can
very well describe the consequent as an imitation of the antecedent of bars 15,
shortened in the haste of modulation. If the motive nally returns in the original
time span of eight quarter notes, from the second beat of bar 13 on, then it is justi-
able only to speak of a rearrangement of the rhythmic progressions here. The an-
tecedent takes in four large brackets, whereas the consequent, with modulation
appended, runs to six, of which the latter is emphatically further extended.
Bars 22. The cadence of the modulation comes to its conclusion with e
,
1
of the
Urlinie in bar 22. What follows is the second subject. Its point is to present a con-
clusion to the line of the consequent and modulation, a
,
e
,
, with the leading tone
and tonic dc. As if on cue, the master passionately grasps the tone a
,
, precisely
the head of this very line, as early as the second quarter of this concluding bar
(bar 22) and sets the line in motion. In a whirl of the two beginning notes (a
,
and
g) the momentum is increased and there is a wild push into the upper octave,
above e
,
2
in bar 24. Only with a
,
2
, regained in bar 26, is the accumulated pressure
discharged into a line, which roars down to the tonic note, {35} sweeps the as-
cending leading tone along with it, and only in this way throws o the weight of
two harmonic cycles. But the greed for height and more height thirsts unap-
peased: the line begins with c, rages its way down through the space of an octave
(the realization resorts to the lower octave for purely pianistic reasons), and then
begins again (bar 34) with e
,
3
, from which point it hurtles down a tenth!
15
In the
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1
81
15
In this sentence c lacks a registral superscript. Probably it should be c
3
, to mediate between
the a
,
2
found in bar 26 and the e
,
3
asserted for bar 34; the absence of this c
3
is acknowledged, however
obscurely, by Schenkers remark about a purely pianistic resort to the lower octave. It should
be noted, however, that the e
,
3
that denes the ascent (and the greed for height) is likewise imagi-
nary; also that this ascent is represented, not by the pitch succession on either treble sta of the graph
of the Urlinie (the higher one presumably the Urlinie, the lower an elaboration, as explained in the
latter place the realization shows three falling lines that could even be taken for
the actual one; the rst is still in the lower octave, like bars 30, until Urlinie and
realization nd themselves in the same register in bar 36. But directly in conse-
quence of the fact that larger values of the Urlinie, as if in reection, are con-
cealed behind the rushing quarter notes of the realization, this place has the won-
derful overtone of an indeed passionate, yet at the same time secretly borne, song
that agitates and soothes at once, a painfully animated adagio in the midst of the
Prestissimo. It is chiey this secret eect that leads the listener (see also the dis-
cussion of the literature) to believe the second subject to be only here. Attached
in the most abrupt way, the last line of course presents no more than the suc-
cession e
,
dc, and only now are we able to feel the ery will of the tone e
,
1
in
bar 22,
16
which does not rest until followed, as though immediately, by the de-
scending leading tone and the tonic. What long-distance hearing! What impro-
visatory art of the young master!
Bars 50. These bars must be spoken of as a closing subject. The line indulges only
in the exchange of ascending leading tone and tonic, while the basic motivein
its blind rage, one might saywhips up the storm again.
Bars 59. These bars constitute a
1
of the three-part song form. In groups of ten
bars, the line runs through the fth from e
,
2
to a
,
1
in two progressions (see the
Urlinie), of which the second is accelerated. But in spite of all this stimulation, it
remains the case that the line, commencing with e
,
, now also provides relaxation
and resolution of the line of the second subject beginning from the same tone, to
which e
,
has become a true daemon, through contrasts: there the distance and
abruptness of plummets (sixth, octave, tenth), here the brevity (fth) and gentle
inclination (in fourths) of hesitant descents; there C minor coming from F minor,
here A
,
major leading back to F minor.
Bars 79. The line in the b-section of the song form shows even more onsets than
in the a
1
section: It reaches d
,
2
rst, in bar 80, takes c
2
only in the second attempt,
as it were, in bar 82, claries the path in bars 8386, and thereby strikes a bridge
to a
2
, whose individual linear progressions then land on still lower tones, at b
,
1
and nally a
,
1
.
Bars 109. This passage reveals its meaning only through consideration of the
Urlinie. The last fourth-progression, d
,
3
a
,
2
in bars 1089, suggests a further de-
scent, and there follows c
3
a
,
,
2
then b
,
2
e
2
, which together amount to just c
3
e
2
.
But what force the master applies, in this passage of octaves, to conne the Ur-
linie just to the higher octave! The harmonic progression also deserves particular
attention, because of a particularly outstanding trait; here is an outline:
Generally such a sequence of chords merely serves the purposes of passing mo-
tion, in which the exchange 56, including the chromatic notes, helps to avoid
consecutive fths; but here the master exploits the same sequence for harmonic
degrees and modulation, he merely suppresses the fourth chord, and instead sur-
rounds the fth all the more powerfully with neighbor-note chords before nally
turning the inner voice into the upper voice in the last three chords. It is superu-
ous to interpolate a VI between the I and IV, bars 117 and 125, since it is rather the
fth-progression IIV that comprehends the progression more logically (see
Freier Satz).
17
{36}

Ayouthful poem of Beethovens, how inspired, classicalGerman! As with the

youthful Mozart, whose Sonata in A minor was discussed earlier in this volume,
so with the youthful Beethoven we see the overwhelming appearance of a syn-
tonwi lle 2
82
Adagio), but only by the dotted line that crosses between them. It is surprising that the ascent of
which so much is made is not a feature of the Urlinie, and particularly so that the Urlinie shows lines
an octave lower than those of its erste Aufrollung (be these actual or notional) in bars 26 and 30
could this be to connect with e
,
1
in bar 22 (cf. the likewise unsuperscripted e
,
-d-c later in the para-
graph, and the ery will of e
,
1
)? It is nally not inconceivable that the absence of a superscript rep-
resents deliberate equivocation rather than a typographical error.
16
Den ammenden Willen des Tones es
1
in T. 22 nachzufhlen: an allusion to the series title. We are
said to be able to feel the tones will only when it is fullledthat is, apparently, we are not expected
to sense, from the moment we encounter e
,
1
, what would full its intentions (namely d
1
-c
1
), and ac-
tively (sympathetically with the tone) to listen for this completion through the music that intervenes.
Possessed of Fernhren, Beethoven is represented as able to do this. The conjunction of these impor-
tant concepts makes vivid the identication of distance hearing with the recognition of long-range
succession, more than with the long-range sustaining of an individual tone: what is prolonged here
is not the tone e
,1
but the motion e
,1
d
1
c
1
.
17
Der freie Satz does not address this issue; but see Harmonielehre, 12528 and 131.
thesis conceived from the deepest sources. Nothing in the outward existence of
the tones betrays the mysterious relationships that rule within, which no ear has
yet received, no tongue named. The lines show logical consistency in themselves
and in relation to one another. Resting in its own laws, the diminution neverthe-
less places itself at the disposal of the harmonies, of the line, helping with the part
as with the whole, cohering and remaining distinct. What range of hearing in the
passing motions, the broadly laid out fourth- and fth-progressions, and what
art, too, in the constant changes of realization!

About the autograph manuscript of the sonata, nothing is known.

A sketch [for the rst movement], preserved in the archive of the Gesellschaft
der Musikfreunde in Vienna, is presented by Nottebohm in Zweite Beethoveni-
ana, pp. 564 67.
18
As I refer to the musical example reproduced there, I will now
conne myself to a few observations. In the sketch, the opening bars of the con-
sequent, bars 910, still coincide exactly with bars 1 and 2 of the antecedent,
which at rst conforms to a merely conventional formation of the consequent.
But immediately after the two-bar repetition of the motive come triplet gures!
In the motive
the kernel of the second subject, bars 20, can be recognized, as also can the nal
version of bars 33 in the attached cadential formation. In place of bar 40, there
still stands
a gure that plays motivically on the cadential subject even more clearly than the
nal version, which bases the continuation of the cadential subject on the con-
straints of the Urlinie. Apart from the observation that the middle [of the
sketch] is striking at rst glance for its dierence from the published version. In
the published version the melodic essence predominates, in the sketch passage-
work (p. 566), which is refuted by what has just been put forward, Nottebohm
describes the sketch accurately.
The principal subject of the Adagio originates in a piano quartet in C major,
composed in Bonn in 1785.
19
But what progress from the consequent formation in
the quartet, which merely repeats the harmonic progression IV of bar 2, to that
in the sonata, which also gets IV into the progression and performs two cycles!
20

As in my Erluterungsausgaben of the last ve Beethoven sonatas,

21
I intend in
Tonwille, too, to give a textual report of my edition of the remaining sonatas,
where possible.
22
This immediately brings up the last and most dicult questions
of the given content, as well as of musical culture in general. As little as one may
say of Beethoven himself that he was merely practicing musical philology when
he sought the best notation, improved slurs, etc., just as little may the work of an
editor in this matter be regarded as philology. It is rather of a {37} purely artistic
nature, and demands the full interest of all those who want to make the content
of the work of art truly their own.
My edition of the sonata (Universal Edition No. 4010) is based on the origi-
nal edition of Artaria (1796, oblong and vertical formats), as well as the edition of
Lischke (Berlin, Edition correcte, 1797).
23
[In the Allegro,] the upbeat quarter note to bar 1 has no staccato dot in either
edition, and it is the same in bars 8 and 48; thus it is hardly to be taken as a printers
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1
83
18
Gustav Nottebohm, Zweite Beethoveniana: nachgelassene Aufstze, ed. Eusebius Mandyczewski
(Leipzig: Rieter-Biedermann, 1887); the Vienna leaf bears the signature A31.
19
The work belongs to a set of three early piano quartets (WoO 36), not published in Beethovens
lifetime. Themes from the opening Allegro vivace were reused in another Op. 2 sonata, no. 3 in C
major.
20
The progression to which the sonata adds IV is specically the progression of the rst two mea-
sures of the consequent (the consequent in the piano quartet does include IV in its third bar); but the
two cycles of Stufen occur over the entire phrase.
21
[S]Universal Edition 3974 3978. [The projected Erluterungsausgabe of Op. 106 (3975) was
never completed, partly because Schenker was unable to locate the autograph manuscript (which to
this day has not been traced).]
22
Schenkers edition of the remaining Beethoven piano sonatas (192123) coincided with the
publication of Tonwille, and at one time he contemplated what he termed an Urlinieausagabe of these
works; this essay may represent the companion text of such an edition. There is no text-critical com-
mentary in Schenkers next (and last) essay on a Beethoven sonata, that of Op. 57 in F minor (Ton-
wille 6).
23
In common with most eighteenth-century piano music, Artarias rst edition (plate-number
614) was published only in oblong format; the edition in tall format dates from about 1830, and takes
over the rms original plate-number. Beethoven would not have had any involvement either with this
later edition, or that of Lischke (plate-number 940).
error, but much more as the composers intention for a particular execution (see
below). On a
,
2
and b
,
2
in bars 2 and 4, there is no sf in either editionfor why
this expression, when the line is only hesitantly starting out? But the sfs appear,
with justication, in bars 102 and 104 of the reprise, where the forte changes the
situation. On the occasion of the grace note in bar 5, let it be said once and for all
that both editions notate grace notes exclusively with ,, ,, or , (that is, not with
a slash through the stemcf. Ornamentik pp. 33/pp. 69).
24
In bar 13, the legato
slur is likewise taken over from both editions; it would be conceivable that Bee-
thoven wrote it this way for the sake of the upper voice, and with the intention of
a contrast to the articulation of the inner voice in bar 12. In bars 3336, the slur-
ring in Artaria and Lischke, which can obviously be traced back to misunderstood
slurring at a change of system in the manuscript, is wrong and should be disre-
garded. A series of later editions attempt to make the run in bars 33 correspond
to that in bars 132 (of the recapitulation), on the assumption that Beethoven
would have done it this way if his instrument had gone higher than f
3
. But it is
rmly established that the master always expressly forbade alterations in his pieces,
no matter on what basis they may have been attempted. Anyone who understands
the law of the obligatory leading of registers will certainly grasp that Beethoven,
playing the registers o against one another, at the same time composed with the
limits of the instrument, so to speak, right from the start, and it would be a mat-
ter for the genius of another Beethoven to rearrange these limits and newly ad-
just these registers. In bar 47, there is a change to the bass clef in the left hand, ac-
cording to Artaria and Lischke, which certainly leads more suitably than the
treble clef back to bar 1 as well as onward to the beginning of the development.
In bar 62, the next-to-last eighth note must be a d
,
(thus also in Artaria and
Lischke), not d as in many later editions; only the succession d
,
2
c
2
b
1
corre-
sponds to the succession of chords (see the graph of the Urlinie): on the down-
beat of bar 62, the third above the root B
,
is d
,
and not d.
25
The articulation of
the bass in bar 69, as well as in bar 71, corresponds to that of the rst edition: it
serves to bring out the rhythmic opposition of the motive in the right hand [to
that in the left hand]. The way in which Beethoven himself tears open the eighth-
note beam at the second quarter of bar 80 (see also Artaria and Lischke) reveals
to us how, in composing and playing, he was fully conscious that f
1
here enters a
quarter note earlier than the half-notes in the preceding measures. In bars 1078,
>and p disappear, since not only the forte from bar 101 on, but also the altered
arrangement of the left hand in bars 1067, no longer permit the same course of
events as in bars 78. The articulation in bars 11516 creates diculties. It does
not work well to put the turning gure of the right hand under one slur with the
following quarter notes, even though this appears to clarify the nascent motive e
fga
,
. Add to this that {38} only by division of the slurs can the contrast be
brought out between bar 115 and bars 11718, where the motive running in even
quarter notes in both the right and left hands can only ttingly be placed under
one slur. Moreover, Artaria and Lischke do not agree: in Artaria, several other
printing errors have also crept in, in bar 115, and, in particular, the slur that ap-
pears under the sixteenth-note tripletagain an indication that there could not
also have been a second, longer slur over the gure in Beethovens manuscript
may have caused later editors to tie over the whole-note b
1
, which, through over-
sight in the earlier plates, unfortunately still remains in my edition, too. With ref-
erence to the slurs in bar 136, Artaria and Lischke, with whom I concur, are in
the right, as against later editors, who include the rst quarter note of bar 140:
after a slur is in force for so long, the last note of the run must be left out of the
slur, if it is to be signicant as such.
In bar 28 of the Adagio, my edition shows the slur on the second quarter note
in the left hand below the run, and not above it, as in Artaria and Lischke; thereby
tonwi lle 2
24
The relevant section is entitled The Short Appoggiatura in the Works of Haydn, Mozart, and
Beethoven. Schenker is mistaken about the notation of grace-notes in Artaria: the rst edition, which
has been reproduced in facsimile (in Ludwig van Beethoven: The 32 Piano Sonatas, in Reprints of the
First and Early Editions, 5 vols. [London: Tecla, 1989]), consistently uses an eighth note with slashed
stem to indicate a grace-note.
25
[S]All this is overlooked by [Carl] Reinecke (Die Beethovenschen Clavier-Sonaten[: Briefe an
eine Freundin], 1894 [recte: 1895; the translator had access to the eighth edition, Leipzig: Gebrder
Reinecke, 1920]), who takes a stand for d, without even being able to convince himself.
[In fact the relevant passage, on pp. 3132, conveys Reineckes doubts at least as clearly as his pref-
erence for d

:
It remains an open question, whether it should be d
,
or d in the fourteenth bar of the sec-
ond part. The last half measure refers distinctly to C minor, and if one wants to strip bars 13
and 14 of their ornamentaion, then the following very natural harmony results:
But it is not impossible that Beethoven imagined the c delayed by d
,
. Admittedly, in the pe-
riod in which he wrote this Sonata, he called for such harshness only rarely. In any case it
seems to me risky to state categorically that d
,
should be recognized as the correct read-
ing. If Beethoven may have forgotten the

before d only two bars laterit is missing from

Artaria in both bars 64 and 66why can he not have forgotten it here too?]
j
,
,
,
,
, , , , , ,

,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
84
the appearance is avoided of the slur beginning only with A. According to Artaria
and Lischke the place of the pp in bar 31 is controversial; Artaria attaches it to f
1
,
Lischke to g
1
in the second quarter note in the right hand; to me, in contrast, this
embarrassment gives the impression that the composer merely felt hindered by
the closely placed staves from writing the pp right at the beginning of the second
quarter, where it appears best to belong, due to the seventh (in the left hand) that
eects the return modulation.
No less dicult is the question of the slur in bar 32: Artaria shows the slur
over the 2nd and 3rd quarters, Lischke over the entire bar. If one considers that
an upbeat with the value of a quarter note precedes bar 1, that in contrast a two-
quarter-note gure (under a slur) enters in place of the quarter note in bar 31,
then the version in Artaria may be justied, which, for the sake of equilibrium,
articulates the rst quarter note of bar 32 independently. In bar 42, I follow both
rst editions exactly with respect to the slur. If this may appear unusual in con-
sideration of the fact that the second quarter note presents the resolution of the
suspension of a fourth, which as such should be slurred to the suspension, it is
again the large number of notes in the second and third quarter notes that re-
quires, as it were, taking a new breath on the second quarter note.
About the bass in bar 52 there is a long and amusing story. As is well known,
the old practice was to place the extension dot at the point at which the exten-
sion should occur, and so Beethoven wrote the extending dot in bar 52 under the
fth eighth note. But obviously his dot came out too fat,
26
and this alone has
suced to throw almost all editors from Artaria to the present into confusion.
Because they do not know to connect this supposed notehead with the previous
one, they write:
My correction does away with the problem, yet given this opportunity I cannot
refrain from calling attention to the wonderful notation in the right hand: {39}
the way in which Beethoven takes pains there to write the eighth-note passage in-
tended for the right hand in the bass sta (he makes a point of laying great value
on such a distinction), then beams the last eighth note with the sixteenth-note
gure, for the sake of performance, but nonetheless still extends the slur as far as
f ! (With the transfer of the eighth-note passage into the treble clef, as given in all
later editions, the beauty of the notation is unfortunately lost.) In bar 59 neither
Artaria nor Lischke shows a tie between the two g
2
s of the right hand; here in fact
is a turn gure between two notes (g
2
and a
2
), whose ending-tone is merely as-
sumed into large notation and presented at the appropriate place (cf. Ornamen-
tik, pp. 58/pp. 114 ).
27
In bar 28 of the Menuetto, my edition follows the rst editions; through pres-
entation of the motive in the treble clef, the connection with the preceding bars
comes to light more strikingly (see, for example, the Erluterungsausgabe of
Op. 101, rst movement, bar 16 and also bar 30). In bars 5962, Artaria gives Bee-
thovens ngering (it is not in Lischke; more on this below).
In bar 10 of the Prestissimo, in Artaria and Lischke, no sux to the trill. In
bar 34, c
1
of the right hand in Artaria and Lischke without e
,
: particularly exqui-
site is the very fact that e
,
rst appears on the upbeat, but now over c and indeed
as though through inversion of the suppressed lower sixth. The two rst editions
also know nothing of the dots and slurs above the upbeat quarter notes in bars
34, 36, and 38; thus Beethoven intentionally reserved this expression until bars 40
and 41. With the repeat sign in bar 59, I follow the rst editions; one has the duty
to recognize such a fact about the history of the sonata, without of course allow-
ing oneself to be misled by it in understanding the sonata form. Bars 11112: the
right hand without slurs in Artaria and Lischke. In bar 161, obviously an oversight
in the manuscript or in the rst editions, which put all the quarter notes of the
left hand together under one slur.
28

Beethovens freedom in performance is testied to by pupils and contempo-

raries (think, for example, of Czerny, Ries, Schindler, etc.). Ifas I repeat for the
umpteenth timeI take absolute exception to every such judgment of Beetho-
vens work and playing, it remains possible nonetheless to accept their testimony
for Beethovens freedom in playing, which they perceived without knowledge of
the content, I might say purely by eye and feel. For the master must have expressed
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1
85
26
[S]One often encounters such a mishap in Beethovens work, e.g. in the Lebewohl Sonata,
Op. 81a, bar 3 of the rst Allegro; in Op. 101, bar 52 of the rst movement, etc.
27
The section referred to is entitled: The Turn in the Works of the Later Masters.
28
That is, there should be a slur from the second quarter of bar 161 to the end of bar 162; curi-
ously, this slur is missing from Schenkers own edition of the sonata.
the new content so individually and newly through the manner of his treatment
of the keyboard in touch and the play of shadows, in legato and ngering, even in
the carriage and movement of his body, etc., that it really would not have been
dicult for his contemporaries to perceive freedom. One who knows, of course,
can easily dismiss such testimonyall the more easily, inasmuch as the eye- and
earwitnesses, having grasped nothing of the content rightly, report dierent de-
grees of this freedom. To the initiate, the waves of the Urlinie speak of powers at
work in all the turns and twists, repetitions, and pauses, that mock any constraint
of tempo. Added to this is the variety of the diminution, in which the lines ex-
press themselves, and this calls no less for variety in tempo.
In bars 14, the player should not add a hesitation of his own to the one al-
ready expressed by the Urlinie. The acceleration of bars 56 is to be made up for
in bars 78, but the thrusting-forward is only to be stilled insofar as the half ca-
dence and the subsequent fermata require; a more signicant slowing-down (say
from eighth note {40} to eighth note), in contrast, belies the thrusting-forward,
which is still so powerful in the turning of the line that it carries along more Ur-
linie tones in two bars than in all of the six bars preceding. The upbeat c
1
is to be
played with a light portamento touch, as if one wanted to stretch out the sixth
c
1
a
,
1
, which alone, in spite of detours, is what the arpeggiation nally comes to
(see bars 56). Already during the fermata in bar 8, the player, inwardly hearing
ahead, should turn e into e
,
; then he will certainly succeed in bringing the alter-
ation to light through a certain attack in bar 10 without stripping it of its mystery.
He should play bars 11 and 13 with greater weight than bars 12 and 14. In bar 15,
he should have bar 7 in mind, and, on the second and third quarter notes of bar
16, the content of bars 1114, whose abbreviation they are. It is advisable to prac-
tice the threefold repetition of the motive c
2
g
1
in bars 1520 as if omitting the
second and third quarter notes of bars 16 and 18, if one wants to grasp and per-
form the intrusion of these notes properly; in bar 16 they are still joined together
with a separate slur! (The majority of editors know nothing of this connection
and, as early as bar 16, introduce the slur as it will appear in bar 18.)
In the second subject, too, the hesitation and acceleration of the line should
be expressed through corresponding shadings of the basic tempo, but without
slowing down or accelerating too much. One should perform the rst octave
arpeggiation in bars 2021 without rushing, likewise each fourth quarter note in
bars 21 and 23 (despite the impending sf ) and each third quarter note in bars 22
and 24. Supported on the strict rhythm of the bass in bars 33, which by itself
rules out any blurring of the tempo, the right hand may indulge itself all the more
in the run, in the strictest legato, and indeed without reference to the Urlinie
tones, which will already communicate themselves secretly to consciousness
through the intervals on the downbeats. In bar 36, the rst quarter note should
be given a certain emphasis, not only because of the beginning of the legato, but
also on account of the signicance of the seventh, which (see the graph of the Ur-
linie) most clearly indicates the imperfect full cadence in bar 41 (with the third c
in the upper voice coming precisely from d
,
.) Pianists are apt to play octave
arpeggiations like those in the left hand in bar 41 legatoa bad habit that cannot
be condemned enough: put something like this in front of, say, a double bass
player or cellist, actually marked with a legato slur, and (even if he doesnt know
why) he will dismiss both the slur and the scribe.
The closing subject, bars 41, streams forth in the tempo of the second sub-
ject, and tolerates a hesitation only in the closing bars, 4748, insofar as this pro-
motes the rhythmic enlargement of the leap of a fth and its legato performance.
In bars 49, the three-bar groups must enter into the players consciousness.
The diculties in bars 73 can easily be obviated if one rst plays the octave
arpeggiations of the left hand on the rst and third quarter notes, thus unsynco-
pated, and executes them with the recommended ngering; the superiority of the
syncopated version as an aid to a rhythmic animation of the bass will also come to
light thereby. If the syncopated version of the arpeggiations is, on one hand, a con-
sequence of the fact that the motive began on a weak beat (the fourth) in the pre-
ceding bars, they are, on the other hand, in turn the cause of f
1
in the right hand
in bar 80, appearing, likewise, by way of anticipation on a weak quarter note (the
second). Bars 93 proceed in the tempo of the development: consciousness of the
Urlinie tones here saves the trouble of a ritardando and claries the play of ex-
changes between the inner and upper voices, which suggests an orchestral eect.
In bars 1018, one should storm through the phrase with a single stroke, without
doing more than what is absolutely necessary even for the half-cadence and the
fermata in bars 1078. In bars 11518, the motivic imitation should be conveyed
(b
,
1
in the left hand in bar 118 stands for g
1
). {41} If one considers that, in bars 131
34, nothing further is added that would justify the fortissimo, beyond the forte of
bar 33, then it must be said that the fortissimo is less worked out [auskomponiert]
than merely asserted. (In the later creations of the master, such alterations will al-
ways also be grounded compositionally in some way.) In bars 146, the highest
succession of tones is to be played as a summary, in accord with the Urlinie.
The turn [Doppelschlag] in bar 1 of the Adagio must be executed in the fourth
sixteenth of the quarter note; denitive for this is the rhythm of the upbeat ,
tonwi lle 2
86
,

, ,
which must not be gratuitously contradicted with a variant rhythm. Nothing
about this is changed by the grace-note appended to the turn (on the same gure
see also, for example, Mozarts Sonata in D major, K. 311, Andante, bar 43). It is
recommended to bind bars 6 and 7 through dynamics:
in such a way that emphasis is given only to the IV of the second cycle of har-
monies; in spite of this, the rst sixteenth note of bar 7 demands its own expres-
sion as an accented passing note. My preferred execution of the turn in bar 7 is
no longer familiar to the musicians of today; one nds it written out in Beetho-
ven, for example in the Adagio movements of Op. 59, No. 1, [bars 7778,] and
Op. 74, [bars 6869 and 93,] and so on (cf. Ornamentik, pp. 58/pp. 114 ). The
accompaniment in bars 911 must be played legatissimo, in such a way that the
hand can reproduce the upward and downward motion of the gure through
corresponding light motion in a lateral direction. Bars 17 (with upbeat) have to
ow forth in the sense of a modulation in progress, not doing anything like linger
in the sense of a newly starting Trio section or the like (see the discussion of the
literature). At the leap of a sixth at the across bars 2021 one should think of the
upbeat of bar 1 and thus prepare oneself for the variation of the main motive in
bars 2223! The two sf in the right and left hands in bars 2324 are to be played
more quickly one after the other, which in turn is to be accomplished through a
portamento execution of the sixteenth notes of the third beat. In the performance
of the main motive in bars 2728 (also 2930) the sfp must be expressed through
a certain accelerating inclination toward the rst quarter of bar 28; tempo com-
pensation occurs after the sfp. The tone repetition in the sixteenth notes in bar 34
should be brought to a positively verbal expression (cf. Kontrapunkt i, pp. 64/
pp. 42 ). In the guration across bars 37|38, take care to play the [triplet] six-
teenth and the thirty-second on the second eighth of each beat exactly together;
then the remaining tones, too, will automatically nd their right position. In bars
4043, the movement of the left hand as in bars 911. In bar 44, the execution of
the turn as in bar 7. Bars 54 55 and 5657 to be played the same way as bars 29
30. In bar 59, an expressive performance of the inner voice will also support the
crescendo required for the right hand.
Since the prominent tones in bars 14 of the minuet express a turn, the b
,
1
that falls on the rst strong beat deserves an emphasis with >, which must be
heralded by another >on the preceding upbeat quarter note.
bar 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
a
,
| b
,
| a
,
| g | a
,
|| c | d
,
| c | b
,
| c |
> >
(Similar emphasis should be given to the rhythmic reductions in the left hand.)
The eighth-note graces in bars 11 and 13 are of course to be played short, but ex-
pressively, in the value of sixteenth notes (cf. Ornamentik, p. 33/pp. 69 ). In bar
30, the trill transfers the emphasis {42} from the third quarter note to the rst
quarter note of the following bar, and there it remainssee the sfin bars 32
and 33 also. Across bars 34|35, where the sf and p collide, the urgency of tempo and
force must be so increased that, in bar 35, a is expected, rather than a p; but just
in the last moment the pressure exhausts itself, and the last three tones of the Ur-
linie sink into piano in bars 3536, as if suddenly weakened. This eect will be
achieved through a hesitation before the piano, which gives the exuberance an
opportunity to discharge itself into the air, so to speak, instead of into the next
tone. In bar 43, the change of direction in the line should be made expressive. The
4 3 suspension in bar 47 is to be underscored with >, and the increased pro-
gression of harmonic degrees in bar 48 with < >between the second and
third eighth notes of the left hand. My edition communicates Beethovens nger-
ing for bars 5962; in addition, another possible one is suggested in a footnote.
(With regard to other ngerings, see the discussion of the literature.)
Only a rm adherence to the sense of the content, as the Urlinie unveils it, will
enable the player to perform the Prestissimo correctly; otherwise, however much
re there may be in his performance, he will only grope snail-like from place to
place. For faster indeed than any velocity that the human hand can bring about
is the ight of inspiration, such as can vicariously be experienced here. In bars 2
4 the imitation (fef) in the bass must be made clear. In bars 5, a ritardando is
superuous, since the tempo already appears to be slowed down when the triplets
drop out. The trills in bars 910 may be played as short trills [Pralltriller]; with
ve notes even the sux can be dispensed with. The sf accents reserved for bar 19
must be played as hyperintensication. From bar 20 on, the player should indulge
in the strong, but always circumspect, use of the pedal, unrestrained by the
whirling overlaps of the Urlinie (see the graph of the Urlinie). No sooner than he
has touched on a
,
2
in bar 22, he should already be pressing toward e
,
2
in bar 24,
and yet further to the a
,
2
in bar 26, the c
1
in bar 30, and nally the e
,
in bar 34!
And not even the peculiar satisfaction that undoubtedly arises from the attain-
ment of the nal goal in bar 34, as well as from the enlargement of time values
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1
87
(which amounts to a retardation: see the graph of the Urlinie), may calm the
storm. For only by way of a continuous growling will it be possible to reach bars
50 in a mood that will allow these measures to be appended logically. All the
calming eect of the development, bars 59109, one can condently entrust to
the contrast in tonality, accompaniment, abbreviation, and play of the Urlinie. To
the eighth notes of bar 65 one should bring awareness of an progression of fun-
damental tones [Urtnezug] beginning a step lower, and build up ten-bar units as
though along with it. In bar 81, the circumstance of the tonics occurring without
a suspended fourth (c already in the chord) makes a sux to the trill undesirable;
and then likewise in bar 84, for the sake of the parallelism (although it would be
less out of place here). From the repetitions in the higher octave, bars 6978, 87
94, and 1039, the player should create the feeling for their decisive signicance
in bars 11127, too, in order to be able to achieve the right performance of these
passages. In bar 125, in the fortissimo, two Urlinie tones force their way into one
bar for the rst time: the quarter rest in the inner voice here actually serves to give
this new event more emphasis. The imitations from right hand to left hand in
bars 127 should be played with import, and the same performance is repeated in
the concluding bars 199 [recte: 189] as well, although here the imitation is in the
right hand alone. {43}

Now to the literature. If only Beethoven were preserved in its strata of paper, at
least in the way ancient human, animal, and plant remains are in geological
strata, then we would have to be thankful even for that. But neither an outline of
the whole nor a sign of the parts is to be found therein short, not a shadow of
his musical embodiment: woe to anyone who looks there for an impression of
Beethovens spirit!
Czerny (Groe Pianoforte-Schule, part IV) on the rst movement: The charac-
ter of this rst movement is serious and passionately agitated, powerful and de-
cisive, and without any of those gures of piano passagework which otherwise
conventionally separate ideas from one another. The tempo is a lively, yet not too
fast, alla breve. . . .
From the fourth bar of this movement begins a small ritardando and cres-
cendo, which increases up to the fermata. Bars 4144 of the rst part are likewise
to be played with increasing ritardando, and only in the second half of bar 45 does
the tempo reenter decisively. From the twentieth bar of the second part [bar 68],
the following 22 bars are to be performed with ever-increasing power and liveli-
ness, very legato, and at the same time especially expressively in the bass.
29
On the second movement: There now follows, with soothing eect, the gen-
tle Adagio, lled with feeling and melody, to be played in a slow but not dragging
tempo and always cantabile, in which above all a beautiful touch and a strict
legato as well as an absolutely steady tempo is eective. In the following place (bar
37 is quoted), the thirty-second notes of the right hand are to be played very ten-
derly, and completely independently of the sextuplets of the bass.
On the third movement: Moody and lively, so the Allegretto is not to be
taken in the usual restful pace here. The Trio gentle and legato.
In the second part of this Trio, we suggest the following ngering in bars
912:
On the fourth movement: Stormily agitated, almost dramatic, like the depiction
of some kind of serious event. In the rst section, beginning from bar 22, both
hands extremely legato. In bars 3539 crescendo, and the right hand very cantabile.
The rst fty bars of the second section [bars 58107] with tender, restful ex-
pression, but not dragging. From the fty-rst bar [bar 108] on, the original live-
liness.
It is idle to waste even one word on this; for Czerny says nothing. He was
around Beethoven, certainly, and learned people draw far-reaching conclusions
from this, but is not the genius, as a rule, condemned to a circle of people who
have nothing in common with him but physical proximity?
Next come two composition teachers, one older, one more recent:
tonwi lle 2
88
29
Carl Czerny, Die Kunst des Vortrags der lteren und neueren Clavierkompositionen, oder: Die
Fortschritte bis zur neuesten Zeit, Supplement (oder 4ter Theil) zur grossen Pianoforte-Schule, Op. 500
(Vienna: Diabelli, 1842), available to the translator as ber den richtigen Vortrag der smtlichen Bee-
thovenschen Klavierwerke, ed. Paul Badura-Skoda (Vienna: Universal Edition, 1963). In this paragraph
and the following three, Schenker quotes the entire passage dealing with the sonata (except for un-
glossed excerpts from the score and a brief passage citing the third volume in support of a recom-
mendation that the metronome be used), pp. 34 36 of the original, 2628 of the reprint. Schenkers
changes to Czernys orthography have been undone.
Marx (Kompositionslehre, Part III, 1857) writes of the rst movement:
30
The consequent phrase commences with the main motive, plays itself out
further with the second motive (bars 914 quoted)
Anyone can see and hear that; but why exactly from e
,
2
and why only to c
2
?
but nds no closure, and instead runs on, Gang-like, into the second sub-
ject group. [p. 260]
Not Gang-like, but corresponding to the Urlinie motive of bars 78.
As early as the fth bar of the consequent, the relative major is reached,
in which key the second subject group is to begin; [p. 269]
But the modulation begins already in bar 9, and not in bar 13.
a light appendix reinforces the modulation by twice suggesting the dom-
inant key of the relative major (bars 1518 quoted) (the last two bars are
repeated); [26970]
The phrase
31
moves to the V of the new key, but not beyond this into a new key
of E
,
major.
and now the second group begins, at the very start even in the dominant
key. [p. 270]
What strikes Marx here is the chord on E
,
at the head of the second subject,
which is in A
,
major; but, the less he appreciates the implications of this trait
one looks for such things in vain in Bruckners symphonic movements, for
examplethe more easily it occurs to him to assume a new key, and, besides this,
to underscore this monstrosity with compulsive cheer with even, as though
human words would suce at all to render the horrendous eect of a landslide
of keys, A
,
E
,
A
,
, if, as Marx here supposes, it really occurred in the space of
only eight bars. {44}
The rst subject is formed of upward-striving two-bar segments; the sec-
ond subject answers almost literally exactly with a downward-turned mo-
tive (bars 2022 quoted), that, owing by means of its coherent and even
accompaniment (which the rst subject did not have), repeated three
times, is led forth, the third time, into a beautifully sweeping Gang in the
same motion [in gleicher Bewegung]. [pp. 28384]
Aside from the fact that such feeble hearing does not need to be taught in the rst
place, Marx also commits a contradiction, when he counts the beautifully sweep-
ing Ganghe means bars 2628which is turned upward, with the third rep-
etition of the motive, which is directed downward.
32
The content of these bars
signies something else, however, namely the Urlinie progression a
,
1
e
,
,
2
and
thus also more than merely a third repetition, let alone Marxs beloved Gang. It
is in just such inspired combinations of ideas that our masters art of sonata form
culminates!
until the closing subject, likewise thrice repeated, returns to the motion
and form of accompaniment of the rst subject. [p. 284]
But closure lies above all in the formation of the motive, which descends with
the remainder of the Urlinie tones of the fth-progression, (c)c
,
b
,
a
,
, to the
tonic note.
On the development:
The rst part has closed in A
,
major; the second begins with the rst seg-
ment [Abschnitt] of the rst subject in the same key, and establishes itself,
with a repetition of the last bar, on the dominant, [p. 294]
which here is not a real dominant (scale degree), however, but, as a passing tone,
a merely horizontal phenomenon,
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1
89
30
Adolf Bernhard Marx, Die Lehre von der musikalischen Komposition, praktisch theoretisch (Leip-
zig: Breitkopf & Hrtel; the translator had access to the fourth edition, published in 1868), Dritter Theil:
Die angewandte Kompositionslehre, pp. 25960. This and the following quotations about the rst
movement are extracted from the Sixth Book, Fifth Division, Closer Consideration of Sonata Form;
subsequent citations of this section are indicated by bracketed page numbers in the text. Excerpts
from this section can be found in Musical Form in the Age of Beethoven: Selected Writings on Theory
and Method, a selection of Marxs writings edited and translated by Scott Burnham (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1997); the terms Satz and Gang, where Marx uses them as complemen-
tary opposites in thematic construction (see Burnhams discussion in Musical Form in the Age of Bee-
thoven, p. 14), will be left untranslated. Schenkers changes to Marxs orthography have been undone.
31
Satz: Schenker adopts Marxs word.
32
Apparently Schenker understands gleicher Bewegung as in the same direction, a reading
that would indeed generate the contradiction that he ascribes to Marx; a more charitable reading
would be with the same motion, referring to the continuity of the accompanying eighth notes,
whose onset Marx has just mentioned, and whose cessation he will mention in the next quoted pas-
sage. Burnhams rendering, that is equally mobile (Musical Form in the Age of Beethoven, p. 135), is
noncommittal.
then repeats the segment a [bars 12] and proceeds, again with a repeti-
tion of the last bar, to the dominant of B
,
minor, thus to the subdominant
of the main key. [p. 294]
Only if Beethoven had gone directly back to F minor from this B
,
minor would
it have been permissible for Marx to mention the main key at this point; but since
this is not the case, the minor triad on B
,
is certainly not yet the B
,
minor that
would exert pressure on the main key as its subdominant. In the world of syn-
thesis, the sense of interaction, of relationship, is decisive, not value in itself.
Now the subsidiary subject enters, for eight bars, with a turn to C minor
(dominant of the principal key)presented there twice for two bars by
the upper voice, for two bars more by the bass, by this voice again on the
dominant of B
,
minor, and yet again on that of A
,
minor (the minor of
the relative keya stepwise descent from C to B
,
to A
,
minor). [p. 294]
Ignorance of the nature of musical elaboration [Auskomponierung] and mix-
turesee Harmonielehre, pp. 106/pp. 84takes its vengeance with Marx, in
that, because of f
,
, he actually speaks of A
,
minor in bars 7174, as he did of C
minor and B
,
minor shortly before. But we see a major and not a minor triad in
bar 74, and therefore must identify the minor-mode elaboration of the dominant
as merely a trait of mixture. Moreover, the minor triads on C (bar 69) and on B
,
(bar 71), which Marx takes for keys, refer in fact to the diatonic system of A
,
major and not A
,
minor (see Harmonielehre, pp. 59/pp. 45 ).
and then presented entirely in the manner of a Gang over a pedal point,
where a motive of the rst subject nally invites to it and thereby into the
third part. [294]
But the sinking from c
2
to e
1
in bars 6981 lends this group of measures the char-
acter of an indivisible whole, especially as the right-hand counterpoint that coin-
cides with the outcome of the Urlinie in bars 2022 (there ga
,
, here bc), and
which, in the sequel, is even thrice repeated in augmentation, grows out to be its
leading motive. In this connection one is astounded at the high art of synthesis
with which the young master departs from the repetition of the left-hand motive
in bar 73, in order to let the augmentation of the contrapuntal motive and its
threefold repetition enter as a new driving forcein this case along with a tonal
division. Marx therefore reads the passage incorrectly when he attributes decisive
signicance only to bars 6773, because of the motive from bars 2022, but writes
o the remainder of the bars with in the manner of a Gang, just because no
other similarly marked motive gets in his way there.
On the Adagio:
The rst subject is a two-part song in F major. Its conclusion is followed
immediately by the subsidiary subject in D minor.
33
Marx understands the Adagio as a three-part form with principal, subsidiary, and
principal subjects.
It [the subsidiary subject] presents itself at rst in line with a song form;
its rst bars (bars 1620 quoted) appear as antecedent of a rst part,
which would close perhaps in the relative major, orsince that is the key
of the principal theme, just departed fromperhaps better in the domi-
nant (A). Only this, toominor to minorBeethoven could not accept;
the motive of the new subject must always seem attractive and thoroughly
appropriate as a contrast to the principal subject, but not suitable for fur-
ther development. Thus, it turns away from the song form at this very
point and goes, with a natural turn of harmony (we give only the under-
lying melody)(bars 2226 quoted)to a cadence in C major.
Thus, the variation of the principal motive escapes him in bars 2223, and, in
bars 2728, 2930, even the motive itself in the most naked repetition; he mis-
takes the sense of the diminution in bars 2526, since he reduces it to:
{45} (in contrast to this, see the graph of the Urlinie); he mistakes the incompar-
able accuracy and beauty in the relations of the individual turns of the diminution:
tonwi lle 2
90
33
The Adagio is discussed in the Sixth Book, Second Division, Second Rondo Form; all the quo-
tations come from p. 119.
(notice as well the gradation into thirty-second notes, sixteenth notes, eighth
notes); thus he does not hear the way in which the primordial unity [das Ur-
Eine] works, always present but in ever new transformations, but remains dull
with respect to the divine power of genius, which moves the world of tones ac-
cording to laws of the human soul in just the same measure as it does the con-
verse, oering as a verbal substitute for all these wonders a natural turn and
a cadence in C major.
From there a redirection is made, with a cadence, back into the principal
subject, which is carried through in varied form and concluded with an
appendix.
The form is once more unmistakable here;
34
but the song-form aspect
of the middle subject is only just established and then immediately de-
parted from again.
Wrong. Only the contrasting tonality C major is actually the contrast as such in
this case, and the contrast thus consists exactly of the modulation, with its two
cycles of Stufen, as well as of the twofold repetition of the principal motive (see
the graph of the Urlinie). Precisely through such synthesis-technique is the
weight of the contrasting subject reduced to the desired degree in relation to the
principal subject,
35
and the owing character of it brought out all the more. And
really, in our case, the modulation, even without a clear-cut subject, seems to
suce so well for contrast that the repetitions of the principal motive almost
have just the eect of a coda. (Marx speaks of a Gang!)
36
But just for this rea-
son, the transposition of this part back into the main key may be accepted as
fourth part of the whole and not merely as an appendix.
37
The last movement is actually cited by Marx, in a long connected presenta-
tion, as an example of a sharply dened application of the fth rondo form as
taught by him:
HS
I
SS
1
SS
II
2
HSSS
III
2
.
38
But again he reads everything wrong. In bar 5
he declares: For to the rst subjectbars 15 are meant!
39
is now fastened this
completely dierent one (bars 59 quoted), which for him is already in A
,
major.
40
Bars 1213 he makes out to be a rapid turn to G major, and bars 13
as a pedal-point-like reinforcement, as though in the case of a simple passing
motionand here we have nothing but, in eect:
there could be talk of a pedal point or even a pedal-point-like reinforcement.
Still on the same page, though, we read the opposite of all this: of a rst subject
that hurls itself from F minor at once to A
,
major, in order, by way of F minor, to
close in G major [p. 191]as though a theme could run through so many keys
without thereby forfeiting its unity. To him bars 22 represent the rst sub-
sidiary subject [erster Seitensatz], although of similar rhythmic conguration
(to the principal subject) [pp. 19192]. How far removed he is, therefore, from
grasping the art with which Beethoven carries the contrariety and multiplicity
suited to the requirements of synthesis even into the realm of arpeggiations: the
rst subject is ruled by upward arpeggiations (in the left hand), the second by
downward ones (in the right hand, and, as it were, whipped into line in the course
of bars 2021), and the closing subject by upward ones again (in the left hand),
which so unerringly sweep bars 50 along with them, too. Bars 35 indicate to
Marxin opposition to his own scheme, on top of everything elsea closing
subject [Schlusatz], and bars 5056 almost a second closing subject [192].
41
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1
91
34
Once more because this is the third in a series of Marxs examples of relaxations of second
rondo form.
35
Gegensatz, Hauptsatz: Schenker adopts Marxs term and assimilates it to contrast.
36
Marx does speak of a Gang, but he does not quite claim that the passage in question is one:
Doubt can undeniably arise, incidentallyif not in the case at hand, then in similar ones
(which we will yet consider)about whether to regard a middle theme [Mittelsatz] that is
steered away from so early as a Satz of a song form or as a Gang; and so again we recognize
here a boundary line at which two most closely related forms, the rst and second rondo
forms, touch one another, indeed from time to time cannot be distinguished securely, how-
ever distinct they may be at the core of their being. (pp. 11920)
37
Schenker writes Anhnge (appendices), apparently in error.
38
Marx gives this diagram at the beginning of his Sixth Book, Third Division, Sixth Segment,
Fifth Rondo Form (op. cit., p. 186). HS main subject (Hauptsatz), SS subsidiary subject
(Seitensatz). Again, further citations will be given by page number in the text.
39
Schenkers interjection.
40
But the rst subject of this sentence is not the principal theme of the form. Two sentences be-
fore Schenker begins quoting, Marx identies it as a striking feature of the principal theme that it
consists of two distinct strange elements, of which bars 15 represent the rst and bars 59 the second.
41
If Schenker means that Marx contradicts himself by including a closing subject when none is
indicated in the scheme cited, he is unjustied. The schemes dening featurethat is, the feature
that distinguishes the fth rondo from the other larger rondo formsis the occurrence of a second
subsidiary subject (SS
2
), and no repetition of the principal theme, in the middle section, rather than
On the occasion of the livelier turn back toward the rst subject (bars 111 are
meant) he speaks of no fewer than four keys: F major, D [recte: D
,
] major, B
,
minor,
C minor (!!) and then it says: But instead of C minor, ceg is written [p. 193]. . . .
{46} But how absurd, this obsession with demonstrating by hermeneutic
means the ways of Beethovens logical consistency, while failing so completely to
comprehend them musically! When Marx sees bars 1, already he knows how
to say: The inconstancy in the formation of the principal subject, . . . as well
as . . . the choice of the minor dominant . . . are to be attributed to the passion-
ate . . . character of the nale [p. 191]; he sees bars 22 and already he writes: We
thus have before us another simple theme with incomplete repetition, of the
same impetuosity as the rst subject, . . . closely linked with it; he sees bars 34
and he already feels: Now the need for a closing subject (bars 35) is felt, to
round o the rst section soothingly; he sees bars 50 and already he knows:
Only the fundamental character of the entire nale conicts with this peaceful
conclusion [p. 192].
In conclusion, he, of course, does not fail to assert:
It is one of the earlier and smaller compositions of Beethoven, but one of
the most characterful and self-controlled that would ever be written.
[p. 194]
and delights himself with idle thoughts:
. . . how unnecessary and uncalled-for a central repetition of the rst sub-
ject would have been [194].
But Beethoven wrote a sonata-form movement, where a central repetition of the
rst subject does not belong at all, and did not write Marxs fth rondo form,
where the repetition, if there is to be such a thing at all, should have belonged
without exception!
His Anleitung zum Vortrag Beethovenscher Klavierwerke also contains many
references to Op. 2, No. 1.
42
I condently leave to the reader the examination of
these instructions, to which, as I indicate, the prerequisite of a properly under-
stood content is lacking, but can do no other than recognize that Marx at least has
an open mind for freedom in performance. Suce it to say here that, along with
Beethovens ngering in bars 5962 of the minuet, he has also considered that of
Czerny (see earlier), as well as the following, imparted to him orally by Blow:
4 5 4 5 4 5 4 5 4 5 4 5 4 5 4 5 4 5 4 5 4 5
1 2 1
|
2 1 2 1 2 1
|
2 1 2 1 2 1
|
2 1 2 1 2 1
|
2 .
But he himself is not averse also
to indicate the two voices proceeding in thirds as the basis of the left
hand, belonging together, . . . and to leave the upper voice to the right
hand, as the carrier of the melody. For small hands this suggestion, along-
side Blows ngering in the passage of fourths, seems the most accept-
able. Beethoven himself indicates the latter for a span of three bars in the
nale of the A major Sonata, Op 101 . . . and this prescription can there-
fore be taken back to the sonata in Op. 2.
By no means! For the situation in Op 101, last movement, bars 216 is completely
dierent. But anyone who grasps the sense of the passage in the minuet of of the
Op. 2 sonata and understands how to read the slurs will nd that it is rendered
more ttingly through Beethovens ngering than through any others; one sees
clearly, from the way the master-player has arranged it for him, that he has touch
and power in reserve for the peak fortissimo b
,
2
in bar 61and this alone corre-
sponds to the state of aairs there.
If a theorist like Riemann cannot follow the aristocratic urge of genius to
bind great unities, to present far-reaching compilations of chords from a single
point of view, then, whether he wants to or not, then he must, in good democratic
fashion, break up the whole, the large form, splinter the connections, and hear
innumerable harmonies where only passing motions rule. Thus Riemann dissects
tonwi lle 2
92
any feature of the outer sections. Moreover, the scheme is oered only as a kind of rst draft of the
form; on the next page Marx says, The rst and most important thing that we have to consider, ac-
cordingly [that is, once the absence of the principal theme from the middle section has been postu-
lated], isthe close of the rst part. Can it be closed satisfactorily with the rst subsidiary subject?
No. . . . Also, a Gang following after the subsidiary subject would not have this power. . . . We therefore
require a Satz that reinforces the conclusion of our composite mass, or of our rst part, thus a closing
subject. . . ; a few lines later Marx elaborates the scheme for the outer sections to principal theme
subsidiary subject with Gngeclosing subject [HauptsatzSeitensatz mit GngenSchlusatz]
(he later adds this to the complete scheme, on p. 199; see also Musical Form in the Age of Beethoven,
p. 91) , and he then immediately devotes a subsection of the chapter to the closing subjectall of this
on the pages between the scheme quoted by Schenker and the analysis of the sonatas nale.
42
Schenker cites the third edition of 1898; the translator had access only to the second edition, ed-
ited by Gustav Behncke (Berlin: Otto Janke, 1875). Pages 9095 are devoted to Op. 2, No. 1, and the
preceding section of General Observations refers to it in a number of placesincluding the passage
cited later in this paragraph, from pp. 3334.
the rst movement of the sonata into sixteen periods: the rst part into: I, bars
18, II (evolution), bars 916, IIIIV (second theme, A
,
major), bars 1641,
IVa (epilogue), bars 418; the development into V (main theme), bars 4954,
VI (second theme), bars 5563, VII, bars 6371, VIIIX (retransition), bars
7193, X, bars 93100, etc.
43
In the text, he distinguishes further assorted an-
tecedent and consequent phrases in IIIIV, which suggests total confusion re-
garding the manifestation of unity in the second group, as is genuinely suited to
a sonata (thus also the coupling of two periods). What is the use, for example, of
Period VII or Period X? Of course, if one sees him drag a myriad of harmonies
into the fth-progression in the latter case, then one understands how he must
have experienced a diculty there that, in reality, does not exist. But the ultimate
cause of his gross transgressions is to be sought in his bad ear for music. Thus, he
hears the chord in bar 11 of the rst movement as:
and just with this he completely misses Beethovens genius of synthesis in the line
and in the modulation in the consequent phrase; that he speaks at the same time
of indisputably simple relationships makes him look even worse; bar 95 sounds
like this to him:
{47} a misconception of this passage, a misrepresentation, that makes one blush.
In bars 911 in the consequent phrase, he still continues F minor with VI, in-
stead of entering at once into the modulation to A
,
major. He explains bars 111
113 with (S
IV
V D
7
) S, instead of with passing motions, and, in bar 81, he hears a
fourfold exchange of VI, instead of neighboring notes and passing motions. But
what further errors he might yet have betrayed if, in the sketch of his analysis,
instead of just transcribing the notes mechanically, he had attempted to represent
their sense, one can hardly imagine. Can such a limited aural range take the mea-
sure of the breadth and depth of Beethovenian coherence? So he much prefers to
conduct soliloquies about meter, pursue puerilities of reminiscence (see below),
etc. The question of whether an upbeat quarter-note c
1
also bets the repetition
of the motive in bars 34 (it would be taken from the accompaniment), he de-
cides in the negative. But after the rst span (of a sixth), ca
,
, is established by
means of the upbeat to bar 1, a second span, cb
,
, must necessarily impose itself
in bars 34and is the origin of the short grace-notes in bars 56 not to be
found precisely in the upbeats as well? That, by contrast, the upbeat is missing al-
together in bar 100 in the recapitulation (the rst bar of the sketch referred to
above begins in exactly this way, incidentally) has to do only with the dierent sit-
uation there.
44
The form of the Adagio, Riemann, like Marx, understands as a three-part one
(Groe Kompositionslehre,
45
pp. 86[7]):
For example, the Adagio of Beethovens Sonata op 2 no 1 consists, in its
rst part of two sentences [Stze] that both show the scheme a a b a: (bars
116 quoted). The middle section (the Trio) is actually formed of just a
single eight-bar sentence, which begins contrastingly in D minor and ca-
dences to C major, but which is extended through the interpolation of
eleven bars and gets four more bars of cadential appendices, whereupon
the rst section is repeated, richly ornamented, and likewise receives a se-
ries of cadential appendices as coda to top it o. (See also Beethovens
Klaviersonaten, p. 98.)
Thus, like Marx, he, too, fails to recognize the repetitions of the main motive in
the contrasting section, as follows from the words interpolation and a series of
cadential appendices.
The minuet gives Riemann occasion to write at length about the internal
rest [Innenpause] in bar 1 and to indicate the motivic formation thus:
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1
93
43
Schenker bases the rst part of his critique of Riemanns analysis of Op. 2, No. 1, on L. van
Beethovens smtliche Klavier-Solosonaten: sthetische und formal-technische Analyse, mit historischen
Notizen, vol. 1 (Berlin: Max Hesse, 1918). For subsequent references, he uses the abbreviated title from
the spine of the book, Beethovens Klaviersonaten.
44
Hngt nur mit der dort vernderten Lage zusammen: Schenker may also be using Lage in its tech-
nical sense of register: in the recapitulation, the a
,2
of the principal motive is prepared from above, by
the line c
3
b
,2
a
,2
, rather than from below by the broken chord from c
1
.
45
Hugo Riemann, Groe Kompositionslehre (Berlin and Stuttgart: W. Spemann, 1902), vol. 1: Der
homophone Satz (Melodielehre und Harmonielehre).
If I now juxtapose to this gure the following one:
then I may well say that he is right about bar 1 only by accident.
Again like Marx, Riemann writes about the Prestissimo (Katechismus der
Kompositionslehre):
The closing movement of Beethovens sonata Op. 2, No. 1, expresses the
third form very clearly (bars 12 quoted): rst a three-limbed sentence
(4 4 4 ) with cadence to the second upper dominant (G major), and
then a second one with extension of the seventh bar into two bars (triplet
of bars) closing to the minor upper dominant C minor.
46
Thus, like Marx, he also tears the C minor cadence, II

I (bars 121320) in
two at the V in the middle (!), and postulates two formal sections with two ca-
dences (cf. also the sketch of his analysis in Beethovens Klaviersonaten).
A third sentence, already set completely in this key [C minor], thus re-
mains for the moment still in the character and movement of the rst
theme, while dwelling on the dominant, g
4
6
(a
,
gf

g is a guration of
g), and only in eight bars cadences to the tonic
o
g (with the second half-
sentence repeated again).
But bars 22 are underpinned by I, not V, and the sense of the gurationsee
the graph of the Urlinieis other than what Riemann states. {48}
The actual theme is serious (bars 3536 quoted), a regular eight-bar pe-
riod with full cadence on g, which is repeated exactly, to which are at-
tached cadential reinforcements using the main motive of the rst theme
(these are repeated). In sharp contrast, the middle section in A
, ,
major
(relative major) now begins, without transition (bars 5968 quoted), re-
peated exactly, then an intermediate four-bar unit (repeated with orna-
ment) and a return of the main section of the third theme with the omis-
sion of the segment bracketed above, i.e., exactly symmetrically, then
again the intermediate phrase (4 4) and once more the main section
without interpolation. The motives taken from the main theme now lead
back, in three eight-bar sections with a few interpolations, to the main
key and to the repetition of the rst part, which proceeds normally, and
to this degree approximates the most perfect form (the fourth), as it
brings the second theme (as already the transition to it) into the main
key. Just a few bars of coda, with motives from the rst theme, close the
movement o.
In Beethovens Klaviersonaten, too, Riemann clings to this conception of the last
movement: Its form is that of a two-part song form with reprises of both parts,
approximating sonata form.
Nagel (Beethoven und seine Klaviersonaten, 1903) declares on p. 26:
But anyone who compares its overall structure and the expressive means
employed in it to the two other sonatas of the same opus, contrasts its rel-
atively inoensive manner with the brilliant stamp of the second and
third sonatas, and bears in mind that, as conditions stood for Beethoven,
it was incumbent on him to introduce himself to Vienna in the most out-
wardly advantageous wayanyone who takes all that into consideration
will conclude that Beethoven would have had no reason at all to write
music in Vienna like that of the rst sonata.
47
To wit, Nagel wants to see the work relegated to the Bonn period. One accord-
ingly has the right to expect that he would support this assumption on stylistic
features; but if one reads his analysis one sees him, just like Riemann, Marx, and
the others, as a failure, and in a condition of helplessness that in no way justies
the issuing of such hypotheses. All that remains is the whim of a historian: thus
does a historian slap genius on the back, one might say, in a variant of the popu-
lar motto of the Fifth Symphony!
It would be superuous to provide further samples of the literature; now the
reader will just get to hear something of the tall tales of those who search for the-
matic resemblances.
Reinecke (Die Beethovenschen Clavier-Sonaten, 1894) postulates a similarity
between the main motive of the rst movement in the Beethoven sonata and that
of the last movement of the G minor Symphony of Mozart.
48
Here I will disre-
tonwi lle 2
94

46
Riemann, Katechismus der Kompositionslehre (Musikalische Formenlehre) (Leipzig, 1889).
47
Willibald Nagel, Beethoven und seine Klaviersonaten (Langensalza: Hermann Beyer & Shne
[Beyer & Mann], 1903), vol. 1, p. 26.
48
Reinecke, Die Beethovenschen Clavier-Sonaten, pp. 301.
gard the fact that the lines manifest themselves completely dierently in the two
cases, and only express my amazement that the Masters of the Reminiscence
Hunt have not long since been able to nd in this motive an anticipation of the
Scherzo of the Fifth Symphony, too, since in the meantime it has become well
known (through Nottebohm) that Beethoven actually did write a few bars of the
Mozart symphony movement referred to on his sketch pages.
49
Perhaps this dis-
covery is still to come!
In opposition to Reinecke, Riemann would prefer to recall the Mannheim
composers and their rockets (Beethovens Klaviersonaten, p. 85): When several
such arpeggios climb up in succession, it is dicult to resist an association with
the sight of reworks. But Beethoven is satised with two, and discharges the un-
rest that such a motivic formation arouses through a turn [Doppelschlag] on the
peak tone, which resembles an explosion with slowly sinking star-shells. Nagel,
for his part, trots out other arpeggiations, e.g. those of Christoph Graupner, and
moreover arms that he has seen similar ones in Haydn, Mozart, etc.
50
Thats
what I call a nice pastime.
It is also Riemann who wants to see the arpeggiation at the beginning of the
development in the last movement, bars 5961, understood as a reminiscence of
the beginning of the rst movement.
So thats how it is with Beethovens Op. 2, No. 1!
Beethovens Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1
95
49
Nottebohm, Zweite Beethoveniana, p. 531:
On the third page of the same leaf [a bifolium of sketches for the Scherzo] are 29 bars from
the last movement of Mozarts G-minor Symphony. This proximity is a traitoress. It betrays
that the rst nine notes of the theme of the third movement of Beethovens C minor Sym-
phony, in respect of the pitch succession (not rhythm or key), are exactly the same as the
rst nine notes of the theme of the last movement of Mozarts G-minor Symphony. Did Bee-
thoven notice the similarity?
Schenkers remarks about Reinecke are puzzling, because Reinecke does connect the Scherzo
theme of Beethovens Fifth Symphony to the Mozart theme and does note the presence of the latter
in Beethovens sketches:
The rst theme [of Op. 2, No. 1,] automatically calls to mind the Finale of the G-minor Sym-
phony of Mozart (music example here). This theme of Mozarts appears to have made an
unusually strong impression on Beethoven in general, for we learn through Wasielewski, in
his valuable Beethoven biography, that Beethoven consciously formed the theme of the third
movement of the C-minor Symphony out of this theme. To wit, both themes are found, no-
tated close together in Beethovens hand, in one of his sketchbooks (music example here).
Reineckes two music examples provide simple, note-for-note comparisons of the themes in question.
50
Nagel, Beethoven und seine Klaviersonaten, p. 28. Graupners forename is given as Christian in
Schenkers original text.
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Tonwille 3
This page intentionally left blank
First Movement (Allegro)
This sonata bears the date of December 1798.
1
Haydn wrote it in his sixty-sixth
year, twenty years after Mozart wrote his Sonata in A Minor (1778) and two years
after Beethoven wrote his Sonata in F Minor, Op. 2, No. 1.
2
Even though the
younger masters raced ahead of him, Haydn, as is becoming of a genius who re-
lies on God, remained a pioneer, his own man, a man who lent an indestructible
body and the wings of an eternal soul to a new perfection. These three are kin-
dred masters, not because they lived during the same period of time, but because
they produced tonal synthesis with the same superior strength and were servants
of tone who were blessed with connection. And yet, with all these similarities,
how dierent is the world of tone in a Haydn sonata compared to what it is in a
sonata by Mozart or Beethoven!
The rst movements sonata form is arranged as follows:
First Subject: antecedent phrase bars 18
consequent phrase and modulation 916
Second Subject Group
rst part of the subject 1727
second part of the subject 2740
(Closing Subject) 4043
Development 44 78
Recapitulation 79116
Bars 1. While the upper voice rises in bar 1 from g
1
to the fth tone of the dia-
tonic scale, which is the tone that is also decisive for the Urlinie,
3
the inner voice
traverses 8
,
76 in the rhythm l
q q h
l .
4
This rhythm, called a caesura [Ein-
schnitt] in strict counterpoint (see Kontrapunkt i, p. 407/p. 316), proves to be that
which bestows life on this movement. Right away in bar 2, the Urlinie corrobo-
rates the caesura rhythm with a consecration of its own and thus elevates it to a
motive of a special type. As the conguration of bars 12 stands before us, we
feel that no one other than Haydn could have made it. We recognize the follow-
ing as especially characteristic of his inspired style: rst, the middle register as
the chest tone of heartfelt, manly song; second, the genuinely improvisatory en-
thusiasm that, because it remains as happily aware of the most distant things as
it is of the present moment, freely rushes to a stop [Zsur] in the very rst tones
(i.e., the terse cadential progression above the pedal point), an enthusiasm that
promotes in an especially eective way both the rhythm of the caesura [Ein-
schnitt] and the closure [Zsur] of this cadential progression; and nally, the
arpeggios, which are artfully divided between the two hands in alternation like
a minstrel strumming his strings. In fact, Haydns creation of tonal units strongly
evokes images of human speech (see Harmonielehre, pp. 26/pp. 17 ). In con-
trast to other {4} masters, Haydn uses pauses and fermatas to underscore and
thereby increase, as if with a diversity of gestures, the signicance, animation,
and intensity of his tonal rhetoric.
In bar 3, the Urlinie is transferred to a higher register, a register in which 5 4
3 are already placed in the open (i.e., without a pedal point). And, once again, the
99
Haydns Sonata in E
,
Major, Hoboken XVI:52
Haydn: Sonate Es-Dur {Tonwille 3, pp. 321}
t r a ns l at e d b y r ob e rt s na r re nb e r g
1
[S]Haydn, Gesamtausgabe, no. 52; Universal Edition no. 4. [Schenker worked from Louis Khler
and F. A. Roitzschs four-volume edition of the Haydn sonatas, published by C. F. Peters (edition no.
713); in deference to the publishers of Tonwille, however, he gave the numbering of the sonata in the
current Universal Edition. (It is characteristic of older collected editions of the Haydn sonatas for the
later, more famous sonatas to appear at the beginning, and not in chronological order.) The Gesam-
tausgabe to which Schenker refers was prepared by Karl Psler in 1918. For an appraisal of Pslers
work in the context of Haydn editions in the early twentieth century, see Tonwille 4, p. 28/i, p. 167.
2
[S]The Mozart and Beethoven sonatas are discussed in the second issue of Tonwille.
3
[S]In the graph of the Urlinie (p. 100), I have for the rst time used the symbol ^ to indicate that
a diatonic tone is called upon to serve in the Urlinie.
4
Two of Schenkers personal copies of Tonwille in the Oster Collection are marked with emenda-
tionsthese are assigned the numbers 10 and 18 in the category Books and Pamphlets (hereafter
BP10 and BP18, respectively). In BP18, he indicates a dierent Urlinie, writing 3 above bar 1, 2 above
bar 16 and again above bar 27.
caesura rhythm. And now with c
3
, still in bar 3, 6

appears in front of 5, as if sup-

plying a new impulse. Indeed, 6

is not assigned a harmonic degree of its own, but

instead lies before 5 only as a neighbor note; and, after reaching back three times,
it is nally able to set in motion a sixteenth-note run that ushers in the lowering
of 6

by an octave.
5
Such a descent in the space of an octave naturally makes use
of passing chords, but their execution not only varies from one example to an-
other (compare the descents in bars 4850 and 5861) but even from one seg-
ment to another within a single example (see for example, the C minor Prelude,
bars 518, from Bachs Well-Tempered Clavier, book 1; the topic is treated at length
in Freier Satz).
6
The Urlinie graph shows which types of passing [chords] arise
in the octave descent of bars 4 8. Also noteworthy in this descent is the progres-
sive acceleration: whole notes in bars 4 and 5, half notes in bars 6 and 7, and
tonwi lle 3
100
*) A number with the sign ^ signies the corresponding step in the diatonic scale. The succession of numbers so indicated signify the descent of the Urlinie, for example, in E
,
major.
The Urlinie tones of a lesser signicance are dierentiated by being printed smaller.
5
The graph of the Urlinie shows a slur between g
2
and g
1
, hence 3 and not 6

, but Schenker may

mean that the stepwise motion through this octave brings 6

down as well, along with 5 and 4 because

they are included as passing tones within the octave descent.
6
In 1923 Schenker published an analysis of this prelude in the monthly journal Die Musik (vol. 15,
pp. 64151); he incorporated it three years later into his essay Das Organische der Fuge in Meister-
werk ii, which is concerned mainly with the companion C minor fugue.
nally quarter notes in bar 8. Yet, the master knew to avoid juxtaposing one note
value with the next in blatant contrast; instead, he arranges for a suitable prepa-
ration to mediate each point of transition: hence, the entrance of f
2
on the upbeat
cleverly prepares for the coming half notes,
7
and likewise the motion leading up-
ward from b
,
to a
,
1
in two quarter notes in the upbeat of bar 7 prepares for the
quarter notes of the downbeat in bar 8.
8
And then, in this same bar, the quarter
notes of the downbeat together with the half note of the upbeat (2 of the Urlinie)
produce, entirely of their own accord, an imitation of the succession 5 4 3 of
bar 2, an eect especially promoted by the fact that Haydn knew to bring the en-
tire series 4 3 2 in the same register as 5 4 3 by means of the aforementioned
run in the upbeat of bar 7. What sureness in the treatment of diminution! So, out
of respect for this unavoidable impression, we may then interpret the Urlinie as
running its course in two segments, as indicated in the Urlinie graph (by the solid
portions of the bracket above bars 18). (As a whole, of course, the Urlinie falls
from 5 to 1 , with the 3 4 prexed in bar 1 serving only to elaborate the space of
a third.) The increased harmonic motion in bar 8 helps the emphasis of the ca-
dential progression at the conclusion of the antecedent phrase.
As for the diminution in the antecedent phrase, the following must be noted:
the leap of a third from the rst to the second quarter in bar 1 elicits a similar leap
in the rst quarter of bar 2the law of repetition in its most delicate manifesta-
tion (Harmonielehre, pp. 4 /pp. 4 ); the contraction into sixteenth notes across
bars 3|4 continues on into the thirty-second-note gures of bars 6 and 7, which,
although they are used here only for decoration, nonetheless have their signi-
cant source in the Urlinies motive.
Bars 9. The antecedent actually concludes with e
,
1
as 1 in a full cadence (a trait
of Haydns sonata-synthesis that recurs again and again), but through an act of
abbreviation the start of the consequent phrase is superimposed upon it, with the
ascending formula [Anstiegformel] 3 4 5 placed in the higher octave. 6

now
breaks away here, setting itself apart with greater denition: the pitch already ac-
quires the value of a quarter note (notice the sense of increase) and positions it-
self in this expanded form on IV, which is of course suspended above a pedal
point. The thirty-second-note run in bars 910 makes an overwhelming impres-
sion, storming through the Urlinies linear progression (6

) 5 1 , (c
3
) b
,
1
E
,
, and
thereby answering as well as thrillingly arming the run that just occurred in the
antecedent phrase. {5} What organic vigor lies in such boldness of improvisation!
And then, right away in the fourth quarter of bar 10 no less, 6

reappears in order
to unroll the Urlinies progression anew, this time in half notes. The newly formed
denition of this augmentation, the eect of which is so much more intense for
coming after the motivic plummet of bar 10, is only somewhat mued by its pres-
entation in syncopations. Even in the upbeat of bar 13, one must still assume there
is a suspension (a suspended octave leading to the diminished seventh of

IV
, 7
)
and therefore dismiss the semblance of a V

3
that arises at this point merely
through the coincidental collision of the accented passing f
1
(passing between g
and e) and the suspended octave e
,
3
(see the Urlinie graph). The augmentation in
bars 1112 arises automatically with the transference of the diminution from bars
67, where the passing motions are likewise paced in half notes. It is appropriate,
then, to speak here of an inversion of those bars: the right hand taking the six-
teenths and syncopated notes, the left hand taking the half notes; moreover, the e
,
2
in bar 10 may plausibly be regarded as a half note, too, insofar as harmonic degree
I connects the third quarter to the fourth. Indeed, it was this very circumstance,
and really just this, that allowed the master to start the new Urlinie progression on
the heels of the rstwhat rigor in synthesis! The transfer of the chromatic tones
from the inner voice to the lower in the upbeat of bar 12 (i.e., the division of the
half note into a
1
and a
,
1
) prepares for the chromatic motion in bar 13.
The concluding pitch of the linear progression, e
,
2
as 1 , is reinterpreted in bar
13 as 4 of B
,
major, whichsee the Urlinie graph
9
is not followed by 3 until bar
18 [recte: 17], inasmuch as the beginning and ending points of the two Urlinie seg-
ments 4 [3 2 and (
,
6

) 5 4]

3 are drawn together. An exchange of voices in bar 14

brings the motion of the lower voice of bar 13 up to the top and in this way clearly
promotes
,
6

as neighbor to 5 in the second Urlinie segment, expressed in the

manner of a turn with g
,
fe preceding f.
Bars 17. The rst part of the second subject group begins like the rst subject
(compare this with bars 12 and also 910), and once again, peeping out clearly
from behind the altered diminution (a thirty-second-note run that turns two oc-
Haydns Sonata in E
,
Major, Hoboken XVI:52
101
7
Schenker treats the meter as if it were alla breve, with one downbeat and one upbeat in each bar.
8
[S]For this technique of connecting dierent note values, see, for example, Beethovens Sonata in
C

Minor, rst movement, bars 5557 and what was said about it in the foreword to my facsimile edi-
tion of this sonata: [Ludwig van Beethoven: Sonate, Op. 27, Nr. 2 (die sogenannte Mondscheinsonate), mit
drei Skizzenblttern des Meisters], Musikalische Seltenheiten No. 1, Universal Edition 7000 [1921].
9
In the graph of the Urlinie, there should be a B dur at bar 13, to show that the roman and capped
arabic numbers are reckoned in B
,
major until bar 43.
taves into a theater for the motive), is 6

before 5. The criterion for identifying the

second subject group is only the change of key itself, and not also the motive (see
under Literature). At last, in bar 20 and after a long struggle, 6

nally acquires
a temporal span longer than what it had in bar 9. By traversing

4 5 in
bars 2022, the line again circumscribes 5 with a turn gure, as it had done ear-
lier in bars 14 15, but now greatly enlarged. Taken merely in its horizontal aspect,
the turn gure suggests the elaboration of a II

3
(see the Adagio, bars 1112 and
2728). This impression is also reinforced by the series of chords, which indeed
resembles a course that runs II
,3
VIII

3
but is one in which the intervening
chords may so much more easily be understood as having a passing value, inas-
much as the same harmonic degree stands at the beginning and at the end. In
fact, the voice-leading here is an outgrowth of the conventional voice-leading
that makes do with a simple contrary motion:
10 8 6
g
f
e

g
f
e,

II
,3

3
{6} However, since the nal pitch of the lower line in our case had to be brought
from the small octave [g] to the one-line octave [g
1
] (see the Urlinie graph),
Haydn preferred to get to g
1
not by way of an intervening octave, an interval that
would in any event be less conducive to diminution, but instead by way of the in-
tervals 65, i.e., the bass notes AB
,
, which now in like manner simulate V and I
and allow greater opportunity for elaboration. And it is precisely the important
change of harmony and the new motivic formation that, in conjunction, an-
nounce the increased weight of 6

. The suspensions placed over II on the down-

beat of bar 20 constitute at that moment a VI

3
; thus, we have here the so-called
chord of the major seventh (see Emanuel Bach, Generalbalehre [ part ii/2 of
the Versuch], chapter XVI/pp. 29397) applied to a
6
3 chord, as shown in Fig. 1b
(see Freier Satz).
5 now appears in the upbeat of bar 22, here again functioning as the real start-
ing point of the descending Urlinie. If one grants the status of the Urlinies fth-
progression to the series of tones descending from f
2
to b
,
1
(from the upbeat of
bar 22 to the upbeat of bar 23), one will be mistaken about what follows there-
after: for in fact this is an inner-voice motion that, with the attainment of b
,
1
,
wants only to create space for the cycling of new thirty-second-note diminution
in bar 24, while the remaining pitches of the Urlinie 4 1 do not follow until bars
2527 (see the Urlinie graph). It must be observed, furthermore, that the diminu-
tion changes virtually harmony by harmony.
Of particularly great eect is the lowest line of bars 2223, which moves in
sudden leaps (instead of steps of a second); these leaps in the lowest line answer
similar leaps in the right hand that icker up above the upper line proper. The
master was forced by the law of obligatory registral treatment to write these leaps
in the lowest line (see Tonwille 1, p. 39/i, p. 35): the bass pitch e
,
on the downbeat
of bar 20 must be followed in bar 24 by d, also in the small octave; so, because the
one-line and the small octave must take turns participating in f(g)fe
,
d of
the lower voice, the leaps arose out of necessity. As intended, the small octave has
the last word in the fourth quarter of bar 24.
Bars 27. The rst part of the second subject has deposited 1 on the downbeat of
bar 22 [recte: 27] in a full cadence. And immediately, in the second quarter of the
same bar, the second part of the subject latches on to ita priceless treasure of so-
nata synthesis that I never tire of mentioning. The graph of the Urlinie chiey
shows the descent from 5 to 2 as signifying an antecedent phrase ending in a half
cadence with mixture (B
,
minor). The consequent phrase (bars 33) returns to the
major mode and undergoes a signicant expansion: not only does it nally bring
8

7 into play before 6

, but it also brings 3 2(1 ), which is tantamount to 10 9 be-

fore 8

. Yet, the latter prex does not signify a course of essential Urlinie tones;
10
tonwi lle 3
102

10
[S]Such a course would have completely dierent consequences; see, for example, Tonwille 2,
p. 13/i, p. 61.
rather, the

3 of this prex serves to cancel the

,
3 of the preceding mixture, while
the prex as a whole, in returning to the original note values of the caesura rhythm
(see bars 1 and 2), also {7} serves to supply a new impulse to the line, which reaches
back to start from 8

.
Concerning the diminution, there is a contraction of the basic motive in bar
27 that functions in the service of 5; the 3 2 1 of the preceding cadential pro-
gression provides a direct stimulus for it. This contraction creates space, and a
chain of contracted motives (four elaborated thirds) leads down to d
,
2
(
,
3 in bar
29).
11
Even here, the diminution, although seemingly new, again expresses only
the basic motive and, moreover, with the caesura rhythm. Two of these newly de-
rived motives produce the succession d
,
2
c
2
(with their beginning and ending
points) and their repetition gives rise to d
,
2
c
1
in augmentation, from the upbeat
of bar 30 to the c
1
of bars 3031 [recte: 3132], where the ninth (in reality the step
of a second; see Kontrapunkt i, pp. 88 and 119/pp. 61 and 84 ) is again tra-
versed in four leaps of a third. At the beginning of bar 31, it is II that is presented
and not the V that one might suppose: V is not reached until the fth-progres-
sion of bar 31 leads to it in bar 32. In the fourth quarter of bar 32 the run storms
upward to d
2
in order to regain the two-line register of bar 29; but because of the
pressure of that tempestuous ascent, the line stretches even further upward, be-
yond f
2
in the second quarter of bar 33 (which substitutes for d
2
) to b
,
2
, the 8

of
the Urlinie (see above). 6

is reached in the downbeat of bar 34 and serves to give

further impulse to the line, just as in bar 3. 3 is reached in bar 35; and now there
is a fascinating play with the lower neighbor notes, which are struck by the left
hand an octave lower and point with so much promise in the downward direc-
tion (see the Erluterungsausgabe of Op. 110, p. 34/p. 24), until virtually plunging
in bar 36 into 2 and 1 with a forceful sixteenth-note run that sums up, as it were,
the preceding events (8

to 3). The last tone of the Urlinie (1 ) would thus seem to

appear already in the downbeat of bar 37, along with a complete harmonic pro-
gression no less; but since the tonic, in keeping with the preceding chain [Zug] of
6
3 chords, appears only as a
6
3 chord, it does not yet amount to a cadence. So after
a rest in the upbeat (yet another gesture of Haydnesque tonal rhetoric),
12
the
master reattempts a harmonic progression, one that nally brings an actual ca-
dence with the ascending leading tone. Accordingly, b
,
1
must be heard as con-
tinuing to sound above the hollow octaves of bars 3839. The degree to which 2
1 7 1 is in principle equivalent to the linear succession 2 1 (see the parentheses in
the Urlinie graph) will be explained in detail in Freier Satz.
13
Here I will refer
only to what was said in Kontrapunkt i (pp. 142/pp. 101 ) about the use of both
ascending and descending leading tones in the cantus rmus as the train of
thought underlying this interpretation.
14
Not only is the formula of the ascent
b
,
cd lightly etched into the nal measures of the exposition, a formula that fe-
licitously paves the way to the repetition of the exposition as well as to the devel-
opment, but also, as if coincidentally, the higher octave is reached, an octave that
makes it possible for the motion of the Urlinie tones to proceed in two registers
in the development, as if on a double track: a highly unusual treatment of the Ur-
linie, with exceptionally sonorous charm.
Bars 44. That to which the nal bars of the exposition alluded now comes fully
into its own, borne along by exuberant expression. The development sections
line that is led along two registral tracks (see the brackets in the Urlinie graph)
moves from (b
,
) b

to d and back (bars 44 74); then, in bars 7579, a quick de-

scent to g is attached to it (albeit in chromatic steps), and this leads into the re-
capitulation.
15
What makes it especially dicult to understand the indicated line
is that the regular pace of the its course, in keeping with Haydns particular style,
is broken by rhetorical caesuras, either in the form of actual fermatas (bars 45 and
67) or as elaborated {8} expansions that in eect amount to fermatas (bars 5152).
The path in its entirety can only be understood from the perspective of G
minor. After reinterpreting I in B
,
major as II [recte: III] of G minor, IV is ap-
proached by way of a 56 exchange. In this exchange, however, the outer voices
would have led to consecutive octaves:
Haydns Sonata in E
,
Major, Hoboken XVI:52
103
11
That is, by presenting the motivic content within a shorter span of time, Haydn creates an op-
portunity to ll the remaining time with repetitions of the contracted motive.
12
[S]Compare this with a virtually identical treatment of cadences in the masters Symphony
No. 101 in D Major, rst movement, [bars 302].
13
In BP10, Schenker has emended the graph of Urlinie by placing the roman number I in bar 35,
and omitting the parenthesis enclosing the subsequent (1

7). He appears to reassign 2 to bar 39, but
a marginal note claries that c
2
b
,1
a
1
is an elaboration of c
2
in bar 36.
14
In the passage from the sonata to which Schenker refers, 2 and 7 are interpreted as lying on two
dierent paths approaching 1 , hence as virtually belonging to two dierent lines; here as elsewhere,
the primary line is determined by the preceding context; and if the context is the Urlinie, then of
course the descending leading tone lies in the primary upper line (2 1 ) and the lower leading tone
lies in an inner voice. The passing from 2 to 7 is an elaboration of the consonant space between the
two leading tones, the two lines that lead to tonic; see Der freie Satz, 118 and Fig. 34a.
15
Annotations to BP18 indicate that Schenker later considered interpreting the line of the devel-
opment section as b
,
a
,
, 87 above V. See also Der freie Satz, Fig. 62/1.

bar: 44 45 46
upper voice: b
,
b

c
lower voice: B
,
B

G minor harmonies: III

5

III
6
IV
had the master not anchored the middle chord by casting the root G into the
low register (see Tonwille 2, p. 29/i, p. 75, Fig. 1c; and also Freier Satz)
16
here
it is as if the step of a second IIIIV proceeded by dropping a third and a fth:
IIII

3
IV (see Harmonielehre, 127/pp. 23639)and had he not, in addition,
taken the b

of the upper voice over into the inner voice by means of substitution
and led the upper voice along in contrary motion. How striking is the fermata
right above the G chord, which belongs to what follows on account of its leading-
tone quality: in this case, it was the caesura of the basic motive that automatically
cooperated with the fermata.
Were the outer voices to have proceeded along the normal path from IV to V
(bars 4651), they would likewise have to have moved in parallel octaves:
bar: 46 50 51
upper voice: c c

d
lower voice: C C

G minor harmonies: IV

IV V
Here there were two possible remedies. The bass could retain its series of scale de-
grees CC

D (and at the same time present the normal line), in which case the
upper voice would have to have proceeded in contrary motion with 8
,
7 (as in-
dicated by the bass gures above IV

IV in the Urlinie graph); or the line could

remain in the upper voice, in which case the bass would have to have accommo-
dated it by inverting IV into a
6
3. Haydn chose the latter solution. Even with that
choice, a simpler type of voice-leading would have been possible:
bar: 46 50 51
upper voice: c c

d
lower voice: E
,
D

G minor harmonies: IV
6

IV
6
V
The master, however, enriched this voice-leading pattern by interpolating the
neighbor note F between the two E
,
s, on account of the F he then converted the
rst E
,
into a chromatic note, hence E

F:
17
bar: 46 48 50 51
upper voice: c c

d
lower voice: E (F) E
,
D

3 4
,
3
G minor harmonies: IV

IV V
(neighbor note)
{9} Moreover, he bestowed a wealth of passing events upon the return of the
neighbor note F to E
,
, the bass note of the inverted harmony (bars 4850); what
gave him suitable pretext for this was not only the higher octave of the neighbor
note (f
1
), which eventually had to be led back into the small octave, the genuine
register for conducting the bass line (see what was said above on the treatment of
the bass in bars 2024), but also the initial disposition of a fth at the outset of
the passing events on the downbeat in bar 48.
18
The pitch d, lying at the pinnacle
of the development sections [upper] line, is placed on I in G minor in bar 52,
whereupon a process of tonicization (raising the third during the course of the
fth-progression g
2
c
2
in bars 5354) leads toward the neighboring harmony (or
passing, as the case may be) on C ( IV) in bar 54.
19
tonwi lle 3
104
16
That is, the 56 exchange, which mitigates consecutive fths, nevertheless leaves the octaves
untouched. Schenkers combination of bass gures and Roman numerals in the diagram may be con-
fusing: the middle harmony (bar 45) is not a III chord in rst inversion but rather a rst-inversion
chord based on the chromatically raised third of the scale, whose fth has been replaced by a sixth.
On the technique of moving the root of a chord to the lowest voice (Auswerfen eines Grundtones),
see Der freie Satz, 247.
17
This interpretation is claried by later emendations to the graph of the Urlinie in BP18: a dot-
ted slur connecting the bass e

in bar 46 to e
,
in bar 50.
18
Schenker alludes to the obligatory register of the neighboring motion by placing the f in bar 48
in parenthesis and an arrow pointing from f to f
1
. In BP10 he added a dotted line connecting e

in bar
46 with e
1
in bar 47. Some type of passing event is necessary if the consecutive fths between the two
root-position chords IVIII are to be mitigated. The fth formed by the outer voices in bar 48 pro-
vides a root-position harmony, which, because of its stability, is capable of functioning as a point of
departure for an extended passing motion.
19
This was emended in the graph of the Urlinie in BP10, to relocate the goal of the tonicization
process to bar 55; a dotted slur connects the g
1
in bar 52 with the c
1
in bar 55.

The expansive elaboration of this particular triad simulates an independent
key:
bar: 5457 58 59 61 63 64
in C minor: I IV III
, 7
VI

IV V
In reality, however, this marvelous superabundance stems from the fact (see
the Urlinie graph) that the path from the root C (bar 57) to the next root G (bar
64) proceeds by way of the neighboring harmony F

7
5
3
, as is frequently the case; it
stems, moreover, from the fact that the path to this neighboring harmony in bars
5763 proceeds according to the law of a fth-progression falling beneath a
root,
20
taking the leaping-passing A
,
as the midpoint of the path. This is also why
Haydn once again repeats the root C [c
1
] on the downbeat of bar 57. And when
he immediately climbs a sixth to a
,
1
instead of dropping down a third, he does
this from the start with the intention of obtaining an opportunity for developing
diminution through the octave descent from the one-line octave to the small oc-
tave a
,
(bars 5761; see also bars 4 8 and 4849).
Unprecedented in its profundity is the continuation of the bass path in bars
6364. In bar 63, a
,
steps to g
,
, whereupon the listener feels justied in expecting
a progression like that in bars 44 45 and 4851 (in this case, to f), but suddenly,
in bar 64, g
,
is reinterpreted as f

, which leads upward to g. The triad on a

,
, so far
from perhaps being the key of A
,
major or VI of C minor, is instead merely a rest-
ing place in the elaboration; and the enharmonic reinterpretation, so far from
being just a move of desperation, a deus ex machinasurely the masters ear
heard the G triad well in advanceis instead a deception that should therefore
just intensify the surprising turn in the tale of the passing motion.
The diminution in this segment of the development provides the basic mo-
tive with every possible transformation. The line as a whole (see the Urlinie
graph) is equivalent to the ascent and descent of bars 12 in the exposition. In
more limited contexts, we see an augmentation in bars 44 45 (in half notes) and
a diminution in bar 46 (as in bar 27). New thirty-second-note runs and arpeg-
giations decorate the passing motion in bars 4850. And above and beyond that,
the gures from bar 47 onward coalesce into descending fth-progressions (indi-
cated by slurs in the Urlinie graph): from c
3
to f
2
in bars 4748 and from c
3
to f
2
in bars 4851 [recte: 4751], then from d
3
to f
2
in bars 5152 and from d
3
to g
2
in
bar 52; these linear progressions resemble and relate to the Urlinies linear pro-
gressions but here serve only the overarching line. In the end, however, all these
linear progressions are surpassed by both the expansive descent from d
2
[recte: d
3
]
to c
2
in bars 5354 (eected by the combination of two fth-progressions) and
the second descent from c
3
to b
1
in bars 5764 (as already mentioned above, the
second descent is executed in a dierent manner); both descents, of course, are
equivalent to mere steps of a second. {10} The motive of bar 6 (also bars 11) re-
turns for the rst time in the latter descent; from bar 61 on, new thirty-second-
note gures serve to emphasize the meaning of the passage (see earlier).
21
Bars 68. The downward movement pauses at rst on I

3
(bar 65 [recte: 64]),
which in itself does not contradict the key of G minor. The right to make such
an inection in a minor key sometimes derives from mixture (Harmony, 38/
pp. 84 ) and sometimes, as here, from the use of a neighboring harmony that, in
the chord succession of bars 5264, simulates the plagal harmonic succession
I

3
IV
,3
I

3
.
It would indeed have been possible to proceed from the G triad to the key of
E
,
major by means of the simpler voice-leading congurations shown below, each
of which obviously presupposes a reversion from

3 to the strictly diatonic

,
3:
Haydn bases his realization on the form shown in Fig. 2c (see bars 64 and 65
[recte: 75] in the Urlinie graph). Even if a raised third in III could in fact be
deemed an interval of mixture in a minor key, the origin of this inection as a
tonicizing chromatic note (see above) was nevertheless too fraught with signi-
cance for the master to have been able to decide to proceed simply from III

3
to
III
,3
in this passage of the development section. We therefore nd him taking
great pains to remove the chromatic harshness from the raised third. He achieves
this goal by taking the raised third which is laden with a leading-tone quality and
purging it of this quality right away in bar 68 in the rst 56 exchange, purifying
Haydns Sonata in E
,
Major, Hoboken XVI:52
105
20
[S]See Freier Satz and Tonwille 2, pp. 8, 35, etc./i, pp. 56, 82, etc.
21
The so-called meaning of the passage is that of a momentary resting place in the midst of a
passing motion; the increase in activity presented by the thirty-second-note gures underscores the
passing quality of the A
,
triad.

it as the fth of the E triad and later as the octave of the B triad; in this way he
denitively obstructs the path upward to the c to which the raised third originally
pointed and instead pushes it downward. Oh, how the master could conceal the
path! As if improvising, his inventiveness takes a detour in order to approach the
root F in the bass (bar 76) by way of F

(bar 75) that functions as a seemingly

chromatic passing tone. By means of several 56 exchanges (in which the sixths
develop into
6
5 sonorities) he describes a large arch in the bass, stretching upward
from G toward B and downward again toward F

. The deception obscuring the

path must succeed all the more easily when he not only reaches back to the be-
ginning of the development for the diminutions and motives, but also answers
the preceding progression
22
bcdcb with bc

dc

b and thereby elicits

the veritable impression of a consequent phrase. The ensuing moment is all the
more eective, since enharmonicism intervenes in bar 75 and the a

in the upper
voice, as b
,
, reinstates the main key, which then of course requires a G
,
in the bass
in place of F

.
Finally, let us remark on the development in its entirety. The path leads from
B
,
major, the key of the second subject, back toward the main key of E
,
major by
way of G minor. The rationale for this path is this: the G triad is contained in the
diatonic system of E
,
as III (see Harmony, 131/pp. 24650) and, from the per-
spective of voice leading, the path B
,
GE
,
conforms to the law of the descend-
ing fth-progression (here it is equivalent to VI in E
,
major).
23
{11} Bars 79. The recapitulation begins in bar 79. Here just a word about bars
108 [recte: 109]. They are to be understood as follows:
Accordingly, B
, ,
stands for A (

IV
( , 7)
). The notation suggested itself only be-
cause it was impracticable to express the neighbor note as aa
,
a.
Second Movement (Adagio)
All the powers of mind and spirit also united in the master Haydn to make him
t for the most pensive art of the Adagio. His innate sense of the nature of tones,
elevated in an improvisatory manner and invigorated by indefatigably rich prac-
tical experience; his secure sense of the Urlinies motion, the whole as well as the
part; his incomparable stamina along the way and undisturbed composure in un-
furling the magnicent sweeps of diminution that arise from his breadth of vi-
sion; his liking for rhetorical styleall these naturally conjure forth the miracle
of an Adagio.
In this case, the key of the movement immediately constitutes an unprece-
dented test of the Adagio mood that has never before been heard: between two
movements in E
,
major there stands a middle movement, this very Adagio, in E
major, a most extreme and unsurpassable tonal contrast (Harmonielehre, p. 379/
pp. 288 ).
24
Only complete condence of spirit, operative within the very rst
manifestation of the inventive faculty as a veritable conuence of design and deed
(What is invention? wrote Goethe, It is the conclusion of the search.),
25
could
venture such a jarring contrast without qualm. (Hence, this bold venture cannot
be imitated by a musician who can only seek an Adagio, instead of letting him-
self be found by it.)
The form of this Adagio is ternary, with the individual sections also exhibit-
ing ternary song form.
Two peculiar characteristics weave mysteriously through the piece. First,
whatever the section, the Urlinie always starts o from the pitch e; moreover, the
Urlinie always descends, too, along the way adopting requisite chromatic alter-
ations according to the key (mixture, modulation, return modulation).
26
This pe-
tonwi lle 3
106
} }
22
Zug: this passage gives clear evidence that, in 1921, Schenker was not yet using the term to mean
a unidirectional linear progression.
23
[S]See the fth-progressions mentioned earlier (e.g., C-A
,
-F

in bars 5664) or B
,
-G-E
,
in bars
16377 of the last movement.
24
Harmonielehre, 155, is concerned with chromaticism in the service of the diatonic system.
Schenker mentions Haydns sonata on account of its unusual tonal plan (p. 381/p. 290).
25
From Maximen und Reexionen.
26
On a sheet of paper inserted between pages 10 and 11 of BP10 is a slip of paper, headed by the
rubric Mischung (mixture), on which Schenker has sketched a concise voice-leading analysis of this
movement.
j



, , , , , ,
,
,
, , , , ,
,
, , ,
,
,
,
,
, ,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
,
, ,
,
,
,
,
,
Adagio
Mischung

8
^
5
^
3
(8
V8 7

culiarity lends the piece, if I may put it this way, an expression that is very nearly
like that of a chaconne or even a passacaglia, despite all the contrast in the lengths
of individual lines and the treatment of keys and diminution. Added to this is the
second peculiarity, namely, that the composers creative fantasy, likewise in all
sections, works its way from the lower register up to the initial pitch e over the
course of only two bars. What aristocratic composure, what creative, paternal joy
must the master have had, to cultivate and promote such singular, unique quali-
ties of the tonally begotten!
Bars 1. The arpeggiation of bars 12 leads upward to the e
2
of bar 3 as 8

in the
order intended by nature:
10(3)
8
5
1
. On closer inspection, the realization also displays
all the intervening tones, distributed among the various inner voices (see the Ur-
linie graph below). In the consequent phrase, the diminution veers o already at
the fth of the arpeggiation (bar 6), bending upward toward the chromatic b

,
from which point the diminution moves along in steps of a second, now travers-
ing two spaces of a third: b

in {12} the G

triad (a neighboring harmony

to II) and ef

in the triad of II (C

). It was already noted above that the Ur-

linie extracts only the e
2
in bar 7 from all these movements.
Bars 9. In reply to bar 7, the diminution of the rst ending (bar 8), where the re-
turn modulation occurs, brings the elaboration of a third, (d

e)f

a. This
connection must be present in our minds if we want to familiarize ourselves with
the rather hidden meaning of bars 910. To be sure, these bars, like bars 12 and
56, are still dedicated above all to preparing the e
2
in bar 10; but because the
diminution continues to move along the course set in bar 7 and the rst ending
see f

ga (mixture) in the upper voice at the turn of bars 9 and 10 and efg in
the inner voice at the turn of bars 1011it obscures the true state of aairs,
which the graph of the Urlinie claries. Twice we see a play about the pitch e: the
rst time with f

in the progression VI, based on mixture, and the second time

with a contrasting f

in

III

VI (the fortissimo helps strengthen the contrast);

and for precisely this reason it is not inappropriate to speak here, too, of an e
2
sus-
pended above both bars, similar to bars 12 and 56. The repositioning of the
voices resulted only so that the ascent b
1
e
2
(bars 910) could also be brought out
in this section as well. In bar 11,

65

4 ought to be regarded only as an elabo-

rative motion (see what was said about bars 14 15 and 2022 in the rst move-
ment) and thus only 6

ought to be taken into account, the resulting 8

5 thereby
becoming more evident.
Unlike the a
1
-section, the bass in the a
2
-section (bar 13) sets o in an up-
ward motion already in bar 14, and this then elicits the continued climb in bars
1517. What a beautiful event in the magical world of cause and eect! Consid-
ering that there is the same adherence to the lines initial tone (bars 1315) and
the same motivic organization, the decoration becomes more remarkable. Rep-
Haydns Sonata in E
,
Major, Hoboken XVI:52
107
etition of b
1
[in bar 14] serves the tonal rhetoric most eectively (see Kontra-
punkt i, pp. 64 [recte: 63]/pp. 43 ).
27
The closing bars (1618) use the motive
of bar 1; this use of the motive could easily mislead us about the true progress of
the Urlinie, which, despite the motive, takes the path to 1 via 2 (see the graph of
the Urlinie).
Bars 19. The B-section begins in E minor, but upon reaching e
2
it immediately
modulates to G major (as 6

), the key in which the cadential progression occurs

(5 1 ). In bar 19, the diminution constructs its ascent in steps of a second out of
the smallest motivic cell from the rst quarter of bar 1; in bar 20 it is answered
and exceeded by a run up three octaves; but again, only e
2
hovers above the two
bars. The rhetorical style of the two bars is continued even more starkly in the
following bars; note the many rests during the constant changes of guration. Ac-
cording to the counterpoint of the outer voices, the descending motion across
bars 21|22 is to be heard as a chain of thirds, which the reinforcing upper voice in
the left hand makes clear; omission of every other tone [in the right hand] is a
charming means for eluding the consecutive fths that are otherwise unavoidable
in a chain of thirds.
Bar 25. The modulation back to E minor occurs in bars 2526, and here the line
works its way up beyond b
2
in bar 26 to e
3
[in bar 27], although the point of de-
parture (d
2
in bar 25) did not lie nearly so high! One need only give a longer du-
ration to the pitch b
2
in bar 26 in order to recognize the rhythmic equivalence of
the motives; it is basically this:
{13} What was said of the Urlinie in bars 912 applies to its abbreviation in
bars 2728.
Bar 29. The a
2
-section is content with bringing forth 5 4, or really only 4, since
5 was already reached in bar 28. It is 4 that shall go to

3 of the A
2
-section. The 6

between 5 and 4 functions only as a neighbor note, occasioned by the parallel

sixths in the setting of the outer voices. Notice the anticipatory stratum of thirty-
seconds in the bass.
There now follows the repetition of A
2
, with even more remarkable orna-
mentation in some parts. The coda (bars 50) provides 8

3, which in a certain
sense is just a nal unfolding of the triad, since the Urlinie has already ended with
21 in bar 50. One should admire the appearance of the pedal point in bar 50
underneath the nal tones of the Urlinie (2 1 ) as an ingenious stroke of synthe-
sis. What artful keyboard writing, to take the actual pedal tone E with the right
hand in order that the right hand should no longer be disturbed from its rest by
the higher octave, which is rst played by the left hand and initiates the motion
8

7 6

. Of course, that makes it all the more dicult to secure a sonorous con-
tinuation for the E from bar 52 up to the third quarter of bar 53, the right hands
assumption of (5) 4 3 notwithstanding.
Third movement (Finale: Presto)
The nal movement follows the pattern of sonata form:
First Subject bars 128
Modulation 2844
Second Subject
rst part of the subject 4565
second part of the subject 6597
Closing Subject 97102
Development 103203
Recapitulation 203307
Bars 1. Broadly speaking, 3 and 4 rise upward in order to reach 5 (bars 17),
from which point the line falls to 1 (bar 27) (see the graph of the Urlinie, p. 109).
Since 3 and 4 are positioned on I and II, consecutive fths between the bass and the
inner voice lurk within an outer-voice counterpoint of thirds; the master removes
the consecutive fths by means of the fermata (bar 8), which also serves a rhetor-
ical purpose. (Even in strict chorale settings, open consecutives are often removed
by fermatas and, occasionally, by rests.) What adds to the eect of the fermata is
that, even in the rst eight bars (without detriment to the single Urlinie tone 3),
the diminution conjures up a small, self-contained world with the elaboration of
a third gfe
,
and two more nely integrated imitations. The ve repeated eighth
tonwi lle 3
108
27
This section, concerned with the prohibition of note repetition in the cantus rmus, includes a
number of examples of repeated notes in classical themes, for expressive eect.
Haydns Sonata in E
,
Major, Hoboken XVI:52
109
notes that open the movement form an anacrusis [Auftakt]; in principle, the
anacrusis makes two bars count as one; that is, it induces us to read the content
in smaller values. (Compare this, for example, to the anacrusic phenomenon of
Beethovens Fifth Symphony, Scherzo, in which the anacrusis appears similarly in
the form of , , , , in the notated 3/4 meter.) What art there is in letting such a
naturally given property of the musical composition thrive in synthesissuch
skill is given to genius alone. When the master immediately gives the repetition
of the anacrusis to the inner voice (left hand), he stands within the jurisdiction
of the law of procreation. Transferred to II (bars 916), the tonal creation must
now undergo an unmediated tonicization (see Harmony, pp. 338/pp. 256 )
amounting to F minor with the {14} leading tone e.
28
After the second fermata
(bar 16), the bass now takes the motive, as if in presenting b
,
a
,
g (bars 1618)
it felt called upon to carry out the motivic demands of repetition conclusively
and, in particular, to plant 5 at the peak of the descending line. But the rush of
quarter notes instead of half notes [in bar 18] must already make the listener sus-
picious. And in point of fact, above and beyond this deception (surely an inten-
tional one), the 5 of the upper register persists, at rst only as b
,
2
(bar 17), to be
sure, but from bar 19 on as b
,
1
(in the inner voice); in bar 24, 6

slips in only as a
neighbor note, and so when it nally returns to 5 in bar 25, that tone has already
turned into the upper voice, which leads the Urlinies fth-progression to its
end.
29
The upper voices resumption of the motive in bar 19 turns the originally
weak bar into a metrically strong one, until the next motivic reformulation (bar
28) again eects the change of a weak bar into a strong bar.
bar: 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30
_ _ _
_ _ _ _ _
Bars 28. The rst subject closes with a full cadence. An elaborated fourth, which
preserves the intrinsic rhythmic form of the anacrusis, opens the modulating
phrase; the rst tone of the linear progression (g
2
) already counts here as 6

of the
new key. The phrase proceeds to a half cadence by way of the following harmonic
progression in B
,
major: IIVIIV(

IV)V, while the Urlinie, with 6

5 4 3

4 5, ac-
tually travels 6

5. (With respect to 6

5

4 5 in bars 3844, see the rst movement,
bars 14 15, 2022 and the Adagio, bars 1112, 2728. But notice the dierence: on
the way from d
2
to f
2
it is better here to assume e rather than g.)
30
The diminution rst touches upon c
3
(bar 30), then e
,
3
(bar 34), and nally
even f
3
(bar 36); b
2
e
,
3
, hidden in the thirty-second-note gure, is a repetition of
the fourth-progression g
2
c
3
, and at the same time e
,
3
coincides with the Urlinies
tone. In bars 3637 the inner voice rises upward, for all the tones in bars 3944
belong to the inner voice below e
2
, even if they lie above it. The metrical groups
are to be read as changing every two bars.
Bars 44. The second subject then commences with V, a technique of which
todays composers are no longer capable. It merges with the modulating phrase
in such a way, however, that even the anacrusic formation falls by the wayside; but
it is of course recovered right away in bars 4647 and 4849, in the form of both
the elaborated fourth and the repeated tones. It is important to become aware of
the metrical arrangement:
bars 4445 |4647 |4849 |505152 |5354 |5556 |5758 |5960 |6162 |6364 |65
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
three-bar group
The transfer of 2 1 into a higher register (bars 54 56) is elicited by f
3
in bar
49; the register transfer serves to connect the two Urlinie segments, 5 1 and 6

1
in bars 44 56 and 5865, in such a way that they seem as if they lie in one line,
at least from c
3
on (bar 54). What artistic skill, binding parts together for the sake
of a higher unit! The assumed in bars 5052 represents an expansion whose pur-
pose is merely to strengthen and dene the root of I (B
,
) more clearly, before the
bold venture of the fourthprogression {15} b
,
f is undertaken in the bass (bars
5255); moreover, according to the law of strict counterpoint (see Kontrapunkt i,
pp. 331/pp. 257 ), the subsequent suspension gures requires us to equate the
tonwi lle 3
110

28
Unmittelbare Tonikalisierung (rendered as direct tonicalization in Harmony): in an unmedi-
ated tonicization, there is no tonicizing chord that would indicate the tonicity of II in advance.
29
Schenker later amended the graph of the Urlinie in BP10, interpreting g
1
as the initial tone of
the Urlinies third-progression that spans bars 127 and is resumed by g
2
in the transition section,
leading to f
2
in bar 44. Note that the Urlinie graph is missing V beneath bars 2526.

}
- -
30
Schenkers later emendations to BP10 sever a connection between d
2
and f
2
by interpreting d
2
as passing within the g
2
g
1
octave. He also emended this portion of the Urlinie graph: a dotted slur
connects g
2
in bar 30 with g
2
in bar 38; a slur connects d
2
in bar 36 with g
1
in bar 38; a slur connects
e
,1
in bar 30 with e
,
in bar 36; and VI
,7
beneath the bars are enclosed in parentheses. All this
points to an interpretation of g
2
as 6

above an embedded harmonic cycle elaborating the predomi-

nant of B
,
major, thus clarifying the claim made in the text regarding 6

5 as the main path of the Ur-

linie in this section. Schenker appears to have realized that a passing motion from d
2
to f
2
(a B
,
-major
span) was incompatible with his assertion that g
2
(not a B
,
-major triad pitch) is in play until the ar-
rival on f
2
. Nor does d
2
make a consonance with g
2
in an appropriate way.
suspensions with metrically strong bars, and their resolutions with weak ones.
The suspension formations were introduced by the motive-form in the three-bar
group, which is in turn elicited by the anacrusis [in bars 4849]:
The fourth-progression in the bass (bars 4955) shows minor-mode mixture,
b
,
a
,
g
,
f. By means of the suspension b
2
c
3
in bars 5354, the consecutive
fths between f e
,
and b
,
a
,
are avoided.
The deceptive cadence in bar 56 necessitates a new cadential progression. The
Urlinie brings 6

before 5, thereby underscoring the reinforcement of cadential

closure; and therein, too, lies proof that the 6

of bar 38 also belongs to the mod-

ulating phrase, wherefore the master had to weave it unmistakably into the
diminution at that point.
Bars 65. The second part of the subject begins with I, in this way answering the
rst part, which had begun with V. As happens so frequently, 5 is placed on top
of 1 as the beginning of the new Urlinie motion. As the graph of the Urlinie
shows, the line tarries for quite a long time at 5 (until bar 83), since e

as 4 (bars
7374) and g
,
as 6

(bars 8081) cling to 5 with only the eect of neighbor notes.

All the other gural play belongs to inner voices (see the graph of the Urlinie).
The repetition of the passage in bars 8597 is an enlarged reinforcement of ca-
dential closure. Although the nal eighth notes supplied with sf in bars 7881
basically belong to the following downbeats, in and of themselves they describe
VII
,
7
(a

ce
,
g
,
) before V
7
, something that has the eect of a suspension,
amounting here to g
,
(bar 80) before f (bar 82). (More will be said of this tech-
nique in Freier Satz.) The motive of bars 79 is of special signicance: if the
upper neighbor note (g
,
) was intended for use in this group of bars (see earlier),
the contracted motive of bar 79 already alludes to it in the very rst instance! Also
related to the very same play of neighbor notes is the diminution of bars 9192,
with de
,
e
,
d in the inner voice! The metrical arrangement is unperturbed in
this section; but the fermata in bar 77 should be regarded as a genuinely Haydn-
esque caesura.
The closing subject (bars 97) unrolls 6

1 above I as a nal reinforcement of

cadential closure. The sixteenth-note motion in the left hand enters beneath the
concluding 1 .
Bars 103. The development begins with a modulation to C minor, thematically
using both the Urlinies motive of a third (bars 24) and also the motive of bars
78. The following metrical reinterpretation suits the new event of bar 106:
bar: 103104105106 107
_ _
_
The longer sojourn on I in bars 10618, as well as all the movement in this group
of bars, has to be traced back to:
bar: 106 107 112 118
I
,3

3 4

3
(see Freier Satz).
31
It is clear that in such a case it comes down to the neighbor-
note motion 34 3, which, when the triad is minor, easily and for good reason
includes a raising of the minor third on the way to the neighbor note, but by no
means does that give us leave to speak of a major triad here, to say nothing of a
key of C major or F minor (compare the rst movement, bars 5264). {16} The
diminution is supplied with the anacrusis motive of bars 2829. Bars 11822
merely bring condensed versions [of the descent from c
3
in bars 11216].
In bar 124, there occurs a further modulation to A
,
major. Here it is the basic
motive that is placed at the start of the phrase; imitations follow, just as at the be-
ginning of the movement, but the second imitation here undergoes an expansion
(bars 12834) in which 3 is preceded by 4. (The sixteenth-note guration alludes to
this with d
,
c in bars 12930, 13132, and 13334; see the graph of the Urlinie.) The
modulation back to the main key occurs in bar 135. Next there follows an imitation
of what preceded in bars 128 and following. This would have led to 3 2 1 in E
,
major
as early as bar 146 (compare bars 13435) had the master not prevented this by let-
ting 3 4 rise upward to 5, thereby obtaining the linear progression that starts by
reaching back to 6

in bar 178. The diminution in this group of bars uses neighbor-

note gures (see the graph of the Urlinie): b
,
cb
,
in bars 14849 and ab
,
a in
bars 15051. In order to understand the intricate and ingenious way in which the
content of the subsequent passage is treated, let me begin with a brief illustration:
Haydns Sonata in E
,
Major, Hoboken XVI:52
111

31
In the graph of the Urlinie in BP10, Schenker has crossed out the

3 in bar 107, thus bringing

the Urlinie into line with what is said in the next sentence.
Just as an elaboration of a third strives in bars 14647 toward 5 (bar 148), the
elaboration of a third(
,
5)

5 6
,
7 in bars 160 continues that ascent and
strives for 6

, which always contributes so much energy to 5 and thus to the entire

linear progression that rolls down from the fth scale degree. Insight into these
relationships is made dicult for two reasons: rst, the neighbor-note gures
(see earlier) are continuedb

cb

in bars 164 66 and cd

,
c in bars 17578;
and, second, the voiceleading in bars 16376, which executes a fth-progression
in the bass
32
having the harmonic signicance of VI, not only simulates III

3
in
the middle of its course (bar 164; see Tonwille 2, pp. 8, 35, etc./i, pp. 56, 82, etc.)
but also withholds the root of I at the very moment (bar 175) that c
2
rst appears
in the upper voice, a pitch that ultimately acts as an accented passing tone lead-
ing to d
,
2
, the genuine seventh of the chord in question. And in the midst of all
these events, a fermata in bar 170! The thematic material starting in bar 171 orig-
inates from the second subject, including the percussive fortissimo chords in bars
17879. The tone repetition in this passage is intended to bring about the reca-
pitulation. In addition, the anacrusis motive is also used here in the form of the
elaborated fourth (bars 2829), now heard in inversion as well (see bars 17273,
bars 185). The passage now proceeds downward from 6

in an improvisatory
manner and is articulated over and over again into segments of a third (see the
graph of the Urlinie); the outer voices basically move in thirds:
and the diminution of the lower voice touches upon the roots merely as so-called
extrapolated roots (see Freier Satz).
33
A sequence in sixths starts in bar 190. {17}
The motive of a third (fe
,
d) even steals into the elaboration of the fermata in
bar 202, as a herald of the recapitulations gfe

Haydns synthesis in general:

In the heavens, as it were, the diatonic stars of the Urlinie, and down below
the prodigious generation of motives, one series of tones after another, seed and
fruitstars orbiting and motives sprouting, teeming with life. It is one thing
when 5 initiates the Urlinie and something quite dierent when 6

appears before
5, and again something altogether dierent when 8

7 6

precede 5: each of these

signies a turn of fate for the motives, harmonic degrees, and voice-leading. The
conception of diminution occurs in the impenetrable, mysterious recesses of the
mind and eludes an ear only accustomed to gaping at the oft-noted thematic de-
velopment in a shamelessness that, from the standpoint of craft, is barren and
desolate.
34
A constant interaction of the operative forces: sometimes the con-
straint of repeating a motive impels new harmonic degrees and Urlinie tones to
appear, while at other times the Urlinie and harmonic degrees, with their own
constraint, make a new motive credible. Even in the course of a single Urlinie
progression, the motives change into new forms (whether actually or only ap-
parently new) in order to clarify a certain harmonic degree or group of degrees
and, at the same time, to shed, as it were, the light of the Urlinies star within the
scope of the musical idea. Necessity, order, light everywherethe synthesis of a
true, resplendent reection of Gods creation.
That is Haydns synthesis, purely German, ingeniously German. It is the same
as the synthesis we nd in his younger fellow artists Mozart and Beethoven (see
Tonwille 2), and it had to be the same, because no other kind of synthesis can
arise within the diatonic system and the immutable laws of voice-leading. Indeed,
synthesis is nothing other than a particular, a tonal individual, in the process of
its own growth! But only the genius can hear and detect this; it remains forever
mute to the nongeniuses, who transfer the practices of others to their own tonal
design, hearing, so to speak, with foreign ears. True synthesis cannot be imitated
by ear, it is not learnable and not teachable, and so no teacher showed Haydn the
path to it: neither the models of Mathias Franck, Georg von Reutter, Porpora (no
matter how much Haydn believed he had to be grateful to him), nor even the
model of Emanuel Bach would have suced in his youth, had Haydn not pos-
sessed a genius of his own, one that nally allowed him to go his own way.
35
If
tonwi lle 3
112
32
The basss fth-progression passes in steps of a third: B
,
GE
,
.
33
Ausgeworfene [Grundtne]: see note 16.
34
Schenker contrasts the fecundity of genius with the barrenness of the non-genius: it is within
Scham (privy parts, hence recesses) of the geniuss mind that diminution is conceived, while the
non-genius gapes with Schamlosigkeit (shamelessness or without privy parts, hence barren).
35
In 1737 or 1738 the young Haydn left his native Rohrau for the nearby town of Hainburg, where
he would live with his second cousin, a school principal and choir director by the name of Johann
Mathias Franck; Haydn presumably learned the rudiments of music under Francks tutelage. In 1739
or 1740, Haydn was recruited to be a choirboy at the Stephansdom in Vienna by the Kapellmeister,
Georg von Reutter (170872). In the 1750s, Haydn became the keyboard accompanist, valet, and pupil
of Nicola Antonio Porpora (16861768) while Porpora was living in Vienna; Haydn claimed to have
learned the true fundamentals of composition from Porpora.
there is also life on other planets (and who could have any doubts about that), it
originated independent of the life on our planet, in the fountainhead of God, just
as our planets life originated independent of that life. It is no dierent in the
world of genius: as a mental, psychical whole, every genius remains a cosmos
unto itself, and all geniuses draw their creative energy from God, and from him
alone. And it is also the same in the world of the individual creation: Let there
be light resounds in the mind of the genius, and when the very rst animate
tonal creature stirs therein, it becomes fruitful and multiplies after its own kind,
and not the kind of a dierent tonal creature.

Haydn was God-fearing; he received succor and solace from above; from the
depths of his heart he thanked everyone who showed him any sort of aection;
he was kind and charitable, ready to forgive, even when oense was given; he rose
above the most bitter fate through his artistic virtues, strongly and serenely. Was
he not Kappelmeister to Count Morzin, and to the Prince of Esterhazy and did
he not dine with this lords other functionaries? Yes, indeed, and nevertheless in
the presence of princes he was freer than all those who, even at the time, relished
the freedom of the Anglo-French Enlightenment; he was also {18} freer than all
those who today so aectatiously bask in the sunlight, enlightened by Karl Marxs
arithmetic primerhow telling that the new freedom was brought on by a book
about capital! Genius was Haydns freedom, the sole true freedom that can be al-
lotted to a man; for to those not so blessed, freedom means money and maw, no
matter how ardently they pretend to wrestle with ethics, religion, polity, democ-
racy, partisan issues, and the like. (As one saying by Goethe puts it: Mankind is
constrained by its needs. If they are not met, it proves impatient; if they are, it ap-
pears indierent. The actual man thus moves between these two conditions, and
he will apply his understanding, so-called human understanding, to satisfy his
needs; when that happens, he has the task of lling the void of indierence. And
when this task is conned within the most immediate and necessary limits, he
succeeds in it as well. But if his needs become more serious, if they lie outside the
realm of the ordinary, then common sense will no longer suce, he is a genius
no longer, and the region of error yawns open before him.)
36
Mozart and Beethoven revered Haydn as a supernatural being, even though
they were permitted to see him with their own eyes and shake his handeveryone
else, musician and non-musician alike, called him Papa Haydn and, patroniz-
ingly, extolled merely his lively genuineness, good humor, and exuberance, for
they saw not into the depths of his spirit.
Papa Haydn! But soon the children desert him, as children are wont to do
with fathers, and yet they would have done better had they allowed their spiritual
capacities for perfection and profundity to be trained by him. But that is the Ger-
man way: always out when a genius pays them a visit. No sooner does the Ger-
man read a foreign-language book or hear a piece from another nations music,
than his power of judgment is wrested from him simply by the joy of mastering
and comprehending the foreign tongue or the foreign musical world. (The peoples
of the West and South lack the talent and inclination for assimilating foreign
things to such a degree.) And so, in all cases, he unconsciously overvalues the for-
eign, much in the way a pianist unconsciously prefers a piece, say, by Liszt or
Tchaikovsky to one by Mozart or Beethoven, simply because it atters his self-
image to have his hands full of keys . . . (Amazing indeed are the paths of prog-
ress that mediocre men travel, as reactionaries.) So it came to be that Haydn, and
the younger masters along with him, had quite soon been betrayed by their own
contemporaries under the claim of progress toward the unspeakably wretched
dilettantism of French musical Romanticism; at that time they had reached the
point of calling Berlioz, for example, a French Beethoven, but now they are well
on the way to calling Beethoven a German Berlioz.
But what can Haydn say to the present? A genius versus the masses? Divine
blessing and a superhuman power to work (even in his last years Haydn worked
fourteen to sixteen hours a day!)? or: masses of idleness, incited and deluded by
the notion that the ultimate watchword of mankind should be its physical needs?
The profundity of a genius stimulated by the profundity of a material forever
craving to produce ospring, a glimpse of an eternity pervaded by material and
genius? or: the shallowness of merely one [sterile] generation, expressed in turn
through shallowness of understanding, inventiveness, and humanity? How can
Haydns genius be grasped by a purely brutish muttering of impressions or, for
that matter, by the sincerely expressed conviction that education is a commodity
that can and must be given, as if geniuses could be fried up and tossed into the
mouth?
{19} And Haydns future? Like that of every genius. Whether poorly performed
or distributed in corrupt texts, or whether drooled over in the idle chit-chat of
loathsome, presumptuous ignorance, the miracle of synthesis must, and will, pre-
serve Haydn for all eternity! For no matter how many evil things may rightfully be
Haydns Sonata in E
,
Major, Hoboken XVI:52
113
36
From Maximen und Reexionen.
ascribed to mankind, divine favor has nonetheless not abandoned it; mankind, it-
self called to life organically, is now directly, as if viscerally and instantaneously, at-
tracted to and captivated by the organic wherever it appears, including art. In all
ages, therefore, mankind will feel an ineable sense of the hidden majesty of the
organic in Haydn, even long after it will have lost all that excited it through means
it could muster at will, if only just that once and yet so skillfully.
The German nation, defrauded of everything that it had appropriated from
the Western nations, may perhaps long today more than ever for an independ-
ent geniusand that is right and tting, too. Even the German climate itself
nourishes a unique type of genius.
37
Just as fugues or sonatas could not thrive
under the hot suns of Egypt or India (for it is no dierent with fruits of the spirit
than it is with fruits of the soil), it is inconceivable that the North (if we restrict
our attention to Europe) could be southernized in spirit or, vice versa, that the
South could be northernized. Let us look at the example of diminution: inde-
pendent of nation and climate, diminution on its own grew organically within
the life of the tones and became the common property of all music; neverthe-
less, North and South soon parted ways in the practice of diminution: the Ger-
man masters, following the dictates of the German climate, valued diminution
above all as a means for achieving a profound synthesis, while the masters of the
South, again following the dictates of their climate, fostered dazzling change
more than the logical consecution of synthesis. Thus, it is pointless to demand
a new type of genius in Germany, one that is indeed German but also (to use a
frequently invoked expression) dancelike [tnzerisches] in the manner of the
Romance nations. If every genius is dancelike, since he dances round the
precipices of profound depths, and if, accordingly, a Haydn, Mozart, or Beetho-
ven is as dancelike in the most mournful adagio as in the most exuberant nale,
then on the whole the German genius is also as dancelike as any Latin genius.
Whatever fusion of musical North and South was possible has already been in-
troduced into music in ages past, by our great masters themselves, in factnow
there is no longer anything in the South, and absolutely nothing in music, that
could await fusion. Synthesis was the most sublime fruit of music, and what
matters is to continue cultivating this and this alone, no matter how new con-
tent is created and extended!
The path that leads to knowledge of synthesis, whether it serves to stimulate
the creative faculty or the ability to recreate in performance, is none other than
the path that I am here the rst to show. It was a delusion when past generations
imagined they had penetrated Haydns essence and profundity, and again a delu-
sion to believe that each generation approaches such a genius in its own manner
and that true knowledge results only from the sum total of these varying views;
futile, too, is the call often heard today: Back to Haydn, to Mozart and Beetho-
ven!for to which Haydn? to the Haydn that is not understood? And since a
true genius is never a phenomenon of the past alone but also of an eternal future,
must it not actually be Forward to Haydn!?No, no, there is but one true path,
the path to synthesis, and it can only be traveled, to repeat myself, in no other way
than the one I have shown here. And so I quote here what Goethe said to Ecker-
mann: Error belongs to librarians, the True belongs to the human {20} spirit
and, adapting Goethes words, I issue a call: The fathers are the True! On to the
fathers, to Father Haydn!
38
tonwi lle 3
114
37
The eect of climate on individual creativity and group culture is a theme that Schenker re-
turned to in the Miscellanea of later writings (Meisterwerk i, p. 212/p. 117 and ii, p. 202/pp. 12122).
38
On a slip of paper inserted between pages 16 and 17 of this essay in a personal copy of Tonwille
3 (BP10), Schenker made the following notes concerning Georg August Griesingers Biographische No-
tizen ber Joseph Haydn (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hrtel, 1810):
Haydn
Griesinger, 104/105: Wenn ein Meister ein oder zwei vorzgliche Werke geleistet habe, so sei
sein Ruf gegrndet, seine Schpfung werde bleiben, u. die Jahreszeiten giengen wohl auch
noch mit.
!! Quartette, Trios, Son. ?
NB erinnert an Bs Ausspr. ber op. 106
Gries. bergroer Respekt vor Cherubini ( Beeth, ja auch noch Brahms)deutsches
Erbbel
on Haydn:
(Griesinger, pp. 104 5: []If a master produced one or two excellent works, that would be
enough to establish his reputation.[] His Creation will survive, and so, surely, will The
Seasons.
!! [And what of all those] quartets, trios, sonatas?
NB This reminds [me] of what Beethoven said about Op. 106.
Griesinger refers to Haydns disproportionate veneration of Cherubini (the same applies to
Beethoven, and even to Brahms)the malady of German inheritance.
Schenkers transcription fails to show that Griesinger is actually quoting, or paraphrasing, Haydn
in the rst sentence. The NB refers to a remark that Beethoven is reported to have made to
Domenico Artaria, the publisher of the Hammerklavier Sonata (Op. 106): There you have a sonata
that will force the pianist to be creative, a sonata that people will still be playing in fty years time.
(This is quoted it in the Miscellanea of Meisterwerk ii.) Further notes for an unnished article on
Haydn by Schenker are found in File 49 of the Oster Collection.

There is almost no literature on Haydnit is tempting to say Thank God for

that. In the eyes of teachers and writers, it is as if this mountain of truth towering
upward to the stars has disappeared, veritably shriveled to a res derelicta. For the
most part, Haydns name and circumstances only come up when someone chat-
ters on at length about Mozart and Beethoven. Here is proof of this point of view:
Marx calls the sonata spirited, sparkling in the merriest of moods (Kompo-
sitionslehre, part 3).
39
I confess, I hear it as seriously great, indeed sublime, yet that
is beside the point, for it is more important to show that Marx did not at all
understand how to read the work.
The kernel of the principal theme [here follows a quotation of bars 13]
is continued with new motives used more as a transitional passage [gn-
gartig] up until the introduction of a full cadence.
But arent these new motives used more as a transitional passage in fact the
very esh and blood ospring of the content in bar 2, and does it not make a
mockery of something so organic to distinguish here between a kernel and new
motives? Although the impulse to compose constrains a genius, as does nature,
which can attain all that she desires to make only in a series of events (Goethe),
the average ear fails when faced with the force and fullness of such necessary pro-
duction of ospring. How ossied are the words is continued . . . up until the in-
troduction of a full cadence, used for the lively, clearly directed way in which the
host of tones pull and sweep from the upper register to the lower and up again,
right up to the place in bar 8 that is the only register corresponding to bar 2!
This is what Marx says about the consequent phrase (bars 9):
. . . whereupon the kernel returns in the following bar [the ninth bar]
[quotation of bars 910] with a new continuation that brings us, quite in
harmony with our law of modulation, through the dominant of the dom-
inant [F major, in bar 13].
Once again Marxs eyes and ears are stuck on the kernel; but that rhapsodic,
ingenious plunge of 6

5 4 3 2 1 , how it is peculiar only to Haydn and recurs so fre-

quently in his works, remains entirely outside the bounds of his aural and men-
tal grasp. Even the reader by now knows that the continuation of bars 1113 is
in no sense new but, rather, according to the Urlinie and also the thematic as-
pect, closely connected with the preceding events.
Bars 17 are not yet the second subject for Marx; he hears only this:
But here the kernel of the principal theme returns and is once more con-
tinued in a new manner (although similarly bound to the previous con-
tinuation). [Quotation of bars 1718.]
The words in parentheses suddenly reveal to us that Marx himself obviously
limited what he calls the kernel merely to the rst three quarter notes of bar 1
(or 9 or 17), since otherwise he could not have confused the full completion of
(6

) 5 4 3 2 1 in bars 910 with 6

5 4 3 in bars 1718, despite the presence of thirty-

second notes in both passages! Was it even possible for Marx to understand the
progress of the second subject in its rational necessity?
Marx does not touch upon the actual subordinate theme not until bars 27,
about which he writes:
This theme, in terms of its total content, is thoroughly separate from the
principal theme, yet after only six bars, it leads back again to the same
content [quotation of bars 3335]; only then does it proceed to the clos-
ing theme and the end of the exposition.
Apparently, then, the cadential progression closing the rst part of the second
subject played a mean trick on Marx: solely on account of this cadential progres-
sion, which was indeed impossible to mistake, he explains bars 27 as in terms
of its total content, thoroughly separate from the principal theme even though
here, as we know, all the diminution strictly and clearly hews to the paths of the
progenitor (the Urlinie progression in bar 2), including the caesura rhythm. The
mystery of musical reproduction remains impenetrable to Marx when a musical
God the Father like Haydn directs the destiny of a tonal world. The kernel he
has read into the music is, naturally, the kernel that he nds thereinas it is the
search for that kernel alone that also occupies him in the development section:
Of the development only this much needs to be mentioned here: the sub-
ordinate theme, which in the exposition we had to see as neglected to a
certain extent relative to the principal theme, is here introduced twice, the
second time quite cleverly, while the kernel of the principal theme nds
Haydns Sonata in E
,
Major, Hoboken XVI:52
115
39
Adolph Bernhard Marx, Die Lehre von der musikalischen Komposition, praktisch-theoretisch,
vol. 3 (Angewandte Kompositionslehre), 3rd ed. (Leipzig: Breitkopf und Hrtel, 1857).
no place and returns only in the recapitulation, though it asserts itself
there just as strongly as in the exposition.
{21} And straightway the false conclusions that had to follow:
[Haydn] prefers to adhere to the principal theme as the subject that, as the
beginning and source, should also be the goal and midpoint of the entire
composition. This stress was not laid on it for its own sake: for it is not
particularly important nor more dicult to grasp than the subordinate
theme (rather the contrary). Nor is the composer inclined to prefer it
above other phrases: for it is nished each time, after a brief interruption,
in a dierent and very loose manner, while the subordinate theme ap-
pears again in the development with importance and logically consistent
continuation. Only for the sake of a more tightly knit unity and deport-
ment of the whole does this return to the principal theme occur in a con-
text that belongs to the subordinate theme.
Marx does not detect the sacred reproduction, nor is he capable of following
the thread of the Urlinie, nor the constraint of the harmonic degrees or voice-
leading, and so Haydns world must appear to him as one in which a principal
theme that is nished each time, after a brief interruption, in a dierent and very
loose manner. Indeed, he believes Haydn was even wanting in spirit:
Haydn must have found himself bound to attend to the deportment and
comprehensibility of his composition, an attention that in our time is in
no sense necessary to the same degree and would now have to seem
superuous, burdensome, constricting. . . . Music has since attained a
stronger awareness of its content, greater security and certainty of its de-
sign, and has thus earned the right and the duty to proceed more decisively,
without inhibition. In a composer like Beethoven, music develops the prin-
cipal theme of the sonata with complete decisiveness and a higher degree
of satisfaction in order to be able then to abandon it entirely with as much
decisiveness and move into the subordinate theme, which only now has ob-
tained a similar freedom to unfold in fullness and without perturbation.
But this observation, too, is not sound. For if we consider just the thirty-
four piano sonatas of Haydn,
40
perhaps only six repeat the technique of this so-
nata, introducing the second subject with the motive of the rst; the others,
therefore a considerable majority, present a new motive in the second subject.
Moreover, very little depends on the motivic novelty of the second subject: what
really matters is necessity in the continuation, necessity in the overall course of
synthesis.
Riemanns lack of relation to Haydn can be displayed more clearly in his in-
terpretation of one of Haydns symphonies. He is too full of his god Stamitz to be
able to open his ears to the world of Haydn. In his Handbuch der Musikgeschichte,
for example, we read:
41
There are quite intelligible reasons for the slow development of Haydns
fame: the electrifying qualities of the ery spirited Johann Stamitz, who
struggled toward new means of expression in the overabundance of pas-
sionate feeling, were foreign to Haydns plain and unsophisticated dispo-
sition. [Etc.]
I will limit myself here to repeating his summary judgment on the keyboard
music:
Haydns keyboard music . . . looks like orchestral music from the outset;
it not only lets the viola and bassoon occasionally have their say, so to
speak, but also leaps quite audaciously from one register to another; thus
it is perhaps more progressive than the orchestral music itself. This point
of view is also important when it comes to assessing Beethovens rela-
tionship to the two masters, since Beethoven stands closer to Haydn than
to Mozart right from the start (even with the early works of the Bonn
years). Surely it is open to question whether that must be attributed to
Haydns direct inuence or perhaps instead to Beethovens contact with
Schobert, who loved the darker tints and knew to esteem the eects of the
pianos lower registers; but perhaps it should also be attributed to the
early emergence of a personal distaste for overly bright soprano eects,
such as we nd, for example, in the keyboard music of Eichner. His fa-
miliarity, too, with the music of Philipp Emanuel Bach and even Sebastian
Bach, which Neefe is said to have conveyed to him, can have contributed
to this. Haydns own predilection for humorous eects is certainly a fac-
tonwi lle 3
116
40
Schenker based his count of Haydn sonatas on Khler and Roitzschs edition (see note 1).
41
Hugo Riemann, Handbuch der Musikgeschichte, vol. 2, part 3 (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hrtel, 1913;
in the second edition, revised by Alfred Einstein (1922), these extracts appear on pp. 171, 170, and 168.
tor that early on led him to abrupt alternation of high and low eects on
the keyboard, eects which, as his experience with orchestral composi-
tion grew, he ventured to transfer to the symphony as well.
Haydns mighty synthesis, the wide expanse of his world, his musical rheto-
ric, moving in constraint and freedom, the peculiarity of his pauses and fermatas?
Bah! Schobert, Eichner, Neefe, Sebastian Bach, Emanuel Bach, andHaydn the
humorist: that is how Riemann sees Haydn the keyboard composer. And even in
listening to Haydns symphonic and keyboard music he discovers only Stamitz,
Richter, Filtz, Toeschi, Schobert, and Handel, granted, in a simplicity and cheer-
fulness bordering on exuberanceyes, Haydn the humorist, who, in the best
sense of the word, is the most popular master . . . How humorous, and yet it
makes one weep!
That is how the literature on Haydn stands!
Haydns Sonata in E
,
Major, Hoboken XVI:52
117
I asked a highly gifted composer on one occasion about the gist of the opening
bars of the Prelude in F

, from the rst book of Bachs Well-Tempered Clavier:

In bar 1 he read scale degree I, in bar 2 he read IV on account of the 76 on the
downbeat, and in bar 3 he read V. I objected to this reading, whereupon he sought
to hear I in bars 12 and V in bar 3, and nally even attempted to hear I in all three
bars. But I also rejected these two interpretations as well, and, in order to make
matters brief, I remarked: Are you surprised if I read the passage as follows?
1
The other mans eyes opened wide . . .
And then I declared the tone c
2
in bar 2 to be the seventh of VI, meaning that
it passes from one chord to another, from one harmonic degree to another, here
from VI to II, and therefore not a suspension, which would have to refer to the
6
3-chord of IV; this is a distinction in layout and eect that is of greatest signi-
cance for the contrapuntal setting, as I show in Kontrapunkt ii, pp. 100/pp. 101
3 and 209/pp. 214 17 and in Freier Satz.Accordingly, I accounted for the move-
ment of the upper voice in bar 2 as an adornment of the seventh, which extends
only by a trie what is already permitted in strict counterpoint:
I went on and showed the fth-progression in the bass falling from the root of VI
to that of II and how the decoration [of the upper line] is tted to it like an inner
voice, with suitable intervals that are, in themselves, consonant (Kontrapunkt ii,
pp. 171/pp. 17577). During the fth-progression, in the upbeat, the chord on G

arises through the coincidence of mutual passing excursions, but without want-
ing to eect scale degree II at this point.
2
Still dwelling on bar 2, I explained the
second sixteenth a

(Fig. 1) as the fth that lls out the sonority with the seventh
(7/5) and the third sixteenth b
1
, {23} which initiates the succession of upper sixths,
as a neighbor note between the two c
2
s. And nally, going over into the third bar,
I declared that [the following] f
1
in the inner voice is yet again a seventh (of II),
as given in Fig. 4a, and not as in Fig. 4b:

118
The Art of Listening
Die Kunst zu hren {Tonwille 3, pp. 2225}
t r a ns l at e d b y r ob e rt s na r re nb e r g
1
In a copy of Tonwille 3 in the Oster Collection (Books and Pamphlets, No. 10), Schenker has added
a d

to the tenor voice at the end of the rst bar of Fig. 2a, together with the bass guring 5 6, and also
5 6 above the rst two bass notes in Fig. 2b; these markings suggest that he considered, after all, inter-
preting the harmonic change (IVI) as the eect of a 56 exchange within a single harmonic degree (I).
2
Upbeat here refers to the second half of the notated bar. Because he regards free composition
as a prolongation of strict counterpoint, Schenker conceives each bar as having but two metrical
parts: downbeat and upbeat. The connection between strict and free composition is further expli-
cated by using the rhythmic format of species counterpoint (e.g., the whole notes and half notes in
Figs. 2b and 3).
and that, because of the altered behavior of the inner voice and thus in contrast
to the descent in bar 2, the descent of the bass under the root of II already brings
about a change of harmonic degree (V) in the upbeat at the simultaneity
c

e
.
Striving to rm up my explanation, I additionally pointed out that it would
be rather out of place to linger on only one or two harmonic degrees, seeing as
how Bach modulates to C

major starting in the fourth bar; he would then al-

ready have modulated away scarcely having expressed one or two scale degrees,
an assumption that must remain excluded so long as there is the possibility of a
more discriminating conception.
But what does it matter, the other man objected, whether it is read this way
or that, provided that the principal melodic meaning is not endangered?
I replied: I know very well that these days it does not occur to anyone to take
such discriminations seriously, yet I must tirelessly point out that perception and
performance would lose nothing of their intrinsic value if the series of tones were
also correctly understood just as the master intended, no more than the master
himself forfeited his personal feeling when he brought into being the series of
tones in the way that I understand it. Again and again it must be stressed, I con-
tinued, that it is high time to guide the ear toward better listening. Just as a eld
needs manure, so, too, must todays ear, an ear that has become completely bar-
ren, be supplied with fertilizer, so to speak, in order to improve its productive ca-
pacity. And what could be better suited to this end than to guide the ear down
those paths along which our great masters have created such novel and ingenious
varieties and prolongations of the fundamental laws?
While I thus spokeand how often had I not also had other occasions to
complain to this same musician about the need today for a musical ear!he
seemed to be lost in thought. Suddenly he exclaimed:
Yes! But Bach, in writing, had it easier than I, who want to decipher the
nished thing. For if he held only to the root D

in bar 2, which I do not doubt,

how easy it was for him to produce here the decoration of the tied-over seventh,
the conduct of the bass voice, the inner voice, and everything else . . .
So, then, you see for yourself, I broke in, that the composer, no doubt by
virtue of clear intuition alone, invented and guided voices with greater ease, and
that is precisely what I meant. What todays composer has lost is the capacity to
know precisely, by ear, the triad within which he sets his own contrapuntal lines
moving. The fact that Bach was accustomed to deducing the world of his voices
from gured bass numbers must surely give his ear a more determinate footing.
For who could deny, except out of ill will, that in our case Bach heard D

as a root
and not as the bass of a rst-inversion chord? On the other hand, it certainly re-
mains {24} an ancillary matter whether or not he also connected the notion of a
harmonic degree to the bass D

. If musicians would only for once understand just

how much better and more easily they could compose, perform, and carry on
theoretical and editorial work if they at least shared the masters composure and
accuracy of aural perception! For so long as this is not the case, they will blunder
their way through these ights of human spirit. Read right here, for example, in
Riemanns Katechismus der Fugen-Komposition: We may forego detailed har-
monic analysis of this piece, it oers no problems.
3
A piece that abounds with
the most profound art of voice-leading and places us bar by bar before the most
dicult puzzles is dispatched simply like that by this obfuscator of the ear!
Or take the following example from the eld of editorial practice:
4
As you see, Blow has no ear for the multifarious processes of elaboration in
cases where voices move below the root of the chordI will illustrate these in
Freier Satzand hence he does not understand that when the bass progresses
from scale degree II to V in minor:
The Art of Listening
119
3
Hugo Riemann, Katechismus der Fugen-Komposition: Analyse von J. S. Bachs Wohltemperiertem
Klavier und Kunst der Fuge (Leipzig: Hesse, 189094).
4
This excerpt, from an Allegrissimo in G minor, bars 913, was taken from an edition of sixty
Scarlatti sonatas published by Breitkopf & Hrtel in its Volks-Ausgabe series, edition no. 434. The
piece is numbered 338 in Alessandro Longos edition, and 450 in Ralph Kirkpatricks catalogue, of
Scarlattis sonatas.
the tone at the midpoint of the path (c

) seldom has to signify V, even though

admittedly that tone usually signies

VIIV in minor keys, as in bar 2 of our
Bach Prelude, for example, where the midpoint of the fth-progression already
signies II. How astonished Blow would be to learn, for example, that at the rst
asterisk in Fig. 5 the g
1
of the inner voice is not the seventh of scale degree V but
rather the third of II! And see how injurious it is when Blow, in his reworking
of this passage, takes the duration of II too briey each time and when, by antic-
ipating b
,
2
(at the second asterisk), he deprives the upper voice of its summation
of the elaborated third-space, a summation that was so clearly worked out and
surely intended by Scarlatti!
Or take the example of another editor:
{25} Klindworth obviously objects to the octave B

b
1
(at the asterisk), if he does
not perhaps even believe that he must eliminate consecutive octaves (see
Ossia), and all this only because he does not grasp the genuine gist of the voice-
leading (shown in Fig. 7b), which knows nothing of an octave. What arrogance
he shows toward Chopin! Similar shenanigans have destroyed all our master-
works for the last two hundred years, one could almost say bar by bar! Reluc-
tantly, I broke o . . .
tonwi lle 3
120
O heilig Herz der Vlker, o Vaterland! O holy heart of peoples, O fatherland!
Allduldend gleich der schweigenden Mutter Erd All-suering silently, like mother earth,
Und allverkannt, wenn schon aus deiner And all-unrecognized, though it is from your
Tiefe die Fremden ihr Bestes haben. Depths that foreigners have their best.
Sie ernten den Gedanken, den Geist von Dir, From you they harvest their thoughts, their spirit,
Sie pcken gern die Traube, doch hhnen sie Gladly they pluck the grapes, and yet they mock
Dich, ungestalte Rebe, da du You, misshapen vine, because you
Schwankend den Boden und wild umirrest. Wander about wildly, making the ground shake.
Du Land des hohen, ernsteren Genius! You land of high, more earnest genius!
Du Land der Liebe! Bin ich der deine schon, You land of love! Though I am already yours,
Oft zrnt ich weinend, da du immer I have often raged and wept that you always
Blde die eigene Seele leugnest. Senselessly deny your own soul.
Hlderlin
1
Man carries Gods miracles within him. But he is oblivious of them; instead, he
dishonors them from his youth through to the grave. The less he can read the
signs of his own miracles, the more he craves help and release from outside. In
vain have religious institutions called out to him: See God around you and
within you. He cries out for miracles so that he may believe, but promptly re-
sorts to denying their very existence.
It is just the same with peoples, and humanity as a whole. The German
people are never conscious of the miraculous greatness that is theirs, of the great
ones that are their heritage. The German people have forsaken their great mira-
cle-workers, just as the human race as a whole has forsaken Germany, unable to
play any part in the miracle of Germany. The same enemy that deles what is
most holy within men has for centuries fulminated in racial hatred against Ger-
many, that most holy member of the human race. Today more than ever. The
noble German gaze, which rests so tranquil and pure upon things (Schillers
words to Goethe), must be obliterated for ever. The noble German spirit, of
which Kjellen
2
says: If the destruction of personality while striving for the ideal
is ultimately to be reckoned higher and more moral than engorged prosperity,
then the German spirit is the purest light of mankind. No other is so free from
egotism and prejudice, so full of understanding and peaceability toward others.
There is no surer way on earth to objectivity.this spirit must be killed, that
is the clear will of the primitive peoples who for years have danced and raged
a genocide, the likes of which has never been seen, like wild animals around a
funeral pyre made up of the lies, falsehoods, and calumny to which they have
bound the Germans.
Although the profundity of the German spiritthe product of great charac-
ter and capacity for hard workshowers blessings upon them, their envy cannot
tolerate its being German. In particular, ever since they have encountered Ger-
manys economic superiority as well, it has transformed their egotism and cov-
etousness into hatred and murder, into open robbery of German land, German
work, and German property. By now, the thinking of the other nations is so sorely
121
Miscellanea
Vermischtes {Tonwille 3, pp. 2638}
t r a ns l at e d b y i a n b e nt
[S]This section was originally intended for Tonwille 2. [Schenker is signaling not only the delay
of its publication but also its separation from the essays that it was originally intended to follow.
In addition, several paragraphs of the Miscellanea were also cut, at the insistence of the publisher.
They have been restored here, enclosed by the symbols . . . . See the general preface to this vol-
ume, p. ix.]
1
Friedrich Hlderlin (17701843), Gesang des Deutschen (1799), stanzas 13 (of fteen), in Alcaic
meter. See OC 24/95 for Schenkers identication.
2
Rudolf Kjellen (1864 1922), right-wing Swedish political theorist, founder of geopolitics, author
of Dreibund und Dreiverband: Die diplomatische Vorgeschichte des Weltkrieges (1921) and Die Gross-
mchte und die Weltkrise (Leipzig: Teubner, 1921).
troubled that Hebbel
3
would concur: It is possible that the German may once
again disappear from the world stage. For he has all the qualities that will gain
him heaven, but not a single one by which he may hold his own on earth; and all
nations hate him, as the evildoers hate the good. However, if they ever do nally
bring about his downfall, they will nd themselves wishing they could scratch his
body out of the grave with their bare hands. And yet Logau was right when, in
his own time, he recognized Germanys plight thus:
4
Das begrabene Deutschland Germany Buried
Wir muten alle Vlker We had to allow people of all nationalities
zu Totengrbern haben, to be our gravediggers,
eh Deutschland in sich selbsten before they could bury the German people
sie konnten recht vergraben. with themselves.
Jetzt sind sie mehr noch mhsam, Now they take even greater care
den Krper zu verwahren, to guard the corpse [of Germany],
da in ihn neue Geister lest new spirits
nicht etwa wieder fahren, somehow reinhabit it,
da das erweckte Deutschland and Germany, once awakened,
nicht wiederum, wie billig, should, in its turn,
auch seine Totengrber be willing to inter
sei zu bestatten willig. its gravediggers, too.
The desire to annihilate Germany is getting truly serious. But even in these
direst straits, when the voice screams out in agonyhow bloodcurdling must the
screaming of the German sacricial victims have resounded in the ears of
mankind!even in this very darkest hour, the betrayal rests not with those who
for the sake of the murderous nations stupidly disavow their own souls. Rather,
it rests with those utterly untalented, eternal courtiers and lackeys of the West,
5
small men and women who lack the character {27} to move in the circles of our
greatest gures, and who as a result will also be incapable of gaining access to
the great gures of other nations. These are the self-same people who became
devotees of Wilson and Northcli during the war,
6
and have since delivered the
stab in the back by taking a freedom that suited other nations well regardless
of outward and inward dierences, and foisted it parrot-like on their fellow-
countrymen. Later, when chastened for their own betrayal by Wilsons betrayal,
they nefariously and of their own free will heaped the burden of guilt for
the world war on Germanys shoulders, wailing penitential songs [Golgatha-
Hymnen]. So doing, they abased their fatherland before nations who were play-
ing out a long-running strategy of robbery and murder, reducing Germany to a
sort of village idiot in the eyes of the worldand all this barely half a century
after Bismarck.
7

Did this upsurge of new ideas

8
originate in your fatherland, my friend?
No, thank God! It was carried across a neighboring ocean, and reached our
coast.
Then let it blow itself out over there, where it rst started. The neighbor to
whom you allude is, of all the nations of Europe, the most dierent from your na-
tion in character and inner nature. No two peoples are more dierent naturally
and artistically, as their two language-types, customs, and dispositions show. It
was the height of folly for the Germans, a century and a half ago, to choose to ape
the Gaul.
Did you say Germans? Why, if ever there was a lazy, good-for-nothing,
empty-headed, low-down . . .
Steady on, now. You, too, have not yet got it fully out of your system; you,
too, are not yet wholly free of the infatuation. These slavish imitators are reaping,
and will go on reaping, what their weakness and passivity, or their insolent be-
tonwi lle 3
122
3
Friedrich Hebbel (181363), German poet and dramatist.
4
Friedrich Logau (1604 55), German epigrammatist, author of Erstes Hundert Teutscher Reim-
sprche (1638) and Deutsche Sinngedichte drei Tausend (1645, ed. Lessing and Ramler, 1759); see OC 24/
101 for Schenkers identication.
5
By the West, Schenker always means the nations of Europe to the west, north, and south of
Germany, particularly France, Italy, and England, and here also the United States. The courtiers and
lackeys to whom he refers are Germans and Austrians who acquiesced to the peace process in 1919
and democratization that followed.
6
Woodrow Wilson (18561922), president of the United States, 191220, previously president of
Princeton University; one of the four principal negotiators of the Versailles and Saint-Germain peace
treaties; idealist, opponent of retribution, proponent of the League of Nations. Viscount Lord North-
cli (18651922), the most powerful newspaper proprietor in Britain, often called the founder of
modern popular journalism.
7
Otto von Bismarck (181598), prime minister of Prussia from 1862, founder and rst chancellor
of the Second German Empire, 187190.
8
That is, the ideas that helped to precipitate the French Revolution of 1789.
trayal, sowed. They have already reaped enough shame over their chronic indeci-
siveness, over their boot-licking toadyism. For more than a century they have
schooled themselves in the language and ways of thought of their masters, who
have always treated them like lackeys, in order to be able to understand and recite
parrot-fashion why they treat them so. Let them be. The German nation has
avenged itself on them.
Herder: Aurora: die Erscheinung am neuen Jahrhundert
9

With what artice did the French contrive that their language be considered
the language of reason? I believe I can oer three grounds for that. During its
developmentwhatever the causestheir language acquired a certain conform-
ity to rules that our language does not possess. Since its word order is pre-
scribed, one is less likely to get embarrassingly tangled up in saying what one
wants to say. Second, it has acquired a degree of renement that few other living
languages can boast. At a time when Germany was still writing in Barbarian
10
or
Latin, French had long been nely honed, because the French always preferred
to write for a public, a well-mannered public, while the Germans were writing
for private study and scholarly discourse. Just as the ancient Gauls had a female
governing body as their highest authority, so also the fair sex soon occupied the
center of their learned circles. Books came to be seen more and more as written
conversations, as elegantly styled discussions, and so took on the dialogistic air
of the sophist. Rather than, third, enumerating all the public institutions that
have adopted it, let me come right out and say: the French language would be
nothing if it had not garnered all these commendations. Wretched for musical
settings, watery, nerveless, and inharmonious for poetic purposes, too precise
for the higher realms of philosophy, it has earned its place solely through a
mediocrity that has never attained a high level in either philosophy or poetry.
Prmontval
11
is not uncharitable in his assessment: If I were searching for an
epithet to explain its great success, I would proceed by comparing characteris-
tics. Not as limpid as Italian, not as majestic as Spanish, less compact than Eng-
lish, far below German in vigor, almost less than any European language in rich-
ness and superabundance; yet in spite of its poverty, it has sucient resources,
vigor, brevity, majesty, and sweetness to be a very valuable instrument for
human thoughts. In particular, the clarity and politeness that characterize it
constitute its great merit. So, just as a handsome, courteous man, clear and ra-
tional in conversation, is more readily accepted in company than a deep-think-
ing, silent man, so too, among Germans, the French language has earned the lau-
rels as the language of the intellect, where ours could have claimed to have been
a language of reason.
Herder: Fragmente zur deutschen Literatur

We despair, and convince ourselves on the basis of this striking example that
it is just not worth the trouble of giving satisfaction to the French in this respect,
obsessed as they are with the external appearances in everything.
12
Accordingly,
we jump to the opposite conclusion: {28} that we shall reject the French language
entirely, and instead devote ourselves with all our passion and sincerity to our
mother tongue.
We found opportunities for this, and willing interlocutors, in our daily lives.
Alsace had not been part of France
13
for so long that old and young had yet lost
Miscellanea
123
9
Johann Gottfried Herder (1744 1803): Aurora (i.e., the morning light that drives away the ter-
rors of the night) is the tenth essay in the collection Nachlese fr Adrastea: Vermischte Aufstze und
Fragmente: J. G. Herders smmtliche Werke (Karlsruhe: im Breau der deutschen Classiker, 182029),
vol. 28 (1821), pp. 441564; the quotation is taken from p. 554. Aurora is a dialogue about the old cen-
tury and the new, and in particular about the French Revolution and the concepts of freedom and
equality. The italics in this passage reproduce Herders emphases, which are not transmitted in
Schenkers text.
10
Barbarish. . . schrieb: Herder probably means writing in German before the standardization of
the language in the Lutheran Bible. A barbarism is a grammatical error.
11
Prmontval (pseudonym) Andr-Pierre Le Gay (171664), author of Discours sur les math-
matiques (Paris, 1743), Lesprit de Fontenelle (Paris, 1743), Mmoires (The Hague, 1749), and Le Diogne
de dAlembert (Paris, 1754).
12
Goethe has been praising the spoken and written French of Johann Daniel Schpin (1694
1771), professor of history at Strasbourg, with whom he has studied, and decrying the tendency of the
French to quibble with his command of their language, complaining that he expounds and philoso-
phizes rather than conversing.
In his Aus meinem Leben: Dichtung und Wahrheit (181132), Goethe covered his life from birth
to arrival in Weimar in 1775. Part III (1814), book 11, includes his period of legal studies in Strasbourg,
176871. The passage from which Schenker excerpts details his initial desire for an academic posi-
tion in France, then the disparaging discussions among Goethe and his German friends of French
law and politics, literature, society, science, and atheism, and his mildly disillusioned return to Ger-
many. It was in Strasbourg that he came under the inuence of Herder and of the latters advocacy
of Shakespeare.
13
Alsace was placed under French protectorate in 1648. Strasbourg was seized by the French in 1681.
their lingering attachment to the old outlooks, customs, language, and traditional
dress . . . .
Similarly, at our table nothing even remotely resembling German was spoken.
. . . What alienated us from the French more powerfully than anything was the
oft-repeated assertion that Germans in generallike the king, who strove after
French culture
14
were lacking in good taste. Whenever we encountered this al-
legation, which attached itself to every opinion like a refrain, we did nothing and
tried to bottle up our feelings. But we became even more befuddled when people
assured us that Mnage
15
had once said that French writers possessed everything
but good taste. . . .
16
So there we were, at the French border, suddenly free and divested of all
things French. We found their way of life too precise and genteel. To us, their po-
etry was cold, their criticism destructive; their philosophy was abstruse and, even
so, inadequate. Now we stood on the verge of surrendering ourselves to raw na-
ture, at least experimentallyif, that is, another inuence had not long since
been preparing us for higher and freer views of the world and intellectual delights
as true as they were poetic; if it had not been controlling us at rst secretively and
gently, but later more overtly and forcefully.
I hardly need say that it is Shakespeare that I have in mind with this re-
mark. . . . We have generously accorded him all the justice, equity, and protective
concern that we deny to one another.
Goethe: Aus meinem Leben, Part III

From Mozarts letters, 17778.

(Munich, September 29, 1777) So thats that! Most of the great aristocrats are
besotted in this way with Italy . . .
17
(Munich, October 2, 1777) I am prepared to submit to a competition. Let
him [the Elector of Bavaria] invite all the composers of Munich, and he can rope
in a few from Italy and France, Germany, England, and Spain, as well. I am sure
I can hold my own with any of them at composition . . .
. . . And think how popular I would become if I could give the German Na-
tional Theater a musical leg up!And if I were involved, that would certainly
happen, for I have been dying to compose ever since I heard German Singspiel.
(Munich, October 11, 1777) I have an indescribable longing to write another
opera . . .
18
. . . and I am happier if I have something to compose, for that is, after all, my
only joy and passion . . .
For I need only hear talk of an opera, I need only to be in a theater, hearing
voices, and I am immediately beside myself with joy . . .
(Augsburg, October 17, 1777) . . . Then we went to supper (at the house of the
city councilor Herr Langenmantel).
19
He [i.e., his son] had already questioned
me regarding the cross
20
that morning, and I had told him all about what it was
and how I had come by it. He and his brother-in-law kept saying: We should like
to get the cross ourselves, too, so that we can belong to the same company as Herr
Mozart. But I took no notice. And they kept on addressing me as Chevalier, Lord
of the Spur! I kept my mouth shut.
But over supper things turned nasty. How much would one cost? Three
ducats? Do you have to get permission to wear it? Does it cost anything to get per-
mission? We really must send for the cross for ourselves. There was a certain
ocer by the name of B. Bach,
21
who said: Disgraceful! You should be ashamed
of yourselves. What would you do with the cross? The young ass von Kurzen-
Mantel ashed him a glanceI spotted it, and he knew I did. After that, things
quieted down a bit. Then he oered me some snu, and said: There, take a pinch
on it. I held my tongue.
Eventually he started ridiculing me again unmercifully. Now then, tomorrow
tonwi lle 3
124
14
Frederick II, king of Prussia 174086, who is said to have remarked Je parle lallemand comme
un cocher.
15
Gilles Mnage (161392), French literary scholar noted for his sarcasm, and later satirized by
Boileau and Molire.
16
Large excision at this point.
17
Mozart has just been told that the elector is unwilling to oer him patronage until he has been
to Italy and made his name there.
18
At the promise of Josef Myslivecek (173781) to recommend him to write one for the Naples
Carnival (which came to nothing).
19
The parenthesis is Schenkers. Jakob Wilhelm Benedikt Langenmantel von Wertheim und
Ottmarshausen (171990) had been a friend of Mozarts father since childhood, and was one of the
rst people on whom Wolfgang called, at Leopolds behest, when he arrived in Augsburg. He was a
Catholic city counsellor, an imperial provincial governor, and imperial adviser. It is his son, Jakob
Alois Karl Langenmantel, the Intendant of the Augsburg patrician music circle, who gures in the
event described here, together with his (younger) brother-in-law. Langenmantel long cloak,
hence Mozarts pun on Kurzen-Mantel short cloak.
20
[S]Mozarts father wanted Wolfgang to wear the cross of the Order of the Golden Spur, which
he had received from the pope [Clement IV] at the age of fourteen, when he was in Augsburg, the city
of the Mozart family.
21
Karl Ernst Freiherr von Bagge (1718 or 172291), an amateur musician permanently resident in
Paris from 1750, and the subject of derision in the Mozart family correspondence.
I shall send my servant to you. Be so kind as to lend me the cross for a while. I
shall return it to you promptly, just as soon as I have talked with my goldsmith
about it. He is an odd fellow, and I am sure that when I ask him how valuable it
is, he will say About one Bavarian Thaler, not more: it denitely is not gold, only
copper. Ha-ha! I said: Not at all! It is made of sheet-metal. Ha-ha! I was boiling
with rage and anger. But tell me, he asked, can I do without the spur?O yes,
I replied, you do not need one: you already have one in your head. Actually, I
have one in my head, too, but it is of a dierent sort: I would certainly not want
to swap mine with yours. Here, have a pinch of snu on it. I oered him some
snu and he went rather pale.
{29} The other day, he started up again, the other day, your medal looked a
real treat on that fancy waistcoat of yours. I kept silent. Finally he called out (to
his servant): Hey, make sure you treat us with more respect when the two of us,
my brother-in-law and I, wear Herr Mozarts cross. Here, have a pinch of snu on
it. It is a funny thing, I began, as if I had not heard what he had said, but I can
get all the medals that you could ever win sooner than you could become what I
am, even if you died and were born again twice over. Here, have a pinch of snu
on it. With which, I stood up. Everybody else stood up also, and was covered in
embarrassment. I took my hat and sword and said: I shall have the pleasure of
seeing you again tomorrow.I shall not be here, tomorrow. Then Ill come the
day after, if I am still around. Oh, but you will surely still be . . . I shall be
nothing of the sort. You are a bunch of scoundrels. Goodbye for the time
being.and I stalked out.
Could anyone outwit a democrat more eectively than the aristocrat-
genius Mozart did here? And if that democrat were to die twice and be born
againdemocrat-birth would always be a still-born birth, democrat-life a still-
born life. And if occasionally, like Langenmantel the younger here, he runs head-
on into a genius, he is consigned to being an eternal shadow of something that
never was or is. Here, have a pinch of snu on it, you democrats!
22
The father chides his son over this rebu, and Wolfgang counters:
23
Papa
tells me in his earlier letter that I fraternized too much with the son of Langen-
mantel. Nothing is farther from the truth! I behaved just naturally toward him,
and nothing more.
(Mannheim, October 31, 1777) . . . they just think that because I am small and
young nothing great or grown-up can come out of me. They will soon learn.
(Paris, July 3, 1778) Now I have some news that you may perhaps already have
heard. That godless arch-scoundrel Voltairehe has snued it, like a dog, like a
brute beast. He has got his due!

The German democrats, with their French narrowness of outlook, are forever
unable to see through the words and deeds of French mendacity, and therefore
swear on no higher authority than the patriarchs of their dishonor, Voltaire, the
Encyclopedists, and the heroes of the French Revolution. These democrats
hold that Mozart, in the manner of the priests, had profaned Voltaires great-
ness. And the vassal Schurig (see earlier),
24
who nds Voltaire more congenial,
calls Mozart a barbarian. What nonesense! As a German, Mozart was behav-
ing just naturally in his remark (see above); and as a German genius, he pos-
sessed, without needing to know chapter and verse of Voltaires writings as do
German devotees of Voltaire, a deeper insight than they into the repulsive ways
of this all-too-deeply awed Frenchman. One need only recall, moreover, how a
Goethewith characteristic sense of responsibility in what he said and what he
wrote (Dichtung und Wahrheit)judged Voltaire, who through his supercial-
ity and unsoundness in matters of religion, art, and politics caused so much
mischief in the world, and lived so disreputable a life. One will then see the
rightness of Mozarts hastily penned remark, and will appreciate how funda-
mentally dierent from the German is the Frenchman, to whom a Voltaire could
become the pride of his Panthon:
25
You might think, from what I have recounted so far, that only fortuitous ex-
Miscellanea
125
22
Passage deleted from page proofs for the Miscellanea: OC 39/20.
23
Leopold: Oct 18, 1777, continuation Oct 20 You were insuciently reserved, you were too fa-
miliar; Wolfgang: Oct 25.
24
[S]See Tonwille 2, pp. 18, 22/i, pp. 65, 69. [Artur Schurig, author of Wolfgang Amad Mozart: sein
Leben, seine Persnlichkeit, sein Werk (Leipzig: Insel, 1913, 2nd ed. 1923), in which he drew on Nissens
collection of biographical sources to conduct new research into the inuences on Mozart, including
French inuences, thereby antagonizing Schenker. (This is in itself probably further evidence of how
up-to-date Schenker kept in his reading.) Schenker likens him to the German negotiators (lackeys)
who in 1919 subjugated Germany to the Allied forces and democracy. Schurigs book, along with a
negative review of its second edition, is critiqued in the last section of the next Miscellanea (Ton-
wille 4, pp. 312/i, pp. 171 72).
25
See note 12. These extracts occur between extracts 4 and 5 of those previously quoted.
ternal motivations and personal idiosyncrasies are involved. In fact, however,
French literature did itself possess certain qualities that must have deterred the as-
piring young man rather than attracting him. It was archaic and rened, neither
of which can have appealed to young men in search of freedom and the plea-
sures of life . . .
. . . And even this Voltaire, the wonder-boy of his day, was himself by now
archaic, like the literature that he had enlivened and dominated for nearly a
century . . .
. . . and so he himself, patriarch and elder statesman, had to emulate even the
youngest of his rivals by waiting his opportunities, constantly ingratiating him-
self with others, granting too many favors to his friends, mistreating his enemies
too often, and, under the guise of a passionate striving after truth, treating people
untruthfully and deceitfully. When all is said and done, was it worthwhile having
lived so active and great a life only to end up more dependent than when one
started out? . . .
. . . For us young men, for whom a German love of nature and truth served as
the best guide in living and learning, and honesty to oneself and others was our
watchword, the partisan dishonesty of Voltaire, and his demolishing of so many
worthy causes, irked us increasingly so that we grew daily more antipathetic to-
ward him. He could never do enough to belittle religion and the holy writ on
which it was founded in his desire to damage the high priests, as he called them,
and many a time this left me feeling uncomfortable. But only when I learned that
in order to discredit the oral tradition of a Great Flood he denied the evidence of
fossilized shells, considering all such phenomena mere freaks of nature, did I
completely lose my faith in him; . . .
From his youth upward, he directed his full attention and energy to an active
social life, politics, personal gain of all kinds, relationships to the lords of the
earth, and exploitation of those relationships with the aim of joining the ranks of
those lords. It cannot have been easy for anyone to make themselves so beholden
to others in order to be beholden to no one . . .
{30} . . . Whenever we heard speak of the Encyclopedists, or opened a volume
of their enormous work, its eect on our spirits was as of walking through the in-
numerable gyrating bobbins and looms of a huge textile mill. The sheer clatter-
ing and whirring, all that machinery befuddling ones senses, the overwhelming
sight of so many individual parts interacting so closely, the contemplation of the
myriad things that go into making a piece of clothit was enough to spoil the
feel of the garment on ones back.

During his visit to the court of Frederick William II in Berlin, Mozart forces the
kings cello teacher, Duport the Elder,
26
who was, in Otto Jahns words, as arro-
gant a character as he was intriguing, to speak German, despite the hegemony of
French at the court. He remarked of him: Even that Italianate brute, who has
lived on German soil all these many years and consumed German food, was
forced to converse inor rather to mangleGerman, whether or not his French
muzzle was up to the job.
27
As a genius, Mozart recognizes that political power extends to the realm of
language, and accordingly rejects the French language on German soil. But why
do no Germans who belong to Mozarts beloved fatherland follow suit, rather
than encouraging, as they do, the unjustied disparagement and denigration of
his music and person? Do they expect to administer tests in the understanding of
genius just in case they come across some foreign genius, rather than letting jus-
tice reign with the authentic article? Now back to Mozarts character, then
Mozarts music, too, will be revealed to Germans!

But let us go back, Councilor, for I completely lose my diplomatic character and
perspective if I do not frequently revisit the past, the aictions that underlie our
time, among which in particular are the three types of lie. In the very fabric of the
French language exists a reection of the truthfulness of the journal de lEmpire.
28
For example, a French billion is so much smaller than ours that a French quintil-
lion is only a German trillion. Likewise, a mere rien on its own, without a second
negation, means something to them; but what about le moyen den rien croire?
29
When faced with numbers of troops or amounts of earnings, this linguistic genius
was seldom fazed. Thus by vrits de Moniteur or de Paris there is nothing any truer
to understand than by cul de Paris or gorge de Paris,
30
though the latter two do at
tonwi lle 3
126
26
Jean-Pierre Duport (17411818), rst cellist of the royal chapel from 1773.
27
W. A. Mozart (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hrtel, 185659, rev. 1867, 5th edn., rev. H. Abert, 191921),
vol. 2, p. 630.
28
This was the name given to the Journal dbats et dcrets, a record of the proceedings of the Na-
tional Assembly, during most of 1814 15.
29
Literally, the means of believing nothing.
30
Truths of Le Moniteur, [truths] of Paris, Paris arse, Paris cleavage: Le Moniteur uni-
verselle, founded 1789 to publish the debates of the French National Assembly, to record public acts
and diplomas, and to discuss aairs and literature, became the ocial organ of the French govern-
ment in 1814; it changed its name to Journal ociel in 1871.
least refer to something tangible. Just as architecture uses blind doorways for dec-
oration,
31
so French architecture of war and peace, in the form of the writer, shows
itselfperhaps not at an inopportune momentthrough blind or painted door-
ways and triumphal arches that look in two directions at once. And it is in essence
an imitationalbeit an ennobled oneof the Roman practice that required the
Emperor literally to put on make-up at his triumphal ascent, when the French
newspapers hastily apply make-up
32
or rouge to the defeated commander-in-
chief, and turn loss into victory by eulogy and lies. But every diplomatic councilor
will always call this nothing other than the purely ctional lie . . .
Quite dierent from this . . . is the cynical and derisive lie. This is what ex-
plains clearly to nations, when they have lost their old freedom, what they have
gained in the process, and moreover in the midst of their wars how much they
enjoy peace, even at rst taking pleasure in war as an advance encounter. It ex-
plains also how greatly trade and commerce can actually prot from the very fact
of European bankruptcy, just as commercial independence can be achieved from
political dependency. It shows how one can really speak of good fortune through-
out the whole of present-day Europe, but most especially in the former German
Empire. To me, this is a loose, but elegant emulation of the people of Kamchatka,
whose custom it is, after devouring the whole of a seal except for the head, to
place a garland and crown on this nal relic, lay food around it, and instead of
saying grace make the following speech to it: See how we mistreat you; we cap-
tured you only so that we might regale you right royally. Tell your relatives this,
so that they too may come and be regaled.
It is small wonder that in recent times such garlanded and harangued heads
have been a common sight. But it is worth remarking how, in these wild people,
the rst embodimentalbeit only a faint oneof a good French minister of the
interior was actually to be found.
. . . Enough. We have now arrived at the third type of lie: the lie by promise,
or the lie of treachery. This is the most serious of them all. . . .
Jean Paul: Mars und Phoebus Thronwechsel im Jahre 1814
33
Would these French lies actually exist in the rst place without the servility
which has operated, and continues to operate, in Germany against the opinion
and advice of her great menbehind their backs, as it were? And do not the
French tricksters [die Franzsler] commit the most grievous betrayal of human
culture by constantly driving the French people [die Franzosen] to ruination and
depravity through their slavish, foolish posing, when they should instead be help-
ing them out of their predicament?
34
{29}

Afew years ago, in a t of grand self-delusion, the Neue Zrcher Zeitung alleged
that the character and customs of German Switzerland were essentially French.
There is a grain of truth in this: we do have an inveterate tribe of adulators who
gawk at all things French and do not see sense until they have had a ladle-full of
misery forced down their throats. Anybody to whom France really has anything
to oer should accept it with gratitude. She has nothing to oer us, only things
to take from us. Our federal constitution, the rst practicable creative idea since
the downfall of the ancient confederacy,
35
is evidence of the German blood in our
veins, evidence as good as the ancient letters of the golden era.
36
Gottfried Keller, in Der Bund (Bern), 1860
. . . A Swiss republic reformed thus from top to bottom would, however, be re-
stored and revitalized if it were to enter into free union with similarly governed
states to form a large-scale mutual alliance; and that this might one day be pos-
sible with Germany was precisely the assumption of the above-mentioned toast.
If in contemplating such an aliation
37
such an accommodation in times of
future world calamitiesI showed a preference for Germany, then this was be-
Miscellanea
127
31
Blinde Thore can also mean blind fools.
32
Schminke: cf. Schenkers remarks on the Western political leaders in The Masterwork in Music,
vol. 3, p. 72.
33
Mars und Phbus: Thronwechsel im Jahre 1814. Eine scherzhafte Flugschrift. This satirical pam-
phlet is subtitled Brief report of how, on the night of New Years Eve 1813, the reigning planet Mars
hands over sovereignty to his successor, Sol, the sun god, for the year 1814. The work appears among
the Political Writings in the collected edition Jean Pauls Smtliche Werke: Historisch-kritische Ausgabe,
part I, vol.14 (Weimar: Bhlaus, 1839), pp. 15582. Schenkers excerpts are taken from pp. 17275.
34
Passage deleted from page proofs for the Miscellanea: OC 39/22.
35
The old three-canton Swiss confederacy goes back to 1291, and by 1513 embraced thirteen can-
tons. The establishment of the Helvetian Republic in 1798 ended it; the republic was itself replaced by
the new federal constitution in 1815, comprising twenty-two cantons with separate constitutions but
one federal army. A new federal state was formed in 1848, with a federal government, postal system,
currency, and, later, railway system.
36
The golden era probably refers to the original confederacy, formed in 1291 among the forest
cantons, Schwyz, Uri, and Nidwalden, the Everlasting League; the ancient letters to the letter of
agreement of 1291 and that among the three cantons arming their defensive alliance in 1315. See
Gottfried Keller: Smtliche Werke und ausgewhlte Briefe (Munich: Hanser, 1958), vol. 3, p. 970: the two
league letters of 1291 and 1315.
37
Anschluss: the word widely used for the annexation of Austria by Germany shortly before the
start of World War II.
cause I prefer to turn to where capability, strength, and light, rather than their op-
posites, prevail.
Gottfried Keller, in the Basler Nachrichten, 1872
By now, the German democrats have got rather more than a ladle-full of
misery forced down their throats. From their spy-holes, so to speak, they have
come to know every single foreign knave by sight. His foreign name was already
music to their ears, every word that he published in a newspaper, novel, or stage
play holy writ. But this did not stop the foreign whip from cracking over the
democrats in Germany, who must grudgingly concede that there has always been
and always will be solidarity among the peopleAh! what castles in Spain they
dreamt of there! And if it works against the German people, then it will be a sol-
idarity with the exception of the Germans. What is more, the German democrat
ought to pay to whoever engineered the long-desired freedom from the Hohen-
zollerns
38
a liberation tax at a level way beyond his means.
39
Then at last he would
put up economic resistance against his liberator, for the rst time everbut that
would still fall far short of intellectual resistance.
The German worker is already becoming uneasy even about his beloved
Marx, for the foreign whip is on the point of driving this prophet out of him.
40
A
special tax ought to be levied for this liberation, too: slavery for the liberators!
Soon the castles in Spain will have vanished, as a new breed of strong-arm bu-
reaucrat works only eight hours a day himself (and not very good quality work,
at that) and so forces middle-class men and women to work that much longer. In
the throes of the War, the German worker had nothing better to think about than
the three-class electoral system
41
(friends among Germanys enemies shared
those concerns with him!). But what good is that to him today, now that he is not
even free to choose which whip? Anybody who wishes to punish him is free to do
so: American, English, French, Italian, Czech, Pole, Rumanian, Hungarian, Yugo-
slav, or whoever. Did not the German workforce in German Austria recently
prove itself utterly worthless by failing to kill a villainous English soldier who had
assaulted a German ocial in English fashion because the wanton destruction
was not going ahead fast enough for his liking? Will the German democrats in
their spy-holes never understand that Germans are too upright and industrious
to get caught up in the democratic activities of indolent peoples without feeling
sick with shame? I fear they never will! Their small brain-mass makes it dicult
for them to behave as Germans alongside Germanys great ones, to be Lessing-
Herder-Goethe-Schiller-JeanPaul-Bach-Haydn-Mozart-Beethoven-Kant-Moltke-
Hindenburg-German, and far easier just to be French-English-Italian-Czech-
Polish-German.

This France was no greater than Germany, but had always had the power to go
after anything she wanted in Germany and get it, the power to play cat-and-
mouse, to inict harm, to disrupt, to rob whichever neighbor she chose, and to
make surprise attacks whenever and wherever she felt like it. From Heidelberg to
Peking, from the arsonist Mlac to the thieving accomplice Palikao, she always
had her sights set on some foreign possession. The great nation-King Louis xiv
stole Belgiums most valuable border regions, and then the great nation-Emperor
Napoleon was able to appropriate the country wholesale, emasculated and dis-
membered as it was. Louis xiv took the Vosges as his border, Napoleon i took the
Rhine as his border, Napoleon iii nursed the idea of snatching land indenitely,
until he got his ngers burned, though he got away with seizing Savoy and Nice.
42
The French are compulsively voracious, the ironic thing being that while {32}
they grab territory always by expansion, they seek to compensate Germany by
contraction, and for her own good. By conjuring away the names Prussia and
Germany, they compensate Prussia in such a way that Germany increases by not
a single village, while the whole German-Austrian region shrinksand in France
they call that compensation!
tonwi lle 3
128
38
That is, the royal family of Brandenburg-Prussia, which also provided the emperors of impe-
rial Germany; in particular Kaiser Wilhelm ii. The ousters in Schenkers mind must have been the
sailors and workers who staged the November 1918 revolution, the independent socialist and
Spartacist politicians who (with nancial support from Russia) incited revolution, and the majority-
socialist government of Friedrich Ebert, although Hindenburg and Wilhelm Groener made the phone
call that produced the abdication.
39
The allusion is to the reparations payments imposed on Germany by the Versailles Treaty,
which were (at Frances and Englands urging) beyond Germanys capacity to pay, and were intended
to cripple Germany economically.
40
Austreiben: the word used for Jesus driving out of evil spirits; for example, Matthew 8.16 er
trieb die Geister aus durch sein Wort und machte alle Kranken gesund.
41
The system of election to the Prussian Landtag (lower parliamentary house), which was split
into thirds according to taxes paid so that the workers and peasantryby far the majority of the elec-
toratereceived only a third of the seats.
42
The city of Nice and the Duchy of Savoy to the north were part of Sardinia-Piedmont until
1860, when Napoleon iii concluded a treaty in which they were transferred to France.
France cannot live so long as she has only France and not also the lands of her
neighbors! Without these, it would be impossible for her to fulll her European
mission! . . .
European mission! Now there is another word that belongs to the world of
sanitized political rhetoric! If it is Frances mission to steal, rob, plunder, and
murder with bands of Africans armed to the teeth and trigger-happy, then the
devil take its mission . . .
France is never happier than when Europe is thrown into turmoil. Germany
can claim that, despite having the greatest might, she has been peace-loving
through her entire history. Frances history, on the other hand, shows her to have
possessed moderate power and yet constantly to have disturbed the peace. A con-
tented Germany means peace in Europe!
But because they never retaliated, Austria and Germany while apparently
promoting peaceful coexistence in reality constituted a perennial tinder-box of
war. Over the centuries, every upstart as he exed his muscles tugged at the beard
of the seventy-million Reich, even the puny Dane had to have a go recently. First
the Rhine borderland, then Schleswig-Holsteini.e. an undeniably German pos-
sessionjoined the neighboring states on the hit-list for robbery, known as
questions, an aront like no other on the ve continents, and that is what they
call political equilibrium. The fox, I believe, calls it his endangered interests
when the geese take to the wing but political equilibrium when they are perched
motionless in a pen to which he has ready access.
Krnberger
43
Imagine what Krnberger would have said if he had lived to see the World War
, which France instigated in order to seize for itself a second time German
Alsace-Lorraine, which Louis xiv had once before stolen in peace time; if he had
lived to see how that nation steals German Malmedy-Eupen, Danzig, Memel, the
Saar region, the Tyrol, and Upper Silesia, building submarines and extolling
their virtues where only yesterday it was decrying those of Germany as contrary
to international law; if he had lived to see a history professor at the Sorbonne
declare in a Viennese newspaper merely eeting contradictions to which his
nation was prone, in the city so infamously lied to, plundered, and sucked dry
by the French, and through which the French eat their way so cheaply.
44
Ad-
mittedly, this Professor of Mendacity had the French good grace to assure Vi-
enna of his sympathy, and that was enough for any Viennese lackey of the
French .
45

From Paris, Monsieur Grimm writes to Mozarts father (1778):

46
He is zu
treuherzig,
47
does not exert himself, is too easily duped and not suciently alert
to protable openings. To get on here, you have to be wily, enterprising, daring.
For his own good, I would wish him half the talent and twice the cunning, and
then I would have no worries about him. Other than that, there are only two
courses of action for him to improve his lot here. The rst is to give keyboard les-
sons. However, quite apart from requiring a lot of active solicitation, not to say
charlatanry, to get hold of pupils, I am not sure that his health is up to this line
of employment. . . . What is more, this occupation does not please him, because
it will prevent him from writing, which is what he likes above all. So he could give
himself entirely up to that, but in this country the majority of the public is not
well-versed in music. As a result, it is all a question of names, and the merits of a
Miscellanea
129
43
Ferdinand Krnberger (182379), Austrian novelist, dramatist, and journalist for democratic
newspapers and periodicals, but with strong German nationalist and Austrian patriotic feelings. This
passage appeared in his principal collection of political writings, Siegelringe: eine ausgewhlte Samm-
lung politischer und kirchlicher Feuilletons (1874). Schenker quoted from an article, Krnberger der
Deutsche, by H. Amrhein, in the Unterhaltungsbeilage der tglichen Rundschau for July 2, 1921, p. 510,
a clipping of which survives in OC 24/40. Krnbergers collected works in ve volumes (191014) were
edited by Otto Erich Deutsch.
44
[S]At the urging of his friends, J. S. Bach, in the autumn of 1717 while at the Court of Dres-
den, challenged the then world-famous French harpsichordist and organist Jean Louis Marchand
[16691732] to a contest of improvisation and performance (Spitta, [Johann Sebastian Bach], vol. 1,
pp. 574). The French artist took up the gauntlet. A panel of musical judges was selected. . . . Bach
and the referees assembled on time. But of Marchand there was no sign. They waited awhile, then the
Count sent to his quarters to remind him of his appointment, but word came back only that the man
he sought had made himself scarce, taking the express mail coach out of Dresden that morning. This
item of historical information sprang instantly to mind when I read recently that Professor Aulard
this being the name of the history professor mentioned aboveanswered the challenge issued to him
by the Berlin historian Delbrck to come to Cologne for a public debate on war guilt by staying away.
The same old French cowardice, in 1922 just as in 1717; the rest isgloire. [The incident is
reported only by German writers, among others, Marpurg, J. A. Birnbaum, and Jacob Adlung.]
45
Passage (including Schenkers footnote) deleted from page proofs for the Miscellanea: OC
39/23.
46
July 27, 1778; Schenker reproduces this letter in its highly corrupt French orthography, in
Roman type, even with tirets instead of quotation marks. Friedrich Melchior, Baron von Grimm
(17231807) lived in Paris from 1749, contributed to the operatic controversies from 1752 onward, and
wrote the satirical Le petit prophte de Boehmischbroda (1753). He was a supportive friend to Wolfgang
throughout his 176364 visit to Paris.
47
Too trustingGrimm leaves the phrase in German.
work can be appreciated by only a small handful of people. At the present time,
the public is quite ridiculously split between Piccinni and Gluck,
48
and the rea-
sons one hears bandied about are utterly pathetic! It is thus very dicult for your
son to make headway between these two factions. So you can see, dear master,
that in a country where so many mediocre and even detestable musicians have
amassed enormous wealth, I very much fear that your son will not get himself out
of this plight on his own.
Monsieur Grimm, whom even Goethe, in his Dichtung und Wahrheit, con-
siders to be a foreigner exceptionally well received into the bosom of the only
linguistically blessed church, does not so much as attempt to translate zu treu-
herzig into French. He made himself out to be a friend of Leopold Mozart, and
gave Wolfgang a helping hand in Paris, but the son saw through him more quickly
than the father, writing from Paris (September 11, 1778): I am only sorry that I
shall not be here long enough to show him that I have no need of him, and that
I can do as well as his Piccinnieven if I am only a German.

Paris, the most unmusical place in the world after London, deserves to have an
exception made for it in this case . . .
Lenz: Beethoven, I, p. 23
49
Readers of my Erluterungsausgaben of the last ve Beethoven sonatas will know
that I do not count Lenz as a musician.
50
However, his hermeneutic sagacity will
stretch to judging Paris as a musical city.

Then again, all this empty architectonic ostentation is at base democratic, as is

the empire itself. It is monotonous galit. I see that A. von Humboldt
51
some-
where calls Paris humdrum and tedious. And this dreadful city of ostentation
shows itself totally lacking in imagination. Its architectonic ideas and motives can
be reduced to a few perpetually repeating gures. {33} Any medium-sized Italian
town has greater wealth of imagination than mighty Paris. Even if the Italians had
produced nothing more than Venice, one would still have to say they were of all
the people of the world the richest in art and design. The cities of Italy are the sole
surviving monuments of a one-hundred-year-long process in which the artistic
spirit of a people has manifested itself in a kaleidoscope of individual personal
forms. This display of singular genius is lacking in Paristhe interminable streets
and boulevards with their showy palaces all look alikeeven Communists would
have been able to use community funds to build their phalanstres
52
in this way.
Gregorovius
(from unpublished pages of his diary,
communicated by Professor Dr. H. H. Houben
53
)

How surprised I was when I encountered Beethoven this morning! In his ec-
centric, scuttling gait, he lurched toward me, making great show of his joy at see-
ing me again. We spoke about all sorts of things. He asked me whether I was still
pursuing music! No longer, I said: I am following your advice. You said I had no
talent, and I have come to the conclusion that you were right. It is pitiful to see
someone struggling with something when they have no talent for it. That is why
man is a social animal: so that he can draw on the whole of society to realize his
full capacity. However, each individual should contribute his own toneand it
must be pure and perfectto the general harmony, while not claiming to be that
harmony entirely himself.
Beethoven: Not bad, but not true, either. I would not want to go around with
someone who gave out only one tone. He would be a tedious companion, how-
tonwi lle 3
130
48
The critical controversy between the operas of Niccol Piccinni (17281800) and Christoph
Willibald Gluck (1714 87) ran from early 1777 into the early 1780s. In this rivalry, Grimm favored the
Italian, although at other times he had supported Gluck.
49
Wilhelm von Lenz, Beethoven: eine Kunststudie, vol. 1 (Kassel: Balde, 1855).
50
A critique of Lenzs remarks on the late sonatas appears in each of the original Erluterungs-
ausgabenOp. 109 (pp. 5054), Op. 110 (pp. 779), Op. 111 (pp. 8791), and Op. 101 (pp. 725)but
not in Jonass revisions of 197172, from which the discussion of the secondary literature was excised.
Schenker was also disparaging of Lenzs interpretation of the Fifth Symphony; see Tonwille 5, p. 17/i,
p. 188; Tonwille 6, p. 32.
51
Alexander Freiherr von Humboldt (17691859), German scientist and explorer, famous for his
expeditions in Central and South America, who lived in Paris 1804 27, where in addition to writing
up his scientic work he led a full social life.
52
Eighteenth-century neologism modeled on monas tre (monastery) comprising phalanx
(i.e., social community) tre; hence community dwellings in the ideal social system of Fourier
(17721837); vast structures, each situated in a square league of cultivated land.
53
Ferdinand (Adolf) Gregorovius, pseudonym of Ferdinand Fachsmund (182191), German his-
torian and popular writer of liberal persuasion, author of Idee eines Polenthums (1848) and Geschichte
der Stadt Rom im Mittelalter (185972). Schenker read this material in an article, Ferdinand Gre-
gorovius in Paris: ungedrckte Tagebuchbltter aus dem Jahre 1878, in an unidentied periodical of
January 22, 1921: clipping, OC 24/28. The correspondent, Heinrich Hubert Houben (18751935), was
a German literary historian and freelance Berlin critic.
ever pure his tone. Each man represents within himself the total life of a society,
just as society gives an impression of being something a mite larger than an indi-
vidual. Now then, what news of our bulbous-nosed Marchese and his angelically
beautiful daughter? I recounted briey and as concisely as possible what hap-
pened. He received it with apparent indierence, and switched to his favorite
topic, politics, which thoroughly bores me. We parted . . .
From the Diaries of Carl Friedrich Freiherr Kbeck von Kbau,
communicated by Theodor von Frimmel in his Beethoven-Forschung, II
54
While the nations of the enemy alliance (or in German: Entente) humiliate Ger-
mans constantly these days in a thousand dierent ways as unwanted people,
German musicians, to use Beethovens phrase, already display barbaric indier-
ence to them. Instead of letting this, the worst act of villainy in world history,
nally show up these jackasses, pilferers, and cringing cowards of nations who
produced the Versailles diktat for what they are, they grovel on their bellies yet
again before their alleged cleverness, skill, noble-spiritedness, and bravery. They
again fail to distinguish between a certain acumen, a certain agility of mind, such
as is necessary for lying, falsifying, and stealing, and that deeper gift of advancing
through superior ability and noble work. Thus, they raise these people up unde-
servedly on pedestals, and fail to see themselves as thereby demeaned. These mu-
sicians need to be told in no uncertain terms that, even with such indierence,
they would not measure up to Beethovens standard, and precisely because of
their indierence.

A summer incident. It was last summer [1921]. In a dairy farm high up in the
Alps, two German ladies at my table were brought an all-too-frugal lunch. As the
young waitress was about to cheat the two ladies on the exchange ratethe con-
sequence of a democratic education!I intervened to prevent the deception, and
so fell into conversation with the ladies. They complained bitterly about condi-
tions in Germany. I was explaining to them the reasons for this sorry state of
aairs when a portly Swabian Jew emerged from the next room, having obviously
overheard me. He came over to me unsummoned: Sir, everyone here, inside and
out, are democrats.As he said this his hand swept around the room and gestured
out to the veranda to impress on me the presence of a democratic majority. He
continued intrepidly: The blame lies with the nobility,
55
but the ordinary people
scorn the nobility. I dismissed this gentleman without a word, for I saw in him
the archetypal German democrat who, while jumping for joy at having ousted
yesterdays ruling class, is blind to how greatly the German ordinary people,
who scorn their aristocracy, are now themselves scorned by all the scornful
peoples of the world.
56

What is the people? I, too, am of the people! Bismarck once declared.

57
He,
genius that he is, knows exactly what the people is; but not the converse: his kin-
dred people do not know what and who he, the Junker Bismarck, is. (Goethe
knows and treasures the work of the craftsman, but the latter knows nothing of
Goethe.) Those who profess to be the sole representatives of the German people,
the German democrats, prove now that they have risen through past acts of
treachery to the leadership they long sought, quite incapable of sustaining undi-
minished and undeled the German Empire that was created by the genius of the
Junker. Instead, they scream out with the might of the majority: Junkers are not
people. But note that, in 1883, the French ambassador unreservedly acknowl-
edges the Junker Bismarcks love of peace: If the Chancellor ever lays down his
oce, stormy times will be in store for Europe. The greed of ever-discontented
nations, which is currently held in check, will then overow, and the small-
minded ones who incite them in order to satisfy their personal thirst for power
and vanity will raise their heads everywhere. Then for the rst time we will ap-
preciate how priceless the current German policy is for the peace and prosperity
of the nations.
In this way, he recognizes in the Junker Bismarck a love of peace that the en-
tire German people shares with hima love of which Tacitus could say more
than 2,000 years ago: Devoid of greed or power lust, they live in peace and tran-
quillity, inciting no one to war, and not molesting their neighbors by pillage and
plunder. It is glittering proof of their valor and strength that they do not owe
their superior might to acts of violence. {34} Yet, they are always ready for battle,
and if need arises they dispatch a mighty army on foot and horseback into the
Miscellanea
131
54
Beethoven-Forschung: lose Bltter, ed. T. von Frimmel (Vienna: Kommissionsverlag Gerold,
191125), vol. 2, p. 47. Carl Friedrich Freiherr Kbeck von Kbau, German writer; his diary entry is
dated February 20, 1801.
55
Ferschten: Schenker is mocking the Swabian pronunciation of Frsten (princes).
56
Passage deleted from page proofs for the Miscellanea: OC 39/25.
57
See note 7.
battleeld.
58
Even General Foch in his book Des principes de la guerre admits that
the French campaigns of 1854 59 were entirely politically inspired, and that of
1870 was a war of aggression: Even the War of 187071 was undertaken by the
French government out of dynastic interests, in order to bolster its faltering
power through a victory considered there for the taking.
59
But it is precisely the people of the German democrats whose love of peace
the other democratic peoples refuse to credit, simply because their millions do
not amount to even one Bismarck. Thus, the English democrats taunt us: Are
there no great men left in Germany? Clearly questioner and questioned alike fail
to realize that there is no such thing as, nor can there ever be, a great democrat.
At best, there are men of great democratic deception, thievery, bad faith, and
breach of promise, which they, democrats as they are, and ushed with brief
nancial success, mistake for the greatness of genius.
Democracy is the eternal disappointment of mankind. Is it, perhaps, a form
of idealism? No! To think out-and-out incompetency worthy, and to live by it,
would be an eternal lie against oneself and others.
The democrat is chaos; he is desolate, raw Nature, brute thought. He thus
runs counter to the spirituality of a primeval cause, the spirituality of the light,
the genius of aristocratism, counter to all selectivity and synthesis.
The moment in his childhood when he sees through the tale of the stork, he
promptly discards God, as if God were some kind of out-of-favor politician
whom one expects to depose at gunpoint or by insurrection. Who created this
great world? What for? The democrat has all the answersfor apart from know-
ing nothing whatsoever, he knows everything. His navel is for him the center of
the world, and the purpose of creation is his preoccupation, business.
Because he is spiritually barren, the democrat does not see the need for a spir-
ituality of civil life that must express itself everywhere, even in a certain artisan-
ship and measuredness of synthesis. With no inkling of how the spiritual element
of the state and spiritual men in civil society bring him nourishment, he scrambles
undigniedly after worldly goodsKant says: For anything that has a price,
something else can be put in its place as its equivalent. By contrast, that which is
above all price has true value.he wants the very state itself to express only his
chaos and nothing else, to emulate his nature, which lives infusory-like by the lips
and the arse.
Political freedom for him is thus not an ethical concept of an artistically
crafted synthesis: it is yet again merely the forces of chaos and unruliness, the sort
of freedom that wild horses possess. (Goethe: In peacetime, on the other hand,
mans duty to work comes more and more to the fore; and the freer he is, the freer
he wishes to be. He will tolerate nothing over him; we do not like being restricted:
no one should be restricted. And this tender, even sickly, feeling appears to the
nave person as a manifestation of justice.) In reality, his party is not a political
one within the state, but merely some sort of Nature party that frequents the ex-
treme fringes of society, indefatigably devoted to realizing the supposed natural
equality of all men.
His hair ying, he collides with everyone in authority. He is the people who
are forever grumbling.
60
He descends from those Levites who inveighed against
Moses with the words (Numbers, xvi, [3]): The whole community is holy, every
one of them, and the Lord is with them. Why then do you set yourselves above
the Lords assembly? But the answer came back from him [ibid., 911]: Isnt it
enough for you that the God of Israel has separated you from the rest of the Is-
raelite community and brought you near himself to make oerings to him. . . but
now you are trying to get the priesthood too. It is against the Lord that you and
all your followers have banded together. Who is Aaron that you should grumble
against him?
61
He denies authority any aristocratic quality: to him, all men are
alike. But even the biggest populist sham harbors a tiny aristocratic corner in his
own soul as he steps up before his masses, whom he calls uninformed and
tonwi lle 3
132
58
Schenkers source for this quotation was a panel at the top of p. 1 of the Unterhaltungsbeilage
der Tglichen Rundschau for August 23, 1921: How did Tacitus speak of the Germans? These words,
written by one of the greatest historians of all time about the Germans more than 2,000 years ago, are
signicant still today and will not change the lies of Germanys enemies one iota.Concluding words
from Sven Hedins war book Eastward! Field edition.: clipping, OC 24/32. The passage is from Taci-
tus, De origine et situ Germanorum, chap.35, 2, see Cornelii Taciti Opera Minora, ed. M. Winter-
bottom and R. M. Ogilvie (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1975), p. 55; trans. J. B. Rives (ibid., 1999), p. 91.
However, Tacitus (a.d. c. 25c. 117) is speaking here not of the Germans as a whole, but of the coastal
northwesterly tribe, the Chauci. Tacituss text apparently drew much attention from German nation-
alists around World War I.
59
Ferdinand Foch (18511929), French general, chief advocate for the annexation by France of all
territory to the west of the Rhine River, and the establishment of a Rhineland state, following the
Franco-Prussian War. Schenker took this quotation from an article, Zum Kapitel Kriegsschuld, ap-
pearing in the Tgliche Rundschau, July 28, 1921: clipping, OC 24/29. It is part of a communication
from a Colonel Buddecke concerning the outbreak of war in 1914.
60
Murrt: So the people grumbled (das Volk murrte) against Moses . . . (Exodus 15.24); Why do
the nations conspire, and the peoples plot (die Vlker murren) so in vain, etc.
61
Translation modied from the New International Version.
thus in need of his leadership. Authority he may be to others, but not others to
him; power and compulsion he may exert over others, but not others over him.
Just as his rst outward expression of freedom is, as a rule, to smear royal palaces
with excrement, so he carries this further, even to besmirching the palaces of the
great thinkers because his delusion of equality does not acknowledge them. He
wants only people like himself, because people like himself are all that he can
understand.
He hates intellect. And even if he makes a gesture toward invoking intellectual
aristocrats and welcoming dealings with them, thisin spite of all that we know
about Natureis the only friction that never releases anything.
62
His intellectual
palate is no less undiscerning: he still enjoys the rancid and the fresh with equal
relish. He remains a snob, to use a foreign word that ts him perfectly, whether
he is middle-class or working-classa snob who aects to do business with the
grandeur and nobility of the intellect merely because the label nobility costs
him little, indeed nothing. He can socialize money, but never intellect.
{35} The democrat obliterates the past and future of generations, but makes
no history, understands none, and reads none. If he had his way, history would
be taught in school only with the goal in mind that he himself has revealed. Let
us take care to instruct the youth of today in how democrats of all times have
lived solely for destruction, and in how genuine public service existed long before
their self-inated version of it. The democrat is eternally ahistorical, like the
anthills over which only the changing seasons pass, and not the tides of con-
sciousness. What we call the history of mankind is but a last paltry remnant of
the snapped threads that aristocrats of the intellect since time immemorial have
spun for us, remnants that have fortunately so far withstood destruction by the
Democrats.
True, men of limited ability are found occupying even princely thrones. But
the advantages of the aristocratic principle underlying the monarchy outweigh
the disadvantages of any personal inadequacy. (Novalis says: A true democracy
is an absolute Minus-state. A true monarchy is an absolute Plus-state.) How
could it ever be otherwise? Better, then, merely to have one ass on the throne than
to have millions on petty democratic thrones?
The democrat wants life to be to his advantage, for only as advantage can he
enjoy it. Self-interest is, after all, the principle underlying the democratic system
of government. Once the decient and the dishonest had gured out that the
simpleton masses were readier to suspect any one man, or elite group, over them
of using force or of eecing them, they cunningly elevated the people to the
throne. For in the hallowed name of the peopleinvisible and intangible as
that isthe masses could be duped all the more easily. After all, who, having been
robbed, would think to ask whether it was the government or the people who
had done the stealing? It is possible to send a Napoleon packing, like some im-
portunate traveler; but is it so easy, for example, to cope with the entire French
people when they steal?
That is how the self-seekers conspire to form democracies, condent that
their system of government is protecting them from repercussions. Suddenly,
however, democracies rise up in arms against democracies,
63
monetary interests
against monetary interests: They know best what they mean by the slogan Lib-
erty, Equality, Fraternity, and what they stand to gain from one another.
(Goethe: How talk of freedom is never more rife than when one party wants to
take the other over, and is not known for anything but power, inuence, and
wealth passing from one hand to the other. Freedom is the secret password of
conspirators, and the rallying cry of open revolutionaries, the very motto of des-
potism itself as it drives its downtrodden masses into battle against the enemy,
promising them relief for all time from external pressure.)
But what if the lie of the people, the stealing and plundering, continues its vo-
racious progress in the name of the people? Who will consign the whole of
mankind to a penal institution or a reform home? Will we need a dierent race
to come down from some other star to attack and exterminate us, as we ourselves
exterminated the mammoths in prehistoric times? Or is the moment of unmask-
ing at hand, the revision of democracy? Is it dawning on people that genius and
democracy are a contradictio in adjecto?Never has there been a genius who
thought democratically, and it would be a falsehood to count geniuses as belong-
ing to the people merely because they were not princes by heredity.Is it
dawning on people that a democrat is someone incapable of anything but de-
ceiving and deluding himself and others? It is high time we recognized that the
Miscellanea
133
62
Die eine Reibung, die nie etwas auslst: Schenker is playing on the word Reibung friction in
the colloquial sense used in English (nothing rubs o on him)].
63
[S]Against democrats, one needs soldiers, said Bismarcka maxim that translates well even
into foreign politics. The past (Greece, Rome) conrms it, to say nothing of the present. Just consider
how full the crafty peoples of the West (and their partisans) are not only of democratic fraud and cor-
ruption but also of militarism. And who are they armed against? Against democrats. Thus will it al-
ways be, for democracy is business only, and business only means perpetual war.
opposite of what the democrat maintains is in fact correct: just as only he who is
against youth is for it, so too only he who is against the people is for it.

There, right on Germanys doorstep, sits the Lilliputian nation of the French, its
soul still in diapersone can scarcely call it a soul. Its spirit is incapable of pen-
etrating to the heart of the truth, where all human vanities are but vanity.
64
Its
spirit is the dross that is left when spirit does not possess the genius of truth or
morality. This Lilliputian people calls it esprit. To the deep waters of the spirit it
is nothing buta pu of spray. For those purposes, its language is threadbare,
too restricted to meet the demands of a true spiritual insight, and yet canny
enough to express everyday mundanities in a mendaciously plausible way.
Since the Frenchman lacks depth and probity, all that he knows of the rela-
tionships of man to God and to his fellow-men in honor, state, and community
of nations he must have acquired through a distorting fabric of lies. He lies his
way out of them with his esprit, but is convinced by his lies because not even he
thinks it possible for a man {36} to lie so much. For him, neither God, man,
woman, state, freedom, right, law, custom, nor fame are ever what they are and
must always be; instead, they are whatever his vanity, and its mouthpiece the es-
prit, need them to be. Even the simplest irrefutable truth turns into a lie in
French, because it disports with esprit, with outward eect. Thus, in him, neither
philosophy, nor poetry, nor music can prosperthe form of his art is not in re-
ality the form of the work itself: it is merely his Lilliputian handiwork super-
cially grafted on to art; and his whole world is a veritable spiritual and moral half-
world, demi-monde with demi-libert, demi-gloire, etc. It is truly a Lilliputian
people of the lowest rank when measured on merit against all preceding nations,
back to the beginning of time. What would have become of mankind if it had had
to depend on the intellectually barren, spiritually impoverished French people;
and what is there that had not been said a thousand times more truly, purely,
nobly, and worthily before this people rst glimpsed the light of day! In Alsatia,
so the joke goes, the French had the World War won for themthe joke cap-
tures the truth aptlyjust as they got culture won for them from foreign na-
tions; but with esprit-mendacity, they distorted, garbled, falsied it. If they ever
stop making 2 2 5, it will only be because they know that the world will get
a good laugh out of such an invention.
The Frenchmans truest talenthis inherent talentis now and always will
be that of hating Germans and stealing their territory,
65
so that by expropriations
and indolence he can soak up worldly vanities and brag about them. He scorns
Germans as ponderous because he does not understand them. He fails to under-
stand them because all the slickness of mind on which he prides himself does not
begin to measure up to the lightning mental speed with which German genius
plumbs the wonders of the intellect. This explains why our great thinkers, despite
their prodigious labors, gladly took the time to impart to us something of French
literature, whereas their foremost men, with all their esprit-gallopade, were pre-
vented from making German literature available to their fellow-countrymen by
virtue of their ponderous intellects and the shortcomings of their language (and
by no means out of national pride).
And now, so as to satisfy her hatred of Germans and her thievish cravings all
in one, France is once again using its position of authority to be ocious. Be-
cause of her limited intelligence, she knows nothing whatsoever about Poles,
Czechs, Rumanians, Hungarians, and numerous others, and yet she divides them
up as so much swag and herds them like cattle wherever she chooses.
66
She has
stockpiled armaments on a vast scale, and is determined to gain supremacy by
obstinacy, even without having anything to oer the nations. France can do no
right, and really has nothing to give.
The French have regained their virility.
67
The danger is suddenly acute, for the
whole of cheap humanity, so to speak the intellectual provincial public from all
countries, including Germany, is constantly ocking to the cheap little Lilliput
nation. But rst of all, in our own country we should like to see all carriers of the
French given a massive dose of salvarsan.
68
Let them imagine themselves on the
tonwi lle 3
134
64
Ecclesiastes 1.2; 12.8: Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities: all is vanity; ibid,
iii.19 . . . man hath no preeminence over a beast: for all is vanity. See also Job 7.16.
65
[S]Moltke (1841): Under I dont know how many false pretexts, and for goodness knows what to-
tally self-contradictory principles, the French have come to us in the past ostensibly to render help but
in fact to rob us. They snatched Burgundy from us in the name of the pope, the dioceses of Lorraine,
and Alsatia, in the name of the Reformation and as protectors of the Lutherans. They seized Strasbourg
and Holland in the name of absolute monarchy, they acquired Spain, Naples and Lorraine in the name
of legitimacy, and nally Holland, the Netherlands, and the entire left bank of the Rhine they unied
or at least allied with France as tightly as they could in the name of freedom and the republican prin-
ciple. Four times they invoked a dierent principle, but with each one they stole a region from us.
66
The allusion is presumably to the Eastern European provisions of the Versailles Treaty, nalized
in the spring of 1919, or to subsequent implementation of those provisions.
67
[S]In common parlance, as in the literature of the greats, syphilis is called (on well-known his-
torical grounds) the French.
68
Salvarsan: trade name of the arsenical drug arsphenamine, formulated by Paul Ehrlich in 1909. It
was the most eective drug for treatment of syphilis until the discovery of antibiotic penicillin in 1928.
Goethe-Massif, making a tour of European (i.e., French) thought, seeing all man-
ner of pioneers in France, taking the shallow breathing of esprit-lungs for high-
level originality, debasing what is in essence German speech and writing with the
glitter of French, and reducing it to the condition of esprit-lies. Let them try to
make themselves understood by a France that has not yet learned to understand
itself; let them seek to promote the legend of German Alsatia to the greater
glory of a Louis xiv, the mars christianissimus (Leibniz),
69
feeling ashamed of past
betrayal (like the betrayers in Dantes Inferno); let them want to forswear their
very name; let them betray to the enemy every action in the national interest (as
the German communists did every German gun), let them translate interna-
tional as anational, or at least as anything-but-German. Let them buy Oen-
bach soap
70
in Paris, and fancy themselves able to play parlor games exclusively
la Pompadour. Let them all come out and be taken to a German clinic for thor-
ough treatment!
71
Hurry, hurry! For the English have virtually reduced the Ger-
mans to starvation with their dishonorable blockade,
72
and the French (Jean
Paul) will soon suck out the German brain, at which point that brain will alto-
gether vanish from the world, the brain that like none other exposes their lies and
small-mindedness. {37}

An early German music theorist, Hermann Finck, wrote in 1556:

73
There is
space here for me to say only a little in defense of the Germans, who have for
many centuries now been regarded by people of other lands as totally unmusi-
cal . . . I shall now speak of the art of singing sweetly and with grace. In earlier
times, people of other lands arrogated this praiseworthy quality to themselves
alone, and totally excluded the Germans. In due course, the history of music
completely justied Hermann Finck. Germany has brought forth musical genius
such as has put the arrogance of all people of other lands rmly in its place.
Now, however, we have the English condescending to pity Germany openly
for a recent piece of musical bungling.
74
Clearly not so stupid as to denounce
these trends before the whole world as a form of German moral guilt, which
would given them the right to reduce Germany punitively to a mere chattel,
75
they must have in mind to use this as a pretext for questioning the superiority of
German musicsomething that seems to taunt them.
When the German negotiator appealed to the judgment of world history
recently regarding World War guilt, the English prime minister
76
scornfully
quipped: When does history begin? With this question, the Englishman betrays
himself as having no taste for the verdicts of history when they go against him,
and implicitly as acknowledging only the history that advances his cause. He be-
lieves only in the God who allows him to steal, rob, murder, lie, and trample all
over treaties and international law. The other day, a noble lord articulated this be-
lief in God with words to the eect that England had accrued a great deal of land
against its own will. (Indeed, Kant says: The English nation . . . is the most pre-
cious assembly of men, seen in relation to one another. But as one state against
other states it is the most pernicious, the most violent, the most domineering and
bellicose of all.) And if he believes this, then he may well be hoping that the up-
shot of the war, which he deems a victory, will endow even him with the hith-
erto German muse of music. By his way of thinking, the history of music does
not begin until the day England bestows upon the world the greatest musical ge-
nius. So let the English now hear this, loud and clear, in German: The history of
music cannot possibly accommodate the English, forLloyd George mark my
words!it has already begun, and its verdict has been handed down for all time.
No matter whether humanity pays its respects in Japanese or perhaps in English,
Miscellanea
135
69
Mars Christianissimus (The Most Christian War-God) is the title of a violent pamphlet writ-
ten by Leibniz against Louis xiv in 1683, after the French king had taken Strasbourg and laid claim to
ten cities in Alsatia in 1681.
70
Presumably soap manufactured by the chemical industry of Oenbach-am-Main, in Hessen.
71
Compare Back to school with them! . . . To German school with them! in The Mission of
German Genius, Tonwille 1, p. 10/i, p. 10.
72
See The Mission of German Genius, note 62.
73
Practica Musica Hermanii Finckii . . . (Wittenberg: Georg Rhau heirs, 1556; facs edn Stuttgart:
Cornetto-Verlag, 1995), . Ss [i] verso, Ss ii, verso: Pauca hoc loco mihi pro defensione Germanorum
dicenda restant, qui multis iam saeculis plane amousoi ab exteris gentibus habentur . . . dicemus nunc
de arte suaviter & eleganter, seu . . . ornat canendi. Hanc laudem sibi superiore aetate peregrinae
gentes, solam arrogarunt, Germanosque ab ea prorsus excluserunt.
74
Musikmacherei. 1921 saw the resumption of coverage of musical events in Germany and Austria
in British music journals after a seven-year hiatus.
It is not possible denitively to identify the report in question. Schenker may be referring to
Ernest Newmans comments in his The World of Music column for the Sunday Times. Newman
wrote four polemical pieces on Stravinsky and Schoenberg between July 10 and December 18, 1921, the
last of which contains a subsection entitled Sham Music.
From the tone of his remarks, Schenker is clearly distancing himself from the events at which
these works were heard.
75
An allusion to Germanys war guilt after World War I, as the following paragraph veries. See
The Mission of German Genius, note 46.
76
David Lloyd George, prime minister until October 19, 1922.
the history of music will never again have to begin; for that which German musi-
cal genius has revealed is of such profundity that not even all the human races that
may arise between now and the end of time will ever match it. Music will remain
eternallya dire word in the ear of Englandmade in Germany!
77
Let me re-
peat: Not on the basis of tomorrows music, but on that of yesterdays; which ren-
ders it unnecessary to inquire how far a certain branch of contemporary German
musical bungling justies the Englishmans pity. No encirclement,
78
no World
War machinations, no lies, no calumny can render this made in Germany more
international! The Englishman a lord, a lord of the world? Democratic think-
ing, democratic cant. Only he who is ruled by the spirit is truly lord of the world!

In one of the recent concerts by the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, its con-
ductor
79
appeared, so to speak, wearing French livery: he presented an all-French
program, and did so at the very moment when ocial documents had just come
to light incontrovertibly establishing what had long been recognized, namely that
prime responsibility for the World War lay with France and Russia, documents
revealing French falsications that led directly to that War. He did it, thus, at the
very moment when Frances historically predatory nature was unmasked before
the whole world, and when it was caught red-handed in the act of grabbing yet
more German property.
Evidently the worthy artistic director, as a musician, does not realize (although
it behooves a German to know this) what hateful blots on the history of mankind
the diktats of Versailles and St. Germain are. He does not realize how culturally
antipathetic a role France has actually played up to now.
80
That means he cannot
even understand that a higher place is to be accorded to German poetry than to
French. But, as a German musician he should by now perfectly well know how
much greater German musical genius, the German endowment with music, is
than God-forsaken French mediocrity and inferiority, no matter how it is decked
out with every conceivable trapping of lgance, of esprit for talent bestowed by
Gods or Natures grace. If German statesmen, German theater directors, German
school teachers and translators, German journalists and book publishers do not
already know what the French character is at base, and how much the world
would benet if only they would take a shrewder, more appraising look at France
than in centuries gone by, then it would unquestionably redound to the benet
of the German musician, especially at a time when things German are so scorned,
if they were to carry the banner of German musical genius in the front line, and
at least to restore, on behalf of all who cannot summon the strength on their own
account, the self-respect that they deserve.
What on earth could suddenly have given the conductor of the Vienna Phil-
harmonic in such an hour the idea of a concert devoted to French music? Was it
perhaps pressure arising from the fact that the great-great-grandchildren of that
revolution which promulgated the Enlightenment lies about human rights and
equality robbed Germans of their right to self-determination, thus acquiring it
with the one hand only to surrender it with the other to no less mendacious
stolen-goods democracies? Or was it a conscious expression of grateful devotion
to the French people, rendered in the heady enjoyment of French-democratic
Voltaire-Rousseau-Clmenceau-Briand-Poincar-freedom, which German dem-
ocrats and cosmopolites have always prized more highly than Hohenzollern- or
Habsburg-freedom?
But I personally preferalways assuming free will on the part of the artistic
directorto account for his outrageous act through his musical shortcomings.
By chance, I have the opportunity to show in the next issue that this very musi-
cian does not even know how to read a Beethoven symphony (the Fifth).
81
Then
the reader will be in a better position to appreciate that it was his incapacity to
tonwi lle 3
136
77
In English, in Roman type.
78
See The Mission of German Genius, note 49.
79
Felix Weingartner, conductor of the orchestra from 1908 to 1927 and the author of books that
Schenker included in his survey of the literature on Beethovens Fifth Symphony.
80
[S]Herder: Out of friendship for all men and peoples, I let foreign nations complete what
they have begun. Our neighbor has, throughout the ages, been a source of ferment for the German
nation, a sour leavening for other nations. Within her borders lay the center of the dreadful and far-
reaching cult of Druidism. In Greek and Roman times, the Gallic columns were sent forth to rob and
plunder far and wide. It has been exactly a thousand years since her Charlemagne (for he proceeded
ruthlessly against Germany, and with his plans he made of us a bitter enemy for a millennium). It is
a thousand years since he gave Rome a pope, and in defense of the latter established himself as
Emperor. The consequences of a Roman-Frankish hierarchy have since that time not been limited to
Europe. It was from France that the crusades went forth to the Orient, Germany taking part in them
crudely and mindlessly, that is, without being for or against anything. It was from France that the In-
quisition emanated and fought to root out heretics and indels as savages and Saracens. It was from
France that sophistry emanated as the hair-splitting of scholasticism, as the spirit of Philip the Fair,
of the succession of kings named Louis, who . . . but I see you disappearing, Aurora! . . .
(Aurora)
[See note 9.]
81
The second installment of Schenkers essay on Beethovens Fifth, which included a review of the
literature on the symphony, was not published until Tonwille 5.
recognize German genius that may well have driven himindeed, must certainly
have driven himto overrate French musicianship. The artistic director has no
idea that Berlioz, purely on his own terms, let alone measured beside a Beetho-
ven, is not even a rank beginner when it comes to musical composition. What is
so laughable, so derisory, about his conduct is that sheer downright ignorance
leads him to the extremity of canvassing for French art, or for the cosmopolitan
mentality, or both, in a form that casts a false light not only an a respected insti-
tution but on the nation, or at least on the premier musical city.
82
But it is not my intentiondespite what certain people might thinkto de-
prive Germans of the joy of discovering greatness in foreigners.
83
Since I revere
true genius, the distinguishing mark of which is forever only the solving, not the
mere parading, of fundamental questions about humanity, art, etc., as an ever-
present model to guide hapless mankind in all its doingsand I believe that I
have oered examples of insight into the power of genius, and its capacity for
nding solutions, such as no one who has preceded me, either in Germany or
elsewhere
84
how could I reconcile it with my conscience, with my mission, if I
were to belittle a genius, even if it be a foreign one? I should far rather hold rm
to my commitment by condemning the all too many who thirst after greatness
among foreigners more ardently than among their own kin, and by declaring that
they clearly have no talent at all for recognizing greatness, since instead of com-
mitting an indiscretion against German genius they would instead defend it
against the aspersions of foreigners. One really cannot begin to understand a
Michelangelo or Rembrandt, a Shakespeare or Dostoyevsky, etc., if one has no
more than the conventional knowledge of the Germans Bach, Beethoven, and
Goethe, i.e. not knowing and feeling precisely what lifts them above the non-
geniuses.
The tactlessness I have censured here is so much more serious as it comes
from the characteristic German way of praising in every eld only that which is
foreign, but judging all the more strictly that which is native. So
85
why doesnt
the German judge foreign things with at least the same severity as this? Just think
how many opportunities the present day aords him for this on all fronts, espe-
cially on the political! If he cared to, he would see a veritable {38} madhouse of
democrats in other countries who conduct international trade as if it were the
very slave trade incarnate,
86
who worship theft as if it were a lart pour larti.e.
stealing and dividing the spoils without even knowing what is being stolen or
whyand with, so to speak, the very latest reckoning setting in motion a migra-
tion of peoples (needless to say, at Germanys cost). If he put his mind to it, he
would surely see that they all stagger from one mistake to another, from one out-
rage to another, while being quite incapable of undoing their own damage, let
alone repairing that of others. He would soon realize that they are all (to use a pet
phrase of Mozarts) as helpless as a child standing in his own dirt, and that, in
the mentality of the Marxist mob (who for the sake of an asinine spirit of equal-
ity hate their so-called card-carrying comrades), they are all xated on the one
goal, namely obliterating himthe card-carrying German. The German citi-
zen would surely see, judge, and spurn it all; but he has neither the eyes nor the
ears for it, and turns his judgment in all its severity entirely against his own esh
and blood, as if stupidity and botch-work were the sole preserve of the Germans.
Instead of sending heroic poetry ringing out into the world, the epic of the World
War for the glorication of the German defense forces, a worldwide judgment of
the crazed envy of insolent nations, he squanders his strength in the battle of
party against party without realizing that in so doing he is oering his enemies,
who understand nothing of his true nature, a pretext more welcome than ever
to read the internecine recriminations as a further admission of guilt, and so to
ratchet up the punitive measures. The German does not even take the trouble to
consider that it is contrary to the nature of foreign peoplesinjurious to their
sense of dignityto take note of him more than he himself is willing to take even
in the best circumstances. If, for example, instead of issuing a declaration of
democracy in Weimar, and instituting protection of freedom for foreigners, the
woeful consequences of which we see today, the rst move had been a boycott of
everything French, the French people would surely not have harbored aspirations
about taking the Rhineland. But is there any way to help a nation that, in Hlder-
lins words, mindlessly disavows its own soul?
Miscellanea
137
82
This passage (including Schenkers footnote) was deleted from the page proofs for the Miscel-
lanea: OC 39/2930.
83
In the published version of Tonwille 3, this sentence began: For whatever future eventuality, let
me put on record unequivocally here that it is absolutely not my intention . . .
84
The idea of being the rst person to unlock the true secrets of musical genius resonates
throughout Schenkers writings, most notably in A Bach Prelude from the Miscellanea of Tonwille
no. 5 (see especially p. 55/i, p. 22223).
85
Passage deleted from page proofs for the Miscellanea: OC 39/30.
86
Compare note 66. Schenker is referring here and in what follows to the redrawing of national
boundaries, the creation of new nation-states (notably Poland and Czechoslovakia), and the moving
of peoples across borderlines, under the Versailles Treaty. He deplores this demographic engineering
in its own right, and also what he sees as Germanys losses of territory, displacement of people, and
reduced total population.
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Tonwille 4
This page intentionally left blank
The ground-plan of the prelude is presented at a), b), and c) of the following
gure:
a) shows the compositional elaboration [Auskomponierung] of the space of a
fourth within I, g to c, with the root and third stationary. At b), two lower thirds
and two lower sixths accompany the fourth-progression, while the root remains
stationary. But at c), the bass takes over the progression of what was previously
the middle voice (on this technique of elaboration, cf. Freier Satz).
1
Next, the
Urlinie (see the graph of the Urlinie, p. 142) follows the path of the lled-in fourth,
except that now the initial chordal conguration is also elaborated linearly, as
seen at d): the upper and lower voices pass by step through 35 and 13 of the
chord. After this comes ornamentation with neighbor notes (see e)) which may
be misleading, because they are set over their own roots (see f)). These interpo-
lated roots do transform the dissonant neighbor notes into consonant sonorities,
admittedly; but they nonetheless are subsumed, along with the neighbor notes,
under the concept of a dissonant passing motion, so that they lack the signi-
cance of harmonic degrees, in spite of their unbroken progression by fths.
2
The
practice of expressing a dissonant value through a consonant chord was espe-
cially cultivated by the masters, precisely for the sake of the illusion inherent in
it; its origins reach back to the oldest contrapuntal era, in a form whose rst
traces are detectable in mixed-species cantus rmus settings (cf. Kontrapunkt ii,
pp. 171/pp. 175 ). At the same time, the interpolation of the fth-progressions
serves to remove consecutive fths.
For the further decoration of the setting, the master employs suspensions. He
presents the rst one as early as bar 1 (see the long appoggiaturas in the graph of
the Urlinie), but only in the inner voice. It is an eternal, irrefutable law of creative
nature to show life itself openly, but to keep hidden the germ from which it
springs. The deep wisdom of the great German masters, to fulll this law consis-
tently in their artistic creations, too, in the least of them as in the greatest, truly
cannot be praised enough! In this case, one need only leave out the rst suspen-
sion of the inner voice, and one will recognize from the bad eect that Bach could
not possibly have introduced a suspension for the rst time in the upper voice in
the second bar.
In bars 35, instead of climbing up from g
2
to a
2
, a descending path is sought,
to a
1
, by way of passing tones. The following gure shows the origin of the pass-
ing tones at a) and the course of their progressive elaboration at b) and c):
141
Bachs Little Prelude No. 1 in C Major, BWV 924
J. S. Bach: Zwlf kleine Prludien, Nr. 1{Tonwille 4, pp. 36}
t r a ns l at e d b y j os e p h dub i e l
1
Depending on the scope attributed to the expression dieser Auskomponierung, virtually the
whole of Der freie Satz could be cited. Particularly relevant might be 170 (transformation of disso-
nant passing tones into consonances), 173 (parallelism between passing motion and supporting mo-
tion), 212 (fourth-progression), and 221 (combining linear progressions). No passage discusses
the specic procedure of transferring a succession like efde from the middle voice, where it orig-
inates, to the bass, let alone the complication (which Schenker does not acknowledge) that the new
bass voice in this case is not a simple transfer of the inner voice, but a composite of the middle and
bass voices of the preceding stage.
2
Quintzge, here and in the last sentence of the paragraph: the use of this word does not depend
on the intervals being lled by passing motion.
{4} At b), a series of simple 56 exchanges can be seen. At c), a diminution of
the inner voice, in the form of fourth-progressions, which bring with them their
requisite chromaticism as something substantially self-explanatory. The next en-
richment (see the graph of the Urlinie) comes from the reinforcement of the
fourth-progressions with upper thirds. And nally a rearrangement of the voices,
bringing the original lower voice to lie close beneath the upper voice, completes
the setting as it is presented in our piece.
3
Had Bach applied suspensions in the
upper voice in bars 4 and 5, as he did in bars 2 and 3, this would have caused us to
assign the same rank to the tones e
2
and c
2
as to g
2
. But, here, in order to solidify
the passing motion between g
2
and a
1
, rmly connected and serving precisely as
passing motion, Bach does without suspensions in the upper voice from the up-
beat of bar 3 onward, thereby establishing a unied progression in half notes as an
identifying feature of the passing motion. Only in bar 7 does another suspension
appear in the upper voice; until then, the newly acquired inner voice continues the
suspensionsindeed it compensates for the cessation of the suspensions in the
upper voice by presenting two suspensions in each bar, so that, from the upbeat of
bar 1 onward, a suspension nonetheless recurs regularly on every rst and third
beat. What abundance has issued from the germ, what life in all beats of the bar!
After the fourth-progression has come to an end in bar 6, the leading tone ap-
pears immediately in bar 7. However, it occurs here under circumstances that re-
quire continuation of the setting: the dominant still lacks the seventh, and thus
the power of a passing motion to lead to the third of the tonic more compellingly
than a leap (ge). That Bach lets the rst opportunity for the seventh pass by is
based on an artistic intention, of course: it is the desire to spin a tale, which can-
not get enough of exquisite tensions and convolutions. Let us acquaint ourselves
with the miraculous fruits of this profound narrative art.
The upper voice duly moves directly down to the seventh in bars 7 and 8. But
meanwhile its descent disturbs the position of the chord in bar 9, in that the lead-
ing tone, predetermined by the setting to end up in the register above the seventh,
as in bars 1718, turns out to be in the inner voice. Now it is time to seek the right
path again. Thus, the rst arpeggio in bars 9 and 10who would ever see this
purpose in it!already places the third above the seventh, so that the suitable
chordal position of bar 7 recurs on the rst beat of bar 10. But now the high reg-
ister (b
2
) prevents an immediate closea new pretext for the search for b
1
.
4
The slurs in the graph of the Urlinie now show how the descent from b
2
to b
1
in bars 1017 is articulated into segments of an augmented fourth and dimin-
ished fth, corresponding to the dominant chord. That these two segments (if
bars 78 are included) are then presented twice in successionb
1
f
1
and b
2
f
2
in bars 78 and 1013, f
2
b
1
and f
2
b
1
again in bars 1315 and bars 1617is to
be admired as a stroke of genius: Bach atones for his oence against the com-
mandment of parallelism!
{5} The passing motions in bars 1113 are based on a 76 succession. In order
to understand the passing motion in bars 14 15 one must imagine, rst, a motion
in thirds in the two highest voices; then a third, lower, voice added to them, on
every rst and third beat, a fth below the upper voice; and, nally, a fourth, low-

tonwi lle 4
142
3
That is, the lowest voice of Figs. 2b and 2c is moved up an octave. Another change is that the
middle voice of Fig. 2c is moved down an octave; Schenker does not mention this, presumably be-
cause his concern is only with the vertical ordering of the voices.
4
One wonders how the register of b
2
that is, the original register of the Urlinie, before the
downward transfer shown in Fig. 2can be unsuitable for the nal cadence, and that of b
1
, the re-
sult of the transfer, suitable, unless the law of the obligatory conduct of registers (see the essay on
Prelude No. 4, Tonwille 5) has been suspended. When Schenker revisits this piece in Der freie Satz
(14041 and Fig. 43 for b)), he reinterprets it completely, with an Urlinie descending from 3, with
e
2
f
2
g
2
a
1
b
1
c
2
as a secondary motion (octave-displaced halfway through) connecting this upper
voice to an inner voice a third below it, and b (primarily in the register b
1
) then part of the inner voice
as well. In fact he cites the piece primarily to show that there is no linear motion from e
2
to b
1
in the
unfolding e
2
c
2
b
1
d
2
, which resonates interestingly with one of his complaints about the alternate
version of the prelude, later.
est voice in thirds below the third one.
5
(This, too, is fundamentally a matter of
the avoidance of consecutive fthscf. Freier Satz [Der freie Satz 164].)
With the fourth quarter-note of bar 15, the leading tone has returned to the
upper voice, it is true, but now the chord has once again lost its seventh (cf. bar 7),
because of the conduct of the passing motions in the segment just completed.
How Bach now seeks to attain it a second time must be accounted among the most
exquisite voice-leading. The mere fact that he lets the lower voice advance from g
1
to f
1
on the last eighth note of bar 15 can contribute nothing toward this goal, since
a repetition of the descent f
2
b
1
is still outstanding, on account of parallelism (see
earlier; this must be given its due rst, if the artistic intention to connect the lead-
ing tone with the seventh is ever to be felt to be completely satised). Hence the
additional connecting passage b
1
f
2
across bars 15|16. Its upper voice shows an-
other arpeggiation b
1
d
2
f
2
, parallel to bars 9 and 10; but Bach, by unexpectedly
giving the rst three tones triple durational values (dotted quarter note three
eighth notes), involves a special intention, namely, the syncopated eect brought
about by this division within a bar of common time. And although the connection
is born of artistic necessity, the new phenomenon of syncopation is also fruitful
and decisive for the nal sonorities of the prelude, which thus comes to an end in,
as it were, a compositionally elaborated broad ritenuto.
6
But perhaps all the beau-
ties of voice leading just demonstrated are surpassed by the wonderful melody of
the lowest voice [of the right hand] in bars 1618. Here, as so often in our masters
treatment of content and part-writing, necessity is the mother of beauty. Because
the lower voice must move away from f
1
for a moment on the third quarter-note
of bar 16, when f
2
has already been reached, in order not to commit a doubling of
the seventh, it strives upward, in contrary motion to the upper voice, through f
1
to the octave g
1
, which it quite marvelously surrounds with the neighbor note a
,
(modal mixture), after which it nally sinks back through the seventh into the
third of the tonic chord in bar 18. The minor-mode mixture occurring in bars 16
and 17 makes the nal major all the more brilliant. The last eighth note of bar 17
brings the fulllment of all plans: the leading tone on top, as in bar 7; and beneath
it, proceeding from that octave that has been underscored so emphatically, the re-
peatedly lost and regained seventh makes its way to the third of the tonic!
That the prelude, with its Urlinie, voice leading, and harmony [Stufe], still de-
velops only the triad, the C major chordafter this demonstration, who would
still doubt it?
For the unfolding of his God-given powers, even eighteen bars were enough
for Bach.
Bachs Little Prelude No. 1 in C Major, BWV 924
143
5
Presumably the third voice rises by step, on each second and fourth beat, to double the second
voice, if a fourth voice moving in thirds below it is to supply the pitches that are added below the rst
two voices on these beats.
6
In einem gleichsam auskomponierten groen ritenutothis use of auskomponiert is noteworthy for
the resonance it lends the technical term, of something written out that might have been improvised by
a performer. The relationship of the ritenuto to the syncopations is not simple: leaving aside whatever
process of rhythmic normalization is applied to the score to derive the durations given in the graph of
the Urlinie, Schenkers main line of reasoning probably is that the dotted-quarter durations of the tran-
sitional b
1
and d
2
mediate between the quarter notes of bars 1415 and the ensuing half notes of f
2
, d
2
,
and b
1
in bars 1617, or indeed the syncopated rhythms of their occurrence in the nal version. But be-
cause the quarter notes in bars 1415 are features of the elaboration, the comparison of rates cannot be
straightforward: the upper line of bars 1415, in which the f
2
d
2
b
1
progression occurs, actually moves
in durations of two quarters tied over against the beatand this includes the passing tones; f
2
and d
2
themselves have durations of a whole note, making the rst progression essentially slower than the sec-
ond. Another thought in play here may be that the dotted-quarter durations of b
1
and d
2
in bars 1516
motivate the delay of d
2
by one eighth note and of b
1
by three eighth notes in bar 17, from which delays
increasing durations automatically result. Still obscure, on this reading, is the way the last half note of
bar 16 is shared by the pivotal f
2
and the passing tone e
,2
; at rst blush, e
,2
would seem to be essential to
the dotted-quarter story, regardless of whether this principally concerns three-eighth-note durations of
syncopations; but in that case consistency would require the passing tone c
2
in bar 17 to be part of the
story as well, and it, if counted, would introduce an acceleration just before the end. Schenker appears
not to have brought his impressions of this passage to full articulation in the terms he has chosen.
7
The twelve little preludes have a history in music pedagogy preceding their publication in the
old Gesamtausgabe (J. S. Bach, Werke, 36, ed. Ernst Naumann [Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hrtel, 1890]).
Most of them (nos. 1, 4 5, 811) were rst set down in the Clavierbchlein, a manuscript begun at
Cthen in 1720. The rest are found only in non-autograph sources, of which the most important is a
copy in the hand of Johann Peter Kellner (Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin, Mus. ms. Bach P. 804).
The following table shows that the alternative version of Prelude No. 1 appears later in the
Clavierbchlein, along with No. 4, with a similar title. The former may be a reworking of the Prelude
by Wilhelm Friedemann, at about the age of 15; the latter also may have been composed by him.
Prelude BWV Position, title in the Clavierbchlein
1 924 2 Preambulum 1
924a 26 Praeludium ex c

2 939
3 999
4 925 27 Praeludium ex d

5 926 4 Praeludium 2
6 940
7 941
8 927 8 Praeambulum
9 928 10 Praeludium
10 929 48 Menuet-Trio di J. S. Bach [included in a suite by G. H. Stlzel]
11 930 9 Praeambulum
12 942
In Bachs Clavierbchlein for his son Wilhelm Friedemann, this prelude oc-
curs in another form.
7
3 governs the rst four bars (octave descent); in bars 5 and
6 the Urlinie climbs rapidly up from 3 to 8

; and in the remaining measures the

neighbor-note motion 34 4 3 occurs twice over the dominant. Just this is al-
ready dierence enough. But if one also observes the stasis of the third e
2
in bars
1 and 2 (how misleading the descent to b
1
, when e
2
is recovered again immediately
after it!), if, further, one observes the suspensions given to the upper voice at once
in bars 35,
8
and {6} if one misses a pervading order in the fourth-progressions,
9
then one has every justication to declare this version with certainty to be an ear-
lier one, perhaps even a draft. To be sure, if we did not have the improved one,
we would none of us be in a position to imagine a better one for ourselves; but
this does not hinder us in drawing from the comparison of the two versions the
lesson that Bach himself has given us. How is it possible to commend emphati-
cally enough the opportunity that Bach has bestowed upon us by his innumer-
able arrangements of his own works, now as renements, now as transcriptions
for other instruments and the like. There could hardly be a worthier topic for a
composition teacher than an introduction into this workshop. Might it then pro-
vide incontrovertible proof that tones insist upon the best ordering in simul-
taneity and succession, just as people do!
tonwi lle 4
144
The authenticity of the Kellner preludes has never been disputed, though one of them, No. 3, was
originally composed for lute.
8
Schenkers criticism is not clear: the upper voices suspensions are prepared by suspensions in
the middle voice in bars 1 and 2, more or less as they are in the prelude as we know it. One dierence,
subtler than the text explains, is that the inner voice has a suspension every half-bar, starting in the
second half of bar 1, so an exchange of suspensions between the two highest voices is never established
as a norm.
9
Schenker has not said that bars 35 of the alternative version present a succession of fouth-
progressions in the bass that are similar to those of the principal version, at least at rst: (G)AB
c, ef

a, cde(f). Their lack of order would appear to consist in some or all of the following:
that they are not arranged registrally in a descending succession; that the third of them is not com-
pleted, and the incomplete third one is overlapped by another unbegun version of the rst one,
(G)ABc; that therefore they collectively bring about no motion, but instead return to the C triad,
after not unfolding this triad with their goal tones. After this, an octave progression from c to C, ar-
ticulated as a (tonicizing) fth-progression from c to F and a fourth-progression from f to C (the lat-
ter very similar to what occurs in bar 6 of the principal version), may also contribute to an impres-
sion of disorder.
In many respects the alternative version looks like a rearrangement of gures that are used se-
quentially in the principal version into dierent sequences, especially ones moving in opposite direc-
tions to their originals. Thus the second bar of the alternative version is parallel to the rst, but a third
lower (instead of a second higher), the bass of the dominant reached in bar 8 alternates Gg (instead
of gG, as in bar 7 of the principal version), and the guration over this bass rises (instead of falls).

From this prelude, we can learn how the Urlinie (given below) can even unify a
series of imitations in the most felicitous way.
The nucleus of the content is illustrated at a) and b) of the following gure:
In bars 14, a neighbor-note motion on the third is in eect, which, as is usu-
ally the case, goes along with the elaboration of the space of a fourth [Quartraum-
Auskomponierung].
1
(Because of the lower register of the bass, the third rst ap-
pears in bar 1 as e
1
.) While the neighbor-note motion merely decorates the 3 of
the Urlinie, the fourth-progression carries forward the basic subject, which of
course manifests motivic repetitions in the small, according to the intervallic suc-
cession of the fourth-progression.
The 2 is supported by II and V. In bars 59 a path from the fth to the third
of the dominant underlies the upper voice. The third, reached in bar 9, then car-
ries out a neighbor-note motion (as in bars 14), while the attendant fourth-
progression repeats the basic subject just as it did there. The last repetition of it
appears in bars 1315, although now veiled and accelerated by the run of sixteenth
notes. Noteworthy is the eect of the passing seventh f in bar 12, which connects
the two repetitions. While the Urlinie has to be set in a lower register in the graph
of the Urlinie, for the sake of the fourth-progression in bars 912 and the related
one in bars 13 and 14, gure 1c shows how the fourth-progressions of the basic
idea actually strive upward.
2
Independent of neighbor-note motion or fourth-
progressions, the motive also is in eect in bars 4 8, but suitably altered.
145
Bachs Little Prelude No. 2 in C Major, BWV 939
J. S. Bach: Zwlf kleine Prludien, Nr. 2 {Tonwille 4, p. 7}
t r a ns l at e d b y j os e p h dub i e l
1
The developments described in this paragraph are not shown in any graph, being subsequent to
Figs. 1a and 1b but (as the next sentence indicates) prior to the graph of the Urlinie. The neighbor-
note motion is e
2
f
2
e
2
, of course (although the register of the initial e is about to change), and the
fourth-progression is the one shown in the rst segment of Fig. 1c; the usual contrapuntal alignment
of two such motionswhich we see in the preceding analysis also, as well as in the analysis of Prelude
No. 4 in Tonwille 5 (p. 6/i, p. 178)is
ef f e
. In the last sentence of this paragraph, and again in the
last sentence of the essay, the motive referred to is the one of eighth-note arpeggiation within the
bar; the fourth-progression is the basic subject.
gabc
2
It is remarkable that the domain of truth in which the fourth-progressions strive upward
that is, the notional truth of Fig. 1c, in which the three fourth-progressions form a linear continuity,
remarkably independent of the Urlinieis not identied as closely as it might be with the state of
aairs in the score, in which the second progression and the beginning of the third do occur in the
register of Fig. 1c, d
2
e
2
f
2
g
2
and g
2
a
2
; also that the registral break in the middle of the last fourth-
progression, from g
2
a
2
to b
1
c
2
, is not seen to demand discussion at least as much as any registral
break between progressions (not even when the break brings about a nal registral convergence be-
tween the fourth-progression and the Urlinie). Evidently the gures use registral position primarily
to convey ideas about something other than register as such: a claim about continuity within and be-
tween fourth-progressions in Fig. 1c, a claim about the Urlinies priority over the fourth-progressions
in the graph of the Urlinie.
The assumption of keys in bars 57 and 911, as shown in the graph of the Ur-
linie (p. 147), rests on the necessity of conceding a certain amount of self-suciency
to the parts of even a small form. If one notes, however, that the cadences in both
places lack any further conrmation, then one is inclined to hear nothing more
than richly developed harmonic degrees of the tonic key, as the following gure
shows:
This picture indeed oers an even deeper insight into the story; specically, it
conrms the overwhelming signicance of 4 in bar 12.
2
As to particulars:
The eighth-note upbeat and the cadential constructions are intrinsic to an
allemande. Although it is doubtless that they originally copied certain dance
characteristics, they maintain in the art form a special, purely artistic existence.
Thus, the upbeat eighth note does not merely jut out like some sort of useless ap-
pendage to the bar, rather the content is continuously saturated with this upbeat,
as I have maintained in the graph of the Urlinie.
The motivic life is governed by arpeggiations, and by the gure that likewise
appears in bar 1, on the second beat.
The arpeggiations are also used in the right hand, where, concealing their ori-
gin better than in the left hand (in the lower register), they make an exquisite im-
pression. The course of the arpeggiations in bars 1215 takes shape in the most
secret way. If one understands how the eighth-note arpeggiations at the down-
beat of bar 12 (see the graph of the Urlinie) increase to arpeggiations in quarter
notes and half notes in bars 13, 14, and 15, then one grasps why this very place
breathes forth such expression: it is precisely the intimacy of a profound union,
whose secret almost appears to be turned more toward the notes than toward us!
3
Adding to the eect is the linking of these bars by the motive that is also depicted
in the graph of the Urlinie.
4
The arpeggiation of the cadential construction, how-
ever, derives from the normal arpeggiation technique that just rolls the chord up
and down, as shown by the slurs in the graph of the Urlinie. (In J. S. Bachs alle-
mandes, one more commonly nds neighbor-note motions embellishing the
third, or elaborations of the interval of a fourth, likewise to extend the nal chord
in the manner of a ritenuto.)
Now to the other motive. Although it proceeds as three sixteenths ,
it nevertheless takes the place of only an eighth-note. As such, it is generally as-
sociated with the eighth-note upbeat (see earlier): in bars 1 and 8 at each second
and fourth beat; in bars 24 and 1113 at each fourth beat (how signicantly the
parallelisms of these bars serve the form!). In addition, its rising or falling often
pregures the course of things to come. Compare the rising version: in bar 1 g
1

a
1
, in bars 24 d
2
e
2
f
2
, across bars 4|5 a
1
b
1
etc; and the falling: c
2
b
1
across bars
1|2. Where, however, both versions follow one another immediately, as in bar 2,
the falling one may be interpreted as a neighbor note (see the graph of the Ur-
linie), in order to avoid a note repetition. Hence at the second and third beats it
146
The Allemande from Handels Suite in G Major, HWV 441
1
Hndel: Allemande (XIV. Suite) {Tonwille 4, pp. 89}
t r a ns l at e d b y j os e p h lub b e n
1
The Allemande is part of a suite rst published by John Walsh as no. 8 of a second volume of
Suites de pices pour le clavecin (London, 1733); Walshs ordering was taken over by the German Handel
Society for their collected edition of Handels works, edited by Friedrich Chrysander. Schenker owned
a copy of Chrysanders edition of the suites, but took the number XIV from Louis Khlers edition of
Handels keyboard music (published by C. F. Peters), in which the suites in volume 2 were reordered.
2
Schenker made some changes to the Urlinie-Tafel in his personal copy of Tonwille 4 and added a
page of sketches for a graphic analysis. Instead of viewing 4 in bar 12 as a neighbor to 3, he now took
the primary tone of the Urlinie to be the d
2
(5) in bar 3, preceded by an initial ascent, with e
2
in bar 11
providing the large-scale neighbor-note construction for the piece (OC, Books and Pamphlets, No. 11).
3
In the next essay, Schenker draws a parallel between the arpeggiations here and in bars 2123 of
C. P. E. Bachs Allegro.
4
Schenker is referring to the rising fourth followed by a falling third.
is better to hear the succession as b
1
c
2
a
1
than as b
1
b
1
a
1
. The same applies to
bar 5, where four falling versions follow one after another. In bar 6 the Urlinie
runs straight through the rising version.
In bar 9, the upper voice essentially describes a turn around b (see Fig. 1),
while the harmonies complete the modulation to E minor. This is very dicult
to recognize at rst glance, because in bars 1011 an ascending register transfer
takes place (as a parallelism to bars 34), by which means the inner voice is raised
at the second and third quarter of bar 9. In bar 10, it is advantageous to interpret
the outer-voice structure, contrary to appearances, as a succession of thirds (see
the graph of the Urlinie), so that the lowest notes merely represent inessential
lower thirds to the actual bass. They serve to avoid fths, and are in accord with
the leaps of a third in the bass in bars 9 and 11.
The Allemande from Handels Suite in G Major, HWV 441
147
The simplicity and crystalline clarity of this little piece are shown with utmost
transparency by the Urlinie, the voice-leading, and the deployment of thematic
material. The piece also allows us, in spite of its brevity and unpretentiousness,
to view a deployment of musical materials that can be described as nothing short
of ingenious. Even in these sixteen bars, the genius of Emanuel Bach does not be-
tray its principles.
In bars 12, the outer voices proceed, in accordance with the Urlinie, in fths
and not in thirds, as it might appear from the diminution. The arpeggiation of a
third is marked in the graph of the Urlinie (p. 149) with the sign for a broken chord.
Otherwise, the motive is nothing more than the simplest elaboration of a third
[Terzsauskomponierung]. But, as early as bar 2, the motive has been changed so
much, on account of a rhythmic delay, that the last eighth of the bar contains two
sixteenth notes whose task it is to introduce the sixteenth-note motion in the fol-
lowing bar. Bar 3 is lled by a two-fold deployment of the motive in rhythmic
diminution (provided here with appoggiaturas), so that, in replying to the mo-
tivic parallelism between bars 1 and 2, it takes care of the motivic parallelism
within itself. In the graph of the Urlinie, the dotted line in the bass indicates an
arpeggiation whose unity further promotes the conceptual unity of the rst four
bars considered together, in spite of the intervening cadential harmonies.
Compared to bars 14, bars 58 introduce a considerable number of changes.
Now, the third between the outer voices makes an exact duplication of bar 1 im-
possible. Bach is thus obliged to give up the elaboration of the space of a third, and
retain merely this intervallic span and the eighth-note motion. These are, at any
rate, sucient to give the illusion, at rst sight, of an exact repetition of bar 1, all the
more so as Bach reproduces the rhythmic shift from bar 2 in bar 6. In bar 7 the ap-
poggiatura (cf. bar 3) appears only with the second group of sixteenth notes, while
the diminution in the rst beat replies to the interval of a fourth in the rst beat of
bar 4. This four-bar group, too, is held together by a secret arpeggiation in the bass.
148
C. P. E. Bachs Allegro in G Major
Ph. Em. Bach: Kurze und leichte Klavierstcke mit vernderten Reprisen
1
(1766), Nr. 1, Allegro {Tonwille 4, pp. 1011}
t r a ns l at e d b y wi l l i a m dr a b k i n
1
[S]A reprint of this short work, with commentary by Otto Vrieslander, was published by Uni-
versal-Edition (No. 5295). I cannot recommend it warmly enough to musicians, young and old; de-
scribed by the master as for beginners, it provides an introduction to the subject of diminution it-
self, by way of the art of the varied repeat. Anyone who knows that diminution is not only the alpha
and omega of composition but also the only key to its correct interpretation, and who understands
that the downfall of the art of composing results from the undervaluing of the fantasy of diminution,
which has made us all beginners again, will truly appreciate being pointed toward Emanuel Bachs
instructive little piece.
[Two sets of Kurze und leichte Klavierstcke mit vernderten Reprisen were published by Bach in
1766 and 1768. The rst set, of which this Allegro in G major is the opening piece, was assigned to item
113 in Alfred Wotquennes 1913 thematic catalogue of Bachs works; in Eugene Helms more recent
Thematic Catalogue of the Works of Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1989), the Allegro is catalogued separately, as item 193.
A lifelong friend (and briey a pupil) of Schenkers, Otto Vrieslander (18701950) was a song
composer, pianist, and C. P. E. Bach scholar. His edition of these twenty-two pieces with commentary
appeared in 1914, in celebration of the two-hundredth anniversary of Bachs birth, with a dedication
to Schenker. It is described on the outer cover as an Erluterungsausgabe, and thus forms part of the
series that includes Schenkers editions of Bachs Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue and four late Beetho-
ven piano sonatasa series that is generally associated with Schenker alone. Vrieslanders commen-
tary runs to almost ten pages and includes a historical introduction to the music; a set of analytical
notes on each piece (der kompositionelle Inhalt); a short section on ornamentation, which quotes from
Bachs Versuch and refers the reader to Schenkers Ein Beitrag zur Ornamentik; and a detailed discus-
sion of Bachs ngerings, together with remarks on related textual problems.
Universal reissued these works in 1952, with Vrieslanders commentary replaced by a textual re-
port on the handwritten sources by Oswald Jonas, another pupil of Schenkers. Jonas, declaring Vries-
landers commentary obsolete because it predated the rst decisive steps in the development of his
[Schenkers] highly original theory, also wrote an entirely new analytical commentary on the music.
His preface reprints Schenkers graph of the Urlinie from Tonwille 4, together with a new reduction
of the voice-leading, in which he uses a more modern graphic notation and reads the descent of the
Urlinie from 3, not 5.
In Vrieslanders edition, the bars in the rst statements of sections are conventionally numbered,
18 and 916; for the varied reprises the same numbers are used, this time placed in square brackets.
Schenker follows this numbering.]
The repetitionprecisely the varied reprise, bars [1] to [8]leaves the
movement of the Urlinie intact, so that the concept of variation is simply applied
to the diminution. Note, however, the ascending register transfer and the use of
rhythmic shift also in bars [1] and [5], which in this way point out their close in-
ternal relationship. {11}
Bar [8] introduces into the bass an arpeggiation (see the graph of the Urlinie)
in which three eighth notes are joined together by a single slur. This articulation
will be crucial for bars 916. The Urlinie remains for a while on 5, moves in bar
13 up to 6

as a neighbor note, and returns to 5 in bar 14; the remaining tones of

the Urlinie follow in bars 1516.
In bar 12, the diminution (see the graph of the Urlinie) also lets an arpeggia-
tion in the right hand slip in, as if by chance (compare bars 1214 of Handels
Allemande, discussed in the preceding essay), to which the arpeggiation in bar 13
and the more extended arpeggiation in bars 14 15 owe their existence. That such
relationship contribute to the cohesiveness is something that our senses can eas-
ily conrm. But greater cohesion means more drive, hence greater beauty. The
diminution in bars 1516 is an exact repetition of that in bars 78.
It is not necessary to give a full account of the new features of the diminution
that surface in the repeat of bars 916. The reader is referred here to Vrieslanders
commentary, on pp. 34 5.
2
149
2
Vrieslanders remarks mainly concern the discrepant slurrings in the rst beat of bars [7] and
[15]: I would also like to mention the almost exact duplication of bars [78] at [1516]. The fact that
the four sixteenth notes in bar [15] are joined by a single slur, instead of two slurs as in bar [7], is a
sign of the masters sense of renement as applied to this very passage. The reason for the dierent
slurring is that the four sixteenths represent a greater mass and thus graphically express the full ca-
dence at the close; by contrast the two-times-two sixteenths, as a divided mass, express a half cadence.
C.P.E. Bachs Allegro in G Major
First Movement (Prestissimo)
Sonata Form:
First Subject: antecedent bars 18
consequent and modulation bars 920
Second Subject bars 2128
Development bars 2941
Recapitulation bars 5269
A sonata movement born of synthesis and destined for eternal life. I shall attempt
here to distinguish and highlight its wonderful powers, even though these are
mutually interdependent and, as is the case with all organic creations, work to-
gether in harmony.
Above all, the principal witness, the Urlinie (p. 151): in the exposition it moves
downward in four sections, whose apex tones likewise represent a stepwise de-
scending series, gfed. The rst two sections each elaborate the interval of a
third; the last two, separated from them by a change of key, elaborate a fth, so
that the nal tone of the last section is an octave lower than the apex tone of the
rst. The development, bars 2951, starts from the apex tone of the nal section,
d (bar 29); it is raised to d

in bar 33, and so leads to e in the following bar. From

this tone, the linenow in E minoragain descends an octave, and thus creates
a parallelism with the octave descent in the exposition. Common to both octave-
progressions is the division into fourth plus fth, g
2
d
2
: d
2
g
1
in the exposition
and e
3
b
2
: b
2
e
2
in the development. In the retransition, which begins in bar 44,
the 1 in E minor is taken up as a 3 in C major; the line then moves up, through 4
in bar 50, to the start of the recapitulation on 5. In the recapitulation (bars 52)
the line proceeds in two sections, 5 2 and 5 1 .
What this means for the form of the movement is that the consequent phrase
of the rst subject appears to have grown together with the modulation passage
and the second subject (bars 928). The force of the 6

in bar 9 upon the 5 in bar

21 is felt so strongly that one seems to hear them as an unbroken event. And pre-
cisely this is proof of the immeasurable worth of the synthesis. Thus, what we
confront here is not merely a primitive state of sonata form, so to speak, whose
sections are still in bud; on the contrary, the nature of the succession of musical
ideas is quite sucient for us to recognize it in terms of sonata form, insofar as
the exposition of a sonata movement in essence stipulates no more than a move
to a new key, with the development section being responsible for the return to the
original key. Indeed Beethoven, even in his last creative period, for example, in
the sonatas Op. 101 and Op. 109, composed just as compactly as Emanuel Bach
does here, although he was capable of developing the form so luxuriantly in so
many of his earlier works.
2
{13}
Of course Emanuel Bach did, on the other hand, also ensure that there was
sucient contrast in the principal sections; it is just that the technique by which
he achieved this is equally well concealed as that by which he used the Urlinie as
a means of connection. Notice how he lets the Urlinie speed up only at certain
places: in bars 68, 14 16 and 2628, at the end of the antecedent, the modula-
tion and the second subject, respectively; and also at the end of each section of
the development, in bars 34 36, 4244 and bars 5051. As these accelerations co-
incide with half cadences, as in bars 8, 16, 36 and 51, or full cadences, as in bars 28
and 44, one understands their dual rule in joining together and keeping apart.
150
C. P. E. Bachs Keyboard Sonata in C Major
Ph. Em. Bach: Sonate C-Dur (1779) (U. E. Nr. 548)
1
{Tonwille 4, pp. 1214}
t r a ns l at e d b y wi l l i a m dr a b k i n
1
The sonata from which this Prestissimo is taken is the rst piece in Bachs Sechs Clavier-Sonaten
fr Kenner und Liebhaber (1779), a publication that inaugurated a series of ve volumes of keyboard
music for connoisseurs and amateurs. Schenker, too, gave it pride of place, as the rst work in his
two-volume edition of keyboard works by Bach, referred to in the title of this essay. It appears in
Wotquennes catalogue as item 55/1, and in Helms as item 244.
2
The rst movements of these works, which are in sonata form, and about which Schenker had
written in detail in the Erluterungsausgaben of the late Beethoven piano sonatas, are respectively 102
and 99 bars long.
C.P.E. Bachs Keyboard Sonata in C Major
151
Finally, we see that the content of bars 2128 returns both in the development
(bars 3744) and at the end of the reprise (bars 6269). For this reason, we must
grant it the status of an independent section, in spite of its being so closely bound
to the previous material. Is there any other reason why one should not speak of
bars 2128 as a second subject?
And now to the initiating germ [Urzelle], the smallest element: the neighbor-
note relation of bar 2 to bar 1. All that grows from it, as the graph of the Urlinie
shows by means of small slurs, signies throughout the sonata not what conven-
tional music theory understands as thematic development, i.e. not merely a sur-
face manifestation of counterpoint, but rather an inner principle of construc-
tion,
3
on whose will not even a genius has inuence. It is the rst breath, the soul,
of the entiretybut who can say how the soul is created?
It is only indirectly through the special embryonic construction that the suc-
cession of principal harmonies is introduced; and if the smallest element func-
tions within the Urlinie conjointly with the voice-leading and the principal har-
monies, then the piece lives in a necessity that takes second place to no organic
creation.
The following particulars are also worth noting. In bar 6, e
2
is supported by
the return of I, thereby emphatically conrming the unity of 5 4 3 as an elabora-
tion of the space of a third, which serves the 5 that is paramount. The succession
of harmonies in the second section of the Urlinie is basically IVV, with II in-
serted merely so that the embryonic construction of the neighbor note appears to
be fullled here, too. The fth-progression in the lower voice in bars 17 plays an
important role in the synthesis; despite the individual harmonies, it expresses the
principal harmonic progression, IIV. In bars 9, the outer parts present what is
basically an unbroken succession of thirds: one need only place the c
1
in the upper
voice from bar 14 above the a in the lower voice in bar 13 to be convinced of this;
see the dotted line in the graph of the Urlinie. In addition, the linear progression
of a the diminished fth, c
[1]
f

, in the lower voice of bars 914 comes to the fore

as a response to the fth-progression in bars 17. The ascending register transfer
in these bars ought to be regarded as the distinctive feature of this section, even
though the counterpoint, for reasons having to do entirely with keyboard tech-
nique, sinks in bars 1416 to the octave below middle C; for this reason, 4 3 2 are
repeated in the high register in bars 1920. (I would note further that the devel-
opment section also links up with the same high register, in bars 2936, thus es-
tablishing a new feature of parallelism serving the whole.) Thus, the fourth sec-
tion of the exposition, bars 21, is set an octave lower than the third, whereby the
bass succession dcb across bars 20|21 specically acts as an intermediary.
Bars 21 is the rst passage in which the bass rises: rst to the neighbor note
e in bar 24, then at the cadence in bar 27 to d (V). In bars 2526 the embryonic
3
[S]See Tonwille 2, pp. 7, 17, 25 and 36/i, pp. 55, 64, 72 and 82; Tonwille 3, pp. 3, 17/ i, pp. 99, 112,
etc. [These are all references to the mysterious forces that lie beneath the surface of sonata movements
by Mozart, Beethoven and Haydn, which Schenker refers to with expressions such as creatio ex ni-
hilo or secret relationships or uses metaphors that seek to express the ineable (in the rmament,
the diatonic stars of the Urlinie, so to speak). Their appearance here is further conrmation of his
high regard for Emanuel Bach, whom he does not hesitate to place beside the three acknowledged
masters.]
construction, with 6

as neighbor note, is especially eective. In bar 27, e

2
substi-
tutes for c
2
; {14} the c
3
sounds all the more beautiful when it is heard later, in bar
30. The conclusion of bars 2932 with I in bar 32 eects their cohesiveness as a
unied group headed by d
3
. The basic progression of the lower voice in bars 29
36 thus reads gab (bars 32, 35, 36); it replies to the bass line in bar 27 while at
the same time presupposes the [identical] line in bar 43. What a magnicent
chain of concealed causalities!
Both the voice-leading and the harmonic relationships in bars 44 51 present
some problems. The 1 in E minor is reinterpreted as 3 in C major (see above); this
allows the

IV
7
reached by deceptive cadence to be reinterpreted as I
,7
in C major.
Fig. 1 shows the origins of the voice-leading:
4
Note the fourth-progression, c
2
f
2
in the upper voice, and the consecutive
fths between the upper and inner voices, which must be avoided by 56 ex-
changes. In the path from e
1
(bar 44) up to f
2
(bar 55), the c
2
in bar 44, which in
reality is derived merely from the b
1
gained by substitution, signies a substantial
shortcut. It is more important, however, that the bass in these bars apparently in-
tends to parallel those immediately preceding, bars 4143. And if B
,
A here in
bars 44 45 is set against A

A in bars 4142, and if the expansion in bars 4550

set in contrast to the quick progression of the bass notes in bar 43, then it is pre-
cisely from these features that we know that the retransition has arrived.
Finally, some remarks on the diminution and the surface deployment of mo-
tives. Our piece is to be seen as an absolutely classic example of the techniques of
arpeggiation, in which our master is so superior to us. If one claries for oneself
the ups and downs of the arpeggiations by a notation such as \/ /\ \/\ /\/, and notes
in the margins the way in which the changes of direction occur, one will be fur-
ther rewarded with a highly instructive contribution toward understanding the
arpeggiation technique that we owe the masters in the realization of their works.
Furthermore, one should determine the highest points in the arpeggiations and
convince oneself, by comparing them with the Urlinie, that they are by no means
always the bearers of the line. (One can see this straightaway, at bars 14, etc.)
The experiences thus gained are also valuable for orchestral compositions, inso-
far as the actual line there, too, is better covered by long-held notes, as is shown
by the practice of the great masters.
tonwi lle 4
152
4
Schenkers text and Fig. 1, and also the graph of the Urlinie, conate the harmonies in bars 41
and 44. The former, built on A

, is a true

IV
7
, while that in bar 44 has B
,
in the bass and can there-
fore be reckoned in E minor only as an inverted VI
, 7
. In the ensuing paragraph, his analysis takes full
advantage of the source of his labeling error, namely, the enharmonic equivalence of A

and B
,
.
First Movement (Allegro con brio)
[Schenkers [actual
Sonata Form: numbering] numbering]
1
First Subject bars 116
Modulation bars 1636
Second Subject Group bars 3665 [3667]
Development bars 66101 [68103]
Recapitulation bars 10268 [104 70]
Bars 1. The rst subject is in two parts; the consequent phrase repeats the ante-
cedent almost exactly, apart from the triplet accompaniment. The Urlinie (p. 154)
moves from 5 to 1 . In the arpeggiation of the upbeat, which leads up to the 5 in
bar 1, the motivic life of this movement is also kindled: the two thirds, c
2
e
2
and
e
2
g
2
, are in the course of events answered by b
1
d
2
and d
2
f
2
: by this, the 4 of the
Urlinie is nally gained in bar 5. Still further in the service of the 3 and the 2, we
see the arpeggiation of a third as a creator of motives (downwards arpeggiation).
That the quarter-note upbeat contributes to the synthesis also in the rhythmic
domain can easily be deduced from the beginnings of the motives. It is all the
more striking, however, when the Urlinie tones are freed of this rhythmic bond
and at all times, and in all sections of the piece, produce a stronger progression
in half-notes; in this way they stand out actually as Urlinie tonesa particular
feature of this very sonata!
To prevent the antecedent and consequent from separating from one another,
on account of the rests in bar 8, Haydn begins the left-hand triplet accompaniment
(again with g
1
at the top) right from the downbeat of the bar. From this point on,
the bass preserves the eight-bar construction in its own domain (see bars 815),
2
while the upper voice develops the upbeat motives further, as far as bar 20, at which
point the upper and lower voices nally nd themselves in the same rhythm.
Bars 16. The neighbor-note motion applied to the third above the tonic, to-
gether with the continued development of the upbeat quarter note, results in the
step of a second (e
2
f
2
) for the rst time across bars 16|17; this now governs the
diminution. In bars 2025, steps of a second lead from c
2
up to b
2
; this amounts
to the same thing as the stepwise descent from c
3
to b
2
. In these bars, too, the
modulation takes place.
Moreover, the triplet accompaniment returns in bar 20, thus creating a paral-
lelism with the rst subject, which was similarly made up of bars without triplets
(the antecedent phrase) followed by bars with triplets (the consequent). It is pre-
cisely this circumstance that determined our excluding bars 1619 from the mod-
ulation section, quite apart from the fact that in these bars the third, e
[2]
, appears in
the foreground, in contrast to the fth, g
2
, which had previously governed the rst
subject, so that e
2
f
2
in bar 23 can nally be played out against the earlier e
2
f
2
.
Bars 2732 present the Urlinie tones as falling half notes, as in bars 56. The 2
is supported by II and V and provides the half cadence. The arpeggiations in bars
32 and 33 are related not merely to the upbeat arpeggiation but also point, with the
apex-note d
3
, to the immediate futuresee the d
3
{16} in bar 41a connection
that agrees with the law of obligatory register (see Tonwille 1, p. 39/i, p. 35).
153
Haydns Sonata in C Major, Hoboken XVI:35
Haydn: Sonate C-Dur (U. E. Nr. 1) {Tonwille 4, pp. 1518}
t r a ns l at e d b y wi l l i a m dr a b k i n
1
The copy of Haydns sonatas that Schenker worked from was published not by Universal, but by
C. F. Peters (3 vols., edition nos. 642325), with editing and ngering by Louis Khler and F. A.
Roitzsch. Neither of these, nor any other edition of which I am aware, supports Schenkers omission
of the repetitions within bars 5154. In eect, Schenker has analysed the movement without bars 51
and 53: the descent in bars 5154 is treated as a simple decoration of bars 4647, without the expan-
sion. As a result, his bar numbering from this point onwardin the text, in the graph of the Urlinie,
and in Figs. 1 and 2will not correspond to that given in any modern edition of the sonata.
To facilitate comparison with the graph of the Urlinie, Schenkers bar numbering will be re-
tained; but the reader who follows his essay alongside a score of the sonata should subtract 2 from the
bar numbering after bar 54 in the score.
2
That is, the eight-bar construction is shifted a bar forward, 815 instead of 916.
tonwi lle 4
154
Bars 36. The linking of two sections of the Urlinie, 4 2 in the modulation and
5 1 in the second subject, signies the inevitability that the two sections indeed
appear as a unied structure.
3
The situation is the same in the sonata by Philipp
Emanuel Bach that I discussed earlier, except of course that here the 5 is not ap-
proached by leap, but rather that the path from 1 to 5 is laid out in step motion.
(When Bach introduces 5 immediately after 1 , he is making an interval substitu-
tion in the same chord.) The dotted lines in the graph of the Urlinie show how,
according to the principles of free counterpoint, the voices move from an oblig-
atory relationship to one in which they reinforce each other by doubling, and vice
versa. In bars 44 45, the cadential harmonies appear in the one-line octave (a
high-register bass); this is the reason that the cadence, despite being complete,
requires a continuation. One should understand this upward transfer of register
as the remedy for the multiplicity of perfect cadences (see Tonwille 3, pp. 4).
4
The graph of the Urlinie reveals the masters intention in this very matter, as he
did not return to the lower octave of the bass until bars 5760. One now under-
stands at this point, nally, why the beginning of the second subject uses the tonic
in rst inversion: as the rst inversion tightens the connection between modula-
tion and second subject, so, on the other hand, it serves the continuation, in so
far as introduces the bass progression
B
I
C
II
DG
VI
, which is traversed no fewer than
four times between here and bar 60something that could only have been made
possible by a change of register.
Accordingly, one cannot in fact regard the upper voice in bars 4548 as tones
of the Urlinie: rather, the key to these bars is to be found only in the cadences [of
the second subject group]. For 3 2 1 in bars 4850, the bass remains in the one-
line octave, as in bars 44 and 45. For 4 3 2 in bar 57, however, which already ap-
pear an octave lower, the bass likewise distances itself [from the higher octave]
and thus arrives in its pre-determined register. Particularly at the summing-up, 5
4 3 2 1 , in bars 5860, the bass for its part also sums things up by reintroducing
B in the low register for the rst time since bar 41. What intelligence and care has
been exercised in forging a unied structure spanning many points of closure!
This result is conrmed by the fact that neither in bar 48 nor in bar 53 can one
speak of a perfect cadence or a 1 that completes the fth-progression of the Ur-
linie (in spite of the e
3
at the top, which seems to press forward as a 6

), and nally
3
At this stage in the development of his theories, Schenker reckons the Urlinie tones against the
prevailing foreground harmony; thus 4 2 (f
2
e
2
d
2
in C major) is linked to 5 1 (d
3
c
3
b
2
a
2
g
2
in G major) by the commonality of D. This link is, however, more conceptual than concrete: in the
actual graph of the Urlinie it is not D, but the C in bar 15 (c
2
as 1 in C, and as 4 in G), that provides
the link between the two sections.
4
A reference to Schenkers other Haydn sonata essay: the opening bars of the rst movement of
the Sonata in E
,
, Hoboken XVI:52, is an obvious place to discuss the organization of series of perfect
cadences in dierent registers. See p. 99 in this volume.
by the fact that, in this same group of bars [i.e., bars 5860], a clear progression
always projects the Urlinie tones, and only these tones.
Bars 66. The development section is introduced by the content of bars 56.
There is a modulation to A minor, with what appears to be a deceptive cadence
onto VI. But since this chord marks the start of a repetition of bars 18, one be-
gins to wonder whether the diversion to an F major chord signied a deceptive
cadence or in fact F major understood as a key in its own right, the subdominant,
which would have had to introduce the recapitulation.
5
The solution to this
problem is not provided until after bar 77: if we encounter A minor unmistakably
here, then it is impossible to speak of another foreign key between the groups of
bars 6669 and 77, which both suggest A minor. Viewed in terms of A minor,
then, the apparent VI can be evaluated only as a neighbor-note harmony applied
to the dominant; and we enjoy the profound sense of humor with which the mas-
ter is able to prepare us for such surprises.
In bars 7795 the dominant, which had been interrupted by the insertion of
the neighbor note, presses on, and the voice-leading features of the most daring
sort are placed in the service of this extensive development. Bars 7781 {17} are
governed by the fourth-progression in the upper voice, e
2
a
2
, which reduces the
lower-voice leaps of a fth and a third to the status of leaping passing tones (see
Kontrapunkt ii, pp. 177/pp. 18182.) (The threat of consecutive fths and octaves
here is averted by the insertion of leaps of a third.)
6
At a
2
in bar 81, we arrive at
the fourth above the dominant; the line continues upwards to the sixth, c
3
, in bar
82 where, on the third bar, the octave, e
3
, is gained. At this point, an
8
6
4
chord is
achieved, with
6
4 understood as a suspension construction; this construction was
required for the resolution of the neighbor-note chord on F, in order to remove
the threat of consecutive fths that would have otherwise resulted from the
5
3 in
bar 83:
In bar 84, the seventh is incorporated into the dominant. Fig. 1 claries the
artistic treatment of the passing harmonies:
Fig. 2a shows the passing harmonies in the form of
6
4 chords, whose transi-
tional value amounts to the same as that of
6
3 chords (see Kontrapunkt ii, pp. 185/
p. 189). In this example, however, the lowering of the seventh (here the goal of the
movement) by an octave would have resulted in unpleasant progressions in aug-
mented seconds in bars 8687 and 9293; moreover, a diminished fourth in bar
93 would have arisen, which would have made the elaboration much less viable.
Thus, in Fig. 2b, the
6
4 chord in bar 87 leads to a
6
3 chord, which is then retained in
the next bars. Fig. 2c shows the passing chords each embellished by two suspen-
sions. (The ascending form of the suspension is something which Haydn was
motivated to provide by the diminution in bar 83, which makes use of stepwise
ascentalbeit as a neighbor note.) Finally, Fig. 2d shows a still richer use of chro-
matic passing notes, as these prove necessary for the particular construction of
the seventh chords. The lower voice is transferred {18} to the lower octave in bar
89 in order to prepare the bass note e in bar 92, which completes the octave e
1
e
2
spanning bars 8392: it claries the unity of all that is transitional in bars 8094
in the most meaningful way. In bar 95, the 1 of the key of A minor nally appears
above the I, and yet the upper voice continues to press downward: this point
marks the start of the retransition to C major. The left-hand arpeggiation in bar
97 represents a parallelism with the one in bars 9091.
Haydns Sonata in C Major, Hoboken XVI: 35
155
5
Schenker may be thinking of a more famous example of a piano sonata in C major whose rst-
movement recapitulation begins in F, namely Mozarts K. 545. This movement is the subject of the
very next essay in Tonwille 4.
6
This parenthetical remark must be understood not as a supplementary comment but as an al-
ternative reading of the bass line. The fourth beat of each bar in this passage is, in Schenkers new ter-
minology, a leaping passing tone.
First Movement (Allegro)
Sonata Form:
First Subject bars 112
Second Subject bars 1328
Development bars 2941
Recapitulation bars 4273
In bars 14, the graph of the Urlinie (p. 157) traces the path of two elaborations of
a third, 31 in the inner voice and 53 in the upper voice, while the Urlinie remains
rmly xed on 5. The arpeggiations of a third in bars 1 and 2 (see the graph) are
beautifully disguised by the diminution.
1
In bar 2, the diminution sidesteps con-
secutive octaves, which have to be circumvented in the graph by leaving the root
stationary.
2
In bar 5, 6

enters as an apparent neighbor-note between two 5s, but in

fact its task is to lead the descending fth-progression to the 2 in bar 9.
3
When the dominant chord is reinterpreted as I of G major, 2 becomes 5 in the
new key. The bass motive in bar 13 may well have been motivated by 2 (1 7) in bars
911; we later nd the motive in the inner voice in bar 14, and nally in the Ur-
linie, which continues the line all the way to 1 . The progression to the neighbor-
ing harmony in bars 14 17 also determines the bass motion of the passing pro-
gressions in bars 1821, which in this way organically achieve a 108 exchange
(see Freier Satz);
4
what is even more important as far as synthesis is concerned,
however, is the use of the upper neighbor c in the bass as a means of signaling the
general ascending motion (compare Kontrapunkt ii, p. 74/p. 74). Moreover, the
bass progression bc is repeated (over passing tones) in bars 1822, so that as a
summation of all the motions of the bass in bars 14 21, nothing more than bc
remains, as contrary motion to 5 4 of the Urlinie!
The piece proceeds through G minor, achieved by modal mixture in bars 29
31, to D minor in bars 3135. From there it moves in the same manner to A minor
in bars 35376

5 4 3 is expressed by the diminution in the left handwhile

an augmentation of the same succession of tones moves simultaneously by mod-
ulation to F major. The voice exchange in bar 41see the crossing slurs in the
graphis astonishingly bold, a brilliant stroke, as it were, preceding the even
more brilliant stroke of the recapitulation, which places at its head the key of the
subdominant!
156
Mozarts Sonata in C Major, K. 545
Mozart: Sonate C-Dur (Kch. V. Nr. 545, U. E. Nr. 11) {Tonwille 4, p. 19}
t r a ns l at e d b y j os e p h lub b e n
1
Die Terzbrechungen in T. 2 und 3, clearly a misprint.
2
Schenker is referring to the octaves that would have occurred had the graph shown the lowest
line of the left hand moving from d
1
to c
1
. That is, he views the neighbor-note in the bass in bars 1
2 as of a lower order than the third progression e
2
d
2
c
2
in the right hand. Schenker later revised his
analysis of the voice-leading of bars 12. A graph of the opening bars of the sonata in Der freie Satz
(Fig. 124/5a) shows neighbor-note motion in both the bass (c
1
d
2
c
1
) and the upper voice (c
2
b
1

c
2
); the third-progression and the stationary root have disappeared.
3
Schenker never completely resolved the apparent conict between the upper-voice a
2
as neigh-
bor to g
2
and as primary tone of a fth-progression to d
2
. In his personal copy of Tonwille 4 (Oster
Collection, Books and Pamphlets 11), he marked the a
2
as a large-scale neighbor between the g
2
s in
bars 1 and 12 and, on an extra leaf of music manuscript paper, made a short musical sketch that draws
a parallel between this neighbor note and the a
2
that stands for the melodic line at the recapitula-
tion in F major:
(This reading is further developed in the margins of the graph of the Urlinie.)
The later graph (Der freie Satz, Fig. 124/5a) makes e
3
(3), rather than g
2
, the start of the Urlinie
but still shows a
2
as both a neighbor (by the starring of the a
2
s in bars 3 and 5 and the g
2
in bar 12)
and as the head of the fth-progression to d
2
(by the slur drawn between these notes).
4
The early draft of Freier Satz in the Oster Collection includes a section on consecutive octaves,
unisons, and fths that would have accommodated this pattern. In the nal form of Der freie Satz,
there is no specic discussion of 810 exchanges.
j
, , ,
, , , , ,
, , ,
,
,
,
, ,
,
,
, ,
,
,
, , , ,

Nb
(Nb)
Rp
I
5 ,
Rp m. Nb. Abkrzung
nicht I IV
Mozarts Sonata in C Major, K. 545
157
158
First Movement (Allegro ma non troppo)
Sonata Form:
First Subject bars 120
Second Subject bars 2136
Closing Subject bars 3752
Development bars 5367
Recapitulation bars 68122
Bars 1. In the rst subject the Urlinie (p. 159) actually moves from 5 to 2 but,
like the Mozart sonata analysed in the preceding essay, includes the 6

as neigh-
bor note. It presents itself in four sections: the twofold descent 5 4 3 in bars 1
8, and a further twofold descent from 6

(6

3 and 6

2). But even in bars 1 4 the

5 4 3 of the tonic chord is repeated: the rst elaboration of this descent is
strengthened by thirds from below, which have been artfully concealed by arpeg-
giations (bar 1) and a broader unfolding (bars 23); the second, being under-
pinned by a full cadence, is more important. The transfer of the second section,
bars 58, to the higher register also determines the register of the third section;
it is only when 4 resolves to 3 that we regain the lower octave, in which the rep-
etition also takes place. The threefold approach to 3 is noteworthy; 2 is reached
only in the fourth section. The reinterpretation of 2 as 5 of the new key takes
place exactly as it does in Mozarts Sonata, K. 545.
Bars 21. The second subject comprises antecedent and consequent phrases, bars
2128 and 2936. The succession 1 3 beneath the 5 should be understood simply
as an unfolding of the harmony. The outer voices show a particular beauty in the
coordination of the principal intervals: see the dotted lines in the graph of the
Urlinie.
d
2
e
2
f
2
d a d
1

8 5 3
The bass d that belongs to the initial octave comes from as far back as bar 15; it is
not actually sounded again until bar 36. Accordingly, the e
2
and f
2
in bars 22 and
24 represent anticipations!
The motives in bars 2122 and bars 2324 bear a certain relationship with the
diminution in bars 14. At any rate, the 5 4 3 in the second half of bar 24 is re-
lated to the succession of tones in bars 22 and 24.
Bars 36. At this point, 5 appears above the 1 , but it is not until bars 4344 [recte:
4243] that it is followed by the remaining tones of the fth-progression: the
succession 54 3 in bars 3640 is merely gives advance notice of what is to
come. There follow two further repetitions, which are both distinguished from
and connected to each other by changes of register (compare the Haydn sonata
discussed earlier, bars 3660).
1
The two repetitions use 6

as a neighbor note.
Bars 53. Apart from the key changes, the course of the development basically
follows the line dcb. The principal motive of the second subject appears in
bars 5355, and again in bars 5659. In bars 59, the descending series of tones
prepares the way for the descent of the Urlinie in the recapitulation. In the reca-
pitulation, bars 74 mark a turning to subdominant; but one may not speak of
this as the key of C major, for the beginning of recapitulation stands rmly and
decisively in G.
2
Beethovens Sonata in G Major, Op. 49, No. 2
Beethoven: Sonate opus 49, Nr. 2 (U. E. Nr. 4029) {Tonwille 4, pp. 2021}
t r a ns l at e d b y wi l l i a m dr a b k i n
1
This should have read bars 3662: see Tonwille i, p. 153, note 1.
2
Schenker is probably alluding here to the Mozart sonata discussed in the preceding essay, in
which the rst subject is recapitulated in the subdominant, F major.
Beethovens Sonata in G Major, Op. 49, No. 2
159
The great masters of German music have not merely made the art of music:
they actually are the art of music itself. By an unfathomable dispensation by the
Creator, who has sown and reaped all things, they, too, have been allowed to sow
and reap in the realm of music. But no matter how little a man contributes to
Gods sowing of the seed, he may take away from the harvest as much as he can
carry; and likewise, no matter how little he contributes to those musical masters
sowing of the seed, he may take away from their musical harvest as much as his
heart desires.
1
A seed is in the earth, and growsbut no one can say whether it
has grown of its own accord or has been raised by genius. Something whole
developsbut no one can say what is attributable to its own support system and
what genius has added to it. But the whole is always determined by the one seed,
and thus in the small world of tones the law of Nature at large is enacted.
To them, the great masters, was given what was denied even to the religious
institutions: namely, to grant mankind actual fulllment, not merely a recipe for
fulllment. If ethical precepts are the highest laws of human synthesis, then they
cannot be understood, let alone followed, without the gift of synthesis. If only
natural instinct could be relied on amidst lifes confusions to reach a determina-
tion that conforms equally well to religion and to the situation at handthen no
cloud of misery would ever have passed over the human race. But human syn-
thesis, like any synthesis, is rst and foremost artin the loftiest senseand the
animal in man still has no soul for art. The religious institutions were no more
able to implant one within him than they were able to create earth, air, re, and
water, which is Gods prerogative alone.
Whether or not as men they were subject to the laws of physiological devel-
opmentin particular, whether they had to pay their dues to the laws governing
youththeir intellectual advancement was nevertheless unlike the mere cause
and eect of physically growing up that others experience, namely pubescence
and procreation, but went far, far beyond all of that. This is why they are seen to
grow and grow intellectually long after the wings of others have let them down
wings that were only of the body, never of the mind. Therein principally lies the
dierence between genius and non-genius, between a youth which, confusing
bodily development with intellectual, confronts all things past, present, and fu-
ture with literally only bodily strength, and on the other hand the youth of a
geniusgenius that independently surmounts the inescapable stagnation of its
corporeal nature through the burgeoning of its intellectual strength.
Whatever they brought to fulllment within the art of musicno matter
what others may call it: experience, a theoretical agenda,
2
and suchlike things
they never overstepped the boundaries of their art. Megalomania, such as once
led unhappy mankind to build the Tower of Babel, was unknown to them; the
Faustian impulse was totally alien to them, for they were ever mindful of the ul-
timate limits of man, which served as their constant guide and admonition. Just
as Kant established these limits for human thought as a whole, so, too, did the
great masters of German composition establish the limits of specically musical
thoughtas the boundaries of musical composition, akin to the boundaries of
human capability at the general level.
They have been not just ahead of their own time, but ahead of all times. And
so, if I may be permitted to quote myself, for mankind a Sebastian Bach will have
more importance for all time than will a talent of the fortieth century.
3
They are
160
Miscellanea
Vermischtes {Tonwille 4, pp. 2232}
t r a ns l at e d b y i a n b e nt
1
Cf. John 6.3638 Even now the reaper draws his wages, even now he harvests the crop for eter-
nal life, so that the sower and reaper may be glad together. Then the saying One sows and another
reaps is true. I sent you to reap what you have not worked for. Others have done the hard work, and
you have reaped the benets; also Psalm 126.5 and Matthew 6.26.
2
Programm: Schenker may mean a composers explanations of his own works, or he may mean
literally a program, that is, a text that explains the course of a piece.
3
In an unpublished typescript in the Oster Collection, Niedergang der Kompositionskunst,
Schenker writes: Talent and genius are actually two dierent intellectual qualities; and so it will al-
ways be that a talent, even one of the thirtieth century, will still always be lesser than a genius of, say,
the fteenth century (OC 31/29, p. 2). The essay is mentioned in Schenkers Harmonielehre (1906).
always high above the horizon, but the eye of mankind cannot endure the glare
of their sunlightSo may the sun be always at my back, they say, with Faust.
4
They will not pass into oblivion with the ages but, rather, the ages with them.
Just as Plato lives on in what one may call the idea-made-esh of his ideas, fol-
lowing the passing of the Greeks, and after them so many other ages, none of
which understood him, so, too, will the German masters of music, detached from
the ages of human history, represent to all eternity the idea-made-esh of music.
They patently felt Gods grace hovering over them. Haydn said of his Cre-
ation: I did not write that: God did. Likewise Goethe, of his poems: I did not
write them: they wrote me. The geniuses dwell together and commune in the
most blessed state of true theocracy in complete realization of the phrase ut omnes
unum sint [that all may be one]they are all the one music: music itself. {23}

How pitiful, by contrast, is the immutable law of the rest of humanity:

Brought into the world as animals, they are slaves to the bodys desires, with-
out the compensating desires of the intellect. Knowing nothing of seedtime and
harvest, of rst things and last, they live merely by whatever the present moment
oers, and this they take as fulllment, as complete fulllment. A childs bab-
bling, its rst tentative utterance, they take to indicate a fully developed brain; the
rst signs of acquisitiveness in a youth to signify progress. Excited and infatuated
by the roar of the latest in modern life, each generation believes itself to be ush-
ering in a new spirit. But it takes other, new ears to understand this, their
mouths bellow, although their ears are far too wretched to take in that which is
indestructible in the message of earlier generations. Drawing life only from the
impulse to imitate, they cannot do without an authority as the object to be imi-
tated. As soon as they extricate themselves from one, they straightway become
addicted to another. But in extricating themselves from one and becoming ad-
dicted to another, they nevertheless delude themselves that they are forging con-
stantly ahead, never for a moment realizing the contradiction, never recognizing
that all the time they are beholden to authority.
It is they who make all forms of hierarchy (theocracy, aristocracy, democracy,
etc.) necessary, but just do not realize the fact. Even if, amidst the parade of forms
and cults, they experience inevitable disappointment, and come to recognize the
harm doneand it does not take much acumen to realize, for example, what lies
hidden behind todays cults and forms: exhibitionism over weapons and trade,
theft of foreign property, and suchlike vicesthen it still does not occur to them
that their very own shortcomings are to blame. And though they may remain
permanently in the same condition, spellbound by authority, form, and cult, they
nevertheless regard escape and change as genuine progress, even if it involves
changing everything. But what is change? Nothing more than the day, the mo-
ment, at which animal existence is fullled. Genius, however, is more than the
moment in time and its concomitant change.
How pitiful in particular is benightedness:
5
When genius, in its state of grace and full maturity, requires a whole lifetime
of the most unremitting labor for its work, benightedness has no hope of ap-
proaching such work without grace and with only hit-and-miss, sporadic in-
volvement. Benightedness might be capable of understanding this, but does not.
Instead, it makes as if to claim that even with its more modest gifts and lesser ex-
penditure of time and eort it can nevertheless outmatch the masters, and so dis-
play more genius than the genius himself. It fails to realize that it arrives at a work
of art never by the direct route of personal introspection and experience but al-
ways by the indirect route, i.e., via others. It recognizes it only by hearsay, e.g. a
Beethoven symphony only as this or that conductor interprets it, or as this or that
orchestra plays it; it does not stop to think that these are all, as a rule, false wit-
nesseswhere is the work itself in all of this? Benightedness begets benighted-
ness; and, deaf to the saying of Christ, You will always have the poor among you,
but you will not always have me,
6
it proceeds to betray genius.
Even when, to the glorication of genius, it trots out things from the books
of geniuses, great and small, doing so serves merely to show the benighted up as
patently inferior mortals (it is more economical with money). All it accomplishes
by this is to swell the ranks of those hostile to genius, thus doing evil where it
might perhaps be doing some good. All its to-do about progress is a misunder-
standing; and where the misunderstanding is at its greatest, progress is closest
at hand. Its constant hankering after something dierent in art, best satised by
resorting to the genius, is only a desperate cry for new material for it to hold forth
and scribble about by the day and by the hour. Ah, what would it not give for art
Miscellanea
161
4
Goethe, Faust, part 2, act 1, scene 1 (twelve lines from end).
5
Halbbildung denotes half-education or half-maturity.Benightedness originally implies the
opposite of enlightenment, that is, a state of darkness, but has come to signify intellectual or moral
ignorance. For Schenkers opposition of Halbbildung and Vollbildung, benightedness and full ma-
turity have been adopted here.
6
John 12.8.
to comply with their hunger for holding forth and scribblinginstead, it has to
learn to be dishonest. It soon works out that things can be dierent and carves
out a niche for itself, arranging its lives around it to the advantage of both its pock-
ets and its vanity. It bandies about empty phrases from one payo to the next,
7
and
does business on the basis of You scratch my back, and Ill scratch yours.
But the betrayal that German benightedness perpetrates on geniuses is partic-
ularly grievous. German benightedness is, after all, unlike that of other nations,
not even kept within national bounds. The benighted still cannot understand
that the concept of world citizenship relies upon a thorough-going plurality and
diversity of nations, all under equal justice; and consequently that, if he hopes to
assume signicance as a world citizen like other nations, the German must ac-
tively seek to be a German more than ever. Totally foreign still to the benighted is
the concept of national honor as dened by Schopenhauer: For completeness
sake, national honor should also be mentioned here. It is the honor of an entire
nation as part of the community of nations. Since within this community there
is no other forum than that of force, and accordingly every member-nation has
to protect its own rights, the honor of a nation consists not only in the established
opinion that it is to be trusted (good reputation), but also in the opinion that it
is to be feared. Hence it must never let infringements of its rights go unpunished.
{24} In this way, it unites the point of honor of bourgeois honor with that of
chivalric honor.
8
This is why German benightedness is so easily attracted to, and bedazzled and
deluded by, the self-condence of the other nations, and surrenders itself un-
conditionally and unreservedly to them like a common prostitute. It makes for a
French/English benightedness that is still much better than the very best French
or English full maturity could ever be! What the other nations owe the Germans,
German benightedness adamantly refusesin all its magnanimityto take into
account. All the more eager and willing is it therefore actually to overestimate
that for which in its view Germans are indebted to other nations, and to pay over
the odds with its land, its people, its national honor, and its intellectual giants
not just once but over and over and over again, just as often as the enemy chooses.
Benightedness turns Germany everlastingly into an intellectually occupied region
in which, to the advantage of its enemies, it conducts putsch after putschworse
than that: it ransacks its own country. Like the Hebrews, who once erected a
statue of Zeus in the Temple of Jehovah, it thinks nothing of ensconcing in the
temple of its Bachs, Mozarts, Beethovens, etc., the likes of Csar Franck, Berlioz,
Debussy, Ravel. Indeed, it abandons most shamelessly the masters with whom it
enjoys the premier position among all nations, merely so as to emulate the other
nations in ineectuality, in which it is able to see nothing but progress. A Berlin
fan of foreign culture was recently able to write: For us, ancestral pride in our
tradition is widely cultivated, and yet at a public performance in that city a work
by Mozart was actually hissed o the stage.
However, maybe in time German benightedness will nd its way back to the
great masters, back to its own nation. Its main task would be to undertake a thor-
ough revision of world history (and not just of the Versailles Treaty), which is as
falsely written as is the history of music, and to inscribe anew and irrevocably
within that the eternal lineages of the nations [die ewigen Urlinien der Vlker].
Then, chastened by serious disappointments, it would have to stop constantly
looking out for some other, more favorable image of those other nations, and
concentrate instead entirely on learning the other image of its own great mas-
ters. In this, it should be guided by pure pride in its heritage, by the recognition
that no one will ever be able to write a fugue, chorale, suite, symphony, quartet,
cantata, song, ode, opera, etc., better than they were written by German masters.
No less would the internationalist [weltbrgerliche] mentality, which prides itself
so greatly on German benightedness, have to assume greater responsibility for
cherishing the work of the great masters, as much for the sake of the other na-
tions, as a priceless boon to the whole of mankind, and as a model to all. Let be-
nightedness turn Enlightenment against itself above all, not against genius, and
nally with all modesty venture its rst steps into the realm of profundity. For
that realm, as I have explained elsewhere,
9
far more than all progress, which steers
clear of the depths, is far bluer and more romantic than even the farthest distance!
tonwi lle 4
162
7
Von Lhnling zu Lhnling: the diminutive of Lohn (wages), Lhnling implies a payment of a
small cash sum for a one-o job. Its pejorative connotation is accentuated by Schenkers repetition of
the word; he may be thinking in particular of the profession of journalism, in which writers are often
paid by the piece rather than receiving a regular salary.
8
This paragraph is taken from Schopenhauers Aphorismen zur Lebensweisheit (Aphorisms on
the wisdom of life), chapter 3 Von Dem, was Einer vorstellt (What a man represents). See Schopen-
hauer, Parerga and Paralipomena, trans. E. F. J. Payne (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1974), vol. 1, p. 390.
9
Schenker is paraphrasing here the concluding remarks to his essay on the Prelude in C minor
from Bachs Well-Tempered Clavier, book 1, rst published in Die Musik, vol. 15, no. 9 (June 1923) and
reprinted as an appendix to his essay Das Organische der Fuge, an analysis of the companion fugue;
see Meisterwerk ii, pp. 94 95/pp. 5354.
If, on the other hand, German benightedness keeps up its betrayal, still no
harm will come to the German masters on that account. They will live to eternity,
they will stand eternally as a national symbol of the German people. (Genius can
indeed function at a purely national level, tied to land and people, to mountain
and forest, to its very soil.) And ifGod forbid!the German people should one
day go the way of the Hebrews and be robbed, deceived, despised, and spat upon
by Barbarian hordes, then its masters of musical composition will represent as it
were the Holy Testament, and, faced with this, even the Barbarians will have to
pay tribute to this for all time.

Fortschritt Progress
Die Zeit, sie eilt so schnell voraus, Time, she hurries on so swiftly;
Und ich, ich blieb zurck. And I? I stayed behind.
Ich schme mich! Was kommt heraus? Im put to shame! What will come of it?
Es bleibt ein Migeschick. A misfortune it remains.
Doch strmt sie hin unbndig jach, Yet she hurtles forth unbridled over yon.
Kaum reicht so fern mein Blick. My eye can scarce discern her up ahead.
Die Bahngenossen strmen nach, My fellow-travelers race on in pursuit.
Und ich, ich blieb zurck. And I? I stayed behind.
Vielleicht kehrt wieder sie des Wegs; Perhaps shell come back this way;
Lat sitzen mich am Stein! Let me sit down on a rock!
Vielleichthat sie sich md gerannt Perhapsif she has wearied now
Hol ich sie doch noch ein. I may yet catch up with her.
Der Gang der Welt ist nicht so rasch, The pace of the world is not so fast
Als Torheit meint und spricht; As folly would have us all believe;
Man wei wohl: Flgel hat die Zeit, Its a well-known thing: time has wings,
Die Zeiten aber nicht! Yet the ages do not!
Grillparzer (1839)
10

Bach entitled his Two- and Three-part Inventions (1723):

11
Trustworthy instruction, wherein amateurs of the keyboard, but espe-
cially those desirous of teaching, will be shown a clear way not only (1) to
learn to play strictly in two parts, but also with further progress
12
(2) to
handle correctly and well three obbligato parts, and at the same time not
only to invent good ideas but also to develop these well; but, above all,
{25} to achieve a singing style of playing and therewith to acquire a strong
foretaste of composition.
The keyboard player of today very likely shakes his head and asks: Does that
mean Bachs keyboard music is really capable of being played in a singing style?
Is there a melody in there somewhere? If so, where?
He doubtless knows that the great German masters who came after him prized
Bachs art above all others; if so, our keyboard player will smile in amusement at the
ranking of musical spirits drawn up during Bachs lifetime by Scheibe: Fux, Hasse,
Handel, Telemann, Bach
13
or as the Necrology (in Mizlers Bibliothek, 1754) gave
it: Hasse, Handel, Telemann, the two Grauns, Stlzel, Bach, Pisendel, Quantz, Bm-
ler.
14
There is nothing there to help him answer his question about melody, by
which Bach set so much store. If only he could see the world through the eyes and
minds of the masters, then indeed. . . . But about Bachs voice-leading there is not
a word, nothing about the art that he, like nobody before or in his own timenot
even Handel, knew how to create and unfold in so new and powerful a way, with a
profundity inexpressible in words, on the basis of fewer and simpler laws. He still
Miscellanea
163
10
The title is Grillparzers; Wiener Grillparzer- Album(Stuttgart: J.G.Cotta, 1877), 125 (which gives
the date as 1840).
11
BWV 772801, each set of fteen being in dierent keys arranged in ascending order from C
major to B minor in the nal version, surviving in Bachs autograph MS of 1723. The passage quoted
here constitutes the title, inscribed on the title page, and concluding prepared by Johann Sebastian
Bach, Capellmeister to the noble Prince of Anhalt-Cthen, a.d. 1723.
12
Bei weiteren progressen: Schenker presumably chose this passage, and the Grillparzer poem
Fortschritt, to complement the discussion of progress that spans the rst part of this Miscellanea.
13
Johann Adolph Scheibe, Der critische Musicus (Hamburg: Wiering, Beneke, 173840; enlarged
second edition Leipzig: Breitkopf, 1745).]
14
Musikalische Bibliothek, vol. 4 (Leipzig: Mizler, 1754), Communication of the Society for Mu-
sical Sciences in Germany from 1746 to 1752,Historical Explanation of the Medal at the Founding of
the Society for Musical Sciences in Germany, pp. 1056. The article is signed not by Mizler (who had
studied with Bach and took up the cudgels on his behalf), but by A. Vestner, who singles out the rst
three because of their fame respectively in Italy, England, and France, and lists the remainder as other
great German masters.
cannot nd the tonal connective [Tonwort] that serves to carry the melody in the
stricter sensein short, everything in a keyboard piece by Bach remains foreign to
him. He hears Bach, as does all the world, still with the ears of the Arnstadt consis-
tory court and the Arnstadt congregation,
15
with the ears of the Leipzig Consistory
Court, which, because it could not obtain the services of Telemann and Graupner
on whom it had set its hearts, entrusted the job of Cantor only as a last resort to
Bach, in their view a mediocre talent, on the recommendation of Graupner!
This is immediately apparent in the editions of Bachs music. Not even the
collected edition
16
is above reproach for recommending at doubtful points pre-
cisely the readings that are untenable. The many other editions are even more
open to criticism, for they play complete havoc with the text. All those tempo and
dynamic markings, slurs and dots, annotations and commentaries! Things are so
bad that even the few directions given in the autograph manuscripts have been
discarded merely because they contradicted their editors interpretations.
And the wretched performances of Bachs works! Whether you attribute
them to bad editions or put them down to the staleness that inevitably results
from mindless usage over a long period of time is immaterial. It is a fact that
Bachs works are nowadays reeled o in monotonous fashion like the prayer-
wheel of a Tibetan Buddhist, expressionless, turgid, a veritable agony to the ear
and mind of performers and listeners alike.
17
Is there anywhere a glimmer of hope? Thoroughness of musical training as it
existed in Bachs day must really have been ones rst duty.
18
Today it is clearly
unattainable, when the demon of the machine and of business saps the brain
power of musical professionals and amateurs, renders them mindless, and whips
them up in a frenzy of crazy gyrations. It would be fruitless to point out that art
has nothing to do with the extremes of naturethe speed of light-waves, of elec-
tric current, and of sound-propagation. For the blessing {26} of art, the exploita-
tion of natures forces oers not the least substitute; it has led only to ones being
able to inquire over vast distances aboutthe weather or the Stock Exchange.
19
So for the time being let this rule of thumb be recommended, until more fa-
vorable circumstances arise: play Bachs works slowly, far more slowly, four to
eight times more slowly than is done today, and you will see how the time so
gained has been spent in a way worthy of art.
If we bear in mind rst of all that Bachs own day was not so far removed from
one in which people still literally stumped from one chord to the next, we shall
recognize the impossibility that the sort of tempo we readily assume as a pretext
for ours today could have evolved by then. Admittedly, Mizler tells us that Bach
preferred setting very brisk tempi; but he was undoubtedly confusing lively tempo
with the richer content of which Bach, in creating from the harmonies an elabo-
ration [Auskomponierung] of hitherto unimagined scope, was the originator.
tonwi lle 4
164
15
[S]Reprimand him for having hitherto played many peculiar variationes during the chorale,
mixing in many foreign tones with it, so that the congregation became confused by it. In future, if he
is going to introduce a tonus peregrinus, he should stick to it, and not switch to something else too
quickly, or, as he has been used to doing in the past, actually play a tonus contrarius.
16
That is, the nineteenth-century Bach-Gesellschaft edition.
17
[S]I wrote about this in Kontrapunkt i, p. 129/pp. 912:
They chase and run on the piano, dust-clouds of tones rising behind the hands on the road
of the keyboard, with nowhere a point of rest or a lingering, nowhere clarity or animation!
It is as if J. S. Bach or Handelthose very composerswere just confused artists incapable
of any kind of emotional impulse; as if only we [today] were able to discover the concept of
expression, which is supposed to be most convincingly documented by our output! Just
observe: every artist or amateur will readily admit that J. S. Bach is perhaps expressive in his
vocal musicin the B-minor Mass or the Passions, for example; the same quality is discov-
ered by the string player even in the works for violin; but as soon as a pianist sits down at
the piano to perform a keyboard work by Bach, all life is immediately driven out of the work
of art and nothing remains except a caricature of tones! Does the pianist suppose that Bach
suered a partial eclipse of his expressive capacity? Why is he not eager, like a violinist or
singer who follows a good tradition (Joachim or Messchaert, for example), to rise to the full
measure of Bachs art of expression? Perhaps [piano virtuosos] will nally recognize that it
is not their place to represent a J. S. Bach as a keyboard-maniac just to claim for themselves
a higher level of inspirationwhat a fatuous and idle complacency! Do todays piano vir-
tuosos really believe that a piece by Liszt, Franck, or Grieg, for example, contains more ex-
pression than a suite, partita or toccata by J. S. Bach? Then let them rst learn to read notes
and truly perceive the meaning of one or another suggestive notation; only then will they
humble themselves and let Bach speak as the greatest artist and human beingwhich
should be their sole responsibilityinstead of passing their own art o as the only authen-
tic one!
Since that time, the performance even of the vocal works, too, has worsened; for example, that of a
motet has turned mostly into a hollering and gargling, as if the large chorus were engaged in its morn-
ing ablutions.
18
[S]In his KlavierbungEin Lehrgang des Klavierspiels nach neuen Grundstzen, zugleich erste
Einfhrung in die Musik [Keyboard practice: a course of instruction in keyboard playing according to
new principles, together with an introduction to music] (Stuttgart: G. A. Zumsteeg, 191819), August
Halm makes a ne attempt at enabling beginners to think musically, feel musically, and be sponta-
neous. Let us hope that serious educators of the young will make every eort to use his book!
19
Schenker implicitly draws an analogy here between (relatively trivial) communicating by tele-
phone (which came into common use in the 1880s), and (much more consequential) thinking and
composing musically over great expanses of time. Already in Tonwille 1, p. 23/i, p. 22, he has reied
this analogy in speaking of the Urlinie as the composers Fernhren (long-distance hearing), Fern-
hrer being the German word for a telephone receiver.
We can gauge Bachs tempo with some certainty if we look at the handful of
ngerings by him that survive, e.g. the ngerings given in the appendix to the
Bach-Gesellschaft edition, vol. 36, for the Fughetta in C major No. 8 (a sketch for
the C Major fugue of the Well-Tempered Clavier, book 2).
20
How clearly they rule
out anything mechanical! How delightfully the motion of the ngers is molded
by the ngering from moment to moment! They show convincingly that this
nger progression, which moves so lovingly, could never have been executed at
the fast tempo to which players of today would like to push it. Unfortunately
Spitta, in the rst volume of his Bach biography (pp. 649), misunderstood
Bachs ngering, for in many places he took as one nger passing under or over
another what are clearly nothing of the sort, but are instead indications to repo-
sition the hand for new gurations.
21
Behind all of this, moreover, lies the improvisatory element in Bach, which
totally contradicts the unduly fast execution so fashionable todayand is not al-
most everything with him extempore creation? Obviously, lack of skill in impro-
vising has become an obstacle today even just to reimagining the long-lost ex-
tempore art of a Bach. This goes to show how one shortcoming always begets
another.
The construction of our instruments suggest equally well that we should re-
duce tempo appreciably when performing a keyboard piece by Bach. We know
from Emanuel Bachs testimony that his father was capable of making not only the
clavichord singwhich others could, of course, also dobut even the brittle-
sounding harpsichord, which others could not do. There is nothing to the con-
tention that Bach was himself unable to satisfy his desire for a singing style of
playing on account of the awkward construction of his instruments. If our pianos
are lauded for their singing and very malleable tone, then this places on todays
pianists an obligation to realize Bachs desire as strictly as possiblean obliga-
tion that would be all the greater if the instruments of Bachs time had still been
inadequate. Additionally, in the performance of polyphonic music, we have to
balance out a certain deciency in our instruments, which is the reverse side of
the advantages that Bach enjoyed. The clavichord and harpsichord, because of the
resonance of their all-wood construction, rendered polyphonic voice-leading
transparently; such clarity is totally unattainable with the very dierent resonance
of our instruments. Their tone is admittedly bigger and fuller; but this very full-
ness, together with the type of resonance, to some extent masks the individuality
of the voices. Their sonorities lack light and air, they are literally stied in their
own fullness. Thus it is that, in addition to a players intellectual comprehension,
only the most painstaking balancing of dynamic levels, only the most careful ap-
portioning of light and shade, can render polyphony with true clarity on our pi-
anos, all of which requires more time than the player of today is prepared to grant.
Moreoverwhat a lamentable thoughtin a world that has learned how to
build organs bigger and richer in tone, and to build pianos that are more robust
and malleable, we have in our midst no Sebastian Bach, who alone was able to
write for the organ in exemplary fashion, no masters who possess the secret of
writing truly well for keyboard instruments and of playing them truly well!
I have already drawn attention to non legato playing as an excellent means of
slowing down the tempo in older masterworks in the Beitrag zur Ornamentik
(1908, Universal Edition 812), pp. 2122/pp. 4647 and in my explanatory edition
of the Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue (1909, Universal Edition 2540), p. 42/p.63. I
will oer just one example here to substantiate what I have said in those places.
In the D major fugue of the German Requiem,
22
Brahms has the same counter-
point played simultaneously by strings non legato and winds legato: while keep-
ing everything owing and continuous, he nevertheless enables every single
eighth note to register individually. If only pianists, too, would capture this eect
for their instrument, they would achieve {27} the right non legato for the per-
formance of Sebastian Bachs works.

In his book on Bach (Breitkopf & Hrtel, 1908), Albert Schweitzer comments:
The copies that he made of other music are the nest testimony of all to
his modesty. Long after he could have considered himself anyones pupil,
he still made copies of Palestrina, Frescobaldi, Lotti, Caldara, Johann Lud-
wig and Johann Bernhard Bach, Telemann, Keiser, Grigny, Dieupart, and
anyone else you care to mention. We sometimes wonder how it was that
Miscellanea
165
20
Vol. 36 (Clavierwerke, vol. 4), pp. 224 25 and p. xciv original ngering; Neue Bach-Ausgabe,
vol. V/vi/2, pp. 31113 and critical commentary, pp. 37677 in a version more richly embellished and
supplied with ngering after Johann Caspar Voglers copy.
21
For example, Philipp Spitta, Johann Sebastian Bach, 187380, third edition Wiesbaden: Breit-
kopf & Hrtel, 1921; English translation by Clara Bell and J. A. Fuller-Maitland (London: Novello,
1889; reprinted New York: Dover, 1951), vol. 2, p. 39: Philipp Emanuel prohibits the passing of the
middle nger over the rst; Sebastian prescribes it in the fth bar of the rst piece and in bars 22 and
23 of the second . . . Emanuel does not allow the third nger to cross over the little nger; Sebastian
requires it of the left hand in bars 38 and 39 of the second piece . . .
22
Fourth movement, bars 173: Der Gerechten Seelen sind in Gottes Hand.
his critical sense did not stop him every few moments, as he copied. To us
it seems incomprehensible that he could bring himself to copy out whole
cantatas by Telemann. But these were acknowledged masters: he respected
them and worked hard to make them widely known. Which of his con-
temporary composers bothered to make a copy of the St. Matthew Pas-
sion, so that this work might be preserved for posterity?
23
The explanation is simple. Non-genius wastes a great deal of time anxiously
accumulating artistic capital. It also wastes a great deal of time on life: in breath-
lessly toadying up to non-entities like itself [and] to the masses, in having to
nudge, cajole and pamper the masses so that it may in turn be nudged, cajoled
and pampered by them, it admittedly acquires life and recognition in rich mea-
surethe never-ending complaints about lack of recognition are a self-delusion,
since the sum total of general recognition far outweighs what its mediocrity war-
rants. However, since the masses have nothing to oer, non-genius must pay for
those gains by loss of personality and of its own creations. To it belongs life.
By contrast, genius is spared such losses. A higher dispensation endows it
with artistic riches, such that it has time not only to create more works, and
works of higher value, but also to lead a deeper, richer, more courageous life. Ge-
nius has time also for humanity and modesty; it has time in general, and goes
calmly into timelessness. To it belongs life and super-life.
24

The seventh piece of Sebastian Bachs rst Clavierbchlein for Anna Magdalena
Bach (1722), published in vol. 41 [recte: 43] of the Bach-Gesellschaft edition, is an
Aria in C minor, in two parts, sixteen bars long, for two voices throughout, and
almost entirely in sixteenth notes.
25
Spitta and Count Waldersee passed over this
piece almost without comment. It had nothing to say to them. To me, on the
other hand, it says something important.
I can virtually hear Anna Magdalena asking her husband to explain the Aria
to her. From out of the sixteenth-note passage-work, he extracts its true mean-
ing, notating it in larger note values, almost entirely in quarter notes, and then
goes on to indicate a thirty-second-note diminution. There is no doubt that Bach
is here demonstrating the concept of diminution, of elaboration [Auskomponier-
ung] in general, since there would be no other way of explaining why he followed
the piece in small note values with one in larger values, moreover leaving out the
bass. This situation is not to be confused with that of variation, where, by con-
trast, the piece proceeds from simple proportions to richer and more active ones.
We thus learn from this exampleand this is the important pointthat Bach,
when thinking of diminution, not only had the simpler outline clearly in his head
but was also when teaching in a position to communicate his consciousness of it
to others. Anyone who has the opportunity to see this example of Bach at work as
a teacher might, even before he takes its solution to heart, try his hand at it him-
self. The very simplicity of the piece will enlighten him all the more readily as to
the true nature of diminution, as to the rise and fall of the lines with respect to the
tones that are ultimately intended, as to the stripping-away [Abstimmung] of all
lines with a view to revealing a simpler one, and so on. In particular, may Bachs
teaching come to the attention of those musicians who continue to underesti-
mate the importance of such a backward-tracing process. There is no doubt in
my mind that Bach, when asked about the plan [of his piece], would have been
able to express himself even more succinctly and to lay out the skeleton
26
of the
piece in longer valuesas the shortest diatonic line, which I call the Urlinie.

From Philipp Emanuel Bachs Versuch ber die wahre Art, das Clavier zu spielen:
27
Introduction, 1. The true art of playing keyboard instruments depends on
three factors so closely related that no one of them can, nor indeed dare, exist
without the others. They are: correct ngering, good embellishments, and good
performance.
tonwi lle 4
166
23
Albert Schweitzer, with M. H. Gillot, J.-S. Bach, le musicien-pote (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hrtel,
1905), enlarged German translation, as J. S. Bach (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hrtel, 1908), pp. 14243;
Schenker quotes and discusses Schweitzers book also in Meisterwerk i, pp. 8893/pp. 4850.
24
berleben: the word commonly means survival, but here it has Nietzschean overtones.
25
Vol.43/2, pp. 4 5 VII. Air and p. vii Air. Fragment, pp. 4243; Neue Bach-Ausgabe, vol. V/iv,
pp. 4041 and critical commentary, p. 15: Fragment of an Air with variations in C minor, BWV 991
[the piece is laid out over pp. 4243. Notated material appears only on pp. 4243, with the remain-
der of p. 43 and all of p. 44], ruled for eight systems each, left blank, doubtless for the continuation of
the Air. The thirty-second-note diminution (without bass line) ends incompletely in bar 11. The
overall form is thus: I, bars 116 in two parts (but bass stops at bar 9); II, bars 116, upper voice only,
in longer note-values; III, bars 111, upper voice only, embellished.
26
Gerippe: this term and the synonymously used Plan feature in Schenkers principal analysis of
a pedagogical work: the free fantasy in D major from Emanuel Bachs Versuch, discussed in The Art
of Improvisation; see Meisterwerk i, pp. 2130/pp. 813.
27
These remarks are excerpted from part 1 of the Versuch, introduction and chapter 1; the text that
follows is based on Mitchells translation, pp. 30, 36, 38, 41.
2. . . . All other instruments have learned how to sing. The keyboard alone
has been left behind, its sustained style obliged to make way for countless elabo-
rate gurations. The truth of this is attested by the growing beliefs that to play
slowly or legato is wearisome, that tones can be neither slurred nor detached, {28}
that our instrument should be tolerated only as a necessary evil in accompani-
ment. As ungrounded and contradictory as these charges are, they are, neverthe-
less, clear signs of bad keyboard playing.
11. The more recent pianoforte, when it is sturdy and well built, has many
ne qualities, although its touch must be carefully thought out, a task which is
not without diculties. . . . Yet, I hold that a good clavichord, despite its weaker
tone, shares equally in the attractiveness of the pianoforte and in addition fea-
tures the vibrato and portato which I produce by means of added pressure after
each stroke.
12. . . . In order that the strings may be attacked as well as caressed and be ca-
pable of expressing purely and clearly all degrees of forte and piano, they must be
resilient.
15. . . . Those who concentrate on the harpsichord grow accustomed to play-
ing in only one color, and the varied touch which the competent clavichordist
brings to the harpsichord remains hidden from them. This may sound strange,
since one would think that all performers can express only one kind of tone on
each harpsichord. One can easily perform the following test: ask two people, one
a good clavichordist, the other a harpsichordist, to play in turn on the latter in-
strument the same piece containing a variety of embellishments, and then decide
whether the two have produced the same eect.
From Fingering, 2. For this and other reasons the study of ngering is a
treacherous path along which many have erred. For one thing, there is only one
good system of keyboard ngering, and very few passages permit alternative n-
gerings. Again, every gure calls for its own distinctive ngering, which may re-
quire modication simply through a change of context, and the comprehensive-
ness of the keyboard creates an inexhaustible wealth of gures. Finally, the true
method, almost a secret art, has been known and practiced by very few.

Haydn wrote to his publisher Artaria on July 5, 1789: It is a constant source of

pain to me that not a single work I have entrusted to you is free of errors. It must
have pained him all the more because he took such meticulous care over his own
handwriting. True, his script was small and delicate; nevertheless, it was precise
and unfailingly clear for anyone, once they were familiar with his particular, often
shorthand way of writing slurs, wedges,
28
dots, and trills. Considering that all no-
tation is rooted in content, and that where doubt arises this and this alone is the
deciding factor, it is after all understandable and excusable that his earliest en-
gravers perpetrated so many errors. Just think what Haydn would have said, had
he been presented with engraving like that of today, which ies so disgracefully
in the face of all artistic truth!
Now, the collected edition of his works (Breitkopf & Hrtel)
29
marks a turn
for the better. The edition of his piano sonatas, now complete, must be welcomed
with open arms. The astonishing diligence with which its editor, Kurt [recte: Karl]
Psler, indefatigably examined and collated all the sources he could lay hand on
cannot be praised highly enough. If we visualize the conditions of the time, re-
ecting as they did total scorn for the law, conditions in which pirate publication
was rife throughout Europe, in which copyists and publishers engaged in the
most underhand dealings with one another, always with an eye to the quickest ex-
ploitation of their clandestinely made exemplars rather than to the accurate re-
ection of their content, then we can get some idea of the diculties the consci-
entious editor faced. To judge from the remarks that Psler makes in his critical
commentary, the edition could evidently have turned out even better given a
surer artistic sense and greater decisiveness.

One of the rst people to report on Haydns life was G. Carpani (1812),
30
who
also belonged to the masters circle. Soon after, in 1814, Stendhal published his
Lettres crites de Vienne sur Haydn under the pseudonym A. C. Bombet.
31
In this,
he lifted at least two hundred pages of Carpanis 298-page book word for word,
even retaining the rst-person singular, which must have led his readers to be-
Miscellanea
167
28
Keile: wedge-shaped staccato marks, which usually appeared in handwritten sources as vertical
strokes. Haydn generally used these strokes for staccato, and dots with a slur for portato; but he some-
times used dots on their own, for example, to indicate the clear separation of repeated notes.
29
Joseph Haydns Werke: Erste kritisch durchgesehene Gesamtausgabe, ed. E. Mandyczewski and
others; ten volumes of this unnished edition were issued between 1907 and 1933.
30
Le Haydine, ovvero Lettere su la vita e le opere del celebre maestro Giuseppe Haydn (Milan:
C. Buccinelli, 1812).
31
Lettres crites de Vienne en Autriche, sur le clbre compositeur Joseph Haydn, suivies dune vie
de Mozart, et de considrations sur Mtastase et ltat prsent de la musique en France et en Italie
(Paris: Didot, 1814). See also Lives of Haydn, Mozart and Metastasio by Stendhal (1814), translated by
Richard N. Coe (London: Calder & Boyars: 1972).
lieve that Bombet was personally close to Haydn. It was Romain Rolland
32
who,
on the basis of meticulous comparison, exposed this state of aairs in a special
essay, admitting candidly that he had no idea what could have induced Stendhal
to commit so outrageous a theft (Rollands own word). {29} That a German pub-
lisher could be induced to couple together two French authors as highly prized
on intellectually occupied German territory as Stendhal and Rolland, by printing
Carpanis Haydn book yet again under the name of its plagiarizer Stendhal and
including Rollands essay as a kind of covering note (as a postscript, of course,
not as a foreword), is a complicated German aair. What is more important is
that I deal with Rollands essay here.
At one point, he says: It took time before this clear, ironic voice could be
heard amidst the din of the Romantic orchestra. But once heard, it could never
be forgotten. One can scarcely believe ones eyes. What? Rolland singing the im-
postors praise in the selfsame article in which he exposes his shameless plagia-
rism? Does that accord with any of the laws of logic or ethics? Does not Rolland
here become as much of a puzzle to us as Stendhal is to him?
It is not enough for him to write at another point: The fact that he (Stend-
hal) today drags his victim (Carpani) behind him in the wake of his fame makes
us want to search these letters for what is intellectually his [Carpanis] own.
Whose side is Rolland taking? Carpanis, so that his rightful property can be re-
stored to him on the basis of proven plagiarism? Or Stendhals, so that, despite
the exposed plagiarism, Carpanis property can nally be delivered into his
hands? Are there two Rollands? One who unabashedly seeks out the truth, and
another who ignores it when it suits him, so as to redeem the glory of a compa-
triot authoras can be seen, Haydn plays not the slightest role in all of this
and award him, against all ethical standards, that which belongs to someone else?
In intellectually occupied territory, apathy and lack of principles are prone to
consider everything that is a mere slip-up, anything merely harmless, as not worth
the eort of putting a stop to. I think otherwise, and have grounds for doing so
when I place the many other statements that Rolland has made in his writings
about music and musicians alongside it. Let me oer just a few passages from his
Beethoven book (published in Zurich by Rascher), widely read in certain circles.
33
On p. 17, he writes: Later, when he (Beethoven) was compelled to quit Bonn
and spend almost his entire life in Vienna, in the frivolous capital and in its
gloomy suburbs, he could never get the Rhineland out of his mind . . . Rolland
is confusing the Vienna that he had seen in 1910 with the Vienna of Beethoven,
the outskirts of which were still quite rural and cheerful! But is it right for him to
commit such a blunder in, of all places, his book on Beethoven? Did not artistic
truth and justice require that the beauty of Viennas outskirts be remembered just
as clearly as that ofthe Rhineland? Was the anachronism just a slip on his part,
or did he unconsciously hit upon this as a pretext for expressing some touching
words of regret, as utterly inappropriate as they are? Or what else might it be? But
on to the next passage.
On p. 53, he writes: Vienna never warmed to him. In this city given to aec-
tation, with its fashionable air satiated with mediocrity, his proud and free spirit
could [take no pleasure], to which he adds in a footnote: The composers who
lived in Vienna toward the end of the nineteenth century suered severely under
the atmosphere of the city, which was in the throes of a pharisaical Brahms cult.
34
What is Rolland up to, with all these thrusts? To begin with, is not medioc-
rity the same everywherein Paris just as in Vienna? Or does he considerit
rather looks like itthat French mediocrity is fundamentally better than Ger-
man? Beethoven, Brahms in Paristheres a laugh!how on earth would Pari-
sian mediocrity have reacted to those intellectual heroes? When Berlioz made the
witty, astute remark that for humanity Beethoven was a luxury, he forboreal-
though French himselfto choose between humanity in Vienna and humanity
anywhere else. But what does Rolland mean by the distinction that he makes?
Why is he always taking aim at the Vienna of Beethoven and Brahms, at the Vi-
enna that he thinks he has seen but has not in fact seen?
But let me not persist in my questions. I already know why. Theres method in
Rollands way of doing things. Thomas Mann, who was sorely disappointed by Rol-
land on many occasions (read his Reections of a Non-Political Man, pp. 136),
35
tonwi lle 4
168
32
For Schenkers remarks on Rolland, and the Clart movement to which he belonged, see The
Mission of German Genius, Tonwille 1, p. 14/i, p. 14 and note 75.
33
Schenker is referring to Rollands Vie de Beethoven (Paris: Hachette, 1903), German trans. L. Lang-
nese Hug as Ludwig van Beethoven (Zurich: M. Rascher), Eng. trans. B. Constance Hull (London:
Kegan, Paul, Trench, Trubner, 1917). Though the recipient of Schenkers anti-Gallic venom, both here
and in The Mission of German Genius (Tonwille 1), Rolland later wrote enthusiastically of
Schenkers theories, quoting the Erluterungsausgabe of Op. 101 with approval in the third volume of
his Beethoven: les grandes poques cratrices (Paris: Editions du Sablier, 192845).
34
The quotation from Rollands main text has been cut o before the nal verb; it is supplied
here. From the footnote, of which Schenker quotes only a small part, it is clear that Rollands im-
pression of Vienna was strongly inuenced by that oered in Wagners Beethoven (1870).
35
Betrachtungen eines Unpolitischen (Berlin: S. Fischer, 1918), trans. W. D. Morris (New York:
F. Unger, 1983), pp. 11723.
came nally to see him as a Frenchman through and through, and thus at heart
entirely without cosmopolitan adeptness, and once addressed him, with painful
irony: Ah! How little you deserve the stigma of the enboch,
36
how little you de-
serve exile! How temperate is your justice!And there you have it: temperate jus-
tice where the Frenchman is concerned, andcovert aggressiveness where the
non-Frenchman is concerned. This is why, at Carpanis expense, Rolland is so
temperately just over Stendhals fame and his clear ironic voice. This is why he
forgets the Viennese outskirts of that time and dreams, almost like Poincar,
37
of
the Rhinelandin his lecherous dream, there comes to him the temperately just
equation: Beethoven the Rhinelander Beethoven the Frenchman. This is why
he covertly scos at {30} the mediocrity and pharisaical Brahms cult of Vienna,
and is so just as to pronounce judgment even upon Brahms. . . .
So now, European-ness is certainly no shame, nor does it need, as we can see,
to fear anything from exclusive French-ness. Exclusive French-ness also is cer-
tainly no shame but is denitely a disadvantage, since it is no substitute for the
preconditions that are still necessary if one is to write pertinently, and not just in
the manner of French justice, about music and musicians. To count Rolland
among musicians would be to commit all those who dwell on the same, by no
means solitary height, to sharing with him his superciality (Oh! la douce
france) and his mental attitude: temperately just where Frenchmen are con-
cerned, covertly aggressive where non-Frenchmen are concerned.

The young Mozart on performance (from his letters of 177778):

He (Stein) was totally besotted with Beeckes
38
playing. Now he sees and
hears that I play better than Beecke, that I dont pull faces and yet play as
expressively, that nobody else, to his knowledge, can make his pianofortes
sound so good. Everybody is amazed that I always keep strict time. They
simply cant understand how, in a tempo rubato in an Adagio, the left hand
is oblivious of what is happening. With them, the left hand yields as well.
The words strict time here refer forward to the next sentence, to the tempo ru-
bato in the right hand, which yields to the ornaments and other gures but with-
out bringing the left hand along with it. So, far from dispensing with tempo ru-
bato in the right hand, as people regrettably do today for the sake of strict time,
Mozart creates a higher symmetry to which the left hand, despite the tempo ru-
bato in the right hand, adheres.
They (the sonatas of Myslivecek)
39
are very easy to play, and pleasing to
the ear. My advice to my sister, to whom I send humblest regards, would
be that she play them with great expression, taste, and re, and learn them
by heart.
So: expression, taste, even in sonatas byMyslivecek!
The Andante (of the Sonata in C major, K309) is what will give us the
most trouble, for it is full of expression, and must be played accurately
and with taste, the fortes and pianos just as marked.
40
That word expression again!
He (Sterkel)
41
played ve duets (sonatas with violin), but so fast that one
could make nothing of them, and not at all clearly, and not in time. Every-
body said the same. Mlle. Cannabich
42
played the sixth one and, in truth,
better than Sterkel.
Yesterday she (Mlle. Cannabich) again gave me indescribable pleasure:
she played my sonata absolutely superbly. She plays the Andante (which
must not be taken quickly) with the utmost expression. Whats more, she
enjoys playing it.
43
N.B. before dinner he (Abb Vogler) had hashed his way through my con-
certo . . . at sight. He took the rst movement prestissimo, the Andante al-
legro, and the Rondo really and truly prestissimo. . . . You can imagine how
Miscellanea
169
36
Lit. the Germanied-one; Boche (French: rascal) was used derogatorily in World War I to de-
note Germans.
37
See The Mission of German Genius, Tonwille 1, p. 11, note 56.
38
Ignaz von Beecke (17331803), pianist, composer. The letter is dated October 23, 1777; the under-
linings are in Schenkers personal copy (OC, Books and Pamphlets 11). There is a further marginal
note: Moz. unterscheidet Partiturschlagen von Galanzumspielen (Mozart distinguishes between
playing exactly what is in the score and decorating in galant style).
39
Josef Myslivecek (173781), Czech composer. The letter is dated November 13, 1777; the under-
linings are in Schenkers personal copy.
40
The letter is dated November 14, 1777; the underlinings are in Schenkers personal copy.
41
Johann Franz Xaver Sterkel (17501817), German composer and pianist.
42
Rosina (Rosa) Teresia Cannabich, the daughter of the celebrated Mannheim composer and
conductor Johann Christian Cannabich, was thirteen years old when Mozart wrote K. 309 for her in
1777. The letter is dated November 27, 1777.
43
The letter is dated December 67, 1777; the underlining is in Schenkers personal copy.
unendurable it was from the fact that I could not bring myself to tell him:
far too fast! Besides, it actually is much easier to play a thing fast than
slow. . . . And what does the art of playing at sight entail? Just this: play-
ing the piece at the correct tempo, exactly as it should be, with all the
notes, appoggiaturas, etc., as written, and with the appropriate expression
and taste, so that the listener will believe that the performer has com-
posed it himself. Voglers ngering is atrocious too, . . .
44
Here at long last the key word of key words: such that the listener believes the
performer to have composed it himself.
Ive decided to stay home today, although it is Sunday, because it is snow-
ing so heavily. For I am obliged to go out tomorrow, because our house
nymph Mlle. Pierron, my greatly-to-be-esteemed pupil, is to rattle o the
concerto that I wrote for the lofty Countess Ltzow at the French concert
that takes place every Monday. I, too, shall prostitute myself and let them
give me something to bash out on the piano, and shall be sure to strum it
at sight. For I am a born wood-chopper, and all I can do is bang out a little
piano!
45
Do the wood-choppers of today understand that?
She is now quite denitely ready to be heard in public. For a girl of four-
teen and an amateur, she plays pretty well, and she has me to thank for
that, as all Mannheim knows. She now has taste, trills, tempo, and im-
proved ngering, none of which she had before.
46
The human voice has in any case a certain tremulousness; but it is in the
nature of the voice that the degree of uctuation is attractive. This qual-
ity should be simulated not only on wind instruments, but also on string
instruments, and even at the keyboard.
47
Mark this well, player, and sing, sing, sing!
48
{31}

Zu Mozarts Feier In Celebration of Mozart

(4. September 1842) (September 4, 1842)
Glcklich der Mensch, der fremde Gre fhlt Happy is the man who senses greatness in others,
Und sie durch Liebe macht zu seiner eignen. And through love makes it his own.
Denn gro zu sein ist wenigen gegnnt, For to be great is granted to few,
Und wer dem fremden Wert die Brust verschliet, And he who closes his heart to the worth of others
Der lebt in einem den Selbst allein, Lives alone in his own barren world,
Ein Darbenderwohl etwa ein Gemeiner. Destitutea low form of life.
. . . . . .
Wir aber, die wir dieses Fest begehn, But we who celebrate this feast,
In starrem Erz nachbildend jenen Mann, Imagining that man cast in hard bronze
Der weich war wie die Hnde einer Mutter, Who was as soft as a mothers hands,
Lat uns in gleich verwechselndem Verwirren Let us not, by confusing matters,
Nicht auch des Mannes Sinn und Geist entgehn. Fail to see also the mans mind and spirit.
Nennt ihr ihn gro? er war es durch die Grenze; Do you call him great? He was so, beyond measure;
Was er getan, und was er sich versagt, What he did, and what he disdained to do,
Wiegt gleich schwer in der Wage seines Ruhms. Weighs heavily in the scales of his fame.
tonwi lle 4
170
44
This critique of the Georg Joseph Voglers playing claries a cryptic reference to the German
theorist toward the end of the essay on another Mozart work from the mid-1770s, the Sonata in A
minor, K. 310; see Tonwille 2, p. 18/i, p. 66 and note 13. The concerto referred to here is probably K. 246
in C major (1776), which has a middle movement marked Andante and a nale entitled Rondeau
and marked Tempo di Menuetto. The letter is dated January 17, 1778; the underlinings are in
Schenkers personal copy.
Schenker also indicates, with carets and ags, his intention to complete the whole passage by
lling in the two ellipses. He writes out the rst in the top and right margins: For the most part, he
played the bass dierently than written, and while so doing he played quite dierent harmony and
even melody. Nothing else is actually possible at that tempo: the eyes cannot read, nor can the hands
reach the notes. . . . The listeners . . . can say nothing other than thatthey have seen music and
piano playing. They hear, think and also feel as little in the process as he does.
45
Letter of February 22, 1778.
46
Letter of March 24, 1778.
47
Letter of June 12, 1778.
48
At this point, Schenker inserts in the margins of his personal copy of Tonville 4 two further
items. In the bottom margin of pp. 3031 he reproduces a short pair of extracts from G. A.
Griesinger 104 (Br & H. 1810), i.e., p. 104 of Georg August Griesingers Biographische Notizen ber
Joseph Haydn. He always repeated with deep feeling and tearful eyes: Mozarts loss is irreparable; I
shall never forget his keyboard playing all my life: it cut me to the quick and Where Mozart is,
Haydn cannot show his face. (For a modern edition of Griesinger, in English translation, see Ver-
non Gotwals, ed. and trans., Haydn: Two Contemporary Portraits [Madison: University of Wisconsin
Press, 1968], especially p. 56.) The second marginal insertion, at the top of p. 31, reproduces a passage
from another Mozart letter, dated June 17, 1781, concerning Josepha Barbara Auernhammer (1758
1820), who became one of his pupils in the early 1780s and received the dedication of his rst Vien-
nese publication, a set of six violin sonatas: The young lady is a monsterbut she plays ravishingly.
The only thing she lacks is true, rened, singing taste in her cantabile. She plays everything de-
tached.
Weil nie er mehr gewollt als Menschen sollen, Because he sought nothing more than to be a man,
Tnt auch ein Mu aus allem, was er schuf, An imperative sounds out from all that he created,
Und lieber schien er kleiner, als er war, And he would rather appear smaller than he was
Als sich zum Ungetmen anzuschwellen. Than pu himself up to be a giant.
Das Reich der Kunst ist eine zweite Welt, The realm of art is a second world,
Doch wesenhaft und wirklich wie die erste, Though in essence and reality like the rst,
Und alles Wirkliche gehorcht dem Ma. And all that is real obeys according to its measure.
Des seid gedenk, und mahne dieser Tag Think on this, and on this day remember
Die Zeit, die Grres will und Kleinres nur vermag. Time, which wishes for greater things but is capable
of only smaller.
Grillparzer

In an excellent article entitled A Despiser of Mozart (Neue Freie Presse, August

7, 1922), Herbert Eulenberg has vented his anger upon the Mozart biography by
Schurig.
49
True, Eulenberg is no more of a musician than Schurig (who admits it
himself), yet it is gratifying for musicians to see that even in lay circles a thrust
like Schurigs is greeted with the contempt it deserves. One wonders whether the
issuing of the second edition of Schurigs infamous work has more to do with its
elegant binding, or with a prurient interest in the despising of Mozart, or with
contempt for Mozarts despiser. It is gratifying that Eulenberg does not mince his
words when censuring Schurig as is warranted. He really gets down to it when he
writes: This crass failure of judgment on Schurigs part (in reference exclusively
to Mozart as a letter-writer) is so astonishing and inexplicable because he reveres
every word from the pen of Lespinasse,
50
who often applauds things that we view
with indierence, or all the pronouncements of that great assimilatornot to say
plagiarizerStendhal, as if they were holy writ? Should the age-old partiality for
and reverence toward things French, which is deep-rooted in us Germans, play a
trick even on this energetic man?
It is best for the reader to catch on to Schurigs modus operandi. For example,
he pursues the Mozarts, father and son, on their journey to Rome, and writes
(p. 231): We may search the letters of either of the Mozarts in vain for the sort of
profound impressions and sublime words that grace the letters and diaries of all
the famous visitors to Rome. Consider Wolfgang Goethes words in his diary entry
for October 28, 1786, the evening he arrived in the immortal city, intended for
Frau von Stein: Rome . . . My second word ought to be addressed to you . . . I can
say nothing but that I am here . . .He goes on to quote Winckelmann and Heinse,
and excoriates the fourteen-year-old Mozart because this child prodigy is not yet
in the same league as a Goethe (of the journey to Rome!),
51
a Winckelmann, or a
Heinse; because at fourteen he is not at the same time an adult, as those men are;
because he writes only musical notes, which mean nothing professionally to
Schurig. (In this regard, he elects to think with the heads of others.) Why he does
not demand the reverse of Goethe, Winckelmann, Heinse, and all the other fa-
mous visitors to Rome, namely that they accomplish the marvels that Mozart
had achieved by fourteen, the reader alone knows (certainly not Schurig).
He goes on (p. 233): There are the Mozarts in Rome! To gauge how half-wit-
ted the observations and limited the thoughts of Papa Leopold were as he walked
the streets of Rome and Naples, one has only to dig around in his guidebook.
52
On intellectually occupied territory, people write and read such stu as if it
were holy writ, for this is the French Enlightenment (as distinct from genius),
and French tact
53
in content and form, to a tee . . .
Going on: This is the divine city as Wolfgang had the good fortune to see it!
If he had had the eyes of a painter, what an apotheosis of Rome he would surely
have presented us with!
If Schurig had had musicians ears, what an apotheosis of Mozart he would
surely have presented us with!
And nally, one more snippet: In St. Peters Basilica he takes down by ear
Allegris Miserere. Once again, we might recall Heinse, who wrote of Allegris
music: The angelic song of the Miserere is the most ravishing experience that
mans mortal existence can undergo, the purest harmony, which sighs through a
thousand tensions and resolutions of astringent and bitter-sweet tones toward
Miscellanea
171
49
[S]See Tonwille 2, p. 18; Tonwille 3, p. 29/i, pp. 66 and 129. [The work under review by Eulenberg
is Artur Schurig: Wolfgang Amad Mozart: sein Leben, seine Persnlichkeit, sein Werk (Leipzig: Insel,
1913, 2nd ed. 1923), in which he drew on Nissens collection of biographical sources to conduct new
research into the inuences on Mozart, including French inuences. Schenkers wording and page
numbers refer to the rst edition.]
50
Julie-Jeanne lonore de Lespinasse (173276), French patron of the arts and diarist.
51
Goethe made his two trips to Italy when he was in his late thirties; his Italienische Reise (1816
17) is the work of a man in his mid-sixties.
52
Schurig (vol. 1, p. 193, footnote) identies the guidebook that Leopold used as J. G. Keyssler,
Neueste Reise durch Deutschland, Bhmen, Ungarn, die Schweiz, Italien und Lothringen (Hanover,
174041).
53
Takt: there may be a double-entendre here with the musical sense of the word as beat.
an eternally new, immortal existence. It seems almost as if Wolfgang got more
pleasure out of his own petty compositions than out of the Miserere itself. There
are a great many artists who, when they encounter works in the medium in
which they themselves work, gain pure enjoyment and a natural sensation from
them only on rare occasions. Technique interests them far too much. Clearly,
{32} this is how it often was with Mozart. This was one moment in which Mozart
was a thinking musician. Throughout his life, Mozart was rarely a thinker; most
of the time, he was preoccupied with technical matters. With his compositions,
one sees far less working with ideas than is the case with any other European
composer.
Eulenbergs tting response is: In the passages of this sort that Schurig often
allows himself, one might long for Gottfried Keller to administer a box on the
ears, as was his wont in such circumstances.
Schurig, please make your next booka biography of Debussy
54
. . .
tonwi lle 4
172
54
Schenker despised Debussy and his music: see Tonwille 4, p. 24/i, p. 162; Meisterwerk ii,
p. 215/p. 130 and iii, p. 108/p. 71, and would have been pleased to see a disparaging biography of him.
Tonwille 5
This page intentionally left blank
The Urlinie progresses from 5 only as far as 2, and I accordingly only as far as
V; and in this half-cadence the prelude
1
is left hanging, as though itself a question
mark.
2
The reader must be profoundly shaken when following the paths of the
imaginative power that coaxes out such a bold manifestation from such an in-
trinsically simple progression of Urlinie and harmonies (shown in Fig. 1)not
in any way to disavow the simple as too simple, but indeed to conrm faith in its
creative innity through such diverse phenomena, verging even on the enigmatic.
There is no least point on the exterior of this body, in the broad curves and lines,
that cannot be traced back living to the core of the seed: as neural paths issue
forth from the brain, animating the body, moving it, so do nerve bers lead from
this primordial plan, in eect from a brain, into every single sixteenth note:
How Fantasy sets out toward the eventual composition can be seen at a):
knowing full well that V (with 2) requires a major third to produce the effect of
a half cadence, it daresfor this very reasonto postpone it (until bar 34), and
meanwhile to draw out the journey by substituting a minor third; hence the tem-
porary minor mode for V in bar 13.
However, the minor third does not do anything like climb chromatically to
the major third, which would be the shortest route (see a)). Instead d
1
, as if it were
not the representative of 2,
3
embarks on a passing motion downward to the major
third b (see b)), which must be understood in this case as a more secretive and
artistic conversion of the upper voice into the inner voice, because d
1
is to be
understood as also still sounding above b, in the spirit of the Urlinie.
4
Not until
bar 42 (see a) and b)) is {4} the secret of the image transformed into reality and
d
1
nally retrieved. And when the upper voice then climbs on up to g
1
, it still wants
to recall the rst tone, as if from a distance, without wishing to unseat the 2.
But how much further the creative force still ventures is revealed only at c). It
indulges itself in two broadly arching ornaments in bars 1732 and 3541, which
cleave to one another in a relationship of parallelismwhat a fulllment of the
law of repetition (Harmonielehre, 4)!
5
of which the rst is covered by the major
175
Bachs Little Prelude No. 3 in C Minor, BWV 999
J. S. Bach: Zwlf kleine Prludien, Nr. 3 {Tonwille 5, pp. 34}
t r a ns l at e d b y j os e p h dub i e l
1
The Neue Bach-Ausgabe classies this prelude as a lute piece; see the essay on Little Prelude No.
1, note 7. The lute version is notated with a signature of two ats. Apart from this there are three dif-
ferences between the lute and keyboard versions (which Schenker, ignoring his own exhortation at
the end of the earlier essay, does not discuss). One, with no signicance for Schenkers analysis, is the
duration of the nal chord: a dotted half-note for lute, a quarter-note for keyboard (in both cases with
fermata). The other two, conceivably more signicant, are that the descending gure at the end of bar
16 is e
,
A for lute, cA for keyboard, and that the bass note in bar 23 is D for lute, E
,
for keyboard.
These will be discussed at the relevant points in the analysis, in notes 6 and 8.
2
In 307 of Der freie Satz, including Fig. 152/6 (a graph presenting a stage of elaboration inter-
mediate between Figs. 1b and 1c of this essay), Schenkers attitude toward the fundamental structures
incompleteness seems more reserved.
3
Als wre er nicht Trger der 2: the tone d
1
is not identical with the 2 of the Urlinie, but expresses
this functiona distinction generally worth bearing in mind.
4
[S]This is fundamentally a prolonged form of a third-progression; concerning this concept see
Kontrapunkt II, pp. 59/pp. 58., and compare the many other prolongations of fourth-, fth-, sixth,
and octave-progressions, etc., which all derive from the same law, in the issues of Tonwille.
5
The cited section of the Harmonielehre states no law of repetition explicitly, at least none that
can be satised through the mere fact of a gures recurrence. The principle that is discussed there
that a gure can take on a signicant identity only when repeated (with whatever degree of exactness
or overtness), and until then can represent at most a subordinate part of some larger entitytells what
happens if a gure is repeated (or not); it can be construed to require a repetition only if conjoined
third of the dominant chord (bar 34), the second by the fth (bar 42). Written in
small note values as at c), the two ornaments would recall those rapid oriture
with which piano writing is also apt to ornament individual tones (as in J. S. and
Emanuel Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, etc.). It is essential to keep this
rmly in mind, if one wants to come somewhat closer to the incomprehensible, to
the miracle of that infallible self-possession with which the master, in preluding,
strides in such large note values through an ornament that started so small!
The rst ornament touches c
2
as its highest point (bar 22), the second only a
1
(bar 36): in this the greater signicance of the rst than of the second is expressed
even on the surface: the one brings forth the major third that is decisive for the
half-cadence, the other pauses after the event, as it were. The graph of the Urlinie
(see above) shows exactly how the inner voice is transferred up an octave in bar 15,
while the bass falls [from G] in two leaps of a third, thus in a fth-progression,
6
to
C, neighbor note to the root D that enters in bar 17, which in this case merely di-
vides the dominant.
7
Directly above the root of the divider, in the upper voice, ap-
pears the third, f
1
, with which the rst ornament begins. This ornament must
then be articulated, according to the chord, into three segments: the diminished
fth f
1
c
2
(bars 1722), the same diminished fth descending (bars 2227), and
nally the augmented fourth (bars 2732). According to their signicance or to the
occasion (chromaticism, for example), the individual tones of the ornament are
brought forward and maintained for one or two bars. The eectively stationary
tone of the divider (bars 1732) is interrupted only once, by the neighbor note E
,
in bar 23:
8
the single interruption accentuates the impression of stability all the
more, according to a secret law of the psyche. In bar 33, where the divider nds its
way back to the root of the dominant and draws in the raised third, the heaviness
of the major-seventh chord (Tonwille 3, p. 6/I, p. 102, Fig. 1 [Haydns Piano Sonata
in E
,
major]) serves to raise this event to prominence. (Compare, for example,
bars 1718 in Bachs C minor Prelude in Book 1 of The Well-Tempered Clavier.)
9
tonwi lle 5
176
with some further, independent assumption, such as that a gure of a certain prominence ought not
be left with its identity unconrmed. The circumspection of Schenkers Harmonielehre formulation
seems here to be overcome by his wish to imagine events in piece as occurring in obedience to laws.
The passage in Der freie Satz cited in note 2, and, even more explicitly, Fig. 82/4, discussed in 206,
show the rst of the two oriture more thoroughly integrated into the third-progression d
1
c
1
b, with
its c
2
actually serving as the rst representation of the passing tone, displaced by an octave; this inte-
gration would presumably leave the gure less imitable by a simple iteration of its contour, and in-
deed this analysis makes no claim for a parallel between the two ornaments, nor even represents the
second one.
6
Quintzug: a connected purposeful motion through a fth, even if not by step. No low C occurs
in bar 16; conceivably the reinforcement of c, in the higher octave, could be claimed as the point of
the change from e
,
on the third beat of the bar in the lute version of the piece to c in the keyboard
version (although, of course, a revision to include low C, along the lines indicated in the graph of the
Urlinie, would also have been possible and was not made). Either version of this bar presents a sub-
tle anomaly: the original, a leap between non-contiguous chord tones (not to mention a concentra-
tion of unusual intervals); the revision, a repetition of the downbeat pitch on the third beat. Arguably
the approach to the D pedal is a good time for an anomaly of some sort. Meanwhile, the question
arises of how the treatment of E
,
here (its recurrence in the higher octave, or nonoccurrence, on the
third beat; its not being superseded as lowest note by C) might interact with the E
,
neighbor note in-
troduced in bar 32 by another revision (discussed below in note 8).
7
[S]The upper or lower fth of a chord, presenting itself by leap in the service of a passing mo-
tion or neighbor note, I call an upper- or lower-fth in Freier Satz. [Schenkers promised account of
upper- and lower-fth dividers can be found in the Elucidations, which appear later in Tonwille (8
10) and in Meisterwerk I and II. In Der freie Satz the term divider is not extended beyond its para-
digmatic application to the upper fth (implied in 18 and made explicit in 89) to the lower fth
even though it is extended to a third mediating between root and fth (in 279). If anything, Der freie
Satz projects a degree of skepticism about IV arising other than as a contrapuntal approach to V. In
10611 Schenker does discuss the possibility of IIVI harmonizing a neighbor motion, but also
takes pains to dierentiate this categorically from IVI.] The divider accordingly is nothing other
than a leaping passing tone (Kontrapunkt II, pp. 177./pp. 181.), and the accompanying chord pro-
duced by it likewise just a passing or neighbor-note harmony. Compare, for example, the lower-fth
divider in Bachs Little Prelude No. 5, later; other lower-fth dividers in Haydns Sonata in E
,
major,
rst movement, bars 5267, or last movement, bars 106122, and so on (Tonwille 3); an upper-fth
divider in Beethovens Sonata op. 49, no. 2, rst movement: bars 2124 (Tonwille 4); and so on.
8
Only in the keyboard version does this neighboring E
,
occur; the maintenance of D in the orig-
inal lute version shows either that E
,
was a second thought, or that a secret law of the psyche is not
proof against the unavailability of an open string.
9
[S]See my essay about this prelude in Der Musik (Berlin) [XV/9], June 1923 [pp. 64151; the point
in question is addressed on p. 645. The essay was reprinted as part of Das Organische der Fuge in
Meisterwerk II; see especially p. 89/p. 50.].
To a much more signicant degree than Prelude No. 2 (see Tonwille 4), Prelude
No. 4
1
shows imitative polyphonic mastered by means of an Urlinie. Secret ad-
herence to its diatonic course provides the only way to conjure such activity into
a compelling whole.
In the rst four bars, 1 3 actually are produced by the cooperation between
reaching-over technique, against an octave descent in the bass (divided into
fourth- and fth-progression), and an application of fugal form in the motivic im-
itationsee the graph of the Urlinie, p. 178. (On the essence of the reaching-over
technique, see Freier Satz [Der freie Satz 129134]; cf. Tonwille 5, p. 37/I, p. 206.)
Fundamentally the motive signies only a succession of two tonesd
2
and
c
2
in bars 12but the internal treatment is richer: the first two quarter notes,
since they both include leaps of a third, d
1
f
1
and a
1
c
2
, are tightly bound to-
gether by this common characteristic (the light decoration of the second leap of
a third does nothing to contradict this); and similarly the third and fourth quar-
ter notes unite into a half note, d
2
, which they express so strongly that the leap of
a third d
2
f
2
is completely lost in them, despite the rhythmic augmentation. In
the hand of the master, a motive like this could even have become the dux of a
real fugue (see, for example, the fugue of the Toccata in D major [BWV 912], im-
bued with all the exuberance of a free fantasy), but here Bach is satised with just
the application of some features of the fugal form. These consist obviously in the
fact that the imitation in the bass in bars 23 assumes the form of a comes, which
is taken up by the upper voice in bars 34 and answered by a dux form in the bass
in bars 4 5.
With 3, attained in bar 4, an octave descent begins, f
2
f
1
, whose particular-
ity
2
is demonstrated in the following illustration:
At 1, we see the octave descent carried out exclusively in a progression in
thirds in the outer voiceswhich brings along consecutive fths, however, in-
volving either the upper or lower voice, depending on the progression of the
inner voice. In contrast, 2 shows a mixed plan of execution: after {6} the initial
third come four sixths (by inversion of the voices), whereupon thirds return and
conclude (see a), b), and c) in 1 and 2).
It is the latter form that Bach chose. And once again there is a simulation of
fugue, when just the second half of the octave descent is given over to imita-
tionssignicantly, the chain of imitations is interrupted specically in the sec-
ond half of the sixth bar; thus, at the point when the change in execution occurs,
as a marker of the transition from sixths to thirds.
f
1
is reached in bar 8; in this bar and the following ones, a continuation to a
1
will now be made, in the sense of 3 5. Only the rst quarter note of the motive
is placed in the service of this segment of the Urlinie; but the I remains always in
view. The consecutive fths that come with the outer voices progression in thirds
are eliminated through interpolated leaps of a fth (see the graph of the Urlinie).
In the second half of bar 9, a new neighbor-note formation arises in the upper
voice, which not only gives the sign of a reversal with its falling direction but
alsoand here the art of synthesis is marvelousbecomes a model for the fol-
177
Bachs Little Prelude No. 4 in D Major, BWV 925
J. S. Bach: Zwlf kleine Prludien, Nr. 4 {Tonwille 5, pp. 57}
t r a ns l at e d b y j os e p h dub i e l
1
This prelude may be not by Bach, but by his son Wilhelm Friedemann; see the essay on Little
Prelude No. 1, note 7 (Tonwille i, p. 143).
2
[S]For other octave descents, see, for example, Bachs C minor Prelude from Book I of The Well-
Tempered Clavier, bars 518 [see the preceding essay, note 9]; Haydns E
,
major Sonata (Tonwille 3),
rst movement, bars 4 8, bars 4850, bars 5764, and so on; Mozarts Piano Sonata in A minor (Ton-
wille 2), last movement, bars 3740, bars 7276, and so on.
lowing formations. The reapplication of the rst quarter note of the motive in
bars 89 seems to have reawakened a recollection of the second quarter note of
the motive as well: in bars 10 and 11 the bass now counterpoints with the entire
rst half note of the motive. The consecutive octaves and fths on the rst and
third beats are likewise eliminated through interpolations of fths.
Consequently, the total ascent 1 5 is not worked through into a richer change
of harmonies, but is only carried out with voice-leading art of the most colorful
kind within a single harmony. Only in the second half of bar 11 does the succes-
sion [Zug] of cadential harmonies begin: IIVI. Also, in acknowledgement of
the cadence here, a change of motive in the upper voice. The third-progression
e
1
c
1
can be grasped as a unit in the sense of a linear elaboration [Auskompo-
nierung] of just 2 (on this, see Kontrapunkt II, pp. 59/pp. 58, and Freier Satz
[Der freie Satz, 118]).
In bar 13 the line strives upward once again, but this time only to 4; in the
total picture this creates an eect as though 5 (bar 9) had sunk directly to 4 (bar
14), despite the intervening full cadence. In bar 14, once again, only third-pro-
gressions are to be assumed for 3 and 2, just as for 2 in bars 1112, despite the har-
monic progression.
In bar 15, 1 now appears for the second time; meanwhile the comes form drives
the upper voice right up into the heights, once again making the octave descent
d
2
d
1
necessary, but this need only be considered an elaboration [Auskomponier-
ung] of I, in the manner of:
8

7 6

7 8
3 4 4 3
I IV V I

I
supported primarily by neighboring-note motion on the third (Kontrapunkt II,
pp. 251/pp. 261 ):
{7} Therefore, only third-progressions are to be seen in these bars, too.
3
It may appear strange at rst that our prelude, whose rst Urlinie tone 2
(bar 1) stands in the register d
2
, concludes with d
1
(see bars 15 and 18). Obviously,
Bachs ear attributed decisive signicance to the d
1
that initiated the motive, if he
tonwi lle 5
178
3
Exactly what third-progressions Schenker has in mind is not clear. Having just described bars
1517 as organized about a neighbor motion on the third, f

, he might mean that the whole of bars

1518 can therefore be identied with their concluding third-progression f

ed; but this would leave

his use of the plural unexplained. Of the two layers of 34 4 3 motion shown in Fig. 2, one within
bar 15 and one over bars 1517 (the former ornamenting the initial f

of the latter), evidently only the

latter continues downward. Perhaps the plural is simply a mistake, possibly induced by Schenkers in-
tention to refer to the third-progressions on 3 and 2 in bar 14, and that on 2 in bars 1112, which he
has recently cited. In that case, one more problem remains: the initiating tones of the earlier third-
progressions are all shown in larger noteheads in the graph of the Urlinie; but the note printed larger
in bar 15 is d
1
at the beginning of the span, not the initiating tone of any third-progression.
Another possibility might be a succession of third-progressions that can be found in the upper
voice in Fig. 2: d
2
c
1
b
1
, overlapping b
1
a
1
g
1
, succeeded by f
1
e
1
d
1
(assuming that the second slur
is meant to end within bar 16, and the b
1
a
1
g
1
motion to occur entirely within the 4 of the larger
34 4 3)or indeed the further elaboration of these shown in the graph of the Urlinie, in which g
1
initiates a third-progression of its own, g
1
f
1
e
1
, before f
1
, and f
1
initiates a third-progression f
1

e
1
d
1
(not to be identied with the nal third-progression of Fig. 2, which has meanwhile been trans-
formed into f
1
(e
1
)d
1
c
1
d
1
). As irregular an articulation of the octave-progression as this may
seemparticularly when Schenkers overriding claim is that the passage remains under the control
of the I harmonyit is no more irregular than what Schenker asserts explicitly in the next essay, on
Prelude No. 5 in D minor, namely the articulation of an octave descent from f
2
to f
1
(third of the D
minor triad) into three third-progressions, fed, overlapping dcb
,
, succeeded by agf. Under
some circumstances, Schenker evidently considers it possible for a subdivided octave-progression to
remain under the control of its originating harmony even if the tones of this harmony are not used
as nodal points between subordinate progressions at every possible point of articulation. And in
fact, his invocation here of the neighboring progression 34 4 3 underlying the octave descent in
this piece implies a more specic explanation of the ostensibly non-tonic articulation of the octave-
progression than anything in the analysis of Prelude No. 5.

actually strove in the sequel to reach f
1
(bar 8), and, from here on, to remain in
the one-line octave. And if he activates the higher octave once more in bar 15, he
only wants to respond to the register of bars 14, in the sense of the obligatory
conduct of registers (see Tonwille I, p. 39/I, p. 35), without prejudice to the value
of d
1
as the beginning and ending tone.

When one considers art in the higher sense, one might wish that only
masters would occupy themselves with it, that students would be tested
most rigorously, that amateurs would feel content in a reverent approach
to it. For the work of art should spring forth from genius, the artist should
summon forth content and form from the depth of his own essence, deal
with the material in a commanding manner, and admit external inu-
ences only for the purpose of his own development.
Goethe, Theory of Color
4
The result of a genuine method is called style, as opposed to manner. Style
elevates individuality to the highest point that the genre [Gattung] is ca-
pable of reaching; for this reason all great artists approach one another in
their best works.
Goethe, Diderots Essay on Painting
5
Bachs Little Prelude No. 4 in D Major, BWV 925
179
4
Zur Farbenlehre: Entwurf einer Farbenlehre: Des ersten Bandes erster, didaktischer Teil, 1808. The
quotation is from Section 6, Sinnlich-Sittliche Wirkung, from the concluding remarks [Schlusswort].
Goethe makes these grand claims for art in order to contrast it with science, where he expects the con-
tributions of an amateur to be as welcome as those of an expert (indeed, much of the treatise is de-
voted to a rant against Newton). Whatever Goethes self-condence may do to unify the passage,
Schenker still could be accused of taking the quotation out of context.
5
Diderots Versuch ber die Malerei, bersetzt und mit Anmerkungen begleitet (1799), in which the
text of Diderots Essai sur la Peinture (1765) is translated, reordered, and exceeded in length by
Goethes commentary on it. The quotation comes from Goethes commentary near the end of the sec-
tion that he calls Von der Harmonie der Farben, in his Zweites Kapitel: Meine kleine Ideen ber die
Farbe; the translated text in this section is taken from Diderots Chapitre II: Mes petites Ides sur la
Couleur [Denis Diderot, uvres, ed. Andr Billy [Editions Gallimard, 1951], pp. 111925, but the sub-
ject of style as opposed to manner also refers to the end of Diderots Chapitre Premier: Mes Penses
bizarres sur le Dessin (pp. 111119).
We encounter f
1
(see the graph of the Urlinie, p. 181, and Fig. 1f) for the rst
time in bar 7, where it concludes the rst descending third-progression: hence-
forth, f
1
remains the boundary of all the subsequent descending progressions as
wellsee bars 20, 25, 35, 39 (43), and nally bar 48 (here raised through modal
mixture, of course). Whatever any of these progressions in the inner or upper
voice might mean, the same goal, f
1
, striven for and attained so many times, de-
velops a signicance in response to which we must recognize 3 as the starting
point of the Urlinie, contrary to appearances that speak for 5. Of course, the up-
ward register transfer in bars 78, as well as in bars 3943, compels us to accept
the two-line octave as the actual register of the Urlinie tones. In this sense, the
rst third-progression a
1
f
1
(bars 17) belongs to an inner voice, as though the
essential thing were merely to set up f
2
in a chord (in open position),
f
2
a
1
d
1
. In
the third-progression a
2
f
2
in bars 4243, replying to the first one, as though in
parallel f
2
now conrms the actual goal toneafter all, a
2
in bar 42 is still com-
pletely entangled in the sixteenth-note motion of the run that serves the upward
transferas well as the true register of the Urlinie progression.
Fig. 1 shows the gradual growth of the voice-leading prolongations, all pre-
determined in the womb of the Urlinie:
{9} a) shows the Urlinie progression and the rst [contrapuntal] intervals;
b) presents the downward register transfer f
2
f
1
, by means of third-progres-
sions in the outer voices and 56 exchange; also the renewed swing up-
ward to f
2
;
c) shows chromaticization, eecting more powerful (tonicizing) connections
and thereby dividing the progression of an octave into three third-pro-
gressions: f
2
d
2
, d
2
b
,
1
, a
1
f
1
;
d) and e) show how, in the second chord of the octave series, the third c
2
is
not led up chromatically to c
2
, but is reached through a falling third-
progression from e
2
. It is the voice-leading that we encountered in Prelude
No. 3 (see Figure 1; Tonwille I, p. 175), only here the contrapuntal octave-
progression is placed not on the divider at the upper fth, as it was there,
but on that at the lower fth.
1
Voice-leading errors threaten on the way to
this divider: consecutive (contrary) fths at d), open fths at e);
2
180
Bachs Little Prelude No. 5 in D Minor, BWV 926
J. S. Bach: Zwlf kleine Prludien, Nr. 5 {Tonwille 5, pp. 89}
t r a ns l at e d b y j os e p h dub i e l
1
As written, Schenkers sentence seems to refer to a non-existent octave-progression in Prelude
No. 3. The contrast he must mean to make is simply between the two possible dividers of the domi-
nant. In each Prelude, there is (at some structural level) a descending third-progression within the
dominant harmony, from the fth to the major third, 2 1 7 (in both cases introducing the major third
when the triad was initially minor); in Prelude No. 3, the passing tone is supported by the second de-
gree of the scale, serving as upper-fth divider (or dominant of the dominant); in this prelude, the
passing tone is supported by the rst degree of the scale, serving as lower-fth divider (not as an eec-
tive tonic). Only in this prelude are there passing motions to and from the divider, a fth-progression
and a fourth-progression that together form an octave-progression within the dominant harmony.
2
Quinten-Antiparallelen bei d), oene Quinten bei e); referred to collectively as Quint-Parallelen
in the following discussion of f).
f) nally shows the removal of the consecutive fths by means of the ex-
change 56, which is also welcome to the diminution.
Having come to light in bars 17, and even been repeated, as though for con-
rmation, in rhythmic diminution in bar 6, the third-progression is used as a
motive. On a large scale, the motive of a third permeates the broad octave descent
of bars 739, supported in this by the chromatic alterations (see earlier). In the
dominant chord of bars 921, it takes shape in the larger third-progression e
2
c
2
as well as in the smaller third-progressions set above the 65 exchange (see the
graph of the Urlinie). Then two third-progressions enliven the inner voice in bars
2125. In bars 3339, a rhythmically diminished third-progression (bars 3335)
anticipates the leading third-progression of the upper voice (see earlier), and the
motive is realized for the last time in bars 4243. (The descending passage in bars
4548 is to be divided into fourth- and third-progressions, however.)
The broad path in bars 921 gives the master occasion to shape the various
repetitions of the third-progressions more diversely, by means of a gradual accel-
eration as well as a change of diminutionsee bars 915, 1519, 1920 in the
graph of the Urlinie: after two-bar values . . follow one-bar ones . , and after
these even a quarter-note value , , which introduces the descent in bar 20.
The upward register transfer in bars 3943 is to be understood as a parallel to
that in bars 78yet another witness to the creatively alert tonal conscience of the
master!
3
But even more astounding is the artistry with which he subdivides the
arpeggiations in bars 3942: as early as the third quarter note of bar 39, he pro-
vides the (second) descending arpeggiation with leaps upward, whose seed bears
fruit only in bar 41; here he leads the ascending arpeggiations (setting in again on
the third quarter note of bar 40) up to the tone a
2
, as if to that tone that had to
enter at the peak of the motive of a third! (This masterstroke recalls that in Pre-
lude No. 1, bars 910see Tonwille 4, [p. 4]/I, p. 142.) Both a
2
s in bar 41 appear,
moreover, in the rhythm of two dotted quarter notes, to which the rst tones of
the third-progression in bar 42 are connected in the same rhythm: this leads to a
ritenuto eect, which is only further reinforced by the 3/2 rhythm of bars 4344.
Bachs Little Prelude No. 5 in D Minor, BWV 926
181
3
[S]Compare the parallelism of ornaments in Prelude No. 3.

The metronome marking ( 108) does not appear in the autograph; it was
added at a later time to the printed parts and score. On this, Nottebohm remarks
as follows:
One will nd that a proportion of Beethovens metronome markings do
not entirely accord with the character of the movements to which they are
applied. Thus, for example, several symphonic movements seem to us to
have been given a marking that is too fast. Perhaps this phenomenon can
be explained as follows: Beethoven determined the metronome marking
while working at the piano, and arrived at gures that he would hardly
have found tenable in the concert hall. Even so, the markings that are
available can help guard against misinterpretations, and to oer advice in
questionable or disputed cases. . . . Beethovens marking of the rst
movement of the Symphony in C minor (allegro con brio, 108) dis-
credits a communication from Anton Schindler in the rst edition of his
Beethoven biography (p. 241) , according to which the composer insisted
on a slower tempo for the rst ve bars: this tempo, , 126, approxi-
mately andante con moto. Had Beethoven wished a change of tempo, he
would certainly have used the metronome markings to indicate it.
1
The autograph score shows a great deal of work in many places, often more
than what would normally be understood as compositional renements. That
bars 5, 24, 127, 252 and 482 are missing was already mentioned with regard to
Fig. 3. Many other bars in the score can very clearly be recognized as later inser-
tions. This is actually the case with bars 2223 [recte: 2224], the principal mo-
tive as it appears in the consequent phrase, ibid. in Fig. 3; the fermata in bar 21
was originally followed immediately by the material of bar 25 (as the last bar of a
four-bar group), without the intervention of the principal motive. The other in-
sertions are best discussed in the order in which they appear. At bars 34 (and the
corresponding passage, bars 277), the second violin and viola parts have been
heavily corrected. Much eort was needed for the arpeggiation of the seventh
chords at bars 48 and 292; here are some of the attempts:
The notation that Beethoven consistently uses for these arpeggiations,
, corresponds better to the motivic sense of the passage than that given in
the more recent editions of the score: .
{11} For the three repetitions beginning in bar 63, the instruments originally
entered in a dierent order: clarinet and ute, rst violins and oboe, rst violins
and ute.What the autograph tells us about the slurring in bars 83 is of great
signicance. The lower slurs in g. 18 show the original slurring:
Later, an extra bar was inserted just before the end (bar 92 of the score) and the
slurs were changed in accordance with the sense of the passage, as explained ear-
lier, to correspond to the higher slurs in Fig. 18.
2
But the authentic slurring is
182
Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)
Beethoven: V. Sinfonie (Fortsetzung) {Tonwille 5, pp. 1042}
t r a ns l at e d b y wi l l i a m dr a b k i n
1
[S]Beethoveniena (Leipzig and Wintherthur: Rieder-Biedermann, 1872), p. 135. [The metronome
markings for the rst eight symphonies were issued in a small pamphlet by the Viennese publisher
S. A. Steiner in 1817; these were not intended for any specic edition of the music. The quotation from
Schindler is from the rst edition of his Biographie von Ludwig van Beethoven (Mnster: Aschendor,
1840), p. 241.]
2
Schenker is referring to the discussion of Fig. 9 in the rst part of the essay (Tonwille 1).
given only in the original edition; it is, unfortunately, not present in the Peters
edition, for example. In bars 182, the cellos and basses were originally furnished
with legato slurs.In bars 211 [recte: 213], the bassoons were originally written
an octave lower, and the harmony formed by the clarinets and bassoons sounded
as follows:
It is worth noting that, in bars 222, the violas still continued to play the f

of
the previous bars; Beethoven changed it to d, since the f

in the bass had become

a leading note.At bar 240, Beethovens rst plan corresponded to the arrange-
ment in bar 228, with the basses leading the fortissimo at the rst eighth note, B

(only the basses: even in this respect, a contrast with bar 228 is sought); the re-
maining instruments (violins, violas and winds) did not enter until the second
eighth-note, and likewise fortissimo. Only when bar 240 [in its present form] was
inserted into the score was the antiphonal eect developed, but here the rst and
second violins and violas are marked only forte on the downbeat. In reproducing
these two bars, both the rst edition and, for example, the modern Peters edition
go astray: the former assigns a fortissimo to the second eighth note, leaving the
rst pianissimo; in the latter the entire string section, including the basses, begins
bar 240 with a forte.At bar 303, the cellos were initially assigned to play with the
bassoons: yet further evidence of how little Beethoven was thinking of the
horn!In bars 323, the rst violins originally developed the singing line on
their own (in the nal version they alternate with the winds); even the cellos were
provided with their own part:
At bars 331, the diculties with the slurring from bars 86 in the exposition
return. Beethoven also replaced f with f

too soon (as early as the third statement

of the motive), so that the gure a[
,
]gf

was repeated much too often. In ad-

dition, he included the notes
a
,1
f
1 in the horn parts.In bar 386, the fth bar of the
group beginning at bar 382, an additional bar line was drawn. {12} This had the
eect of making an eight-bar group, whose seventh bar was a rest, into a nine-bar
group, whose eighth bar is a rest and whose ninth bar is reckoned as the upbeat
to the next group.At bars 400, Beethoven had a great deal of trouble working
out the wind parts. In bars 40711, the double basses originally played along with
the cellos. In bars 429 the basses proceeded entirely in half notes:
3
In bar 442, the violins were originally written an octave higher. The harmony
in bars 469 was originally assigned to the strings, as is shown by a separate leaf
in the score. Even in bar 500, Beethoven was thinking of expanding the ending,
initially with these powerful half notes:
Subsequently, on another leaf, he hammered out tonic and dominant chords in
alternation, but eventually abandoned this form, too, contenting himself with an
ending of just two bars.
Concerning the late changes to the rst edition, we may refer to what Bee-
thoven himself wrote, in a letter to Breitkopf & Hrtel of March 4, 1809: To-
morrow you will receive a list of small corrections, which I made during the per-
formance of the [fth and sixth] symphonieswhen I gave these works to you,
I had not yet heard eitherand one should not want to seem so divine as not to
have to make the odd correction in ones created works. And to the same pub-
lisher, on March 28, 1809: Enclosed are the small corrections to the symphonies:
ensure that the plates are corrected at once. . . . It is always best if you send me
the proofs together with the score that you received. To this same letter, the edi-
tor Alfred Kalischer remarks: The entire letter is concerned only with corrections
to the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies, . . . .
4
Apparently, then, Beethoven had en-
Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)
183
3
Schenker is referring here to the articulation of the bass line, not its rate of change.
4
Schenker took his text from Alfred Kalischers ve-volume edition of 19068, revised 190911;
Beethovens text is reproduced with greater accuracy in Ludwig van Beethoven: Briefwechsel: Gesam-
tausgabe, ed. Sieghard Brandenburg, vol. 2 (Munich: Henle, 1996), letters 359 and 370; in the second
letter, Kalischers nonsensical die Klavier Verbesserungen has been corrected to die kleinen
Verbesserungen. This translation is based on The Letters of Beethoven, ed. Emily Anderson (London:
Macmillan, 1961), letters 199 and 204.
closed a list of mistakes of the sort that still surfaces from time to time among
collectors and manuscript dealers. It is a great pity that the publisher attached no
value to such leaves; for without doubt they would have resulted in the clarica-
tion of many controversial passages.
5
Here are a few more probable errors that have not been corrected in the edi-
tions of the score:
6
1) The slur beginning in the viola in bar 63 should be extended over four bars,
and similarly in bars 6770 and 7174, as well as the parallel passages {13} in
the recapitulation, bars 30710 and 31518. Where the viola part includes a
note repetition, as for example in bars 7578 or bars 7982, then the slurs
should be only two bars long. In all these groups of bars, the slurring in the
rst edition is only partly correct.
2) The slur in the bassoon parts beginning at bar 67 should, likewise, be drawn
over four bars, i.e. bars 6770, 7174, 7578, 7982, and similarly in the par-
allel passage, bars 311. In this respect, the original edition is in almost com-
plete agreement with the autograph score.
3) The crescendo marked in the clarinets, bassoons and horns at bar 83 should be
struck out, as it does not begin until the following bar in both the autograph
score and the rst edition.
4) The slur in the rst and second violins beginning in bar 88 should be ex-
tended over six bars! This slur is also conrmed by the rst edition (see Ton-
wille 1, Fig. 9/i, p. 30).
5) In bar 95 (and also in bar 102, and the parallel bars 347 and 355), the staccato
marks in the rst and second violins should be removed (there are none in
the autograph score or the rst edition).
6) In bar 439, the staccato marks in the strings and timpani should be removed
(the rst edition is incorrect here).

A recognition of the four-bar construction of the principal motive amounts to a

rejection of the customary performance of the opening bars. What is, in fact, im-
portant here is to bring out the synthesis that reigns supreme in the four-bar or-
ganization, instead of thinking about the knocking of Fate, or about the yellow-
hammer. It is self-evident that the rst fermata should be shorter than the second;
and even allowing for freedom of interpretation, it should nevertheless be played
so concisely that, in spite of the second fermata, the very addition of a fourth bar
should be clearly felt. For if the rst fermata is held longer than necessary, how
will it be possible for the listener to perceive the longer duration of the second
and to make any sense of the totality of the four bars? The ow and coherence of
the principal motive will, accordingly, be best communicated if one begins im-
mediately in the principal tempo of Allegro con brio, with the rst fermata ex-
tending the prescribed length of the half note by just a small amount and, more-
over, giving every indication of being ready for the notes that follow. Of course,
it would not be out of place to hesitate at the eighth notes in bar 3, if only to pre-
pare and to increase the force of the last note of the principal motive. Maintain-
ing the principal tempo sets up the performance of the movement in the best
possible way, viewed in terms of the large-scale connections explained earlier:
even with the rst two crucial notes of the principal motive, one also enters into
the midst of the motive of the fourth, sensitive to the greater relationships that lie
ahead and prepared to control them all.
Do not overlook that the crescendo in bars 34 begins piano and, in spite of
several sforzandi, leads to forte in bar 44; the fortissimo does not follow for an-
other eight bars. In bars 44 45, and again in bars 4849, the repeated notes in
the motive should be brought out above the bass. In the arpeggiations in bars
44, the leading eighth notes should be singled out from the remaining ones, thus
with a crescendo from c
1
to b in bars 4748 and likewise with a crescendo from the
tonwi lle 5
184
5
The textual problems concerning the Fifth Symphony are among the most dicult in any of
Beethovens mature works. Although many have not been resolved, Schenkers discussion of the
sources for the symphony has been superseded by modern scholarship, of which two items are espe-
cially noteworthy: Sieghard Brandenburgs Once Again: On the Question of the Repeat of the
Scherzo and Trio in Beethovens Fifth Symphony, in Beethoven Essays: Studies in Honor of Elliot
Forbes, ed. Lewis Lockwood and Phyllis Benjamin (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Department
of Music, 1980), pp. 14698; and Clive Browns bilingual companion volume to his edition of the sym-
phony, Die Neubewertung der Quellen von Beethovens Fnfter Symphonie / A New Appraisal of the
Sources of Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Hrtel, 1996). In particular, Schenker
did not consider two important sources: a fair copy of the score with corrections in Beethovens hand
(in the archives of Breitkopf & Hrtel in Leipzig; missing since 1945), and a set of handwritten parts
used at the premiere on December 22, 1808, and at other early performances of the symphony.
6
[S]It would be desirable for the scores and parts to be put right, according to these new nd-
ings, not only here but also in the following movements, where the mistakessome quite serious
are far more numerous. [In addition to the rst German edition of the score, noted at the very begin-
ning of the essay on the Fifth Symphony, Schenker mentions an edition by Peters, which is probably
the conducting score bearing the edition number 8810. Other accessible editions include the Breitkopf
& Hrtel Gesamtausgabe from the 1860s, and an Eulenburg miniature score (edition no. 3602). There
are no personal copies of the Beethoven symphonies in the Oster Collection.]
last three eighths of bar 51 to bar 52; {14} the bass should also participate in this
crescendo. In order to convey the sense of bars 63, one should, above all, observe
the articulation as follows:
bar: 4 | 1 2 3 4 | 1 in bars 6374; bar: 4 | 1 2 3 4 | 1 in bars 7582.
In bar 86 one should quietly adhere to the basic pulse, but giving more emphasis
and recognizing that the middle of the group, bar 88, is a nodal point. The di-
culty of performing a legato slur stretched over six bars of precipitous crescendo
leads to the question of whether the slur should be divided, against Beethovens
express instructions. Now, without in any way denying the diculty, I would still
support the execution with an undivided slur, and suggest merely that the
crescendo, where it is dicult to achieve, could be facilitated by the desk-by-desk
entry of the rst and second violins; moreover, Beethoven even suggested as much
himself, in his treatment of the cellos and utes. In bars 158, one should avoid
an untimely or superuous expression of force, which might otherwise damage
the beautiful expanse of line and dynamics:
bar: 158 166 168 172 176 178 179 180
b
,
c d e
,
e

d c

d (dg)
p cresc. f pi f
In bars 196, the masters dynamic markings are welded to the unfolding con-
tent in such a meaningful and clarifying way:
bar: 196 209 211 215 221
winds: f
2
b
,
2
c
,
3
d
,
3
d
3
dim. p pp
strings: b
,
1
c
,
2
c
1
d
1
dim. p pp
that it is astonishing that they could possibly have been refuted (see the discus-
sion of the literature), and yet. . . . It only remains for the conductor to deepen
what Beethoven wrote by a complete consciousness of my explanations, in order
to create the appropriate eect from the congruence of dynamic and content. If
Beethoven begins the diminuendo in the strings with b
,
1
in bar 210, but delays it
by a bar in the winds, until c
,
2
, that is because he wants to ensure that this bar is
metrically weak compared to bar 209: what an ingenious, profound move! In bar
240, one should not forget to begin the bar fortissimo, in spite of the forte in the
rst and second violins and the violas. In the recapitulation, the oboe should be
noticeable as early as bar 262. In a certain sense, the dynamic markings in bar 268
strings:
-

oboe: f
{15} represents an original variant of the customary fp, except with a greater dy-
namic contrast.
In bars 303, the horns are normally used instead of the bassoons, which is
most inappropriate: for Beethoven knew how to write for the bassoon, as is wit-
nessed in his earlier works, and it can be accepted that he knew well what the bas-
soon would sound like in the high register, as is prescribed here. Finally, it would
have been possible for him to have used horns: corni in C, if necessary, as there
would have been sucient time for them to enter.
7
One should therefore respect
the deliberate change of scoring (as explained earlier), and not show o to Bee-
thovens disadvantage by using the prettier sound of the horn, as in the exposi-
tion, instead of that of the bassoon. In any event, the three eighth notes g
1
should
not be blasted out in a deafening fortissimo; if one instead stresses the half notes,
especially the c
1
in bar 304 and the g in bar 306, the unpleasantness of the sound
would undoubtedly be diminished.

Literature. It would have been possible to omit the following section if the criti-
cal literature on music stood at least on the same plane as that on the other arts,
and if writers on music were capable of transmitting the content of a composi-
tion in purely musical terms, as for example the plot of a drama is summarized.
Unfortunately this is not the case, and therefore it is important not to cease
pointing out their shortcomings and generally abysmal quality. One has an op-
portunity now to decide whether contemporary and posthumous judgments

Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)

185
7
That is, sucient time for the horn players to change crooks from E
,
to C. Schenker may be
thinking of a possible crook change during the fteen-bar rest after the start of the recapitulation,
which would have been extended by the oboe cadenza in bar 268. In the Piano Concerto No. 3 in C
minor, Beethoven gave the horns fty-seven bars alla breve in the opening Allegro con brio to retune
from E
,
to C, and nineteen bars in the nal Allegro in 2/4.


during the period 18101911
8
have reected any of the light from Beethovens
world, to say nothing of the wisdom of those who claim to have already known
everything when it was put before them in print.
The rst to arrive on the sceneas early as 1810was E. T. A. Homann,
whose detailed review appeared in the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung.
9
What is
striking about this historically momentous essay is that the author, although a
poet, made a great eort to provide a musically objective account, which is only
occasionally subjected to romantic illumination. (How strange it seems, on the
contrary, when non-poets have the audacity to drivel on, at the expense of the
music!) Beethoven acknowledged the poets attestation of his understanding
albeit ten years laterwith the following note of thanks: I am taking the op-
portunity aorded me by Herr Neberich of making myself known to such a
gifted person as you. You have also written about my modest achievements. . . .So
I must believe that you take some interest in me. Allow me to tell you that this in-
terest on the part of a man like you, who is endowed with such excellent quali-
ties, is very gratifying to me.
10
The custom to this day in Vienna, of printing
Homanns review in its entirety in concert programs, should be stopped, since
the compilers of these apparently also regard Beethovens note as an expression
of agreement; accordingly they accept Homanns analysis as an accurate ac-
count; in this respect they are sadly mistaken.
I begin with what Homann says at the end of his analysis and what, at the
same time, will expose in his own words the errors he makes, in the most strik-
ing way.
There is no simpler idea than that on which the master based the great Al-
legro (bar 1 with upbeat is quoted here), and with great admiration one
becomes aware how he was able to relate all secondary themes, all transi-
tional passages by their rhythmic relationship to that simple theme, so as
gradually to unfold the character of the wholea character that that
theme could only hint at. All the phrases are short, consisting of only two
or three bars, and moreover they are distributed among the string and
wind instruments in constant alternation. One would imagine that some-
thing only fragmentary, dicult to grasp, could arise from such elements;
on the contrary, it is precisely the ordering of the whole and the constant
succession of repetitions of short phrases and single chords that hold the
heart fast in an unnameable longing.Quite apart from the fact that the
contrapuntal treatment gives evidence of a profound study of the art, one
can see from the transitional passages {16} and the constant references to
the principal theme that the master did not merely grasp the whole with
its salient features as an entity, but also carefully thought it through.
Homanns understanding of the main theme as comprising just the rst bar
of the score (together with its upbeat), and the entire movement merely as an as-
semblage of short phrases of two or three bars, leads to an analysis that contents
itself merely with checking for repetition and imitation. Here are a few examples,
in abbreviated form:
11
Bars 3 and 5: a repetition of that theme. Bars 610: imitations in the violas
and the rst violins; . . . nally, two bars added to the principal theme, which is
repeated three times (the last time with the full orchestra entering) and closes
with a fermata over the dominant. Bars 25: violins and violas play the princi-
pal theme . . . in imitation, while the basses now and then play a gure that imi-
tates it. Bars 44: . . . leads to a tutti whose theme has the same rhythmic form
as the principal theme and is intimately related to it.
Bars 59 (second subject): . . . the relative major key, E
,
. . . in which the horn
again imitates the principal theme. The rst violin introduces a second theme,
which is, to be sure, melodious but which still retains the character of anxious,
restless longing that permeates the entire movement. Bars 83: As the new
theme continues to unfold, the rst violins and cellos repeat a two-bar gure ve
times in the key of E
,
minor [!], while the basses ascend chromatically.
Bars 179: There now enters a theme that had merely been suggested by the
horns in bar 59 of the exposition.
12
Bar 196: The wind instruments begin this
theme fortissimo in F minor, but after the third bar the strings take over for the
tonwi lle 5
186
8
The last work reviewed by Schenker, Paul Bekkers Beethoven, was rst published in 1912.
9
Homanns review appeared in vol. 12 of this journal (which Schenker erroneously gives as the
Allgemeine Musikzeitung) on columns 63042 (July 4) and 65259 (July 11). An English translation,
by F. John Adams Jr., appears in the Norton Critical Score of the Fifth Symphony, edited by Elliot
Forbes (New York: Norton, 1971); extracts presented here are partly based on this translation.
10
Beethoven: Briefwechsel: Gesamtausgabe, letter 1373; The Letters of Beethoven, letter 1014. Bee-
thoven wrote this note on March 23, 1820; the transmitter of the letter, Adam Neberich (whose sur-
name could not be read by Kalischer), was a wine merchant based in Mainz.
11
In the extracts from Homanns review that follow, Schenker supplies the bass notes for the
rst-inversion chords along with a few bar numbers for orientation; the latter have been placed in
brackets.
12
Im 58. Takt. Homann either miscounted the bars or, like Schenker, was sensitive to the status
of the rst bar of the movement as an upbeat.
last two bars. Then the strings and winds alternate, in imitation, a further ve
times, before alternately playing single chords that create the eect of a diminu-
endo. After the rst-inversion triad on f (bar 214), the reviewer would have ex-
pected a G
,
minor chord to appear in the harmonic progression; in the context
of the passage, which modulates to G major, this chord could be understood as
the enharmonic equivalent to F

minor. But the wind instruments that play the

chord following that rst-inversion triad are written as follows:
Immediately afterward, the strings play the F

minor chord (bar 216), which is re-

peated four times, the winds alternating with the strings one bar at a time. The
wind chords continue to be written as in Fig. 1, a notation for which the reviewer
can nd no reason. There now follows in the same way the sixth-chord on f

(bar
221), becoming weaker and weaker, with a foreboding and frightening eect!
The full orchestra then breaks in with a unison G major theme, which is almost
exactly the same as the one that had been heard forty-one bars earlier (bar 179).
Bars 398: . . . and now the violas, cellos and bassoons take up a theme which had
appeared earlier in G major, in the development section, while the violins . . . play
a new counter-melody. And so forth.
One can see that Homanns ear is not ready for higher musical connections,
which makes his presentation merely a hollow duplication in words of the musi-
cal events, and not a true clarication of their meaning.
13
Thus his introduction
is all the more revealing, where we read for instance:
If one speaks of music as an independent art, one should always have in-
strumental music in mind. For it is only this type which, disdaining all
help from or fusion with any of the other arts, expresses by itself musics
special qualities in purely musical terms. It is the most romantic of all the
artsthe only romantic art, one might go so far as to say.
As apposite as the presentiment is, it is nevertheless still very far from the rev-
elation that, unlike all the other arts, which either eect associations with people
or things or serve a useful purpose and so may be reckoned only as applied arts,
music has a completely new content, peculiar to itself. It can, in fact, neither re-
produce objects nor serve some other purpose, but creates the associations that,
when viewed in terms of the abundant resources of humanity, are just as neces-
sary for itself, by repetitions (see Harmonielehre, 4). And precisely in this regard,
music is far removed from that concept of romanticism, which is depreciated
even with respect to the applied arts. It is, if one may say so, even more romantic
than the most romantic of all the arts. It is only by the failure to comprehend
the special quality of the musical world that one can actually understand why,
until now, every philosophical {17} or aesthetic system runs aground when ap-
plied to music, however appropriate it might otherwise seem for the spoken and
representational arts.
Schindler, in the third edition (1860) of his Beethoven biography, recently re-
vised by Alfred Kalischer, writes:
14
Among the hundreds of masterful compositions, no work bears out more
fully than Beethovens C minor symphony the maxim that every true work
of art is a realization of the divine, its purpose being to confer the loftiest
blessing on humanity by the enlightenment of the earthly and the spiri-
tualization of the sensual, as well as by the sensualization of the spiritual.
What a marvelous conjoining of pathos, majesty, mystery and grandeur
is contained in these four movements! What a life of poetry unfolds be-
fore our senses in this work, allowing us to see into its depths! The com-
poser himself provided the key to those depths when, one day, in the pres-
ence of the author, he pointed to the beginning of the rst movement and
expressed the underlying idea of the work with these words: Thus Fate
knocks at the door!
On the last sentence, Kalischer remarks: From this we learn, at least, to
whom and about which work Beethoven spoke about a Fate Symphony.
Pious nonsense! Even if what Schindler says is true, he shows here and else-
where that he has understood Beethovens words no better than his music. How
little, though, did words matter to Beethoven, for whom the creation meant
everything; for the others, unfortunately, the word means everything and the cre-
ation counts for so little.
Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)
187
13
Schenker makes a verbal play in this sentence, between Darstellung and Klarstellung.
14
Anton Felix Schindler, Biographie von Ludwig van Beethoven, 3rd edition (Mnster: Aschen-
dor, 1860). Kalischers edition, entitled Anton Schindlers Beethoven-Biographie (1909), is a reprint of
the 1860 edition with extensive endnotes. I have based my text on the English translation by Con-
stance Jolly, edited by Donald W. MacArdle, which was published as Beethoven As I Knew Him (Lon-
don: Faber and Faber, 1966).
Lenz, in his critical catalogue of Beethovens collected works (1860), writes:
15
A tragedy of fate for the stages of the world. Battle. Victory. The rst
movement is an orchestral Heroid in itself.
16
The poet discovers the heroic
allegro in two-four meter: the Beethoven monogram. Anyone who is able
to summarize so succinctly and, in doing so, say so much cannot be sur-
passed. That is the meaning of the Beethoven monogram. The ancient
writing stands apart among the signs of the musical alphabet. This motto
would be the appropriate inscription for a monument in Thebes: Osi-
mandeum.
17
No individual contest against human destiny is the substance of such
a poem, [but rather] the struggle of masses against masses. Spirit or ma-
terial are the prizes of the struggle.
An inversion of rhythmic extremes, in which the greater weight is
given to the eet-footed two-four meter: more than the meter of heaviest
caliber in the ancient musical world.
18
A nale that, with its inseparably
conceived connection to a fast-moving middle movement (a minuet, or
scherzo) that strengthens itself in a higher organism, makes the whole di-
vide into two ideal parts; these are reunited by the return of the original
idea, which becomes manifest in the second parta fundamentally new
creation, born of the highest artistic understanding and the most inspired
poetic impulse, had to nullify for the world Haydns and Mozarts con-
ception of the symphony, whose formalism had thus become incapable
of life.
Only the most extreme confusion in the habits of judgment could
lead one to mention in the same breath the names of those men, who are
so great in their own ways, along with that of Beethoven, whose orches-
tral organisms present themselves to the wonderment of the world in this
symphony and the ones that follow.
Every bar of the rst movement is a stone in the Cyclopean wall.
19
Here rages the struggle between two irreconcilables: to possess, and
not to possess!
As wrong as it would be to speak about a formalism of the human body,
whose existence is entirely owing to a creative act that is forever primeval, irre-
producible, so it is just as wrong to speak about the formalism of a Haydn or
Mozart symphony. Wherever genius stretches out its nger, to speak in terms of
Michelangelos Creation of Adam, new life arises, truly and eternally new, as all
that comes from Nature. Moreover, if one is to continue the story along these
lines, from whom, then, should Haydn have taken over his conception of the
symphony? And from whom should Mozart have taken over his? Who taught the
two of them what would have been left to them merely to imitate? But someone
like Lenz, who was born to utter dead gures of speech, bears the curse of mis-
construing such sublime tonal worlds as gures of speech, worlds that are at
peace in their very own artistic life, as if oating in the ether. For what Lenz in-
sists upon here so gratuitously about Beethoven, at the expense of Haydns and
Mozarts symphonies, is again a mere gure of speech. Beethoven thinks in mu-
sical terms, a Lenz only in gures of speech: could the two ever be conjoined? But
we must think in musical terms, and not in gures of speech, if we wish to follow
a musical creator like Beethoven.
{18} On p. 73 of his Anleitung zum Vortrag Beethovenscher Klavierwerke
(Berlin: Otto Janke, 1863), Marx writes:
Strangely, such a rhetorical pause has actually been preserved in musical
notation, and in fact in the C minor symphony. The rst movement be-
gins as follows (here Marx quotes bars 14, with the upbeat), with a two-
bar motive g g g | e
,
, whose last note is lengthened by a fermata. This mo-
tive is repeated, f f f | d, except that here the last note is twice as long:
Beethoven has extended the motive to three bars, and places the fermata
on the third bar, though it had previously stood above the second. In so
tonwi lle 5
188
15
The Kritischer Katalog smtlicher Werke Ludwig van Beethovens samt Analysen derselben ap-
peared as the last two volumes of Lenzs ve-volume Beethoven: Eine Kunststudie (Hamburg: Ho-
mann und Campe, 185560).
16
Lenz is referring to Ovids Heroides, a series of love letters written by mythological gures.
17
The statue of an ancient king of Thebes. Shelleys sonnet Ozymandias includes these lines:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!
18
Schwerer als die schwersten Taktkaliber der alten Musikwelt. Continuing the military analogy
from the previous paragraphs, Lenz is comparing the various musical meters with the bores of
rearms. In the Fifth Symphony Beethoven inverts the normal order of metric calibersthe rst
movement is an allegro con brio in 2/4, the nale an allegro in common time, but does not change the
normal relationship between them, of heavy to light. The heaviest caliber of the ancient musical
world refers to meters that are reckoned in terms of long note values, as used for instance in Renais-
sance choral polyphony and certain Baroque pieces composed in an ancient style.
19
The walls fortifying Mycaenae, or Tirnys, built by the race of one-eyed giants.
lingering, stepping outside the metric bounds, Beethoven has indeed in-
dicated a rhetorical pause. It is only at this point that the allegro actually
begins, as the master himself regarded the rst ve bars merely as an in-
troduction. In this way, however, he abandons metrical symmetry in
favour of freedom of movement.
By rhetorical pause Marx is simply describing, in somewhat cumbersome
terms, the traditional interpretation of the passage, according to which the
lengthening of the note d by a bar merely indicates that it is dwelt on for a while
longer. If the rst half note also has a fermata, then one must recognize that the
dwelling upon d cannot be measured so precisely, and therefore that the masters
intentions cannot, at least, be sought by recourse to this notation. If one accepts
this, then one should not insist upon the traditional interpretation, let alone that
this interpretation embraces the grounds for the necessity of a rounding-o as a
four-bar phrase. If this interpretation adhered fundamentally to the regularity of
a four-bar organization and actually embraced internal fermatas (as, for example,
at bar 6 in the rst movement of Beethovens Op. 31, No. 3, or at bar 20 in the rst
movement of Op. 111), then it would still beyond the power of a ve-bar notation
of this sort, with two fermatas related dierently [to the phrase as a whole], as we
nd at the beginning of the symphony, to allow us to recognize such a notation
as one that aims at regularity. There is, therefore, nothing to Marxs phrase
rhetorical pause. How modest, after all, is the so-called traditional interpreta-
tion: not only in the beginning was the Word, but also at the end!
Wagner writes, in ber das Dichten und Komponieren (1879):
20
To be sure, each one of them wanted to bring into the world a truly gen-
uine melody, one of those Beethovenian forms that seem to confront us
with all the limbs of a living body. But of what use was all their skill in se-
rious composition [ars musicae severioris], or even in joyful composition
[musicae jocosae], if the very form of this melody was certainly not to be
revealed to them, let alone composed? Now, everything that we nd writ-
ten by them looks so very like a Beethovenian musical form that it often
appears to be copied from his work. And yet their most artful assemblages
fail to achieve an eect that even approaches that of this almost ludi-
crously insignicant idea (the rst bar, with upbeat, is quoted here),
which actually says nothing whatever about art but nevertheless has the
power, at every concert, suddenly to rouse an ever and utterly bored au-
dience from lethargy to ecstasy.
Let us desist from invoking the audiences ecstasy as a form of evidence. (It
is strange enough that this form of evidence comes straight from Wagners
mouth; and yet it is perhaps not so remarkable after all, considering that he hails
from the world of opera.) But one must surely begin to wonder when Wagner
takes merely bar 1 and its upbeat as his example of a truly genuine melody: do
they signify to him merely a part standing for the whole [pars pro toto], or was
he thinking of them as a whole, even without all the limbs of a living body?
Should we follow Wagner, it may be asked in passing, in believing that these two
bars still retain their meaning for the symphony merely because he, too, believed
in the story of Fate knocking (see Tonwille 1, p. 31/i, pp. 2729), despite the fact
that they say nothing whatever about art? Should the meaning come merely
from Wagners personal belief, or from the two bars themselves? And if from the
latter, in what should it then consist?
But the most disastrous mistake lies in the contrasting of this almost ludi-
crously insignicant succession of tones with the most artful contrivances (of
the classicizing composers). It arms only that Wagner was truly so rash as to re-
gard Beethoven as a generally simple artistsimpler than his successorson ac-
count of such opening bars as are found in the Fifth Symphony, and to overlook
the fact that the simplicity of genius is, in the highest sense, far more artistically
artistic than all the artistry of non-genius, and that its highest art can unfold only
in the course of development, in the process of synthesiswhither, unfortu-
nately, no ear can follow. (It is, however, the same with Wagners followers: how
incomparably high he stands above all his imitators, higher in his apparent sim-
plicity than they in all their most artful assemblages.) I underscore Wagners
mistake here in particular on account of its tragic consequences. Thus, for ex-
ample, Berlioz, because he believed that the entire wonder of Beethovens eect
(rather like Wagner) was contained in the simple triadic unfolding of his princi-
ple themes, felt himself induced to follow Beethoven in this respect; which be-
stowed upon him no more than the most feeble, misconceived, unspeakably awk-
ward and {19} childish melodies.
21
Wagner and Berlioz should never have been
Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)
189
20
This essay was originally published in the Bayreuther Bltter in July 1879. An English transla-
tion, On Poetry and Composition, appears in Richard Wagners Prose Works, trans. William Ashton
Ellis, vol. 6 (London: Routledge, 1897).
21
[S]As I shall conrm in greater detail in my essay Niedergang der Kompositionskunst [De-
cline of the Art of Composition], Mendelssohns judgment of Berlioz remains valid: To begin with
allowed to overlook, for example, that in the opening theme of Beethovens Third
Symphony the arpeggiation of the tonic chord has run its course as early as the
fth bar (not counting the introductory chords): so where has the simple triad
got to? Could this turn of events have occurred to anyone, or only to a genius?
And would anyone have hit upon a way of developing this themedespite the
novelty of that turn, whose resolution is still awaitedso successfully to its log-
ical conclusion in the space of twelve bars, as Beethoven was able to do? And so
it is with the Fifth Symphony: indeed, Beethovens mastery here lies not in the
rst two bars alone but in the continuation, in this manner of continuation.
Riemann explains the development section of the Fifth Symphony in his
Katechismus der Kompositionslehre (Leipzig, 1889), pp. 134. After providing a
simple account of bars 13579, he writes on p. 137:
Until this point we have neither a mixing up of fragments of the two
theme nor a colorful array of modulations. On the contrary, what makes
this passage sound like a development is the predominance of the sub-
dominant and minor dominant keys, instead of the home key, so that the
principal theme is disguised, so to speak, and appears to drift.
No serious attempt at all, then, is made to determine the sections of the de-
velopment. Riemann had indeed said only the following about bars 130: Now
a rather large section based on the rst themesix bars of itis developed in
F minor, instead of C minor. When two more sections follow, each based on the
same content, he merely speaks of a remainder:
The character of the development section is more focussed in the re-
mainder, which must be understood as a further attempt to introduce the
second theme. But this gets no further than its beginning, i.e. the head
motive (bars 17982 are quoted here). . . . In place of the character-
istic, sensuous motive of the second theme (bars 6366 are quoted here),
the powerful cry is met with a spinning out of the anapaest motive
( ) formed by trimming an eighth note o the upbeat of the prin-
cipal motive, which had been prominent in the previous phrases:
22
Obviously this passage has, moreover, been read incorrectly, and not merely
because it is in disagreement with the Urlinie but also because it contradicts Bee-
thovens score, according to which a
2
in bar 181 actually rises to b
2
(see the rst
violins in bar 187), and likewise d
2
in bar 189 to e
2
(rst violins in bar 195). Rie-
mann continues:
Again we have a complete musical sentence, but one that consists of two
half-sentences, each set in a dierent key, which does not amount to a
completely rounded statement (i.e., a period) but rather a single-track
progression from the fth-related G major to the parallel key of C major.
23
The continuation also proceeds in the same direction, toward the sub-
dominant, and indeed is increasingly restricted to the head motive of the
second theme, which nally leads to a play of orchestral colors from one
note to the next (in Fig. 3, the notes played by the wind instruments are
beamed upward, those played by the strings are beamed downward):
tonwi lle 5
190
he actually made me feel quite melancholy, because he judges everyone else so cleverly and coldly and
bettingly; because he is so entirely rational and is utterly oblivious to the utter stupidity that sur-
rounds him on all sides.
Elsewhere: Being mad and outrageous and rude and clumsy can at times be cheerfully amusing;
but this is so dull and lifeless! Elsewhere: His orchestration is so unspeakably slovenly, such a con-
fused scribbling, that one must wash ones hands after each time one holds one of his scores. Else-
where: . . . a true caricature without a spark of talent. And if Wagner rebukes Mendelssohn in the
above-cited writing because, when asked about Berliozs music, he is supposed to have answered:
Everyone tries to compose as well as he can, that is at least a less objectionable answer than the
highly convoluted remarks by which Wagner sought to shake Berlioz o his coat-tails.
Niedergang der Kompositionskunst, a long unpublished essay, is preserved in le 31 of the
Oster Collection.
22
The exclamation marks in Fig. 2 are, characteristically, Schenkers additions.
23
Von der Seitenwechseltonart G-dur zur Quintwechseltonart C-dur. Riemann uses the term Wech-
seltonart to mean a key that involves a change of mode. Since he reckons major chords from the root
{20} That is, the rst sentence misses out its fth bar; the second reveals
two groupings in the form of a triplet of bars, the second of which suers
a remarkable abbreviation (omission of a beat), as indicated at the NB,
so that it tears in with its violent upbeat of three eighth-notes (instead of
, , , ).
Here, too, the entire harmonic and rhythmic process has been incorrectly
heard and explained. Riemanns embarrassment expresses itself, moreover, in his
complete failure to show how Beethoven nds his way from an apparent B
,
minor
back to C minor, and in this passage there is really nothing left for him to do than
speak of a a play between contrasting orchestral colors from one note to the next.
In this respect, he misleads himself and his readers, by excluding from his dis-
cussion the content of the passage, which does not accord with his understand-
ing of it. He concludes his explanation of the development section as follows:
The continuation is even more irregular; the rhythm seems to break
down completely, in order to make the reprise of the rst theme all the
more animated when it is enters immediately afterward:
That is, between the second and third bars
24
we have a triplet of beats
( ), between the second and fourth bars a triplet of bars (triplet of
motives). The consequent phrase proceeds in a regular fashion to its con-
clusion, always underpinned by the dominant minor ninth of C. But the
main theme returns, in a manner recalling the beginning of this eight-bar
group, a beat too early (it has been shortened from , , ,
-
). The fol-
lowing keys have been traversed: F minorC minor (lightly touched on,
without cadencing on the tonic)G minor (the key most broadly devel-
oped)F minorB
,
minorG
,
minor (enharmonically equivalent to
F

minor)G major. The keys are thus all rather closely related; the most
distant appear just before the recapitulation.
I shall pass over his fanciful ideas on meter, which in the absence of a true
understanding of the content must remain worthless. (The passages that I have
omitted from his discussion are concerned exclusively with questions of meter.)
But I cannot fail to point out where matters will lead if passing chords are taken
for important harmonies, or even for keys. Instead of saying all rather closely re-
lated (keys); the most distant appear just before the recapitulation, it would have
supported Riemanns cause if he had explained more carefully how these sup-
posed keys are driven forward. He preferred instead to throw in a few words that,
as is only too plain, renounce any responsibility for correctness.
It is also Riemann who contributed the music analyses to Thayers Beethoven
biography. The analysis of the Fifth Symphony, in volume III, pp. 90 of the sec-
ond edition,
25
begins with surprisingly boldness: {21}
The signicance that the motive with fermatas, placed at the beginning of
the rst movement, is supposed to have for the content of the entire work
has been exaggerated out of all proportion. According to an anecdote re-
lated by Schindler, Beethoven is supposed to have said: Thus Fate knocks
at the door! And, trusting Schindlers authority, Lenz began his fanciful
account of the symphony with the heading: A tragedy of fate for the
stages of the world. Battle and Victory. . . . People have gone so far as to
take the four notes as the theme of the rst movement, and even for the
symphony as a whole, and to marvel in amazement at all that Beethoven
developed from them. That is surely a mistake.
Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)
191
up, minor chords from the fth down, the Seitenwechseltonart of C minor (ge
,
c
0
g in Riemanns
system of harmonic analysis) is reckoned by taking the note from which the chord is reckoned (g) and
building a major triad upon it (gb

d g

), which is G major. The Quintwechseltonart is derived

by starting with the same reckoning note (g), nding the fth by reckoning downward from this note
(i.e., c), and then building a major chord upon this note (ceg c

), which is C major.
24
Riemann is counting the bars in accordance with Fig. 4.
25
Alexander Wheelock Thayers pioneering Beethoven biography had a complex publication his-
tory. The original three-volume Ludwig van Beethovens Leben stops at the year 1816; Thayers associ-
ate, Hermann Deiters, completed a further volume, taking Beethovens life to 1823. Riemann not only
completed the life in a fth volume but also revised the earlier volumes, incorporating interpretative
remarks on the music. The second (i.e., revised) edition of volume 3 was published in 1911 and reis-
sued in 1922 as part of the complete biography. The standard English version, Thayers Life of Beetho-
ven, edited and revised by Elliot Forbes (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1964), contains
none of Riemanns musical interpolations.

But what Riemann proposes in opposition to the general view is entirely

wrong:
The earliest sketches reveal nothing yet of this headline-like dispatch,
which is thoroughly reminiscent of the mottoes in the arias of the later
Venetian and Neapolitan opera composers around 1700. Perhaps these
bars were tacked onto the beginning at the very last moment, as Beetho-
ven notoriously did in the Adagio of Op. 106 (see Wegeler and Ries, No-
tizen, p. 149).
26
The sketches, however, show precisely the opposite: see Fig. 4 in the rst part
of this essay (Tonwille 1). For just as bars 14 of that Allegrothat these repre-
sented a complete motivic entity from the start was, likewise, explained earlier
must have already existed, if in consequence the motivic repetitions were brought
into play, then likewise bars 14 (with upbeat) of the nal version, which are
identical to the sketch (apart from the fermatas and the underlying harmonic
progression), must have unquestionably been in place if a variation of them
should have been introduced from bar 5 onward, for example, the broad expan-
sion of the two half notes, e
,
and d in bars 6 and 11, and the ascending register
transfer in bars 15. Thus, it is merely the fermatas, which were added later as in-
terior fermatas, and not the content that is new. For this reason, one can speak
neither of a headline-like dispatch nor of something perhaps . . . tacked onto
the beginning at the very last moment, as Riemann would have it. He continues:
The opening motive is not a theme, as is the case with the introductory
motives of the nales of the piano sonatas Op. 10, No. 3, and Op. 31, No. 3,
whose melodic steps continuously play a role in the musical development;
here, however, only the rhythmic aspect of the upbeat, which takes the
form of three eighth notes, which governs the entire movement, remains
constant.
The world of rhythm is, however, an altogether dierent world of its own. For
all that Riemann now hears the constant rhythm (and yet how easy that is for
him), he completely overlooks the wonderfully varied energy of the fourth-
progression and fth-progression motives as viewed from the standpoint of the
Urlinie, and the drive of the diminution-motives in the narrower sense (for in-
stance the two half notes, expressed by eight notes, or the tiniest motivic cell of a
leaping third expressed by just four notes), which is all that is important if the con-
tent is to be claried in a productive way. Riemanns inadequacy may be explained
by referring to his false reading of the melodic line of the opening bars, thus:
instead of:
by which the expansion of the half-note motion that leads the melody (see the
lower bracket) and the ascending register transfer (see the arrow) are illustrated.
He thus ignores the meaning of the broken chord and the way in which it is
brought about here by the exchange of instruments (second violins, violas, rst
violins). He is so far o the mark that he loses all sense of proportion and oers
the following historical pontication:
This is basically nothing other than an appropriation of the familiar tech-
nique used by the old keyboard and organ masters of the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries to give life to harmonic massiveness. We still en-
counter it frequently in Bachs music, e.g. in the F major prelude from
Book II of the Well-Tempered Clavier:
{22}However, in this passage the melody should be read as follows:
tonwi lle 5
192
26
Riemann is referring to the rst bar of the slow movement of the Hammerklavier Sonata,
which must have been added at a very late compositional stage. It was sent to Ferdinand Ries in Lon-
don in a letter of 16 June 1819 (Beethoven: Briefwechsel: Gesamtausgabe, letter 1309), three months after
he had compiled the main batch of proof corrections to Clementis English edition of the sonata, and
only several weeks prior to its publication.
But Riemann exceeds all the boundaries of permissibility when, in consolidating
his position, he adds:
We encounter a radical application of this technique, again with a speci-
cally pianistic intention, in Clementis Gradus ad Parnassum of 1817, in
which Beethovens very rhythmic motive is the basis of the B major etude:
This is, surely, the worstthe most far-fetchedexample of a claim for thematic
resemblance!
Concerning the second subject, even Riemann denies the substantive identity
of bars 5963 and bars 14:
Immediately before it begins, the metric grouping of the rst theme reap-
pears, its harmonic progression outlining a half cadence:
Grove is extremely misleading when he calls these bars an expanded (?!)
form of the main theme. In reality they are nothing more than a repeti-
tion, in E
,
major, of the half cadence proceeding from C minor directly to
a B
,
major chord. This is indeed the case, as one can see quite easily by
counting o the bars; the rst two bars provide the conclusion (full ca-
dence), although they are [metrically] reinterpreted:
But in the following sentences Riemann caps all his previous explanations:
An analysis of the symphony is, unfortunately, not possible here, but also
not necessary. Anyone who has spoken about Beethoven having broken
the shackles of musical form should retract those remarks outright. From
the most varied points of view it has for a long time been shown that,
even in the C minor symphony, everything proceeds in a nice, orderly
fashion, that sonata form is strictly obeyed, that the order of modulations
sticks to well-trodden paths. All that has been erroneously said about the
work can be blamed on the identication of the four notes of the intro-
ductory motive as the theme. Anyone who fails to rid himself of this no-
tion, and is unable to recognize the great line of thematic development,
will of course get lost in a labyrinth.
Of the great line of thematic development speaks a Riemann who has al-
ready stumbled over broken chords and is unable to oer a single correct idea
about this symphonic movement.
{23} On performance, one nds the following footnote: Of course the second
fermata should be held longer than the rst, as Beethoven has indicated clearly
enough by extending the [second] d to two bars. Nothing more need be said
about this. Elsewhere he writes:
We should very probably believe Schindler, despite Nottebohms view to
the contrary, that Beethoven wanted the two introductory motives played
slowly, and in fact on account of the fermatas. It is well-known that fer-
matas generally presuppose a ritartando that prepares the standstill. If I
remember correctly, Blow always took these bars in such a way that the
four notes were clearly audible as two times two:
A ritardando comprising just a few notes always takes this form, so
that the smallest motives are emphasized.
To the remarks expressed above on performance, once again, nothing more
need be said.
Kretzschmar, in his Fhrer duch den Concertsaal, vol. 1 (on symphonies and
suites), second edition (1890), begins with a brief account of the well-known his-
torical facts. He continues:
This extraordinary work, Beethovenian through and through, is one
which the master also worked on with extreme intensity, and numbers
among those works that occupied him for an unusually long period (only
the Mass in D and the Ninth Symphony are comparable). It is perhaps the
one work whose nal form embraces all of its creators intentions, with-
out anything left over.
Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)
193
Should it not be assumed that only the purest understanding of the content
has inspired Kretzschmar to speak in such away of the complete fulllment of the
masters intentions?
The representation [of ideas] in the C minor symphony is passionate and
naturally true, unied by necessity, and therefore so apparently simple
and clear that, despite the magnitude of its content, it has become a pop-
ular work.
From these words, too, it must follow that Krezschmar has seen through the
apparent simplicity of the artwork to its most profound basis, where it extracts
the uids of eternal life from the roots of its own necessities. How astonishing,
then, are the words that immediately follow:
When it comes to determining the content of the C minor symphony,
who would dare to say they could translate this into words, without error?
Beethoven is supposed to have given the rst movement the motto: Thus
Fate knocks at the door. But we emphasize the word supposed. It is
characteristic of musical art-works to awaken the listeners fantasy, indeed
to lead them to conceive specic images. But it is presumptuous to regard
and proclaim one of these images as the only correct one. The number
of named quantities that correspond to a single algebraic formula is, in
general, not small: ratio multiplex veritas una!
27
But the general course of
the imagination, which we call the basic idea, is so clearly marked in the
C minor symphony that it must be named: it is the path from darkness
to light, per aspera ad astra, the path so often sought out in symphonic
art and so much more often missed!
Hermeneutic humanity. To start with, a peal of sonorous words, as if the
hermeneutist had picked all the fruits from the tree of permitted genuine knowl-
edge; and then immediately thereafter the languageone that, most certainly,
was never spoken in the paradise of knowledgewhich consists of the withered
verbal foliage of those certain phrase-shrubs that grow in hermeneutic allot-
ments. And now turning once more toward apparently genuine knowledge, he
instructs the reader:
The rst movement is one of the most shining armations of a maxim
that has been exhaustively tested in all the arts : when a strong spirit takes
on tasks of increasing technical diculty, so its imagination also grows,
its intellect is sharpened, and its ideas grow in might, strength, and rich-
ness. Considered from the technical point of view, the rst movement of
the C minor symphony is one of the most audacious artistic creations: for
its essential material consists of the four notes that make up the lapidary,
frightening opening of the work (bar 1 with the upbeat is quoted here).
According to Czerny, Beethoven is supposed to have got this idea from a
yellowhammer in the forest. To be sure, the movement has a second
theme (bars 5966 are quoted here). But in the larger psychological pro-
cess this theme provides only a temporary means of appeasement, and
the combinations of the original motive take no notice of it as they stride
ahead. Even at its rst appearance it was greeted with threats from those
four unruly notes, then pursued, and nally pushed into the raging
whirlpool. Older composers, too, like Bach have at times developed an
entire piece from a single, short motive. But these were preludes and rel-
atively short pieceshere {24} we have an utterly colossal movement,
about ve hundred bars long! Furthermore, this work of art is at the same
time the highest accomplishment in the passionate style that perhaps the
world of instrumental music, and most certainly the world of orchestral
music, has yet producedan accomplishment that may never be equalled
in future, certainly never overtaken. A detailed description of the course
of the movement cannot be undertaken, and is probably not even neces-
sary. After so many touching and shattering attempts, the end returns to
the beginning. It is the image of a gripping battle that is fought to the end.
Whether our imagination locates its scene in the human soul or in na-
ture, its phases are reproduced with the most fearful clarity. The crucial
midpoint consists of the passage in the development section in which the
initial motive of the second subject (bars 18790 are quoted here) tries to
intervene decisively and suers a despairing, painful heros death.
It is incomprehensible that Kretzschmar could suddenly repeat that a detailed
explanation is probably not even necessary, since he had earlier declared that
the presentation of its content was only apparently simple and clear. By this he
was surely intending to refer to the depth of the work, which was not generally
accessible? So where is this depth? And was it at all necessary, then, to bring into
the picture the four notes and the second theme, which will provide illumi-
nation to all, even to those have not feeling for art? The contradiction can only
tonwi lle 5
194
27
A multiple of arguments are contained within one truth.
explained by assuming that Kretzschmar has confused popularity for under-
standing. He says further:
For many critics the C minor symphony is the high point not merely of
Beethovens oeuvre, but of all instrumental music. At any rate it is one of
those works of art about whose power all are agreed. Even those for who
have no feeling for art cultivate a measure of respect for it. Everyone feels
that an unusual spirit speaks from this symphony. Something titanic lies
in its anger, in its spite, in its pain and even in the exhilaration that ows
from it at the end. One could become afraid of this artwork in many
places, were it not for the fact that cheerful spirits, too, emerge from the
background of its gloomy fantasies. It would remain for us an other-
worldly, merely awesome work if it did not also cast its eye toward both
uncountable rmaments and intimate corners of Earth, where we are
greeted by envoys of desire and of humor, and by those human senti-
ments that proclaim that good will, in the end, prevail.
Grove, in Beethoven und seine neun Symphonien,
28
comments on the main
theme as follows: We earlier quoted the subject in its original formGrove
means the sketches taken from Nottebohmand now give it in the form in
which it was nally used. (Bars 110 are quoted here.)
By principal theme, Grove means only bar 1 with upbeat:
From a short motive comprising four notes arises a symphonic move-
ment approximately ve hundred bars long, one of the most passionate
movements that we possess! And this music does not even allow us for a
moment to imagine what immeasurable technical capability was neces-
sary for its composition.
The rst fty-eight bars of the work consist almost entirely of repeti-
tions of the principal theme, whose rhythmic construction and interval-
lic structure are subject only to slight variation. (Bars 2537 and 44 49
are quoted here.)
The meaning of these repetitions, however, is something on which Grove
cannnot enlighten us; he is satised merely with hearing repetitions.
The key of C minor is adhered to with iron rmness, then suddenly both
theme and tonality are changed. The tonality leads, after a short modula-
tion, to the most closely related major key, E
,
major, and the horns im-
press it upon the ear, fortissimo, with the extended form of the main
theme. (Bars 5785 are quoted here.) E
,
major now governs the tonality
from this point to the end of the 124-bar exposition; and so the passion,
though as ever strongly roused and in spite of being accompanied by the
deant rhythmic beating of the four blows, appears somewhat muted in
comparison to the rst group, in C minor.
Groves words, as they are expressed,
29
could lead us to believe that he views
the motto introducing the second group (bars 6063 with upbeat), which from
his standpoint is also an extended main theme, as part of the modulation, since
he expressly assigns the beginning of the second group to the entry of the violins.
More serious violations of the text, and a greater number of them, are hardly
imaginable. {25}
Everything changes at a stroke at the rst note of the development. The
principal theme returns and provokes a breathtaking ght to the nish.
There is no place here for the gentle tune of the second theme, but the ex-
tended version of the principal motive, which acts as an introduction to
it, takes part in the unfolding that is about to take place. The development
begins with the following bars. (Bars 12545 are quoted here.)
As early as the second bar, one is struck by the D
,
, which resounds in
the ear with particular force. A new theme is even introduced: it pushes up
amid the downwards threatening motives and, after rst being placed in
the lower voice, surfaces in the upper voice in a passage of double counter-
point. While everything around it is bent on struggle and annihilation, this
Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)
195
28
George Grove, Beethoven and His Nine Symphonies (London: Novello, 1896). Groves monograph
on the Beethoven symphonies, a popular text at the turn of the century, is the only original English
writing that Schenker commented on in any of his critiques of the secondary music literature. The year
given by Schenker is that of rst and second English editions; his source, however, is the 1906 German
edition whose text, prepared by Max Hehemann, is only a free paraphrase of the original. For the ex-
tracts that Schenker has chosen to comment on, I have made a fresh translation of Hehemanns text.
29
Groves original text reads as follows (p. 150): Of modulation there is hardly any, the key does
not change till the end of the passage, and then (bar 59) both mood and key suddenly alter, the key
after a little hesitation to E at, the mood to a winning pathos, and after a loud preface by the horns,
as if to emphasise the change as much as possible, the second subject enters in the voice of the vio-
lins, like the sweet protest of a woman against the fury of her oppressor. . . . The recurrence of the
quavers in the accompaniment keeps the rhythm of the rst subject present, but the music practically
remains in E at to the very end of the rst section, 124 bars, and the fortissimo passages which occur
have nothing of the savage character of their predecessors.
theme rings out, although its stepwise motion conveys the sounds of woe
and despair. (Bars 14953 are quoted here.) In the further course of this
remarkably short development section, the lengthened form of the prin-
cipal theme now assumes a special signicance. For its sake, the struggle
burns at its brightest; the opposing forces clash violently. (Bars 18092 are
quoted here.) We have reached the climax of this gigantic struggle, and
now the most turbulent section in the entire movement begins. With the
most frightening force, the main theme strives after victory; now it grows
short of breath, exhausted . . . (Bars 195212 are quoted here.)
The breaths become increasingly quieter; they threaten to be extin-
guished altogether. And yetonce more all the forces are harnessed, but
in vain: the end has come. And the main theme is hammered out fortis-
simo, above the entire orchestra. A short eight-bar transition, and we ar-
rive at the recapitulation.
Here, too, Grove designates bars 6063 as the extended version of the princi-
pal motive, which acts as an introduction (to the second theme). It is plain that
the words accompanying this passage fail to shed light, and the music examples
also are unable to clarify the contents. But do any of these words oer help: a
new theme . . . downwards threatening motives . . . struggle and annihilation . . .
sounds of woe and despair . . . further development . . . struggle, oppositions . . .
climax of this gigantic struggle . . . exhaustion, and so on? If the composer no
longer knew, for instance, what kind of succession of notes enters there, threatens,
struggles, pleads, develops, exhausts, there would certainly have been no piece of
music. But how amusing it is, in the midst of such meaninglessness, to nd Groves
ear suddenly perking up at the neighbor note in bar 130 (he missed the one back
in bar 7!), while all other musical events pass him by, so to speak, unnamed!
For the recapitulation, we read the following:
This section is not content with repeating the material of the exposition,
but rather changes the details of its features, both thematically and with
regard to scoring. The most signicant of the dierences between the two
sections is a passage of the most intense poetry, which might be compared
to the Allegretto of the C sharp minor sonata since it stands as a ower
between two areas of wasteland.
30
It is the oboe phrase, performed in a
free rhythm, which is placed between the two statements of the main
theme. (Bar 268 is quoted here.) At the end of the reprise, the key of
C Major is introduced, in sharp contrast with what has come before; and
immediately afterwards the coda takes up a new theme that drives for-
ward energetically. (Bars 424 39 are quoted here.) But this theme, too, is
silenced, and the movement ends, exhausted, with the motive with which
it had so deantly begun.
Finding only darkness by its antiquated modes of perception and presenta-
tion, Groves intellect could not possibly have been brighter in the moment in
which he wrote the following:
Form and content are, moreover, so inseparably merged that perfection
has become reality.
And elsewhere:
In the C minor symphony, the spirit that had signaled the dawn of Ro-
manticism in the literature of the period now stirs once more.
He is nothing more than a windbag, and sounds so simple-minded when,
dipping into his supply of verbal tricks, he intones the following Prize Song to
Beethoven:
31
If all art is a representationand surely it must be a representation of the
idea in the mind of the artisthere we have the most concise represen-
tation that has ever been accomplished in music. No, it is no disobedience
to law, it is the striking and original nature of the thoughts, the direct
manner in which they are expressed, and the extraordinary energy with
which they are enforced and reinforced, and driven into the hearer, hot
from the mind of the author, with an incandescence which is still as bright
and as scorching as the day they were forged on his anvil. {26} [. . .] One
often nds that the rst movement [of this symphony] is more accessible
to listeners than the corresponding movements of the other symphonies.
The expression reaches the mind in a more immediate manner, with less
of the medium or machinery of music about it than in those great works;
and yet this simplicity contains the greatest victory that any symphonist
tonwi lle 5
196
31
For the last of Schenkers extracts from this book, I have reproduced substantial portions of the
original English, as Hehemann took fewer liberties with it. The ellipses indicate omissions from
Groves text.
30
The reference is to the middle movement of the Moonlight Sonata, a minuet (or scherzo) and
trio set in parallel key of D
,
major.
has ever won over the material of his art. We have here no prominent
counterpoint or contrivance, not even the fugato which was so dear to Bee-
thoven; [. . .] Here, a wonder of thematic development has been achieved.
Mller-Reuter has written a study on the rhythmic meaning of the principal
motive of the rst movement for the Musikalisches Wochenblatt (1898),
32
which
begins as follows:
The second occurrence of the principal motive (bars 3, 4 and 5) is inter-
preted as a transposed repetition of the rst (bars 12), without a change
of rhythmic meaning. But Beethovens notations are signicantly dierent
from one another and point to a dierence in rhythmic meaning: all the
more so in that these dierences are preserved throughout the movement.
Mller-Reuter compares bars 16, 2224, 12528 (beginning of the develop-
ment), 24852 and 47781 and calls the two-bar form (bars 12) Version A
and the three-bar form (bars 35) Version B, and nally identies bars 1258
as a third form of the motive: . He then continues:
Should the half note that precedes the second fermata indicate a longer
duration for the held note? That question can be answered in the nega-
tive, since a half note, taken at a tempo of 108 half notes per minute,
would amount to far too short a value (a fraction of a second) for it to be
perceived as a lengthening . . . so one must accept that there is a rhythmic
dierence between versions A and B, and try to work out what it is.
From the repeat of the exposition, Mller-Reuter concludes that bar 1 is met-
rically weak and bar 2 is strong. He also knows that the fermatas are not, a pri-
ori, an unambiguous sign of a metrically strong bar. Nevertheless, he allows him-
self inexplicably to be led to the conclusion, drawn from an analogy, that the
remaining fermatas likewise indicate metrically strong bars, as he explains:
From this it would follow that the rst bar of version B has an entirely dif-
ferent meaning than that of version A. One can work out the accentua-
tion by counting backwards from second fermatataking this, of course,
to be metrically strong. The surprising result is that version B has the op-
posite rhythmic meaning from version A:
Such an arbitrary and supercial line of argument leads the author to make
further mistakes. For example, he views the lower voice that follows in bars 125
28 as analogous to bars 35 (version B) while at the same time (!) the upper
voice that leads is analogous to bars 12 (version A), from which he deduces that
there are actually four dierent rhythmic patterns:
All in all, he concludes:
In A and C the bar with eighth notes is weak, the held note is strong; con-
versely, in B and D the bar of eighth notes is strong and the held note is
weak. B is thus not a repeat of A, with the same rhythmic meaning, but
rather a continuation of it with the opposite meaning. {27} As they occur
in the piece, the ve bars in Fig. 15 make up an entity: an entity compris-
ing two halves with rhythmically opposed meaning.
What a pity that the notion of bars 15 as an entity is spoiled by so many
mistakes! But it is even more surprising that Mller-Reuter, in the midst of argu-
ments whose utmost concern for objectivity is certainly beyond doubt, sudden
claims:
Now Beethovens motto, Thus Fate knocks at the door, takes on an en-
tirely new, much deeper meaning. Unexpectedly, Fate barges in; unexpect-
edly and contrary to all presupposition, the rhythm adopts version B. The
strong beat, normally the site of rest (as in A), now becomes the site of
movement; the weak beat, normally the site of movement, now becomes
the site of rest. The eect of the rhythmic arrangement in B is frightening
and incredible: thus Fate knocks at the door!
Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)
197
32
[S]Theodor Mller-Reuter, ber die rhythmische Bedeutung des Hauptmotivs im ersten Satze
der C-moll-Symphonie von Beethoven, Muskalisches Wochenblatt (1898), nos. 2729.
Turning to the question of implementation, Mller-Reuter now wants to
demonstrate to the ears of the listener the dierent eects of Version A and B. He
sides with Blow in favor of measuring the length of the held notes in terms of
beats, and argues against Wagner: The rhythmic grouping and division of A and
B will be ruined by an arbitrary lengthening of the held notes. Following Blow,
he goes so far as to sketch the passage in accordance with his interpretation, rec-
ommending that in any event the movement should be conducted alla breve:
In the same study, Mller-Reuter also discusses bars 196228 in the develop-
ment section. He argues:
The alla breve illustration will also clarify the phrase structure of bars 196
228 in the development. At one point Beethoven has merged downbeat
and upbeat with each other . . . the uneven number of bars (thirty-three)
informs us that somewhere things are not right. In the bracketed bars 214
16 [see Fig. 17], the two-bar organization is breached. The twenty-rst bar
of the passage (bar 216) is metrically both weak and strong: weak, as the
completion of nineteenth bar; strong (in a relative sense), as the start of the
inversion of the motive. With regard to its notation, and the way in which
the movement is conducted alla breve, one must either add a bar of 2/4 or
join such a bar to a bar of alla breve to form a bar of 3/2:
The shift in rhythmic emphasis cannot begin as early as the second half
of the seventh bar of the passage in question, bars 2089;
33
the melodic
and harmonic progressions tell us as much. The F

minor chord marks

the start of motivic inversion and melodic and harmonic stagnation,
which Beethoven moreover marks piano.
Weingartner, in his Ratschlge fr die Auhrungen der Symphonien Beetho-
vens (1890), writes the following on the rst movement of the Fifth Symphony:
34
Above all it was the apparently irregular bar interpolated just before the
second fermata that gave rise to controversy. The puzzle can be solved,
however, in a very simple way, if every two bars are taken as one. . . .This
explanation, which no one has to my knowledge yet expressed in quite
the same way, is applicable to all the fermata passages, that is, all the places
in this movement where the above-mentioned bar is interpolated before
a fermata.
{28} For sake of a better overall picture, I bring together in Fig. 18 all the mu-
sical illustrations introduced by Weingartner to support his arguments in the
course of the discussion:
tonwi lle 5
198
33
Mller-Reuter is reckoning bars 196228 alla breve.
34
Weingartners book was published in English as On the Performance of Beethovens Symphonies,
trans. Jessie Crosland (London: Breitkopf & Hrtel, 1908).
If Weingartner fails to see that Fig. 18 1) and 2) already contradict each other, that
is only because he is not aware of the equality of the principal motive in the two
instances. Of course his interpretation in 1) was expressly restricted to all the fer-
mata passages with the interpolated bar. It is not until 3) that the contradiction
occurs to him:
If we examine carefully the point at which the exposition is repeated, we
shall nd that the rst two bars of the main theme have a dierent value
when they are repeated and that the original rhythmic conditions are not
re-established until the following bars. Thus, if each respective pair of
bars is taken together, then starting from the third bar before the repeat
sign we arrive at the picture shown in Fig. 18 3). The dierence between
1) and 3) is noteworthy, in that here we have a 2/4 bar that causes diculty
with the process of making two bars into one. The theme, in so far as it is
written without the bar before the fermata, thus appears to have a twofold
rhythmic character. This twofold character will be conrmed later unam-
biguously, thus for the time being we shall be content with stating the fact.
So Weingartner has explained that the formula given in 1) holds good for all
the fermata passages, and now it no longer applies to the same bar when it is
simply repeated! {29} For now the rhythmic character is supposed to have
changed, depending upon whether the opening bars are heard for the rst time
or, upon repetition, for the second. How can this be possible? And what are we to
make of it when we merely read the score?
In 4), Weingartner actually sees that the rhythmic regularity is not inter-
rupted, but is unable to take up this sign of the truth. Even the result at 5) hasnt
yet taught him better, for he merely says:
Note that the principal theme at the start of the recapitulation possesses
the same rhythmic value as it had at the beginning of the movement, if
two bars are taken together as illustrated above in Fig. 18 5).
It does not occur to him, then, that a few bars earlier (bars 22831) he had
likewise ascribed the same rhythmic character to the theme, although there it
did not display any fermatas. Fig. 18 6) nally gives him an opportunity to sum
things up:
Thus we see that the principal theme now once again has the same rhyth-
mic character as it had at the repeat of the exposition. Thus its rst ap-
pearance agrees with the recapitulation, whereas the repetition agrees
with the coda. The two bars, however, which apparently cannot be taken
together as one, do in fact complement each other mutually and thus can
also be considered as a single bar. In this respect, too, the entire move-
ment is beautifully proportioned.
According to this, the rst appearance would have to agree with the reca-
pitulation but not with the repeat (?!), and the Coda would or would not have its
equivalent, depending upon whether or not the repeat were taken. What a pitiful
display of errant thinking, verily the epitome of the Western style [westlich an-
mutende Ausgeburt], is this famous conductors notion of a double character for
the theme; and what a pathetic line of reasoning over what amounts to nothing
more than an upbeat! And yet how easy it was, right from the repeat of the ex-
position, to deduce the upbeat character of bar 1 and thus to gain the key to four-
bar construction of the motive, in which the dierences among all its manifesta-
tions reside.
Concerning bars 382400, Weingartner quotes the relevant passage from his
book on conducting:
35
Toward the end of the rst movement, there is at one place a ve-bar
group:
One could understand the fourth bar of the second group, the rest, as a
short fermata, and the rst bar of the following ve-bar group as an up-
beat (which would still result in a four-bar group); or the extra bar could
be explained by analogy with the principal theme, which always appears
the rst time thus:
and the second time with an extra bar, thus:
Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)
199
35
ber das Dirigieren (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hrtel, 1895, revised 3rd edition 1905). My translation
diers from that of the English edition, On Conducting, translated by Ernest Newman (London: Breit-
kopf & Hrtel, 1906), pp. 3637.
Regardless of how one reckons things mathematically, the short, breath-
less pause followed by the outburst of the diminished seventh chord will,
as a result of the lengthening, always convey the eect of fear, foreboding,
overpowering, destruction. It is as if a giants st were seen rising from the
earth. Can it then be believed that, on almost every occasion, I have found
the indescribable eect of this passage simply ruined by the shortening of
the diminished seventh chord by a bar, or even by the omission of the
bars rest?
{30} No one shrinks in horror at the most tasteless rhythmic displace-
ments; the most simple-minded Luftpausen may be introduced in order
to make things appear interesting. But here a genius has hit upon an idea
of the most ingenious irregularity, and this has to be levelled to the
ground in order that the music can proceed with four-bar regularity.
O sancta simplicitas!
But here yet another interpretation of the principal theme surfaces, and in-
deed one that , moreover one that (regardless of how one reckons things math-
ematically) is unsure about whether [part of the theme] comprises two bars or
three. No wonder, then, that Weingartner lacks the courage to decide once and for
all that bar 390 is merely the upbeat of a new regular eight-bar group. Nonethe-
less, he is right to criticize those who cut bar 389. The case teaches us clearly that
it is worth following the paths of a genius, even if at rst one is unable to clarify
the directions his paths have taken.
Finally, some of Weingartners ideas on performance.
He condemns as a barbarous insanity the practice of starting this movement
slowly and not introducing the fast tempo until after the second fermata.
He is also outspoken on the matter of using the horns to strengthen bars 15:
What possible reason could Beethoven have had for dispensing with
these instruments, given that, of the four notes of the theme, three were
available as natural tones on the E
,
horn and the fourth (B

on the E
,
horn) was always possible as a stopped tone? He would have used the
horns at least in the rst two bars had he needed them. Moreover, he uses
stopped tones more frequently in this symphony than usual. . . . I believe
that, on the contrary, he purposely reserved the horns for the later, more
emphatic entries of the theme. Why then, should we want to correct him
throughout?
For bars 44 he explains:
Throughout the movement, one should take care that, in forte as well as
in piano, the eighth notes that are repeated in the theme are always played
with the same degree of strength. Nothing is more dangerous than the
following mode of performance:
which can become a habit if the tempo is too fast, or if the players fail to
hold each of the notes the same length, both in forte and in piano pas-
sages. One then hears accents, but no melody; and the powerful piece is
transformed from a titanic struggle into a hunting scene.
It is easy, however, to distinguish my recommended method of performance
from the two that Weingartner has in mind. In bars 6366 he uses the following
phrasing:
63 | 64 | 65 | 66
p sf p
whereby only a gentle, enlivening emphasis is called for on the sforzando, one
that will not spoil the general eect of piano in the entire passage. He preserves
this phrasing also in bars 7993, without however observing that in doing so he
has easily nullied the changes in the slurring. But was it not Beethovens very in-
tention to introduce this dierence, which is the sole rationale for the uncondi-
tional domination of the four-bar phrase not beginning until bar 94?
The instructions Weingartner gives regarding the string fortissimo in bars
228 is correct, but he erroneously bases them on Fig. 18 5), which leads him to
draw the following conclusion:
We see, therefore, that the diminished chords that become piano sighs fall
at rhythmically important points, so to speak on strong beats.
Regarding the oboe cadenza in bar 268, Weingartner is correct in suggesting
a soloistic interpretation also of the preceding bars. On the other hand, he is
wrong to advance the following argument in preferring bassoons to horns in bars
303: {31}
tonwi lle 5
200

The rescoring of the second theme of this movementhorns in the ex-
position, bassoons in the recapitulationis a makeshift. Beethoven could
not entrust the passage to the E
,
horns, as he could not have used stopped
tones for this exposed, powerfully conceived passage. There would have
been no time for a change of crooks, and he would not have wanted to in-
troduce a second pair of horns just for these few bars.
Bekker (Beethoven, 1912):
36
In the Fifth Symphony, it is the principal theme itself that introduces the
work like a ery banner. The interpretation given by Beethoven, Fate
knocks at the Door, has a persuasive pictorial strength. Twice the re-
sounding blows are heard, awakening a tremulous echo in the strings that
rise up into a loud question. The third time, more threatening than ever,
the violently overbearing knocking is heard, leaving us no longer in doubt
about the nature of this fearful guest who demands admittance. There
again follows the frightened play of the voices, but this time it does not
end on the questioning dominant chord. It builds up to strong rhythms,
which push forwards with breathtaking speed. Short, foreboding pauses
interrupt the onslaught. Beginning with the opening motive, a mighty
horn fanfare leads in broad leaps of a fth to E
,
major: The warrior has
taken up the challenge of Fate. A tender responding theme wells up, re-
sounding with hopeful yearning and intensies into joyfully proud chords
that give the exposition a conclusion that senses victory. The warriors en-
ergy awakened, he wants to take up the struggle: can he survive it?
Again the blows of Fate are struck, this time with the wind and string
instruments reverberating as if from opposite sides. The opponents have
recognized one another; both are determined. The battle begins.
It was a thoroughly productive inspiration, crucial for the unied
eect of the movement, to develop the principal and secondary themes
the summoning of Fate, and the answer of the summoned onefrom a
single motive. The substance here, in contrast to the rich intertwining of
themes in the rst movement of the Eroica, necessitated the most intense
concentration upon a few elemental though malleable ideas. In this work,
where the poet portrays not a character but an event, even the recapitula-
tion loses its retrospective character. The plot pushes on relentlessly, the
recapitulation is organized around it and introduces a new phase of de-
velopment. In the development section itself, the motive of battle rst col-
lapsed in exhaustion, then reared up wildly before culminating in a tri-
umphal display of the blows of Fate. The recapitulation now follows, its
opening transformed by the addition of an oboe melody of painful grief,
which ends movingly with an oboe recitative. Only then does the warrior
seem to regain his courage. His strength renewed, the melody of hope
now rings outuntil the Fate motive returns with unimaginable force,
destroying everything in its way: the bright C major mood succumbs
once more to the minor and now proceeds aimlessly along its gloomy
path towards annihilation. The woodwind group utters sighs of death
once morethen the call of Fate ruthlessly surpresses all further lamen-
tation. The battle is over. Fate is victorious.
Now, what would this phrase-monger have oered about the content of the
rst movement, had he known nothing of the legend? {32}

Second Movement (Andante con moto)

Wiederholen zwar kann der Understanding can, in truth,
Verstand, was da schon gewesen; repeat what has already been.
Was die Natur gebaut, bauet er It builds, selectively, upon that
whlend ihr nach. which Nature has built.
ber Natur hinaus baut die Reason can build beyond Nature,
Vernunft, doch nur in das Leere but only into a void.
Du nur, Genius, mehrst in der Only you, Genius, can multiply
Natur die Natur Nature in Nature.
Schiller
Ich spreche Mysterien, aber sie I speak mysteries, but so they are.
sind.
Hlderlin, Hyperion
Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)
201
36
Paul Bekker, Beethoven (Berlin: Schuster und Loeer, 1912). The English edition, translated
and adapted from the German by M. M. Bozman (London: Dent, 1927), bears only a general resem-
blance to the original text.
The Urlinie, charted in the main graph (p. 203), rises in bars 18 (11) from 3 to 5
and falls in bars 1115 (22) from 5 to 1 ; yet it immediately begins again from 8

in
bars 2349, descending in order to regain the 5 once again as its true focal
point.
37
As these groups of bars are in the same key, it would be mistaken to speak
of a rondo form, whose contrasting sections are marked by changes of key. But
since the group of bars 122 ends with a full close, and the second group, bars 23
49, ends precisely with a half close, then, in spite of the linear connection between
the two groups, the second group may be understood as a subsidiary subject, pro-
viding a retransition to the starting point of the line (not of a key). According to
Nottebohm (Beethoveniana, p. 14), Beethoven marked the rst sketch for bars
23, which at any rate lead to a full close via the harmonic progression IIII

VI, quasi trio: thus, for this early sketch with the full close, he already used the
strong qualier quasi.
The main idea, thus put together from a principal and a subsidiary subject,
undergoes a guration whose constant increase in movement and constant rise
in register both distinguishes the individual variations and holds them together.
Let us indicate the rst group (bars 122) as A, the second (bars 2349) as B; then
the plan of the Andante may be represented as follows:
Theme
A 3 5 5 1 bars 122
B 8

5 bars 2349
Variation 1
A 3 5 5 1 bars 5071
B 8

5 bars 7298
Variation 2
A (viola, cello) 3 5 bars 99106
(violin 1) 3 5 bars 107114
(cello, double bass) 3 5 bars 115123
B 5 2 bars 124 184
Variation 3
A 3 5 5 1 bars 185205
Coda 8

5 | 5 1 bars 205247
The coda, which is intended to take the place of the B-section of the third varia-
tion and round o the whole, thus not only retrieves 5 1 but also, for sake of
greater emphasis, attracts 8

5 to it: for this reason the B-section of the second

variation has already acquired a new line, which likewise aims at a half-cadence
with 5 2 in place of 8

5. Since, however, it was not possible to use 5 1 in the A-

section of the second variation if 5 2 were to follow in the B-section, then 5 1
had to be abandoned and a threefold 3 5 set up in its place, as a kind of solidi-
cation of the rst part of the Urlinie. {33}
Bars 1. As one nds in the variations as a whole, so also in the theme care is taken
to make distinctions and connections in the various Urlinie progressions, and even
the individual tones of the Urlinie, by changes of register and instrumentation:
tonwi lle 5
202
37
Drehpunkt: turning point. Schenker has not developed his theories to the point at which he
can identify a single, overarching Urlinie descent with a clearly marked primary tone (Kopfton).
This ordering is also adhered to in the rst variation; in the second variation
3 5 is raised an octave for the rst time; it is raised another octave in the third
variation.
The following illustration may serve us as an introduction to the secrets of
the relationships among Urlinie, voice-leading, degree, and motive; it shows the
succession of prolongations, that is, the layers of the voice-leading:
3 belongs with I, 4 is a passing tone, 5 belongs with V and I: that is the simple
point of departure (see Fig. 1a). Thus locked between the two tonic harmonies,
however, the V functions more as the divider of I at the upper fth than as an
essential harmonic degree. And the movement of the fth to the third in bar 8
signies merely a progression to an inner voice (see Tonwille 3, p. 6/I, p. 102; Ton-
wille 4, pp. 7, 15, 19/I, pp. 145, 153, 156, etc.), which paves the way for the true de-
scent. Beginning from 5, the falling line nally leads to the 1 which, as early as bar
1, lay concealed behind a 3 that was set up chordally but not elaborated.
38
The adornment by neighbor notes (see Fig. 2b) leads here to a 108108
succession in bars 14, which is dierent from what one nds, for example, in the
third movement of the symphony; however, it invokes the threat of consecutive
octaves if the 5, like the preceding 4, is also approached directly by leap and, ad-
ditionally, is supported by the divider in accordance with Fig. 2a.
{34} The descending fths in bars 56 (see Fig. 2c) serve to avoid this error;
against these, the upper voice falls a third lower: not, however, as a 3 1 progres-
sion but merely as the elaboration of a third, i.e. as a progression into the inner
voice (compare the leap of a third in bars 78); in this way, the last beat of bar 6
shows the return of c
1
in the upper voice supported by I! And in this way a great
deal that is signicant is gained: and in spite of the circuitous routes along a rich
unfolding of harmonic degrees, the basic plan of Fig. 2a is preserved: the 4 re-
cedes as a passing tone, and the insertion of III

3
in bar 4 gives up its function in
the ascent IIII

3
V. (Compare the downward arpeggiation CA
,
in the bass on
the third beat bar 8, which reproduces the bass progression CA
,
in bars 4 6
and, being supported expressly by the tonic, acts as a kind of summary in rhyth-
mic diminution). Finally, the intervention of I between III and V (see Fig. 2b) re-
moves the clash between e

as the raised third of III and E

,
as the root of V.
The conceptual unity of the voice-leading of Fig. 2a, newly fortied by that of
Fig. 2c, is no less clearly (albeit dierently) armed by the motivic realization
given in Fig. 2d: despite the rise and fall of arpeggiations that follow the harmonic
progression in bars 18, the rst arpeggiation is in fact continued only by the last
(see the brackets), as if in all these bars only the I was in fact elaborated. How
many are the ways in which the unity of the eight-bar phrase is promoted! But
the creative force of organicism bears further fruit, for it is evidently the nal
arpeggiation that evokes its mirror image in bars 1115 (see the NB in Fig. 2d; this
is notated in a lower register).
And there is more. In the heavens of the imagination, one can already per-
ceive a more distant future, bars 23 (see Fig. 2e): the two arpeggiations, lled by
passing tones, join together and are continued in a third arpeggiation, which
scales the seventh of the chord. It is the second subject, bars 23, that comes to
Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)
203
38
Der freie Satz, Fig. 41/2, is essentially a copy of Fig. 2c here. It exemplies the technique of reach-
ing over, in which the individual elements are heard successively, rather than being partly superim-
posed above each other.
life here. Thus rst and second subjects take their nourishment and form from
the same root.
39
And what intelligence is borne out by the details:
In bar 2 the suspension c-b
,
is built not as a 98 above the root B
,
(as in the
original analysis) but, rathersee the graph of the Urlinieas an ambiguous
tied-over 76 above D
,
(see Kontrapunkt II, pp. 84/p. 85, 100/pp. 101 and 207/
pp. 212 ). If its true meaning is immediately recognized on the downbeat of bar
3, nevertheless that falling fth A
,
D
,
retains its suggestive power as IIV; and we
see how in bar 3 the root B
,
expressly falls to G in order to set up a falling fth
GC (VIIIII) in imitation: thus, the harmonic degrees and their associated
fth-progressions announce themselves, although the voice-leading actually
wanted to proceed along the path 10 8 10 8 (see above). In bars 56, where upper
voice and bass seek the same path to the lower third, the fth-progressions re-
move the threat of consecutive octaves and fths, their rhythm ( , , ) evidently
derived from bar 3. The ascending leap in the upper voice e in bar 5, from b
,
to
d
,
1
, decisively prepares the important ascending arpeggiation in the next bar.
Even though the descending arpeggiation in bars 1115, viewed as a whole,
represents a reply to the preceding arpeggiation (see Fig. 2d), the falling third e
,
3

c
3
in bars 1112 may nevertheless may be specically derived from the falling
thirds in bars 79 and 910, which immediately precede it. It is precisely the ac-
cented passing note, which so strongly suggests a short, expressive grace-note and
is used here in place of the simple passing tone (see Fig. 2d), that underscores its
origins in the most eective way. The rst passing tone is mimicked by a second,
between c
3
and a
,
2
, yet this does not express the 3 1 of the Urlinie {35} but, rather,
just an elaboration [Auskomponierung] of the third from the 3, which is followed
in bar 14 by an elaboration of the third from 2.
The voice-leading in bars 1015 may be understood as follows: the simulta-
neous descent of the Urlinie tones 5 2 and the fourth-progression in the bass
a
,
1
e
,
1
(see Fig. 1) threatened with a chain of consecutive fths. A 56 exchange
could be of use only if it had taken the following course overall:
5 4 3 2
Urlinie tones e
,
d
,
c b
,
fourth-progression in bass a
,
1
g
1
f
1
e
,
1
5 6 6 6 5
harmonic degrees I V
From this, Beethoven uses only the rst three intervals, 566, but wants to dis-
pose of 4 3 above the bass f
1
, so that only the 2 remains above e
,
[1]
(V). He avoids
the new threat of consecutive fths
d
,
c b
,
f
1
e
,
1
6 5 5
by the diminution, as a last resource: he elaborates the third from 3 down to a
,
2
and the 2 in the opposite direction, up from g
2
, which results in two successive
thirds (
a
,
g
f e
,) instead of fths. And now the nishing touches: instead of g
1
in bar
11, he extrapolates its lower third e
,
1
(as the root of the passing chord)
40
and takes
advantage of the expansion produced by the elaboration of 3 (bars 1213) to in-
sert between f
1
and e
,
1
an otherwise superuous c
1
in bar 14. The two leaps of a
fourth in the bass thus have neither the same origin nor the same meaning.
In bar 14, the rhythm of three eighth notes stirs for the rst time, which not
only anticipates the bass in bar 21 but also the bass in the B-section, where it is
one of the most important features.
Bars 23. The liberating eect, which the beginning of the subsidiary section
evokes, is undoubtedly based on its connection with the rst theme, as explained
above (see Fig. 2e), and on the other hand also by the fact that the Urlinie starts
for the rst time with the 8

. As in the sketch transcribed by Nottebohm, Beetho-

ven adheres also in the nal version to the chord progression IIII

3
V, set in
contrary motion to the 8

5 of the Urlinie: it is as if he wished in this section to

bring into the open, and thus to animate, the basic plan of bars 18, which had
half concealed the same harmonic path IIIIV (in bars 14 7). The reinterpre-
tation of the seventh, g
,
, as f

in bar 29in order to make it more emphatic and

believable, the bass expressly introduces a

in place of a
,
has as its rst conse-
quence in bar 30 the insertion of the secondary dominant G as a kind of VII,
which now points with its falling fth all the more eectively toward III. Using the
terminology of voice-leading, we could express the same thing as follows: the
threat of consecutive octaves between the outer voices is avoided by the interven-
ing sixth, f

, in bar 29, a note that is already the goal of the g

,
in bars 2728, which
undergoes its own elaboration. The dramatic underscoring of f
2
by an extra bar
tonwi lle 5
204
39
Wurzel: Schenker is using the botanical term; no other meaning of root is intended.
40
Schenker is exemplifying the technique of prolongation called Auswerfen eines Grundtones, ex-
trapolation (or addition) of a root, which is explained in Der freie Satz in 247.

bar 29should not prevent us from recognizing that the group of nine bars, bars
2331, in reality {36} form a regular eight-bar phrase, if not a four-bar construc-
tion.
41
It is only by looking at the norm that we understand what is unusual about
bar 29. The actual reduction can be explained by the following picture :
Bar 32 marks the beginning of a parallelism with bars 2331. To be sure, the
motivic material used in the arpeggiations remains the same (see Fig. 1B), yet as
early as bar 32 the fth between the outer voices (g
2
in the Urlinie, C in the bass)
forces the voice-leading along a dierent path from that taken in the previous
group of bars:
By means of a secondary dominant in bars 3945, the root-position C major
chord moves in bar 46 to a rst-inversion chord built on C, which functions as a
neighbor-note chord; in this passage the upper voice develops its arpeggiations
along the paths of both chords, see Fig. 1 and the graph of the Urlinie. It is im-
portant here to understand the great expansion from the metrically regular form,
whether in a) or in b) of the following example:
The autograph manuscript shows clearly that the cello part in bar 39 was
originally lined up with the other strings, with , , ; recognizing the importance
of a parallelism with bars 2728, however, led Beethoven subsequently to make
the improvement. The articulation of a quarter note on the second beat (see the
cello in bars 3940) appears to have been continued in the manuscript in bars
41, so that the octave leaps in bar 48 developed organically at the end, In the nal
version this quarter note is retained only by the bassoon, in bar 41: all others were
crossed out, so as not to disturb the freely expanded dotted crotchets.
I should like to add a few remarks on the individual variations. The pedal
point at the fth in the clarinet at the beginning of the rst variation (bars 49
52) arms in its way the unity of 3 5 as understood in Fig. 2a. The chromatic
succession e
,
2
e
2
(bars 5253), following the surprise step motion g
,
(f

)g in
bars 2730 and progression in the treble (bars 41), certainly oers nothing fur-
ther out of the ordinary. The octave leap in the ute, to e
,
3
(bar 98), announces
the ascending register transfer of the second variation. Here the guration of the
3 5 section moves up from the cellos to the rst violins; and if, in bars 114 23, a
guration of these Urlinie tones is still missing from the highest register and its
place is actually taken by one in the bass, this occurs because the use of that high-
est register for thematic purposes {37} is reserved for the third variation (bars
185). Thus the ascending register transfer can continue to stretch across the long
episode in bars 12384 and so bind the second and third variations; but this does
not prevent the ller parts in the register around c
3
(rst violins and utes) from
being extended in the second variation. For this reason, one could say that the
rest of the variation also asserts itself in the register of the ute part in bars 98
106 (see earlier).
Bars 124. The harmonic plan of this episode, which brings the 5 2 descent (see
earlier), may be understood in simplest terms as follows:
Although the descending fth VI is probably delineated well enough in the
harmonic progression VIII

IV, what is at any rate of even greater signicance

here is that the end-points of the progression are the same, V: this amounts to a
Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)
205
41
In Wahrheit ein regelmiger Achttakter, wenn nicht Viertakter ist: the nine bars are an expan-
sion of a regular eight-bar phrase, which can be further contracted to four bars.

circle, a higher unity arming that the 5 2 here is in the last analysis the elabo-
ration merely of V. The consecutive octaves that threaten the outer-voice counter-
point in the VIII succession (see Fig. 6a) are avoided by the insertion of a pass-
ing harmony (VII

3
) for the 4 of the Urlinie.
42
Similarly, Beethoven avoids the
threatening clash between e

and e
,
in the progression from III

3
to III
,
5
,
3 by mov-
ing to the neighbor-note chord of E
,
(bar 150), which removes the threat.
Looking at the passage more closely, bars 123138 (141) are underpinned by a
76
3 4
5
3
progression attached to an ascending register transfer. In the normal
course of such voice-leading (see Kontrapunkt II, pp. 251/pp. 251 ) the seventh
descends to a fth and is thus lost to the upper voice (see the NB to Fig. 6b); the
technique of reaching over (on this matter see Freier Satz; examples are found
in Beethovens Op. 109, nale, variations 2 and 5, etc.),
43
however, renders the
greatest service in enabling the seventh yet to remain in the upper voice by means
of ascending register transfer; see Fig. 6b. In bars 13846 we see the outer voices
engaged in a progression of parallel thirds, which only at the last moment switches
to contrary motion.
Although the realization of the harmonic plan in bars 123 46 is supplied
with the motives from the principal subject (A), it would be incorrect to speak
here of a development section, since even the secondary subject (B) is created
from motives from the principal subject. If one places the rst and last arpeg-
giations beside one another, without the dotted rhythm and also without any ex-
pansion or lling-in, one will obtain the clarinet and bassoon motive in bars
12731. In bars 131, the counterpoint is thickened by imitations at the distance
of a barthe ute, followed by the oboewhile the arpeggiations continue in
a descending fth-progression, which stands for bars 1115; in this way, one can
speak overall of an abbreviation of the principal subject (A)! The imitation by
the oboe impels the ute to play in thirds above it; there are corresponding
lower thirds in the clarinets. In bars 13637, a chain of falling and rising fth-
progressions take place: {38}
which proceed in a 3/4 rhythm (hemiola) and in this way add to the regular group
of bars beginning in bar 132 the weight of a fth bar that has been extended by
the eect of a ritenuto. The instruments are reversed in bars 138: the clarinets
begin, followed by the ute and oboe; here the descending series of tones, d
,
3
g
2
in bars 14245 (see Fig. 6), represents an expansion of the fth-motive as a
whole. The reversal then has the advantage that, at bar 142, the fth-progression
f
3
b
,
2
is smoothly joined to its abbreviated form, f
3
c
3
. Bars 14344 again show
the 3/4 rhythm: it quietly prepares the expansions, by three-bar units, in the next
group of bars.
With the arrival of c
3
in bar 148, the motive of the secondary subject (B), bars
32, returns, and in accordance with the generally high register it climbs as far as
g
3
. The dotted rhythms also return with the motive, and they lead back, in the
most natural way, to the [original] upbeat arpeggiation. The ascent g
1
b
,
1
in these
very bars recalls the motion to the seventh in bars 2327, but here the change of
harmony (the E
,
chord) prevents [the highest note] from being understood as a
seventh; it is that this insertion serves more the circumvention of the chromatic
progression cc
,
(see Fig. 6a). That ascent is basically set above a progression in
thirds between the outer voices (see Fig. 6b), except that the root has been added
at every other harmony; and this same progression in thirds prepares the more
extended one in bars 167. From the group of bars 14859, a regular eight-bar
construction may be perceived:
bars: 148 149 150 | 151 152 153 | 154 155 156 157 158 159
2 (-) 2 (-) 2 (2) 2
Bars 205. With regard to the coda, one should note that the bassoon motive, de-
spite the ear linking it to the motive of bars 12729, is better understood in over-
all linear terms as a parallelism to the descent of the Urlinie in bars 19599. The
rst violin and cello gure in bars 21315 should be understood as an expansion
of the arpeggiation across bars 6|7, and indeed again with the characteristic use
of the divider at its apex tone, e
,
2
. The rst violin motive that follows immediately
apparently refers to the motive of bars 2224, although here it serves more the
overall expansion of a
,
ce
,
in bars 21318, which chordally aims at 5. Bars 229
reply to bars 127; but now the end of the gure rhymes more clearly with the be-
ginning of the movement because it has regained the dotted rhythm. The arpeg-
giations with the dotted rhythms now also return. But the root of the tonic has
already remained stationary; and when in bar 231 the apex tone e
,
2
arrives above
tonwi lle 5
206
42
The Urlinie tone is, of course, d
,
2
; but the actual chord in bar 146, however, includes D

(as is
implied by Schenkers designation VII

3
.
43
Der freie Satz, 12934 and 23132. In 1923 bergreifen (reaching over) was a relatively new
concept and, of course, does not appear in the Erluterungsausgabe of Op. 109.

} } } } }

it, the dominant divider is omitted. In bar 233, the arpeggiation reaches the oc-
tave of the chord for the rst time, and thus the ground is nally prepared for
bars 24647, in which the fth, instead of leaping down to the third (as in bars
78), now leaps directly to the octave above the root. {39}

Nottebohms Beethoveniana,
44
p. 63, transmits a few jottings from the sketches
for the second movement. But among these should also be reckoned the jottings
and remarks that are found on the edges of the leaves of the autograph manu-
script, which was used in the preparation of the rst edition, as well the more fre-
quent instances of earlier readings in the text itself. I have already mentioned a
few things; to these I add the following:
The original version of bars 1214 had a dense texture, replete with motives.
The horn entry in bar 29 was to start earlier, on the third eighth note of the pre-
vious bar.In bar 30, the basses, horns, trumpets and timpani also used the
dotted rhythm.In bar[s] 33[34], the rst version of the timpani part was ap-
parently the same as that of bars 154 55: (see later).In bar 37, beside the
there was, in addition, an expressly written diminuendo.(On the cellos in
bars 3840 and the [second] bassoon in bars 41, see later.)In bar 48, a leap of
an octave, from the second to the third eighth-note, was assigned to the bas-
soons.In bars 5758, the independent second bassoon part was crossed out,
and a unisono was expressly indicated for the two instruments!In bar 80, a
thirty-second-note run, from C to c, was conceived for the basses.
At the beginning of the second variation, the clarinet (which is silent in the
nal version) proceeded with a gure that employed the rhythm of .
In bar 107, the violas were marked divisi; afterward the double-stops were dis-
tributed between the violas and cellos, although at rst in a lower register than
that of the nal version. Also, the bassoon and clarinet originally used a dierent
rhythm.In bar 114, the rst and second violins originally played triple-stopped
eighth notes.In bar 132, the contrary motion in the clarinet parts coincided
with the entry of the oboe, in imitation [of the ute].In bars 154 55 (cf. bars
33 in this list), the timpani rested in each of the third eighths.In bars 167,
the melody was assigned to the rst violins (an octave lower than the ute in the
nal version). The second violins accompanied in double-stops, the violas in
thirty-second-note arpeggiations. The corrections to bars 17277 became so nu-
merous that, in the end, Beethoven wrote out the two leaves once more.In bar
180, the basses originally started from C, like the violins in bar 179, with the re-
sult, however, that the seventh was played out too soon.In bars 18788, and
again in bars 19194, the horns and timpani were originally given this rhythm to
play: .In bars 19194, the utes, clarinets and bassoons continued
with their motives of imitation; this worked against the synthesis, in so far as it is
the 5 that arrives in bar 191 (cf. bar 7) that marks the boundary point of the rst
ascent.

The errors in the second movement for which the printed scores are responsible
include the following:
1. In bars 23 and 25 (and similarly in bars 72 and 74), the autograph shows the
wind slurs extending only as far as the third eighth note. (The dierence be-
tween these {40} slurs and those of the rst and second violin parts is inten-
tional: the winds end their progression with a quarter note, whereas the violins
end with just an eighth note. The error already appeared in the rst edition.)
2. In bar 30, Beethoven applied staccato wedges from the thirty-second note on,
not the dotted sixteenth that begins the bar; he did so, with the same care in
all the relevant instrumental parts, again in bar 79. The rst edition follows
the autograph.
3. In bars 35 and 36, the sf in the timpani part should be placed under the rst
quarter note. The misinterpretation of the autograph, which can already be
seen in the rst edition, apparently resulted from the masters improvements
to the original rhythm (see earlier): he brought the quarter note with the trill
forward to the beginning of the bar but, as is so often the case, forgot to move
the sf forward, too. In any event, an sf on the third eighth note would make
no sense.

Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)

207
44
[S]Let me repeat my plea I issued earlier (in Beethovens nuente Synfonie, p. xxiv/p. 17): What
a terrible shame it is, for the entire world of musicians and those interested in music, but especially
for the German nation itself, that a work like Nottebohms, which numbers among the few truly valu-
able monographs of our literature, has not been reprinted since 1872. The sketches of even a Beetho-
ven exert so little drawing power that, in the course of forty and twenty-ve years, respectively, not
evenshall we saya thousand composition teachers and pupils can be found who have proted
from such immeasurable treasures. One can only draw from this the most disquieting, and yet the ir-
refutable, conclusion: that the majority of musicians evidently make the access to their art easier than
a Beethoven.
[Writing in 1912, Schenker is reckoning the time elapsed since the publication of Nottebohms
two principal collections of Beethoven essays, Beethoveniana (1872) and the posthumous Zweite Bee-
thoveniana (1887).]
4. In bar 40, the second bassoon should also be tied over to the next bar. (Only
in this way is it possible to lead to that state of frozen time [Erstarrung], so to
speak, in which the dotted quarter-note passing tones proceed almost as
though there were no rhythmic pulse. This mistake already appears in the
rst edition.)
5. The second bassoons e in bar 41 is likewise to be tied over; see the cello (in-
correct in the rst edition).
6. In bars 4147 (and similarly in bars 90), there should be a continuous legato
slur in all the parts, even though Beethoven indicated this only in the rst vi-
olin, cello and second bassoon parts, providing the inner parts merely with
ties. Apparently he reckoned that, with the legato slurs in place in the outer
parts, they would also be understood as applicable to the inner voice[s]. (The
rst edition is slurred arbitrarily.)
7. the f
2
and g
2
in the clarinet part in bars 5354 should not be slurred together.
This is conrmed in the autograph also in the parallel passage, bars 1023,
where ef in the ute, oboe, and bassoon are not played legato. (In the rst
edition, only the parallel passage is correctly slurred.)
8. In bars 5759 the second bassoon should play with the rst. (The engraver of
the rst edition probably ignored Beethovens unisono marking.)
9. In bar 57, on the last three sixteenths of the viola part, there should be a lower
voice with three sixteenth notes [on e
,
]. To be sure, these notes appear to have
been added at a later stage; but also in bars 810 the lower voice of the viola
part (e
,
) appears to have similarly been added later, as one can see from the
change of handwriting. (The rst edition overlooked this voice.)
10. In bar 97, there should be an only for the octave leaps in the viola and bas-
soon parts, in contrast to an f for the octave leaps in the cello and clarinets.
The sixteenth-note e
,
2
in the oboe and ute should also be only f, not . (The
fact that Beethoven notated a second f in these parts, on the downbeat of the
next bar, has obliged the engravers and editors of the rst and later editions
to act high-handedly by placing the two markings of f, which are separated
by a bar line, together to form an in bar 97.)
NB In bar 104, the autograph indeed shows a legato slur in the ute part,
not in the oboe or bassoon; given, however, that this is a reply to bar 55, there
should be no legato slur.
11. In bars 132, 133, 134, and 135, the slurs should stop at the last sixteenth note
(compare bars 128 and 130); the same articulation then applies also to the oboe,
and later to the clarinets. (The mistake occurs already in the rst edition.) {41}
12. In bars 13637, all the sixteenth notes in the clarinet parts should be placed
under a single slur. (This is wrong in the rst edition.)
13. The new slur in the clarinets in bar 138 should end at the end of the bar;
14. Likewise the slur in bar 139.
15. The second slur in the ute and oboe in bar 137 should end at the last six-
teenth; likewise the slur in bar 139.
16. In bar 142, the should stop beneath the third sixteenth note. (With re-
spect to points 13)16), the rst edition is incorrect.)
17. In bar 195, the second clarinet should leap up a tenth, from d
1
to f
2
, exactly like
the second bassoon. (This is correct in the rst edition.)
18. Across bars 216|217 the horns should play gc, exactly as they do across bars
214|215. (The g is already missing from the rst edition.)
19. In bar 217, there should be a p before the cresc. in the bassoon, and a cresc. in
the last sixteenth notes of the double bass part.
20. In the rst bassoon in bar 218, instead of an eighth-note e
,
1
there should be a
quarter-note, which is tied over to bar 219! Only then will the intended ex-
pansion of bars 11, 60 and 195 be fully revealed. In this regard, it is also
important that the in the rst ute, second clarinet and rst bassoon
should begin as early as the third eighth of bar 218.
21. In bars 224 25, both bassoon parts should be deleted up to the nal six-
teenth note of bar 225. The rst version of bars 225 26 required so much re-
vision that Beethoven wrote out the passage a second time, in order to make
it clearer; in the new version of bar 225 he did in fact expressly write out the
rests before the nal sixteenth, but forgot to cross out the bassoon parts
in bar 224 (cf. the sf in the timpani in bars 3536 [as noted above]). In point
of fact, as one can see from the scoring in bars 224 28, the participation of
the wind instruments does not begin until the last sixteenth of bar 225, and it
nishes in bar 226. (The rst edition faithfully reproduces the bassoon parts
that Beethoven forgot to cross out.)
22. In bar 225, the last sixteenth note in the double bass part should be slurred to
the rst eighth note of bars 226.
23. In bar 226, there should be a legato slur in the double bass part above B
,
and C.
24. In bar 230, the slurs in the clarinet and bassoon parts should stop at the end
of the bar,
25. And similarly for the slurs in the rst and second violins in bars 232, 233, and
234. Not until the violas enter in bars 235 should the slur connect all three
notes.

tonwi lle 5
208

The tempo marking Andante con moto (, 92) refers here to the secret move-
ment of the Urlinie tones; that is to say, the performance of the Andante must not
be taken so slowly that the spiritual prospect [der geistige Ausblick] from the 3 to
the 4 and, in spite of the tension across bars 4 6, from the 4 to the 5 is neither
blurred nor actually made impossible to perceive; and so on. The forte in bar 7
should bear less the external characteristics of power; it should much rather ex-
press the arrival of the goal, marked by the 5, to which the ascent has striven. One
should note the dierences among the three e
,
s in bars 7, 9, and 11: in bar 7 the
e
,
1
is unslurred, and the forte should be held for the full bar; in bar 9, it is slurred
[to the rst note of the next bar]; but not until bar 11 is it followed by a diminu-
endo. In bar 18, the forte should be in eect right up to the last sixteenth note,
b
,
1
, in spite of the piano on the following a
,
1
in bar 19; in a less conventional way,
the sign strives after the same eect (within a dynamic of piano) in the
wind parts across bars 19|20. Only someone who {42} can realize these subtle dif-
ferences delicately and smoothly will have control over the forte in bars 2021,
which also carries with it a
,
1
(1 ) for the rst time, in bar 21.
In the group of bars 2331, the execution of the expansion will be correct only
if the underlying norm is perceived (see earlier). In bar 30, the rst dotted six-
teenth note should also be emphasized by being sustained. (See my earlier re-
marks on the unauthorized staccato mark introduced by printers and editors.) In
bars 32, one should abandon the idea of a new theme, and enter into the paral-
lelism all the more naturally and freely, as it merely provides an elaboration of the
III, which does not lead to a single descent of a fth but merely represents a
halfway point between I and V (see Harmonielehre, p. 314/p. 235 and Freier
Satz).
45
The signicance of the horns, trumpets, and timpani, which enter here,
should not be exaggerated: one should be conscious only that, in the distribution
of the instruments in accordance with the structure of the whole (see Fig. 1), the
brass also must have their turn; otherwise, on account of the variations form,
they would not have been able to appear until bar 115 at the earliest. In bars 37,
the conductor should guide the performance toward the mysterious progression
from C
5
[

3] (bar 37) to C
6
[
,
3] (bar 46); only if he is able to express the a
,
2
as a neigh-
bor note will he succeed in making the extremely dicult crescendo in bar 47
sound plausible: for this crescendo must give the illusion almost that the 6

, this
very f
2
, lasts longer!
In the second variation, bars 99, the conductor must be aware of the dynamic
succession in the individual eight-bar units in advance: pianopianissimo(!)
forte. If the string section is not suciently strong, the wind parts should be ap-
propriately subdued from bars 114 onwards. In bars 124, it is imperative to
imagine the succession of Urlinie tones as if they followed one another in close
succession; only then can one succeed in mastering, eortlessly and beautifully,
the apparently strange expansions directed at the individual tones (see above),
i.e. the 10, 12, 7, 9, and 9 bars that belong, respectively, to the notes in the line
d
,
3
c
3
b
,
2
c
,
3
b
,
2
. In bars 18284, the dotted eighth notes e
,
must be held for
their exact value, in order to clarify the development of this tone in the space of
two octaves.
The free imitation in the wind parts in the third variation, bars 185, has been
organized by rhythmic complementation so favorably that no performance di-
culties whatever will arise, unless there is a gross imbalance between the numbers
of string and wind players; in such a case, one must favor the strings.
In bars 205, the conductor would be well advised to concentrate not on the
bassoon solo but on the basses, which, in deance of that solo, adhere precisely
to the regular eight-bar construction.

Beethovens Fifth Symphony (Continuation)

209
45
The various elaborations of IV are laid out in tabular form in Der freie Satz, g. 14; those cor-
responding most closely to the Andante con moto are gs. 14/1b and 14/3b.
BachBeethoven. In 1819, Beethoven wrote to Archduke Rudolph: . . . for
which our forefathers indeed serve us doubly, in that most of them possessed
genuine artistic worth (although among them only the German Handel and Se-
bastian Bach possessed genius) . . .
1
Now, what kind of observation is that? His-
torical? Style-critical? Philological? Mechanical? Was he also thinking of Zeit-
geist, Gothic style, Protestantism, and nation? (Beethoven went out of his way to
highlight the fact that Handel was a German!)
2
Or of the human character of
those masters? Their life stories? On what grounds did Beethoven, while accept-
ing the genuine artistic worth of most of the forefathers, grant to Handel and
Bach privileged positions as the only geniuses among them? Certainly every mu-
sician, music historian, and philologist would agree with him, although I know
that they would not even begin to understand his reasons, were he to have elab-
orated on them (compare his letter of July 1825 to Prince Galitzin).
3
But do they
also know what he meant by fortitude when he continued his letter to the arch-
duke with and if we today do not quite possess the same amount of fortitude
as our forefathers, nevertheless our renement of manners has advanced a great
deal? Or, given that he copied parts of Bachs Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue,
parts of fugues from the Well-Tempered Clavier (including the whole of the C
minor fugue from Book II), would the musicians, music historians, and music
philologists know what to say about his attraction to that music? In his copy of
the C minor fugue, preserved in the archive of the Gesellschaft der Musik-
freunde in Vienna, he marked a large cross by the B in the bass of bar 7, the sec-
ond note of the fugal answer. Obviously this B caught his attention, but until
now neither the theory nor the literature of fugue (including Marpurgs Ab-
handlung von der Fuge, Riemanns analysis of the Well-Tempered Clavier, and
Busonis edition of these works: I have not read Werkers book)
4
has provided
any information about this kind of fugal procedure. Here is what I say: this very
B contains one of the keys to all fugal synthesis, and precisely the knowledge one
can gain from it is sucient justication for throwing out everything that has
been thought, taught, and written about fugue, and precisely in this kind of
fugal procedure lies the essential dierence between a Bach and any other! To
state briey here what is elsewhere necessary to explain more thoroughly: Bach
takes the key of the answer, G minor, in the entry of the fourth voicethat
comes clearly labeled with the sign of the answer (the step of a second)and
uses the chromatic note to shift it into the main key of C minor. One has to be-
lieve that Bach did not do this only in order to be dierent, rather that he did it
so that the inner workings of the fugue would conform to the dictates of tonal-
itydictates that were stronger in him, the seer who created spontaneously,
than in other fugue-writers. Now, Beethoven noticed this detailit is, of course,
not an isolated caseand precisely because of this and similar details he avidly
pursued the music of Bach. He let these signicant words immediately follow
the passage quoted above: further, freedom is the only goal of the artistic world,
and of all of Creation. He undoubtedly viewed himself as a protagonist in this
210
Miscellanea
Vermischtes {Tonwille 5, pp. 4357}
t r a ns l at e d b y j os e p h lub b e n
1
Beethoven wrote this from Mdling on July 29, 1819. It appears in Ludwig van Beethoven: Brief-
wechsel: Gesamtausgabe, ed. S. Brandenburg (Munich: Henle, 1996), vol. 4, pp. 29798, as letter 1318.
2
Beethoven himself underlined the words German Handel in his letter.
3
Schenker refers here to Alfred Kalischers ve-volume edition of 19068, which gives a garbled
version of the text. For a reliable reading, see Beethoven: Briefwechsel: Gesamtausgabe, vol. 7, letter 2003.
The letter, which survives only in draft form, is the subject of Beethoven on his Op. 127 in Tonwille 7.
4
Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg, Abhandlung von der Fuge (Berlin: Haude und Spener, 17534);
Hugo Riemann, Katechismus der Fugen-Komposition: Analyse von J. S. Bachs Wohltemperiertem
Klavier und Kunst der Fuge (Leipzig: Max Hesses Verlag 189094); J. S. Bach, Das wohltemperierte
Klavier I, revised and annotated by Ferruccio Busoni (1894) (Busonis edition was issued by several
publishers, including Breitkopf & Hrtel in Leipzig, N. Simrock in Berlin, Universal-Edition in Vi-
enna, and G. Schirmer in New York); Wilhelm Werker, Studien ber die Symmetrie im Bau der Fugen
und die motivische Zusammengehrigkeit der Prludien und Fugen des Wohltemperierten Klaviers von
Johann Sebastian Bach (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hrtel, 1922). Schenker comments extensively on each of
these works in The Organic Nature of Fugue, as Demonstrated in the C Minor Fugue from Bachs
Well-Tempered Clavier, Book I, in Meisterwerk ii (pp. 5595/pp. 3154).
development, but he himself, as we see, would not have presumed to construe
freedom as a license to sink deliberately to the level of writing fugues that were
not free, i.e. badly written. Even though temporally and stylistically he was far
removed from Bach, he would never have uttered the phrase we hear daily from
the Most High Midgets (Beethovens term), who, without the slightest idea of
what it means to follow Bach, are always saying I can no longer follow Bach.
They proudly prefer to become epigones
5
of savages, of Fiji Islanders and the
like, rather than humbly to become epigones of Bach. But, of course, to be a
mere epigone of Bach requires the talent of a Beethoven, something clearly lack-
ing in todays epigones of savages. One could go even further than Schumann,
who once stated, perhaps only a genius completely understands genius, and
condently maintain that only a genius can really learn, because he alone knows
what to learn and from whom. In Epictetuss handbook of morals one can read:
As the young fop boasts in the theater, I am wise, because I have conversed with
many wise people! Epictetus replies: {44} I have conversed with many rich
people, but I am not rich!
6
Given that Beethoven indeed possessed sucient talent to be an epigone of
Bach, it follows that his glorication of Bach and Handel in the above-mentioned
letter indicated an essential armation of genius, of aristocraticism in art.
Therefore, in the spirit of Beethovens armation, let it be proposed: that
over all the Bach societies, all publishers, even over the well-known Bach-
Gesellschaft, a single, great Bach Society should arise in Germanyalong the
lines of the Bible society of England
7
that would disseminate the works of
the master as inexpensively as possible to all the ends of the earth, as if it were
the everlasting religion of music. Naturally, it would be up to the German lead-
ership to ensure that no abuses would be associated with this musical Bible, given
the way that certain nations have abused the Good Book. They place it on the
nightstands of their hotels, in order to deceive the newcomer with respect to the
true way of life in their country, as if it were nothing less than truly pious. Or they
send out missionaries, merchants, and soldiers to enslave foreign lands and
people, seize their treasures and workers and, with feigned nobility, in the name
of freedom, autonomy and the like, leave them only that which has no mar-
ket value, such as morals and customs.
Even I know all too well that, for relaxing their nerves after the daily grind or
for rekindling their animal spirits, people prefer the shrieking rhythms that (with
only the slightest trace of art) in some way strike a chord with the barren life that
only they know. This is all the more reason that the true countenance of art must
begin to be shown to the widest reaches of humanity.
The Bach missionary will be obliged to teach what art really means to human
beings: if it lls them with pride that they literally change the surface of the earth,
appropriate, transform, and prot from all its resources, quickly and easily unite
the most distant places, and move freely above, on, and below it, how much more
pride would they feel if they were able, like nature, to create something as in-
signicant as a ea! But bestowing life is denied to them, and it always will be.
This desire to emulate God they only have the power to bring to fruition in art.
Thus, the artists most holy aspiration is:
Da ich mit Gttersinn That I with godly sense,
Und Menschenhand and human hand,
Vermge zu bilden, will be empowered to create
Was bei meinem Weib that which with my wife,
Ich animalisch kann und mu. as an animal I can and must.
Goethe
8
In contrast, how paltry it is to praise life and industry as the highest good, the
ultimate goal of humanity! Do not the animals, plants, and rocks also live, just as
humans, and are they not also industrious, each in their own way? Creating life
is greater than living; art is greater than life. Everything that humans accomplish
outside of art can be done better by nature; in art alone nature cannot equal hu-
mans. It may well be that nature, from the very beginning and until the end of
eternity, ordained and established itself once and for all in the bosom of God as
his synthesis, and that we humans are too weak to replicate this synthesis of the
worlds Creator. But at least we are strong enough to reect and imitate it in the
little artistic synthesis that is more tting of our limitations, wherein it is we who
Miscellanea
211
5
Epigonen: undistinguished sons, successors, imitators; the term was originally applied by the an-
cient Greeks to the sons of the Seven against Thebes, who imitated their fathers by attacking Thebes.
6
The Golden Sayings of Epictetus (born A.D. 55, died c. 135), a Greek philosopher associated with
the Stoics.
7
The British and Foreign Bible Society, founded March 7, 1804. Their charter reads in part for
the wider distribution of the Scriptures, without note or comment.
8
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (17491832). The identication of Goethes writings in this Mis-
cellanea follows the 1888 Weimar edition of Goethes complete works (Gustav von Loeper, ed.,
Goethes Werke: herausgegeben im Auftrage der Groherzogin Sophie von Sachsen. Weimar: Hermann
Bhlau). This brief verse is taken from the poems grouped under the rubric Kenner und Knstler.
ordain and establish. Art is greater than life. Only in creating art do humans be-
come the true likeness of God.
Art unites and makes brothers of all humanity. Never has war been waged on
account of art, as it has so often in the name of religion. At most, the occasional
conqueror seeks to augment a victory achieved in bloody battle by dragging
home the artistic treasures of the conquered nation, but art, in the end, proves to
be stronger than such conquerors. Although outwardly enslaved, with inner
strength it conquers the conqueror in his own territory. Schiller, for example,
treats the subject in The Antiques at Paris as follows:
Was der Griechen Kunst erschaen That which Grecian art created,
Mag der Franke mit den Waen The Frank wants, with his weapons,
Fhren nach der Seine Strand, To bring back to the banks of the Seine,
Und in prangenden Museen And in his glorious museums
Zeig er seine Siegstrophen He displays his trophies of war
Dem erstaunten Vaterland! To the amazed fatherland!
Ewig werden sie ihm schweigen, Forever they will be silent to him,
Nie von den Gestellen steigen Never climbing down from their pedestals
In des Lebens frischen Reihn. Into lifes fresh rows.
Der allein besitzt die Musen, He alone possesses the muses
Der sie trgt im warmen Busen; Who bears them warmly in his bosom;
Dem Vandalen sind sie Stein. To the vandals they are stone.
9
That is what the Bach-missionaries would have to teach. Should, however, the
foreigner, the farmer, and the savage be more taken by the art that they acquire
through gramophone horns or telephone lines, {45} the Bach Society need not
despair: few are the religious societies who are discouraged when at rst their
work does not succeed. Every breach in the lines will be lled by another un-
daunted missionary, and so on through centuries and millennia.
But in Germany, where Bach came into the world, the Bach Society today
should confer upon him the rank of something like an absolute artistic dictator,
to speak in contemporary terms, who calls the hard-pressed German music back
to its senses. He alone is capable of bearing witness, with godly authority, to its
own eternal laws; he alone, nally and for the rst time clearly heard, would be
capable of expelling all who, with commercial interests in place of musical abil-
ity, act out the part of Minister of Musical Reconstruction, expelling them back
into the dark depths from which like a locust swarm they arose and surged de-
structively over the artistic elds. All hail the Bach Society!
Urlinie and voice-leading. The concept of the Urlinie weighs heavily upon the
souls of so many young composers. Because they know of nothing with which to
oppose it, they toss up their hands, as if to say that they place the individual feel-
ing that they seek to express above everything pertaining to the Urlinie. Now, it
doesnt take a Lessing
10
to recognize in this gesture an inadmissible mixing of
arts: upraised arms belong at best to gymnastics, not to poetry or music. In fact,
if one sees what these young composers have to oer, what they actually express,
only then does one understand why they throw up their hands. They rst ought
to realize that their feeling is not in any way an artistically appropriate feeling, un-
less it expresses itself musically in such a way that the diatonic Urlinie appears of
its own accord, behind their backs, as it were. When I ask if perhaps they hold in
their hearts something against voice-leading, they vigorously deny it, out of a
conviction that, however one writes music, voice-leading is inevitable. But is not
the revolt against the Urlinie the same as a revolt against voice-leading? Again,
they rst ought to realize that their voice-leading is not artistically valid voice-
leading, so long as it is not derived from an Urlinie. But to be sure, if they were
to comprehend all of this, that their feeling is no feeling, their voice-leading no
voice-leading, they would still beand here my sympathy with the truly pitiful
comes into playincapable of bringing forth feelings and voice-leading in an ar-
tistically useful and valid way unless they were favored by God. This certainly
does not excuse me, however, from returning once more in this context to the Ur-
linie, specically in its role as the source of voice-leading. I have chosen the Pre-
lude No. 5 in D minor from Bachs Twelve Little Preludes, which was presented in
the main text of this volume.
In Fig. 1a, the notes of the Urlinie can be seen in the two-voice Ursatz. One may
already observe that this setting is somewhat freer than the voice-leading that
would be formed in the setting of an actual cantus rmusthe material given
here would not be enough for a cantus rmus settingbut in any case the purity
tonwi lle 5
212
9
Friedrich Schiller, Die Antiken zu Paris, composed in 1800 in reaction to the organized plunder-
ing of ancient artistic treasures carried out during Napoleons Italian campaign of 1796.
10
Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (172981), German dramatist, critic, and aesthetician. In his Lao-
con: On the Limits of Painting and Poetry (1766), Lessing sought to dene the separate functions of
painting and poetry, holding that the former concerns itself with spatial relationships of a seminal
moment, while the latter concerns itself with movement, and must depict events in temporal se-
quence.
in the progression of intervals is in accordance with the precepts of strict counter-
point. Fig. 1b oers a prolongation of Fig. 1a. On what is this based? Simply on the
fact that an octave descent is called upon to help express the retention of a single
Urlinie note and a single interval (the third or tenth): without aecting the mean-
ing of the principal progression, it provides an opportunity to increase the musi-
cal content, to generate motives, to express small-scale multiplicity and unity
in short, to bring a stationary note to life. Although within the octave descent the
voice-leading may alsoand this has its own justicationcomply with the de-
mands of strict counterpoint, its principal validity remains the derivation from
the fundamental voice-leading in Fig. 1a, which alone authenticates it as an oc-
tave descent, that is, as the interpretation of exactly one note and one interval.
The prolongation in Fig. 1c follows: it is based on the insertion of chromatic
notes, which are forbidden in strict counterpoint, but which here in free compo-
sition take the place of the diatonic steps, in order to give the appearance of ca-
dential closure. The justication of this voice-leading lies once again above all in
its derivation from b) and a),
11
even if it also has its own justication. It is exactly
the same with the subsequent prolongations in d), e), and f): all of them can be
related to the voice-leading in a), b), and c). So, one has to say that if the nal re-
alization were not traceable to the Urlinies voice-leading in a), by means of the
prolongations in e), d), c), and b), it would not have the cogency and perfection
that we admire in it.
Accordingly, we stand here before several voice-leading levels, mounted on
the rst of the Urlinie notes. But this entity, far beyond everything purely con-
cerned with voice-leadingprecisely in this expansion lies its true signicance
moreover bears witness to tonality, becomes one with it, and constructs synthe-
sis and form! {46}
Now I hope people will understand me when I say that, just as, on the one
hand, only the feeling for the Urlinie brought to the masters the capability for im-
provisation as the original foundation of their art of elaboration and synthesis
(thus in a narrower sense it also provided the logic for the prolongational trans-
formations), on the other hand, those who are not truly called must lack the arts
of improvisation, elaboration, synthesis, and prolongation, since they have been
denied a sure grasp of the Urlinie, from which alone all of these capabilities and
arts arise. Those creating without the Urlinie must therefore painstakingly piece
together a whole out of ideas and motives of dissimilar origin and dissimilar
goals as wellthe wide range of crescendo, accelerando, etc. should not deceive
one about this: it is only the throwing up of hands out of embarrassmentand
those who recreate without recourse to the Urlinie must proceed bar by bar, like
many old men who read what is written or printed by moving their heads along
the lines.
Synthesis has been discussed suciently in the main text, but regarding pro-
longation I want to take an important example, in order to clearly distinguish
myself from the young composers: the case of the symphonist Bruckner, who in
many respects, after all, is considered to be their master. (In the appreciation, in-
deed the awe, of the ideas that he himself unfortunately cared to call themes, I
completely agree with his most glowing admirers, but the question of his de-
ployment of musical motives is of secondary consideration beside the more im-
portant issues of synthesis and the art of prolongation.) In point of fact the art
of prolongation, as it is seen in our Fig. 1b, was not at all attainable for a Bruck-
ner; his ear could not even, in many cases, hear the beginning and end of a mo-
tion as an entity. (I am thinking, for example, of the close of the rst movement
of the Seventh Symphony, 28 bars before the appearance of the nal pedal-point,
and of the beginning of the rst movement of the Ninth Symphony, bars 25,
etc.) The two points remain without inner relationship to one another; and
everything shoved and squeezed in between, though executed with so much art
on an individual level, exhausts itself purely physically without any concern for
connection (e.g., through the span of a third, fourth, fth, sixth, or octave, which,
however, must be present if the motion is to have any comprehensive coherence).
Ultimately, such a purposeless mass represents nothing more than the throwing-
up of hands of the young fanatics
12
mentioned earlier. But that is the fate of
Bruckner, who also after all presents us, before and after, with wonderful tone-
paintingswhich is more than can be said for the legions that we hear perform-
ing nothing but the gymnastics of feeling, as it were, without our once hearing
from them an intelligent word of music!
German Form. The German nation should deeply regret the fact that nature de-
nied to Goethe, the prince of poets, access to music. Whatever path he took in
order to approach music, however he methodically worked out the received the-
ories, as was his custom, nothing enabled him to overcome his original incapac-
ity. Moreover, the theories that were provided to him were thoroughly inade-
Miscellanea
213
11
The original text gives von b) und c), an error.
12
Gefhlsschwngler, a word made up by Schenker, from Gefhlsschwang (ood of emotion).
quate. Thus, his observations were restricted mainly to the rhetorical and visual
arts. But within a well-dened area of inquiry, in which all the arts share com-
mon traits regardless of the individual laws of each particular art form, such
ideas, even if they do not refer directly to music, are nonetheless relevant to it. So,
for example, when Goethe writes (in Diderots Versuch ber die Malerei):
. . . Such an artist, a nation, a century of such artists constructs the rules
of art, by example and in theory, long after art itself has appeared. From
their spirit and their hand spring forth proportions, forms, and shapes,
which natures creative power lls with substance. They are not con-
cerned with ephemeral particulars, they do not conspire amongst them-
selves in order to pass o awkwardness as correctness, rather, they con-
struct rules autonomously, following the laws of art. These laws remain
true in the nature of the creative genius, just as nature in the larger sense
always dutifully maintains the organic laws.
It is certainly not a question of in which nation, or at which time, were
these laws discovered and followed. It is not a question of whether in
some other place, at some other time, or under dierent circumstances,
one might have deviated from them, or whether one might substitute
convention for the rule of law. Neither is it a question of whether the au-
thentic rules were ever discovered or obeyed. Rather, one must boldly
arm that they had to have been discovered, and that, if we cannot as-
cribe them to the genius, we have in fact received them from him. They
are that which he in his profound cultivation feels, [the laws] whose
sphere of inuence he does not fail to recognize.
Or:
. . . Nature appears to operate for its own sake; the artist operates as a
human being, for humanitys sake. From that which nature grants us, we
select in life the desirable and enjoyable only sparingly. {47} Everything
that the artist oers to humanity should be, for the senses, cogent and
pleasing, provocative and alluring, enjoyable and satisfyingand for the
spirit, nourishing, educating, and uplifting. Thus the artist, grateful to the
nature that bore him, returns a second nature, but one that is felt, thought,
and perfected by humanity.
For this to occur, the genius, the artist who is called, must negotiate
the laws and rules that nature itself prescribed to him, laws and rules
which do not contradict nature. These are his true wealth, for through
them he learns to command not only the vast wealth of nature but also to
rely upon the richness of sentiment.
We possess countless such statements by Goethe, profoundly illuminating the
arts in general. When he speaks specically about music, however, about its pos-
tulates and eects, his thoughts go awry, no matter how general his pronounce-
ments. For example, he writes in Sprche in Prosa:
The value of art perhaps appears most eminently in music, because it has
no matter that must be accounted for. It is all form and content, and it el-
evates and ennobles everything that it expresses.
To the poet, who is accustomed to think in terms of matter, it appears that
music possesses none. He therefore concludes that it is all form and content, but
does not know what to say about wherein or by what means it manages to be all
form and content. The last words clearly betray that he is still unconsciously
thinking about matter-oriented music, that elevates and ennobles everything
that it expresses.
Or:
Music is sacred and profane. The sacred is completely in accordance with
musics virtue, and this is where it has the most pronounced eect on life,
an eect unchanging throughout the ages. The profane is completely jovial.
Or:
The sacredness of church music and the joviality and playfulness of folk
tunes are the two foci around which music orbits. At each of these points
it inevitably demonstrates a specic eect: devotion or dance. Mixing the
two is a mistake, watered down they become insipid, and when music
tries to be descriptive or didactic or the like, it becomes cold.
Obviously Goethe, when using the phrase all form and content, must have
been thinking only of the characteristics of accountable matter, which, however,
with respect to form and content, say nothing about the real or the essential.
About how music generates itself, claries itself, how it supplies its existence, its
art, within and beyond itself, how through the Eros of the diatonic it rises out of
Noise and Chaos, how it presents its own original life-form, full of sense and pur-
pose, governed by the Moira of the Urlinieabout all of this Goethe knew noth-
tonwi lle 5
214
ing. The accomplishments of our great masters remained completely foreign to
him, in terms of their intrinsic value as well as their relationship to the past and
present of art. Beethoven himself, whom Goethe had the opportunity to know
personally, was only an artistic celebrity to him, not an artistic experience. It was
certainly not by chance that he let Beethovens and Schuberts letters and dedica-
tions go unanswered. He did not see the magnicent expanse of blue heavens,
with the light of so many suns shining on him and on his nation! He did not hear
the voices of the godly, of Bach, Handel, Emanuel Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Beetho-
ven, Schubert! He, who studied all the regions of the earth and all generations,
rendering in German verse their most priceless possessions, missed that which
could not have been nearer to him in time or place: a German world of form that
stands alone in the history of art! Granted, our masters did not take pen in hand
to give their own accounts of their artistic views and creations, or to oer expla-
nations to each other, as did Goethe, Schiller, and many other poets. Principles of
music criticism were lacking in their world, and so it came to be that a general
comprehension of the youngest and least accessible art was not nor could be
achieved. Thus, when one spoke of or wrote about German form in general, the
forms of German music did not come into question, as if among German arts the
art of music did not exist. But who dares to doubt that Goethe would have found
only the proudest, most noble words to glorify the authentically German formal
will and formal capacity, if only he had grasped its glory!? With all other arts one
must be generous, to the Greek alone one remains forever indebted. Thus con-
cluded Goethe his observations on world art history,
13
thereby implying not only
the validity of comparisons based on relative worth and rank, but also subtly ex-
pressing his consciousness of his own superiority. What better conrmation of
this could there have been than that which he would have drawn from the recog-
nition {48} that the form of German music also far exceeded the forms of other
nations! What a comfort it would have been for him, in his solitudeand for his
nation in its solitudeto know that he was not the only one who bore witness
to the German capacity for form; rather, he was accompanied by the masters of
tonal art!
Why do I speak of this today? Because German intellectuals, literati, and dil-
letantes do not tire of calling into question the German capacity for form, and for
this they constantly cite Goethe in evidence. Accustomed to sning around all
the intellectual marketplaces and appealing to the authority of Goethe as well,
they are always bringing up his great esteem for foreign literature as proof of the
lesser value of German literature. They do this without being able to distinguish
between the discriminating mind of the chosen and the incapacity of the uncho-
sen for discrimination; without being able to achieve through their constant ad-
justments and repositionings (which are obviously merely tautological) the
slightest success in their contemplation of art and the laws in which it seeks to de-
velop itself, in which it remains immutable. They lack the intellectual power to
comprehend why Goethe, in his incomparably beautiful German, untiringly
praised the vocation of genius; or why he, to cite one example, placed the great-
est of the French at an appropriate distance from the Greeks (see above) and even
from himself. Of course, it would never occur to the literati and intellectuals to
deny that a Voltaire was capable of depth or closure, as Goethe himself does; or,
confronted with a Diderot, to speak of his well-known sophistical guile, or even
of a surprise attack from the deformed French [franzsischen Fratzensprung] . . .
against which this nation, in its most serious matters, can never be suciently on
its guard. But they always have Goethe at the ready, whenever anyone dares tell
them the truth: the German too has form, one even deeper and truer than, for ex-
ample, the French. Indeed, he goes even further, into the realm of politics, he who
proclaims this truth as much for the honor of art and truth as for the comfort of
this nation, which is so unspeakably despised and vilied the world over. And all
of this is because they still havent a clue about German musical art, they still set
it aside when considering the question of German formal will and formal ability,
and all because to their star witness, Goethe, nature denied access to music!
It might appear that in saying all of this I am trespassing on foreign territory.
Not so. I have more right to pull poetry, sculpture, painting, and philosophy into
my eld of vision than those intellectuals do to discuss a German musical art,
which is certainly not by any means within their grasp. I mean, of course, when it
is not a matter of defending German art against the slipshod eorts, currently in
fashion, resulting from German aversion to and incapacity for form. In that case,
I hold fast to the maxim: I am only concerned with the musical art that I know.
Those multicultural window-shoppers would like to make an example of me, but
they should rst listen to my teaching about German formal capacity before they
presume to claim that the Italian, French, Anglo-Saxon, Buddhist, Japanese, Chi-
nese, and God-knows-what-other forms are superior to the German. It is time
that Germans came to know the highest spiritual good they still possess, one that
can never be stolen, even if all their other possessions are taken from them.
I could even call the attitude of those reckless, irresponsible intellectuals a se-
Miscellanea
215
13
Aus Kunst und Alterthum.
rious crime, if I didnt know better than any of them how much more dicult
the approach to German musical art and its world of form is than the approach
to the syrupy, lascivious cabarets and little forms that win the cheap applause of
all the world. If only I could make the German musical forms appear just once,
as they really are, before the very ears of the intellectuals, they would under-
standprovided they brought along their earsthat this art had, has, and will
forever have no equal, and that the ears of humanity have still not completely
opened to it. And who knows then if the children, whose little hands one holds
so happily during their youthful games, and the adults, who stand as children be-
fore this artif all of these children, great and small, might one day become ca-
pable of art?
Epigones. The intellectually and mechanically gifted set about building a city in
the plains of Shinear and erecting a tower with its top reaching to heaven. Since
a task of such enormity exceeded their lifespans, they were forced to entrust its
continuation to their descendants. But these did not have the genius of their fore-
bears. They no longer understood the original plans, yet they continued to build
frantically, overcondent that they would make a name for themselves. Thus
the Lord in the fullness of his mercy put an end to their passion for building,
thence he scattered them across the earth, so that they would be forced to stop
constructing their city.When construction of the tower began, the creatures {49}
still possessed a single tongue and language, but afterward they neither under-
stood the language of their ancestors nor the languages of each other.
This is how I read the venerable legend of the Tower of Babel (Genesis 11). It
recounts in vague outlines the tragedy of epigonism, a tragedy that repeats itself
in all types of human activities, that has already repeated itself innumerable times
throughout history and in all lands, and that will be repeated innumerable times
to come. The hallmark of epigonism remains the confusion of language: it is no
longer the single tongue and language of the genius!
In his text on Winckelmann,
14
Goethe cites a passage from the Roman histo-
rian Vellejus Paterculus that reads as follows:
Anyone who follows the discourses of the era will discover that the gram-
marians, painters, and sculptors went the way of orators; moreover,
excellence in art was limited to a very small period of time. I always
wonderwithout ever arriving at the fundamental truthwhy several
similarly capable artists were concentrated in the same era, and united
in the furtherence of the same art. Among the probable reasons I nd
the following most important: emulation feeds talent; as soon as envy is
aroused admiration turns to imitation, and cultivated with the greatest
diligence this imitation quickly reaches its zenith. It is dicult to remain
there for long, however, and what does not progress must regress. And so
at rst we take the trouble to follow our leaders; but then, when we de-
spair of ever equaling them, our diligence fades with our hopeand ul-
timately one stops reaching for that which one cannot attain. One no
longer strives for that which has already been achieved by others, but in-
stead looks for something new. Thus we leave behind that in which we
cannot excel, we go out and seek a dierent goal for our strivings. It seems
to me that this vacillation provides the greatest impediment to bringing
forth fully realized works.
But Goethe does not entirely approve of this line of thought, prefacing it with
the following remarks:
Vellejus Paterculus observes with great interest the similar rising and
falling of all the arts. Of particular interest to him, a man of the world, is
the idea that they were able to keep themselves at the pinnacle of achieve-
ment for only a short time. From where he stood he was not capable of
seeing all of art as an animate being (zwon) that must of necessity present
an imperceptible beginning, a gradual maturation, a brilliant moment of
perfection, and a gradual decline, just like any other organic being, except
that in this case it is divided among many individuals. He provides only
human factors as causes. These are certainly not out of the question as
partially relevant, but they do not satisfy his keen intelligence, because he
believes that a pattern is operative hereone that cannot be assembled
from random elements.
Compare this with Goethes reading of the Babel story and the following
thoughts from Sprche in Prosa:
The struggle between the old, the prevailing, and the persistent on the one
hand, and evolution, cultivation, and transformation on the other, is al-
ways the same. From all order stems pedantry. In order to break free of it,
one destroys it, and some time passes before one realizes that things must
tonwi lle 5
216
14
Winckelmann und sein Jahrhundert.
be put in order again. Classicism and Romanticism, corporatism and in-
dividualism, holding fast to and shattering the foundation: it is always the
same conict, begetting again in the end a new one. The wisest solution
would be to balance this struggle in such a way that neither side would
lose out to the other and both would be considered equal. This wisdom,
however, has not been granted to humanity, and neither does it appear to
be the will of God.
15
Notice how these closing remarks resonate with his closing remarks on the
Babel story:
But this attempt went awry just like that rst endeavor: they were not des-
tined to be at once prosperous and prudent, neither both numerous and
united. Yahweh confused them, the work remained unnished, the people
dispersed. The world was populated but divided.
16
Goethe is in agreement with the oldest poets of the Holy Book, through whom
the Lord says: Come, let us go down and confuse their very language, so that not
one of them will understand the speech of another. Epigonism is undoubtedly
the will of God.
Among a people who are no longer (or still not) capable of expressing what
they would like to say arises the genius, who alone is capable of saying what he
has to say, what he wants to say. He is thus the only mouthpiece of humanity. His
tongue is the rst to give things their names and so create them for the rst time.
The fact that the genius derives the laws of art from nature makes him ca-
pable, because of the internal coherence of those laws, of constructing an art that
as a sort of second nature displaced nature itself (in the above-mentioned letter
to Prince Galitzin, Beethoven remarks how art is grounded in nature . . . and na-
ture is grounded in art). The genius takes the fth from nature, and anchors {50}
in it the triad, the relationships between triads and between scale-steps, and all
diatonic relationships. Through articial artistic procedures, he arrives at the
fourth as the inversion of the fth, and further, in the area of voice-leading,
achieves coherence through the use of fth-, fourth-, octave-, and third-spans. All
of these are elaborations of individual chords, and bring motives into the world,
just as the elaboration of a single triad creates all the individual ones that are also
expressed horizontally by the Urlinie. This reects in a multitude of ways the mo-
tives urge to unfold and reproduce, and our souls need for causality, etc.
17
Must
we not then recognize in the life of the tones a life just like our own, dependant
on reproductive urges and the laws of the soul, just as we see our own lives re-
ected in the lives of animals and plants? Are not human life and nature in gen-
eral reected in art?
The epigone, on the other hand, lacks the power to introduce nature into art
in such a way that the artwork belongs equally to art and to nature. Neither by
creating nor by imitating is he able to experience this communing of art and na-
ture. He cannot maintain his hold on the fth, and without it and its fruits he
goes astray, into a nature that is completely unrelated to art, wherein it only ap-
pears to operate of its own will. In this raw nature, which is nothing like nature,
he wastes the better part of his strength. He himself feels and insists that he is a
child of nature. In order to underscore this point, he again and again spews out
phrases such as my feelings, I am rst and foremost a human being, and the
like, thus distancing himself more and more from art. He understands neither the
essence nor the language of art, and even less that of the genius, and he utters
their names falsely. (Perhaps the only hint of what might deserve to be called aris-
tocratic thinking can be seen when he exhorts his contemporaries, for heavens
sake, not to deny him recognition in the way that their predecessors denied rec-
ognition to Bach or Beethoven. This conjures up the image of ranks of others,
supposedly likewise unappreciated: Stamitz, Richter, Schobert, Kalliwoda, Koze-
luch, etc. May he not be counted among them!)
The life of an epigone is this:
He is born, he exists: The day of his baptism should have been the day of
Creation (Goethe).
18
His ancestors having passed away, he thinks that their ideas are buried with
them. Thus he believes he is called to renew humanity with his own body and
soul. In the language of a contemporary: because for usand this is really call-
ing, not only the right but the law of all youththe world did not exist before
we created it!
Miscellanea
217
15
Aus Kunst und Althertum.
16
Aus meinem Leben, part 1, book 4.
17
[S]This topic is treated in my New Musical Theories and Fantasies (Universal Edition, Vi-
enna). [Schenkers use of the term motive here is more consistent with his earlier published writings
on the topic, such as can be found in Harmonielehre (p. 4/p. 4). In the published version of Der freie
Satz, Schenker frequently uses the term motive in a derogatory sense, to refer to what he considered
to be trivial and obvious repetitions. He contrasts these with diminutions, repetitions generated on
distinct structural levels and serving to unify a musical work organically (see 25154).]
18
This is taken from the poems grouped under the rubric Sprichwrtlich.
For the call of the testator, as Goethe expresses it,
. . . mchten sie doch zugleich bedenken If you would only at the same time keep
in mind
Was wir ihnen als Eingebinde schenken. Everything that we bequeathed to you.
19
he has no ear. He doesnt learn, he cannot learn anything. He doesnt travel, he re-
mains decrepit and foolish until death.
Reverence is unknown to him. (By way of contrast, Goethe writes: My sen-
timents were always by nature inclined towards reverence, and it would have re-
quired great force to shake me from my belief in the venerable).
20
In this the
epigone is ungrateful from the bottom of his heart.
And even though he does not measure up to the standards of art in general
(or, what amounts to the same thing, though he is not good enough to be con-
sidered among the best of all time), he explains that above all he wants to meet
the standards of his own time. In this way he believes that he will be asssured of
his place in history. Meeting the standards of his own time for him signies set-
ting the automobile, the cinema, the airplane, and the like to music, publishing
art as if it were the best-informed morning, midday, or evening newspaper. Un-
fortunately, he is too weak-minded to realize that later epigones, following the
same reasoning, will do the same thing: forget their forebears, himself included.
He lives for overviews instead of insight, he fancies himself objective (his fa-
vorite word), but he knows nothing about everything.
His reality, his calling, is to destroy anything that is grounded and coherent.
His internal chaos allows him to tolerate nothing but chaos externally as well.
Presumptuous and self-deluded, he takes criticism as if it were intended as
a vicious personal attack. Yet he becomes surprisingly amiable, even humble,
whenawkwardlyin order to admit to a shortcoming, he casually drops in
ones ear or onto paper the little word, blanketed in fog, error. To him, his de-
structive acts are at worst nothing but an error. He denitely does not want to
understand himself, and has every reason not to want to.
The genius usually goes it alone, but the epigone is always among the masses.
Thus, epigonism is always a phenomenon of the masses, and obeys the laws that
are characteristic of the masses in the political and social spheres as well.
The strength of numbers substitutes for talent in the creation of new cultural
values. The masses unfortunately have no idea that talent is inversely propor-
tional to quantity. {51} If the solitary epigone is unable to do anything, a mass of
epigones will be able to do even less.
Among the masses there prevails a secret desire (albeit a very strong one) to
escape the compulsion to work that nature holds over them and over all human-
ity. The masses are unt for learning or for work, but always hungry for the fruits
of foreign talent and foreign labor. Even though nature did not grant hereditary
succession to the genius, the few geniuses that occur naturally would be more
than sucient for a humanity that is in general very limited, if only the masses
had the sense to avail themselves of other aristocratic systems (self-willed, not
god-willed) during periods in which genius was absent [Genie-Vakanz], and to
concede the value of hereditary privileges (again, self-willed, not god-willed).
How much better it would be for the masses if they honored somewhat less the
selected person and instead, with the fear of God, honored that nature which
through its selection bestows upon them the fulllment that would otherwise be
inaccessible to them. But the masses do not grasp the true meaning of selection.
To them all selection, all aristocraticismbe it manifest in the genius, in royalty,
nobility, etc.is a thorn in their side. This is why they attempt nothing less than
to exchange all types of selection for the power of the masses. They invoke
human dignity,human freedom, and progress, as if each human face by na-
ture signied human dignity, and each human existence human freedom and
progressas if nature did not likewise eect the dignity of all other living beings,
including animals and plants. The masses have no idea that those precious goods
are things not of this world, that they only fall on those who are called by the se-
lection of nature and not by majority vote, social or parliamentary device, and
the like. And so they clear their path of all impediments in order to actualize their
delusions by force and organization. They cast o royalty (but at least they refrain
from deposing the queen bee!), republicanize Shakespeare, and commit other
similarly ridiculous acts. At the same time, they fail to notice the cruel, almost
cocky joke played by history, turning their own battle cry against them: What is
your value? You take the trouble to be born, nothing more (Figaro, in the com-
edy by the so-called adventurer Beaumarchais)not only against royalty and
nobility but also against the masses themselves, who base their new human no-
bility once again on none other than the value of birth, on nothing more than
their taking the trouble to be born!
Thus, the new mass nobility governs a plebeian age: Authority? None.
Life? Chaos, at best the search for barren systems. Youth? A paraphrase of de-
tonwi lle 5
218
19
This couplet follows immediately upon the citation of note 18.
20
Aus meinem Leben, part 1, book 1.
velopment, again in the best case the search for schemata. Freedom? The free-
dom to have no ideas, to speak a sort of corrupted high German, to wear patent-
leather shoes, short skirts, and the like. Brain? Lacking rened tastes, they stu it
full, no matter whether with truth or error, just as a hungry person stus his
stomach with whatever is at hand. Their souls smell of death (Heraclitus).
(The only possible hint of an aristocratic mindset that is also perhaps present
in the masses is a longing for something better, but this trace is obscured by a
more powerful desire to be free from unpleasing work, or from work in general.)
And the end?Twilight of the Epigones.
The end of the individual epigone is the following:
The more he loses his way in nature, the more he separates himself from the
rest of the mass individuals, even though he remains part of the masses in general.
Eventually he is left distorted, disproportionate, corrupted and crippled, standing
apart from those other individuals in untutored solitude (thus only connected to
nature, not to art), just as in nature one animal, one rock, or one tree stands apart
from others of its kind. He erroneously calls such brutality, such devolution into
raw nature higher being or technical progress. Finally, nature closes in on him
and buries him under its weight, and art nds no reason to protect him. Goethe,
in Diderot ber die Malerei, writes: The artist must know the limits of his abili-
ties, he must cultivate his dominion within the connes of nature. However, he
ceases to be an artist when he merges with nature or dissolves into it. And else-
where: The person who gives free rein to his impulses and appetites distances
himself more and more from the unity of the whole, indeed even from those that
might be similar to him. He makes no demands on humanity, and thereby sepa-
rates himself from humans. This holds equally true in the moral and the artistic
realms, because when all human actions derive from a common source, they all
produce similar results.
But the end of the epigonous masses is the following:
They become the multitude of tyrant masses (Goethe).
21
Destruction becomes an occupation, whose prots are shared by the sly and
cunning, as if they were business associates.{52}
Still, the masses babble on, tomorrow like today, about freedom, self-deter-
mination, and progress in politics and in the religion of art. But it is only: The
common people take folk remedies, with neither a doctor nor a prescription.
22
Expressed more forcefully: after taking a step towards its trainer, the horse re-
mains a horse; so, too, the masses, after taking a step forward, remain masses. In
the end, weary of their fruitless eorts, they feel a stirring of desire for external
salvation. The radiant form [Lichtgestalt] appears. Although he sees it, the epi-
gone does not recognize in it the human being that yesterday he sought in him-
self, in others. He revolts against the radiant form, though resistance is futile. The
radiant form draws the circle, like the sun, giving light and warmth, creating and
developing new life.
It is foolish to wish away the epigone: his coming is inevitable. It is unneces-
sary to want to evict the masses from the earth, to de-mass them: nature takes
care of that. Let them come then, singly and en masse. They will not unhinge
nature, selection, and its derived aristocratic institution of genius, the heroes of
nation and humanity! Does not history repeat itself exactly in the same way? It
certainly repeats itself in succeeding epigones with geniuses. Because just as epi-
gonism is willed by God, so too is genius.

Look! Diotima suddenly cried out to me.

I looked, and wished to be swept away in the almighty vision.
Athens lay before us like some immense shipwreck, when the gales
have died down and the sailors have ed, and the corpses of the wrecked
eet lie unrecognizable upon the sand bar. The deserted columns stood
before us like naked tree trunks in a forest that had been ready to leaf out
in the evening, but had gone up in ames at night.
Here, said Diotima, one learns to be calm about ones fate, be it
good or evil.
Here one learns to be calm about everything, I continued. If the
harvesters who worked this eld had lled their barns with the harvest,
nothing would have been lost, and I would be content to remain here as
a gleaner. But who really gained from this?
All of Europe, replied one of our companions.
Oh, sure! I cried, they dragged o and sold amongst themselves the
columns and statues. They valued the noble forms highly merely on ac-
count of their strangeness, just as one values parrots and monkeys.
Dont say that! he responded. If the soul were really missing from
all these beautiful things, it would have been because it could neither be
bought nor taken away.
Miscellanea
219
21
Epigramme, 53.
22
Epigramme, 18.
Indeed! I cried. That soul perished even before the destroyers fell
upon Attica. Not until the houses and temples were deserted did the wild
beasts brave the gates and alleyways.
For whoever possesses that soul, Diotima said comfortingly, Athens
still stands like a blossoming fruit tree. The artist himself can easily com-
plete the torso.
Hlderlin, Hyperion
23
Beethovens metronome markings. The metronome markings in Beethovens
symphonies are his own. In 1817, the Viennese publishing rm of Steiner issued a
pamphlet giving the tempo markings of the movements for each of the rst eight
symphonies and the Septet, Op. 20.
24
In 1826, the markings for the Ninth Sym-
phony were added.
25
In the rst volume of his collected essays on Beethoven,
Nottebohm has carefully compiled everything ascertainable from the sources
concerning Beethovens opinions of the metronome, both for and against.
26
Be-
cause Nottebohm himself recognized the shortcomings of the metronome, it was
easy for him to align himself with Beethovens point of view, and so he writes:
A valid point that can be made against the metronome is the incongruity
of its even pulse with a pulse that is in fact musical, and the diculty that
thus arises in trying to base the tempo of a composition on the uniform
ticking of a machine. It is well known that it is dicult to play a piece
through completely to the beat of a metronome, and that metronome
markings applied to the same piece in dierent eras are rarely in complete
accord. The objections that one could makeand that Schindler in part
did makeagainst the metronome could be grounded on these bases.
However, all of these objections are not enough to convince us, as Schind-
ler was convinced, of the low esteem in which the master held the metro-
nome, or to make us wary of all metronome markings. On the other
hand, we should not allow ourselves to believe that Beethoven neither
undervalued nor overvalued the metronome, or that his original metro-
nomic indications {53} should be maintained as the only ones worthy of
our attention.
27
We could of course be more informed about the value of Beethovens indica-
tions in a much more reasonable manner if only we knew how Beethoven resolved
the conict between freedom in the performance of his works and the rigidity of
the metronome in the moment in which he determined his metronome mark-
ings. Imponderable and inexpressible tempo adjustments (the necessity of which
Nottebohm does not doubt: see p. 134 of his essay
28
), together with those that are
expressible and thus clearly indicated, pi allegro, pi adagio, adagio, rit., a fermata
sign, and so on: was all this the concern of the Master? Did he base his metro-
nomization on an imagined orchestral performance, or merely on a piano tran-
scription? The value of Beethovens indications depends on the answers to these
questions; but who today would dare to propose these answers? Nottebohm re-
signs himself to the explanation that I quoted above (Tonwille 5, p. 10/I, p. 182).
In view of the impossibility of completely clarifying those questions here, I
recommend a simple means of testing Beethovens indications. It is well known
that Mlzels metronome is based on the divisions of the minute, so that the
equation given by the composer corresponds to the number of beats in one min-
ute: taking the Fifth Symphony as an example, 108, 92, 96, and 84 beats in the four
movements, respectively. Anyone who has a pocket watch outtted with a second
hand can use it as a substitute for the metronome, at least insofar as it enables one
to establish the number of beats per minute. Moreover, the pocket watch oers a
signicant advantage over the loudly ticking metronome, namely, that one can
attend to the artistic liberties of a performance without being disturbed by the
metronomes constant, pendular beats. In the rst movement of the symphony
the beat is equal to one half note, i. e. one bar; thus, we have to complete 108 bars
per minute. In the second movement, , 92 in 3/8 time yields 92:3 or roughly
thirty bars per minute. In the third movement, . 96 in 3/4 time gives exactly
tonwi lle 5
220
23
Friedrich Hlderlins Hyperion oder der Eremit in Griechenland, the story of a disillusioned
combatant for the liberation of Greece, was published in two volumes in 1797 and 1799. The charac-
ter of Diotima is a reincarnation of the spirit of Ancient Greece.
24
Bestimmung des musikalischen Zeitmasses nach Mlzels Metronom. Erste Lieferung. Beethoven.
Sinfonien Nr. 18 und Septett von dem Autor selbst bezeichnet (Vienna, S. A. Steiner, 1817).
25
[S]The metronome markings for the piano sonatas are not Beethovens, except the ones for
Op. 106; see my editions of the sonatas for Universal Edition. [Schenkers edition was reissued in 1975
by Dover Books, New York.]
26
Gustav Nottebohm, Metronomische Bezeichnungen, Beethoveniana: Aufstze und Mit-
theilungen (Leipzig and Winterthur: Rieter-Biedermann, 1872), pp. 12637.
27
Beethoveniana, p. 130.
28
Nottebohm refers here to the whole of Beethovens artistic nature, and to the fact that con-
temporaries reported his preference for rhythmically free performances of his music. If his failure to
provide metronome markings was at times deliberate, this may not have resulted from indecisiveness
(Beethoveniana, pp. 134 35).
96 bars per minute. In the last movement, 84 in common time yields 84:2 or
forty-two bars per minute. If it turned out that after one minute one had in fact
covered the required number measures, enjoying all the liberties of performance,
the Masters metronome marking would thereby be conrmed, regardless of the
manner in which he himself may have calculated it.
This means of confronting Beethovens metronome markings leads in many
cases to the surprising observation that he desired a performance markedly
faster than todays. The observation is conrmed by every conductor who con-
sults a metronome (see, for example, Weingartner on the performance of Bee-
thovens symphonies,
29
and compare the citation from Nottebohm on p. 10/
i, p. 182). This clearly represents a more signicant problem than the rst one de-
scribed. For, while a transcribing or printing error in the metronome markings
cannot be completely ruled out, it is possible that the Master had a denite pur-
pose for these tempos, which now seem too quick for us. Take, for example, the
second movement of the same symphony: who can tell whether Beethovens in-
dication is incorrect, or whether it is really intended to produce a more uid
performance? (Compare in this respect the metronome markings for the second
movement of the Third Symphony.
30
) One has to consider that Beethovens
creative process, like that of all the great masters, was based on improvisation
(more on this on another occasion),
31
to which alone can be credited the achieve-
ment of synthesis in his works. Thus, it is quite possible, even probable, that in
copying his own works he still retained the same breath from whose expression
he initially created them. In other words, while copying he might have soared to-
wards the same distant goals that he had sought in the original creative process!
We, on the other hand, who have not yet begun to learn how to hear his works
let alone to follow such ightsmerely pace o the bars and, being incapable of
synthesis, stroll through the individual moments of beauty, thus losing sight of
the whole. Consider his profound ngerings in the piano works, the delightful
nger exercises brought to light by Nottebohm (who evidently undervalues them
and thus unfortunately presents all too few of them),
32
the curious pedal devices
that I have replicated from the original in my editions of the piano sonatas,
33
and other bold performance techniques, such as changing hands during the ex-
ecution of a single trill in the fugue of Op. 106 (bars 11819, 12122), or his orig-
inal legato, whose eect so struck his contemporaries, etc., etc.: anyone who is
familiar with all of this must conclude that, also in the performance of his sym-
phonies, Beethoven surely stood among the elite, as one of the true Beethoven
conductors! If in directing he relied upon the strangest gestures, {54} as he was
obliged, given that the content demanded them (what a shame that the movie
camera was invented too late), his contempories, for lack of comprehension, as-
sociated them with his deafness instead of with the content. Today, still without
true comprehension, we would at least give him credit for his superior conduct-
ing technique.
In a copy of Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage, Op. 112, Beethoven wrote:
,84 Mlzels metronome. NB In this rst tempo the conductor should lift his
hands as slightly as possible, except in the forte part (in the rst bar a little higher,
then backing o in the second and third bars and returning to the most imper-
ceptible motion in the fourth), so as not to suggest even the slightest disturbance,
rather external calm. Do these words not cast a signicant light upon Beethoven
the conductor?
34
One should never speak about tempo in general without considering the mu-
sical character [Tongebung] upon which tempo depends completely. Returning to
the previous example, if the Master had really insisted on a faster tempo for the
second movement, he undoubtedly was thinking of a lighter, more tender char-
acter for the cellos and violins in the opening of the movement than that which
Miscellanea
221
29
In his monograph On the Performance of Beethovens Symphonies (see note 34 of the Tonwille
essay immediately preceding), Felix Weingartner cautions in general against taking a composers
metronome markings too literally (p. ix). He recommends slightly slower tempi than Beethovens for
the rst two movements of the Fifth Symphony, but approves the composers indications for the
scherzo and nale. All in all, Weingartner seems to suggest that contemporary performances (1890)
are, on the whole, too slow.
30
In his later essay on the Third Symphony, Schenker repeatedly referred to Beethovens metro-
nome mark as leading to the correct interpretation; see Meisterwerk III, pp. 9597/pp. 6566.
31
The fullest treatment of this thesis occurs in the essay On Organicism in Sonata Form in
Meisterwerk II (pp. 4354/pp. 2330).
32
[S]Zweite Beethoveniana: Nachgelassene Aufstze (Leipzig: Rieter-Biedermann, 1887), pp. 356.
[Most of Nottebohms examples are taken from the miscellany of 122 loose manuscript leaves from
Beethovens early years, which was owned by the Viennese collector Johann Nepomuk Kafka, and
which Nottebohm consulted before Kafka sold them to the British Museum in 1875. The entire Kafka
Sketchbook, as these leaves are commonly referred to, was published in facsimile and transcription,
under the editorship of Joseph Kerman, as Ludwig van Beethoven: Autograph Miscellany from Circa
1786 to 1799 (London: British Museum, 1970).]
33
[S]For example, in Op. 31, No. 2, rst movement, bars 14348 and 15359; in Op. 53, nale, bars
101, 105; in Op. 109 and Op. 110; and so on.
34
[S]Otto Jahn, who owned this copy, remarked in his essay on Beethoven and the editions of his
music (in Gesammelte Aufstze ber Musik, [Leipzig,] 1866, pp. 271), in another sense, this com-
mentary is comical.Its tragic.
we now nd appropriate. (I will have more to say about this in my discussions of
the other Beethoven symphonies.)
35
The relationship between tempo and musical character is such a universal law
that even the performance of a crescendo is aected by it. A crescendo that grows
mechanically note by note clashes with the content so much so that it becomes
necessary to slow down the tempo. In contrast to such a prosaic interpretation, a
subtle direction of the tonal mass towards a specic goal, as if the goal were a
point of light, not only makes the tempo more uid but also by means of a psy-
chological illusion makes the crescendo more believable and eective. And so,
perhaps by eliminating all of the distortions that are threatened by a false sense
of musical character, it will be possible to follow Beethoven even in his quicker
temposdespite our incapacity for synthesis.
A Bach Prelude
Mit dieser Welt ists keiner Wege richtig. In this world there is no right path.
Vergebens bist du brav, vergebens tchtig. In vain you are honest, in vain competent.
Sie will uns zahm, sie will sogar uns nichtig! It wants us tamed or even annihilated!
Goethe
36
Man sagt: Eitles Eigenlob stinket; das mag One says that vain self-praise stinks; that
sein: was aber fremder und unge rechter may be. But when it comes to the smell of
Tadel fr einen Geruch habe, dafr hat foreign and unjust blame, for that the
das Publikum keine Nase. public has no nose.
Goethe
37
The World War, which began as a war of thievery supported by secret treaties and
lengthy military buildup, and which was later continued as a war of capital to re-
cover loans that had been lost as a result of German victories, has today become
a war of commerce and culture. It was not that, after the armistice and the peace
treaty imposed upon us, the enemy sent us cultural envoys to convert the Ger-
man barbarians to some sort of culture, namely their own. Quite the contrary:
everything they sent usdiplomats, generals, bankers, journalists, idle talkers,
freeloaders, costly consultants, usurers, carpet-baggers, women activists, fascists,
legionnaires, etc., etc.in fact only conrmed the appropriateness of using Ger-
man culture to rebu them. Thus, the arrogance and tactlessness that those people
assume in their dealings with us, in speech and in writing, in private and in pub-
lic, in clubs and in societies, on water and on land, in cities and in villages, is all
the more unbearable. They impose themselves everywhere, grabbing for them-
selvesthrough force or deceitour best plazas and our most beautiful man-
sions. They shatter the peace of our homes with their uncouth shouting, sit at our
dining room tables, sprawl their bodies, their legs across our benches, and hem
us in for sport.
38
Are we already the worlds handmaiden? Are we already in the
worlds ghetto?
What do you want, you foreigners? What pride do you take in such scorn and
derision? Do you perhaps think that we must be caged by your hatred, because
we are not like you? Must we accept from you whatever comes our way? All of us,
myself included? A thousand times noI must not, I will not! I know you only
too wellwhence you came, whither you are going. But do you know who I am?
I will tell you:
That I am no Sebastian Bach, no Handel, no Beethoven, Haydn, or Mozart,
no Schubert, Mendelssohn, Schumann, or Brahmsthis I know better than all
of you. Before them I am dust, not worthy of the wind that bears it aloft. What
all of you, what each and every one of you do not know, but what I know very
well, is that to you it has not and will never be granted to bring forth even the
likes of me. {55}
Gifted by the grace of our greatest ones, I hold up a mirror to musical art, in
a way that no one has been able to do beforeneither the philosophers of an-
tiquity, the Middle Ages, or the modern era, nor the musicians, music historians,
or aestheticians, nor all of them combined. I am the rst to demonstrate musics
own laws, that which constitutes its own life. I present the soaring ear of the Ger-
man masters, their improvisatory creations, their synthesis. I show their boldness
in the aural dimension, the likes of which have until now been experienced only
in the dimensions of the other senses. Following our masters, I have, as it were,
for the rst time opened the aural dimension to the word and to communication,
thereby enriching human existence with a new dimension.
Until now humanity had only the eye and the handthe ear lay fallow. The
eye took ight, absorbed worldly material for words and writing, for daily life and
art. The hand also took ight, ying even more than the eye, and grasped for
tonwi lle 5
222
35
See the analysis of the Third Symphony in Meisterwerk iii (pp. 9399/pp. 6367).
36
Zahme Xenien.
37
Aus Kunst und Althertum.
38
Sperren sie uns mutwillig: as the verb is missing its normal prex (einsperren), Schenkers mean-
ing is ambiguous.
everything within its reachlands, continents, women, and wares. These two or-
gans were driven by sexual desire.
The artists saw clearly and portrayed masterfully, but all was still mere copy-
ing or representation of the world and its people, as their eyes and hands grasped
and comprehended them. When the human soul came under consideration, it
was depicted as the soul of a creature that, again, lived only by eye and hand. The
ear indeed served the purpose of communication among humans, and even in
the earliest times it may have fullled its function as protection against the ele-
ments, or against enemies (man or beast). But with respect to its own world, the
ear, I say again, still lay completely fallow.
For the rst time the German peoplethe most spiritual and profound of all
peoplescreated wondrous musical art and thereby opened up a new world, one
that had nothing to do with the eye or the hand, or with sexuality. Our great mas-
ters unlocked the ears own realm, its own art; they were the rst to demonstrate
what aural creation and aural ight really are.
If you who are dierently disposed do not believe in the vocation of the Ger-
man people, it is only because you still do not comprehend what kind of salva-
tion would be possible for humanity if, once and for all, it could break free of the
eye and the hand and reach a realm that, unsullied by lies, weapons and the battle
of the sexes, spreads itself wide open in peace and pure spirit like a paradise, while
still reecting that which is most human. We have already reached impenetrable
frontiers. Humanity rules earth, water, and airwill its urge to expand, its eyes,
its hands, encounter other elements? Where? The folly of the demos has reached
its end, its theorems and systems disproved. The hand of greed has been ex-
hausted by its own overindulgence. One may place ones hopes in the global
economy, but sooner or later this folly will likewise be disproved: eventually one
recognizes that money cannot be a surrogate for religion, morality, art, philoso-
phy, and authority. Moreover, in compliance with the laws of nature (as an artist
I think about a transference of the law of the Urlinie), the medium of exchange
must always be that which was the rst to come into the world. What, then, will
be left to humanity but to resign itself to the frontiers which eye and hand can-
not nally penetrate? When there is nothing more to rob, nothing more to steal,
O, then you will surely long to learn from the Germans how to hearand then
you will have to turn to me, the German speck of dust. What your eyes have seen
as beauty, grace, worth, pride, and deance, the love, family, and state that you
yourselves have made, all of this you will hear in the realm of our musical art, with
a soaring ear, a thousand times more clearly than you could ever see it. Not being
originally inclined, and arriving late, you will need hundreds of years to absorb the
achievements of the great masters who appeared to us in proudly closed ranks, as
if by an especially propitious whim nature had made genius hereditary in this iso-
lated caseall the better that the golden age of humanity will have arrived.
Now you know! I have completed a noble, humane, and worthy work, in the
face of unspeakable need, hardship, and opposition, and without personal gain
and now, because I am not one of you, I am simply supposed to accept your scorn
as if I had it coming. Would that not be to shame my accomplishment, my worth,
before you? Why should I surrender the value of my work to your judgment? Be-
cause you insist that you waged a war of freedom, when in fact you waged a cow-
ardly war of thievery, a money war, an oil war? Because in hating us you believe
yourselves to be ethical? Because while cradling children in a bed of lies, or while
continuing to vilify us, and sealing all the les, you believe yourselves to be moral
and well-mannered? Because you speak of rights, while cowardly unleashing your
armies on us (whom you have disarmed), stealing the Rhine and our colonies,
and breaking into our safes? Because you discuss your freedom and your culture
(though you lack the culture of truth and depth, which is the beginning of all
freedom), while taking from us our freedom and self-determination, inicting
fascist torture on our children, and dragging our girls and women o to your
Negro brothels? Because you insist on the fulllment of contracts that you your-
selves have broken? {56} Because you fancy yourselves nations of gentlemen and
believe in your mission, when there are surely no missions that the German na-
tion, with the minds of a Leibniz or a Kant, the eyes of a Drer or a Goethe, and
the ear of a Bach or a Mozart could not fulll a thousand times more honestly
and surely than you?
But what do your delusions matter to me? Should I not say that the badger
stinks, although as is natures will he does not notice it himself? Should I not call
the tiger a ferocious beast, although in his natural innocence he does not perceive
himself to be ferocious? So what should stop me from likewise judging you, who
are also Gods creatures, according to your actions and thoughts, and not ac-
cording to your delusions? Therefore I say to you: as your lives and deeds are, so
shall you be. As they are base, so shall you be base and vulgar! And to all of your
scorn I say: just as all of your imperialisms, your money-bags, foundations, trusts,
businesses, armies, presidents, statesmen, and all of your fathers and children are
nothing before a short, tiny prelude by Sebastian Bach, so shall you be nothing
before him who rst heard and communicated this prelude, all of you, every one
of you shall be nothing before me, a German speck of dust! For the German souls
Miscellanea
223
that you are stealing now, I alone will make your people a hundred times more
subservient to me. You have dismissed the German language that once even you
cultivatedwhat can the language of an economically impoverished people pos-
sibly say to you today? But because of me you will have to take it up once again,
because it is impossible to translate into your languages the words of truth, least
of all the truth of musical art that you so completely oppose.
Among the Germans, those who themselves are arrogant may nd these
words presumptuous. To them I say that I compared those people with our great
ones, and only indirectly with myself. Thus, it is dierent than the case of those
who compare everything only to themselves, as if they themselves were the great
ones. To be sure, the likes of a Beethoven scratched out Bonapartes name from
the title page of the Eroica, thereby saying far more than the French are capable
of understanding. But I who am so poor must unfortunately resort to words.
Still other Germans, the politicians, will perhaps accuse me of making a foray
into politics. To them I say that it is not a question of politics for me, rather it is
only a question of culture, that obliges me, as a contributor, to defend it against
scorn and misunderstanding. In the politics that they have in mind, what has
been lost is an emphasis on self-worth, orif the term is allowed in this con-
textthe politics of values! Which is it, politics or values, that pressed Goethe in
1808 to write words like these:
Misfortune! What is misfortune? It is a misfortune when a prince has to
put up with the likes of foreigners in his own house. And if it were to go
as far as it once did for Johann, where both his downfall and his misfor-
tune were certain, we should not let it confound us, rather, with sta in
hand we would accompany our master in his sueringjust as Lucas
Cranach did with hisand loyally endure at his side. Women and chil-
dren, meeting us in the villages, will cry, raise their eyes, and say to one
another: there goes old Goethe and the erstwhile duke of Weimar, who
was dethroned by the French emperor because he was so loyal to his
friends in their misfortune; because he visited his uncle, the duke of
Braunschweig, on his deathbed; because he did not want to let his old
comrades-in-arms and campmates die of hunger! . . . I will sing for bread!
I will become a ballad-singer and set our misfortune to music! I will enter
every village and every school, wherever the name of Goethe is known. I
will sing of the shame of the German people, and the children will learn
by heart my song of shame, until they become men and use it to sing my
master on to his throne again, and you o of yours! Go ahead and sco at
the law, in the end you will be brought down by it! Bring it on, French-
man! To ght you its now or never! If you take this sentiment from the
Germans, orwhat is the sametread it underfoot, you will soon nd
yourself under the foot of this nation! You can see that I am trembling
from head to toe. I have not been this agitated in a long time.
Give me this report. Or, rather, take it yourself! Throw it on the re!
Burn it! And when you have burned it, collect the ashes and throw them
into water. Let the water simmer, bubble and boil! I myself will put wood
on the re, until everything has vanished, until every last letter, however
small, every comma and every period has gone up in smoke and steam, so
that not the tiniest bit of its dust remains on German soil! And we must
also one day do the same to these presumptuous foreigners, if things are
to get better in Germany.
(according to Johannes Falk, 1832)
39
{57}
And when Goethe says (Aphorisms in Rhyme):
Die Franzosen verstehen uns nicht. The French dont understand us.
Drum sagt man ihnen deutsch ins Gesicht, Therefore one says in German to their face,
Was ihnen wr verdrielich gewesen, What would be vexatious to them,
Wenn sie es htten franzsisch gelesen. If they had read it in French.
40
or:
Veruchtes Volk! kaum bist du frei, Accursed nation! No sooner are you free
So brichst du dich in dir selbst entzwei. Than you break yourself in two.
War nicht der Noth, des Glcks genug? Was there not enough trouble, not enough fortune?
Deutsch oder Teutsch, du wirst nicht klug. German or Teutonic, you will not be clever.
41
is it really about politics or the dignity of mankind?
No! As far as I am concerned, the politics of professional politicians is an ex-
ceedingly transitory aair. I know that for a long time to come people will be
cooking and eating one another like cannibals, only each time the feast will be
given a dierent name, more gruesome in peace than in war. I know that every-
thing pertaining to human political and social history boils down to this: that a
man holds his nose when another empties his bowels, but feels good when he
tonwi lle 5
224
39
Gesprch mit Falk J. D.: 9. Mai 1808.
40
Zahme Xenien.
41
Zahme Xenien.
does it himself; and that he shouts and makes accusations when he has been
robbed, but is happy about the spoils that he himself steals. In this I completely
agree with remarks I have come across recently by Galsworthy and Pastor
Frenssen (in his excellent Letters from America), that human beings today are still
no more than monkeys or tigers, and that nations are still as animalistic as they
were in the Bronze Age.
42
So I do not do politics. I am simply clearly consciousas few Germans are
of the cultural war, which is a non-political, holy war. Even the German globe-
trotters and Demos-tourists have caught on quite a bit: We live in an era of ab-
solutismpolitical, miltary, or socialan era in which democracy has become
profoundly weak, making room for the cult of the individual, of the mercenary
soldier, of the successful terrorist, and of the ruthless politician. Constrained by
commercial concerns, they still fail to draw from this the necessary conclusion:
that obviously Demos is conceptually bound to absolutism and terror every-
whereeast and west, north and southso that he bestows exactly the opposite
of what is expected by his sycophants. Yet, despite this disillusionment, they re-
main absorbed in their adulation of foreign economic and military power. For
them, foreign might is always superior to their own, as if our nation could live by
art and science alone, as if it were the duty of a nation to let itself be nailed to a
cross as did the Savior! And as true slaves to money, they bow down so low be-
fore the foreign money-slaves that they cannot even see their impudent noses, let
alone nd defensive words that would even come close to matching the force of
this humiliation.
Now and then even our followers of the demos concede that none other than
the great Saxon emperors created the German nation, yet they nonetheless con-
cern themselvesin the midst of the cultural and economic warwith irrelevant
and contradictory things. They speak of class, as if this non-entity could replace
the nation. They deal with pan-Europe, as if it hadnt already existed for a long
time, and as if the treason that was perpetrated upon us with similar Utopias dur-
ing the war were still not enough (why dont these stubborn fanatics put foreign
nations to the test?). They reform the teaching of history: the emperor should be
replaced by the inventors of the loom, the sewing machine, and the steam gener-
ator, as if these peopleworthy, to be surewere capable of giving the nation a
soul. They are absorbed in their intrinsically German selfness (Goethe), but
never outgrow the Northclis and Rothermeres.
43
And saddest of all: accustomed
to gaping at foreigners, and still not in complete possession of their inherited cul-
tural goods, they destroy these at a speed never before witnessed in the history of
destruction, thus working hand-in-hand, suocated by progress and practically
surrounded by euthanasia, with the enemies who are after the same end.
But should I be troubled by the misery of all of these crooked spines, these
twisted souls (if it be tting to use that word)? Should I be disturbed by the pres-
ent rejection, my rejection by all of those who still do not understand me, who
speak of theory, analysis, syllable-counts, or who are stuck in unhappy occupa-
tion, directing, playing, criticizing?
Firm in the calm conviction of my own worth, I have done my duty with re-
spect to myself and my work. I will not have done it in vain, if my words straighten
the spine of but one of those lost souls, and if he who has thus been redeemed is
thereby readied for the defense of German culture!
Miscellanea
225
42
John Galsworthy (18671933) and Gustav Frenssen (18631945). Schenker is probably referring
to Galsworthys short essay Demos, originally published in The Nation (London) in 1907, and
reprinted in A Commentary (London: Grant Richards, 1908). In it, Galsworthys narrator, a country
pastor, describes a wife-beating peasant who confronts him: And I saw that this was not a man who
spoke, but the very self of the brute beast that lurks beneath the surface of our State . . . Frenssens
Briefe aus Amerika (Berlin: G. Grotsche, 1923) is a collection of letters sent home to Germany during
the authors tour in 1922.]
43
Harold Sidney Harmsworth, Baron Rothermere of Hemsted (18681940) and his brother, Alfred
Harmsworth, Viscount Lord Northcli (18651922), were the most powerful newspaper proprieters in
London. They are considered the founders of modern popular journalism.
This page intentionally left blank
Preliminary note: Apart from Urlinie and Ursatz, which have been left untranslated,
technical terms are given in English with the original German (if different) in parenthe-
ses. Where these terms are defined or discussed as theoretical concepts, the page-number
references are italicized. Terms that appear very frequently in the text are marked by an
asterisk (*): page-number references are givenin italicsonly if, and when, they are dis-
cussed as theoretical concepts. (One such term, *arpeggiation [Brechung], has no page ref-
erences given because it is not discussed as a theoretical concept, though it appears fre-
quently.)
227
Index
Aaron, 18, 132
Abel, 8
adagio (sonata movement), character of, 77,
87, 106
addition (extrapolation) of a root (Aus-
werfen eines Grundtones), 76 n.8, 112
Adlung, Jacob, 129 n.44
Algeciras, Conference of, 5 n.26
Allegri, Gregorio, 172
allemande, characteristics of, 146
Alsace (Alsatia) and Lorraine, provinces of,
5 n.20, 13, 123, 129, 135
Altmann, Wilhelm, 26 n.4
Archimedes, 11
Armagnac, 5 n.13
Arnstadt, 164
Artaria, Domenico, music publisher, 8385,
114 n.38, 167
ascending formula, ascent (Anstiegsformel),
101
Auernhammer, Josepha Barbara, 170 n.48
Aulard, French historian, 129 n.44
Auskomponierung. See elaboration
Austria, Austro-Hungarian Empire, 6, 10, 48
n.16, 129. See also German Austria,
Republic of
Babel, Tower of, 160, 21617
Bach, Anna Magdalena, xi, 166
Bach, Carl Philipp Emanuel, 38, 64, 112,
11617, 176
Allegro in G, Helm catalogue 193, 146 n.3,
14849
Sonata in C, Helm catalogue 244, 15052,
154
Versuch ber die wahre Art, das Klavier zu
spielen, xi, 102, 148 n.1, 16667
Bach, Johann Bernard, 165
Bach, Johann Christian, 46, 6970
Bach, Johann Ludwig, 165
Bach, Johann Sebastian, 6, 11617, 129 n.44,
146, 160, 16366, 194, 21011
Aria in C minor, BWV 991
Art of Fugue, 39
Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue, 210
fingering, 165
Inventions, Two- and Three-Part, 163
Italian Concerto, 78
St. Matthew Passion, 166
Toccata in D, BWV 912, 177
Twelve Little Preludes, xi, 143 n.7, 224
No. 1 in C, BWV 924, 141 44, 181; alter-
native version, BWV 924a, 14344
No. 2 in C, BWV 939, 145
No. 3 in C minor, BWV 999, 17576,
180, 181 n.3
No. 4 in D, BWV 925, 142 n.4, 145 n.1,
17779
No. 5 in D minor, BWV 926, 176 no.7,
178 n.3, 18081, 21213
Well-Tempered Clavier, ix
Book I, Prelude in C minor, 100, 162
n.9, 176, 177 n.2
Book I, Prelude in E
,
minor, 3438
Book I, Prelude in F

, 11820
Book II, Fugue in C, 165, 210
Book II, Prelude in F, 192
Bach, Wilhelm Friedemann, 14344, 177 n.1
Bagge, Karl Ernst Freiherr von, 124 n.21
Barbusse, Henri, 14
Beaumarchais, Pierre-Augustin, 218
Bechstein, piano manufacturer, 67
Beecke, Ignaz von, 169
Beethoven, Ludwig van, ixx, 13, 20, 6667,
11214, 116, 13031, 137, 161, 21011,
215
Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage, Op. 112,
221
metronome markings, 182, 220
Mass in D (Missa solemnis), Op. 123, 193
Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor, 185 n.7
Piano Concerto No. 4 in G, 25
Piano Quartet in C, WoO 36, No. 3, 83
Piano sonatas, 39
Op. 2, No. 1, in F minor, 99; analysis of,
7282; fingering in, 87-88, 92; litera-
ture on, 8895; performance of,
8588; sketch for, 83; textual prob-
lems in, ix, 8385
Op. 10, No. 3, in D, 192
Op. 26 in A
,
, 61 n.8
Op. 27, No. 2, in C

minor (Moon-
light), 101 n.8, 196
Op. 31, No. 2, in D minor, 32 n.13, 221
n.33
Op. 31, No. 3, in E
,
, 189, 192
Op. 49, No. 2, in G, 15859, 176 no.7
Op. 53 in C (Waldstein), 76, 221 n.33
Op. 57 in F minor (Appassionata), 83
n.22
Op. 81a in E
,
(Das Lebewohl), 44, 85
n.26
Op. 101 in A, 85 n.26, 92, 150
Op. 106 in B
,
(Hammerklavier), 114
n.38, 192, 220 n.25, 221
Beethoven, Ludwig van,
Piano sonatas (continued),
Op. 109 in E, 150, 206, 221 n.33
Op. 110 in A
,
, 221 n.33
Op. 111 in C minor, 189
Septet in E
,
, Op. 20, 220
String Quartet in F, Op. 59, No. 1, 87
String Quartet in E
,
, Op. 74, 87
Symphony No. 3 in E
,
(Sinfonia eroica), 25
n.1, 201, 221, 224
Symphony No. 4 in B
,
, 25 n.1
Symphony No. 5 in C minor, 9495, 110,
136
analysis of, 2533, 2027
autograph corrections to and sketches
for, 2526, 18284, 202, 207
Fate knocks at the door, as thematic
interpretation, 27, 29, 184, 187, 189,
191, 194, 197, 201
literature on, 185201
performance of, 29, 18485, 189, 2001,
209, 22021
textual matters concerning, 182184,
2079
Symphony No. 9 in D minor, 193, 220
Bekker, Paul, vii viii, xi xii, 186 n.8, 201
Berlioz, Hector, 113, 137, 168, 189, 190 n.21
Bible, quotations from and references to,
xii, 7, 8, 9, 15 n.79, 1819, 113, 128
n.40, 132, 134, 16061, 189,
21617
Bilinsky, Leon, 10
Birnbaum, Johann Abraham, 129 n.44
Bismarck, Otto von, 6, 11, 14, 122, 131,
133 n.63
Blthner, piano manufacturer, 67
Boer War, 5
Bombet, A. C. See Stendhal
Brahms, Johannes, 6, 114 n.38, 168
A German Requiem, 165
Brandenburg, Sieghard, 184 n.5
Breitkopf & Hrtel, publishers, v, 44 n.3, 167
British and Foreign Bible Society, 211 n.7
Brown, Clive, 184 n.5
Bruckner, Anton, 77, 89
Symphony No. 7 in E, 213
Symphony No. 9 in D minor, 213
Buddecke, Colonel, 132 n.59
Buddhists, 164
Blow, Hans von, 11920, 193, 198
Bmler, Georg Heinrich, 163
Burnham, Scott, 89 nn.30 and 32,
Busoni, Ferruccio, 210
Caccini, Giulio, 54
caesura (Einschnitt), 99, 111, 115
Cain, 8
Caldara, Antonio, 165
Cannabich, Johann Christian, 169 n.42
Cannabich, Rosina Teresia, 169
Carpani, Giuseppe, 14 n.75, 16768
Cherubini, Luigi, 113 n.38
Chopin, Frdric, 6, 20, 56. 176
Polonaise in B
,
, Op. 71, No. 2, 120
Christians, Christianity, 7, 10
Chrysander, Friedrich, 146 n.1
Clart, movement, 1415, 168 n.32
Clmenceau, Georges, 7 n.38, 17
Clement IV, Pope, 124 n.20
Clementi, Muzio, 192 n.26
Gradus ad Parnassum, 193
climate, effect on artistic genius, 114
Colloredo, Hieronymus, prince-archbishop
of Salzburg, 6869
Congo Free State, 5 n.16
Cotta, J. G., publishers, v
Couperin, Franois, 70
Cranach, Lucas
Creel, Edgar, 15 n.83
Czerny, Carl, ix, 27, 3738, 85, 88, 194
Dante, 135
Danzig, 129
Darwin, Charles, 65
Debussy, Claude, 45, 172
degree, scale degree (Stufe), 2223, 52, 76, 118
Delbrck, Hans, German historian, 129 n.44
democracy, democrats, 6, 810, 12, 14, 53, 65,
68, 7071, 125, 128, 131 33, 136, 225
Denmark, 129
Deutsch, Otto Erich, 129 n.33
diatonicism (Diatonie), 57
Diderot, Denis, 215
Dieupart, Charles, 165
*diminution, 52, 54
divider, dominant (Teiler, [Ober-]
Quintteiler), 77, 176 n.7, 203, 206
Don Juan, 69
Dorten, Hans Abraham, 17 n.94
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor, 137
Dubiel, Joseph, xiii
Dulles, John Foster, 48 n.18
Duport, JeanPierre, 126
Duschek, Josepha, 6970
Dussek, Jan Ladislav, 66
Ebert, Friedrich, 128 n.38
Eckermann, Johann Peter, 114
Edward VII, king of England, 9
Egypt, 114
Ehrlich, Paul, 134 n.68
Eichendorff, Joseph Freiherr von, 13
Eichner, Ernst, 11617
*elaboration (Auskomponierung), 5253, 76,
141, 145
encirclement, 9, 136
Encyclopedists, 9, 65, 12526
England (Great Britain), the English, 7, 9,
1314, 16, 19, 45, 124, 132
English language 123, 13536
Enlightenment, 9, 113, 136, 162, 172
Ephialtes, 7
Epictetes, 211
epigones, 211, 216219
Esterhazy, Prince Nikolaus, 113
Eulenberg, Herbert, 171 72
exchange, 56 (56-, Quint- und Sext-
Auswechslung), 56, 82, 1036, 118 n.1,
142, 152
exchange of voices (Stimmentausch), 101 2,
156
Fachsmund, Ferdinand. See Gregorovius,
Ferdinand
Falk, Johannes, 224
Federhofer, Hellmut, vii
Fernhren. See long-distance hearing
Fiji Islanders, 211
Filtz, Anton, 117
Finck, Hermann, 135
Fischmann, Leo, attorney, vi
Foch, Ferdinand, 12 n.65, 132
Forkel, Johann Nikolaus, 36
Forte, Allen, x
France, the French, x, 7, 1011, 1316, 20, 23
n.8, 4446, 6566, 6971, 12227,
129, 13437, 169, 171, 212, 224
Franck, Johann Mathias, 112
Franco-Prussian War, 5 n.20, 132
Frankfurter Zeitung, newspaper, vii
Franz Ferdinand, archduke of Austria, 10
n.50
Franz Joseph, emperor of Austria, 10 n.50
Frederick II, king of Prussia, 124 n.14
Frederick Wilhelm II, king of Prussia, 126
French language, 46, 112, 123, 126
French Revolution, 5 n.14, 122 n.8, 125
Frenssen, Pastor Gustav, 225
Frescobaldi, Girolamo Alessandro, 165
Frimmel, Theodor von, 131
Fux, Johann Joseph, 47 n.15, 163
i ndex
228
Galitzin, Prince Nikolai, 210, 217
Galsworthy, John, 225
genius, artistic, 34, 1011, 2224, 6566,
114, 16063, 166, 189, 214, 21718
German Austria (Deutsch-sterreich), Re-
public of, 12, 44, 47. See also Austria,
Austro-Hungarian Empire
Germany, the Germans, 34, 6, 920, 24,
4548, 64, 66, 6870, 11214, 121 29,
131 32, 13437, 163, 168, 171, 22225
Gluck, Christoph Willibald Ritter von, 24,
65, 130
Gobineau, Joseph-Arthur, comte de, 13
Goethe, Cornelie von, 68
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 6, 11, 1314,
53, 68, 106, 11314, 121, 12325, 130,
13233, 161, 179, 211, 21619, 22225
and music, 21316
Graun, Carl Heinrich, 163
Graun, Johann Gottlieb, 163
Graupner, Christoph, 95, 164
Gregorovius, Ferdinand Adolf (Ferdinand
Fachsmund), 130
Griesinger, Georg August, 114 n.38, 170 n.48
Grigny, Nicolas de, 165
Grillparzer, Franz, 163, 17071
Grimm, Friedrich Melchior Baron von, 65,
12930
Groener, Wilhelm, 128 n.38
Grove, George, xii, 29, 193, 19597
Guines, duc de, 46
Habsburg, monarchy, 44 n.4
Halm, August, 164 n.18
Handel, George Frideric, 117, 163, 164 n.17,
21011
Suite in G, HWV 441, Allemande, 14647,
149
harmonic rhythm (Stufenrhythmus), 61
Harmsworth, Alfred. See Northcliffe, Lord
Harmsworth, Harold Sidney. See
Rothermere of Hemsted, Baron
Hasse, Johann Adolf, 163
Haydn, Joseph, 64, 95, 16769, 170 n.48
artistic assessment of, 11214
The Creation, 114 n.38, 161
The Seasons, 114 n.38
Sonata in C, Hoboken XVI:35, viii,
15355, 158
Sonata in E
,
, Hoboken XVI:52, viii,
154 n.4, 176, 177 n.2
analysis of, 99112
editions of, 99 n.1
literature on, 11517
Symphony No. 101 in D, 103 n.12
Haydn, Michael, 6970
Hebbel, Friederich, 122
Hehemann, Max, 195, 196 n.31
Heinse, Wilhelm, 171 72
Helvetia, Republic of, 127 n.35
Heraclitus, 219
Herder, Johann Gottfried, 47, 12223, 136
n.80
hermeneutics, 21, 29, 92, 130, 194
Hertzka, Emil, vx
Hindenburg, Paul von, vii, 4, 9, 11, 128 n.38
history, historians of music, 52, 65
Hoffmann, E. T. A., 26 n.3, 18687
Hohenzollern, royal family, 128
Hlderlin, Friedrich, 6, 121, 137, 201,
21920
Houben, Heinrich Hubert, 130
Humboldt, Alexander von, 130
Hummel, Johann Nepomuk, 67
Hus, Jan, 12
India, 114
International movement, 4
Italian language, 123
Italo-Turkish War, 5 n.27
Italy, Italians, 1213, 1516, 19, 66, 124, 126
melodic style of, 54, 68
Jahn, Otto, 46, 65, 69, 126, 221 n.34
Jaurs, Jean, 9
Jean Paul, 6, 17, 45, 70, 12627, 135
Jesus Christ, 161
Jews, Jewishness, vii, 131
Joachim, Joseph, 164 n.17
Joan of Arc, 12
Jonas, Oswald, 148 n.1
Judas, 7
Kafka, Johann Nepomuk, 221 n.32
Kalischer, Alfred 183, 186 n.10, 187, 210 n,3
Kalmus, Alfred, viii
Kamchatka, 127
Kant, Immanuel, 132, 135, 160
Keiser, Reinhard, 165
Keller, Gottfried, 127, 172
Kellner, Johann Peter, 143 n.7
keyboard instruments, comparisons among,
6768, 165, 167
Kiel, German port, 4
Kjellen, Rudolf, 121
Klindworth, Karl, 120
Kretzschmar, Hermann, viii, 193195
Kroll, Franz, 36 n.4
Kbeck von Kbau, Carl Friedrich Freiherr,
1301
Krnberger, Ferdinand, 12829
Langenmantel, Jakob Alois Karl, 12425
Langenmantel, Jakob Wilhelm Benedikt, 124
LoTzse, 18
League of Nations, 5, 7 n.34, 15, 17, 122
Le Gay, Andr-Pierre. See Prmontval
Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm, 135
Lenz, Wilhelm von, xii, 130, 188, 191
Leipzig, 164
Leopold II, king of Belgium, 5 no. 16
Lespinasse, Julie-Jeanne lonore de, 171
Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim, 212
Lincoln, Abraham, 15
*linear (stepwise) progression [Zug], 22
Linnaeus, Carl, 13 n.69
Lischke, music publisher, 8385
Liszt, Franz, 67, 113
Litfass, Ernst, 5 n.22
Lloyd George, David, 7 n.38, 17, 135
Lobkowitz, Prince Franz Joseph von, 25
Logau, Friedrich, 122
London, 47
long-distance hearing, 22, 29, 77, 82, 164 n.19
Lotti, Antonio, 165
Louis XIV, king of France (Sun King), 5, 8
n.43, 13, 12829, 135
Ludendorff, Erich, 4, 9, 11
Luther, Martin, 6
Ltzow, Countess, 170
Magyars, 6
Mahler, Gustav, v
Malmedy-Eupen, 129
Mlzel, Johann Nepomuk, 220
Mannheim rocket, 95
Mann, Thomas, 5 n.17, 16869
Marchand, Jean Louis, 129 n.44
Marie-Louise, Princess, 14 n.78
Marne, Battle of, 12
Marpurg, Friedrich Wilhelm, 129 n.44, 210
Marseillaise, La, 5
Martini, Govanni Battista, 68
Marx, Adolf Bernhard, ix, xii
Anleitung zum Vortrag Beethovenscher
Klavierwerke, 92, 188189
Die Lehre von der musikalischen Komposi-
tion, 6668, 8992, 11516
Musical Form in the Age of Beethoven, 89
nn.30 and 32, 91 n.41
i ndex
229
Marx, Karl, and Marxism, 4, 1719, 24, 94,
113, 128
Masaryk, Toms Garrygue, 10
Mlac, 128
Memel, 129
Mnage, Gilles, 124
Mendelssohn, Felix, 13, 18990 n.21
Messchaert, Johannes, 164 n.17
Michelangelo, 137, 188
mixture, modal (Mischung), 41, 103, 106, 111,
141, 143
Mizler, Johann Christoph, 16364
Moltke, Helmuth Karl Bernhard, Graf von,
14,
monarchy, monarchists, 6 n.30, 18
Monroe Doctrine, 15, 18
Monroe, James, 7
Mrike, Eduard, 13
Morocco, 5
Morzin, Count
Moses, 18, 22 n.6, 132
Mozart, Leopold, 124 n.19, 125, 12930,
171 72
Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, 24, 11314, 116,
137, 162, 171 72, 176, 188
artistic assessments of, xii, 11 n.55, 6471
Concerto for Flute and Harp, K. 299, 46
Idomeneo, 65 n.12
letters to his father, x, 4546, 66, 70,
12425, 16970
on performance, 16970
Piano Concerto in C, K. 246, 170 n.44
Piano Sonatas
K. 309 in C, 169
K. 310 in A minor, 5564, 82, 99, 177 n.2
K. 311 in D, 76, 87
K. 545 in C, 155 n.5, 15658
Serenade in D (Haffner), K. 250, 69 n.17
Symphony in G minor, K. 550, 69 n.17,
9495
Mller, August Eberhard, 67
Mller-Reuter, Theodor, 197
Musikbltter des Anbruch, journal, vii
Myslivecek, Josef, 124 n.18, 169
Nagel, Willibald, 94
Naples, 68
Napoleon (Bonaparte), 9, 14, 44 n.1, 128, 133,
212 n.9, 224
Napoleon III, 128
navalism, 5, 12
Neberich, Adam, 186
Neefe, Christian Gottlob, 11617
Neue freie Presse, Viennese newspaper, xii
Newman, Ernst, 135 n.74
New York, 47
nodal point (Knotenpunkt), 27, 29, 78
Northcliffe, Lord (Alfred Harmsworth), 122,
225 n.43
Nottebohm, Gustav, viii, 26, 83, 95, 182, 193,
195, 204, 207, 22021
Novalis, 133
obligatory register (obligate Fhrung der
Tonlage), 35, 153, 179
Oppersdorff, Count Franz von, 25 n.1
Orlando, Vittorio Emanuele, 7 n.38
Oster Collection (New York Public Library),
xi xii, 114 n.38
annotations to Schenkers personal copies
of Der Tonwille, 43 n.2, 99 n.4, 103
nn.13 and 15, 104 nn.1819, 110
nn.2930, 111 n.31, 118 n.1, 146 n.2,
156 n.3
sketches for works analyzed in Der
Tonwille, 106, 156 n.3
outer voices, contrapuntal setting of the
(Aussensatz), 53, 7980, 108
Ovid, 188 n.16
Palestrina, Giovanni Pierluigi da, 165
Palikao, comte de, 128
Paris, city of, 4547, 70, 130
Pantheon, 125
particularism, 13
Psler, Karl, 99 n.1, 167
passing, passing tone (Durchgang), 51, 155
Persia, 5
Peters, C. F., publishers, v
philistines, 6
Piccinni, Niccol, 65, 130
Pierron, Mlle., 170
Pisendel, Johann Georg, 163
Plato, Platonic idea, 22, 161
Poincar, Raymond, 11, 169
Porpora, Nicola Antonio, 112
Prmontval, 123
Princip, Gavrilo, 10 n.50
prolongation, 213
Prometheus, 19
Quantz, Johann Joachim, 163
Rameau, Jean-Philippe, 70
Ravel, Maurice, 45
Razumovsky, Count Andreas, 25
reaching over (bergreifen), 206
register transfer, ascending and descending
(Hherlegung, Tieferlegung), 3536,
7677, 81, 99, 110, 147, 149, 152, 154,
158, 18081, 192, 205-7
Reinecke, Carl, ix, 84, 9495
Rembrandt van Rijn, 137
Reutter, Georg von, 112
Rhine river, Rhineland, 12, 129, 132 n.59,
16879
Richter, Franz Xaver, 117
Riemann, Hugo, ix. xii, 11 n.55, 9495
Beethovens smtliche Klavier-Solosonaten,
9294
edition of Thayers Ludwig van Beethovens
Leben, 191 93
Groe Kompositionslehre, 9394
Handbuch der Musikgeschichte, 6869, 116
harmonic analysis, system of, 39 n.6
Katechismus der Fugen-Komposition,
3940, 119, 210
Katechismus der Kompositionslehre, 94,
19091
Ries, Ferdinand, 85, 192 n.26
Rolland, Romain, 14, 16869
Rothermere of Hemsted, Baron (Harold
Sidney Harmsworth), 225 n.43
Rothgeb, John, x
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 9
Rudolph, archduke of Austria, 44, 210
Russo-Japanese War, 5
Saarland, 13, 15, 129
Sadowa, Battle of, 14
Saint-Foix, George de, xii, 6971
salvarsan, 134
Scarlatti, Domenico, 70
Sonata in D minor (Kirkpatrick catalogue
no. 450), 119-120
Scheibe, Johann Adolph, 163
Schenker, Heinrich
editions of music
Bach, C. P. E., keyboard works, v,
150 n.1
Beethoven, Moonlight Sonata
facsimile edition, vii, 101 n.8
Beethoven, piano sonatas, 20, 83,
85 n.28
Handel, organ concertos, v
editorial principles, viii ix, 83
Erluterungsausgaben (editions with
critical commentary), viii
Bach, J. S., Chromatic Fantasy and
Fugue, vvi, 36, 148 n.1, 165
i ndex
230
Beethoven, Die letzten fnf Sonaten,
vvi, 83, 130, 148 n.1, 150 n.2; Op. 101,
xi, 22, 72, 168 n.33; Op. 106 (pro-
jected), 48, 83 n.21; Op. 109, 47 n.13,
206 n.43; Op. 110, 30, 35
polemics in the writings of, ixxi
translation of writings of, v, xi
writings, published
Beethovens neunte Sinfonie, vvi, 30, 35,
74, 207 n.44
Ein Beitrag zur Ornamentik, v, 74, 84,
87, 148 n.1, 165
Der freie Satz, v, 35 n.3, 48 n.19. 67, 76
n.8, 78 n.13, 80 n.14, 103 n.14, 104 n.16,
141 n.1, 142 n.4, 156 nn.24. 175 n.2,
176 n.5, 177, 203 n.38, 204 n.40, 206
n.43
Harmonielehre, 21 n.3, 34, 60, 64, 74, 76
n.9, 82 n.17, 90, 99, 101, 1046, 110,
160 n.3, 175, 176 n.5
Kontrapunkt I, v, 27, 32, 36, 71 n.1, 87,
103, 108, 110, 164 n.17
Kontrapunkt II, 19 n.99, 76 n.10, 78, 118,
141, 15556, 175 n.4, 176 n.7, 204,
206
Das Meisterwerk in der Musik, v-vi, viii,
114 nn.3738, 166 n.26, 176, 210, 221
nn.3031
Der Tonwille: childrens issue of, viii, xi;
contents of, viii xi; Elucidations,
176 n.7; materials deleted from, xi;
publication history of, vviii; title of,
vi vii, xii xiii, 82
writings, unpublished
Freier Satz (early drafts of Der freie
Satz), xx, 21, 27, 36, 51 52, 56, 6061,
76, 78, 80, 82, 100, 1034, 105 n.20,
111 12, 11819, 141 42, 156, 176 n.7,
177, 206
Haydn, unfinished article on, 114 n.38
Musik-Kritik, vii viii
Niedergang der Kompositionskunst, 160
n.3, 18990 n.21
Schiller, Friedrich, 121, 201, 212
Schindler, Anton, 27, 85, 182, 187, 191, 193, 220
Schleswig-Holstein, 129
Schobert, Johann, 67, 6970, 11617
Schopenhauer, Arthur, 13, 162
Schpflin, Johann Daniel
Schubert, Franz, 215
Gretchen am Spinnrade, 42 n.1
Ihr Bild (from Schwanengesang), 41 43
text setting, 41 43
Schumann, Robert, 67, 211
Schurig, Artur, x, 65, 69, 125, 171 72
Schweitzer, Albert, 16566
Second Viennese School, v
Sedan, Battle of, 14
Senegal, 5 n.15, 7 n.40, 18 n.95
sexuality, 223
Shakespeare, William, 66, 137, 218
Silesia, 128
Sinai, Mount, 64
Sinzheimer, Hermann, 9 n.45
Skagerrak, Battle of (Battle of Jutland), 12
Slavic nations, 6, 10, 1213, 19
Smetana, Bedrich, 67
String Quartet in E minor (From
My Life), 6
South, nations of the, 7, 11314
Spa, Conference of, 71
Spain, 124
Spanish-American War, 5
Spanish language, 123
Spinoza, Baruch de, 18
Spitta, Philipp, 3839, 129 n.44, 16566
Stamitz, Johann, 11617
Stein, Charlotte von, 17
Stein, Johann Andreas, 179
Steiner, Sigmund Anton, 182 n.1, 220
Steinway, piano manufacturer, 67
Stendhal, 14 n.75, 65, 16769, 171
Sterkel, Johann Franz Xaver, 169
St. Germain-en-Laye, Treaty of, 7. 9 n.47,
47, 122 n.6, 136
Stlzel, Gottfried Heinrich, 163
Strasbourg, 14, 123 nn.1213
Strauss, Richard, v
Sudetenland, 13
*synthesis (Synthese), 53, 70, 83, 114, 150,
213, 222
Tacitus, 131
Tchaikovsky, Peter Ilyich, 113
Telemann, Georg Philipp, 163, 16566
Thalberg, Sigismond, 67
Thayer, Alexander Wheelock, 191 n.25
Thebes, 188, 211 n.5
Tissot, Jacques, 13 n.69
Toeschi, Carl Joseph, 117
tonicization (Tonikalisierung), 64
Tripoli, 5
Tyrol, 13, 15, 129
United States of America, Americans, 7,
8 n.43, 1516, 48
Universal Edition, publishers, vviii,
xxi, 3
*Urlinie, 21 24, 5254, 166, 212213
Ursatz, 21213
Vellejus Paterculus, 216
Versailles, Treaty of, x, 78, 9 n.46, 15 n.82,
48, 71, 122 n.6, 128 n.39, 131, 134 n.66,
136, 137 n.86, 162
Vestner, A., 163 n.14
Vienna, 44, 4748, 71, 16869, 186
Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, 83, 210
Staat- und Landesbibliothek, xi
St. Stephens Cathedral, 112 n.35
Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, 13637
Vogler, Georg Joseph (Abb), 65 n.11, 66,
16970
Vogler, Johann Caspar, 165 n.20
voice exchange. See exchange of voices
Voltaire, 9, 12526, 215
Vrieslander, Otto, ix, 148 n.1, 149
Wagner, Richard, 2324, 27, 29, 56, 18990,
198
Waldersee, Paul Graf von, 166
Walsh, John, 146 n.1
Washington, George, 15
Weber, Aloysia, 6970
Weber, Carl Maria von, 67
Weingartner, Felix, ix, 136 n.79, 198201, 221
Werker, Wilhelm, 210
West, nations of the, 4, 712, 48, 11314, 122,
199
Wilhelm I, emperor of Germany, 6 n.30
Wilhelm II, emperor of Germany, 4, 5 n.26,
9, 18 n.97, 128 n.38
Wilson, Woodrow, 7, 11 12, 15, 17, 122
Winckelmann, Johann Joachim, 171 72, 216
World War I, vi, x, 317, 45 n.8, 48, 69 n.15,
128, 13436, 22223
war-guilt, 9, 132 n.59, 135
Wyzewa, Thodore de, xii, 6971
i ndex
231