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    Schubert's Promissory Note: An Exercise in Musical HermeneuticsAuthor(s): Edward T. ConeReviewed work(s):Source: 19th-Century Music, Vol. 5, No. 3 (Spring, 1982), pp. 233-241Published by: University of California PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/746462 .Accessed: 27/12/2011 12:01

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    Schub ert s romissory o t e

    A n x e r c i s e n M u s ic a l ermeneutics

    EDWARD T. CONE

    Hermeneutics is defined by the Shorter OxfordEnglish Dictionary as "the art or scienceof interpretation, esp. of Scripture." It wastoward the end of the last century that Her-mann Kretschmar applied the word to the ver-

    bal elucidation of musical meaning, but musi-cal hermeneutics was an art (or science) that,under one rubric or another, had long beenpractised. Music, it was generally agreed, hadmeaning. It was an art of expression; thereforeit should be possible to determine what it ex-pressed and how. Kretschmar, with his detailedattempts at exact explanation, thus rep-resented what might be called the dogmatic

    climax of a long tradition.At the very time he was writing, however, amore formalistic view, expounded by criticslike Gurney and Hanslick and furthered bytheorists like Schenker, was gaining support.Indeed, for a time the purists were successfulin discrediting hermeneutical methods and

    results--although their victories may havebeen due less to the force of their own logicthan to a widespread reaction against the ex-cesses of ultra-realistic program music on theone hand and of literalistic "interpretations"on the other. As a result, even those who stilldefended the possibility and relevance of musi-cal expression were loath to define its nature inany specific terms.

    Today, however, when it is once more ac-ceptable to admit an interest in the subject-matter and iconography of a painting, it hasbecome increasingly feasible to discuss theputative meaning of a musical compositionwithout evoking immediate derision. Therehave been a number of recent books that try,from various points of view, to come to gripswith the problems involved.'

    IE. g., Leonard B. Meyer, Emotion and Meaning in Music(Chicago, 1956); Deryck Cooke, The Language of Music(Oxford, 1959); Donald N. Ferguson, Music and Metaphor(Minneapolis, 1960); Terence McLaughlin, Music andCommunication

    (London, 1970);Wilson

    Coker,Music and

    Meaning (New York, 1972); Peter Kivy, The Corded Shell(Princeton, 1980).

    0148-2076/82/010233+09$00.50 @ 1982 by The Regentsof the University of California.

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    19THCENTURY

    MUSICTo be sure, not all discussions of musical

    meaning rely on the concept of expression.Wilson Coker, following certain semiologists,conveniently distinguished between two typesof meaning: congeneric and extrageneric.2 Thefirst of these refers to relationships entirelywithin a given medium. As applied to music, itincludes the significance that each part of acomposition possesses through its connectionswith other parts of the same composition, andthe significance that inheres in the composi-tion as a whole through its employment of a

    recognizable sonic vocabulary organized in anappropriate manner. Congeneric meaning thusdepends on purely musical relationships: ofpart to part within a composition, and of thecomposition to others perceived to be similarto it. It embraces the familiar subjects of syn-tax, formal structure, and style. And in fact,when the lucubrations of the recent school ofmusical semiologists are shorn of their preten-tious jargon, that is all they are usuallydiscussing--syntax, form, and style (and by nomeans always originally or even sensibly).

    What will chiefly concern us, however, isextrageneric meaning: the supposed referenceof a musical work to non-musical objects,events, moods, emotions, ideas, and so on.Here, obviously, we have returned, underanother name, to the realm of hermeneutics,and to the problem of musical expression. Onthis subject there is still wide divergence ofopinion; even those who vigorously defend theconcept often disagree as to its nature, itsrange, and its limits. Whereas the relative sta-bility of congeneric interpretations has tempt-ed some analysts to claim that their conclu-sions are objectively demonstrable, it is hard toreach any consensus about the expressive orother extrageneric significance of even thesimplest composition, save perhaps in thebroadest terms. Writers who are clear and pre-cise on congeneric meaning often become veryfuzzy when they turn to extrageneric, evenwhile insisting on its importance.

    Coker, for example, discusses the FuneralMarch from the Eroica Symphony in termsthat, with very slight modification, could

    equally well be applied to, say, the FuneralMarch from Chopin's Sonata in Bb Minor:

    The first part .. is dominated by an unmistakablymournful attitude, to which the second part ... con-trasts a prevalent mood of comfort with an allevia-tion of sorrow and even moments of exultation....The lament of the song is conveyed in gestures striv-ing to ascend only to fall back..., as under theweight of sorrow. The tone of mourning is estab-lished by a number of effects: the very slow, fixedpace of the underlying march rhythm; the minor keyand the long initial reiteration of the tonic triad... ;the prevailing lower registers ... in fairly dense

    sonorities;... and the suppressed dynamic levels.3

    One could continue further, omitting (wsabove) only the tell-tale measure numbers andremarks on instrumentation; for this accountof extrageneric meaning, like many others,deals primarily in surface generalities. A slow,plodding pace; narrowly circumscribed mel-odies; somber-usually minor-harmonies in

    a low register: these are the immediately ap-prehensible characteristics of the musical sur-face that identify the typical funeral march,whether by Beethoven or by Chopin.

    As the example shows, it is easy to assumethat one has explained content when in factone has only defined genre. Marches anddances, nocturnes and scherzi-the namessuggest gestures, affects, or moods, to which

    certain musical characteristics are thought tobe appropriate--usually broad features oftempo, meter, rhythm, mode, and the like. Andsuch features in turn are, it is true, often ac-cepted as defining basic types of expression.But generalizations are not enough; for surely,if a musical composition expresses anything atall, the importance of the expression must re-side in its uniqueness to that composition, not

    in what the composition shares with a dozenothers of the same genre. Specificity: that iswhat Mendelssohn was getting at in his oft-quoted statement: "The thoughts which areexpressed to me by music that I love are not tooindefinite to be put into words, but on the con-trary, too definite."4

    2Coker, Music and Meaning, p. 61.

    3Ibid., p. 172.4Letter to Marc-Andre Souchay of 15 October 1842, rpt. inComposers on Music, ed. Sam Morgenstern (New York,1956), p. 140.

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    Surface generalities, then, can tell us nomore about the content of a piece of musicthan the subject of a picture-e.g., a Crucifix-

    ion or a still-life-can tell us about its content.Chardin and Cezanne both painted oranges andapples, but what each expressed in his pictureswas his personal vision of the fruit. In the sameway, Beethoven and Chopin produced widelydiffering versions of the same subject, FuneralMarch.5

    Subject matter again is what is described,in a more detailed way, by the motivic vo-

    cabularies of the various types of Figuren-lehre, whether in earlier or in more recent for-mulations. More detailed, and often moremechanical-yet not more specific, as Cokerreveals when he employs the method to ex-plain the effect of the Trio of the FuneralMarch, which "clearly contrasts to the first[part] by giving a relief from distress and a moreencouraging attitude. Emphasis is on ascendinggestures in triads ... and in steadfast scalesrising."6

    No: the locus of expression in a musicalcomposition is to be sought neither in its widersurfaces nor in its more detailed motivic con-tours, but in its comprehensive design, whichincludes all the sonic elements and relatesthem to one another in a significant temporalstructure. In other words, extrageneric mean-

    ing can be explained only in terms of con-generic. If verbalization of true content-thespecific expression uniquely embodied in awork-is possible at all, it must depend onclose structural analysis.

    That analysis is all most of us need, most ofthe time. For surely the best that can be said forthe verbalization of content is what Men-delssohn went on to add, in the quoted letter:

    "And so I find in every effort to express suchthoughts, that something is right but at thesame time, that something is lacking in all ofthem." Nevertheless, those of us who do be-lieve in the existence and relevance of ex-

    trageneric meaning ought to find it uncomfort-able to be in the position of insisting on thevalidity of a concept that cannot be preciselydefined, and instances of which are at bestproblematic. Once in a while we should try toderive from the structural analysis of a com-position an account of its expressive content.That is what I propose to do in the case ofSchubert's Moment musical in Ab, op. 94,no. 6.

    Since a complete analysis of even such a shortpiece-let alone a detailed treatment of its expres-sive content-would take much more than theavailable space, I shall limit my discussion to salientfeatures that are special to this composition, and Ishall try to show how their congeneric interrelationsaccount for their extrageneric significance. I shalltherefore assume agreement about certain formalaspects of the piece, taking it as established that theMoment musical consists of a three-part song form

    in Ab major with a Trio in the subdominant, Dbmajor. Its phrase-articulations, harmonic progres-sions, and motivic manipulations are clearlydefined. The opening statement consists of twobalancing eight-measure phrases, each articulated 2+ 2+ 4, the antecedent cadencing on the dominantand the consequent on the tonic. The soprano lineestablishes the fifth degree, Eb, reaffirms it by thetonicization of V, and descends to Ab for an authen-tic cadence. A pattern of suspensions set up at theoutset suggests a meter of 6underlying the notated 3;moreover it produces a little rhythmic aaba patternin each large phrase. All then is in order: a periodexhibiting exact parallelism.

    But does it? There is an arpeggiated upbeat in m.4 that is not duplicated at the corresponding point inthe consequent (m. 12). This prepares for a muchmore momentous element of imbalance: the descentof the bass into a lower register and the fp that marksthe tonicization of V in m. 7. These characteristicsof range and dynamics are echoed, not at the corres-ponding cadence at the end of the consequent, but atits midpoint, mm. 10-12. Here too is a tonicization,this one effected by two chromatics: a B?, which,like the earlier D?, resolves normally upward, and anE?. The arrival of the latter, replacing a previous Ebas the resolution of the suspended F, producesanother half-cadence, this one on V/vi. But now theEr moves down to Eb, pulling an implied toniciza-tion of vi back into the original key.

    The result is to make of the prominent ENwhat Icall, if the pun may be forgiven, a promissory note. Ithas strongly suggested an obligation that it has failedto discharge-in the present case, its function as aleading tone. Now, I do not wish to suggest that allincomplete tonicizations represent promises to be

    EDWARD T.CONESchubert'sPromissoryNote

    SFor further discussion of this analogy, see my "Music, aView from

    Delft," rpt.in

    Perspectiveson

    ContemporaryMusic Theory, ed. Benjamin Boretz and Edward T. Cone(New York, 1972), pp. 57-71.6Coker, Music and Meaning, pp. 174-75.

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    19THCENTURY

    MUSICkept during the future course of the composition inwhich they occur. The persistence of such an impli-cation depends not only on the specific context in

    which the progression occurs, but also on widerinfluences of style, both personal and historical. Isuspect, for example, that the development ofnineteenth-century harmony might be analyzedlargely in terms of the increasing freedom shown bycomposers in their dealings with promissorysituations-in the development of more and moreunorthodox methods of repayment, even in theeventual refusal to recognize the debt. (As we shallsee, that is almost the case with Schubert in theMoment musical. )

    Normally, in music of the eighteenth and earlynineteenth centuries, promissory status is de-manded, or at least requested, by a note-or moreaccurately, though less paronomastically, an entirechord-that has been blocked from proceeding to anindicated resolution, and whose thwarted conditionis underlined both by rhythmic emphasis and by rel-ative isolation. Rhythmic emphasis, of course, re-sults from the stressed position of the chord within(or outside of) a phrase, from special agogic ordynamic inflection, or from a combination of those.Isolation is effected not only by the motivic detach-ment that often separates such a chord from itssurroundings, but also by harmonic novelty. Thepromissory chord s promoted, so to speak, by an in-surrection that tries, but fails, to turn the course ofthe harmony in its own new direction.

    Although such chords are temporarily deprivedof their expected resolutions, the result is not, prop-erly speaking, a deceptive cadence. What makes thestandard deceptive cadence work is the fact that thedominant chord is almost properly resolved; indeed,the voice-leading binds it even more tightly to itssuccessor than in the typical authentic cadence. Apromissory chord, on the other hand, is separatedfrom what follows by a sudden switch in direction,of voice-leading as well as of harmony-and mostoften by a break n the rhythmic flow too. The com-bination of emphasis and separation draws specialattention to the unresolved chord and enables it toestablish its influence so powerfully that it seems torequire later attention, the most obvious form ofwhich is a

    prominentresolution so stated as to re-

    mind the acute listener of its connection with thepromissory chord.

    Closely related to the promissory situation--and, indeed, often similarly treated-is the half-cadence, usually on V/vi, that sometimes concludesthe development of a Classical sonata-form move-ment, or the entire slow movement of a Baroquesonata or concerto. Unlike the typical promissorychord, however, which appears early in a movementor a section, the secondary dominant in this case

    normally appears at theend of a

    progressionthat has

    already clarified its syntactic function. Its resolu-tion, supplied in advance as it were, is clearly under-stood and requires no later confirmation (although,

    to be sure, that may be forthcoming anyway7). Look,for example, at the end of the development of theopening Allegro of Beethoven's Quartet in D, op. 18,

    no. 3. The reiterated V/vi in mm. 154-56 is theclimax of a passage in which the tonality of vi (Fgminor) is explicitly formulated, and in which the re-sponsibilities of its dominant have in a sense alreadybeen discharged. The composer even gives oneample time to think that over, as he sustains the cel-lo's Cg for two measures before transforming t intothe leading tone of the true tonic, D, and quitting theFg-minor tonality for good.

    Contrast now the opening Allegro of the samecomposer's Piano Sonata in F, op. 10, no. 2. Here the

    smooth progress of the movement is very soon (mm.16-18) interrupted by a sudden half-cadence onV/iii-a threefold statement in an emphatic forte,rhythmically and motivically separate from itssurroundings. What follows is a new theme in thedominant that leaves the unresolved V/iii hanging asan obvious promissory chord. It should thereforecause no surprise to find the development sectionbeginning with a sudden shift to the mediant (al-most as if the entire dominant section of the exposi-tion had been a parenthesis). To be sure, the de-

    velopment might have started that way in any case;but the virtue of the promissory technique is rarelyto elicit a harmony that would otherwise bemissing-rather, it is to draw temporally separatedsections of a work into more intimate and more in-teresting connection.

    In the Moment musical No. 6, isolation and em-phasis work together to produce a strong promissoryeffect. The pattern of rests has, from the outset,separated each motive from its fellows. That separa-tion is exaggerated in the case that interests us,where the subito forte, the octave shift in the bass,and the octave doubling all draw special attention.(Contrast mm. 4-8, where the descent in the bass isarpeggiated, he doublings are introduced gradually,and the forte occurs during the rise and fall of the

    The move toward F minor is hardly unprepared.That chord is foreshadowed in the opening: subtlyembedded n the first downbeat, more frankly statedin the vi6 of m. 3. But both of those are treated as

    7The Phrygian cadence that serves as a slow movement forthe Third Brandenburg Concerto is a revealing exception.Whatever this progression may represent in the way of im-provised cadenza or other elaboration, its isolation andrhythmic weight are sufficient to ensure the promissorystatus of its concluding V/vi, for which there has obviouslybeen no opportunity of advance payment. Satisfactioncomes with the first modulation in the second section ofthe binary finale, which introduces an extended passage in

    vi, punctuated by an authentic cadence (m. 16) thatexplicitly recalls and resolves the dominant previously lefthanging. A standard developmental progression is thus im-bued with wider significance.

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    suspensions and fail as functional harmonies. Thehalf-cadence of mm. 10-12, with its stronglydominant-seeking French sixth, uncovers the con-cealed submediant influence. So when the conclud-ing phrase-member, dutifully remembering the de-mands of the true dominant of mm. 7-8 suppressesthe tendency toward vi and turns the E? downwardto Eb, the E? remains in the ear as a troubling ele-ment of which one expects to hear more.

    It is not surprising, therefore, to find Ehdominat-ing the contrasting section of the song form. But un-like the development of the Beethoven sonata,which legitimized the foreign leading tone by animmediate reference to its tonic, this one is by nomeans

    eagerto do likewise. It

    prefersrather to dwell

    on the promissory note and to investigate further itspeculiar connection with Eb. The first step is to re-state E? as Fb. In so doing, the music enlists the twoother previously heard chromatic tones, B? (Cb) andD?, sounding all three together in a German sixth(mm. 16-17). The En-Eb contrast is thus explainedby reinterpretation as 6-5 in Ab minor-a detailstated three times during the initial phrase of thedevelopment: first in the bass, next in an innervoice, and finally in the exposed soprano.

    That phrase, constructed on the 2 + 2 + 4 modelof its predecessors, terminates on a half-cadence inAb minor, and its consequent at first seems to prom-ise the expected conventional balance. But no:the Flb easserts its importance. Refusing to be drawnback into Ab minor, it replaces the Eb in i6 in orderto convert it into VI6 mm. 28-29), thus initiating amodulation to its own key, spelled for convenienceas E . This time it is the turn of the Eb to assume thesubsidiary role. Spelled now as D?, it must resolve as

    a leading tone to E?. The extension required to pro-duce a convincing cadence results in the first viola-tion of the eight-measure pattern, a phrase with oneadditional measure: 2 + 2 + 5. But that is not all.The final E is extended as a pedal in the bass, overwhich a new three-measure cadence is twice stated.The melodic and rhythmic flexibility that hasgradually insinuated itself into the precedingphrases is now at its most ingratiating-by virtuenot only of the three-measure ormat itself, but alsoof the triplet upbeat, the embellishing grace-notes,and the chromaticism of the sinuously introducedand cancelled Ag (mm. 34-35). The melody, bycompleting an octave descent from the original E?

    (mm. 29-33), leads into a richly sonorous lower reg-ister. The restrained, carefully measured satisfac-tions of the opening have been gradually trans-formed by the development into the more sensuousdelights of a berceuse.

    The return to the original key is simple: themajor chord on E, by the addition of a seventh, re-verts to its status as an augmented sixth on Fb (m.41). At the same time, the move suggests a slightuneasiness with respect to the cadence on E: was itas firm as it seemed? Was it not perhaps usurping a

    tonicization to which it had no right? It is significantthat the key was never clinched by a clear referenceto some form of subdominant. There was an obviousopportunity for a ii6 in m. 32 (as in ex. 1), but theoffer was spurned: he retention of B in the bass con-verted the chord into a dominant ninth. Moreover,in m. 41, only the momentary doubling of G? (Ab)keeps it from being heard as a leading tone, and theentire measure as V8-7on E preparing or a cadenceon A, with a continuation in that key (as in ex. 2).

    EDWARD T.CONESchubert'sPromissoryNote

    A ?

    ,i 3-

    Example 1

    411

    j ~ ai~ -~ tlcresc.elk , + i i i'i _ - -.

    W*.. .. , ,i.....W......... ., - , + ... . , .1 """f, I I . '-I I +.i l I il -l v,,141 . ... li l

    Example 2

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    19THCENTURY

    MUSIC

    f P ~f f

    P

    x a m p l e

    That temptation is resisted, however. The chord is

    interpreted as an Italian sixth which initiates the re-turn to Ab. At the same time, a recall of the originalsuspension motive induces a reversion to the binarymeasure-pattern. After two four-measure phrases(mm. 40-47), the third, on a climactic forte, is ex-tended to six measures by a carefully written outdiminuendo-ritardando merging without cadenceinto the two-measure motive that inaugurates thereprise. Thus the irregularities of the developmentsection have yielded to a version of the original pat-tern: 4 + 4 + 8 measures (mm. 40-55) that overlapthe returning 2 + 2 + 4 (mm. 54-61), much as themotives of the development overlap those of theopening.

    That is perhaps one reason why the reprise doesnot begin immediately after the arrival of the tonicin mm. 46-47. There is another reason, equally im-portant, in the F-minor harmony that introduces thetransitional progression vi6-vii7-V6-j (mm. 47-53).For here at last is the long-postponed discharge ofthe responsibilities of E? as a leading tone. True, theF minor is not tonicized, nor is its bass assigned to aroot in the lower register; but there are significantindications of the connection nevertheless. Thedoublings are heavy. The subito forte recalls that ofmm. 10-12. The line, leading from F down to Bb,and forecasting an ultimate Ab, is a reinterpretationof the original descent of mm. 11-16. To hear thelong-range connection I am trying to establish, playthe following in unbroken succession: mm. 73-92,8mm. 103-122, and then mm. 473-532 (ex. 3).

    At last, then, the promise of E? as a leading tonehas been kept. Yet how close the music came toforestalling the fulfillment That can be demon-strated very simply by a performance that omitsthe passage mm. 473-532. The result, superficially atleast, is acceptable. And is there not perhaps a touchof irony in the insinuation of the problematic noteonce again into the descending line of mm. 51-53,immediately after the emphatic proclamation of Fminor? To be sure, the note now seems docile, form-ing a passing and passive diminished seventh instead

    of a recalcitrant applied dominant. At the same

    time, it can be taken as a signal that the road to thefinal cadence is not quite clear, despite the unusu-ally felicitous reestablishment of the tonic major.

    There remain two other troubling points as well.One is the nagging doubt left by the E-major cadencein m. 33: was it a completely satisfactory tonic, ordid it exude a faint dominant flavor? Did the de-velopment, in giving E its own head, perhaps en-courage it to incur still further obligations? Theother point looks forward to the course of the re-capitulation: now that the V/vi has been satisfacto-

    rily resolved, how can it return? If it cannot, whatwill replace it?What does occur, as Elizabeth Bowen says of the

    action of a well-constructed novel, is unforeseen inprospect yet inevitable in retrospect.9 The firstphrase of the reprise is regular; it differs from itsmodel only in a cadence that is f rather than fp. Thatmodification permits a forte consequent that retainsthe lower bass register and its octave doubling-atype of instrumentation appropriate to a crucialchord: an alteration of the original IV7 into the mostpainful dissonance of the entire piece. For the EBhasreturned once more, now as an Fb that replaces the F(m. 62). This Fb, in turn, twice forces the suspendedC to pass through Cb on the way to its resolution onBb-thereby filling in the one element missing inthe chromatic descent of mm. 51-55, and at thesame time reversing the situation of mm. 10-12,where it was the B? that had called forth the EB.

    The new combination of Fb and Cb is too strongto be resisted. The fortissimo continuation of thephrase brings them both back with a new bass, Ebb,here spelt as D?. That, of course, is none other thanthe dissonant tone of the old German sixth of mm.16-17. This time, however, it is in the powerful bassposition; and this time the chord insists on beingtreated as a dominant, thus confirming our earliersuspicions.

    8I.e., from the third beat of m. 7 through the second beat ofm. 9.

    9"Story involves action. Action towards an end not to beforeseen

    (bythe

    reader),but also toward an end

    which,hav-

    ing been reached, must be seen to have been from the startinevitable." Elizabeth Bowen, Pictures and Conversations(New York, 1974), p. 170.

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    The result is an expansion of the consequentphrase that is terrifying in its intensity. The phraseis, as it were, broken wide open by reiterations of thenew V2and its resolution to a tonicized

    Neapolitan.A first attempt to return to the true tonic fails, inter-rupted again by an echo of the Neapolitan interpola-tion. The effect of that interpolation lingers evenwhen the return to the tonic at last succeeds. Theapproach s made each time through the minor; andit is the minor color that remains in the ear, eventhough the final resolution is on a starkly ambigu-ous octave Ab. The harmonic material of the de-velopment, then, has infiltrated the reprise withdevastating effect. In the same way, the rhythmic ir-

    regularity, experienced in the development as anagreeable loosening of the tight proportions of theopening, has now almost destroyed the original ba-lance. Eight measures, 2 + 2 + 4, are answered bysixteen, but not 4 + 4 + 8: they are 2 + 2 + 5 + 7

    The final empty octave is a neat tactical device.A return to major would have produced a sudden jarafter the minor i6; moreover, it would have beenimmediately cancelled by the conventional repeti-tion of the entire section. But a minor chord wouldnot have led into the Trio, which, construing the

    final Ab as a dominant, plunges immediately into Dbas a new tonic.About the Trio I shall point out only that it too

    plays with the chromatic neighbors to the fifth de-gree (now G? and Bbb),but in an innocuous way, asbefits the unproblematical yricism of the interlude.(In fact, even the minor third is safe here. It is heardonly once-m. 97-and then enharmonically as apassing E?, not as a true Fb.) The only moment ofambiguity occurs during the little digression, whenthe Ebb and its embracing diminished seventh aregiven a new interpretation (m. 101) in a passage thatoccasions the only exception to the regularity of thephrase-structure six measures instead of the prevail-ing four). The following reprise can now dispensewith the Bbb altogether, basing its consequentphrase on the unalloyed major scale.

    The subdominant tonality of the Trio as a wholecan be heard as the expansion of a function embed-ded in the opening motive of the entire piece. Thatinitial progression, before its second chord resolvesas a suspension, sounds like I-IV7. The impression iseven stronger when the first measures, returningafter the close of the Trio, echo the V-I of the Dbcadence. Song form and Trio are bound together bythe Ab-Db bass that introduces the Trio and thatgoverns its departure.

    The foregoing partial analysis of the struc-ture of the Moment musical has also been an

    analysis of its congeneric meaning, for thoseterms are simply two ways of characterizingthe same body of information. Congeneric

    meaning-or structural content, as I prefer tocall it, stressing that identity-is precise andspecific, for it is uniquely defined by a singlecomposition. But possible extragenericmeaning-or what I call expressive content-seems to depend on choices from a bewilderingarray of admissible interpretations. I havecoined the phrase "expressive potential" tosignify this "wide but not unrestricted range ofpossible expression."'1 The range is wide be-cause (pace those who subscribe to the morerigid versions of Affektenlehre) there is no rule

    or code by which we can translate musical ges-tures into exact expressive equivalents-certainly not in the sense that we can translatewords into concepts, or images into objects. Atthe same time it must be stressed that therange is not unrestricted; for the expressivecontent-the human activity or state of mindadduced as an interpretation of the music-must be congruous with the structural

    content-the musical action itself. In otherwords, "We subconsciously ascribe to themusic a content based on the correspondencebetween musical gestures and their patterns onthe one hand, and isomorphically analogousexperiences, inner or outer, on the other.""What all such experiences have in commonconstitutes what I call the expressive potential.

    What, then is the expressive potential of

    Moment musical No. 6? What kinds of humansituations present themselves as congruouswith its structure? An astute reader will havenoticed that my analysis has not been whollyobjective. I have insinuated a few leadingphrases to suggest to him the kind of expres-sion I find in the work, and to encourage him tohear it in the same way. As I apprehend thework, it dramatizes the injection of a strange,unsettling element into an otherwise peacefulsituation. At first ignored or suppressed, thatelement persistently returns. It not only makesitself at home but even takes over the directionof events in order to reveal unsuspected pos-sibilities. When the normal state of affairseventually returns, the originally foreign ele-

    EDWARD T.CONESchubert'sPromissoryNote

    1oEdward T. Cone, The Composer's Voice (Berkeley andLos Angeles, 1974), p. 166.11Ibid., p. 169.

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    19THCENTURY

    MUSICment seems to have been completely assimi-lated. But that appearance is deceptive. Theelement has not been tamed; it bursts out witheven greater force, revealing itself as basicallyinimical to its surroundings, which it proceedsto demolish.

    That is an account, in as general terms aspossible, of the expressive potential I find inthe principal song form of the Moment musi-cal. When I try to relate this abstraction to amore specific situation by adducing an"isomorphically analogous experience" (al-ways, of course, with Mendelssohn's reserva-tion in mind), I assume the arrival of the"foreign element" to be symbolic of the occur-rence of a disquieting thought to one of a tran-quil, easy-going nature. Disquieting, but at thesame time exciting, for it suggests unusual andinteresting courses of action. As an old teacherof mine used to say (probably quoting one ofthe Church Fathers), "The first step in yieldingto a temptation is to investigate it." That iswhat happens here. One can imagine the pro-tagonist becoming more and more fascinatedby his discoveries, letting them assume controlof his life as they reveal hitherto unknown andpossibly forbidden sources of pleasure. Whenhe is recalled to duty, he tries to put these ex-periences behind him and to sublimate thethoughts that led to them. At first he seemssuccessful, but the past cannot remain hidden.What was repressed eventually returns andrises in the end to overwhelm him.

    The Trio, of course, tries to forget thecatastrophe-just as one might try to comfortoneself in the enjoyment of art, or naturalbeauty, or the company of friends. The iden-tification of the new Db tonic with the sub-dominant of the opening phrase might even betaken as symbolizing the attempted recovery ofa past innocence. No matter: the Trio isdoomed to failure. The memory of the originalcourse of events is bound to recur, and the dacapo leads inevitably to the same tragic con-clusion. (Formal repetitions are often best in-terpreted as representations of events rehearsedin memory. A dramatic action can never beexactly duplicated; yet, as the Moment musi-cal illustrates more than once, we must fre-quently accept literal repetitions of sections of

    music usually considered to be highly drama-tic.)

    This, then, is the personal contact I makewith the psychic pattern embodied in the mu-sical structure of the Moment musical. It is anexample of what I have called context: ". . . notthe content ... [but] the necessary vehicle ofthe content." For I believe that "the content ofinstrumental music is revealed to each listenerby the relation between the music and the per-sonal context he brings to it."12 1can go furtherand suggest a more specific interpretation ofthat context: it can be taken as a model of theeffect of vice on a sensitive personality. A vice,as I see it, begins as a novel and fascinatingsuggestion, not necessarily dangerous thoughoften disturbing. It becomes dangerous,however, as its increasing attractivenessencourages investigation and experimentation,leading to possible obsession and eventual ad-diction. If one now apparently recovers self-control, believing that the vice has been mas-tered, it is often too late: either the habit re-turns to exert its domination in some fearfulform, or the effects of the early indulgence haveleft their indelible and painful marks on thepersonality-and frequently, of course, on thebody as well.

    I stress this interpretation, not for any mor-alistic reason, but because of its bearing onthe final step in my investigation. That con-sists in an attempt to answer what is possibly aforbidden question. What context might thecomposer himself have adduced? What per-sonal experiences might Schubert have consid-ered relevant to the expressive significance ofhis own composition?

    In dealing with the relation of music to itscomposer's own emotional life, I realize that Ican put forward only the most tentative ofhypotheses. But I am encouraged to do so inthis case by the memory of an illuminatingpassage from Edmund Wilson's essay on OscarWilde. In a discussion of the effects of thewriter's syphilitic infection on his life andwork, he wrote:

    12Ibid., . 171.

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    Read The Picture of Dorian Gray, or even the best ofthe fairy tales, The Birthday of the Infanta, with theSpirochaeta pallida in mind. In such stories, thetragic heroes are shown in the peculiar position ofsuffering from organic maladies . . . without, up to apoint, being forced to experience the evils entailedby them. ... But in the end, in both cases, the horrorbreaks out: the afflicted one must recognize himselfand be recognized by other people as the odious cre-ature he is, and his disease or disability will killhim.13

    It is well established now that Schubert,

    too, suffered from syphilis.14 The disease wasprobably contracted late in 1822; and althoughit was ameliorated by treatment, or perhapsjust by time, it was, of course, in those daysincurable. Did Schubert's realization of thatfact, and of its implications, induce, or at leastintensify, the sense of desolation, even dread,that penetrates much of his music from thenon? (Our Moment musical dates from 1824.)is

    To be sure, a rapidly increasing emotional

    maturity was already in evidence-witness thecontrast between the so-called "Tragic" Sym-

    phonyof 1816 and the "Unfinished"

    (althoughthat doom-laden score of fall, 1822, may al-ready reflect the composer's early awareness,or suspicion, of his condition). Later on a coldwind seems to blow through even some of hissunniest or most placid movements. Listen, forexample, to the Andante of the String Quartetin G, to the Adagio of the String Quintet, to theAndante molto that introduces and interruptsthe finale of the Octet.

    Listen, above all, to the Moment musicalNo. 6. Here, if anywhere, "the horror breaksout." As Shakespeare's Edgar put it:

    The gods are just, and of our pleasant vicesMake instruments to plague us.

    Is it too fanciful to hear a similar reaction mus-ically embodied in the tonal struc- "rM

    ture of the Moment musical? -,

    EDWARD T.CONESchubert'sPromissoryNote

    13Edmund Wilson, "Oscar Wilde: 'One Must Always SeekWhat Is Most Tragic'," rpt. in Classics and Commercials(New York, 1950), p. 341.14See Eric Sams, "Schubert's Illness Re-examined," Musi-cal Times 121 (1980), 15-22.151sItirst appeared in an Album musical published by Sauer& Leidesdorf in December of that year. Gary Wittlich hascalled my attention to the suggestive title it bore in thatcollection: Les Plaintes d'un troubadour. Perhaps the titlewas the publishers' invention; but one who believes it was

    really the composer's may well wonder whether he was nothis own Troubadour. See Otto Erich Deutsch, TheSchubert Reader (New York, 1947), pp. 387-88.

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