A Forgotten Founder: Franz Danzi and His Nine Woodwind

A thesis submitted to The University of Cincinnati

in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

MASTER OF MUSIC

In the Division of Composition, Musicology, and Theory of the College-Conservatory of Music Music History

March 30, 2017

By

Kirsten M. Westerman M09122442

B.M. Ball State University

2670 Lehman Road #706D Cincinnati, OH 45204 [email protected] M09122442

Advisor: Jonathan Kregor, Ph.D.

Reader: Stephen Meyer, Ph.D.

Reader: Mary Sue Morrow, Ph.D.

ABSTRACT

This project examines the first movements of the nine woodwind quintets by Franz Ignaz

Danzi (1763-1826), Opp. 56, 67, and 68, in order to substantiate the ubiquitous claims surrounding the composer as being a “founder” of the genre, alongside (1770-

1836). A brief background on Danzi provides information on the composer’s musical training as well as his compositional career, which had direct impact on the composer’s blended Classical and pre-Romantic style. Additionally, there is a chapter dedicated to the development of wind during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. This consideration to earlier wind music, particularly the , will aid in placing Danzi at the genesis of the modern woodwind . Lastly, I have included extensive formal and stylistic analyses of the first movements in order to show key aspects of the composer’s transitional style within a new medium—the woodwind quintet.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

ABSTRACT ...... i

TABLE OF CONTENTS ...... iii

INTRODUCTION ...... iv

CHAPTER 1. BACKGROUND ...... 1

CHAPTER 2. THE HISTORY AND DEVELOPMENT OF THE EARLY NINTEENTH CENTURY ...... 9

CHAPTER 3. DANZI’S NINE WOODWIND QUINTETS ...... 32

CONCLUSION ...... 55

BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 57

SCORES ...... 60

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INTRODUCTION

With the foundation of the Société de musique de chambre pour instruments á vent by

Paul Taffanel in 1879, the woodwind quintet was revived after a period of dormancy that lasted approximately fifty years, and as a result, commissions for the ensemble began to flourish.1

Almost immediately after its founding, the society began to patronize compositions for winds, which resulted in Gounod’s celebrated Petite (1885), among other notable works. In

1892, Taffanel became conductor of the Sociéte des Concerts, where he expanded the repertoire to favor contemporary music, nearly exclusively to winds.2 Because woodwind instruments had finally been standardized by the end of the nineteenth century, composers of these new works were able to employ the instruments in new and innovative ways.3 Composers most commonly turned to smaller chamber groups, resulting in a burst of compositions for the wind quintet, thus reviving the genre. As a result, the quintet remains one of the most highly favored performance mediums for listeners and composers to this day.

However, despite this contemporary predilection for wind music, the genre remains one of the most neglected in music scholarship. Its origins are relatively clear and remain

1 Nancy Toff, The Book: A Complete Guide for Students and Performers, Third edition (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012), 247.

2 Edward Blakeman, “Paul Taffanel,” in Grove Music Online, Accessed February 4, 2017.

3 Karl Geiringer thoroughly traces the historical developments of Western orchestral instruments in his Instruments in the History of Western Music (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978). According to Geiringer, the first standardized wind instrument was the Boehm in 1840, produced by H. Klosé, the professor of clarinet at the Paris Conservatoire. Following the clarinet was the valve , which was finally deemed equal to the natural horn around 1850. As the century progressed, composers began to prefer the valve F horn, due to the instrument’s ability to play in all key signatures. Originally a conically shaped instrument, the flute received structural changes by Theobald Boehm, which he deemed “complete” by 1847 when he constructed the modern cylindrical structure. Instrument makers labored over the for nearly the entirety of the century, but it was during the late 1840s when Boehm’s flute designs began to influence oboe designers. By 1880, the Parisian “Conservatoire model” became the standard design for oboists, as like the Boehm flute, it allowed ease in technique and increased sound capabilities. Like the oboe, the did not reach standardization until 1880. German designers were indeed concerned with improving the instrument’s technical possibilities. However, their greatest preoccupation concerned creating an “equal voice” with fellow wind instruments.

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uncontroversial, and in the minimal literature available on the genre, scholars unanimously agree on the first “true” quintets as being those by Anton Reicha (1770-1836) and Franz Danzi (1763-

1826). Despite these ubiquitous claims on Danzi’s importance in establishing the wind quintet, the composer remains overshadowed by Reicha.

This project seeks to substantiate the claims surrounding Danzi and his importance to the modern wind quintet. To do so, this project provides background information on the composer— including his musical training and career travels—as well as formal and stylistic analyses of the first movements of his quintets. The decision to focus solely on the first movements is not meant to imply that the other movements within these quintets are lesser-developed or simply uninteresting. Focusing on the first movements, however, will give insight into Danzi’s transitional style with regards to his formal procedures and harmonic decisions, which have been regrettably overlooked. The provided formal analyses will thus reveal similarities between the first movements of Danzi’s quintets, and the later instrumental works of Beethoven and

Schubert. Comparisons will be drawn between Haydn’s treatment of monothematic form in his Op. 76 no. 3 “Emperor” , and the first movements of Beethoven’s “Emperor”

Concerto Op. 73 and the “Pathétique” Sonata Op. 13. Regarding formal procedures that resemble those of Schubert, similarities will be revealed in the composers’ treatment of three-keyed expositions, most pointedly between Danzi’s last quintet and Schubert’s D. 929.

Indeed, by this time, solo works for piano had already achieved artistic acclaim, and Danzi’s decision to emulate various formal procedures found within works for these established genres may indicate the composer’s attempt at elevating wind chamber music.

The formal analyses in this project employ the methods of James Hepokoski and Warren

Darcy as proposed in Elements of Sonata Theory: Norms, Types, and Deformations in the Late-

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Eighteenth-Century Sonata (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011). The decision to utilize their approaches lies within their various classifications of established “norms” as well as the

“deformations” found in late eighteenth-century compositions, typically indicative of more progressive procedures that ultimately led to the Romantic era. While Danzi’s quintets were composed within approximately six years of one another (1819-1824/5), they contain formal expansion and manipulation that blend Classical and pre-Romantic procedures.

Definitions for the various terms used in the third chapter’s formal analyses are provided as follows:4

1. Primary-Theme Zone (P)

A module that precedes or sets up what is taken to the “P-theme proper” and may be

designated as P0 or P1.0.

2. Transition (TR)

Following P, the energy-gaining modules driving toward the medial caesura.

3. Medial Caesura (MC)

Within an exposition, I:HC MC represents a medial caesura built around the

dominant of the original tonic; V: HC represents an MC built around V/V; etc. The

presence of an MC identifies the exposition-type as two-part—the most common

type—and leads directly to an S theme. In nearly all cases, if there is no MC, there is

no S. Cf. the alternative, TRFS

4. Fortspinnung Modules (FS)

Usually in the continuous-exposition context of TRFS

4 All of these definitions can be found in the “Terms and Abbreviations” section of Elements of Sonata Theory, pp. xxv-xxviii.

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5. Transition Merges into Fortspinnung (TRFS)

The broad middle section of a continuous exposition that begins as a transition, but at

a crucial “point of conversion” midway through is often better described as

Fortspinnung (FS) or, in other cases, a chain of thematic modules. Either procedure

avoids producing a clear MC and the resultant two-part exposition.

The  (“becomes” or “merges into”) represents the conceptual point of conversion.

6. Trimodular Block (TMB)

An essentially emphatic type of multimodular structure in an exposition or

recapitulation, always associated with the phenomenon of apparent double medial

caesuras. Individual modules may be designed as TM1, TM2, and TM3.

7. Secondary-Theme Zone (S)

Follows an MC. This is built from pre-cadential, pre-EEC thematic modules.

Differing musical ideas within it, when they exist, are designate with superscripts as

S1.1, S1.2, and so on.

8. Essential Expositional Closure (EEC)

Within an exposition, usually the first satisfactory PAC that occurs within S and that

proceeds onward to differing material.

9. Retransition (RT)

A connective passage of preparation, usually leading to the onset of a new rotation,

that is to the repeat of the exposition, to the onset of the recapitulation, or to the

beginning of the coda.

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10. Essential Structural Closure (ESC)

Within a recapitulation, usually the first satisfactory PAC that occurs within S and

that proceeds onward to differing material. Like the EEC, the ESC can also be

deferred through certain procedures to the next PAC. The ESC is normally the

recapitulation’s parallel point to the exposition’s EEC, although exceptions do exist.

In addition to formal analyses, this project provides extensive stylistic analyses that consider Danzi’s treatment of , phrase structure, harmony, and texture. Most importantly however, in regards to his style, is Danzi’s treatment of each instrument within the ensemble.

Prior to the quintets of Danzi and Reicha, instruments within wind ensembles fell victim to standardized roles, and it was not until the late eighteenth century when they began to be emancipated from their positions, although these compositions were scarce. Indeed, the wind divertimenti of Haydn and Mozart from the 1760s and 1770s show instances of new writing and treatment of the instruments. However, true equality between all of the voices is not achieved until Reicha and Danzi completed their quintets.

This project does not intend to diminish the importance of Reicha, who is also inarguably responsible for founding the modern woodwind quintet, nor does it intend to criticize quintet or wind chamber scholarship that emphasizes Reicha over Danzi. However, this project seeks to remedy the neglect that Danzi has suffered in music scholarship. Reicha’s twenty-four quintets are charming works, and one may garner better insight into his distinct wind chamber writing in

Leslie Goldman Maaser’s dissertation, “Antoine Reicha’s for Flute and Strings, Op. 98:

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An Historical Perspective and Stylistic Overview,”5 as well as his theoretical and formal procedures in Noel Howard Magee’s dissertation, “Reicha As Theorist.”6

In order to better understand Danzi’s blended style, the first chapter of this project provides background information on the composer with specific consideration to his early musical training in which he inherited many of the Classical traditions, as well as his tutelage under the more progressive Abbé Vogler. Additionally, this chapter traces Danzi’s compositional career and considers the various cities in which he resided, which indeed had direct impact on his compositional choices and the ensembles for which he wrote. Specific attention is given to —the provincial town where Danzi spent his final years, and precisely where he completed the nine quintets of Opp. 56, 67, and 68.

In order to assess the significance and innovation of Danzi’s quintets, the second chapter provides an overview of wind chamber music throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Significant consideration is given to the Harmonie, including its instrumentation, the roles of each voice within the ensemble, performance locations, as well as the Harmonie’s development from an amateur ensemble, to one that achieved acclaim and became professionalized by the end of the eighteenth century. Additionally, this chapter addresses the various types of Harmoniemusik, including the wind divertimenti of Haydn and Mozart, as well as Mozart’s monumental, Serenade for 13 Winds “Gran Partita” K. 361/370a. By providing stylistic analyses of these compositions, the innovation of Danzi’s writing for winds is further revealed.

5 Leslie Goldman Maaser, “Antoine Reicha’s Quartets for Flute and Strings, Op. 98: An Historical Perspective and Stylistic Overview,” DMA diss., Ohio State University, 1998.

6 Noel Howard Magee, “Reicha as Theorist,” Ph.D. diss., University of Iowa, 1977.

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The third chapter comprises a detailed overview of the first movements. Danzi’s formal procedures expand and vary in approach, and while all of the movements are in , they are saturated with instances of functional ambiguity. Following the methods of Hepokoski and

Darcy, it is revealed that Danzi fits squarely within the transitional style of his contemporaries, particularly Beethoven and Schubert, while composing for an entirely new ensemble. The chapter also considers Danzi’s compositional style, including his approach to writing for five instruments with distinctly different . In addressing his style, this chapter assesses

Danzi’s treatment of melody, phrase structure, harmony, and texture.

Following the third chapter, there is a brief conclusion that synthesizes all of the gathered information, ultimately substantiating the numerous claims in wind scholarship that attribute

Danzi as being a co-founder of the modern wind quintet.

REVIEW OF LITERATURE

In general, woodwind chamber music as a genre has been largely overlooked in music scholarship. Considering the ensemble’s prevalence in new compositions and performance throughout much of the twentieth century, this absence is unfortunate. Moreover, when the quintet is mentioned in literature, it is often as subsidiary material, and there remains a lack of comprehensive resources on the genre itself.

Mark A. Radice’s Chamber Music: An Essential History, published in 2012, offers plentiful information on the earliest chamber music, including the and the , as well as twentieth-century chamber music. However, it fails to mention harmoniemusik as well as the wind divertimenti of Haydn and Mozart, compositions that served as models for Danzi and Reicha. Additionally, Radice significantly underrepresents woodwind chamber music, especially works composed before the twentieth century. This book

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offers extensive information on the from all eras, and while there is brief mention of Anton Reicha and Danzi’s woodwind quintets, Radice goes no further than touting Danzi as,

“responsible for the establishment of the wind quintet.”7

Ruth Halle Rowen’s book, Early Chamber Music, originally published in 1949, was reprinted in 1974 with a new preface and supplementary bibliography prepared by the author. In the second edition, Rowen provides a comprehensive overview of vocal and instrumental chamber music between 1600 and the early 1760s— the time in which, as Rowen posits, the modern idea of chamber music was established. While Rowen’s book does not offer any explicit ties to the modern quintet, or even wind quintets of the early nineteenth century, she provides extensive, valuable information on the musical style and characteristics of these smaller chamber compositions from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Rowen dedicates a chapter to the stylistic differences between the da chiesa and da camera styles, as well as the style galant, which was style highly favored by French and Italian consumers in the early part of the eighteenth century.8 Lastly, Rowen consolidates all of the elements discussed throughout her book in a final chapter that provides a stylistic definition for the early Classical instrumental chamber style—a style on which Danzi drew heavily for his quintets.

Chamber Music and Its Masters in the Past and Present by Nicholas Kilburn further substantiates the evidence that wind chamber music has suffered neglect in music scholarship.

This book, published in 1932, proposes to provide an overview of chamber music irrespective of its type. However, Kilburn dedicates the entire book solely to string chamber music. In the minimal research that has been given to wind chamber music, Reicha and Danzi are nearly

7 Mark A. Radice, Chamber Music: An Essential History, (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2012), 86.

8 Ruth Halle Rowen, Early Chamber Music (New York: Da Capo Press, 1974), 110.

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always simultaneously credited as the founders of the modern wind quintet, and Reicha is subsequently elaborated upon. Indeed, neither Danzi or Reicha were mentioned once in this book on chamber music and its masters. To the author’s credit, the book offers brief insight into early chamber performances settings and locations; however, it completely neglects to mention any type of wind chamber compositions, including the divertimenti of Haydn and Mozart, despite each composer receiving his own chapter.

Coverage of Danzi and his quintets from Op. 56 appears in Homer Ulrich’s Chamber

Music: The Growth and Practice of an Intimate Art, published in 1948, with a second edition printed in 1953. Ulrich focuses heavily on the development of chamber music as a whole, and dedicates several chapters to the string chamber music of Haydn and Mozart. However, unfortunately, he neglects the divertimenti of both composers. Additionally, his failure to mention Mozart’s “Gran Partita” is disappointing, considering how the composition served as a pivot for composers to begin writing seriously for wind chamber ensembles. While Ulrich spends much of his time writing about string chamber music, he does mention Danzi when discussing traditions of the Classical Mannheim school, and the implementation of the and trio as the third movement of a four-movement chamber composition, although Ulrich mistakenly refers to Danzi’s Op. 56, no. 2 as a “quartet.”9

Stephen E. Hefling’s Nineteenth-Century Chamber Music does not delve into any repertoire written for the woodwind quintet, despite its coverage of the aforementioned Société de musique de chambre pour instruments á vent in 1879, which caused a revival of wind chamber music and substantial commissioning for new wind chamber works by composers such as Charles Lefebvre, Gabriel Pierné, and . Danzi is mentioned in a chapter on

9 Homer Ulrich, Chamber Music: The Growth and Practice of an Intimate Art (New York: Columbia University Press, 1953), 173.

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Weber, but only to the extent that Danzi may have influenced the younger composer in his writing for winds in his , Silvana.

To date, Roger Hellyer’s dissertation, “Harmoniemusik: Music for Small Wind in the Late Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Century,” completed at the University of Oxford in

1973, serves as the most recent and comprehensive resource on some of the earliest woodwind chamber music. While this dissertation has proven immensely helpful in adding social and contextual insight into the earliest wind music, Hellyer situates the Harmonie within the history of the wind band and military music, rather than incorporating it within the history of the wind quintet and other wind chamber music mediums.

As previously mentioned, Danzi maintained a close relationship with Weber throughout most of his life. Indeed, scholarship has paid much closer attention to Weber as opposed to

Danzi; however, in nearly all of the literature on Weber, Danzi’s name is mentioned. Joachim

Veit’s dissertation, “Der junge : Untersuchungen zum Einfluß Franz

Danzis und Abbé Georg Joseph Voglers” published in 1987, includes a brief biography of Danzi, in addition to critical analyses of Weber’s early operatic works with comparison to the operatic output by his teachers, including Danzi. Veit’s comparison between the works of Danzi and

Weber further reinforces the fact that Danzi was a highly influential teacher and composer in early nineteenth-century Germany. This emphasis on his influences helps to re-contextualize

Danzi’s woodwind quintets in both the history of the genre and historical stylistic development, particularly as it pertains to the transitional period between the Classical and early-Romantic eras.

Additionally, Danzi is mentioned in Max Maria von Weber’s biography on his father in

Carl Maria von Weber: The Life of an Artist. Weber discusses the relationship between the two

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composers in detail, and it quickly becomes clear that Carl Maria deeply revered his mentor.

John Warrack’s biography, Carl Maria von Weber, originally published in 1968, and with a second edition printed in 1976, further substantiates the affection Weber held for Danzi. Warrack writes on the influences Danzi had on the younger composer, especially in terms of instilling

German operatic ideaology. According to Warrack, Danzi held measurable influence in

“enlarging Weber’s natural appreciation for orchestral virtuosity,” as well as extensive use of chromatic in compositions such as Der erste Ton, completed while Danzi and Weber were together in .10 Weber even went so far as to dedicate the work to Danzi for his forty-fifth birthday.

To date, there are two dissertations regarding Danzi as an opera composer: Erich

Reipschläger’s “Schubaur, Danzi, und Poissl als Opernkomponisten: Ein Beitrag zur

Entwickelungsgeschichte der deutschen Oper auf Münchener Boden,” completed in 1911, and

Max Herre’s “Franz Danzi: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der deutschen Oper,” from 1930. While heavily outdated, these dissertations provide extensive information on Danzi’s biography, including his relationship with Weber and influence on the younger composer. While two dissertations on any given subject is indeed minimal, it is puzzling that there are two substantive works on Danzi as an opera composer, given the near complete absence of his from today’s stage.

Udo Sirker’s 1968 dissertation, “Die Entwicklung des Bläserquintetts in der ersten Hälfte des 19 Jahrhunderts,” surveys the development of the genre precisely when Danzi completed his nine quintets. While the source is undeniably valuable in gaining insight into quintet’s development during this the first half of the nineteenth century, Sirker appoints Reicha as the

10 John Warrack, Carl Maria von Webe, Second edition (New York: The MacMillan Company, 1976), 68-69.

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sole founder of the wind quintet, despite acknowledging that Danzi and Reicha were composing for the ensemble within five years of one another.

Peter Marquis Alexander’s 1986 dissertation, “The Chamber Music of Franz Danzi:

Sources, Chronology, and Style,” provides a detailed topical analysis of Danzi’s chamber works with respect to form, harmony, melody, and rhythm. However, given that Danzi completed eighty-six chamber pieces of all types over the course of his compositional career, Alexander is understandably only able to dedicate limited space to each piece. As a result, Danzi’s nine woodwind quintets are only briefly discussed for their various textures and timbres. For the biographical section on Danzi, Alexander draws heavily upon Herre’s dissertation, which has proven invaluable in gaining a better understanding Danzi as a man, and composer. Indeed,

Alexander laments the absence of scholarship on Danzi’s chamber music,11 and nearly thirty years later, this absence is still a reality. In fact, while not entirely outdated, Alexander’s dissertation remains the most recent resource available on his chamber compositions.

Alexander’s topical approach to Danzi’s chamber pieces has proven to be a valuable methodological model, and his bibliography provides extensive resources from late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century German scholars—that is, during the time when Danzi’s name began to reappear in German scholarship.

While secondary sources on both Danzi and the history of the woodwind quintet are limited, many valuable primary resources concerning Danzi and his reception as a conductor and composer are available. Because much of his music was published during his lifetime, it was widely disseminated and performed extensively on early nineteenth-century German stages.

Many of his published works were reviewed in the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, and as

11 Peter Marquis Alexander, “The Chamber Music of Franz Danzi: Sources, Chronology, and Style,” Ph.D. diss., Indiana University, 11.

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early as 1780, reviews of his staged works appeared in the Litteratur- und Theater-Zeitung

(Berlin). Likewise, reviews of his performances as a young opera conductor were included in an issue of Taschenbuch für die Schaubühne (1793). In all of these reviews, Danzi’s music is well- received, and it can be discerned that from the earliest part of his career that Danzi managed to successfully establish a respectable name for himself as both composer and conductor.12 From

1818-24, Danzi began a correspondence with the publisher Johann André. These letters with

André, along with many others between Danzi and fellow composers, have been collected and compiled by Volkmar von Pechstaedt in his Briefwechsel 1785-1826.13 This resource has proven to be invaluable in gleaning an understanding of Danzi’s own opinions of his quintets, as well as how the quintets were received by publishers, mentors, and close friends.

With the most recent research on Danzi having been completed over thirty years ago, the composer and his quintets are due renewed critical attention. Danzi’s influence on younger composers cannot be denied, as evidenced by his relationship with Carl Maria von Weber, the composer later responsible for, as put by John Warrack, “taking German opera into the new territory of .”14 Additionally, the composer’s handling of his quintets was innovative, as he wrote idiomatically for each of the instruments while simultaneously liberating each one from its typical role within instrumental music.

12 Alexander, “The Chamber Music of Franz Danzi,” 3-4.

13 Volkmar von Pechstaedt. Franz Danzi - Briefwechsel 1785-1826. Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1997.

14 Warrack, Carl Maria von Weber, 69.

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Chapter 1

BACKGROUND

Franz Ignaz Danzi was born on June 15, 1763 in , Germany to Innocenz

Danzi and Barbara Toeschi Danzi. During his childhood, Danzi experienced the benefit of being raised in a musically connected and artistically vibrant household. His father was principal cellist in the renowned court of Elector Karl Theodor of Mannheim, and his mother, a dancer at the same court, was the sister of the orchestra’s concertmaster.15 Along with the Stamitzes and

Cannabiches, the Danzis were recognized as one of Mannheim’s leading musical families, and all of the Danzi children established successful and lasting musical careers: his sisters toured

Germany as celebrated singers, and his two brothers served as a violinist and cellist in the court orchestra.16 In his obituary of Danzi in the Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung, Friedrich Rochlitz mentions that from a very young age, the composer exhibited extraordinary musical talent, received his earliest musical training in voice and piano from his father, and eventually learned the cello as well.17

In addition to his father’s instruction, Danzi received formal composition lessons from

Abbé Vogler. Despite being highly respected by his students, the musically progressive Vogler elicited rather contentious feelings from his contemporaries: Rochlitz called him “cross- headed,”18 and he was dubbed a “fool” and “trickster, pure and simple” by Mozart.19 In spite of

15Alexander, “The Chamber Music of Franz Danzi,” 18.

16 Alexander, 25.

17 Rochlitz, “Franz Danzi,” col. 582. “D.’s Vater, Innocenz, wurde der Lehrer des Sohnes, und das schon frühzeitig, da dieser Talent und Neigung zeigte. Er brachte ihm die Elementarkenntnisse aller Musik und das nächste Mittel, sie anzuwenden, das Klavierspielen und Singen, leicht bey; dann hielt er ihn zum Spiel seines eignen Instruments, des Violoncells, an und im letztern blieb er auch in der Folge sein Lehrer.”

18 Rochlitz, “Franz Danzi,” col. 582. “….Lehrer der Composition, der geistvolle, aber etwas querköpfige Abbe Vogler, in seiner selbst erfundenen Sprache nannte….”

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the controversy that surrounded Vogler, Elector Karl provided the composer with enough funding to establish the “Mannheimer Tonschule,” considered to be the first systematic music school.20 As a result, Vogler’s theories of harmony had significant influence on nineteenth- century approaches to and composition, and he foreshadowed the oncoming

Romantic period with his chromatic harmonies, orchestration, and melodic borrowing from folksongs.21 Danzi’s tutelage under Vogler began in 1776 and lasted until 1784, when he left for a position as a cellist in . While his compositions faded into obscurity, Vogler’s lasting impression is found in the works of his pupils including Carl Maria von Weber, Meyerbeer, and

Danzi.

When he was fifteen, Danzi joined his father as a cellist in the Mannheim orchestra. At the end of that same year, the elector became heir to the Bavarian throne, resulting in a merger between the Mannheim and Bavarian court . Before leaving, Karl Theodor provided his musicians the option of retiring, moving to Munich, or staying in Mannheim where a smaller orchestra would remain intact. For reasons unknown, Danzi and his older brother Johann, a violinist, decided to stay in Mannheim, while their father relocated to Munich to continue as a cellist in the Bavarian orchestra.22

Due to the merger, Mannheim lost nearly a third of its overall population, and faced possible economic dissolution. To prevent an imminent economic collapse, Elector Karl established the National Theater, which served to maintain the city’s high level of artistry, as well as attract external income from surrounding cities. However, as a result of the merger, only

19 Emily Anderson, The Letters of Mozart and His Family, Vol. 1 (New York: Norton, 1985), 370 and 428.

20 Alexander, 27-28.

21 Margaret Grave, “Abbé Vogler,” in Grove Music Online, accessed January 18, 2017.

22 Alexander, 31.

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about twenty musicians remained in Mannheim; therefore, the theater was limited to smaller performances, which included incidental music and .23 Between 1780 and 1784, Danzi began to compose more frequently, and completed twelve works for the National theater, which included one Singspiel, a , and incidental music for at least eight plays.24

Shortly after the success of his one-act duodrama Cleopatra, Danzi completed his first operatic work, a three-act Singspiel entitled Azakia. In January 1782, ’s highly popular Die Räuber premiered at the National Theater. While the music used for the and songs were most likely written by J.R. Zumsteeg, the entr’actes were by Danzi.25 In 1783,

Danzi’s father retired from his position as the cellist for the Bavarian court orchestra, and the position was subsequently offered to Danzi. Despite the dismal pay, it is likely that Danzi was ready to move to a larger city that was far more culturally vibrant than Mannheim, especially considering his growing success as a composer. Therefore, in 1784, Danzi relocated to Munich and assumed his father’s role as cellist for the orchestra.

Upon arriving in Munich, Danzi quickly learned of the abysmal troubles within the orchestra. The merger between the Mannheim and Munich orchestras had not gone smoothly, and despite the retirement of several players, Karl Theodor still had an ensemble that was larger than what he could financially sustain. As a result of the financial constraints, Danzi initially experienced difficulty having his compositions performed. Indeed, it was not until February 1789 when Danzi had his first opera, Triumph der Treue, performed on a Munich stage. It was well-

23 Alexander, 33.

24 Grave, “Abbé Vogler.”

25 Alexander, 37.

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received and was performed three more times throughout the year, and Danzi’s second opera Der

Quasimann steadily remained in the theater’s repertoire until 1792.

While his first two operas were indeed received favorably by his Munich audience,

Danzi’s greatest operatic success is found in his singspiel Die Mitternachtstunde, which was premiered at the theater in February 1798. While reviews of the premiere no longer exist, the opera was undoubtedly a success. At least four more performances in Munich took place that year, and it was repeated in 1799, 1802, and 1804. Additionally, it was performed in Mannheim,

Frankfurt, and Berlin, and eventually made its way as far as Budapest and St. Petersburg. Of

Danzi’s operas, Die Mittersnachtstunde is the only one to have been printed. Following the great success of this opera, Danzi was appointed as vice- in May 1798. With this new appointment, Danzi was relieved from his position as an orchestra member, and was able to dedicate his energy to conducting opera performances and composition.26

Shortly after his success with Die Mitternachtstunde, Danzi’s life took a tragic turn. In

April 1798 his beloved father died, and in February 1799, Karl Theodor, the man who was largely responsible for the promotion of Danzi’s music, died at the age of seventy-four.

Theodor’s successor, Maximilian IV Joseph, was undoubtedly an educated man, but his artistic tastes differed from that of Theodor, who maintained a strong affection for German music and its promotion. Joseph’s cultural and educational background was French and his operatic predilections were Italian. Due to these preferences, the court’s performances began to be largely dominated by French and .27 Finally, in June 1800, Danzi’s wife Margarethe died at the young age of thirty-two.

26 Alexander, 57.

27 Ibid., 58.

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In 1801, Simrock published a new edition of Die Mittersnachtstunde, and its subsequent performances were praised. Danzi continued to compose operatic works; however, they never achieved the same success as Die Mittersnachtstunde. With the audience’s growing ambivalence towards his new opera compositions, Danzi began to focus on writing for new genres, and between 1802-4, he published seven string quartets, his first two , two concertos for cello and flute, and approximately twenty-four songs.28

1806 would prove important for Danzi’s growing career. In that year, he received a commission from the Mannheim court for a new major work that would commemorate the

Queen’s name day on January 27, 1807. This commission served as a great honor for the composer, especially considering Elector Joseph’s strong preference for Italian opera and its increasing presence on the Munich stage. The score for the resulting opera, Iphigenie in Aulus has regrettably been lost, however based on the , the work was undoubtedly large with its many crowd scenes, large choruses, and theatrical emphasis. Despite its massive staging and effects, the opera did not succeed and was heavily criticized. A review in the Allgemeine

Musikalische Zeitung states, “the worthy artist did not find in the masses the approval he rightly could have anticipated.”29 There are many reasons why Iphigenie failed, but Peter Marquis

Alexander asserts that the most pervasive reason can be attributed to its tragic subject matter; after all, the opera was commissioned for a celebration.30

Deeply insecure in his abilities, and unhappy with his current salary, Danzi relocated to

Stuttgart in 1807 after the King of Württemburg offered him the position of Kapellmeister.

Shortly after his arrival to Stuttgart, Danzi met the younger Carl Maria von Weber, and the two

28 Ibid., 69.

29 Ibid., 73.

30 Ibid., 74.

5

formed a lasting friendship. Not much is known about Danzi’s compositional influence on the

Romantic composer, although Danzi served as vocal advocate for German opera and instilled much of his Germanic operatic ideology in the younger composer. While Weber was completing his singspiel Silvana, Danzi served as a profound source of musical encouragement,31 and as posited by John Warrack, may have even influenced the younger Weber with his treatment of the cello in the orchestra.32 In his autobiography from 1818, Weber writes fondly of Danzi and credits the “excellent” man for stimulating his creativity in completing Silvana.33 Weber eventually went on to study with Danzi’s former teacher, Vogler. In his The Life of an Artist,

Baron Max Maria von Weber writes of his father’s enduring admiration for Danzi:

Although Danzi was at least three and twenty years the senior of the young composer, the middle-aged man soon captivated the youth by his kindliness of heart and unaffected interest. … His affectionate counsel was of the greatest importance to the youth, not only in his musical tendencies, but in all relations with world outside the sphere of Art.34

In 1811, the King established an institute for music, and appointed Danzi as director and instructor of composition. Additionally, Danzi supervised instruction on wind instruments.35 His tenure in Stuttgart was brief, however, and in 1812 Danzi left the city for the position of

Kapellmeister in provincial Karlsruhe.

Immediately upon his arrival, Danzi assembled a list of duties that needed to be completed in order to salvage Karlsruhe’s failing musical scene. These duties included paying

31 Roland Würtz and Paul Corneilson, “Franz Danzi” in Grove Music Online. Accessed September 6, 2016.

32 In his book, Carl Maria von Weber (The MacMillan Company: New York, 1968), 76, John Warrack asserts that due to the “importance of the cello” part throughout the opera, Danzi’s influences may be present, as the composer himself was cellist, and his father was revered by German court orchestras for his abilities.

33 Carl Maria von Weber in Writings of German Composers, edited by Jost Hermand and James Steakley (New York: The Continuum Publishing Company, 1984), 101.

34 Max Maria von Weber, The Life of an Artist, 81.

35 Würtz and Corneilson, Danzi “Franz Danzi.”.

6

the court musicians an adequate fee to alleviate them from any external jobs, increasing the size of the orchestra, and a pension that would properly sustain orchestra widows. The court enthusiastically agreed to all of Danzi’s recommendations, and the changes were implemented almost immediately. Within Danzi’s first year of employment at the Karlsruhe court, the orchestra had grown to thirty-three players.36

In December 1813, the orchestra hired famed violinist Friedrich Ernst Fesca as its concertmaster. Bringing in such a respected musician increased the reputation of not only the orchestra, but Danzi’s compositional prospects. Around this same, Danzi became increasingly frustrated with the public’s growing ambivalence towards his operas, and he began to focus his energies elsewhere: chamber pieces that featured wind instruments. Between 1813 and 1814,

Breitkopf & Härtel published Danzi’s Horn Sonata in E-minor Op. 44, the potpourri for clarinet and orchestra Op. 45, two flute concertos, and a song collection. Additionally, he worked with publisher Johann André to release two orchestral masses, the Sonata for Two Pianos and Violin

Op. 42, and Sinfonia and Concertante for Flute and Clarinet, Op. 41, and the three quartets for bassoon and strings, Op. 40.37 Between 1817 and 1821, André would publish twenty-six works by Danzi, including his last two sets of woodwind quintets, Opp. 67 and 68. Throughout the remainder of his life, Danzi maintained a close relationship with André, as evidenced by extant correspondence between the two men.38

Danzi continued to promote Weber’s music until the end of his life. On December 26,

1821, he conducted Der Freischütz in Karlsruhe, only six months after the opera’s premier in

36 Alexander, 101.

37 Ibid., 105-6.

38 The letters exchanged between the composer and publisher have been compiled in Volkmar von Pechstaedt’s Franz Danzi – Briefwechsel 1785-1826.

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Berlin. Additionally, he conducted Weber’s Euryanthe in Karlsruhe approximately five months after its October 1823 premiere in . Danzi’s care and performance of Weber’s works in

Karlsruhe were undoubtedly designed to elevate the status of Karlsruhe as a growing musical center in Germany. Indeed, Danzi’s productions were highly praised, and for the performance or

Euryanthe, Weber wrote to the composer thanking him for his “love, care, and trouble.”39

Due to Danzi’s failing health, Josef Strauss was appointed as the Kapellmeister of

Karlsruhe in 1824. Throughout the following two years, Danzi’s health continued to decline, and on April 13, 1826, the composer succumbed to his illnesses. He was survived by his two children: Magdalena, who was a singer at the Mannheim court; and his son Carl, who worked for the Karlsruhe court.40 Almost immediately following his death, Danzi’s compositions faded into obscurity. According to Peter Marquis Alexander, performances of his operas ceased beginning in 1824 (while the composer was still alive), and his most famous opera, Die Mittersnachtstunde, was not performed again until 1976, with a revival performance in Neuburg, West Germany.41

39 Alexander, 119.

40 Ibid., 121.

41 Ibid., 5.

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Chapter 2

THE HISTORY AND DEVELOPMENT OF THE EARLY NINTEENTH CENTURY WIND QUINTET

The modern woodwind quintet stands as one of the few genres within art music whose origins remain relatively clear and uncontroversial. The first “true” quintets are those by Anton

Reicha (1770-1836) and Franz Danzi (1763-1826). While literature on the wind quintet remains limited, these claims regarding Reicha and Danzi’s importance permeate nearly all scholarship on the genre. Despite these ubiquitous claims, there is little if no attention given to the genre’s creation and standardization. Shortly following the deaths of Reicha and Danzi, the quintet fell mostly into obscurity, and it was not until 1879, when Paul Taffanel founded the Société de musique de chambre pour instruments á vent, that composers began to write for the genre once again.42 While the quintet’s genesis remains unquestionably clear, the history of wind chamber music is one that underwent significant changes and stylistic development.

This chapter traces the genre’s development beginning in the early fifteenth century by addressing the distinctions between various instruments which subsequently led to the creation of music for the chamber. This description is brief, and is followed by a discussion on the intentional distinctions between vocal and instrumental music, which ultimately led to the string quartet, and by the end of the eighteenth-century, the Harmonie—the direct predecessor to the modern wind quintet. Like much of the terminology used throughout the eighteenth century, the word “Harmonie” or “Harmoniemusik” requires clarification. For many European writers and composers throughout most of the eighteenth and first part of the nineteenth centuries,

Harmoniemusik was used interchangeably with other terms such as “divertimento,” “wind band,”

42 Nancy Toff, The Flute Book: A Complete Guide for Students and Performers, Third edition (New York: Oxford University Press), 247.

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and “military band.” Roger Hellyer credits this ambiguity to the misunderstandings that occur frequently in translation due to the lack of an adequate term.43 As late as 1879, Eduard Hanslick employed the term Harmoniemusik in his Geschichte des Concertwesens in Wien for a selection of compositions completed for his domestic wind quintet. In the same source, Hanslick refers to the group of wind players who performed Reicha’s wind quintets in Paris as “Harmonie-

Quintett.”44 According to Hellyer, the only time period in which the term did not need any sort of clarification was between 1760 and 1837, as this was the period in which employing a Harmonie was common practice for any member of the aristocracy. Because this type of performance medium was so popular, it eventually made its way to all members of society.45

Haydn and Mozart both composed extensively for Harmonie, which included divertimenti, serenades, and partitas. In the case of Mozart’s later divertimenti, it can be seen that the composer became increasingly experimental with his treatment of wind instruments, even occasionally liberating voices from their typical functions in wind chamber music. While the

Harmonie lacked the complete instrumentation of the modern wind quintet, the ensemble is the closest predecessor to the quintet. Additionally, the Harmonie achieved widespread success near the end of the eighteenth century, and due to various compositions that feature an increase in soloistic writing, composers and audiences began to perceive wind chamber music more seriously.

The earliest evidence of private music-making outside of European courts dates from the mid-fifteenth century, when the wealthiest members of society began to develop their own

43 Roger Hellyer, “Harmoniemusik: Music for Small Wind Band in the Late Eighteenth and Early Nineteeth Century,” Ph.D. diss., University of Oxford, 2.

44 Eduard Hanslick, “…ein Harmonie-Quintett von Reicha,” 254.

45 Hellyer, 3.

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musical culture in their private residences. Typically, these affluent households owned various instruments such as keyboards and lutes, and music lessons were often provided to the children of the growing French bourgeoisie.46 Court musicians from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries typically classified instruments either as haute (loud) or bass (soft). Smaller ensembles, which included singing and playing chansons, were classified as bassa musique, and typically those who performed in these ensembles were minstrels rather than courtiers. In most German cities of the fifteenth century, amateur musicians comprised a rather small, elite social group. These groups typically contained families of merchants, diplomats, and professional men, and their musical practices may have been influenced by what they knew of contemporaneous performance practices occurring within the courts. However, by 1500, due to the spread of humanism, attitudes towards music began to change, and the ability to create music had become an important social accomplishment for courtiers and aristocrats.47

During the early part of the sixteenth century, contemporary musical inscriptions identified pieces as being written “for voices or instruments,” ultimately indicating contemporary preferences for a separation between voice and instrument. Despite this distinct differentiation between music for voices or instruments, composers in France and Italy often left the exact instrumentation of these instrumental pieces up to the discretion the performers. German composers however, had a tendency to indicate which instruments were to be employed.48 In

France, this separation between vocal and instrumental writing was rooted mostly in aesthetic ideology, and until the early part of the eighteenth century, pure instrumental music was treated

46 Iain Fenlon, The Renaissance: From the 1470s to the End of the 16thCentury (London: Macmillan, 1989), 40-41.

47 Bashford, “Chamber Music,” in Grove Music Online, accessed January 28, 2017.

48 Rowen, Early Chamber Music, 2.

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with apprehension. Because it was entirely instrumental, its meanings could be misconstrued, and if the composer desired, it could serve as an abstract representation of feeling. Indeed, not until around 1750 did the French begin to view pure instrumental music as an adequate and appropriate means of expression.49

For early seventeenth-century musicians, music maintained three different primary functions: to prepare the listener for worship during church, to elicit emotion during a theater production, or to entertain within private residences, or chambers.50 The term “chamber music” first appeared in the seventeenth century by music theorist Marco Scacchi in his Breve Discorso sopra la Musica Moderna (1649). According to Scacchi, chamber music could subsequently be divided into three distinct categories: musica ecclesastica (church music), musica theatralis

(theater music), and musica cubicularis (chamber music).51 These particular categories were not indicative of the number of players, the number of movements and their varying types, or the formal designs of each movement. Rather, the designation of “chamber music” indicated the location of performance: within private residences. Of the term’s creation and meaning, Henry

Edward Krehbiel writes,

The term meant music designed especially for the delectation of the most eminent patrons of the art—the kings and nobles whose love for it gave it maintenance and encouragement. In the time of the Frankish kings, the word was applied to the room in the royal palace in which the monarch’s private property was kept. When royalty took up the cultivation of music it was a private, not as a court, function, and the concerts given for the entertainment of the royal family took place in the king’s chamber or private room.52

49 Rowen, 3.

50 Ibid., 5.

51 Mark A. Radice, Chamber Music: An Essential History (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2012), 1.

52 Henry Edward Krehbiel, How to Listen to Music: Hints and Suggestions to Untaught Lovers of the Art (London: John Murray, 1902), 45-46.

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These smaller, intimate locations afforded early seventeenth-century composers various acoustical advantages. By not having to worry about unpredictable reverberations and echoes found within the church and theater, composers were able to more freely exploit sounds from these smaller ensembles. As Ruth Halle Rowen writes in her book Early Chamber Music,

“composers could deal with fleeting subtleties instead of broadly sculptured gestures, with no fear that his nuances of line or harmony would blur or be entirely swallowed by the acoustics of a large auditorium.”53 Other acoustical advantages of these small intimate settings include the length of resonance being relatively short—that is only a short amount of time elapsing between the originating sound and point of audiation—as well as the feeling of musical connectivity between performer and listener.54

At the beginning of the eighteenth century, the term “musica da camera,” or “music for the chamber,” began to occur more frequently in theoretical writings such as Sébastien de

Brossard’s Dictionnaire de Musique (1703) and Johann Mattheson’s Das neu-eröffnete

Orchester (1713).55 Johann Gottfried Walther, in his Musicalisches Lexicon (1732), defined

Kammermusik as “that which is usually performed in the apartments of the great nobility,” and in

Meinrado Spiess’s Tractatus musicus compositorio-practicus (1745), the definition was repeated almost verbatim.56 These designations referred to vocal and instrumental compositions whose style and function differed from church and theatre works. Early eighteenth-century writers clearly took more into consideration regarding the style of instrumental chamber music than simply its location. For these writers, a small room did not automatically impose the musical

53 Rowen, 5.

54 Mojmír Dostál “Acoustics and Performance” in Das Bläserquintett, 41.

55 Christina Bashford, “Chamber Music,” accessed January 28, 2017.

56 Rowen, 6.

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characteristics of the chamber style; conversely, a chamber piece did not lose its chamber characteristics if performed outside of an intimate private location.57

For Spiess, the chamber style was identified by its fluency, delicacy, charm, and balance, as opposed to its opera and church music counterparts. Additionally, for Mattheson, the chamber style embodied several different categories, including the symphoniacus stylus, stylus madrigalescus, melismaticus stylus, canonicus stylus, and choraicus stylus. Pure instrumental music dealt mostly with the choraicus stylus, or “chorus style,” and the symphoniacus stylus, or

“symphonic style.” For Mattheson, the symphoniacus stylus was the most important style of chamber music. In his Das neu-eröffnete Orchestre, he states,

Simphonia means in general all that sounds together, but in particular it means a composition that is played on instruments alone. In this type of composition, a composer has complete freedom and is not bound to any number of grouping or performers, but may choose as many and whichever he pleases according to his own taste.58

By the middle of the eighteenth century, chamber music was no longer a musical medium exclusive to the aristocracy. While middle-class citizens were generally not invited into the halls of the nobility, the relatively low expense of chamber performance made it possible for the commoner to also enjoy these smaller musical performances.59 Europe maintained a strong predilection for music for wind instruments throughout the eighteenth century, and with regards to the second half of the century, Miroslav Hošek asserts in his book The Woodwind Quintet,

“No important event in the social life of the times would have been complete without the music of the so-called ‘Harmonien’.”60

57 Ibid., 8-9.

58 Ibid., 10.

59 Ibid., 7.

60 Miroslav Hošek, The Woodwind Quintet, Edited by Bernhard Brüchle (Grünwald: B. Brüchle, 1979), 20.

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During the eighteenth century, the size of any given Harmonie varied between cities, and as time progressed, their sizes grew. In the 1770s, the average size of a Harmonie sat at five or six members. Between the 1780s and 1790s, that number grew to eight or nine, and after the turn of the century, certain groups maintained twelve to sixteen players. Prince Schwarzenberg of

Vienna was the first to introduce the “full harmonie” or “harmonie octet” within his court, which was comprised of pairs of , , , and French horns. Interestingly,

Schwarzenberg chose to incorporate English horn as his second pair of treble instruments rather than clarinets. For reasons unknown, throughout the final quarter of the century, French

Harmonien were comprised mostly of six players with two clarinets, two bassoons, and two horns.61 As early as the 1740s, different regions held different preferences for wind instruments.

Eastern regions preferred the oboe, and Western regions had a preference for the clarinet.62

Initially, it may seem puzzling that the flute was absent from these ensembles, however, there are several reasons for this absence of the instrument. In early pieces written for the Harmonie, the flute could not project sound in the same way as its fellow instruments.63 Additionally, during the first half of the eighteenth century, the flute was an instrument highly favored by many virtuosos, and the simplistic compositions that were written for these Harmonien during much of the eighteenth-century lacked the virtuosity to which the instrument was accustomed.64 Indeed, during much of the eighteenth century, various freelance musicians even formed their own

Harmonien and played on street corners to earn what they could from individual passersby,

61 Hellyer, 4.

62 Ibid., 24.

63 Ibid., 24.

64 Hošek, 20.

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while other groups travelled throughout various cities. In his The Present State of Music in

Germany, Charles Burney writes of an encounter he had with a Harmonie,

There was music every day, during dinner, and in the evening at the inn where I lodged, which was the Golden Ox; but it was usually bad, particularly that of a band of instruments, which constantly attended the ordinary. This consisted of French horns, clarinets, hautboys, and bassoons; all too miserably out of tune, and I wished them a hundred miles off.65

Despite Prince Schwarzenberg’s establishment of the harmonie octet, it was not until

1782 when Emperor Joseph of Hapsburg, who had access to some of the finest Viennese musicians, appointed the first professionally recognized Harmonien. All of the members within

Joseph’s ensemble came from the renowned Burgtheater orchestra.66 According to Roger

Hellyer, it was during these final two decades of the eighteenth century when the Harmonie achieved its greatest acclaim. He attributes this to a variety of reasons, including the large amount of individuals who were members of the aristocracy. Always looking for ways to impress fellow affluent members of society, those in the aristocracy found the Harmonie to be a viable means of showing off wealth; therefore, the size of these private ensembles grew.

Additionally, during these final two decades of the century, composers and performers flocked to

Vienna due to its abounding artistry and numerous employment opportunities. Teeming with

Europe’s greatest musicians, Viennese Harmoniemusik was able to flourish.67

It was also during this time when employing pairs of treble instruments became standardized. There are a select few compositions prior to this time in which pairs of treble voices are present including Mozart’s K. 159b (K. 186) and K. 159d (K. 166). Both of these

65 Charles Burney, The Present State of Music in Germany, The Netherlands, and United Provinces, (New York: Broude, 1969), 331.

66 Hellyer, “Harmoniemusik” in Grove Music Online, accessed February 27, 2017.

67 Hellyer, 95-96.

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wind divertimenti feature pairs of oboes, English horn, and clarinet, in addition to the already standardized use of pairs of bassoons and horns.68 In these earlier divertimenti by Mozart, doubling the voices in thirds and sixths permeates the majority of the work, especially in the three treble voices. When they are not doubling, the clarinets typically assume the role of a second pair of horns, and sustain pitches for several measures, as was typical for the horns during these earlier wind compositions, seen in example 2.1.

Example 2.1, Mozart, Divertimento in C Major, K. 186/159b, mvt. 1, mm. 1-14

Due to its instrumentation and capabilities of the instruments, the Harmonie eventually became a new medium for opera transcriptions. Composers found the ranges and differences in tone between the oboe, clarinet, and bassoon as a viable means for reproducing various vocal registers.69 The first known instance of this transcription practice comes from Mozart. In a letter to his father, Mozart wrote of transcribing his opera Die Entführung aus dem Serail for a

68 Hellyer, 25 . 69 Hellyer, 26.

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Harmonie, although it was never completed.70 Near the middle of the 1780s, operatic transcriptions for the Harmonie had become standard practice, and many times those who were doing the transcribing were not composers, but rather the performers within these ensembles. By regularly performing operas, these performers developed an understanding of the music, as well as the capabilities of their instruments, and how to idiomatically write for them. All of these factors were essential the flourishing of Viennese Harmoniemusik.71

When it came to the treatment of instruments within early Harmoniemusik, composers were unsure of which voice to prioritize first. In many cases, composers chose to liberate the bassoon or horn from the simple bass line it often provided in wind music. In these instances, the bassoon and horn were provided a solo tenor voice. Additionally, composers would release each pair of instruments from uniform rhythms and subsequent parallel motion. By default, these voices became increasingly independent from another.72 Haydn was one of the first to emancipate instruments from their roles in his divertimenti for winds instruments, perhaps most pointedly with his treatment of the horn. Haydn worked for Count Ferdinand Maximilian Franz

Graf von Morzin during the 1760s, and it was Morzin who was responsible for establishing one of the first ensembles in central Europe exclusive to wind instruments.73 As a result, Haydn had access to a set of talented horn players in the court’s Harmonie, which may explain his decision to emancipate the horn first from its typical roles in wind music. Example 2.2 is taken from the

Andante in his Divertimento in GM, Hob. II/3, completed around 1760—precisely when he was

70 Ibid., 114.

71 Ibid., 96.

72 Ibid., 25.

73 Hellyer, 96.

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working for Morzin. In this movement, the horn is provided with thematic material at the beginning and ending of the movement—a responsibility seldom given to horns in earlier

Harmoniemusik.

Example 2.2, Haydn, Divertimento in G Major, Hob. II/3, mvt. 3, mm. 1-25

Much of the writing for the horns and bassoons in Haydn’s divertimenti is done in parallel thirds and sixths. When writing for these instruments in this particular setting, it appears as though Haydn was unconcerned with contrapuntal issues like “fauxbourdon” effects. Rather, he idiomatically wrote for the instruments in the most comfortable parts of their ranges, even at

19

the expense of voice exchange, which undoubtedly affected the texture, and resulting sonorities.74 Example 2.3, from the trio in his Divertimento in C Major Hob, II/7, contains example of expansive spacing, which results in distinct timbres in ranges that are comfortable for each of the instruments. The oboes are separated by an octave or greater for the majority of this trio. Additionally, with the first bassoon and second oboe playing the same pitch on various occasions, innovative sonorities are produced. Indeed, while Haydn is conservative in having the bassoons move mostly in parallel thirds, he manages to produce new timbral effects with the bassoons and oboes playing in a register that is very exposed due to the absented horn for the entirety of the trio.

Example 2.3, Haydn, Divertimento in C Major, Hob. II/7, mvt. 4, “Trio”

Mozart completed five wind divertimenti for the Archbishop’s court at Salzburg during the mid-1770s.75 Like all of Haydn’s divertimenti, they are written for three pairs of instruments

(two oboes, two bassoons, and two horns). While all of Haydn’s wind divertimenti are comprised

74 Hellyer, 99.

75 Some scholars have deemed K. 271g spurious.

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of five movements, Mozart’s divertimenti contain four, however they are noticeably longer than those of Haydn. While Haydn did indeed make strides to liberate instruments from their typical functions, as well as to provide sonorous for the treble instruments that were not transcribed from opera , Mozart took individual independence even further. Unlike the bassoon parts in Haydn’s divertimenti, which move exclusively in pairs, Mozart’s bassoon parts become increasingly independent from one another. In many cases, the first bassoon functions as a solo tenor voice mingling in the same register as the horn and oboe, creating a and sonority not heard in previous settings. Occasionally, the bassoon, which typically provides a simple basso continuo, is relieved of its harmonic duties and instead joins middle-ranged voices, as seen in example 2.4. In this movement, the first bassoon surpasses the horn in register, and participates in the presentation of thematic material.

Example 2.4, Mozart, Divertimento in Bb, K. 270, mvt. 2, mm. 1-8

The fact that both of these compositions are called “divertimenti” carries many implications. For the eighteenth-century composer, “Divertimento” did not designate genre, but rather indicated a composition for solo instruments. In this sense, it cannot necessarily be considered a transitional form between the Baroque dance suite and the early Classical

21

symphony.76 While the term varied in meaning until around 1780, as it was often used interchangeably with other title designations such as “serenade,” “partita,” and “Tafelmusik,” it remained exclusive to pure instrumental music performed within chamber settings.77 Regarding its function within these smaller chamber settings, according to Hubert Unverricht and Cliff

Eisen, the divertimento often served as light background music for dinners, in addition to being commonly performed outdoors at various social gatherings. Heinrich Koch defined the divertimento as being relatively devoid of polyphony and (in opposition to the sonata) lacking a full development section. Because divertimenti were often performed as background music,

Koch suggested, their purpose was to please the ear, rather than to express different shades of emotion.78

These descriptions of late eighteenth-century divertimento may help us to understand wind chamber music’s inability to achieve immediate acclaim like its direct counterpart—the string quartet. By this time, Haydn had already published his Op. 33 quartets, and was writing in his self-described “new and special manner.” This approach, as described by Cliff Eisen, involved the “consistent application of thematische Arbeit, the reintroduction of a light, popular touch, and the integration of the movements of varying character into a convincing whole.”79

Indeed, composers of Harmoniemusik during the late eighteenth century were not concerned with writing light “table music” that contained varying character that culminates in a

“convincing whole.”

76 James Webster, “Towards a History of Viennese Chamber Music in the Early Classical Period,” Journal of American Musicological Society 27/2: 212-247, 212.

77 Hubert Unverricht and Cliff Eisen, “Divertimento” in Grove Music Online, accessed March 21, 2017.

78 Ibid., accessed March 21, 2017.

79 Cliff Eisen, “String Quartet,” in Grove Music Online, accessed March 21, 2017.

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May scholars have employed “divertimento” as the generic term for all outdoor music during the eighteenth century. However, in his work on Mozart’s serenades, Günter Hausswald treats the serenade most generally. Both of these designations were used for pure instrumental music, however in the later part of the eighteenth century, the serenade contained more soloistic writing, as well as increased polyphony in comparison to contemporaneous divertimenti.

Unverricht and Eisen attribute the serenade as the primary influence of later chamber music during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.80

During the 1780s, the most respected Harmonie in Vienna belonged to the Emperor.

According the court orchestra’s records, the eight-member Harmonien included Georg Tribensee and Wendt (oboes), Johann and Anton Stadler (clarinets), Kauzner and Drobney (bassoons), and

Rupp and Eisen (horns). Unsurprisingly, all of these players were also members of the

Burgtheater opera orchestra. By April 1782, the Emperor’s Harmonien had been established.

Unlike other Harmonien during this time, the Emperor’s ensemble provided public performances. On April 6 1783, the group played a partita written by Wendt that was performed between the two parts of the concert, given by the Wiener Tonkünstler Societät. The program referred to the group as Harmoniemusik, although it did not provide the names of the performers.

Roger Hellyer asserts that there is a very strong possibility that this was the first public appearance of the Harmonie, because published references to the ensemble only begin to occur after this date.81 The first known review of a Harmonie is found in Carl Friedrich Cramer’s

Magazin der Musik from 1783. In the review Cramer writes,

Among all kinds of musical news which has been related to me, one piece that was to me especially remarkable concerned a group of musicians organized by the

80 Hubert Unverricht and Cliff Eisen, “Serenade” in Grove Music Online, accessed March 21, 2017.

81 Hellyer, “Harmoniemusik,” 121.

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Kaiser, the sound of whose wind instruments has achieved a new high level of perfection.82

Perhaps the most significant precursor to the wind quintet is Mozart’s Serenade for 13

Instruments in Bb, K. 361/370a the “Gran Partita.” Completed in 1781, this seven-movement work is written for two oboes, two clarinets, two basset horns, four horns, two bassoon, and one contrabassoon, clearly employing an ensemble significantly larger than any contemporary

Harmonie.83 Aside from military music, it was incredibly rare to find a composition from this time written for more than six wind instruments. It is unknown why Mozart completed the work; if he wrote it for a specific event, regrettably all records have been lost. Its only known performance during Mozart’s lifetime occurred on March 23, 1784 when four movements were performed in a concert given by Anton Stadler. The work begins with a slow introduction that is highly orchestral in its scoring. In example 2.5 the six treble voices assume the role of the first and second violins in mm. 6-9. Additionally, the horns maintain their typical roles within a wind ensemble by sustaining pitches for several measures, while the bassoons and contrabassoon provide the bass.

82 This translation is taken from Roger Hellyer’s dissertation on p. 121.

83 Roger Hellyer discusses the controversy surrounding the exact dates of composition in his article, “Mozart’s ‘Gran Partita’ and the Summer of 1781” published by Eighteenth Century Music in March, 2011. Daniel Leeson posits that due to the stylistic similarities in the slow introduction of this piece and those of two works from 1784 (the quintet for piano and winds K.452 and the K.454), the piece was actually completed around 1784. However, after a series of autograph studies, Hellyer asserts that the piece was in fact completed during the summer of 1781.

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Example 2.5, Mozart, “Gran Partita,” K. 361/370a, mvt. 1, mm. 5-9

The sixth movement, a theme and variations, includes heightened contrapuntal activity and proved to be the prime vehicle for Mozart to showcase his innovative treatment of instruments within an ensemble exclusive to winds, most pointedly with his treatment of timbre and sonority. Theme and variation movements were common in string chamber works during this time, however this type of movement was seldom used by composers in earlier wind divertimenti. The theme and variation movement from this work displays Mozart’s exploration with the timbres of each instrument in this wind ensemble. As seen in example 2.6, the phrases are often separated between different voices, not close in timbre or register. In this first variation,

Mozart maintains a relatively thin texture, so as to heighten the surprise when voices suddenly change. The first variation is initiated by the first oboe, with a light accompaniment in the second oboe, basset horns, and two bassoons; before the first bassoon joins the oboe in m. 3. The second half of the phrase is initiated by the first oboe and first basset horn, already a thicker texture than

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the opening phrase, in addition to the highly contrasting timbre. Instead of incorporating variety by means of , Mozart is instead implementing variety through unconventional orchestration and instrumentation.

Example 2.6, Mozart, “Gran Partita,” K. 361/370a, mvt. 6, Var. 1, mm. 1-14

Mozart continues to explore the timbral and technical abilities of the instruments as the movement progresses, especially with the bass voices. In example 2.7, the bassoons, which are typically responsible for maintaining a simple and clear bass line, are instead providing the bass line, however in arpeggiated sixteenth notes, above a relatively thin texture.

Example 2.7, Mozart, “Gran Partita,” mvt. 6, Var. 3, mm. 1-14

Mozart continues to explore the timbral and technical abilities of the instruments as the movement progresses, especially with the bass voices. In example 2.7, the bassoons, which are

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typically responsible for maintaining a simple and clear bass line, are instead providing the bass line, however in arpeggiated sixteenth notes, above a relatively thin texture.

Example 2.7, Mozart, “Gran Partita,” mvt. 6, Var. 3, mm. 26-40

Mozart not only explores the timbral qualities the mid-range voices in conjunction with the outer voices. Throughout the fourth variation, Mozart showcases the numerous timbral effects that can be produced by the often neglected mid-range wind instruments, as seen in example 2.8. In this example, the variation is initiated by the clarinets and bassoons; a sonority that has not yetbeen highlighted so distinctly within the work. The texture thickens in m. 9 with the arpeggiating basset horns, while the outer voices sustain pitches for several measures. This texture is maintained until the second repeat in m. 20. In earlier pieces written for the Harmonie, the middle voices remained subservient to treble voices, and often provide a simple accompaniment, or mirror the melody in parallel thirds and sixths. However, in this example,

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Mozart provides impressive arpeggiations that showcase the basset horn’s technical and timbral capabilities.

Example 2.8, Mozart “Gran Partita,” mvt. 6, Var. 4, mm. 8-19

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As previously discussed, the flute was excluded from Harmoniemusik, as many eighteenth century composers and performers deemed the setting inappropriate for an instrument that had achieved virtuosic acclaim. Indeed, it was not until the nineteenth century when the flute began to regularly appear in wind chamber music, however the earliest known work for flute, oboe, clarinet, English horn and bassoon is by Franz Anton Rössler (Rossetti) (1750-1792). Its date of completion remains unknown. However, the majority of Rosetti’s wind chamber music was composed mostly between 1773 and 1789. During his time, Rossetti was recognized by his contemporaries for his wind chamber music, which included Harmoniemusik, divertimenti, and partitas.84 Indeed, Rosetti never wrote a piece with the true instrumentation of the modern wind quintet. The first known compositions that contain this instrumentation are the three wind quintets by Nikolaus Schmitt, which are mentioned by Fétis in his Biographie universelle des musiciens et bibliographie générale de la musique as being published by Pleyel in Paris.85

Regrettably, the scores for these quintets have been lost, therefore Schmitt’s treatment of the ensemble remains unknown.

While wind chamber music was gaining popularity at the onset of the nineteenth century, it was far behind the increasing popularity of the string quartet. As early as 1804-5, Ignaz

Schuppanzigh presented the first series of public string quartet concerts in Vienna. The series discontinued after three seasons, however scholars believe the ensemble that performed these concerts was the same group that premiered Beethoven’s Op. 59 quartets in 1807.86 Indeed,

84 Udo Sirker, “Die Entwicklung des Bläserquintetts in der ersten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts,” Ph.D. diss., Regensburg, 1968, 24.

85 Francois-Joseph Fétis, Biographie universelle des musiciens et bibliographie générale de la musique, (Bruxelles: Leroux, 1835), 113.

86 K.M. Knittel “Ignaz Schuppanzigh,” in Grove Music Online, accessed March 20, 2017.

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while wind chamber music was just beginning to gain popularity, the string quartet was already beginning to appear on concert stages.

Anton Reicha completed his first wind quintet in 1810, however its first performance was a failure, and the composer refrained from writing for the genre for another four years.87 In April

1814, while working at the Paris Conservatory, Reicha completed his Exercices des Elèves for his students, Guillou, Pechignier, Vogt, Colin Jeune und Henry, who were all wind instrumentalists at the conservatory. The pieces within this collection achieved such acclaim that according to one of Reicha’s students, Jean-Georges Kastner, the Parisian audience wanted to hear the “new music” everywhere.88 While Danzi was in Karlsruhe during the time, it is reasonable to posit that he was aware of Reicha’s success with the wind quintet, and the Parisian audience’s hunger for more of the genre. Danzi completed his first set of quintets, Op. 56 between 1819 and 1820 and sent them to Paris for publication. He finished his second two collections, Opp. 67 and 68 between 1823 and 1824, which were then published in Offenbach.

Wind chamber music underwent significant changes throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. For much of these centuries, it was treated as a “light” performance medium that provided pleasing background music at aristocratic social events during the entire seventeenth century, and much of the eighteenth. Although Emperor Joseph established the first professionally recognized Harmonien in 1782, and the first known performance of Mozart’s highly successful “Gran Partita” came only two years later, it appears as though audiences were already too enamored with the growing popularity of the string quartet, which may have inhibited the growth of Harmoniemusik during the final decades of the century.

87 Sirker, 25.

88 Ibid., 26.

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Composers continued to write Harmoniemusik until the 1830s. However, a return to increased sophisticated writing for wind chamber groups did not occur until Reicha’s first wind quintet in 1810, before returning to the genre once again in 1814. Due to his access to some of the greatest wind musicians in France, Reicha was able to write compositions for the ensemble in ways not seen previously. Although Danzi was writing in the same genre during the same time, conditions in Karlsruhe were quite different than those in Paris. As will be discussed in the next chapter, these conditions shaped not only the production, but also the subsequent scholarly reception of Danzi’s quintets.

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Chapter 3

DANZI’S NINE WOODWIND QUINTETS

Because nearly all of his music was published during his lifetime, Danzi experienced the benefit of widespread dissemination of his pieces. Due to his frequent publishing, Danzi interacted with some of Germany’s leading publishers, especially Johann Anton André (1775-

1842). Early in his childhood, André took violin lessons with Ferdinand Fränzi and eventually relocated to Mannheim to receive formal composition lessons from G.J. Vollweiler. After his father’s death in 1799, he took over the renowned publishing firm, and beginning 1800, he began his lifework—creating a chronological catalogue of Mozart’s works and manuscripts. Although

André never completed the monumental task, Wolfgang Plath reveres the publisher as “the father of Mozart research.”89 Because of his extensive research on Mozart and his manuscripts, André garnered a deep understanding of the Viennese Classical tradition. Around 1814, André began to steadily publish chamber works of varying types, publishing at least thirteen pieces by 1825. His profile as chamber music publisher undoubtedly piqued the interest of Danzi, who by this time was expending nearly all of his energy on chamber compositions.90

It is not known when Danzi first came into contact with the publisher; however, the two maintained a written correspondence from 1819 through 1824, after the composer had finally settled down in Karlsruhe. Their letters provide invaluable insight into their relationship, Danzi’s thoughts and frustrations on the current trends in music, as well as insight into Danzi as an individual. In a letter to André from December 1822, Danzi eagerly asks the publisher for his

89 Wolfgang Plath, “Johann André,” in Grove Music Online, accessed February 15, 2017.

90 Alexander, “The Chamber Music of Franz Danzi,” 130-131.

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opinion on the Op. 56 quintets. In his response letter, André praises the composer for his compositional abilities by stating:

If you once again write quartets or quintets for wind instruments, I too will make an attempt to publish them. I find that your quintets are preferred to Reicha’s since Reicha does not have enough melodies.91

Danzi first sent the Op. 56 quintets to Schlesinger in Berlin, who then sent them to his son’s publishing firm in Paris, where they were subsequently edited by Reicha, and published with his edits and corrections. In response to Reicha’s favor, Danzi gratefully dedicated his first three quintets to the composer, as indicated on the title page in figure 3.1. André would go on to publish Danzi’s final two sets of quintets, Op. 67 and Op. 68, sometime between 1823 and 1824.

Because his musical training blends the Classical Mannheim tradition with the more progressive harmonic practices of his mentor Abbé Vogler, the first movements of Danzi’s wind quintets are formally and stylistically innovative. Indeed, his formal procedures are consistent with his contemporaries including Haydn, Beethoven and Schubert, although in the context of different genres. Within this chapter, I will make formal comparisons to the first movements of

Beethoven’s Op. 73 “Emperor Concerto,” and Op. 13 “Pathetiqué.” In order to provide context for Danzi’s three-key exposition in Op. 68 no. 3, I will also discuss the first movement of

Schubert’s Piano Trio, Op. 100 (D. 929). Indeed, by this time, genres for the piano, such as the trio and concerto, had achieved artistic acclaim and Danzi’s decision to emulate various formal procedures in works for the instrument may indicate his attempt at elevating wind chamber

91 Pechstaedt,“Wenn Sie einmal wieder Quart[etten] oder Quint:[etten] für Blaßinstrumente schreiben, so will auch ich alsdann einmal mit deren Herausgebung einen Versuch mach. Daß Ihre Quintetten den Reichaschen vorgezogen warden, finde ich begreiflich, indem R[eicha] zu viel künstelt, und von Hausa us zu wenig Melodien besitzt…,” 218.

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music.92 For the formal analyses, I will follow the approaches articulated by James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy in their Elements of Sonata Theory: Norms, Types, and Deformations in the

Figure 3.1, Title page of Op. 56 with dedication to Reicha

92 For his unwavering assistance, I wish to thank Dr. Richard Anatone who, throughout the course of completing these formal analyses, provided me with invaluable insight and guidance.

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Late-Eighteenth-Century Sonata. The decision to employ their methods is due to their classifications of established “norms” from the early part of the century, as well as the

“deformations” found in late eighteenth-century compositions. The described “deformations” are typically indicative of the more progressive procedures that paved the way for the Romantic era.

Indeed, although Danzi’s quintets were composed within only six years of one another, they exhibit the types of formal expansion and manipulation described so well in Elements of Sonata

Theory.

The first movements of the earlier quintets, specifically those of Op. 56 remain close to the eighteenth-century binary conception of sonata form, and fall into Hepokoski and Darcy’s

“Type 2” sonata classification.93 Despite what many of his colleagues were doing to expand and manipulate the increasingly varying formal procedures, Danzi seldom participated in extreme exploitation of typical sonata procedures of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, although there is evidence of formal expansion within these quintets. The first movement of Op.

68 no. 3 is perhaps the outlier regarding form, as it contains a variance of a three-keyed exposition, which shall be discussed later in this chapter. For many students of the Mannheim school, sonata form was perceived as a tonal structure that was dramatized and cultivated by various thematic functions and recurrences. For the eighteenth-century composer, this procedure involved a two-part structure, each of which is subsequently divided in two by tonal musical occurrences with harmonic implications.94

With the exceptions of Op. 67 no. 3 and Op. 68 no. 3, which are in a monothematic sonata form, all of the first movements contain the same formal structure: a tonally emphatic,

93 James Hepokoski and Warren Darcy, Elements of Sonata Theory (New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 16- 18.

94 Alexander, 191-199.

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and strongly articulated iteration of the primary theme (P), a less harmonically stable transition towards the secondary theme (T), a tonally stable secondary theme that contrasts the character of the first theme (S), and a closing section that reiterates the established harmony (C). In Op. 56 no. 1 and 2, this entire section is thus repeated, and the second section maintains the same formal organization however, development is manifest in harmonic, and textural variety. Indeed, this two-part formal structure within these first two quintets is conservative, and Danzi’s employment of the procedures is indicative of his traditional Mannheim tutelage. Figure 3.2 provides a formal outline of the first movement from Op. 56 no. 1.

Figure 3.2 Formal Outline of Op. 56, no. 1

On the other hand, the chromatic mediant relationship between the primary theme in the

A section and its first iteration in the B section foreshadows forthcoming Romantic harmonic practices. This relationship is foreshadowed in the primary theme itself, seen in example 3.1. On the downbeat of m. 2, the lowered chromatic neighbor (C#) in the oboe foreshadows the reiteration of the primary theme in the B section, however respelled enharmonically to Db, at m. 75. Within this singular pitch, Danzi provides a sense of harmonic cohesion between both statements of the A and B sections.

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Example 3.1, Danzi, Op. 56 no. 1, mm. 1-8 (A Section) mm. 75-82 (B Section)

This type of harmonic procedure is reflective of his compositional training under Vogler. In his

Handbuch fur Harmonielehre (1802), Vogler dedicates an entire section to “multiple function chords” or “Mehrdeutigkeit.” This harmonic procedure involves tonal occurrences and connections between chords in one key to those in another, including various enharmonic links, like the one seen in example 3.1.95

Similar formal procedures occur in Op. 56, no. 2, when the primary theme is reiterated in the B section, albeit in this case, on the minor subdominant. A formal outline for this movement is located in figure 3.3.

95 An excellent reduction and discussion of Vogler’s Mehrdeutigkeit can be found in Floyd K. Grave and Margaret G. Grave’s In Praise of Harmony: The Teachings of Abbé (University of Nebraska Press: Lincoln and London, 1987), 34-49.

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Figure 3.3, Formal Outline of Op. 56 no. 2

In this movement, the reiteration of the primary theme in the B section is highly dissonant, with half diminished seventh chords that go unresolved, however propelling the phrase to the downbeat of m. 77, in which the composer finally establishes this second statement of the primary theme in Fm. Example 3.2 provides the primary theme in its original presentation in the

A section, as well as its restatement in the B section, which is highly chromatic and harmonically unstable.

Example 3.2, Danzi, Op. 56 no. 2, mm. 1-8 (A section)

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Example 3.2 (continued), mm. 69-76 (B Section)

While there is no viable explanation, and the composer spoke of the matter, it is interesting to note that the first movement of the last quintet in each collection begins with a slow introduction. The slow introduction to Op. 67 no. 3, seen in example 3.3, bears a striking textural similarity to the introduction of Mozart’s K. 361. While an excerpt from the opening of the serenade can be found in example 2.5 of this document, it has been provided on the next page as well, in order to provide the reader with visual clarity. In both of these examples, the composers have increased the homophonic texture, by employing most of the ensemble are using the same rhythmic values for their slow introductions. Additionally, both composers have lessened the emphasis on the downbeat: Danzi begins the descent on beat 2, and displaces the

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Example 3.3a, Danzi, Op. 67 no. 3, mm. 1-8

Example 3.3b, Mozart, “Gran Partita,” K. 361/370a, mvt. 1, mm. 5-9

descent by an octave, putting further emphasis on the second beat. Similarly, Mozart begins the descent on the upbeat, before continuing the phrase.

It is unknown if Danzi ever heard a performance of this serenade, or ever came into contact with the manuscripts. However, after the death of his father in 1799, André inherited his father’s publishing firm, which included the majority of Mozart’s original manuscripts.96

Therefore, it is possible that the composer may have seen Mozart’s earlier writing for winds and

96 Plath, “Johann Anton Andre,” in Grove Music Online, accessed February 20th, 2017.

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his treatment of the instruments for slow introductions for pieces written solely for wind ensemble.

While Danzi remained close to the binary concept of sonata form, the first movement from Op. 56 no. 3 exhibits significant formal expansion when compared to the other two quintets within this collection. In addition to a slow introduction, Danzi incorporates a developmental section at the opening of the second half. While it initially begins like a reiteration of the A section (per Danzi’s treatment of the other two quintets in this collection), he denies any type of clear , and instead begins to dissolve the theme into smaller fragmented material, true to thematic development, ultimately distinguishing this piece from the other two quintets in the collection, which are solely harmonically developed. Figure 3.4 displays the composer’s expansion of his typically conservative approach to binary form. With the exception of Op. 68 no. 3, the other five quintets in Opp. 67 and 68 all follow this sonata approach, with a clear developmental section.

Figure 3.4, Formal Outline of Op. 56 no. 3

Instances of mixed or ambiguously functioning sections permeate these quintets, especially in regards to Danzi’s treatment of introductory material and transitions. An early example of functional ambiguity occurs at the end of the primary theme zone in Op. 56 no. 3, located in example 3.4. The perfect authentic cadence in m. 44 in combination with the sudden change in texture, indicates the beginning of an independent transition that also contains a new transitional theme in the flute. However, Danzi denies any type of harmonic interest or

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modulation. Instead, the true transition begins in m. 52. While he remains in F for a few measures, the texture has indeed shifted once again, but Danzi begins to sequence and modulate in m. 60, which he failed to do in the apparent transition at m. 44.

The primary theme in Op. 67 no. 1 also presents several issues of functional ambiguity.

The first eight measures seem to be nothing more than introductory material, that ends on a half cadence in m. 8. Due to the immediate change in articulation and character, it appears as though the primary theme does not begin until m. 9 in the oboe. However, this introductory material is presented once again at the beginning of the B section, true to Danzi’s binary treatment, ultimately adding previously unforeseen importance to this material. However, if the primary theme is indeed the material that begins in m. 9, when it occurs once again in the “apparent recap,” it returns on the dominant, rather than the tonic, negating a true sonata form

Example 3.4, Danzi Op. 56 no. 3, mm. 42-66

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Example 3.4 (continued), True transition located at m. 52

recapitulation. By composing a theme that is so harmonically and thematically ambiguous, Danzi manages to avoid sonata form harmonic implications, especially with his treatment of the introduction. Unlike his previous first movements, Danzi negates tonal assurance in this primary theme as well. The first half of the primary theme ends in m. 9 on an imperfect authentic cadence, and the continuation phrase surpasses any tonal definition by quickly dissolving into the transition, which begins on a half cadence in D, in m. 8. Hepokoski and Darcy describe this occurrence as “underdetermining” the tonic, and while this procedure is neither exclusive to

Danzi or the time period, it does seem to follow the composer’s writing of a first movement that undermines stability in a variety of ways.

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Op. 67 no. 2 contains another instance of thematic ambiguity within the development section. The sudden insertion of a new theme in the development, as seen in example 3.5 would have been surprising to most early-nineteenth century listeners. However, this new theme prevents a tragic recapitulation—a concept discussed by Timothy Jackson.97 This movement begins in Em, and the secondary theme occurs in the expected relative major, however at the end of the development, Danzi provides a new theme in the horn, in EM. Due to its lyricism, the theme could very well serve as some type of secondary theme. The true secondary theme returns at the beginning of the recapitulation, in Em. Because they occur so closely together, in addition

Example 3.5, Danzi, Op. 67 no. 2, mm. 162-181

97 In “The Tragic Reversed Recapitulation in German Classical Tradition,” Journal of 40, no. 1 (Spring 1996): 61-111, Jackson discusses the various “abnormal” formal procedures executed by German composers of the Classical and Romantic periods. According to Jackson, a “tragic” sonata form is one typically written in a minor key, and upon the recapitulation, the secondary theme is presented first, in a minor key, as opposed to the major key in which it was initially presented.

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to the harmonic parallelism between the two themes, Danzi lessens the harmonic impact of the secondary theme in Em. Indeed, while the incorporation of the horn melody initially seems arbitrary and ambiguous, it serves an important harmonic function within the entirety of the movement.

The first movements of Op. 67 no. 3 and 68 no. 3 are the only movements that contain a monothematic sonata structure, although both of these movements do contain a “P-Based S” that quickly dissolve.98 Therefore, for reasons of clarity, when discussing the formal procedures of these first movements, there will be reference to a secondary area, rather than a secondary theme.

Both of these first movements contain slow introductions, however the slow introduction of Op.

67 no. 3 bears significance within the overall form of the first movement, unlike that of Op. 68 no. 3. Regarding its formal structure, Op. 67 no. 3 is quite similar to the first movement of

Beethoven’s No. 5, Op. 13 “Pathétique.” Completed in 1798, this sonata was well disseminated throughout much of Germany by the time Danzi began working on the Op. 67 quintets. Unlike Beethoven, who inserted the slow introduction at the onset of the development in his piano sonata, Danzi refrains from this procedure. However, he does insert a final restatement of the introduction at m. 97, and while it initially seems stark, it is harmonically prepared with a dominant-tonic resolution. Indeed, Beethoven’s ground breaking exploitation of the slow introduction received much attention, and Danzi’s similar treatment in this first movement may be one instance in which the composer was attempting to elevate the perception of early nineteenth-century wind chamber music.

In regards to his formal procedures, Op. 68 no. 3 contains the greatest instance of functional ambiguity. As previously mentioned, this movement is monothematic, however unlike

98 Hepokoski and Darcy, Elements of Sonata Theory, 135-136.

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any of the other first movements within his quintets, Danzi writes a three-key exposition—a formal procedure found in the first movements of Beethoven’s “Emperor” concerto, and

Schubert’s Piano Trio Op. 100 (D. 929).99 Although the first three movements of Schubert’s Trio were completed one year after Danzi’s death, Deborah Kessler highlights the formal similarities between this work and the first movement of Beethoven’s “Emperor” concerto; completed in

1809, approximately a decade before Danzi wrote his first collection of quintets. According to

Kessler, Schubert’s three-key expositions and the solo exposition of Beethoven’s concerto share: an opening formal design that suggests three groups, a contrasting section that serves as a transitional group, and finally a dominant group that sounds like closing material.100 All of these characteristics are present within the first exposition of Danzi’s Op. 68 no. 3. Figure 3.5 provides a table with an outline of this formal approach.

Figure 3.5, Outline of Three-Key Exposition in Op. 68 no. 3

LOCATION KEY AREA

Group 1 mm. 33-46 DM

Group 2 mm. 46-58 DM

Group 3 mm. 59-82 FM

Contrasting section that mm. 83-102 Bbm serves as a transitional group Closing material in the key of mm. 103-125 FM the dominant

99 For the analyses of these two pieces, I am indebted to Deborah Kessler’s, “Schubert’s Late Three-Key Expositions: Influence, Design, and Structure,” Ph.D. diss., The City University of New York, 1996.

100 Further discussion can be found on pp. 186-196.

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Kessler highlights the preoccupation with bVI in Schubert’s trio and Beethoven’s concerto. Indeed, it appears that within this movement, Danzi maintains a preoccupation with IV.

The recapitulation occurs in m. 159, in D, and instead of providing the secondary theme in the correct key, Danzi writes the theme in Gm (IV) before returning once again to D at the ESC.

Additionally, as indicated in the table above, from mm. 59-125 there is the subdominant relationship between Group 3, the contrasting section, and the closing of the exposition. Initially, it may appear that the first statement of the primary theme in D was a “false start,” however it is harmonically necessary for the recapitulation, when the composer returns to D. Interestingly, this movement is the only first movement within the quintets that does not end on a perfect authentic.

Rather, Danzi ends with an unexpected plagal cadence—something not found in any of the other first movements, further emphasizing Danzi’s seeming preoccupation with IV in this movement.

In terms of which voice he employed for the initial statement of the primary theme, Danzi had a preference for using the flute and oboe simultaneously. Danzi’s choice to employ treble voices is unsurprising, especially in regards to the flute and his preference for the instrument.101

Additionally, the flute’s virtuosity had already been well-established. As mentioned in the previous chapter, unlike earlier Harmoniemusik from the mid to late-eighteenth century, these quintets were the first compositions for wind chamber ensemble to feature the flute, precisely because of the soloistic and virtuosic writing. What is new is not Danzi’s treatment of the flute per se but rather his use of the instrument in this type of wind setting. In these movements, when

Danzi writes for a soloist, the theme is presented above a thin, homophonic texture. True to the

101 In his article, “On Finding Franz Danzi’s Flute,” Peter Oliver writes of his experience in discovering that the flute he had purchased in 1976 was made for Clementi by Thomas Prowse in 1822—shortly after Danzi completed his first set of wind quintets. The instrument was inscribed with “F.D.” and upon further investigation by the author and staff at the museum of the Royal College of Music discovered the instrument’s original cartouche on the lid had etched in its side, “Franz Danzi: To Order of Chas. Nicholson, No. 1837.” It remains unclear whether or not the instrument was given to Danzi, or if the composer had requested a newly redesigned flute that could showcase his idiomatic and virtuosic writing for the instrument, in this new setting.

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classical tradition, Danzi’s phrases are clearly delineated and symmetrical in structure, and he employs both period and sentence structures equally. Op. 67 no. 2 contains the only instance of a primary theme that contains an extension, that nearly doubles the primary zone’s length.

There are, however, several instances in which the composer embeds tonal instability within the primary theme. One example occurs in Op. 56 no. 1 which contains a primary theme in a period structure. Instead of providing a stable half cadence at the end of the antecedent phrase, Danzi writes an imperfect authentic cadence. Another example occurs in Op. 68 no. 3, when the composer presents the primary theme above a dominant on the pedal, and ends the phrase on a I 6/4 chord.

The only instance of a primary theme that denies thematic clarity and instead dissolves into the transition occurs in Op. 67 no. 1, seen in example 3.6. Mm. 9-16 contain the CBI, and while the primary theme’s continuation phrase begins in a stable manner, it quickly dissolves into Danzi’s typical transitional style: quick scalar passages that alternate between voices not close in register or timbre.

In his dissertation on Danzi’s eighty-six chamber works, Peter Marquis Alexander asserts that the melodies within these quintets are mostly in a “melody and accompaniment” texture, and that textural interest resides mostly in the constantly changing voices.102 While there is truth to his statement regarding the melody and accompaniment texture, Alexander fails to mention melodies with the slow introductions of Danzi’s first movements which are highly contrapuntal in comparison to the melodic material in the primary theme zones. With the exception of Op. 67 no. 3, the slow introductions in Opp. 56 and 68 no. 3 contain highly contrapuntal writing, and the

102 Alexander, 92. Additionally, Alexander asserts that it is precisely because of this compositional tactic combined with the five distinct voices that the wind quintets were more successful than the string quartets.

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Example 3.6, Danzi Op. 67 no. 1, mm. 9-29

introduction to Op. 68 no. 3, seen in example 3.7, contains points of imitation, with a brief countermelody in the bassoon at m. 21. Due to the polyphonic nature of these two introductions, the instruments are treated most equitably, resulting in a timbre that contrasts the primary theme

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zone in character and timbre. Additionally, at the closing of all the slow introductions, Danzi had a tendency to utilize dotted rhythms, often separated by rests while the dynamics increase.

Example 3.7, Danzi, Op. 68 no. 3, slow introduction

In movements without slow introductions, the first instance of significant timbral change occurs in the transitions. As Alexander notes, Danzi had a preference for utilizing the lower voices, especially in rapid passagework that pushes the movements towards the lyrical secondary

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theme zone. Transitions within these first movements are independent and dependent, and the composer treats both types equitably—functional ambiguity permeates nearly all of the transitions, despite their type. The transitions are largely dominated by scales and rapid arpeggios, and similar to what was discussed on Mozart’s writing for winds in examples 2.6, 2.7, and 2.8, it appears as though Danzi was attempting to create one singular, extended line of heterogeneous timbres. Additionally, Danzi remains clear with his treatment of the medial caesura—they are often heavily articulated and contain, and are built around a half cadence in the key of the upcoming secondary theme, or secondary area in the case of his monothematic .

For reasons of timbral variety, Danzi had a preference for delegating the secondary theme to the middle and lower voices. Of course, this is not always the case, as the secondary theme can be found in the flute in Op. 67 no. 2 and is disseminated between the top three voices in Op.

56 no. 2. Regarding his choice of key for the secondary theme, Danzi remained relatively

Classical in his approach. In the minor key quintets, Danzi writes a secondary theme in the relative major, and in the major key quintets, he gave a secondary theme in the dominant. The only exception is found in Op. 68 no. 3, which has already been addressed. Danzi’s decision to utilize the lower voices for the secondary theme differentiates these pieces from earlier wind music—especially in regards to the horn—a voice that had been largely overlooked in

Harmoniemusik during the eighteenth century. In Op. 56 no. 1, Danzi drastically thins the texture, thus exposing the lower voice’s lyrical capabilities, as seen in example 3.8. In this example, the flute is absented from the entire theme, while the clarinet provides arpeggios in the lower register in the lower register, and the bassoon provides a simple bass, often interrupted by rests.

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Example 3.8, Danzi Op. 56 no. 1, mm. 37-44

Danzi was known for his melodic writing. There are many cases when the composer implements a new melody within the development, as previously discussed. Additionally, Danzi occasionally inserts a brief melody in the closing sections, as seen in example 3.9. The EEC of

Op. 67 no. 2 is comprised of two distinct sections that precede a brief codetta at m. 112. At m.

83, Danzi incorporates one final closing melody in the oboe, a melody that engages in an exchange with the flute until m. 91, when the second section begins.

Example 3.9, Danzi, Op. 67 no. 2, mm. 83-91

Interestingly, two different melodies comprise the secondary theme of Op. 68 no. 2. The entire theme is presented as a compound sentence, with the clarinet providing the basic idea, and the oboe providing the continuation, which has been annotated in example 3.6. While choice of instruments for this theme is consistent with the other first movements, this is the only secondary theme of the nine quintets that contains two distinct melodic ideas. Neither of these themes

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returns in the recapitulation, however Danzi compensates by providing a new theme in the tonic, which is located directly under the secondary theme in example 3.10.

Example 3.10, Danzi Op. 68 no. 2, mm. 26-38, mm. 160-168

Stylistically, Danzi treats the closing sections similarly to transitions, confining his material primarily to scales that are distributed between voices. In cases where Danzi employed one voice for these rapid passages, he often turned to the bassoon—a compositional decision not seen in any Harmoniemusik from the late eighteenth century, when instruments began to be

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treated in slightly new ways. One instance of an extended, virtuosic passage of scales in the closing occurs in Op. 56 no. 1, seen in example 3.11. In the closing sections of earlier

Harmoniemusik, the bassoon was restricted to its simple basso continuo lines, however in this closing, Danzi showcases the instrument in a new, complex setting.

Example 3.11, Danzi, Op. 56 no. 1, mm. 134-141

Indeed, Danzi’s formal procedures are not extreme. However, the composer recognized that he was writing for an ensemble that had not yet been professionalized; therefore, he may have held reservations about employing extreme formal procedures for such this new ensemble.

In order to elevate the status of the ensemble, he emulated various formal practices found within works for genres that had already been standardized, specifically the piano concerto and sonata.

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CONCLUSION

Throughout the seventeenth and much of the eighteenth centuries, audiences and composers did not perceive wind chamber music as a serious performance medium. Indeed, up until 1782, with the founding of the first professional Harmonie, wind chamber performance served as light entertainment during court dinners and aristocratic events, with members of these ensembles being prescribed to standardized roles. Early wind divertimenti of the eighteenth century featured pairs of three or four different instruments, and the writing contained homophonic, light texture—perfect for its function. As mentioned by Koch, these compositions were not meant to stir emotion within listeners, but rather please and delight them. Because of the Harmonie’s function, pieces written for the ensemble resulted in standardization of roles for its various members.

It was not until 1784 when performers within Harmonien finally began to notice change in treatment of voices, the first instance of significant change being Mozart’s “Gran Partita.” In addition to nearly doubling the Harmonie’s size, the composition features an increase in soloistic writing for all members of the ensemble, rather than just the treble voices. Its first known performance found great success, and thus encouraged audiences and composers to begin viewing wind ensembles in a different light.

By the turn of the century, the Harmonie had achieved widespread professionalization, but its performances still took place within courts and private concerts. Precisely at this same time in 1804, the string quartet was given its first public concert series by Ignaz Schuppanzigh.

While the series only lasted for three seasons, the quartet was far ahead of wind chamber music in regards to public professionalization. Shortly after this concert series Danzi relocated to

Karlsruhe, the small provincial town where he would remain for the rest of his life.

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Upon his arrival, the town’s musical scene was in dire straits. However, Danzi’s reforms turned it around. Danzi may have known of the string quartet’s public concert series in Vienna, but he was certainly aware of the success Reicha had found with his quintets in Paris only four years earlier. Therefore, Danzi’s quintets may have been one way in which the composer attempted to restore Karlsruhe’s musical reputation. Although audiences had a growing appreciation for wind chamber works, the ensemble still had not yet achieved the same reputation as the string quartet, which was well in the process of becoming concertized.

Although Danzi completed his quintets within only six years of one another, they exhibit significant formal expansion and manipulation. Additionally, they share many similarities to contemporaneous piano solo works: another performance medium that had achieved acclaim.

Danzi recognized the growing appreciation for chamber music in the early nineteenth century audience. Therefore, he took a new medium—the modern wind quintet—and wrote compositions that liberated these wind instruments from their standardized roles in the context of formal procedures found in various genres that had already been popularized.

Although Danzi’s name fell into obscurity shortly after his death, Paul Taffanel’s establishment of the Société de musique de chambre pour instruments á vent paved the way for a reappearance of Danzi’s music—including the wind quintets—in concert. Indeed, Danzi is celebrated by composers and performers alike for his innovation and melodic writing, and his popular and oft-performed wind quintets served as the foundation from which the genre could later emerge in the latter part of the century.

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SCORES

Danzi, Franz. Woodwind Quintet in Bb, Op. 56 No. 1: Full Score. Munich: F.E.C. Leuckart, 1941.

–––––. Woodwind Quintet in Gm, Op. 56, No. 2: Full Score. Munich: F.E.C. Leuckart, 1937.

–––––. Woodwind Quintet in F, Op. 56, No. 3: Full Score. Munich: F.E.C. Leuckart, 1966.

–––––. Woodwind Quintet in G, Op. 67, No. 1: Full Score. Munich: F.E.C. Leuckart, 1965.

–––––. Woodwind Quintet in Em, Op. 67, No. 2: Full Score. New York: International Music Company, 1970.

–––––. Woodwind Quintet in Eb, Op. 67, No. 3: Full Score. : Edition Peters, 1975.

–––––. Woodwind Quintet in A, Op. 68, No. 1: Full Score. Boca Raton: The Well-Tempered Press, 1990.

–––––. Woodwind Quintet in F, Op. 68, No. 2: Full Score. Waldshut: Edition Kneusslin, 1989.

–––––. Woodwind Quintet in Dm, Op. 68, No. 3: Full Score. Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1966.

Haydn, Joseph. Divertimento in G, Hob. II/3. Full Score. Edited by Howard Chandler Robbins Landon. Vienna: Ludwig Doblinger, 1960.

–––––. Divertimento in C, Hob. II/7. Full Score. London: Musica Rara, 1958.

Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus. Serenade for 13 Winds ‘Gran Partita’: Full Score. Edited by Gustav Nottebohm. Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1880.

–––––. Divertimento in C, K. 186/159b: Full Score. Edited by Gustav Nottebohm. Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1879.

–––––. Divertimento in Bb, K. 270: Full Score. Edited by Gustav Nottebohm. Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1880.

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