when minor. Thus I represents tonic major, iv represents
subdominant minor, and so on. A flat or a sharp after the figure
indicates that the normal degree of the standard scale has been
lowered or raised a semitone, even when in any particular pair
of keys it would not be expressed by a flat or a sharp. Thus
vi♭ would, from the tonic of B♭ major, express the position of the
slow movement of Beethoven’s Sonata, Op. 106, which is written
in F♯ minor since G♭ minor is beyond the practical limits of
notation.
| TABLES OF KEY-RELATIONSHIPS |
| A. From Major Tonic |
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| B. From Minor Tonic 3
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| 2 Very rare, but the slow movement of Schubert’s C major String Quintet demonstrates it magnificently.
3 All the indirect relationships from a minor tonic are distinctly strained and, except in the violently contrasted doubly indirect keys, obscure as being themselves minor. But the direct artificial modulation is quite smooth, and rich rather than remote. See Beethoven’s C♯ minor Quartet. 4 No classical example, though the clearer converse from a major tonic occurs effectively. 5 Not (with the exception of II) so violent as when from major tonic. Bach, whose range seldom exceeds direct key-relationships, is not afraid to drift from D minor to C minor, though nothing would induce him to go from D major to C major or minor. |
VI. Temperament and Enharmonic Changes.—As the facts of artistic harmony increased in complexity and range, the purely acoustic principles which (as Helmholtz has shown) go so far to explain 16th-century aesthetics became more and more inadequate; and grave practical obstacles to euphonious tuning began to assert themselves. The scientific (or natural) ratios of the diatonic scale were not interfered with by art so long as no discords were “fundamental”; but when discords began to assume independence, one and the same note often became assignable on scientific grounds to two slightly different positions in pitch, or at all events to a position incompatible with even tolerable effect in performance. Thus, the chord of the diminished 7th is said to be intolerably harsh in “just intonation,” that is to say, intonation based upon the exact ratios of a normal minor scale. In practical performance the diminished 7th contains three minor 3rds and two imperfect 5ths (such as that which is present in the dominant 7th), while the peculiarly dissonant interval from which the chord takes its name is very nearly the same as a major 6th. Now it can only be said that an intonation which makes nonsense of chords of which every classical composer from the time of Corelli has made excellent sense, is a very unjust intonation indeed; and to anybody who realizes the universal relation between art and nature it is obvious that the chord of the diminished 7th must owe its naturalness to its close approximation to the natural ratios of the minor scale, while it owes its artistic possibility to the extremely minute instinctive modification by which its dissonance becomes tolerable. As a matter of fact, although we have shown here and in the article Music how artificial is the origin and nature of all but the very scantiest materials of the musical language, there is no art in which the element of practical compromise is so minute and so hard for any but trained scientific observation to perceive. If a painter could have a scale of light and shade as nearly approaching nature as the practical intonation of music approaches the acoustic facts it really involves, a visit to a picture gallery would be a severe strain on the strongest eyes, as Ruskin constantly points out. Yet music is in this respect exactly on the same footing as other arts. It constitutes no exception to the universal law that artistic ideas must be realized, not in spite of, but by means of practical necessities. However independent the treatment of discords, they assert themselves in the long run as transient. They resolve into permanent points of repose of which the basis is natural; but the transient phenomena float through the harmonic world adapting themselves, as best they can, to their environment, showing as much dependence upon the stable scheme of “just intonation” as a crowd of metaphors and abstractions in language shows a dependence upon the rules of the syllogism. As much and no more, but that is no doubt a great deal. Yet the attempt to determine the point in modern harmony where just intonation should end and the tempered scale begin, is as vexatious as the attempt to define in etymology the point at which the literal meaning of a word gives places to a metaphorical meaning. And it is as unsound scientifically as the conviction of the typical circle-squarer that he is unravelling a mystery and measuring a quantity hitherto unknown. Just intonation is a reality in so far as it emphasizes the contrast between concord and discord; but when it forbids artistic interaction between harmony and melody it is a chimera. It is sometimes said that Bach, by the example of his forty-eight preludes and fugues in all the major and minor keys, first fixed the modern scale. This is true practically, but not aesthetically. By writing a series of movements in every key of which the keynote was present in the normal organ and harpsichord manuals of his and later times, he enforced the system by which all facts of modern musical harmony are represented on keyed instruments by dividing the octave into twelve equal semitones, instead of tuning a few much-used keys as accurately as possible and sacrificing the euphony of all the rest. This system of equal temperament, with twelve equal semitones in the octave, obviously annihilates important distinctions, and in the most used keys it sours the concords and blunts the discords more than unequal temperament; but it is never harsh; and where it does not express harmonic subtleties the ear instinctively supplies the interpretation; as the observing faculty, indeed, always does wherever the resources of art indicate more than they express.
Now it frequently happens that discords or artificial chords are not merely obscure in their intonation, whether ideally or practically, but as produced in practice they are capable of two sharply distinct interpretations. And it is possible for music to take advantage of this and to approach a chord in one significance and quit it with another. Where this happens in just intonation (in so far as that represents a real musical conception) such chords will, so to speak, quiver from one meaning into the other. And even in the tempered scale the ear will interpret the change of meaning as involving a minute difference of intonation. The chord of the diminished 7th has in this way four different meanings—
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and the chord of the augmented 6th, when accompanied by the fifth, may become a dominant 7th or vice versa, as in the passage already cited in the coda of the slow movement of Beethoven’s B♭ Trio, Op. 97. Such modulations are called enharmonic. We have seen that all the more complex musical phenomena involve distinctions enharmonic in the sense of intervals smaller than a semitone, as, for instance, whenever the progression D E in the scale of C, which is a minor tone, is identified with the progression of D E in the scale of D, which is a major tone (differing from the former as 89 from 910). But the special musical meaning of the word “enharmonic” is restricted to the difference between such pairs of sharps with flats or naturals as can be represented on a keyboard by the same note, this difference being the most impressive to the ear in “just intonation” and to the imagination in the tempered scale.
Not every progression of chords which is, so to speak, spelt enharmonically is an enharmonic modulation in itself. Thus a modulation from D flat to E major looks violently enharmonic on paper, as in the first movement of Beethoven’s Sonata, Op. 110. But E major with four sharps is merely the most convenient way of expressing F flat, a key which would need six flats and a double flat. The reality of an enharmonic modulation can be easily tested by transporting the passage a semitone. Thus, the passage just cited, put a semitone lower, becomes a perfectly diatonic modulation from C to E flat. But no transposition of the sixteen bars before the return of the main theme in the scherzo of Beethoven’s Sonata in E♭, Op. 31, No. 3, will get rid of the fact that the diminished 7th (G B♭ D♭ E♮), on the dominant of F minor, must have changed into G B♭ D♭ F♭ (although Beethoven does not take the trouble to alter the spelling) before it could resolve, as it does, upon the dominant of A♭. But though there is thus a distinction between real and apparent enharmonic modulations, it frequently happens that a series of modulations perfectly diatonic in themselves returns to the original key by a process which can only be called an enharmonic circle. Thus the whole series of keys now in practical use can be arranged in what is called the circle of fifths (C G D A E B F♯ [= G♭] D♭ A♭ B♭ F C, from which series we now see the meaning of what was said in the discussion of key-relationships as to the ambiguity of the relationships between keys a tritone fourth apart). Now no human memory is capable of distinguishing the difference of pitch between the
