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Mozart's Viennese copyists
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Copyright 2001
MOZART S VIENNESE COPYISTS
VOLUME I
by
Dexter Edge
A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
in Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
(MUSIC HISTORY AND LITERATURE)
December 2001
Dexter Edge
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
This dissertation, written by
Dexter Edge
under the direction o f his Dissertation
Committee, and approved by its members,
has been presented to and accepted by The
Graduate School, in partial fulfillment o f re
quirements for the degree o f
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
’ .an of Graduate Studies
Date.
DISSERTATION COMMITTEE
Chairperson
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
Dedicated to the memory of
Alan Tyson
(27 October 1926 - 10 November 2000)
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
Dexter Edge
Bruce Alan Brown
ABSTRACT
MOZARTS VIENNESE COPYISTS
Previous Mozart scholars have paid little attention to non-autograph Viennese copies of
Mozart’s music. Yet a surprising number of Viennese manuscript copies can be directly linked
with the composer. Such non-autograph manuscripts occasionally provide sources for works
whose autographs are lost, or reflect authorized revisions that Mozart did not enter into his
autographs. Such copies may also shed new light on performance practice, reception, and
Mozart’s biography.
This dissertation first establishes a contextual and methodological framework for the
investigation and analysis of early Viennese manuscript copies of Mozart’s music. Chapter 2
examines the musical and professional background of music copying in Vienna in the late
eighteenth century. Chapter 3 deals with the analysis of musical manuscripts, with special
emphasis on the identification of anonymous musical handwriting and the analysis of music
paper. Chapter 4 offers a critique of the concept of “authenticity’ * of copyists and copies, and
suggests a more nuanced taxonomy. The remainder of the dissertation deals with specific copies
and copyists. Chapter 5 discusses Joseph Arthofer, who worked for Mozart in 1783. Chapter 6
deals with the most important (still anonymous) Viennese copyist to have worked for Mozart,
here called Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1. Chapter 7 discusses the commercial Viennese music
copyist Johann Traeg. Chapter 8 treats the non-autograph manuscripts in Mozart’s “estate.”
Chapter 9 examines the Mozart manuscripts produced by the shop of Wenzel Sukowaty, chief
music copyist of the Viennese court theater from around 1776 to 1796, with special attention to
the original orchestral parts horn the first production of Le nozze di Figaro in 1786, and the first
Viennese production of Don Giovanni in 1788. Chapter 10 analyzes the recently discovered
attributions to Mozart in a Viennese score of the Singspiel Der Stein der Weisen. Chapter 11
summarizes the larger themes of the dissertation and suggests directions for future research.
Appendices include additional facsimiles of copyist handwriting and facsimiles of important
watermarks, as well as a complete facsimile of the original performing score of the aria “Alma
grande e nobil core,” K. 578, the autograph of which is lost.
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
DEDICATION............................................................................................................. ii
LIST OF TABLES................................................................................................... x
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS................................................................................... xvii
LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES......................................................................... xxxii
ABBREVIATIONS................................................................................................. xxxiv
PREFACE................................................................................................................ xxxviii
Chapter Page
1. Introduction................................................................................................ I
Mozart and Viennese music copyists: documentary evidence... 8
Previous studies of Mozart’s Viennese copyists......................... 30
Scope............................................................................................... 38
Issues............................................................................................... 41
The contexts of music copying............................................ 41
The identification of musical handwriting and the analysis of
m usical manuscripts................................................ 42
“Authenticity” .................................................................. 43
Biography and chronology................................................. 45
The history of composition and performance......................... 47
Distribution and reception................................................... 48
The m usical “work” and the theory of editing........................ 49
Methodology.................................................................................... 50
2. Music Copying in Eighteenth-Century Vienna: Terms and Contexts 53
Terms.............................................................................................. 53
Why were copies created?.............................................................. 70
Who copied?.................................................................................... 72
Where were copies created?.......................................................... 1 00
Organization of labor..................................................................... 116
Materials and expenses.................................................................. 119
Rates of payment............................................................................ 135
Marketing........................................................................................ 139
Vorlagen.......................................................................................... 150
Accuracy.......................................................................................... 155
Conclusion....................................................................................... 160
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iv
3. The Analysis of Manuscript Music and Musical Handwriting 161
Introduction.................................................................................... 161
Is the manuscript an original or a copy?................................ 164
Is the manuscript “Viennese”?............................................. 164
D oes the manuscript date from Mozart's lifetime?.................. 169
Pens and inks.................................................................................. 175
The identification of musical handwriting................................... 192
Studies of m usic copying and m usic copyists........................ 195
Studies of m usical handwriting............................................ 202
The m ethods of questioned-document examiners.................... 225
A m ethod for the identification of musical handwriting 254
An exam ple: Mozart's mature public musical hand............... 301
The analysis of music paper.......................................................... 323
Papermaking and watermarks.............................................. 324
Staff ruling....................................................................... 354
The distribution and use of m usic paper................................ 381
Summary......................................................................................... 409
4. Kinds of Copyists and Kinds of Copies................................................. 439
“Authenticity” of copyists and copies........................................... 439
Kinds of authority.......................................................................... 462
Kinds of manuscripts..................................................................... 466
Autographs...................................................................... 467
Copies associated with Mozart............................................ 471
Copies not associated with Mozart....................................... 475
Kinds of Mozart copyists............................................................... 476
Copyists working for Mozart.............................................. 476
Copyists working indirectly for Mozart................................ 477
Copyists not directly associated with Mozart......................... 477
Posthum ous copyists......................................................... 478
Conclusion...................................................................................... 478
5. Joseph Arthofer........................................................................................ 480
Biography....................................................................................... 486
Arthofer’s musical hand................................................................. 499
Arthofer’s Mozart copies............................................................... 504
6. Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1 .................................................................... 540
The musical hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1....................... 542
Sources by Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1 containing Mozart’s
handwriting........................................................................... 578
Piano Concerto in B-flat, K . 456 (score in RUS-Mcm)............ 578
Piano Sonata in C minor, K . 457 (IL-J)................................. 580
Sym phony in G minor, K . 550 (parts in A-Gk)...................... 583
Piano Trio in G, K . 564 (partly autograph score, PL-Kj) 603
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
V
Acis und Galatea, K. 566 (partly autograph score, PL-Kj) 604
Der Messias, K. 572 (partly autograph score. Lobkowitz
archive)................................................................................... 606
Sources by Viennese Mozart-Copyist I whose provenance
may connect them with M ozart or with his “estate” 608
Recitative and Aria No. 16 “Parto m’affretto,” from Lucio
Silla, K . 135 (D-FU1).................................................... 608
Symphony in D, adapted from the “Haffner” Serenade. K. 250
(viola part D-B)........................................................... 6 i 1
Symphony in B-flat K. 319 (D-DO and A-Gk)......................... 615
Symphony in C, K. 338 (A-Gk)............................................... 627
Aria, “Ah questo seno deh vieni... Or che il cielo a me ti
rende." K. 374 (D-FUl)................................................. 636
Masonic song, “Ihrunsre neuen Leiter,” K. 484 (D-FUl) 641
Der Messias, K. 572 (parts. Lobkowitz archive)....................... 644
Die Zauberflote, K. 620 (score. I-MOe)................................... 647
Duettino, No. 3. “Deh prendi un dolce amplesso,” from La
clemenza di Tito, K. 621 (D-B)...................................... 653
Aria. “lo ti lascio, o cant addio,” K . 621 a (A-Sm).................... 655
Sources whose association with Mozart or attribution to
Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1 is an open question.................. 663
Symphony in D, K . 181, and Symphony in B-flat. K. 182
(A-Gk)......................................................................... 663
Symphony in C, K. 200 (A-Gk)............................................... 672
Concerto in F for Three Keyboards, K . 242 (D-B).................... 673
Partial Score of the Wind Serenade in C minor, K. 388
(GB-Lbl)...................................................................... 693
Das Bandel, K. 441 (D-Mbs).................................................. 694
The “Nottumi.” K . 346. K. 436. K. 437. K. 438, K. 439. and
K. 549 (D-B and A-Wgm)............................................. 699
Sonata in D for Two Pianos, K. 448 (D-B)............................... 708
Piano Concerto in F, K. 459, first-movement cadenza (D-B).... 709
Sources by Viennese Mozart-Copyist I that are probably not
directly associated with M ozart............................................... 710
Variations in C for Solo Keyboard on “Ah vous dirai-je,
Maman,” K. 265 (F-Pn)................................................ 710
Variations in G for Keyboard and Violin on “La Bergere
Celimdne,” K . 359 (D-B).............................................. 7 11
Variations in G minor for Keyboard and Violin on "Helas, j’ai
perdu mon amant,” K. 360 (D-B).................................. 712
Aria, “Per pieti, non ricercate,” K. 420 (D-B).......................... 712
Quartet, “Dite almeno, in che mancai,” K. 479 (D-B)............... 715
Marcellina’s aria. “II capro e la capretta,” from Le nozze di
Figaro, K. 492 (D-B).................................................... 716
Aria for Soprano and Solo Piano, “Ch’io mi scordi di te...
Non temer, amato bene,” K. 505 (D-B, A-Wgm. and
A-Wn)......................................................................... 717
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
vi
D iscussion............................................................................................... 723
Viennese M ozart-Copyist I as a copyist o f music by composers
other than M ozart........................................................................ 725
The identity o f Viennese M ozart-Copyist 1.................................... 743
7. Johann T raeg..................................................................................................... 749
Biography................................................................................................ 749
Traeg’s catalogues................................................................................. 762
Traeg’s advertisements o f M ozart’s w orks...................................... 786
Mozart in Traeg’s 1799 catalogue..................................................... 871
Traeg’s Mozart copies........................................................................... 904
The Lannoy Collection (A-Gk)................................................ 913
Traeg 1................................................................................... 937
Traeg 2 (Silverstolpe A ).......................................................... 944
Traeg 3 ................................................................................... 959
Traeg 4 (Sukowaty 9 )............................................................ 961
Traeg 5 ................................................................................... 967
Traeg 6 ................................................................................... 971
Miscellaneous Traeg copies..................................................... 981
Copies without Traeg numbers................................................ 994
Sum m ary................................................................................................. 995
8. M ozart’s “Estate” ............................................................................................ 998
Constanze Mozart and Johann Anton A ndre.................................... 998
Andre ’ s “authentic” m anuscripts....................................................... 10 7 1
The Nachlafi o f Heinrich Henkel....................................................... 1082
Manuscript copies probably in Constanze’s initial shipment to
A ndr6.............................................................................................. 1086
K. 295 (D-F)........................................................................... 1098
K. 318 (D-F) and Viennese Mozart-Copyist 3 ......................... 1110
Sinfonia Concertante in G, K. 320 (D-F).................................. 1131
K. 374 (D-FUl)....................................................................... 1139
K. 431 (D-FUI) and Viennese Mozart-Copyist 3 ...................... 1140
Peter Rampl (Anonymous 63) and the autograph of
K. 375 (a 8).................................................................. 1166
Johann Radnitzky................................................................... 1199
Miscellaneous items in Constanze’s initial shipment
to Andre....................................................................... 1214
Non-autograph manuscripts whose relationship to Constanze’s
initial shipment is uncertain...................................................... 1221
Keyboard Concerto in D, K . 175 (D-FUl and D-OF)................ 1222
Symphony in B-flat, K. 182 (D-B).......................................... 1227
Lost manuscripts..................................................................... 1228
Manuscript copies probably acquired by Andre after
Constanze’s initial shipm ent..................................................... 1231
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
vii
Replacements for missing sections in the autograph of
Don Giovanni (Peter RampI)......................................... 1231
The lost manuscript of K. 407.................................................. 1242
Arias from the “Magazino di Musica” ...................................... 1247
M iscellaneous manuscript copies formerly in the possession of
the Andr6 fam ily......................................................................... 1250
A case study: M ozart’s parts for the aria K. 4 1 6 ........................... 1256
Background of the aria and its sources...................................... 1257
Description of the parts........................................................... 1260
Discussion.............................................................................. 1271
Summary and Conclusions.................................................................. 1274
The content of Constanze’s initial shipment to Andre............... 1275
Mozart’s “estate".................................................................... 1277
Performing parts associated with Mozart’s Viennese concerts... 1278
Other manuscripts that may have belonged to Mozart............... 1289
Manuscripts that did not belong to Mozart................................ 1289
Copyists in Mozart’s estate....................................................... 1290
Constanze Mozart. Johann Anton Andre, and the construction
of the Mozart canon...................................................... 1291
9. Wenzel Sukowaty and the Copy Shop of the Viennese Court Theater 1294
Biography ............................................................................................... 1295
Sukowaty and the court theater.......................................................... 1319
The organization o f Sukowaty ’ s shop................................................ 1357
Sukow aty’s Mozart copies for the court theater............................. 1362
Die Entfiihrung aus dem Serail................................................. 1370
Insertion arias for 1 1 curioso indiscreto.................................... 1384
“Dite almeno, in che mancai.” K. 479, and “Mandina
amabile.” K . 480........................................................... 1399
Der Schauspieldirektor........................................................... 1415
Le nozze di Figaro.................................................................. 1416
The Viennese Don Giovanni of 1788....................................... 1742
Mozart’s insertion arias of 1788 and 1789................................ 1866
Cost fan tutte.......................................................................... 1922
The accompanied recitative for the aria “Con sola pur mia
bella,” in La quacquera spirituosa (1 790), K. deest 1961
Summary................................................................................ 1974
Sukowaty as commercial copyist and his secondary copies of
works by M ozart......................................................................... 1974
Sukowaty’s advertisements in the Wiener Zeitung of music by
Mozart......................................................................... 1975
Sukowaty’s commercial copies of music by Mozart................. 1982
Court theater copies after Sukowaty......................................... 1993
S um m ary................................................................................................. 1995
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
viii
10. Kaspar WeiB and the Copy Shop of the Theater auf der Wieden 1998
Kaspar WeiB................................................................................... 2008
The Hamburg score of Der Stein der Weisen............................... 2014
Paper-types...................................................................... 2016
Copyists........................................................................... 2022
The question of authenticity................................................. 2042
The identity of Stein D (Stein 4).......................................... 2051
Discussion....................................................................... 2057
Other manuscripts from the Theater auf der Wieden................... 2063
Summary......................................................................................... 2065
11. Summary and Conclusions...................................................................... 2068
Summary and directions for future research................................ 2068
Summary of principal issues......................................................... 2097
The contexts of m usic copying............................................ 2098
The identification of musical handwriting and the analysis of
m usical manuscripts................................................. 2103
“Authenticity” .................................................................. 2106
Biography and chronology.................................................. 2109
The history of composition and performance......................... 2111
Distribution and reception................................................... 2114
The m usical “work” and the theory of editing........................ 2115
BIBLIOGRAPHY.................................................................................................... 2119
Appendix A William Lewis’s Discussion of Iron-gall Inks, in Commercium
Philosophico-Technicum (1763).......................................... 2153
Appendix B Payments to Wenzel Sukowaty by the Viennese Court Theater
for Copying Music, 1776-97................................................ 2164
Appendix C Premieres and Revivals of Operas and Singspiele in the
Viennese Court Theaters 1778-96........................................ 2183
Appendix D Sukowaty’s Copyists....................................................................... 2218
Appendix E Concordance of Numbers and Scenes, Le nozze di Figaro 2332
Appendix F Facsimiles of Watermark Tracings................................................ 2337
Appendix G Extended Facsimiles of Manuscripts............................................. 2370
G. 1. The Court Theater’s Original Performing Score of “Alma
grande e nobil core,” K . 578 (A-W n, KT 56)............... 2371
G.2 The Court Theater’s Original Perform ing Score of the Sim ple
Recitative Preceding M artin y Soler’s “Vado, m a
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
ix
dove?," from 1 1 burbero di buon cuore
(A-Wn, K T 70)............................................................ 2402
G.3 The Court Theater’s Original Performing Score of an
Unattributed Accompanied Recitative Preceding
Mozart’s Insertion Aria “Vado, ma dove?.” K. 583
(A-W n, KT 70).............................................................. 2407
Appendix H Unpublished Advertisements by Viennese Copyists of Works
by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart............................................ 2414
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
X
LIST OF TABLES
Table Page
2.1 Music Copyists and Dealers Listed in the Viennese Totenbeschau-
protokoll, 1775-1800...................................................................... 76
3.1 An Attempt at a Chronological Reconstruction of Mozart’s Paper-
Types and Their Approximate Dates of Acquisition, December
1780 to September 1791................................................................. 411
5.1 Manuscript Copies by Joseph Arthofer of Works by Wolfgang
Amadeus Mozart............................................................................. 506
5.2a Parts for the Symphony in D, K. 320, A-Gk, 40.572 (Lannoy 56)...... 525
5.2b Parts for the Symphony in D, K. 320, A-Gk, 40.572 (Lannoy 56).
Paper-types and Copyists............................................................... 526
6.1 Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1 (VMC-1): Manuscript Copies of Works
by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart...................................................... 549
6.2a Parts for the Symphony in G minor, K. 550, A-Gk, 40.600
(Lannoy 39).................................................................................... 585
6.2b Parts for the Symphony in G minor, K. 550, A-Gk, 40.600
(Lannoy 39). Paper-types and Copyists....................................... 587
6.3a Parts for the Symphony in B-flat, K. 319, A-Gk, 40.602 (Lannoy 44) 618
6.3b Parts for the Symphony in B-flat, K. 319, A-Gk, 40.602 (Lannoy
44). Paper-types and Copyists...................................................... 619
6.4a Parts for the Symphony in C, K. 338, A-Gk, 40.570 (Lannoy 51)...... 630
6.4b Parts for the Symphony in C, K. 338, A-Gk, 40.570 (Lannoy 51).
Paper-types and Copyists............................................................... 632
6.5 Der Messias, K. 572, Original Performing Parts (Lobkowitz
Archive). Parts Copied by Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1............. 645
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xi
6.6 “Authentic” Parts for Mozart’s Symphonies in the GleiBner
Catalogue and the Andr£ Catalogues of 1833 and 1841............. 669
6.7 Manuscript Copies by Edge 115.............................................................. 683
6.8 Viennese Mozart-Copyist I: Manuscript Copies of Works by
Composers other than Mozart....................................................... 728
7.1 Abbreviations in Traeg’s Catalogue of 1799 .......................................... 774
7.2 Johann Traeg’s Advertisements of Works by Mozart, 1782-1791 ....... 789
7.3 Symphonies by Mozart in Traeg’s 1799 Catalogue (Division I,
Section 2)......................................................................................... 807
7.4 Concertos by Mozart in Traeg’s 1799 Catalogue (Division II,
Sections A and B )........................................................................... 814
7.5 Variations by Mozart in Traeg’s 1799 Catalogue (Division II,
Section K)........................................................................................ 820
7.6 Masses by Mozart in Traeg’s 1799 Catalogue (Division III,
Section 33)....................................................................................... 830
7.7 Johann Traeg’s Advertisements of Works by Mozart, 1792-1798...... 843
7.8a Sinfonia Concertante in E-flat, K. 364, Complete Orchestral Parts,
D-Mbs, Mus. mss. 6843................................................................. 873
7.8b Sinfonia Concertante in E-flat, K. 364, Complete Orchestral Parts,
D-Mbs, Mus. mss. 6843. Paper-types and Copyists................... 875
7.9 Quintets under Mozart’s Name in Traeg’s 1799 Catalogue
(Division I, Section 18).................................................................. 900
7.10 Mozart Sources with Traeg Catalogue Numbers................................... 907
7.11 Manuscript Parts for Mozart Symphonies in the Lannoy Collection,
Graz, Hochschule ftir Musik und Darstellende Kunst (A-Gk).... 917
7.12 Traeg I. Manuscript Copies of Works by Wolfgang Amadeus
Mozart............................................................................................. 938
7.13 Traeg 2 (Silverstolpe A). Manuscript Copies of Works by Wolfgang
Amadeus Mozart............................................................................. 948
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xii
8.1 A Hypothetical Reconstruction of Andre’s List of Queries (from his
Lost Letter to Constanze of 2 May 1800) Regarding Items
Listed in Mozart’s Verzeichnufi, but not Included in the
16 Packets Shipped to Offenbach on 9 January 1800.................. 1047
8.2 “Authentic” Non-Autograph Manuscripts in GleiBner’s Catalogue
and in Andre’s Catalogues of 1833 and 1841.............................. 1074
8.3 Manuscript Copies Probably in Constanze Mozart’s Initial Shipment
to Andr6 in January 1800............................................................... 1088
8.4a Parts for the Tenor Aria, “Se al labbro mio non credi,” K. 295, D-F,
Mus. Hs. 626.................................................................................... 1102
8.4b Parts for the Tenor Aria, “Se al labbro mio non credi,” K. 295, D-F,
Mus. Hs. 626. Paper-types and Copyists..................................... 1103
8.5a Parts for the Symphony in G, K. 318, D-F, Mus. Hs. 208..................... 1112
8.5b Parts for the Symphony in G, K. 318, D-F, Mus. Hs. 208. Paper-
types and Copyists.......................................................................... 1113
8.6a Parts for the Sinfonia Concertante in G, K. 320, D-F, Mus.
Hs. 209............................................................................................. 1134
8.6b Parts for the Sinfonia Concertante in G, K. 320, D-F, Mus. Hs. 209.
Paper-types and Copyists............................................................... 11 36
8.7a Parts for the Recitative and Aria for Soprano, “A questo seno deh
vieni. . . Or che il cielo a me ti rende,” K. 374, D-FUl,
M 115.............................................................................................. 1141
8.7b Parts for the Recitative and Aria for Soprano, “A questo seno deh
vieni. . . Or che il cielo a me ti rende,” K. 374, D-FUI,
M 115. Paper-types..and Copyists............................................... 1142
8.8a Parts for the Recitative and Aria for Tenor, “Misero! o sogno, o son
desto? . . . Aura, che intomo spin,” K. 431 (425b), D-FUl,
M 309.............................................................................................. U52
8.8b Parts for the Recitative and Aria for Tenor, “Misero! o sogno, o son
desto? . . . Aura, che intomo spin,” K. 431 (425b), D-FUl,
M 309. Paper-types and Copyists............................................... 1153
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xiii
8.9 Peter Rampl. Manuscript Copies of Works by Wolfgang Amadeus
Mozart............................................................................................. 1173
8.10 Non-Autograph Manuscript Copies Whose Relationship to
Constanze’s Initial Shipment is Uncertain................................... 1224
8.11 Non-Autograph Manuscript Copies Probably Acquired by Andre
after Constanze Mozart’s Initial Shipment of January 1800....... 1232
8.12 Miscellaneous Non-Autograph Manuscripts Formerly in Andre’s
Possession........................................................................................ 1251
8.13a Orchestral Parts for the Recitative and Aria. “Mia speranza adorata
. . . Ah, non sai, qual pena sia,” K. 416, D-FUl, M 311............... 1261
8.13b Orchestral Parts for the Recitative and Aria, “Mia speranza adorata
. . . Ah, non sai, qual pena sia,” K. 416, D-FUl, M 311. Paper-
types and Copyists......................................................................... 1263
8.13c Orchestral Parts for the Recitative and Aria, “Mia speranza adorata
. . . Ah, non sai, qual pena sia,” K. 416, D-FUl, M 311.
Grouping of Parts........................................................................... 1265
8.14 Mozart’s Surviving Viennese Performing Parts.................................. 1280
8.15 Parts whose Connection with Viennese Performances by Mozart is
Uncertain......................................................................................... 1283
9.1 Payments to Wenzel Sukowaty from the Court Theater for Copying
Music. Seasonal Totals, 1776-1797............................................. 1323
9.2 Payments to Wenzel Sukowaty for Copying Music in the Season
1789-90 (A-Wn, Bibliothek des Osterreichischen
Theatermuseums, M 4000)............................................................ 1329
9.3 Payments to Wenzel Sukowaty for Copying Music in the Season
1790-91 (A-Wn, Bibliothek des Osterreichischen
Theatermuseums, M 4000)............................................................ 1331
9.4 A Hypothetical Correspondence between Payments to Sukowaty and
New Productions by the Court Theater in the Season 1783-84
(Hoftheater SR 20)......................................................................... 1338
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xiv
9.5 A Hypothetical Correspondence between Payments to Sukowaty and
New Productions by the Court Theater in the Season 1785-86
(Hoftheater SR 22)........................................................................... 1343
9.6 A Hypothetical Correspondence between Payments to Sukowaty and
New Productions by the Court Theater in the Season 1788-89
(Hoftheater SR 25)........................................................................... 1346
9.7 Factorization of the Total Kreuzer in Each Itemized Payment to
Sukowaty in the Season 1783-84, with a Reconstruction of the
Hypothetical per-Bogen Rates and Numbers of Bogen Copied
(Hoftheater SR 20).......................................................................... 1 350
9.8 Factorization of the Total Kreuzer in Each Itemized Payment to
Sukowaty in the Season 1785-86, with a Reconstruction of the
Hypothetical per-Bogen Rates and Numbers of Bogen Copied
(Hoftheater SR 22).......................................................................... 1353
9.9 Factorization of the Total Kreuzer in Each Itemized Payment to
Sukowaty in the Season 1786-87, with a Reconstruction of the
Hypothetical per-Bogen Rates and Numbers o f Bogen Copied
(Hoftheater SR 23).......................................................................... 1354
9.10a Copyists and Paper-Types in the Court Theater’s Performing Score
of Le nozze di Figaro (A-Wn, OA 295 and KT 315).................. 1472
9.10b Paper-types in the Court Theater’s Performing Score of Le nozze di
Figaro from the Viennese Production of 1786 and the
Viennese Revival of 1789-91 (A-Wn, OA 295 and KT 315)...... 1477
9.1 la Le nozze di Figaro. Orchestral Parts from the First Viennese
Production of 1786. Paper-types and Copyists (A-Wn,
OA 295, Stimmen).......................................................................... 1486
9.1 lb Le nozze di Figaro. Paper-types in the Orchestral Parts from the
First Viennese Production of 1786 and the Viennese Revival of
1789-91 (A-Wn, OA 295, Stimmen)............................................. 1489
9.12 Le nozze di Figaro. Original Orchestral Parts, Insertions for “Un
motodigioia” .................................................................................. 1501
9.13 Le nozze di Figaro. Original Orchestral Parts, Insertions for “Al
desio di chi t’adora” ........................................................................ 1504
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
XV
9.14 Le nozze di Figaro. Original Orchestral Parts, Insertions for the
Revision to “Dove sono”................................................................ 1506
9.15a Sukowaty Score Copies of Individual Numbers from Le nozze di
Figaro, from the Collection of the Hofkapelle............................. 1517
9.15b Paper-types in Sukowaty Score Copies of Individual Numbers from
Le nozze di Figaro, from the Collection of the Hofkapelle 1519
9.16 Le nozze di Figaro. Vocal Role Books from 1789 in the Esterhazy
Archive (H-Bn, OK 11/b)............................................................... 1530
9.17 Le nozze di Figaro. Original Orchestral Parts, Insertions for the
Revision to Act III, finale............................................................... 1558
9.18 Cuts and Revisions to the Recitatives in the Original Performing
Score of Le nozze di Figaro (A-Wn, OA 295 and KT 315)........ 1636
9.19 Le nozze di Figaro. Original Orchestral Parts, Insertions for the
Revision to the Count’s Aria......................................................... 1725
9.20 Don Giovanni. Orchestral Parts from the Viennese Production of
1788 (A-Wn, OA 361, Stimmen).................................................. 1764
9.21 Don Giovanni. Orchestral Parts from the Viennese Production of
1788 (A-Wn, OA 361, Stimmen). Paper-types from 1788........ 1778
9.22 Distribution of Sukowaty Copyists in the Orchestral Parts for the
1788 Production of Don Giovanni............................................... 1783
9.23 Don Giovanni. Orchestral Parts from the Viennese Production of
1788 (A-Wn, OA 361, Stimmen). Paper-types of the post-1788
insertions (a selected list)............................................................... 1792
9.24 Staccato Dots in the Viennese Performing Score of K. 578 That Are
Missing in the Neue Mozart-Ausgabe........................................... 1890
9.25 Cuts in the Original Performing Score of Cost fan tutte (A-Wn,
OA 146)........................................................................................... 1940
9.26 Wenzel Sukowaty’s Advertisements of Works by Mozart,
1785-86........................................................................................... 1976
9.27 Manuscripts Copies of Mozart’s Music Bearing Sukowaty’s
Imprint............................................................................................. 1984
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
xvi
10.1 Manuscripts with the Imprint of Kaspar WeiB....................................... 2011
10.2 Attributions, Papers-types, and Copyists in the Hamburg Score of
Der Stein der Weisen (D-Hs, ND VII 174).................................. 2017
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
xvii
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Figure Page
2.1 Title page of a score copy of an aria (attributed to “Sig:rc Bach”)
from Steven Storace’s opera Gli equivoci, showing Sukowaty’s
imprint. CZ-Pnm, VII.A.69........................................................... 108
2.2 Artaria’s advertisement for music paper, Wiener Zeitung, Saturday,
7 April 1781, Anhang..................................................................... 122
3.1 Field notes on the hand of a copyist in a set of orchestral parts for
“Mia speranza adorata. . . Ah, non sai, qual pena sia,” K. 416.
D-FUl, M 311................................................................................. 260
3.2 Some forms of the treble clef................................................................. 265
3.3 Some variants of the “ampersand” treble clef....................................... 266
3.4a Some variants of the “C-form” bass clef.............................................. 268
3.4b Some variants of the “reversed-C” bass clef......................................... 268
3.4c Some examples of “closed” bass clefs................................................... 268
3.4d Some variants of the Viennese “pincer” bass clef................................ 269
3.5 Some forms of the C clef....................................................................... 270
3.6 Some forms of the “Viennese” C clef................................................... 272
3.7 Forms of the numeral “4” in time signatures.......................................... 274
3.8a Quarter and eighth rests. System 1........................................................ 276
3.8b Quarter and eighth rests, System 2 ........................................................ 276
3.9 Some forms of the natural sign............................................................... 279
3.10a Some forms of half note with ascending stem ...................................... 283
3.10b Some forms of half note with descending stem ................................... 284
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
xviii
3.11 Some forms of the brace.......................................................................... 290
3.12 Mozart’s abbreviations for “unisono” and “Col Basso” ........................ 293
3.13 A hand illustrating all of the typical characteristics of the Viennese
“system” style. The copyist is Sukowaty 16, in the original
performing score of Le nozze di Figaro. A-Wn, KT 315........... 295
3.14 Page Ir of a piano part from an arrangement by M. Pranzer of
Cimarosa’s 1 1 matrimonio segreto for piano, violin, viola,
clarinet, and bassoon. Collection of D. Edge.............................. 366
3.15 Cross-sections of the staff ruling on pages Ir, 9r, and 63v of a piano
part from an arrangement by M. Pranzer of Cimarosa’s 1 1
matrimonio segreto for piano, violin, viola, clarinet, and
bassoon. Collection of D. Edge.................................................... 369
3.16 Matching irregularities in the top edges of the first two leaves of the
piano part of an arrangement by M. Pranzer of Cimarosa’s 1 1
matrimonio segreto for piano, violin, viola, clarinet, and
bassoon. Collection of D. Edge.................................................... 372
3.17 Interruptions of staff lines at blemishes in the paper in the piano part
of Pranzer’s arrangement of 1 1 matrimonio segreto..................... 373
3.18 Left end of the staff rulings on pages Ir and 63v of a piano part from
an arrangement by M. Pranzer of Cimarosa’s II matrimonio
segreto for piano, violin, viola, clarinet, and bassoon.
Collection of D. Edge...................................................................... 377
3.19 A comparison of rastra from four leaves in four different
manuscripts...................................................................................... 380
5.1 Joseph Arthofer’s address, “Neumarkt N° 1107,” on the last page of
a keyboard part for Mozart’s Piano Concerto in C, K. 415.
A-Wgm, VII 25699 (Q 16274)...................................................... 482
5.2 Arthofer’s address (enlargement)............................................................ 483
5.3 Iv of Arthofer’s keyboard part for Mozart’s Piano Concerto in C,
K. 415. A Wgm, V II25699 (Q 16274)........................................ 484
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
xix
5.4 Iv of Arthofer’s keyboard part for Mozart’s Piano Concerto in C,
K. 415, with added Figured bass in the hand of Leopold Mozart.
A Ssp, Moz 260.1 ........................................................................... 485
5.5 The baptismal record of Theresia Arthofer, 2 August 1777. Vienna,
St. Stephan, Taufbuch Tom. 93, fol. 327r.................................... 487
5.6 Plan of Stadt 1108, the “Sartorisches Haus.” WStLA,
Unterkammeramt, Baukonsens 3056/1786 .................................. 489
5.7 Orchestral roster of the concert of the Viennese Tonkiinstler-
Societat, 22 and 23 December 1785. WStLA, Haydn-Verein,
A l-3b.............................................................................................. 490
5.8 Joseph Arthofer’s Sperrs-Relation. WStLA, Mag. ZG, Fasz. 2-
3328/1807........................................................................................ 495
5.9 The musical hand of Joseph Arthofer...................................................... 501
5.10 A page in the hand of Joseph Arthofer from a first violin part for
Haydn’s Die Schdpfung. A-Wst, MH 13557............................... 517
5.11 Basso part for the Symphony in D, K. 320, in the hand of Joseph
Arthofer (?), with autograph entries by W. A. Mozart. A-Gk,
40.572 (Lannoy 56)......................................................................... 524
6.1 First page of the score of Haydn’s aria “Infelice sventurata” in the
hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1. A-Wn, S. m. 9840........... 543
6.2 Portion of a page from a first-oboe part for the Symphony in
G minor, K. 550, with a correction by Mozart. A-Gk, 40.600
(Lannoy 39)..................................................................................... 568
6.3 Page from a Basso part for the Symphony in G minor, K. 550, in the
hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1. A-Gk, 40.600
(Lannoy 39)..................................................................................... 569
6.4 Title page of a score in the hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist i of
the Duettino “Deh prendi un dolce amplesso,” La clemenza di
Tito, Act I, No. 3, inserted into the autograph. D-B, Mus. ms.
autogr. W. A. Mozart 621 ............................................................. 570
6.5 First page of a score in the hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1 of the
Duettino “Deh prendi un dolce amplesso,” La clemenza di Tito,
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
XX
Act I, No. 3, inserted into the autograph. D-B, Mus. ms.
autogr. W. A. Mozart 621 ............................................................. 571
6.6 Title page of a score in the hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1 of
the aria “Io ti lascio, o cara, addio,” K. 621a. A-Sm, M. N.
53(a)................................................................................................ 572
6.7 First page of a score in the hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1 of
the aria “Io ti lascio, o cara, addio,” K. 621a. A-Sm, M. N.
53(a)................................................................................................ 573
6.8 Title page of a score in the hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1 of
the aria “Ch’io mi scordi di te... Non temer, amato bene.”
K. 505. A-Wgm, V I54949 (Q 21126).......................................... 574
6.9 Page in the hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1 from a score of the
Variations in C on “Ah vous dirai-je, Maman,” K. 265. F-Pc,
Rds.2345........................................................................................ 575
6.10 First page of Mozart’s Twelve Variations for Keyboard on a Minuet
by Johann Christian Fischer, K. 179, in the hand of Edge 55.
A-Gk, 40.513 (Lannoy 617).......................................................... 622
6.1 la Title page from a first-violin part for the Symphony in C, K. 338,
showing an entry by Georg Nikolaus Nissen. A-Gk, 40.570
(Lannoy 51).................................................................................... 633
6.1 lb First page of a first-violin part in the hand of Sukowaty 8 for the
Symphony in C, K. 338. A-Gk, 40.570 (Lannoy 51).................. 635
6.12 Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1 in the Modena score of Die Zauberfldte.
I-MOe, Mus. F. 787....................................................................... 650
6.13 Viennese copyist (Jakob Klein?) in the Modena score of Die
Zauberfldte. I-MOe, Mus. F. 787................................................ 651
6.14 Viennese copyist in the Modena score of Die Zauberfldte. I-MOe,
Mus. F. 787..................................................................................... 652
6.15 Viola part from a set for the Symphony in B-flat, K. 182, probably in
the hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1. A-Gk, 40.826
(Lannoy 54).................................................................................... 665
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
XXI
6.16 A page, possibly in the hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1, from
one of the keyboard parts for the Concerto in F for Three
Keyboards, K. 242. D-B, Mus. ms. 15468................................... 680
6.17 A page in the hand of Edge 115 from an arrangement for keyboard
of Asplmayr’s Ballet, Agamemnon venge. A-Wgm, XIV 9837
(Q 18681)......................................................................................... 686
6.18a A violin part in the hand of Edge 115 from the Concerto in F for
Three Keyboards, K. 242. D-B, Mus. ms. 15468....................... 687
6.18b A viola part in the hand of Edge 115 from the Concerto in F for
Three Keyboards, K. 242. D-B, Mus. ms. 15468 ....................... 688
6.18c A basso part in the hand of Edge 115 from the Concerto in F for
Three Keyboards, K. 242. D-B, Mus. ms. 15468....................... 689
6.19 First page of “Piu non si trovano,” the Nottumo, K. 549, in the hand
of Maximilian Stadler. A-Wgm, V I569 (Q 3817)..................... 705
6.20 Title page in the hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist I from a score
copy of the aria “Ch’io mi scordi di te . . . Non temer, amato
bene,” K. 505. A-Wn, S. m. 10567............................................... 721
6.21 The hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1 in the keyboard part for
Monn’s Concerto in E-flat (Fischer 44). D-B, Mus. ms.
14630/10........................................................................................... 742
7.1 Entry in the marriage registry of St. Stephen’s in Vienna for the
marriage of Johann Traeg and Eleonora von Merezi,
17 February 1783. Vienna, Pfarrarchiv St. Stephan,
Trauungsregister, Tom. 75, fol. 65 ............................................... 752
7.2 The Organizational Scheme of Traeg’s Catalogue of 1799................ 767
7.3 The hand of the copyist Edge 33 in the keyboard part of a concerto
in D by Emanuel Aloys Forster. A-Wgm, VII 12178
(Q 16225)......................................................................................... 877
7.4a The title page from a set of parts for Mozart’s Oboe Concerto in C,
K. 314. A-Sm, Rara 314/1............................................................. 879
7.4b First page of the principal oboe part from a set for Mozart’s Oboe
Concerto in C, K. 314. A-Sm, Rara 314/1................................... 880
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
xxii
7.4c First page of the basso part from a set for Mozart’s Oboe Concerto
in C, K. 314. A-Sm, Rara 314/1.................................................. 881
7.5 Field notes on the hand of the copyist in parts for the Flute Concerto
in D, K. 314. A-Wgm, VIII 1396................................................ 890
7.6 First page of Traeg’s master copy of Joseph Haydn’s Sonata in G,
Hob. XVI:27. A-Wn, S. m. 9818, from the Lannoy
collection......................................................................................... 916
7.7 First page of a manuscript copy of Mozart’s variations on “Salve tu,
Domine,” K. 398. A-Gk, 40.511 (Lannoy 617).......................... 932
7.8 The hand of Traeg 2 (Silverstolpe A), from the first page of a score
of Haydn’s 1 1 mondo della luna. A-Wn, 17621.......................... 946
7.9a The hand of Traeg 2 (Silverstolpe A), from the first page of
a keyboard part for Mozart’s Concerto in D minor, K. 466.
A-Wgm, VII 3405 (Q 16278)........................................................ 953
7.9b The hand of Traeg 2 (Silverstolpe A), from the title page of a set of
parts for Mozart’s Concerto in D minor, K. 466. A-Wgm,
VII 3405 (Q 16278)....................................................................... 954
7.10 The hand of Traeg 2 (Silverstolpe A), showing the “early” form of
the treble clef. From the first-violin part in Traeg’s master
copy of the Symphony in F, Anh. C 11.04. A-Gk, 40.571
(Lannoy 53).................................................................................... 957
7 .1 la The hand of Traeg 4, from the first page of the keyboard part for an
arrangement for piano quintet of Mozart’s Concerto in B-flat,
K. 595. A-Wgm, XI 30945 (Q 17572)........................................ 963
7.1 lb The hand of Traeg 4, from the title page of a set of parts for an
arrangement for piano quintet of Mozart’s Concerto in B-flat,
K. 595. A-Wgm, XI 30945 (Q 17572)........................................ 964
7.12 The hand of Traeg 5, with examples taken from Traeg’s master copy
of the parts for Mozart’s Symphony in D, K. 204. A-Gk,
41.251 (Lannoy 47)........................................................................ 969
7.13a The hand of Traeg 6, from the keyboard part for the “Echo”
Concertino in E-flat by Vincenc Maschek. A-Wn, S. m.
11073, from the Kaisersammlung................................................. 973
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
xxiii
7.13b The hand of Traeg 6, from the first viola part for the “Echo”
Concertino in E-flat by Vincenc Maschek. A-Wn, S. m.
11073, from the Kaisersammlung................................................. 974
7.13c Title page in the hand of Traeg 6, from the parts for the “Echo”
Concertino in E-flat by Vincenc Maschek. A-Wn. S. m.
11073, from the Kaisersammlung................................................. 975
7.14 Tracings of the musical hand and signature of Johann Schmutzer,
from a score of Mozart’s aria “L’amerd, sard costante,” No. 10
in II re pastore, K. 208. A-Wn, S. m. 5055................................. 983
7.15a The hand of Johann Schmutzer, from the first page of a principal
violin part for Haydn’s Violin Concerto in A, Hob. VIIa:3, the
“Melk.” A-Wgm, IX 32697.......................................................... 985
7.15b The hand and signature of Johann Schmutzer, from the last page of
the principal violin part for Haydn’s Violin Concerto in A,
Hob. VIIa:3, the “Melk.” A-Wgm, IX 32697............................. 986
7.16a The title page of a manuscript score copy of Mozart’s quartet “Dite
aimeno, in che mancai,” K. 479. A-Wgm, V I7349 (Q 3774)... 989
7.16b The first page of a manuscript score copy of Mozart’s quartet “Dite
aimeno, in che mancai,” K. 479. A-Wgm, V I7349 (Q 3774)... 990
8.1 Tracing of the copyist of the tenor part in Mozart’s Viennese
performing parts for the aria “Se al labbro mio non credi,”
K. 295. D-F, Mus. Hs. 626........................................................... 1104
8.2 Tracing of the copyist Sukowaty 7 in Mozart’s Viennese performing
parts for the aria “Se al labbro mio non credi,” K. 295. D-F,
Mus. Hs. 626................................................................................... 1106
8.3 Tracing of the copyist Sukowaty 10 in Mozart’s Viennese
performing parts for the aria “Se al labbro mio non credi,”
K. 295. D-F, Mus. Hs. 626........................................................... 1107
8.4 Tracing of “Copyist a” (Viennese Mozart-Copyist 3) in Mozart’s
Viennese performing parts for the Symphony in G, K. 318.
D-F, Mus. Hs. 208......................................................................... 1115
8.5 Tracing of “Copyist b” in Mozart’s Viennese performing parts for
the Symphony in G, K. 318. D-F, Mus. Hs. 208........................ 1116
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
xxiv
8.6 Transcription of the title page of Mozart’s parts for the Sinfonia
Concertante in G, K. 320. D-F, Mus. Hs. 209............................ 1132
8.7 Tracing of the copyist Sukowaty 4 in Mozart’s Viennese performing
parts for the aria “A questo seno deh vieni... Or che il cielo
a me ti rende,” K. 374. D-FU1, M 115........................................ 1143
8.8 Tracing of the copyist Sukowaty 14 in Mozart’s Viennese
performing parts for the aria “A questo seno deh vieni... Or
che il cielo a me ti rende,” K. 374. D-FU1, M 115..................... 1144
8.9 Tracing of the copyist Viennese Mozart-Copyist 3 in Mozart’s
Viennese performing parts for the aria “Misero! o sogno, o son
desto? . . . Aura, che intomo spiri,” K. 431 (425b). D-FU1,
M 309.............................................................................................. 1154
8.10 Tracing of ‘‘Copyist b” in Mozart’s Viennese performing parts for
the aria “Misero! o sogno, o son desto? . . . Aura, che intomo
spiri,” K. 431 (425b). D-FU1, M 309........................................... 1156
8.11 The hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist 3 in a score of Haydn’s II
mondo della luna. A-Wn, 17621 ................................................. 1158
8.12 The hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist 3 in the “organo concerto”
part for a mass by Reutter. A-Wn, HK 765................................. 1162
8.13a The hand of Peter Rampi, from the First page of a score of Mozart’s
“Misericordias Domini,” K. 222. A-Gk, 40.980
(Lannoy 366).................................................................................. 1179
8.13b The hand of Peter Rampl, from the last page of a score of Mozart’s
“Misericordias Domini,” K. 222. A-Gk, 40.980
(Lannoy 366).................................................................................. 1180
8.14 Tracing of the hand of Peter Rampl, from the inserted minuets in the
autograph of the eight-part version of Mozart’s Serenade for
Winds in E-flat, K. 375. D-B, Mus. ms. autogr.
W. A. Mozart 375.......................................................................... 1181
8.15 The hand of Peter Rampl, from a Traeg copy of an arrangement for
piano quintet of Mozart’s Piano Concerto in B-flat, K. 595.
A-Wgm, X I30945 (Q 17572)....................................................... 1182
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
XXV
8.16 The hand of Peter Rampl, from Traeg’s master copy of Haydn’s aria
“Deh soccorri un infelice” {La fedelta premiata, No. 11).
A-Wn, S. m. 9837........................................................................... 1183
8.17a The hand of Peter Rampl (?), from a first violin part for C. P. E.
Bach’s oratorio Die Auferstehung und Himmelfahrt Jesu.
A-Wgm, ffl 14232.......................................................................... 1187
8.17b The hand of Peter Rampl (?), from a first violin part for C. P. E.
Bach’s oratorio Die Auferstehung und Himmelfahrt Jesu.
A-Wgm, III 14232.......................................................................... 1188
8.18a The hand of Jakob Klein (?), from the title page of Traeg’s master
copy of Haydn’s aria “Tomate pur mia bella.”
A-Wn, S. m. 9848........................................................................... 1191
8.18b The hand of Jakob Klein (?), from the first page of Traeg’s master
copy of Haydn’s aria ‘ Tomate pur mia bella.”
A-Wn, S. m. 9848........................................................................... 1192
8.19 The hand of Johann (?) Radnitzky. Field notes on the hand in
a score of Paisiello’s La frascatana. CZ-K, 169 K II................. 1206
8.20 The hand of Johann Radnitzky (?). Field notes on the hand in parts
from Mozart’s estate for Paisiello’s recitative and aria “Dove,
ahi dove son io... Mentre ti lascio, o figlio.”
D-FU1, M 305................................................................................. 1208
8.21 The hand of Johann Radnitzky (?) in the original Viennese
performing score for the German adaptation of Monsigny’s Le
Deserteur. A-Wn, KT 109............................................................ 1211
9.1 Contract for the orchestra of the Burgtheater, Easter 1774 to Easter
1775. Budapest, MOL, Familienarchiv Keglevich V/18,
565-67............................................................................................. 1297
9.2 Verlassenschaftsabhandlung for Wenzel Sukowaty. Vienna,
WStLA, Mag. Zivilgericht, Fasz. 2-5037/1810............................ 1308
9.3 Entry of Wenzel Sukowaty Jr. into the Stammbuch of Otto Hatwig,
30 Dec 1794. WStLB, Handschriftensammlung, Ja. 74.841...... 1314
9.4 Court theater payments to Wenzel Sukowaty for the season 1788-89.
Vienna, HHStA, Hoftheater SR 25, item 145, page 4 9 ............... 1324
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
xxvi
9.5 The first page of the score of the unattributed accompanied recitative
“Ah, da me s’allontani,” preceding Mozart’s K. 419 in the
Viennese score of extracts from Paisiello’s Fedra. A-Wgm,
IV 7751 (Q 1812)............................................................................ 1394
9.6 Title page of a score copy from Sukowaty’s shop of “Dite aimeno, in
che mancai,” K. 479. A-Sm, M. N. 53 (d )................................... 1409
9.7 First page of music in a score copy from Sukowaty’s shop of “Dite
aimeno, in che mancai,” K. 479. A-Sm, M. N. 53 (d).................. 1411
9.8 Lorenz Lausch’s Advertisement for Le nozze di Figaro, Wiener
Zeitung, 1 July 1786 (Transcription from Deutsch, Dokumente,
242-43)............................................................................................ 1459
9.9 First page of the sextet from Le nozze di Figaro in the original
performing score of the Viennese court theater.
A-Wn, KT 315................................................................................ 1480
9.10 Entries by Mozart in the fourth-act finale in the court theater’s
original performing score of Le nozze di Figaro.
A-Wn, KT 315................................................................................ 1482
9.11 Foliation of the first-desk part for first violin (Vn I [ 1 j) from the
original orchestral parts for Le nozze di Figaro. A-Wn,
OA 295, Stimmen.......................................................................... 1495
9.12 Basset-horn part for “Aprite un po’ quegl’occhi,” from the court
theater’s original orchestral parts for Le nozze di Figaro.
A-Wn, OA 295, Stimmen.............................................................. 1507
9.13 First page of “Porgi Amor” from the first-desk part for first violin in
the court theater’s original orchestral parts for Le nozze di
Figaro. A-Wn, OA 295, Stimmen............................................... 1510
9.14 Cover page of the second copy of the second violin from the court
theater’s original orchestral parts for Le nozze di Figaro,
showing performance dates from the revival of 1789-91.
A-Wn, OA 295, Stimmen.............................................................. 1511
9.15 Field notes for the copyist Lbl-Figaro-B 1 in the “Dragonetti” score
of Le nozze di Figaro. GB-Lbl, Add. MS. 16055 and 16056...... 1539
9.16 Field notes for the copyist I-MOe-Figaro-3, from the Modena score
of Le nozze di Figaro. I-MOe, Mus. F. 791................................ 1540
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
xxvii
9.17 The copyist A-Wgm-Figaro-5, from a keyboard score of “Al desio di
chi t’adora.” A-Wgm, VI 17992 (Q 7397).................................. 1541
9.1 8 Copyist of the Lausch keyboard score of K. 568. A-Wgm, XV 29371
(Q 19632)....................................................................................... 1542
9.19 Foliation diagram of the ninth gathering in Act III of the court
theater’s performing score of Le nozze di Figaro. A-Wn,
KT 315............................................................................................ 1555
9.20 \ > 3 in the cadence at the end of the recitative of Cherubino and
Barbarina, Le nozze di Figaro, Act III. A-Wn, KT 315............. 1595
9.21 Fourth-act reprise of “Voi che sapete” in the first-desk part for
second violin, from the court theater’s original orchestral parts
for Le nozze di Figaro. A-Wn, OA 295, Stimmen.................... 1599
9.22 Revisions in the first horn part of the sextet, Le nozze di Figaro,
A-Wn, OA 295, Stimmen.............................................................. 1624
9.23 Revision, possibly in Mozart’s hand, to the beginning of Act III,
scene xii, in the original performing score of Le nozze di
Figaro. A-Wn, KT 315................................................................ 1645
9.24 Revisions to mm. 62-66 in Act III, scene xii, in the original
performing score of Le nozze di Figaro. A-Wn, KT 315............ 1646
9.25 Autograph of revision to mm. 64-66 of the recitative in Act III, scene
xii in Le nozze di Figaro............................................................... 1647
9.26 Cuts and Revisions in the Original Performing Score of Scenes iv
and v in Act IV of Le nozze di Figaro. A-Wn. KT 315............... 1648
9.27 Flute part for Marcellina’s aria from the court theater’s original
orchestral parts for Le nozze di Figaro. A-Wn, OA 295,
Stimmen......................................................................................... 1654
9.28 The tempo marking “Allegro Maestoso” at the beginning of the
Count’s aria in the original performing score of Le nozze di
Figaro. A-Wn, KT 315................................................................ 1665
9.29 Foliation diagram of the sixth gathering of Act III of the court
theater’s performing score of Le nozze di Figaro. A-Wn,
KT 315............................................................................................ 1706
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
xxviii
9.30 First page of the insertion for a revision of “Dove sono,” from the
original performing score of Le nozze di Figaro. A-Wn,
KT 315............................................................................................. 1708
9.31 Incorrect word “l’amante” in the insertion for the revised version of
“Dove sono,” in the original performing score of Le nozze di
Figaro. A-Wn, KT 315.................................................................. 1710
9.32 Foliation diagram of gathering “3I/2 ” in Act III of the court theater’s
performing score of Le nozze di Figaro. A-Wn, KT 315........... 1717
9.33 Folio 29v from Act III of the original performing score of Le nozze
di Figaro, showing the insertion equivalent to Tyson Variant 5.
A-Wn, KT 315................................................................................. 1718
9.34 Mm. 39-43 of the Count’s aria in the original performing score of Le
nozze di Figaro (A-Wn, KT 315), showing revisions to the
vocal line, possibly in Mozart’s hand............................................ 1720
9.35 Insertion for a revised version of the Count’s aria. Violin I (2) in the
original orchestral parts for Le nozze di Figaro. A-Wn,
OA 295, Stimmen........................................................................... 1727
9.36 First page of the Viennese court theater’s performing score from the
1788 production of Don Giovanni. A-Wn, OA 361 ................... 1759
9.37 Foliation of the first-desk part for first violin (Vn I [ 1 ]) from the
original orchestral parts for the 1788 Viennese production of
Don Giovanni. A-Wn, OA 361, Stimmen.................................... 1765
9.38a Foliation of the first act of the duplicate part for first violin (Vn I [3])
from the original orchestral parts for the 1788 Viennese
production of Don Giovanni. A-Wn, OA 361, Stimmen 1767
9.38b Foliation of the second act of the duplicate part for first violin
(Vn I [3]) from the original orchestral parts for the 1788
Viennese production of Don Giovanni. A-Wn, OA 361,
Stimmen.......................................................................................... 1769
9.39 Foliation of the first act of the duplicate part for basso (Basso [2?])
from the original orchestral parts for the 1788 Viennese
production of Don Giovanni. A-Wn, OA 361, Stimmen 1771
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xxix
9.40 “Ah chi mi dice mai” in the first-desk part for first violin, from the
original orchestral parts for the 1788 Viennese production of
Don Giovanni. A-Wn, OA 361, Stimmen................................... 1786
9.41 Leporello’s “Catalogue” aria in the first-desk part for first violin
from the original orchestral parts for the 1788 Viennese
production of Don Giovanni. A-Wn, OA 361, Stimmen 1787
9.42 Foliation diagram of the second gathering in the second act of
Violino 1:”° (3) from the orchestral parts for the Viennese
production of Don Giovanni in 1788. A-Wn, OA 361,
Stimmen......................................................................................... 1805
9.43 Extract from the graveyard scene in the performing score from the
1788 Viennese production of Don Giovanni. A-Wn,
OA 361............................................................................................ 1826
9.44 Payment to Johann Hoffmann for musicians in the 1788 Viennese
production of Don Giovanni. HHStA, Hoftheater SR 25,
item 132.......................................................................................... 1831
9.45 The Viennese court theater’s payments to Joseph Hoffmann for
choruses in the season 1788-89. HHStA, Hoftheater SR 25,
item 135.......................................................................................... 1832
9.46 First page of the original performing score of “Alma grande e nobil
core,” K. 578. A-Wn, KT 5 6 ........................................................ 1877
9.47 Staccato markings in m. 112 of the performing score of K. 578........ 1888
9.48 Mm. 128-36 of “Alma grande e nobil core,” K. 578, in the original
performing score from the Viennese court theater. A-Wn,
KT 5 6 .............................................................................................. 1894
9.49 Placement of crescendo marking under bar line in mm. 94-95 of the
performing score of K. 578........................................................... 1901
9.50 First page of the unattributed accompanied recitative preceding
K. 583 in the performing score of 1 1 burbero di buon cuore.
A-Wn, KT 70.................................................................................. 1910
9.51 Extract from Lucilla’s simple recitative preceding “Vado, ma
dove?” from the original performing score of 1 1 burbero di
buon cuore. A-Wn, KT 70............................................................ 1914
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
XXX
9.52 The accompanied recitative “No caro, fa coraggio” attributed to
Mozart in the court theater’s original performing score of La
quacquera spirituosa. A-Wn, KT 370............................................ 1965
9.53 Viennese Mozart-Copyist 4a in a Sukowaty score copy of “Dove
sono.” A-Wgm, VI 12472 (Q 3781)................................................ 1986
9.54 Title page of a Sukowaty score copy of “Dove sono.” A-Wgm,
VI 12472 (Q 3781)............................................................................. 1987
9.55 Title page of a Sukowaty score copy of “Non ho colpa,” from the
collection of Aloys Fuchs. A-Wgm, VI 17293 (Q 3764).............. 1990
10.1 Title page of a full score of Siissmayr’s Der Spiegel von Arkadien
bearing the imprint of Kaspar WeiB. A-Wgm, IV 7237
(Q 2053)............................................................................................. 2000
10.2 First page of “Nun liebes Weibchen” in the Hamburg score of Der
Stein der Weisen showing the attribution to Mozart. D-Hs, ND
VII 174 ............................................................................................... 2003
10.3 Beginning of the second-act finale in the Hamburg score of Der
Stein der Weisen, showing the attribution to Mozart. D-Hs,
ND VII 174........................................................................................ 2004
10.4 Sixth section of the second-act finale in the Hamburg score of Der
Stein der Weisen, showing the attribution to Mozart. D-Hs,
ND VII 174........................................................................................ 2005
10.5 The hand of the copyist Stein 1 (Sukowaty 3) in the Hamburg score
of Der Stein der Weisen. D-Hs, ND VII 174.................................. 2024
10.6 Characteristics of the musical hand of Stein I (Sukowaty 3 )................. 2025
10.7a The title page of the Hamburg score of Die Waldmanner. D-Hs,
ND VII 175........................................................................................ 2026
10.7b The imprint of Kaspar WeiB on the Hamburg score of Die
Waldmanner. D-Hs, ND VII 175..................................................... 2027
10.8 The hand of Stein 1 (Sukowaty 3) in a Lausch keyboard score of the
12 German Dances, K. 536/K. 567. A-Wgm, XV 25103
(SB Q 19646)..................................................................................... 2031
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xxxi
10.9 The hand of the copyist Stein 2 in the Hamburg score of Der Stein
der Weisen. D-Hs, ND VII 174 ................................................... 2032
10.10 The hand of the copyist Stein 2 in a violin part for Die Zauberfldte.
A-Wgm, IV 7888........................................................................... 2033
10.11 The hand of the copyist Stein 2 in a part from the Tonkiinstler-
Societat’s first performance of Haydn’s Die Schopfung.
A-Wst, MH 13557......................................................................... 2034
10.12 The hand of Stein 4 (WeiB 6) in the Hamburg score of Der Stein der
Weisen. D-Hs, ND VII 174........................................................... 2038
10.13 The hand of the copyist Stein 5 in a keyboard score of the
12 German Dances, K. 536/K. 567. A-Wgm, XV 25103
(SB Q 19645).................................................................................. 2041
10.14 Attributions in the Hamburg score of Der Stein der Weisen (the hand
of Stein X). D-Hs, ND VII 174 ................................................... 2043
10.15 Samples of the text hand of Stein A (= Stein 1) in the Hamburg score
of Der Stein der Weisen. D-Hs, ND VII 174............................... 2049
10.16 Samples of the text hand of Stein D (= Stein 4; probably equivalent
to Kaspar WeiB), from the Hamburg score of Der Stein der
Weisen. D-Hs, ND VII 174........................................................... 2052
10.17a Title page of a score from the shop of Kaspar WeiB of Liebe macht
kurzen Prozefi. A-Wgm, IV 42858 (Q 2096).............................. 2054
10.17b Enlargement of the imprint of Kaspar WeiB on a score of Liebe
macht kurzen Prozefi. A-Wgm, IV 42858 (Q 2096).................... 2053
11.1 One of the copyists in a set of parts from the shop of Lorenz Lausch
for the Twelve German Dances, K. 536 and K. 567. A-Wgm,
XV 25103....................................................................................... 2086
11.2 One of the copyists in a set of parts from the shop of Lorenz Lausch
for the Twelve German Dances, K. 586. A-Wgm,
XV 29352....................................................................................... 2087
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XXX11
LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES
Example Page
5.1 The first anonymous allemande in A-Wn, S. m. 11222........................ 518
5.2 Anonymous Keyboard Concerto in D, incipit of first movement.
CZ-KRa, A 4921............................................................................. 530
9 .1 The accompanied recitative “Ah, da me s’allontani,” preceding
Mozart’s aria K. 419 in the Viennese score of Paisiello’s
Fedra. A-Wgm, IV 7751 (Q 1812).............................................. 1395
9.2 Unidentified viola part on the verso of the insertion for “Porgi amor”
in the first-desk part for first violin in the original orchestral
parts for Le nozze di Figaro. A-Wn, OA 295, Stimmen 1497
9.3 Mm. 95-111 of the sextet in Act III of Le nozze di Figaro, showing
the original orchestration as preserved in the orchestral parts
from the first production. A-Wn, OA 295, Stimmen.................. 1625
9.4 Bridge over cut in Act IV, scene iv, in the original performing score
of Le nozze di Figaro. A-Wn, KT 315......................................... 1650
9.5 Marcellina’s aria, with supplemental flute and bassoon parts from
the first production of Le nozze di Figaro in 1786...................... 1655
9.6 The Neue Mozart-Ausgabe's reading of mm. 90-91 in “Al desio di
chit’adora” ...................................................................................... 1683
9.7 Mm. 90-91 of “Al desio di chi t’adora” as given by the original
orchestral parts. A-Wn, OA 295, Stimmen................................. 1683
9.8 M. 100 of “Al desio di chi t’adora” as given by the original
orchestral parts. A-Wn, OA 295, Stimmen................................. 1685
9.9 A revised version, possibly by Mozart, of mm. 37-43 of the Count’s
aria, as given in the original performing score of Le nozze di
Figaro. A-Wn, KT 315................................................................. 1721
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xxxiii
9.10 Mm. 104-8 of a revised version of the Count’s aria, as given in the
parts for first and second violin from the Viennese revival of
Le nozze di Figaro in 1789-91. A-Wn, OA 295, Stimmen 1728
9.11 Mm. 104-7 of Alan Tyson’s “Variant 4” (a revised version of the
Count’s aria).................................................................................... 1729
9.12 A reconstruction of mm. 104-8 of the revised version of the Count’s
aria, from the Viennese revival of Le nozze di Figaro in 1789-
91. A-Wn, OA 295, Stimmen....................................................... 1732
9.13 Mm. 129-32 of “Alma grande e nobil core” in the edition of the
Neue Mozart-Ausgabe.................................................................... 1 893
9.14 Mm. 26-28 of the accompanied recitative preceding Mozart’s “Vado,
ma dove?,” K. 583, in the original performing score of 1 1
burbero di buon cuore. A-Wn, KT 7 0 ......................................... 1916
9.15 M. 34 of “Secondate, aurette amiche” as it appears in the original
performing score of Cost fan tutte. A-Wn, OA 146................... 1933
9.16 M. 34 of “Secondate, aurette amiche” as revised by the Neue
Mozart-Ausgabe.............................................................................. 1933
9.17 An alternative revision of m. 34 of “Secondate, aurette amiche” 1934
9.18 Cost fan tutte, rewrite in the recitative after No. 11. A-Wn,
OA 146............................................................................................ 1953
9.19 Cost fan tutte, Act I, scene x, showing the rewrite to bridge the cut
marked in the original performing score. A-Wn, OA 146......... 1954
9.20a Cost fan tutte. Act II, scene i, alterations on paste-over at m. 2 0 ........ 1955
9.20b Cost fan tutte. Act II, scene i, alterations in red crayon, mm. 46-48.... 1955
9.20c Cost fan tutte, Act II, scene i, composite of alterations in Examples
9.20a and 9.20b............................................................................... 1955
9.21 Cost fan tutte, Act II, scene ii, recomposition of mm. 11-15 to bridge
the cut to m. 30............................................................................... 1956
9.22 The accompanied recitative “No caro, fa coraggio” attributed to
Mozart in the court theater’s original performing score of La
quacquera spirituosa. A-Wn, KT 370......................................... 1969
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xxxiv
Abbreviations
General
In Descriptions o f Manuscripts
bf bifolium
f folio (single leaf)
nbf nested bifolia
nf nested single leaf
ob oblong format (in reference to staff ruling)
TS total span
up upright format (in reference to staff ruling)
In Descriptions o f Watermarks and Paper-types
Duda A/GF/C-1
Johnson III-H
16
Tyson 80
Watermark labels in this form refer to Erich Duda, Das
musikalische Werk Franz Xaver Siifimayrs, Schriftenreihe
der Intemationalen Stiftung Mozarteum, vol. 12 (Kassel:
Barenreiter, 2000), “Kataloge der Wasserzeichen in den
Autographen von SiiBmayr,” 333-56, and the facsimiles
on 381-432.
Watermark labels in this form refer to Douglas Porter
Johnson, Beethoven’ s Early Sketches in the “Fischhof
Miscellany, ” Berlin Autograph 28, Studies in
Musicology, ed. George Buelow, vol. 22 (Ann Arbor
UMI Research Press, 1980).
Watermark labels in this form refer to Alan Tyson,
Dokumentation der Autographen Uberlieferung.
Abteilung 2: Wasserzeichen-Katalog, vol. X/33/2 of
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Neue Ausgabe sdmtlicher
Werke (Kassel: Barenreiter, 1992). The paper-types
represented in Tyson’s catalogue are referred to by the
numbers given in my Table 3.1, below (e.g., “paper-type
66- 1 ” ).
Copyists
Sukowaty la
VMC-1
VMC-3
VMC-4a
Copyist labels in this form refer to my arbitrary
numbering of anonymous copyists who are known to have
worked for Wenzel Sukowaty (see esp. Chpt. 9 and
Appendix D)
Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1 (see esp. Chpt. 6)
Viennese Mozart-Copyist 3 (see esp. Chpt. 8)
Viennese Mozart-Copyist 4a (see esp. Chpt. 9 and
Appendix D)
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XXXV
VMC-4b Viennese Mozart-Copyist 4b (see esp. Chpt. 9 and
Appendix D)
Traeg 1 Copyist labels in this form refer to my arbitrary
numbering of anonymous copyists who are known to have
worked for Johann Traeg (see esp. Chpt 7)
WeiB 1 Copyist labels in this form refer to my arbitrary
numbering of anonymous copyists who are known to have
worked for Kaspar WeiB (see esp. Chpt. 10)
Libraries and Archives
Standard RISM sigla are used as abbreviations for most libraries and archives
that contain music (however, certain references may not use the most up-to-date
versions of these abbreviations). The following abbreviations are also used:
BOT Vienna, Bibliothek des Osterreichischen Theatermuseums
HKA Vienna, Hofkammerarchiv
HHStA Vienna, Haus-, Hof- und Staatsarchiv
Hoftheater SR Hoftheater, Sonderreihe (HHStA)
HZAB HofzahlamtsbQcher (HKA)
MOL Budapest, Magyar Orszdgos Levdltdr (Hungarian National
Archive)
WStLA Vienna, Stadt- und Landesarchiv
WStLB Vienna, Stadt- und Landesbibliothek
Mag. ZG Magistratisches Zivilgericht (WStLA)
Bibliographical abbreviations
AMA
Andre 1833
Andre 1841
Deutsch,
Dokumente
Dokumente.
Neue Folge
Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus. W. A. Mozarts sdmtliche
Werke. Kritisch durchgesehene Gesamtausgabe. Edited
by Johannes Brahms et al. Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hartel,
1876-1905.
Andre, Johann Anton. [Thematic Catalogue of Mozart’s
Works Composed before February, 1784]. Compiled
before 1833. GB-Lbl Add. 32412, ff 1-53.
Thematisches Verzeichniss derjenigen Original-
handschriften von W. A. M ozart. . . welche Hofrath
Andre in Offenbach a. M. besitzt. Offenbach: Andre,
[1841].
Deutsch, Otto Erich. Mozart. Die Dokumente seines
Lebens. Vol. X/34 of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Neue
Ausgabe sdmtlicher Werke. Kassel: Barenreiter, 1961.
Eisen, Cliff. Mozart. Die Dokumente seines
Lebens. Addenda, Neue Folge. Vol. X/31/2 of Wolfgang
Amadeus Mozart. Neue Ausgabe sdmtlicher Werke.
Kassel: Barenreiter, 1997.
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xxxvi
K1
K3
K3a
K6
KV
MBA
M V
New Grove
New Grove, 2nd ed.
New Mozart
Documents
NMA
Opera Grove
Traeg 1799
Kdchel, Ludwig Ritter von. Chronologisch-thematisches
Verzeichnis der Werke W. A. Mozarts. Leipzig: Breitkopf
& Hartel, 1862.
Kdchel, Ludwig Ritter von. Chronologisch-thematisches
Verzeichnis sdmtlicher Tonwerke Wolfgang Amade
Mozarts. 3rd ed. Edited by Alfred Einstein. Leipzig:
Breitkopf & Hartel, 1937.
Kdchel, Ludwig Ritter von. Chronologisch-thematisches
Verzeichnis sdmtlicher Tonwerke Wolfgang Amade
Mozarts. 3rd ed., with Supplement “Berichtigungen und
Zusatze.” Ann Arbor, Mich.: J. W. Edwards, 1947.
Kdchel, Ludwig Ritter von. Chronologisch-thematisches
Verzeichnis sdmtlicher Tonwerke Wolfgang Amade
Mozarts. 6th ed. Edited by Franz Giegling, Alexander
Weinmann, and Gerd Sievers. Wiesbaden: Breitkopf &
Hartel, 1964.
Kochel-Verzeichnis (general)
Bauer, Wilhelm A., Otto Erich Deutsch, and Joseph Heinz
Eibl, eds. Mozart. Briefe und Aufzeichnungen.
Gesamtausgabe. 7 vols. Kassel: Barenreiter, 1962-75.
Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus. Verzeichniifi alter meiner
Werke vom Monath Febraio 1784 bis Monath I.
M ozart’ s Thematic Catalogue: A Facsimile, British
Library Stefan Zweig M S 63. Edited by AIbi Rosenthal
and Alan Tyson. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press,
1990.
Sadie, Stanley, ed. The New Grove Dictionary o f Music
and Musicians. 20 vols. London: Macmillan, 1980.
Sadie, Stanley, and John Tyrell, eds. The New Grove
Dictionary o f Music and Musicians. 2nd ed. 29 vols.
London: Macmillan, 2001.
Eisen, Cliff. New Mozart Documents: A Supplement
to O. E. Deutsch’ s Documentary Biography.
Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991.
Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
Neue Ausgabe sdmtlicher Werke. Edited by the
International Stiftung Mozarteum, Salzburg. Kassel:
Barenreiter, 1955-.
Sadie, Stanley, ed. The New Grove Dictionary o f Opera.
4 vols. London: Macmillan, 1992.
Weinmann, Alexander, ed. Johann Traeg. Die
Musikalienverzeichnisse von 1799 und 1804
(Handschriften und Sortiment). Beitrage zur Geschichte
des Alt-Wiener Musikverlages, Reihe 2, Folge 17.
Vienna: Universal Edition, 1973.
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xxx vii
Wasserzeichen-
Katalog
Tyson, Alan. Dokumentation der Autographen
Uberlieferung. Abteilung2: Wasserzeichen-Katalog.
Vol. X/33/2 of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Neue Ausgabe
sdmtlicher Werke. Kassel: B&renreiter, 1992.
WB
WZ
Das Wienerblattchen
Wiener Zeitung
In tables that list orchestral parts, titles of parts are normally given in transcription, thus
accounting for the variety of spelling and punctuation.
In tables that list and describe paper-types, rastral measurements are given in the
following form:
up 10, TS=240.0+ (10.5/15.5:10/15)
This is to be read: paper in upright format, ruled with a 10-stave compound rastrum,
with a total span of slightly more than 240.0 mm. The width of the top staff is 10.5 mm
and the distance between the first and second staves is 15.5 mm. The width of the
bottom staff is 10 mm, and the distance between it and the staff immediately above it is
15 mm. The abbreviation “obi2” refers to paper in oblong format, ruled with a 12-
stave compound rastrum. For a complete discussion of rastral measurements and the
associated terms and abbreviations used in this dissertation, see Chpt. 3.
Pitches are named according to the following convention: c ' is middle C, c2 the C an
octave above middle C, c the C an octave below middle C, and so on.
All translations in this dissertation are my own unless otherwise noted.
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
XXXVIII
Preface
My interest in manuscript sources of eighteenth-century music was first awakened
by two experiences in the fall of 1987, shortly after my arrival in Vienna as a Fulbright
scholar. The first was my acquaintance with John Arthur, who introduced me to the
basics of watermark identification; his encyclopedic knowledge of Mozart and his acute
intelligence served as an inspiration to me then and have continued to do so ever since.
The second was a talk given by Laszlo Somfai at the conference “Gluck in Wien” in
November of that same year, regarding methods for identifying and keeping track of the
handwriting of anonymous Gluck copyists. It was Somfai’s paper (and his subsequent
friendly encouragement) that led me to begin to attempt to keep track of anonymous
Viennese copyists, based on the methods that he had outlined in that paper. I initially
applied what I had learned from Arthur and Somfai to the study of manuscript sources
of Viennese concertos from the second half of the eighteenth century (these concertos
were the original topic of my doctoral dissertation), without special reference to Mozart.
However, by 1989,1 had (more or less incidentally) discovered the identity of
a Viennese copyist, Joseph Arthofer, who had worked for Mozart in 1783, and who may
have been the copyist Mozart intended to employ that same year for a subscription
offering of the piano concertos K. 413, K. 414, and K. 415. At the invitation of Neal
Zaslaw, I gave a paper on Arthofer at the Michigan MozartFest in Ann Arbor in
November 1989 (a paper that served as the basis for Chapter 5 in the present
dissertation).
My subsequent interchanges with Zaslaw and his former student Cliff Eisen soon
verified what I had already begun to suspect: that Mozart’s Viennese copyists had
never been systematically or comprehensively studied, and that I had more or less
accidentally stumbled onto an uncharted frontier of Mozart source studies. My
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xxxix
continued work on the topic soon brought to light other unknown or unidentified
sources of considerable importance (for example, the original performing score and
orchestral parts of Le nozze di Figaro and the original performing parts from the first
Viennese production of Don Giovanni), and the study of Mozart manuscripts gradually
displaced concertos as the central focus of my research. In February 1991 I gave
a preliminary report of my work on Mozart copyists at the Intemationaler Mozart-
KongreB in Salzburg (a talk that contained the seeds of Chapters 4 and 6 here), and later
that year Cliff Eisen invited me to write a more substantial article on the same topic for
his Mozart Studies 2. My original outline for the latter article is preserved in all of its
essentials in the present dissertation. However, my subsequent research (mainly in the
years 1992-94) soon showed that any minimally adequate treatment of the topic would
vastly exceed the bounds of a single article. I remain grateful to Eisen for his
encouragement and support during the early stages of this project, and I hope he will
accept my apologies that none of the material in the present study made it into Mozart
Studies 2.
The early stages of the research for this dissertation were supported in part by
a Fulbright fellowship in Vienna (1987-89), by a doctoral research grant from the
University of Southern California, and by an AMS 50 fellowship (in 1992-93) from the
American Musicological Society. Additional research in the summers of 1993 and
1994 was supported in part by grants for travel and research from the Music Department
at the University of Wales College of Cardiff. My trip to Hamburg in the summer of
1997 to examine the score of Der Stein der Weisen was made possible by Michael
Freyhan, to whom I am extremely grateful. Subsequent research for this dissertation
has been subject to financial limitations. Most importantly, it has not been possible to
obtain facsimiles of every important source discussed here, nor has it been possible to
acquire adequate facsimiles of every important copyist. Even so, the number and
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xl
variety of copyists illustrated in facsimile in this dissertation almost certainly exceeds
what has appeared in any previous study of this kind.
I would not have been able to complete a project of this scope without the
generous support and assistance of a large number of scholars, librarians, archivists, and
friends. My advisor Bruce Alan Brown has been a continual (and long-suffering)
source of support throughout the inordinately protracted gestation of this project. From
the very beginning of our work together he has treated me as a colleague and a friend,
and he has served as a continual inspiration as a scholar. Over the years (and
particularly during the two years during which the main work on this dissertation was
accomplished) he has provided quick and unfailingly helpful responses (by e-mail and
in person) to an uncountable number of queries, ranging from the nearly cosmic to the
most niggling of minutiae. Throughout he has been a wise, patient, and humane editor.
Since the summer of 19991 have been in nearly daily e-mail contact with the
Viennese scholar Michael Lorenz, whom I have come to regard as one of my closest
friends, although we have yet to meet in person as I write this. Lorenz is acknowledged
so often in the pages that follow, that I have occasionally suggested to him (not entirely
in jest) that he should be credited as co-author. Lorenz’s knowledge of the Viennese
archives is unparalleled, and his excellence and acuity as a scholar is exceeded, perhaps,
only by his generosity in sharing what he finds and his willingness to dig into archival
questions that have little or nothing to do with his own work. He has contributed more
than any other single individual to the content of this dissertation, and he should receive
credit for much of the value it may have (although he is in no way to blame for its
deficiencies). Lorenz has also read and commented on several sections of the
manuscript, and has provided invaluable advice on many questions of German
translation.
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xii
My wife Janet Page has been involved with this project since its inception. She
has provided practical and scholarly support at nearly every stage, and she has read the
entire manuscript several times over with a practiced and acute editorial eye. Without
her, this dissertation simply would not have been finished and it would have contained
vastly more errors than it does. Rupert Ridgewell has read most of the manuscript with
meticulous care and saved me from innumerable errors. I am also grateful to him for
providing me with an advance copy of his excellent dissertation on Mozart and Artaria.
Margaret Mikulska has read several chapters, rescuing me from numerous embarrassing
slips in a wide variety of languages, and she has also brought to bear her encyclopedic
knowledge of the secondary literature on Mozart. Neal Zaslaw has been a continual
support and encouragement ever since our first acquaintance in 1989, and I am sure that
Bruce Brown will not take it amiss if I regard Neal as an honorary Doktorvater. In
a very real sense, this dissertation is written fo r Neal, to provide assistance for his New
Kdchel catalogue. He has read and commented on most of the chapters, and he has
saved me from more than one egregious error (those that remain are, of course, entirely
my own responsibility). He has also provided timely and helpful responses to many
queries over the past several years.
This dissertation owes its immediate inspiration to Cliff Eisen, who, in his path-
breaking work on Mozart’s Salzburg copyists, showed the potentially fundamental
importance of non-autograph manuscripts of Mozart’s music for questions of
attribution, text, chronology, and performance. Without Cliff s enthusiastic early
support for my study of Mozart’s copyists and Mozart documents, I would probably not
have embarked on this project. Above all, it was Cliff who showed me how to read
manuscripts—that is, how to compare the readings of several different manuscripts, and
to consider the meaning of discrepancies among them.
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xlii
I have benefited greatly over the years from an ongoing dialogue with John Rice
concerning an extraordinarily wide range of issues having to do with music in Vienna in
the last two decades of the eighteenth century. During the period in which this
dissertation was being written, I looked forward with great anticipation to our nearly
monthly marathon telephone chats. John has provided an essential sounding board for
many of the ideas in this dissertation, particularly those in Chapters 8 and 9. I can only
aspire to approach in some small way the clarity, imagination, and humanity of John’s
own writings as a music historian.
I count Eugene Wolf among my most valued professional colleagues and friends,
and he combines scholarly acuity with generosity of spirit in a way that is only too rare
in the world of eighteenth-century music studies. He is also, to my mind, the leading
analyst of musical manuscripts from the second half of the eighteenth century, and
I have benefited tremendously from his writings on that subject, and from my
conversations with him. I am tremendously grateful also to David Buch for his
openness and generosity in sharing with me the ongoing results of his work on the
manuscript sources of the repertoire of the Theater auf der Wieden, without which
Chapter 10 in this dissertation would not have been possible. I am also grateful to
David Fenton for sharing with me his analyses and concordances of various early
Mozart catalogues, which were essential resources for Chapter 8. I would also like to
thank Faye Ferguson of the Neue Mozart Ausgabe for her support and encouragement in
the early stages of this project, and for sharing with me the results of her work on
copyists in early Viennese sources of Cost fa n tutte.
A large number of other individuals have done favors both large and small.
I would like particularly to express my warmest thanks to Candace Bailey, Evan Baker,
Jennifer Brown, Gregory Butler, Alessandra Campana, Paul Comeilson, Stephen C.
Fisher, Ernst Herttrich, Mary Hunter, Ulrich Konrad, Ken Kreitner, Jay Lane, Daniel
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xliii
Leeson, Robert Levin, Kay Lipton, John Platoff, Richard Platt, Rudolf Rasch, Joshua
Rifkin, Arthur Searie, Yo Tomita, and Christoph Wolff. I apologize to anyone whose
name I have inadvertently omitted. I am also tremendously grateful to Ila and Neal
Stoltzfus, who helped me keep soul and body together in Baton Rouge during the
fifteen months in which the bulk of this dissertation was written.
I owe a great debt to the staffs of several libraries and archives. The entire staff of
the Musiksammlung of the Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek responded to my
innumerable requests over many years with efficiency, interest, and good humor, even
when these requests involved retrieving cartloads of dusty parts from the cellar. Otto
Biba of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Vienna has been a tremendous source of
encouragement and wisdom over the years, and his staff have always been helpful and
courteous. I am also grateful to the staffs of several other Viennese archives and
libraries, most especially the Haus-, Hof- und Staatsarchiv, the Stadt- und Landesarchiv,
and the Stadtbibliothek. Special thanks are also due to the staffs of the music
collections at the Mozarteum and St. Peters in Salzburg; the Hochschule fiir Musik und
Darstellende Kunst in Graz; the Stadt- und Universitatsbibliothek in Frankfurt; the
Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin; the Staats- und Universitatsbibliothek Carl von Ossietzky in
Hamburg (and most especially to Jiirgen Neubacher); the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek in
Munich; the archbishop’s palace in Krom£n2; the Schwarzenberg collection in Cesky
Krumlov; the Hungarian National Archive and the Hungarian National Library in
Budapest; and the Biblioteca Estense in Modena. 1 want particularly to recognize here
the kind assistance I received from Egidio Lupi, formerly of the library of the
Conservatorio di Musica Luigi Cherubini in Florence, who, probably at some risk to his
own position, arranged for me to spend several hours with the Mozart materials in that
library, in spite of the policy of its director, Vinicio Gai, who has continually denied
scholars access to the collection.
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I am grateful to Anna Neal and her staff at the Music Library at the University of
Memphis for their help during the final stages in the preparation of this dissertation, and
for cheerfully allowing me to check out, for months at a time, nearly the entire Mozart
section of that library.
I would also like to express my gratitude to two people who, although they have
not been directly involved with this dissertation, have played a significant role in how
I think about the history of music. Mary Terey-Smith was my first mentor in the field,
and were it not for her interest and belief in me, 1 probably would not have entered it.
She gave me a thorough grounding in all aspects of music history and musicology, and
inculcated a skeptical and probing attitude that has served me well over the years. My
discussions with the sociologist Tia DeNora in the early 1990s were fundamental in
reshaping my approach toward the study of music history. Many of the basic ideas in
this dissertation, particularly regarding music and music copying as a profession, have
their roots in my interchanges with De Nora.
Anyone who undertakes to complete a project of this magnitude (or enormity)
eventually realizes, perhaps too late, that the potential for error increases exponentially
with length. There are, literally, thousands of things I may have got wrong in the pages
that follow. I have, to be sure, made every effort to double-check and to cross-check
facts whenever and wherever possible, and to make the dissertation self-consistent.
However, it has been impossible to check everything, and many errors have
undoubtedly eluded me and my readers. Those that remain are entirely my
responsibility.
This dissertation is dedicated to the memory of Alan Tyson, who died on
10 November 2000. All of us who work on musical manuscripts merely follow the
paths that he laid out for us.
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1
Chapter I
Introduction
Ilya bien des intermedaires entre ce que le compositeur imagine & ce
qu'entendent les Auditeurs. C ’ est au Copiste de rapprocher ces deux
termes le plus qu ’ il est possible, d ’ indiquer avec clarte tout ce qu ’ on
doit fa ir pour que la Musique executee rende exactement a I ’ oreille
du Compositeur qui s ’ est peint dans sa tete en la composant.
Rousseau, Dictionnaire
In the spring of 1781, Mozart made his final break with Salzburg and decided to
seek his fortune in Vienna. In so doing, he turned his back on more than a steady if ill-
paying job, and a stable if not entirely happy home life. He also abruptly cut himself off
from Salzburg’s “music world”: that network of individuals, institutions, and practices
comprising everyday life in the city.1 It was the world in which he had spent his early
childhood, and it was, in spite of his cosmopolitan upbringing, the one to which he was
most accustomed and in which he functioned most comfortably. Mozart was intimately
acquainted with the capabilities and quirks of the professional and amateur musicians for
whom he composed in Salzburg. As Cliff Eisen has shown, he could also depend upon
a small coterie of reliable (if not always entirely trustworthy) Salzburg music copyists,
ones who had been employed repeatedly over the course of many years to copy Mozart’s
1 The term “music world” is formed on analogy with “art world” as used by the
sociologist Howard Becker, among others; see Howard S. Becker, Art Worlds
(Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1982). The term is
used in a somewhat different way by philosophers. Portions of this chapter have
appeared in slightly different form in my article “Viennese Music Copyists and the
Transmission of Music in the Eighteenth-Century,” Revue de Musicologie 84, no. 2
(1998): 298-304.
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2
music, usually under his or his father Leopold’s supervision.2 In a similar way, Mozart
and his father must have dealt regularly with particular local suppliers of music paper,
pens, inks, and other items necessary for writing, although we know little or nothing
about these dealings.
On settling in Vienna, Mozart left this well-regulated world behind him. During his
first weeks in the imperial capital, he needed not only to find lodging and to ingratiate
himself with potential patrons and pupils, but also to leam the ropes of daily professional
life. He had to establish contacts with fellow musicians and with instrument makers,
leam how to hire halls and instruments, discover suppliers of quills, ink, and music
paper, and find reliable, trustworthy, and affordable music copyists. Although he may
have maintained useful contacts in Vienna from his earlier visits to the city, the structure
of musical life had changed fundamentally since he had last been there in 1773. He
therefore must have had to start almost from scratch in constructing the routines and
relationships basic to the life of a professional musician.
These tasks were made all the more difficult because Vienna still lacked much of the
“infrastructure” (as we might now call it) necessary to support free-lance composers and
performers. In contrast to Paris and London, musical life in Vienna in the first three-
quarters of the eighteenth century remained centered around court, church, and aristocratic
Kapellen.3 Viennese theaters were under court control throughout this period (although
the theaters were often leased), and the court retained exclusive rights over theatrical
performances in the city, both musical and otherwise, until the 1780s. Independent, non
2 See Cliff Eisen, “The Mozarts’ Salzburg Copyists: Aspects of Attribution,
Chronology, Text, Style, and Performance Practice,” in Mozart Studies, ed. Cliff Eisen
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 253-307.
3 For a fine recent survey of Viennese musical life during the reign of Maria
Theresia, see Daniel Heartz, Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School, 1740-1780 (New
York and London: W. W. Norton, 1995), 3-78.
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3
itinerant musical theater companies became established in suburban Vienna only in the late
1770s and the 1780s, and only in the 1770s did it become common in Vienna for
composers and performers to arrange public concerts for their own benefit.4 Because
opera and other forms of secular public music-making were controlled by a central
authority, musicians were constrained to compose for and perform within a closed system
that in essence remained part of the imperial bureaucracy. There was no free market, at
least not for what we would today regard as “art” music.
In the 1770s Emperor Joseph II, who ruled jointly with his mother Maria Theresia
from 1765 until her death in 1780, began to assume increasing responsibility for theatrical
and musical affairs at court and in the Habsburg monarchy as a whole. He made further
reductions in the Hofmusikkapelle, which had already been cut back considerably by his
mother in the earlier years of her reign. In 1776 he established a national theater to
promote German language and culture, and in 1778 he supplemented this spoken theater
with a national Singspiel. In 1783 Joseph decreed that church music throughout Austria
be radically simplified, and most Viennese church orchestras were consequently
disbanded, thus eradicating at a stroke a crucial source of income for hundreds of
Viennese musicians.5 These developments—the decentralization of musical life and the
flood of needy and underemployed musicians onto the Viennese music
market—contributed to the rapid transformation of Viennese musical life at every level.
4 However, the history of concert life in Vienna before 1780 is still poorly
understood. See my review article of Concert Life in Haydn’ s Vienna by Mary Sue
Morrow, Haydn Yearbook 17 (1992): 108-166. I think it likely that the practice of
allowing the court theaters to be used by individual musicians for benefit concerts grew
up in the years after 1766, when the theaters reopened after a year-long hiatus occasioned
by the death of Emperor Francis Stephen. During the years from 1766 to 1776 the
theaters were leased to impresarios.
5 On Joseph’s reforms of church music, see Otto Biba, “Die Wiener Kirchenmusik
um 1783,” in Jahrbuch fu r osterreichische Kulturgeschichte 1/2, Beitrage zur
Musikgeschichte des 18. Jahrhunderts (Eisenstadt, 1971), 7-67.
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The Viennese music market during this period came to be characterized by the increasing
participation of the second aristocracy and the professional classes, who had no musical
establishments of their own (and probably could not afford them), but who wished
nevertheless to demonstrate good taste by participating in musical life. This new public
helped provide an expanding market for free-lance composers, performers, and music
teachers, as well as for music publishers, copyists, and dealers.
The rapid growth of both music publishing and commercial music copying in
Vienna in the early 1780s was symptomatic of this transformation of the local music
market Artaria, the first Viennese publisher to issue engraved music on a regular basis,
began to do so only in 1778.6 Several competing firms, including those of Christoph
Torricella, Franz Anton Hoffmeister, and Leopold Kozeluch, sprang up in the following
decade. But printed music did not immediately displace hand-copied music on the
Viennese market Music continued to be sold in both formats for many years; in fact the
1780s seem to have witnessed concurrent booms in both commercial music copying and
commercial music printing. The music copyist Johann Traeg first advertised in the
Wiener Zeitung in 1782.7 Lorenz Lausch and Wenzel Sukowaty, the chief opera copyist
of the court theater, also began to advertise commercial copies around this time.8
6 See Hannelore Gericke, Der Wiener Musikalienhandel von 1700 bis 1778, Wiener
Musikwissenschaftliche Beitrtge, ed. Erich Schenk, vol. 5 (Graz and Cologne; Hermann
Bfihlaus Nachf., 1960), 92-97.
7 For Traeg’s advertisements, see Alexander Weinmann, Die Anzeigen des
Kopiaturbetriebes Johann Traeg in der Wiener Zeitung zyvischen 1782 und 1805. Wiener
Archivstudien, vol. 6 (Vienna: Musikverlag Ludwig Krenn, 1981). The portions of
Traeg’s advertisements that offer works by Mozart have been newly transcribed for this
dissertation; see below, Chpt. 7, esp. Tables 7.2 and 7.7.
8 On Lausch’s early advertisements in the Wiener Zeitung, see Alexander
Weinmann, Wiener Musikverleger und Musikalienhandler von Mozarts Zeit bis gegen
1860. Ein firmengeschichtlicher und topographischer Behelf, Verdffentlichungen der
{Commission ftir Musikforschung, ed. Erich Schenk, Heft 2, Osterreichische Akademie
der Wissenschaften, philosophisch-historische Klasse, Sitzungsberichte, vol. 230,
Abhandlung 4 (Vienna: In {Commission bei Rudolf M. Rohrer, 1956), 24-25. According
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5
Torricella, Hoffmeister, and Artaria seem likewise to have dealt to varying degrees in
manuscript copies as well as prints. The establishment of three large commercial copy
shops and several music publishing houses within a few years of one another in the late
1770s and early 1780s suggests a fundamental transformation of the Viennese market for
music.
This is not to say that there was no trade in commercial manuscript copies before the
1780s. In the middle of the eighteenth century, copyists for the imperial court and the
Viennese court theater, such as Franz Xaver Riersch, Johann Andreas ZiB and his wife
Theresia, and Carl Champ€e, often sold manuscript copies to courts and opera houses
elsewhere.9 Charles Bumey, who visited Vienna in September 1772, reported being
plagued by copyists:
After [visiting Wagenseil] I flew home, to pack, and to pay; here,
among other things, I was plagued with copyists the whole evening;
they began to regard me as a greedy and indiscriminate purchaser of
whatever trash they should offer; but I was forced to hold my hand, not
only from buying bad music, but good. For every thing is very dear at
Vienna, and nothing more so than music, of which none is printed.1 0
Just a few pages earlier, Burney had written in a footnote:
As there are no music shops in Vienna, the best method of procuring
new compositions is to apply to copyists; for the authors, regarding
every English traveller as a milord, expect a present on these occasions.
to Weinmann, Lausch’s first advertisement in the Wiener Zeitung appeared on 27 Mar
1782. On Sukowaty’s advertisements in the Wiener Zeitung, see Chpt 9.
9 On Riersch, see Chpt 2, n. 34. For background on Johann Andreas ZiB, his
wife Theresia, and Carl Champde, see Bruce Alan Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre
in Vienna (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 92-94.
1 0 Charles Bumey, An Eighteenth-Century Musical Tour in Central Europe and the
Netherlands, ed. Percy A. Scholes, vol. 2 of Dr. Bum ey’ s Musical Tours in Europe
(London: Oxford University Press, 1959), 124. Bumey is referring to the evening of
Sunday, 13 Sep 1772, the day before his departure.
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6
as considerable for each piece, as if it had been composed on purpose
jbrhim .1 1
Burney’s comments on Viennese copyists and music printing might be thought
inaccurate or exaggerated. However, upon closer reflection, we can accept his
description as more or less literally true, particularly from his point of view as an
outsider. Although it is not entirely accurate to say that no music was printed in Vienna at
that time, locally printed editions were, in fact, extremely rare. Hannelore Gericke, in her
study of the music trade in Vienna from 1700 to 1778, lists only 75 Viennese editions
during that period, an average of less than one per year.1 2 And her list includes theater
almanacs, didactic works such as Fux’s Gradus ad Pamassum, and festival and liturgical
books: in short, she lists any printed work that includes musical notation. If we restrict
our count of printed editions to traditional editions of music—that is, to full scores,
keyboard scores, parts for orchestral and chamber music, and the like—then the total is
closer to 45, or just a little more than one printed edition every two years. More than two-
thirds of these editions date from the last third of the period, from the years 1753 to 1778.
There seem to have been no Viennese printed editions of music at all during the 1740s,
the first years of Maria Theresia’s contested reign and the period of the War of the
Austrian Succession.
Although Viennese copyists were clearly active in the commercial distribution of
music before the fourth quarter of the eighteenth century, they rarely advertised before
1775, and the trade in manuscript copies seems largely to have consisted of ad hoc
arrangements by free-lance copyists or by copyists associated with the court or court
theater. Simon Haschke is apparently the only Viennese music copyist to have advertised
1 1 Burney, An Eighteenth-Century Musical Tour, 121, n. 1 (original note by
Burney), Saturday, 12 Sep 1772.
1 2 See Gericke, Der Wiener Musikcdienhandel.
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7
in the Wienerisches Diarium (as the Wiener Zeitung was called until 1780) during the
1770s.1 3 A lack of advertisements does not, of course, necessarily imply a lack of
copyists—in fact, the variety of hands in Viennese copies from the decades preceding
1780 suggests that many free-lance copyists must have been active. Even so, it is
probably safe to conclude that few if any large commercial copying enterprises were in
business in Vienna before the 1780s.
Throughout the last quarter of the eighteenth century, free-lance music copyists
must also have been employed in Vienna to produce the performing material used by
professional instrumentalists and singers in concerts that they arranged for their own
benefit, and copy shops must have come into existence to serve the needs of the growing
number of independent theaters in Vienna and its suburbs, such as the Theater in der
Leopoldstadt (founded in 1781) or the Theater auf der Wieden (also known as the
Wiednertheater or the Freihaustheater, where Mozart’s Die Zauberflote was first
performed). Music copyists must also have been employed by composers who offered
manuscript copies of their works on subscription, as Mozart did of his concertos K. 413,
K. 414, and K. 415 in 1783.
Music copying therefore clearly continued to play a central role in Viennese musical
life in the last quarter of the eighteenth century, whether at court, in the theater, at public
concerts, or in private salons, and it must clearly have been a basic component of the
processes by which Mozart’s music was prepared for performance, publication, and
distribution.
1 3 On Haschke, see A. Peter Brown, “Notes on some Eighteenth-Century Viennese
Copyists,” Journal o f the American Musicological Society 34, no. 2 (1981): 325-38,
which, however, probably overstates Haschke’s importance. For Haschke’s
advertisements, see Gericke, Der Wiener Musikalienhandel, 104-5.
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8
Mozart and Viennese music copyists: documentary evidence
Mozart had remarkably little to say about Viennese copyists in his letters, and he
mentioned no Viennese copyist by name. Initially, he seems to have mistrusted Viennese
copyists and to have found them too expensive. Indeed, during his first years in Vienna,
he tried to continue to have at least some of his music copied in Salzburg. In a letter to his
father Leopold, dated 4 July 1781, he wrote:
. . . — die 3 Casazionen brauchte ich gar notwendig — wenn ich nur
unterdessen die ex f und B habe — die ex D kdnnten sie mir mit
gelegenheit abschreiben lassen, und nachschicken, denn das
Copiaturgeld tragt hier gar zu viel aus; und sie schreiben gar zu
unchristlich.
. . . — I needed the three cassations very urgently — if in the meantime
I could have just those in F and B-flat— -the one in D you can have
copied out for me when there’s an opportunity, and send it later. For
the cost of copying here is much too high; and their writing is much too
ungodly.1 4
The following year, Mozart had a score of Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail copied in
Salzburg, partly in order to keep the copying a secret1 5 But eventually he must by
necessity, have accommodated himself to working with Viennese copyists. He must for
example, have employed (or intended to employ) a copyist for his subscription offering of
the piano concertos K. 413, K. 414, and K. 415 early in 1783. As I shall suggest in
Chapter 5, this copyist may have been Joseph Arthofer, who seems to have worked for
Mozart around the beginning of 1783, and who copied manuscript parts for these three
concertos that eventually found their way into the estate of Mozart’s sister Maria Anna.
She in turn left them to the Benedictine Abbey of St. Peter’s in Salzburg, where they
1 4 MBA, ID/136-37. The commentary to this passage in MBA identifies the three
works mentioned in the letter as the Divertimento in F, K. 247, the Divertimento in B-flat,
K. 287, and the Divertimento in D, K. 334.
1 5 MBA, letters of 25 Sep 1782 (HI/231-32), 5 Oct 1782 (ffl/235-36), and 12 Oct
1782 (HI/237). The score was intended for the court in Berlin.
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9
remain today.1 6 However, Arthofer’s name appears nowhere in Mozart’s
correspondence, and he seems not to have worked for Mozart for very long.
Mozart’s employment of Viennese copyists is, however, occasionally reflected in
his letters, at least indirectly, as the following extended example will make plain. In
several letters that Mozart wrote to his father and sister during his first years in Vienna, he
promises to send his sister manuscript copies of variations that he has recently composed.
The matter is first mentioned in a postscript to his sister written on the cover of a letter to
his father dated 15 December 1781. Mozart writes:
Hier hast Du die 6 gestochenen Sonaten, und die Sonate auf 2 Klaviere,
ich wtinsche, daB sie Dir gefallen. — Ftir dich sind nur viere neu, die
Variationen hat der Copist nicht fertig machen kOnnen, mit nMchsten
werde sie Dir schicken.
Here you have the 6 engraved sonatas and the sonata for 2 keyboards;
I hope you like them. — Only four of them are new to you. The
copyist couldn’t finish the variations; I’ll send them to you by the next
post.1 7
The “6 Sonatas” are Mozart’s six sonatas for violin and keyboard, published by Artaria
just a few weeks before this letter was written.1 8 The “sonata for 2 keyboards” is the
1 6 On Arthofer, see below, Chpt. 5, and also my “Recent Discoveries in Viennese
Copies of Mozart’s Concertos,” in Mozart’ s Piano Concertos: Text, Context,
Interpretation, ed. Neal Zaslaw (Ann Arbor University of Michigan Press, 1996), 51-
65. On the manuscripts from the estate of Maria Anna Mozart in St. Peter’s, see Manfred
Hermann Schmid, “Nannerl Mozart und ihr musikalischer Nachlafi: Zu den
Klavierkonzerten im Archiv S t Peter in Salzburg,” in Mozart-Jahrbuch 1980-83 (Kassel:
Bhrenreiter, 1983), 140-47.
1 7 MBA, HI/182.
1 8 Two of the sonatas, K. 296 and K. 378 (317d), had been composed before
Mozart moved to Vienna, and his sister would have already been acquainted with them.
He had composed the other four sonatas (K. 376, K. 377, K. 379, and K. 380) since his
arrival in Vienna in the middle of March 1781, and his sister had not previously seen
them. In a letter to his sister also begun on 15 December, but probably finished a few
days later, he refers to the engraved sonatas and variations again: “Ma tr£s chere sceur!
Ich danke dir fUr alle die Neuekeiten die du mir geschrieben hast hier sind meine
6 Sonaten. — fiir dich sind nur vier Neue dabey. — wegen den Variationen war es nicht
mOglich, weil die Copisten zu viel zu thun haben. so bald es aber moglich ist werde ich
sie dir Uberschicken” (“Ma trds chdre sceur! I thank you for all the news that you wrote to
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Sonata in D, K. 448, which Mozart had composed to perform with his student Josepha
Auemhammer the previous month. However, the identity of the variations remains
uncertain. It has often been suggested that Mozart may have been referring to his eight
variations for solo keyboard on “Dieu d’amour” from Gr&ry’s Les Manages Samnites,
K. 3S2, and perhaps also to his two sets of variations for keyboard and violin, those in
G major on the French song “La Berg&re Cllimdne,” K. 359, and those in G minor on
the French song “Hdlas, j ’ai perdu mon amant,” K. 360.1 9
Alan Tyson’s studies of Mozart’s music papers have shown more or less
conclusively that both K. 359 and K. 360 are written on types of paper that the composer
began to use shortly after arriving in Vienna in 1781.2 0 So these variations could,
indeed, have been among the ones that Mozart intended to send to his sister in December
of that year. The dating of K. 352 is less certain. The autograph of these variations is
lost, and there is no hard evidence to support the notion that they were composed in 1781.
All we know for certain is that they were published by Artaria in 1786.
To complicate matters even further, Tyson’s work on Mozart’s music papers has
led him to redate two other sets of variations for solo keyboard, both formerly thought to
have been composed in Paris in 1778: Mozart’s variations on the French songs “Ah,
vous dirai-je, Maman” (’Twinkle, twinkle, little star”), K. 265, and “La belle Fran^oise,”
me. Here are my 6 Sonatas. — Only four of them will be new to you. — As for the
variations, it wasn’t possible, because the copyists have too much to do. However, I’ll
send them to you as soon as possible”; MBA, m/183).
1 9 These identifications are made, for example, in MBA, VI/70, commentary to line
10 of Mozart’s letter to Leopold of 13 Jun 1781, and VI/72, commentary to lines 23-24 of
Mozart’s letter to Leopold of 20 Jun 1781. These identifications are cross-referenced in
the commentary to every subsequent mention of this topic through the beginning of Apr
1783.
2 0 Tyson’s work on Mozart’s paper will be discussed at length in Chpt. 3. For the
paper-types used in the autographs of K. 353, K. 359, and K. 360, see Tyson,
Wasserzeichen-Katalog, entry for watermark 56.
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K. 353. Just as with K. 359 and K. 360, the autographs of both of these sets are written
on types of paper that Mozart began to use only after arriving in Vienna in 1781. What is
more, the dating of at least one other set of solo variations—those on the French song
“Lison dormait,” K. 264— is open to doubt These variations have traditionally been
assigned to the period of Mozart’s stay in Paris in 1778. However, this dating seems to
have been simply a guess, based on the provenance of the tune, which comes from Julie,
a comedie melee d ’ ariettes by Nicolaus D£zede. Julie was first performed in Paris on
28 September 1772, and was revived on 20 August 1778, when Mozart happened to be
in the city. Thus (so the argument ran) Mozart could theoretically have attended
a performance of it or at least become aware at that time of the popularity of the tune, and
that is why he decided to write variations on it. Ergo, K. 264 was composed in Paris in
1778—obviously, when stated so bluntly, an exceedingly weak argument.
In fact, there is no direct evidence to support this dating. As with K. 352, the
autograph of K. 264 is lost and the variations were first published in 1786. A manuscript
copy that contains corrections and entries in Mozart’s hand seems most likely to be
Viennese and to stem from the 1780s.2 1 Furthermore, one bit of overlooked evidence
211 have not personally examined this manuscript of K. 264, which is in the library
of the Mozarteum in Salzburg (A-Sm). A facsimile of one page, showing corrections and
entries by Mozart, is given in NMA, IX/26, Variationen fu r Klavier, ed. Kurt von Fischer
(Kassel: Bdrenreiter, 1961), xvii. According to the description of the manuscript in the
critical report to NMA, IX/26, watermarks include the world “REAL,” 3 crescent moons,
and an “ornamented W” (“ornamendertes W”). This manuscript is not listed in Alan
Tyson’s catalogue of the watermarks in Mozart’s autographs (Wasserzeichen-Katalog).
However, such a description would correspond to Tyson’s watermark 66, first found in
Mozart’s autographs in paper that the composer acquired in Vienna in 1783 (see Table 3.1
below). Other potential matches include the watermarks Tyson 56,64,76, and 83, all
found only in papers that Mozart acquired in the 1780s. Tyson 25, which also includes
the letter W, occurs in Mozart’s autographs only in works from 1771, and is surely too
early to come into consideration here.
Although it has not yet been possible to make a direct comparison, the copyist of
K. 264 quite possibly matches the copyist of the first and second violin parts in a full set
of orchestral parts for the Symphony in A, K. 201, in the library of the Hochschule fur
Musik und Darstellende Kunst in Graz (A-Gk, 40.821 [Lannoy 52]). Most or all of the
remaining parts in this set are in the hand of Joseph Arthofer, who is known to have
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12
would seem to knock the last prop out from under the traditional dating—an opera entitled
Julie, quite possibly the same work by Ddz&de, was performed by a French theatrical
troupe in the KSmtnertortheater in Vienna around the time of Mozart’s arrival there in
1781.2 2 Thus he could theoretically have attended a performance of Dezede’s work or
become acquainted with the tune in Vienna in 1781.
So it would seem that as many as four sets of solo variations and two sets of
variations for keyboard and violin may come into question as the ones Mozart had wanted
to send to his sister in December 1781, if only “the copyist” had been able to finish them
in time. What else can Mozart’s letters tell us that might shed light on the matter? At the
end of a letter to his father dated 20 June 1781, Mozart writes: “ich schltisse denn ich
mufi noch fllr meine scolarin variazionen fertig machen adieu” (“I must close, for I still
must finish variations for my pupil. Adieu”).2 3 From the letter that he wrote immediately
prior to this one, dated 16 June, we know that this “scolarin” was Countess Rumbeke,
worked for Mozart in 1783, and perhaps later on (see Chpt. 5, esp. Table 5.1). The Graz
parts for K. 201 apparently served as the master copy of this symphony for the Viennese
commercial copyist Johann Traeg, who may perhaps have obtained them directly from
Mozart (on Traeg, see below, Chpt. 7).
2 2 The Allgemeiner Theater Allmanach von Jahr 1782, published in Vienna by
Joseph Gerald, includes a repertoire list (pp. 156-60) of a French theatrical troupe led by
“Messieurs Dalainval und Beauborg” that was resident in the KSmtnertortheater from the
summer of 1780 through at least Sep 1781. This list gives the titles of over 50 plays,
operas, and ballets performed by the company during that period. Unfortunately it does
not give authors, composers, or dates of production. However, the list is not
alphabetical, and it is quite possible that works are listed chronologically. Julie, an
“opera” in three acts (the composers’ names are not given), comes very near the end of
the list, so it may have been performed well into 1781. A German translation of Dezede’s
Julie was certainly performed in the Burgtheater in Vienna on 23 and 26 Aug, and
24 Nov 1779; see Franz Hadamowsky, Die Wiener Hoftheater (Staatstheater) 1776-
1966. Verzeichnis der aufgefiihrten Stucke mit Bestandsnachweis und taglichem
Spielplan. Teil 1,1776-1810, Museion. Veroffentlichungen der Osterreichischen
Nationalbibliothek (Vienna: Georg Prachner, 1966), 69, entry 621.
2 3 MBA, HI/134.
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13
Mozart’s first keyboard pupil in Vienna.2 4 In a letter written on 4 July, just two weeks
after the one mentioning the variations for his pupil, he again writes about variations in
a letter to his sister, evidently in answer to a question from her about new music that he
may recently have written for the keyboard:
Wegen etwas Neues auf das Clavier will ich dir sagen, dafi ich
4 Sonaten in Sdch geben werde, da ist diese ex C und B dabei, und die
andem 2 nur neu. — Dann habe ich 3 Arien mit Variationen
geschrieben, die kbnnte ich dir freilich schicken. aber es ist mir nicht
der Mtihe werth, ich will lieber warten, bis etwas zusammen kOmmt.
Regarding new things for the keyboard, I want to tell you that I’m going
to have 4 sonatas engraved, including those in C and B-flat, and just the
other two new. — Then I have written 3 arias with variations. I could
send you these of course. But it isn’t worth the trouble; I’d rather wait
until something else can be sent along with them.2 3
Mozart is again referring here to his sonatas for violin and piano, although at this point in
early July he is obviously planning to publish only four, instead of the six that eventually
appeared in Artaria’s edition in December. The sonatas in C and B-flat are K. 296 and
K. 378, which he had composed before coming to Vienna, and which his sister would
already have known. It seems very likely that the “3 Arien mit Variationen” are works
that he had written for Countess Rumbeke.
In attempting to identify these pieces, we ought not to take Mozart’s use of the
German word for “aria” to imply that the tunes necessarily came from operas. It is more
likely that he meant merely to imply “airs” or “ariettes,” words that could apply to songs
that were not necessarily connected to a stage production. In fact, only two of the tunes
in the six sets of variations came directly from stage productions: “Lison dormait,” from
2 4 On Countess Rumbeke, see Peter Clive, Mozart and his Circle: A Biographical
Dictionary (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1993), 128-29.
2 3 MBA, m/138-39, letter of 4 Jul 1781.
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14
Ddzfede’s Julie, and “Dieu d’amour,” from a chorus (not an aria) in Gre try’s Les Manages
Samnites.
Of the six sets of variations that Mozart may have composed in 1781—four for solo
keyboard and two for keyboard and violin—which are the three to which he is referring in
his letter of 4 July 1781? In recent years it has become widely accepted that they must
have been K. 352, K. 359, and K. 360. In fact, before Alan Tyson’s studies of Mozart’s
papers gave a firm basis for placing K. 359 and K. 360 in 1781, the dating of all three to
that year seems to have been based mainly on a lack of other sets of variations that could
(so it was thought) possibly correspond to the ones mentioned in Mozart’s letter. In other
words, the choice settled on K. 352, K. 359, and K. 360 by a process of
elimination—for it was considered “certain” that Mozart’s other three undated sets of
variations on French tunes (K. 264, K. 265, and K. 353) dated from 1778. That this
hypothesis was based solely on the French provenance of the tunes and the fact that
Mozart had been in Paris in 1778 did not seem to weaken the conviction with which it
was believed.
However, this line of reasoning turns out to be false (or at least fatally flawed) in
every case. Although Tyson’s paper studies do not allow us to assign a precise date to
either K. 265 or K. 353, neither can have been written before Mozart’s arrival in Vienna
in March 1781, because the two types of paper on which they are written are otherwise
found in Mozart’s autographs only in works that are known to have been written after this
date. Nor, as we have seen, can a persuasive case be made for placing K. 264 in 1778.
So it is entirely possible that Mozart composed all six sets of variations in 1781. That he
should have worked so industriously to compose variations on fashionably French tunes
for his first Viennese pupil, a member of the upper aristocracy, is perhaps not surprising.
It may be impossible to tell precisely which three sets of variations Mozart was
referring to in his letter of 4 July 1781, and it may likewise be impossible to tell if he
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15
meant to refer to the same variations in his letter of 15 December 1781. The task of trying
to identify the variations about which Mozart was writing is not made any easier by the
inherent ambiguity of the word 'Variations,” which may refer either to a single set or to
multiple sets. For all we know, Mozart may have been intending to send just a single set
in December 1781 or he may have planned to send all six.
Be that as it may, this is not the last time the subject of variations arises in his letters
to Salzburg, and it is not the last time that Mozart blames his failure to send them on the
impossibility of having copies finished in time. In a letter to his father dated 23 March
1782, he writes:
Mon trds cher Pdre!
Mir ist sehr leid da£ ich erst gestem erfahren habe, daB ein Sohn vom
Leitgeb mit dem Postwagen nach Salzburg geht, und ich folglich die
schttnste gelegenheit hatte |: ohne unkdsten :| ihnen vieles zu schicken.
— innerhalb dieser 2 T&ge war es aber ohnmOglich die Variationes zu
Copiren. — mi thin habe ich nichts als die 2 Exemplar von meinen
Sonaten mit geben kOnnen. — zugleich ttberschicke ich ihnen auch das
lezte — welches ich zu dem Concert ex D gemacht habe, und welches
hier so grossen larm macht.
Mon tr€s cher P6re!
I’m very sorry that I learned only yesterday that a son of Leutgeb’s was
going to Salzburg with the post coach, and I consequently would have
had the perfect opportunity to send you a lot of things (without cost). —
But it was impossible to have the variations copied within those 2 days.
— Thus I couldn’t have sent anything other than the two exemplars of
my sonatas. — When I send you these I will also send you the most
recent one — which I wrote for the Concerto in D, and which is making
such a great stir here.2 6
At the end of this passage Mozart is referring to the Variations for Keyboard and
Orchestra, K. 382, that he had recently composed to replace the original last movement of
his concerto K. 175. However, he seems to be referring to other variations as well,
2 6 MBA, m/198-99.
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perhaps the same ones that he claimed he had wanted to send in December. He does not
specifically mention a copyist in his letter of 23 March, leaving open the possibility that he
intended to copy out the variations for his sister himself. However, his previous
reference to “the copyist” in his letter of IS December 1781 suggests that he may already
have been employing local copyists (although that particular reference has the ring of
a convenient excuse).
Mozart refers to “variations” yet again in a letter to his father dated 8 May 1782. In
this letter he describes his attempts to get in touch with Count Daun, who had just traveled
to Vienna from Salzburg with a packet of music that Leopold had sent to Wolfgang.
Ich bin 2 mal beym graf Daun gewesen, habe ihn aber niemalen
angetrofFen; die Musique habe aber abhollen lassen. — er ist halt nur
Vormittags anzutreffen, und da gehe ich nur nicht aus, sondem ich ziehe
mich gar nicht an, weil ich zu nothwendig zu schreiben habe. — ich
werde aber es doch klinftigen Sonntage versuchen. — vielleicht kann er
nebst den Variationen auch die MUnchner Opera mitnehmen. —
I went to Count Daun’s twice, but never found him in; however, I did
have the music picked up. — He is only ever in during the mornings,
and I never go out then, in fact I don’t even dress, because it is too
necessary for me to write. — But I’U try again this coming Sunday. —
Perhaps he can also take the Munich opera along with the
variations. —2 7
Mozart is thus suggesting that perhaps Daun can cany some music to Salzburg when he
returns. The “Munich opera” is Idomeneo, and one would assume that the “variations”
may still be those to which Mozart was referring in his letter of 23 March.
Almost a year later, we find Mozart promising once again to send the score of
Idomeneo to Salzburg—along with some variations and two copies of his engraved
sonatas. In a letter to his father dated 29 March 1783, he writes;
klinftigen donnerstag wird H: v: Daubrawaick und Gilowsky nach
Salzburg reisen, welche die MUnchner oper, die 2 Exemplaren von
2 7 MBA, HI/208.
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meinen Sonnaten, nebst= einigen variazionen flir meine schwester wie
auch meine schuld flir die opera Copiatur mitbringen werden.
This coming Thursday Herren von Daubrawaick and Gilowsky are
travelling to Salzburg, and they will bring with them the Munich opera
[and] the 2 exemplars of my sonatas, along with some variations for my
sister as well as my debt for the copying of my opera.2 8
It is difficult to escape the impression here that Mozart had never gotten around to sending
these items to Salzburg in 1782 (his mention of the debt for copying refers to his scheme
for having Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail copied in Salzburg; see the discussion of this
point in Chapter 9). Even so, in his very next letter, dated Thursday, 3 April 1783, the
day of Daubrawaick and Gilowsky’s departure, Mozart once again apologizes for not
sending the variations, again blaming the dilatory copyist:
Mon trds cher Pgre!
Hier schicke ich ihnen die MUnchner oper und die 2 Exemplare von
meinen Sonaten! — die versprochenen Variazionen werde ihnen mit
nUchster gelegenheit schicken, (ten der Copist konnte sie nicht fertig
machen.
Mon trigs cher Pgre!
With this I am sending you the Munich opera and the two exemplars of
my sonatas! — I will send the promised variations at the next
opportunity, for the copyist couldn’t finish them.2 9
This is the last we hear about the variations, and it may be that Maria Anna never received
them.
I have made this digression into the history of the phantom variations for Maria
Anna because the approach used here will be central throughout this dissertation. Much
of the dissertation will consist of a network of what might be called “micro-histories”: the
histories of the composition and performance of particular works, the histories of
2 8 MBA, m/262.
2 9 MBA, HI/262.
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particular manuscripts, and the histories of particular human interactions, such as
Mozart's promise to said variations to his sister. In tracing these micro-histories, I shall
typically begin with a close reading of the correspondence of the Mozart family. This
correspondence, and most especially that of Mozart himself, is among the most
fascinating, entertaining, and poignant bodies of letters in the history of Western
literature, and it has been central to Mozart biography since the early nineteenth
century—indeed, the first large-scale biography of Mozart, by Georg Nikolaus Nissen,
Constanze Mozart’s second husband, consists largely of quotations from these letters.3 0
One might think that nothing would be left to be said about them, that they must already
have been read, glossed, explicated, and translated innumerable times—as indeed they
have. Yet careful contextual readings of the Viennese letters have been few, perhaps
because Mozart is such a towering figure that most historians and musicians have tended
to see him as the sun around which all else revolved, and they have therefore paid little
attention to the mundane contexts in which he lived, composed, and corresponded.3 1
Mozart was, of course, a supreme musical genius, one of the greatest in the history of
music, but he was also a man, living in a day-to-day social world of traditions, practices,
and constraints, just like any other human being. Thus my readings of his letters and
those of his family will often deal with quite mundane contextual matters, such as days of
the week, exchange rates, and current events (such as theatrical performances or
concerts). Often enough, however, we shall find that the implications of such simple
matters have been overlooked or dealt with only superficially. I shall, of course, also
3 0 Georg Nikolaus Nissen, Biographie W. A. Mozarts. Nach Originalbriefen,
Sammlungen alle tiber ihn Geschrieben, mit vielen neuen Beylagen, Steindrticken,
Musikbldttem und einem Facsimile (Leipzig: Breitkopf & HSrtel, 1828; Reprint,
Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1964).
3 1 For one outstanding recent contextual reading of the Mozart family letters,
particularly in regard to Mozart’s years in Salzburg, see Ruth Halliwell, The Mozart
Family: Four Lives in a Social Context (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998).
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19
consider a wide range of other documents bearing on Mozart and his life as a professional
musician in Vienna, including archival records, newspaper reports, posters for concerts
and stage performances, and the diaries and letters of other individuals.
In addition, I shall bring to bear on these micro-histories the results of modern
techniques for the analysis of musical manuscripts. I take my departure here from the
ground-breaking work of Alan Tyson (on Mozart’s music papers), Wolfgang Plath (on
Mozart’s handwriting), and Cliff Eisen (on Mozart’s Salzburg copyists).3 2 I shall extend,
refine, and where necessary, critique the methods of all three, using ideas gleaned from
the wider fields of manuscript and handwriting studies in the humanities and the forensic
sciences, adding to these new techniques that I have developed in my own research.
Other direct references to copyists and copying in Mozart’s Viennese
correspondence are few. In a letter to his father dated 4 January 1783, Mozart asks him
to send:
— die Sinfonie von der lezten hafner=Musique in Wienn verfertiget, ist
mir gleichgiiltig ob in spart oder abgeschrieben, denn ich muB sie
ohnehin zu meiner accademie Offers abschreiben lassen.
— the symphony from the most recent HafFner-Musique, composed in
Vienna: it is all the same to me whether in score or copied out in parts,
for I must in any case have parts copied several times for my academy.3 3
Mozart is referring to the “Haffner” Symphony, K. 385, which he was about to revise for
use in his own concert in the Burgtheater in Vienna on 23 March. In this same letter
Mozart also requests four other symphonies, for which he gives the incipits (K. 204,
3 2 See Alan Tyson, Mozart: Studies o f the Autograph Scores (Cambridge, Mass.
and London, England: Harvard University Press, 1987); Wolfgang Plath, “Beitrage zur
Mozart-Autographie I. Die Handschrift Leopold Mozarts,” in Mozart-Jahrbuch 1960/61
(Salzburg, 1961), 82-118; idem, “Beitrage zur Mozart-Autographie II.
Schriftchronologie 1770-1780,” in Mozart-Jahrbuch 1976/77 (Kassel: Barenreiter,
1978), 131-73; and Eisen, ‘The Mozarts’ Salzburg Copyists.”
3 3 MBA, QI/248. The translation of the German verb “abschreiben” as “to copy
parts” will be discussed in Chpt. 2.
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K.201, K. 182, and K. 183).3 4 He reminds his father about the symphonies again in
a letter dated 5 February 1783:
— und wegen den Sinfonien, besonders aber die letzje — bitte ich sie
recht bald zu schicken. — denn am 3:‘ Sonntage in der fasten nehmlich
den 23:' MSrz ist schon meine accademie — und ich mufi sie noch dfters
radopiren lassen.. . .
— and when it comes to the symphonies, especially however, the most
recent one [that is, the “Haffner”] — I ask you to send it fairly soon —
for my academy is already on the 3rd Sunday in Lent, that is, the 23rd
of March — and I still have to have it duplicated [radopiren] a number of
times.3 5
Both passages clearly imply that Mozart intended to employ one or more copyists to do
the duplicating, but his passive constructions give no clue about the precise nature of
these dealings. Where did the copying take place? To what degree did Mozart supervise
his copyists? How much did they charge?
In Chapter 2, we shall examine in detail three passages that can be interpreted as
implying that Mozart had his copying done at home. Upon his arrival in Vienna in
February 1785, Leopold Mozart wrote to his daughter that he found a copyist still
finishing the parts for a piano concerto that was going to be performed that evening (the
Concerto in D minor, K. 466). However, Leopold’s phrasing does not make clear
whether the copying was being done in Mozart’s residence or in the Mehlgrube, where
the concert was to take place.3 6 In a letter written the previous year, Wolfgang had
assured Leopold that he had his copying done at home, in order to avoid being cheated by
3 4 In Chpt 8 ,1 shall argue that he may have wanted to use these four symphonies
in a series of concerts given that winter by the Russian ambassador Prince Galitsin.
3 5 MBA, m /254. The word “radopiren” is derived from the Italian “raddoppiare”
(“to double”). Mozart’s use of the pronoun “sie” is ambiguous here, and could be
translated either as “them” (referring to all five symphonies) or “it” (referring only to the
“Haffner”).
3 6 See Leopold’s letter of 16 Feb 1785, MBA, m/372-73, cited in Chpt. 2.
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21
unscrupulous copyists (a perennial concern for both Leopold and Wolfgang).3 7 Finally,
Joachim Daniel Preisler, in a report of his visit to the Mozart home on 24 August 1788,
mentions that he found Constanze cutting quills for the copyist, suggesting that Mozart
was planning to have copying done at home.3 8 We will need to keep in mind, however,
that these three documents form an insufficient basis for generalizing about Mozart’s
standard operating procedure.
In 1786 Mozart sold manuscript parts for three of his piano concertos and three of
his symphonies to Prince FUrstenberg in Donaueschingen. The letter accompanying these
parts, written to the prince’s valet Sebastien Winter and dated 30 September 1786, is the
most explicit document we have concerning Mozart’s dealings with Viennese copyists,
merely by virtue of the fact that he attached a bill for the costs of the manuscripts,
including the copying.
Nota.
die 3 Concerte, ohne clavierStimme fl: x:
109 bogen. zu 8 xer:
die 3 clavierStimmen.
14 32
33 und l/, bogen. zu 10 x":
honorarium flir die 3 Concerte.
5 35
18 ducaten. zu 4 fl: 30 x
die 3 Sinfonien
81 ---
116 und '/, bogen zu 8 x:er 15 32
Mauth und Porto 3
---
Summa: 119 fl: 39 x:
[Translation:]
Invoice
The 3 Concertos, without keyboard parts fl: x:
109 Bogen, at 8 kreuzer 14 32
The 3 keyboard parts.
3 7 See Wolfgang’s letter of 15 May 1784, MBA, 111/313-14, cited in Chpt. 2.
3 8 Deutsch, Dokumente, 285, cited in Chpt. 2.
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33 and ‘ /2 Bdgen, at 10 kreuzer 5 35
Honorarium for the 3 concertos.
18 ducats, at 4 gulden 30 kreuzer
The 3 Symphonies
116 and '/2 Bdgen at 8 kreuzer__
Tax and shipping____________
15 32
2 ____=
119 fl: 39 xr.3 9
81
Sum:
Mozart’s bill is reckoned in terms of the prevalent currency of exchange within the empire
at that time, the gulden (abbreviated “fl,” from the equivalent term “florin”), which
consisted of sixty kreuzer (abbreviated “kr” or “xr”). There were several types of ducat,
and the values for these changed over the years, but the common imperial ducat to which
Mozart was referring was at that time worth 4 gulden and 30 kreuzer. as he makes clear
in his bill.4 0 Mozart probably requested an honorarium for the concertos (K. 451,
K. 459, and K. 488) because they had not yet been published and had apparently (unlike
the symphonies) not yet circulated in manuscript. Unfortunately, the manuscripts of the
concertos sent to Donaueschingen are not known to survive, but the parts for the
symphonies (K. 319, K. 338, and K. 425) do, and they provide us with a great deal of
useful information about Mozart’s transactions with his Viennese copyists.4 1
3 9 MBA, III/589-90. Mozart had first written to Winter on 8 Aug 1786 {MBA,
IU/565-67), evidently in response to a lost letter requesting music. In that letter, Mozart
offered Winter four symphonies (K. 425, K. 385, K. 319, and K. 338), five piano
concertos (K. 453, K. 456, K. 451, K. 459, and K. 488), a violin sonata (K. 481),
a piano trio (K. 496), and a piano quartet (K. 478); Mozart identified all of the works by
their incipits. Of these, Winter must have requested (in a letter known only through
Mozart’s response) just the concertos K. 451, K. 459, and K. 488 (the other three are
crossed out in the original of Mozart’s letter, see the commentary to the letter of 8 Aug,
MBA, VI/302) and the symphonies K. 425, K. 319, and K. 338.
4 0 For a more detailed discussion of currency rates in the 1780s, see my, “Mozart's
Fee for Cost fan tutte," Journal o f the Royal Musical Association 116 (1991): 211-35,
here esp. 218, and also below, Appendix B.
4 1 On these parts, see Friedrich Schnapp, “Neue Mozart-Funde in
Donaueschingen,” in Neues Mozart-Jahrbuch 1942 (Regensburg: Gustav Bosse Verlag:
1942), 211-23, and also below, Chpts. 2 and 11.
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23
For one thing, Mozart’s bill helps us understand the meaning of the term “Bogen,”
and it shows us how composers and copyists went about reckoning the price and value of
manuscript copies. As we shall see in Chapter 2, the term “Bogen”—more or less
equivalent to the equally polysemous English word “sheet”—took on various meanings
depending on the context in which it was used. When used by an eighteenth-century
paper-maker, for example, “Bogen” referred to the entire sheet of paper as it came from
the paper-maker’s mold. These large sheets were typically folded and cut before use: in
the case of music paper, a sheet was normally folded twice, once on the long axis and
once on the short However, the term “Bogen” was used differently by music copyists
and those who sold music paper. In this context the word “Bogen” was used to refer not
to an entire sheet in the form in which it had been manufactured, but rather to a folded
half-sheet or bifolium, as it was sold and used. As we shall see in Chapter 2, it is
Mozart’s letter to Donaueschingen and the surviving parts for his symphonies that will
provide one of the key pieces of evidence in support of this interpretation.4 2
Mozart seems sometimes to have written instructions and comments to copyists
directly on his autographs. For example, at the beginning of the autograph of the Andante
cantabile of the string quartet, K. 387, Mozart wrote: “izt wird mir / von diesem /
Andante das / 2*; Violin und / die Viola / herausgeschrieben / die Barrstim[m]e /
kom[m]t erst nach / tisch. / das erste / Violin ist schon / geschrieben” (“Now the second
violin and viola of this andante are to be written out for me. The basso part will come
after the meal. The first violin is already written”).4 3 Whether this is an instruction to
4 2 On the Donaueschingen parts, see also Cliff Eisen, “New Light on Mozart’s
‘Linz’ Symphony, K. 425,” Journal o f the Royal Musical Association 113 (1988): 81-
96. Eisen (82-83) suggests that Mozart may simply have purchased these sets of parts
from Johann Traeg, and resold them to the court in Donaueschingen.
4 3 Mozart’s underscores have been omitted in the transcription. On this inscription,
see also Chpt. 3, n. 260.
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24
a copyist or a reminder to himself is unclear. Similar inscriptions are occasionally found
on other autographs. For example, the autograph of the tenor aria “Misero! O sogno,
o son desto?. . . Aura, che intomo spin,” K. 431 (425b), written for Valentin
Adamberger, carries the autograph remark: “MUssen alle Stim[m]en herausgezogen
werden und radopirt— gleich aber die Parte Cantante und gleich dem H[erm]
Adamberger hinschicken” (“All parts must be extracted and duplicated—the vocal part
immediately, however, and send it immediately to Herr Adamberger”)-44 As we shall see
in Chapter 8, some of Mozart’s orchestral parts for this aria (although not Adamberger’s
vocal part) survive in the Stadt- und Universitatsbibliothek in Frankfurt, and thus it may
be possible to identify the copyist to whom these comments were addressed. The
autograph of the accompanying basset horn parts for four of the six “Nottumi” attributed
to Mozart (K. 436, K. 437, K. 438, and K. 439) carries an inscription in his hand
reading “Von diesen 4 stUcken mufi Jede stimme herausgezogen werden. — es wird noch
ein Stuck nachfolgen” (“Each part must be extracted from these 4 pieces. — Another
piece is still to follow”).4 3
4 4 The autograph is in US-NYpm and has been published in facsimile as Wolfgang
Amadeus Mozart, Misero! O sogno; Aura, che intom o spirt Arie fu r Tenor und
Orchester, KV431 (425b). Faksimile der autographen Partitur, Documenta
musicologica, 2. Reihe, Handschriften-Faksimiles, 22 (Kassel: BUrenreiter, 1988).
Again, this entry could conceivably be Mozart’s reminder to himself.
4 3 Transcription taken from the listing for K. 436 in K6. The “autograph” score of
Mozart’s arrangement of Handel’s Messiah also contains an instruction to the copyists.
Andreas Holschneider, the editor of this arrangement for the NMA, mentions an
inscription at the beginning of No. 38 that reads: “clarinetti mdssen ex. f. geschrieben
werden” (“clarinets must be written in F ’). See NMA, X/28/1/2, DerMessias, critical
report (Andreas Holschneider), 13. An entry into the autograph of Le nozze di Figaro can
also be interpreted as an instruction to a copyist. In the chorus “Giovanni liete,” No. 8,
Mozart has written “Wenn dieser Chor das zweite Mai gesungen wind, so bleiben die
Instrumenten wie das erste Mai” (“If this chorus is sung the second time, the instruments
remain as the first time”).
K6 mentions a similar entry in a copy of the duet “Ah guarda sorella” from Cost fan
note. Under the heading “Abschriften” in the entry for that opera one reads: “Duett Nr. 4
mit der vom Dresdner Geh. Rat Dr. Joh. Heinr. Feuerstein geschriebenen Bemerkung,
daB er das von W. A. Mozart ‘eigenhUndig geschriebene’ Duett von der Witwe Mozarts in
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Mozart may occasionally have used friends or relatives as copyists. He seems, for
example, to have employed his student Franz Xaver SQssmayr to make copies from the
autograph of Die Zauberflote as it was being composed. We do not know exactly what
sort of copies these may have been, as they are not known to survive.4 6 However,
Mozart refers to the matter several times in the summer of 1791 in letters written to his
wife in Baden bei Wien, where she was taking a cure at the spa in the company of
SQssmayr. For example, in an undated letter from the end of June or beginning of July of
that year, Mozart writes:
NB. GrUfie mir den Snai — ich laB ihn fragen wie’s ihm geht? — wie
einem Ochsen halt, er soli fleifiig schreiben da£ meine Sachen bekomme
— adjeu.
NB. My greetings to Snai [Mozart’s nickname for SQssmayr] — Ask
him for me how he is. — Just like an ox, he should keep writing
industriously, so that I can get my things — adieu.4 7
Salzburg erhalten habe: Wien 1953, Dorotheum. Auf dieser Abschrift hat Mozart jedoch
eine eig., fUr den Kopisten bestimmte Anweisung angebracht: ‘N. B. MuB eine jede
Stimme besonders ausgeschrieben werden.’ (M itt Karl v. Hohenlochers, Experten
f. Autographe am Dorotheum Wien)” (“Duet No. 4, with an inscription written by
Geheimer Rat Dr. Joh. Heinr. Feuerstein in Dresden that he received the ‘autograph’ duet
by W. A. Mozart from the Widow Mozart in Salzburg: Vienna 1953, Dorotheum. On the
copy, Mozart has, however, given the following autograph instruction intended for the
copyists: ‘N. B. Each part must be written out individually’ [reported by Karl von
Hohenlocher, expert for autographs at the Dorotheum in Vienna]”). The current location
of this copy is unknown.
The date given for the auction in K6 may be incorrect On 14 Feb 1956 an article
mentioning this manuscript appeared in the Viennese newspaper Die Presse (No. 2221)
under the headline “Mozart-Manuskripte im Dorotheum entdeckt” (“Mozart Manuscripts
Discovered in Dorotheum”). The duet from Cost is the second of two manuscripts
described in the article as new discoveries. It has so far not been possible to locate copies
of the Dorotheum auction catalogues from 1953 and 1956 in order to verify the date.
I am grateful to Michael Lorenz for uncovering the article in Die Presse, and for his
attempts to track down the auction catalogues.
46 Neal Zaslaw (personal communication) has suggested that SQssmayr may have
been copying rehearsal parts for the singers.
4 7 MBA, IV/143.
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26
That these “things” were sections of Mozart’s score of Die Zauberflote becomes clear
from a letter of Mozart’s dated 2 July 1791:
Ich bitte dich sage dem SUssmayer dem Dalketen buben, er soil mir vom
ersten Ackt, von der Introduction an bis zum Finale, meine Spart
schicken, damit ich instrumendren kann. gut ware es, wenn ers heute
noch zusammen machte, damit es mit dem ersten Wagen morgen frith
abgehet, so bekomme ich es doch gleich zu Mittag. —
Please tell SUssmayr, the daft rogue, that he should send me my score of
the first act from the Introduction up to the Finale, so that I can
orchestrate. It would be good if he put it together today in order that it
will go out early tomorrow with the first coach, so that I will already
have it by midday. —4 8
He sends a reminder the following day:
Ich hoffe SUssmayer wird nicht vergessen daB was ich ihm
herausgelegt, auch gleich zu schreiben — auch hoffe ich mir heute die
StUcke von meiner Partitur | so ich verlanget | zu erhalten. —
I hope SUssmayr will not forget also to write out immediately what I got
ready for him — I also hope to receive today the pieces of my score (as
I requested). —4 9
And finally, on 5 July, rather more rudely, he writes:
SUssmayer soli mir doch N:° 4 und 5 von meiner schrift schicken —
auch was ich sonst begehrt habe, und soil mich im Arsch lecken.
SUssmayr should send me No. 4 and S from my manuscript — also the
rest of what I desired, and should kiss my ass.5 0
There is, however, no other evidence to suggest that SUssmayr functioned in any normal
sense as Mozart’s music copyist, and we shall have to defer judgment about the
implications of these passages.5 1
4 8 MBA, IV/144.
4 9 MBA, IV/145.
5 0 MBA, IV/146.
5 1 There is some evidence to suggest that Mozart’s student Franz Jakob Freystadtler
(1761-1841) may have functioned as a copyist for Mozart Four leaves of the
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Mozart’s Viennese copyists are occasionally mentioned in anecdotes circulated after
his death. For instance, in 1798 Friedrich Rochlitz published two Mozart anecdotes in the
Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung that refer at least indirectly to copyists. The first deals
with a well-known publisher (Rochlitz seems to be referring to Artaria), who had,
without Mozart’s knowledge, acquired manuscript copies to use as Vorlagen for
unauthorized editions of some of Mozart’s keyboard works:
Jene spekulativen Herm wussten sich dann Abschriften zu verschaffen
und dnickten nun frisch darauf los. Besonders hatte ein gewisser
ziemlich beriihmter Kunsthhndler eine Menge solcher Geschaffte
gemacht, und eine Menge Mozartscher Kompositionen gedruckt,
verlegt, verkauft, ohne den Meister nur darum zu firagen. Einst kam ein
Freund zu diesem — “‘Da hat der A. wieder einmal eine Parthie
Variationen fiir’s Klavier von Ihnen gedruckt: wissen Sie davon?’
‘Nein!’ ‘Warum legen Sie ihm aber nicht das Handwerk einmal?’ ‘Ey
was soil man viel Redens machen: er ist ein Lump!’ ‘ Es ist aber hier
nicht bios des Geldes, sondem auch Ihrer Ehre wegen!’ ‘Nun — wer
mich nach solchen Bagatellen beurtheilt, ist auch ein Lump! Nichts
mehr davon.’”
These speculative gentlemen [the music dealers] knew how to acquire
copies for themselves, and they then printed them off in short order. In
particular, a certain quite famous art dealer had made a great number of
such transactions, and had printed, published, and sold a great number
of Mozart’s compositions, without even asking the master about it. One
day a friend came to the latter — “‘A. [Artaria?] has once again printed
a set of keyboard variations by you: did you know about it?’ ‘No!’
‘Why don’t you put a stop to his game?’ ‘Ah, why make such an issue
of it? He is a rascal!’ ‘But here it is not just a matter of money, but also
of your honor!’ ‘Well — whoever judges me by such trifles is also
a rascal! No more about it.’”5 2
“autograph” of the String Quintet in G minor, K. 516, are written in Freys tad tier’s hand,
and Freystadtler is also responsible for a complete score copy (now in the Osterreichische
Nationalbibliothek) of the Piano Concerto in B-flat, K. 456. On these manuscripts, see
esp. Michael Lorenz, “Franz Jakob Freystadtler (1761-1841). Neue Forschungs-
ergebnisse zu seiner Biographie und seinen Spuren im Werk Mozarts,” Acta Mozartiana
44, Heft 3/4 (1997): 85-108. However, the four leaves in the autograph of K. 516 may
have been later replacements, perhaps made at the request of Constanze Mozart during the
course of her dealings with Johann Anton Andre in 1799 and 1800; for more on the
history of the autograph of K. 516, see Chpt. 8, n. 47.
5 2 Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung, vol. 1, No. 6, 7 Nov 1798, col. 83; cited in
Gertraut Haberkamp, Die Erstdrucke der Werke von Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, 2 vols.,
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The reliability of Rochlitz’s anecdotes has been seriously called into question, most
recently by Maynard Solomon, so we should perhaps take this tale with a grain of salt3 3
However, we should also perhaps not be too quick to dismiss it out of hand. As Rupert
Ridgewell has recently shown, Joseph Arthofer, a copyist who worked for Mozart in
1783, later had dealings with the Artaria publishing house. It cannot be ruled out that
Arthofer or some other individual may have served as a conduit for unauthorized
copies.34 And Artaria did, indeed, publish many of Mozart’s keyboard works, including
nine sets of variations between 1786 and 1791 (ten, counting an edition of K. 382
arranged for keyboard solo, which Artaria published in 1787).3 3
A second Rochlitz anecdote seems to refer to Emanuel Schikaneder and his role in
the production of unauthorized copies of Die Zauberflote. A down-at-heels (“ganz
heruntergekommen”) theater director asks Mozart for an opera. The director cannot
afford to pay the composer much for it, and Mozart decides to give him the score under
Musikbibliographische Arbeiten, ed. Rudolf Elvers (Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1986),
vol. 1,18. My translation. This passage is given in a different translation in Maynani
Solomon, ’The Rochlitz Anecdotes: Issues of Authenticity in Early Mozart Biography,”
in Mozart Studies, ed. Cliff Eisen (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 1-59, here 19. The
firm of Artaria normally referred to itself as “KunsthMndler” (art dealer), because it sold
prints (and still does, although it no longer sells music).
3 3 See Solomon, “The Rochlitz Anecdotes.”
3 4 Rupert M. Ridgewell, “Mozart and the Artaria Publishing House: Studies in the
Inventory Ledgers, 1784-1793” (Ph.D. diss., Royal Holloway, University of London,
1999), 107-8. The reference to Arthofer is found in Artaria’s Ledger 6 (WStLB,
Handschriftensammlung, I. N. 67722, Artaria Geschdftsinventar Nr. 6) on folio 27v.
This inventory was prepared in 1793. I wish to express my sincere thanks to Rupert
Ridgewell for allowing me to read and comment on a late draft of his dissertation.
3 3 Another possible conduit between Mozart and Artaria might have been Mozart’s
student Josepha Auemhammer. An anonymous letter from Vienna dated 29 Jan 1787 and
published in Cramer’s Magazin derM usik writes of Auemhammer “Sie ist es, die viele
Sonaten und varirte Arietten von Mozart bey die [s/c] Herren Artaria zum Stich besorgt
und durchgesehen hat” (“It is she who attended to and checked the engraving by Messrs.
Artaria of many of Mozart’s sonatas and varied ariettas”); see Carl Friedrich Cramer, ed.,
Magazin der Musik, zweyter Jahrgang, zweyte Hdlfte (Hamburg: Musicalischen
Niederlage, 1786; reprint, Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlag, 1971), 1274.
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29
the condition that the director shall prohibit the making of copies, so that Mozart may
benefit from selling the opera to other theaters if it is successful. The opera is, indeed,
very successful:
. . . der Zulauf war gross, ihr Ruf flog in Deutschland umher, und nach
wenigen Wochen gab man sie schon auf auswMigen Theatem, ohne
dass ein einziges die Partitur von Mozarten erhalten hatte.
. . . it was very popular, its reputation spread rapidly throughout
Germany, and after a few weeks it was already being given in theaters
elsewhere, without a single one of them having obtained the score from
Mozart5 6
Gertraut Haberkamp, who cites this anecdote in the preface to her study of first editions
of Mozart’s works, points out that Mozart’s biographer Otto Jahn had already cast doubt
on its reliability, because no productions of Die Zauberflote are known to have been
mounted outside of Vienna before Mozart’s death.5 7 In any case, such a restriction on the
copying of an opera would have been unusual, since theatrical copyists in Vienna in the
eighteenth century seem as a matter of course to have assumed the right of duplication of
an opera if they had legitimate access to a source for it However, most of the earliest
Viennese copies of Die Zauberflote seem not to have been based directly on Mozart’s
autograph, which may lend some support to the substance of this anecdote, if not to its
details.5 8
5 6 Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung, vol. 1, No. 6,7 Nov 1798, col. 84; cited in
Haberkamp, Die Erstdrucke, 18. My translation. The entire anecdote is also given in
a different English translation in Solomon, “The Rochlitz Anecdotes,” 20-21.
5 7 Haberkamp, Die Erstdrucke, 18.
5 8 Karl Pfannhauser reports on a document that he found among the writings of
Joseph HUttenbrenner (1796-1882), concerning people still alive at the time he was
writing who might know the location of Mozart’s grave. Included on this list is the entry
“Blach kk: Staatsbuchh[altungs] beamter in Wien, war Mozarts Kopist —” (“Blach,
imperial royal State Accounting Official in Vienna, was Mozart’s copyist”). It seems
likely that this “Blach,” if Hiittenbrenner’s account is accurate, was probably not a music
copyist, but perhaps rather a copyist of official documents and petitions, such as Mozart’s
request in 1791 to be named Leopold Hofmann’s prospective replacement as
Kapellmeister at St. Stephen’s in Vienna {MBA, IV/131; an autograph of this petition also
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As this brief survey has shown, little direct documentary evidence can be brought to
bear on the investigation of Mozart’s Viennese copyists, and no document directly
associated with the composer mentions any Viennese copyist by name (with the possible
exception of SQssmayr). In order to identify Mozart’s Viennese copyists we shall
therefore be forced to rely on other sorts of evidence: primarily the copies themselves,
and any secondary documentary evidence that may shed light on their provenance.
Previous studies of Mozart’s Viennese copyists
Given their potential importance, it is astonishing to discover that Viennese copies
of Mozart’s music have never been systematically studied.3 9 For example, the index of
the comprehensive Mozart bibliography to 1970 (published as the Mozart-Jahrbuch 1975)
contains no entries whatsoever under the terms “Abschriften,” or “Kopisten,” and none at
all under the names “Sukowaty,” “Traeg,” or “Lausch.”6 0 The same is true of the
supplements for 1971-75,1976-80, and 1981-85.
Yet, upon closer consideration, this lack of interest in copyists is perhaps not so
surprising. Ever since the late 1790s, Mozart scholars have traditionally concerned
themselves mainly with autographs and early editions, taking other manuscript copies into
account only when neither autograph nor edition was available. In fact, Kbchel makes
clear in the preface to the original edition of his catalogue of Mozart’s works that this was
precisely his intention: to list non-autograph manuscript copies only where no autographs
survives). See Karl Pfannhauser, “Epilegomena Mozartiana," in Mozart-Jahrbuch
1971/72 (Salzburg, 1973), 268-312, here 283, n. 37. I am grateful to Michael Lorenz
for bringing this reference to my attention.
5 9 Portions of the following section were presented in a somewhat different form in
my paper “Manuscript Copies of Mozart’s Music,” presented at the study session “Recent
Mozart Research and Der neue Kochel,” meeting of the International Musicological
Society, London, 20 Aug 1997.
6 0 Rudolph Angermttller and Otto Schneider, Mozart-Bibliographie (bis 1970).
Mozart-Jahrbuch 1975 (Kassel: Barenreiter, 1976).
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31
or editions were known or accessible.6 1 In the third edition of the Kbchel catalogue,
Alfred Einstein adds a few manuscript copies, mainly from archives in Berlin and Vienna,
but his listings are still sparse, and he seems to have had no clear policy regarding such
copies.6 2
The sixth edition of the Kochel catalogue, published in 1964, was the first to
attempt a comprehensive treatment of manuscript copies, which had seemed suddenly to
take on much greater importance, because so many of Mozart’s autographs had
disappeared after the end of the Second World War. The preface to the sixth edition of
the catalogue gives what is perhaps the first explicit recognition in modem Mozart
scholarship of the potential importance of contemporaneous manuscript copies of
Mozart’s works, and it is worth quoting from it at length:
With the current decimation of Mozart’s manuscripts, increasing
attention has also been given to manuscript copies [Abschriften] of his
works. . . .
[the preface here quotes Kochel’s original policy on manuscript copies,
and then mentions the continuing importance of manuscript copies
deriving from the collections of Jahn, Kochel, and Aloys Fuchs]
. . . However, in recent years Mozart research has also sought
increasingly to track down contemporaneous manuscript copies.
Textually, these too are of varying reliability. Yet in musical
matters—slurs, dynamics, etc.—they are mostly “more correct,”
because they are marked by the stamp of contemporary practice. The
6 1 See Ludwig Ritter von Kdchel, Chronologisch-thematisches Verzeichnis der
Werke W. A. Mozarts (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Hartel, 1862), “Vorwort,” as reprinted in
Ludwig Ritter von Kochel, Chronologisch-thematisches Verzeichnis sdmtlicher Tonwerke
Wolfgang Amade Mozarts, ed. Franz Giegling, Alexander Weinmann, and Gerd Sievers,
6th ed. (Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Hartel, 1964), xii. Kdchel writes: “ Abschriften sind
nur dort erwahnt, wo keine Ausgaben, oder ofter auch, wo nur unzugangliche
Autographe bekannt sind. In alien jenen Fallen, wo Abschriften nicht erwahnt sind,
ungeachtet keine Ausgaben bekannt sind, befinden sich die ersten in den Sammlungen des
Prof. Otto Jahn und des Verfassers” (“Manuscript copies are mentioned only where
editions are unknown, or more often where only inaccessible autographs are known. In
all of those cases where manuscript copies are not mentioned, even though editions are
unknown, there are copies in the collections of Prof. Otto Jahn and the author”).
6 2 No such policy is mentioned in his preface (the preface is reprinted in K6, xxv-
liii).
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most reliable copies are no doubt those personally corrected by Mozart
They include either corrections or additions in his own hand, or they are
signed with his name, such as the recently discovered manuscript copy
of the Piano Concerto 456 (Moscow, State Central Museum) with
previously unknown cadenzas; it bears on its last page the autograph
entry: “Vienna./ di Wolfgango Amadeo/ Mozartmpr. [1]784” In
Vienna during Mozart’s time, especially well-known “Kopiaturen”
(workshops or writing rooms [Schreibstuben] in which manuscript
copies were produced) included: Lorenz Lausch, Wenzel Sukowaty,
Christoph Torricella, and Johann Traeg. Only in individual cases has it
been possible to trace the provenance of such manuscript copies. The
various handwritings are recognized readily enough, but it is not easy to
determine to which workshop they belong, because one must also take
account of job changes by individual copyists. The music paper—and
thus also the watermark—cannot give any information here, because in
most manuscript copies it is the same as that used by Mozart, Gluck,
Haydn, and other composers. Thus we are only at the beginning of
research regarding the time of origin and the scribes. However, an
impressive number of copies can be captured with chronological
exactness from advertisements in the Wiener Zeitung. It complicates
matters considerably, though, that various copies advertised there are
now lost.6 3
63 K6, “Vorwort,” lvii-lviii. “Bei der augenblicklichen Dezimierung von Mozarts
Handschriften hat man mehr und mehr sich auch den Abschriften seiner Werke
zugewandL . . . Mehr und mehr hat die Mozart-Forschung in den letzten Jahren jedoch
auch die zeitgendssischen Abschriften aufzuspttren gesuchL Textlich sind auch sie von
unterschiedlicher Zuverl&sigkeit. Doch sind sie in musikalischen Dingen, Bindebogen,
Dynamik usw., meist ‘richtiger’, weil ihnen die zeitgendssische Praxis den Stempel
aufgepragt hat Am verlaBlichsten sind wohl die von Mozart eigenhMndig korrigierten.
Sie enthalten entweder Korrekturen oder ErgSnzungen von seiner Hand oder sind mit
seinem Namen gezeichnet wie z.B. die jlingst bekannt gewordene Abschrift des
Klavierkonzerts 456 (Moskau, Staatliches Zentralmuseum) mit bisher unbekannten
Kadenzen; sie trSgt auf der letzten Seite den autographen Vermerk: ‘Vienna. / di
Wolfgango Amadeo / Mozart mpr. 784.’ Von sog. Kopiaturen, Werkst&ten oder
Schreibstuben, in denen Abschriften hergestellt wurden, sind beispielsweise aus Wien zu
Mozarts Zeit besonders bekannt: Laurenz Lausch, Wenzel Sukowaty, Christoph
Torricella und Johann Traeg. Man hat erst in einzelnen Fallen die Herkunft solcher
Abschriften ermitteln kdnnen. Die vetschiedenen Handschriften sind wohl bald
registriert; aber welcher Werkstatt sie angehdren, ist nicht leicht festzustellen, weil auch
mit einem Stellenwechsel der einzelnen Kopisten gerechnet werden muB. Das
Notenpapier—und damit auch das Wasserzeichen—kann hier keine Auskunft geben, weil
es bei den meisten Abschriften dasselbe ist, das auch Mozart, Gluck, Haydn and andere
Komponisten benutzt haben. Wir stehen also inbezug auf Entstehungszeit und Schreiber
solcher Abschriften erst am Anfang des Forschens. Eine stattliche Reihe von Kopien laBt
sich indessen aus den Anzeigen in der ‘Wiener Zeitung’ chronologisch genau erfassen.
Allerdings f&llt erschwerend ins Gewicht, daB verschiedene dort angezeigte Kopien heute
verschollen sind.” The manuscript of K. 456, which is mostly in the hand of my
Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1, will be discussed in Chpt. 6.
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This last statement presupposes that these advertised “copies” existed in fact rather than
intent, and that they would have been recognized if they did exist While reasoning along
these lines may be valid for printed editions, it is not necessarily so for manuscript copies,
which were made to order. Thus the advertisement of a particular work in manuscript
does not imply that the advertiser ever in fact created such a copy for distribution.
However, we can assume that the advertiser must at least have had access to
a Vorlage—a model on which to base the potential copy—although this need not have
been a manuscript. Even if commercially advertised and distributed manuscript copies of
this sort were created and still survive, they might not necessarily have been recognized
by scholars, for most Viennese copyists did not sign their work, and they can only be
recognized through their handwriting. The point that contemporaneous copies are
potentially “marked by the stamp of contemporaneous practice” is an especially important
one, and one to which we shall return repeatedly in the course of this dissertation.
In retrospect, this remarkable passage from the sixth edition of the Kochel catalogue
reads like a manifesto for a revolution that never took place. The editors were wrong
about the utility of watermarks, of course, as Alan Tyson has so thoroughly demonstrated
in his work on the paper-types of Mozart’s autographs. They apologize later in the same
preface for the incompleteness of their own attempt to come to terms with manuscript
copies. In describing what is included in the catalogue under the heading “Abschriften,”
they write:
The heading “Abschriften” has been quite considerably expanded. As
mentioned above, many manuscript copies have undergone an important
revaluation because of the fact that a number of autographs are missing.
In spite of all efforts, however, comprehensiveness could not be
achieved in the relatively short time available. And of all the headings,
this one in particular required further examination and clarification,
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34
namely regarding the mutual interrelationship of the manuscript
copies.6 4
In fact, the coverage of copies in the sixth edition is inconsistent and far from complete,
and it remains an unreliable guide to either their location or their relative significance. In
particular, the usefulness of the sixth edition for the study of manuscript copies was
compromised by its failure to make any attempt to distinguish Viennese copies from non-
Viennese ones, “authentic” copies from “non-authentic” ones, or eighteenth-century from
nineteenth-century ones. Perhaps most importantly, it fails to list many of the most
important copies, such as Mozart’s own surviving Viennese performing parts (in Fulda,
Frankfurt, Berlin, Graz, and elsewhere), and much of the surviving original performing
material (scores and parts) for Mozart’s Viennese operas and insertion arias. All of these
items will be discussed in this dissertation.
Editors for the Neue Mozart-Ausgabe did little better. If they tried to come to terms
with Viennese copies (and many did not), they treated such copies superficially and were
often mistaken in their conclusions about them. Some editors disguised their ignorance
behind such stock phrases as “Wiener Kopie um 1800,” a remarkably useless evaluation,
as what one generally really wants to know is whether the copy originated during
Mozart’s lifetime and whether it had anything directly to do with him. Andreas
Holschneider, in his editions of Mozart’s Handel arrangements, was the first (and, it is
safe to say, the only) editor for the Neue Mozart-Ausgabe to attempt to provide systematic
and complete information about the copyists of his principal sources. He was also the
only editor to provide samples of his copyists’ handwritings, and the only one to attempt
6 4 K6, “Vorwort”, Ixvi-lxvii. “Die Rubrik der Abschriften wurde ganz betrachtlich
erweitert. Wie oben erwahnt, haben viele Abschriften durch das Verschollensein einer
Reihe von Autographen eine bedeutende Aufwertung erfahren. Trotz aller Anstrengungen
war aber in der verbal tnismafiig kurzen zur Verftigung stehenden Zeit keine
Vollstandigkeit zu erreichen. Auch bedarf gerade diese Rubrik ganz besonders weiterer
Sichtung und Klarung, namentlich im HinbUck auf den gegenseitigen Zusammenhang der
Abschriften.”
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35
to link this information with the watermarks in the paper that they used.6 3 Although his
conclusions hold up fairly well, his methods for analyzing hands and watermarks were
insufficiently refined. Furthermore, the format in which he presented handwriting
samples made those samples extremely difficult to use.
Up until the 1980s, the only important Mozart scholar to have dealt in any
systematic way with Viennese copies was the late Wolfgang Plath—but Plath’s published
references to Viennese copyists were limited, by and large, to cryptic references in articles
and prefaces to “notorische Wiener Mozart-Kopisten.”6 6 (“Notorisch,” one wonders, to
whom? Certainly not to most Mozart scholars.) One cannot escape the impression that
Plath knew a great deal more about Mozart’s Viennese copyists than he let on, and he
clearly served as the Neue Mozart-Ausgabe's resident graue Eminenz on copyists, as is
attested by the many acknowledgments to him in the footnotes to editorial prefaces and
critical reports. But Plath never published anything dealing explicitly with copyists, and
Mozart scholars have been constrained to take him at his word. (We shall see in
Chapter 5, however, that Plath probably contributed an anonymous appendix to the
critical report for the symphony version of the serenade K. 320, an appendix dealing with
the copyists of a partially “authentic” set of parts for that symphony in Graz.)6 7 In recent
years the critical reports published by the Neue Mozart-Ausgabe have made some attempt
6 3 See NMA, X/28/1/2, DerM essias, critical report (Andreas Holschneider), esp.
112-14. Holschneider mixed together on a single staff the same symbol as written by
different copyists. Although he gives a key to help match various symbols with various
copyists, it is extraordinarily difficult (although not impossible) to build from this
a picture of an individual hand. On Holschneider’s treatment of copyists, see also
Chpt. 3.
66 See, for example, Wolfgang Plath, “Mozartiana in Fulda und Frankfurt (Neues
zu Heinrich Henkel und seinem NachlaB),” in Mozart-Jahrbuch 1968-70 (Salzburg,
1970), 333-86.
6 7 See NMA, IV/11/7, critical report (GUnter Hausswald), g/94-g/96. See Chpt. 5
for a full discussion of the Graz parts for K. 320 and the addendum to the critical report.
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36
to deal more comprehensively with copies. For example, Franz Giegling’s 1994 critical
report for La clemenza di Tito lists twenty-one non-autograph manuscript sources for that
opera. But even here, no attempt has been made to identify the copyists and paper-types
in a way sufficiently detailed to allow reliable conclusions to be drawn about their
provenance.
In the 1980s, Mozart copies and Mozart’s copyists finally began to receive serious
attention from scholars. Alan Tyson, for example, wrote about the textual importance of
eighteenth-century Viennese manuscript scores of Le nozze di Figaro and Cost fan tu tted
He did not, however, deal directly with the identification of the individual copyists in
these sources. More recently, Cliff Eisen, in his work on the Mozart family’s Salzburg
copyists, has shown that some previously neglected manuscript copies of Mozart’s works
can be regarded as “authentic” (that is, as authorized and in some cases supervised and
corrected by Mozart or his father).6 9 Up to now, no attempt has been made to investigate
Viennese Mozart copies with similar rigor.7 0
6 8 Tyson, Mozart: Studies o f the Autograph Scores, Chpt 13, “On the
Composition of Mozart’s Cost fa n tutte,” 177-221, and Chpt 18, “Some Problems in the
Text of Le nozze di Figaro: Did Mozart Have a Hand in Them?,” 290-327.
6 9 Eisen, “The Mozarts’ Salzburg Copyists.” See also Cliff Eisen, “The
Symphonies of Leopold M ozart A Bibliographical and Stylistic Study” (Phi), diss.,
Cornell University, 1986); idem, “New Light”; and idem, “Sources for Mozart’ s Life and
Works,” in The Mozart Compendium: A Guide to Mozart's Life and Music, ed. H. C.
Robbins Landon (New York: Schirmer Books, 1990).
7 0 This dissertation has its roots in my unpublished paper “Mozart’s Viennese
Copyists,” delivered at the Internationaler Mozart-KongreB Salzburg 1991,2-6 Feb 1991.
Some information included in this dissertation was first publicly presented in that paper
(in particular, a very early version of the material in Chpt 6 on Viennese Mozart-Copyist
1, here treated in much greater detail). In addition to the articles mentioned in nn. 1,4,
16, and 39,1 have also presented earlier versions of some of the material in this
dissertation in the following articles and papers: “Mozart’s Viennese Copyists,” John
Bird Lecture, Department of Music, University of Wales College of Cardiff, 8 Mar 1994,
presenting material developed here in Chpt 9; “The Original Performance Material and
Score for Mozart’s Le nozze di Figaro,” a paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the
American Musicological Society, New York, 4 Nov 1995; “The Study of Eighteenth-
Century Music Paper Problems and Prospects,” a paper presented at the First
International Conference on the History, Function, & Study of Watermarks, Roanoke
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37
It is not difficult to see how manuscript copies of Mozart's music might have come
to be neglected. Mozart scholars have long been seduced by what might be called the
“cult of the autograph”: the Romantic notion that an autograph by Mozart (or the
autograph of any other certified “genius”) ought to be treated as a holy relic, representing
the unmediated record of the composer’s (by definition “perfect”) inspiration, unsullied
by the intervention of lesser mortals, such as copyists, engravers, performers,
conductors, stage managers, or librettists. In any case, relatively many Mozart
autographs survive (compared, for example, to those of a composer such as Joseph
Haydn), and where they do not, or where they were temporarily inaccessible (as with the
huge cache of autographs that turned up in Krakow in the mid 1970s), early prints or
nineteenth-century copies made from autographs were usually deemed sufficient for the
purposes of making editions. Mozart scholars were seldom forced to consult
contemporaneous manuscript copies to establish a text. Neglect of Viennese Mozart
copies may also have been encouraged by two common, but probably mistaken beliefs:
that music printing rapidly displaced hand copying as the predominant method for the
distribution of music in Vienna in the 1780s (a notion that we have already seen to be
questionable), and that Mozart’s music was poorly appreciated by his Viennese
contemporaries anyway, and hence not widely distributed.
Virginia, 10-13 Oct 1996; “The Copy Shop of the Theater auf der Wieden and the Mozart
Attributions in the Hamburg Score of Der Stein der Weisen," a paper presented at the
Annual Meeting of the American Musicological Society, Boston, 31 Oct 1998; “The
Digital Imaging of Watermarks” in The Virtual Score: Representation, Retrieval,
Restoration, ed. Walter B. Hewlett and Eleanor Selfridge-Field, Computing in
Musicology 12 (Cambridge, Mass. and London: MIT Press, 2001), 261-74; “Viennese
Mozart-Copyist 1,” a paper presented at the Meeting of the Southern Chapter of the
American Musicological Society, Birmingham, Alabama, 12 Feb 1999; and “The
Orchestral Parts from the First Viennese Production of Don Giovanni in 1788,” a paper
delivered at the Annual Meeting of the American Musicological Society in Toronto, 3 Nov
2000.
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38
Still, the rather cavalier attitude of the Neue Mozart-Ausgabe and other Mozart
scholars toward Viennese manuscript copies seems strange in light of the evident
importance of at least some copies dating from Mozart’s final decade. Autographs are
missing for a surprisingly large number of works from this period, and modem editions
of such works have necessarily been based on manuscript copies or early editions.
Editions in the Neue Mozart-Ausgabe for which one or more Viennese manuscript copies
have served as principal sources include most of the sets of variations for solo
keyboard;7 1 the Concerto for Oboe (or flute), K. 314; several insertion arias from
Mozart’s Viennese years; and almost all of the late dances. The Neue Mozart-Ausgabe
edition of the “Linz” Symphony, K. 425, the autograph of which is not known to
survive, is based on a Viennese set of manuscript parts from the 1780s in the former
collection of the Donaueschingen court, the very parts that Mozart sent to the court in
1786. Yet in this case, as Eisen has shown, the Neue Mozart-Ausgabe overlooked what
is quite possibly an even more reliable set of parts, probably made from the autograph, by
Joseph Estlinger, one of the Mozart family’s most important and reliable Salzburg
copyists.7 2
Scope
The present dissertation is intended to lay the foundation for the systematic study
and evaluation of eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century Viennese copies of Mozart’s
music. In part, I have undertaken this task in order to provide material for the New
Kochel catalogue under the general editorship of Neal Zaslaw. The topic of Mozart’s
Viennese copyists is vast, and it is impossible to treat it comprehensively here. I shall
7 1 See NMA, IX/26.
7 2 Eisen, “New Light.”
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39
not, for example, discuss manuscript copies of Mozart’s works from his earlier trips to
Vienna in 1768-69 and 1773, although these are topics well worth investigating. I shall,
by and large, not consider manuscripts that were copied after Mozart’s death, although
I shall make exceptions for manuscripts prepared by copyists who are known to have
worked for Mozart when he was alive (see especially Chapters 5,6, and 7) and
manuscripts which may have had a direct connection with Constanze Mozart (see
Chapter 8). I shall give relatively little space to Viennese copyists, such as Lorenz
Lausch, whose direct connection with Mozart remains unproven (Lausch will, however,
be discussed briefly in Chapter 11). I shall, on the other hand, attempt to cover as
comprehensively as possible the following types of Viennese copies of Mozart’s music:
1. I shall attempt to identify and discuss all currently known
“authentic” manuscripts in the generally accepted sense of the term:
that is, manuscripts that may have been prepared at Mozart’s direct
behest or under his supervision (I shall call this the “strong” sense
of “authenticity”). It may not always be possible to determine with
certainty whether or not a particular manuscript is authentic in this
strong sense.7 3 In any case, the copyists of Viennese manuscripts
we deem authentic will almost always also appear in other
manuscripts with only an indirect connection to Mozart (such as
the performing material from Mozart’s operas or his arrangements
of Handel’s oratorios), or they may appear in manuscripts with no
direct connection to him at all. As we shall see, Mozart’s Viennese
copyists were apparently only temporarily or intermittently
“authentic,” however one wishes to define the term. Thus this
dissertation will need to consider a relatively large number of
manuscripts that are not “authentic” in the strong sense in order to
shed light on those that are. Two Viennese copyists who are
known to have worked directly for Mozart are treated in separate
chapters: Joseph Arthofer (Chapter S) and the anonymous copyist
I shall refer to as Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1 (Chapter 6).
2. I shall provide a comprehensive treatment of the Viennese copyist
and music dealer Johann Traeg in his capacity as a copyist,
arranger, and distributor of Mozart’s music (Chapter 7).
7 3 For a thorough discussion and critique of the use of the word “authenticity” in
regard to musical sources, see Chpt. 4.
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3. I shall attempt to identify all known non-autograph Viennese
manuscripts that stem from Mozart’s musical “estate.” In doing
so, I shall distinguish carefully between copies that were made
during his lifetime (and thus possibly under his supervision) and
ones that were added to his “estate” after his death (Chapter 8).
4. I shall attempt to identify and discuss all surviving material directly
connected with Viennese performances of Mozart’s theatrical
works during his lifetime. The shop of Wenzel Sukowaty, chief
copyist of the Viennese court theater, will be discussed in
Chapter 9, and the shop of Kaspar Weifi, head of the copy shop
of the Theater auf der Wieden, will be discussed in Chapter 10.
5. I shall consider manuscripts (other than those associated with
Viennese theaters) that may stem from non-theatrical performances
with which Mozart was involved, but where he may not have had
direct responsibility for the copying. Among the more important
items in this category are the materials related to the composition
and performance of his arrangements of Handel’s oratorios, which
will be considered in Chapters 6 and 11.
Even within these constraints, this dissertation cannot hope to be comprehensive,
and lacunae remain. I have not yet been able personally to examine all of the manuscripts
discussed here: in particular, I have not yet seen the manuscripts sent to Prince
FUrstenberg in 1786, which until quite recently were still in the family’s possession in
Donaueschingen and are now in the Badische Landesbibliothek in Karlsruhe. Nor have
I been able to see the original performing materials from Mozart’s D er Messias, from the
archive of the Lobkowitz family. I have not yet had the opportunity to investigate every
collection that may contain important non-autograph manuscripts connected with Mozart.
It is not out of the question, for example, that the archive of the Andrd family in
Offenbach may contain further manuscripts from Mozart’s estate; I have not, however,
been able to investigate the Andrd archive in the preparation of this dissertation.7 4 Nor
7 4 For recent research on the Andr£ archive, see Britta Constapel, Der Musikveriag
Johann Andre in Offenbach am Main. Studien zur Verlagstdtigkeit von Johann Anton
Andre und Verzeichnis der Musikalien von 1800 bis 1840, WUrzburger Musikhistorische
Beitrdge, ed. Ulrich Konrad, vol. 21 (Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1998). Constapel was
not specifically searching for Mozart manuscripts, but does not mention having found any
that were previously unknown.
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have I been able to examine every entry or insertion into Mozart’s autographs by hands
other than Mozart’s. Recently, thousands of references to manuscript copies of Mozart’s
music have become available online through RISM A/II. Most of these copies have not
yet been evaluated, but I shall occasionally refer to some of them in the pages that follow,
particularly in cases where the manuscript shows promise of being particularly interesting
or significant.
Issues
Seven principal themes will be woven throughout this dissertation: (1) the social,
professional, and musical contexts of music copying in eighteenth-century Vienna; (2) the
identification of musical handwriting and the analysis of musical manuscripts; (3) the
concept of “authenticity,” as applied to copyists, manuscripts, readings, and works;
(4) Mozart’s biography and the chronology of his works; (5) the history of the
composition and performance of particular works by Mozart, including the performance
practices relevant to them; (6) the distribution and reception of Mozart's music; and
(7) the concept of the musical “work” and the theory of editing. These issues will
sometimes be addressed explicitly, and sometimes will remain in the background. Much
of this dissertation will of necessity be technical and concerned with the explication of
detail. However, the larger issues will continually shape and direct all of the more
detailed and technical observations and discussion. For that reason, I shall briefly
address each of these larger issues here in turn.
The contexts of music copying
In order to interpret musical manuscripts as historical documents, it is necessary to
understand the contexts in which they were created. Who wrote them and why? Were
the copyists professionals or amateurs? What did it mean to be a “professional” music
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copyist in late eighteenth-century Vienna? How was music produced by professional
copyists? How much did materials cost and how much did copyists charge for their
services? What were the meanings of the specialized terms used by music copyists?
What, for example, did it mean when an eighteenth-century Viennese copyist charged by
the “Bogen”? In Chapter 2, “Music Copying in Eighteenth-Century Vienna: Terms and
Contexts,” I shall attem pt to answer all of these questions, and I shall also return to many
of them later on in quite specific contexts. For example, in Chapter 9, “Wenzel Sukowaty
and the Copy Shop o f the Viennese Hoftheater,” I shall consider in detail the specific
procedures by which Sukowaty’s shop went about producing the scores and performing
parts for new operas. My discussion there will be based in part on the evidence of
surviving scores and orchestral parts from the first production of Le nozze di Figaro in
1786 and the first Viennese production of Don Giovanni in 1788.
The identification of musical handwriting and the analysis of musical
manuscripts
Although we will be able to discover the names of a large number of music copyists
active in Vienna in the late eighteenth century (see Chapter 2), only in a handful of cases
will we be able to connect these names with musical handwritings. Most Viennese music
copyists remain anonymous, and they can therefore only be recognized and identified as
individuals through their handwriting.
The study and identification of the hands of anonymous music copyists is by no
means a new endeavor in the field of music history, but such identifications have most
often been made “ostensively”—that is, scholars have pointed to two samples of
handwritings and said, in effect, “look, these are the same.” Previous studies of music
copyists have, by and large, lacked an explicit methodology—and their results have often
been correspondingly dubious. Even the relatively rigorous methodologies developed by
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such scholars as Georg von Dadelsen (for the study o f Bach sources), and Ingmar
Bengtsson and Ruben Danielson (for the study o f the manuscripts of the Swedish
composer Johan Helmich Roman) remain relatively unknown to music historians, as do
the somewhat less detailed methods used by Alan Tyson (for the study of Beethoven
copyists), LdszkS Somfai (for Gluck copyists), and Peter Jeffery (for Cavalli copyists).7 5
Furthermore, these methods all tend, to varying degrees, to lack generality, having been
developed to deal with particular well-defined groups o f musical handwritings.
In Chapter 3, “The Analysis of Manuscript Music and Musical Handwriting,”
I shall attempt to combine the work of these scholars with the techniques of forensic
handwriting identification in order to develop a rigorous and well-defined general
methodology for the description and identification o f musical handwriting. In that chapter
I shall also consider in detail the materials and implements used by eighteenth-century
music copyists, including quill pens, iron-gall inks, and music paper. In each case I shall
consider how we may best analyze these materials and implements to extract the
maximum possible amount of information from surviving musical manuscripts. In an
attempt to move toward this goal, I shall consider the history of the manufacture and
distribution of the music papers created by northern Italian mills, and I shall re-examine
the techniques and interpretation of watermark evidence. I shall also develop more
refined methods for the investigation of staff ruling than have hitherto been used by most
scholars of eighteenth-century Viennese music.
“Authenticity”
The word “authenticity” can be used in a variety o f quite different ways in reference
to musical works and their sources. When, for example, we say that a musical “work” is
7 5 For complete bibliographical reference to these studies, see the full explication
and critique in C h p t 3.
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“authentic,” we generally mean that it was in fact composed by the person to whom we
are attributing i t Scholars also sometimes refer to particular copies, copyists, or readings
as “authentic” but here the meaning o f the term is less well defined In Chapter 4,
“Kinds of Copyists and Kinds of Copies,” I shall examine the history of the usage of the
term “authentic” in its application to Mozart’s music and its sources. I shall also offer an
alternative and more nuanced scheme for the classification of copies and copyists. In
Chapter 8, “Mozart’s ‘Estate,”’ I shall return to a quite specific episode in the history of
the term “authentic,” tracing its use and gradual definition by Constanze Mozart and the
German publisher Johann Anton Andrg in their correspondence concerning Mozart’s
musical manuscripts. As I shall show, their use o f the term (as well as their misuse of the
term “estate”) was motivated partly by their desire to establish control, in the face of
strong competition from such publishers as Breitkopf & Hartel, over the boundaries of
Mozart’s oeuvre.
In general, for the works of Mozart’s Viennese years, there are relatively few
unresolved questions of attribution. However, I shall in the course of this study consider
several such cases, attempting to discover what light the study o f Viennese copyists may
shed on these disputed works. Examples include the so-called “Nottumi” for three voices
and winds (K. 346, K. 436, K. 437, K. 438, and K. 439, discussed in Chapter 6); the
aria “Io ti lascio, o cara, addio,” K. 621a (likewise discussed in Chapter 6); the Wind
Serenade in E-flat, Anhang C 17.01 (discussed in Chapter 7); the anonymous
accompanied recitative preceding Mozart’s insertion aria “Vado, ma dove?,” K. 583, in
the Viennese performing score of II burbero di buort cuore (discussed in Chapter 9); an
accompanied recitative attributed to Mozart in the Viennese performing score of La
quacquera spirituosa (likewise discussed in Chapter 9); and the newly discovered
attributions to Mozart in the Singspiel Der Stein der Weisen (discussed in Chapter 10).
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Biography and chronology
At first glance, it might seem that Mozart’s life during his final decade in Vienna is
thoroughly understood, and that the chronology o f his works from those years must be
firmly established, especially after Alan Tyson’s revolutionary researches into Mozart’s
music papers. However, our knowledge of Mozart’s life from the time of his arrival in
Vienna in 1781 until his death in 1791 actually has a quite narrow documentary basis. By
far the most important sources are his own letters and those o f his father Leopold. The
biographical information supplied by the letters is supplemented by Mozart’s works
themselves, along with the dates that Mozart wrote on them or assigned to them in the
catalogue that he began to keep in February 1784— his Verzeichnu/3 allermeiner Werke.1 6
Yet the preservation of Mozart’s letters and those of his father is quite inconsistent.
Almost all of Mozart’s letters to his father and sister (but none of theirs) have been
preserved for the period from March 1781 until the summer of 1784. In contrast, for the
period 1784 until just before Leopold’s death in May 1787, it is mainly Leopold’s letters
to his daughter that survive, but not those that Mozart wrote to him or he to his son.
Except for the brief period o f Leopold’s trip to Vienna in Lent 1785, his reports to Maria
Anna of Wolfgang’s activities in Vienna tend to be brief and rather inexact summaries.
After Leopold’s death, most o f Mozart’s surviving correspondence dates from those
comparatively brief periods during which he was separated from his wife, when he
himself was away from Vienna or she was in Baden taking the cure. The only other
significant body of correspondence from Mozart’s later years consists of his pathetic
7 6 See the fine facsimile of this catalogue published by Albi Rosenthal and Alan
Tyson, Mozart’ s Thematic Catalogue: A Facsimile, British library Stefan Zweig MS 63
(Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1990). M ozart’s full original title is
Verzeichniifi alter meiner Werke vom Monath Febraio 1784 bis Monath 1. He has
left both the month and year blank for the closing date of the catalogue, poignantly writing
a single “1 ” instead o f “ IT ’ for the year, in the expectation that the catalogue might serve
him into the 1800s.
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letters to Michael Puchberg begging for loans (and many of these do not survive in
autograph).
Thus our documentation of Mozart’s life during his final decade is sporadic, and
even where a large number of letters survive, significant gaps still remain in our
knowledge. Some periods are scarcely documented: for example, the spring o f 1782
(when Mozart was completing Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail), the winter and spring of
1785-86 (when Mozart was working on Le nozze di Figaro), and 1788, when Mozart
remained at home with his wife and had little reason to write to anyone, his father having
died and his relationship with his sister having gone sour. To be sure, there are
documents of various kinds in addition to correspondence that shed some light on
Mozart’s life during this decade: posters and advertisements for performances of his
works, advertisements of his works by music copyists and publishers, a handful of
reviews, various kinds of archival records (such as those relating to the deaths o f his
children or payments to him by the Viennese court theater), and occasional references to
him in the correspondence and diaries of others. But by and large, documentation of this
sort is quite thin for Mozart’s final decade, and again, some periods are scarcely
documented.7 7 For example, we know very little about public concerts in Vienna during
the first six months o f 1786, and cannot document the first performance of even so
famous a work as Mozart’s Piano Concerto in A, K. 488.
The study of manuscript copies of Mozart’s works may provide us with new
evidence that helps to fill in some of these gaps, or that may at least point to hypotheses
for further research. At several points in this dissertation, I shall be able to identify and to
7 7 For a more detailed consideration of the documentation of the last five years of
Mozart’s life, see my “Mozart's Reception in Vienna, 1787-1791” in Wolfgang Amadi
Mozart: Essays on his Life and his Music, ed. Stanley Sadie (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1996), 66-117, here esp. 66-70.
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date performing parts that belonged to Mozart, and these will sometimes point to
performances that were hitherto unidentified or even unknown. My consideration of the
copyist and music dealer Johann Traeg will provide grounds for suggesting that he
enjoyed a close working relationship with Mozart, even though he is never mentioned in
Mozart’s letters. I shall also have occasion in the course of this study to revise and extend
my own earlier work on Mozart’s role in Viennese concert life during his final decade.7 8
As our brief consideration of Mozart’s variations has already suggested, there are
still surprisingly many unresolved questions concerning the chronology of the works that
Mozart wrote during his Viennese decade. Often during the course of this study I shall
have cause to consider questions of chronology, and I shall propose numerous datings or
redatings. In a few cases, reconsideration of the chronology of particular works or
groups of works may shed new light on particular aspects of M ozart’s life. For example,
in Chapter 6 1 shall re-examine Mozart’s relationship with his student and friend Baron
Gottfried von Jacquin. This relationship has usually been depicted, on the basis of the
commonly accepted datings of the works that link the two men, as having lasted from at
least 1783 until 1791. As we shall see, however, all of the works in question were
actually composed within a quite narrow period from late 1786 through 1787. It may be
that the period o f Mozart’s close association with Jacquin and his circle was much shorter
than has hitherto been realized.
The history of composition and performance
Much o f this dissertation will be concerned with manuscript material that was used
in performance: Mozart’s own performing parts (discussed in Chapters S, 6, and 8), the
scores and parts from performances of his arrangements of Handel’s oratorios (discussed
7 8 See my review article of Morrow, Concert Life in Haydn's Vienna, and below,
esp. Chpt. 8.
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in Chapters 6 and 11), and the original performing scores and parts associated with
Viennese performances of his operas and insertion arias (Chapter 9). In some cases,
these semes and parts will provide new and unexpected insights into the compositional
history o f the works they represent The original Viennese performing seme and parts of
Le nozze di Figaro, in particular, will provide an abundance of new information about
last-minute revisions and perhaps even post-last-minute revisions to the opera in 1786, as
well as new information about the revival of the opera in Vienna in 1789 (these sources
will be discussed in Chapter 9).
The manuscripts from these performances will also have much to tell us about
performance practices in late eighteenth-century Vienna. The numbers of surviving
orchestral parts will give us evidence of the sizes o f the orchestras that used them.
A detailed examination of the procedures by which parts were produced for operas will
provide new insight into the ways in which these operas were rehearsed. Markings in
performing parts will help demonstrate how ensembles were directed and kept together.
Perhaps most importantly, the “readings” of the copyists themselves will give us our only
direct glimpse into the ways in which professional Viennese musicians of the late
eighteenth century interpreted Mozart’s notation.
Distribution and recaption
Properly interpreted, contemporaneous manuscript copies of Mozart’s music can
also tell us a great deal about the early distribution and reception of his music, both in
Vienna and elsewhere. The reception of Mozart’s music during his lifetime has
traditionally been judged, in part, by the apparent infrequency with which his works
appeared in print in Vienna and elsewhere. Yet as I have already shown, music printing
and music copying were on more or less an equal footing in late eighteenth-century
Vienna, with manuscript music perhaps still having the economic edge over printed music
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in some markets and some genres, such as operas and orchestral works. In fact, the
profound changes to the Viennese music market in the 1780s seem to have given renewed
impetus to a local tradition of what we might call the “scribal publication” of music.7 9 In
this sense, the copyists Wenzel Sukowaty and Lorenz Lausch were the principal
publishers and distributors of Mozart’s stage music throughout the 1780s and into the
1790s, only gradually losing ground to publishers o f printed editions after Mozart’s
death, with the exploding popularity of Die Zauberflote, which made printed editions of
that opera economically feasible. As I shall show in Chapter 7, Johann Traeg probably
stocked and advertised the largest collection of Mozart’s music of any music dealer in
Europe, and he offered that music in an astonishingly wide variety of arrangements.
Traeg was, as I shall show, one of the most important early figures in the “scribal
publication” of Mozart’s music.
The musical “work” and the theory of editing
At perhaps its deepest and most philosophical level, this dissertation will be
concerned with the nature of the musical work and the theory of textual editing. These
topics will seldom be addressed directly, although in my closing chapter 1 shall
summarize some of the implications of my findings for both of these areas. I shall argue,
in particular, that the detailed compositional history o f a complex collaborative enterprise
such as an opera shows that such a “work” never existed in a single stable state, but was
continually modified and adapted both before and after its premiere. This point is, in
itself, hardly novel. However, its implications for M ozart have rarely been
acknowledged.
7 9 The term “scribal publication” is adopted from Harold Love, Scribal Publication
in Seventeenth-Century England (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), reprinted as The
Culture and Commerce o f Texts: Scribal Publication in Seventeenth-Century England
(Amherst: University o f Massachusetts Press, 1998).
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On a more concrete level, many of the manuscript sources discussed in this
dissertation are essential (if sometimes neglected) sources for any potential editors of
Mozart’s music. Some o f these manuscripts are (or should be) regarded as principal
“witnesses” (to use the traditional stemmatic term) of the works they represent Thus, for
example, the manuscript parts for the Concerto for Oboe (or flute), K. 314, discussed in
Chapter 7, are the earliest surviving sources for both versions o f this concerto, for which
autographs do not survive. The surviving original performing parts for the aria “A 1 desio,
di chi t’adora,” K. 577, with which Mozart replaced Susanna’s “Deh vieni, non tardar” in
the 1789 Viennese revival of Le nozze di Figaro, are the principal (albeit incomplete)
source for that work and were almost certainly copied from the lost autograph. Similarly,
the Viennese court theater’s original performing scores for some o f Mozart’s insertion
arias will be shown to be the principal sources in cases where autographs are missing.
Some o f the manuscripts I shall examine here contain autograph corrections and entries by
Mozart, or contain non-autograph cuts, tempo markings, and other detailed readings that
date from early and authorized performances.
Methodology
The general methodology adopted throughout this dissertation can perhaps be
described as “historical ethnography”: the imagined observation, as closely and in as
much detail as possible, of a past human activity—in this case, music copying—in order
to see how that activity was carried out in a particular place at a particular time by
particular human beings. Obviously, the sort o f direct observation that a sociologist or an
anthropologist might undertake is impossible for a historian. The human beings who
performed the actions are long dead, and the historian can only examine the surviving
traces o f their actions, while attempting to imagine sequences of these actions that might
explain the current states of the traces. In order to be able to prune the exponentially
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expanding tree of such imagined scenarios, and thereby to narrow the range of plausible
or likely explanations for these states, it is necessary to squeeze as much information as
possible from whatever traces happen to survive, using whatever technical means and
methods of reasoning that we may have at our disposal.
The analysis of the types o f paper found in Mozart’s autographs is a case in point.
It seems entirely reasonable to suppose that Mozart had little, if any awareness of the
watermarks in the music papers that he used during his career, and it seems absurd to
think that he had any precise idea of the “total span” of the staff ruling (although he was
very likely aware of the general quality of the paper, and he clearly had distinct
preferences in types of staff ruling).8 0 Yet, as Alan Tyson has persuasively shown, the
systematic and meticulous examination of watermarks and staff ruling in Mozart’s
autographs can provide a wealth of information about Mozart’s actions as a composer and
the sequence of those actions, even though these can no longer be directly observed.
I shall also attempt always to retain a sense of time in all observations, inferences,
deductions, and statements about past actions and their surviving traces. In particular,
I shall discard the assumption, implicit in almost all previous writing on musical
manuscripts, that a manuscript is a stable and unchanging object. Every existing musical
manuscript is, in fact, constantly changing, and this change is often not trivial. In the
short run, it may suffer damage from Are, water, or human neglect. Librarians,
researchers, or others, may make additional marks on the manuscript, either intentionally
(as with a librarian’s foliation or library stamp) or unintentionally (the fingerprints of the
8 0 In reference to music paper on which the staff lines on each page were all ruled at
once by a compound rastrum, the term “total span” (from Alan Tyson) refers to the
measurement, in millimeters, from the top line of the uppermost staff on the page, to the
bottom line on the lowermost staff (more precisely, the measurement should be taken
from the midpoint of each line, to avoid distortions to the measurement from the
spreading of the ink). See Chpt. 3.
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greasy-fingered researcher). All manuscripts suffer gradual deterioration, even if only
very slowly. Paper, however high in quality, eventually discolors and crumbles with
age. Ink fades and may gradually eat through paper, crayon and pencil fade and smudge.
All of the musical manuscripts existing today will almost certainly cease to exist within, in
geological terms, a relatively short span—say, 1000 years or so. There is not now, nor is
there ever likely to be, a perfect method for preserving manuscripts or for making perfect
facsimiles of them. Some information will always be lost, no matter how refined the
facsimile. (On the other hand, some technologies for making facsimiles, such as infrared
or ultraviolet photography, or digital imaging, can bring out information that is invisible
to the unassisted eye.)
The study of music copyists addresses the processes o f the production,
transmission, and reception of music (the last of these in terms o f the distribution of
musical manuscripts), and also the immediate reception o f the piece by the copyists
themselves, in their performative roles as interpreters and transcribers. The study of
manuscript copies is thus potentially an important element in the study of musical
performance practice. For music composed before the advent of recorded sound,
manuscript copies may be the only concrete surviving documentation of a trained
musician’s (in this case, the copyist’s) interpretation of the notation o f another (the
composer).
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Chapter 2
Music Copying in Eighteenth-Century Vienna:
Terms and Contexts
Le plus habile Copiste est celui dons la Musique s'execute avec le plus
de faciliti, sans que le Musicien m ime devine pourquoi.
Rousseau, Dictionnaire
Terms
The word “copy,” when used in reference to musical notation, implies the
intentional duplication of something already existing, whether in manuscript or in printed
form. A copy is, by definition, secondary, and copying is an activity distinct, in some
sense, from the creation of the primary physical manifestation of an original idea. Every
musical text (or, to be more precise, every individual element of every musical text) must
at some time have appeared fo r the first time in physical form—as, say, ink on paper.
The word “copy” implies, then, the existence of an exemplar or model upon which the
copy is based (in the present study I shall normally prefer the German word “Vorlage,”
the denotation of which is more precise than that of “exemplar”). In music, a manuscript
copy is usually seen as something distinct from a composing score, a sketch, or any other
kind of manuscript that can be regarded as the primary physical manifestation of an
original thought.
Music copying in this sense can be done by anyone, including a composer. Some
manuscripts written down by Mozart are copies rather than originals. As Wolfgang Plath
has pointed out, a piece of music is not by Mozart simply because the manuscript is in his
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hand.1 We know that Mozart did, in fact, sometimes copy the works o f other composers,
because some of these copies still ex ist2 For example, a copy exists in Mozart’s hand of
nine numbers from a “Stabat mater” by the director of music at the Florentine court the
Marquis of Ligniville, whom Leopold and Wolfgang had met during their stay in Florence
in 1770.3 There is no question that this manuscript is a copy. Mozart may have made it
for study or perhaps simply because he was fond of the piece. In any case, it is not an
original work by M ozart even though the manuscript is an autograph.
Mozart sometimes acted as his own copyist This copying might take several
forms. When composing, Mozart often made extended melodic continuity sketches, and
he sometimes also made detailed sketches of particular passages.4 When he came to write
out the full score of the composition in question, he would often transfer these sketches to
that score. Often, however, he revised such sketches in the process of transferring them,
or he sometimes altered the transferred passages later on. Admittedly, this kind of
1 See Wolfgang Plath, “Zur Echtheitsfrage bei Mozart,” in Mozart-Jahrbuch 1971/2
(Salzburg, 1973), 19-36, here 24-25.
2 A now somewhat out-of-date list of such copies is given as Anhang A in K6. See
also Karl Pfannhauser, “Mozart hat kopiert!” Acta Mozartiana 1 (1954): 21-25,38-41,
and Monika Holl, “Nochmals: ‘Mozart hat kopiert!’ Das ‘Kyrie’-Fragment KV 1861/91
- Teil einer Messe von Georg von Reutter d. J.,” Acta Mozartiana 30 (1983): 33-36.
3 This copy was auctioned by Sotheby’s o f London in Dec 19%. See Fine Printed
and Manuscript Music, catalogue of an auction held on Friday, 6 December 1996
(London: Sotheby’ s, 1996), item 164, p. 79. The catalogue (p. 78) includes a facsimile
of one page from the manuscript To my knowledge, Mozart’s Vorlage remains
undetermined, although it could have been either Ligniville’s autograph, or perhaps an
early edition. Ligniville’s “Stabat mater” had been printed in at least two editions by
1770; see R1SM, A ll, Einzeldrucke vor 1800, L 2416.
4 On the role o f Mozart’s sketches in his compositional process, see Ulrich Konrad,
Mozarts Schaffensweise. Studien zu den Werkautographen, Skizzen und Entwiirfen,
Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Gottingen. Philologisch-historische
Klasse, dritte Folge, vol. 201 (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1992); and idem,
“Mozart's Sketches,’’ Early Music 20, no. 1 (1992): 119-30. See also Konrad’s
magnificent facsimile edition of the sketches with transcriptions and commentary,
Skizzen, vol. X/30/3 o f Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Neue Ausgabe samtlicher Werke
(Kassel: Bdrenreiter, 1998).
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“copying” is not precisely the same sort of activity as what we might call “pure copying”
(that is, where someone attempts to reproduce as accurately as possible in written form
something already written or printed by someone else). Mozart was the creator as well as
the copyist when he made these transfers from sketch to score, and he could (and
probably usually did) revise and fill in during the process of copying.
Mozart seems also occasionally to have drafted a work in complete score and then
made a fair copy of it (a “Reinschrift”), using the draft as a Vorlage.5 To be sure, he
might likewise make minor corrections and emendations while preparing such a fair copy,
but this activity was much closer to “pure copying” than was the activity of transferring
sketches to composing scores. Copying of another sort was involved when Mozart made
arrangements o f his own works.
Mozart sometimes even copied out performing parts for his own works. This kind
of copying was not normally part of the compositional process, but was simply a matter
of reproducing something that he had already written. For example, the archive of the
Benedictine abbey of St. Peter’s in Salzburg preserves a keyboard part and two horn parts
for Mozart’s Piano Concerto in A major, K. 414 (385p).6 The keyboard part is in the
hand of one o f Mozart’s Viennese copyists, Joseph Arthofer—but the two horn parts
were written down by Mozart himself.7 Like the score of Ligniville’s “Stabat mater,”
5 As examples of Reinschrifien Konrad cites the autographs of the Keyboard
Concerto in C, K. 246, the aria “Non so, d’onde viene,” K. 294, and the Vesperae
solennes de confessore, K. 339 (Mozarts Schaffensweise, 347).
6 A-Ssp, Moz. 255.1. This source is mentioned under the heading “Abschriften” in
the entry for K. 414 in K6; however, the entry omits the shelf mark and fails to mention
the presence o f the autograph hom parts.
7 On Arthofer, see Chpt. 5, and also my “Recent Discoveries in Viennese Copies of
Mozart’s Concertos,” in Mozart’ s Piano Concertos: Text, Context, Interpretation, ed.
Neal Zaslaw (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996), 51-65, here esp. 51-55.
The autograph hom parts for K. 414 are listed in Tyson, Wasserzeichen-Katalog,
Textband, 26, under Watermark 56; this same watermark is also found in Mozart’s
autograph scores for K. 413 and K. 415.
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these parts are autograph, but they cannot be regarded as original composing manuscripts.
They will nevertheless be of considerable interest as textual sources, because Mozart may,
while writing them down, have taken the opportunity to correct errors, to make small
changes, or to clarify readings that may seem ambiguous in his original autograph scores.
Klaus Hortschansky has discovered that the archive of the Andre family in
Offenbach preserves an autograph part for basso and another for two oboes for Mozart’s
Keyboard Concerto in D major, K. 175.8 The autograph score of this concerto, which
was once in the possession of F. A. Grafinick, has been lost since at least the 1870s.
Although K. 175 was composed in 1773, Hortschansky has shown that the autograph
parts very likely date from the time of Mozart’s journey to Mannheim and Paris in 1777-
78. In this case, Mozart’s parts preserve a revised version of the concerto’s
orchestration, and we cannot be sure whether they are copies of a revision worked out on
some other (lost) manuscript, or whether the parts themselves may instead be the actual
composing manuscripts.
Mozart was by no means the only composer to copy his own music. For example,
the music collection of the Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek contains several sets of
parts for keyboard concertos by Emanuel Aloys Fbrster.9 Many of these parts are in
Forster’s own hand, and most appear to have been intended for use in performances or
perhaps for use as Vorlagen for sets intended for sale or performance. They are, at any
8 See Klaus Hortschansky, “Autographe Stimmen zu Mozarts Klavierkonzert KV
175 im Archiv Andre zu Offenbach,” in Mozart-Jahrbuch 1989/90 (Kassel: Barenreiter,
1990), 37-53.
9 On Forster, see my “Recent Discoveries,” 55-59. The parts for Forster’s
concertos in the Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek apparently derive from his estate.
Where title pages survive, they are in Forster’s own hand, and they often include
Fdrster’s initials “E. A. F.” in the lower right-hand comer. CZ-KRa preserves complete
sets of non-autograph parts for several of Forster’s concertos that survive only in
incomplete sets in the Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek.
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rate, not compositional manuscripts, except perhaps in the sense mentioned above in
regard to Mozart’s parts for K. 415 and K. 175. Like Mozart, FOrster also copied the
works of other composers. The Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek preserves a keyboard
part in FOrster’s hand for Mozart’s piano concerto K. 271, as well as an incomplete first
violin part in Fdrster’s hand for K. 175.1 0 Although we do not know the purpose of
these parts, we can speculate that Fdrster made them for performance or study.
The foregoing discussion helps to clarify our intuitive notion of the meaning of the
words “copy” and “copyist,” but it also makes clear that these words, when used in these
ways, may exclude certain instances of handwriting that any study of musical manuscripts
should surely take into account Some manuscripts (including most of Mozart’s
“autographs”) that are written principally by a single hand (such as that of a composer or
copyist) often contain marks, or even entire pages, passages, or lines written by hands
other than the principal one. Such interventions may be limited to minor modifications or
additions, such as the insertion of individual clefs, accidentals, or corrected notes, or they
may be much more extensive. In some cases, even an entire manuscript may have been
prepared by multiple hands (as is the case, for example, with the “autographs” of
Mozart’s arrangements of Handel’s oratorios). Some o f Mozart’s autographs contain
attempts by other hands to complete pieces that Mozart left unfinished. Although these
1 0 The keyboard part for K. 271 is catalogued under the shelf mark S. m. 1252.
The part is missing at least two of its outer bifolia and was, when I examined it, still
catalogued as a concerto by FOrster. That it is a copy o f K. 271 was first recognized by
Rey M. Longyear; see his “Echte und unterschobene FOrsteriana,” Die Musikforschung
28 (1975): 299. Its identity was independently recognized by Philip Whitmore; see his
“Eine unbeachtete Quelle zu Mozarts Klavierkonzert KV 271,” MitteUungen der
intemationalen Stiftung Mozarteum 29, nos. 3-4 (1981): 41-42. Whitmore thinks it
unlikely that FOrster copied the part from any of the editions of the concerto available at
that time.
The part in FOrster’s hand for K. 175 (one of several loose pages catalogued under
A-Wn, S. m. 1260) was first identified in my “Recent Discoveries,” 64-65, n. 34. The
surviving pages include the end of the first movement and the opening of the second.
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completions are not “copies” in any sense, we may need nevertheless to study the
handwritings in them in order to determine who made the additions and when.
Although these marks, entries, or insertions were not made by the composer or the
original copyist, we would nevertheless usually like to know who made them. Quite
often we would also like to know whether the writers who made the marks can be
regarded as having had any authority—in other words, whether their readings or
alterations are likely to be ones that we want to take into account in our performances or
editions.
Three recently discovered Mozart attributions provide a case in point. The
collection of the Staats- und Universitatsbibliothek Hamburg Carl von Ossietzky
preserves a full score of Der Stein der Weisen, a Viennese Singspiel first performed in the
Theater auf der Wieden in September 1790, at which time it was billed as a collaboration
among the composers Johann Baptist Henneberg, Benedikt Schack, Franz Xaver Gerl,
Emanuel Schikaneder, and M ozart1 1 A duet in the second ac t “Nun liebes Weibchen,”
(K. 625/592a) has long been attributed, with reservations, to M ozart largely because of
the existence of an “autograph.” This autograph is, however, not entirely in Mozart’s
hand, and its status as evidence for Mozart’s authorship of the piece is disputed.1 2
David J. Buch has discovered that the Hamburg score of Der Stein der
Weisen contains handwritten attributions to M ozart not just at the beginning o f “Nun
liebes Weibchen,” where one might expect to find them, but also at the beginning of two
extended sections of the second-act finale. These attributions were previously unknown.
1 1 See David J. Buch, “Mozart and the Theater auf der Wieden: New Attributions
and Perspectives,” Cambridge Opera Journal 9, no. 3 (1997): 195-232.
1 2 On this manuscript see David J. Buch, “On Mozart’s Partial Autograph of the
Duet ‘Nun, liebes Weibchen,’ K. 625/592a,” Journal o f the Royal Musical Association
124 (1999): 53-85.
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and, if the sections to which they refer are in fact by Mozart, they would be the only
completely “new” (that is, previously unknown) mature works by him discovered in the
twentieth century.
My examination of the copyists and paper-types1 3 in the Hamburg score has shown
that it was produced in the copy shop of the Theater auf der Wieden, under the direction
of a “Herr Weifi” (probably Kaspar Weifi), probably in the mid-1790s (for a more
detailed discussion of this score and its attributions see Chapter 10). That the score
comes from a theater with which Mozart had close ties, and that it was apparently
produced shortly after his death, suggests that the attributions in it ought to be taken
seriously. Therefore, it becomes all the more pressing to attempt to determine who wrote
them. Were they written into the score by someone connected with the theater, perhaps
by one of the copyists of the score? (As we shall see in Chapter 10, this is the most likely
explanation.) If so, he or she may have been in a position to know who composed which
items, and his or her attributions will consequently carry a good deal of w eight Perhaps
this person copied from a Vorlage in which the composers of the individual items were
identified. Perhaps this Vorlage may have been the Theater auf der Wieden’s own
working copy of the score.
On the other hand, it is possible that the attributions were added by someone who
had no special knowledge of the Singspiel or its early performances, and it may be that
the attributions were added at some other time and in some other place (say, for example,
in Hamburg). Perhaps the attributions were whimsical, or were pure guesswork. In that
case, they would carry much less weight We must also allow for the possibility that
many or most of the numbers in the opera were collaborative efforts. If the numbers are
1 3 A “paper-type” is a combination of a particular watermark with a particular staff
ruling; for a more detailed discussion of this concept see C hpt 3.
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collaborative, the notions of authorship and attribution become considerably more
complicated.
The physical evidence that can currently be brought to bear on the question of the
authenticity o f the attributions in the Hamburg score consists mainly of the handwritings
in the score itself and handwritings in other contemporaneous manuscripts with which
these may be compared. As I shall show in Chapter 10, a strong case can be made that all
of the attributions in the Hamburg score o f D er Stem der Weisen were written down by
a single hand, and that this hand belonged to one o f the principal copyists of the score.1 4
If this argument is correct, it may be seen as lending persuasive circumstantial support to
Mozart’s authorship—which cannot, however, be regarded as proven on those grounds
alone.
Manuscripts identified as autographs may often be complex, layered objects, written
down by more than one hand. Wolfgang Plath was able to show, for example, that
several early Mozart “autographs” were in fact written partly by Wolfgang and partly by
Leopold.1 3 The “autograph” of the Symphony in E-flat, K. 184, was written by
Leopold, Wolfgang, and a copyist: the first two pages of the first movement are in
Leopold’s hand, the rest of the first movement is in the hand of a Salzburg copyist, and
the remainder o f the symphony, from the beginning o f the second movement, is in
Wolfgang’s hand.1 6
1 4 On these attributions, see also David J. Buch, “ Der Stein der Weisen, Mozart,
and Collaborative Singspiels at Emanuel Schikaneder’s Theater auf der Wieden,” in
Mozart-Jahrbuch (forthcoming).
1 3 See Wolfgang Plath, “Beitr&ge zur Mozart-Autographie I. Die Handschrift
Leopold Mozarts,” in Mozart-Jahrbuch 1960/61 (Salzburg, 1961), 82-118.
1 6 See Plath, op. cit., 105, and also the entry for K. 184 (161a) in K6.
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Such “mixed” autographs occur even among Mozart’s later works. Consider, for
example, the original score of Mozart’s arrangement of Handel’s Messiah (K. 572). An
“autograph” score of this arrangement survives only for Part 3 o f the oratorio.1 7 One
hesitates to call it an “autograph,” because the first layer of handwriting in the score is not
Mozart’s, but rather that of two copyists. These copyists wrote out Handel’s original
parts for solo voice, chorus, and strings, as well as (apparently) adding dynamics, slurs,
dots, and trills; these copyists are thought to have based their text on the 1767 Randall and
Abell edition of Messiah.™ Andreas Holschneider, the editor of Mozart’s arrangement of
Messiah for the Neue Mozart-Ausgabe, has called this original level of the score the
“Grundpartitur.” Both of the copyists of the Grundpartitur of Mozart’s arrangement also
turn up in other important Viennese Mozart manuscripts, including some, like Messiah,
associated with Baron Gottfried van Swieten. The copyists of this first layer omitted
Handel’s wind parts and most of the figured bass. Later additions to the score by other
hands include newly composed wind parts and other new material in Mozart’s hand,
Mozart’s notes to the copyists, corrections o f various kinds, and a German text and
figuration in the hand of Swieten.
The Messiah arrangement poses conceptual difficulties. Is it a “work” by Mozart?
K&chel clearly thought so, since he gave it a number in the grand chronological sequence
of Mozart’s works, a number that has been retained throughout all subsequent editions of
the Kfichel catalogue. The Neue Mozart-Ausgabe, in contrast, places Mozart’s Messiah,
1 7 CZ-Pnm, Lobkowitz Archive, X.B.b.4. The following description o f the score
is based largely on NMA, X/28/1/2, Der Messias, critical report (Andreas Holschneider),
9-19.
1 8 Gatherings I-IV and VI-X are in the hand of a single copyist, whom I call
Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1; see Chpt. 6. Gathering V was, according to Holschneider
(op. cit., 18), inserted later. It is in the hand o f the second copyist, who was also
apparendy the principal copyist of the “autograph” of Mozart’s arrangement of Handel’s
Alexander's Feast (K. 591).
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along with his other Handel arrangements, in Werkgruppe 28: “Arrangements,
Completions, and Transcriptions o f Works by Others.”1 9 This makes good sense, since
the arrangement is not, by any definition, a fully original work by M ozart However,
Mozart’s Handel arrangements were also omitted almost entirely from Alan Tyson’s
catalogue o f the watermarks in Mozart’s autographs, presumably because they were not
regarded as original works, and thus not real “autographs.” This omission seems rather
more difficult to defend, since the manuscript is, at least in part in Mozart’s handwriting,
and the paper upon which it is written is datable and therefore surely o f interest to
scholars on those grounds alone.2 0 The editors of the Neue Mozart-Ausgabe may have
reasoned that the paper probably did not “belong” to M ozart in that he did not purchase it
or otherwise acquire it for his own use, and that it ought therefore to be excluded from the
catalogue. However, their application of this “rule” was inconsistent: the catalogue
includes several other manuscripts written on paper-types that almost certainly did not
“belong” to Mozart in any sense, some of them primarily or completely written in the
hand of someone else.2 1
1 9 “Bearbeitungen, ErgSnzungen und Obertragungen ffemder Werke.”
2 0 Tyson, Wasserzeichen-Katalog. Only ff. 33 and 51 of the “autograph” of
Mozart’s arrangement of Messiah are included in Tyson’s catalogue (under watermark
97), presumably because these two leaves are the only ones in the manuscript that are
entirely in Mozart’s hand. However, Tyson does refer in a more general way to the
paper-types in the “autographs” o f Mozart’s arrangements o f Messiah and Alexander’ s
Feast in his “New Light on Mozart’s ‘Prussian’ Quartets,” in Mozart: Studies o f the
Autograph Scores (Cambridge, Mass. and London: Harvard University Press, 1987), 36-
47, here 44; this article was first published in The Musical Times 116 (1975): 126-30.
Thus one assumes that Tyson made a comprehensive investigation of the paper-types of
these two manuscripts, and that the omission of this information from the Wasserzeichen-
Katalog must have been intentional. I shall have more to say about Tyson’s watermark
catalogue and Mozart’s acquisition o f music paper in Chpt. 3.
2 1 For example, under the listings for watermark 66 in Tyson’s Wasserzeichen-
Katalog, one finds an entry for a manuscript in the hand of Mozart’s sister, Maria Anna,
of cadenzas and embellishments for the Piano Concerto in D, K. 451. The paper in this
manuscript is ruled with ten staves, with a “total span” of 185 .5 mm (the total span is the
distance between the top line of the top staff and the bottom line of the bottom staff; for
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6 3
Such terms as “copy,” “part,” “set of parts,” “score,” “autograph,” and even
“source” and “manuscript” are abstract designations for objects that are very often
complex aggregations o f simpler objects, which may themselves consist of layers of
entries by different hands. Thus these terms and similar ones, if used carelessly, may
falsely be taken to imply that the object or objects to which they refer are coherent, stable,
and historically continuous wholes. (The same point applies, o f course, to such German
terms as “Abschrift,” “Kopie,” and “Quelle,” and to corresponding terms in other
languages.) One may easily—but often wrongly—assume, for example, that a group of
manuscript parts, presently catalogued in a library or archive under a single shelf marie, is
a historically unified “s e t” In fact, one commonly hears or reads statements of the
general form “the copy o f Work X in Archive Y" or “the set o f parts for Work X in
Collection Y." Yet such present-day groupings of manuscript parts may be (and careful
more on this concept, see C hpt 3). No paper with this watermark and staff ruling
appears in any Mozart autograph. Maria Anna almost certainly acquired this paper in
Salzburg, and Mozart probably never had any of it in his possession. The catalogue also
lists the so-called “dedication copy” of Mozart’s Piano Sonata in C minor, K. 457. This
manuscript bears an autograph dedication and a few corrections and additions in Mozart’s
hand, but is otherwise entirely in the hand of the copyist I shall refer to as Viennese
Mozart-Copyist 1, who also happens to be one of the copyists o f the Grundpartitur of
Mozart’s Messiah (see ChpL 6). The paper-type upon which this manuscript is written
includes a watermark (Tyson 84) found in the autograph o f the Piano Concerto in C
minor, K. 491, but the staff ruling is completely different: the manuscript of K. 457 is
ruled with eight staves, with a total span of around 177 mm, whereas the paper in the
autograph of K. 491 is ruled with sixteen staves. The paper-type o f the copyist score o f
K. 457 appears in none o f Mozart’s known autographs. At least three of the paper-types
in the so-called “Atwood” Studies, K. 506a, appear nowhere else in Mozart’s autographs
(see the entries in the Tyson catalogue for watermark 67, the type ruled with 10 staves;
watermark 74, the type ruled with 12 staves with a total span o f around 188 mm; and
watermark 83, which appears in no other Mozart autograph). One supposes that Mozart
is unlikely to have bought music paper for his student Another paper-type—watermark
74 in Tyson’s catalogue, ruled with 10 staves—appears in eight leaves of the Atwood
Studies and in the autograph o f Mozart’s lied Als Luise die Briefe ihres ungetreuen
Uebhabem verbrannte, K. 520, which is written on a single leaf. In this case, one
wonders whether M ozart perhaps borrowed the single leaf from his student
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analysis shows that they quite often are) conflations o f parts written down by different
people at different tunes for different purposes.2 2
It perhaps seems obvious that the present state o f a manuscript may not be an
accurate representation o f the earlier states of its constituent parts, but the point is often
overlooked by scholars. For example, in Chapter 8 1 shall consider a so-called “set” of
parts for M ozart’s aria K. 416 (“Mia speranza adorata. . . Ah, non sai, qual pena sia”),
which are thought to derive from Mozart’s “estate” (a term which, as we shall see, is also
problematic). This “set” will be shown, however, to be a conflation of at least three
originally separate sets of parts created at different times, by different copyists, on
different paper-types, possibly for different purposes. Yet Stefan Kunze, the editor of the
aria for the Neue Mozart-Ausgabe, assumed that the parts constituted a single set, and that
these were M ozart’s own performing parts. On the basis of this assumption he drew
inferences (which are unlikely to be valid) about the probable size of the accompanying
orchestra in performances of this aria at Mozart’s own concerts. As we shall see, it will
be necessary to reconsider each set separately when considering the performances for
which that particular set may have been created and its status as a possible element of
Mozart’s “estate.”
One needs to remember, too, that it was extremely common in the eighteenth
century for additional parts (duplicate strings, extra winds, parts for trumpets and
timpani, and so on) to be added to a pre-existing “set” at some later time by someone
unconnected with the persons whose handwritings appear in the original se t The current
221 give an analysis of one such case, o f parts for a keyboard concerto in C major
by Leopold Hofmann, in my “Manuscript Parts as Evidence of Orchestral Size in the
Eighteenth-Century Viennese Concerto,” in M ozart’ s Piano Concertos: Text, Context,
Interpretation, ed. Neal Zaslaw (Ann A rbor University of Michigan Press, 1996), 436-
37.
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65
state of manuscript materials in an archive or library cannot, therefore, necessarily be
taken to imply that these materials have always been in this state since the time of their
creation. This same observation may likewise be made about individual pages of
a manuscript score or part: as I shall show in Chapter 8, some pages inserted into
Mozart’s autograph scores were apparently copied and added to the autographs when his
musical estate was put in order during the decade following his death. In fact, many of
the manuscript sources that I shall discuss in this dissertation are complex assemblages of
layers written in different hands at different times on different paper-types. It is one of
the principal tasks of the scholar examining a manuscript to distinguish and separate these
layers.
The word “copyist” (and its German cognate, “Kopist”) literally means “a person
who copies.” In writing about music, the word tends to be used, although not
exclusively, to refer to someone who copies or copied music professionally. In this
sense, “copyist” is an occupational category corresponding to the German
“Notenschreiber,” a word often found in eighteenth-century Viennese documents to
designate a person’s profession (see Table 2.1). Related words include
“Musikalienschreiber,” “Musikkopist,” and occasionally simply “Kopist” (which,
however, may also have referred simply to someone who copied verbal texts, such as the
copyist of role books for actors in a theater or the copyists of official documents). Mozart
and his father generally used the term “Copist” in their correspondence to refer to music
copyists.
Of these terms, “Notenschreiber” seems to have been the most common. Not
surprisingly, the word appears in a dictionary published in Vienna around 1800, where it
is said to refer to:
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66
. . . deijenige, welcher musikalische Noten schreibet, und in engerer
Bedeutung, welcher ein Geschdft daraus macht, Noten abzuschreiben,
und welcher auch wohl der Notist genannt wird.
. . . a person who writes musical notes, and in a more narrow meaning,
who makes a business out of copying notes, and who also [may be]
called “der N otist”2 3
However, it is evident that not all surviving secondary musical manuscripts from
the eighteenth century were written down by professional copyists. In Vienna, music
copied by professionals tends to be characterized by a sureness and fluidity in the
handling of quill and ink, by a consistency and clarity in the formation o f musical notation
(even when the notation is inaccurate), and by a well-planned and expansive layout, all of
which contribute to ease of reading (these characteristics are not necessarily found in
professional copies created elsewhere). Because of their expansive layout, professional
Viennese copies are also often characterized by a relatively large number o f pages, an
important consideration for professional copyists, who were paid by the “Bogen,” or
bifolium. A musical manuscript that lacks these characteristics, which shows, for
example, a tentativeness or lack of consistency in the formation of musical symbols, may
have been written down by an “amateur”—that is, by someone who did not write down
music for a living.
Instead of “copyist,” one might adopt the neutral German term “Schreiber,”
meaning simply “a person writing” or “a person who writes,” without the strong
occupational implications of “copyist” or “Kopist.” The closest English equivalent to
“Schreiber” in a musical context is “scribe,” but “scribe” seems unsatisfactory in an
eighteenth-century setting, suggesting, as it does, medieval monks hunched over desks in
2 3 Johann Christoph Adelung, Grammatisch=krinsches Worterbuch der
Hochdeutschen M undart. . . M it W. Soltau’ s Beytragen, revidirt undberichtiget von
Franz Xaver Schonberger [title from vol. 2], 9th ed. (Vienna, 1807-8), vol. 2, col. 524.
I have not found the term “Notist” in any 18th-century Viennese documents.
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67
scriptoria. Perhaps the best solution, then, is to retain the term “copyist,” with the caveat
that we take care to avoid unintended assumptions o f professionalism.
I shall distinguish in this dissertation between “handwritings” and “hands.’ 1 2 4
When we speak of “a copyist,” we imagine that we are referring to a particular individual,
although we may not be able to identify that individual by name o r to say anything precise
about his or her life. We cannot assume, however, that a particular copyist always wrote
with a single, readily identifiable musical handwriting (although, fortunately for the
scholar attempting to identify them, many did so most of the time). Instead, I shall speak
of individual “handwritings” in particular manuscripts, which I shall then attempt—based
on shared characteristics and a lack of unexplained dissimilarities— to group together with
other handwritings in other manuscripts, in order to construct a hypothetical picture of the
hand or script of a single individual. Here the word “hand” (as opposed to
“handwriting”) will be taken to refer to the characteristic style of writing of a particular
individual (usually, but not always, a “copyist”). An individual may have more than one
characteristic style of writing, and the characteristic style or styles o f an individual may
change over time.2 5 This distinction of “handwriting” and “hand” will, as it turns out,
2 4 D. C. Greetham makes a distinction between “hand” and “script,” suggesting that
“hand” should be restricted to a specific scribe, and “script” to “a style of writing
identifiable in a particular place or period”; see Greetham, Textual Scholarship: An
Introduction (New York and London: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1994), 172. Greetham’s
“script” is roughly equivalent to the term “system” as used by those engaged in the
forensic examination of handwriting (see the discussion o f handwriting identification in
Chpt. 3).
2 5 See, for example, Konrad’s discussion of Mozart’s “public” and “private” hands,
in Mozarts Schaffensweise, 346 and ff. Wolfgang Plath discusses the three principal
styles of Leopold Mozart’s musical handwriting in “BeitrSge zur Mozart-Autographie I.,”
86-87 and plates I-VI. Plath identifies these styles as “Kalligraphie,” “normale
Gebrauchsschrift” or “Normalschrift,” and “fliichtige Skizzen- oder Konzeptschrift” See
also Cliff Eisen, “The M ozarts’ Salzburg Copyists: Aspects of Attribution, Chronology,
Text, Style, and Performance Practice,” in Mozart Studies, ed. C liff Eisen (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1991), 253-307, esp. the discussion on 259-65 o f the change over time
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68
lead me to adopt a dual system o f naming or numbering, one for anonymous
handwritings, and one for anonymous hands (the “copyists”).
Throughout this dissertation I shall generally use the word “copy” as a shorthand
for “manuscript copy,” although, in English, the word could ju st as well be used to refer
to a piece o f printed music. The German term “Abschrift” is more precise in this regard,
implying both “writing” (“Schrift”) and basis on a model (the prefix “ab-” being derived
from the preposition meaning “from”).2 6 I shall generally translate “Abschrift” as “copy”
or “manuscript copy.” However, in the correspondence of the Mozart family, the related
verb “abschreiben” often means “to copy out in parts," and I shall translate it in this way
when the meaning is clear. As we have seen, it is essential to remember that a copy or
manuscript may be an aggregation o f formerly separate objects, each with its own history.
I shall use the term “autograph” to refer to any manuscript or portion o f a manuscript in
Mozart’s hand, whether or not that manuscript is in any sense a composing manuscript
I shall sometimes use the term “original” to refer to primary composing manuscripts.
It is not unusual to encounter such terms as “copy shop,” “copying firm,” and the
like in the scholarly literature on eighteenth-century Viennese music. In most cases,
however, these terms are merely convenient fictions—for we in fact know practically
nothing about the working arrangements of professional copyists in Vienna, even for
those, such as Lorenz Lausch, Wenzel Sukowaty, and Johann Traeg, who advertised
their wares in local newspapers, listing addresses where music could be ordered or picked
in the hand of Joseph Richard Estlinger, one of the Mozart family’s most frequently used
Salzburg copyists.
2 6 James Grier uses the term “apograph,” which is based on Greek roots that are
precisely equivalent to “Abschrift”; see Grier, The Critical Editing o f Music: History,
Method, ami Practice (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 114 and passim.
However, he seems to use “apograph” only in reference to “authentic” manuscripts
prepared by a professional copyist This meaning seems unduly restrictive for our
purposes here.
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up. Furthermore, there is no justification for assuming, even in those three cases, that the
copying itself was done in a central location, a “shop.” The heads of these enterprises
may well have contracted out work to individual copyists who worked at home or in some
other location. (The question o f where copying was done will be considered in more
detail later on in this chapter.) With these caveats in mind, I shall, however, continue as
a convenience to use the word “shop” to refer to well-established copying enterprises,
such as those of Lausch, Sukowaty, and Traeg.
Finally, I shall have occasion in this study to call into question even such
fundamental and familiar terms as “composer” and “work.” Particularly for complex
musical productions, such as operas, the notions of a single creator and of a single,
unchanging text, “intended” by the composer to have a certain precisely defined state, do
not bear close scrutiny. All art objects are, to a greater or lesser extent, collaborative
efforts: a piece of music, even a simple one, depends not only on the person who
imagines or creates the notes, but also on performers, the owners of venues for
performance, the producers of music paper, pens, and inks (or, more recently, of
software for music notation), copyists and publishers, and so on.2 7 Vocal music depends
not only on the composer (or composers) of the music, but also on the writers of the
texts. Performers may actually create (and be expected to create) portions of the musical
text, through improvisation or embellishment In the case o f complex works, such as
operas or musical comedies, decisions about cuts and other large scale revisions may be
made coUaborativeiy by the composer, the librettist the stage director, and other persons
2 7 The ideas expressed in this paragraph are indebted to Howard S. Becker, Art
Worlds (Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press, 1982); see also
Samuel Gilmore, “Art Worlds: Developing the Interactionist Approach to Social
Organization,” in Symbolic Interaction and Cultural Studies, ed. Howard S. Becker and
Michal M. McCall (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1990).
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responsible for the production as a whole. We should not let the seductive mythology of
iconic works and great composers blind us to the real-life complexities of the objects we
are studying.
Why were copies created?
Music is normally written down for a particular reason. A manuscript’s intended
use determines its format, provides a context for the interpretation of its notation, and
gives clues to its place in the network of transmission. The possible uses of manuscripts,
whether originals or copies, will be considered in more detail in Chapter 4 with particular
reference to M ozart Here it is sufficient to make the following observations.
Musical autographs may be created for several reasons. An autograph may be
a compositional sketch or a draft—that is, a private manuscript intended by the composer
as an intermediate stage in the work’s creation, and not intended for public distribution or
performance.2 8 Other originals or autographs may, on the other hand, have been intended
for use in performance. The autographs of many of Schubert’s lieder, for example, were
probably used by him in performance. Other originals or autographs may have been
intended as Vorlagen for copyists or engravers—that is, as models for reproduction.
I shall argue here that a majority o f Mozart’s finished autograph scores should be
interpreted as Vorlagen.
Manuscript reproductions (copies) may likewise be created for a variety of uses.
They may be intended for performance, for sale, as gifts or presentation copies, for
2 8 The distinction of “private” and “public” manuscripts is fundamental to Konrad’s
classification of M ozart’s autographs; see Mozarts Schaffensweise, esp. Chpt. 3,341 and
passim. Mozart’s sketches are written in a “private” handwriting that was not intended to
be interpreted by others, whereas his completed scores and fragments were written in
a “public” handwriting that was intended to be interpreted by others (mainly copyists).
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71
study, or as archival copies.2 9 Mozart’s autograph copy of the Ligniville “Stabat mater”
was probably intended for study, whereas his autograph parts for K. 175 and K. 414
were likely intended for performance.
One also needs to be alert to the possibility of generic differentiation in the patterns
of creation, use, and distribution of manuscript copies. For example, it seems reasonable
to suppose that works of public instrumental music, such as symphonies or concertos,
were not copied or distributed in the same way or for the same reasons as were operas,
solo keyboard music, or sacred music.
A manuscript may itself give clues to its intended use. Eighteenth-century
performing parts often (but not invariably) show signs o f use: the corners of the pages
may appear dog-eared and fingerprinted (although this may, of course, be the result of
handling by generations of grubby-fingered scholars); they may include corrections, cuts,
and other performance markings in pencil or crayon; they may be decorated with the
“graffiti” o f bored performers (drawings, jokes, notes to a stand partner, or annotations
of the date or location of performances); and, not infrequently, the pages may carry wax
drips, from the candles used on eighteenth- and nineteenth-century music desks.
2 9 Charles Hamm has made a similar point about musical manuscripts from the
Renaissance, in his “Interrelationships between Manuscript and Printed Sources of
Polyphonic Music in the Early Sixteenth Century: An Overview,” in Quellenstudien zur
Musik der Renaissance. II: Datierung und Filiation von Musikhandschriften der Josquin-
Zeit, ed. Ludwig Finscher, WolfenbUtteler Forschungen (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz,
1983), 1-13, here esp. 1-2. He divides manuscripts written by copyists into the
following categories: I) presentation manuscripts, 2) anthologies or repositories,
3) manuscripts copied for the use of an individual (not usually intended for
performance), 4) illustrations for theoretical treatises, 5) student notebooks, and
6) performing manuscripts.
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Who copied?
Relatively little is known about the individuals who copied music in Vienna in the
second half of the eighteenth century. Few names can be reliably connected with
identifiable hands. Almost nothing is known about the conditions under which
professional music copyists worked—we do not understand, in fact, what sort of
“profession” copying may have been. Were there professional associations, such as
guilds or brotherhoods? Were there systems of professional training and qualification?
Were there special laws, regulations, and taxes relating to music copying? At this point,
we simply do not know.3 0
Documentary sources dealing with music copying and copyists in Vienna in the
eighteenth century are scarce. As we have seen in Chapter 1, the correspondence of the
Mozart family contains few references to Viennese copyists, and almost all references are
indirect or impersonal. In fact, no Viennese copyist is mentioned by name in any of the
known letters of the Mozart family written during Wolfgang’s lifetime.3 1
To be sure, somewhat more is known about the copyists who worked for Joseph
Haydn and Beethoven. Several of Haydn’s copyists are known by name, including,
most importantly, the ElBlers (Joseph Sr. and Jr., and Johann), the prodigiously
productive Johann Schellinger, and Peter Rampl (formerly known as Anonymous 63).3 2
3 0 For an enlightening discussion of the role of music copyists in the distribution of
music in Italy in the late 18th century, see Bianca Maria Antolini, “Editori, copisti,
commercio della musica in Italia, 1770-1800,” Studi musicali 18 (1989): 273-375, esp.
351-57, “Aspetti della circolazione della musica manoscritta.”
3 1 As we shall see in Chpt. 7, Johann Traeg is mentioned several times in
Constanze Mozart’s letters of the late 1790s and early 1800s. However, her letters refer
only to Traeg’s activities as an agent or music dealer, not specifically as a copyist.
3 2 On the ElBlers, see Horst Walter, “Elssler,” New Grove, vol. 6, 145-46, and the
references listed there; on Joseph ElBler Sen., see also Robert von Zahn, “Der fiirstlich
Esterhazysche Notenkopist Joseph ElBler Sen.,” Haydn-Studien 6, no. 2 (1988): 130-47.
On Schellinger, see Denes Bartha and Laszld Somfai, Haydn als Opemkapellmeister: Die
Haydn-Dokumente der Esterhdzy-Opemsammlung (Budapest: Verlag der ungarischen
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73
Stephen C. Fisher has made a persuasive case, based on receipts preserved in the
Oettingen-WaUerstein archive, that the copyist commonly known to Haydn scholars as
Viennese Professional No. 2 can be identified as the Viennese double bassist Friedrich
Pischelberger.3 3 This is the same Pischelberger for whom Mozart in 1791 composed the
double-bass solo in the aria “Per questa bella mano,” K. 612. Other named Viennese
copyists whose hands appear in manuscript copies of Haydn’s music and can confidently
be identified include Johann Radnitzky, Johann Schmutzer, and (perhaps with somewhat
less confidence) Franz Xaver Riersch and Johann Weiss.3 4 However, even in the cases
where hands and names can be linked, we know very little about the persons to whom the
hands belonged or the conditions of their lives and careers.
The principal Viennese archival and documentary sources containing information
about eighteenth-century Viennese music copyists are: (1) records of baptisms,
marriages, and deaths; (2) advertisements in Viennese and regional newspapers;
(3) account books and similar financial documents; and (4) invoices and receipts from the
copyists themselves. So far, very few business records, city tax records, or similar
documents have been discovered that refer to eighteenth-century Viennese copyists.
Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1960), esp. 407-10. On Rampl, see GUnter Thomas,
“Haydn’s Copyist Peter Rampl,” in Haydn, Mozart, & Beethoven: Studies in the Music
o f the Classical Period. Essays in Honour o f Alan Tyson, ed. Sieghard Brandenburg
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), 85-90, and also the discussion below in Chpt. 8.
3 3 Stephen C. Fisher, “Haydn’s Overtures and Their Adaptations as Concert
Orchestral Works” (Ph.D. diss.. University of Pennsylvania, 1985), Appendix C, “Five
Groups of Viennese Hands in the Former Oettingen-Wallerstein Collection,” esp. 459-68.
3 4 On Schmutzer, Riersch, and Weiss, see Fisher, “Haydn’s Overtures,”
Appendix C. Fisher includes relatively little information about Riersch. I have found
that Riersch’s name appears often in Viennese court payment records from as early as the
mid-1750s. His death at age 52 is recorded in the Viennese Totenbeschauprotokoll on
4 Mar 1780, the day after die record of the death of his wife Margareta. Iff Riersch’s age
is given correcdy in the Totenbeschauprotokoll, he would have been bom in 1727 or
1728; see the listing under “Riersch” in Table 2.1.
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However, no scholar up to this point has attempted to look for such documents, so it is
entirely possible that some may come to light in the future.3 5
Among the richest documentary sources for the names, backgrounds, addresses,
and dates of Viennese music copyists are the volumes of the Viennese
Totenbeschauprotokoll. These large volumes, now in the Wiener Stadt- und
Landesarchiv, serve as a registry of all bodies that were inspected by the Viennese
municipal authorities. The entries in the Totenbeschauprotokoll are analogous to modem
death certificates prepared by a coroner.3 6 Entries give the name of the deceased
(including, for an infant or an unmarried child living at home, the name of the father, or
for a married woman, the name of the husband) and his or her profession, his or her
religion (if this was other than Catholic), the date on which the body was examined, the
address (presumably the address where the body was found, although this was very often
the dead person’s home), and the deceased person’s age and sometimes his or her place
of birth—noting, for example, that he or she originally came from, say, Regensburg or
Moravia. The cause of death is usually also listed, along with the name or initials of the
official making the entry. As an example, consider the record of the death of Mozart’s
first child, Raimund, on 19 August 1783:
Mozart H[err] N: [ric] Musiko, sein Kind Reimund, ist
zum rothen Pfauen N:° 250 am ober Neu„
sdft an d[er] Gedhrmfrais beschaut word[en]
alt 9 Wochen L: Z:
3 5 Documents pertaining to Traeg’s music-copying business are preserved in
WStLA, Merkantilgericht, Akten, Fasz. 3,1. Reihe. These documents were first brought
to my attention by Rupert Ridgewell. Michael Lorenz has provided me with additional
information, but I have by and large not been able to take the documents into account in
this dissertation.
3 6 The Totenbeschauprotokoll does not contain the names of the victims of crimes
(whose bodies were examined by the police), and infectious bodies were not examined.
I am grateful to Michael Lorenz for this clarification.
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75
Herr N. Mozart, musician, his child Raimund, aged 9 weeks, was
inspected at the Red Peacock, No. 250 in Ober Neustift, [death] from
intestinal spasms. L. Z.3 7
Hannelore Gericke, in her essential study of the Viennese music trade from 1700 to
1778, has listed twenty-three names for which the Totenbeschauprotokoll gives the
occupational designation “Notenschreiber” (or some similar term, such as
“Notenkopist”).3 8 Table 2.1 is a first attempt at a similar list of music copyists and
dealers whose names appear in the Totenbeschauprotokoll from 1775 to 1800.3 9
Table 2.1 should be regarded as a work in progress. Nevertheless, certain patterns
are already clear. Of the thirty-two names in Table 2.1, most are described at least once in
the Totenbeschauprotokoll as music copyists.4 0 The term most often used there is
“Notenschreiber” or “Nottenschreiber.” Leopold Klucky is once described as
a “Musikalienschreiber,” Franz Anton Steiner is called a “Musikkopist,” and Michael
3 7 WStLA, Totenbeschauprotokoll, 19 Aug 1783. This document is not transcribed
(although it is referred to) in Deutsch, Dokumente. The initials “L: Z:” refer to the
inspector Lorenz Zeiner.
3 8 Hannelore Gericke, Der Wiener Musikalienhandel von 1700 bis 1778, Wiener
Musikwissenschaftliche BeitrSge, ed. Erich Schenk, vol. 5 (Graz and Cologne: Hermann
BOhlaus Nachf., 1960), 99-109.
3 9 The outline of Table 2.1 was originally derived from digests, made by the
Viennese historian Gustav Gugitz, of entries in the Viennese Totenbeschauprotokoll for
persons who were involved in Viennese cultural life (broadly defined), including
composers, musicians, music copyists, and music dealers (WStLA, “AuszUge aus dem
Totenbeschauprotokoll 18. Jahrhundert,” typescript, n. d.). Many but not all of these
entries have subsequently been checked and supplemented by a direct inspection of the
original entries in the Totenbeschauprotokoll and the official estate inventories (the
Verlassenschaftsakten). Much of this subsequent work has been done by Michael
Lorenz, to whom I am extremely grateful.
4 0 It must be kept in mind during the following discussion of professional
terminology that my survey of the primary documents remains incomplete. Many of the
occupational designations in Table 2.1 are derived from Gugitz’s digests, which may alter
the designations given in the Totenbeschauprotokoll or elide variations among them. The
conclusions expressed here will be able to be refined considerably when it becomes
possible to make a thorough survey of the Totenbeschauprotokoll, the estate records, and
the records of baptisms and marriages, which often also include occupational
designations.
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76
Table 2.1
Music Copyists and Dealers Listed
in the Viennese Totenbeschauprotokoll, 1775-1800*
Variant spellings of last names are given in square brackets. The designation “Child"
indicates that a child of the named person has died. The child’s name, cause of death, and
age at the time of death are given where these are known. Diagnoses of cause of death are
given as they appear in the Totenbeschauprotokoll, without translation (e.g., “an der
Frais”). “Ditto” indicates that the address is the same as that for the previous entry. The
copyist’s surname followed by a date indicates his or her own date of death. The
copyist’s presumptive birth dates are given in those cases where the age at the time of
death is given in the records. References in parentheses to “WStLA, Mag. ZG” refer to
the “Sperrs-Relationen.”
Joseph Arthofer, “Notenschreiber,” “Kopist im Hoftheater,” “Balletkopist im k. k.
Hoftheater,” bom in 1741 or 1742, possibly in Amstetten in Niederosterreich. For
more on Arthofer, see Chpt. 5.
Child, Joseph, 31 August 1778, “an der Frais,” aged 30 hours, Stadt,
Kamtnerstrasse, Greif, 994
Child, Theresia, 5 January 1779, “Abzehrung,” aged 17 months, ditto
Child, Maria Anna, 7 February 1782, “Biattem,” aged l3 /4 years, Stadt, Neuer
Markt 1107
Child, Elisabeth, 14 March 1782, “Zahnfrais,” dittob
Child, Antonia, 2 April 1784, “Zahnfrais,” aged 11 months, ditto
Child, Josepha, 26 May 1785, ditto
Child, Franz, 25 August 1787, “Fraisen,” aged 7 months, ditto
Child, Anton, I December 1790, “an Biattem,” aged 2 [illegible], ditto
Child, Joseph, 19 May 1793, Stadt, Neuer Markt 1108
Arthofer, died 1 May 1807, “Lungensucht,” aged 65, Stadt, Neuer Markt 1123.
(WStLA, Mag. ZG, Fasz. 2-3328/1807)
Wife, Theresia, 13 February 1814, “Brustwassersucht,” aged 64, ditto
Wilhelm Balz, “Nottenschreiber,” Protestant, bom in Murhardt in Wurttemberg, 1763 or
1764
Died 7 October 1800, “an der Abzehr,” aged 36, Wieden 454, Freihaus
Sebastian Bliimmel [Bliemmel, Bliimel], “Nottenschreiber,” “Schreiber”
Child, Johann, 16 February 1771, “Darm FraB,” aged 16 weeks, “am Neubau bey
die 3 Laufer”
a For the basis of this table, see the discussion in the main text, n. 39.
b Arthofer’s daughter Elisabeth was baptized on 13 Sep 1781, and was therefore
6 months old at the time of her death.
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Table 2.1 (continued) 77
Child, Josepha, 14 May 1773, “an Steck,” aged l ‘ /2 years, “im Oller[ischen] HauB
zu Margarethen”
Child, Leopold, 13 September 1773, “Kindsblattem,” aged 6 months, ditto
Child, Franz, 10 October 1776, “Schwindsucht,” aged 7 months, Margareten 61,
“Im Haneckerfischen] Haus”
Child, Johann Nepomuk, 10 June 1777, “an Gedarmfrais,” [Neuwieden 213]
Child, Anna Crescentia, 27 June 1778, “Kopffrais,” aged 3 weeks, Margareten,
Gold Anker 59
Child, Thomas, 2 December 1780, “Gedarmfrais,” aged 3 days, Neuwieden 213
Child, Johann, 19 June 1782, “Steckfrais,” aged 2 hours, ditto
Child, Anna, 21 August 1785, aged 12 days, LandstraBe 183, “zieglmayerisch
Haus”
Child, Johann, 29 October 1785, “an der englischen Krankheit,” aged l3 /4 years,
ditto
Joseph Borsari, “Kopist im Komodienhaus,” “Theatral-Copist,” bom 1739 or 1740c
Child, Josepha Barbara, 16 September 1773, “an Steck-Catarrh,” aged l'/4 years,
“bey St. Anton Nr. 24 zu St. Ulrich”
Borsari, 31 August 1778, “Lunglsucht,” aged 38, resided at Josephstadt 16?, died
“Im Spani Spittalzimmer” (probably the infirmary of the Schwarzspanier)d
Johann Dreger, “MusikalienhUndler”'
Child, Amalia, 25 April 1784, aged 3 weeks, Neuwieden 61, Ziegeldeckerhaus
Johann Freeh, “Musikalienhandler”
Child, Friedrich, 21 June 1785, “Frais,” aged 3 weeks, Stadt, Hoher Markt 423,
Glaserisches Hausf
Joseph Gulden, “Notenschreiber,” “Musiker”
Child, Joseph, 2 April 1785, “Kopfrais,” aged 7 weeks, Spittelberg 92
Child, 11 December 1793, Josephstadt 59
Child, 21 June 1795, ditto
c On Borsari, see also Hannelore Gericke, Der Wiener Musikalienhandel von 1700
bis 1778, Wiener Musikwissenschaftliche Beitrage, ed. Erich Schenk, vol. 5 (Graz and
Cologne: Hermann Bohlaus Nachf., 1960), 103. According to Gericke, Borsari is listed
in the Gothaer Theaterkalender of 1776 as a “Musikkopist.”
d This date of death for Borsari is from the Totenbeschauprotokoll. Another source
gives I Sep 1778.
e Possibly Johann Traeg?
f Hoher Markt 423 was, in fact, the address of Johann Traeg at this time.
However, in spite of the similarity of “Freeh” and ‘ Traeg,” it appears that Freeh was
a different person.
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Table 2.1 (continued)
Child, 26 December 1798, Josephstadt 67
78
Wife, Katharina, 15 January 1820, No. 21 Stratzischengrund, 3 living children
(WstLA, Mag. ZG, Fasz. 2-1954/1820)
Ferdinand Haberzettel [Haberzotel], “Musiker,” “Musicus,” “Notenschreiber,” bom 1753
or 1754
Child, unbaptized, 25 February 1782, “an Brand,” Mariahilf 85
Child, 3 February 1787, St. Ulrich 14
Child, Wenzl, 22 May 1787, “Kopffrais,” aged 8 months, Mariahilf 63
Haberzettel, 20 September 1789, “Wassersucht,” aged 35, Altlerchenfeld 9, Drei
Tauben, “Siechenhaus”
(WStLA, Mag. ZG, Fasz. 2-3035/1789)
Michael [or Joseph] Hartmann, “Musikus,” “Notenschreiber,” bom 1727 or 1728s
Child, 28 February 1763, Ob. Neustift, Steinmetzhaus
Child, 27 July 1764, ditto, Gold. Glocke
Child, 9 May 1765, ditto
Child, 20 August 1767, ditto
Child, 6 June 1768, ditto, Ritter Georg
Child, Joseph, 9 July 1782, “Kopffrais,” aged 13 weeks, St. Ulrich 19
Hartmann, 7 December 1797, “Lungensucht,” widower, aged 69, resided
Obemeustift 6, then 171; died in the Allgemeines Krankenhaus
Simon Judas Thaddaus Hofmeister, “Musikalien Graveur ist zu Rottenburg am Neckar
gebOrtig,” died 11 July 1789 of “Lungensucht,” “im klein Sintzendorfischen Haus
N° 26 in der Herrengasse,” aged 30
Leopold Klucky, “Musikalienschreiber,” “Notenschreiber,” bom 1764 or 1765 in
“Stesamiskitz” in Moravia
Child, 13 March 1797
Child, 2 February 1799
Klucky, widower, died 12 June 1801, “Dampf,” aged 36, “beim Pilger N° 42 auf
der Laimgrube an der Wienn”
(WStLA, Mag. ZG, Fasz. 2-1425/1801)
Franz Kreibig [Kreibich], “lediger Notenschreiber” (i. e. unmarried music copyist), bom
1739 or 1740*1
Died, 17 October 1779, “Lungelsucht,” aged 39, No. 500, “Judengassel”
s Hartmann’s Sperrs-Relation gives his name as “Michael,” whereas the
Totenbeschauprotokoll gives “Joseph.”
h On Kreibig, see also Gericke, Der Wiener Musikalienhandel, 106-7.
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Table 2.1 (continued) 79
Bernhard Laubacher, “Notenschreiber,” “Musiker,” bom 1720 or 1721
Child, 31 August 1763
Laubacher, aged 68,5 June 1789, Wieden 148. Laubacher was survived by
a widow Barbara, and a daughter Anna Heinlin.
(WStLA, Mag. ZG, Fasz. 2-1896/1789)
Lorenz Lausch, “Musicus,” “Kirchenmusicus,” “gebilrtig aus Mahren,” bom 1737 or
1738
Child, Johann, 3 January 1783, “Kopffrais,” aged 3 months, Stadt 448
Child, Anton, 9 May 1785, “Abzehrang,” aged 8 months, ditto*
Child, Laurenz, 17 May 1788, aged 8 months, ditto
Child, Laurenz, 5 October 1794, “Brustwassersucht,” aged 4 years, ditto
Lausch, 23 November 1794, aged 56, ditto
Son, Franz, 1 December 1794, aged 14, “FraiBen”
Wife, Theresia, 4 May 1825, aged 70
Anton Melzer [Mdlzer?, Meltzerl, “Notenschreiber,” “Musiker,” “Musicus”
Child, 8 June 1791, Josefstadt 123
Child, Anna, 27 July 1792, “am Durchbruch,” aged 11 weeks, ditto
Franz Mittermayer, “Kirchenmusiker,” “Notenschreiber,” bom 1741 or 1742
Child, 28 June 1771
Child, 21 July 1772
Mittermayer, age 39,6 April 1781
(BUrgerspital, Abhandlungen, 2. Reihe 2168, Jahr 1781)
Georg Neubrand, “Musikus im kk Nazional Hoftheater” bom 1763 or 1764
Died 15 June 1799, aged 35, unmarried, Stadt 251, Strauchgassel
(WStLA, Mag. ZG, Fasz. 2-3522/1799)
Josef Neumann, “Notenschreiber,” bom 1721 or 1722
Died, aged 62,4 June 1784, “an Lungenfaulung,” “im Sauerkrautl[erischen] Haus”
* If their ages are given correctly in the Totenbeschauprotokoll, Johann and Anton
were probably twins.
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Table 2.1 (continued) 80
Kaspar Pennauer, “Musiker,” “Notenschreiber”i
Child, Anna, 7 August 1785, “Kopffrais,” aged 4 weeks, Ob. Neustift 248
Child, Johann Georg, 2 February 1789, “Gedarmfrais,” aged 3 weeks, Wieden 193
Child, 18 June 1791, Stadt, Himmelpfortgasse 1356
Wife, Elisabeth, nee Wagner, “aus Kfttzleinsdorf,” died 13 May 1792, aged 32,
Stadt 485k
Child, M. Anna, 8 August 1792, aged 3 months, Neustift 25
Friedrich Pischelberger, “Musiker”1
Child, 12 April 1774, Mariahilf 70, WeifierDrache
Child, 24 August 1779
Johann Radnitzky, unmarried “Notenschreiber,” bom in Rakonitz, Bohemia, in 1749 or
1750. For more on Radnitzky, see Chpt. 8.
Died, 24 January 1790, “Faulfieber,” aged 40, Leopoldstadt 222, “bei den
Barmherzigen”
Peter Radnitzky [Ranitzky], “Notenschreiber,” “Notten-Kopist,” bom in Rakonitz,
Bohemia, in 1759 or 1760
Child, 6 July 1798, Wieden 66
Radnitzky, widower, 3 October 1832, “Lungenlahm[ung],” aged 72, “Pfriind[ner]
Windmiihle 70”
Peter Rampl [Rampel], “Notenschreiber.” For more on Rampl, see Chpt. 8.
Child, Johann, 8 January 1782, “Gedarmfrais,” aged 3 months, Rossau 42
Wife, Karolina, 9 August 1834, aged 81, Rossau I45m
i On Pennauer, see Alexander Weinmann, Wiener Musikverleger und
Musikalienhdndler von Mozarts Zeit bis gegen 1860. Ein firmengeschichtlicher und
topographischer Behelf, Verdffentlichungen der Kommission fur Musikforschung, ed.
Erich Schenk, Heft 2, Osterreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, philosophisch-
historische Klasse, Sitzungsbericht, vol. 230, Abhandlung 4 (Vienna: In Kommission bei
Rudolf M. Rohrer, 1956), 30.
k If the dates and ages given here and in the following entry are correct, Elisabeth
would seem to have died in childbirth.
1 Friedrich’s father, Franz Pischelberger (also “Bischelberger,” and
“Pischelperger”) died on 5 Apr 1774 at the age of 63; see Gericke, Der Wiener
Musikalienhandel, 108.
m Rossau 145 was the residence of Wenzel Rampl, son of Peter and Karolina, and
one of Beethoven’s copyists.
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Table 2.1 (continued) 8 1
Franz Xaver Riersch (“Riesch”], “Notten=Schreiber,” bom 1727 or 1728
Wife Margareta, 3 March 1780, aged 64, Stadt, Untere BraunerstraBe, 1159, Drei
weiBe Tauben
Riersch, 4 March 1780, “Faulungs Fieber,” aged 52, ditto
Johann Schmutzer, “Notenschreiber,” “Musiker,” “Musikant.” For more on Schmutzer,
see Chpt. 7."
Child, 3 September 1775, Neustift 18, WeiBer Fasan
Child, Barbara, 17 April 1776, “Gedarmfrais,” aged I year, ditto
Wife, Magdalena, aged 30,23 May 1776, ditto0
Child, Michael, 24 April 1784, “Gedarmfrais,” aged 8 days, Neustift, Roter
Lfiwe 24
Child, 21 August 1788, Neustift 32
Franz Anton Steiner, “Musikkopist”
Child, Johanna, 2 September 1794, “Blattem,” aged 2 years, St. Ulrich 18, “beim
goldenen Sped”
Child, Franz, 26 December 1794, “Abzehrung,” aged 4 years, Spitalberg 75
[cf. Franz Xaver Steiner, Musiker bei St. Stephan]
Wenzel Sukowaty, “Musicus,” “Hof Theatral Copist,” “Theatral Musicus,” “Musikus im
KK: Hof=Theater,” “k. k. Hofkopist und Musikus,” bom 31 July 1746 in
Pozoricz nachst Briinn (Posorice). For more on Sukowaty, see Chpt. 9.
Child, Joseph, 11 January 1777, aged 2 months 21 days, Mariahilf, Zwei weiBe
Kreuze 67
Child, Ignatz, 17 July 1780, “Stekfrais,” aged 10 days, Windmuhl
Child, Ernestine, 19 June 1790, “Gedarmfrais und Auszehrung,” aged 6 months,
Getreidemarkt 133
Wife, Josepha, nde Kaspar (or Kasper), from Vienna, aged 43, 25 February 1799,
Stadt 614
Son, Wenzel, 21 May 1799, “Gedarmentziindung,” aged 23, ditto
Sukowaty, 8 June 1810, “Auszehrung,” aged 63, ditto
(WStLA, Mag. ZG, Fasz. 2-5037/1810)
" On Schmutzer, see also Gericke, Der Wiener Musikalienhandel, 108.
0 Gericke gives Magdalena’s date of death as 24 May 1770.
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Table 2.1 (continued)
Josef Tirsa [“Jersa,” “Girssa”?], “Notenschreiber,” born 1751 or 1752p
82
Died, 21 April 1787, aged 35, unmarried, Wieden 161
Johann Traeg [Trag, “Drach”], “MusikalienMndler,” “k. k. privileg[ierter] Kunst= und
Musikalienhandler,” bom in Gochsheim, Lower Franconia, 20 January 1747. For
more on Traeg, see Chpt. 7.
Child, Johann Samuel, 2 July 1786, “Gedarmfrais,” aged 14 days, ditto
Child, Karl, 30 April 1788, “Gedarmfrais,” aged 3 months, ditto
Child, Barbara, 10 August 1791, “Gedarmfrais,” aged 10 weeks, Wieden 255
Child, Karl, 15 June 1792, “Fraisen,” aged 9 days, ditto
Child, Sophia, 28 April 1793, “Schwache der Lebenskriifte,” aged 3 days, ditto
Wife, Eleonora, nde von Merezi, died 9 June 1793, aged 39
Traeg, widower, died 5 September 1805, “Brustwassersucht,” aged 58, Freihaus
454
Michael Trittenwein, “Kirchenmusiker,” “Kirchen Musicus,” “Notenkopist”
Child, Theresia, 20 October 1782, “Gedarmfrais,” aged 4 weeks, Spittelberg 123
Child, Anna, 12 July 1784, “Kopffrais,” aged 2 years, Stadt, Kurrentgasse 259,
GroBes Ofenloch
Child, 1 September 1785, Obere Neustift 229, Mohr
Child, 13 June 1786, ditto
Child, 13 February 1787, ditto, 215
Child, Michael, 20 July 1788, “Gedarmfrais,” ditto, 53, bei Reichsadler
Child, Magdalena, 23 July 1789, “Gedarmfrais,” aged 15 days, Lichtental 63,
Schwarzer Ochs
Child, Michael, 9 April 1792, “an Fraisen,” aged 6 months, WindmUhle 29 bei
WeiBen Lammel
Wife, Cacilia, n6e Gebhart, bom in “Amberg aus d. Pfalz,” 16 April 1793, aged 36,
ditto
Child, 21 December 1795, “an der Auszehrung,” Neubau 211, “bei weisen Band”
Kaspar WeiB, “Schauspieler,” “Schauspieler am Wiedner Theater”
Child, Karl Emanuel, 23 August 1795, “Durchfall,” aged 1 year [Matzleinsdorf],
Wieden 268
Child, Josepha, 3 February 1798, “Nervenschlag,” aged 17, Freyhaus 4541
Child, Franziska, 6 February 1798, “Zahnfrais,” aged 1 year, ditto
Child, Andreas, 19 December 1801, “Nervenfieber,” aged 11, Wieden 38
p Tirsa may be identical to the “Girrsa” who signed a receipt in the Schwarzenberg
archive; see the discussion in the main text.
i Josepha was a child from WeiB’s first marriage.
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Table 2.1 (continued) 83
WeiB, died 29 June 1807, in the Allgemeines Krankenhaus, resided at Windmlihle
8. Two surviving children, Franz, aged 8, and Magdalena, aged 7
Wife, Anna, 8 March 1829, aged 60
Johann Wertinger, “Theatral Hofkopist”
Child, M. Anna, 7 July 1789, “Kopfapostam,” aged 6 months, Neu-Wien 104,
Griiner Adler, Obergstdttengasse
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84
Trittenwein a “NotenkopisL” Joseph Borsari is described merely as a “Kopist im
Komtidienhaus” or “Theatral Copist,” and it is uncertain here whether “Kopist” is meant
to imply that he copied music, or might simply imply that he copied role books for actors
and other verbal texts needed by the theater, such as prompter’s books. However,
references to Borsari in the records of the Viennese court theater suggest that he probably
did copy music, at least occasionally.4 1 Similarly, Johann Wertinger is identified in the
Totenbeschauprotokoll merely as a “Theatral Hofkopist,” and it is uncertain whether he
copied music, although one suspects that he did. Wenzel Sukowaty, the chief opera
copyist for the court theater from 1778 to 17%, is similarly described as “Hof Theatral
Copist.”
“Johann Dreger” and Johann Traeg are both described in the Totenbeschauprotokoll
as “Musikalienhdndler” (music dealers). From Traeg’s catalogue of 1799 and his many
advertisements in the Wiener Zeitung and other local newspapers, we know that he was
one of the most important music copyists in Vienna, with perhaps the largest and most
varied stock.4 2 One wonders whether the name “Dreger,” which appears only once in the
Totenbeschauprotokoll, might not in fact also refer to Traeg, whose name was frequently
mangled by Viennese officials, appearing in such unlikely guises as “Drhch.”
4 1 For example, Borsari was paid 5 fl. 43 kr. in the season 1776-77 for copying
music by Starzer for the play Der Fuchs in der Falle (HHStA, Hoftheater, SR 11, item
134), and in 1777 he was paid 6 fl. 46 kr. for copying twelve minuets by Joseph Haydn
(HHStA, Hoftheater, SR 35, item 23). Assuming a rate of 7 kreuzer per Bogen (which,
as we shall see, was a common rate for copying instrumental music), the first of these
payments implies 49 Bogen (bifolia) and the second 58.
4 2 Traeg’s catalogue of 1799 is published in facsimile in Alexander Weinmann,
Johann Traeg. Die Musikalienverzeichnisse von 1799 und 1804 (Handschriften und
Sortiment), Beitrage zur Geschichte des Alt-Wiener Musikverlages, Reihe 2, Folge 17
(Vienna: Universal Edition, 1973). For Traeg’s advertisements in the Wiener Zeitung,
see Weinmann, Die Anzeigen des Kopiaturbetriebes Johann Traeg in der Wiener Zeitung
zwischen 1782 und 1805, Wiener Archivstudien, vol. 6 (Vienna: Musikverlag Ludwig
Krenn, 1981), and also below, Chpt. 7.
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85
Joseph Gulden, Ferdinand Halberzettel, Michael Hartmann, Bernhard Laubacher,
Anton Melzer, Franz Mittermayer, Kaspar Pennauer, Johann Schmutzer, and Wenzel
Sukowaty are all described at least once in the Totenbeschauprotokoll as “Musiker,”
“Musicus,” or “Kirchenmusiker,” implying that they also worked as performing
musicians. Lorenz Lausch, Georg Neubrand, and Friedrich Pischelberger are not listed
as “copyists” at all, but are instead described simply as “musicians” of various types.
Lausch, along with Sukowaty and Traeg, was one of the most important copyists in
Vienna in the 1780s, and his activities in that capacity are well documented in newspaper
advertisements and archival records. In his advertisements in the Wiener Zeitung, Lausch
often referred to himself as a “Musikverleger” (music publisher), even though his trade
was in manuscripts copies, not prints. Neubrand is described in the Totenbeschau
protokoll as a musician in the Nationaltheater, and his name appears in the theater records
as a violinist; however, in the Wiener Zeitung of 19 February 1785 Neubrand advertised
copies of Haydn symphonies:
Neue Sinfonien
Johann Georg Neubrand hat die Ehre den
Musikliebhabem die 3 neuen Sinfonien vom
Herm Jos. Haydn ex G magg. F magg. und
D minore anzuklindigen; der Preis von einer,
sauber und korrekt geschrieben ist 2 fl. 20 kr.
alle 3 zusammen 7 fl. Er logiert in der
Naglergasse Nr. 191 im 2ten Stock bey Hm.
Thada Huber, Musikus im k. k. National Hof=
theater.
New Symphonies.
Johann Georg Neubrand has the honor
to announce to music lovers the 3 new symphonies
of Herr Joseph Haydn in G major, F major, and
D minor, the price of one, cleanly and correctly
written, is 2 gulden 20 kreuzer, of all 3 together
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86
7 gulden. He lodges in the Naglergasse No. 191
on the 2nd floor with Herr Thadd&is Huber,
musician in the k. k. National Hoftheater.4 3
The music copyists who are explicitly identified as such in the Totenbeschau
protokoll are not the only Viennese copyists whose names can be uncovered. For
example, the music publisher Christoph Torricella also occasionally advertised music in
manuscript. On 23 February 1785 (in an advertisement that also announced a printed
edition of the same three Haydn symphonies that Neubrand had offered in handwritten
copies), Torricella offered handwritten scores and arrangements of Paisiello’s opera II re
Teodoro:
. . . Auch ist zu haben:
II Re Teodoro in Venezia die ganze Spart
schon und correkt geschrieben, 39 fl.
den ganzen Klavierauszug mit alien
Singstimmen.
die Quartetten a 2 Viol. Viola Bass
von der besten Uibersetzung; femers kann
man auch alle Arien von dieser beliebten
und sehr schdnen Opera insbesondere haben.. . .
. . . Also to be had:
II re Teodoro in Venezia, the entire score,
beautifully and correctly written, 39 gulden
the complete keyboard score with all
vocal parts
the quartets for 2 violins, viola and basso
in the best transcription; in addition, one can
4 3 WZ, Sat, 19 Feb 1785, No. 15, 396. Neubrand is referring to Haydn’s
symphonies 79,80, and 81, in F major, D minor, and G major, which were completed
the previous year. The same three symphonies were advertised by Wenzel Sukowaty on
12 Feb 1785, as “Die drey neuesten Sinfonien vom Hm. Jos. Haydn,” (W Z, Sat,
12 Feb 1785, No. 13, 338), and by Johann Traeg on 16 Feb 1785, as “Die 3 neuesten
Sinfonien von Giuseppe Haydn ex G majore F majore und D minore, jede zu 3 fl. 30 kr.”
(W Z , Wed, 16 Feb 1785, No. 14, 370). That Neubrand’s price is substantially lower
than Traeg’s suggests that Neubrand may have been trying to undercut the latter.
Neubrand’s estate, origin, and family background are detailed in WStLA, Mag. ZG,
Fasz. 2-3522/1799.
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87
also have individually all the arias from this beloved
and very beautiful opera 4 4
As we shall see in Chapter 9, Torricella advertised manuscript copies of Mozart’s Le
nozze di Figaro on 3 May 1786, just two days after the opera’s premiere.4 5 The
composer and publisher Franz Anton Hofftneister sometimes offered music in
manuscript. For example, Hofftneister’s advertisement in the Wiener Zeitung on
15 January 1791 begins:
Bey Franz Anton Hofftneister, Musik- Kunst- und Buchhandler in der Wollzeile
Nr. 803 neben dem Schwebbogen sind folgende neue Musikalien schdn und
korrekt geschrieben zu haben:
Tanzmusik:
Mozart 6 deutsche T&ize aus dem k. k. Redoutensaal, vollstimmig 1 fl. 40 kr.
From Franz Anton Hofftneister, Music-, Art-, and Bookdealer in the Wollzeile
No. 803 next to the arch can be had the following new music, beautifully and
correctly written:
Dance music:
Mozart 6 German dances from the k. k. Redoutensaal, complete parts,
1 fl. 40 kr.
46
4 4 WZ, Wed, 23 Feb 1785, No. 16, 429.
4 5 At least two other advertisements by Torricella in the WZ are thought to refer to
manuscript copies of Mozart’s music. On 10 Sep 1785, Torricella advertised six string
quartets by Mozart (see the transcription of the advertisement in Deutsch, Dokumente,
220). The works referred to are the string quartets K. 168-173, almost certainly in
manuscript copy. Torricella’s advertisement for these quartets appeared around the same
time that Artaria was about to issue the first edition of Mozart’s six “Haydn” quartets.
Artaria published a critical response to Torricella in an advertisement of 17 Sep 1785
(Deutsch, Dokumente, 221-22). See also Torricella’s reply (Deutsch, Dokumente, 222).
On 26 Mar 1785, Torricella advertised manuscript copies of pieces for keyboard
and violin by Paisiello (WZ, Sat, 26 Mar 1785,701). Alexander Weinmann cites several
other advertisements by Torricella that explicitly offer music in manuscript or refer to
works that Weinmann believes Torricella was offering in manuscript; see his Kataloge
Anton Huberty (Wien) und Christoph Torricella, Beitrage zur Geschichte des Alt-Wiener
Musikverlags, Reihe 2, Folge 7 (Vienna: Universal Edition, 1962). Great caution must
be exercised in interpreting Weinmann’s listings, however, as many of his statements on
this matter seem to be pure guesswork, and he does not make a careful distinction
between actual transcriptions from Torricella’s advertisements and his own summaries.
4 6 Deutsch, Dokumente, 338.
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88
We do not yet know whether Torricella and Hofftneister copied this music themselves or
hired assistants. Artaria also sometimes offered music in manuscript For example,
a printed sale catalogue issued by Artaria in 1792 offered manuscript copies of operas in
score (including Cosi fa n tutte), parts for opera overtures, and operas arranged for string
quartet.4 7 The Musiksammlung of the Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek possesses
a manuscript score of Haydn’s aria “Anna m’ascolta quel figlio” (No. 5b from the
oratorio 1 1 Ritom o di Tobia) which at the end carries the inscription “copista d’artaria.”4 8
A handful of other music copyists are known by name from advertisements in local
Viennese newspapers in the 1780s. One of these was Joseph Franz Seuche, who
published an advertisement in Das Wienerblattchen on 30 September 1783, offering
chamber music in manuscript at “Mariahttlf beym blechemen Thum N. 4. nachst der
Schmiede beym Brunn im I. Stock” (“in Mariahilf at Blechturm No. 4 next to the smith
by the fountain on the first floor”).4 9 An advertisement printed in Das Wienerblattchen on
Friday, 13 August 1784, offers manuscript copies of sonatas, symphonies, and chamber
music from a “Herr Politzer” at No. 44 Bauemmarkt5 0 On 19 February 1785, Leopold
Grund published the following advertisement in the Wiener Zeitung:
4 7 WStLB, Konvolut L 86854, Verzeichnis von Musicalien, welche bey Artaria und
Compagnie Kunst- Kupferstich- Landkarten- M usicalienhandlem und Verlegem in Wien
a u f dem Kohlmarkt zu haben sind. Im Janer 1792 (Vienna, 1792), 3-4,14-15, and 49-
50. I am grateful to Rupert Ridgewell for this reference.
4 8 A-Wn, S. m. 9835. The copyist of this manuscript has not yet been identified,
although the hand bears some resemblance to Joseph Arthofer (see Chpt. 5, and n. 17).
On 23 Mar 1791, “FreyBmuth & Comp.” on the Kohlmarkt offered “ Sei Quartetti a 2
Violini, Alto e Basso del Silverio Muller, schdn, und korrekt geschrieben fiir 6 fl. 40 kr.”
(“Six Quartets for 2 Violins, Viola, and Basso by Silverio MtiUer, beautifully and
correctly written, for 6 fl. 40 kr.”; WZ, Wed, 23 Mar 1791, 751).
4 9 WB, Tue, 30 Sep 1783, 32.
5 0 WB, Fri, 13 Aug 1784, 122-23. Politzer’s offerings include “Sechs
Karakter=Simphonien von Hm. Joseph Haydn.” On 8 Dec 1784, a “Herr Politzer”
(presumably the same one) published an advertisement in Das Wienerblattchen for
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89
Anktindigung.
Nachdem die Uebersetzung der Opera: II Re
Theodora, zu nicht geringem Vergniigen des
Uebersetzers allgemeinen Beyfall gefunden; so
hat er einen zweyten Versuch gewagt, und die
Opera: il Barbiere di Seviglia, gleichfalls
auf 2 Violine, Viola e Violoncello in Quar=
tetten Ubersetzt. Es wild darauf bey Leopold
Grund, nachst dem St. Stephanshauptthore
Pranumeration mit 2 kaiserl. Dukaten bis En=
de Marz angenommen, und den 14. April
werden gegen Zuriickgabe des Scheines
abgereicht werden. Musikliebhaber konnen e=
ben daselbst auf Quartetten aus der Opera:
U Re Theodora, auf flauto traverso, oder
flauto d’amore gesetzt, je nachdem sie es bey
der Vorausbezahlung verlangen werden, mit
2 kaiserl. Dukaten pranumeriren. Die Zeit=
termine sind die namlichen wie oben.
Announcement.
Since, to the transcriber's not inconsiderable
pleasure, the transcription of the opera 1 1 re
Teodoro has received general acclaim; so he
has dared to make a second attempt, and to
transcribe the opera II barbiere di Siviglia for
2 violins, viola, and violoncello. Subscriptions
for 2 imperial ducats will be taken until the end
of March by Leopold Grund, next to the main
gate of St. Stephen’s, and will be given out on
14 April upon return of the ticket. Music lovers
can, in the same place, and provided that they
request it at the time of pre-payment, also subscribe
to settings of the opera 1 1 re Teodoro for quartet,
transverse flute, or flauto d’amore. The dates
are the same as above.5 1
“Osservazioni chritiche sopra il Dramma II Ricco d’un Giomo.” His address in this
advertisement is given as 544 Kohlmarkt.
5 1 WZ, Sat, 19 Feb 1785, No. 15, 397. Seuche, Politzer, and Grund do not appear
in Gugitz’s extracts from the Totenbeschauprotokoll. Grund may be equivalent to the
bookseller Franz Leopold Grund whose advertisements sometimes appear in the Wiener
Zeitung around this time. Six string quartets in the collection of the Osterreichische
Nationalbibliothek (A-Wn, S. m. 12360-65) are attributed to Seuche; see Warren
Kirkendale, Fugue and Fugato in Rococo and Classical Chamber Music, 2nd ed., trans.
Margaret Bent and Warren Kirkendale (Durham, N. C.: Duke University Press, 1979),
298. Seuche may also perhaps be equivalent to the “Joseph Suche” listed as
“Musikdirektor” at the Theater auf der Wieden in 1796; see Johann Ferdinand von
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90
A few Viennese copyists are known because they signed their copies. Johann
Schmutzer (who will be discussed in Chapter 7) often signed his copies, as did Johann
Radnitzky (discussed in Chapter 8). Commercial copies from the shops of Wenzel
Sukowaty and Lorenz Lausch are almost always “signed,” but one needs to keep in mind
in this case that neither the manuscripts nor the signatures are necessarily in the
handwriting of either of these men, who employed a large number of assistants. (I shall
refer to such inscriptions on title-pages as “imprints,” on analogy with publisher’s
imprints in published books.) In the 1790s, manuscript scores of Singspiele from the
Theater auf der Wieden began to appear under the imprint of Kaspar WeiB, an actor in the
company of Emanuel Schikaneder. Slightly later scores sometimes bear the joint imprint
of WeiB and Matthias Stegmayr (for more on WeiB and the copy shop of the Theater auf
der Wieden, see Chapter 10). Other names or initials that appear on Viennese
manuscripts from the last quarter of the eighteenth century include Joseph Haroidt,
“Eberl,” and “N. H.”5 2
SchOnfeld, Jahrbuch der Tonkunst von Wien und Prag (Vienna: Im von Schonfeldischen
Verlag, 17%; reprint, with an afterword and index by Otto Biba, Munich: Musikverlag
Emil Katzbichler, 1976), 96. “Joseph Suche,” who was evidently a violinist, also gave
several concerts in the Theater auf der Wieden in the 1790s; see Mary Sue Morrow,
Concert Life in Haydn’ s Vienna: Aspects o f a Developing Musical and Social Institution
(Stuyvesant, N. Y.: Pendragon Press, 1989), Concert Calendar, 13 Apr 1791, 11 Mar
1792, 25 Mar 1795,20 Mar 17%, and 9 Apr 1797.
5 2 On Haroidt and Eberl, see A. Peter Brown, “Notes on Some Eighteenth-Century
Viennese Copyists,” Journal o f the American Musicological Society 34, no. 2 (1981):
325-38, esp. 328-31 (on Eberl) and 333-38 (on Haroidt). Brown suggests that Eberl
may have been the musician Leopold Eberl. He identifies Haroidt as Joseph Georg
Haroidt, organist, “Claviermeister” and “Regenschori” at St. Ulrich’s. The death date
Brown gives for Haroidt is incorrect. According to the Totenbeschauprotokoll, Haroidt
died on 13 Dec 1782 (not 16 Dec 1772 as given by Brown), at the age of 63. If Haroldt’s
age is given correctly, then he would have been bom in 1719, or possibly 1718 (not
1720, as given by Brown). Brown associates Haroidt with inscriptions such as “Spectat
ad me J. H.” (“inspected by me J. H”) that are found on several manuscripts of music by
Joseph Haydn. I have uncovered another group of manuscripts with similar inscriptions
that confirm Brown’s identification of “J. H.” as Joseph Haroidt. The archive of the
Gesellschaft der Musikfireunde preserves manuscripts of seven keyboard sonatas
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91
Other Viennese music copyists are known from receipts. The Schwarzenberg
archive in Cesky Krumlov preserves an especially useful collections of receipts from
music copyists.5 3 From the 1750s and 1760s the archive contains several receipts from
the Viennese music copyists Theresia ZiB and Carl Cham pee. From the 1780s and
1790s, the archive preserves receipts for music copying from Wenzel Sukowaty, Lorenz
Lausch, the oboist and composer Johann Went, the composer Georg Druschetzky,
Andreas GrieBler, Joseph “Girrsa” (probably equivalent to the ‘Tirsa” in Table 2.1),
attributed to “Sig:rc Haroidt” or “Sig: Georgio Haroidt” (A-Wgm, VII 14526 [Q 13117-
13123]). The title pages of all seven carry inscriptions similar to those discussed by
Brown: “Spect. ad me J. H.” (Q 13117, 13119, 13120,13122, and 13123), “Spect: ad
me J. Haroidt” (Q 13118), and “Spect: ad me Josepham Haroidt,,^.” One of these
manuscripts (Q 13122) is dated “July [IJ776.” The manuscripts are written by four
different hands, all of them known from other Viennese manuscripts from around this
time. Q 13118 and Q 13120 are probably in the hand that Brown tentatively identifies as
that of Eberl (see Brown, “Viennese Copyists,” 331, Fig. 5). Q 13117 and Q 13123 are
written by a hand found in more than a dozen manuscripts of 18th-century Viennese
keyboard concertos in CZ-KRa, including possibly a copy of the keyboard part to
Mozart’s K. 413 (CZ-KRa, II-G-7I [A 3265]). Q 13I2I is written by a hand I call Edge
72, found in several Viennese Haydn manuscripts (including parts for the keyboard
concerto Hob. XVIII:6, in CZ-KRa, II-F-12 [A 2999], and parts for the keyboard
concerto Hob. XVIILF2, in CZ-KRa, II-F-43 [A 3030]), as well as manuscripts of
keyboard concertos by Leopold Hofmann and Wagenseil. Q 13119 and Q 13122 are
possibly written by the copyist known to Haydn scholars as Viennese Professional 3.
This brief discussion only begins to suggest the many intricate interconnections between
this group of Viennese copyists active in the 1770s and perhaps the early 1780s, a group
that also included Viennese Professional 2 (probably Friedrich Pischelberger). These
interconnections cannot be sorted out here. However, another Mozart source that may
come from this group is a keyboard part for the Piano Concerto in C, K. 415, found in
CZ-KRa, II-G-63 (A 3257). This keyboard part may therefore date from a time close to
the concerto’s completion. It contains a fully written-out continuo part in the tuttis.
The initials “N. H.” appear on the title pages of a large number of sets of parts for
chamber music in the “Kaisersammlung,” the private collection of Emperor Franz II (I).
On “N. H.,” which are presumed to be the initials of the copyist, see Warren Kirkendale,
“More Slow Introductions by Mozart to Fugues of J. S. Bach?” Journal o f the American
Musicological Society 17, no. 1 (1964): 43-65, esp. the facsimiles in Plates I and II on
p. 48; idem, Fuge und Fugato in der Kammermusik des Rokoko und der Klassik
(Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1966), 90 and Abbildungen IX; and idem, Fugue and Fugato,
41.
S 3 On the items related to music in the Schwarzenberg archive, see also Jin Zaloha,
“Hudebnf 2ivot na Dvore Knizat ze Schwarzenberku v 18. Stoletx,” Hudebni Veda 24,
no. I (1987): 43-62.
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92
Jakob Klein, Johann Schmutzer, and Joseph Arthofer.5 4 O f these, Went and perhaps
also GrieBler seem to have been in the employ of the Schwarzenberg family. Sukowaty,
Lausch, Klein, Schmutzer, and Arthofer were all Viennese copyists. A Viennese copyist
named Johann Weiss is known from a signed receipt in the Oettingen-Wallerstein
archive.5 5
Several other copyists are known from entries in account books for balls held in the
Redoutensdle in Vienna in the late 1770s and the 1780s. Copyists mentioned in these
books include Joseph Uhrl (1780), Johann Wilfinger (1781), Georg Deissinger (1782),
Jakob Baumgarten (1784 and 1786), and Wenzel Swoboda (1789).5 6
Under the heading “Musikhandler und Verleger” (Music Dealers and Publishers) the
Jahrbuch der Tonkunst von Wien und Prag of 1796 mentions Lausch, Sukowaty
(“Succovate”), and Traeg, along with the music publishers Artaria, Hofftneister, and
Kozeluch, the bookseller Lukas Hohenleitner, and the “Hoftheatralmusikalienverlag,"
a music shop associated with the court theater (this shop will be discussed in more detail
in Chapters 8 and 9).5 7 At the end of the section, the Jahrbuch includes the following
listing:
Und bei dem Hm. Buchhandler edlen v. Schmiedbauer und Kompagnie
am Graben sind Musikalien von verschiedenen Meistem theils
geschrieben, theils gestochen zu haben.
5 4 All references are to Cesky Krumlov, Schwarzenberg Zentralkassa (UP), IIIB
3b/11. See also Zaloha, op. cit., 61, where several additional names are mentioned.
5 5 See Fisher, “Haydn’s Overtures,” Appendix C, esp. 454-58. I can point to two
other manuscripts in the hand that Fisher has tentatively identified as that of Johann Weiss
(see his Facsimiles 27 and 28): a set of parts for a Cello Concerto in G by the obscure
Franz Kurzweil (A-Wgm, IX 2353), and the keyboard part from a complete set of
orchestral parts for a Keyboard Concerto in F attributed to C. P. E. Bach (CZ-KRa, II-G-
2 [A 3196]).
5 6 References are to HHStA, Hoftheater, SR 37, 38, 39,41,42, and 45.
5 7 Schonfeld, Jahrbuch der Tonkunst von Wien und Prag, 85-86.
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93
And from the Herr Bookseller Lord von Schmiedbauer and Company on
the Graben can be had music by various masters, some in manuscript
and some engraved.3 8
Schmidtbauer (as he seems actually to have spelled his name) published an advertisement
for dance music in the Wiener Zeitung on 24 December 1796:
Neue Tanzmusikalien fiir das Jahr 1796,
welche bey Edl. v. Schmidtbauer und Comp, am
Graben zur blauen Krone, dem Elephanten
gegenttber zu haben sind, als:
12 Menuette, 2 fl. 30 kr.
12 Deutsche, 2 fl. 30 kr.
12 Contredanze, 2 fl. 30 kr.
12 Landlerische, 2 fl. 30 kr.
12 Deutsche aus dem Tyroller=Wastl, 2 fl.
1 2 detto detto in Clavier, 30 kr.
Von diesen Musikalien sind 3 Stimmen, wie auch
einzelne Stimmen zu haben.
Auch sind selbe in dem Casino, wo sie producirt
werden beym Orchester zu haben.
New Dance Music for the Year 1796 which
may be had from Lord von Schmidtbauer and Co.
on the Graben at the Blue Crown, across from
the Elephant, namely:
12 Minuets, 2 fl. 30 kr.
12 German dances, 2 fl. 30 kr.
12 Contredanses, 2 fl. 30 kr.
12 LSndler, 2 fl. 30 kr.
12 German dances from Der tiroler Wastel, 2 fl.
1 2 ditto ditto for keyboard, 30 kr.
This music may be had in 3 parts, as well as in
individual parts.
The same pieces may be had in the Casino, from
the orchestra that is performing them.3 9
Although this advertisement does not specify that the music is being offered in
manuscript, it seems very likely that it was. Schmidtbauer’s remark about the orchestra
5 8 Schdnfeld, Jahrbuch der Tonkunst von Wien und Prag, 86.
3 9 WZ, Sat, 24 Dec 1796, 3694.
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94
suggests that he may have been offering the dances on commission. At present, nothing
further is known about Schmidtbauer’s activities as a distributor of music.
The violinist and composer Joseph Heidenreich often advertised his own
compositions and arrangements, which he almost certainly distributed entirely in
manuscript In the late 1780s and early 1790s, Heidenreich (also “Heydenreich” or
“Haydenreich”) may have been associated with Lausch, who occasionally named
Heidenreich as the arranger of works offered in his advertisements.6 0 Heidenreich’s own
advertisements have yet to be systematically investigated. The earliest one that 1 have
found appeared in the Wiener Zeitung on 23 March 1791, offering arrangements of
Wenzel Muller’s Sormenfest der Braminen for string quartet for eight-part Harmonie,
and as a keyboard score. The advertisement also includes several dances, and arias from
Dittersdorf s Doktor und Apotheker arranged for two flutes, among various other items.6 1
On 14 January 1792 Heidenreich announced a subscription to his own arrangement of Die
Zauberflote for eight-part Harmonie.6 2 On 1 September 1792 he then advertised what
seems to have been a different arrangement of the same work, this time specifying that the
arrangement was being offered in manuscript:
Harmonie Musik.
Einer hohen Noblesse, und alien Musikgdn=
nem, besonders den Hm. Obristen und Re=
gimentskommandanten dienet zur Nachricht,
danach entschlossen bin, die Zauberfldte, Opera
des unvergeBlichen Hm. Mozart, in Harmonie
a 2 Ob[oe], 2 Clarinetti, 2 Comi, 2 Fagotti,
nach dem wahren Original, namlich nach der
6 0 See, for example, Lausch’s advertisement for Don Giovanni in the Wiener
Zeitung on 24 May 1788 (Deutsch, Dokumente, 277-78), and his advertisement in the
same periodical for dances by Mozart on 1 Jun 1791 (Deutsch, Dokumente, 347).
6 1 WZ, Wed, 23 Mar 1791, 751.
6 2 The portion of this advertisement dealing with Mozart is given in Deutsch,
Dokumente, 383.
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95
Spart, selbst heraus zu geben. Sie besteht
aus der Overtur, nebst den schdnsten Stticken
und den beyden Finalen. Ich schmeichle mir
mit dieser Uebersetzung, welche in korrekten
Manuscript herausgegeben wird, einen all=
gemeinen Beyfall um so mehr zu erhalten, da
dieselbe nicht jene Uebersetzung der bereits er=
schienen ist, und folglich auch diese weit
hinter sich zurttcklhfit
Joseph Heidenreich, Compositeur, wohn=
haft in der Leopoldstadt in der
Schmelzgasse hinter dem Theater
im kleinen Ring Nr. 456 zu ebe=
ner Erde.
Music for Harmonie.
The high nobility, and all patrons of music,
especially colonels and regimental commanders
are hereby notified that the undersigned has
decided himself to publish Die Zauberflote, the
opera by the unforgettable Herr Mozart, for
a Harmonie of 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 horns, and
2 bassoons, based on the true original, namely
the score. It consists of the overture, along with
the most beautiful pieces and both finales. I flatter
myself that I shall receive general acclaim for
this arrangement, which will be published in
correct manuscript, all the more so because this is
not the same as the arrangement that has already
appeared, and consequently far surpasses that one.
Joseph Heidenreich, composer, residing
in Leopoldstadt in Schmelzgasse
behind the Theater, in the Small
Ring, No. 456, on the ground
floor.6 3
Particularly striking in this advertisement is Heidenreich’s claim to have based his
arrangement on “the true original,” perhaps implying (although not necessarily) that he
had access to Mozart’s autograph. It is also worthy o f note that Heidenreich directs his
advertisement specifically at military commanders, evidently with a view toward the use
of his arrangement by military bands.
6 3 WZ, Sat, 1 Sep 1792,2422. This advertisement does not appear in Deutsch,
Dokumente.
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%
This brief overview does not exhaust the list of names of those who copied music
for a living in Vienna during the last quarter of the eighteenth century, or those who
possibly copied their own music in order to market it The composer Johann Mederitsch
is said to have worked as a copyist and he may have been associated with Traeg.6 4
Denes Bartha and Ldszld Sotnfai have suggested that Haydn’s copyist Johann Schellinger
may have worked as a copyist in Vienna before joining the musical establishment of
Prince Esterhdzy in 1777 or 1778.6 5 The composer and music publisher Leopold
Kozeluch, along with his brother Anton, seem to have distributed some music in
manuscript from their “Magazin der Musik.”6 6 The composers Ignaz Schweigl and
Ferdinand Kauer sometimes advertised manuscript copies of their own works.6 7 The
dance composer Stanislaus Ossowsky seems at various times to have distributed his
6 4 On Mederitsch, see Theodor Aigner, “Johann Gallus Mederitsch. Komponist
und Kopist des ausgehenden 18. und frilhen 19. Jahrhunderts,” Die Musihforschung 26
(1973): 341-44; and idem, “Johann Mederitsch Called Gallus (1752-1835): Composer
and Copyist in Vienna and Lemberg,” Current Musicology 20 (1975): 79-86. Aigner’s
article in Die Musikforschung includes facsimiles of two manuscripts in Mederitsch’s
hand. Mederitsch’s father, Gallus Anton Mederitsch, also copied music. The quarterly
account books from the court theater in the 1750s record several payments to him for
copying for academies in 1755,1756, and 1757 (Vienna, Hofkammerarchiv, HZAB, 340
[item 41], 341 [item 30], 342 [item 71], 346 [item 67], and 349 [item 62)]).
6 5 See Bartha and Somfai, Haydn als Opemkapellmeister, 408.
66 Alexander Weinmann cites an advertisement published on 12 Nov 17%, in the
Wiener Zeitung by Kozeluch’s firm. According to Weinmann, this advertisement reads,
in part: “Der Katalog der dieser Handlung aufgelegten Werke wird allda unentgeltlich
abgegeben; sowie auch alle geschriebene Musikalien teils zu haben und auch zum
Schreiben angenommen werden” (“A catalogue of the works published by this shop is
available there free of charge; all hand-written music may also be had there, and music is
also accepted for copying”). Cited in Weinmann, Verzeichnis der Verlagswerke des
Musikalischen Magazins in Wien, 1784-1802. Leopold (und Anton) Kozeluch, 2nd ed.,
expanded and completely revised, Beitrage zurGeschichte des Alt-Wiener Musikverlages,
Reihe 2, Folge la (Vienna: Musikverlag Ludwig Krenn, 1979), 36. Weinmann notes that
the catalogue to which the advertisement refers is lost.
6 7 On the advertisements of Schweigl and Kauer, see Alexander Weinmann, Wiener
Musikverlag ‘ Am Rande.' Ein liickenfullender Beitrag zur Geschichte des Alt-Wiener
Musikverlages, Beitr&ge zur Geschichte des Alt-Wiener Musikverlages, Reihe 2, Folge
13 (Vienna: Universal Edition, 1970), 71 and 127.
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97
music through Hoffmeister or through Kozeluch, and he later published advertisements of
his own in the Wiener Zeitung.6 * It seems likely that most of his music was likewise
distributed in manuscript, although his advertisements do not make this explicit On
17 February 1784, Johann Georg Pdck advertised minuets and German dances in Das
Wienerblattchen, which were probably also distributed in manuscript6 9 Further research
will undoubtedly uncover many more names.
Thus, at a conservative estimate, for the period 1775-1800 we can identify the
names of well over fifty men who copied music in Vienna at one time or another, or who
advertised and sold music in manuscript copies, even if that music had been copied by
others. Of these copyists, the musical handwritings of only a handful can at present be
identified with any confidence; among these are Joseph Arthofer (see Chapter 5), Johann
Radnitzky (see Chapter 8), Peter Rampl (see Chapter 8), and Johann Schmutzer (see
Chapter 7), and (with somewhat less certainty) Friedrich Pischelberger, Johann Weiss,
and Beethoven’s copyist Wenzel Schlemmer.7 0 Of these, only the first four are currently
known to have copied music by Mozart The rest of the several hundred recognizable
Viennese musical hands from this period remain anonymous—although this study will
have occasion to suggest tentative links between a few additional names and hands. For
example, in Chapter 6 ,1 shall suggest that the hand of one of the most important of
6 8 On Wed, 18 Dec 1793, Ossowsky published a long advertisement in the Wiener
Zeitung (p. 3635) in which he announced that beginning 20 Dec, all of his dance music
would be available only directly from him, in his residence “auf dem St. Stephansplatze
beym schwarzen Berg Nr. 615 auf der Hauptstiege im 5ten Stock... wo der
Anschlag=Zettel zu sehen ist” (“on Stephansplatz, at the Black Mountain, No. 615, in the
main staircase on the fifth floor... where one sees the notice”). On Kozeluch’s
advertisements of Ossowsky’s music, see Weinmann, Verzeichnis der Verlagswerke des
Musikalischen Magazins, 27 and passim.
6 9 WB, Tue, 17 Feb 1784, 32.
7 0 On Schlemmer, see Alan Tyson, “Notes on Five of Beethoven’s Copyists,”
Journal o f the American Musicological Society 23 (1970): 439-71.
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98
Mozart’s Viennese copyists, whom I shall call Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1, may in fact be
that of Johann Traeg. In Chapter 8 1 shall attempt a tentative identification of the hand of
Jakob Klein.
It is often suggested that professional Viennese copyists were, for the most part,
moonlighting musicians, and we can see from the preceding discussion that many music
copyists were, in fact, also performing musicians. However, it seems likely that about
half of the named copyists depended on music copying as their principal or sole means of
earning a living, and they did not earn any significant amounts of money as performing
musicians. Music copyists such as Joseph Arthofer, Johann Radnitzky, Peter Rampl,
Franz Xaver Riersch, Johann Schmutzer, and Johann Traeg are not known to have
worked as performing musicians. The same is true of several other well-known copyists,
including Haydn’s Johann Schellinger and Johann ElBler, and Beethoven’s Wenzel
Schlemmer.
Little is known about the internal organization of larger music copying businesses,
such as those run by Lausch, Sukowaty, and Traeg. It is evident, however, that some
materials created by these men, especially large projects, such as opera scores and sets of
opera parts, were usually collaborative efforts of many different copyists—in the case of
Sukowaty’s shop, sometimes as many as fifteen or more. We cannot assume that all of
the copyists involved in these projects were formally employed by the contracting or
supervising copyist. It may be, for example, that Lausch, Sukowaty, and Traeg enlisted
unpaid family members (not excluding wives and daughters) to help with copying. There
is, at present, no evidence that they did so, but there is likewise no evidence to rule it out.
From an eighteenth-century point of view, it would have made good economic sense.
We do know of several cases in which music copying seems to have been a family
trade. Perhaps the best-known family of this sort in the neighborhood of Vienna were the
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99
Elfilers: Joseph Sr., Joseph Jr., and Johann.7 1 There were undoubtedly similar families.
Franz Pischelberger and his son Friedrich, both double bassists in Viennese theater
orchestras, were both active as copyists.7 2 Peter Radnitzky in Table 2.1 was the brother
of Johann Radnitzky (on the Radnitzkys, see Chapter 8). The copyist Wenzel Rampl,
who sometimes worked for Beethoven, was the son of the Haydn copyist Peter Rampl
(about whom see Chapter S).7 3 A few decades earlier, Theresia ZiB (“Zissin”) had carried
on as one of the chief copyists of the Viennese court theater after the death of her
husband, the copyist Johann Andreas, in 1755.7 4 Similarly, the copying firm of Lorenz
Lausch seems to have been carried on after his death in 1794, perhaps by members of his
family.
We should also keep in mind the possibility that members of a composer’s family
may sometimes have copied; for example, perhaps Constanze Mozart sometimes copied
for her husband. We know that she had some degree of musical training and that she was
literate. So perhaps Mozart used her as a copyist when, for example, he was rushing to
prepare parts for one of his own concerts.7 3 We also know that Mozart’s sister, Maria
Anna (“Nanneri”) sometimes copied music: for example, the manuscript sources for
7 1 On the Elfilers, see the literature cited in n. 32.
7 2 On Franz Pischelberger, see Gericke, Der Wiener Musikalienhandel, 102-3.
Gericke gives the name as “Bischeiberger.” He died in 1774 at the age of 63, and was
thus bom in 1710 or 1711. On Friedrich Pischelberger, see Fisher, “Haydn’s
Overtures,” 459-68.
7 3 Both Rampls are said by Alan Tyson to have been copyists in the court theater in
Vienna; see his “Beethoven’s Copyists,” 450-52. He does not give evidence for this
statement.
7 4 On Theresia ZiB, see Bruce Alan Brown, Gluck and the French Theater in Vienna
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 92-94.
7 3 See, later on in this chapter, Joachim Daniel Preisler’s reference to Constanze
cutting quills for the copyist during his visit to the Mozarts on 24 Aug 1788.
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100
Mozart’s concertos K. 271, K. 449, and K. 451 in the archive of the Abbey of S t Peter’s
in Salzburg are in her hand.7 6
In a sense, Mozart’s sister belongs to the class of “amateur” music copyists—that
is, musicians (often extremely well-trained ones) who did not copy music for a living, but
copied music for their own use or the use of others. Amateur musical hands tend to be
differentiated horn professional ones in that they generally have a less practiced
appearance, and sometimes show a more awkward or less well-planned layout than
professional copies. Musical symbols may be somewhat tentative or unusually designed,
and the symbols may exhibit the tremor, smudges, or sloppily made corrections of an
unpracticed hand.
Similarly, the musical hand of a composer did not normally need to have the clarity,
regularity, and precision typical of the hand of a professional music copyist.
A composer’s handwriting was usually intended to be interpreted only by professional
copyists or engravers, not professional or amateur performers. Thus a composer’s hand
might be irregular or even sloppy in appearance (one thinks, for example, of Beethoven’s
musical handwriting). Often the musical symbols made by a composer were much
smaller and more closely spaced than those written by a professional copyist.
Where were copies created?
Historians of eighteenth-century music often write of “copy shops,” as if the
existence of such places were well established.7 7 However, as I have pointed out earlier
in this chapter, such “shops” are very often merely convenient fictions. To cite just one
7 6 On the hand of Maria Anna Mozart, see Plath, “Zur Echtheitsfrage,” 25.
7 7 For example, in Chpt. 1 we have already seen a reference to “Schreibstuben,” in
a passage cited from the preface to K6.
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101
representative example: Ernst Fritz Schmid, in discussing sets of parts in the Benedictine
abbey of Melk for Mozart’s concertos K. 175, K. 453, K. 503, and K. 595, claims that
these are “early copies from a Viennese copyist bureau” (“Schreiberkanzelei”)-7 8 Whether
or not these copies are, in fact, Viennese (they may be, though they probably date from
around 1800, and are thus not notably “early”), Schmid offers no evidence that they come
from some sort of “bureau” or “shop.”7 9 Similarly, A. Peter Brown speaks of the “shop”
of the music copyist Simon Haschke, who advertised in the Wiener Zeitung in the 1770s,
and also of the “shops” of other Viennese copyists, such as Joseph Haroidt.8 0 But we
actually know nothing about the organization of Haschke’s copying business; we know
merely that he gives an address in his advertisements, “in den 3. Htiten zu Mariatrost” (in
Mariatrost at [the sign of] the 3 Hats).8 1 We cannot assume on this basis alone that he
had a music scriptorium at that address, which was, in any case, his home: the same
address appears in the Totenbeschauprotokoll in the record of his death on 15 August
1776.
The assumption that Viennese copyists had “shops” may lead to the (perhaps)
unwarranted notion that, say, Johann Traeg’s copying business must have included
a large room in which copyists worked under his diligent and critical eye. We may thus
also be led to assume that this hypothetical room was fronted by a shop, in which
customers could examine music, place or pick up their orders, and browse. Although
7 8 Ernst Fritz Schmid, “Neue Quellen zu Werken Mozarts,” in Mozart-Jahrbuch
1956 (Salzburg, 1957), 40. The shelf marks of these sources are as follows (all A-M):
K. 175 = IV 294; K. 453 = IV 297; K. 503 = IV 296; K. 595 = IV 295.
7 9 On the Melk parts, see my “Manuscript Parts as Evidence of Orchestral Size in
the Eighteenth-Century Viennese Concerto,” 439-40, and n. 44.
8 0 See Brown, “Viennese Copyists,” esp. the discussion of Haschke on 327-30,
and the discussion of Haroidt on 333-38.
8 1 On Haschke, see Gericke, D er Wiener Musikalienhandel, 104-5.
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102
such a scenario cannot be ruled out, neither can it be assumed, and there is little, if any,
evidence to support it in most cases. Traeg may, in contrast, have subcontracted free
lance copyists, who may have taken Vorlagen away with them to copy at home, or
wherever they saw fit.8 2
In Chapter 1 we saw that Charles Burney reported being “plagued with copyists” at
his lodgings on the evening before his departure. In other words, music copyists came to
him, he did not go to them. Indeed, Burney had earlier noted that the inhabitants of
Vienna
. . . do not, as elsewhere, go to the shops to make purchases; but the
shops are brought to them; there was literally a fair, at the inn where
I lodged, every day. The trades-people seem to sell nothing at home,
but, like hawkers and pedlars, carry their goods from house to
house. . .8 3
Could music copyists have done business in a similar way? Even allowing for distortions
and misunderstandings in Burney’s account owing to his relatively brief stay in Vienna
(two weeks, from 30 August to 13 September 1772), his description merits serious
attention, for we have almost no other direct reports of the ways in which Viennese music
copyists went about their business.
As we have seen in the first chapter, Bumey spoke of “applying to copyists.” How
might this have been done, and how might the transaction have been arranged and carried
out? One of the principal economic advantages of music copying over music publishing
8 2 See, for example, Stephen C. Fisher and Bertil H. van Boer, “A Viennese Music
Copyist and His Role in the Distribution of Haydn’s Works,” Haydn-Studien 6, no. 2
(1988): 163-68. Fisher and van Boer suggest that the copyist they identify as
Silverstolpe A may have subcontracted with Traeg (on Silverstolpe A, see also below,
Chpt. 7).
8 3 Charles Bumey, An Eighteenth-Century Musical Tour in Central Europe and the
Netherlands, ed. Percy A. Scholes, vol. 2 of Dr. Burney's Musical Tours in Europe
(London: Oxford University Press, 1959), 73.
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was that a commercial music copyist would never be overstocked and would rarely have
unsold inventory.8 4 Music was copied to order. However, the copying of music to order
implies that customers did not “shop” for music in the modem sense. One can imagine
that Bumey may have applied to copyists in person, or perhaps by letter or through an
intermediary, in order to request copies of particular pieces. Perhaps, on the other hand,
the copyists came to him, took orders, and later delivered finished copies to him. It
seems unlikely, at any rate, that the copyists who “plagued” Bumey on the evening of
13 September 1772 brought with them finished but unsolicited copies as a speculative
venture in an attempt to sell them directly to Bumey, although it is not impossible that
they may have done so. More likely, they were attempting to drum up last-minute orders
that could be forwarded to him later on, and they may simply have described their
offerings, or shown him their master copies.
True, some copyists seem to have worked out of their homes. Indeed, I was able to
identify the handwriting and identity of Joseph Arthofer precisely because he wrote his
home address, “ 1107 Neumarkt,” at the end of one of the manuscripts in his
hand—a keyboard part for Mozart’s concerto K. 415 (see Chapter 5).8 5 Furthermore,
Arthofer’s one known advertisement, published in the Wiener Zeitung on 9 November
1793, invites customers to apply to him at the address 1108 on Neuer Markt, the house
adjacent to 1107; as we shall see, Arthofer and his family had moved into 1108 by 1793,
8 4 On the other hand, Gertraut Haberkamp points out that a music publisher who
used engraved plates did not need to produce large print runs, since the plates could be
stored and reused at any time in order to print new copies as needed: “Uberdies war eine
einmalige und hohe Aiiflage nicht notwendig, da die Platten gelagert und je nach Bedarf
und Nachfrage von ihnen neue Abztige gemacht werden konnten” (“Moreover a single
large print run was unnecessary, since the plates could be stored, and new copies could
be made according to need and demand”). See Gertraut Haberkamp, Die Erstdrucke der
Werke von Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, 2 vols., Musikbibliographische Arbeiten, ed.
Rudolf Elvers (Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1986), vol. 1, 26.
8 5 On this manuscript, see my “Recent Discoveries,” 51-55, and below, Chpt. 5.
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104
so Arthofer’s advertisement implies that his copying business was still based in his
apartment8 6 However, we must not assume, on this account that Arthofer worked at
home all of the time or even most of it His principal steady positions, as copyist of the
imperial ballet and chief copyist for the Viennese TonkUnstler-Societat may have required
him to do his copying elsewhere.
In his Skizze von Wien of 1786, Johann Pezzl wrote that music copyists and similar
poor but skilled artisans in Vienna often lived in inexpensive attic apartments that offered
sufficient light for them to carry out their work:
In den hdchsten Regionen der Stadt, in den Dachstuben und unter den
Dachboden, nisten die armem Gattungen der Schneider, Kopisten,
Vergolder, Notenschreiber, Bildschnizer, Maler, etc. die zu ihren
Arbeiten vieles und bestSndiges Licht ndthig haben. Diese Dachstuben
wimmeln oft von ganzen Heerden von Kindem, die durch ihre Zahl und
ihre unaufhdrlichen BedQrfnisse den armen Vater oft eben so sehr
angstigen; als es den unten im pnichtigen zweiten Stokwerk wohnenden
reichen und vomehmen Mann Sngstiget, seiner Familie nicht einen
einzigen Erben verschaffen zu kbnnen.
In the loftiest regions of the city, in the garrets and attics, nest the poorer
species, the tailors, copyists, gilders, music copyists, wood carvers,
painters, etc., who require much and continual light for their work.
These garrets often teem with entire armies of children, who by their
number and their incessant needs often worry the poor father just as
greatly as it worries the rich and distinguished man below on the
splendid second floor not to be able to produce a single heir.8 7
If we compare the addresses given in the Totenbeschauprotokoll with the addresses
given in advertisements, it may be possible to determine whether a copyist’s business was
based in his home or in a separate shop. Johann Traeg’s earliest advertisements in the
Wiener Zeitung (10 August 1782 until 16 February 1785) give the address “im Pilatischen
8 6 A surviving plan of 1108 Neumarkt (see Fig. 5.6) suggests that Arthofer’s two-
room apartment was relatively small.
8 7 [Johann Pezzl], Skizze von Wien (Vienna and Leipzig: Kraus, 1786), 115-16.
I am grateful to Bruce Brown for bringing this passage to my attention.
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105
Haus auf dem Peter im ersten Stock” (in the Pilatisches house on Petersplatz in the first
floor).8 8 As we shall see in Chapter 7, the record of Traeg’s marriage on 17 February
1783 states that he had been living at this address for four years—in other words, from
1779. Thus from at least 1782 until the first months of 1785, Traeg ran his music
copying business out of his home.
On 30 April 1785, Traeg announced that, as of 10 May, copies could be had from
him “auf dem hohen Markt Nr. 423 das Eckhaus der Wipplinger Strasse, wo das
Glasgewolb ist im 4ten Stock. . . ” (on the Hoher Markt No. 423, the comer house on
Wipplinger Strasse, where the glass shop is, on the 4th floor).8 9 This address, found in
all but one of Traeg’s advertisements in the Wiener Zeitung up to and including 18 June
1788, seems to have been his home; at any rate, the Totenbeschauprotokoll includes
entries for Traeg’s children whose bodies were examined at this address on 1 July 1786
and 30 April 1788.9 0
8 8 For Traeg’s advertisements, see Weinmann, Anzeigen, 15 and ff. For corrected
texts of Traeg’s advertisements that offer works by Mozart, see Chpt. 7, Tables 7.2 and
7.7. The “Pilatisches Haus” was number 552. This house was quite near to number
554, the house in which Sukowaty lived from the end of 1784. On 27 Sep 1783, Traeg
placed advertisements in both the Wiener Zeitung and Das Wienerblattchen giving his
address as “im EBigmacherischen Haus Nr. 654 im ersten Stock.” This relocation, if
such it was, seems only to have been temporary, and his next advertisement in the Wiener
Zeitung on 14 Jan 1784 again gives the “Pilatisches Haus,” although it also notes that
copies can be had from him “bey Loschenkohl am Kohlmarkt”
8 9 WZ, Sat 30 Apr 1785, No. 35, 1022, transcribed in Weinmann, Anzeigen, 20.
In Austrian usage, the word “Gewdlb” could mean “shop.”
9 0 Traeg’s advertisement of 28 Feb 1787 gives the address “. . . Nr. 444 am
Salzgries im ersten Stock” (WZ, Wed, 28 Feb 1787, No. 17,469, transcribed in
Weinmann, Anzeigen, 24). This is, interestingly, just a few houses away from the
residence of Lorenz Lausch, Salzgries 448. However, Traeg’s next advertisement in the
WZ on 17 Oct 1787 states; “Johann Traeg macht zu wissen, dafi er wieder am hohen
Markt Nr. 423 im vierten Stock wohnt” (“Johann Traeg makes known that he again
resides at Hoher Markt No. 423 on the fourth floor”; WZ, Wed, 17 Oct 1787, No. 83,
2527, transcribed in Weinmann, Anzeigen, 24).
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106
On 16 May 1789, Traeg’s advertisement in the Wiener Zeitung announced that he
was opening a music shop (“Musikaliengewdlb”) in the Singerstrafie:
Johann Traeg hat die Ehre den Gonnem und Liebhabem der Musik
hiemit bekannt zu machen, daB er in der Singerstrafie Nr. 863 der
Apotheke gegenUber ein Musikaliengewdlb eroffnet h at. . .
Johann Traeg has the honor hereby to inform patrons and lovers of
music that he has opened a music shop in the Singerstrafie No. 863,
across from the apothecary.. 9 1
All of Traeg’s advertisements up to and including 18 December 1793 list this address.
That it was not Traeg’s residence seems certain; the three entries referring to Traeg in the
Totenbeschauprotokoll during this period give the address Wieden 255.9 2 Traeg’s
advertisements from 19 February 1794 to 19 August 1795 give the address of his shop as
“Singerstrasse Nr. 933,” suggesting that Traeg had moved to a nearby location in the
same street. From 7 October 1795, his address is given as “Singerstrasse Nr. 957,”
which merely represents a renumbering of the same house, as part of a city-wide
renumbering that year. Thus from 1789, Traeg ran a music shop that was separate from
his residence. However, we still cannot assume that Traeg necessarily had all copying
done in his shop—he very well may have contracted some of it out, and he might also still
have done some of his copying at home.
One of Wenzel Sukowaty’s typical advertisements in the Wiener Zeitung, on
12 February 1785, begins as follows:
Musikanzeige.
Bey Wenzel Sukowaty, Hoftheatralkopist, wohnhaft am Petersplatz im
Mazischen Hause Nr. 554 im dritten Stock im Hof, sind folgende
Musikalien gegen Bestellung um billigen Preis zu haben. Sie werden
sauber und korrekt geschrieben, und zum geschwindesten geliefert. . .
9 1 WZ, Sat, 26 May 1789, No. 39, 1256, transcribed in Weinmann, Anzeigen, 26.
9 2 Entries in the Totenbeschauprotokoll for 10 Aug 1791, 15 Jun 1792, and 28 Apr
1793.
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107
Music Advertisement
From Wenzel Sukowaty, Copyist of the Court Theater, residing on
Petersplatz in the Mazisches Haus No. 554 in the third floor on the
court, the following pieces of music can be ordered for a low price.
They will be cleanly and correctly written, and delivered as quickly as
possible.. 9 3
Sukowaty makes clear through the use of the word “wohnhaft” that this is his residence;
the advertisement also confirms that music had to be ordered ahead of time and may imply
that the finished copies were delivered (the word “geliefert” is, however, ambiguous in
this regard, as it may simply imply that the copies would be ready “to be delivered up” to
the customer as quickly as possible).
As we shall see in Chapter 9, Sukowaty resided at this same address in the same
apartment from 1784 until his death in 1810, and he seems to have used this as his
commercial address during the entire period. The number 554 on Petersplatz (614 after
the renumbering in 1795) appears in all of Sukowaty's known advertisements, and also
on the title pages of many of his surviving commercial copies. Figure 2.1 shows
a facsimile of one such title page, an aria (attributed to “Sig:rc Bach”) from Steven
Storace’s opera Gli equivoci, which had its world premiere in the Viennese court theater
on 27 December 1786.9 4 Sukowaty’s “imprint” at the bottom of the title page reads
(somewhat ungrammatically) “Wienn zu haben bey Wenzel Sukowaty Hof Theatral
Copist I am Peters Plaz in Mazischen HauB N:° 554. im Hof in dritten Stock” (‘To be had
in Vienna from Wenzel Sukowaty, Copyist of the Court Theater, on Petersplatz in the
Mazisches Haus No. 554 on the court on the third floor”).
We probably ought not to assume, however, that Sukowaty and his assistants did
all of their copying in his home. He may, for example, have contracted out portions of
9 3 WZ, Sat, 12 Feb 1785, No. 13, 338.
9 4 The manuscript is in CZ-Pnm, VH.A.69. I am grateful to Richard Platt for
providing me with this facsimile.
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a i'iiuLL’ acj
au e.it. -ztn r
Figure 2.1. Title page of a score copy of an aria (attributed to “Sig:r c Bach”) from Steven Storace’s
opera Gli equivoci, showing Sukowaty’s imprint. CZ-Pnm, VI1.A.69.
109
his commercial orders to independent copyists. It is also possible that the court theater
had its own copy shop, where Sukowaty and his assistants may have prepared
performing materials for use in the theater. In fact, a surviving nineteenth-century plan
stemming from materials belonging to the Viennese court theater shows a small room
designated “zur Copiatur und das Musick-Archiv neu zugerichtete LocalitSt” (“the new
area prepared for copying and the music archive”)-9 3 At any rate, it seems reasonable to
assume that the performing scores and parts used by the theater were stored at the theater
rather than at Sukowaty’s home, although the latter possibility cannot be ruled out (as we
shall see in Chapter 9, Sukowaty almost certainly used the theater’s performing scores as
the Vorlagen for his commercial copies; see also the discussion at the end of the present
chapter).
Lorenz Lausch seems to have been the first advertising music copyist in Vienna to
have had a shop separate from his home. What seems to have been Lausch’s very first
advertisement appeared in the Wiener Zeitung on 27 March 1782. This advertisement
gives the address Salzgries 448, which we know from entries in the Totenbeschau
protokoll to have been Lausch’s residence at that time.96 By 1783, however, he had
9 3 Vienna, Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek, Graphische Sammlung, Baupldne,
Burgtheater, Mappe 28.
9 6 According to Alexander Weinmann, the advertisement of 27 Mar 1782 was
Lausch’s first; see Weinmann, Wiener Musikverleger und Musikalienhdndler von Mozarts
Zeit bis gegen I860. Ein firmengeschichtlicher und topographischer Behelf \
Verdffentlichungen der (Commission fur Musikforschung, ed. Erich Schenk, Heft 2,
Osterreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften, philosophisch-historische Klasse,
Sitzungsberichte, vol. 230, Abhandlung 4 (Vienna: In Kommission bei Rudolf M.
Rohrer, 19S6), 24-25. Weinmann writes that “Laurenz Lausch diirfte um 1781 mit einer
Noten-Kopieranstalt am Salzgries 4481 (2l2/213n), 2. Stock begonnen haben.” His only
evidence for this statement seems to be the advertisement of 27 Mar 1782. The
Schwarzenberg archive preserves a receipt signed by Lausch for the copying of four,
symphonies, and dated 7 Jul 1780 (Oesky Krumlov, Schwarzenberg Zentralkassa [UP]
IIIB 3b/l 1, 1780, No. 512). This receipt suggests that Lausch’s activities as
a commercial copyist started somewhat earlier than Weinmann assumed.
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n o
opened a separate shop: an advertisement in the Wiener Zeitung on 7 September 1783,
gives his business address as K&mtnerstraBe 933 “nachst dem Stock am Eisen” (“next to
Stock-am-Eisen Platz”).9 7 In contrast, all entries referring to Lausch in the Viennese
Totenbeschauprotokoll up to 1794 (regarding the deaths of two children in 1785, one in
1788, another in 1794, and Lausch’s own death in 1794) continue to give his address as
Salzgries 448.
All of Lausch’s advertisements up to and including 8 April 1784 give his business
address as KamtnerstraBe 933 (or simply “in the KamtnerstraBe”). From 2 July 1784,
Lausch gives the address of his shop as .. in der KMmthnerstrasse Nro. 1085. den
3 weiBen Rosen gegeniiber” (“in the KamtnerstraBe, No. 1085, across from the 3 White
Roses”).9 8 From 9 June 1790, his business address is given as Weihburggasse No. 959,
“dem Geigenmacher gegeniiber” (“across from the fiddle-maker”); this building received
the new number 998 in 1795."
Lausch’s addresses are sufficiently well documented that we can be certain that he
did not run his copying business out of his home. Some of his advertisements (for
example, one in Das Wienerblattchen on 14 October 1784) refer explicitly to the
“Lauschische Musikalien=Handlung” (Lausch’s Music Store).1 0 0 Even in this case,
9 7 Weinmann (Wiener Musikverleger und Musikalienhdndler, 24) cites an
advertisement in the Wiener Zeitung with this address on 13 Aug 1783.
9 8 This form of the address is taken from Lausch’s advertisement in Das
Wienerblattchen, Thu, 8 Jul 1784. Weinmann notes an advertisement in the Wiener
Zeitung on Sat, 10 Jul 1784 as the first to give the new address (Wiener Musikverleger
und Musikalienhdndler, 24; Weinmann gives “neben den drei weiBen Raben”).
9 9 See Weinmann, Wiener Musikverleger und Musikalienhdndler, 24, citing an
advertisement in the Wiener Zeitung on that date. Weinmann notes that the address
“Weihburggasse 989” in an advertisement of 4 Jan 1797 is probably a misprint.
Weinmann does not note Lausch’s own death in 1794, and thus appears not to realize that
the firm must have been carried on by someone else. Weinmann states that the last of the
firm’s advertisements appeared on 12 Apr 1800.
1 0 0 WB, Thu, 14 Oct 1784,402.
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Ill
however, we cannot assume that the copyists who worked for Lausch did their copying in
his shop. They may have done so, but the known documentary evidence is insufficient to
decide one way or the other.
As we have seen, many music copyists mentioned in the death records seem never
to have advertised. Many of these copyists were probably independent, perhaps soliciting
business privately, and subcontracting with Sukowaty, Lausch, Traeg, or Kaspar WeiB
as opportunities for work presented themselves.1 0 1 Where did these copyists do their
copying?
An anecdote in Gerhard von Breuning’s memoirs of Beethoven may perhaps give
us some idea of the conditions under which independent copyists worked:
Beethoven’s Copist durch 30 Jahre war Schlemmer. Es war das
Copiren seiner Manuscripte eine schwierige Arbeit, und nur wenige
konnte ihr gerecht werden. Schlemmer wohnte am Graben, unweit des
Kohlmarktes, in dem Hintertracte eines Hauses. Er hatte geschulte
Unterarbeiter, und namentlich unter diesen einen langjahrigen, welcher
im Fischhofe (dann Galvagni= jetzt Ankerhof) am Hohen Markte, wie
meine Mutter erzahlte, in einem diisteren Nagelschmiedgewdlbe unter
dem Durchgangsthore seine Copien gemacht haben soil.
Schlemmer was Beethoven’s copyist for thirty years. Copying his
manuscripts was difficult work, and only a few could do them justice.
Schlemmer lived on the Graben, not far from Kohlmarkt, in the rear
wing of a house. He had trained assistants, and among them one in
particular of many years’ standing, who is said, as my mother told it, to
have made his copies in the Fischhof (then the Galvagni- and now the
Ankerhof) on the Hoher Markt, in a gloomy nailsmith’s shop under the
passage door.1 0 2
1 0 1 A. Peter Brown has also suggested that copyists may have contracted
individually, possibly with several shops at once; he writes: “However, it should not be
assumed that these men or women worked exclusively for Lausch; probably many of
these scribes operated in a free-lance manner, contracting for individual assignments from
several firms at the same time, and many seem to have been musicians themselves,
supplementing their income by copying.” See Brown, “Viennese Copyists,” 333.
1 0 2 Gerhard von Breuning, A us dem Schwarzspanierhause. Erinnerungen an
L van Beethoven aus seiner Jugendzeit, Neudruck, mit ErgSnzungen und Erlhuterungen
von Dr. Alfr. Chr. Kalischer (Berlin and Leipzig: Schuster & Loeffler, 1907), 77. My
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112
Copyists must also have hired themselves out to composers and other individuals.
In such cases, copying may have taken place at the residence of the person who employed
the copyist As I have already pointed out in Chapter 1, Mozart’s employment of
Viennese copyists is occasionally reflected either directly or indirectly in the
correspondence of the Mozart family. For example, in a letter to his father of 15 May
1784, Mozart wrote:
Mon tres cher Pere!—
Ich habe heute dem Postwagen die Sinfonie so ich in Linz dem alten
Graf Thun gemacht habe, sammt 4 Concerten mitgegeben; — wegen der
Sinfonie bin ich nicht heicklich, allein die 4 concede bitte ich |: bey sich
im hause abschreiben zu lassen :| denn es ist den kopisten in Salzburg so
wenig zu trauen, als den in Wienn; — ich weis ganz zuverlassig, daB
Hofstetter des Haydn Musique dopelt copied — ich habe seine Neuesten
3 Sinfonien wirklich. — da nun diese Neue Conceden die ex B und D
niemand als ich — die ex Eb und G niemand als ich und frl. von Ployer
|: fiir welche sie geschrieben worden :| besitzt, so kbnnten sie nicht
anderst als dutch solchen betrug in andere hande kommen; — ich selbst
lasse alles in meinem zimmer und in meiner gegenwart abschreiben; —
dem Menzl habe die Musique |: nach meiner Uberlegung :| nicht
anvertrauen wollen;. . .
Mon tres cher Pere!—
Today I sent along with the postwagon the symphony that I wrote in
Linz for old Count Thun, along with 4 concedos;—as for the symphony
I’m not fussy, but the 4 concertos, I ask |: to have copied at home in
your house:], for the copyists in Salzburg are as little to be trusted as
those in Vienna;—I know completely reliably that Hofstetter double
copies [Michael] Haydn’s music — Im fact have his most recent
3 symphonies. — Since no one other than I possesses the new
concedos in B-flat and D, and no one other than I and FrSulein von
translation. This passage is also given, in a different and less correct translation, in
Breuning, Memories o f Beethoven: From the House o f the Black-Robed Spaniards, ed.
Maynard Solomon, trans. Henry Mins and Maynard Solomon (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1992), 55. In particular, Mins and Solomon have mistranslated
“Nagelschmiedgewdlbe” as “nailmaker’s arch.” “Gewolb” is an Austrian term for
“shop.” The passage is also cited in Tyson, “Beethoven’s Copyists,” 441. Tyson’s
translation is likewise not entirely accurate: “He [Beethoven’s copyist Wenzel
Schlemmer] had trained men working under him; one of these, I learned from my mother,
was an old fellow who did his copying in the Fischhof (it was then the Galvagnihof) in
the Hoher Markt, in the gloomy warehouse of a nailsmith, by the passage door.”
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113
Ployer (for whom they were written) those in E-flat and G, they
therefore could not have come into the hands of others except through
such betrayal — I myself have everything copied in my room and in my
presence. I did not |: after considering it want to trust Menzl with the
music.1 0 3
It should be kept in mind that Wolfgang was perhaps going out of his way to impress
Leopold that he was dealing responsibly and sensibly with potentially dishonest copyists,
something Leopold may have been inclined to doubt. Nevertheless, we can see that
Mozart probably (at least at this point) had copyists come to his apartment to work. The
letter also implies, of course, that Barbara Ployer once had manuscript copies of the
concertos in E-flat and G— K. 449 and K. 453—in her possession. No such copies are
known to survive.
Leopold Mozart’s first letter to his daughter after arriving in Vienna to visit
Wolfgang in 1785 also mentions a copyist. Leopold writes that upon his arrival, he
found a copyist still finishing the parts for a concerto (the Piano Concerto in D minor,
K. 466), the premiere of which was to take place that evening:
. . . den ndmlichen Freytag abends fuhren wir um 6 uhr in sein erstes
subscriptions Concert, wo eine groBe versamlung von Menschen von
Rang war. iede Person zahlt fttr die 6 Fastenconcert einen Souvrin d’or
oder 3 Dugatten. Es is auf der Mehlgrube, er zahlt fur den Saal iedesmal
nur einen halben Souvrin d ’ or. Das Concert war unvergleichlich, das
Orchester vortrefflich, auBer den Synfonien sang eine Sdngerin vom
welschen Theater 2 Arien. dan war ein neues vortreffliches Clavier
Concert vom Wolfgang, wo der Copist, da wir ankamen noch daran
abschrieb, und dein Bruder das Rondeau noch nicht einmahl
durchzuspielen Zeit hatte, weil er die Copiatur ubersehen mufite.
1 0 3 MBA, IU/313-14. This passage is also cited (in a slightly different translation)
in Cliff Eisen, “Sources for Mozart’s Life and Works,” in The Mozart Compendium:
A Guide to Mozart's Life and Music, ed. H. C. Robbins Landon (New York: Schirmer
Books, A Division of Macmillan, Inc., 1990), 160-90 and 201-4, here 177 and 179. The
symphony for Count Thun was the “Linz,” K. 425, the autograph of which is lost. The
four concertos were those in B-flat, K. 450, and D, K. 451, and (for Barbara Ployer),
those in E-flat, K. 449, and G, K. 453.
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114
The same Friday evening [11 February, the day of Leopold’s arrival] we
drove at 6 o’clock to his first subscription concert, where there was
a great assembly of people of rank. Each person paid a souverain d’or,
or 3 ducats, for the 6 Lenten concerts. It is in the Mehlgrube; he pays
only a half souverain d ’ or each time for the hall. The concert was
incomparable, the orchestra splendid; apart from the symphonies,
a female singer from the Italian theater sang 2 arias. Then there was
a new splendid keyboard concerto by Wolfgang, which the copyist was
still writing down when we arrived, and your brother had not even yet
had time to play through the Rondeau, because he had to look over the
copying.1 0 *
This is hardly more informative about Mozart’s dealings with Viennese copyists than
Wolfgang’s own letters, but it does seem to indicate that Wolfgang may have employed
only a single copyist to prepare the parts, and that he was, at least at this time, still taking
care to check over that copyist’s work. It is unclear exactly where this copying was
taking place—Leopold’s phrase “when we arrived” seems to imply that he is referring to
their arrival at the theater. However, it is not out of the question that he may have meant
to refer to his arrival at Mozart’s apartment, and that this is where the copying was being
done. Unfortunately, the performing parts alluded to in the letter are not known to
survive.
In contradiction to Mozart’s own claim that he carefully supervised his copyists,
Mozart’s sister suggested, in a letter written to Breitkopf & H&rtel in 1799, that he left his
manuscripts in disarray under the piano, and that the copyists could help themselves to
whatever they wanted. In the letter, she expresses her regret that she did not retain more
of the scores of Mozart’s early works after Leopold’s death:
. . . da ich hingegen von sicherer Hand, und von einem Augenzeiig
erfahren habe, daB seine Sparten bey ihme nur immer unter dem Clavier
herum lagen, und die Copisten davon nehmen konnten was sie nur
wollten . . .
1 0 4 MBA, IH/372-73, letter of 16 Feb 1785. Although it would be tempting here to
translate “iibersehen” as “to oversee,” the words are false cognates. Modem German for
“to oversee” is “beaufsichtigen” or “uberwachen.”
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115
. . . since I have heard, on the other hand, on good authority and from an
eye-witness that his scores always lay scattered under the keyboard at home,
and the copyists could take from them whatever they wanted.. .l0 S
This should probably be taken with a grain of salt, since Maria Anna’s bitterness and her
disapproval of Wolfgang’s life in Vienna is evident in many of her letters. Nevertheless,
as Cliff Eisen has suggested, snch an arrangement, with copyists helping themselves to
scores as required, was similar to the way that the Mozart family dealt with their trusted
copyists in Salzburg.
We also have a second-hand report implying that Mozart was having copying done
in his home. Joachim Daniel Preisler wrote in his Journal over en Rejse igiennen
Frankerige og Tydskland i Aaret 1788 (Copenhagen, 1789) of a visit to the Mozart
household on Sunday, 24 August 1788:
In the afternoon, Junger, Lange, and Werner picked us up to go to
Kapellmeister Mozart’s. There I experienced the happiest hour of music
that was ever granted me. This little man and great master improvised
twice on a pedal Fliigel, so wonderfully! so wonderfully! that I did not
know where I was. The most difficult passages and the loveliest themes
were woven amongst one another. — His wife cut quill pens for the
copyist, a student composed, a little lad of four years went around the
garden and sang recitatives; in short: everything around the marvelous
man was musical.1 0 6
1 0 5 MBA, IV/259,4 Aug 1799. Also cited in Eisen, “Sources for Mozart’s Life and
Works,” 179. Eisen’s translation, “. . . the copyists could take them as needed . . . ”
seems to imply that Mozart exercised some control over the situation, but the
disapproving tone of Nanneri’s original seems clearly meant to suggest his
irresponsibility and the chaos in which she believed his manuscripts to have been kept.
1 0 6 Cited in Deutsch, Dokumente, 285. “Am Nachmittag holten uns Jiinger, Lange
und Werner ab, zum Kapellmeister Mozardt zu gehen. Dort erlebte ich die glucklichste
Stunde Musik, die mir je beschieden war. Dieser kleine Mann und grosse Meister
phantasierte zweimal auf einem Pedal-Fliigel, so wundervoll! so wundervoll! dass ich
nicht wusste, wo ich war. Die schwierigsten Passagen und die lieblichsten Themen
ineinander verwoben. — Seine Frau schnitt Kielfedem ftir den Notenschreiber, ein
Schuler komponierte, ein kleiner Knabe von vier Jahren ging im Garten herum und sang
Rezitative, kurz: alles um den herrlichen Mann war m usikalischl. . . ” My translation,
from the German given in Deutsch. Preisler’s Danish original is printed in Deutsch,
Dokumente, 515.
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116
This passage implies that a copyist was present or was expected to be arriving soon;
otherwise, Constanze would have had no reason to cut quills. It is striking that Preisler’s
visit falls quite close to the date of the completion of the “Jupiter” Symphony, K. 551 .
Mozart entered this work in his Verzeichniifi under the date 10 August 1788, and it was
the only substantial work that he completed within a month on either side of Preisler’s
visit. So perhaps Constanze was preparing quills for the copyist to prepare performing
parts for the “Jupiter'’ Symphony.1 0 7
Organization of labor
As we have seen, the principal advantage, economically, of hand-copied music over
printed music was that manuscript copies were almost never overstocked or unsold.
Manuscript music was created and sold to order. However, such “bespoke” copying (as
we might call it) obviously did not provide secure and steady employment for the copyists
involved in producing it. It would not have made economic sense for Sukowaty, Traeg,
or Lausch to retain their assistants on salary. Demand for manuscript music must have
fluctuated, sometimes radically, and probably also seasonally. Even the demand for
Sukowaty’s services as music copyist for the court theaters varied considerably from year
to year. In the theatrical season 1785-86, for example, Sukowaty was paid 2142 gulden
16 kreuzer on sixteen invoices, in a season that included the world premieres of nine
1 0 7 Neal Zaslaw likewise draws a tentative connection between Preisler’s
description and Mozart’s last three symphonies; see his “Audiences for Mozart’s
Symphonies during His Lifetime,” in Festschrift Christoph-Hellmut Mahling zum 65.
Geburtstag, ed. Axel Beer, Kristina Pfarr, and Wolfgang Ruf, Mainzer Studien zur
Musikwissenschaft, vol. 37 (Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1997), 1579-94, here esp. 1590-
91. However, Zaslaw draws no explicit connection between Constanze’s quill cutting
and performances of the symphonies, merely implying that the passage has something to
do with K. 550. Mozart entered K. 550 into his Verzeichniifi on 25 Jul 1788, a month
before Preisler’s visit. For more on the last three symphonies and a discussion of a set of
manuscript parts for K. 550 that may have belonged to Mozart, see Chpt. 6.
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117
operas and Singspiele, and the Viennese premieres of six others.1 0 8 For world premieres
(that is, operas commissioned by the Viennese court theater and first performed there)
Sukowaty would have been required to provide a handwritten score for use in
performance (what I shall call the “performing score”), as well as handwritten orchestral
and vocal performing parts, with all necessary duplicates. For Viennese premieres, for
which full scores most likely had been acquired elsewhere, he would have been asked to
produce only the performing parts, plus scores and parts for insertions and modifications.
In the season 1789-90, on the other hand, at a time when theatrical productions
were scaled back because of the expense of the Turkish War, the court theater produced
only two world premieres (including Cosi fan tune), three Viennese premidres, and at
least five revivals of works previously produced in Vienna (including Le nozze di
Figaro). For that season, Sukowaty was paid only 919 gulden 48 kreuzer for ten items,
less than half of the total that he received in the season 1785-86.1 0 9
From 1778 until around 1796, Sukowaty was the only music copyist paid by the
court theaters for copying operas and Singspiele. All of the surviving full scores and
orchestral parts from his shop during that period are written in the hands of at least two.
108 Payments to Sukowaty for the season 1785-86 are found in HHStA, Hoftheater,
SR 22, page 68, item 215. These payments are transcribed in Appendix B, and
a hypothetical pairing of payments and productions is given in Table 9.5. The account
books specifies that thirteen payments were for copying Italian opera, and three for
copying German Singspiele. A payment of 131 fl. 8 kr. is probably related to a revival of
Salieri’s La fiera di Venezia, and two small payments must have been for incidental
copying of some kind. The other thirteen payments can all be linked to premieres (if one
assumes that two of the invoices each included two short works). For further analysis of
these payments, see Table 9.8.
i°9 Payments to Sukowaty for the season 1789-90 are found in the weekly ledger,
Vienna, Bibliothek des Osterreichischen Theatermuseums, M 4000 (see Appendix B).
The total of 919 fl. 48 kr. would have represented payment for 9198 Bogen (bifolia). See
my analysis of these payments in Table 9.2.
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118
and up to as many as fifteen or more different copyists. Sukowaty must himself have
been responsible for apportioning payment among his assistants: in effect, Sukowaty
was contracted by the court theaters and he in turn subcontracted his assistants (whether
he or his assistants had actual written contracts is unknown).
One suspects that Traeg, Lausch, and other Viennese copyists who used assistants
may have operated in a similar way. As we have seen earlier in this chapter, the
Schwarzenberg archive in Cesky Krumlov preserves several receipts signed by
Sukowaty, Lausch, Chample, and other music copyists. In all cases, these receipts are
made out to and signed by a single supervising copyist for the projects itemized on the
receipts, even though several assistants undoubtedly worked on many or most of these
projects. Stephen C. Fisher, in his investigation of the receipts of Viennese copyists in
the Oettingen-Wallerstein archive, has uncovered a similar pattern: payments were made
to and receipts were signed by a single supervising copyist, such as Franz Xaver Riersch,
Friedrich Pischelberger, or Johann Weiss. The surviving manuscripts that can be linked
to these payments were written by two or more hands.1 1 0
Assuming, then, that copyists such as Sukowaty, Traeg, and Lausch subcontracted
copyists as needed, how was this labor organized? Most importantly from the standpoint
of musical texts: to what degree was the copying supervised and checked? A fuller
attempt to answer these questions must await a close investigation of the manuscripts
themselves in later chapters, where I shall pay particular attention to the division of labor
1 1 0 Fisher, “Haydn’s Overtures,” Appendix C. See also Beethoven’s letter to
Hofrat Janos Kamer of 22 Sep 1807, asking that 20 gulden be deducted from the
copying fee for his Mass in C major and sent directly to him, as he had advanced this sum
to his copyist Wenzel Schlemmer, “to enable him to pay his clerks [Schreiber]”; cited in
Tyson, “Beethoven’s Copyists,” 441. The letter is also given in a different translation in
Donald W. MacArdle and Ludwig Misch, New Beethoven Letters (Norman: University
of Oklahoma Press, 1957), 43-44.
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119
in large projects, such as operas (see especially Chapter 9, on Sukowaty). However, it is
clear that assisting copyists at least sometimes worked elsewhere than in a room under the
direct supervision of the chief copyist—this is, it would seem, the implication of von
Breuning’s anecdote about Schlemmer’s assistant Copyists working/or a shop did not
always work in a shop.
Were professional music copyists trained? Did they have some sort of
apprenticeship system? The uniformity in layout and in the design of symbols in
Viennese copies, particularly those from Sukowaty’s shop, suggests the possibility of
standardized training of some sort.1 1 1 Copies from Sukowaty’s shop may seem, to the
untrained eye, so similar in general appearance, that scholars have sometimes been misled
into claiming that two manuscripts were written by the same hand, when careful analysis
shows they were not (see, for example, the discussion in Chapter 3 of Martin Staehelin’s
misidentification of the hands in two scores of Don Giovanni). However, the nature of
such training, if it in fact took place, remains speculative. As we shall see in Chapter 7,
the hands of the copyists associated with Johann Traeg show a great deal of variety,
suggesting that he did not make his assistants adhere to a house style.
Materials and Expenses
Viennese copyists were most often paid and most often charged by the “Bogen.”
Unfortunately, the precise meaning of this term as it was used by eighteenth-century
copyists and music dealers has remained unclear. Alan Tyson, writing in the introduction
to his catalogue of the watermarks in Mozart’s autographs, claims that a Bogen was
equivalent to a full sheet as it came from the paper-maker’s mold—thus, in the case of
1 1 1 A. Peter Brown has suggested that Viennese copyists may have had some sort
of system of apprenticeship; see “Viennese Copyists,” 327.
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120
music paper, it would have been equivalent, after the paper was folded and cut, to four
leaves comprising two bifolia, or eight pages. In Tyson’s introduction we read:
For paper upon which Mozart wrote, a Bogen consists in principle of
two bifolia or of four individual leaves; however, the concept “Bogen”
is very often falsely used for a “bifolium,” an error that is occasionally
met with in the Kochel Catalogue.1 1 2
Yet Tyson himself had not always held such a unilateral view. In his 1979 article on the
“Notenbuch” of Nannerl Mozart, for example, he acknowledged the potential ambiguity
o f“Bogen”:
The term Bogen is awkwardly ambiguous in German; it is sometimes
used to mean a large sheet of paper, and sometimes to mean a bifolium
(Doppelblatt, or two conjugate leaves), which in the Notenbuch’s paper
would be h a lf a sheet.1 1 3
He went on in the same paragraph to interpret the term “Bogen” as meaning bifolium in
the context of the “Notenbuch.” Furthermore, it must be admitted that “Bogen” scarcely
seems any more or less ambiguous in its potential application than the English word
“sheet.” In English, “sheet” may be used to refer both to the sheet of paper as it was
originally manufactured, and to any smaller sheets that may subsequently have been
derived from it through folding and cutting. Thus we can probably regard “Bogen” and
“sheet” as roughly equivalent (although the word “Bogen” perhaps retains the implication
that the paper had a “bend”), and we should not be surprised to find that “Bogen” had
different applications in different contexts. As I shall show, Viennese copyists almost
1 1 2 Tyson, Wasserzeichen-Katalog, Textband, “Einleitung,” x, n. 4: “Bei den von
Mozart beschriebenen Papieren besteht ein Bogen grundsatzlich aus zwei Doppel- bzw.
aus vier Einzelblattem, doch wird der Begriff ‘Bogen’ falschlicherweise sehr oft fur ein
‘Doppelblatt’ verwendet, ein Fehler, der gelegentlich auch im Kochel-Verzeichnis
begegnet.”
1 1 3 Alan Tyson, “A Reconstruction of Nannerl Mozart’s Music Book (Notenbuch),”
Music & Letters 60 (1979): 389-400; reprinted in Mozart: Studies o f the Autograph
Scores, 61-72. The citation here is from the reprinted version, p. 71.
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121
certainly used the word “Bogen” to refer to what we would call a bifolium: that is,
a folded double leaf, equivalent to half of the full sheet of paper as it originally came from
the paper-maker’s mold. We should not, however, assume that the word had this
meaning in every context.
In order to attempt to understand eighteenth-century terms for quantities of paper,
let us begin by considering an advertisement published by Artaria in the Wiener Zeitung
on 7 April 1781, just three weeks after Mozart’s arrival in the city (the advertisement is
transcribed in full and translated in Figure 2.2). Artaria’s advertisement includes three
terms that refer to quantities of paper “Bogen,” “Buch,” and “RiB” (more commonly
“RieB”). Let us first consider how these terms were defined in a contemporaneous
German dictionary.
Adelung’s Grammatisch-kritisches Worterbuch der Hochdeutschen Mundart,
a standard reference work that went through many editions, defines “RieB” as follows:
Das RieB, des —es, plur. die —e, ein nur im Papierhandel (ibliches
Wort, welches eine Quantitht Papier von 20 Buch oder 480 Bogen
bezeichnet. Bey den Papiermachem hingegen halt ein RieB drey Buscht,
oder 546 Bogen. Wenn ein Zahlwort dabey stehet, so bleibt es im
Plural, wie so viele andere Wdrter dieser Art, unverSndert; sechs RieB,
nicht RieBe.
Das Riefi, des [Riefijes, plural die [Riefije: a word normally used only
in the paper business, which denotes a quantity of paper of 20 Buch or
480 Bogen. Among paper makers, on the other hand, the RieB consists
of three Buscht, or 546 Bogen. When a number word stands next to it,
it remains unchanged in the plural, like so many other words of this sort;
six Riefi, not Riefie.1 1 4
1 1 4 Adelung, Worterbuch, vol. 3 (1808), col. 1114.
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122
Figure 2 3 .
Artaria’s advertisement for music paper,
Wiener Zeitung, Saturday, 7 April 1781, Anhang.
Anzeige
von der Kunsthandlung Artaria Compag. am
Kohlmarkt der Michaelerkirche iiber.
Die haufigen Anfragen nach gutem italieni=
schen Geigenseiten und rastrirten Notenpapier
gaben uns um so mehr AnlaB, uns damit zu
versehen, als diese [s/c] Artikel sich zu unsem [s/cj ohnehin
bekannten musikalischen Comerz schicken. Wir
kiindigen also hiemit wahre Florentiner Geigen=
saiten um beygesetzte Preise an— wegen der
Giite dieser Artikel wird die Probe davon uber=
zeugen BOschel Bund zu 30 Biischel
Das E.. 5 kr. = 2 fl. 20 kr.
— A.. 5 — = 2— 20 —
— D.. 5— = 2— 20 —
_ G.. 6— = 2— 45 —
Dann Venetianisches rastrirtes Notenpapier
von 8, 10, 12 und 14 Linien, sowohl iiber
Hohe, als Quere:
der Bogen.....................................— — 2 kr.
— Buch....................................... — — 42 —
— RiB.......................................... 13 fl. — —
Holliindisches deto
der Bogen.................................. — — 3 1/2
— Buch.................................... 1 fl. 20 —
— RiB.......................................24 — —
Auch sind Uiberschlage, oder sehr nett und mit
beBten Geschmack verfertigte Titelblatter, wor=
ein man die geschriebene Musikalien zu legen
pfleget, sowohl Uber H5he als Quere zu be-
kommen, und zwar auf hollandischen Papier
unilluminirt das Stuck . — — 7 kr.
— Buch . 2 fl. 30 —
illuminirte das Stiick . — — 10 —
---
Buch . 3 — 45 —
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Figure 2.2 (continued) 123
Advertisement
of Artaria and Co.’s Art Shop on
Kohlmarkt across from St. Michael’s Church
The frequent inquiries after good Italian fiddle strings and ruled
music paper gave us all the more reason to see to it that these
articles are added to our in any case well-known musical
business. We therefore hereby announce genuine Florentine
fiddle strings at the listed prices—a sample of these articles will
convince one of their quality.
Bunch
The E.. 5 kr.
— A.. 5 —
— D.. 5 —
— G.. 6 —
Bundle of 30 Bunches
2 fl. 20 kr.
2 — 20 —
2 — 20 —
2 — 45 —
Then lined Venetian music paper, with 8, 10, 12, and 14 staves,
upright as well as oblong:
per Bogen.................................. — — 2 kr.
— Buch.................................... — — 42 —
— RiB...................................... 13 fl. — —
Dutch ditto
per Bogen.................................. — — 3 1/2
— Buch.................................... 1 fl. 20 —
— RiB........................................24 — —
One can also obtain covers or title pages done very neatly and
with the best taste, in which one may keep the written music; in
upright as well as oblong, and on Dutch paper
unilluminated. each piece . — — 7
--- Buch . 2 fl. 30
illuminated, each piece . — — 10
---
Buch . 3 — 45
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124
Adelung traces the word “RieB” to the Italian “risma,” whence also the English “ream”
and the French “rame.” In fact, the term can apparently be traced to the Arabic “rismah,”
meaning a “bale or bundle of clothes, paper, etc.”1 1 5 “RieB” is best translated as “ream.”
Adelung’s third definition of the word “Buch” describes its use in reference to
quantities o f paper
. . . 3) Ein MaB des Papiers, welches der zwanzigste Theil eines RieBes
ist Ein Buch Schreibpapier halt 24, ein Buch unbedrucktes
Druckpapier aber wegen des Ausschusses 26 Bogen. Bedrucktes Papier
wird nicht nach BUchem, sondern nach Alphabeten, jedes zu 23 Bogen
gerechnet Auch die geschlagenen GoId= oder Silberblatter werden
nach BUchem verkauft, und da halt ein Buch Gold oder Silber zwdlf bis
fiinf und zwanzig Blatter. In dieser dritten Bedeutung eines Mafies hat
es, wenn ein Zahlwort vorher gehet, wie Pfund, Loth, und hundert
andere, nicht BUcher, sondem nur Buch. Drey Buch Papier.
A measure of paper which is the twentieth part of a ream. A Buch of
writing paper consists of 24 Bogen, a Buch of unprinted printing paper,
however, of 26 Bogen, on account of wastage. Printed paper is
reckoned not according to Biichem, but according to Alphabeten, each
reckoned as 23 Bogen. Beaten gold or silver leaf is also sold in
Biichem , and a Buch of gold or silver consists of 12 to 25 leaves. In
this third meaning as a quantity, it has, when preceded by a number
word, like “pound” and Lot and hundreds of others, [the plural] Buch
not Biichem . Three Buch paper.1 1 6
I shall generally translate Buch as “quite,” the equivalent term in English usage, although
it is often also translated as “book.”1 1 7
1 1 5 E. J. Labarre, Dictionary and Encyclopcedia o f Paper and Paper-Making, with
Equivalents o f the Technical Terms in French, German, Dutch, Italian, Spanish &
Swedish., 2nd ed., revised and enlarged (Amsterdam: Swets & Zeitlinger, 1952), 222.
1 1 6 Adelung, Worterbuch, vol. 1, col. 1235.
1 1 7 The term “Buch” can be found in an annotation on the original Viennese
performing score of Mozart’s quartet “Dite almeno, in che mancai,” K. 479, and the trio
“Mandina amabile,” K. 480. Both were written for a pasticcio based on Bianchi’s La
villanella rapita, first performed in the Burgtheater in Vienna on 25 Nov 1785. The
original performing score of this pasticcio still survives (A-Wn, KT 467). The first
gathering o f the score for K. 480 (Act I, scene 11 and No. “8 V 2 ”), found in volume 1,
bears the annotation “![.] Buch” in the upper middle right of the first page of its first
gathering. The score for K. 479 (Act II, scene 12 and No. 6) is found in the sixth and
seventh gatherings of volume 3. The upper-right comer of the first page of the sixth
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125
According to Adelung, the term “Bogen” was indeed used to refer to the full sheets
as they were originally manufactured:
. . . 4. Ein Bogen Papier, ein Blatt Papier in deijenigen GrttBe, in
welcher es in den Papiermtihlen verfertiget wind, vermuthlich weil es
Ein Mahl zusammen gebogen oder zusammengelegt und so verkauft
wird.
. . . 4. A Bogen [a “fold” or “bend”] of paper a piece of paper in the
very size in which it was manufactured in die paper mills, presumably
because it is bent or folded together once and sold thus.1 1 8
Other contemporary sources confirm that the full sheets were, in fact, usually folded
before being shipped, just as Adelung describes. However, the most important thing to
note about all of these definitions is that the terminology is anything but uniform and
consistent. The terms Riefi and Buch vary in meaning according to what sort of paper or
material one is talking about Adelung states that a ream of writing paper consisted of 480
sheets (Bogen) in 20 quires of 24 sheets each, and similar definitions are found in other
contemporaneous sources.1 1 9 Yet there is considerable evidence to suggest that in Italian
usage, a ream often consisted of 500 sheets in 20 quires of 25.1 2 0 Artaria uses the word
in this way in a ledger for 1791: an entry in this ledger shows that the total number of
sheets (“fogli,” Artaria’s Italian equivalent to Bogen) of printed music in stock was
gathering bears the annotation “3:“ Buch.” Here, the term “Buch” almost certainly refers
to the placement of the items in, respectively, the first and third volumes of the score, and
has nothing to do with the quantity of paper in the gatherings. For more on these
manuscripts, see Chpt. 9.
1 1 8 Adelung, Worterbuch, vol. 1, col. 1113.
1 1 9 Adelung’s quantities are also given in the anonymous article “Die
Buchdruckerkunst,” in Sechzig erofhete Werkstatte der gemeinniitzigsten Kiinste und
Handwerke fu r junge Leute zurAuswahl ihres kunftigen Nahrungsstcmdes (Vienna:
Kurzbfick, 1789), 18, cited in Rupert M. Ridgewell, “Mozart and the Artaria Publishing
House: Studies in the Inventory Ledgers, 1784-1793” (Ph.D. diss.. Royal Holloway,
University of London, 1999), 80.
1201 shall generally use the old Austrian plural form Bogen, as this was the form
most often used by 18th-century Viennese music copyists.
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126
20616, or 41 risme, 4 libre (quires), and 16 fo g li.1 2 1 The total value of this stock is given
in Artaria’s ledger as 577 gulden 15 kreuzer, on the basis of a rate of 14 gulden per ream.
Artaria’s figures imply that a ream consisted of 500 sheets, and a quire of 25 sheets:
41 reams would be equivalent to 20500 sheets, and 4 quires to 100 sheets, so the total
number of sheets is equal to 20616, precisely the figure that Artaria gives.1 2 2
Georg Eineder, in The Ancient Paper-Mills o f the Former Austro-Hungarian Empire
and their Watermarks, reproduces a list of prices for papers in various formats and of
various qualities available in 1820 from the Galvani firm in Friuli.1 2 3 In this list, writing
papers are sold in reams of 480 or 461 sheets (depending on the type), but paper in larger
formats, including music paper, tre lune paper, royal paper, and various drawing papers,
are sold in reams of 500 sheets.1 2 4 Antonio Fedrigoni, in his history of the Venetian
paper industry in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, states that the standard terms
used by Venetian paper-makers at that time were “balla” (bale), “risma” (ream),
“quintemo” (quire), and “foglio” (sheet).1 2 5 One “balla” consisted of 10 “risme,” each of
1 2 1 WStLB, Handschriftensammlung, I. N. 67721, Artaria Geschaftsinventar Nr. 5
(1791), fol. 62r.
1221 am grateful to Rupert Ridgewell for the citation from Artaria’s ledger and its
analysis.
1 2 3 Georg Eineder, The Ancient Paper-Mills o f the Former Austro-Hungarian
Empire and their Watermarks, Monumenta Charts Papyraces Historiam Illustrantia,
vol. 8 (Hilversum: The Paper Publications Society, 1960), 170.
1 2 4 Interestingly, the Galvani list includes a separate category for “music paper,” at
11 florins a ream. The existence of this special category may suggest that the Galvani
firm itself added the staff-ruling to the paper; this might, at any rate, be one possible
explanation for the higher cost of such paper relative to other sorts of similar size and
quality. However, see the discussion of staff ruling below in Chpt. 3, where I suggest
that the northem-Italian music paper sold in Vienna was most likely ruled in Vienna,
either by the paper dealers or perhaps by persons specializing in the trade of ruling music
paper.
1 2 5 Antonio Fedrigoni, LTndustria veneta della carta dalla seconda dominazione
Austriaca all'unita d ’ Italia, Archivio economico dell’unificazione italiana (Turin: Industria
Libraria Tipografica Editrice, 1966), 38.
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127
which consisted of 20 “quintemi,” which in turn consisted of 25 “fogli.” Thus the
standard Venetian ream consisted o f500 sheets. However, Fedrigoni also notes regional
variation in the application of these terms. For example, reams of paper manufactured in
Lombardy consisted o f450 or 480 sheets, and “Dutch” paper was sold in Venice in reams
of 480 sheets (20 quires of 24 sheets).1 2 6
The Viennese publisher Artaria may have evaluated quires in terms of 25 sheets, but
there is evidence to suggest that music paper was at least sometimes sold in Vienna in
quires of 24. In the years from 1798 to 1808 Beethoven used at least nine professionally-
made sketchbooks.1 2 7 All of these books contain 48 leaves or some multiple of that
number (either 96 or 192), strongly suggesting that they were constructed from quires of
24 bifoiia.
Regardless of whether a Buch consisted of 24 or 25 Bogen, the prices advertised in
Artaria’s advertisement show that there would have been significant savings from buying
music paper in bulk. Twenty-five individual Bogen of lined Venetian music paper at
a rate of 2 kreuzer per Bogen would have cost 50 kreuzer, whereas Artaria offered
a quire of (perhaps) 25 Bogen for 42 kreuzer, a saving of 8 kreuzer. The savings for
a quire of 24 would have been 6 kreuzer. Similarly, 20 individual quires of the same
paper at 42 kreuzer per quire would have cost 14 gulden, but Artaria’s price for a ream
consisting of 20 quires was 13 gulden, one gulden less. Five hundred Bogen purchased
individually at 2 kreuzer per Bogen would have cost 1000 kreuzer, or 16 gulden
1 2 6 Philip Gaskell writes: “The paper-maker’s ream consisted of 20 quires of 24 or
25 sheets each, the smaller ream (480 sheets) being normal in England and Holland,
while the larger ream (500 sheets) became standard in most but not all French and Italian
mills”; see A New Introduction to Bibliography (New Castle, Del.: Oak Knoll Press,
1995), 59.
1 2 7 On Beethoven’s professionally-made sketchbooks, see Douglas Johnson, Alan
Tyson, and Robert Winter, The Beethoven Sketchbooks: History, Reconstruction,
Inventory (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985), 48.
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128
40 kreuzer. Thus one would have saved 3 gulden 40 kreuzer by purchasing a ream of
500 all at once, or a little over ly kreuzer per Bogen. Even if Artaria’s ream consisted of
only 480 Bogen, one would still have saved 3 gulden over what one would have paid for
the Bogen individually. To put these savings into perspective: the leader of the violins in
the orchestra of the Viennese court theater was paid 450 gulden a year, or 37j gulden
a month. Thus a ream of Venetian music paper would have cost around one-third of his
monthly income, but the savings from buying by the ream may have amounted to as much
as one-tenth of his monthly income. It is not difficult to see, then, why Mozart seems
often to have used single paper-types within relatively well-defined spans of time; as
I shall show in Chapter 3, he probably often bought his music paper by the quite rather
than by the sheet (although apparently never by the ream).
There is some evidence to suggest a rapid rise in the price of music paper in Vienna
in the 1770s; such a rise seems to be documented in receipts and other related documents
in the Acta Musicalia of the Esterhazy archive.1 2 8 Receipts and bills from the years 1766
to 1770 show that Haydn was consistently able to purchase lined Italian music paper
during that period at a price of 24 kreuzer per Buch.1 2 9 A receipt dated 22 December
1771 records the purchase of four quires of lined Italian music paper at the even lower
rate of 21 kreuzer per quire.1 3 0 However, a receipt dated 8 November 1778 reads as
follows:
1 2 8 The following discussion is based largely on the citations from the Acta
Musicalia in H. C. Robbins Landon, Haydn at Eszterhaza, 1766-1790, vol. 2 of Haydn:
Chronicle and Works (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1978), 410-11.
1 2 9 See Landon, Haydn at Eszterhaza, 124 (receipt from 11 Sep 1766), 157 (receipt
from 30 Apr 1769), and 162 (receipt from 23 Jul 1770).
1 3 0 A receipt dated 16 May 1774 records the purchase of “6 books of unlined music
paper for His Highness 1 FI. 30 xr” (Landon, Haydn at Eszterhaza, 204). This price
implies a rate of 15 kreuzer per quire. The receipt does not specify whether the paper was
Italian, but we may tentatively suppose that the cost of ruling the music paper came to
6 kreuzer per quire. The purchase of “unlined music paper” seems to lend circumstantial
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Specification des NOthigen Notten Papier
129
6 BUcher 10 Linirtes Breites, 6 BQcher 10 Linirtes Langes, und 2 BUcher
12 Linirtes breites, und 3 BUcher 8 Linirtes Breites Notten Papier: das Buch
per 40 Xr. Macht
11 fl. 20 Xr.
Josephus Haydn Mpria
fur Meine Neue opera:
Erstens die 6 bUcher mit 10 Linien breites
die Singstimen. 2*“ die 6 bUcher langes
fur die orchest stimen, 3“ " die 2 bUcher mit
12 Linien fUr die Final in der opera
und die 3 bUcher mit 8 Linien ftir Sr Durchlaucht
auf den Bariton, damit diesen winter der 5“
band von meinen Trios kan geschrieben werden
Oben Specificirtes Papier wird Unser HauB Inspector Kleinrath einkauffen
und wie ehistens anhero Ubermachen. Eszterhaz
den 8 * “ [Novem]bris [1]778.
Nicolaus FUrst Esterhazy
Specification for Necessary Music Paper
6 books oblong with 10 staves, 6 books upright with 10 staves, and 2 books
oblong with 12 staves, and 3 books oblong with 8 staves; at 40 xr per book
Makes
11 fl. 20 Xr.
Josephus Haydn mpria
For my new opera
First the 6 books with ten staves oblong
for the vocal parts. 2nd the 6 books oblong
for the orchestral parts, 3rd the 2 books with
12 staves for the finale in the opera
and the 3 books with 8 Lines for His Highness
for the baryton, so that this winter the 5th
volume of my Trios can be written.
support to the notion that music paper was lined in Vienna rather than by the paper
manufacturer. For further discussion of this point, see Chpt. 3.
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130
The above specified paper will be purchased by our House Inspector Kleinrath
and sent here as soon as possible. Eszterhaza
8 November 1778.
Nicolaus Fiirst Esterhazy.1 3 1
A rate of 40 kreuzer per quire is just two kreuzer less than Artaria’s advertised price in
1781. The rate of 40 kreuzer per quire of music paper is confirmed in several other
receipts in the Acta Musicalia in the 1780s. If this analysis is correct, then the price that
Haydn paid for lined Italian music paper roughly doubled within ten years.
It is useful to know the price of music paper, but knowing the price still does not
clarify the meaning of the term “Bogen” (or “foglio”) as it was used by music copyists,
publishers, and paper-sellers at that time. Rupert Ridgewell has persuasively shown that
Artaria evaluated paper for music printing on the basis of a full sheet as it had originally
been manufactured.1 3 2 However, the use of foglio or Bogen to refer to a full sheet in this
particular case does not necessarily mean that music copyists would have used the words
in the same way. There is even some evidence to suggest that Artaria may have evaluated
paper intended for music writing on the basis of the bifolium rather than the full sheet.1 3 3
1 3 1 This document is in the Esterhazy archive in Forchtenstein, Acta varia, Fasz.
186. See Georg Feder and Sonja Gerlach, “Haydn-Dokumente aus dem Esterhazy-
Archiv in Forchtenstein,” Haydn-Studien 3, no. 2 (1974): 92-105, here 99, with
commentary on 104-5. The document is given in translation in Landon, Haydn at
Eszterhaza, 410-11. Landon’s translation incorrectly reads “the book at 50 Xr....”
However, seventeen quires at 40 kr. per quire comes to 680 kr., or 11 fl. 20 kr., the total
given on the document.
1 3 2 See Ridgewell, “Mozart and the Artaria Publishing House,” 82-83.
1 3 3 In a personal communication (31 May 2000), Ridgewell has pointed to entries in
Artaria’s ledger for 1784 (WStLB, Handschriftensammlung, I. N. 178.881, Artaria
Geschaftsinventar Nr. 3, 19r) referring to 35 “libri” of lined “Dutch” paper and 26’ /,
“libri” of lined “Venetian” paper. Ridgewell points out that these entries are atypical,
because the figures are not converted to reams, as they normally are in entries that refer to
printing paper. The entry for Venetian paper is marked “n. R \” which Ridgewell
interprets as “netto Ribasso,” or “net reduction,” perhaps implying that the paper intended
for music manuscript was evaluated upon a different basis than paper for music printing.
In other words, these “libri” may have consisted of bifolia, rather than full sheets.
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131
As we shall see in the next chapter, the kind of northern Italian paper normally used
for writing music was manufactured in large sheets in a variety of the “royal” size
measuring approximately 640 x 460 millimeters. Before use, these sheets were normally
folded twice, once on the long axis and once on the short axis, and they were cut or tom
on the longer or shorter axis depending on whether the paper was to be used in oblong or
upright format1 3 4 Thus a single sheet of paper as it came from the paper-maker’s mold
became two bifolia of four leaves, each leaf equivalent to one quarter of the original sheet.
Because Viennese copyists typically charged by the Bogen, many Viennese musical
manuscripts from the eighteenth century are inscribed with a number that corresponds to
the total number of Bogen in the manuscript. For example, the title pages of copies from
Lausch’s shop very often include such numbers. These numbers may help us to
understand exactly what the copyists meant by the term. In every case known to me, it is
clear that the number of Bogen as marked on the manuscript by the copyist is equivalent
to the number of bifolia. I shall consider just three examples, all pertaining to Mozart.
The Musiksammlung of the Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek preserves several
scores of individual numbers from Le nozze di Figaro, all written in the hands of copyists
who worked for Sukowaty, on paper-types consistent with a date around 1786. These
scores derive from the archive of the Hofkapelle, and probably belonged to the court’s
own collection. I shall discuss these scores in greater detail in Chapter 9. What
especially interests us here, however, is the score of Figaro’s aria “Non piu andrai.” In
the lower left-hand comer of its last page, this score bears the inscription “8 Bog.,”
unambiguously referring to “8 Bogen.”1 3 5 The score consists of precisely sixteen leaves,
1 3 4 It is also possible that the paper was first cut or tom on either the longer or
shorter axis and that each resulting piece was then folded on the other axis (for more on
the preparation of music paper, see Chpt. 3).
1 35 A-Wn, S. m. 4155.
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132
or eight bifolia. Thus there is no question in this case that “Bogen” is equivalent to
“bifolium.”
In Chapter 8 1 shall discuss several sets of manuscripts parts that seem to have
belonged to Mozart and were probably his own performing parts. One of these sets, for
the tenor aria “Se al labbro mio non credi. . . II cor dolente,” K. 295, is preserved in the
Stadt- und Universitatsbibliothek in Frankfurt.1 3 6 In its current state, the set consists of
fifteen parts, including a part for the tenor soloist, all of the string parts (with duplicates
for the first and second violin, and the basso), and all of the wind parts except for the first
hom, which appears to be the only part missing from the original set. The tenor part
consists of four leaves, the string parts each consist of three leaves, and all of the winds
are written on a single bifolium. Thus it is safe to assume that the missing hom part also
consisted of a single bifolium. The total number of extant leaves is 39, and it therefore
seems extremely likely that the original set would have consisted of 41 leaves. In the
lower left-hand comer of the last page of the first copy of the basso part is inscribed the
number “20j,” corresponding precisely to the number of bifolia in 41 leaves.
The presence of the fraction in this Bogen-count also provides strong circumstantial
support for the notion that copyists used the term “Bogen” to refer to a bifolium. The
fraction is common in such inscriptions, but the fraction “j ” seems never to appear.
Yet if a “Bogen” were equivalent to a full sheet as it came from the paper-maker’s mold,
as Tyson claimed, then “j ” should correspond to a single leaf—and single leaves are
found very often in eighteenth-century Viennese manuscripts. Thus the absence of the
fraction in the Bogen-counts would, in itself, seem sufficient to disprove this
interpretation.
1 3 6 D-F, Mus. Hs. 626. See the discussion of these parts in Chpt. 8, esp. Tables
8.4a and 8.4b.
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133
Finally, let us reconsider Mozart’s bill for the manuscript copies that he sold to the
court in Donaueschingen in 1786. As we have seen in Chapter 1 (where the bill is given
in full, along with a translation), Mozart sent the court sets of parts for his piano
concertos K. 451, K. 459, and K. 488, and his symphonies K. 319, K. 338, and
K. 425. The parts for the concertos are not known to survive, but those for the
symphonies do survive. Mozart’s bill specifies the total number of Bogen in the three
symphonies and the cost per Bogen:
die 3 Sinfoniert
116 und 1/2 bogen zu 8 x:er________________15 32
The 3 Symphonies
116 and 1/2 Bogen at 8 kreuzer 15 [fl] 32 [kr]1 3 7
The parts for Mozart’s three symphonies were rediscovered by Friedrich Schnapp in
1938, and he first reported on them in an article published in the Neues Mozart-Jahrbuch
1 9 4 2.os The parts for K. 319 survive complete, whereas the sets for K. 338 and K. 425
lack their parts for second viola. However, the title page of each set bears an inscription
in red ink corresponding to the total number of Bogen that were originally in the
set—respectively “32j ,” “40j,” and “43j,” making a total of 116^ Bogen, precisely the
number given in Mozart’s bill.1 3 9 This correlation was, in fact, a key piece of evidence in
Schnapp’s identification of the parts. Needless to say, all of the figures and calculations
take “Bogen” as equivalent to a bifolium.
1 3 7 MBA, III/590.
1 3 8 Friedrich Schnapp, “Neue Mozart-Funde in Donaueschingen,” in Neues
Mozart-Jahrbuch 1942 (Regensburg: Gustav Bosse Verlag, 1942), 211-23.
1 3 9 Schnapp, “Neue Mozart-Funde,” 214. On 214-15 Schnapp gives a complete list
of the surviving parts and the numbers of Bogen in each.
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134
Thus it seems certain that in the context of eighteenth-century Viennese music
copying the word “Bogen” was used to refer to what we would now call a “bifolium.”
But how much copying was a “Bogen”? Did the rate per Bogen refer to the copying of
two facing pages on one side of a bifolium (what a modem bibliographer would call an
“opening”), or did it refer to all four pages, on both sides of the bifolium? Although the
evidence bearing on these questions is somewhat mixed, it seems likely that copyists
normally used the word “Bogen” to refer to four pages of copying. Mozart’s bill charged
for 116^ Bogen, and the parts that he sent to Donaueschingen appear originally to have
consisted of precisely 116^ Bogen, most of them covered with music. If the copyists had
charged by the opening (or, equivalendy, by the leaf), then the total should have been
333. The same interpretation of the meaning of “Bogen” seems to hold for most other
Viennese commercial copies from the eighteenth century.1 4 0
It may seem logical to assume, based on the foregoing discussion, that a Bogen as
sold by paper-sellers would also have been equivalent to a bifolium, and this may well
have been so. However, we should perhaps not jump to this conclusion without studying
the matter further. In Chapter 3 I shall have more to say about the quantities in which
music paper was sold in Vienna. At present, however, we are safe in concluding that
Viennese copyists who charged by the Bogen were usually referring to the four pages of
a single bifolium.
1 4 0 For another instance of an exact match between the number of Bogen listed on
a receipt and the number of bifolia in a surviving set of parts, see Fisher, “Haydn’s
Overtures,” 445-46, regarding a receipt from Franz Xaver Riersch and a set of parts for
Haydn’s symphony Hob. 1:67.
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135
Rates of Payment
The rates charged by music copyists varied according to the format of the music that
was being copied and whether or not the music paper was included in the price.
Throughout much of the 1780s and 1790s Viennese copyists very commonly charged
7 kreuzer per Bogen for instrumental parts. For example, on 30 April 1785, Johann
Traeg advertised “2 Neue Sinfonien in C und D von Mozart, den Bogen 7 kr.” (“2 New
Symphonies in C and D by Mozart, at 7 kreuzer per Bogen").1 4 1 Just a few weeks
earlier, on 9 March 1785, Lausch had advertised symphonies at exactly the same rate:
Neue Musikalien.
Haydn, Gius. 3 Sinfonien nach dem Ori=
ginal kopirt; Maschek, Wenzesl. 12 dette;
Mozart, 3 dette; Pichl, Wenzesl. 3 dette;
Pleyel, 6 dette, von jeden den Bogen zu 7 kr.
New Music.
Haydn, Joseph, 3 Symphonies copied from
the originals; Maschek, Wenzel, 12 ditto;
Mozart, 3 ditto; Pichl, Wenzel, 3 ditto;
Pleyel, 6 ditto, each at 7 kr. per Bogen.1 4 2
In 1780, the court theater paid Joseph Uhrl 7 kreuzer per Bogen for copying German
dances by Asplmayr and minuets by Haydn for balls in the Redoutens&le.1 4 3 The same
rate is documented in several receipts in the Schwarzenberg archive, including one signed
by Sukowaty and dating from 1787, for copying the orchestral parts for nine opera
1 4 1 WZ, Sat, 30 Apr 1785, No. 35, 1022. See also Table 7.2, esp. Traeg’s
advertisements on 14 Sep 1785 and 21 Dec 1785, which also offer instrumental music at
a rate of 7 kr. per Bogen.
1 4 2 WZ, Wed, 9 Mar 1785,548. See also Deutsch, Dokumente, 211. The
advertisements of Traeg and Lausch most often listed set prices for entire manuscripts.
However, in the advertisements cited here, the copyists may have given per-Bogen rates
in order to let their customers know that they had the option of ordering as many or as
few parts as they wished for the symphonies that were on offer.
1 4 3 HHStA, Hoftheater, SR 37.
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136
overtures. The rate of 7 kreuzer per Bogen is also found on receipts from Franz Xaver
Riersch and Johann Weiss in the Oettingen-Wallerstein archive.1 4 4 In most cases, the
copies to which these rates applied were commercial ones (in other words, they were not
copies created by an employee under contract to a particular establishment), and the rate
would therefore have covered the cost of both the copying and the music paper.
Copyists who were attached to a particular establishment often charged lower rates.
Several receipts in the Schwarzenberg archive from the copyist Andreas GrieBler specify
a rate of only 4 kreuzer per Bogen. For example, a receipt from 1786 reads:
861.
WaB ich Endes unterschreibener an ver„
schiedenen Musicalien geliefert habe
15 Divertimenti a 4 Bogen der Bogen 4 xr
Bogen f xr
x 60x 4 x
wieder 9 Bdgen x 9 x x 36x
Summa x 69 x 4f x 36 xr
Andreas GrieBler ^
861.
What various music I the undersigned
have delivered. 15 Divertimenti,
each of 4 Bogen at 4 kr. per Bogen
Bogen fl kr
60 4
9 additional Bttgen________________________ 9________ 26
Total 69 4 36
Andreas GrieBler1 4 5
However, it is clear that GrieBler was paid less than a commercial copyist, probably
because he was an employee of Prince Schwarzenberg. Another receipt from GrieBler,
for copying basso parts for the operas Una cosa rara and II re Teodoro in Venezia, lists
a rate of 5 kreuzer per Bogen “samt dem Papier'’ (including the paper).1 4 6
1 4 4 See the receipts transcribed in Fisher, “Haydn’s Overtures,” 445 and 454, and
reproduced in facsimile on 448 and 455.
1 4 5 Cesky Krumlov, Schwarzenberg Zentralkassa (UP) IIIB 3b/11, 1786, No. 861.
1 4 6 Cesky Krumlov, Schwarzenberg Zentralkassa (UP) IIIB 3b/l 1, 1787, No. 750.
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137
Commercial copyists also occasionally charged lower rates. For example, on
27 September 1783, in one of his earliest advertisements, Traeg offered “Verschiedene
neue Quartetten, Quintetten und Sinfonien von guten Meistem, der Bogen zu 6 kr.”
(“Various new quartets, quintets, and symphonies by good masters, at 6 kreuzer per
Bogen").1 * 7 One suspects, however, that he quickly discovered that he could not make
a profit at that price, and he soon raised his rate to the standard 7 kreuzer per Bogen.
Copyists sometimes also charged 7 kreuzer per Bogen for opera scores. This is the
rate, for example, charged by Jakob Klein in a receipt in the Schwarzenberg archive for
a score of Salieri’s La grotta di Trofonio, a score that still survives.1 4 8 However, the rate
charged for operas was usually somewhat higher, probably because of the added
difficulty of including a text, often in a language that was foreign to the copyist, such as
Italian or (occasionally) French. Most of Sukowaty’s receipts in the Schwarzenberg
archive list a rate of 8 kreuzer per Bogen for opera scores.1 4 9
As I shall attempt to show in Chapter 9, the court theater seems to have paid
Sukowaty at a rate of 7 kreuzer per Bogen up until at least the end of the season 1785-86,
and this rate seems to have been applied uniformly, regardless of whether the copies
consisted of scores, vocal parts, or instrumental parts. At some point during the
following season his rate of payment seems to have decreased to 6 kreuzer per Bogen.
1 4 7 WZ, Sat, 27 Sep 1783.
1 4 8 Cesky Krumlov, Schwarzenberg Zentralkassa (UP) IIIB 3b/11, 1786, No. 459.
Klein’s receipt is transcribed and translated in ChpL 8, and the score of La grotta di
Trofonio is used there as evidence for a provisional identification of Klein’s hand.
1 4 9 Sukowaty’s receipts giving a rate of 8 kr. per Bogen include one from 1781 for
scores of Die Eingebildeten Philosophen (a German translation by Gottlieb Stephanie Jr.
of Paisiello’s / filosofi immaginari) and one aria from Gluck’s Iphigenia aufTauris (this
receipt is transcribed and translated in ChpL 9); one hom 1785 for a score of Paisiello’s II
barbiere di Siviglia; and another from the same year for a score of Fra i due litiganti (all
references are to receipts in Cesky Krumlov, Schwarzenberg Zentralkassa [UP] IIIB
3b/l 1).
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138
I shall suggest that Sukowaty may have been compensated for this decrease in his
standard rate by being granted unlimited access to the materials in the archives of the court
theater to use as Vorlagen for his commercial copies. In the case of Sukowaty’s
payments from the court theater, we have insufficient evidence to decide whether the rate
of payment included the cost of music paper.
Copyists sometimes charged different rates for orchestral parts, keyboard parts,
vocal parts, and scores. In his invoices for his copying for Prince Lobkowitz in the later
1790s, Sukowaty listed rates of 10 kreuzer per Bogen for scores or vocal parts, and
7 kreuzer per Bogen for instrumental parts.1 5 0 One often finds differential rates in the
invoices of the Esterhazy copyist Johann Schellinger. For example, in his invoice for the
year 1783, Schellinger gives rates of 7 kreuzer per Bogen for vocal parts, and 3 kreuzer
per Bogen for instrumental parts.1 5 1 In his bill for the manuscripts that he sent to the
Donaueschingen court, Mozart charged 8 kreuzer per Bogen for orchestral parts, and
10 kreuzer per Bogen for keyboard parts, presumably because the density of notes was
greater on the latter. Cliff Eisen has suggested that Mozart may have purchased the parts
for the three symphonies that he sent to Donaueschingen from Traeg, who as we have
1 5 0 On Sukowaty’s copying for Prince Lobkowitz, see Jana Fojtikova and Tomislav
Volek, “Die Beethoveniana der Lobkowitz-Musiksammlung und ihre Kopisten,” in
Beethoven und Bohmen. Beitrdge zu Biographie und Wirkungsgeschichte Beethovens,
ed. Sieghard Brandenburg and Martella Gutidrrez-Denhoff (Bonn: Beethoven Haus,
1988), 219-53, here esp. 226-29.
1 5 1 Schellinger’s account for 1783 is given in Denes Bartha, ed., Joseph Haydn.
Gesammelte Briefe und Aufzeichnungen (Kassel: Barenreiter, 1965), item 58, p. 132.
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139
seen probably charged 7 kreuzer per Bogen.1 5 2 Thus as Eisen points out, Mozart may
have made a profit (albeit a small one) on that portion of the transaction.1 5 3
M arketing
Both Lorenz Lausch and Johann Traeg advertised frequently. During some periods
of the 1780s, Lausch’s advertisements seem to appear in nearly every issue of the Wiener
Zeitung, and he also advertised in Das Wienerbldttchen, the Provinzialnachrichten, and
the Brunner Zeitung. Traeg seems to have advertised somewhat less often than Lausch,
and in a narrower range of periodicals; most of Traeg’s known advertisements appeared
in the Wiener Zeitung, and there are a handful in Das Wienerbldttchen. Sukowaty, in
contrast, seems to have advertised relatively rarely. Yet as I shall show in Chapter 9,
commercial copies from his shop are found in collections throughout Europe and
elsewhere. Thus one suspects that he conducted much of his business through personal
contacts and word-of-mouth. Other Viennese copyists advertised only sporadically. To
take just one example hom among many: on 10 March 1784, Anton Melzer (who is listed
in Table 2.1) published the following advertisement in the Wiener Zeitung, offering music
gathered during a four-year sojourn in Italy:
Musikmeister und Arien.
Anton Melzer, ein aus Italien erst angekom=
mener Tonkiinstler, uberldfit einem hohen Adel
und einem hochgeschazten Publikum um einen
sehr billigen Preis sechs Stuck der auserlesen=
sten geschriebenen Diskantarien in sparta von
den beriihmtesten Meistem, als ein Rondo von
Giuseppe Mislewececk, von Ferd. Bertoni ein
1 5 2 See Cliff Eisen, “New Light on Mozart’s ‘Linz’ Symphony, K. 425,” Journal
o f the Royal Musical Association 113 (1988): 81-96, here esp. 82-83.
1 5 3 If Mozart made a profit of 1 kreuzer per Bogen on the 116l/2 Bogen in the parts
for the symphonies, his total profit for those three manuscripts would have been merely
1 gulden 561 /, kreuzer.
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140
Recitativ und Aria[;] die Ubrigen sind von Mon=
telari, Anion Salieri, Anton Sachini, Gatti;
und weil er sich durch einen 4j3hrigen Aufent=
halt in WSlschland den italianischen Geschmack
in der Violin und in jeder Gattung der Sing=
stimme, wie auch die Kunst diesen andera bey=
zu bringen sich ganz eigen gemacht hat, so ist
er bereit auf gnMdiges Begehren Musiklieben=
den in beyden Unterricht zu geben. Er is zu
erfragen im deutschen Hause Nr. 865 im er=
sten Thore neben S t Stephansfreidhofe [s/c] bey
dem Thorsteher.
Music Master and Arias.
Anton Melzer, a musician just arrived from
Italy, offers the high nobility and a highly
treasured public six of the choicest soprano arias
ever written, for a very low price, in score,
by the most famous masters, namely a rondd
by Giuseppe Myslive£ek; by Ferdinando Bertoni
a recitative and aria; the others are by Mortellari,
Antonio Salieri, Antonio Sacchini, and Gatti;
and because he has, during a 4-year sojourn in
Italy, become fully versed in the Italian taste
on the violin and for every type of voice,
as well as the art of teaching this to others,
he is therefore ready to offer instruction in both
to music lovers who may graciously desire it.
One may ask for him in the Deutsches Haus
No. 865 at the first gate near the cemetery
of St. Stephen’s, at the gatekeeper.1 5 4
The advertisements of copyists occasionally target specific markets. For example,
an advertisement published by Lausch on 27 March 1782 is addressed to the “lovers of
music” (“Liebhaber der Musik,” which can also be translated as “amateurs of music”)
who were involved in the “dilettante concerts” that were taking place in Vienna at that
time:
Nachricht
Lorenz Lausch, welcher die Ehre hat, das hie=
sige Dilletanta Concert mit Sinfonien zu ver=
sehen, macht alien Liebhabem der Musik zu
1 5 4 WZ, Wed, 10 Mar 1784, 506.
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141
wissen, daB bey ihm, ausser denen neuesten
Sinfonien von Herrn Hayden, worunter die
Jagd=Sinfonie begriffen, die bey der Ankunft
Sr. Durchlaucht des FUrsten Esterhazy von
Paris gemacht worden; auch andere verchie=
dene, und von mehrem Authoren; nicht al=
lein Sinfonien, sondera auch Casationen auf
Violin und Flaute, Quintetten, Quartetten,
Trio und Duetten, nebst Claviersachen in Ma=
nuscript zu haben sind. Die fremden Herren
Musici, oder Verleger, so ihn einer gUttigen
Zuschrift wiirdigen, werden auf das piinklich=
ste [s/c] bedient. . .
News
Lorenz Lausch, who has the honor of supplying
the Dilettante Concerts here with symphonies,
makes known to all lovers of music that he is
offering in manuscript, in addition to the newest
symphonies of Herr Haydn—among them the
“Hunt” Symphony, which was performed upon
the arrival of His Highness Prince Esterhazy
from Paris—also various other ones by several
authors; and not only symphonies, but also
cassations for violin and flute, quintets, quartets
trios, and duets, along with keyboard pieces.
Those foreign musicians or publishers who deem
him worthy of a gracious reply will be served
as promptly as possible .. .l5 5
Eventually the three principal copying firms in Vienna developed special emphases.
Sukowaty was able to offer authoritative scores of all of the operas and Singspiele
performed by the court theater, and he also offered these works in various arrangements.
Lausch made a particular specialty of offering essentially the same repertoire (along with
operas performed in other Viennese theaters) in keyboard score, which he offered as
individual numbers. In fact, Lausch’s detailed advertisements often list all of the
individual numbers in an opera, and these advertisements therefore may provide important
evidence of the content of a particular Viennese production (see, for example, my
* 5 5 WZ, Wed, 27 Mar 1782, No. 25.
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142
discussion of Lausch’s advertisements for Le nozze di Figaro and Don Giovanni in
Chapter 9). Lausch also advertised operas in full score and in a variety of other
arrangements. He occasionally offered instrumental music as well (as in the
advertisement of 27 March 1782), but such offerings were comparatively rare. In
contrast, Traeg advertised relatively few operas, and as we shall see in Chapter 7, some
of those that he did offer were decidedly outside of the mainstream of the Viennese
repertoire at the time. In contrast to Sukowaty and Lausch, Traeg specialized in
instrumental music, including an extremely wide variety of arrangements. He also made
a specialty of “old” music (from a late eighteenth-century perspective, anything
composed before roughly 1775), and he occasionally advertised works by such
composers as Corelli and Handel. Traeg also seems to have been the only commercial
copyist in Vienna who dealt to any significant degree in sacred music. From at least 1789
Traeg was Breitkopf s agent in Vienna, and the wide variety of offerings in Traeg’s
catalogue of 1799 seem to suggest that he maintained close contacts with music publishers
and dealers throughout Europe.
It was quite common for Viennese composers, music publishers, and music
copyists to offer works on subscription (“Pr3numeration”). Mozart twice attempted to
offer manuscript copies of his own works in this way, both times apparently without
success. In January 1783 he advertised a subscription for three new piano concertos,
K. 413, K. 414, and K. 415. As I shall suggest in Chapter 5, Joseph Arthofer may have
been the copyist he intended to use for this scheme.1 5 6 Then in the spring of 1788,
during a period of great financial distress, Mozart attempted to sell by subscription
manuscript copies of three string quintets (probably K. 406, K. 515, and K. 516). No
1 5 6 See Mozart’s advertisement in WZ, Wed, 15 Jan 1783, transcribed in Deutsch,
Dokumente, 187-88.
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143
known copies can currently be connected with this offering, and Mozart’s copyist for the
subscription, if he engaged one, is unknown. That such schemes were perhaps often
unsuccessful did not dissuade other composers from undertaking them. For example, in
Das Wienerbldttchen of 23 November 1783, the composer and pianist Anton Eberl
advertised a subscription for three piano sonatas (apparently in a printed edition).1 5 7
Similarly, Emanuel Aloys Forster advertised a subscription in the same periodical on
19 January 1784 for manuscript copies of three of his piano sonatas.1 5 8
Music publishers, copyists, and dealers likewise sometimes offered music on
subscription. We have already seen one example earlier in this chapter, in Leopold
Grund’s advertisement for an arrangement for string quartet of Paisiello’s II barbiere di
Siviglia. In an advertisement published in Das Wienerbldttchen on 15 November 1785,
Wenzel Sukowaty offered on subscription a keyboard score of Salieri’s new opera La
grotta di Trofonio and also an arrangement for string quartet of the same composer’s
recendy revived La fiera di Venezia:
Neue Musikalien.
Unterzeichneter, der schon die Ehre ge=
habt, den Herren Liebhabem der Musik, sowohl
mit Klavierausziigen, als auch mit Quan=
tetten aus verschiedenen Opem zu bedienen,
macht hiemit bekannt, daB er bemiihet war,
von der mit allgemeinem Beyfall aufgenom=
menen Open La Grotto di Trofonio (Mu=
sik von Herm Salieri,) einen Klavierauszug
mit beygesetzter Singstimme, wie auch von
der Fiera di Venezia Quartetten auf 2 Violin,
Viola und Violoncello gut verfertigen zu las=
sen, und bietet erstere gegen Subskription von
4 Dukaten, und leztere zu 2 detto, bis Ende
1 5 7 WB, Sun, 23 Nov 1783,9. Eberl promised to return the subscribers’ money in
case the number of subscribers was insufficient to cover the costs of the edition.
1 5 8 WB, Mon, 19 Jan 1784, 21.
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144
dieses Monats sauber und korrekt geschrie=
ben hiemit an . . .
Wenzel Sukowaty
Hoftheatral=Kopist wohn=
haft am Petersplatz im Mazi=
schen Haus N. 554 im Hof
im dritten Stock.
New Music.
The undersigned, who has already had the honor
of serving the Herm Amateurs of Music
with keyboard scores as well as quartets
from various operas, hereby makes known
that he was motivated by the general acclaim
with which the opera La grotta di Trofonio
(music by Herr Salieri) was received, to arrange
for the preparation of a keyboard score with
a vocal part, as well as a quartet for 2 violins,
viola, and violoncello of La fiera di Venezia, and
he hereby offers the first on subscription for
4 ducats, and the second for 2 ducats, until
the end of this month . . .
Wenzel Sukowaty
Copyist of the Court Theater
residing on Petersplatz in
the Mazisches Haus No. 554
on the court on the third floor1 5 9
Lausch and other copyists also occasionally attempted such subscriptions.
In the first half of the 1780s, Traeg and Lausch advertised schemes for the rental of
music for use in academies and balls. Traeg advertised such a scheme in his second
advertisement in the Wiener Zeitung, on 21 December 1782: “ ... Erbietet er sich,
Musikalien zu kleinen und groBen Akademien gegen Einsatz des Werthes, und einer
Kleinigkeit, z. B. 3 kr. fur 1 Quartett herzuleihen” (“He offers to rent music for smaller
and larger academies for a deposit of its value and a trifle, for example 3 kreuzer for
1 5 9 WB, Tue, 15 Nov 1785, 237.
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145
1 quartet”)-1 6 0 Lorenz Lausch quickly followed suit, with a much more detailed plan
announced in Das Wienerbldttchen on 25 September 1783:
Musikalien.
Allen Musikleibhabem dienet hiemit zur Nach=
richt, da£ man bey mir das ganze Jahr mit
den neuesten Musikalien bedient werden kann.
Die Pranumeration auf ein ganzes Jahr ist
12 Fl. Halbjahrig wird voraus bezahlt, und
man empfangt sogleich entweder 3 Sinfonien,
oder 6 Quintetten, oder 6 Quartetten, oder
6 Trios, oder 6 Duetten, oder 6 Sonaten auf
was immer fur ein Instrument, und damit
wird alle 14 Tage abwechselt. Sollten von
den sich vorfindenen Musikalien jemandem wel=
che anstandig seyn; so werden selbige auch bey
mir um einen billigen Preis abgeschrieben;
nur habe zu errinem, dafi man sie bestmdglichst
zu konserviren trachten wolle.
Lorenz Lausch,
Musikalienverleger in der Kamth=
nerstrasse, nachst dem Stock am
Eisen=PIatz Nro. 933.
Music.
This serves as notice to all music lovers, that
I can provide them with the newest music
throughout the entire year. The subscription for
an entire year is 12 gulden. Payment is every six
months, in advance, and one immediately receives
either 3 symphonies, or 6 quintets, or 6 quartets,
or 6 trios, or 6 duets, or 6 sonatas for any instrument
whatsoever, and these will be changed every two
weeks. If one should find among this music some
that is worthwhile, the same can be copied at my
establishment for a low price; I only need to stress that
one must strive to preserve the music as well as
possible.
1 6 0 WZ, Sat, 21 Dec 1782, No. 102. Traeg’s complete advertisement is given in
Chpt. 7.
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146
Lorenz Lausch,
Music publisher in the KMmtnerstrasse
next to Stock-am-Eisen Platz, No. 933.1 6 1
Lausch published a similar announcement in Das Wienerbldttchen on 17 January 1784,
adding that he could also provide musicians for academies or balls.1 6 2
Not to be outdone, Traeg published a similar and even more detailed proposal for
a quarterly rental scheme in an advertisement in the Wiener Zeitung on 25 February
1784:
Nachricht an die Musikliebhaber.
Johann Traeg im Pilatischen Haus am Pe=
ter im ersten Stock hat die Ehre ein hochzu=
ehrendes Publikum zu versichem, daB er, aufge=
muntert durch den ihm bisher geschenkten Bey=
fall, einen Plan entworfen, der den Musik=
liebhabem sehr willkommen seyn wird; da sie
dadurch in den Stand gesetzt werden, mit we=
nigen Kosten durch die besten StUcke der grdB=
ten Meister, so oft es ihnen beliebt, sich zu
vergntigen. Es giebt ndmlich in hiesiger Stadt
mehrere Familien, und einzelne Personen, die
sich wdchentlich durch grosse oder kleine musika=
lische Akademien unterhalten. Viele davon
wollen sich mit Musikalien nicht tiberhaufen,
oder doch wenigstens die Sachen vorlaufig horen
welche sie kaufen wollen. Da ich nun einen
schonen Vorrath von den besten und neuesten
Musikalien in alien Fdchem besitze, auch be=
mliht bin, ihn noch tSglich zu vermehren, so
erbiete ich mich entweder 3 Sinfonien, oder 6
Quintetten, 6 Quarteten, 6 Trios &c. gegen
vierteljahrige Vorausbezahlung von 3 fl., wo=
chentlich auszuleihen. Will jemand zweymal
in der Woche musikalische Akademien geben,
und folglich 6 Sinfonien oder 12 andere Stti=
eke dazu brauchen, der kann sich ebenfalls dar=
auf abonniren, und zahlt vierteljahrig nur 5
1 6 1 WB, Thu, 25 Sep 1783, [134].
1 6 2 WB, Sat, 17 Jan 1784, 166. The end of that advertisement reads: “Ingleichen,
wenn einige Musici zu Akademien oder Tanz nothig sind, so werden selbig auch bey mir
bestellt” (“Similarly, if some musicians are needed for academies or a dance, the same can
also be ordered from me”).
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147
fl. Weil ich mich aber bestreben muB, jeder=
mann richtig zu bedienen, so wird niemand
Bedenken tragen, die empfangene Stticke den
folgenden Tag gleich wieder zurflck zu stellen.
Wegen meiner grossen Bekanntschaft mit den
besten hiesigen Musicis, kann ich auch zu gros=
sen und kleinen Akademien geschickte Musiker
um einen sehr billigen Preis verschaffen. Um
aber diese Auftrage bestens besorgen zu kdnnen,
bitte ich, daB man die Bestellung jederzeit Vor=
mittags bey mir mache___
[Translation]
News for Music Lovers.
Johann Traeg in the Pilatisches Haus on Petersplatz
on the first floor has the honor to assure a highly
honored public that he, encouraged by the acclaim
granted him up to now, has designed a plan which
will be most welcome to music lovers; for they
will thereby be placed in the position to amuse
themselves as often as they wish, at little cost, with
the best pieces of the greatest masters. There are,
namely, in this city several families and individual
persons who entertain themselves weekly with
large or small musical academies. Many of them
wish not to overload themselves with music, or
at least to have a preliminary hearing of the items
they wish to buy. Since I now possess a splendid
supply of the best and newest music of all types,
and am motivated to increase it daily, I thus offer
to lend out on a weekly basis either 3 symphonies,
or 6 quintets, 6 quartets, 6 trios, &c. for a quarterly
advance payment of 3 gulden. If someone wishes
to give musical academies twice a week and
consequently needs for them 6 symphonies or
12 other pieces, he can likewise subscribe for these,
and pays quarterly only S gulden. Because I must,
however, strive to serve everyone properly, no one
will question that the pieces received must be
returned immediately the following day. On account
of my great acquaintance among the best musicians
here, I can also provide skilled musicians for
large and small academies for a very low price.
In order best to be able to meet these commissions,
however, I request that orders always be placed
with me in the mornings 1 6 3
1 6 3 WZ, Wed, 25 Feb 1784, 395-96. My transcription. See also Weinmann,
Anzeigen, 16-17.
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148
Traeg published a similar, if less detailed offer on 27 October 1784.1 6 4 Lausch again
advertised essentially the same scheme that he had offered in January in an advertisement
in Das Wienerbldttchen on 2 July 1784, offering three symphonies or six chamber works
every two weeks, for a payment twice yearly of 6 gulden.1 6 5 It seems likely that these
rental schemes were discontinued after 178S; at any rate, they were apparently no longer
advertised.1 6 6
The copyists may have had greater success as booking agents for musicians.
Lausch had advertised such a service as early as 13 August 1783, also offering to copy
whatever music was brought into his shop:
Anzeige.
Bey Laurenz Lausch, Musikalien=Verleger,
in der Kamtnerstrasse Nr. 933. nSchst dem
Stockameisenplatz
. . . Auch werden Musikalien
zum Kopiren um einen billigen Preis angenom=
men, und mit alien FleiB auf das geschwindeste
expedirt. Man kann auch auf Veriangen Mu=
sici zu Akademien oder Tanzmusik, bey mir
nach Belieben bestellen, welche allzeit bereit
sind; doch bitte mir solches einen Tag oder
etliche Stunden vorher gutigst zu melden, wie
auch die Instrumenta, die man bendthigt, zu
nennen; dann mein Bestreben ist allzeit, je=
dermann auf das beste zu bedienen.
1 6 4 WZ, Wed, 27 Oct 1784,2441: “Auch lehnt er zu grossen und kleinen
Akademien Musikalien gegen einen gewissen Erlag her. So kann man auch zu
Akademien Leute bey ihm bestellen” (“He will also, for a certain fee, lend out music for
large and small academies. One can also place orders with him for [musicians] for
academies”). My transcription; see also Weinmann, Anzeigen, 18.
1 6 5 WB, Fri, 2 Jul 1784, 24.
1 6 6 No further offers of this sort appear in Traeg’s advertisements in the Wiener
Zeitung. Lausch’s advertisements have yet to be comprehensively studied, but no further
offers of this type are currently known.
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149
Announcement
From Lorenz Lausch, music publisher
in the Kamtnerstrasse No. 933, next to the
Stock-am-Eisen
. . . Music will also be
accepted for copying at a low price, and
will be dispatched with all diligence
as quickly as possible. One can also order
from me as needed as many musicians as
desired for academies or dances; these are
always ready; but please be so good as to
call for them a day or a few hours ahead of
time, and also to specify the instruments that
are required; for I strive always to give everyone
the best service.1 6 7
The Lausch firm still offered to provide musicians for dances at least as late as Carnival
1796 (Lausch himself had apparently died in 1794). At the end of the firm’s
advertisement in the Wiener Zeitung on 27 January of that year, one reads; “Man
bekommt allhier gute Saiten. Auch werden hier Musici zum Ball bestellt.” (“One can
obtain good strings here. Musicians for a ball can also be ordered here.”)1 6 8
Traeg also sometimes advertised musical instruments. Over the years, these
included “ein neues Forte-Piano von einem hiesigen geschickten Meister” (“a new
fortepiano by a skilled local master,” 27 October 1784); a large new double-manual
harpsichord (14 September 1785); “2 Waldhomer, worunterein Invenzionshom ist”
(“2 Waldhoms, of which one is an Invenzionshom,” 28 February 1787); a “Piano Forte
und Clavichord” (29 June 1793); a square piano and a double harpsichord suited to an
orchestra (7 August 1793); and a harp by Stadelmann (9 October 1793).1 6 9 Whether
1 6 7 WZ, Wed, 13 Aug 1783, No. 65, Anhang.
1 6 8 WZ, Wed, 27 Jan 1796, 229.
1 6 9 All references are to Traeg’s advertisements in the Wiener Zeitung on the given
dates; see also the transcriptions in Weinmann, Anzeigen. The double harpsichord
advertised on 14 Sep 1785 is described as follows: “Johann Traeg . . . hat die Ehre
anzukiindigen: einen grossen neuen Doppelflugel, der vom tiefen F bis ins vier
gestrichene C geht, 3 Veranderungen und einen sehr guten Ton hat, auch vollkommen zu
einem Orchester eingerichtet ist” (“Johann Traeg. . . has the honor to announce: a large
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150
Traeg was offering these instruments on commission or selling them directly is unknown.
Lausch also occasionally offered instruments. For example, on 9 March 1785, he
advertised “Ein grosses Forte piano mit Ausldsung und dreyerley Tonverilnderungen, von
einem beriihmten Meister” (“A large fortepiano with escapement and three stops, by
a famous master”)-1 7 0
On rare occasions, Traeg offered additional inducements to attract customers.
Perhaps the most entertaining of these is found in his advertisement of 21 December
1785: “Auch ist bey ihm eine schone und grosse Sammlung von Papillonen und seltenen
Kafem, nebst einem dazu gehorigen Kasten um einen billigen Preis zu verkaufen” (“From
him may also be purchased a beautiful and large collection of butterflies and rare beetles,
along with the cabinet belonging to it, for a low price”).1 7 1 This collection of butterflies
and beetles was being offered at a time when Traeg was still running his copying business
out of his home.
Vorlagen
What Vorlagen did music copyists use, and how did they acquire them? In many
cases, of course, a composer’s autograph might itself serve as a Vorlage. Copyists
working for Mozart would normally have copied directly from his autographs. For
operas that were composed specifically for the court theater, such as Le nozze di Figaro or
Cost fan tutte, Sukowaty and his assistants would typically have used the composer’s
autograph as the Vorlage for the performing score, the first-desk string parts, and the
new double harpsichord, which ranges from low F to four-stroke C, has 3 stops and
a very good tone, and is also completely suited to an orchestra”; WZ, Wed, 14 Sep 1785,
2165).
1 7 0 WZ, Wed, 9 Mar 1785, 548.
1 7 1 WZ, Wed, 21 Dec 1785, 2950. See also Table 7.2, and Weinmann, Anzeigen,
22.
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151
wind parts. Duplicate string parts, on the other hand, were probably copied from the
first-desk parts (for more on the organization of labor in Sukowaty’s shop, see Chapter
9). In contrast, the orchestral parts created by Sukowaty’s shop for operas that had first
been performed elsewhere (such as, for example, Sarti’s Fra i due litiganti il terzo gode)
would most often have been based on secondary score copies that had been purchased
directly from other theaters (often through intermediaries) or from some other source.
Indeed, the great majority of the Vorlagen used by Viennese copyists, particularly
those used for commercial copies, must have been copies rather than originals.
Sukowaty’s commercial copies, for example, were almost certainly based on the
performing scores belonging to the court theater. He seems to have had unrestricted and
undisputed access to all of these scores during much or all of his tenure as chief copyist
for the theater. In Chapter 7 ,1 shall suggest that Traeg probably accumulated much of his
large stock of master copies from auctions, estate sales, and the like, and also directly
from composers and other musicians. As we shall see, Traeg was almost certainly
acquainted with Mozart, and he seems to have acquired some of his master copies of
Mozart’s symphonies directly from the composer, or possibly from Constanze Mozart
after her husband’s death.
It is difficult to escape the impression that Lausch may have acquired some of his
Vorlagen in more underhanded ways. He seems to have had little or no direct connection
with the court theater throughout most of the 1780s, yet he seems without fail to have
been able to acquire full scores of every work performed in the theater, including those
that had been especially commissioned and were being performed there for the first
time.1 7 2 He often was able to advertise arrangements of such music within just a few
1 7 2 For more on Lausch, see Chpt. 11.
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152
weeks of the premiere. For example, his first advertisement for Don Giovanni appeared
in the Wiener Zeitung on 24 May 1788, less that three weeks after the Viennese premiere
on 7 May, and it included all three of the pieces that Mozart had composed especially for
that production: the aria “Dalla sua pace,” K. 540a, for Don Ottavio, the duet “Per queste
tue manine,” K. 540b, for Zerlina and Leporello, and the accompanied recitative and aria
“In quali eccesi. . . Mi tradi quell'alma ingrata,” K. 540c, for Donna Elvira.1 7 3 Lausch
offered all of the numbers from the opera in a keyboard reduction by Joseph Heidenreich,
who must, one assumes, have already prepared this reduction by the time of Lausch’s
advertisement. Lausch might, of course, simply have acquired a copy of the score
directly horn Sukowaty. But it is difficult to see why Sukowaty would have agreed to
sell scores to his chief competitor. It seems more likely, then, that Lausch had one or
more “agents” inside Sukowaty’s shop who were able to procure copies for him, perhaps
surreptitiously. As we shall see in Chapter 9, the hands of certain copyists appear in
manuscripts from both shops, and this may be seen as circumstantial evidence that one or
more of these copyists may have functioned as conduits, funneling opera scores to
Lausch.
Needless to say, Mozart received no financial benefit from any of the manuscript
copies sold by Sukowaty, Lausch, or Traeg. Musical copyright was not protected by law
in the Habsburg monarchy at this time, and there was as yet no concept of “royalties.”1 7 4
To be sure, composers had quite well defined notions of their rights over their own
1 7 3 This advertisement is given in full in Deutsch, Dokumente, 277-78. See also the
discussion of the Viennese production of Don Giovanni in Chpt. 9.
1 7 4 For a general treatment of the history of musical copyright to 1800, see
Hansjorg Pohlmann, Die Friihgeschichte des musikalischen Urheberrechts (ca. 1400-
1800), Musikwissenschaftliche Arbeiten, Gesellschaft fU r Musikforschung, vol. 20
(Kassel: Barenreiter, 1962). For a brief discussion of the problem of musical copyright
with specific reference to Mozart, see idem, “Mozart und das Urheberrecht,” Acta
Mozartiana 6, no. 2 (1959): 22-31.
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153
artistic production, and they were not slow to protest or even to threaten legal action when
they felt that these rights had been violated. In a celebrated letter to Artaria dated
7 October 1787, Haydn made just such threats regarding Lausch, whom Artaria had
accused of stealing the quartets that he was about to publish (probably op. 50):
Estoras den 7“ 8* 1787
Mon tres cher amj.
Die quartetten, so ich eben heute abspielen lasse, werde ich Ihnen bey
allererster gelegenheit (ibersenden, weil ich dieselben mit der brieftasche
nicht iiberschicken kan. Ich erstaunte iiber Duen vorlezten Brief wegen
dem Diebstahl der quartetten. ich versichere Sie bey meiner Ehre, daB
solche von meinem Copisten, der der aller Ehrlichste Kerl ist, nicht sind
abcopirt worden, sondem Ihr eigener Copist ist ein Spitzbub, da Er
diesen Winter dem Meinigen 8 Species Ducaten anerboten, wan Er Dun
die 7 wort zukomen last, ich bedaure, daB ich nicht selbst in wienn seyn
kan, um denselben Arretiren zu lassen: meine Meinung ware, den Herm
Lausch zum Herm v. Augusti dermaligen Biirgermeister citiren zu
lassen, daB Er es gestehen, von wem derselbe die quartetten habe. Herr
v. Augusti ist mein alter guter Freund und wird Ihnen hierinfals ganz
sich beystehen, so wie Er mir schon einmahl, in eben einer solchen
Affaire beygestanden. ungeachtet Sie alles in Ihrem gewfilb schreiben
lassen kdnnen Sie doch betrogen werden, weil die Spitzbuben untenher
a parte ein Blat Papier haben, worauf Sie unbemerkt nach und nach die
vor sich liegenden stim abschreiben. mir ist sehr leyd, das Ihnen diese
FatalitMt geschehen, in Hinkunft werd ich Ihnen zur sicherheit meinen
eignenen Copisten hinaufschicken. bin mit aUer Hochachtung
Dero
ganz Ergebenster diener
Haydn.
Eszterhaza, 7 Oct 1787
Mon tres cher ami,
I shall send you the quartets—which I am having played through just
today—at the very first opportunity, because I cannot send them with
the post bag. I was astonished at your letter before last, concerning the
theft of the quartets. I assure you on my honor, that these were not
copied by my copyist, who is the most honorable feUow, but rather your
own copyist is a scoundrel, since last winter he offered mine 8 species
ducats if he would give him the Seven Words. I regret that I cannot be
in Vienna myself, in order to have him arrested: my view would be to
have Herr Lausch summoned before Herr von Augusti, the present
mayor, so that he would admit from whom he had the quartets. Herr
von Augusti is my old, good friend, and will support you completely in
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154
this matter, just as he once supported me in just such an affair. Even if
you have everything written in your shop you can still nevertheless be
betrayed, because the scoundrels have a piece of paper underneath the
part, whereby they can little by little copy the part they have in front of
them. I am terribly sorry that this great misfortune has befallen you. In
the future I shall, for security, send my own copyist to you. I am, with
all respect
Your
most humble servant
Haydn1 7 5
Haydn’s “my copyist” may refer to Peter Rampl (formerly known as Anonymous 63)
about whom I shall have more to say in Chapter 8.1 7 6 The “scoundrel” who worked for
Artaria has not been identified, although the letter can be read as implying that it is
Lausch, whose association with Artaria is otherwise undocumented. But Haydn might
conceivably have been referring to Joseph Arthofer, who, as we shall see in Chapter 5,
did indeed have an association of some sort with Artaria. Haydn’s warning to Artaria
“even if you have everything written in your shop” implies that music dealers did not
always have music copied in their shops, but perhaps allowed contracting copyists to do
their work elsewhere.
In the event, Haydn seems not to have taken any action in the affair. Dittersdorf
was probably referring to this same incident in a letter to Artaria nearly a year later, on
18 August 1788, which he sent along with a packet of quartets:
Ich muB noch hinzufugen, daB noch niemand diese a quadro (so wie die
von Ihnen aufgelegten a quadro von Hayden nicht nur der hiesige Fiirst,
sondem verschiedene andere gegen eine Pranumeration von 6 Dukaten
lange vorhero in Abschrift hatten, ehe sie bei Ihnen gestochen
herauskamen) hat und sogar von Niemanden . . . gehort worden
sind . . .
I must add that no one else has these quartets yet (in contrast to the
quartets by Haydn that you published, which not just the Prince here,
1 7 5 Bartha, Haydn Briefe, 179-80, item 98. My translation. A different translation
is given in Landon, Haydn at Eszterhaza, 699.
1 7 6 See Thomas, “Haydn’s Copyist Peter Rampl,” 90.
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155
but also various others had in manuscript copy on a subscription of
6 ducats, long before they appeared in your engraving). . . and they
have been heard by no one.. .1 7 7
If Dittersdorf is correct, then Lausch, if it was indeed he who stole the quartets, seems to
have had the gall to offer them on subscription.
Yet Mozart, apart from his letter of 15 May 1784 cited earlier in this chapter, seems
to have complained relatively rarely about the dishonesty of Viennese copyists, and there
seems to be no question that Sukowaty was generally regarded as having the legal right to
reproduce the operas that had been performed in the court theater and to profit from those
reproductions, without in any way sharing those profits with the composer. This
arrangement seems simply to have been a fact of musical life at the time, one with which
composers coped by controlling whenever possible the initial distribution of a work (as
Mozart attempted to do with his concertos). Once the cat was out of the bag, there was no
way to get it back in.
Accuracy
Music copyists in general, and Viennese copyists in particular, have a poor
reputation for accuracy. For example, H. C. Robbins Landon writes of ‘The incredible
inefficiency of the average copyist”1 7 8 Mozart himself seems to imply much the same in
a letter to his father dated 4 July 1781, already cited in Chapter 1. He asks Leopold to
have several works copied in Salzburg:
denn das Copiaturgeld tragt hier gar zu viel aus; und sie schreiben gar zu
unchristlich.
1 7 7 Cited in Bartha, Haydn Briefe, 180-81.
1 7 8 H. C. Robbins Landon, The Symphonies o f Joseph Haydn (London: Universal
Edition and Rockliff, 1955), 29.
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156
For the cost of copying here comes to far too much; and their writing is
far too ungodly.1 7 9
One should keep in mind, however, that Mozart had only recently settled in Vienna when
he wrote this, and his experience with Viennese copyists was still slight He may have
been overgeneralizing based on one or two unsatisfactory experiences. Furthermore,
Mozart may have exaggerated the point in order to persuade his father to have the pieces
copied in Salzburg, in order to avoid the expense of the copying. (It is sometimes helpful
in this regard to read Mozart’s early Viennese letters to Leopold as if he were an
undergraduate writing home from college.)
Mozart’s “unchristlich” can hardly have been aimed at the overall appearance of
Viennese copies. Professional Viennese copies, particularly those from Sukowaty’s
shop, are almost always extremely clear, easy to read, even elegant. Nor should we
assume that the notions of “inaccuracy” and “error” in Mozart’s day were the same as they
are today. As we shall see, the wide variety of articulations in eighteenth-century
Viennese copies intended for performance—even those copied from the same
Vorlage—suggests that absolute fidelity to a model was not a priority for eighteenth-
century copyists or composers.
In March 1779, Artaria advertised an edition of duets by Conrad Breunig. The
advertisement stressed that the publication had been proofread, in order to avoid the many
corrections one found in handwritten music:
Nachricht.
Artaria & Comp. Kunsthandler am Kohl=
markt der Michaelerkirche gegeniiber haben aber=
mal sechs neue Duetten fiir 1 Violin und Al
to Viola von Herm Conrad Breunig (von
Mainz) in Stich verfertigen lassen. Dem Ge=
schmack und Ausfiihrung der Musik nach hoffen
MBA, III/137.
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157
sie die Zufiriedenheit der Tonkunst= Freunden zu
erhalten, und um so mehr, da dieses schon
das 7te Werk ist, welches von diesem Meister
dffentlich erscheinet An Netdgkeit des Stiches
mit alien ndthigen deutlichen Anzeigen, und
Corrector (welchem man in geschriebenen afters
unterworfen ist) haben sie nichts ermangeln las=
sen, um ihre Ausgabe in diesem Fache der Pa=
riser und Amsterdamer nicht minder schdn zu
seyn. Der Preis ist fur das Werk 2 fl. 30 kr...
News.
Artaria & Comp., art dealers on the Kohlmarkt across
from St. Michael’s church, have once again had
engraved six new duets for one violin and alto viola by
Herr Conrad Breunig (of Mainz). Through the taste
and execution of the music they hope to achieve the
satisfaction of friends of music, all the more so
because this is already the seventh opus by this master
which has appeared publicly. They have allowed
nothing to be omitted in regard to the quality of the
engraving, with all necessary clear indications and
corrections (to which one is frequently subjected in
handwritten music), in order that their edition in this
field be no less beautiful than the Parisians’ and
Amsterdamers’. The price for the opus is 2 fl. 30
k r. . . .1 8 °
Yet the number of out-and-out wrong notes in sources produced for performance by
professional Viennese copyists (such as, for example, opera parts copied by Sukowaty
and his assistants) seems relatively low. One can easily imagine, in fact, that professional
music copyists working under such circumstances would have been under a great deal
more pressure to be accurate than were copyists who prepared music for sale—or, for that
matter, copyists who prepared written texts, where small errors of spelling would not
normally seem as jarring as, say, a discordant note in the winds during a performance of
an aria.
1 8 0 WZ, Wed, 10 Mar 1779, No. 20, Nachtrag [n.p.]. This advertisement was
repeated on 13 Mar (No. 21) and 17 Mar (No. 22).
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158
At any rate, Viennese copyists who advertised were at pains to promise accuracy.
Herr Politzer, in an advertisement in Das Wienerblattchen on Friday, 13 August 1784
went so far as to guarantee the accuracy of his work:
Alles, was bestellt wird, soli fehlerfrey geschrieben seyn. Sollte wider
Verhoffen ein Schreibfehler sich einfinden, hat der Besteller das Recht
die Stimme neuerdings zu fodem, und die gefehlte zuriickzustellen
Everything that is ordered will be written without mistakes. Should, in
spite of every effort, an error creep in, the customer has the right to
demand the part anew, and to return the faulty one.1 8 1
Such guarantees appear to have been rare, and so far as we know, Politzer did not make
a go of it as a copyist.
However, most successful copyists promised that their copies would be “clean and
correct.” We have seen an example earlier in this chapter, in Sukowaty’s advertisement
on 12 February 1785 of “sauber und korrekt” copies (this phrase and slight variations on
it seem to have been standard formulae applied to manuscript copies in Vienna at the
time). There was even an evident concern with what we might call the “authenticity” of
copies (about which more will be said in Chapter 4): for example, on 9 March 1785
Lausch advertised three Haydn symphonies “nach dem Original kopirt.”1 8 2 It is unknown
whether he meant to imply by this that the copies were made directly from Haydn’s
autograph, or whether he perhaps merely wanted to imply that his Vorlagen were directly
descended from the autographs. It is clear, at any rate, that many of Lausch’s sources
were what we today would call “pirated,” in that they were not authorized either explicitly
or implicitly by the composer.
1 8 1 WB, Fri, 13 Aug 1784, 123. The verb “verhoffen” is, in modem German,
a hunter’s term referring to an animal that stands motionless smelling the wind for
danger.
1 8 2 WZ, Wed, 9 Mar 1785, 548.
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159
As I have suggested Sukowaty and his assistants usually copied at least the
performing score and the first-desk parts of new operas directly from the composers’
autographs (thus, for example, the surviving performing materials for Mozart’s Viennese
operas were almost all copied from his autographs). The extent to which composers
corrected or had the opportunity to correct these copies is a question we shall need to
consider. Many of the invoices of Esterhdzy copyists are signed by Haydn with a phrase
such as “Diese obstehende 540 bogen sind von mir genau (ibersehen, und ftir richtig
Erfunden worden” (“The 540 Bogen listed above have been carefully looked over by me
and found to be correct”).1 8 3
Gross errors of copying were avoided by the simple if crude expedient of counting
measures. In many (but by no means all) professionally-produced Viennese musical
manuscripts, the copyists have written the number of measures after the double bar at the
end of each movement or vocal number. (For examples, see Figures 9.21 and 9.27,
from the original orchestral parts for Le nozze di Figaro.)
We have little direct documentary evidence about the extent to which supervising
copyists checked and corrected the work of their assistants. For such copies, as well as
for copies produced under the supervision of a composer, we shall therefore want to pay
particularly close attention to the extent of corrections— especially in manuscripts that
appear not to have been used, as these will provide the most unambiguous evidence
concerning whether or not copies were checked. (Corrections in manuscripts used in
performance may have been made by anyone at any time during the useful life of the
manuscript, and the authority of such corrections is consequently much more difficult to
determine.)
1 8 3 From Johann Schellinger’s invoice of 20 Jun 1782, printed in Bartha, Haydn
Briefe, 114.
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160
Conclusion
In this chapter we have investigated the contexts of professional music copying in
Vienna during the last quarter of the eighteenth century. We have been able to uncover
the names of well over fifty men who worked as music copyists during that period, or
who sold manuscript music copied by others. This is more than twice the number of
music copyists uncovered by Hannelore Gericke for the entire first three-quarters of the
century. This evident increase in the number of active copyists provides us with yet
another index of the rapid expansion of the Viennese music market in the late eighteenth
century. The intense competition among the many copyists and music publishers
probably tended to keep rates low and profit margins thin. Most copyists—with the
notable exception of Sukowaty—died destitute. Many performing musicians probably
turned to copying in order to help make ends meet, but a significant number of the most
important copyists in Vienna during this period seem to have made music copying their
principal profession. Although we have been able to uncover the names of more than
fifty men who worked as copyists, relatively few of these names can at present be
conclusively linked to a particular hand. In the following chapter, we shall investigate the
methods for identifying musical handwriting and for dating the manuscripts in which it
occurs, methods which will allow us to keep track of copyists, anonymous or otherwise.
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Chapter 3
The Analysis of Manuscript Music and Musical Handwriting
161
Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter.
Twelfth Night. 3.2
Writing is in reality the visible record o f a m ovem ent. . .
Albert S. Osborn
Introduction
Suppose that we are examining a musical manuscript “cold”—that we have to
evaluate it without benefit of secondary scholarly apparatus or received opinion about its
provenance. Perhaps, at best, we may have at our disposal sufficient information to be
relatively confident of the identity of the work and composer; often, however, we may not
know even that much. Perhaps the manuscript bears written inscriptions of one sort or
another attesting to the authenticity of the handwriting or the authorship of the work (such
as the inscriptions of Georg Nikolaus Nissen on many of Mozart's autographs), or
perhaps it bears the marks of previous owners. Experience shows, however, that such
marks can often be misleading or even wrong: an attestation is only as reliable as the
person who wrote it. For that matter, we may not be able to identify the hand of the
attestation or owners’ marks. How, then, are we to come to an informed judgment about
the manuscript’s date and geographical provenance, and its relationship to other sources?
It may seem that stemmatics might help in answering these questions. However,
stemmatics, in its classical form, deals only with textual readings and scarcely takes
chronology into account, except in the cmde sense of recognizing that an exemplar must
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162
predate any copy made from i t 1 In fact, if I were today to make a manuscript copy of
a Mozart autograph, my copy would be on the same level of the stemma as any other
copy made directly from the autograph, whether that copy was made in 1790 or 1990.
In determining the provenance of a manuscript and its relationship to other musical
sources, our primary source of evidence, then, is the object itself: the musical
manuscript, and the notation and other handwriting on it. We need, therefore, to
investigate as closely as possible the paper of which the manuscript consists, taking into
account its substance, size, quality, watermarks, and staff ruling; and we need also to
investigate the color and constituents of the ink and any other substances that have been
used to mark the paper. We then need to scrutinize the musical notation and other
handwriting on the manuscript, with a view toward distinguishing how many different
hands are present in the manuscript and whose hands these are. All of this information
will then be used to help determine the manuscript’s provenance, to clarify its relationship
to other sources—and ultimately to make a judgment of its relative value as a source.
The quality of previous scholarship on the physical aspects of musical manuscripts
and their handwriting has been, at best, mixed. While some very good work has been
done by individual scholars and in some specialized areas of study (such as, for example,
Bach manuscripts), the methods used by those scholars and in those specialized areas
have not, by and large, come into general use by the wider community of music
1 For example, Paul Maas has little to say about the dates of “witnesses” (his term
for sources) in his Textual Criticism, trans. Barbara Flower (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1958). At one point he writes: “As all copies must be later in date than their exemplars,
we can often ascertain which witness is to be treated as the exemplar if we can fix the date
of the script in each case” (op. cit., 4). Later he makes the somewhat peculiar comment
that “the archetype must be earlier than the time of the earliest datable variant (not only
than the earliest datable variant-carrier) and later than the date of the latest datable
corruption” (op. cit., 15).
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163
historians.2 Thus the general level of manuscript analysis in the study of music has
tended to remain low and even rather amateurish. The present chapter, drawing on some
of the best scholarship on paper and handwriting in a variety of Helds, both musical and
non-musical, attempts to establish reliable and accurate principles and procedures for the
study of musical manuscripts.
Most of the musical manuscripts considered in this dissertation are written in the
hands of unidentiHed music copyists. Although we will sometimes have occasion to
identify one copyist or another by name with more or less certainty, most of the hands are
anonymous and are likely to remain so. Is it possible reliably to distinguish and identify
the hands of anonymous music copyists? The problem of identifying and keeping track
of eighteenth-century Viennese music copyists has often been regarded as intractable, and
few scholars have made more than half-hearted attempts to come to grips with it.
Admittedly, the problem is daunting. The number of copies and hands is extremely large,
and few manuscripts are dated or signed. However, I hope to show that the problem may
be fruitfully approached through the application of a consistent and carefully considered
method of handwriting identification, informed by a clear and detailed understanding of
the context of music copying in eighteenth-century Vienna.
In examining any particular manuscript of a work by Mozart, we may begin with
three fundamental questions: Is the manuscript an original or a copy? Is it “Viennese”?
Does it date Horn Mozart’s lifetime?
2 The lack of diffusion of reliable methods of manuscript analysis may be due, in
part, to a general lack of preparation in this area in the education of most musicologists.
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164
Is the manuscript an original or a copy?
This first question is insufficiently precise in its formulation: as we have seen in the
previous chapter, an artifact identified as a “manuscript” or an “autograph” may consist of
layers of entries in different hands, or entries by the same hand made at different times.
Even in the case of Mozart, few manuscripts can be regarded as “pure autograph
originals” of complete single works: that is, as single manuscripts, entirely in Mozart’s
hand, written in one reasonably continuous flow, of a single musical work (begging the
question, for the moment, of how “work” can be defined), without later corrections,
revisions, emendations, or alterations. Most surviving autographs (even Mozart’s
sketches) show at least some marks added by others. In most cases, to be sure, these
marks (such as Nissen’s attestations of authenticity) are usually readily distinguishable
from the musical text and from Mozart’s handwriting.
Is the manuscript “Viennese”?
It seems sensible, in referring to the place of production of eighteenth-century
musical manuscripts, to define “Viennese” in a relatively narrow way. When referring to
musical style, we may wish to define “Viennese” quite broadly, to include towns (such as
PreBburg), monasteries (such as Melk), and estates (such as Eszterhdza) at some distance
from Vienna, but within its cultural orbit. In the study of a manuscript’s provenance, on
the other hand, we normally wish to be able to pinpoint more precisely where and when
the manuscript was created: we would like, therefore, to be able to differentiate among
manuscripts produced in Vienna, PreBburg, Melk, or Eszterhaza. In the present study
I shall regard as “Viennese” any manuscript that was produced within the city of Vienna
as it existed in the eighteenth century: that is, a manuscript that was produced within the
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165
city itself (within the city walls, roughly where the RingstraBe is today), or in one of its
immediate suburbs, such as Wieden, Landstrafie, Leopoldstadt, or Rossau.3
Unfortunately, musical manuscripts rarely carry any direct indication that they were
produced in Vienna. Occasionally, to be sure, a commercial copy may include the
address of the copyist; for example, the commercial copies of the principal copyist of the
Viennese court theater, Wenzel Sukowaty, often include his address on the title page. By
and large, however, Viennese copies (or copies that we suspect may be Viennese) lack the
names and addresses of copyists. In the absence of direct evidence, then, we must rely
on indirect and circumstantial evidence in order to determine a manuscript’s place of
origin. This evidence may include paper-types, identifiable handwritings (musical and
otherwise), the identity of the work copied, and any collateral supporting documentation
that may shed light on the provenance of the manuscript, such as letters or receipts.
The music paper preferred by most Viennese music copyists and composers
(including Mozart) was high-quality handmade rag paper from northern Italy— mainly
from the Veneto and Lombardy, regions which had close political and economic ties with
the Habsburg monarchy. These papers were generally a variety of the “royal” (“REAL”)
size especially suitable to music. Their quality—relatively heavy and durable, but of
a fine appearance and well-suited for writing—seems to have been indicated by the
presence of three crescent moons, or sometimes three stars or some other device.
Consequently, both “REAL” and three crescent moons appear extremely frequently in the
marks and countermarks of these papers.
3 In some cases, we may need to use less precise regional designations: we may
wish to say that a manuscript “probably comes from Lower Austria,” or “is possibly of
Bohemian origin.”
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Indeed, these marks are so common that one often reads in the literature on
eighteenth-century Viennese music that a particular manuscript has the “familiar’’ or
“usual” three-moons, or “REAL” watermark. One even occasionally reads that “REAL”
paper with three crescent moons is “Viennese.” This is, of course, simply wrong.
Crescent moons were so widely used in hundreds of watermarks by many Italian makers,
in hundreds or thousands of batches of paper over so many decades, that their presence
tells us next to nothing about the identity of the watermark or the date of the paper, and it
is insufficient to determine whether a manuscript written on such paper comes from
Vienna. (Of course, precise measurements, tracings, or facsimile images of the three
moons and the “REAL,” when considered in association with the rest of the watermark,
countermark, and measurements of the staff ruling, can be useful in helping to identify
and date a particular paper-type.)
It is true that northern Italian paper was very widely used by musicians in Vienna,
but its presence in a manuscript is no guarantee that the manuscript is Viennese, nor is its
absence proof that a manuscript is not Viennese. Paper of this sort was used elsewhere
(in Italy, for example, and also in the Ottoman Empire). On the other hand, Viennese
composers and copyists did not exclusively use Italian paper, which was relatively
expensive. One sometimes finds, particularly in parts intended for performance, local
Austrian or Bohemian papers, usually of a lower and cheaper grade. The best we can
say, then, is that Italian music papers of a particular size and grade were typically used in
Vienna in the eighteenth century (and probably earlier). The presence of such paper is
consistent with Viennese provenance, but does not prove it. On the other hand, the
presence of a paper not typically used in Vienna—say, for example, French paper, or
south German paper—may perhaps count as evidence against Viennese provenance,
although it does not, of course, disprove it.
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It has long been recognized that eighteenth-century Viennese music copyists tended
to have a distinctive style of handwriting, and the claims of some scholars that a particular
manuscript is Viennese have often been based on the observation that the hand or hands in
it look “Viennese.” To my knowledge, however, the elements of Viennese style in
musical notation have never been described; I shall attempt to describe them later on in
this chapter, in the section “The Identification of Musical Handwriting.” For the current
discussion of provenance, however, we need merely to note the following points: (1) the
presence of a “Viennese” hand or hands in a musical manuscript does not prove that the
manuscript originated in Vienna, and (2) the absence of a typically Viennese hand does
not prove that the manuscript did not originate in Vienna.
These points are obvious, but are often overlooked. A copyist or musician trained
in Vienna may later move to another city, but continue to produce manuscripts in
a “Viennese” hand. For example, many Mozart manuscripts in the library of the
Conservatorio di Musica Luigi Cherubini in Florence, including sets of parts for several
of Mozart’s operas, were written down by hands at least some of which appear Viennese.
The presence of “Viennese” hands in Florentine manuscripts is not difficult to explain:
Florence was home to the court of the Archduke of Tuscany, and Tuscany was at that
time ruled by the Habsburgs—until 1790, by Leopold (Pietro Leopoido, later Emperor
Leopold II, the next younger brother of Emperor Joseph II), and from 1790 by his son
Ferdinand (as Ferdinand III). It is quite possible, therefore, that musicians and copyists
trained in Vienna were attached to the Florentine court, and that this is the reason some
manuscripts appear Viennese when in fact they may have been produced locally. It is also
possible, of course, that the Florentine court imported music from Vienna. However, the
essential point is that a manuscript that appears Viennese need not actually have been
produced there.
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Similarly, manuscripts written in Michael Haydn’s hand may appear Viennese,
because he received his musical training there and his hand shows many characteristics of
the Viennese style; but he spent most of his career in Salzburg. In contrast, Beethoven,
who received his early musical training in Bonn, never adopted any Viennese
characteristics in his musical handwriting, even though he spent his entire adult career
there. The same can be said of Mozart, whose hand, modeled on that of his father, did
not take on any noticeably Viennese characteristics during the decade that the composer
lived there. Thus the presence of a “Viennese” hand is neither necessary nor sufficient
evidence to show that a manuscript was produced in Vienna. It merely suggests that the
manuscript may have been produced there.
The identity of the work copied may also provide circumstantial evidence for the
provenance of the manuscript. Consider, for example, the Hamburg score of Der Stein
der Weisen, discussed in the preceding chapter. This Singspiel was written and first
produced in Vienna. Although it was fairly widely performed in German-speaking lands,
one is inclined to suspect from the outset that most surviving manuscript copies of it
originated in Vienna.4 When, in addition, one finds that the score in Hamburg was
written by several identifiable Viennese hands, on Italian paper-types at least some of
which were known to have been used in Vienna in the 1790s, the argument would seem
to be clinched—although one must always remain alert for anomalous cases, of a work
(to take an imagined example) that was perhaps copied by Viennese copyists in the
entourage of a traveling aristocrat visiting Hamburg, written on Venetian paper that had
4 Three full scores of Der Stein der Weisen are known to survive: one in Hamburg
(D-Hs, ND V II174), another in Frankfurt (D-F, Mus Hs Opem 508), and a third in
Berlin (D-B, Mus. Ms. anon. 1451). All of these scores are almost certainly Viennese in
origin. A piano-vocal score in Florence (I-Fc, Ms. 738) has long been unavailable to
scholars, but is said to come from the Viennese shop of Lorenz Lausch.
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been purchased in Vienna. However, the more complex these imagined alternative
scenarios become, the less plausible they will probably seem.
Archival documents, such as receipts from copyists, or correspondence regarding
the purchase of copies, can also lend strong support to a case for Viennese provenance.
As Stephen C. Fisher has shown, many of the copies of Haydn’s symphonies in the
Oettingen-Wallerstein collection are in the hands of Viennese copyists, some of whom can
be identified by name using receipts in the court’s archive.5 Some of the manuscript
copies that Mozart sent to Donaueschingen in 1786 were, until recently, still in that
archive. They can be identified because Mozart mentions in a letter that he had sent them,
and because some of the surviving copies contain entries in his hand.6
Does the manuscript date from M ozart’s lifetime?
Whatever approach we may take to the critical evaluation of musical sources, we
will want to draw a distinction between manuscripts that were produced during Mozart’s
lifetime, and those that were produced after his death. Manuscripts produced during his
lifetime could, at least hypothetically, have had some direct connection with the
composer, in the sense that he could have owned them, used them, arranged for their
production, and possibly even corrected them. Those produced after his death, whatever
value they may have as textual sources, cannot have been used or corrected by Mozart.
The dating of eighteenth-century Viennese manuscripts is not an advanced science.
Apart from quite restricted domains, such as Mozart’s autographs or manuscripts
5 See Stephen C. Fisher, “Haydn’s Overtures and Their Adaptations as Concert
Orchestral Works” (Ph.D. diss., University of Pennsylvania, 1985), especially Appendix
C, “Five Groups of Viennese Hands in the Former Oettingen-Wallerstein Collection,”
444-82.
6 See the discussion in Chpt. 2 on the surviving parts for the symphonies K. 319,
K. 338, and K. 425.
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produced by copyists working for Haydn, most dating has continued to be based mainly
on guesswork. A more rigorous analysis is needed. What, then, are some of the general
factors and constraints bearing on the dating of musical manuscripts?
First, there are obvious logical constraints. A manuscript as a whole cannot predate
the earliest piece in it (it is, of course, possible for one section of a manuscript to predate
another section). Manuscripts in the hand of a particular person cannot date from after
that person’s death or before his or her birth. As we have already noted, copies must
necessarily post-date their Vorlagen. But again, particularly for complex manuscripts and
for larger works such as operas, we need to remain alert for anomalies: for example,
a copy of one part of an opera may predate the Vorlage for another, if the composer
completed the first before the second. Indeed, there is good reason to believe that Mozart
gave sections of Le nozze di Figaro to Wenzel Sukowaty as they were completed, so that
copying could begin before the opera as a whole was finished. (As I shall show in
Chapter 9, the opera was, in a non-trivial sense, not completed in Mozart’s autograph at
all, but rather in the parts and conducting score used for the first performances).
As we shall see later on in this chapter, music paper from northern Italy that
includes the word “REAL” in the watermark most likely dates from after a Venetian
decree of 1774 regulating the sizes of paper. Northern Italian music papers ceased to be
available in Vienna at some point in the first decade of the nineteenth century, probably
after Austria’s loss to Napoleon in the battle of Austerlitz in 1805, and the Habsburg
monarchy’s subsequent loss of Venice under the Treaty of PreBburg.7 These two dates
provide us with crude but useful boundaries for our initial evaluation of manuscripts
written on northern Italian paper of this general sort.
7 See the discussion later in this chapter, in the section “The Analysis of Music
Paper.”
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Analytical bibliographers have generally come to accept several rules of thumb for
the dating of hand-made paper and the molds used in its production. I shall discuss these
rules of thumb later on in this chapter, but it is useful to summarize them here, as they are
crucial to any attempt to apply paper evidence to questions of dating and chronology, and
they have by and large not penetrated the scholarly literature on music and musical
sources.
It is thought that paper-makers’ molds normally lasted only about a year, and that
the watermarks sewn into those molds had even briefer lives, lasting perhaps only six
months.8 Furthermore, watermarks tended to change throughout the period of their use,
going through cycles of deterioration and repair that result in identifiable “states” of the
mold and watermark. Paper was usually sold by paper-makers within one to three years
of its manufacture (paper was generally allowed to “cure” for a period of time after it was
made), and there is little evidence that paper-makers warehoused stocks of paper for
extended periods.9
Our interpretation of the evidence of watermarks and staff ruling depends crucially
on two things: our knowledge of the contemporaneous paper trade and the resulting
patterns in the commercial sale and distribution of paper; and our knowledge of and
assumptions about the patterns of paper use by individuals and organizations.
Alan Tyson has suggested that Mozart’s own use of paper followed a fairly
consistent pattern: that the composer purchased paper in small quantities, and usually
exhausted each batch before buying the next1 0 As we shall see, Tyson’s assumptions
8 See Allan Stevenson, The Problem o f the Missale Speciale (London: The
Bibliographical Society, 1967), 316, n. 4, with reference to work on this topic by Alfred
Schulte.
9 See Stevenson, The Problem o f the M issale Speciale, esp. 53-54.
1 0 See the discussion at the end of this chapter.
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about Mozart’s use of paper can be questioned on a number of grounds. For the present,
however, it is sufficient to recognize that patterns in the use of paper vary among
individuals, and the patterns of use by organizations, such as music printers or copy
shops, tend to differ from those of individuals. Allan Stevenson has convincingly argued
that printers normally used “runs" of paper that is, they acquired a stock of paper
estimated to be sufficient for a particular project, printed on that stock until it was more or
less exhausted, and then acquired whatever new stocks of paper were necessary to
complete the project.1 1 It seems logical to assume that a music copying establishment,
such as Sukowaty’s, might have consumed paper in a similar way when working on large
projects, such as operas. Surviving scores and parts from Sukowaty’s shop seem to
support this hypothesis.
This pattern in the use of paper is, of course, similar to the one Tyson claims for
Mozart, but with a considerable difference in scale: a printer may purchase many reams
of paper for a particular print run, and at the end be left with only a handful of odd
remnant sheets. Mozart, on the other hand, would have bought relatively small quantities
of paper—probably a quire or two—and his stock of odd sheets and remnants would,
proportionately, have represented a larger percentage of the paper in his possession at any
given time, especially as he was unlikely to have been able to estimate with any accuracy
ahead of time how much paper any particular composition was likely to require.
As Stevenson notes, individuals may tend to keep on hand small stocks of paper of
various sorts for many years:
1 1 Stevenson, The Problem o f the Missale Speciale, esp. Chpt. 6, “Runs and
Remnants”: “Now a study of such runs, in these and other books, shows that in general
a printer preferred to use up one stock of paper before moving on to the next. . . ”
(p. 74).
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It has always been true that a man who buys a supply of writing paper
may, at his discretion, use it up within a few months, or else allow it to
linger within his desk or workroom for a number of years. The better
the quality of the paper, the more unusual its size, the more likely he will
save some of it for future convenience. If in 1450 (say) a paper
merchant sold a scrivener a half-ream of royal paper, the latter might
have used it for indentures or other large legal forms (for clients who
could not afford parchment) over a good many years. In the long run
his son might have come upon a remnant of this paper among his
father’s effects—and found a sheet of it convenient (say) for listing his
gambling debts.1 2
To give a personal example: as I write this, I am living in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
However, I lived in Europe for many years, first in Vienna and then in Britain. Since
returning to the United States I have carefully retained stocks of lined note paper and
music paper in standard European A4 format, in case I should happen to need them (the
majority of my research notes on Mozart’s copyists are in A4 format and kept in A4
binders). Some of these small stocks of A4 paper 1 purchased many years ago—as much
as ten years ago or more, in some cases. Thus the presence of a particular paper-
type—whether in my notes or in the manuscripts of any other individual—cannot prove
a particular date. It can only suggest one or provide corroborating evidence for one that
has already been hypothesized.
The implements with which a manuscript or inscription was written can also
provide evidence for dating. As we shall see, quill pens were in practically universal use
in the eighteenth century. Steel pens did not come into widespread use until the second
quarter of the nineteenth century. Thus evidence of a steel or metal pen in a manuscript or
inscription will ordinarily suggest a date no earlier than about 1825.
1 2 Stevenson, The Problem o f the Missale Speciale, 91. This passage is quoted at
slightly greater length in Alec Hyatt King’s review of Alan Tyson, Mozart: Studies o f the
Autograph Scores, in Journal o f Musicological Research 8, nos. 3-4 (1989): 386-95,
here 388.
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The most common writing ink in Mozart’s lifetime and throughout the nineteenth
century was “iron-gall ink.” There were no significant changes in the chemistry o f this
type of ink until around the middle of the nineteenth century. Thus the presence of iron-
gall ink, in itself, gives little help in determining the date of a manuscript Within certain
restricted domains, however, the color of the ink may be able to provide us with
information about the geographical provenance of a manuscript or even its date.
The musical and textual handwriting of a particular person may change over time.
These changes are often sufficiently well-defined and consistent to allow the handwriting
to be used as evidence for dating particular manuscripts. This method works particularly
well for celebrated composers, such as Johann Sebastian Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven,
for whom a large number of dated autographs survive. It is of less immediate use,
however, for most lesser-known composers and for music copyists, for whom the
number of confidently identified and dated manuscripts may be extremely small.
However, in this dissertation I shall occasionally be able to point to possible
chronological variants in a few hands.
The physical evidence derived from a manuscript is never considered in isolation. It
is analyzed in light of its possible relationship to other manuscripts with which it may be
associated, and any documentary and contextual evidence that may bear on its provenance
and date. The provenance of many of the manuscripts considered in this dissertation can
be traced with a high degree of confidence: as we shall see in Chapter 8, many of the
non-autograph manuscripts from Mozart’s “estate” can be traced through the
correspondence of Constanze Mozart and Johann Anton Andre, and through Andre’s
catalogues of his manuscripts of Mozart’s music. In Chapter 9 we shall see that the
surviving original performing scores of Mozart’s operas and insertion arias for the
Viennese court theater can be traced back directly to the theater’s archives.
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Pens and inks
Musical manuscripts produced in Vienna in the eighteenth century were usually
written with iron-gall ink and quill pens. Although metal pens were not entirely
unknown, quill pens were still almost universally used in Europe during the closing
decades of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth. Joe Nickell, in
Detecting Forgery, writes:
Although there are isolated references to metal pens over the centuries,
the steel pens were not significantly used until after 1780, when they
began to be manufactured in Birmingham, England. They were not
produced on a large scale until 1824.. .'3
Quill pens were made from the feathers of various birds, including geese, turkeys,
swans, crows, and ducks.1 4 Of these, goose quills were by far the most popular, and
large flocks of geese came to be maintained for the production of writing quills. Quill
pens were made from the five largest feathers of each wing, the second and third feathers
(both called “seconds”) generally being considered the best1 3 Quills were graded
according to quality and sold in bundles. It has been claimed that quills from the left wing
1 3 Joe Nickell, Detecting Forgery: Forensic Investigation o f Documents
([Lexington]: The University Press of Kentucky, 1996), 108. For a good summary of
the early history of the steel pen, see Nickell, Pen, Ink, & Evidence: A Study o f Writing
and Writing Materials fo r the Penman, Collector, and Document Detective (Lexington:
The University Press of Kentucky, 1990), 9-12. See also Joyce Irene Whalley, Writing
Implements and Accessories: From the Roman Stylus to the Typewriter (Detroit: Gale
Research Company, 1975), Chpt. 3, “The Steel Pen,” 41-59.
1 4 For an excellent brief history of the quill pen, see Michael Finlay’s splendidly
illustrated Western Writing Implements in the Age o f the Quill Pen (Wetheral, Carlisle,
Cumbria: Plains Books, 1990), 3 and ff. According to Finlay, crow quills were often
used for fine writing. He notes that the feathers of ravens, pelicans, and peacocks were
also occasionally used for writing. On the history of the quill pen see also Whalley,
Writing Implements and Accessories, esp. Chpts. 1 and 2; and William Bishop, “Pens,
Pencils, Brushes and Knives,” in The Calligrapher's Handbook, ed. C. M. Lamb
(London: Faber & Faber, 1956), 33. Whalley’s book contains many useful illustrations.
1 3 Finlay, Western Writing Implements, 4.
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were preferred by right-handed writers, and were thus more expensive than those from
the right.1 6
The dressing and curing of quills for use as pens was an elaborate procedure that
seems unlikely to have been done at home; however, we currently know little about
where, horn whom, and in what state quills in eighteenth-century Vienna were acquired
by those (such as Mozart and his copyists) who used them.1 7 In England, prepared quills
were available from booksellers and stationers, and probably also from itinerant street
vendors.1 8 As we have seen in the previous chapter, Charles Bumey noted the
omnipresence in Vienna of itinerant vendors of all sorts. Thus it seems plausible to
suppose that quills may have been sold in that way as well.
The cutting of quills in preparation for writing, on the other hand, was a skill that
was probably possessed by most literate persons at that time.1 9 As we have seen in the
previous chapter, Joachim Daniel Preisler reported that he found Constanze cutting quills
when he visited Mozart in 1788. Quills wore quickly and needed to be sharpened
frequently. Indeed, it is possible or even likely that Constanze, at the time of Preisler’s
visit, was sharpening quills that had previously been cut Mozart makes an ironic
1 6 Nickell, Pen, Ink, & Evidence, 5.
1 7 For detailed instructions on the dressing and cutting of quills, see Donald
Jackson, “Preparation of Quills and Reeds,” in The Calligrapher’ s Handbook, ed.
Heather Child (London; A & C Black, 1985), 15-36. See also Bishop, “Pens,” 34-42,
and Finlay, Western Writing Implements, 9-11.
1 8 Finlay, Western Writing Implements, 5. Finlay provides an illustration, dating
from around 1700, of a street vendor of ink and quills in London; see Western Writing
Implements, 131.
1 9 Note, however, that Nickell (Pen, Ink, & Evidence, 7) mentions the existence of
professional quill cutters. He also provides photographs of a simplified method for
cutting quills (op. cit., 6). In the 19th century, mechanical quill cutters came into
widespread use, and the art of hand cutting rapidly disappeared.
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reference to his own pen-cutting skills in one of his earliest letters to his father after
arriving in Vienna in March 1781:
Mon Tr6s Cher P6re!
Ich habe ihr schreiben vom 20:“° dieses richtigst erhalten, und daraus
mit vergniigen dero beyderseitige glilckliche Ankunft und gutes
Wohlseyn vemommen. — sie mQssen es meiner schlechten dinte und
feder verdanken, wenn sie diesen brief mehr Buchstabieren als lesen
konnen. — Basta; geschrieben muB es doch seyn — und mein Herr
federschneider |: H: v: Lirzer, — :| hat tnich dermalen angesetzt — Ich
kann ihnen diesen |: weil sie ihn vermuthlich selbst besser kennen
werden :| nicht anders beschreiben, als dafi er — glaub ich ein
Salzburger ist — und dafi ich ihn mein lebetag niemal als beym Robinig
etwelchemal bej der sogenannten 11 uhr Musick gesehen habe. — er hat
mir aber gleich visite gemacht, und scheint mir ein sehr artiger, und
|: weil er mir meine fedem geschnitten :| hdflicher mensch zu seyn —
ich halte ihn flir einen Secretaire.
Mon Tres Cher Pere!
I have most properly received your communication of the 20th of this
month, and was pleased to learn from it that both of you arrived safely
and are in good health. — You must blame it on my bad ink and quill, if
you have to spell out this letter rather than read it. — Basta; I must write
in any case — and my Herr Quillcutter (Herr von Lirzer —) has now set
me to doing this — I can only describe the latter to you (because you
yourself will probably know him better) by saying that — I believe he is
a Salzburger — and that I have never seen him in my life, except for
a few times at the so-called 11-o’clock concert at Robinig’s. —
However, he has just paid me a visit, and seems to me a very civil and
(because he cut my quills for me) polite man. — I take him for
a secretary.2 0
One may infer from this letter that Mozart normally cut his own quills.
The nibs of quill pens, steel pens, fountain pens, and even modem cartridge pens
are similar in design, with a gradually narrowing tip that is slit in the middle to provide
a conduit for the ink. Because of this slit, the nib may sometimes produce a double line
2 0 MBA, m /97, letter of 24 Mar 1781. Mozart’s “Herr von Lirzer” was Ferdinand
Lierzer (Liirzer) von Zehenthal, who later became director of the Hofbauamt; see MBA,
VII/56, commentary to the letter of 24 Mar 1781.
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when the ink is about to fail. In quill pens, the length of the slit varied, depending upon
the quality of line desired. The nib itself might vary in width and could also be angled in
various ways.2 1 In this chapter, we will be particularly concerned with the quality of the
line created by a quill pen. Among other things, we would like to be able to determine
what the quality of line may tell us about the position in which the pen was held and the
pressure that was applied to it, as both of these may be characteristic of a particular writer.
Nickell notes that “the quill pen typically produces a line that is of uniform density
across its width.”2 2 Writing done with quill pens does not normally show the “tracks”
typical of metal nib pens (which show a darkening or thickening at either side of the line),
and documents written with a quill lack the indentations and physical abrasions sometimes
made by a steel pen.2 3 The quality of the line written by a quill depends on the angle at
which the quill is held in relation to the surface of the paper, the angle of the quill in
relation to the direction of writing, the uniformity of pressure on the two points, and the
angle of the cut of the nib. All but the last of these qualities may be characteristic of the
handwriting of a particular person.2 4 Nickell makes the following observations about the
effect of pen position on the quality of line in writing done with nib pens:
With the pointed nib pen, hairlines are produced on upstrokes, but
because the points of the nib separate with pressure accented lines occur
on the downstrokes A pen held nearly vertical can produce little
shading; one held low relative to the plane of the paper yields it
abundantly. As well, strokes that are more heavily shaded when they
run horizontally indicate a pen held so as to point to the right, whereas
2 1 On the angling of the nib, see the illustration from George Shelley’s The Second
Part o f Natural Writing (1714), reproduced in Finlay, Western Writing Implements, 98.
2 2 Nickell, Detecting Forgery, 146.
2 3 Albert S. Osborn, Questioned Documents, 2nd ed. (Albany: Boyd Printing
Company, 1929), 159-60.
2 4 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 121.
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downwardly accented strokes show a pen held so that it points to the top
of the page.2 5
Because of its flexibility, however, the quill pen is capable of a wide variety of shading
that is difficult or impossible to achieve with metal pens, and as a consequence it is
somewhat more difficult to determine from the width of the line the angle at which a quill
was held.
Mozart’s mature musical handwriting, as illustrated in the autograph of the String
Quartet in G, K. 387, may serve as a convenient illustration of some of the characteristics
of quill-pen writing.2 6 Mozart’s upward strokes are indeed, as we would expect from
Nickell’s comments, quite thin. In particular, Mozart seems often (but not invariably) to
have made upward-pointing stems on his quarter notes and smaller note values by moving
the pen directly upward from the notehead without removing the nib from the paper.
Consequently, these strokes and similar ones (such as upward-pointing flags on
downward-pointing stems) are, for the most part, extremely thin. Downward-pointing
stems on quarter notes and smaller values, on the other hand, are sometimes slightly
thickened at the top, near the notehead. Other descending vertical strokes in Mozart’s
musical hand, such as bar lines, are noticeably thicker than upward-pointing stems.
Mozart’s horizontal and oblique beams and his slurs are, in contrast to his vertical
strokes, usually relatively thick.
Almost all musical manuscripts produced in Vienna in the eighteenth century were
written with what is known as “iron-gall” ink (also “oak-gall” ink, “iron nut-gall ink”;
2 5 Nickell, Detecting Forgery, 38. Nickell’s illustrations are particularly
illuminating (see op. cit.. Figures 2.5 and 2.7). Nickell’s Figure 2.5 is a detailed analysis
of the celebrated signature of John Hancock.
2 6 The autograph of K. 387 is reproduced in a very fine color facsimile in Wolfgang
Amadeus Mozart, The Six ‘ Haydn’ String Quartets: Facsimile o f the Autograph
Manuscripts in the British Library Add. MS 37763, British Library Music Facsimiles,
vol. 4 ([London]: The British Library, 1985).
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German “Eisengallustinte”). Iron-gall ink is made from tannin, iron sulfate, an
agglutinant (generally gum arabic), and water or some other liquid (white wine or vinegar
are said to give particularly good results).2 7 The resulting ink penetrates the paper,
making the ink difficult to erase, and the pigment that is deposited on the paper is not
soluble in water, thus creating a more permanent mark than was possible with earlier
carbon-based inks. Carbon-based inks remain on the surface of paper or parchment and
can easily be removed, either intentionally or accidentally, by washing, rubbing, or
scraping.2 8 Indeed, the reuse of parchment (as “palimpsests”) was possible largely
because carbon inks could so readily be removed.
Iron-gall inks were known at least as early as the fifth century and were in common
use until well into the twentieth.2 9 In fact, as late as 1929, Albert Osborn could still write:
2 7 An outstanding reference on iron-gall inks is “The Iron Gall Ink Corrosion
Website,” home page (as of 26 Oct 2000) http://www.knaw.nl/ecpa/ink/index.html. The
site includes a detailed and lucid discussion of the history and chemistry of iron-gall ink,
as well as several historical recipes for this type of ink, a comprehensive bibliography,
and a thorough discussion of ink corrosion (or ink bum; see below). The dreadful effects
of ink corrosion are copiously illustrated in the site’s “Ink Corrosion Show of Honors.”
My description of iron-gall ink is based largely on the information provided by this site,
with supplementary information from other sources, esp. “Ink,” in Encyclopedia
Britannica (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1910), v. 14,571.
2 8 Nickell, Pen, Ink, & Evidence, 35.
2 9 “The Iron Gall Ink Corrosion Website” mentions an early recipe for iron-gall ink
in the 5th-century Encyclopedia o f Seven Free Arts by Martianus Capella (“Gallarum
gummeosque commixtio”).
To my knowledge, there is no fully satisfactory history of iron-gall ink. For the
present account, the most useful sources have been M. Thdrese Fisher, “Ink,” in The
Calligrapher’ s Handbook, ed. C. M. Lamb, 65-74; Nickell, Pen, Ink, & Evidence;
Finlay, Western Writing Implements, 26-28; and Whalley, Writing Implements and
Accessories, 77-84. See also David N. Carvalho, Forty Centuries o f Ink, or
A Chronological Narrative Concerning Ink and Its Backgrounds (New York: Burt
Franklin, 1904), an eccentric book that includes a wealth of interesting and potentially
useful information, almost none of which is properly documented.
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Of these three classes [of black ink], the iron-nutgall ink is the most
used and in fact has nearly supplanted ail other inks for writings of
importance. Its use for general business purposes is almost universal
and it is used almost exclusively in important books of record.3 0
The use of iron-gall ink was even sometimes required by law for important legal
documents, because it was long-lasting and difficult to eradicate. A study published in
Germany in 1890 of the history and chemistry of iron-gall ink points out, for example,
that “[i]ron-gall inks are, in fact, the only inks whose permanence is guaranteed by the
experience of centuries.. .”3 1
To be sure, the formulas of commercial iron-gall inks came to be altered in the
nineteenth century, partly because earlier types corroded metal pens.3 2 Furthermore,
earlier iron-gall inks were suspensions rather than true solutions, and the suspended
particles tended to settle to the bottom of the fluid, which therefore required frequent
shaking. New formulas helped prevent this problem and were less subject to mold than
earlier formulas had been.
Over the long term, iron-gall inks tend to eat through paper, often causing serious
problems of conservation. The causes of “iron-gall ink burn” (also referred to as “ink
corrosion”) are not fully understood, although it is known that the effect is more severe in
rag papers than in papers made from wood.3 3 In extreme cases, ink burn of this sort can
3 0 Osborn, Questioned Documents, 450. The other two classes of black ink to
which Osborn refers are logwood ink and nigrosine ink.
3 1 Osw. Schluttig and G. S. Neumann, Die Eisengallustinten. Grundlagen zu ihrer
Beurtheilung (Dresden: v. Zahn & Jaensch, 1890), 9. “Die Eisengallustinten sind zwar
die einzigen Tinten, deren Dauerhaftigkeit durch eine jahrhundertelange Erfahrung
garantirt wird. . . ”
3 2 According to Schluttig and Neumann (Die Eisengallustinten, 13), the first
“modem” iron-gall inks date from 1855.
3 3 See, for example, R. Van Gulik and N. E. Kersten-Pampiglione, “A Closer
Look at Iron Gall Ink Bum,” Restaurator 15 (1994): 173-87, and the references cited
there. On the possible causes of iron gall ink bum, see esp. 174-75. For
a comprehensive bibliography, see the website mentioned in n. 27.
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182
severely damage or destroy a manuscript For example, Jeanne Swack has described the
rapid deterioration of the autograph fair copy of Bach's Flute Sonata in A major, BWV
1032. The first movement and the beginning of the second movement of this sonata are
written on the bottom three staves of the autograph of Bach’s Concerto for Two
Harpsichords and Strings in C minor, BWV 1062. Swack writes that by the time of the
publication of the facsimile edition of the autograph in 1979
Bach's acidic ink was already taking its toll. It was the ink, not Bach,
that caused the “excisions” on pp. 19-20, because the notches represent
notes in the bottom staff of the double harpsichord concerto, clearly
visible on the film,3 4 which have literally fallen out of the manuscript.
When I had the opportunity to examine the manuscript in March, 1990,
the paper had further deteriorated to the point that the paper between the
notches was entirely eaten away.3 5
In other words, the notes had literally fallen out of the score. Fortunately, most
eighteenth-century Viennese musical manuscripts are much less severely effected by ink
bum, perhaps because of the way in which the paper was sized and the more stable
recipes of the inks that were in common use there.
The tannin in iron-gall ink is derived from growths that form on oak trees in which
female gall wasps have deposited their ova. These growths are known as “galls” (also
gallnuts, nutgalls, oak galls, and oak apples; German “Gallapfel”).3 6 The preferred galls
for making ink came from Syria (“Aleppo galls” were well known; Aleppo is equivalent
to Halab in modem Syria), Persia, Cyprus, Asia Minor, China, and Italy, among other
3 4 Swack is referring to a microfilm of the manuscript made at the time of its return
to the Deutsche Staatsbibliothek from Poland in 1977.
3 5 Jeanne Swack, “J. S. Bach’s A Major Flute Sonata BWV 1032 Revisited,” in
Bach Studies 2, ed. Daniel. R. Melamed (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1995), 154-74, here 155.
3 6 Fisher, “Ink,” 72-73.
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183
places.3 7 Gallotannic acid was extracted from these galls by soaking them (or a powder
made from them) in water.
The second principal ingredient of iron-gall ink was “copperas” or “green vitriol”
(hydrated iron sulfate). When this compound is mixed, in the presence of air, with the
acid derived from galls, a blue-black fluid is created, consisting of a suspension of fine
particles of a ferrous tannate complex.3 8 An agglutinant—generally gum arabic—was
added to this mixture to keep the fine particles in suspension, so that they did not settle to
the bottom. Gum arabic also imparts a gloss to the ink, alters its viscosity, and helps
prevent discoloration.
Iron-gall ink is not completely black at first, but becomes so only a few days after it
is used, upon continued oxidation.3 9 For this reason, lampblack, logwood, indigo, and
other additives were sometimes added to iron-gall ink for additional darkening.40 Many
iron-gall inks eventually show a progressive yellow or brown discoloration, sometimes
after just few days, but often only after a period of several years. In effect, the
ingredients in the ink continue to oxidize, and this at least in part accounts for the reddish
and yellowish browns that are typically seen today in most musical manuscripts dating
from the eighteenth century 4 1
3 7 Nickell, Pen, Ink, & Evidence, 36. See also Finlay, Western Writing
Implements, 26, and “Ink,” Encyclopeedia Britannica (1910), 571.
3 8 See the description on “The Iron Gall Ink Corrosion Website.” See also “Ink,”
Encyclopeedia Britannica (1910), 571.
3 9 Osborn, Questioned Documents, 451. According to Schluttig and Neumann (Die
Eisengallustinten, 8), the ideal iron-gall ink should turn deep black within a week of
drying.
4 0 See, among other references, Nickell, Pen, Ink, & Evidence, 37.
4 1 On the discoloration of iron-gall ink, see Nickell, Detecting Forgery, 111, and
Osborn, Questioned Documents, 468-69.
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184
An extremely detailed eighteenth-century discussion of iron-gall inks is found in
William Lewis’s Commercium Philosophico-Technicum; or, the Philosophical Commerce
o f Arts, published in 1763 (see Appendix A).4 2 Lewis was particularly concerned with
determining the ideal proportions for the various ingredients in iron-gall ink, and he
describes a series of experiments that he performed over the course of several years to test
a variety of ingredients in different proportions, noting the effects of this variation on the
color and longevity of the ink.
Most authorities, including Lewis, agree that properly made iron-gall ink becomes
deep black soon after use, and that discoloration arises only later on. Yet this basic
characteristic of iron-gall ink seems to have been overlooked by previous scholars who
have written about ink colors in eighteenth-century musical manuscripts. These scholars
have apparently assumed that any variations in ink color visible today must have been
present when the ink was first used.4 3 For example, Karl-Heinz Kohler, in his well-
known article on the sequence of composition of Mozart’s Le nozze di Figaro, seems to
42 William Lewis, Commercium philosophico-technicum, or, The Philosophical
Commerce o f Arts: Designed as an Attempt to Improve Arts, Trades, and Manufactures
(London: H. Baldwin, 1763), esp. 344-46, and 377-93. The most reliable technical
discussion of iron-gall ink in the recent musicological literature is that of Ulrich Konrad,
in his Mozarts Schaffensweise. Studien zu den Werkautographen, Skizzen und
Entwiirfen, Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Gottingen. Philologisch-
historische Klasse, dritte Folge, vol. 201 (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1992),
352-55. Konrad’s treatment is based largely on an 18th-century German translation of
Lewis.
43 The most important treatments of the question of ink color in musical manuscripts
from the period under consideration here are: Karl-Heinz KOhler, “Mozart’s
Kompositionsweise - Beobachtungen am Figaro-Autograph,” in Mozart-Jahrbuch 1967
(Salzburg, 1968), 31-45; John Arthur, “Some Chronological Problems in Mozart: the
Contribution of Ink-Studies,” in Wolfgang Amade Mozart: Essays on his Life and his
Music, ed. Stanley Sadie (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), 35-52; and Barry Cooper,
“The Ink in Beethoven’s ‘Kafka’ Sketch Miscellany,” Music & Letters 68 (1987): 315-
32. Of these, only Kohler considers the chemical constituents of the ink and their effect
on its color.
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believe that most of the present variation in the colors of the inks in Mozart’s autograph
was already present at the time the music was written down. He writes:
Let us emphasize here that ink color is dependent upon the quantity of
the basic ingredients, the degree of progression of the chemical
processes, the degree of dilution with water, the consistency (the
pigment sinks to the bottom, and a stronger coloration can be achieved
by shaking it again), and finally also the weaker or stronger flow from
the pen .. 4 4
All but one of these variables came into effect only at the time the ink was first used.
Kohler makes no clear reference to the discoloration of iron-gall ink over time, or its
blackening soon after use, and he seems to have been unaware of these processes.4 5
Kdhler’s discussion is based largely on a description of iron-gall ink in Carl
Albrecht Gren’s Systematische Handbuch der gesammten Chemie, published in Halle in
1795. Gren wrote:
Our common and black ink consists. . . of vitriol and gallnuts, whereby
one attempts to give the fluid more consistency by the addition of gum in
order to prevent the separation of the precipitate and to keep it floating
[i.e., in suspension]. Too much vitriol makes the ink light yellow,
because then a portion of the vitriol remains unreacted, which then, in
the writing, reacts in air and allows the yellow [Eisenocher] to appear.4 6
4 4 Kdhler, “Mozarts Kompositionsweise,” 34. “Halten wir an dieser Stelle noch
fest, dafi die Tintenfarbe anhingig ist von der Quantity der Grundsubstanzen, vom Grade
des Fortschreitens der chemischen Prozesse, vom Grade der VerdUnnung durch Wasser,
von der Konsistenz (der Farbstoff sinkt nieder und durch UmschUtteln ist wieder eine
starkere Einfarbung zu erreichen) und schliefilich auch vom schwacheren oder starkeren
Ausfliefien aus der Feder. . . ” Kohler’s “Fortschreitens der chemischen Prozesse” may
perhaps refer to the progress of chemical reactions over a long period of time, although he
does not explicitly make this point.
4 5 Kdhler claims, rather implausibly as we shall see, that Mozart ruled his own
music paper. He makes this claim on the basis of a supposed match between the colors of
the inks in the staff ruling of the Figaro autograph and those of the inks that Mozart used
for writing out the music; see Kdhler, “Mozarts Kompositionsweise,” 36.
4 6 Cited in Kdhler, “Mozarts Kompositionsweise,” 33. “Unsere gemeine und
schwarze Tinte entsteht. . . aus Vitriol und Gallapfeln, wobey man noch durch einen
Zusatz von Gummi der Fliissigkeit mehr Consistenz zu geben sucht, um die Absonderung
des Niederschlages zu verhiiten und ihn schwimmend zu erhalten. Zu viel Vitriol macht,
dafi die Tinte leicht gelb wird, weil dann ein Theil Vitriol unzersetzt bleibt, der in der Luft
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186
In the context of Gren's discussion, the use of “too much vitriol” is evidently viewed as
a defect. Yet Kdhler seems to regard the proportion of vitriol as one of the principal
variables leading to the variation in color that one observes now.4 7
However, virtually all ink in surviving eighteenth-century Viennese musical
manuscripts is not black now. Thus if we are to use Gren’s description as an explanation
for the present variation in the color of the ink, we will have to assume that every ink-
maker in Vienna in the eighteenth century got the recipe slightly wrong. This is
implausible. It seems more likely that much or all of the discoloration that can now be
observed has arisen gradually over time, as Nickell and others have suggested, and that
the degree of discoloration may vary according to the relative proportions of the original
ingredients. By this reasoning, different batches of ink that may have appeared more or
less uniformly black shortly after they were used will have degraded differentially (and
probably consistently) over time to produce the variety of colors we see today. It was
well-known in Mozart’s day that ink made with too little gall in relation to the rest of the
ingredients would not be as long-lasting, and would eventually turn brown or yellow.4 8
Gren’s description can, in fact, be interpreted as a recognition of precisely this same
point.
Thus it may be that most of the ink used for writing down text and music in the
eighteenth century would normally have turned black within a few days of its use.
However, there is some evidence to suggest that ink did indeed vary in darkness
zersetzt wird und den gelben Eisenocher zum Vorschein kommen lafit.” Carl Albrecht
Gren, Systematische Handbuch der gesammten Chemie (Halle, 1795), paragraph 3021.
4 7 KOhler also notes that iron sulfate becomes yellow when heated and reddish
brown upon contact with air. He does not explain, however, what relevance these
reactions may have to the color of ink.
4 8 See esp. the comprehensive experiments described in Lewis, Commercium
philosophico-technicum. See also Schluttig and Neumann, Die Eisengallustinten, 41.
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187
depending on its intended use.4 9 Rousseau implies precisely this in the article on copyists
in his Dictiormaire de musique. He writes that staff lines should be “rather pale” in
comparison with the ink used for notes:
L’encre doit etre tr&s-noire, sans etre Iuisante ni gommde; la Reglure
fine, dgale & bien marqude, mais non pas noire comme la Note: il faut
au contraire que les Iignes soient un peu pales, afin que les Chroces,
Doubles-Chroces, les Soupirs, Demi-soupirs & autres petits signes ne
se confondent pas ayec [s/c] elles, & que la Note forte mieux. Loin que
la paleur des Lignes empeche de lire la Musique k une certaine distance,
elle aide au contraire, par la nettete; & quand meme la Ligne echapperoit
un moment h la vue, la position des Notes findique assez le plus
souvent.
The ink [used by the copyist] ought to be very black, without either
gloss or gum; the ruling neat, equal, and well fixed, but not so black as
the notes; on the contrary, the lines should be rather pale, so that the
crotchets, double crotchets, pauses, and other smaller signs may not be
confounded with them, and that the note [s/c] may be expressed the
fuller. The paleness of the lines, far from preventing the music to be
read at a fixed distance, on the contrary, assists it by its neatness, and
tho’ the line should now and then escape the sight for a moment, the
position of the notes very often of itself denotes it.5 0
Such a contrast between the ink used for staff ruling and that used for writing music is, in
fact, evident in most eighteenth-century musical manuscripts. Rousseau’s description
implies that it must have been possible, at least to some extent, to control the color of the
ink at the time of its original use. Exactly how this variation in color was achieved, and
how that variation may be related to the variation in color observable today must remain
4 9 Schluttig and Neumann distinguish between “Schreib-” and “Kopirtinten” (Die
Eisengallustinten, 8), suggesting that more effort may have been made to provide
a permanent black ink for documents that were intended to be permanent.
5 0 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Dictionnaire de musique (Paris, 1768; reprint,
Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1969), 126; translation from idem., A Complete Dictionary o f
Music: Consisting o f a Copious Explanation o f All Words Necessary to a True
Knowledge and Understanding o f Music, trans. William Waring (London: J. Murray,
1779; reprint of 2nd ed., New York: AMS Press, 1975), 94.
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188
the subject of further study.31 However, Rousseau’s description of “pale” ink is entirely
consistent with the dilution of ink through the addition of liquid, without any alteration in
the proportion of the other ingredients.
Most opera scores produced by Sukowaty’s shop and similar Viennese
establishments today show a variety of ink colors. Within larger manuscripts, such as
operas, particular colors are often consistently associated with the hands of particular
copyists, suggesting that each copyist used a different supply of ink with a slightly
different proportion of ingredients. Several explanations might account for this variation,
but it is at least plausible to read the variation as evidence that copyists worked
independently rather than in a central location. In this view, each copyist would have
supplied his or her own ink, rather than receiving ink from a central store controlled by
the supervising copyist. If the supervising copyist had provided the ink, one might
imagine that the colors found in the manuscripts would be more uniform than they
actually are.
Many recipes survive for iron-gall ink, ranging from Peter Canneparius’s simple
mnemonic rhyme of 1660—“Una due tre e trenta / A far la bona tenta” (one part gum, two
parts vitriol and three parts gall in 30 parts water will make a good ink)—to much more
elaborate recipes that include various additives.5 2 The simplicity of some of the recipes
and the general availability of the ingredients in the eighteenth century suggest that ink
5 1 Cooper, in his study of the ink in Beethoven’s sketches, fails to note the gradual
discoloration of iron-gall ink over time (see Cooper, “Ink”). He does, however, caution
against other pitfalls in judging ink colon variable illumination, differing amounts of ink
in the quill, and “fading,” which he ascribes to blotting, variation in the amount of ink,
and exposure to light (in fact, the latter seems to have no appreciable effect on the
discoloration of iron-gall ink).
5 2 Fisher, “Ink,” 71. For other ink recipes, see Fisher, 67-71; Finlay, Western
Writing Implements, 27-28; Whalley, Writing Implements and Accessories, 78-79; and
“The Iron Gall Ink Corrosion Website.” See also Carvalho, Forty Centuries o f Ink.
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189
could well have been mixed at home.3 3 On the other hand, ink-making was a distinct
trade with a long history. It is not presently known whether musicians and music
copyists in eighteenth-century Austria made their own ink or purchased it ready-made,
perhaps from itinerant vendors.54 They may, of course, have done both.
In England, powdered inks were popular. Charles Holman obtained a patent for an
ink powder as early as 1688. This patent reads, in part:
A new art of invencion of making a certaine powder, which being put
into faire water, beer, ale, or wine, doth immediately tume the same into
very good black writing ink . . . .5 5
At present, nothing is known about the availability of such powdered inks in Vienna, but
their popularity elsewhere suggests that the possibility cannot be ruled out.
Because paper is absorbent and iron-gall inks contain water, these inks have
a tendency to run. For this reason, writing paper was normally “sized” as part of the
manufacturing process, by being dipped into a hot solution of animal gelatine. Printing
paper, in contrast, was usually not sized, because printing inks were not water-based.
Thus readers who wished to make marginal annotations in printed books needed to
prepare the paper for writing by rubbing it with “pounce,” a general term for a variety of
powdered blotting agents. For use in printed books, pounce typically consisted of rosin
or gum sandarach wrapped in a piece of cloth.3 6 Sandarach could also be used as
5 3 According to “The Iron Gall Ink Corrosion Website”: “[o]ld household manuals
indicate that ink-making was often one of the domestic duties of women.” So perhaps
Constanze prepared Mozart’s ink, as well as cutting his quills.
3 4 Nickell notes that itinerant ink sellers were common in England (Pen, Ink, &
Evidence, 38). Eighteenth- and 19th-century English illustrations of itinerant ink vendors
are reproduced in Finlay, Western Writing Implements, 131, Figure 148; and Whalley,
Writing Implements and Accessories, 80.
5 5 Quoted in Finlay, Western Writing Implements, 27. Finlay reproduces one of
Holman’s trade labels for this ink in his Figure 146, p. 130. Finlay (op. cit., 28) also
discusses cake-inks that were available in the 18th century.
5 6 Finlay, Western Writing Implements, 33.
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190
a general blotting agent (the widespread use of blotting paper arose only later), sprinkled
onto wet writing with a “sander” or “pounce pot.”3 7 The perforated tops of such sanders
were often concave, to allow excess pounce to be shaken off the paper and back into the
pot for reuse. Chalk could also be used for blotting in this way, as could, apparently,
common sand.5 8 Traces of such blotting agents can sometimes still be seen on musical
manuscripts, in the form of small crystalline sparkles embedded in the ink.5 9
Writing done with iron-gall ink could be corrected or changed in several ways. If
the ink was still wet, it could simply be wiped away with a finger (typically the little
finger).6 0 Mozart did this quite often, and finger erasures are visible in many of his
autographs, including those of the “Haydn” Quartets. For example, in the autograph of
K. 387, first movement, folio 5v, first violin, second system, a quarter note d2 on the
first beat of the penultimate bar of the system has been wiped away with a finger, and
replaced with an eighth rest. On folio 9v (third movement), in the fourth measure of the
third system in the second violin, the final three quarter notes have likewise been erased
with a finger and replaced with new notes.6 1
If the ink was dry, it could be scraped off using a knife, ideally one that had been
especially designed for that purpose (rather than, say, the same knife that one used to cut
5 7 For illustrations of a wide variety of sanders and pounce pots, see Finlay,
Western Writing Implements, 134-35, Figures 157-68.
5 8 On the use of sand as a blotting agent, see Nickell, Pen, Ink, & Evidence, 59-60.
5 9 For a photograph of sand embedded in ink writing, see Nickell, Pen, Ink, &
Evidence, 59, Figure 7.3.
6 0 Nickell, Detecting Forgery, 121. Nickell points out that Thomas Jefferson
typically corrected in this way.
6 1 For a more detailed discussion of Mozart’s corrections and how they were made,
see Konrad, M ozarts Schaffensweise, 356-66.
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191
quills).6 2 Such erasures caused abrasions to the surface of the paper, and thus, as Nickell
explains, “[o]ften the roughened area that resulted would be polished by rubbing with
a burnisher of some sort to minimize the spreading of ink in rewriting.”6 3 Because these
knives were extremely sharp, corrections made with them are sometimes called “razor
erasures.” Such erasures are usually evident to the eye, and can be made even more
prominent with backlighting.
An example of such an erasure can be found in the first bar of K. 387, in the second
violin, where (in the British Library facsimile) it appears that the first two notes have been
scraped away and overwritten. The staff lines under the new notes (particularly the
second) show signs of having been repaired by hand. In fact, it must have been nearly
impossible to scrape away notes on the staff without damaging the staff lines, and one
sees such repairs often in razor erasures.
No standard method has been adopted by music historians for the study of ink
color, or the color of other writing substances, such as pencils and crayons. One
effective method (suggested to me by John Arthur)64 is the use of standard color
comparators, such as the Pantone* system. Such systems have the advantage of allowing
accurate comparison of widely scattered sources under various kinds of lighting. It
would seem, though, that more research needs to be done in this area, taking ink
chemistry into account and perhaps using scientific apparatus for the accurate
measurement of color. During the course of this dissertation, I shall occasionally refer to
colors using the Pantone system. All references will be based on the Pantone Color
6 2 For illustrations of erasing knives, see Finlay, Western Writing Implements,
Figures 38, 38a, 41,43,44, 78, 107, 110, and 117; and Nickell, Pen, Ink, & Evidence,
esp. Figure 7.14.
6 3 Nickell, Detecting Forgery, 121.
6 4 Personal communication.
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192
Selector 1000 (Uncoated). For example, in this system, the designation “Pantone 471U”
refers to a medium brown consisting of 37.5% Pantone Warm Red, 6.3% Pantone Reflex
Blue, and 56.2% Pantone Yellow.
The identification of musical handwriting
The principal focus of this dissertation is the identification of the copyists in
eighteenth-century Viennese manuscripts of Mozart’s music. As we have seen, most
Viennese copyists are still anonymous, in the sense that particular hands have not been
linked with particular names. Thus hands must be “identified” on the basis of the
characteristics of the musical handwriting itself.
Copyists can be identified by name only when surviving documents allow us to
link, with relative certainty, a name to a particular hand. Such links can sometimes be
made on the basis of signed receipts, or because a copyist is mentioned in a letter.
Sometimes a manuscript may be signed or bear some other mark (such as an address) that
may help identify the copyist
There is little evidence of this sort for M ozart Copyists are rarely mentioned in the
letters from his Viennese years, and none is mentioned by name. Extremely few
surviving Viennese manuscript copies of Mozart’s works are dated and only a handful are
signed by a copyist (mostly by Sukowaty or Lausch). In fact these “signatures” may not
be signatures at all in the usual sense, but may instead be analogous to a printer’s or
publisher’s imprint. In other words, an inscription such as “Lausch,” or “In Wien zu
haben bey Wenzel Sukowaty” may not have been written by Lausch or Sukowaty at all,
but rather by one of their assistants.
Some allegedly “signed” copies are dubious in various ways. For example, the
library of the Conservatorio di Musica Luigi Cherubini in Florence preserves a four-
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193
volume score copy of Mozart’s Le nozze di Figaro.6 5 In an article published in Music &
Letters in 1959, Michael and Christopher Raeburn claimed that this score, along with
most of the other score copies of Mozart’s operas now held by the conservatory library,
came “from the house of the professional copyist Lausch.”6 6 On the basis of this
identification, the Raeburns went on to claim that the score of Figaro represented the text
of the 1789 revival of the opera, including authentic revisions and additions by Mozart.6 7
In Chapter 9 1 shall consider in more detail the extent to which the score in Florence
reflects the form of Mozart’s 1789 revision. Here it suffices to say that the Raeburns’
evidence for the provenance of the score is not convincing, consisting merely of an
inscription, written in pencil, in the lower-right hand comer of the original title page:
“Lausch / copista / del tempo di Mozart”6 8 This inscription has been traced over,
apparently with a ballpoint pen.
Now, it is true that Lausch (or perhaps one of his assistants) often wrote “Lausch"
on the title pages of manuscripts purchased (although not always copied) at his shop.
These inscriptions are always written in relatively large letters, always in ink.6 9 The
inscription on the Florence score of Figaro is small and in pencil. The
phrasing—“Lausch, copyist from Mozart’s time”—sounds very much as if it may have
been added by someone long after both Mozart’s time and Lausch’s. In other words, the
inscription has virtually no evidentiary value. It could have been written by anyone,
6 5 I-Fc, Fondo Pitti, T 262.
6 6 Michael Raebum and Christopher Raeburn, “Mozart Manuscripts in Florence,”
Music & Letters 40 (1959): 334-40, here 334.
6 7 Raebum and Raebum, “Mozart Manuscripts,” 337 and ff.
6 8 The Raeburns do not mention this inscription.
69 For examples, see A. Peter Brown, “Notes on Some Eighteenth-Century
Viennese Copyists,” Journal o f the American Musicological Society 34 (1981): 325-38,
Figures 6 and 8.
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someone who may or may not have had any reason to know the provenance of the score.
It may well have been written by a twentieth-century scholar or librarian who was merely
guessing.7 0
The score is probably, in fact, Viennese, but it was almost certainly produced in the
first decade of the nineteenth century, almost certainly not by Lausch, who died in 1794,
and not by his shop, which probably ceased operation around 1800. It was very likely
produced by the copy shop of the court theater, but was probably based on secondary or
tertiary score copies used by the theater for revivals of Figaro in the late 1790s. In fact,
the Vorlage for the Florence score may still survive, and would thus have priority in
questions about the text of the opera in its Viennese performances. One clearly needs to
approach alleged “signatures” of copyists with skepticism.
In the previous chapter, we considered several types of documentary evidence that
may help in identifying copyists, including receipts, account books, advertisements, and
various kinds of archival records. However, the manuscripts themselves and the
handwritings in them are, by necessity, the principal evidence of their provenance,
authenticity, and date. In the remainder of this chapter I shall, therefore, give detailed
consideration to the methods for analyzing musical manuscripts. I shall begin with
a detailed treatment of the methods for examining and identifying musical handwriting.
In the closing section of the chapter I shall deal with the analysis of music paper.
7 0 Alan Tyson notes the presence of the inscription, but does not comment on its
reliability; see Tyson, “Some Problems in the Text of Le nozze di Figaro: Did Mozart
Have a Hand in Them?” in Mozart: Studies o f the Autograph Scores (Cambridge, Mass.
and London: Harvard University Press, 1987), 290-327, here 294-95. Tyson (in my
view correctly) dates the manuscript to the period 1803-1806, but does not note that the
Lausch shop was probably no longer in existence by that time.
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195
Studies of music copying and music copyists
Much of what has previously been written about music copyists has employed what
might charitably be called the “ostensive method” for identifying musical and textual
hands: samples of handwriting are shown in facsimile, accompanied merely by some
variation of the statement “this manuscript is in hand X." Sometimes the facsimiles are
omitted, and one simply has to take the statement on faith.
As an example, let us briefly consider an article by Joshua Rifkin on Pietrequin
Bonnet and the works attributed to him in the chansomier Biblioteca Riccardiana, Ms.
2794. Rifkin argues that some of the music and other entries (including attributions to
Bonnel) in the chansormier are written by the same hand found in receipts written and
signed by Bonnel in the registers of the Santissima Annunziata in Florence. Rifkin
writes: “Pietrequin’s handwriting in [the receipts] undergoes inevitable variation from
one hastily written receipt to another, but it clearly matches that of our scribe in Florence
2794, as the reader can observe by comparing Figure I with Figures 2 and 3.”7 1 In other
words, Rifkin asks the reader to make the comparison and the identification—or to take
his word for it. He does not tell us what characteristics to look for in the handwriting or
explain why he believes them to indicate a match.
Now, Rifkin’s identifications are convincing for the most part (although his Figure
2c is perhaps less persuasive than the others). Rifkin is a fine and careful scholar, and
my point is not to disparage him. I wish merely to point out that this “ostensive method”
(which is, of course, a lack of method) is inherently prone to error and
misidentification— particularly when used by scholars less careful and meticulous than
Rifkin.
7 1 Joshua Rifkin, “Pietrequin Bonnel and Ms. 2794 of the Biblioteca Riccardiana,”
Journal o f the American Musicological Society 29 (1976): 284-96, here 284-85.
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196
The study of eighteenth-century Viennese music copyists received its first impetus
from Haydn scholars, especially Jens Peter Larsen, in his seminal Die Haydn-
Oberlieferung, published in 1939, and later H. C. Robbins Landon.7 2 Relatively few of
Haydn’s autographs survive. Many were undoubtedly consumed by the fires that
destroyed Haydn’s homes in Eisenstadt in 1768 and again in 1776, and others may have
fallen victim to the fire that destroyed the opera house at Eszterhdza in 1779.7 3 Secondary
sources of Haydn’s music, particularly manuscript copies, have often been the only ones
to survive, and these have consequently become crucial for providing the texts of many of
Haydn’s works. Over the more than sixty years since Larsen’s study, it has therefore
been one of the principal tasks of Haydn scholarship to identify copyists who were
directly associated with the composer, with the aim of determining which secondary
manuscripts are reliable witnesses to the authenticity of particular works and which
secondary manuscripts provide authoritative or reliable texts. Larsen’s study itself
contains no illustrations of copyists’ hands, and he discusses only a few copyists whose
names were known to him, listing the known sources in their hands. He also mentions in
passing the existence of anonymous “authentic” copyists, but does not discuss these in
detail.
Landon made important advances in the study of Haydn’s copyists, first in his
study of Haydn’s symphonies, and later in the first volume of Haydn: Chronicle and
Works. In both he was able to provide facsimiles of copyists’ hands, and he also
7 2 See Jens Peter Larsen, Die Haydn-Uberlieferung (Copenhagen: Einar
Munksgaard, 1939), esp. Chpt. HI, and H. C. Robbins Landon, The Symphonies o f
Joseph Haydn (London: Universal Edition and Rockliff, 1955), esp. 28ff. See also
H. C. Robbins Landon, Haydn: The Early Years, 1732-1765, vol. 1 of Haydn:
Chronicle and Works (London: Thames and Hudson, 1980), esp. 250-51 and 575-84.
7 3 On the fires and on the survival of Haydn’s autographs in general, see Larsen,
Die Haydn-Uberlieferung, 53-56.
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“named” several of the most prominent anonymous copyists (for example, “Viennese
professional copyist No. 1,” and “FUmberg-Morzin Copyist No. 2”). Like Larsen,
Landon did not explain how he identified the hands of particular copyists, anonymous or
otherwise.
Most subsequent studies of Haydn’s copyists have been similarly “ostensive.”
Denes Bartha and LaszJo Somfai, in the ninth chapter of their classic Haydn als
Opemkapellmeister, drew on the rich documentary and musical archives of the Esterhdzy
court in order to attempt to identify music copyists whose hands appear in the Esterhdzy
opera collection. These included “authentic” copyists who worked for Haydn (such as
the ElBIers), copyists who worked for the Esterhdzy theater (many of them undoubtedly
members of the Esterhdzy Kapelle), and non-local copyists (such as Sukowaty in Vienna)
from whom scores had been purchased for possible production by the Esterhdzy
theater.7 4 Hands of the more important copyists in the collection are illustrated in Bartha
and Somfai’s book by small and rather out-of-focus photographs—which are,
nevertheless, better than nothing. In many cases, Bartha and Somfai were able, with
varying degrees of assurance, to suggest possible links between names and hands. Their
text hints at an explicit method for identifying and keeping track of copyists, but they do
not elaborate on this method.
In preceding chapters I have already had occasion to refer to the work of Stephen C.
Fisher, who matched signed receipts of Viennese copyists with parts for Haydn
symphonies that had been sent to the Oettingen-Wallerstein court.7 5 Fisher included
numerous well-chosen facsimiles of each hand, but did not describe how he distinguished
7 4 Denes Bartha and Laszlo Somfai, Haydn als Opemkapellmeister. Die Hadyn-
Dokumente der Esterhdzy-Opemsammlung (Budapest: Verlag der ungarischen Akademie
der Wissenschaften, I960), 404-434.
7 5 See Fisher, “Haydn’s Overtures,” esp. Appendix C.
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among them. Fisher and Bertil van Boer together published an article about a copyist they
dubbed “Silverstolpe A,” who was associated with Johann Traeg in Vienna.7 6 They
gave only a very brief verbal description of the copyist’s hand (referring only to its
distinctive treble clef)* but they did provide a facsimile, taken from the score of an aria by
Joseph Martin Kraus.7 7
Recently GQnter Thomas has shown that one of the most important of all
“authentic” Haydn copyists, “Anonymous 63” (so named by Bartha and Somfai), was
almost certainly the Viennese copyist Peter Rampl.7 8 Thomas provides no explicit
description of Rampl’s musical hand, but he provides a well-chosen facsimile. A similar
approach is taken in many recent volumes of Joseph Haydn Werke. Copyists are
mentioned and occasionally named, cross-references are given to other manuscripts said
to be by the same hand, and facsimiles are sometimes provided, although rather rarely.
The hands are generally not described and the grounds for judgments of identity between
handwritings in different manuscripts are not given.
Robert von Zahn is perhaps the only Haydn scholar to have attempted a more
rigorous analysis of a particular hand, in his article on Joseph Elfiler Sr., the father of
Haydn’s copyist and amanuensis Johann Elfiler.7 9 Zahn’s analysis of Elfiler’s hand is
7 6 Stephen C. Fisher and Bertil H. van Boer, “A Viennese Music Copyist and His
Role in the Distribution of Haydn’s Works,” Haydn-Studien 6, no. 2 (1988): 163-68.
On “Silverstolpe A,” see also below, Chpt. 7.
7 7 Fisher and van Boer, op. cit., 165.
7 8 Giinter Thomas, “Haydn’s Copyist Peter Rampl,” in Haydn, Mozart, &
Beethoven: Studies in the Music o f the Classical Period. Essays in Honour o f Alan
Tyson, ed. Sieghard Brandenburg (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), 85-90. For more
on Rampl, see below, Chpt. 8.
7 9 Robert von Zahn, “Der fttrstlich Esterhazysche Notenkopist Joseph Elfiler Sen.,”
Haydn-Studien 6, no. 2 (1988): 130-47.
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based mainly on the italic text-hand in titles and instrumental designations. The only
specifically musical symbol that Zahn takes into account is the repeat sign.
References to eighteenth-century Viennese music copyists are not uncommon
elsewhere in the scholarly literature. However, these references generally make no
attempt at methodological rigor, and at best may provide a few facsimiles.8 0 A. Peter
8 0 Facsimiles of 18th-century Viennese copyists are scattered among a wide variety
of publications. Among the more useful of these are two specialized catalogues of
manuscripts in the Staatsbibliothek PreuBischer Kulturbesitz: Hans-GUnter Klein,
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Autographe und Abschriften, ed. Rudolf Elvers,
Staatsbibliothek PreuBischer Kulturbesitz. Kataloge der Musikabteilung, erste Reihe,
Band 6 (Berlin: Merseburger, 1982), and Joachim Jaenecke, Joseph und Michael Haydn.
Autographe und Abschriften, Staatsbibliothek PreuBischer Kulturbesitz. Kataloge der
Musikabteilung, erste Reihe, Band 4 (Munich: G. Henle, 1990). Neither publication is
concerned with copyists perse, but both reproduce a large number of clear and well-
chosen photographs of copyists’ hands, including many important Viennese ones. The
series German Opera, 1770-1800, ed. Thomas Bauman (New York: Garland Publishing)
reproduces several late-18th-century Viennese manuscript scores in facsimile; these
include Ignaz Umlauf, Die schdne Schusterinn (vol. 13, 1986), a facsimile edition of an
early Sukowaty score (although not identified as such); Wenzel MUller, Das Sonnenfest
der Braminen (vol. 16, 1986); and Franz Xaver SUssmayr, Der Spiegel von Arkadien
(vol. 17, 1986). Vol. 14 of the same series is a facsimile of the autograph of Antonio
Salieri’s Der Rauchfangkehrer. A. Peter Brown provides several facsimiles of Viennese
copyists in his Carlo D'Ordonez, 1734-1786: A Thematic Catalogue, Detroit Studies in
Music Bibliography, vol. 39 (Detroit: Information Coordinators, 1978). Paul Bryan
provides numerous facsimiles and visual analyses of the handwritings of copyists found
in sources of the symphonies of Johann Baptist Vanhal in his Johann Wanhal, Viennese
Symphonist: His Life and His Musical Environment, Thematic Catalogues Series, ed.
Barry S. Brook, vol. 23 (Stuyvesant, NY: Pendragon Press, 1997), Appendix B, 363-
409. Bryan also attempts an analysis of Vanhal’s musical and textual hand; however, this
analysis is not entirely persuasive, as some of the alleged “autographs” are not
convincingly authenticated and there are many unexplained differences between the hands
in the various manuscripts. Bertil van Boer, in the second chapter of the text that
accompanies his thematic catalogue of the works of Joseph Martin Kraus, discusses four
Viennese copyists who worked for Johann Traeg, and provides small and rather unclear
facsimiles of them; see Bertil H. van Boer, Jr., Joseph Martin Kraus (1756-1792):
A Systematic-Thematic Catalogue o f His Musical Works and Source Study, Thematic
Catalogues, vol. 26 (Stuyvesant, NY: Pendragon Press, 1998), esp. 284-85, 292, and
Examples 2-3 and 2-17. Agnes Sas, “Chronology of Georg Dnischetzki’s Works
Preserved in His Estate,” Sntdia Musicologica 31 (1989): 161-215, includes facsimiles of
seven copyists associated with sources of Druschetzky’s works (Facs. 1- 7, pp. 169-75).
Most or all of these copyists seem to have been associated with Druschetzky when he
lived in Hungary, and are thus not specifically “Viennese.” Appendix 3 of Jay D. Lane,
“The Concertos of Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf ’ (Ph.D. diss., Yale University, 1997)
contains facsimiles of 65 hands, many of them probably Viennese, found in sources of
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200
Brown’s “Notes on Some Eighteenth-Century Viennese Copyists” is to my knowledge
the only article to have appeared to date that deals in a general way with Viennese music
copyists during the period of Haydn and Mozart.8 1 Unlike the Haydn scholars just
discussed, Brown makes reference to the methodological literature on musical
handwriting, but he makes little or no use of the methods discussed in the literature he
cites.8 2 His article, although useful, is unreliable and suffers from its avoidance of
method. To take only one example: Brown discusses a set of parts in the
Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin for a keyboard concerto in C by Joseph Anton Steffan.8 3 As
Brown points out, the title page of this set is inscribed with the name “Haschke,”
referring to the Viennese music copyist Simon Haschke, who advertised in the
Wienerisches Diarium during the years 1767 to 1771.8 4 Brown refers to this set of parts
as a “signed copy,” and the name on the title page does indeed include a stylized
concertos by Dittersdorf. In addition. Lane’s dissertation contains the most cogent
discussion to date of Dittersdorfs own hand. Elsewhere in this dissertation I shall
occasionally refer in specific contexts to additional facsimiles in other publications.
8 1 Brown, “Viennese Copyists.”
8 2 In his first footnote, Brown (op. cit.) refers to three studies that include explicit
methods for identifying musical handwriting: Alan Tyson, “Notes on Five of
Beethoven’s Copyists,” Journal o f the American Musicological Society 23 (1970): 439-
71; Ingmar Bengtsson and Ruben Danielson, Handstilar och Notpikturer i Kungl.
Musikaliska Akademiens Roman-Samling (Handwriting and M usical Calligraphy in the
J. H.-Roman-Collection o f the Swedish Royal Academy o f Music), Studia musicologica
upsaliensia (Uppsala, 1935); and Hans Lenneberg, “Handwriting Identification and
Common Sense,” Fontes Artis Musicae 27 (1980): 30-32. The first two of these studies
will be discussed in detail below.
8 3 D-B, Mus. ms. 21188/5. The concerto is Setkovd 119; see Dana Setkova,
K lavim i dilo Josefa Antonina Stipana, Hudebnf rozpravy, vol. 12 (Prague: Statro
Hudebnf Vydavatelstvf, 1965).
8 4 See Brown, “Viennese Copyists,” 327-30. Brown’s Figures 1 and 2 give
facsimiles of the title page and the first page of the part for first violin from the parts for
Steffan’s concerto. On Haschke’s advertisements in the Wiener Zeitung, see Hannelore
Gericke, Der Wiener Musikalienhandel von 1700 bis 1778, Wiener Musikwissen-
schaftliche BeitrSge, ed. Erich Schenk, vol. 5 (Graz and Cologne: Hermann Bohlaus
Nachf., I960), 104-5.
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abbreviation for “manu propria,” suggesting that it may be Haschke’s own signature.
Brown also provides a facsimile of Haschke’s signed marriage contract, perhaps
intending to imply that the signature on the contract in some way verifies the signature on
the concerto parts.8 5 Yet he does not make this connection explicit, and the two
signatures are in fact radically different: that on the marriage contract is written in German
script, whereas that on the title page is written in italic. Brown implies that the entire set
of parts is written by Haschke, and he illustrates what he believes to be Haschke’s
musical hand by providing a facsimile of the first page of the part for first violin.
Yet Brown has failed to notice that the parts for Steffan’s concerto are actually
written by at least two quite distinct hands. The first is responsible for the keyboard part
and the incipit at the bottom-right comer of the title page, and this same hand was
probably responsible for the rest of the title page as well. A second distinct hand is found
in the six orchestral parts.8 6 A detailed comparison of the two hands shows that they
differ in nearly every one of their principal characteristics. Some of these differences are
evident even from Brown’s facsimiles. For example, the incipit on the title page includes
three half notes with upward-pointing stems. In all three, the stem and notehead are
drawn with separate strokes, the first forming the circular notehead and the second the
stem. A close examination of the keyboard part shows that this manner of forming half
notes is consistent and characteristic for this hand. In the part for first violin the half
notes are likewise drawn with two strokes, but in a quite different way: the initial stroke
begins with the lower arc of the notehead, then continues upward to form the stem as part
of the same stroke. The upper arc of the notehead is then added with a separate stroke.
8 5 The facsimile of Haschke’s marriage contract is given in Brown’s Figure 3.
8 6 There is some evidence to suggest that the basso may have been written by yet
a third hand.
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This method of drawing a half note likewise proves to be consistent and characteristic for
this second hand. The two hands also draw sharps in quite different ways. In the incipit
on the title page, the vertical lines of the sharps in the key signature are quite long, filling
or nearly rilling the entire staff. The corresponding vertical lines in the sharps of the key
signature of the part for first violin are much shorter. This difference between the two
hands is likewise consistent and distinguishing. An examination of the original parts
shows several additional characteristics that unambiguously distinguish the two hands,
including the bass clefs, the quarter rests, the final double bars, and the abbreviation for
forte. If one of these hands is Haschke’s—and it is essential to keep in mind that
a “signature” on a title page, even one marked “manu propria,” does not guarantee that
the person whose name appears there wrote either the signature or the music—then it is
much more likely to be the hand of the title page and keyboard part, not the hand shown
in Brown’s facsimile of the part for first violin.
Studies of musical handwriting
Six particularly important discussions of methods for analyzing and identifying
musical handwriting are (in chronological order): (1) Ingmar Bengtsson and Ruben
Danielson, Handstilar och Notpikturer i Kungl. Musikaliska Akademiens Roman-Samling
(Handwriting and Musical Calligraphy in the J. H.-Roman-Collection of the Swedish
Royal Academy of Music), published in 1955; (2) Georg von Dadelsen’s Beitrage zur
Chronologie der Werke Johann Sebastian Bachs, published in 1958, especially Part 2,
“Die Handschrift als Hilfsmittel einer Chronologie”; (3) Alan Tyson’s “Notes on Five of
Beethoven’s Copyists,” published in the Journal o f the American Musicological
Society in 1970; (4) Peter Jeffery’s 1980 Princeton dissertation “The Autograph
Manuscripts of Francesco Cavalli”; (5) Agnes Ziffer’s 1984 study Kleinmeister zur Zeit
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203
der Wiener Klassik; and (6) Ldszld Somfai’s “Die Wiener GIuck-Kopisten - ein
Forschungsdesiderat,” based on a paper delivered at the Gluck KongreB in Vienna in
November 1987, and published in Gluck-Studien in 1989.8 7 I shall discuss each of these
studies in turn before going on to discuss in detail the methods of forensic handwriting
examiners (or, as they are most commonly known, questioned-document examiners).
Bengtsson and Danielson base their study of musical handwriting on the techniques
of what they call “forensic graphology,” particularly as developed by the American Albert
S. Osborn (about whom more later) and the German Hans Schneikert.8 8 As Bengtsson
and Danielson explain: “[Forensic graphology’s] goal is identification and it is based on
the determination of similarities, identifying characteristics, or invariances.”8 9 From
Schneikert they derive the notion of “identifying characteristics” (“identitetstecken” in
Swedish), which they define as follows:
8 7 Bengtsson and Danielson, Handstilar och Notpikturer, Georg von Dadelsen,
Beitrage zur Chronologie der Werke Johann Sebastian Bachs, TUbinger Bach-Studien,
ed. Walter Gerstenberg, vol. 4/5 (Trossingen: Hohner-Verlag, 1958), esp. Part 2, “Die
Handschrift als Hilfsmittel einer Chronologie,” section 1, “Zur Methode,” 49-68 and the
associated illustrations; Tyson, “Notes on Five of Beethoven’s Copyists”; Peter Jeffery,
“The Autograph Manuscripts of Francesco Cavalli” (Ph.D. diss., Princeton University,
1980); Agnes Ziffer, Kleinmeister zur Zeit der Wiener Klassik. Versuch einer
iibersichtlichen Darstellung sogenannter “Kleinmeister” im Umkreis von Haydn, Mozart,
Beethoven und Schubert sowie Studien zur Quellensicherung ihrer Werke, Publikationen
des Instituts fur Osterreichische Musikdokumentation, ed. Giinter Brosche, vol. 10
(Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1984); Laszld Somfai, “Die Wiener Gluck-Kopisten - ein
Forschungsdesiderat,” in Kongrefibericht Gluck in Wien. Wien, 12.-16. November
1987, ed. Gerhard Croll and Monika Woitas, Gluck-Studien, vol. I (Kassel, etc.:
Bdrenreiter, 1989), 178-82.
8 8 According to Jeffery, Danielson was a police handwriting expert; see “Cavalli,”
48.
8 9 Bengtsson and Danielson, Handstilar och Notpikturer i Kungl. Musikaliska
Akademiens Roman-Samling, trans. for Arthur Mendel of chapters 4-6 by Per Magnus
Wijkman (n. d.), London, British Library, shelf mark 7901.ff.6, 1 (26 in the Swedish
original). The authors propose the ungainly terms “graphography” and “graphographic
method” (Swedish “grafografi” and “grafografiska metoden”), to distinguish scientific
methods of handwriting identification from what they regard as the pseudo-science of
graphology.
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In the case of handwriting, [an identifying characteristic] could be
defined as a personal form o f movement fixed on paper, which is the
product of an (often unshakable) habit of an individual.9 0
According to Bengtsson and Danielson, Schneikert distinguishes between “primare
Merkmale” (primary characteristics) “with a high identification value (‘unusual,’ ‘special,’
‘original’),” and “sekundare Merkmale” (secondary characteristics), “with low
identification value (‘usual,’ ‘banal,’ ‘expressionless’).”9 1 They imply that Schneikert
believes that “identifying characteristics” are constant and invariable. However, they
rightly point out that the handwriting of a particular individual will usually show
considerable variation, often over quite a wide range.9 2 According to them, this variation
occurs because the unit of handwriting is not the letter, but rather what they call the
“grapheme,” which they define as “the unit of something written, which lies between two
movement minima.” They go on to explain that “[gjraphographic analysis is thus
a determination of graphemes and a description of their properties.”9 3
According to Bengtsson and Danielson, conclusions of identity are usually arrived
at easily (this is by no means always the case), but conclusions of non-identity are
difficult. By this they mean that a conclusion of the non-identity of two handwritings
does not necessarily imply that the two were written by different people. They also point
out that musical “graphemes” are not as strictly bound by convention as is the writing of
text, and they imply that musical characters are more closely analogous in this way to
9 0 Ibid.
9 1 Bengtsson and Danielson, Handstilar och Notpikturer, Wijkman’s translation, 2
(27 in original), n. 9.
9 2 Ibid.
9 3 Ibid. Peter Jeffery (“Cavalli,” 48) points out that the term “grapheme” already
has a different meaning in English in the field of linguistics.
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hand printing than to cursive writing, which is usually learned and drilled according to
a prevailing system:
One thing musical handwriting has in common with text handwriting,
especially with the writing of capital letters: there is a large number of
forms to choose from; that is to say, there are many schools or
“traditions” of writing.. 9 4
They go astray, in my view, in their emphasis on the search for shared characteristics. As
we shall see, one fundamental principle of forensic handwriting identification is that two
handwritings cannot be proved to have been written by the same person merely on the
basis of shared characteristics. Crucial to the validity of any such proof of identity is the
absence o f significant differences that cannot be reasonably explained (I shall refer to this
as “the principle of unexplained differences”). Bengtsson and Danielson also give
insufficient attention to another basic principle of forensic handwriting identification: the
distinction between “system” characteristics (that is, the characteristic forms learned by
most people in a particular region at a particular time) and personal characteristics.
In spite of these methodological flaws, Bengtsson and Danielson nevertheless give
a useful analysis of the characteristic components of musical symbols. Their discussion
deals in particular with the forms and direction in the writing of the treble clef; the forms
of the C and bass clefs; the forms of half notes, including the direction in which the stem
is written and the side of the notehead to which it is attached; the forms of the quarter rest
(they distinguish here between “French” types and “ordinary” types); and the forms of
beams.9 5 They also outline the principal sources of error in cases where two samples of
9 4 Bengtsson and Danielson, Handstilar och Notpikturer, Wijkman’s translation, 5
(33 in original).
9 5 Bengtsson and Danielson, Handstilar och Notpikturer, Wijkman’s translation, 6-
8 (34-36 in original). In their analysis of the hand of Johan Helmich Roman (1694-
1758), they also take into account sharps, eighth and sixteenth rests, and eighth and
sixteenth notes (op. ciL, 9; 36-37 in original).
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handwriting by the same person are not recognized as such: (1) different circumstances
(for example, formal handwriting in contrast to hurried), (2) different personal conditions
(age, state of mind), (3) different writing instruments, (4) different writing surfaces,
(3) different writing positions, and (6) what they call “bimorphism,” by which they mean
two or more radically different forms of the same letter (or, by extension, musical
symbol) in the handwriting repertoire of a single individual.
Probably the most well-known and influential method for the identification of
musical handwriting is that developed by Georg von Dadelsen, in his Beitrdge zur
Chronologie der Werke Johann Sebastian Bachs.9 6 Dadelsen begins his discussion of
handwriting with an extended discussion of the basic methodological flaws of earlier
work in the field, much of which was based on impressionistic description rather than on
the careful analysis of forms. Such impressionistic descriptions can vary radically among
different observers. As Dadelsen explains:
What appears sweeping to one person will already strike another as
mannered or affected. What might perhaps, in comparison with a later
stage of development, still seem ‘fluid,” can already look stiff when
held next to an earlier one.9 7
He notes that musical handwriting may vary according to the conditions under which it
was written and the purposes for which it was written. A composer’s handwriting in
96 See the full bibliographical reference to Dadelsen’s study in n. 87. See also
Georg von Dadelsen, Bemerkungen zur Handschrift Johann Sebastian Bachs, seiner
Familie und seines Kreises, TObinger Bach-Studien, ed. Walter Gerstenberg, vol. 1
(Trossingen: Hohner-Verlag, 1957). Dadelsen’s work on the chronology of Bach’s
handwriting has been refined and extended, notably by Yoshitake Kobayashi; see esp.
Die Notenschrift Johann Sebastian Bachs. Dokumentation ihrer Entwicklung, Serie IX,
Band 2 of Johann Sebastian Bach. Neue Ausgabe sdmtlicher Werke (Kassel: Barenreiter,
1989).
9 7 Dadelsen, Beitrdge, 53. “Was dem einen schwungvoll erscheint, gilt dem
anderen bereits als maniriert oder gezierL Was im Vergleich mit einer spSteren
Entwicklungsstufe vielleicht noch ‘fliissig’ anmuten mag, kann, neben eine friihere
gehalten, bereits steif wirken.”
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a “draft” (“Konzept”) may be quite different from that used for a fair-copy
(“Reinschrift”). He then goes on to outline a general method for the analysis of musical
handwriting (what he calls a “Schreiberkritik”) based on the objective observation of the
forms of musical symbols.
Dadelsen’s analysis comprises four larger divisions, which may be outlined as
follows (I have retained the letters that Dadelsen uses to identify sections, thus omitting
“I” and “U”):
I. General criteria
A. Overall layout
B . Slant
C . Mobility (“Bewegtheit des Notenbilds”)
D. Force and weight
E. Size of notes
F. Structure
II. Clefs, Braces, Time Signatures
G . Treble clef
H. Cclef
J . Bass clef
K. Braces
L. Time signatures
III. Rests
M. Quarter rests
N . Eighth rests
O. Whole and half rests
IV. Notes, accidentals, etc.
P. Black notes
Q.
Noteheads
R. Individual eighth notes
S. Flags on sixteenth notes
T. Beams
V. Natural signs
W. Sharps
X. Flats
Y. Miscellaneous (bar lines, double bars, fermatas, slurs,
ornaments, custodes)
Z. Text handwriting in musical symbols
The headings in Dadelsen’s first major division are adapted from Georg Schiinemann,
who discussed musical handwriting in the introduction to his Musiker-Handschriften von
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Bach bis Schumann, a collection of facsimiles of pages from composers’ autographs,
published in 1936.9 8 Dadelsen was also aware of the work of Bengtsson and Danielson,
and their work probably had some influence on his approach to the analysis of individual
musical symbols." The novelty of Dadelsen’s method lay in its systematic and detailed
analysis of the wide variety of forms used in musical handwriting, which Dadelsen
illustrated by means of many numbered examples taken from the hands of Bach, his
family, his students, and his circle.
Dadelsen’s analysis is so thorough, in fact, that one might easily be misled into
believing that his illustrations can be taken as a comprehensive catalogue of possible
forms. For example, he illustrates forty-nine distinct forms of C clef, forty-nine forms of
treble clef, no fewer than fifty-nine forms of quarter rest, and lesser but still substantia]
numbers of forms for the bass clef, the brace, and other musical symbols.1 0 0 However,
the forms illustrated by Dadelsen by no means exhaust those that are possible; for
example, the general design of C clef most commonly found in the handwriting of
9 8 Georg SchUnemann, Musiker-Handschriften von Bach bis Schumann (Berlin:
Atlantis, 1936). For more on SchUnemann’s method, see below, in the discussion of
Peter Jeffery’s dissertation on Cavalli.
" For Dadelsen’s discussion of Bengtsson and Danielson, see his Bemerkungen,
10.
io o Wolfgang Reich, in his study of Zelenka’s Dresden copyists, refers to “types” in
Dadelsen’s table by their letter and number; see his “Jan Dismas Zelenka und seine
Dresdner Kopisten,” in Zelenka-Studien I, ed. Thomas Kohlhase, Musik des Ostens
(Kassel: BSrenreiter, 1993), 109-139. Thus, for example, in his description of the hand
of Gottlob Harrer, Reich writes: “Von etwa 1726 bis etwa 1738 entwickeln sich die
wichtigsten Elemente der Reinschrift Harrers in folgender Weise: Der Violinschltissel
von Dadelsen G 6 1 Qber G 35 zu G 78; der C-Schlussel von Dadelsen H 3 1 iiber H 6 (mit
tiefangesetzter ‘3’) zu H 54, der BaBschlOssel von J 2 zu J 41, die Achtelnote von R 28
zu R 23 bzw. zu R 2” (“From around 1726 to around 1738, the most important elements
of Harrer’s Reinschrift developed in the following manner the treble clef from Dadelsen
G 61 through G 35 to G 78; the C-cIef from Dadelsen H 3 1 through H 6 [with the ‘3’
attached at a lower point] to H 54, the bass clef from J 2 to J 41, the eighth notes from
R 28 to R 23 or R 2”; Reich, op. cit., 115). It must be said that this method of
describing a hand does not have much to recommend it.
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eighteenth-century Viennese music copyists is not illustrated by Dadelsen, and his table
also omits many forms of C clef commonly found in Italian manuscripts of the eighteenth
century.1 0 1 That his examples are not comprehensive is hardly surprising, given the
restricted universe of hands from which they are drawn, and he clearly was not attempting
to provide a comprehensive catalogue in any case. Indeed, as Dadelsen himself almost
certainly realized, such a catalogue is probably not possible even in principle, just as it
would be impossible to provide a comprehensive catalogue of all possible forms of the
letter “A.” His intent was, rather, to provide representative examples of the kinds and
range of variation that occur in individual musical symbols, in an effort to train the
reader’s eye to notice these distinctions. Dadelsen’s method of analysis had a decisive
impact on the early stages of my own work on musical handwriting in just this way. Like
the other studies discussed in this section, however, Dadelsen neglects the principle of
unexplained differences and he fails to deal in a satisfactory way with the question of
writing “systems” and their relationship to individual hands.
Alan Tyson, in his 1970 article on Beethoven’s copyists, refers to neither the work
of Bengtsson and Danielson, nor that of Dadelsen.1 0 2 Nevertheless, his method is similar
to theirs in many respects. He identifies musical hands by analyzing the characteristic
forms of clefs, braces, dynamics, accidentals, dynamics, rests, and what he whimsically,
and not quite correctly, calls “colophons” (decorated double bars at the end of a piece or
movement). Tyson then interprets these findings in light of documentary evidence,
including Beethoven’s correspondence and conversation books. In this way, he is able to
make a fairly persuasive case for the identification of the hand of Wenzel Schlemmer, one
1 0 1 For a description and illustrations of the “Viennese” C clef, see below.
1 0 2 Tyson, “Beethoven’s Copyists.”
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of Beethoven’s most important copyists between (according to Tyson) 1799 and
Schlemmer’s death in 1823. Tyson describes his reasoning as follows:
. . . if a substantial number of important scores, extending over a long
period of time, are recognizably by a single copyist, it is a reasonable
assumption that that copyist was Schlemmer.1 0 3
Bartha and Somfai have argued in a similar way that if a particular hand appears in the
Esterhazy opera material throughout a well-defined range of dates, and if that range
matches the period of known employment of a person in the Esterhazy Kapelle, as
documented in the Acta Musicalia, then it is reasonable to suppose (although it cannot be
taken as fully proved) that the hand belongs to the person.
Tyson rightly cautions that we must be on our guard against mistaking for
Schlemmer copyists who may merely have imitated him. He also points out that
a confused picture of a copyist’s “style” may result when several copyists have worked
on the same score, “perhaps even the same page.” 1 0 4 Like Bengtsson and Danielson,
Tyson recognizes that identification may be impeded by the variation that can arise in
a particular person’s hand when writing has been done under differing circumstances.
Tyson’s method suffers from the same flaws as that of Bengtsson and Danielson:
he neglects the principle of unexplained differences, and he fails to place hands in the
context of the prevailing “system” styles. The second of these methodological problems
is evident in his analysis of Schlemmer’s hand: the forms of quarter rests that Tyson
describes as being characteristic of Schlemmer were extremely common in the prevailing
Viennese system style of the time. In fact, most of the forms said to be characteristic of
Schlemmer’s hand (as illustrated in the appendix to Tyson’s article) are more or less
1 0 3 Tyson, “Beethoven’s Copyists,” 442.
1 0 4 Tyson, “Beethoven’s Copyists,” 442-43.
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genetically Viennese, and are therefore probably not personally characteristic. Thus
Schlemmer’s hand would seem to need to be more precisely described and differentiated
if we are to feel fully confident in identifying i t 1 0 5 As a result, not all of Tyson’s
identifications of Schlemmer’s hand seem equally persuasive. In short, Tyson is on the
right track, but his method is insufficiently refined.
Several other minor criticisms might be made of Tyson’s method. Tyson is quite
right to give multiple facsimiles of each of the principal musical symbols in each hand he
discusses in order to illustrate the range of variation for that symbol (he does not explain
how these facsimiles were produced, but they would seem to be tracings). However, he
does not place clefs in relation to staff lines—in fact, staff lines are omitted altogether
from the facsimiles in the appendix to his article. Yet the orientation of a clef in relation to
the end of the staff, as well its vertical placement on the staff, and its size relative to it can
all be significant characteristics of an individual hand. In providing multiple facsimiles,
Tyson also runs the risk of arguing circularly: he may, for example, have included
facsimiles of a particular symbol because he believes the symbols to match those written
by a copyist whose hand has appeared in a previously examined manuscript. These
facsimiles may then implicitly be used as evidence that the samples with which they were
originally matched are also by that same copyist In fact I shall argue that such logical
“bootstrapping” is probably unavoidable when one is trying to form a picture of the hand
of an anonymous copyist—but one needs to be aware of the danger of circular reasoning,
and to try to adapt one’s methodology to deal with it. Tyson does not divulge the sources
of his samples, although such information could potentially have been useful, and is in
any case crucial forjudging the reliability of these sources as “standards” for the hand.
1 0 5 Tyson, “Beethoven’s Copyists,” Appendix, 468.
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The potential confusion here points up the importance of distinguishing between
“handwritings” and “hands,” a distinction Tyson does not make.
More seriously, Tyson fails to distinguish between “system” and personal
characteristics in musical handwriting. As I have already mentioned, many of the
characteristics that Tyson describes (especially for Schlemmer’s hand) are very common
in Viennese copies. Tyson also ignores potentially important musical symbols in his
descriptions: most importantly time signatures, but also accidentals, C clefs,
characteristic capitals, the slant of stems and barlines, the formation of noteheads, and so
on. He implicitly recognizes (but fails to make explicit) the crucial point that it is not the
exact appearance of any individual example of a symbol that matters, but rather its form.
Peter Jeffery, in his dissertation on the autograph manuscripts of Cavalli, gives
renewed consideration to the methods of forensic document examination. He begins with
a review of the previous literature on composers’ autographs, focusing particularly on the
work of Georg Schiinemann and Emanuel Wintemitz.1 0 6 SchUnemann had been perhaps
the first to point out that the investigation of musical handwriting should focus on musical
symbols, not on letters, and he had outlined eight characteristics that ought to be taken
into account in any analysis of musical handwriting. These are: (1) the general layout,
(2) the “Bewegtheit” (mobility) of the handwriting,1 0 7 (3) pen pressure, (4) slant, (5) the
size and spacing of noteheads, (6) note groupings, (7) musical symbols other than notes,
and (8) corrections and changes.
Jeffery also briefly discusses Wintemitz’s Musical Autographs from Monteverdi to
Hindemith, although he pays little attention to Wintemitz’s detailed discussion of the
1 0 6 See Jeffery, “Cavalli,” 30-46, referring to Schiinemann, Musiker-Handschriften
von Bach bis Schumann, and Emanuel Wintemitz, Musical Autographs from Monteverdi
to Hindemith, 2 vols. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1955).
1 0 7 Jeffery translates “Bewegtheit,” somewhat misleadingly, as “agitation.”
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formation of musical symbols. This is unfortunate. To be sure, Wintemitz’s method for
the analysis of musical handwriting is far from comprehensive, and it is still partly mired
in the subjective and impressionistic vocabulary of the pre-Dadelsen era. Even so,
Wintemitz gives a systematic and useful analysis of the possible forms of the half note, an
analysis that has not been superseded by any of the other authors considered here.1 0 8
However, the principal importance of Jeffery’s discussion lies in his description
and use of the methods of questioned-document examiners, expert witnesses who are
called upon in legal cases to testify on the authenticity or authorship of questioned
handwriting.1 0 9 Previous writers on musical handwriting— notably Bengtsson and
Danielson, and Dadelsen— have also drawn on the methods of forensic handwriting
identification. However, to my knowledge Jeffery is the first music historian to have
attempted to come to terms in a comprehensive way with the rich literature in English on
this topic, especially the two classic texts in the field. Questioned Documents by Albert
S. Osborn (Erst published in 1910 and still in print in the revised second edition of 1929),
and Suspect Documents: Their Scientific Examination by Wilson R. Harrison (first
published in 1958).1 1 0 Jeffery, drawing largely on Harrison, gave a fine summary of
these methods, and he went on to use them as the basis for his own identification of
Cavalli’s textual and musical handwriting. His account of the necessary distinction
between “system” characteristics (which Jeffery calls “style” characteristics) and
individual characteristics is particularly good, as is his treatment of the problem of
1 0 8 Wintemitz, Musical Autographs, 27-30. Wintemitz’s entire discussion of the
characteristics of individual musical handwriting (op. cit., 26-33) makes many valuable
points and is still well worth reading.
1 0 9 Jeffery, “Cavalli,” 47-59.
1 1 0 Osborn, Questioned Documents, and Wilson R. Harrison, Suspect Documents:
Their Scientific Examination (Chicago: Nelson-Hall, 1981).
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variation in handwriting. Jeffery also makes several valuable points regarding the special
problems faced by historians who work with handwriting. I shall refer several times to
Jeffery over the course of my own discussion in the following section of the methods of
question-document examiners.
Jeffery does not, however, apply these methods directly to the description of
musical handwriting. His emphasis, instead, is on collecting “ standards” of Cavalli’s
textual hand (notably wills, letters, and other documents), and using these as evidence for
identifying Cavalli’s musical hand, by matching authenticated textual handwriting with
texts in musical scores. He does not attempt a full description of Cavalli’s musical hand
based on the principles of questioned-document examiners, nor does he address the
problem of the collection of “standards” for musical hands. I shall attempt to address
both of these issues in the present chapter.
Agnes Ziffer, in her 1984 study of the hands of Viennese “Kleinmeister,” employs
a fully developed method for the description of musical handwriting.1 1 1 Unfortunately,
she does not explicitly describe this method or its background and antecedents, referring
the reader instead to an earlier and (apparently) unpublished “Forschungsarbeit” from
1977, “Untersuchungen zum Charakter von Originalhandschriften der Musik im
traditionellen Bereich der Notenschrift vom Barock bis zur Romantik.”1 1 2 However, the
essential points of Ziffer’s method can be deduced from the structure of her entries on
individual composers.
1 1 1 Ziffer, Kleinmeister.
1 1 2 See the reference in Ziffer, Kleinmeister, 16.
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Each entry is divided into three main sections: “Allgemein” (general),
“Charakteristik der Zeichen und Formen” (characteristics of signs and forms), and
“Zusammenfassung” (summary). Her system for the analysis of musical handwriting can
be outlined as follows (the original German for Ziffer’s headings is given only where
there is possibility of confusion):
I. General
A. Overall plan and use of space (Gesamtplan und Raumgestaltung)
B. General appearance of the hand (Schriftbild allgemein)
C. Size
D. General characterization of forms (Formen allgemein)
E. Weight (Druckstflrke)
F. Extension (Ausdehnung)
G . Movement and slant (FUhrung, Richtung)
H . Quality of line (Verlauf)
I. Consistency (Stetigkeit der Schriftziige)
II. Characteristics of signs and forms
A. Framing symbols (Rahmensymbolik)
1. Braces and clefs
2. Time signatures and tempo markings
3. Dynamic markings
4. Expression markings and ornaments
5. Repeat signs and ornamental final double bars
6. Miscellaneous characteristics
B. Musical Symbols
1. Notes
2. Flags
3. Stems
4. Beams
5. Rests
6 . Barlines and slurs
7. Accidentals
8. Cancellations and corrections
III. Summary
(includes a sample of the person’s signature, if available)
Ziffer’s analytical scheme has much in common with Dadelsen’s, although she adds
a few useful points that Dadelsen does not mention (notably “Cancellations and
corrections”). Her entries under each heading combine verbal descriptions with copious
illustrations taken from facsimiles. In addition, the end of her volume contains facsimiles
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of complete pages written by each of the hands she discusses. Ziffer also seems to have
attempted to develop a limited, well-defined, and consistent vocabulary for her
descriptions. Thus, for example, under the heading “Ausdehnung” (which I have
translated here as “extension”), we find such descriptions as “natiirlich” (“natural”;
Albrechtsberger), “natiirlich bis gedrangt” (“natural to crowded”; Dittersdorf), “natiirlich
bis etwas gedehnt” (“natural to somewhat stretched”; Gyrowetz), and so on. That these
descriptions are somewhat impressionistic is perhaps unavoidable. Ziffer seems not to
have attempted to quantify any of these qualities or characteristics through, for example,
the measurement of angles or absolute sizes, or through the use of ratios (for example, the
ratio of the length of a stem to the diameter of the notehead).
Ziffer’s method for the analysis of musical handwriting is one of the most complete
and thorough that has appeared to date, matching and in some areas even surpassing the
more well-known studies of Bengtsson and Danielson, and of Dadelsen. The “general”
portion of Ziffer’s analysis seems to descend from Schiinemann, and her two-fold
division of musical symbols is similar to Dadelsen’s. On the other hand, she shows no
awareness of the work of American or British questioned-document examiners. Thus,
for example, her analyses do not mention the “system” to which a particular musical
handwriting may belong, an essential component of the Anglo-American approach. More
seriously, she omits any mention of the sources upon which her analyses are
based—what Osbom and other questioned-document examiners would call the
“standards.” Thus we have no idea where her examples come from or why she believes
that they are written by the person to whom she assigns them. In the cases of composers
for whom a substantial number of uncontested or signed autographs survive, such as
Albrechtsberger, Emanuel Aloys Ffirster, or Salieri, this omission is probably harmless.
However, the hands of other composers, such as Dittersdorf, are much less well
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217
understood and the identification of their “autographs” has consequently remained
uncertain and subject to debate. Jay D. Lane has persuasively shown that the manuscript
that appears to have been Ziffer’s principal source—the score of a mass attributed to
“Ditters” in the Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek—is almost certainly not in Dittersdorf s
hand.1 1 3 One wishes, then, that Ziffer had provided more information about the sources
upon which her analyses of such hands were based and her reasons for regarding them as
genuine autographs.
The individual analyses in Ziffer’s study, although carefully organized, appear
rather chaotic at first glance, perhaps because she has attempted to crowd too much
information onto what were obviously standardized forms. These forms have been
reproduced in the volume photographically, rather than typeset. The individual
illustrations within each entry seem to have been cut and pasted from photocopies, and the
resulting second- or third-hand reproduction of these photocopies in the published volume
suffer from a predictable degradation in quality. Nor is it always clear exactly what
Ziffer’s illustrations are intended to illustrate. What is more, some of Ziffer’s categories
seem rather fuzzily defined. It is unclear, for example, what distinguishes her category
1 1 3 See Lane, “The Concertos of Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf,” 387-91 and the
associated facsimiles on 409-415. Lane’s analysis of Dittersdorf s hand is part of a much
longer appendix dealing with the handwriting in all extant manuscripts of Dittersdorf s
concertos. Lane begins his appendix with a brief consideration of the methods for the
identification of musical handwriting (op. tit., 382-86). He does not, however, mention
the studies of Bengtsson and Danielson, Dadelsen, Jeffery, or Somfai, and his own
method, which he has used for his analysis of Dittersdorf s hand, is based largely on
SchQnemann. Lane thus gives too little consideration to the forms of individual musical
symbols, and relies too heavily on more general characteristics, such as “size,”
“crowdedness,” “weight of the hand,” and so on, all of which he describes using
relatively subjective terminology. Even so, his discussion of Dittersdorf s hand is largely
persuasive, although the unexplained significant differences found in many of the musical
symbols in the manuscript for the Harpsichord Concerto in A (facsimile, op. tit., 409)
would seem at present to preclude a positive identification of the hand on the basis of die
evidence that Lane provides.
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“Schriftbild allgemein” (which I have translated as “general appearance of the hand”) from
her category “Formen allgemein” (which I have translated as “general characterization of
forms”). She also sometimes lumps together in a single category characteristics that
might be more effectively treated separately, as in her “Vortragszeichen bzw.
Verzierungszeichen” (expression markings and ornaments). In spite of these quibbles,
Ziffer’s book is an important methodological contribution to the analysis of musical
handwriting, and it deserves more attention in this regard than it has hitherto received.
My own work on Viennese music copyists was originally inspired by Ldszld
Somfai’s paper on Gluck copyists, delivered at the Gluck-KongreB in Vienna in 1987.1 1 4
The published version of this paper, although brief, includes a wealth of practical
techniques and advice bearing on the identification of anonymous copyists. Most
importantly, Somfai illustrates a standardized form that can be used to record the various
musical symbols in a particular sample of handwriting. Although Somfai does not
explicitly say so, the advantages of such a form are obvious: it can help insure that one
remembers consistently to record samples of every symbol from the set that one is using
for comparison. Placing illustrations of the most prominent and characteristic musical
symbols on a single page greatly simplifies the rapid comparison of different samples of
handwriting (one can, in effect, “flip through” them). As leading theorists of forensic
document examination have noted, drawing symbols by hand helps the examiner
remember their form.1 1 5 In my own work, I have used a somewhat simpler form
modeled on Somfai’s (see Figure 3.1 later on in this chapter), and I have drawn the
1 1 4 Somfai, “Die Wiener GIuck-Kopisten.” I would like to thank Professor Somfai
for his warm encouragement and helpful advice in a conversation in Budapest in 1988
concerning the study of music copyists.
1 1 5 See the references in n. 167.
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symbols freehand, rather than tracing them. As Somfai makes clear, one must whenever
possible supplement such a form with photocopies or photographs of the handwriting.
Somfai makes several other practical suggestions. He notes that one should always
take care to examine originals, not just photocopies, so that one may determine not only
the form of a symbol (such as a clef), but also the point at which the pen first touched the
paper and the direction of the subsequent stroke.1 1 6 He points out that it is essential to
record the forms of C and bass clefs, as well as treble clefs (something that many scholars
of eighteenth-century Viennese music have failed to do). He emphasizes the importance
of recording the placement of a clef in relation to the end of the staff, and he suggests
recording several examples of each clef from the same source. Examples of characteristic
letters should also be noted, according to Somfai, and these should likewise be taken
from originals, in order to avoid the danger of mistaking a later inscription for an earlier
one. He also suggests that the numbering of anonymous copyists be done last, after all
source material is examined. This advice perhaps seems sensible when one is dealing
with a restricted and well-defined body of sources, such as the Esterhdzy opera materials.
However, his advice proves to be impractical when one is dealing simultaneously (as one
in fact must for Mozart) with all of the hundreds of copyists who were active within a
particular region over an extended period. One obviously cannot wait until all eighteenth-
century Viennese copyists have been seen before assigning numbers to them. I shall
return to this problem later on.
I shall close my overview of previous work on musical handwriting with a brief
consideration of related work on the musical handwritings of particular composers,
followed by a brief summary of previous work on Mozart’s copyists. As we have seen,
1 1 6 The points in this paragraph are all found in Somfai, “Die Wiener Gluck-
Kopisten,” 179.
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220
Dadelsen developed his method of handwriting identification in the context of a larger
study of the chronology of the handwriting of Johann Sebastian Bach. Because Bach’s
handwriting assumed at least two distinct and quite different styles (what are usually
called “Gebrauchsschrift” or “everyday script,” and “Kalligraphie”), because these styles
changed, sometimes quite radically, over the course of Bach’s life, and because the
handwriting of many members of Bach’s circle could be easily confused with his,
Dadelsen realized that an essential first step in tracing the chronology of Bach’s hand was
to determine, with confidence, exactly which manuscripts were in fact written by him.
Among other studies of handwriting of particular composers, I shall mention just
four that are of special relevance to this dissertation. The eminent Mozart scholar
Wolfgang Plath published two classic articles under the general title “Beitriige zur Mozart-
Autographie,” articles which revolutionized our understanding of Mozart’s hand and its
chronology.1 1 7 In the first, Plath carefully investigated and described the handwriting of
Leopold Mozart, and was consequently able to show that a large number of manuscripts
that had long been attributed to Wolfgang were actually in Leopold’s hand, while yet
others contained a mixture of the two hands. Plath identified three principal styles in
Leopold’s musical hand: “Kalligraphie,” “normale Gebrauchsschrift” (normal everyday
script), and “flUchtige Skizzen- oder Konzeptschrift” (rapid sketch- or draft-script).1 1 8
The latter two are uncannily similar to Wolfgang’s own hand from adolescence onward,
1 1 7 The two articles are Wolfgang Plath, “Beitrage zur Mozart-Autographie I. Die
Handschrift Leopold Mozarts,” in Mozart-Jahrbuch 1960/61 (Salzburg, 1961), 82-118;
and idem,“Beitrhge zur Mozart-Autographie II. Schriftchronologie 1770-1780,” in
Mozart-Jahrbuch 1976/77 (Kassel: Bhrenreiter, 1978), 131-73. Both articles are
reprinted in Wolfgang Plath, Mozart-Schriften. Ausgewahlte Aufsdtze, ed. Marianne
Danckwardt, Schriftenreihe der Intemationalen Stiftung Mozarteum Salzburg, vol. 9,
(Kassel: Barenreiter, 1991), 28-73 and 221-65. Page references here are to the original
publications.
1 1 8 Plath, “Beitrage zur Mozart-Autographie I,” 86.
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and it is not surprising that many previous and less meticulous observers had often
confused the hands of father and son.
In his second article, Plath carefully traced the chronological change in Wolfgang’s
handwriting over the decade from 1770 to 1780, from the composer’s early adolescence
to young adulthood. By making precise observations of the changes in the ways that
Mozart drew particular symbols, Plath was able to make a persuasive case that the
composer’s hand could be classified into three distinct periods: 1770-71/2,1772-74, and
1775-80. He was further able to show that the second of these periods was subdivided
into three phases: March to August 1772, March to December 1773, and April to
November 1774 (the gaps in that chronology arose from the inaccessibility at the time
Plath was writing of the large group of Mozart autographs that are now in Krakdw). As
Plath was able to show, the characteristics of Mozart’s hand during these phases were,
for the most part, sufficiently well-defined and consistent to allow these characteristics to
be used with a high degree of confidence as evidence for dating undated works. Most of
Plath’s conclusions have proved to be in remarkably close agreement with the results of
Alan Tyson’s studies of the paper-types in Mozart’s autographs.
Plath was interested in method only as a means to an end, and he had little to say
about the details of his approach, although his method is evident from his practice. He
refers only fleetingly to Dadelsen at the beginning of his first article, and then only to the
general remarks in Dadelsen’s Bemerkungen zur Handschrift Johann Sebastian Bachs,
rather than to the fully developed method outlined in his Beitrdge zur Chronologie der
Werke Johann Sebastian Bachs.1 1 9 Plath did not attempt comprehensive descriptions of
the musical hands of either Leopold or Wolfgang Mozart, focusing instead on a small
1 1 9 For Plath’s reference to Dadelsen, see “Beitrage zur Mozart-Autographie I,” 83
and n. 2.
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number of tell-tale characteristics that reliably distinguished between the two hands and
between the chronological phases of Wolfgang’s hand.
By far the most important contribution to the study of Mozart’s handwriting since
Plath has been made by Ulrich Konrad, in his book Mozarts Schaffensweise, particularly
the third chapter, “Die auBere Gestalt der Manuskripte Mozarts, im besonderen der
Skizzenmanuskripte” (The outer appearance of Mozart’s manuscripts, particularly the
sketch manuscripts).1 2 0 As I have pointed out elsewhere, Konrad distinguishes between
Mozart’s “public’’ hand (the hand used for musical manuscripts intended to be read by
others, and the hand that was the focus of Plath’s attention) and his “private” hand (the
hand used in sketches that were not intended to be read by others). He then goes on to
provide the first comprehensive description of Mozart’s difficult and idiosyncratic
“sketch-hand” (“Skizzenschrift”).,2,
Brief mention may also be made here of three additional studies of musical
handwriting. In his dissertation on Beethoven’s early sketches, Douglas Johnson gives
a highly detailed analysis of the chronology of Beethoven’s musical handwriting.1 2 2
Although he does not explicitly address questions of methodology in his analysis, his
implicit method strongly resembles Dadelsen’s. An article by Barry S. Brook and Marvin
1 2 0 Konrad, M ozarts Schaffensweise, 339-81.
1 2 1 See Konrad, Mozarts Schaffensweise, 367-69. The headings of Konrad’s
analysis of Mozart’s “Skizzenschrift” are “Ganzen- und Halbnoten” (whole and half
notes), “Viertelnoten” (quarter notes), “Achtelnoten” (eighth notes), “Sechzehntel- und
ZweiunddreiBigstelnoten” (sixteenth and thirty-second notes), “Akzidentien”
(accidentals), and “Pausen, Omamenten, Abbreviaturen, Verschleifungen” (rests,
ornaments, abbreviations, slurs). Many of the symbols that play a crucial role in the
analysis of most musical handwriting—clefs, time signatures, and so on—appear rarely
in Mozart’s sketches. Konrad’s analysis of Mozart’s Skizzenschrift is copiously
illustrated.
1 2 2 Douglas Porter Johnson, Beethoven’ s Early Sketches in the “ Fischhof
Miscellany, ” Berlin Autograph 28, Studies in Musicology, ed. George Buelow, vol. 22
(Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1980), here esp. Chpt. I, “Handwriting,” 25-64.
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223
E Paymer analyzes the various musical hands attributed to Pergolesi.1 2 3
Methodologically Brook and Paymer take their departure from Schneikert (they also later
cite Bengtsson and Danielson), focusing on eleven “primary characteristics” (which they
characterize as the “most distinctive calligraphic elements”), and fourteen secondary ones.
Although their method is not as rigorous as the one proposed here (neglecting, for
example, the concept of “system style,” discussed later on in this chapter, and also the
relative placement of musical symbols on staff lines), their identification of Pergolesi’s
hand is fully persuasive. Erich Duda’s recent attempt at a detailed study of Siissmayr’s
musical handwriting takes its departure from Ziffer, but is marred by so many
fundamental methodological flaws that it cannot be considered an adequate or reliable
treatment of its topic.1 2 4
As I pointed out in Chapter 1, the previous literature on Mozart’s copyists is
extremely thin, and next to nothing has been written on his Viennese copyists. Important
early work on Mozart’s Salzburg copyists was done by Walter Senn, who was able to
identify the handwriting of three of the most important copyists who worked for the
1 2 3 Barry S. Brook and Marvin E. Paymer, “The Pergolesi Hand: A Calligraphic
Study,” Notes 38, no. 3 (1982): 550-78.
1 2 4 Erich Duda, Das musikalische Werk Franz Xaver Siifimayrs, Schriftenreihe der
Intemationalen Stiftung Mozarteum, vol. 12, (Kassel: Barenreiter, 2000), here esp. 294-
332. This book is based on the author’s dissertation, “Datierung musikalischer Quellen
des 18. Jahrhunderts am Beispiel von Franz Xaver SiiBmayr” (Ph.D. diss.. University of
Vienna, 1998).
For a recent study of the musical handwriting of a group of composers and copyists
in 17th-century England, see Robert Shay and Robert Thompson, Purcell Manuscripts:
The Principal M usical Sources (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000). T Tie
authors include a brief discussion of the characteristics of late 17th-century English
“copperplate” italic textual handwriting (in effect, a “system” style, although the authors
do not use that term). They do not discuss 17th-century systems of musical handwriting,
nor do they show clearly how the identification of textual handwriting is related to the
identification of musical handwriting. Their analyses of musical handwriting focus on
individually characteristic symbols. Their descriptions of individual symbols are good,
but the authors fail to take into account the principle of unexplained differences.
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Mozart family in Salzburg.1 2 3 He named these copyists “A,” “B,” and “C.” Ernst
Hintermaier was later able to identify these three copyists as, respectively, Maximilian
Raab, Joseph Richard Estlinger, and Felix Hofstatter.1 2 6 More recently, Cliff Eisen has
been able to extend and refine our understanding of the handwritings of these men, to
identify many crucial sources written by them (and by one other still anonymous copyist
who worked for the Mozart family, whom Eisen calls “Salzburg 1”), and to show the
importance of these sources for the attribution, chronology, and text of Mozart’s
works.1 2 7 He has also shown how these sources can shed light on the development of
Mozart’s musical style and the specifics of Mozart’s performance practices. Although my
work on Viennese copyists was undertaken independently of Eisen’s work on Salzburg
copyists, my acquaintance with Eisen and his work provided a decisive impetus for my
concentration on Mozart’s copyists. Eisen’s influence, particularly in the close textual
reading of sources and the use of copyist manuscripts as evidence of performance
practice, will be evident throughout this dissertation. Eisen did not explicitly engage
questions of method in his analysis and identification of hands, although his method, like
that of Plath or Johnson, is sufficiently evident from his practice. Such methodological
questions were, in any case, probably not crucial in the domain covered by his study.
His study dealt with a quite restricted number of different hands, within the context of
a provincial town (Salzburg) in which the total number of active copyists probably
1 2 5 See esp. Walter Senn, “Die Mozart-Oberlieferung im Stift Heilig Kreuz zu
Augsburg,” in Neues Augsburger Mozartbuch, Zeitschrift des Historischen Vereins filr
Schwaben, vol. 62/63 (Augsburg: Buchhandlung M. Seitz, 1962), 333-68.
1 2 6 Ernst Hintermaier, “Die Salzburger Hofkapelle von 1700 bis 1806.
Organisation und Personal” (Ph.D. diss., University o f Salzburg, 1972), 91-93, 182-84,
and 333-34, cited in Cliff Eisen, “The Mozarts’ Salzburg Copyists: Aspects of
Attribution, Chronology, Text, Style, and Performance Practice,” in Mozart Studies, ed.
CUff Eisen (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 253-307.
1 2 7 Eisen, “The Mozarts’ Salzburg Copyists.”
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remained rather low. Vienna, on the other hand, was home to literally hundreds of
different music copyists over the course of the second half of the eighteenth century, and
questions of method are consequently crucial in any attempt to begin to come to grips with
these copyists and their hands.
As I have pointed out in Chapter 1, the only previous scholar to have attempted
descriptions of any of the Viennese copyists associated with Mozart was Andreas
Holschneider, in the critical report to his edition of Mozart’s arrangement of Handel’s
Messiah.1 2 6 Holschneider’s manner of presenting information about the hands of
individual copyists is highly reminiscent of Dadelsen’s tables, which may indeed have
served as Holschneider’s inspiration. Like Dadelsen, Holschneider places all treble clefs
on a single staff, all C clefs on another, and so on, identifying each staff with an
uppercase letter and each individual symbol by a number. Thus one may refer, for
example, to the bass clef “B 1 ” (which, as it happens, belongs to the hand of the copyist
I shall call Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1, discussed in Chapter 6). This manner of
presentation works well for Dadelsen, who is not attempting to describe individual hands,
but instead to demonstrate the range of variation in the formation of particular symbols.
Holschneider, in contrast, is attempting to describe particular hands, and this same
manner of presentation prevents the formation of a clear picture of any individual hand.
The methods of questioned-document examiners
I shall now describe in more detail the methods by which questioned-document
examiners analyze, describe, and identify handwriting. Questioned-document examiners
deal with a wide variety of forensic problems. They may, for example, be asked to
determine whether a particular signature has been forged, or to identify the handwriting in
128 A i'M A , X/28/1/2, Der Messias, critical report (Andreas Holschneider).
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an anonymous ransom note. They may also be required to determine whether or not
a document (such as a will) has been altered, and by whom.
Concern with forgery and the authenticity of documents can be traced back at least
to ancient Rome, and legal standards for the identification of handwriting are spelled out
as early as the Code o f Justinian}1 2 9 However, the modem discipline of handwriting
examination can trace its roots only to the mid-nineteenth century, and as Jeffery points
out, it did not really begin to come into its own until the Lindbergh kidnapping in 1932
and the subsequent trial of Bruno Richard Hauptman for that crime in 193S. A key piece
of evidence at Hauptman’s trial was a ransom note for $50,000 that had been left in the
Lindbergh nursery. Eight handwriting experts, including Albert S. Osborn, testified for
the prosecution that the handwriting in the note matched Hauptman’s beyond a reasonable
doubt; the prosecution called four additional handwriting experts during rebuttal who
testified to the same effect. The defense had similarly consulted eight handwriting experts
to prove the contrary, although ultimately only one of these testified. Largely on the basis
of the convincing testimony of the handwriting experts, Hauptman was convicted, and he
was executed in 1936.
Because the reliability of a handwriting examiner’s conclusions may be literally
a matter of life or death for the accused, questioned-document examiners have striven to
produce a meticulous and logically sound method for the investigation of handwriting.
Albert S. Osborn’s classic Questioned Documents, first published in 1929 and still in
1 2 9 For a brief and lively survey of the history of handwriting identification, see
Russell R. Bradford and Ralph B. Bradford, Introduction to Handwriting Examination
and Identification (Chicago: Nelson-Hall Publishers, 1992), 1-69, Chpt. 1, “A History of
Handwriting Examination.”
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print, remains a standard text in the field, supplemented by later works of Wilson
R. Harrison and others.1 3 0
Questioned-document examiners deal mainly with forgeries and anonymous or
disguised handwritings, whereas historians typically deal with a rather different set of
problems and conditions. For one thing, a historian cannot normally request additional
samples of handwriting. As Peter Jeffery explains:
It is not difficult to obtain an authentic handwriting sample of a modem
person’s handwriting, but there may be no unquestioned examples of
the handwriting of someone who lived centuries ago.1 3 1
The acquisition of “standard writings” (that is, writings known without a doubt to have
been written by a particular person) can be problematic in the case of persons long dead;
I shall consider this question in more detail later on in this chapter.
Like questioned-document examiners, historians occasionally deal with forgeries or
possible forgeries, but these are normally not their sole or even their main concern when
studying handwriting. Historians must often identify and match handwritings, as well as
attempt to date them and evaluate their authority (which is not at all the same thing as
determining their authenticity). This dissertation will, for the most part, not be concerned
with forgery or disguised handwriting. By and large, it will be concerned with the
1 3 0 See Osbom, Questioned Documents and Harrison, Suspect Documents. The
discussion of the methods of questioned-document examiners in Jeffery, “Cavalli,” is
based largely on Harrison. See also Ordway Hilton, Scientific Examination o f
Questioned Documents (Chicago: Callaghan & Company, 19S6). Bradford and
Bradford, Introduction to Handwriting Examination, contains some useful insights and
includes relatively up-to-date information on the technical aspects of handwriting
examination. It is perhaps less strong on methodology and the logic of handwriting
comparison. Another recent treatment of the topic is Edna W. Robertson, Fundamentals
o f Document Examination (Chicago: Nelson-Hall Publishers, 1991).
1 3 1 Jeffery, “Cavalli,” 54.
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identification of hands, in order to shed light on the provenance, date, and authority of
various manuscript sources of Mozart’s music.
In the following synopsis of the methods of questioned-document examiners,
I shall rely mainly on the writings of Osbom and Harrison, adding points from other
writers when these help to clarify or amplify particular points. I shall also refer to the
writings of Joe Nickell, whose particular interest in the authentication and forgery of
historical handwriting sheds light on the special problems of a historian who examines old
documents.
According to Harrison, a document examiner must be able: (1) to distinguish style
characteristics from personal characteristics; (2) to distinguish between natural and
disguised handwriting; (3) to allow for variation in handwriting; and (4) to “assess the
significance and consequently the evidential value of the characteristics his examination
has disclosed. This can best be acquired by the intensive study of handwriting
contemporary with that under examination.”1 3 2 As Nickell explains: “. . . the mere
demonstration of similarities between two handwritings is not of itself sufficient to prove
common authorship.”1 3 3 Similarities may arise merely because two different individuals
had learned the same style of handwriting.
Let us begin by positing four basic principles for the investigation of handwriting,
each of which will then be discussed in turn in greater detail:
1. “System” characteristics (or “style” characteristics) must be distinguished from
personal characteristics. System characteristics are those belonging to
a general system of writing used by many people at a particular time. System
characteristics cannot be taken as identifying, although they may be sufficient
proof that a particular writing was not written by a particular writer.
1 3 2 Harrison, Suspect Documents, 292.
1 3 3 Nickell, Detecting Forgery, 25.
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2. There must be a sufficient body of authenticated handwriting to compare with
the questioned writing to serve as a standard of comparison.
3. The amount and degree of variation in the handwriting must be taken into
account No two writings by the same person are exactly identical.
4. There can be no unexplained significant differences between the questioned
writing and the authenticated writing. In other words, a handwriting cannot
be identified merely on the basis o f shared characteristics.
System fatvle. cla««. group) vs. Individual (personal) characteristic*
Perhaps the most important skill required of anyone who examines handwriting,
musical or otherwise, is the ability to distinguish between the characteristics of
a particular system of handwriting and the characteristics of a particular individual. The
characteristics of a particular system cannot be taken as identifying a particular
individual’s hand:
The most common error of the unqualified examiner is to describe an
unusual characteristic as being individual when in fact it merely belongs
to a writing system outside the sphere of his experience.1 3 4
Handwriting examiners use a variety of terms to refer to the characteristics of these
handwriting styles: Osborn calls them “system” characteristics, whereas Ordway Hilton
uses the terms “group” or “class” characteristics. According to Hilton, style (or class)
characteristics “are those common to a number of writers and may result from such
influences as the writing system studied, family associations, trade training, or foreign
education .. .”1 3 5 Handwriting styles may vary by region and date. As I shall show,
a well-defined Viennese style is characteristic of the handwritings of many (although by
no means all) music copyists and composers who were educated in Vienna or worked
there in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
1 3 4 Hilton, Scientific Examination o f Questioned Documents, 142.
•3 3 Ibid.
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Questioned-document examiners sometimes speak of “copybook forms,” the forms
learned in school from manuals of penmanship. This usage can perhaps be extended to
refer to any codified and taught system of handwriting, whether or not it is described in
a published manual.
Os bom notes that while system characteristics are insufficient to prove the identity
of the writer of a particular specimen of handwriting, they may be sufficient to prove that
a handwriting is not genuine—in other words, that it is not by a particular writer.1 3 6 For
example, a particular sample of handwriting may show characteristics of a system or style
of writing that was not in use at the time the sample is alleged to have been written.
Standard*
In order to identify a specimen of unknown handwriting as having been written by
a particular individual, a document examiner must have access to a sufficient quantity of
“standard” writings with which to compare it Standard writings are specimens of
handwriting known beyond a reasonable doubt to have been written by a particular
person. As Nickell points out, a document examiner normally needs many examples of
a hand to serve as a standard:
. . . whereas a single fingerprint can be matched to another, in the case
of handwriting several known signatures are required for comparison
with the questioned one. This is because—although handwriting is
distinctively individual—it is never produced exactly the same twice.1 3 7
Thus care must also be taken to collect a sufficiently large and representative sample. As
Hilton cautions, standards
must be carefully selected so as to be truly representative. They must in
fact be a condensed and compact sample which contains a true cross-
1 3 6 Osborn, Questioned Documents, 170.
1 3 7 Nickell, Detecting Forgery, 30.
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section of the genuine or authentic material from the particular source.
Unless the standards fulfill these conditions they cannot be considered
adequate and accurate.1 3 8
Questioned-document examiners make use of two sorts of standard writing:
collected standards (documents reliably known to be in a particular hand, such as
witnessed signatures or personal documents), and requested standards (writings that the
document examiner has personally requested from the person whose hand is being
investigated).
It is impossible to request standard writings from a person who is dead, so
historians must normally rely on collected standards of various sorts. For his analysis of
Cavalli’s text handwriting, Peter Jeffery collected standards from wills, letters, and other
documents that were signed by Cavalli and which could reasonably be supposed to be in
his hand. In attempting to identify Cavalli’s musical hand, he then extrapolated from this
body of standard writing by looking for matches between the collected standards and the
text handwriting in manuscripts of Cavalli’s musical works. Where matches were found
and the text handwriting was consistently associated with a particular musical hand,
Jeffery was able persuasively to argue that this musical hand was also Cavalli’s.
However, it may not be possible to find any useful authenticated writings in the
hand of a particular person. For most anonymous music copyists, this will almost
certainly be so, because we do not, by definition, know who these copyists were, and
thus we have no easy way of searching for signed documents. For that reason,
a historian researching anonymous musical hands will need to develop a somewhat
different method for collecting standards of anonymous hands.
This can be done in the following way: the first instance of any handwriting that we
examine will be adopted as a provisional standard. For every subsequent handwriting we
1 3 8 Hilton, Scientific Examination o f Questioned Documents, 3.
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wish to compare with this original standard, the case for identity or non-identity will have
to be independently argued. When we feel that we have shown that a particular specimen
does indeed match the original standard, then that new handwriting itself becomes
a second standard. These judgments will need, of course, to be rechecked and re
evaluated repeatedly in the light of yet other new examples. What at first may have
seemed to be a close match may, in the light of further experience, be seen to vary in
subtle ways that were not originally evident, and a single hand may show evidence of
gradual change over time. Thus the body of standards for a particular hand will gradually
be winnowed and refined. However, the gradual accumulation of many examples of
handwriting, all of which have been compared independently with one another, will
eventually result in a strongly supported body of standard writings that can confidently be
said to have been written by a single individual.
Variation in handwriting
No two specimens of handwriting, even by the same person, can ever be exact
replicas of one another.1 3 9 In fact, the perfect identity of two specimens of handwriting
(such as two signatures) is taken as sufficient evidence that one of them is forged. As
Osborn writes: “Freedom, carelessness, speed, illegibility, and reasonable variation, are
always earmarks of genuineness.”1 4 0 Thus the handwriting examiner must decide
whether differences between two handwritings are due to normal variation within a single
hand or to different authorship, and whether, in the absence of consistent differences, the
resemblances are sufficient to show common authorship (can the resemblances have
occurred by chance?).
1 3 9 See Hilton, Scientific Examination o f Questioned Documents, 141, Figure 4, for
an extreme example of variation in the handwriting of a single person.
1 4 0 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 207.
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Concerning the range of variation in handwriting Osborn writes:
The qualities and characteristics of any handwriting as determined and
classified in a thorough examination, are, (1) permanent or fixed,
(2) unusual or common, (3) occasional and, (4) exceptional or
accidental. It therefore follows that a handwriting has a certain field of
possible and expected variation and without a sufficient quantity of
standard writing significant habits cannot be determined, and the value
and force of characteristics cannot be definitely known.1 4 1
The range and nature of variation can be characteristic of an individual hand. Os bom
writes: “Investigation discloses that even the variations in writing are habitual and
personal. . .”1 4 2 Similarly, according to Harrison: “... it is instructive to see how
variation in handwriting, which some critics mistakenly regard as fatal to any conclusion
of authorship, can actually be turned to good account as an extra identifying feature."1 4 3
Harrison points out that variation may be caused by differences in the speed of writing,
by changes in the health or age of the writer, or variation in the conditions of writing and
the state of the writing instrument.1 4 4
Reasoning about the identity or non-identity of compared handwriting*
Osborn gives an especially succinct description of the procedure by which
handwritings may be compared:
The principle underlying the identification of a handwriting is the same
as that by which anything with a great number of possible variations is
identified as belonging to a certain class or being a particular thing. It is
first necessary to establish the standard, and then identity or difference is
shown by a careful comparison of all elements, features or
characteristics which, all together, constitute the basis for a conclusion.
The force of the conclusion is naturally governed by the number and
1 4 1 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 37.
1 4 2 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 206.
1 4 3 Harrison, Suspect Documents, 301.
1 4 4 Harrison, Suspect Documents, 297.
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significance of the points under consideration, ranging from a mere
conjecture up to moral certainty.1 4 5
He goes on to point out that some characteristics “are vastly more significant that others as
indicating identity.”1 4 6 In fact, we may speak of significant similarities and significant
differences.
Osbom lays down three principles for reasoning about the identity or non-identity
of handwritings:
1. Those characteristics of a hand “which are most divergent from the
regular system or national features of a particular handwriting
under examination” are most likely to be identifying or
differentiating.
2. “... repeated characteristics which are inconspicuous... should
be given the most weight. . . ” Osbom reasons that these
inconspicuous characteristics are the ones most likely to be
unconscious, and thus more resistant to change or to conscious
attempts to modify one’s hand.
3. . ordinary system or national features and elements are not
alone sufficient [grounds] on which to base a judgment of identity
of two writings, although these characteristics necessarily have
value as evidence of identity.”1 4 7
He then goes on to say:
As in identifying a person... it always is the combination of particulars
that identifies, and necessarily the more numerous and unusual the
various elements and features the more certain the identity.1 4 8
The most important principle of reasoning about the identity or non-identity of two
handwritings is what I have called “the principle of unexplained differences”: in Osborn’s
1 4 5 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 225.
1 4 6 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 227.
1 4 7 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 250.
1 4 8 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 251.
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words, “there must not remain significant differences that cannot reasonably be
explained."1 4 9 Harrison states this principle even more strongly:
. . . whatever features two specimens of handwriting may have in
common, they cannot be considered to be of common authorship if they
display but a single consistent dissimilarity in any feature which is
fundamental to die structure of the handwriting, and whose presence is
not capable of reasonable explanation.1 5 0
As historians, we may wish to apply a somewhat more flexible standard. For a historian,
it is important to recognize that two specimens of handwriting that exhibit unexplained
significant differences may nevertheless be of common authorship. In this regard,
a historian and an expert witness will differ in their emphases: a historian will stress that
the possibility of identity is still open, whereas the expert witness will stress that identity
cannot be proved.
If the methods oudined here are followed rigorously, the conclusions derived from
them can be taken as solidly established. As Harrison writes:
. . . in view of [a developed handwriting’s] complexity, the probability
of any two persons having handwritings which are so similar that the
presence of one or more consistent dissimilarities cannot be
demonstrated, is extremely small.1 5 1
Most authorities agree that it is extremely difficult to disguise handwriting or to forge
someone else’s handwriting in such a way as to be undetectable to an experienced
examiner.
1 4 9 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 245
1 5 0 Harrison, Suspect Documents, 343.
1 5 1 Harrison, Suspect Documents, 342.
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In Osborn’s opinion, errors in reasoning about the identity or non-identity of two
specimens of handwriting are most often due to the failure to distinguish between system
characteristics and individual characteristics:
Errors in identification of handwriting, as emphasized in other
connections, are perhaps most frequently made by mistaking the system
qualities, or the common national features, for individual characteristics
and basing a conclusion thereon. These general features necessarily
often have force as pointing to a writer of a particular class but not by
them alone to an individual of that class, and this applies to all general
characteristics that are the outgrowth of system, nationality, or
occupation.1 5 2
Because of the inherent variation in handwriting, early writers on forensic
handwriting identification generally agreed on the impracticality of attempting to use exact
mathematical procedures for determining the identity or non-identity of specimens of
handwriting.1 5 3 However, recent work in computer science, particularly concerning on
line signature verification, has had promising results.1 5 4 Whether these techniques can be
usefully and practically extended to handwriting in general or to musical handwriting
remains to be seen.
The elements of handwriting
How does one go about analyzing and recording the characteristics of a particular
specimen of handwriting, and what characteristics or elements need to be examined?
1 5 2 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 258.
1 5 3 See, for example, Hilton, Scientific Examination o f Questioned Documents, 8.
Hilton points out that the interdependence of writing habits works against the application
of the techniques of mathematical probability, which require factors to be independent.
Osbom also briefly discusses the application of probabilistic techniques to handwriting
identification; see Osbom, Questioned Documents, 226.
1 5 4 For one approach, and references to further recent technical literature, see
Vishvjit S. Naiwa, “Automatic On-Line Signature Verification,” Proceedings o f the IEEE
85, no. 2 (1997): 215-39.
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Osborn gives the most detailed and exhaustive treatment of any of the writers considered
here of the points bearing on the examination and comparison of handwriting, and I shall
base my summary on his discussion, drawing occasionally on Nickell and other writers to
amplify particular points.1 3 3
Osbom first discusses the general movement and manner of writing, the quality of
line, and alignment1 3 6 The movements of writing may be made with the finger, hand,
forearm, or the entire arm, each alone or in combination. The overall appearance of
a specimen of handwriting depends closely on the manner in which the movements of
writing are made, as well as on the speed of the movement and its “quality.” The last of
these concepts is the most subjective and the least precisely defined, and Osborn’s
vocabulary is perhaps unnecessarily judgmental. However, his distinctions are useful.
He writes:
. . . five classes [of the quality of movement] can readily be
distinguished: (1) clumsy, illiterate and halting; (2) hesitating and painful
through weakness or disease; (3) nervous and irregular, (4) strong,
heavy, forceful; (5) smooth, flowing and rapid.1 3 7
The speed of writing may be slow, deliberate, average, or rapid.
Osbom gives particular attention to “tremor.”1 3 8 He identifies several possible
causes of tremor age, infirmity, weakness, nervousness, illiteracy, and fraud. The
tremor of fraud or forgery is caused by a slow and deliberate attempt to copy handwriting
that was originally made quickly and fluently. This type of tremor will seldom play a role
1 3 3 See Osbom, Questioned Documents, esp. Chpts. 8-12, pp. 97-204. On pp.
288-92, Osbom gives a useful numbered list of 76 points to be considered in any
handwriting examination. See also Nickell, Detecting Forgery, 35-42.
1 3 6 Osbom, Questioned Documents, Chpt. 8,97-118.
1 3 7 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 105. Osbom gives examples of each of these
five types in his Figure 50.
1 3 8 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 110-15.
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in our discussion of Mozart’s Viennese copyists, but it is crucial to the detection of
forgery.
The other causes of tremor, however, may play a significant role in the study of
musical handwriting and music copyists. In particular, the tremor of age may help to
distinguish the relative chronology of several manuscripts written by the same hand, and
the tremor of “illiteracy” (which, from a musical standpoint, can more usefully be
described as the tremor of youth or amateurism) may help distinguish between
manuscripts written by a student or amateur, and those written by a professional musician
or music copyist.
Of alignment, Osbom writes:
Alignment in writing, as in printing, is the relation of the successive
characters of a word, signature, or line of writing, to an actual or
imaginary base line. Differences and deviations in alignment are due
mainly to differences in movement and especially to the position of the
writing arm in reladon to the line of writing. In many writings the
quality of alignment is a characteristic of much significance and shows
many unconscious, individual habits and should always be carefully
considered in examining writing.1 5 9
Alignment plays a lesser role in the identification of musical handwriting, because the
“baseline” is explicit, in the form of staff lines, and the placement of many musical
symbols (notes, rests, accidentals, and to a lesser extent clefs) in relation to those lines is
not arbitrary, but rather determines their semantic content. Thus the range of personal
variation in the placement of many musical symbols relative to a base line is relatively
restricted and consequently less distinctive. However, the relation of the handwriting of
dynamic markings, titles, instrumental designations, and vocal texts relative to an
imaginary baseline may help characterize the textual hand of a particular music copyist,
and the placement of time signatures in relation to the staff may also be distinctive.
1 5 9 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 115.
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Osbom next discusses pen position, pen-pressure, and shading. According to
Osbom, pen position “can positively be determined from the location of the emphasis or
shading”1 6 0 In fact, as he points out, “[t]he manner of holding the pen is one of the most
fixed of writing habits.”1 6 1 Three variables influence the quality of a line drawn with
a nib pen: (1) the angle of the pen to the surface of the paper, which may vary from
almost vertical to as little as 15° to 20° above the horizontal; (2) the angle of the pen to the
direction of writing, which may vary up to 90°, from a position in which the pen-holder
or quill points toward the writer to one in which it points in the direction of writing; and
(3) the uniformity of pressure on the two points of the nib, which may vary according to
whether the pressure is greater on the left or right point, or is relatively uniform on
both.1 6 2
Osbom provides a number of useful illustrations o f pen position and its influence
on the quality of line and shading. However, his discussion of the characteristics of nib-
pen writing is based largely on the behavior of steel pens. Quill pens were rare by the
1920s when Osbom was writing, and he discusses them only relatively briefly, in his
Chapter 11, “Writing Instruments.”1 6 3 His general observations about pen position are as
valid for quills as they are for steel pens, but the greater flexibility of a quill has a strong
influence on the character and shading of strokes made with i t In particular, all
downward strokes made with a quill will be shaded to some degree, and a much wider
variety of shading is possible with a quill than with a steel pen, including, quite typically,
1 6 0 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 119.
1 6 1 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 120.
1 6 2 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 121-22.
1 6 3 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 151-66, here esp. 159-61.
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wide shading on lateral strokes and flourishes.1 6 4 Mozart’s lateral and oblique strokes
tend to be strongly shaded, which may suggest that he held his quill inclined to the right
Osbom next deals with the arrangement size, proportion, spacing, and slant of
writing. He lists sixteen features of arrangement not all of them applicable to music (for
example, the arrangement of addresses on envelopes). However, most of his points can
be applied to musical handwriting, to text handwriting on musical title pages, or to the
texts of vocal music. The general spacing of a specimen of handwriting—the placement
of text or musical notation with respect to a real or imaginary baseline—is a potentially
significant characteristic of an individual hand, as are the margins around the writing. In
musical sources, we should pay particular attention to the layout of title pages, and to the
placement of titles, tempos, and attributions on scores and parts. The relative size of the
elements of a musical handwriting (such as, for example, the relative size of the
noteheads), and the slant of vertical strokes (such as bar lines and stems) may also
potentially be significant or identifying.
Other characteristics that need to be examined include the ratio of tall characters or
symbols to short ones; connecting strokes (particularly in text handwriting, but also in
some musical symbols, such as clefs and accidentals); and various aspects of what might
be called “scribal habit”1 6 5 A particular writer may have certain peculiar (and thus
potentially identifying) habits of spelling, punctuation, grammar, or phraseology.
1 6 4 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 159-60.
1651 have borrowed the term “scribal habit” from Stanley Boorman, “Notational
Spelling and Scribal Habit” in Datierung und Filiation von Musikhandschriften der
Josquin-Zeit, vol. 2 of Quellenstudien zur Musik der Renaissance, ed. Ludwig Finscher,
Wolfenbiitteler Forschungen, vol. 26 (Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1983), 65-109.
See also in the same volume Howard M. Brown, “In Alamire’s Workshop: Notes on
Scribal Practice in the Early Sixteenth Century,” 15-63.
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Analogous habits in musical handwriting may include the notation of articulation (dots
versus strokes), the notation of trills, the arrangement of key signatures, and so on.
Next Osbom gives a detailed treatment of writing systems and their relevance to the
identification and examination of handwriting. He writes:
The framework or general character of the handwriting of the average
writer is of the style or design acquired in youth and in general use
during the formative period of life. This style usually is afterwards
greatly modified by individual taste, degree of manual dexterity,
occupation, and environment, but through all these changes the original
system will to some extent visibly protrude, as a foreign accent will
show in speech.1 6 6
It is also essential, of course, to make a careful analysis of the forms or shapes of
the various symbols in a particular handwriting, whether they be cursive letters, printed
letters, numerals, musical symbols, or any other type of character or mark. Harrison and
Osbom both point to the benefits of making freehand sketches of letter forms, which help
the examiner retain a clear mental picture and muscular image of the forms.1 6 7 In
examining symbols and letters, special care must be taken to record the subtle details that
will distinguish between characters made using the same system of handwriting, but by
different hands.
Nickell provides several useful terms for describing the elements of letter forms,
and I shall adapt several of these for describing musical handwriting:1 6 8
initial stroke
terminal stroke
descender
ascender
shaded downstroke
1 6 6 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 168.
1 6 7 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 400. See also Harrison, Suspect Documents,
299.
1 6 8 Nickell, Detecting Forgery, 36-38. Nickell’s Figure 2.5 illustrates these terms
using a facsimile of John Hancock’s signature.
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hairline upstroke
retrace
eyelet
shank
connector
pen lift
flourish
These terms are mostly self explanatory. “Retrace” refers to the movement of the writing
implement back over a line that has already been made, in characters such as a lowercase
“h,” where the writer normally retraces part of the initial downward stroke of the letter in
order to prepare to draw the hump to the right. An “eyelet” is a very small loop.
A “shank” is one of the principal descending strokes of the body of a letter, such as an
“H” (I shall more often use the term “stem”).
At the end of his comprehensive discussion (nearly 300 pages) of the procedures,
methods, and logic of handwriting identification, Osbom gives a useful and succinct
summary, which is worth quoting here in full:
Identity is proved when two handwritings both contain a sufficient
number of significant characteristics, qualities and elements so that it is
unreasonable to say that they would all accidentally coincide in two
different handwritings.
Identity is not proved by the presence of only a few common or
conventional forms.
Identity is not proved by the presence of only system or national
qualities or characteristics.
Identity is not proved by the presence of a few common abbreviated or
developed forms and qualities.
Errors are due to: (1) Basing opinion on inadequate amount of disputed
writing; (2) inadequate amount of standard writing; (3) basing
conclusion on common qualities alone; (4) basing conclusion on system
or national characteristics; (5) basing conclusion partly on outside facts
or statements of interested party; (6) ignoring differences in the writings;
(7) interpreting all differences as disguises; (8) allowing prejudice,
sympathy or antipathy to affect a conclusion; (9) haste or superficial
examination; (10) inability to weigh and interpret characteristics or
qualities; (11) basing opinion on undeveloped writing from school
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teachers or pupils or young writers; (12) the attempt to identify the actual
writer of a forged signature that is a simulated or traced writing.1 6 9
One can find examples of nearly every one of these errors in previous scholarly work on
musical handwriting.
An example
The failure to distinguish between system and individual characteristics, and the
failure to recognize other basic principles of handwriting comparison, such as the
principle of unexplained differences, has led more than one music historian into error. In
an article published in 1989, for example, Martin Staehelin discusses several newly
uncovered manuscript sources of Mozart’s music, including a score copy, belonging to
the musikwissenschaftliches Seminar at the University of Gbttingen, of Mozart’s vocal
quartet “Dite almeno, in che mancai,” K. 479, composed in 1785 for a Viennese pasticcio
based on Bianchi’s La villanella rapita. In the same article, Staehelin discusses an
incomplete score copy, belonging to the Beethoven-Archiv in Bonn, of Mozart’s Don
Giovanni.1 7 0
Staehelin claims that the Gottingen copy of K. 479 comes from the “Wiener
Kopistenbureau” of Wenzel Sukowaty. As evidence for this claim, he cites the score’s
supposed resemblance in layout, handwriting, and contents to a second score copy of
K. 479 that bears Sukowaty’s name and address; “Wienn zu haben bey Wenzel
Sukovaty Hof Theatral Copist am Peters Platz in Mazischen HauB N:° 554. in Hof in 3:“"
1 6 9 Osbom, Questioned Documents, 388.
1 7 0 Martin Staehelin, “Ubersehenes zur Mozart-Uberlieferung,” in Quaestiones in
musica. Festschrift fu r Franz Krautwurst zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Friedhelm Brusniak
and Horst Leuchtmann (Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1989), 591-607, here esp. 593-98.
The shelf mark of the Don Giovanni score is An 313 527 (Inv 154). The score includes
only a portion of the first act and includes a false owner’s mark “L. v. Beethoven.”
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Stock.” 1 7 1 This second score belongs to the Mozaiteum in Salzburg, and derives from
the estate of Mozart’s son, Franz Xaver (Wolfgang Jr.).1 7 2 Staehelin provides no
facsimile of either manuscript, so it is impossible, on the basis of the evidence that he
provides, to evaluate his claim that the hands are identical. However, the Salzburg
manuscript, which I have examined, appears to have been written by at least three
different hands, something Staehelin does not mention.
To be fair, it should be pointed out that Staehelin does not state that any particular
hand in the Gottingen copy matches any particular hand in the Salzburg one. What he
says is this: “Judging by the layout, handwriting, and contents, the Gottingen and the
Salzburg manuscripts agree so extensively, that they must—in spite of some
differences—stem from the same manufacturing firm.”1 7 3 There is nothing inherently
1 7 1 For facsimiles of the title page and fust page of this score, see Figures 9.6 and
9.7.
1 7 2 Staehelin, “Gbersehenes,” S94. Staehelin does not give a shelf marie for the
Salzburg manuscript, but instead mentions merely that it comes from the estate of
Mozart’s son. He refers the reader to the entry for K. 479 in K6, where, however, the
shelf marie is likewise omitted. The manuscript in question is A-Sm, M. N. S3 (d).
I shall discuss this manuscript in more detail in Chpt. 9. My transcription of Sukowaty’s
address (which matches Staehelin’s) differs in several details from the one given in K6.
1 7 3 Staehelin, “Gbersehenes,” 594. “Nach Anlage, Schrift und Inhalt stimmen die
GOttinger und die Salzburger Manuskripte so weitgehend (iberein, dafi sie—trotz einiger
Unterschiede—auf dieselbe HersteUerfirma zurUckgehen mtissen.” Staehelin’s note 8,
appended to the phrase “trotz einiger Unterschiede,” reads as follows: “Die Salzburger
Abschrift folgt in der Verteilung der Takte auf die Seiten zun&hst der Disposition der
GOttinger Kopie, gewinnt aber dann durch eine um ein Geringes gedrSngtere
Niederschrift allmkhlich immer mehr Raum, so dafi sie ingesamt nur 30 statt 32 Blatter
umfafit. Der Notenschreiber ist sicher derselbe, aber seine Schrift erscheint in der
Salzburger Kopie ‘modemer,’ ich vermute, dafi diese einige Jahre jUnger ist als das
GOttinger Manuskript” (“The Salzburg manuscript at first follows the layout of the
Gottingen copy in the distribution of measures onto pages, but then gradually gains more
and more room through a slightly more crowded handwriting, so that it contains only 30
instead of 32 leaves. The copyist is certainly the same, but his hand appears ’more
modem’ in the Salzburg copy; I would guess that the latter is a few years later than the
Gottingen manuscript”). However, the Salzburg copy may itself be quite early: the
watermark in the paper on which it is written matches the design of Tyson 87, found in
a paper-type that Mozart used only in Aug 1786 (K. 479 was completed in Nov 1785;
“Tyson 8T’ refers to watermark 87 in Tyson, Wasserzeichen-Katalog). However, I have
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implausible about this line of argument (for such agreement could, in fact, be evidence
that the manuscripts share a common provenance). The problem is the certainty with
which the conclusions are drawn. The problem, in short, is the word “must”—for
Staehelin’s argument surely does not imply that the two manuscripts must necessarily
have been prepared by the same copying house.
Staehelin goes on to state that “[wjith the Gottingen discovery, the number of
Sukowaty copies from Mozartean Vorlagen has again increased.. .”1 7 4 He seems to leap
here from claiming that the Gdttingen manuscript comes from Sukowaty’s shop to the
implication that the manuscript might have been copied horn Mozart’s autograph
(although the phrase “Mozartean Vorlagen” is admittedly and perhaps intentionally
vague). If such a claim were true, the Gottingen manuscript would indeed need to be
regarded as a potentially important textual source (although, in this case, perhaps not
a crucial one, since the autograph of K. 479 survives). However, Staehelin presents no
evidence to support a claim of derivation from Mozart’s autograph or any other source
close to Mozart, and it is far from justified on the basis of the evidence that he provides.
It is important to understand precisely what I am and am not claiming here: I am not
saying that Staehelin is wrong, and, in particular, I am not denying that the Gdttingen
copy is from Sukowaty’s “shop.” It may well be (I have not seen it). The crucial point is
that Staehelin provides insufficient evidence for the claim to be decided one way or the
as of this writing been unable to make a detailed comparison of the watermarks. Staehelin
does not give sufficient information about the paper of the Gottingen copy to hazard a
guess about the date; he refers merely to the “in Wien damals haufig verwendeten REAL-
Halbmonde-Papier” (“REAL-halfimoon paper frequently used in Vienna at that time”;
“Obersehenes,” 594).
1 7 4 Staehelin, “Ubersehenes,” 594. “Mit dem Gottinger Fund vergroBert sich die
Zahl der Sukowaty-Abschriften von Mozartschen Vorlagen neuerdings ...”
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246
other, without examining the manuscript in person, and the flaws in his argument are
such that one cannot take it on faith.
In fact, early Viennese score copies of K. 479 are by no means rare, and include
others from Sukowaty’s shop. Most importantly, the Viennese court theater’s original
performing score of K. 479 (as well as the original performing score of its companion
piece, the trio “Mandina amabile,” K. 480) is preserved in the theater’s score of La
villanella rapita.1 1 5 Although the score as a whole does not bear Sukowaty’s imprint, the
available evidence—the hands in which it is written, the paper upon which it is written,
the provenance of the manuscript (from the archives of the Kamtnertortheater), and
supporting documentary evidence from the archives of the court theater—all point to the
conclusion that this is the original performing scone copied under Sukowaty’s direction
for use in the court theater in 1785. These scores of K. 479 and K. 480 were, then,
almost certainly copied from Mozart’s autographs, and they are therefore the most
important secondary sources for both works. These scores very likely served as the
Vorlagen for any further copies of K. 479 and K. 480 produced by Sukowaty. Neither
copy is mentioned in any edition of the Kdchel catalogue, nor are they mentioned in the
preface to the editions of K. 479 and K. 480 in the Neue Momrt-kmga.be (both scores
will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 9).
The original performing score of K. 479 appears to have been written by a hand that
figures prominently in material produced in the court theater around this time, which
I shall call Sukowaty la (see Chapter 9 and Appendix D). As it happens, the first
gathering of the Salzburg score of K. 479 is also written by this same copyist. A third
1 7 5 A-Wn, KT 467, a score in four volumes. K. 479 is written on the sixth and
seventh gatherings of volume 3, and K. 480 on the last three gatherings of volume 1 (see
the discussion of this source in Chpt. 9).
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Sukowaty score of K. 479, deriving from the collection of the imperial court and now in
the possession of the Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek, is identical in layout and
apparently also in its readings to the performing score.1 7 6 This score is written by yet
another hand found in many Sukowaty copies from around this time, which I call
Viennese Mozart-Copyist 4a. The watermark in the paper upon which the score is written
appears to be an exact match with Tyson 80, a watermark also found in paper which
Mozart himself began to use by the end of 1785.
This does not exhaust the interesting manuscripts of K. 479. The archive of the
Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Vienna preserves two score copies of the quartet.1 7 7
One of these almost certainly comes from the shop of Johann Traeg: the title page bears
the number “| j . ” corresponding to an entry under that number in Johann Traeg’s
catalogue of 1799 reading “11 [Mozart] Terzetto poi Quart, (La Villanella / rapita)
.......................6 [fl ] .”1 7 8 The title page of the Traeg score shares a misreading with the
Salzburg and the Gottingen scores of K. 479, and also with the Viennese score from the
collection of the imperial court: all four give the title incorrectly as “Dite almeno, in che
maniera” (recte “mancai”), suggesting descent from a common Vorlage, or (perhaps less
likely) that one of the four may be the Vorlage for the others.1 7 9
1 7 6 A-Wn, S. m. 4162. For more on this score, see Chpt. 9.
1 7 7 The scores are A-Wgm, V I7349 (Q 3774) and V I7349 (Q 7380).
1 7 8 Traeg 1799,213. The catalogue number ll/3 5 corresponds to item 11 in section
35, “Itaiienische deutsche und franzosische Arien Duetten Terzerten, mit Begleitung &c”
of Part II, “Theatral= und Sing=Musik.” For more on the organization of the Traeg
catalogue, and on Traeg’s Mozart copies, see Chpt. 7. The Wgm copy of K. 479 bears
the price “4 f. 30 [kr].”
1 7 9 The Traeg copy gives “maniera,” with a grave accent on the “a.” The
misreading “in che maniera” also appears in Lorenz Lausch’s advertisement in the Wiener
Zeitung on 8 Feb 1786; see Deutsch, Dokumente, 231.
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248
The archive of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde preserves yet another score copy
of K. 479, this one from the collection of Aloys Fuchs.1 8 0 At the head of the first page of
the score (there is no title page) this copy bears the annotation “Mad: Mozart,” as well as
several other annotations regarding dates of rehearsals and performances. Remarkably
enough, neither copy of K. 479 in the archive of the Gesellschaft der Musikfieunde is
listed in the sixth edition of the Kdchel catalogue.1 8 1
Another score copy of K. 479, in the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin, is written in the
hand of one of the most important of all Viennese Mozart copyists, one who was closely
associated with Mozart in the 1780s and probably even worked for him.1 8 2 I call this
copyist Viennese Mozart-Copyist I (see Chapter 6). The score in the hand of Viennese
Mozart-Copyist I is written on paper with a watermark that closely matches Tyson 83,
found in the Atwood studies from 1786. Although this copy seems to be a relatively poor
textual source (at any rate, its articulations and dynamics deviate considerably from the
edition of this quartet in the Neue Mozart-Ausgabe), it is nonetheless of interest merely
because of its provenance and possible early date. It is likewise missing from the Kochel
catalogue.
Thus early Viennese copies of K. 479 are by no means unusual. However, it is
likely that only one of them, the original performing score of the court theater, was based
directly on Mozart’s autograph. The copy discussed by Staehelin is at best merely
a secondary copy, not without interest, but only one of many such copies.
1 8 0 A-Wgm, VI7349 (Q 7380). The watermark (a single man-in-the-moon,
countered by a double-bordered five-pointed star) suggests a Czech provenance, although
the hand has several Viennese characteristics.
1 8 1 K6 does list the Salzburg copy and the separate Viennese score copy (A-Wn,
S. m. 4162), although it says nothing about the provenance of the latter.
1 8 2 D-B, Mus. ms. 15158/2.
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Staehelin goes on to describe an incomplete score copy of Don Giovanni in the
Beethoven-Archiv in Bonn. Here he claims that “the manuscript is notated in brown ink
by the same professional hand from the Viennese bureau of Wenzel Sukowaty already
mentioned above.”1 8 3 Although the antecedent of the noun phrase “the same professional
hand” is not entirely clear, Staehelin seems to be claiming that the Bonn Don Giovanni,
and the Salzburg and Gottingen scores of the quartet “Dite almeno” are all in the same
hand. This is certainly not true.
Staehelin then states that the Bonn score was written “by the same copyist as the
Don Giovanni copy that Christof Bitter found several years ago in the Osterreichische
Nationalbibliothek and interpreted as the foundation for the text of the so-called Viennese
version of Don Giovanni of 1788.” 1 8 4 He makes his case for this identification
ostensively, by pointing to facsimiles of the title pages (his Figures la and lb), and the
first pages of the overture in both scores (his Figures 2a and 2b).1 8 5
The title pages of the two scores are, indeed, identical in layout, and nearly identical
in text. The title page of the score in the Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek reads:
1 8 3 Staehelin, “Obersehenes,” 595. “Das Manuskript ist von derselben
professionellen Hand des oben schon genannten Wiener Bureaus Wenzel Sukowatys in
brauner Tinte notiert”
1 8 4 Staehelin, “Ubersehenes,” 597. “... das Bonner Manuskript ist namlich vom
selben Kopisten niedergeschrieben worden, wie jene ‘Don Giovanni’-Abschrift, die
Christof Bitter vor mehreren Jahren in der Osterreichischen Nationalbibliothek in Wien
gefunden und als die Textgrundlage der sogenannten Wiener Fassung des ‘Don
Giovanni’ von 1788 gedeutet hat.” The reference is to Christof Bitter, “Don Giovanni in
Wien 1788,” in Mozart-Jahrbuch 1959 (Salzburg, 1960). The Viennese score, A-Wn,
OA 361, will be discussed in detail below in Chpt. 9. I shall call this score the
“performing score.” Contrary to Staehelin’s implication, OA 361 was copied by several
different hands.
1 8 5 The facsimiles are found in Staehelin, “Ubersehenes,” 602-5.
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250
n
Dissoluto punito
osia
D Don Giovanni
Dramma giocoso in due Atd
Rappresentato nel Teatro di Corte a Vienna L’ Anno 1788.
La Musica e del Sig: Wolfgango Am: Mozzart
Maestro di Capella all’attual Servizio della Corte Imperiale
The title page of the Bonn score reads identically, with the same words appearing on the
same lines. The only differences are minor ones of spelling, abbreviation, or
capitalization: the Bonn score gives “Dram[m]a” (with a macron over the single “m”
signifying a double letter), “Due” (with an uppercase “D”), “Sig:"” (instead of the simpler
abbreviation on the Vienna score), and “Mozart” (with a single “z”). The handwritings of
the two title pages are also very similar—but care must be taken here to distinguish
between system and personal characteristics. Both title pages use a Viennese version of
what might be called “title-page italic.” The general forms of the upper- and lowercase
letters on these pages are mostly forms that occur on virtually every Viennese title page of
this period. Moreover, when the characters on both title pages are examined closely, they
show numerous and potentially significant differences: for example, the lower loop of the
uppercase “I” in the handwriting of the Bonn score descends consistently below the
baseline (there are three examples in the title, twice in the word “II,” and once in
“Imperiale”).1 8 6 On the title page of the Vienna score, in contrast, the bottom of the
uppercase “I” reaches only to the baseline. In the uppercase “G” in “Giovanni” on the
title page of the Vienna score, the lower part of the upper C-like loop rests on a line
roughly equivalent to the top of the lowercase letters, and the descending J-like stroke
rests more or less on the baseline. In the Bonn score, the C loop of the uppercase “G”
1 8 6 The “baseline” is “an actual or imaginary line on which the handwriting rests”
(Nickell, Detecting Forgery, 40).
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rests on the baseline, and the J stroke descends well below it Close inspection reveals
many more potentially significant differences of this sort Therefore, it cannot be claimed
that the title pages were written by the same hand, although it remains entirely reasonable
to hypothesize that the title pages stem from the same copying establishment (in this case,
probably Sukowaty’s), and that one of the two may have been the Vorlage for the other,
or that both may have been based on a common Vorlage.
The first page of the overture in each score is likewise laid out identically. Both
scores are arranged in Mozart’s normal, but somewhat unusual layout, with the violins
and violas above the winds, suggesting derivation from Mozart’s autograph. Both pages
contain the first six bars of the overture. Spellings of instrument names are identical on
both, and the detailed readings of the musical text are likewise identical. The
handwritings on the two pages are indeed similar in appearance, but mainly at the level o f
system characteristics: both use Viennese “title-page italic” for the names of the
instruments and for the title “Sinfonia,” and both use what we might call “eighteenth-
century Viennese professional musical copyist hand” for the music.
However, at the level of detailed characteristics, the textual and musical symbols of
the two handwritings differ at almost every significant point of comparison. I shall
discuss just two of these: the treble clef and the symbol for cut time.
On the first page of the overture in the Bonn score, the “stem” of the treble clef (that
is, the central descending vertical stroke) is relatively straight, reaching from just above
the top line of the staff to the bottom line of the staff, occasionally descending just beyond
it This stem usually reaches or descends just beyond the lower curve of the clef. The
curve of the clef usually extends upward toward the G line and then back to the left,
normally almost reaching or even crossing the central vertical line.
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252
In the handwriting of the Vienna score, on the other hand, the stem reaches from
just above the top of the staff down to the third or fourth line (but never to the bottom
line), with a pronounced leftward “hook” at the lowest point of the line. The lower curve
of the clef is much larger than that in the treble clefs of the Bonn score, and there is
consistently a noticeable gap between the end of the curve and the stem. These
unexplained and significant differences between the treble clefs in the two sources would,
in themselves, be sufficient to preclude a judgement of identity.
Similarly, the symbols for cut time also show consistent and significant differences
between the two handwritings. In the Bonn score, the “C” is relatively narrow, and
almost always confined between the second and fourth lines of the staff. The “cut” line is
a simple vertical stroke. In the Vienna score, on the other hand, the “C” is consistently
wider, reaching from the second line to the bottom line of the staff. The “cut” line is
decorated with a small rightward facing “flag” at the top, and a small stroke across its
center. As with the title pages, examples of such significant differences could be
multiplied almost indefinitely.
In fact, these two handwritings belong to two different, readily identifiable
copyists, both of whom were associated with Sukowaty’s shop in the 1780s. The first
page of the overture of the Bonn score of Don Giovanni is very likely written by a copyist
who appears elsewhere in the Vienna score, although not in the overture.1 8 7 I shall call
this copyist Sukowaty 10 (see Chapter 9 and Appendix D). The first page of the overture
of the Vienna score, on the other hand, is written by a copyist who appears in several
other sources associated with Sukowaty’s shop from around this same time, including the
original orchestral parts for the first Viennese production Don Giovanni, and signed
1 8 7 Specifically, this hand appears in the first two numbers of volume 2 of the
Vienna score, containing numbers 5 and 6.
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Sukowaty keyboard scores of Salieri’s Axur and Martin y Soler’s L ’ arbore di Diana.m
I shall refer to this copyist as Sukowaty 2 (see Chapter 9 and Appendix D).
Thus both the Vienna and Bonn scores (the first certainly and the second almost
certainly) derive from Sukowaty’s shop. Staehelin seems to imply that Mozart might
have had something to do with the Bonn copy.1 8 9 This is extremely unlikely. The Bonn
score is almost certainly a commercial score from Sukowaty’s shop, based directly on the
Viennese performing score (a manuscript over which Mozart almost certainly had no
control). As Staehelin himself points out, sections marked to be cut in the Vienna score
are simply missing from the Bonn score (for example, measures 78-85 of Zerlina’s aria
No. 12), strongly suggesting that the former was the direct or indirect Vorlage for the
latter. As we shall see, the use of a performing score as the Vorlage for commercially
distributed scores is entirely in line with Sukowaty’s normal operating procedure: most,
if not all of Sukowaty’s secondary and commercial copies of operas performed in Vienna
are based on the original performing scores that Sukowaty himself had prepared for use in
the Viennese court theaters.
That the Bonn score is a copy of a copy does not imply that it is worthless as
a textual source. In any case, Staehelin’s mistaken identifications of the hands in the
1 8 8 On the original parts for Don Giovanni, see Chpt. 9. The keyboard score of
Axur is A-Wgm, IV 7158 (Q 1996), where the copyist under discussion is responsible
for No. 5 and part of No. 12. The keyboard score of Diana is A-Wgm, IV 3919
(Q 1595), where the copyist under discussion is responsible for an insertion in No. 5,
and for No. 12. This hand also occurs in parts for Mozart’s concert aria K. 416 that may
have belonged to Mozart (see Chpt 8), and may be equivalent to a hand in the original
orchestral parts for Le nozze di Figaro (see Chpt 9).
1 8 9 Staehelin, “Obersehenes,” 597. “. . . die geradezu modellhafte Gestaltung
zweier Abschriften durch [einen] Berufskopisten zwingt zur Vermutung, daB es wohl
nicht einmal bei nur zwei Exemplaren geblieben sein und daB Mozart die Anfertigung
sogar weiterer Kopien durchaus ermOglicht haben kbnnte, jedenfalls nicht abgewehrt
hatte” (“the virtually model-like formation of two copies by a professional copyist forces
us to suppose that there were not merely two such copies, and that Mozart might well
even have facilitated additional copies, or in any case not tried to prevent them”).
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254
sources for Don Giovanni and K. 479 do litde harm, apart from the possibility that they
may be reproduced in subsequent secondary literature or used to make judgements about
the stemmatic relationships between texts for the purposes of making editions. For
Staehelin is surely right (although more or less accidentally so) that all four sources that
he discusses were prepared under Sukowaty’s direction, probably during Mozart’s
lifetime.1 9 0
A method for the Identification of musical handwriting
As I have already pointed out, the goals (and thus the methods) of forensic
handwriting examination differ in significant ways from the goals of historical
handwriting examination. The forensic examiner of a questioned document is normally
intent on proving beyond a reasonable doubt that a given handwriting is a forgery or that
it was written down by a particular individual. The questioned-document examiner
therefore wishes as quickly and reliably as possible to eliminate alternative hypotheses
about the identity of a handwriting.
A historian who examines handwriting is also ultimately searching for the identity
of the person who did the writing—but, unlike the questioned-document examiner, the
historian will continue to entertain several plausible hypotheses of identity, even when
one hypothesis seems clearly stronger than the rest. The historian’s goal is to construct
a web of evidence in support of a particular hypothesis in which the parts of the argument
1 9 0 Staehelin describes two watermarks in the Bonn score of Don Giovanni. The
first consists of 3 crescent moons over REAL, countered by the letters VA. This mark is
similar to Tyson 95 and 96 (which may, themselves, be the same mark). The second
consists of the letters GFA under a canopy (or, as Staehelin writes, a “Helmzier”). This
description suggests a mark similar to Tyson 97, among others. While such similarities
of verbal description are insufficient to prove the identity of a paper, they are, in
combination with the occurrence of copyists known to have been active in the late 1780s,
at least strongly suggestive that the Bonn score may also date from around this time.
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255
become so closely intertwined and interdependent that the rejection of the hypothesis
would upset the contextual system of knowledge as a whole. The “certainty” arrived at in
this way is probably the best that can be obtained in any historical inquiry.
However, historical certainty, even of this sort, is rarely attained. Historical
arguments are very often—perhaps always and inevitably—based upon highly
fragmentary and inconclusive evidence. The discovery of even a single new document or
artifact may shake the foundations of a generally accepted and apparently unassailable
system of historical belief. For that reason, a historian will normally retain a number of
alternative hypotheses in reserve should new evidence come to light that challenges
a currently favored hypothesis.
The detailed methods of a music historian who is investigating musical handwriting
must also differ from those of a questioned-document examiner. Most musical
handwritings are anonymous at the outset of an investigation, and many if not most are
likely to remain so. Thus “standards" of handwriting must be established incrementally
and reflexively.
The principal focus in our study of musical handwriting will, of course, be musical
symbols, not textual handwriting. However, notated music often contains verbal text (as
in operas and songs), as well as other terms, names, and abbreviations written in letters
(such as tempo and dynamic marks, the names of instruments and characters, titles, and
so on). Texts written in letters will be susceptible to investigation by comparison with
“copybook” forms, using the methods of questioned-document examiners: in other
words, texts in our musical manuscripts are normally written either in italic script or in
eighteenth-century German Kurrentschrift using identifiable systems of handwriting
documented in contemporaneous handwriting manuals. The investigation of such textual
handwriting is not, however, a principal focus of the present study (see, however,
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256
Chapter 10). It should not be assumed, in any case, that the handwriting in the vocal text
of an opera (or, for that matter, the tempo marks, titles, and instrumental designations in
any musical manuscript) will necessarily have been written by the same hand as the
musical notation. It may have been, but this identity should be demonstrated rather than
assumed. It is also important to recognize that the textual handwriting used in musical
notation (for example, the word “Allegro” or the abbreviations “p:” and “f:”) may not be
entirely typical of other handwriting in the same system of writing.
How did eighteenth-century music copyists and musicians leam to write musical
notation? They probably did not leam it from musical “copybooks,” or manuals of
musical notation (no Viennese manuals are known to me from the period covered by this
dissertation). More likely, they learned it through direct teaching and imitation. The
avenues through which systems of musical notation were transmitted in the eighteenth
century included schools (such as the Jesuit schools in Bohemia and Moravia, renowned
for their musical instruction), choir schools (such as the one associated with St. Stephen’s
in Vienna, where both Joseph and Michael Haydn received their formal musical
educations), and monasteries. Many other musicians probably learned musical notation at
home, horn a parent or relative, and some copyists may have learned the principles of
musical notation from other copyists in a shop (such as that of Wenzel Sukowaty). It is
not surprising, then, that the musical hands of the young Mozart and of his father Leopold
were so similar that scholars sometimes have mistaken Leopold’s hand for
Wolfgang’s.1 9 1
In the absence of manuals of musical notation, it will be necessary to construct
a hypothetical “Viennese copybook style” against which the variation in individual
1 9 1 On this point, see Plath, “Beitrage zur Mozart-Autographie I.”
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257
handwriting can be compared. We can do this by examining a large number of musical
manuscripts that are certainly (or at least plausibly) Viennese, thus gradually and
incrementally forming a picture of “Viennese style.” The Viennese system of musical
handwriting, if there is one, will therefore be incrementally and reflexively determined in
much the same way that we have determined our standards for individual anonymous
musical hands.
Scholars have long recognized and referred in print to a “Viennese style” of musical
handwriting, but this style has not, to my knowledge, been described in print in any
detail. Because of the various avenues by which systems of musical handwriting might
be transmitted, it may be useful for us to distinguish between regional styles (for
example, “Lower Austrian,” or “South German”), local styles (“Viennese”), house styles
(“the Sukowaty shop”), and individual styles. The style most readily identifiable as
“Viennese” seems, in fact, to be the one most closely associated with the professional
music copyists employed by the principal opera houses in Vienna—Sukowaty in the court
theater and Kaspar Weifi in the Theater auf der Wieden—and the more important
commercial music copyists (Lorenz Lausch).1 9 2 This Viennese style will be described in
detail later on in this chapter.
Musical handwriting is learned in a different way and often at a later stage in life
than textual handwriting, and the processes by which the habits of musical handwriting
are formed may differ as well. Mozart is a well-documented test case: the basic forms of
the musical symbols in his “public” handwriting underwent several stages of modification
during his late childhood and teens. However, from his early twenties until his death, the
characteristic forms of his musical handwriting were quite stable and readily identifiable,
1 9 2 The handwritings of copyists employed by Johann Traeg demonstrate much
greater variety, and often deviate from the “Viennese” style.
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258
undergoing only gradual and subde modifications. When evaluating the stability of
a musical hand, we should keep in mind that consistency of musical handwriting would
have been a highly desirable characteristic in a professional music copyist, since ready
legibility (along with accuracy) would have been of utmost importance in a professional
setting in which musical works were often prepared with one rehearsal or even none at
all.
On the basis of these preliminary observations, let us begin our detailed discussion
of the identification of musical handwriting by stating two general principles, or rules of
thumb:
1. Musical symbols in the eighteenth century were apparently not
learned from “copybooks.” They were more likely learned
through a student’s imitation of the hand of a teacher, through the
imitation of symbols in other manuscripts, or perhaps through the
imitation of symbols in printed music. The informality of the ways
in which musical handwriting was learned tended to make the
form s more individually characteristic than those in textual
handwriting.
2. A professional copyist or musician, or any person writing down
a lot of music on a regular basis will eventually settle (consciously
or not) on certain forms for symbols, and these forms will
generally be quite stable and resistant to change.
To state this latter point is not to say that a person’s musical hand did not change over
time; often it did, although more often than not in relatively subtle ways. In fact, our
ultimate goal will be to form a historical picture of any particular musical hand, a picture
that may ultimately provide helpful evidence for determining relative and even absolute
chronology. Nevertheless, some musical hands are extremely stable and resistant to
change (the hand of the composer Emanuel Aloys Forster is an excellent example, as is
that of the copyist Joseph Arthofer, discussed in Chapter 5).1 9 3 We also need to remain
1 9 3 For facsimiles of Fbrster’s hand, see Ziffer, Kleinmeister, 205-8 and Tafel 10;
and Dexter Edge, “Recent Discoveries in Viennese Copies of Mozart’s Concertos,” in
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259
alert to the possibility of imitation—a copyist or student may imitate the characteristics of
the hand in a Vorlage.1 9 * We must also not assume that a particular individual had only
one musical hand; this was very often not so. Mozart, as we have seen, had “public” and
“private” musical hands. His public hand was intended for copyists, engravers, and
performers, whereas his private one, used in sketches, was for himself alone, and was
not intended to be read or interpreted by anyone else.
The first step in the investigation of anonymous music copyists is to decide how the
characteristics of different handwritings are to be collected and recorded, so that samples
of handwriting in widely separated archives and collections may readily be compared.
For this purpose, I use a standardized form or data sheet, similar in design to the one
illustrated by L&zkS Somfai in his 1987 paper on Gluck copyists.1 9 5 Figure 3.1 shows
an example of such a form from my field notes (I have since revised the form, having
come to feel that it is more efficient to maintain a separate record of information about
a manuscript’s paper-types). As Somfai has pointed out, it is crucial to record the
musical symbols on staff lines (something Tyson, for example, did not do in his study of
Beethoven’s copyists), in order to be able to keep track of their placement and relative
size. All of the symbols in my field notes are drawn freehand, following the advice of
Osbom and other questioned-document examiners. It is also possible, although more
time-consuming, to trace particular symbols (this procedure requires tracing the associated
staff lines as well). In either case, one must also whenever possible obtain
M ozart’ s Piano Concertos: Text, Context, Interpretation, ed. Neal Zaslaw (Ann Arbor
The University of Michigan Press, 1996), 51-65, here esp. 56-58.
1941 shall briefly consider two possible examples of imitation later on in this
dissertation, in regard to the copyists I call Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1 (see Chpt. 6) and
Viennese Mozart-Copyist 4 (see Chpt. 9 and Appendix D).
1 9 5 Somfai, “Die Wiener GIuck-Kopisten.”
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T hfrc: ( = > S.Vb
Collcct'am Saurcc: r t'b w
- • ' D C . - l » s , v * - Q >
O w V n ^ t ^ y .
Figure 3.1
Field notes on the hand of a copyist in a set of orchestral parts for
“Mia speranza adorata. . . Ah, non sai, qual pena sia,” K. 416. D-FU1, M 311.
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261
facsimiles (photocopies, photographs, or microfilm) of handwriting samples. These
samples should illustrate as many of the most important musical symbols as possible,
including all three clefs and a variety of time signatures (the first page of the score of
a movement in 2/4 or 3/4 will often provide sufficient information for the identification of
many copyists).1 9 6 The facsimiles should also record all significant variant forms for
each symbol.
The simplicity of my standard data sheet is both its greatest advantage and its
greatest fault Having the principal identifying characteristics of a handwriting available at
a glance on a single page permits rapid and efficient comparison. What is more, such
sheets can be prepared quicidy and efficiently in archives, where one must often cope
with sources containing a large number of handwritings, and where time is always at
a premium. However, the sheet does not allow for recording data in sufficient detail to
deal with questionable cases, or to track the chronological development of a hand. We
will need to make much more detailed and refined analyses of important hands and
handwritings in order to do this.
In recording the characteristics of a large number (perhaps hundreds or even
thousands) of anonymous musical handwritings, one immediately runs into a problem:
how should these anonymous hands be named? A simple serial numbering (1,2, 3,4
...) quickly becomes unwieldy and impractical. Furthermore, one has no way of
determining ahead of time which handwritings are going to turn out to be important, and
1961 have recently developed the prototype of a computerized database that includes
facsimiles of musical hands, along with verbal and numerical descriptions of their
principal characteristics; these descriptions may be used quite efficiendy to narrow the
scope of a search in a very large database, so that more detailed comparisons can be made
through direct examination of the facsimiles. In conjunction with the development of this
database, it has become clear that digital imaging has tremendous potential in the
recording and analysis of musical handwriting.
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262
which are going to be “unica” (that is, handwritings that turn up in a single source and are
never seen again). Clearly, too, at some point we will want to assign special names to the
most important hands, names by which we can refer to these hands in presentations and
in print. We will not want to refer to them by their initial identifying numbers (however
these are constituted), especially because these numbers will eventually tend to collapse
into one another, as one discovers matches between samples of handwriting in different
manuscripts.
The best solution seems, therefore, to draw a distinction between a “handwriting”
(an identifiable handwriting in a particular source), and a “hand” (the musical hand of
a particular individual, identifiable across a range of different sources). Handwritings
and hands may then be numbered separately, and one may assign an arbitrary number to
each and every handwriting as it is encountered in the course of research, only later
grouping these sources together under an identifier dedicated to a particular hand.
I generally assign identifiers to handwritings using the RISM siglum of the library in
which the source is found, combined with an identifier for the particular manuscript,
followed by a serial numbering (using numbers or letters) for the various different
handwritings within that manuscript For example, the name “D-FUl-416g” in Figure 3.1
refers to the seventh handwriting found in a set of parts for Mozart’s concert aria K. 416
(“Mia speranza adorata. . . Ah, non sai, qual pena sia”) in the Hessische
Landesbibliothek in Fulda in Germany (D-FU1). As it turns o u t this same hand can be
identified in a number of other sources, many of them manuscripts originating from the
shop of Wenzel Sukowaty. In that context I have assigned the hand the name
“Sukowaty 2,” the same copyist we have already encountered on the first page of the
overture in the original Viennese performing score of Don Giovanni.
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263
The elements of musical handwriting relevant to the identification of individual
musical hands are: (1) clefs, (2) time signatures and figures, (3) rests, (4) key signatures
and accidentals, (S) noteheads, stems, beams, and flags, (6) dynamic marks, (7) textual
score markings, such as tempo and expression marks, (8) articulation marks, and
(9) miscellaneous symbols, such as braces, internal double bars, repeat signs, and final
double bars.1 9 7 I shall consider each of these elements in turn, focusing on their
application to the analysis of handwritings found in eighteenth-century musical
manuscripts. Throughout the discussion, reference will be made to readily available
published facsimiles of musical handwriting, particularly Walter Gerstenberg’s
Musikerhandschriften von Palestrina bis Beethoven, Martin HUrlimann’s companion
volume, Musikerhandschriften von Schubert bis Strawinsky, and Emanuel Wintemitz’s
Musical Autographs from Monteverdi to Hindemith.m My illustrations are drawn largely
from Gerstenberg and HUrlimann.1 9 9 These illustrations are designed merely to suggest
the range of variation found in particular musical symbols, and are by no means intended
to be comprehensive. Following the discussion of individual symbols, I shall go on to
discuss general aspects of musical handwriting, such as size, proportion, slant, and
shading, as well as the textual handwriting found on title pages and in vocal texts.
1 9 7 One might also follow Ziffer here, and include “cancellations and corrections”
(“Streichungen und Verbesserungen”; see the discussion earlier in this chapter of Ziffer,
Kleinmeister). However, such cancellations and corrections are much more rare in
manuscripts produced by professional copyists than they are in composing manuscripts.
1 9 8 Walter Gerstenberg, ed., Musikerhandschriften von Palestrina bis Beethoven
(Zurich: Atlantis Verlag, 1960); Martin HUrlimann, ed., Musikerhandschriften von
Schubert bis Strawinsky (Zurich: Atlantis Verlag, 1961); Wintemitz, Musical
Autographs.
1 9 9 In what follows, I have accepted the identifications given by Gerstenberg and
HUrlimann.
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264
C le f
Normally, anyone attempting to analyze and identify a sample of musical
handwriting will need, whenever possible, to record the forms and significant variants of
all three principal clefs: the treble clef (G clef), the bass clef (F clef), and the C clef
(which, in the repertory considered here, may appear variously as a soprano, alto, or
tenor clef). As Dadelsen already recognized, clefs offer a greater range for individual
variation than do many other musical symbols, and they are therefore often the most
individually characteristic symbols of a particular musical hand.2 0 0 Not infrequently it
may be possible to make a convincing identification of a particular musical hand using
clefs alone.2 0 1
Treble clefs appear in several basic forms in the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries (see Figure 3.2). Henry Purcell, for example, wrote an elaborate script “G” for
his G clef (his flourishes make it look almost like an “H”).2 0 2 Telemann’s treble clef
resembles an uppercase printed “G.”2 0 3 Handel’s treble clef resembles a modem treble
clef lacking a central stem, although he occasionally adds a small loop at the top
suggesting a vestigial stem.2 0 4 Beethoven’s likewise resembles a modem treble clef
without a stem. Treble clefs of this stemless sort may have been a peculiarly German
2 0 0 Dadelsen, Beitrage, 59.
2 0 1 Dadelsen (op. cit., 59) writes: “Einige Schreiber verraten sich durch ein
bestimmtes Schliisselzeichen so unverkennbar, daB man sie bereits hiemach einwandfrei
identifizieren kann” (“Some scribes betray themselves so unmistakably through
a particular clef, that one can identify them with certainty on that basis alone”).
2 0 2 See Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 14 and 17-22; and Wintemitz,
Musical Autographs, vol. 2, plate 14.
2 0 3 See Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 23 and 25.
2 0 4 See Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 35,37-41, and 43-45; and
Wintemitz, Musical Autographs, vol. 2, plates 37-38, and 40-43.
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265
type; at any rate, they are not found in manuscripts written by musicians trained in
Vienna.2 0 5
Purcell Telemann Handel Handel Beethoven
Figure 3.2
Some forms of the treble clef.
By far the most common type of treble cief in the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries was the modem one, resembling an ampersand. This type of treble clef may be
drawn as one continuous line starting at either end: it may begin at the bottom of the
“stem,” ascending vertically to a “peak” at the top of the staff, then curving downward.
Alternatively, one may begin the clef with the curve around the G line, and continue in the
opposite direction, ending with the stem. It is also not unusual (among Viennese
copyists, at any rate) for the treble clef to be drawn with two separate strokes of the pen
consisting of the curved line and the central stem.
This general design seems not to have been typical of any particular region or
system of handwriting, and it remains recognizable within a very wide range of individual
variation. The clef may extend well above and below the staff, or be entirely contained
within it. The central stem may be straight and vertical, or curved. Its ascent may begin
below the staff, in the middle of the staff, or even toward the top of the staff. The
beginning point of the stem may or may not be characterized by a small dot. The stem
2 0 5 See also Dadelsen G51-G53, G61-G63, and several other more unusual types
(G72-G80) that more clearly show the clefs descent from the letter “G.” AH references
such as “G51” here and in subsequent notes are to the illustrations in Dadelsen, Beitrage.
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266
may or may not have a hook upward to the left at its bottom end (curves to the right are
unusual), or there may even be a loop or eyelet at the bottom of the stem. The peak of the
clef may be pointed or rounded, and it may or may not form a visible eyelet or closed
loop. The curve across the G line may touch or even cross the central stem (I shall call
this a “closed’* treble clef), or it may not reach the stem (an “open” clef). Many other
individual variants besides these are possible.2 0 6 Figure 3.3 shows examples of different
forms of the “ampersand” treble clef in the hands of several well-known composers and
one important Viennese copyist.
A. Scarlatti Rameau Vivaldi
u a i
J. S. Bach Grgtry Mozart
V- -A
m w
M. Haydn J. Haydn Sukowaty 8 Boccherini Schubert Cherubini
m
Weber Bruckner
Figure 3.3
Some variants of the “ampersand” treble clef.2 0 7
2 0 6 For other variants of the “ampersand” treble clef, see also Dadelsen, G1-G8,
G10-G13, G21-G28, G31-G42, and G81.
2 0 7 The facsimile of Rameau’s handwriting shows a French violin clef, not a treble
clef.
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267
A bass clef may take one of three generalized forms: a “C” form, in which the clef
is open to the right, a “reversed C” form, in which the clef is open to the left, or
a “closed” form, in which the curve of the clef forms a closed or nearly closed circle (see
Figure 3.4). The normal modem bass clef is of the second, “reversed-C” form, but the
“C” type was also quite common in the eighteenth century. Mozart made his bass clefs in
this way, as did Alessandro Scarlatti, Vivaldi, Gluck, Boccherini, and Piccinni. Bass
clefs of all three types almost always include two dots bracketing the F line. One or two
vertical lines may be placed between the body of the clef and the two dots. Some hands
place the stem of the first flat of the key signature between the clef and the dots (see, for
example, Gluck’s bass clef in Figure 3.4a). Hands that normally place one or more lines
between clef and dots may use the flat to replace one or both of these, but flats are also
sometimes placed in this position by hands that otherwise do not include lines between
clef and dots (the hand of J. S. Bach is an example).2 0 8 Many variations in size and
shape are possible for bass clefs of all three types, and we shall meet many of these
variations in the following chapters.2 0 9 It is sufficient to point here to a variant of the
“reversed C” type commonly found in many Viennese hands and seldom found
elsewhere: the clef is open to the left, and consists of a relatively short upper curve, and
a separately written elongated lower stroke or curve, which I shall refer to as the “foot”
(see Figure 3.4d). The clef as a whole can be thought of as resembling a pincer or
a clamshell, and I shall refer to this form as the “pincer” type.
2 0 8 Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 46, 52-53, 55-56,60,66, and 68-
70.
2 0 9 For further varieties of bass clef, see Dadelsen, J1-J9 and J43 (“reversed-C”
types), and J 11-J15, J21-23, J41-J42, J44, and J51 (“C” types). Of Dadelsen’s
examples, only J2 can be regarded as “closed.” His J51 lacks dots around the F line. He
gives no examples of a Viennese “pincer” type.
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268
A. Scarlatti Vivaldi Gluck Boccherini Piccinni
Figure 3.4a
Some variants o f the “C-form” bass clef.
Mozart
y t
Purcell Telemann
» •
1
i p p
Schubert Schubert
VMC-l Beethoven
Cherubini Weber Bruckner R. Strauss
Figure 3.4b2 1 0
Some variants of the “reversed-C” bass clef.
I
J. S. Bach C. P. E. Bach Salieri J. Haydn
Figure 3.4c
Some examples of “closed” bass clefs.
2 1 0 The abbreviation “VMC-l” stands for Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1, who will be
discussed in Chpt. 6.
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M. Haydn Sukowaty 4 Sukowaty 8 Sukowaty 14 Sukowaty 16 VMC-4a
Lausch 1 Lausch 2
Figure 3.4d
Some variants of the Viennese “pincer” bass clef.
Perhaps the greatest variety of form is found in the C clef. C clefs seem to have
taken on identifiable regional styles in the eighteenth century. For example, a very
common type of C clef in German musical hands consists of two vertical lines, with
a device resembling a “3” to the immediate right of the line on the right. The central point
of this “3” is on (or meant to be on) the C line, and the upper curve of the “3” is usually
attached to the line. Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach made his C clefs in this way (see Figure
3.5), as did Telemann (although his rendering of the “3” becomes somewhat stylized),
and later Brahms and Hindemith.211 J. S. Bach and Handel also seem both to have made
their C clefs in this form, although the form sometimes becomes considerably distorted by
haste and the reluctance of the writers to lift the pen from the paper.2 1 2
2 1 1 See Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 71 (C. P. E. Bach), and 23-25
(Telemann). For Brahms and Hindemith, see Wintemitz, Musical Autographs, vol. 2,
Plates 148 (Brahms) and 193 (Hindemith).
2 1 2 See the facsimiles of the manuscripts of Bach and Handel in Gerstenberg,
Musikerhandschriften. Bach, in particular, often drew his C clef without lifting the pen
from the paper, thus creating connecting lines between the basic components of the clef;
see especially Gerstenberg’s Figures 52 (from the St. John Passion), 55 (from the
Clavierbtichlein fo r Anna Magdalena), and 59-60 (from autograph parts for the St.
Matthew Passion), where these connections are particularly evident.
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Purcell Telemann A. Scarlatti Vivaldi Handel J. S. Bach
C. P. E. Bach Gluck Piccinni Grdtry Boccherini J. Haydn
Salieri R. Strauss Mozart Cherubini Berlioz Berlioz
Figure 3.5
Some forms of the C clef.
Another type of C clef, characteristic of many eighteenth-century Italian hands,
consists of two (sometimes three) vertical lines, usually filling the staff or extending
above and below it, with one short horizontal line above the C line, and a much longer
line below the C line, often curving downward. Vivaldi made his C clefs in this way (the
line furthest to the left in Figure 3.5 is a portion of the ruled brace, and is not part of the
clef), as did Marcello, Piccinni, Cherubini, and Rossini.2 1 3 Clefs of this form were not
exclusively Italian, however (the same form is found in the hand of Grdtry, for example),
and by no means all Italians made C clefs in this way.2 1 4
2 1 3 For Vivaldi, Piccinni, and Cherubini, see Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften,
Figures 28,81, and 87-88. For Marcello and Rossini, see Wintemitz, Musical
Autographs, vol. 2, Plates 22 (Marcello) and 100 (Rossini).
2 1 4 Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figure 84. Joseph Haydn’s C clef is
imprecisely formed and schematic, but may perhaps also be interpreted as a variant of this
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271
Mozart’s C clef, the form of which he borrowed from his father Leopold and which
he retained throughout his life, consists of two pairs of vertical lines separated by two
short horizontal lines bracketing the C line. C clefs of this form seem to have been
common in Southern Germany (Leopold was from Augsburg). Much later, Richard
Strauss, bom and educated in Munich, still made his C clefs in this way.2 1 5
A peculiar and characteristic form of C clef was commonly made by many (although
not all) musicians and music copyists trained in Vienna (see Figure 3.6). It consists of
three vertical lines, often with a noticeably wider gap between the line on the left and the
two lines on the right Two short horizontal lines are placed in between the two lines on
the right bracketing the C line. A third longer line descends obliquely from left to right
across the bottom of the clef; I shall refer to this line as the “foot” of the C clef. Michael
Haydn made his C clef in this way, as did Franz Schubert; both composers were trained
in Vienna.2 1 6 As we shall see, this type of C clef is typical of what might be called
“Viennese copy-house style.” Although this clef is strongly typical of Viennese hands,
and rare elsewhere, it does occur occasionally in non-Viennese hands: oddly enough, for
example, the “Viennese” form is found in manuscripts written by Berlioz and Glinka.2 1 7
type. Grdtry studied for two years in Rome with Giovanni Battista Casali, and he may
have adopted the Italian style of C clef at that time (I am grateful to Bruce Alan Brown for
this point).
2 1 5 HUrlimann, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 94 and 95. Igor Stravinsky also
made his C clef in this way; see Wintemitz, Musical Autographs, vol. 2, Plates 185 and
186.
2 1 6 Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figure 100 (Michael Haydn); HUrlimann,
Musikerhandschriften, Figures 2 and 4 (Schubert). Schubert tended not to lift the pen
from the paper any more often than absolutely necessary when drawing this clef, and the
lines are thus sometimes connected in ways that partly obscure the form.
2 1 7 For Glinka, see the facsimile from the autograph of Ruslan and Lyudmila,
Figure 2 in David Brown, “Glinka, Mikhail Ivanovich,” New Grove, vol. 7,438. For
Berlioz, see HUrlimann, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 29 (Chant des chemins de fer),
30 (La Damnation de Faust), and 31 (L ’ Enfance du Christ). Different forms of C clef are
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272
Many other forms of C clef are possible, and we shall meet some of these in subsequent
chapters.2 1 8
M. Haydn Sukowaty 14 Sukowaty 16 VMC-4a Lausch 2 Schubert
Figure 3.6
Some forms of the “Viennese” C clef.
Time signatures and flaurea
The examiner of musical handwriting will also need to record as many as possible
of the most common time signatures, including 2/4,3/4,6/8, common time, and cut time.
Because time signatures in the Viennese system often include a characteristic “4” with
a double stem, time signatures including that number will be particularly useful for
identifying manuscripts of (or suspected to be of) Viennese provenance.
The numerals used in time signatures may occur in a variety of forms, but in all
cases we will want to pay particular attention to the size of the numerals relative to the
staff, and their positions on the staff. The exact vertical position on the staff of a time
signature (unlike that of a clef) carries no functional information as musical notation, and
it is thus more subject to arbitrary (and potentially identifying) variation. The “C” of
a common-time or cut-time signature, for example, may till the entire staff, or only some
portion of the staff. It may be placed so that the upper curve of the C touches the top line
of the staff, or even extends above it, or so that the lower curve touches the bottom line of
found in Hiirlimann’s other two facsimiles from Berlioz autographs, Figures 27
(Symphonie fantastique) and 28 (Requiem).
2,8 For further examples, see also the 49 types given by Dadelsen in his category H.
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273
the staff or extends below it Similar variation in relative size and placement will be found
in the upper and lower figures of numerical time signatures. One occasionally also
encounters time signatures consisting of single numerals (“2” or “3”).
The central line of a cut-time signature may extend well above or below the staff, or
it may remain within the staff lines (it will almost always cut both the upper and lower
curves of the C). The central line may be ornamented, perhaps with loops or serifs at the
top or bottom. It may also have a short oblique or horizontal stroke near the midpoint.
The horizontal position of this stroke relative to the body of the C may also be
characteristic.
The C itself may be drawn in a single stroke, or in two (it is rare to find a C in
a time signature written with more than two strokes). An upper stroke, if present, will
typically complete the upper curve of the C. This upper stroke may occur in a wide
variety of forms and lengths.2 1 9
A time signature consisting of two numerals may or may not have a line between the
upper and lower numbers. The presence or absence of such a line may be characteristic
of a particular hand. In some hands, the inconsistency of its presence may itself be
characteristic (see, for example, the hand of Viennese Mozart-Copyist 1, discussed in
Chapter 6).
2 1 9 In his category L, Dadelsen illustrates 18 variants of the signatures for common
and cut time. He provides no examples at all of numerical key signatures, stating that
these tend not to be distinctive for the repertoire he is discussing: “Die als
Taktvorzeichnung dienenden Briiche 3/8,3/4,6/4 u.a. sind nur von wenigen Schreibem
zu charakterisdschen ‘Figuren’ ausgebildet. Man wird sie deshalb nur selten zur
Idendfizierung heranziehen kiinnen” (“The fractional time signatures 3/8,3/4,6/4 and so
on are given a characteristic shape by only a few scribes. One will therefore use them for
identification only rarely”; Dadelsen, Beitrage, 62). In contrast, numerical time signatures
are, along with clefs, among the most characteristic symbols in the hands of many
Viennese copyists.
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274
A “2” may have a loop or eyelet at the change of direction from the upper body of
the numeral to the horizontal base, it may form a sharp point, or the change of direction
may be accomplished through a more gentle curve. Occasionally one finds an upward
serif at the right end of the baseline. A “3” may likewise have a loop at its central point,
or it may not. The upper portion of the “3” may be rounded, or it may be relatively flat.
The numeral “4” occurs in an especially wide variety of forms in time signatures
(see Figure 3.7). The upper part of the numeral may be open or closed. There may or
may not be a loop or eyelet at the left-hand comer, where the arm meets the crossbar. The
crossbar will almost always meet the stem or cross it. The stem itself may be single,
double, or occasionally even triple, and the stem (or sometimes both stems in the case of
a double one) may have a “foot,” which may resemble a serif or consist of a more
elaborate curve or flourish (see Figure 3.7).
Sukowaty 3 Sukowaty 4 Sukowaty 14 Sukowaty 16
Figure 3.7
Forms of the numeral “4” In time signatures.
Figured bass is quite rare in most Viennese musical manuscripts of the second half
of the eighteenth century (with the exception of scores and parts of sacred works, and the
Vivaldi C. P. E. Bach Gluck Haydn Beethoven Schubert
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275
solo parts for some keyboard concertos), and when figures do occur, we must not
necessarily assume that they have been written by the same hand as the rest of the
manuscript. If figures are present and they are by the principal hand, however, their
forms and the variation in these forms should be recorded.
BSIU
Two principal systems for the indication of eighth and quarter rests were in use in
the eighteenth century. Use of these systems seems to have varied geographically. What
I shall call “System 1 ” is found in many Italian and French manuscripts. In this system,
the eighth rest is similar to that used in modem notation, resembling an “L” rotated 180s.
A quarter rest is the mirror image of the eighth rest (see Figure 3.8a). This system of
quarter and eighth rests is found in the hands of Rameau, Piccinni, Cimarosa, Grdtry,
Boccherini, and Cherubini, among many others.2 2 0 In this system, the sixteenth rest may
take on the appearance of a small “v” or “bird,” as in the example from Boccherini shown
in Figure 3.8a.
2 2 0 Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 30 and 32-34 (Rameau), 81
(Piccinni), 83 (Cimarosa), 84 (Gretry), 85-86 (Boccherini), and 87-88 (Cherubini).
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276
\ = r ) (/ 1
\ l i £ %
Purcell Grdtry
Boccherini Cherubini
Figure 3.8a
Quarter and eighth rests, System 1.
“System 2,” common in Germany, Austria, Vienna, and elsewhere, uses the form just
described for the eighth rest, but employs a quarter rest that in its most basic form
resembles a mirror-image “Z ’ or “2” (see Figure 3.8b). When made rapidly, the shapes
of these rests may become elongated or simplified. One common simplification of the
quarter rest resembles a stylized depiction of a bird in flight (thus resembling the form
often taken by sixteenth rests in System 1). We may call this the “bird form" of quarter
rest The bird form may or may not have an eyelet at the central point
M. Haydn J. Haydn J. S. Bach
Mozart Schubert
Figure 3.8b
Quarter and eighth rests, System 2.
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i n
The placement of rests on the staff may be a significant characteristic of an individual
hand, as may also the method used for indicating multi-measure rests.
Key signature* and accidentals
Accidentals include the flat, sharp, natural, double flat, and double sharp. The
double flat and double sharp are sufficiently rare in the music of the second half of the
eighteenth century that they are normally of little use in identifying musical handwriting,
and for that reason neither will be treated in detail here. However, the forms and detailed
characteristics of both should be recorded when they do appear.
The basic forms of the flat, sharp, and natural do not vary in eighteenth-century
musical notation—in other words, the basic forms of the symbols were relatively fixed in
all systems of musical handwriting by that point. Any variation in the forms of the three
principal accidentals may therefore potentially be seen as characteristic of an individual
hand.
Rats may be pointed or rounded at the bottom, and the top of the stem may or may
not begin with a slight hook to the left or right, where the pen has initially touched the
paper. The curve of the lower body of the flat may or may not reach the stem (we may
thus refer to flats as “closed” or “open”). The ratio of the length of the stem to the size of
the body of the flat may also be significant For example, the stems of Gluck’s flats are
consistently almost four times the height of their bodies.2 2 1
Sharps normally consist of two pairs of line segments, one pair roughly vertical and
the other roughly horizontal, which intersect to form a characteristic cross-hatched design
that encloses a quadrilateral. Each pair of lines is normally more or less parallel, but this
is not always so: either or both pairs may converge. Sharps differ principally in the slant
2 2 1 Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 76 and 77.
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278
of their horizontal and vertical components, in the relative length of these lines, and the
relative size of the central quadrilateral.
Sharps may, in fact, be classified according to the combinations of the slants of
their vertical and horizontal components. When each pair of lines is roughly parallel (as
more often than not they are), the “vertical” pair may be perpendicular to the staff, or
inclined to the left or right of the vertical axis. Similarly, the “horizontal” pair may be
parallel to the staff, or inclined upward or downward relative to it. This classification
results in nine possible combinations, but in practice, several of these are rare. The most
common, in order of decreasing frequency in the facsimiles in Gerstenberg, are:
(1) verticals inclined to the right of the vertical axis, and horizontals inclined downward
from left to right relative to the staff; (2) verticals inclined to the left of the vertical axis,
and horizontals ascending from left to right; (3) verticals perpendicular to the staff, with
horizontals ascending from left to right; and (4) verticals and horizontals respectively
perpendicular and parallel to the staff lines.2 2 2
Sharps commonly require four separate strokes of the pen, but some individuals
may connect one or more of the lines by failing to lift the pen from the paper. Other
variants are occasionally found. Telemann, for example, in his key signatures (although
not his accidentals), draws sharps consisting of only three line segments, in a
configuration that looks like a natural sign missing part of its central square, or (because
of the angles of the components) like a lowercase “h” (see Figures 3.2, 3.4b, and 3.5).2 2 3
2 2 2 When I write “perpendicular'’ or “parallel,” I intend these words to be interpreted
within the relatively generous tolerances of visual inspection.
2 2 3 See Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 24 and 25.
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279
A natural sign may be written in several different ways (see Figure 3.9). In its most
common and basic form, the natural sign consists of two Ls, each with an elongated
stem, with one L rotated 180*. These Ls may interlock or not.
Telemann A. Scarlatti Vivaldi Gluck Boccherini Haydn Mozart Bruckner
Figure 3.9
Some forms of the natural sign.
Naturals with interlocking Ls are most common: they are found, for example, in
the hands of Telemann, Alessandro Scarlatti, Handel, J. S. Bach, C. P. E. Bach,
Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, and Weber.2 2 4 Occasionally, one of the Ls (typically the
one with the downward pointing stem) may lose its well-defined angle, and the stroke as
a whole becomes a gentle curve. In his mature musical hand, Mozart’s natural sign is
often of this sort, consisting of interlocking Ls, with the rightmost component (including
the downward pointing stem) modified to a shallow curve. In effect, Mozart’s natural
sign has three sides instead of four, and outlines a triangle rather than a square;
Beethoven’s natural sign is quite similar. Non-interlocking Ls are less common, but are
found in the hands of Haydn and Brahms, among others. The relative length of the stems
and the size of the central square may also be significant.
Two other types of natural signs may be mentioned here. One consists of two
strokes, in which the upper stem, upper crossbar, and lower stem are made in a single,
continuous movement. The lower crossbar is then added with a separate stroke. Natural
2 2 4 See facsimiles in Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Hiirlimann,
Musikerhandschriften, and Wintemitz, Musical Autographs.
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280
signs of this type are found in the hands of Vivaldi, Liszt, and Bruckner.2 2 3 The second
type is similar, but with the second stroke eliminated altogether. Gluck often made his
natural signs in this way, as did Boccherini and Salieri.2 2 6
Key signatures seem generally to have reached something like their modem forms
by the second half of the eighteenth century, but one still finds individual variation in the
relative placement or order of individual sharps and flats in the signature. For example,
Johann Sebastian Bach, in a key signature of two sharps, sometimes (but not
consistently) places the C t to the left of the Ft.2 2 7 Throughout his life, Mozart placed the
Bb and At of his bass-clef key signatures at the top of the staff, rather than in the “normal”
positions on the fourth line and fourth space.2 2 8
2 2 3 See Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 28 and 29 (Vivaldi), and
Httrlimann, i, Figures 35 (Liszt) and 68-71 (Bruckner). There are occasional variants in
Bruckner’s natural signs, but the general form described here is by far the most common
in the facsimiles given in Hiirlimann.
2 2 6 See Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 76 and 77 (Gluck), and 85
(Boccherini). For Salieri, see Wintemitz, Musical Autographs, vol. 2, Plate 59.
2 2 7 See, for example, Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 63 and 64, from
the autograph score of the B-minor Mass.
2 2 8 Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 101 (from the Notebook of 1764),
102 (K. 20), 105 (K. 79), 106 (K. 83), and 109 (from the hom concerto, K. 417). See
also Wintemitz, Musical Autographs, Plate 62 (from the “Gran Partitta,” K. 361). For
other examples, see the following facsimiles: the opening of the autograph score of the
Andante of Mozart’s String Quartet in F Major, K. 168, published in facsimile as
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Streichquartett F-Dur, KV 16&-String Quartet F-Major,
K. 168. Faksimile nach dem Autograph, im Besitz der Staatsbibliothek Preussischer
Kulturbesitz, Berlin, with a commentary by Wolf-Dieter Seiffert (Munich: G. Henle
Verlag, 1991), f. 5r.; and the autograph score of the Piano Concerto in C minor, K. 491,
published in facsimile as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Piano Concerto, K. 491
(Washington: The Robert Owen Lehman Foundation, 1964).
There are occasional variants in Mozart’s practice in this regard. On the first page
of the autograph of the String Quintet, K. 174, the Bb in the key signature for the cello is
doubled at the octave: it is placed above the top line of the staff, and also on the fourth
line, to the right of the other two flats. Mozart also doubles the Bb at the octave in the
cello’s key signatures in the first movement, the minuet and trio, and the last movement of
K. 168.
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281
Another fairly common variant found in other musical hands is to place the F$
directly above the Cf, so that the two share the same pair of vertical lines. Marcello
combined the F? and C$ in his key signatures in this way, as did Cherubini.2 2 9 Berlioz
sometimes (although not consistently) connects both the F t and Ct, and the D f and Gj,
as can be seen in HUrlimann’s facsimile of a page from Berlioz’s autograph of Chant de
chemins de fer, with a key signature of five sharps.2 3 0
One occasionally also finds flats written one above the other in this way. For
example, Hiirlimann’s facsimile horn the autograph of Adolphe Adam’s Si j ’ etais roi
shows a key signature of three flats, in which the E t> is directly above the Bk so that the
two share the same stem. Berlioz also combines his E & and B i? in this way.2 3 1
It was not uncommon for musicians in the eighteenth century to double one or more
of the accidentals in a key signature at the octave. Johann Sebastian Bach very often did
this. An extreme example is the “London” autograph of the Prelude in D-sharp minor
from the second book of the Wohltemperiertes Klavier. Here, Bach doubles the C t, D*,
and E$ of the key signature in both octaves in both the soprano clef and the bass clef, thus
giving an apparent key signature of nine sharps.2 3 2
Notehaada. atema. beam*, and flag*
By and large, the standard modem system of writing notes, stems, beams, and
flags was well-established throughout Europe by the mid-eighteenth century, and there
2 2 9 For Marcello, see Wintemitz, M usical Autographs, vol. 2, Plate 22. For
Cherubini, see Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figure 87.
2 3 0 HUrlimann, Musikerhandschriften, Figure 29.
2 3 1 HUrlimann, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 12 (Adam) and 27 (Berlioz,
Symphonie fantastique).
2 3 2 Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figure 51. See also Figures 49 (the Partita
for Solo Violin in E major), and 68 (from the Musical Offering).
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282
were few significant regional variations. Therefore, most of the variation in these
symbols may potentially be characteristic of individual hands. Variation may occur in the
manner of formation of open noteheads (which may be formed with a single stroke, or
with two separate strokes); in the direction of the strokes comprising the open noteheads;
in the relative size of both open and filled noteheads; in the direction of stems; in the side
of the notehead to which the stem is attached (which may differ depending on whether the
stem points up or down or whether the notehead is open or filled); in the slant of the
stems; in the shape, relative size, and manner of attachment of flags; and in the shape and
relative placement of the beams.
A quarter note may be written with one or two separate strokes of the pen. The
solid notehead may be drawn first, after which the pen is lifted from the paper, and the
stem then drawn with a separate stroke. Alternatively, the notehead and stem, whether
ascending or descending, may be made in a single stroke, without a lift of the pen. The
stem itself may be attached to the left or right side of the notehead, or it may be attached to
the center. (It is very rare for the ascending stem of a quarter note to be attached to the left
side of the notehead.)
The open, unfilled notehead o f a whole note may be made in one continuous
movement, or with two separate strokes. If it is made in one continuous movement, that
movement may begin and end at the top or at the bottom of the notehead (or, more rarely,
at one side or the other). Similarly, the open notehead and stem of a half-note may be
written in one continuous movement, in two separate movements, separated by a lift of
the pen, or even in three movements (an open notehead drawn with two strokes, plus
a separately-drawn stem).2 3 3
2 3 3 For a thorough analysis o f the ways of drawing a half note, see Wintemitz,
Musical Autographs, vol. 1, 27-30.
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283
This variety of possibilities gives wide scope for personal variation in the formation
of notes. However, some characteristics of notes seem to have been related to the
medium of writing (usually, in the eighteenth century, a quill pen), and may therefore not
necessarily be individually identifying. In quill-pen writing there seems to have been only
one way of writing a half-note with a descending stem in one uninterrupted movement:
namely, to begin the notehead at the top of its curve, drawing the notehead
counterclockwise, then continuing downward with the descending stem on the right side
of the notehead (see the examples from Telemann, Handel, J. S. Bach, and Gluck in
Figure 3.10b). Composers and musicians who made this sort of half-note in a single
uninterrupted movement placed the stem on the right side of the notehead regardless o f the
position o f the descending stems in their quarter notes and smaller values. Gluck, for
example, wrote his half-notes with descending stems in this manner, with the stem to the
right of the notehead, even though the descending stems of his quarter notes and smaller
values are consistently attached to the left side of the noteheads.2 3 4
* a 3
Purcell Telemann Handel J. S. Bach Gluck J. Haydn Mozart Cherubini
Figure 3.10a
Some forms of half note with ascending stem.
2 3 4 Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 76-79 (Gluck).
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Purcell Telemann Handel J. S. Bach J. S. Bach Gluck J. Haydn
Mozart Cherubini
Figure 3.10b
Some forms of half note with descending stem.
Half notes with descending stems may be drawn with two separate strokes, rather
than a single one. One common configuration, found in the hands of Joseph Haydn,
Mozart, Schubert, and many other composers, consists of a semicircle for the upper half
of the notehead, and a second continuous stroke consisting of the lower half of the
notehead and the stem (see Figure 3.10b). In one less common variant (found in
Beethoven’s hand), the upper semicircle of the notehead and stem are drawn in one
continuous stroke, to which the lower half of the notehead is then added with a short arc.
A third method for writing a half-note is to draw the notehead in one continuous
movement, and then to attach the stem in a separate stroke. In this case, the stem may be
attached to the left, center, or right of the notehead, regardless of whether the stem is
ascending or descending. It is somewhat old-fashioned by the eighteenth century to
attach the stem to the center of a half-note (this form is typical of Lasso, Palestrina, and
Schtitz), but this form is still found occasionally (for example, in Bach’s “calligraphic”
hand, and also in the hand of Cherubini).2 3 5
2 3 5 Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 68 (Musical Offering) and 69 (Art
o f Fugue).
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285
Haif-notes with descending stems attached to the left of the notehead (the modem
form) are found in the hands of Piccinni, Mendelssohn, and Schumann, among others.2 3 6
Half notes with separately written descending stems attached to the right side of the
notehead are relatively rare.
The absolute and relative size of noteheads may also be a significant characteristic,
as may the slant of the stems relative to the vertical axis. Slant may be conveniently
measured with a loupe or comparator equipped with a reticle with an angle scale.2 3 7 By
convention, I shall speak of the slant of stems and other quasi-vertical strokes (such as
bar lines) in terms of degrees to the left or right of the vertical axis (which will be taken to
be an imaginary vertical line perpendicular to the staff line; the angle is measured relative
to the point where the axis intersects the lower end of the stroke). Thus we may say that
ascending stems are “typically slanted 10° to the left of the vertical axis,” or that
descending stems have a slant “15° to the right of the vertical axis.” The length of flags
relative to the length of stems may also be significant.2 3 8
Beams may be either straight or curved, and the stems of the notes they connect
may or may not generally overlap the beam. The relative thickness and manner of
shading of beams may also be characteristic of a particular hand.
2 3 6 Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figure 81 (Piccinni), and HUrlimann,
Musikerhandschriften, Figures 21 (Mendelssohn) and 26 (Schumann).
2 3 7 1 use a Carton 7x Scale Loupe, with a 43 mm, 6-scale reticle. The scales include
an angle scale graduated by degree from 0s to 90°, a millimeter scale graduated by tenths
of a millimeter, and several other scales in inches. This comparator was purchased in
1998 from Edmund Scientific (catalogue number V37-698).
2 3 8 One common variety of separate sixteenth note that does not figure in Viennese
manuscripts of the second half of the century consists of an eighth note with an extra
flourish on the end of the flag. This type of sixteenth note is found in the hands of
Purcell, Alessandro Scarlatti, and Handel, among others; see Gerstenberg,
Musikerhandschriften, Figures 14-15, and 19-21 (Purcell); Figures 26-27 (Scarlatti); and
Figures 35,37,42, and 44 (Handel). The flags on Handel’s separate sixteenth notes
resemble a script “W” (on descending stems) or an “M” (on ascending stems).
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286
Dynamic m irK ioat
Common dynamic markings in the music of the second half of the eighteenth
century include piano (often abbreviated “p” or “pia”), forte (“f,” “fo,” or “for”),
mezzoforte (“mf”), and (more rarely) fortissimo (“ff”) and pianissimo (“pp”). Other
markings on this general scale of loudness (such as “mp”) are rare during this period.
Changes in dynamic level are often indicated by the words “crescendo” or “decrescendo,”
or abbreviations of these; “hairpin” crescendos and decrescendos are rare (in Viennese
sources, at any rate) until around the turn of the century.2 3 9 One frequently also finds
abbreviations for dynamic accents such as “fz,” “sf,” “fp,” “sfp,” and variants of these.
In the seventeenth century, dynamic markings were rarer still, and the words
“piano” and “forte” were sometimes written out in full.24 0 However, by the mid
eighteenth century, the words used as dynamic markings are almost always abbreviated
(although one sometimes sees “crescendo” and “decrescendo” written out in full,
particularly when a change in dynamic is meant to extend over several bars). In
eighteenth-century Viennese practice, abbreviations of this sort are normally followed by
double dots (a colon). Less frequently, abbreviations are followed by a single dot. Plain
abbreviations, without dots, are relatively rare in Viennese sources.
Abbreviations for dynamics are always written in some variety of a standard italic
hand. Individual hands may be identified using the methods of questioned-document
examiners. Significant individual characteristics may include the details of formation of
2 3 9 The earliest example in Gerstenberg is found in a facsimile from the autograph
of Joseph Haydn’s Symphony in B-flat, No. 102, composed in 1794; see Gerstenberg,
Musikerhandschriften, Figure 93.
2 4 0 For examples in Purcell and Vivaldi, see Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften,
Figures 22 (Purcell) and 29 (Vivaldi). Both Purcell and Vivaldi also used the uppercase
abbreviations “P” and “F ’; see Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figure 22 (Purcell),
and Wintemitz, Musical Autographs, vol. 2, Plate 19 (Vivaldi).
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287
the individual letters, the connections between them (or lack thereof), and the slant and
relative proportions of the letters. Also significant may be the individual writer’s “scribal
habit”: the abbreviations or variety of abbreviations he or she habitually uses and the
punctuation he or she places at the end of the abbreviation.
The letter “p” as an abbreviation for “piano” may exhibit any of several common
variants. The stem of the letter may be simple, retraced, looped, or resemble the letter
“V” (as it often did in Mozart’s hand). The upper circle of the letter may or may not be
made in a separate stroke, and it may or may not circle back to touch the stem in the lower
arc of its loop. In the abbreviation “pia” the letters may or may not be connected in any
combination. The range of variation is similar for the abbreviation “f.” An “f ’ will
almost always have a hook to the right at the upper end of the stem, and very frequently
a hook to the left at the lower end. The lower hook may be extended upward to as much
as half the height of the entire letter, or even more; this hook may also be turned into a full
loop that creates the crossbar of the “f ’ and possibly serves as the connector to the next
letter in abbreviations such as “fo” or “for.” Even if the crossbar of the “f ’ is made with
a separate stroke, it is quite common for that stroke to be extended to become the
connector to the next letter. The two fs in the abbreviation for “fortissimo” often share
a single crossbar.
Textual score markings
Tempo markings, verbal expression marks (such as “dolce”), and the names of
instruments and characters are all expressed in textual handwriting, but are an integral part
of the musical notation. They are normally written by the same hand as the musical
notation itself (although there are exceptions to this rule). Markings of this sort stand
somewhat apart from the textual handwriting found in vocal texts, in that the handwriting
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288
in textual score markings tends to be larger and more stylized. Uppercase letters, in
particular, often exhibit characteristic flourishes (sometimes quite elaborate ones) that may
help in identifying a particular hand. The uppercase “A” is especially useful because it is
extremely common: it occurs in several of the most common tempo markings, including
“Allegro,” “Andante,” “Adagio,” and so on. Uppercase “V” is also common and often
useful: it occurs in the words “Violino,” “Violini,” “Viola,” “Viole,” “Vivace,” and the
abbreviation “V: S:” (“volti subito” or sometimes “verso subito”), often found in the
lower-right comers of performing parts. In many musical hands of this period, the
uppercase letters “T” and “F ” are often closely related in form: the “F” (in words like
“Flauto”) is often simply a “T” with an added crossbar.
Articulation marking*
In musical manuscripts from the late eighteenth century, articulation marks are
largely limited to slurs, dots, and strokes. The question of what, if any, distinction there
may have been between the latter two will be a subject to which we shall returns several
times in this dissertation, particularly in Chapter 9. There is little in the formation of these
marks that is identifiably personal. However the patterns of their use may be
characteristic of a particular copyist It may be, for example, that one copyist will
habitually write elongated articulation marks (“strokes”) where another, copying the same
music, will write dots.
Miicellaneoua
There remain to be considered a number of miscellaneous symbols that occur
frequently in musical notation, including braces, repeat signs, final double bars, and
indications such as “Col Basso” or “Col Primo” (and their many variants).
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289
A brace (accolade) is a bracket that visually groups two or more staff lines to form
a system. Although a brace helps clarify the layout of the score, its use is not required,
and some composers omit it Joseph Haydn seems regularly to have used a brace to
group together pairs of staff lines in keyboard music and the like, but none of his larger
scores illustrated in Gerstenberg and Wintemitz includes one. At best, as in
Gerstenberg’s facsimiles from the autographs of the String Quartets in B-flat, Op. 71,
No. 1 and C, Op. 74, No. 1, Haydn placed a pair of oblique lines in the margin next to
the cello staff to indicate the division between one system and the next.2 4 1
A brace, when present, may take a variety of forms. It may consist of a simple
single or double vertical line, although these forms are relatively rare in manuscripts, in
contrast to prints (although one occasionally meets with ruled braces in manuscripts).
A brace may also consist of a straight line with inward-facing (or less commonly
outward-facing) hooks at the upper and lower ends (see Figure 3.11). These hooks may
be extended to form full eyelets or loops (as in the facsimile in Gerstenberg from the
autograph of Cimarosa’s II matrimonio segreto), or even more elaborate designs (as at the
lower ends of Alessandro Scarlatti’s braces).2 4 2 A brace may also commonly have
a point or a small eyelet near its center. The placement of this point or eyelet may be
characteristic of an individual hand, as may the use of either a point or eyelet, or both.
Braces are often supplemented by a pair of oblique lines in the margin at the bottom of
each system, to the left of the lowest staff in the system.
2 4 1 Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 89-90.
2 4 2 See Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, figures 83 (Cimarosa) and 26-27
(Scarlatti). For an additional example of an ornamented brace in Scarlatti, see Wintemitz,
Musical Autographs, vol. 2, Plate 17, from La Griselda. Plates 15 and 16 in Wintemitz
illustrate Scarlatti’s use of an unadorned brace to group pairs of lines.
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290
Vivaldi Rameau Gluck Salieri Mozart Beethoven
Figure 3.11
Some forms of the brace.
Braces occasionally take idiosyncratic, and thus strongly identifying forms.
Beethoven consistently drew a brace consisting simply of a straight, slightly oblique
downward stroke terminating in an outward hook. The overall appearance is that of an
elongated “J” without a serif.2 4 3 Wintemitz reproduces a facsimile from the autograph of
Salieri’s Ora fa un secolo (1814) in which the braces grouping pairs of staff lines are
themselves broken into two widely separated parts, the upper one resembling a “C” and
the lower a mirror-image “J.”2 4 4 This highly idiosyncratic form can be regarded as an
identifying characteristic of Salieri’s hand.
Repeat signs normally consist of a double bar flanked by dots or short strokes in the
spaces between staff lines. These dots are placed on one or both sides of the double bar
facing the section or sections to be repeated. Commonly there are either two or four of
these dots or strokes. Where there are two, these are placed in the second and third
2 4 3 See Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 132,133, 135-44, and 146-
57.
2 4 4 Wintemitz, Musical Autographs, vol. 2, Plate 59.
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291
spaces of the staff; where there are four, they occupy every space. Both types were still
in use in the eighteenth century: Gerstenberg reproduces facsimiles illustrating both types
in the autographs of Joseph Haydn.2 4 3 The double bar in a repeat sign may also be
decorated with pairs of oblique lines at its upper and lower ends inclined in the direction
of the section to be repeated.
Final double bars may be plain or decorated. The final double bars of many
professional Viennese copyists are almost always decorated with some sort of flourish.
Tyson rather inaccurately calls these elaborated final double bars “colophons”2 4 6 ; in using
this word—a bibliographer’s term normally referring to an inscription at the end of a book
stating facts relevant to its production—Tyson is probably thinking of the potentially
identifying individuality of many of these flourishes, which sometimes resemble the
abstract flourishes used for the abbreviation of “manu propria” in many eighteenth-
century signatures.2 4 7 However, very few Viennese manuscripts include identifying
marks of any kind after their final double bars (exceptions include Joseph Arthofer,
discussed in Chapter 5, who included his address after the final double bar of one
manuscript in his hand, and Johann Radnitzky, discussed in Chapter 8, who often wrote
his name or initials after the final double bar).
In larger scores, eighteenth-century composers and copyists often used textual
markings to indicate that one or more of the parts were to be doubled by another
instrument These abbreviations therefore made it possible to avoid writing out identical
2 4 5 Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 89 (quadruple strokes in the repeat
sign at the opening of the first movement of the String Quartet in B-flat, Op. 71, No. 1),
and 90 (double strokes in the repeat sign at the beginning of the first movement of the
String Quartet in C, Op. 74, No. 1).
2 4 6 See Tyson, “Beethoven’s Copyists,” 445.
2 4 7 Nickel refers to such a flourish on a signature as a “paraph”; see Nickell,
Detecting Forgery, 36.
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292
sequences of notes. The most common of these markings were “Col Basso” (also
abbreviated “Col B:,” or even with just a simple bass clef in an otherwise blank measure),
and “Col Primo” (also “Col I0 ”,” and other variations). “Col Basso” indicates that the
part so marked was to double the basso line beginning at that point, and that the copyist
should therefore refer to the basso for the notes when copying that portion of the part It
is common, for example, to find the indication “Col Basso” in viola or bassoon parts.
“Col Primo” indicates that the part so marked (commonly a flute or some other treble
instrument) was to double the first violin. Other similar indications were possible: an
oboe part for example, might be marked “Col Flauto."
These indications and abbreviations often developed into highly stylized marks that
bear little resemblance to the letters from which they were originally constituted. Mozart,
for example, frequently used an abbreviation for the word “unisono” to indicate to his
copyists that one part (typically the second violin) was to double another part (typically
the first violin). His abbreviation for “unisono” was “unis.” But even at an early age his
rendering of this abbreviation became so highly stylized as to be virtually unrecognizable
to the uninitiated, somewhat resembling the German word “ich” written in
Kurrentschrift.2 4 8 A later example, from 1788, is shown in Figure 3.12. His
abbreviation for “Col Basso” (indicating that an instrument was to double the bass)
likewise became highly stylized, eventually often appearing as an abstract “CoB.”
2 4 8 For an early example, dating from 1770, see the facsimile of the first page of the
overture to Betulia liberata, in Ludwig Schiedermair, ed., W. A. Mozarts Handschrift. In
zeitlich geordneten Nachbildungen (Biickeburg and Leipzig: C. F. W. Siegel’s
Musikhandlung, 1919), facsimile 12. Mozart’s highly stylized abbreviations for “unis.”
appear in the second violin, in mm. 1 and S.
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293
Figure 3.12
Mozart’s abbreviations for “unisono” and “Col Basso.”
When we investigate any sample of musical handwriting, we will want to record not
only the forms of individual symbols and letters, but also some of the more general
qualities of the handwriting. Is it fluent and confident, or does it exhibit a noticeable
tremor? Tremor may, in musical manuscripts of the eighteenth century, indicate age or
relative inexperience (it rarely indicates forgery). We will also want to note the shading of
strokes, and try to determine what that shading may tell us about the pen position. In
quill-pen writing, vertical strokes made in an upward direction will tend to be extremely
thin. Horizontal and oblique strokes may exhibit a wide and possibly characteristic
variety of shading. In general, we will also want to note the relative and absolute size of
symbols and their components, as well as their proportions, spacing, and slope.
Whenever possible, we will also want to record samples of a composer’s or
copyist’s textual hand, using the methods outlined by questioned-document examiners. If
we have a clear picture of a copyist’s textual hand, we may be able to match it with hands
in archival documents, and we may in this way be able to match a name to a hand.
Viennese copyists typically used two distinct systems of textual handwriting:
Kurrentschrift for German text, and italic for texts in Italian and other languages, such as
French or English. The handwriting examiner will ideally want to record all available
letter forms in both styles of handwriting. It has occasionally been suggested that vocal
texts in the scores of operas were sometimes written by a different hand than the music.
However, I have not come across any persuasive evidence of such a division of labor in
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294
any Viennese scores from the late eighteenth century. In Chapter 10, we shall consider
a score of a Viennese Singspiel in which the musical and textual hands almost certainly
do match.
Viennese “system” style in the eighteenth century
We are now equipped to describe the Viennese system of musical notation in the
eighteenth century. The three most important characteristics of the Viennese system are:
( l) a “4” in a time signature with a double stem; (2) a C clef consisting of three vertical
lines, with two short horizontal lines bracketing the C line between the second and third
of the vertical lines, and a longer “foot” descending obliquely from left to right across the
bottom of the clef; and (3) a bass clef of the “reversed-C” type, consisting of two separate
strokes in a “clamshell” or “pincer” formation, in which the upper arc is typically shorter
than the lower “foot”, and including two dots to the right of the body of the clef (see
Figure 3.4d).2 4 9 A typical hand that includes all three principal characteristics of the
Viennese system style is shown in Figure 3.13. These three forms are found very
frequently (although by no means universally) in the hands of musicians and copyists
trained in and around Vienna in the eighteenth century, and they are rare elsewhere.
Secondary characteristics of the Viennese system (these are almost always present in
Viennese hands, but are also found in hands from other regions) include: (1) some form
of “ampersand” treble clef (in other words, not the abbreviated form found in some North
German hands); (2) a modem eighth rest consisting of an “L” rotated 180°, and a quarter
rest consisting of some variety of the mirror-Z type (in other words, “System 2” as
described earlier in this chapter); (3) a final double bar with a characteristic and
2 4 9 This characterization of the Viennese system of musical notation is based on the
examination of several hundred manuscripts of well-established Viennese provenance,
including manuscripts produced by the shops of Wenzel Sukowaty and Lorenz Lausch.
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C fei /no^ttcnJC
Figure 3.13. A hand illustrating all of the typical characteristics of the Viennese “system” style,
The copyist is Sukowaty 16, in the original performing score of Le nozze di Figaro. A-Wn, KT 315.
296
personalized flourish; and (4) the use of “V: S:” at page turns, rather than some other
indication, such as “Volti.”
We have already seen some exceptions in the localization of the Viennese C clef,
which is also found, for example, in the hands of Berlioz and Glinka. The “Viennese” 4,
with its characteristic double stem, seems to have been used over a somewhat wider
geographical range (for example, in other parts of Austria, or in Hungary, Bohemia, and
Moravia); the matter needs further investigation.
The occurrence of all three principal characteristics of the Viennese system in
a particular sample of handwriting may be taken as strongly suggesting (although it does
not prove) that the person who wrote the manuscript was trained in Vienna. It does not in
itself prove that the particular manuscript was written down in Vienna; Viennese-trained
musicians sometimes traveled to other regions. The absence of any or all of the three
principal indicators of the Viennese system likewise does not prove that the writer was not
trained in Vienna. The crucial point to remember is that the principal and secondary forms
in the Viennese “system” or “copybook” are not individually identifying in themselves.
Rather, these symbols will tend to be identifying only insofar as they depart from or
elaborate upon the normal system form. Let us consider some examples and exceptions
in the hands of several well-known composers trained in Vienna.
Like his brother Joseph, Michael Haydn may have received some rudimentary
musical training at home. However, he received most of his professional training in the
choir school of St. Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna, where he began to sing in the choir
from around 1745, when he was only seven or eight years old. Like his brother, Michael
Haydn was dismissed from the choir when his voice broke, but he probably remained in
Vienna for several years afterward, attempting to make ends meet as a free-lance
musician. He obtained steady employment in 1757 as Kapellmeister to the Bishop of
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297
GroBwardein (now Nagyvarad/Oradea). By this time, around age 20, the characteristics
of his musical handwriting were probably relatively fixed.
A facsimile of the hand of Michael Haydn’s early maturity can be found in
Gerstenberg, taken from the end of the autograph of the Gloria from a Missa soiemnis,
composed in 1758.2 5 0 Of the notational symbols visible in this facsimile (the facsimile
includes no time signature), all are clearly Viennese. The C clef is typically Viennese in
form, as is the bass clef. Treble clef, rests, and final double bar are all consistent with the
Viennese system. Thus we would expect that the musician who wrote this manuscript
was probably trained in Vienna, even if we did not know whose hand it was.
Franz Schubert was bom in Vienna, spent most of his life in the city, and died
there. He received his early musical training from his Moravian-born father and his older
brother Ignaz. From the age of nine or ten he studied with a local organist, Michael
Holzer, and in 1808 he joined the imperial choir, from which point he attended the
kaiserlich-kdnigliches Stadtkonvikt in Vienna. His education, both musical and
otherwise, was thus entirely Viennese.
Facsimiles of Schubert’s hand are readily available. Of these, let us consider two in
Hiirlimann’s collection: the first page of the autograph of the song “Heidenr&slein”
(1815) and the first page of the autograph of the Octet in F, D. 803 (1824).2 5 1 One
immediately notices the Viennese 4 in the time signature of “Heidenroslein”; in fact,
Schubert seems to have written 4s with a double stem throughout his life.2 5 2 His bass
2 5 0 Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figure 100.
2 5 1 HUrlimann, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 1 and 4.
2 5 2 Additional examples of Schubert’s Viennese 4s can be found in Hiirlimann,
Musikerhandschriften, Figure 3 (from the Rondo in A for Piano Four Hands, 1828), and
Wintemitz, Musical Autographs, vol. 2, Plates 97 (“Die Forelle,” 1817 or 1818), and 98
(Rondeau brilliant in B minor for Violin and Piano, 1826). See also the facsimiles in
Maurice J. E. Brown and Eric Sams, “Schubert, Franz,” New Grove, vol. 16, 752-811,
here especially Figure 10,775, the end of the autograph of “Am Meer” and the beginning
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clef, on the other hand, does not show the typical “pincer” form of the Viennese system.
However, his C clef is typically Viennese, consisting of three vertical lines, two short
lines bracketing the C line, and a longer oblique “foot” (see Figure 3.6). All other
characteristics of Schubert’s hand are consistent with Viennese provenance, and once
again we would strongly suspect that his hand was Viennese even if we did not know
whose hand it was.
Although the hands of Michael Haydn and Schubert exhibit most of the principal
characteristics of the Viennese system, many hands that are demonstrably Viennese lack
some or all of these “fingerprints.” Joseph Haydn, like his brother, received all of his
professional musical education in Vienna. However, neither his C clef nor his bass clef
take the form most characteristic of the Viennese system. His normal bass clef is of the
reversed-C or closed type, consisting of a tight, almost closed spiral, and two vertical
lines to the immediate right of the body of the clef, between it and the dots bracketing the
F line. (Haydn’s manner of forming the clef with a flat in the key signature is somewhat
different.)2 3 3 Haydn seems sometimes to have failed to lift the pen between one or more
of the strokes in the bass clef, which therefore sometimes appear to be connected.
Haydn’s C clef normally consists of a pair of vertical lines and a single horizontal line
beneath the C line.2 3 4 Only one of the three principal identifying characteristics of the
of “Der Doppelganger,” (which is in 3/4) from Schwanengesang, and Figure 11,776,
from the first page of the autograph of the String Quartet in G, D. 887. When writing
rapidly, Schubert occasionally connected the two stems of the 4 in such a way that their
distinct identity is sometimes obscured; see especially the autographs of the Rondo in A
for Piano Four Hands, and “Der Doppelganger.”
2 3 3 For Haydn’s bass clef, see any of the facsimiles in Gerstenberg or Wintemitz.
2 3 4 See Gerstenberg, Musikerhandschriften, Figures 90,92, and 94. Haydn
sometimes appears to have made a C clef consisting of a pair of vertical lines and a “V”
rotated 90° clockwise, with its point on the C line; see Gerstenberg, Figure 96. His C
clefs sometimes seem to show a vestige of the upper line of this V.
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299
Viennese system is found in Haydn’s hand: the 4s in his time signatures, which show the
typical double stem.
Ziffer’s Kleinmeister zurZeit der Wiener Klasstk provides facsimiles and analyses
of the musical hands of twenty-five composers, many of whom made their careers in
Vienna during the late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries. Many of these
composers were also bom in Vienna and received their musical training there, but others
were bom elsewhere and came to Vienna only after their training was substantially
complete. The distinction between Viennese natives and non-natives is often visible in the
styles of their musical handwriting. For example, Joseph Eybler (1765-1846) was bom
in Schwechat, just a few miles south of Vienna. He received his training from his father
and from the choir school at S t Stephen’s, later also studying for a time with
Albrechtsberger. Eybler’s hand shows all three principal characteristics of the Viennese
system: the double-stemmed and footed 4, the “Viennese” C clef, and the “pincer” bass
clef. Wenzel MUller (1767-1835) was bom in Moravia near Bmo, a town well within the
cultural orbit of Vienna. He received much of his early musical training in and around
Bmo, but he was engaged as Kapellmeister at the Theater in der Leopoldstadt in Vienna
as early as 1786. Mttller’s hand, as illustrated by Ziffer, shows a Viennese 4 and C-clef,
but not the “pincer” bass clef. By way of contrast, Adalbert Gyrowetz (1763-1850) was
bom in the somewhat more remote town of Ceske Bud&jovice in Bohemia. He received
his early musical education there and in Prague, before coming to Vienna in his early
twenties. Gyrowetz sometimes wrote double-stemmed 4s (although without a “foot”),
but neither his C clef nor his bass clef are Viennese in style.
The hands of other prominent composers associated with Vienna, but not bom or
trained there, often present a similar picture. Gluck, Salieri, and Beethoven all spent the
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greater part of their careers in Vienna, but none of them incorporated any of the principal
characteristics of the Viennese system into their musical handwriting.
Thus the hands of composers trained in Vienna tend to show elements of the
Viennese system, although there are many exceptions. However, one apparent exception
among the composers considered by Ziffer serves to prove (or at least to strengthen) the
rule. The hand that Ziffer identifies as Carl Ditters von Dittersdorfi s does not look at all
Viennese. Indeed, it shows characteristics—such as a treble clef with only a vestigial
stem—that suggest an altogether different geographical provenance (perhaps German).
Yet Dittersdorf was bom in Vienna and received all of his musical training there. As we
have already seen, however, the manuscript that Ziffer identifies as an autograph of
Dittersdorf is almost certainly not. By way of contrast, the hand that Jay D. Lane has
persuasively identified as Dittersdorf s shows two out of the three principal characteristics
of the Viennese system: a double-stemmed 4 in time signatures, and a “Viennese" C clef,
although not a “pincer” bass clef.2 5 5
It may be that the Viennese system of musical notation as outlined here is most
characteristic of the hands of professional copyists in the employ of one or another of the
large copying establishments in Vienna. Most of the hands associated with the shop of
Wenzel Sukowaty show two or three of the principal characteristics of the Viennese
system, as do many of the hands associated with the shop of Lorenz Lausch. The
systematic consistency of the hands associated with Sukowaty, combined with their
2 5 5 See Lane, “The Concertos of Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf,” esp. the facsimiles
on 411-13. The facsimile on 409 (from what is allegedly the autograph score of
Dittersdorf s Harpsichord Concerto in A) also shows a “Viennese” C clef, but the
identification of the hand is less persuasively established. Oddly, Lane makes the claim
that Dittersdorf s hand “look[s] nothing like the hands of professional Viennese copyists”
{op. tit., 383). In fact, it looks a great deal like the hand of a professional Viennese
copyist, at least from the standpoint of the forms used for musical symbols.
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similarity of layout, paper-quality, and ink color tend to give Sukowaty’s scores
a uniform look that suggests a “house style.”
An example: Mozart's mature public musical hand
As an extended example of the method of musical handwriting identification I have
described in this chapter, let us analyze the characteristics of Mozart’s mature public
musical hand in one particular manuscript. I shall do this through a close analysis of the
handwriting in the autograph the String Quartet in G, K. 387, the first of the “Haydn
Quartets,” dated 31 December 1782, which we will treat as a “standard” for Mozart’s
hand.2 5 6
The autograph of K. 387 was, of course, not written down all in one sitting. We
can only estimate how long it actually took Mozart to compose it, and we cannot entirely
rule out the possibility that Mozart’s handwriting may have changed somewhat over the
period of its composition. The appearance of his musical hand might also have varied for
other more transient reasons during that time, perhaps from fatigue, mood, a change in
writing conditions (such as a different desk or altered lighting), or the use of differently
cut quills.
The autograph of K. 387 is written on thirteen leaves comprising four different
paper-types.2 5 7 The entire first movement is written on four leaves of paper with
watermark Tyson 63, found in no other Mozart autograph. The second and third
movements are written on four leaves of paper with watermark Tyson 64, found only in
2 5 6 See the facsimile in Mozart, The Six ‘ Haydn ’ String Quartets.
2 5 7 On the paper-types in the autograph score of K. 387, see Alan Tyson, “Mozart’s
‘Haydn’ Quartets: The Contribution of Paper-Studies,” in Mozart: Studies o f the
Autograph Scores, 82-93, and his introduction to the British Library’s facsimile edition of
the quartets. See also below, Table 3.1.
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this autograph and that of the March in D for Orchestra, K. 408/2. All but one leaf of the
fourth movement is written on a paper-type I shall call 56-IIb (see Table 3.1 at the end of
this chapter), found in the autographs of several works that Mozart finished at the very
end of 1782 and the first months of 1783 (K. 387 is in fact the earliest dated work by
Mozart in which this paper-type appears). The tenth leaf of the autograph of K. 387 (the
second leaf of the fourth movement) seems to present a chronological anomaly. It is
a leaf of paper-type 62-1 (see Table 3.1), a type Mozart seems not to have acquired until
around the middle of 1783, several months after the date written on the autograph of the
quartet The discrepancy between the date on Mozart’s autograph and the apparent date of
Mozart’s acquisition of this paper has led Tyson to suggest that this one leaf was a later
revision of the corresponding passage in K. 387—and indeed, the leaf contains only
eighteen measures, which replace the corresponding passage on the following leaf.2 5 8
For present purposes, we may safely ignore this chronological discrepancy by ignoring
the handwriting on the anomalous leaf in our analysis. Otherwise, the paper-types in the
autograph of K. 387 are consistent with the assumption that Mozart composed the quartet
entirely during the last few months of 1782, although they give us little clear information
about the length of time that it took Mozart to compose it.
My analysis of Mozart’s hand in the autograph of K. 387 will be divided into two
large sections: (A) General characteristics, and (B) Forms. The outline of the analysis is
as follows:
A. General characteristics
1) General appearance
2) System
3) Slant
4) Spacing
5) Placement
2 5 8 Tyson, “Mozart’s ‘Haydn’ Quartets,” 85.
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6) Size and uniformity of size
7) Proportion
8) Shading and pen position
Forms
1)
Clefs
2) Time signatures
3) Rests
4) Accidentals and key signatures
5) Notes
6) Dynamics
7) Textual score markings
8) Other symbols
This general outline is quite similar to those of Dadelsen and Ziffer, discussed earlier in
this chapter. However, my analysis under each heading will be much more thorough,
and I shall attempt to show how we may begin to develop a precise vocabulary for the
description of musical symbols.
General characteristics
Mozart’s handwriting in the autograph of K. 387 is rapid and precise, but not
fussy. The musical notation itself gives the impression of being relatively small. The
system of writing appears to be South German. As has been pointed out, Mozart’s hand
strongly resembles that of his father Leopold, who was bom and raised in Augsburg.
The slant of Mozart’s vertical strokes (the stems and bar lines) varies, depending on
whether the strokes are ascending or descending. Mozart seems normally to have drawn
his bar lines with a descending stroke. These strokes are on average inclined
approximately 5° to the left of the vertical axis (where the vertical axis is taken to be
perpendicular to the staff lines).2 5 9 The slant of Mozart’s bar lines varies from roughly 0°
(exactly vertical reladve to the staff) to approximately 10’ to the left of the vertical axis.
For example, on the first page of the first movement of the autograph of K. 387 (lr), the
2 5 9 By convention, angles are measured to the left or right of an imaginary vertical
line that intersects the stroke at its lowest point.
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bar line at the end of measure 3 in the cello is inclined 10s to the left of the vertical axis.
Mozart’s bar lines in this manuscript seem seldom if ever to be inclined at a greater angle,
and they seem never to be inclined to the right of the vertical axis. The bar lines are
occasionally slightly curved, but this quality does not significantly affect the measurement
of the angles.
As one would expect, Mozart seems also normally to have written his descending
stems with downward strokes. The slant of Mozart’s descending stems is quite variable,
ranging from 10° to the left to 10’ to the right of the vertical axis (the latter is found, for
example, in the dotted quarter and eighth at the end of measure 1 in the second violin). In
one extreme case, the d in the cello on the third beat of the last measure of the second
system of 2r (m. 65), the descending stem is inclined slightly more than 20° to the right of
the vertical axis. Because of this wide variation, it is not the slope perse, but rather the
range o f variation in the slope of descending stems that is personally characteristic of
Mozart’s hand in this manuscript This variation does not seem to depend in any
consistent way upon whether the descending stem has a flag attached to it (on single
eighth notes in this manuscript Mozart typically writes both his ascending and
descending stems and their flags in a single uninterrupted movement). Mozart’s
descending stems are often somewhat bowed, particularly if they have a flag.
Mozart’s ascending stems are typically made with an upward stroke of the pen. As
with the descending stems, the ascending stems show a relatively wide range of variation
in slant, from roughly 10’ to the left of the vertical axis (on the third quarter note of m. 10
in the second violin) to about 10’ to the right of the vertical axis. Inclination to the right
seems somewhat more common for single notes with flags, and inclination to the left for
notes connected by beams. The variability of the slant in Mozart’s stems, in combination
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with the relatively consistent leftward inclination of his bar lines, plays a large role in the
overall visual impression of a page of music in Mozart’s hand.
Mozart’s musical notation is rather more closely spaced than one normally finds in
scores written by professional Viennese music copyists, such as those who worked for
the Sukowaty shop. The most likely explanation for this closer spacing is that Mozart,
who usually paid for his own paper, attempted to write as much music on a page as
would be consistent with legibility. Sukowaty’s copyists, who were paid by the Bogen
(and who were probably either provided with paper or had the cost of paper taken into
account in their per-Bogen rate), would have been inclined to write as expansively as they
could get away with.
Mozart typically wrote clefs only at the beginnings of movements, and wherever
there was a change of clef. In the autograph of K. 387, he normally wrote his treble clefs
in such a way that the curve of the clef (the “body”) fits more or less precisely within the
upper and lower lines of the staff. Occasionally, the body of the clef may extend slightly
above or below the staff (as, for example, do the treble clefs at the beginning of the
minuet). The stem of Mozart’s treble clef always descends below the staff, and the “hip”
of the clef (the portion of the curve to the left of the stem) normally hangs into the margin,
past the end of the staff line. (Another way of saying this is that the stem of the treble clef
is normally written more or less precisely at the left end of the staff, or just slightly to the
right of it.)
The vertical lines of Mozart’s C clefs in the autograph of K. 387 typically extend
just slightly above and below the upper and lower lines of the staff. The vertical line
furthest to the left is typically written more or less precisely at the extreme left end of the
staff. Mozart’s bass clefs in this manuscript are all contained within the bounds of the
upper and lower lines of the staff. The top of the curve of the bass clef typically touches
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the uppermost line of the staff. The lowest point of the curve sometimes touches the
lowest line, but sometimes reaches only to the fourth line or slightly below it The bass
clef is written very close to the left end of the staff, usually without extending into the
margin. The vertical components of the braces in Mozart’s autograph are typically placed
several millimeters to the left of the end of the staves, thus leaving a noticeable gap. As
Wolfgang Plath has pointed out, the braces in Mozart’s autographs rarely if ever pass
through the bass clefs, whereas such intersections often occur in the hand of Mozart’s
father.2 6 0
In the first and fourth movements of the autograph of K. 387, the Cs of Mozart’s
common time and cut-time signatures are all well within the staff (see Ir and 9r). The
lowest point of the curve generally does not descend below the fourth line. The
uppermost point of the curve sometimes reaches the top line, but occasionally reaches
only to the second line. The upper number (3) of the numerical time signatures in the
second and third movements extends above the top line of the staff, and the lower number
(4) extends below it (see 4v, Sv, and 6v).
Mozart’s placement of eighth and quarter rests seems to vary depending on the
relative placement of the surrounding notes. Several examples can be seen on Ir of the
autograph of K. 387. The eighth rest at the end of the fourth measure of the first violin
crosses the third line of the staff; it follows immediately after an eighth note b'. The
eighth rest at the end of the sixth measure of the second violin, on the other hand, crosses
above the top line of the staff: it follows immediately after an eighth note g2 in that part.
The eighth rest on the last beat of bar 24 of the second violin intersects the lowest line of
the staff; this rest is situated between the notes c t and a.
2 6 0 Plath, “Beitrage zur Mozart- Autographie I,” 90-91.
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Because the present analysis of Mozart’s hand is based on a facsimile of the
autograph of K. 387, rather than on an examination of the autograph itself, caution must
be exercised in making any references to absolute measurements. The British Library
facsimile does not specify whether the reproduction is 100 percent, slightly reduced, or
slightly enlarged. However, the dimensions of the sheets as depicted in the facsimile are
roughly 31 x 23 centimeters, closely in accord with the typical size of a leaf of oblong-
format royal music paper from northern Italy (see the discussion of the size and format of
music paper later on in this chapter). Thus we may cautiously refer to the absolute
measurements of the components of Mozart’s handwriting in this facsimile with
a reasonable expectation that the measurements of the original will not vary by more than
a fraction of a millimeter.2 6 1
Mozart’s natural signs are usually at least the height of the staff, and often extend
above and below it. In the British Library facsimile of the autograph of K. 387, the
staves average 7 to 7.5 mm in height, whereas Mozart’s naturals average 10 to 12 mm in
height, regardless of their placement on the staff.
Mozart’s solid noteheads in the autograph of K. 387 are very small, averaging
roughly 1 millimeter in diameter (the noteheads are usually slightly oblong, but this
elongation in one dimension does not significantly affect the measurements given here).
His open noteheads, on the other hand, are much larger, averaging approximately 1.5 to
2 mm in diameter, measured from the inner rim of the notehead, and approximately
3 mm measured from the outer rim. This proportion of 3:1 between open and solid
noteheads is consistent.
2 6 1 There is a slight discrepancy between the total span of lr as measured in the
facsimile (181 mm) and Tyson’s total span for this paper type (183 mm). This
discrepancy may suggest that the facsimile is slightly reduced in size relative to the
original (on the order of 1%).
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The stems of Mozart’s individual quarter notes vary in length from approximately
4.3 to as much as 9 mm, although the average seems to be around 5 to S.S mm for both
ascending and descending stems (stems of quarter notes are measured from the center of
the notehead, since notehead and stem are typically made in a single stroke).
Exceptionally long stems seem mainly to occur on quarter notes with descending stems,
where the noteheads are written at the top of or above the staff. The average length of the
stems of half notes seems to be roughly in accord with that of the stems of the quarter
notes. The absolute length of the stems on Mozart’s beamed notes may of course vary
considerably according to the relative configuration of the noteheads to which the stems
are attached.
The ratio of the length of the flags on Mozart’s eighth notes to the lengths of the
stems varies to some degree. However, the flags on ascending and descending stems are
very often extended back to the level of the notehead (in other words, the flag and stem
are roughly the same length). The flags rarely extend beyond the notehead and are
sometimes much shorter than the stems. Short flags seem to occur more often on
ascending stems than on descending ones.
As we have previously noted, Mozart’s upward strokes are extremely thin,
a characteristic typical of quill-pen writing. His descending strokes are also thin,
although they may show some broadening near the notehead and toward the lower end of
the stroke. This broadening at the lower end is particularly evident in the bar lines of the
autograph of K. 387. Mozart’s horizontal and oblique strokes—beams, slurs, the
segments of open noteheads, and the crossbars of sharps—are generally much thicker
than the vertical strokes. Oblique lines descending from left to right at an angle of
approximately 10a or more above the horizontal axis seem to be the thickest; in the British
Library facsimile, some beams of this type may be up to 1.5 mm wide, contrasting with
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an average of around .5 mm in width for beams that ascend from left to right. This
distinction is perhaps best seen as a rule of thumb, as there are numerous exceptions of
relatively thin beams descending from left to right, and relatively thick ones ascending
from left to right.
Earlier in this chapter, I cited Nickell’s characterization of the typical patterns of
shading produced by nib pens held in various positions relative to the writing surface.
The characteristics of Mozart’s shading would seem to suggest that he held his pen at an
angle to the plane of the paper (rather than vertically), and with the tip pointing toward
a direction of between 10 and 11 o’clock.2 6 2
Forma
Because Mozart normally wrote clefs only at the beginnings of movements, the
sample of clefs available in the autograph of K. 387 is relatively small: there are ten treble
clefs, five C clefs, and five bass clefs. Mozart’s treble clef is of the ampersand type. The
peak of the clef forms a loop. The lower body of the curve crosses the stem near the
bottom of the staff, and then curves upward, but does not meet the stem at the end of the
curve. The stem of the clef is an elongated “S” curve, with a pronounced leftward hook
at its lower end. The hook extends well below the bottom of the body of the clef, and
below the staff. Mozart appears to have begun to draw his treble clefs from the end of the
hook on the stem. Although the basic form of the clef is consistent, it shows a great deal
of variety in the details of its shape and proportions. In particular, the loop formed by the
peak of the clef sometimes almost disappears (as, for example, in the treble clefs at the
opening of the Andante cantabile, 6v). In one case (the clef at the opening of the second
2 6 2 Nickell, Detecting Forgery, 38. This pen position would seem to suggest that
Mozart was right-handed.
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violin part in the Minuet, 4v) the hook at the lower end of the stem extends so far upward
that it touches the lower part of the hip of the clef.
As we have seen, Mozart’s C clef consists of two pairs of vertical lines, with two
short horizontal strokes bracketing the C line in the gap between the pairs. In the
autograph of K. 387, these horizontal lines do not touch the vertical ones on either side,
but both generally do touch the third staff line. The four vertical lines of the clef are
almost exactly perpendicular to the staff lines (those in the C clef at the beginning of the
Trio are inclined just 2°-3° to the left of the vertical axis; see 5v). The vertical lines are
also sometimes slightly bowed. All four are roughly the same length, but seldom exactly
so. They often but not invariably extend slightly above or below the staff.
Mozart’s bass clef in the autograph of K. 387 is a “C” type in the form of a partial spiral.
The clef begins with a pronounced dot on the F line or sometimes just below it. As
I have already pointed out, the bass clef normally fills the entire space between the top
and bottom staff lines, without extending beyond them.2 6 3 The clef is completed by two
small dots bracketing the F line.
The time signatures in the autograph of K. 387 include four common time
signatures, twelve 3/4 signatures (four each at the beginnings of the Minuet, Trio, and
Andante cantabile), and four cut-time signatures. The “C” in Mozart’s signatures for
common and cut time seems almost invariably to have been formed of two separate
strokes: a lower semicircle, and a separate shorter upper arc. This separation of strokes
is particularly evident in the cut-time signatures at the beginning of the last movement
(9r). The lower part of the lower curve is usually strongly shaded. The stem of the cut
2 6 3 The bass clef at the beginning of the trio is an exception in that it fills only the
space between the top staff line and the third space.
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time signature usually has the form of a very elongated “S,” and extends above and below
the staff.
The 3s in the numerical time signatures are always strongly inclined to the left of
vertical. If we imagine a line drawn through the midpoints of the “humps” of the 3, the
inclination of this line relative to a line perpendicular to the staff ranges from a minimum
of 20° to the left of the vertical axis (in, for example, the time signatures of the viola and
cello at the opening of the trio) to a maximum of 50s to the left of the vertical axis (in the
time signatures of the first and second violins at the opening of the Andante cantabile on
6v). The average inclination of the 3s in the autograph of K. 387 is between 30° and 40*
to the left of the vertical axis.
The 4s in the time signatures of the autograph of K. 387 all have single stems (in
other words, they are not typically Viennese in form), and are open at the top. There is
no eyelet at the junction of the arm and the crossbar of the four. The stem of the 4 usually
extends below the bottom of the staff, and the crossbar often sits on the fifth line. The
crossbar is sometimes, but not always, inclined above the horizontal axis at an angle of
30’ to 40° (see the 4s in the time signatures at the beginning of the Minuet), but it is
sometimes almost exactly horizontal.
For his rests Mozart uses “System 2,” in which the eighth rest consists, in its most
basic form, of an “L” rotated 180°, and the quarter rest consists of a mirror-image “Z”
(highly modified, in Mozart’s case). Mozart’s quarter rests are elongated, curved, and
rather flat in their overall aspect, so that they usually resemble an S inclined strongly to
the right of the vertical axis. The lowest segment of the quarter rest is normally the most
strongly shaded. Mozart’s eighth rests usually lack a sharp angle, but are instead made in
a single and gentle curve that is most strongly shaded at the top. However, Mozart’s
eighth rests show a relatively high degree of variability.
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Mozart’s sharps are normal in form. The pair of vertical lines may be inclined
anywhere from 10° to the left of the vertical axis to 10* to the right (the same range of
variation as shown by the stems of his notes). The vertical lines are normally parallel, but
are sometimes slightly bowed. The pair of horizontal lines is most commonly inclined
downward left to right, at an angle of approximately 30* above the horizontal axis. This
angle varies, however the horizontal lines may be close to exactly horizontal, or (rarely)
even ascend from left to right
Mozart’s flats resemble a lowercase letter ub,” rounded at the bottom, in which the
curve of the letter does not extend back to the stem (in other words, the flat is “open”).
The top of the stem typically, although not invariably, includes a small hook to the left,
suggesting that Mozart began the pen stroke at that point. The end of the curve of the
body of the flat sometimes has a slightly thickened point (what document examiners
sometimes call a “blunt”),2 6 4 or even a small eyelet where the pen was stopped and
removed from the paper. The stems in Mozart’s flats range from exactly perpendicular to
20* to the right of the vertical axis. The peculiarities of Mozart’s key signatures have
already been discussed earlier in this chapter, and play no role in the autograph of K. 387
in any case.
Mozart generally drew his quarter and eighth notes in a single stroke, without lifting
the pen from the paper (except when he needed to add ledger lines). The descending
stems of his quarter notes are almost always attached to the left sides of the noteheads,
and ascending stems to the right sides. Exceptions to this rale often indicate that a note
has been altered in some way (as, for example, the quarter-note g‘ in the first measure of
the second violin of the first movement of K. 387, where the stem extends upward from
2 6 4 See Bradford and Bradford, Handwriting Examination, 151.
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the middle of the notehead, to which it is not quite securely attached). Mozart drew his
single eighth notes in one uninterrupted stroke, but otherwise it is difficult to generalize
about them because of their wide variety of forms and orientations. Rags may extend
back to the level of the notehead or they may be extremely short. The “shoulder” between
stem and flag is most often curved, but may be pointed. The stems themselves, as we
have seen, may vary widely in their inclination to the vertical axis.
Mozart’s half notes in the autograph of K. 387 are almost always formed from two
separate strokes. For half notes with ascending stems, he first drew the bottom half of
the notehead, extending the curve upward to form the stem—in other words, he drew an
elongated “J,” beginning at the lower end (see Rgure 3.10a). He then added a small arc
for the upper portion of the notehead. For half notes with descending stems he first drew
the lower half of the notehead, continuing the same stroke with an abrupt change of
direction downward from the right side of the notehead to make the descending stem. He
then added the upper arc of the notehead. Occasional exceptions to these patterns may
indicate revisions or corrections.
Mozart’s whole notes in the autograph of K. 387 seem generally to consist of two
separate strokes: an upper and lower semicircle. However, these strokes often meet, and
it is sometimes difficult to determine from the facsimile whether or not a given note was
actually formed from separate strokes.
Dynamic markings in the autograph of K. 387 include abbreviations for “piano,”
“forte,” “pianissimo,” “sforzando,” “crescendo,” and “decrescendo” (which are also
sometimes written out in full), and one hairpin decrescendo. He also uses the
abbreviation “fp:” (usually interpreted as a “sforzando” followed by an immediate
“piano”).
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Mozart uses the abbreviations “pia:” and “p:” for “piano.” It is not clear whether
there is any pattern to his use of these two abbreviations. One might guess that he used
the shorter abbreviation when space was limited, but this seems not to be the reason.
Mozart’s lowercase “p” in these dynamic markings characteristically begins with
a downward initial stroke, after which the pen is drawn upwards to form the stem of the
letter. The change of direction from the initial downward stroke to the stem may be either
pointed or curved. The initial stroke usually begins below the baseline (the imaginary line
on which the body of the letter rests). Where Mozart was writing rapidly, this initial
stroke sometimes begins far below the baseline and the change in direction is curved,
giving an idiosyncratic appearance that is quite characteristic of Mozart’s hand. The body
of the letter is written as a continuation of the same stroke from which the stem is formed.
In the abbreviations “pia:,” the “p” is ordinarily connected to the “i” by means of an eyelet
at the bottom of the body of the “p” and a connecting stroke. Mozart almost always lifts
the pen before writing the final “a.” The abbreviations almost always conclude with
a colon, although the two dots may run together in hasty writing. Mozart’s abbreviation
for “pianissimo” in this score is quite characteristic in its formation: he uses the normal
abbreviation “pp:,” but the initial downstroke of the second “p” is directly connected to
the lower part of the curve of the body of the first “p” through a sharp angle (see, for
example, 5r, third system, measure 4, first violin).
In the autograph of K. 387, Mozart employs the abbreviations “for” and “f:” for
“forte.” The abbreviation “for” appears in three different forms, depending on the way
the initial “f ’ is written. In the first form, the “f” has leftward hooks at both the upper and
lower ends of the stem. In the second form, the “f ’ has a rightward hook at its upper
end, and no hook at the bottom of the stem. A third form has a rightward hook at the
upper end of the stem and a leftward one at the lower end. In all three forms, the crossbar
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