Rebecca Clarke and Sonata Form: Questions of Gender and Genre

Author(s): Liane Curtis

Source: The Musical Quarterly , Autumn, 1997, Vol. 81, No. 3 (Autumn, 1997), pp. 393-
429
Published by: Oxford University Press

Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/742324

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The Twentieth Century

Rebecca Clarke and Sonata Form:

Questions of Gender and Genre

Liane Curtis

Rebecca Clarke's Sonata for Viola and Piano is her best-known work; its
premiere in 1919 originally brought her to public notice, and perfor-
mances and recordings of it have led the revival of interest in Clarke as a
composer.1 It "now seems to be entering the canon," according to Rhian
Samuel, coeditor of the Norton/Grove Dictionary of Women Composers.2
(Some point out that, for violists hungry for quality repertoire, Clarke's
work was never forgotten.)3 Despite this widespread and growing recogni-
tion, Clarke and her music have been largely ignored by scholars.4

My intent is to discuss Clarke's Sonata for Viola and Piano as a case

study in considering some recent theories of gender and sonata form. I
begin with a conventional descriptive analysis of the first movement,
one suitable for a nonspecialist audience. Then I proceed to critique the-
ories of gendered sonata form and to place them in the specific context
of Clarke's work, examining what her thoughts on sonata form might
have been, based on her situation and training. What was Clarke's pur-
pose in writing this work? What cultural or social agendas might we
expect to find her-consciously or unconsciously-communicating? The
problem of finding a method of musical analysis that will demonstrate
the cultural meaning of a work is of course an all-encompassing one that
will not be solved here. Instead I suggest that whatever attempt of analy-
sis we make is going to be solidified and substantiated by placing it in a
detailed, specific historical and cultural context, one that draws upon
many types of experiences intersecting with the work in question.

Descriptive Analysis

The opening gesture of the Sonata for Viola and Piano is bold, with the
trumpet call of the leaping fifths evoking a martial feeling; the dotted
rhythms are charged with energy. This outward assertiveness seizes the
listener's attention in a striking manner (see Ex. 1). But this declaration

393

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394 The Musical Quarterly

Impetuoso x
- V- -

if3

Example 1. Viola Sonata, First movement, fir

Chester, Ltd. Reprinted by Permission of G. S

of the four-measure initial statem

move into a viola cadenza, which b
meter with a spontaneous invocat
rhapsodically.
The viola's intense declaimed re
ous transition and the reentry of
rated by slashes to indicate "page/
the published score). A four-note
extensively in the transition and
texture thickens as the passage bu
melody in contrary motion, with
transition. The first theme is rec
dramatic high D (d "')-the highest
sequent descending arpeggio. The
of its dominant relationship to th
allelisms with octaves, fifths, and
the key relationships, but the high
move through the subsiding energ
theme, played in the left hand of
ment in the right consisting of th
(see Ex. 2).
The second theme contrasts dra
ial, with hushed dynamics, restra
Unlike the leaps and detached arti
sinuous, sustained, and smooth. T
extended in a lush, singing fashion
loses energy (7/3 and 7/4). Slowin
mark the next dramatic transition.

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 395

Poco meno mosso

P >

langoroso
rubato

Example 2. Viola Sonata, second theme

The development section begins with evocative references to the

opening theme divided between the piano and viola (marked "miste-
rioso"), leading to the introduction of a new, marcato idea (8/2)-a
"New World" theme? It sounds similar to Dvohk's evocation of an
"American Indian"-type sound through the use of accented rhythms,
repeated notes, drones, and parallel fifths (see Ex. 3). From 8/4 through
9/1, the development, dominated by x, crescendos to a climax, using the
fastest rhythms yet in the accompaniment. At 9/1/3, the dynamics drop
suddenly, and a gentle version of x is used in the piano. The viola enters
(9/2/4) with a lyrical variant of the second theme used developmentally.
This phrase is then broken into two-measure units (9/4), as the develop-
ment subsides with fragmentation and loss of energy similar to the end of
the exposition.
The return of the first theme, indicating the recapitulation, is
ghostly, thin, and high in the piano (10/1/4), veiled by the ending of the
viola's lyrical line, and held at a distance, at arm's length-as it were-
by the conflicting harmonies, the floating G-sharp-diminished triad
clashing with the A-E of the rising fifth motive. The earlier power of the
motive is here completely diffused as it returns with a new sense of wist-
fulness (see Ex. 4).
With this hushed, dark transformation of the first theme, a complete
contrast from its initial bold statement, the recapitulation does not
include the cadenzalike passage that, in the exposition, served to qualify
the outspoken first theme. We plunge forward directly into the turbulent
transition, which builds to the return of the second theme, now in a tri-
umphant appassionato version (E major). At this point, unlike the begin-
ning of the recapitulation, we have a strong sense of arrival. Compared to
the exposition, the two themes have exchanged their expressive profiles,
not to mention their instrumental roles. The viola now brings back the
second theme at a forte dynamic and in a high, strident range, while the

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396 The Musical Quarterly

marcato

pp
r ' -

Example 3. Viola Sonata, marcato idea in development

3 molto rit. PP
8 '------ - ----- ---- -------

ppp meno mosso

lontano 3
left hand louder

p p molto rit. ppp meno mosso pp

" ,_ ,_ _-_- '_-

Example 4. Viola Sonata, recapitulation: first theme

piano's accompaniment is richly elaborate an

second theme has thrown off its restraint and n
max (13/2); from there the piece subsides. Th
as a coda at 15/1 is built from the second them
arpeggiating up rather than stepping down, an
viola's final interval of a sixth and the surround
gentle and warm.

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 397

2 A tempo

ff molto allarg. f appassionato 5

qO con calore

IL'i I '[]~a I lJli l[Il''" ll i | li

Example 5. Viol

Such an ana
versial road
adjectives fo
neither on t
render it m
others. It al
tural meani
certain audience and set of cultural referents in mind.

A Coded Sonata-Form Analysis

Descriptions of the two main themes in sonata form as having masculine

and feminine characteristics are part of the late-nineteenth-century con-
ceptualization of this important form. This understanding of the form
may have contributed to Clarke's musical consciousness as well; thus, its
possible relevance deserves exploration. Let us begin by summarizing this
notion of a gendered interpretation of sonata form, drawing on the work

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398 The Musical Quarterly

of its two most distinguished proponents, Marcia Citron and Susan

McClary. Citron provides a detailed survey of the theoretical origins of
gendered sonata form, citing five examples between 1826 and 1955.
Three of these are relevant to the present discussion: Die Lehre von der
musikalischen Komposition (1845), by A. B. Marx, who is the earliest and
best-known theorist to use a metaphor of gender in describing the first
and second themes of sonata form;S Hugo Riemann's 1888 Katechismus
der Musik (Allgemeine Musiklehre); and Vincent D'Indy's Cours de compo-
sition musicale (1909), where an extensive discussion of sonata form is
based on the concept of gendered conflict.
The vocabulary of these theorists, who identify themes as "mascu-
line" and "feminine" according to characteristics in thematic content,
provides the starting point for Citron's and McClary's theory of coded
sonata form. For instance, Marx describes the "masculine" first theme of
sonata form as "decisive," "the one constructed more energetically, more
vigorously, more completely," while the "subsidiary" "feminine" second
theme is gentler.6 Riemann also describes a "strong," masculine first
theme, and a "lyrical, gentle," feminine second theme.
D'Indy's discussion is much more extensive, depicting sonata form
as a stage for an essentialized conflict between the sexes, in which the
dynamism of binary oppositions propels itself to a climactic scene of
coercion or force:

Force and energy, concision and clarity: such are almost [in]variably the
essential masculine characteristics belonging to the first idea...

The second idea, in contrast, entirely gentle and of melodic grace, is...
eminently alluring feminine ... [A]fter the active battle of the develop-
ment, the being of gentleness and weakness has to submit, whether by
violence or by persuasion, to the conquest of the being of force and
power.7

This scenario of physical oppression and submission presented by D'Indy

is central to McClary's and Citron's concept of coded sonata form. Cit-
ron sees the codes as widely present and influentials and extends the
masculine and feminine identity of the themes, with their contrasting
contours, to their associated keys. The tonic is the masculine domain,
while departures from this key can be seen as threats by the disruptive,
feminine Other. The tonic must emerge as victor in this violent narra-
tive process (Citron, 140). Marx notes the softening of the contrast of
the two themes in the recapitulation, as the second theme takes on the
tonality of the first; Citron describes this as "a taming of the disruptive
Other" (135).

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 399

Citron's discussion of sonata form culminates in an analysis of the

Sonata for Piano by C~cile Chaminade. Citron finds that the work conveys
an alternative to the conventional sonata narrative--Chaminade, as a
woman, resists the conventional procedure of oppressing her second theme
(145-59).
McClary relies less on the historical theorists and more on literary
theories of narrative and the vocabulary of liberation politics as the basis
for her explanation of coded sonata form. The formal consistencies
within the genre define the paradigm, the norm that is read as a reflec-
tion of societal values. A composer's treatment of the form attests to that
composer's relationship with society as a whole: "No sooner had tonal or
sonata conventions crystallized than composers began rebelling against
their constraints; if these paradigms continued to underwrite composi-
tion and interpretation, they also provided the terms for resistance."9
But McClary echoes D'Indy in her construction of sonata form as a
drama of potential violence: "Other keys must be purged-sometimes
violently-if the composition is to end satisfactorily."o10

This understanding of the contrasting themes of sonata form sometimes

serving as a coded representation of the contrast of "masculine" and
"feminine" was undeniably a presence in the late nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries, when Rebecca Clarke received her training and
musical education. Further, she was conversant with the mainstream
repertory of the Germanic tradition from which theorists such as Marx
and Riemann drew their understanding of music. These factors empha-
size the relevance of the consideration of coded sonata form in Clarke's
music. And, as Citron asserts in the case of Chaminade, Clarke, as a
woman, may have wished to go against the conventions of the form as
employed by her male contemporaries.

The poetic inscription that heads the Viola Sonata alerts us to the pres-
ence of gendered meanings: "Porte, prends ton luth; le vin de la jeunesse/
Fermente cette nuit dans les veines de Dieu."11 The quote, from Alfred
de Musset's "La nuit de mai," already invokes a stance that is coded femi-
nine. The creative force of a poet was seen as a feminine one, in its
reliance on intuition, in contrast with that of the philosopher, who
would rely on reason, coded as a masculine force.12 Clarke's use of this
couplet might be seen as a conscious indicator of her own transgressive
status.13
And indeed the first movement of Clarke's Sonata for Viola and Piano
can be read as a work that demonstrates a woman composer choosing to
subvert the codes and resist the violent, oppressive conventions of sonata

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400 The Musical Quarterly

form. The opening gesture, with its martial quality, is clearly masculine;
the dotted figure is one of D'Indy's "brusque rhythms." The cadenza that
follows is the first subversive gesture of the sonata, immediately qualify-
ing and questioning the assertive identity put forth by the preceding
statement.

The feminine characteristics of the second theme are ob

hushed dynamics, restrained range, and chromatic content
demonstrate a stereotypical identity.14 Unlike the leaps and
articulation of the first theme, this idea is sinuous, sustaine
smooth; "the curve of its ornamented melody" and its "lyri
qualities, named by the theorists, are demonstrated here.
Continuing our interpretation of the piece as subversion
codes of sonata form, we can note two things about the de
McClary states that conventionally, the end of the develop
event of power and even violence, as the masculine first th
comes its obstacles and returns more forcefully than ever, reas
tonic domain.15 In Clarke's sonata, the climactic moment o
occurs not at the end, as is typical in the codified paradigm
form, but rather in the middle. Here this high point is interru
gentle versions of both the x idea derived from the first them
chromatic second theme. Then, at the recapitulation, the
line power of the first theme is transformed, as it returns wit
ambiguity, not as a heavy-handed reassertion of the tonic
The cadenza of the exposition now may be retrospectivel
stood as having displayed this latent reflective quality, the "we
is manifested by this pale, otherworldly return just at the poin
vention would dictate a victorious assertion. Thus, the cade
purpose in the recapitulation, and we plunge forward into the
transition. From this point, the music builds to the return of
theme, no longer gentle, but rather triumphal. Here, unlike th
of the recapitulation, we have a strong sense of arrival (see
The feminine theme has thrown off its restraint and no
its own climax (13/2); from there the piece subsides. In ano
ture from the paradigm, the new material introduced as a c
from the second theme, and the ending is a gentle feminin
the viola's final interval of a sixth and the surrounding har
gios invoking the sentimental.

Supplementing rather than contradicting my earlier analys

dered reading offers vivid illustrations to certain points of
Without questioning the validity of applying the coded mo
form to Clarke's work, the gendered aspects of the analysis

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 401

ing and polemical; they seem to challenge us to contradict them and in

a way, they may indeed lead us into a deeper relationship with the
piece.
The anthropomorphizing of themes as masculine and feminine cer-
tainly can enliven an analysis, but the results remain a completely indi-
vidual reading. Any number of other interpretations encoding different
gender stereotypes or narrative perspectives could be made with equal
validity. One contradiction of my gendered analysis is apparent in look-
ing at the rest of the work. Clarke subverts the codes, I claimed, by hav-
ing a variant of the feminine second theme end the movement. Does
Clarke then subvert her subversion by recalling the masculine first
theme, both the fifth leaps and x, to conclude the piece as a whole (40/3
to end)? (See Ex. 6.) Must this be seen as the unavoidable feminine sub-
mission to the return of the dominating masculine force? Applying this
coded gender identity to the themes leaves us little alternative to such
an interpretation.
Here the limits of the notion of coded sonata form come into sharp
relief. I find it difficult to hear the work's conclusion as some nightmar-
ish flashback with the return of the now-victorious oppressive aggressor.
Nor have I found any historical or contextual evidence for such a view.
Neither the theoretical sources nor the modern practitioners of coded
sonata form offer any explanation for the common formal practice of
linking movements.
The concluding recall of this first theme strikes me as a jubilant
invocation of a restored idea of vigor and energy. Consideration of the
individual themes and melodic ideas needs to take place in the context
of the work as a whole.
My point is not that the particular gendered narrative I have pro-
posed contains flaws, nor that the very existence of the conventions of a
coded "crystallized"16 sonata form is highly debatable. I would like to
observe that recent analyses based on a view of the themes of sonata form
as gendered superimpose an interpretation onto a piece, privileging that
view over how the work may have been understood by the composer and
by performers, audiences, and critics of the time. For each era, each com-
poser, and even each piece, evidence concerning the relationship of gen-
der and musical style needs to be painstakingly sought out and considered.

Knowing more about Clarke's life will help to contextualize our exami-
nation of her use of sonata form. (Several published accounts can be sug-
gested for those desiring more detail.)17 An Anglo-American composer,
Clarke was born to an American father and a German mother in Harrow,
England (near London), in 1886. Her training was thoroughly English:

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402 The Musical Quarterly

3 t
3~ 3 Piumosso

r , ,, ., . i

Sf animando

:f animando

Example 6. Viola Sonata, third (final) movement, last section

she studied at the Royal Academy of Music, and at the Roy

Music she was Sir Charles Villiers Stanford's first woman pupil
tion. But Clarke's ties with the United States were important t
her life. In one interview she states that she actually began com
her first visit to the United States. This was in 1905-6, when s
alone to Boston, stayed with the William James family, and m
of her father's relatives.s18 Both of Clarke's brothers settled in
States and often provided a base for her visits. In 1916 she left

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 403

an extended period of touring and concertizing that would last through

1923. While these years included her tour around the world (1922-23)
with the cellist May Mukle, they also encompassed extended sojourns in
Hawaii, Detroit, Rochester, and New York City, as well as participation in
at least four of the Berkshire Festivals of Chamber Music sponsored by Eliz-
abeth Sprague Coolidge (discussed further below). In 1924 Clarke returned
to London, where she was based until World War II. She then returned to
the United States, and in 1944 she married the pianist James Friskin, who
had been a fellow student at the Royal College. She settled with him in
New York City, where she lived until her death in 1979, at age ninety-three.
Before further examining Clarke's individual circumstances, I would
like to give consideration to some terms of gender whose definitions are
fluid. What did it mean to be a woman in English or American experi-
ence circa 1920? How might the shifting concepts of "masculine" and
"feminine" have been seen by Clarke and by her contemporaries? We
need only remind ourselves briefly how widespread late-nineteenth-
century adherence to theories of social Darwinism remained in the early
twentieth century. In order to affirm the doctrine of separate spheres for
men and women, influential doctors and scientists promulgated crude
interpretations of Darwin's theories. Woman's alleged intellectual inferi-
ority was the result of her reproductive specialization, and her capacity to
nurture and serve was necessary for the survival of the human race. Fur-
thermore, pseudoscientific research, which linked mental and physical
ability, declared that woman could learn, but as she had been "proved"
mentally inferior as well as physically weaker, education might be stressful
to her physical constitution, and in particular her reproductive system.
Thus discussions and debates concemrning the education of women and
the nature of woman remained highly charged during these years.19
On the other hand, Clarke had access to opportunities that had been
forged by the older generation of women's rights activists. The greatest
achievements of Clarke as a composer, her Viola Sonata (1919) and her
Piano Trio (1921), might be seen as paralleling the monumental achieve-
ment of women's finally earning suffrage.20 Yet the force of her Victorian
upbringing and its attendant ideologies was such that Clarke often felt
hesitant, embarrassed, or self-conscious about taking advantage of those
opportunities. This general problem is described by Sara Evans: "As
women broke out of the strictures of Victorian morality, their experience
of a female community diminished and they lost the conviction of a com-
mon female mission. At work, in the home, or in politics women were on
their own, individuals yet still defined and limited by their gender."21
For instance, Clarke recalled trying to slink inconspicuously into her seat
when she was one of the first women to play professionally in an orchestra in

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404 The Musical Quarterly

1912.22 Later she felt it would be "silly" or "idiotic" to have her name
listed as a composer more than once in a program, so she invented the
pseudonym "Anthony Trent" for her piece "Morpheus" (1917). Figure 1
documents the 13 February 1918 premiere of "Morpheus."23 Of course
many restrictions upon women remained. Clarke, for instance, never
conducted an orchestra, an experience that was considered essential by
her male composer contemporaries. In her personal life, Clarke took on
the domestic responsibilities that were assumed to be those of a "spin-
ster" daughter, and thus cared for her aging mother; the burden of such a
duty would be one element limiting her professional life.24 Figure 2, from
around 1917, shows Clarke posed in a characteristically feminine man-
ner, her downturned face suggesting a demureness and even passivity
that would be unlikely to be conveyed in a portrait of a male subject.25
Clarke's understanding of and response to ideologies of gender
shaped her compositional output and perhaps even her musical style.
But we need to muster evidence from a historically grounded perspective
in order to comprehend fully the role of gender in Clarke's music.

I would like to examine three issues concerning sonata form and Clarke's
music in general: how the origins of Clarke's Viola Sonata suggest her
understanding of this form and its particular functions, traditions, and
associations (Clarke employed this form rarely, and thus the context of
its use tells us much); the views of music theorists whose work Clarke
would have known, including those of her composition teacher, Sir
Charles Villiers Stanford; and ways in which reviews of performances of
Clarke's music indicate expectations based on gender among critics of
the time. I propose that this examination of the specific context of
Clarke's Sonata and its reception will offer a promising direction for
understanding the work and Clarke's notion of its form.

Music for the Coolidge Competitions

Rebecca Clarke became acquainted with the great music patron Eliza-
beth Sprague Coolidge in 1917, when both summered near Pittsfield,
Massachusetts. In 1918, Clarke attended the first Berkshire Festival of
Chamber Music, and Coolidge encouraged her to enter the composition
competition for the following year, which was to feature the viola.26 This
competition represented an unusual situation for Clarke, in comparison
with her broader compositional activity and output.
In the context of her musical output as a whole, Clarke's use of
sonata form is also unusual, and the fact that her only two mature works

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 itlad ~~ ~ :: s thne Mt ay
'tel?tedkttt e gav

arahflaeanfrpa tea Al

ted 1 Ptalt.tade

any ,e. "M etaend ran

It anAl Atyaanatttt tank

ic j
trcyttdir ha dt aecueaaia
henn nedteelnara teey et .1

Figure 1. Scrapbook page, 1918. Courtesy of Heidi Schultz, niece o

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406 The Musical Quarterly

iii?ii-:iiiii:iii

:i-i-i:i i:-? -iii iii:iiii

::i:::i;

-:-::::::

I:i:::::li''8
:? :?: ::: :: ::::-:::::::::::i::i:::-:-:::::-::: :i:-:::::::: ?
:- :_: .. .- --:---::i:?:::
::::::::::::::::::
::-: i:: .: _:: .' : :
:~:::::::j:::::::::: :
:::-:-

.: ::

.i--i::

-:.:.:--

Figure 2. Clarke, ca. 1917. Courtesy of Christopher Johnson and the Clarke estate

in sonata form are the products of the only two competitions that she
would participate in during her life demands our attention. I propose
that the authority of a patron, together with the institutional event of a
competition, served to authorize, perhaps even compel Clarke to write
large-scale, multimovement works employing sonata form.27

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 407

Clarke's total musical output (fifty-two songs, eleven choral pieces,

and twenty-two chamber pieces for various instrumental ensembles) rep-
resents, to a great extent, composition carried out within a private circle.
She wrote music that she would perform herself or that her friends or fam-
ily would perform.28 Although she and her associates were talented profes-
sional musicians who regularly performed in public concert halls, Clarke's
predominant choice of genres reflects a feeling of intimacy. Her output is
dominated by songs-mostly individual songs, not cycles-and single-
movement chamber works, almost all with picturesque titles. While these
instrumental movements are sometimes grouped together to form larger
works (e.g., Two Movements for Viola and Violoncello: Lullaby and
Grotesque, 1916, published by Oxford University Press in 1930; or the
Prelude, Allegro, and Pastorale, for Viola and Clarinet, 1941, unpub-
lished), the pieces in these groupings have no obvious motivic or struc-
tural connections with each other.
In this context, the works written for Coolidge's competitions-the
Viola Sonata (1919) and the Piano Trio (1921)-are distinct in Clarke's
output. They are among her longest compositions, and together with the
early Violin Sonata (three movements) of ca. 1909, they are her only
multimovement works of absolute music. In fact, the four pieces in
which Clarke employs sonata form-the single-movement Sonata for
Violin and Piano of ca. 1907-9, the Violin Sonata of ca. 1909, the Viola
Sonata, and the Piano Trio-can all be seen as examples of Clarke's
adopting a large-scale, recognized absolute form as a way of giving voice
to a public type of utterance. The Viola Sonata and Piano Trio were
written as entries in Coolidge's open and well-publicized competitions,
and the two early violin works as well were composed for a competitive
function: they were juried by Royal College of Music faculty, and the
work of 1909 was performed in a College exhibition.29 And while
Coolidge, on the one hand, was a friend of Clarke's, she also represented
authority. She was, like Clarke's teacher, Stanford, a figure to look up to:
older, independent and self-possessed. Thus, to impress authority and to
present herself competitively, Clarke adopted a genre and form that were
unusual for her but that evoked a bold, authoritative stance.
This is in no way to minimize the artistic worth of Clarke's other
output. Instrumental works like "Morpheus" or "Epilogue" are serious
lengthy pieces, both dark and passionate in nature (see Exx. 12 and
13).30 But in writing for a competition and at Coolidge's request, Clarke
felt the need to create something more monumental. She needed a genre
that would be itself considered impressive and within which she could
project a voice of authority.31
The Viola Sonata, the Piano Trio, and the 1908 Violin Sonata are
unique in Clarke's output in employing a commanding, powerful stance

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408 The Musical Quarterly

from the outset: they are her only instrumental works to begin with loud
dynamics. The opening of the Viola Sonata was described above as being
like a trumpet call-a bold, striking gesture. The Piano Trio's fortissimo
opening is jarring in its dissonant aggressiveness, with the parallel minor-
seventh motion in the piano (see Ex. 7). Similarly, the single-movement
Violin Sonata begins with vigorous, assertive, forte violin quadruple-
stops (see Ex. 8). These beginnings are quite unlike those of any in
Clarke's other output (Exx. 9-16 are representative). While the remain-
der of her instrumental music demonstrates a wide emotional and tech-
nical range, with opening gestures ranging from bright and lyrical to
dark and pensive, these three pieces are the only ones to begin in a loud,
aggressive way. The Violin Sonata (three movements, ca. 1909) begins
with a calming simplicity, suggesting that Clarke did not see sonata form
as strictly prescribing an assertive approach, but rather that this com-
manding approach was most convincingly employed with sonata form.
I am proposing that, for Clarke, the sonata as a genre (with sonata
form as a necessary component of a multimovement sonata) was seen as
a masculine domain and thus for her basically a foreign one. She felt it
necessary to employ the genre in order to be perceived as authoritative
in writing for competitions and felt that this genre would be the most
suitable one in which to use a musical vocabulary that would be recog-
nized as impressive and commanding. This observation is one I will
expand upon further in my concluding paragraphs.

Stanford and Other British Theorists

Clarke studied composition with Sir Charles Villiers Stanford at the Royal
College of Music from the fall of 1907 through the spring of 1910. Stan-
ford was known as a difficult, intimidating teacher,32 but he seems always
to have treated Clarke in a kindly and respectful manner. Clarke looked
up to him as a benevolent father figure (in contrast to her own malevolent
father), and her memoir reports in detail many instances of his praising
her and otherwise showing approval. In short, Stanford and his teachings
(he was her only formal composition teacher) must have had a great influ-
ence on Clarke's musical consciousness, and his book, Musical Composi-
tion: A Short Treatise for Students (London: Macmillan, 1911), represents
these teachings. This manual is a logical source for anyone seeking to
explore Clarke's understanding of sonata form. Several other theorists
whose work Clarke encountered as a student will also be mentioned.
Stanford's discussion of sonata form does not employ the concept of
gendered themes or overtly raise any issue of gender. His prescription to

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 409

Moderato ma appassionato

Violin .. _ ._,. ,., 4--->

..3 if

Violoncello

I i - I I '
8va

L .. 6 L . 6 - r

Piano i ,,
con 8

1, " . , K.-- -, -, - o
I __
F6 I - -
_____________

)3 3 3Ji ii 3 ad lib.

con 8

(8V aL. -- -

0ifS

,o Kj

Example 7. Trio for Violin, Cello, and Piano, 1921. Copyright ? 1928 by Hawkes & Son (London)
Ltd., Copyright Renewed. Reprinted by Permission of Boosey & Hawkes, Inc.

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410 The Musical Quarterly

pa
f pesante

Example 8. Violin Sonata (one movement only), ca. 1

Christopher Johnson and the estate of Rebecca Clarke

Allegro comodo p

legato semplice

p sempre p

Example 9.

learn con
than any
write a m
ure, exac
composer
must be
The mod
Sonata, o
the whol
their plac
ious elem
and so fo
rules he

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 411

con sordino

Simply and monotonously

i p una corda

Example 10. "Lullaby (An Arrangement of an ancient Irish t

lished)

ritenuto a tempo

I ,,I I ' ! "

Example 11

"Make the
tinct in st
general ch
within th

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412 The Musical Quarterly

Ben moderato

F F I F IFI J'
con sordino

1 sempre
p ser IprI

I;" b~, ("j i q" J " "" .

Example 12. "Morpheus," viola and piano, 1917 (unpublished)

Lento

p p qairc3
quasi -ta ..o
recitativo 3 p

Example 13. "Epilogue," cello and piano, 1921 (unpublished)

from the simple notion of juxtaposing the two main themes, as found in t
coded theory of sonata form. His qualification of the contrast of the two
themes is something found in the writings of other theorists who may ha
influenced Clarke. For instance, Ebenezer Prout, a theorist mentioned in
Clarke's memoir, emphasizes continuity (as well as contrast) of the themes
"the second subject is mostly constructed of entirely different thematic
material from the first; at the same time the contrast must not be too vio-
lent; the second subject ought rather to be like a continuation of the train o
thought of the first."33 In both Prout's and Stanford's discussion, contrast is
be contained within boundaries.
Of course, Stanford's treatment of the form could be viewed as a
perpetuation of the codes simply through the use of a model based on
those codes,34 but had Stanford's intent been to convey an element o
conflict or struggle within the sonata, he could have made that clear.

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 413

Adagio -3 1-

V 3

pP

- - 2 ' .v-I=,
I Pp'_ EI J
bbo,'F\"'
rT | . ..
Example 14. "Poem," string qu

Molto lento ppp3 3

)K f pp sempre

p9 3

Example 15. "Rhapsody," cello

Instead, his emphasis is

points out ways that th
the first theme and the t

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414 The Musical Quarterly

Andante semplice 3

Bb Clarinet o .
Viola
- - .. . .. . -,_,- i -,,.-

33 I

dim. poco rit

(1 dm poco rit.
Example 16. "Prelude" from Prelude, Allegro, and Pastorale, viola and clarinet, 1941 (unpublished)

Stewart MacPherson was a prolific music theorist and taught for

many years at the Royal Academy of Music. It is not known whether or
not Clarke worked with him personally while she studied at the Academy
(1903-5), but she mentions the influence of his teaching in her memoir.
Unlike Stanford, MacPherson employs the metaphor of narrative in dis-
cussing sonata form, comparing it to "a story or play." But he does not use
gender-specific pronouns in describing the themes or "main characters,"
and in fact he is explicit in stating that the principal theme could be
understood as male or female, a "hero or heroine." "[T]he principal
themes-the main characters of the composer's story-are shewn to us
under constantly varying aspects and in ever-changing moods and forms
of expression. If, therefore, we grasp these themes securely at the outset,
the following of a Sonata-movement may become every whit as interest-
ing and fascinating as the tracing of the fortunes of hero or heroine in
the drama or novel."35 We can note MacPherson's emphasis of the depth
and subtle variety of the nature of these themes. His concept of the form
is far from the straightforward binarism of opposition.
Elsewhere MacPherson employs a different metaphor, that of the argu-
ment or rhetorical structure, for explaining sonata form: "[The] development
section may be compared to a closely-reasoned argument in which the origi-

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 415

nal propositions are gradually elaborated on a logical and convincing plan."36

This view stresses that the notion of a drama or narrative with themes as
characters was only one of many ways of thinking about sonata form.
The preceding examples demonstrate that the circle of theorists
who would have had the most direct influence upon Clarke do not seem
to have been at all influenced by the gendered description of sonata form
presented by Marx, Riemann, and D'Indy.
Elsewhere in Stanford's Musical Composition, we find valorization of
unity in music and emphasis on the biological metaphor of evolution, a
manifestation of social Darwinism. In describing the theme from the bal-
let The Men of Prometheus (as Stanford calls it) by Beethoven, he refers
to the first phrase as the "husband," the second phrase as the "wife," and
the following phrases as "children." Stanford does not employ the terms
"husband" and "wife" as representatives of gendered features or as part of
a discussion of masculine and feminine roles or characteristics. Rather,
the first two phrases complement each other, containing both contrast-
ing material and material that builds on that of the other. He sees these
elements as part of a "natural development and evolution," and the chil-
dren are the expected outcome of the blending of features from both par-
ents. Rather than a binarism of opposition, his explanation demonstrates
the influence of concepts of organicism and evolution widely employed
in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.37
We might expect that the evocation of a programmatic title, The
Creatures of Prometheus, or his mention of husband, wife, and children
would suggest some type of narrative or psychological interpretation.
Stanford provides nothing of the kind. Instead, he is simply interested in
how the phrases demonstrate their interrelationship through the pres-
ence of shared material. It might be suggested that Stanford views the
"wife" as subsidiary in that it follows the "husband," but he does not
include adjectives employed by Marx and Riemann to describe their
feminine themes: "subsidiary," "gentler," or "lyrical." Stanford evokes the
family as an entity that demonstrates organicism, a unity within which
each individual element has its specific role and function. The charac-
teristics of these individual elements matter less than that each has some
relationship to the other and is in its appropriate place.
Stanford develops his metaphor of the family no further in Musical
Composition, and as one continues to read it comes to lose its remarkable
quality, since it is but one of a great many organic metaphors that he
sounds. A few samples follow:

A piece of music has to breathe like a human being; the rests are breath-
ing places. (9)

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416 The Musical Quarterly

If melody is the life-blood of music, rhythm is the heart-beat or pulse

which drives it. (23)

Tone colour . ., is the dress in which we clothe the flesh and bones which
constitute the living body of music. (95)

Like his colleague Sir Hubert Parry, who directed the student orches-
tra in which Clarke played, Stanford believed that a work of art is the
product of a logical evolutionary process, dependent upon hard work and
study within established traditions.38 I will return to consider further the
teachings of Stanford and some of his British contemporaries at the close
of this essay. For now, two points can be summarized: the absence of gen-
dered language or the notion of conflict or juxtaposition in Stanford's
discussion of sonata form, and the prevalence of metaphors for organi-
cism in emphasizing the concept of unity.

Reviewers of Clarke's Music

In light of the heated debates surrounding the capability and status of

women that took place in the first decades of the century, we should ex-
pect that women who composed music would be subject to publicity. I
would like to examine some of the preconceptions that critics exhibited
about Clarke's musical creations. Items 1-5 are in response to an all-
Clarke concert given in London's Wigmore Hall on 21 October 1925, an
item 6 is in response to the publication of Clarke's Violin Sonata in 1921

1. "Miss Clarke is fully the equal of several of the known young

men of music. She launched out on her piano trio in a spacious
way and carried the enterprise through without flagging." (Daily
Mail, Oct. 1925)
2. "[T]he concert of Rebecca Clarke's compositions . . . left me
with the impression of remarkable alertness and quite masculine
vigour." (Musical News and Herald, 31 Oct. 1925)
3. "Women composers usually write songs well, and with one or tw
outstanding exceptions do little else. Rebecca Clarke reverses the
process. Her instrumental compositions are full of music and
poetry of thought expressed with real technique and intellectual
control." (Special from Monitor Bureau, London, 30 Oct. [1925])
4. "A WOMAN COMPOSER-Miss Rebecca Clarke at the Wigmore Ha
"How remarkable it is that our women composers are so
much more virile in style than some of our young men. Miss
Rebecca Clarke, from whom we had an evening's music last
night at the Wigmore Hall, has a strong right arm. (We speak

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 417

figuratively, of course.) She can lay down the foundation of a big

chamber work like her piano trio heard last night, with all the
emphasis of a Liszt and carry on with the sturdiness of a John
Ireland or Frank Bridge.
"Naturally she knows the methods of all of these composers
and of others, but being still quite young, she has not quite
assimilated all their impressions." (Star, 22 Oct. 1925)

5. "A Woman Composer

"Rebecca Clark [sic], whose recital of compositions.. . took
place at Wigmore Hall, is as all women composers, largely reflec-
tive of preceding masculine creations. She has, however, real
feminine personality in such things as her 'Lullaby' for piano and
viola, and a truly feminine bent towards the grotesque and intri-
cate in 'Grotesque' and 'Chinese Puzzle.'" (Cardiff Western Mail,
24 Oct. 1925)

6. "[The viola sonata's] concluding Adagio-Tchaikovsky has justi-

fied the ending of a work in the sonata form with an Adagio-is
no gentle, tender thing of plaints and sighs; but its expressive
melody is a virile one and the 'wine of youth' gestating in its
development urges it on into an Allegro of the most spirited
kind, whose culminating point is the Quasi fantasia section on
the last page, before the transitions lead ever to the final broad-
ening out of the close in pregnant chords and a single ff E in the
bass." (Chicago newspaper [clipping lacks title]; publication
review of the Viola Sonata, ca. 1921-22 [file in possession of
Clarke estate]; emphasis in boldface added)

These reviews offer many insights into the intellectual and cultural
climate that Clarke faced as a woman. One recurring theme is the double
bind, based on a definition of femininity that served to keep women on
the periphery of creative activity. As Judith Tick has explained, when
women composed in the smaller genres, they were (by inverse logic)
demonstrating their inadequacy and inability to write in the larger forms.
But when they wrote in the larger forms, they were allegedly forsaking
their identities as women and were attempting to be men, writing "man-
tone" music, and, as one critic said, "seeking after virility."39 A paper given
at the Royal Musical Association in 1920 reinforces the same ideology.
The author states that women's mind is receptive, not creative, and that a
woman who goes beyond the acceptable feminine sphere "insults her own
sex."40 Thus the traditional double bind remains a factor of importance.
Pervasive among the critics of Clarke's sonata is a sense of wonder
at the exceptional nature of a woman acting outside of the realm of

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418 The Musical Quarterly

orthodox "feminine" behavior. Several of the reviews remark on the

virility or typically "masculine" features of Clarke's work. Items 1 and 2
above emphasize that stamina and vigor were not considered typical
feminine characteristics of the time. Similarly, item 4 demonstrates that
a woman who exercised mental stamina by taking on a challenging
intellectual activity contradicted the codes of behavior for women. This
reviewer suggests that the compliment paid to the strength of Clarke's
creative work casts her femininity into question. Thus, the writer finds
it necessary to qualify the remark-humorously, of course-so as to
emphasize that if Clarke is unladylike in her creative efforts, at least she
is still within the bounds of physical appropriateness for a lady.
Item 5 emphasizes that in writing outside of the "feminine" musical
sphere, Clarke is seen as imitating masculine models. Only in the
smaller works is it possible to view her as conveying her "real feminine
personality." Item 4 also sees Clarke as attempting to assimilate male
models. This review qualifies its compliments with a patronizing attribu-
tion of the perceived weakness of Clarke's work to her "still being quite
young." Clarke was thirty-nine at the time.
Item 3 is explicit in its statement that Clarke reverses the usual
expectations for women-her strength is in her instrumental music and
not her songs. Here we can note that Clarke's teacher, Stanford, writes
condescendingly of the song genre. He does not call it an easy medium,
but says it is useful for developing control of detail, and ability at
"expressing small and dainty ideas." "To write a good melody or theme in
absolute music by the suggestion of music itself will be doubly and trebly
more difficult when the crutches of suggestive poetry are not there to lean
on. The wisest plan is to keep song writing to an occasional amuse-
ment."41 Thus, men were expected to have facility at what might be
seen as a feminine sphere but to then go beyond it, to the "more difficult"
and thus more exalted genres of "absolute music." Surprise was expressed
at a woman exceeding that sphere; the genre of "occasional amusement"
was her appropriate place.
As previously mentioned, one of the widely held stereotypes
about women of this era was their "daintiness," their lack of stamina,
both physical and mental, and the idea that young women could be
physically damaged-particularly in the development of their repro-
ductive systems-by overexertion, both mental and physical. Hence
the wide-ranging debates about the extent to which education should
be available to women continued in these years. While women did
make some progress in the professional sphere in England at this time,
adherence to pseudoscientifically supported stereotypes constrained
their progress.42 Two examples relating to Clarke's life can be men-

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 419

tioned. Clarke was one of six women allowed by Sir Henry Wood into
his Queen's Hall Orchestra in 1912. Nevertheless, Wood maintained
their exclusion from the summer Proms orchestra, believing that the
demands of playing every day for ten weeks would be too taxing.43
Similarly, students at the Royal Academy of Music were given four
three-hour exams at the end of each academic year. Men took the
exams in two days, but women took them spread out over four days, so
they would not be overexerted.44
The same belief-that women's intellectual as well as physical
abilities were limited-is emphasized in some reviews of Clarke's music.
Thus, in item 1, the writer exudes a sense of wonder that Clarke is able
to carry out her trio "without flagging"-the wonder is simply that
Clarke is running in a man's race, and the physical exertion that he
evokes suggests an image of Clarke's body, a female body, miraculously
able to keep up. This condescension, completely avoiding any issue of
content of the musical work, would never be applied to a man's work.
Item 6 contains the most startling use of gendered language in its
description of Clarke's sonata: "virility," followed by "gestation" and
"pregnancy." In this example the themes are purported to illustrate the
female creative body, emphasizing women's (and Clarke's) "true" cre-
ative task. While giving birth was a widespread metaphor for male cre-
ativity,45 this act of associating particular aspects of procreativity with
specific musical passages (the virile melody, the gestating development,
the pregnant chords) is unusually vivid, and again the image of the
female body is evoked.
Christine Battersby explains that this emphasis on female physical-
ity keeps woman rooted in the mundane, while the sphere of creativity,
that of true genius, transcends the mere physical. Woman is not allowed
to become this abstracted artist; her physicality, her mere humanness,
and thus her nongenius status are constantly being foregrounded.46

These reviews of Clarke's Viola Sonata lend support to the notion that
the multimovement sonata form was perceived as a masculine domain.
Clarke temporarily stepped out of the confines of the expectations of her
sex and appropriated the male sphere.47 Her action in this foreign domain
was a success-the Viola Sonata and the Piano Trio are completely con-
vincing, truly great works in the realm of absolute music-but one she
found personally uncomfortable. I believe this is why she chose not to
continue to write in the genre. Clarke's femininity was an important part
of her identity and not something she cared to sacrifice. The biased
reception that her music received, with numerous critics imposing the
double bind by marveling on the novelty of a woman composer rather

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420 The Musical Quarterly

than assessing the value of her work, may have discouraged her and con-
tributed to the gradual decline in quantity of her compositional output
from the mid-1920s through the 1930s.48 Clarke was never politically
outspoken, and she did not care to struggle or crusade for unblinking
acceptance of her identity as a composer. Ultimately, she wrote more
songs (the genre most acceptable for women) than any other type of
work, and her impulse to compose was silent for long periods in her life.

Gender, Genre, and Sonata Form

For Rebecca Clarke, sonata form represented a monumentality of

achievement that was gendered male, part of the masculine sphere of
power, control, and genius. No detail has been found in Clarke's life to
suggest that she perceived the themes in sonata form as representing
gendered characters.
To understand the sonata as a masculine genre is very different from
gendering the individual themes of sonata form and seeing the develop-
mental process as a manifestation of conflict between them, as in the
writings of Citron, McClary, and others.49 Citron does discuss sonata
form as a masculine genre in her chapter, "Music as Gendered Dis-
course"; she notes hierarchies of genres, with the large, abstract, and
highly valued identified as male, and the small and private seen as femi-
nine and less valued. Thus the sonata genre is identified as a masculine
sphere, and she notes other women composers' discomfort with it.50 But
she blurs this concept of genre together with that of identifying the indi-
vidual themes of sonata form as gendered characters. While much of her
discussion is valuable, my purpose here is to emphasize the distinction of
these very different roles of gender.
I am urging that the different strands of this discussion of sonata
form must be carefully separated. A work as a whole representing a genre
that is conceived as masculine ought not to be confused with the identi-
fication of individual themes as characters that are viewed within the
context of stereotypical gender roles.
In Clarke's Viola Sonata and Piano Trio, assertive, bold gestures are
prominent in the beginning and ending of the works, but it is not neces-
sary to identify and label these themes as male characters or roles. The
display of what may be perceived by some as masculine features in a
theme does not mean that we need to define that theme as a "male"
character, capable only of a narrow range of stereotypically masculine
expression and demonstrating some extraordinary gendered or sexualized
conflict if it is expressive beyond that range. Thus, in the recapitulation

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 421

of the first movement of Clarke's sonata, we do not need to wonder if

our initial theme has been somehow emasculated or subdued. Clarke
wanted the work to have a commanding, authoritative opening; in the
recapitulation the original theme expresses a different range of emotions,
giving great depth to this movement. The sonata as a masculine sphere
invites bold gestures, but it also permits a breadth of expressive vocabu-
lary within its expansive framework.
The significance and context of the theoretical sources of gendered
sonata form is in need of further recognition. Scott Burnham's recent
excellent article considers A. B. Marx's oft-quoted remarks on masculine
and feminine themes within their context as part of a lengthy theory of
sonata form.51 As Burnham points out, Marx's statement gendering the
themes metaphorically is immediately qualified: he emphasizes that the
two themes are joined together as part of a larger whole and that
together they form a higher unity (165). Burnham points out that
"Marx's metaphor of gendered themes is a poetic attempt to address this
complexity" of the relationship of the themes. Burnham further notes
that as early as the late nineteenth century, theorists extracted the com-
ment on gender from Marx's larger work, but to base a reading of sonata
form "on terms of power and suppression is foreign to Marx's use of the
metaphor and his understanding of the form" (185).
While Marx indisputably made the metaphor of gender a familiar one,
it is D'Indy who coined the notion of a drama of violence and submission
between the masculine and feminine lead players that is found in the cur-
rent theory of coded sonata form. But in his own lifetime, it appears that
D'Indy received little notice as a theorist beyond his circle of devotees.52

The gendered metaphor is employed by some theorists as just that-a

metaphor, one means of vividly describing and illustrating the contrasting
and dynamic relationship that is often found between the two melodic
ideas that are frequently featured in sonata form. To attempt to view every
work in sonata form through this one metaphor is simplistic. In her discus-
sion of coded sonata form, Citron loses her historical grounding, slipping
with ease from the theorists' use of gender as a metaphor describing sonata
form to presenting sonata form itself as a metaphor (or even a "template";
Gender, 123) for illustrating gendered roles and conflicts. From this van-
tage, every example of sonata form must be construed as representing a
binarism of stereotypical roles, and the task for scholars becomes simply to
devise a compelling story for that conflict. While this is a creative, color-
ful, and sometimes insightful procedure, it lacks contextual foundation
and detracts from the more valuable goal of understanding the historical
perspective of the influence of gender.

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422 The Musical Quarterly

McClary, like Citron, relies on a narrow, crystallized notion of

sonata form, although without relying on historical music theory for this:
"We do not need to express verbal confirmation, such as A. B. Marx
offers, in order to proceed."53 She prioritizes the literary approach of nar-
rative theory, both in defining the genre as one with a confining set of
expectations and in seeing the composer as engaged with these expecta-
tions in several set ways, either adhering to, playing off, or subverting
them. These theories of narrative have been criticized as lacking in his-
torical perspective.54 McClary's goal of viewing the musical language as
being shaped by a particular ideology leads her to draw a number of con-
voluted observations about the music.
There is indeed a thread in music theory of employing a metaphor
of gender in explaining sonata form, but this thread should be neither
exaggerated in importance nor ignored. The gendered view existed, but
there is no evidence that it was the basis from which all composers had
to begin or to which they were obliged to respond; neither its universal-
ity nor pervasiveness can be supported. Rather, it was one of a great
many ways in which sonata form could be explained and understood.
Both Citron's and McClary's approaches could be enriched through
more detailed considerations of the contextual setting of the works in
question and of the expressive language of those works within their spe-
cific contexts. In sonata form, to attempt to impose a specific meaning to
the themes and their transformation is to oversimplify the wealth of psy-
chological resonances that may be drawn from such a work. The various
themes, in their various manifestations, are aspects of the richness of the
work as a well-integrated whole.55

A gendered identity of genres reflects lingering romantic and Victorian

ideologies that defined distinctive creative spheres as appropriate for
men and women. According to theories of biological determinism and
social Darwinism, women were capable of writing only in smaller forms;
therefore, only these forms were suitable for them. In contrast, the
larger, abstract forms were in the masculine domain.
Broader issues, particularly the notion of absolute, abstract music,
invite exploration. As stated above in my discussion of Clarke's teacher,
Stanford's writings do not indicate that he viewed sonata form as a
drama of tension-gendered or otherwise. He does, however, present
another binarism: he juxtaposes the large, lofty, absolute genres with the
small, "dainty" genre of song, music that employs the "crutch of text."56
To what extent might this binarism be seen as a projection of
stereotyped gender roles? Stanford's negative characterization of the song
genre draws on an adjective with distinctly feminine associations:

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 423

"dainty."57 Another question is how opera or programmatic genres fit

into this juxtaposition. Stanford repeatedly praised Wagner's works
such as Die Meistersinger and Parsifal but does not confirm this elevated
status by including any consideration of the musical content of these
works.
Other theorists whom I have mentioned as possible influences on
Clarke reinforce this elevated view of sonata form. Parry frequently men-
tions the prestige and perfection of the form, stating that its "value . . . lies
in its being absolutely and unqualifiedly an exposition of certain ideal
principles of design or organization"; it is a form that many find "the final
and most perfect product of human endeavor in music." Prout approaches
the form with reverence: "We have now to treat the most important, and,
with perhaps the single exception of the fugue, the most artistic of the
larger forms-that commonly known as the Sonata Form."58
These theorists' emphasis on the abstract and absolute bears further
examination, which I will here limit to two points. First, these views res-
onate with the romantic values of music raised to the status of a religion.
Stanford, moreover, elevated his discussion through what he saw as rea-
son and logic, drawing on the pseudoscientific vocabulary of organicism
and evolution and on the formalist tradition of Eduard Hanslick.59
Second, scholars have documented that this notion of great creative
art, one that takes place on an abstract, philosophical plane, was under-
stood as belonging to an exclusively male domain. According to Hegel,
"women may have happy ideas, taste, and elegance, but they cannot attain
to the ideal."60 One quote from Otto Weininger can represent many of the
era's philosophers: "genius is linked with manhood, . .. it represents mas-
culinity in the highest form . . . Woman, in short, has an unconscious life,
man a conscious life, and the genius the most conscious life." Christine
Battersby surveys philosophers and authors to support the pervasiveness of
this view, whose notions of genius can be extended to composers as well.61
We return to the notion of gender and genre and to Citron's obser-
vation that the large, abstract genres were viewed as belonging to a mas-
culine sphere. Part of the cultural context of this music-absolute music
of large forms such as sonata form-was being aware of the social signifi-
cance of its elevated status. Such music was indeed thought to be imbued
with religious quality: it represented the universal and transcendent. It
achieved its notion of universal by pretending that difference did not
exist-we enter a world "beyond gender" where issues of gender are
avoided because perception is framed in a strictly male perspective.
Brahms, Stanford, and Clarke would reject (as do many readers of mod-
em theories of gendered sonata form) the notion of their instrumental
works having only one narrow narrative message; but their music was

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424 The Musical Quarterly

conceived within a cultural context in which expectations of gendered

behaviors figured significantly.
By understanding Clarke's use of sonata form from her perspective
and that of her contemporaries, we illuminate the music of one highly
significant figure and the societal attitudes that she faced in working as a
composer. And we open the door to fruitful avenues of investigation of
sonata form and the concept of absolute music. As a starting point for
considerations of how gender roles may have affected the construction
and perception of musical language, the discussions of coded sonata
forms have been valuable and important. Now the alignment of the con-
struction of gender with elements of musical language can begin to be
considered in a more nuanced fashion, with historical considerations
employed precisely to contextualize individual pieces of music.

Notes

I would like to thank the friends and colleagues who have been extremely generous in
offering advice and ideas in various stages of this paper. They include Claire Fontijn, Jef-
frey Kallberg, Ruth Solie, Judith Tick, and anonymous readers.

1. Rebecca Clarke, Sonata for Viola and Piano (London: Chester, 1921; reprint, New
York: Da Capo, 1986). The sonata has been released on nine compact disc recordings.

2. The Norton/Grove Dictionary of Women Composers, ed. Rhian Samuel and Julie Ann
Sadie (New York: Norton, 1995), published in the United Kingdom as The New Grove
Dictionary of Women Composers (London: Macmillan, 1994), xiii. Samuel mentions
Clarke in the context of "forgotten women composers [who] are becoming established
again."

3. Dan Barach, a violist at the State University of New York, Oswego, informs me that
Clarke's sonata was on the violists' repertoire list of 1953 for the Eastman Conservatory
and the New England Conservatory. Private correspondence, July 1993.

4. The few scattered bibliographical materials are described in Stephen Banfield,

"Clarke [Friskin], Rebecca (Thacher)," The Norton/Grove Dictionary of Women Com-
posers, ed. Rhian Samuel and Julie Ann Sadie (New York: Norton, 1995), 120. To this
can be added my "Rebecca Clarke: A Case of Identity," Musical Times 137 (May 1996):
15-21, which also includes some revisions to Clarke's list of works.

5. Marcia Citron, Gender and the Musical Canon (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1993), 132. Leon Plantinga, Romantic Music (New York: W. W. Norton, 1984), 33,
also notes the extensive influence of Marx's treatise. Scott Burnham's "A. B. Marx and
the Gendering of Sonata Form," in Music Theory in the Age of Romanticism, ed. Ian Bent
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 163-86, is considered further below.

6. Citron, Gender, 135.

7. D'Indy quoted and translated by Citron, Gender, 136.

8. Thus Citron, "I would assume that the metaphor has appeared in many sources I
have not consulted," Gender, 133.

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 425

9. Susan McClary, "Narrative Agendas in 'Absolute' Music: Identity and Difference in

Brahms's Third Symphony," in Musicology and Difference, ed. Ruth A. Solie (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1993), 334.

10. McClary, "Narrative Agendas," 331.

11. In an interview with Clarke conducted by Robert Sherman (Aug. 1976) for
WQXR radio, New York City, Clarke states that she did not originally intend for the
quotation to be published with the piece; she merely wrote it at the top of her manu-
script as a way of identifying a score that was being submitted anonymously. I would like
to thank Mr. Sherman for providing me with a tape of this interview.

12. The alignment of the poet/philosopher binarism with female/male and emotion/
reason dates back to Plato's Republic (for example, Book X). When Clarke's sonata tied
for first place in the 1919 Coolidge competition (Mrs. Coolidge herself cast the win-
ning vote for Ernest Bloch's Suite for Viola and Piano), the judges described the win-
ning piece as a work of a philosopher, the runner-up as that of a poet. Christopher
Johnson, notes to Rebecca Clarke: Music for Viola (Northeastern Records, LP 1985, CD
1989), 6; M. B. S[tanfield], "Rebecca Clarke, Violist and Composer," Strad 77
(1966-67): 299.

13. Musset himself was described by Otto Weininger as "the most effeminate lyric poet
known to history." Geschlecht und Charakter, 8th edition (Vienna and Leipzig, 1906);
cited by Jeffrey Kallberg, Chopin at the Boundaries: Sex, History, and Musical Genre (Cam-
bridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1996), pp. 82-83.

14. McClary describes chromaticism as an attribute of feminine second themes; Susan

McClary, "Sexual Politics and Classical Music," in Feminine Endings: Music, Gender, and
Sexuality (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1991), 71.

15. "Getting Down off the Beanstalk," in Feminine Endings, 128.

16. As McClary describes it; "Narrative Agendas," 331.

17. Other examinations of her life include Johnson, notes to Music for Viola; Banfield,
"Clarke"; and Curtis, "A Case of Identity."

18. Interview with Sherman. Clarke discusses this trip in her memoir, "I Had a Father,
Too; or, The Mustard Spoon" (unpublished; written 1967-71 and in the possession of
Clarke's estate, which is managed by Christopher Johnson. I would like to thank Mr.
Johnson for allowing access to these materials). Her early song, "Oh, Dreaming World,"
inscribed "Cambridge, Mass., 1905," supports this recollection. The song, one of her
many unpublished works, survives as part of her estate.

19. Elaine Showalter, The Female Malady: Women, Madness, and English Culture,
1830-1980 (New York: Penguin, 1985), 121-26. See also Barbara Miller Solomon, In the
Company of Educated Women: A History of Women and Higher Education in America (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1986), 56-57.

20. Sara Evans, Born for Liberty: A History of Women in America (New York: Free Press,
1989), 169-72.

21. Evans, Born for Liberty, 179.

22. Interview with Ellen Lerner, Sept. 1978. I would like to thank her for sharing
this valuable material with me. See also n. 43 below for more on Clarke's orchestral
career.

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426 The Musical Quarterly

23. Clarke tells the story of "Anthony Trent" in the interviews with Sherman and
Lerner. I would like to thank Rebecca T. Evans and Heidi Schultz, nieces of Rebecca
Clarke, for providing access to the scrapbook page that includes this program.

24. The traditional expectations of"spinsterhood" are described in Pat Jalland, "Duti-
ful Daughters and Desperate Rebels: The Transition to the New Woman," in Women,
Marriage, and Politics, 1860-1914 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986). Vera Brittain also
gives eloquent voice to this problem in Testament of Youth (1933; United States: Wide-
view Books, 1980), 421-23.

25. This photograph is part of Clarke's estate.

26. Perhaps Coolidge's friendship with Clarke led to the idea of featuring the viola in
the 1919 competition. This competition was the most celebrated moment in Clarke's
career; the story has been retold several times, most extensively by Johnson, Music for
Viola; see also Ann Woodward, introduction to Clarke, Sonata for Viola and Piano (New
York: Da Capo, 1986), v-vi.

27. On Coolidge, see Stephen Banfield, " 'Too Much of Albion'? Mrs. Coolidge and
her British Connections," American Music 4 (1986): 59-88; and Cyrilla Barr, "A Style of
her Own: Reflections on the Patronage of Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge," in Cultivating
Music in America: Women Patrons and Activists Since 1860, ed. Ralph P. Locke and Cyrilla
Barr (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1997), 185-203. I thank
Professor Barr for sharing her research with me in advance of publication. Because of the
friendship between Clarke and Coolidge, Richard Aldrich of the New York Times sug-
gested in letters to Coolidge (25 and 27 Aug. 1919, now in the Library of Congress) that
had Clarke won the competition, it would have been perceived as unfair. Quoted by
Woodward, introduction to Clarke, Sonata, v.

28. The diaries give evidence of a compositional process in which trial readings by
friends meant a great deal. Clarke's diaries from 1919 to 1933 survive and are part of her
estate. I thank Mr. Johnson for sharing this material with me.

29. Christopher Johnson, "Rebecca Clarke: A Thematic Catalogue of Her Music"

(unpublished paper, 1977), 11.

30. "Morpheus," as recorded by Paul Coletti, viola, and Leslie Howard, piano (Hyper-
ion CDA66687, 1993), lasts six minutes, and "Epilogue," as recorded by Pamela Frame,
cello, and Robert Weirich, piano (Koch International Classics 3-7281-2H1, 1994), lasts
four minutes, fifty seconds. In contrast, the Viola Sonata is between twenty-three and
twenty-six minutes in length in its various recordings; the Piano Trio is of a similar
extent.

31. Clarke's Rhapsody for Cello and Piano was written in 1922-23 for Mrs
commission of $1,000; thus it was not written for a competition, although it
the preceding "Coolidge" works. The rhapsody can be seen as an experimen
it has the size and scope of the large multimovement absolute works, but it
uous movement, and it does not use sonata form. We can note its evocative
like her concert pieces, it begins and ends softly (see Ex. 15).

32. "All [his pupils] smarted initially under the damning criticism of sloven
garity, dubious material or workmanship, vagueness of attitude and the like.
Hudson, "Stanford, Sir Charles Villiers," in The New Grove Dictionary of Mu
cians, ed. Stanley Sadie (London: Macmillan, 1980), 18:72.

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 427

33. Prout, Applied Forms: A Sequel to "Musical Form" (London: Augener, 1895), 145. In
her memoir Clarke mentions encountering Prout's teachings at the Royal Academy of
Music.

34. Citron, Gender, 141.

35. Stewart MacPherson and Ernest Read, Aural Culture Based upon Musical Apprecia-
tion, 3 vols. (London: Joseph Williams, 1914), 2:208.

36. Stewart MacPherson, Form in Music (London: Joseph Williams, 1908; rev. ed.,
1930), 138.

37. Concerning organicism, Ruth A. Solie explores the pervasiveness and inaccuracies
of the metaphor in "The Living Work: Organicism and Musical Analysis," Nineteenth-
Century Music 4 (1980): 147-56. Thomas Sipe details the distinction between the low-
level morphological concept of organicism, the type employed by Stanford, and the more
developmental, energetic concept of organicism in which musical processes themselves
are viewed as inherently organic, without recourse to comparison with other organic
utilities; see his "Interpreting Beethoven: History, Aesthetics, and Critical Reception"
(Ph.D. diss., University of Pennsylvania, 1992), 157-60, 186-200. Janet Levy also dis-
cusses organicism in "Covert and Casual Values in Recent Writing about Music," Journal
of Musicology 5 (1987): 3-27. On evolution as well as organicism, Warren Dwight Allen,
Philosophies of Music History: A Study of General History of Music, 1600-1960 (1939; rev.
ed., New York: Dover, 1962), remains valuable.

38. Allen, Philosophies of Music History, 112-15.

39. Rupert Hughes, writing in 1900, quoted in Judith Tick, American Women Composers
before 1870 (1979; University of Rochester Press, 1995), 228. On these masculine and femi-
nine creative spheres in music and the problem of the double bind, see also Tick, "Passed
Away Is the Piano Girl: Changes in American Musical Life, 1870-1900," in Women Making
Music: The Western Art Tradition, 1150-1950, ed. Jane Bowers and Judith Tick (Urbana:
University of Illinois Press, 1987), 336-38; and Derek Scott, "The Sexual Politics of Victo-
rian Musical Aesthetics," Journal of the Royal Musical Association 119 (1994): 96-98.

40. J. Swinburne, "Women and Music," Proceedings of the Royal Musical Association 46
(1919-20): 23.

41. Stanford, Musical Composition: A Short Treatise for Students (London: Macmillan,
1911), 33-34.
42. See above and n. 19.

43. One hundred thirty-seven women applied for these positions. David Cox, The
Henry Wood Proms (London: British Broadcasting Corp., 1980), 56-57; and Arthur
Jacobs, Henry J. Wood: Maker of the Proms (London: Methuen, 1994), 142.

44. Frederick Corder, A History of the Royal Academy of Music (London, 1922).

45. Christine Battersby is quite detailed on the subject of"male motherhood" in Gender
and Genius: Toward a Feminist Aesthetics (London: Women's Press, 1989; Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 1989).

46. Battersby, Gender and Genius. Citron (Gender, 122-23) also discusses the quality of
transcendence as male, a point that is discussed further below.

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428 The Musical Quarterly

47. Judith Fetterley has coined the term "immasculation" for this process of women
stepping out of their traditional feminine attributes and instead taking on specifically
male approaches. The Resisting Reader: A Feminist Approach to American Fiction (Bloom-
ington: Indiana University Press, 1978), xx.

48. Clarke had a further period of creativity between 1939 and about 1942. The shape
of her compositional career is considered in my "A Case of Identity." These issues were
also examined in my "Rebecca Clarke: A Context for the Instrumental Music," paper
presented at the national convention of the American Musicological Society, Montreal,
6 Nov. 1993, and will also be considered further in my biography, An Intimate Voice: The
Life and Music of Rebecca Clarke (in progress).

49. Further consideration of gendered sonata form is found in Susan McClary, "Con-
structions of Subjectivity in Schubert's Music," in Queering the Pitch: The New Gay and
Lesbian Musicology, ed. Philip Brett, Elizabeth Wood, and Gary Thomas (New York and
London: Routledge, 1994), 205-33; and Robert Fink, "Desire, Repression, and Brahms's
First Symphony," repercussions 2 (1993): 75-103. Derek B. Scott, "The Sexual Politics of
Victorian Musical Aesthetics," assumes the operation of coded sonata form as a given,
107-10. James Hepokoski, in "Masculine-Feminine: (En)gendering Sonata Form,"
(Musical Times 135 [August 1994]: 494-9), mentioned in n. 5, offers a convincing discus-
sion of gendered sonata form, based on a study of programmatic works.

50. Citron, Gender, 122-23, 158. See also her "Feminist Approaches to Musicology," in
Cecilia Reclaimed: Feminist Perspectives on Gender and Music, ed. Susan C. Cook and Judy
S. Tsou (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1994), 15-34.

51. Burnham, "A. B. Marx."

52. In 1893, the Paris Conservatory rejected D'Indy's proposed teaching method. He
was for a time a notable figure among those who objected to Debussy's music, but after
1908 his reputation declined. His lengthy treatise was never translated and thus would
not have been influential in England. See Robert Orledge, "Indy, Vincent D'," in The
New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians (London: Macmillan, 1980), 9:221-22;
G. B. Paul, "Rameau, D'Indy, and French Nationalism," Musical Quarterly 58 (1972): 46;
and Andrew Thomson, Vincent D'Indy and His World (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996),
84-88.

53. McClary, "Narrative Agendas," 332; "crystallized," 334.

54. Jay Clayton is among those who has criticized theories of narrative for their lack of
historicity; "Narrative and Theories of Desire," Critical Inquiry 16 (1989): 33-53.

55. Kallberg's thoughts on genre are particularly relevant to this discussion; Chopin at
the Boundaries, 4-11. He emphasizes genre as a social phenomenon and stresses the
importance of considering statements on genre made within a circumscribed time frame
so that they will be contextually specific.

56. Stanford, Musical Composition, 33-34.

57. "Dainty," in the Oxford English Dictionary, def. 4: "of delicate or tender beauty and
grace." Ben Jonson, The Silent Woman (1609), iv: "Let your gifts be slight and dainty,
rather than precious."

58. Parry, Style, 96, 336; and Prout, Applied Forms, 127.

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 Questions of Gender and Genre 429

59. As discussed by Carl Dahlhaus, The Idea of Absolute Music, trans. Roger Lustig
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989).

60. Nancy Tuana, Woman and the History of Philosophy (New York: Paragon House,
1992), quotes Hegel (103) and describes his view that "woman is capable of conscious-
ness, but hers is less fully developed than that of man."

61. Battersby, Gender and Genius, esp. 91-123, 154-61. Goethe, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche,
and Freud are among the thinkers she considers. Otto Weininger's Sex and Character (1903)
is quoted by Battersby, 114. Citron also aptly discusses many of these observations in
Gender, "Music as Gendered Discourse."

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