A FLUTIST'S HANDBOOK FOR THE DEVELOPMENT OF A RHETORICAL APPROACH

TO W. A. MOZART'S FLUTE CONCERTO IN G MAJOR, K. 313

by

TARA CAITLIN SCHWAB

A LECTURE-DOCUMENT

Presented to the School of Music and Dance of the University of Oregon

in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

Doctor of Musical Arts

April 2012

ii

“A Flutist's Handbook for the Development of a Rhetorical Approach to W. A. Mozart's Flute

Concerto in G Major, K. 313,” a lecture-document prepared by Tara Caitlin Schwab in partial

fulfillment of the requirements for the Doctor of Musical Arts degree in the School of Music and

Dance. This lecture-document has been approved and accepted by:

____________________________________________________________ Molly Barth, Chair of the Examining Committee ________________________________________ Date Committee in Charge: Molly Barth, Chair Steve Vacchi Anne Dhu McLucas Accepted by: ____________________________________________________________ Ann B. Tedards, Associate Dean and Director of Graduate Studies, School of Music and Dance

iii

© 2012 Tara Caitlin Schwab

iv

CURRICULUM VITAE

NAME OF AUTHOR: Tara C. Schwab PLACE OF BIRTH: Greenbelt, MD DATE OF BIRTH: February 24, 1980 GRADUATE AND UNDERGRADUATE SCHOOLS ATTENDED: University of Oregon, Eugene, OR California Institute of the Arts, Valencia, CA University of North Carolina–Chapel Hill, NC DEGREES AWARDED: Doctor of Musical Arts, 2012, University of Oregon Master of Fine Arts, 2007, California Institute of the Arts Bachelor of Music, 2002, University of North Carolina–Chapel Hill AREAS OF SPECIAL INTEREST: Contemporary Music Performance Ethnomusicology Musicology PROFESSIONAL EXPERIENCE: Duo Amantis, flute and guitar duo, 9/08-6/12 Flute Instructor, Interlochen Summer Arts Camp, 6/12 Traverse Symphony Orchestra, sub, 2nd flute, piccolo, 3/12, 5/12 Mid-Atlantic Symphony Orchestra, sub, 2nd flute, piccolo, 4/12 Panel Discussion and Performance with Shulamit Ran, Interlochen Arts Academy, 2/12 Global Village Thursdays with John Schneider, KPFK 90.7 Los Angeles, 12/10, 1/12 PARTCH ensemble at REDCAT, 5/11 Graduate Teaching Fellow, University of Oregon, 9/08-6/11 Eugene Symphony Orchestra, sub, 2nd flute, piccolo, 8/08-6/11 Manager, Santa Clarita Valley Youth Orchestras, 6/07-8/08 GRANTS, AWARDS AND HONORS: Graduate Teaching Fellowship, University of Oregon, 9/08-6/11 UNC Concerto Competition Winner, 10/01

v

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I wish to express sincere appreciation to professors Molly Barth, Steve Vacchi, and Anne

Dhu McLucas for their assistance and guidance in the preparation of this manuscript. In addition,

special thanks are due to Marc Vanscheeuwijck whose expertise and familiarity with the subject

were greatly inspiring, and of utmost assistance to me in the completion of this project. I would

also like to thank Rick Wilson, David Shorey, Paulie Davis, and Kim Pineda for their enthusiasm

and generosity in sharing their time, knowledge, and instruments with me. I am endlessly

grateful for the munificent support of my parents Lee and Kathleen Schwab, who are patrons of

the arts in the deepest and truest sense; and to Michael Kudirka for his wonderful partnership,

immense support, profound insightfulness, and brilliant musicianship.

vi

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PAGE INTRODUCTION & THESIS.……………………………………………………..……..1 SECTION I A BRIEF HISTORY OF RHETORIC AND ITS APPLICATION TO MUSIC………….2 SECTION II TERMINOLOGY………………………………………………………..………………14 TABLE 1: SCHEMATA…………………………………………………………14 TABLE 2: CADENCES & CLAUSULAE………………………………………18 TABLE 3: RHETORICAL FIGURES…………………………………………...19 RHETORICAL ANALYSIS……………………………………………………..….......22

INVENTIO.………………………………………………………………….…..22 DISPOSITIO.………………………………………………………………........27 ELOCUTIO.………………………………………………………………….….32

SECTION III PERFORMER'S APPLICATION...………………………………………………………33

PRONUNCIATIO..………………………………………………………………33

AN OVERVIEW OF MODERN STYLE AND THE CLASSICAL CANON…………...34

THE PERFORMER'S TOOLKIT ……………………………………………...................38 TIME…………………………………………………………………………….39 METER, RHYTHM, & THE BEAT HIERARCHY……………………………42 TREATMENT OF RESTS……………………………………………………...44 TREATMENT OF THE DOT…………………………………………….…….45 TREATMENT OF SLURS……………………………………………………...46 TEMPO & STYLE………………………………………………………….…..46 PUNCTUATION & ARTICULATION………………………………………...49 ARTICULATION & EMPHASIS………………………………………………53 ORNAMENTS, CADENZAS, & IMPROVISATION………………………….58 PITCH, KEY, TEMPERAMENT & TUNING…………………………………65 TONE……………………………………………………………………………70

MEMORIA & CONCLUSIONS………………………………………………..…………74

APPENDIX

A. MELODIES & SCHEMATA ………………………………………………………78

BIBLIOGRAPHY ………………………………………………………………………..79 ANNOTATED SCORE ANALYSIS……………………………………………………..85

1

Introduction & Thesis

The study of rhetoric, or the art of discourse, held a central position in the educational,

intellectual, and musical aesthetics of the eighteenth-century. Mozart and his contemporaries

were born out of this tradition, and their music draws significantly from the principles of

rhetorical practice as it was understood at the time. In his unique and comprehensive essay, On

Playing the Flute (1752), J. J. Quantz asserts the following:

"The orator and the musician have, at bottom, the same aim in regard to both the preparation and the final execution of their productions, namely to make themselves masters of the hearts of their listeners, to arouse or still their passions, and to transport them now to this sentiment, now to that. Thus it is advantageous to both, if each has some knowledge of the duties of the other."1

The application of the metaphor and tools of rhetoric to music is once again emerging as

an important interpretive device for modern musicians interested in historically informed

performance practice. Our modern methods of musical analysis, composition, and education

would be quite foreign to any composer before the mid-nineteenth century, and as one begins to

tap the profound reservoir of extant information on historical compositional thought and practice,

a rhetorical perspective not only seems appropriate, but essential for music before 1800.

In this essay I will use a rhetorical approach to provide a unique formal and stylistic

analysis of the first movement of Mozart's Flute Concerto No. 1 in G major. Section 1 will

contain a brief introduction to the origins and history of rhetoric and its application to music

through the time of Mozart. In Section 2, I will explain the basis for my own multi-layered

rhetorical analysis of the score, referring to several primary and secondary sources. The final

section will address issues of memory and delivery in accordance with the rhetorical model, and

1 J.J. Quantz, On Playing the Flute, XI, I .

2

ultimately provide conclusions about performance practice that can be directly useful to the

modern teacher, student, or performer.

Section I

A Brief History of Rhetoric and its Application to Music

Ancient philosophers and writers recognized the interconnectedness among the

persuasive arts and sought to codify the processes of invention, arrangement, style, memory, and

delivery for the purposes of elevating and enriching man's ability "to inform, to persuade or

move, and to entertain or delight" a given audience.2 'Rhetoric,' defined as the science or art of

speaking well and using correct expression, was fundamentally concerned with the persuasion of

a large audience through the use of continuous discourse, and was considered the essential, more

human counterpart to the formal, unemotional method of logical debate, termed dialectic.

Treatises on rhetoric by Aristotle, Demosthenes, and Hermogenes were studied and later filtered

through the writings of Roman author-orators Cicero and Quintilian.

Plato and Aristotle, like Socrates before them, reproached the use of rhetoric because it

could provoke severe (and therefore morally corrupting) emotions, and was easily inclined to

empower the dishonest with the ability to persuade. As much as rhetoric could be used to discern

the truth, it could be used to hide it. It was for this reason that Aristotle's Rhetoric described

emotion and character in detail but neglected to address figures of speech and delivery, rendering

it of less use to orators and musicians throughout time than the work of the Romans, which

focused heavily on decorum, eloquence, and actio (delivery). The moral perspective of Aristotle

and his teachers opposed the ancient sophists who "taught that seeking the truth was secondary to

2 Judy Tarling, The Weapons of Rhetoric, 1.

3

the art of persuasion".3 Following in the vein of Aristotle, Cicero defined the 'Perfect Orator' as

an honest man, and Quintilian asserted that 'true oratory' was impossible unless the speaker was

virtuous and wise.

The morally questionable position that rhetoric has occupied throughout history is a

primary reason for its relative suppression as a formal area of study in modern scholarship. Even

in politics and law, where rhetoric first took root, the use of rhetorical tactics today is at once

implicit and deplored. This strong reaction to the power of rhetorical technique is understandable

in light of the theory of the affections that has accompanied the persuasive arts since antiquity.

In ancient Greece, as well as in Europe's Baroque era, 'Aesthetics' referred to all things

concerning the sensory perceptions, and 'Physiology' encompassed the principles of Nature in its

totality. Every human mood, emotion, excitement, and passion was catalogued, and these

"affections" were thought to stimulate the mind, and to influence the body to a great degree.

Plato distinguished four physio-psychological states or affects: delight (joy), distress (grief),

desire, and fear; and Aristotle, eleven: desire, rage, fear, courage, envy, joy, love, hate, hope,

jealousy, and compassion.4 Unlike our concept of emotion today, each state of affection was

considered a "non-independent consequential phenomenon of an external cause," and was

understood to have great power and require great awareness and responsibility.5

Ancient Greek medical theory dictated that the affections depended on the four

temperaments: sanguine, choleric, melancholic, and phlegmatic; which in turn corresponded to

the four natural elements, as well as certain bodily fluids or humors and the organs that produce 3 Ibid., 6. 4 Ulrich Thieme, "Die Affektenlehre im Philosophischen und Musikalischen Denken des Barock. Vorgeschichte, Ästhetik, Physiologie," 3. 5 Ibid., 2.

4

them. A unique combination of the humors comprised the temperament of each person–an

equation that was determined by one's physiology which was thought to be governed in part by

one's astrological natal chart. Depending on his temperament, an individual would be

significantly more or less susceptible to certain affects.6

In the age of Rationalism (termed by musicians of today as the Baroque), René Descartes

sought to scientifically concretize the theory of the affections with his publication Les Passions

de l'Âme in 1649. Descartes used rational inquiry to codify the origin and physiological

processes of affection, and he drew a clear distinction between the passions of the body and

those of the soul. This important division marked the birth of the Cartesian mind-body dualism

that swept through Europe in the mid-seventeenth century, and still bears profound influence on

our way of thinking today. Regarding the history of rhetoric, "it is generally held that virtually

every important position on the nature of rhetoric enunciated since Descartes can be seen as

extensions of, or reactions to, a few basic principles in his philosophy."7

While the main efforts of pre-seventeenth-century authors were focused on representing

the affections, those of Baroque thinkers were geared toward arousing them. A basic tenet of

Baroque thought was that "everything that does not happen with laudable affections, is nothing,

it does not count, it does not do anything."8 The centrality of emotional sensory states in the

human experience, and the belief that a composer or orator could literally alter the functioning of

the body and the mind through enacting specific, stereotyped techniques, gave unparalleled

6 Ibid., 2-3. 7 Thomas Conley, "Rhetoric in the European Tradition," VI, 170. 8 Johann Mattheson: Das forschende Orchestra, 1721. Ulrich Thieme: Die Affeketnlehre im Philosophischen und Musikalischen Denken des Barock. Vorgeschichte, Ästhetik, Physiologie (Celle: Ed. Moeck 4032, 1982-84), 1.

5

credence to the devices of music and rhetoric as expressive languages that were capable of

meaning and persuasion.

During the Middle Ages Cicero's De Inventione, the Rhetorica ad Herennium, and partial

versions of Quintilian's Institutio Oratoria were in circulation, but significant discoveries in the

fourteenth and fifteenth centuries by Petrarch, Coluccio Salutati, Poggio Bracciolini, and others

restored in full Quintilian's Institutes and Cicero's De Oratore, and resurrected many unread

speeches and correspondences by Cicero.9 The widespread dissemination of these texts

throughout Europe was facilitated by the invention of the printing press and subsequent

publications by prolific Venetian printer Aldo Manuzio, as well as by the translations and

contributions of George of Trebizond, a Cretian who moved to Italy in 1416 and wrote the

Rhetoricorum libri quinque, "the most comprehensive treatment of rhetoric in the Renaissance,

possibly of all time."10

The burgeoning interest in the rhetoric and philosophy of ancient Greece was also

reinforced by the immigration of many Greek scholars and teachers to Italy after the fall of

Constantinople to the Turks in 1453. The resulting wealth of understanding about the ethics and

rudiments of classic Greek society and art inspired the early Italian humanists as they sought to

reform society and culture, and to reestablish "the old republican ideal and a concrete exemplum

of the statesman-orator."11 Florentine society was fertile ground for the seeds of Humanism to

take root, and the ideology that sprang forth forged unprecedented pathways between music and

rhetoric all over Europe. "Throughout the period from the late fifteenth to the early nineteenth

9 J. Tarling (2004). The Weapons of Rhetoric, 9. 10 Thomas Conley, "Rhetoric in the European Tradition," VI, 15. 11 Ibid., 113.

6

century the comparison of the performance of music with oratory is frequently found irrespective

of differences in national style or purpose of composition."12

Although Medieval and early Renaissance thought rendered music a purely mathematical

science that reflected divine law through order and numeric proportion, rhetoric's influence

eventually fostered a "new consciousness of expression," dividing music between 'speculative'

(mathematical, heavenly) and 'practical' (earthly) music making.13 Though the role of music had

expanded to include an intense focus on eloquence, "the mathematical basis of music's practical

side survived in the form of unequal tuning systems whose ratios and proportions, it was hoped,

resonated directly with the heavens."14 In seventeenth-century Germany, the convergence of

Lutheran theology and the newly emerging Renaissance Humanism resulted in "significant

revisions of the purely speculative perception of music… [and] … in a 'humanized'

understanding of the discipline.

The human sensus became as important as ratio in determining music's effects, illustrated by the admittance of the third as a musical consonance. The purpose of music as an effective as well as affective means of communication made the practical discipline of composition more prominent than its theoretical counterpart. But instead of dismissing the speculative acoustical science of music as irrelevant, German writers sought to incorporate Lutheran theology and Boethian mathematics into the flourishing understanding of music as a humanistic art form. With the growing renaissance and Lutheran emphasis on the trivium, linguistic and rhetorical concepts became significant elements of musical composition, resulting in a uniquely German musica poetica. The Lutheran emphasis on exegesis of the Word coupled with the Renaissance emphasis on the linguistic disciplines resulted in a concept of music which elevated the expression of the text and its associated affections above all else."15

12 J. Tarling (2004). The Weapons of Rhetoric, i. 13 Ibid., 12. 14 Ibid. 15 D. Bartel (1997). Musica Poetica: Musical-Rhetorical Figures in German Baroque Music, 27-

28.

7

The Lutheran Lateinschulen produced influential composers, writers, and theorists like

Joachim Burmeister, who was "responsible for developing and systematizing an approach to

musical analysis and composition through the application of rhetorical terminology and concepts

which would remain decisive for the remainder of the Baroque musica poetica tradition.

[He] was the first… to present a comprehensive list of expressive musical devices identified with terminology adapted from the rhetorical figures. Through his three publications, Hypomnematum musicae poeticae (1599), Musica autoschediastike (1601), and Musica Poetica (1606), he introduced a systematic concept of the musical-rhetorical figures, building on the numerous sixteenth-century references to rhetorical figures in music."16

The study of rhetoric was also vital throughout the rest of the sixteenth and seventeenth

centuries in the Vatican-chartered Jesuit colleges (widely attended throughout Europe and also

established in South America and East Asia) where the study of rhetoric was given a central

position in the curriculum. Athanasius Kircher was a German Jesuit theologian, mathematician,

music theorist, and polyhistorian whose Musurgia Universalis (Rome, 1650) was referenced by

most German music theorists for nearly a century. Kircher's "profound and all-encompassing

tome," a "compendium of musical facts and speculation… essential to an understanding of 17th-

century music and music theory" highlighted the "speculative, affective, and rhetorical nature of

music."17 Kircher defined musical figures, or Figurenlehre, as did Burmeister, but also included

a chapter dedicated to "musical rhetoric" in which he introduced the concept of a "musical

inventio, dispositio, and elocutio," emphasizing "the similarity in purpose and method between

rhetoric and music."18

Many theorist-writers in the German Baroque extensively addressed the detailed,

systematic application of the principles of rhetoric to music. "In describing how the composer… 16 Ibid., 94. 17 Ibid., 106. 18 Ibid., 108.

8

could create a work of music, theorists including Nicolaus Listenius, Gallus Dressler, Joachim

Burmeister, and Johannes Lippius all drew upon the analogy of the orator manipulating verbal

language in order to create a persuasive presentation of ideas."19 Differences in terminology and

definitions abounded, as each author sought to connect, clarify, and advance past theories of

musical rhetoric to the new concept of musica poetica. While the metaphors of music as a

language and the musician as an orator were related to vocal music throughout the seventeenth

century in the writings of theorists like Mersenne and Kircher, "it was not until the mid- to late

eighteenth century that the idea of music as a language in its own right, independent of any text,

began to find widespread acceptance."20

One of the most influential German Baroque theorists, Johann Mattheson, was also an

opera singer, composer, church musician, and music critic, and was a close friend to Händel,

Telemann, and C.P.E. Bach. His publication Der vollkommene Capellmeister (Hamburg, 1739)

was a "vast, encyclopedic presentation of all the musical knowledge which he considered

essential to church or court musicians."21 Mattheson's book represented a shift in aesthetic

perspective in which

the power of music was rooted in nature rather than mathematics, in empirical observation rather than theoretical speculation, in melody, ultimately, rather than in counterpoint… With the eighteenth-century emphasis on "natural" melodic expressiveness, coupled with the influence of French and Italian ornamentation, the contrapuntal-oriented classification of the figures [began] to give way to categories based on melodic Empfindung or sentiment… Through the following decades a new music aesthetic would replace the predominantly Lutheran, theologically determined and dogmatically objectified concept of music. The

19 M.E Bonds (1991). Wordless Rhetoric: Musical Form and the Metaphor of the Oration, 61. 20 Ibid., 62. 21 D. Bartel (1997). Musica Poetica: Musical-Rhetorical Figures in German Baroque Music, 136.

9

"sensitive" performer would begin to replace the informed melopoeticus, and Empfindsamkeit would take the place of musica poetica.22

Mattheson considered a work of music "an oration in sounds," or "Klang-Rede," and he

suggested that "like the orator, the composer [could] arrange his composition through the process

of inventio, dispositio, and elaboratio or decoratio."23 He encouraged the use of rhetoric's loci

topici (subject areas) in the process of musical inventio; he outlined the components of the

musical dipositio (exordium, narratio, propositio, confirmatio, confutatio, and peroratio); and he

categorized musical-rhetorical figures as belonging to the musical elaboratio or decoratio. As

seen by Mattheson, a composer of the tonal language of instrumental music

should really be capable, without words, to express all the inclinations of the heart through carefully chosen sounds and their appropriate combination in such a way that the listener should be able to completely and clearly understand from this the drift, sense, meaning and stress with all the accompanying punctuation, as if it were a real speech."24

An increased focus on delivery, decorum, and arousing the sentiments through music

(musica pathetica) was a catalyst for the development of the galant style of music in the

European court society of the eighteenth century. This new style of music offered a more

accessible counterpart to the densely contrapuntal, harmonic rhetoric of the late Baroque style,

offering a more thematically based, key-oriented style that granted the performer ultimate agency

and responsibility in expressive power and good taste in delivery. Quantz recognized that "the

proper effect of music depends as much on the performers as on the composer," and he directly

compared musical execution with the delivery of an orator. Indeed, "the predominant critical

orientation of all the arts in the eighteenth century… assigned a central role to the intended

22 Ibid., 137, 139. 23 Ibid., 137. 24 Ulrich Thieme, "Die Affektenlehre im Philosophischen und Musikalischen Denken des Barock. Vorgeschichte, Ästhetik, Physiologie," 2.

10

recipient of a work. The arts, including music, were considered a means toward an end, and that

end was to elicit an emotional response in the beholder," most often, a patron and member of the

nobility.25

"Courtiers in the time of Bach or Mozart artfully modulated all their social behaviors -

their every gesture, word, glance, step, tone, inflection, posture - to optimize their success in the

moment-to-moment interactions of society."26 W.A. and Leopold Mozart were products of and

participants in this culture, which was described even at the time as galant.

Galant was a word much used in the eighteenth century. It referred broadly to a collection of traits, attitudes, and manners associated with the cultured nobility. If we imagine an ideal galant man, he would be witty, attentive to the ladies, comfortable at a princely court, religious in a modest way, wealthy from ancestral land holdings, charming, brave in battle, and trained as an amateur in music and other arts. This perfect courtier, as Baldassare Castiglione described him in 1529, would have the natural grace "to use in every thing a certain sprezzatura [nonchalance] that conceals its art and demonstrates what he does and says to be done effortlessly, and, as it were, without concern." His female counterpart would have impeccable manners, clothes of real sophistication, great skill as a hostess, a deep knowledge of etiquette, and training in one or more of the 'accomplishments' - music, art, modern languages, literature, and the natural sciences."27

"Galant music, then, was music commissioned by galant men and women to entertain

themselves as listeners, to educate and amuse themselves as amateur performers, and to bring

glory to themselves as patrons of the wittiest, most charming, most sophisticated and fashionable

music that money could buy."28 Dutch surgeon and amateur flutist Ferdinand DeJean

commissioned several such works from Mozart about the time that the flute concerto in G major,

K. 313, was composed. While there is some doubt about the exact date of composition, the flute

concerto was certainly intended to be a pleasing piece that exhibited the virtuosity and sensitivity 25 M.E Bonds (1991). Wordless Rhetoric: Musical Form and the Metaphor of the Oration, 54-55. 26 R.O. Gjerdingen (2007). Music in the Galant Style, 3. 27 Ibid., 5. 28 Ibid., 5.

11

of the performer, as well as the prowess of the composer to match a musical work perfectly to a

given occasion and audience. "The galant composer lived the life of a musical craftsman, of an

artisan who produced a large quantity of music for immediate consumption, managed its

performance and performers, and evaluated its reception with a view toward keeping up with

fashion."29

Not only did galant patrons generate and enjoy this music, they understood it. "On

hearing a standard bass, listeners could project specific expectations about its outcome, and those

expectations were a resource upon which composers could draw."30

A hallmark of the galant style was a particular repertory of stock musical phrases employed in conventional sequences. Local and personal preferences among patrons and musicians resulted in presentations of this repertory that favored different positions along various semantic axes - light/heavy, comic/serious, sensitive/bravura, and so on… Even J.S. Bach, whom the general public has long viewed as the paradigmatic Baroque composer, created galant music when it suited his and his patrons' purposes.31

The "stock musical phrases," which Gjerdingen terms "schemata," will be explained in

more detail later in this essay. Patrons of galant music were exposed to these schemata through

frequent listening, and became familiar enough with them to make "informed judgments about

compositions and their performances."32 Composers catered their works to the patron's

knowledge and were aware that their pieces would be judged according to the level of skill they

exhibited in their ability to produce "exemplars of every schema correct in every detail."33 This

29 R.O. Gjerdingen (2007). Music in the Galant Style, 7. 30 Ibid., 149. 31 Ibid., 6. 32 Ibid., 25. 33 Ibid.

12

system of composition was taught by Italian music masters of the time, or maestros, through the

use of "a unique method of instruction centered on the partimento–the instructional bass."34

A partimento resembled the bass part given to eighteenth-century accompanists, with the difference being the lack of any other players or their parts. The partimento was the bass to a virtual ensemble that played in the mind of the student and became sound through realization at the keyboard. In behavioral terms, the partimento, which often changed clefs temporarily to become any voice in the virtual ensemble, provided a series of stimuli to a series of schemata, and the learned responses of the student resulted in the multivoice fabric of a series of phrases and cadences. From seeing only one feature of a particular schema - any one of its characteristic parts - the student learned to complete the entire pattern, and in doing so committed every aspect of the schema to memory. The result was fluency in the style and the ability to 'speak' this courtly language.35

Maestros and their students constructed workbooks, or zibaldone, containing examples of

figured and unfigured basses (partimenti), and melodies paired with unfigured basses (solfeggi).

These workbooks provided "an important repository of stock musical business from which a

young composer could draw," and developed students' ability to "improvise entire pieces as

soloists, drawing upon their family's or teacher's musical zibaldone for standard phrases and

cadences."36

Relating a composer's use of schemata to an actor's use of stock characters and plots in

commedia dell'arte is useful in understanding the function and nature of this style of invention

and composition.

The multi-act play becomes the multimovement sonata or multipart aria. The stock characters become the stock moods or 'affections.' And the stock comic business - the memorized speeches, dialogues, and well-practiced physical comedy - find analogues in the repertory of stock musical phrases or passages: musical schemata. A galant musical score was like a scenario in that it often

34 Ibid. 35 Ibid., 25. 36 Ibid., 9-10.

13

provided only a bare notation of the sequence of schemata, with the graces, ornaments, and elegant variation left to the skilled performer.37

In the galant era it was still expected that a master musician would be both a composer

and a performer, able to perform, elaborate, and improvise pieces of his or her own invention.

The compositional method of the maestros offered "extensive training in fugal partimenti and

imitative solfeggi" and helped composers like Mozart "to master a repertory of these stock

contrapuntal combinations."38 W.A. Mozart was known to be a masterful improviser and by age

7 or 8 he was fluent enough in the galant style to "play off the top of his head for a full hour."39

In effect, young Mozart was able to master the language of music to such a degree that he could

participate in it as though it were spoken language–in a way that was fluid, comprehensible, and

spontaneous. As described by the patrons that heard him improvise, Mozart

abandons himself to the inspiration of his spirit and to a wealth of ravishing ideas, ideas which he nevertheless knows how to place one after the other with taste and without confusion. The most consummate music director could not be more profound than him in the science of harmony and of modulations which he knows how to lead down paths lesser known but always precise.40

As music was firmly established as a European language, replete with all its regional

variations, a composer of Mozart's time was necessarily an orator confident in many musical

dialects, one that could speak convincingly to any type of audience. The rhetorical tradition was

one of which Leopold Mozart was extremely aware, as he received his education in

jurisprudence as well as in music, the former being the point of origin for the very courtroom

manuals that introduced the West to rhetoric. In his Versuch on violin playing, Leopold Mozart

mentions rhetoric (Vortrag) many times and applies it directly to composition and performance

37 Ibid., 9-10. 38 Ibid., 117. 39 Ibid., 344-345 40 Ibid.

14

practice. The world of rhetoric and music was W.A. Mozart's playground, and the result was a

young boy who could 'speak' and understand the language of music long before he could write it.

Section II

Terminology

A brief review of the terminology used in my analysis is necessary, as many of the

schemata I identify are specifically defined by Robert O. Gjerdingen in his book Music in the

Galant Style (2007). The following section includes tables of the most relevant schemata,

cadence types, and rhetorical figures employed in the first movement of K. 313. Table 1

contains the schemata and descriptions of the period of greatest currency, function, central

features, and variants of each. Table two presents the types of cadences employed, dividing

them as Gjerdingen does, into categories of clausulae. The third table is a list of rhetorical figures

identified in this movement, along with their musical and linguistic definitions.

Table 1. SCHEMATA41: Numbers in bold represent the melody, and those underlined, the bass. ROMANESCA Period of Greatest Currency: 1720s & 1730s, remained an option throughout the 18th century Function: opening gambit Central Features • Four equally spaced events, with the first beginning on a metrically strong position, usually

a downbeat. • In the melody, and emphasis on 1 and 5 (the particular contour and order are variable). • In the bass, an initial stepwise descent from 1, with the odd-numbered tones supporting 5/3

sonorities and the even-numbered tones 6/3 sonorities. • A sequence of four triads with roots (and mode) on 1 (major), 7 (major), 6 (minor), and 3

(major). Variants • A leaping type, in which the bass alternately leaps down a fourth and steps up a second, all

with 5/3 sonorities (the fourth of which was minor). This was the seventeenth-century norm.

• A stepwise type, in which the bass descends entirely by step, with alternating 5/3 and 6/3 sonorities.

41 Ibid., Appendix A: Schema Prototypes, 453-464.

15

PRINNER Period of Greatest Currency: 1720s-1770s, remained an option throughout the 18th century, one of the best indications of a musical style grounded in the Italian galant Function: riposte (answer to an opening gambit) Central Features • Four events presented either with equal spacing, with an extended third stage, or in

matching pairs. • In the melody, an emphasis on the stepwise descent 6-5-4-3 (to effect a stronger cadence, a

high 2 is often inserted before the final 3). • In the bass, an emphasis on the stepwise descent 4-3-2-1 (to effect a stronger cadence, a 5

is often inserted before the final 1). • A sequence of chords in 5/3, 6/3, and 5/3 positions. The third stage is often dissonant,

while stages one, two, and four are consonant and in the same mode. Variants • A type with a canon on 6-5-4-3 in melody and bass. There is usually a pedal point on 1,

with 4-3 in the one part sounding against 6-5 in the other. • A precadential type, in which often only the first two stages appear before a standard

cadence. • A circle-of-fifths type, in which every other core tone in the bass matches the schema

FONTE Period of Greatest Currency: used throughout the 18th century Function: especially common immediately after the double-bar in minuets or other short movements. In concertos, arias, and other long works, large Fontes often function as digressive episodes. Central Features • Four events presented as two pairs or dyads. The Fonte's first half is in the minor mode

while the second half is in the major mode one step lower. • In the melody, a short scalewise descent that ends 4-3, often 6-5-4-3. Occasionally the

melody arpeggiates the local dominant chord. • In the bass, ascents from leading tones to local tonics, that is, 7-1. Other possible basses

involve typical cadential moves like 5-1 or 2-1. • Two pairs of sonorities: each pair concludes with a relatively stable 5/3 preceded by a

more unstable or dissonant 6/3, 6/5/3, or 7/5/3.

Variants • A type with the normal melody in the bass and what would be the normal bass in the

melody. • A rare, three-part type with the first two parts in the minor mode and the third in the major

mode

16

DO-RE-MI Period of Greatest Currency: One of the most frequent opening gambits in galant music, used in every decade and in every genre. Function: opening gambit. It often had its normal bass part in the upper voice and its "melody" in the bass. The ease with which it could be thus inverted made it a favorite schema for movements in which the bass begins with an imitation of the melody, a procedure especially common early in the 18th century. Central Features • Three events equally spaced, or occasionally presented with an extended first stage. In

brisk tempos, each even will likely fall on a downbeat. • In the melody, an emphasis on the stepwise ascent 1-2-3. Variants may include chromatic

passing tones. • In the bass, an emphasis on 1-7-1 (sometimes 5 substitutes for 7). • A sequence of chords in 5/3, 6/3, and 5/3 positions. Delaying the bass descent from 1 to 7

creates a dissonance during the second stage. Variants • An Adeste Fidelis type with a melody featuring leaps down to and up from 5. • A two-part, "Do-Re...Re-Mi" type. MONTE Period of Greatest Currency: the preferred schema for an ascending sequence throughout the 18th century Function: In the earlier eighteenth century, Montes of three or more sections could effect relatively distant modulations. In the late eighteenth century, Montes usually had only two sections that highlighted the subdominant and dominant keys, often in advance of an important cadence. Central Features • Two or more main sections, with each succeeding section one step higher. • In the melody, an overall rise, with local descents that complement the ascending leading

tones in the bass. • In the bass, consecutive chromatic ascents from leading tones to local tonics. In the

diatonic variant, the bass rises similarly but without the chromatic semitones. • A sequence of two or more pairs of sonorities where 6/5/3 precedes 5/3. The mode of the

stable 5/3 sonority often cannot be predicted. Variants • Extensions of the rising IV-toV sequence to VI or even to VII and I. • Diatonic types featuring the 6-5-6-5… interval pattern. • A Principale type with all 5/3 sonorities and a bass that alternately leaps up a fourth, then

down a third. • A Romanesca type with an up-a-fifth, down-a-fourth bass and characteristic 4-3

suspensions.

17

MEYER Period of Greatest Currency: 1760s through the 1780s. In earlier, shorter examples, the core melodic tones constitute a major fraction of the perceived melody. In later, longer examples, the two paired events constitute brief moments of punctuation amid a profusion of decorative melodic figures. Function: often chosen for important themes Central Features • Four events presented in pairs at comparable locations in the meter (e.g., across a bar line,

or at mid-bar, with one, two, or four measures between the pairs). • In the melody, the descending semitone 1-7 is answered by a subsequent descent 4-3 (in

the "typeical Italian solfeggio" both dyads are fa-mi in major). • In the bass, the ascending step 1-2 is answered by a 7-1 ascent (or 5-1). • A sequence of four sonorities, usually 5/3, 6/3, 6/5/3, and 5/3. The first and last seem

stable while the middle two seem unstable. Variants • The 1-7 may be higher or lower in pitch than the 4-3. • The related Jupiter schema has 1-2-4-3 melody, sharing its opening dyad with the Do-Re-

Mi and its closing dyad with the Meyer. • The related Pastorella schema has 3-2-4-3 melody, also sharing its closing dyad with

Meyer. • The related Aprile schema has a 1-7-2-1 melody, sharing its opening dyad with the Meyer. PONTE Period of Greatest Currency: More generally, in the latter half of the eighteenth century the Ponte was part of various delaying tactics employed to heighten expectation prior to an important entry or return. Function: A "bridge" built on the repetition or extension of the dominant triad or seventh chord. In minuets, this bridge was placed immediately after the double bar and connected the just-cadenced "second" key with a return to the original tonic key. Central Features • Several events that may be extended until a stable return to the tonic harmony offers some

degree of closure. • In the melody, scales and arpeggios focused on the tones of the dominant seventh chord: 5,

7, 2, and 4. The contour is generally rising. • In the bass, repetitions of 5 or even a pedal point on 5. • A sequence of sonorities emphasizing the dominant triad or seventh chord, sometimes in

alternation with forms of the tonic chord in metrically weaker positions. Variants • a type with a descending stepwise melody 5-4-3-2

18

INDUGIO Period of Greatest Currency: Uncommon in the first half of the eighteenth century, it quickly became a cliché in the second half. Function: (It. "tarrying" or "lingering") served as a teasing delay of the approach to a Converging cadence. For compositions in the major mode, the Indugio allowed, as does the Fonte, the insertion of a brief passage in the minor mode. Often associated with this "darkening" are "storm and stress" syncopations. Central Features • Several events, leading up to a Converging cadence in most instances. The pair of open

lozenges above, with the three dots of ellipsis, indicates an open-ended repetition of the opening sonority or figuration.

• The bass features iterations of 4 leading to 5, often with an inflection to #4 just prior to 5. • The melody usually emphasizes 2, 4, and 6, with frequent approaches to these tones from

below by way of chromatic leading tones. • A prolongation of the 6/5/3 sonority above 4 in the bass, ending with a 5/3 sonority on 5

that is optionally the dominant of the main key or the tonic of the new key.

Variants • A more diatonic type without the bass's #4. • A passing-6/4 type with a more active bass that passes stepwise up and down between 4

and 6. When passing through 5, a 6/4 sonority helps to maintain iterations on 1, which may act as an internal pedal point.

Table 2. CADENCES & CLAUSULAE42 Cadenza - It. "to fall" or "to terminate" Clausulae Cantizans - The 7-1 Clausulae, "Closes Characteristic of a Soprano" • Comma - weaker point of articulation than period, colon, or question mark, 7-1 ascent in

the bass, 5-4-3 (or just 4-3) in the melody create a small inflection that, like a comma, sets off a syntactical unit from what will come next43

• Converging cadence - so named by virtue of the way its two outer voices move toward each other, converging on the dominant chord. Its bass shares many features with the half cadence, its core melody shares the intervallic pattern of the Prinner, and its ending is equivalent to the Comma. A Converging cadence sets up the possibility for a modulation to the dominant key but does not guarantee that modulation.44

42 Ibid., 139-176. 43 Ibid., 156. 44 Ibid., 161-162.

19

Clausula Perfectissimae - "The Most Complete Types of Closes"45 • Cadenza semplice - "simple ending" or "basic fall" (bass movement 3-4-5-1) • Cadenza composta - "compound ending" involving the addition of a "cadential" 6/4 or 5/4

chord • Do-Si-Do cadence - a 1-7-1 melody over a simple or compound cadence, favorite for slow

movements • Mi-Re-Do cadence - a 3-2-1 melodic descent over a simple or compound cadence • Cudworth - most famous of galant cadences, uses the standard bass in conjunction with a

melodic descent through the full octave from a high 1 to the final 1 • Complete Cadence • Deceptive Cadence • Evaded Cadence • Grand Cadence - point of initiation on high 1, general descent (like Cudworth) toward the

final 1, but places a 1-6-5 descent in the melody Clausulae Tenorizans - "Closes Characteristic of a Tenor" 46 • Clausula Vera - "true close," the bass descends a whole step and the melody ascends a half

step • Phrygian Cadence - a form of clausula vera, the tenor descends by a half-step and the

discant ascends by a whole step • Incomplete Clausulae Altizans - "Closes Characteristic of an Alto"47 • Passo Indietro - It. "a step to the rear," 4-3 bass motion that briefly deters an upward thrust

of the cadential bass. Final Fall - final, unadorned melodic fall, a musical "stop sign"48 Table 3. Rhetorical Figures with Musical and Linguistic Definitions Rhetorical Figure Musical Definition49 Linguistic Definition50 Acciaccatura an additional, dissonant note added

to a chord, which is released immediately after its execution

It. 'to crush'

Accentus a preceding or succeeding upper or lower neighboring note usually added to the written note by the performer

the accentuation of a word, accent, tone51

45 Ibid., 141-155. 46 Ibid., 164-166. 47 Ibid., 167. 48 Ibid., 168. 49 Bartel, Musica Poetica, Appendix I, pp. 439-443. 50 Linguistic definitions acquired from the website Silva Rhetoricae by Dr. Gideon Burton, Brigham Young University, http://rhetoric.byu.edu/

20

Anabasis an ascending musical passage which expresses ascending images or affections

from Greek ana = "upward", bainein = "go"

Anadiplosis (1) a repetition of a mimesis (2) a repetition of the ending of one phrase at the beginning of the following one

the repetition of the last word (or phrase) from the previous line, clause, or sentence at the beginning of the next

Anaphora, repetitio

a repetition of the opening phrase or motive in a number of successive passages; a general repetition

repetition of the same word or group of words at the beginning of successive clauses, sentences, or lines

Anaploce a repetition of a noema, particularly between choirs in a polychoral composition

choral repetition

Antithesis a musical expression of opposing expressions, harmonies, or thematic material

juxtaposition of contrasting words or ideas (often, although not always, in parallel structure)

Aposiopesis a rest in one or all voices of a composition; a general pause

breaking off suddenly in the middle of speaking, usually to portray being overcome with emotion

Catabasis a descending musical passage which expresses descending, lowly, or negative images or affections

a going down, descent, the name of a ceremonial at the festival of the Magna Mater52

Climax a gradual increase or rise in sound and pitch, creating a growth in intensity

generally, the arrangement of words, phrases, or clauses in an order of increasing importance, often in parallel structure

Diminutio various elaborations of longer notes through subdivision into notes of lesser duration.

lessening , diminution

Dubitatio, Aporia

an intentionally ambiguous rhythmic or harmonic progression

Deliberating with oneself as though in doubt over some matter; asking oneself (or rhetorically asking one's hearers) what is the best or appropriate way to approach something.

51 Charles T. Lewis, A Latin Dictionary, http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.04.0059%3Aentry%3Daccentus 52 Ibid., http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus:text:1999.04.0059:entry=catabasis&highlight=catabasis

21

Epizeuxis an immediate and emphatic repetition of a word, note, motif, or phrase

Repetition of words with no others between, for vehemence or emphasis.

Faux Bourdon, Catachresis

a musical passage characterized by successive sixth-chord progressions

The use of a word in a context that differs from its proper application.

Groppo a four-note motif in arch formation with a common first and third note

Homoioteleuton : a general pause in all voices (aposiopesis) following a cadence

Similarity of endings of adjacent or parallel words.

Interrogatio a musical question rendered variously through pauses, a rise at the end of the phrase or melody, or through imperfect or Phrygian cadences

Primarily, interrogatio is simply the Latin term for erotema (the rhetorical question). In the Ad Herennium, however, interrogatio is described as employing a question as a way of confirming or reinforcing the argument one has just made.

Mutatio Toni an irregular alteration of the mode changing , change, alteration Palilogia a repetition of a theme, either at

different pitches in various voices, or on the same pitch in the same voice.

Repetition of the same word, with none between, for vehemence. Synonym for epizeuxis.

Paronomasia a repetition of a musical passage with certain additions or alterations for the sake of greater emphasis

Using words that sound alike but that differ in meaning (punning).

Paragoge, Supplementum

a cadenza or coda added over a pedal point at the end of a composition

The addition of a lettter or syllable to the end of a word.

Pathopoeia a musical passage which seeks to arouse a passionate affection through chromaticism or by some other means

A general term for speech that moves hearers emotionally, especially as the speaker attempts to elicit an emotional response by way of demonstrating his/her own feelings (exuscitatio).

Polyptoton a repetition of a melodic passage at different pitches

Repeating a word, but in a different form. Using a cognate of a given word in close proximity.

Suspiratio refers to the specific use of rests in a composition employed to express sighs, gasps, or affections of sighing or longing

suspiro - to draw a deep breath, to sigh; to sigh for, long for

22

Rhetorical Analysis In his book, Wordless Rhetoric: Musical Form and the Metaphor of the Oration, Mark

Evan Bonds explains the polarized methods of 'generative' and 'conformational' formal analysis

that have prevailed throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries as perspectives on the form

and meaning of historical music. The "conformational" approach is "based on the comparison of

a specific work against an abstract, ideal type," such as "sonata form."53 The "generative"

approach, conversely, "considers how each individual work grows from within and how the

various elements of a work coordinate to make a coherent whole… [and] … in its most extreme

manifestations… makes no essential distinction between the form and content of a given

work."54 Bonds proposes that a rhetorical approach reconciles the generative and conformational

dichotomy, and is ultimately far more descriptive, and congruent with the compositional process

of the time.

He notes the fact that "Composition" is "one of the many terms that music has borrowed

from rhetoric. And in eighteenth-century accounts of musical form, the manner in which a

composer 'puts together' his work is perceived as analogous to the manner in which an orator

constructs an oration. The final products of these two processes, in turn, exhibit close structural

similarities."55

Inventio

The art of composition both for rhetoric and for music was regarded in the eighteenth

century as an essentially three-stage process. "The first step is what German writers call the

Erfindung or creation (inventio) of basic ideas. These ideas, in the rudimentary sequence of their

53 M.E Bonds (1991). Wordless Rhetoric: Musical Form and the Metaphor of the Oration, 13. 54 Ibid., 14. 55 Ibid, 80.

23

eventual order, constitute the Anlage or 'groundplan' of the oration or musical movement."56

Rhetoric lends many techniques to assist the composer in the process of invention, "such as the

loci topici and the various devices of ars combinatoria, by which very small ideas, through

processes of permutation, can be expanded into larger ones."57

According to Cicero (Book VII), "invention is the conceiving of topics either true or

probable, which may make one's cause appear probable." The aim of a composer in the rhetorical

tradition (to which Mozart most certainly belonged) was to invent a musical idea that was a

suitable basis for construction and development, so as to create a musical dialogue or argument

that could effectively arouse certain responses in human temperament. Johann Georg Sulzer, a

contemporary of Mozart, wrote extensively on invention as the first step in the creative process,

relating it to the way in which the speaker writes his speech, beginning with a specific intention

or goal in mind, then constructing the means by which it can be attained.

While the rules of partimenti could be learned, a composer could not be taught how to be

a brilliant creator of melodies. It was thought that true invention could not be learned, but is a

type of genius. Typically, a composer would create and develop one or two melodies within a

given movement. Mozart was known for being able to invent melodies with great ease, and the

diversity of melodic content is immediately visible in his music. Below is a list of all the

melodies used in the first movement of K. 313. On the score analysis, these melodies are labeled

in blue.

Table 4. Melodies in K. 313, Mvt. I & Locations in the Score

Melody Number & Title Measures in which melody occurs Melody 1 (M1) 1-11, 31-43, 63, 91-99, 139, 149-161, 173-174, 202-203, 209-215

56 Ibid. 57 Ibid., 80-81.

24

Melody 2 (M2) 12-14, 57-60, 62, 64-65, 69-70, 86, 88-89, 175-178, 180, 187-188, 204, 206-207

Melody 3 (M3) 15-22, 71-78, 189-196 Melody 4 (M4) 23-26, 79-85, 197-202 Melody 5 (M5) 27-29, 44-45, 100-103, 111-115, 127-134, 162-163, 216-218 Melody 6 (M6) 46-56, 61, 122, 164-172, 179 Melody 7 (M7) 66-68, 184-186 Melody 8 (M8) 56, 89, 105, 116, 125, 136, 138, 142-147 Melody 3 Acc. (M3ACC) (17), (19), 107-108, 118-119

In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries "feelings and passions were classified in

various codes," and it was accepted "that a slow measure doth excite in us gentle and sluggish

motions, such as a kind of languor, sadness, fear, pride, and other heavy and dull passions; and a

more nimble and swift measure doth proportionately excite more nimble and sprightly passions,

such as joy, anger, [and] courage."58 In the time surrounding the composition of Mozart's flute

concertos for Ferdinand DeJean, "Johann Philipp Kirnberger, the student of J.S. Bach, assign[ed]

expressive qualities to intervals in Die Kunst des reinen Satzes, 1771-1779."59 In addition to

specific notes and intervals being typified, entire melodic segments were codified. While

"Baroque music tended to develop one idea, affection, or topic throughout a piece, to maintain

unity through consistency," by the time of Mozart, "mixtures and contrasts became… the rule."60

In fact, Ratner asserts that "Mozart was the greatest master at mixing and coordinating topics,

often in the shortest space and with startling contrast."61

Mozart's treatment of the topics he chose for his flute concerto will be discussed in the

next section. Overall, the style of this piece can be described as middle-style, which "according

58 L.G. Ratner (1980). Classic Music: Expression, Form, and Style, 4. 59 Ibid. 60 Ibid., 26. 61 Ibid., 27.

25

to Scheibe, is ingenious, pleasant, and flowing, [and] must please the listener rather than excite

him or lead him to reflection. The melody must be clear, lively, flowing, and well turned;

harmony must serve only to make the melody clearer and must never dominate [this refers to

texture, rather than chord progression]. Joy, delight, love, devotion, modesty, and patience are

best imitated in this style."62

Scheibe, C.P.E. Bach, Quantz, Riepel, and Türk all mention the concept of 'musical ideas'

repeatedly in their writings, evidencing that "within the conceptual metaphor of the musical work

as an oration, the themes of an instrumental work were seen as units of complete and self-

contained thought."63 Gjerdingen refers to these musical ideas, or patterns, as schemata:

a term with a long history first in philosophy and then in psychology. "Schema" (Kant) refers to what is broadly called a mental representation or category, and thus shares meanings with terms like "idea" or "form" (Plato), "ideal type" (Weber), "family resemblance" (Wittgenstein), "archetype" (Frye), "prototype" (Posner), "essence" (Putnam), "natural type" (Rosch), and so forth…. Schema is thus a shorthand for a packet of knowledge, be it an abstracted prototype, a well-learned exemplar, a theory intuited about the nature of things and their meanings, or just the attunement of a cluster of cortical neurons to some regularity in the environment. Knowing relevant schemata allows one to make useful comparisons or, as the saying goes, to avoid "comparing apples with oranges." Experts in a particular subject may distinguish more relevant schemata than non-experts. Becoming acquainted with a repertory of galant musical schemata can thus lead to a greater awareness of subtle difference in galant music. The music may seem to develop more meaning.64

Gjerdingen likens his investigation of galant musical schemata to the "taxonomic

approach of the early twentieth-century Finnish school of folktale study," which identified "tale

types" based on "analyses of constituent motifs and shared complexes of motifs."65

62 Ibid., 7-8. 63 M.E Bonds (1991). Wordless Rhetoric: Musical Form and the Metaphor of the Oration, 164-165. 64 R.O. Gjerdingen (2007). Music in the Galant Style, 10-11. 65 Ibid., 12-13.

26

A tale type has many correspondences to what psychologists today term a 'story schema.' Both assume different levels of analysis–subordinate narrative episodes each with its own subordinate motifs–and both eschew the single defining essence in favor of complexes of defining features, often hierarchically nested. Yet neither is the last word in defining a schema, especially a schema that unfolds in time."66

Gjerdingen seems to have found a genuinely rhetorical method of analysis that addresses

and reconciles the polarity between the generative and conformational approaches. In his

explanation of musical schemata, he presents a comparison of seven bass lines from Locatelli's

Opus 2 flute sonatas. His side-by-side method of comparison is revealing of many discernible

patterns, and telling of the many challenges inherent in categorizing them. His work is

reminiscent of studies by ethnomusicologists Peter Jeffery, Leo Treitler, Albert Lord, David

Rubin, and Anne Dhu McLucas, in their investigations of oral tradition and formulaic theory as it

pertains to Gregorian Chant, South Slavic heroic songs, Epic Ballads and Counting-out Rhymes,

and British-Irish-American tune families, respectively. Through Gjerdingen's analysis, Mozart's

music reveals evidence of a highly developed, learned oral and written tradition, the galant style,

that was in widespread use before the socio-political and cultural shift of the French Revolution,

and that is now completely unrecognizable to our modern hearing of his music.

In the score analysis that accompanies this essay, I have identified the schemata present

in the first movement of Mozart's flute concerto in G major. These are labeled in green and

primarily use terms established by Gjerdingen in his book Music in the Galant Style. Many of

Gjerdingen's schemata use the original titles from theorists of the time, while others are schemata

for which he has created names, such as the Meyer, which he named after his teacher Leonard B.

Meyer for first bringing attention to the 1-7-4-3 melodic pattern. The significance of these

various schemata throughout society and time is explained in great detail in Gjerdingen's first

66 Ibid., 13.

27

book A Classic Turn of Phrase. The different kinds of schemata can function as opening

formulas, responses (called riposte by Gjerdingen), and clausula (or cadences). These are freely

and brilliantly mixed, inverted, reversed, and combined by Mozart, as the objective of every

great composer was to use stereotyped formulas in novel ways to set up and then evade

expectation, allowing the audience to feel simultaneously 'in-the-know' and delightfully

intrigued. The most relevant schemata and clausulae to the analysis of Mozart's flute concerto

will be defined in Section II.

Dispositio The second step in the process of composition is the Anordnung or Ausführung (the

dispositio or elaboratio), in which the basic ideas (Gedanken) are ordered, elaborated, repeated,

varied, and articulated in the sequence of their ultimate deployment over the course of an entire

movement or speech. It is here that large-scale form is determined by the orderly arrangement of

discrete units; it is at this stage that "individual melodic sections," to use Koch's terminology, are

"united into a whole, according to a definite purpose. Through grammar, the material contents of

artistic expressions are made correct; rhetoric, by contrast, determines the rules by which the

artistic expressions within a particular work are concatenated, according to the end to be

achieved."67

A rhetorical approach provides a set of rules to follow, a prescribed conformational form,

but allows for an idea to develop from its inception to its most complex manifestation, through

the generative process of thematic development and formal punctuation, or periodicity.

A listener attuned to 18th-century musical rhetoric accepts the authentic cadence… as a firm and proper conclusion to a period. The half cadence–a pause upon the dominant–is a momentary interruption of movement, a comma or semicolon. A deceptive cadence… is a question, delay, or digression. An

67 M.E. Bonds (1991). Wordless Rhetoric: Musical Form and the Metaphor of the Oration, 80.

28

inconclusive cadence–tonic or dominant inverted–is a signal for further action. Cadences, thus, are controlling and shaping factors in the motion of the period toward its conclusion; each has a lesser or greater effect of periodicity according to its impression of finality.68

In the accompanying score analysis, these terms appear in bold above the score as they

occur in the music. These terms are listed and defined in a multitude of books on rhetorical

music. The following descriptions are compiled from several sources and are applied to this

piece as metaphors that help me, as a performer, to delineate and express the larger structure of

the whole movement. These sections can be compared to the paragraphs of a speech, and are

comprised of sentences, which are in turn comprised of subjects and predicates, opening phrases

and closing responses, all of which are embodied in the various schemata, which I have labeled

in green.

The exordium "introduces the composition, arousing the audience's attention and

preparing them for that which is to follow."69 Its "sole purpose… is to prepare our audience in

such a way that they will be disposed to lend a ready ear to the rest of our speech."70 In the case

of K.313, this takes the shape of an opening ritornello (mm.1-30) that prepares the listener for

what is to come. The first five melodies are introduced clearly in this section, and without

digression, prior to the flute's entrance. These melodic ideas are introduced briefly, so that the

audience gets an idea of the topics of the piece before the solo flute states its case. The section

concludes with a typical final-fall figure that serves as a grammatical period, which is then

followed by a brief rest, or breath, in all parts.

The next section, the propositio (mm.31-90) presents the "actual content and purpose of

the composition," and includes the narratio, which advances "the intention or nature of the

68 L.G. Ratner (1980). Classic Music: Expression, Form, and Style, 34. 69 D. Bartel (1997). Musica Poetica: Musical-Rhetorical Figures in German Baroque Music, 81. 70 Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria, IV, I.

29

composition [and]… can be realized through the entry of the vocal part in an aria or the solo

instrument(s) in a concerto."71 The section begins with what could be heard as a false repeat of

the opening thematic material, but one quickly hears that the first melody is elaborated upon

through extensive prolongations based primarily in virtuosic flourishes for the soloist. Like the

exordium, this section is firmly rooted in the key of G major. All cadences and extensions thereof

serve to reinforce this key area until the sudden shift to e minor that occurs simultaneously with

the flute's introduction of a new melody (not contained in the exordium!) at measure 46. This

new Melody 6 follows on the heels of the coda material (Melody 5) that previously served to

finalize the exordium.

This reassessment and development of the sequence of melodic events is the beginning of

a series of melodic and motivic juxtapositions of various lengths. Yet another melody is

introduced by the flute at measure 66 (Melody 7), confirming its position in the narratio, and

supporting the overall purpose of the propositio. Combined with diminutions in the flute, the

section from measures 70-83 recapitulates the second-half of the exordium, though now in the

dominant key of D major. This recapitulation, rather than ending with the coda material (Melody

5), engages in extensive harmonic prolongations that set up a series of grand cadences that

conclude the section and initiate the confutatio at measure 91.

The function of the confutatio (mm. 91-148) is "to strengthen the proposition by refuting

or resolving any objections to it, by way of suspensions, chromaticism, or contrasting passages

which, when properly resolved, strengthen the original theme."72 The confutatio is divided into

two primary subsections, the first of which (mm.91-104) relates most obviously to the arguments

of the propositio, and the second of which features the stark contrast of the counter-arguments

71 D. Bartel (1997). Musica Poetica: Musical-Rhetorical Figures in German Baroque Music, 81. 72 Ibid.

30

(mm.105-148). The second subsection is initiated after a striking adaptation of the previously

accompanimental coda material (Melody 5) by the solo flute line in m. 103. This empathetic

utterance followed by a scalar cadential flourish, is then responded to by the unison tutti forces,

which transform from a "skipping" thirds motif to a scalar variation of Melody 8 (mm. 105-6).

The material that follows in this second subsection is clearly derived from material in the

opening section, but its antithetical nature is dramatically demonstrated by the mode shift from

the dominant key of D major to its parallel minor in measure 106. This initiates a pair of

protracted circle of fifths progressions, the first ascending (d min., a min., e min.) and resulting

in a Phrygian half-cadence (B maj.), and the second descending (e min., a min., D maj., G maj.,

C maj.) and resulting in an approach to the subdominant C major that through converging,

chromatic bass motion, leads back to the key of D major. Throughout these harmonic sequences,

the flute seems to act out a dialogue with the other voices, oscillating between virtuosic passages

and long-held chord tones to prove its versatility and responsiveness to the demands of the tutti.

Indeed, this section is defined by the tutti's frequent forte interrogatio (questioning) figure,

which seems to suddenly interject (mm. 105, 116, 125, 142, 144, 146), demanding the skill of the

solo line to cope with the disturbance in texture.

After the first circle of fifths sequence is complete (m.127), the flute is assigned an

embellished version of the Melody 5 coda material (mm. 127-134), and then responds to the

tutti's more supportive (less antiphonal) accompanimental texture by employing the more

assertive Melody 8 interrogatio figure (mm. 136, 138). At m. 139 an interesting return to

Melody 1 in the flute line, now altered by chromaticism, reminds the listener of the true

argument of the movement, and pleads its case through a descending pathopoeia. At m. 142 this

31

results in a rapid antiphonal oscillation of the familiar interrogatio figure between the tutti and

the flute.

Mozart engages in a playful and mischievous dialogue between the solo and tutti forces.

The forte tutti questions in D major (m. 142), the flute and first violin respond at piano in d

minor (m. 143), the forte tutti questions again in D major (m. 144), and the piano flute and violin

line respond again in d minor, but more emphatically this time (paronomasia). Finally, the tutti is

convinced and reiterates the figure at forte, but this time in d minor! Just as someone telling a

joke, as soon as the tutti is convinced of one thing, the solo line switches to D major, adding an

extra measure of descending groppo-like flourishes for emphasis, which lead back to the

statement of Melody 1 in its original key, initiating the confirmatio. This deeply playful sense of

humor and wit is the kind that Robert Levin relates to "the three walnut shells and the pea– it's

Three Card Monty at a street corner…

You watch, and you predict that the pea is under the second, the middle walnut, and you're right. And then you're sure it's the first one, and you're right again. And you're sure it's the third one, and you're right again. The funny thing is as soon as you start to bet $20 a shot, somehow then you never figure out where that pea is... Mozart understands that to keep you playing you've got to win a fair amount of the time.

In the case of the aforementioned dialogue between the tutti and the solo, he allows our

expectations to 'win' several times before switching the card and deceiving our assumptions, to

our surprise and delight.73

The confirmatio (mm. 149-208) employs varied and artful repetitions to reinforce the

propositio.74 Tonal digressions from the propositio are here brought into a resolution with the

tonic key. For example, the e minor Melody 6 is here (m. 164) stated in the subdominant C major

73 Robert Levin, Mozart Lecture III, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPuxV0xXEc8&feature=relmfu 74 D. Bartel (1997). Musica Poetica: Musical-Rhetorical Figures in German Baroque Music, 81.

32

to further reinforce the home key, and to alleviate the tension of all of the dominant keys just

heard. The restatement of melodic material from the propositio (much of which was never stated

by the flute in the tonic key) is now finally confirmed by the flute in the home key (e.g., Melody

3 from measure 15 is related to measure 189, etc.). The grand cadence that previously established

the dominant key at the end of the propositio (m. 90) concludes the confirmatio firmly in the

tonic key (m. 208).

"To end the composition emphatically" the peroratio "may include a repetition of the

opening exordium or ritornello, may make use of an elaborated pedal point, a device which is

given the various names paragoge, manubrium, or sumplementum."75 Indeed the metaphor of the

peroratio is an apt one to apply to the last section of this movement. At measure 209, we hear the

final restatement of the opening argument (Melody 1) with additional subdominant prolongations

that lead into the cadenza (paragoge) at measure 215. The double-suspension of the orchestra

(6/4) is resolved by the flutist (5/3) and leads to the final tutti, which employs the coda material

(Melody 5), ultimately concluding in a second final fall, mirroring that which concluded the

exordium.

Elocutio

In the third and final step, the Ausarbeitung (elocutio), the orator or composer shapes all

the remaining details of the argument."76 This process can be related to "clothing" the ideas in

proper words,77 and refers to the part of the rhetorical process in which figures of speech are

employed, and ideas are adorned with the finishing touches that enhance their meaning and

effect to the greatest degree. On the score analysis, I have included in red the most relevant

75 Ibid. 76 Bonds, M.E. (1991). Wordless Rhetoric: Musical Form and the Metaphor of the Oration, 80. 77 T. Beghin & Sander M. Goldberg. (2007). Haydn and the Performance of Rhetoric, 132.

33

rhetorical figures employed in the movement. These rhetorical-musical terms as previously

defined earlier in this section, will be integrated into the performer's application in Section III.

The use of rhetorical figures proved a compelling metaphor for historical composers in the

embellishing of their ideas. It is our job as performers to be able to recognize these figures, and

to express them in the presentation of the music.

While Judy Tarling considers the processes of inventio, dispositio, and elocutio to be the

responsibility of the composer, she considers the performer's thorough awareness of these

elements of music-making essential in conveying a piece's intended affect and form. She

identifies the performer's main responsibilities are the processes of memoria and pronuciatio or

actio, in other words, the memorization and preparation of the music, and the thoughtful and

skillful delivery of the music in good taste and replete with proper articulations, good intonation,

and expressions of style.

Section III

Performer's Application

Pronuciatio (actio)

Ever-present in primary and secondary sources on the subject of performance practice is

the assertion that "Delivery is one of the principal divisions of rhetoric, and is generally regarded

as the most important."78 Both Tarling and Bonds cite Kirnberger's description of the rhetorical

style of performance still alive towards the end of the eighteenth century:

It is immediately apparent to everyone that the most moving melody would be completely stripped of all its power and expression if one note after another were performed without precise regulation of speed, without accents, and without resting points, even if performed with the strictest observation of pitch. Even common speech would become partly incomprehensible and completely disagreeable if a proper measure of speed were not observed in the delivery, if the words were not separated from one another by the accents associated with the

78 Judy Tarling, Weapons of Rhetoric, 99.

34

length and brevity of the syllables, and finally if the phrases and sentences were not differentiated by resting points. Such a lifeless delivery would make the most beautiful speech sound no better than the letter-by-letter reading of children.79

According to this assertion, the act of performing music should be seemingly

spontaneous–imbued with all the nuance, variety, ease, space, and implication of eloquent

speaking. But in order to perform Mozart's music in a way that reflects all the subtlety and

delicacy of language, we must understand not only what the music requires, but what tools we

possess to express it. Modern methods of analysis, interpretation, and delivery imply a different

interpretive process and aesthetic than what was intended when this music was written by

Mozart. It is important to understand how our current use of and relationship to this music has

changed, so that we may be as informed as possible when making decisions about how to

participate in it now.

An Overview of 'Modern Style' and the Classical Canon

Mozart's flute concerto K. 313 is a firm fixture in the "classical canon." Bruce Haynes

describes the canon as Western art music's highly exclusive "corpus of works that is regularly

heard," the "authoritative list."80 These works are "so pervasive and familiar that not only [do

they] form the core of the repertoire for symphony auditions, but any good young instrumentalist

knows how…each piece is expected to be played, right down to [articulations], dynamic marks,

and places to breathe."81 In his book The End of Early Music, Haynes goes on to draw a very

clear (but not very pretty) picture of the "modern style" of playing historical music.

79 Die Kunst des Reinen Satzes in der Musik (1771-79) part 2, section 1, p. 105. Quoted in M.E. Bonds, p. 75. 80 Bruce Haynes, The End of Early Music, 69. 81 Ibid., 6.

35

He asserts, "classical musicians play in Modern style…without the faintest clues about

Modernism, or how it differs from Romanticism."82 He further explains the "Modern

style…shows the typical attributes of Modernism, following written scores quite literally and

being tightfisted with personal expression."83 Much of his complaint has to do with the constant

use of vibrato, as well as the long-line phrase that steamrolls over intelligible gestures and

figures of musico-rhetorical speech. "Comparing Period style to modern style, the overriding

impression comes from the way 16th notes are treated - tossed off or etched out in rigid and

disciplined equality…the attributes of Period style like phrasing by gesture, dynamic nuance,

inflection (individual note-shaping), tempo rubato, agogic accents and note placing, pauses, and

beat hierarchy all tend to run counter to the predictable, the automatic, the machine-like

regularity of Modern style."84

In addition to regularity and equality, Haynes identifies "Vehemence" as "commonly

applied instead of more nuanced and varied expression", and goes on to say that "modern

performances rarely relax."85 He identifies some elements of modern playing as a natural result

of the changes in instruments. The flute we play now has a different pitch and tuning system, and

it takes more air to start and maintain the sound. The cylindrically-bored metal Boehm-system

flute is louder and has a more even scale, but is less sensitive to the complex articulations

mastered and catalogued by Quantz; and it cannot provide us with an example of the traverso's

pitch-relationships and timbral idiosyncracies, those sounds that were native to Mozart and

composers of his time. For this reason, many people feel, myself included, that there is no

82 Ibid., 13. 83 Ibid., 32. 84 Ibid., 59. 85 Ibid.

36

substitute for some experience playing the traverso, and some understanding of rhetorical music

and the differences in historical and modern performance practices.

It is highly questionable if how modern musicians perform Mozart's music today could be

termed "correct." On one hand, Mozart is presented to performers and audiences as an

impervious legend–his music, a perfect, unchanging window into one of the greatest

achievements of human intellect and raw, divine giftedness–not to be tampered with. In

juxtaposition with this anachronistically reverent attitude (Mozart was not so idolized in his

time), his music is often consigned to the genre of 'soothing' classical entertainment, marketed to

listeners as a way of transporting the mind from the toils and noise of the modern world to a

more elegant, orderly, beautiful state. Placing this vivid, dynamic, and ingenious musical style in

the impossible realm of perfection and apotheosis while simultaneously relegating it to the

unobtrusive role of background music produces an interesting dilemma for everyone.

To relate this to literature, our modern handling of Mozart's music bears an uncanny

resemblance to the uncomfortable treatment of the heroine Clarissa in Samuel Richardson's

epistolary novel of the same name, written in 1748 (and for that matter, with Dante's poor

Beatrice in the much earlier La Vita Nuova); which is to say that our immortalization of, fear of,

and obsession with what we (erroneously) view as pure, unattainable virtue (in essence a dead,

inhuman state), is held in power by an opposing fear; that once our idol is touched by mortal

hands, imminent and total corruption of that purity will ensue, causing a fall from grace and the

ultimate demise of an icon that in turn represents our own virtue. As performers, we seem to

teeter nervously between the desire to represent flawlessly what is flawless, and the desire to

participate creatively in the genius of Mozart's musical style.

37

The "terrible problem now, in the twentieth century," according to Robert Levin, "is that

these pieces have become museum pieces. They have become, through almost limitless

repetition, so thoroughly known…" that any variation in the way that we play them is perceived

as a mistake, and in 'poor taste.'86

"What the 19th Century did to Mozart was, it turned Mozart into the definition of taste, of elegance, of beauty. In short, it turned Mozart into a fashion model, a beautiful face, a mask, and as a result of that, it cultivated an attitude towards Mozart performance in which things needed to be smooth, things needed to be poised, things needed to be beautiful, and of course, what starts by being a notion of beauty ends up being rather "prettified", and so we get performances of Mozart that tend to "embalm" him, rather than to enliven him. And to turn Mozart into an object which is just simply "nice, pleasant, pretty" is…unforgivable, because his music teems with all of the disorder of the human condition."87

Descriptions of Mozart's music as transcendent, transparent, orderly, smooth, and steady

frame our modern pedagogy, and we encourage students to follow rhythms, dynamics,

ornaments, and articulations with a meticulous and pre-ordained precision, and with exact

adherence to the musical score. But with the application of a historically informed perspective,

more nuance can be derived–"when parameters like dynamic nuance, individual note shaping,

rubato, agogics and note placing, pauses, beat hierarchy, and emphasis are regularly present in

one's performance, they act like windows into the soul."88 Without considering these attributes of

musical performance integral to the rhetorical perspective, we end up with very little (if any)

variety in the performance of this work, and very little opportunity to make creative decisions

about how to play it.

In an age defined by recordings and an unyielding focus on technical virtuosity,

musicians must use every available device to delight, to edify, and to persuade their listeners, as

86 Robert Levin. "On the Edge" (1992) directed by Derek Bailey (B). [transcription by Tara Schwab] 87 Robert Levin, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWKbOGMqDVw 88 B. Haynes (2007). The End of Early Music, 113.

38

the very persistence of the art depends on it. Building a strong foundation of awareness and

agency for modern performers of historical music will help to arrest the threat of monotony, the

"mother of boredom," and will inevitably open new avenues of expression, creativity, and

understanding.89 My objective here is to explore the toolkit that a rhetorical approach provides

for us to tackle such a task. The following sections will explore what Judy Tarling refers to as

the "weapons of rhetoric," as they can be applied to the first movement of this concerto.

The Performer's Toolkit Constructing a spontaneous and personal performance of rhetorical music provides a

particular challenge. Mozart was one of the most specific in his indications and written-out

ornamentation, but a great deal was left unstated because much of it was implicit in the style of

the time. Generally, if a composer of Mozart's time takes care to indicate something in the music

it more often implies the breaking of a rule than the statement of one. It is important to remember

that in the absence of specific written indications, it is the performer's duty to make decisions

about how to enliven passages and melodies in unique and delightful ways using variety and

innovation within the context of the 'rules'. This is what was expected - and directly opposes a

model which assumes nothing but what is explicitly written.

Discovering the rules and how to toy with them successfully requires learning how to use

the tools of rhetorical music, and expanding one's toolkit in order to be as equipped as possible in

live performance to move, delight, and persuade the audience. As performers we are responsible

for using our informed intuition to 'fill in the gaps' of the unwritten traditions that accompany

music like Mozart's. Below are the most essential tools to begin developing that ability within

the rhetorical tradition.

89 J. Tarling, Weapons of Rhetoric, 107.

39

Time

"Time makes melody, therefore time is the soul of music. It does not only animate the same, but retains all the component parts thereof in their proper order. Time decides the moment when the various notes must be played, and is often that which is lacking in many who otherwise have advanced fairly far in music and have a good opinion of themselves."90

This statement, while profound, is somewhat ambiguous. When Leopold Mozart refers to

'time,' does he simply mean the tempo and 'thrust' of the movement, or does he refer to the timing

of particular nuances within that pulse? Certainly, in the modern age of the metronome,

performers accustom themselves to a very steady sense of the beat, but in the eighteenth century,

a movement's tempo was determined by a performer's ability to discern from the music the

intended affect, and correspondingly, the best speed by which each passage and its sentiment

could be brought to have the strongest possible effect upon the listener. As opposed to the long-

line phrasing of the Romantic style that corresponds to a more flexible, emotionally governed

sense of time, the language of the galant style depended on a structure of regular stress and

release, wherein melodic ideas develop in relationship to that stereotyped rhythmic context. In

this context, where a flexible pulse is not the norm, decisions to pause, stretch, truncate, elide, or

compress the thrust of the music act as specific devices of expression, and are particularly

noticeable since they defy the listener's well-established internal sense of pulse and expectation.

Mozart's music precedes the twentieth century's obsession with perfectly aligned

rhythmic hierarchies (like the perfect meshing of gears in an engine). This mechanical kind of

"musical fashion" is epitomized in Ravel's Bolero (1928), for which he conceived a "stage

design…with a factory in the background, the machine elements of the factory reflected in the

90 Leopold Mozart, Treatise on Violin Playing, 30.

40

relentless mechanical repetition underlying the music."91 Stravinsky's Petrushka was criticized

by Adorno "for its mechanical, 'lifeless' aspects because, he argued, it resulted in

dehumanization:

'The images of mechanical music produce the shock of a modernity which is already past and degraded to a childish level. … [It is] an act of violence against the subject with the enthronement of a mechanical factor as authority."92

The modern performer lives in the shadow of this kind of mechanistic approach to music,

where 'keeping the beat' is the job of the metronome or the conductor, and rarely the soloist or a

leading-member of the ensemble. This way of conceptualizing the music encourages an

unyielding sense of time in which exactness and uniformity are applied to every layer of the

rhythmic hierarchy, denying the possibility for flexibility and a communally agreed-upon sense

of thrust and pulse. What is most noticeable in a comparison of modern and 'period' styles of

performing is the difference in the way time and its components are treated. Interpretations of

Mozart in the 'modern style' lack a certain lightness and clarity of pulse, and seem to exhibit a

greater concern with the power and beauty of tone and melody than with the clear articulation of

meter and gesture. Today, we have a very precise, mechanically oriented concept of time, and we

also tend to apply that evenness to the smaller layers of time as well as the overall structure.

While this does not prohibit flexibility of time in modern performance, it reinterprets it in a way

that does not reflect the same context and aesthetic in which it was created, and does not yield

the intended effect.

What is lost in Mozart's music, under this paradigm, is the very essence of rhetorical

performance – the relationship to the audience. Each piece that he wrote was intended for people

91 Douglas A. Lee, Masterworks of Twentieth-Century Music: The Modern Repertory of the Symphony Orchestra, Routledge NY/London (2002); 329. 92 Jonathan Cross, The Stravinsky Legacy, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK (1998); 36.

41

that understood music (beyond the sheer delight in the sound) as a language in which they

participated as connoisseurs. The units of musical dialogue must be comprehensible in order to

be detectable, and this directly relates to the treatment of time and pulse. Mozart felt that every

piece should be played "in correct time, as it should go, with appropriate expression and taste in

every note, phrase, etc., so that one would suppose the performer had composed it himself."93 If

we are to play as though we composed this music ourselves, then it is appropriate that we explore

every possible avenue to understanding it. To simply aspire to play the music as written, at a

given tempo, without deeper consideration of timing, delivery, and decorum, was the very thing

that musicians of the galant era defined as 'poor taste.' It would serve us well to remember that

"the listener is moved not so much by the skill of the performer as by the beauty which he knows

how to express with his skill."94

Quantz, anticipating a tendency toward mechanical playing, provided the following

prescription for performers in his treatise On Playing the Flute (1752):

"Your principal goal must always be the expression of the sentiment, not quick playing. With skill a musical machine could be constructed that would play certain pieces with a quickness and exactitude so remarkable that no human being could equal it either with his fingers or with his tongue. Indeed it would excite astonishment, but it would never move you; and having heard it several times, and understood its construction, you would even cease to be astonished. Accordingly, those who wish to maintain their superiority over the machine, and wish to touch people, must play each piece with its proper fire; but they must also avoid immoderate haste, if the piece is not to lose all its agreeableness."95

To avoid monotony, we must also avoid a mechanical approach and derive a more

practical, personal way to judge the best tempo for the performance of this music. While an

appropriate tempo should be influenced by the size of the hall, the size and nature of the

93 MacClintock, 383; Mozart to his Father, Jan. 17, 1778. 94 J.J. Quantz, On Playing the Flute, 135. 95 Ibid., 131.

42

ensemble, and above all, the audience, it should first be assessed in practice, from a thorough

investigation and manifold understanding of what the music requires. While it is tempting to rely

on the convenience of the metronome to establish our sense of time, it precludes the development

of a self-generated concept of pulse–"the pulse beat at the hand of a healthy person"–which

Quantz considered the "most useful…guide for tempo."96

Flutists are encouraged to derive the tempo of a movement by looking to the most

technically difficult passage within it. But today's standards of what is executable depend on a

different instrument, a different aural environment, and a different concept of time, lacking the

nuances of rhetorical music that would have been implicit to Mozart. Therefore, we must

consider not only the tempo, but also the implications of the meter and the ways in which various

expressive uses of time bring the music to life. A few basic premises of the rhetorical approach

are outlined below and will later be applied specifically to the piece.

Meter, Rhythm, and the Beat Hierarchy

"In the eighteenth century musicians attached great importance to the hierarchy of beats within a bar, of bars within a phrase and of phrases within the whole. The regular metrical division of the bar-line denoted the importance of the downbeat and, to some extent, in 4/4, 6/8, or 12/8 time also the half-bar."97

In chapter twelve of Leopold Mozart's treatise he describes the hierarchy of beats within

the measure, describing the degree of 'accent' or emphasis given to "the specially strong beats…

[which are].. in every bar, the first note of the first crotchet, [and] the first note of the half-bar or

third crotchet in 4/4 time."98 While the hierarchy of beats is generally introduced to music

students today, our modern relationship to the influence of meter is drastically different from that

of musicians of Mozart's time. Students are as often taught to play 'over the barline' and to create

96 Ibid., 283. 97 Rachel Brown, The Early Flute, 74. 98 Leopold Mozart, Treatise on Violin Playing, 219.

43

long, lyrical phrases with gradual crescendos and decrescendos, ignoring any implied stress that

corresponds to the hierarchy of beats. Certainly there are dynamic shifts in Mozart's music, but

the thrust of a phrase has a much more immediate connection to the hierarchy of beats, wherein

the strongest emphasis always falls on the first beat of a bar of 4/4, and the second strongest falls

on the third quarter note in each bar. Setting up regular patterns of stress and release, then

circumventing and defying those patterns, is a key element of expressing form and emotion in

this music.

Meter is a term "borrowed from poetry, where it defines the flow and the length of the

line by help of feet."99 In music, meter dictates the number of beats in a measure and the

allocation of emphasis within it. In the eighteenth century a composer's concept of meter was

directly influenced by rhetoric and poetry and their music was informed by the way speech

influences the expression of time, and vice versa.

What seems to best define the concept of musical meter, is the correspondence of short syllables to weak beats (also called "bad" beats) of the bar, and long syllables to strong beats (or the "good beats") of the bar. In other words, an iamb, consisting of a short syllable followed by a long syllable, must begin on a weak beat so that the second syllable then falls on a point of metrical stress. On the other hand a trochee consisting of a long syllable followed by a short syllable, must begin on a strong beat and conclude on a weak beat. Koch claims that meter (poetic feet) and metrical stress are so similar to each other that one clarifies the other.100

Classical rhetoric regards rhythm and meter "as the combination and arrangement of

syllabic feet into commas, colons, and periods."101 While slightly varying definitions of musical-

rhetorical terms and their functions multiply with every new source a performer encounters, the

complexly colorful and unmitigated bond between music and language is always visible. This

99 Stephanie Vial, The Art of Musical Phrasing in the Eighteenth Century: Punctuating the Classical "Period", 74. 100 Ibid., 74-75. 101 Ibid., 23.

44

kind of perspective, while complicated and offering few hard-and-fast solutions, does "prove that

neither Beethoven or Mozart, nor Bach and Händel for that matter, thought and felt in that

colorless and thread-bare fashion which people now-a-days are so fond of calling classic repose

and simplicity; that the diversity and inexhaustibility of rhythm was present to and intuitively

seized by them, and that they in truth drank deeply from this well-spring."102

Treatment of Rests In his discussion of musical punctuation (musikalische interpunktion) Türk explains that

when the period, colons, semicolons, and commas of music conclude with visible rests, they are

"perceptible to even the dullest senses."103 But when those "phrase segments, particularly the

smallest members, are not separated from one another by any visible rest, then 'a much more

refined perception' (i.e., a more experienced musical ear) is required in order to find them

quickly."104 The way that "resting points of the spirit" are used to delineate small and large units

of meaning in music is lucidly and thoroughly examined by Stephanie Vial in her book The Art

of Musical Phrasing in the Eighteenth Century: Punctuating the Classical "Period," an

important guide for understanding how methods of punctuation evolved in language and music,

and how rhetorical composers related language to their own music.

Being able to recognize points of punctuation and how they are completed, evaded,

deceived, interrupted, or delayed proves essential to articulating units of musical thought within

a movement. Another drawback of playing Mozart's music in a way that is too even and

mechanical is that it disables the clear expression of these implied points of rest. The following

102 Ibid., 117. 103 Ibid., 64. 104 Ibid.

45

sections–Punctuation & Articulation, and Articulation & Emphasis–explore ways in which to

treat and express the units of punctuation that have been identified in the rhetorical analysis.

Treatment of the Dot

In direct opposition to the regular, even expression of the written rhythms is the practice

of "over-dotting [which] involves the alteration of printed rhythms, prolonging an already dotted

long-note and delaying (contracting) the following short note."105 Quantz states it as common

practice that "in dotted quavers, semiquavers, and demisemiquavers… you depart from the

general rule, because of the animation that these notes express."106 In addition to lengthening the

time of the dotted-notes, C.P.E. Bach and Leopold Mozart recommended that those dotted notes

be lifted "in a springing style," in order to properly express the implied liveliness of dotted

gestures in fast tempi.107 The dotted figure was meant to express an affect, not a sterile, fixed, or

abstract rhythm. More than a measure of exact time, it was a tool of musical rhetoric.

The practice of extending the duration of dotted notes to produce a livelier affect is an

element of performance practice generally not recognized today outside of the Historically

Informed Performance movement. We are taught to abide by the rhythms of Mozart's music

exactly–counting each dotted note for its full value and no more, and making sure that the short

notes that follow are played exactly in time, not slightly late, or shorter than indicated (as was

still the tradition in Mozart's time). But this uniform treatment of dotted notes only obscures the

elements of rhythm and metric stress detailed above, and ultimately masks the intended affect. In

the following section titled Articulation and Emphasis, suggestions for implementing a more

rhetorical treatment of the dot will be detailed.

105 Ibid., 84 106 Ibid. 107 Ibid.

46

Treatment of Slurs The simple indication of a slur holds a different meaning for the modern performer than it

did for a performer of the 18th century. It was understood that "if in a musical composition two,

three, four, and even more notes be bound together by the half circle, so that one recognizes

therefrom that the composer wishes the notes not to be separated but played singingly in one

slur, the first of such united notes must be somewhat more strongly stressed, but the remainder

slurred on to it quite smoothly and more and more quietly."108 On wind instruments, this implied

emphasis was achieved by "giving force to the first note and softness to the second."109

"This eighteenth-century concept of the slur, so fundamental a part of contemporary

'articulation' and performance style, had begun to disappear" by the mid-1800's.110 "The implied

convention of an accent or stress on the first note, followed by a softer, gentle release, simply

ceased to be aesthetically desirable amidst the more powerful, sustaining ability of instruments,

combined with the tendency for phrases to lean forward towards the middle of the measure and

away from downbeats.111 The modern concept of the slur runs the risk of obscuring the beat

hierarchy and the thrust of the meter, and often blurs the expression of rhetorical gestures, resting

points, and musical ideas. The aforementioned 'eighteenth-century concept of the slur' will be

referred to throughout the following sections on performance practice and applied to various

examples of phrasing and gesture.

Tempo & Style

The first movement of this concerto is marked Allegro, which "indicates a cheerful,

though not too hurried a tempo, especially [as is the case here] when moderated by

108 Ibid., 129. 109 Ibid., 128. 110 Ibid. 111 Ibid., 128-129.

47

adjectives…such as: … Maestoso, with majesty; deliberately, not hurried."112 In order to

determine how the adverb "cheerfully" and the adjectives "majestic" and "deliberate" apply to

this piece, one must first determine the style of the piece.

To clarify the idea of style, the best division is: the high, the middle or moderate, and the low or comic. The high style encompasses all great, exalted, dreadful feelings, and violent passions. The middle-style includes softer and milder feelings, such as love, calmness, satisfaction, cheerfulness, and joy, and in the low style we include that which is more popular and obvious than genteel, more trifling and merry than clever, and particularly, everything that pertains to caricature and comedy. Instrumental music, which is an echo of the feelings that vocal music expresses, is also classified accordingly; except that instrumental music, in addition, tries to arouse wonder by means of brilliant passages proper to the virtuoso technique of the instrument.113

This flute concerto falls into the "middle style," as do most virtuosic instrumental pieces

and concertos of the time. "Dignity of musical style reflected the consciousness of status in 18th-

century life, the fundamental principle in a social order organized according to clergy, nobility,

bourgeois, and peasant and their internal rankings."114 The purpose of a piece in the middle-style

is to delight and entertain the nobility, and to display a soloist's skill and musical sensitivity. It

does not aim to edify the audience, to elicit intense feelings or passions, or to represent sacred

(high-style) or farcical (low-style) topics. Unlike the high-style of expression, which "called for

maintenance of the ruling sentiment, with limited contrast throughout a principal section,"115 in

the middle-style Allegro, "the passions change frequently… The performer must therefore seek

to transport himself into each of these passions, and to express it suitably. Hence it is necessary

to investigate whether the piece to be played consists entirely of gay ideas, or whether these are

112 Leopold Mozart, A Treatise on Violin Playing, 50-51. 113 Leonard Ratner, Classic Music: Expression, Form, and Style, 364. 114 Ibid., 364. 115 Ibid., 365.

48

joined to others of a different kind."116 As has been made clear by the rhetorical analysis, the first

movement of K. 313 contains many contrasting melodies and affects, and requires a tempo that

allows the most elegant expression of the "part-writing, suspensions, and sudden changes of

topic."117 While it may sound technically impressive, playing the movement at too fast a tempo

ignores the possibility for a more sensitive rhetorical interpretation. In the case of this allegro, it

does a performer well to remember, "where fire is lacking in the music, speed cannot add

anything."118

The Allegro of Mozart's time also called for a more detached, speech-like playing style

than the Adagio, in which notes are connected (as in singing) and held to their full values (with

the exception of dotted-notes, which were held longer). Quantz prescribes that "quick passage-

work must be played above all roundly, correctly, and distinctly, and with liveliness and

articulation,"119 but he reminds the performer "never [to] lose your composure. For everything

that is hurriedly played causes your listeners anxiety rather than satisfaction."120 Hurrying

virtuosic passages during performance was as frequent a problem in the eighteenth century as it

is now. It was coined the "universal fault" by Leopold Mozart, and addressed by Quantz in the

following passage:121

Pains must be taken to play each note with its proper value, and to avoid carefully either hurrying or dragging… Hurrying of passage-work may occur, particularly in ascending notes, if the fingers are raised too quickly. To avoid this, the first note of quick figures must be stressed and held slightly… especially since the principal notes should always be heard a little longer than the passing ones. To

116 J.J. Quantz, On Playing the Flute, 133. 117 Leonard Ratner, Classic Music: Expression, Form, and Style, 184. 118 Ibid. 119 J.J. Quantz, On Playing the Flute, 129. 120 Ibid., 131. 121 MacClintock, 381; Mozart from Augsburg, Oct. 23, 1777.

49

this end, the principal notes which for the fundamental melody may also be stressed from time to time through chest action.122

In order to determine the appropriate degree of speed, we must first identify the various

affects and their corresponding figures and passages. It is the pronunciation and expression of

these figures that require emphasis, nuance, and clarity, so next we will look to the elements of

punctuation and articulation that define them.

Punctuation & Articulation

Music, like well-constructed speech, has several levels of punctuation and articulation.

Stephanie Vial explains "articulation in the daily discourse of the modern musician has acquired

such broad usage that its significance is often obscured. We speak of 'articulating' this or that

passage in a kind of catch-all manner with any variety of meanings and on any number of levels,

many of which easily merge into the realm of punctuation."123 The New Harvard Dictionary

acknowledges the complex meaning of the word articulation, providing two definitions:

(1) In performance, the characteristics of attack and decay of single tones or groups of tones and the means by which these characteristics are produced. Thus, for example, staccato and legato are types of articulation. In the playing of stringed instruments, this is largely a function of bowing; in wind instruments, of tonguing. Groups of tones may be articulated (i.e. "phrased") so as to be perceived as constituting phrases…. (2) In the analysis of musical form, a boundary or point of demarcation between formal segments, e.g., that produced by a cadence or rest. As a compositional process, articulation is comparable to punctuation in language.124

Vial takes great care to distinguish between articulations that are punctuating, indicating

the larger units of phrase (periods, commas, etc.), and those that are "nonpunctuating," and serve

122 J.J. Quantz, On Playing the Flute, 130. 123 Stephanie Vial, The Art of Musical Phrasing in the Eighteenth Century: Punctuating the Classical "Period", 121. 124 Ibid.

50

as a "special kind of expression" that helps to establish the affect of the phrase.125 Her goal is to

distinguish the terms punctuation and articulation, so as to better "understand the capacity in

which we use" them.126

In the fifth chapter of his violin treatise Leopold Mozart identifies the tools of

punctuation in a footnote: "The stops and pauses are the Incisiones, Distinctiones,

Interpunctiones, and so on. But what sort of animals these are must be known to great

grammarians, or better still, rhetoricians or poets. But here we see also that a good violinist [or

flutist] must have this knowledge."127 In addition, he emphasizes the importance of Diastolica:

"the theory which explains how speech is made intelligible through the modulating influence of

punctuation."128 This 'modulating influence' is easily visible when applied to the following

sentences: "He lost his life, not only his fortune," and "He lost his life not, only his fortune."

Each have "an entirely different meaning according to the way in which [they are]

punctuated."129

Measures 38-40 of the accompanying score analysis provide an opportunity to apply a

schemata-based method of punctuation to open the possibilities for different expressions of the

same musical line. The solo flute enters in measure 38 and begins a cadential figure implying the

approach of a more final resting point, but that resting point is evaded in measure 40 when the

bass suddenly enters with a Prinner melody. Because a final resting point was circumvented, it is

necessary to express that to the audience. However, many instances of modern phrasing indicate

that the flute's line does indeed resolve very briefly on the D that follows the trill in m. 40. This

125 Ibid., 125, 126. 126 Ibid., 124. 127 Leopold Mozart, A Treatise on Violin Playing, 101. 128 Stephanie Vial, The Art of Musical Phrasing in the Eighteenth Century: Punctuating the Classical "Period", 125. 129 Ibid., 132.

51

interpretation requires that the trill be carried through to full value, and that the following

sixteenth notes F# and E be slurred into the D. If this phrasing is employed, then the last three

eighth notes of the bar will act as the pick-up to the next part of the phrase.

But this interpretation does not take into account that another Prinner begins on the F# in

m. 40, which itself acts as a written-out upper-neighbor to E, the first structural note of the

Prinner melody. Based on this information I propose a phrasing in which the incise (comma,

small pause) comes after the G trill in measure 40, with a very slight breath or lift taken from the

time of the trill, and a re-articulation of the two sixteenth notes, leading into a slightly

emphasized D, treated as an opening figure, not a closing one. I feel this allows a true surprise,

and also creates a bigger upbeat, with five eighth-notes leading to a more emphatic (and

articulate) landing on the downbeat of m. 41 (and the second true structural note of the Prinner

melody).

I suppose it could be argued that the ensemble motion arriving rhythmically together on

the third quarter note of m. 40 indicates a resting-point, and the flute line should follow suit. But

the nature of this section is to elide phrases, to deceive expectation, and the first-inversion chord

that results on the third beat of m. 40 is not stable enough to imply any real resolution. Instead it

is a pivot point, one that ends by interrupting and becomes an avenue for the delay of resolution.

If observed as such, the line takes on a more dynamic shape and character, and incorporates the

staccato D (third beat, m. 40) into the opening G major arpeggio of the new phrase. This conveys

an exciting and playful surprise and avoids the monotony that results from playing the entire line

as one unpunctuated sentence, or the confusion that results from treating something irresolute as

a point of rest.

52

Another instance where schemata-based rhetorical phrasing can greatly influence the

punctuation begins in m. 46 with a Fonte, which serves "to digress from, and then return to, a

main key.130 [The Fonte] was used throughout the eighteenth century…" and "in concertos, arias,

and other long works, large Fontes often function as digressive episodes."131 Mozart executes

this digression in a clever and eloquent way, building the Fonte out of other smaller schemata

which must be clearly expressed, for they contain a variety of contrasting figures that serve to

communicate frequently changing affects.

Coinciding with the Fonte in m. 46 is a Meyer (inverted), which "was often chosen for

important themes [in this case, Melody 6]. Its period of greatest currency was the 1760's and the

1780's."132 This schema only lasts until the downbeat of m. 48, at which point the 'Descending

Thirds' schema begins. This is a drastically different figure from the Meyer, and must be

differentiated. Modern performers often treat the D# in m. 47 as a leading tone to a strong, full

eighth note downbeat–but this would be an exception to the rule that the second note of a slur

receives less emphasis, and often obscures or delays the 'Descending Thirds' figure that follows.

In regards to punctuation, because this is the end of the Meyer, there must be a clear but

brief point of rest indicated here, if only by allowing a very slight lift on the E downbeat of m. 48

(in observance of the treatment of slurs). Note how Mozart's indication of the slur contradicts the

general practice of the stronger downbeat, creating a displaced trochee (long-short), with the

long, strong-note beginning on the preceding measure's weaker beat four. The ensemble's figures

that follow in m. 48 invert that pronunciation with iambic figures, giving emphasis to the third

beat and the downbeat of the next measure. Meanwhile, the flute's 'Descending Thirds' schema

130 R. O. Gjerdingen, Music in the Galant Style, 456. 131 Ibid. 132 Ibid., 459.

53

swings in syncopation, using the shorter notes of the "strong" beats as springboards for the

following affective melodic figures.

According to sources of the time, a performer should put a slight emphasis on the highest

notes of the slurred figures, leaving an almost imperceptible space at the end of each slur. In this

way, the downbeat of m. 49 would be given space to be well-placed, and well-heard, and would

be emphasized slightly, as is appropriate for the brief, slurred dissonances that fall on the

downbeats throughout the measure. Modern practice often assumes that all notes, even if slurred,

should be played for their exactly full and even value–and quite often flutists crescendo through

the slurred patterns, stealing the space that the shorter notes need to be heard and on time.

The above are examples of how examining structural melodies in conjunction with

punctuating slurs and resting points gives a performer more options in developing a personal and

thoughtful interpretation of the music's phrasing. Next we will consider how articulation and

emphasis influence the expression of these melodies.

Articulation & Emphasis

"Articulation signifies the degree of separation between notes and figures in performance;

it also refers to degrees of emphasis. Instructions for articulation in performance stressed clarity

above all (Deutlichkeit). For Türk, clarity depends on mechanically proper delivery, emphasis,

and the proper connection and separation of musical periods.133 Mechanical clarity referred to

"each tone of the most rapid passage" in a movement as "heard distinctly separated from the

other tones. Tones without specific staccato or slur signs [were] played somewhat shorter than

their indicated duration, followed by a slight rest, which completes the note length… These

recommendations corroborate those of C. P. E. Bach, 1753-1762, Quantz, 1752, and Leopold

133 Leonard Ratner, Classic Music: Expression, Form, and Style, 190.

54

Mozart, 1756. While there is some difference of opinion concerning the exact degree of

detachment… all evidence points to some degree of détaché as a norm for performance."134

"Détaché promoted the management of emphasis."135 Three different kinds of emphasis

are distinguished by Rousseau, Hiller, Koch, and Christmann–the grammatical accent, "the

normal stress that occurs at the beginning of a measure or other metric group"–the oratorical

accent, "a stress given to an important melodic note, whether or not it falls upon the normal

grammatical accent–and the pathetic accent, "an especially intense oratorical accent, often upon

a salient dissonant melodic tone."136 A diverse palette of options for tonguing and its applications

can be found in the major flute treatises of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Rachel

Brown includes a complete list of "Flute treatises and tutors in chronological order" in Appendix

A of her book The Early Flute: A Practical Guide.

Quantz devoted chapter VI of his treatise to enumerating the ways in which the tongue

can be used in blowing upon the flute. He introduces the use of syllables ti and di as single

tongue techniques, and describes two types of double tongue–"tiri for dotted notes and

moderately quick passage-work," and did'll, for very quick passage-work."137 Quantz praises the

usefulness of tiri in distinguishing the slightly unequal quality of notes in moderately quick

passage work. He explains that "the accent falls on the second syllable; the ti short, and the ri

long. Hence the ri must always be used for the note on the downbeat, and the ti for the note on

the upbeat."138 To understand how and why this variety of tonguing may be applied to the flute

concerto, we will first examine another phrase of Mozart's that resembles the solo flute's opening

134 Ibid., 191. 135 Ibid. 136 Ibid. 137 J. J. Quantz, On Playing the Flute, 74. 138 Ibid., 76.

55

measures. The following example is taken from one of Mozart's earliest vocal works, and shares

exactly the same rhythm as the flute's line in m. 31.

Ex. 1. K. 21, opening theme - Arie für Tenor, Va, dal furor portata (1765, London), (text Metastasio) [Allegro], (Köchel, 34)

The structure of the text clearly places the most emphasis on the first beat, coinciding

with the word “va,” or “go,” which is a powerful statement and expression unto itself. The next

beat (the weak second beat) is given a dotted eighth-note, and assigned the word “dal,” which

has a closed ending and does not allow for a natural emphasis or sustained vowel. According to

the aforementioned treatment of the dot, a slight lift would separate the dotted note from its

succeeding sixteenth, thus corroborating the textually closed syllable. "Furor," the first two-

syllable word in the text, implies a rhythmic relationship of the quick upbeat leading to an

emphatic second syllable, creating a disyllable of an iamb. The next word of the text, "portata,"

has a natural emphasis falling on the middle syllable "ta." This accented syllable is not only

placed on the strong downbeat of the second measure, but also begins a slur, lending it additional

emphasis. Using an example of a familiar rhythm with the text that Mozart employed enables us

to relate it directly to speech. In this way, we see the natural punctuation and variety of emphasis

that is required of the music, and can relate it to how we as flutists might articulate the same

rhythm. To express this, a suggested articulation (according to Quantz' guidelines) involves the

syllables ti, di, and tiri, as shown below.139

Ex. 2. K. 313 - Measure 31 with suggested tonguing 139 Ibid., 73, 77.

56

The eighth-note D that begins m. 32 is slurred to the following eighth-note C, again

indicating that the D "should be very gently (and almost imperceptibly) accented"… and the C

should receive a "gentle release" that serves "to provide a 'fresh impulse' or 'an appropriate

distinctness' without impeding the flow of the line."140 This subtle lift is necessary so that the

entrance of the half-note 'C' that follows is not obscured by a consistently connected tone (the

slur is not solely a method of grouping notes, but serves to articulate them as a comprehendible

gesture). The function of the following half-note 'C' should also be considered.

Why did Mozart choose to begin this half note on a weak-beat (beat 2), and why did he

choose the pitch of 'C', the seventh of the 'dominant' harmony? My opinion is that the 'C' half-

note is meant to act as a distinct syncopation, taking advantage of the dissonance of the tri-tone

against the bass, and breaking the rule of the implicit 'beat hierarchy' to set in the minds of the

listener a theme that will recur throughout the piece. The importance of the half note C is easily

visible in the schematic analysis, as it acts as the second note in the Romanesca melody that is

being employed here. Instead of a resting point before a breath, this half-note should act as a

distinct structural note of the melody, displacing the regular rhythmic feel of the first measure

and allowing the next downbeat figure to come as a surprise. For this half-note C (and other

sustained notes) "the stroke [of the tongue] must not be firm; hence you must use di instead of ti.

It should be noted that while in the ti the tongue immediately springs back against the palate, in

140 Stephanie Vial, The Art of Musical Phrasing in the Eighteenth Century: Punctuating the Classical "Period", 132.

57

the di it must remain free in the middle of the mouth, so that the wind is not kept from sustaining

the tone."141

Looking again to the schematic-analysis, the downbeat A grace note of m. 33 does act as

a structural note of the Romanesca melody. The call for special emphasis on this downbeat is

three fold. Besides being the first beat of the measure and the beginning of a slur, the A is also a

dissonant tone in respect to the harmony. "To excite the different passions the dissonances must

be struck more strongly than the consonances", as Quantz reminds us.142 Playing this A without

additional emphasis is a missed opportunity in all regards, but that note is not the only one to be

considered in this way. Another important structural melody note precedes it, and that is the B,

an eighth note before the downbeat of m. 33. In performance, this B is rarely distinguished as the

true pickup to the next measure, and is usually masked in a smooth, even 'slur-two-tongue-two'

pattern of descending sixteenth-notes that begins on the preceding D. To emphasize the D and

deprive the B of emphasis would defy the schematic melody as well as the harmony–for the B is

a dissonance while the D and C that precede it are not, and should add to the emphasis of the B.

It is my opinion that to clearly articulate (using ti) and slightly emphasize the B would result in a

more distinct and playful downbeat in m.33, and would establish a rhythmic pattern that is

directly elaborated and corroborated in mm. 38, 39, and 40 (if one will accept my previous

suggestion of the treatment of those sixteenth notes following the trill in m. 40).

While the above interpretation may be arrived at intuitively by any performer it is

important we have concrete reasons for the musical decisions we make, particularly as teachers

of the music. The above combination of tools as applied to the entire movement would clearly

yield a way of considering the expression of the punctuation and articulation that is thoughtful

141 J. J. Quantz, On Playing the Flute, 73. 142 Ibid., 254.

58

and that directly corresponds to a rhetorical perspective. Recognizing melodic schemata aids in

determining the important structural notes and how they can be used to produce effective (and

affective) pronunciation and declamation in performance. A wide variety of expressive

articulation can be achieved by applying Quantz' (and many other eighteenth-century writers')

principles of tonguing to the modern flute, and I believe that incorporating these resources into

each musician's training and education can only lead to fresh perspectives and enlivened music

making.

Ornaments, Cadenzas, and Improvisation:

In all the arts, the taste for ornamentation changed radically in the last quarter of the eighteenth-century. To take only one example, the infinitely repeating designs for fabrics used in the upholstery of chairs and sofas were gradually replaced by centralized compositions. For mural decoration the simple folds of hanging draperies were preferred to more elaborate systems. These tendencies are obviously reflected within the musical style of the period, with its centrally placed point of tension and its clarity of form… To equate the practice of Mozart (and Haydn after 1780) with that of J.S. Bach or even C.P.E. Bach is to ignore one of the most sweeping revolutions of taste in history. The musical ornamentation of the first half of the eighteenth century was an essential element in the achievement of continuity: the decoration not only covered the underlying musical structure but kept it always flowing. The High Baroque in music had a horror of the void, and the agreéments fill what empty space there was. The decoration of the classical style, on the other hand, articulates structure. The chief ornament retained from the Baroque is, significantly, the final cadential trill. Other ornaments are used more rarely, and they are almost always fully written out–necessarily so, as they have become thematic.143

While an Allegro cannot indulge the kind of ornamentation that would be appropriate in

an Adagio, there are still many choices to be made in interpreting the graces, divisions, and

appoggiaturas that are indicated in this movement. As the above text suggests, directly applying

the principles of earlier composers' writings on ornamentation to the music of W. A. Mozart is

particularly ineffective. He was at the forefront of what was in vogue at the time, and aesthetic

143 Charles Rosen, The Classical Style: Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, 107-108.

59

tastes changed radically over very short spans of time throughout the 18th century. A comparison

of earlier and later styles is valuable to understanding the nature and application of

ornamentation, and how that corresponds to regional, national, and personal styles of

composition throughout history. "Above all, it is imperative for the enlightened performer to

know that there are no easy automatic rules, that he has to figure out every case on its merits,

realizing that the worst thing, then as now, is any sense of rigidity and formulaic stereotype."144

The placement and duration of graces must be carefully considered, as they have a great

influence on the affect and pronunciation of a given figure. In m. 46 the rhetorical figure

acciaccatura is a helpful tool in conceiving of how the accompanying graces should be played.

Recalling Bartel's definition of acciaccatura–an additional, dissonant note added to a chord,

which is released immediately after its execution–it is clear that these small notes should be

played quickly. According to Neumann, because these graces fall on "even binary notes," they

should be played before the beat, so as not to obscure the underlying anapestic rhythm.145 These

quick pre-beat graces can also be found in mm. 70-71. Playing the grace notes before the notes to

which they are slurred allows a natural emphasis to fall on the ascending stepwise melodic eighth

notes that culminate on the downbeat of m. 71. In other words, these iambic disyllables should

be pronounced like the word "hoo-ray," with the emphasis falling on the second syllable. This

interpretation allows an unobscured landing on the half-note A on the downbeat of m. 71, which

must not be displaced, for it also functions as the beginning of a pathopoeia, which in turn acts

as a surprising and effective transition to the next melodic section.

144 F. Neumann & J. R. Stevens, Performance Practices of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries, 359. 145 Ibid., 348.

60

The aforementioned grace notes act in direct contrast to the almost identical phrase in m.

60, where the emphasis falls on the first sixteenth note of each ascending third figure. As

opposed to m. 70, the disyllables in m. 60 are pronounced "fa-ther," taking on a trochaic rhythm

and resulting in an appoggiatura (accentus) on the downbeat of m. 61. Here, the B grace-note

would be played on the beat, last the span of an eighth note, and would receive a slight emphasis.

As is true for all graces and appoggiaturas, the B grace-note would be slurred to the A that

succeeds it, which correspondingly would be given a slight lift before articulating the dotted-

quarter note A (using the syllable di).

This small variation between the expressions of like figures is a perfect example of the

highly rhetorical quality of Mozart's music. The subject of "Skipping Thirds" is first asserted by

the strings in m. 59. A figure of interrogatio, this musical idea seems to demand an answer from

the solo line, to which the flute responds aptly, proving its ability to treat the subject confidently

and with mastery. But the strings assert the theme again in m. 69, as if more is required from the

solo line to convince the tutti. At this point, instead of repeating himself, Mozart varies the

emphasis on these ascending thirds to surprise the listener, who has become accustomed to

hearing the thirds with the emphasis on the first of each couple. The lighter, less pedantic feel of

the iambic thirds in m. 70 delights the ear, but instead of continuing on with another triumphant,

assertive response, the solo line almost immediately becomes tender, and begins the pathopoeia

mentioned above.

Other written out appoggiaturas can be found throughout the piece and appear in mm. 36-

38, where they function thematically, referring to the fourth beat of the flute's line in m. 32

where the figure is introduced. All these small appoggiaturas should be played on the beat with a

slight emphasis, and slurred to their succeeding notes, which are played without emphasis, and

61

with a very slight lift. In some cases, the intended value of an appoggiatura is indicated by its

context within the rest of the rhythmic texture. For example, in m. 124 an appoggiatura is

indicated on the downbeat, and clearly lasts for an eighth note, matching the rhythm in the

violins and viola. To hold the note longer, or release it earlier, would muddy the clarity of the

measure's rhythmic expression.

In order to determine how a trill should be treated, a performer must consider the function

of the trill, its underlying harmony, and the melodic structure of which it is a part. There exists a

plethora of writings on the interpretation of ornamentation in Mozart's music. Certainly any

exploration of the execution and variety of ornamentation that was used in Mozart's time will

expand a performer's palette, allowing her to vary her use of ornaments in ways that delight and

surprise her audience.

"Throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries trills were enormously varied in their arrangement and number of notes, length, speed, dynamic shape and manner of termination. Whilst a few examples of trills starting on the main note were recorded by the violinists Geminiani and Leopold Mozart… almost all flute methods of the eighteenth century stipulated trills starting on the upper note. The addition of a dissonant grace note at the start of the trill greatly enhanced the harmony and this appoggiatura was often the only true upper note since subsequent upper notes were produced on a false fingering. Many tutors notated the appoggiaturas in their fingering charts. Quantz believed that plain trilled notes implied the addition of an appoggiatura as well as a two-note termination which was sometimes notated as grace notes or fast notes. However, trills without termination were very common, especially in French repertoire."146

Despite the much corroborated general rule that dictates trills should begin on the upper-

note, Frederick Neumann makes a compelling argument for the frequent and necessary use of the

primary-note trill in Mozart's music, asserting that "there is no trill type that was out of bounds to

him. It is a mistake with Mozart, too, to try to confine him to the upper-note-on-the-beat design,

146 Rachel Brown, The Early Flute, 95-96.

62

the 'appoggiatura trill'… That he used the appoggiatura trill is quite certain–but as one among

various types, and probably far less often than is frequently assumed."147 Various situations in

which a primary-note trill may be appropriate include "trills that are preceded by the slurred

upper neighbor, trills on dissonant notes, in the bass, or at the end of rising scales, trills after a

sharply attacked anacrusis on the same pitch, trills in chains, and finally, trills in various special

circumstances that are hard to classify."148 (Neumann, 440)

Measures 43, 66, 87 and 90 contain trills in which an upper-note beginning would be

tasteful. Conversely, measures 67, 71, 82, 127, 129, 131, 133, 135, and 137 contain trills for

which primary-note execution could easily be considered, if not deemed essential. Two different

functions and possible approaches to apply to trills can be seen in the close comparison of those

in measures 66 and 67. The first trill (m. 66) has a written appoggiatura, most likely intended to

be played on the beat and with noticeable emphasis to bring out the dissonance it creates with the

bass. The second trill (m. 67) has no written appoggiatura, and its primary note is a dissonant G

to the A in the bass. In this case it would make little sense to emphasize the upper note, as it

would create no added dissonance. As it is best to emphasize the primary note in this case, one

could replace the trill with a turn, extending and stressing the G slightly before executing the

ornament.

The treatment of turns is described at length in performance manuals of the eighteenth

century, as are the terminations of trills and the ways that upper and primary-note trills are

approached. While substituting the turn for a primary note trill in m. 67 is not the only possible

treatment, it is one that emphasizes the contrast in affect between two similar figures. Mozart's

147 F. Neumann & J. R. Stevens, Performance Practices of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries, 437-438. 148 Ibid., 440.

63

flute concerto gives us ample opportunity to make decisions about how to approach trills, how to

resolve them, what speed to play them, and with what shape. Much can be gained by

experimenting with the myriad options suggested in primary and secondary sources addressing

the topic of ornamentation, and the suggestions above are in no way proposed as the only

possibilities.

The first 175 pages of Neumann’s Ornamentation and Improvisation in Mozart are

dedicated to the different kinds and treatments of ornaments, and the last hundred pages are

devoted to improvisation. Neumann recognizes that Mozart lived in a time “when composers still

gave the performer license to make certain improvisatory additions to the written text,” but

warns performers to “stay clear of the dual dangers of too little and too much.”149 It is important

but challenging “to identify what could be called the ‘white spots’ in Mozart’s music, spots left

unfinished to be finished by the performer, where the latter’s failure to do so leaves an

undesirable void.”150 In faster movements there is significantly less room for improvisation,

however even the Urtext edition of K. 313 indicates that in measures 60, 62, 178, and 180,

liberties could be taken while the soloist is without accompaniment. Whether this relates to time

or the filling in of notes is unclear, nonetheless the issue should be pursued. Soloists were

expected to take some liberties, as opposed to the members of the ensemble, who were never to

improvise ornaments.

Such liberties include the cadenza (paragoge) indicated in m. 215, which begins

melodically on the fifth scale degree of G major at the start of the coda. The harmonic goal of the

cadenza is to move from the tonic chord in second inversion to the dominant key by way of

deriving, developing, embellishing, combining, sequencing, and harmonically altering melodic

149 Ibid., 181. 150 Ibid.

64

units. While "cadenzas must stem from the principal sentiment of the piece," the melodic ideas

within a cadenza may be freshly invented, or drawn from the "most pleasing of the preceding

phrases."151

Quantz (1752) presented the idea of thematic reference as new, whilst by 1791 Tromlitz described this 'emergency aid' [as] 'old and well known', only to be considered if inspiration failed. Türk (1786) supported using 'some of the important ideas–to be sure not in their entirety, but nevertheless in extracted form'. Quoting wholesale from the piece was to be avoided; even a complete, unaltered phrase was probably too predictable. Ornamenting the melody or leading elsewhere, or developing just a fragment was preferable. Quantz reminded his readers, 'The object of the cadenza is simply to surprise the listener unexpectedly once more at the end of the piece, and to leave behind a special impression in his heart.' This was usually achieved by a brief allusion to another key or keys, without actually modulating.152

A thorough exploration of available information on the creation of cadenzas and an

understanding of simple harmony are imperative to being able to improvise in an appropriate

style. Robert Levin provides intriguing cadenzas in the Urtext edition of K.313. For this

movement, two choices are given, an (A) cadenza and a (B) cadenza, of which the parts (melodic

units) are interchangeable. This lends some insight into the construction of cadenzas, as well as

into Mozart’s concept of melodic fragments and how they were combined and put into play.

With an understanding of the schemata related to this piece, one could fashion a cadenza by

developing and concatenating various expressions of those units.

Even among experts there are varying opinions as to whether performers should compose

or improvise their own cadenzas, particularly if there is one extant that was written by Mozart.

The lack of one for K.313 is both a blessing and a curse, for we will never know just what

Mozart would have conjured. However, we are forced to deal with the issue, or fall into the

abominable category of doing nothing. Neumann insists that it is impossible that anyone could

151 J. J. Quantz, On Playing the Flute, 181-182. 152 Rachel Brown, The Early Flute, 107-108.

65

come up with a cadenza of the caliber of Mozart’s, much less improvise one on the spot! Levin,

on the other hand, points a finger at the “decline in the stringency of music theory requirements

in schools throughout the world,” and asserts that this has led to a situation

in which performers master the syllabic surface of the works they play without sufficient knowledge of the language that underpins it. No wonder, then, that it is still relatively rare to hear a performance of Classical music that goes beyond the printed page; and when it does, the embellishments and cadenzas presented are usually the product of careful preparation rather than risk-laden spontaneity. How discouraging it is that the lack of freedom in performances of art music – practiced by performers with years of training – results in far less communicative power than jazz and popular music, whose equally dazzling virtuosi are often unable to read music but honour their instincts and always use their language actively. If visits to concerts often seem indistinguishable from attendance at church, it is because we have prized heritage over its content. Mozart’s music possessed none of this patina when it was written.153

I believe strongly that by introducing students to the compositional methods of Mozart's

time, by providing them with an expressive toolkit, and by teaching them that this style of music

is a language that one can learn to 'speak' fluently, we can inspire a resurgence of improvisation

in the performance of historical music. In order to do this, students must understand the basic

principles of this music's construction and be encouraged to experiment with them. The cadenza

of the flute concerto's first movement is a fitting place to begin this exploration of concepts of

improvisation and composition.

Pitch, Temperament & Tuning

The term "pitch" in this case refers to the tuning pitch of an ensemble. By now it is

commonly understood by musicians that the exact frequency of this tone (usually A) has

undergone great flux over time and throughout regions, and had not yet been largely

standardized at 440hz until the twentieth century. Many historical performance ensembles have

153 Robert Levin, (1992). Improvised Embellishments in Mozart’s Keyboard Music. Early Music, Vol. 20, No. 2: 221.

66

adopted a standard but lower pitch of A = 415hz. For these ensembles, simple-system wooden

flutes based on historical models are used instead of the Boehm system metal flutes that are

standard today. Anyone interested in experimenting with various reference pitches for ensembles

should consult Bruce Haynes' book A History of Performing Pitch: The Story of "A", wherein

one can find the exact pitches used in Mozart's time, within a great degree of accuracy.

Unfortunately efforts to recreate a variety in reference pitch would be greatly hindered by the

lack of variation in instrument construction today. Quantz recommended that every flutist know

how to make his own flute. Flutists of his time experienced a much greater diversity of flute

sounds and styles of construction. Understanding the way that various styles of flutes are

constructed lends great insight into differences in pitch, scale, timbre, temperament, and tuning.

This knowledge could only add to the available options for variety and mastery in the playing of

our instruments, and should be explored.

Writers of Mozart's time make frequent reference to the importance of intonation, and by

this they mean the relative tuning between the intervals, not the absolute pitch of the ensemble.

This kind of relative intonation is an issue with which today's flutists are intimately familiar, but

the way we conceive of it differs greatly from performers of Mozart's time. Much of a flutist's

training is focused on the development of finger-technique and strength (if not beauty) of tone,

but less time is given to understanding the mathematical and aural subtleties of intonation, and

how to train the ear to different temperaments. The directive to train one's student in these issues

is ubiquitous among treatises of the galant period. Tromlitz goes into great detail to advise on the

treatment of each scale and interval, and he suggests that each student should learn the rudiments

of intonation by tuning a keyboard instrument repeatedly and meticulously until a good ear is

developed.

67

To learn to tune or temper a keyboard instrument, one should proceed as follows: one should first try to learn to tune the unison correctly, namely to attempt to tune two strings next to one another so that they sound like only one; this is not so easy, and since it has so much effect on how the instruments of the orchestra, especially the violins, tune together, it should not be treated lightly, as so often happens, but one should make an effort to learn this most thoroughly…Now try to hear and learn to tune a completely pure fifth; if you cannot do it on your own then do it with the help of a teacher. Repeat this until this interval has fixed itself in the ear. Then tune down an octave from this fifth, and impress it on the ear as strongly as possible by frequent repetition… When these have been practiced long enough and impressed firmly on the ear, one can begin to temper. Now this can only be done on the fifth, and the other intervals arise out of it; unison and octave cannot be tempered, but must be absolutely pure. To learn to temper the fifth correctly, one should first of all try to learn to tune the perfect fifth quite pure, and then let it beat lower as far as it can so that the ear is not offended, but bears it easily and gladly… Although it is used less on the string and wind instruments than pure intervals, this exercise does serve to teach one to hear the perfect fifth more surely and certainly.154

Tromlitz continues to describe instructions for how to tune a keyboard instrument in a

sixth-comma mean-tone tuning, which generates fifths that are slightly narrower than pure fifths,

and major thirds that are slightly wider than pure major thirds. This tuning system differs greatly

from the equal-tempered one that prevails as the standard today. In Mozart's time, equal

temperament was overwhelmingly regarded as an 'inharmonious system of 12 hemitones'

producing a 'harmony extremely coarse and disagreeable'."155 A mean-tone tuning necessitates

the narrowing of the fifth to a greater degree than 12-tone equal temperament. The great

advantage of this process is that it produces major thirds, minor thirds, major sixths, and minor

sixths that are significantly closer to just intonation than their equal-tempered counterparts. This

results in tonal structures of triadic music that are significantly more euphonious than in equal

temperament. A significant byproduct of this tuning is that enharmonic pitches are not

equivalent, but are rather separated by an interval referred to as a comma (not to be confused

154 J. G. Tromlitz, The Virtuoso Flute Player, 117. 155 A. Powell, The Flute, 148.

68

with the term of punctuation). Tromlitz describes the significance of the comma in the following

quote from chapter three of his 1791 tutor The Virtuoso Flute Player:

The subject of Eb and D# keys and their use remains to be discussed. I have frequently pointed out that the correct use of these keys is a matter of great importance; now I would like to try to clarify this, and to attempt to demonstrate the necessity for the presence of the D# key. Quantz is the inventor of this key, and the reason for it lies in Harmony. Since the D# originates from D, and the Eb from E, they cannot therefore be the same, nor can one be accepted in place of the other; they differ from one another by a comma, as do every greater and lesser semitone; the great semitone has five commas, and the lesser four; the small semitone is formed by raising a note on the same line or space by a sharp or lowering it by a flat - see g):

g)

The great semitone makes a step from a line to a space, or the other way around; see h):

h)

Observed side by side, they appear as in i):

i)

What applies to these goes for everything else of this kind. From this one can see that they are different from each other, and are not interchangeable. Thus one cannot take Eb for D#; Db for C#; Gb for F#; Bb for A#; Ab for G# or vice versa, or the harmony and the melody would make an incorrect and false progression, and nothing would be in tune. Of course on the keyboard there is nevertheless only one key for both these notes, so it is not capable of effecting this distinction, so one must simply make do as best one can. The singer, wind- and string-player, however, have the advantage of being able to make it very exactly… A good violinist observes the difference between the large and small semitones precisely if, for example, he plays G#' on the second string with the third finger, and Ab' with the fourth; C#" on the third string with the second finger, and Db" with the third and Eb["] with the fourth, etc. If they were mistaken for each other, then Ab could be used as the major third to E just as well as G#; Db just as well as C# the major third to A, and Eb just as well as D# the major third to B, etc.; just try it, and you will hear. So I repeat that it is a great

69

mistake to use one in place of the other on the flute for the sake of a little convenience; nobody who does this can possibly play in tune.156

Today's flutist does not differentiate between small and large semitones, and while we are

asked to play in just intonation as much as possible, we often do not understand the nature of the

tunings systems of other instruments in the ensemble. In the case of Mozart's flute concerto in G

major, there is no keyboard or continuo present, but there are two violins, a viola, a cello, and a

bass–instruments which have to consider the tuning of their open strings to accommodate the

requirements of just intonation, and to mitigate the problems with a Pythagorean system of pure

fifths. For the strings, tuning their instruments in accordance with Tromlitz' suggestions

(narrower fifths for the violins, viola, and cello; wider fourths for the bass) would prevent the

problem of open strings that are noticeably out of tune.

For modern flutists and string players, it is quite possible to employ the microtonal

inflections required by the two types of semitone. While it is beyond the scope of this paper to

examine all the complexities of pitch ratios, cent deviations, and detailed comparisons of other

ways of dividing the comma, it is significant to note that the purpose of this tuning system is to

build major and minor triads that will sound extremely close to those found in just intonation

(evenly splitting the tempering between the fifth and the third). Thus, for the modern flutist, it is

important to practice intonation using the ear to establish pure intervals and the necessary

tempering of them, rather than relying on the visual cue of the tuner to affirm an equal-tempered

scale. Additional care should be placed on passages containing chromatic scales, so that

oscillation between large and small semitones can be clearly heard, and can act to imbue the

music with more expression and color. As Bruce Haynes confirms, "The more we experiment

with temperaments… the more their significance appears to be in their expressivity. We begin to

156 J. G. Tromlitz, The Virtuoso Flute Player, 66-67.

70

realize that they exert a serene but enveloping influence on the character of the music. Equal

temperament, the tuning of necessity among modern players, was known by Bach's and Vivaldi's

contemporaries, but was neither necessary nor popular."157

Tone

Ardal Powell, in his book The Flute, presents a highly detailed and comprehensive

account of the flute’s development, including iconography, epistolary evidence, and a review of

several important documents and treatises that address the numerous regional styles and varying

alterations of the flute over time (Hotteterre, Quantz, Tromlitz, and Devienne, to name a few).

The flute underwent significant transformations varying by region throughout the eighteenth

century. One-keyed, conically bored German flutes “made principally of boxwood, ebony, or

ivory” were of the earliest eighteenth-century designs and “were by no means standardized: each

maker developed a personal concept of tone and intonation, and devised original technical means

of achieving his ideas.”158 The English style employed added tuning slides for the head joint and

foot joint, four metal plug keys and a metal-lined head joint (providing a fuller, brighter, and

more sustained tone). The German flutes used interchangeable middle joints and leather keys,

and were made fully of wood, which would have facilitated a rich sound in both extremities but

one that may not have been as penetrating as the English design.159

In the later part of the century, a harder black wood was often used in the construction of

German flutes (as with Dresden flute maker August Grenser), which yielded a stronger, more

virtuosic tone. A more heavily tapered bore was also applied to the flute's design, which

facilitated stronger low notes. The 'classical' flute was often shorter than the Baroque flute and at

157 Bruce Haynes, The End of Early Music, 55. 158 A. Powell, The Flute, 74. 159 Jane Bowers (1992). Mozart and the Flute, Early Music, Vol. 20, No. 1: 38-9.

71

a higher pitch (A=430). Even so, the flute was not ever standardized in this period, and many

makers experimented with new key mechanisms to expand the range and to address certain

idiosyncrasies of timbre and scale inherent in Baroque flutes.

These elements of instrument development are essential in considering differences of

opinion regarding the sound of the flute in Mozart’s time. Powell relates a quote from John

Gunn’s Art of Playing the German-Flute (c. 1793, England):

Two opinions seem chiefly to prevail on the method in which this instrument ought to be played: the first is, that an equal fullness of tone ought to be aimed at throughout; and this, when acquired, is thought to be the greatest excellence of which the instrument is capable. The favourers of this opinion have on their side, the example and practice of every public performer. The other opinion is in direct opposition to this: those who adopt it being chiefly pupils of nature, and speak from their own conviction and feelings, without any great deference to authority, say, that this kind of tone is contrary to the very nature of a Flute; the character of which, from its affinity to the female voice, is softness, grace, and tender expression, and can by no means be the bold and warlike expression of those full and loud tones, which seem to emulate the notes of the trumpet; they therefore contend that a soft tone is always to be preferred.160

Though it may seem obvious today which philosophy prevailed, it was previously not

assumed that the flute would sound only one way, and the wisest players may have sought to

possess ability in both styles. Jane Bowers relates a quote from A. André (1798) in which he

recalls “a time when the flute was… the ideal with which everything soft-toned was compared,”

and complains that “now things are different. The most modern composers usually write for this

instrument so that it has to shriek or rather whistle piercingly in the high register; and Virtuosos

love this sharp, cutting tone so much that they play everything in it – even their Solos and

Adagio.”161

160 A. Powell, The Flute, 126. 161 Jane Bowers (1992). Mozart and the Flute. Early Music, Vol. 20, No. 1: 34.

72

With the standardization of the instrument and the expansion of the orchestra and

performance spaces, a powerful, sustained, vibrating tone has become the requisite of every flute

player. Even as late as Taffanel and Gaubert, the use of vibrato was opposed in the performance

of the classics, as they considered it an effect that "distorts the natural character of the instrument

and spoils the interpretation, fatiguing quickly a sensitive ear." They charged it as "a serious

error" and showing an "unpardonable lack of taste to use these vulgar methods to interpret the

great composers." "According to Robert Philips study of early recordings (1992), 'vibrato as an

enhancer of tone [on wind instruments], as opposed to an ornament, was unknown until its

development by flautists of the Paris Conservatoire at the very end of the [nineteenth] century'.

He notes that the effect was generally extremely delicate and unobtrusive," used more as a tool

of expression than a learned technical standard of sound production.162 Haynes describes vibrato

as "the MSG of music," providing for comparison the

Period style vibrato…[which] is used selectively rather than constantly (to draw attention to important notes), with varied speed and intensity depending on expressive context, and often associated with messe di voce, expressive dynamic swells. In Modern style, vibrato is an integrated element of tone quality, used continuously and aggressively, resulting in a constant feeling of activity and nervousness.163 Vibrato has come to impose a uniform heightened expression on most playing (and singing). The effect is to deny that any passages are 'unexpressive' or 'neutral'. The idea that 'the steady tone' should predominate, and that vibrato should be used only to intensify carefully selected notes or phrases, as Joachim, Auer, and others insisted less than a century ago, is quite alien to most late 20th-century string-players and many woodwind players.164

162 A. Powell, The Flute, 220. 163 Bruce Haynes, The End of Early Music, 55. 164 Ibid.

73

While the use of constant vibrato is thought by many to be "patently unhistorical," it is

nonetheless frequently employed in modern performers' presentations of Mozart's music.165 It is

likely that there will soon "come a day when constant vibrato is also 'historical,' and associated

with the period after 1950."166 Occasionally a modern performer will choose to minimize the

amount of vibrato used in Mozart's flute concerto, focusing instead on a beautiful tone and the

contrast of color and expressive nuance. In this case, vibrato resumes the role of an ornament,

used for longer or more expressive notes, and varied in speed and frequency. Combined with a

broad palette of other expressive tools, this use of tasteful vibrato can be both appropriate and

delightful.

Exploring models of the historical flutes used in and around the time of Mozart can be a

valuable aid in developing an understanding of the music. Modern “assumptions about matters of

tempo, articulation, character, sonority, texture and inflection [are] challenged by the growing

conviction that the language of a period is intimately related to its instruments of execution.”167

Considering the same issues of tonal variety, construction, and playing method for the rest of the

ensemble instantly expands a performer's awareness of the available options for interpretation.

There is no indication that Mozart intended this flute concerto to be performed as a full-scale

orchestral concert piece. The original instrumentation calls for a total of ten instruments, not a

full symphonic string section. Greater variety of tone and nuance, and less overall force of

sound, would allow the flute to employ a wider array of expressive tools in performance, instead

of holding paramount the goal of projecting the flute's tone over a full orchestra. In addition, the

original venue for this piece was a chamber meant to seat a small audience. The acoustics of the

165 Ibid. 166 Ibid. 167 Robert D. Levin. (1992). Improvised Embellishments in Mozart’s Keyboard Music. Early Music, Vol. 20, No. 2: 221.

74

intended venue would not require the flutist to concern himself with being loud enough to be

heard in the back of a giant concert hall. Instead, a performer's focus would be on using a varied

and sensitive tone to communicate the many different affects in the piece, and to convey

virtuosic prowess when it was summoned by the music.

Memoria & Conclusions

"Memory is one of the prime divisions of rhetoric, and the ancient orator, having written

the speech himself, would always have performed from memory using gesture to reinforce and

impress his ideas on the audience."168 Musical performance is an art and discipline in which a

performer is called to masterfully utilize memory, stage presence (physical gesture), and delivery

to communicate with and delight a given audience. Throughout history various mnemonic

devices have been suggested to assist with memory. Considering the entire first movement of

Mozart's concerto in a rhetorical framework creates repositories of increasingly detailed

information, which can be learned in small segments and recalled on cue. This can be compared

to the mnemonic technique of visualizing "a house divided into various types of rooms in which

things to be remembered are stored."169 If one were to become familiar enough with the

schemata employed in this piece, and were to be able to recognize and recall them as larger units

(and eventually vary them at will), then remembering how those larger units are strung together

and embellished within the piece would be far easier than trying to recall an abstract series of

pitches and shapes. The rhetorical approach provides a method of understanding and organizing

the music, therefore making it much more meaningful and easy to remember.

168 Judy Tarling (2004). The Weapons of Rhetoric, 19. 169 Ibid., 19-20.

75

Music of Mozart's time is uniquely akin to the art of rhetoric not only because it was

directly joined to it in the writings of sixteenth-, seventeenth-, and eighteenth-century composers,

but because both artistic disciplines are learned traditions that are transmitted through a complex

combination of written and oral processes. While Mozart took great advantage of the notational

system of his time to produce music for immediate consumption, he also depended on his aural

environment to successfully transmit many unwritten elements of expression and style, as well as

larger melodic units of meaning and emotion. Today we have a phenomenally different aural

environment–one that lacks the cues and processes that were previously essential to the oral and

written transmission of this musical style. Modern students are expected to conduct their

listening by comparing various recordings, not through the process of learning small, integral

units of information that concatenate to create a functional musical language.

The illusion that governs the transmission of this work is that the written score contains

all of the necessary information, and that the performer's role is to present it as 'correct' and

without noticeable variation. But the product of this perspective is not rhetorical, and more

importantly, is not memorable–in my opinion, it is devoid of the very tools of survival that allow

traditions to persist in oral form for thousands of years. As Bartlett pointed out in 1932, "In a

world of constantly changing environment, literal recall is extraordinarily unimportant."170 What

is important is the transmission of the language that this music represents. Mozart learned this

language as a child, and I believe this speaks much more to the combination of exposure,

education, and a comprehensible musical style geared toward rapid production, than to Mozart

possessing some inherent genius over all others (not to say that his music is less than

consummate).

170 Bartlett, 1932, p. 204 found in David C. Rubin, Memory in Oral Traditions, p. 15.

76

It is our most basic aspiration, beyond the technical mastery of the flute, to develop an

informed and personal interpretation of each composition that we encounter. This goal reflects

the desire to produce music of the highest quality, to be able to make confident and unique

artistic decisions, and to develop an appropriate concept of ‘good taste’ and how to execute one’s

musical instrument within it. In modern times, this task has become exponentially more

difficult, as the standard repertoire now encompasses a vast scope of history, broad and diverse

international influence, and significant changes in the materials and construction of the flute over

time.

With the resurgence of interest in Historically Informed Performing Practice throughout

the last half-century, it has become strikingly clear to musicologists how much information must

truly be considered to develop a sense of what past composers may have intended, and the social

and aural environment in which they lived and composed. Over the last two centuries the field

of music has witnessed a growing divide between the knowledge of composers and that of

performers, as well as an overwhelming emphasis on instrument-specialization and virtuosic

training. In addition, any true endeavor to approach the massive amount of information

contained in historical sources appears to be, at heart, another science “requiring the whole

man,” or woman as the case now often is.171

The goal in seeking out this information is in no way to recreate a historically ‘authentic’

performance, as that objective is widely realized as impossible. In fact, the impetus for this

project came from a desire to dissuade a pedagogical approach that aimed at a 'correct'

performance over an informed, spontaneous one. I offer this investigation as a framework for

inquiry, to open a space for new insights and possibilities, and to inspire other rhetorical

171 J.J. Quantz, On Playing the Flute, Intro, §19.

77

investigations of this concerto. Certainly, the second and third movements deserve the same

attention, as do Mozart's other works for flute (not to mention many less standard works written

by his precursors and contemporaries). For flutists puzzled by an inability to distinguish 'the

forest from the trees' in the performance of Mozart's music, the rhetorical approach reveals a

forgotten playground–a secret garden of expressive possibilities and meaningful choices that

await the modern musician.

78

Appendix A: Schemata & Cadences Employed in K. 313, Mvt. 1 Schemata & Cadences Cadence: Complete Cadence: Deceptive

Cadenza Circle of 5ths

Clausula Cantizans Clausula Perfecta

Clausula Perfectissima Clausula Vera

Coda Converging Cudworth

Descending Thirds Complex DO-RE-MI

DO-SI-DO Final Fall

Fonte Grand Cadence

Indugio Meyer

MI-RE-DO Passo Indietro Phrygian Cadence

Ponte Prinner

Romanesca "Skipping" Thirds

Sol-to-la Flourish Triadic Flourish

79

Bibliography Books: Badura-Skoda, E., & Badura-Skoda, P. (2008). Interpreting Mozart: The performance of his

piano pieces and other compositions. New York: Routledge. Bach, C.P.E., & Mitchell, W. J. (1949). Essay on the True Art of Playing Keyboard Instruments.

New York: W.W. Norton & Co. Bartel, D. (1997). Musica Poetica: Musical-rhetorical figures in German Baroque music.

Lincoln & London: University of Nebraska Press. Beghin, T. & Sander M. Goldberg. (2007). Haydn and the Performance of Rhetoric. Chicago

University Press. Bonds, M.E. (1991). Wordless Rhetoric: Musical Form and the Metaphor of the Oration.

Cambridge & London: Harvard University Press. Brown, C. (1999). Classical and Romantic Performing Practice 1750-1900. Oxford: Oxford

University Press. Brown, H. M., & Sadie, S. (1990). Performance Practice. New York: W.W. Norton. Brown, R. (2002). The Early Flute: A Practical Guide. Cambridge Handbooks to the Historical

Performance of Music. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Butt, J. (2002). Playing with History: The Historical Approach to Musical Performance. Musical

performance and reception. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Deutsch, O. E. (1965). Mozart: A Documentary Biography. California: Stanford University

Press. Farrar, C.R. (1970). Michel Corrette and Flute-playing in the Eighteenth Century. New York:

Institute of Mediaeval Music, Ltd. Fubini, Enrico. (1994). Music & Culture in Eighteenth-Century Europe: A Source Book. Edited

by Bonnie J Blackburn. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Gjerdingen, R. O. (2007). Music in the Galant Style. Oxford University Press. ……………………(1988). A Classic Turn of Phrase. University of Pennsylvania Press. Gunn, John. (1793). The Art of Playing the German-Flute, Marion, IA: Dockendorff Boland. Haynes, B. (2007). The End of Early Music: A Period Performer’s History of Music for the

Twenty-first Century. Oxford University Press.

80

MacClintock, C. (1979). Readings in the History of Music in Performance. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

McLucas, Anne Dhu. (2010). The Musical Ear: Oral Traditions in the USA. Burlington, VT:

Ashgate. Mozart, L. (1985). A Treatise on the Fundamental Principles of Violin Playing. Oxford

[Oxfordshire]: Oxford University Press. Mozart, W.A., Köchel, L. (1947). Chronologisch-thematisches Verzeichnis sämtlicher Tonwerke.

Ann Arbor, Michigan: Verlag von J.W. Edwards. Neubauer, J. (1986). The Emancipation of Music from Language: Departure from Mimesis in

Eighteenth-Century Aesthetics. New Haven: Yale University Press. Neumann, Frederick. (1986). Ornamentation and Improvisation in Mozart. Princeton, N.J.:

Princeton University Press. Neumann, F., & Stevens, J. R. (1993). Performance Practices of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth

Centuries. New York: Schirmer Books. Powell, A. (2002). The Flute. New Haven & London: Yale University Press. Quantz, J. J., & Reilly, E. R. (1966). On Playing the Flute. New York: Free Press. Ratner, L.G. (1980). Classic Music: Expression, Form, and Style. New York: Schirmer

Books/Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc. Rosen, Charles. (1971). The Classical Style: Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven. New York & London:

W. W. Norton & Company. Rushton, J. (2006). Mozart. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Schenker, H., & Drabkin, W. (2004). Der Tonwille: Pamphlets in Witness of the Immutable Laws

of Music: Offered to a New Generation of Youth. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Schroeder, D. P. (1999). Mozart in Revolt: Strategies of Resistance, Mischief, and Deception.

New Haven: Yale University Press. Solum, J. (1992). The Early Flute. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Stowell, R. (1985). Violin Technique and Performance Practice in the Late Eighteenth and Early

Nineteenth Centuries. Cambridge [Cambridgeshire]: Cambridge University Press. Tarling, J. (2004). The Weapons of Rhetoric. Hertfodshire, UK: Corda Music Publications.

81

Taruskin, R. (1995). Text and Act: Essays on Music and Performance. New York & Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Todd, R. Larry, and Peter Williams. (2006). Perspectives on Mozart Performance. Cambridge

University Press. Tosi, Pier Francesco. (1995). Introduction to the Art of Singing. Translated by Julianne Baird.

Cambridge musical texts and monographs. Cambridge [England]: Cambridge University Press.

———. “Observations on the Florid Song.” Translated by Johann Ernst Galliard. Observations

on the Florid Song, n.d. http://manybooks.net/pages/tosip2647726477-8/0.html. Tromlitz, J. G., & Powell, (1996). The Keyed Flute. Oxford: Clarendon Press. -----------(1991). The Virtuoso Flute-Player. Cambridge musical texts and monographs.

Cambridge [England]: Cambridge University Press. Türk, D. G., & Jacobi, E. R. (1962). Klavierschule. Documenta musicologica, 23. Kassel:

Bärenreiter. Vial, S. (2008). The Art of Musical Phrasing in the Eighteenth Century: Punctuating the

Classical "Period". Eastman studies in music, [v. 55]. Rochester: University of Rochester Press.

Articles: Baker, N. K. (1976). Heinrich Koch and the Theory of Melody. Journal of Music Theory, Vol.

20, No. 1: 1-48. Balthazar, S. L. (1998). Tonal and Motivic Process in Mozart’s Expositions. The Journal of

Musicology, Vol. 16, No. 4: 421-466. Bartel, Dietrich (2003). Rhetoric in German Baroque Music: Ethical Gestures. The Musical

Times, Vol. 144, No. 1885: 15-19. Barth, George (1991). Performance in the 19th Century. Early Music, Vol. 19, No. 4: 538-555. Bowers, Jane (1992). Mozart and the Flute. Early Music, Vol. 20, No. 1: 31-42. Caplin, W.E. (2004). The Classical Cadence: Conceptions and Misconceptions. Journal of the

American Musicological Society, Vol. 57, No. 1: 51-117. Chesnut, J. H. (1977). Mozart’s Teaching of Intonation. Journal of the American Musicological

Society, Vol. 30, No. 2: 254-271. Cone, E. T. (1987). On Derivation: Syntax and Rhetoric. Music Analysis, Vol. 6, No. 3: 237-255.

82

Crutchfield, Will (1989). The Prosodic Appoggiatura in the Music of Mozart and his

Contemporaries. Journal of the American Musiclogical Society, Vol. 42, No. 2: 229-274. Dreyfus, Laurence. 1992. "Mozart as Early Music: A Romantic Antidote". Early Music. 20 (2):

297-298. Hutchings, Arthur (1943). Mozart and Modern Performance. The Musical Times, Vol. 84, No.

1208: 297-299. Jenkins JS. 1994. "Mozart's Indian: Dr. Ferdinand Dejean". Journal of Medical Biography. 2 (1):

53-8. King, A. & Mozart (1940). The Fragmentary Works of Mozart. The Musical Times, Vol. 81, No.

1172: 401-403. Lateiner, Jacob (1992). An Interpreter’s Approach to Mozart. Early Music, Vol. 20, No. 2: 245-

253. Levin, Robert D. (1992). Improvised Embellishments in Mozart’s Keyboard Music. Early Music,

Vol. 20, No. 2: 221-233. ------- (1988). [Review of Ornamentation and Improvisation in Mozart by Frederick Neumann],

Journal of the American Musicological Society, Vol. 41, No. 2: 355-368. Mirka, Danuta (2005). The Cadence of Mozart’s Cadenzas. The Journal of Musicology, Vol. 22,

No. 2: 292-325. Moore, Robin (1992). The Decline of Improvisation in Western Art Music: An Interpretation of

Change. International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of Music, Vol. 23, No. 1: 61-84.

Neumann, F. (1993). Dots and Strokes in Mozart. Early Music, Vol. 21, No. 3: 429-435. --------(1966). External Evidence and Uneven Notes. The Musical Quarterly, Vol. 52, No. 4:

448-464. --------(1964). Misconceptions about the French Trill in the 17th and 18th Centuries. The Musical

Quarterly, Vol. 50, No. 2: 188-206. --------(1967). The Use of Baroque Treatises on Musical Performance. Music & Letters, Vol. 48,

No. 4: 315-324. Neumann, F. and R. Maunder (1993). Performance Practice in Mozart. Music &Letters, Vol. 74,

No. 4: 653-655.

83

Odena, Oscar, and Graham Welch. 2009. "A generative model of teachers' thinking on musical creativity". Psychology of Music. 37 (4): 416-442.

Pesic, Peter (2002). The Child and the Daemon: Mozart and Deep Play, 19th-Century Music, Vol.

25, No. 2/3: 91-107. Reilly, E. R. (1997). Quantz and the Transverse Flute: Some Aspects of His Practice and

Thought regarding the Instrument. Early Music, Vol. 25, No. 3: 429-438. Sadie, Stanley (1988). Mozart on Paper and in Practice [review of Mozart: Studies of the

Autograph Scores by Alan Tyson & Ornamentation and Improvisation in Mozart by Frederick Neumann]. The Musical Times, Vol. 129, No. 1741: 128-129.

Smyth, David (1990). Large-Scale Rhythm and Classical Form. Music Theory Spectrum, Vol.

12, No. 2: 236-246. Temperley, Nicholas (1955). Mozart and the Flute. Music & Letters, Vol. 36, No. 1: 108. Ward, M. K. (1954). Mozart and the Flute. Music & Letters, Vol. 35, No. 4: 294-308. Zaslaw, Neal (1992). Mozart’s Orchestras: Applying Historical Knowledge to Modern

Performances. Early Music, Vol. 20, No. 2: 197-205. Dissertations: Chang, Pi-Ling. 1996. Mozart's Flute concerto K. 313. Thesis (M.A.)--San Jose State University,

1996. Dunnell, Rebecca Cotten. 1997. Mozart's concerto for flute and harp, K.299: a reflection of the

socio-musical world of 1770s Paris. Greensboro, NC, Univ., Diss., 1997. Gill, Sarah M. 2002. A collection and study of the published cadenzas for Wolfgang Amadeus

Mozart's Concerto in G major for flute and orchestra, K. 313. Thesis (Mus. D.)--Florida State University, 2002.

Lee, I-Lin. 2004. The formal plan of Mozart's Concerto in G Major for Flute and Orchestra

(K.313), mvt. 1. Thesis (M.A.)--State University of New York at Buffalo, 2004. Liu, Ning. 1992. Performance issues in Mozart's G-major flute concerto, K. 313 (285c). Thesis

(M.F.A.)--University of California, Los Angeles, 1992. McDonell, Twila Schemmer. 2000. Using Schenkerian analysis: moving from analysis to

performance in the first movement of W.A. Mozart's Concerto in G for flute and orchestra, K.313. Thesis (D. Music)--Northwestern University, 2000.

84

Pauls, J. D. 1996. An analysis of Mozart's concertos with flute presented graphically to illustrate Mozart's use of concerto forms, to enhance performance comprehension, and to facilitate memorization. Lecture document (D. M. A.)--University of Oregon, 1996.

Worthen, Douglas. 2007. A semiotic view of the flute concerto genre from Vivaldi to Mozart.

Thesis (D.M.A.)--Hartt School, University of Hartford, 2007. Sound/DVD: Badura-Skoda, P., & Mozart, W. A. (1983). A master lesson. [S.l.]: Shacor. Galway, J., Vivaldi, A., Bach, J. S., Mozart, W. A., Handel, G. F., Quantz, J. J., et al. (1996). The

art of James Galway. French Recital. New York: RCA Victor Red Seal. Immerseel, J. V. (2008). Mozart: Piano Concertos- Complete. Harmonia Mundi, U.S.A. Moyse, Marcel, Blanche Honegger Moyse, Carol Wincenc, Julia Bogorad, Wolfgang Amadeus

Mozart, Claude Debussy, Marcel Moyse, Jean Louis Tulou, and Theobald Böhm. 1989. Flute seminars, 1975. [West Brattleboro, Vt.]: Moyse Enterprises.

Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, Julius Baker, Antonio Janigro, Felix Prohaska, Wolfgang Amadeus

Mozart, and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. 1977. Concerto no. 1 in G major for flute and orchestra, K. 313 ; Concerto no. 2 in D major for flute and orchestra, K. 314 ; Andante in C major for flute and orchestra, K. 315. New York, N.Y.: Vanguard.

Mozart, W. A., & Immerseel, J. v. (1994). Art of Mozart. Amsterdam, Holland: Channel

Classics. Mozart, W., Kuijken, B., & Kuijken, S. (1990). Flute concertos K313 & 314. Mozart, W. A., Pahud, E., Langlamet, M.-P., Abbado, C., Mozart, W. A., Mozart, W. A., et al.

(1997). Flötenkonzerte 1 & 2 Konzert für Flöte und Harfe. New York, NY: EMI Classics. Mozart, W. A., Rampal, J. P., Stern, I., Mozart, W. A., & Mozart, W. A. (1980). Flute concerti. Scores: Badura-Skoda, P., & Mozart, W. A. (1967). Kadenzen, Eingänge und Auszierungen zu

Klavierkonzerten von Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Kassel: Bärenreiter. Mozart, W. A., Adorján, A., Petrenz, S., & Levin, R. D. (2000). Flötenkonzert G-dur, KV 313 =

Flute concerto in G major, K. 313. München: G. Henle. Stockhausen, K., Mozart, W. A., & Mozart, W. A. (1985). Kadenzen für Mozart's Flötenkonzert

in G, KV 313 (285c) und Mozart's Flötenkonzert in D, KV 314 (285d): 1984-85. Kürten, West Germany: Stockhausen-Verlag.