Mary Rowen Obelkevich, Associate Editor GENERAL EDITING: Margaret Ross Griffel, Associate Editor REPORTS-DOMESTIC: D

Home , Clitennestra, Leben des Orest, Oresteia (opera), Paride ed Elena, Supply Belcher

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: L. MICHAEL GRIFFEL

ADJUNCT EDITOR: Mary Rowen Obelkevich, associate editor GENERAL EDITING: Margaret Ross Griffel, associate editor REPORTS-DOMESTIC: D. Jay Rahn, associate editor REPORTS-FOREIGN: Emmanuel Leemans, associate editor Robert Fuller, assistant editor ARTICLES: Isabelle Emerson, associate editor Miriam Kartch, editorial assistant DISSERTATIONS: Josephine Mongiardo Cooper, associate editor Susan Testa, associate editor BIBLIOGRAPHICA: Thomas W. Baker, associate editor June Lord-Wood, editorial assistant SPECIAL PROJECTS: Tamara Lowe Dworsky, associate editor Leonie Rosenstiel, associate editor Maurie Sommer, associate editor Bonnie Lester, assistant editor BUSINESS: Stephen Willis, Manager, associate editor Jack Light, Advertising, assistant editor

SECRETARY: Cynthia Schwan FACULTY ADVISOR: Edward A. Lippman

Domestic Patricia T. Nolan Boston University, Boston, Mass. Alexander Silbiger Brandeis University, Waltham, Mass. Harriet Franklin Brown University, Providence, R.I. Myrl Hermann Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa. Harrison M. Schlee Carnegie-Mellon University, Pittsburgh, Pa. Marilyn Holt Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio Robert E. Houston Catholic University of America, Washington, D.C. Nathan Bergenfeld City University of New York,Brooklyn College,Brooklyn, N.Y. Adrienne F. Block City University of New York, Hunter College, New York, N.Y. Bea Friedland City University of New York, Queens College, Flushing, N.Y. Mary R. Obelkevich Columbia University, New York, N.Y. Gaynor G. Jones Cornell University, Ithaca, N.Y. Thomas Kelly Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. James C. Griesheimer Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. Howard Knopf Juilliard School, New York, N.Y. Marek Sowinski Manhattan School of Music, New York, N.Y. Dale Hunter McGill University, Montreal, Quebec, Canada William Penn Michigan State University, East Lansing, Mich. Norman Rubin Princeton University, Princeton, N.J. John D. Arnn Rutgers University, New Brunswick, N.J. Kathleen Chaikin Stanford University, Stanford, Calif. Michael A. Keller State University of New York at Buffalo, Buffalo, N.Y. Thomas N. Rushing Tulane University, Newcomb College, New Orleans, La. Millard Irion University of Arizona, Tucson, Ariz. Meredith Wootton University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, Ark. Richard Evidon University of California, Berkeley, Calif. Sue Vinks Hough University of California, Davis, Calif. Rosalie Schellhous University of California, Riverside, Calif. John Andrus University of California, Santa Barbara, Calif. Beth Bartlett University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. John H. Hajdu University of Colorado, Boulder, Col. Anne Amerson University of Hawaii, Honolulu, Hawaii Mary Tiffany University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. Gordon S. Rowley University of Iowa, Iowa City, Iowa George C. Foreman University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kan. Lee Patrick University of Kentucky, Lexington, Ky. Thomas Stoner University of Maryland, College Park, Md. Jack Crawford University of Miami, Coral Gables, Fla. Sterling E. Murray University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. Janice C. Teisberg University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. Julia Ann Griffin University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N.C. & Dan Broucek Richard Benedum University of Oregon, Eugene, Ore. Frank Carey University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. Norris L. Stephens University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, Pa. Carol Lee Irwin University of Rochester, Eastman School of Music, Rochester, N.Y. Richard J. Wingell University of Southern Califonia, Los Angeles, Calif. James Wheat University of Texas, Austin, Tex. Frederick A. Hall University of Toronto, Toronto, Ontario, Canada Paul F. Marks University of Washington, Seattle, Wash. Murray Charters University of Western Ontario, London, Ontario, Canada Paul D. Ledvina University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. Edgar J. Lewis University of Wyoming, Laramie, Wyo. Andre P. Larson West Virginia University, Morgantown, W. Va. Janet Schmalfeldt Yale University, New Haven, Conn.

Foreign Laszl6 Somfai Bartok Archives, Budapest, Hungary Ladislav Burlas Bratislava University, Bratislava, Czechoslovakia Georges Franck Brussels, Belgium Alan Brown Cambridge University, Cambridge, England Anna Amalie Abert Christian-Albrechts University, Kiel, Germany Reinhard Gerlach Georg-August University, Gottingen, Germany Don Harran Hebrew University, Jerusalem, Israel Reiner Kluge Humboldt University, Berlin, Germany Ivo Supicic Institute of Musicology, Zagreb, Yugoslavia Winfried Kirsch Johann Wolfgang Goethe University, Frankfurt, Germany Hubert Unverricht Johannes Gutenberg University, Mainz, Germany Othmar Wessely Karl-Franzens University, Graz, Austria Eberhard Klemm Karl Marx University, Leipzig, Germany Olga Mikl6ssy Karlova University, Prague, Czechoslovakia Rita Egger Leopold-Franzens University, Innsbruck, Austria Bernd Baselt Martin Luther University, Halle-Wittemberg, Germany J. D. Bergsagel Oxford University, Oxford, England Horst Heussner Phillips University, Marburg, Germany John C. G. Waterhouse Queens University, Department of Extra-Mural Studies, Belfast, Ireland Willem Elders State University of Utrecht, Utrecht, Holland Axel Helmer Svenskt Music History Archives, Stockholm, Sweden Se6irse Bodley University College, Dublin, Ireland Josephine M. Mason University of Birmingham, Birmingham, England Niels Martin Jensen University of Copenhagen, Copenhagen, Denmark Michael Tilmouth University of Glasgow, Glasgow, Scotland Georg Borchardt University of Hamburg, Hamburg, Germany Anthony Ford University of Hull, Yorkshire, England Anne-Marie Bragard University of Liege, Liege, Belgium Andrej Rijavec University of Ljubljana, Ljubljana, Yugoslavia Ian D. Bent University of London, London, England John Steele University of Otago, Dunedin, New Zealand Eric Grabner University of Southampton, Southampton, England Ludwig Finscher University of the Saarland, Saarbrucken, Germany Georgio Pestelli University of Turin, Turin, Italy Hans Conradin University of Zurich, Zurich, Switzerland Ake Berglund Uppsala University, Uppsala, Sweden M. Witte Westfiilische Wilhelms University, Munster, Germany

Whenever possible, communications to the corresponding editors should be addressed care of the music department of the institution in question. Otherwise, they may be sent to the Editor of Current Musicology for forwarding.

PUBLISHED The Music Department UNDER THE AEGIS OF COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY New York REPORTS From the Domestic Corresponding Editors: 7 Masters' Theses in Musicology, First Installment 38 Reports from Six American Campuses ISABELLE EMERSON 47 American Opera Center: Mozart's La Clemenza di Tito (January 21-23, 1971) ALEXANDER BLACHLY 50 New York: Early Music Concerts, 1969-1970

ARTICLES BEA FRIEDLAND 56 Some Reflections on Performance Practice, Musicology, and Aesthetics BYRON CANTRELL 63 Three B's-Three Chaconnes JULIUS ZSAKO 75 Bibliographical Sandtraps: The Klavier- schule, Pleyel or Dussek? RUTH ZINAR 80 The Use of Greek Tragedy in the History of Opera DONALD CHITTUM 96 Some Observations on the Row Tech- nique in Webern's Opus 25

DISSERTATIONS STERLING E. MURRAY 102 Earl McLain Owen, Jr. The Life and Music of Supply Belcher (1751-1836), "Handel of Maine" CHARLOTTE ROEDERER 108 Terence William Bailey The Ceremonies and Chants of the Processions of the Western Church: With Particular Attention to the Practice of the Cathedral Church of Salisbury FRED HAUPTMAN 112 Jay Weldon Wilkey Certain Aspects of Form in the Vocal Music of Alban Berg BIBLIOGRAPHICA ROBERT L. FOLSTEIN 116 A Bibliography on Jacques Offenbach 129 Performance Practices Bibliography- Second Supplement 150 Contributors Some Riflections on Performance and Aesthetics Bea Friedland

As an aesthetic phenomenon music may be classified in any of several ways. One can describe it, for example, as a "sonorous" art and thereby focus upon its acoustic properties; the description "aural" underlines its sensory aspect; "temporal" suggests a conceptual dimension, and so forth. On yet another level, music ranks among the "performing" arts; this modifier transfers the emphasis from theory to operations. But irrespective of the mode of discourse, the essential fact is that music is inconceivable without the executant element, symbolized by Plato's rhapsode, who must "interpret the mind of the poet to his hearers. "1 The Platonic image translates into explicitly musical terms with the notion of an "intermediary ... whose capacity to relive the originator's [ composer's] experience, and ... whose technical competence in relaying it" are central to the "partnership between the originator and the percipient."2 Or, stated otherwise, the reality of music as process rather than object becomes its distinguishing mark; it is unlike painting, architecture, sculpture, literature, or philosophy, for the fundamental reason that a piece of music is not made to be gazed upon, read through, or contemplated, but to be sounded-which involves activity, and of a very strenuous and exacting sort-in the present.3 In view of this exceptional feature of music, the comparatively recent arrival of performance practice-AziffUhrungspraxis-as a specific research area in musicology is indeed surprising. Apart from the seminal contributions made during the first decades of this century by Arnold Dolmetsch, Hans Albrecht, Robert Haas, and Arnold Schering,4 as well as a few important early monographs on ornamentation, systematic attention to the problems of interpretation and the emergence of a corps of specialists on the subject have become musicological realities only within the last twenty-odd years.5 Yet in this short span scholarly investigations in the field have yielded a store of knowledge and educated conjecture whose value is demonstrable in practical as well as intellectual terms. Programs of older music are no longer a rarity, and the resultant sophistication of taste generates ever-higher standards of authenticity. Today, for instance, audience sensibility would hardly tolerate a concert performance or commercial recording of Monteverdi madrigals with piano accompaniment, such as Nadia Boulanger's 78 rpm of I 937-although it was a pioneering achievement at that time.6

56 Within the decade just ended, most major American universItIes have instituted graduate seminars in performance-practice problems of various periods. In 1968 William S. Newman conducted one at the University of North Carolina. An outstanding accomplishment of this seminar was the compilation of a comprehensive bibliography of writings on performance practices, reproduced in its entirety by Current Musicology, which devoted a complete issue to its publication.7 The activities of professional organizations also testify to the urgency of this aspect of music research. Both the Inter- national Musicological Society and its American affiliate have held important colloquia on special problems in performing older music. The College Music Society, at its annual meeting in December 1968, sponsored a Round Table entitled "Rehearsal Techniques and Historical Performance Practice," with four noted scholar-conductors presenting the main papers.8 The City University of New York, in 1969-70, organized a lecture/seminar/ demonstration series centered on performance-practice problems; the format paralleled CUNY's inaugural-year project, Perspectives and Lacunae in Musicological Research. 9 Under the direction of Robert Donington the new series, Problems in Peiformance Practice from the Middle Ages to the Present Day, like the earlier one, presented in turn a number of visiting scholars, each a specialist in one or another area of the field. A synoptic view emerged, consequently, not only of the broad range of current explorations into the history of performance practice, but also of the wide spectrum of theoretical and empirical approaches reflected by the participating lecturers.

The twin goals of this musicological problem-area are the recovery of knowledge for its own sake (a central aim of all the humanities) and the actual reconstruction of a former sound-world. Since the latter objective must be attained without benefit of aural evidence, it is obviously possible to arrive at substantially different interpretations of the pertinent data. What must be considered and assessed are relevant contemporary writings about music; the old instruments used, as well as then-current methods of voice production; the physical conditions of performance; the societal framework, ranging from the general sociocultural setting to the specific musical occasion; and, finally, the notated music itself. It is altogether fitting that the primary source-document appear last on this list; not until the 19th century, after all, did the musical autograph become the more or less immutable record of the composer's intention and the inviolable mandate for the performer. The impulse of the performing musician to improvise-either entire pieces or extemporized embellishments to existing compositions-has conditioned the development of Western music from its earliest known manifestations. The generating principle of polyphony, in a very real sense, was the use of plainsong as a foil for improvised or quasi- improvised accompanying voices. Music from the turn of the 14th century to the first decades of the 19th has been described as "the process of making the composer's defences sure against the incursions of the extemporizer,"l0 and 57 although the figure of speech is colorful and felicitous, it can also mislead. The plain fact is that a good part of the music during this period was intended by the composer to be modified in performance-the melody ornamented (including lengthy interpolations), the accompaniment elaborated, the rhythms altered. This conception of the written composition as a partial sketch, a plan offering alternatives for realization, had evolved into a theoretical canon by the first decade of the 17th century. During the succeeding 150 years the composer's work was treated somewhat casually: instruments could be deleted, added, or changed; a composition might be simplified or shortened, embellished or lengthened; plagiarism and piracy abounded.ll But if these permissive attitudes are entirely at variance with the aesthetic values and legal codes of our own time (an age of composer power, aleatory ventures notwithstanding!), the benefits of the earlier tradition surely outweighed the abuses. The idea of the performer as de facto partner-in-creation with the composer released a source of artistic invention that expanded and enriched the total musical experience. For today's electronic composer the musical intention and its actualization are one-"He has been his own copyist, proofreader, publisher, conductor, and orchestra" ;12 formerly, the composer expected and listeners encouraged creative collaboration from the performer. Yet this interpretive freedom, as practiced in the past, was not limitless; the range of possibilities fell within a restricted set of conventions, an accumu- lated tradition generally understood and observed and hence not always fully described or explicated in the scholarly treatises, composers' prefaces, and similar documents of the time. Inquiry today into the musical aesthetics and performance practices of earlier epochs offers a comparable range of options-broad, but not infinite-for the researcher. One is dealing here with a sonorous phenomenon forever irretrievable in its primal, complete (i.e., heard) form. There is no true analogue, in music history, of the exhilarating discoveries-sought-after or serendipitous-which have periodically re- warded historians of the visual and literary arts.13 This being the case, the musicologist must ultimately rely upon some combination of (a) factual data, (b) presumptive evidence, and (c) his own musical judgment. That the last two factors invite diversity of opinion is self- evident. There can be more than one hypothesis regarding, say, the acoustical conditions in a certain church or opera house during the 1600's; and every- one knows about not disputing taste. But what of the first point, the recovery of written sources? Here, too, interpretation and decision-making are obligatory. We have seen that the musical manuscripts themselves offer only limited and tentative clues, and literary texts about music-critical, didactic, philosophical, journalistic-need to be assessed for their reliability, universality, and influence, inter alia. Of an old treatise or teaching manual, for example, one must ask: Is the writer an authority? Do his rules and ad- monitions represent the performance practices of more than a specific time and circumscribed region? Is the work prescriptive or descriptive?

58 Perhaps more so than in other areas of musicology, therefore, a crucial determinant of the individual scholar's style of investigation and interpretive bent in AufJiihrungspraxis research is his framing philosophy of history. In light of the endless musicological polemics in this field one is impelled to pursue the point further-in quest of an explanatory principle, a unitary measure for the spread of opinion. On analysis, the dissonant views do in fact fall into an ordered series of positions along a continuum: a simple rigidity-flexibility scale.l4 The operative factor here is tolerance of ambiguity; this means, in relation to musicology, that location on the scale is a function of the his- torian's approach to some very basic questions: Are the scientific ideals of precision and certitude feasible objectives in recreating early-music performance? Does there exist to be discovered an authoritative set of procedures governing the practices of each era in the past? How heavily can one rely upon nonmusical documentary sources or commit oneself to obligatory interpretations? And, finally, the eternal dilemma confronting every humanist scholar: What is the degree of investment in one's own findings and conclusions? The answers to these queries constitute the matrix of attitudes defining for each researcher the goals and limits of this branch of musicology. And although firm beliefs are an inevitable (and commendable) result of thought- ful and musically-sensitive scholarship, the most convincing expositions are those advanced not as Final Solutions but as strongly suggestive hypoth- eses. A model for this nonauthoritarian, open-ended outlook was provided ten years ago at a symposium on 17th- and 18th-century performance practice held during the Eighth Congress of the International Musicological Society, meeting in New York City in 1961.15 In the discussion following the two main papers, several of the panelists, though agreeing that much philological and organological research remained to be done, argued against unyielding, exaggerated positions taken in the name of authenticity. Arthur Mendel suggested that "the battle for historical accuracy is overwon"; Ralph Kirkpatrick spoke of being "musicians first and following performance- practices second; and we should approach music with the humility of the artist"; J ens Peter Larsen confessed, "I do not like the phrase 'exact reconstruction,' which is not possible for us today. The best we can achieve and what is desirable is a closer approach to old traditions"; and Robert Doning- ton, citing instances of conflicting evidence, insisted that "the law is less important than the spirit in performance." As coordinator of the CUNY 1969-70 lecture series, Professor Donington took many opportunities to enlarge on this point; he urged the fusion of "sheer intuition" and musicality with the specialized knowledge acquired from research. But the elementary truth of this proposition had its most forceful demonstration in the breach rather than in the observance, as the series progressed. Sol Babitz, defending his individualistic interpretation of notes inegales, unwittingly caricatured his own argument by the rigidity of his

59 adherence to contemporary treatises, as well as the eccentricities of his musical illustrations. Several of the CUNY lecturers, on the other hand, indicated the futility of viewing early treatises as exclusive repositories of orthodoxy. Frederick Neumann and Albert Fuller, among others, cited numerous faulty procedures and erroneous theories arising from latter-day misuse of such documents. But the essential flaw in the end-of-scale position exemplified by Babitz has deeper implications. This mode of thinking shares the philosophical and logical errors of all fundamentalist belief; it attempts to reify a dynamic process by erecting a monolith of "baroque characteristics" (Whitehead's Fallacy of Misplaced Concreteness) and then resorts to circular reasoning to validate the authenticity of those stylistic traits previously defined. And there is still another, more pragmatic case to be made against dog- matism in performance-practice scholarship-the ever-present risk of being proved wrong by subsequent research. Until very recently, for example, the 17th-century sound ideal was imagined as the thin, clear, somewhat piercing tone ... inherent in most of the instruments of the period-the viols, recorders, cornetti, high trumpets, harpsichord, etc.16

Yet new investigations suggest quite another hypothesis. Evidently 17th- century musicians in Italy successfully counterbalanced this strident tendency of their melody instruments, so often exacerbated by uncongenial acoustical conditions in churches and ducal chambers, with large forces of foundation instruments and echo-absorbing draperies; this practice bears witness to the period's serious "preoccupation with bass sonority."17 The 19th century is an epoch whose performance tradition is still imper- fectly understood, partially because of our own era's lack of empathy with the Romantic aesthetic. Scholarly zeal for historical authenticity-wie es eigentlich gewesen-in respect to older music is limitless, but there is no equiva- lent impulse to recreate a bona fide Romantic performance style. The response of the CUNY audience when Harold Schonberg presented rare transcriptions of 19th-century pianists (Paderewski, de Pachmann) playing Chopin is indicative. These genuine-not reconstructed !-performances from an earlier cultural epoch simply provoked amusement; they qualified as high camp. Now suppose a Renaissance scholar could miraculously produce a 1592 recording of the Duke of Gonzaga's choir doing a five-part Monte- verdi madrigal. If such a fantasy could materialize, the listeners' reactions would range from absolute reverence to ordinary, uncritical acceptance of the Mantuan singers' vocal and interpretive style as a neutral historical datum. Perhaps another fifty years must elapse before the Romantic era can be regarded with appropriate aesthetic detachment, though the beginnings of a swing in this direction are already demonstrable. Many 19th-century musical 60 conventions are out of favor today, among them the cult of virtuosity which mesmerized audiences and propelled artists toward extravagant display at the expense of the music. But this phenomenon was not peculiar to the 19th century, nor did it arise spontaneously; it grew out of a long tradition already firmly established by the early 1600's. Moreover, it remained for one of the most adulated virtuosos of the Romantic epoch, Franz Liszt, to make the turn to modern standards of interpretation, as documented in an autocritique remarkable for its candor despite its self-congratulatory tone: ... in yielding to mindless applause, I nearly put myself on the wrong path, from which, happily, I disengaged myself in time.1S In any event, understanding past performance practices is not synonymous with reconstructing artifacts, any more than knowledge of former fashions in concert-programing (excerpts, interpolations, potpourris, etc.) requires worshipful imitation of those customs today. The process of transmuting the written model of the composer's imagination to its aural counterpart calls to mind Huizinga's insight on the play element in art. The very idea of entering the creative world of another suggests the notion of playing (tinkering?) with the creature of the original fancy; now it is but a step to the suspicion that "style and fashion are more readily consanguineous than orthodox aesthetics are ready to admit. "19 Indeed, this salient feature of music and the dance, their common depend- ence upon an agent to animate the object-appreciator relationship, consti- tutes an intriguing problem in the philosophy of art, one that has never been adequately analyzed. The failure of scholarly thought to acknowledge performance as one of the primary categories in aesthetics is finally being challenged on fundamental grounds: namely, that the neglect of this para- meter undervalues the decisive role of process and change in certain modes of aesthetic experience.2o And, for musicology, these theoretical considerations serve to emphasize the urgency of a nondoctrinaire approach to studies in the field, a point aptly summarized in the following caveat: [Do not be misled] into regarding knowledge of the past as a substitute for imagination in the present, rather than as food for it.21

NOTES

1 Ion, p. 530 in The Dialogues if Plato, trans. Benjamin Jowett (Oxford, 1953). 2 Robert Donington, "Expression," in Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 5th ed. (New York, 1966), II, 984. 3 Donald Jay Grout, "On Historical Authenticity in the Performance of Old Music," in Essays in Music in Honor of Archibald Thompson Davison (Cambridge, Mass., 1957), p. 346. 4 Dolmetsch, The Interpretation of the Music of the 17th and 18th Centuries (London, 1915); Albrecht, "Die Auffiihrungspraxis der italienischen Musik des 14. Jahrhunderts" (dissertation, Berlin, 1925); Haas, "Die Auffiihrungspraxis der Musik" (Vol. 6 of Ernst Biicken's Handbuch der Musikwissenschaft, Potsdam, 1931); Schering, Auffiihrungspraxis alter Musik (Leipzig, 1931). 61 5 Frederick Dorian's The History of Music in Performance (New York, 1942), despite its popular style, was the first important English-language book in this area; a more current reference is Robert Donington's The Interpretation if Early Music (London, 1963; 2nd ed. 1965). 6 This vintage recording has been recently reissued as a long-playing disc (Seraphim 60125). 7 Current Musicology (1969) Number 8; supplement in Current Musicology (1970) 10:144-66. 8 Published in College Music Symposium (1969) 9 :83-111. The participants were John Reeves White, Denis Stevens, Alfred Mann, and Franklin Zimmerman. 9 Summarized by the present writer in "Report from New York: Ph.D. Program In Musicology at the City University of New York," Current Musicology (1969) 9:27-35. 10 H. C. Colles, "Extemporization," in Grove's, II, 991. 11 Marc Pincherle, "On the Rights of the Interpreter in the Performance of 17th- and 18th-Century Music," The Musical Quarterly (1958) 44:145--{)6. 12 Herbert Russcol, "Music Since Hiroshima: The Electronic Age Begins," The American Scholar (1970) 39:289. 13 One such fortuitous strike came about during the painstaking art restorations in Florence, after the 1966 flood. A long-time brunette (Donatello's wood sculpture of Mary Magdalene) suddenly became a proper blonde again, when the artist's original gilding was disclosed under layers of mud and centuries-old dirt! 14 This notion is borrowed from the influential post-World War II study by Adorno et al. on personality components of social and political attitudes: Theodore W. Adorno, Else Frenkel-Brunswik, DanielJ. Levinson, and R. N. Sanford, The Authoritarian Personality (New York, 1950). 15 Full proceedings in Report of the Eighth Congress if the International Musicological Society (Kassel, 1961),2 vols. The quotations in the remainder of this paragraph are from Vol. II, 122-23. 16 Putnam Aldrich, "The 'Authentic' Performance of Baroque Music," in Davison Festschrift (see Note 3), 162. 17 Anne Schnoebelen, "Performance Practices at San Petronio in the Baroque," Acta Musicologica (1969) 41 :44. 18 Revue et Gazette musicale de Paris (Feb. 12, 1837), quoted in R. Wangermee, "Tradition et innovation dans la virtuosite romantique," Acta Musicologica (1970) 42: 20. 19 Johan Huizinga, Homo Ludens (Boston, 1950), p. 186. 20 Hilde Hein, "Performance as an Aesthetic Category," Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism (1970) 27:381-86. 21 Donald Grout, op. cit., p. 347.

62 Three BJ s-Three Chaconnes Byron Cantrell

Ever since Hans von Bulow coined the expression "the three B's" in denoting J. S. Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms to the exclusion of other fine composers whose family names begin with that same initial letter, numerous comparisons have been made regarding the composition techniques of these masters. Although distinct forms are associated with the different time periods within which each lived, all three of these men are regarded as superior composers of variations. Each has treated the usual melodico-harmonic forms so idiomatically that commentary is too often limited to banal remarks on similarities or non- comparative discussion of individual works. The continuous variation form, the chaco nne, has, however, been ingeniously used by these three masters, and, because most of the aspects of the form are demonstrably retained by each of them, comparisons can effectively be made. Emerging in the late Renaissance, the chaconne gained enormous popularity during the Baroque era; indeed, no opera in the Italian style was considered complete during this age without one or more numbers in chaconne form. But with the Classical period came a strong preference for melodico-harmonic variations and opera buffa finales, and the ostinato variation idea seemed destined for oblivion. It was Johannes Brahms, late in the Romantic period, who handsomely revived the chaconne and thus paved the way for its popularity among later composers. In his book, The Technique of Variation, Dr. Robert U. Nelson devotes considerable space to a discussion of Baroque chaco nne practice in the instrumental field. In order to consider the three pieces selected for study here, a list of fourteen points has been extracted from Dr. Nelson's work. The order in which he describes them is the order in which they will be used for the purposes of this analysis: 1. The chaconne is invariably in triple meter. 2. The aecented second beat of the old chaco nne is carried over from the original dance form. 3. Stock themes, based on or derived from ascending or descending tetrachords, were much used. 4. The harmonic structure of the original presentation is invariably as important as the theme itself as a basis for variation, although there is no fixed practice of either rigid conformity to, or departure from, the original harmonies. 5. Continuous structure is an integral part of the form. 6. Increased rhythmic movement is a prominent feature of the chaconne. 7. Pairing of varia tions is a common practice. S. Transposition of the os tina to from the original voice to some other voice is not unusual.

63 9. Also quite common is the division of the set into sections, usually three, in opposing modes rather than contrasting keys, although the latter is also encountered. 10. In some of the chaconnes based on the descending tetrachord, the ascending tetrachord is substituted as a basis for variation in one or more variations. 11. Other musical forms are often suggested by returning to the original or related settings. 12. Contrapuntal devices, such as imitation and pedal point, are widely used. 13. Sequential treatment of figuration ideas is prominently featured in variations based on the tetrachord. 14. Other ideas are often added to the basic form to make it more interesting. 1

Bach The best known of Bach's chaconnes is the final movement of the Partita in D Minor for unaccompanied violin. Phillip Spitta reasons that, because of its length and the fact that it is preceded by a gigue, the Chaco nne is an appended, rather than integral, part of the Partita. 2 This deduction seems plausible enough as the Chaconne is in no way enhanced by the presence of the four preceding movements; indeed, the other movements begin to recede when their intrinsic beauty becomes overshadowed by the marvels of the Chaconne. The dating of the work3 and the determination of Bach's purpose in composing it are points of scholarly dispute. The date of composition can, in any event, be placed around 1720; Bach's intent was most likely founded in his desire to indulge in friendly competition with Johann G. Walther. The most vigorous controversy, however, appears to concern the number and nature of the variations. Auer,4 Szigeti,5 Spitta,6 Leichtentritt,7 and Bernstein,S all pose individual views. Many writers describing this Chaconne identify an eight-bar theme upon which the composition is based; the number of variations claimed by these writers ranges from thirty-three to sixty-five and most often includes some bridges or extensions. The present study has determined sixty-four variations on a four-measure theme, with neither bridges nor extensions. The Bach Chaconne actually opens with the first variation. The second beat of each measure enunciates the ostinato in the lowest voice, as shown in Example 1. The ostinato, constructed with a descending tetrachord, shifts to the first beat at Variation 5, and all subsequent alterations of the theme are created by expanding or compressing the ostinato motive within the four-bar period.

EXAMPLE 1

64 The triple meter remains constant throughout the work. Although the traditional accented second beat of the chaconne form is clearly evident in the first variation and for a while thereafter, it disappears in measure 24 and does not reappear until the close of the first section. In the major section, and in the concluding minor, the accented second beat is used in several successive variations, and then temporarily abandoned. In this way, Bach avoids rhythmic monotony and actually intensifies the effect of the traditional chaconne rhythm by highlighting it. The harmonic structure undergoes little alteration until the fifth variation, after which it is not used except for the occasions when Bach employs the initial setting as a ritornello and for a few variations after this return. This can be seen distinctly at the change of mode from minor to major. In general, it can be stated that the harmonic structure is extremely fluid and only inci- dentally related to the initial presentation. However, Bach usually uses a V to I(i) or viio to I(i) cadence. Except for the breaks at the changes in mode, the variations are wholly continuous, one variation flowing into the next without any possible pause. In conjunction with this, the rhythmic pace increases steadily in each section and concludes in the minor section with a slightly modified restatement of the original setting. Pairing of variations, common in this chaco nne, begins with the first two variations and continues virtually throughout the work. Undoubtedly, it was this profuse pairing of variations that provoked the adoption of the eight-measure theme idea by Auer, Spitta, and others, who regarded the occasional single variations as bridges or extensions. Generally, the double is merely a figuration of the previous variation (Example 2), but a more subtle treatment is sometimes used wherein the double inverts the motion of the previous variation (Example 3).

EXAMPLE 2 Var.7 Var. 8

EXAMPLE 3 Var.41 Var.42

Single notes of the ostinato are sometimes transposed, most likelyocca- sioned by the limitations of the solo violin medium. There is, however, one instance of complete transposition of the bass theme to the soprano in Variation 50 (Example 4).

3-C.M. 65 EXAMPLE 4

The Chaconne has three sections in opposing modes: the first and third sections in D minor, the second in D major. This middle section has only nineteen variations and serves very effectively to relieve the intensity of the minor so that it can be resumed in the concluding section. Variation 49 is one which so disturbed Spitta that he considered it a new theme (Example 5). Upon examination, however, this variation proves to be the only one in which Bach has substituted the ascending tetra chord in the bass for the original theme.

EXAMPLE 5

By dividing the Chaconne into three sections and using a variant of the original setting to conclude the minor section, Bach strongly suggests rondo form. This serves to give greater cohesiveness to such an extended work and conveys a sense of musical unity and coherence to the listener. Because the violin is hardly the instrument with which to indulge ex- pansively in contrapuntal devices, little use of such practice is made in the Chaconne. There is an occasional suggestion of imitation but nothing that could be firmly labelled as such. Instead, Bach makes use of some remarkable examples of pedal point. Variations 41, 42, and 43 feature a dominant pedal (Example 3 provides a partial quotation of Variations 41 and 42), which resolves on a tonic pedal in Variation 44. Variation 55 uses a mordent as a tonic pedal (Example 6). Bach makes his final use ofa dominant pedal point in Variations 58, 59, and 60.

EXAMPLE 6

Sequential treatment is abundant in this work; often it is partial or modified, but many examples of full sequential treatment are present. Variations 9, 15, 17, 18,20,21,31,61, and 62 all demonstrate use of sequences. Varia- tion 31 is especially interesting (Example 7). Of the three works considered in this study, only this one is actually called "chaconne" by the composer.

66 EXAMPLE 7

Beethoven It is not known whether or not Beethoven consciously experimented with the chaconne form, although it is entirely possible that he saw or heard works in this form by Handel and other Baroque composers. In fact, as late as 1772, Tommaso Traetta had used the form as the finale to his masterpiece, Antigona. Because the Bach Chaconne was not published or performed until more than two decades after Beethoven's death, the Thirty- Two Varia- tions in C Minor was, to the musical world of the mid-19th century, the older work. Despite the historical context, and in spite of the double bars that separate each variation, many musicologists consider the Thirty- Two Varia- tions a chaconne. The German edition of Thayer9 explicitly describes it as such, as does Fuller-Maitland.10 Theodore Frimmel, in the Beethoven-Handbuch,ll quotes Nottebohm as placing the date of composition between the middle of 1806 and the beginning of 1807. He calls the work distinguished, states that Schumann played it and even unconsciously used some of its ideas in his Symphonic Etudes, and reports that Brahms assiduously practiced these variations. The theme of the Thirty- Two Variations in C Minor is an eight-bar idea (Example 8). Triple meter is sustained throughout the work. The accented second beat of the old chaconne style is immediately abandoned after the first variation, but it reappears for Variations 5, and 9 through 15, and makes its final full appearance in Variation 31. Both the bass and soprano voices appear to be derived from tetrachords, the soprano ascending, the bass descending. Either of these voices can be made to function as the ostinato, but, because the soprano is merely an amplification of the harmonies and because the bass is not used all the way through the work, it seems more logical to consider the harmonic scheme itself as the ostinato. With the exception of the last variation, the harmonies remain absolutely faithful, o with the solitary substitution ofvii 7 ofF for V7 ofF in some of the variations. EXAMPLE 8

The structure is not continuous in that double bars separate each variation.

67 However, some of the variations either spill over into the following variation or are anticipated in the last measure of the preceding variation. In nine instances one variation flows into the next; thus, eighteen of the variations are joined in some manner. Example 9 shows a fine use of this procedure. Increased rhythmic movement is less evident in this chaconne than in Bach's. Beethoven relies more on varying figurations to provide necessary contrast between variations. He also relies on changes in dynamics to express another type of separation, and only toward the close of the two sections in minor does one truly feel an extended increase in rhythmic movement.

EXAMPLE 9 Var.32

f'ecc a... fDCO .. - _ ------

The pairing of variations is rather common in this work but not nearly so frequent as in the Bach Chaconne. Notably, the first three variations spring from a single figuration idea. Example 10 also shows that both the soprano and the bass ostinati are transposed almost immediately. In addition, Variations 10 and 11, 13 and 14, and 20 and 21 invert the ostinato between the hands.

EXAMPLE 10 Var. I Var.2 Var.3

Like Bach's Chaconne, this work is divided into three sections in opposing modes, with the major lasting for five variations. Beethoven draws attention to this brief middle section by marking it Maggiore. There is no substitution of tetrachord, but the work as a whole does suggest a rondo. The reappear- ance of the soprano and the original harmonic progression-now in the major mode-at the beginning of the Maggiore, followed by the return of the theme in minor (with the bass harmonies arpeggiated) in Variation 31, strongly suggest rondo form. 68 Beethoven makes masterful use of many contrapuntal devices. Two instances of mirror imitation are shown in Example 10. This technique is also found in Variations 26 and 29, and, slightly modified, in Variation 6. Variation 17 is the return to minor, and the modified canon at the second between the alto and soprano over an Alberti bass produces a wonderful effect (Example 11). Variation 22 is a canon at the octave between the hands playing in double octaves (Example 12). Pedal point is used only once, on the tonic in Variation 31. Beethoven uses a few modified sequences in the course of these variations, but he does not really indulge extensively in this technique.

EXAMPLE 11

EXAMPLE 12

The most significant addition to the Baroque form is the extended coda of the last variation. It might be argued that the fugue which Bach added to the Passacaglia in C Minor was, like this coda, a free variation on the theme, but here the usage closely parallels that usually associated with sonata form. Other original inclusions are polyrhythmics in Variations 9, 16, the last bar of 31 and the beginning of 32, and the ostinato within an ostinato in Variations 10 and 11. It is unusual that this work was published without opus number, but perhaps Beethoven regarded this composition as an experiment. At any rate, pianists are grateful for it, and it is the most played of all the sets that Beethoven wrote for the instrument.

Brahms The finale to Brahms's Fourth Symphony refocused attention on the chaconne form. The symphony was unsuccessful for many years after its first performance but has steadily grown in the estimation of musicians and is now regarded as one of his finest compositions. 69 In the program notes published as an introduction to the Philharmonia edition of the Symphony, Karl Geiringer dates the composition of the last movement as the summer of 1885, and the first performance as October 25th of that year.12 Fuller-Maitland lists the date of composition as 1886 and says that this last movement gave rise to much discussion because of its innovative qualities.13 According to Edward Evans, Riemann stated that it was some time before even the professional critics realized the structural basis of the last movement.14 Since Brahms transcribed the Bach Chaconne for piano left hand and, in addition, knew the Beethoven C Minor Variations, it is interesting to see what he retains of each. The theme seems to have been borrowed from Bach but also greatly resembles the soprano theme of the Beethoven Thirty- Two. Like the two works examined above, the theme is in triple meter (Example 13). The accented second beat is not present in the initial statement but is heard in the strings in Variations 1 and 2, dropped for Variation 3, used for the next three variations, dropped again until Variations 15 and 16, and further reintroduced in Variations 20,21,24,25,28, and 30. The theme also suggests its origin in the ascending tetrachord.

EXAMPLE 13

'0:"" ""'j''''1 e r;:. "'7- -(1.. . . L I I ...... I---"f J'" - f .p.. I . . 'i$. -. Sheer fluidity dominates the movement, as the harmonic structure begins shifting immediately after the first variation. Brahms retains the E minor center, yet modulates, however briefly, to almost every imaginable key. It is interesting to note that the dominant-seventh chord with the flatted fifth that enriches the seventh bar of the theme is heard again only in the first variation and in the twenty-fourth variation. So great is the wealth of harmonic change in this work that even a chord of such striking interest as this dominant is used only three times. Brahms maintains the continuous structure of the old chaconne, even where he changes tempo. The rhythmic movement increases until Variation 10; then different ideas predominate until Variation 16. Intensity builds until Variation 22, where contrasting material resumes until the gregarious coda. Variation pairs are as common here as they were in Bach's Chaconne. The vigorous pairing of Variations 8 and 9 (Example 14) is very effective in a manner reminiscent of Bach. In these ostinato transpositions, which would make an interesting study in themselves, Brahms not only transposes complete themes from soprano to bass or inner voices but also transposes single notes of the ostinato through

70 EXAMPLE 14 Var. 8 (strings only) Var. 9 (strings only)

the voices. No doubt this method was greatly influential in the formulation of color melody by Schoenberg and his disciples. So many instances of this idea occur in the work that it sometimes becomes necessary to make an intensive search to find a semblance of the ostinato. Variations 27 and 28, which are paired, illustrate this idea (Example 15).

EXAMPLE 15

This chaconne is also divided into three sections using opposing modes. Variations 13, 14, and 15 are in E major-a much smaller section than either of the works considered above-but Brahms suggests other keys, as can be seen in the example above. Here, the variation seems to start in C major and, though the beginning of the last measure returns to E minor, it immediately moves away from the tonic. Brahms does not substitute tetrachords, but he does occasionally substitute individual notes for those in the ostinato. Measure 5 of Variation 27 (Example 15) shows a substitution of (or Aq) for the of the ostinato. For the most part, however, the ostinato is retained intact, with some extension and diminution of parts of the theme. 71 Consistent with the symphonic character demanded by the other three movements of the symphony, this chaconne suggests sonata form; not only does it make use of modal contrast, but variations in the "exposition" are paired with others in the "recapitulation." Thus, the theme and Variation 16, Variations 1 and 24, 2 and 25, 3 and 26,5 and 27, and 6 and 28 are all pairs that are used to extend the chaconne into sonata form. I t is only natural that a superb contrapuntalist like Brahms has endowed this movement with a vast array of contrapuntal ideas. Imitation is a prominent feature in Variations 3, 5, 7, 13, 18, and 28. There is a canon between the upper and lower strings in Variation 31, and mirror imitation is found in Variations 8, 15, and 18. Variation 26 uses a pedal on C with splendid effect (Example 16), and the tonic pedal is used in Variations 12 and 13. Sequences, very much in evidence throughout, are prominent in no fewer than twelve of the variations. Examples 15 and 16 show how effectively Brahms uses this idea.

EXAMPLE 16

elc.

('------Some of Brahms's additions to the chaconne form are highly original. Certainly, the pairing of variations in separated sections of a work is unique. Cross rhythms and polyrhythmics are abundant. Decidedly unusual is the change of time signature from 3/4 to 3/2 in Variation 12, followed by the change of mode in the succeeding variation. It is a stroke of pure genius not to have them coincide. A few of the variations are bridges between pairs or sections but still retain the ostinato, and there is a four-bar bridge between the last variation and the coda. The latter develops not only the theme itself but also a few of the variations. Octave transposition is very prominent, as can be seen in Example 15.

Returning now to the fourteen points that characterized Baroque chaconne practice, the results of this investigation can be summarized. 1. All three works remain in triple meter throughout. 2. None of the three works makes extensive use of the old accented second beat, although it does appear somewhere during the course of each work. Interestingly, Brahms decides not to use it for his theme. 3. All three works are based on tetrachords, but only Bach develops a four-bar idea. Consequently, he has many more variations than either Beethoven or Brahms. 72 4. Only Beethoven retains the harmonic structure virtually intact. Both Bach and Brahms depart at will from the initially stated harmonies, so that the return to the original harmonization is greatly enhanced and can be made to suggest other forms. 5. Only Beethoven does not maintain the continuous structure, but even he makes use of continuity where he feels it is required. 6. While all three make some use of increased rhythmic movement, it is most evident in Bach's piece. Beethoven and Brahms prefer contrasting settings along the lines of character variation. 7. All three make use of paired variations. Brahms pairs them not only side by side but also in different sections of the work. 8. All three composers transpose the ostinato at will. In addition, Brahms transposes individual tones of the ostinato, thus gaining greater flexibility in its treatment. 9. All three works are divided into three parts in opposing modes. Bach has the most, Brahms the fewest variations in the contrasting middle section. 10. Only Bach employs substitution of the ascending for the descending tetrachord. 11. Bach and Beethoven incorporate a suggestion of rondo form in their chaconnes. Brahms hints at sonata form. 12. Contrapuntal devices are very much in evidence in all three works, although Bach has fewer such ideas than is usual for him because of the limitations of the solo violin in performing multivoiced lines. 13. Both Bach and Brahms are lavish in sequential treatment. Beethoven relies but little on this device. 14. Bach adheres most strictly to the old Baroque form without adding to it except for the use of expansion and compression of the ostinato and harmonic departure from the original setting. Beethoven adds polyrhythmics, dynamic changes, an ostinato within an os tina to, and, most significantly, a coda. Brahms uses practically all of these additions, plus cross rhythms, extensions, bridges, tempo changes, poly tonal effects, and alteration of the melodic structure. Each of these works is a masterpiece in its own right. While adhering to the basic chaconne form, each composer amends it as his ingenuity dictates and infuses it with his own personal stamp. Perhaps this is why von Billow's coinage of the expression "the three B's" has been almost universally accepted and still persists nearly a century later.

TEXTS EMPLOYED

The music used in analyzing the Bach Chaconne was a photostat of the 1720 Dresden Manu- script, which the noted violinist Marshall Moss was kind enough to lend this writer. This manuscript was compared with modern practical editions (Auer, Flesch, etc.) and with that which Barenreiter published in 1958 as part of the Bach Neue Ausgabe, Siimtliche Werke. The Edwards reprint of the Breitkopf und Hartel Ludwig van Beethoven, Werke was the prime source for the Thirty- Two Variations in C Minor. The edition of the complete variations for pianoforte, edited by Anton Door for Universal-Edition in Vienna, was also consulted. 73 The Edwards reprint of Johannes Brahms's Samtliche Werke was the prime source for the Finale from the Fourth Symphony, and the Wien Philharmonischer Verlag edition listed below (Note 12) was also used.

NOTES

1 Robert U. Nelson, The Technique of Variation (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1948), pp. 67-78. 2 Phillip Spitta,Johann Sebastian Bach, trans. Clara Bell andJ. A. Fuller-Maitland (London, 1899), Vol. II, p. 94. 3 Ibid., pp. 71-72; Charles Sanford Terry, "Johann Sebastian Bach," in Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 5th ed. (London, 1954), Vol. I, p. 316. 4 Leopold Auer, Violin Master Works and Their Interpretation (New York, c. 1925), p. 20. 5 As quoted by Sidney Finkelstein in the liner notes for the Bach Guild recording 627/9, J. S. Bach, Six Sonatas and Partitas for Violin Alone, performed by Joseph Szigeti and released in 1962. 6 Op. cit., II, 95-96. 7 Hugo Leichtentritt, Musical Form (Cambridge, Mass., 1951), pp. 312-14. 8 Martin Bernstein, An Introduction to Music (New York, 1937), pp. 86-87. 9 Alexander Wheelock Thayer, Ludwig van Beethoven • .. , trans. and ed. Hermann Deiters and Hugo Riemann (Leipzig, 1908-17), Vol. II, pp. 526-27. 10 J. A. Fuller-Maitland, Brahms (2nd ed.; London, 1911), p. 153. 11 Beethoven-Handbuch (Leipzig, 1926), Vol. II, p. 360. 12 Johannes Brahms, Symphonie IV (Vienna: Wien Philharmonischer Verlag [n.d.]). 13 Op. cit., p. 152. 14 Edward Evans, Handbook to the Chamber and Orchestral Music of Johannes Brahms (London [n.d.]), Vol. II, p. 164 (footnote).

74 Bibliographical Sandtraps: The Klavierschule, Pleyel or Dussek? Julius Zsako

According to the detailed reactions expressed by many of its readers, the "Bibliography of Performance Practices" (PPB) which appeared in Current Musicology, Number 8/1969, seems to have filled the dire need for a study of this type, however studded with beginners' constraints this work turned out to be. Such an undertaking, even as a point of departure, a "working tool," deserves praise and encouragement. Yet, in terms of this project's very nature and the circumstances surrounding its inception, errors of commission and omission were expected a priori. It is, in fact, one such curious bibliographical reference which prompted the present article. This concerns entry number 816, "Pleyel, Ignaz. Klavierschule, 3rd ed. Leipzig: Hoffmeister & Kuhnel, 1804 ... ," a publication attributed, whether by accident or intent, to Pleyel alone. Toward the end of the 18th century several well-known composers established themselves as publishers, too. One reason for this tendency was to protect the authenticity of their own compositions, in the absence of copy- right laws, against the malpractices of other publishers. Nevertheless, as entrepreneurs, they occasionally became involved in complicated mercantile and legal problems, sometimes even concerning the question of authorship. Entry number 816 is the culmination of an apparently inexplicable exchange between two, or rather three, such noted composer-publishers. The PPB is correct in making no reference to the first and second editions of the Klavierschule, since there were no such editions under that author-title listing. However, the bibliography fails to mention the two earlier works which show different titles but contain the raison d'etre for entry number 816. The Leipzig (third) edition is a revised, German version of a French edition published in Paris by Pleyel himself in 1799. Surprisingly, in this edition Pleyel claims to be only a co-author and entitles the work: Methode pour Ie piano forte par Pleyel et Dussek.l To further confuse bibliographers, if the original English edition is referred to, Dussek is credited with sole authorship. The first publication, Dussek's Instructions on the Art of Playing the Piano Forte or Harpsichord, was published by Dussek's firm, Corri Dussek & Co., in London during 1796.2 Dussek's bewilderment upon seeing that the third edition of his book did not even mention his name is expressed in his open letter, "Jedem das Seine," in the AmZ of 1802 :3

Herr Pleyel in Paris ... lies vor einiger Zeit die von mir in London unter dem Titel: Dussek's Instructions etc. bey Corri Dussek et Co., herausgegebene Klavierschule, in franz6sischer Uebersetzung, drucken, 75 und that mir die unerwartete Ehre an, sich auf dem Tite! als Mitver- fasser derselben zu nennen.... Bey meiner jetzigen Reise in Deutschland finde ich diese meine Klavierschule in einer deutschen Uebersetzung aus dem Verlag der Herren Hoffmeister und Kuhnel in Leipzig, denen es jedoch, ich weis nicht warum, gefallen hat, meinen Namen auf dem Titel derselben ganz zu unterdrucken und Hrn. Pleyel allein als Verfasser derselben zu nennen.

Since Dussek's protest appeared in 1802, the year of 1804, reported in the PPB as the year of the third edition, should be changed accordingly.4 In the same AmZ letter Dussek also declares that he has undertaken a revision of his Klavierschule, which was to be the only authentic German edition. The publication of this edition, which was to hand the authorship back to Dussek, was announced by Breitkopf and Hartel in 1803 as follows: Dussek, J. L., Pianoforte-Schule. Nach der englischen Originalausgabe (Dussek's Instructions) ubersetzt und von dem Verfasser selbst, verbes- sert und mit vielen praktischen Beyspielen vermehrt, herausgegeben. I Thlr.5

To further complicate this story, yet a fourth edition of the Dussek Pianoforte-Schule is reported by Craw.6 Although Dussek made it clear that this Pianoforte-Schule was the outgrowth of his original work (not to be confused with Pleyel's Klavierschule), the title page of the English original already carried the seeds of the forthcoming controversy. The long and explanatory title page of Dussek's Instructions makes the following reference to Pleyel:

Making the Compleatest [!] Work ever offered to the Public. / to which are added Gp. 32 expressly Composed by / Ignace Pleyel, / Six progressive Sonatinas w. th Violin accomp.ts ad Libitum; / which the Author has so constructed, that the Passages are / first immediately under the Performers Hand, not exceed.g / in Compass one fifth, and gradually extended & connected w. th / the Improvement of the Pupil.

It is further explained that the work is divided into two books and that each can be purchased separately. On the bottom of the title page the following announcement appears:

N.B. A Continuation of Six progressive Sonatas, by Ignace Pleyel, / will shortly be Publish'd ... the whole of this Work, consisting of / Three Books, may be had ... In addition to the above evidence of Pleyel's involvement with the first edition, there are other good reasons to explain why Pleyel added his name to Dussek's for the Parisian edition. Pleyel not only provided the French translation but also added some eighteen of his own exercises to those of 76 Dussek.7 Enjoying an excellent reputation in Paris as both composer and publisher, Pleyel knew that he would also increase the sales potential of the book in France by listing himself as co-author. These facts do not, however, explain the controversy surrounding the German edition, especially since Pleyel was never so popular in Germany as he was in France and England. This third edition would seem to suggest that Pleyel unscrupulously declared himself the sole author of Dussek's volume. Tracing the authorship of the Klavierschule is only half the story. The fascinating complexity in this evolution of authorship, and the psychological facets which might have constituted such an unusual state of affairs are not readily apparent. Since it was Hoffmeister who published the third edition of the Klavier- schule, one has to consider the relationship between Pleyel and Hoffmeister, dating back to 1798-99. The issue is again a question of authorship; however, the progression is now reversed. Here are the words of Hoffmeister as expressed in an open letter, again in the AmZ:8 Herr Ignaz Pleyel hat in seinem Verlag 3 grosse Duetten fur 2 Flaten herausgegeben, und mir die unverdiente Ehre erwiesen, auf dieselben als das 50ste Werk meinen Nahmen zu setzen, und dadurch mich zum Verfasser erkliiren ... Ich entsage demnach affentlich den sussen Vaterfreuden, und stelle soIehe 3 Duetten dem Herrn Pleyel anheim, mit der Bitte, Statt meines Nahmens den wahren Verfasser, der Ihm wohl am besten bekannt seyn wird, auf das Titelblatt zu setzen ... While Dussek and Pleyel managed to settle the matter of the Klavierschule amicably, the relationship between Pleyel and Hoffmeister remained rather embittered for many years. There is evidence that Dussek was not seriously concerned about the elimination of his name from the third edition; he did not directly blame Pleyel for it, and the two composer-publishers maintained a continuous and friendly personal and business relationship.9 Perhaps Dussek was made aware that Pleyel's contribution was significantly valuable, as becomes readily apparent when one compares the original and third editions. On the other hand, several letters of Pleyel to Hoffmeister evidence a continued implacability on the part of Hoffmeister and also reveal the burden ofa distressing monetary debt which Hoffmeister owed Pleyel.lO This, in fact, led to severely strained relations between the two; Pleyel, sarcastically, even changed to the "Sie" form of address and threatened to come to Leipzig in order to personally collect what he was owed. There is no proof, of course, that the third edition of the piano method (without the name of Dussek) was directly related to this unsettled and alarming situation, nor that Hoffmeister, in turn, was trying to cause Pleyel the pains of undeserved "sweet parental joy." Nonetheless, it was published in the midst of heated mutual mistrust, and the above letters do reflect Hoffmeister's ire. 77 There is yet another impugnable issue related to the background of the above controversy, and again in the AmZ.n Preceding Hoffmeister's open letter, a reviewer (signing as M ...) discusses the duets of "Hoffmeister." Expressing his "sincere opinion" (very assuredly), the commentator suggests that the style of the duets strongly indicates Pleyel, rather than Hoffmeister, as the composer. The presentation of this overly-expert stylistic evaluation leads one to believe that the reviewer's opinion was guided by inside information. Interestingly enough, this review was written almost a year before Hoffmeister's protest. One of the more peculiar facts concerning this mystery is that, while PleYel was better known in Paris and Hoffmeister in Leipzig, each published the other's work in the city in which that other was the less popular of the two. Why would Pleyel market his own compositions under the name of Hoffmeister when, during that time, Pleyel's compositions had the better sales potential in Paris. Moreover, there is no proof that the flute duets were composed by Pleyel. Around 1800 Pleyel's vogue as composer sharply declined. Dussek and Hoffmeister relinquished their publishing activities completely in 1800 and 1805, respectively. Pleyel, on the other hand, became quite well known as a publisher, but he stopped composing at this time. The present author did not attempt to gather additional information pertaining to the modus operandi of the protagonists in this mystery, nor to follow up the other pedagogical publications attributed to, or associated with, the name of Pleyel.12 This complex puzzle is the result of a foray into just one item in the PPB, noted in passing, and is in fact only remotely connected with the main concern of this author's doctoral thesis on Pleyel's string quartets. However, when one considers authorship pertaining to music in a period when unscrupulousness was a part of the publishing business, one wonders how much anyone really knows about the so-called lesser composers.

NOTES

1 A copy of this 1799 publication is reported in the catalogues of several libraries, including the British Museum. Full title is quoted by Howard Allen Craw, A Biography and Thematic Catalog of the Works ifJ. L. Dussek (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Southern California, 1964), p. 386, as follows: Methode / Pour / Le Piano Forte / Par / PI'!Yel et Dussek. / CeUe Methode contient essentiellement les principes du Doigte du Forte Piano. / On y trouvera aussi une nouvelle maniere d' accorder cet Instrument. 2 A copy of this edition is in the New York Public Library. 3 AmZ, Intelligenz-Blatt (December, 1802) 7:29-30. (The orthography is that of the original.) 4 One copy of this third edition is in the Library of Congress. The Klavierschule von J. PI'!Yel. Nebst 27 Uebungs-Stiicken. Dritte, verbesserte und vermehrte Ausgabe consists of two main parts: 42 pages of instructions (13 Lectionen, 8 Regeln) followed by 17 pages of (twenty-seven) progressive pieces. The latter part was printed separately and according to a different printing style, and its pages are engraved with a plate number "58." The folio following the title page contains a publisher's catalogue, and, interestingly enough, it bears the date December 1804. This date would indicate either a new printing of the Klavierschule or an insertion of the

78 publisher's catalogue into the material in stock, after Dussek's Pianoforte-Schule had already been published. 5 AmZ, Intelligenz-Blatt (November, 1803) 4: 14. (Original orthography). 6 Op. cit., p. 287. Craw was unable to find references to the second and third editions; the fourth edition was published by Breitkopf & Hartel around 1815. 7 Rita Benton, "Ignace Pleyel, Disputant," Fontes Artis Musicae (1966) 13 :22. 8 "Anzeige," AmZ, Intelligenz-Blatt (December, 1799) 5: 19-20. (Original orthography). 9 Benton, op. cit., p. 22. 10 Hermann Baron, letter to the present writer, London, July II, 1970. Baron's unique collection of correspondence, dating from 1800 to 1805, testifies to a number of business dealings between Pleyel and the publishing house of Hoffmeister and Kuhnel in Leipzig. Some of the letters reveal the fact that Pleyel lent Hoffmeister much cash and merchandise during the fall of 1800, probably while Pleyel was staying in Leipzig. This writer wishes to thank Mr. Baron for having provided him with this as yet unpublished information. 11 "Recensionen," AmZ (February, 1799) I: 345-46. 12 For the interested reader, there are a few such references available which are not reported in the PPB. The Library of Congress lists under Pleyel's name several instructive duets for two violins, progressive pieces for piano, and even instructions for the violoncello. Some of these publications include informative explanations. Pazdirek's list includes such items as: Pleyel- Czerny, Klavierschule mit besonderer Rilcksicht der jetzigen Leistungen auf diesem Instrumente- Leuckart; Pleyel & Schubert, Dance and Song, song for home & School-Williams; Pleyel und Wanhal, Kleine Pianoforte-Schule-Cranz. C. F. Becker's Systematish-chronologische Darstellung der musikalischen Literatur (Leipzig, 1836) offers about twelve different later or revised editions of the Klavierschule issued by German and Austrian publishers.

79 The Use of Greek Tragedy zn the History of Opera Ruth Zinar

Throughout the history of music the ancient Greek tragedies have inspired composers of operas, ballets, oratorios, and symphonic works. The frequent use of Greek themes stems from many reasons, foremost of which are the power and force of these ancient legends, the philosophical problems they present, and the question of man's fate that lies within them. These myths are among the oldest sources of inspiration in Western art. Unlike the Bible, which composers have generally approached reverently, they have been subject to revision and varying attitudes depending on changes in outlook from one culture to the next. Each generation sees the legends in the light of its own experience and environment, and the subject matter of opera used by that generation reflects its own preoccupations, prejudices, and preferences. As a result, not only have the musical treatments and interpretations of plots and characterizations of the Greek tragedies varied in different periods,l but each age also appears to have its own attitudes as to which tragedies provide suitable material for operatic presentation. Thus, certain themes become favorites for a time, only to give way to others in a later age. This article presents a survey of these changing preferences and prejudices as they pertain to the use of Greek tragedy as subject matter for opera,2 as well as a tentative chronological listing of the operas based on certain themes from Greek tragedy.

It is not known at which point the Greek tragedies of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides were no longer presented in their original form, but by the time of Plato dramatists were dealing with politics, war, love, and philosophy, as well as with the deeds of gods and ancestors. Rome borrowed the dramas, performance methods, and music from the Greek theater and then expanded, exaggerated, and distorted these borrow- ings. In the 3rd century A.D., Athenaeus, a Greek living in Rome, complained that "in ancient times the Greeks were music lovers, but later, with the breakdown of order, when practically all the ancient customs fell into decay, this devotion to principle ceased, and debased fashions in music came to light." In olden days, he continued, "it was the acts of heroes and the praise of gods that the poets put to song-music."3 In spite of the Romans' preference for sensational spectacle, violence, rhetoric, and sensuality, Greek tragedy in some form continued to be cultivat- ed at least into the 3rd century. After the general recognition and acceptance of Christianity, all arenas, including the theaters, were closed, and a new era in the history of music and its relationship to the theater began. Like the ancient Greeks, the early Christian fathers considered music 80 important in influencing the thoughts and emotions of men. Among the scholars and teachers of the time was Clement of Alexandria, who in his "Exhortation to the Greeks" (c. 200 A.D.) voiced the kind of opposition to the ancient tragedies which influenced the course of music throughout the medieval period: For my own part, mere legend though they are, I cannot bear the thought of all the calamities that are worked up into tragedy; yet in your hands the words of these evils have become dramas, and the actors of the dramas are a sight that gladdens your heart. But as for the dramas and the ... poets, who are altogether like drunken men, let us wreathe them, if you like, with ivy, while they are performing the mad revels of the Bacchic rite, and shut them up .... Under cover of music they have outraged human life, being influenced by daemons, through some artful sorcery, to compass man's ruin. By commemorating deeds of violence in their religious rites, and by bringing stories of sorrow into worship, they were the first to lead men by the hand to idolatry.4 This new doctrine of morality was foreign to the Greek doctrine of Fate, and the Greek tragedies were seen as tales of horror, parricide, incest, and violence. As a result of the activities of the Church, the theaters, with their music and drama, were abolished at the end of the Roman Empire, and liturgical dramas took their place. But although the tragedy and the theaters of the Greeks and Romans were not known to the masses during the Middle Ages, the great classical tragedies were studied in their Latin translations in the schools of Europe. During the Renaissance, the knowledge of the classics of antiquity spread. In 1423 the plays of Sophocles and Aeschylus were first brought to Italy by Giovanni Aurispa, a humanist and educator, and the study of Greek made rapid progress. By the end of the century choruses in tragedies presented in the schools were sometimes set to music. During the 16th century Renaissance artists turned to Greek themes more often in spectacles characterized by a melange of gods, heroes, nymphs, satyrs, shepherds and shepherdesses, stupendous scenic effects, and a bringing together of song, dance, music, and costume. Some plays, written in imitation of the Greek originals, were performed as intermedii with solos, duets, madrigals, instrumental pieces, and choruses. Among these was an Alkestis by Hans Sachs (1555), which has been lost. The Academie de poesie et de musique was founded in France by the poet Bail in 1570 during the reign of Charles IX. Its purpose was to restore the ancient drama, and towards the end of the reign of Henry III, the Academie was about to present "une piece de theatre en vers mesures a la farson des Grecs,"5 when political troubles interfered. In 1585 the first performance of a Greek tragedy with choruses set to music took place in a modern theater. Sophocles' Oedipus Rex, translated into

81 Italian by the scholar and statesman Orsatto Giustiniani, with music by Andrea Gabrieli, was chosen to inaugurate the opening of Vicenza's Teatro Olimpico. Although the production became the 16th-century model for performance practices of musical dramas,6 Oedipus himself was banished, for it was apparently not until almost two hundred years later that an opera was based on his tragic story. Shortly after Gabrieli's Oedipus Rex the Florentine Camerata was formed with the aim of returning to the greatness of Greek tragedy, but the new Christian interpretations could not accept the Greek concept of Fate which was so intimately related to Greek religion and to the Greek theater. The first operas produced in Florence were really festivals to celebrate occasions at court, and this may account for the fact that Greek tragedies were not used as subject matter. Ottavio Rinuccini, as librettist, provided a happy ending for the opera Euridice (1600). In his preface to the work, he described the approval with which such representations as his were received; he wrote that "some may feel that I have been overly bold in changing the end of the fable of Orpheus; but so it seemed fitting to me at a time of such rejoicing."7 Several years later Striggio, the librettist for Monteverdi's Orfto (1607), intended to portray Orpheus' death at the hands of the Bacchantes but did not do so for fear of offending the court. Instead, he had Apollo lead Orpheus to heaven to seek Euridice in the beauty of the stars and the sun. These "happy endings" were typical of the period, and the operas of the early Baroque became a mixture of love story, pastorale, and fairy tale. In her study of the use of Alceste as subject matter in opera, Abert states that the Florentines would have thought it impossible to set a complete Greek drama to music.s It appears from Rinuccini's and Striggio's treatments of the Orpheus legend that one reason for the rejection of Greek tragedy as subject matter during a period in which the "restoration" of the ancient theater was an ideal was that Greek tragedies were, in fact, "tragic." Their themes-the anguish and suffering depicted, the portrayal of rulers with all too human weaknesses-were inappropriate for the festive court occasions for which opera was supposed to be written. Amid general corruption, political assassinations, and insecure conditions, the first public opera house, the Teatro San Cassiano, was opened in Venice in 1637, and the masses, with their taste for longer, more spectacular works, gained admittance to the world of opera. The genre became a craze, and all the earlier tendencies were amplified. Librettos caricatured the Greek myths, so that gods acted like characters in an intrigue-filled farce based, in part, on the life of the period. Tangled sub-plots, extraneous characters, mistaken identities, disguises, double triangles, casts of characters involving monsters, nymphs, and tritons, numerous stage machines for miracles, apparitions, transformations-all catered to the age's taste for spectacle and amusement and to the vanity of the absolute monarch (if there was one), the privileged nobility, or the wealthy middle class. Throughout the 17th century, Greek legend was a major source of librettos, and there were at least sixty-nine

82 operas based on ancient Greek mythology which provided subject matter for two-thirds of those written and produced up to 1650, for a little more than halffrom 1650 to 1675, and for a little less than halffrom 1675 to 1700.9 This, then, was the picture of the opera stage when in 1649, almost half a century after the Camerata, the first opera based on a classic Greek tragedy, Cavalli's Giasone, was produced. In 1660 Ziani's L'Antigona delusa da Alceste (with a libretto by Aureli), was presented in Venice. Like other operas of the time, it was a drama of love, hate, revenge, and jealousy. The libretto was a fantastic distortion of Euripides' original play, in which the old ideas of Fate and Friendship played no role. The Greek tragedy of Euripides contains a scene in which Alceste is veiled after being rescued from Death by Hercules, and another in which she expresses her fear that Admetos will take a new wife in her place after her self-sacrifice. These scenes (together with Alceste's devotion, Admetos' fatal illness, and the final rescue by Hercules) provided a better starting point for the favorite type of Baroque libretto than those of any other Greek tragedy. Aureli's libretto included mistaken identity, disguises, comic scenes, and two love stories ending with two happy couples, Alceste and Trasimedes (Ad- meto's brother) and Antigona (a foreign princess) and Admetos. Butler believes that this distortion and the preoccupation of Baroque librettos with infidelity were based on Christian ethics and constitute the hallmark of modernity.lO In the last years of the Baroque period, beauty and charm began to dominate opera as the works became more superficial. Machines were still popular, and the happy ending was mandatory. During this period a new heroine from the pages of Greek tragedy appeared on the stage in operas supposedly based on Euripides' Iphigenia. One such opera, Iphigenie en Tauride (1704) by Henri Desmarets, contained distortions of the plot, and ballet, pageantry, and elaborate stage settings. At least five more operas based on Iphigenia (in Tauris or in Aulis) appeared during the next fifteen years. At the close of the Baroque period, Alceste and Iphigenia were still the legendary figures upon whom most of the operas based on themes from Greek tragedy relied. During the Rococo, subjects were drawn more from classical history or legend than from mythology. A number of critics of contemporaneous opera, however, still saw in Greek tragedy the ideal subject matter. In It teatro alta moda (1720), Benedetto Marcello ridiculed the librettos of his time and gave ironic advice to poets:

The librettist's subject matter need not be historically true. As a matter of fact, since all the Greek and Roman subjects have been treated ... the modern librettist is faced with the task of inventing a fable and adding to it all kinds of oracles, realistic shipwreck scenes, ... etc. All that is needed is to have an historical name or two on the public announcement of the work, the rest can then be freely invented and the

83 only further thing that matters is that the number of verses must not exceed twelve hundred, arias included.ll Francesco Algarotti also lamented this change in subject matter; he saw it as an economy measure and regretted that accounts of deities were renounced and historical themes used because they were less magnificent and hence less expensive. In 1755 he advised: The poet can conquer these difficulties [the expense of machines in production, the theme not suited for music, the story not familiar enough] only by choosing the subject of his libretto with the greatest care .... he should take his plots from events remote in time, or at least in place, that furnish occasion for marvelous happenings while at the same time being extremely simple and well-known.12 He went on to recommend especially the story of Iphigenia in Aulis, "where to the great variety of settings and machines is superadded the charm of ... Euripides' poetry.... The poet ... will be in a position to do with opera what has to be done with states which, in order to keep it alive, have to go back to their roots from time to time. "13 Diderot was another writer who mentioned the suitability of Iphigenia in Aulis as subject matter for opera. In his "Entretiens sur Le Fils Naturel" (1757), he said of Clytemnestra's despair over the impending sacrifice of Iphigenia, "I know of no verses ... that are more lyrical, nor of situations that are better suited to imitation by music. Clytemnestra's state of mind must wrest from her inmost heart the cry of nature, and the composer will convey it to my ear in its most subtle shades."14 Composers and librettists apparently responded either to these critics or to the same forces in society which elicited their recommendations. In the century prior to Marcello's criticisms, only about a half dozen operas had been based on the Iphigenia legends. In the little more than fifty years between that time and Gluck's Iphigenie en Aulide (1774), there were at least fifteen. But the tragedies of Agamemnon, The Choephores, The Eumenides (the Oresteia trilogy of Aeschylus, which contains the horror-ridden stories ofAgamemnon's murder by his wife Clytemnestra and her subsequent murder by her own children, Electra and Orestes), and Oedipus Rex (who killed his own father) were almost completely ignored. Gebel wrote an opera based on the Oedipus legend in 1751, but otherwise the Greek tragedies which explored the deepest and most powerful elements of human conflict and passions were avoided, as the Rococo " ... presented the world with the most lighthearted, amoral, and beautiful entertainments ... a stage devoid of earnestness, pathos, and solemni ty. "15 The criticisms of the philosophers and intellectuals of the Rococo eventu- ally bore fruit in the next period of operatic history. In 1755, the same year in which Algarotti had urged the use of tragedy as a suitable subject for opera, Johann Winckelmann, the classical archeologist, published his Gedanken iiber 84 die Nachahmung griechischer Werke in der Malerei und Bildhauerkunst, a work which reawakened interest in antiquity. Gluck was undoubtedly familiar with the ideas ofWinckelmann, Algarotti, and Marcello, and with 18th-century aesthetic theory, which saw music as the handmaiden of poetry. In his operas based on the tragedies of Alceste (1767), Iphigenia in Aulis (1774), and Iphigenia in Tauris (1779), he attempted to carry out the ideals of "simplicity and naturalness," which, as he stated in his foreword to Alceste (the second opera of his collaboration with the poet Ranieri Calzabigi), "are the highest principles of beauty in all artistic creations."16 In Alceste, especially, Gluck found the "strong passions, grand images and tragic situations," elements which "stir the audience and provide such great harmonic effects."17 His version of Alceste, however, and others of the 18th century, concentrated on the character's nobility and her inner struggle between motherly and wifely love. The cowardice of Admetos and the friendship of Hercules played small parts. In Gluck's other tragedies lyriques, as well, the characters were "more noble" than in the Greek originals. In Iphigenie en Tauride, Pylades offers to die with Orestes solely out offriendship. In the Euripides play, however, he was also motivated by his concern with what people would think if he did not die with his friend. "The current conceptions of the relations between men and women were such that they were enamored of the sacrifice, thinking it ... right and proper ... in harmony with Christian religious ideals. "18 This need to stress the noble and self-sacrificing aspects of behavior was but one of the factors which limited the selection of Greek tragedies for the operatic stage. The aesthetic viewpoint which dominated the 18th century was expressed by Christoph Wieland, librettist of Anton Schweitzer's Alceste (1773): Music ceases to be music when it ceases to give pleasure .... Music must refrain from painting the fury of an Oedipus who ... gouges his eyes and curses the day of his birth.... The composer should never forget that ... when he makes us cry, the tears we shed must not be painful but . .. tears expressing ... the emotions of an overflowing heart. This consideration would seem to exclude Oedipus ... and perhaps the majority of the tragic heroes from the lyrical stage.19 La Harpe, an influential literary critic and playwright ofthe period, agreed with Wieland. Writing on what constituted suitable subject-matter for opera, he declared: "I do not wish to hear the cry of a man in pain. I expect from the musician ... that he will find accents of grief without making them unpleasant ... I wish the charm of the melody to mingle with the emotion I feel."20 Although Gluck challenged this viewpoint and wrote in reply, "If some wicked person should say ... that Sophocles in the finest of his tragedies ...

85 dared to show ... Oedipus with his bloody eyes, and that ... the unfortunate King ... must have expressed the deepest sorrow, I will retort that M. de La Harpe does not wish to hear the cry of a man in suffering,"21 he did not attempt an opera based on the Oedipus tragedy. There were a few operas using the Oedipus theme between 1770 and 1830. Of this group Sacchini's Oedipe a Colone (1786) was the most successful. Although it was cooly received in France, it was well liked in England and Italy and by 1844 had received 583 performances. The story of Electra was attempted in opera for the first time during the Classical period. In 1782 Electre by Lemoyne, with a libretto by Guillard, was produced, and it shocked audiences. Clytemnestra's murder was com- mitted on the stage, this action violating 18th-century aesthetic values and making the denouement even more terrible than in the original tragedy. Haffner wrote an Electra in 1787, and Champein composed music for a literal translation of Sophocles' Elektra in the 1790's. This work was rehearsed and received with great applause at the Opera, but at the last moment the authorities refused to permit it to be performed. La Harpe also reflected the conceptions of his era when he declared, "Agamemnon is a coldly atrocious piece ... As for [the character] of Clytemnestra, it seems to me that one cannot tolerate her at all: she is an atrocity which is revolting."22 Thus, Alceste, Antigone, and I phigenia remained the favorites. During the Classical period, the interest in Greek tragedy was evident in at least seventy-five operas based on the dramas of ancient Greece. Most of these, however, dealt with the noble, self-sacrificing heroines, and only a handful with the tragic, violent figures of Oedipus, Electra, and Orestes. Agamemnon and Clytemnestra were apparently still completely rejected as possible subject matter. By 1800 the peak of the worship of Antiquity had passed, and the Western world was entering a new century with changing values. Throughout the Romantic period, interest in Greek legend was super- seded by musical nationalism, Wagner's theories of the music drama, and the predominance of program music. In opera, favored subjects included modern history, fairy tale, folk legend, medieval history, and (later) every- day life. A marked decrease occurred in the number of operas based on the Greek tragedies. Writers were apparently bored with Alceste and Iphigenia, and Antigone also fell into disfavor. From 1830 to 1900 there were fewer than fifteen operas based on Greek tragedy. Of these, none seems to have been taken from the tragedy of Iphigenia. Several composers did turn to Aeschylus' dramas, however. "The Aga- memnon was ... particularly admired by Napoleon.... he had long desired to produce a Greek play-in a good French translation-in its initial integ- rity, with choruses, music, etc. The project did not materialize."23 The works based on Oresteia include Agamemnon (1847) by Treves, a "burlesque tragedy" by Herve (1856), and Taneev's trilogy Oresteia (1895). There were also 86 several operas about Medea, including two parodies of the Medea and Jason story. Then, in 1909, Richard Strauss shocked the musical world with Elektra which contained the most brutal and violent music of any opera written up to that time.24 Strauss was deeply interested in the writings of current philosophers and social critics and in psychological "analysis." The music drama, with a libretto by von Hofmannsthal, stresses Electra's pathological desire for vengeance and her exultation over the murders of her mother and her mother's lover Aegisthus. It is more a study and explanation of Electra's feelings than a drama, as it suggests Electra's unconscious erotic attachment to her father. Whether society was ready for works like those of Strauss, or whether Strauss paved the way for such works, there followed a marked change in the number of operas based on the Greek tragedies of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, and in the direction taken in the choice of subject matter. Since Strauss's Elektra, there have been at least thirty musical theater pieces on the tragic themes of Greek drama, and of these, more than half have dealt with the Orestes, Oedipus, Electra, and Agamemnon legends. One of these music dramas is Alkestis (1924) by Egon Wellesz, who saw the ancient legends as timeless:

It is the nature of the stories which the Greek poets have left to us that many different facets are contained in them, so that every age can turn to that in which it may see its own experience ... each age has formed them afresh, and so filled them with its own life.25

His major concern was to restore the role of Fate in the drama, so that its "power ... is to be discerned in the events on the stage, instead of caprice and arbitrariness. "26 The libretto by von Hofmannsthal was completed by Wellesz and does stress the overriding power of Fate. Honegger's Antigone (1927) was written to Cocteau's abridgment of Sophocles' play and shows Man in the grip of the destiny he has created for himself. Carl Orff wrote two works based on Sophocles' tragedies, Antigone (1949) and Oedipus Tyrannus (1959). Both follow the original stories closely. Questioned concerning his choice of such dramas, Orff declared:

Sometimes I am asked why in the main I choose old material for my stage works. I do not feel it to be old, but only valid. The dated elements are lost and the spiritual strength remains.27

One of the more important operas of the 20th century is Stravinsky's Oedipus Rex (1927), a setting of Cocteau's version of the Sophocles drama. The goal of this work, Stravinsky said, is:

... to focus the drama not on Oedipus himself ... but on the 'fatal development' which ... is the meaning of the play.... Oedipus, the

87 man, is a subject for a ... symbolic treatment that depends upon the interpretation of experience and is principally psychological. The geometry of tragedy is what interested me, the inevitable inter- secting oflines.28 Stravinsky believed that his audience was "not indifferent to the fate of the person, but ... far more concerned with the person of the fate and the delineation of it which can be achieved uniquely in music ... [ where] the portrait of the individual as the victim of circumstances is made far more starkly effective by this static presence."29 This interpretation can be related to the composer's profound religious feeling and to his belief in a great order presiding over the universe. Stravinsky declared that "the music was composed during my strictest and most earnest period of Christian Orthodoxy" and that he most certainly believed "in a system beyond Nature."3o Cocteau's libretto for Oedipus Rex remains close to the original Greek tragedy in its portrayal of the power of Fate in Oedipus' life. In 1952 Darius MiIhaud, composer ofthe trilogy Oresteia (Agamemnon, Les Choephores, and Les Eumenides), writing on the future of music, declared: One knows ... that there have always been catastrophes in the history of the world. And yet one can only confirm that these catastrophes have not prevented the world from continuing to exist .... Doubt seems to me to be not only superficial but ridiculous .... Courage !31 Milhaud worked for ten years to set the Oresteia trilogy to music. There are similarities, apparently, between the theme of Aeschylus' work, which deals with mankind's redemption and the furtherance of knowledge and progress through suffering and catastrophe, and Darius Milhaud's personal philosophy. The libretto of L'Orestie is by Claudel, whose version of the dramas follows that of Aeschylus and is close to the original tragedies in all facets, including the representation of Orestes' murder of his mother as being not a result of free choice, but on the injunction of a god. Other operas since the First World War have included Leoncavallo's Edipo Re (1920), a grand opera which follows the original story closely, Enesco's Oedipus (1936), which uses microtones, and Partch's "electronic" opera King Oedipus (1961), as well as Louise Talma's Alkestiade (1956), which is a setting of Thornton Wilder's play and does not depart from the original story by making Alceste's wifely devotion the only major theme. In 1965 Pizzetti's Clitemnestra was performed at Milan's La Scala. A critic said of this piece: "Musically, the work was ... somber, repetitive, un- necessarily difficult to sing. But as exciting theater, the blood-thirsty Agamemnon legend is hard to beat.... "32 The most recent of this series is Martin David Levy's Mourning Becomes Electra, which had its premiere at the Metropolitan Opera in New York in 1968. A number of characteristics appear to be evident in all these works. There is a frequent choice of a text by an outstanding writer (Cocteau, Claudel, Wilder, H6lderIin, Hofmannsthal); less alteration of plot than in previous 88 eras (except in Krenek's deliberate distortion in Das Leben des Orestes, 1930); concern with dramatic values; use of such devices as choral singing, choral dancing, "quasi parlando," "speech chant"; frequent use ofthe chorus (some of the works are called "choral dramas"); and simple staging.33 All of these suggest the performance practices of ancient Greece. Above all, there is a seriousness in approach which seems to indicate an earnest searching for ways to express the Greek tragedy through modern idioms, and a reawakened interest in and approval of the dramas dealing with profound inner conflicts and problems of humanity. The acceptance of these tragedies as suitable subject matter for opera may be the result of a certain affinity between some contemporary viewpoints and those of ancient Greece. Unlike the Classical period, with its optimism and faith in reasoned solutions, the Baroque period, with its protagonists dominated by one "affect" or feeling, or the Middle Ages, with its conception of sin and rejection of much of the subject matter of Greek tragedy as stage material, modern audiences, writers, and composers accept and explore the role of Fate in human life and the complexity of human emotions. Gone is the demand for happy endings-violence of emotions and action is accept- able on the stage. The modern age can understand Sophocles' ironic fatalism, Euripides' human realism, and Aeschylus' conflict-filled emotion-driven protagonists.

The appended listing of operas based on Greek tragedies has been compiled from the bibliographical sources indicated on p. 94. Many of these volumes or studies refer to some works not mentioned elsewhere. None contains more than a small percentage of the total. Where different dates were given for the same opera in different sources, the writer has used the date given in Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians (5th edition, 1954). Where there is a discrepancy in dates in the works not listed in Grove's, the earliest date has been selected.

OPERAS BASED ON SELECTED GREEK TRAGEDIES

ALCESTE

Date Composer Title of Opera 1660 Ziani, P. A. L' Antigona delusa da Alceste 1674 Lully, J. B. Alceste 1680 Franck, M. Alceste 1693 Strungk, N. A. Alceste 1699 Draghi, A. Alceste 1702 Magni, P. Admeto, Re di Tessaglia 1718 Porsi1e, G. Alceste (Festa teatrale) 1719 Schiirmann, G. C. Die getreue Alceste 1727 Handel, G. F. Admeto, Re di Tessag1ia 89 Date Composer Title of OPera 1728 Dominique, ? Alceste (parody of Lully's opera) 1744 Lampugnani, G. B. Alceste 1750 Handel, G. F. Alceste (lost) 1758 Favart, C. S. La Noce interrompue (parody of Lully's opera) 1758 Raupach, H. F. Alcesta 1767 Gluck, C. W. Alceste 1769 Guglielmi, P. Alceste 1773 Schweitzer, A. Alceste 1780 Wolf,E. Alceste 1786 Benda, F. W. H. Alceste 1786 Gresnick, A. F. Alceste 1793 Portugal, M. A. (Portogallo) Alceste 1794 Guglielmi, P. Admeto 1806 Mueller, W. Die neue Alceste (parody) 1847 Elwart, A. E. E. Alcestis (incidental music to Euripides' work) 1852 Staffa, G. Alceste 1882 Gambaro, A. Alceste 1922 Boughton, R. Alkestis 1924 Wellesz, E. Alkestis 1956 Talma, L. Alkestiade

ANTIGONE (or ANTIGONA)* Date Composer Date Composer 1718 Orlandini, G. M. 1790 Zingarelli, N. A. 1725 Gandini, A. 1791 Winter, P. von 1745 Bernasconi, A. 1796 Bianchi, Fr. 1751 Galuppi, B. 1800 Basili, F. 1752 Casali, G. B. 1808 Poissl, J. N. 1772 Traetta, T. 1824 Gardin, ? 1774 Myslivecek, J. 1841 Mendelssohn, F. (incidental music) 1775 Latilla, G. 1863 Weingartner, F. 1782 Mortellari, M. C. 1927 Honegger, A. 1786 Parenti, F. P. M. 1942 Pallantios, M. 1787 Hoszisky (Horzizky), F. 1949 Orff, C. 1788 Dutillieu, P. 1954 Joubert,J. 1789 Campobasso, A. V.

*Antigono is the story concerned with Alexander the Great and should not be confused with the above listing. It was set to music by G. Porta (1724), G. B. Lampugnani (1738), J. A. Hasse (1743), B. Galuppi (1746), N. Conforto (1750), G. Santis (c. 1750), G. Wagenseil (1750), C. W. Gluck (1756), J. Duran (1760), V. L. Ciampi (1762), N. Piccinni (1762), T. Traetta (1764), F. Zannetti (1765), P. Guglielmi (1767), G. F. Maio (1768),J. G. Schwanberg (1769), P. Cafaro (1770), P. Anfossi (1773), T. Giordani (1774), G. Gazzaniga (1779), L. Gatti (1781), G. Paisiello (1785), N. A. Zingarelli (1786), L. Caruso (1788), V. Righini (1788), Lauro Rossi (c. 1790), and F. Ceracchini (1794).

IPHIGENIA Date Composer Title of OPera 1699 Keiser, R. Die wunderbar-errettete Iphigenia 1704 Desmarets, H. and A. Campra Iphigenie en Tauride 90 Date Composer Title of Opera 1706 Coletti, A. B. lfigenia 1713 Scarlatti, D. lfigenia in Aulide 1713 Scarlatti, D. lfigenia in Tauri [sic] 1718 Caldara, A. lfigenia in Aulide 1719 Orlandini, G. M. lfigenia in Tauride 1725 Vinci, L. lfigenia in Tauride 1735 Porpora, N. lfigenia in Aulide 1739 Aliprandi, B. lfigenia in Aulide 1745 Avossa, G. lfigenia in Aulide 1748 Graun, C. H. lfigenia in Aulide 1751 J ommelli, N. lfigenia in Aulide (some arias by Traetta in 1753 performance in Naples) 1756 Mazzoni, A. M. lfigenia in Tauride 1762 Bertoni, F. G. lfigenia in Aulide 1763 Traetta, T. lfigenia in Tauride 1764 Maio (Majo), G. F. lfigenia in Tauride 1764 Maio (Majo), G. F. lfigenia in Aulide 1765 Agricola, J. F. lfigenia in Tauride 1765 Guglielmi, P. lfigenia in Aulide 1768 Galuppi, B. lfigenia in Tauride 1771 Jommelli, N. lfigenia in Tauride 1774 Gluck, C. W. Iphigenie in Aulide 1777 Solari, G. lfigenia in Aulide 1777 Sarti, G. lfigenia 1778 Despreaux, ? Momie (parody of Gluck's Iphigenie en Aulide) 1779 Anonymous Iphise aux Boulevards (parody of Gluck's Iphigenie en Tauride) 1779 Favart, C. F. and F. J. Prot Les Reveries renouvelees des Grecs (parody of Gluck's Iphigenie en Tauride; based on Favart's 1757 parody, La petite Iphigenie) 1779 Gluck, C. W. Iphigenie en Tauride 1781 Piccinni, N. Iphigenie en Tauride 1781 Solar, Martin y lfigenia in Aulide 1784 Monza, C. lfigenia in Tauride 1784 Prati, A. lfigenia in Aulide 1785 Pleyel, 1. lfigenia in Aulide 1785 Tarchi, A. lfigenia in Aulide 1785 Tarchi, A. lfigenia in Tauride 1786 Giordini, G.(?) lfigenia in Aulide 1787 Zingarelli, N. lfigenia in Aulide 1788 Cherubini, L. lfigenia in Aulide 1789 Campobasso, A. V. lfigenia in Aulide 1798 Mosca, G. lfigenia in Aulide 1798 Rossi, L. lfigenia in Aulide 1804 Trento, V. lfigenia in Aulide 1806 Mayer, ? lfigenia in Aulide 1807 Danzi, F. Iphigenia 1809 Federici, V. lfigenia in Aulide 1811 Mayr,J. S. Il sacrificio d'Ifigenia 1817 Carafo, P. lfigenia in Tauride 1951 Pizzetti, 1. lfigenia

91 MEDEA

Date Composer Title of Opera 1649 Cavalli, F. Giasone 1675 Giannettini, A. Medea in Atene 1692 Kusser,]. S. Jason 1692 Charpentier, M. A. Medee 1713 Salomon, ? Medee et]ason 1726 Brusa, G. F. Medea e Giasone 1727 Dominique, ? Medee et]ason (parody of Salomon opera) 1735 Vinci, L. Medea riconoscinta 1744 Perez, D. Medea 1752 Gebel, G. Medea 1772 Cannabich, C. Medee et]ason 1775 Benda, F. Medea (monodrama) 1786 Vogel,]. C. Toison d'Or (Medee a Colchos) 1788 Naumann,]. G. Medea in Colchide ossia II ritorno di Giasone in Grecia 1789 Winter, P. von Medea und Jason 1792 MarinelIi, G. La Vendetta di Medea 1797 Cherubini, L. Medee 1798 Piticchio, F. La Vendetta di Medea 1805 Lang1e, H. F. M. Medee 1813 FontenelIe, M. Granges Medee et]ason 1813 Mayr,]. S. Medea in Corinto 1815 Coccia, C. Medea e Giasone 1822 MuelIer, W. Die neue Medea (parody) 1838 Celli, F. Medea 1843 Pacini, G. Medea 1851 Mercadante, G. S. R. Medea 1866 Krempelsetzer, G. Medea (Das Orakel in Delphi) 1935 Engel, L. Medea 1939 Milhaud, D. Medee

OEDIPUS Date Composer Title of OPera 1751 Gebel, G. Oedipe 1779 Desaugiers, M.-A. Le Petit Oedipe 1786 Sacchini, A. M. G. Oedipe a Colone 1791 Mereaux, N.]. (Le Froid de) Oedipe a Thebes (Oedipe et]ocaste) 1797 Dibdin, C. The Sphinx (?) 1802 ZingarelIi, N. A. Edipo a Colono 1874 Lassen, E. Oedipus 1920 LeoncavalIo, R. Edipo Re 1927 Stravinsky, I. Oedipus Rex 1936 Enesco, G. Oedipe 1959 Orff, C. Oedipus Tyrannus 1961 Partch, H. King Oedipus

92 THE ORESTEIA (AGAMEMNON, THE CHOEPHORES, THE EUMENIDES, i.e., operas dealing with Electra, Orestes, Clytemnestra, or Agamemnon) Date Composer Title of Opera 1681 Perti, G. A. Oreste 1723 Micheli, B. L'Oreste 1734 Handel, G. F. Orestes (mainly from other Handel works, with new overture) 1772 Agricola, J. F. Oreste e Pilade 1780 Cannabich, C. Elektra (melodrama) 1782 Lemoyne, J. B. Electra 1783 Cimarosa, D. Orestes ("opera comique") 1787 Hiiffner, J. C. F. Electra 1789 Hoszisky (Horzizky), F. Orestes 179? Champein, S. Electra 1800 Zingarelli, N. A. Clitennestra 1808 Morlacchi, F. Orestes 1818 Kreutzer, K. Orestes 1847 Treves, ? Agamemnon 1856 Herve (Florimond Ronger) Agamemnon ("tragedie burlesque") 1872 Alberti, ? Orestes 1895 Taneev, S. I. Oresteya (trilogy) 19? Cuclin, D. Agamemnon 1902 Weingartner, F. Orestes 1905 Gnecchi, V. Cassandra 1909 Strauss, R. Elektra 1913-22 Milhaud, D. L'Orestie trilogy: Agamemnon (one scene set to music, 1913) Les Choephores, (1915) Les Eumenides (1917-22) 1924 Linstead, G. F. Oresteia ( trilogy) 1930 Ktenek, E. Das Leben des Orest 1950 Demuth, N. The Oresteia (trilogy) 1961 Badings, H. Orestes 1965 Pizzetti, I. Clitemnestra 1967 Levy, M. D. Mourning Becomes Electra

Other 20th Century Operas Based on Greek Tragedies Date Composer Title of Opera 19? Gray, C. Trojan Women 1915 Pizzetti, I. Fedra 1915 Romani, R. Fedra 1915 Senilov, V. Hippolytus 1925 Roussel, A. La Naissance de la Lyre 1931 Wellesz, E. Bakchantinnen 1940 Thomson, V. The Trojan Women (incidental music) 1941 Thomson, V. Oedipus Tyrannus (incidental music) 1948 Ghedini, G. F. Le baccanti 1951 Cortese, L. Prometeo 1961 Mihalovici, M. Phaedre

93 BIBliOGRAPHY USED FOR THE PRECEDING LIST

Abert, Anna Amalie. "Der Geschmackswandel auf der Opernbiihne am Alkestis-Stofl' dargestellt," Die Musiliforschung (1953) 6:214-35. Clement, Felix and Pierre Larousse. Dictionnaire des operas. Paris, 1910. Davidson, Gladys. The Barnes Book of the Opera. New York, 1962. Ewen, David. Enryclopedia rifthe OPera. New York, 1963. Grout, DonaldJ. A Short History of Opera. 2nd edition. New York, 1965. Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians. Edited by Eric Blom. 5th edition. London, 1954. Huchzermeyer, Helmut. "Zur Auffiihrung antiker Tragodien auf der modernen Biihne," Neue Zeitschriflfur Musik (1962) 123:492-97. Kloiber, Rudolf. Handbuch der Oper. 6th edition. Regensburg, 1961. Loewenberg, Alfred. Annals of Opera, 1597-1910. Revised edition. Geneva, 1955. Machlis,Joseph. Introduction to Contemporary Music. New York, 1961. Martens, Frederick H. A Thousand and One Nights rif Opera. New York, 1926. Moore, Frank L. Crowell's Handbook of World Opera. New York, 1961. Riemann, Hugo. Opern-Handbuch. Repertorium der dramatisch-musikalischen Literatur. Leipzig, 1886. Rotondi, Joseph Ernileo. "Literary and Musical Aspects of Roman Opera-1600-1650." Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, 1959. Teasdale, May Silva. 20th Century Opera at Home and Abroad. New York, 1938. Thompson, Oscar (ed.). The International Cyclopedia rif Music and Musicians. 9th edition. New York, 1964. Tower, John. Dictionary-Catalogue rif OPeras and Operettas Which Have Been Peiformed on the Public Stage. Morgantown, W. Va., 1910.

NOTES

1 Several studies have dealt with interpretations of specific tragedies in operatic history. These include: Anna Amalie Abert, "Der Geschmackswandel auf der Opernbiihne, am Alkestis-Stoff dargestellt," Die Musiliforschung (1953) 6:214-35; Harold Edgar Johnson, "Iphigenia in Tauris as the Subject for French Opera," (unpublished Master's thesis, Cornell University, 1939). 2 This article stems in part from the writer's unpublished doctoral dissertation, "Greek Tragedy in the Theatre Pieces of Stravinsky and Milhaud" (New York University, 1968), which includes a survey of the musical treatments and changing interpretations of Greek tragedy in operatic history. 3 Athenaeus, The Deipnosophists, trans. Charles Burton Gulick (Cambridge, Mass., and London, 1937), VI, p. 417. 4 Clement rif Alexandria, trans. G. W. Butterworth (Cambridge, Mass., 1953), pp. 5-9. 5 Paul Henry Lang, "The Literary Aspects of the History of Opera in France," (unpublished doctoral dissertation, Cornell University, 1934), p. 83, citing Balf, Oeuvres Complets. 6 Leo Schrade, La Representation d'Edipo Tiranno au Teatro Olimpico (Vicenza, 1585) (Paris, 1960), p. 32. 7 Ottavio Rinuccini, "Preface to Euridice," in The Essence rif Opera, ed. Ulrich Weisstein (London, 1964), p. 19. B Abert, op. cit., p. 216. 9 From the listing of "important operas" in Grove's Dictionary rif Music and Musicians (5th ed.; London and New York, 1954), VI, 233 ff. 10 E. M. Butler, "Alkestis in Modern Dress," Journal rifthe Warburg Institute (1937-38) 1: 59. 11 "II TeatroAlla Moda-Part I," trans. and annotated by Reinhard G. Pauly, The Musical Quarterly (1948) 34:375. 12 Francesco Algarotti, "Essay on Opera," in Weisstein, op. cit., pp. 72-73. 94 13 Ibid., pp. 73-74. 14 Denis Diderot, "Entretiens sur Le Fils Naturel," in Weisstein, op. cit., p. 94. 15 Paul Henry Lang, Music in Western Civilization (New York, 1941), p. 532. 16 Gluck, "Dedication of Alceste," 1769, in Weisstein, op. cit., p. 107. 17 Gluck, "Dedication of Paride ed Elena," 1770, in Weisstein, op. cit., p. 108. 18 Butler, op. cit., p. 59. 19 Christoph Martin Wieland, "Essay concerning German Opera and a Few Related Subjects," in Weisstein, op. cit., p. 117. 20 La Harpe, letter to Journal de Poetique et de Litterature, October, 1777, in C. W. Gluck, The Collected Correspondence and Papers, ed. Hedwig and E. H. Mueller von Asow (London, 1962), p.103. 21 Gluck, open letter to La Harpe, 1777, ibid., p. lOI. 22 William H. Matheson, Claudel and Aeschylus (Ann Arbor [1965]), p. 6, citing La Harpe, Cours de litterature, I, p. 84. English translation by the author. 23 Ibid., p. 9. 24 See Michael Horwath's "Tebaldini, Gnecchi, and Strauss," Current Musicology (1970) 10: 74-81, for a discussion on whether Elektra was a plagiarism of Vittorio Gnecchi's Cassandra, which was first performed in Bologna in 1905. 25 Egon Wellesz, Essays on OPera (London, 1950), p. 146. 26 Ibid., p. 140. 27 Andreas Liess, Carl Orjf, trans. Adelheid and Herbert Parkin (London, 1966), p. 36. 28 Igor Stravinsky, "On Oedipus Rex," Encounter (1962) l8:30-3l. 29 Igor Stravinsky and Robert Craft, Dialogues and a Diary (New York, 1963), p. 7. 30 Ibid., p. 9. 31 Darius Milhaud, "Ich glaube an die Zukunft," Melos (1952) 19:242-43. English translation by the author. 32 "Music," Time (March 12, 1965), p. 50. 33 Helmut Huchzermeyer, "Zur Auffiihrung antiker Tragodien auf der modernen Biihne," Neue Zeitschriftfiir Musik (1962) 123:492-97.

95 Some Observations on the Row Technique zn Webern's Opus 25 Donald Chittum f

There are many aspects of Web ern's Drei Lieder that are noteworthy and deserve discussion in their own right. I am thinking specifically of the composer's penchant for creating discrete cellular structures, each with its own pitch, rhythmic, dynamic, and articulative character, and his way of shaping these structures into a well organized, but still multifarious, work of art. As interesting as these phenomena are to the theorist, I nevertheless wish to devote my attention in this article to the specific properties of the row, the manner in which it is used, and how it affects certain aspects of harmonic organization. The row of the songs (see Example 1) is composed essentially of seconds and thirds; it contains only one perfect interval and no tritones. In keeping with other rows used by Webern, it has an internal symmetrical organization'! For instance, the row may be divided into four three-note aggregates, each containing a major third and minor second. Aggregates A, B, and Dare transpositions of each other, while aggregate C is a variant of these, with the minor second added beneath the lower member of the third rather than the upper.

EXAMPLE 1 1 2 " 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 ., • .. #* ., .. p.. W..,. $ I "'i $ fl ;j It A B C D

A row such as this, containing certain inner symmetrical relationships, is like those used by Schoenberg in that it is not merely an arbitrary ordering of twelve pitch classes, but rather an unfolding of a central pitch concept which initially manifests itself in much smaller aggregates or row segments. These then evolve into the entire row through various transpositions, inversions, retrogrades, or variants.2 It would therefore seem more prudent to think of the row not so much as the representation of the primordial pitch concept of the piece, but rather as a more complex manifestation of this concept. Once these pitch concepts reach this state of evolution (the row), Webern, like Schoenberg, tries to emphasize certain inherent relationships among various forms of the row and their transpositions. He accomplishes this by binding various forms of the row together through tones which function in both sets. This process occurs in both the vertical and horizontal dimensions of the 96 piece by means of elisions between both simultaneous and successive statements of the row. Consequently, the function of the elision goes well beyond that of merely avoiding any unnecessary duplication. In the first song Webern limits his use of the series to the original (0), the inversion transposed up two semitones (12), and the respective retrograde forms. A comparison of 0 and 12 reveals that the pitches C:lj: and G fall in identical positions in both forms.3 In the chart below, as well as in others subsequently presented, the tones holding the same position in various forms of the series are connected in boxes, and the tones involved in elisions are connected in circles.

Webern emphasizes the relationships between 0 and RI2 by stating the original at the outset and following it immediately with a statement ofRI2 in both piano and voice. The pitch G performs a dual function, or elision, in both series. There are only two departures from strict serial writing in the first song. One occurs in measure 5, where Web ern repeats pitch 9 of RI2 in the piano after it is sung by the soprano. The other instance takes place in measure 11, where Webern repeats pitches 10 and 11 and B) of R. Curiously enough, this is done in the line "noch einmal bin ich ganz ins Werden hingestellt und bin auf Erden."4 Could it be that Webern resorts to a subtle bit of word painting by using two unaccountable pitches in refer- ring to mortality?

In the second song Webern uses 0 5, 17, and their respective retrograde forms. Notice that these series stand in the same relationship to each other as do those of the first movement, except that they are both transposed a perfect fourth higher. The example below indicates tones which appear in identical positions in these various forms, as well as tones which frequently are involved in elisions. EXAMPLE 3

1 2 ;) 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 1 r -r"\ J, '-"

1 1

4-C.M. 97 Interestingly enough, these elisions always occur between voice and accompaniment, and not in either part alone. Webern uses four different types of elisions in this song, the most common occurring when the original and retrograde forms of the same transposition appear simultaneously. The following chart indicates the measure, the form, and the pitch integer involved.

Form and Tone performing Measure transposition dual function 7 R5 and 0 5 4 11-12 17 and RI7 10 30 RI7 and 17 6 40 0 5 and R5 8

A second type of elision takes place when original and retrograde forms appear consecutively. For instance, in measure 9 the last three tones of 0 5 are also the first three tones of R5, and in measure 18 the last two tones of RI7 are the first two tones of 17. A third type of elision occurs when Webern combines two separate statements of the same form. One statement begins before the other; the second is stated in quicker rhythmic values, so that it ultimately coincides with the first. At this point, a single statement of the remaining pitches suffices to complete both statements. Illustrations of this procedure appear in measures 15 (RI7), 20 (R5), and 27 (17). The last type of elision involves two different forms, each transposed to a different pitch. Here, Webern permits a single pitch to function in both statements simultaneously. (See the chart below and Example 3.)

Measure Form and transposition Elision 6 RI7 and R5 2=7 14 0 5 and RI7 10=5 15 and 29 0 5 and RI7 12=12 22 and 30 17 and R5 12= 12 31 RI7 and R5 4= II and 2=7 35 RI7 and R5 3=6

Two other departures from strict serial writing appear near the end of this song. Both are quoted in Example 4. Notice that in the first illustration (measure 33) pitch 3 ofRI5 appears prematurely, and in the second illustration (measure 39) pitch 12 of 17 appears prematurely and the statement of pitch 12 of R5 is deferred. In the third song Webern returns to the forms and transpositions used in the first song. Again he uses both tones eight and twelve of 0 and 12 in elisions. An interesting device appears in measures 48 to 54, where a statement of the original is interrupted by the completion of a statement of the retrograde. This is followed by a statement of 12, which shares certain pitches of the 0 form. (See Example 5.) 98 EXAMPLE 4

Langsamer, ;. ca 84

A 11 end-lich er

Imrner langsamer, J. ca 58 05 3'1 Z B

ann

EXAMPLE 5

rif. ------u...po

-+8 3 +.1 ==- 50,----:-15J 51 5J -- I@ i Z .3 sie an ----- p bis zumS" Rand A - " 7 J-Iff, sf y. { f Sx- 17 ) ,-,:. ® 'l 99 The chart below shows the first and last notes of the various forms used in the three songs. EXAMPLE 6

0 R 12 R12

Song 1 $ ...... ' , ....', j, l' I'

05 RS I7 RI7

II .... , Song 2 $ hd' I'

0 R 12 .' RI2 Song 5 $ /. q, I, I'...... ' ,-#' " Since the role of the series has grown to include a greater number of formative functions, and since it has become increasingly more necessary to speak of serial technique in terms of a more pervasive musical control, it has become equally unfashionable to think of the series primarily as a substitute for tonality. However, we do know that Schoenberg and most of his early disciples understood that the row could replace the formative function of tonality within a piece, and that "transpositions function in a similar manner to modulation in tonal music.... "5 This is nowhere more evident than in these three songs. For instance, notice (in Example 6) that Webern has created two tonal areas, represented by O-R and 12-RI2. O-R can be understood to be the tonic area, while 12-R12 can be understood to be its most important auxiliary area (analogous to the dominant in tonal music). In the second song O-R is transposed to 05-R5, and 12-R12 to 17-RI7; thus while both are transposed, the same relation remains intact (again having analogous antecedents in tonal music). In the final song Web ern returns to the forms and transpositions of the first song. Therefore, we see that, in addition to creating a tripartite tonal organization, Webern regards the function of these transpositions as analogous to that of modulations in tonal mUSIC. It is customary to think of Berg, rather than Webern, as the link between serialism and the tonal music of the past. Even the last works of Schoenberg seem, on the surface, to have a closer kinship to their classical forebearers, and this is especially true when one takes into account their harmonic vocabulary and the nature of their gestures. Because of his enormous originality and depth, Webern is generally accepted as the point of departure for the second and third generations of serialists. To many minds it is Webern, and not Schoenberg, who stands out as the consummate creative spirit of this school. It is interesting, therefore, to see that Webern did not, in fact, turn his back on the past but rather was able to rework older concepts of organization and blend them with new approaches, materials, and gestures into a highly original and provocative musical language.

100 NOTES

1 The row of the Symphony, Op. 21 is arranged so that the second hexachord contains the intervals of the first hexachord but in reverse order; the row of Cantata No.1, Op. 29 is arranged so that the transposed retrograde is the same as the inversion, and the retrograde inversion the same as the original. 2 For a fuller discussion of the process, see George Rochberg's The Hexachord and Its Relation to the 12-Note Row (Bryn Mawr, Pa., 1955); George Perle's review of Rochberg's book in the Journal of the American Musicological Society (1957) 10: 55-59; Donald Martino "The Source Set and Its Aggregate Formations," The Journal of Music Theory (1961) 5: 224-73; and John Verrall's "A Method for Finding Symmetrical Hexachords in Serial Form," The Journal if Music Theory (1962) 6:277-82. 3 In this article only forward forms of the row are given; i.e., 0 and I, since Rand RI can easily be deduced by reading these forms backwards. 4 "Once more I in creation's portal live my hours and yet am mortal." (Translated by Eric Smith.) 5 J. Rufer, Composition with Twelve Notes, trans. H. Searle (New York, 1954), p. 86.

101 Earl McLain Owen, Jr.-The Life and Music of Supply Belcher (1751-1836), ((Handel of Maine" Volume L· Text, xvii + 152 pp. Volume IL' Musical Supplement, vi + 204 pp. Ann Arbor: University Microfilms (UM order no. 69-4446, 1969. D.M.A., Musicology, Southern Baptist Theological Seminary diss.) Sterling E. Murray

American studies is a comparatively little-researched region of historical musicology. As with any youthful area of study the often laborious and frustrating task oflaying a basic bibliographical and biographical foundation must be accomplished before more definitive studies can be achieved. Dr. Owen's dissertation contributes to this growing foundation and, thus, to a developing knowledge of our musical heritage. Dr. Owen organizes his study in a deductive manner, progressing from an investigation of the composer's life to his musical publications and culminat- ing in a stylistic study of the music. In the introductory remarks of Chapter I, Dr. Owen explains that "on October 22, 1886, an extensive fire in the central district of Farmington quite possibly destroyed certain priceless documents such as letters, diaries, singing society records, etc. Therefore, it has been necessary that this investigator base his historical research mainly on secondary sources-nine- teenth century histories, correspondence with historians and libraries, and recently published books" (p. 1). This is a supposition, which the author does not attempt to justify. It is also "quite possible" that there were no records of any importance relating to Supply Belcher destroyed in the Farmington fire. Lack of primary biographical source material is a handicap, but, in spite of this limitation, Dr. Owen manages to reconstruct the chronological framework of Belcher's life and to paint a vivid picture of the composer's relationship to his family and his community. The biographical discussion of Chapter II divides Belcher's life into two periods, the first dealing with the composer's early life in Massachusetts and the second treating his later years in Maine from 1785 to his death in 1836. The first section primarily provides data documenting Belcher's early life and his role in the American Revolution. Of particular interest is the discussion of Belcher's musical training and his possible association with the singing school operated by William Billings in Stoughton, Massachusetts, in January of 1774. Because it has generally been assumed, though never conclusively established, that Billings exerted a strong influence on other early American 102 psalmodists, the definite establishment of a teacher-student relationship between him and one of the other Yankee tunesmiths would, indeed, be revealing. Ralph Daniel, in his study of the New England anthem,1 has, in fact, placed Belcher as a student in Billings's singing school. Dr. Owen dis- proves this statement, however, by providing in an appendix the membership list of that school, a list which does not include the name of Supply Belcher. In the documentation of Belcher's later years, the New England composer emerges as a man concerned with and active in his community. In addition to discussing Belcher's role as the local singing master, Dr. Owen documents the composer's activity as town clerk, representative to the Massachusetts legislature (Maine having been a part of Massachusetts until 1820), town selectman, and justice of the peace. Such observations seem especially pertinent to studies of composers whose music was so closely allied to community life. Although informative and generally quite readable, this chapter only partially fulfills its professed purpose. In his introductory remarks, Dr. Owen states that the "task of the second chapter is to establish Supply Belcher's position in history and to reveal the various roles he and his family played in the development of our cultural heritage" (p. 1). Although the author mentions these roles, he fails to relate them to contemporaneous political, economic, and social developments or to place them in a historical framework. The composer's life would have emerged in a broader dimension had these relationships been designated. Chapter III, "Supply Belcher's Musical Publications," introduces the reader to the American tunebooks which contain music by the composer, with a brief resume of their printers and compilers. A commentary on the theoretical introduction to the most extensive single collection of Belcher's music, The Harmony if Maine (1794), forms the basis for the greater part of this chapter. Dr. Owen begins by stating that "Supply Belcher's extant, published works are located in the following tunebook publications: (1) The Harmony of Maine, 1794; (2) The Worcester Collection of Sacred Harmony, 6th ed., 1797; (3) The Hallowell Collection if Sacred Music, 1817; and (4) Ancient Har- mony Revived, 2nd ed., 1848" (p. 29). It is unfortunate that Dr. Owen did not pursue the publication history of Belcher's music in order to establish the extent of its popularity and influence. Such an investigation would have revealed that Belcher's music also appeared in the following collections:2

Samuel Holyoke, Columbian Harmony [1802] (ST. JOHN'S) Abraham Maxim, Northern Harmony, 1805, 1808 (HALLOWELL, JUBILANT, RAPTURE, ST. DAVID'S NEW) Charles Robbins, Columbia Harmony, 1805 (Ordination Anthem: Hail, Thou King of Glory, TOPSHAM, HYMN 98, HYMN 116) Thomas Atwill, New York and Vermont Collection [1806] (POTENCY) John Busnell, Musical Synopsis, 1807 (EMANCIPATION, INVITATION, PROTECTION, PLENTITUDE, SPRING) Azariah Fobes, Delaware Harmony, 1809 (LILLY, VICTORY) 103 Although perhaps not so popular as those of some of his colleagues,3 Belcher's tunes enjoyed a much wider circulation than that implied by Dr. Owen's statement. Closer attention to the publication history of Belcher's music would have revealed other interesting facts. For example, the fuging-tune APPEARANCE is the only tune by Belcher to be published before The Harmony of Maine and represents the earliest printing of a composition by the Maine composer. It appeared in two tunebooks in 1788, the Worcester Collection (2nd edition) and Federal Harmony (Boston: John Norman). Furthermore, in the latter tunebook the tune is not listed among those being published for the first time. Perhaps, Norman had the Worcester Collection in mind, or the publication history of APPEARANCE may have begun earlier than 1788. Although composer attribu- tions are indicated in the table of contents of both tunebooks, the authorship of APPEARANCE is noted as "unknown." The tune retains this anonymous status as late as Nehemiah Shumway's American Harmony, printed in Phila- delphia just one year before The Harmony of Maine. In a 1953 checklist of unlocated titles in early American psalmody, Allen P. Britton and Irving Lowens listed only one item by Belcher, a "Celebrated Ordination Anthem" with "a number of other fuging pieces never before published," printed in 1797 by Isaiah Thomas and Ebenezer T. Andrews in Boston.4 Dr. Owen suggests that this may be a reference to the anthem "Hail, Thou King of Glory" and the two fuging-tunes TOPSHAM and PITTSTON. This hypothesis is based on the fact that these compositions, grouped together and attributed to Belcher, appeared in the sixth edition of the Worcester Collection in that same year. Dr. Owen might also have pointed out that these two publications were both announced by the press of Thomas and Andrews. The subsequent appearance of one of these fuging-tunes and the same anthem eight years later in Robbins's Columbia Harmony may lend additional support to Dr. Owen's argument. In any case, the consideration of these additional publications would have created a more accurate picture of Belcher's music in relation to the entire early American repertory. It was common practice for tunebook composers and compilers to include an exposition of music theory at the beginning of their publications. This introduction was often the work of a different author. Such is the case with the introduction to The Harmony of Maine, which Dr. Owen identifies as "reproduced verbatim from The Worcester Collection of Sacred Harmony (Worcester: Isaiah Thomas, 1786), a tunebook in which Isaiah Thomas quite probably compiled and edited the music and wrote the musical instructions" (pp. 35-36). His next statement, however, proves to be inaccurate: "In addition to appearing in all eight editions of The Worcester Collection ofSacred Harmony and The Harmony of Maine, these instructions can be found in The Boston Collection (Boston: William Norman, c. 1800) and The Federal Harmony (Boston: John Norman [1788])" (p. 36). Previously in his dissertation, Dr. Owen pointed out a discrepancy in Britton's identification of these same instructions: "Britton contradicts himself by indicating that

104 these musical instructions were prepared by Oliver Holden, originally appearing in Holden's Union Harmony, Vol. I (1793). An examination of Union Harmony, Vol. I proves this statement to be incorrect" (p. 36, fn. 18). In his 1963 doctoral study of Oliver Holden, David W. McCormick clearly establishes that "Holden developed or compiled a set of rudiments and instructions for singers for the first edition of Union Harmony [1793], then revised this material slightly for succeeding editions of that work, and transferred it without change to the parallel edition of the Worcester Collection. Thus, the introductory material of the Union Harmony, 2d edition [1796], is identical with that of the Worcester Collection, 6th edition [1797]."5 It appears that the introduction to the Worcester Collection, editions one through five (1786-1794), also appeared in Belcher's Harmony of Maine, while those of the Worcester Collection, editions six through eight (1797-1803), under the editor- ship of Holden, were borrowed from the Union Harmony. The text which follows contains a short commentary and discussion of each sub-heading of these instructions. Dr. Owen helpfully provides a photo- duplication of the original text, which he urges the reader to study before reading his commentary. The ensuing discussion, which clarifies various points of that text, demonstrates a thorough understanding of the early American idiom. Some minor errors do, however, intrude. For example, Hans Gram did not "come to America from Germany" (p. 39). Gram was born in Copenhagen in 1756 and reached the United States only in 1785 by way of the Danish West Indies.6 Also, in the discussion of "the various moods of time used in psalmody" a table of metronomic equivalents is reproduced (Table II, p. 44), without indication of its derivation.7 One of the most surprising aspects of this chapter is the lack of importance attached to the original character of The Harmony oj Maine. There would be little argument with the statement that "the great majority of tunebooks published during this period are made up of various composers' music and do not constitute the efforts of only one person" (p. 34). But this would seem to provide all the more reason to draw attention to similar ventures which predated Belcher's collection, such as Daniel Read's The American Singing Book (1785), Jacob French's New American Harmony (1789), Abraham Wood's Divine Songs (1789), Samuel Holyoke's Harmonia Americana (1791), Oliver Holden's American Harmony (1792), Jacob Kimball's Rural Harmony (1793), and all of Billings's tunebooks, with the exception of Music in Miniature (1799). While this group is small, it does encompass some of the most influential collections of 18th-century American psalmody. The discussion of "Stylistic Observations" in Chapter IV is "based upon the following aspects: (1) general observations (texture, form, instrumental passages, key signature, time signature, tune names, the possible use of parody technique) ; (2) melody; (3) harmony; (4) text" (p. 2). Although this organization, strongly reminiscent of the fourth chapter of McCormick's dissertation, is generally successful, there are portions of the text which, it seems, could be more effective if combined or redistributed.8 105 The author provides a sound and thorough analysis of Belcher's style, progressing from general observations to more detailed investigations. He is always careful to support his analytical remarks with musical examples, cross-referenced by footnotes to the musical supplement in Volume Two. Such a system presents both advantages and disadvantages; while it is certainly more convenient for the author to copy the music only once and it is more economical to include the music in its complete form in a supplement, the need to refer to a separate volume when checking analytical statements against the music is a definite inconvenience, one that is particularly cumber- some when reading the dissertation on microfilm. Most of the stylistic discussion benefits from the organization and presentation of material, but in several places confusion arises. For example, the fuging-tune is discussed in terms of texture, while the anthem and plain tune are relegated to the domain of form. The author never clearly states whether he considers the fuging-tune a formal type or an aspect of textural variety. This ambiguity is apparent in the statement, "Twenty-four of Belcher's tunes are fuging in form and texture. Although some deviate from the strictest definition of a fuging-tune, they all are sectionalized and contain some sort of imitation in the second section of the tune" (p. 55). This inconsistency in terminology carries over into the discussion ofform, where the fuging-tune is ignored and the formal analysis restricted to those compositions which are "through-composed, each textual phrase being set to different music" (p. 61). Dr. Owen places psalm and hymn tunes, as well as anthems, into this classification. Even though most plain tunes have no phrase repetition within the setting of a single stanza, they are intended to be sung strophically to several stanzas of text. The reader could easily miss the point of the plain tune's strophic organization when it is classified with the truly through-composed anthem. A less confusing classification might base formal considerations on the relationship between the text and the music, and divide the compositions into fuging-tunes, plain tunes (without musical or textual phrase repetition), tunes with extension (with musical and textual phrase repetition), and anthems (set to a prose text in a through-composed manner).9 The author discusses rhythm as an aspect of melody and concentrates on the deployment of rhythm as an organizational factor. It might have been more helpful if the topics of "rhythmic pattern" and "melodic unity" had been united and grouped under the common heading of phrasing. For convenient reference, at the end of the sections on general observations, melody, and harmony, the author provides a capsule summary of that section's salient points. The discussion of Belcher's texts concentrates on a description of the meter and rhyme schemes employed. Possibly the most helpful aspect of Dr. Owen's research on these psalm and hymn texts is presented in chart form in Appen- dix], where the texts are indexed by first line with an indication of meter and origin. The sizeable bibliography is cast in a practical format of books ; periodicals;

106 tunebooks, anthologies, psalters, hymnbooks; unpublished dissertations; and other sources (including personal letters and newspaper clippings). The musical transcriptions of Volume Two are drawn from the three tunebooks mentioned in Chapter III and include all of Belcher's extant music. Editorial emendations are kept to a minimum, and the music is copied neatly and accompanied by "a piano reduction for rehearsal purposes" (p. 2). One aspect of this study demands further comment. In his introduction, Dr. Owen states that one of his objectives is "to determine the reason for Belcher's having been given the title 'Handel of Maine'" (p. 1). The only stylistic reference to Handel which follows occurs on page 70: "It is likely that Belcher's admirers dubbed him 'Handel of Maine' because of his usage of very florid and ornate passages." This conjecture seems naive. This title was first applied to Belcher by the editor of a newspaper in a small New England town.lO It was then passed on by Metcalf, who probably over- estimated its importance. In all probability the name of Handel, commonly encountered in literary magazines of the period, was a convenient epithet to symbolize the idea of a famous composer. It seems doubtful that any stylistic analogy was intended. It might have been helpful, however, if Dr. Owen had traced some references to Handel in contemporaneous newspapers, magazines, concert programs, and tunebooks. Some research has been done in this field already.l1 Dr. Owen's admirable study, nonetheless, has shed some light on another dim corner of American musical historiography and is a welcome addition to the growing standard bibliography of early American psalmody.

NOTES

1 Ralph T. Daniel, The Anthem in New England Biforel800 (Evanston, Illinois, 1966), p. 136. 2 These tunebooks were drawn from an unpublished index compiled by Richard A. Crawford. The reviewer would like to take this opportunity to thank Dr. Crawford for allowing him to quote from this index. Names of tunes are placed in upper case letters throughout this paper. 3 As an adjunct study to his index, Dr. Crawford has compiled a list of the 100 most frequently published tunes. Forty-four of them are by native American composers, but Belcher is not represented. See Dr. Crawford's contribution to Notes (June, 1971). 4 Allen P. Britton and Irving Lowens, "Unlocated Titles in Early Sacred American Music," Notes, Series 2 (1953) II :36. This reference is taken from an advertisement in an 18th-century American newspaper quoted in Evans's American Bibliography. Dr. Owen repro- duces this advertisement in his study. 5 David Wilfred McCormick, "Oliver Holden, Composer and Anthologist," (unpublished S.M.D. dissertation, Union Theological Seminary in the City of New York, 1963), p. 238. 6 Ibid., pp. 74-82. 7 The chart appears to be derived from a much earlier tunebook, William Billings's Singing Master's Assistant (Boston, 1778), as transmitted in Hans Nathan's introduction to the facsimile edition of Billings's Continental Harmony (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1961), p. xi. B Dr. Owen uses a stylistic matrix based on traditional methods of analysis, which, as with similar analyses of other primitive styles, are not always applicable to early American psalmody. 9 See Richard A. Crawford, Andrew Law, American Psalmodist (Evanston, Illinois, 1968),p. 16.

107 10 According to Dr. Owen, the title "The Handell [sic] of Maine" first appeared in the May 10, 1796, edition of The Tocsin, a Hallowell, Maine, newspaper. This reference is reproduced in full in Appendix H. 11 Ralph T. Daniel, "Handel Publications in 18th-Century America," The Musical QuarterlY (1959) 45:168--74, essentially a reprint of the information in Daniel's Ph.D. dissertation, "The Anthem in New England Before 1800," which was published in 1966 by Northwestern University Press; and Virginia Larkin Redway, "Handel in Colonial and Post-Colonial America," The Musical QuarterlY (1935) 21 :190-207. Dr. Owen does not mention either of these articles in his bibliography.

Terence William Bailey-The Ceremonies and Chants oj the Processions oj the Western Church: With Particular Attention to the Practice oj the Cathedral Church oj Salisbury Ann Arbor: University Microfilms (UM order no. 69-1142, 1968. 340 pp. text, 33 pp. music, University of Washington diss.) Charlotte Roederer

"This dissertation proposes to describe and study the ceremonies and chants of the processions of the Western church" (p. 1). With this brief introductory statement Dr. Bailey has proposed an enormous task. The processional repertory is large and diverse, properties which make it an interesting but difficult study. It includes chants which range in style from reciting tone invocations of rogation days to elaborate antiphons of major feasts, antiphons which rival many office responsories in size and complexity. Also included are numerous office chants which double as processional pieces. It is a formidable repertory indeed. Perhaps this is why it has been largely avoided by musicologists despite its importance long acknowledged by students of the medieval carol, the conductus, early polyphony, and liturgical drama. Dr. Bailey wisely singles out one particular practice for special consideration in Part I, that of Salisbury Cathedral, the Sarum rite, because, as he explains, "the Sarum Use was not only universally admired, it was perhaps the most widespread of any ..." (p. 1). Furthermore, "Sarum was to have a greater influence in the matter of liturgical customs than any other single church in Europe" (p. 2). Also recommending the Sarum rite "for a study intended to treat the processions in a context larger than the local ... is (the fact) that the Sarum customs ... were written up ... in such a way as to be general in their application" (p. 3). Finally, the sources are plentiful. "There are more than twenty manuscript Sarum Processionals, or fragments, and at least twenty-five printed editions" (p. 14).

108 In the introduction Dr. Bailey also states the attitude of his approach: " ... this study is very much concerned with the Liturgy. Musicology should ignore nothing which is relevant to music, and the relevance of the liturgy to an investigation of chant can no longer be doubted" (p. 7). To such an approach, this reviewer would respond with a para-liturgical phrase of another era: "Amen, brother!" Dr. Bailey's topical outline is clear and makes the material contained in the dissertation quite accessible. This study falls into two main sections, the first concerned with the Sarum customs, the second with the general practice. Included in Part I is: (I) a description and comparison of all the remaining Sarum Processionals (II) a detailed description of the processions themselves-taken from the rubrics of the service books (III) a discussion of the chants and prayers-demonstrating the role of the music in the processions and its relationship to the Liturgy, and a transcription of all of the special Sarum processional music (IV) an account of the history and development of the processions and their music from the founding of the Cathedral to the Reformation. Part II of the study demonstrates the universality of the Sarum customs, discusses local differences, outlines the earliest history of the customs and music, and includes an examination of the processional musical repertory of the whole of the Western Church-Sarum's included (pp. 10-11). The author displays his greatest expertise in the first half of the study. In Chapter I he concentrates on detailing the contents of the manuscripts and their state of preservation. Several good attempts are made to account for the presence or absence of certain feasts. Dr. Bailey cites, for instance, the adoption of St. Anne's feast in 1383, ordered by Urban VI to popularize the marriage of Anne of Bohemia to Richard III. Chapter II, also quite interesting, contains translations and paraphrases so extensive that the uninitiated reader can begin to visualize the actual route of the procession and the conduct of the participants. The third chapter approaches the music. Dr. Bailey rightly recognizes the importance not only of the antiphons which are restricted to processional use but also of the many antiphons, responds, versicles, and prayers from other services which are borrowed for various processions. However, he realisti- cally transcribes only the "special Sarum processional music" (p. 10). His transcriptions are based on Oxford, Bodleian Ms. Rawl. lit. d. 4., and are presented without commentary, that being deferred until the end of the study. Both text and music are written out free-hand with no particular attempt to reflect the structure of the pieces. The melody is transcribed in undifferentiated eighth notes. With all the notes of a melisma barred

109 together, numerous barrings of a dozen or more notes are created. Thus, not only is the transcription not particularly enlightening but, what is worse, it also obscures the neumatic configurations. Apart from whatever rhythmic implications they might have, the neume groupings are often very useful melodic units to consider in analyzing chant. Chapter IV returns to ceremonial matters. For this section Dr. Bailey draws not only on the processionals themselves but also on various versions of the Consuetudinary, the oldest dating from between 1173 and 1203. De- velopment of the ceremony ended by 1545, when Henry VIII effectively abolished the processional, apparently by issuing an injunction limiting the accompaniment of processions to the litany. Part II of the study, which deals with the general practice, is less satis- factory than Part I. The approach remains sound, and as a compilation of available source material, it is useful. However, the subject is far too large to be treated in more than a cursory manner. The section opens with a listing of 106 sources-antiphonals, processionals, ordinaries, customaries-arranged by century and country but not by type of source. There is no indication of whether they are notated or not, although one familiar with medieval sources can usually make an accurate guess. Nor is there any indication of the nature of the compilation. The comment that "it was learned too late for them to be consulted that two eleventh-century Nonantola tropers in Rome (Ms. Bibl. Casanate 1741 and Ms. Bibl. Nazionale 1343) contain processional antiphons" (pp. 141-42) indicates that perhaps this study is not so complete as it could be. Brief perusal of the Solesmes Sources volume or the RISM Tropen- und Sequenzen-Handschriften volume will turn up many more manuscripts containing processional pieces. (Of course, the RISM catalogue of processionals will identify many more when it is published.) The bibliographical nature of the study does not create serious problems for the liturgical sections of the second hal£ The treatment is simply descriptive, with little opportunity for discussion of the liturgical implications of the ceremonies. In the musical chapters, however, the superficial treatment is frustrating. For example, Table 2 on page 295 lists "the distribution of Palm Sunday pieces in sixteen of the oldest chant sources." But no solid conclusions can be drawn from this array because the choice of manuscripts is not sufficiently focused. Included in the Table from the author's 106 sources are Paris, Bib!. Nat. fonds latin 1240 and Paris, Bib!. Nat. fonds latin 1121. But not included among the 106 is Paris, Bibl. Nat. fonds latin 909, a manuscript which is contemporary with and closely related to Paris, Bibl. Nat. fonds latin 1121. In fact, they are so similar in the processional that their divergence with respect to the Palm Sunday processional is especially significant. Paris 1121 transmits a repertory of a dozen processional pieces, but Paris 909 contains two processional sections, one of which transmits the more austere Cluniac Palm Sunday tradition that allows for only one processional hymn, the famous Gloria laus et honor. The fine liturgical study Palmenweihe und Palmenprozession in der lateinischen Liturgie by Hermann ]. Graf SVD

110 (Steyler Verlagsbuchhandlung Kaldenkirchen, Germany, 1959) could have helped in this section. The author postpones the musical analysis of the Sarum antiphons until after he has considered the general practice, because "individual pieces of plainchant seldom reveal their significant features except in relation to others of the same family ... " (p. 11). This attitude is well taken. But it is equally true that individual pieces-of plainchant or of any other kind of music- seldom reveal their significant features except when they are studied indi- vidually in great detail. Because he continually tries to deal with the whole repertory, Dr. Bailey's analytical observations are usually not particularly penetrating. Dr. Bailey's commendable concern for the total context has left him little space or energy to deal with the repertory from a stylistic point of view. Such "biting off more than one can chew" is not atypical of doctoral dissertations. In Dr. Bailey's case, the basic approach is sound enough for his results to be quite useful to anyone doing the further research still needed in the field. This usefulness is enhanced by the clarity of the entire study, both in organization and in style. The reader would have appreciated an index to the chants transcribed. They are scattered throughout the text in Chapter III and can be found readily only by the reader already familiar with the repertory and its usual liturgical distribution. Since the author is very much concerned with the ceremonies, an index of references to feasts also would have helped the reader a great deal. As the text stands, a reader interested in a given feast must seek and find for himself the many references to it. For instance, a few of the comments about Palm Sunday include: pp. 39-41 description of Sarum procedure, translation of some rubrics; pp.66-74 transcription of Sarum special antiphons; p. 184 footnote on relationship of Palm Sunday procession to practice of stational churches; pp. 211-214 form and constitution of the procession outside of Sarum; p.316 woodcut from Sarum processional of the Palm Sunday, Blessing of Branches. It may be inappropriate for a reviewer to do an excessive amount of second-guessing, but it seems that this dissertation might have been made more interesting had the author confined himself throughout to the Sarum repertory. One of the most important stylistic questions which might be treated entirely within the Sarum tradition and then transferred to other areas is: What is the stylistic relationship, if any, between those chants which were special processional pieces and those which were borrowed for processions from the offices? Dr. Bailey goes into some detail as to exactly which chants (ordinarily Matins responds) were used. Moreover, some of the "special chants" were not only labeled as responds but were also performed as such. A more detailed examination of individual Sarum chants

111 would also have been interesting. As the study stands, there is no consideration of any given antiphon as a musico-liturgical entity. In summation, Dr. Bailey treats the ceremonies of the processions of the Sarum rite very well. The treatment of the ceremonies of the whole Western church, though more cursory, is still useful. However, the discussion of the chants provides only a tantalizing introduction to a very large and interesting repertory.

Jay Weldon Wilkey-Certain Aspects oj Form zn the Vocal Music oj Alban Berg Ann Arbor: University Microfilms (UM order no. 65-10,911, 1965. 281 pp., Indiana University diss.) Fred Hauptman

The music of Alban Berg presents an unusual challenge to the analyst. Berg's eclecticism and stylistic freedom prevent a totally systematic approach and lead writers to unfounded generalizations. Most of the writing on Berg is by authors who are not theoreticians, and real weaknesses in the older analyses have been exposed by recent critical works, such as that of George Perle. Therefore, extended theoretical studies, such as that undertaken in this dissertation, are necessary if the elements of Berg's expressive but elusive style are to be finally clarified. The purpose of the study is "to trace the development of two formal phenomena in the vocal music of Alban Berg, namely his use of serial technique and his use of traditional forms" (p. iii). Dr. Wilkey examines all of Berg's published music with voice, including Der Wein and the two operas. After introductory chapters on the Schoenberg school in general and on the basically Romantic nature of Berg's early works, there are five chapters that attempt to show a clear line of serial development from the Sieben friihe Lieder to Lulu. The "phenomenon" of "traditional form" is then discussed in two chapters, one on "contrapuntal procedures," the second on "sectional forms." These are followed by a summary and bibliography. The topics discussed in the dissertation are important ones. Indeed, each of the "aspects" chosen could profitably be the subject ofa separate volume, and their alliance here seems somewhat arbitrary, causing the author to discuss most works twice in order to maintain his two-part organization. This would be a minor inconvenience to the reader if the study achieved its aims. Unfortunately, despite some insights, it leaves a great many questions unanswered. The first chapter teaches us nothing new about the relationship of the 112 Schoenberg school with the past. After making the assertion that atonality (!) and serial composition were the "innovations" of Schoenberg and his followers, Dr. Wilkey states that "analogies can be seen between concentrated thematic development and serial composition" (p. 6). This is to be the main thrust of his attempt to show that the earlier works of Berg have serial tendencies. The chapter discussing Berg's early Romanticism makes valid reference to the influences of Brahms, Schumann, and Wolf without ever being detailed enough for this type of ostensibly exhaustive study. What is there about Schliesse mir die Augen beide that reminds one of "Robert Schumann or a young Johannes Brahms?" In this section the author comes to grips with the question of French Impressionist influence on Berg. There are many aspects of Berg's music that seem to bear out the relationship-whole-tone melodies and harmonies, parallel chords, instrumental refinements, etc. Yet Berg apparently had little interest in French music. In his published lecture on Wozzeck (reprinted in Redlich's biography) Berg speaks of the "vague and bottomless sonorities" of the Impressionists. Dr. Wilkey hypothesizes that Berg was influenced instead by Franz Schrecker and refers to Berg's piano reduction of Schrecker's Der ferne Klang for Universal Edition, as well as the friendship of the two composers. This is an interesting idea which is left hanging, perhaps because it does not bear upon the central premises of the dissertation. Again, some specific reference to Der ferne Klang, a score explicitly cited by Dr. Wilkey, would have been most useful. The analyses of Berg's early songs contained in the next chapter constitute the most valuable part of the dissertation. Each of the Sieben fruhe Lieder and the Vier Lieder, Op. 2, is discussed from the point of view ofmotivic organization. These discussions make it amply clear that Schoenberg's principle of "continuous variation" was thoroughly applied by Berg and that Op. 2 is harmonically unified in a manner similar to that employed in many Schoen- berg works, such as Erwartung. Errors do creep in: there is an F Minor triad in Schilflied (bar 17); and the opening of Traumgekront is not tonally "obscure" but clearly an elaboration of the dominant ofG Minor, with an augmented- sixth impression that strengthens rather than weakens the tonal pull. How- ever, since there has been no comparable study of these songs published, students and performers would do well to seek out Dr. Wilkey's explications of the complex motivic manipulations so characteristic of Berg. The applicability of these analyses to the theory that the early songs show serial tendencies is less certain. The idea that motivic economy is a pre- cursor of the twelve-tone technique inevitably leads to a tiresome search through music history for precedents of dubious relevance. On page 31 Bach and Mozart (why those two?) are cited as showing the historical roots of serial thinking, and on page 3 isorhythmic motets are marshalled as evidence. If there are any uniquefy pre-serial devices in the early Berg songs, they are not uncovered in the dissertation. The example of "octave-dis- placement" found at the end of Nacht is irrelevant-the repetition of a 113 cadential figure in a different octave is hardly evidence of serial thought. The analyses of Berg's song are valuable although they do not prove Wilkey's thesis. The fourth chapter deals with the Altenburg Lieder, Op. 4. In light of the availability of Leibowitz's analysis of these songs in The Musical Quarterly XXXIV (1948), as well as a dissertation by Mark DeVoto on Op. 4, the material in this chapter does not contribute much that is new. Dr. Wilkey admits that Leibowitz was a "great aid" to him, and, in fact, his analysis is basically an extended rewriting of the Leibowitz article. However, a few new points are made, and some of Leibowitz's errors are corrected (for example, his misreading of the final pedal chord of the fourth song). N ever- theless, Dr. Wilkey's approach is too derivative to be valuable as original work. The chapter on Wozzeck is divided into three parts: thematic usage, harmonic practice, and specific serial techniques. The first two sections add little to the sum of our knowledge of the opera, but the final portion includes, among other things, a detailed study of the passacaglia in Act I, Scene 4, and a good analysis of Act III, Scene 1. There are some weaknesses-the derivation of the passacaglia theme from the harmonic series of Act I, Scene 2, is unconvincing owing to the confusion over transpositions; the top brace of Example III is accidentally left untransposed (it should be a minor third higher); and the note B, although absent from the actual canon beginning in bar 97 of Act III, is present as a pedal throughout its duration. Despite these flaws the chapter does succeed in throwing some new light upon a much discussed score. Der Wein, on the other hand, has been scantily treated by writers on Berg; published analyses are limited to discussions of the formal structure and sketchy descriptions of the serial techniques. Dr. Wilkey fills this lacuna with some success, especially in providing examples of serially derived harmony. He is unfortunately prone to vagueness here, and blanket statements such as "the vocal line consists primarily of various presentations of the basic set" (p. 160) are surprising in the context of this dissertation, in which the author was most careful with the early songs. One would have hoped to find a closely worked study of melodic material in Der Wein as a means of uniting Berg's pre-serial and serial works. Similarly, since Dr. Wilkey is later revealed as a defender of Reich, it is curious that he does not discuss the pertinent section of the Reich book, with its printed facsimile of Berg's hand showing a different form of the row as prime (actually 19 of the prime given by other analysts and Dr. Wilkey, himself). Lulu is the most complex and controversial of Berg's serial compositions. Dr. Wilkey's views on the work are somewhat perplexing. In a summary of the published literature on Lulu, he defends Reich's statement, ostensibly derived from Berg himself, that the opera is based on a single twelve-tone row. George Perle's article in JAMS (1959) is exhaustively paraphrased, but Perle's argument that the secondary sets were not derived by the obtusely numerical means reported by Reich but chosen for "compositional" reasons 114 (such as partial identity or similarity with each other and the Basic Series) is apparently rejected. The second part of the chapter presents analyses of three sections of the opera: the Prologue, the closing theme of the sonata in Act I, and the "Lied der Lulu." In this section Dr. Wilkey purports to supplant Perle's "new analysis" by producing a "newer" one. However, his description of the opera's serial structure seems to be merely a combination of Reich and Perle. Reich's set derivations are faithfully followed. The sets not discussed by Reich (Athlete, Schoolboy, Casti-Piani) are derived in a similarly numerical fashion, drawing on a passage in Perle in which these three sets are derived "after the manner of Reich, for those who prefer the authorized analysis" (Perle, p. 196). The authority for all this is apparently Berg, with Reich as his mouthpiece (Dr. Wilkey thinks that Berg "perhaps forgot" about the sets omitted by Reich), yet Berg's other form of the Der Wein set was not mentioned. The choice of the Prologue for analysis was unfortunate, as that section is treated in some detail by Perle (it is the only section Perle discusses fully) and there is little left for Dr. Wilkey to add. The material in the other two analyses is worthwhile in that it presents some examples of serially derived harmony in a work not noted for its strictness. The reader expecting a "newer analysis," however, will be disappointed. The two chapters on form seem to be a sort of appendage, belying the original double purpose of the dissertation, as they consist of unconvincing attempts to connect the use of a "traditional form" with textual interpretation. The conclusions are occasionally convincing, but these chapters are serviceable only as a catalogue offorms in Berg's vocal music. As usual in the dissertation, when original analyses-in-depth are present, they are much more interesting than the contextual material. The analysis of Dr. Schoen's strophic aria in Act II of Lulu is a case in point. In general, Dr. Wilkey's dissertation is weakened by its duality of purpose. Furthermore, such important questions as the use of pitch or "tonal" relations in Berg's larger forms (the sonata form in Lulu, for example), are virtually ignored. Nevertheless, the Berg student searching for information will find some of the analyses quite useful.

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