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Variations in Manifold Time:

Historical Consciousness in the Music and Writings of
Arnold Schoenberg

A Dissertation Presented
by
Steven Joel Cahn
to
The Graduate School in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the
Degree of
Doctor of Philosophy

m
Yfusic
State University of ~e\1/ York
Stony Brook
August 1996

UMI Number: 9713848

Copyright 1996 by
Cahn, Steven Joel
All rights reserved.

UMI Microform 9713848

Copyright 1997, by UMI Company. All rights reserved.

This microform edition is protected against unauthorized

copying under Title 17, United States Code.

UMI

300 North Zeeb Road

Ann Arbor, MI 48103

Copyright by
Steven Joel Cahn
1996

State University of New York

at Stony Brook
The Graduate School
Slcvcn Joel ( 'alll1
We. the dissertation cortlmiUee for thc ahove candidatc for the
Doctor of Philosophy degrec. herehy recolllmend
acceptance of this dissertation .

.' I

__~/,--.,!~/--,'t(l
/

<

td-' I d~L______--- .-

Richard Kramcr, Profcssor. Dcpartmcnt of Music

uner. Professor. Dcpar11llent of Music

Michael eherlin. Professor, Department of Music,

University of Minnesota

This dissertation is aCl:eptcd hy the (iradualc School

The (jradllate School

"

Abstract of the Dissertation

Variations in Manifold Time:
Historical Consciousness in the Music and Writings of
Arnold Schoenberg
by
Steven Joel Cahn
Doctor of Philosophy

in
Music
State University of New York at Stony Brook
1996

Questioning the entrenched and monochromatic view of Schoenberg's

historical consciousness. that he saw himself as history's instrument for the
advancement of music. this study finds Schoenberg's historical consciousness to be
multifaceted. The most important common factor is creativity, which should be
animated by historical consciousness. not squelched by it. In this respect,
Schoenberg's thought is resonant with that of Goethe. Kant. HegeL Wilhelm von
Humboldt, Zunz. Krochmal, Nietzsche, Bergson, Musil, Rosenzweig and Cohen.
Like Schoenberg. each of these thinkers espouses the boundlessness of possibility.
variation and creativity in the world. Yet Schoenberg's works also bring into relief
the conflicted coexistence of historical consciousness and artistic creativity.
To illustrate the devitalizing aspects of history, Schoenberg's views are
compared to similar views of Rosenzweig and Musil. Polemics between
Schoenberg and those who see decline in modem art, such as Schenker. Riemann

iii

and Spengler. reveal Schoenberg's antipathy to excesses of history. Nietzsche's

The Use and Abuse of History infonns this analysis (chapter one).
We next consider how historical consciousness can foster creativity. Karl
Popper argues that Schoenberg entangled art with historicist ideology. This view is
incomplete because it neglects the idea which Schoenberg inherited from modern
Judaism's tum to history. that historical understanding promotes cultural
regeneration (chapter 2).
To show how works may embody one or more historical positions.
Schoenberg's compositions are considered in light of his attempts at historical
narrative, which are analyzed with respect to four themes: continuity,
discontinuity. social history and the phenomenology of creativity (chapter 3).
Affinities between art and history suggested in the work of Humboldt.
Bergson, Croce. Musil, D'Arcy Thompson, Lakoff. Edelman and Gruber are
related to Schoenberg's writings (chapter 4). Th ..:--e findings ground the analyses
of four works: Erwartung, Die gliickliche Hand. VorgefiihI, Op. 22. No.4-and A
Survivor from Warsaw (chapter 5).
The Five Piano Pieces. Op 23. are discussed in terms of conflicts that arise
when aesthetic and historical assessments of a musical composition disagree. and in
terms of how Schoenberg addressed such conflicts (chapter 6).
Schoenberg's evolutionary and intuitionistic view of musical perception. as
described in Harmonielehre, is considered vis-a.-vis the contrasting evolutionary
views of Mach and Bergson (chapter 7).

lV

To my dear father. Monon S. Cahn, of blessed memory, and

my dear mother, Rhoda Cahn.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments
1.

On Creative Imagination and Historical Consciousness .................. 1

II.

On Historical Consciousness as an Ideological Source ................... 69

III.

The Emergence of Schoenberg's Historical Consciousness ............. 150

IV.

On the Interaction of Phantasy and Historical Consciousness ........... 261

V.

Historical Consciousness in Schoenberg's Music ......................... 313

VI.

Schoenberg's Five Piano Pieces, Op. 23: Judgment and Purpose ..... 388

VII.

Between Pitch Class and

Empfindun~swelt

............................... .433

Selected Bibliography ........................................................ .463

vi

List of lliustrations

Musical EXamples
1.1

Beethoven. Piano Sonata. Op. 53 ........................................... 39

3.1

Verklarte Nacht, Op. 4, (mm. 338 and 391) ............................... 165

3.2

Verklarte Nacht, Op. 4. (mm. 276ff. 319ff. and 336ff.) ................ 169

3.3

Pelleas und Melisande, Op. 5. "catacomb" music ......................... 184

3.4

Strin~

3.5

Kammersymphonie No. I, Op. 9 ........................................... 196

3.6

Strin~

Quartet, Op. lO ........................................................ 202

3.7

An~st

und Hoffen, Op. 15, No.7 .......................................... 206

3.8

Variations, Op. 31. Theme ................................................... 250

4. 1

"The Art of the Caricaturist," transcription ................................. 290

5.1

Erwartun~,

Op. 17. (+3. +8) trichords and variants ...................... 329

5.2

Erwartun~.

Op. 17, <Eb. D. B> motive ................................... 331

5.3

Erwartun~.

5.4

Erwartun~.

5.5

Die

~liickliche

Hand. Op. 18. (m. 34 and m. 174) ......................... 345

5.6

Die

~Iiickliche

Hand. Op. 18. (m. 126). color crescendo motif ......... 349

5.7

Vor~efiihl.

Op. 22. No.4. m. I and varied forms ........................ 354

5.8

VOf/~efiihl,

Op. 22. No.4. vocal line ....................................... 364

5.9

Vor~efiihl,

Op. 22. No.4. mm. 19-20 ..................................... 368

6.1

Theory of Harmony, Example 233 ......................................... .413

Quartet, Op. 7 .......................................................... 193

Op. 17, occurrences of Lied before

ffi.

404 .................. 333

Op. 17. (mm. 404-12) .......................................... 336

vii

6.2

Klavierstuck, Op. 23, No.1, a retrograde asymmetry .................... 416

6.3

Klavierstuck, Op. 23, No.1, all possible trichords ....................... 418

6.4

KlavierstOck, Op. 23, No.1, [C, G, D] gesture .......................... 420

6.5

KlavierstOck, Op. 23, No.1, m. 13 and m. 33 compared ............... 421

6.6

KlavjerstUck, Op. 23, No.2, m. 4 and m. 17 compared ................ .423

6.7

KlavierstUck, Op. 23, No.2, m. 1 and mm. 19-20 compared ...........424

6.8

KlavierstOck, Op. 23. No.3, schematic of mm. 30-35 ................... 425

6.9

KlavierstOck, Op. 23. No.3. transformations in mm. 30-35 ........... .425

6.10

KlavierstUck, Op. 23, No.3. I-invariance matrix ........................ .426

6.11

Klaviersttick, Op. 23. No.4. the four hexachords ........................ .428

6.12

Klaviersttick, Op. 23. No.5. gestural analogy ........................... .430

7.1

KlavierstUck. Op. 23. No.2. closure through order reversal ........... .437

7.2

Klaviersttick, Op. 23. No.2. m. 7 with sketch ........................... .438

Fi~ures

4.1

After Albrecht DUrer, angled grid ........................................... 288

4.2

After Albrecht DUrer. nonuniform grid ..................................... 288

4.3

Antigonia Capros and Scorpaena sp ........................................ 289

7.1

Two visions. grid ............................................................. 435

viii

Acknowledgments

Two profoundly challenging seminars led jointly to the initial conception of

this project. The first seminar, led by Prof. Richard Hoffmann, considered the
music and life of Schoenberg. It met during January 1980 at the Schoenberg
Institute in MOdling bei Wien with the support of the Oberlin Conservatory. In
1984, Prof. Leo Treitier's seminar considered the philosophy of history and its
significance for understanding the arts and their history. Both were unforgettable
experiences. These studies were further enriched thanks to both Prof. Sanford
Margolis, with whom I studied Schoenberg's piano music, and Prof. Michael
Cheriin with whom I pursued theoretical studies in twentieth-century music.
As my advisor, Prof. Richard Kramer pennitted the latitude and demanded
the discipline this particular project required, and gave the manuscript the most
thoughtful and dedicated scrutiny. I am grateful for his help at every tum. I am
also grateful for the interest and support of the other members of my committee.
professors Joseph Auner, Judith Lochhead. Michael Cherlin, David Lawton. as
well as that of professors Sarah Fuller, and Peter Winkler, who all helped to sustain
this project through difficult periods.
My deep gratitude to the Graduate School of SUNY Stony Brook for the
award of a dissertation fellowship that was so very instrumental in allowing this
project to advance through certain critical phases as rapidly as it did.
I must thank the esteemed professors who either spent time with one or
more chapters of the dissertation or took time and trouble over specific questions I
had. In the field of music, my thanks to professors Milton Babbitt, Randolph

Coleman. Stephen Dembski. Brian Hyer, David Lewin, Roben Morris. Joseph
Straus and Paul Zukofsky. Special thanks to Prof. Scott Burnham and pianist
Stefan Litwin. from whom I received guidance on questions of Gennan translation.
Of musical enthusiasts from other disciplines, my thanks to professors Gerald M.
Edelman, Stephen Jay Gould and John Searle. I am deeply grateful for the
guidance of Chancellor Ismar Schorsch. Rabbi Shimon Brand and Rabbi Martin
Rozenberg as I was trying to integrate important research in the field of Jewish
studies and understand its significance for Schoenberg studies.
For their friendship. intellectual vivacity and enthusiasm for this project. my
thanks to Glenn Ackerman. Elizabeth Behnnan. David Berg. Roben Clarida.
Cantor Doreen Garnell, who undertook the study of Schoenberg's Georgelieder
with me. Eric Hughson. Rabbi Simeon and Sherry Kolko. Ned Lerner, Barbara
Christen and David Luljak. Jeffrey Lunden, Gary Malvern, John and Debbie
Orenstein, Janna Saslaw and lames P. Walsh. Rabbi Ethan and Rachel Seidel and
Yayoi Uno. Many thanks to my colleagues Elizabeth Keathley, Jennifer Shaw and
Chip Whitesell. who through their own contributions have made Stony Brook a
stimulating place to pursue Schoenberg studies. I must also pause to remember the
tragic loss of three cherished friends. Charlene Bauer, z'l, Jennifer Mills and Rabbi
Michael Harel. z'l, whose memory shall always be a blessing.
My sincere thanks to Mr. Lawrence A. Schoenberg for permission to study
the correspondence in the Schoenberg Collection of the Library of Congress, and
especially for permission to reproduce the correspondence between Schoenberg and
Bruno Walter pertaining to the performance ofVerkHirte Nacht. I am equally
grateful for permission from the Arnold Schoenberg Institute Archives for

permission to quote passages from Schoenberg's unpublished writings.

For his expen and gracious help at the Arnold Schoenberg Institute
Archives as well as his encouragement. many thanks to Wayne Shoaf. My thanks
to Dr. Wayne Shirley on whose expertise I relied at the Library of Congress. At
Stony Brook. my thanks to librarians loan Signorelli and Gerry Wagner and to
depanment secretary loan VogeUe who. semester in and semester out. went out of
their way so many times to help me out and cheer me on as I tried to bring this
project to fruition.
For permission to use several extended quotes from The Man Without
Qualities by Roben Musil. edited by Burton Pike. translated by Sophie Wilkins.
copyright 1995 by Alfred A. Knopf. loc . I wish to thank the publisher. Alfred A.
Knopf. Inc. For permission to reproduce several figures from On Growth and
Form by D'Arcy Thompson. edited by J. T. Bonner. foreword by Stephen Jay
Gould copyright 1961 by Cambridge University Press. I wish to thank the
publisher. Cambridge University Press. For help with the production of the
dissenation. my thanks go to Christopher Meadows, James Eisenman. Justin
Weisz and Sandy Weisz.

My immediate family has been my greatest source of love, strength and

suppon. For this I thank my mother. Rhoda Cahn, my sister Tracey Cahn Roth,
and I remember with love and gratitude my father, Monon S. Cahn. z'l.

CHAPTER I
ON CREATIVE IMAGINATION AND HISTORICAL CONSCIOUSNESS
During all of Schoenberg's lifetime, from the 1870s which saw the
publication of Nietzsche's The Use and Abuse of History until 1951 and Camus'
The Rebel, writers and artists struggled with questions about the nature of historical
consciousness and the effects of historical consciousness upon creative vitality.
Literary themes and characters of the time bear out the urgency and scope of these
questions. According to Hayden White in his survey of late nineteenth- to midtwentieth-century literature, the prevailing view among artists demanded the
repudiation of history for the sake of creative freedom. I Historians. like scientists both scions of the academy - were ridiculed as stultified figures, and depicted
accordingly. Writers launched their ad hominem attacks by exaggerating the

IHayden V. White, "The Burden of History," History and Theory 5 (1966):

111-34. His view explains the obsolescence of historical scholarship that occupied
an "epistemologically neutral" position halfway between the representational modes
peculiar to art and science. The halfway position allows the historian to produce a
work nearly as vivid as a novel, and almost as testable as the findings of a lab
report.

2
historian's absurdities and neuroses. These arose directly from the drudgery of
scholarly toil that was not only burdensome, but rife with pathology. White
catalogs the names of writers who advanced this archetype of the historian as a
figure totally subdued by the past. disaffected from the immediacy of his own
experiences, estranged in his relationships with others and obligated to the tasks of
maintaining the monuments ofhistory.2 Artists and writers, living in a culture
obsessed and repressed by its past, needed to defend their creative freedom from
the "burden" of excessive historical consciousness in order to direct their artistic
faculties to the representation of levels of experience and consciousness ever more
penetrating in their immediacy and inwardness.
Explicit in White is the view that history was a burden. and its renunciation
a necessity.3 On this view. history could not only stifle the artistic imagination. but
by the same token stifle the philosophical and religious imagination as well.
Overflowing its own boundaries. history -- especially positivist history - was held
largely responsible for that state of self-alienation which Rabbi Joseph B.
Soloveitchik described as the "pervasive state of mind of Western man who has
become estranged from himself, a state with which all of us as Westerners are

2Works cited by White that promulgate the historian archetype include:

Nietzsche's The Birth of Tra~y, George Eliot's Middlemarch, Ibsen's Hedda
Gabler, Gide's The Immoralist and Sartre's Nausea.
3See Carl Dahlhaus, Foundations of Music HistoQ' (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press. 1983), p. 61. Dahlhaus too conveys the pejorative
sense of historicism in music as "nothing more than the predominance of the old
over the new." adding that "this predominance is regarded as a burden."

3
acquainted".4 The problem of self-alientation introduces a dimension of the
struggle beyond the tension between tradition and innovation. illustrative of this
panicular struggle with the self-alienating effects of history are Franz Rosenzweig
(1885-1929) and Robert Musil (1880-1942). By virtue of their importance and
cultural propinquity to Schoenberg, a brief review of their struggles with history
will be instructive in defming more closely the dilemmatic way in which this
problem situation presented itself to Schoenberg.
In the summer of 1920. Franz Rosenzweig declined a university lectureship
in history offered him by his mentor the intellectual historian Friedrich Meinecke.
Awaiting the imminent publication of Der Stem der Erlosunl: (The Star of
Redemption), Rosenzweig had already switched his allegiance to philosophy and
formulated a thoroughly ahistoric approach to the understanding of Judaism.5 Selfalienation is central to Rosenzweig's explanation of his tum away from history:
"The study of history would only have served to feed my hunger for forms. my
insatiable receptivity; history to me was a purveyor of forms, no more. No wonder

I inspired horror in others as well as in myself! Amidst the shreds of my talents I

4Joseph B. Soloveitchik, The Lonely Man of Faith (New York: Bantam

Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc., 1992), p. 4.
5Alexander Altmann, "Rosenzweig on History," The Philosophy of Franz
Rosenzweil:, ed. Paul Mendes-Aohr (London: Brandeis University Press, 1988),
pp. 124-37.

4
began to search for myself, amidst the manifold for the One. "6 Rather than allow
his future to be determined by his talent for historical scholarship. Rosenzweig
chose to explore realms where his talents were untested. The obsession with pastness had to be put down and replaced with another more immediate kind of
connection.
Like Schoenberg. Rosenzweig was a product of the German-Jewish
emancipation in which the critical study of Jewish history (Wissenschaft des
Judenrums) that emerged early in the nineteenth century played a central role in
shaping the values of the Jewish subculture. Rosenzweig's affinity for the study of
history and his scholarly contribution. the dissertation Heiel und der Staat, attest to
the status Gennan philosophy and historical discourse had attained in GermanJewish circles. 7 Yet deep misgivings about meaning in history and historical
relativism exacerbated during the First World War led Rosenzweig to conceive what
he called the "new thinking" based on an ahistoric conceprualization.8 At times
Rosenzweig can be harsh when writing about the "old thinking" as represented by
the scholarly legacy of the Verein filr Cultur und Wissenschaft des Judentums
(founded in 1819). By emulating the philosophy of history of German idealism, it

6Nahum N. Glatzer, Franz Rosenzweii: His Life and Thou&ht, 2nd rev.
ed. (New York: Schocken Books, 1961), p. 95.
7See Ismar Schorsch, From Text to Context: The Tum to HistOlY in
Modern Judaism (London: Brandeis University Press. 1994), pp. 155-6.
8Reiner Wiehl, "Experience in Rosenzweig's New Thinking," ~
Philosophy of Franz Rosenzwei&. ed. Paul Mendes-Flohr (London: Brandeis
University Press. 1988), pp. 42-68.

5
appeared to Rosenzweig nearly a century later that the scholarship based on
Wissenschaft des JUdentums9 was ultimately neither fish nor fowl:
Since the time of [Moses1 Mendelssohn and [Leopold1 Zunz our
Jewish learning no longer has the courage to be itself, but instead
runs at a respectful distance behind the learning of the
others... What the sparrows chirp from the rooftops of intellectual
Gennany, still seems terrible heresy to us. Leaving the old ghetto,
we have very quickly locked ourselves up in a new one. Only this
time we do not want to admit it to ourselves. And this time we
occupy ourselves with a learning that is just as little Gennan and just
as little Jewish as -- well. as. for example. the 'Gennan' surnames
our grandfathers adopted in the first dizziness of emancipation. 10
Rosenzweig forthrightly declares the Jewish adaptation of Wissenschaft moribund.
By 1934. Schoenberg had reached the same conclusion. and calls for a break with
German learning and custom. I I Schoenberg and Rosenzweig. contemporaries
shaped by the exigencies of the German-Jewish subculture. both had to contend
with the burden of history as a dilemma: the price of emancipation and citizenship rights in exchange for cultural attainments -- meant shouldering the burden of
history. while the price of creative freedom meant shrugging off the burden of

9See Ismar Schorsch. "Breakthrough into the Past: The Verein filr Cultur
und Wissenschaft der Juden," From Text to Context: The Tum to HistOIY in
Modem Judaism (London: Brandeis University Press, 1994), pp. 205-32.
IONahum N. Glatzer, Franz Rosenzwei~, p. 217-18. Cf. Schorsch, From
Text to Context, p. 156. Schorsch rejects the archetype of the historians as
"...schoolmen insulated from the dilemmas of life ... ," to acknowledge them as
"men who understood the challenges posed by their time."
I I Arnold Schoenberg. "Jeder jun~e
Schoenber~ Institute 17 (1994): 455.

Jude" (1934). Journal of the Arnold

6
history.l2 Ono Poggeler suggests that much as Rosenzweig insists on a complete
break with German idealism. Rosenzweig's confrontation with Hegel was
nevertheless instrumental for his development. 13 How Schoenberg coped with this
dilemma and with the tensions that arose among his artistic. religious and historical
impulses is manifestly complex; each chapter in this study will be devoted to a
particular aspect of it. To further refine our sense of Schoenberg's confrontation
with this dilemma. we shall first consider Robert Musil's thought on the themes of
history and self-alienation.
Robert Musil appears on the list of writers Hayden White compiled who
tried to shrug off the burden of history. In the eyes of Viennese society.
Schoenberg and Musil occupied the same boat. Elias Canetti singles out
Schoenberg and Musil as "creative artists whom it was meritorious to stand up for,
because it brought no advantage but, if anything. trouble."14
Schoenberg moved to the small town of Modling bei \Vien in 1918. and
Musil moved there the following year. Musil and his wife had rooms in what was
otherwise a convalescent home owned by the philanthropist and educator Frau Dr.

12David Sorkin. The Transformation of German Jewa' 1780-1840 (Oxford:

Oxford University Press. 1987). pp. 94-99.
[30tto poggeler. "Between Enlightenment and Romanticism: Rosenzweig
and Hegel," The Philosophy of Franz Rosenzwei~. ed. Paul Mendes-Aohr
(London: Brandeis University Press. 1988). pp. 107-23.
[4Elias Canetti. The Play of the Eyes, trans. Ralph Manheim (New York:
Farrar. Straus. Giroux. 1986), p. 196.

Eugenie Nussbaum Schwarzwald (1874-1940).15 Schoenberg, Webem and Berg

were each at one time or another lecturers at Frau Dr. Schwarzwald's schools. Her
salon -- designed by Schoenberg's friend and ally the architect Adolf Loos - was
visited by great artists and intellectuals. In his autobiography, Canetti recalls the
mystique of the Schwarzwald salon:
The smallish room in which visitors were received was even
more legendary than Frau Dr. Schwarzwald, because it would be
hard to think of a celebrity who had not been there at one time or
another. Vienna's truly great had sat there long before they gained
general recognition. Adolf Loos had come and brought young
Kokoschka with him; so had Schonberg, Karl Kraus, Musil and any
number of others. 16
The setting of the Schwarzwald salon places Schoenberg and Musil within the same
sympathetically minded social circle for a time. Musil critic and biographer Karl
Corino writes:
From the end of World War I until his emigration in 1938. Musil
frequented the household of Eugenie Schwarzwald, which served as
the model for the Tuzzi's alias Diotima's salon. As with Alma
Mahler-Werfel and Bertha Szeps-Zuckerkandl, the great intellectuals
of Vienna were her guests: Adolf Loos, Kokoschka. Arnold
Schoenberg, Egon FriedeU are a sampling of the names in her circle.

ISLowell Bangerter, Robert Musil (New York: The Continuum Publishing

Co., 1988), p. 15.
16Elias Canetti, The Play of the Eyes, trans. Ralph Manheim (New York:
Farrar Straus Giroux, 1986), p. 187.

8
Word of a contact with Rathenau alias Amheim has not been passed
down.17 (My translation.)
With both Schoenberg and Musil living in the same small town, both active in
Vienna and Berlin even if at different times, and socializing in the same intellectual
and artistic circle, one becomes even hungrier for some record of their
acquaintance. A diary entry of Musil's from 2 February 1930 mentions
Schoenberg:
Yesterday or the day before a small item in the
Tag von Juvenal for the sixtieth birthday of
[psychologist Dr. Alfred] Adler. The treatment of
Freud. Adler and Schoenberg in their own
homeland! 18 (My translation.)
This entry conveys a touch of Musil's touchiness. Canetti refers again and again to
Musil's "touchiness" over his professional status. a trait he shared with
Schoenberg. But. as this entry shows. Musil was not only touchy on his own
behalf. he could be outraged on behalf of others suffering under philistine treatment
both as intellectuals and as Jews. Musil's acquaintance with the names Freud.
Adler and Schoenberg was a longstanding one. Though the entry is brief. it speaks
volumes about Musil's utmost gravity and utmost foreboding. Most striking of all.
Musil avers that Jews in Austria are in "their own homeland (Heimat)." It is a biner

17Karl Corino, Musil (Rowohlt Verlag GmbH. 1988), p. 366. Paul

Amheim is Musil's fictional character for Walter Rathenau, the Jewish businessmanphilosopher-diplomat, who was assassinated in 1922. Rathenau was not in this
circle. but had a wide readership after World War I which included Schoenberg.
Rathenau and Musil met in 1914 at the War Ministry.
18Robert MUsil. Tagebticher Band II, ed. Adolf Frise (Reinbek bei
Hamburg: Rowohlt GmbH. 1976), p. 697.

comment on the alienating treatment Jews received. One is immediately ll:minded

of Mahler's often quoted remark that he was "three times without a homeland, as an
Austrian among Germans, as a Bohemian among Austrians, and as a Jew allover
the world." Musil protests this condition in the names of Freud, Adler, and
Schoenberg.
Towards evincing an affinity between Musil and Schoenberg, Carl
Schorske has ascribed a common purpose to Schoenberg's and Musil's work, that
purpose being, and Schorske quotes Musil, "to find 'what differentiates a worldview GYeltanschaaung] from a true view of the world.'" 19 The chiasmus creates a
rift between the ideologically laden implications of the former, and the view of the
latter which insists upon an immediate unrefracted engagement with the world.
Though Musil was not an influence on Schoenberg, reading Schoenberg and Musil
together is a potent combination.
A shon diary note from Roben Musil indicates an earlier inspiration than
Nietzsche's not mentioned by White that articulates the anti-historical attitude.
Explaining why he loves the Wiener Rundschau so, Musil writes:
-Sie haben die konigliche Freiheit der Phantasie - nach Emerson.Ihre Autoren sind oft mediocre Menschen, aber von einer

19Carl E. Schorske, Fin-De-Siecle Vienna: Politics and Culture (New

York: Vintage Books, 1981), p. 359. Schorske quotes, Robert Musil, "
Aufzeichnungen eines Schriftstellers," Gesammelte Werke (Reinbek bei Hamburg,
1978), VII, 919-920.

10
sympathischen Besessenheit. 20
[ -They have the princely freedom of imagination -like
Emerson.Their authors are often mediocre men, but of a sympathetic
madness.] (My translation.)
It seems that Musil not only follows in the spirit. but complements Emerson who
himself bewailed the "meek young men" of his day for a lack of imagination:
Meek young men grow up in libraries. believing it their duty to
accept the views which Cicero. which Locke. which Bacon, have
given. forgetful that Cicero, Locke, and Bacon were only young
men in libraries when they wrote these books.:!1
Emerson, a writer valued by Musil's protagonist Ulrich, condemns such a heavily
mediated enterprise. seeking instead an immediate experience of world and
universe. Perhaps a kind of madness, or of freedom found only in aristocratic
circles, could overcome the burden of history if it encouraged a capacity for
immediate experience as the key to the vitality of creative life. In Emerson's time
and place. the obstacle and burden amounted to layers of theological tradition. By
Musil's and Schoenberg's time ~he context had become more complex. I quote
Musil at length because I take this passage to be Musil's analysis of the problem
with history and science, that they try to alienate the person from his or her own
experience:

20Robert MUsil. Ta&ebiicher Band I, ed. Adof Fris6 (Reinbek bei Hamburg:
Rowohlt. 1976). p. 16.
21Ralph Waldo Emerson. "The American Scholar: An Oration Delivered
Before the Phi beta Kappa Society. at Cambridge. August 31. 1837." in Collected
Works (Cambridge: Belknap Press. 1971). 1:56.

II
But today responsibility's center of gravity is not in people but in
circumstances. Have we not noticed that experiences have made
themselves independent of people? They have gone on the stage,
into books, into the reports of research institutes and explorers, into
ideological or religious communities, which foster certain kinds of
experience at the expense of others as if they are conducting a kind
of social experiment, and insofar as experiences are not actually
being developed, they are simply left dangling in the air. Who can
say nowadays that his anger is really his own anger when so many
people talk about it and claim to know more about it than he does?
A world of qualities without a man has arisen, of experiences
without the person who experiences them, and it almost looks as
thouih ideally private experience is a thini of the past. and that the
friendly burden of personal responsibility is to dissolve into a
system of formulas of possible meaninss ... [T]he belief that the most
imponant thing about experience is the experiencing, or of action the
doing, is beginning to strike most people as nalve.22 (Emphasis
added.)
For both Musil and Rosenzweig, responsibility's center of gravity lies in
individuals. In complementary fashion, Musil assigns the loss of personal
experience and personal responsibility to the social sciences' capacity to generalize,
while Rosenzweig assigns it to the tradition of idealism, "because thinking in which
the One creates itself as the All must eliminate the distinctive Self within its own
distinctive origin, and that in effect eliminates responsibility."2J On this view,
neither mechanical successions of circumstances nor the unfolding of Hegelian
dialectics constitutes historical time. Individuals experience time personally through
their response to others. This is the empirical basis on which Musil and

22Roben Musil, The Man Without Qualities, ed. Burton Pike, trans. Sophie
Wilkins (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1995), pp. 158-9.
23Bernhard Casper, "Responsibility Rescued," The Philosophy of Franz
Rosenzweii, ed. Paul Mendes-Flohr (London: Brandeis University Press, 1988),

p.90.

12
Rosenzweig link personal experience and personal responsibility)4 It is the
craving to respond which. as an elemental impulse of human consciousness.
Schoenberg's music gives expression. With respect to the problem of historical
consciousness. one of Schoenberg's responses was to reject excessive forms of
historical thought that were used directly against him in order to exclude or discredit
his work. Though prevalent in White's study. the choice of repudiation is still only
one response to a question permitting more possibilities. Schoenberg's works and
writings reveal several more possible responses to the struggle between creative
imagination -- what Schoenberg called "phantasy" -- and historical consciousness.
Composers of Schoenberg's school did not try ovenly to obliterate their
capacity for historical consciousness. though some implacable opponents of
Schoenberg felt this was exactly what they were trying to do. Nor did these
composers exercise a historically conscious mode of thought in the same
burdensome way as did the historical scholars whom the writers of that time
mocked and repudiated so completely. In contrast to the writers who reject
historical consciousness altogether, Schoenberg's response is multifaceted. The
general problem we will address with respect to Arnold Schoenberg then is this:
How does the creative mist's imagination co-exist with his or her historical
consciousness? My aim is to bring forward for consideration four possible
relationships between creative imagination and historical consciousness, and to use
them in tum as lenses with which to focus on the varied ways these two faculties go

24Ibid . p. 102.

13

together in Schoenberg's writings and music: (1) that creative imagination and
historical consciousness are antipathetic. and that any ostensible preoccupation with
history was meant to show that one could be aware of the past and still create
freely. (2) that historical consciousness is a source for artistic creativity. (3) that the
artistic imagination is no less a source for historical consciousness. and (4) that the
two are dynamically interactive. Through our discussion of Hayden White. Franz
Rosenzweig and Robert Musil, we have already begun to explore the first
possibility (chapter one), that there is antipathy between the two. The second
possibility (chapter two) concerns firsthand observations from Karl Popper of an
ideological historicism rampant in the Schoenberg Circle. Popper took this as a
continuation of Wagnerism based on Hegel which manifested itself in the necessity
to be artistically ahead of everyone else, and in an obsession with self observation.
The discussion of our third possibility (chapter three) is informed by Hayden
White's study of historical imagination, Metahistorv. Here we are interested in the
features of the narratives Schoenberg weaves with respect to White's categories:
mode of emplotment. mode of argument and mode of ideological implication. At
times Schoenberg's writings stress continuity in order to form a context of
justification. while at other times the writings emphasize discontinuities indicating
the unforeseeable turns of creative processes. The ftrst three possibilities are
consequences of both dealing in and defending oneself to the world.
The fourth possibility of dynamic interaction (chapter four) is not to be
understood as simply the sum of the second and third possibilities. It is ftrst of all
an investigation of the ways in which art and history have common ground

14

especially with respect to their understanding of memory and time. Schoenberg's

most basic conceptions of the manifold nature of time and of musical sensation
explore multifariously what it is like to experience time in particular ways. In the
way one experiences time and struggles to achieve some heightened awareness of
one's situatedness in time, that is where historical consciousness and the impetus to
formulate a philosophy of history lies (chapter five).

On the Non-Interaction of Historical Consciousness and Creative

Ima~ination

Nietzsche categorizes three tendencies characteristic of historical

consciousness and argues that each of these tendencies when followed to excess
can disable the vitality of creative life. After an exposition of Nietzsche's categories
we will turn to Schoenberg's writings. In comparing Nietzsche's categori~s with
Schoenberg's writings, we shall consider the thesis that the analogous use of these
categories by Schoenberg indicates a shared view of the excesses of historical
consciousness as an impediment to creativity. And using the Nietzschean
categories as he does, Schoenberg is participating in a literary tradition which not
only sees historians as enemies of creativity, but one that challenges the sufficiency
of history alone to contend with the all-encompassing crisis of temporal existence.
The first of Nietzsche's categories is "monumental history". According to
this view, the historian conceives of an era as completely self-contained and unified
in itself. In excess, monumental history yields a catalog of isolated effects without
regard for causes. There is no interest in the constellation of events leading to the
prized era and no possibility for its continuation. In awe of the predeceased, the

15

historian cannot but regard creativity in the present as enfeebled. Inherent then in
monumental history is this jaundiced view of the present:
Monumental history is the cloak under which their hatred of
present power and greatness masquerades as an extreme admiration
of the past. The real meaning of this way of viewing history is
disguised as its opposite; whether they wish it or no. they are acting
as though their motto were: "Let the dead bury the living."25
A healthy monumentalism does the opposite, it serves the living who gain mastery
over the past assuring the survival of both. But monumentalist historiography does
not permit such an integration.
Hayden White associates Monumental history with the poetic trope
metonymy. Metonymy in White's sense isolates parts and their apartness from
wholes. making this trope reductionist For example. a Disney record of the 1960s
titled "The Great Composers" contained musical biographies of eight composers.
The historiography of this album was clearly monumentalist. reducing all of" great
musical" culture to the work of eight individual men. preceded by no one and
followed by no one. The eight bands of the long-playing record insured the
contiguity of the historiography. i.e. the absence of relationship among composers
with each other or with the world. That the achievements of these composers are
works the world can cherish is inspiring, but the message that such greatness is no
longer within reach is discouraging and ultimately destructive.
"Antiquarian" history is characterized by a humble and reverential attitude
toward the past and one's national origins and traditions. Antiquarianism preserves

25Friedrich Nietzsche, The Use and Abuse of History, trans. Adrian Collins
(New York: The Bobbs-Merrill Co . Inc., 1957), p. 17.

16

the past seeking continuity with the present and future. This mode of history uses
the trope synecdoche. As Hayden White points out. antiquarianism emphasizes
continuity rather than contiguity, and takes for its principal subject tree-like growth
rather than change:
The feeling of the tree that clings to its roots, the happiness of
knowing one's growth to be not merely arbitrary and fortuitous but
the inheritance, the fruit and blossom, of a past that does not merely
justify but crowns the present-this is what we nowadays prefer to
call the real historical sense.26
But a lack of critical judgment and an inability to look forward to the future
undermines the sense of reverence Nietzsche found praiseworthy in a moderate
antiquarianism. In excess, it is as if a preservation society were to confer landmark
status upon a 10ng-condemned building, so as not to lose a historical relic of
authentic dilapidation.
Two examples White puts forth of antiquarian excess in literature are Mr.
Casaubon of George Eliot's Middlemarch (1871-72) and George Tesman of
Ibsen's Hedda Gabler (1890). The antagonists in these works are both historians.
Eliot's Mr. Casaubon was engaged in a study of religious systems of the world.
and Ibsen's George Tesman studied the domestic industries of Brabant in the
Middle Ages. White sees the Casaubon and Tesman characters as two of a kind.
Both are ascetics who negate the present by expending their life energies in
subservience to the past. They seek in the past, that which has come to rest in the
past. that which has no vital interest for the present. They are in a more desperate

26Nietzsche. The Use and Abuse of History, p. 19.

17

situation than the denizens of Plato's cave, because Casaubon and Tesman do not
even see the shadows, they merely quibble about what to make of the reports of
those who did; neither is a man of imagination. And in contrast to the like-minded
Casaubon's and Tesman's of literature, Ibsen offers Eilert LOvborg, a philosopher
of history, whose extensive historical vision is comparable to that of "Vico, Herder
and Hegel. "27 During his first appearance at the Tesman home, Lovborg reveals to
Tesman that he has completed the manuscript for a new book. His currently
successful but bland history. much admired by Tesman. is one from which
Lovborg already feels estranged, whereas the new book is the one he has spoken
with his "own voice." As far as Tesman is concerned, there was one obvious fact
that could not be ignored, and so he obliged himself to point it out:
TESMAN:
..
LOVBORG:
TESMAN:

But my dear Eilert, that [Lovborg's current book]

covers the subject right up to the present day.
It does. But this [the sequel] is about the future.
The future! But, I say, we don't know anything about
that.:!8

In Tesman's view, Lovborg's tum to the speculative is an attempt to derive

philosophy from history like an alchemist's attempt to derive gold from lead.
Casaubon and Tesman are men who breathe the fetid air of that which is dead in the
past; they are unable to distinguish what from the past survives and contributes to
the vitality of life, and what must be discarded. Casaubon and Tesman try to

27Peter Munz, The Shapes of Time (Middletown, Cf: Wesleyan University

Press, 1977), p. 11.
28Henrik Ibsen. Hedda Gabler, trans. Michael Meyer (New York:
Doubleday and Co .. 1961), act 2, sc. I.

18
preserve all. and through this effort are drawn out of the direct experience of the
present. Their approach is unselective and uncritical.
Critical history, the third of Nietzsche's categories, judges and condemns
the errors and sins of the past. Judgment detennines what from the past may
survive. Selection rather than preservation is the imperative. But the sins and
errors of the past are also a burden, especially upon a society whose fabric is no
more than the consequences of so many lapses of judgment and evil inclinations.
White assigns critical history to the mode of irony. The trick is to "plant a new way
of life. a new instinct. a second nature, that withers the first" in the wake of a
negated real past.:!9 Artistic vision. not history, is the key to an emergent second
nature. Without artistic vision, everything withers; history becomes largely the
story of decline.
What follows are three case studies which take as their material selected
writings of Schoenberg and Schenker, Schoenberg and Riemann and Schoenberg
and Spengler in which the views of the artist and the historian come into dispute.
The historical perspectives Schenker, Riemann and Spengler fall respectively into
the categories of Monumental, Antiquarian and Critical history. Schoenberg
recognizes these distinctions and answers each in kind. Schoenberg's essays on
Schenker, Riemann and Spengler all date from the summer of 1923 spent at
Traunkirchen, the birthplace of the twelve-tone method. But we shall include

29Nietzsche. The Use and Abuse of History, p. 21.

19
writings from the Schenker-Schoenberg polemic that span from the early 1910s to
the late 1930s.
Schenker and Monumental History. From the standpoint of philosophy of
history, the Schoenberg-Schenker polemic perpetuated itself over the controversy
of the monumentalist approach to history. Schenker in his efforts to disclose the
compositional achievements of the classical masters set forth a theory of the musical
composition based on triadic tonality, voice leading and diminution. But in
reviewing the documents of the polemic, we can see that Schoenberg underscored
those claims of Schenker's that stung Schoenberg like nettles. Aspects of the
Schoenberg-Schenker have been discussed notably by Carl Dahlhaus and Jonathan
Dunsby.30 Additional documents have been transcribed, translated and discussed
by Bryan Simms) I These discussions have concentrated on music-theoretical
issues. In our attempt to throw light on the relationship between creativity and
historical consciousness, we shall focus on Schoenberg's response to the
monumentalist viewpoint he found pervasive in Schenker's writing.
The last word in the Schoenberg-Schenker polemic belonged to
Schoenberg. On April 22, 1939, settled in Brentwood, some remarks of
Schenker's crossed Schoenberg's desk provoking one final burst of writing, bitter

30See Carl Dahlhaus, "Schoenberg and Schenker," Proceedin&s of the

Royal Musical Association 100 (1973-74): 209-15; see also Jonathan M. Dunsby,
"Schoenberg and the Writings of Schenker," Journal of the Arnold SchoenberK
Institute 2 (1977): 26-33.
31Bryan R. Simms, "New Documents in the Schoenberg-Schenker
Polemic," Perspectives of New Music 16 (1977): 110-24.

20
and repentant in tone. Schenker's remarks written nearly twenty-five years earlier
occur in a footnote to the commentary in his edition of Beethoven's Piano Sonata
Opus 111, an edition Schoenberg owned32 An article by Schoenberg entitled
"Why New Melodies Are Difficult to Understand" as well as the Hannonielehre
earn Schenker's rebuke. Schoenberg wrote the article to which Schenker refers in
1913. In a nutshell, Schoenberg explains that repetition is not a basic principle in
the construction of new melodies. They do not proceed gradually from simpler to
more complexly varied forms. nor do they make much use of transitional material in
the preparation of each new variation. New melodies are subject to development at
all stages. at a more or less rapid pace and with abrupt shifts in the flow of the
material. Affinities between a basic motive and varied forms need to be grasped
without the listener's reliance on repetitiousness as a crutch for comprehension.
Schoenberg's short article reads as follows:
Warum neue Melodien schwerverstiindlich sind
Jede Melodie kommt durch Wiederholung eines mehr oder
weniger variierten Grundmotivs zustande. Je primitiver, je
kunstloser sie ist. desto geringer ist die Variation, desto zahlreicher
sind die Wiederholungen. Je niedriger die Anspriiche sind, die man
an das Fassungsvermogen stellen darf, je rascher das Tempo der
Wiederholungen, desto niedriger muss die innere Organisation sein.
Da nun jede wirklich neue Melodie die schon vorhandenen niederen
Organismen a1s Voraussetzung fUr ihre Neuheit zu behandeln hat.
verarbeitet sie entweder wenig neue Grundmotive in weniger oder
kunstvolleren Variationen. entwickelt sich also rascher. oder aber
ganz neue Motive, die sie eventuell in vielen Variationen langsam
entwickelt. Es kann nicht im Interesse der Kunst liegen,
32Die Letzten Fiinf Sonaten von Beethoven: Kritische Ausiabe mit
Einfiihrung und Erlauteruni von Heinrich Schenker (Wien: Universal Edition
Aktiensgesellshaft, 1916), p. 94.

21

systematisch vorzugehen, d.h. stets erst das gerade noch zulassige

einfachste Motiv auf die noch zuIassige breiteste Weise darzustellen
und sich erst dann neuen Motiven oder rascheren
Entwicklungsfonnen zuzuwenden. wenn alles Einfachere erIedigt
ist. Sie begniigt sich mit den typischen Fiillen. iiberIasst den Rest
dem Kitsch und dem Gassenhauer, iiberspringt einige Punkte der
Reihe und stellt neben die alten scbeinbar unvermittelt die neuen
Fonnen. Deren Merkmale sind dann. imIner im VerhaItnis zum
Vorhergenden, folgende: Bekanntes wird als bekannt vorausgesetzt
und daher nicht mehr erwabnt; die Eigentiimlichkeiten des Neuen
bedingen neue Formen der Variation (auch deren Methoden niitzen
sich ab); dem Bediirfniss, der Affinitiit der zusammenhangbildenen
Elemente ein sichtbares und langsam verfolgbares Abbild zu
verleihen wird weniger nachgegeben: man verHisst sich darauf, dass
ein empfindener Zusammenhang haIt. auch wenn die Methoden der
Verbindung nicht mitkomponiert werden; man spart Raum und
driickt nicht mit zehn Worten aus, was mit zweien gesagt werden
kann.
SoIche "Kurze" ist unbequem fUr den der behaglich geniessen
will. Aber warum sollten gerade die Recht behalten. die zu langsam
denken?33 Arnold Schonberg Berlin Siidende 101X. 1913
[Why New Melodies are Difficult to Understand]
[Every melody comes about through the repetition of a more or
less varied basic motive. The more primitive and artless the melody.
the less variation and the more repetition it contains. The lower the
demands as to the capacity for perception. the quicker the tempo of
repetition are. the simpler the organization must be. Now. since
every truly new melody has to treat its existing lower organisms as a
prerequisite for its newness, that melody will either work out a small
number of new basic motives in fewer or more artistic variations thus, developing more quickly, or it will incorporate entirely new
motives, which it may develop gradually in many variations. It
cannot be in the interest of art to proceed systematically -- i.e .
always using the barely admissible simplest motive, to be presented

33From a handwritten copy transcribed by Bryan Simms. (Archives of the

Arnold Schoenberg Institute.) According to the editors of the Be[~-Schoenber~
Correspondence, Schoenberg's "Warum modeme Melodien so schwer verstiindlich
sind" appeared in Die Konzertwoche (1 October 1913). n.p. [3-4], a publication of
the Konzerthaus. This is confusing because the titles are not identical and the
published article is dated nine days earlier than the handwritten version presented
here. Schenker must have seen "Warum neue Melodien ... " though I do not know
the circumstances.

22
in the admissibly broadest fashion, and to tum to new motives or
more rapid forms of development only when all simpler matter have
been taken care of. Art is satisfied with the more characteristic
cases, leaving the rest for kitsch and popular songs. It skips over
several points in succession, placing new forms, seemingly
unprepared, next to old ones. Their features, always related to
previous instances will be as follows: familiar elements are assumed
to be known and therefore will not be mentioned again; peculiarities
of new material bring about new forms of variation, (whose
methods will in tum wear out); less leeway is given to the desire to
project onto the affinity of coherence-building elements a visible,
gradually perceptible image: one relies on the idea. that a "felt"
cohesion exists, even if the method of connection is not explicitly
composed out. It saves space and does not employ ten words to
express what can be said in two.
Such conciseness is unpleasant for those who want to sit back
and enjoy. But why should those be right who think too slowly?]34
The red flag for Schenker in this essay is the word Wiederholun&. repetition.
Repetition is a concept that lies at the heart of Schenker's theory. To Schenker this
article must have read like a recipe for chaos. Without a basic contrapuntal motion
at the background level. variations will lack coherence to the theme. and without the
ongoing application of diminution in the development of a theme, the theme itself
will lack coherence. But Schoenberg has quite a different notion in mind that we
shall come to in a later chapter. To use the analogy Schoenberg himself made,
working with a motive was like the art of caricature. Be that as it may, the battle
Schenker wages is not over particulars, but over the question of authenticity: who
fathoms the art of the masters and who does not? Paul Bekker, the critic and

34Arnold Schoenberg, "Why New Melodies Are Difficult to Understand,"

trans. Daniela Bartha. Theory and Practice 18 (1993): 7. See also Bryan R.
Simms. "New Documents in the Schoenberg-Schenker Polemic," Perspectives of
New Music 16 (1977): 115-16.

23
historian is the main target of Schenker's harangue, but Schenker then shifts his
sights against Schoenberg with whom Bekker was associated. Schoenberg drew a
box around the part of Schenker's diatribe directed against him. Schenker never
mentions Schoenberg by name, but of course he does not have to. Schoenberg
underlined the nub of Schenker's polemic, which is underlined below:
Da weiB ich z.B. noch einen anderen Geisteshelden von heute,
der kiirzIich in einem kIeinen, etwa 30 Zeilen umfassenden SatzeKonglomerat (unter dem Titel "Warum neue Melodien schwer
verstandlich sind") gegen Hauptprinzip der Musik, gegen die
Wiederhoung zu Felde zog. (Schoenberg's emphasis)
[Then I know, for example, yet another spiritual hero of today
who briefly in a short hodgepodge of about thirty lines (under the
title "Why New Melodies Are Difficult To Understand") wages
battle against the first principle of music, against repetition.]
(Schoenberg's emphasis, my translation)
Schenker makes it quite clear that by waging war against the principle of repetition,
one is necessarily waging war against the Masters. Schenker's note continues
below:
Welch ein widrig-trauriges Bild bot doch auch diese Skizze! Da
flegelr nun einer. der aus unsaglich jammerlicher Unfahigkeit die
Wiederholungen in den Werken unserer Meister noch gar nicht
einmal erkannt hat. ohneweiters all diejenigen an. die in die Tiefe
seines Unsinns nicht allzu rasch mit ibm sinken wollen oder
kannen. 0, kannte ich doch diesen Don Quixote
unauskomponierter Klange. auch all seine Genossen und die
Hermeneuten und Historiker dazu, auf ein Podium, ein einziges.
groBes zitieren. urn ihnen allen vor einem zahlenden Publikum ins
Gesicht nachzuweisen. daB sie unter Tonika, Dominante.
vermindertem Septimakkord. unter Wiederholungen ja nur das
verstehen. was sie selbst kennen und kannen, und daB sie somit -welch beiBende Ironie! - sichja nur ins eigene Reisch schneiden,
wenn sie mit so viel Indianergeheul die lediglich Dur ihrer eigenen
Vorstellung entnomrnenen primitiven Dreildangs-,
VierkIangsbildungen und lappischen Wiederholungen bekampfen!
Wer aber schafft ihnen denn soIche Begriffe. soIche Praxis. wenn

24

nicht wieder nur eben sie selbst? Warum (iben sie Rache fUr die
Niedrigkeit ihres eigenen Ohres und Kunstverstandes gerade nur an
den Meistern. warum beschmutzen sie just deren unnachahmlich
stolze Werke mit Begriffs-Fakalien. die mit diesen nichts zu tun
haben? Unsere Meister schrieben wahrlich anders ihre Harmonien.
ihre Wiederbolungen. und lahrhunderte lang m(i8tenjene Knirpse
auf der Erde noch wandeln. bevor sie auch nur hoffen dUrften. die
Praxis unserer Meister endlich wahrzunehmen! Und in solcher
Geistesverfassung glauben dieselben Knirpse aber auch schon die
,.zukunft' der Musik selbst bringen oder fordern zu kannen! Was
wissen denn ungeborene Kinder schon vom Leben. das ihnen
vielleicht niemals beschieden sein wird. was wissen so auch von
einem ,.Fortschritt" solche Musiker. die doch ebenfalls erst noch
ungeborenen Kindem gleichzustellen sind! Magen sie nur immerhin
nach Handlerbrauch mit sogenannter ,,ModemiUit" Geschafte
machen -, unseren Meistem aber sollten sie ihre Modemitat der
Ewigkeit doch endlich unbehelligt lassen!35
[What an adverse-gloomy picture offered by this sketch! There now
pleads one, who through unspeakable lamentable incompetence had
known nothing at all of the repetition in the works of our masters, to
all the others who want to or are able to sink into the depth of his
nonsense in all too much of a hurry. Oh, could I but battle this Don
Quixote of uncomposed out chords. also summon all his comrades
and the hermeneuts and historians besides. at a single great podium
in order to prove to them all in a public reckoning, that under tonic.
dominant, diminished seventh, under repetition they understand
only what they themselves know and are capable of and that they
thus -- what bitter irony! - cut purely from their own flesh. like
howling Indians. their own conception of three and four note chords
and foolish repetition. Who creates such concepts. such practice, if
not only they among themselves? Why do they practice revenge
against the masters for the crudeness of their own ears and artistic
understanding. why do they besmirch those matchless proud works
with shitty ideas which have nothing to do with them? Our masters
actually wrote their harmonies. their repetitions. and centuries
elapsed before every pygmy of the earth may hope fmally to be able
to perceive the practice of our masters! And in such spiritual
condition the pygmies believe that they themselves are able to bring
about or further the future of music! What do unborn children know

35Heinrich Schenker. ed., Die Letzten Ftinf Sonaten von Beethoven:

Kritische Auseabe mit Einfiibrune und ErHiuterune von Heinrich Schenker (Wien:
Universal Edition Aktiensgesellshaft. 1916). p. 94.

25
of life. that may never be granted to them. what do such musicians
know of "progress". who are on equal footing with unborn
children. They only like to make useful deals like so-called modem
businesses -. they should leave our masters alone, to remain finally
and forever unmolested from their modemity!]36
The kind of argument Schenker makes recalls Jonathan Swift's account of the battle
between the ancient and modem books)7 In that essay, a debate between a spider
and bee becomes an allegory for the relationship of ancients to moderns as Swift
has /Esop interpret it. What the spider creates is wholly out of himself. a web of
"dirt" spun out of the spider's entrails to lie in darkness attracting vermin. whereas
the bee roams through all of nature making honey and wax. sweetness and light.
Like Swift's bee, Schenker sees the modems as lacking reverence for history and
extracting their conceptions of music purely out of themselves. (Swift's tone in this
argument has great wit: Schenker'S is strident and offensive.) Schenker would
deny creative activity to anyone who had not mastered the masters in the same way
as he himself had. This is a symptom of Monumentalism in crude excess. One
infers. as does Schoenberg. that Schenker condemns Schoenberg's Hannonielehre
as baseless and the major offense in question.
Das ist Schenker'S Antwort auf einige Bemerkungen in meiner
Hannonielehre tiber ihn. Sie kommt mir erst heute (April 1939) zu
Gesicht, zu einer Zeit, wo ich, nicht ohne eine gewisse Rtihrung des
seit einiger Zeit Verstorbenen gedenke, dessen Personlichkeit und
Aufrichtigkeit ich stets geachtet habe. Ieh habe das auch in meiner
36Cf. Bryan R. Simms, "New Documents in the Schoenberg-Schenker
Polemic." Perspectives of New Music 16 (1977): 113-14.
37Jonathan Swift, "A Full and True Account of the Battle Fought Last
Friday Between the Ancient And The Modem Books In Saint James's Library".
Swift's Essays (New York: Garland, reprint ed .. 1972), pp. 151-5.

26

Hannonielehre rum Ausdruek gebracht und gJaube seinen

Verdiensten Dieht obne Verstiindnis und Gerechtigkeit gegentiber
gestanden zu seine Beides aber, Verstiindnis und Gerechtigkeit,
zwang mieh aueh die Grenze zu erkennen, bis zu weleher Sehenker
vorzudringen fcihig war.
VieUeieht war ieh Dieht gezwungen einen Teil meiner Polemik in
einer Fonn zu aussem die ieh heute schon deshalb bedauere, weil
sie we selben Tonfall erfoJgte - im seinem - gegen den ieh mieh
eben dort satirisch wandte. Dieser Tonfall ist mem als Echo; er ist
Reaktion, harte aber vieUeieht Dieht unverdiente Zuriehtigung fUr
den Ton ibn dem er von aller Musik sprieht, die nach Brahms
komponiere wurde -- insbesondere tiber die von Max Reger. Man
lese, was er tiber diesen wie ieh glaube bedeutenden Komponisten
in seinen Musikalisehen Phantasiemde sagt. Ieh will meine
Reaktion gewiss nieht entsehuldigen sondem bekenne, dass ieh es
bedauere. dass ieh mieh in einen personliehen Angriff hinrreisen
Iiess wenn ich (Seite 490, Zeile 304 ff) davon sprach. dass Kritik
die Sterilitat in Naehahmung schopferiseher Alliiren "gegen" die
Produktivitat aufmarsehieren" lasse und dass ich der Versuehung
niehl widerstehen konnte, das, auf personlichen Errinerungen
beruhende Bild des exaltierten sehreienden, geifemden Mannes
darzustellen. dec mit liberschlagendec Stimme" - nieht seine [deen
ausdruekt das ware ja fast zulassig, sondem, besehimpfende
Angriffe gegen solche riehtet, die etwas kennen, von dessen
Existenz er keine Vorstellung hat: ein neues Bild dec musikalischen
Kunst.
So bedauerlieh dieser mein Angriff aueh sein mag, und so wenig
ieh seiner Tonfall entsehuldigen will, so wird man mir, als den
Angegriffenen, der ieh von jeher war, doch Dieht das Reeht der
"Wahl der Waffen" bestreiten diirfen mit hOchstens bedauem, das
ieh solche wie die seinigen benlitzt habe. Vnd man wird weiters
zugeben dtirfen, dass er als Nieht-Angegriffener solche hasslieher
Ausfalle hane ruhig unterlassen diirfen, dass zur Darstellung der
Komponierkunst der alten Meister die je nieht angegriffen war, das
tiberschlagen der Stimme nieh erforderlich war, und das Ehec meine
Stimme in der Hitze der erzwungenen Verteidigung auf eine sole he
Weise hane versagen dtirfen.
Der kleine Artikel, heisst wie Sehenker riehtig sagt (aber Dieht
zur erkenntnis nimmt) "Warum neue Melodien schwer Verstiindlieh
sind." Bis auf eine KIeinigkeit (das ich damals noch von? neuen
Motiven" spraeh, wo ich seit her an das vorhandensein - bloss einer
einzigen Motives glaube) finde ich den Artikel nieht so schlecht, wie
Schenker, der allerdings - exaltiert wie immer - gar nieht sagt,
warum er so schlecht sein solI. Nirgends sage ich dort etwas gegen
die Meister. Ich erwahne "den Kitsch" und den "Gassenhauer"

27
polemisiere aber nirgends gegen Wiederholungen in alteren
Meisterwerken. Ich sage nur, dass neue (ich sage nicht "moderne")
Melodien schwer verstiindlich sind, well sie, heute tiberfliissige
Wiederholungen venneiden sie durch Variation ersetzen und rascher
von einem Punkt zum nachsten fortschreiten, ja springen. Ich ziehe
nirgends zu Felde, "obwob! ich damals, als Schenker der schrieb (er
durfte - 1915) ziemlich nahe daran war zum wirldichen Felde zu
ziehen von welcher Gefahr er sich durch die verdienste meiner Feder
fernzuhalten imstande war. Ich hatte keine solchen Verdienste und
ware durch sie auch nicht von einem Faktischen feldzug enthoben
worden, hane sich nicht mein Asthma ins Minel gelegt. Mein
Patriotismus. mein glaube an die notwendigkeit des
Habsburgereiche hane mich vielleicht wirklich zu Felde zu ziehen
gelockt - es mag Uicherlich klingen, das heute zu sagen aber ich
habe es oft bedauert, das ich diese erfahrungen nicht habe machen
konnen. Vielleicht aber verdanke ich es diesem KIeinmut, den die
Konstatierung meiner korporlichen uneignung in meinem
Gemiitzustand hervorrief, das ich mich nicht zu einem feder Feldzug
Begeistern konnte wie der in wie der in welchem Schenker (siehe
sein "Vorwort" Abschnin 5ff) seine Hinterlands - Verdienste
mehrte ...
Genug: er ist heute wehrlos - ich ja iibrigens auch, denn wer
liest dergleichen noch?38 Arnold Schonberg Brentwood April 22,
1939
[This is Schenker's answer to some remarks about him in my
Harmonielehre. They fIrst come to my attention today (April 1939)
at a time since his death when I think not without a certain sentiment
of his personality and sincerity I have consistently esteemed. I have
expressed these sentiments in my Harmonielehre and I believe not to
have been unappreciative and unjust of his accomplishments. I was
not compelled to express a part of my polemic in a part I already
regret, because it came about in a tone of voice - in his - against
which I had already then expressed myself satirically. This tone is
more than just an echo, it is a reaction, it is a harsh and possibly not
undeserved reprimand for the tone with which he speaks about
music which was composed after Brahms, especially Max Reger.
One ought to read what he said about this significant composer as I
believe in his Free Composition. I certainly don't want to excuse
my reaction but I confess that I regret that I allowed myself to be

38Handwrinen essay transcribed by Steven Cahn with thanks to Stefan

Litwin and Scott Burnham. Cf. Bryan R. Simms, "New Documents in the
Schoenberg-Schenker Polemic," Perspectives of New Music 16 (1977): 120-4.

28
pulled into a personal attack. when I spoke about (p. 490 line 304
ff) that criticism. That critique is the sterile copy of the pretense of
creativity which Schenker uses against productivity. I had to recall
the image of this shouting. spitting man with a shrill voice - he is
not expressing his ideas. but instead he attacks those who know
something of whose existence he's not even aware.
As regrettable as the attack may be. and as little as his tone can be
excused one cannot dispute me. the attacked. who had always had
the right to choose anns. At the most one can regret that [ used his.
And in addition one can concede that he as the non-attacked could
have omitted such ugly insults. that to the depiction of compositional
art of the old masters which anyway was never attacked his shrill
voice was not necessary; and that much rather my voice in the heat
of defense should have been allowed to fail in such a way.
The little article is called as Schenker correctly says (but not
realizing what it means) "Why New Melodies Are Difficult to
Understand". Except for one little thing (after which [ was still
speaking of "new motives" whereas now [think in terms of one
motive) I find the article not so bad as Schenker. who on the other
hand exaggerated as always -- he does not even say why its
supposedly so bad. Nowhere do [say anything against the masters.
I mention the "Kitsch" and the "Gassenhauer" but [ never polemicize
against repetitions in the old masterworks. I say only. that new ([
do not say modem) melodies are difficult to understand. because
they avoid superfluous repetitions but replace them with variations.
and progress if not leap from one point to the next in quicker
fashion. I never went to battle. although when he wrote that. I was
pretty close to really going [0 battle. a danger which Schenker was
able to evade through the accomplishment of his pen.
I had no such accomplishment. and would have not been relieved
from the actual battle had not my asthma gotten in the way.
My patriotism etc. could have induced me to go to war -- it may
sound ridiculous to say that today: But I had regretted not having
been able to have this experience. Maybe lowe thanks to this lack
of spirit. which was called forth in my state of mind through the
determination of my physical unfitness. that I could not excite
myself into a battle of pens as that in which Schenker multiplied his
back country merits.
Enough! He is today defenseless - I am by the way also.
because who still reads such stuff anyway.] (My translation.)
By the last sentence we see that there is no reconciliation or resolution. just
resignation from a lengthy dispute. Schoenberg does little more than deny

29
Schenker's Monumentalist arguments that seem at least from the time of Swift to be
leveled at anything smacking of modernity. Schoenberg rejects not history, but
Monumentalism. This is the pattern that follows through the next two studies.
There is earlier evidence still of Schoenberg's recognition and repudiation of
Schenker's monumental ism from 1923. Two single-page essays. one dated June
6th and the other June 7th, take issue with passages from Schenker's Kontrapunkt
which in their tone and content are closely related to the footnote cited above. On
page xvi of his copy of Kontrapunkt, Schoenberg selectively underlined (as below)
the following phrases in Schenker:
Und mehr a1s das: schwel~t doch ein Teil der heuti~en Werke.
ahnlich wie noch in der vokal-kontrapunktischen Epoche auch
wieder erst nur in -- leeren KHingen, also in einer Technik. die ja
schon vor so vielen lahrhunderten durchaus aufgegeben werden
muBte. weil sie die Erzeugung des Inhalts hinderte.
[And more than this: some of today's works wallow, just as in the
vocal-contrapuntal epoch only more so -- empty sonorities. in a
technique. which had to be discarded so many centuries before.
because it hindered the generation of the content.]
Two red flags signal Schenker's monumentalism: the distinct separation of musical
epochs which precede and follow the Monumental epoch, and the suggestion that
technique generates musical content. By making technique rather than musicality in
general the source, Schenker monumentalizes a technique which is the unique
possession of one epoch. Schoenberg's typed response to Schenker addresses the
passage directly:
Tut nicht Schenker hier -wie immer - da selbe, was er an anderen
tadelt? So wie diese, so glaubt auch er es habe nur zu einer einzigen
Zeit grosse Meister gegeben. Nur meint er die Zeit von Bach bis ???
und die meinen die heutige Zeit. 1st es denn wahr, daB man

30
deswegen zum Sti! und der Technik Bachs bis Beethovens,
tibergegangen ist, daB man deswegen eine Technik auf g e g e ben
habe (sowie ein Kaufmann ein Geschaft, welcbes sicb nicht
rentiert!) "wei! sie die Erzeugung des Inhaltes bindere." Schube,
welche das Entsteben von Ftissen bindem (besser. verbindem). 1st
die Form nur ein Stiefel und ist nicht der Stiefel durch das
Vorhandensein eines Fusses bedingt und nicht umgekebrt? Das ist
docb kindisch! Inhalt nimmt Form an, das heisst, wenn es wirklicb
einen geben sollte der nich schon auch Form ist. Angenommen
aber, daB eine Technik erst den Inhalt hervomriicbte, erzeugte, so ...
ach das istja Unsinn und ebensolcher, das ernst zu nehmen!
Modling, 6. Juni 1923
Arnold Schoenberg
[Does not Schenker here -- as always -- do what he rebukes others
for? There like these, he believes there have been great masters only
in a single age. Only he means the time of Bach through ??? and
they mean the present time. Is it true then, that one therefore
skipped to the style and the technique of Bach through Beethoven,
that one therefore had given up a technique (like a salesman a shop,
which he himself doesn't rent!) "because it hampers the generation
of the content." Shoes, which hamper the growth of the feet (bener:
prevent). Is the fonn only a boot and isn't the boot required for the
sake of the foot and not the other way around? That is so childish!
Content adopts form, namely, if there is content which is not already
form. To assume that a technique fIrst produces the content, this is
just nonsense, just as it is nonsensical to take it seriously!]
Though this essay of June 6th seems to throw up its hands as it becomes bogged
down in the chicken-and-egg problem of form and content. the essay of June 7th
takes another approach to making the same points about Schenker's
monumental ism. First Schoenberg demonstrates how Schenker circumscribes the

prized epoch:
...er sieht den Stil der Klassiker an als eine "Errungschaft" tiber die
man nicht mehr hinaus kann. Als Errungscbaft, a1s einen
technischen Hohepunkt. als das letzte!
[He considers the style of the Classical [composers] as an
"achievement" which one cannot exceed - as an achievement, as a
technical culmination. as the ultimate!]

31
But Schoenberg continues to argue that reducing the basis of a compositional
practice to its rules is a gross misunderstanding:
Darum meint er, dass die alten Niederlinder nicht mehr unter
Komponieren verstanden haben, als sich durch die Fuxischen
Regeln sagen lasst; namIich nicht mehr, als dabei offen zutage trin.
[Therefore, he is of the opinion that the old Netherlanders did not
understand more about composition than is said by the Fuxian rules;
namely, not more than becomes evident as result (of them).}
What Schoenberg is arguing is a point that Kandinsky made in his circa 1912 essay
"On The Question of Fonn":
All the rules discovered in earlier art and those to be discovered later which art historians value too highly -- are not general rules: they
do not lead to art. If I know the craft of carpentry, I will always be
able to make a table. But one who knows the supposed rules of
painting will never be sure of creating a work of art.39
In other words, Schoenberg faults Schenker for conveying an unwarranted status to
rules in themselves in assessing the strengths and weaknesses of the music of
different epochs. A theorist may distill rules from a study of the literature, but these
rules do not constitute an algorithm for producing art works.
Riemann and Antiquarian History. Hugo Riemann, as characterized by
Schoenberg, is the complete antiquarian - a learned preserver of the past, but
unselective and impractical. Passages from Schoenberg's writings from 1911 to
1947 invariably typify Riemann as a musicological Mr. Casaubon. To show
Schoenberg's consistency in this maner, we shall review briefly references to

39Wassily Kandinsky and Franz Marc, eds., The Blaue Reiter Almanac,
Introduction by Klaus Lankheit (New York: Viking Press, 1974; reprint ed., New
York: Da Capo Press. 1989), p. 170.

32
Riemann - more for style than for substance - that occur in well known
Schoenberg sources: The Theory of Hannony and Style and Idea. There are also a
few unpublished materials that deserve more substantive attention for several
reasons: they are little known, they date from 1923, when Schoenberg was also
polemicizing against Schenker and Spengler, and they are musically very clear
examples.
From Schoenberg's standpoint, the dispute with Riemann rested on the
blindness of systematic empirical inquiry in the absence of pure musical logic.
Riemann's competent observations were in Schoenberg's eyes no guarantee that his
theories and explanations would be musically logical. Schoenberg, admitting his
lack of scholarly background, would often refer to Riemann. but. trusting his own
musical logic. would never defer to him.
The first mention of Riemann occurs in one of the richest sections of the
Theorv of Harmony that in which Schoenberg grapples with justifications for the
prohibition of parallel fifths and octaves. Unable to produce an airtight case for the
well known justifications of this prohibition - that they sound bad, that the voices
lack independence, and so forth -- Schoenberg attempts another approach. He tries
to envision the history of polyphony and find an answer there. Through a "rational
reconstruction" of the history of polyphony, Schoenberg found agreement in
Riemann with his own speculations about organum. that organum is not genuine
polyphony, but a kind of doubling at the fifth that developed in order to
accommodate the intermediate vocal ranges. Real polyphony only occurs with the

33
advent of contrary motion. Schoenberg cites Riemann as an authority on organum.
but in this footnote Schoenberg goes on to write:
"On the question of organum I would like to mention something
else: I am told that 'scholarship' doubts whether there has ever
really been such a thing. That is what scholarship always does
when something does not fit into its scheme of things. Organum is.
however. so self-evident that. if it by chance bad not actually
existed. we should now invent it and insert it retroactively into the
past. But I believe it must have already existed - the doubt of
scholarship reassures me in my belief.40
Schoenberg's anti-scholarly sentiments and determination to determine the past
retroactively, if necessary, are not heretical in the Nietzschean framework. Nor
would they be heretical for R. G. Collingwood who requires reason to fill in the
intennediate steps of a process, and nor would they be for [mre Lakatos who in his
history of mathematics Proofs and Refutations reconstructed history based on lines
of reason ("rational reconstructions"), not events. Whether or not there was a
musical practice called organum that occurred in a particular time and place is a
secondary historical question to: whether or not it was possible. and whether or not
the logic of the development of polyphony required it. Answering yes on both
counts. Schoenberg draws two conclusions with respect to the prohibition of
parallel fifths and octaves. First. parallel fifths and octaves ought not to be
prohibited. They are the residue of an outmoded or untimely practice. Schoenberg
writes: "One should only be untimely in running on ahead of the times, but not in

4OArnoid Schoenberg, Theory of Harmony, trans. Roy Carter (Los

Angeles: University of California Press, 1978), p.66

34

limping along behind. "41 Second. the study of polyphony ought to proceed
through its historical evolution. So the implication for pedagogy is that parallel
fifths and octaves must be forbidden while the student's development matches the
corresponding stage of polyphony's development. Only at an advanced stage might
parallel fifths be used. Schoenberg adds that they should not be used
ostentatiously. Not for aesthetic reasons is their effect poor, that they sound
modem or odd. but for the historical reason that polyphony's evolution requires the
inclusion of ever more remote tonal relationships; music that dwells on a uniform
series of consonances defeats the inclination to develop keener perception for "more
remote consonances."
Despite the slight disdain Schoenberg expresses for scholarly indecision. he
and Riemann might be seen as running their enterprises on parallel yet
complementary tracks. But later in the book Schoenberg polemicizes against the
antiquarian more bluntly. This occurs in a discussion which relates the structure of
secondary dominant harmonies by homology to the church modes through the
exchange of a diatonic tetrachord for some species of modal tetrachord. In
Schoenberg's view. the world of the church modes lives within the world of
tonality. Thus his view of secondary dominants is both more historically sound
4lSchoenberg. Theory of Harmony, p. 67. This maxim might be a
paraphrase of Nietzsche's Unzeit~masse Betrachtun~n (Untimely
Contemplations) of 1888. See also Karl LOwith, From He~el to Nietzsche, trans.
by David E. Green (New York: Columbia University Press Morningside Edition,
1991), p. 191. As Lowith puts it: "Because Nietzsche was 'untimely' in his
relationship to his period and to contemporary philosophy, and has remained
untimely, he was and is also 'timely,' a philosophic criterion of the period." Much
the same, mutatis mutandis, could be said of Schoenberg.

35
and more systematic than a view in which secondary dominants are seen as an ad
hoc phenomenon of applied chromaticism in conjunction with movement by fifth.
About Riemann's view, Schoenberg writes:
I see in Riemann's Vereinfachte Hannonielehre that this
inventive. fertile thinker also hit upon the notion of opening up the
wealth of the old church modes; for he introduces such tenns as
'Dorian sixth', 'Lydian fourth', etc. But by virtue of his giving
names to the individual phenomena he turns them into special cases
and in so doing deprives them of further development. They are
then merely antiquarian reminiscences of the church modes, through
whose use cenain singular effects are created, as in Brahms's
music.-'2
What Schoenberg argues here - consonant with Nietzsche's view -- is that he is the
good antiquarian who sees how select aspects of the old enrich the new. while
Riemann is the excessive antiquarian who reifies the ancient and values it for its
ancient-ness. With these words Schoenberg distinguishes Riemann. as well as
working to distinguish himself from Riemann.

In 1916, a notorious

~ntry

on Schoenberg occurred in Riemann's

Musiklexicon. According to Willi Reich, Riemann probably drafted this entry in

1914 given what Riemann lists as Schoenberg's oeuvre to date. Riemann writes
the following about the Harmonielehre:
His Treatise on Harmony, published in 1911, is a strange
mixture: out-of-date theories and prejudices, derived from Simon
Sechter's system, alongside a hyper modem negation of all theory.
The author's confession that he has 'never read a history of music'
provides the key to this unprecedentedly dilettantish effon. The

42Schoenberg. Theory of Harmony, p. 427

36

'artistic craftsmanship' taught by Schoenberg is something that still

forms no part of the average musician's world. thank goodness.43
Riemann's rejoinder is clearly in kind: where Schoenberg charges pedantry,
Riemann's riposte charges dilettantism. What each man counts as knowledge of
music history defines him and discourages dialogue with the other.
Riemann died in 1919, but Schoenberg continued to attack his work along
the same lines according to the archetype of the antiquarian. In August 1923
Schoenberg focused on the irony of Riemann's learnedness with his impracticality
or to use Schoenberg's word "absurdity" as a musician. The preponderance of
marginalia in Schoenberg's copies of Riemann's work attests to Schoenberg's need
to contradict and correct Riemann at every misstep. We will look at a single
example which begins with Schoenberg's marginalia but grew into two short
essays from the crucial summer of 1923. Meter is the topic, and the specific case is
the theme from the last movement of Beethoven's Piano Sonata Opus 53 (the
"Waldstein") is the example.
In Schoenberg's copy of Riemann's Musiklexicon one finds Schoenbergs
impossible to read marginalia accompanying various entries pertaining to rhythm:
Metrik, Taktvorzeichnun& (time signature), and Tempo. But an article by Theodor
Wiebmayer, "Zur AufkHirun&!

Hu~o

Riemann's metrisches Betonun~schema" that

appeared in the Neuen Musik-Zeitun~ in May 1923 provoked Schoenberg to

produce two short essays: "Zur Fra~e der MET R I K (Auftakti~keit: Riemann)"

43Willi Reich. Schoenber~: A Critical BioWWhy, trans. Leo Black (New

York: Praeger, 1971: reprint ed., New York: Da Capo Press, 1981), p. 81.

37
which is dated August 10, 1923 and "Zur MET R I Kif which is dated August II,
1923. At the bottom of the fIrst page of his copy of the Wiehmayer anicle,
Schoenberg wrote the date August 11. 1923. Schoenberg might well have written
the August 10th essay before reading Wiehmayer. Whether Schoenberg wrote on
the 10th (perhaps to set down his own views on Riemann's

Auftakti~keit

without

Wiehmayer's influence) then read and wrote again on the 11th, or read and wrote in
some other plausible sequence. Schoenberg did not have Wiehmayer in his cross
hairs, but Riemann.
The August 10th essay begins by calling into question Riemann's proof for
his general law of Auftaktigkeit which ascribes the quality of upbeat-ness to the
beginning of all musical motives. The proof rests on the analogy that, as
Schoenberg put it:
... jeder Schritt mit dem Erheben des Fusse beginnt und mit dem
Niedersetzen endet. Das ist gewiss gewiss auf den ersten Blick
bestechend und dennoch falsch.
[... each step (a person takes) begins with the lifting of the foot and
ends with the lowering. This is painfully obvious at fIrst glance and
therefore false.] (My translation.)
To falsify the analogy Schoenberg cites the spondee, the metrical foot which begins
with a "lowering" and then continues with a second "lowering". The complexity of
rhythm in language is the more apt analogy. In practice rhythm is enormously
complex and subtle like light under all possible cloud conditions. a point he made
earlier in the Theory of Harmony. Schoenberg continues:
Will man eben so rein theoretisch den musikalische Rhythmus
ansehen, so ist es immerhin so gar deokbar. daB lauter unbetonte

38
Anscblage einanderfolgen. etwa. wie beim Knattern eines
Mascbinegewheres oder beim Rasseln einer Nahmascbine.
Riemann ist der verkehrsteste Schulmeister der jemals da war.
oder mindestens der ilberschatzteste. Eine so verkehrte Idee: wenn
man weiss. das es Jamben und Trachaen. Anapeste und DaktyUen
giebt. wenn man somit ein sinnfallig aufdringliches Vorbild fUr eine
ausserdem vorhanden Tatsache vor sich hat. anzunehmen. dass es
nur ein Metrum gebe! Das ist der Schulmeister, der nur fUr aUe
Schiller eine Regel hat. Dieser noch weiter: er andert die Tatsachen
soweit. dass es fUr aUe nur ein Gesetz giebt (Bei den Ausnahmen
wird allerdings auch er poetisch!)
[Does one want to look upon musical rhythm just as pure theory,
thus is it thinkable that clear unaccented beats follow one another
like the knattering of a machine gun or the rattle of a sewing
machine.
Riemann is the most absurd schoolmaster there ever was, or at
least the most overrated. One such absurd idea: when one knows
that there are iambs and trochees, anapests and dactyls. when one
consequently prefers an obviously obtrusive model for a preexisting
fact, that there is only one meter! That is the schoolmaster. who has
one rule for all schools. This goes even further: he changes the
facts so far. that there is one law for all. (He certainly becomes
poetic in the exceptions.)] (My translation.)
With this essay Schoenberg completes his portrait of Riemann as the antiquarian
archetype. a Casaubon or Tesman who is unable to generalize from facts
effectively, but only grossly. Having dispatched Riemann in the August 10th
essay. Schoenberg returns to the topic of Metrik the next day to discuss a musical
example from Riemann without mentioning Riemann at aU. The question concerns
the "great meter" of the Rondo theme of Beethoven's "Waldstein" Sonata. Op.
53.44 Beethoven writes the theme in a 214 meter and therein lies a certain
ambiguity: when the theme occurs prestissimo in 212, where should the downbeats

44See Dr. Hugo Riemann and Dr. Karl Fuchs. Practical Guide to the Art of
Phrasing (New York: G. Schirmer, 1890), 147pp. Riemann and Fuchs refer to
"great metre."

39
fall? Riemann's barring differs from Beethoven's. Given Riemann's axiom that
themes begin with a raising and end with a lowering, the barring Riemann suggests
is not surprising: from its inception, a theme seeks a point of stability, of repose -a place to sit down. Just as it begins with an upbeat, the C on which the first period
closes, falls on a strong downbeat.

Example 1.1
0Iicinal bmiIIg (upper sllff) I Riemann's bll'linc IS illU3tra1l!d in

Wiehmayer's article (lover sllff):;...._ __

r r---p Ir
,-----

,r

I r"

-;1,
------."'"

prJ I r P "t

To Schoenberg. Riemann's barring is "fUr Ochsen" because it represents

such a fundamentally wrong hearing of the music. The low C which falls on the
downbeat. missing in Wiebmayer's examples, is a tone which has a dual role as
both bass voice and first tone of the melody; Riemann apparently disregards this
voice and its role in the overall tonal rhythm. Beethoven's barring. completely
different from Riemann's in it musical effect, has significant ramifications
throughout the movement. Rather than always moving toward moments of
stability, the theme embarks from a point of stability. In Riemann's version
cadences are metrically strong as a rule; the music becomes highly redundant in this
sense. If we follow the metrical implications of Beethoven's prestissimo barring alternating strong and weak measures - we would hear that cadences often arrive
first on metrically weak measures and require extensions to bring cadence and meter

40

into phase. Sforzati that are marked on downbeats recognize and call attention to
the disagreement between meter and tonal rhythm. But the thrust of Schoenberg's
essay is to show what errors can occur when a musician cannot hear and relate
many voices. Schoenberg laments:
Die meisten denken bestenfalls Melodie und Begleitung; manche
vielleicht nicht einmal das; Pianisten aber denken scheinbar nur in
Griffen und Uberhaupt nicht in Stimmen.
[Most think at best in melody and accompaniment; some perhaps
not even that; pianists apparently think only in hand positions and
not chiefly in voices.]
Without belaboring the point, Schoenberg forgoes any specific polemic with
Riemann in the August 11th essay, having consigned him to the archetype of
schoolmaster the day before. This particular archetype is closely derived from
Nietzsche's Antiquarian for whom the past is only a past because he lacks the
creative impulse to see what in it possesses vitality.
There are two more well known occasions on which Riemann's archetype
ought to be recalled. Willi Reich quotes a biographical entry from 1930 about
Schoenberg adapted by Berg mutatis mutandis from Riemann's biographical entry
on 1. S. Bach. Not only does Berg's parody argue that Schoenberg's role in the
history of music parallels that of I. S. Bach's, but as a parody shows how clear the
past is to the historian who is blind to the historical parallel in his own time. The
other late recurrence of the Riemarm archetype occurs in H. H. Stuckenschmidt's
account of the conflict between Thomas Mann and Schoenberg over what
Schoenberg took as the misappropriation of his intellectual property in Mann's
Doktor Faustus - in which Mann's protagonist Adrian LeverkUhn becomes the

41
originator of the method of composing with twelve tones. To make the point
vividly that future historians might mistakenly attribute the twelve-tone method
incorrectly to Mann, Schoenberg concocted a text dated 1988 about a historian
named Hugo Triebsamen who botches the attribution of the twelve-tone method.
Hugo Triebsamen is a portmanteau of Hugo Riemann and Walter Rubsamen. Once
again Schoenberg attacks the antiquarian's capacity to go beyond preservation and
draw conclusions.
Spengler and Critical History. Spengler's philosophy of history became a
topic for Schoenberg in two essays from 1923, "Those Who Complain About the
Decline" and "The Young and I," as well as in a substantial footnote to the revised
edition of the Harmonielehre. In 1932, he wrote once more on Spengler in an
unpublished essay "Moral ist Schwache -- Spen&ler."4S Each of these writings is
quite individual in its tone and approach, but all of them attack Spengler's singular
method of Critical History in which he derives laws of history through analogies
with processes of organic growth and development. The source for Spengler's
organicism is his reading of Goethe's botanical writings. By virtue of this
adaptation of Goethe's method to the method of history, Spengler claims to be able
to predetennine history. About this claim, William Dray, in mock awe, writes: "It
is as if Spengler could at least rough-out the critical notices of any of our attempts at

45Amold Schoenberg, "Moral ist Schwache - Speniler" (10 October

1932), unpublished manuscript, Archives of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute,
Rufer K-2.

42

music or poetry or philosophy before we even begin. "46 Of course Spengler's

critical notices for all composers after Wagner are uniformly bad. According to
Spengler's scheme, "the last of the Faustian arts died in Tristan. "47 This must have
been especially disheartening to all latecomers. Where Schenker attacked
Schoenberg for "waging battle against the masters," and Riemann's opening salvo
blasted Schoenberg for an ignorance of history, Spengler took the pen out of
Schoenberg's hand before he had even begun to write. That Spengler dismissed
Schoenberg's music out of hand is however not the central point of the dispute. At
the heart of the dispute is a question of heritage: who can be counted among the
rightful heirs of the view that creativity is at the heart of life? Though Spengler
asserts his method is based on Goethe's, Musil and Schoenberg find Spengler's
method to be a gross distortion of Goethe. In 1921, Musil wrote a deeply profound
essay attacking Spengler called "Mind and Experience" which accords with
Schoenberg's view only goes much further. But the essay does not only
polemicize, it also suggests an alternative through a glimpse into Musil's construct
of the "nonratioid realm" which attains some definition against the dispute with
Spengler. Within Musil's notion of the "nonratioid realm" are implications for a
commonality between Musil and Schoenberg which lie beyond their mutual

46William Dray, Perspectives on History (London: Routledge & Kegan

Paul, 1980), p. 113.
470swald Spengler, The Decline of the West, trans. H. Stuart Hughes
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), pp. 155-6.

43
antipathy toward Spengler and suggest an authentic resonance between Musil's and
Schoenberg's ideas and aesthetics.
Spengler's two-volume Per Unte[KanK des Abendlandes, published
between 1918 and 1922, is a Critical History resting upon the cornerstone of
Universal History.48 But the foundation is Goethe, the botanical writings in
particular. That Spengler venerated Goethe is evident throughout the book. Goethe
figures no less prominently in Nietzsche -- Spengler's other great mentor - as well
as in Musil and Schoenberg, if with a different emphasis in each. For Nietzsche,
Goethe was the Dionysian Man who brought together in himself Apollo and
Dionysus. that is, measures of balance and passion in a life of "creative striving"
and of overcoming illness. 49 Musil, as both writer and trained scientist, not only
placed Goethe at the summit of German poetry (with Rilke), but gave special
support to the soundness of Goethe's scientific investigations as an antidote to a

48See Hans Kohn. The Mind of GermanY (New York: Harper and Row,
1961), pp. 322, 330 and H. Stuart Hughes, Introduction to The Decline of the
West, by Oswald Spengler (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), p. vii. The
title is customarily translated as The Decline of the West. Kohn translates
"UnterKanK" as "decay" to convey strongly the loss of humanistic values
represented by the public's embrace of Spengler's cynicism. Hughes points to later
writings to show that Spengler intended to invoke a metaphor of a gradual process.
like a sunset.
49See Walter Kaufmann, Nietzsche: Philosopher. Psycholoiist. Antichrist.
4th ed., (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1974), pp. 129,281-282.

44
modem irrationalism which warped Goethe's intuitive method. so And in
Schoenberg's writings, concepts about unity and diversity in musical composition
play on cenain themes from Goethe's "Plant Metamorphosis."SI Webem too, who
had genuine botanical interests, invokes plant morphology as an important
metaphor in thinking about how a musical composition attains unity through the
functional differentiation of structurally similar parts. 52 We might expect this
shared foundation to engender a common view, but what we fmd instead is fierce
opposition to Spengler from both Musil and Schoenberg. We locate this opposition
just where Spengler's Critical History reaches critical excess, and consequently

50Robert Musil, "Helpless Europe." (1922) Precision and Sou), eds. trans.
Burton Pike and David Luft (University of Chicago Press, 1990). p. 123. See also
Michael Mackelmann. Arnold SchOnberi und das Judentum (Hamburger Beitrage
zur Musikwissenschaft, 28; Hamburg, 1984). p. 429 and John Covach.
"Schoenberg and the Occult: Some Reflections on the Musical Idea," Theory and
Practice 17 (1992): 103-118. Musil rejects mystical or occult interpretations of
Goethe'S scientific investigations. Perhaps Musil means Rudolf Steiner whose
occult interpretation of the Goethean world view was also published in 1922.
Mackelmann and Covach both discuss Schoenberg's exposure to Steiner around
1904. I disagree with Covach that the Idea is an occult notion. Goethe, Wilhelm
von Humboldt, Musil and Schoenberg do not treat the Idea as existing in a hidden
otherworldly dimension.
51 See Heinrich Graetz, Popular HistolY of the Jews, trans. Rabbi A. B.
Rhine, ed. Alexander Harkavy, 5th ed. (New York: Iordan Publishing Co.,
1935), vol. 5, p. 442. Graetz regards Goethe as "a pagan and a sensualist." As the
composer of Moses und Aron, Schoenberg sets forth Graetz's view. In this sense,
one should not make too much of Goethe's influence upon Schoenberg.
52Anton Webem, Path to New Music, ed. Willi Reich. trans. Leo Black
(London: Universal Edition, 1975), p. 40.

45

becomes antithetical to creativity. 53 Tied in to the peculiar sense in which 1k

Decline of the West functions as a Critical History are the methodology and
metaphors of Goethe's nature studies. We shall examine Schoenberg's and Musil's
attacks against Spengler in light of all that was at stake for them in defending
Goethe's legacy.
In a nutshell, Goethe's "methodology" is idealist, empiricist and intuitive.
In that "the idea is the basis for all observing," i.e. a priori, Goethe's idealism and
empiricism work together. this has a basis in Kant. 54 Intuition is a more obscure
concept. Iris Murdoch describes it as an impression of the whole gained from
disparate parts. In this sense, intuition is the master key to an analogy among so
many disparate elements. Analogical thinking lies at the heart of Spengler's
accounts, and the intuition of the common factor becomes the source for the idea
In his essay "Mind and Experience" (1921), Musil reduces the recipe for creating
analogies a la Spengler to a simple, and nastily satirical, algorithm:
One need only take the predicate "is in a certain sense," "becomes in
a certain sense," or "has in a certain sense," set aside minor
differences of expression, combine every idea that has been brought
up with all the others, and then affinn the combination of all
concepts that stand in the first position in their pairs and likewise all
those in the second position in relation to each other, and fmally
53Robert Musil, "Mind and Experience: Notes for Readers Who Have
Eluded the Decline of the West," Precision and Soul (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1990), pp. 134-6. Spengler also reaches inaccuracy, as Musil
shows, in the loose language used in recounting the history of mathematics. Note
Musil's pun in the subtitle. These are notes for people who have read The Decline
of the West, but have eluded the decline.
54J. W. von Goethe, Goethe's Botanical Writin&s, trans. Bertha Mueller
(Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1952), p. 185.

46
negate every combination of a concept in the first position with one
in a second position. The conscientious application of these rules
will effortlessly yield Spengler's philosophy, and even somewhat
more. 55
Musil maligns Spengler's analogies, finding them weak and unpersuasive.
Through the (foul) play of weak analogies, Spengler aestheticizes history to the
point at which his historiography becomes belletristic though billed as intuitive. 56
Thanks to a clear example from "The Metamorphosis of Plants," Goethe advances
an admirable and strong instance of intuitive understanding to which we can refer:
Most of the diversely fashioned organs which Linne designated
by the name nectaries may be grouped together according to this
concept [viz. nectaries occur as "if3dual transitions from the sepals
to the stamens"]. And, once again, we have occasion to admire the
keen mind of that extraordinary man, who, without definitely
knowing the function of these apparently quite diverse organs, relied
upon intuition and ventured to classify them under one name. 57
Observation too plays an important role in the formation of an intuition that can
synthesize through the static of myriad outward differences, though how the
powers of observation are directed can spell the difference between the mystic and

55MusiI, "Mind and Experience," Precision and Soul, p. 144.

56See T. W. Adorno, "Spengler Mter the Decline," Prisms, trans. by
Samuel and Shierry Weber (Massachusetts: MIT Press, 1986), p. 67. Adorno
elaborates this point, writing: "... for Spengler the history of the world becomes a
history of style: man's historical experiences are as much a part of his inner self as
are works of art."
57Goethe, Botanical Writin~s, pp. 48-49.

47
the scientist.58 Clearly, these three elements of the methodology are enhanced
when cultivated mutually. In the manner of Linnleus. Goethe ventures an intuition
of his own. Acknowledging the immense diversity covered by the concept of plant
kingdom, Goethe intuits a primal plant. the Umflanze. in order to answer the
question he poses in the Italian Journey: "How could I recognize that this or that
fonn was a plant without a basic model?"59 We should note that the empirically
rigorous botanical writings proper, barely make mention of the Primal Plant which
acts as something more than a perceptual aid, but less than the metaphysical

58See Gunnar Brandell. Strindberi in Inferno, trans. by Barry Jacobs

(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1974), p. 166-7. See also Musil, "[On the
Essay 1914?]," Precision and Soul. p.50 Brandell quotes Strindberg: "I place
myself in a state of unconsciousness and then I let my brain work freely, without
regard for results or approval, and then something that I believe in emerges."
Strindberg's intuition, which begins by dispelling all intention, is characteristic of
the view expressed in Schoenberg's writings of 1909 which are indebted to
Strindberg. Renaissance science is the basis for Strindberg's intuition, particularly
Bacon's method of pure a posteriori induction which required totally unprejudiced
observation. Musil also wrote about this kind of intuition: "This sudden coming
alive of an idea, this lightning-like reforging of a great complex of feeling by means
of the idea, so that one suddenly understands the world and oneself differently: this
is intuitive knowledge in the mystical sense."
59Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Italian Journey, trans. W.H. Auden and
Elizabeth Mayer (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1970), p.259.

48
(ideological?) construct it was to become in romantic thought. 60 With his
methodology in place, Goethe proposed that anyone might implement the
methodology as he likes, "as a tool."61 And in forging a tool to compose his
Universal History, Spengler recast the methodology Goethe demonstrated in his
botanical writings.62
The metaphorical aspect of Goethe's organicism expresses a view of life
outwardly congenial to Spengler's methodology. Spengler quoted the following
passage from Goethe which occurs in a conversation with Eckermann from
February 13, 1829.
The godhead is at work in the living, not in the dead; it is present
in everything in the process of development and transformation, not
in what has already taken shape and rigidified. Thus, reason in its
strivings toward the divine, is concerned with growth and life,

6O(}oethe, Botanical Writinl:s, p. 94. See A. I. Miller, "Unipolar Induction:

A Case Study of the Interaction Between Science and Technology," Annals of
Science 38 (1981): 153-87. What Goethe meant by Primal Plant bears on our
understanding of what Schoenberg meant by Die musikalische Gedanke. If one
imagines the way magnetism is illustrated in textbooks with arching lines
representing lines of force, then one may ask. are these lines visual aids or are they
really lines of force? In England and America, these lines are taken to be aids to
visualization. In the German scientific culture of Einstein's youth, they are
inseparable from the theory; they are an Anschauun&. I would suggest that this
notion of Anschauun& does justice to the intuition of Ull>henomena as nonverbal,
instrumental, imaginings that interact with our sensory perceptions. 1bere is
nothing necessarily occult or supernatural, about such intuitions.

6lGoethe, B.rim, II, 249, quoted in LOwith, From He~l to Nietzsche,

trans. David E. Green (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1964; reprint ed.,
New York: Columbia University Press, 1991), p. 5.
62Karl Lowith, From He&el to Nietzsche, p. 5.

49
whereas understanding is concerned with putting to use what has
already developed and grown torpid. 63
Goethe himself quoted a scientist of his own time who seized upon the essence of
this view when he summed up Goethe's approach to science: "Whatever Goethe
looked upon in Nature, immediately acquired the character of a living experience for
him."64 The nature of the encounter with Nature is always vital. The accent is
always upon life, upon synthetic reason over analytic (mechanistic) understanding
(or Vemunft over Verstand in Kantian terms). Yet in Spengler, the accent shifts as
he heavily underscores the vestiges of the past that have "grown torpid." In terms
of Spengler's scheme, the change of emphasis leads to generalizations about
cultural declines in history occurring at periodic phases of historical development.
And this periodicity acquires a sense of necessity which supports prediction. As
Spengler's scheme takes on a critical cast, the question arises: Where does
Spengler's Critical History stand with respect to Nietzsche'S requirements for a
Critical History that is useful for life?
Nietzsche's flrst directive on critical history is that: "Man must have the

63Goethe, Botanical Writings, p. 12. See Oswald Spengler, Der Untergang

des Abendlandes (MUnchen: Oskar Beck, 1923), I, 67. Spengler writes that this
sentence "comprises his own entire philosophy and that he would not change one
word of it."
64Goethe's Botanical Writings. p. 191. "The publication ["An Analogous
Procedure: Wilhelm von SchUtz's Contributions to MOI:pholoiY"] from which
Goethe presents excerpts here was studied by him in August 1821. The summary
was occurs originally in Natural Science in General: Morphology in Particular,
Vol. I, No.4 (1822).

50
strength to break up the past, and apply it, too, in order to live."65 This purpose
represents the thrust of Spengler's work. In his The Decline of the West, he breaks
up the past into discrete entities he calls Cultures. The life of each Culture is
further broken down into phases that follow an inescapable path generally
analogous to stages in the life of an organism: birth, growth, maturity, decline.
This view of world history as an analog for the "world-as-nature" is more than
metaphor, it is the synthesis of the dialectical opposites History and Nature, which
Spengler presents as his leading insight. Spengler presents this insight as
something new. yet grounded in Goethe's intuition of the Urphenomen which
Spengler professed to revive and develop:
Culture is the archetypal phenomenon of all past and future world
history. The profound and little-appreciated idea of Goethe, which
he discovered in his 'living nature' and which always formed the
base of his morphological research, is to be applied here in its
strictest sense to all civilizations in human history, whether
completely matured. cut off in full flower, half-grown or nipped in
the bud. It is a method of perception, rather than analysis ...The
archetypal phenomenon is that which represents the pure essence of
growth. 66

65Nietzsche, The Use and Abuse of History, pp. 20-21.

66Spengler, Der Untergang, I, 67, quoted in the introduction to Goethe's
Botanical Writings, p. 17. Note that Spengler shows some regard for the accidental
with expressions such as "cut off in full flower" or "nipped in the bud." Goethe
acknowledged the accidental, but did not make it part of his study. Schoenberg
though did not find in Spengler any regard for contingency. In Spengler even
seeming accidents are the consequents of the logic of time Spengler calls Destiny.
Underlying all of this is the distinction Spengler draws between perception
and analysis as a contrast between Goethe's perception (organic, intuitive,
particular, processual) and Newton's analysis (mechanistic, nomothetic, universal,
static).

51
Spengler's analogy between Culture and Primal Plant is twofold: both are
methodologically comparable as "archetypal phenomena." and both become
comparable through the analogy of history with nature. There is yet another twist
to the elements of these analogies. For Spengler. cultures are not just discrete
entities, they are autonomous entities with their own unique outlooks. According to
this view, for example, the understanding that "nature is a function of culture,"
means that science is not translatable from culture to culture. 67 This relativist view,
as Musil argues, denies any objective reality and assumes all knowledge as
meaningful only within the context of a particular culture's style of knowing. An
important question lies in this thicket: if the understanding of Nature is rooted in
Culture, and if the understanding of History is rooted in Nature, then what is the
basis for the explanatory power of History? We shall soon return to this question
as Musil, Collingwood and others find in Spengler nothing that constitutes
historical explanation. First we shall continue to pursue the vitalistic implications of
the analogy of Culture and Nature.
Nietzsche's vitalism requires that history be useful for life, a theme which
runs throughout his discussion of critical history. Spengler, following Nietzsche,

67Robert Musil, "Mind and Experience," Precision and Soul, p. 137. See
John Farrenkopf, "The Transformation of Spengler's Philosophy of World
History," Journal of the History ofIdeas 52 (1991): 463-485. As Musil
emphasizes, when Spengler puts his synthesis into practice, cultures are not
autonomous entities just because they behave like analogs of organisms.
Farrenkopf shows that in subsequent works Spengler revised this position of
extreme autonomy.

52
shares this intention. After all, Spengler begins Der Untergang des Abendlandes
with a bold claim:
In this book is attempted for the first time the venture of
predetennining history, of following the still untraveled stages in the
destiny of a Culture, and specifically of the only Culture of our time
and on our planet which is actually in the phase of fulfillment - the
West European - American. 68
What could be more useful? But for Nietzsche the attitude toward the past must be
intensely critical. To this end, two other directives on critical history necessarily
follow in Nietzsche's discussion in order to anathematize the dead past: first, the
past must be interrogated and finally condemned, because as a rule, "every past is
worth condemning," and second, the critic of history "must plant a new way of
life, a new instinct, a second nature, that withers the first. "69 Oddly enough, in
Spengler's history the voice of the encomiast sounds more frequently than that of
the condemner of past Cultures - the Culture of India as one that Spengler
disfavors is the exception.70 This peculiarity (or divergence from Nietzschean
critical history) is the result of an unusual combination of perspectives which Karl

68Spengler, The Decline of the West (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1962),
p. vii. The connection here is that Goethe appeared to foresee the Panama and Suez
Canals and their economic consequences.
69Nietzsche, The Use and Abuse of History, p. 21
70See Ranjit Chatterjee, "Judaic Motifs in Wittgenstein," Austrians and
Jews in the Twentieth-Century, ed. Robert Wistrich (New York: St. Martin's
Press, 1992), pp. 156-7. Chatterjee finds that Spengler's discussion is "so
thorough, well informed and well documented that an intelligent and curious reader.
without any commitment to Spengler's views on the subject, could come to his own
understandings ..... and suggests they might be a source for Wittgenstein's
understanding of Judaism.

53
Popper noticed: Spengler is both a relativist, because he sees knowledge as a
product possessing meaning only in the Culture that has produced it, and a
positivist, because he sees all Cultures as subject to the same inexorable laws. 71
Schoenberg argues the same point, that the linkage between a culture's state of
vibrancy and its circumstances whether tranquil or turbulent is purely arbitrary.
The alleged 'extinction' CUntergang') of a civilization (that of an
entire section of the world is fortunately an impossibility, at least
linguistically) is strictly a historicism not founded upon any coherent
thought...Thus a nation, too, whose achievements are esteemed by
posterity, is not contemptible from the moment in which posterity's
interest turns -- for unknown reasons -- to other nations ... But
neither does a nation by any means have to be decadent at the
moment of its defeat, yes, even annihilation. (1920)72
What seems clear to Schoenberg about Spengler's organicism is its emphasis on the
mortality of every Culture. The built-in mortality factor permits Spengler to offer
encomia to past Cultures which let his discussions, in Goethean fashion, follow the
manifestations of a Culture's "soul" through its various expressions and inevitable
decline, while avoiding the onus of having to flog a dead horse.
On the second point, "planting a new way of life," the success of
Spengler's book in Germany, England and America during the years immediately
after World War I gave Spengler the opportunity to plant a new way of life. That
way of life turned out to be an intellectual movement called the "Conservative
Revolution." As a source for this movement Spengler offered little direction. He
71 Karl Popper, The Philosophy of Karl Popper, The Library of Living
Philosophers, vol. 14, bk. 2, ed. Paul A. Schilpp (LaSalle: Open Court, 1974), p.

1173.
nSchoenberg, Theory of Harmony, pp. 425-6.

54
rejected Democrats, Socialists, Communists or any other pany wooing the
electorate, because he rejected the democratic-capitalist phase - the phase of decline in which he lived, and instead portended a state soon to emerge, one sounding
frighteningly like German fascism.?3
Surprisingly, given the many problems of factual content in Spengler's
history, Musil and Schoenberg attack Spengler just where one might expect them to
be most sympathetic: Spengler's historical outlook that is both organicist and
intuitive. A frequent contrarian attitude is characteristic of both Schoenberg and
Musil. But since Spengler, as a popular practitioner of Universalgeschichte was
"playing for high stakes at the no limit table,"74 Schoenberg and Musil seem
compelled to make Spengler an outcast. They protest that Spengler's work is not
about knowledge, but rather about promulgating a vision of the future - a vision of
pessimism, antithetical to creative life - that pandered to the negativistic tendencies
of the post-World War I public.15 Before focusing on Musil's and Schoenberg's
attack on Spengler, let us look at a passage in which Spengler emulates Goethe, and

73Golo Mann, The History of Germany Since 1789, trans. Marian lackson,
rev. ed. (New York: Praeger, 1968) pp. 376-377. See also T. W. Adorno,
Prisms, pp. 53-55.
74Louis O. Mink, Historical Understanding, eds. Brian Fay, Eugene
Golob, Richard Vann (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1987), p. 119.
75See Adorno, Prisms, pp. 62. "[Spengler's] breadth is the result of his
practice of never honestly following through the dialectic of concept and particular
detail but instead making a detour though a schematism which uses the 'fact'
ideologically to crush thought ... "

55
some philosophical reactions to it. Setting forth his idea of Soul in analogy to an
organism, Spengler writes:
A Culture is born in the moment when a great soul awakens out
of the proto-spirituality of ever-childish humanity, and detaches
itself, a form from the formless, a bounded and mortal thing from
the boundless and enduring. It blooms on the soil of an exactly
definable landscape, to which plant-wise it remains bound. It dies
when this soul has actualized the full sum of its possibilities in the
shape of peoples, languages, dogmas, arts, states, sciences, and
reverts into the proto-souL But its living existence, that sequence of
great epochs which define and display the stages of fulfillment, is an
inner passionate struggle to maintain the Idea against the powers of
Chaos without and the unconscious muttering deep down within. It
is not only the artist who struggles against the resistance of the
material and the stifling of the idea within him. Every Culture
stands in a deeply symbolical. almost in a mystical, relation to the
Extended, the space, in which and through which it strives to
actualize itself. The aim once attained - the idea, the entire content
of inner possibilities, fulfilled and made externally actual - the
Culture suddenly hardens, it mortifies, its blood congeals, its force
breaks down, and it becomes Civilization, the thing which we feel
and understand in the words Egypticism, Byzantinism,
Mandarinism. 76 (Emphasis added.)
In "The Young and I," Schoenberg made sport by mixing metaphors, the image of
the plant-wise bound flower with the implication of progress on the move:
For whatever else [the young] have not studied, they have studied
musical history. And so they know that a new art is due to come
now (Spengler foretold it long ago), and each of them already
knows his role and knows what is the one and only role this leaves
for me. Whatever inspiration I may still have, it can no longer shift

76Spengler, The Decline, pp. 73-74, 81. Elsewhere, Spengler writes that
Napoleon did not form the idea of revolution, but that the idea formed Napoleon.

56
me from the spot where I am planted by their far-seein& eye for what
the past has still to produce. 77 (Emphasis added.)
This satirical passage points up just how odd it is for history to be analogized with
plant life in any general way. R. G. Collingwood, offering a general critique of
Spengler, cites Spengler's "relapse into positivistic naturalism" as the main reason
for regarding his work as "radically unsound."78 As this positivistic-naturalism
translates into the analogy of cultures as organisms, Collingwood objects to the
analogy on several grounds, most importantly, that there is nothing historical about
cultural phases. 79 When cultures are conceived as closed entities, the historian is
blind to their interactions. 80 This recalls a memorable passage from Musil which
captures the Spenglerian view:
77Arnold Schoenberg, "The Young and I" (August 19-21, 1923), Style and
Idea, p. 94.
78R. G. Collingwood, The Idea of History (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1956), pp. 181-3.
79Adomo, Prisms, p. 68. Adorno makes the same point: "Thus the
fatalistic determinism of Spengler's conception of history masquerades as the
essence of a realm of freedom ...The result is a highly paradoxical constellation:
precisely because everything external becomes an image of the internal and because
the crucial question no longer involves a real process between subject and object,
the world seems to grow organically out of the substance of the soul like a plant
from a seed. By reducing history to the essence of the soul, Spengler gives it the
appearance of a self-contained entity, yet one which for that very reason is actually
deterministic. "
80See Peter Munz, The Shapes of Time (Middletown: Wesleyan University
Press, 1977), pp. 275-7. Munz echoes Collingwood in that Spengler's Cultures
are "functionally integrated systems." The emphasis on functionalism precludes
meaning for historical narrative. As Munz states: "Spengler failed completely to
explain why, for example, Apollonian culture preceded Faustian culture and how
the two could be related."

57
The two periods look different. The present looks proudly down
upon the past. which if it had happened to occur later. would have
looked proudly down upon the present. 81
Popper traces Spengler's approach back to Plato. citing Plato's organicist metaphor
that he lived "in the season of degeneration" which became a point of departure for
The Republic. By Popper's time. the theory of evolution problematized the analogy
between history and the life cycle because evolutionary events are unique to a
species. and are not - in total contradiction to Spengler - predictive of change.
Spengler's analogy breaks down from within and without. and begins to diverge
from Nietzsche and Goethe. What Spengler took for cyclical forces in Nature tum
out to be irrational forces with the capacity to overwhelm the special vibrancy of the
present.
Spengler's organicist explanation of Culture is also reminiscent of late
nineteenth-century thought on music which suggests a contagious analogy: How
are music and history related to each other vis-a.-vis their common relation to
Nature? Is a composition like a Culture, like an organism? Are the Grundgestalt
and the Soul more like the seed or the Primal Plant? That which is dogma in
Spengler's concept of organicism in history. is probably intended as no more than
suggestive for Schoenberg. or Webem, in proposing a metaphor for compositional
unity. It might seem surprising. but in a short essay - switching from the plant to
animal kingdom - Schoenberg writes:
It can be said that the egg contains everything of that what (sic)
will constitute later a creature. It would be wrong to contend that the

81Musil, The Man Without Qualities, vol. I, p. 498.

58
same is the case with a motive. It has perhaps not more relation to
the composition than the astronomical constellation has to the future
of a man: there are some possibilities given and some restrictions:
but it remains to be seen how this man will use these chances or
escape those menaces; and thus it remains to be seen what will
become of a motive.82

In this musical version of nature vs. nurture, Schoenberg, unlike Spengler, is

willing to admit contingency into the process. On this point, Schoenberg's essay
separates itself from Spengler's view, and disengages Schoenberg's view from a
confusing aspect of Goethe concerning necessity and possibility. Looking again at
Goethe's Italian Journey, we find the concept "inner necessity," as invoked later by
Schoenberg and Kandinsky, alongside that of "possibility:"
The Primal Plant is going to be the strangest creature in the
world, which Nature herself shall envy me. With this model and the
key to it, it will be possible to go on forever inventing plants and
know that their existence is logical; that is to say, if they do not
actually exist, they could, for they are not the shadowy phantoms of
a vain imagination, but possess an inner necessity and truth.
(Emphasis added)83
Customarily, artists speak of 'inner necessity' in the particular, as a relation among
elements in a single work that acquire a sense of necessity, rather than as a basic
form for the generation of countless possible works. As we shall see in the next
82Schoenberg, "It Can Be Said... " unpublished MS, Archives of the
Arnold Schoenberg Institute, 3pp. Cf. "Linear Counterpoint," (1931) Style and
Idea, pp. 289-95. This view is quite different from Schoenberg's earlier (1931)
view that "all the shapes appearing in a piece of music are foreseen in the theme."
Theme and motive are not the same, and being able to foresee all the shapes
appearing in a piece of music is not the same as knowing the sequence in which the
will appear or what role they will play in the form.
83Goethe, The Italian Journey (Harmondswortb: Penguin, 1970), pp. 31011. Goethe seems to have in mind a thought we understand nowadays in terms of
designer genes.

59
chapters, there are both fonnalist and historicist ovettones to this usage. The
customary usage argues for the uniqueness and originality of an works. Between
the time of Goethe and Schoenberg the notion of 'inner necessity' begins to veer
closer to the world of history than to the world of nature (which in Spengler
overlap). But Schoenberg's musings on the egg and the creature are not directed
against Spengler per se. What is directed at Spengler might well have been
provoked by a passage such as the one below:
The last of the Faustian ans died in Tristan ... As a step, it is
necessarily the last step. An artificial an has no funher organic
future, it is the mark of the end.
And the bitter conclusion is that it is all irretrievably over with the
ans of form of the West...the Faustian an dies of senility, having
actualized its inward possibilities and fulfilled its mission with the
course of its Culture.
What is practised as an today - be it music after Wagner or
painting after Manet ... - is impotence and falsehood ... Here in our
world-cities, we find a pursuit of illusions of anistic progress, of
personal peculiarity, of "the new style," of "unsuspected
possibilities," theoretical babble, pretentious fashionable anists,
weight-lifters with cardboard dumb-bells - the "literary Man" in the
Poet's place, the unabashed farce of Expressionism, which the antrade has organized as a "phase of an-history," thinking and feeling
and forming as industrial an ... So it has been in the Last Act of all
Cultures. 84
Here Spengler violates the allied purposes of Goethe's method and Nietzsche's
critical history. What Spengler saw in his contemporary culture lost the character of
a living creative experience for him. For Schoenberg, Spengler could not have
expressed a more benighted assessment of contemporary culture not only from the

84Spengler, The Decline of the West, pp. 155-6. From Schoenberg's

annotations in his copy of Spengler, it is clear that he was aware of Spengler's
musical conservatism from Spengler's account of Monteverdi and the "introduction
of thirds and sixths" which Spengler characterizes as "distant" dissonances.

60
standpoint of aesthetics. but from the standpoint of history as well. 8S This is key to
reading Schoenberg's 1923 essay "Those Who Complain About the Decline" in
which Schoenberg lumps Spengler and Schenker together as two representative
figures who lack "creative talent" because, we infer, they are disaffected from the
vitality of their times. 86 Critical, Antiquarian and Monumental history in excess all
have the same ultimate effect with respect to the subordination of the present to the
past. 87 In this essay, Schoenberg treats Spengler as nothing more than a poor
music critic whom society has mistaken for a prophet by confusing Spengler's
maladapted vision for an authentic artistic one. Out of context, Schoenberg's essay
comes across as excessively shrill, placing too much stress on Spengler's adulation
by the public and not enough on dismantling Spengler's arguments. In context, the
question of public infatuation with Spengler and the ideas he promoted was a cause
for Schoenberg to be alarmed. Clearly he was alarmed at the promulgation of a

85See Ismar Schorsch. From Text to Context: The Tum to History in

Modem Judaism (London: Brandeis University Press. 1994). Historical
consciousness emerged in Judaism in the early nineteenth century as Wissenschaft
des Judentums for the express purpose of revitalizing Jewry and facilitating its
adaptation to modernity. A comparison between the works of Oswald Spengler and
Heinrich Graetz reveals the antithesis.
86Creative vitality is a common theme for Goethe, Nietzsche and
Schoenberg without meaning exactly the same for each. Goethe refers to the
fecundity of nature and Nietzsche to a primordial life force. For Schoenberg we
observe his creative vitality tied in directly to his artistic activities.
87See The Ber&-Schoenberg Correspondence (New York: Norton. 1987).
p. 445. Elsewhere Riemann is also lumped together with Spengler. The editors
note a remark Schoenberg wrote on page 234 of his copy of Karl-Friedrich
Muckle's, Der Geist def jiidischen Kultur und das Abendland: "This is pure
swindle (just like Spengler, Chamberlain, Riemann and this breed of scholar) ... "

61
mindset in which the present necessarily represented a state of decay. There was a
sense as well that Spengler's work perverted the shared tradition, or worse, his
work would impair the tradition. 88 Musil's approach is to attack Spengler's work
as symptomatic of both the superficiality of its age and the distorted version of the
tradition Spengler reveres. 89
Spengler's critical excess signified to Schoenberg and Musil a loss of
contact with the vitality of his contemporaneous culture and thereby a loss of
contact with his mentors Goethe and Nietzsche. To be a critic of one's own age is
not necessarily bad. Karl Kraus was certainly a timely critic, but one who attacked
the superficiality and hypocrisy of his times rather than surrendering to them to
await a new age. With Robert Musil still other issues arise from the encounter with
Spengler which clarify not just differences with Spengler, but commonalities with
Schoenberg. Hannah Hickman summarizes Musil's view of Spengler with an
emphasis on how Spengler skews the history of mathematics to fit his organicist

88See Hans Kohn, The Mind of Germany (1960), p. 330. Kohn, in

separating Goethe and Nietzsche from the mentality of the Third Reich, wrote
plainly: "In reality, Spengler had no affinity with Goethe and distorted Nietzsche."
Kohn would make of Goethe an honorary American, and tries to maximize the
difference between Goethe (as a German Ben Franklin) and Spengler, who taught
"submission to the irrational forces of History."
89Musil, "Mind and Experience," Precision and Soul, p. 139.

62
metaphors.90 Musil's writing on Spengler, which weighs the merits and
insufficiencies of empirical and analogical-intuitive ways of thinking, forms the
groundwork for his conceptualization of the nonratioid.
Musil waged his "attack" against Spengler in his essay "Mind and
Experience" (1921). The fIrst issue Musil addresses concerns the lowly status
Spengler accords empirical or quantifIable content as opposed to the vaunted
intuitive-analogical way of thinking. Empirical knowledge, in Spengler's view,
unlike intuition does not result from "dynamic activity," nor does it translate
between cultures. Spengler's underlying proposition which Musil disputes is that
"nature is a function of culture." To bolster his claim that empirical content cannot
be shared cross-culnlrally, Spengler appeals by analogy to non-Euclidean
geometries. Before debunking it. Musil entertains Spengler's proposition in
hypothetical fonn:
.. .if it were possible to show not only that the essence of space is
experienced differently in every culture, but also that it actually is
different...the claim that nature is a function of culture would as it
were, be demonstrated together with its roots. 91

90Hannah Hickman, Robert Musil and the Culture of Vienna (LaSalle:

Open Court, 1984), pp. 112-17. See also Louis Danz, "Schoenberg the Inevitable,"
Schoenberg. ed. Merle Armitage (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1937), pp.207-14.
Danz misappropriates Spengler's view of mathematics -- that its logic presupposes
the notion of destiny - and its history to argue the inevitability of Schoenberg's
twelve-tone path. The mathematical instinct Spengler found expressed in a Gothic
cathedral or a boomerang, Danz fmds in the "neural mathematics" instinctively
expressed in Schoenberg's music.
91Musil, "Mind and Experience," Precision and Soul, pp. 137-8.

63
In Musil's view, Spengler intends to blur the demarcation between "subjective and
objective factors in knowledge" in order to subordinate facts to the positivistnaturalist scheme. "Why is it," asks Musil, "that even a monkey can use a lever or
a stone as if he knew the theories of statics and the strength of materials?"92
Knowledge may be in part a function of CUlture, but Nature is not. Musil makes
this distinction in his conclusion about the hypothesis concerning the essence of
space:
Thus Spengler is right not only that there are a number of different
mathematical-physical spaces, but also that the "variety of different
ways of seeing" that he claims does indeed exist; he is mistaken only
in taking this to be a new basis for spatial theory. Here again he has
taken the point of departure of an intellectual task for its conclusion.
If he did not regard "the foolish methods of experimental
psychology" as one of his unworthy "hunting grounds for mediocre
minds," and epistemological studies as "academic trivia," it would
not have been so easy for him to make this mistake. "93
Though Musil is eager to champion the achievements of empirical science especially against the intuitive mind which "doubts mathematics but believes in arthistorical fabrications of truth like culture and style."94 - he is not reluctant to
concede the stultifying aspects of empiricism either. In the very next section of the
essay, Musil admits "the narrowness," "the Philistinism" and philosophical
"sluggishness" of empirical research, and that past successes have earned for it notentirely-justified high expectations. Empiricism lacks dynamism both by definition

92Ibid., p. 137.
93Ibid., pp. 138-9.
94Ibid., p. 146.

64
in that it aspires to fonn categories of consistency and order that stand outside the
dynamics of a Culture, and by practice in that the enterprise requires unlimited
supplies of doggedness. This is a look at science in its worst light, but not for
Spengler's sake. Musil is attempting to go beyond these questions, in order to
explain a way of thinking and an experience of thought that is precise without
transforming the qualities of human experience into so much data. Musil introduces
his notion of essay ism below:
When we read Emerson, Maeterlinck, or Novalis -- [ count even
Nietzsche in this company, ... we experience the most powerful
movement of the mind; but this cannot be called
knowing ... Representations in this area have not fIxed meaning but
are, rather, more or less individual experiences, which we
understand only insofar as we recall similar experiences .. .Ideas are
always like that when they do not have a fIrm basis in what can be
perceived through the senses, or in the purely rational, but rest
instead on feelings and impressions that are difficult to
reproduce ... The moment we enter this territory, logical method
reveals itself as dethroned. The higher a thought stands in this
realm. the more the rational component retreats in relation to the
experiential component. For this reason [ once referred to this as the
"nonratioid realm." The pulsating idea replaces the rigid concept,
analogies appear in place of equations, probability in place of truth:
the essential construction is no longer systematic, but creative.95
On its face, this passage appears to throw its support back to Spengler, but
Spengler lacks the precision Musil requires.96 Musil does not trust the "authority in

95[bid., p. 140-1.
96T. W. Adorno, Prisms, pp. 53-72. Adorno expresses himself on the
effects of Spengler's positivistic-naturalism in "Spengler After the Decline" which
is chocked full of words and phrases such as: "impotent," "tyrannical,"
"elimination of potentiality," "to crush thought." All are antithetical to essayism.

65
a locked chest: ... the cistern of intuition."97 Nor does Musil accept the claim that
Goethe's intuition is Spengler's source:
Goethe, who admired Kant, loved Spinoza, and was a natural
scientist in his own right, was on better terms with the inductive
intellect than are the Goethean dwarves of our day. (His intuition is
much abused: in his scientific works one fmds no trace of that other
fonn of knowledge: for which he is so often claimed as a
confederate. )98
Spengler is the antithesis of the source in which Musil is really interested -- the
tradition of essayism. 99
Just as there is a wide range of writers in whose essays we experience this
"most powerful movement of the mind," there are composers besides Schoenberg
in whose music we experience a movement of the mind no less powerfully. But
Schoenberg and Musil are not just two contemporaneous artists who each in his
own medium might be said to be contributing works to a common tradition. What
joins Schoenberg and Musil at the hip in this "nonratioid" realm is not just their
contemporaneity, but the original way they sought to function in this realm. To
both conclude this chapter and begin this discussion in a general way, let us

consider one aspect of Schoenberg's and Musil's works which their critics have

97Musil, "Mind and Experience," Precision and Soul, p. 145.

98Musil, "Helpless Europe," Precision and Soul, p. 123.
99Stephen Toulmin, Cosmopolis: The Hidden Aienda of Modernity (New
York: The Free Press, 1990). Toulmin traces modernity through two strands:
sixteenth-century humanism via Montaigne, and seventeenth-century naturalism via
Descartes. The tradition of essayism, which takes experience as particular and
human, extends from Montaigne through Musil.

66
connected with essayism and the nonratioid: their incompleteness. There is an
ironic aspect to this observation. After listening to Schoenberg or reading Musil,
one is perhaps hypersensitive to the thinness or lack of resonance in other modem
works that are supposedly complete. Incompleteness in Schoenberg and Musil is
incompleteness in a very special sense: it is unboundedness. Like Goethe's desire
to "go on forever inventing plants," Musil's project denies completion as its
fulfillment.
In her book on Roben Musil, Manke Finlay quotes a remark Musil once

made to a friend about where the text of The Man Without Qualities (Musil left the
novel unfmished, and as Finlay adds, the novel is "unfinishable") should stop: "At
the end of a page in the middle of a sentence with a comma." I00 Although
Schoenberg intended to finish his works, he left many unfinished or fragmentary,
or as Adorno argues. with the characteristics of fragments. 101 As Finlay shows.
not only is The Man Without Qualities unfmished, but Musil intended the work to
be unbounded in a way that would throw emphasis not on plot resolution, but on
the processes of thought that evolve through the novel and that stem from a tenet

100Marike Finlay, The Potential of Modem Discourse: Musil. Peirce and

Perturbation (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990), p. 48.
IOISee Adorno, "Arnold Schoenberg, 1874-1951," Prisms (Cambridge: The
MIT Press, 1986), p. 171. Adorno writes of Schoenberg's late works as "a
paradigm of a possible music."

67
central to Schoenberg as well, namely: "the principle of art is infinite variation."I02
Schoenberg's writings, philosophical and pedagogical likewise stress variation cultivating possibilities, not exhausting them.
It would be wrong to speak of anyone kind of music as nonratioid music,
for instance, that only absolute music would be the equivalent of musical essayism.
The nonratioid is a realm in which we experience music in a way that is concerned
only partially with the musical and historical facts of a piece, only partially with
programmatic representations, if any, and only partially with the real-time aspects
of the piece, but which fully engages those processes and relationships which in the
work become memorable and resonant in the mind, that is, rich in association and
profound. Schoenberg's music lends itself to this kind of experience. As quoted
above, the musical motive does not "contain" its destiny. Thus as Schoenberg's
harmonies become ever more saturated with the (non-triadic) motive - a
consequence of the equalization of the vertical and horizontal dimensions as well as
the emancipation of the dissonance so characteristic of his music in the early 1920s -the more each phase of the composition represents an act of special creativity.
Goethean notions of limitless fecundity are antithetical to Spengler whose
very thesis is the periodic exhaustion of Culture. History then, conceived in terms
of Musil's essayistic mode of thought, becomes a profoundly different experience
of time from anything we have encountered in Spengler:

I02Musil, Gesammelte Werke II, 868. Quoted in Finlay, The Potential of

Modern Discourse, p.47.

68
The innennost core of the life of every age, an inchoate, swelling
mass, is poured into molds forged by much earlier times. Every
present period is simultaneously now and yet millennia old. This
millipede moves on political, economic, cultural, biological, and
countless other legs, each of which has a different tempo and
rhythm. One can see this as a unified picture and elaborate it in
tenns of a single cause by always keeping to a central perspective,
as Spengler does, but one can also find satisfaction in the exact
opposite. There is no plan in this, no reason: fme. Does that really
make it any uglier than if there were a plan? Is agnosticism
comfortable? It can be true or false, for it is a rational matter,
penetrating or superficial; but whether it is humanly profound or not
is no longer a quality of knowledge but rather one of those - in my
shorthand, nonratioid - complexes that arise on the base of such
rational convictions. 103 (Emphasis added.)
This statement of Musil's is not a repudiation of history, but a repudiation of the
kinds of historical consciousness that mistake what they "unify" for unity as it is
manifest in the world.

103Robert Musil, "Mind and Experience," Precision and Soul, p. 146.

69

CHAPTER II
ON HISTORICAL CONSCIOUSNESS AS AN IDEOLOGICAL SOURCE
Schoenberg made of the philosophy of history a threefold ideological
source: a source for defining his relationship to his own work, a source for the
legitimation of the works themselves, and a source for his personal identity as both
a "non-Aryan" German and Jewish composer in the German tradition. I On this
view, Schoenberg's philosophical engagement with history could be an impetus
and not an impediment to the creative imagination. Sitting down at his writing desk
with fresh manuscript paper, Schoenberg occupies a thoroughly historical situation
which he rationalizes in terms of an alchemy by which historical consciousness
stimulates, if not dictates, musical composition.
This angle on Schoenberg's historical consciousness is markedly different
from the one we took in the preceding chapter. With selected premises from

ISee Nathan Rotenstreich, Time and Meanin~ in History (Boston: D.

Reidel, 1987), pp. 175-205. By the expression "ideological source" we mean to
suggest that the source itself is determined historically; it is neither fixed nor
doctrinaire.

70
Hayden White's "The Burden of History," we attempted to place Schoenberg
among the artists of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries who repudiated
the subordination of creativity to history as demanded by a historical scholarship
whose outlooks Nietzsche subsumed under the categories: Monumental,
Antiquarian and Critical. Though useful in themselves these outlooks could be
carried to serious excess. Recognizing the excessive versions of the Monumental,
Antiquarian and Critical outlooks in Schenker, Riemann and Spengler respectively,
Schoenberg repudiated such fOnDS of historical consciousness as they led to
distortions of the shared tradition, and to alienation from immediate experience.
They therefore held no promise for the motivation of musical phantasy.
Schoenberg's view was akin to Musil's essayistic view in at least two important
respects: in the exploration and representation of the deepest strata of particular
experiences, and in a resistance to closure through ongoing variations throughout
all phases of the imperfectly bounded work. Essayism, in its overriding concern
with the cultivation of potentiality, goes hand in hand with the visionary's
projection of a future horizon, something which both Schoenberg and Musil
expressed, and something which is no less a topic for the historical imagination
than the past.

In light of this visionary aspect, the projection of a future horizon suggests

the strikingly different possibility that an artist's contemplation of his situatedness
in time can be a source for his creative enterprise rather than either an inhibition to it

71
or a mode of reflection upon it. 2 Endless philosophical speculation could follow
from an abstract consideration of this thesis. To address this thesis in historical
context, we shall take as our point of departure testimony from Sir Karl Popper, a
thinker whose negative assessment and critique of Schoenberg and his circle rests
upon artistic and sociological grounds, and arises from the thesis that: a "total
ideology,"3 based upon Hegel's philosophy of history and introduced to music by
Wagner, guided and even motivated Schoenberg's compositional practice.4 This
thesis raises an objection to Schoenberg similar to the objection Schoenberg raised
against Spengler, and thus assigns Schoenberg to the same hot seat Spengler

2See Reinhart Koselleck, Futures Past: On the Semantics of Historical

Time, trans. Keith Tribe (Cambridge: The MIT Press, 1985), p. 241. Koselleck
associates the unlimited projection of temporality with the removal of End of the
World from historical consciousness.
3See Karl Popper, "Against the Sociology of Knowledge (1945)," POL1per
Selections, ed. David Miller (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985), p.
367. See also Nathan Rotenstreich, Time and Meanin& in History (Boston: D.
Reidel, 1987), p. 203. Popper notes that a "total ideolo&,}''' is the term used by
sociologists of knowledge in reference to a "socially determined system" of
"apparently unquestionable assumptions." Rotenstreich emphasizes the "partialness
of ideologies" because changing circumstances demand the revision of ideological
principles.
4See Paul Lawrence Rose, Wa&ner: Race and Revolution (New Haven:
Yale University Press, 1992), p. 29. Wagner's greatest philosophical influence is
generally thought to be Schopenhauer. But Popper is not off the mark in his view
that Wagnerian ideology owed a debt to Hegel, and that Wagner transmitted a
version of Hegelian ideology to German musical culture at large. Hegel's work
occupied Wagner from the early Leipzig years until he left Dresden, the period 18311849.

72
occupied as a historicist "attempting to predetennine history."s We tum then to
Popper, as a figure on the periphery of the Schoenberg Circle, but central to
twentieth-century thought on historicism.
In his autobiography, Popper tells us that "between the autumn of 1920 and
perhaps 1922" he thought seriously about a career in music.6 Under the spell of
Mahler's music, and out of respect for Mahler's defense of Schoenberg, Popper
involved himself with the Schoenberg circle. He chose to study composition with

SSee Karl Popper, The Philosophy of Karl Popper, The Library of Living
Philosophers, vol. 14, book 2, ed. Paul A. Schilpp (LaSalle: Open Court, 1974),
pp. 1172-3. See also Richard Taruskin, "Does Nature Call The Tune" (The New
York Times Sunday, September 18, 1994) and Herbert Lindenberger, "Arnold
Schoenberg's Der biblische Weg and Moses und Aron: On the Transactions of
Aesthetics and Politics," Modem Judaism 9 (1989): 55-70. Popper explains that
during his student years Marxists and fascists both claimed history was on their
side, a position necessarily antithetical to democracy. Schoenberg and the artistic
movements he engendered have been criticized for hegemonic claims upon history for being nationalist and authoritarian. Consequently, the music has come to be
seen as a by-product of bad ideology. Recently critics Taruskin and Lindenberger,
to name just two, have raised these charges again.
6Popper, The Philosophy of Karl Popper, bk. 1, p. 41. See also Herbert
Kiesewetter, Von Hegel zu Hitler: eine Analyse der He~elschen
Machtstaatsideolo~ie und der politischen Wirkun~s~eschichte des
Rechtshegelianismus (Hamburg: Hoffmann und Campe, 1974), pp. 194ff., 215.
Kiesewetter describes the climate out of which the Hegel-renaissance of the 1920s
evolved.

73
Schoenberg's student Erwin Stein. 7 with whom he had a few lessons. and to join
and participate actively in the Verein fUr musikalische Privatauffiihrun~en attending
and helping out with rehearsals.8 So the young Popper, an avowed conservative
who thought of Schubert as the last "really great" composer. found a willingness to
learn about and even made an attempt to "like" new music. During that time he got
to know intimately diverse works, such as Schoenberg's Kammersymphonie
(presumably Opus 9). Pierrot Lunaire, Webem's Orchestersrucke (presumably
Opus 10) and music of Berg's. The result:
After about two years I found I had succeeded in getting to know
something -- about a kind of music which now I liked even less than
I had to begin with. So I became. for about a year. a pupil in a very
different school of music - the department of Church music in the
Vienna Konservatorium. 9

7See Erwin Stein. Praktischer Leitfaden zu Schonbergs Harmonielehre: ein

Hilfsbuch filr Lehrer und Schiiler (Vienna: Universal Edition. n.d.). See also
Arnold Schoenberg. Theory of Harmony. trans. Roy Carter (Los Angeles:
University of California Press. 1983). p. xiii and H. H. Stuckenschmidt. Arnold
Schoenberg: His Life. World And Work. trans. Humphrey Searle (London: John
Calder. 1977). p. 442. Erwin Stein was a central figure in the Schoenberg Circle.
On Schoenberg's authority. Stein wrote a guide to the Harmonielehre at the same
time Popper was his student. In an essay transcribed by Stuckenschmidt. "A
Question of Priority" (original in English. undated. Archives of the Arnold
Schoenberg Institute). Schoenberg identifies Stein as the first person he told about
the method of twelve-tone composition in 1921.
8The music Popper says he heard during these years is in full agreement
with the programs of the Verein which functioned both as a society for the
presentation of new music (not "promotion" because the Verein excluded the press)
and. according to Richard Hoffmann. as a "make-work opportunity" for musicians
unemployed after the war.
9Karl Popper. The Philosophy of Karl Popper, bk. 1, p. 42.

74
Ramifications of the historicism Popper encountered exceeded matters of musical
taste; the encounter with the Verein made a significant impression on Popper
intellectually, albeit negative. Historicism, in Popper's view, governed all the
workings of the Verein. Amidst the artistic and social milieu of this elite and closed
society, Popper's critique of the complex of ideas that he nominally defined as
"historicism" began to take shape. Over thirty years later, in 1957. Popper first
published his systematic critique of historicism in the social sciences as The Poverty
of Historicism. 10 His critique of historicism in music and art arises from his
experience, and we shall investigate the salient points of the critique here in
conjunction with examples from Schoenberg and Musil which are representative of
the kinds of thinking Popper attacks. I I
Historicism can be practiced in more than one way. Its two basic
approaches are the pronaturalistic and the antinaturalistic. As Alan Donagan
summarized them vis-a-vis the social sciences: the pronaturalistic approach to the
social sciences is both empirical and theoretical in its concerns with observable
results, repeatable testing and generalizable laws, and is essentially modeled after
the physicist's approach in the natural sciences; the antinaturalistic approach holds
that laws derived from particular historical and cultural contexts are not

IOKarl Popper, The Poverty of Historicism (London: Routledge & Kegan

PaUl, 1957; reprint ed., London: Ark Paperbacks, 1986).
I ISee E.H. Gombrich, "The Logic of Vanity Fair: Alternatives to
Historicism in the Study of Fashions, Style and Taste," The Philosophy of Karl
Popper, bk. 2, pp. 951-5. Gombrich attempts a Popperian alternative to historicist
accounts of art and music.

75
generalizable, a situation which consequently renders prediction "impure" and
"inexact," and translation - from quantitative social data into laws binding on
"qualitative entities," such as music societies -- difficult. 12 Intuition and analogy,
just as we saw in the case of Spengler, are the modes of inquiry, explanation and
prediction for antinaturalistic historicism. Both pronaturalistic and antinaturalistic
historicisms espouse a doctrine of progress, even if each takes the measure of
progress quite differently on account of their very different methodological
sources.!3 From Popper's standpoint in the Verein of the early 1920s, Schoenberg
stands at the head of both antinaturalistic and pronaturalistic trends in music
respectively as both an expressionist and twelve-tone serialist. Let us take each in
turn to follow Popper's reasoning.
Pronaturalistic historicism asserts laws of causal development that have an
explanatory power over the succession of past events, as well as predictive value
for future events. Such laws could predetermine the future in terms of "large-scale
forecasts," but run afoul the more narrow the prediction. Musil expresses his own
version of Popper's criticism of the pronaturalistic doctrine which we could apply
to thinkers such as Bentham and Holbach, or even Comte and Marx. And it is
some such German counterpart of this kind of radically enlightened historicist

12Alan Donagan, "Popper's Examination of Historicism," The Philosophy

of Karl Popper, pp. 905-24.
I3Popper is reminiscing about a time in the early 1920s, well before
Schoenberg's attempt to spell out in musical terms a musical concept of progress in
"Brahms the Progressive" (1933, rev. 1947). For now we are interested in the
notion of progress in terms of Popper's view of the Schoenberg Circle.

76
thinking that both Schoenberg and Musil represent satirically. In "Gustav Mahler,"
one of the lengthier essays, Schoenberg mocks the condition of being modem in
contrast to the condition of truly belonging to the future:
One is modem - that is enough. Eventually, one is even
ultramodern - that makes one interesting. One has a programme,
principles, taste. One knows what it is all about. One knows all the
critical cliches. One knows exactly what are the current trends in
art. Yes, one could almost establish in advance the very problems
and methods with which the art of the immediate future will have to
concern itself, and I am only surprised that no one has yet hit upon
the idea of combining all these possibilities and concocting a guidebook to the future. 14 (Emphasis added.)
In this passage from The Man Without Qualities, Musil adopts the same stance
though he places his assessment of historicism in a scientific context:
About a hundred years ago, you see, the leading brains in
German civilian life believed that a man using his head could deduce
the world's laws while sitting at his desk, like so many geometric
theorems about triangles. And the typical thinker in those days was
a man in homespun who tossed his long hair back from his forehead
and hadn't even heard of the oil lamp, much less of electricity and
the phonograph. Such arrogance has been purged out of our system
since then; in these last hundred years we've become much better
acquainted with ourselves and with nature and everything, but as a
result, the better we understand things in detail, the less we
understand the whole, as it were, so what we get is a great many
more systems of order and much less order over all. 15
While acknowledging the growth of knowledge over the past century, Musil views
this kind of historicism as a zero-sum game that possesses no computational
efficacy toward calculating the future, and therefore makes no progress. The

14Amold Schoenberg, "Gustav Mahler" (1912, 1948), Style and Idea, p.

453.
15Musil, The Man Without Qualities, vol. 1, p. 411.

77
principal objection Popper raises about Schoenberg-the-pronaturalist is that
Schoenberg was overly concerned with an ideology not of fashion, but of progress,
with an historicist outlook. As Popper was on hand for the early days of twelvetone serial composition, it was the tum toward serialism that he took to be the prime
source for the formalistic calculation of the music of the future. Popper writes:

.. .1 would not now contend that there are nOL.pernicious creeds,

and among them some anti-expressionist creeds, which have led to
all kinds of formalistic experiments from serialism to musiQue
concrete. All these movements, however.. .largely result from the
historicist attitude towards "progress."16
We shall return to a fuller quotation of this passage below. From the partial quote
above we see that Popper views serialism as the result of a pronaturalistic historicist
program which claims to have determined the next step along the path of musical
"progress." Given the vaunted rhetoric surrounding the discovery of twelve-tone
serialism, one can hardly ignore the connection between the formal aspects of the
method and its imputed significance for the future. The most familiar version of
this story of the discovery of twelve-tone serialism is reported by Willi Reich:
It was in the summer of 1921, during a stroll in the country at
Traunkirchen, that Schoenberg first talked - to his pupil Josef Rufer-about the twelve-tone music he had been developing. He declared,

16Popper, The Philosophy of Karl Popper, bk. 1, p. 54.

78
'I have made a discovery thanks to which the supremacy of German
music is ensured for the next hundred years.'17
This was a whopping prediction to make based on a discovery that defied
prediction. Magnifying the historicist position, Schoenberg, if earnest in his
declaration, is not only making a prediction, but positing a definite beginning and
forecasting an approximate end to a new musical era. This extension of historicism
is alien to the experience of history as punctuated, accelerating and transitional.
Rufer's anecdote implies a slowing of the pace of historical change. In fact, the
tenor of this quote is totally alien to the view of historical experience represented by
the liberal Viennese-Jewish subculture from which Schoenberg originated. Thus
the most famous anecdote is also the most egregious. Popper properly chastises
Schoenberg for historicism, but Schoenberg, again if speaking in earnest, should
also be chastised for assuming a false posture. Supremacy was never the point.
The rhetoric of supremacy upon which Hitler later drew, was neither consonant
with Schoenberg's historical experience nor a fitting source from which to draw.

l1Willi Reich, Schoenber&: A Critical Bio~aphy, trans. Leo Black (New

York: Praeger Publishers, 1971), p. 130. See also Stuckenschmidt, Arnold
Schoenber&, p. 277. Perhaps this is the most notorious Schoenberg anecdote of
all, especially in the way it has been conflated with quotes from Hitler such as: "In
the Jewish capitalist age the Nationalist Socialist state stands out as a solid
monument to common sense. It will survive for a thousand years." Berlin, May 4,
1941. Quoted by Martin Gilbert, The Second World War: A Complete History,
rev. ed. (New York: Henry Holt and Co. 1985), p. 179. "This war no longer
bears the characteristics of former inter-European conflicts. It is one of those
elemental conflicts which usher in a new millennium and which shake the world
once in a thousand years. Berlin, April 26, 1942. Quoted in Bartlett's Familiar
Quotations, 16th ed., edited by Justin Kaplan (London: Little, Brown and Co.,
1992), p. 676.
II

79

Concurrent with the pronaturalistic historicism associated with the discovery

of the new method of composition with twelve-tones in the early 1920s, there was a
preexisting and entrenched antinaturalistic historicism with a source of its own.
With antinaturalistic historicism. progress arises from instinct rather than from
calculation. And continuing in his autobiography, we see that even though
Popper's objection to an ideology of progress encompasses both the pro- and
antinaturalistic aspects, his concluding thesis is an indictment directed primarily at
antinaturalistic historicism. Here is a fuller quotation of the passage quoted above:
... the indirect influence of [Beethoven's] tempestuous
personality and the attempts to emulate him led, I believe, to a
decline in music. It still seems to me that this decline was brought
about largely by expressionistic theories of music. But I would not
now contend that there are not other equally pernicious creeds, and
among them some anti-expressionist creeds, which have led to all
kinds of formalistic experiments from serialism to musique concrete.
All these movements, however, and especially the "anti-"
movements, largely result from that brand of "historicism" ... and
especially from the historicist attitude towards "progress."
My thesis is that the doctrine of art as self-expression is merely
trivial, muddleheaded and empty - though not necessarily vicious,
unless taken seriously. when it may easily lead to self-centered
attitudes and megalomania. But the doctrine that the genius must be
in advance of his time is almost wholly false and vicious, and opens
up the universe of art to valuations which have nothing to do with
the values of art.l 8
Though elsewhere Popper states explicitly that it is Wagner who is the "main villain
of the piece," it is Schoenberg that Popper has sighted in his cross hairs on both
counts of pro naturalistic historicism borne of formalism, and antinaturalistic
historicism borne of self-expression. In Popper's formulation of these historical-

18Karl Popper, The Philosophy of Karl Popper, bk. I, p. 54.

80
aesthetic modes appears unembraceable by a single artist who would have to
occupy both the arctic and tropic zones of art at the same time. 19
Negative reaction to Schoenberg's antinaturalistic historicism soon led
Popper to advance systematic attacks against both Hegel's concept of a World
Historical Spirit and Wagner's ideology, elements of which Popper took to be in
the foreground of Schoenberg's ideology, namely: subjectivism, expressivism,
progressivism, megalomania and elitism. To reconstruct Popper's reasoning
against these aspects of historicism, we turn again to Popper's account of the
Verein years.
Two incipient ideas, shaped during Popper's Verein years and germane to
his view of Schoenberg, grew ever more entwined: the idea of applying the terms
"objective" and "subjective" to the ways in which a composer relates to his or her
own work, and the idea that historicist ideologies are a harmful basis for artistic
practice. In regard to the first idea, the basis for a subjective relationship between
the composer and the work is the thesis that art is a matter of self-expression;

19See Carl Dahlstrom, Strindbere's Dramatic Expressionism (New York:

Benjamin Blom, Inc., 1965). The situation as Popper paints it accurately reflects
the aesthetics of Expressionism which calls for highly objective representations of
extreme situations and psychological states.

81
Popper calls this thesis "trivial."20 Since self-expression is more or less present in
all behavior, to make it the focal point or definitive characteristic of art is as "empty"
as it is common to all language and gesture. 21 In his youth, Popper regarded
Bach's relationship to his work as objective, and cited the course of study Bach
proposed on the title page of the Inventions as the paradigm for the pursuit of
objectivism in music. Bach charged the student to direct his attention: toward the
work, toward the fittingness of the musical materials, and toward the possibilities
for composition suggested by the materials. On the other hand, Beethoven's
relationship to his own work was subjectivist, at least for the composers who made
an idol of Beethoven's persona and saw themselves as writing in its shadow.
Beethoven, as an idol, was in Popper's view, a stumbling block. It was principally
Wagner's romantic misreading of Beethovenian subjectivism that undercut the
practice of objective musical problem solving and became the ideal for Schoenberg
and his circle.

20See R. G. Collingwood, The Principles of Art (Oxford: Oxford

University Press, paperback, 1958), pp. 195-224 and Charles Taylor, "The
Expressivist Tum" Sources of the Self (Cambridge: Harvard University Press,
1989), pp. 368-92. Based on Collingwood and Taylor, one might reply that Popper
trivializes a thesis which posits a multifarious inner nature and deems its exploration
and struggle for outward expression key to the process of the fonnation of modem
identity. Popper challenges Collingwood, whose philosophy of art is based on
expression.
21Cf. R. G. Collingwood, The Principles of Art (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1938; Oxford: Oxford University Press paperback, 1958), p. 285. In
contrast to Popper's view, Collingwood upholds self-expression in art: "Every
utterance and every gesture that each one of us makes is a work of art."

82

In regard to the second idea. which concerns the bann of historicist

ideologies in art. Popper attests to how in the manner of Wagner (and Liszt too)
progressivism for its own sake became an obsession in the Schoenberg circle:
Schonberg started as a Wagnerian, as did so many of his
contemporaries. After a time his problem and that of many members
of his circle became, as one of them said in a lecture, "How can we
supersede Wagner?" or even "How can we supersede the remnants
of Wagner in ourselves?". Still later it became: "How can we
remain ahead of everybody else, and even constantly supersede
ourselves?". Yet I feel that the will to be ahead of one's time has
nothing to do with service to music, and nothing to do with genuine
dedication to one's own work.22
From Popper's standpoint, progressivism had become the motivating force among
Schoenbergians.23 In "The Young and 1," a satirical essay from 1923,
Schoenberg, while mocking modernism in the same vein as we saw above, tips his
hand and writes the kind of passage that Popper could cite as exhibiting a prevailing
preoccupation with newness and the future: "Earlier than I had foreseen, an
energetic younger generation with new tendencies and a new way of feeling, forces

22Popper, The Philosophy of Karl Popper, bk. 1, pp. 55-56. Cf.

Schoenberg, "My Evolution" (1949), Style and Idei!, p. 80. Contrary to Popper,
Schoenberg writes that he was at fIrst a "Brahmsian" until ca. 1897 when he met
Zemlinsky from whom he acquired an enthusiasm for both Brahms and Wagner. It
is interesting, that Popper found Webem to be the exception with respect to the
general mindset of obsessive progressivism.
23Schoenberg to Miss Lee Glaser, 25 July 1944, Arnold Schoenberg
Archive, Library of Congress. Schoenberg rejected the title "Music of Tomorrow"
for the collection of essays published as Style and Idea by the Philosophical
Library.

83
me to examine the up-to-dateness and up-to-futureness of their and my
creations. "24 Though joking in this passage, the sense of belonging to the future is
a serious dimension of Schoenberg's historical consciousness and his
understanding of genius: "The truly great have always had to flee from the present
into the future, but the present has never belonged so completely to the mediocre as
it does today. "25 Despite Musil's negative appraisal of the man who in his
arrogance attempts to calculate the future, there occurs an entry in Musil's diary
from around 1936 - the same year Popper fIrst presented a preliminary version of
The Poverty of Historicism - which has the ring of Wagnerian ideology: "Thomas
Mann and people like him write for people who are here; I write for people who are
not (yet) here. "26 For both Musil and Schoenberg their inclinations toward the
future are grounded in a sense of self that is rich and unbounded requiring
projection into the future to achieve its full expression artistically. We shall return
to this idea with respect to our discussion of BiIdun& (self-formation). This sense
of being ahead of one's time might also be understood as a tactic for surviving
perilous times. In 1932, Musil wrote the essay "Ruminations of a Slow-Witted

24"The Young and I" (1923), Style and Idea, p. 92.

25Arnold Schoenberg, "Gustav Mahler" (1912, 1948), Style and Idea, p.

452.
26Robert Musil, Ta~ebuch., p. 880. (Heft 34, ca. 1936) Quoted in Marike
Finlay, The Potential of Modem Discourse: Musil. Peirce. and Perturbation
(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990), p. 88. See Elias Canetti, The
Play of the Eyes, trans. Ralph Manheim, (New York: Farrar Straus Giroux,
1986), p. 187. Incidentally, we learn from Elias Canetti that Musil could be very
touchy on the subject of Thomas Mann.

84
Mind." This essay offers reflections on and falsifications of the claims made by the
Nazi party about Jewish influence upon modem society. Schoenberg - after first
hand experience in 1921 of a pogrom which forced him and his family to leave the
restricted vacation grounds by the Mattsee - had come to the same conclusion ten
years earlier.27 A preoccupation with the future might be the most appropriate and
surely the most optimistic response to a revulsion with the present, and in part,
Schoenberg and Musil may have been forced to be visionaries on account of their
times. Nevertheless, the projection of the future, especially for Schoenberg, is
essentially progressivist. But before going further on this point, we need to
address the social and political elements of Wagnerian ideology Popper attributes to
Schoenberg, and by extension, to Musil.
Accompanying Popper's ideas on subjectivism and historicism is his
assessment of an additional piece of Wagnerian baggage: the myth of the
megalomaniacal genius who, but for his indoctrinated coterie of elites, goes
neglected and unappreciated during his lifetime. The political magnetism that the
Wagnerian artist exerts, stems from the obsession with being ahead of his time, but
yet, by this romanticist obsession with being ahead of his time, he epitomizes his

27See Stuckenschmidt, Arnold Schoenberg, pp. 272-4 and Michael

Mackelmann, Arnold Schonberg und das Judentum (Hamburger Beitriige zur
Musikwissenschaft 28; Hamburg, 1984), p. 16. For broader context see Alexander
Ringer, Arnold Schoenberg: The Composer as Jew, (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1990), pp. 3-4,57. Mackelmann uses the word "pogrom" in his description
of the Mattsee incident.

85
times.28 Popper alludes to this dimension of the Wagnerian myth by focusing on
the progressivism of the Verein fUr Privatauffiirun&en which dedicated itself not to
new music, but to newness in music. To characterize Schoenberg's political
demeanor as despotic, Richard Taruskin, for one, indirectly quotes Paul Pisk, the
Verein's fIrst secretary, saying, that with respect to decisions made in the Verein,
"Schoenberg's opinions were the only ones the group entertained."29 Taruskin's
argument, one to which we shall return, is that Schoenberg's turn toward
neoclassicism was symptomatic of a return to a rigid monarchical social order
needed to cope with unemployment and poverty in the wake of World War I. a
situation that played to Schoenberg's autocratic tendencies. Stuckenschmidt quotes
Schoenberg's own description of his role as a "kind of dictator" of the Verein, a

28Schoenberg to Columbia Telex, 19 December 1936, Arnold Schoenberg

Archive, Library of Congress. illustrative of the mindset of the unappreciated artist
Schoenberg writes: "I fInd an author like myself, who has made history but
nevertheless has been neglected by the phonograph companies through more than
twenty years can not consider this as a worthy representation of his art." By 1936
the neglect was more real than myth in effect attesting to the truth of Karl Kraus's
aphorism: "A man gets so little recognition he could turn into a megalomaniac."
29Richard Taruskin, "The Dark Side of the Moon: The Sins of Toscanini,
Stravinsky, Schoenberg," The New Republic (September 5, 1988): 33. Taruskin
quotes a letter from Schoenberg to Prince Max von Fiirstenburg reminiscent of an
old social relation between artists and princes, a context, Taruskin implies, fIt
Schoenberg's neoclassical music. The work Schoenberg proposes to perform for
the Prince is the Serenade Opus 24, a work which is more a premonition of
Kristallnacht, is less neoclassical than the prosaic twelve-tone works, Opus 25, 26
and 29 that followed.

86
description that occurs in "A Four-Point Program for Jewry" (1938).30 As the
autocrat of a closed society, Schoenberg warrants the dismay of Popper, whose
great social theme is the "Open Society." But the Verein was a social-artistic
experiment lacking the mission of exaltation which distinguishes Bayreuth.3) If we
consider that the composers most often programmed were Reger and Debussy
among many others, that the operation was run on a shoestring, and that
Schoenberg was inclined to exclude his own works so as not to dominate the
programming, then the Wagnerian aspect of the Verein begins to recede. Willi
Reich argues that the success of the Verein experiment is evident by the several like
organizations that took the Verein for its model: the International Society for

30Alexander Ringer, Arnold Schoenbere: The Composer As Jew (Oxford:

Clarendon Press, 1990), pp. 230-44. "A Four-Point Program for Jewry," in
Schoenberg's original English, occurs as Appendix C.
31We shall come to another sense of "megalomania" with a special meaning
in terms of the philosophy of history besides the common usage of "selfexaltation. "

87
Contemporary Music (1922), the International Composers' Guild of New York
(1922), and the Verein fUr Privatauffiiruneen in Prague (1922), among others)2

The Musil Society was hardly political at all. Musil attracted a small loyal
circle of supporters formally known as the Musil Society.33 Though the Musil
Society provided Musil with measures of funding and appreciation, such societies
in general were to Popper potential pressure groups, like the Wagnerians, who
would make political ideology of art. With its membership composed almost
exclusively of Austrian Jews, the Musil Society wained with the rise of Nazism.
If being an ideological Wagnerian meant nothing more than holding the

notion of being ahead of one's time, and winning elite support, then we have seen
evidence on both counts. But as we look at more of the writings to which Popper
would have been exposed as a Verein member and student, Popper's formulation of
the two historicisms clarifies several distinct strands of how the projection of a
32Willi Reich, Schoenberg, p. 125. New music societies also preceded the
Verein. A society that endured until the beginning of World War I in Brussels was
Les Vinets. The organization was founded in 1893 for the purpose of educating the
public on the nature of avant-garde art. The twenty permanent members in art,
music and literature would invite twenty guest artists in art, music and literature for
exhibitions concerts and lectures. The Societe Musicale Independante, founded in
1910 by Faure, presented eclectic concerts of contemporary music. Festivals
featured English and American music. Honegger, Roussel and Schoenberg
"participated in special recitals devoted to their works." (Reich, p. 7) Ravel was
vice-president and later president. Durey, Hindemith, lbert, Milhaud and Turina
were composers also introduced.
33See Steven Beller, Vienna and the Jews 1867-1938: A Cultural History
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), p. 22. "According to Stella
Ehrenfeld, the reason why she and Graf Wilczek founded the Musil Society was
that they felt that the only major non-Jewish writer should be given some material
assistance and recognition for his almost unique achievement of being a great
Viennese writer and not Jewish."

88
future is expressed, even if the characterization of Schoenberg's enterprise as an
extension of Wagnerian ideology is not entirely fair.
Popper's key observation is that Schoenberg intertwined the subjective
stance toward his work, with a historicist doctrine of progress. As early as 1911,
the year the fIrst edition of the Harmonielehre was published, there was a situation
in which these two themes became entwined. In a letter dated December 21, 1911
from Berlin, Schoenberg writes to Berg in Vienna:
.. .1 am unusually depressed. Perhaps it's because of the revolting
news I hear from Vienna about my works, etc. But perhaps only
because I'm not composing anything at all right now. At any rate:
I've lost all interest in my works. I'm not satisfIed with anything
anymore. I see mistakes and inadequacies in everything. 34

Berg's reply, dated December 23, 1911, offers Schoenberg encouragement:

What you say about your divine works is dreadful! Oh, believe me,
Herr Schonberg, you can no longer judge what they signify, they
are already too far removed from you; something magnifIcent is
growing within you, your gaze is so fIxed on the future that you can
no longer see the past, indeed, perhaps no longer the present.3 5
According to Berg: Schoenberg was standing at a distance from his works,
something "magnifIcent" was growing within him, and his gaze was "fIxed" on the
future. Logically, Schoenberg's gaze must have been turned toward that inwardgrowing future, while the present and past were receding to the horizon.
(Schoenberg and Berg did not subscribe to the prevailing metaphor of time in which

34The Ber~-Schoenberg Correspondence, eds. Julianne Brand, Christopher

Hailey, Donald Harris (New York: W. W. Norton, 1987), p. 60 (Hereafter cited
as The Berg-Schoenberg Correspondence).
35Ibid., p. 61.

89
one imagines the future lying off in the distance. and the distant past lying along the
same continuum, just in the opposite direction.) When he received Schoenberg's
letter. Berg had already sent Wagner's autobiography to Schoenberg as a Christmas
present, and for the sake of Schoenberg's consolation and "enlightenment," was
glad he had. But Berg, knowing the location of Schoenberg's complaint should not
have been surprised by the response. Schoenberg. though grateful, did not think
that reading Wagner's autobiography was the cure:

If it were possible to find a cure for what I wrote you about through
encouragement and friendly concern from without, through friends
and through examples. then your lovely letter and your intention in
presenting me Wa~ner's Life as solace would no doubt be
successful. But this is an inner matter I have to deal with - or notby myself. I have experienced it very. very often before and it was
always followed by periods of self-delusion (as I must call it now)
that made life easier for me. That has nothing to do with success
and failure. It's a kind of persecution complex; an insi~ht can
persecute one too.36 (Emphasis added.)
"An inner matter," a persecuting insight: the details are mysterious, but the phrases
echo Berg's rhetoric though they invoke a cloak of privacy. Whether Schoenberg
felt oppressed by a strong signal from his super ego, or by some ability lost, or by
some artistic surge that would seem to present an insurmountable challenge, the
source of all this was inward. and the "insight" was significant insofar as it
suggested meaning for the future.
In 1979 at the third C. H. Boehringer Sohn Symposium. an
interdisciplinary gathering to consider structure in science and art, Karl Popper

36Ibid., p. 62.

90

again took the opportunity to express himself on the "pernicious" effects of the
ideology of historicism on art and used Schoenberg and his circle as his example:
Now, my thesis is this: art is at present strongly influenced by
ideologies. By ideology I mean here something that is not really
connected with art but linked to theories concerning other problems
and values; I have in mind especially theories which arose,
historically, very largely from Hegelianism and Marxism. The
question is, how much have these things really to do with the
fundamental aim of producing works which are the best works of
their kind which can be produced? ..1 am. probably the only one
present who knew Schoenberg personally and who knew his circle
quite well, and I must say I turned in disgust from this modernism
of Schoenberg, which involved constantly observins oneself, to see
whether one was going sufficiently fast beyond what had just been
reached (emphasis added). I do not mean that there is no possibility
of experimenting and finding new, important things. But there does
exist an attitude towards art and towards music which excludes this
historicist element as ideological and as foreign to the actual
problems of the artist. 37
Other symposium participants rushed to Schoenberg's defense. Alexander Goehr
pointed to Schoenberg's reverence for and careful study of the Viennese masters.
Charles Rosen cited evidence from Schoenberg's diaries to demonstrate
Schoenberg's reluctance to take the step of doing away with tonality, as well as
Schoenberg's distress when he would share discoveries with students who would
only push the new techniques too far and too fast. It is worth quoting Musil here
for his comments which dramatize Rosen's point on the anxiety of being influential:
As soon as some leading thinker comes up with an idea it is
immediately pulled apart by the sympathies and antipathies
31Peter Medawar and Julian Shelley, eds., Structure in Science and Art
(Amsterdam-axford-Princeton: Excerpta Medica, 1980). Popper, to the best of
my knowledge, does not attack Schoenberg on purely musical grounds, but rather
conducts a lateral assault, targeting an ideology linked with Schoenberg that Popper
finds odious namely Hegelianism.

91
generated: first its admirers rip large chunks out of it to suit
themselves, wrenching their masters' minds out of shape the way a
fox savages his kill, and then his opponents destroy the weak links
so that soon there's nothing left but a stock of aphorisms from
which friend and foe alike help themselves at will.38
On the other hand, there is no doubt that the threads of historicist ideologies were
expressed in the writings of Schoenberg, Webem, Berg and others. And if there
were ever a time an obsession with historical outlook was inescapable, it was in the
early 1920s, just those years Popper was in the circle. A review of passages from
the Theory of Hannony show Popper's observations to be trenchant.
Schoenberg's view in the Theory of Harmony begins with the notion of art
as the expression of the inner self. The artist is "constantly observing himself'
which compels him to express artistically something of a more general nature:
... what is most important about the individual, that most
profound introspection into and absorption with his own nature, that
which leads him to express: the nature of mankind.
What really matters, the ability to listen to oneself, to look deep

38Musil, The Man Without Qualities, vol. I, p. 412. In a similar vein, see
Schoenberg's introduction to Erwin Stein's Practical Guide to Schoenber~'s
Theory of Harmony quoted in TheoI)' of Harmony, p. xiii: "My TheoI)' of
Harmony is obviously much too long. Once its author is out of the way - the
living obstacle to judicious cutting - three quarters of the text must then surely go
by the board. For my part, this Guide, written at my own behest, is an attempt to
make even the remaining quarter unnecessary."

92

into oneself, that can hardly be acquired; certainly it cannot be

taught. 39 (1911)
Schoenberg's expressivism and essayism then come together to suggest a
conception of the future whose source is instinct, inner nature, and whose
expression suggests possible "paths to the future":
But I think that a person should study. The artist, perhaps, only so
that he will get into errors from which he must free himself...The
artist should also study because not everyone has to begin at the
beginning, not everyone has to experience fIrst-hand all the errors
that accompany the progress of human knowledge. One must and
may to a certain degree depend upon one's predecessors. Their
experiences and observations they have recorded in part in the
[literature of the various] sciences; but another part - I do not know
whether it is the most dependable or not -- lies in the unconscious,
in instinct. It is our right and duty to doubt. But to make ourselves
independent of instinct is as difficult as it is dangerous. For,
alongside [the knowledge of] what is right and what is wrong,
alongside the inherited experiences and observations of our
ancestors, alongside that which we owe to their and our past, there
is in the instinct perhaps a faculty that is only now bein~ developed:
a knowled~e of the future: perhaps also other faculties. which man
will one day consciously possess. but which at present he can at
most only sense and yearn for but cannot translate into action ...He
feels only the instinctual compulsion, which he must obey. And in
this instinct the old may find expression, and the new. Such as
depends on the past, and such as points out paths to the future. Old
truths or new errors. [It is] his musical nature, as he inherited it
from a musical ancestor or acquired it through the literature, but [it

39Theory of Harmony, pp. 412-13. See also Arnold Schoenber~ Wassily

Kandinsky: Letters. Pictures and Documents, ed. Jelena Hahl-Koch, trans. John
C. Crawford (London: Faber & Faber, 1984), p. 23. Schoenberg expressed
himself passionately on the "elimination of the conscious will in art" in his very first
letter, 24 January 1911, in reply to Kandinsky: "Every formal procedure which
aspires to traditional effects is not completely free from conscious motivation. But
art belongs to the unconscious! One must express oneself! Express oneself
directly! Not all these acquired characteristics, but that which is inborn,
instinctive. "

93
is] perhaps also the outflow of an ener~ that is seeking new paths
40 (1911) (Emphasis added.)
And to all of this, Schoenberg added, when he revised the Hannonielehre in 1920-

21, a Hegelian dimension to this line of thought. In the passage below, he again
invokes inner nature as the source which, as quoted above, will be the
instrumentality of change with respect to the latent possibilities of "sound." By
invoking spirit (Geist), rationality assumes its role as both instrumentality and goal
in the historical process of the mind's coming to know itself through music. 41
Schoenberg writes:
To future generations music like ours will seem incomplete, since it
has not yet fully exploited everything latent in sound, just as a son
of music that did not yet differentiate within the octave would seem
incomplete to us ...That change will come, if not in the manner that
some believe, and if not as soon. It will not come through
reasoning (aus Grunden), but from elemental sources (Ursachen); it
will not come from without, but from within. It will not come
through imitation of some prototype, and not as technical

4OSchoenberg, Theory of Hannony, pp. 415-16.

41See Nathan Rotenstreich, Time and Meaning in History (Boston: D.
Reidel, 1987), p. 71. Rotenstreich discusses the basic question: "What does spirit
or reason need the process for?" The objections Rotenstreich raises against
teleological doctrines parallel the objections Hegel raises against a teleological view
that would subsume an by reducing agents (or works) to "mere instruments," and
robbing them of their individual intrinsic value.

94
accomplishment; for it is far more a matter of mind and spirit (Geist)
than of material, and the Geist must be ready.42
Popper states the Hegelian view more baldly: "According to HegeL.man is not
creative. It is the hypostatized Objective Spirit, it is the divine self-consciousness
of the Universe, that moves man ... and [the work of individuals] is 'prepared and
appointed independently of them."'43 Oddly enough, as far as music is concerned,
Hegel is not much of a historicist. The connection Schoenberg draws between
Hegel's aesthetics of music and Hegel's philosophy of history is one which Hegel
did not make explicit in the discussion of music that occurs in the Lectures on Fine

Art. While Hegel discusses the nature of music at length, there is no trace of a
historical plan in the discussion. As far as Hegel is concerned, music has been
what it has been since the Pythagoreans determined the proportions underlying

42Theory of Harmony, pp. 423-4. Amplified c. 1920-21. See also Pamela

C. White, Schoenber~ and the God-Idea: The Opera Moses und Acon (Ann Arbor:
UMI Research Press, 1983), p. 69. In her study of the development of
Schoenberg's religious thought based on the holdings of Schoenberg's personal
library, Pamela C. White notes: "Of Hegel, no books at all!" Based on
Schoenberg's writings, as well as from testimony such as Popper's, the conclusion
that Hegel's thought held meaning for Schoenberg is inescapable.
43Karl Popper, "Knowledge: Subjective versus Objective" (1976), P012per
Selections, ed. David Miller (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985), p. 76.
Cf. Arnold Schoenberg, "Heart and Brain in Music" (1946), and "Gustav Mahler"
(1912, 1948), Style and Idei!, pp. 53-76,449,462. The artist-as-instrument is a
view variously expressed by Schoenberg: "Often enough inspiration intervenes
spontaneously and gives its blessing undemanded." (p. 56) "For the apostle does
not shine by himself, but by a light which uses his body merely as a shell; the light
pierces the shell, but it graciously grants the glowing one the appearance of shining
by himself." (p.449) "These are inspirations which escape the control of
consciousness, inspirations which come only to the genius, who receives them
unconsciously and formulates solutions without noticing that a problem has
confronted him." (p.462)

95
melody. harmony and meter. 44 Homophony is the norm which attains diversity
through special cases such as: the polyphony of J. S. Bach. opera. absolute music.
and even the tasteless battle music Hegel heard in his youth played by a linen
weaver on guitar. Though Hegel suggests music would develop in two directions.
toward depicting subject matters or toward "going its own way." Hegel suggests
no plan that is a function of history. This became the general task for a later
generation of founding musicologists.
Hegel's discussion of music dwells on the idea that music. melody
especially. is the "pure resounding of the inner Iife."45 To compose expressive
music the composer must be entirely absorbed in that which the inner self is striving
to express: "In the free exercise of imagination. liberation from restriction is an end
in itself... "46 This is Schoenberg's aesthetic too. yet one that required a historical
process to attain. Though Hegel does not set forth a historical plan for music.
Gadamer reminds us of the principal insight of Hegel's Lectures on Fine Art:

44See Leonard B. Meyer. Music, The Arts, and Ideas: Patterns and
Predictions in Twentieth-CentuQ' Culture (Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
1967) and Carl Dahlhaus. Foundations of Music HistoQ'. trans. 1. B. Robinson
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1983). p. 61. Hegel's view parallels
Leonard B. Meyer's view that music has been in a state of flux during the late
twentieth-century. It is a view opposed to Adorno's "conviction that musical
creation is 'historical through and through'" (quoted in Dahlhaus).
45G.W.F. Hegel. Aesthetics: Lectures on Fine Art. vol. 2. trans. T. M.
Knox. (Oxford: Clarendon Press. 1975; reprint ed . Clarendon Press. 1991). p.
938 (hereafter cited as Hegel. Aesthetics>.
46Hegel. Aesthetics. p. 897.

96
Here [in the Lectures on Fine Art1 the truth that lies in every anistic
experience is recognised and at the same time mediated with
historical consciousness. Hence aesthetics becomes a history of
world-views, i.e. a history of truth, as it is seen in the mirror of
art. 47
Hegel's thought on music hardly deviates from pure aesthetics and religion,
unmediated by historical consciousness. If we look elsewhere in the Lectures,
Hegel disabuses us of our presumptions that all art must be understood in terms of
purpose and progress as the truth-bearing vestiges of the World Historical Spirit's
developmental phases. In discussing the realm of poetry, in which Hegel is much
better versed than in music, he attacks the idea of teleology with respect to lyric
poetry as an unnecessary constraint upon its freedom:
The connection into which the parts are brought should not be a
mere teleological one. For in a teleological relationship, the end is
the independently envisaged and willed universal which can bring
into conformity with itself the paniculars through and in which it
gains existence, but these particulars it uses merely as means and it
robs them of all independently free existence and therefore of every
sort of life. In that event the parts come only into an intended
relation to the one end which alone is to be conspicuous as valid;
everything else this end subjects to itself and takes abstractly into its

47Hans-Georg Gadamer, Truth and Method (New York: Crossroad,

1985), p. 87.

97
service. This unfree relationship, characteristic of the
Understanding, is the very contrary of the free beauty of art.48
Music, in that it achieves an "inner unbounded freedom," is able to stand outside a
unified purposive historical process, a freedom Hegel advocates for poetry. As a
free, subjective, romantic art medium, music, unlike the other arts, is not part of the
objective historical world; historicizing music is then inappropriate because music is
too radically free to serve as a pillar of historical understanding. Music does not
require the process. Epic poetry, by contrast, lends itself to the embodiment of
history.
Can music acquire an epic dimension? When Hegel speaks of epic poetry
the connection between aesthetics and historical consciousness is plain:
... an epic poem as an actual work of art can spring from one
individual only. Although an epic does express the affairs of an
entire nation, it is only individuals who can write poetry, a nation
collectively cannot. The spirit of an age or a nation is indeed the
underlying efficient cause, but the effect, an actual work of art, is
only produced when this cause is concentrated into the individual
genius of a single poet; he then brings to our minds and
particularizes this universal spirit, and all that it contains, as his own
vision and his own work. For poetry is a spiritual production, and

48Hegel, Aesthetics, vol. 2, p. 983. See also Johann Wolfgang von

Goethe, "An Attempt to Evolve a General Comparative Theory (1790)," Goethe's
Botanical Writings, trans. Bertha Mueller, (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press,
1952), pp. 81-84. Hegel's view has resonance with Goethe's anti-teleological
view of nature: "We have been retarded in our philosophic views of natural
phenomena by the idea that living organisms are created and shaped to certain ends
by a teleological life force." To impute a teleology to nature is as constraining to
our understanding of nature as it is to our appreciation of art. This is surprising in
that Hegel and Goethe are often taken to represent thoroughly teleological positions.

98
the spirit exists only as an actual individual consciousness and selfconsciousness.49
The epic serves an historical function as the cornerstone of a national culture's
foundation, as does the Diad of Homer. Hegel gives no indication that during his
time, music served any similar function. National differences in music were
matters of taste, style and character rather than matters of national monumentality.
Popper criticizes the shift in music's position as it takes on a role like that of the
epic, and as musical works and arts institutions become cultural pillars imbued with
nationalist ideology. If nationalism entails a kind of self-expression writ large, the
point on which Popper begins his critique, then the problems with self-expression
are "trivial," until they reach epic proportion.
On Hegel's view, music has long attained freedom as pure subjectivity and
therefore stands outside history which is the manifestation of the Objective Spirit. 50
Schoenberg is acutely aware that musical expression can yet be emancipated, that
music requires the process, and that each composition represents a phase of the
process in microcosm. It is Schoenberg's job to work toward musical freedom,
which is both the goal of Hegel's philosophy of history and the natural condition of
music in Hegel's aesthetics. Thus freedom is the concept through which aesthetics

49Hegel, Aesthetics, vol. 2, p. 1049.

50Cf. Bryan Magee, The Philosophy of Schopenhauer (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1983), p. 177-88. Schopenhauer inverts this terminology so that
the inner experience of music would be considered objective, as opposed to the
events that constitute the phenomenal world.

99
dovetails with philosophy of history. The passage below from Hegel's
"Philosophical History" encapsulates the program for Schoenberg's enterprise:
It is the concrete spirit of a people which we have distinctly to
recognize, and since it is Spirit it can only be comprehended
spiritually, that is, by thought. It is this alone which takes the lead
in all the deeds and tendencies of that people, and which is occupied
in realizing itself - in satisfying its ideal and becoming selfconscious - for its great business is self-production. But for spirit,
the highest attainment is self-knowledge; an advance not only to the
intuition, but to the thought - the clear conception of itself.
The very essence of Spirit is activity; it realizes its potentiality makes itself its own deed, its own work -- and thus it becomes an
object to itself: contemplates itself as an objective existence. 51
While this is a passage that is not historically connected to Schoenberg, it does shed
some light on two recurring themes in Schoenberg's essays, intuition and thought.
We have previously described two kinds of intuition: grasping a conceptual whole
from diverse parts, as Goethe commented about Linmeus, and expelling the static
of prejudices to achieve a purely receptive state of inward listening, as Strindberg
adapted the notion from Bacon. Both conceptions of intuition suggest wholeness
and perfection. 52 "Thought" suggests what William Desmond calls "open

51G.W.F. Hegel, "Philosophical History," Theories of HistolY, ed. Patrick

Gardner (New York: The Free Press, 1959), p. 71.
52See Martin Buber, Pointing the Way, ed. and trans. Maurice Friedman
(New York: Harper and Row, 1957), pp. 81-86. Bergson considered artistic
intuition absolute. Buber argued that the art work presents an aspect of perception.
We shall return to this in our discussion of perception.

100
wholeness" or the "infinite inwardness of self."53 Thought in this sense is resonant
with the essayistic turn of mind. more so than intuition. The projection of an
ongoing future horizon is only possible in conjunction with the notion of the infinite
inwardness of self, self reflection and thought. The sense of a dynamic and
unbounded future depends on the sense of a dynamic and unbounded self. In this
sense, essayism - both literary and musical - entails a historical consciousness
wherein indefinitely bounded time is the primary experience oftemporality.54
As Schoenberg asserts a more Hegelian point of view in the early 1920s,
Popper's charge of megalomania assumes new life in light of the centrality to
Hegel's philosophy of history of the concept of the World-Historical Individual. It
is a charge that strongly undermines music's freedom to aspire to thought by
subordinating it to the notion of destiny. Nathan Rotenstreich notes:
Sometimes, observing historical agents who consider themselves
to be organs of the overriding process, we would judge them to be
megalomaniacs who see their particular locus in history as a locus in
history at large. 55

53William Desmond, Art and the Absolute (New York: State University of
New York Press, 1986).
54See Nathan Rotenstreich, "Can There Be an End to History?" History and
Memory 2 (1990): 136-41. This position disputes those who gather from Hegel
that one can foresee an end to history. As Nathan Rotenstreich notes: "the
disappearance of art or philosophy can be envisaged only when both are taken to be
totally determined by circumstances." Art can only be partially determined by
circumstance because of the unique individuality of each artist.
55Nathan Rotenstreich, Time and Meanin~ in History (Boston: D. Reidel,
1987). p. 70.

101
Whether Schoenberg presented himself as a World-Historical Individual in the early
1920s or earlier would be hard to say. Though more than a technical achievement,
the discovery of the method could not be considered a new actualization of spirit
(Geist) unless it served to sustain a nationalistic aim such as German musical
hegemony - that has World Historical implications. And those are certainly the
implications of the Rufer anecdote. What is missing from the anecdote is the sense
of personal destiny. Schoenberg claimed the "discovery" on the basis of priority,
not personal destiny.56 The idea of destiny becomes explicit in Schoenberg's
writing little by little and sparingly, and signals a shift in perspective when a
retrospective stance towards the completed works predominates. In the essay
"New Music: My Music" Schoenberg recounts a favorite anecdote that had to have
occurred several years prior to the discovery:
In the army, a superior officer once said to me: 'So you are this
notorious Schoenberg, then.' 'Beg to report, sir, yes: I replied.
'Nobody wanted to be, someone had to be, so I let it be me.'57 (ca.
1930)
A retelling of this anecdote occurring in a letter typed in Schoenberg's own English
is still more revealing as the passive construction is replaced by the active verb,
"volunteered: "
Once, when serving in the Austrian Army, I was asked whether I

56Arnold Schoenberg, "A Question of Priority," (original in English).

Archives of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute.
57Schoenberg. "New Music: My Music," (1930) Style and Idea, p. 104.

102
really was "that composer." Arnold Schoenberg. "One had to be it."
I said. "nobody wanted to be. so I volunteered."58 (1949)
This story took on added resonance as the "discovery" became part of
Schoenberg's destiny. It has been pointed out that in the kind of rhetoric we find in
the passages above. there is a close connection with Hegel's introduction to The
Philosophy of History (1831). in particular his idea of the World-Historical
Individual. Amidst all the travails of life. the World-Historical Individual will
subordinate everything to the "master passion." He will give single-minded
devotion to the achievement of his vision. And the achievement will not be mere
whim. but something great because it will realize a new development in the WorIdHistorical Spirit. Geist.
Kant's "What is Enlightenment?" is another work that we can bring to bear
on this anecdote. In that essay Kant speaks of the soldier who in his role as soldier
has an utterly passive role in society -- he must follow orders. Only the civilian
may reflect on the military's policies and criticize them. In this view. Schoenberg
mocks the superior officer's superiority since the officer no matter how high in rank
is essentially passive. Schoenberg. using the military metaphor like Kant.
transforms himself as the soldier. particularly in the 1949 version. into one actively
motivated by will and engaged in reason with respect to circumstance. Within the
Hegelian view. Schoenberg does not neglect the Kantian sense of duty.

58Letter. September 1949. Arnold Schoenberg Archive. Library of

Congress.

103
There is something peculiar about invoking notions of historic duty and
destiny in the spirit of a philosophy over a century old. By 1939, a year which
marks the death of Freud and the beginning of World War II, Big Questions -questions of origins. questions of History and Destiny - were put away.59 After
World War II such statements by Schoenberg become anachronistic. even
dissonant. as far as the prevailing methods of inquiry were concerned.
Anachronistic statements from the later years invoking destiny have incorrectly and
even unjustly been seen to constitute the norm for Schoenberg's discourse. But in
the heaps of writings and correspondence, statements such as the two below occur
rarely, like vestiges from army days which are summoned back for rhetorical effect:
The Supreme Commander had ordered me on a harder road.60
It is my historic duty to write what my destiny orders me to write. 61
Destiny appears -- and it only appears as a concept later in Schoenberg's life -- to be
an inescapable concept for Schoenberg. If the concept of inner necessity can be
extended from the logic of the particular work - a product of interpenetrated
historical and formal processes -- to the logic embodied in a tradition evolving in
time through the activity of its participants, then governance by that logic takes on
the appearance of destiny. This sense of destiny is a residuum found in Spengler:

59See lean-Pierre Dupuy and Francisco J.Varela, Understandin~ Ori~ins

(Dordrecht: KIuwer, 1992), p. l.
6OSchoenberg. "On Revient Toujours (1948)," Style and Idea. p. 109.
61Schoenberg to M. Aram. 15 November 1947, Arnold Schoenberg
Archive, Library of Congress.

104
That there is. besides a necessity of cause and effect - which I may
call the logic of space - another necessity. an organic necessity in
!ife. that of Destiny - the logic of time -- is a fact of the deepest
Inward certainty, a fact which suffuses the whole of mythological
religions and artistic thought and constitutes the essence and kernel
of all history ...This fact still awaits its theoretical formulation. 62
Defining destiny as "the logic of time," Spengler attempts to distance logical destiny
from lawless fate, which relies on occult "supernatural agents," an essential move
for a historian seeking to predetermine history as a historian and not as a
spiritualist.63 Spengler's attempt comes crashing down in the absence of destiny as
a "fact" laCking a "theoretical formulation." Schoenberg's invocations of destiny
are bedeviled in much the same way as Spengler's. By attempting to locate destiny
on the side of lawfulness and reason, Spengler stresses outcome over potentiality.
In that the notion of destiny is more prevalent later in Schoenberg's career, it is a
notion that becomes more characteristic of a retrospective mood Which,
characteristic of Spengler and uncharacteristic of Schoenberg, stresses outcome
OVer potentiality.

In this terribly complicated context in which Popper and Schoenberg

represent such antithetical thought traditions, it is ironic to find deep commonalities
between them. Yet commonalities latent in Popper's assessment of Schoenberg
OCCur on questions of: compositional method. ideology and idolatry, and
modernity in general. In a conversation with Professor Albrecht WeUmer, a scholar
P

. 620swald Spengler, "The World-as-History," Theories of HistoQ', ed.

atnck Gardiner (New York: The Free Press, 1959), p. 192.

63Mario Bunge. Causality and Modern Science, 3rd rev. ed. (New York:
OVer Publications, 1979), p. 102.

105
of the philosophy of Popper and Adorno. we both agreed that it represented a
curious inconsistency that Popper does not like Schoenberg's music. Modem art
by virtue of its methodology. which is always willing to throw traditional
techniques into question. seems to parallel Popperian scientific methodology which
presumes the provisionality of scientific knowledge and attempts to falsify rather
than confirm hypotheses. Just as Popper rejects historical determinism. he rejects
comparably presumptuous forms of it in science. But as Popper admits. he just
does not like modem art and was thus deaf to the musicality of what he heard in the
early 1920s. His distaste peppers his diatribes against the ideology he saw
represented by Schoenberg.
Modern art, on Popper's view, is steeped in ideology by design. Ideology
as doctrine imputed to a work has its parallel in idolatry in which powers are
imputed to an object. It is ironic for a composer so opposed to idolatry to be
accused of forcing audiences to listen on account of doctrine rather than intrinsic
content, even if the doctrine claims for the music the virtue of being the outward
expression of intrinsic spiritual content. Once the Dance Around the Golden Calf is
under way, the seductive qualities of the music are short-lived. Schoenberg's
music takes on a different perspective, that of Moses. The music represents Moses
in absentia, reprimanding and rebuking the frenzied apostates. What Popper fails to
acknowledge is the struggle Schoenberg fought with ideologues of all stripes, and
that the qualities of the music are to this day rejecting their attacks. Again it is
Popper's arch conservatism that does not permit him to bracket out outmoded
ideological vestiges which color his experience of modem art.

106
The third irony is how quintessentially modem a situation it is for a
philosopher to study composition and come away with a burgeoning approach to
the philosophy of history.64 Popper's encounter and rejection of "modernism"
itself constitutes a distinctly modem process of self defmition.

II
Popper expresses the critique of historical consciousness functioning as an
artistic source -- a case of history begetting its own subject - in the most negative
light possible. Through the condemnation of Wagnerian ideology. Popper, much
like Nietzsche, shows his distaste for artists who impute to their works extraneous
self-centered values combined with visionary aesthetics which are the heart of the
historicist misadventure. Popper observed the composers of the Schoenberg circle
practicing a visionary aesthetics by attempting to compose music that was ahead of
its time. The attempt according to Popper was more than an intention, but was
meant to produce the true music of the future. A philosophy of history became the
ideological source used to justify these claims, and as Nathan Rotenstreich reminds
us:
Prediction by definition refers to future circumstances, which are

641 am indebted to a brief conversation with Professor James Walsh for this
observation.

107
meant to be not only circumstances in the objective sense of the tenn
but also to possess the ability to verify the ideology that refers to
them. 65

In other words, to justify an ideology, its assessments and predictions must be fed
back to it. If an outcome accords with an ideologically-infonned prediction, then a
feedback loop occurs in which the whole enterprise appears self-justifying.
Popper's assertion was that the compositional results of the Second Viennese
School did not justify the ideology grounding the forecasts of where music was
heading. What scared Popper was to see an ideology wheel ahead and reproduce
itself uncritically.
Just such a feedback system is central to Wolfgang Martin Stroh's thesis as
it occurs in his Anton Webern: Historische Legitimation als kompositorisches
Problem. In his summary, Stroh explains the feedback system:
...Webem composes on the basis of an idealistic concept of art,
which he had learned from his teacher [Guido] Adler, and which
was later intensified in contact with Schoenberg and by other
circumstances in Webern's life at the beginning of the 20th century.
This concept becomes musical shape in Webem's compositions,
which are then analysed by later generations of musicologists, who
discover the very same characteristics of greatness, quality,
expression, 'art' etc., which are the criteria of Adler's theory. Thus

65Nathan Rotenstreich, Time and Meaning in HistoIY (Boston: D. Reidel,

1987), p. 180.

108

not only Webern's compositions appear to be 'great', but also

Adler's idealism appears to be true. 66 (Emphasis added.)
Had Stroh's formulation of the feedback loop addressed the need for a critical
component, it might have been congenial to Popper's view. However, Stroh's
dialectical materialist lineage - Hegel, Marx, Adorno - is entirely antithetical to
Popper.67 To summarize, Stroh's dialectic is represented by the concepts of
"materialentfaltung," the unfolding of the musical material (the progressive side of
the dialectic) and "materialregulierung," the regulation of the musical material (the
traditional side of the dialectic). Materialentfaltung reveals the unity of the musical
material. Materialregulierung articulates and stratifies the musical material. The
interaction of the two sides of the dialectic produce the musical form. However,
conventional means of regulating the material - phrase structure and orchestration become "more artificial" resulting in an aesthetic distance with the progressive
nature of the material that is unfolding. In essence, Stroh is ultimately attempting to
grapple with the "distance" between Webem's "historical intentions and their

66Wolfgang Martin Stroh, Anton Webem: Historische Legitimation als

kompositorisches Problem (Goppingen: Verlag Alfred Kummerle, 1973), p. 391
(cited hereafter as Stroh, Anton Webem). Stroh offers two other examples of
feedback systems: the "reproduction" of Adler's ideology in Adorno, and the
reception of We bern by the postwar serial composers. Stroh's ultimate conclusion
bears on the social function of Webem's music: "to feedback the ideology of the
ruling class in the capitalistic system, to act as a stabilizer of the class-society, and
to do all this with the assistance of musicology, which attests the quality and
greatness of his music."
67See Ernest GeUner, "The Last Marxists," Times Literruy Supplement
(September 23, 1994): 4. For a debate between Adorno and Popper see also The
Positivist Dispute in German Sociology (1976).

109
realization."68 Webern's Kantate, Op. 31 which in the fourth movement
synthesizes the procedures of both recitative and netherlandish polyphony
exemplifies Stroh's notion of aesthetic distance. The aesthetic distance is felt in
tenns of how differently each of these styles is regulated, but that distance is
bridged in the unfolding of the material. In its unfolding, the music seems to
demonstrate the very modem observation that our perceptions of highly organized
and chaotic patterns can be quite similar. Webern's working with historical codes
is interesting at an analytical level, but the bottom line of Stroh's thesis is that
legitimation occurs at the sociological level. By focusing on the reproduction of
ideology through a feedback loop, Stroh's view of musical society as closed, even
incestuous, adds a touch of cynicism to the pessimistic view of Adorno. Moreover.
the feedback model violates the very idealistic conception of art that Stroh correctly
ascribes to Schoenberg. According to this idealistic conception, the Judaic model
of creation imitatio Dei converges with Kantian aesthetics. These two traditions
were harmonized in the Marpurg neo-Kantian philosophy of Hermann Cohen and
likewise in Schoenberg's thought as well.
Steven S. Schwarzschild, writing from a neo-Kantian perspective, rallies to
Schoenberg's side against Adorno and his pessimistic view. Adorno's pessimism
lies in the repudiation of transcendence. For Adorno, the actual is rational: no
"ought" can exceed what "is." Schoenberg rejects Adorno's materialism for the
same reason he rejected Spengler: Adorno's is ultimately a theory of decline. and

68Stroh. Anton Webern. p. 390.

110
theories of decline are anathema to creative vitality. Prospectively (precompositionally) the Kantian view is more congenial toward essayism and fantasy
than Stroh's or Adorno's. Schwarzscbild, upholding a neo-Kantian interpretation
against Adorno's Marxist position, cringes at Adorno's assessment of
Schoenberg's works as "magnificent failures."69 Adorno's position that twelvetone serialism is born of a concept of pitch relationships that defeat human
perception is for Schwarzschild a persistent misperception. Schwarzschild
admirably defends the "listenability" of twelve-tone serial music and in effect
translates Schoenberg's aesthetics in general and the twelve-tone method of
composition in particular into the terms of Hermann Cohen's Aesthetik.
Schwarzschild bases his translation on a passage from Schoenberg's first letter to
Kandinsky:
I myself don't believe that painting must necessarily be objective.
Indeed, I firmly believe the contrary. Nevertheless, when the
imagination suggests objective things to us, then, well and good -perhaps that is because our eyes perceive only objective things. The
ear has an advantage in this regard. But when the artist reaches the
point at which he desires only the expression of inner events and
inner scenes in his rhythms and tones, then the 'object in painting'
has ceased to belong to the reproducing eye. 70
Working from the passage above, Schwarzschild restates it in a more
philosophically rigorous manner:
69Theodor Adorno, Philosophie der neuen Musik (Frankfurt, 1958), p. 91.
Cited by Schwarzschild, "Adorno and Schoenberg as Jews," p. 467.
70Cited by Steven Schwarzschild, "Adorno and Schoenberg as Jews," p.
465. Schoenberg to Kandinsky, 24 January 1911, Jelena Hahl-Koch ed., Arnold
Schoenberg and Wassily Kandinsky. Letters. Pictures and Documents, trans. John
C. Crawford (Boston: Faber and Faber, 1984), p. 23.

III
This, [i.e. the passage cited above] translated into technical Kantian I
neo-Kantian tenninology, would tum out to be an excellent
formulation: objects are produced, not reproduced, by the
imagination, which is the 'transcendentally idealistic' ground of the
empirical world, and this imagination is primarily the
'schematisation' of the inner sense, i.e., time, concretised through
the mathematics of rhythm and tone.
Adomo ...criticises Schoenberg's work for doing just about what
Kantianism would have him do. Composing in dodecaphony is a
thoroughly rational, indeed, rationalistic and even aprioristic activity:
it has 'divorced itself from material (physical) nature'; it 'dissolves
nature into reason'; it 'circled about cognition from the outset,' and
this is not a cognition of sensuous objects but what Kant called
'originating,' 'moral' cognition through 'form'; it 'throughcomposes' - i.e., it leaves and derives nothing from dead nature
but. instead, gets it all from 'fonns out of nothing.' The row is the
'a priori' of (musical inspiration). Indeed, Adorno recognises,
though he also, as usual, misunderstands and misinterprets, the
specifically Kantian character of Schoenberg's system: Beethoven's
'motifs' are the musical 'infinitesimals' that are 'prototypical of
Kantian epistemology' and that become Schoenberg's series; they
are in tum constructed, as are all objects, out of a combination of the
dynamic (expressive) and the mathematical (rhythmic-spatial)
categories in Kant's categorical table. 71
Schwarzschild's argument with Adorno over the premise that rationality divorced
from materiality founders in irrationality underlies the entire discussion.
Schoenberg is exemplary, in Schwarzschild's view, as an artist for whom the "pure
idea" was not an irrelevancy to the musical material, but as an artist who realized
that the "pure idea" was "not bound to any or all actuality" and could thus "loom
over" the material as a transcendent regulative principle. 72 As Schwarzschild
indicates, here "we are really talking about the totally transcendent, 'spiritual' God

71Steven S. SchwarzschiId, "Adorno and Schoenberg as Jews," pp. 465-6.

72lbid., p. 469.

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of Judaism. "73 Another and oft-quoted passage of Schoenberg's needs to be

quoted again only in its proper context representing the convergence of neo-Kantian
aesthetics and the Judaic sense of creation irnitatio Dei:
To understand the very nature of creation one must acknowledge
that there was no light before the Lord said: 'Let there be light.'
And since there was not yet light, the Lord's omniscience embraced
a vision of it which only His omnipotence could call forth ...
A creator has a vision of something which has not existed before
this vision.
And a creator has the power to bring his vision to life, the power
to realize it.
In fact, the concept of creator and creation should be fonned in
harmony with the Divine Model...14
Resonant in this convergence of the Kantian and Judaic models is the projection of
futurity that the transcendence of regulative principles entails. Popper rejected this
philosophical stance unconditionally in terms of its predictive claims; there is
probably no way in which to couch Schoenberg's aesthetics that would mollify
either Popper or Adorno. However, we might restate the premise that Schoenberg
composed based on an idealistic conception of art in a way that would better reflect
his preoccupation with the future that permeates his writings and music. Rather
than "idealistic," we might say "ideal-seeking." This change short-circuits Stroh's
feedback loop by denying the premise that the qualities of a work can be
presupposed on the basis of any ideology. Neither ideologies nor works can be
legitimized by a such a process. Rather Schoenberg's enterprise is characterized by

73Ibid., p. 470.
74Schoenberg, "Composition with Twelve-Tones" (1941), Style and Idea,
pp. 214-15.

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his seeking an ever more ideal way to compose, one which does not feed back into
any actual self-justifying ideology. This exploration of the possible over the actual
accounts for the prevailing difficulty of forming a comprehensive materialist
historical understanding of Schoenberg's works.

In some respect Stroh may be correct. Successive generations of

composers and theorists who have adopted "inner necessity" as their mantra expect
the fonnal cohesiveness of their works to be recognized and the aesthetic value of
"inner necessity" to be reaffirmed. Yet Stroh's materialistic model is falsified by
Schoenberg's and Adler's shared idealism. Legitimation lies in an uncompromising
fidelity toward the conception of art, not in its socialization, a process not as neat as
Stroh's model suggests. Nevertheless reproduction of ideology does figure in this
picture. It was no accident that Schoenberg and Adler both adopted an idealistic
conception of art. Schoenberg's ideal-seeking conception of art has its basis, as we
have noted, in the convergence of Kant's aesthetic philosophy and the Judaic model
of divine creation. 75 This convergence indicates the ways in which Schoenberg's
view of the world and aesthetics embodies the experience and historical
consciousness of the Viennese-Jewish subculture in which he was raised.

75See Steven S. Schwarzschild, "The Legal Foundation of Jewish

Aesthetics," Journal of Aesthetic Education IX (January 1975): 29-42. See also
Patricia Carpenter and Severine Neff, eds., Commentary to The Musical Idea and
the Logic. Technique. and Art of Its Presentation by Arnold Schoenberg (New
York: Columbia University Press, 1995), p. 2.

114
III
To describe Schoenberg as a historically conscious Jewish musician is to
yoke together three attributes of impossibly incompatible gaits. An understanding
of these incompatibilities is necessary in order to see the historical and social
processes by which Schoenberg came to incorporate in himself the dynamics of all
three attributes. One of these incompatibilities we have already dealt with at length,
namely, the mutual incompatibility of historical consciousness and artistic
creativity. If the artist becomes absorbed in history, the past swallows up his
personality (Nietzsche's view). If the historicist attempts to create art, he forgoes
problems of composition rooted in art, and instead attempts to devise works of the
future rooted in an ideology having nothing to do with art (Popper's view). Music
as an art belongs to the Absolute, not to history; history is only contingent to music
(Hegel's view). By Schoenberg's time Musikwissenschaft was more than a
burgeoning discipline; its practitioners promulgated a developmental conception of
music history. As a creative artist, Schoenberg was impelled to find a way to
understand music historically and yet still work creatively. For Schoenberg this
challenge was both helped and problematized by another factor, a sense religious
identity complicated by the upheavals of Jewish emancipation.
Paul Mendes-Flohr and Jehuda Reinharz list four responses to the problem
of Jewish identity that emerged during the time of Jewish assimilation into an
inhospitable majority culture: "estrangement," "conversion," "cosmopolitanism,"

115

and "Jewish self-hatred."76 At the same time, Mendes-Flohr and Reinharz note a
corresponding "dialectical affIrmation of Jewish identity and Judaism" represented
by: "national Zionist affmnation"; "affmnation of Jewishness qua unique
sensibility"; "defIant Jewry"; and "the affmnation of Jewish religious faith."77
With the exception of Jewish self-hatred which Schoenberg never expressed, the
seven remaining responses are at various times and in various degrees present in
Schoenberg's writings. Though this complicates the sense of religious identity, the
contexts in which Schoenberg voices his sense of religious identity follow if not
anticipate prevailing historical trends. What we tum to first, however, are the
incongruities.
Philosophy of History in Light of Judaism. In a letter to Berg, Schoenberg
writes: "Today it is with pride that I call myself a Jew; however, I am aware of the
difficulties of really being one. "78 Among the difficulties, Schoenberg does not
enumerate them, surely the difficulty of observance is one of them. Yet
Schoenberg had much earlier expressed the yearnings of a man of faith, whose
identity is founded upon what he believes as well as what he knows - upon credo
as well as cogito - though by 1932 his expression of belief was firmly attached to a
Jewish identity.

76Paul Mendes-Flohr and Jehuda Reinharz, eds., The Jew in the Modem
World: A Documentruy History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980), p. 214.
77Ibid., p. 214.
78The Berg -- Schoenberg Correspondence, p. 436. Schoenberg to Berg.
Berlin, 23 September 1932.

116
The incompatibility with historical consciousness lies in the ahistorical
conception of Judaism. As expounded by Yesbayahu Leibowitz, it is understood
that: "...Judaism manifested itself in a particular way of servin& God. and not in
any particular conception of man. of the world. or of histOly ...The abiding and
constant element in Jewish history, the Halakhah, is essentially ahistoric."79 In
Leibowitz's view, although the multitude of twists and turns of history can "color"
religious belief, Judaism cannot be characterized by "the attribution of religious
meaning to the historical process. "80 This is not the view on which Schoenberg
was raised, though this view is not foreign to him either. It is akin to the view of
timeless faith expressed in Die Jakobsleiter and Moses und Aron which in the latter
incorporates the idea of the law. Finally, the "idea" comes down from the mountain
in A Survivor from Warsaw in which the doing of a commandment, a particular act
of faith -- the sanctification of God's name - is actually represented. Through this
work the ahistorical conception of Judaism eventually receives a poignant
expression placed in an extreme historical situation.
Judaism in

Li~ht

of Philosophy of History. Just as an excessive historical

consciousness according to Nietzsche could estrange an individual from immediate

experience, so too the Jewish religion was seen to estrange its adherents from both
the spiritual dimension of their lives as well as from the historical development of

79Yeshayahu Leibowitz, "Ahistorical Thinkers in Judaism," Judaism,

Human Values, and the Jewish State, ed. and trans. Eliezer Goldman (Cambridge:
Harvard University Press, 1992), pp. 96-97.
80Ibid., p. 104.

117
the world. Connection with both the spiritual and historical CGeistesgeschichte in
one tenn) is of course crucial to Schoenberg. UndellIlining the idea that spiritual
and historical vitality is possible through Judaism are any number of Gennan
philosophic positions. 81 The upshot of this exposure is described by Paul MendesAohr: "In the throes of assimilation the Western Jew became estranged from
himself and his ancestral religion and perceived Judaism through the distorting and
hostile prism of the educated European. "82
That the Jews were to be seen as a historical people is a view with roots in
Hegel and the Hegelian philosopher Bruno Bauer. In the Philosophy of Right,
Hegel sets forth the view that a people can execute its unique universal historical
objective only once:
The nation to which is ascribed a moment of the Idea in the fonn
of a natural principle is entrusted with giving complete effect to it in
the advance of the self-developing self-consciousness of the world
mind. This nation is dominant in world history during this one
epoch, and it is only once that it can make its hour strike. In
contrast with this its absolute right of being the vehicle of this
present stage in the world mind's development, the minds of the

81See Nathan Rotenstreich, Jews and Gennan Philosophy: The Polemics

of Emancipation (New York: Schocken, 1984) and Paul Mendes-Aohr, "Buber
and the Metaphysicians of Contempt," Living With Antisemitism: Modem Jewish
Responses, ed. Jehuda Reinharz (London: Brandeis University Press, 1987), pp.

133-64.
82Paul Mendes-Flohr, "Buber and the Metaphysicians of Contempt," p.

136.

118
other nations are without rights, and they, along with those whose
hour has struck already, count no longer in world history.83
According to this view, Judaism had indeed been superseded leaving Jewish
practice as a persistent vestige of a people whose historical role had long passed.
Bruno Bauer in his 1843 essay Die Judenfrage characterizes the essence of Judaism
as unchangeability which is manifest by Jews as a people of a perennially "stiffnecked" nature. Bauer concludes from this observation that Jews have "an actual
incapacity for historical development."84 There is much more negativity derived
from the Hegel lineage, which became a source for Wagner. The point here is that
the Hegelian tradition excludes Schoenberg who as a Jew is excluded from
executing a new stage in the process of historical development even if it is purely as
a musician, a view that adds bite to the epithet "Second Viennese School."85

83G.W.F. Hegel. Philosophy of Right, trans. T. M. Knox (Oxford:

Oxford University Press, 1967), pp. 217-18 and 169n. See also Nathan
Rotenstreich, Jews and German Philosophy, p. 73. One might conclude from this
passage that Hegel was an opponent of civil rights for Jews. Despite his view of
Judaism as "misanthropic," he felt that the modem state could only emerge if the
Jews were recognized to have civil rights.
84Rotenstreich, Jews and German Philosophy, pp. 77-78. See also Yosef
Hayim Yerushalmi, Freud's Moses (Yale University Press, 1991), p. 68. In 1852,
Jacob Bemays, a scholar and the uncle of Freud's wife received a letter from a
"good Christian friend" urging him to convert "not for utilitarian reasons (that, he
knew, would be beneath him) but as a fulfIllment of his Judaism that would also
put him in the mainstream of world history."
85The violinist Rudolf Kolisch was mistakenly thought to have coined the
expression "Second Viennese School." Nevertheless, it is understood as a term of
denigration as opposed to "New Viennese School."

119
Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven made the hour of Viennese music strike. A "Second
Viennese School," in Hegel's words, can "count no longer in world history."
In his essay "Martin Buber and the Metaphysicians of Contempt," Paul
Mendes-Flohr describes Martin Buber's unflagging efforts "to retrieve for the
educated Jew -- and non-Jew - of the West the spiritual reality of Judaism."86
Buber met this enormous task of correcting prejudices voiced by Werner Sombart,
Otto Weininger, and Houston Stewart Chamberlain that: "Judaism is utterly bereft
of any competence for mysticism and religious mystery."87 Bringing to light
wealths of Jewish mystic and mythic material, Buber revealed a living tradition of
"primal Judaism":
This primal Judaism (Urjudentum) - grounded in an unquenchable
quest for an "intimate" relationship with God, "spontaneous"
spirituality, "passion," "ecstatic phantasy," "inwardness" -- endured
in the myth and mysticism that the Jewish people continued to
cherish ... 88
Of all these attributes, "inwardness" is the most directly associated with the capacity
for historical development. Projection of the future depends upon an unbounded
inward sense of self. Understanding the past depends upon drawing inner
connections that can make a picture of so many documents and artifacts. Robert

86Mendes-Flohr, "Martin Buber and the Metaphysicians of Contempt," p.

136.
87Ibid., p. 145.
88Ibid., p. 144.

120
Musil depicts the view of the Jewish incapacity for inwardness through the
character of Hans Sepp, a nationalistic antisemite who echoes Wagner:
Feuennaul [a poet], as a Jew, had appropriated these things [The
Beyond, contemplation, Christ, ~ Gautama Buddha] with his
intelligence but inwardly had no idea what they were about. 89
Buber was directly confronting this strain of antisemitism by elucidating a primal
Judaism.
In addition to collections of the tales of the Baal Shem Tov and Rabbi
Nachman, Buber in collaboration with Franz Rosenzweig, and continuing after the
latter's death in 1929, produced a German translation of the Hebrew Bible that
would emulate Hebrew phrasing and structure. Again, this work, intended as a
"mission to Christianity," attempted to make the case that Judaism is not ajejune
dogma. 9o By 1906 Buber's first collection of Hasidic tales was already in print
catering to a growing enthusiasm for literature that would be both an antidote to dry
enlightened rationalism and to the ongoing denigration of Jews and Judaism.
Buber himself had the same need. As Mendes-Flohr shows, Buber in his youth
displayed low self esteem and a typical touchiness about being Jewish. Schoenberg
followed a similar pattern: an outward tum away from Judaism in youth underlain
by an inward spiritual search affmning Jewish identification. Another
contemporary of Schoenberg's, Theodore Lessing (1872-1933), who expressed the

89Musil, The Man Without Qualities, vol. 2, p. 1655.

9OMendes-Flohr, "Martin Buber and the Metaphysicians of Contempt," p.
155.

121
idea of Jewish self-hatred in an essay of the same name also returned to Judaism
through Zionism, a path common to both Buber and Schoenberg.
Given Schoenberg's lack of formal Jewish education, conversion and
immersion in German philosophy it is no wonder that so much scholarship sees
Schoenberg as estranged from JUdaism.91 But inasmuch as this scholarship
willingly concedes Schoenberg's estrangement to the metaphysicians of contempt
as self-evident - given the writings of Hegel. Bauer, Sombart, Harnack and
Chamberlain which reinforce the idea that Jews and Judaism are estranged from any
capacity for historical development and spirituality - it fails to recognize how
ramified a source Judaism and Schoenberg's upbringing in Vienna's Jewish
subculture was for Schoenberg. To say that Schoenberg was estranged from
Judaism and the Jewish milieu of his youth is to promulgate the views of the
metaphysicians of contempt who in making the claim that Schoenberg was fully
estranged from Judaism are actually claiming that a devitalized Judaism was
estranged from Schoenberg. For example. an otherwise perceptive 1992
dissertation draws the following conclusion: "... there is no evidence that

91For theories concerning Schoenberg's conversion see Ringer, Arnold

Schoenberg: The Composer as Jew, p. 7. H. H. Stuckenschmidt. Schoenbeq~, p.
34. Lucy Dawidowicz, "Arnold Schoenberg: A Search for Jewish Identity," The
Jewish Presence (New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1978), pp. 32-45.
Pamela C. White, Schoenberg and the God Idea: The Opera Moses und Aron (Ann
Arbor, 1985), pp. 53-54. Leon Botstein, "Arnold Schoenberg: Language,
Modernism, and Jewish Identity," Austrians and Jews in the Twentieth-Century,
ed. Robert Wistrich (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1992), p. 163. Alison Rose,
"A Viennese Interpretation of Moses: Arnold Schoenberg's Jewish Identity,"
Judaism 39 (July 1990): 296-304. With the exception of Stuckenschmidt, the
scholars listed above are careful not to read Schoenberg's apostasy as an
unmitigated repudiation of Judaism.

122
Schoenberg's orthodox Jewish upbringing influenced either his ideas about music
or his musical style. "92 This conclusion is not only false in its implication that
Judaism was not an influence, but also wrong in its characterization of
Schoenberg's upbringing as orthodox.
Music in Light of Jewish Thought. Franz Rosenzweig accords music a
high place among all the arts because it is most closely associated with revelation:
"For in revelation, the ray of time bursts through the aperture of the moment into
the broad basin of created space [i.e. the house of worship], and music is that art
which spins a time period out of the moment."93 But Rosenzweig then goes on to
argue that when music sets up its own shop, dissociating itself from the sacred,
exchanging the house of worship and the sacred seasons for the concert hall and the
concert season, the musical devotee uses music as an escape:
The musical person can arouse any given feeling in himself at will;
worse still, he can cause the feeling within to discharge within
himself. By generating its own "ideal" time, the musical opus
disavows real time. It makes its listener forget the year in which he
is living. It makes him forget his age. It transports him, wide
awake, to those dreamers of whom each is said to have a world of
his own. Even though he be rudely awakened. crying "it were
better to have never dreamed." nevertheless, at the next opportunity
he again reaches for the bottle and quaffs his potion of oblivion.
Thus he leads a strange life, and. not just one strange life; nay, he
lives hundreds of lives, from one piece of music to the next, and
none is his own ...The heinous aspect of music is that it disintegrates
real time with ideal times in its desire to be pure. To be absolved
from this crime, it would have to allow itself to be conducted out of
92Charlotte Cross, "Schoenberg's Weltanschauung and His Views of
Music" (Ph.D. dissertation, Columbia University, 1992), p. 531.
93Franz Rosenzweig, The Star of Redemption, trans. William W. Hallo
(New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1971), p. 360.

123
its Beyond into the here and now of time; it would have to integrate
its ideal time into real time. This would. imply the transition of
music from concert hall to church...Only revelation fixes its marker
in the middle of time, and now there is a Prior and Posterior which
will not be shifted...He who joins in singing a chorale, or who
listens to the mass, he knows very exactly in what time he is.94
Rosenzweig raises the question of the role of music in our experience of time. of
our consciousness of our situatedness in time, and of the capacity of musical
experience to engender historical consciousness. Subordinated to the religious!
historical calendar, music is intended to affirm a sense of situatedness in time.
Apart from a religious! historical context, virtual times may be experienced.
Schoenberg dealt with the consciousness of time situatedness in psychological,
historical and religious contexts. In A Survivor from Warsaw he brings together all
three. Yet as far as Rosenzweig is concerned, Schoenberg was primarily
composing music for a context outside the sphere of historical! religious time.
Jewish Thought in Light of Music. Einstein's sources, as Yeshayahu
Leibowitz points out. are Helmholtz, Mach and Lorentz; Einstein's thought "did not
spring from the soil of Judaism but from European philosophy."95 Much the same
can be said, mutatis mutandis, for Schoenberg whose immediate sources include
Brahms and Wagner and all their sources. Calling Schoenberg's music, Jewish
music, in the same sense that antisemites have called Einstein's physics, Jewish
physics, leads to the trap of evaluating Schoenberg's music according to the myth

94Ibid., pp. 360-1.

95Yeshayahu Leibowitz, Judaism, Jewish Values and the Jewish State, p.
206.

124
of JUdaization promulgated by Wagner.96 That the relationship between
Schoenberg and the German musical tradition can be viewed as an incompatibility
owes to Wagner's "Das Judenturn in der Musik," the work of yet another
metaphysician of contempt. What is insufficiently recognized is the extent to which
Schoenberg mingles his sense of musical creativity with his impulse toward Jewish
creativity. Indeed, a Jewish sense of creativity that the artist experiences as
revelatory defines Schoenberg's whole conception of musical creativity.97
Incompatibilities such as these reverberate incessantly in the expression
"historically conscious Jewish musician." Only under peculiar conditions can these
incompatibilities be embodied in one artist.

IV
Matters concerning politics, art, religion, family life, social status, selfesteem, nationality, ethnicity and education arise in any exploration of
Schoenberg's Jewish identity. One facet that has not been discussed is
Schoenberg's Jewish identity vis-a.-vis historical consciousness. The emergence of
historical consciousness in nineteenth-century Judaism is significant in its own right
in shaping both modern Judaism and the Viennese-Jewish subculture. It is this
96See Steven E. Aschheim, "'The Jew Within': The Myth of 'Judaization'
in Germany," The Jewish Response to German Culture: From the Enli~htenment
to the Second World War, eds. Jehuda Reinharz and Waiter Schatzberg (London:
Clark University Press, 1985), pp. 212-41.
97See Joseph B. Soloveitchik, "Halakhic Man: His Creative Capacity,"
Halakhic Man, trans. Lawrence Kaplan (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication
Society, 1983), pp. 99-137.

125
cultural context that served as the foundation for both Schoenberg's integration of
historical consciousness and his aesthetics. Many other facets of Schoenberg's
Jewish identity have been persistently misunderstood because the history of modem
Judaism in the throes of transformation has been a neglected source. Most glaring
in this respect is the view that disregards Schoenberg's early life in the formation of
his Jewish identity, and which does not begin the narration of Schoenberg's
engagement with Jewish concerns until the early 1920s. It is the polyphony of
views flourishing in the Viennese-Jewish subculture that becomes the idealistic
conception of art to which Stroh alludes and which predates the Wagnerism Popper
found pervading the Verein.
Demographic studies of the Viennese-Jewish subculture demonstrate that
Schoenberg moved with the currents of his community's evolving structure. 98 He
grew up in Vienna's Second District (the Leopoldstadt), the sight of seventeenthcentury Vienna's Jewish ghetto. While Vienna as a whole was nine percent
Jewish, the Leopoldstadt of Schoenberg's youth -- a distinct and concentrated
Jewish neighborhood -- was one third Jewish, representing over forty percent of
the Jewish population. 99 Attending Realschule, Schoenberg was part of a student

98See Marsha L. Rozenblit, The Jews of Vienna. 1867-1914: Assimilation

and Identity (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1983). Rozenblit has
analyzed surviving statistical records of the Viennese-Jewish community which are
the primary sources for her study.
99Ibid., pp. 74-77.

126
population that was 69.7 percent Jewish. 100 Assimilationism, having reached fever
pitch for the generation of Schoenberg's parents, created a vacuum in Jewish
education that acutely affected Schoenberg's generation. 101 Indeed, by the time of
Schoenberg's Lutheran conversion in 1896, the conversion rate among Viennese
Jews had climbed to its peak of one conversion for every 230 Jews, six times the
rate of the 1868-79 period.1 02 And like Schoenberg, forty-percent of Viennese
Jewish apostates were in their twenties, engaged or married and seeking economic
improvement when they underwent conversion. 103 Statistics also show a trend of
apostates returning to Judaism. In 1910, one fifth of all returnees had been nonJews for as long as six to ten years. For an apostate of nearly forty years to return
was a rarity. Schoenberg's return however was part of a gradual process and was
coupled in the early 1930s to the complementary decision to leave Austria and
Gennany pennanently.l04 By the 1930s, Zionism had displaced assimilationism as
the leading ideology among the majority of Viennese Jewry. Schoenberg was

IOOIbid., p. 107.
JOllbid .. p. 135.
I02Lestchinsky, "Ha-shmad be-arazot shonot," Haolam 5, no. 1 (1911):
15.
103Todd M. Endelman, "Conversion as a Response to Antisemitism,"
With Antisemitism: Modern Jewish Responses, ed. Jehuda Reinharz
(London: Brandeis University Press, 1987), p. 71. See also Marsha Rozenblit.
The Jews of Vienna. 1867-1914: Assimilation and Identity (Albany: State
University of New York Press, 1983), p. 137.
Livin~

I04Rozenblit, The Jew of Vienna, p. 145.

127
already involved with the theme of Jewish nationalism in the 1920s. At every tum,
Schoenberg stands individualistically with mainstream.
H. H. Stuckenschmidt's biographical portrait highlights the many
contradictions present in Schoenberg's early life: Schoenberg was raised in the
Jewish milieu of family and friends in Vienna's Second District (Leopoldstadt), yet
never undertook fonnal Jewish studies; he confessed in a letter to a younger female
cousin that he was an unbeliever, yet held the Bible in the highest esteem; and he
was raised by Jewish parents of opposite religious temperaments. a freethinkin~
father and a pious mother, yet in a household that was observant until the father's
death in 1890.105 Stuckenschmidt portrays Schoenberg's Jewish identity as
durable (even when suppressed). Combined with a sharp intellect, Schoenberg
would dwell on spiritual and religious questions and seek to manifest his ideas in
musical composition.
What Stuckenschmidt does not clarify is the meaning of "freethinker," the
expression perennially invoked to characterize Schoenberg's father and uncle Hans
Nachod. Freethinker. in German

"Freisinni~er,"

is a term which does not simply

denote "liberal," but which in the Viennese-Jewish context of the latter half of the
nineteenth century denotes one who adheres to Reform Judaism. 106 What does it
mean to adhere to Reform Judaism? In part, it means a particular view of Jewish
105Stuckenschmidt. Arnold

Schoenber~.

pp. 15-45.

I06See Reuben M. Rainey, Freud As Student of Religion: Perspectives on

the BackfUound and Development of His Thought (Ph.D. Dissertation, Columbia
University, 1971), p. 22. See also Emanuel Rice, Freud and Moses: The Lon~
Journey Home (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1990), p. 41.

128
history stemming from the rise ofWissenschaft des Judentums in the early
nineteenth century which conceptualized Jewish history in terms of the same
organicist metaphor by which Schoenberg later discussed musical composition.
For Jewish scholars to couch Jewish history in developmental terms signaled an
attempt at regenerating the vibrancy of the Jewish community. As described here
by Ismar Schorsch, the language of Jewish reform owes as much to idealism as
does Schoenberg's language:
The revision of Jewish history by the intellectuals of the Reform
movement rested on two conceptual assumptions which often
merged into substantive conclusions. Like every living
phenomenon, Judaism was subject to the law of development. Its
ideas and forms were part of a historical continuum, emerging
gradually and constantly changing. The Talmud itself offered the
most convincing proof of this, for it amounted to a vast reworking
of biblical Judaism ...This vitality of growth in the past was the
guarantee that Judaism could also meet the dictates of the present.
What saved Jewish history from the fate of pure historicism was
the concept of essence .. .!t was this unchanging though ever
unfolding idea which provided the continuity as well as the motive
power of Jewish history. Present from the very outset the idea was
locked in combat with its materialistic adversaries. With each round
it managed to assume a higher form more appropriate to its nature.
But every resolution was merely temporary, for the very assumption
of material form marked a compromise of the idea. I 07
Readers of Schoenberg's essays will no doubt be sensitive to the resonance
between the two main concepts of the Reform movement - law of development and
basic idea - and Schoenberg's classic statements on the musical idea and its

107Ismar Schorsch. From Text to Context: The Tum to History in Modem

Judaism (London: Brandeis University Press, 1994), p. 268.

129
developmentJ 08 Joseph Wolf (1762-1826) who promulgated the idea of Bildung
through published sermons epitomizes Schoenberg's aesthetics of composition
mutatis mutandis in his view of the individual and society: "'Nothing foreign can
be grafted onto man, neither the individual nor entire peoples'; rather, all 'formation
[BildungJ must come from within' as the development of innate characteristics." 109
Yet the organicism of German idealism alone is an insufficient template for Jewish
reform and Schoenberg's aesthetics. Only when we consider the essence that
obtains through history. can we see quite how compelling this approach is in its
potential to unify history, religion and aesthetics and subsequently ground
Schoenberg's view of history, religion and aesthetics. As early as 1822, Immanuel
Wolf enunciated the Reform understanding of the essence of Judaism in what has
come to be a long-standing formulation:
What is this idea that has existed throughout so much of world
history and has so successfully influenced the culture of the human
race? It is of the most simple kind and its content can be expressed
in a few words. It is the idea of unlimited unity in the all. It is
contained in the one word Adonai which signifies indeed the living
unity of all being in eternity, the absolute being outside defined
timed and space. This concept is revealed to the Jewish people, i.e.,
posited as a datum. I I 0

I08See Patricia Carpenter and Severine Neff, Commentary to The Musical

Idea and the Logic. Technique and Art of Its Presentation, by Arnold Schoenberg
(New York: Columbia University Press, 1995), pp. 1-74.
I09David Sorkin, The Transformation of German Jewry. 1780-1840
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), p. 94.
IIOImmanuel Wolf, Year Book of the Leo Baeck Institute 2 (1957), p. 194.
Quoted in Schorsch. From Text to Context, p. 268.

130
This conception of Adonai influenced Schoenberg's music throughout his career,
from VerkHirte Nacht, which in the words of Alexander Ringer, "truly exemplifies
the spiritual unity of the Schoenbergian legacy," to Die Jakobsleiter, Moses und
Aron, A Survivor from Warsaw, the psalm settings and the chamber music. I I I
When Leon Botstein writes that Schoenberg as did Mahler before took over the
belief in art as religion from Wagner, he is perhaps not giving sufficient weight to
the incorporation of historical consciousness into Jewish religion and culture which
had so much resonance for Schoenberg's artistic expression. I 12
Though Schoenberg's Jewish education was negligible in areas of Hebrew
language and Jewish law. transmission of liberal Judaism distilled in two key ideas
did not require such formal means. This is especially so since these ideas were
ramified throughout the Viennese-Jewish subculture. particularly through the
concept of self-formation CBildung) which lay at the heart of Wilhelm von
Humboldt's plans for educational reform and which Schoenberg adapted as the

I I I Alexander

Ringer, Arnold Schoenberg: The Composer As Jew, p. 185.

112Leon Botstein. Judentum und Modemitat: Essays zur Rolle der Juden in
deutschen und osterreichischen Kultur. 1848-1938 (Vienna: Bohlau Verlag, 1991).

p.54.

131
basis for his defInition of genius.l 13 To understand this concept we need to widen
our historical view to include the context of the emancipation of Gennan-Jewry in
the fIrst decade of the nineteenth century and consider the extent of the
transformation German-Jewry was about to undergo in a world transformed by the
Enlightenment (Haskalah) and the French Revolution.
In the wake of Napoleon's victory in Prussia. German-Jewry found itself
on the threshold of emancipation as part of a general effort to revitalize the society.
For his part in the process Wilhelm von Humboldt assumes an especially influential
place in Jewish history. 114 In 1809 Humboldt warned the Prussian government to
legislate Jewish emancipation unconditionally so as not to perpetuate abiding
prejudices. 115 A passage from Graetz's Popular HistOI), of the Jews
(Volkstiimliche Geschichte der Juden) is typical of the acclaim Humboldt receives:

113See David Sorkin, pp. 126-7. Arnold Schoenberg, "Gustav Mahler"

(1912, 1948), Style and Idea, pp. 468-9. Cf. Gadamer, Hans-Georg, Truth and
Method (New York: Crossroad, 1985), pp. 10-19. Sorkin describes moral
education and Bildung in the school curriculum. Gadamer traces the transformation
of Bildung from its sense of natural form to its more theoretical sense of formation.
Schoenberg infuses the notion of genius with the developmental idea of Bildung.
Instead of the word Bildung, Schoenberg's casts this concept in evolutionary terms
employing the word Entwicklung.
114Heinrich Graetz, Popular History of the Jews, trans. Rabbi A. B. Rhine,
ed. Alexander Harkavy (New York: Jordan Publishing Co., 1935), vol. 5, p. 370,
442. Humboldt was an ardent proponent of unqualified and immediate
emancipation of the Jews. Graetz also notes a love affair between Humboldt and
Henriette Herz, a Jewish intellectual of the time who later became involved
romantically with Schleiermacher; she was later baptized. The main point is that
Humboldt's philosophy of history is discernible in Schoenberg's aesthetics.
115Ismar Schorsch, Jewish Reactions To German Anti-Semitism. 18701914 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1972), pp. 208-9.

132

In the draft of the German Constitution [1815] prepared by the

Prussian plenipotentiary [Wilhelm von Humboldt], which was
submitted to Metternich and adopted as the basis of the conference, a
clause was inserted that practically conferred equal rights upon the
Jews: The three Christian religious denominations are to enjoy
equal right in all German states, and the adherents of the Jewish
faith will be given the same civil rights in so far as they submit to the
fulfillment of civic duties: 116
Contrary to Humboldt's view, however, citizenship would not be awarded on the
basis of natural rights, but on the basis of assimilation; thus the state had a tutelary
function. 117 To become citizens, Jews embarked upon the process of selfformation (Bildun&).1 18 Bildun& became an institutionalized reform orchestrated
by Wilhelm von Humboldt as the central principle of education, and even rose to
the status of a secular religion. These various themes of emancipation,
Wissenschaft, Enlightenment and Bildun& are completely intertwined as Paul
Mendes-Rohr explains:

116Heinrich Graetz, Popular History of the Jews, trans. Rabbi A. B. Rhine,

ed. Alexander Harkavy (New York: Jordan Publishing Co., 1935), vol. 5, p. 442.
117David Sorkin, The Transformation of German Jewry. 1780-1840
(Oxford: Oxf()rd University Press, 1987), p. 32.
118Cf. Jakob Friedrich Fries, "On the Danger to the Well-Being and
Character of the Germans Presented by the Jews" (1816), The Jew in the Modem
World: A Documentruy History, trans. M. Gelber, eds. Paul Mendes-Rohr and
Jehuda Reinharz (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980), pp. 258-9; Thorstein
Veblen, "The Intellectual Pre-Eminence of Jews in Modem Europe," Political
Science Quarterly 34 (1919): 33-42; Robert E. Park, "Human Migration and the
Marginal Man," The American Journal of Sociology 33 (1928): 881-93. A
comparison of Fries' 1816 essay and Veblen's and Park's essays a century later
reveals the perception of Jews in a more favorable light due partly to the benign
effects of Bildun&.

133
Modem German Jewry was distinguished by its acquisition of
and devotion to Bildung - the pursuit of Gennan culture and
learning. This 'Jewish love-affair with German culture: with its
strong emphasis on learning [Wissenschaft], may be considered
homologous with traditional Judaism's encouragement of and
respect for Rabbinic erudition. But one need not turn to the
'attitudinal' heritage of Judaism to fmd the factor engendering what
might be deemed German Jewry's nigh-obsessive pursuit of
Bildung. Prima facie, one may surmise that an eagerness to further
political emancipation compelled German lewry to demonstrate their
'belongingness' by acquiring German culture ... But why 'high
culture?' Was it not sufficient to demonstrate an understanding and
identification with the culture of the German Lebenswelt? One may
retort that the forces in German society most favorably disposed to
Jewish emancipation were the liberal educated elite - the votaries of
the AufkHirung - and thus it was natural that Jewry identify with
values of this elite, viz., the cultivation of reason, of enlightenment,
of Bildung.[ [9
Mendes-Aohr is speaking of a time frame beginning in 1812 - when Jews began
seeking an academic education -- through the 1890s -- when lews studied in
Prussian academies in "conspicuously disproportionate numbers."[20 Constructive
enterprises fostered by the subculture of Viennese Jewry still faced countervailing
movements informed by various degrees and kinds of antisemitism. Bildung itself,
as an instrument of secular humanism, could not be considered neutral in this
regard.

[[9Paul Mendes-Flohr, "The Study of the Jewish Intellectual: Some

Methodological Proposals," Essays in Modem Jewish HistOIY: A Tribute to Ben
Halpern, eds. Frances Malino and Phyllis Cohen Albert (Teaneck: Fairleigh
Dickinson University Press, 1982), p. 157.
[20See Peter Pulzer, The Rise of Political Antisemitism in Germany and
Austria (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1964), p. 6. "For every 10,000 males
of each denomination in Prussia, there studied at Prussian universities (as an
average for the period 1887-1897) 33 Catholics, 38 Protestants and 519 Jews."

134
Identity based on Bilduni had a double edge. On the one hand. it
represented the tradition of enlightenment. individualism and learning associated
with Moses Mendelssohn. who figured ideally as the "Horatio Alger of
Bildung."121 Carrying the idea of Bildung into musical thought. A. B. Marx. the
music theorist and Jewish protege of Humboldt's. translated Humboldt's
individualism into notions about the uniqueness of musical forms which were
increasingly understood to represent explorations into inwardness culminating in
Schoenberg's works such as Erwartung. Though there appears to be no directly
documentable connection between Humboldt and Schoenberg. Humboldt's
philosophy of history, especially its emphasis on inner necessity, reverberates
through Schoenberg's aesthetics. Given Humboldt's decisive part in the intellectual
life of the Viennese-Jewish subculture, his influence upon Schoenberg, albeit
indirect, is not surprising. On the other hand, implicit in Humboldt's idea of
Bildung is the intent to wean Jews away from Judaism:
Humboldt believed that the Jews themselves would gradually come
to recognize the superficiality of their ceremonial laws and would
ultimately, and of their own accord, turn to the higher faith of
Christianity. Humboldt did not have actual conversion in mind; but
as a humanist whose philosophy was rooted in the Christian ethos,

121 David Sorkin, The Transformation of German-Jewry, p. 97.

135
he believed that the Jews, too, could be led to humanism via the
Christian path. 122
Though Humboldt's intention may have been to wean Jews away from Judaism,
secular humanism was not sufficient. at least in Schoenberg's case. to anathematize
Judaism and supplant Jewish roots. If anything Bildun~ and Wissenschaft helped
to sustain Schoenberg's Viennese-Jewish identity symbiotically. In this sense
Schoenberg typifies the condition of intellectual fertility spurred by cultural
hybridization about which Veblen wrote: "It is by loss of allegiance. or at the best
by force of a divided allegiance to the people of his origin, that he [the gifted Jew]
finds himself in the vanguard of modem inquiry." 123 Schoenberg's enlightened
humanism and sense of Judaism as a religion of reason depended on their mutual
resonance. Only in the face of antisemitism was he aroused to reaffirm his Jewish
identity as an act of both moral and political defiance.
Schoenberg grew up at a time when the liberal underpinnings of the nascent
Jewish emancipation in Austria were eroding during an upsurge in antisemitism.
Religious rights and freedom granted incrementally after the Revolution of 1848
and finally guaranteed in a new constitution ratified in 1867 should have been
sufficient to ensure peace of mind to Jews during the last quarter of the century.
122Jacob Katz. Jewish Emancipation and Self-Emancipation (New York:
Jewish Publication Society, 1986). p. 80. See also Robert Musil, "The Religious
Spirit. Modernism. and Metaphysics" (1912), Precision and Soul, p. 21. Katz's
view accords with that of Musil who writes: "Modernism is the attempt to permeate
religion with middle-class reason - and in this, and not just the way it manifests
itself in individual instances, it is a form of Protestantism.
123Thorstein Veblen, "The Intellectual Pre-Eminence of Jews in Modem
Europe," Political Science Quarterly 34 (1919): 38.

136
But the liberalizing enterprise that resulted in greater civil liberties also unleashed
forces of intolerance against liberals and handcuffed Jews striving for political
solidarity. Assimilation militated against Jewish unity. After all. the point of
emancipation was to forge a citizenry. As Carl Schorske writes: "The liberals
succeeded in releasing the political energies of the masses. but against themselves
rather than against their ancient foes." 124 Robert Musil describes the fonn these
political energies took. through the eyes of Leo Fischel. an assimilated Jewish
banker. against whom the political winds of 1913 were blowing. Events and views
entirely contrary to Fischel's sense of history were on the ascent:
... the mood of the times would shift away from the old principles of
liberalism. that had favored Leo Fischel - the great guiding ideals of
tolerance. the dignity of man. and free trade - and reason and
progress in the Western world would be displaced by racial theories
and street slogans. he could not remain untouched by it either. He
started by flatly denying the existence of these changes ... and he
waited for them to disappear of their own accord. Such waiting is
the first. almost imperceptible degree of the torture of exasperation
that life inflicts on men of principle. The second degree is usually
called.. .'poison.' This poison is the appearance. by drop by drop.
of new views on morals. art, politics, the family, newspapers.
books and social life. already accompanied by the helpless feeling
that there is no turning back and by indignant denials, which cannot
avoid a certain acknowledgment the existence of the thing denied.
Nor was Director Fischel spared the third and final degree, when the
isolated showers and sprinklings of the New turned into a steady.
drenching rain. In time this becomes one of the most horrible

124Carl E. Schorske, Fin-De-Siecle Vienna: Politics and Culture (New

York: Vintage Books. 198 I), p. 117. See also David Sorkin, The Transfonnation
of Gennan Jewry 1780-1840 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), p. 173.
Sorkin writes: "By making the Jews' solidarity a public political issue, the racial
and political anti-Semitism which emerged in the last three decades of the century
made it impossible for German Jewry to acknowledge common bonds other than
those of religion or, starting in the the 189Os, the collective need to combat antiSemitism."

137
tonnents that a man who has only ten minutes a day to spare for
philosophy can experience. 125
Fischel. a character depicted as no more than ten years Schoenberg's senior,
represents the baffled response to antisemitism typical of liberal Jews including
Schoenberg. For Schoenberg in the years just before and during the war, the
hyphen of his hyphenated Gennan-Jewish identity fostered his artistic-religious
impulse as he was planning the multi-faceted Symphony 1914-15 from which Die
Jakobsleiter arose. Representing mundane and extra-mundane views of the world
through an eclectic selection of texts, Schoenberg sought to come to grips with a
modern understanding of faith and prayer. The hyphen was again bolstered by
feelings of patriotism intensified during World War L If we understand the hyphen
as holding out the promise of the German-Jewish symbiosis, then we can place the
Mattsee incident in context as not only the watershed event that as Mackelmann
writes acted as "the trigger for Schoenberg's own gradually developing engagement
with questions of Jewish religion and nationality." but also a-; the event which
problematized the hyphen. 126
Schoenberg and his brother Heinrich -- the mayor of Salzburg's son-in-law -took their families on vacation by the Mattsee near Salzburg in June 1921. As
Stuckenschmidt recounts the incident:

125Musil, The Man Without Qualities, vol. 1. pp. 219-20.

126Michael Mackelmann. Arnold Schonberg und das Judentum (Hamburger
Beitrage zur Musikwissenschaft 28; Hamburg, 1984), p. 16. Mackelmann refers to
the "incident" as a pogrom.

138
The idyll on the Mattsee was suddenly destroyed by antisemitic
demonstrations. The campaign against Jews in Austria and
Germany was pursued at the beginning of the Twenties by a cenain
type of Russian immigrants. One day a placard went up on the
walls in Mattsee demanding that all Jews present should leave the
place. The Schoenberg family had indeed been baptized in the
Evangelical church. However, Schoenberg felt insulted by the
demand of the local authorities to prove his Christianity. They fIrst
of all decided to return to Vienna and pretend that the climate did not
suit Schoenberg. However the affair leaked out. An article
appeared in the Neue Freie Presse: Salzburg Papers make Polemics
against Schoenberg. 127
Two year later Schoenberg was still seething. Two often quoted letters to
Kandinsky reveal Schoenberg's hypersensitivity to the entire spectrum of
antisemitism; he refers especially to Hitler's leading the vanguard of racial
antisemites, and to the "Elders of Zion." And in the wake of a World War where
people can speak dispassionately of" 100,000 dead," Schoenberg could see the
"wretched but robust elements [of society] rising up." 128
Schoenberg invested himself in a series of controversial political writings
beginning with Der biblische We&. a 1926 play that has gone unproduced and only
recently published. 129 Not only is it a precursor to the opera Moses und Aron, but
it reveals Schoenberg's view that for Jews to "possess the land" they must adhere
to the ethics of their forefathers by following the biblical path. These political
writings culminate in Schoenberg's "A Four-Point Program for Jewry." Noting a

127Stuckenschmidt. Arnold

Schoenbeq~,

p. 274.

128Schoenberg - Kandinsky Correspondence, p. 80.

129Amold Schoenberg. Der biblische We&, ed. trans. Moshe Lazar, Journal
of the Arnold Schoenber& Institute 17 (1994): 162-329

139
dictatorial tone in this document, Herbert Lindenberger wonders about
Schoenberg's off-stage politics, especially given Schoenberg's admitted autocratic
tendencies which revealed themselves when he presided over the Verein fUr
Privatauffurungen around 1920. Lindenberger writes:
As head of an actual Jewish government, Schoenberg, if one may
judge from his aesthetic politics, might well have treated his enemies
with a harshness that we have come to associate with some of the
more totalitarian political leaders of our century. 130
This view seems to receive Edward Said's imprimatur in that it reinforces the
intimation of a parallel between Nazi and Zionist politics. 131 As a corrective to
these views, Bluma Goldstein offers an interesting and good response to just this
point:
... there are indications that "The Biblical Way," Moses and Aaron,
and Schoenberg's return to Judaism are responses to his experiences
of growing antisemitism and the rise of National Socialism. Indeed
Schoenberg's prominent concern in the work with a Volk (people)
and FUhrer (leader) who are to be united in a spiritual mission
suggests an alternative to the Volk-FUhrer ideology used to promote
a "thousand-year Reich" controlled absolutely by a
dictator. .. Schoenberg's Moses wants not to lead, but through his
agency to have the people devote themselves entirely to the one
eternal unrepresentable God ... The idea of a people chosen for a
spiritual mission that offers no worldly gain may best be interpreted,
as it is in the opera, as a means of uniting a people in opposition to

130Herbert Lindenberger, "Arnold Schoenberg's Der biblische Weg and

Moses und Aran," pp. 67-68.
13 I Edward Said. Musical Elaborations (New York: Columbia University
Press, 1991), pp. 42, 95.

140
an exploitative situation and to an oppressor, be it Pharaoh or
Hitler.l 32
This view is all the more poignant given the context of 1926: five years after
Schoenberg's personal encounter with antisemitism ("the Mattsee Incident"), three
years after the Munich Putsch, one year after Jabotinsky founded the World Union
of Zionist Revisionists and during a time when Herzl's most dire predictions for
European Jewry seemed to be corning true. Schoenberg endured a backlash against
his appointment to succeed Busoni at the Prussian Academy of Arts and suffered a
racist attack directed against him by the music scholar Alfred Heuss. 133
With respect to the Mattsee incident and the ensuing events, there is a turn

,0

Schoenberg's historical consciousness from the ideology of Jewish reform toward

the views of Heinrich Graetz. whose 1888 Volksrumliche Geschichte der Juden
was an addition to Schoenberg's library in 1926. and Jacob Klatzkin, a philosopher
and correspondent of Schoenberg's since 1930. Graetz's history, which is still
enormously influential, arises from his objections to Reform views. This was an
argument that had to be waged in terms of philosophies of Jewish history because

132Bluma Goldstein, Reinscribing Moses, p. 165. See also David Sorkin,

"The Invisible Community: Emancipation, Secular Culture and Jewish Identity in
the Writings of Berthold Auerbach," The Jewish Response to Gennan Culture:
From the Enlightenment to the Second World War, eds. Jehuda Reinharz and
Walter Schatzberg (London: Clark University Press, 1985), pp. 111-15. Sorkin
defines the disparity between the Gennan romantic and German-Jewish concepts of
Volk.
I 33For Alfred Heuss's attack against Schoenberg, see Ringer, Arnold
Schoenberg: The Composer as Jew, pp. 224-6.

141

the philosophy of history that prevailed would have the most impact upon the future
shape of Judaism. Generally speaking, according to Ismar Schorsch:

In nineteenth-century Gennany the study of Jewish history

functioned as both authority and medium. Construed as authority, ~
proper reading of Jewish histoQ' could yield the indispensable
guidelines and validatin& principles to detennine the future shape of
Judaism. Invoked as medium, Jewish history could readily provide
an interpretation of Judaism in terms of the idealistic idiom of the
century.134 (Emphasis added.)
It is no coincidence that this is the very same use of history to which Popper
objected when he saw Schoenberg and his students apply it to music. However,
the turn toward Graetz did not entail a turn away from this kind of historicism.
Graetz set his philosophy of history clearly apart from the philosophy of history of
the Reform movement. Ismar Schorsch identifies four defining characteristics in
this regard. Where Reform proffered a philosophy of history concerned with final
causes. thus teleological at its core, Graetz followed Humboldt by attempting to
represent events in their particularity. Graetz then sought to relate different periods
with respect to their similitude thus revealing a cyclical dimension to Jewish
history. Consistent with these first two characteristics, Graetz emphasized
continuity in that Jewish history does not proceed by supersessive phases, but
rather "all facets continue to remain operative and valid." 135 Schoenberg takes the
same non-supersessionist position vis-a-vis music. Graetz expresses the nonsuspersessive non-teleological position this way:

134Ismar Schorsch, From Text to Context, p. 267.

135Ibid .. p. 285.

142
And since these three dimensions have assumed historical fonn,
they must have lain in the original idea of Judaism, as the tree in the
seed, and according to this view of history, it seems that the task of
Judaism's God-idea is to found a religious state which is conscious
of its activity, purpose, and connection with the world. 136
This quote indicates the fourth defining characteristic, namely, a political as well as
a religious structure of social organization. By thus incorporating a nationalist
ideology into Jewish history, Graetz and subsequently Schoenberg and Klatzkin
hold a view even more intensely objectionable to anti-nationalists such as Popper
and Schwarzschild.137 Be that as it may, while the other three aspects of Graetz's
philosophy of history may have been in accord with Schoenberg's general historical
framework for both Judaism and music, this nationalistic dimension may have been
the most liberating in his dissociation from things Gennan. Jacob Klatzkin (18821948) made his Zionist appeal directly to national-historical sentiment:
136Heinrich Graetz, The Structure of Jewish History and Other Essays,
trans. Ismar Schorsch (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America.
1975), p. 124.
137Steven S. Schwarzschild, "Adorno and Schoenberg as Jews Between
Kant and Hegel" in Year Book of the Leo Baeck Institute 35 (1990), p. 474.
Schwarzschild, allowing that Schoenberg may have in his return to Judaism
"overcompensated," still finds nothing redeemable in Schoenberg's politics of
1933:
But in full maturity Schoenberg's European and Zionist politics
were on the extreme Right of the spectrum: monarchist-capitalist in
Europe and Jabotinsky 'Revisionist' for PalestinelIsrael. By 1923
(sic) he was a full-fledged 'Revisionist,' - 'nationalisticchauvinistic to the highest degree, in the religious sense, based on
the notion of the chosen people, militant, aggressive, against all
pacifism, against all internationalism.' ... He was to say that
'racism is an imitation ... of the faith of the Jews in their own
destiny ... " although he again stresses that theirs is a religious
faith. He opposes democracy and plans a dictatorial Fuhrer-role for
himself.

143

...Judaism rests on an objective basis: To be a Jew means the

acceptance of neither a reli~ious nor an ethical creed. We are neither
a denomination nor a school of thought, but members of one family,
bearers of a common history. Denying the Jewish spiritual teaching
does not place one outside the community, and accepting it does not
make one a Jew. In short. to be part of the nation one need not
believe in the Jewish religion or the Jewish spiritual outlook...The
national definition, too, requires an act of will. It defines our
nationalism by two criteria: partnership in the past and the
conscious desire to continue such partnership in the future. There
are therefore, two bases for Jewish nationalism - the compulsion of
history and a will expressed in that history.l38
Schoenberg was manifestly engaged in the tasks of this partnership, and his effort
should not be diminished even though it received little response. Ringer and
Mackelmann have already presented and discussed Schoenberg's major political
writings in important essays. I will present three much smaller documents which
present: I) Schoenberg's anathematization of the hyphen - the link with German
culture. 2) his message that Jewish unity is essential for Jewish survival, and 3) his
plan for a Jewish government in exile.
In an essay that stilI has a lot of resonance for Jewish readers today,
Schoenberg's "Jeder junge Jude" speaks of the failure of the "assimilation" as the
instrument of emancipation:
... Somit war die Assimilations-Bewegung ein Produkt des
Unglaubens und der Teilnahme an den oberflachen
abendlandicschen Wissenschaften und Kiinsten.
Die Assimilations-Bewegung aber war den westlichen Juden und
den westlich-gewordenen ostlichen Juden ein Ersatz fur den MessiasGlauben ...
Wir wollen ihre Wissenschaft, ihre Kiinste, ihre Sitten, ihre
Gebrauche nicht mehr; wir wollen los von ihnen und so wie sich der

138Jacob KIatzkin, "Boundaries," The Zionist Idea: A Historical Analysis

and Reader, ed. Arthur Hertzberg (New York: Athenenum, 1981), p. 317.

144
Fuchs ein Bein ausreisst - der Schlaue - wenn er in die Falle
geraten ist - so wollen wir uns alles ausreissen lassen. was sie
Zllliickbehalten wollen - wenn wir nur von ihnen loskommen! 139
[... Thus the assimilation movement was a product of unbelief in
conjunction with the superficial western sciences and arts.
The assimilation movement was but a substitute for the messianic
belief of western and of westernized eastern Jews ...
We want no more of their science. their art. their morals. their
customs; we want to be free of them. and just as the fox tears off its
leg - the cunning animal - if he is caught in a trap - thus we would
allow ourselves to tear off all that they would hold onto - if only we
are free of them!]
For Schoenberg to compare the assimilation movement - Bildung. Wissenschaft,
AufkJarung - with Jewish messianic hope is no exaggeration. Nor is it an
exaggeration for Schoenberg to want to emancipate Jewry from an outdated
emancipation process that held danger in the twentieth century instead of the
promise it offered in the nineteenth. By 1934 Schoenberg had already reclaimed the
political necessity of Jewish unity which was antithetical to the goals of
assimilation.
In a letter dated December 23, 1933 to Rabbi Joseph S. Shubow of Boston,
Schoenberg expresses the core idea of his political philosophy:
Das jiidische Volk muss endlicb aufi1oren, Hilfe von anderen zu
erwarten. Es muss sich aus eigener Kraft helfen. sonst wird es
zugrunde - gehn."140

139Arnold Schoenberg. "Jeder junge Jude" (February 1934). Journal of the

Arnold Schoenberg Institute 17 (1994): 455.
I40Schoenberg to Rabbi Joseph S. Shubow of Boston. 23 December 1933,
Arnold Schoenberg Archive Library of Congress.

145
[The Jewish people must fmally give up awaiting help from
others. It must help itself through its own strength, otherwise it
shall perish.] (My translation.)
Here Schoenberg stresses the idea of Jewish unity, the very thing that was
impossible under the program of assimilation which demanded that Jews not
organize politically as such.

In a letter typed in English to Jakob Klatzkin, Schoenberg outlined the

"Government in Exile" plan, which again emphasizes Jewish unity. Schoenberg
excludes any mention of himself as president, even though his role in the plan is
substantial:
For many years, since I saw the difficulty to achieve unity among
Jews, I developed a plan, which offers perhaps the only chance of
saving us. I will tell you briefly the main features of it:
For 2000 years Jews live in exile. But never have they
conceived the idea of a GOVERNMENT IN EXILE. I plan to either
buy or try to get it as a gift or as a loan a ship upon which to erect
the Government in Exile of the Jewish Nation. This government
will have to acquire recognition from all the great powers and to
secure their cooperation. It will issue its orders to the Jews in all
countries, will order them to organize themselves, will make them
pay taxes and make other contributions, so as e.g.through
propaganda, education and preparation for the final action. -- The
government will in the meantime negotiate laws with all the nations
so that the taxes will be paid and transferred to the government.
Furthermore it will negotiate that a certain part of a country will be
sold, loaned or given as a Protectorate for a Jewish independent
State. The prize to be paid in yearly installments of between 10 to
30 Million Dollars. This amount can easily be raised if the about
five millions of Jews pay annual tax 10 to 20 Dollars per capita.
(Details to be worked out by our experts) These taxes and
investments in real estate in the Jewish territory by Jews and
Gentiles will also pay the transportation into the country and the
cultivation of the country. - I have also good plans for our
activities in the country in order to "make a living."
This project sounds more phantastic than it is.
It seems doubtless that all the countries of the earth will gladly
contribute everything to (shall I say: Get rid of us, or) help us.

146
Let me hear what you think of this plan.l 41
Replying in German from New York. Klatzkin responded to Schoenberg within
two weeks, writing:
Ich habe Ihre Anregung einigen fuehrenden Persoenlichkeiten der
Judischen Oeffentlichkeit vorgetragen, aber ohne Erfolg. Es wurde
mir erklaert:
1) dass der Plan eines Iuedischen Governments in Exile nicht
durchfuehrbar sei, da dieses von massgebenden Regierungen nicht
anerkannt werden wuerde;
2) dass ein Juedisches Government am besten in Palestina
errichtet werden koenne, was wohl demnaechst der Fall sein
duerfte.
Waeren Sie etwa bereit, einen Artikel ueber Ihren Plan abzufassen
und mir zur Verfuegung zu stellen. Ich wuerde mich, falls Sie es
wuenschen, um die Veroeffentlichung dieses Aufsatzes
bemuehen. 142
[I have forwarded your suggestion to some of the leading
personalities of the Jewish Public, but without response. It would
appear to me:
1) that the plan for a Jewish Government in Exile would not be
feasible, because it would not be recognized by standard
governments.
2) that a Jewish Government could best be erected in Palestine,
which soon may well be the case.
If you were abOut ready to compose an article about your plan and
make it available to me. I would, if you wish it, take the trouble
over the publication of this essay myself.] (My translation.)

141Schoenberg to Jakob Klatzkin, April 21, 1946, Arnold Schoenberg

Archive, Library of Congress.
142Jacob Klatzkin to Schoenberg, May 3, 1946, Arnold Schoenberg
Archive, Library of Congress. See also Schoenberg to Committee for Relief of
Yemenite Jews, May 26, 1950, Library of Congress. Apart from C.A.R.E.
packages sent to relatives in Europe, Schoenberg's charitable contribution for the
relief of Yemenite Jews also speaks to a sense of Jewish unity.

147
Views such as these stand on the premise of Jewish nationalism elaborated in
Graetz's philosophy of history. The tone of these views is intensified by
Schoenberg's reaction to a climate increasingly violent antisemitism.
Modem Judaism's tum to history, spawned in the emergence of
Wissenschaft des Judentums and influenced by Humboldt's philosophy of history,
is reenacted by Schoenberg in a way that converged with the aesthetics of inner
necessity. Many of the ideas we think of as pure Schoenberg in this regard were
refracted through the Viennese Jewish subculture in the latter haIf of the nineteenth
century. Schoenberg's mark upon the intellectual history of Bildun& lies in his
integration of the ideas of self-formation and genius: "Talent is the capacity to
learn. genius the capacity to develop oneself...the development of genius. which
seeks new pathways into the boundless. extends throughout a lifetime." 143 The
Humboldtian tone of the essay on Mahler is pervasive. In 1822. Humboldt writes:
An historical presentation. like an artistic presentation. is an
imitation of nature. The basis of both is the recognition of the true
form. the discovery of the necessary. the elimination of the
accidental. We must, therefore, not disdain to apply the more

143Amold Schoenberg. "Gustav Mahler" (1912. 1948), Style and Idea. p.

468.

148
readily recognizable method of the artist to an understanding of the
more dubious method employed by the historian.l 44
Emulating organic forms, historical and artistic representations do not pattern
themselves on the basis of outward appearances, but "from within, based on
antecedent study of the way in which the outward shape emerges from the idea and
structure of the whole and by abstracting from the proportions of the outward
shape."145 This is precisely the point Schoenberg attempts to make vis-a-vis
Mahler's orchestration:
What fIrst strikes one about Mahler's instrumentation is the
almost unexampled objectivity with which he writes down only
what is absolutely necessary. His sound never comes from
ornamental additions, from accessories that are related not at all or
only distantly to the important material, and that are put down only
as decorations. But where it soughs, it is the theme which soughs;
the themes have such a form and so many notes that it immediately
becomes clear that the soughing is not the aim of the passage. but its
form and its content. 146
Schoenberg's long essay on Mahler, reverberating as it does with Humboldt's
conception of BiIdung, is a remarkable window on the ideals of the VienneseJewish subculture. Schoenberg couches his eulogy of Mahler in a way outwardly

I44Wilhelm von Humboldt. "iibec die Aufeabe des GeschichtsChreibers,"

Abhandlun&en der Historisch-Philosophischen Klasse dec Koni&lichen
Preussischen Akademie dec Wissenschaften aus den Jahren 1820-2 I (Berlin, 1822)
translated as "On the Historian's Task," HistolY and TheOlY 6 (1967): 61. See
also Schorsch, p. 286. Heinrich Graetz. the influential Jewish historian, also was
mindful of Humboldt's philosophy of history. After 1921, Schoenberg's sense of
Jewish identity becomes more clearly affiliated with Graetz's view.
145Ibid., p. 61.
I46Arnold Schoenberg. "Gustav Mahler" (1912, 1948), Style and Idea. p.
463.

149
understandable to all, but inwardly and most appropriately understandable in tenns
of the highest ideals of the Jewish community from which they both came.
Conversely, in the 1934 document "Jeder jun&e Jude," Schoenberg repudiates
those very points of contact instrumental in shaping modem Judaism, most notably
Wissenschaft.147
Schoenberg's thought about history and art was shaped by the emancipation
experience of Gennan Jewry and the corresponding emergence of historical
consciousness in modem Judaism. Multi-faceted strains of philosophic, aesthetic,
religious thought converge and find expression in Schoenberg's thought and art.
The legal basis of Jewish aesthetics accords with the idea of creation imitatio dei so
that abstraction is favored over literal reproduction and the art work is a vision of
the new. Events-oriented history, following Humboldt. likewise places a premium
on the particularity of events. While higher perspectives may reveal comprehensive
forms of organization -- such as the cyclical pattern in history and in music
represented by Graetz and by Schoenberg respectively - historical events are new
events just as "art is new art." Schoenberg typifies the middle-class of the VienneseJewish subculture whose embrace of Gennan high culture in conjunction with a
religious impulse are reflected in the experience and representation of time as the
onrushing future. Exceptional by virtue of his genius, Schoenberg's life as a
composer reflects this experience just as his music captures it.

147Arnold Schoenberg. "Jeder jun&e Jude," Journal of the the Arnold

Institute xvn (1994): 455.

Schoenber~

150

CHAPfERm
THE EMERGENCE OF SCHOENBERG'S mSTORICAL CONSCIOUSNESS

Schoenberg's historical consciousness emerges through lectures, essays

and treatises - both polemical and pedagogical -- written over a span of more than
fifty years. It is a body of writings that co-evolved with and in response to his
composing and teaching. In the wake of so many scandalous premieres and for the
sake of his students and the public, Schoenberg wrote prose, from the first
polemical essays of 1909 which cry foul over the hostility of critics and audiences,
to the reflective essays of 1949 and 1951 which try to make comprehensible
musical relationships within and among works composed ten, twenty, thirty and
forty years earlier.
Within this body of work, four perspectives predominate. One view seeks
unity, rationality and continuity in history and follows naturally from an aesthetic
view that idealizes the same qualities in the musical work. Another view admits
uncertainty, discontinuity and sudden leaps in history. This view is more open in
its architecture. It is less work-oriented than process-oriented, more ideal-seeking

151
than ideal. It is a view that reflects Schoenberg's aesthetics of concision expressed

in the 1913 article "Why New Melodies Are Difficult to Understand. "I 80th of
these views arise from an internalist position. that the story of the music resides in
the musical details. Yet both views are affected by a third perspective. that of social
history. This is the view that dominates the earliest writings. though it gradually
recedes into the background where it manipulates and modulates the rhetoric of the
other two. Fourth. there is the view that represents the phenomenology of
creativity by which Schoenberg reports what it is like to be inspired by an idea and
to attempt to realize it compositionally. Schoenberg's report of sensing the total
impression of a work from the start. and composing very rapidly accords with the
unified view. Still the experience is sufficiently open and subject to variation that
the process never becomes mechanical. And in contrast with the perspective of
social history, the report of creative experience is all the more poignant by virtue of
opponents who argued that Schoenberg's methods were artistically unsound.
Our endeavor in this chapter is to make a fabric of Schoenberg's remarks
concerning each of his works by drawing together swatches from the various
essays. 8 y this process we hope to be able to determine: (1) the range of his
contextualizations, (2) the degree to which they build up some coherent picture of a
work's place. (3) the degree to which a historical narrative emerges amidst the

I From a handwritten copy transcribed by Bryan Simms. Arnold

Schoenberg Institute. See chapter one above for text and translation.

152
many polemics, and (4) the extent to which history follows aesthetics in the sense
that a work could be said to embody its historical position. 2
The Unified View. According to the metaphysics of the ancient Greek
philosopher Thales, "all is water." In a manner reminiscent of this kind of
universal statement. Schoenberg says, "there is nothing in a piece of music ... but
the theme itself. "3 In other words, all is theme, and all events in a composition are
understood in reference to the theme. Such metaphysics bespeaks a sense of
compositional unity in that the theme inhabits the piece throughout all its phases.
Moreover, this axiom bespeaks a deterministic view which Schoenberg stresses in
statements such as: "all the shapes appearing in a piece of music are foreseen in the
'theme'" and ..... new shapes ... are unfolded, rather as a film is unrolled. "4 An
unwinding film reel is the perfect simile for inner necessity since the contents of the
film are entirely determined and accident-proof. For all its promise of a certain
future, the image of film unrolling implies an indifference to time (and to the
intangibles of music in performance) since the theme is preserved, even in "new

2See He~el's Aesthetics, trans. T. M. Knox, (Oxford: Clarendon Press,

1991), p. 360-1. An example of this fourth criterion would be Hegel's critique of
the Egyptian Sphinx which he interprets as symbolic of a historical stage in human
development: "Out of the dull strength and power of the animal the human spirit
tries to push itself forward, without coming to a perfect portrayal of its own
freedom and animated shape, because it must still remain confused and associated
with what is other than itself."
3Schoenberg, "Linear Counterpoint" (1931) Style and Idea, p. 290.
4Ibid.

153
shapes," and the future flXed.S Despite the deterministic view, Schoenberg found
the subtle unifying relationships he discovered in his own scores not only deeply
satisfying, but so surprising that he had to consider them gifts from heaven.
Borrowing Hayden White's metahistorical categories - the modes of
emplotment, argument and ideological implication - and applying them respectively
to this view of a musical work, we would consider this view: romantic. in that the
whole transcends the sum of the composer's conscious effort; organicist. in that the
elements are presumed to be integrated into a unified whole; and, conservative, in
that the same thematic idea is the one source out of which all the other elements are
fashioned and unfold gradually.6 Synecdoche is the figure that expresses this
view. As early as 1912, in an essay first published in Der Blaue Reiter,
Schoenberg employs synecdoche when comparing the musical work to an
organism: "When one cuts into any part of the human body, the same thing always

SSee Leszek Kolakowski, Ber~son (Oxford: Oxford University Press,

1985), p. 2. Kolakowski uses the same image of a fIlm reel as a metaphor for the
determinist position: "... the course of events consists, as it were, in displaying a
destiny written in advance for all eternity, as if time were only a machine to unwind
a film reel which has been there all along, with its entire story."
6Hayden White, Metahistory: The Historicallrna~natiQn in NineteenthCentUlY Europe (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973), pp. 738. This borrowing is not intended to justify Schoenberg's metaphysics, nor is it
intended to propose an analogy between a musical work and a historical work.
White's metahistorical analysis is however useful in characterizing Schoenberg's
metaphysics which conveys figuratively a view of content and form in time.

154
comes out - blood. "7 Likewise in art, the inner essence of the whole is manifest in

all its parts. This view, one openly indebted to Goethe and Schopenhauer, is a
basis for understanding individual musical works. But in its impetus to be
integrative and to achieve synthesis, it can also be the basis for understanding
works of art in historical relationship to one another in order to define an aesthetic,
practice or period. 8 Schoenberg does this as an artist who understands the need for
context. though he does so without becoming wissenschaftIich about it.
The View Against Determinism. Despite the vaunted claims for the unity of
musical structure. the stamp of necessity and the certitude of determinism.
Schoenberg's music is not celebrated for the sense of certainty it inspires; and the
capacity of listeners to cope with uncertainty has led to widely varied aesthetic
judgments. Dr. Jamshed Bharucha. a psychologist interested in how the brain
responds to music offers this morose view of the ceding of tonality in twentiethcentury music: "Western music pushed the limit of these violations [i.e. violations
of tonal expectation] until. in the early twentieth century, the whole thing
coUapsed."9 Joseph Agassi. philosopher and scientist. responds positively to the
aesthetics of what he calls the "mood of uncertainty" in Schoenberg's music. He

7Schoenberg. "The Relationship to the Text" (1912). Style and Idea, p.

144.
8Ibid., pp. 141-2.
9"The Mystery Of Music: How It Works In The Brain," New York
Times. 16 May 1995. sec. C. p. CW. The author continues: "Composers like
Schoenberg minimized expectation completely but it never caught on with popular
audiences. "

155
sees it not as a symptom of destruction or collapse, but rather as an important
expression of the pervasiveness of the modem scientific ethos which he
characterizes as one of complete assurance and complete uncertainty.1 0 In
Schoenberg's capacity for uncertainty by which he can throw his enterprise into
jeopardy through sudden shifts of meth<><L and complementary capacity for
assurance by which traditional methods are ever available, Agassi notes a kinship
between the historiography of art and ethos of science. Adorno, less
enthusiastically than Agassi, stresses potentiality over determinacy in Schoenberg
writing: "The late Schoenberg composed not works, but paradigms of a possible
music." II In contrast to the detenninistic view Schoenberg sets forth in "Linear
Counterpoint" (1931), we should recall the less deterministic views discussed in
previous chapters, especially the speculative writing in the Hannonielehre, and this
unpublished excerpt:
It can be said that the egg contains everything of that what (sic)
will constitute later a creature. It would be wrong to contend that the
same is the case with a motive. It has perhaps not more relation to
the composition than the astronomical constellation has to the future
of a man: there are some possibilities given and some restrictions:
but it remains to be seen how this man will use these chances or

JOJoseph Agassi, "Assurance and Agnosticism," Science in Aux (Boston:

D. Reidel Publishing Company, 1975), pp. 515-23.
I I Theodore Adorno. "Arnold Schoenberg, 1874-1951," Prisms
(Cambridge: The MIT Press, 1986). p. 171.

156
escape those menaces; and thus it remains to be seen what will
become of a motive.I2
This, in a nutshelf (or eggshell), is Schoenberg's requirement for new art:
unforeseeability in the way it discloses new ideas, and not simple waywardness.
Schoenberg wrote at least three essays on the motto "New Music."13 It is a slogan
from which he distances himself as it represents the same bad ideology Popper
attributed to him. "New Music" has no desire for the present to sustain the past in
any way, rather it attempts to fulfill an ideology devised with the intent to vitiate the
continuity of tradition by fiat. "New Music" per se is a social movement and as
such it is external to music history.
Schoenberg's axiomatic dictum that "there is nothing in a piece of music but
the theme itself' does not completely rule out a non-detenninistic position. Had
Schoenberg been more inclusive of and forthcoming about his compositional
fragments and the often disorderly and multi-directional nature of his creative
process, the non-detenninistic view would be plainer and the case for the power of
sloppy creativity would be more apparent.I 4 But this view is not totally suppressed

12Schoenberg, "It Can Be Said... " unpublished MS., n.d., original in

English, Archives of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute, 3pp.
13Schoenberg, "New Music" (1923), "New Music: My Music" (ca. 1930)
and "New Music, Outmoded Music, Style and Idea" (1946), Style and Idea.
14Schoenberg's compositional fragments such as his setting for the opening
of Hauptmann's Und Pippa tanzt! tend to be somewhat conservative in the use of
rather generic tonal materials. It is in the original way he combines these materials
that Schoenberg's hand becomes evident. U423, U424, U425, August 1906March 1907, Archives of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute.

157
either, especially with respect to the importance of variation, which is the hallmark
of this view. In contrast to the unified view, the non-deterministic view is not so
much romantic as it is comic in that the composer's effort is richer in surprises.
This opens the door for punctuations of a radical nature that can throw systematic
stability into jeopardy, though perhaps it is better described as more liberal than
radical in that the basic motivation is to seek a more ideal way to compose.
The closed architecture of unity and the open architecture of variation are
Schoenberg's complementary and overriding concerns. And Schoenberg's
expression of these concerns transfers not only to his artistic enterprise, but more
broadly, to questions of history and time in general. In other words, within
Schoenberg's intrinsically musical thought. there are basic concepts which
constitute a source for the creation of historical narratives about music.
Social History: The "Lachrymose" View.l 5 Where Schoenberg's
biographers note triumphs -- the premiere of the Gurrelieder is an instance -Schoenberg declares disappointment. This is typical of Schoenberg's lachrymose
view that all of society's forces were inexorably aligned against him. But rather
than take the self-pitying tone of the tragedian who himself is being crushed by
insurmountable opposition, Schoenberg outflanks his opponents by adopting the

15See Salo Baron. "Ghetto and Emancipation," The Menorah Journal XIV
(June 1928), p. 526. See also Ismar Schorsch. From Text To Context: The Turn
to HistolY in Modern Judaism (London: Brandeis University Press, 1994), pp.
376-88. Salo Wittmayer Baron (1895-1989) described historiography which dwelt
upon a people's woes and sufferings as the "lachrymose theory." As Ismar
Schorsch notes. Baron named this conception of history in order to oppose it. A
lachrymose conception of Jewish history has long been endemic to Jewish
historical writing.

158
satirical tone - the very antithesis of romanticism - of Kraus and Kafka. and
negates his oppressors by dint of his very survival.
By couching his social situation in a lachrymose view, Schoenberg
embodies in himself an archetypal construction of Jewish history that was based
upon centuries of persecution and unrelenting woe. A typically lachrymose
expression such as "... how the Jewish people managed to avoid drowning amid its
endless suffering... "16 echoes in Schoenberg's expression: "I had fallen into an
ocean ... of overheated water...All I could do was swim against the tide -- whether it
saved me or not!"17 Likewise. the canard that the Jew is Satan's confederate
reverberates in Schoenberg's remark: "I was primarily regarded as the Satan of
modernistic music."18 But satire alone would not be adequate against the
intransigence of his enemies.
In a virtual reenactment about a hundred years after the tum toward the

developmental view of history assimilated by Jewish scholars from German

16See Ismar Schorsch. From Text To Context, p. 103. See also Joseph B.
Soloveitchik, Halakhic Man, trans. Lawrence Kaplan (philadelphia: Jewish
Publication Society, 1983), p. 120. Letter to Jakob Klatzkin, 21 April 1946,
Library of Congress. Soloveitchik writes: "... the Jewish people experience their
own history. a history that floats upon the stormy waters of time." The metaphor
"history is a sea" resonates with the miraculous crossing of the Red Sea.
Schoenberg's idea that a Jewish Government in Exile should be established as a
ship of state in international waters is another evocation of this metaphor.
17Stuckenschmidt, Arnold Schoenben~, p. 546.
18See Joshua Trachtenberg, The Devil and the Jew (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1943); Schoenberg, "How One Becomes Lonely," Style and
Idea, p. 42.

159
philosophy for the sake of preserving and revitalizing their religious ideals.
Schoenberg likewise turned toward developmental models for similar purposes
which eventually in the course of his career converged with religious ideals as well.
The common purpose of promoting historical understanding to survive precarious
times links Schoenberg to the emergence in Jewish quarters of historical
consciousness that arose in Heine's day. In their respective fields. both
Schoenberg and Leopold Zunz. the father ofWissenschaft des Judenrums a century
earlier, made the work of Kant and Hegel. Humboldt, Goethe and Herder the
substrata for particular strains of organic growth. 19 As suggested earlier. what ties
Zunz and Schoenberg respectively to the first and final stages of a common tradition
of historical consciousness was the crisis over Jewish emancipation which led to an
obsession with notions such as Bildung and Innerlichkeit. These ideas are
implanted in the Jewish subculture by the emancipation's strongest German
advocate Wilhelm von Humboldt. It is Humboldt who defines the historian's task
as one concerned with the inner necessity of events while the artist's task is to
create only the appearance of necessity. As music came increasingly to be
understood in terms of a developmental historical process, inner necessity itself and
not just its appearance became the artist's creative task. On this view, Schoenberg
argued on behalf of his work in tenns of the coincidence of history and the internal
details of musical logic.

19Ismar Schorsch, From Text to Context (London: Brandeis University

Press, 1994), pp. 246-8.

160

II
The Phenomenolo~ of Creative Experience as the Basis for a History of
Works. Much of what Schoenberg wrote about music, he wrote without explicit
reference to his own compositions. Schoenberg mentions his own works in
roughly one fifth of the one hundred and four essays collected in Style and Idea. 20
(And in only about one quarter of that one fifth, Schoenberg presents substantially
illustrated historical discussions of his own music.)21 There is a unique dynamic in
this one fifth as Schoenberg's thought about music confronts his composing. This
confrontation has a refractory effect breaking down universal assertions about
music into discrete historical problems which become a multitude of narrative
threads to follow. These threads build up in sedimentary fashion so that in the later
essays many narrative layers are present even if they are seemingly opposed. This
is a virtue as well in that over the years one fmds a consistency in both thought and
autobiographical reporting; there is a coherent sense of self.

20Amold Schoenberg, Style and Ide~ ed. Leonard Stein, trans. Leo Black,
(Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1984).
21These essays which occur in Style and Idea are: "How One Becomes
Lonely" (1937), "Composition With Twelve Tones (1)" (1941), "Heart and Brain
in Music" (1946), "Composition With Twelve Tones (2)" (ca. 1948), "My
Evolution" (1949). Also included in this list should be Schoenberg's "Analysis of
the Four Orchestral Songs Opus 22" Perspectives on Schoenber~ and Stravinsky,
ed. Benjamin Boretz, trans. Claudio Spies (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1968), pp. 25-45. In addition program notes of Schoenberg's are collected in
Arnold Schoenber&: Self Portrait, ed. Nuria Schoenberg Nono (Pacific Palisades:
Belmont Music Publishers, 1988).

161
The earlier writings show Schoenberg's belief in a vital sense of self, and
the tendency of such vitality to strive toward the future. 22 This sense of self is
contingent upon an interaction of mind and experience that suggests an infInitely
growing inward process of self awareness.23 In Musil's terms, this nonratioid
process intimates a projection of consciousness throu~h time which requires a
corresponding projection of time. Schoenberg's Theory of Harmony, like Musil's
essays point in this direction. 24 Attributing one's sense of the future to the protean
dynamics of the self is one thing. Looking back upon a corpus of completed work
is another. Schoenberg's works, as they assume historical roles. become the basis
for a poetics of history. Where Schoenberg once wrote prospectively with the
predominant themes of possibility and boundless variation in the 1910s and 1920s,
he writes retrospectively of necessity and completion in the 1930s and '4Os. By the

22Schoenberg, Theory of Harroony, p. 239. "Yet, I do believe in the new;

I believe it is that QQQg and that Beauty toward which we strive with our innermost
being, just as involuntarily and persistently as we strive toward the future."
23See Charles Taylor, Sources of the Self (Cambridge: Harvard University
Press, 1989), p. 462. " ... the tum inward may take us beyond the self as usually
understood, to a fragmentation of experience which calls our ordinary notions of
identity into question, as with Musil for example."
24Historicist ideologies justifiably criticized by Popper attached themselves
to this more abstract sense of futurity as music history became interwoven into the
German national epic and as social Darwinism made a science of supremacy.

162
late 1940s, he designates "time frames" of creative activity according to a tripartite
scheme. 25

In a letter from 1947, we fmd the time frames outlined most succinctly: "I.
up to 1908 II. 1908-1923 ill. 1923 _>."26 Since three time frames can be defined
by specifying only two cusp years, Schoenberg chooses to leave the beginning and
ending indefinite. The two cusp years have the status of a musical double bar,
marking where something comes to an end and something new begins. How
abruptly the transition from ending to beginning occurs -- i.e. the extent to which
the beginning is understood as something new, latent, providential or contingent is a question perennially at the heart of historical studies of change, but especially
pressing when newness and incessant variation are fundamental to the musical
aesthetic. Schoenberg chose to articulate his creative phases at moments of great
activity that coincide with his most rapid changes of style. These time frames point
up two transfonnative events: the emergence of free atonality amidst a prevailing
style of tonal chromaticism in 1908, and the emergence of twelve-tone serialism
amidst a prevailing style of contextual atonality culminating in a shift by 1923.
They also suggest the experience of time as transition not just to the future, but to

2SSee Niles Eldredge, Time Frames: The Rethinkin~ of Darwinian

Evolution and the Theory of Punctuated EQuilibria (New York: Simon and
Schuster, 1985). The idea of time frames is preferable to periods in this context.
Historical periods suggest stability and unity. Times frames draw our attention to
the pace of change.
26Schoenberg to Dr. Aram, 15 November 1947, Arnold Schoenberg
Archive, Library of Congress. See Stuckenschmidt, p. 486.

163
the new. They tend not to suggest unified stylistic periods in the organicist sense
which fonn a higher-level unity of completed works.
With the exception of drafting the theme for the Karnmersymphonie, Op. 9,
and the composition of Die Jakobsleiter, Schoenberg keeps the dynamics of his
workshop -- the fragments, the interruptions in composition, the disorderly
chronology -- out of the essays. Schoenberg for mostly practical reasons, such as
availability of scores and recordings, deals exclusively with completed works.27
But this restriction also raises questions. What status does completion confer? Do
the same qualities that make completion an attribute of a work (qualities covered by
the concept "inner necessity") also make completion the attribute of a period? Is
Schoenberg's historiography a scheme imposed on the works, or does the
historiography arise from the works?
In correspondence in which Bruno Walter asks for permission to make a cut
in Verkllirte Nacht, permission which Schoenberg denies, Schoenberg's ideas
concerning the completeness of the finished work, the post-compositional insight
and necessity are concretized:
Sehr verehrter, Heber Herr Schoenberg:
Bitte verzeihen Sie mir die Frage, mit der ich heute zu Ihnen
komme. Gerade weil ich die "VerkUirte Nacht" so liebe - sie hat
den Platz in meinem Herzen bei der ersten Auffuerung in Wien
gewonnen und behalten -, fuehle ich mich ennutigt, zu dieser
Frage. Ich habe das Werk ziemlich oft aufgefuehrt und babe es, wie
ich Ihnen, glaube ich, bei meinem Besucbe sagte, auch bier in eines
meiner Philharmonischen Konzerte aufgenommen. Es mag wohl
mit der kuenstlerischen Periode des altemden Musikers

27Th.is matter of practicality was stressed to me by Richard Hoffmann who

helped Schoenberg prepare the later lectures.

164

zusammenhaengen. in der das Vertrauteste ibm neu wird und in

diesem Prozess der Verjuengung einer langjaebrigen Beziehung
fuehle ich staerker als jemals einen Schmerz ueber den Gleichlaut
zwischen Talct 338 und 391. Dass die seelenvolle Entwicldung. die
diesen Takten des Definitiven folgt, in die gleichen Takte muendet,
wird mir. von a1Iem anderen abgesehen. auch zum
Auffuehrungsproblem. Sie werden meiner Versicherung glauben.
dass ich niemals Striche mache und am wenigsten wuerde ich es
wagen einem Meister wie Thoen gegenueber. Wenn Sie selbst aber
einen Strich von 338 auf 391 mit entsprechendem Austausch der
Mittelstimmen und VerJegung der Sordinierung von Takt 40 1 an
fuer wuenschenswert halten soUten. so muss ich sagen. dass mir
diese Operation bei allem, was sie mich schmerzlich vermissen
machen wuerde. wiIlkommen waere. Bitte sehen Sie sich aber auf
aile Faelle. bevor Sie mir ihre Entscheidung bekanntgeben. die Takte
zwischen 378 und 389 an. Finden Sie nicht, dass alles
Konflikthafte bereits mit der Periode urn 338 geloest ist. so dass wir
hier bereits die seelische Bereitschaft fuer die Coda erreicht haben?28
[Very honored. dear Herr Schoenberg:
Please forgive me the question with which I come to you today.
Precisely because I so love the "Verldarte Nacht" - it has won and
held a place in my heart since the fIrst performance in Vienna - I
feel encouraged to ask this question. I have performed the work
rather often and have, as I believe I said during my visit, also taken
it up here in one of my Philharmonic Concerts. It may well have to
do with the artistic era of an aging musician whereby that which he
knows best becomes new to him, and in this process of rejuvenating
my longstanding relationship with this work, I am more anguished
than ever over the similarity between bars 338 and 391. That the
spiritual development that follows these bars containing the
defInitive version of the same, flows into the same bars also
becomes a performance problem for me apart from anything else.
Be assured. that I never make cuts and least of all would I
venture it against a master like you. If you yourself should hold a
cut from 338 to 391 with corresponding exchange of middle voices
and removal of mutes at 40 1 desirable, so I have to say, that what
by me would be sorely missed in this operation would be welcome
by all.
Please by all means before you give me your decision, examine
the measure between 378 and 389. Do you not find that the conflict

28Bruno Walter to Schoenberg, 18 December 1943, Library of Congress.

165
is not already resolved with the period by 338, such that we are
already emotionally prepared for the Coda?]
To put it more plainly, Walter asks permission to make a cut directly from m. 338
to m. 391 (actually m. 392 assuming no rest on the downbeat of m. 391), because
the development circles around to the same tritone em. 338 [B-E#]; m. 389 [B-F])
(Ex. 3.1). Walter's sense is that resolution in D major is accomplished at the
initiation of the coda. Repetition seems only to lengthen the work unnecessarily.
Walter points to the kind of drawn out sequence that occurs between m. 378 and m.
389 to bolster his argument.

Example 3.1

Verkliir1e Nacht Op. 4

l

m.338
II Ai

....

.,..

1'-"
.(L

,...

JII.

391

.(L

.,..

,.

tJ
4

..

1 ' - ~"

,_/

-.

Schoenberg responded promptly and emphatically to Walter that a cut in

VerkUirte Nacht is out of the question. References to musical examples are supplied
in the English translation of Schoenberg's reply to Walter for clarity.
Lieber Herr Walter.
Ich danke Thoen sehr fUr die freundliche Form, in der Sie mir den
leider unannehmbaren Vorscblag eines Striches in "VerkHirte Nacht"
machen.
Ich bin nicht nur aus prinzipiellen Grunden gegen Striche in
einem sonst akzeptablen Werk - sie haben niemals geholfen,
sondem hOchstens auf eine vorhandene Schwache auf
unangenehmere Weise aufmerksam gemacht.

166

Ich bin gewiss in unserer Zeit der erste gewesen, der sich von
dem "langen Stil" abgewendet hat. Aber die neue Ktirze war dann
eben so organisch, wie jene frUhere Lange.
Ein Strich verschiebt alIe Gleicbgewichtsverhaltnisse. Das babe ich
immer wieder gefunden.
1m Fall "Veddarte Nacht" is dei (sic?) Lange durchaus das
Resultat der Art wie das thematiscbe Material im ganzen StUck
behandelt ist Undie (sic?) ihrerseits entspringt aus der strukturellen
Natur dieses Materials.
Das babe ich in Uberzeugender Weise selbst erfahren, als ich vor
mehreren Jahren versuchte dieses StUck umzuarbeiten, das heisst
soIche Aenderungen vorzunehmen, die vieles konziser machen,
ohne Grundlegendes zu tangieren. Ich bin ziemlich weitgegangen
darin. Aber plotzlich habe ich das Gefiihl bekommen, dass ich das
ganze StUck einfach umbringe.
Ich glaube, wenn die Langen nicht unertdiglich sind, dann gibt es
nur zwei Auswege: 1) es auffiihren wie es ist. Man muss sich dann
eben an das Gute halten. Oder 2) wie ich einmal geschrieben habe,
ordas Ganze unverandert weglassen.
Der Strich aber den Sie vorschlagen, ware auch noch aus anderen
Grunden unannehmbar. Takt 338 bis 344 ist das Ende des dritten
Teils und ein Teil wie dieser muss ein auskomponiertes Ende haben,
bevor die Coda beginnt, das heisst, die Tonika muss (muss)
ausdriicklich vorhanden seine Ich gebe ZU, dass die Coda lang ist,
aber ich glaube, das, und das ausdriickliche Ende in D-Dur ist hier
besonders notwendig, weil ja so grosse Partien diese Teils in Des
waren.
Vielleicht wird Sie in diesem Zusammenhang folgendes interessieren.
In einer schlaflosen Nacht, in Barcelona, 1932, entdeckte ich
plotzlich, dass, was mir vorher unbekannt war, wahrscheinlich eine
der Ursachen, warum der dritte Teil so viel in Des ist, dise (sic)
Eigentiimlichkeit des Hauptthemas ist :

, Ii.,. r 'r.-.rr II

Drei Noten sind ein D-moll-dreildang, die anderen drei sind

(Des-) Cis moll, alIerdings Moll, was aber bei der
Grundtonverwandtscbaft von Our und Moll Iceinen wesentlichen
Unterschied ausmacht Ich bin mir immer wabrend des
Komponierens bewusst gewesen, dass das Des-Our ein
"Gegengewicht" gegen das Es-Moll ist, aber ich habe nicht gewusst,
dass die Begrundung dafiir anscheinend im Hauptmotive liegt. Die
Art, wie dieses Des-Dur zweimal durch einen Akkord eingefiihrt ist,

167
der auf D-Dur hinweist (der venninderte in Talct 276, der
iibermassige terz-quart-Akkord in 319) und das Wiederauftreten des
letzteren in den Talcten 322 (2. Viertel) und 324, und seine
Ausniitzung zur RiickmoduIation nach D-Dur in Talct 336/337
freuen mich sehr. Sie zeigen dass logisches Denken auch
unbewusst Dinge hervorbringt, die manche fUr "blosse"
Konstruction halten. Ich bin sehr froh, dass ich mit 2S Jahren
bereits so gefestigt in meinem Formgefiihl war, dass ich derlei
unbewusst tun konnte.
Nun zum Schluss: ich muss Sie also bitten, den Strich zu
unterlassen. Auch ich fmde das StUck in vilen (sic) Partien zu lang.
Aber ich glaube: wenn seine sonstigen Qualitaten nicht imstande
sind dafiir zu entschadigen, dann ist es ebenso schlecht wie das
meiste von Schubert - der ja immer viel zu lang ist - ohne mich
weiter mit ihm vergleichen zu wollen. oder schlimmstens in dieser
Hinsicht.
Wann ist The Konzert: ich mOchte den Broadcast nicht
versaumen, insbesondere, da ich in der letzten Zeit soviele schlechte
Auffiihrungen gehort habe und von Ihnen eine schone erwarte. 29
{Dear Herr Walter:

I thank you greatly for the friendly manner in which you made
the unfortunately unacceptable suggestion to me of a cut in
"Verklarte Nacht."
I am not only opposed to cuts in an otherwise acceptable work as
a matter of principle -- they have never helped, but at best draw
attention to a weakness present or a disagreeable manner.
I was certain of being the flrst in our time who had turned away
from the "lengthy style." But the new brevity was then just as
organic, as the previous "lengthy style."
A cut shifts the balance of all the proportions. I have always
found this.
In the case of "VerkIarte Nacht," the length is throughout the
result of the Art of how the thematic material is treated in the whole
piece. And which originates from the structural nature of these
materials.
That I have myself learned in convincing ways, as I for many
years sought to remodel this piece, namely, to undertake changes, to
make it more concise without touching the basics. I am rather

29Schoenberg to Bruno Walter, 23 December 1943, Arnold Schoenberg

Archive, Library of Congress. Reprinted here with the kind permission of Mr.
Lawrence Schoenberg.

168
continuing on this. But suddenly I have gotten the feeling, that I am
simply murdering the whole piece.
I believe, if the length is not intolerable, then there are only two
ways out: 1) to perform it as it is. One must hold to the truth. 2) as
I once wrote, "to omit the entirety unchanged."
The cut you suggest is unacceptable for still other reasons. Bar
338 through 344 is the end of the third part and a part as this must
have a composed out end, before the Coda begins, namely, the tonic
must (must) be explicitly present. I grant you, that the Coda is long,
but I believe that, and that here it is especially necessary the end is
explicitly in D Major because such a great part was in Db.
Perhaps the following would interest you in this connection.
In a sleepless night, in Barcelona, 1932, I discovered suddenly
what was previously unknown to me, that one of the probable
causes, why the third section is in Db so much, this peculiarity of
the principal theme is:

~i r , [ fII
. .-.

Three notes are a D-minor-triad, the other three are (Db-) C#

minor, minor indeed, except for the "grundton" relationship of
major and minor makes no essential difference. I was always
deliberate during the composing that the Db-D Major counterbalance
against the Eb minor, but I had not known that the basis lies
therefore apparently in the principal motive. The art, as this Ob-O
arrives twice through a chord, which draws attention to 0 (the
diminished chord in m. 276 [Ex. 3.2a], the extended seventh chord
in 319 [Ex. 3.2b]) and the recurrence of the last in m. 322 (2
quarters) and 324 [Ex. 3.2b], and its utility for the return
modulation back to D major in Takt 336/337 gives me much
pleasure [Ex. 3.2c]. I am very happy that at the age of 25, I was
already so confident in my feeling for form that I could do such as
this undeliberately.
Now to close: I must beg you to omit the cut. I also fmd the
piece in many parts too long. But I believe: if its other qualities are
no excuse, then it is even as bad as the longest of Schubert - which
is always much too long - without wanting to compare myself with
him further or worst of all in this respect.
When is your concert: I would not want to miss the broadcast,
especially, since I have heard so many bad performances and expect
of you a beautiful one.]

169
Example 3.2

Verkliir!! Necht, Op. 4

del\D1I!s bamlonies that imply D major.
a 276
II . I
~
~~

'"

q ...

, la.319
II

.. I

la 322

II

~-

..

.(L'

-..
I

L~.

Itt.

la.325

DL 336
L

II

'"

.(L

--

"-II

'-- ~

it:'

.. ...

.. ...

.. .

1fL

II

ft

it:'

IL

...

""-

./

...... _ /

----.

170
Inspiration. both before and after writing the piece. leads Schoenberg to
understand the harmonic ramifications of the motivic composition of the theme. D
major is expected on the downbeat ofm. 277. not the dominant of Db (Ex. 3.2a).
Likewise. D major is implied in mm. 276. 319. 322 and 324 (Ex. 3.2b). Contrary
to Walter's view, Schoenberg understands the requirements for resolution to exceed
what the coda supplies. A double resolution to D major is required. once through
the subdominant (mm. 342-343) - which also permits a reprise of the chorale (m.
219) -- and once through the dominant (mrn. 400-401). This means that D major is
fully established before the coda begins. Thematically, the repetition of mm. 338
and 391 which both lead to resolutions in D major through the subdominant and
dominant respectively, balance out the previous repetitions of this thematic gesture
which were unable to escape the pull of Db major (Ex. 3.2b). Bruno Walter
accepted Schoenberg's explanation and agreed to abide by Schoenberg's refusal to
permit any cuts. Perhaps, he was also convinced by Schoenberg's view:
Lieber Herr Schoenberg,
Selbst verstaendlich akzeptiere ich Ihre Ablehnung undo wie ich
Sie mir zu glauben bine, mit vollstem Verstaendnis. Ich werde also
das Stueck auffuehren, wie est ist .. )0
[Dear Herr Schoenberg,
I myself understandably accept your refusal and, as I ask you to
believe me, with fullest understanding. I shall perform the piece as

it is ... ]
Schoenberg ascribes a certain and definite status to a composition upon its
completion that it does not possess until it is thought out fully and achieves

30Bruno Walter to Schoenberg, 2 January 1944, Library of Congress.

171
autonomy in the composer's mind. To paraphrase a passage from an essay of
Schoenberg's quoted previously, we recall that it is a mistake to presume that
everything that will eventually constitute the composition is already contained
within the "motive." In this, Schoenberg rejects the lawful kind of foreseeability or
"logic of time" Spengler calls "destiny." Having made this point, Schoenberg
shifts perspectives in the same essay and turns to the question of the finished
composition:
... there seems to me no doubt, that a work of a composer having
been carefully, thoroughly and intensely elaborated in the
imagination of a master and in his mind possesses a perfect.
(independent) and real existence (AT THE LATEST), when it has
been written on paper. Everything of importance has been settled. is
fixed in an unmistakable manner and nothing suggests the
possibility of any change. Who would undertake to change a hen's
egg, a bee's hexagon (or the shape of) an ice-flower? Whether one
likes it or not: the most discreet attempt of a rearrangement means
destruction. Everything is expressed distinctly for a correctly
functioning intellect. Such one can therefore clearly decide whether
he likes it or not. because his own destiny might direct him to the
same or to a different goal. Such an intellect would not reject nor
accept anything without recognizing what it is.
When a piece of music by a master is written on paper it is
finished and is a perfect message to everyone who belongs to a
circle (like this), which Schopenhauer calls: "Ein Capua der
Geister" - a Capua, where only people of the highest intellectual
order (and only these) can live.31
On this understanding, the completed work as fixed on paper becomes an entity
inhabiting what Karl Popper calIs "World 3." According to Popper's
categorization. physical objects comprise World 1 and mental states comprise

31 Arnold Schoenberg, "It can be said... " unpublished. n.d., original

English, Archives of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute, 3pp. Additions have been
included in parentheses. and typing errors have been corrected.

172
World 2. Products of the human mind - scientific theories and artworks -populate World 3. Popper's example par excellence of a World 3 object is Mozart's
Jupiter Symphony:
Clearly, Mozart's Jupiter Symphony is neither the score he
wrote, which is only a kind of conventional and arbitrarily coded
statement of the symphony; nor is it the sum total of the imagined
acoustic experiences Mozart had while writing the symphony. Nor
is it any of the performances. Nor is it all performances together,
nor the class of all possible performances. This is seen from the fact
that performances may be good or less good, but that no
performance can really be described as ideal. In a way, the
symphony is the thing which can be interpreted in perfonnances - it
is something which has the possibility of being interpreted in a
performance. One may even say that the whole depth of this World
3 object cannot be captured by any single performance, but only by
hearing it again and again, in different interpretations. In that sense
the World 3 object is a real ideal object which exists, but exists
nowhere, and whose existence is somehow the potentiality of its
being reinterpreted by human minds. So it is fIrst the work of a
human mind or of human minds, the product of human minds; and
secondly it is endowed with the potentiality of being recaptured,
perhaps only partly, by human minds again. In a sense World 3 is a
kind of Platonic world of ideas, a world which exists nowhere but
which does have an existence and which does interact especially,
with human minds -- on the basis, of course, of human
activity ...However, while World 3 is best conceived along Platonic
lines, there are, of course, very considerable differences between the
Platonic world of ideas and World 3 as I conceive it. First of all,
my World 3 has a history; this is not the case for the Platonic world.
Second, it does not consist, as would the Platonic ideal world, of
concepts, but mainly of theories and problems, and not only of true
theories but also of tentative theories and indeed false theories.32
As a World 3 object, the musical work has a "real ideal" existence in terms of its
engagement with the mind. Both the real and ideal are invariably themes in
Schoenberg's writings, but there are nuances in how Schoenberg relates them.

32Karl Popper and John Eccles, The Self And Its Brain: An Argument for
Interactionism (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1977), pp. 449-50.

173
When Schoenberg writes about the process of composition, the detailed working
out of musical continuity on paper is real but subordinated to an a priori idea of the
work. This is best expressed in the essay "Constructed Music" (ca.1931):
... what I sense is not a melody, a motive a bar, but merely a whole
work. Its sections: the movements; their sections: the themes; their
sections: the motives and bars - all that is detail, arrived at as the
work is progressively realized. The fact that the details are realized
with the strictest, most conscientious care, that everything is logical,
purposeful and organically deft, without the visionary images,
thereby losing fullness, number, clarity, beauty, originality or
pregnancy ...
Briefly recapitulating:
The inspiration, the vision, the whole breaks down during its
representation into details whose constructed realization reunites
them into the whole)3
Conversely, when Schoenberg writes about the work, the work is real, a building
block of music history as Dahlhaus would say, but Schoenberg reifies the work
only to subsume it into a more sweeping idealization of a larger historical process.
That is not to say that the chronology that arises from his sense of the logic of
history is lax and ignores basic questions of priority, but Schoenberg does forgo
fine points of chronological minutia in the essays proper. It is the operation of
rationality in the creative enterprise that Schoenberg attempts to make manifest
through essays which reflect on and assign historical roles to finished works.
When Schoenberg writes about insights he has gained from the study of his
own works, he realizes content in the works beyond what he had either envisioned
or composed. These post-compositional insights are real (in the score), but also,
for Schoenberg they are more than just empirical observations. Musical insights,

33Schoenberg, "Constructed Music" (ca.1931), Style and Idea, p. 107.

174
such as the relationship of themes Schoenberg likes to point out in the Fourth
Symphony of Brahms are glimpses of "heavenly gifts" or "luck" as Schoenberg
calls these in "Brahms the Progressive." Though many of Schoenberg's essays
were prompted by invitations to lecture and constrained by the poor availability of
scores and recordings to illustrate the lectures, Schoenberg's writings were no less
prompted by an inner necessity to articulate epiphanic encounters with his own
works as well as those of his predecessors. One motivation for the prose essays
then was to establish not just contexts for particular works, but to evince a process
for a creative enterprise. Anyone can theorize new (untraditional) methods of
composition and realize works according to some "mannerism." By connecting
new works and new means to a tradition, and by asserting that musical logic lies at
the heart of that tradition's growth and vitality, Schoenberg can indicate a process at
work, one governed by necessity.
Another related motivation to write involves giving voice to questions that
were deferred during the 1908-1923 time frame. A passage from the unpublished
"A Question of Priority" speaks to Schoenberg's motivations:
Now there is one important difference between me, Klein34 and
Hauer: I came to my method for compositional and structural
reasons. I was not looking out (sic) for a new mannerism, but for a
better structural foundation, replacing the structural effects of
harmony:

34Stuckenschmidt, p. 443. See also Arved Ashby, "Of Modell-Iypen and

Reihenfonnen: Berg, Schoenberg, F. H. Klein, and the Concept of Row
Derivation," Journal of the American Musicolo&ical Society 48 (Spring 1995): 67lOS. Stuckenschmidt notes that F.H. Klein (b. 1892) was a student of Alban
Berg's, and credits him with constructing the "mother chord" of twelve tones with
eleven intervals, and also the rhythmic series.

17S
,.Die Hannonie steht nicN fUr Dislrussion" I had said between
1908 and 1918.
But I was conscious that the harmonies I wrote at this time were
not used haphazardly but were of necessity.3s
From the retrospective point of view, Schoenberg emphasizes the Hegelian position
of the rationality of the real. This point of view does not however eclipse the ideal
(objective reason) which as Steven Schwarzschild argues preserved a sense of
optimism and possibility for Schoenberg. Popper's position harmonizes the
elements of this seeming oxymoron - real-ideal existence.
Returning to the question of periodization, if the completed works
individually exist as real ideal objects, then what of Schoenberg's time frames? The
time frames also have a dual nature. In one context emphasizing discontinuity, the
Kammersymphonie, Op. 9 (1906) epitomizes the stylistic stability of Schoenberg's
practice, a stability that is abruptly disrupted by the composition of the Georie1ieder
(1908-09). Yet in another more deterministic context, the Kammersymphonie is a
linchpin in the tradition of the musical relationships - the use of inversion in
particular -- at the heart of twelve-tone composition. A branching model which
could illustrate near-term divergence with the Georgelieder and long-term
convergence with the twelve-tone works would mitigate the apparent

3S"A Question of Priority," (1940) eight page handwritten MS., original in

English, Archives of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute. Cf. Stuckenschmidt, p.
443. Stuckenschmidt quotes this passage too but errs in the transcription: "But I
was unconscious (sic) that the harmonies I wrote at this time were not used
haphazardly but were of necessity." The sense of the passage is lost with this
reading. Besides, it is impossible to imagine that the composer of Das Buch der
haneenden Garten thought the harmonies he wrote at that time were written
haphazardly.

176
incomrnensurabilities of the continuity-discontinuity dichotomy. It should also be
noted that the case for continuity is predicated on an abstraction, the isolation of the
inversional relationship of two themes through which Schoenberg: 1) exemplifies
the idea "all is theme," (synechdoche), and 2) generalizes the cogency of
inversional relationships in his analysis (metonymy).
Just before Schoenberg begins the narration of how twelve-tone
composition came to be, he sums up the accomplishments of the work of the
preceding period:
True, new ways of building phrases and other structural elements
had been discovered, and their mutual relationship, connection, and
combination could be balanced by hitherto unknown means. New
characters had emerged, new moods and more rapid changes of
expression had been created, and new types of beginning,
continuing, contrasting, repeating, and ending had come into use.
Forty years have since proved that the psychological basis of all
these changes was correct. Music without a constant reference to a
tonic was comprehensible, could produce characters and moods,
could provoke emotions, and was not devoid of gaiety or humor.36
On this view, the pre-serial works stand on their own. There is no intrinsic
deficiency that necessitates new means and methods. Consequently, the next phase
of evolution begins with the accidental discovery of the twelve-tone theme from the
Scherzo of the fragmentary "Symphony 1914-15." One problem with this view is
that it overlooks the overlap: the third time frame does not begin until 1923, even if
its pre-beginning occurs in 1915; likewise, the second period does not end until
1923 even if the reader might infer its completion in 1915, before the accidental

36Schoenberg, "My Evolution" (1949), Style and Idea. p. 88. The title of
this essay is suggestive of the non-deterministic view.

177

discovery occuned. Schoenberg, though willing enough to admit a fortuity in his

scheme, is unwilling to deny his readers the narrative comfort which comes in
knowing that this happened and then that happened. Another problem is that he
seems to deny the great thesis of "Composition with Twelve Tones" (1941): "The
method of composing with twelve tones grew out of a necessity. "37 In the 1941
essay the works of 1908-23 are described as "in statu nascendi." According to this
developmental view, the pre-serial works have not yet found their legs, i.e. their
basic compositional principles cannot yet be fully articulated. Suffice it to say that
at different times Schoenberg's historical consciousness has leaned toward accident
or necessity as a way of describing the succession of creative periods.
Periodization is still an unsettled matter in areas of historiography)8
Schoenberg's time frames certainly indicate moments when significant and farreaching changes occurred. but they hardly do justice to the welter of historical
issues which seem to arise from an essayist's attempting to satisfy the composer
and the theorist. while educating a public predisposed to the world view of
developmental historiography. By bringing the essays into greater dialogue with
one another. we hope to see more clearly the impact of the works through multiple
historical contexts. Through such an approach we hope to broaden the range of
historical concerns Schoenberg covers. We see first of all the social aspect of the

37Schoenberg. "Composition with Twelve Tones" (1941). Style and Idea.

p.216.

38See William A. Green, "Periodizing World History," History and Theory:

Theme Issue 34 (1995): 99-111.

178
frequently unreceptive reception of Schoenberg's works and the matter of
Schoenberg's loneliness. Then there are the musical problems and crises
historicized by Schoenberg: achieving variety of expression and connotation within
a dissonant musical language, achieving greater concision in music which relates to
his thought on time, achieving primacy of the vocal line and not allowing a text to
dictate musical form and content, describing his facility as a composer, achieving a
high degree of variation despite compositional constraints, achieving compositional
unity despite a high degree of variation, explaining both the surprise of discovery
and the logic of necessity, explaining stylistic transitions, explaining aesthetic
transitions, achieving an increasingly comprehensive (i.e. hannonic) understanding
of his own music, placing his works in some historical relationship with one
another and most of all representing the constancy, coherence and authenticity of
his own personality and sense of self.

VerkHirte Nacht, Opus 4 (1899)

"Circular to My Friends on My Sixtieth Birthday: September 13, 1934"
"How One Becomes Lonely" (1937)
"Heart and Brain in Music" (1946)
"Criteria for the Evaluation of Music" (1946)
"New Music, Outmoded Music, Style and Idea" (1946)
"On Revient Toujours" (1948)
Schoenberg's history as presented through the completed works begins
with his string sextet VerkHirte Nacht He consistently places VerkHirte Nacht
exactly where the concerns of social and intellectual history intersect - or as they do
in this case, clash -- in order to amplify grievances against the public's early

179

reception of the work. as well as against historical evaluation based on the work's
fonn and content. From the perspective of social history, Schoenberg brings out
the great shift in the work's reception and its meaning for his understanding of
music history. Through the essays one can piece together a story which begins
with the work at first being denied performance by the Tonkiinstlerverein (Vienna)despite the persuasive efforts of Zemlinsky - on account of an uncatalogued
dissonance.39 At its 1903 premiere the same work then provoked fist fights. After
thirty years, VerkHirte Nacht became a conservative work. the only composition of

Schoenberg's conductors would regularly program. Early antipathy toward the

work from critics who overlooked any of the work's qualities made Schoenberg
"not only suspicious, but even rebellious."40 All this isolated VerkHirte Nacht
because critics ignored the connections with earlier works whose aesthetics
VerkHirte Nacht upheld. By 1924 the public was unable to understand the
coherence of personality between the author of VerkUirte Nacht and the author of
the new twelve-tone compositions. Unlike the long-delayed 1865 premiere of
Schubert'S "Unfinished" Symphony at which Hanslick recalled how the public

39See Reich, Schoenbe[~, p. 7 and Schoenberg, Theory of Harmony, p.

346. See also "Criteria for the Evaluation of Music" (1946), StYle and Idea, pp.
131-2; David Lewin, "On the 'Ninth Chord in Fourth Inversion' from VerkUirte
~"Journal of the Arnold Schoenbe[~ Institute 10 (1987): 45-64. Zemlinsky.
in his Reminiscences of My youth, cited by Reich, recalls an examiner saying: "It
sounds as if someone had smeared the score of Tristan while it was still wet!"
Schoenberg recalls a more technical reason. A chord with the ninth in the bass (m.
42) is forbidden because its simplest resolution entails a seventh [Bb - Ab]
resolving to an octave with a common tone [Ab - Ab].
4O"How One Becomes Lonely" (1937), Style and Idea, p. 38.

180
recognized the composer by sending "a half-suppressed outcry 'Schubert' buzzing
through the hall," the premieres of Schoenberg's advanced works seemed to have
little in common with a sextet written in 1899.4 1 The sense of resurrection
Hanslick evokes hinges on the public's shared feeling for Schubert'S musical
persona. Representing this persona through perfonnance betokens a romanticist's
view of history as the past makes a great gift to the future. Schoenberg's view of
the public's predicament was that the past was unable to illuminate the present, a
situation consistent with a tragic view of history. Yet it seems to be not only the
public's problem, but a problem in which there is some ambivalence on
Schoenberg's part.
Does an understanding of VerkUirte N acht illuminate an understanding of
the later works? Does it represent a step along the path toward composition with
twelve-tones? Or is there a real discontinuity between this early work and the later
works, especially the twelve-tone compositions?
On the one hand Schoenberg argues for VerkUirte Nacht as a part of a
continuity as in the passage below:
This work rverkHirte Nachtl has been heard, especially in its version
for orchestra. a great many times. But certainly nobody has heard it
as often as I have heard this complaint: "If only he had continued to
compose in this style!"
The answer I gave is perhaps surprising. I said: "I have not
discontinued composing in the same style and in the same way as at
the very beginning. The difference is only that I do it better now

41From Eduard Hanslick, Geschichte des Concertwesens in Wien. Aus dem

Concertsaal, Vienna, 1870, II, pp. 350-1, quoted in Franz Schubert, Symphony in
B Minor ("Unfinished"), ed. and trans. Martin Chusid (New York: W.W. Norton
& Company, 1971), p. 114.

181
than before; it is more concentra~ more mature."42 (Empbasis
added.)
On the other hand VerkUirte Nacht, as Schoenberg writes a decade later, is not part

of a continuity:
When I had finished my first Kammersymphonie, Op. 9, I told
my friends: "Now I have established my style. I know now how I
have to compose."
But my next work showed a great deviation from this style; it
was a first step toward my present style. My destiny had forced me
in this direction - I was not destined to continue in the manner of
Transfi~d Niiht or Gurrelieder or even Pelleas and Melisande.
The Supreme Commander had ordered me on a harder road. 43
(Emphasis added.)
Both of these versions represent a distinct kind of mode of emplotment. Continuity
is the question upon which mode of emplotment turns. Of the four modes -romantic, cornic, tragic, satirical - the tragic and satirical are played out in
situations that present stasis, continuity and inexorability whereas the romantic and
comic entail the emergence of unforeseeable agents and circumstances.
The first passage is rhetorically very clever in the way it asserts continuity to
counter the persistence of the complaint: "If only he had continued to compose in
this style!" In this context, Schoenberg's emplotment is satirical. There is true
rhetorical virtuosity in turning a situation from the tragic mode to the satirical.

42Schoenberg, "How One Becomes Lonely" (1937), Style and Idea, p. 30.
43Schoenberg, "On Revient Toujours" (1948), Style and ldeil, p. 109. The
phrase. "But my next work... " probably refers to the "creative stretch" that
produced the Strin~ Ouartet No.2, Op. 10, the Three Piano Pieces, Op. 11 and OM
Buch der han~enden Garren, rather than referring to any particular work.

182
The second passage partakes of a comic view in which Opus 9 turns out to
be a momentary resolution before new complications arise. Yet despite the apparent
sense of discontinuity implied in this one passage, the philosophy of history "On
Revient Toujours" represents is cyclical, ala Vico, and suggests a change in
direction more than a discontinuity. The composition of this particular narrative
thread argues that VerkUirte Nacht achieves a synthesis of the techniques of model
and chromatic sequence "above a roving harmony" from Wagner, and the technique
of developing variation from Brahms.44
Schoenberg's discussion of VerkHirte Nacht sets the tone of historical
friction with public and critics symptomatic of the consciousness of the manifold
nature of new times during which simultaneity no longer entailed contemporaneity.
Events proceeded in asynchronous fashion. All modes of historical consciousness
Schoenberg expressed as a writer are characterized by this view, and are borne out
in Schoenberg's various discussions of Verklarte Nacht.

Pelleas und Melisande, Opus 5 (1903)

"A Legal Question" (1909)
"A Self Analysis" (1948)
"On Revient Toujours" (1948)
"My Evolution" (1949)

In "My Evolution" (1949), Schoenberg offers a half-dozen passages as

examples of "the rapid advance in the direction of extended tonality" which Pelleas
und Melisande represents. In this respect, the passages of "undetermined tonality"

44Schoenberg, "My Evolution" (1949), Style and Idea, p. 80.

183
are "most significant," i.e., progressive. One such passage Schoenberg quotes
occurs five measures after rehearsal number 30 (Ex. 3.3). This section depicts the
scene in which Golaud leads Pelleas through the catacombs. In the musical
example, Schoenberg reduces the orchestration to four voices: the "destiny"
leitmotif in the basses, Golaud's leitmotif in the clarinets, an ascending chromatic
figure reminiscent of Golaud's jealousy motif, and, in contrast, a descending
chromatic run in triplets. Perhaps, when he delivered this essay as a lecture,
Schoenberg also mentioned, as he did in his program notes also from 1949, his use
of trombone zlissandi as well as the other eerie effects indicated in the score: the
strings play muted at the bridge. the flutes use flutter tonguing, the bass drum,
playing against the prevailing meter in quarter note triplets, and tam-tam are marked
pianississimo, and except for the clarinets and basses, the remaining instruments
use mutes. 45 This one very slow, vague measure is then repeated; the two
measures which follow are nearly an exact repetition a half step lower. Though
Golaud's theme is associated with D minor, this music is insufficient to define the
passage tonally; Schoenberg's term. "undetermined tonality," is apt.

45See Nuria Schoenberg Nono. ed., Arnold Schoenber~ Self-Portrait

(Pacific Palisades, California: Belmont Music Publishers, 1988), p. 110.

184
!xample 3.3
Pelley up4 Melisande, Op. 5,
(Sehr _SIm, ,edeet), m. 6 af1er rebema! number I301
1.2.~.R. (flutter tongue)
4.Hr.(F) muted
1.2.Trp~F)muted

Veell. muted, di vided ( 4)

..

"

- .,-

=i

I .2.Clari nets{A

- "f

Contrabassoon
Bess

Trombone
\\lith mute

"1IT ~~11 ~~~

3
..

'0

-~'-

V
..

Connotations of deformity, disease and death cling to this tenebrous texture

in much the way extreme dissonance connotes Wagner's defonned characters,
Mime and Alberich. Pelleas und Melisande clearly panakes of both Wagnerian
compositional techniques (chromatic sequences and repetitions in a large-scale
form) and Wagnerian codes, e.g. assigning the heroic diatonic theme which
represents Pelleas to the trumpet in E, and abandoning tonality and normal
instrumental timbre to represent the catacombs.
The indebtedness of this work to Wagner carries with it historiographical
implications. Edward Said sees Wagner as the linchpin of German music's
continuity because Wagner both sustained the German choral tradition and

185

expanded the utility of advanced harmonies in dramatic contexts. Yet in Wagner's

hands, both of these practices were shaped by either of two malevolent aspects of
his music: one laden with antisemitic connotations, and the other, no less baleful,
exemplified by the traces of German xenophobia which Said fmds in the choral
music closing Die MeistersinKer. Given these two cases, Said makes a
generalization of uncertain extent about the degree to which music after Wagner is
infected by Wagnerism:
It does not lessen but actually compounds the problems that the
musical style of these two cases derive from and lead to music
whose aesthetic status is unimpeachable. Alberich delivers his
sinister lines in a harmonically advanced idiom whose subsequent
development will account for such towering figures as Richard
Strauss, Bruckner, Mahler, Debussy, and of course
Schoenberg ... 46
Music's post-Wagnerian return to a pristine aesthetic status is a process that for
Schoenberg begins by throwing the unmistakably Wagnerian Pelleas into question.

In Pelleas und Melisande, the case is still that the comprehensibility of extreme
dissonance depends on the depiction of a progranunatic event such as the catacomb
scene; this is no surprise given the saturation of Wagnerian codes in the musical
culture. But as far as Schoenberg is concerned, if a truly unrestricted musical
language is attainable, the emancipation of the dissonance must also entail
emancipation from archetypal connotations, not just from rule-dictated procedures

46Edward Said, Musical Elaborations (New York: Columbia University

Press, 1991), p. 42. Said points up the irony of Schoenberg, the composer
obsessed with the exigencies of Jewish surviVal, continuing the enterprise of
Wagner, the composer obsessed with extirpating Judaism in music. Said's
emphasis on continuity heightens the irony.

186
for resolution. As Schoenberg's music came to achieve rich contrasts within a
dissonant framework, death and deformity were no longer the alpha and omega of
dissonant music. Moreover, the view that Schoenberg's work represents the
"subsequent development" of Wagner's dissonant style, or that Wagner's Alberich
metamorphosed into Schoenberg's Moses suggests a notion of development which
Schoenberg rejects. As mentioned above, "even PeUeas and Melisande" was not a
work at the source of what Schoenberg saw as his destined path.
As Schoenberg recalls in "My Evolution," by 1903 he was done with
Wagnerism for its own sake, and had distilled or abstracted from his foray into
Wagnerism that which could be reassimilated into a revised sense of how
dissonance can contribute to more concentrated musical forms. What Schoenberg
rejects from Wagner is speUed out: the use of "numerous little-varied, or even
unvaried repetitions of short phrases," an aesthetic shortcoming Schoenberg finds
in the Pelleas finale, and the use of sequences, which according to Schoenberg
provided the "expanse of presentation" required to aid comprehensibility in Pelleas.
Archetypal uses of dissonance derived from Wagner are also set aside. Yet at the
same time, the stultifying music of the catacomb scene points to an escape from the
stultifying effects of technical and affective conventions. The means of escape were
technically possible: to restructure tonality one must restructure the tone.
Schoenberg recasts the tone by calling for extended instrumental techniques which

in tum contribute to the advance of "extended tonality." Not only does this passage
resist creating the expectation of a tonal goal in the horizontal dimension, or even

187

hint at one, but the inflection of timbres completely rejects any sense of rootedness
in the bass in the vertical dimension.

"My Evolution" (1949) stresses the theme of continuity by emphasizing

moments of "extended" and "undetennined" tonality that point to works to come.
Two essays from 1948, "A Self-Analysis" and "On Revients Toujours," stress
discontinuity and the need to reconceive musical form with respect to a revised
sense of tone, timbre, hannony and rhythm. On the basis of discontinuity,
Schoenberg dispels unwanted connections between himself and Wagner.
In "A Self-Analysis" (1948), Schoenberg demonstrates the inequity

between his situation and Wagner's. For Wagner, the appreciation of his earlier
works paved the way for the appreciation of later more advanced works, whereas
for Schoenberg, even the early works met resistance.47 He blames this resistance
on the "Wagnerian and post-Wagnerian" propensity for works of extraordinary
length and on his own tendencies, in keeping with Wagnerism, to be "extravagant"
in the sheer number of themes in the early works.
The problem situation posed by Pelleas is twofold: I) how can proportions
be reduced without sacrificing advanced chromatic harmony; 2) how can advanced
chromatic harmony be further advanced if its use was restricted by a limited number
of connotative meanings? Length had to be exchanged for concentration and

47See Arnold SchoenbeCl~ Self-Portrait, p. 112. "The first performance,

1905 in Vienna, under my own direction, provoked great riots among the audience
and even the critics ...Only six years later, under Oscar Fried's direction, it became
a great success, and since that time has not caused the anger of the audience.

188
concision. And dissonance could no longer be a musical quality of stereotypical
significance.

Strin~

Ouartet No.1, in 0 minor, Opus 7 (1904-5)

"Tonality and Form" (1925)

"How One Becomes Lonely" (1937)
"Heart and Brain in Music" (1946)
"A Self Analysis" (1948)
"My Evolution" (1949)
In "My Evolution" (1949), Schoenberg implies that of the two works,
Pelleas und Melisande and the String Quartet, Op. 7, the former is the more
progressive in "extending tonality." Like the Harmonielehre, the String Quartet,
Op. 7 is a foundational work; thus it is not surprising that Schoenberg so often
argues from its polyphonic high ground twenty, thirty and even forty years after its
composition. In "Tonality and Form," (1925) Schoenberg sends those who would
think of tonality as the sine qua non of musical form to both the Harmonielehre and
the Quartet, Op. 7 to learn from those works the relationship between tonality and
form in the sense of both the "oldest masters" and the modem demands that are
made on the "tonal development of a hannonic idea. "48 To carry on his side of the
dispute about the indispensability of tonality to achieve musical form, in 1925
Schoenberg could have pointed to his most recent works to falsify his opponent's
position. Instead, Schoenberg points to Opus 7 to undercut an opponent's very

48Schoenberg, "Tonality and Form" (1925), Style and Idea, p. 256.

189

claim to be knowledgeable about tonal harmony. More than with any other
composition, Schoenberg makes a monument of this work.
From the social historical perspective. Schoenberg comments in "How One
Becomes Lonely" (1937), that through this work he came to be regarded as the
"Satan of modernistic music," and as a Socrates, in the worst sense, for his
corrupting influence on the younger musicians.49 To make his sense of isolation
even more poignant, Schoenberg quotes Mahler's remark about being unable to
read this score of only four staves.50 Schoenberg's loneliness arose amidst what
Joseph Soloveitchik described as "the ever-changing human-historical situation
with all its whimsicality."SI This loneliness also betrays an element of what Sarue
called "nausea," resulting from a condition of flux which lacks a fIxed point of
reference. Schoenberg points to 1924 as the year which typifIed this condition.
Earlier works were forgotten. new works misconstrued. Just as Popper suggested
that Schoenberg's historicist inclinations had elements of both the pronaturalistic, in
the manner of physics, and anti-naturalistic, in the manner of expressivism.
Schoenberg echoes the contradictory nature of these appraisals. In response, the
49Schoenberg, "How One Becomes Lonely" (1937). Style and Idea, p. 42.
SOSee Stuckenschmidt, p. 90. Schoenberg fails to mention the letter Mahler
wrote to Strauss concerning the Quanet, Op. 7: "Dear Friend! Yesterday I heard
Schoenberg's new quartet, and I had such an important and enormous impression
from it that I cannot prevent myself from suggesting it to you urgently for the
Musicians' Meeting in Dresden... " The Dresden performance in June 1907 was a
great success for Schoenberg.
SIJosepb B. Soloveitchik, The Lonely Man of Faith (New York:
Doubleday, 1992), p. 5.

190

Quartet, Op. 7 asserts its point of reference in the developing variation technique of
Brahms.
References to Brahms and compositional process in the manner of Brahms
are rallied to argue against the injustice of Schoenberg's social isolation. In "Heart
and Brain in Music" (1946), Schoenberg adds to the Brahmsian mystique of the
quartet by relating that the work was composed during morning walks in forty to
eighty measure sections and that these were then copied down in two or three
hours. Schoenberg also quotes the adagio theme of the quartet as a sign of the kind
of inspiration at work that blends heart and intellect. As Alexander Ringer notes:
"creative artists of the ftrst rank generally are poorly served by conventional
distinctions between intuition and intellectual effon, between the subconscious and
the conscious ... "52 Trying to minimize the difftculties of composition, Schoenberg
neglects the faltering start of work on the quartet and the "program" he invented to
characterize the work's phases.
Though a foundational work, Schoenberg nevertheless subjects it to his
own criticism with respect to his thinking about time. Time becomes a factor that
occupies Schoenberg in a very modem way. In "New Music, Outmoded Music,
Style and Idea" (1946) Schoenberg writes:
In a manifold sense, music uses time. It uses my time, it uses your
time, it uses its own time. It would be most annoying if it did not
aim to say the most important things in the most concentrated
manner in every fraction of this time. This is why, when composers
have acquired the technique of filling one direction with content to
the utmost capacity, they must do the same in the next direction, and

52Alexander Ringer, Schoenberi: The Composer As Jew, p. 188.

191

fmally in all the directions in which music expands. Such progress

can occur only step-wise. The necessity of compromising with
comprehensibility forbids jumping into a style which is
overcrowded with content, a style in which facts are too often
juxtaposed without connectives, and which leaps to conclusions
before proper maturation.53
Schoenberg faults the quartet for its "unusual length" as "a great obstacle to beauty
found therein. "54 The adagio theme is beautiful, and it is a long while before we
reach it. If we notice some of the redundancies in the thematic writing, then we see
one way in which the quartet comes by its unusual length, but also a suggestion
about how greater concision will come about.
Brackets as they occur below (Ex. 3.4) denote pitch (but not rhythmic!)
redundancies in the theme. The fIrst six measures of the opening theme show the
pitches <O,F,E,Bb> in seemingly perpetual rotation. At the asterisk the F is
omitted, but returns emphatically in the next cycle. At the incomplete bracket, <A,
G#> substitute for <F, E> as a variation. Like the Fin m. 2, the A in m. 5 is also

supported by a low Bb in the 'cello adding to the sense of cyclical recurrence.

Upon returning to this point the Bb (,cello, m. 5) ascends to B~naturaI establishing
a crucial upper-neighbor, whereas before it descended to A-natural (m. 2). After
m. 6, related fIgurations assume the foreground. There is a Bb dominant-seventh
chord (m. 29) which prepares the second of six recurrences of the opening theme.
So much inner redundancy gives one the idea that Op.7 will be very large in its

53Schoenberg, "New Music, Outmoded Music, Style and Idea" (1946),

Style and Idea, p. 116.
54Schoenberg, "A Self-Analysis" (1948), Style and Idea, p. 78.

192
proportions. Repetition between phrases, as in parallel antecedent-consequent
constructions create the expectation of a very definite horizon and a more modest
proportion. The famous theme from Schubert's "Unfinished" Symphony heard
fust in G Major has (1) inner repetition in its second and third measures, (2) linking
repetition since the same descending fourth which ends the antecedent phrase also
begins the consequent, and (3) parallel construction between the antecedent and
consequent.55 Perhaps this is why Schoenberg seemed so sensitive about
Schubert's lengthy style in his letter to Bruno Walter.
Inner thematic redundancies occur frequently in Schoenberg's melodic
writing almost to the point of becoming a mannerism. At neither of the other two
examples of redundancy (m. B-14 nor m. K-52) is there a shift in the harmony that
re-inflects the repetition. However in works of greatly reduced proportions,
namely Opp. 9, 10, and IS, these small repetitions become instrumental as
connectives which promote continuity and obviate the need for repetitive parallel
phrase construction.

55The melody has a similar construction to the second theme of Beethoven's

Symphony No.5 which is also constructed along the lines of chiasmus: ABBA.

193

Karornersymphonie No. 1 in E major, Opus 9 (1906)

"Tonality and Form" (1925)
"My Public" (1930)
"How One Becomes Lonely" (1937)
"Composition With Twelve Tones (1)" (1941)
"Heart and Brain in Music" (1946)
"On Revient Toujours" (1948)
"My Evolution" (1949)
VerkJarre Nacht marks the beginning of Schoenberg's fIrst period, and the
Kammersymphonie, Op. 9 marks its end. As with Verklarte Nachb Schoenberg
relates an epiphanic experience in coming to see the relationship between the fIrst
and second theme. Like the Quartet, Schoenberg holds the Kamrnersymphonie up

194
as an example of a modem work with progressive implications, as in "Tonality and
Fonn" (1925):
Those who examine in my First String Quartet or in my
KammeI'ymphonie the relation of the keys to each other and to the
incident harmony, will get from them some conception of the
demands that are made, in the modem sense, on the tonal
development of a hannonic idea. Perhaps they would also
understand why a step must be taken from thence onwards, which
the critics in question would gladly reverse. 56 (Emphasis added)
With Op. 9, the work of concision has begun; the Kammersymphonie requires half
the perfomtance time of Op. 7. Understanding the next step entails understanding
the Kammersymphonie. 57 In two later essays, "How One Becomes Lonely"
(1937) and "On Revient Toujours" (1948), Schoenberg refers to this point, but in
different ways. The Kamroersymphonie appeared to be the solution to
Schoenberg's compositional problems in establishing a personal style and a
coherent musical personality. In the earlier essay, the Kammersymphonie is a
further leave-taking from Wagner, or at least from the problems of composing with
the "enriched harmony" "inherited from Wagner." Yet just as the enterprise
stemming from the first Kammersymphonie was coming to greater fruition amidst
the composition of a second Kammersymphonie, a rather different enterprise came
to the fore:

56Schoenberg, "Tonality and Form" (1925), Style and Idell, p. 256-7.

57Schoenberg, "My Public" (1930), Style and Idea. pp. 96-97. To
underline the point, Schoenberg remarks that a conductor "made it known that he
could not perform the Kammersymphooie because he did not understand it." The
tenor of this anecdote is entirely different from the Schoenberg's reverential remark
about Mahler's being unable to read the score of the Strin~ Quartet Op. 7.

195

...1 was inspired by poems of Stefan George, the German poet. to

compose music to some of his poems and, surprisingly, without any
expectation on my part, these songs showed a style quite different
from everything I bad written before.S8
In the later essay, this episode is expressed in a rather different tone:

When I finisbed my first Kammersymphonie, Op. 9, I told my

friends: "Now I have established my style. I know now how I
have to compose."
But my next work showed a great deviation from this style; it
was a first step toward my present style. My destiny had forced me
in this direction - I was not destined to continue in the manner of
Transfi~ Nil:ht or Guuelieder or even PeUeas and Melisande.
The Supreme Commander had ordered me on a harder road.s9
Exactly what the Kammersymphonie accomplished vis-A-vis the Wagnerian
inheritance is not mentioned. Abrupt discontinuity as a function of an overriding
logic - destiny - is emphasized. In the earlier passage, the surprise of
discontinuity is not couched in any such fatalistic notion.
Where "How One Becomes Lonely" (1937) and "On Revient Toujours"
(1948) propose discontinuity, "Composition With Twelve Tones" (1941), "Heart

and Brain in Music" (1946) and "My Evolution" (1949) advance an argument for
continuity based on the cogency of motivic forms related by inversion, retrograde
and retrograde inversion. Arguing this point. Schoenberg adduces two examples,
one from the introduction to the fourth movement of Beethoven's Quartet, Op. 135
and the other from the Kammersymphonie, Op. 9. Thus the very work after which

58Schoenberg, "How One Becomes Lonely" (1937), Style and Idea, p. 49.
59Schoenberg, "On Revient Toujours" (1948), Style and Idea, p. 109.

196
Schoenberg abruptly changed styles, provides the justification for a still later
development. the method of twelve-tone composition.60
EzampJe3.S
Ke.mrnePY.mP.bDllie No.1, Op. 9
JlMtt
~

,
e

,.
~I ,-'_____

_
,

...II

~------...I'

t"ij J.p I~r J.j J ~IPJhJIE1 r~Jjl

I

'~'rlrlf'r'rl SJHII
Of the three themes quoted above, none is repeated or sequenced in the fashion of
Pelleas und Melisande (Ex. 3.5). Theme A is not continued, but is recalled as part
of a (highly deceptive) cadential figure. Theme B is continued, but in a fragmentary
fashion. Theme C is followed by a consequent phrase but one of very different
contour. In the rapid flow of musical events, an inner redundancy is as good as a
full repetition in assisting definition and concision in the same stroke.

6O"My Evolution" (1949) essentially recalls the argument from

"Composition With Twelve Tones" (1941). "Heart and Brain in Music" (1946) is
surprising in that it makes no mention of the relationship among the themes. Rather
it offers a rare glimpse into Schoenberg's workshop by demonstrating the evolution
of the principal themes through their sketch versions to their fmal fonn.

197
Strin& Quartet No.2, in F sharp minor, Opus 10 (1907-08)
"A Legal Question" (1909)
"An Artistic Impression" (1909)
"Heart and Brain in Music" (1946)
"A Self Analysis" (1948)
"My Evolution" (1949)
Provoked as much by the critic, Hans LiebstOckl (1872-1934), as by the
critical reaction to the premiere of the Quartet Op. 10 on December 21, 1908,
Schoenberg took up the pen just weeks later. "A Legal Question" (1909), the
earliest of the essays coIIected in Style and Idea, is both an attack upon LiebstOckI's
integrity and an expose of his rancor. About LiebstOcld, Schoenberg remarks:
"The thing that does always go down weII and brings applause is his [LiebstOcId's]
ill will, which forgoes all human decency so long as he is sure of a laugh."61 This
impression of LiebstOcld is supported anecdotally by an antisemitic tract from the
early days of the Third Reich:
Julius Komgold, the father of the composer Erich Wolfgang
Komgold, once praised the Aryan journalist Hans LiebstOckI, who
could Jew [i.e. imitate the intonations and stereotypical speech
patterns of Jews] extraordinarily well, by saying that one could
hardly note any difference between him and a lew. There upon
Hans LiebstOcld, replied, using his lew accent: "There is a
difference: I can lew; you've got to. "62
The bearded, flat-headed visage with hypertrophied ears and murky gaze that
Schoenberg depicts in Critic I, painted around this time, might well be based on

6lSchoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 187.

62Quoted in Sander Gilman, The Jew's Body (New York: Routledge,
1991), p. 2.

198
LiebstOckl given the unmistakable beard.63 Other than mentioning the fact that
LiebstOckl gets the key of the piece wrong - E-flat minor instead of F-sharp minor there is little mention of the work itself. as if Schoenberg did not want his work
stained in this battle of ink. A letter to Berg from January 1912 indicates that
Schoenberg wanted to see everything the critics wrote. Listing each critic by name
including LiebstOckl. Schoenberg asks Berg to send all reviews to him. The
concern with critics and reception becomes integrated into the discussion of works
in the essay "How One Becomes Lonely" (1937). It is not until the essays of the
late 1940s that the works themselves are no longer the subjects of history. but
become the carriers of history.
As a record of public reaction. "How One Becomes Lonely" (1937) places
the response to the Ouartet. Op. 10. at the nadir. The scherzo which quotes Ach du
Iieber AUIDlstin received "an eruption of laughter. instead of an understanding
smile." Like the Ouartet. Qp. 7. the Quartet, Op. 10. was a work Schoenberg felt

63See Julie Brown, "Schoenberg's Early Wagnerisms: Atonality and the

Redemption of Ahasuerus," Cambrid~e Opera Journal 6 (1994): 62-4. About
Critic I, Julie Brown's interpretation notes the large ears which hear and blind gaze
which does not see (understand) according to the Christian notion that blindness is
the failing by which Jews do not accept Christianity (perhaps an appropriation of
the Jewish view that the Torah brings light to the eyes). She interprets the beard as
a sign of the critic's "Jewishness." But compared to antisemitic caricatures of the
time, this caricature hardly qualifies. And considering that LiebstOckl was not
Jewish, even if he pretended now and then, Brown's interpretation that Schoenberg
was trying to evince "Jewishness" makes no sense. One might say that Schoenberg
appropriated, mutatis mutandis, an iconography that makes the critic appear
ludicrous, given the exaggerated features. but not Jewish. To my eyes. Critic I
appears to be a caricature of G. B. Shaw.

199
was forgotten by a public unable collectively to learn the fabric of his personality in
order to understand the scope of his creative enterprise.
"Heart and Brain in Music" (l946) brings the work to the foreground by
evoking the experience of its creation. That the second and fourth movements of
Opus lO each took one and a half days to complete, and that the vocal melody of the
last movement (Ich lose mich in tonen ... ) could be composed "in one uninterrupted
draft and with a perfection that requires no change and offers no possibility of

improvement" were significant experiences for Schoenberg. His compositional

gifts flourished with musical materials adaptable to a new kind of organization.
As Schoenberg explains in "A Self Analysis" (948), the new kind of
organization of "condensation and juxtaposition" also entailed a return:
Before I could master technically the difficulties of condensation
and juxtaposition, I was forced by my destiny upon another road.
By abandoning the one-movement form and returning, in my
Second String Quartet, to the organization of four movements, I
became the first composer in this period to write shorter
compositions. Soon thereafter I wrote in extreme short forms.
Although I did not dwell very long in this style, it taught me two
things: first, to formulate ideas in an aphoristic manner, which did
not require continuations out of fonnal reasons; secondly, to link
ideas together without the use of formal connectives, merely by
juxtaposition.64
This return marked a rejection of short repetitions and sequence, Wagnerian
techniques, and a paring down of Brahmsian developing variation. Though there is
still a Wagnerian tenor to the Two Ballads, Gp. 12, and a Brahmsian kind of
construction to the first theme of the Quartet, Op.IO, which followed, the Quartet,

64Schoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 78.

200
Op. lO "marks the transition to" Schoenberg's second period. As Schoenberg
explains in "My Evolution" (1949), the problem to be worked out in the transition
phase was the presentation of the key at the end of each movement, but in a context
of such "overwhelming" dissonance that returns to the tonic could not in themselves
act as a "counterbalance" to the "multitude" of dissonance. Greater use of
progressions that would support the key would, conversely, be false to the
dissonance of the polyphony. That this piece embodies Schoenberg's dilemma.
gives it the historical character of a transitional phase. Indeed. Schoenberg finds
Opus 7 to be the more "mature" work of the first two quartets. 65 This too speaks to
the nature of transitional phases which are by defmition less mature than the phases
in which the potential for change is realized.
Redundancies in the first movement of Op. 10 resemble those in the String
Quartet, Op. 7 (Exx. 3.6a and 3.6b). In each there is substantial pitch repetition.
In the manner of Brahms, Schoenberg shifts the rhythmical stresses in his theme
first to accent the C# then the B (Ex. 3.6a). The sequencing of this phrase on A
minor is varied by the motion from E to D# which itself becomes an inner linking of
the melody. In the fourth movement's setting of Stefan George's "Entriickung."
there is a different kind of linking altogether, one not determined by literal pitch
repetition, but by the kinds of patterning that results in Schoenberg's wonderfully
imbricated melodies (Exx. 3.6c and 3.6a). The half rest in the vocal line follows
the phrasing of the text. but there is continuity across the articulation as Schoenberg

65Schoenberg to Eugen Lehner, 10 February 1949, quoted in

Stuckenschrnidt. Arnold Schoenberg, p. 498.

201

follows the interval pattern of alternating one and three semitones. Appropriately,
the notions of "kreisend" (circling). which the E and D# set, and "webend"
(weaving) accord with the melodic construction. This particular intervallic pattern
is common in Schoenberg's music. as in the bass line in Op. 23 No. I where this
pattern becomes the principal constructive element in both the vertical and horizontal
dimensions (Ex. 3.6e). The next phrase articulation occurs at m. 60 (Ex. 3.6d).
The three pitches preceding and following the quarter rest are inversionally-related
trichords. So instead of linking phrases by pitch, the phrases are linked by
operation which reduces pitch repetition and promotes even greater concision.
Continuing the new phrase in m. 62, the A# resumes the pattern (though not
strictly) of one and three semitone intervals with two trichords related by retrograde
and transposition: [A#, G, F#] RIO [E, E#, G#]. Although the choice of
transposition level defonns the intervallic pattern slightly, the choice also averts
unwanted pitch duplications.

202

Example 3.6
S1rinc_Quar1!t,Op. 10
Lf) I. mJn. 1-2, (I) I. nun. 8-10, ,:-) IV. mJn. 53-57, tI) IV.
~) Klaviel3tUck, Op. 23, No.1, Dlm. 1-3

mJn.

59-62

,-3-1,-2,+1 +3,
e1

If})

tId

, +3

-1

L.

J I r #fll
+3

-1

Das Buch der Han&enden Garten, Opus 15 (1908-09)

"Theory of Form" (1924)
"How One Becomes Lonely" (1937)
"Heart and Brain in Music" (1946)
"My Evolution" (1949)
II

gardens were nothing more than corrupted nature, but gardens

203
with style were nature gone mad."66
In "Theory of Form" (1924), Schoenberg notes a criticism of his
GeorgeJieder which asserts that Schoenberg does "not shrink from doing violence
to nature." This leads to a clever disquisition using all the shades of meaning of
"nature," "natural" and "naturally" to set forth ideas about the material nature of
sound and it's composition through the "force" of the inner nature of a personality.
And, this engagement is one that occurs "naturally." Thus. while form arises from
applied constraints, even the constraints occur within nature. As Schoenberg
remarks in the tradition of Moses Mendelssohn and Wilhelm von Humboldt, "there
is but one source" -- nature.
As cited above, in "How One Becomes Lonely" (1937) Schoenberg
indicates a disjuncture in the midst of work on the second Kammersymphonie.
Inspired by poems of Stefan George. Schoenberg's compositional style swerves
unexpectedly as he begins work on the songs of Opus 15 which represent "a new
path. but one beset with thorns." It is in conjunction with these songs that
Schoenberg mentions the term he could not quash, "atonality." Especially given the
importance of themes and harmonies that return at the same pitch level for the sake
of both the exposition and recollection of motivic material, a term that speaks more
to contextualization and memory would be more appropriate. Atonal as a term still
intimates an indifference to the magnetism of pitch, key notwithstanding.

66Jens Peter Jacobsen. Mo~en and Other Stories, trans. Tiina Nunnally
(Seattle: Fjord Press, 1994), p. 14. Jacobsen, it should be noted, besides being
the poet of the Gurrelieder, was a scientist and translated Darwin's On the Ori~in of
Species and The Descent of Man into Danish.

204
One marvels at the speed with which Schoenberg composed the
Geoq~elieder

which prepares one to think that speed, stylistic disjuncture and poetic

inspiration have conspired to produce a radically new musical form. Yet in "My
Evolution" (1949), Schoenberg acknowledges the new style while disavowing
anything radical about it. He downplays the radical by invoking a musical version
of the correspondence principle. Einstein invoked the correspondence principle to
posit that any new theory must account for the success and durability of the theory
it proposes to supersede. For Schoenberg, this meant understanding "how far the
ancient 'eternal' laws of musical aesthetics were observed, spumed, or merely
adjusted to changed circumstances." In Schoenberg's view, the correspondence
was great and thus "no more revolutionary than any other development in the
history of music."
Returning to the topic of concision and continuity, we could find no better
example than the seventh song of the Georgelieder, Angst und Hoffen (Ex. 3.7).67
This is the only song of Op. 15 in which phrase linking by pitch repetition is so
prevalent. For example, the pbrase ending on the word "Sehnen" (Ex. 3.7b) closes
with a descending leap from 0 to Eb. An ascending, D to Eb, by step then by leap
begets the next two phrases, "daB ich mich an Rast..." (Ex. 3.7b) and "daB mein
Lager Tranen schwemmen" (Ex. 3.7c). Similarly, the phrase that sets "von mir
webre" closes with a descending step Bb to A which is reiterated at the beginning of

61For a formal analysis which explores melodic and structural functions in

the song, see David Lewin, Generalized Musical Intervals and Transformations
(New Haven: Yale University Press, (987), pp. 125-32.

205
the next phrase, "daB ich keines Freundes... " (Ex.3.7d) This same tendency
occurs in the accompaniment where it both closes a phrase, m. 14, and bridges an
articulation, m. 16 (Ex. 3.7e). That these links at these pitch levels are so
prominent in phrase-to-phrase continuity intimate something of more than local
significance. The opening chords suggest the melodic tendencies of the song: D to
Eb, Bb to A, and Fb to F-natural (m. 10) placed about Bb as an axis of symmetry
(Ex. 3.7a).
Following Schoenberg's cue to be aware of the concentration and concision
in the presentation of the musical material, we can see this to be the case. Yet there
is no statement about directionality suggesting that Op. IS is closer to some goal
than Op. 10. In An~st und Hoffen Schoenberg is not averse to the pitch repetitions
which he avoided in Op. 10. Yet the harmonies of Entriickun~ are not as closely
identified with the melody as are the harmonies of An~st und Hoffen.

206
!xample3.7
A!lgst Ul\d Haften, Op. 15, No.7
1

Ii:

! ~~ij~ ,~ FI ~ ~ I

L-..J

un - ge-stU - mes Seh- nen,

L-J

deB ich mich an Rast und Schlef nicht kehre,

"12

~ ;' ijlp ,} j II p. ~j.!.p I ~r- JlI! f ~p i\j ~p ,j)I

L-J

da.BmeinLager

L-.-I

Freude von mir

weh-re,

L-J

da.BichlceinesFreundes

Three Piano Pieces. Opus 11 (1909)

(Op. 11 Nos. 1 and 2, February; Op. 11 No.3, August, after Op. 16 No.5)
"My Evolution" (1949)
"Technique and Style" (1950)
"Anton Webem: KIan~farbenmelodie" (1951)
"My Technique and Style" (1950) declares Opus 11 to be "a decisive step

forward" along with the Two Songs, Op. 14. Opus 11 and Opus 14 are
progressive works for their time, just as the Suite for Piano, Op. 25 and Suite for

207
Seven Instruments, Op. 29 are progressive works of the 1920s.68 Schoenberg
describes the evolutionary "path," but rather differently from the earlier essays
which emphasize necessity and directionality, :
My technique and style have not been developed by a conscious
procedure. Reviewing this development today, it seems to me that I
have moved in many roundabout ways, sometimes advancing
slowly, sometimes speedily, sometimes even falling back several
steps.69
A fascinating juxtaposition occurs in a letter the painter Franz Marc sent to
his colleague August Macke. [n the Museum of Ethnology, he was held
"spellbound" by woodcarvings from the Cameroons. Holding that history is a
burden to creativity, Marc suggests looking for "rebirth" in the art of non-European
cultures which have not attained a mature stage of development. As Marc writes:
We will have to renounce absolutely almost everything which was

68The Three Piano Pieces, Op. 11 arise only in Schoenberg's later writings.
"My Evolution" (1949) links Opus 11 with the Two Son~s, Op. 14 and the
Georgelieder as those first steps in a new phase of musical evolution. In" A SelfAnalysis (1948), Opus 11 occurs simply as a work from the "third period," along
with the Five Orchestral Pieces. Op. 16 and Pierrot Lunaire, Op. 21. "Anton
Webem: KIangfarbenmelodie" (1951), Schoenberg strives to set the record straight
as to priority. Here Schoenberg only refers to the first two pieces of Opus 11. He
showed these to Webem probably in February or March of 1909. According to
Schoenberg, he explained to Webem his plans. which were never fulfilled. to
compose a cycle of very short yet highly concentrated pieces. The plan. especially
to compose a very short piece of only "a few chords," sounds as though it might
refer to the Six Little Piano Pieces, Op. 19.
69Schoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 110.

208
precious and indispensable to us as good Central Europeans; our
ideas and ideals will have to wear hair shirts; we will have to feed
them grasshoppers and wild honey, not history .. .70
Marc continues by recounting his experience two weeks earlier at the Schoenberg
concert in Munich on January 1, 1911.
Some music I heard in Munich gave me a real jolt; chamber music
by Arnold Schonberg. Two quartets, piano pieces, and songs ...
Can you imagine music in which tonality (that is, the retention of
any key) is completely abandoned? ..Schoenberg seems convinced
of the inevitable dissolution of European art and harmony. He uses
the musical devices of the Orient, which up to now have remained
primitive. 71
The "jolt" that Marc experienced gave the impetus to a sympathetic vibration
between Marc, Kandinsky and the other artists of the Vereinigung and Schoenberg.
Though Marc invokes primitivism as the means to a fresh start for European artists,
it is a trend Schoenberg never embraced, and a term Schoenberg never used to
describe his own work.72

70Victor Miesel, ed., Voices of Expressionism (Englewood Cliffs: PrenticeHall, 1970), p. 67.
71Ibid., p. 68. The concert took place on January 1, 1911 in Munich. The
Quartets, Op. 7 and Op. 10 were played by the Rose Quartet, Marie GutheilSchoder sang Op. 10, and Etta Werndorffplayed the Three Piano Pieces, Cp. il.
72Schoenberg, "About Ornaments, Primitive Rhythms, Etc., and Bird
Song" (1922), Style and Idea, pp. 298-311.

209
Five Orchestral Pieces, Opus 16 (1909)
(Op. 16 No.1, May 23; Op. 16 Nos. 2 and 3 undated;
Op. 16 No.4, July 17; Op. 16 No.5, August)
"A Self Analysis" (1948)
Though barely mentioned in the lectures, the Five Orchestral Pieces, Op. 16
are mentioned in "A Self-Analysis" (1948) with Opus 11 and Pierrot Lunaire as
works "easy to understand" today. It goes without saying that Opus 16 was at fIrst
not well received. Sir Henry Wood's premiere perfonnance at the Promenade
Concerts - a series traditionally more conducive to eating cucumber sandwiches
than attending to new music - on September 3, 1912 was received with hissing and
laughter. The composer-conductor Max von Schillings after he was sent a score for
perusal, attempted a reading of the work with the Stuttgart Court Orchestra.
Schillings was an early supporter of Schoenberg's, having joined with Richard
Strauss in recommending Schoenberg for a scholarship which Schoenberg received
a few years in succession. Requesting the materials, Schillings wrote the publisher:
This music, which has points of contact only in a few moments with
everything that has existed up till now, interests me, extraordinarily
artistically.73
After the orchestral reading, Schillings wrote the publisher again:
I got the fIrm impression that a perfonnance here would be the
opposite of a pleasure for the composer. Our public lacks
understanding and judgment of these pieces and I and the whole
Court Orchestra do not feel we are in a position to follow
Schoenberg's feelings in this music. - The failure of this piece,
which would certainly happen here, would give a hard blow to the
whole cult of modem music to which I dedicate myself as much as I
can. -- Believe me when I say that I took these pieces very

73Stuckenschmidt, p. 178.

210
seriously; but I feel that I am too much a man of the present to be
able to put myself at the service of this musical futurism with proper
understanding. "74
Despite Schillings' protectiveness in not wanting to aggravate the trying
circumstances of modem music, he draws a distinct line between his being a "man
of the present" and his not being a musical futurist. When Schillings eventually
became President of the Prussian Academy of Art, he drew this same line with an
altered connotation when on March I, 1933 he announced that he would extirpate
all Jewish influence from the institution. 75 Without waiting for an official
termination, Schoenberg left the Academy and Berlin on May 13, 1933. By 1933,
musical futurism was reconstrued as a manifestation Jewish influence which by
nature was alien, innately unhistorical and jejune. Art so influenced was earmarked
for elimination according to antisemitic doctrine. That same year, Robert Musil
wrote facetiously: "... we men of intellect were so corrupted by Jewishness that we
no longer heard or saw anything that had not been passed through a Jewish
filter. "76

74Stuckenschmidt, p. 178.
75See Stuckenschmidt, p. 366. See also Ringer, p. 128. Ringer notes that
the announcement was made "on behalf of the Prussian Minister of Education," the
post once held by Wilhelm von Humboldt.
76Robert Musil, "Ruminations of a Slow-witted Mind" (1933), Precision
and Soul, p. 217.

211
Erwartun~, Opus 17 (1909)
(August 27 - September 12; orchestral score fInished by October 4)

Harmonielehre (1911)
"New Music: My Music" (1930)
"Heart and Brain in Music""(l946)
Schoenberg discusses the operatic monodrama Erwartun~ with respect to
three remarkable aspects of the work: harmony and orchestration (space), the vocal
line (time), and the hypertrophic compositional experience. Each of these aspects
additionally attains an historical dimension, given the context of these discussions.
The discussion of harmony and orchestration occurs in chapter 22 of the
Harmonielehre, "Aesthetic Evaluation of Chords with Six or More Tones." A
chord of eleven different tones drawn from Erwartung (mm. 382-3) exemplifies
how dissonance is mollified through a wide spacing of the tones. The Woman
sings at this point, " .. .1 believed I was happy ... " admitting, in the last moment
before dawn, both sympathy and anger for her lover's infidelity. Schoenberg also
quotes passages from Webem and Berg as well as Krenek and Bart6k which show
more or less tonal contexts when working with the full chromatic. The historical
point is one of priority, that chords with six or more tones can be found in the work
of several composers working independently outside the Schoenberg circle. Taking
the chapter as a whole, Schoenberg is indicating a perceptual and historical frontier
at which harmony per se loses its autonomy and becomes totally enmeshed in
timbre. And timbre, as nuanced a parameter as harmony or rhythm, then can take
on the character of a melody of changing timbres, Klangfarbenmelodie. We shall
return to the issue of timbre in chapter 7.

212

In "New Music: My Music" (1930), Schoenberg describes the aim of

Erwartun& as: "to represent in slow motion everything that occurs during a single
second of maximum spiritual excitement, stretching it out to half an hour... "77
Through this expansion of time, Schoenberg represents the sense of both the
graininess and continuity of consciousness. Schoenberg's point in the essay,
however, is to explain the evolutionary demands Wagner met to advance the
"connection" between music and theater. Music in Wagner's operas could serve
drama in its formal adaptability, a capacity enabling it "to find an expressive tum in
the most limited space." But Schoenberg continues his argument thus. Wagner
had "too many" musical ideas for them to be subordinated to the drama without
compromising their musical development Without citing any directly, Schoenberg
speaks of passages "from which the vocal part can no longer grow organically."
Yet even when the vocal line "grows organically" from the orchestral parts,
Schoenberg finds this the wrong way round. For Schoenberg, the vocal line is the
source: "it bears within it the text, the stage, the characters, the decor, the music,
and everything else that is expressive, while still unfolding purely in accordance
with musical laws and musical demands." That he can achieve this or even think in

77Schoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 105.

213
these terms is a debt he acknowledges to Wagner not just for Erwartuna, but for
Die gliickliche Hand, and Von heute auf Morgen as well.78

Pierrot Lunaire, Opus 21 (1912)

"The Young and I" (1923)
"A New Twelve-Tone Notation" (1924)
"My Public" (1930)
"How One Becomes Lonely" (1937)
"Heart and Brain in Music" (1946)
"Brahms The Progressive" (1947)
"A Self Analysis" (1948)
"This Is My Fault" (1949)
No other work is cited as frequently in so many essays as Pierrot Lunaire.
Frequent reference is not surprising for a work deemed to stand at the "solar
plexus" of early twentieth-century music, as Stravinsky put it, and "pushed the
Wagnerian aesthetic beyond the point of no return. "79 But assessing the historical
importance of Pierrot Lunaire, as measured by innovation, influence and audience
reception, was a task for others. not for Schoenberg. The earliest essay which
mentions Pierrot Lunaire is "The Young and I" (1923), written eleven years and
78Stuckenschmidt, pp. 128-9, 153. For Schoenberg's comments about the
review of the unperformed Herzgewachse by an absent critic see Style and Idei!,
pp. 198, 200. Schoenberg does not refer to the Three Pieces for Chamber
Orchestra (1910, unfinished), the Six Little Piano Pieces, Op. 19 (1911) or to the
Herzaewachse, Op. 20 (1911) in the historical essays. All these works are
products of both Schoenbergian concentration of fonn and Schoenbergian intuitive
(rapid) composition. Five of the little piano pieces were composed on February 19,
1911. Stuckenschmidt has noted a resemblance between the third of the Three
Pieces for Chamber Orchestra and Herzgewachse in the use of an ostinato over a
sonority in fourths. Herzgewachse was a "tumultuous" success at its premiere
during the 1927-28 season.
79Ringer, Schoenberg: The Composer as Jew, p. 168.

214
countless perfonnances after the premiere. We have mentioned this essay twice
before for its self-deprecating historicism evident when Schoenberg reevaluates his
"up-to-the-futureness." and in its satirical play on the plant historicism of Spengler.
But the irritant that gives rise to the essay as a whole is Schoenberg's anxiety of
being influential: on the one hand. the most superficial aspects of his works are
emulated. while on the other. no new works of his have been published for ten
years and "the young" are not aware of Schoenberg's new method. With the same
streak of irony Brahms used to respond to those who noted a resemblance between
the Ode to Joy theme and the finale of Brahms's First Symphony. Schoenberg
places certain details of Pierrot Lunaire in the most unremarkable light:
... many of the forms which I was supposedly the first to use in our
time will surely be found to have been used by others long before
me - if they did not indeed occur in earlier centuries. For example.
in my Pierrot Lunaire, the dance-forms (waltz and polka) and
contrapuntal studies (passacaglia, double-fugue with canon and
retrograde of the canon. etc.), the pieces for solo instruments (Der
kranke Mond) and for singing and reciting voice. with
accompaniment for various instruments. for which I was cautious
enough not to invent the title 'chamber music songs.' In the same
way, there are chamber orchestras and chamber symphonies even
before the time of Bach. How pitiful and insignificant this all is,
and how little true stimulus it offers! But who could overlook the
fact that just these stimuli are of a purely external nature? ... And
just this fact - that so far from my scores' being able to stimulate
my successors' interest, it was merely my titles' -- to nothing more
than that should one ascribe the speed at which insight was attained,
so that my nuisance value was reduced to that of a stimulus, and
nothing more. 80

In "A New Twelve-Tone Notation" (1924), Schoenberg proposes a new

notational system to reduce the clutter of accidentals in new scores. This notation

80Schoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 93-94.

215
reduces the number of lines in the staff from five (eg. e, g, b, d,

0 to three (c, e,

g#). A diagonal ledger line articulates three semitones within each space. The note

head would be placed below, on or over the diagonalledger line to specify the
pitch. Schoenberg transcribes passages from Pierrot Lunaire into this new notation
as well as the more recently composed Suite for Piano, Op. 25 to show the
advantages in clarity a new notation would offer. Pierrot Lunaire would be an
obvious choice to model the new notation since it uses a small, but varied
ensemble, and demonstrates practicability since the solo 'cello in No. 19 Serenade
traverses a three octave range. But by selecting a work a dozen years old,
Schoenberg also brings some urgency to the matter: if an older score has an affinity
for the new notation, then a newer score requires new notation all the more.
The clutter of accidentals may have been the apparent problem, but was in
fact only symptomatic. If standard notation can be said to be well adapted for tonal
composition or even to denote tonality, then the transcribing of examples for Pierrot
Lunaire into the new notation is tantamount to making a demarcation between
traditional tonality and Schoenberg's reorganization of tonal relationships.
Later essays cover more familiar concerns of Schoenberg. Beginning with
"My Public" (1930), Schoenberg recalls happily an aged Puccini who traveled
many hours to attend a performance of Pierrot Lunaire. He further recalls meeting
an elevator operator who had attended the ftrst performance of Pierrot (1912) and
who in 1930 "still had the sound of it in his ears." Schoenberg sheds more light on
his reception during 1912 in "How One Becomes Lonely" (1937). In this essay, he
recalls the climatic shift which was the fortuitous result of the Harmonielehre and

216
Pierrot Lunaire arriving on the scene at the same time. The Hannonielehre became
proof of Schoenberg's credentials, his grounding in the tradition, while Pierrot
Lunaire was taken to be altogether novel. And like Verldarte Nacht, the Quartet.
Op. 10, Das Buch der hancende Garten and Erwartung, Pierrot Lunaire is also
listed in "Heart and Brain in Music" (1946) as having been composed with extreme
rapidity.
For the 1947 essay "Brahms the Progressive" Schoenberg added an
example of musical prose drawn from Pierrot Lunaire not originally included in his
Brahms lecture of 1933 in which he used no examples from his own works. The
Pierrot example is the beginning of the 'cello solo from No. 19, "Serenade," and
shows an irregular construction based on one and two-measure units. 81 Rhythmic
stress falls in different places within each of the units contributing to the sense of
asymmetry and irregularity. This example responds to Schoenberg's hope,
expressed in "The Young and I" (1923), for a deeper reading of Pierrot Lunaire,
one that examined the interaction of existing genres and irregular phrase structures
wherein niches for the introduction of new elements could occur.

In "A Self Analysis" (1948), Schoenberg makes the following claim:

May I venture to say that, in my belief, even works of my third
period (sic) as, for example, the Three Piano Pieces, Op. 11, or the
Five Orchestral Pieces, Op. 16, and especially Pierrot Lunaire, Op.
21, are relatively easy to understand today. And if I speak at present
dispassionately about these works, one must not forget that they
were written forty or more years ago. I can look upon them as if
somebody else might be their composer, and I can explain their

81 Schoenberg,

Style and Idea, p. 428.

217
technique and their mental contents quite objectively. I see therein
things that at the time of composing were still unknown to me.82
Here may be a good point to raise a general question about being dispassionate. or
expressionless. Insofar as performance is concerned, the last word on this seems
to occur in "This Is My Fault" (1949). Schoenberg re-emphasizes the performance
instructions for Pierrot Lunaire. In his instructions Schoenberg asks the performer
to recite the text on the basis of the music and not the words. According to
Schoenberg, what followed from the misconstrual of these instructions was an antiaesthetic expressionlessness in the work of younger composers after World War 1.
Schoenberg declares this coldness nonsensical since the only reason for bringing
music to text is for the sake of expression.

Gurrelieder, (March 1900 - March 1901)

(Orchestration: August 1901-03; resumed July 1910; completed November 7.
1911) (Premiere: Sunday, February 23, 1913, Vienna)83
"My Public" (1930)
"How One Becomes Lonely" (1937)
"New Music, Outmoded Music, Style and Idea" (1946)
"On Revient Toujours" (1948)
At the premiere of the Gurrelieder, the audience which filled the great
Musiksvereinssaal applauded for half an hour. Friends and students of Schoenberg

82Schoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 79. Surely, Schoenberg means that these

are works of his second period, not third, given the time frames he outlined in
1947. Cf. fn. 4.
83Stuckenschmidt, pp. 42, 146, 184. As to the pertinent dates for
Gurrelieder, Stuckenschmidt relies on Alban Berg's guide which is based on dates
Schoenberg told Berg.

218
all attended, and the event retains the aura of both an artistic and social high point in
Schoenberg's biography.84 Be that as it may, in "How One Becomes Lonely"
1937, Schoenberg recalled the event with a different emphasis, one that
de romanticizes the event, and instead views it as a glaring asynchronism.
As usual, after this tremendous success I was asked whether I
was happy. But I was not. I was rather indifferent, if not even a
little angry. I foresaw that this success would have no influence on
the fate of my later works. I had, during these thirteen years,
developed my style in such a manner that, to the ordinary concertgoer, it seemed to bear no relation to all preceding music. I had had
to fight for every new work; I had been offended in the most
outrageous manner by criticism; I had lost friends and I had
completely lost any belief in the judgment of friends. And r stood
alone against a world of enemies. 85
Rather than attempt to show the path from the Gurrelieder to Pierrot in incremental
fashion, Schoenberg instead works by analogy, and he does this consistently from
a program note written in 1910 to essays written in the late 194Os. According to the
program of 1910, Schoenberg composed the Gurrelieder in obedience

(0

an inner

compulsion. Likewise, the works up to 1910 were also composed from a sense of
inner compulsion. The late essay, "On Revient Toujours," makes the same point
only introducing the more epic concept of destiny. The great emotionality of the
Gurreiieder, which Schoenberg brings out in "New Music, Outmoded Music, Style
and Idea" (1946), is no less true of the recent compositions.

84See Style and Idei!, p. 98 Subsequent performances of the Gurrelieder

widened support for Schoenberg. In "My Public" (1930), Schoenberg recalls a
night porter and a taxi driver who upon recognizing Schoenberg's name on a
luggage tag expressed their enthusiasm for the Gurrelieder.
85Schoenberg, Style and Ideib p. 41.

219
The circumstances of the premiere notwithstanding, Schoenberg, like
Freud, Rilke, Kraus, Mann and Hesse admired the writing of Jens Peter Jacobsen.
One striking aspect of Jacobsen's writing is his sense of naturalism. Nature does
not require intervention to carry out its processes. Jacobsen's literary depictions of
nature point to Jacobsen the natural scientist, the Danish translator of Darwin's
Origin of Species and Descent of Man. Thus underlying Jacobsen's fiction there is
the basic Darwinian assumption that all of material nature is the product of historical
(contingent) events, and that these historical processes are ongoing. Nevertheless
Jacobsen's Darwinism interacts with traditional literary elements from his culture:
myths, religious symbols, and so forth. The atheism of his position is not flaunted
but latent, causing a feeling of instability throughout the narratives. For
Schoenberg, as for others of his generation, Jacobsen's syntheses of poetry and
science was a spur toward the acceptance of the Darwinian view of nature and its
implications for understanding the human situation.

Die gliickliche Hand, Opus 18 (1908? 1910-1913)86

"The Breslau Lecture On Die gliickliche Hand" (1928)
"New Music: My Music" (ca. 1930)
The Breslau Lecture on Die gliickliche Hand (1928) and the composite
essay "New Music: My Music" (ca. 1930) both abound in thought about historical

86See Joseph Auner, "Schoenberg's Aesthetic Transformations and the

Evolution of Form in Die ~liickliche Hand," Journal of the Arnold Schoenber~
Institute 12 (1989): 126, fn. 24. Auner observes that Rufer, Stuckenschmidt,
Reich and Krebs consider a 1908 sketch as the initial work on Die ~liickliche Hand.
Maegaard and Auner disagree. Substantial work begins in September 1910.

220

perspective and purpose. Contrasting the notion of historical distance, by which a

major event can in time become barely discernible, with its opposite, that great
change can be the effect of a seemingly insignificant cause, Schoenberg argues in
the Breslau Lecture that historical distance amounts to a kind of habituation. Just as
the planets are settled in their orbits and the night sky's periodicities are apparent to
the star gazer, history is likewise settled; what was once seen as "upheaval" has
been incorporated into a norm. Deviations from the norm result in "fear to find a
new, unknown and incomprehensible reality behind the new surface."87 Here
Schoenberg switches the frame of reference from astronomy to chemistry.
Regarding the media of opera as a kind of composite, Schoenberg explains that
with Die glilckJiche Hand he was "making music with the media of the stage" by
exploring the interaction of music, light, scenery and stage direction. Again by
analogy, just as altering the structure of a molecule, even by one atom, can radically
alter that molecule's properties, so too with the media of the stage.
"New Music: My Music" (ca. 1930) is an essay in four parts: ideas,
melody. repetition and opera. "Ideas" begins with a simple notion: that ideas may
be expressed clearly in a general way so that anyone can follow them, or they may
be expressed no less clearly. but in a way that assumes a background of experience
that would allow only those sharing that experience to follow. Schoenberg's
examples of knowing how in bad weather one gets to the theater or drives on
asphalt show that the common experience of today would have been

87Arnold Schoenberg - Wassily Kandinsky: Letters. Pictures and

Documents, p.l04.

221
incomprehensible a centwy ago. More importantly, these examples serve to relate
the idea of travel as a metaphor common to both history and music in tenns of a
point of origin, a path and a destination. Using the same metaphor applied to music
history, Schoenberg argues that predominantly consonant music is easier to follow
than preponderantly dissonant music. But "as the history of music indeed proves,"
if dissonances occur in a sufficiently clear and justifiable context, then their use will
be accepted "without dispute." One other concept important to Schoenberg relates
to the path schema, and that is economy. That an artist's reach can be extended by
the ability to "cover more ground" more efficiently is one of the principles of art
Schoenberg holds highest.

In "Melody," Schoenberg argues against anachronism: melodies of a novel

structure accompanied by a "primitive" harmony or vice versa. To Schoenberg this
is as comical as someone wearing "the primitive clothes of a primitive peasant, and
rounding it all off with a top-hat and patent-leather shoes."
The third section, "Repetition" deals with what procedures make simple
music simple, and difficult music difficult. Schoenberg's music is difficult because
it eschews repetition for variation and disregards the axiom of gradualism, natura
non facit sal tum. Difficulty, in general, can be mitigated through repetition as an
aid to recognition. Conversely, "bland" simple melodies require repetition to exert
their appeal as in the seven repetitions of The Blue Danube's opening phrase. But
why be both difficult and uncompromising by writing unconventional melodies and
not promoting their memorability through repetition? "Why make it so hard for the

222
listener?" Answering this question, Schoenberg recalls the army story we
discussed in chapter two:

In the anny, a superior officer once said to me: 'So you are this
notorious Schoenberg, then: 'Beg to report, sir, yes: I replied.
'Nobody wanted to be, someone had to be, so I let it be me:88
To this Schoenberg asks himself: "Why does somebody have to be?" And he
replies with "the only possible answer": "I don't know." How ingenuous is this
answer? Evasion or not, economy and complexity are Schoenberg's basic themes.
As noted above, Schoenberg remarked on the centrality of the vocal line as

the bearer of all other features of the work. Now let us regard a quote which occurs
in the fourth section of the essay under the subhead "Opera":
The common denominator of the two works [Erwartung and Die
gltickliche Hand] is something like this: In Erwartung the aim is to
represent in slow motion everything that occurs during a single
second of maximum spiritual excitement, stretching it out to half an
hour, whereas in Die gliickliche Hand a major drama is compressed
into about 20 minutes, as if photographed with a time-exposure. 89
Though only loosely related to opera, the previous sections bear on this final
section on opera through their emphasis on psychological time, and in turn opera's
use as a vehicle for exploring inner states of consciousness withdrawn from explicit
social, political or other narrative contexts.

88Schoenberg, Style and

Ide~

p. 104.

89Schoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 105.

223
Four Orchestral SonGs, Opus 22 (1913-16)
"Analysis of the Four Orchestral Sonl:s" (1932)
Stefan George's translation of the poem "Seraphita" by Ernest Dowson
(1867-1900), the poems "AIle, welche dich suchen," and "Mach mich zu Wachter
deiner Weiten," from "Oas Stunden-Buch" (1905) by Rainer Maria Rilke (18751927), and "VorGefiihl," from RiIke's Oas B uch der B ilder (1906) comprise, in that
order, the texts of Schoenberg's Four Orchestral Songs, Op. 22. The ink was dry
on "Seraphita" (October 1912; rev. November 1912) for over a year before
Schoenberg set" AIle, welche dich suchen," and "Mach mich zu Wachter deiner
Weiten," (completed December 3, 1914 and January I, 1915 respectively).90
Schoenberg composed the fourth song from the 19th to 28th of July 1916. Yet
Opus 22 represents just one aspect of Schoenberg's branching artistic enterprise at
this time. During a ten-year time frame beginning in 1912, Schoenberg began to
conceive the complex of religious-compositional projects from which the oratorio
Die Jakobsleiter evolved. For these projects Schoenberg selected texts from the
Bible, texts by Strindberg, Balzac, Tagore and Oehmel, as well as texts of his own.
None by Rilke. Am Strande, a song from 1908, was the only previous setting of
Rilke by Schoenberg.
Musil eulogized Rilke in 1927 as "a poet who leads us into the future ...
inner images arise out of Rilke's poems not like a prophecy but as an anticipatory

90See Rufer, Works of Arnold SchoenberG, p. 41. See also

Stuckenschmidt, Arnold SchoenberG, pp. 189,241. Opus 22, No.1 October 6,
1913; Opus 22 No.2, December 3, 1914; Opus 22 No.3, January 1, 1915.
Schoenberg worked on Opus 22 No.4, from the 19th to the 28th of July 1916.

224
scent... "91 Inward development is once again tied to a sense of futurity, as we
have seen earlier with respect to Goethe, Humboldt, Hegel and Nietzsche.
Remarkably, the meaning Musil distills from his study of Rilke's poetry has the
appearance of exactly what Schoenberg strives to depict at this time:
This meaning does not unfold by leaning up against the wall of
some ideology, humanity, or world opinion for protection, but
arises with no support or hold from any side as something left over,
free and hovering. from intellectual movement. The "insideness"
[lnseitigkeit] of Rilke's poem has just as peculiar and striking a
configuration as the outer form, even though it is far less accessible
to analysis and description. Were one to set up a series, with the
didactic poem, the allegory, and the political poem at one end, that
is, forms that are the product of an already complete knowledge and
will, Rilke's poem would stand at the opposite end, as pure process
and shaping of spiritual powers, which in him, for the first time.
find name and voice.92
Musil is surely correct that the "insideness" of a poem "is far less accessible to
analysis." Through a series of analytical examples, Schoenberg's 1932 Frankfurt
Radio Lecture on Opus 22 attempts to convey the "pure process and shaping of
spiritual powers" at work in the score, or, as Schoenberg puts it, "the unconscious
sway of musical logic." Schoenberg's lecture concentrates on the "outer fonn." in
hope of spurring his listener's capacity to recognize his themes as themes with evervaried recurrences and harmonic reformulations. Variation is the concept that
connects the outside to the inside. To recognize outwardly varied shapes is to grow
better acquainted with the inner potential of the basic shape of the theme.

91Musil. Precision and Soul, pp. 248-9.

92Musil. Precision and Soul, p. 248.

225
Schoenberg begins the lecture by placing the songs in the context of the
works "leading up to and beyond them [i.e. the songs Opus 22]" in order to
"characterize" their style. Recalling the works of 1908 to start his narrative, he
refers to songs, presumably the Geor~eIieder, which abandon "both a tonal center"
and "the methods of dissonance treatment that had been customary up to that time."
Dissonances were to assume now the "function of shaping form" instead of
consonances. In concert with the progressive role of dissonance, concision of form
("brevity") for the sake of comprehension became an overarching value.
Schoenberg then credits "extra-musical" sources with guiding him across the
threshold of this new style and permitting him to abandon procedures that elaborate
themes through persistent repetition. Finding help or inspiration outside a purely
musical frame of reference is, as Schoenberg says: "No new procedure in the
history of music!" Insights and impressions gained from poetry in synergetic
combination with a consistently reliable (i.e. "proven") "feeling for form,"
grounded on a base spanning both historical and systematic dimensions (i.e. both
inductive and deductive), advanced the dissonant style.

In the midst of this explanation we fInd what is perhaps the locus classicus
concerning what distinguishes twelve-tone composition from its immediate
predecessors: .... .it was only through composition with twelve tones that the
formal possibilities of an absolute music were unleashed and broken through, freed
from all admixture of extra-musical elements." This remark supports the view, a
view espoused by Milton Babbitt, that composition with twelve tones enabled
Schoenberg to compose large forms. That is not to say large purely in terms of

226
measure numbers, but large in tenns of the advertent use of organizational
principles extensive in their reach and comprehensive in their implications. This
view has also been turned on its head when used to suggest that the engagement
with poetry and the move toward concision represented a loss of design potential
which Schoenberg surrendered with tonality: "Indeed, the works immediately
preceding his use of the tone-row reflect this loss in their brevity, or their
dependence on a text."93 As we have already seen, Schoenberg saw the move
toward concision not as a sacrifice, but as an original and compelling step with
respect to presenting an extreme emotional state within the framework of a modern
understanding of time. As for "dependence" on a text, dependence is too strong a
word. How the text of, say,

Erwartun~

could be articulated into connecting

episodes of differing character, and how a comprehensive vocal line embracing all
facets of the drama could be achieved, does not suggest dependence on a text so
much as creating music, and especially conceiving a vocal line, upon which the text
would become dependent.
Schoenberg's analysis has a refractory effect upon Opus 22 as the earliest
essay to draw such a sharp distinction between the contribution of extra-musical
influences as opposed to the potential for a new absolute music residing in the
twelve-tone method.

93Andrew Mead, "Large-Scale Strategy in Arnold Schoenberg's TwelveTone Method," Journal of Music Theory 29 (1985): 98.

227
Die Jakobsleiter, (1917-1922; left incomplete)
"On My Fiftieth Birthday: September 13, 1924"
"My Evolution" (1948)
Most of Schoenberg's "My Evolution" (1948) is occupied with works
written before 1915. The new modes of rapidly-changing expression and new
techniques of "beginning, continuing, contrasting, repeating, and ending" in these
pre-1915 works all drive home the conclusion that: "Music without a constant
reference to a tonic was comprehensible, could produce characters and moods,
could provoke emotions, and was not devoid of gaiety or humor."94 For all intents
and purposes, Schoenberg's creative evolution had achieved success in bringing
diversity of expression to dissonant music, except that in 1915: "Time for a change
had arrived." And that time marked the beginning of twelve-tone composition.
Schoenberg begins the narration of the history of composition with twelve
tones related one to another by mentioning a fortuitous accident, namely, the
composition of the Scherzo theme from the fragmentary Symphony 1914-15 which
"accidentally consisted of twelve tones." That this ostinato-like theme, which uses
each of the twelve tones once, was composed accidentally is quite significant in that
the notion of an accident obviates questions of influence and priority, while it
invokes the trope, no less the mystique, of accidental discovery. Accidental
discovery comes up as a theme in a brilliant passage from the Harmonielehre (1911)
in which Schoenberg explains why he will refrain from positing natural laws to
explain some musical phenomenon. As someone who understands science to be an

94Schoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 88.

228
enterprise in flux, Schoenberg expects such laws to be refuted and superseded in
time. Alluding to Henri Becquerel's accidental discovery of radioactivity in 1896
and Strindberg's obsessive dabbling in alchemy, Schoenberg writes:
Thus, the alchemists, in spite of their rather poor instruments,
recognized the possibility of transmuting the elements, whereas the
much better equipped chemists of the nineteenth century considered
the elements irreducible and unalterable, an opinion that has since
been disproved. If this view [of nineteenth-century chemists] has
now been superseded, we owe this fact, not to better observations,
nor to better perception, nor to better conclusions, but to an
accidental discovery. The advance therefore. did not come as a
necesscuy consequence of anything; it could not have been predicted
on the basis of any particular accomplishment; it appeared rather in
spite of all efforts, unexpected, undeserved, and perhaps even
undesired. 95 (Emphasis added.)
According to Schoenberg's view, accidental discovery defies anticipation, a view
which puts a hole in the bucket theory of knowledge and its reliance on cumulative
and unimpeded observation. This should make us wonder how Schoenberg can
maintain the idea that the method of twelve-tone composition is a product of
necessity (Le. an evolutionary adaptation) rather than a revolutionary innovation.

In 1895, the year prior to Becquerel's archetypal "accidental discovery,"

Ernst Mach, on assuming the Professorship of the History and Theory of Inductive
Science at the University of Vienna, delivered an address subsequently published in
The Monist under the title, "On the Part Played By Accident in Invention and

95Schoenberg, Theory of Harmony, p. 20.

229
Discovery."96 As a professor of inductive science, Mach, not surprisingly,
understood "the capacity to profit by experience" to be the keystone of intelligence.
Yet Mach's discussion transcends any single mechanical or methodological
procedure in facing accidental discoveries. In fact, Mach's idea of how the mind
can wrap itself around an unanticipated problem approaches the concept of the
nonratioid articulated by Musil, who wrote his dissertation on Mach. Mach writes:
.. .if the psychical life is subjected to the incessant influences of a
powerful and rich experience, then every representative element in
the mind is connected with so many others that the actual and natural
course of the thoughts is easily influenced and determined by
insignificant circumstances, which accidentally are decisive.
Hereupon, the process tenned imagination produces its protean and
infinitely diversified forms. Now what can we do to guide this
process, seeing that the combinatory law of the images is without
our reach? ..The idea dominates the thought of the inquirer, not the
latter the fonner. 97
Bringing contingency, experience, memory and imagination together in this way,
Mach enriches the notion of accidental discovery. He not only sounds a common
tone with Musil, but places the "idea" very much in the same position in which
Schoenberg places it: foremost in the mind and key to the development of unity
from accidental discoveries which arise either through the sense data of experiment
or the thought processes of reflection. Composing a theme partakes of both. What
Mach does not say, however, is that the path to unity should be itself unilinear.
The imagination is too restless for that. By invoking the "accident" archetype,

96Emst Mach, "On The Part Played By Accident In Invention and

Discovery," The Monist 6 (1896): 161-175.
97Emst Mach, p. 171-2.

230
Schoenberg heightens the sense of possibility and complexity, despite the more or
less linear sequence of the narrative. Opus 22, No.4 "Vorgefiihl" which represents
the sense of change in the air, without being part of the twelve-tone story, had still

to be composed in 1916. It was not until 1917 that" a further step in this direction
was taken" when Schoenberg, with intention, "planned to build the main themes of

[the] unfinished oratorio, Die lakobsleiter, out of the six tones of this row," the
octatonic segment <C#, D, E, F, G, Ab>.
Schoenberg's narration of how he arrived at the method in the essay
"Composition With Twelve Tones" (ca. 1948) is different from the version in "My
Evolution" (1948) in that the key word, "accident," is missing. Schoenberg
emphasizes instead the advantages of his twelve-tone method over that of Hauer's

by virtue of its formal efficacy and aural cogency. About Die lakobsleiter in
particular, Schoenberg avers that upon his retirement from the University of
California when he returned to Die lakobsleiter after it lay dormant for nearly
twenty-five years, what he found was a work whose beginning was that of "a real
twelve-tone composition."98 But as Schoenberg continues, he "was still at this
time far away from the methodical application of a set." Still, in both narratives Die
lakobsleiter is subordinated to the history of twelve-tone composition, and
Schoenberg never finds an occasion to say directly what Die lakobsleiter and the
whole project from which it stemmed were all about.

98Schoenberg, Style and Idea, pp. 247-8.

231
The complex of projects conceived as the Symphony 1914-15 are overladen
with intentions expressed as early as 1912.99 And it is a little ironic to see so much
intention amount to so many fragments, for in Schoenberg's view, fragments
cannot really assume a place in history. Only works, in their real-ideal existence
which embody an idea are historical. So it is unusual that a Scherzo fragment and
an unfinished oratorio figure quite so prominently as an articulation in the story of
Schoenberg's evolution, especially when the intention behind the project flew in the
face of Schoenberg's previous efforts in reducing the proportions of works, and
concentrating their contents. These works, which we have already discussed,
attained their historical position with respect to their greater concision and more
rapid and extensive use of variation. Now we ask: what features intrinsic to Die
lakobsleiter suggest its historical position? In one sense, as a religious work
representing an ahistorical situation, it is once again ironic that its unintended
fallout, a rudimentary kind of twelve-tone composition should occur here rather
than in say Opus 22, No.4 whose theme is the future. On the other hand, the quest
for unity, which is the theme of the oratorio and the motto for the twelve-tone
enterprise, makes Die lakobsleiter ideal as both a real and metaphorical fons et
origo for twelve-tone composition. Technical innovations such as the twelve-tone
Scherzo theme and the unordered source hexachord become part of Die lakobsleiter

99See Arnold Schoenber~ Letters, pp. 35-36. In an oft-quoted letter of

Oecember 13, 1912 to the poet Richard Oehmel, Schoenberg sets forth the idea for
an oratorio concerning the religious impulse in modem man, and asks Oehmel to
write a text on the subject for the oratorio. Schoenberg's mood is that of Koheleth,
the author of Ecclesiastes, a mood uncongenial to Oehmel given the texts he sent to
Schoenberg instead.

232
as Die lakobsleiter's theme of unity is assimilated into twelve-tone history. In
"Composition With Twelve Tones" (1941). arguing on the basis of their cogency
and historical precedent that the twelve tone operations - transposition. inversion.
retrograde and retrograde inversion - are not mere "devices," and illustrating the
point with a comparison of the principal and inversionally related second theme of
the Kamrnersymphonie, Op. 9, Schoenberg writes:
It should be mentioned that the last century considered such a
procedure cerebral, and thus inconsistent with the dignity of genius.
The very fact that there exist classical examples proves the
foolishness of such an opinion. But the Validity of this form of
thinking is also demonstrated by the previously stated law of the
unity of musical space, best formulated as follows: the unity of
musical space demands an absolute and unitaIy perception. In this
space, as in Swedenborg's heaven described in Balzac's Seraphita
there is no absolute down, no right or left forward or backward.
Every musical configuration, every movement of tones has to be
comprehended primarily as a mutual relation of sounds, of
oscillatory vibrations, appearing at different places and times. To
the imaginative and creative facuIty, relations in the material sphere
are as independent from directions or planes as material objects are,
in their sphere, to our perceptive facuIties. Just as our mind always
recognizes, for instance, a knife, a bottle or a watch, regardless of
its position, and can reproduce it in the imagination in every possible
position, even so a musical creator's mind can operate
subconsciously with a row of tones, regardless of their direction,
regardless of the way in which a mirror might show the mutual
relations, which remain a given quality .100

lOOSchoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 223. See also Robert Musil, The Man
Without Qualities, p. 1311. About Swedenborg, Musil writes: "Swedenborg ...
[this] old metaphysician and engineer - who made no small impression on Goethe,
and even on Kant - [talked] as confidently about heaven and the angels as if it were
Stockholm and its inhabitants."

233
The only one of Schoenberg's compositions that makes explicit reference to
Swedenborg's conception of heaven is Die Iakobsleiter which begins with
Gabriel's words:
Ob rechts, ob links, vorwarts oder riickwarts, bergauf oder bergab man hat weiterzugehen, ohne zu fragen, was vor oder hinter einem
liegt.
[Whether to the right or to the left, forwards or backwards, uphill or
down, one must continue, without asking, what lies ahead or
behind.]
Rather than Die lakobsleiter bestowing a kind of religious mystique to twelve-tone
composition, the principles of twelve-tone composition make an abstraction of Die
Iakobsleiter's religious themes, or as Alexander Ringer put it: ".. .the new method
of composing with twelve tones was the abstract embodiment of the oratorio's
spiritual quest."lOl The question to which we shall need to return in the next
chapter is: in what kind of work does Schoenberg's religious impulse come
together with his historical consciousness? In this sense, the work that achieves the
greatest immediacy would be A Survivor From Warsaw, a work curiously not
counted among Schoenberg's religious works.
Five Piano Pieces, Opus 23 (1920-23)
"On My Fiftieth Birthday" (1924)
"Composition With Twelve Tones (2)" (1948)
"My Evolution" (1949)
By 1924, Schoenberg was already writing about works in terms of their

10 I Alexander

Ringer, Arnold Schoenberg: The Composer as Jew, p. 54.

234
service to the development of "twelve-tone composition" and not vice versa 102
Twenty-four years later. in the essays "My Evolution" and "Composition With
Twelve Tones," the ramifications of this way of thinking are more pronounced: the
Five Piano Pieces, Op. 23 comprise an early step or transitional phase Schoenberg
called "working with the tones of the motive." 103 Another work so labeled as
transitional was the Quartet, Op. 10, a transition Schoenberg characterized
somewhat differently. That transition had more to do with the realization that a
freer use of dissonance would be impossible if reference to a single tonality were to
persist as a compositional requirement. This critical situation as it arose in the Op.
10 was not a fault or defect of the composition. When Schoenberg looks at Op. 23,
No.1, he looks at it by twelve-tone standards and implies that the piece is defective
by those standards due to pitch repetitions. Such an assessment recalls Hegel on
the subject of transitional stages which undermine the unity of the "Concept" behind
the work: "... hybrid transitional stages... are just merely defective fonTIS which
leave one chief stage without being able to attain the following one. "104 In chapter
six, we shall return to the case of Op. 23 to discuss the implications of this view on
both aesthetic and historical grounds. By taking transitional forms to be defective,
a prejudice can pervert aesthetic judgment. And, a distortion of historical judgment

102Schoenherg, "On My Fiftieth Birthday: September 13, 1924," Style and

Idea, p. 23.
I03Schoenberg, Style and

Ide~

pp. 89-90.

I04Hegel, Aesthetics, trans. T. M. Knox (Oxford. 1991), p. 382.

235
can result if we do not determine whether the transition occurs in linear fashion as
an intennediate form between two mature forms, or if it represents its own project
in a branching rather than a linear fashion. The chronology of Op. 23, Op. 24, Op.
25 and Die Iakobsleiter indicates, as we shall see, a branching "network of
enterprises" to use Howard Gruber's phrase. Individual branches are not so
autonomous that they cannot interrelate, and as networks not so interrelated that the
standards one branch should necessarily bear the weight of all the others. Gruber,
in his studies of Darwin, has found the network model especially appropriate at
times of intense creative activity in an artist's or scientist's life's work. 105

Serenade, Opus 24 (1920-23)

"On My Fiftieth Birthday" (1924)
"Composition With Twelve Tones (2)" (1948)
"My Evolution" (1949)
Schoenberg assigns much the same role to the Serenade that he assigned to
the Five Piano Pieces, Op. 23: the movements represent various stages on the way
to composition with twelve tones.l 06 The fourth movement, a setting of the
Sonnen Nr. 217 von

Petrarc~

is "the one really twelve-tone movement" in the

105See Doris B. Wallace and Howard E. Gruber, Creative People at Work

(Oxford, 1989).
I06See Schoenberg, "Composition With Twelve Tones" (ca. 1948), ~
and Idea, p. 248.

236
work.107 Two examples from the Serenade that occur in "My Evolution" illustrate
significant advances in twelve-tone composition. The first example concerning
chromatic completion is drawn from the Tanzscene. Schoenberg calls our attention
to the middle section CUindler-Tempo) in which the six tones used in the
accompaniment. drawn unordered from the movement's opening mandolin theme.
are complemented by the six tones supplied by the main theme in the clarinet.
The second example, drawn from the third movement. Variationen, shows
us how Schoenberg had begun to work with both prime and inversional set forms
and their retrogrades:
Here for the first time, the "consequent" consists of a retrograde
repetition of the "antecedent." The following variations use
inversions and retrograde inversions. diminutions and
augmentations. canons of various kinds. and rhythmic shifts to
different beats - in other words. all the technical tools of the method
are here. except the limitation to only twelve different tones.l 08
Above. Schoenberg speaks only about "technical tools" rather than results. Ethan
Haimo has noted two results that should be mentioned. One positive result is a
richness of invariant segments between the Po and Io set fonns. Invariance was a
property Schoenberg cultivated as he came to select a wider range of set forms
which would maintain invariant segments. 109 This predilection for invariance
carries forward the use of linking motives characteristic of Opp. 9 and 10. One
I07See Schoenberg, "My Evolution" (1949), Style and Idea. p. 90.
IOSSchoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 91.
I09Milton Babbitt. "Twelve-Tone Invariants as Compositional
Determinants," Musical Quarterly 46 (1960): 246-59.

237
negative result Haimo points out is that Schoenberg, who began composing the
Serenade with the third movement. was not able to fulfill his intention of unifying
the work through the use of one set. I 10

As for the outer history of the Serenade, Stuckenschmidt finds in this work
"a new spirit." and mentions the rhythmic features of the piece as being "most
remarkable" and "surprisingly close to Stravinsky."lll Though Stuckenschmidt
does not use the term neoclassical. he does find the work reminiscent of the
classical serenade in its "irony and roguery." I12 Alexander Ringer understands the
Serenade as not so much "a new spirit" but as a new manifestation of an earlier
work which "pushed the Wagnerian aesthetic well beyond the point of no return,"
Pierrot Lunaire:

In Prague [pierrot Lunaire1not only determined the artistic direction

of the Verein in its fonnative stages; it was also the feature event on
its final programme. The rest of that historic concert of 2 May 1924
was given over to the first performance of the piece in which Pierrot
assumed the post-war garb of neo-Classicism: the Serenade, Gp.
24. The pairing of Schoenberg's pre-war masterpiece and its natural
progeny of course made eminent stylistic sense.! 13

Ii0See Jan Maegaard, Studien, i. 97-107. See also Ethan Haimo,

Schoenberg's Serial Odyssey. pp. 78-85. Schoenberg's sketches for four of the
other movements of the Serenade, the Lied and Finale being the exceptions, reveal
that the set used for the variations would be the same for these other movements.
The Serenade evolved otherwise.
lllStuckenschmidt, p. 289.
ll2lbid.
ll3Alexander Ringer. Schoenberg: The Composer As Jew, p. 168.

238
Richard Taruskin has written of Schoenberg's "neoclassical conversion" which is
evidenced not only by an urgent move to "abstract fonnal procedures," but also by
"traits of authoritarian intransigence, fealty to a rigid social hierarchy, [and] an
aggressive propagation of a national hegemony Schoenberg made common cause
with. "114 Taruskin adduces the passage below from a letter to Prince Max Egon
Ftirstenburg as a noxious expression of these traits:
The splendid enterprise in Donaueschingen is something I have
long admired: this enterprise that is reminiscent of the fairest, alas
bygone, days of art when a prince stood as a protector before an
artist, showing the rabble that art, a matter for princes, is beyond the
judgment of common people. And only the authority of such
personages in that it pennits the artist to participate in the distinctive
position bestowed by a higher power is able to demonstrate the
demarcation in a sensuously tangible manner to all those who are
merely educated, who have merely worked their way up, and to
make manifest the difference between those who have become what
they are and those who were born what they are.l l5
The Serenade in particular is embroiled in this political profile first by association
since Schoenberg was to conduct it at the behest of Prince Max Egon Ftirstenburg
who invited Schoenberg to the 1924 music festival at Donaueschingen. About
Schoenberg's letter of thanks to the Prince for the invitation, Stuckenschmidt who
reads it rather differently from Taruskin, comments:
He [Schoenberg] thanked him [the Prince] in a letter of old

114Richard Taruskin, "The Dark Side of the Moon: The Sins ofToscanini,
Stravinsky, Schoenberg," The New Republic (September 5, 1988): 32-3.
115Schoenberg to Prince Egon Ftirstenburg, n.d., "but evidently April
1924" in Arnold Schoenber~ Letters, ed. Erwin Stein, p. 108.

239
Frankonian politeness, which shows his admiration for artistically
minded princes, not without narvete. 1l6
Using Robert Musil's work as a touchstone on how one addressed a prince, one is
less surprised by Schoenberg's romanticizing the old order of a congenial
symbiosis between artists and princes as a matter of politeness. But does this letter
denote an aggressive German nationalism with which Schoenberg chose to make
common cause?
Neither Taruskin nor Stuckenschmidt mention that one year earlier
Schoenberg wrote a very bitter letter to Kandinsky in April 1923 - less than a week
after completing the Tanzscene and Finale, and beginning the Wind Quintet which if anything severs affiliation with German nationalism:
For I have at last learned the lesson that has been forced upon me
during this year, and I shall not ever forget it. It is that I am not a
German, not a European. indeed perhaps scarcely even a human
being (at least. the Europeans prefer the worst of their race to me).
but I am a Jew.I 17
At first it seems hard to reconcile these two letters. Yet realizing that the project of
Jewish emancipation was bound to become a fiasco without protection from the
monarchy, and realizing that Jewish emancipation based on Bildung - education
and assimilation - was becoming a sham, the monarchist sensibility Schoenberg
expresses -- that it is not what one makes of oneself but what title one is born to betrays a sense of dread and conflict.

116Stuckenschmidt, p. 294.
117Schoenberg to Wassily Kandinsky, 20 April 1923, Arnold Schoenberg
Letters, p. 88.

240

This same conflict underlies the neoclassicism of the Serenade whose

forms, classical proportions and atypically unvaried version of the Marsch (which
returns in the Finale) seem to mask a vision of destruction. Only in live
perfonnance do the benign aspects of the Serenade give way to a darker vision. At
the end of one perfonnance I attended. some listeners took the program for the
Serenade to be that of Kristallnacht, the pogrom against Gennan and Austrian Jews
that took place from November 9-10, 1938, fIfteen years after Schoenberg
composed the piece. It was not simply the music's dissonance that sparked such a
horrendous association, but the sense that such a horrendous event was foreseen
and could be expressed in music. Schoenberg reception, at least in some quarters,
has wedded his prophetic forboding, sensed in the music, to the actualities he
foresaw.

Suite for Piano, Opus 25 (1921-23)

"On My Fiftieth Birthday" (1924)
"A New Twelve-tone Notation" (1924)
"Composition With Twelve Tones (I)" (1941)
"Composition With Twelve Tones (2)" (1948)
"Technique and Style" (1950)
I have arrived at the place where many people would, in the
interests of their plans for the further development of musical
history, be glad to see me .. .! 18
This tongue-in-cheek remark of Schoenberg's, occasioned by his fIftieth
birthday in 1924, sought to confound those who assumed that by virtue of

118Schoenberg, "On My Fiftieth Birthday: September 13, 1924," Style

and Idea, p. 24.

241
dwindling publications, Schoenberg was fInished as a creative artist. That
Schoenberg in the same essay denotes as "fIrst steps": the Five Piano Pieces, Gp.

23, the Serenade. Op. 24, the Suite for Piano, Gp. 25 and the Wind Quintet, Gp.
26, at least as far as the "technique" of "twelve-tone composition" is concerned,
belies the appearance of a composer who has run out of ideas. His awareness in

1924 of being at the early and not the culminating phase of an endeavor, casts these
works in the light of Schoenberg's comic emplotment of history. And it is indeed
comic to imagine Schoenberg, the mature artist, once again as a wobbly-legged foal
by virtue of an ad hoc method. in its earliest phases, even if it developed at a
relatively rapid pace.
The earliest writings on the twelve-tone method show the degree to which
Schoenberg depended on his "background-knowledge" of form, while at the same
time he wanted "to try out the new resources independently." I 19 fn September

1923, while in the midst of the Wind Quintet after having completed Opp. 23, 24
and 25, Schoenberg, speaking only of technical matters, set forth four things "to be
done in music," which he had in fact begun to do. These amounted to I) bringing
restraint to the extreme tendencies of twelve-tone composition, 2) concentrating on
part writing, thus leaving harmonies to be abstracted later, 3) availing old forms of

119Schoenberg, "Twelve-Tone Composition" (1923), Style and Idea. p.

207. See also Joseph Agassi, The Gentle Art of Philosophical Polemics (LaSalle,
illinois: Open Court, 1988), p. 443. Agassi writes: "Background-knowledge is a
mixed bag of working hypotheses and rules of thumb, of scientifIc theories of
varieties of levels and metaphysical doctrines, religion, superstition, and what not."
We depend on the stability of background-knowledge to attack problems. New
solutions force us to reconfIgure our background-knowledge.

242
the new "sound material", and 4) turning away from the extremes of expressionism
"as a reaction against the musical epoch that has just run its course." 120 This plan
attests to reliance on a background knowledge of how the method might pull itself
up by its own bootstraps and walk on its own two feet. Notation also figured in
winning autonomy for the new resources.l 21
By the 1940s the background-knowledge of twelve-tone composition
attained stability. What had formerly seemed ad hoc and rather precarious in its
first phases, Schoenberg had come to understand as the product of a necessity; the
decade's work prior to the method, had begun to look like so much foundering.
The accounts of both Schoenberg and Webem agree on this point. As for their
social aspect, Schoenberg's writings become less concerned with the public, and
more concerned with the story of the method.
Mention of the Piano Suite, Op. 25 occurs in both "Composition with
Twelve Tones (1)" (1941) and "Composition with Twelve Tones (2)" (ca. 1948).
Of the two essays, the 1948 essay is the more concise and more strictly concerned
with narrative questions of what came before and what came after. This is the local
context in which passing reference to the Piano Suite occurs:

120Schoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 137

121"A New Twelve-Tone Notation" (1924), an essay also from
Schoenberg's fIftieth year which we discussed earlier in reference to Pierrot
Lunaire, offers two transcriptions of the Intennezzo from Opus 25 - one uses
staves of six lines each, the other of three. There is not much comment about these
transcriptions other than that they are "easier to decipher" and that the two three-line
staves of his notational scheme are adequate for piano music. This essay also
suggests a sense of pioneering, even if this notation was never widely accepted.

243
Before I wrote my first strict composition with twelve tones -- in
1921 - I had still to pass through several stages. This can be
noticed in two works which I had panly written preceding the Piano
Suite, Op. 25 - partly even in 1919, the Five Piano Pieces, Op. 23,
and the Serenade, Op. 24. In both these works there are parts
composed in 1922 and 1923 which are strict twelve-tone
compositions. But the rest represent the aforementioned stages.l 22
Schoenberg's main purpose at this point in the essay is to assert that the preliminary
stage he called "working with the tones of the motive" was "an exercise
indispensable for the acquisition of a technique to conquer the obstacles which a set
of twelve tones opposes to a free production of fluent writing."
The thesis of "Composition with Twelve-Tones" (1948) states at the outset:
"The method of composition with twelve tones purports the reinstatement of the
effects formerly furnished by the structural functions of the harmony."l23
Schoenberg immediately qualifies his thesis noting that twelve-tone composition
cannot fulfill all the structural functions of harmony, nor can it "exert influences of
similar ways on the inner organization of the smaller segments." Arguing the other
side, Schoenberg adds that tonal harmony, as has become apparent from the
advanced works of Debussy, Mahler and Strauss, "never had the task of
accomplishing all structural techniques alone." As far as the Piano Suite is
concerned, the argument is moot since we learn from the 1923 essay "New Music"
that harmonic thinking was deferred until a time when twelve-tone harmonies
would be governable. The 1948 essay echoes this position as a lesson from history

122Schoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 248.

123Schoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 245.

244
which "shows that harmony was the last contribution to music at a time when there
was already great development in existence of melody and rhythm." By inference,
we might accept the view that the Piano Suite is not the product of analogy, by
which analogous twelve-tone materials replace tonal structural functions - a natural
tendency given the binary structure of dance movements in a suite - but that it is the
product of homology: that the fonns are descended from Opus 23 and Opus 24 by
virtue of the techniques which articulate and unify the dances. Regrettably, this
view is not sufficiently elaborated by Schoenberg.
The earlier "Composition with Twelve-Tones (1)" (1941) is much longer
and essayistic. With a beginning that compares how Divine Creation is different
from human creation, we see a key instance of Schoenberg's religious impulse
competing with but also complementing his historical consciousness. In that the
path from vision to realization is necessarily eventful for the human creator, human
creativity complements Divine Creation which is realized at once. But insofar as the
experience of Divine Creation suggests a timeless immediacy inherent in religious
experience, historical consciousness competes by diffusing the urgency of the
religious impulse. Thus to function as a creative artist according to Schoenberg's
thesis, creativity must entail historical thinking, stated simply: "The method of
composing with twelve tones grew out of a necessity."124 Harmony's rapid
development during the nineteenth centwy, the concomitant "extension of tonality,"

124Schoenberg, Style and Idei!, p. 216.

245
and the eventual if not inevitable "emancipation of the dissonance" created the
necessity for a "radical" change in compositional technique. l25
As with the 1948 essay, by placing harmonic thinking on the highest
musical plateau, Schoenberg seems not to include the Piano Suite among the
harmonically-conceived twelve-tone works. Yet the important insight from the
1941 essay is Schoenberg's example of what he wanted to avoid: polyphony
which would reinforce certain pitches harmonically by virtue of octave doubling.
Schoenberg's example shows that he selected transposition at the tritone for the
accompanying voices to avoid such harmonic reinforcement acoustically suggestive
of tonality. 126

Wind Quintet. Opus 26 (1923-24)

"On My Fiftieth Birthday: September 13. 1924"
"Composition With Twelve Tones (1)" (1941)
Schoenberg's concerns about producing sufficient variety with the new
resources is reminiscent of similar concerns in the catacomb scene from Pelleas und
Melisande -- and no less urgent. In Pelleas, the music avoids reference to a tonic.
but raises the question of how wide a range of affects dissonant music can express
and how fluidly this can be done. As we learn from "My Evolution" (1949)
125Ibid.
126See Ethan Haimo, pp. 85-89. Ethan Haimo shows that the Prelude and
Intermezzo, both from 1921, arise from three tetrachords that together happen to
form an aggregate as opposed to the movements composed in 1923 which use the
set as a set. Schoenberg does not make this fine point in the 1941 essay. but the
sketches for the Piano Suite indicate the difference in technique.

246
Schoenberg felt he had succeeded in enlarging the expressive capacity of dissonant
music by emancipating dissonance from the catacombs as well as from tonality
before he even took his first steps as a twelve-tone composer. And like the Piano
Suite, Schoenberg counts the Wind Quintet among his first steps in twelve-tone
composition.1 27 He characterizes the Suite, Opus 29 (1925-26) as his tum to the
"Apollonian" style. 128
Stuckenschmidt refers to the Wind Ouintet as "Schoenberg's most
conservative attempt to combine strict twelve-tone technique with classical methods
of writing and fonn." I 29 Not only is this evident from the four-movement layout:
sonata, scherzo and trio, song fonn (poco adagio) and rondo, but also from the
structure of the row which, as Willi Reich has noted, emphasizes fifth relatedness
between the two hexachords. Ethan Raimo's analysis shows an even more
comprehensive view: Schoenberg articulates the fonn through the selection and use

127Schoenberg, "On My Fiftieth Birthday: September 13, 1924," Style and

Idea, p. 23.
128Schoenberg, "My Technique and Style" (ca. 1950), Style and Idea, p.

110.
129Stuckenschmidt, p. 295.

247
of related set forms - quite "revolutionary," though quite consonant with
Schoenberg's understanding of tonal regions in the old fonns.130

In "Composition with Twelve Tones (1)" (1941), Schoenberg introduces

the following thesis: "The possibilities of evolving the formal elements of music melodies, themes, phrases, motives, figures, and chords - out of a basic set are
unlimited. "131 And he uses an early twelve-tone work, the Wind Quintet, to
illustrate it. This thesis is little concerned with either aesthetic questions of coopting
classical forms for twelve-tone music (or vice versa), or fonnal questions of
structural unity. Beginning with the "simplest" case, "a rhythmization and phrasing
of a basic set and its derivatives" (i.e. I, Rand RI forms), Schoenberg offers a
series of examples showing advanced techniques for achieving variety of themes
and accompaniments all the while keeping in mind the most characteristic features
of the basic set.
Though Schoenberg's general thesis concerns necessity, his local thesis
with respect to specific works concerns creating variety and cultivating possibilities.
Similarly, while composing classical forms dictates certain necessities, the need to
create adequate variety with the musical material requires cultivating new
possibilities. Nowhere does Schoenberg suggest that the Wind Quintet is an
attempt to simulate sonata form, i.e. to create an analog.
130See Ethan Raimo, Schoenber~'s Serial Odyssey, pp. 106-23. Raimo
offers an insightful discussion of Schoenberg's steps toward a solution to a
pressing problem in twelve-tone polyphony: the generation of simultaneities and
lines that lend consistency and cogency to both musical dimensions.
131Schoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 226.

248
Variations

forOrch~

Opus 31 (1926-28)

"Composition With Twelve Tones (1)" (1941)

"Variations for Orchestra; Frankfurt Radio Talk" (1931)132
Schoenberg's assertion concerning the unlimited possibilities of evolving
the formal elements of music out of a basic set. is profoundly resonant with Robert
Musil's dictum that "the principle of art is infInite variation ..." 133

~oth

statements

are reminiscent of Goethe's visionary musings on the Primal ~bm;

The Primal Plant is going to be the strangest creature in the world,
which Nature herself shall envy me. With this model and the key to
it, it will be possible to go on forever inventing plants and know that
their existence is logical; that is to say, if they do not actually exist.
they could, for they are not the shadowy phantoms of a vain
imagination, but possess an inner necessity and truth. 134
Yet the analogy between the Primal Plant and the basic set is a weak one, even if
they are both intended as instruments of inner necessity, and even if they are both
intended to serve as an ultimate point of reference. The Primal Plant. of course, is a
shadowy phantom (no less so than historical necessity) 135 and the ultimate
universality behind the idea of the Primal Plant requires it to be a sine qua non

132Arnold Schoenberg, "Variations for Orchestr!l, Opus 31; Frankfurt

Radio Talk," The Score (July 1960).
133Robert Musil. Gesammelte Werke II, p. 868.
134Goethe, J. W. F. von, The Italian Journey, trans. W.H. Auden and
Elizabeth Mayer (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1970), pp. 310-11.
135See Mario Bunge, Method. Model and Matter (Boston: D. Reidel,
1973), p. 174. This is true at least from the perspective of dynamical and pluralist
materialism. Other ghosts include: "vital force, the disembodied soul, the
archetypal memory and the spirit of nations."

249
which the basic set, as potentially rich as it is in musical relationships, cannot be.
This is nevertheless the metaphysical background of twelve-tone composition, and
undoubtedly a reason why creating a set of variations becomes a serious trial of the
method. Thus its historical status as a watershed in twelve-tone composition arises
not only because of the resultant growth in twelve-tone techniques, but also because
it provides the most direct support for Schoenberg's thesis that sufficient
possibilities can be cultivated through the basic set to create a set of variations.
Indeed, the culminating section of "Composition With Twelve Tones (1)" (1941) as
well as the "Frankfurt Radio Talk" given ten years earlier are devoted to the
Variations for Orchestr~ Opus 31.
Variation inheres in the basic set for Op. 31 which is itself a set of
variations. This becomes clear in the setting of the theme (Ex. 3.1Oa). The
antecedent phrase consists of three melodic gestures, each beginning with a
descending leap varying in magnitude from six to nine semitones: <Bb,E>, <.A,
0>, <0#,8>. It is as if we were watching the shadow cast by a steadily moving
object grow in the late afternoon sun. These three melodic gestures are themselves
developing variations. Taking the three descending intervals which increase in size
as they drift down by semitone as the constraint, one can attempt to extend the
pattern, but according to the diagram (Ex. 3. lOb ) the next interval would most
likely be from <O,G>. Schoenberg's choice of the RI-form for the consequent
phrase concludes on <G>, fulfilling a melodic implicatic:l through twelve-tone
means.

250
Example 3.8
Variations, Op. 31, Theme

Antecedent - Basic Set

Consequent - Retrograde Inversion

, f
,

.J. tJ I JI fr J11 ~~ d I" ~ 'r 'p Ir t.Of! I JII

-1

(-0

-1

'C?:r t~r tt~? W(01jr I

-2

-3

( -4)

After the introduction with its preponderance of tritones, the theme creates a
sense of the elasticity of its elements in a way that lends itself to treatment in a
variation set. Though Schoenberg insists the variations are merely juxtaposed,
there is nevertheless a long range dramatic development. Webem too explored this
possibility in the variation movement of the Symphony, Op. 21, a work also
completed in 1928.
Schoenberg's Radio Talk from (1931) compares the thematic writing of
Brahms' F Major 'Cello Sonata with that of the Op. 31 theme. Two years before
the early version of "Brahms The Progressive" (1933), Schoenberg was already
demonstrating the progressive qualities of irregular phrase lengths and meter,
qualities pervasive in the Op. 31 theme. The lecture continues with a thumbnail
sketch of what happens in each of the sections.

251
An argumentative tone characterizes the whole of "Composition With

Twelve-Tones (1)" (1941). In the midst of the discussion ofOp. 31, Schoenberg
trots out a familiar archetype, that of historians who want "to fit the history of the
present into their preconceived scheme" and who are wont to "exhibit foggy visions
of a future which exists only in their warped imaginations." 136 He mentions only a
Dr. X who claims that Schoenberg does not care for" sound." These barbs
nevertheless lead to an important point brought out earlier with respect to the
catacomb scene of Pelleas: the exploration of sound quality is as much a part of
evolving an unrestricted musical language as new approaches to pitch organization.
Timbre is no less a factor in these variations than the transposition level of
inversional forms of the row.
Having argued the case for variation, Schoenberg returns at the very end of
the essay to underline the point on which he began: "the main advantage of this
method of composing with twelve-tones is its unifying effect." Form, logic and
unity entail one another in Schoenberg's view. Historical necessity, ghost that it is,
is intended to seem palpable in the attainment of unity out of such diversity.

136Schoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 240.

252
Strinll Ouartet No.3, Opus 30 (1927); Violin Concerto, Opus 36 (1934-36);
Strin~ Ouartet No.4, Opus 37 (1936); Piano Concerto, Opus 42 (1942)
"How One Becomes Lonely" (1937)
"Heart and Brain in Music" (1946)
Schoenberg draws examples from each of these works for the essay "Heart
and Brain in Music" (1946), an essay which means to debunk some silly but deeply
entrenched prejudices: 1) that artists should not allow their intellects to intrude into
the pure emotionality and instinctiveness of creativity, and 2) that counterpoint is
"cerebral," while melody is "spontaneous" -- shades of Sixtus Beckmesser and
Walther von Stolzing.l 37 While this conflict reverberates in all quarters of
Wagnerian controversy, Schoenberg seeks resolution by showing how head and
heart coexist, the latter within the domain of the former.
For being excessively cerebral, Schoenberg notes that he was considered a
constructor. This lent to Schoenberg's works, especially the twelve-tone works,
the connotation of a musical technology at work whose great values are reliability
and consistency of product. Schoenberg elevated his method of composition from
its association with machine technology, "to the rank and importance of a scientific
theory," by virtue of its "aesthetic and theoretical support."138 Contributing such
support is in large part the task of "Heart and Brain in Music."

137See Schoenberg, "Constructed Music" (ca. 1931), Style and Idea, p.

106-8. An earlier treatment of cerebral composition.
138Schoenberg, "Twelve-Tone Composition (1)" (1941), Style and Idea, p.
220.

253
Even though the essay makes no overt declaration of the kind of
pronaturalistic historicism Popper decries, according to Popper's view there is an
historicist ideology serving as a subtext for Schoenberg's basic argument: that
expressivity was not sacrificed at the expense of the progress achieved through
twelve-tone composition. Adducing examples from Opp. 4, 7, 9 and 10,
Schoenberg argues conversely that he tried not to sacrifice the progressive aspects
of his style for the sake of expressivity, at least, the conventions of expressivity
accepted in his day.l39 Inasmuch as Schoenberg attempts to address this problem
and foster a sense of continuity between such works as Op. 4 and Ope 30,
Schoenberg's historical consciousness must come to the fore.

Von Heute auf Morzen, Opus 32 (1928).;. Moses und Aron, (1930-32)
"New Music: My Music" (ca. 1930)
"Circular to My Friends on My Sixtieth Birthday: September 13, 1934"
" Art and the Moving Picture" (1940)
"Composition With Twelve Tones (1)" (1941)
"Composition With Twelve Tones (2)" (ca. 1948)
Schoenberg places his two twelve-tone operas - the one, an hour-long
social comedy, and the other, a great work on the theme of the immediacy of the
religious impulse - in very much the same historical light, despite their outward
differences. Indeed, the very different qualities of these works makes
Schoenberg's point all the more: "l have proved in my operas Von Heute auf

139Thls point is illustrated in the earlier essay, "How One Becomes Lonely"
(1937), in which Schoenberg admits that the listener familiar only with VerkUirte
Nacht would be unprepared for the modes of expression operative in the Opp. 30
and 37 quartets.

254
Morgen and Moses und Aeon that every expression and characterization can be
produced with the style of free dissonance." 140 These operas then furnish the
proof of variety, that enough differentiated material can be cultivated from a tone
row that "one could base a whole opera, Moses und Aeon, on one set."141 They
offer proof of unity as well. Concluding the essay "Composition with Twelve
Tones (1)," Schoenberg returns to the little-elaborated thesis of unity mentioned at
the beginning of the essay regarding the "unifying effect" of the method. To make
this point, Schoenberg recalls an anecdote about the rehearsals of Von Heute auf
Morgen during which singers reported that as a consequence of the row becoming
familiar to them, the music became easier.
In "Composition with Twelve Tones (2)" (ca. 1948), Schoenberg suggests
a time frame by which to consider the progress of the method, a time frame
bounded by Die lakobsleiter and Moses und Aeon. The biblical connection lends a
certain appeal to this time frame by drawing together two of Schoenberg's
ostensibly incomplete works and thus lending the method both the religious
immediacy that comes as a result of aspiring to emulate Divine Creation, and the
historical immediacy understood through the concept "inner necessity."

I40Schoenberg, "Composition with Twelve Tones (1)" (1941), Style and

Idea, p. 245.
14IIbid . p. 224.

255
Kammersymphonie No.2. Opus 38 (1939, begun 1906)
"On Revient Toujours" (1948)
"On Revient Toujours" (1948) makes only passing reference to the
Kammersymphonie, Op. 38 in its discussion of Schoenberg's occasions to return
to tonality. It is the historical significance given to the return to tonality which we
take as the main issue here. Schoenberg compares the desire of the masters of
developing variation to assimilate into their compositions contrapuntal styles such
as Palestrina's or Bach's, to his own "longing to return to the older style,"
irrespective of his "destiny" and the "harder road" he was ordered to follow by the
"Supreme Commander." This longing of Schoenberg's attained fruition in works
such as: the Suite for String Orchestra (1934), Kol Nidre, Op. 39 (l938), the
Kammersymphonie No.2, Op. 38 (1939), the Variations for Organ, Op. 40 (1941)
and the Variations for Wind Band, Op. 43a. (1942). In a wider sense, if we
include the efforts that stem from Schoenberg's work for Guido Adler on the
DenkmaIer der Tonkunst in Osterreich and consider this an ancillary branch of
Schoenberg's network of enterprises, then it is clear that Schoenberg's connection
with tonal composition was never dormant long. Around the time of the
GeorgeUeder and Die Gliickliche Hand (Le. 1908-1913) he was realizing figured
basses in the scores of Monn and Tuma. The music extending along this branch
would include: Two Chorale-Preludes by 1.S. Bach (transcriptions for orchestra)
(1922), Prelude and Fugue in E flat Major by 1.S. Bach (transcription for
orchestra) (1928), Three Folksongs (1929), Concerto for 'Cello by G.M. Monn

256
(1932-33), Concerto for Strin& Quartet (after Handel) (1933) and Three Folkson&s,
Op. 49 (1948).1 42
"On Revient Toujours" (1948) and another brief essay, "Turn of Time"
(1948), take the disorderly output of tonal compositions, produced from time to

time since 1908, and shape it using the idea of return to give particular weight to the
time frame 1938-41. Both essays revolve around the idea that history repeats itself,
an idea with an estimable pedigree and a capacity to bestow a kind of stamp of
durability on practices which do return. By 1948 Schoenberg takes this idea as a
simple truism borne out through the turns of his creative output. Two years earlier
the attitude towards cyclical history is more disparaging. Schoenberg ascribes the
wrongheaded use of the catch phrase "New Music" to a cyclical view of history by
showing the false generalization inferred from historical examples of novel practices
emerging amidst established ones. Schoenberg ridiculed the thought that a new
music could periodically be produced by fiat.143 Or in other words,

S~hoenberg

points to the error in historical reasoning which asserts that the thing, "new music,"
must follow the idea, "New Music." Schoenberg in effect replicates Vico's axiom:
142See Egbert Ennulat. ed. and trans., Arnold Schoenber& Correspondence:
A Collection of Translated and Annotated Letters Exchan&ed With Guido Adler.
Pablo Casals. Emanuel Feuermann and Olin Downes (Metuchen, NJ: The
Scarecrow Press, 1991), pp. 278-307. This correspondence provides details on
Schoenberg's work with Guido Adler and the Denkmaler der Tonkunst in
Osterreich. Dr. Max Grafs attack on Schoenberg's continuo realizations
aggravated the controversy over the monumentalist view of history. Indeed,
Schoenberg suspected that Schenker's influence could be found at the heart of
Grafs attack.
143Schoenberg, "New Music, Outmoded Music, Style and Idea" (1946),
Style and Idea, p. 115.

257
"the order of ideas must follow the order of things."l44 We can endeavor to extend
the comparison between the views of Schoenberg and Vico a bit further.
Like Vico, Schoenberg discerns patterns in historical recurrence, but does
not take a fatalistic view of such recurrences. This is the bone of contention
between Schoenberg and Spengler as we saw in chapter one. Exactly at what
moment Schoenberg would return to tonal composition is not foreordained because
there is no predicting the length of the cycle. According to Nathan Rotenstreich's
reading of Vico:
The application of the notion of cyclical recurrences enabled Vico
to point to the existence of systems or configurations within the
historical process which have a kind of stability, expressed in the
fact that they come back in spite of the passing of time in its cosmic
sense.I~5

In spite of We bern's insistence in his 1932 lecture "The Path to Twelve-Note

Composition" that "tonality is dead," its return is evidence of its stability.l46 In a
reciprocal sense, Schoenberg's network of enterprises could sustain branches
supporting tonal projects and not permit them to atrophy.
The corsi and ricorsi of historical cycles have been envisioned differently.

144Giambattisto Vico, "The New Science, " trans. T. C. Bergin and M. H.

Fisch, in Theories of History, ed. Patrick Gardiner (New York: The Free Press,
1959), p. 36.
145Nathan Rotenstreich, Jews and GenTIan Philosophy (New York:
Schocken, 1984), p. 137.
146Anton Webern, The Path To The New Music, ed. Willi Reich (Vienna:
Universal Edition, 1963), p. 47.

258
Collingwood suggests that for Vico history does not repeat itself. 147 Vico's cycles
represent the periodic motion of a spiral, not a circle; each cyclic return is
distinguished through its occurrence in a new context. The image of the spiral
might imply a doctrine of progress, even though there is no such doctrine in Vico's
thought. There is an example in "On Revient Toujours" of what kind of adjustment
is required when the old means return in a new context. Schoenberg, writing
appreciatively of a leisurely ride in an old-fashioned fiacre during an age when
modern nerves can hardly bear to travel so slowly, tries to moderate the obsession
with progress in order to bring out the enduring delight in the aesthetic value of the
older means.
Rotenstreich's image is much more irregular than Collingwood's image of
the spiral. According to his view, there is a return in the cycle of historical phases
to the point of departure which becomes a point of origin for a new process in a
new direction -- in effect "a new beginning." 148 Cycles are so variously shaped by
length and direction, that they only indicate a process of change, but do not pennit
prediction, a conclusion with which Collingwood concurs. Continuing his
discussion of Vico, Rotenstreich speaks of a Spielraum occupied not only by
change, but also by patterns of change and their reappearance. The image of a
reservoir of changes was one congenial to Hegel, and conservative by definition.
Schoenberg is seemingly of two minds, writing in 1931 and 1941 respectively:
141R. G. Collingwood, The Idea of History (Oxford: Oxford University
Press paperback, 1956), p. 68.
148Rotenstreich, p. 136.

259
It is remarkable that my most revolutionary steps (1 always
thought them evolutionary) have never had a destructive effect.
What could be preserved (and what was important could always be
preserved; what had to go was only the incidental. the fashionable) I
always preserved. 149
.. .1 discovered that our sense of form was right when it forced us
to counterbalance extreme emotionality with extraordinary
shortness. Thus, subconsciously, consequences were drawn from
an innovation which, like every innovation. destroys while it
produces. 150
Both of these passages arise from the same grounding idea of necessity. The 1931
passage is from a short article on notation which argues that with the proliferation
of accidentals in new music a composer could either impose a new system or adapt
the procedures of the older system to a new context. He chose the latter as the
proper response to necessity, whereas the former choice had the unfortunate
consequence of painting the composer into a comer - an imposed notation could
become a straitjacket for the evolution of sty Ie. The 1941 essay suggests that
Schoenberg had crossed the Rubicon. Having completed Kol Nidre, Op 39, the
Kammersymphonie No.2, Op. 38, and the Variations for Or~an, Op. 40, he was
embarking on the next cycle of twelve-tone compositions. That innovation can be
destructive is an idea still not alien to the cyclical view in that things can never recur
in their original context.

149Schoenberg, "Revolution - Evolution, Notation (Accidentals)" (1931),

Style and Idei!, p. 353.
150Schoenberg, "Composition With Twelve Tones (1)" (1941) in Style and
Idea, p. 217.

260
The Kammersymphonie No.2, Op. 38, itself a cyclical work, is a product
of cyclical history. [t was begun in August 1906, interrupted according to
Schoenberg by the Georgelieder, then worked on intermittently in 1911 and 1916,
and finally completed during the summer and fall of 1939. As a fragment, and a
rather conservative one as the fragments tend to be, that lay dormant for many years
and eventually completed, it suggests an untestable test case for Vico's thought:
Did the cyclic return entail a new context for composition, or did Schoenberg
merely resume work? What Schoenberg writes about the experience of composing
Moses und Aron is illuminating on this point: ".. .1 hardly recognize what [
composed last year. And if it weren't for a kind of unconscious memory, which
instinctively leads me back to the original train of musical and dramatic thought, I'd
have no idea how the entire thing [Moses und Aronl could have any organic
coherence." lSI One supposes that the completion of the Kammersymphonie, Op.
38 also required a special effort of unconscious memory.
Naturally, it is impossible to know if the piece would have been much
different if completed in 1906 - perhaps a more conventional three-movement form
or a sunnier ending?

151Schoenberg to Alban Berg, 8 August 1931, The Berg-Schoenberg

Correspondence, p. 417.

261

CHAPTER IV
ON THE INTERACITON OF PHANTASY AND
HISTORICAL CONSCIOUSNESS
As products of the interplay between musical imagination and an emerging
historical consciousness, Schoenberg's compositions arise from an unlikely
process of coevolution. Given the view that the outlooks and tasks of historians
and artists are incommensurable, a reconsideration of these same outlooks and tasks
as potentially interactive may be startling. But perhaps this thesis is less startling in
light of Schoenberg's cultural circumstances. Integrating the compositional process
with the process of self-formation (Bildung), Schoenberg consolidated the avenue
to Jewish emancipation with the path of artistic genius. This convergence suggests
the creative selfs protean capacity for "eternal metamorphosis" which requires a
distant future horizon in order to play out its potentialities.' Variations and
possibilities that arise through creative processes necessarily extend the time
horizon and create the sense of a future that is ever emerging, boundless and

'Schoenberg, "Gustav Mahler" (1912, 1948), Style and Idea, p. 468.

262
manifold. Consciousness of the future rests, in Schoenberg's case, on a
developmental understanding of history that is generally expressed through a
narrative that can contextualize a musical composition. Subsequent compositions
may initiate narratives of their own and perhaps only tangentially sustain anyone
narrative. [n order to further the comprehensibility of his works, Schoenberg
endeavored to conform the historical role assignments of his compositions to a
story of development, a practice which demonstrates his historically conscious
cultural orientation. The extent to which the works themselves seem to embody
their historical assignments intimates the extent of the interplay between the musical

and historical imaginations.

To see how theories of history might elucidate musical relationships, we
must demonstrate the ways in which the musical and historical imaginations can be
said to be closely related, especially in terms of the German-Jewish tradition in
which Schoenberg's creative enterprise evolved. We shall consider six distinct
ways in which the musical and historical imaginations interact by addressing: 1)
the common task of the artist and the historian, how each presents an idea; 2) time

and memory as concerns shared by the historian and musician, how each makes the
idea memorable; 3) variation, change, novelty and the concept of evolution as a
general template for change over time, how each develops the idea; 4) metaphor
and association in both music and history, how the idea acquires resonance; 5) the
representation of an event through music and history, how the idea acquires form,
and 6) the transmission of tradition through music, how the idea lives.

263
In discussing these points, the role of memory as the nexus between
historical consciousness and musical creativity will emerge again and again, not as a
faculty for information storage analogous to a computer's memory, but as a faculty
which functions in a completely human, biologically-based sense. Consideration of
memory and the mind follows inevitably from Schoenberg's comments which recur
throughout the span of his essay writing. These comments concern: the
imagination, the strengthening of the mind, the evolution of perception, and the
interpenetration and multiplicity of simultaneous emotional states. To define
Schoenberg's view we shall compare it with the views of others who have thought
about the triad of art, history and mind: Humboldt, Bergson and Croce, as well as
contemporary thinkers such as Edelman and Lakoff who are indebted to these

predecessors. A remarkable consistency and continuity emerges among these

writers. In addition. D'Arcy Thompson's ideas about variation are considered for
their closeness to Schoenberg's, and their ability to bring the concept of variation to
life in a unique way. Views expressed by Daniel Dennett and Richard Dawkins are
discussed for their provocative application of Darwinism to the world of culture, an
application which hinges on a genetic model of cultural transmission.

I
The Common Task: On Humboldt's "On the Historian's Task." Any
commonality between the respective tasks of the artist and the historian first resides
in the process of self-formation, Bildun~, which Humboldt places at the heart of
both his theory of history and his aesthetics. An individual aspires to realize the

264
educational ideal of Bildung through a unique process of self-formation. Models
exterior to an individual cannot impose themselves as sources for the developing
self. but rather the self must discover and cultivate its own innate qualities.
According to Moses Mendelssohn, a nation in its own way may achieve its selfformation through Bildung, through the dual perspectives of Kultur (man's eye)
and AufkHirung (God's eye).2 Seeking to bring the interests of the individual and
state into balance in the citizen. Wilhelm von Humboldt (1767-1835), during a brief
but influential tenure as Prussian Minister of Education (ca. 1809), helped make
Bildung the guiding idea behind practical educational reform. We are speaking here
of Bildung which was conceptualized during the early German enlightenment as
secular, self-referential and organicist. As grounded in the vitalism of the
Enlightenment. the concept of Bildung also bears on Humboldt's philosophy of art
and philosophy of history which are expressed together in the 1821 essay, "On the
Historian's Task," an essay. according to Croce, abounding in the ideas integral to
the development of historicism) What is remarkable is the fidelity with which
Schoenberg reproduces Humboldt's philosophy of history and translates it into the

2David Sorkin, The Transformation of German Jewry. 1780-1840

(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), p. 72.
3Wilhelm von Humboldt, "Uber die Auf~abe des Geschichtschreibers,"
Abhandlungen der Historisch-Philosophischen KIasse der Koniglichen
Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften aus den Jahren 1820-21 (Berlin, 1822)
translated as "On the Historian's Task," History and Theory 6 (1967): 57-71.

265
tenns of aesthetics.4 German-Jewry's adoption of Bildung as a revitalizing secular
religion and instrument of emancipation represented a ready avenue for the
transmission of Humboldt's thought. Growing up in Vienna's largely Jewish
Leopoldstadt. Schoenberg was educated and acculturated into a community which
had become enamored of the secular idea of Bildung.5
Humboldt begins the essay with a conventional view: "The historian's task
is to present what actually happened."6 Compared to the artist who similarly faces
a task of presentation. the historian "seems to be merely receptive and reproductive,
not himself active and creative."7 But the artifacts of an event, the empirical
evidence whether abundant or scant, cannot represent an event on their own:
"...observation can perceive circumstances which either accompany or follow one

4See Adolph Bernhard Marx. Die Lehre von der musikalischen

Komposition, praktisch-theoretisch, zum Selbstunterricht... (Leipzig: Breitkopf
und Hanel, 1837). In no small measure the conduit for this transmission is the
work of Adolf Bernhard Marx (1795-1866) a Jewish protege of Humboldt's.
Upon Mendelssohn's recommendation, Marx was appointed professor of music at
the University of Berlin in 1830, the school founded by Humboldt in 1809.
5See David Sorkin, The Transformation of German Jewry, 1780-1840
(Oxford, 1987), pp.31-34. Ironically, according to Humboldt's "Constitution for
Prussian Jewry," the state, as a legal entity, should immediately recognize Jews on
the basis of natural rights as individuals, citizens and human beings. However, a
gradual approach to Jewish emancipation prevailed that would be managed through
educational refonn. As the core of educational policy, the state institutionalized
Bildun~ as set forth by Humboldt. This was part of an overall effort to revitalize a
defeated Prussian society in the wake of Napoleon's 1806 victory at lena.
6Wilhelm von Humboldt, "On the Historian's Task," HistOlY and Theory 6
(1967): 57.
7Ibid., p. 57.

266
another, but not their inner causal nexus ..."8 Imagination is the faculty by which
shards of evidence may coalesce to form a coherent representation of an event.
While admitting one should be circumspect about allowing "the field of the historian
[to] touch that of the poet at even one point," Humboldt argues that the historian's
imagination is never given free rein, but is constrained by the "experience and the
investigation ofreality."9 This "subordination" of the imagination which inhibits
"pure fantasy," Humboldt calls "intuitive faculty or connective ability."10 Of the
varieties of intuition we have discussed in previous chapte~s, this comes closest to
Goethe's since empirical rigor is primary for both. Humboldt then states the
difference between the tasks of the historian and the artist:
The historian must therefore seek the necessity of events; he must
not, like the poet, merely impose on his material the appearance of
necessity; rather, he must keep constantly in mind the ideas which
are the laws of necessity, because only by being steeped in them can
he find evidence of them in any pure inquiry into the real in its
reality.
The historian has all the strands of temporal activity and all the
expressions of eternal ideas as his province. The whole of existence
is, more or less directly, the object of his endeavors, and thus he
must pursue all the manifestations of the mind. II
By imposing the appearance of necessity, the poet is engaged in cultivating
possibilities. Art achieves the appearance of necessity when it manipulates nature

8Ibid., p. 58.
9Ibid.
IOIbid., pp. 58-59.
II Ibid., p. 59.

267
"so that everything in the created work appears to be taken from nature although
nothing exactly like it actually exists."12 History operates in the "sense of
reality."13 In its deepest sense. history while recognizing "seeming" contingency in
the flux of time-bound circumstance-driven events, must recognize that: "there is
the consciousness of spiritual freedom and the recognition of reason. so that reality,
despite its seeming contingency, is nevertheless bound by an inner necessity."14 A
century after Humboldt instructed the historian to assimilate the idea of constraints
between the imagination and the material from the artist. as if in reciprocation,
modem artists went beyond appearance and assimilated inner necessity into the
aesthetics of musical composition and art from the historian. This cross-fertilization
between art and history is resonant among Schoenberg's criteria for the evaluation
of art. where aesthetic judgment hinges on the notion of inner necessity: "Was he
[the artist] able to prove the necessity of the work -- that it was forced upon him by
an inner urge for creation'?" IS
Humboldt draws the connection between art and history a notch closer by

12Ibid. p. 60.
13Ibid.
14Ibid.
IS"Criteria for the Evaluation of Music" (1946), Style and Idea, p. 133.

268
viewing the reality of human events within the world of nature. Here he agrees
with Moses Mendelssohn. in whose view there was a continuum between the state
of nature and the civil state. 16 Humboldt writes:
An historical presentation. like an artistic presentation, is an
imitation of nature. The basis of both is the recognition of the true
fonn, the discovery of the necessary, the elimination of the
accidental. We must, therefore, not disdain to apply the more
readily recognizable method of the artist to an understanding of the
more dubious method employed by the historian. 17
Historical and artistic presentations both emulate organic forms. not on the basis of
outward appearances. but "from within. based on antecedent study of the way in
which the outward shape emerges from the idea and structure of the whole and by
abstracting from the proportions of the outward shape."IS Though Humboldt's use
of the word "idea" is reminiscent of nineteenth-century metaphysics or might be
construed as an occult notion, Peter Hanns Reill points out that Humboldt had
considerable scientific training in anatomy and physiology; he dissected numerous
cadavers. an endeavor which he would carry on with "zeal."19 The "idea" then, is

16Nathan Rotenstreich. Jews and Gennan Philosophy. p. 58. See R. G.

Collingwood, The Idea of History (Oxford. 1956), p. 190. Rotenstreich elaborates
Mendelssohn's and Humboldt's difference with Kant on this point. It is a point of
difference with Collingwood too.
17Humboldt, "On the Task of the Historian," p. 61.
ISlbid . p. 61.
19Peter Hanns Reill, "Science and the Construction of the Cultural Sciences
in Late Enlightenment Germany: The Case of Wilhelm von Humboldt." History
and Theory 33 (1994): 355.

269
neither a thought nor a concept. Nor is it occult, even if hidden from direct
perception. Reill explains it this way:
... the Idee is a fonnative force shaping matter according to a
given type. This definition approximates that evolved by Schiller in
his first medical dissertation dealing with "material ideas" and is
extremely close to Marcus Herz's definition of a material idea. Both
considered an idea (they considered all ideas as material because of
their origins in sensation) as an acquired force that shapes matter.20
By analogy" all history is the realization of an idea" (e.g. the idea of national
individuality in Greece), just as music is the realization of the musical idea. The
historian's task is "the presentation of the struggle of an idea to realize itself in
actuality."21 Closely allied is the composer's task which is the presentation of the
material-shaping idea which realizes its particular tendencies in musical fonn.
Schoenberg struggled to set forth his own view of the musical idea. Given
the tradition which entailed both materiality and indirect perceptibility, and the
tension between Enlightenment and Romanticist frameworks, Schoenberg faced a
daunting task trying to explain the musikalische Gedanke with clarity. The
common ground between art and history lies in the idea, and the common task lies
in the presentation of the idea: both entail problems of presentation and both require
intuitive faculties. Music and history are especially close in striving toward the

20Ibid., pp. 363-4.

21 Humboldt, "On the Task of the Historian," p. 70.

270
realization of inner necessity through time-shaping forces that bear on the fonn of
the presentation. 22
Robert Musil was well aware of Wilhelm von Humboldt's thought. He
appreciated its optimism and its balanced view of the relationship between history
and the individual. In "The Serious Writer in Our Time" (1934), Musil's remarks
about Humboldt brighten an otherwise grim picture:
Wilhelm von Humboldt characterized significant individuality as
a power of the spirit that springs up without reference to the course
of events and begins a new series. He saw nodal points and points
of origin in creative people who absorb past things and release them
in a new form that can no longer be traced back past their point of
origin.
This picture is individualistic in nature, but it also places this
individualism entirely within the totality. [would hope and assume
that the truth it contains, applied in appropriate form and to purely
intellectual endeavors, will become effective a second time in the
course of European development!23
Yet this agreement with Humboldt's century-old philosophy which brings together
the themes of individual education and history does not keep Musil from
counterpoints and variations on the "idea" as the shaping force of history nor to the
imputation of rationality to that idea. These counterpoints and variations permeate
Musil's novel, The Man Without Oualities, and constitute its chief irony: that while
a distinguished committee is attempting to articulate the great innate shaping force or

22See P. Murray Dineen, "From the Gerald Strang Bequest at the Arnold
Schoenberg Institute: Documents of a Teaching," Theory and Practice 18 (1993):
110-11. Dineen notes in Schoenberg's teaching the dynamic and peculiar nature of
musical "forming," as opposed to notions of form as a template or mold.
23Robert Musil, "The Serious Writer in Our Time," Precision and Soul, p.
261.

271

idea of the Austrian nation in 1913, events are happening that seem to defy the
guidance of a rationality. In the view of Musil's character Dr. Paul Arnheim, a
Prussian-Iewish philosopher and second-generation industrialist (Amheim is based
on Walter Rathenau (1886-1922)) there is an indirectJy perceiVable unity to the
"patchwork" of events. Amheim's rhetoric reveals a deep ambivalence while he is
tantalized by the effort to articulate a great idea from an intuitive source:
What does all our science signify... ? Patchwork! Or our art?
Extremities without a body to unite them! Our minds lack the secret
of integrity, and that, you see, is why I am so moved by this
Austrian plan to bestow an all-uniting example and a great
communal idea upon the world. even if I do not think it entirely
feasible.
It is just the same with billiards - everything goes wrong if one tries
to do it according to calculation instead of by feeling ...Politics,
honour, war. art, all the decisive processes in life, are completed
outside the scope of the conscious intelligence. All man's greatness
has its roots in the irrational.24
Only Amheim's public persona is unconditionally committed to the "idea" in its
most Hegelian formulation as the rationality of actuality. Musil's central character,
Ulrich, gives free rein to his Socratic tendencies in his first exchange with Amheim,
and coerces Amheim into stating the Hegelian view in a public setting:
... Supposing, for instance, the composer of the latest operetta
with world-wide success were a conspirator and suddenly set
himself up as president of the world. which. considering his
enormous popularity, was quite within the bounds of possibility would this be a great leap in history or an expression of the general
state of mind?
"That is quite impossible!" Herr Dr. Amheim said earnestly.
"Such a composer cannot be either a conspirator or a politician. If

24Robert Musil, The Man Without Qualities, vol. 2, pp. 330-1.

272
he were. his genius for light music would be unthinkable. And
nothing irrational happens in the history of the world."
"But so much does in the world surely?"
"In the history of the world never. "25
Many of Musil's characters express some sort of philosophy of history, but the
interplay of the rational and irrational through time, as well as the balancing of
precision and passion in essayistic writing is a pervasive theme in Musil's work.
And this already intimates the interaction between historical consciousness and the
imagination.
Both in the 1923 essay "The German as Symptom" and in the chapter "The
Like of It Happens. or, Why Does One Not Invent History?" Musil disparages a
deterministic view of how individuals are shaped for a symbiotic one prescient with
ideas we associate nowadays with theories of chaos or catastrophe:
The path of history is in fact not that of a billiard ball, which, once
struck, follows a predictable course, but resembles rather the path of
a cloud, which also follows the laws of physics but is equally
influenced by something that can only be called a coinciding of facts
.. .It is the same when a person wanders through the streets,
attracted here by shadows, there by a group, further on by a strange
profiling of faces; when another person" accidentally" crosses his
path and tells him something that leads him to decide on a specific
route -- and he finds himself at last at a point he neither knows nor
wanted to get to: every step of this route also occurred out of
necessity, but the sequence of these individual necessities has no
coherence. That [ suddenly stand where I am is a fact, a result, and
if one call it necessary, because in the last analysis everything has its
causes, then this bears the character of preserving something in the

25Robert Musil, The Man Without Qualities, vol. 1, p. 203.

273
name of causality; but it is quite useless, since we will never be able
to make good on it. 26
This passage of Musil's proclaims causality "useless" in the domain of history, and
thus represents a return to Humboldt. Causes do not reside within events whether
these causes are adjudged accidental or deliberate. As Koselleck puts it, "history
surpasses all causes."27 History means new history, in very much the same sense
that art means new art: 28 both are singular, entail new modes of experience and
color our sense of where we stand with respect to both the past and future. The
task of the historian and the artist converge upon the comprehensible presentation of
the new. But this leaves us on an unresolved note: how does the idea, the inner
causal nexus endure. when time is experienced as continuous transition?

26Roben Musil, Precision and Soul, p. 169. See also Anton Webem, The
Path To The New Music, ed. Willi Reich (Vienna: Universal Edition, 1963), p.
48. Webem's analogy for modulation runs similarly: "I go out into the hall to
knock in a nail. On my way there I decide I'd rather go out. I act on the impulse,
get into a tram. come to a railway station, go on traveling and finally end up - in
America! That's modulation!" (4 February 1933) Ending up in America suggests
irrevocability. Tonality could be extended only so far without breaking its neck.
Indeed, Schoenberg sailed for America on October 25, 1933 as an emigre leaving
for good, and not as an exile hoping to return.

27Reinhart Koselleck, Futures Past: On the Semantics of Historical Time,

trans. Keith Tribe (Cambridge: The MIT Press, 1985), p. 127.
28Schoenberg. "New Music, Outmoded Music, Style and Idea" (1946),
Style and Idea, p. 115.

274
II
Time and Memory. The new challenges our sense of continuity and
stability, and holds implications for our experience of historical time and historical
memory. To lay the groundwork, Koselleck discusses five ways in which the
understanding and experience of the new in history, since the middle of the
eighteenth century, have come to denote the concept of neue Zeit. 29 They are worth
recounting here briefly; the fourth and fifth points are of special relevance.
I) "There is a certain distance. however. from which we can only detect the

spirit (Geist) of the century. "30 This remark of Schoenberg's bespeaks Koselleck's
first point, that given sufficient distance, a definite historical meaning attaches itself
to each century. The "Century of Enlightenment" upon reflection is distinct from
"The Century of Louis XIV" as a "composed unity" that unfolds in time according
to its inborn measure. Centuries become the largest general units of historical
periodization within which the historian nests more specific kinds of periodization.
Upon Beethoven's death, a periodization hypothesis played so large and persistent
a role in his biography, that it almost appeared to be an end in itself) 1
Periodization from an overview of Beethoven's life defines stylistic stability. Close
inspection compels the biographer to acknowledge that many styles were expressed

29Reinhart Koselleck, Futures Past, pp. 246-53.

30Schoenberg, Theory of Harmony, p. 411.
31 Maynard Solomon, "The Creative Periods of Beethoven," Beethoven
Essays (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988), pp. 116-25.

275
within a particular period with some ideas, not yet ripe, coming to realization during
a later period. In contrast, periodization in Schoenberg accents transition
emblematic of a shift in the experience of history and creativity. But regardless of
the character of a period, whether stable or transitional, periodization adapts
historical time to a human scale. In the shift to a human time scale, one is left with
a poor man's version of omniscience that lacks both the resolving power needed for
fine detail and the overall breadth of view to make out the long-range workings of
Providence. About historical omniscience Schoenberg writes: "... their bird's-eye
view means they see the facts in the blurred way demanded by historical insight,
whereas in the bright light of the present day, events blind their eyes ... "32 The
remark is reminiscent of Nietzsche's critique of historians. But whether the
historian is blind because of the blinding light of the "present day" as Schoenberg
says, or is blind because the light of the past does not throw itself forward, as de
Tocqueville says, is arguable. At best what little light there is, is highly refracted
given the effects of hyper-eventfulness upon the experience of the present.
2) [f one looks at Beethoven's or Schoenberg's works and determines that

within a stylistic period there coexist "anticipatory" and "archaic" elements,33 then
one gets the thrust of Koselleck's second point: the noncontemporaneity of the
simultaneous. This is an understanding of the manifold nature of time, and means
that the eighteenth-century view of America from Europe was not just a look at a

32Schoenberg, "Musical Historians" (ca. 1915), Style and Idea, p. 202.

33Maynard Solomon, Beethoven Essays, pp. 119, 122.

276
less civilized place, but an actual glance into the past. To live in a different place
could be tantamount to living in a different time. Intellectuals like D'Alembert and
Diderot championed men who were relatively ahead of their time in a rush to speed
up enlightenment. Already there is a palpable hunger for the new in a present
running on several time scales. There is also a parallel between
noncontemporaneous simultaneity as characteristic not only of a manifold present,
but of an individual's emotional life and how that might be represented.
3) Schoenberg himself makes Koselleck's third point with this rather well-

known remark:
Analysts of my music will have to realize how much I personally
owe to Mozart. People who looked unbelievingly at me, thinking I
made a poor joke, will now understand why I called myself a 'pupil
of Mozart: must now understand my reasons. This will not help
them to appreciate my music, but to understand Mozart.34
The new becomes a source for an unexpected perspective on the old. What might
have previously received only scant notice, gains historical interest in a new
context. Mozart's phrase structure in light of musical prose -- Schoenberg's
concept for the liberation of music from time-consuming symmetrical repetitions suddenly manifests the dramatic asymmetry and heterogeneity within tonal
constraints that is characteristic of Schoenberg's "new" melodic style. But to return
to Koselleck's point, Mozart, as refracted through Schoenberg's perspective, can
be as valid as Mozart in the light of another view from another time. History
thereby attains a creative dimension in that each new generation can study the past

34Schoenberg, "Brahms the Progressive" (1946), Style and Idea, p. 414.

277
anew)5 Although the present is privileged in its comprehensive view of the past.
the present must reexamine itself in light of future expectation. So like the past. the
present is under constant revision and thereby attains the character of continuous
transition.
4) Koselleck's fourth point pertains to transition, the pace of history and the

experience of historical time. Historical time is an experience of continuous

transition. The pace of historical time came to be understood in terms of the
principles of acceleration)6 It is surprising to find this modern view expressed by
Humboldt so early in the nineteenth century:
.,. whoever compares even superficially the present state of affairs
with those of fifteen to twenty years ago will not deny that there
prevails within this period greater dissimilarity than that which ruled
within a period twice as long at the beginning of this century.37
Robert Musil accents the indirection as well as the acceleration of eventfulness, and
thought readers would be surprised to find this characteristic of a story set just prior
to the First World War:

35Koselleck. Futures Past, p. 248. See also Joseph B. Soloveitchik.

Halakhic Man (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 1983), p. 115. It is
worth noting that during a time when historical relativism has a certain
fashionability, Koselleck's are all late-eighteenth-century sources. Soloveitchik
also adopts a revisionary stance as fundamental to creativity: "The future imprints
its stamp on the past and determines its image."
36Henry Adams, The Education of Hemy Adams, pp. 489 ff. Henry
Adams raised the observed acceleration of historical events to the status of law at
the turn of the twentieth century.
31Wilhelm von Humboldt, "Das achtzehnte lahrhundert," in Werke 1:398,
cited by Reinhart Koselleck. Futures Past: On the Semantics of Historical Time,
trans. Keith Tribe (Cambridge: The MIT Press, 1985), p. 252.

278
Time was on the move. People not yet born then will find it hard to
believe, but even then time was racing along like a cavalry camel,
just like today. But nobody knew where time was headed. And it
was not always clear what was up or down, what was going
forward or backward.3 8
In a misbegotten essay from 1933, Gottfried Benn also suggested the sense of
accelerated evolution, but unlike Musil, proposed a direction to history, one pointed
toward fascism, a proposal he was to retract not long afterward:
But I am positive, and others agree with me, that all the genuine
Expressionists of my generation experienced what I have
experienced: precisely they out of the chaos of their life and times
experienced an evolution subject to the most urgent inner necessity
not given to other generations, an evolution toward a new order and
new historical meaning)9
Darwin too had a hypothesis of continuous transition only the rate of
transition was not accelerating, but proceeded more or less uniformly.
Evolutionary thinking which sees nature producing continuous gradual change
irrespective of intrusive events did not follow evolutionary thinking about history
which sees change produced by the quickening pace of punctuating events.
Frederick Teggart who among others argued with Darwin's insistence that nature
never makes leaps warned that: "The scientific study of human history cannot
accept Darwin's assumption and procedure as a model upon which to pattern his

38Musil, The Man Without Qualities, vol. 1, p. 7.

39Gottfried Benn, "The Confession of an Expressionist" (1933), Voices of
Expressionism, ed. Victor Miesel (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1970), p.
199. In accompanying remarks (p. 190), Miesel quotes Benn's recantation: "What
I wrote in the introduction to Expressionism was written last year [1933], when I
was still filled with faith, love, and hope. Today I most certainly would not have
written it! Today I would write: Caesar's yap and a troglodyte's brain."

279
inquiry."40 Teggan finds a useful alternative in Julian Huxley's more eventsoriented view that pennits occasional leaps. Allowing events into evolution. as
Teggan points out, allows for one particular event, the Creation. shunned by
evolutionists. In this light, we can see the tensions within Schoenberg's ostensibly
gradualist essay "My Evolution" (1949) which attempts to assert an orderly series
of fOnTIS while admitting occasional accidental events (e.g. the twelve-tone Scherzo
theme). When Franz Marc described his reaction to the premiere of Schoenberg's
Three Piano Pieces, Op. 11 as a "jolt," he was expressing an aesthetic reaction to
this sense of a seminal event of accelerated evolution. 41 Schoenberg expressed the
acceleration not so much as a speeding up, but as a matter of concision and
concentration, using less and less time to present an ever more concentrated form of
an idea.
5) "Your gaze is so fixed on the future that you can no longer see the past,
indeed. perhaps no longer the present."42 Berg's letter to Schoenberg reflects
Koselleck's fifth point concerning the evanescent quality of the present. It is a
theme of Kafka's two opponents and Kraus's "Two Runners" in which a tenuous

40Frederick J. Teggart. Theory and Processes of History (Los Angeles:

University of California Press, 1977), pp. 294-5. Quoted from The Processes of
History (1918).
41 Victor

Miesel, ed., Voices of Expressionism, p. 67.

42The Berg-Schoenberg Correspondence, eds. Julianne Brand, Christopher

Hailey, Donald Harris (New York: W. W. Norton, 1987), p. 61.

280
present becomes a battlefield between past and future. 43 Schoenberg's Piano Suite,
Op. 25 assembled from antique baroque forms and futuristic tone rows locates an
obscured present in the struggle between past and future. The present had given
way foundering between experiences of the past discontinuous with the present,
and expectations for the future with no predictive value. Koselleck remarks: "One
could no longer rely on the conviction of an eyewitness to establish which events
would maUer, or which would have an impact."44 History of one's own time was
in a way inaccessible, and consequently, one's consciousness of time-situatedness
became a matter of increasing anxiety.
The intrusion of the new denies any fixed historical reality, much less the
perspective of an omniscient author. It is no accident that an ocularcentric
omniscience prevails in the language of the points summarized above. Martin Jay's
study Downcast Eyes connects Koselleck's points with the prevalence of
ocularcentrism in history.4s The plurality of histories captures an event as if
through a series of photographs which have the effect of spatializing time in a way
unnatural to memory, thus, to paraphrase Koselleck, robbing "the annalistic

43Franz Kafka, "Er." Quoted and trans. by Hannah Arendt, Between Past
and Future (New York: The Viking Press, 1961), p. 7. Karl Kraus, "Two
Runners," quoted in Edward Timms, Karl Kraus: Apocalyptic Satirist (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1986), pp. 232-3.
44Reinhart Koselleck, Futures Past, p. 254.

4SManin Jay, Downcast Eyes: The Denigration of Vision in TwentiethCentury French Thought (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993), p. 198.

28l
'onward-writing'" of the event of its "certainty" or continuity.46 Ocularcentrism
was the wrong mode for what the intrusion of the new had wrought. Jay brings
Bergson's thought to bear on the question of the experience of history. Bergson
abhors the "domination of the eye" and abandons that perspective which sees
history only in the past perfect tense for a theory of consciousness dominated by the
other senses especially hearing. 47 Although, as Collingwood notes, Bergson never
formulated a theory of history based on his understanding of consciousness, this
theory of consciousness nevertheless offers a fantastic insight into the way in which
consciousness sustains the past in the present by analogy with musical experience.
Henri Bergson's thought on consciousness runs along lines similar to that of
William James. James favored the metaphor "stream of consciousness" as opposed
to the "train" or "chain" preferred by the atomistic associationists. Bergson, like
James, opposed the atomistic associationists, but his metaphor of choice was
music, a choice with a real advantage. Knowing a great deal about consciousness
does not enhance our understanding of streams, but it does enhance our
understanding of music. Schoenberg owned a complete set of Bergson in which he
marked passages here and there on key points. In a lucid summary of Bergson's
philosophy of history, R. G. Collingwood capitalizes on the connection between
mind and music:
This life is a succession of mental states, but it is a succession in
a very special sense of the word. One state does not follow another,
46Koselleck, Futures Past, p. 254.
47Jay, Downcast Eyes, p. 198.

282
for one does not cease to exist when the next begins; they
interpenetrate one another, the past living on in the present, fused
with it, and present in the sense that it confers upon it a peculiar
quality derived from the fact of the fusion. For example, in listening
to a tune we do not experience the different notes separately: the
way in which we hear each note, the state of mind which is the
hearing of that note, is affected by the way in which we heard the
last and, indeed, all the previous ones. The total experience of
hearing the tune is thus a progressive and irreversible series of
experiences which telescope into one another; it is therefore not
many experiences, but one experience, organized in a peculiar way.
The way in which it is organized is time, and this in fact is just what
time is: it is a manifold of parts which, unlike those of space,
interpenetrate one another, the present including the past. This
temporal organization is peculiar to consciousness, and is the
foundation of freedom: for, because the present contains the past in
itself the present is not determined by the past as something external
to it, a cause of which it is the effect: the present is a free and living
activity which embraces and sustains its own past by its own act.48
So what is it that Bergson's metaphor tells us about music? Since music is a
product of the mind, Bergson describes its special order:
We say of astronomical phenomena that they manifest an
admirable order, meaning by this that they can be foreseen
mathematically. And we find an order no less admirable in a
symphony of Beethoven, which is genius, originality, and therefore
unforeseeability itself.49
This says much about both the musical composition and the composition of the
mind; both are individual, creative, and evolving, and both are subject to special
constraints to achieve their form. Does music bear the stamp of the interactive
environment in which it was minted?

48R.G. Collingwood, The Idea of History (London: Oxford University

Press, 1956), p. 187.
49Henri Bergson, Creative Evolution, trans. Arthur Mitchell (New York:
Henry Holt, 1911), p. 224.

283
Memory is a creative faculty in Bergson's understanding; if consciousness
acts

~reely

with respect to memory. then memory draws on and shapes an

understanding of the past without immobilizing it. Bergson's view of

consciousness finds a basis in biology through the research of Gerald M.
Edelman50 who is also interested in how the present sustains the past in such a way
that a "memory almost never appears completely unchanged."51 This is rather
important as we recall from Schoenberg's essay "Opinion or Insight" (1926);
Schoenberg was not only concerned with the laws of sound. upon which tonality

50Gerald M. Edelman. The Remembered Present (New York: Basic

Books. 1989). p. 242. Edelman's Theory of Neuronal Group Selection (TNGS)
assumes that Darwin's theory of evolution and twentieth-century physics quantum field theory. relativity theory and statistical mechanics - accurately
represent the structure of the world. Below is Edelman's most concise statement on
the theory of neuronal group selection:
The TNGS makes the following three proposals. (1) During
development. dynamic processes of morphogenesis lead selectively
to the formation of anatomy specific for a species but obligatorily
possessing enormous anatomical variation at its fmest levels and
ramifications. A population of groups of neurons in a given brain
region. consisting of variant neural networks arising by such
processes of somatic selection. is known as a primary repertoire.
(2) During behavior. and as a result of neural signaling. a second
means of selection occurs -- without alteration of anatomy. various
synaptic connections are selectively strengthened or weakened to
give a secondary repertoire consisting of variant functioning neural
circuits. (3) As a result of evolution and through interaction
between sensory and motor systems. many of these repertoires are
arranged in maps. Such maps are connected by parallel and
reciprocal connections that provide the basis of the third tenet of the
theory -- the occurrence of reentrant signaling. As a result of input
from the environment and phasic reentrant signaling during
behavior. some groups in local maps are competitively selected over
others.
51Ibid. p. 112.

284
finds its basis, but upon the laws that govern "the working of our minds. "52 It is
not our place here to delve into the intricacies of Edelman's theory of neuronal
group selection, but a few of the theory's points should be recited: 1) "what all
memory systems have in common is evolution and selection, 2) "memory [heredity,
immune response. learning, consciousness, etc.] is an essential property of
adaptive systems," and 3) "memory is the key element in consciousness, which is
bound up with continuity and different time scales." S3 This third point in particular
is reminiscent of Bergson by indicating the importance of memory for an adequate
sense of a present and future not just a past.54 Moreover it acknowledges as a
feature of consciousness the manifold experience of time.
The task of the historian is greatly complicated by the intrusion of the new
as the primary experience of history. Humboldt tells the historian to seek an inner
causal nexus to events which refuse to stand still. Bergson restores a kind of
stability by providing a framework that does not require the event to stand still, but
allows it to be understood as part of a dynamic process sustained by memory. And
while Schoenberg composed music that posed startling challenges to memory, he
understood that memorability should not be predicated on repetition.

S2Schoenberg, Style and Idea, p. 259.

s3Geraid M. Edelman, Bright Air. Brilliant Fire (New York: Basic Books,
1992), pp. 167,204.
S4Schoenberg, "About Music Criticism" (1909), Style and Idea, p. 195.
Schoenberg emphasizes what the listener brings to the work in receptivity and
imagination: "One must have a sense of the past and an intuition of the future."

285
Comprehensibility was a matter of how music engaged memory, and thus the
development of memory is key to the mind's evolving receptivity to music.

III
Variation and memol)'. Artifacts, as Humboldt said, may indicate the
succession or simultaneity of events, but they cannot provide the "inner causal
nexus" of an event without the historian's imagination. Naturalists confront
special classes of historical products -- animals, plants, fossils - which are,
respective of species, related by variation. Variation and selection are together the
cornerstone of evolutionary theory. The principle of variation and selection has
been proposed as the dynamic not only responsible for the diversity of life, but also
for the growth of knowledge, the fonnation of our minds and the creative processes
of art. 55 To what extent evolutionary theory might constitute a general explanation
for how things change over time is hotly contested. Either variations exist and
transfonnation is relatively sudden and rare, or variations exist and transformation

55For current Darwinian views on diversity see Niles Eldredge, Reinventin~

Darwin: The Great Debate At The Hi~h Table of Evolutionary Theol)' (New York:
1995). For a Darwinian approach to the growth of knowledge and the evolution of
disciplines see Gerald Radnitzky and W. W. Bartley, III, eds., Evolutionary
Epistemolo&y, Theory of Rationality, and the Sociolo&y of Knowled~e (LaSalle:
Open Court, 1987) and Stephen Toulmin, Human Understandin~: The Collective
Use and Evolution of Concepts (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987).
For "neural Darwinism" see Gerald M. Edelman, Bri~ht Air. Brilliant Fire (New
York: Basic Books, 1992). For a Darwinian approach to creative enterprises see
Howard Gruber and Doris Wallace, eds., Creative People at Work (Oxford:
Oxford University Press 1989).

286
is continuous and incremental.56 Either way these studies of change over time are
apt to give rise to narratives that assert purposiveness to change - the inner causal
nexus, as it were.57 The question is: how does variational activity, which is not
necessarily directional in itself, come to appear to be a developmental activity that
can entail a narrative? This is a key question for natural scientists and captures the
same paradox Schoenberg's notion of developing variation captures in music. New
history and new music exacerbate the problem through the experience of time as
continuous and precipitous transition. According to Schoenberg's "Why New
Music Is Difficult to Understand" (quoted in chapter one), extreme forms of
variation and transformation militate against a clear sense of development in which
intermediary forms would be available to mitigate an apparently elliptical musical
logic.
Variation is a principle Schoenberg consistently stresses in that it teaches the
listener to recognize basic relationships between forms at the level of motive, phrase
or "larger basic unit." And variation conveys the sense of a dynamic creative
56See Stephen Jay Gould, "Is a New and General Theory of Evolution
Emerging?" Paleobiolol:Y 6 ( 1), (1980): 119-30. Cf. Richard Dawkins, The Blind
Watchmaker: Why the Evidence of Evolution Reveals a Universe Without Desi~
(New York: W. W. Norton and Co., 1987). Gould presents the "theory of
punctuated equilibria" which holds economic fitness paramount and the key to
change. Dawkins presents "the modern synthesis," which holds reproductive
success as the key.
57See Stephen Jay Gould and Richard Lewontin, "The Spandrels of San
Marco and the Panglossian Paradigm: A Critique of the Adaptationist Programme,"
Proceedin~s of the Royal Society of London 205 (1979): 581-98. Cf. Daniel C.
Dennett, Darwin's Dan~erous Idea: Evolution and the Meanincs of Life (New
York: Simon and Schuster, 1995), pp. 267-82. Gould and Lewontin offer a
critique of adaptationist "just-so" stories. This critique is itself criticized in Dennett.

287
process at the heart of a composition. In his essays that bear on variation,
Schoenberg is fIrst of all an Aristotelian: variations may change some features of
say a motive or phrase by modifying qualities of interval, rhythm or both, and
preserve others. Changes of proportion, contour and relative magnitude occur differences of excess or defect in Aristotle's terms - among varied forms, not to
mention qualitative changes of musical style.
The translator of Aristotle's Historia animalium, the great polymath D'Arcy
Wentworth Thompson (1860-1948), published the fIrSt edition of his On Growth
and Form in 1917. In what has become the work's most celebrated chapter,
Thompson introduced a Cartesian coordinate system for the purpose of comparing
related forms. But this particular grid works as if it were drawn on a rubber mat
that can be pulled and stretched.58 Through operations upon the grid itself, such as
varying the angle formed between the x and y axes, related forms can be regarded
as transformations of one another in their totality (Fig. 4.1 ).59

58See also Peter Medawar, "D'Arcy Thompson and Growth and Form,"
Pluto's Republic (Oxford, 1982), pp. 228-41.
59D'Arcy Thompson, On Growth and Form, ed. John Tyler Bonner,
abridged ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1961; reprint ed.,
Cambridge: Canto, 1992), p. 291.

288
Pigure 4.1

Af1er Albrecht DiiIer.

(Reprin1ed with the pemmsion of Cambridge Univeuity Press.)

Another kind of transformation occurs when ordinates occur in a nonuniform

fashion (Fig. 4.2).60

Figure 4.2

Af1er Albrecht Diirer.

(Reprin1ed with. the pennission of Cambridge Univeuity Press.)
~~_IIIIIC~--'

A radial graph (Fig. 4.3 right) undergoes transformation if it is treated like a rubber
60Ibid., p. 290.

289
mat and stretched in the center (Fig. 4.3 left). The transfonnation reproportions the
object in its totality.
Pigure 4.3
Anggonia Cap,IOs (left); Scorpaena sp. (right).
(Reprinted vith pennission of Cambridge UniveI3ity PIess.)

When Schoenberg compares motivic variation to caricature, he is essentially

invoking a notion oftransfonnation fonnalized by Thompson. 61 Crucial to both
Schoenberg and Thompson is the point that the relationship between varied fonns
ought not be regarded as piecemeal but as comprehensive.
Thompson compared varied fonns ahistorically for purposes of comparison

61 Arnold Schoenberg, "The Art of the Caricaturist" (4 August 1941),

unpublished manuscript, Archives of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute, 5pp.
typescript in English + 1p. of musical examples.

290
and study, and so could Schoenberg.62 But time was one axis absent from
Thompson's grid, whereas time is essential for Schoenberg's comparison of
motivic forms that are varied rhythmically as well as by interval.
Example 4.1
Transcription of musical examples from Schoenberg, "The Art of the Caricaturist."
Beethoven:
J.S. Bach: Fugue inCI minor from
StDl1gqUlI1etinP major
The Well1empered Piano
A} op. 135, "Muss es sein?"
I

11,- ,. J.'~~
1':"riIB
11
a
I ': 9r I r Pp IJ 1$ J. itl J
"#
'-.~
-2

1':"'-

l,:l

-4

Richaxd Wagner Walkyrie, act 3

II la3t scene.
WOTAN: Nicht S1reb

-3-4

II

or Cesar PI'8lICt:

Maid

Symphony

II

V"

IV Pranz Schubert. Song:

Der Doppelganger

B}

-!. C.M. v. Weber: Overtule Oberon

ij 1 ! J. .bJ I J. J>r I ,:II!
I

VI Robert Schumann
3d Symphony, 4th. movement

V Mozart: Magic Plute, At 1

rJ:~\ P
Sprecher:

~"

El III r~H I ,:~ 1 t

Finale

E"

FI,ll r If-II
~.

"

t ~ ~J ~ rI

"

veil Tod und Rache dich en1Ziinden

VO Arnold Schoenberg, VerkJar1e Nacht
The real trick is to present varied fonns in musical time, compositionally.
The urgent question Thompson raises with respect to time and variation, is whether

62Amold Schoenberg, "The Art of the Caricaturist," unpublished, Archives

of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute.

29l
or not variations entail a developmental, or historical, sequence. On this point
Thompson writes the following:
... the question stares us in the face ... whether we have any right to
correlate [,evolution'] with historic time. The mathematician can
trace one conic section into another, and 'evolve' for example,
through innumerable graded ellipses, the circle from the straight line:
which tracing of continuous steps is a true 'evolution', though time
has no part therein. It was after this fashion that Hegel and for that
matter Aristotle himself, was an evolutionist - to whom evolution
was a mental concept, involving order and continuity in thought but
not an actual sequence of events in time.63
To relate variations of form to lines of descent - a "homological plan" -- that
occurred in real time is paramount for the evolutionary biologist.64 But what is the
imperative to presume descent from variation? Schoenberg answers this question
with a question, but one of considerable profundity: "Without remembering, how
could we understand variations?"65 And this is just the point: in Schoenberg's
hands, developing variation conforms to the requirements of and emulates a
biologically-based memory system.
Common to all such memory systems are evolution and selection, or in
Edelman's words: "relative stability of structure under selective mapping

63D'Arcy Wentworth Thompson, On Growth and Form, p. 198.

64Michael T. Ghiselin, The Triumph of the Darwinian Method (Chicago,
1984), p. 108.
65Schoenberg, "Eartraining Through Composing" (1939), Style and Idea,

p. 381.

292
events."66 This sounds rather technical, but it shares exactly the same meaning as
Schoenberg's thought on variation:
I define variation as changing a number of a unit's features, while
preserving others. The change of features serves as an annihilation
of former obli&ations and eventually as a gradual introduction of the
new qualities that will make up the characteristics of the subsequent
idea. 67
As a structure changes over time it acquires a history in that those changes cannot
be undone and thus exert a constraining effect. And yet music's multifariousness
does not permit acquired constraints to diminish the possibility of variation in the
compositional process.
Infinite variations of shadow and light that fIlter through meandering clouds
is a central image in Schoenberg's discussion in the Harmonielehre of rhythm's
infinitely subtle nuances. Musil speaks of the path of history as also resembling the
path of a cloud. Through these images Schoenberg and Musil mirror each other in
making variation the first principle of their respective arts and one which resists
conventional notions of closure while still producing compelling forms - even if
those forms have a certain character of the fragment. Each aspect of a work as it
finds its place forestalls closure more than approaches it, and the consequences of
this amounts to a world of possibilities that exceeds the formal bounds of the work.
There is always an effort to project a future beyond the time-bound scope of the
work, and to produce an ending that mediates between formal closure and implied
66Gerald M. Edelman, Bri&ht Air. Brilliant Fire, p. 204.
67Schoenberg, "Connection of Musical Ideas" (ca. 1948), Style and Idea,

p.287.
"'

293
continuation which pennits the possibility of resumption. Just as Musil would have
completed The Man Without Qualities "at the end of a page in the middle of a
sentence with a comma" so too do hovering sonorities and recollections of earlier
themes evoke the concentration but not the exhaustion of material in Schoenberg's
music.68 As it happens both Musil and Schoenberg left major works unfinished.
Though works such as Dec Mann ohne Eigenschaften and Moses und Aron are
viable, incompleteness is a quality of each. It is a qUality not achieved by design,
but one that comes about as a matter of contingency.
Indeed, it is the conflict between necessity and contingency that reveals the
polar tension in the expression "developing variations." While development speaks
to fulfillment of form, variation speaks to the undepleteable pool of potential
change. The experience of the music or of the novel has the same double sense: so
many possibilities, yet variations are selected and assume a function, and the
requirements of form happen to be fulfilled. It is a view which reflects the process
of variation and selection, the sine qua non of Darwin's theory of evolution, which
functions as a template for so many understandings of history and creativity.
Since variation does not address itself to memory through literal repetition,
but rather through association and a sense of fullness in time, or, resonance, there
is the sense that such associations may be construed in terms of figurative
relationships. History, as has been formalized in the work of Hayden White, is
also rich in figurative language. As time is paramount to both musical and historical

68Marike Finlay. The Potential of Modem Discourse: Musil. Peirce and

Perturbation (Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1990), p. 48.

294
processes, can we find any overlap between musical imagination and historical
consciousness in the metaphors employed to express the sense of situatedness in
time?

N
Metaphors We "Compose" By. When Schoenberg writes about musical
processes, a harmonic progression from the tonic to its dominant and back to the
tonic, the progression is a metaphorical journey along a path. 69 When Webern

explains modulation, he speaks of a journey along a path of surprising turns. 70

When Schoenberg writes about historical processes, he refers to a work's taking
"the next step."71 Likewise, Webern's lectures are entitled The Path To New
Music and The Path To Twelve-Tone Music.72 In Erwartung, when the woman
first appears, she is searching for the path she cannot see. Jacob's ladder,

Warsaw's sewers, the wanderings in the desert and the homewardjoumey in

PieITOt's moonbeam-oared boat are just a few of the many paths permeating

69Schoenberg, "New Music: My Music" (ca. 1930), Style and Idea, p.

100.
70Anton Webern, The Path To The New Music, ed. Willi Reich (Wien:
Universal Edition, 1963), p. 48.
7lSchoenberg. "My Evolution" (1949), Style and Idea. p. 86.
72Anton Webern, The Path To The New Music, ed. Willi Reich (Wien:
Universal Edition, 1963).

295
Schoenberg's compositions. These metaphors produce a striking resonance
between musical processes and the flux of historical events.

In Metaphors We Live By. George Lakoff and Mark Johnson propose that
metaphors attain their trenchancy by making embodied knowledge the basis for
figurative language. 73 While metaphors arise through concepts, and as such are
idealized, the concepts themselves arise through the mind-body's interaction with
the world. The result, as the author's contend, is that "human thought processes
are largely metaphorical" and that language is permeated with metaphor.74 With
respect to the passage of time, Source-Path-Goal is a prevalent schema as evidenced
above in the examples from Schoenberg and Webem. For example, if I were to
interrupt myself and digress before going any further, Lakoff and Johnson would
point out that I am operating with a metaphor by which I see writing as an activity
that follows a train of thought, a path. One can go further along a path or be
diverted onto some other path, but eventually, there is a goal to be reached: an
understanding or an overview. And there is a source that precedes the activity of
writing: an answer to be tracked down or a recommendation to be followed up.
Source-Path-Goal forms one of several possible schemas, such as "up-down,"

73George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, Metaphors We Live By (Chicago:

University of Chicago Press, 1980), pp. 3-6. See also George Lakoff, Women.
Fire and Dangerous Things (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987). For
the implications of this view vis-a-vis a biologically-based understanding of
categorization and an excellent overview see Gerald M. Edelman, Bright Air.
Brilliant Fire (New York: Basic Books, 1992), pp. 246-52.
74Ibid., p. 6. Lakoff abstracts such metaphors based in experience and
formalizes them in terms of an idealized cognitive model (1eM).

296
"part-whole," "front-back," and "center-periphery." We focus on this schema in
particular because we hold it to be key to both Schoenberg's historical
consciousness and musical-narrative sense.
Of the three elements of the schema, Source-Path-Goal, the most pressing
for Schoenberg was the Path. As we saw in chapter three, Schoenberg was
alarmed that few if any recognized the developmental path traced by works. On the
other hand, Schoenberg denies that comfort or security may be derived from the
Path since one can never see very far ahead. The point here is that the Path may be
variously regarded revealing, an attribute that lends this schema an enhanced
capacity for dramatic representation.

v
Events and Representation. In the late nineteenth century, when debate
raged over what kind of science history was, Benedetto Croce, in a famous essay
from 1893 written at the age of twenty-seven, placed the question of representation
in history squarely within the domain of art. 75 Years later, he himself summarized
his youthful view in a brief sentence: history is the "artistic representation of the
real. "76 This view arises first of all from the rejection of prevailing aesthetic
theories which see the stimulation of emotion as the great achievement of art,

75Benedetto Croce, "La Storia ridotta sotto it concetto generale dell' Arte."
("History subsumed under the Concept of Art.") Cited by Collingwood, The Idea
of HistOl:Y, p. 191.
76Collingwood, The Idea of History, p. 192.

297

whether in program music's evocative storytelling or in absolute music's interplay

of formal relations. Croce's view afflfIllS that art is a cognitive activity whose
object is knowledge of the individual through intuition. Croce begins his Theory of
Aesthetic with a most interesting understanding of intuition:
The philosophical maxims placed in the mouth of a personage of
tragedy or of comedy, perfonn there the function. not of concepts,
but of characteristics of such a personage; in the same way as the red
in a painted face does not there represent the red color of the
physicists, but is a characteristic element of the portrait. 77
And in the same way art has its characteristic elements. such as the red in a painted
face, so too does music have its characteristic elements; the pure vocal line is a
primary one for Schoenberg. More than any other element the vocal line divulges
to the listener what it is like to have a particular conscious experience. The
expressivity of the vocal line is fundamental to Schoenberg's sense of dramatic
representation; orchestration, text and all the other elements of a presentation are
integrated by it. 78 Writing about Moses und Aron, Leon Botstein makes a general
point about how Schoenberg's music integrates the text:
... Schoenberg created in the music a means of expression analogous
to the theological struggle but independent of the overt meanin& of
the text. The music neither illustrates the text nor spins a parallel

71Benedetto Croce, Aesthetic: As Science of Expression and General

trans. Douglas Ainslee (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1970),

Lin~uistic,

p.2.
78Schoenberg, "New Music. My Music" (ca. 1930), Style and Idea, p.
106. "I make it my task to arrive at a vocal line that bears within it the text, the
stage, the characters, the decor, the music and everything else that is expressive,
while still unfolding purely in accordance with musical laws and musical demands."

298
narrative. It demands perception as an organic musical whole, with
its own special non-linguistic logic.19 (Emphasis added.)
Croce considers concepts as well as characteristics with respect to intuition.
When concepts become mingled within the fabric of some particular artistic
representation, logical analysis may recover them, but intuition perceives the fabric,
and contemplates it as the context of an individual expression. Intuition and
expression are two sides of the same coin; both are concerned with the
representation of the individual.80 History's concern is to narrate a special subset
of possible representations, those which actually happened.
One important implication of placing history within art is the rejection of
determinism which Croce argues at length in his Theory of Historiography.81
Determinism is antithetical to Croce who views life as a surging process of
creativity. Writing about Humboldt's linguistics, Croce revels in a view of
language that reflects this view of life. Croce quotes Humboldt's most radical
view: "Language is not a work, ergon, but an activity, energeia. It is an eternally
repeated effort of the spirit in order to make articulated tones capable of expressing

79Leon Botstein, "Arnold Schoenberg: Language, Modernism and Jewish

Identity," Austrians and Jews in the Twentieth Century, ed. Robert Wistrich (New
York: St. Martin's Press, 1992), p. 179.
80In this regard Croce is like Musil who was concerned about losing one's
connection with one's own experience to generalized concepts which instantiate
experience but do not entail it.
81 Benedetto Croce, History: Its Theory and Practice, trans. Douglas
Ainslee (New York: Russell and Russell, 1960), pp. 64-82.

299
thought. "82 Bergson and Croce accord in this view of life and its expression as
creative process as well as in the idea that it is the present that sustains the past. not
the past that detennines the present. Croce, unlike Bergson, holds that artists are
not cases of special creation.
Collingwood stresses a point on which Croce's thought converges with his
own: the historian must become his subject and re-enact his subject's process of
thought. As the historian uses evidence to reconstruct thought, the historicity of his
subject becomes palpable. and he becomes able to differentiate the real from the
possible. Thus inwardness becomes Croce's main criterion for historicity. When
Musil takes variation as the first principle of art, and writes that no word means the
same thing twice, he is taking a highly dynamic view of human creativity which
requires memory to appreciate the dynamism. Schoenberg's view is no less
dynamic. Emancipated dissonance intensifies the sense, true in tonal music too,
that no pitch means exactly the same thing twice. Art gives to history exactly the
view of life that accords with history's view, an onrush of new works that reflects
the endeavors of its creators.
Subsuming history within art results in narrative history. Subsuming art
history within art means that: "Artistic and literary history is therefore a historical

82Croce, HistOlY of Aesthetic, p. 327. See also Hans Aarslef, Introduction

to On Lan~age, by Wilhelm von Humboldt, trans. Peter Heath (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1988), pp. xxix-xxx. Aarslef elaborates the
distinction between ergon and energeia.

300
work of an founded upon one or more works of an."S3 (Croce's emphasis.) But
what does it mean for an to have history subsumed within it? In other words, if an
artist ventures out of the world of pure anistic possibility and attempts to capture
reality, does he necessarily produce a work of history? Is A Survivor From
Warsaw a work of history? Certainly there are many works that dramatize history,
but are not histories. A Survivor From Warsaw is a re-enactment of memory based
on a report of genocide. As such, it has historicity. It approaches history, but falls
short by purposefully not imposing a veneer of rationality upon the irrationality of
the incident. More than any other work of Schoenberg's, A Survivor from Warsaw
is about the transmission of experience through time.

VI
"The music. which kindled people's eyes like lights in the darkening
room and blew their bodies through each other like smoke, had
staned up again. "84
"Regarding every event. we must ask ourselves: What was trying to
repeat itself here?"85
Transmission and Evolution. Given the visionary dimension of
Schoenberg's search for a more ideal way to compose. his belief that over time
human musicality would evolve in ever more refmed ways and that composition

83Croce. Aesthetics. p. 131.

84Robert Musil. The Man Without Qualities, vol 2, p. 1547.
85Roberto Calasso. The Ruin of Kasch, trans. William Weaver and Stephen
Sanarelli (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1994), p. 196.

301

would sustain the values of traditional musical practice. questions about creativity
and cultural transmission call for exploration along evolutionary lines. We have
already broached the evolutionary view several times in Musil's reading of
Humboldt. Bergson's elan vital and Thompson's study of morphological variation.
Since Schoenberg places his whole enterprise in the context of an evolutionary
schema. we shall try to discuss the question of how music lives vis-a.-vis an
evolutionary epistemology .86
As a materialist answer to the question of creativity and transmission,
Richard Dawkins proposes the "meme" as the "unit of cultural transmission."87
Given Dawkins' orientation that natural selection is preeminently about reproductive
success, he draws the analogy between genes. as hell-bent biological replicators.
and memes, as no less hell-bent cultural replicators:
Examples of memes are tunes, ideas. catch-phrases, clothes,
fashions. ways of making pots or of building arches. Just as genes
propagate themselves in the gene pool by leaping from body to body
via sperms or eggs. so memes propagate themselves in the meme
pool by leaping from brain to brain via a process which. in the broad
sense, can be called imitation...As my colleague N. K. Humphrey
neatly summed up an earlier draft of this chapter: "... memes should
be regarded as living structures. not just metaphorically but
technically. When you plant a fertile meme in my mind you literally
parasitize my brain, turning it into a vehicle for the meme's

86See Gerard Radnitzky and W. W. Bartley. m. eds . Evolutiomuy

Epistemolo~, TheoQ' of Rationality and the Sociolo~ of Knowled&e (LaSalle:
Open Court. 1987). p. 2. "Evolutionary epistemology ... treats knowledge and
knowledge-processes as objective evolutionary products, to be compared and
contrasted with other such products."
87Richard Dawkins. The Selfish Gene, (New York: Oxford, 1976), p.
206.

302
propagation in just the way that a virus may parasitize the genetic
mechanism of a host cell ... "88
Bringing greater precision to this concept. Daniel C. Dennett specifies a few basic
requirements. According to Dennett. D-F#-A is not a meme - it's too little. But
the theme from the slow movement of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony is a meme;
"complex ideas that fonn themselves into distinct memorable units" are memes: an
arch. a wheel. the Odyssey, 'Greensleeves; and calculus are all memes. "89
The implication that musical works engage memory and live actively in the
mind is one congenial to Schoenberg with the qualification that the mind is never
passive: "one's own imagination must playa creative part."90 (Emphasis added.)
How Schoenberg's brain was parasitized by "Ach du lieber Augustin," or how
[ves's brain was parasitized by "My Old Kentucky Home" (to name one from the
multitude of tunes with which [ves composed) shows that these memes did not
reside passively in the mind. Either Schoenberg and Ives exapted these memes in
the creation of new works, or these memes opportunistically asserted themselves as

88Ibid., p. 206.
89Daniel C. Dennett. Darwin's Dangerous Idea: Evolution and the
Meanings of Life (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1995), p. 344. From a
Schenkerian perspective, D-F#-A, the major triad in root position is the ultimate
unit of replication in tonal music since it is both the source and the goal of all tonal
composition. From the perspective of music theory pedagogy, D-F#-A may still be
a meme. As a building block of composition it is too small to be a meme, but as a
basic unit of knowledge about chord structure it may be a meme.
9OSchoenberg, "About Music Criticism" (1909), trle and Idea, pp. 194-5.
See also Robert Musil, The Man Without Qualities, vol. 2, p. 1540. Musil writes:
"When do you understand a piece of music? When you yourself create it
inwardly!"

303

authors wherever a new niche became available. Dennett fmds himself

uncomfortable with the image of the mind passively parasitized by memes:
I don't know about you, but I am not initially attracted by the idea of
my brain as a sort of dungheap in which the larvae of other people's
ideas renew themselves, before sending out copies of themselves in
an infonnational diaspora. It does seem to rob my mind of its
importance as both author and critic. Who's in charge, according to
this vision - we or our memes?
There is no simple answer to that important question. There
could not be.91
That the nature of the question is paradoxical makes it all the more acute.92
On the one hand, if we are in charge, an act of imagination is required to
acquire a meme; a meme must be actively assimilated. As Dennett admits,
scientists do not walk around with verbatim copies of Darwin's writings stamped
upon their neurons. Each scientist has a uniquely assimilated version of Darwinian
concepts. That no two musical performances are ever identical, that Schoenberg
would refrain from copying out reprises and would instead recompose from
memory are instances that underline Edelman's point about the creative power of
memory. Thus our engagement with memes is highly individualistic.
On the other hand, if memes are in charge, then they are nearly autonomous
authors and critics; this view is not without basis in everyday experience. In
Dennett's example, a meme of utter banality may be unwittingly acquired and

91Daniel Dennett, Darwin's Daneerous Idea. p. 346. Artists who have

farmed see dungheaps in terms of their fertility without Dennett's aesthetic
aversion.
920f course for Schoenberg or anyone else with an idealistic view, the
answer must be that we are in charge, not memes.

304
commandeer the brain's whistling center, catching the whistler completely by
surprise. Propagation of a banality may be the undesired outcome. At a higher
artistic level, a meme may take control of the creative process in a way the
composer might ascribe to the aid of a helping hand, or, to the pair of red shoes that
commandeers the unsuspecting wearer in a relentless dance of creative activity.
This has a surprising degree of resonance with composers' reported experience.
"Heart and Brain in Music" (1946) reflects this view as it dwells on the mystery of
inspiration. Schoenberg writes in the passive voice of "being directed by
inspiration," and he quotes Brahms as saying: "A good theme is a gift from God."
Muses are given credit as helping hands, when it is the meme that, as Dennett
argues, is the author of its own realization.
Upon a work's completion, the composer experiences the meme's
disengagement. In an extreme example of this, Schoenberg wrote to Heinrich
Jalowetz about the Begleitmusik zu einer Lichtspielscene, Op. 34: "the
Lichtspielscene is very short, probably less than ten minutes. I wrote this piece
very fast and have no recollection of it."93 Thus the active engagement with memes
is rather ephemeral; the meme requires a sentient host momentarily, until reified and
reproducible. The work then seems to attain a degree of autonomy from the
composer no different than the invention does from the inventor. A pair of pliers,
to cite Schoenberg's own example, is not only an instrument for bending metal, but

93Schoenberg to Heinrich Jalowetz, 5 June 1947, Library of Congress.

305
it is also the instrumentality for the reproduction of the idea of pliers itself, i.e. the
meme:
"fIxing the crosspoint of the two crooked anns so that the two
smaller segments in front would move in the opposite direction to
the larger segments at the back, thus multiplying the power of the
man who squeezed them to such an extent that he could cut wire this idea can only have been conceived by a genius."94
The image of the brain as host entails a very different idea of history from
that of the brain as creative imaginer. If the brain is host to the author-critic memes,
linear chronology becomes paramount. Creative process becomes a little like
catching a cold. a simple matter of selective exposure when susceptible. The
historian must know what was known to an artist and when. in order to ascertain
the influence upon the artist. For example Nicholas Nabokoff recounts the
following about time he spent with the Stravinsky'S while Stravinsky was working
on The Rake's Pro&ress:
One entire evening was spent listening to the Toscanini records
of La Traviati!, which N.B.C. made especially for Stravinsky, at his
request, and the Glyndebourne recordings of Don Giovanni. This
opera is Stravinsky's special love; particularly now that he himself is
busy writing an opera.
"Listen to the length of those lines," he would say. "Listen how
clever they are, Quel souffle, QueUe clarte!"95
Stravinsky was not forthcoming about these particular influences remarking that he
listened to Mozart's Cosl fan Tutte while composing The Rake's Pro&ress. But

94Schoenberg, "New Music, Outmoded Music, Style and Idea" (1946),

Style and Idei!, p. 123.
95Edwin Corle, ed., &or Stravinsky: A Merle
Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1949), p. 164.

Armita~e

Book (New York:

306
listeners familiar with The Rake become well aware of the fidelity with which it
reproduces Don Giovanni and La Traviata without being overshadowed by them.
The history of the work can be related thus: seeking a chance for collaboration, the
memes of Mozart and Verdi opportunistically commandeer Stravinsky. A historian
could create an account of the genesis of The Rake by showing Stravinsky's direct
engagement with the selected works he studied during its composition, and
consequently demonstrate how The Rake transmits Mozart and Verdi. Stravinsky's
identity is cleft in two by the collaborating memes. Much the same effect occurs
when Joseph Kennan declares: "There is no such artistic entity as "Wagner"; only
four fantastic works of art."96 As a free agent, Parsifal finds a host in Moses und
Aron, but only in a limited way according to Kennan97 while Botstein, overdoing it
somewhat, claims the influence to be more extensive. 98 In a more general way
still, the composer's identity can be reduced beyond predecessors, but to fonns.
When Schoenberg writes about Pierrot Lunaire as consisting of: "dance-forms
(waltz and polka) and contrapuntal studies (passacaglia. double-fugue with canon
and retrograde of the canon, etc.)," he defends the role of Pierrot as a transmitter of

96Joseph Kennan, "Wagner: Thoughts in Season" (1959), Write All These

Down (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994), p. 273.
97Ibid., pp. 271-3
98Leon Botstein, "Arnold Schoenberg: Language, Modernism and Jewish
Identity," Austrians and Jews in the Twentieth CentUIY, ed. Robert Wistrich (New
York: St. Martin's Press, 1992), pp. 177-80.

307
traditional fonns denying Spengler's view of history in decline which insists that
transmission is no longer viable. 99
Conceptually, a theory of memes is useful and somewhat attractive: to
demystify creativity by ridding it of intangibles such as muses or Objective Spirit; to
trace transmission, to reflect the experience of artists, and to suggest something
about how music engages memory. The nagging problem that overrides the appeal
of the concept persists: 1) the theory does not require an active mind, and 2) the
theory does not account for the experience of imagination, of the new, or of the yetto-be-created.
Imposed upon the transmission of cultural products, the Darwinian view is
fundamentally at odds with the idealistic neo-Kantian framework within which
Steven Schwarzschild places Schoenberg's art in general and the twelve-tone
method as an aprioristic, rationalistic, ideal-seeking way to compose in particular.
The Darwinian view is fundamentally allied with materialist views of Hegelian
origin, such as Adorno's, which "cannot believe that truths can be found anywhere
but in 'actualities,' and certainly not in a priori ideas."IOO Schwarzschild and
Adorno offer two competing answers to Dennett's difficult-to-answer question,
who is in command - the mind, the memes, or the muse? Schoenberg who
understands the listener's role to be actively imaginative and the work to embody an
idea, must side with Schwarzschild: the mind has preeminence over the memes.
99Schoenberg, "The Young and I" (1923), Style and Idea. pp. 93-94.
IOOSteven S. Schwarzschild, "Adorno and Schoenberg as Jews Between
Kant and Hegel," Year Book of the Leo Baeck Institute 35 (1990), p. 467.

308
But if the ecology of the brain is as Dennett reluctantly suggests, one in which the
brain is little more than an undiscriminating host to parasitic memes, then
Schoenberg's art of the musical idea is, as Adorno says. "bankrupt," and his
works, "magnificent failures" because the theory of memes denies that there is
anything idealistic about how such ideas are formed (a priori) in the mind.lOl A
way of preserving and incorporating something of Kant's a priori knowledge into
the Darwinian framework is required to fmd some middle ground.
Promising reconciliations come from several sources. To consider these
requires what seems to be a departure of some distance from music proper. though
I think these ideas are really vital to the subject of creativity and historical
consciousness. Karl Popper seeks in the notion of expectancy a feature of
consciousness that lies between the opposites of a priori and materialist foundations
of rationality:
The theory of inborn ideas is absurd. I think; but every organism
has inborn reactions or responses; and among them. responses
adapted to impending events. These responses we may describe as
"expectations" without implying that these 'expectations' are
conscious. The newborn baby "expects," in this sense. to be fed
(and, one could even argue. to be protected and loved). In view of
the close relation between expectation and knowledge we may even
speak in quite a reasonable sense of "inborn knowledge." This
"knowledge" is not. however, valid a priori; an inborn expectation,

10 ITheodor W. Adorno, Philosophie clef neuen Musik (Frankfurt-am-Main:

Europaische Verlagsanstalt, 1958), pp. 91. 112f.

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no matter how strong and specific. may be mistaken. (The newborn
child may be abandoned, and starve.) 102
This view is further supported in greater biological detail by Edelman. In the same
vein as Popper, Edelman shows that memory and perception are necessary, but not
sufficient as bases for learning: "Expectancies are the results of categorizations
coupled to needs, and learning improves the chances of satisfying these needs." 103
This reformulation of the a priori as expectancy or working hypothesis admits the
possible into the creative process without falling into irrationality or solipsism.
Expectancy, refined (0 a degree where it can actually participate in a creative
process, was a basic part of an education which fostered the development of
Anschauun~.

For Popper, Kant is correct in saying: "Our intellect does not draw its laws
from nature but imposes its laws upon nature." I04 In 1931, Einstein's assistant
Ludwig Hopf reformulated this construction stressing the role of imagination and
intuition in the intellectual process: "Nature does not direct itself to our
Anschauun~,

but our capacity for Anschauun~ must direct itself to nature." I 05 The

102Kari Popper, Conjectures and Refutations: The Growth of Scientific

(New York: Basic Books, 1963), pp. 47-48.

Knowled~e

103Gerald M. Edelman, The Remembered Present (Basic Books, 1989), p.

57.
104Popper, Conjectures and Refutations, pp. 47-48.
105Quoted by Arthur I. Miller, Ima~ery in Scientific Thought (Boston:
Birkhauser, 1984), p. 241.

310

tenn Anschauuni adds a new angle to the general discussion of our question: How
does the idea live?
Translating water wave imagery to the conceptualization of light. scientists
fonned the

Anschauun~

of light as a wave phenomenon. Einstein, a virtuoso of

Anschauunien - the instruments of his thought experiments - acquired this mode

of thinking during his early education which remained integral to his intellectual
make-up:
The school was founded by followers of the Swiss educational
reformer, Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi, who emphasized the innate
'power of Anschauungen: Knowledge, he wrote in this 1801
book, How Gertrude Teaches Her Children. arises from sense
impressions that are 'irregular, confused.' Through education
begun with observing the world about oneself 'clear ideas' emerge,
until finally one develops intuitions according to a notion of
Anschauuni analogous to Kant's. Einstein's introduction to Kant's
notion of Anschauuni came through reading the Critique of Pure
Reason at thirteen. This notion was emphasized further at the
Kanton Schule, and then again at the Zurich Polytechnic Institute,
where the curriculum focused on applied electricity at a time when
the Anschauung of magnetic lines of force were puzzled over
throughout German-language engineering journals. 106
Einstein through an imaginative play of concepts could go beyond the available
perceptual data of his time. He could visualize a person, say, in pursuit of a point
on a wave of light, and then formulate the expectation that the person could never
catch up with that point no matter how fast he went. In a similar mode, Schoenberg
imagined conceptual possibilities for music. He framed this conceptual leap in

l06Miller, Imagety in Scientific Thou&ht, pp. 242-3.

311

historical terms: "The laws native to the genius ... are the laws of future
generations." 107 What accompanies the scientist's

Anschauun~

as wonder,

accompanies the artist's Anschauung as beauty: "But beauty, if it exists at all, is

intangible; for it is present only where someone whose perceptive power
(Anschauungskraft) alone is capable of creating it does create it, through this power
alone, and creates it anew each time as often as he perceives." 108 (Emphasis
added.)
This has consequences for the historian as well. If the imagining brain is in
charge, then all bets are off and the multifarious imaginings and influences in the
process of creative work become too intricate to tease apart. The research problem
of creative work is expressed in a more general fashion by Howard Gruber:
Psychology has neglected the study of work. and there exists no
theory for conceptualizing a working life-time. It is proposed here
that a person's work is organized in a branching network of
enterprises. The existence of such a structure facilitates diverse
simultaneous or parallel activities, occurring within the same span of
time and varying in the degree of their dependence upon each other.
This structure gives the individual choice as to the sequence and
timing of different facets of his work, pennits him to re-activate a
dormant enterprise when he cannot progress along some other line,
and gives continuity to his total pattern ofwork.I09

I07Schoenberg, Theory of Harmony, p. 325.

I08Schoenberg, Theory of Harmony, p. 325.
I09Howard E. Gruber, "Cognitive Psychology, Scientific Creativity," On
Scientific Discovery, Boston Studies in the Philosophy of Science, vol. 34
(Boston: D. Reidel, 1977), pp. 295-322

312
Gruber's view accepts manifold time, ie., the noncontemporaneity of the
simultaneous. In other words, to achieve an overall continuity. many individual
projects may evolve in either discontinuous or accelerated time frames.
Labyrinthine chronology would be the norm; orderly chronology would not. Most
of all, the experience of the music would mirror the ideal-seeking endeavor of the
composer.

313

CHAPTER V
HISTORICAL CONSCIOUSNESS IN SCHOENBERG'S MUSIC
To elucidate the relationship between philosophy of history and aesthetics
by which we understand historical consciousness to inhabit music and musical
experience, we tum to four event-oriented works. Inasmuch as each of these
works engages problems of consciousness,- representation and memory, each
offers a distinct perspective on a philosophy of history. The four works are:
Erwartung,Op. 17; Die gltickiiche Hand, Op. 18; Vorgefiihl, Op. 22 No.4; A
Survivor From Warsaw, Op. 46.
An encounter between the Woman, who is searching for her beloved. and a

corpse of uncertain identity and undetermined cause of death, is the central event of
Erwartung. It is an event obscured all the more by its setting in a dark woods along
a path illuminated only by the reflected light of the moon. As the woman's
expectations are tricked by the shadowy play of strange shapes shattering her sense
of continuity, so too are the expectations of the listener. Emulating the structure of
glass, the music is outwardly continuous, but inwardly lacking in an overarching

314
organizational principle. An almost granular kind of historical consciousness is in
effect in this work, which becomes fragmented in the extreme by sudden flashes of
memory. Still the fragments are held together by the continuity of the path to which
the Woman holds. But even the path, as a continuity which implies still further
continuation, contributes to the imperfection of the narrative and an atmosphere of
pseudo-reality.
By contrast, the historical consciousness operative in Die Cliickliche Hand is
cyclical. It is reminiscent of Nietzsche's ewiie Wiederkehr, the eternal return.
Here the crucial event is the Man's death; he lies dead at both the beginning and end
of the opera. When the dead Man, heedless to the instructions of the chorus to
pursue the spiritual over the material, returns to iterate his life once again, he acts no
differently than he has ever acted, and meets an identical end. According to this
plan the twenty-minute work implies a much longer time span of endless cyclical
repetition.
A prophetic historical consciousness permeates Rilke's poem Vorceftihl
which is enhanced by Schoenberg's setting. Though the coming event is
unspecified by the poem. the event is as plainly obvious from a high perspective as
it is invisible from the perspective of day-to-day life. In Schoenberg's hands the
coming event is a cataclysmic one that will tum day-to-day life upside down.
Schoenberg and Rilke (and Musil too) meet at the point where the essayistic and the
prophetic coincide in their unflagging struggle to project the future. Hermann
Cohen put it thus:
The concept of history is a creation of the prophetic idea.

315
What the Greek intellect could not achieve. monotheism
succeeded in carrying out. HistOlY is in the Greek consciousness
identical with knowledge simply. Thus. history for the Greek is and
remains directed only toward the past. In opposition. the prophet is
the seer. not the scholar. To see however is to gaze ...The prophets
are the idealists of history. Their vision begot the concept of history
as the being of the future.
They tum their gaze away from the actuality of their own people.
as well as from the actuality of other peoples. in order to direct it
only to the future. Thereby originates their new concept of history.
namely. that of world history. I
In this view. the scope of history acquires a meaning it does not possess when
restricted to the investigation and contemplation of the past. Likewise,
Schoenberg's setting does not merely evoke cataclysm. but imputes meaning
through memory to the transformative events we attempt to understand as the fabric
of history. As it is written: "No prophet prophecies anything other than what
ought to be."2 And this is where Schoenberg alters Rilke's meaning from "Sense
of Something Coming" CBly's translation) to "Sense of Something That Ought To
Be Coming," or even "Sense of What Must Come."
Striking a nerve with a most bitter humor, Schoenberg wrote: "I am afraid
the Poles will be disappointed when they see that it is only the sewers of Warsaw

IHermann Cohen. Reliiion Of Reason Out Of The Sources of Judaism,

trans. Simon Kaplan (New York: Frederick Ungar, 1972). pp. 261-2. See also
Paul Mendes-Flohr, "History" in Contemporary Jewish Reli~ious Thou~ht, eds.
Arthur A. Cohen and Paul Mendes-Flohr (New York: The Free Press, 1987), pp.
371-88.
2Yevamoth 49a. Quoted in Yeshayahu Leibowitz. Judaism. Human
Values. And The Jewish State. ed. Eliezer Goldman (Cambridge: Harvard, 1992),
p. 125.

316
which I glorify."3 We infer from this remark Schoenberg's awareness of the
evasions and denials arising in the aftennath of the Holocaust, abundantly
documented in Claude Lanzmann's fIlm Shoah. A Survivor From Warsaw is a
composition very much along the lines of Lanzmann's interviews with survivors
and witnesses. Leon Wieseltier, the literary critic, coined the expression "documemory" for Lanzmann's fIlm which acknowledges the fIfty-year temporal distance
by forgoing any use of documentary footage of the Holocaust.4 Lanzmann's tactic
is not to compress time fIctively, but to have instead the witness, the survivor, force
himself to traverse the temporal distance, go back in his memory and recount what
happened. There is no pretense to make the event live in the discontinuous
cinematographic sense of which Bergson was highly critical. Rather the memories
of those alive at the event become an interwoven collective memory. This is
precisely Schoenberg's approach: to reach the event through memory. The
historical, which beats back the spiritual as superstition, and the spiritual which
beats back the historical as ephemera, come together in A Survivor From Warsaw
to bring forth memory and the meaning of an event without either sentimentalizing it
or crassly monumentalizing it. Yet just this approach is very much a current
problem in philosophy of history, and we shall elaborate it when we return to
discuss the work more fully.
At the outset it should be made clear that our aim is to compare the works
3Schoenberg to Kurt List, January 1949, Library of Congress.
4Leon Wiesel tier, review of "Shoah," Dissent 33 no. 1 (Winter 1986): 27-

30.

317
with respect to the various assumptions of historical consciousness that operate in
each.
One further word before turning to Schoenberg's works is needed. There is
no claim that a composer's historical consciousness having some influence on the
compositions is uniquely characteristic of Schoenberg. A glance at the prologue of
Monteverdi's L'Incoronzione di Poppea in which the goddesses Fortune, Virtue
and Love each describes her powers is no less a kind of theory of history. Love
claims the greatest power; her slightest change of mood can substantially change the
world. Love's power deified is a heathen vestige which amounts to a theory of
history eminently suited for opera. An unpredictable world consciously regulated
from beyond the human sphere was a view that persisted into the eighteenth
century. However, it was not Love. but Fortune who. as Koselleck notes, held the
most sway as far as history was concerned:
...up until the eighteenth century, it was quite usual to make use
of chance, or luck in the form of fortUne, in the interpretation of
histories. This custom has a long and very changeable
history ... Fortuna was one of the few heathen deities transposed into
the Christian historical panorama... Chance is indicative of the
absence of moral and rational modes of conduct... 5
By the twentieth century, one not only had to grapple once again with the formation
of historical consciousness. but one had to form a historical consciousness in light
of a proliferation of theories of history. And this is where Schoenberg's
extraordinary imagination becomes a matter for study. Just as Humboldt held that

5Reinhart KoseUeck, Futures Past: On the Semantics of Historical Time,

trans. Keith Tribe (Cambridge: The MIT Press, 1985), pp. 117-18.

318
constellations of circumstances fonned historical events whose unique thumb print
was represented by works of history, this same assumption, imported to music by
A. B. Marx. suggests that "there are as many forms as there are pieces."6 Our
working assumption is that in Schoenberg's music these views are connected, thus,
each individual musical form entails an individual perspective on historical
consciousness.

II
Erwartung. According to Paul Munz, the historian weaves subevents into
events. and events into stories. From stories we cobble together a philosophy of
history.7 Philosophy of history is thus the most comprehensive level of what
amounts to a three-tier hierarchy. Subevents either permit or preclude the
possibility of an event's occurring. but do not in themselves fonn a narrative.
Subevents do not govern "inner necessity." This is key to Erwartung which
problematizes this hierarchical scheme by concentrating on myriad uncertain
subevents: a storm approaching. m. 12; crickets singing. m. 18; something
crawling. m. 40; a bird screeching, m. 77; mistaking a tree stump for a body. m.
85. and so forth. These subevents color the event but do not constitute it. Though
difficult to reconcile with a philosophy of history. a historical consciousness on the
6Adolph Bernhard Marx. Die Lehre von dec musikalischen Komposition.
praktisch-theoretisch. zum Selbstunterricht...(Leipzig: Breitkopf und Hanel,
1837), vol. 2. p. 5.
7Peter Munz. The Shape of Time: A New Look At the Philosophy of
History (Middletown: Wesleyan University Press. 1977), p. 246.

319
part of the Woman is still discernible in terms of continuities. viz. the Woman's
sense of situatedness along a path and a consistency in associations supported by
the vocal line. Her inclination toward the path acts as a restoring force that counters
the centrifugal tendencies and discontinuities of so many contingent subevents.
This takes us to the thematic questions of the opera: How does the Woman form
expectations amidst the chaos of subevents? And how does she cope with so many
defeated expectations? We will fIrst consider the prevailing discontinuities in the
opera in terms of four pairs of contrasting features. Afterwards we will consider
suggestions of continuity expressed in the metaphor of the path. and through the
evolution of the vocal line.
In the operatic monodrama Erwartung. there are four striking contrasts that
we can illumine from the perspective of a theory of history. First. a sharp contrast
exists between the intense emotionality presented in Erwartung. expressed through
a thicket of erratic subevents. and the paucity of a narrative, the details of which are
highly uncertain. Generally the representation of emotionality needs to be justifIed
within the context of a story to enable the audience to empathize with a character's
plight. The result is a modem dilemma: on the one hand. the sparse narrative
entails a degree of detachment from the extreme nature of the Woman's experience,
while on the other hand. a complete narrative contextualization would blunt the
immediacy of the experience. In the context of psychoanalysis, Donald P. Spence
makes the point that the patient who is a good narrator makes a passive listener of
the analyst. while the patient who makes no attempt to couch associations in
narrative. forces the analyst to listen actively:

320

As a result of the need to be coherent and conversational, the

patient may generate sentences rather than associations and present
us with words and descriptions that have little relation to his dreams
and memories. The more controlled the patient's productions, the
more they resemble a carefully organized narrative that can be
understood with only passive attention because both content and
context are supplied. On the other hand, the more fragmented and
disorganized the associations, the more actively the analyst must
listen in order to supply linking associations, to select one from a
multitude of possible meanings, and, in general, to arrange the
material in such a way that it can be meaningfully registered. 8
The Pappenbeim text, developed in conjunction with Schoenberg, strives not to let
the Woman become too much of a narrator. Schoenberg the composer is
consequently more compelled to compose a vocal line that in its form conveys the
resonance among subevents in some associative way. By the rules of this game,
listeners are left to form the narrative and assess its veridicality.
Second, there is a contrast between understanding the drama as the
repetition of an archetype, and the experiencing of the work, mainly on account of
the music and the vocal line in particular. as an onrush of the new.9 As the
repetition of an archetype, what myth does the character of the Woman resurrect? A
woman finds her beloved dead. Does she follow him into death in the manner of
Juliet, of Isolde, of Briinnhilde, or of Tosca? This is a path she appears to choose

Cmm. 268-70: "Now I will kiss you until I die ... "), but at a certain point the
Woman's memory clears; she turns toward a different archetype, one characterized
8DonaId P. Spence, Narrative Truth and Historical Truth: Meanin~ and
Interpretation in Psychoanalysis (New York: W. W. Norton, 1982), p. 280-1.
9See Robert Musil, "Woman Yesterday and Tomorrow" (1929), Precision
and Soul, pp. 208-13. In Musil's terms, Erwartun~ presents an old-fashioned
woman, in dress and jewelry, in a modem situation.

321
by jealousy and anger: Medea. Amneris, Salome. Both Juliet and Salome are
specifically directed to kiss their deceased beloved. But does the Woman bestow
Juliet's kiss to Romeo or Salome's kiss to Jokanaan? The Woman first kisses her
beloved's hand. and later his mouth. After kissing him and gazing at him. she
searches her memory perhaps reluctantly - much as the survivor from Warsaw
does - and her memories of his infidelity arise. She recounts these memories in
musical passages that contrast starkly with the rest of the opera. And then she
begins to show her fury (mm. 270-350). Yet while embodying a mosaic of
archetypes the Woman is both more and less than the sum of her sources. Her
freedom from archetypal behavior makes her more. but her lack of background
makes her somewhat less. As Kundera writes: "From Balzac to Proust. a character
without a name is unthinkable."lo Characters must have backgrounds, but the
Woman has none. She contends with the past in an unfolding and undetermined
present without any apparent background upon which to draw. She is neither a
Capulet, nor a daughter of Herodias, nor a princess of Ireland. Only Melisande
approaches the Woman in lack of background. Background is an element of
historical continuity. Without it, and without narrative, it is hard to answer
questions about the circumstances of the drama
The third contrast lies between the incredibly limited visibility implied by the
setting in the dark woods lit only here and there by moonlight, and the perfect
transparency of the aural setting due primarily to Schoenberg's orchestration. With

IOMilan Kundera, Testament~ Betrayed, trans. Linda Asher (New York:

Harper Collins, 1995), p. 161.

322
everything obscured in darkness. the Woman proceeds heuristically. but what she
learns occupying one small patch in the woods allows her to infer nothing about
what is in the near distance. Representing the terror of fmding one's way in the
dark. the vocal line alternates between melodramatic outbursts and lyrical song. I I
Nowhere does the musical texture of Erwartung recall the tenebrosity of the
catacomb scene from Pelleas und Melisande. Op. 5 (rehearsal 30-32). though the
transition leading out of the catacombs is reminiscent of the ascending passage at
the very end of Erwartung. 12 In Pelleas. however. the ascent of enriched
augmented chords leads to a climactic statement of the "destiny" motif. In
Erwartung, a similar gesture, which at first propels the euphoric call to an
unspecified addressee ("Oh. bist du da.. .Ich suchte." mm. 424-5) is ultimately
unanswered, leaving what seems to be the next part of the story a mystery. Before
turning to the fourth point of contrast, let us consider the picture so far.
With its torrential emotionality, central character with no background,
pervasive atmosphere of irreality and sketchy implications of a story, it is nearly
impossible to think of the action represented in Erwartung as a product related in
any way to the Wirklichkeitswissenschaft of history. From the perspective of the
philosophy of history, Erwartung warrants a return to the viewpoint of chapter one,

IIFor a full-scale discussion of the background of melodrama and Lied

traditions vis-a.-vis Erwartung, see Diane Holloway Penney, "Schoenberg's
Janus-Work 'Erwanung': Its Musico-Dramatic Structure and Relationship to the
Melodrama and Lied Traditions" (Ph. D. dissertation, University of North Texas,
1989), 403 p.
12Cf. Erwartung (mrn. 423-6) to Pelleas und Melisande (rehearsal 31-32).

323
that the unrepressed exercise of creativity must reject the excesses of historical
consciousness, and that this rejection is necessary in order to delve into and to
represent the complexity of inwardly-produced sensations which arise in extreme
situations of prolonged ambiguity. As spectators seeking a story with a beginning
and an end, a sense of time and place, and a developmental logic from which to
infer tacit narrative elements, we are instead confronted with a pseudoreality, that is
to say, a highly-concentrated expression of emotionality within a vague context of
uncertain significance. 13 In a letter to Busoni, Schoenberg writes about this surge
in the representation of emotion in his music:
It is impossible for a person to have only one sensation at a time.
One has thousands simultaneously... And this variegation, this
multifariousness, this illogicality which our senses demonstrate, the
illogicality presented by their interactions, set forth by some
mounting rush of blood, by some reaction of the senses or the
nerves, this I should like to have in my music.l4
This view rejects a scientific historical understanding by repudiating abstractions of
behavior into stock classifications, and rejects literary understanding by not
permitting emotional "states" to be strung along some imposed narrative thread.
Moreover, by considering the entire drama to be a time-expanded representation of
a highly concentrated experience with only the vaguest implication of what the
listener should consider to be a representation of something that "actually
happened," the work strives to be ahistorical in much the same way it is atonal or
I3See Musil, The Man Without Qualities, vol. 2, p. 1745. This idea of
pseudoreality follows Musil.
14Schoenberg to Busoni, ca. 1909, Arnold Schoenberg Self-Portrait, ed.
Nuria Schoenberg-Nono (Pacific Palisades: Belmont, 1988), p. 10.

324
athematic.l 5 Erwartung accords with Bergson's metaphysics which presupposes
the uniqueness of things and of experiences, and consequently demands a unique
effort in their representation and understanding. Through metaphysics Bergson
seeks to retrieve abstract qualities from their autonomous static existence, and to
restore them to the dynamism of inner experience. Bergson's touchstone is the
fluidity of music over the rigidity of images.l 6 Most importantly, it is Bergson's
view that permits the simultaneity of numerous emotional states in response to
thousands of stimuli. As noted in the quotation from Collingwood above, this kind
of response depends upon memory and may be understood with respect to how we
attend melody. This takes us to the fourth point of contrast.
There is dramatic contrast between the Woman's melodramatic declamation
and her moments of song. But there is a qualitatively different kind of contrast
between the rest of the opera and the passage framed by the two eleven-note
chords, beginning after the kiss (mm. 270-382, mm. 282 and 296 especially)

15Schoenberg, "New Music: My Music" (ca. 1930), Style and Idea, p.

105. "In Erwartung the aim is to represent in slow motion everything that occurs
during a single second of maximum spiritual excitement, stretching it out to half an
hour.....
16Henri Bergson, Introduction to Metaphysics, trans. Mabelle L. Andison
(New York: Citadel Press, 1992), pp. 159-200.

325
during which memories begin to flood the Woman's mind.17 Erwartung throws
into question the veridicality of memory as the basis for both the historical accuracy
of the narration, and the constancy of the central figure who must remain
identifiable amidst changing circumstances. The Woman struggles in her
relationship with herself as the narrator of her own life, just as Musil's Ulrich
struggles with the loss of a narrative thread in his life. Musil writes:
Lucky the man who can say 'when', 'before' and 'after'! Terrible
things may have happened to him, or he may have writhed in pain,
but as soon as he can tell what happened in chronological order he
feels as contented as if the sun were warming his belly. This is the
trick the novel artificially turns to account: Whether the wanderer is
riding on the highway in pouring rain, or crunching through snow
and ice at ten below zero, the reader feels a cozy glow, and this
would be hard to understand if this eternally dependable narrative
device, which even nursemaids can rely on to keep their little
charges quiet, this tried-and-true 'foreshortening of the mind's
perspective: were not already part and parcel of life itself. Most
people relate to themselves as storytellers.l 8
Listeners to Erwartung are not apt to feel a cozy glow, rather they are more likely to
feel rapt in an uncompromising mood of uncertainty in thrall to the Woman's
mercurial temperament. To the ear, the vocal line and extended orchestral effects
accompanying her reaching back into memory represent a near total disintegration
of her personality. Nevertheless, if we direct our attention to the details of the vocal
line there is a striving for coherence as the vocal line becomes more insistently
17Cf. Penney, "Schoenberg's Janus-Work 'Erwartung'," p. 367. The two
eleven-note chords frame a section (mm. 269-382) concerned with the Woman's
memory. Penney does not consider the function of these chords in articulating the
structure, and, instead using text-based formal criteria, analyzes the scene's
articulation thus: mm. 125-325,326-57,358-88.
18Robert Musil, The Man Without Qualities, vol. 2, pp. 708-9.

326
motivic in the hyperactive texture. This occurs just when things are in a dramatic
sense at the breaking point. What I would like to suggest is that this duality in the
vocal line is resonant with metaphorical significance especially in regard to the
opera's setting and action which occurs along a path.
Erwartuns strains to engage historical consciousness through the
developmental schema that saturates Austrian-Jewish literature, including the
writings of both Marie Pappenheim and Schoenberg: source-path-goal. Inasmuch
as Erwartuns is a work in which source and goal are obscured, the monodrama is
obsessed with the path -- "WeS." The Woman sings her first line in an attempt to
find the path:
Die Frau: Hier hinein? ... Man sieht den Weg nieht ...
[The Woman: In here? ... One does not see the path ... ]
The path is prominently indicated in the stage directions at the beginning of each of
the scenes and effectively articulates the drama: in scene ii a broad path contrasts
'With the dense wood; in scene iii the path remains in darkness while moonlight
illuminates a clearing; in scene iv there is a moonlit road that disappears in darkness
to the near left, but reappears and opens on a path in the distance. While the true
source of the woman's plight must be inferred, the true source of the drama is the
journey along the path which is heightened by disorientation and misperception in
the dark. If we review the openings of the subsequent scenes there is more about
the path. Scene 2 begins:
Die Frau: 1st das noch der Weg?
[The Woman: Is this still the path?]
At the beginning of Scene 4, the moon rises lighting not the path, but a clearing

327
beside it:
Die Frau: Er is auch nicht da. ..Auf der ganzen langen StraBe nichts
Lebendiges und kein Laut...
[The Woman: He's not there either...On the whole long road nothing living ...
and not a sound ... ]
A representation of a schema manifest in the setting permeates language about
time's passing. But the journey, rooted in the source-path-goal schema,
encompasses the idea of transformation. not just transposition. By the end of the
opera, the Woman has undergone a profound transformation in how she interacts
with the outside world. Even more than in her words, this transformation reveals
itself in the vocal line.
We want to understand how the Woman's transformations of consciousness
are reflected in the vocal line which is so central to the continuity and coherence of
the opera. Most of the opera represents the. Woman's crisis over consciousness:
her struggle with her sense of situatedness along the path; the mood of uncertainty
which flavors all her perceptions; her inability to integrate all that she senses with
respect to memory and experience.
One means by which she unifies the disparate stimuli she perceives is
through her expectation of an imminent encounter with her beloved - after all, he
must be somewhere along the path. This expectation is so strong that it inhibits her
ability to see things as they are. Instead she endows the world outside the garden the garden that belongs to them mutually - with not merely his attributes, but his
attributes in death. As she perceives it, every aspect of the outside world manifests
some particular facet of her beloved's corpse. This perception is represented in a

328
consistent way as musical and textual factors intenningle. This intenningling
begins in the way that both questions and exclamations are declaimed, and then in
the use, at one of several transposition levels, of the ascending melodic gesture
<+3, +8> in conjunction with the beloved's attributes (Ex. 5.1). In m. 84, the
Woman asks: "What is that?" The answer: "A body ...No, only a tree stump."
Her first guess is implied by the question which is melodically equivalent to her
identification of her beloved's body, <8, D, A#>, a climactic moment in the opera
(m. 153). When the Woman sings: "How it stares ... " (m. 109) she again suggests
a body, though it turns out to be that of an animal; she immediately and reflexively
calls for her beloved's help. As if observing a corpse, she sings, "Without breath,"
(m. 129), referring to the broad white fields which do not stir at all. Finally,
kneeling over the body she declares that it is he. Yet there is something troubling
about this identification. Orchestra and voice converge upon the same motif, but at
different transposition levels. The low strings insist on <0, F, C#>, while the
Woman sings <8, D, A#>. She sees the body, then turns away and continues to
transfer his attributes to the world around her. The moon's face becomes his
"horrible" head (m. 162). She looks at the body again and dwells on its facial
features. As if separating her beloved into ideal and real fonDS, she looks at the
body and says that "it has his mouth" (mm. 176-7). Believing he is alive, she tries
to awaken him. The extreme moment of her belief in this counter reality em. 227)
occurs as she fantasizes that it is broad daylight and they are lying together, both
alive. The mood of the moment colors the melodic figure; in the varied form, the
motive is reshaped <+4, +7>. Reminiscent of the Bluebeard story, the Woman has

329
gone searching through the woods and projected every fearsome aspect of her
beloved into that environment. In the next stage of the drama, memory impels her
to acknowledge that she believes him to be unfaithful; the focus of her anxiety
becomes concentrated in him rather than diffused in the woods.
BxampleS.1

Brvanung, Op. 17
OccUIIellCes of ( +3, +8) t:richords and. valiants.
JI.. 109~

L....-.3---'

II It' P
Wie es

Was ist des?

Ii:

m.. 162

, P @~]! If I
&...--...!.3~
3chreclcliche Kopf...

JI.. 176

Is

JI..129

I ') j rip II' P p

glotzt ...

i,
~

es hat

JI..153

Ohne

m..227

r~

Atem,
~

rn

sei nen Mund.

Des 1st er L.-

II ii p I P_"1 ~
del ne

Hande

The motive <-I, -3> -- the unordered inversion of <+3 +8> often set with
the pitches <Eb, D, B> - occurs consistently at poignant moments of the drama. 19
It first becomes prominent as the beginning of a consequent phrase (m. 98) to an
antecedent which began in m. 94 (Ex. 5.2). The opening motives of the two
phrases are inversion ally related. In a varied form of <+3, +8> the Woman notices
something dancing which she realizes are shadows. At m. 98, the shadows give
rise to a brief reflection, though not quite a memory. This trichord, <Eb, D, B>

19 See Penney, "Schoenberg's Janus-Work 'Erwartung'," p. 284. The

importance of the <0, F, elf> motif is noted by Penney, but without respect to
textual associations or associations with other motives.

330
descending, becomes the beginning of many lines which carry with them an
expression of the intimacy the Woman feels toward her beloved (Ex. 5.2). At m.

219 she begins the fantasy about the two of them lying together in the daylight by
drawing his hand to her, kissing it and warming it upon her breast. This fantasy
culminates in m. 269 when it seems she is willing to follow him into death kissing
him until she dies. It is in the aftermath of this kiss that her memory begins to
assert itself and she begins to show her anger. This episode of remembering is
rounded out by the return of the trichord to express her feeling that she is dying of
longing; the return of the eleven-note chord, heard previously with the kiss (m.

269), accompanies her words (m. 382): "I believed I was happy."2o

20See Schoenberg, Theory of Hannony, p. 418. Schoenberg takes this

chord as an example.

331
Example 5.2

EryutUng, Op. 17
Occumnces of the tricbord (-1, -3) on <Eb, D, B >, and rela\ed tricbords.

Ii! JIL.94

lid iil

r-!3

J I

a. 9'~

Dort tanzt etwas

tr~.~ I
Ohl wie dei n

JIl.201

"..-,

~ n I lit J JI ~J 11 -tr-ri '~J rn IF" I rniJ~rlijJII

Nicht tot sei n. mei n Liebster ... Nur nichttot sei n ich lie -

be dich so ...

ii'i1 ~ 'I -ij_Aliil l

Ii:

W;rd sie nicht Warm_ en meiner Brust?

JIL.269

rn I~r.~ .ij p
Nun lelia ich mich en

...

if ~l

IJ iil"

di r

- To - de.

zu

m..373

~ ~~p.jjJ I~P ."ijp P ~p ., P~ I

hest du sie oft geldiat? ...

wihrend ich vor Sehnsucht vergi ng ...

Trichordal motives underscore the Woman's projection of her beloved into

the world -- she sees him everywhere. But this view changes. And to understand
this transformation. let us consider the vocal line more comprehensively. The
persistence of motivic elements. the occasional presence of lyric poetry in the text.
and the sense of a central character who experiences many complex emotional states
and who undergoes a transformation all suggest the workings of a song cycle, or

332
more precisely, a cycle of song fragments within the monodrama. 21 According to
my hearing, Schoenberg creates generic expectations of song at seven points in the
course of the opera through a regulation of the orchestra to suggest a lied
accompaniment, and then through a regulation of the declamation to suit the manner
of a lied. Instances of lied occur at mm. 47, 90, 128, 144,353,390 and 404; the
beginning of the vocal line at each of these instances is illustrated below (Ex. 5.3).
These are fragmentary songs that make a cycle, but most of all, through an evolving
approach to the construction of the vocal line, Schoenberg reveals not only a fonnal
difference, but a qualitative difference that represents the transfonnation of the
character.

21See Pierre Boulez, Notes Of An Apprenticeship (New York: Alfred A.

Knopf, 1968), p. 365. That Erwartung is a kind of song cycle is a point made in
passing by Boulez.

333

!xampleS.3
!mrtuII.C, Op. 17
OccUIl'ences of Lied before m. 404.

t:.fA.~

..

..

,PfG RIP) f If I
So,

der Weg 1st brelt ...

,:t 'J f.4' -r I f r ijfF"b p. I9p' I.

,:t #J mll J j'J. ilV ]dl E'J I

,..--3----,

fA. 90

De kommt eln Ucht!

Ach!

~.m

144

~~

nur der Mond .. Wle_

~~. :tIl

gut ...

~3~

Ole wel
fA.

~J'

~.

ten blassen Felder sind ohne

Atem,

r---3~

~r--- ----.

:j

, p p .~ I-r ,.hF,}:U tf I
Aber

so

lang hab ich i hn nicht gesehn.

fA. 353

~ ~r -r -r ~3 _~ I .~aJ ,3 ~3 I ~J. ijJ pi hJ I

t
,F r l:t 'F 'r "t ,~ I 'r r I,J I
Oh! nicht einmal

die

Gnede,

mit dlr ster- ben

Liebster I

der

Morgen Icommt...

zu dUrfen ...

fA 390
.

Liebster I

Songs 1 and 2 (nun. 47 and 90) are audibly similar. Both are continued
rather freely and rather differently. Song 1 (m. 47) arises from a reminiscence
about the edenic life the Woman and her beloved led behind the garden wall. Song
2 (m. 90) begins scene 3 and introduces the two trichordal motives discussed
above. In the fourth measure of scene 4, Song 3 begins. Its opening phrase

334
contains the <+3 +8> motive which here refers to the still fields without breath.
Following shortly afterward is Song 4 (m. 144), which is not so much a song in
itself, lasting just one measure, as a premonition of Song 5 with which it shares the
same motivic opening, <Eb, D, B>. Song 5, occurring within the passage which
concentrates on the Woman's memory, and framed by the two eleven-note chords,
begins to show a noticeable difference in construction. "Oh! nicht einmal" and
"Gnade, mit" are set with the same motive, with its inversion setting "sterben zu."
This motive persists in the vocal line in much the way a painful memory persists,
and that begins the transformation. Earlier songs were more freely lyrical, even
playful. They brought the comfon of rosier memories. "Liebster, Liebster, der
Morgen komrnt" is a beautifully lyrical melody freely constructed like earlier
melodies but linked through phrase endings that generate new phrase beginnings.
This is essentially a farewell song to her beloved. In the morning light, she no
longer sees him everywhere as she did at night. At m. 400, Song 6 comes to a
close. Three transitional measures lead to the seventh song which begins at m.
404.
This final song gets much attention because it quotes the music and text of
Schoenberg's song Am Wegrand, Op. 6, No.6, from a text by John Henry
Mackay. Analysts, following Adorno, have argued that Am Wegrand is imponant
for understanding Erwanung as compositionally coberent. 22 But the quote from
Am Wegrand is, in effect, rather intrusive, though necessarily so. Rather it is the

22Penney, "Schoenberg's Janus-Work 'Erwanung'," p. 259.

335
vocal line which does not quote Am Wegrand that demands our attention.
lllustrated below, it is the kind of line that Schoenberg, around this time, was
beginning to see as approaching an ideal: imbricated, persistently motivic, with
minimal pitch repetition and, in its way, free (Ex. 5.4). In other words, the
imbrication accords with the telescoping effect or effect of moments interpenetrating
in memory about which Collingwood and Bergson write. This vocal line
represents the Woman in full consciousness and coming out of the irreality of a
perceptual world dominated by the image of her beloved. Her memory has led her
to at least the narrative truth of her situation. That she sings a line of such
integrated construction, so rich in association and memory, is evidence of her
transformation from someone of highly impaired consciousness to someone who
can see matters from a considerably higher perspective.23

23See Penney, "Schoenberg's Janus-Work 'Erwartung'," p. 367.

Penney's analysis shows an articulation between mm. 410 and 411 resulting in a
grouping of nun. 389-410 followed by nun. 411-17 and mm. 418-426. I suggest
that nun. 404-17 form a group based on the consistency in the construction of the
vocal line and the low D in the bass that initiates "Der Morgen trennt..." (m. 404-5)
in the manner of a preliminary verse to "Tausend Menschen ... " (m. 411).

336
Example 504
Erya:rtUDc, Op. 17
Concentration of (-1 , -3) 1richords and relat!d fOImS.

j~tpltJ~~ ~tffJ81i d.jtp

~;

iJQ-;i .ij &ij.u11

Der Morgen trennt uns .. .i m

Wie -

der ei n

p"

p-r~rl

- mer der Morgen ..So Schwer kUBt du zum

Ab.chied ...

e - wi - ger Tag des

";~j I~ 011~,p~jJ:1
War-tens ... oh

du erw8chst ja nicht mehr ...

m..411

(p ~p f-IJ~~) ~'@ijJ i
Tausend

Men

I ~j ~~ I

3chen ziehn_ vor -

ijber ...

In the manner of Nietzsche, EIWartun~ arrives at a formulation of historical

consciousness which places narrative truth ahead of historical truth. Though
EIWartung is a story that leaves many questions to the imagination and barely
achieves narrative certainty, the music takes the fragments of story and fashions a
narrative by concentrating motivic elements into a model of subjective memory that
evolves over the course of the opera.

337

ill
Die gliickIiche Hand. From the experimentation with synesthesia produced
through the effects of co-orchestrating light and sound. to the instantaneous
realization of an idea by a single hammer blow, to the chorus which exhorts the
Man to elevate his view and transcend the worldly, the mystical aspects of Die
gliickIiche Hand create a powerful impression. and these have drawn the greatest
critical attention. What requires our attention. however. are the questions of
historical consciousness that manifest themselves in this work, specifically. with
respect to a cyclical view of history predicated upon the return to both the opening
material and tableau of scene one in the opera's final scene. This view not only has
an early basis in the corsi and ricorsi of the cyclical philosophy of history elaborated
by Vico, but arises as a significant issue in Gennan-Jewish philosophy of history.
Yet like Erwartung, irreality penneates the work and makes questions about history
seem out of place. After first addressing Die gliickIiche Hand's condition of
pseudoreality, we shall see how the cyclical view of history inheres in the opera's
overall fonn while. at the same time, it conflicts profoundly with the Man's sense
of linear time. 24 Historical consciousness weighs heavily upon the crisis this work
represents.

24See Joseph Auner, "Schoenberg's Aesthetic Transfonnations and the

Evolution ofFonn in Die gliickIiche Hand," Journal of the Arnold Schoenberg
Institute 12 (1989): 103-28. The discontinuity in the compositional process of Die
gliickIiche Hand itself may have enhanced the distinctly linear representation of
events in scenes two and three which sacrifice nothing to the cyclical framework
established by the symmetry of scenes one and four. Evidence suggests that scene
four became rigorously recapitulatory only in a final phase of composition in 1913.

338
Like Erwartun~, Die ~Iiickliche Hand represents a pseudoreaIity in a way
especially resonant with Musil's view. Musil's idea of pseudoreality is that:
"... the personal givens of events are definite and delineated, but
what is general about them, or their significance, is indefinite,
faded, and equivocal, and repeats itself unintelligibly. The person
awakened to awareness of the current situation has the feeling that
the same things are happening to him over and over again, without
there being a light to guide him out of this disorderly circle. "25
This view describes the situation in Die ~Iiickliche Hand almost exactly, except that
the Man never is awakened to an awareness of his situation. He is unwittingly
trapped in an eternally recurring life, spumed by laughter from voices of Six Men
and Six Women who see the ludicrousness of the Man's self-alienation. The
chorus is in tum ignored by the Man who lies dead, heedless to their message
which attempts to awaken him to consciousness. Like Erwartun~ too, the Man,
and other characters, lack names and background other than what can be inferred
from their manner of dress. Again, because of this lack of background, we are not
invited to regard the characters sympathetically, only objectively. Additional factors
further objectify the actions and emotions: a moment of general omniscience when
all the characters seem to share a sense of situatedness never occurs, the Man is an
incompetent narrator of his own life, and the Man's horizon, literally, does not
extend beyond his hand's reach. For these same reasons the Man does not attain
the transformation of consciousness that the Woman of Erwartun~ does. As the
chorus indicates, he is blind and he fails to elevate his perspective as he leads the
same life in eternal recurrence.

25Musil, The Man Without Qualities, vol. 2, p. 1745.

339
This non-developmental aspect of eternal recurrence is captured through the
representation of an animal. a winged hyena. that has its teeth sunk into the back of
the Man's neck at the beginning and end of the opera. The action that brings this
about occurs as the Woman is deceived and humiliated by the Gentleman who has
tom a large swatch of cloth from her dress, teased her with it, and tossed it to the
Man. She retrieves the cloth from the Man who pursues her. Gaining the plateau.
she pushes a great rock upon the Man; this rock is transformed into the winged
hyena. Lying prone to the animal. the Man passively becomes part of the animal.
Meeting this fate, the Man loses his dignity; he is claimed by nature from a
powerless existence. In the words of R. Soloveitchik: "... dignity is unobtainable
as long as man has not reclaimed himself from coexistence with nature and has not
risen from a non-reflective, degradingly helpless instinctive life to an intelligent,
planned. and majestic one ... there is no dignity without responsibility ... "26 This
relationship of man and animal is the antithesis of the Egyptian Sphinx which
according to Hegel's interpretation represents the human using faculties of higher
consciousness to emerge from the animal. The Sphinx carries significant symbolic
importance. For Hegel. Egypt:
.. .is the land of the symbol and sets itself the spiritual task of selfdeciphering the spirit, without really attaining its end. The problems
remain unsolved and the solution which we are able to provide
consists therefore merely of interpreting the riddles of Egyptian art
and its symbolic works as a problem that the Egyptians themselves

26Joseph B. Soloveitchik, The Lonely Man of Faith (New York:

Doubleday, 1992), p. 16.

340
left undeciphered... 27
As a symbol for this proper meaning of the Egyptian spirit, we
may mention the Sphinx. It is, as it were, the symbol of the
symbolic itself...recumbent animal bodies out of which the human
body is struggling...The human spirit is trying to force its way
forward out of the dumb strength and power of the anima), without
coming to a perfect portrayal of its own freedom and animated
shape. 28
In Die gltickliche Hand, it is the Man's body that lies recumbent and passive as it is
devoured by the animal. In creating this antipode to the Sphinx, Schoenberg seems
to come full circle in a desire to return to the spiritual problem of Egypt as Hegel
describes it. Writing to Kandinsky on August 19, 1912, Schoenberg refers
specifically to Die gltickliche Hand as well as to Kandinsky's Die gelbe Klang with
respect to puzzles. not to bring man out from the animal, but to acknowledge a
world of possibility beyond the upper limits of the comprehensible and thereby
approach God. We might see it as a spiritual neoteny, a return to a stage from
which a wider range of paths was available, Egypt, in order to undergo a rebirth,
exodus:
We must become conscious that there are puzzles around us. And
we must find the courage to look these puzzles in the eye without
timidly asking about 'the solution.' It is important that our creation
of such puzzles mirror the puzzles with which we are surrounded,
so that our soul may endeavor - not to solve them - but to decipher
them. What we gain thereby should not be the solution, but a new
method of coding or decoding. The material, worthless in itself,
serves in the creation of new puzzles. For the puzzles are an image
of the ungraspable. And imperfect, that is, a human image. But if
we can only learn from them to consider the ungraspable as
possible, we get nearer to God, because we no longer demand to
27Hegel, Aesthetics I, p. 354.
28Ibid., pp. 360-1.

341
understand Him. Because then we no longer measure Him with our
intelligence, criticize him, deny him, because we cannot reduce him
to that human inadequacy which is our clarity.29
Die glUckliche Hand brings the historical cycle to a human scale much as
Vieo proposed. Following Vico, the scenes represent the Man's life through its
phases of: blOSSOming, development, maturity, decline and dissolution. Indeed,
the very first words the Man sings convey his youthful stage: "Ia, 0 ja! Das
Bliihen; 0 Sehnsucht!" (Yes, oh yes! The blossoming; oh longing!). Likewise,
other stages are represented: development, by the idea which appears to the Man
and is realized in the single hammer blow; decline, by loss of the Woman;
dissolution, through death. But from this basic plan of stages in recurrence, what
views of cyclical history does the opera represent?
Nietzsche's conception of cyclical history expressed as eternal recurrence
turns on the question below:
This life, as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live
once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing
new in it ... Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your
teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once
experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered
him: "You are a god, and never have I heard anything more
divine!"30
As Walter Kaufmann explains, the doctrine of eternal recurrence assumes the
importance of Nietzsche's central teaching not as an idea per se, but as an
experience -- "the supreme experience of a life unusually rich in suffering, pain,

29Schoenberg - Kandinsky Correspondence, pp. 54-55.

30Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science, 341.

342
and agony. "3 1 But if a "tremendous moment" can outweigh the "suffering, pain
and agony," then, as Kaufmann goes on to quote Nietzsche: "Only as an aesthetic
phenomenon is this world justified. "32 This could be the Man's slogan too. And it
provides the basis for determining whether one reacts to eternal recurrence as a
blessing or a curse. Clearly, the beauty of the Woman, and the beauty of the
diadem are motivations, and earthly motivations at that. But as Kaufmann warns,
there is no moral dimension to the doctrine of eternal recurrence)3 Nietzsche's
eternal recurrence, as Kaufmann points out, is based on the psychology of
"affective response."34 Neither Nietzsche's nor the Man's concerns are about
morality. The chorus of Six Men and Six Women are concerned, if not explicitly
with morality, with spirituality.
Die gliickliche Hand is Schoenberg's early attempt to represent the rift
between a purely worldly view of history, and a view in which the spiritual is in
some way integral to the historical process. The chorus advocates the necessity of
the spiritual in the historical process, a process that has a cyclical character. This is
a viewpoint reminiscent of the Galician-lewish philosopher Nachman Krochmal
(1785-1840), a highly influential maskil, proponent of the Haskalah

31Walter Kaufmann, Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psycholo~ist. Antichrist, 4th

ed. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1974), p. 323.
32Ibid.
33Ibid., p. 322.
34Ibid.

343
(Enlightenment), who met the philosophical challenge historicism posed to Judaism
as a faith, by formulating a philosophy of history influenced by Vico, Kant and
HegeL Though Schoenberg may not have been directly aware of Krochmal's
philosophy, he was deeply aware of the problem on which Krochmal worked, a
problem no less pressing in Schoenberg's day: what has Judaism to say to those
who hold modem attitudes about history? In Krochmal's time, revitalization was
needed to respond to those who would abandon classical Judaism. In
Schoenberg's time. revitalization was needed to respond to those abandoning
Judaism altogether. Such periodic turns away from the spiritual. to put it in general
terms, might have inclined both Krochmal and Schoenberg toward a cyclical
historical model.
Nathan Rotenstreich, in his analysis of Krochmal, elucidates the decisive
difference between Vico's influential conception of historical cycles and
Krochmal's.35 That difference lies in the role divine intervention plays in the
cyclical process. Cyclic patterns inhere naturally in the historical process according
to Vico, whereas for Krochmal, creativity is spent within the historical cycle and
cannot be recovered through an act of will. Periodically a new cycle. initiated by a
spark of creativity from a source of "transcendent spirituality." will burgeon and
effect a "continuous renaissance. "36 Without intermittent infusions of creativity
into the historical process from a transcendent source, phases of dissolution would
35Nathan Rotenstreich, Jews and German Philosophy: The Polemics of
Emancipation (New York: Schocken Books, 1984), pp. 136-59.
36Ibid. p. 149-50.

344
lead to an ultimate end and disappearance. One fmds in the cyclical pattern, due to
its dependence on absolute spirit, only ostensible but not fmal ends. The stuff of
Volks&eist - trends, styles. attitudes, customs - is transitory; it naturally tends to
degenerate. Reinvigoration comes only through reliance upon transcendent
spirituality.
Schoenberg shares the same outlook except that in Nietzsche ultimate goal
of worldliness is represented as unaltered repetition. which for Schoenberg was
pretty much synonymous with death. In absolute repetition the historical process
cannot advance without a continuous and synergetic integration of self-knowledge
and spirituality. Despite this apparent conflation of Nietzsche and Krochmal.
Schoenberg's chorus of twelve ultimately stands with Krochmal.
As an artist. the Man creates the diadem from unfinished materials. This too
has a historical dimension with respect to the simultaneity of the
noncontemporaneous: the diadem exists as a complete idea, while the materials
exist simultaneously in a raw state. In a single hammer blow that reverberates
through mm. 115-124, the future imprints itself upon the past. It is an act that
confirms the chorus's belief that there is a divine spark within the Man who would
act in imitatio Dei. Yet following this artistic and destructive act (the anvil is split
by the hammer blow). the color crescendo begins during which different colored
lights depict a storm, though the Man feels these lights emanate from him. Mystical
states can be brought on through the contemplation of colors when the colors are

345
used to enhance the words that denote the attributes of God.37 Without words,
without concepts, the Man contemplates himself in colors; his solipsistic tendencies
come to the fore. His language competence seems to dissolve as a result of this
experience. When he sees the Woman after the stoan his utterance appears as an
exercise in verb conjugation: "You, you! You are mine ... you were rnine ... she was
mine ... " (mm. 174-177). Each of these outburst becomes so magnified in range,
that he can hardly continue.38 The entire statement is associated with his
expression of longing when he first sang (m. 34) (Ex. 5.5).

Example 5.5
Die gliicklich.e Hand, Op. 18
DL.34

-1

du bist mei n...

-3

du warst mei n...

sie war mein ...

His final words are: "Beauty - stay with me -!" In this the Man is much like the
artist, or "one who is called" (Ein Berufener), of Die lakobsleiter who thought he
beheld the beauty of the world and sought to capture it, but was actually blind to it.

37Moshe Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives (New Haven: Yale University

Press, 1988), p. 103-11. Idel discusses "visualization of colors and Kabbalistic
prayer."
38Cf. Fig. 4.3.

346
As Gabriel rebukes him: "Self-sufficiency keeps you warm. Heathen, you have
beheld nothing."39 Schoenberg savages the "one who is called" with a searing
parody of Richard Strauss's musical heroics. In Die gliickliche Hand, there is no
such confrontation; as we noted earlier, the Man and chorus are mutually alienated.
This matter returns us to the musical-formal problem over the two conflicting
perspectives by which time attains its shape.
Earlier we suggested that Schoenberg represents the stages of the Man's life
through the succession of situations which occur in scenes two and three. If we
listen to just these two scenes from the viewpoint of the Man who is conscious only
during these two scenes, his life has a deflnite linear trajectory. The orchestral parts
of scene two are a reservoir of melodic ideas fonning the background for the Man's
flrst halting utterances which increase in range from a second <Gb, E, F> (m. 30)
to the flrst extreme of a ninth, rniddle-C to the B an octave below (m. 47) and an
important pitch in the articulation of two of the preceding phrases (m. 34 and m.

45). Pushing ever higher into his range as he courts the Woman, by the end of the
tirst scene he believes he has satisfled his longing and now possesses the Woman
forever. His sense of triumph is projected through the inversion of the "longing"
motif, the descending <Eb, 0, B> (m. 34), which occurs triple-forte in the
trombones, an ascending <Ab, A, C>. The Man's triumph is still equivocal, and in
the orchestral passage work there is some reverberation of the chorus's laughter.
Nevertheless, the flrst stage in the Man's life is in his mind a successful resolution

39Arnold Schoenberg, Die lakobsleiter, trans. Lionel Salter, Sony CD,

SMK 48462, 1993.

347
of his first sense of longing.
Scene three begins with music of unmistakably developmental character: a
theme with the character of a relentless ostinato that takes off from the oftenreferenced low B of the Man's first phrases. He enters this scene with the heads of
two Turks dangling from his belt. As he takes command of the stage. the idea
appears to him that will be realized in the hammer blow. This is followed by the
storm (the color crescendo) and the reversal by which he makes a second attempt to
capture the Woman. In decline after the storm, the Man realizes that the Woman is
not his, nor was she ever. Yet, there is no musical indication that the Man is
flagging or faltering; there is no indication that the animal that will sink its teeth into
the back of his neck is his imminent destiny. And there is little indication that the
music is turning back on itself; the consister:tt use of motives and textures associated
with the Man do not occur for the sake of repetitiousness. The Man's is a short
life.
Scenes one and four, during which the Man lies dead, refute the linear goaldirected view of history and argue for the cyclic view. Though evident in the
Man's vocal part is the kind of linked motivic writing that permits concise
expression and denotes a developed consciousness, the multi-part choral writing
suggests a level of consciousness greatly elevated above that of the Man's. By
virtue of freedom of the many-voiced writing, the fluidity of the harmonies and
ambiguity of the declamation - spoken, sung, whispered, laughed - Schoenberg
conveys the sense of a higher perspective. Imitative techniques reminiscent of
antique practices only add a sense of the timelessness of this perspective. Stalemate

348
is the result since the Man is dead and oblivious of all of this.
The first of three Bb major-seventh chords occurs in m. 214 as if an answer
to the long section of dissolution (mm. 205-212) that accompanies the hyena's
sinking its teeth into the Man. It occurs again at m. 248 and fmally at m. 252 after
which it is followed by a three-measure coda. As the Man pursued the Woman his
vocal line was rich in major sevenths as were the orchestral melodies associated
with the Woman. In this light the chord is especially resonant and enables the opera
to end and yet to suggest all the cycles which are destined to follow. In its twentyminute time span, the opera yet invokes an immensely long and irony-laden
historical process.
Before turning to Vorgefiihl, the fourth of Schoenberg's Orchesterlieder,
Op. 22, we must note its resemblance to the color crescendo: both represent storms
as a metaphor for inward crises over temporal situatedness. Yet each work
represents the experience of these crises in a vastly different manner. The Man
believes the storm to be an externalization of inward creative processes which
emanate from him. Schoenberg belies the Man's belief through a musical texture
that is built up through ostinati and a persistent leading motive (Ex. 5.6).
Ultimately the passage conveys the deluded quality of the Man who trusts only
what he can touch:

349

Example 5.6
Die gliickliche Hand
Color crescelUio motif.
lIL.126
Fl.

$ 1 ~5nr
PP

IP

PP

IP

By contrast. Voriefiihl is intensely rich in thematic associations evolving in

continuous variation that represent the experience of time in flux at an altogether
deeper level of conscious.

N
Vorgefiihl. Cp. 22 No.4. In 1927, Musil eulogized Rilke thus:

.. .1 called Rilke a poet who leads us into the future. For it appears
that the development of the spirit, which seems to many today to be
in decline, but still must carry its equilibrium somewhere within
itself, will body forth this eqUilibrium as a dynamic one. We are not
to be called again to this or that specific ideological fixity, but to the
unfolding of the creation and possibilities of the spirit. In view of
such inner images, which arise out of Rilke's poems not like a
prophecy but as an anticipatory scent, it seems to me immaterial to
track down relationships of form or even derivations of form, or to
argue about the evaluation of individual elements.40
Rilke's "Das Buch der Bilder" (1906) answers to this description, especially the
two poems, Fortschritt and Vorgefiihl, that appear on facing pages of

4OMusil, Precision and Soul, pp. 248-9.

350
Schoenberg's personal copy of the Rilke.41 Texts and translations of the two
poems occur below:
"Fortschritt"
Und wieder rauscht mein tiefes Leben lauter,
als ob es jetzt in breitem Ufem ginge.
Immer verwandter werden mir die Dinge
und aile Bilder irnmer angeschauter.
Dem Namenlosen rohl ich mich vertrauter:
Mit meinen Sinnen, wie mit Vogeln, reiche
ich in die windigen Himmel aus der Eiche,
und in den abgebrochnen Tag der Teiche
sinkt, wie auf Fischen stehend, mein Gerohl.

"Moving Forward"
The deep parts of my life pour onward,
as if the river shores were opening out.
It seems that things are more like me now,
.
that I can see farther into paintings.
I feel closer to what language can't reach.
With my senses, as with birds, I climb
into the windy heaven, out of the oak,
and in the ponds broken off from the sky
my feeling sinks, as if standing on fishes.
"Vorgefiihl "
Ich bin wie eine Fahne von Femen umgeben.
Ich ahne die Winde, die kommen, und muB sie leben,
wabrend die Dinge unten sich noch nicht ruhren:
Die Tiiren schlieBen noch sanft und in den kaminen ist Stille;
die Fenster zittem noch nicht, und der Staub ist
noch schwer.

4 1Rainer Maria Rilke, Das Buch der Bilder, Dritte sehr vermehrte Ausgabe
(Berlin: Arel luncker Verlag), pp. 54-55. Archives of the Arnold Schoenberg
Institute.

351
Da weiB ich die Stiinne schon und bin erregt wie das Meer.
U nd breite mich aus und falle in mich hinein
und werfe mich ab und bin ganz allein
in dem groBen Sturm.
"Sense of Something Coming"
I am like a flag in the center of open space.
I sense ahead the wind which is coming, and must live it through,
while the things of the world still do not move:
the doors still close softly, and the chimneys are full of silence,
the windows do not rattle yet, and the dust still lies down.
I already know the storm, and I am as troubled as the sea.
I leap out, and fall back,
and throw myself out, and am absolutely alone
in the great storm.
Nothing in either Erwartung, which struggles to differentiate narrative from
historical truth, or Die gliickliche Hand, which represents an all-consuming yet
illusory present, conveys the experience of inner consciousness at the level of
awareness Rilke presents it. In Jonathan Dunsby's view: "The spiritual message
of Rilke's poem was a realistic vision of the future. "42 It is the storm itself, a
common metaphor for war and battle, that is the portended event in the introductory
measures of the song according to Dunsby's Churchillian reading.43 I would
modify Dunsby's interpretation. Rilke's poem attempts to suggest the experience

42Jonathan Dunsby, "Schoenberg's Premonition, Op. 22, No.4, In

Retrospect," Journal of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute, 1 (1978): 137.
43Schoenberg composed this song during July 1916 as the allies advanced
along the Sommes. Churchill's history of World War II begins with The Gathering
Storm. In a different vein, popular lyrics commonly describe the weather as a
reflection of an emotional state in songs such as Gershwin's" A Foggy Day" and
Ellington's "I Got It Bad." Rilke's sense of the "great storm," while mildly
resonant with these other metaphorical uses, transcends them.

352
of one who has a realistic vision of the future. Without disclosing the specific
content of the future, that is, without saying what will or ought to happen, Rilke
discloses what it is like to have a premonitory consciousness, and to be able to
transcend the everyday by virtue of inwardness. The great storm is not a discrete
event, but the spirit of history to which the subject of the poem is inwardly attuned.
To make the relationship between inwardness and the historical process manifest,
these poems project the consciousness of inwardness outward onto nature. But
Rilke's inward landscape cannot ground itself in the outer landscape at all. Air,
water and fIre - the elements of the storm - by virtue of their dynamism. contrast
with the relative inertness of the earth which is shaped by the other three. The flag
resides in the center of open space, not on some craggy and weathered hillside.
The "things of the world" -- doors, chimneys, windows, dust -- are relatively inert
without the storm. Rilke's subject is not one of the "things" of the world, but
rather an elemental force like the winds and waters which, unlike the landscapes,
are not bearers of memory. Landscapes are etched records of the aftermath of
wind, water, fIre, life; storms are portentous. Reminiscent of the theme we
discussed in chapter two, these poems associate the dynamism of inwardness with
the awareness of an ever expanding future.
But there is a specifIc reason for looking at Rilke's poems vis-a.-vis
landscape as genre. The very opening gesture of Schoenberg's setting of
Vorgefiihl transforms unmistakable descending hom fifths - in E major, the same
key in which they occur in Schubert's song Der Lindenbaum - in ways that both
associate and differentiate them from a central topos of German Lied. Charles

353
Rosen has discussed the association of landscape, memory and distance in which
the hom call is a key signal of manifold time and place.44 In Erwartun~, conflict
within a condensed multiple time scale (one which includes imaginary time)
becomes the source of enonnous emotional upheaval. In Vorgefiihl, the projection
of manifold time adduces a persistent past that constrains the present while the
subject is obsessed with the simultaneous awareness of a noncontemporaneous
future. By reversing the descending melodic contour of the hom fifths, the
ascendin.g contour bears a very different affect, not quite of hunting horns, but of
something triumphant (Ex. 5.7a and b). The ascent retains the suggestion of the
distant, while the triadic outlining of <G#, B, E> in the violins (mm. 1-2)
accentuates E, even though the E itself becomes subordinate in duet with G-natural
a minor third above. Schoenberg represents a sense of time quite apart from either
of the traditional connotations because of the way he handles the implications of the
triadic ascent whose line is polyphonically hijacked and variously defonned in
subsequent appearances. Coinciding with Rilke, Schoenberg tells us what it is like
to be Cassandra or Lovborg or Rilke and have an inner experience of how a
possible future can overtake a stable present.45

44Charles Rosen, The Romantic Generation (Cambridge: Harvard

University Press, 1995), pp. 116-236.
45Henrik Ibsen, "Hedda Gabler," Classic Theatre (Boston: Little, Brown
and Co., 1975), p. 471. Eilert Lovborg, an Ibsen character, is a philosopher of
history who covers his topic not only up to the present, but into the future.

354
Example 5.7

VorgefUhl Op. 221 No.4

$ .. ij
"i

1. 2. V1ns .

1-2

lI,i

,--3--,

4-5

,.,~~ J i ~~ 1J J _J 1-0
L ____ J

JU J pi

r-3--, .-3--,

L ____ J

Ich bin 'Hie ei-ne Feh-ne von Fer - nen um-ge-ben.

und 'Her - fe mich 8b _

......und bi n genz 81 - lei n_ in dem gro - Ben

Sturm.

Malcolm MacDonald describes

Vor~efiihl

as: "... motivically dense and

355
tightly threaded, rhythmically free and floating, subtler and more iridescent in color
than almost any other Schoenberg score.46 In general, these are attributes we
associate with Schoenberg's representation of historical consciousness on account
of the ways in which they engage memory and imagination. Jonathan Dunsby
draws the connection more directly to consciousness of time by indicating that the
melodic setting of "... groBen Sturm" (Ex. 5.7i) was portended in the introduction
(Ex. 5.Th); the notion of premonition is thereby inherent in the form of the piece.
Examples 5.7e, 5.7f, 5.7g and 5.7h show several versions of the "... groBen
Sturm" motive which occur throughout the song. Dunsby then indicates how the
first vocal phrase (Ex. 5.7d) seems to emerge from both the pitches of the 'cello
line (Ex. 5.7c) as well as the major third [E-G#] of the introduction which sets
"... von Femen... " (Ex. 5.7d). We can describe this emergence as a pitch rotation
of the cello line <1), F, Db, Eb> to the vocal line <Eb, D, F, Db> which then
continues to <E, G#>. Still, Dunsby's prolegomenon to an analysis of this work is
concerned with seeking a certain consistency of text setting within a musical
framework informed by Schoenberg's writings on the matter. Dunsby does not
acknowledge sufficiently Schoenberg's emphasis on the overriding centrality of the
vocal line even though he concludes in his study of the manuscript sources that the
vocal line was the first written work on the composition. We are concerned

46Malcolm MacDonald, Schoenberg (London: Dent, 1976), p. 180. See

also Arnold Schoenberg, "Analysis of the Four Orchestral Songs, Op. 22," trans.
Claudio Spies, Perspectives on Schoenberg and Stravinsky (New York: Norton,
1972), p. 43. MacDonald's assessment accords with Schoenberg's own with
regard to matters of orchestration. MacDonald also raises the theme of the
heterogeneity of tone which we take up in the final chapter.

356
primarily with the representation of historical consciousness, and must frame our
questions somewhat differently. In other words, we consider Vorgefiihl not only a
setting of Rilke's poem, but a representation of the interior processes and
experiences which underlie the poem's imagery.
Rilke's poem leaves a vital question unanswered: is there or is there not
anything new under the sun? A non-historical view of time represents the
uniformitarian position. D' Arcy Thompson, reacting skeptically to adaptationist
"just-so" narratives which hypothesize accounts to justify biological modification,
writes:
The forces that bring about the sphere, the cylinder or the ellipsoid
are the same yesterday and to-morrow. A snow-crystal is the same
to-day as when the first snows fell. The physical forces which
mould the forms of Orbulina, or of Astrorhiza... to-day were still the
same, and for aught we have reason to believe the physical
conditions under which they worked were not appreciably different,
in that yesterday which we call the Cretaceous epoch; or, for aught
we know, throughout all that duration of time which is marked, but
not measured, by the geological record. 47
This view, quite static from a historian's perspective, recalls a statement from the
English geologist James Hutton: "Time, which measures everything in our idea,
and is often deficient to our schemes, is to nature endless and as nothing. "48 The
storm in this sense as a metaphor is limited. Rilke's storm is not a cyclical
inevitability, but rather an unleashing of historical forces at a particular historical
moment. In contrast to the uniformitarian view which equates past and future, note
470' Arcy Thompson, On Growth and Form, p. 201.
48James Hutton. "Theory of the Earth," Transactions of the Royal Society
of Edinburgh, vol. 1, pt. 2, I, p. 215.

357
how differently Collingwood writes, summarizing Bergson, about time as "a
manifold of parts which interpenetrate one ~other, the present including the past"
comparable to the "total experience of hearing a tune. "49 Stillness, in Rilke's
poem, suggests that time is not manifold. Through sheer inertia the present is
neutralized by the past. Only in the subject of the poem's consciousness is time
manifold, and the future coexists with the past.
If art, as Schoenberg says, means new art, then the unifonnitarian view of
the stonn must be anathema to him. Rather the eventuality of the stonn is a massive
intrusion. in the sense F. J. Teggart describes, "affecting conditions in which the
processes manifested in 'fixity' have been operative without disturbance."so For
the artist the experience of the stonn is a mode of being. Hans Andersen's tale of
the red shoes describes the experience of th~ relentlessness of the artist's creative
consciousness. It is an experience without closure, without resolution, and thus
makes it seem all the more impossible to conceive of a tonal setting for this poem.
A chord in which all the themes can resonate in hannonic space is the only way the
experience Rilke tries to convey can be summarized.
Drawing from four of the main features of the experience of historical
consciousness we have associated with the poem, let us consider a view of the
piece based on these features:
1) Intrusion - Teggart conceptualizes the organization of the world
49Collingwood, The Idea of HistoQ', p. 187.
SOFrederick J. Teggart, TheoQ' and Processes of HistoQ' (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1977), p. 151.

358
and its social structures in terms of a series of concentric circles.
Changes in the wider circle - the nation - intrude upon the
narrower circle - the local community. Adapting this standpoint.
we can derme an intrusion as an event that occurs when one form of
organization intrudes upon another.
2) Telescoping - There is a dualism in the metaphorical use of this
tenn which suggests both potentiality. projecting to the future. and
concentration. sustaining the past. In either sense the metaphor
should not suggest detenninism. Collingwood uses this metaphor to
describe time and our consciousness of it in terms of the experience
of hearing a melody in which each new tone contains the past tones.
Schoenberg's art of melodic construction heightens the sense of this
metaphor through the technique of imbrication which can elaborate a
motive while it avoids pitch repetition and phrase parallelisms. In
analogy with memory systems, the persistence of the motive
sustains the past, while elaboration and variation indicate the
potential to recreate the idea in new ways.
3) Variation - In Musil's words: "The fIrst principle of art is infInite
variation." According to Thompson, variation in form does not
necessarily entail an historical order. This is congenial to Musil's
idea of essayism which explores possibilities and seeks to report
immediate experience without cushioning it in terms of before,
during and after. This is not congenial to Humboldt who requires

359
narrative to represent the inner causal nexus underlying the
contingencies that produce a particular event.
4) Resonance - By this tenn I want to suggest the engagement of the
work with the listener's memory. Or to put it another way,
resonance is the experience of a work as it overflows the temporal
boundaries of its "immediate content."51 This too accords with
Musil's idea of essayism. I use the concept of resonance in contrast
with that of resolution. Resolution is the leading experience in tonal
music, rather like the experience of resolution in a story. We do not
feel satisfied with a story until we know how it comes out. The
experience of atonal music is less like reading a story, more like
reading an essay. Just as the initial themes of an essay grow more
resonant in the mind through associations, shifts in perspective and
intimations of limitless variation, so too do musical themes.
Schoenberg's practice of recalling an opening motif at a work's
conclusion produces not so much a sense of closure, but a sensation
of resonance. Resolution, which depends heavily on syntax (chord
grammar), and resonance, which does not, both seem natural to
musical experience.
As three of these features -- intrusion, telescoping, variation - become meaningful

in terms of memory, we cannot ignore the idea of resonance and produce an

51John Searle, The Rediscovery of the Mind (Cambridge: The MIT Press,
1992), p. 137.

360
analysis composed of isolated examples. Concentrating on the vocal line, we shall
attempt to describe the way it evolves in terms of each of these features. 52 Since
key musical relationships are portended and established in the orchestral
introduction, we shall begin there.
Occurring amidst the unfolding "horn fifths" in the violins, the interval [Eb0] (m. 2), drawn from the very distant melodic figure in the cellos, intrUdes upon
the presentation of E major. This intrUsive major seventh, or ll-semitone interval,
reasserts itself immediately as [Ab-G] in flute and first violins respectively. Still the
goal of the hom fifths is reached at the same time as [Ab-E] in flute and second
violins respectively even if besmirched by the G-natural above. The intrUsion
overtakes the triadic melodic line of hom fifths <.0#, B, E> and produces the line
<G#, B, 0, G-natural> instead; G-natural will become the climactic pitch of the
vocal line (m. 24) preceded by the variant <Ab-B-F>. Both the beginning of the
vocal line, which has its source in the cello part, and the end of the vocal line,
which has its source in the violin's corrupted triadic ascent, are latent in the
introduction.
On the one hand, we can show that the vocal line's development is already
well determined on account of how it sustains the melodic idea presented in the
introduction and how it must fulfill its implications. On the other hand, we can
show that within motivically-driven constraints the line evolves in a series of rather
free variations. As we elaborate each case the tensions between development and

52See Dunsby, "Schoenberg's Premonition." Some relationships between

the vocal line and the orchestral accompaniment are elucidated in Dunsby.

361

variation become more poignant.

The Case For Development. Mirroring the poem's structure of two
unequally long stanzas, the song is articulated into two parts (mm. 4-14 and mm.
14-24). As portended by the introduction, a high G-natural is the goal tone of the
melodic line. Phrase endings, though minimally articulated, follow a path to G.
Looking at the last pitch that sets the last syllable of each line we can follow the
ascent: first stanza line 1 - C#, line 2 - D, line 3 - E, lines 4 and 5 - F, second
stanza line 1 - Ab, lines 2 and 3 - G. It is an ascent prefigured by the lowest and
highest pitches of the introduction, low Db and high G, and one which resonates in
other melodic occurrences of the tritone such as in the [C#-G] in the final chord in
the low strings. A tritone [B-F] also concludes the first stanza. These same pitches
[B-F] are recalled to precede the climactic high G, a recollection that suggests an
antecedent-consequent structure to the song as a whole.
In the illustration of the vocal line, pitches that are inversionally related
around the Eb-D axis have been beamed together (Ex. 5.8). Though other axes of
inversion might be suggested in the introduction, frequent symmetrical contrary
motion between voices indicates the centrality of the Eb-D axis. As an organizing
principle, the intervals entailed by the Eb-D axis are quite comprehensive in
elucidating key intervals that define registraI spaces and give rise to other like
intervals that may occur at various pitch levels. The intervals beamed together are
thus: [Eb-D], [C#-E], [C-F], [B-F#] [Bb-G] and [A-G#]. Visually, this beaming
has a filtering effect, like staining a microscope slide to enhance contrast. In a
general way, the very first phrase of the vocal line expands symmetrically <Eb,D>

362
to <F,C> to <G#.A> with the narrower <E.C#> interposed. These intervals
become decisive for phrase structure. Each phrase setting the first stanza has a
rather prominent minor second emulating the opening <Eb-D>. some intermediate
intervallic expansion. and a descending minor seventh. like a cadence formula, to
attenuate the phrase ending. The ending of the vocal line itself is so startling in part
because of the setting of

II . . .

IU0Ben Sturm" which creates a strong end accent on the

minor seventh without attenuation.

The case for development outlines a general goal-oriented plan for the
structure of the vocal line. but it cannot account for contextual details: why do
variant forms occur in the order they do? These are the questions for which
Thompson found it so difficult to account under the assumption that a finite set of
conditions run endlessly more or less in a cycle.
The Case For Contextual Variation. Despite the regularities of design
highlighted by the developmental view. the sense of temporal flux in the song is
overwhelming and arises from the idea that each phrase is its own creation and not
schematically determined by notions of parallel phrase construction. For example,
we hear the beginning of the second phrase, "Ich ahne die Winde," as a variation of
the beginning of the first phrase, "Ich bin wie eine ... " but not as a parallelism (Ex.
5.8). The reminiscence has a formal basis in operations on melodic segments:
m. 4 " ... bin wie eine ... " <D. F, Db, C>. I Db (C#), unordered
m.5 " ... nen um&eben."

<A. C, D, C#>. T2, ordered

m. 6 "Ich ahne die ... "

<8, 0, E. D#>

The melody for "Ich ahne die ... " is more comprehensively understood as a

363
transposition of the last four pitches of the fIrst phrase transposed up two
semitones. The [Eb-D] semitone parallelism between m. 4 ("Ich bin ... It) m. 6
(ltahne die ... "), since the segment from m. 4 does not include Eb, is contingent
upon the selection of not only what features will be sustained from the fIrst phrase
to the second, but how they will be remembered and recreated. I would call this an
example of telescoping by which the beginning of the second phrase sustains the
end of the fIrst phrase, and the end of the fIrst phrase reflects its beginning. The
process yields a variant of the fIrst phrase around the contextually important interval
[Eb-DJ. Taking the view that the phrases of the fIrst stanza relate as free variations,
and the idea that projecting possible futures lies in cultivating the inner, let us try to
elucidate some of the relationships.

die Fenster zittern noch nicht und der Steub ist noch sch'Wer.
2nd Stanza
I B'B
W3

..... ~. .~
r?

rr-=t'-'J.-.!!!!!FJ~~J

! ifl ~; #.h;w1

Da 'WeiB ich die StUrme schon und bin

!~t~tl~B
\~ h.
~

f~J ~

~J ~

r~

E'r

er-regt

'Wie des Meer.

Piii
J,IidI

~Jj:l
Wi" . ,. 3

Und breite mich aus und falle

fir;:
qJ. ~. ( J
!
,r
or q.

in mich hinein

::h -~ ~~ II

lie:

f
r~~~::;~:::::::.~~r

und 'Werfe mich eb und bin genz ellein in dem gro - Ben Sturm.

365

The fll"St phrase of the vocal line is the most orderly in its gradual expansion
of linked trichords, orderly but not mechanically so. Each new pitch arrives to vary
the second-cum-third prototype of the fll"St three pitches. Variations in the
succeeding phrases can never be as gradual since the interactions among phrases
become more complex. In the fll"St phrase, melodic major thirds occur at "wie
eine ... " <F, Db, C> and "von Femen ... " <E, G#, A>. Recalling the interval [EG#] of the opening, the sening of "von Femen ... " stands out as the peak of the fIrst
phrase. The <F, Db, C> at "wie eine ... " is less symbolic, more functional as in
the retrograde setting of "Winde. die ... " <8#, C#, F> which occurs in the second
phrase. In this niche the retrograde form fIts far bener than the original form which
would have resulted in an awkward line and an undesirable minor triad <F, C#,
B#, Eb, G>. The line of the second phrase .continues by linking thirds together,
<8#, C#, F, Eb, G, F#, A>. A minor third deforms the chain, but it is needed to
provide the optimal pitch from which to leap down a seventh. This downward leap
[A-Bb] introduces the inversional interval [G-Bb] which will become increasingly
prominent. Were Schoenberg to have used the major third <F#, A#>, a downward
leap of a seventh would have duplicated B the fll"St pitch of the phrase, losing the
surprise in the seemingly ascending shape of the phrase. To reiterate the point, the
second phrase is very much composed of the fll"St phrase yet without redundancy.
"Unten" is the operative concept of the third phrase. Barely articulated in
the vocal line, the beginning of the third phrase forms a motivic link, an
enjambment, with the last pitch of the second yielding <0, C#, F>, an exact
transposition of the beginning of the vocal line down one semitone. This phrase

366
offers another version of the fIrst with an embellished variant of [D-Eb] and the
descending <f, D, B> extracted from "Ich bin wie eine Fahne... " This descent
prepares "un ten " which is set off by a descending tritone in contrast to the
ascending tritone that set off the ascending "Fahne von Femen." In tum, the end of
the third phrase fonns a motivic link to the fourth whose opening four pitches

<f##, G#, D, Bb> are an exact inversion around A of "Fahne die Femen ... " <B,
Bb, E, G#> from the fIrst phrase. Whereas the vocal line for "Fahne die Femen ... "
made a striking contrast with the beginning of the fIrst phrase, the transformation of
"Fahne die Femen ... " into "Die Tiiren schlie8en ... " emulates the beginning of the
fIrst phrase with an ascending semitone motion followed by a descent. The fourth
phrase continues via major thirds, a motif of each previous phrase comprising an
interesting little segment, <C, E, 0#, B> which undergoes a change in pitch order
at the end of the phrase, <C, B, 0#, E>. The fIrst segment emphasizes thirds. Its
varied repetition emphasizes seconds and provides the pitches for the required
descending major seventh [D#-E] to close the phrase.
The fIfth phrase which closes the fIrst stanza is the most distant variation.
Generally, there is a sense of expansion through widening intervals outlined by a
motion from [G-Bb] to [Ab-A] to (F-C] and filled motivically by variations on the
second-cum-third. However, the lower register outlined by [F#-B] is something of
a vacuum. At the end of the phrase the starkness of the ascent <8, F> contrasts
with the two earlier occurrences of the interval descending <f, B> (m. 4 and m. 8)
which participated in the process of motivic elaboration.
Schoenberg's setting of the second stanza takes a tum not only to the

367
dramatic, providing a climax (m. 18) and denouement (nun. 23-24), but also to the
representational, offering a vocal line that undulates as irregularly as a troubled sea.
Though the four lines of text are set as an overarching anacrustic gesture to the fmal
word "Stunn," each line entails a new variation freely associated with earlier
variations. Phrase one of the second stanza fills the registral space defmed by the
ascending <B, F> (rnm. 13-14) with intervals which again balance around the [DEb] axis. Recalling the first phrase of the first stanza, <0#, D-natural> occupies its
customary prominent place at the beginning of the phrase only now followed by a
very wide leap up. What follows arises from a dovetailing of the two stanzas
forming the motive <F, C#, E> (" ...schwer. Da weiB ... " rnm. 14-15) which
occurs in retrograde <E, C#, F> to set " ... Stiinne schon ... " (rnm. 16-17). A shift
occurs in the remainder of the phrase to the inversional axis around B; this shift is
depicted in the illustration. Given the shift toward the upper register a shift in the
center is unavoidable. The choice of an inversional center around B was intimated
by the intervals [E-G#] and [E-G-natural] which balance around B in the
introduction. At the end of the first phrase of the second stanza, we must note the
absence of the habitual closing gesture of the descending major seventh. Instead
there is the exact opposite, an ascent of a minor ninth <F#, G> (m. 18) leading to
the climactic Ab. As if to compensate, th~ next phrase features two descending
major sevenths, the first with pitches we expect at the beginning of phrases, <DEb>, the second with pitches <G#-A-natural> where we expect, just before the end
of the phrase. Another shift of inversional center occurs in this phrase to the axis
that maps B onto Bb. As the alternate illustration shows, all pitches can be linked

368
with respect to their inversional partners around this axis (Ex. 5.9).

Example 5.9
VomefUhl, Op. 22, No.4
I BIB"
. . . 19~O
II

'"

.iii

ifi

The final phrase of the vocal line which sets the last two lines of the poem
begins with the same pitch-class, F# (Gb), as the phrase before, just an octave
lower. It recalls the very first phrase through its three-note chromatic descent,
tritone ascent and major-seventh descent. Recalling <0, F, Db> (m. 1 and m. 4),
the motive <Db, D, F> provides the impetus for the sudden ascent to G as it did in
the introduction. It is a denouement in the sense that the vocal line proffers a
solution as to how the heterogenous elements of the introduction may be
synthesized. It is the surprising real climax to the piece in that all the weight of the
piece seems to come crashing upon the word "Stuan." The orchestra responds
with a flurry of gestures associated with "horn fifths." Yet a new misremembered
version of the opening "horn fifths" which betokens the transformation in our
orientation becomes the closing gesture in the clarinets. The third [Eb-Gb]
descends via the sixth [Db-Bb] to the chalumeau third [D-F] as evidence of the
aftermath of the initial intrusion of [Eb-D].
Little sense of resolution emanates from the final chord, just a sense of
resonance. <Eb-D-F> assumes the highest position in the chord as a verticalization
of the very beginning of the vocal line. [E-C#], the interval so prominent at the

369

beginning of the second stanza holds the bass. The center <G-C-Eb>, enhances the
sense of resolution required by the tritone <8, F> on which the last line of the first
stanza closes. It is as if Schoenberg were trying to capture the resonance of the
whole work in the one chord by negating its single bow to nihilism.
"Memory," it has been argued, "privileges piety and consensus over
freethinking and criticism. It tends to foreclose discussion rather than to free and
encourage it. "53 If memory is predicated solely on the basis of repetition, then one
must concede the point. Where memory persists in the absence of literal repetition
and in the presence of variation and association instead, then we become conscious
of memory as a creative process. And we begin to get a feeling for Rilke's memory
of events that have yet to be.

v
"There's been the growth of a strong sense of historical
consciousness recently."54 -- (Diary entry, 8 November 1940,
Warsaw Ghetto.)
A Survivor From Warsaw. "In einer Minute will ich wissen wieviele ich
zur Gaskammer abliefere! Abzablen!" (In one minute I want to know how many I
will deliver to the gas chamber! Count!) This line of text points to the work of total
annihilation and to its enabling attitude: the depersonalization of mass death

53Arno J. Mayer, "Memory and History: On the Poverty of Remembering

and Forgetting the Judeocide," Radical HistoQ' Review 56 (1993): 7.
54Emmanuel Ringelblum, The Journal of Emmanuel Rineelblum, ed. and
trans. Jacob Sloan (New York: Schocken Books, 1958), p. 82.

370
through the dehumanization of European Jewish life. This line of text is unlike any
ever set by Schubert, by which I mean to reiterate Alvin Rosenfeld's point: "... the
addition to our vocabulary of the very word Auschwitz [or Gaskammerl means that
today we know things that before could not even be imagined."55 Indeed,
Schoenberg did not even set this line. How could he? It is devoid of music. There
is no rhythmic notation nor any expressive markings for its declamation. The
Narrator declaims it like any other order a field sergeant would bark (nun. 69-70).
Composed in 1947 only five years after the liquidation of the Warsaw Ghetto, A
Survivor from Warsaw is part of Holocaust literature both in the testimony it bears,
sacred in itself, and in its final religious address. And as part of Holocaust
literature, the work attempts to express "a new order of consciousness, a
recognizable shift in being" and to some degree bear the weight of this
transformation in historical consciousness. 56
A Survivor from Warsaw has these days been excluded from being either of
the two things that it is: a work of historical memory and a religious work, perhaps
Schoenberg's most religious work.57 Adorno, a devotee from whom Schoenberg
has been inadequately defended, removed A Survivor from Warsaw from

55Alvin Rosenfeld, A Double DyinC: Reflections on Holocaust Literature

(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1980), p. 13.
56Ibid., p. 13.
57As the problem we are addressing is one of criticism and reception than of
purely musical details, the approach will be comparative with respective to similar
works rather than analytical. This seems justified by the work's current status.

371
consideration as Holocaust literature through a lamentable remark in reference to the
work: "The so-called artistic representation of naked bodily pain of victims felled
by rifle butts, contains, however remote, the potentiality of wringing pleasure from
it. "58 For Schoenberg beauty was neither the source nor goal of his artistic
enterprise which was if anything uncompromising in its refusal to pander to
aesthetic pleasure. However, Schoenberg did admit that: "It might and does occur
that in spite of an occupation in quite a different direction the complete work
produces a feeling of beauty in a listener."59 In a later essay, Adorno denied the
sort of aesthetic pleasure he claimed could be derived from the work while shifting
his listener's perspective to that of the composer:
Oratorio and Biblical opera are outweighed by the tale of the
Survivor from Warsaw, which lasts only a few minutes; in this
piece, Schoenberg, acting on his own, suspends the aesthetic sphere
through the recollection of experiences which are inaccessible to
art ... Horror has never rung as true in music, and by articulating it
music regains its redeeming power through negation. 60 (Emphasis
mine.)
But the damage was done. With the view Adorno expressed in "Engagement"
(1965) as his basis, Lawrence Langer contrasts a triumphalist interpretation of

58T. W. Adorno, "Engagement," Noten zur Literatur ill (Frankfurt am

Main: Suhrkamp Verlag, 1965), pp. 125-6, 127. Quoted in translation by
Lawrence L. Langer, The Holocaust and the Litercuy Ima&ination (New Haven:
Yale University Press, 1975), p. 2.
59 Arnold Schoenberg, Notebook III (1940s), unpublished, quoted in Jean
Christensen, "The Spiritual and Material in Schoenberg's Thinking," Music and
Letters 65 (1984): 341-2.
6OT. W. Adorno, "Arnold Schoenberg 1874-1951," Prisms, trans. Samuel
M. Weber (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1967), pp. 171-2.

372
Schoenberg's composition with a work such as Picasso's Guemica:
But an essential characteristic of Picasso's painting, as of almost
all [Holocaust] literature.. .is not the transfiguration of empirical
reality (a term perhaps appropriate for liThe Survivors of Warsaw ")
(sic), but its disfiguration, the conscious and deliberate alienation of
the reader's sensibilities from the world of the usual and familiar,
with an accompanying infiltration into the work of the grotesque, the
senseless, and the unimaginable, to such a degree that the possibility
of aesthetic pleasure as Adorno conceives of it is intrinsically
eliminated - such a sense of disfiguration has always governed my
response to Picasso's Guernica. 61
Hans Stuckenschmidt likewise misinterprets the work in terms of transfiguration
and triumphalism when he writes:
The work has a spontaneous effect of arousing feelings, it goes
beyond the graveness of the dark scene in an immediate way so that
it works as a release in its heroic conclusion; a harsh musical
reflection from days in which the sun seemed to be
covered...Beethoven aroused similar feelings in the prison scene in
Fidelio. But there at least the trumpet of salvation could sound,
which was denied to the victims of this modem apocalypse. 62
Stuckenschmidt's comparison to a universalistic work like Beethoven's Fidelio is
altogether inappropriate except in pointing out that the comparison fails. Even the
act of Kiddush ha-Shem (martyrdom, literally "Sanctification of the Divine Name")
represented by A Survivor based on the model of Rabbi Akiba ben Joseph's
martyrdom is to some degree an inadequate analogy. In the aftermath of the second
61Lawrence L. Langer, The Holocaust and the Literary Irna~ination (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1975), pp. 2-3. See also Steven S. Schwarzschild,
"The Legal Foundation of Jewish Aesthetics," Journal of Aesthetic Education IX,
No.1, (January 1975): 29-42. The very qualities Langer ascribes to Guemica are
the same qualities of abstraction that Schwarzschild indicates are required by Jewish
law.
62H. H. Stuckenschmidt, Arnold Schoenber~: His Life and Work, trans.
Humphrey Searle (London: John Calder, 1977), p. 486.

373
revolt against Rome in 135 B.C.E., Rome condemned Rabbi Akiba, who was the
foremost teacher of his day and a key supporter of the rebellion, to be flayed alive
for his refusal to stop teaching. Rabbi Akiba recited the Shema Yisrael with his
dying breath as did the martyrs of Warsaw depicted in Schoenberg's composition.
However, Rome's intent was not to annihilate the Jewish populace, but to end the
influence of Jewish teaching.63 Rabbi Akiba's martyrdom is part of a consistent
pattern of defiance of oppression; the destruction of the Warsaw Ghetto resists this
kind of epic formulation. The total nature of the destruction perpetrated through
systematic and indiscriminate acts did not permit the victims the martyr's choice of
whether or not to die. At best they could choose how to die. Both the systematic
aspect of destruction. indicated by the Sergeant's obsession with the body count,
and the indiscriminate nature of the destruction, indicated by the rounding up and
beating of "young and old. strong or sick... " are emphasized in the Survivor's
narration. Still. emulating the earlier example came to carry great meaning, as Sara
Horowitz concludes from her reading of Warsaw Ghetto diaries: "... martyrdom
functioned as a form of spiritual resistance, maintaining the integrity of the
murdered, and inspiring those who remain."64 Schoenberg's work places the
martyrdom in just this problematic light by providing an instrumentality for

63Solomon Grayzel, A History of the Jews (Philadelphia: The Jewish

Publication Society, 1953), pp. 180-5.
64Sara Horowitz, "Voices from the Killing Ground," Holocaust
Remembrance: The Shapes of Killing. ed. Geoffrey H. Hartman (Oxford:
Blackwell, 1994), p. 53. See also Tsvetan Todorov, Facing the Extreme, trans.
Arthur Denner and Abigail Pollak (New York: Henry Holt, 1996), pp. 13-30.

374
remembering the experience without romantic coloration.

In two articles. "The Religious Works of Arnold Schoenberg"65 and

"Gustav Mahler and Arnold Schonberg. "66 Peter Gradenwitz presents a
comprehensive narrative of Schoenberg's religious thought through the evolution of
its literary and musical expressions.67 A Survivor from Warsaw distinguishes
itself. according to Gradenwitz. as a commemoration to the victims of the
Holocaust and as Schoenberg's first setting of the Hebrew language. Yet in a
wider sense. Gradenwitz underscores the consistency and continuity of
Schoenberg's religious impulse from its fIrst written expression in Der Totentanz
der Prinzipien to its expression in the last choral works. That the exigencies of
Jewish existence always inform the expression of Schoenberg's religious impulse
is a point Gradenwitz proves through evide.nce in Schoenberg's correspondence,
even if he neglects the contingent matter of the eclectic mystical sources on which
Schoenberg drew. On whole, Gradenwitz offers a sound basis for more detailed

6SPeter Gradenwitz, "The Religious Works of Arnold Schonberg," Music

Review 21 no. 1 (1960): 19-29.
66 Peter Gradenwitz, "Gustav Mahler and Arnold Schoenberg. " Year Book
of the Leo Baeck Institute 5 (New York: East and West Library, 1960). pp. 262-

84.
67See Schoenberg to Gradenwitz. 20 July 1934, translated in Moshe Lazar,
"Schoenberg and His Doubles: A Psychodramatic Journey to His Roots." Journal
of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute 17 (1994): llO-ii. Gradenwitz writes that "as
a young boy, he [Schoenberg] was Catholic" ("Religious Works," p. 20; "Mahler
and Schoenberg," p. 271). Schoenberg alluded to this detail in a parenthetical
comment in a letter to Gradenwitz: "(ConfIdentially: .. .1 have never been
convinced by Protestantism; but I had like most artists in my time, a Catholic
period; but please this is strictly confidential!!!!)."

375
investigation and interpretation of Schoenberg's religious works. Much subsequent
scholarship has ignored the basis of Schoenberg's work in Iewish experience.68
For example, on the very interesting matter of wordlessness in Schoenberg's
musical settings, Jean Christensen observes:

In the large religious works the characters closest to truth do not

communicate with words: in Die Iakobsleiter the Soul's words
dissolve into ecstatic, textless vocalise as she is liberated from her
material body and approaches divine light, and in Moses und Aron
the prophet lacks Aaron's command of speech.69
Contrary to this generalization, the martyrs of Warsaw do communicate with
words. And since the largeness of the work is a meaningless factor vis-a-vis its
religiosity, does that mean the martyrs are farthest from the truth? Suffice it to say
that A Survivor from Warsaw, since it lacks a clear liturgical function and departs
from more theoretical or poetic expressions. of religiosity, is not as much a part of
the critical dialogue about Schoenberg's religious works as Gradenwitz indicates it
should be. Given the antipathies intrinsic to the dual historical and religious nature
of the work, let us see how Schoenberg finds meaning in bringing the historical and
the spiritual together.
Croce holds that: "The historical existence of Helenus, Andromache and

68Glaring in this is regard is Timothy L. Jackson, review of Arnold

The Composer as Jew, by Alexander Ringer, in Theory and Practice
18 (1993): 171-8.

Schoenber~:

69Jean Christensen, "The Spiritual and the Material in Schoenberg's

Thinking," Music and Letters 65 (1984): 343.

376
Aeneas makes no difference to the poetical quality of Virgil's poem. "70 His reason
is that the poetic quality of the work resides in the internal coherence of its fonn.
not in its capacity to defme historical reality. A Survivor from Warsaw shares with
other works of Holocaust literature a stake in the capacity to represent historical
reality. This capacity depends upon the veridicality of memory as the most
outstanding feature of the work. On this basis the work deserves inclusion in
Holocaust literature. With respect to its religious meaning, the work sets the Shema
Yisrael in a particular context, and furthers Schoenberg's expression of his
religious ideas. The work thus achieves its special resonance by bringing the
historical and the spiritual together through the enchainment of generations of
memory.
Literature from the Holocaust req~s us to confront an irresolvable
dilemma: If Jewish suffering during the Holocaust were left to the Nazi destroyers
to record, it would be forgotten, and, if it were left to the victims to record, it would
hardly be believed.71 As authentication of the event the work represents,
Schoenberg includes a special note in the score of A Survivor from Warsaw typical
of Holocaust literature's testimonial aspect: "This text is based partly upon reports
which I have received directly or indirectly." Willi Reich, adds that an actual
survivor from Warsaw came to see Schoenberg, and that Schoenberg used his
70Benedetto Croce, '''Aesthetics' from Encyclopredia Britannic~"
Philosophies of Art and Beauty, eds. Albert Hofstadter and Richard Kuhns (New
York: The Modem Library, 1964), p. 559.
71 See Alexander Donat, The Holocaust
Rinehart and Winston, 1965), p. 211.

Kin~dom

(New York: Holt,

377
testimony verbatim.72 Although Holocaust literature is consistent in its aim to bear
witness, it has done so in various forms: oral testimony,

fIlm. poetry, drama,

diary. Critical consideration shows that in taking various forms it becomes prone to
coloration under the sway of artistic, political or historical aims. For example, one
kind of coloration that occurs in the written literature, as opposed to oral testimony,
is the persistence of nineteenth-century literary models. On this point Lawrence
Langer indicates how The Brothers Karamazov echoes in Elie Wiesel's Night. 73 In
trying to place A Survivor from Warsaw within Holocaust literature, let us consider
a few comparisons by looking critically at some of the literature in these other
forms. Our intention is to see how various purposes color the accounts, not to
question the facts of the accounts themselves which are undeniable. 74
Poetty. Sidra DeKoven Ezrahi disc~sses a poem by Abraham Sutzkever
called "The Leaden Plates of Romm's Printing Works" composed in the Vilna
Ghetto with date and place specified (Sept. 12, 1943).75 Sutzkever draws on the
image of lead plates transformed into bullets to invoke the notion that: "Jewish

72Willi Reich, Schoenberg: A Critical Bio~hy, trans. Leo Black (New

York: Praeger, 1971; reprint ed., New York: Da Capo Press, 1981), p. 221-3.
73Lawrence L. Langer, Holocaust Testimony: The Ruins of Memory (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1991), p. 43.
74See Pierre Vidal-Naquet, Assassins of Memory: Essays on the Denial of
the Holocaust, trans. Jeffrey Mehlman (New York: Columbia University Press,
1992).
75Sidra DeKoven Ezrahi, "The Holocaust and the Shifting Boundaries of
Art and History," History and Memory 1 no. 2 (1989): 77-97.

378
bravery once hidden in words, must now strike back with shot! ... "76 A reader is
sure to be left with the impression that this is an account of an authentic event.
Though not completely fictional, Ezrahi notes the event was planned but probably
never occurred; its very possibility took on a necessary symbolic importance. Here
artistic exigencies - the need for a heroic account - overtook historical truth, as
Ezrahi puts it: "Almost simultaneously with the events themselves, then, the
historical matter becomes molten in the imagination's forge. "77
A contingency in the narration of A Survivor from Warsaw leads to a
necessary symbolic element that is not inferable from the event itself. After the
Jews are beaten, a soldier says, "They are all dead!" ("they" always refers to the
Jews). Surely, after the beating with rifle butts it must have appeared that way.
The soldier's words, however, underscore

important theological coloration to

the event. From unconsciousness the Jews rise, intimating the fulflilment of the
promise of resurrection, to proclaim God's unity in a recitation of the Shema while
facing their own martyrdom. From a state of total inertness to a state of total
agitation ("like a stampede of wild horses"), the final chorus affirms not only God's
unity, but also the belief in the resurrection of the dead Ctekhiyyat ha-metim).
Despite the theological coloration, there is no sense that the evil of the event is
mitigated by belief.

76Abraham Sutzkever, Burnt Pearls: Ghetto Poems of Abraham Sutzkever,

trans. Seymour Mayne (Oakville, Ontario: Mosaic Press, 1981), p. 41.
77Sidra DeKoven Ezrahi, "The Holocaust and the Shifting Boundaries," p.
84.

379
Drama. Purporting the objectivity of his documentary play The
Investi~ation,

which aims to present testimony concerning exactly what happened at

Auschwitz, Peter Weiss nevertheless receives harsh criticism. Otto Best writes
thus: "When a court case becomes a show trial, the spectator is not enlightened; he
is subjected to propaganda "78 Alvin Rosenfeld indicates that the distorting effects
of this propaganda occur on account of the double intention to both present
evidence and condemn at the same time.79 Rosenfeld argues that what Weiss puts
on trial is "the system" per se, and is hardly concerned with either the living or dead
who are "little more than ciphers in his political arithmetic."80 In universalizing the
reality of Auschwitz, Weiss further dehumanizes it referring to the victims as so
many hundreds of thousands; as Rosenfeld notes, the word "Jew" never occurs in
his text. Capitalism is Weiss's quarry to which, from a socialist ideological
perspective, he attaches responsibility for Auschwitz. The insufficiency of the
argument is driven home by Rosenfeld:
Just how inadequate an explanation for Auschwitz that is
immediately becomes clear to anyone who has read the literature
about the camps -- or, indeed, to anyone who listened carefully to
what was said at the War Crimes Trial in Frankfurt. Far from
exposing a profit motive for Auschwitz, the evidence all points the
other way: to gratuitous waste and needless elimination of human
resources. The camps, far from existing for the primary purpose of

780tto Best, Peter Weiss, trans. Ursula Molinaro (New York: Frederick
Ungar Publishing Co., 1976), pp. 83-4.
79Alvin Rosenfeld, A Double Dyini (Bloomington: Indiana University
Press, 1980), pp. 154-9.
80lbid., p. 158.

380
exploiting slave labor for cheap production, murdered their slaves en
masse and produced little more than corpses. Yet as an ideological
socialist Weiss needs a motive more in line with the dictates of
dialectical materialism and fmds his "explanation" in capitalism,
under which system, he maintains, the prisoners and the guards
could be virtually interchangeable. S1
The text of A Survivor from Warsaw, like Peter Weiss's The Investigation,
contains no occurrence of the word "Jew." Obsessed only with counting bodies,
the Feldwebel, sergeant, threatens and delivers violence, but does not address the
Jews as Jews. Only during the singing of the Shema does it become overtly clear
who the victims are. The omission of the words "lew" and for that matter the word
"Ghetto" weakens the text, but does not neutralize it in the sense that The
Investigation is, in Rosenfeld's view, neutralized. And given the Sergeant's urgent
need to know how many he is about to deliver to the gas chamber, attaching this
enterprise of destruction to capitalism seems, as Rosenfeld argues, preposterous.
Filmed Oral Testimony. In 1942, Jan Karski resumed service as a courier
between the London-based Polish government in exile and the Polish underground.
Two Jewish leaders contacted him, and asked him to carry word of the fate of the
Warsaw Ghetto. He was led through the Ghetto twice so he could carry an
eyewitness account. In 1985, he recounted this episode from his life for the film
Shoah. He began to remember thus: "Now (pause) now I go back thirty-five

81Ibid., 157.

381
years. No, I don't go back (pause) I come back. I am ready."82 This is typical of
the sheer effort not only survivors, but witnesses like Jan Karski undergo when
asked for an account of their experiences. The reluctant summoning of memory at
the beginning of survivor accounts is eerily reminiscent of the Narrator's fIrst
words in A Survivor From Warsaw: "I cannot remember ev'rything! I must have
been unconscious most of the time ... !"83 After an arduous beginning,
Schoenberg's Narrator recounts as Claude Lanzmann's interview subjects recount:
in a direct manner, intermittently forced to pause, bear the emotion of the memory,
recompose, and continue.
Commenting on Shoah, Leon Wieseltier noted that it is "memory" that
emerges as the product of both the sense of "contemporaneity" and "structure"
conveyed in the interviews. With documentary and docu-drama both unsuitable
terms, Wieseltier suggests "doeu-memory" as the most apt coinage. 84 Shoah and A
Survivor from Warsaw. granting the differences of their respective media, the one
which demands length of Lanzmann (Shoah is nine hours long) and brevity of
Schoenberg (A Survivor from Warsaw is seven minutes long), are alike in the
importance and vitality they ascribe to memory. Delving into memory helps not
only to reestablish facts, but also to establish the trauma to the sense of self. This

82Claude Lanzmann, Shoah: An Oral History of the Holocaust (New York,

Pantheon, 1985), p. 167.
83Amold Schoenberg, A Survivor from Warsaw, Op. 46, rev. ed. (New
York: Boelke-Bomart, 1973).
84Leon Wieseltier, review of Shoah, Dissent (Winter 1986): 29.

382
line of inquiry has even been carried to the study of dreams, not primarily for
purposes of psychoanalysis, but for historical import.85 In the essay "Terror and
Dream," Reinhart Koselleck compares dreams - "psychic 'X-ray images"'recorded during the time of the Third Reich with those that originated in the
concentration camps.86 Dreams did not only reflect terror, but acted as instruments
of terror as well. The connections to political reality that dreams possessed
disintegrated upon internment in the concentration camps in which: "the
relationship to the past becomes loosened, family ties dissolve, and musical scenes
or natural or architectonic landscapes extend themselves. "87 Thus the Survivor
from Warsaw text, which refers to states of half- and un- consciousness,
remembering and forgetting seven times (nun. 10, 11, 12,20,22,54, 58),
indicates an intermediate stage in which the Survivor is trying neither to allow his
grasp of the past to loosen nor his sense of family ties to dissolve. Despite the
struggle with consciousness, Lawrence Langer, in his study of Holocaust survivor
testimony, writes that: "... Holocaust memory is an insomniac faculty, whose

85See Charlotte Beradt, Das Drine Reich des Traumes (Munich, 1966), and
Jean Cayrol, Lazarus unter uns (Stuttgart, 1959). Beradt documents dreams during
the Third Reich, and Cayrol documents dreams in the concentration camps.
86Reinhart Koselleck, Futures Past: On The Semantics of Historical Time,
trans. Kenneth Tribe (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1985), pp. 213-30.
87Ibid., pp. 223-6.

383
mental eyes have never slept. "88 The terror that permeated every state of his
consciousness is given form in the unrelenting expression of terror by the music. in
effect. compensating for the impainnents to the survivor's consciousness.
On one level. A Survivor from Warsaw represents the experience of what it
is like to remember an event of terror that is scorched into one's memory. In this
sense. to remember is very much to re-experience. To the extent that A Survivor
from Warsaw represents both an event and the psychic effort required to remember
that event. and does so without unwanted aesthetic melioration. the work has a
place in Holocaust literature. Let us tum now to the religious aspects of the work.
and then tum to the interrelationship of the historical and the religious vis-a.-vis
memory and experience.
A Survivor from Warsaw is a religious or sacred work in two senses: as a
work that sets a sacred text within a very specific context. and as a work that
constitutes part of the evolving expression of Schoenberg's own religious impulse.
To understand the religious nature of the work. let us tum first of all to of Rabbi
Joseph B. Soloveitchik and his The Lonely Man of Faith. Using his own
experience as an example, he sees the individual as divided. and by no means
evenly divided. by the inclinations of the majestic self - the person of culture, of
science. of worldly concerns -- and the religious self - the person who experiences

88Lawrence L. Langer, Holocaust Testimonies: The Ruins of Memory

(New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991), p. xv.

384
faith "as something given to man when the latter was overpowered by God."89
These two aspects of the individual follow from and correspond respectively to the
two creation stories of Adam. Each of the two Adams experiences time in a
different way. As experienced by the majestic self, time "is quantified, spatialized,
and measured ... Past and future are not two experiential realities ...They just
represent two horizontal dimensions. "90 What the majestic self does not experience
profoundly is just what the religious self experiences most acutely:
The existential insecurity of Adam the second stems, to a great
extent, also from his tragic role as a temporal being. He simply
cannot pinpoint his position within the rushing stream of time. He
knows of an endless past which rolled on without him. He is aware
also of an endless future which will rush on with no less force long
after he will cease to exist. The link between the "before" in which
he was not involved and the "after" from which he will be excluded
is the present moment, which vanishes before it is experienced. In
fact, the whole accidental character.of his being is tied up with this
frightening time-consciousness ... Adam the second experiences the
transience and evanescence of a "now" existence which is not
warranted either by the "before" or the "after."
In the covenantal community the man of faith finds deliverance
from his isolation in the "now," for the latter contains both the
"before" and the "after." Every covenantal time experience is both
retrospective, reconstructing and reliving the bygone, as well as
prospective. anticipating the "about to be." In retrospect, covenantal
man re-experiences the rendezvous with God in which the covenant,
as a promise, hope, and vision, originated. In prospect, he beholds
the full eschatological realization of this covenant, its promise, hope

89Joseph B. Soloveitchik, The Lonely Man of Faith, p. 105.

90lbid., p. 70.

385
and vision. 91
A Survivor from Warsaw represents a covenantal community at its moment of truth
reignited in its relation to the kerygma that is at the heart of its identity and raison
d'ctre, the Shema Yisrael. Its presence fills the narrator's memory as he is
conducting himself back to that moment (m. 19). Worldly concerns held no sway
at that moment, just the sense of evanescence which demanded a gesture that would
condense all time embraced by the covenant into that one moment. When in the
remarkable Warsaw Ghetto diary of EmmarlUel Ringelblum there occurs a note
about "the growth of a strong sense of historical consciousness" (quoted above), he
means it in the sense of the kind of covenantal community Soloveitchik describes,
less concerned with the worldly troubles of an obstinate "now," more concerned
with the manifold time of the covenant.
We find both the majestic and religious aspects of the individual peculiarly
configured in Schoenberg in his effort to accomplish "the job of translating faith
mysteries into cultural aspects ... "92 From his plans in 1912 to present "Modem
Man's Prayer" to the composition of A Survivor from Warsaw, Schoenberg
attempted to address the man of faith's view of the world within modem man's
cultural sphere. Music, which could either serve to redress the anxiety of time91Ibid.,69-71. See also Henri Bergson, The Creative Mind: An
Introduction to Metaphysics, trans. Mabelle Andison (New York: Citadel Press,
1992), pp. 159-200. Bergson's influence upon Soloveitchik is evident in the
distinction between the conception of dock-time as an infinite series of points and
the conception of duration as an indivisible flow of time mirrored in the fluidity of
memory and psychological states.
92Ibid .. p. 98.

386
consciousness in its subordinate role to the sacred calendar, or, to heighten the
anxiety of time-consciousness as it did in Schoenberg's hands, was the critical
medium for this endeavor. If Schoenberg were entirely successful in this effort
then: "The man of faith would...be at peace with the man of culture so that the
latter would fully understand the significance of human dialectics, and a perfect
harmonious relationship would prevail between both Adams."93 However, in
terms of the individual works Schoenberg's aim was not fulfilled. Of the
symphony-oratorio complex envisioned in 1912, only Die lakobsleiter, though not
complete. attained viability. A Survivor from Warsaw manages to complete, even
to transcend. Die lakobsleiter which so poignantly dwells on the anxiety of timeconsciousness.
In the opening chorus of Die lakobsleiter, exclamations of suffering arise
from various groups of singers of which one group sings: "Welche schrecklichen
Schmerzen." When the Narrator describes the aftermath of the beating of the Jews.
he recalls in a half-conscious state that everything had become still. and colors the
notion of stillness with the words "fear and pain." These two lines are deeply
resonant with one another. All the suffering, all the voices -- of those who are
malcontent, doubting. rejoicing, rebelling. struggling, indifferent - of Die
Jakobsleiter are in A Survivor from Warsaw, except that in the latter they have
something to proclaim. whereas in the former worldly interests cannot be
transcended and time is experienced as an unarticulated now.

93Ibid . p. 98.

387
The Narrator remembers the manyrs' remembering ("the forgotten creed").
And the martyrs remember the covenant; countless historical moments interpenetrate
one another. What the Narrator describes as an occurrence of immediacy that
happened "all of a sudden" "as if prearranged" resulted from a continuity of history,
memory and experience.

388

CHAPTER VI
SCHOENBERG'S FIVE PIANO PIECES OPUS 23:
JUDGMENT AND PURPOSE
While still under construction in 1910-12, the House on the Michaelerplatz
stood in the center of a controversy that the building's extreme proximity to the
Imperial Residence in central Vienna raised to a pitch. With its lower fa~ade
executed in solid block marble, the ground and mezzanine levels were designed for
a store. Above the store, four stories of apartments were finished with an
unornamented plaster exterior and plain square windows. Opponents assailed
architect Adolf Loos from both sides. An anonymous feuilletonist - whose
language seems indebted to musical invective - commented in the Neue Freie
Presse: "How can anyone have thought it possible to harmonize this blatantly
dissonant modernism with its timeless, historic surroundings?" I Indeed, it was a
matter of policy that the neo-baroque splendor of the Hofburg (completed 1893)

I"Das Haus gegeniiber das Burg," Neue Freie Presse, 4 December 1910.
quoted in Peter Vergo. Art in Vienna 1898-1918 (London: Phaidon, 1975), p.
171.

389
should be reflected in the surrounding buildings like a corona to inspire awe in
those who approach. Loos' design repudiated imperial grandeur, and substituted
instead a visionary "idea" of modem life.2 Drawing upon evolutionary arguments
to support functionalism, Loos wrote and lectured in his own defense while
scaffolding still enveloped the building. He even used one critic to combat another
when he quoted an unnamed modem artist who was heard to exclaim: "What! He
calls himself a modem architect and designs a building that looks like the medieval
Viennese houses!"3 Stylistic authenticity was certainly an issue, but the issue that
concerns us here is how the conflicting purposes various factions impute to history
can affect understanding and judgment, leaving the artist caught in between. In this
position the artist is compelled to argue for the comprehensibility of his work to
both the critic who accuses him of stodgy regressiveness as well as the critic who
accuses him of incendiary revolution.
Robert Musil represents this crisis over historical counter-purposes in The
Man Without Qualities. Ulrich, Musil's Socratic protagonist, reports to Count
Leinsdorf on the proposals that have been offered as themes for the Parallel
Campaign:
'I have already. incidentally ... two folders full of general
proposals ... One of them I have headed: Back to _ _ ! It's amazing
how many people tell us that the world was better off in earlier times
2Karl Kraus, Die Fackel (Nos. 313-14): 5, quoted in Edward Timms, Karl
Kraus: Apocalyptic Satirist (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986), p. 125.
"Er hat ihnen dort einen Gedanken hingebaut." (He had built for them an idea.)
3Neue Freie Presse, 6 December 1910, quoted in Peter Vergo, Art in
Vienna 1898-1918 (London: Phaidon, 1975), p. 172.

390

and want the Parallel Campaign to take us back there. Without

counting the understandable slogan, Back to Religion!, we still have
a Back to the Baroque, Back to Gothic. Back to Nature. Back to
Goethe. to Ancient Gennanic law. to Moral Purity. and quite a few
!' he began to
more ... I had to head the second one Forward to
explain, but His Grace started to his feet and found that his time
was up. He urged Ulrich to leave the continuation of their talk for
another time, when there would be more leisure to give it some
thought. 4
One would love to know the proposals in the 'Forward to _ _' file, but the Count
has neither the inclination nor the patience to entertain any vision of the future that
does not radiate from the Hotburg. Yet he is no more comfortable with the
regressive proposals which would require turning back irreversible processes of
history. The situation makes vivid the high stakes of the Loos controversy,
namely, the very stability of the empire to which modernity was a palpable threat.
But in the matter of the engagement between the artist and his critics, clearly Loos'
feuilletonist critic would file Loos' design in the 'Forward to _ _' folder. while
the modem artist would file it in the 'Back to _ _' folder. Over a disjuncture
between past and future, there are then three battles going on: the two critics with
each other. and each critic with Loos. Turning to Schoenberg and his Opus 23 we
find an analogous situation where judgments have been inextricably linked with
clashing notions of historical purpose.
Schoenberg's Opus 23 is a set of five piano pieces tossed on historiographic

4Musil. The Man Without Qualities, vol. 1. p. 251.

391
crosscurrents that permeate Schoenberg's writing. 5 The crosscurrents represent the
conflicted expression of attitudes toward past and future in which the artist is caught
in between. Pointing to Schoenberg's essay "Brahms the Progressive" as the
correct exposition of the modem artist's situation, Peter Gay writes: "The creator is
quite enmeshed in the tradition ...To tum to the past - or, rather, one past - may be
the most effective way of preparing the future. 6" Psychohistorian Robert Jay
Lifton acknowledges the point that the creator utilizes the foundations of the past,
but expresses the paradox of the situation concisely: "... that which is most
genuinely revolutionary makes psychological use of the past for its plunge into the
future. But nonetheless: The shapers of...History -- political revolutionaries,
revolutionary thinkers, and technological breakthroughs - also express the death of
the old."7
These two stances are represented in the writings of Schoenberg -- the one
which admits that tradition can sustain if not propel the artist, the other which
observes that the newly emergent will not sustain the tradition, or sustain it only

5Berg to Schoenberg, 28 October 1920, The Ber&-Schoenber&

Correspondence, p. 288. A concert of the Society for Private Musical Performance
of Vienna in October 1920 honoring Ravel was the occasion of the premiere of the
first two pieces from Opus 23. Eduard Steurmann was the pianist. Alban Berg
attended and reported to Schoenberg: "Of course after one hearing I don't have an
opinion yet on your new piano pieces, just an unspeakably warm, intimate
impression. I even seem to have understood the 2nd one a little."
6Peter Gay, Freud, Jews and Other Germans (New York: Oxford
University Press, 1978), p. 254.
7Robert Jay Lifton, "The Young and the Old--Notes on a New History,"
History and Human Survival (New York: Random House, 1970), p. 337.

392
selectively. The tone of Schoenberg's later essays such as "My Evolution" (1949)
or "Composition with Twelve-Tones" (1941) expresses the predominantl~ rational
appeal for understanding the twelve-tone method as a continuity with the past in that
the method answered the need for a new way demanded by tradition. Implicit in the
tradition was the possibility of the twelve-tone method. Contingent structures
logically implied by the principal materials of tonal music presented logical
implications of their own demanding a new fonn of presentation. And the method
developed from this necessity of finding an ever more ideal way to compose with
new materials. To paraphrase Lakatos. mathematics or music. as the case may be.
"becomes a living, growing organism that acquires a certain autonomy from the
activity which has produced it. The genuine creative mathematician [or musician] is
an incarnation of these laws which can only realize themselves in human action."8
On the other hand. the organism may undergo a very sudden evolutionary jolt
precipitating extreme measures on the part of its human agent. Schoenberg's earlier
writings reflect the experience of disjuncture by their radical tone:
The literature is thrown out, the results of education are shaken
off. the inclinations come forward, the obstacle turns the stream into
a new course, the one hue that earlier was only a subordinate color
in the total picture spreads out, a personage is born... (1911)
That is called revolution; and artists, those who submit to such
necessities ... are accused of all possible crimes ... (paragraph added.
1922)9

8lmre Lakatos, Proofs and Refutations, eds. John Worrall and Elie Zahar
(London: Cambridge University Press, 1976), p. 146.
9Schoenberg. Theory of Harmony, pp. 400-1.

393
Opus 23 is integral to both stances. For the Schoenberg of "My Evolution"
the five pieces represent the crucial transitional stages toward twelve-tone serialism.
Indeed. Opus 23. No.5 is the only twelve-tone serial work of the five. presumably
led up to by its four predecessors. The five pieces were composed intermittently
between 1920 and 1923; the third and fourth pieces. completed respectively on 9
and 13 February 1923. overlap the earliest crystallization of twelve-tone serialism in
1921. \0 But the Schoenberg of 1922 who defmed revolution in a revision to the
Harmonielehre issued a clear message: the artist establishes his identity through
shifts more profound than what is commonly implied by gradual transition or
incremental change.
One might respond that surely in the course of twenty-six years connections
appeared to Schoenberg that were not app~ent at the time in 1922. How
Schoenberg maps himself into modem history in 1949 surely supersedes his radical
position. Nevertheless the later essays retain traces of the earlier radical stance.
The interesting question concerns the necessity for both the conservative and radical
stances to be held at the same time. A parable by Kafka illustrates the dynamics of
being caught in between and needing more than one strategy for justification:
He has two opponents: the first presses him from behind. from
the origin. The second blocks the road ahead. He gives battle to
both. To be sure. the first supports him in his fight with the second.
for he wants to push him forward. and in the same way the second
supports him in his fight with the first, since he drives him back.

IOSee Jan Maegaard. "A Study in the Chronology ofOpp. 23-26 by Arnold
Schoenberg." Dansk aarboc for musikforskninc (1962): 93-115. See also Martha
Hyde. "Musical Form and the Development of Schoenberg's Twelve-Tone
Method," Journal of Music Theory 29 (1985): 87.

394
But it is only theoretically. For it is not only the two opponents who
are there, but he himself as well, and who really knows his
intentions? His dream, though, is that some time in an unguarded
moment - and this would require a night darker than any night has
ever been yet - he will jump out of the fighting line and be
promoted, on account of his experience in fighting, to the position
of umpire over his opponents in their fight with each other. I I
In her discussion of this parable which she quotes in her preface to Between Past
and Future, Hannah Arendt indicates how this story turns the tables on those
evaluators of timeliness such as Loos' critics and Musil's Count Leinsdorf. The
past has a tendency to "press forward" from its point of origin toward an
indeterminate future. The future strives to be close to the source in order "to
imprint its stamp on the past and determine its image. 12 Poised in this gap
II

between past and future. Schoenberg could adopt the stance of the iconoclast or the
traditionalist to make comprehensible the sense of the juxtaposition of these five
pieces. It is this tension between the two stances of Schoenberg's evolutionism that
allows him to handle the two onslaughts. I refer to the first opponent as one from
the progressive past palled by stagnation, pushing ahead from the origin outward to
the future. The latter opponent is one from the regressive future who is seeking
continuity with the past. back toward the origin.
I have come to associate two personas in Schoenberg's writing in his
struggle with each of these opponents. Appealing to the opponent from the

II Hannah Arendt. Between Past and Future (New York: The Viking Press,
1961 ), p. 7. The translation of the Kafka parable is Arendt's.

12Joseph B. Soloveitchik, "Halakhic Man," trans. Lawrence Kaplan

(Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 1983), p. 115.

395
regressive future is Schoenberg's Aaron, and trying to win over the opponent from
the progressive past is Schoenberg's Moses.13 These two personas are evident in
Schoenberg's writings and can be traced to his play Der biblische Weg written in
the mid-1920s shortly after the completion of Opus 23. Max Arons, the central
character, is Moses and Aaron at the same time. Here Asseino, the spokesman of
traditional Jewry, speaks to Max Arons:
ASSEINO: (raising his voice) Max Arons, you want to be Moses
and Aron in one and the same person! Moses, to whom God
granted the Idea but from whom He withheld the gift of speech; and
Aron, who could not grasp the Idea but had the ability to
communicate it and to move the masses. Max Arons, you who so
well understood the art of interpreting God's word in contemporary
terms, how could you fail to understand why God did not unite both
powers in only one person?14
This characterization is more familiar from its development in the opera Moses und
Aron, and the distinguished scholar Lucy Davidowicz has vouched for its
plausibility.IS It is the stance of Aaron that smooths out shifts and discontinuities.
revealing patterns in history and making the historical situation understandable to a
community incapable of understanding. The story is linear, irreversible and

13Kurt Hiller. Neue Methode des Kampfes "egen den Antisemitismus,

Berlin 1923, Archives of the New York Leo Baeck Institute. Kurt Hiller, a writer
and editor often published in Die Neue Merkur, also distinguished between the
"Moses Jew," the highly spiritual individual, and the "Aaron Jew," the crass
materialist.
14Schoenberg, Der biblische Weg, trans. Moshe Lazar, act 3, sc. 3, Journal
of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute 17 (1994): 303.
lSLucy Dawidowicz, "Arnold Schoenberg: A Search for Jewish Identicy,"
The Jewish Presence (New York: Harcourt. Brace, Jovanovich, 1978), pp. 32-45.

396
unidirectionaL For Schoenberg's Moses the story is also forward moving though
full of irreconcilable disjuncture -- Moses is the only one who understands reality
not in tenns of master and slave, but in terms of one community held captive by
another whose liberation required a multi-faceted solution. The story of
Schoenberg's Moses is multi-directional; it admits accidents, choices and
variations. Here are two pairs of excerpts from Schoenberg's writings to represent
these stances. In the first pair from "Composition with Twelve-Tones" (1941), we
hear the position of Schoenberg's Moses:
To understand the very nature of creation one must acknowledge
that there was no light before the Lord said: 'Let there be light.'
And since there was not yet light, the Lord's omniscience embraced
a vision of it which only His omnipotence could call forth ... A
creator has a vision of something which has not existed before this
vision. And a creator has the power to bring his vision to life, the
powerto realize it.l6
Schoenberg writes with a knowledge of the Creator that betokens the Moses
persona. But foremost is this amazing notion that the true creator can envision and
bring forth something that does not exist. It is the ultimate perceptual shift. As the
essay continues, we listen to the voice of Aaron in whose voice the essay acquires
the tone of the music history textbook:
The ear had gradually become acquainted with a great number of
dissonances. and so had lost the fear of their 'sense interrupting'
effect. One no longer expected preparations of Wagner's
dissonances or resolutions of Strauss' discords; one was not
disturbed by Debussy's non-functional harmonies, or by the harsh
counterpoint of later composers. This state of affairs led to a freer
use of dissonances comparable to classic composers' treatment of

16Schoenberg, "Composition with Twelve-Tones" (1941), Style and Idea,

pp. 214-5.

397
diminished seventh chords, which could precede and follow any
other harmony, consonant or dissonant, as if there were no
dissonance at all. 17
In this passage we fmd that "the ear" in its perceptual evolution has been gradually
prepared for the necessity of Schoenberg's next step. Here Schoenberg fuses two
very different strains of thought. In one sense, he argues from an inductivist stance
that the ear learns from experience (expressed in terms of "losing fear") which
makes for the kind of optimism that is a central value of inductive science. The
opponent from the regressive future is assured that music history is on-track.
In the essay "My Evolution" (1949), Schoenberg's Moses speaks again
alerting us but not preparing us for what was to come next: "Time for a change had
arrived. In 1915 I had sketched a symphony, the theme of the Scherzo of which
accidentally consisted of twelve tones."18 The word "accidentally" might be
troubling in that one might think of the events of the Exodus happening by
chance. 19 But from the perspective of Moses. we realize that one does not after all
go searching for Burning Bushes. but after such an experience. one can hardly

17Schoenberg, "Composition with Twelve Tones" (1941). Style and Idea.

p.216.
18Schoenberg. "My Evolution" (1948), Style and Idea, p. 88.
19"A Question of Priority", unpublished MS in the Arnold Schoenberg
Institute Archives, Los Angeles. By "accidental" Schoenberg is also professing the
priority of this event and his autonomy from any human influence in writing a
theme with twelve tones. In 1914-15 he mentioned the Scherzo theme to Webem.
and writes that: "W.[ebern] seems to have used 12 tones in some of his
compositions without telling me."

398
desist from the necessity of the task that is proposed. This passage bears
comparison with a passage only two pages earlier.

In this passage, the voice of Aaron is invoked to quiet the "murmurrings"

against the developments of the new style:
This first step occurred in the Two Songs, Op. 14, and thereafter
in the Fifteen Songs of the Hanging Gardens and in the Three Piano
Pieces, Opus 11. Most critics of this new style failed to investigate
how far the ancient 'eternal' laws of musical aesthetics were
observe, spurned. or merely adjusted to changed circumstances.
Such superficiality brought about accusations of anarchy and
revolution, whereas, on the contrary, this music was distinctly a
product of evolution, and no more revolutionary than any other
development in the history of music. 20
The "first step" provoked a backlash from the opponent from the regressive future
and Schoenberg's Aaron responded to the charges. It is in this essay "My
Evolution" that the two personas serve the particular strategy of locating and
establishing the method of composing with twelve tones as the main event in
Schoenberg's creative life. Schoenberg's Moses introduces the chapter of twelvetone composition although the logic of its development is the responsibility of
Schoenberg's Aaron. The shift in narrative perspective articulates the story through
phrases like "time for a change," but minimizes the disjuncture. Opus 23 comes as
an early event in the creation of the twelve-tone method; the Five Pieces are
subordinated to the twelve-tone compositions.

20Schoenberg. "My Evolution" (1949), Style and Idea, p. 86.

399
II
In Exodus and Revolution, Michael Walzer explores the Exodus story as

relevant if not paradigmatic for modem accounts of political revolution:

[It is] a political history with a strong linearity, a strong forward
movement...We can think of it as the crucial alternative to ... those
cyclical understandings of political change from which our word
"revolution" begins to take on the meaning that it has for
contemporary militants" a one way, once and for all, transformation
of the political world)I
Walzer's phrase "one way, once and for all, transformation" resonates strongly
with certain evolutionary theories. The positions of Schoenberg's Moses and
Aaron can each be modeled according to an evolutionary theory insofar as they tell
stories in a particular way. Aaron's stance is partly entangled in the evolutionary
theory of Lamarck. In this light, Schoenberg's essay "My Evolution" is the story
of the necessity of producing a solution to the problem-situation that arose in the
wake of the crumbling foundations of tonality. There are two aspects to
Lamarckian evolution I would emphasize: problem-solving through development
which often increases complexity, and the descent of learned traits which increases
efficiency. The evolution of technology is essentially Lamarckian in that techniques
are passed down from one generation to the next. In biology the Lamarckian model
has been applied to the problem-situation faced by ducks and geese, whose webbed
feet evolved through the constant spreading action of the toes in water which

2IMichaeI Walzer, Exodus and Revolution (New York: Basic Books. Inc.,
1985), p. 12.

400
consequently developed the membrane. 22 Each step in the evolutionary process
leads methodically to the next until the potential solution - in Schoenberg's case,
twelve-tone serialism - is reached and the potential of the solution is realized. The
story is preponderantly irreversible, purposive and unidirectional, i.e., teleological.
The development could be likened to watching a polaroid snapshot develop. The
solution must be detennined before the process of change begins and no
intermediate stage is prized until the process is arrested. The foundations of this
side of Schoenberg's evolutionistic essays are well explained in Stephen Toulmin's
book Human Understanding and may be traced to the tradition of evolutionism
stemming from Lamarck and Herder in vogue at least a half century before
Darwin's On the Origin of Species (1859).23 To outline Toulmin's account, I
would recapitulate the following main points:
1) The notion of evolution. mechanism aside, requires two assumptions:
the fact of descent and thereby the rejection of the hypothesis of independent
origins, known these days as creationism, and the doctrine of progression. "that
'higher' forms of organic being could arise by direct descent from lower."
2) Even thirty or forty years before On the Origin of Species a wide

spectrum of philosophic thought made these assumptions their owo. And

22Madeleine Barthelmy-Madaudle, Lamarck the Mythical Precursor, trans.

M. H. Schank (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1982), p. 78. See also Jonathan Miller
and Borin Van Loon. Darwin For Be~inners (New York: Pantheon Books, 1982).

p.42.
23Stephen Toulmin, Human Understanding: The Collective Use and
Evolution of Concepts (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1972), pp. 319-56.

401
furthennore they stressed the Rationality of Progression through unidirectional and
irreversible descent.24
3) The Rationality of Progression means that evolution proceeds through
development as opposed to variation. We may construe development as changes
that take place as the "conclusions and implications of some ongoing 'Cosmic
Argument'" toward some end, goal or purpose. In human evolution the goal has
been thought to be one such as the perfection of liberty, reason, freedom or mind.
4) By the 1890s and 1900s the variational-survival principles of Darwin had

become entangled with and distorted by teleological-developmental evolution as a

consequence of the over-simplifications of Social Darwinism.
Concurring with Toulmin's assessment of complete entanglement, Edward
Timms describes those years as: " ... a peri<?d when philosophies of history were
two-a-penny. "25 Yet we can see the desirability of a developmental history for
Schoenberg because it is a mode of explanation steeped in the very same cultural
and musical tradition in which Schoenberg was raised.

24See Nathan Rotenstreich, The Recurrini Pattern: Studies in Anti-Judaism

in Modem Thought (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, Ltd., 1963), p. 14.
Rotenstreich notes that: "Kant neither dealt with the conceptual presuppositions of
history nor elevated history to a latent rationality manifest in time." For Schoenberg
musical perception is certainly colored by historical distance, but the identification
of musical logic with historical logic became an issue for Schoenberg as well.
25Edward Timms, Karl Kraus: Apocalyptic Satirist (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1986), p. 57.

402
But now let us see how a teleological position, one that accepts "goals and
purposes as realities." can distort the analysis of a so-called "transitional" work
such as Opus 23.26
This discussion of Schoenberg's writing personas and evolutionary models
pertains to the qualitative evaluation of Opus 23 in light of its chronology.
Chronology and qualitative evaluation do not need to go hand in hand, but the
historical report of Schoenberg's Aaron is so goal oriented that works prior to the
twelve-tone method are defmed according to their shortcomings:
The first three measures consist of thirteen tones. Both the D and
Eb appear twice, while C# is missing...They still do not constitute a
real basic set. I had at this time not yet discovered all the technical
tools that furnish such abundance of variety as is necessary for
expansive forms.27
The tone of disappointment has obtained and persists in contemporary theory.
Ethan Haimo writes:
The formation and refinement of Schoenberg's twelve-tone
method was a long, arduous process. It began in 1920 with
compositions that have little of the finesse, and virtually none of the
techniques that eventually enabled Schoenberg to follow the set, yet
write as freely as before.28

26Harold Blum, Time's Arrow and Evolution (Princeton: Princeton

University Press, 1955), pp. 209-11.
27Schoenberg, "My Evolution" (1949), Style and

Ide~

p. 90.

28Ethan Haimo, "Schoenberg's Passacaglia for Orchestra." Journal of the

American Musicological Society 40 (1987): 493.

403
This statement seems to apply to Opus 23, Opus 24 and Opus 25 without regard for
the particular expressive profiles of each of these works. Similarly, Andrew Mead
writes:
The loss of the hierarchical organization inherent in tonality must
have been keenly felt by the composer of Verklarte Nacht, Pelleas
und Melisande, the D minor String Quartet. Indeed, the works
immediately preceding his use of the tone-row reflect this loss in
their brevity, or their dependence on a text."29
The complaint about brevity doesn't stand up too well in a comparison of the piano
pieces. Neither Opus 33a nor Opus 33b are significantly longer than earlier works.
And it was the concision of forms that stood as a progressive value which served to
intensify and concentrate the musical expression. Concision increased as repetition
was eliminated in large-scale roles such as long sequences and parallel periods.
Repetition persisted in small-scale roles such as motivic links and imbricated
melodies. For Martha Hyde the twelve-tone method is "the end or goal of our quest
as historical detectives. "30 This premise is problematic in mistaking a system for a
method, an end for a means. Her analysis of Opus 23 which is pre-programmed to
highlight that which most closely approaches twelve-tone serial ism leads to the
following conclusion: "We can conclude, then, that Schoenberg's serial contextual
works present ... basic problems because they lack specific premises to tell us, in a

29 Andrew Mead, "Large-Scale Strategy in Arnold Schoenberg's TwelveTone Method," Journal of Music Theory 29 (1985): 98. Previous discussions in
chapters three and four tend to show that it is the text that is ultimately more
dependent upon the music in Erwartunc or Die ~liickliche Hand for its meaning.
30Martha Hyde. "Musical Form and the Development of Schoenberg's
Twelve-Tone Method," Journal of Music Theory 29 (1985): 98.

404
general way, how to hear basic kinds of musical relations) I" This conclusion that the "works lack premises to tell us how to hear basic kinds of musical
relations" - is false. It implies that the musical context is insufficiently
comprehensive in its organization to establish "specific premises." Schoenberg's
project of "working with the tones of the motive" is a decided move toward more
comprehensive organization. "32 If anything, through close study of these works
we learn how to hear "basic kinds of musical relations" that are fruitful for the
understanding of not only these works, but of earlier and later works too. Hyde
argues that the techniques employed in Opus 23 work against the generation of
extended forms and these techniques are therefore abandoned. Opus 23 in this
view becomes some sort of booster rocket stage that falls away after its fuel is
spent. These are only recent appraisals. Pierre Boulez33 and even Karl Popper34
have assailed Opus 23 with Boulez finding the pieces regressive and Popper
maligning them as futuristic.
This is only one aspect of how Opus 23 has suffered under the burden of its
historical position and function. Another aspect appears in the comparison between

3IIbid .. 109.
32See Robert D. Morris. "Modes of Coherence and Continuity in
Schoenberg's Piano Piece. Op. 23, No.1." Theory and Practice 17 (1992): 5-34.
33Pierre Boulez. "Schoenberg Is Dead" The Score 6 (May 1952): 19.
Boulez writes: "He reaches a 'no man's land' in the five piano pieces of Opus 23."
34Karl Popper, Unended Quest (Glasgow: William Collins Sons & Co .
1978), pp. 54-55.

405

Schoenberg's historical report and the highly regarded chronology compiled by Jan
Maegaard from Schoenberg's sketches and autographs. In his unidirectional report
Schoenberg states that his work went through several stages and indicates that Opus
23 and Opus 24 were those stages leading to the Piano Suite Opus 25.

Ethan Haimo and Martha Hyde take distinctly different approaches toward
reconciling the chronology, the essays and the works. Haimo writes that
Schoenberg's "brief summary gives an accurate account of the principal stages in
the evolution of his twelve-tone method and is confirmed by his manuscripts and
sketches."35 What Haimo correctly calls the "convoluted chronology" of Opus 23.
24 and 25 tells the same story, but in a different way. The story the chronology

tells is not one of successive stages. but of concurrent work which may not be
comprehensible in terms of stages at all.
Hyde's position is ultimately that to take the measure of the twelve-tone
method one needs to understand the achievement in terms of Schoenberg's great
twelve-tone works. and not in terms of historical antecedents. those pieces leading

35Ethan Haimo. "Schoenberg's Passacaglia," p. 493.

406
up to the method.36 This position casts Opus 23 adrift and deems the Five Piano
Pieces irrelevant to Schoenberg's later development. The justification of this stance
rests on the conclusion that the chronology does not reveal the "etiology or
evolution of the twelve-tone method," and that the kinds of expectations generated
by Schoenberg's essays do not conform to the actual evidence of manuscripts and
sketches.37
Hyde rejects using this chronology because it does not represent identifiable
stages that will explain how and why Schoenberg invented the twelve-tone method.
From this perspective evolutionary stages are steps on a ladder. But even if Opus
23, Opus 24 and Opus 25 were composed in orderly succession, would stages
emerge that represent how and why Schoenberg invented the twelve-tone method
and the reasons for his adopting and promulgating it? A stage is generally modeled
as a temporal cross-section that at best reveals novel concepts, surviving concepts
and abandoned concepts. The expectation is that as we approach a time T denoting
36See Richard J. Bernstein, Beyond Objectivism and Relativism
(Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1983), pp. 79-108. Bernstein
presents an important discussion of the Kuhnian notion of "incommensurability."
The issue here concerns being forced to accept an understanding of the relationship
between Opus 23 and the twelve-tone works through one of two alternatives: either
the works relate according to the "Rationality of Progression" or they are
incommensurable, so that taking the measure of one does not help our
understanding of the other. What Kuhn means is not that the works themselves
would be incommensurable, but any single standard for their comparison would
prove to be incommensurable or unequal to the task. The Darwinian framework
presented here is meant to improve the flexibility with which comparison might be
made. See Patrick Heelan's article, below, for a way of modeling historically
related frameworks.
37Martha M. Hyde, "Musical Form and the Development of Schoenberg's
Twelve-Tone Method," Journal of Music Theory 29 (1985): 88-98.

407
the invention of the method. successive stages will show the accumulation of more
and more novel concepts that pertain to the twelve-tone method. whereas concepts
that are not useful are abandoned. But how can we question the rationality of
Schoenberg's choices concerning which concepts should survive and which should
be abandoned if the twelve-tone method is not yet in place? If our sole criterion is
purposiveness, then we cannot. Creation is not a heuristic enterprise; it is not the
"anticipation of a known unknown," to borrow Patrick Heelan's phrase.
According to Heelan, a heuristic structure requires a "systematic inquiry guided by
a set of canons." We recognize a heuristic structure in operation through the
"pattern of human exploratory activity."38 The pattern of Schoenberg's composing
is as unpredictable as the compositions themselves and thereby the model of a
heuristic structure is not simply a function C?f a linear developmental process. The
creator, in accord with Schoenberg's view, conceives an unknown unknown,
something out of nothing. Hyde's materialist expectation of Schoenberg zeroing in
on a method "like a scientist" is just impossible, as she herself admits. It is
perfectly reasonable that Schoenberg should have put his own story together the
way he did, but he avoids the pitfalls of either a heuristic or Lamarckian model

38Patrick Heelan, "The Logic of Framework Transpositions," International

Philosophical Quarterly II (1971): 321.

408
because he distinguishes between the unpredictability of discovery and the rational
process of doubting, evaluating and adopting discoveries.39

III
Just as Schoenberg is a composer caught in between, so too are the Five
Pieces, Op. 23, which generate crosscurrents of their own. Here we may entertain
hypotheticallistenings that might embrace a historical message of either progress or
regress suggested by the succession of the five pieces. The experience of listening
to Opus 23 as mentioned above can be likened to watching a Polaroid photograph
develop before our eyes, only the development of the twelve-tone method becomes
the program for the piece. The abandoned title, Praeludium, of Opus 23, No. I
suggests what is strongly sensed - the fust.piece is improvisatory. and one
experiences the compositional process through the composition. As I will suggest
below, the opening is a metaphor for the generative in atonal composition. Many
sonorities that evolve and are introduced in No.1 return recognizably in the
subsequent pieces. In the fifth piece, we encounter a waltz developed from one
form of a twelve-tone row. Having reached this goal, the necessity for a sixth piece
is obviated. We could convince ourselves that the intervening pieces are the
missing links between the possibilities that arise from No. 1 and the method
crystallized in No.5. The progressivist argument would point to increasingly

39Schoenberg, "Composition with Twelve-Tones" (1941), Style and Idea,

p.224.

409
stricter serialization techniques in Nos. 2, 3 and 4. In this listening, the program
for Opus 23 becomes the march through the desert.
On the other hand, Opus 23 could be perceived as quite the opposite process instead of developing, it fades. Through descent, later pieces inter earlier ones.
The argument might go: Opus 23, No. 1 is a masterpiece of form in its synthesis of
diverse materials, and establishment of it's own laws. It also succeeds in creating
the longest lines with the smallest building blocks, and may be found to be the most
emotionally compelling in its introspect song. No.2 as a companion piece offers
contrast through its satire of Allegro barbaro. No.3 uses larger building blocks
and is intellectually impressive, but more inefficient. Many parts seem desultory
and sectional; the achievement in line is not as great as in No.1. In No.4 the
picture fades more quickly. Schoenberg left it as a fragment for two years or so.
In its completed state it is full of ambiguity. The four hexachords from which the
piece is constructed mix haphazardly; the structural materials have little integrity.
No.4 can barely sustain itself formally, much less constitute a path to expansion of
form and the twelve-tone method. Finally, though No.5, in its reliance upon the
consistent use of some characteristic sonorities, is not so very different from the
other pieces, as a twelve-tone composition it appears to break away from the first
four pieces, even if the technique simply appears to be an elementary kind of

4lO
cycling through one fonn of the twelve tone row.40 This is a regressive picture of
Opus 23 as a transition in which the nonna! succession of beginning followed by
ending is inverted - an ending is followed by a new uncaused beginning. It is the
kind of transition suggested by the Strin~ Ouartet No.2, Op. lO. After the
Brahmsian tone is established in the beginning of the quartet, without preparation
the last movement introduces composition without a tonal center.
Either as progressive path to the method or as story of decline, these pieces
seem to be brought together to imply a path. A purely linear reading that is either
progressive or regressive may make a viable narrative in the manner of Aaron, but
impoverishes our sense of the pieces by subordinating earlier stages to later goals
and thereby emphasizing deficiencies. This is a view that conflicts with our
assessment above with respect to Schoen~rg's sense of how to represent the
processes of consciousness through melody. We found that heightening
memorability while decreasing periodic repetition entailed continuous thematic
variation supported by motives that link. In this sense, Op. 23 is a high point in
this kind of melodic writing.
If we take Schoenberg's Moses as our teacher then we might attempt a

40See Michael Friedmann, "Schoenberg's Waltz, Op. 23, No.5: Multiple

Mappings in Form and Row," TheoIY and Practice 18 (1993): 57-86. Friedmann,
noting that this work has been relegated to a secondary rank, provides an analysis
that illustrates the sophistication of which Schoenberg is capable even when treating
just one form of the row.

411
listening that emphasizes "the indirection of the march. "41 The convolutions of the
chronology express multiple pathways. The analogue to this in biology is
"speciation, where form is manifested by a large number of individuals undergoing
genetic changes."42 In an environment where there is a high degree of speciation the chronology seems to be indicative of something like this - one expects novelties
and innovations. At one level we want to get a sense of the creative variational
activity exhibited by these pieces. At another, we want to see that the network of
Schoenberg's creative enterprise, though in flux, is not without integrity.
Schoenberg's view of history attempts to harmonize the contradictory experiences
of discontinuity and continuity. This view has a compositional counterpart
expressed as developing variations which in similar fashion represents the idea of
onrushing change in a coherent form. Whe.n we ascribe telos to development, and
randomness to variation, we miss the factor that ties development and variation
together - selection.
Now we begin to explore a way of discussing these pieces in an
evolutionary sense which stems from analytical observations made by Schoenberg
himself: "There is ... , 'that fellow Mozart', who writes the following chord in the
G-minor Symphony."43 Allen Forte notes that this particular chord is pitch-class

4lWalzer, Exodus and Revolution, p. 66.

42George Kubler, The Shape of Time (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1962), p. 34.
43Schoenberg, Theory of Harmony, p. 324.

412
set 4-19 (0148) and points out that from the "standpoint of triadic tonality this
interpretation is untenable ... but is of the utmost importance for opening up the
universe of pitch-class sets and detaches pitch organization from the harmonic
contrapuntal syntax of triadic tonality. "44 But is pointing to a functionally disparate
use in Mozart really a convincing way for Schoenberg to justify his own use of
dissonance (Ex. 6.1)?
Evolutionary biologists make a distinction between entities related as
homologues and those related as analogues. Homologues are structurally related
but functionally different. such as, a human arm and a bird's wing. The
relationship implies a partially shared evolutionary pathway. A fly's wings and a
bird's wings are analogues. Though functionally similar, they are structurally
unrelated and arose along different evolutionary pathways. With an example from
Mozart, Schoenberg indicates a homologous relationship with his own music (Ex.

6.1). In Mozart's Symphony, each note of this chord functions as a neighbor tone
to a particular note of a dominant-seventh chord. Without the same rules of syntax
operating in Schoenberg's atonal music, there is no analogous function for this
chord. Not only does the use of this chord in a new unrestricted context open up
the universe of pitch-class sets, but implies a shared pathway, rather than
detachment, between structures that arise in both tonal and atonal contexts.

44Allen Forte, "Schoenberg's Creative Evolution," Musical Quarterly 53

(1968): 149.

413

Example 6.1
An example dDvn from Mozart's ~phony. No. 40 (flISt movement)
'Which OCCUIS as Example 233 in Schoenberg's Hannonie1ehre.

It is just this kind of relationship that will be useful in the discussion of how
Schoenberg's piano pieces transform the conventions of piano music, but will also
offer a way of comprehending structures as they arise and relate within the pieces.
Most of the discussion will deal with the fIrst piece in which the generative aspect
of motivic composition is most clearly disclosed.

IV
One month after completing Opus 23, while in the midst of composing
Opus 24 and Opus 25, Schoenberg typed out a paragraph entitled "Fundament"
(Foundation). This document can be taken as a positive statement of the
achievement of Opus 23 in specifying the new implications of the bass tone and of
inversions without the interference of other purposes:
Dass die altere Theorie une [sic1 auch die Komponisten nach den
Basstonen dnie [sic1 Harmonie massen und benannten, hangt damit
zusamrnen, dass sich die Harmonie damals von der einfachen
Nachamung des natqrlichnn Vorbil es noc [sic) wenig entfemt hane.
In diesem Sinn ist es hOchstwahrscheinIich, dass die modeme
Musik kaum vom Bass aus wird zu erkennen sein, wei! man wohl

414
sehr damit zu rechnen hat, dass U m k e hrungen eine sehr gross
Rolle spielen.45 (Schoenberg's emphasis.)
[That the older theory and also the composers measured and
named hannony according to the bass notes is related to the fact that
harmony then had not deviated much from the simple imitation of
the natural model. In this sense it is most probable that modem
music would hardly be recognizable from the bass, because one may
well have to reckon with the fact that inversions will playa very
great role.]
Given the role of the bass register as redefined in Opus 23 (the details of this we
shall come to directly), and the importance of inversional relationships in all five
pieces (about which there will be much more to say) one might understand
"Fundament" as a key statement about what Schoenberg discovered in Opus 23.
and how Schoenberg's perceptions were informed while working on Opus 24 and
Opus 25. In other words, this document testifies to a perceptual shift required of
the listener, if this music is to be comprehensible. But not only is this music about
reorienting our perceptions, it also remakes our ideas of piano music just along
these lines of bass tone and inversion.
Op. 23, No. I proposes a conceptual shift in the generative metaphor of
tonal piano music. The bass is no longer the harmonic generator, no longer the
wellspring of music. The piano that evolved along tonal lines - more idiomatic for
Rachmaninoffs purposes than Schoenberg's -- becomes a homologue of itself as
an instrument for atonal music. Call to mind a conventional opening for a tonal
piano piece beginning with a deep bass tone out of which some arpeggio is

45Schoenberg, "Fundament," 25 March 1923, The Arnold Schoenberg

Institute Archives, Los Angeles, California, unpublished. Schoenberg's typos are
preserved.

415

generated; the surface of the harmony is fmally crystallized in a theme. Whatever

the actual piece, and however the triad in the accompaniment figuration is
disguised, contact between a bass tone and the composing out of a triad has come to

be recognized as a metaphor for the generation of music. A paradigmatic example

would be the last movement of Beethoven's "Waldstein" Sonata where the bass
note is both the first note of the theme and the harmonic generator. the dampers are
raised and the music unfolds. An actual homologue of Op. 23. No. 1 exists in the
Capriccio, Op. 76, No.1 by Brahms. The three pitch classes that open this
Capriccio also open Op. 23, No.1: this is the homologue. One hears in the
Brahms the bass note and what seems like an arpeggio, but something is odd. The
pedaling is not lush: the triad does not ring out immediately. Only a three note
motive is heard handed off from register to .register. The gesture is right. but the
notes are unexpected. The tonic minor triad arpeggio fIlls out the measure. What
happens, though, when a composer has renounced tonality and this opening
formula is obsolete? The complete irrelevance of the tonal generative metaphor in
Schoenberg's Opus 23. No. 1 is all the more clearly defined against the background
of the Brahms Capriccio. The Capriccio expands into its space, presents only one
version of the trichord at a time: it is repetitive (relative to Opus 23, No.1) and
continuously draws strength from the bass register which generates both motive
and harmony. Opus 23, No.1 defines its space immediately through the
disposition of the pitches in the first sonority.

416
The first sonority is a difficult one to comprehend as both a simultaneity
and a dissonance. How does that which follows create a context for the
comprehensibility of the fIrst sonority?
Mutation. The fIrst three pitches in the bass <A, C, B> are of the same settype as the fIrst simultaneity [A, G#, F#] sharing A as a common bass tone. Three
intervals constitute the trichord: one of one semitone, one of two semitones and
one of three semitones. With the trichords originating in the tenor and soprano,
variation rather than development is the aim. In the tenor, the fIrst trichord <Ab, G,
Bb> is also composed of the same intervals, but is related to the bass trichord by
inversion. A more radical variation occurs in the soprano where two of the
intervals remain invariant, but the third is altered by a symmetry-breaking contour
variation which occurs where D# follows

(Ex. 6.2).

Example 6.2
Kla.vierstiick, Op. 23 , No.1
A retrograde asymmetry (D#) yields tva De" pitches and tva DeV in1eIV8l3.
I

,J

IJ

~J
-3

-1

~J

J +3 qJ
J qJ

J +1 ~J +3 #J

II

.J

II

-3
-3 dim.

IJ

~J

A mutation occurs where the melody proceeds <-3, + 1>. In effect, the
mutation yields a "diminished" <-3, +1>. Without the mutation, as the top line of
example 6.2 shows, the first four pitches would be mirrored in retrograde by the
second four pitches. The <+ 1, +3> trichord admits the possibility of ever wider
intervals in the melody. The "diminished" down three is a homologue for a -2, or 2

417
(-I)'s, as in measure 5. If <-2>, why not <+6>, doubling the magnitude of both
intervals? The result of the variational activity leads to the cultivation of more and
more intervals and operations.
Cultivatin~

possibilities. Another array of possibilities is suggested by the

counterpoint. From the first trichord in each of the three voices, the number of
possibilities increases when we count the trichords that may be harvested from
among these three sets. I would recall David Lewin's image of an organist who
improvises with three notes in the right hand, three in the left and three in the
pedal.46 Lewin asks what are the possible combinations of pitches and intervals
that will be heard? In this example, twenty-seven different combinations that
include eleven of the twelve three note set-types and many variations are shown
(Ex. 6.3). The remaining set-type, 3-1 (012), follows immediately in the soprano
line. The opening of Gp. 23, No. I is extremely rich in possibilities.

46David Lewin, "Forte's Interval Vector, My Interval Function, and

Regener's Common-Note Function," Journal of Music Theory (1977): 204.

418

Example 6.3
KlavierstW:k. Op. 23, No.1
All possible Uichems from the first three pc' s of each voice
(Qass. Tenor. soprano). Set-cla3s type and pcs axe noted belovo

~JiJJ
IJ&J~J
1Jd31
3-2 (013) ~
3-5 (016)
3-5 (016)
== J J 1
IJ J ~J IJ J 3 I
#

3-2 (013)

3-8 (026)

3-9 (027)

3-8 (026)

3-11 (037)

3-8 (026)

3-5 (016)

3-11 (037)

3-9 (027)

3-7 (025)

3-11 (037)

3-10 (036)

$r dtJ Ird~J IriJJI

$ r J ,J I r J ~J I F J J I

$r

J tJ I r J ~J I r J J I

3-4 (Ot 5)

3-12 (048)

3-11 (037)

3-3 (014)

3-5 (016)

3-4 (015)

$ r ~r
$r

3-8 (026)

~r

3-4 (015)

#J I r
#J I r

~r

3-7 (025)

~r

3-4 (Ot 5)

;J
~J

r ir

3-6 (024)

~r

3-3 (Ot 4)

JI
JI

Developing variation. Let us stand for a moment in measure 12 looking

back. In retrospect. we have heard two arching phrases. the second reaching a
higher climax than the first. The meter has followed a strict pattern. 4/g. 4/g 3/g. In
spite of the febrile variational activity. the piece at this point seems to model a

419

developmental process. Perhaps here we can experience the tension implicit in

Schoenberg's notion of developing variation.
Selection. Comparing the first and last measures of Opus 23, No.1, we
find that the three distinct trichords in the beginning of each voice return at the end.
F#, the soprano of measure 1, is lowered an octave at the end. F# at the end is
preceded by <0, F. D#(Eb), E, G>. These are pitches that followed from the F# in
the first three measures. (The Eb that begins measure 2 is not repeated at the end.)
This procedure could be formally described as a rotation whereby the first pitch
assumes the order position of the last, the second the order position of the first and
so forth. The D has a pivotal position in closing the work as it recalls the descent in
measure 33. <C, G. D> (Ex. 6.4). In the context of measures 29-33. this descent.
<C. G. 0> signals closure. From measure

29 on, there is intense developmental

activity which is interrupted by the very high soft chord in measure 33 from which
follows the <C. G. D> descent. This moment is the first time in the piece that one
unaccompanied voice becomes the focus of attention -- other activity ceases and
there is a fair expectation of imminent conclusion. In a larger context, the <C. G.
D> descent takes us back to measure 6 where it also served a phrase-ending
function in the midst of a more active texture. Whereas D is the common tone
between the <C. G, D> and <0. F, Eb, E, G, F#> in measures 33 and 34, D
serves similarly in measures 1-3, only C-G-D has not yet been selected for the
function it will serve in measures 6 and 33. If we study all possible intervals based
on the first trichord in each voice, there are already an astounding number of
possible intervals that can be selected for any function. <C, G, D> stands out as a

420

symmetrical trichord. Listening to the opening with <C, G, 0> in mind, the effect
of these notes is just opposite to their effect in measures 6 and 33. In measure 1
these pitches open up and define the space outlined by the skeletal opening
sonority. The dynamic markings pertaining to C, G and D are each forward
directed. Note also that A, G and 0 are marked identically. These three pitches
sound together in measure 34 where this sonority is developed. A potential
relationship from the beginning is transformed and realized at the end.

Example 6.4
KlavieI3tUckl Op. 23, No.1
[C, G, DJ reside in the first three no1eS of each voice. They occur melodically

in ~andm. 33;J'CJo~j'ture.

II

p:

II

~r

p: J

II

Multiples in Structure and Function. Measure 12 closes the first section of

the piece with a gesture reminiscent of the close of Schoenberg's Opus 19, No.6
where above the final descending interval Schoenberg writes wie ein Hauch.
Closing in this way (m. 12), Schoenberg defmes the bass as a region of mystery
and obscurity rather than according to the harmonically-defining and generative way
it functions in tonal music. The line goes into the bass, as an actor goes offstage.
As good directors do, Schoenberg returns his actor through the same path along
which he made his exit. In measure 16 the line returns recapitulating the soprano's

421
opening notes and ascends from register to register. Before the line returns an
ostinato figure occurs in a way entirely distinct from the theme. This ostinato
which provides impetus to the B section of the piece, will also be instrumental in
creating a sense of closure.
The chord in measure 33 that brings a halt to the developmental activity of
the piece is inversionally related to the molto staccato ostinato that commenced in
measure 13 (6.5). (There is also a thematic relationship with measure 24 in the left
hand.) That structurally related sets serve opposing functions is not just a matter of
their structure, but a matter of how these sets are made to function. The chord in
measure 33 gently interrupts the activity whether we hear the connection with
measure 13 or not. And yet structurally the chord is disquieting, demanding to be
understood as part of the configuration of structures. A structural tie with measure
13, a measure at which point the piece seems to begin again, adds formal
significance to the functional role of the chord.

Example 6.5
KlavierstUck, Op. 23 No. 1
The chord that signals closure (m. 33 light hand) is inversionally rela1td
to the osti:nalD (m. 33 left hand) vhich opens the B section of the the piece.
I

II 33

"1 C I B
13 Jt.~

The formal process of Opus 23, No. 1 might be summarized this way:
from the variations of the smallest building blocks comprehensively organized by

422
the relations among the three voices. a line is constructed in two long phrases. It
reaches a climax (m. lO) and is dissolved in the bass (m. 12). A contrasting
ostinato figure is derived from material in the flISt section. The main theme reemerges from the bass; the two remain distinct. A third section begins at measure
22 with a varied reprise of the opening. Through this section the opening theme
and ostinato are synthesized. The development is arrested by the preparation and
return of the opening.
Opus 23, No.2. The homologous relationships on which to focus in Opus
23 No.2 concern the transfonnations of chords into melodic lines and lines into
chords (Ex. 6.6). This technique embodies the identification of the horizontal with
the vertical. The first and last trichords in measure 1 relate to the climactic chord of
measure 5 this way. The chord in measure.5 returns inverted in measure 7, and
again in measure 13.
In measure 5, we can compare the left hand and right hand parts to those in
the B section that begins in measure 8. In the left hand, the lines of measure 5
become the right-hand chords of measure 8: the right-hand chords of measure 5
become the left-hand lines of measure 8. We could continue to trace the
relationship from the Gb, right-hand measure 6 and the end of measure 8 through
measure 9.
Another comparison between the chords of measure 4 and the melody of
measure 17 shows earlier chords becoming later lines. The piece seems to argue
that what is comprehensible as melody should also be comprehensible as harmony;
the justification of the vertical is of the same order as the justification of the

423
horizontal. The functional and formal significance is not contingent upon the
structural identity. The pesante section (m. 17) although derived from measure 4,
is fonnally the antipode to the etwas ruhiger im Ausdruck section of (m. 8). And
even measures 5 and 8 though structurally related are part of contrasting formal
sections.

Example 6.6

KlavieI3tUck, Op. 23, No.2 (m. 4 and m. 17).

The chords in Ule left Jwul of m. 4 become the melody
inm.17.

tr.
3
8

With respect to closure in the piece, in measure 20 we hear the theme in

counterpoint with its inversion. The axis Schoenberg chooses is conducive to
closure; both the normal and inversional forms hold the fmal pitches invariant. The

424
order reversal of the last two pitches of the inversional fonn of the series <Db, Bb>
closes a gesture that had been invariably anacrustic (Ex. 6.7).
Example 6.7
KlavierS1U.ck, Op. 23, No.2
The invened fonn (mm. 19-21) of the opening theme (m. 1) preselWs two piTChes
and reverses their order vhich contributes 1'0 the sense of closure.

4' ':-r 'r ~r' ~r -r trtfl

yo

I':~J

20

Ii ~U ~l

II

'lJt ~ @j #]"

Opus 23 No.3. Composed two years after the first movement of Opus 25,
Op. 23, #3 exhibits an extremely sophisticated relationship between beginning and
end. Several inversional relationships have been pointed out already, but none that
plays out the action of inversion about a center as powerfully as this one. In the
illustration four chords and their relationships are notated (Exx. 6.8 and 6.9).

425
Example 6.8
KlavieI3tiick, Op. 23, No.3 (mm. 30-35)
This i3 a schematic represen1l.tiDn of the pIiDcipal S1rUCtu1'eS 10 clarify the
illustrative use of inveI3ion.

, 'p p Ip I"~~f i'~f "~~f lip p ., I

Chord I Chord II

&

~J

r If

JI

p: ~; ~p ., I ijU~1 ..'-~ ij"~1 lip ~p i'11

Chord III Chord IV

Example 6.9
KlavieIStUck, Op. 23, No.3 (mm. 30-35)
Summ.aIY of chordal tranSfonnations.

IV

T7

~!

$" .. I ~ ~II
):C/C",

III

Inv.C/G

II

426
A prior question: why does Schoenberg select F to begin the answer in (m.
2)? Pitch organization follows pitch symmetries. We fmd that F is the inversionally
related pitch to Bb if attention is paid to the inversionaI potential of the segment <0.
E. B. C#>. F emerges in the inversionaI invariance matrix (Bb=O) manifest as a
diagonal of 7's (Ex. 6.10). On account of the transposition on F. a succession of
descending intervals <Bb. D. F. A> stakes out the tonal space symmetrically above
and below the central interval [0, F] which is also a pitch symmetry that occurs in
the axis that maps C onto G. This axis takes increasing control of the music in
measure 26. The C/G axis is in complete control of the voices during the canonic
episode (mm. 26-29): first <Bb, D. E, B, e#> in canon with its inversion <.A. F.
Eb, Ab. Gb>, then <F, A. B. F#. G#> as the comes following its inversion <0.
Bb. Ab, Db, Cb> as the dux. The canons are linked via more and more material in
perfect mirror inversion from the GG axis to become a paradigmatic study in mirror
inversion.
Example 6.10
Inversion invariance matrices for <04613> and. <046137>.
04613
48A57
6A079
15724
37946

046131
48A51B
6A0191
151248
31946A
7B18A2

When we hear the interval [C, G] become the audible center (m. 30), the
four chords are then reflected above and below this center. This music becomes a
true depiction of the inversional process as equilibrium -- there are no mutations. A

427

premise for hearing is established not just by the operation. but through its
illustrative use in which the hannonies literally balance around a center. Such a
passage becomes paradigmatic for the conceptual framework of the composer and
listener.
Gp. 23. No.4. The circumstances of No.4 are special for two reasons.

After completing the first 13 measures and aborting an attempt at a fourteenth.

Schoenberg did not resume work on it for two and half years. At some point in this
process Schoenberg analyzed the first page to show that the piece arises from four
hexachords (Ex. 6.1 I). The basic details are furnished in the illustration. Bryan
Simms in his textbook on twentieth-century music saw this as an opportunity to
finish the analysis Schoenberg had begun, in order for it to serve as a paradigmatic
analysis for the introduction of his book.47 For Martha Hyde Schoenberg's
analysis highlights methodological problems left unsolved by Schoenberg.
Of the two problems she points to. one concerns motivic reprise: that the
central idea is not sufficiently well defined by OIjer or contour to make the form
comprehensible. The other concerns motivic alteration: that the pitches of a basic
set may be altered outside the framework of the canonical operations, blurring the
distinction between sets and the form itself.
Hyde's

analysi~

is predicated on the centrality of Hexachord A (Ex. 6.11).

After a multitude of forms of Hexachord A are used in the fIrst measures (A3, 16.
the complement of A3. Ag,

h) with little regard for order or contour. the prime

41Bryan R. Simms, Music of the Twentieth Century: Style and Structure

(New York: Schirmer Books. 1986). pp. i-xiv.

428

form of A returns in the fourth measure, by virtue of Schoenberg's labeling six

pitches A. Can we recognize a return of Hexachord A as we knew ii: in measure I?
Hyde finds the labeling of A unconvincing as a motivic reprise. But the expectation
of a one-to-one relationship between structure and function, that a structure always
functions the same way, seems unwarranted.
Example 6.11

KlavieI3tUck, Op. 23, No.4

The four (4) hexachords designa1ed by Schoenberg, and IS identUled by
set-class type.

Hex.B 6-24

II ':~F
Hex. C 6-14

~ij I

Hex. 0 6-210

The use of "basic sets" is free indeed, but other parameters might clarify the
listening. Even though Hexachord A is the principal line, the rhythmic idea to
which measure 2 responds is introduced by Hexachords C and D. The perpetual
motion springs from this. Hexachord A is further de-emphasized through the
development of the thirds in the right hand of measure 10 and throughout measures
14-16.
Most importantly there is a groundshift between Hexachords A and C.
Hexachord C, which we first heard as a spark within Hexachord A (m. 1), begins
to compete for centrality in measure 20 and establishes itself in the coda (m. 30)
while Hexachord A has become consistently more obscure.

429
Hexachord C is partitioned 4 + 2 in the coda. (m. 30). Four pitches are
inversionally related I AID plus the remaining pitches <F. D. The piece closes
with a reminder of Hexachord A - as we remember it from measure 1 - above the
closing figure made from Hexachord A. When this closing figure becomes
Hexachord D. a similar but less dissonant set. the piece attains closure on
Hexachord C.
Op. 23. No.5. The first four pieces appear to evolve through the
generation of homologues. structurally related but functionally differentiated
entities. Through variation an array of structures arises that can meet the formal
requirements of a piece. Consistent in its use of contextually derived structures.
Opus 23. No.5. Walzer. like its predecessors. generates its own homologues,
which converge with analogous structures familiar from waltzes. Differentiation of
the prime form of the set. used exclusively in this piece, is achieved through the
creation of analogues. At the same time order is held invariant.
Richard Hoffmann has pointed out that the kind of extended anacrusis
represented in measure 18 and its contour inversion (mm. 88-89) is of the kind
familiar from Die FIedermaus. The two passages are associated through their joint
reference to the gesture of anacrusis, which is a convention in the Viennese Waltz.
Contour inversion also pertains to the defining quality of the bass. In measures 22
and 23 there are a series of gestures rising from the bass. The analogy with the
waltz stems from both rhythm and imitation of tonal gesture. When this gesture is
tuned upside-down, the tonal analogue is counteracted and leads to the dissolution
of the piece (Ex. 6.12).

430
Example 6.12
Klaviel3tUck, Op. 23, NO.5

Gestural analogy vith Strauss' Die P1edennaus. Inversion hexe i3 by contJur.

Ii

b.~Lh. ~ ... ~. ~"-

~~

I~r I

v
These remarks have been aimed at demonstrate how one's understanding of
a historical framework may enhance or impoverish the understanding of a musical
composition. We began with Schoenberg's own positions. Of the two positions
shown, Schoenberg's better known evolutionary position holds that the
renunciation of the tonal center and ensuing discoveries developed from trends in
western music that occurred during the mid-nineteenth century and earlier. This
gradualist account places the twelve-tone method among the great achievements in
the development of western music. Schoenberg's narrative style makes the advent
of this difficult-to-comprehend music comprehensible through his use of a
developmental evolutionary historical framework. Within this framework, his
music should be comprehensible in terms of its direction toward its goal. Opus 23
seems custom made for this purpose -- the musical analogue to the historical

431
narrative. The fallout from this position has been the subordination of Opus 23 to
the twelve-tone works, and some perplexity because the pieces do not exhibit a
unidirectional evolution toward the twelve-tone method. In this light Opus 23 is not
a lesser work. The historical framework has led to a distortion.
I would argue for exchanging the developmental framework for a Darwinian
one because the expectations it raises fit better with historical and musical evidence.
The Darwinian model is more sensitive to the creative in evolution. Here I would
mention some basic tenets that make the Darwinian model attractive as a historical
framework and provocative as an analytic framework. According to the Darwinian
model we ought to expect: sloppy creativity, a quirky order to history, no
incremental series of stages (evolutionists, who share the view of Stephen Jay
Gould, do not recognize "2 percent of a wing, ") and a lack of optimization in the
relationship between structures and functions. In other words, the haphazard
chronology is expected and is the appropriate environment for important change.
Opus 23 cannot then be considered to be some percent on the way toward serialism.
And finally the model teaches us not to impose standards of optimization upon the
pieces.

In terms of a framework for analysis, the principle of multiples stipulates

that there is no one-to-one mapping of structures to functions. This was evident in
No.2 where we saw that chords structurally related to lines were not necessarily
functionally or formally related to those lines. The structures were co-opted to
serve other formal and functional needs. Multiples in the first piece also made
available many parts to function diversely within the piece. It is not my claim that a

432
Darwinian analysis is necessitated by the historical framework. but rather that
certain aspects of the framework alert us to important disparities between structure
and function.
Schoenberg required multiple historical models to justify the multiple
directions of his creative activities. We can then understand the multiple direction
as part of the refractory effect of the two opponents pushing him away from the
Origin in Opus 23 or back toward the origin with the systematic optimizations and
uses of old forms as in Opus 25. Karl Kraus wrote of the move toward origins as a
move toward one's true self. and this notion probably influenced Schoenberg. But
who were the opponents? Some remarks Schoenberg wrote upon receiving an
award for outstanding achievement show that he knew who the opponents were
from experience in battle:
[ had fallen into an ocean. into an ocean of overheated water. and
it burned not only my skin. it burned also internally. And [could
not swim. At least [ could not swim with the tide. All [ could do
was swim against the tide -- whether it saved me or not! [see that [
was always in the red. And when you call this an achievement. so
forgive me, [ do not understand of what it might consist. That [
never gave up? I could not - I would have liked to. I am proud to
receive this award under the assumption that I have achieved
something. Please do not call it false modesty if I say: Maybe
something has been achieved but it was not I who deserve the credit
for that. The credit must be given to my opponents. They were the
ones who really helped me."48

48H.H. Stuckenschmidt. Arnold Schoenberg: His Life. World and Work,

trans. Humphrey Searle (London: John Calder, 1977), p. 546. From the letter of
thanks to the National Institute of Arts and Letters. May 1947.

433

CHAPTER VII
BETWEEN PITCH-CLASS AND EMPFINDUNGSWELT
Lecturing on the experience of playing Hamlet. the actor Ben Kingsley
began with a few thoughts about the brief history of life on earth in light of the vast
age of the planet. The claim may seem far-fetched that to place the task of acting the
role of Hamlet in context we must consider the history of the universe. but he
insisted on this as instructive for our capacity to develop a grasp of things in their
totality. Theater promotes this development by recognizing that in the total scheme
of things. civilization is in its infancy and must learn how to keep pace with. if not
outpace its tendencies to run amok. It is not that our art to have virtue must achieve
universal appeal. but that our art must help us become conscious of our place in the
universe - of our situatedness in space and our situatedness in time. Kingsley thus
transported the question of our consciousness of time to those arenas in which we
confront the cognitive demands of art. Consciousness of our situation in time alters
as our perceptual field is enlarged. Perfonners. whose job it is to enlarge our

434
perceptual field, offer a totality to our senses. which means for musical
perfonnance the setting forth of a full world of sound and experience.
A cornerstone of Schoenberg's thought are his ideas about totality and our
capacity to grasp it:
Man is petty. We do not believe enough in the whole thing, in
the great thing, but demand irrefutable details. We depend too little
upon that capacity which gives us an impression of the object as a
totality containing within itself all details in their corresponding
relationships. We believe that we understand what is natural; but the
miracle is extremely natural, and the natural is extremely miraculous.
The more exactly we observe, the more enigmatic does the
simplest matter become to us. We analyse because we are not
satisfied with comprehending nature, effect and function of a totality
as a totality and, when we are not able to put together again exactly
what we have taken apart, we begin to do injustice to that capacity
which gave us the whole together with its spirit, and we lose faith in
our finest ability - the ability to receive a total impression.!
How does a sense of a total impression come about? How does the
perception of a total impression go together with abstract or analytic perspectives?
Schoenberg addresses these questions while setting forth his views of musical
perception. These views are colored by concerns about historical situatedness
which are further problematized by a belief in the evolution of perception. In their
scope, the questions Schoenberg raises are resonant with questions explored by
Mach and Bergson. While both Mach and Bergson were evolutionists, each
formulated his own approach to the psychology of perception. A comparison of
their philosophies forms an essential context for Schoenberg's views.

I Arnold

449.

Schoenberg, "Gustav Mahler" (1912,1948), Style and

Ide~

p.

435
Inherent as well in Schoenberg's views are guiding principles which bear
on performance. These guiding principles stem from two visions which will be
modeled for the time being as polar opposites (fig. 7.l). Though displaying
Schoenberg's views in rudimentary fashion, figure 7.l is intended to be a way of
keeping track of our course while we circumnavigate its compass points.
Figure 7.1

Vision' - new resources of pitch organization.

homo logues ,
motive.
fleeting references
TTO's *'
to key s, sustaining Serialism
old forms.

TIJrrJ8!fldl1J0tjJi0linti:--:-:-:-::-__-::1-:-:--:--:---I' nnov8ti 0n
Enriching the use of Klan9~markings, e og. do Ice, me lodie
scherzando,
espressivo, etc Heterogeneity
of the tone
0

Vis; 0n II - new reso urces of ti mb re 8nd

harmonics.

*' twelve-tone operators

Vision 1. In 1923 Schoenberg expressed a vision for new music driven by
"the unconscious urge to try out the new resources independently [from the old
ways], to wrest from them possibilities of constructing forms. to produce with
them alone all the effects of a clear style. of a compact, lucid and comprehensive

436
presentation of the musical idea."2 (Emphasis added.) This is not to say that the
new ways and resources did not also sustain the past as suggested in quadrant four
(Fig. 7.1). As the terms of the program are spelled out in "Twelve-Tone
Composition" (1923), Schoenberg is already beginning to put them into effect in
Opus 23. To illustrate his "trying out" the new resources, we find that the first
eruption of the theme of Op. 23. No.2 is inversionally related to its penultimate
appearance in the piece (Ex. 7.1). The level of transposition is such that the pitches
<Bb, Db>. which made a striking opening gesture at the crest of the first
crescendo. occur in reverse order and contour, now <Db, Bb> in a low register and
at a slower pace. and become a primary detail in the process of closure. This detail
becomes a cue to the performer to enhance the effect of the inversion operation by
playing it. according to Schoenberg's markings. as the antithesis of the opening
gesture. An understanding of the "new resources" often goes hand in hand with
performerly interpretation. Since the second piece does not come to a point of
repose on the Bb. we will return later to Op. 23. No.2 to take note of some of
Schoenberg's expressive markings. particularly the dolce marking in the final
measure of the piece.

2Schoenberg, "Twelve-Tone Composition" (1923), Style and Idea, p. 207.

437
Example 7.1

Opus 23, No.2

CIoSUTe through oIder reversal.

~ ~ 2:'r -r ~f , ~r -u
f

itilJ

'1

:::v

I
;tl

~: ~J ~iJ~Uql~~@J ~I
Vision H. In 1911, Schoenberg expressed another vision. The TheolY of
Hannony, revised as we know around the time he composed Opus 23, closes with
a futuristic meditation on tone color, and the possibilities of KIan~farbenmelodie for
composition. In this context, Schoenberg voices his misgivings about the
conventional understanding of tone, tone color and pitch: "I think the tone becomes
perceptible by virtue of tone color, of which one dimension is pitch. Tone color is,
thus. the main topic, pitch a subdivision. Pitch is nothing else but tone color
measured in one direction."3 This discussion of tone color picks up on a line of
thought Schoenberg left dangling in his Chapter 3, just at the threshold of his
practical discussion of tonal harmony: a tone is a composite, inherently hannonic.
With respect to sensation, tone is thick, while pitch is thin. Another example from
Op. 23, No.2 which also holds two pitches invariant illustrates a point about the
new resources and tone color. Sustained in the same pedal are fIrst an arpeggiated
hexachord (composed of two inversionally-related trichords) followed by a
hexachord, marked rum, related by either transposition or transposed inversion to
3Schoenberg, TheolY of Harmony, p. 421.

438
the arpeggio. There is also an articulation mark after the arpeggio, so the arpeggio
does not make an accelerando headlong into the chord. How should the chord be
balanced? How should its relationship to the arpeggio be made audible? Should
the new register be brought out? How should the chord sound after the pedal is
released? Should the two invariant pitches necessarily be the most prominent?
There is a sketch page for the second piece upon which appears just this chord with
dynamics assigned each note (Ex. 7.2). According to this sketch, the pianist brings
out [Bb, Db, F] forte while playing the other pitches softly. But who knows if
these markings really have anything to do with the performance of Op. 23, No.2?
Given the compositional constraints governing the pitches, I think the player can go
-for broke attempting to create the greatest amount of hannonic excitation the
instrument can produce, and then let the ear attend not only to motivic relationships
but to the most distant harmonics. This follows the spirit of Schoenberg's remarks
about tone and color and the history of music.
Example 7.2
Opus 23 , No.2
a) m. 7, b) tran3cription of skeu:h of chord vith dynamics

~~

I)
L

It

~ttG"

fi
~.

....

~I

~)

j~-

~~B-

439
Historical Programs. Each of these two visions entails a historical program.
Music as the exploration of the contents of the tone has two aspects to it, the
musically evolutionary and the human evolutionary. According to the deterministic
view, music has evolved by drawing progressively more complex resources from
the seemingly infinite harmonic possibilities inherent in the tone, and music will
continue to evolve as once remote harmonic relationships grow more familiar to the
ear. But this view is not so deterministic as it seems at first because all this is
predicated on the contingent evolution of the ear itself. A word is needed to explain
what we mean by the evolution of the ear. In his The Analysis of Sensations, Ernst
Mach ponders whether the evolution of music during his lifetime is evidence for a
corresponding evolution of the ear:
To a person accustomed to looking at things from the point of
view of the theory of evolution, the high development of modem
music and the spontaneous and sudden appearance of great musical
. talent seem, at first glance. a most singular and mysterious
phenomenon. What can this remarkable development of the power
of hearing have to do with the preservation of the species? Does it
not far exceed the measure of the necessary or the merely useful?
What can possibly be the significance of a tine discrimination of
pitch? Of what use to us is the sense of intervals, or of the acoustic
colorings of orchestral music?4
Mach's answer evokes the principle of neoteny by which youthful characteristics
such as boundless imagination and "the retention of freedom to overstep ruutine
barriers" staves off the tendency to become "fixed" in one's ways with the onset of

-l-Ernst Mach, The Analysis of Sensations, trans. C.M. Williams (New

York: Dover Publishing, 1959), p. 307.

440
maturity.5 (No doubt this point of view contributes to the archetype of Mozart as
"eternal child," an image never quite compatible with the bald, intensely gazing
Schoenberg of Egon Schiele or Man Ray). It is not that changes in the physiology
of the ear will enable the rare individual to hear with uncanny sensitivity, but that
occasionally an artist will- through the outlook Joseph Agassi calls "assured
agnosticism" -- find inroads through a flexibility in the use of the senses, and a
willingness to throw things into jeopardy beyond any child's capacity to bear
uncertainty.6 That this view emphasizes the multiplicity experienced in the
sensation of tone, and entails a historical course of multiple pathways, it avoids
determinism. There is also a mystical aspect to this program, exclusively Mach's,
to which we shall return.
Affiliated with this program of the tone, is a related observation about
rhythm and harmony which emphasizes a blurring of boundaries. It occurs in the
chapter "Rhythm (Takt) and Harmony" of the Harmonielehre in which Schoenberg
ponders the impossibility of finding a unifying principle for the relationship of
rhythm and harmony:
I believe this attempt would be just as difficult as it would be to
try to find a key to all relations of light and shadow possible for a
particular object, at all hours of the day, in all seasons, with

5Ibid., p. 308.
6Joseph Agassi, "Assurance and Agnosticism," Science in Flux (Dordrecht,
Holland: D. Reidel Publishing Company, 1975), pp. 515-23.

441

consideration of all conceivable cloud formations, etc. And just as

superfluous !7
As with the tone, the emphasis is on multiplicity over unity, and unboundedness in
the face of the periodicities inherent in conventional notation. Schoenberg once
again accents the open ended possibilities for composition and consequently the
indirection of history's pathways.
Customarily the Five Piano Pieces, Ope 23 are regarded in terms of
Schoenberg's vision for music which culminated in twelve-tone serial ism. In this
context Opus 23 plays a transitional role. Essays such as "My Evolution" embed
Opus 23 in this narrative. Schoenberg's narrative establishes a claim of priority on
the twelve-tone method, and -- as narratives of complicated matters do accomplishes a simplification. This narrative is imposed upon a diverse and varied
creative enterprise and narrowly locates Opus 23 as the transitional stage
Schoenberg called "working with the tones of the motive." Schoenberg's
narratives also have three tendencies: 1) they linearize activities that belie a
labyrinthine "network of enterprises,"8 supporting Schoenberg's creative world, 2)
they subordinate earlier works to later works invoking the evolutionary hypothesis
that intermediate forms do not survive, which skews our appreciation. and 3) they
attempt to layout a historicist program for music. Karl Popper's early first hand
exposure to the historicism of the Schoenberg Circle sensitized him to the breaches

7Schoenberg, Theory of Hannony, 202.

8Howard E. Gruber, "Cognitive Psychology, Scientific Creativity," On
Scientific Discovery (Boston: D. Reidel, 1977), pp. 295-322.

442
of method rampant in the social sciences which he denounced in his The Poverty of
Historicism.
On Tone, Ear and Empfindungswelt. Embracing both of Schoenberg's
futuristic visions, the one concerning the composition of the tone, and the other
concerning composition with twelve-tones, we raise two questions that bear on
performance. First, there is the question of how to conceive of the sound quality
appropriate for Schoenberg's music. The most outstanding feature of
Schoenberg's ensemble music sound is the heterogeneity of sound innate in his
scoring. It is an impression affirmed by live performances of: Erwartung, in
which the textures remain transparent while a large and high-wattage orchestra
never obscure the singing voice: Moses und Aron, in which the heterogeneity of the
Voice of the Burning Bush represents the composite sensations produced by the
Greater Unity behind it: the Serenade, Op. 24 written more or less concurrently
with Opus 23 which is a work that likewise accentuates textural and timbrel
diversity: and richly coloristic works such as the Five Orchestral Pieces and the
Piano Concerto. By contrast, Opus 23 is a set of pieces for the piano, an
instrument that evolved along tonal lines, and designed to emphasize homogeneity
and evenness of tone so as to ring true for tonal triadic harmony -- Helmholtz
makes this abundantly clear. The paths of musical and instrumental evolution
diverge with Schoenberg. Our sense of the piano must therefore be revised: the
piano stands between the enriched tone or timbrel structure of Schoenberg's
heterogeneous scoring, and an abstract tone effaced of coloristics that can present
an evolving musical structure in its immediacy. The second question involves the

443
quality of the experience, that is, the traditional and non-traditional pathways the
pieces take. The sound concept bears on the experience as new resources assume
roles in fulfillment of both emergent novelties and traditional expectations for piano
pieces.

In the matter of sound, Schoenberg introduces his ideas in the very

remarkable chapter "Consonance and Dissonance" of the Harmonielehre concerning
tone, sensation. consonance and dissonance:
The material of music is the tone: what it affects first, the ear.
The sensory perception releases associations and connects tone, ear,
and the world of feeling [Empfindungsweltl. On the cooperation of
these three factors depends everything in music that is felt to be art. 9
Tone, ear, and Empfindungswelt -- which Roy Carter translates as "world of
feelings" but in tenns of this discussion might be better understood as world of
sensations -- constitute the triad of factors on which art music stands. The ear has
three jobs vis-a-vis tone. First, it must receive the sensation of the tone, a job for
which the ear is well suited. As Schoenberg says, tone and ear fit together like
convex and concave parts. Through the fortuity of its design the ear can gain
knowledge of a tone's contents and properties, and this is the second job: to
explore and grow more familiar with the distant overtones. That which cannot be
discerned analytically is heard as tone color. Finally, the third job is the
comprehension of tones in the context of an actual composition. What does
Empfindungswelt mean vis-a-vis tone and ear? If the world of sensations is
thought of as a faculty, then what kind of faculty is it? Schoenberg writes:

9Schoenberg, Theory of Harmony, p. 19.

444

One of the three factors however, the world of our [sensations1,

so completely eludes precisely controlled investigation that it would
be folly to place the same confidence in the few conjectures
permitted by observation in this sphere that we place in those
conjectures that in other matters are called 'science.'IO
This is a strong hint that Empfindungswelt is an expression of Schoenberg's
metaphysics. Still there is a slightly more concrete clue about the nature of tone and
holistic perception:
.. .It is quite certain that [all the overtones 1contribute more or
less; that of the acoustical emanations of the tone nothing is lost.
And it is just as certain that the world of sensations somehow takes
into account the entire complex. hence the more distant overtones as
wel1.1 1 (Emphasis added.)
Tone, following Helmholtz, is defined by its most outstanding property the
sounding overtone series, so that tone may be regarded as a composite, manifold,
harmonic in itself. In this sense, any notion of a non-harmonic tone is a
contradiction. Given the composite emanations of the tone, we next pursue how
the world of sensations "somehow takes into account" the totality of the tone.
The tradition has been mainly interested in the unity of the tone. Fifteen and
a half centuries ago, Boethius posed the question: if a string vibrates in many parts,
why do we hear but a single tone? Boethius asked his readers to imagine a top with
one stripe of red or some other color applied to it. When the top spins "the red

IOSchoenberg, Theory of Harmony, p. 19.

II Ibid., p. 20.

445
stripe overwhelms the clear parts. and they are not allowed to appear. "12 Our
vision deals with the motion of the top by effecting an illusion of continuity and
homogeneity. This is analogous to how our senses deal with the sounds produced
by a vibrating string. Though the string vibrates in many parts, we perceive a
unified tone, a pitch, i.e., we hear with the hedgehog's ears one big thing.
Helmholtz experimented with the perception of pitch and the effect of
individual overtones upon tone color. The synthetic perception of tone color in
Helmholtz's view is a faculty of a lower grade of perception than that possessed by
the analytic ear:
The second and higher grade is when we immediately distinguish
the sensation in question as an existing part of the sum of the
sensations excited in us. We will say then that the sensation is
perceived analytically ... the upper partials of a musical tone are
perceived synthetically ['a lower grade of perception.'] ... The
dispute turns upon whether in all cases they can be perceived
analytically in their individual existence; that is, whether the ear
when unaided ... can by mere direction and intensity of attention
distinguish whether, and if so in what force, the octave, the twelfth,
&c, of the prime exists in the given musical sound ...The upper
partial tones can be made objects of analytical perception without
any other help than a proper direction of attention. 13
To a limited extent Schoenberg agrees with Helmholtz given Schoenberg's remarks

12Boethius, Fundamentals of Music, Music Theory Translation Series, ed.

Claude Palisca, trans. Calvin M. Bower (New Haven: Yale University Press,
1989), p. 12.
13Hermann Helmholtz, On the Sensation of Tones, ed. and trans.
Alexander J. Ellis (New York: Dover Publications, 1954), pp. 62-65.

446

about the ubiquity of parallel fifths in organ melody. 14 Critics replied to

Schoenberg that the fifths used to reinforce the full organ sound are not heard as
fifths, but as "fullness." Schoenberg heard fifths, not the sonic melange which is
an inferior grade of perception. Though hearing "fullness" is a kind of taking in
everything, it is not the idea behind Empfindungswelt.
Had he been a follower of Helmholtz and Mach, Schoenberg would never
have claimed that there are aspects of sensation which elude scientific investigation.
For Mach scientific investigation begins and ends with the analysis of sensations.
Three points made briefly about Mach's position show that he had his own idea of a
world of sensations, but one rather different from Schoenberg's. First, sensation is
a salient factor in all phases of investigation:
It is true that in abstracting, the attention is turned away from
many sensational elements; but on the other hand, it is turned toward
other new sensational elements; and precisely this latter fact is the
essential feature ... Every abstraction is founded on the prominence
given to certain sensational elements. IS
Mach. however. recast the notion of sensation to include the kind of empathetic
understanding we might associate with Dilthey's philosophy of history. When
Mach compares the sensation of hunger to the tendency of sulfuric acid for zinc,
Nobelist Stanley Jaki in his critique responds: "This tendency might have been a
sensation for sulfuric acid and for zinc, and perhaps for both, but certainly not for

14See Mach. The Analysis of Sensations, p. 268. Mach points out that
Helmholtz's work on tone was in low repute at the time which might account for
Schoenberg's wariness in making the overtone theory a primary assumption.
ISIbid .

p. 325.

447
Mach or for anyone else, however hungry, to have a sensation of that tendency." 16
For musicians Mach's words remind us not to become divorced from sensations,
but also as Jaki warns, we must be careful about the motivations we impute to the
tendency of tones. The quandary in Mach is the view of the world as a series of
unconnected events perceived as an experience of discrete sensational elements.
Music, as a coherent succession of composed events, is hardly a reflection of our
experience in the world at all. And it has puzzled thinkers that Mach found notions
of 'atoms' and 'corpuscles' disturbingly metaphysical, yet he held the atomistic
view of "mental data" as valid.
Second, Mach reports the following:
On a bright summer day in the open air, the world with my ego
suddenly appeared to me as one coherent mass of sensations, only
more strongly coherent in the ego ...This moment was decisive for
my whole point ofview. 17
On the basis of this experience, Mach repudiates dualism. His experience is that of
a totality in which there is no distinction between an inner and an outer nature of
things; the physical and psychological are continuous. There is one world.
Third, Mach believed that the cognitive evolution of the human being was
essentially complete. Human cognitive ability had adjusted or adapted to the
objective order of things in Nature. Thus Mach comprehended the totality,
16Stanley Jaki, The Road to Science and the Ways to God (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1978), p. 159.
17Mach, The Analysis of Sensations, p. 30. See also Leon Botstein, "Time
and Memory: Concert Life, Science, and Music in Brahms's Vienna," Brahms and
His World, ed. Walter Frisch (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), pp.
15-20.

448

completed its analysis, and thereby formed a bond with nature which took on a
mystical aspect.
Looking at ways in which a totality of sensations may be comprehended,
we are seeking resonance with Schoenberg's idea of Empfindungswelt. Boethius
sought to explain how the multiplicity of tone is perceived in the unity of pitch.
Helmholtz distinguished between analytic and synthetic perception: synthetic
perception supplements the analytic perception of pitch, merely taking in the sound
as a color. Mach finds the totality of the physical world at one with his ego, and
then proceeds through analysis to experience the physical world as so many
disconnected atom-like sensations. Empfindungswelt implies a world of sensation
as a totality, not Mach's world of discrete sensations. Memory and time playa
greater role in Schoenberg's view and indicate a greater inclination to the view
Bergson sets forth.
A quarter of the way through his copy of Bergson's [ntroduction to
Metaphysics, Schoenberg drew a single line alongside a small paragraph locating
the essay's center of gravity, and perhaps a point of contact between Bergson's
thought and his own.IS The paragraph encapsulates Bergson's view of the
approach to science represented by Mach specifically and its analysis of the psyche
through the classification of discrete psychological states represented by what
Bergson calls "partial notations." But in a general sense, the passage speaks of two
kinds of knowledge: analytic approaches that cannot account for either the

18Henri Bergson, Einfuhrung in die Metaphysik (lena: E. Diedrichs,

19(2). Archives of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute.

449
dynamism of perception or the direct experience of change, and intuition that can.
In the summarizing paragraph Schoenberg marked, Bergson writes:

That. however, is what philosophers undertake to do when they

seek to recompose the person with psychological states. whether
they confme themselves to these states or whether they add a thread
for the purpose of tying the states to one another. Empiricists and
rationalists alike are in this case dupes of the same illusion. Both
take the partial notions for real parts, thus confusing the point of
view of analysis and that of intuition, science and metaphysics. 19
This repudiates Mach's position which depends on psychical states and elements of
sensation. The idea that there are two distinctly separate kinds of knowledge -knowledge gained through analysis and knowledge gained through intuition reverberates in a diversity of formulations throughout Bergson's writings. Intuition
is a vaguely understood faculty. Perhaps earlier in the century people had
something a bit more definite in mind. But according to Robert Musil, this was not
the case:
Intuition is a question in itself. I propose that all German writers
refrain from using this word for two years. Things have reached a
point today where anyone who wants to claim something he cannot
prove and has not worked out invokes intuition. During this period
of abstinence perhaps someone could sort out the innumerable
meanings of the word.20
The intuition Bergson advocates is "the kind of sympathy by which one is
transported into the interior of an object in order to coincide with what there is
19Henri Bergson. "An Introduction to Metaphysics," The Creative Mind:
An Introduction to Metaphysics, trans. Mabelle L. Andison (New York:
Philosophical Library, 1946; reprint ed., New York: First Carol Publishing
Group, Citadel Press, 1992), p. 172.
20Robert Musil, "Mind and Experience" (1921), Precision and Soul
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990), p. 144.

450
unique and consequently inexpressible in it."2l Through an act of imagination one
becomes transported into the interior of a real object allowing its subjectivity to
become one's own. Intuition is also fundamental to Bergson's understanding of
real time which we experience in a continuous way -- legato time, if you will - as
opposed to the discontinuous metronomic ticking of clocks with which we measure
time for practical ends. And to paraphrase Bergson, intuition is a kind of
"knowledge" that may be said to attain the absolute. For clarity, a comparison on
six points shows the stringency of the separation between the methods of analysis
and intuition.
1) Analysis requires the isolation of an object from its surroundings or
context to mute the affect of any background noise on an observation or an
experiment. Intuition is holistic. concerned with an object in its totality and how it
changes through time.
2) A consequence of isolation is that the analysis of form determines the

boundaries and limitations of its object of study. Ernst Cassirer articulates

Bergson's viewpoint that: "Form is essentially limitation. whereas life is essentially
boundlessness. "22 The study of form then determines objects in space, and
instants in time.

2lBergson, "Introduction to Metaphysics," p. 161.

22Ernst Cassirer. The Philosophy of Symbolic Forms: The
Phenomenology of Knowledge, vol. 3, trans. Ralph Manheim (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1966), p. 37.

451
3) Within an analytic framework of isolating parts and detennining their

fonn. the job of analysis is to create a system of more or less general categories
which express a sense of order through a language of notated symbols. Intuition
does not accept the imposition of homogeneity upon the infinite heterogeneity of the
living world. The categories of empiricists are overwhelmed by the diversity of life
which is always in flux.
4) Analysis attains success in successful predictions. in other words. it
seeks lawfulness. Intuition grasps the emergent. Bergson writes of two senses of
order in this respect in his Creative Evolution:
We say of astronomical phenomena that they manifest an
admirable order. meaning by this that they can be foreseen
mathematically. And we find an order no less admirable in a
symphony of Beethoven. which is genius. originality. and therefore
unforeseeability itself.23
5) Scientists treat time spatially. For the scientist time is homogeneous and
divisible. In terms of Bergson's concept of duration. time is heterogeneous and
indivisible. This is time as we experience it. (Observe the digital time display
while a compact disc is playing. or try to take someone's pulse with a digital watch.
Digital counting seems artificial and alien to any real experience of real time.)
The view of scientific analysis inherent in the first five points can be taken

23Henri Bergson. Creative Evolution, trans. Arthur Mitchell (New York:

Random House. 1944). p. 245.

452
together as a picture of the imposition of the mindset of the laboratory upon the real
world. Mario Bunge criticizes Bergson for just this representation of scientific
analysis.24 To the charge that science is reductive Bunge replies:
No chemist seriously believes... that water is somehow contained in
hydrogen and oxygen separately, or that the properties of water are
merely apparent, only those of its constituents being real. And no
biologist denies the emergence of new traits in the course of
evolution; on the contrary, his problem is to give a lawful account of
a wealth of variety and change.25
To the charge that science cannot model processes of change Bunge replies:
The ground of [Bergson's] beHeL.seems to be that conceptual
thinking cannot apprehend becoming, because concepts are static
and are isolated among one another. This argument .. .ignores the
fact that science creates not only concepts of invariable classes, but
also variables capable of describing changing aspects of experience.
The argument also ignores the fact that every proposition relates
concepts, so that the latter are never piled up as isolated bricks.26
Bunge rejects Bergson's argument that analysis cannot represent processes of
change. but Bergson's ultimate claim for intuition receives a critique of another
kind.
6) Since analysis must be done from observation outside the object, many

perspectives must be considered; the knowledge gained through analysis is specific

to a definite perspective. Analysis renders its findings in the fashion of a slide
show -- often with the ennui that such presentations entail -- representing many

24Mario Bunge, Intuition and Science (Englewood-Cliffs: Prentice-Hall,

1962), pp. 3-20.
25Ibid.
26Ibid.

453
views but never the whole. Bergson ascribes to knowledge gained through
intuition an absolute status. This reasoning constitutes the basis for the
Introduction to Metaphysics:
Take, for example, the movement of an object in space. I
perceive it differently according to the point of view from which I
look at it, whether from that of mobility or of immobility. I express
it differently, furthermore as I relate it to the system of axes or
reference points, that is to say, according to the symbols by which I
translate it. And I call it relative for this double reason: in either
case, I place myself outside the object itself. When I speak of an
absolute movement, it means that I attribute to the mobile an inner
being and, as it were, states of soul; it also means that I am in
hannony with these states and enter into them by an effort of
imagination. Therefore, according to whether the object is mobile or
immobile, whether it adopts one movement or another, I shall not
have the same feeling about it. And what I feel will depend neither
on the point of view I adopt toward the object, since I am in the
object itself, nor on the symbols by which I translate it, since I have
renounced all translation in order to possess the original. In short,
the movement will not be grasped from without and, as it were,
from where I am, but from within, inside it, in what it is in itself. I
shall have hold of an absolute)7
The claim of absolute knowledge has drawn many responses. Martin
Buber's 1943 essay "Bergson's Concept of Intuition" criticizes Bergson's analogy
between the intuition of an artist for his subject and that of a philosopher for life in
general. The crux of the analogy is that the artist through direct perception can
present a vision of nature that goes unobserved in everyday life. Likewise a
philosopher ought to perceive directly and present a vision of life that is absolute
and beyond the contentions of competing philosophical systems. Buber argues that
the analogy is unfounded:

27Henri Bergson, An Introduction to Metaphysics, pp. 159-60.

454
This claim is so alien, indeed so repugnant. to the nature of art
and its distinctive intuition that the comparison forfeits the very core
of its validity. Certainly each great painter is a discoverer. But he is
just the discoverer of an 'aspect'; that is, of a view of the world in
which a certain manner of seeing manifests itself that is peculiar to
him. this painter...The painter lives in the immeasurable multiplicity
and diversity of these aspects. to none of which. nor to all of them
taken together, can the character of an absolute perception be
ascribed. The situation is not essentially different with regard to
philosophy.28
Don Roberts after considering the efficacy of the label "knowledge" to what
is gained through the intuitive way of "knowing" concludes:
For some reason or other, Bergson wants more from the first
way of knowing [i.e. analysis] than it can provide, more than it
purports to provide. He imagines that the first way of knowing has
an 'eternally unsatisfied desire' to embrace its object, but it is
Bergson who has the desire. I think it was in order to satisfy this
desire that Bergson postulates the existence of his second way of
knowing; and he apparently let himself believe that the existence of
his desire is good evidence for the existence of the faculty necessary
to satisfy that desire. 29
Roberts claims that Bergson posits a faculty of intuition out of a desire for its
existence. Bergson would disagree bitterly with this, since his awareness of
intuition arises from the intellectual activities of his everyday life. However it is
Bergson's claim for absolute knowledge that stands at the center Roberts' critique.
(The unsatisfied desire of Bergson's calls to my mind the unsatisfied desire for
assimilation in certain Jewish circles. i.e. the desire not to be an outsider or

28Martin Buber, Pointing the Way, ed. and trans. Maurice Friedman (New
York: Harper and Bros., 1957), p. 84.
29Don D. Roberts, "The Labeling Problem." Pragmatism and Purpose:
Essays Presented To Thomas A. Goudge, eds. L. W. Sumner, John Slater, Fred
Wilson (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1981), p. 87.

455
AussUmder in Europe but to be at one with the national character. Walter
Rathenau's intuitionistic philosophy expresses this same desire. This was the
solution for those Jews who would not convert, but wanted to integrate within
society.)
R. G. Collingwood seizes on a nearly identical passage as Schoenberg for
his discussion of Bergson's evolutionism, one which considers mental or
psychological states. In Bergson's favor, Collingwood values the idea that these
mental states do not merely succeed one another like beads on a string, but that they
"interpenetrate" one another. Passing mental states persist in the present because
they are sustained in the present by memory. This interpenetration is likened to the
experience of hearing a melody. The succession of tones which compose the
melody are perceived successively, but not discretely. In this sense, hearing a
melody becomes a unified experience.
The way in which [melody] is organized is time, and this in fact
is just what time is: it is a manifold of parts which, unlike those of
space. interpenetrate one another, the present including the past.
This temporal organization is peculiar to consciousness, and is the
foundation of freedom: for, because the present contains the past in
itself the present is not determined by the past as something external
to it, a cause of which it is the effect: the present is a free and living
activity which embraces and sustains its own past by its own act)O
This statement of the "auditory model" holds just as well for larger scale levels of
organization than simply the succession of tones as melody. At a more
comprehensive level this idea applies to form. Schoenberg's Opus 23, No.1 is an

30R. G. Collingwood, The Idea of History (London: Oxford University

Press, 1956), p. 187.

456
ABA form. But the reprise of A is the total interpenetration of A (in which B is
latent) and B (in which A and B coexist but are not yet synthesized). Each of the
Schoenberg's Five Pieces illustrates Collingwood's view multifariously.
In another sense. Collingwood's statement can be taken as a primary
assumption for the interaction of phantasy and memory in developing variations.
The first six tones of the soprano of Opus 23. No. 1 represent a retrograde
asymmetry. Schoenberg stated his displeasure that the D# repeated the Eb so a
basic set is not formed. In lieu of serialism. we have developing variations. The

D# does not reiterate the Eb so much as it inflects the 0 natural to D# yielding a

misremembered, transposed, or mutant retrograde form with the immediate
consequence of one new interval and two new pitches. Breaking the symmetry
opens the floodgates for all kinds of distorted forms of the basic motive semitone.
Memory connects varied expressions of the motive as they occur throughout the
work, but does so without requiring literal repetitions.
Collingwood also rebuffs Bergson, whose succession of mental states
concerns itself with "immediate feelings and sensations" and not with successions
of rational thoughts which in Collingwood's view are the prime material of
historical reflection. Only the first way of knowing, analysis, produces
knowledge. even if the durational sense of inner consciousness must be sacrificed
for clock time which like space does not permit the interpenetration of objects. It is
false criticism on Collingwood's part to imply that the immediacy of sensation leads
to the discovery of real time. The "rediscovery of basic time" through melody
comes through "effacing" sound of its distinguishing features "retaining of it only

457
the continuation of what precedes into what follows ... "31 As Millc Capek
comments, ..... hardly any other passage shows more graphically how little
immediate the immediacy of Bergson's duration is and how much of an abstracting
effort is inherent in it. "32 Through this abstract hearing of melody comes an
understanding of "uninterrupted transition, multiplicity without divisibility and
succession without separation."33
Some points of contact occur between Schoenberg's and Bergson's thought
in the context of the chapters "Consonance and Dissonance" and "Rhythm and
Harmony" from the Harmonielehre. These chapters present a viewpoint with some
commonality to Bergson's. Doubtless one may recognize these premises as they
arose in the works of earlier philosophies. The point here is that they survived and
were redirected in Schoenberg's contemporary world. [n a nutshell, we can spell
out the common points in terms of the following premises:

1. That evolution would effect a development of the senses as well as

mental and psychological growth.

2. That there is an analogy between art and life in which life, like phantasy,
is boundless, and form like art is bounded.

31Henri Bergson, Duration and Simultaneity, trans. Leon Jacobson (New

York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1965), pp. 44-45.
32Milic Capek, Bergson and Modem Physics: A Reinterpretation and ReEvaluation (Dordrecht, Holland: D. Reidel Publishing Co., 1971), p. 118.
33Bergson, Duration and Simultaneity, pp. 44-45.

458
3. That action is guided by historical consciousness.

4. That the senses ascribe an inner and outer dimension to all things in
nature and that the inner is the subject of immediate perception.
5. That the notion of a faculty of intuition called Empfindungswelt by
Schoenberg takes in the totality beyond the analytical capacity of formalisms.
6. That analysis attains success in successful predictions. In other words it
seeks lawfulness. Intuition grasps the emergent. Analysis is overridingly
concerned with form. Intuition is concerned overridingly with the changing, the
manifold and the unbounded. Analysis situates the dimensions of its object in
space. Intuition situates its object in time.
Abstraction and Immediacy. In pondering an answer to our earlier
question, what is an appropriate concept of sound for Schoenberg's piano music.
we can formulate it in this way: The piano sound is an abstraction of the
heterogeneity of tone achieved in Schoenberg's ensemble music, so it is justifiable
to emulate the effects of Schoenberg's scoring or imagine in listening those effects
to the tone:
If one is to be receptive to a work of art, and gain an impression
of it, one's own imagination must playa creative part. (I recently
found this long-standing idea of mine in letters of Oscar Wilde
printed in Der Fackel.) A work of art bestows only the warmth one
is able to dispense on one's own account, and almost every artistic
impression is, ultimately, a product of the listener's imagination. It
is indeed released by the work of art, but only if one has available
receiving apparatus tuned in the same way as the transmitting
apparatus)4

34Schoenberg, "About Music Criticism" (1909), Style and Idea, pp. 194-5.

459
On the other hand. by effacing the coloristics of the tone. a basic sense of time
emerges through which we sense the immediacy of pure change or becoming.
Complex Tone. Abstract Organization - Gould and Pollini. The recordings
by Gould and Pollini of Op. 23 could not be more different; each tends toward the
dialectical extremes of pure sound and pure form respectively.35 There is a
reverberant background to Gould's performance. Hence Gould's tempi are slower.
his sound is more massive and complex. and the performance takes five minutes
longer than Pollini's. Yet there is such an involvement with sound that often the
transformations of the motive are barely palpable. Gould projects an unendurably
drawn out time frame interrupted occasionally by catastrophic disturbances.3 6
Pollini's approach is the antithesis. His click-track-ish manner and minimal
involvement with tone and textural differentiation give the impression that the music
occurs instant by instant. Both performances in different ways reject Schoenberg's
expressive markings which struggle to cultivate the possibilities of both a
heterogenous tone and an abstractly conceived pitch organization. Both also fail to
engage the listener's memory in the presentation of varied forms. And both thereby
fail to integrate the traditional and innovative aspects of the music.
Traditional Pathways. In the tradition of Brahms. a dolce passage occurs in
nearly every piano piece regardless of its character. Recalling the three contrasting
35Glenn GOUld. The Glenn Gould Legacy. Vol. 14 (CBS M3K 42150);
Maurizio Pollini. Schoenberg: The Piano Music (00 423249-2).
36In Opus 23, No.3, Gould takes a tempo slow enough to keep
Schoenberg's shortest note value, the 128th note, consistent with the opening
eighth-note pulse. Gould's literalism violates the flexibility of the rhythm.

460
Intermezzi Op. 116, Nos. 4,5 and 6 of Brahms's Fantasien, we are reminded of
the sensation and experience dolce passages create. Each of these pieces has a
dolce marked at the beginning applied to very different musical textures and
expressions. While dolce literally implies sweetness, consonance and stability,
Brahms adds harmonic richness, heightened resolution, as well as moments of
instability and dissonance. Schoenberg picks up on all of Brahms added nuances,
and turns dolce into an indication by which stability, harmonic or rhythmic cannot

be taken for granted. Dolce passages are intriguing; it is not so very obvious what
it means to play Schoenberg "more dolce," but of course one should since that is
what Schoenberg wrote -- Opus 33b is almost continuously dolce.
Schoenberg's first dolce indication in the piano music occurs in the final
measure of Op. 23, No.2. Like the closing passage of Brahms's Op. 76, No. I, it
marks a niche for a final version of the theme that occurs in the wake of a principal
resolution of the composition, namely, the order reversal of the Bb-Db.
Dolce passages are moments that involve enriched tone and an altered sense
of duration through some delay or expansion of time. The listener is invited to
relish a uniquely musical kind of sensation that eludes pitch-class analysis. That the
experience of such a sensation could be achieved outside the tonal context indicates
a continuity with a tradition of piano music.
Non-Traditional Pathways. What kind of interpretive problems arise when
inversionaI forms are primary? Inversions tend to address their related fonns
thereby influencing phrasing. One has barely played the first measures of Op. 23,
No. I when one is confronted with what to make musically of an inversionaI form.

461
In Ope 23, No.1 (m. 3) the four sixteenths <A, C, B, G#> are a retrograde
inversion of the first four pitches of the soprano voice <F#. Eb, D, F>. Pollini
treats the four sixteenths (m. 3) as the anacrusis to the next phrase (m. 4). These
four sixteenth notes round off the first phrase rather than push ahead. The effect of
Pollini's reading is that the four thirty-second notes (m. 4) which are forward
moving sound like a rhythmic diminution of the sixteenth notes. In my view. the
thirty-second notes vary the <0#, E, G>. the last three pitches of the soprano (mm.
2-3). The four sixteenths (m. 3) are addressed back to the figure from which they
originate (m. 1). and not ahead to m.4. The crescendo in the published score
which straddles the bar line between measures 3 and 4, does not occur in
Schoenberg's handwritten score.3 7 There are no slurs between measures 3 and 4
that imply the kind of connection Pollini makes. The melodic beginning of the
soprano voice (m. I) is countered by the phrase ending (m. 3). Likewise. on a
longer time scale. the forward moving ostinato of the B section (m. 13) is
counteracted by its inversional form (m. 33) which strongly signals closure. Basic
and inverted forms often turn up in some kind of opposition to one another; the
interpreter should be cognizant of such occurrences.
Developing Variation. The thin line drawn by Schoenberg in his copy of
Bergson's Introduction to Metaphysics is thin and tenuous indeed if we infer by it
that all questions about Schoenberg may be answered in Bergson. This is surely
not the case. Rather it is a world of thought that we bring to Schoenberg's writings

370pUS 23, No. I. handwritten MS. Archives of the Arnold Schoenberg

Institute.

462
in order to highlight the parallelism between Schoenberg's discussion of the ear and
Empfindungswelt and Bergson's discussion of analysis and intuition. We also
bring this world of thought to the music. It is the thought of Bergson,
Collingwood and others who see in the phenomenon of tone a metaphor for the
multi-Iayeredness of the mind (Bergson in Matter and Memory writes of 'tones of
the mind'), and in melody a metaphor for consciousness.38 It is in the cohering
power of memory and the transforming power of phantasy, which both bear on the
totality of musical sound and structure, that the essential tension in the experience of
Schoenberg's music may be explored.

38Isabelle Peretz and Jose Morais, "Music and Modularity," Contemporary

Music Review 4 (1989): 279-93. "Since music data are systematic, relatively clear
and accessible, it is theoretically and methodolgically advantageous to study music
as a way to study the mind. In other words, music may serve as a model of the
human mind." (Emphasis added.)

463

Selected Bibliography
A. Schoenberg: Published Writings
The Musical Idea and the Logic. Technique and Art of Its Presentation. Edited by
Patricia Carpenter and Severine Neff. New York: Columbia University
Press, 1995.
Der biblische Weg. Translated by Moshe Lazar. Journal of the Arnold Schoenberg
Institute 17 (1994): 162-329.
Zusarnmenhang. Kontrapunkt. Instrumentation. Formenlerhre [Coherence.
Counterpoint. Instrumentation. Instruction in Form]. Edited by Severine
Neff. Translated by Charlotte Cross and Severine Neff. Lincoln:
University of Nebraska Press, 1994.
Sril und Gedanke: Gesarnmelte Schriften von Arnold Schonberg. Edited by Ivan
VOjtech. Frankfurt am Main: S. Fischer, 1976.
Style and Idea Edited by Leonard Stein. Translated by Leo Black. Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1984.
Theory of Harmony. Translated by Roy E. Carter. Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1983.
Harmonielehre. Rev. edt Vienna: Universal, 1922.

464
Harmonielehre. Vienna: Universal. 1911.
Texte. Vienna: Universal Edition. 1926.
Structural Functions of Harmony. Edited by Leonard Stein. New York: W. W.
Norton. 1954; rev. ed. 1969.
Preliminary Exercises in Counterpoint. Edited by Leonard Stein. London: Faber
and Faber, 1962: reprint ed., 1982.
Fundamentals of Musical Composition. Edited by Gerald Strang and Leonard
Stein. London: Faber and Faber, 1967; reprint ed . 1985.
Models for Beginners in Composition. Edited by Leonard Stein. Rev. ed. Los
Angeles: Belmont, 1972.

B. Schoenberg: Additional Published Essays and Lectures

"Analysis of the Four Orchestral Songs, Op. 22" (21 February (932). Translated
by Claudio Spies. Perspectives on Schoenberg and Stravinsky. New
York: W. W. Norton, 1972.
"Lecture to Be Delivered in Frankfurt am Main, 12 February 1933" [Schoenberg's
Brahms Lecture]. Journal of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute 15 (1992):
23-87.
"Jeder junge Jude" (February 1934). Journal of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute 17
(1994): 451-5.
"Notes on the Four String Quartets" (1936). Reprinted in Schoenberg. Berg.
Webern: The String Ouartets. A Documentary Study. Edited by Ursula
von Rauchhaupt. Hamburg: Polydor Internation GmbH, 1987.

465
"A Four-Point Program for Jewry" (1938). Appendix C in Arnold Schoenberg:
The Composer as Jew by Alexander Ringer. Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1990.
Simms. Bryan R. "New Documents in the Schoenberg-Schenker Polemic."
Perspectives of New Music 16 (1977): 110-24.

C. Schoenberg: Unpublished Manuscripts from the Arnold Schoenberg Institute

Archives
"Fundament" (25 March 1923).
"Tut nicht Schenker hier... " (6 June 1923). On Schenker's Kontrapunkt.
"Gerade den Fehler den er anderen vorwerfen Konnte ... " (7 June 1923). On
Schenker's Konrrapunkt.
"Zur Frage der Metrik (Auftaktigkeit: Riemann)" (10 August 1923).
"Zur Metrik" (II August 1923).
"Geschichts parallelen" (5 September 1923).
"Entwicklung" (24 December 1931).
"Entwicklung der Harmonie" (7 August 1932).
"Moral ist Schwache -- Spengler" (IO October 1932).
"It is astonishing ... " (27 November 1933).

466
"A Question of Priority" (Summer 194O).
"The Art of the Caricaturist" (4 August 1941).
"It Can Be Said ... " n.d.

D. Schoenberg: Published Correspondence

Arnold Schoenberg Letters. Edited by Erwin Stein. Translated by Eithne Wilkins
and Ernst Kaiser. London: Faber and Faber. 1964; Los Angeles:
University of California Press paperback. 1987.
Arnold Schoenberg - Wassily Kandinsky: Letters, Pictures and Documents.
Edited by Jelena Hahl-Koch. Translated by John C. Crawford. London:
Faber & Faber, 1984.
The Berg-Schoenberg Correspondence. Edited by Julianne Brand. Christopher
Hailey. Donald Harris. New York: W. W. Norton. 1987.
Der Briefwechsel zwischen Arnold Schonberg und Ferruccio Busoni: 1903-1919
(1927): Edition, Kommentierung und Untersuchung unter besonderer
Beriicksichtigung der im Busoni-Nachlass der Deutschen Staatsbibliothek
Berlin Busoni-Nachlass der Deutschen Staatsbibliothek Berlin enthaltenen
Quellen. Edited by Jutta Theurich. Berlin: 1979.
Arnold Schoenberg Self-Portrait. Edited by Nuria Schoenberg Nono. Pacific
Palisades. California: Belmont Music Publishers. 1988.
Arnold Schoenberg Correspondence: A Collection of Translated and Annotated
Letters Exchanged With Guido Adler, Pablo Casais. Emanuel Feuermann
and Olin Downes. Edited and translated by Egbert Ennulat. Foreword by
Richard Hoffmann. Metuchen, NJ: The Scarecrow Press, 1991.

467
E. Unpublished Correspondence, Schoenberg Archives, Library of Congress.
Jacob Klatzkin to Schoenberg, 3 May 1946.
Schoenberg to M. Aram, l5 November 1947.
_ _ _ to Paul Bekker, September 1949.
_ _ _ to Columbia Telex, 19 December 1936.
_ _ _ to Heinrich Jalowetz, 5 June 1947.
_ _ _ to Jacob Klatzkin, 2l Aprill946.
_ _ _ to Kurt List, January 1949.
_ _ _ to Dmitri Mitropoulos, October 30, 1945.
_ _ _ to Rabbi Joseph S. Shubow of Boston, 23 December 1933.
_ _ _ to Bruno Walter, 23 December 1943.
Bruno Walter to Schoenberg, 18 December 1943.
_ _ _ to Schoenberg, 2 January 1944.

F. Antecedent and Contemporaneous Writings

Adorno, Theodor Wiesengrund. Prisms. Translated by Samuel and Shierry
Weber. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1986.

468
Adorno, Theodor Wiesengrund. Philosophy of New Music. Translated by Anne
Mitchell and Wesley Blomster. New York: The Seabury Press, 1973.
Armitage, Merle, ed.

Schoenber~.

Westport: Greenwood Press, 1937.

Balzac, Honore de. Seraphita and Other Tales. Translated by Clara Bell.
Introduction by David Blow. New York: Hippocrene Books, 1989.
Bergson, Henri. Creative Evolution. Translated by Arthur Mitchell. New York:
RandomHouse, 1944.
____. Einfiihrung in die Metaphysik (Jena: E. Diedrichs, 1912). The Arnold
Schoenberg Institute Archives.
Boulez. Pierre. "Schoenberg Is Dead." The Score 6 (May 1952): 19.
Buber, Martin. Pointing the Way. Edited and translated by Maurice Friedman.
New York: Harper and Row, 1957.
Canetti, Elias. The Play of the Eyes. Translated by Ralph Manheim. New York:
Farrar Straus Giroux, 1986.
Cohen, Hermann. Religion Of Reason Out Of The Sources of Judaism. Translated
by Simon Kaplan. New York: Fredrick Ungar, 1972.
Croce, Benedetto. Aesthetic: As Science of Expression and General Lin~uistic.
Translated by Douglas Ainslee. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux,
1970.
_ _ _'. History: Its Theory and Practice. Translated by Douglas Ainslee.
New York: Russell and Russell, 1960.
Emerson. Ralph Waldo. "Swedenborg; or, the Mystic." In Representative Men:
Seven Lectures. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin, Co., 1876.

469
Glatzer. Nahum N. Franz Rosenzwei&: His Life and Thou&ht. 2nd rev. ed. New
York: Schocken Books. 1961.
Goethe. Iohann Wolfgang von. Goethe's Botanical Writin&s. Translated by
Bertha Mueller. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. 1952.
Graetz. Heinrich. Volkstiimliche Geschichte der Iuden. 2 vols. Vienna: R. Lowit
Verlag. 1888. The Arnold Schoenberg Institute Archives.
Hegel. Georg Wilhelm Friedrich. Aesthetics: Lectures on Fine Art. 2 vols.
Translated by T. M. Knox. Oxford: Clarendon Press. 1975; reprint ed.
Clarendon Press. 1991.
_ _ _. Philosophy of Ri&ht. Translated by T. M. Knox. Oxford: Oxford
University Press. 1967.
Helmholtz. Hermann L. F. On The Sensations of Tone As A PhysioloIDcai Basis
for the Theory of Music. Translated by Alexander I. Ellis. New York:
Dover Publications. Inc . 1954.
Humboldt. Wilhelm von. "Ober die Aufgabe des Geschichtschreibers."
Abhandlun&en der Historisch-Philosophischen Klasse der Koni&lichen
Preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften aus den J ahren 1820-21.
Berlin. 1822. Translated as "On the Historian's Task." History and Theory
6 (1967): 57-71.
Jacobsen. Jens Peter. Mo&en and Other Stories. Translated by Tiina Nunnally.
Seattle: Fjord Press. 1994.
Kafka. Franz. The Great Wall of China. Translated by Willa and Edwin Muir.
New York: Schocken Books. 1970.
Kandinsky. Wassily. Concerning the Spiritual in Art. Translated by M. T. H.
Sadler. New York: Dover Publications Inc . 1977.

470
Kandinsky. Wassily and Marc. Franz. eds. The Blaue Reiter Almanac.
Introduction by Klaus Lankheit. New York: Viking Press. 1974; reprint
ed . New York: Da Capo Press. 1989.
Kraus. Karl. In These Great Times: A Karl Kraus Reader. Edited by Harry Zohn.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 1990.
Mach. Ernst. The Analysis of Sensations. Translated by C. M. Williams. New
York: Dover Publishing, 1959.
_ _-:-:::-. "On The Part Played By Accident In Invention and Discovery." The
Monist 6 (1896): 161-75.
Mann, Thomas. Doktor Faustus. Translated by H. T. Lowe-Porter. New York:
Alfred A. Knopf, 1963.
Victor Miesel, ed. Voices of Expressionism. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall.
1970.
Musil, Robert. The Man Without Qualities. 2 vols. Edited by Burton Pike.
Translated by Sophie Wilkins. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. 1995.
_ _ _ . Precision and Soul. Edited and translated by Burton Pike and David
Luft. University of Chicago Press, 1990.
_ _ _. Tagebiicher. 2 vols. Edited by Adolf Frise. Reinbek bei Hamburg:
Rowohlt, 1976.
Nietzsche, Friedrich W. The Use and Abuse of History. Translated by Adrian
Collins. New York: The Bobbs-Merrill Co . Inc., 1957.
Popper, Karl R. Unended Quest. Open Court Press. 1974.

47L
Rathenau. Walter. Probleme der Friedenswirtschaft. Berlin: S. Fischer, L9 L7.
Riemann, Hugo and Fuchs, Karl. Practical Guide to the Art of Phrasing. New
York: G. Schirmer, L890.
Rilke, Rainer Maria. Das Buch der Bilder. 3rd expanded edition. Berlin: Arel
Juncker Verlag. Archives of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute.
Rosenzweig, Franz. The Star of Redemption. Translated by William W. Hallo.
New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, L97 L.
Schenker. Heinrich. Kontrapunkt. 2 vols. Berlin: J. G. Cotta'sche
Buchhandlung Nachfolger, 19LO.
Schenker. Heinrich, ed. Die Letzten FUnf Sonaten von Beethoven: Kritische
Ausgabe mit Einfiihrung und ErHiuterung von Heinrich Schenker. Wien:
Universal Edition Aktiensgesellshaft, L9 L6.
Schnabel. Artur. My Life and Music. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1961.
Schnitzler. Arthur. The Road Into The Open. Translated by Roger Byers.
Introduction by Russell Berman. Los Angeles: University of California
Press, 1992.
Spengler, Oswald. Der Untergang des Abendlandes. 2 vols. MUnchen: Oskar
Beck, 1923. Translated by H. Stuart Hughes as The Decline of the West.
Introduction by H. Stuart Hughes. Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1991.
Thompson, 0' Arcy Wentworth. On Growth and Form. Foreword by Stephen Jay
Gould. Edited by John Tyler Bonner. Abridged edition. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1961; reprint ed., Cambridge: Canto, 1992.
Veblen, Thorstein. "The Intellectual Pre-Eminence of Jews in Modem Europe."
Political Science Ouarterly 34 (L 919): 33-42.

472
Webern, Anton. Path to New Music. Edited by Willi Reich. Translated by Leo
Black. Vienna: Universal Edition, 1975.
,
Wolf. Immanuel. "Uber den Begriff einer Wissenschaft des Jundentums."
Zeitschrift fUr die Wissenschaft des Judentums 1 (1822): Iff. "On the
Concept of a Science of Judaism." Translated by Lionel Kochan. Leo
Baeck Institute Year Book 2 (1957), pp. 194-204.
Zweig, Stefan. The World of Yesterday: An Autobiography. New York: The
Viking Press. 1945.

G. Historical Studies of Schoenberg

Auner, Joseph. "Schoenberg's Aesthetic Transfonnations and the Evolution of
Fonn in Die ~1tickliche Hand," Journal of the Arnold Schoenber~ Institute
12 (1989): L03-28.
Bailey, Walter B. Pro~rammatic Elements in the Works of Schoenberg. Ann
Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1984.
Bauer. Glen Alan. "A Contextual Approach to Schoenberg's Atonal works: SelfExpression. Religion. and Music Theory." Ph.D. dissertation.
Washington University, 1986.
Benson. Mark F. "Arnold Schoenberg and the Crisis of Modernism." Ph.D.
dissertation. University of California at Los Angeles, 1988.
Brinkmann, Reinhold. Arnold Schonberg: Drei KIaviersrucke Opus II. Beihefte
zum Archiv fUr Musikwissenschaft VIT. Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag
GmbH, 1969.
Cherlin, Michael. Review of Walter Frisch, The Early Works of Arnold
Schoenber~: 1893-1908. Nineteenth-Century Music 18 (1994): 174-85.

473
Cherlin. MichaeL "Schoenberg's Representation of the Divine in Moses und
Aron." Journal of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute 9 (1986): 2LO-16.
Christensen, Jean. "The Spiritual and the Material in Schoenberg's Thinking."
Music and Letters 65 (1984): 337-44.
Cone, Edward T. "Editorial Responsibility and Schoenberg's Troublesome
'Misprints.'" Perspectives of New Music 11 (1972): 65-72.
Cross, Charlotte. "Schoenberg's Weltanschauung and His Views of Music."
Ph.D. dissertation. Columbia University. 1992.
Davidowicz, Lucy. "Arnold Schoenberg: A Search for Jewish Identity." The
Jewish Presence (New York: 1977). pp. 44-45.
Frisch, Walter. The Early Works of Arnold Schoenberg: 1893-1908. Berkeley:
University of California Press. 1993.
Goldstein, Bluma. Reinscribing Moses: Heine. Kafka, Freud, and Schoenberg in
a European Wilderness. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992.
Gradenwitz, Peter. "The Religious Works of Arnold Schoenberg." Music Review
21 No. I (1960): 19-29.
____,. "Gustav Mahler and Arnold Schoenberg." Leo Baeck Institutes
Yearbook 5 (1960): 262-284.
Lazar, Moshe. "Schoenberg and His Deubles: A Psychodramatic Journey to His
Roots." Journal of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute 17 (1994): 9-150.
Lessem. Alan Philip. Music and Text in the Works of Arnold Schoenberg: The
Critical Years, 1908-1922. Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1979.

474
Lindenberger, Herbert. "Arnold Schoenberg's Der Biblische Weg and Moses und
Aron: On the Transactions of Aesthetics and Politics." Modern Judaism 9
(1989): 55-70.
Mackeimann, Michael. Arnold Schoenberg und das Judentum. (Hamburger
Beitrage zur Musikwissenschaft, 28; Hamburg, 1984).
Maegaard, Jan. Studien zur Entwicldung des Satzes bei Arnold Schoenberg.
Copenhagen: Wilhelm Hansen, 1972.
____. "A Study in Chronology of Opp. 23-26." Dansk aarbog for music
forskning (1962): 93-115.
Reich, Willi. Schoenberg: A Critical Biography. Translated by Leo Black. New
York: Praeger, 1971; reprint ed., New York: Da Capo Press, 1981.
Ringer, Alexander. Arnold Schoenberg: The Composer As Jew. Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1990.
Rose, Alison. "A Viennese Interpretation of Moses: Arnold Schoenberg's Jewish
Identity." Judaism 39 No.3 (July 1990): 286-304.
Rosen, Charles. Arnold Schoenberg. New York: The Viking Press. 1975.
Rufer, Joseph. Works of Arnold Schoenberg: A Catalogue of His Compositions.
Translated by Dika Newlin. London: Faber and Faber, 1962.
Schiff, David. "Jewish and Musical Tradition in the Music of Mahler and
Schoenberg." Journal of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute 9 No.2 (1986):
217-231.
Schmidt. Christian Martin. Schoenbergs Oper Moses und Aron. Mainz. 1988.

475
Schmidt. Christian Martin. "Schoenbergs Kantate Ein Uberlebender aus
Warschau, Op. 46." Archiv fUr Musikwissenschaft 33 no. 3 (l976): 17488; 33 no. 4 (1976): 261-77.
Schwarzschild. Steven S. "Adorno and Schoenberg as Jews - Between Kant and
Hegel." Year Book of the Leo Baeck Institute 35 (1990): 443-78.
____. "The Legal Foundation of Jewish Aesthetics." Journal of Aesthetic
Education IX No. I (January 1975): 29-42.
Stein, Leonard. "Schoenberg's Jewish Identity (A Chronology of Source
Material)." Journal of the Arnold Schoenberg Institute 1 (1979): 3-10.
Stuckenschmidt. H.H. Arnold Schoenberg: His Life, World and Work.
Translated by Humphrey Searle. London: John Calder. 1977.
Tarsi. Boaz. "The Message of Moses and Aaron as a Reflection of Arnold
Schoenberg's Spiritual Quest." Musica Judaica 12 (5754/1991-2): 52-64.
White, Pamela C. Schoenberg and the God Idea: The Opera Moses und Aron.
Ann Arbor: UM. 1985.
Womer. Karl H. Schoenberg's Moses und Aron. Translated by Paul Hamburger.
London: Faber and Faber, 1963.

H. General Studies: History, Culture, Religion. Aesthetics and Biography

Arendt. Hannah. "The Jew As Pariah: A Hidden Tradition." Jewish Social Studies
6 (1944): 99-122.
Bangerter. Lowell. Robert Musil. New York: The Continuum Publishing Co .
1988.

476
Behnnan. S. N. People in a Diary: A Memoir. Boston: Little. Brown. 1972.
BeUer. Steven. Vienna and the Jews 1867-1938: A Cultural Hist0O'. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press. 1989.
_ _~'. "Otto Weininger As Liberal?" [n Jews and Gender: Responses to Otto
Weininger. pp. 91-101. Edited by Barbara Hyams and Nancy Harrowitz.
Philadelphia: Temple University Press. 1995.
Bodine. Jay F. "Karl Kraus's Conception of Language." Modern Austrian
Literature 8 (1975): 268-309.
Brandell. Gunnar. Strindberg in Inferno. Translated by Barry Jacobs.
Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 1974.
Bronsen. David. ed. Jews and Germans from 1860 to 1933: The Problematic
Symbiosis. Heidelberg: Carl Winter. Universitatsverlag. 1979.
Corino. Carl. Musil. Reinbek bei Hamburg: Rowohlt Verlag GmbH. 1988.
Dahlstrom. Carl. Strindberg's Dramatic Expressionism. New York: Benjamin
Blom. [nc., 1965.
Desmond, William. Art and the Absolute. New York: State University of New
York Press, 1986.
DiirnIing, Albrecht and Girth. Peter, eds. Entartete Musik: Dokumentation und
Kommentar zur Dusseldorfer Ausstellung von 1938. Dusseldorf: Der
kleine Verlag, 1993.
Elon, Amos. Herzl. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1975.
Farrenkopf, John. "The Transformation of Spengler's Philosophy of World
History." Journal of the History of[deas 52 (1991): 463-85.

477
Felix. David. "Walter Rathenau: The Bad Thinker and His Uses." European
Studies Review 5 (1975): 69-79.
Finlay. Marike. The Potential of Modem Discourse: Musil, Peirce and
Perturbation. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. 1990.
Friedenreich. Harriet Pass. Jewish Politics in Vienna 1918-1938. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press. 1991.
Gay. Peter. Freud. Jews and Other GenTIans: Masters and Victims in Modernist
Culture. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 1978.
Gilman. Sander. Jewish Self-Hatred: Anti-Semitism and the Hidden Language of
.
the Jews. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press. 1986.
Heller. Erich. The Disinherited Mind. New York: Barnes and Noble. 1971.
Hickman. Hannah. Robert Musil and the Culture of Vienna. LaSalle: Open Court.
1984.
Idel. Moshe. Kabbalah: New Perspectives. New Haven: Yale University Press.
1988.
Jay. Martin. Downcast Eyes: The Denigration of Vision in Twentieth-Century
French Thought. Berkeley: University of California Press. 1993.
Johnston. William. The Austrian Mind: An Intellectual and Social History 18481938. Los Angeles: University of California Press. 1972.
Katz. Jacob. The Darker Side of Genius: Richard Wagner's Anti-Semitism. The
Tauber Institute for the Study of European Jewry Series, no. 5. London:
Brandeis University Press. 1986.

478
Katz. Jacob. Jewish Emancipation and Self-Emancipation. New York: Jewish
Publication Society. 1986.
Kaufmann. Walter. Nietzsche: Philosopher. Psychologist. Antichrist. 4th ed.
Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1974.
Kochan, Lionel. Jews. Idols and Messiahs: The Challenge from History. Oxford:
Basil Blackwell, Inc. 1990.
Kolakowski. Leszek. Bergson. Oxford: Oxford University Press. 1985.
Leibowitz. Yeshayahu. Judaism. Human Values. and the Jewish State. Edited and
translated by Eliezer Goldman. Cambridge: Harvard University Press,
1992.
Lindenberger. Herbert. "Experiencing History." Scandanavian Studies 62 (1990):
7-23.
Luft. David. Robert Musil and the Crisis of European Culture 1880-1942. Los
Angeles: University of California Press, 1980.
Magee. Bryan. The Philosophy ofSchopenhauer. New York: Oxford University
Press. 1983.
Mann. Golo. The History of Germany Since 1789. Translated by Marian Jackson.
Rev. ed. New York: Praeger, 1968.
McGrath. William J. Dionysian Art and Populist Politics in Austria. New Haven:
Yale University Press, 1974.
Mendes-Flohr, Paul. "The Study of the Jewish Intellectual: Some Methodological
Proposals." In Essays in Modern Jewish History: A Tribute to Ben
Halpern, pp. 142-72. Edited by Frances Malino and Phyllis Cohen Albert.
London: Associated University Presses, 1982.

479
Oxaal, Ivar, ed. Jews, Antisemitism and Culture in Vienna. London: Routledge
and Kegan Paul, 1987.
Reinharz, Jehuda, ed. Living With Antisemitism: Modern Jewish Responses. The
Tauber Institute for the Study of European Jewry Series, no. 6. London:
Brandeis University Press, 1987.
_ _ _ and Schatzberg, Walter, eds. The Jewish Repsonse to German Culture:
From the Enlightenment to the Second World War. London: Clark
University Press, 1985.
Rice, Emanuel. Freud and Moses: The Long Journey Home. Albany: State
University of New York Press, 1990.
Rose, Paul Lawrence. Wagner: Race and Revolution. New Haven: Yale
Uni versity Press, 1992.
Rotenstreich, Nathan. Jews and German Philosophy: The Polemics of
Emancipation. New York: Schocken Books, 1984.
Rozenblit, Marsha L. The Jews of Vienna. 1867-1914: Assimilation and Identity.
Albany: State University of New York Press, 1983.
Said, Edward. Musical Elaborations. New York: Columbia University Press,
1991.
Schorsch, Ismar. From Text to Context: The Tum to History in Modern Judaism.
The Tauber Institute for the Study of European Jewry Series, no. 19.
London: Brandeis University Press, 1994.
Schorske, Carl E. Fin-De-Siecle Vienna: Politics and Culture. New York:
Vintage Books, 1981.
Soloveitchik, Joseph B. The Lonely Man of Faith. New York: Bantam Doubleday
Dell Publishing Group, Inc., 1992.

480
Soloveitchik. Joseph B. Halakhic Man. Translated by Lawrence Kaplan. New
York: Jewish Publication Society. 1983.
Sorkin. David. "Jews. the Enlightenment and Religious Toleration - Some
Reflections." Year Book of the Leo Baeck Institute 37 (1992). pp. 3-16.
____ ,. The Transformation of German Jewry 1780-1840. Oxford: Oxford
University Press. 1987.
"Wilhelm von Humboldt: The Theory and Practice of Self-Formation
(Bildung). 1791-1810. Journal of the History ofIdeas 44 (1983): 55-73.

_ _ _--c.

Timms. Edward. Karl Kraus: Apocalyptic Satirist. New Haven: Yale University
Press. 1986.
Toulmin. Stephen. Cosmopolis: The Hidden Agenda of Modernity. New York:
The Free Press. 1990.
Vergo. Peter. Art in Vienna 1898-1918. London: Phaidon.1975.
Wistrich. Robert. ed. Austrians and Jews in the Twentieth-Century: From Franz
Joseph to Waldheim. New York: St. Martin's Press. 1992.
Yerushalmi. Yosef Hayim. Freud's Moses. Yale University Press. 1991.

H. Theoretical and Analytical Studies

Babbitt. Milton. "Since Schoenberg." Perspectives of New Music 12 (1973): 328.

_ _ _. "Twelve-Tone Invariants as Compositional Determinants." Musical
Quarterly 46 (1960): 246-59.

481
Barkin, Elaine Radoff. "Pitch-Time Structure In Arnold Schoenberg's Opus 23,
No.1: A Contribution Toward A Theory of Nontonal Music." Ph.D.
dissertation. Brandeis University, 1971.
Cherlin, Michael. "The Formal and Dramatic Organization of Schoenberg's Moses
und Aron." Ph.D. dissertation. Yale University, 1983.
Cogan, Robert. "Reconceiving Theory: The Analysis of Tone Color."
Music Society 15 (1975): 53-69.
Dahlhaus, Carl. "Schoenberg and Schenker."
Association 100 (1973-74): 209-15.

Proceedin~s

Colle~e

of the Royal Musical

Dunsby, Jonathan M. "Schoenberg's Premonition, Op. 22, No.4, In Retrospect,"

Journal of the Arnold Schoenber~ Institute 1 (1978): 137-49.
____. "Schoenberg and the Writings of Schenker." Journal of the Arnold
Schoenberg Institute 2 (1977): 26-33.
Forte. Allen. The Structure of Atonal Music. New Haven: Yale University Press,
1973.
Friedmann, Michael. "Schoenberg's Waltz, Op. 23, No.5: Multiple Mappings in
Form and Row." Theory and Practice 18 (1993): 57-86.
Haimo, Ethan. Schoenberg's Serial Odyssey. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990.
Hyde, Martha. "Musical Form and the Development of Schoenberg's Twelve-Tone
Method," Journal of Music Theory 29 (1985): 85-143.
Lewin, David. Generalized Musical Intervals and Transformations. New Haven:
Yale University Press, 1987.

482
Lewin, David. "Transfonnational Techniques in Atonal and Other Music
Theories." Perspectives of New Music 21 (1983): 312-7l.
Mead, Andrew. "Large-Scale Strategy in Arnold Schoenberg's Twelve-Tone
Music," Perspectives of New Music 24 (1985): 120-57.
Morris, Robert D. Composition With Pitch-Classes. New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1987.
____. "Modes of Coherence and Continuity in Schoenberg's Piano Piece,
Op. 23, No. l." Theory and Practice 17 (1992): 5-34.
Penney, Diane Holloway. "Schoenberg's Janus-Work 'Erwartung': Its MusicoDramatic Structure and Relationship to the Melodrama and Lied Traditions."
Ph. D. dissertation. University of North Texas, 1989.
Straus. Joseph N. Remaking the Past: Musical Modernism and the Influence of
the Tonal Tradition. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 1990.
Stroh. Wolfgang Martin. Anton Webern: Historische Legitimation aIs
kompositorisches Problem. Goppingen: Verlag Alfred Kummerle, 1973.

J. Studies in Philosophy of History

Agassi, Joseph. "Towards an Historiography of Science." History and Theory
Beiheft 2 (1962): 1-79.
Ankersmit, Frank and Kellner, Hans, eds. A New Philosophy of History.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995.
Arendt, Hannah. Between Past and Future. New York: The Viking Press, 1954.

483
Bernstein, Richard J. Beyond Objectivism and Relativism. Philadelphia: The
University of Pennsylvania Press, 1955.
Calasso, Roberto. The Ruin of Kasch. Translated by William Weaver and Stephen
Sartarelli. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1994.
Cohen, 1. Bernard. Revolutions in Science. Cambridge: Belknap Press, 1985.
Cohen, H. Floris. The Scientific Revolution: A Historiographical InquiIy.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994.
Collingwood, R. G. The Idea of History. Oxford: Oxford University Press
paperback, 1956.
____,. The Principles of Art. Oxford: Clarendon Press. 1938: Oxford:
Oxford University Press paperback, 1958.
Dahlhaus, Carl. Foundations of Music History. Translated by J. B. Robinson.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983.
Dray. William. Perspectives on History. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul,
1980.
Furet,

Fran~ois.

In The Workshop of History. Translated by Jonathan

Mandelbaum. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984.

Gadamer, Hans-Georg. Truth and Method. New York: Crossroad, 1985.

Gardiner, Patrick, ed. Theories of History. New York: The Free Press, 1959.
Heelan, Patrick A. "The Logic of Framework Transpositions," International
Philosophical Ouarterly II (l971): 314-34.

484
Kellner, Hans. Language and Historical Representation: Getting the Story
Crooked. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1989.
Kemp, Anthony. The Estrangement of the Past: A Study in the Origins of Modem
Historical Consciousness. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991.
Koselleck. Reinhart. Futures Past: On the Semantics of Historical Time.
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Kuhn. Thomas. The Essential Tension: Selected Studies in Scientific Tradition
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Zahar, Elie. Einstein's Revolution: A Study in Heuristic. LaSalle: Open Court,
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K. Studies in Philosophy of Science, Cognition and Consciousness

Agassi. Joseph. Science in Flux. Boston: D. Reidel Publishing Company. 1975.

485
Bruner, Jerome. Actual Minds, Possible Worlds. Cambridge: Harvard University
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Bunge, Mario. Intuition and Science. Englewood-Cliffs, New Jersey: PrenticeHall, 1962.
Capek, Milie. Ber~son and Modem Physics: A Reinterpretation and ReEvaluation. Dordrecht: D. Reidel Publishing Co., 1971.
Cassirer, Ernst. The Philosophy of Symbolic Fonns, Volume 3: The
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Gruber, Howard E. "Cognitive Psychology, Scientific Creativity." In On
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L. Holocaust Documents and Studies

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Friedlander, Saul. Memory, History, and the Extermination of the Jews of Europe.
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