The Fugue as an Expression of Rationalist Values

Author(s): David A. Sheldon

Source: International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of Music , Jun., 1986, Vol.
17, No. 1 (Jun., 1986), pp. 29-51
Published by: Croatian Musicological Society

Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/836622

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D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51 29

THE FUGUE AS AN EXPRESSION OF

RATIONALIST VALUES*

DAVID A. SHELDON UDC: 78.01:781.42

Original Scientific Paper

Izvorni znanstveni rad
Western Michigan University, Received: September 2, 1985
Prispjelo: 2. rujna 1985.
School of Music, KALAMAZOO, Accepted: April 7, 1986
Prihvadeno: 7. travnja 1986.
MI 49008, U. S. A.

ABSTRACT

This article attempts to provide a Breitinger, and Alexander Gottlieb

general exploration of rationalist Baumgarten are surveyed. Finally, dis-
thought in seventeenth- and eighteenth' cussions provided by certain Baroque
century Germany, and to explore the writers on fugue and fugal process,
possibility of how this thought might principally Johann Adolph Scheibe and
provide an aesthetic for the most im- Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg, are exam-
portant musical form of the Baroque, ined. The article concludes by trying to
the fugue. After an outline of some of demonstrate how fugue and poetic form
the main principles of rationalist phi- of this period really share the same
losophy, the poetic theories of such im- underlying aesthetic values, and how
portant rationalist writers as Johann these values are an expression of ra-
Christoph Gottsched, Johann Jacob tionalist principles.

Perhaps our view of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries still

suffers from a certain romantic bias. Perhaps we are still somewhat suspect
of the head in deference to the heart, especially in the area of musical
aesthetics. What we usually fail to recognize, I think, is that the tradition
of rationalism, despite its rigid and naive assumptions regarding human
perception and emotion, laid the essential analytical foundations which
made possible the nineteenth-century conceptions of musical form and
purpose. We may speak of this or that artistic revolution during the long

* The author gratefully acknowledges the support given him by Western Michi-
gan University in the form of a Faculty Research Fellowship and Grant.

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30 D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE ..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51

period from the 1600's to the present, but viewed from afar o
development of knowledge concerning how we perceive, a knowledge
engendered by parallel developments in science and mathematics. Quite
obviously, the tools which we have invented to understand the world
around us have been used to good advantage to understand ourselves and
our art. Just as obvious is the fact that our view of art and the artistic
process itself is to a large extent contingent upon, and one might al
limited by, our view of the world. Our cognitive tools and the world
they provide come largely from the tradition of scientific rationalis
The understanding of the aesthetic attitude of a particular period
demands a consideration of all cultural factors, but principally that period's
perception of the world around it, as well as its beliefs regarding man's
purpose within it. To begin by studying the aesthetic literature of the
period in question, particularly of the artistic genre in question, is of
course the safest and most accepted approach. But what about a period
such as the Baroque, and an art such as music? On can hardly speak of
an aesthetic literature here. Even by the late eighteenth century, mu-
sicians and musical theorists were far more concerned with the practical
matters of how to compose or how to perform than with considerations
of aesthetic process and purpose. To be sure, a theory having to do with
composition already had a long tradition by the 1700's, and enjoyed an
interaction with the emerging science of acoustics. But due to its origins
as a branch of Pythagorean mathematics and medieval numero-mysticism,
it was often still somewhat self-indulgent, ignoring broader aspects of form
and intent in favor of arcane pitch classifications and relationships. Even
the extensive practical and theoretical writings on music published during
this period all tend to focus on the vertical, or momentary event.
The musical literature of the seventeenth and early eighteenth cen-
turies which might qualify as aesthetic has to do mainly with music's
relationship to a text. The impetus here came from a renewed interest in
the tradition of classical rhetoric, and had its greatest impact on vocal
composition in such forms as opera, cantata, and oratorio. The result was
a rather universal but by no means systematic agreement on how to
achieve the general mood or affect of the text. Although the focus of this
literature was on music's fidelity to its text and represented the general
moral-didactic concern of the time, it did provide music with an orien-
tation. That this orientation was not truly aesthetic can be seen when one
turns from vocal music to the growing body of instrumental music. It
was instrumental music that forced the eighteenth century to think
aesthetically, albeit most often initially in negative terms. Through pro-
longed confrontation, however, the Age of Reason eventually provided the
Romantic Period with the means by which it could justify instrumental
music as its chief vehicle of expression.
The purpose of this paper is to provide the reader with a general
exploration of rationalist thought in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century

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D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51 31

Germany, and to explore the possibilities of how this though

vide an aesthetic for at least one musical form, the fugue. Following an
outline of some of the main principles of rationalist philosophy, the poetic
theories of such important rationalist writers as Gottsched, Breitinger,
and Baumgarten will be surveyed. Finally, the discussions provided by
certain Baroque writes on fugue and fugal process, principally Scheibe
and Marpurg, will be examined. The intent will be to demonstrate how
fugue and poetic form really share the same underlying aesthetic values,
and how these values are an expression of rationalist principles. This
study was motivated by two facts: 1) that of all the musical forms prev-
alent in Baroque Germany only fugue was given much coverage in the
theoretical literature of the time, and 2) that during the seventeenth and
much of the eighteenth centuries rationalist philosophy reigned supreme
in German universities. This study was also motivated by the belief that
there is a direct causal relationship between these two facts, and that the
very concept of musical form, together with serious musical intent, can
be attributed to the general pervasiveness of rationalist values. Further-
more, this writer feels that fugue represents not a strict form but rather
a formal process, a process limited to neither vocal nor instrumental mu-
sic. Therefore, it is perhaps not too farfetched to regard fugue as the
embodiment of a widely held system of values.
The philosophy of Leibniz reflects the profound influence which
scientific discovery had on traditional thought. The underlying premise
which one encounters in the writings of Leibniz is a perfect and completely
rational God that serves as a logically necessary cause for the existence
of the world. This is no arbitrary, sectarian God, but one whose essence
is the eternal truth of the >nature of things.< Leibniz recognizes two basic
kinds of truth, both verifiable through analysis. Truths of reason are of
the highest order, being unconditional. Such are the a priori truths of
logic and mathematics. Here one can speak actual identities, where pro-
positions are either necessarily true or necessarily false. God is identified
by Leibniz as the only truly necessary substance in the universe, and in
this way His existence is more thoroughly rationalized in the hierarchical
scheme of things.'
Truths of fact, on the other hand, are those truths of the actual, per-
ceptible world around us, and are verifiable only through an infinite ana-
lytical process, one known only to God in His infinite wisdom. Man can
only select, on the basis of empirical evidence, those conclusions that seem
best among possible alternatives. Such truths are therefore contingent
upon available facts, but are valid as long as they remain sufficiently

1 The Principle of Identity could be illustrated in subject-predicate form by

the statement, >An equilateral rectangle is a rectangle<<, where the predicate is ex-
plicitly included in the subject. In accordance with Cartesian doctrine and terminol-
ogy, only such truths can be distinct as well as clear.

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32 D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51

reasonable.2 In the view of Leibniz, God's wisdom serves as a n

final cause for such contingent truth because of the assertio
creation of the world God acted in the best possible way. From
of possibilities God freely chose to actualize those where the
perfection would be at a maximum, i.e., where there would b
possible arrangement of things.3 It must be stressed that th
of Perfection is not a strictly logical one, because God was f
a standard other than that of perfection.4 However, because H
to create the best possible world, and because all of His other
contingent upon this initial decision, the Principle of Perfec
said to serve as a moral basis for all contingent truths.5
As the principle for God's creation of the universe, the P
Perfection gives to the area of contingent truth a necessity, a
rather than logical, necessity. Nevertheless, in so doing He provides a
harmony between the two worlds of truth, just as He also provides a har-
mony between the physical realm of nature (as Architect of the universe)
and the moral realm of grace (as Lawgiver of the divine city of rational
minds). For every rational mind is, in microcosm, an imitation of God in
the macrocosm; and thereby all minds enter by reason and by knowledge
of eternal truths into a fellowship with God. As the eternal and final
reason for all things, God serves as unity for all particulars:
Thus the final reason of things must be in a necessary substance,
in which the variety of particular changes exists only eminently, as
in its source; and this substance we call God. Now as this substance
is a sufficient reason of all this variety of particulars, which are also
connected together throughout, there is only one God, and this God
is sufficient.6
If the essence of God is non-material, indivisible, and immortal, so too,
by logical extension, is the essence of His creation. According to Leibniz,

2 The assertion that every true proposition is analytic is expressed by Leibniz's

Principle of Sufficient Reason.
3 Because the actualization of some possibilities is incompatible with that of
others, the manifold of possible substances splits into mutually exclusive systems
of >compossibleso. In fact, the interrelationships between possible substances within
a possible world are such that each substance is specific to one and only one world.
See Nicholas RESCHER, Leibniz; An Introduction to His Philosophy, Rowman and
Littlefield, Totowa NJ 1979, pp. 49-50 esp.
4 E.g., the worst possible world, or the most mediocre of worlds.
5 A given proposition of the contingent (factual) type is true if the state of
affairs it asserts is one belonging to the best of all possible worlds. Ultimate proof,
however, would require an ,infinite process of comparative analysis, a requirement
only God could satisfy.
6 As quoted and translated by Herbert Wildon CARR, Leibniz, Constable and
Co., London ,1929; reprint ed.: Dover, New York 1960, p. 11. See also Gottfried
Wilhelm von LEIBNIZ, Monadology and Other Philosophical Essays, trans. by P.
and A. M. Schrecker, Bobbs-Merrill, Indianapolis 1965, p. 154.

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D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51 33

therefore, the simple (or primary) substances of the

unities, i. e., they are indivisible and have neither extension (mass) nor
moving parts.7 The scientific discoveries made possible by the micro-
scopes of Leeuwenhoek, Malpighi, and Swammerdam convinced Leibniz
that there were >>worlds within worlds<, with no limits regarding either
the magnification nor the divisibility of matter. Remarkably, yet logically,
inert matter itself was dismissed by Leibniz as inconsequential. Quite early
Leibniz decided that the only real unities in nature are formal, not ma-
terial.8 Derived mainly from the Platonic conception of form, Leibniz's
simple, metaphysical units of substance come to be known generically
as monads. It is important to remember that the world for Leibniz was
a complex, harmonious interrelationship of living organisms, and that one
of his essential goals was to bridge Descartes' dualistic separation of spirit
and matter, mind and body. Understandably, therefore, the monads seem
to represent the essences of living forms in three basic categories: bare
monads (vegetables), souls (animals), and minds (rational man).9
Monads are indestructible, brought into existence (actualized) by
God at the moment of creation. No two are the same, each one guided
in its development by its >>complete individual notion< of itself, which
determines forever its essence and attributes.10 Monads are defined purely
by their internal activity of perception, and to perceive is to represent
composite views of the world. These metaphysical units differ from each
other by their special >,points of view<, and by the degree of clarity and
distinctness in their perceptions.11 At any moment each monad >perceives<<,
or >represents<<, or *expresses<< all the other monads in that a certain
similar relationship exists between their states. This structural agreement

7 Writers have been quick to point out the fallacy in rationalist thought of
equating unity with indivisibility. See John V. BURNS, Dynamism in the Cosmology
of Christian Wolff, Exposition Press, New York 1966, p. 7.
8 Obviously, therefore, Leibniz did not subscribe to the widely-accepted atomist
theory of substance. One might note, too, that the antimaterialism of Leibniz, based
on metaphysical principles, is thus quite in contrast to that of Bishop George Berkeley,
which was the result of an extreme extension of empiricism.
9 Bare monads have perception without consciousness; animal monads (animal
souls) have conscious perception, and even memory, but no self consciousness. Only
human minds (rational souls) have clear knowledge, self consciousness, and some
insight as to the Divine Mind. See H. W. CARR, Leibniz, pp. 129-130.
10 According to this view, the entire future of the world is contained in its
present, completely predetermined in every detail. This provided the basis for the
so-called )>pre-formation? theory in the biological sciences, a theory which ruled
out any sudden or haphazard changes in evolution, and which postulated that in
Eve were all the ova of all future generations of humanity. See Herbert WENDT,
In Search of Adam, trans. by James Clough, Houghton Mifflin, Boston 1956, pp. 86-91.
11 Leibniz is in agreement with Hume and other empiricists in his acknowl-
edgment that perception of the external world is a mere representation of reality.
The composite effect of our perception is illustrated by Leibniz's analogy of stones
being thrown into a pond. What we perceive, at least consciously, is not the clear
circles made by each of the stones, but rather the >>con-fusion(( of all the individual
circles into one composite effect. See N. RESCHER, Leibniz, pp. 1 13!-114.

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34 D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51

among these >,free<< agents however is not a truly reciprocal one.'2 For
example, although every monad perceives all the others, each perceives
more clearly those that are closer or more important to it. One substance
(monad A) represents another (monad B) more fully than vice versa, if
it more clearly and distinctly defines the form they commonly exhibit.13
Therefore no real causal interaction exists among monads, only a recip-
rocal >>perception<. This special reciprocity is built into their mutual
accord by a pre-established harmony. God, as the supreme Monad, is com-
pletely non-intervening.'4 Yet because of His supreme perfection and
wisdom, all the monads act in complete harmony as though they were
influenced by each other. This concept of a pre-established harmony, based
upon the Principle of Perfection, is very important in the thinking of
Leibniz, and would provide the basis for any rationalist aesthetic.15
The best or most perfect world for Leibniz is a world in which there
is a maximum of diversity governed by a minimum of laws. That is to
say, a world in which there is the greatest richness of phenomena, both
quantitatively and qualitatively, but one controlled by the simplest of
principles; a world where almost infinite variety is harmonized into
virtual unity.16 The notion of an infinite variety of possible forms nec-
essarily leads to that of formal continuity. Indeed, such continuity in
the world can be viewed as a mode of its perfection. It is no surprise that
as one of the inventors of the calculus, Leibniz ruled out conceptual leaps,
not only in physical motions and mathematical functions, but in meta-
physical truths as well.17 Typically, natural and mathematical laws served
Leibniz as the basis for the conceptual order of all things. Very important
here is the assertion that if two substances differ by a finite amount there
must be a continuous series of intermediate substances, each of which

12 Monads are >free< to the extent to which they have the opportunity to realize
their natural (i.e., predetermined) powers of self expression and distinct perception.
13 Representation can be defined as the inverse of perception: B is represented
in A insofar as A perceives B. In this instance A can be designated as the more
active monad, and B the more passive.
14 As opposed to the active role of God in the theories of direct causation and
occasionalism (Divine Intervention).
15 The mutual accord provided by pre-established harmony is a contingent
truth, necessary for only the best of all possible worlds, unlike compossibility, which
is a purely logical accord of world substances in the minimal sense of mutual com-
patibility. See N. RESCHER, Letbniz, p. 66.
16 This so-called mini-max principle can be described in physical terms as the
greatest effect produced by the least expenditure. A favorite example used by Leibniz
concerns a drop of water, which, if left undisturbed, will take the form of a sphere,
a shape which has a maximum volume with a minimum of surface area.
17 A line in mathematical terms is a real continuum, with any point merely
ideal. Metaphysically, only the ultimate constituents of the world (i.e., monads) are
real, and any continuum to which they might give rise is merely phenominal.

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D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51 35

differs infinitesimally from the next.18 And what bring

into existence, as well as holds them together to form ph
is an effecting force (wirkende Kraft), which unless resis
tinuous motion.

The concept of continuity therefore leads our discussion back

basic elements of nature and to the rationalist concept of force. T
elements of the universe were regarded as the only true unities,
irreducible to any further constituent substances. In this state, ho
they possess neither internal parts nor extension (i.e., materiality). The
development of the conception of these >atoms of nature" as inextended
points of force must be credited mainly to the most influential disciple
of Leibniz in Germany, Christian Wolff.19 Following Leibniz, Wolff con-
ceived extension as the resultant effect of striving and resisting sub-
stances, substances which become aggregated into material bodies. For
Leibniz and Wolff therefore this force must be conceived prior to and as
the cause of the phenomena that we know as extended reality. In Wolff's
theory of a dynamic universe, force represents a first principle of becoming
in that it represents the cause or sufficient reason for the actuality of all
action (i.e., extension).20 And since the simple elements themselves con-
tain no material, there is nothing within them which can resist the active
force with which they are all endowed. Therefore, it is necessary to
attribute to these elements a continuous change in their internal state.21
In spite of his admittedly imperfect understanding of the simple sub-
stances and their active forces, Wolff does not hesitate to trace the >*mo-
tor? or ,derived? force of a composite body di'rectly to the active forces
of its constituent elements. These active forces conspire >in some way<
to appear as one (i. e., as a compound). It is important to note that in all
other respects the characteristics of a compound are determined not by
its constituent parts themselves, but in the manner in which these parts
are combined. In this way Wolff attempts to distinguish between the
essence and nature of bodies, for with regard to compounds it is clear in
his mind that essence is determined by the order and arrangement of the

18 Space, therefore, is defined referentially. The idea of space without matter

was to Leibniz and his followers absurd. Another important concept here is that
given any conceptual differences between substances, these substances could not
truly coincide spatially. This ruled out, of course, the notion of any material sub-
stance (compound) as being an actual unity (Eins).
19 Wolff avoids the term >>monad< in his writings. Also, for Wolff the only
simple substances capable of perception and representation are souls (animal and
human). See J. V. BURNS, Wolff, pp. 86, 98.
20 In rationalist thought it is always important to distinguish between possible
and actual beings. Existence itself, therefore, is considered a variable characteristic,
or >mode<<.
21 Although there is a continual change of variables (Zufdlligkeiten), the essence
of a substance is never altered. It is interesting to note here too that time is con-
ceptually coordinate with space, and like space, is defined in a purely relational
(phenomenal) manner.

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36 D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51

combining elements.22 The forceful nature of bodies or comp

other hand, exists over and above their essences. Wolff's r
obvious enough here. Not only is force a characteristic of compounds
(extended reality), it is also, as noted above, its underlying cause. As such
it must exist prior to all the other characteristics of a compound. The
active force of simple substances becomes the >>ordinary- or >motor< force
of compounds translated now into actual, observable motion with definite
direction and velocity.23 Likewise, the passive force of elements (appar-
ently) acting upon and resisting one another becomes the force of inertia
in actual bodies. As with active force, inertial force is a prerequisite for
extension, not a consequence of it. But through the force of inertia, a body
resists all change, because inertia resists motion, and in bodies change is
brought about mainly through motion.24 Curiously, Wolff regards direction
as the sole determinant of the >external state< of motor force, and veloc-
ity as the sole determinant of its >internal state<. For Wolff, therefore,
velocity is not a variable (or mode) of matter, but of force. In other words.
he rejects the widely-accepted notion of force/motion equaling matter
modified by velocity.
How directly these philosophical ideas apply to the rationalist view
of art can be seen in the writings of Wolff's student and follower, Johann
Christoph Gottsched.25 The Erste Grunde der gesammten Weltweisheit,
which Gottsched first published in 1733, faithfully transmits the basic
concepts of Leibniz and Wolff regarding nature and our knowledge of
things. This source can well be regarded as the philosophical basis of the
well-known Versuch einer Critischen Dichtkunst (1730), which established
Gottsched as the foremost spokesman in Germany for the rationalist view
of poetry.26 In this way, any discussion of Gottsched's >rediscovery? of
the imitation of nature as the basis for poetry must be viewed broadly
in a Wolffian sense, more so than in the original Aristotelian one. For
Gottsched, in other words, one must imitate the best of all possible

22 Wolff uses the analogies of a watch and a human body to demonstrate that
the essence of any compound substance differs radically from the attributes of the
simple elements which comprise it. See J. V. BURNS, Wolff, pp. 45-46.
23 The ambiguity of Wolff's thihking here is clear from his classification of
motor force. Although it is >>modifiable and pendurable<< (as a true, simple substance),
it is still a phenomenon arising from the forces of its constituent simple substances.
Wolff therefore classifies it as a quasi-substance rather than a true substance.
Leibniz was apparently more inclined to regard it as a true, albeit still incomplete,
substance. See J. V. BURNS, Wolff, pp. 74, 76.
24 BURNS (ibid., pp. 69-70) points out the rationalist fallacy of identifying
resistance (ability of bodies to oppose one another) with inertia (inability of a body
to change itself).
25 As professor of poetry and philosophy at the University of Leipzig throughout
his entire teaching career (1730-66), Gottsched virtually dictated the intellectual
life of that city, and exerted great influence on 18th-century German letters in
general.
26 Seven editions were published by 1762.

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D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51 37

worlds. Not to do so is to want to correct God's model. The limits of imi-

tation, therefore, are set by the truths of >>sufficient reason<. Vernunft,
much more than insight or sensory perception, sets the standard regarding
what is most >natural.<27 However it must be quickly added that all art
is intended for human perception. The rationalists merely believed that
in the perception of beauty the judgement of the rational faculties was
more reliable than that of the senses.28 Whereas the senses can indeed
perceive clearly, only the mind can conceive distinctly.
For Gottsched, as for Leibniz and Wolff, nature represents the sum
of all wirkenden Krdfte (effecting forces). These forces account for th
bringing of possible things to actuality as well as for the endless varia-
tions of the things themselves. A poem, as any other actual composed thi
(zusammengesetztes Ding), signifies a necessary ordering of parts. T
ordering determines the essential meaning of the poem. Therefore, to
understand this meaning the ordering must be perceivable, i.e., the par
must be arranged in an objective, >natural< fashion. Wolff has designat
the qualitative completion (Vollendung) or realization of a thing as its
>>perfection< (Vollkommenheit), explaining it as the agreement (Zusamme
stimmung) of its different elements. For example, a watch would be judg
according to how well its many parts worked together (i.e., how well it
kept time). For Gottsched, too, perfection becomes the desired aim of the
poet, and a concept synonymous with artistic beauty. Perhaps Gottsched's
greatest contribution in this regard is the way in which he relates the
essence of a poem directly to the poet's intention. The poet's artistic intent
(or conception of a natural model) represents the force which brings the
poem into existence, a force which joins the various parts of the poem
together into a unity.29 Gottsched defines a poem as the means by which
the poet seeks to realize an intent (Absicht). If the poem can produce its
intent in the senses/mind (im Sinne), then it fulfills its purpose (Zweck).30
Obviously, clarity of intent or conception plays an important role in
Gottsched's thinking regarding fulfillment of purpose.
The force and clarity of the poet's intent, therefore, guarantee the
similarity (Ahnlichkeit) of the various parts when joined together and in
succession. It the parts are not only similar but also are in agreement, the

27 For the rationalists the laws of nature = the laws of reason (Vernunft).
28 The rational faculty most important in this process is the understanding
(Verstand), one which Gottsched postulates as a sixth sense (or sensum communem),
and one which becomes central to Kant's theory of aesthetic judgment. See Johann
Christoph GOTTSCHED, Versuch einer Critischen Dichtkunst, B. C. Breitkopf,
Leipzig 17511; reprint ed.: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, Darmstadt 1962, p.
123 esp.
29 See Joachim BIRKE, Christian Wolffs Metaphysik und die Zeitgeniossische
Literatur- und Musiktheorie, Walter de Gruyter, Berlin 1966, p. 34.
3O Interestingly, Gottsched also defines the human emotional cry as the original
impulse (Ursache) of poetry. See ibid., p. 35.

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38 D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE ..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51

poem can be said to be objectively perfect (i.e., beautiful).

the unity or clarity of the poet's intent represents the b
fection of the poem. Obviously what Gottsched is objecti
that are unnatural (i.e., improbable, fantastic) or arbitrar
with no apparent cohesion of theme or intent. In his rationalist view,
everything in a poem must be consistent and necessary, relating to the
reader's world of experience.
For Gottsched, the necessary similarity of parts gives rise to an objec-
tive ordering (Ordnung), or ,>uniformity of determination< (Gleichfbrmig-
keit der Bestimmung), of the way the parts are to fit together, an ordering
which in turn gives rise to rules (Regeln) which are to guide the poet in
the realization of his intent.32 Gottsched's rules, therefore, are in no way
conceived as arbitrary or pedantic. Rather, they attempt to objectify the
creative/imitative process for the benefit of the poet trying to realize
his poetic intent.33 Of central importance is the fact that the rules must
represent the essence of the poem as conceived by the poet. Anything
else meant by the phrase >>essence of the poem<<, however, must be sought
in Gottsched's definitions of poetic genres, for he fails in any other way
to define the >special essence of poetry<< in general.34 That his definition
of such incontestible standards or models led to a certain degree of ped-
antry cannot be denied. It should be pointed out in Gottsched's defence,
however, that he admits that a thing/poem may have more than one
possible order to fulfill the same purpose, and that consequently a thing
may have more than one perfection. In addition, Gottsched admits the
possibility of a secondary intent along with the main intent (Hauptabsicht).
This secondary area was to allow for more incidental and entertainment
or pleasurable qualities in a poem.
Pleasure (Lust) in one's perception was, of course, justified by Ho-
race's dictum that poetry should not only serve to instruct (prodesse),
but also delight (delectare). For Gottsched, who was very well acquainted
with the Ars Poetica, pleasure must remain a secondary goal, a kind of
sugar coating for the more important moral and didactic purposes of art.35
Wolff had associated the feeling of pleasure with the perception of per-
fection; typically, however, the subject must possess a knowledge of the

31 One is reminded here not only of the contingent truth of Leibniz's pre-estab-
lished harmony, but also of the rationalist belief that the very essence of compounds
is determined by the order and arrangement of their combining elements.
32 Gottsched does not elaborate beyond the notion of similarity. One can presume
perhaps that in literature generally, as well as in music, continuity is implied in
his conception of Ahnlichkeit.
33 In Gottsched's words, >>Every order possesses its own rule<<. As quoted by
J. BIRKE, Christian Wolffs Metaphysik, p. 42.
34 Other than constantly to refer to the >ground of perfection for all things<
(i.e., the imitation of nature).
35 For Gottsched's German translation of Horace's important work, together
with copious notes and the original Latin text, see J. C. GOTTSCHED, Versuch,
pp. 2--4.

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D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51 39

rules of perfection for his pleasure to be genuine, a stipu

by Gottsched.36 Nevertheless, the justification of percep
terms of the recognition of perfection (i.e., the necessary or
represents a very important step in the later developme
theory.
Closely related to pleasure in the perceptual as well as creative proc-
ess is wit (Witz), defined by Wolff as the >>ease of perceiving similarities-.
Witz is really a compound ability that presupposes the power of invention
or imagination (Einbildungskraft), memory (Geddchtniss), and clear-
sightedness (Scharfsinnigkeit). Scharfsinnigkeit is defined as the ability
to perceive concealed similarities and differences, and is regarded as the
first measure of the perfection of the understanding (Verstand).37 Most
important from the creative standpoint is Einbildungskraft which ex-
presses itself in basically two ways: 1) it can bring back the already in-
vented (by means of memory), or 2) it can create something new. The new
invention, however, must be derived from known truths (i.e., subject to
the limits of sufficient reason). Wolff cautions against empty invention
(leere Einbildung) or merely the Kraft zu erdichten (the tendency to conjure
up things that are in no way possible), again a concern emphatically ex-
pressed by Gottsched.38
In the writings of Johann Jacob Breitinger, initially a supporter of
Gottsched but later an outspoken critic, we can discern a growing re-
laxation of the rationalist view.39 For example, there seems to be more
willingness for the poet to imitate the possible as well as the actual (i.e.,
most perfect) world. To be sure, Breitinger, in reference to the importance
of clarity, points out that viewing the picture of a known person gives more

36 As clear but indistinct knowledge, Lust must be grounded in distinct knowl-

edge to be valid. Birke points out that although not counted by Wolff among the
affects, Lust occupies an important place among his ideas on purpose, and is asso-
ciated with all the pleasant (angenehm) affects. Birke also points out that in the
Von dem Einfluss und Gebrauche der Einbildungs-Kraft (1727) of Johann Jacob
Bodmer and Johann Jacob Breitinger, Wolff's explanation of Lust becomes the
basis of pleasure in the perception of poetry. See J. BIRKE, Christian Wolffs Meta-
physik, pp. 17, 19, 45.
37 BIRKE (ibid., p. 115) points out that for the poet it is a graphic, clear recogni-
tion; for the composer, however, this recognition can only be figural.
38 Another important attribute for the poet (in addition to Witz, Scharfsinnigkeit,
and Einbildungskraft) is Geschmack (taste). Typically for Gottsched, good taste is
developed by enjoying those things that reason and experience have confirmed as
being good, and therefore even in this area of confused sensations, such judgments
are ultimately made by the understanding. See J. C. GOTTSCHED, Versuch, p. 123.
39 Although the title and contents of Breitinger's main work, Critische Dichtkunst,
are obviously indebted to Gottsched's Versuch, its rationalist tone is decidedly
muted. Very interesting, for example, are the many quotes from John Locke's Essay
Concernling THumnan Understandin,g (1690). See Johann Jacob BREITINGER, Critische
Dichtkunst, C. Orell, Zurich 1740; reprint ed.: J. B. Metzler, Stuttgart 1966, II, pp
292-294 esp. See also fn. 36.

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40 D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51

pleasure than that of someone unknown because there is no chance to

judge the likeness of the copy.40 Also emphasized is the necessary
agreement between copy and model.41 However, he also states that man
is more curious about the possible and the future than he is about the pres-
ent (i.e., the actual), and that possiible truths have an advantage over the
actual ones in that they can entertain by means of their newness (Ver-
wundersame).42 Most interesting, perhaps, are Breitinger's remarks re-
garding the >>emotional style< (hertzruhrenden Schreibart). His statement
that the passions must burn in the heart (of the poet), or else the result
will be unnatural and ridiculous certainly reminds one of Quantz's often-
-quoted remarks concerning the importance of feeling the emotions of a
musical work one is performing.43 Most important from the standpoint of
form, however, is a passage which deserves to be quoted in its entirety:
The character of this kind of speech is such that in the disposition of
its delivery, the combination of its words and phrases, and the com-
position of its phrases themselves, it is not bound by the grammatical
laws or logical order which a calmer state of mind would require.
Rather, this kind of discourse results in the kind of combination,
arrangement, and impetus required by the quick representation of a
phantasy which is excited to a certain degree by the frenzy of passions,
and in this way one can recognize by the form of speech the animation
which has overcome the calm state of mind.44

In order to understand the essential differences of emphasis in the

writings of Gottsched and Breitinger, one need only compare this passage

40 J. J. BREITINGER, Critische Dichtkunst, I, pp. 73-74. In ibid., II, the author

stresses that clarity is the most important aspect of style.
41 At one point (ibid, I. pp. 53-54) BREITINGER states that a perfect agreement
exists when the copy has the same effect on the perceiver as does the model; a
little later (ibid., p. 72) one reads that the copy should have more Kraft than the
original.
42 Ibid., I, p. 61.
43 Ibid., II, p. 368. See also Johann Joachim QUANTZ, Versuch einer Anweisung
die Flote traversiere zu spielen, H.-P. Schmitz, Breslau l1789; reprint ed.; Bairenreiter,
Kassel 1964, p. .107.
44 J. J. BREITINGER, Critische Dichtkunst, II, pp. 354-355: >Die Eigenschaft
dieser Sprache bestehet demnach darinnen, dass sie in der Anordnung ihres Vortrags,
in der Verbindung und Zusammensetzung der Worter und Redensarten, und in der
Einrichtung der Rede-Satze sich an kein grammatisches Gesetze, oder logicalische
Ordnung, die ein gesetzteres Gemuithe erfordem, bindet; sondern der Rede eine
solche Art der Verbindung, der Zusammenordnung, und einen solchen Schwung
giebt, wie es die raschen Vorstellungen einer durch die Wuth der Leidenschaften
auf einem gewissen Grad erhizten Phantasie erheischen; also dass man aus der
Form der Rede den Schwung, den eine Gemuithes-Leidenschaft iiberkommen hat,
erkennen kan.<

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D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51 41

with that in Gottsched's Versuch on the poetry of lament (

Certainly the most important contribution to the concep
form in the first half of the eighteenth century was by an
rationalist, one who is also credited with instituting the te
very concept, of aesthetics: Alexander Gottlieb Baumgarten
recent scholarship we now have an excellent translation an
of Baumgarten's first published work, Reflections on Poetry
Reflections itself is a formalized, axiomatic study of Horace
Two main principles are combined and developed as a resul
of >lucid order,< as proposed by Horace, and the doctrine o
distinct ideas< as found in the rationalist philosophy of Des
and Wolff. One of Baumgarten's most important assertion
representations of the poet are indeed clear and confu
rather than clear and distinct, because poetry essentially h
individual qualities and sensual details. In contrast to the c
and general concepts of the higher faculty of cognition (r
renders objects intensively clear, poetry, by means of
confused categories of sense representations, gives to an ob
sive clarity. The more sensuous detail a poem embraces, the
clarity it has. In other words, poetry's lack of logical disti
ceived as a weakness by earlier rationalists, is simply negat
garten by formulating an altogether different basis for cla
The extensive clarity of the poet serves to particularize
only individuals are poetic in the highest degree. By reach
essence to accidental and irrelevant sensuous detail of all k
becomes vivid and at the same time fully concrete. In orde
extend their representations (and thereby be poetic), poets
with more general images, or to represent nonsensate conce

45 Although Gottsched states that in this type of imitation (o

others) that one can tell if the poet himself has felt such sentiments
implies is preferable to not ever having felt them at all), he also r
poet cannot feel them as strongly as the character whom he is im
more, Gottsched feels that the poet would need time to wait until his
stilled before he could put in order (richten) his thoughts on the
loss and misfortune. See J. C. GOTTSCHED, Versuch, pp. 145-146.
46 Alexander Gottlieb BAUMGARTEN, Reflections on Poetry; A
lieb Baumgarten's Meditationes philosophicae de nonnullis ad poem
trans. with intro. and notes by K. Aschenbrenner and W. B. Holth
fornia Press, Berkeley 1954. This work was Baumgarten's doctoral diss
pleted in *1735. Later works are the Metaphysica (1739); and the Aesth
Baumgarten died before completing the latter work, and it remain
lated into a modern language.
47 This venerable and influential source from Roman antiqui
treatise on the rules of poetry and a realization of these rules in poetic form. For
a modern English translation into both verse and prose, together with the original
Latin, see: HORACE (Quintus Horatius Flaccus), The Art of Poetry, trans. B. Raffel
and J. Hynd, State Univ. of New York Press, Albany 1974.
48 See A. G. Baumgarten, Reflections, pp. 22, 43 esp.

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42 D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51

affecting situations. For this reason, too, poets like to represe

rather than simple things. For the sake of economy as well as
the poet must be able to fuse categories. This is accomplished
by the use of poetic imagery (e. g., images of time and season). By the
use of descriptive imagery the poet can pleasantly fuse together sense
impressions, images, and >fictions?. Also, through allusions or partial rep-
resentations, an image of an object will recur as a whole. The figurative
use of images (e.g., metaphor) is most important in exploiting resemblances,
for not only are they sensate but they supply complex, confused repre-
sentations in abundance.49
Baumgarten, however, warns of those poets who wrongly suppose
that the more obscure and intricate their effusions, the more ,>poetic< their
diction.50 His reference here is mainly to representations that contain insuf-
ficient characteristic traits to be clear (i.e., to recognize them and distin-
guish them from others). Very importantly, too, Baumgarten cautions
against the lack of connection that results from ,unrelated metaphors<
and ,,superfluous epithets.<51 Likewise, it is also poetic to avoid ,>tautologous
epithets<, since they are contrary to brevity.52 These concerns bring one
into the area of criticism in Baumgarten's Reflections, and into an area
that has to do most directly with form. It should be noted that the ear is
called upon to judge whether or not a poem produces sensate pleasure or
displeasure.53 The pleasure of the ear is used to justify measure in poetry,
and hence establish poetry as ,miore perfect< than prose. But a measured
and ordered arrangement of syllables (i.e., meter) is more pleasurable to
the ear than is a measured but free arrangement.54 Likewise, one reads
that >If the highest displeasure is produced in the ear, it will distract the
attention of the listener. Hence, either few or no representations can be
further communicated, and the poem fails altogether in its purpose. <55
Here especially the judgmental use of the ear is placed in proper perspec-
tive. Of chief importance is the communication of representations in order
to achieve the poet's intent. And to communicate clearly, the represen-
tations must be connected and not too lengthy.56

49 See ibid., pp. 22-24, 45-68 esp.

-" Ibid., p. 41.
51 Ibid., p. 69.
52 Ibid. Although Baumgarten mentions no specific poet, he most certainly had
in mind the metaphorical effusiveness of someone li4ke the Silesian Lohenstein.
Gottsched's writings contain many warnings against )>Silesian bombast.?
53 Ibid., pp. 69-70.
54 Ibid., pp. 73--74.
55 Ibid., p. 70.
56 Baumgarten defines >>brief discourse<< as >that having nothing in it that could
be left out without loss of a degree of perfection. Such brevity, since it is proper
to every discourse, is also proper to a poem. See ibid., p. 65. This demand for brevity
within the context of extensive clarity reminds one of the rationalist world view
in which a maximum of diversity obtains with a minimum of laws.

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D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE .. ., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, I!9-35 43

In Baumgarten's definition of poetry as a -perfect sensate disco

equal weight must be given each word.57 For discourse or commun
to take place, there must be sufficient order and interconnection of parts.
Echoing the other rationalists, Baumgarten points out that the parts of a
poem are determined by and subordinated to a central theme. >Theme<
is defined as >that which in representation contains the sufficient reason
of other representations in the discourse, but which does not find its own
sufficient reason in them.?58 Also, with all representations subordinated to
the theme, >they will be connected among themselves. Therefore, they
follow each other in order, like causes and effects. Therefore [too] the de-
gree of similarity observable in the succession of representations is the
degree of order in the poem. ,59 Baumgarten then associates this order or
method with the -lucid order? (lucidus ordo) mentioned by Horace.6?
Most interesting is Baumgarten's attempt to develop this notion of
lucid order further. He characterizes the general rule of lucid order as
a method by which >poetic representations are to follow each other in
such a way that the theme is progressively represented in an extensively
clearer way... Therefore, later representations ought to set forth the
theme of the poem more clearly than the earlier ones.?61 Here, too, Baum-
garten compares the poet with the Creator, pointing out that there is an
analogy ,>in the rule of order by which things in the world follow one
another for disclosing the glory of the Creator, the ultimate and highest
theme of some immense poem, if one may so speak.<,62 Later in the Reflec-
tions, Baumgarten, in discussing the poet's role in imitating nature, points
out that representations produced immediately from nature, that is, from
the intrinsic principle of change in the universe and from actions de-
pendent on this principle, can never be distinct and intelligible since they
are sensate; but they are extensively clear, and as such, are poetic.63 As
the translators of the Reflections note, it is not at all difficult to associate
these allusions to nature with the rationalist world view.64
How the rationalist conception of form relates to music is not at all
difficult to imagine. Within the vast literature of theoretical works in this
area published in Germany during the eighteenth century, the most direct

57 This interpretation of poetry is stressed in the opening articles (4-8) of the

Reflections. See ibid. pp. 38-39i. esp.
58 Ibid., p. 62.
59 Ibid., p. 63.
80 On lines 40-45 of the Ars Poetica. See HORACE, Art of Poetry, pp. 11, 37, 45.
61 A. G. BAUMGARTEN, Reflections, p. 63.
62 Ibid., p. 64.
63 Ibid., p. 76.
64 Aschenbrenner and Holther suggest that by >actions of nature< Baumgarten
might have had in mind >the exfoliation of substance into individual, the endless
repetition of general types with subtle individual differences, the progressive move-
ment of the causal series, the constant creati'on at each successive moment of time
of the best possible and the greatest possible number of things, in accordance with
the principle of sufficient reason.<< See ibid., p. 29.

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44 D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51

link in this regard features Johann Adolph Scheibe. The title alone of
Scheibe's important periodical, Critischer Musikus, which appeared in
Leipzig from 1737 to 1741, is enough 'to demonstrate the strong influence
that Gottsched had on him.65 Most certainly the two came into direct con-
tact during Scheibe's time as a student in jurisprudence at Leipzig Uni-
versity. Johann Birke substantiates beyond any doubt the close similarity
between the aesthetic ideas of Gottsched and Scheibe.66 For example,
Scheibe's necessary qualities of a composer (Witz, Scharfsinnigkeit, and
Einbildungskraft) are obviously a direct borrowing of those qualities which
Gottsched looks for in a poet.67 Scharfsinnigkeit is specified as important
in the discovery of similarities which are >,new, wonderful, and not com-
mon or known.< Scheibe claims Einbildungskraft as the most important
quality, however, along with a reasonable memory.68 Not unlike Gott-
sched's view of the poetic process, the naturalness of a musical work for
Scheibe depends on the observation of the rules of music for the attain-
ment of the determined goal. These rules guarantee the agreement of the
manifold and make the imitation reasonable; whereas nature sets the
limits, the intent (Absicht) prescribes the rules within these limits.69 Mel-
ody and harmony are described as the characteristics (Eigenschaften) of
music, with melody defined as ,,a well-ordered series of various tones,
which are heard one after the other.<70

Although the empiciral basis for melody is specified by Scheibe, he

fails to explain by what metaphysical principles the composer achieves

65 Johann Adolph SCHEIBE, Critischer Musikus, B. C. Breitkopf, Leipzig 1745;

reprint ed.: G. Olms, Hildesheim 1970. See also George J. BUELOW, >Scheibe, Johann
Adolph<, The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, Macmillan, New York
1i980, XVI, pp. 599-600.
66 See J. BIRKE, Christian Wolffs Metaphysik, pp. 50--65.
67 Ibid., p. 63. See also J. A. SCHEIBE, Critischer Musikus, p. 774.
68 See J. A. SCHEIBE, Critischer Musikus, pp. 101--102.
69 J. BIRKE, Christian Wolffs Metaphysik, p. 59. See also J. A. SCHEIBE*
Critischer Musikus, p. 772. As with Gottsched regarding poetry, music must ulti-
mately have a moral intent, although pleasure is certainly recognized as a legitimate
secondary concern.
70 As quoted in J. BIRKE, Christian Wolffs Metaphysik, p. 61: >Die Melodie
ist eine wohlgeordnete Reihe verschiedener T6ne, die nach einander zu Geh6re
kommen. See also J. A. SCHEIBE, Critischer Musikus, p. 209. It should be empha-
sized that the >science< of harmony received more attention by Baroque writers
than any other aspect of music, and that >natural< acoustical principles were con-
tinually sought to substantiate the harmonic rules of the period. Obviously the concept
of a >harmonious fitting together of parts<< is based on a musical model, one pro-
vided by the rationalist urge to define and justify. Important 17th-century contributors
to the concept of a universal/musical harmony include Johann Amos Comenius,
Johannes Kepler, and Marin Mersenne. See the chapter )On Universal Harmony<<,
in Leroy E. LOEMKER, Struggle for Synthesis; The Seventeenth Century Back-
ground of Leibniz's Synthesis of Order and Freedom, Harvard Univ. Press, Cam-
bridge 1972, pp. 177-202.

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D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51 45

his reasonable (verniinftigen) imitation.71 Rather, one sees t

of the ear as the practical basis for judgement in the actual process of
composition.72 Quite clearly, although the compositional-imitative activity
of the musician must be examined by reason, the ear is the only sense by
which reason can judge.73 Interestingly, the only area of musical compo-
sition that Scheibe actually describes as process or form is that of fugue.74
To this musical process Scheibe devotes articles 49 through 51 of the Cri-
tischer Musikus.75
In the unfolding of a fugue, the basic theme or subject (Hauptsatz) is
presented alone at the outset in one >voice-, while the other participating
voices (usually two or three) remain silent. The subject often begins with
an intervallic skip of a fourth or fifth in long note values, then gathers mo-
mentum by dissolving into shorter (eighth or sixteenth) values, which
push to a cadential close. At this point the subject is then >answered<< by
an adjacent voice in the texture, while the initial voice continues with
a counterpoint which both contrasts and harmonizes with the answer.
This answer begins on a scale degree a fifth higher (or fourth lower) than
that of the initial pitch of the subject.76 Although Scheibe does not go into
a great deal of technical explanation regarding the form of the answer,
many other writers of the period do, for it is at this point that the fugal
process really begins.77 Suffice it to say that the answer's imitation of the
subject must be very close, enough to maintain the essential thematic
unity of the composition while being sufficiently altered to preserve its
essential tonal unity.78 For example, whereas the subject might begin with

71 As J. BIRKE (Christian Wolffs Metaphysik, pp. 61-602) points out, Scheibe

found the models of melody both within and outside of man (human speech, birds,
etc.). Birke also points out, however, that Scheibe was unsuccessful in finding such
a basis for harmony in the imitation of nature.
72 Composition for Scheibe meant ))to express oneself in notes<< or >)to express
thoughts in notes.? J. BIRKE (Christian Wolffs Metaphysik, p. 58) observes that
Scheibe ignored the philosophical problem of, how a multiplicity of sounds can
represent a single feeling (since each note would represent a single unity or thing),
nor did Scheibe go into the question of the correspondence between feelings and the
sounds themselves. See also J. A. SCHEIBE, Critischer Musikus, p. 81.
73 See J. A. SCHEIBE, Critischer Musikus, p. 200 esp. for Scheibe's cautious
acceptance of the ear as judge in matters of musical taste.
74 As pointed out in the opening remarks of this article, fugue was really the
only musical form described to any extent by any writer before the end of the 18th
century.
75 J. A. SCHEIBE, Critischer Musikus, pp. 447--485.
76 Ibid., p. 466.
77 See Johann MATTHESO~N, Der vollkommene Capellmeister, C. Herold, Ham-
burg 1739; reprint ed.: Bairenreiter, Kassel 1969, pp. 366-414; and Friedrich Wilhelm
MARPURG, Handbuch bey dem Generalbasse und der Composition, G. A. Lange,
Berlin 1755-60; reprint ed.; G. Olms, Hildesheim, 1974, pp. 307---324.
78 Writers on fugue have traditionally used the term >)imitation? (Nachahmung
in German) to describe the process by which the answer models itself on the subject.
This use of this term, and its relationship to the larger, aesthetic concept of >imita-
tion of nature< are topics which deserve more study. In this article no direct con-
nection between the musical and aesthetic usages of >imitation< is intended.

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46 D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51

a skip up of a fourth (from scale degree 5 to 1), the answer most likely
would alter the interval to that of a fifth (from scale degree 1 up to 5).79
Also, if the subject ends with a modulation to the dominant tonality (that
of scale degree 5), the answer is altered so that it will conclude back in the
tonic, or central key area.
When all the participating parts have presented their respective sub-
jects and answers, usually in strict alternation, the first and most impor-
tant formal unit of the fugue is completed.80 It should be noted that the
subject (and answer) forms do not vary at all, at least in this initial expo-
sition (Repercussio, or Wiederschlag). Also, neither subject nor answer
form appears two (or more) times in succession, and neither the subject
nor the answer should appear in the same voice two or more times in
succession.81 These and other rules too numerous to cite here are all intend-
ed to guarantee the thematic-tonal unity of the fugal texture.82 In fact, the
provide a high degree of order and clariity, sufficient reason for their u
while maintaining an even flow and distribution of the main thematic
material. Obviously there is no better example of continuity anywhere
in music.
Nothing which Scheibe says concerning this initial exposition is rea
new. Of interest, however, is what he has to offer concerning the fu
process (Verfahren) after this point, for in the Critischer Musikus we
perhaps the first attempt to describe the fugue in its entirety. Of gr
importance, for example, is the detailed description of the episodes (Z
schensdtze) which alternate between the initial and later expositions. H
the subject is not stated in its entirety. Rather, >certain portions< of it
>developed< (durcharbeitet) in >free imitation.8ss This process gives ri
to the invention of ,>brand new phrases< (ganz neue Sdtze) which wer
the subject >undetected< (ungeachtet) all along. Scheibe points out, furth
more, that if the subject is long and the number of imitating voices ma

79 This is the so-called tonic-dominant rule, which specifies that the tonic pitch
(1) is answered by the dominant (5), and vice versa. See MARPURG, Handbuch,
p. 311.
80 Here the >rules< of fugal writing seem most stringent and well defined, even
to the extent of specifying the order of appearance of the imitating voices. The most
common, as well as most favored, order is that of soprano, alto, tenor, and bass, i.e.,
a >natural<< sequence of entries from very highest to very lowest. See F. W. MAR-
PURG, Handbuch, pp. 326-327.
81 Marpurg is very explicit in this regard. See ibid., pp. 324-326.
82 As mentioned above, after an entering voice has completed its subject (or
answer) statement, it provides contrasting counterpoint to the next successive subject
(or answer) statement in the imitating voice. Although this harmonizing counterpoint
often varies from voice to voice, it is not uncommon for it to maintain its own
identity as a secondary or >counter-subject< (Gegensatz). Scheibe points out the
possibility of this contrasting counterpoint giving rise to as many other fugu
subjects (and therefore, independent fugues) as there are participating voices. Se
J. A. SCHEIBE, Critischer Musikus, p. 468.
83 Ibid., p. 467. Scheilbe specifies that these subject fragments must be accom
panied by counter-subject material.

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D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51 47

then innumerable (unzahlige) variations can result. He notes the

this as not only enabling the composer to lengthen the entire fu
manner, but also to provide >various newly-appearing variations-< along
the way.84 The importance of all this attenfion to >?well- planned." (wohlaus-
gesuchte) episodes, according to Scheibe, is due to a basic concern for co-
hesion or continuity (Zusammenhang) as well as for the attentiveness
(Aufmerksamkeit) of the listener.85 In no other aspect of fugue composition
does Scheibe seem to make so many demands on the Witz, Scharfsinnig-
keit, and Einbildungskraft of the composer. He also seems to agree with
Baumgarten regarding the importance of as much extensive clarity or
development of theme as possible.
Several pages later Scheibe again details developmental techniques
in the fugal process, which again serve to create xinnumerable variations*<,
although it is not always clear whether or not these are to be used in expo-
sitions of episodes.86 The most important device mentioned here is that of
uniformly increasing the note values (usually simply by doubling) of the
subject in one voice against the subject in normal note values in another.
Scheibe's term for this is Augmentation. He also points out the opposite
effect of diminution (Verringerung). Another interpretation of the term
augmentation is also cited: the use of fragments of the subject (Zerglei-
derung der Noten) in one or two voices, presumably in episodes. This tech-
nique is cited as particularly beautiful in strict fugues. Scheibe also notes
its use, especially if handled in a >well-contrived,< manner, in fugues with
both instruments and voices where the parts are inverted according to the
rules of double counterpoint.87
The importance of naturalness and clarity is stressed by Scheibe
throughout his lengthy discussion of the fugal process. All forced and
>hard*< passages are to be avoided. The movement of voices must be
unforced and natural. Advocated are pauses in certain voices at certain
times, mainly in order to ensure the clarity or perceptibility of subject
entrances.88 Scheibe means pauses not only in voices just prior to their
entrances with subject statements, but apparently also in those voices
against which the subject is placed. The pausing or dropping out of voices
is also useful in developmental or episodic passages where, in four-part
textures especially, the silence of one part makes it easier to hear the
84 Ibid., pp. 467-468.
85 Ibid., p. 467. This concern seems especially intended for fugues with short
subjects.
s8 Ibid., p. 470. Marpurg is much more explicit regarding the formal distinctions
between exposition and episode. See F. W. MARPURG, Handbuch, pp. 340-341.
87 In other words, one might hear voices as the highest parts in the texture,
and then, after the inversion, instruments as the highest. Also, different combinations
of voices and instruments are possible. Interestingly, Scheibe uses the term Evolution
in the context of such alternating textures. See J. A. SCHEIBE, Critischer Musikus,
pp. 468, 470.
88 By >pauses< (Pausen) Scheibe presumably means rests for the duration of
not more than one or several measures.

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48 D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51

augmentation and fragmentation of subject material in the o

makes it easier to hear the use of several different thematic
sounded at once. Whatever the situation, however, Scheibe points out that
the momentary dropping out of a voice should never itself be noticeable,
and he also insists that these pauses are not to be arbitrary or used simply
to avoid >harmonic blunders-.89 Just as pauses in certain voices are essen-
tial in ensuring the clear perception of important thematic material, so
too must special care be taken in the use of cadences to avoid interrupting
the continuity (Zusammenhang) of the fugal process. This seems particu-
larly crucial in longer fugues,90 Scheibe goes into much detail to make
certain that the composer understands the various kinds of cadences and
their uses.91 Cadences are important, of course, in the establishment of
new tonalities. In this sense they are essential for the developmental proc-
ess and the tonal clarity of the fugue, points that are only implicit in
Scheibe's remarks.92 However, he is very unequivocal in describing the
importance of preparing for the return of the tonic key, a return that
signals the conclusion of the fugue. As such, the return of the tonic rep-
resents the most important formal principle for the entire process. As
such, too, the discussion can now be seen to resemble by way of analogy
Baumgarten's concept of lucid order in poetry.
Scheibe specifies that the tonic must be approached in such a '>natural?
manner that the listener iis scarcely aware of its coming. It can be
approached either directly or by means of the dominant.93 Implicit here
is a cadence before the tonic entrance of the subject, for Scheibe states
that from this point on no cadences in any other tonality are necessary.94
At any rate, the author points out that the closer one gets to the end, the
more important it is to prepare for the final cadence, which must be pre-
pared in a ,pleasant. and >natural< way.95 Coincident with the return of
the tonic key, therefore, is the final return of the subject, a moment that
can easily be seen as the culmination of the fugal process.

89 J. A. SCHEIBE, Critischer Musikus, pp. 479-481. Scheibe also insists that

the pauses should not be filled in by the performer (with improvised notes), asserting
again not only the importance of clarity, but also the need not to tire the ears of
the listener. The value of >comfort< (Bequemlichkeit) dn this regard is mentioned
several times.
9o Ibid., p. 475.
91 Ibid., pp. 474-475. E.g., it is better to use a >>melodic<, or harmonic half
cadence in the middle of a fugue, than to use a full harmonic (authentic) one.
92 Marpurg is much more explicit regarding the exploration of other nearly-
-related keys. See F. W. MARPURG, Handbuch, pp. 329--331.
93 J. A. SCHITRF., Critischer Musikus, p. 4717. In this regard, too, Scheibe men-
tions the use of the dominant pedal, as well as the deceptive cadence.
94 Scheibe's main point here is that once the fugue returns to the tonic, no
more modulations away from this key center should be expected. In many fugues
of this period there is a cadence in the tonic key, either immediately before the
tonic entrance of the subject, or before the episode which precedes this entrance.
95 Ibid., p. 477. See also p. 4711.

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D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51 49

Scheibe points out that after all the ,numerous variations< evenly
distributed among all the voices, the subject should appear as it did in
the very beginning, but with its countersubject and in full harmony with
the other voices. This subject statement must proceed in such a natural
way as to make the conclusion an absolute necessity (unumgdngliche Not-
wendigkeit), and that every listener can clearly hear that the final cadence
is sufficient to be able to bring the work to a necessary, free, and con-
vincing conclusion.96 In the remarks of F. W. Marpurg, who details the
form of the fugue more than does Scheibe, the culminating aspect of the
fugal process at this point is somewhat more explicit. He describes the
conclusion as a place >where one works over the subject in yet different
ways, now whole, now fragmented, with all kinds of imitation, especially
close canonic imitation, and where one can finally end emphatically, with a
pedal point if so desired~.97 Elsewhere Marpurg states that the largest, most
ambitious passages must remain at the end of a fugue while the smaller
must precede these. This principle, he observes, >,is based on the reminder
of a great composer that the beginning be good, the middle still better,
and the end excellent<.98

Interestingly, analyses of fugues from this period and others tend to

substantiate the observations of both Scheibe and Marpurg. For example,
the closer imitative distance between subject and answer, which Marpurg
indicates beginning already with the second exposition, often results in
stretto culminations near the end of a fugue.99 In such stretto fugues this
intense concentration of imitative activity at the end is usually preceded
in the fugal process by smaller, less intense strettos. In this way, perhaps,
the fugue can be seen to build towards a climax, although at the same time
the episodes also usually increase in length so that an overall evennes
of subject distribution is maintained.100
In conclusion, and without stretching the most obvious analogies too
far, one might make the following observations: The essence of the fugue
subject seems to be unchanging in the fugal process, just as the simple
substance (monad) of the rationalist philosophers, and just as the central
theme of a poem. In the unfolding of the fugue this essence is gradually
revealed by a variety of developmental means. It is as though the full
potential of the subject is being examined in the process of varying al

96 Ibid., p. 471.
97 F. W. MARPURG, Handbuch, p. 337.
98 Ibid., p. 3'3'5. Most likely the >great composer(< referred to is J. S. Bach, whose
fugal style served Marpurg as a model, and with whom he had personally talked.
Marpurg had provided the 1752 edition of Bach's Art of Fugue with a long foreword.
See Hans T. DAVID and Arthur MENDEL, The Bach Reader, W. W. Norton, New
York 1'96,6, pp. 266-268.
99 See MARPURG, Handbuch, p. 336. This is a point made more clearly by
Mattheson. Cf. J. MATTHESON, Capellmeister, pp. 388-389 esp.
100 See both fugues in b-flat minor (no. 22). See also fugues no. 5 (D major)
and no. 7 (E-flat major) in Bk. II.

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50 D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51

possible secondary characteristics. Not even the overall lengt

ject seems to be essential, only the underlying intervallic an
relationships of its identifiable parts. The most important pa
is that of the very beginning. This >>head? motive seems to
impetus or energy to the fugal process, an important factor
motion and continuity to the end. As with poetry, much her
of the creator. Understandably, the selection of the subject it
because the reasoned and well-planned development of this
upon all of the composer's powers of inventiveness and logi
sive detail must fit together into one harmonious whole, w
sential leaps, surprises, or interruptions. Formal unity and
always be the composer's main intent no matter what cours
ment the subject makes possible. It is indeed the essence of
itself that determines the rules or limits of the development
the observance of these rules gives to a particular fugue its
of formal inevitability.101
Fugue, therefore, represents a very dynamic process, the
ic in all of music. It is no wonder that it lives on today, havi
itself to a great variety of styles and idioms along the way.
for example, to the >development< section of the sonata fo
eighteenth century, and served the romantics well in the c
many of their major compositions. Furthermore, many of f
sitional principles were simply absorbed into the mainstrea
thinking. Perhaps better than any other artistic form, musical o
it can be seen as the embodiment of rationalist values, values
the fugue itself, have proven to be immutable and endurin
no other artistic form can the synthesis of scientific and metap
ciples be seen so easily, a synthesis which so strikingly rese
tionalist concept of the world as non-material essence givin
terial combination and extension. In fugue, more than any
form of this period, the force and order of the opening soun
can be clearly seen to result in more and more sounds. T
fitting together all participating voices into a harmonious de
musical >ideas* ultimately results in the expressive force of
of the whole, while revealing the innermost essence of the
process is governed not only by the a priori demands of lo
and harmonic tradition, but also by the composer's clarity o
creative imagination. A successful fugue, therefore, can be
best (or one of the best) possible realizations of the subject.
if one views this subject in monadic terms (i.e., as simple su

101 One is reminded of Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach's remark that when his
father heard the beginning of a fugue he would at once state what contrapuntal
devices it would be possible to apply, and which of them the composer by rights
ought to apply. See H. DAVID and A. MENDEL, The Bach Reader, p. 37. Also, pp.
30, 324-325.

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D. A. SHELDON, THE FUGUE..., IRASM 17 (1986), 1, 29-51 51

material point of force, essence, or potential), it is not at all

to see the fugue as an expression of the rationalist world in
the best of all possible worlds, in which the greatest diversit
is constrained by the simplest of laws. In the case of an ind
the most elemental law of all is represented by the subject itself.

Sa,etak

FUGA KAO IZRAZ RACIONALISTICKIH VRIJEDNOSTI

U ovom se 6lanku poku?ava izvrsiti opce istrazivanje racionalisti6ke misli u

Njema:koj 17. i 1(8. stoljeca, te istraziti mogu6nost kako je ta misao mogla odrediti
estetiku za najvalniju glazbenu formu baroka, fugu. Nakon kraceg pregleda nekih
glavnih principa racionalisti6ke filozofije, daje se pregled pjesni.kih teorija takvih
vaznih racionalisti6kih pisaca kao Sto su bili Johann Christoph Gottsched, Johann
Jacob Breitinger i Alexander Gottlieb Baumgarten. Na kraju se ispituju rasprave
nekih baroknih pisaca o fugi i fugalnom procesu, od kojih su najvazniji Johann
Adolph Scheibe i Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg. Clanak zavrsava pokusajem da se
pokaZe kako fuga i pjesnicka forma toga razdoblja uistinu dijele iste pozadinske
estetiEke vrijednosti. i kako su te vrijednosti izraz racionalistickih principa.

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