Musical Life in Europe 1600-1900

English version

 

Peter SCHLEUNING

 

Changes in the conditions, aims and effects of composing from the early eighteenth to the early nineteenth centuries.

 Originalfassung

 

Translation by Gwendolyn V. Tietze, revisions by Dr Michael Fend.

 

The ten points do not stand in logical parallel to each other, but are hierarchically related in many ways. Each point is illustrated by some examples, summarising the factors of change, illustrating only the most salient points in the musical and social movements. In this way these points are intended to highlight main tendencies and to stimulate discussion. They can be grouped into two lots of five; the groups are related to each other but can be divided into more practical and more ideological aspects respectively.

 

 

  1. In service and "free"

  2. Copyright

  3. Standardisation of genres and orchestras

  4. The "work" prevails over the musicians

  5. The conductor takes the composer’s role in performance

  6. The composer as a public person

  7. Self-portrayal and poetic ideas [Poetisierung]

  8. The "creator" and the religiosity of the work; individualisation of form

  9. Relationship with the public, the composer as messenger

  10. Changes in the notions of nature and beauty

 

 

1. In service and "free"

The traditional view names Johann Baptist Vanhal as the first "free" composer, in 1780. This statement, however, fails to take into account that such a position existed long before, as for example in the case of autonomous entrepreneurs such as Handel. The transition to the "free" composer is fluid and cannot be tied to a particular person or year, not least because composers in permanent employment, like Telemann for example, were half - "free" and explored the possibilities of freelance work, carving out new paths for their successors. Also, so-called "free" composers like Mozart and Beethoven were not "free" by their own choice and hoped during their whole lives to gain permanent employment, without ever attaining such a position for any length of time. Furthermore certain conditions were necessary – but rarely met – before an active step into "freedom" could be taken at all: the composer had to have a reputation strong enough for him to dispense with city or court employment. A prime example here is Haydn’s engagement in London. ‘By dint of a new contract’ with the London impresario, Haydn did not comply with his employer’s command to return. In his letter to Frau von Genzinger in 1791, he formulates his thoughts about this decision in a way that perfectly summarises the whole development into a free market:

 

‘How sweet this bit of freedom really is! […] Now I have it in some measure. I appreciate the good sides of all this, too, though my mind is burdened with far more work. The realization that I am no bond-servant makes ample amends for all my toils. […] And now, unfortunately, I expect my dismissal, whereby I hope that God will give me the strength to make up for this loss, at least partly, by my industry.’1

 

This citation might give rise to a definition of a freelance composer: a free composer lives on teaching, revenue from performances and publishers, or – if he is, as often, his own publisher – from the sale of sheet music. There are, however, two kinds of objections to be levelled against such a definition: first, the underdeveloped copyright meant that the revenue from concerts was extremely scarce, unless a composer – like Haydn – was fully employed for one season, or if he performed his own works, as a touring virtuoso, for example. A glance at Richard Wagner shows the second objection. According to the above criteria, he would not qualify as a "free" composer, since he could at most fulfil one of the named conditions; without the support of Otto Wesendonck or King Ludwig II he could never have achieved success. One could call Wagner "free" through chance or in his own words ‘an unfree free.’ A comparison between a "free" composer and a business entrepreneur is thus not without contradictions and highlights the problem of finding a reasonably useful definition of "free."

 

Until recently, many major and minor composers of "serious" music were in permanent employment, though not exclusively living off their salaries (Mahler, Strauss). Perhaps a definition should be conditional upon whether the composer writes his main works for the place and organisation of his employment – like Bach for example – or not. This aspect seems indeed to have changed significantly over time, since, even if employed, the new "free" composers mainly wrote for the market. The development and opening-up of this market, and the consequent development of a public of listeners, players and buyers of music are undoubtedly decisive aspects in the development of the "free" composer. A consideration of the composer and his compositions in isolation is unlikely to illuminate the conditions of the birth of the free composer.

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2. Copyright

These sidelines, as we would call them today, not only opened up new artistic possibilities for composers in permanent employment – as "part-freedom", so-to-speak – but they also allowed composers to secure extra earnings, which, in the case of Haydn or Telemann, could even exceed their main income. Their sidelines also forced composers to be particularly active in securing and maximising their income. In the first place, this stimulates the effort to gain international (but also, again with Telemann, national) copyright. The internationalisation of the market required efforts which, long after Telemann’s time, remained the private business of composers. Beethoven’s efforts in this direction are well known: he warned against foreign pirate copies through newspaper and magazine advertisements; he did so, however, not on a legal basis, but merely pointed out typographical errors and the absence of his authorisation for the copies. National agreements or laws were rare and not far-reaching enough. Composers looked, for a variety of reasons, with admiration and envy towards France and the decisions and prescriptions of the French Revolutionary government. Already in the first years after 1789, they declared the revenue of all printed matter the property of the author in conjunction with the publisher. This however did not include performance rights, which were only enforced much later.

 

In 1801, Beethoven lamented his problems with the situation in the German counties and proposed a new scheme, parallel to the French project of a collective Magasin publique. His idea anticipated comparable projects of today, such as the Verlag der Autoren or other projects of post-68; his project, however, was superior as regards its international outlook:

 

‘There ought to be in the world a market for art where the artist would only have to bring his works and take as much money as he needed. But, as it is, an artist has to be to a certain extent a business man as well, and how can he manage to be that!’2

 

The constraint and hardship faced by the "free" composer are perfectly described here: he has to be entrepreneur and artist at the same time.

 

Publishers’ royalties were just as little regulated as copyright. They were established through long-winded agreements and hard negotiations from both sides. Beethoven again serves as an example; he, like Haydn, had the advantage of having public renommé which could result in fourfold revenue from a single work, even beyond the rights of authorship:

 

The envisaged dedicatee – in the case of the Eroica symphony the prince Lobkowitz – paid an agreed sum for the possession of the handwritten performance material. In case of the Eroica, this was 400 guilders for the first half year, after renewal another 700 guilders. This was a lucrative but also a delicate enterprise, since there was only the verbal agreement that no material would be copied – a special case of copyright. Furthermore, the prince allowed a freely chosen sum for the dedication. For the Eroica this was a present of 80 gold ducats, which meant at least another 360 guilders. Then followed semi-official performances and finally the first public performance (7. April 1805); all were apparently well attended and lucrative for the composer, partly because he also conducted the work himself. Finally came negations with publishers: first with Simrock in 1803 who was to pay 450 guilders, then after the collapse of these negotiations with Härtel who offered 700 guilders for the Eroica symphony together with the Waldstein Sonata and the Appassionata, before being dropped by Beethoven. Considering that, in the previous year, Beethoven had set a piano sonata at 20 ducats, i.e. 90 guilders, the symphony would have brought him at least 500 guilders from Härtel. But apparently it could yield even more elsewhere, since the ultimately successful "Wiener Kunst- und Industrie-Comptoir", brought in during the last stages of negotiations with Härtel, undoubtedly offered more and ultimately published the symphony in 1806.

 

All in all, including earnings from the preview performances and the first performance, Beethoven would have earned around 2500 guilders from the Eroica symphony, as a result of his patient tactics. For, in 1804, Beethoven had wanted 2000 guilders from Härtel for 6 works including the Eroica saying that he was ‘prepared to lose something’ for a quick settlement; yet subsequently he was not in a hurry at all.

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3. Standardisation of genres and orchestras

The gradual ascent of the composer towards entrepreneurship and the development of an internationalised market encouraged further measures: on the one hand it fostered the standardisation of the cast of the orchestra, albeit not of its size, so that the pieces could be performed in any country, thanks to a gradual standardisation of the groupings of instruments. On the other hand, genres became more standardised with regard to the succession and construction of movements, so that the public could prepare itself for pieces with titles such as "Sinfonie" and "Rondo" and could thus be incited to attend concerts or buy sheet music.

 

This development fits into the rise of branded goods on the expanding anonymous market, both with regard to recognition value and the quality brand name. A comparison between the name "Bach" and the genre "Cantata" around 1730 and "Beethoven" and "Symphony" around 1815 clarifies the changes. "Beethoven" and "Symphony" merge into a fixed global term, applicable to the whole of Europe. Now the different genres have a certain market value; composers assess this value in the course of their work and calculate it in advance of negotiations with publishers. In 1801, Beethoven offered his opus 20, 21 and 22 – the septet, first symphony and piano sonata – to the publisher Hoffmeister for 90 guilders each, explaining that:

 

‘I find that a septet or a symphony does not sell as well as a sonata. That is the reason why I do this, although a symphony should undoubtedly be worth more.’3

 

In later negotiations, when his fame as a composer of symphonies had spread, he acts differently: the symphony as luxury brand should also make the most money.

 

The composer has to estimate his chances and risks with regard to the new, anonymous public, he has to produce his works with regard to their presumed value to experts and enthusiasts. He might even have to employ or change certain genres with regard to his respective audiences. He brings his pieces on to the market in this novel situation of competition and anonymity, and he has to be able to perceive prospects of concert attendance and purchase of music. He has to conduct his market research himself, with the risk of bankruptcy.

 

Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach provides a few good examples from the early stages of these new phenomena.

 

For one thing, ‘nach dem jetzigen Schlendrian’, he started the production of rondos and sonatas with one accompanying instrument, genres that were still scorned by connoisseurs. He ironically but revealingly explains that he ‘finally had to appear young.’ Furthermore he adapted the style of his free fantasias, a ‘not very lucrative’ genre for connoisseurs he had included in the six Keyboard Collections "für Kenner und Liebhaber" from the fourth issue in 1783 onwards. In view of decreasing sales figures for the subsequent volumes, he gradually changed the free fantasias to a Rondo-like smoothness and simplicity. These adaptations were not caused by a general change of style by C.P.E. Bach, but were exclusively motivated by economic considerations: His last fantasia, in f sharp minor, which was not intended for publication, is just as capricious and erratic as his early fantasias.

 

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4. The "work" prevails over the musicians

The composers’ measures mentioned so far were essentially limited to the communication between producer and recipient, be he listener, buyer or publisher; they are focused on the new anonymous, abstract mass of people. Another action taken by the composer is orientated towards very specific people, namely the performers of his works that present them to the European public. Another particularly significant transformation takes place in this respect: musicians are excluded from the co-production of the work, taken for granted before, when the composition was understood as the matrix for spontaneous additions in form of essential and arbitrary "mannerisms." Now musicians are interpreters rather than co-producers, players of something pre-determined; they become, so to speak, musical readers without the competence to invent or add anything themselves. Again, this phenomenon forms part of the process of internationalisation and standardisation; in this way, the pieces should, cum grano salis, sound in Madrid the same as in Leipzig. This aim is achieved through a sharp increase of performance instructions – see for example the "Probestücke" in Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach’s Versuch ! – and even through metronome-indications for the pieces, which Beethoven publishes in 1813, for example, intending

 

‘to make sure that [they are] performed everywhere in the appropriate tempo that had so often been missed before.’ (AMZ)

 

In 1826, giving his reasons for the metronome indications in a letter to Schott, he addresses the individualisation of works of art:

 

‘In our century such indicators are certainly necessary. Moreover I have received letters from Berlin informing me that the first performance of the symphony was received with enthusiastic applause, which I ascribe largely to the metronome markings. We can scarcely have tempi ordinari any longer, since one must fall into line with the ideas of unfettered genius.’4 – NB: the "unfettered"!

 

Berlioz was taken aback to hear the oboist of the Hechinger Kapelle adding ornamentations to his works.

 

This restriction, even subjugation, of a productive profession is a revolution so great that it is hardly imaginable today. The dispute between musicians taking the old or the new stance could even lead to violence – so for example 1731 at the court of Arolsen. The transformation is well illustrated in the dispute between Scheibe and Birnbaum, Bach’s spokesman, in the Critischer Musikus from 1737 onwards. Scheibe speaks out in favour of the creativity of the musicians, criticising Bach for writing out all "mannerisms", whereas Birnbaum defends this measure as a protection for the "honour" of the composer. Otherwise, he argues, bad ornamentations could be taken for mistakes by the composer.

 

The composer thus becomes the sole ruler over the sounding music, and the path towards the individualisation of the music, the increasing focus of music away from a social interplay towards a single person takes its course. There is an obvious parallel with the fate of the family as productive unity, as well as with the fate of the old-style rural and trade co-operation: The family is increasingly divided into the husband as the bread-winner and the wife who takes care of household and children; rural economy moves towards the individualisation and proletarisation of the industrial work-force under a single factory owner.

 

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5. The conductor takes the composer’s role in performance

The composer gradually withdraws from his formerly relatively common role of performer, and turns into a magician behind the scenes. He is unmistakably present only through his sounds, as the holy spirit is present in the entire world. Whereas in earlier times the composer usually sat at the harpsichord to direct the performance together with the leader, this chair now remains empty and soon disappears altogether. Of course the decline of the thorough-bass has much to do with the change of style and composition. But it is also a sign of the disappearance of the manufacturer of the musical work into the realm of ideas and thoughts. It is absurd to imagine Berlioz sitting at the harpsichord to accompany his idée fixe, but this very well illustrates the transition between the epochs.

 

But the composer, who has already prevented the musicians from being co-producers of his works, cannot leave them alone with his music and performance instructions. When he does not conduct himself, he appoints the conductor as a deputy, who has to implement the composer’s orders and has to rule over their proper execution. The conductor is the composer’s tool, his deputy on earth, as the general is for the commander.

 

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6. The composer as a public person

The centring of composing and of the composition on the person of the composer is not restricted to practical aspects and to transformations of genres. It also extends to the content of the works: the identity of the individual breaks the schematic and typified aspect of older pieces, in favour of an individualistic self-expression. The citation of Beethoven above already addresses this aspect. Since the Sturm und Drang and similar movements the affective language of music becomes increasingly radicalised. With it comes the need of the producer of works of art – since Shaftesbury he is ‘a second maker’ – to "express" his "self", his "Ichheit", as it was then called; he is expected to put himself and his own state of mind into focus before the public.

 

Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique is the most extreme example here. The whole programme of the piece is the "creator" who presents himself to his audience; in this way he becomes a public star just like the great virtuosos on the podium. Therefore it seems safe to say that the emerging discrepancies between the traditionalists of "absolute" music and the programme – musicians were not only based on aesthetic issues, but the two sides also had differing views of the relationship between composer and public: on the one side there was the composer who retreated back from the work after the act of composition – in the sense of Nicolaus Listernius’ opus perfectum et absolutum – the traditional stepping back to behind the score , after Beethoven exemplified by Schubert, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Brahms and Bruckner. On the other side there was the effective presentation of one’s own personality as a stage-appearance, whether physically as a real person or in the programme of the music, and in the case of the virtuoso-stars, partly the composer in combination with the virtuoso (after Berlioz mainly Liszt, Wagner or Mahler).

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7. Self-portrayal and poetic ideas [Poetisierung]

Those two aspects are also apparent in the widening of the public image of the composer, his improved education and his open addresses to the public in writing. The composer rises from quasi-craftsman to intellectual and brilliant man of the world, as can be seen in his published texts on music. He not only writes the programme of programme-music, but also writes on issues of musical aesthetics – as Schumann, Liszt, Wagner, for example – or novelistic texts as Weber, or even texts about general political topics as Wagner. Here music caught up with other art forms where literary work had been possible for a long time. Music, the art of the masses expressing the unconscious, also takes hold of the consciously presented thought: the composer becomes author, as such going beyond the genres in which he was active before, namely compositional theory and musical aesthetics.

 

This development is aided by the demand of the German romantics to break down the barriers between the individual art forms, and to create an integrated work of art in the sense of "Universalpoesie." Musical production is poeticised, so to speak: compositions are invested with linguistic or linguistically-defined content and significance. This is one of the triggers of the rise of the composer towards the educated artist who also presents his education outside music. The paradigmatic example of this conflation of musical and political pronouncements is Wagner’s "Das Judenthum in der Musik."

 

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8. The "creator" and the religiosity of the work; individualisation of form.

As the individualisation of the musical work takes root and religion loses its appeal, and with the tendency of the romantics to favour instrumental music as "sacred", the composer as ‘second maker’ increasingly acquires traits of an quasi-god. The new challenge for the audience is now to follow this quasi-god by way of solving his riddles and deciphering these listening tasks without words. From now on one hears the phrase: "I unfortunately do not understand anything about music." Only the initiated belong to the circle of admirers, and they alone can have access to the riddles. Schubert’s text "Mein Traum" speaks of this novel understanding of the adoring listener who is magically redeemed through the work of art. With Schubert, it is the ethereal and wordless "sound" which ultimately recreates harmony, the same "sound" which wanders through the "bunten Erdentraum" in the Eichendorff motto to Schumann’s C major Fantasie.

 

In the past, the relationship between work and public was comparable to the relationship between object and subject; the listener as subject took the work as object – as entertainment and to educate his taste – always keeping a "rational" distance from it. This relationship is gradually reversed: the work of art becomes the subject, represented at the same time by its creator, whereas the public takes on the position of the object that attempts to approach and understand the subject.

 

Take for example Johann Friedrich Reichardt’s remark about the music of C.P.E. Bach in 1774: to understand this music, Reichardt says, ‘one has to attempt to put oneself into the same state of excitement which the composer felt when he composed the piece’ – a demand which cannot be met.

 

Another example are E.T.A. Hoffmann’s remarks about Beethoven’s instrumental music, and especially his fifth symphony, where he repeatedly writes that the composer leads the listener by the hand towards a ‘premonition of the infinite’ or towards ‘the infinite yearning which is the essence of romanticism.’

 

The listener cannot longer be either interested but reserved, or friendly but uninterested: now he must choose to either abandon himself to music or to reject it.

 

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9. Relationship with the public, the composer as messenger

The combination of individualisation and philosophical confession propels the magical "creator" to the status of messenger and prophet who talks to his people from up high. Music becomes public speech and can now appear as art of ideas by virtue of its new possibilities of bringing in the "extra-musical" – a term also used by its opponents. The public can – in E.T.A. Hoffmann’s sense – only guess at the ideas that are communicated to it, as is the case for Beethoven’s fifth or ninth symphony. The latter’s final movement refers to the stages that have been or have to be overcome in the previous movements, but their meaning could never be deciphered and probably never will be. In the different case of the Symphonie fantastique, the public is presented with the very clear – for some too clear – dramatic representation of the romantic yearning that remains unfulfilled and unrealisable. The public thus wavers between clear messages, signs that cannot be deciphered or imagined solutions. The composer always points towards something beyond the sounding music that can be enjoyed without words.

 

Old measures and outlines are not sufficient for these dramas of ideas. The composer needs more space to develop his topics, disputes and tragedies than conventional music provides him with. The audience of the first performance of the Eroica symphony in 1805 complained: ‘It lasted a whole hour!’ Other musical Ideenkunstwerke last even longer. There is even the tendency, occasionally implemented, not to have a short break between the movements, but to let the music rage on in all its length, without interruption of the ‘drame instrumental’, as Berlioz called it.

 

The ‘multiplicity of movements within the single movement’ (Dahlhaus) takes shape, finding its last stance in Richard Strauss’ tone poems or Transfigured Night by Schoenberg.

 

Liszt and Wagner are the central figures of these art-works imbued with ideas [Ideenkunstwerke]; Wagner brings the development to a peak. Without doubt, the Ring des Nibelungen is, together with Faust, the only nineteenth-century work of art which can be called a broad drama of mankind; in it the whole history of mankind is presented and interpreted, followed by a glance towards future possibilities and goals. Correspondingly, Wagner is also extremist in his measures, especially considering that the Norn Scene at the beginning of Götterdämmerung, where the conditions for the disaster are narrated, could in fact have been the fifth part of the Ring, preceding the "Vorabend" Rheingold.

 

In summary of everything said so far, we should now consider whether it is relevant that the developments rest exclusively on the shoulders of men. I am not referring to the problem of so-called feminine aesthetics, which only becomes relevant once women have the same educational opportunities as men – which is especially problematic in the case of composition, in contrast to painting or writing, for example. This prerequisite is not fulfilled for the time-span I am concerned with here; the case of Fanny and Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy should be seen as an early exception.

 

Rather, I wonder whether this breakthrough of the genius – and with it the breakthrough of the previously mentioned syndrome of competitiveness, orientation towards achievement, belief in progress, boundlessness and the view of the artist as a priest – could only establish itself so effectively in the history of composition because the female share of the productive resources of the bourgeois awakening was excluded from the process of composition. I have no intention to vilify the male psyche, but rather I would stress the fact that the direction taken by the development of composition lacked a corrective and that for this reason the development became dangerously one-sided and rapid. The result was an enormous amount of production and innovation, which is, however, not balanced out by a comparable amount of self-reflection, body awareness and poise – these features are not seen as specifically feminine, but should be understood possible results of an exchange between the sexes. To accentuate the one-sidedness of a product of purely masculine behaviour, I may be allowed to point to the share of the sexes in the implementation and organisation of the French Revolution.

 

This point of view is just as simple as it is unpopular; it will, whether received positively or negatively, add new colour, or perhaps new shades to the picture of the advancing composer. Above all, we must not leave the investigation of this aspect to the female part of our profession, feigning generosity: this subject concerns men just as much. Many of us are specialists in the syndrome discussed earlier: we have learned our work-ethics to a greater or lesser extent from the subject of our researches, from the great heroes of music and from the products of their untiring efforts.

 

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10. Changes in of the notions of nature and beauty

In order to accomplish the great individual public speech as art-work imbued with ideas [Ideenkunstwerk], the notion of beauty had to be changed. This is a move away from the Aristotelian understanding of imitation of nature which meant the selection of the best elements and models of ‘belle et simple nature’ and the subsequent fitting together of these elements into a harmonic whole, as advocated by Mattheson. Rather, a new notion of nature and imitation of nature is accepted, with the human "creator" in his unvarnished and unpruned state chosen as its object and model. In 1850, the representatives of this notion were dismissed as "realists" by their adversaries. This new notion embraces the musical representation of the unbalanced, torn, even the ugly, always led by the desire to show human truth in a way which ignores the demand for harmony; by extension it also disappoints expectations about genres and forms and about the sequences of emotions. The individualisation of the work of art means that one has to expect the unexpected, has to expect surprises and the lack of counterbalances to the emotional shifts. Again the Eroica symphony is the pioneering work: the expectation of a balancing and harmonising finale after the first three rather "distorted" movements of this ‘bold and wild imagination’, as one of the first listeners expressed it, is by no means fulfilled. On the contrary, the final movement increases the confusion with its unexpected and unexplainable ruptures – the audience is left moved, but also at a loss, if not taken aback. Each of the great Ideenkunstwerke demands a new form which is adequate to its specific content and hence differs from the traditional canon and its patterns.

 

The path towards New Music is now opened up, as is the possibility of delimiting easily understandable music from it and hence the path towards the development of popular music. Viewed in conjunction with the points previously made, we see divisions everywhere.

 

This need not necessarily be our worrying conclusion. Instead, we can accept it and understand this dual aspect of composing – art music and popular music – as a valuable enrichment of musical life, if we see it as a doubling of the musical production, so to speak. Of course one would neither like to evaluate the rapid development towards atonality only in positive terms, as Adorno, nor only negatively, as Schdanow, and one would also not want to stress the rapid rise of operetta and pop song as the balancing element.

 

Stylistically speaking, we only find heterogeneous and contradictory elements, but socially speaking, we can make out definite progress. To some those might seem less significant than the problems of composing operas and symphonies or the question of Beethoven’s true heir; in contrast to the high realm of artistic considerations , however, social changes are practical and tangible. The only link between the heterogeneous elements, and a significant improvement for all composers, is copyright, which increasingly develops during the nineteenth century and so actually safeguards the social status of the "free" composer. However even here there is a division between classical and popular music, as can be seen by the system of assessment points used to this day.

 

 

An unquestionably positive development in the nineteenth century is the gradual participation of women in composing. Anyone who has ever looked at pieces by Fanny Hensel, her songs, for example, or her string quartet, will start to wonder whether Felix kept her from publishing till shortly before her death for the sole reason of limiting her to her role as a woman. In this respect, Mozart must not be underestimated: he taught not only piano but also composition to many women and thus contributed to the formation of the great Viennese school of female pianists who furthered the performance of Beethoven’s piano works.

 

It is one of the greatest losses to music history that Mozart did not carry out his plan to write a theory of composition. It would have meant an immense leap for the history of composing and composers.

 

Since this paper is intended to spark off discussions, I would like to end with a question which could, I believe, be answered with the help of many of the points addressed: Why has not one of the great composers of the eighteenth and nineteenth century written a theory of composition?

 

Why does the series of authors read Koch, Momigny, Reicha, Weber, Logier, Marx, Lobe, Sechter and Jadassohn and not

 

J.S. Bach, C.P.E. Bach, Mozart, Haydn, Berlioz, Mendelssohn, Gounod, Brahms and Bruckner?

 

 

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1. Transl. in H.C. Robbins Landon, ed., The Collected Correspondence and London Notebooks of Joseph Haydn (London 1959), 118.

2. Transl. in Emily Anderson, ed., The Letters of Beethoven 3 vols. (London 19852), I, 48.

3. Ibid., I, 48.

4. Ibid., III, 1325.