[1st subject of "Eroica."
Part of Coda.
1st Violins.
2d Violins.
Basses. etc.] As Sir George Grove has said, "this coda is no mere termination to a movement which might have ended as well without it. No, it is an essential part of the poem, and will be known as such. It is one of Beethoven's great inventions, and he knows it, and starts it in such a style that no one can possibly overlook what he is doing." In the same symphony Beethoven entitles his slow movement "March," and his third movement "Scherzo." Both of these titles were new to the symphony. The finale is made more important and more expressive than it has ever been in any previous work. In his sixth symphony Beethoven gave each of the movements descriptive titles, such as "Scene by the brook." This was a distinct innovation in symphonic writing, and the artistic beauty and eloquence of the work prove that the symphony as a form was capable of the most free expressiveness. In the fifth symphony the composer demonstrated in the convincing manner the complete organization of the form by using a single motive, that which introduces the work, as the germ and the connecting instrument of the whole. The fifth symphony is the most convincing of all Beethoven's works. Its portrayal of man's struggle against fate and his final triumph is superb; yet in form the symphony is absolutely perfect. In his seventh symphony he developed the slow introduction to the first movement, which has previously occupied a dozen measures, to sixty-two. In his ninth symphony he made his only confession of the inadequacy of his instrumental means. He introduced voices. The ninth symphony is a work of transcendent genius, and its effect justifies its method; but the use of voices in instrumental works since has almost inevitably failed. Only Beethoven could bridge the chasm between musical mood-pictures without words and music leaning on the shoulder of text.

Beethoven's symphonies are the connecting link between the classic and romantic schools. They are classic because they adhere to the classic form; they are romantic because they are the instruments of direct, intentional, and highly designed expression. Beethoven was satisfied to accomplish the full achievement of expression within the limits of the classic form. His successors, despairing of succeeding on the same lines, and urged by a desire for personal and representative expression as strong as his, broke away from the classic form of the sonata, but to this day have never been able to escape the sovereignty of its fundamental principles. The kinds of musical devices which Beethoven employed in making his designs expressive, in the widest and deepest sense of that word, may not be discussed here. To attempt to discuss them would lead the reader into the field of pure musical technics. The great fact for him to keep in mind is this: Beethoven seized upon the musical material left him by his predecessors, and instead of employing it to produce simple beauty, used it to express his inner life, treating that life as typical and hence as capable of representation in the broad tints of orchestral music. His successors in the composition of symphonic music have followed his lead, some adhering to the classical form and others departing from it, according to the bent of their genius. All of them, however, have sought to employ the power of music to express emotion, some following plans with broad outlines and others endeavoring to enter into detail. Because these composers have proclaimed the expressive power of music, they are classed as romanticists. It should be noted, however, that many historians include in the classic school all those who adhere strictly to the classic form.

A product of the romantic school is called "programme music." This means music which is intended to illustrate a definite story, and its best examples are those which endeavor to illustrate wholly by voicing in music the sequence of emotions contained in the tale, with the aid of such descriptive music as will convey some idea of the scenic surroundings. The reader will readily understand that some acquaintance with the composer's purpose is necessary to an appreciation of such music. A key to the plan is offered usually by the title. A composition labelled "Macbeth" would, of course, be understood as intended to illustrate Shakespeare's tragedy, and the hearer would naturally call to his aid in listening to it his knowledge of the drama. Two familiar forms of programme music have grown out of the attempts of the romanticists. One of these is the symphonic poem, and the other the programme overture. The symphonic poem is a composition symphonic in style and general treatment, but shorter than a symphony and without pauses between its movements and designed to illustrate a story. An attentive listener will find that a symphonic poem contains definite principal themes, development or working out, climaxes, and conclusion, for no matter what the sequence of emotions in the story may be, the fundamental laws of musical form must be observed. The programme overture is an overture built on lines much the same as those of a symphonic poem, but designed as a musical prelude to a play, or a poem of dramatic contents, as, for example Tschaikowsky's "Hamlet" overture, or Goldmark's "Sakuntala" overture. The latter belongs to a poem.

In addition to these forms the romanticists have made certain alterations in the old sonata form. One of Schumann's symphonies, that in D minor, is in the usual four movements, but without any pauses between them, and the principal subjects of the work are heard in various forms in the various movements. This plan was followed by Liszt in his piano concertos, which are played without pauses and have their several movements largely developed from the themes announced at the beginning of the works.

The principal symphonic writers since Beethoven have been Ludwig Spohr (1784-1859), Franz Schubert (1797-1828), Felix Mendelssohn-Bartoldy (1809-1847), Robert Schumann (1810-1856), Hector Berlioz (1803-1869), Franz Liszt (1811-1886), Johannes Brahms (1833-1897), Peter Ilitisch Tschaikowsky (1840-1893) and Antonin Dvorak (1841,—still living). Spohr's symphonies are generally classic in form, but romantic in subject and treatment, as is indicated by their titles, "Lenore" (on Burger's poem), "Power of Sound," "Consecration of Tones." Schubert's symphonies are also classic in form, and only mildly romantic in content. Schubert was one of the leaders of the romantic school, but his romanticism found its most complete embodiment in his songs. Mendelssohn's symphonies are absolutely classic in form and in the finish of their style and instrumentation, but they are romantic in tendency. His overtures—such as "Hebrides" and "Melusine"—are unquestionably of the romantic spirit. Schumann was an ultra-romanticist and his piano music teems with compositions with suggestive titles, such as "Papillons" and "Carnival." His symphonies are romantic in the fulness of their plan to embody emotion. Hector Berlioz, the famous French symphonist, was one of the extreme romanticists. His symphonies are really symphonic poems in several detached movements and are all original in form. Sometimes he uses voices to help him out, but usually he is content with the orchestra, which he handled with a marvellous insight into its capacity. His symphonies all bear suggestive titles,—as "Romeo and Juliet" or "Harold in Italy," and are designed to illustrate stories. Franz Liszt was the inventor of the symphonic poem, and is included in this catalogue chiefly for that reason. His works are very rich in color, and occasionally rise to a level of real power.

Tschaikowsky was a Russian composer and produced six symphonies, all of which depart from the strict classic form, make free use of Russian style in their melodies, and are intensely romantic in spirit. His fifth symphony introduces a slow waltz instead of a scherzo. His sixth, the "Symphony Pathetique," is one of the noblest of modern symphonies. Its second movement is a waltz in five-fourth measure (five beats to the bar), its third a scherzo which turns into a march, and its last is the slow movement. In the first movement a partial working out of each theme follows immediately upon the first appearance of the theme. Dvorak is a Bohemian, and most of his works are Slavonic in color. He has introduced as a slow movement the "Dumka," or elegy, and in place of the scherzo the "furiant," which is explained by its name. During a stay in the United States he conceived the idea that an American element could be introduced into music by using themes resembling those of negro songs and Indian chants. His chief exemplification of his theory is found in his symphony in E minor, "From the New World." Dvorak's symphonies adhere closely to the principles of the sonata form, and are very popular in style without descending from the level of artistic music.

The music of Johannes Brahms has given rise to a great deal of controversy. Most recent writers have shown a tendency to break away from the strict letter of the sonata form, and too many commentators have come to mistake manner for matter. In calling those writers classic who have adhered to the classic sonata they have too often denied to them the possession of romantic feeling. At the same time some commentators have seemed to think that it was a work of virtue to preserve the sonata form precisely as it was left to us by the hand of Beethoven, while others held that any man who adhered to it was a mere formalist. It was criticism of this kind which obscured the merits of the late Johannes Brahms in his early days. It was not difficult for the commentators to perceive that Brahms employed the sonata form, and that he preserved the outlines laid down by Beethoven. For that they praised him, as if it were a sine qua non of absolute music that it should be in the sonata form. It is generally conceded that that form is the most intellectual, the most highly organized, which has yet been devised; but it is not and ought not to be conceded that a man is bound to adhere to that form. If he can produce another which presents an equally convincing process of musical development and conclusion, he deserves laudation as one who is not a mere student of forms, but is a master of the philosophy of form.

A piece of music is not necessarily formless because it is not built on the model of one of the acknowledged forms. A composer is not a heretic because he builds a new pattern. But there are certain fundamentals of form, and these we should demand in every work. In the simplest music we should require that there be recognizable a beginning, a middle, and an end. We should demand discernible rhythms and symmetrical phrases, and we should require that these be exhibited throughout the composition with evident design. In the higher forms there ought to be melodic subjects, and these subjects ought to be discussed and developed. It is almost impossible to escape the cyclic form, with its proposition, discussion, and conclusion; but if the composer does escape it, we must insist upon it that he adhere to the essential principle of repetition and that he distribute his repetitions in such a manner as to preserve the symmetry and balance of his work and to effect an organic unity. His work should contain nothing that does not belong to it. Every phrase should be, as W. A. Hadow suggests, "inevitable."

On the other hand a man is not necessarily a mere formalist because he clings to the old-fashioned sonata form. Brahms's compositions show a completeness of architectonic detail, superimposed upon a symmetrical and inevitable organic development, such as are to be found in those of no other symphonist, except Beethoven. Why deny to the late Viennese master depth of feeling because he fashioned the expression of that feeling with all the force of a gigantic musical intellect? Brahms's music grows slowly in popular favor because it is not easy for the careless hearer to grasp its inner spirit. But it is not true that music, to be real music, demands a Swinburnian diction.

That is great poetry, and the rhythm and the melody and feeling of it are as the music of Chopin and Schumann. But this also is great poetry:—

"And chiefly thou, O spirit! that dost prefer
Before all temples the upright heart and pure,
Instruct me, for thou knowest; thou from the first
Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,
Dovelike sat'st brooding on the vast abyss,
And madest it pregnant; what in me is dark
Illumine! what is low raise and support!
That to the height of this great argument
I may assert eternal Providence,
And justify the ways of God to men."

But the melody and the rhythm and the emotion of it are as the music of Brahms. Some day, I think, if not soon, the world will see how profoundly representative of his nation and his time Brahms was, and he will be hailed, as Milton was, an organ voice of his country. The irresistible seriousness of Germany has never spoken with more convincing accent than in the music of Brahms. There is a feeling in this music which is far removed from the possibility of a purely sensuous embodiment. It may take time for the entire musical world to come under the spell of this austere utterance; but Brahms had the happiness of knowing ere he died that wherever music was cultivated his individuality at least had made itself known.