(Harmonologia) Joseph Riepel - John Walter Hill (Trans.,Ed.) - Joseph Riepiel's Theory of Metric and Tonal Order, Phrase and Form-Pendragon Press (2015)

Joseph Riepel’s
Theory of Metric and Tonal Order,

Phrase and Form
The original title page of Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen Setzkunst
Joseph Riepel’s
Theory of Metric and Tonal Order,
Phrase and Form:
A Translation of His
Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen Setzkunst,
Chapters 1 and 2 (1752/54, 1755) with Commentary
by
John Walter Hill
HARMONOLOGIA: Studies in Music Theory No. 20
PENDRAGON PRESS
HILLSDALE, NY
Other Titles in the Series HARMONOLOGIA: STUDIES IN MUSIC THEORY
No. 1 Heinrich Schenker: An Annotated In- No. 12 Structure and Meaning in Tonal Music:
dex To His Analyses of Musical Works by A Festschrift for Carl Schachter edited by
Lawrence Laskowski Poundie Burstein and David Gagné
No. 2 Marpurg’s Thoroughbass and Compo- No. 13 Complete Treatise on the Theory and
sition Handbook: A Narrative Translation Practice of Harmony (1844) by François-
and Critical Study by David A. Sheldon Joseph Fétis, translated by Peter Landy
No. 3 Between Modes and Keys: German The- No. 14 Music Theory from Boethius to Zarli-
ory 1592-1802 by Joel Lester no: A Bibliography and Guide by Matthew
No. 4 Music Theory from Zarlino to Schenker: Balensuela and David Russell Williams
A Bibliography and Guide by David Dam- No. 15 Analyzing Jazz: A Schenkerian Ap-
schroder and David Russell Williams proach by Steve Larson
No. 5 Musical Time: The Sense of Order by No. 16The Power of the Moment: Essays on
Barbara Barry the Western Musical Canon by Martin
No. 6 Formalized Music: Thought and Math- Boykan
ematics in Composition (revised edition) No. 17 Johann David Heinichen’s Compre-
by Sharon Kanach hensive Instruction on Basso Continuo
No. 7 Esquisse de Histoire de Harmonie: with Historical Biographies, translated
An English-Language Translation of the and compiled by Benedikt Brilmayer and
François-Joseph Fétis History by Mary I. Casey Mongoven
Arlin No. 18 Mendelssohn’s Instrumental Music:
No. 8 Analyzing Fugue: A Schenkerian Ap- Structure and Style by Erez Rapoport
proach by Wiliam Renwick No. 19 Andreas Werckmeister’s Cribrum mu-
No. 9 Bach ‘s Modal Chorales by Lori Burns sicum (1700) and Harmonologia musica
No. 10 Treatise on Melody by Anton Reicha, (1702): The Original German Treatises
Translated by Peter Landy with Parallel, Annotated English Transla-
No. 11 A Topical Guide to Schenkerian Lit- tions translated by Casey Mongoven
erature: An Annotated Bibliography with
Indices by David Carson Berry
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Riepel, Joseph, 1709-1782, author.
[Anfangsgr|nde zur musicalischen Setzkunst. Selections. English]
Joseph Riepel’s Theory of metric and tonal order : phrase and form : a translation of his
Anfangsgr|nde zur musicalischen Setzkunst, chapters 1 and 2 (1752/54, 1755) / with com-
mentary by John Walter Hill.
pages ; cm. -- (Harmonologia : studies in music theory ; no. 20)
Originally published: Frankfurt : [Gredruckt bey J.J. Lotter, Augspurg], 1752 (chapter 1)
and Frankfurt : [Gedruckt bey C.U. Wagner, Ulm], 1755 (chapter 2).
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-57647-245-3 (alk. paper)
1. Composition (Music)--Early works to 1800. 2. Music Theory--Early works to 1800. I.
Hill, John Walter, 1942- writer of added commentary, translator. II. Title.
MT40.R6213 2014
781--dc23
2014040129
Copyright 2014 John Walter Hill

TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction vii

Glossary of Translated Terms xiii

Joseph Riepel, Foundations of Musical Composition, Chapters 1 and 2

Chapter 1, Concerning Rhythmopoeïa; or, Concerning 1
Metric Order
Chapter 2, Principles of Tonal Order Generally 138
Commentary
Rhythmopoeïa and Melopoeïa 353
Mid-Eighteenth-Century Berlin Orchestral Repertoire 401

Collected in Dresden: The Origin of and Context for Joseph
Riepel’s Theories
Reception: Leopold and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart 419
Reception: Heinrich Christoph Koch, Other Contemporaneous 441

Writers, and Riepel’s Students
A Few Final Words 457
Bibliography 459

Index 465
v
Introduction
Joseph Riepel (1709–1782) was a violinist, composer, court music director,
and theorist who was born and educated in Austria, studied in Dresden, and
settled in Regensburg. His major theoretical work, Anfangsgründe zur musi-
calischen Setzkunst (“Foundations of Musical Composition”) consists of ten
chapters, of which five were published in his lifetime (1752–1768), two were
published posthumously (1786), and three remain in manuscript. His treatise
on musical text setting, Harmonisches Sylbenmaß (“Harmonious Syllable
Measurement”), was published in 1776.
In our time, interest in Riepel’s writing has centered, justifiably, on his
general theory of composition, emphasizing form and phrase structure, as
presented in the first four chapters of his Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen
Setzkunst. (The remaining six chapters deal with counterpoint, harmoniza-
tion, and fugue.) The most interesting and novel aspects of his theory of com-
position–really an essentially complete presentation of it–are contained in the
first two chapters, which are translated with commentary in this book. The
third and fourth chapters focus on more elementary matters.
Riepel’s published chapters were well received and respected during his
day, as is shown in my chapter “Reception: Heinrich Christoph Koch, Other
Contemporaneous Writers, and Riepel’s Students.” After a period of neglect
during the nineteenth century, a fate shared by most eighteenth–century
theoretical writings, Riepel’s treatise has been recognized for its value by a
considerable number of modern scholars, initially and principally by those
writing in German.1 Useful commentary on and application of Riepel’s com-
1
Robert Sondheimer, Die Theorie der Sinfonie und die Beurteilung einzelner Sinfoniekom-
ponisten bei den Musikschriftstellern des 18. Jahrhunderts (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel,
1925); Wilhelm Twittenhoff, Die musiktheoretischen Schriften Joseph Riepels (1709–1782)
als Beispiel einer anschauliche Musiklehre (Halle/Saale: Buchhandlung des Waisenhauses,
1935); Ernst Schwartzmaier, Die Takt- und Tonordnung Joseph Riepels: Ein Beitrag zur Ge-
schichte der Formenlehre im 18. Jahrhundert (Wölfenbüttel: Verlag für musikalische Kultur
und Wissenschaft, 1936); Josef Merkl, Josef Riepel als Komponist (1709–1782). Ein Beitrag
zur Musikgeschichte der Stadt Regensburg (Kallmünz: Lassleben, 1937); Arnold Feil, “Satz-
technische Fragen in den Kompositionslehren von F.E. Niedt, J. Riepel und H. Chr. Koch,”
Inaug. diss., Heidelberg Univ., 1955; Peter Benary, Die deutsche Kompositionslehre des 18.
Jahrhunderts (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1960); Wolfgang Budday, Grundlagen musika-
lischer Formen der Wiener Klassik (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1983); Thomas Emmerig, Joseph
Riepel, 1709-1782, Hofkapellmeister des Fürsten von Thurn und Taxis: Biographie, the-
matisches Werkverzeichnis, Schriftenverzeichnis (Kallmünz: M. Lassleben, 1984); Thomas
Emmerig, ed., Joseph Riepel, Sämtliche Schriften zur Musiktheorie (Vienna: Böhlau Verlag,
1996); Markus Waldura, Von Rameau und Riepel zu Koch: Zum Zusammenhang zwischen
theoretischem Ansatz, Kadenzlehre und Periodenbegriff in der Musiktheorie des 18. Jahr-
vii
Theory of Metric and Tonal Order, Phrase and Form
positional theory can be found in several English-language doctoral disser-

tations.2 Published scholarship in English includes several excellent applica-
tions of aspects of Riepel’s theory in the study of style history, compositional
methods, and performing practice,3 even if it has not addressed the theory as
a whole. It has also sometimes criticized Riepel for inconsistency and ques-
tioned the stability of his text and authorial voice.4 While these criticisms are
not to be taken lightly, the present publication offers the Anglophone reader
an opportunity to rebalance such judgements. My hope is that an illuminat-
ing and precise translation along with several chapters of commentary, based
on my many repetitions and revisions of graduate courses dedicated, at least
in part, to Riepel’s theory, will help the willing reader to incorporate Riepel’s
approach and insights into performance and scholarship.
Each chapter of Riepel’s Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen Setzkunst takes
the form of a dialogue between the Preceptor and his student, the Discantist,
carried on in an informal manner, including humor and homespun expressions
using regional dialect. There is no doubt that the Preceptor represents Riepel,
hunderts (Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlag, 2002); Thomas Emmerig, ed., Musikgeschichte
Regensburgs (Regensburg: Puster, 2006); Ulrich Kaiser, ed., Musiktheoretische Quellen
1750–1800: Gedruckte Schriften von J. Riepel, H. Chr. Koch, J. F. Daube und J. A. Scheibe
(= Zeno.org 15) (Berlin: Directmedia, 2007).
2
Walter Kob, “The Smaller Homophonic Forms of Instrumental Music, 1740–1815, in Rela-
tion to Theories of Music Form,” Ph.D. diss., Univ. of Rochester, 1965; Nola Jane Reed, “The
Theories of Joseph Riepel as Expressed in His Anfansgründe zur musicalischen Setzkunst
(1752–1768),” Ph.D. diss., Univ. of Rochester, 1983; Marta Louise Jurjevich, “Anton Zim-
mermann’s Chamber Music for Strings,” D.M.A. diss., Univ. of Illinois, 1987; Andrew K.
Kearns, “The Eighteenth Century Orchestral Serenade in South Germany,” Ph.D. diss., Univ.
of Illinois, 1993; Richard Anthony Williamson, “Extended Phrase Structure and Organic
Unity in Mozart’s Vespers: An Approach to Interpreting Form in Classical Choral Music,”
D.M.A. diss., Univ. of Illinois, 1993; Stefan Eckert, “Ars Combinatoria, Dialogue Structure,
and Musical Practice in Joseph Riepel’s Anfansgründe zur musicalischen Setzkunst,” Ph.D.
diss., State Univ. of New York at Stony Brook, 2000; Gregory Thomas Hellenbrand, “The
Symphonies of Johann Michael Haydn: A Chronological Perspective Using Theories of Jo-
seph Riepel and Heinrich Christoph Koch,” Ph.D. diss., Univ. of Illinois, 2006; Sharon J.
Hudson, “Performance Insights for Mozart Piano Sonatas Derived from Eighteenth-Century
Compositional Guides,” D.M.A. diss., Univ. of Illinois, 2011.
3
For example, Leonard G. Ratner, “Eighteenth-Century Theories of Musical Period Struc-
ture,” The Musical Quarterly, 42 (1950), 439-454; Elaine R. Sisman, “Small and Expanded
Forms: Koch’s Model and Haydn’s Music,” Musical Quarterly, 68 (1982), 444–475; Robert
O. Gjerdingen, Music in the Galant Style (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007); and
Stephanie D. Vial, The Art of Musical Phrasing in the Eighteenth Century: Punctuating the
Classical ‘Period’ (Rochester: University of Rochester Press, 2008).
4
Justin London, “Riepel and Absatz: Poetic and Prosaic Aspects of Phrase Structure in 18th-
Century Theory,” The Journal of Musicology, 8 (1990), 505–519; Joel Lester, Composi-
tional Theory in the Eighteenth Century (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992),
258–272; Stefan Eckert, Einschnitt, Absatz, and Cadenz–The Description of Galant Syntax
in Joseph Riepel’s Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen Setzkunst,” Theoria, 14 (2007), 93–124.
viii
Introduction
the author. From time to time the Preceptor comments directly to the reader, in
a footnote, on his tactics or on the Discantist’s viewpoint; the Discantist never
addresses us in this manner. The fictitious letters to the author, which introduce
each volume, are addressed to Riepel, whose name, alone, appears on the title
page. Still, the dialogue is written in such a way that occasionally the Discantist
is made to say something useful or correct. And occasionally his complaints
or objections go unanswered. In fact, Riepel deliberately leaves some issues
unresolved and significant points only hinted at. Clearly he wishes to demon-
strate that no question of importance about music has a single, finite answer.
“To cover all the rules of composition on a few sheets of paper, considering the
inexhaustible sea of music, would be as little possible as diverting the Danube
here by means of a narrow-gauge fountain” (5 [1]).5 “For music is a fathom-
less sea” (137 [79] and 352 [130]). In keeping with this attitude, a great deal of
what Riepel wishes to teach is demonstrated only in musical examples with-
out explicit explanation or comment. These are the reasons why I have added
a chapter of my own interpretation and commentary, entitled “Rhythmopoeïa
and Melopoeïa,” which includes several of Riepel’s more significant musi-
cal examples, annotated according to his own theoretical methods and con-
cepts. I have also added a chapter, “Mid-Eighteenth-Century Berlin Orches-
tral Repertoire Collected in Dresden: The Origin of and Context for Joseph
Riepel’s Theories,” linking Riepel’s theory to the musical style of a group
of compositions by Berlin composers who studied in Dresden, where Riepel
found their works collected in manuscript by their one-time teacher, Johann
Georg Pisendel (1709‒1786). Two further chapters on reception show the
possible influence of Riepel’s teaching on W. A. Mozart and the very clear
evidence that Heinrich Christoph Koch (1749–1816) wrote his Versuch einer
Anleitung zur Composition (1782–1793) as an updated crystallization, elabo-
ration, and expansion of Riepel’s Anfangsgründe. The translations of several
very laudatory contemporaneous reviews and commentaries on Riepel’s An-
fangsgründe are included along with a list of Riepel’s known students in a
subsequent chapter. “A Few Final Words” are added to reinforce the notion
that Riepel’s treatise, although largely and outwardly a training manual for
eighteenth-century composers, can serve us, today, as testimony of and in-
struction in a shared conceptual framework, written by an insider, that can
help us, as outsiders, by sharpening and fruitfully directing our attention and
comprehension.
5
Here and elsewhere in this book numbers within parentheses refer to pages in my translation,
while numbers within square brackets refer to page numbers in the original, German text.
Original page numbers appear, also within square brackets, during the running text of my
translation.
ix
With certain minor exceptions, all text is translated into English. Most of
it was published in German, of course. Where the original text was in Latin,
the translated words are placed within these signs: < >. Where the original
text was in French, the translated words are placed within these signs: « ».
Where Latin or French words are given in Riepel’s notes as translations of
his German text–usually as single words–Riepel’s Latin or French words are
retained, on grounds that the English equivalent has already been provided
in the translation of the main German text. A few Italian words have been
retained in their original language, either for the sake of color (e.g., monte,
fonte, and ponte) or because they remain common terms in musical scores
(e.g., Allegro, finale, etc.)
Riepel uses boldface and various enlarged fonts for emphasis. For practi-
cal reasons, these typographical distinctions have been collapsed into bold-
face, alone. His German text was printed in a variety of Fraktur, with non-
German words set in Roman type. This distinction has not been maintained,
inasmuch as non-German text has been identified by other means, as men-
tioned, and the German has been rendered into English. In the case of un-
translated proper names, combination letters available in Fraktur but not in
Roman type have been resolved into pairs of distinct letters.
I have tried to translate Riepel’s key technical terms consistently through-
out. Some of these terms present difficulties because their meaning and us-
age in Riepel’s writing covers a range of signification matched by no single
English word. The reader is advised to consult the “Glossary of Translated
Terms” before beginning the main text and to refer back to it from time to
time, when technical words are encountered in the translation.
In general I have not provided the original language for translated quotes
from Riepel’s writing because the complete, original text of the first four chap-
ters of his Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen Setzkunst can be found in search-
able PDF format at Google Books on the Internet, using the author’s name and
individual title of each chapter as the search terms.6 An online digital edition of
Riepel’s works is also maintained by the SICD of the University of Strasbourg.7
A complete reproduction of the writings printed on paper has been published
as Thomas Emmerig, ed., Joseph Riepel, Sämtliche Schriften zur Musiktheorie
(Vienna: Böhlau Verlag, 1996).
My translation of Riepel’s first chapter is based upon its second edition.
6
De Rhythmopoeïa, oder Von der Tactordnung, 1752; Grundregeln zur Tonordnung insgemein,
1755; Gründliche Erklärung der Tonordnung insbesondere, zugleich aber für die mehresten
Organisten insgemein, 1757; Erläuterung der betrüglichen Tonordnung, 1765.
7
http://num-scd-ulp.u-strasbg.fr:8080/view/authors/Riepel,_Joseph.html
x
Introduction
The differences with the first edition consist of notification of the edition on
the title page, a note calling attention to the P.S. that concludes the “Reply of
the author, which he sent to one of his good friends five weeks ago,” the lon-
ger P.S., the different identification of the printer at the foot of the last page of
text, and the corrections of printing errors that appear on the last page of the
volume. A list of printing errors also appears on the last page of the second
chapter, in the exemplar used for my translation. All of the printing errors in
both lists were incorporated into the text before the translation was made.
The corrections of errors in Riepel’s musical examples have been made by
“photoshopping” the images of examples before incorporating into the text.
Readers who are interested in examining the uncorrected examples may find
them in the PDF files of chapters available on the Internet and in the reprint
edition mentioned above.
I completed the first draft of my translation in 1987 and have revised it
many times since. Some early versions may circulate informally. Two Re-
search Assistants, supported by the Research Board at the University of Il-
linois, Urbana-Champaign, helped greatly: Gregory Hellenbrand created a
Word file of the complete German text, and Karen Ruhleder corrected many
errors in my translation at a later stage. In the end, many details of translation
were influenced by my understanding of Riepel’s meaning derived from his
musical examples, which often communicate a great deal more than the text,
itself.
xi
Glossary of Translated Terms
black Gredel (schwarze Gredel). Riepel’s colorful term for the parallel-mi-
nor tonic chord and key area in his barnyard hierarchy consisting, in order
of precedence, of I = Meyer (“steward”), V = Oberknecht (“foreman”), vi =
Obermagd (“chief maid”), iii = Untermagd (“assistant maid”), IV = Taglö-
bner (“day laborer”), ii = Unterläufferin (“errand girl”), and i = schwarze
Gredel (“black Gredel”), who farms a small piece of land, presumably apart
of the main farm. (Here and elsewhere in this glossary, I use Roman numer-
als and terms such as “tonic” and “dominant” in order to communicate with
modern readers; Riepel, himself, used neither systems to designate chords
or functions.) The major chords/keys are male, the minor chords/keys are
female, in keeping with a gender metaphor used elsewhere in eighteenth-
century theory.8 The name “Gredel” is a diminutive for “Grete” or “Grethe,”
which are two among several shortened forms of the name “Margarethe,” in
its various spellings, that have been used in various regions of Germany.9 The
schwarze Grete has been a common figure in German folklore since at least
the fourteenth century.10 This name has been applied to both ghostly and hu-
man persons, including the historical Queen Margaret Sambiria, in countless
folk tales and commentaries on them,11 in which blackness is ascribed, vari-
ously, to Grete’s dress, complection, hair, blood, heart, or soul. The associa-
tion of this color with Danish Queen Margaret Sambiria (1230?–1282) can
be found already in a chronicle compiled in 1448: “In those days, the king
being dead, a woman called black Margaret, Queen of Denmark, received
8
Gretchen A. Wheelock, “Schwarze Gredel and the Engendered Minor in Mozart’s Operas,”
Musicology and Difference: Gender and Sexuality in Music Scholarship, ed. Ruth A. Solie
(Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1995), 201–224.
9
Das deutsche Wörterbuch von Jacob und Wilhelm Grimm auf CD-ROM und im Internet, s.v.,
“Grete.”
10
Karl Bartsch, Mitteldeutsche Gedichte (Stuttgart: Litterarischen Verein, 1860), 73, tran-
scribes “Daz Brechen Leit” from a fourteenth-century Thuringian manuscript, which contains
the verse “Di swarze Grite hat ouch dar gach.”
11
A sample of these is offered by Johann Wilhelm Wolf, Beiträge zur deutschen Mythologie
(Göttingen: Dieterische Büchhandlung, 1852), 202–205; Wolf, Deutsche Märchen under Sa-
gen (Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1845), 83–87; and Karl Müllenhoff, Sagen Märchen und Lieder der
Herzogthümer Schleswig Holstain und Lauenburg (Kiel: Schwerschen Buchhandlung, 1845),
14–16, 18,–19, 24–25, 34, 121–122, 157–158, .269, 273–275, 342–343. All together several
dozen books and journals report uses of die schwarze Grete, or its variants in German dialects,
Danish, Dutch, Swedish, and Norwegian, mostly concentrated in the nineteenth century.
xiii
the scepter and crown, faithfully carried out the work of king, and, invading
the land of the Holstein, fortified the castle of Gottorpe, and, in front of it,
caused to be built a great walled moat called Dannewerk.”12 It can no longer
be ascertained whether the folk name schwarze Grete was the source of or a
derivation from the nickname of the historical queen. A miniature portrait of
Queen Margaret, painted in the year of her death, adorns the second page of
an edict granting special rights and privileges to the city of Lübeck, but it de-
picts her with neither black complection, black hair, nor black dress.13 In any
case, neither the black attribute(s) of Grete/Margaret nor her various powers
and exploits in folk tales seem to explain Riepel’s use of this name for the
tonic minor. Rather, it would seem to be the theme of the woman usurping
the man’s role and prerogatives, found in the earliest chronicle reference to
Queen Margaret Sambiria and echoed, sometimes faintly or indirectly, in
folk tales, that correlates to what Riepel had in mind: the parallel minor is an
instance of a feminine minor key/chord temporarily taking over the mascu-
line role of ruling major tonic.
boisterous passage (Rauscher). One of four common types of passage that

Riepel (I, 39) distinguishes, with implications for functional differentiation
among phrases. Boisterous passages are characterized by energetic figures,
such as rapidly repeating notes; quick, wide-ranging but irregular arpeggios;
patterns of expanding leaps; etc. See, also leaping, running, singing.
cadence (Cadenz). As with the German terms Absatz (“comma”) and Ein-
schnitt or Abschnitt (“caesura”), explained below, “cadence” usually refers to
a harmonic/melodic/rhythmic/phrasing punctuation formula but can also refer
to the musical segment concluded by such a formula, in this case extending
from the beginning of a movement to the first cadence (as on page 47 of the
first chapter), or, by extension, from one cadence to another. This is not merely
an inconsistency because just as the nature and category of the punctuation
formula defines the segment that it concludes, so the content of the concluded
segment helps to define the punctuation at its end. They are really two recip-
rocal aspects of one thing. In some places (e.g., the first chapter, page 14),
Riepel makes a distinction between the cadence note and the end note. Thus,
the cadence note is the penultimate note of the cadence formula, to which the
12
Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, Accessiones Historicae (Hannover: Förster, 1698), I, 30: “Il-
lis diebus mortuo rege quandam muliere dicta nigra Margarita Regina Daciae sceptrum et
diadema, Regem opera fideliter agens, suscepit, terram Hosatiae hostiliter iinvadendo cas-
trum Gottorpe munivit, et ante illud magnum fossarum muratum Dennewerk vocitatum fieri
procuravit.”
xiv
melodic line generally falls. In Riepel’s presentation, the most conclusive

or complete cadence ends on a downbeat at the conclusion of descending
melodic motion through local scale degrees 3–2–1 harmonized by It–V(7)–IK
in the local key. However, the presence of these melodic-harmonic-metrical
features does not guarantee the presence of a cadence, which also depends on
context. Although a cadence may occur on any locally tonicized degree of the
original tonic scale, a cadence on the fifth degree (dominant) of the original
tonic is sometimes called an “changing cadence” (Änderungs-Cadenz). See
changing cadence, below.
caesura (Einschnitt, Abschnitt). In Riepel’s second chapter, this refers to a

melodic punctuation or articulation of a lower level than a comma (see be-
low). A caesura typically closes a two-measure segment, and it normally does
not have the melodic or harmonic characteristics of a comma. In some places,
Riepel seems to use this term to refer to the entire melodic segment and not
merely its concluding punctuation. The terms Abschnitt and Einschnitt share
this characteristic with the terms Absatz (“comma”) and Cadenz (“cadence”).
The punctuation and the segment punctuated are really two reciprocal aspects
of one thing.
changing cadence (Änderungs-Cadenz). See, by comparison changing com-

ma and tonic cadence below. Although the term “changing cadence” is used
only once, the composite symbol-term “□–cadence” [meaning “changing ca-
dence” or V-cadence] occurs in Riepel’s first two chapters thirteen times. A
cadence on the fifth degree is to be considered a changing cadence (i.e., a
V-cadence in I) when it occurs in the context of the original tonic. On the
other hand, a cadence on the fifth degree is to be considered a tonic cadence
in V when it occurs in the context of the key of the fifth degree.
changing comma (Änderungs-Absatz). This comma concludes with what is

usually called a “half-cadence” today, i.e., a phrase articulation marked by
harmonic/melodic/rhythmic/phrasing motion that comes to rest on the domi-
nant chord, either from the tonic, I–V, or from some predominant chord, such
as iv–V, iiy–V, or iiy–Vy/V–V. Riepel explains that the term “changing” is
used to point out that the concluding harmony of this type of comma must be
answered by a change of harmony at the next comma.
xv
clause (Clausel). A melodic segment, usually two measures long, often either
the first half of a complete comma-defined segment (phrase) or else a segment
inserted between two phrases but belonging to neither. A clause is typically
harmonically static and cantabile in style. Riepel considers a clause suitable
for repetition and/or recurrence. Hence, he calls such a segment a “sweet rep-
etition-clause” (süsse Wiederholungs Clausel), on pages 20 [9] and 34 [18].
comma (Absatz) There are two difficulties with Riepel’s use of the term Ab-
satz. In the first chapter, Riepel applies it to melodic/harmonic punctuations
of at least two different levels: roughly the two-measure level and the four-
measure level. In the second chapter, however, he restricts the term to melod-
ic/harmonic punctuations of segments of four measures or that are expanded
from or reduceable to four-measure segments that have specific properties.
However, the same term, Absatz, also occasionally refers to the melodic seg-
ment itself, in which case I add the word “segment” in square brackets, as
in the sentence “Longer comma [segments], namely with three or four mea-
sures, are allowed here because they do not have such a great similarity with
the [previously] imagined little song” (Längere Absätze, nämlich mit 3. oder
4. Täcten, sind daher erlaubt, weil sie mit dem gedachten Liedlein keine
so grosse Ähnlichkeit haben, 37 [20]). This double usage relates to the fact
that Riepel classifies comma-defined segments according to their conclud-
ing melodic/harmonic punctuation. Again, as in the case of the cadence and
caesura, the nature and category of the punctuation formula defines the seg-
ment that it concludes, while the content of the concluded segment helps to
define the punctuation at its end. They are really two reciprocal aspects of
one thing.
compass (Zirkel). Riepel intends, by this term, a drawing compass, not the
kind used in navigation. Every place where the word “compass” is found in
the translation, a drawing compass is meant.
complete (vollkomme). As a technical term, when it does not modify erhe-

bende (see “completely stirring,” below), vollkommene refers to the com-
pleteness, or closure, of a comma or cadence, where the melodic motion
through scale-degrees 3–2–1 is considered usually more complete than
a punctuation created by scale-degrees 7–8 (Chapter 1, 26–28 [13–14]);
likewise a melodic phrase that ends on the root of the tonic is more com-
plete than one that ends with the third of the chord in the melody. In Chap-
ter 2 (219–220 [43]) and Examples 480 and 481, Riepel also uses the term
xvi
“complete” to designate a phrase ending on a downbeat with a single note

that fills a measure. See “incomplete.”
completely stirring (notes, measure) (vollkommenen erhebende [Noten,

Tact]). This expression refers to the content of a rhythmically active mea-
sure, in which each beat is marked by the beginning of a note. Here, the word
erhebende is obviously used metaphorically, and it is difficult to translate
satisfactorily. The verb erheben is transitive and generally means “to lift,” “to
raise up,” “to elevate,” “to support,” etc., in all senses: physical, emotional,
spiritual, social. The expression erhebende Musik occurs often enough in lit-
erature, where its meaning is “uplifting music” or “stirring music.” Riepel,
himself, uses the word in this sense in Chapter 2 (314 [104]). The word er-
hebende can mean “moving” in this latter meaning but not in the rhythmic
sense, and so I have chosen to avoid this confusion. Clearly, Riepel does not
mean that a measure with rhythmic activity on each beat is literally “uplift-
ing” or “stirring,” in the usual sense. But such activity can be understood to
impart something that seems to impel the music. See “incompletely stirring
(notes, measure),” below. In Example 22, Riepel marks the measures alter-
nately as unvollkommen and vollkommen, but in the sentence that introduces
the example, he refers to vollkommen erbendenden measures. In marking
Example 22, therefore, Riepel clearly employed a shorthand or abbreviation.
This is carried further in his marking of Example 23, in which the abbrevia-
tions vollk. and unvollk. obviously stand for vollkommen erbendenden and
unvollkommen erbendenden, respectively. Therefore, in translating the mark-
ings on these two examples, I have filled out the intended terms with square
brackets. Thus, there is no inconsistency between Riepel’s early use of the
adverbs (un)vollkommen that modify the gerund erhebende, and his later use
of the adjectives (un)vollkommen that modify the nouns Absatz or Cadenz.
conclusive (endlich). This term refers to commas and cadences. Commas

and cadences are generally more “conclusive” if they proceed through scale
degrees 3–2–1. In this respect, “conclusive” can mean the same as “com-
plete.” Phrase puntuations are also more “conclusive” when they end on the
local tonic note, rather than on the third or fifth of the local tonic chord. In
this respect, too, “conclusive” can be the equivalent of “complete,” in one
meaning of that word.
cut away (eintheilen, eingetheilt, Eintheilung). Where this English transla-

tion is used, one of the German words derived from the infinitive eintheilen
xvii
was used in Riepel’s text. In all such cases, Riepel is writing about the re-
moval of a metrical unit, a measure, or several measures that were present in
a previously given passage, that might have been present, or that would have
been expected, especially as the completion of a familiar pattern, such as oc-
curs at a comma. When a single measure (or metrical unit) is removed where
a comma was expected, the first measure (or metrical unit) of the following
phrase is naturally found in its place. This results in that which some modern
analysts would call a “phrase elision.” In some places, however, Riepel uses
the word Eintheilung to mean “arrangement,” “organization,” or “division”;
and likewise the words eintheilen and eingetheilt. Our translation reflects this
secondary meaning where appropriate.
expansion (Ausdähnung, Ausdehnung, etc.). Riepel introduces this as a tech-

nical term on page 58 of the second chapter, where he opposes it to other
techniques of lengthening a melody by adding or repeating phrases. Expan-
sion, on the contrary, operates on the interior of phrases, by repetition (varied
or not) of metric units other than the concluding one or by insertion of metric
units extrinsic to the basic four (two for the subject and two for the predi-
cate). The last example of page 58 of the second chapter makes it clear that
an insertion between phrases, such as a monte, can be subject to expansion.
fonte (Fonte). Literally, “fountain.” One of the three standard types of con-
tinuation after the double bar in a binary movement. This one descends se-
quentially with a pattern of root progressions up a fourth and down a fifth, or
down a fifth and up a fourth. See, also, monte and ponte.
immobile (unbeweglich). This term refers to relatively slow note values, es-
pecially when a single note occupies an entire measure. The term is explicitly
or implicitly used in contrast to “mobile.”
incomplete (unvollkomme). An incomplete cadence or comma is usually

created by scale-degrees 7–8, instead of the more complete 3–2–1 motion
(Chapter 1, 26–28 [13–14]). Also a phrase that ends with the third of the
chord in the melody is less complete than one that ends with the root. Or a
phrase ending may be called “incomplete” if the caesura note does not fall on
the downbeat of a measure (second chapter, page 43). See “complete.”
xviii
incompletely stirring (notes, measure) (unvollkommen erhebende [Noten,

Tact]). Measures with “incompletely stirring notes” lack rhythmic activity
on one or more beats (Chapter 1, 13–14 [5–6]). However, the rhythm of an
“incompletely stirring measure” is not entirely “immobile” (see above). See
completely stirring (notes, measure),”above.
inconclusive (unendlich). The opposite of “conclusive.” Inconclusive com-

mas and cadences are typically created either by scale degrees 7–8, instead
of scale degrees 3–2–1, or by concluding on the third or fifth of the local
tonic chord, rather than on the local tonic note, itself, or by concluding on
the dominant, rather than the tonic harmony. In this respect, “inconclusive”
is identical to “incomplete,” in one meaning of that word.
insertion (Einschiebsel). Generally, Riepel shows insertions between com-

plete phrases, e.g., as shown in Example 549 (246 [61]). However, in Ex-
ample 579 (263–264 [72]) Riepel inserts musical parentheses between the
first two metric units (i.e., the subject) and the last two metric units (i.e., the
predicate) of musical sentences (Absätze) whose unity and identity had been
established in previously presented musical examples. In both cases–inser-
tions between phrases and insertions within phrases–the insertion is different
from an actual phrase because in lacks either or both a reciprocal subject-
predicate pair of caesuras and/or a proper comma. An insertion is, therefore,
a means of expansion and does not belong to the basic, underlying structure
of a piece of music.
key (Ton, Tonart). Riepel and his German contemporaries use the word Ton
for “key,” “mode,” and “pitch”; Tonart is also used as we, today, use the
words “key,” “mode,” and “tonality.” Often there is no ideal way of trans-
lating these two German terms. Riepel stands at the chronological end of
the church-key tradition, which was the last stage of modal nomenclature,
although Riepel thought of the church modes as belonging to the past. Gener-
ally, Riepel uses the word Ton when he designates a specific key, as F major,
as distinct from another key, as G minor. He uses the word Tonart more in
the sense of “tonality” or “mode,” including when he makes the distinction
between major and minor keys.
keyboard, harpsichord (Clavier). When Riepel distinguishes between the
xix
Clavier and the organ, the term “harpsichord” has been employed, even
though, in such cases, Clavier probably refers to the class of all stringed
keyboard instruments.
leaping (Springer). One of four standard styles that Riepel distinguishes,

with implications for functional differentiation among phrases. Leaping pas-
sages have rapid disjunct motion. The set of four is introduced on page 39 of
Riepel’s first chapter. See, also, boisterous, running, singing.
metric order (Tactordnung). This term is translated in parallel with “tonal

order” (Tonordnung), below. Riepel translates this term into Latin as Rhyth-
mopoeïa, or “scansion,” a term that implies the application of quantitative
(duration-based) or qualitative (accent-based) poetic scansion (patterning or
the discovery of patterning of long and short or accented and unaccented syl-
lables) to temporal or metrical patterns in music, not just at the level of notes
or beats but at the level of measures and phrases (Chapter 2, 127). However,
Riepel’s remarks (Chapter 1, 27; Chapter 2, 54) that stretching or expanding a
phrase through internal repetition does not change its rhythmic relation to the
other phrases, implies something more than quantitative scansion, something
that includes logical relations (Chapter 2, 52–53). While it was tempting to
translate Tactordnung as “phrase structure” or “periodicity,” these options were
rejected because the term and concept encompass the internal arrangement of
measures, as well as the arrangement of groups of measures.
mobile (beweglich). This term refers to relatively rapid note values, espe-
cially when combined with stepwise melodic motion. See “immobile.”
monte (Monte). Literally, “mountain.” One of the three standard types of

continuation after the double bar in a binary movement. This one rises se-
quentially with chordal-root movement down a third, up a fourth, down a
third, up a fourth, etc. or the reverse. Riepel considers this pattern clichéd,
and he calls it a “cobbler’s patch” (Schusterfleck). See, also, fonte and ponte.
A monte, fonte, or ponte is always an insertion between phrases, not a
proper, complete phrase in and of itself.
ponte (Ponte). Literally, “bridge.” One of the three standard types of contin-
uation after the double bar in a binary movement. This one features melodic
motion that neither rises nor falls, overall, and likewise static harmony. See,
also, fonte and monte.
xx
prolongation (Verlängerung). Riepel begins to use “prolong” and “prolon-

gation” as a somewhat technical terms on page 243 [58 of the second chap-
ter]. On page 246 [60–61 of the second chapter], Riepel mentions a fourth
and fifth method of prolongation. Although he does not use other ordinal
numbers earlier in this discussion, in is clear enough that the five methods of
prolongation are (1) [creation of and relations among] commas, (2) repetition
[of entire phrases or portions of phrases, possibly varied or with different
pitches], (3) [internal] expansion [through elaboration or insertion of derived
or unrelated material], (4) insertion, [between comma-defined phrases], and
(5) doubling of cadences [i.e., repetition, with or without elision, of entire
cadential phrases or only their conclusions] (187–196 [54–60]). Later in this
discussion, Riepel’s Discantist attempts to recapitulate by listing six ways to
“vary” an Allegro movement: “repetition, expansion, prolonging or shorten-
ing the [segments punctuated by] commas, doubling of cadences, and inser-
tion” (210 [71]).
running (Laufer). One of four standard styles that Riepel distinguishes, with
implications for functional differentiation among phrases. Running passages
feature rapid scalewise motion. The set of four is introduced on page 39 of
Riepel’s first chapter. See, also, boisterous, leaping, singing.
singing (Singer). One of four standard styles that Riepel distinguishes, with
implications for functional differentiation among phrases. Singing passages
feature conjunct motion, smooth contours, and relatively slow rhythm. The
set of four is introduced on page 39 of Riepel’s first chapter. See, also, bois-
terous, leaping, running.
tonal order (Tonordnung). This term is translated in parallel with “metric

order” (Tactordnung), above. This translated term is not meant to invoke the
modern concept of “tonality.” Instead, it attempts to preserve the multiple
meanings of the German word Ton: “pitch,” “scale degree,” “key,” “mode.”
In footnote 1 on the first page of Chapter 2, Riepel translates Tonordnung into
Latin as melopoeïa. In much of this treatise, Tonordnung almost seems to
mean “arrangement of keys” or “key structure.” To be sure, the term and con-
cept Tonordnung encompass modulation and the establishment of secondary
keys through control of both melody and harmony. However, Tonordnung
also can refer to the definition of scales and to the process of melodic inven-
tion, even the creation of new themes out of limited material by permutations
of pitches (Chapter 2, 25–30, 113–120).
xxi
tonic comma (Grund-Absatz, Grundsatz). This comma is created by har-

monic/melodic/rhythmic/phrasing motion that comes to rest with a dominant-
tonic chord progression in any local key. Thus, a tonic comma in the V key
is different from an alternation comma in the I key. As with the term Absatz,
this derivative may refer to the punctuation (comma) or the entire musical
segment concluded by the comma. Although Riepel does not use Rameau’s
terms tonique (“tonic”) or dominante (“dominant”), in any language form,
much less the Roman-numeral designations introduced later in the eighteenth
century by Georg Joseph Vogler, it has been found useful to employ these
designations in order to avoid awkward circumlocutions and to communicate
more easily with modern readers.
tonic, tonic key, tonic note (Haupt, Grundton, Hauptton). The same remarks
made about “tonic comma” apply here. Riepel uses Grundton and Hauptton
interchangeably for both overall tonic and local tonic. The translation chosen
depends upon the context. But whenever the terms “tonic,” “tonic key,” or
“tonic note” are found, the original German was either Grundton or Hauptton.
It is important to keep in mind that the term “tonic” (tonique), popularized by
Rameau, is not used by Riepel, who had little respect for the French theorist.
However, the use of the word “tonic” seems unavoidable in this translation, as
nothing closer to Haupt or Grund would communicate adequately.
xxii
Chapter 1
Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen Setzkunst: Nicht zwar nach alt mathe-
matischer Einbildungsart der Zirkel-Harmonisten, sondern durgehends mit
sichtbaren Exempeln abgefasset. De RHYTHMOPOEÏA, oder von der Tac-
tordnung. Zu etwa beliebigem Nutzen herausgegeben von Joseph Riepel,
Seiner Durchl. des Fürsten von Thurn und Taxis Kammermusicus. Zweyte
Auflage. Regensburg, verlegts Johann Leopold Montag, Buchhändler, 1754.
Foundations of Musical Composition: Not At All According to the Old Mathe-

matical Model of the Drawing-Compass-Harmonists, but Provided Through-
out with Visible Musical Examples. Concerning RHYTHMOPOEÏA; or,
Concerning Metric Order. Published Rather for Pleasurable Use by Joseph
Riepel, Chamber Musician to His Highness the Prince of Thurn and Taxis.
Second edition. Regensburg: printed by Johann Leopold Montag, book deal-
er, 1754. Translated by John Walter Hill, with Karen Ruhleder.
* *
NB. The readers are asked to look first at the postscriptum of the following
writing to the author’s good friend, which is set off with P. S.
* * *
[i] Reply of the author, which he sent to one of his good friends five
weeks ago.
Dear Brother!
You mentioned again, that I should let be published the Foundations [of
Musical Composition] that I wrote down so carelessly for the Discantist in
Monsberg a few months ago, along with [carrying out] my other business.
However, I fear the critics, specifically those quill-cutters who do not know
what composition is and yet consider themselves to be in a position to write
pompous books about it. My! Have you found anything in any of the folios I
recently sent you other than vain pomposities, and are there not unfortunately
even more of the same authors in folio these days, even those who are far
worse? If these are held up as examples over the most valued writers and over
the compositions of the most famous masters, how will they treat me? My
unselfish candor might end up costing me a great deal. You can get a small
picture of what I encountered only just last week in conversation with such an
1
orator, specifically the Lord Schoolmaster in Urbsstadt. He called me a freshly

baked composer beneath all others, even though he is barely 5 or 6 years older
than I am, and this on grounds that I did not first acquaint the Discantus with
the mysterious men, i.e., Pythagoreas, Boethius, Aretinus, and almost 50 oth-
ers, old and newer, whom he listed off in one breath. I could hardly rebuke the
good man as outdated since, in my Foundations, I use rules that are ancient
and grounded in nature itself (if only at my own discretion and in a simple
manner). He continued on and said, “One should by rights first understand
mathematics.” He himself had studied, for he understood the Latin language;
he was a theoretician, and, in a pinch, a practitioner. Good grief! I thereupon
thought to myself secretly, “Why not even an ‘Adeptus,’ just as the poor gold-
makers tend to call themselves?” For I well knew where he wanted to go with
this. However, it is known to my geometry master that I spent many hours on
my monochord with the compass in order (in particular with help from the
ear) to at last purely tune the keyboard. The Lord Schoolmaster attacked me
even more fiercely; and, at that, my intense blushing began to call forth more
laughter than pity among the bystanders, who were all his compatriots. I was
induced by who knows what kind of inner surge of emotion to finally ask
him emphatically: Whether more theory were not required for composi-
tion than for the calculation of so-called temperament? I was so beside
myself with confusion that I also asked why one may often set two or more
forbidden fifths or octaves; also, why one is so often compelled to set them.
Also, why a trained ear nowadays no longer hears the fourth as a consonance,
even though its ratio, 3:4, is closer to the unity than that of the thirds 4:5, 5:6,
and those of the sixths, 3:5, 5:8. It is said, I added, that <since the major limits
of each proportion are diversions from the unity, by their own principle, more
imperfect intervals will arise from there, and on the contrary.> For that very
reason I asked also what the name of the person was who forbade the setting
of two or more octaves and fifths in parallel motion. I assured him that it had
been no mathematician, because one of them recently assured me that, as far
as he understood composition, he wanted to fill out musical pieces with noth-
ing but octaves and fifths, because, in fact, they themselves, according to their
ratios, were the most perfect of all. Hereupon the Lord Schoolmaster had no
better answer ready at hand than, “Perhaps the word mathematics has various
meanings.” Now on this [ii] occasion I wanted to penetrate the matter more
deeply. I first suggested to him very quietly that such fighting among harmoni-
cally born people was simply inappropriate, etc. However, everything was for
naught. Thereupon the man became even more enraged; he invoked [the fol-
lowing] against me ten times, one time after the other: <You wish for the name
and the blessing!> I am embarrassed to write you all of the details. Even less
do I wish to think of the ill-mannered farewell that was given me at the end
2
Concerning Rhythmopoeïa; or, Concerning Metric Order
for my journey. What pains me most is that the wretched scribbler, the Lord
Schoolmaster of Monsberg, is hand in glove with [the Lord Schoolmaster
of Urbsstadt], which his cousin Hans-Michel freely admitted to me on Mon-
day. Brother, consider now! That is the thanks I received for all of my efforts
[working] with the Discantist. But virtue is its own reward. In consideration
of that, my insane wrath was abated a little. Your pleasing news, however, has
cheered me up completely. You write that it is incomprehensible how very far
the Discantist was able to progress in only about ten chapters or lessons, for he
was able to complete four or five good concertos more quickly than his Lord
was able to complete one bad one. He already composes such artful fugues and
church pieces that, given his age, one must be amazed by it. And, I should not
be angry that his ideas pleased you better than my own. Worthy friend, I know
it. The prodigy is, in truth, born to music. In short, you know that I will dedi-
cate this entire work to you, because you believe it can be of service to many
others, and you even wanted to talk with a second book seller about it, as the
first one had the audacity to look you in the face and say, “You have led me to
similar scrawls far too often, so that scholars (their reliable carriers) conse-
quently had their hands full trying to help make up for the harm [those books]
have done.” If, after that, you, in fact, seriously want to take it upon yourself
to see it in print soon, so much the better, as long as it does not look as though
I were overjoyed by that. Here you have, then, the first chapter. The rest I wish
to fill out a bit more, and I will send them to you by and by. You will read in
one or the other of them, not without heartbreak, how much both the two Lord
Schoolmasters and the Lord Choirmaster, or the current titular Chapel Master
in Vallerhal, sought to keep the Discantus away from my instruction by openly
blackening my name. In the meantime, as an excellent poet, you will perhaps
wish to complete verses and paeans about it, in order to present it as complete
in every detail, just as one sees at the start of many books on music. However, I
would not recommend that to you, because these three gentlemen could there-
upon say, “We understood the one [chapter] as little as the other.” I will not
even have an introduction with it. In my opinion, it is enough to have the word
Foundations in the title. Or it could also read something like, “An ABC for
those who desire to understand the rules of composition and not for those
who know how to prescribe how to compose.” My name can be placed all
the way at the bottom in small letters, just as if it had been done this way out of
modesty or somehow against my wishes. Provided, however, that my picture
(portrait) is visible on the first page, so people will guess how much of a fight
there was. For the rest, I know that you will be silent about everything herein
that I have frankly confided to you, just as I am always, correspondingly.
Your completely loyal brother
3
P.S. Whoever already knows more than the Discantist, him you can advise
that he should not look at the far-too-ridiculous opening discussion of the
worthless minuet, but rather begin to read immediately on page 23 (on met-
ric order in particular). Thereby he will learn to see, by and by, that even
some adult composers do not know what Tactordnung (“metric order”) is,
composers who, in any case, could very easily come before the eyes of the
world as witnesses to it. Concerning what further will be said in the second
chapter (on tonal order), for the encouragement of the too-timorous begin-
ners, everything will be diligently marked, and at the same time it should be
shown that musical Rhythmopoeïa can by no means exactly correspond to
Latin poetic meter. P.S. Without any doubt one has had the audacity even to
sketch rules for it in one’s treatise. One thing more: In the manuscript there
are a few small errors, and specifically on page 53, at the beginning of the
fourth system, I have left out the number 4. In the penultimate system of the
same, right at the beginning: the number 2 instead of 1 should be placed.
Further, on the right, instead of 2, a 3 should be placed, and on the left as
well as at the beginning, the number 3 instead of 2. On page 54, in the eighth
system, also at the beginning, instead of the number 4, a 2 should be placed.
And on page 71, in the first system, at the right side, a fa should replace the
mi. All the same, you will forget to take note of these and other errors in the
print.
4
[1] First Chapter
Concerning Metric Order1
Discantist. My lord, the Lord Schoolmaster in Monsberg, greets Your Lordship

cordially and asks whether you might teach me a little about composition.
Preceptor. I am glad that the Lord Schoolmaster has so much confidence in me.
Disc. As far as I know, he can tolerate Your Lordship very well.
Prec. I am much obliged to him for that. However, extensive ceremonies can,
perhaps, only hinder us. Since birth, I have never really been able to endure
the word lordship. If you it pleases you, let us rather use du [the familiar
form] with one another.
Disc. Gladly; I know everything will be sincere that way. Here my lord has
given me several sheets of paper on which you can write down for me the com-
plete set of rules.
Prec. To cover all the rules of composition on a few sheets of paper, consider-
ing the inexhaustible sea of music, would be as little possible as diverting the
Danube here by means of a narrow-gauge fountain.2
Disc. My lord said, however, that I should endeavor to be finished with you
quickly. He will take me in his care himself, and he would make a complete
man out of me.
Prec. I believe it. I know quite a lot of Lord Schoolmasters who could give
advice to supposed chapel masters, myself, at times, included. Hopefully your
lord is not the worst among them. However, I tell you that in two or three
days we will not be through with our writing, above all because I do not have
time to plan a brief summary. Thus, I will write, sometimes straightforwardly,
sometimes obliquely, only a little bit about all of these rules; about this little
bit, however, I will write extensively rather than not at all. In brief: in fourteen
days you should learn from me what I have learned in more than fourteen
1
De metro. <Although foot, meter, and rhythm are exactly the same, even among excellent
writers.> See Vossius, De Poem. & Vir. Rhythmi, 11.
2
<In truth a drop can carve a stone.> And I make these remarks in part only for amusement. To
some extent, I do not gladly remain idle if I can have something to play with.
5
years from others, NB: as long as you grasp everything well. Now tell me,
do you have good inspirations and ideas in your head in order to bring them
to paper?
Disc. Oh yes, if only I could write the bass to them.
Prec. You should learn that from me in a single day. However, I first want to
know whether you already have sufficient knowledge of the orderly division of
a melody. For whoever wishes to build a house must have the materials for it.
Disc. I want to set down quickly some French dances, or so-called minuets,
in order to demonstrate my aptness.
Prec. To be sure there is no great glory in composing minuets, although there

is a bit of it if done conscientiously. Since, however, a minuet, with respect to
execution, is no different from a concerto, an aria, or a symphony (which
will become clear to you within a few days), we want always to begin with
something very small and inconsiderable in order later to arrive at something
larger and more praiseworthy.
Disc. From my point of view, there is in all the world nothing easier to com-
pose than a minuet. In fact, I feel confident that I can quickly write a dozen of
them in succession. Just look at this example in C. (I only want to see what
in it will be rejected.)
[2] I have placed numbers under the measures so that you can more easily
point out if—counter to all expectations—anything should be lacking. I re-
ally do not want to brag about it.
Prec. Heavens! You do not yet know one note from another. From this min-
6
uet, if I may call it that, I will take a few singing or cantabile measures; the
rest may please whom it will. From my side, I would not give you a good
tobacco pipe for it.
Disc. I did not anticipate that. But the reason?
Prec. Number 1. I say that even numbers of measures are pleasant to the
ear in all compositions and are especially required in a minuet.3 You, how-
ever, have made an uneven number in the second part, namely thirteen.
Number 2. In general, each part should contain no more than eight mea-
sures in all. Thus you have not truly erred in the first part but rather in the
second part, perhaps because you also do not yet know how one distinguishes
a twosome, a threesome, and a foursome. As a result you have. . . .
Number 3. . . . not made the beginning, or theme, sufficiently distinctive

and clear by means of recognizable twosomes or foursomes.
Number 4. I see some immobile and some excessively stepwise-running

measures, whereas in a minuet, on the contrary, completely or incompletely
stirring notes are always required up to the cadence.
Number 5. In the second part I see not a single measure that has any
similarity with those of the first half. That must surely be addressed, because
in a minuet one must take care to furnish full connection, just as much as
in a concerto, an aria, a symphony, etc. Therefore I would like, rather than
such a variety of kinds of notes and measures, to make an easy half dozen out
of them.
Number 6. A very experienced natural historian once confided in me that

a minuet would advance politely and quite infallibly correctly, without a lot
of contemplation, if it rises in the first part and falls in the second. In yours I
see, however, exactly the reverse.
Number 7. Exemplary minuet connoisseurs prefer that the fourth and

fifth measures, especially in the first part, be well differentiated: that is, if
the fourth measure has completely stirring notes, the fifth should consist of
incompletely stirring ones, or vice versa.
Disc. That is terrible! If I but knew quickly what a twosome, a threesome,
3
Menuet
7
[and] a stirring or running note is, I would begin to revise in a twinkling.
Prec. A twosome4 consists of two measures followed by another two mea-

sures that are usually similar in rhythm, for example:
It is better, however, in such two successive twosomes, that the rhythm be

not exactly the same in all the notes, but rather one can write them this way:
Now a threesome5 consists of three measures of the same sort, for example [3]
Disc. Now I understand that very well because one sees and hears it. But
which are better for a minuet, twosomes or threesomes?
Prec. Twosomes, since threesomes are of no use at all for it. However, I will
tell you still today when and where the latter can be well introduced.
4
Binarium
5
Ternarium
8
Disc. Therefore, one can make a threesome out of a twosome or the latter out
of the former, if one, for example, adds or subtracts a measure to or from it.
Prec. By all means. Now a foursome6 consists of four measures, e.g.
Such a foursome can always have a place and a voice in a minuet.
Disc. I believe it, because it is not very little different from two twosomes, e.g.
Prec. However, if another foursome did not follow, I might have to accept
your opinion in the end. I would make the twosomes more distinct than
yours, e.g.
Disc. That is true, but what is the reason for it?
Prec. It is because here the other twosome is set one step higher. Your two-
somes, on the other hand, both conclude in the key of F.
Disc. Now I also understand that. But tell me, which are better, twosomes or
foursomes.
Prec. I know of no distinction between the two.
Disc. But I wonder why my lord has never spoken about such useful and im-
portant things. Perhaps he does not even know what a twosome, a threesome,
and a foursome are.
Prec. Be still! That would be surprising. How could he then present himself as
6
Quadnarium
9
a composer? It is certainly this, namely a complete grasp of metric order, that

is, among other things, a principal part of the composition of all musical
works, and not even the fugal types are completely excluded from this, as we
will see later on.7
Disc. Let us go on meanwhile. Now I want to improve my minuet first ac-

cording to Number 1 and only to cut out of the second part the third measure
marked “✠” so that the threesome becomes a twosome, e.g.
[4] And thus there are exactly twelve measures here in the second half. And
that improved Number 1. Tell me briefly, what are stepwise running notes?
Prec. They are the following, e.g.
Because these walk or run after each other without leaping over a line or
space.8 On the other hand, notes moving by leaps are, e.g.
Because some leap onto the lines, and some leap over them.
7
One or another stale fly-catcher may well be amazed by such things, especially if he does not
want to understand. It is a question here only of my equal, since I had to hear the word half-
baked quite often.
8
Intervallum.
10
Disc. Well then! Under Number 2 you stated that each part should consist of
only eight measures. Therefore I will completely omit the excess stepwise
running notes in measures 5, 6, 7, and 8 of the second part, e.g.
and make quarter notes in measures 9 and 10, which now become measures
5 ✠ 6, e.g.
That improved Number 2. But why are stepwise running notes not good?
Prec. Oh to be sure, they are good and to be sure among the very best notes in
an Allegro assai or Tempo presto and prestissimo of a symphony, a concerto,
or a solo, and so on, because due to their flowing lightness they in no way
hinder the rapid course of bow strokes. They are loved by singers as much as
by instrumentalists, who, however, prefer rising to falling runs, e.g.
Disc. And perhaps also easier for flutes, oboes, horns, and trumpets?
Prec. Certainly; for those especially.
Disc. I must take careful note of this wonder of nature, since I believe that
hundreds of decisions are to be made about this in composing.
11
Prec. In a minuet, however, completely stirring [notes], namely quarter notes,

are needed instead [of stepwise running notes], e.g.
which can also be varied or changed, e.g. [5]
But the following variation, in which the full quarter note is placed at the end,
is scarcely tolerable in a minuet, e.g.
Disc. Thus, would the following way perhaps also be not good?
Prec. A single measure “✠” of that sort may slip through in the end. The last
four measures in your minuet I would also gladly let stand as follows:
Disc. And why just these?
Prec. Because the minuet yearns for its cadence or repose just as a hungry
man rushes from his work to his dinner, or . . . You should not laugh, for I
must introduce these and a thousand other analogies, especially to a begin-
ner, in order that he not fill his composition with empty, silly, and routine
notes.
Disc. Don’t be angry. Now, concerning Number 3, I would rather improve

my minuet throughout with clear twosomes and foursomes, e.g.
12
And that was Number 3.
Prec. Before you begin Number 4, I must say that an immobile note in the
middle of such a short or dance-like minuet is never used, except at the end
of the first and second parts. One can, however, make such an immobile or
dead note lively in the following manner, e.g.
These are incompletely stirring, e.g.
Now two such measures [in a row] are not useful in a minuet. Therefore one
always places a completely stirring [measure] after or before, e.g.
[6] Disc. Good. Now, however, I want to change the minuet further and make
the fifth note “✠” [i.e., the notes in the fifth measure] of the first part a little
more lively, e.g.
13
And that was Number 4. Now I know that I may place completely stirring
[notes] throughout (except for the final notes of each part), e.g.
Prec. This is livelier. The previous one, on the other hand, was more cantabile,
since incompletely stirring [notes] produce more cantabile.
Disc. I know that already. But now I want to ask whether I can also make use
of dotted notes, e.g.
Prec. No. In a minuet these do not seem to be at all good, except for a limping
dance master. The following please me better by two-thirds, e.g.
Disc. Good. I will follow that rule. And concerning Number 5, I believe that
there is enough similarity in the minuet that I have improved. I will write out
the minuet once more and mark the similarity with the sign “✠.,” e.g.
14
And that was Number 5. Take note! In the first part the notes marked ✠ go
down, whereas in the second they go up. And thus I believe that sufficient
similarity or connection will be heard.
Prec. Who told you that? Listen, the reversal of the notes marked ✠ are
considered by many merely a decoration. One often uses this device in other
compositions; in fact one is often forced to use it. However, I may not have
noticed them immediately in your minuet had I not seen the explanatory sign
✠ by them. [7]
Disc. Thus, I could certainly have done it this way, e.g.
15
If I had time I would bring out still more similarities. But I would rather ask
you about Number 6. What do rising and falling mean?
Prec. Is this really quite easy to understand?
Disc. Good. I want my minuet to rise and fall like that, e.g.:
And that was Number 6.
Prec. Wait a bit! You have climbed far too high. I would say that, in this way,
the minuet is too youthful, because the melody thereby loses its seriousness
and manliness.
Disc. I need only begin lower, e.g.
[8]
Prec. That is very good. Nevertheless, one need not make every twosome
rise or fall. In fact, just as often the cadence of the second part produces the
descent all by itself: likewise in the first part a single note “✠” can produce
the ascent, e.g.
16
Disc. Pardon me; I do not like it nearly as well as an orderly rising and fall-
ing. I hope to compose better ones.
Prec. Concerning Number 7, I want to point out to you the incompletely and
completely stirring [notes] in the fourth and fifth measures by means of larger
numbers.
Disc. What about the second part?
Prec. It could also observe [this rule], if it wanted to. Only it is often so ex-
travagant that it will follow no rule at all. Moreover, the first part can take in
an attentive connoisseur so well that he does not pay much attention to the
second part, since the latter is to be perceived merely as the resolution (Be-
schluß) of the former.
Disc. Therefore I want to set down one in order to introduce the afore-men-
tioned motions into the second part as well, e.g.
17
And that was finally Number 7. Thus might I now boast that I know how to
compose an orderly minuet?
Prec. You should never boast.9 The rules alone do not suffice. For if someone
else composes a minuet with a less orderly arrangement but with a livelier
songlike melody10 [9] such a minuet would perhaps find more success with
connoisseurs than yours, with all its assembled rules and calculations.
Disc. I know well that one must always and chiefly search for a good melody.
But is its suitability to be found solely in the rising and falling?
Prec. Yes indeed. For such rising minuets (according to No. 6 of the afore-
said naturalist) are the most apt of all to move the emotions of the listener
and even occasionally to move his very legs. I will also try to achieve that
with one or another lively Allegro of a symphony in the future. By means of
such a consideration, namely whether I should begin in the high range, the
middle, or the low range, a theme or beginning will at least come to mind
more quickly.
Disc. I will also take note of this advantage. But in a minuet ought one write
no more than sixteen measures?
9
<Praising oneself smells bad>, speaking in Latin. A little bit of conceit and arrogance will
harm the discantist just as little as it does all the honest people in the world.
10
Cantabile.
18
Prec. Who wants to forbid you? An exceptional idea can occasionally be

repeated, or such ideas can make the repetition itself expressive and
pleasing, as seen in all other genres. This repetition serves at times as a beau-
tiful, ingenious idea,11 a charming thought, at times a good clause, or even a
pretty clause.12
Disc. I understand. It is just like saying that I have a tasty extra morsel at
home. I want to try it out, e.g.
Prec. I cannot digest your “delicacies.” Too much is unhealthy. My opinion

is that, if nothing is repeated in the first part, the repetition in the second part
can therefore become more impressive. One must never be extravagant even
with good things, but always try to win listeners with good taste.
Disc. That is so much easier. Thus I ought to repeat the clause only in the
second part, e.g.
Acumen.
11
Here that does not mean the end or the cadence.

12
19
I wanted to change the clause a little here with diligence. Moreover, I notice
that, if one composed a thousand minuets, the sweet repetition-clause “✠”
could always be brought in, e.g.
[10]
Prec. It matters nothing to me if you get on well only with those who can
tolerate no more than sixteen measures in a minuet.
Disc. But my lord recently said that minuets must be organized quite differ-
ently in chamber music.
Prec. Better your lord had said, “It can still use a little modification.” I, on the
other hand, think that a minuet must remain an orderly minuet if it is to please
the listeners as a minuet, both in the chamber and out of it. For anything else
is a Tempo di Minuetto.
Disc. I know well that threesomes serve no use in this genre. But I want
quickly to compose a minuet and to try out two threesomes only in the second
part, e.g.
Prec. Who told you already about threesomes?
Disc. I have just simply imagined them and fitted them out with abruptly
halting notes, e.g.

20
which I admit are not fit for a minuet. But

such a minuet, after twenty regular ones,
could serve for a change, namely in a piece
of chamber music. Let me just go a little
further, mixing immobile notes with the rest, e.g.
I know that it rises too little; nevertheless it is quite surely good in the cham-
ber, since it is cantabile. In the second part, I will now place a foursome after
two twosomes, namely before the cadence, e.g.
Prec. The foursome fits here just like a fist in the eye.
Disc. Be still. Now several foursomes should appear, e.g.
21
[11]
Prec. This is scarcely a hair better than the preceding.
Disc. Now you will see something wonderful. I will put a fivesome in the
first part and add a threesome to it, do the exact reverse in the second part,
and consequently arrive at sixteen measures, as all minuet connoisseurs
demand. At the same time, I will begin with a pick-up note, e.g.
And perhaps yet a thousand others of the same sort.
Prec. Phooey! That is an outlandish composition, confusing to the ear. You

need only add a second violin an octave lower and perhaps even make a Tar-
tar minuet out of it. e.g.
22
Disc. Similar amusing varieties can at times find one or another admirer. One
does not have to be always serious and sour-faced. By the way, I remember
having heard a minuet and trio in which neither twosome, threesome, nor
foursome, etc., were audible, and, in fact, by a famous master.
Prec. I do not think that anybody who shows neither order nor clarity in his
compositions could be called a master.
Disc. Then I will make a serious minuet, and to be sure with sixteen measures
in each part, namely thirty-two in the whole, e.g.
Prec. Stop it! Stop it! Such superfluous repetitions serve only to spoil the
paper. In the chapter on tonal order, I will show you how one must compose a
minuet of thirty-two measures. If only you had done here exactly as I advised
you to do at the beginning, namely with sixteen measures, e.g.
23
[12]
Disc. Now don’t be angry with me. I don’t have to steer myself in the future
only according to your way of thinking.
Prec. You must not steer yourself only according to your own, either.
Disc. I know that well, for the more heads there are the more sense, so that
one should, perhaps, compose otherwise for another person. Tell me, by the
way, what kind of measures and notes could one use in a minuet for chamber
music now and then, other than this general style of composing?
Prec. All those seen in all compositions. One uses immobile, doubled, wind-
ing, level-repeating, slurred, and staccato notes, with rests after and before
them or with ties to adorn the paper, e.g.:
24
13
Were I to write out extended examples of all types and varieties, you would
perhaps need a large wagon in order to carry them home; even the examples
that we have written up to now and will write in the future could be altered in
various ways, let’s say, often in several hundred ways if not thousands more
than there are flowers and plants in the world.
Disc. Why don’t you provide that explanation along with each example?
Prec. I would have too much to write. However, if you wish, I will give you
to understand such singular or manifold variations from now on by using the
sign Θ. At any rate, when we have finished the second chapter, namely the
one on tonal order, [13] I will teach you how you will be able to invent more
than a hundred Themata14 in a single day.
Disc. Meanwhile, I would very gladly believe that. Only tell me a bit about
something else now. Earlier you said that cadences are not classified accord-
ing to whether they rise or fall; therefore it would make no difference whether
they are low, e.g.
13
The word voices is used (even if not in the proper sense) only in consideration of the paper.
Thus, one often says, “the concertato voice, the contrabass voice, etc.” Otherwise, the voice
(lat. vox) means the singers more especially than the instruments.
14
Thema: the proposition upon which the entire musical piece is founded.
25
or high, e.g.
Prec. Without doubt. However, I would rather hear these third cadences in the
first part than in the second.
Disc. Why do you call them third cadences?
Prec. Because the last note before the final note forms a third with the bass, e.g.
Or in the low range (in which I take the third and the tenth, however, as one
and the same thing), e.g.15
Many people also call these incomplete cadences, and they say that they are not
sufficient to put the ear at rest completely at the end of a piece of music. For
that reason one often sees the complete, or fifth cadence used at the end, e.g.
15
Because I will have to write more in particular about this in the chapter on the bass.
26
If the fifth cadence is considered complete, e.g.
why should the following be incomplete?
Prec. As you already heard, because they do not completely close an entire
musical composition. Indeed, they must serve often only in middle voices,
e.g. [14]
Disc. Now I see, at the same time, with open eyes why one is called the fifth
cadence and the other is called the third cadence. Namely, one may count up
only a little from the G in the bass in order to see that the B natural, or the
so-called H, in the second violin is the third note,16 just as the D in the first
violin is the fifth, or the Quint.
Prec. We will address that in more detail at some other time. For now, in-
complete [cadences] will be written very often as self-standing cadences,
that is, without the fifth cadence. What is more, when [incomplete cadenc-
es] are placed after one or more fifth cadences, in haste they are taken by
many listeners to be more complete than the latter. Here is only a short ex-
ample of that:
16
Tertia nota: the third.
27
Disc. At least they occasionally serve as variants. They may be in whatever

key you wish, isn’t that so?
Prec. Exactly. Here I must say something: notice that the German for cadence
is “fall,”17 because it falls to the final or resting note, e.g.
Here the cadence note is A, and the final note18 is

G. Notwithstanding, one usually says inaccurately
cadence is in G, etc. We both will abide by
that the
this convention.
Disc. But the E and the C also belong to the cadence as well, because they fall.
Prec. Certainly they belong to it, but not just because they fall. For the ca-
dence could also be formulated in the following way, e.g.
The incomplete cadence notes also fall

upward, so to speak, e.g.
as does the cadence of the fundamental, or bass, at the same time.
Disc. I want quickly to try a minuet with a third cadence in both the first and
the second parts, e.g.:
17
From “to fall,” in Italian cadere, from which cadenza.
18
Nota finalis.
28
Prec. We will now leave the minuet and tackle metric order in particular all
the more seriously.
Disc. Just a little more patience! My lord once composed a crab minuet. I do
not understand what that might be. [15]
Prec. Your lord must have been very young at the time, for one has far differ-
ent and more useful things to search for in composition. However, in order to
satisfy your curiosity, I will tell you that such a minuet is nothing other than
an imitation of the Latin poets who (even if not very frequently) took care
to write verses19 that could be read backward, letter by letter. Such a verse
served a composer (whom I closely followed) to remind him of his chal-
lenge.20 The minuet can be read directly thus:
Disc. But where is the second part?
Prec. Haven’t you understood? In the repetition, one must begin in both voic-
es at the end and proceed to play backward note by note, so that the last will
be first and the first will be last. If you only pay attention that the beginning
will serve as a cadence and that the cadence will serve as a beginning, then
you will be able to compose ten minuets faster than a poet can bring forth
19
Carmina.
20
Sano decisum sero res musice donas [a Latin palindrome meaning “You give rules of music
too late”].
29
a single poem from his imagination. At the same time, however, the sign Θ
may be used.
Disc. I understand the sign already. But it will nevertheless not suffice until
I have seen and understood the chapter on the bass.
Prec. If one, however, wishes to imitate the verse in question quite exactly,
it would have to be thus:
This would be nothing more than a perpetual repetition, however.
Disc. Please write just a bit more so that I might understand all that belongs
to the art of composing.
Prec. Gladly. If you as yet do not know how to imitate with the bass, look at
this Trio, e.g.:21
21
A Minuet-Trio is meant here, which should rightly consist of three voices, from which it
takes its name. The word is no longer used too strictly, for otherwise Trio means as much as à
tre. I will bring up nothing further fossilized about the origins of the name Trio.
30
[16]
Or if you do you have the bass to follow two quarter notes later:
\\
One could also have the bass follow after four or five quarters, that is Θ.
Disc. My lord also composed something similar, which he called, however,

a canon.
Prec. I think that word would be too high-toned for a two-voice piece. Later
I will show you what a canon is with four voices. Furthermore, at that time
I would like to write down a hundred other childish discoveries and rarities,
but were you to detain yourself over such playthings nothing much would
become of you. Busy yourself, rather, at the first opportunity, with respect to
the previous examples, to compose several thousand good minuets, always
with the aforementioned considerations of the Θ.
Disc. I will leave nothing undone. But in the meanwhile, I would like to know
just a little bit about how to set the bass to a minuet [melody].
Prec. Always something more? The bass is set to it just as it is to any other
piece, except that it must be rather young than serious.
Disc. What does young mean?
Prec. Look, in a tutti or full-voiced piece it is older and lower. In a solo, on

the other hand, a generally higher bass is used, as if it should take the place
of the second violin. Now because a minuet usually consists of one single
31
voice, it can be viewed as nothing other than a solo. And if the bass takes the
place of the second violin, it must move by thirds now and then. In a word,
the two voices, for the sake of unity, must always remain close together, but
only insofar as the serious aspect of the bass is not impaired too much by
it. A lot of running eighth notes are not used in it because such passages are
not only difficult to play but are also less suited to ennoble. I will try one of
the minuets that you threw together just now, e.g.:
This bass is indeed almost too young because of the many thirds. Even
though in this way it is prominent due to its high register, [17] because it al-
ways assists the melody, namely the violin, and even though it is common to
write high bass lines nowadays, one must nevertheless treat it with care, since
many who venerate the past always want to assert that it may ascend [only]
to C and rarely to D. But as soon as we deal with the bass, I will show you
that most contrabass players, or so-called violonists, are guilty of climbing
up to F or G when there is occasion to do so. Meanwhile, in music, constant
movement22 must be audible, that is, when one or two voices rest the re-
maining parts must move. Many composers23 transgress against that rule.
But since I do not have the opportunity to speak about it more extensively at
this time, I am giving just a little attention to the following notes and the bass
set under them, e.g.
22
Mobile perpetuum.
23
Or, to put it better, discantists, so that I will make myself hated by a few [note-]smiths of
that sort.
32
Disc. I understand that. If the violin rests even for an instant, the bass moves
simultaneously in eighth notes or vice versa.
Prec. Except that in minuets the bass usually creates movement only with
quarter notes, e.g.
Disc. That is good, too, since the bass, here, surely makes the motionless
[melody] notes a little lively.
Prec. However, since taste24 always maintains priority in music, one finds
occasional opportunities to depart slightly from this very strict rule. I want to
write out here, among other things, only the repetition clause of the previous
minuet. You will hear that it does not sound bad, e.g.
24
Gustus.
33
and Θ, that is, in a thousand ways.

[18]
Disc. It was really not necessary say anything about the thousand ways. But
is it true what my lord said recently, that he has heard that the viola, although
it only serves as middle voice for filler, must have its own flowing cantabile;
it may go as it wishes, like the upper or lower voices.
Prec. Your lord is right. For if it has no orderly and smooth motion, it may do
more harm than good.
Disc. And the bass, he continued, must at times have a different and even
much more long-winded cantabile. Therefore, could one also bestow upon it
a sweet repetition-clause?
Prec. Certainly. Look at this minuet.
34
In such a clause, one allows the viola25 to go in unison with the bass.
Disc. I also like the beginning of the second part because the bass and the
violin beautifully alternate with motion, e.g.
Prec. You are not mistaken in that. Beyond that, this passage is too common
and, consequently, not very useful. Mark well! The second measure of it is
what I call a comma [Absatz],26 likewise the fourth [measure], e.g.
[19] The bass always leaps up a fourth at the same time (reckoning from the
root).
These two similarly constructed commas also come exactly on the beat, as
they do in the second half of this old, well-known cliche, e.g.
25
Viola da braccio: arm- or hand-viola, as opposed to the viola da gamba, or leg-viola. The
Bratsche is at times written viola, sometimes alto-viola, more often these days with the dimin-
utive, violetta, because this instrument is no longer as large and unwieldy as in former times.
26
Comma: like the comma in the reading of a text. There is another comma [i.e., the Pythago-
rean comma] , which is part of musical rational calculation, about which I intend to make my
meaning clear after I, God willing, am finished with the complete compositional rules.
35
Therefore, it is called by many a cobbler’s patch (spoken with all respect),

because it serves perhaps only a beginner who does not know any other way
to create a melody.
Disc. Thus, perhaps one should write in the following way. e.g.:
Prec. These are nothing but variations or full-blood brothers of one another
and consequently not one hair better.
Disc. What is do be done about the thing?
Prec. Nothing more than to change the other twosome a little if needs be, e.g
It is still better if the first comma is immobile while the second is mobile, or
the reverse, e.g.
Especially when the beginning of the other twosome is changed, too, e.g.
36
Mobile commas can be further divided into inconclusive and conclusive.

These are inconclusive, e.g.:27
[20] These are conclusive, e.g.:28
Therefore, the first comma can be formulated likewise as conclusive and the
second as inconclusive, or the reverse, e.g.
If you then consider conclusive, inconclusive, mobile, and immobile, you

can spin out many Θ. Longer comma [segments], namely with three or four
measures, are therefore allowed because they do not have such a great simi-
larity with the aforesaid little melody, e.g.
27
They do not resolve to an octave with the bass, but rather they arrive at the third [or tenth
above the bass].
28
Which resolve to the octave at the end.
37
To make matters worse, some of these seem to be too commonplace, so they

rightly tend to vary the second foursome., e.g.
Also in 2/4, or common time, e.g.
And with respect to conclusive, inconclusive, mobile, and immobile, how

and when to make Θ is up to you.
Disc. I can well imagine that. Are the following commas also to be rejected?
e.g.:
Prec. By no means. Why have you not remembered the leap of a fourth in
the bass?
Disc. Be still! Now I understand.
Prec. Consequently, now you will understand that descending commas are
just as good, e.g.
Disc. I remember, however, having seen the following commas in an aria,

where the bass also had the leap of a fourth, e.g.
38
[21]
Prec. These are perceived more as a continuous [sequential] melody than [a
series of] commas, and in that respect they are very good.
Disc. Out of my commas
Prec. Yes, and certainly Θ.
Disc. But now I have thought about something. Don’t be angry at me; you
seem a bit agitated. You have composed minuets (perhaps still in your youth)
among which I have seen one, namely with the two commas [marked with a]
✠. I know it by heart, look, e.g.
39
Example 88, cont,
Prec. You are quite mistaken. I was already ashamed to compose minuets in
my youth. It may be that I was forced to do it. And even in that case, I would
have hardly composed a second violin part for it, because it frequently takes
away the clarity of the upper or leading voice, namely the first violin, not
only in minuets but in all other compositions. For the listener, as is well
known, does not like to tax his ears with many competing things but would
rather only fix his attention upon a single, main melody, which the other
voices in part support, in part reinforce, but must in no way confuse. Many
earlier composers did not understand that, but rather they filled everything
with cabbage and turnips. [22]
Disc. It is good that I know that; otherwise I would have believed that in the
first part, the second violin would also have to be set in the following way,
e.g:
Prec. Yet it is no mistake. Whether or not it pleases me overall does not con-
cern you. You should never imagine that one must set it in exactly one
way and in no other.29
Disc. I believe it, for I have heard the most beautiful minuets by worthy mas-
29
<No rule is without exception.>
40
ters with not only three but even with four voices. My lord said the following
about this minuet when he heard it: “Such an immature dare-devil does not
yet know how to avoid forbidden octaves, and he begins, nevertheless, to
follow blindly the corrupt taste of the day. Such a one makes his music thin-
ner than a copper coin by using forte and piano. Youngsters should imagine
how valuable ducats were at one time, when they used large and easily vis-
ible notes. Ah yes! They seek to cut everything up into such little pieces that
one could lose one’s eyesight over it. They should rather apply themselves to
their art, if they had the good sense.”
Prec. Your lord is a little too harsh. For piano and forte cannot be a new dis-
covery, since in music they are nothing other than what shadow and light are
in painting. And if that scribbler used the second violin to reinforce the bass
(which your lord singled out) at the repetition-clause after the two cobbler-
patch commas in the second part of the minuet, e.g.
I would not fault him, NB, if he had done it with deliberation and good fore-
thought. For they are not forbidden octaves but rather they are looked upon
as a unison30 by all good masters of the present day. I said to you a half of a
quarter hour ago that when the bass alone has a clause or a particularly ex-
ceptional melody, one can allow the viola to go along similarly with it in such
a unison. However, what such a reinforcement of the bass by the viola can
do for good effect your lord will never imagine for himself. He is so greedy
for money that he will never give up cutting ducats. In the meantime he is
right that one must apply oneself to one’s art in order to become skilled at it
and to be able to awaken either joy or sorrow, etc., in the listener. Otherwise,
the art is no art but rather an empty fantasy, as these two-hundred-year-old
verses say:
30
Unisonus.
41
Music is for hearing, painting is for the eyes,

The cook is always loved and honored according to taste;
Where, however (mark well!) the last is not suitable,
The first three are not worth a penny.
However, I notice one other thing, namely today’s notes are too young for
your lord, and your lord is too old for today’s notes. And we began a little late
today, consequently we want to postpone the best until tomorrow.
Disc. And I also notice now how hungry mental work can make one. My lord
will be quite pleased. Tomorrow morning I will be here again punctually. In
the meantime, I bid you farewell.
[23] Concerning Metric Order31 in Particular

Disc. Good morning! My lord does not send his greetings. He also would not
have me come to you any more, had my cousin, the Gracious Lord Gatekeep-
er, not insisted upon it strongly. Yesterday I already composed fifty minuets,
most of them in the tones of D, E, F, G, A, B-flat, and very few in C. In doing
so, I became aware that one must proceed in each key according to its par-
ticular characteristics. For it is more difficult to make anything good out of E
major than in the other keys.
Prec. Not at all. It is all the same if one approaches it properly. What is more,
perhaps you wanted to say that you have composed in D32 with the major
third, in E with the major third, etc.
Disc. That goes without saying. For normally only the Trio is composed with
the minor third. But do you know what? My lord believes that anyone who
had a good musical nature does not need to understand what a twosome, a
threesome, etc., is.
31
<Rhythmopoeïa; noun not rarely seen among the ancient as well as modern writers.>
32
The Discantist said, “In the tones of D, E, F, etc.,” But the word tone means something else,
namely from C to D is a tone, that is, a whole tone, which can be further classed as to large or
small. From D to E is a also tone. From E to F is a half tone, etc. Rather he should have said,
“in the key (in modis) of D, E, F,” etc. For it has long been the custom to say that D (i.e., with
the major third) is lively, E flat (I never say D sharp), on the contrary, is a sad key, etc. But I
will let the discantist speak according to his custom.
42
Prec. I believe, however, that a sharp knife cuts better than a blunt one. A musi-
cal nature is part of it, to be sure. But I notice that your lord does not even know
what composition is. If I could only have the chance to look through some of
his work in instrumental music. I know well that in vocal music an awkward
text can help justify some of the disorder of an inexperienced pedant. Or he can
have in hand a completely unmetrical text, which otherwise serves for nothing
other than for fugues and other similar things and for suspensions.
Disc. You must not become angry. For after I, in his presence, quickly set
down a dozen minuets one after the other and analyzed some others, he im-
mediately grew silent. All the rest of what he said I will tell you today by and
by. You will be surprised.
Prec. Listen. Now we will dismiss the twosome together with the contempt-
ible material of the minuet.
Disc. That would truly make me sorry.
Prec. For four, eight, sixteen, and even thirty-two measures are those which
are so deeply ingrained in our nature that it seems difficult to us to listen
(with delight) to another structure. And I say that two successive two-
somes are nothing other than a foursome.
Disc. But isn’t such a foursome in this way really divided into two halves?
Prec. Only because of notes or rests, but in no way according to its internal
essence. For as soon as it is divided up accidentally, the melody is unclear. I
will show that with two examples, as follows:
Disc. One certainly notices that. For the latter divided foursome seems, so to
speak, not to be at peace with itself.
43
Prec. In spite of that, you will learn to understand, in the future, that even
this last example would be tolerable, in the long run, as an idea33 crafted with
forethought, insofar as it was well carried out. If I had time, I would prove
it to you. In this way you can examine all compositions that have been com-
posed by discantists, and also by the likes of me, as well as by great masters,
and those as yet to be composed. In doing so, you will see, for the most part,
foursomes or the latter multiplied by two, three, and more.
Disc. Thus my lord was right. For this foursquare arrangement can be help-
ful to a discantist or an unusually bad composer no differently than to a good
natural [talent]. [24]
Prec. There is truth in that. And yet your lord is only a little bit correct. For
after you have absorbed this chapter, then examine his compositions at home.
I think back and am almost sure that you will encounter more than enough of-
fensive blunders, no matter how harmonious his natural [talent] may be. We
would rather use four foursomes or sixteen measures, e.g.
Disc. Now I finally understand why sixteen measures are required in a minu-
et, namely because this structure is already fixed within our nature.
Prec. Now I will compose an initial tutti,34 as for a concerto, with thirty-two measures:
33
Inventio. One must always seek new things and, at the same time, combine with the old
things; otherwise the melody is either too common or too strange.
34
In a concerto, an aria, etc., there are also tuttis in the middle and at the end. I will use the word
tutti, as distinct from solo (alone), often instead of theme, preamble, prelude, etc. The word
ritornello from ritornare (to come back) takes its origin from the old arias, whose melody was
first played by instruments, then sung to a stanza, then again played by instruments, and so on,
one after another. Such alternations are nowadays only occasionally heard in beer and wine-
hall songs. For the modern sort, one uses the words da capo (from the beginning) or, if not
begun completely from the beginning, the words dal segno (from the sign), the sign of which
is often this % or something else, according to each one’s whim, Sin or sin al segno, or also al
segno (to the sign) alone, which looks either like this 4 or like this 3, which signals the end or
finale of the aria. However, I consider it unnecessary to write explicitly this sign or al segno,
because the sign 3 is sufficient if no other circumstances arise.
44
Half of this—let us say, the last sixteen measures—might also have been
written (according to tonal order) thus:
Or Θ.
Disc. Very well. But can these four, eight, sixteen, and thirty-two measures
also be properly arranged in 2/4 time and in common or 4/4 meter?
Prec. Without any doubt. Metric order must remain metric order. Look, I will
transform the first two examples into 2/4 meter for you: [25]
45
and the second example with sixteen measures
Disc. But listen! If I write this example in common, or 4/4, time, only eight
measures result, e.g.’
Prec. You must not do it that way, but rather you should count in common time
always as if it were 2/4 time,35 otherwise you will become more confused than
clever thereby, which you must take to heart as well as if your lord himself
had said it. I will, therefore, rewrite, for greater clarity, the last example of 3/4
time36 with its thirty-two measures translated into common time,37 as follows:
35
Time in German is Zeit, for a measure of 4/4 lasts a longer time than a measure of 2/4. Ex-
cept, of course, if for amusement somebody were to write a 2/4 in Largo and a common time
in Presto.
36
To this meter a few people still add the word triple, and say: “3/4 triple,” perhaps in distinc-
tion to 3/8 or 3/2 triple or meter. I have heard a few others even say, “2/4 triple,” which is as
tasteless as when one calls tempo ordinario a bad meter, as if it were not as good as the others.
37
Tempo ordinario.
46
[26]
This tutti, or opening theme, certainly consists of thirty-two measures, al-
though I have only counted eight measures from one segment of the melody
to another. Moreover, each group of eight measures is just as clearly distin-
guished from every other group of eight measures by means of the comma
or cadence, as can be seen and heard here. Otherwise one would often have
to count a hundred or more measures in succession in a concerto, etc., which
certainly would be called an irritating clumsiness.
Disc. My lord has certainly not entrusted me with this knowledge, for he is
stingy in such things. But could I not just as readily count thirty-two mea-
sures as eight foursomes instead of four eightsomes?
Prec. Of course. That would be even easier. And I would have thought that
your hearing could readily distinguish the foursomes without much counting.
Disc. Had I but known that. Now I will try three foursomes in succession,
or twelve measures, in spite of the fact that they, according to your teaching,
have no such orderly place within our bodies as do eight, sixteen, and thirty-
two measures.
47
It is true, the penultimate foursome seems exactly as if it had been inserted by

force. It would sound better if such a thing were just left out. Ought one then
never to write these threefold structures?
Prec. Why not? As often as you please in Θ. For a foursome in and of itself is
accepted as satisfying the hearing. And one sees twelve measures even more
often in the following way:
Disc. Don’t be impatient. To me the first two foursomes seem to be a cob-

bler’s patch.
Prec. But I told you yesterday that, since only two twosomes are like the
aforesaid little melody, one occasionally finds two rising foursomes of this
kind even in the compositions of famous masters. You can change them or
weed them out, as far as I am concerned. They do strike me as not so bad.
Disc. In fact, this example already pleases me better than mine, and I do not
know why.
Prec. Because here the middle, or next-to-last, foursome seems to be nothing

other than a repetition. I will show you a still clearer repetition, however, e.g.
48
[27] In short, I permit you, in addition to the best structure previously de-
scribed, at any point in time also to set out twelve, twenty, and twenty-four
measures in succession and to group together eight of them, or (what is even
easier), four. Whatever is lengthened by means of repetition in no way
impedes good structuring but rather promotes it and even makes three-
somes, fivesomes, sevensomes, and ninesomes pleasing thereby.
Disc. Wait. I must show you something of my lord’s, which I saw the other
day at his residence. I don’t completely understand it.
Prec. And your lord had the nerve to say that a good natural [talent] alone is
enough and could make up for everything? Believe me, I would rather listen
to a billy-goat than such disorder.
Disc. But he has composed several thousand pieces of music during his life-
time.
Prec. And perhaps only several million errors.
Disc. I myself would have rather written it as follows:
49
Prec. This is scarcely a whit better. For, with ten measures, one-half of a four-
some is still left over.
Disc. Thus I will try three foursomes, or twelve measures, always counting
four of them together, e.g.
Prec. That works. However, an eightsome38 would be more natural, clearer,

and, consequently, far better, e.g.
Disc. In fact, I feel instinctively that it seems much easier to me with these
eightsomes. I believe that my lord wrote this melody only because it alternates
nicely with the bass, which, as far as I can remember, sounds about like this:
Prec. (Astonishing rarity!) From time to time one can do something pleasing
with the bass. But the listener concerns himself little with it. He notices only
the melody,39 and therefore it is never advisable to transgress blindly against
that order.
38
Octonarius.
39
That means, here, the upper or most prominent voice.
50
Disc. I cannot understand my lord. For my wife, the school mistress, praises
him to the heavens when she is in the company of the other womenfolk. She
is so skillful at praising him and so good at cutting other composers down to
size that one must believe that he could have no equal.
Prec. That reveals a dutiful loyalty. Such a man is lucky and needs only to
understand half as much as an unmarried man. [28]
Disc. I recently did not hear everything but only the following: “Foolish
woman,” he said to her, “you know nothing about what belongs to music. The
spirit within me wanes with time, falls from the flesh, and becomes indolent
and clumsy. It is really painful when a new scribbler arrives and with his live-
ly and fleeting ideas, which strive only for novelty, pleases better than one
of us. I will live scarcely more than fifteen or sixteen years longer anyway.
Afterward, as far as I am concerned, dear music can go up, over, or under.”
Prec. Your lord is more than too careful. If I knew that you understood well
the four, eight, sixteen, and thirty-two measures, which are the most complete
of all, and at the same time were able to rely on your hearing, I would not
begrudge the twosomes a small place now and then.
Disc. I would like that very much. But how?
Prec. Look, I invite you to point out all those twosomes that we identified
yesterday in the minuet. Just look at the examples.
51
Example 107, cont.
And in 2/4/, alla breve, or common meter, the same.
Disc. I would rather secretly count a foursome instead of two twosomes, in

order to have nothing but foursomes. Otherwise I could occasionally become
easily confused.
Prec. You do well, for I also do it that way. Nevertheless, often in a melody a
twosome is cut out of a foursome, separated, and almost swallowed. The left-
over twosome, or former friend, can certainly not be considered a foursome,
as I will furthermore show you in an example. Herewith, I must confide in
you that I have seen, not long ago, a single twosome, in a NB good composi-
tion, and to be sure right at the beginning, e.g.
[29]
Disc. Is it good, then?
Prec. Certainly. For the connoisseur, it is something exquisite. You will, how-
ever, hopefully notice that the twosome is, as it were, improved by a succeed-
ing foursome, because the last two measures of the foursome are a repetition
of the entire twosome “✠”. Look:
52
Only the last bar may be similar to ✠:
Both examples in common time:
You can supply the 2/4 and alla breve time versions yourself at your leisure.
Disc. Yes indeed. But if a twosome can come before, then can it also not be
forbidden if it comes after? For example:
Prec. It is certainly not forbidden. You are very cleaver. These good observa-
tions would not have occurred to me. And if the said twosome were set piano
it could imitate a regular echo.40
Disc. That also would not have occurred to me. Furthermore, the former two-
40
Echo. It is seldom composed this way, because this imitation is either too young or too old.
53
some sounds as forced to me as the latter. I know well that they can be used,
as charming as they may be, as a sweet clause in the middle of a melody. But
in my case, for instance, I have scarcely used them once in two years; with
Tempo Presto or Allegro perhaps never in all my life. So what good are two-
somes? The melody would be complete even without them, e.g.
Prec. I myself would not condone the following way, where the foursome has
no similarity at all with the twosome, e.g.
Disc. I believe that they are notes completely without sense or understanding.
Prec. But why do you linger so long over the previously explained twosomes?
I have actually very often seen them in the works of one or another master,
NB inserted as one single measure or repeated ✠, e.g.
[30]
And this is found now at the beginning, now in the middle, or at the end.
Briefly in Θ.
Disc. Forgive me! If perhaps an unrhymed text to an aria, etc., now and then
requires it, a sensible discantist would certainly always make use of these
rare beauties.
Prec. Do not be so amazed. In time you will discover still other beautiful
54
rarities in composition, and you will learn to invent some of your own. These
days everything is sought: crooked and straight, young and old, even ugly
songs. It requires for the most part only good execution.
Disc. I believe it, if in the first place, one understands all the thousands upon
thousands of things that are basic to good execution. With the expressions
young and old you have reminded me of an old author. It is the Musurgia by
A. Kircher. My lord extols him greatly and wishes that I should soon learn
Latin in order to be able to read it myself.
Prec. You lord probably found as little in it as I did.
Disc. That could easily be. In Urbsstadt they have been reading it for four
years, and they have not yet composed a thing.
Prec. Such books can do no harm to people who have nothing else to do with
their time. For indolence is the beginning of all vice. He41 was a very famous
mathematician in his time. If he had understood composition he would surely
have been of great service to the musical world. He certainly was not lacking
in his desire to succeed. I have paged through his writing, and have at last
found one page after all42 that could be of use to us in our undertaking.
Disc. He would surely have understood what, for example, a threesome is.
Prec. No. But I will tell you this. Take heed, a threesome remains completely
improbable and extraordinary to our hearing because of its odd number of
measures. It reminds me of a man about whom it is said that he has had
a drop too much to drink. In the same way he seems to be shrill, excep-
tional, friendly, and playful. He must, however, always be accompanied by
his friends. Those two threesomes can thus be considered a sixsome at one’s
discretion, e.g.43
41
<Kircher of immortal name.>
42
<Great in art.>
43
Senarius.
55
Disc. Now I am finally wise to this. I know by ear all the German dances
that are played at our beer hall. When one of them comes along that uses two
foursomes, the people are quite merry, even if still a bit serious. However, as
soon as they hear two threesomes they all begin to jump up as if they were
insane. I will now quickly set down a few of them in triple as well as in duple
meter, e.g.
Prec. No, stop! How can you participate in such bedlam?
Disc. Well, I must often go with my lord. There he treats me to either a mug
of beer or a glass of brandy.
Prec. (Still better.)44 Such a godless schoolmaster? You must not ever believe
that threesomes belong only in there. One can utilize them for a better pur-
pose. For two threesomes can be placed at the beginning of a musical piece,
but they must be directly followed by a foursome in order to conceal their
unnatural character and to make them bearable to the ear, e.g.
[31]which foursome can also possibly be repeated, I suppose, because the

preceding sixsome, divided into two threesomes, is strong enough to balance
the weight of two foursomes. You will see it in sundry compositions.
Disc. That is good. Furthermore I have already wished to begin to consider

such sixsomes as merely bloated foursomes. Wait, I myself will translate this
example into common time, and I will repeat the foursome after the sixsome,
because it is arbitrary, as follows:
44
<A young one learns to plow over an older one.>
56
In 2/4 time it is any way so comprehensible and easy that it is not worth the
trouble to dip the quill for it. Go on now!
Prec. Two threesomes can also be inserted ✠ in the middle as a clause, e.g.
I will translate for you only the single clause into common and alla breve
time, in order not to ramble on.
Disc. Because I understand very well when, where, and how often a split six-
some can be used, superfluously may I be allowed to ask whether one cannot
at times even place three threesomes in a series?
Prec. In my opinion, rather four than three. For a threesome yields an uneven
number of measures; three threesomes are likewise an uneven number. Fur-
thermore the unevenness is redoubled and, without a doubt, objectionable. I
have also, as far as my limited knowledge extends, scarcely ever seen a single
such example in the works of the best masters. I must tell you that two years
57
ago I heard an aria that was full of threesomes throughout (except for the
[segments ending with] cadences and a few [ending with] commas), and yet
it was highly praised by music connoisseurs.
Disc. I would be very eager to know whether perhaps the text led the said
master to do that, or whether he composed it completely on his own initiative.
Prec. I would believe one [explanation] as readily as the other. I will set down
briefly some measures of the voice part. You must, however, imagine that
there was text under it:
Disc. A pleasing vocal melody may, perhaps, be able to smooth out and to
sweeten such unevenness, but with instrumental music, I believe, one would
be much wiser to refrain from such a thing.
Prec. That does not follow. Only last week I heard a symphony with three-
somes almost everywhere, and even in 2/4 time, e.g.
58
Disc. That seems to sound quite weak. The foursome actually makes it more
bad than good, since otherwise one could think of it as in a regular triple me-
ter, e.g. [33]
Prec. Except then it would only be something commonplace and not at all
peculiarly singular.
Disc. But it would be enough if I came forward with such a desperate singu-
larity just once in an entire year. I will certainly never again allow myself for
forsake the foursome!
Prec. You are right. Nevertheless I will hopefully be allowed to explain to you
what I have occasionally heard by good masters.
59
Disc. And what else?
Prec. The last Allegro in 3/8 of this symphony did, in fact, begin with regular
foursomes, but soon after one also heard a boisterous passage “✠”45 with
threesomes, e.g.
Disc. Now I remember having heard, not long ago, in a 3/8 Allegro, even a
closing46 with such threesomes, e.g.
45
Passaggio.
46
Cadence.
60
[34] the thus-lengthened closing of which previously was heard in G with the
same formulation.
Prec. I know that anyway. But were the beginning and the remainder carried
out with regular foursomes?
Disc. Beyond all doubt. Because I liked everything very well, only with the
exception of the single threesome of the above-marked closing, which I be-
lieved to be composed by a beginner.
Prec. You believed too much or too little, for that which a discantist threw to-
gether can be distinguished, even at a distance, from that which a master with
foresight and knowledge produced, as easily as the color black from white.
Disc. That would say a great deal. I just recalled something I already wanted
to ask about a half hour ago, namely How would it be if one or two foursomes
were placed at the beginning and then followed with a threesome, e.g.?
Prec. You have already heard that one threesome alone is of no use.
Disc. I admit that. It does not even sound good. Only now I want to set aside
instrumental music. What if, for example, a text were set to an aria precisely
so that one could not do otherwise [than use a threesome]?
Prec. Then one must try to follow them up immediately with foursomes.
Disc. I know that, namely, in order to make it better.
Prec. Or repeat the text as well as the threesome. I will simply give you such
a case with the following forthright words, namely, Wenn ich alles rechnen
wollte, was ich von dir haben sollte, und auch fodern könnte [“If I wanted to
calculate everything that I should have from you and also could ask”].
61
One must be careful to be sparing with repetitions of text47 or words48 that do

not mean or express something special.
Disc. Inasmuch as the threesome stood at the beginning, e.g.
Prec. Then one is constrained to let it stand.
Disc. But I thought the text, itself, could sometimes be elevated by means of
repetition.
Prec. That is an exceedingly beautiful and always useful consideration.
Disc. I mean thus:
Prec. I understand you well. Except with the words wenn ich haben wollte, I
can, nevertheless, see no reason for repetition.
Disc. Of course. The repetition here suggests a threat to him who owes the
debt, so to speak.
Which means an entire speech, that is oratory.

47
Which is considered one of these in particular, that is, grammatically. No matter that, a choir-
48
boy seldom knows the difference between them.
62
Prec. This reason is far too weak, and so obscure that I myself could never have
thought of it. [35] But to please you, I will let it stand. Because, accordingly,
every text can be set in duple as well as in triple meter, you could also have
set it as follows:
In 2/4 or in alla breve time, these two threesomes would appear even more
clearly, as you already know.
Disc. Many a text is, however, much better suited to triple than duple meter, as
I have already often observed. And also the reverse. Furthermore, the notes:
may be tolerated fairly well in an aria in which the

tempo is not too fast. Furthermore, I once heard my
lord say that such hurriedly speaking notes would be
better suited to a recitative than to a regular melody,
unless one wanted to express excitement, rage, or
another similar furious passions with it.
Prec. Your lord is right. However, if I exclude the passions, the following,
with leaps and movement, are even worse, e.g.
Therefore, I will treat this material more extensively another time. Now it
occurs to me, much to my annoyance, that I have forgotten to add the Θ
already thirty or forty times.
Disc. Oh, of what use is it? It is common sense anyway. Look, I consider all
the examples that we have written up to now as I consider in particular the
branch with apples that my dear mother brought home from our neighboring
orchard and gave me five years ago. The next day I sought out the other
branches myself and got to know the boughs at the same time. The third,
fourth, and fifth day I acquired the ability to climb up the trees, and in the end
I had so much fruit to haul away that the whole garden was now too small for
63
me. The only difference was that my dear father took a rod to me for eight
days in a row. You, on the other hand, enjoy it if I make a thousand variations
on each given example.
Prec. The difference is also that the garden soon became too small for you,
whereas in composition you always find something to pluck, even if you
were to live a thousand years.
Disc. Therefore we have little time to lose. Now explain the fivesomes to me,
considering that the foursomes obviously stand at the head of the order.
Prec. A single fivesome49 is even more distasteful than a single threesome. I

will thus show you two successive fivesomes, e.g.
In common or in 2/4 time:
Everything that was said above concerning threesomes is to be remembered

here, and to be observed even more strictly.
[36]
Disc. I understand. But a sixsome divided into two threesomes pleases me far
better than two fivesomes.
49
Quinarius.
64
Prec. Me too. Additionally, two successive sixsomes can also be inserted in

an Allegro of a symphony, e.g., as a playful clause, “✠,” e.g.
And thus Θ in consideration of the orchard.
Disc. Now I understand well that two such sixsomes are playful in their own
right. Only you could have made the notes even more comical, and, at the
same time, because it is capricious, you could have marked them piano, e.g.
Prec. That is an incomparable segment for those who like that sort of thing.
Two undivided sixsomes, however, would sound much worse than two
fivesomes because of their excessive length, e.g.
65
Disc. That sounds terrible.
Prec. A single undivided sixsome in the middle of a melody is occasionally

heard either with running or other continuous [sequential] passages and
movements, e.g.
[37] and so on in other ways.
Disc. And even if it were a thousand other ways, I would rather have made an
eightsome out of this sixsome, as follows:
66
Prec. However, I have a small hope that, in time, you will occasionally also
include the sixsomes. The remaining two are another matter entirely. A
sevensome50 sounds just a bad as a ninesome.51
Disc. I believe it without wanting to see it in an example.
Prec. And nevertheless I have a symphony in my trunk in which a repeated

ninesome is to be seen, as a clause ✠. The author of the symphony, however,
has divided the ninesome into a fivesome plus a foursome. I will set down
only a few measures of it, e.g.
Afterward, he continues forte with foursquare structure until, at last, he

once again presents the clause in C just before the closing. Last Monday,
as I was trying out this symphony, this piano unexpectedly put me into a
state of pleasant confusion, as it were, so that I could readily perceive neither
fivesomes, foursomes, nor ninesomes. I think, then, that the foursome can as
easily stand before as after the fivesome, e.g.
Septenarius
50
Novenarius
51
67
[38] Or perhaps a sevensome divided in such a manner must be recognized as

no less good, e.g.
or reversed, that is, starting with the foursome:
Now look what repetition can do! It can occasionally provide not only
threesomes and fivesomes but even sevensomes and ninesomes a little trip
to the uncharted land52 of musical delights, since otherwise these must be
excluded and banished to misfortune forever.
Disc. The twosome certainly must not remain confined with its partner to
beer-hall minuets. I believe it also can, in the foregoing manner, go strolling
with the threesome a couple of times, e.g.
Or turned around:
52
Where namely a land surveyor (as land surveyor) has not been able to reach. WJR must know
that, as our St. Beuchel once avowed.
68
Prec. To my ears that sounds very stilted and, hence, too immature; I will not
say much too simplistic. For that sort of repeated fivesome is much too short
for the twosomes or threesomes to be clear or comprehensible to the ear. To
be sure, one encounters, in the compositions of famous masters, a few (but
not many) alternating motions that run practically counter to good order.
But I believe that it happens only in order to make the melody from time
to time more flowing.
Disc. But could one such as me be excused for his disorder for this reason?
Prec. No, I say again. For one knows the bird immediately by its feathers. I
really cannot yet tell whether it happens on purpose that some composers,
either to confuse the ear a little or to disguise their good order from beginners
in composition, begin with running notes before the singing [notes] have
reached their end, e.g
[39] Thousands and thousands of similar and even more cunning passages53
are seen often both in some German as well as Italian concertos, etc., and
even more often in a certain pieces54 so swollen with this that one does not
know what to pick out, nor can one decide whether it was written by a master
or cobbled together by a discantist.
Disc. Masters here, masters there. The foregoing example did not please
me, flow though it may. I would have rather separated the running from the
singing notes by means of a comma in the forth measure, e.g.
53
<Which do not make sense.>
54
Musical [pieces].
69
In short: henceforth for certain no one will trick me. To all pieces of music in
which such disorder appears, I will pay less attention than to straw and chaff,
by whomever they may be.
Prec. You must not be so rash. You can often learn far more from badly
composed things than from good ones.55 Find out where the errors are, and
engage yourself in correcting your own. You do not even know yet that one
often cuts out a twosome without confusing the structure thereby.
Disc. Why not? I will compose such an example for you at once. Look:
Prec. That is quite a quibbling solution; indeed, it is almost too strange. By

this means I can conclude that you have well grasped everything that I have
said up until now concerning metric order. However, my remark was not
about two but only about one single twosome, and not about splitting apart
but about cutting it out.
Disc. Now I know that you are going to explain the tensome to me.
Prec. No. Let us leave off at the number 9. For a tensome56 is always more
easily regarded as two foursomes and a left-over twosome because of its
excessive length. Thus, before I offer you my opinion I want to distinguish the
rhythms one from the other a bit for you. Your lord may laugh, for all I care,
55
By means of the misadventures of other people one becomes wise, wherefore we earthly hu-
man beings can never thank others enough, as long as ill intent does not prevail.
56
Denarius.
70
if I call them singing [Singer], running [Laufer], boisterous [Rauscher],57

leaping [Springer], etc., e.g.
And although the singing notes might borrow a few measures from the running
[notes], or the running from the boisterous,etc., they are still easily distin-
guished, e.g.,
[40] even though they can be composed mixed together and exchanged in
innumerable ways, just as running and leaping in concertos, etc., could be
composed a thousand times more often than [simple] boisterous notes. We,
however, prefer to remain with the first four distinct types. Have you understood?
Disc. Yes, indeed.
Prec. Now consider an example without cutting out the twosome, at ✠:
57
These are called “distress notes” by some wags, because they help some second-year dis-
cantists to draw out or prolong a melody poorly. Able composers, however, know very well
how to use them.
71
Now I will cut out the twosome:
And thus it is that an undivided sixsome can, in the end, be tolerated in the
middle of a continuous melody. Hopefully you noticed the six measures of
the second singing [passage] before the running [notes], e.g.
Disc. Heavens! What do you doubt about it?
Prec. A twosome is also separated out when a boisterous passage follows a

running passage, or, in a word, whenever there is a noticeable change within
these foursomes.
Disc. Could you not give me some reason why such an arrangement is to be
tolerated?
Prec. Certainly. Because it makes possible new variations, that is, because
of the carefree and lively running notes, the listener forgets all the foregoing
measures and notes, including the occasional poor structure.
Disc. As long as the singing notes come after the running or the boisterous
notes, e.g.
72
Prec. Then the listener would give his attention to the lovely singing notes
and would let go of the boisterous or running notes, etc., in all the above
examples.
Disc. In other words, he would bear on both shoulders. I have come to believe it.
Prec. Frequently three or more different singing passages follow one another,
where, thereafter, a twosome could also be cut out. Which is also, NB, to be
understood concerning the boisterous, running, and leaping passages. Only
I must finally admit to you that in real compositions this cutting out of a
twosome is not heard very often, yet not as seldom as the fivesome, sixsome,
and ninesome.
Disc. I have long since imagined as much. Thus I certainly will never distance
myself as much from the foursome as from my flatterers.
Prec. Now look! As good as a foursome is, it is just as good, NB, to cut [out]
a single measure from it.
Disc. (Once again something new!) Perhaps this is what I saw in a symphony
that my lord composed fourteen days ago. Just consider that a measure ✠ is
cut out already at the beginning, e.g. [41]
It continued, then, with boisterous and running notes until the end.
Prec. That has nothing to do with the matter. However, the place marked with
the ✠ is no cut, but is such a big chop that even a drayman58 would have to
hold his ears.
58
I do not mean a log hauler but a wine hauler, called a Faßzieber in Austria. I know one of
them who blows the oboe with a piercing tone.
73
Disc. I almost caught that. Perhaps my lord could have repeated a measure
at the ✠ in order to complete the second foursome, e.g.
Because then the foursomes that follow would likewise have a good
structure, for I believe it is better, e.g.
than when it is divided (in common time), e.g.
Prec. You are completely correct in everything. I am pleased with your

good ear and sharp insight. Only a single measure, as I have mentioned,
is usually cut out at a cadence, or rather it is cut out after the cadence is
already closed. Just imagine that the following is an aria, for which I have
left out the second violin, viola, and bass for the sake of brevity, e.g. [42]
74
59
Disc. This aria would be good for dwarfs, for it has everything pretty tightly
packed together.
Prec. That is beside the point. I know a good many composers who do not
know how to be brief. Here it was done only to show you how the sixteenth
measure, or the final note ✠ of the canto solo, is suppressed by the forte or
middle tutti.
Disc. I see it and have seen it also in all the opera arias that my lord has at
home. But the forte could surely begin one measure later in order not to
distort the structure of the vocal line, e.g.
59
Instead of this word tutti, we will use the word forte more often.
75
Prec. That would turn out exactly as if a poor man in the street first played it
on his fiddle then sang it, etc. We would rather bury this disturbed structure
with one or another old cricket singer.
Disc. If this is not enough, then the vocal part could avenge the forte and
begin to scream in its last measure ✠ , e.g. [43]
Prec. No. That does not work either, because the voice is much too weak for
it: one would not hear it. It knows better than you that it must be distinct from
the forte or tutti in order to be able to begin clearly.
Disc. If this cannot, then, be properly done at the end of the first forte, perhaps
it could sometimes happen somewhere in the middle at ✠, e.g.:
76
Prec. In arias, this sort of thing, that is, in the middle, is seen very rarely; in
concertos more often.
Disc. I least trust myself to try it in a very lively or fast-paced aria. For each
one of us must come to understand for himself what, when, where, how, why,
and how often. In the meantime, I still do not know whether one is permitted
also to cut out single measures in concertos, etc., in the manner described here.
Prec. Can you have any doubt of it? I have already heard, with my own ears,
a thousand times, that one should at all possible times make every effort to
imitate with instruments (insofar as nature allows it) certainly not every
infantryman’s song, but rather all well-composed and aria-like songs or
vocal music, and even to improve upon them. For even if good instrumental
music (it is said) were five times more advanced [than vocal music], it must,
unfortunately, nevertheless remain, in general, a couple of degrees behind.
Disc. Now I know it. Some time ago there was, in Urbsstadt, a splendid
musical performance in which beautiful violin, flute, and oboe concertos by
foreign masters were heard. At the end I had to sing a cantata composed by
my lord. I assure you that it pleased the listeners (most of whom were learned
noble connoisseurs) far more than all the concertos. My lord was, for that
reason, equally acknowledged as a world-famous composer. My greatest joy,
since then, would be to compose for the church.
Prec. That would be mine, too. But your useless prattle is holding me up.
Imagine that the next few measures are a solo for the violino principale in
the middle of a concerto. I want to see whether you have well understood the
process of cutting out, e.g. [44]
77
Disc. Certainly I understand it well. The forte snatches away a half measure
from under the nose of the solo, so to speak. The listener must necessarily
be pleased by it, because for the ear it is as if it were in 2/4 time. It does not
please me, however, because according to the bar line, not only the forte but
also the following solo is brought into disorder. I would then rather allow the
solo its own and complete structure, e.g.
78
Example 165, cont.
[45]
or I would have omitted the quarter rest after the final note of the cadence and
would rather have replaced it with a half measure60 ✠, e.g.
Prec. Neither the one nor the other pleases me. For such a final note, with or
without a rest, must wait forlornly until the forte begins, which you should
have noticed, just previously, after the short introduction in the aria.
Disc. But I have seen it before, in this way, in works of one or more famous
old masters. Hopefully it must have happened for the sake of good order.
Prec. If you want to imitate some old master, you might as well lie sleeping
with him, too. I often have to laugh when some beginners imitate such dead
and rusty cadences in their concertos and do not know why, but rather show
from beginning to end that they have not the slightest conception of metric
order. Over time you will see your own marvels.
Disc. But what is to be done about it?
It is better to say “half note,” since, in 2/4 time, such a half note cannot be called a half
60
measure.
79
Prec. If need be, the cadence can very well be repeated ✠, e.g.
or if that seems too abrupt for you in this manner, then something can be in-
serted, e.g.
and this in a thousand ways, namely Θ. For if you want to make it still longer,
it could also go something like this:
Or one could omit all this and disrupt the structure a little bit, for a while
before the cadence, by means of a small repetition ✠, for the sake of the forte,
if one wishes, e.g.
80
[46]
Disc. It pleases me singularly that one can bring and force any forte upon the
downbeat of the measure in such a manner.
Prec. That can be observed also in 6/4, 6/8, and 12/8 meters.
Disc. I know that already, for in 2/4, 3/4, 3/8, and alla breve meters one always
has a bar line to mark the downbeat, so that it causes no difficulty at all if only
everything else is in order. The aforementioned fly-catchers need only take
for themselves good opera arias as models and try, accordingly, to eliminate
their rusty cadences in the manner described here.
Prec. Be still! We have much more to find among our own errors. One needs
at all times a more generous helping of thinking than of talking.61 Moreover,
I tend to use the aforesaid cadences now and then, or rather as often as the
circumstances warrant, so I begin the forte quite often at the last half measure
✠ in order not to offend the ear, e.g.
Disc. As far as I am concerned, you may say and compose what you will. I,
on the other hand, will brood over everything. Look, at your forte my ear is
really lead astray, e.g.
Either you must admit that a twosome is left over here, or you must
acknowledge that there is one too few.
Prec. You are right; I have to admit it. It is just that I merely wrote it in haste.
Perhaps such a structure could still be bearable in a piece of village wedding
music.
Disc. That is really a barren excuse. I would rather increase it by a twosome, e.g.
61
Hopefully I will not be faulted as the discantist is if I give myself some latitude in this regard.
81
Prec. It really cannot hurt to attend to everything with diligence.
Disc. Enough. Now I trust myself to introduce in a good manner all sorts of
singing, leaping, running, and boisterous notes at the downbeat of the measure
without offending the ear. Just look, in the meantime, at the following short
opening of a symphony:
[47]
Prec. Stop! That is really bad. It is certainly good that you remind me that we
have here a very tight knot to untie, of which perhaps twenty discantists know
nothing. For Allegro, Allegro assai, Presto, or Prestissimo can employ
a kind of alla-breve time, often almost throughout or in the middle of
the whole piece; and whoever has no good understanding of this can easily
confuse it with common time. Now you have fallen into the aforementioned
alla-breve style, starting at the singing notes, which is no error; but the
cadence [segment] is offensive, because it is too brief. You will hear it in just
82
a moment. I will write it out beginning with the singing notes in alla breve
time, namely with the cut “C,” e.g.
It should be thus, e.g.:
It should also be noted that the alla-breve style is counted the same as alla-
breve time itself.
Disc. If that is the case, then of course I notice that my cadence

[segment] was too brief. I will then lengthen it by some other means, e.g.
The structure of the foursome is there, and yet this cadence does not please
me.
Prec. I believe you, for that is a regular changeling of a cadence.
83
Disc. I beg you to tell me what it lacks.
Prec. It is lacking in that this cadence [segment] belongs to triple meter, e.g.
[48]
and in alla-breve time the final note must also always be placed on the
downbeat. Why didn’t you pay attention to my previous example?
Disc. All right, then; I will try it with my alla-breve style, e.g.
You are right. The four-square structure flows quite smoothly into the ear.
Prec. The cadence [segment], however, can also be made more lively, e.g.
Or on the contrary ✠ , e.g.:
84
which is really even more dead but nevertheless good because the bass can
frolic around in the meantime.
Disc. I grasp that all very well. From this I conclude that the final note in 2/4,
6/4, and 6/8 time must be placed likewise on the downbeat, e.g.
Prec. On the other hand, in common time or in 12/8 meter, it falls rather on
the upbeat,62 e.g
Many people put it this way: the cadence falls on the third quarter of the
measure.
Disc. Now I have finally caught you out. Do you no longer remember that, a
few minutes ago, we arranged the solo (NB in common time) so that the final
note, or the forte, came on the downbeat, e.g.?
[49]
and in all Θ.
62
In this respect, common and 12/8 time are in no way different: even though many a choir
master beats all of the quarter and eighth notes when he beats time with his paper scepter.
Otherwise, the single one would be two; the strong and weak beats are certainly as clear as
they are sufficient.
85
Prec. And if it were to be repeated a million times, it would yet never

occur otherwise than by chance.63 It is true that I said previously that, NB,
properly the final note must come on the upbeat [i.e., on the second half-note
in a common-time measure]. Because you have started to brood over it so
much, I will take this opportunity to tell you several more things. The elders
considered it an irresponsible transgression if this often-mentioned final
note, and likewise every comma ✠,64 were not to fall on the downbeat of the
measure in common and 12/8 meters. For that reason, they often preferred to
begin with the bass part all alone, e.g.
I will write it down in 12/8 without the bass, e.g.
Disc. At the beginning, the bass sounds exactly as if an old bear wanted to
be heard.
Prec. Only a few French contradancers still adhere to these old commas on
the first beat of the measure. These days one composes so that the upper
melody takes the lead, if no circumstances prevent it, e.g.
<By accident>.
63
Which they called a caesura (Ab- or Einschnitt). However, in the following chapter I will
64
make use of [the term] “comma” [Absatz] always, or I will distinguish the caesura from it.
86
and the second version in 12/8 is the same, e.g:
Disc. Certainly it is more skillful and clearer. Did the elders err with their
downbeat, therefore? [50]
Prec. They were not entirely wrong about that.65 I will offer the following
analogy. Traders from Masuria, who carry their trade in wagon oil66 to
Silesia, imagine that the following melody begins on the first beat of the
measure, thus, e.g.:
On the other hand, our vintners67 keep time with their feet as if it began in the
middle of the measure, e.g.
65
<Say only good things about those who are absent.>
66
”Wagon grease” is clearer.
67
Cultivators or workers in the vineyards.
87
Disc. Which of them is correct, however?
Prec. Both of them.
Disc. Thus it follows that each has it own particular nature.
Prec. Certainly not! This conclusion is as false as it is to say that the taste for
music is born into the Italians, since they, like us Germans, have been imbued
with it from the cradle68 by their nannies, etc.
Disc. That my well be. For from the beginning, the fearsome men of Panduria,
who unfortunately came to us in Monsberg during the last war, had quite vile
and wild melodies. After a while, however, having heard more and more
German songs sung, they also began gradually to change their taste a bit,
so that now, according to what my lord has heard, they are considered to be
regular virtuosos in their homeland.
Prec. That is saying a bit too much.69 On the other hand, you still know too
little about the alla-breve style.
Disc. I hope not. Look, I will write down the foregoing measures once again, e.g.
68
<With repeated singing.>
69
Virtuosus, virtuous, proper, etc. A very famous Italian writer of that time confessed (nelle
lettere critiche &c. Vol. 1, page 71) that those who earn their bread with music take this title
of virtuoso only in consideration of an unblameworthy way of life. Therefore it is wrong to
boast about it.
88
Example 191, cont.
And now I will form them into common time, e.g.
[51] If I wanted to bring in the final note with force at the beginning of the
measure, namely contrary to present-day usage, it could be done by means of
a little break, as was discussed earlier, e.g.
Or by just repeating the cadence without disorder, e.g.
And thus in a thousand similar ways. On the other hand, the following
cadence, which I heard in a foreign symphony in recent days, seems to me
really to be a changeling, e.g.
89
For according to my ear it should have been composed:
or, if needs be, also thus:
and so on in Θ.
Prec. As difficult as it was for me before, I am now all the more pleased,
because I notice that you have well grasped this tricky material. It is just as
if a weight had been lifted from my heart.
Disc. Ah, why should I suffer from it? Rather, I take great pleasure in it. In-
deed, I gulped down all the notes, so that I noticed not the least bit of hunger
yet today. Only I still cannot digest dead final notes in the alla-breve style,
e.g.
Prec. You could make it even more lively ✠ , e.g.
90
It could, however, be still different.
Disc. And how, then? [52]
Prec. Notice how beautifully the one flows into the other. Such a final note
can occasionally be cut out just as can a single measure in a concerto and in
an aria. I will make use of your symphonic opening, e.g.
Disc. I see immediately that the final note at the NB has been suppressed,
and, instead of it, the opening is repeated in G. May I to do this more often,
as long as no noticeable disorder arises from it?
91
Prec. As often as you like. Only as long (as you say) as no disorder arises on
account of the foregoing measures and notes, the listener will be pleased to
hear the opening of the symphony repeated.
Disc. About six weeks ago my lord troubled himself to compose a symphony
according to the current taste. I don’t know: the structure was either too
elevated or too strange for me. I will, with your permission, set down the
beginning of the first Allegro and mark throughout with the ✠ where I
believe there is something lacking, e.g.
[53]
Prec. Enough, enough. This arrangement is unfortunately much too strange.
Really, any farm boy who had a bit of harmony in his body by nature would
consider this melody to be a mere whimpering. Your lord shows, by means
of this single opening, that he knows just as little about tonal order as about
metric order, for all these notes and melodies:
belong much later. I want to say that your lord has put the cart before the horse.
Disc. Is there then also something special to notice with respect to tonal
order?
Prec. By all means. That is as important to composition as metric order, as

you will see in the following chapter.
92
Disc. So just tell me in brief how he should have composed this.
Prec. He should have brought the notes mentioned here, along with all of
those following, into the key of G, and he should have repeated them in C at
the end.
Disc. You have just now shed a bit of light. I will arrange his opening in a
more orderly fashion, continue it according to my manner, let the alla-breve
style be heard more often, and at the same time see if I have guessed your
observations about tonal order, e.g.
93
Example 203, cont.
94
[54]
In order to show you the connection, I have written three P’s, of which the
first one is placed at the beginning, e.g.

The second [idea] has only a little

similarity with the first one, e.g.
In the third [passage] I have inverted the notes, e.g. [55]
that were, right side up, like this, e.g.
and likewise in the second [passage]
Prec. The former are many times better than the latter.
Disc. Accordingly, I have placed three Qs as at the beginning:
In the second, the notes are inverted:
In the third merely varied:
Prec. Good. Yesterday, in fact, I said that inversions are always allowed, often
needed, and (as many believe) a nicety. Nevertheless, the melody can become
immature and clumsy through their overuse, if one forces them.
Disc. It is good for me to know that, as well. Now, at the [first] letter M I
notice that, in terms of tonal order, I have pivoted into [the key of] G and have
repeated the same passage in the key of C at the second M.
95
Prec. Very good.
Disc. I have marked the three N’s thus because in the middle, at least in the
bass, one can achieve a similarity with the other [passages], e.g.
At the mark ✠ I have made the forth measure invisible through repetition of
the beginning. At the recurrence, however, that has not been done because it
would be distasteful to hear the aforesaid repetition too often.
Prec. In fact, one hears them quite often in many symphonies. Beyond that I
have nothing further to say to you about it, except that, in playing the passage
that you have placed nearly at the end, e.g.,
a violinist certainly will not leap with the third finger over two strings, namely
from the C below to the A above, without stumbling a little. But since many
compositions contain several similar leaps, I will speak of that another time.
Disc. And I believed only that the single principal cadence [segment] was too
brief for the alla-breve style.
Prec. You certainly could have allowed some extra time in the usual manner
before the cadence.
Disc. Thus I will now elaborate the said theme throughout, in the usual
manner, e.g.
96
97
[56] I wanted to make it short and rather good. At the double PP I have
inverted the opening notes, because if I had wanted to imitate the beginning
exactly, they would have been set in the [other] octave and therefore too high,
namely as follows:
Prec. Good. The easier the better. In fact, I will say the more artistic. These
inordinately high notes would be a bit difficult for one or another half-violinist.
Disc. At the PPP I have brought in the aforementioned opening notes on

the upbeat of the measure, in order to create a bit of complication for the ear
through such a small confusion.
Prec. This intention is certainly good. It would have been just as good if you
had not inverted the notes at the second ✠, for without necessity and without
sufficient basis, one must not be too artful.
Disc. At letter M I wanted to bring back the opening but on the upbeat of the
measure, P, therefore, I repeated the cadence. I had to do this similarly at the
end in order not to destroy the unity of the whole Allegro.
Prec. In fact, I can have no greater pleasure than that you give such good
attention to such unity throughout. In the meanwhile, I could, in fact, reproach
you that the cadence [segment] belongs rather more to triple meter, just as it
is to be remembered in alla-breve style, e.g.:
[57] However, in the common style this is accepted as good by many people.
Disc. I hope so. For I would certainly have noticed if it offended the ear.
Indeed, I hope no less that I may appear to advantage before the world with
this Allegro, when the second violin, viola, and bass are set to it.
98
Prec. You are right. It would be quite a prize for your Monsberg, out in the
countryside. However, for the city it must be embellished with more foliage.
Disc. But I ventured to carry out this theme in two or three different ways and
to compose without losing sight of unity.
Prec. And I would venture it (with the help of tonal order) perhaps in twenty
ways. Just imagine what an experienced master would be able to do with it.
Concertos and arias, however, endure many more variations because of the
alternation between the tutti and the solo. I will give you a small likeness of
it in the third chapter.
Disc. Now I will show you some curious cadences by my lord. Now and then,
when he concludes a major repeated section in common time and the final
note ✠ comes on the downbeat, he places either rests or dead notes there, e.g.
Since this is often judged to be confusion in the music, he now cuts the
measure in half at such places, e.g.
Prec. This is really only a pair of red cents better than the first. He would do it
better, however, if he would set it in 2/4 instead of in common time, because
he does not know how to advise himself.
Disc. I will counsel him, if he accepts it from me. Now I remember an opening
with an upbeat, e.g.
Prec. In my opinion, the opening upbeat is generally not held in great respect.
For the melody, as it seems to me, can sound just as good, if not often perhaps
99
more serious and more expressive, without it. Tell me why it would not be
as good? e.g.
For the childish upbeat70 does not at all help to create a musical rhyme.
Disc. However, when the text of an aria makes it unavoidable to set it that
way?
Prec. I do not reject it entirely, neither in symphonies nor in concertos.

However, many discantists should not make a blind habit of it, but rather
should see when and where it can be put to good service.
Disc. However, after I have formulated the opening tutti, for example, of a
concerto once, must I continue in the same way in the second tutti, after the
solo? So that you understand me, imagine that the previous short opening
tutti has already passed, and I will write down the last measures of the solo
that followed it, e.g.
70
Prebeat would be a better expression here, specifically not confuse it with the upbeat and
the down beat of the measure [i.e., the movement of the hand up and down to the time of half
notes].
100
[58]
Prec. And even if it were stated a thousand times at the beginning, it is better
left out in the middle; there is really no harm in this, e.g.
Or if really necessary, it can also be thus:
so that, at least the final note does not have to lie dead. However, you already
know very well how it is to bring in the forte on the downbeat of a measure,
should you wish to do so.
Disc. Now a dead note truly occurs to me, namely with this fermata , e.g.
Prec. In cantatas or in arias, words such as Schwach (“weak”), Ohnmacht

(“swoon”), Sterben (“to die”), etc., are expressed by that means. With
instruments one must certainly imitate that in order to make the melody
similarly speechlike. However, if one hears such swooning in one single
symphony so often one could get sick of it. It would be enough to do it once
every two years.
Disc. Perhaps a whole rest ✠ would not please either, as I have recently
heard in a symphony, e.g.
101
which my lord calls a general pause, because all the voices, namely the
second violin, viola, a bass, are silent together.
Prec. Yes, it pleases me more than the swoon, if it, too, is not used often. For
such an unexpected general pause is good for attracting the attention of even
the hated listeners who talk and fight with one another during the music as
violently (I may not say, as reasonably) as the old women in the cow market.
Disc. Hereupon my lord immediately composed an Allegro in which this

general pause was brought in at the end, instead of a cadence, and an Andante
followed it. You do not need to know the beginning, but I remember the
concluding notes and measures by heart. Look at them, e.g. [59]
Example 226.
102
Example 226, cont.
Prec. This was a bold but, at the same time, agreeable shot by your lord.
Disc. I am at least glad that he didn’t miss the target. Nevertheless, I would
like to know whether such a general pause could also be used in arias or
cantatas.
Prec. Certainly, it has its origin there, after all. For they can be used after the
words Fried (“peace”), Still (“silent”), Aufhören (“stop”), Schweigen (“to
be quiet”), and so on, e.g.
Disc. But the chatterbox absolutely could not be silent.
Prec. Indeed! If more wives learned these general pauses well, their uncouth
husbands would not give them so many black eyes.
Disc. My wife could certainly make use of it, for she cannot be still for an
instant. Indeed, she stirs up trouble inside the house and outside. For this
very reason, my lord once composed an Allegro for her birthday, which he
called “La confusione.” I really don’t know what it is.
Prec. “La confusione” or “Imbroglio” means Verwirrung (“confusion”) in

German. It can arise from two kinds of meter, namely from triple and duple
meter, e.g.
103
You will hopefully notice that 2/4 time is inserted at the sign ✠, e.g.
[60] Or, if it begins in duple meter, e.g.
At the sign ✠ the 3/4 meter begins, e.g.
Disc. If that is it, I would venture to compose a thousand “confusions.”
Prec. Four years ago I composed a fugue in alla-breve time in which I brought
in such a triple meter. But because I inverted the theme in the middle and in
the end I even broke it, the triple meter is superfluous, and the fugue is so
artificial that I cannot stand to hear it any more.
Disc. Now, I understand interweaving, but not the “inverting” and “breaking.”
Prec. I will briefly set down just the theme:
104
71
70

72 71
It is to be resolved thus:
If the theme and each of the aforesaid alterations were well worked out, a
fugue could be made from it that would last a solid half day, which I will
prove to you partially when we deal with the fugue. Nevertheless, a confusion
(“La confusione”) can be made also by breaking up73 the notes, as follows:
it is explained
thus:
[61] This would be even more confusing, e.g.

and thus in all Θ.
71
Contrarium reversum.
72
I call it Syncope, “breaking into pieces” or “division.” Otherwise, syncopare means “push/
strike,” also, “to remove something from the middle.” Many discantists immediately write
syncope above it, even if they only break off one or two notes from the theme. On the other
hand, many others, when writing a fugue, will write the word fuga itself at the beginning,
themselves. They are right, for when a painter from Athens finished a painting he asked the
famous Apelles if it were still missing something; whereupon Apelles answered, “Otherwise
nothing but the name, so that one knows what it its.”
73
I should have written here “redoubling,” because the half notes in the middle are redoubled,
something that is distinct from ties. Here, however, [the half note] is divided into sixteenth
notes and eighth notes.
105
But what good are such passages?
Disc. Now I remember having seen a 3/8 measure mixed with half notes
throughout, e.g.
Prec. I know this old thing quite well. It is realized when played in the
following way:
In just this imbroglio is a Larghetto in 6/8 time, from which, accordingly, a

minuet can almost be played in the following way:
Realization as a minuet:
106
That is why the composer notated it in 6/8 and 3/4 at the same time. In the
last Allegretto, which is a short fugue, one sees this meter sign C●3/2, with
which he meant that the white, black, and dotted notes each have the same
value as the others, namely this:
I will set out only the beginning for two violins, e.g.
[62] which is realized:
Disc. But who could have guessed that? Such a confusione certainly stems
from a confused brain. Or else the composer must be very rich, for if the
bread is sliced as thinly for him as it is for me by my wife, then he would not
be able to think of the clock chime.
Prec. Be still then! Perhaps he did it with diligence. There was once a virtuoso
who boasted that he could play everything on his cello at first sight74 and, as
it were, blow it away. A composer who was present, along with others, could
no longer listen but asked him if he might play for him, the next day, just a
short and, in fact, such an easy solo in which no single note would be higher
than the fifth line. I will show you only the beginning of the first Allegro, e.g.
74
A prima vista. Latin: primo intuitu. One also likes to say, “from the page.”
107
Disc. Heavens! The whole solo seems more confused than a Hebrew map.
Prec. The note-eater got into the pepper right away. If he did not want to learn
the entire solo by memory beforehand, he would have to begin to realize it,
e.g.
Disc. It must have been a real delight to play a joke on the braggart.
Prec. However, it only serves those who first learn to recognize that shame is
quite different from honor only after they are dead.
Disc. Tell me just a bit more about the aforementioned confusione. Perhaps I
can make one up today or tomorrow.
Prec. By no means should you do that! Otherwise you would be taken by

many people as more godless and senseless, than any shameless wind bag.75
But for the beginners who want to play in strict time, it would not be a bad
thing to intersperse divisions with rests, e.g.
75
<Believe the expert Rupert.>
108
[63]
If you know how long a dotted note is held, you can easily realize this
example by yourself.
Disc. I know that. A dot lasts half as long as the note to which it is attached,
e.g.
Is the same as this:
Prec. Good. That is why, some discantists are incorrect when they write the
following example:
merely in the
following way:
the last of which cannot be played correctly except as triplets, e.g.
109
or according to the
realization without dots:
Disc. The dot reminds me of the appoggiatura (Vorschlag), which likewise

takes half the value of the note that follows it, e.g.
which is thus realized and played:
Prec. This realization is correct. But you have forgotten something, namely
that if at the same time a dot is placed after the note, the appoggiatura eats up
the entire note so that only its dot is left over, e.g.
is realized
And for that reason those [musicians] come up too short who write the
appoggiatura so that one can immediately see how long it must be held, e.g.
110
[64] For with dotted notes they are to be placed thus:
which would certainly confuse many while they are playing, especially those
who know nothing about it. It is a shame that composers, in order to avoid
trouble, these days must begin to write appoggiaturas with exact notes and
ties, namely to write no small appoggiaturas, e.g.
but rather everything

clearly, as realizations:
And this because they fear that the appoggiatura, which may already be sixty
years old, may not be correctly sung, played, or held out long enough. What,
however, an appoggiatura76 actually is, remains to be debated.
Disc. You won’t, however, be able to resolve a certain confusion. Namely,

the choral director in Vallethal has an Allegro in which the first violin is
notated in 3/4, the second violin in 2/4, the viola in alla breve, and the bass in
common time. Recently they rehearsed it but were in no way able to bring it
together for the reason that there was no measure to beat.
Prec. And why not? One need only beat quarter notes on table, e.g., with the
key to the room, and thus each of the four music-performing people could cut
out his notes from it quite easily.
Disc. That is true. I would never have thought of that.
Prec. Because you are not giving up, I will show you, as a warning, a confusion
by composers who want to be more than discantists. They write, e.g.
76
It is improperly and only in jest also called a sigh. Since many discantists can compose
almost nothing without this sigh, they are deeply attracted to it. Actual sighs (suspiria) are
expressed, however, by means of short rests, and so on, at other times.
111
For the thrice-beamed notes77 do not usually belong to an Allegro, much less
to an Allegro assai or Presto. And since they were not too fast for a secure
bassoonist, a secure counselor praised him to a secure chapel master with the
following written words: “He varied with thrice beamed notes.” However,
it would be, for the sake of a clear melody, nevertheless better to use such
notes in a tempo where they belong, e.g.
In an Allegro assai, sixteenth notes are fast enough, e.g.
[65]
Occasionally just the opposite flows from the quill of a famous composer, e.g.
In some places in Germany they are also called thrice-connected notes. Here, however, they
77
are called thirty-second notes, because thirty-two of them make up a common measure.
112
Disc. These triplet** eighth notes are really not at all suitable here. I do not
know if they limp or if they are sleepy.
Prec. Certainly they make the limbs relax. Pay attention: the Allegro assai
will wake them up, e.g.
Disc. He should rather have set triplet sixteenth notes in tempo moderato, e.g.
Or, more smoothly, only sixteenths and eighths:
\Prec. Five years ago I heard twelve concertos by one composer in which
not one of the aforementioned double confusions was to be found. And yet
113
to this day he cannot understand why they did not please his listeners. I must
confess that I had to laugh to myself78 about one and another comical cadence
in which he placed the final note either on the second or fourth quarter of the
measure, e.g.
For such cadences, in my judgement, would sound pretty in music for a

Pulcinello or puppet show in the penny playhouse.
Disc. Those are changelings! He could have noticed the error immediately by
transcribing it into 2/4 time, e.g.
[66]
Prec. However, you must know that the good man became tainted. For he
seized, so to say, the opportunity, four years ago, to compose a Singspiel.79
This was performed by more than fifty good singers and instrumentalists. He
listened and, astonished by the beauty of his work, imagined and actually
believed from that time onward that he was the calf of Israel.
Disc. In that way even the worst composition can receive esteem. With God’s
help, I will certainly never let myself be dazzled by that.
Prec. As for listless passages—they are, perhaps, occasionally also written

by proven composers. I recently noticed in a very well-made concerto such
a passage in the middle of the first solo, which struck me as rather more
charming than listless, so that I took it for a clause** worked out with
diligence. I will give you an idea of it, e.g.
78
Only this laugh did not really come from my heart, for whoever has insight and wants to
judge impartially will admit that I have, thus far, explained far too little about this material.
79
I no longer remember whether it was a musical comedy, an opera, an oratorio, or a so-called
meditation.
114
Disc. That is certainly something else again.
Prec. However, since neither of us knows how to come up with it carefully,

we will leave such slippery arrangements to still greater masters.
Disc. Leave it to me. You are certainly not in a position to deter me. Until
now it was only metric order that I did not understand correctly. That indeed
sounds very good.
Prec. Do I have to spoon-feed you everything? You should think for yourself
just a bit. Now listen. Since the clause is set rather in alla-breve style (which
gives it its special quality), it should generally have been formulated as
follows:
1) Notice that two measures of 2/4 time make only one in alla-breve time.
2) You must carefully observe that in the foregoing example I make no

explicit repetition, but rather I welded together the middle two segments (end
and beginning) so that the fourth measure is left out.
3) It is obvious that the boisterous notes ✠ negate the fourth measure of the
repetition thus formed.
115
Disc. Forgive me. This opportunity has given me a chance to learn to consider
again something completely new. I want to bring it up later on. You do not
need to use the Θ any more. Meanwhile, I must still reveal to you a good idea
for a confusion, namely, if one mixes together 4/8, 9/8, 8/16, and 24/16.
Prec. And why not also 5/8 and 7/8?
Disc. You must not get angry. Our Hansmichel actually used 5/8 in the middle
of an Allegro. Pay attention, I will set it right at the beginning of a 2/4 tempo,
e.g.
[67] And he inserted a 7/8 in the middle of a 3/4 Allegro, e.g.
“Because five, six, or seven farmhands,” he said at the time, “strike the tempo
with their flails in the barn with such precision that in church music or other
kinds they often, and not without cause, take exception to the time-beating
and often laugh about it in private.”
Prec. This test is too difficult.
Disc. “It is,” he continued, “quite true that a cripple needs a crutch, as a
blind man needs a guide. On the other hand, people who are and wish to
be truly musical and in time have no need of a time beater. Music is much
more pleasing without this crutch, and those who see the performance would
have much less to ridicule than those who hear it. Unfortunately, I know
composers whose head, eyes, nose, mouth, hand, and foot must help to keep
time: quite as if they were insane. At first I thought a mere shameless boasting
was behind it and that such a nuisance rightfully ought to be stopped with a
severe beating. But after a while I became convinced that it was caused only
by fear and namely that of losing his daily bread. Because, beside that, their
whole art rested upon that crutch.”
116
Prec. Your Hansmichel can stay at home with his remarks. Time beating is 1)
very necessary, especially for German boys80 who have begun only recently
to sing descant and alto, 2) for singers who are of a flighty temperament,81 3)
for a piece of music for two or more choruses, etc.
Disc. I know it. For when the choir director in Vallethal auf dem Lacus-See
performed some night music, he had a lantern placed on the peak of the boat’s
helm (where he beat time) so that all the six choirs, which were in other boats,
could follow. But to return to our 5/8 and 7/8, tell me why the triplets ✠ and
the sextuplets ✠ ✠ are used in alla-breve, common, and 2/4 time, where they
do not belong, e.g.
Whoever tried it first may well no longer be bothered by toothaches, and if he

were allowed to do this, then I will be no less permitted to use a duple-meter
measure in a triple time =, e.g.:
Prec. Since art does not consist only in such discoveries, you could always
refrain from it until someone else begins to do it. I have never before heard
the word sextuplet. But I am sure that I know what you mean by it.
Disc. I know well that 4/8 and 8/16 both equal 2/4; and 24/16 equals 12/8;
also that 9/8 can be expressed just as well by 3/4. I also know that the
80
For the Italians are per fas & nefas moreover in more than one way affected virtuosos.
81
<Bloody as eight, at least as seven.>
117
understanding of various meters consists only in a little multiplication and

division. But, to pass over everything else in silence, I see today beside the
3/2 also a 3/1 measure, e.g.
[68]
Prec. Many a scribe either made a joke of this, or another perhaps tried to
trick a fool into thinking that he had gobbled up a hundred-and-fifty-year-old
antiquity. I trust myself to transcribe all the pieces of music that have been
composed since the time of Jubel either in 3/4, or in common or 2/4 time.
Look as the foregoing example, namely:
could thus be
represented as:
Or one could write Larghissimo instead of Largo.
Disc. It would, in fact, be easier and clearer if we had no more than two or three
meter signs. However, I have often heard that the alla-breve time is something
special, and, among other things, it alone is suitable for counterpoint.
Prec. That is ridiculous. Look, ages ago there were no regular notes but merely
dots. At that time,82 point against point meant as much as regular composition.
Disc. Today counterpoint is no longer made in this way.
Prec. No. Rather counternotes,83 which means as much as regular composition.

But if the word counterpoint pleases your lord better than the word counternote,
it must be admitted without argument that a well-set minuet, a symphony,
etc., consists of counterpoint just as much as a fugue with the stiff alla breve.
Nevertheless, this tempo is still retained because these notes:
are much more

easily read than:
82
<To place point against point; in a word, Contrapunctum.>
83
<Note placed against note.>
118
Therefore, for the sake of the studious choirboy as well as for the decrepit
choir director, etc., the first example is not to be discarded.
Disc. But alla breve is sung or played only half as quickly as 2/4 time.
Prec. I should certainly be so, but that time is past. For the most part, 2/4
time was not whipped through as rapidly as alla breve is nowadays. Formerly
all notes were held longer anyway. Only ten years ago my good friend’s
grandfather assured me that he had heard from his great-grandfather, that in
his time the tower masters84 often would call out during a musical performance
in the choir, “You fellows and boys watch out, here comes a note with a
dot!” These were, as you know, not singers but instrumentalists, therefore
performing not chant but figural music. Figural music, however, at that time
was for the most part written in alla-breve time with square one-pound notes.
Disc. Oh decaying passage of time! If alla breve were so slow, how boring
must have been the singing of plain chant notes, for heaven’s sake.
Prec. Therefore the erroneous idea arises from those who maintain that one
encounters many irregular arrangements in chant. From all of them, I will set
down only a short example in the F mode:
Or, to please you, this is clearer:
[69]
Disc. This example could not please a single reasonable man. Because it is in
the F mode, I will place a B-flat everywhere throughout it, e.g.
84
In other places called the Stadtpfeifer or Kunstpfeifer.
119
Or likewise at the beginning:
Prec. Many plainchant singers do that today. Indeed, one finds the B-flat here
and there already actually printed. On the other hand, to the ears of the old
ones, who knew nothing of flats and sharps,85 even the mi contra fa may not
have seemed so bad, because during one note they could easily forget the
previous note (so long did they hold them), e.g.
Accompanied on the organ, this example could be made more tolerable in

the following way:
Disc. But that is only patchwork. If the old ones knew nothing of sharps and
flats, then they must be pitied for their foolish melodies today. Furthermore,
I confess that my lord long ago explained mi contra fa. But I no longer
remember a single word of it.
Prec. Then pay attention. 1) Within an octave, let us say, from one F to
another F, or from one C to another C, etc., there are, NB, always altogether
85
Rather they both got by with mere genere diatoico, that is, without sharps or flats.
120
two [intervals of] mi fa. 2) mi is always the half step below, and fa the whole
[i.e., half] step above. 3) fa is named with respect to mi, likewise mi takes its
name with respect to fa. I will set down a scale in F to explain this more fully.
Now, from the first F to the G is a whole tone, from the G to the A is again a
whole tone, from the A to the B-flat is only a half-step; from this B-flat to the
C is again a whole step; from the C to the D is a whole step; from the D to
the E is a whole step; and from the E to the F is, once again, only a half-step.
Disc. In that way, are there no more than six whole steps?
Prec. Certainly no more. At the same time, one hears 8 pitches.86 I will write
out the scale in the key of C, look:
These five whole tones and two half tones make up six whole tones. As I
said before, NB in general, for there can be up to twelve half tones within an
octave, e.g. [70]
Disc. It is true. They make no more than six whole tones altogether. But I
would have had to solfege this example quite differently for my lord.
Prec. I will, however, also set down a scale with the minor third and mark the
first mi fa with **, the other mi fa with ✠ ✠:
Pitch: Sonus. Tone: Tonus.

86
121
From which you must conclude and remember always that one mi-fa is not
to be used in close connection with the other mi-fa, but they hold together,
each of them in particular,87 like a flax-comb maker. For example, the fa-mi
from Number 2
will have nothing to do with the

second fa-mi, namely this one:
Disc. Why won’t it do if I put the first mi next to the second fa, e.g.
or ascending:
Prec. You are right. I really had it wrong.88 Nevertheless the first fa * fights
with the second mi ✠, e.g.
or ascending:
Like a united pair of turtle doves.

87
Therefore, the saying “<mi against fa is the devil in music>” is not comprehensive, but just
88
happens to hold true in most cases.
122
which is called the false fifth and is forbidden in strict counterpoint.89
Disc. I truly believe it. For when I sing I can scarcely get this difficult leap
right on the first try.
Prec. In Number 1 the two mi-fa are the following: [71]
If these are exchanged, thus:
it then becomes this namely the augmented fifth, can be

sung only with great difficulty or not at all.
Disc. It may also sound truly barbarous.
Prec. On the other hand, this namely the minor seventh is

quite gladly heard in arias, etc.
In strict counterpoint, however, more often an octave leap, rather than the
seventh, is permitted. I will set out to prove on another occasion that injus-
tice is done to the good seventh leap. That the evil leap (tritonus) is hidden
in Number 1 will be clarified in the following. To this end, we will consider
the scale in F:
Now this, as it is a minor sixth, is easy to sing, and it is always

allowed in strict counterpoint.
89
“Strict counterpoint” means, here, first, a pedagogy in which one learns to set two-, three-,
four-, and more-voice pieces in complete accordance with the rules. Second, a composition that
can be performed in church justifiably without an organ. More about this in its own chapter.
123
On the other hand, this consists of three whole tones,90 the

so-called augmented fourth, is
hard to sing and is consequently
forbidden by strict counterpoint.
The same is to be understood of all
scales, e.g., in D with the major third:
This augmented fourth is forbidden descending as well as ascending,91 e.g.
[72]
Disc. Now I remember. My lord called this tritone a musical Fizlipuzli [an
Aztec god].
Prec. It is also not used even when the interval92 is filled in, e.g.
90
For that reason the tri-tonus is called a tritone. I am concerned that this material, although it
does not belong in this chapter, will seem too obscure or artificial to the discantist. However,
in the second chapter, all this will be explained to him in a clearer and more pleasing fashion.
I promise it on my honor.
91
Therefore, the saying would be much clearer for the beginner, thus: “<fa against mi, rather
than mi against fa, is the devil in music.>”
92
Intervallum.
124
Disc. You could have told me about this all at once. Now I finally understand
why the above example in chant notes cannot sound good, especially if it is
sung too rapidly, since it contains the <mi against fa>, e.g.
That is why, as I said, I preferred to

sing the B-flat, e.g.
Prec. Years ago it was often emphasized to me that a composer could fetch
the greatest light for his figural music from a chorale melody. Thus, I began
to search miserably for them, especially in old books, where either no or
few B-flats were used. However, as soon as one or another <mi against fa>
came into view, I did not want to learn anymore. Now, however, I regret
that I do not have more time for it. Now I know well that it can serve as a
modulation from the principal key to the fifth *; nevertheless one must once
again announce the principal key after the modulation (whether it is brief or
somewhat longer in duration), e.g., by means of a flat or a natural, ✠ , as
follows:
125
The modulation could well last longer, in proportion, than the principal key.
In contrast to the composers of chorales, [composers of figural music] made
use of modulations so long, that often93 they almost forgot the principal key
(the excessive zeal of dear antiquity can well be excused). That truth holds
for modulations to the third, the sixth, etc., and will be explained to you in
the following chapter. For now I will show you a few good and bad examples,
with respect to <mi against fa> in common time:
[73] A rapid, continuous [sequential] passage is to be tolerated, e.g.
Disc. I have see such a melody quite often, e.g.
Prec. This is not to be dismissed without observing the B-flat ✠ in the middle
and the C that follows it, which seem to give a little punch to the stomach.
93
Although a chorale can inspire me to devotion today a thousand times better than any sort of figur-
al music in church, whether more like a boisterous street song, a lewd play, or a whimpering howl.
126
Only at the last note of the principal key, F, does the stomach believe that it
has heard rather the following example:
In time the notes themselves will tell you one and another thing, if you
diligently ask their advice in trust.
Disc. Just stop it! Now I know how to find my way through, provided there
no longer is a <mi against fa>.
Prec. And can you still have any doubt, now that you know what mi and fa
are? Here are only six more, different examples of them, e.g.
In all these six or seven examples, I will make apparent the most important94
mi fa by means of black note heads, that is, some with fa to mi or some with
mi to fa. Look:
[74]
<Homogeneous, or nearly.>
94
127
Disc. But how does it happen that this <mi against fa> sounds so bad, and the
other mi fa love to remain together?
Prec. For that we should ask those philosophers95 who know how a magnet obtains
its strength and natural disposition to pull iron toward itself,96 and a thousand
other such things. The two of us will leave that to the all-knowing Creator.
Disc. If the <mi against fa> is now forbidden in strict counterpoint, partly
because it is too difficult to sing and mostly because it sounds disagreeable,
then ought one to use it just as little with instruments?
Prec. One can give form to quite strange ideas with them if needs be. I will
use each of the previous six examples to show, as it were, how I just might
form a cadence here and there:
95
The honorific word (Philosophus) in the Latin language is so common today that young striplings
with united might are beginning to challenge the most experienced of men. Mathematicus sounds
more splendid to my ear than all of world knowledge: thus is it often called; I believe it reluctantly.
96
<Affinity with iron.>
128
These [instances of] <mi against fa> would certainly be too difficult for
choirboys. On the other hand, I have known mature singers for whom they
are, in an aria or cantata, as little trouble as for instrumentalists. For you must
know that the texts of such pieces justify them. If the interval between each
mi and fa were filled in, there would be no difficulty attached to them any
more. Just look at the sixth or last of the examples. I mean approximately
this:
and so in every Θ, which I have already forgotten nearly a hundred times.
Disc. The despairing Fizlipuzli is holding us up rather long.
Prec. And if we were even to use a half day on this, it would be worth the
effort. You must surely know that <mi against fa> between the bass and
the upper voices is forbidden, namely when two major thirds97 follow in
succession, e.g. [75]
Because the fa in the bass follows too soon after the mi in the upper voice.
Rising, however, these thirds are permitted, e.g.
Disc. The latter sound much better than the former.
97
Tertiae majorem.
129
Prec. Nowadays one no longer treats them so cautiously. Two major sixths,98
for the same reason, were in disuse for a long time, but today one hears them
in nearly all compositions. Concerning that and, in general, all the previous
material, more will be said in the chapter on the bass.
Disc. My lord once said that the <mi against fa> was found in a book that
he valued at more than 800 French [francs], in which the rules of musical
compositions were written.
Prec. That is without a doubt the Manuductio [handbook] of the sainted

chapel master Fux.
Disc. Yes, that is it.
Prec. The 800 must not, however, refer to Frenchmen but perhaps to those
persons whose names are to be found only in a certain book by a French writer.99
Disc. That may be. But I must tell you that it always causes an argument
whenever the schoolmaster comes to Urbsstadt to visit my lord. For he says that
the Manuductio by Fux is clear, and my lord maintains that it is obscure. In fact,
three weeks ago he put ten doubtful examples under the schoolmaster’s nose.
Prec. Don’t you know anything about it?
Disc. Certainly, most of it. Just listen. My lord asked him, among other things,
whether “holding back” (which he calls retardatio) were the same as a tie.
He answered my lord Yes. “Then,” said my lord, “the Manuductio contradicts
itself, for it forbids the following example.”
Because the tied note (which

is nothing but a delay, post-
ponement, lingering, or hold-
ing back), can be resolved into
its original, natural form, e.g.

Sextae majores.
98
Brossard, in his Dictionnaire de musique. I have only read it in an annotation in Rameau’s

99\8
Demonstration du principe de l’harmonie and was very amazed by it. Herewith, I think it
will do no harm if I brag a bit about it in the present chapter. Whoever knows the joke will
understand why. For all I care, others may think that I am either greedy for fame or selfish. For
whoever does not understand music, does not understand my writing either.
130
[76] consequently the consecutive octaves in the first example are just as
little to be excused, which, in fact, is already known to all the world without
this [example]. On the other hand, one sees in the Manuductio the following
opening to illustrate the prohibition given by the third rule concerning
ligatures for two voices
Where, with the omission of the

tied notes, nothing but octaves
are presented, e.g.
To this the Urbsstädter objected that the former were <dissonant ties>, the
latter, however, are <consonant ties>, so that the tie here is to be considered
not a suspension but a principal pitch. “That cannot be,” answered my lord,
“or else the following example would be thought to contain obvious fifths,
because a leap of a third is much too small to recover its innocence:
which, without
the tie, appears
at which the Urbsstädter’s mouth stood agape.
Prec. And so, in this case, one of them understood the Manuductio just as
little as the other.
Disc. My lord, however, continued, asking him what was to be set in the
highest or outer voice above the following, NB, not leaping but stepwise
rising and, at the same time, tied notes, e.g.
The other man did this:
131
“If now,” my lord retorted once more, “the suspensions are removed, then
you must look out for successive and forbidden fifths just as much as stepwise
descending [fifths], e.g.
because these, after their resolution into their first Jubalistic essence, are
nothing but:” [77]
The Urbsstädter could thereafter defend his position even less, because Fux,
as I have heard, offered no example of such a stepwise ascending line (in the
bass or lowest voice) anywhere in the Manuductio.
Prec. To be sure he has nothing but a brief mention of this, in which he

warns his student of it. However, I will here describe and allow them (NB,
all stepwise ascending ones) as <consonant tie>, because the definition of
Retardatio is never found in this connection. Consequently, the Urbsstädter
is correct, to this extent, in my view. By the way, I point out that the two
good gentlemen will come across many hundreds of such obscure places in
the writings of the said master. This is not the place to speak about them. But
after I have written the chapter on strict counterpoint, the Manuductio
132
will certainly no longer seem obscure to them, provided that they give due
respect to my explanation of the writing.
Disc. Solutions to all difficulties are not to be found in the Manuductio, then?
Prec. For that, he would have had to publish not one Manuductio but an entire
dozen. He has with brevity said a great deal, which will be painstakingly
demonstrated.100
Disc. But exactly and specifically what does his whole book contain?
Prec. An orthography (correct way of writing) enables one to learn how to

compose orderly pieces with few or many voices above or below one another.
This (which I also refer to as so-called strict counterpoint) is a principal part of
composition, and many hundreds of eyes have been opened by it, which, even if
they are not capable, now at least understand that composition and composition
are two different things.101 It is just a shame that he did not have more time in
which also to write about the remaining principal parts of composition.
Disc. I see that he wrote everything in alla-breve time.
Prec. I will, however, write everything in 2/4 or common time. Look, for
example, at the Urbsstädter’s notes:
100
< It is easy to add to what has already been discovered>. And one could certainly not expect
more from me.
101
There are, however, self-aggrandizing souls among them who are ashamed to admit that
their entire understanding of orthography is derived from Fux’s Manuductio.
133
[78] Or with sixteenth notes. 1) For the reason that many men blindly think
that outside of the alla-breve time they may compose nothing regular. 2)
Because many others do not know that the alla breve (in which meter strict
counterpoint is displayed) is performed these days much too rapidly, and
therefore is no longer capable of excusing certain hideous excesses. Because,
who can listen without annoyance to the church pieces thrown together by
masters who are godless and without honor but who nevertheless want to be
reasonable, in which the words, for example, Leiden (“to suffer”) Sterben (“to
die”), Erbarmen (“to arouse compassion”), Anstehen (“to wait”), and Bitten
(“to pray”) (in German as well as in other languages), which are disgraced by
the rushed alla-breve tempo of today, in which neither Andante nor Moderato
is indicated. And, in fact, there are, in addition, far wilder cases.102
Disc. Ah, why do you not let a designated leader burn them and compose
others in their place? Eventually I want to sketch out the tempo for every
meter with care. For my lord has explained everything to me very well.
Prec. I would be very glad to see a little of this.
Disc. Gladly. Just look:
Largo, Lento = very slow

Larghetto = only somewhat slow
Adagio = slow
Poco Adagio = also only a little bit slow
Andante = halfway slow, or at a walking pace (from andare, “to go”)
Andantino = only one-quarter-way slow
Allegro = lively
Allegro molto, Allegro con Spirito, or Spiritoso = very lively
Allegretto = only a little lively, just as much as
Allegro mà non molto = lively, but not very
Allegro, mà non troppo = lively, but not too much
Allegro assai = quite lively, just as much as
Presto = fast
Prestissimo = very fast
102
One needs only to hear a seventy-year-old God-fearing choir director groan and lament
about it once.
134
Vivace = lively, but not rushed

Commodo, Moderato Tempo = easy, moderate
Grave = serious, but nevertheless not too slow
Cantabile, Arioso = singing
Tempo ordinario = is already known to every German
Prec. Your lord has explained it to you all too well. Prestissimo, Presto,
Allegro, Allegro non molto, or Larghetto, Andante, Adagio, and Largo
would be sufficient for a hundred years.
Disc. He himself does not know whether Tempo giusto means Allegro or
Adagio.
Prec. I believe it, because inasmuch as giusto just means “correct,” so one
must deduce the right tempo from the content of the composition itself.
Disc. Once I saw “Tempo di giusto.”
Prec. In German that means “agreeable,” “pleasant,” etc., even if the content
of the composition is sometimes so very revolting.
Disc. Hansmichel recently played an ordinary minuet very slowly and added
ornaments here and there. I assure you that we all believed that it was the
most exquisite Adagio. Out our way, we perform the Allegro not as quickly
as here in the city.
Prec. I know that. For Allegro is played differently in each region, in each city,
and almost by every person, I mean, sometimes more quickly and sometimes
more slowly. I would claim this, if I dared, only with respect to two Italian
masters, of which the older conducts his Allegro almost half again as slowly
as the one who is twenty years younger. And the same is true with Andante,
Adagio, and all the rest, so that many do not know how it should be done.
Disc. In Italian symphonies I have often seen the word Crome.
Prec. Crome means “eighth notes,” and Semicrome “sixteenth notes,” etc.
is played
thus:
135
[79]
is played
thus:
Disc. A Gavotte requires, as I understand it, a very precisely measured tempo.
Prec. Be still! We want t o leave these street singers together with their rusty
sarabandes, courantes, rondeaus, and horpipes to their grey-bearded admirers
and their country people. It would be better, in my judgement, if I let six small
concertinos from my everyday work be engraved or typeset for you as plain
and simple prototypes, in which you could comprehend metric order and
observe tonal order, until you are ready to understand and imitate the exalted
and extraordinary compositions of masters. Nevertheless, it cannot be done for
you alone. Several discantists would have to desire it. And for me it is so much
the less necessary because I do not have the motive to search out a need for
this. In the meantime, that is enough for today. I suggest you remain at home
for eight days and write about a hundred variations on each example in this
entire chapter as well as some arias, concertos, and symphonies. Immediately
afterward we will take in hand our beloved tonal order.
Disc. I almost forgot to say something about the word master, which you,
perhaps, write far too often. After my lord read, yesterday, your introduction
to the minuet, he said the following, in the presence of Hansmichel, his wife,
and me: “A scholar never mentions in his writing that he is a scholar, but he
knows how to twist things around so artfully that at the end of the book one
is convinced that all scholars are either his brothers or his students.” Thus it
is also with the word master.
Prec. I understand. He thought he would upset me with that. Do you know

what? You can mollify him right away. Just say to him that I am now really your
master. He, on the other hand, is indeed a total schoolmaster. But as long as
he is still learning how to tie a complete broom, then the broom maker can still
be his master.103 You will make him happy with this analogy. And do you know
103
One needs only to hear a seventy-year-old God-fearing choir director groan and lament
about it once.
136
what else? At the same time you can ask if he may even write a few chapters on
metric order sometime or other. He now can look upon mine as a short model, or
perhaps the Urbsstädter will lend him a helping hand with his mathematics.
Disc. Would it be possible to squeeze even more out of the subject of metric
order?
Prec. Without a doubt. For music is a fathomless sea.
NB: Since the author’s manuscript is very distorted and unreadable, due
to haste here and there perhaps letters, words, and notes may have been
misplaced or overlooked. But provided the pages are trimmed to be bound
together, each reader can easily correct the conspicuous errors and annotate
his copy with a quill, in order to make the contents more intelligible.
End of the first chapter.
Augsburg: printed by Johann Jacob Lotter, 1752.
137
The original frontispice for Chapter 2.
138
CHAPTER 2
Grundregeln zur Tonordnung insgemein. Abermal durchgehends mit
musicalischen Exempeln abgefaßt und Gespräch-weise vorgetragen von
Joseph Riepel, Sr. Durchl. des Fürsten von Thurn und Taxis Kammermusicus.
Frankfurt, Leipzig, und aller Orten Teutschlands, wo das erste Capitel von
der Tactordnung zu haben ist. 1755.
Principles of Tonal Order Generally, Once Again Set Out with Musical
Examples Throughout and Presented in Conversational Style by Joseph
Riepel, Chamber Musician to His Highness the Prince of Thurn and Taxis.
In Frankfurt, Leipzig, and all other German lands where the first chapter on
metric order is to be had, 1755.
Report of a Friend to the Author
[i] Dear Brother!
Your customary [remark], “He who praises me must himself be worth

very little,” hinders me from proclaiming anything else than that one was
indeed pleased with the delivery of the first chapter in the bookstore. How-
ever, it took scarcely fourteen days for it to become clear that no one knew
anything of this musical publication. I want to describe to you, furthermore,
the cause of this, specifically and completely comprehensively. In some
distant place, people who wanted to buy it were told that the chapter was
not yet complete because the remaining parts of it were being waited upon.
Do you see the malice? For were I to say, “Fux discussed counterpoint in
his incomparable work (Manuductio). Since, however, he promised to write
still several further chapters of the work, one may not, therefore, read the
Manuductio,” would that not be an insolent conclusion? (One of our com-
posers here said to me right to my face that he would not look at a single
note of it until he had all of its following chapters, regardless of the fact
that he does not understand a single note of the chapter on metric order.)
Furthermore, I have provided several of my best musical friends with cop-
ies and have asked them to make the chapter known to several amateurs.
However, that happened very seldom. This may have also had a reason.
May heaven protect me from such friendships! Because I then saw that the
pitiful chapter would have lain about rotting, another bookseller, namely
Mr. Montag, took it on at my request. From that moment to this, it flutters
around valiantly in various places, so that the future parts of Tonal Order,
etc., will be awaited with desire.
139
One person, I believe perhaps even one of your fellow countrymen, named
Perile, was heard to have said the following words recently while drinking
coffee, “I do not know what this stupid person is thinking of by publishing a
worthless little book on composition, except to play around. I would want to
bring something different into the world, were I to make the effort. But first I
want to say by word of mouth to my own acquaintances that his scribbling is
of no use.” This pompous speech gave the Monsberger and the Urbsstädter
uncommon pleasure. For I would almost bet that all three have sworn that the
one would lift the other’s dainty compositions up to the clouds. But, brother, I
did not know how it came about that in your letter you portrayed me as a poet.
The influence of the stars is, of course, as I observe, just as fruitful here as in
other places under the heavens, if only I first really understood how to make
declinations or inflections in our dear native language. You know what I mean.
It is true that during the past year I have cobbled together forty-some-odd
verses about music. However, the famous poet in Opolisburg found fault with,
beside innumerable errors, [my setting of] the first word, “music,” because I
have made the first syllable long and the second one short. My neighbor, the
old, well-read, plain-speaking Frank, of course, took my part and contradicted
the poet, “You follow your pronunciation and we follow ours. Yours is not the
oldest but only the most affected. Those who make the first syllable of music
short and the second one long are Franco-Germans. Were one but only to ask
that old dear, the sick, the abandoned mother Latin, she would unfortunately
have much to say. In this connection, it astonishes me that you have addressed
your dedication just to me. After all, you confided in me that for the most part
you owe your understanding of the art of notes to learned Dresden, exactly
where you had the good fortune to hear many audible musical beauties for
five years. Why have you not, therefore, dedicated your work out of gratitude
to the great master of that place or to one of his colleagues? In my position I
am not capable of protecting what you have written. Lastly, I would not even
know how to guide someone through an introduction. Thus, have I let the reply
you sent to me be printed below, altogether. If you now send me the second
chapter, I will do the same with it, and moreover I want to add this letter of
mine, too. I assure you that the printer was delighted to the point of laughter by
this contrivance. In expectation, etc.
your loyal brother,

Leiper
[anagram for Riepel].
[ii] P.S. I do not know why it was suggested to me and was finally allowed
to be placed “Frankfurt and Leipzig” on the title page, even though this can
140
Principles of Tonal Order Generally
easily be obtained in Regensburg and elsewhere by receptive musical ama-

teurs. You know well that I seek no gain in this, if I were only to get my own
money out of it soon, so that I may, by this means, have your promised violin
concerto quickly printed. For I observe that the Urbsstädter and Monsberger
will consider you to be a blow-hard until then.
Reply:
Worthy Friend!
How easy it would be to write out several hundred chapters for begin-
ners one after the other, were it not that one might die of hunger because of
this in the meantime. And even if one had the time for it, death itself would
generally prevent it more than would all contrary persons. Which, of course,
teaches us more and more to look to our righteousness in the world. Mean-
while, I can still marvel at perils, namely because from this I can conclude
that my work is of use. Furthermore, I have personally received letters about
this from completely different places, which give me more credit than I ask
for or deserve. Concerning the following, I do not try to answer you at all,
for, in the past, composers have assiduously explained poetry, and poets mu-
sic. These days, however, it seems no longer to be usual. Your noble Frank
may, thus, not be very well-read, if he considers our Latin mother to be sick.
For if, according to what I hear, she already has been dealt a death blow in
legal transactions, and if, perhaps, many a one who finds a bit of ill-will in
himself after his defeat over her Probemus cries for revenge, she nevertheless
remains a healthy interpreter of heavenly secrets as well as earthly disputes
between elevated personages, so much so that her renegade French daughter
will threaten her complete demise in vain. And what do I care about these
things and about poetry? I see well that you, like me, are over-abundant in
your writing. I, too, have sometimes spent several minutes chatting about other
things with the discantist. However, that took place rather for the refreshment
of the soul, especially, however, in order that his weak brain would not become
too keyed-up by the rules about fifths following one after another in such rapid
succession. By now I know well that I would have to talk with a grown man
quite differently. As for Dresden, you are entirely correct, for there I got to
examine many masterpieces from Berlin at that time, since my limited purse,
alas, did not allow me anything more.
However, a dedication, in general, seems to have I-do-not-always-
know-what selfish final purpose. The famous composer [Benedetto] Marcel-
lo, Nobile Veneto, in the critique (against opera that he has published), mocks
141
it in the following way: in dedicating a new book, one should valiantly praise
the dedicatee for his generosity and finally conclude with: In this hope, I kiss
the feet of the fleas on your dogs and remain, etc. I, however, continue to be
your sincere brother,
Riepel.
P.S. Overleaf, I have put on the other page the contents of the whole chapter.
You, who are taken to be a musical expert around here, will judge what is
right. Sometimes I personally think that I go too excessively back and forth
with my opinion. Evil persons in this world, however, often make the biggest
mysteries out of many trifles, so that I cannot determine whether they write
so obscurely about music by choice, or whether nature simply failed to teach
them how to make sense more clearly. It used to be done like this some years
ago in Leipzig. They presented themselves as quite learned, of course. Thus
it is, from one point of view, not wrong if my theses are somewhat contrary
to some others. From this proceeds, perhaps, another important advantage.
For people, even in schools, argue often as if they wanted to kill each other.
At heart, however, they are nevertheless good friends with each other. One
thing more: you must ask the readers repeatedly and quite cordially that, as
soon as the chapter is bound, they correct the misprints [listed] at the end, at
least with pencil in the margins. In that way the discourse will certainly be
much clearer to them. This easy and useful precaution is not understood by
many careless people.
I, however, will not really hope that such a poor expert will examine
this and consider such purely candid instruction, here and there, merely to
represent a censorious style. You know me best. Farewell!
[iii] Contents
The nomenclature C\, D\, F\, etc., without differentiation from C[, D[,
F[, etc., is considered incorrect; whereas when this distinction is made, it
is considered correct. Although in many places both of them are unknown.
Pages 2-3
My nomenclature for these pleases me best, not simply because of mere

egotism but because I learned it that way. Page 4.
The nomenclature D la sol re, E la mi, F fa ut, etc., has long been in disuse.
Page 10
142
The plainchant nomenclature, first tone, second tone, etc., rightly belongs to
the four-line staff. I will say something about it in passing some other time.
Solmization no longer fits with the majority of keys. And the Dorians,
Lydians, etc., knew nothing about them. Page 12.
The old Dorian, Lydian, etc., modes are today considered dead, except for
expressive choral music. Pages 15 to 20.
Mathematical calculation of ratios does not help composition. Consequently,

it is an irresponsible tale concocted in a dream, in which, by means of the
same, this one and that one learned to compose so fashionably. However, it
can, strangely, help those who have no natural ear tune the harpsichord or
organ. Pages 20 to 25.
The unique art of permutations, by means of which one can invent far more
than ninety-nine themes in a single day; is at least ninety-nine times healthier
for composition than the aforesaid mathematical calculation of ratios. Pages
25 to 32.
It (the art of permutations) helps all together with pitch oscillation. Page
112.
Tonal order long in use, especially in Italy and Germany, etc., as well as the
arrangement and organization of symphonies, concertos, violin solos, etc.,
will be explained. From pages 66 to the end.
Even the American sloth takes up tonal order.
Composers do not orient themselves to the verse meters of the Latin

poets, except insofar as rhetoric or the art of oration requires it, contrary to
the opinion of the honorable P. Spiess. Page 127.
NB: The violin concerto that the author promised in the first chapter will
issued from the press within a few weeks.
143
[1] Second Chapter:
Concerning Tonal Order1
Discantist. Greetings, good-mornings, and good wishes [Seitderzeitherimme

rmitleibundseelwohlaufgewesenzuseynan-wünschen] are, in fact, something
praiseworthy, although, in my opinion, often merely an empty formality.
We want, therefore, now and in the future, to advance quickly to the main
business. However, I must yet mention, among other things, that during these
eight days, according to the instructions of the first chapter, I have produced
far more than a hundred examples, arias, concertos, and symphonies, and
have brought out such strange things in their arrangement of measures as you
certainly have not thought of in all the days of your life.
Preceptor. You also use a quite strange German vocabulary.2
Disc. I must also confide that the Urbsstädter has noticed many errors in
your writing. Except for that, he says, the chapter would be quite worthy to
appear in print, especially if you would hand it over to him for correction
beforehand, because, in his opinion, day in and day out even much worse
printed books and music collections come out.
Prec. All people are capable of committing errors. I am a person. <Therefore>.

. . .3 And do you know of any errors in it?
Disc. Yes. On page 60 you called the inversion of the <theme> contrarium
reversum. But that was wrong, because the <theme> moves only through a
minor third, while the inversion, on the other hand, moves through a major
third.
Prec. The good Urbsstädter ought not scorn my stock in trade until I have
explained it fully! I certainly have not yet written about fugues. Ask him,
1
De Melopoeïa
2
The discantist’s third main word (Substantivum) reminds me of Tobias Beutel’s Arithmetica
der Radix: Pentakischiliohexacofiotessaracontaheptagonalis. To say nothing of the longer
chains of link sausages that are found here and there in old mathematics books. I simply think
that, in time, there may well arise a compass-harmonist who could apply such radices even to
current practical mathematical calculation in order better to fill up the links of his book where
otherwise Logarithmi or Cubicubi, Zensizensi, sursolidizensi, etc., etc., would not be suffi-
cient. In many respects, the world seems really to have become much smarter!
3
To be sure, David says, “<I spoke upon my death: every man is a liar>.” But this has nothing
to do with me and those like me.
144
therefore, whether one can remain always in the same key. Now, when the
<theme> revolves around the third, what is wrong with that? e.g.
Can one not call this contrarium reversum or an exact inversion? And he
wants to censure books without understanding even such a simple thing?
Disc. All right. I will bring this to him when I have a chance. He also says
that on pages 49 and 50 you have explained and proven too little about the
old comma.
Prec. Therefore, in his opinion, I perhaps should have put out an entire folio
volume just on metric order. For example, two years ago in Brussels I saw a
French song of the following kind:
[2] We Germans would make the divisions in this way:
A Pole would even make a Polish dance out of it, because he is also oriented
toward his national style, for example:
145
If, in order to please the Urbsstädter, I should now have to seek out each
detail of 30 or 40 such examples, we would need a year and a day to deal with
a single chapter. At the same time, it is impossible to help him who does not
himself want to take part and understand.
Disc. Oh dear! I, myself, have also doubted you a little. But my lord may well
have been right. He says that As (“A flat”), Cis (“C sharp”), Dis (“D sharp”),
Fis (“F sharp”), and Gis (“G sharp”) would be better known, clearer, and
easier to pronounce than your designations. The Lord Choral Superintendent
in Vallethal maintained recently the opposite and vehemently declared your
views to be his own. He said, quite in opposition to my lord, that it would be
better to send As (“A flat”), Cis (“C sharp”), Dis (“D sharp”), Fis (“F sharp”),
and Gis (“G sharp”) to Siberia for the sable song.
[3]
Prec. I do not want to thank you for this improper defense of his. Everyone
who speaks this way is, as far as I am concerned, mistaken. So that you may,
however, have a small idea of it, show me D sharp in notes.
Disc. I add a ♭ to E, e.g.
Prec. Now consider whether it is possible that one can actually say D sharp,
since the little words D sharp have for their forename D and not E. Just as F
sharp has F, G sharp has G, C sharp has C, and A flat has A. On the contrary,
your two notes have E as their basis and not D.
Disc. That is admittedly mistaken.
Prec. For this reason, one would also not be able to call a D with a ♭, a C
sharp. A with the [ is not G sharp. G with the ♭ is not F sharp. And C with
the [ is not called B natural.
146
Disc. Therefore the ones where a ♯ is used are called by Hansmichel Cis dur
(“C-sharp major”), Fis dur (“F-sharp major”), Gis dur (“G-sharp major”), etc.
On the contrary where a [ is used he calls them Cis mol (“C-sharp minor”),
Fis mol (“F-sharp minor”), Gis mol (“G-sharp minor”), etc. However, people
are not content with this either.
Prec. This is certainly a useless bedevilment. For this a few wise German
composers (not long ago) have thought up a more clever nomenclature. Note
that all the notes that use a sharp sign end with the letters is [in German]:
Disc. It is true, here D sharp is written with the note D.
Prec. On the other hand, all notes that use the flat sign end with the letters es
[in German]:
Look at the scales4 of both along with their natural notes, e.g.
[3]
Disc. Why do you write “As” and not “Äs” [for A flat]? Earlier you said that
all notes with the [ end with the letters es.
4
Scale. Latin scala. Among the French it is called Gamme. For the Greeks, G is called gamma.
For the Greeks, G is undoubtedly considered to be the first key, since, in general, for beginners
it is also the easiest.
147
Prec. I want to have nothing to do with that. “As” is easier to say than “Äs.”
Disc. Another thing, B sharp is the same and C, and E sharp is the same as F.
Prec. Not at all. For B sharp and C, as well as E sharp and F are never
juxtaposed as they are here. This has been done this time only in order to
show you the specific designation of each note. Perhaps you believe that
because B sharp is played on the keyboard no differently from C natural, or
E sharp no differently from F. It just works the same way as F flat and E, and
for that reason the sign + has been placed between them in the second scale
[in Ex. 343]. But listen. In each key in which the melody is found, one must
begin from below [with the tonic note] and count upward. Thus, B sharp
is the seventh degree of the C-sharp scale. The Italians and the French, in
addition to this nomenclature, which is foreign to them, also know this, e.g.:
Here you see the seventh marked with the number 7.
Disc. I notice that. Is it not the case that the tonic note is marked with a “1”
below it and from there one counts in the following way: seconda means
second, as in “the second note counting from the tonic note?” Tertia nota,
the third. Quarta the fourth. Quinta the fifth. Sexta the sixth. Septima the
seventh, and Octava the eighth. Usually, however, one says only the second,
the third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, the seventh, and the octave. It may
sound a little like Latin or Italian.
Prec. Good. Now do you want to use a C instead of a B sharp? Maybe like
this?
Here, however, (since B is skipped over) this pitch is no longer a seventh but
rather a diminished octave, that is a perversion of an octave. See what kind of
confusion that would introduce?
Disc. Now I understand all of that quite well. However, to return to the earlier
nomenclature, should I call this key
148
E flat and not D sharp because its tonic

note is an E?
Prec. So it is, and not otherwise. If you do not want to believe me, look it up
in the majority of today’s German books that deal with music.
Disc. I only fear that my lord will send me with these novelties all the way to
Siberia, or perhaps even to Krakow. What do you think of that?
Prec. I give them their worth. But precisely because I have not become
accustomed to it, I have always comfortably followed the nomenclature that
the Italians and French have in common with many Germans, which does not
recognize the H [“B natural”].
Disc. Oh, I practically know it already. The Lord Choral Superintendent

recently opposed my lord on that matter, saying that one would be changing
the ancient A B C into A H C, and he set out for him the octave in this way, i.e.
Now it may be, of course, that the Italians and the French agree on this old
form and say B instead of H. But Fux?
Prec. Fux, as a German, says so also. Your lord should look it up it in the
Latin edition on page 50 in the middle. He will find nothing of the H there.
[4] Disc. But the person who translated it into German?
Prec. He says the same thing, namely Prof. Mitzler.5 Simply turn to page 70
in the German, right at the beginning, and, in fact, it will say, “Because such
5
Namely, Professor of Philosophy and not Professor of Music, as one or another reader might,
perhaps, stupidly assume.
149
a B is not a perfect fifth.”6 In a word, both [versions] recognize, the so-called

H by [the letter B].7
Disc. What does that mean: “Because B has no perfect fifth?”
Prec. That means that the F above the B forms only the small fifth, the so-
called false fifth.
Disc. So perhaps one must put \ before the F, or the [ before the B, e.g.
Prec. Those certainly would be perfect fifths. But you must know that the
ancients knew of neither the \ nor the [. Therefore, they could not use the key
of B at all, but rather such a B served them only to complete the remaining
keys.
Disc. Therefore they did not have more than 6 notes, namely A, C, D, E, F,
and G. Since we today have the \ and the [, what do you call the following
three notes?
Prec. I call the first B, as do Fux and others.8 The second one [I call] B flat,
and the third one B sharp.
Disc. I understand. However, for now I ask you, for goodness sake, let me
stay with H instead of B. In time I will become one of those who says B
instead of H.
Prec. I will do everything that pleases you and is not actually sinful. Yet,
I advise you, rather, to conform always to the nomenclature of your lord
6
That should say, however, “Because B has no perfect fifth.” For a single note cannot be a fifth,
but it can only have or take on a fifth. For that reason, Fux wrote, “<This (B) does not have a
consonant fifth>.”
7
As is to be seen in the Latin version on page 131, line 7, and in the German version on page
114, line 19.
8
Some Italians call this B natural a hard B. That is, however, false, as is seen above.
150
when you are with him. I, too, have had to conform everywhere to all people.
Consequently, I want to set out the scale in my manner but with the H, in
order to please you, i.e.
Hopefully you know that the word durum means hart ( “hard”) in German,
and it is shown by the sign ♯, just as the word molle means weich (“soft”)
in German and is designated by the small letter b [♭]. However, one speaks
in an abbreviated fashion: “dur” and “mol,” and not “durum” and “molle.”
Thus, I say in the case of the scale: c, c sharp [dur, etc.], d, d sharp, e, e sharp,
f, f sharp, g, g sharp, a, a sharp, b, b sharp, c. If speaking in German, I also
say, c, c cross, d, d cross, e, e cross, etc. And thus an Italian also understands
me, if he can get around in German halfway. Thus:
And one says c, c flat [mol, etc.], b flat,9 a, a flat, g, g flat, f, f flat, e, e flat, d,
d flat, c.
Disc. What do you call this key?
Prec. I call this E with the minor third. For minor in German means “small,”
and major means “large.” Since the third, namely G, is only a tone and a half
from the tonic note, E. On the other hand, the following third is two whole
tones away from it, e.g:
For that reason, I call this key E with the major third. For from E to G♯ there
are two whole tones or four half tones. Likewise, the latter is called a major key
by some writers; the one with the minor third, however, is called a minor key.
9
I may no longer say “B flat,” since the youth wants to have H instead of the natural B.
151
Disc. We out in Monsberg call the E with the minor third “E mol,” precisely
because it is much gentler and softer than the E with the major third, which
we call “E dur.”
Prec. I have known that for a long time. But what does the primary tone have
to do with the third? E remains for now and always simply E. E flat remains
for now and always E flat. It may, accordingly, associate with the major third
or the minor third, or not.
[5] Disc. Does Fux call my lord’s D sharp also E flat, that is, in German a
soft E?
Prec. Indeed. Correctness and naturalness require nothing less. Suffice it to

read in the Latin version page 235 from the middle on down. In the German
version, however, see page 175 from the sixth line down. Now I will show
you the nomenclature of today’s usual keys, i.e.
10
11

12

10
E flat with the minor third is not usual, for example in a incidental way, that is, by dint of the

modulations in the middle of a piece. And this happens rarely.
11
This B, or the H according to the Discantist, with the major third is also used only in an
incidental
. way.
12
I
have seen this A flat only once (when I was still very young) in a violin solo. For it must
truly be a strange melancholic who loves such keys. The keys of the organ of a 70-year-old or-
ganist were finger-worn, except for the sharps and flats, which were a finely polished as when
they were new. When he was asked the reason for this, he answered, “I do not need the sharps
and the flats for an entire year at a time.” That, however, is too much.
152
Disc. Since these are called the major keys, why do you only designate the
major third in the case of the second [i.e., the last four]?
Prec. Because the others are already so well known and customary that it is
not needed. Nevertheless, whoever wants to refer to them as “major third”
everywhere, he will break his jaw as little as an Italian and a Frenchman. On
the contrary, in the following minor keys, the minor third must always be
designated, i.e.
Here the last two and the following two appear only in an incidental way, e.g:
13 14

[6] Disc. What does “in an incidental way” mean?
Prec. That all keys with the minor as well as the major third may be introduced
during the modulations in the middle, as for example:
13
Here I say “hard C, or C cross.”
14
Here hard G, or G cross
153
Now F with the minor third is the principal key here. B flat with the minor
third is established only incidentally (as you see).
Disc. I understand that. In such a way one can freely introduce and incorporate
all keys.
Prec. Likewise you will hopefully also understand that the following two
keys are played one exactly like the other on a keyboard, i.e.
Likewise the following two with the major third:
Disc. I believe that, because the \ raises a note by a half tone; the [, on the other
hand, lowers it by a half tone. Thus it follows necessarily that C\ and D[ are
the same pitch, and they are played with the same keys. Oboists and transverse
flutists, etc., must know that as well. Similarly, E\ is none other than F, or likewise
B\ is C. The Urbsstädter has filled an entire book with such keys for the training
of youngsters, and has made a strong wind about it. Thus my lord once drunkenly
reproached him that he could save himself the trouble simply by putting two or
three examples on a quarto sheet in the key of C. And then the student or also
the teacher could have been emphatically directed to transpose the two or three
examples into all the other twenty-three keys using \ and [.Prec. Then, however,
his wind would have been bottled up. It is certainly beautiful, useful, and
even unavoidably necessary to get to know all keys. However, after one
knows them thoroughly, one has to choose only the most common of them
for daily use. For I think a composer can show his art only in a few keys, as
long as he lives. Just as an entire empire was founded in the past upon only
one key, we could actually be content with as few as a half dozen of them.
Disc. It is true. My lord said only the day before yesterday that very many
books and even entire musical libraries conduct their business with the old
keys [modes]. But tell me. . . .
Prec. Watch out. We will fritter away our time on it. However, I will treat a
154
little of it briefly if I am but first assured that you know how to distinguish
the major sixth from the minor sixth and the major seventh from the minor
seventh, and so on.
Disc. I was able to tell the difference between them already in the first
chapter at the beginning of page 70. For a minor second consists of a half
tone. The major second consists of a whole tone, or two half tones. The
minor third consists of a whole and a half, or three half tones. The major
third consists of two whole or four half tones. The fourth consists of two
whole and one half tones. The augmented fourth consists of three whole
tones (thus called the <tritone>) or six half tones. The fifth consists of three
whole and one half tones, or of seven half tones (which, of course, it is not
necessary to say). The minor sixth consists of four whole tones or eight
half tones. It is possible for me to put even more whole or half tones in
the scale. The major sixth has four and a half tones or nine half notes. The
minor seventh has five whole tones or ten half tones. The major seventh has
five and a half tones or eleven half tones. The octave has six whole tones or
twelve half tones. I will now demonstrate each one with notes.
Prec. That can easily be left at home. I already believe you. Only you should
also rightfully know that we have three kinds of seconds, three kinds of
thirds, three kinds of fourths, three kinds of fifths, three kinds of sixths, and
three kinds of sevenths, as follows:[7]
<?>1

<?>2
15 16

15
This pure, commonplace, and natural fourth is only called “<minor>” in the context of the
<major> fourth, or so-called <tritone>.
16
Many call this the false fifth.
155
Example 360, cont.
You already know <major> and <minor>. <Augmented>, however, means

“overflowing” in German. And <diminished> means “reduced.”17
Disc. From C to D is a whole tone. From D to D\ is a half tone. That makes

one and a half tones. Consequently is the augmented second not unlike the
minor third, which consists, likewise, in one and a half tones?
Prec. Just for that reason such a second is called “excessive” or “superfluous,”
because its intervallum (“interval”) is not different from the minor third.
On the other hand, I cannot call them thirds, because it is based on D. The
latter, however, namely the third, is based on E. Furthermore, if I invert the
[augmented second], it becomes a diminished seventh. If I invert the [minor
third], however, it becomes a major sixth. For example:
Now I transpose the C an octave higher

and leave the D\ below, e.g.
Now I transpose the C an octave higher

and leave the E[ in its place, e.g.
Thus you see here that there is a difference between the given second and
third, because out of one arises a seventh and out of the other arises a sixth.
The inversion is in general to be seen in the following numbers:
12345678
87654321
17
Some say “the smallest” instead of “reduced.” In fact, the one does no harm to the other, as
long as one understands the interval.
156
The octave comes from the unison, the seventh from the second, the sixth
from the third, the fifth from the fourth, on the other hand, the fourth [comes]
from the fifth, the third from the sixth, the second from the seventh, the octave
from the unison.18 Now, what is small [minor] prior to inversion becomes
large [major] by means of inversion. For example, if I invert the minor sixth
from E to C, a major third results. If I invert a major sixth, however, a minor
third results. And so on with all the rest. As follows:
First I transpose the E upward, and then I transpose the C downward. For the
third can be turned into a sixth, just as the sixth can be turned into the third.
[8] Disc. It is all laid clearly before my eyes. In this way I never once have to
count, for example, how many half tones a major or a minor sixth have, for I
only need to look quickly at its inversion as a third.
Prec. I now go back again and say that a minor third is used quite differently
from an augmented second, e.g.
Disc. I see and hear it. The minor third belongs to C minor; the augmented
second, however, belongs to E minor.
Prec. And likewise in the case of a simple melody here, there is, therefore, a
big difference between the two of them in two-, three-, or four-voice harmony
(«chord»), e.g.
18
Unisonus
157
Disc. That is also true. In the first example one comes by means of the
minor third into G [minor], in the other example, however, by means of
the augmented second into E [minor]. Nevertheless, on the keyboard both
«chords» at the ✠ signs are played with the same keys. But tell me, what is
the diminished fourth used for in a «chord»?
Prec. Like the previously written two, it belongs among the chromatic
«chords». It is used, however, very rarely. But its inversion, namely the
augmented fifth, is used even more rarely, and actually, in general, it is
prepared and resolved in the following way, e.g.
Disc. I, myself, believe that the inverted fifth in the second example attacks
my innards a little too sharply. Although, as is shown in the first chapter at
pages 71 and 74, it can also just brighten a simple melody, e.g.
Disc. Wonderful! The normal fifth is, at any rate, much better than its
inversion, the normal forth.
Prec. The augmented sixth is also used often. Its inversion, however, the
diminished third, is cut much too thinly, and is, therefore, of no use. I would
158
scarcely trust myself to include it in a vocal work, even were the text to express
great pain. I will now write out both of them, but only in two voices, e.g.
19
19

[9] In contrast, in a single-voice or simple melody, the diminished third is

better than the augmented sixth, e.g.
20
Disc. You must have forgotten about this augmented sixth in the first chapter.
Admittedly it simply does not sound good. However, what is surprising is
that a seventh is a wider interval than a sixth, that is, the sixth is smaller
and narrower than the seventh. Nevertheless, I notice that the diminished
seventh consists of only four and a half tones, while the augmented sixth has
five whole tones. Therefore, one can, quite correctly, call it “augmented.” I
simply say “five whole tones,” because even if, in a truer accounting, two or
more half tones occur in the scale, I always reckon only two half tones for
one whole tone.
Prec. According to your account, the augmented fifth is likewise nothing

other than the minor sixth. And the diminished fourth nothing other than the
major third. Yet, their application is completely different, which difference
you have already perceived, in part, between the augmented second and the
minor third.
Disc. I already know that, now. Because each one, on account of its particular
key, is lodged with another interval or gap. Of the ninth you need say nothing
to me, for it is only a second doubled [by an octave]. And the tenth is a
third doubled, just as the octave is a unison doubled. Nona means “ninth”
in German. Decima means the “tenth,” namely the tenth note, and so on. It
strikes me, however, as something different. My! Tell me, what do you call
the following six [intervals]?
I write only repeatedly “bene” when it comes to the inverted third.

19
Here I merely say bene [“good”] in connection with the displaced sixth, because these two
20
“good” [intervals] are still used sometimes nowadays.
159
The Urbsstädter names them the way that I have written above and below
each one.
Prec. His «consonances» may well serve the Urbsstädter if he wants to drive
away some mice and rats with them. Otherwise a real composer will always
certainly recoil from them. Or perhaps he wishes to have them understood as
a chromatic melody, e.g.
Here (just as with a hundred similar sharpened ideas, also in the remaining
keys), however, the C\♯ is not considered merely as an octave but more as
a passing note to the D. Likewise also the diminished second (which the
Urbsstädter wanted to decrease) is to be understood. Thus, many cautious
composers would never have written it as above, but rather would have
composed the passage as follows:
I will tell you more about this some other time. However, if I look at the
Urbsstädter’s augmented third, the augmented seventh, and the diminished
sixth, I am reminded that I once used an E double-[ and a C double-\♯ and got
a unison on D out of them. You would not believe what pleasure I got from
that, for I was just fourteen years old.
Disc. That is, therefore, quite different. Otherwise I would have believed the
Urbsstädter concocted his six changelings with the compass.21
21
I will soon have the opportunity to tell the boy that “diatonic” means much more than “with-
out sharps and without flats.”
160
Prec. I am only glad that you know how to distinguish the intervals well.22
[10] Disc. Now I finally know that my lord was incorrect. He calls the large
sixth “<minor>,” and the small one “<major>.”
Prec. Ah, I can perhaps imagine how that came about. Fux, on page 38 of the
Latin version, shows it this way:
It is reversed in just this way because it

should have been in the alto clef, e.g.
The misprint with the tenor clef is also found in the German version. See
Table I, Figure 17.
Disc. I am already thinking about something else that I have recently heard.
Look, un poco lento means “a little bit slow” in German. Allegro, ma non
tanto, or in brief, Non tanto allegro, means “cheerful, but not too much.” Con
brio, means almost the same as con spirito. Afffetuoso or grazioso means
“fetching or charming.” Maestoso, “majestically.” Tenuto or sostenuto,
“sustained”; if, specifically, a quarter, half, or whole note is stroked and held
without interruption with the bow. That tenuto is usually accompanied with
a bit of forte, even if forte is not always expressly marked in such places.
On the other hand, spiccato is executed with the bow almost shorter and
more bouncing than when staccato is marked. Pizzicato means “to pluck
or pick with the fingers,” our neighbor says “dryly.” Con arco, “with bow,”
or the same as coll’arco, “with the bow.” Mezzo forte, “half strongly,” sotto
voce, “under the voice,” the same as mezzo piano or mezza voce, etc. Con
sordino, “with the mute”; we stick or clamp a key with a split comb on the
bridge. Senza sordino, “without mute,” for which some use sciolto, which
means the same as “to take away,” “to unbind,” etc. However, senza sordino
is better known and clearer for us. Crescendo, “growing;” came into the
musical world only a few years ago. Wherever this word is found, the notes
begin piano and they become little by little ever louder, even making a
fortissimo at the end. Dolce, “sweet,” is used often instead of piano, even
if occasionally somewhat sour notes occur thereby. It would be better if
one aimed for a little more than piano and a little less than forte. Many
composers have already observed this. The Lord Choir Superintendent in
Vallethal recently related all of this.
Hereafter, that will serve us also for the old keys.

22
161
Prec. I must also laugh when I see Affetuoso, Maestoso, and several other such
pompous words set down. A composer should rather wait for the comments
of the listeners.
Disc. But listen to me! Now, all of these words (says the Lord Choir
Superintendent) like also violino, violetta, violoncello, etc., are Italian, and
we Germans use them all the time in our music. Why should we be ashamed
to take over also their nomenclature of notes, which they designate as ut, re,
mi, fa, sol, la?
Prec. Now I finally understand your long digression. But you pay attention
to me, too! Six or seven hundred years ago23 this designation was not so
much out of fashion as today, because at that time only a single [ was in use,
namely on B. In order to explain that to you clearly, I will begin with A, e.g.
However, when I go up to the

octave, then the A re is
introduced, e.g.
And now I place a [ on the B, e.g.
Thus I have an A in all three, and one calls it “A la mi re.” Secondly,

because in those days one did not yet say “H,” but rather “B,” the following
occurs, e.g.
When, however, a[ is added

to it, it becomes fa, e.g.
Consequently, one says “B fa mi.”

In the third place, we have to observe two forms of the note C, e.g.
For Guido Aretinus, who thought up the [ added to the B, lived about the year 1024 A.D.
23
162
And with the [, e.g.
[11] On this basis, one can say “C sol fa ut.”

In the fourth place, we take the case of the note D, e.g.
with [
This is called, consequently, “D la sol re”

In the fifth place we turn to E, e.g.
If I place a [ on this scale, nothing more than

a mi stands above or below.
Therefore, I can similarly say “E la mi.”

In the sixth place the note F is treated, e.g.
with [
And that is called “F fa ut.”

Finally you see the note G, e.g.
with [
This is then called “G sol re ut.”
163

Many among the Latins24 are still in the habit of using these designations.
The Italians and the French, however, have partly shortened them and partly
changed them.
Disc. However, one could also speak according to the order, as you have
extracted one thing after another, e.g., A la re mi, B mi fa, C ut fa sol, D re
sol la, etc., etc.
Prec. I have also once, in order to make a little joke, expressed it exactly
as you have done here. However, it seemed to me like someone who has
learned a crude error completely by rote like a parrot. I want to set out all two
or three of the said customs in order for you, e.g.25
Latin Italian French
A la mi re A la re A mi la
B fa mi B fa mi B fa si
C sol fa ut C sol ut C sol ut
D la sol re D la sol D la re
E la mi E la mi E si mi
F fa ut F fa ut F ut fa
G sol re ut G sol re G re sol
Of course, from God we have just as much right to the Italian language as
the Italians themselves. Since we have, more than a [, even a cross (or the
so-called little cross \), these old designations can possibly be proper for our
very numerous keys. The difference between B fa [12] and B mi alone is not
enough. For how will one derive the key of E[ from E la mi, or the key of F\
from F fa ut. You must know that each of our major keys begins with ut, e.g.
24
Not all. Not even all Frenchmen and Italians. There remain those who sit at home. I have
sought after the ut, re, mi, fa, which I, myself, learned in my youth. For almost every school-
master has another manner in which to instruct his boys. One uses do instead of ut. Another
uses a French si instead of mi. All conclusions from this would be superfluous and confused.
25
Because I have found these abbreviated Italian designations only in a very badly written
book, I have doubted them, and I have since found that they do not go back to the Latin
designations.
164
And likewise with all the remaining ones.
Disc. In this connection I have observed that all the major-key scales are
throughout like the key of C.
Prec. Many call them transposed keys for precisely that reason.26
Disc. What do the French and the Italians call these two keys, i.e.
Prec. They call the first E la mi with the [ and <major third>. The other: F
fa ut with the \ and <minor third>. Or also this way: E la mi with <major
third> in the [ key signature. This last [term] we also call in the principal key
signature, or with the tonic note [. And so on for all the other \ key signatures.
26
Modi transpositi. One could leave [Guido of] Arezzo alone with his newly formed keys. Yet
it will be very difficult for anyone to try to compare our minor key with the old one, as we
will soon see.
165
Disc. That is certainly a very boring and awkward designation. We would rather
send it also to Siberia in order to form from it a field cry for the very same hunt.
The Latins, the Italians, and the French use no fewer than A, B, C, D, E, F, and
G, therefore. Why do they still mend this with the ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la, and si?
Prec. Some scribes [retain this] because they do not want to give up the old
custom27 for such an insignificant trifle. Others because they know no reason
for it. Still others because they want to boast and show that they are musical.
Disc. The composers would have done better to do that already at least three
or four hundred years ago (namely, ever since \ and ♭ have been in use), to
designate each major key as ut and each minor key as re, e.g., A ut, B ut, C
ut, D ut, E ut, F ut, G ut, so that it would have not been at all necessary to add
“with the major third.”28 The minor keys would be A re, B re, C re, D re, E re,
F re, G re, and F\ re, so that it would likewise not be necessary to add “with
the minor third.” E[ ut could, according to my lord, be his D sharp.
Prec. You are entirely correct. Only this would be such an unknown novelty
that we would be sent with it to Siberia.
Disc. Then I want to know and hear nothing more at all about the ut, re, mi,
fa. For I find no difficulty in «solmising» with C, F, and G. However, as
soon as a key occurs with several \ and ♭, I may, perhaps, sing a hundred
times mi where fa should be and, on the contrary, a hundred times fa where
mi [13] should be. As long as my lord does not know of any other way to
help himself. Thus the Lord Choir Superintendent recently said that from
now on he does not want to torture the choir boys for such a long time with
«solmization», but rather to impress them correctly with the intervals and
leaps by means of the simple letters, such as A, B, C, thus:
And so that they throughly know every interval in particular, he transposes

these scales into all remaining major keys. Afterward he takes up the minor
keys, and does it once more in that way. NB, however, as a supplemental
support, he teaches them also at the same time on the keyboard. And, finally,
he mixes in \ and ♭, e.g.:
27
I do not dare call such a habit a misuse, since I fear the wicked critics and parodists.
28
Or to express.
166
And in the following way, by which they learn to know the half tones well:
It may have \ or [ in, for example, A, in which case he calls it nothing but A.
And he tells them only that one is hard and the other soft A. And likewise with
B, C, D, E, F, and G. In this way he has already been pleased that they become
as good note-fixers as many who must «solmize» eternally. “To sing a tutti,”
he said recently, “is not at all difficult for them, because a contrapuntist, for
the sake of easiness, does not even dare to write a leap of a major sixth.” A
boy, however, who does not have it naturally within him, he will recommend
that he [the boy] should rather take the plow in hand or learn a craft, or seek
his fortune elsewhere with the quill, etc.
Prec. In fact, he is not wrong. Only our elders29 imagined a different clef in
the case of each (so-called) transposed key.
Disc. How could that be, we really have no more than three clefs, of which
the first, on G, is the violin clef. The second, on F, is the bass clef. The tenor,
alto, and descant clefs all are on C. To these three clefs, G, F, and C, our
Philip still wants to allow a fourth, namely the key (clef) to the [wine] cellar.
Prec. He must merely be a drunken musician. You will know, however, also
that the descant clef puts C on the first line,30 that the alto clef puts C on the
third line, and that the tenor clef puts C on the fourth line. The bass clef F
embraces, likewise, the fourth line. And the violin clef G encircles the second
29
I do not mean the elders who did not yet know about the flat, but rather those who, following
Guido of Arezzo, took the beginning of the Vespers hymn of St. John the Baptist, namely: UT
queant laxis REsonare tibris MIra gestorum FAmult tuorum SOLve polluti LAbii reatum [“So
that your servants may, with loosened voices, resound the wonders of your deeds, clean the
guilt from our stained lips, O Saint John.”]. Some claim that he pulled the names ut, re, mi, fa,
sol, la out of his memory because of the beginnings of these verses.
30
Namely, by counting from lower to higher. Whoever wants to may count the two lower NB
secondary lines downward. I call the five lines together a note-row, whether there are notes on
it or not. The Latins may have always called it the <system>, for all I know.
167
line. If I place the alto clef even lower, namely on the second line, it [the
music] is sung even higher. Thus, the one [i.e., with the F clef on the third
line] is called the “high bass,” and the other is called the “high alto.”
Disc. I have known that for a long time already. The old French even placed their
violin clef G on the first line, so that one in that way must play a third higher
throughout. I first saw this French clef eight days ago in a dusty, old sonata.
Prec. Now, the C of the descant clef is placed on the first line. Why did you
think, however, that a C could be placed also between the first and the second
line?
Disc. I only wanted to imagine that, if that D were the C of the high bass, I
could thus begin as well with ut, re, mi, fa, and certainly without a single \
and [, as if it were my descant’s C. For the C of the high bass comes exactly
between the first and the second line. This imagined transposition would help
me, then, to begin in E or E[ with ut, re, mi, fa, if I imagined the C of the high
alto. My F could be represented by the C of the bass, my G by the C of the
alto, my A by the C of the violin, and my B by the C of the tenor. In order to
offer you my opinion more clearly, I want quickly to write down the currently
used keys in the descant clef and to place the others underneath beginning
with C or with ut, re, mi, fa (which I must only imagine in any case), i.e [14]
168
Prec. Thus, I want only to remember that the elders once created an
indescribable good for young people with these transpositions through clefs.
For how long does it take nowadays for someone like you to learn all the
keys thoroughly? Knowledge of these transpositions would be useful to the
majority of Italian composers,31 who do not know that most hornists and
trumpeters are accustomed to playing in the violin clef and everything in C.32
Disc. It is true. I have already seen many such Italian oddities. Because
writing in C with the violin clef is too artificial for them, they dare only to
transcribe, for example, the horn part for a symphony in A into the descant
clef. Consequently, the hornist would be able to imagine that it were in C in
the violin clef. And so on with all the remaining keys, e.g.
If also in the keys of B[ and E[ a ] and a [ were encountered instead of a \ and

a ], it would present no difficulty.
Prec. You are completely correct in everything. In that way each tonic note
is placed certainly between the third and the fourth line, just as the C of the
violin clef.
31
I do not want to conclude anything about such negligent composers, who never knew how
a trumpet or a horn is played, much less how many pure notes they play. This, however, can
easily be grasped in two or three minutes.
32
They can, for that reason, nevertheless always be as musical as an Italian.
169
Disc. I must confide one more thing to you. Two years ago, a foreign musician
came to us and said, among other things, that he wanted to allow the boys to
<solmize> the octave of a major key no longer as it had been done previously,
namely ut, re, mi, fa, sol, re, mi, fa, but rather approximately like this: ut, re,
mi, fa, sol, la, si, ut. And he wanted this to remain unchanged in all major and
well as minor keys, both ascending and [15] descending (whether or not ♯ or
♭ were in use).
}
It would be as follows:
Key of C, read: ut re mi fa sol la si ut

Key of D, read: re mi fa sol la si ut re
Key of E and E[: mi fa sol la si ut re mi

Key of F: fa sol la si ut re mi fa In major as well as
minor keys.
Key of G: sol la si ut re mi fa sol
Key of A: la si ut re mi fa sol la
Key of B or B[: si ut re mi fa sol la si
Of these, I want to illustrate with notes only E major, E[ and E minor, in order
that you understand me better, e.g.
He is also not incorrect. Even an Aretino [i.e., Guido of Arezzo] of today

would not be able to object to this. But the A B C D E F G can serve us even
in this. Why should one allow such matters to be brought up? We rather want
to rest a little now.
That was, thus, something about the different nomenclatures of the keys.
170
Now finally we want to look at the old keys [i.e., the modes] a little,33 for I
already observe that you know the currently common ones well.
Disc. I hope at least that, for every major key is displayed as is here the key
of C, i.e.
On the other hand, each minor key rises in general with the major sixth and
major seventh, but descends with the minor seventh and minor sixth, e.g.
I say “in general” because one can descend sometimes with the major seventh
and minor sixth, especially in a simple and not especially swift melody, e.g.
[16] With rapidly running notes, if the upper C comes on the down-beat, it
would certainly be much better in the following way, i.e.
If I do not go stepwise up from the G, or even from the lower C, I need only
the minor sixth, both in a many-voiced piece as well as in a simple melody,
e.g.
Everything that I have said and written up to now came about because of these old keys. The
33
boy will not unlock all of it now just because he finally has the key to it. I will merely help
him a little.
171
Consequently, I want to observe shortly to what extent the old keys are
different from ours.
Prec. I will set them out, one after the other.
Now, the first, Dorian Mode (Modus Dorius), which was particular to the
Dorians, and from which people it has its name, Dorius, just as the Phrygius
from the Phrygians, the Lydius from the Lydians, and. . . .
Disc. Please be still! If I exclude just the sixth, Ionian mode, which precisely
overlaps with our C, and, on the other hand, the fifth, Aeolian, descending, I find
no others that are comparable to our modern tonalities. I must laugh heartily
about the Phrygian mode, E with the minor third, because they didn’t yet know
to put a \ on the F. I must also laugh at the Lydian mode, F, because it lacks the
B flat and thus can have no proper fourth. In short, why are we concerned about
the miserable conditions of the elders? Always to Siberia with it!
Prec. Only not too heatedly! It is true, of course, that the old keys (C
excepted) will no longer be in use in this world.34 Fux, of course, did not
34
Because I do not see how it would go otherwise. It would certainly not be humanly possible
[for them to be in use].
172
completely reject the modes and even has their transpositions in his treatise
in Latin, page 222, and in German, page 159, Table 42. However, I have
never seen in his polyphonic compositions for church anything of the sort.
For whomever does not believe me, I could [17] place in evidence before his
eyes two of his last Requiem Masses (which I still have on hand).35
Disc. How, then, does he write out his examples in order to teach counterpoint?
Prec. Often in the old modes. And exactly this makes many beginners
annoyed over this treatise of his, because they occasionally cannot discover a
regular melody in it. At the same time, he sometimes does use \ and [ in the
midst of them.
Disc. My lord notates the key of D minor with no [ at the beginning. Perhaps
he only wants to pay his respects to antiquity. He overlooked that fact that in
the middle he uses [ and \ quite diligently and frequently.
Prec. Your lord is not the only one who has deceived himself thus. Fux,
however, only wanted to teach us about the old modes in his treatise, and by
using the \ and [ in the process, he has shown us that the elders must have
produced necessarily bad melodies.
Disc. I would have liked to hear an opera in the Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian,
and Mixolydian modes! How long has it been since these keys were in use?
Prec. About 3000 years.36
Disc. In this way [Guido of] Arezzo, with his [ and natural signs ], came to
it later. By the way, I hope and almost sense that you will shortly explain the
rules of counterpoint to me according to the precepts of our present-day keys.
35
One certainly cannot envy the choralists for their old modes. Only I advise that no one dare
to say that one cannot compose as sadly and movingly (pathetically) with today’s keys. Oth-
erwise, he could easily be taken to school by a discantist and be shown by him the abundance
of counterexamples. I do not write this without cause and prior knowledge. One need merely
listen to one or another Requiem by Fux.
36
The historians, themselves, do not always understand one another well. Rather, they gener-
ally only know best what they observe and comprehend. The double \ and the simple ` were
invented long after Guido of Arezzo. Whereby take note that the ` was named and written
“simply” because it divided a half tone into two quarter tones; consequently it belongs to the
enharmonic genre. We, however, need it today for the raising of a complete half tone, as with
the double \ itself. And precisely for the sake of clarity, on the same note that has already been
raised by means of the \. On the other hand, some say that because the ` to some extent doubly
raises the pitch, so should the \ be written only singly rather than doubly. It is just better if one
does not think about it at all.
173
Prec. Indeed. There are also adequate reasons for this.
Disc. Our elders, therefore, had six modes; we, however, have only two.
Prec. You are making a fundamentally wrong leap. For the old Dorians had
only one wretched mode, the old Phrygians had only one, and the old Lydians
likewise had only one, all of which were gathered up into one heap according
to the [Guidonian] hand. We, on the contrary, have two graceful, clear, and
perfect modes, with which we can live and die.
Disc. My lord, however, said once that each old mode possessed an individual
and particular power to draw the emotions, such as love, hate, fear, courage,
etc., out of the human innards.
Prec. He might sooner have said, “to coax out something different.” I know
well that many people try to fill out their writings with such tomfoolery. It is,
however, absolute self-delusion.
Disc. Ay! If you will put away your anger, I will say nothing more about of
the elders. You will have to confess, however, that our D major is livelier than
C major.
Prec. The violins are the cause of that, because their open strings D, A, and E
always valiantly help there with their sound, e.g.
In the key of C, on the other hand, the strings are more restricted by finger
pressure, e.g.
In C minor, the strings are even more restricted, e.g.
174
Because the modulation here can also happen on the fifth, G, a couple of open
strings can sometimes come into play.
[18] Thus, this key is also a little fresher than F minor. However, the situation
might halfway be reversed, as you will soon hear. Indeed, you yourself can
probably give me something like this. Now, in which key to you prefer to sing?
Disc. Last year, I preferred to sing in A. These days, however, I prefer to

sing in G, because I not only have the perfect fifth, D, above and below, but
I always have a few additional notes, so that I can complete the octave when
needs be, e.g.
It is true that the disposition of this key is just right for me. For if I sing alone,
without any violin accompanying, this seems to be the most cheerful of all the
keys. An alto, who does not easily sing so high, may seem most cheerful in C.
Prec. The choral writers chose D as their first key.
Disc. I believe that it is a principle key for them because in it the bass and
tenor can scream together valiantly, if needs be. However, the tenor will have
to drink more brown beer if he wants to properly bring out the depths.
Prec. I do not know whether my ear deceives itself if the violins, playing in B
flat, come across as more lively because of this comfortable range, e.g.
175
than the key of F, in spite of the fact that the latter has only one ♭.
Disc. I even believe that B flat with violins could be more lively than D
itself if the strings would not be stopped in it. But listen! On an organ I will
immediately distinguish between D minor and F minor, even if I don’t stand
near it when my lord plays on it.
Prec. But listen! Were your organ tempered according to the drawing compass
throughout all the fifths, thirds, etc., that is, quite purely tuned, then I would
grant that you might distinguish [the keys] any day of the year. In addition
to which, you could casually investigate the highness or lowness (secretly
singing) with your voice. In short, I once heard two bands of oboists play, one
in C with small, so-called «cornet»-oboes,37 and the other in D with so-called
French oboes, so that the C and the D had the same tuning. I assure you and
your lord that the C seems to me almost more lively than the D. NB: There
were no violins present. Only one of the witnesses held the opposite opinion,
because he presented himself as a composer and had already written many
convoluted books about such things.
Disc. I would not have been able to look at him without laughing to myself.
Look, now something else occurs to me. Recently I have heard three violin
concertos played, of which the first was in A minor, the second in B [minor],
and the third in E-flat [major],like these, e.g.,
The first two seemed to me lively and far sharper than the last. Here also
the open strings may have contributed to that. My lord, on the other hand,
37
Cornetto. This instrument is generally used in church, pitched in the high Chorton, to rein-
force the discant voice in a tutti. Chorastro is not as high as Chorton, as an Italian recently
wanted to explain to me. The French or so-called Kammerton is a whole tone lower than the
Chorton. There is, however, another distinction to be made in all of this: in many places the
Chorton is taken to be a whole tone lower than the Cornet-Ton.
176
calls the first two keys “soft,” and the last one “hard,” exactly the reverse.
Moreover, it is clear that a lively text requires a lively key, and a sad text a
sad key. E♭, moreover, may not be ill-suited to setting an angry text, if one
makes the music Allegro or Presto.
[19]
Prec. One should only make no rule about it. For I have even recently seen a
sad text belonging to an aria in D major, and, in fact, by a great master to be
sure. The aria was made to go very slowly, and there were horns in it.
Disc. Perhaps the text was of the following content: “Alas, ye gods! Such
pain has oppressed me, that I had to leave that place where I have enjoyed so
much happiness.” I will not even say that he has stolen in this place. Such
considerations may have been used unerringly by that artful violinist (who
passed through here a few years ago). According to reports, he knew how to
move his listeners now to crying, now to laughing and merriment. To draw
out happiness, he surely must have played on his violin in D major, and . . .
Prec. I was told about him, however, that he, himself, always began to weep
quietly beforehand, so that he really shed tears. Afterwards he began to make
such strange and absurd gestures with his mouth, nose, and eyes, that only
an ape or only an ass can be compared. In short, his art was that he put both
crying and laughing together into one bag, like women. Tricks may even
have helped him to engender crying.
Disc. I have also seen many musicians put on quaint monkeyshines. Our Philip,
however, learned from an Italian to stand always industriously in front of a mirror
in order to examine himself up and down, to see whether violin playing suited him
well or badly. He even knows how to take and hold the violin and the bow in his
hand mathematically. This concerns me not at all, but it reminds me of something
else. I know well that the Dorians, Phrygians, Lydians, etc., possessed only the
diatonic genre (genus diatonicum), namely that without any sharps or flats. Explain
to me, however, the <chromatic genre> and the <enharmonic genre>.
Prec. The chromatic genre38 was invented long ago so that one could have all
the half tones in the scale, i.e.
38
At one time this Greek word (chromaticon) may have originally meant “a color,” such as
black or white. Not even a thousand Greeks know this themselves. At any rate, the explana-
tions of such a name in musical books are aimed at puffery rather than usefulness. Besides
which, I place the flat among this as well, regardless of the fact that Fux only uses the sharp
in his [chromatic] scale.
177
At the time when this genre was invented, a musician sought to develop it, I
no longer know in what Greek city, in the hope of pulling together something
extraordinary from it. However, he had hardly begun to show them how much
the state and fatherland depended upon this genre, when he was expelled
through the other gate, because the citizens alleged that the people could
easily be led into villainy by this desperate genre. Now to recall something
about the enharmonic genre,39 you must know that long ago, likewise, there
were curious people, among them those who snatched at novelty. An impish
musician40 at that time further divided all the half tones in the scale (except
for step from A to B natural), so that actual quarter tones were to be perceived.
For example, between B and C he stuck a quarter tone notated by a simple ✠,
and so nothing but quarter tones sounded all the way up to the octave.
Disc. One should really have given that the broom.
Prec. Be still! It is this confused genre that was abolished anyway.
Disc. I believe it. Otherwise the people would have been able to become even
more evil than they were.
Prec. Since then, the diatonic and chromatic have been mixed together, so
that today both are happily used at the same time, and neither the words
diatonic, chromatic, nor enharmonic are needed any longer.
Disc. I know that well, because the \ and the [ always run along together, e.g.
39
This word enharmonicum may be derived in the Greek language directly from “harmony”
or “polyphony,” so that we maintain the contrary only cautiously. Otherwise we might spend
time as uselessly as some do.
40
However, it would not be worth the effort of seeking out his name, the year, the day, and the
hour. Additionally, I am very skeptical of many pieces.
178
Our E minor is written the way, i.e.
The Phrygians, however, could not have composed anything but the diatonic, i.e.
[20] If now, however, a present-day composer, for example, begins a fugue in

the old modes and then, in the middle, uses a \ or [ in the continuation, such
a fugue is certainly no longer Lydian, Dorian, Phrygian, etc. For all of these
modes certainly had not a single sharp or flat.
Prec. And who can doubt that?41
Disc. I understand it. That means, I want it very much and cannot [have it].
One more thing. If we no longer have need of the word chromatic, why is
it heard so often, “That is a chromatic hand position on the organ; such and
such a piece is a very chromatic?”
Prec. You are also correct once more. Only we want to speak about it
tomorrow and take a breather now. That was therefore something about
our keys and the old keys [modes].
❁
Disc. Yet another things occurs to me. Hansmichel is now learning how to
compose mathematically from the Urbsstädter. On Saturday he entrusted me
[with the knowledge of] how one should tune the harpsichord. I now let all
the fifths hover downward, that is, I do not tune them sharply and purely
but rather imperceptibly lower. I begin with C, and I tune all the Cs on the
harpsichord purely. Then, as I have said, I add a slightly lowered fifth, G,
and tune all the Gs to this purely. To the G I add the fifth D, likewise sunk
41
I must, however, leave the boy a small delight sometimes.
179
downward, and immediately all the other fifths. In this way I have tuned
my harpsichord, just yesterday, within only four to five minutes altogether.
Whoever does not know this advantage and tunes the fifths completely purely,
will certainly spend a half day on it and in the end his harpsichord will sound
fundamentally out of tune in most of the keys. I have unfortunately found this
to be the case quite often. Our organ actually does not sound in the key of E
flat differently from wolves howling together. The day before yesterday, on
the harpsichord that I had begun to tune, I let the fifths hover a little bit too
much downward, for in order to tune the octaves properly, various fifths still
had to be tuned purely. This, of course, may not exactly be a crime of high
treason. Only I consider it better if one arranges the vibration so finely and
sparingly that all the fifths become identical one to another throughout. On
the basis of such a tuning, the fourths as well as the major thirds and their
inversions, the minor sixths, will have nothing wrong with them. Hansmichel
now foolishly wants to enlighten me about this. It is strange, in this regard,
that the Urbsstädter himself cannot tune a harpsichord, because he by nature
does not have a good ear.
Prec. However, other temperaments have been brooded about these days.42
Disc. What does “temperament” mean?
Prec. To temper or to moderate is simply when an organ or a harpsichord is

tuned as you have learned from Hansmichel. From this you must conclude that
the scale is not pure within the octave. For a singer by himself can always sing
purely, and a violinist (if he has a good ear otherwise) can play purely, because
they can simply allow the intervals to vacillate upward or downward. But an
organist or a harpsichordist must play the way the instrument has been tuned.
Disc. Now I have noticed something. Our Philip, while playing, lets all the
major thirds hover upward and all the minor seconds hover downward, e.g.,
C against B, F against E, G against F sharp, etc. And this manner of his
pleases me very much, particularly in an Adagio. Perhaps a violinist should
let his fifths hover downward when playing with a harpsichord or an organ,
in order to be better in tune with them?
However, I want to explain nothing further about it to the boy, because it is of no use to our
42
purposes. Should he, in time, become an organ builder, however, then he, himself, would cast
about for such books. For me, perhaps, the best among them are the least well known.
180
Prec. I must certainly agree with your opinion. But with a trumpet, a violinist
would have to tune the fifth E rather higher than lower, because the F of the
trumpet on the fifth line is, by nature, always sharp and not pure. Consequently
the F of the violin would clash with it badly.
Disc. That is, therefore, only confused housekeeping. I will tune my violin as
before and would rather make a greater effort to finger it all the more purely.
Prec. Be that as it may, we must be happy and thankful that the organ builders
let us hear better temperaments from time to time.
Disc. How was temperament invented, then?
[21] Prec. By dint of mathematically rational calculation?43 For you know

that a whole tone can be divided into two half tones. You have heard also that
in the enharmonic genre a tone can even be divided into quarter tones.
Disc. My lord still has an old harpsichord at home up in the attic that had its
keys divided also into quarter tones. I can recognize a half tone very easily, of
course, but a quarter tone would be a little indistinct for my ears, for someone
could easily fool me into thinking it to be a fifth tone.
Prec. Therefore know that a whole tone can be divided not only into eighth
tones but even into a hundred or even into a thousand parts.44 This, however,
is not carried out with the hearing but rather with compasses and numbers.
Disc. I would like an example of that.
Prec. Now, how far does the sound of a string of a violin, viola, or violoncello
vibrate when the bow is drawn across it? Is it not from the bridge45 to the
nut?46 What I call the nut, as opposed to the scroll,47 is the small, very low
little bridge at the end of the neck, whereupon the strings lie.
43
Of course, one still doubts whether Jubal, in order to perform table music on [Tubalcain’s]
name day, tuned the hammer and iron rod of his [half-]brother Tubalcain as purely, or even
more purely together, as the Urbsstädter tuned his harpsichord with all of his mathematically
rational calculation.
44
I purposely want to name no larger number in order not to frighten the boy.
45
The “bridge” is called the “saddle” in many countries.
46
I often call it Boanl, similarly Bainel, or Beinlein [“little bone”], because it is often made of
a support bone.
47
In other places, “screws.”
181
Disc. You are really wonderful. For above this little bridge and beyond the
[larger] bridge the string certainly cannot vibrate. You mean, therefore, that
the string from the nut to the end is just as long as the neck, right?
Prec. That is right. Now, take a violin or a viola, or, (better yet) a violoncello,
and lay it down on the table with the neck to the left and the body, where the
bridge is placed, to the right.
Disc. I understand. But for the past two years our violoncello has had only
one string.
Prec. Even so. For now we do not need anything more. Then take or cut off
a piece of twine just as long as the string from the bridge up to the said nut.
Imagine that such a string or length of twine is a unison, be the note a C, D,
or E, etc.
Disc. Since it is all the same, I will let the open string stand for C. What now?
Prec. Next cut the twine in two, take one of the two parts, and stretch it out
on the string of the violoncello from the bridge, say from right to left. Thus
the twine will reach halfway along the string.48
Disc. That is quite natural. What follows from this?
Prec. Exactly at this half-way point, place the finger of the left hand firmly
upon the string and stroke the string with the bow in the right hand, so that
you hear the octave C above the open C.
Disc. Is that possible? In this way, an open, sounding string divided in the
middle gives an octave?
Prec. Nothing but. If you then cut the remaining part of this twine once again
into halves, so that it makes a quarter of the full length of the twine, then you
can in the same way hear a second octave above the open C string. The eighth
part of the string length will consequently give you a third octave, etc.
Disc. I will immediately try that tomorrow at home.
One could, of course, also measure from the left to the right. That would be the same, if the
48
violoncello were placed on the table with the neck to the right and the bridge to the left. How-
ever, I must present the boy with a certainty, so that I do not confuse him.
182
Prec. Further it is worth knowing that the unison is represented by 1. The

octave by 2:1. The double octave by 4:1. The triple octave by 8:1
Disc. That seems to me to be quite natural, because I can make the triple
octave with a 1/8 length of twine, a double octave with a 1/4 length of twine,
and a single octave with a 1/2 length of twine. Will one be able, however, to
produce other intervals in such a fashion?
Prec. Of course. All intervals without exception. For example, take a quarter
of the string or a half-length of twine, place that quarter three times on the
string toward the left hand, and put your finger and bow on it: thus you will
have a fourth on the right hand. This fourth is designated with numbers as
4:3, or 3/4 of the length of twine. Further, take a new piece of twine, that is,
a new string-length piece, and cut it into three equal parts, so that two of
these parts, placed in the same manner on the right, makes the fifth sound.
Its numbers are 3:2, or 2/3 of the twine. A length of twine cut likewise in five
equal parts, of which four parts are taken, gives the major third.
Disc. Would you be so good as to divide an entire octave by these numbers. I

want to measure this quickly at home.
Prec. Why not? Just look:
[22]Unison, or open string 1 The fifth 3:2

The second, or large tone 9:8 The major sixth 5:3
The major third 5:4 The major seventh 15:8
The fourth 4:3 The octave 2:1
Disc. I see clearly that for the major second I must cut the twine into nine
equal parts and use eight of them to measure. But why have you added “or
the large tone?”
Prec. In the first place, you know that the major second from the unison,
say, counting from the bass note forms a whole tone, and exactly in this
way the word “tone” is distinguished from the word “tonality.” How much
one is accustomed to say that D major is a lively tonality, etc. On the other
hand, 9:8 is too high, sharp, and impure. Thus, some people define this ma-
jor second as 10:9, which is called the small tone. Now because this 10:9
is too small or flat and, on the contrary, 9:8 is too large, so must one here,
in order to find the middle between the two, come to the rescue with
183
fractions.49 Measure away, you will hear it. And so it goes also with the in-
tervals that one wants to temper upward or downward.
Disc. Our neighbor Hanserl sang all notes so flat that it was secretly so painful
to me that I actually often wanted to help him with a screw-jack. And when
my lord sometimes wanted to raise his pitch by pulling on his ears, then he
screamed a half-step too high. Would one not have been able to correct him
with such fractional numbers from rational calculation?
Prec. No.50 It is already in the blood, like the false fingering of many
instrumentalists. For I have known similar old singers who were very fine
excepting this fault of nature.
Disc. If, however, such a singer pleads that he sang according to the
downward-tending rational calculation?
Prec. He neither knows nor believes, for all eternity, that he sings too low.
I will give you an analogy. Someone who from birth onward has no regular
beat in his head will always beat in time to the music and will tap his foot.
Why? He thinks the other people are wrong and are confusing him, just as
an intoxicated man holds the other people to be drunkards. Years ago, many
Italians stomped their feet heavily in the theater51 to correct the orchestra.52
They did it, however, only to conceal their ignorance and error53 and,
consequently, to put down people who have learned what is right. For this
reason, they are at present certainly believed little or not at all in Germany.54
49
I do not want alert the boy to the so-called comma, 81:80, much less its abundant comrades.
50
<Nobody can deny what nature gave.>
51
Theatrum, a stage.
52
Orchestra: the place in front of the theater. By this, however, is generally understood as a
kind of strongly reinforced instrumental ensemble.
53
<One’s destruction is another’s birth.>
54
One hears, however, what an Italian, himself, said, namely the count Santi Pupieni, in the
first volume of his critical letters, page 74, line 27. It says, “Today the title of virtuoso is given
paradoxically to female and male singers, especially to castrati, although they are the most ar-
rogant, lascivious, and ignorant people on earth, etc.” However, if he understood more of them
in the world than he had met, he, himself, must have been certainly the biggest ignoramus in
the world: that in Germany a nation is to be found where there are people who yield nothing
to the most cunning Italians, such a man cannot know.
184
Disc. If only there were not such disloyal and impudent flatterers in our
midst! But because one can let the open string stand for a C, D, E, F, G, A, or
B, would you not want to put the following numbers on the following scale
for me, i.e.
Prec. You should have said that to me right away at the beginning. Now look:
Unison 1 Fifth 3:2

Octave 2:1 Fourth 4:3
Minor seventh 9:5 Minor third 6:5
Minor sixth 8:5 Second, or small step 10:9
Unison 1
[23] However, if you would want to set out this scale on the same open string
an octave higher, then it looks like this:
Octave 2:1 Double fifth 3:1

Double octave 4:1 Double fourth 8:3
Double minor seventh 18:5 Double minor third 12:5
Double minor sixth 16:5 Double major ninth 9:4
Octave 2:1
Fux designated the double minor seventh (septimam minorem compositam)

with the numbers 9:5, which misprint Dr. Mitzler has overlooked.55 See in the
Latin edition, page 33, and in the German, page 51. There is really no shame
in that. If today or tomorrow you find some completely idle and boring hours
for this, you can, in order to save twine, also measure the intervals at your lei-
sure on the violin with a ruler made out of paper. I, however, stretched a wire
on a yard-long plank instead of on a violoncello, violin, etc., a little raised so
that it could be sounded. Such a plank is called a monochord (monochordon),
because it is an instrument with one string. Some time later I gave the plank
to a carpenter to have it fitted with underbody and sides and also with seven
tuning screws to draw seven strings. This was, therefore, a heptachordon, or
a seven-stringer. Then I tuned all seven strings in unison together purely, so
that I could mark all the half, third, fourth parts, etc., upon each particular
55
Yet it is already enough that he should have had the goodness to translate this splendid book
into German.
185
string on the plank. For this purpose I bought a compass (instead of a length
of twine). I also had at the time about a dozen rational calculation books lying
around in order to consult them. However, I soon grew tired of the compass
and ruler.56
Disc. It is wonderful and again wonderful that one can measure pitches and
can point to them from a distance with fingers. Can one, however, produce
harmony, let us say a full-voiced song, with twine or compass?
Prec. Yes, indeed. But one must first already know what a harmony is.57
Disc. But one cannot prove with the compass why, for example, the fourth
is resolved to the third. Why does a twosome generally work better than a
threesome in metric order? Why does one create variations in tonal order just
so and not otherwise?
Prec. No, I say to you. For I have explored [the topic] and must now regret
the time that I have spent on it uselessly. At the same time, I will gladly
grant such an undertaking to a person who receives both his meals and his
livelihood directly from God, in order to avoid idleness to some extent.
Disc. There are, however, credible people and books that announce explicitly
that one can compose mathematically without understanding music
beforehand or without having learned to compose.
Prec. I assure you, however, on my honor: [that stance] is fundamentally

wrong, and there is no truth in it.58 I know well that there are such foolish
Passau-Angels who let themselves be burdened by such mythologies. Years
ago I deplored that scholar who could produce various harmonious intervals
from the relationships of the numbers in architecture. Namely, he took 1:1,
2:1, 3:1, 4:1, 5:1, 6:1. Then also 3:2, 4:2, 5:2, 6:2, as no less 4:3, 5:3, 6:3.
However, as he also wanted to use 3:2, 5:4, 6:5. and 5:4, 6:4, 7:4, likewise
56
Because, beyond admiration, I found nothing else.
57
Some mathematicians can certainly, at least, give a plausible explanation for a new mechani-
cal trick, which another, who is naturally born to it, has discovered.
58
I have certainly also often heard it said. In fact, two impressive men once persuaded me that
they happened to know one such knowledgeable composer. However, once I began most humbly
to wait upon him [the composer] and took the opportunity to ask him about it, he began to smile
and entrusted me with the matter, by which it came to this false rumor. I would not have the boy
read so much of this material or even to read anything at all, if I were not so often affected by
such misconceived works. I consider myself bound by my own conscience, in this respect, to
warn the poor boy so that he can deal with this fellow cleanly and with caution in the future.
186
5:3, 7:5, 9:7, and could not thereby derive any shadow of harmony, he became
sick over it and died.59 What is funny about this is that there are people
who since then maintain and swear by stone and bone that he was able to
compose. There is, of course, certainly a difference between composing and
composing, just as between painting and painting. Even little children can
compose as well as paint. For compose generally means merely “to sweep
together.”
Disc. With your permission, another completely different joke occurs to me just
now: our Philip was so angry in the court tavern that he became sick about it.
For the Urbsstädter said there publicly that the harpsichord was the emperor of
all instruments and that the violin and other such instruments, on the contrary,
could be considered only as underlings and servants because they have no full
harmony. Philip answered this in the greatest heat, thus: I know quite well that
not only you, my lord, but all harpsichordists without exception, NB, whom
I know, are blinded with these arrogant thoughts. But they should consider
that a harpsichordist owes a considerable part to the skill of he who purely
tunes the harpsichord. [24] A violinist, by contrast, must study a very long time
before he learns to finger purely. Also, one cannot know immediately whether
a harpsichordist is born with an innate sense of harmony, until he shows, in a
violin concerto, that he does not finger incorrectly. A violinist can play fifths
purely; they, my lord, must let them slide downward. Do you, perhaps, have
reason to be arrogant because you can put down ten fingers at once and let both
hands help each other? Now on the common harpsichord, where are the held
notes? Where are the forte and the piano? After all, these make up a key part of
a song? Not withstanding this, I tend to attribute more skill to their instrument
than they themselves do. Hopefully they will consider it no special skill to have
selected this instrument in preference to others, or perhaps had to select it for the
sake of [earning] bread. In short, you really have no good reason to call us violinists
“scratchers,” if you do not want to be called a “rattle.” My lord! Learn rather to
compose better violin pieces, for your creations are so offensive to play that one. . . .
Prec. Alas, such base squabbling! I know, here, a young person who squeezes
out with the Jew’s harp60 the most artful songs as clearly as one could ever
wish. And, in consideration of his instrument, I consider him to be a far more
59
His symmetria and eurhythmia would, for a certain reason, likewise have helped him very
little with this.
60
Called “mouth harp” by some.
61
The boy would have me come around with this corny story, because I myself play a little
violin and harpsichord when necessary.
187
capable master than the Urbsstädter and Philip.61 To return, however, to our
previous conversation, I also regret the misery of those who call themselves
compositores theoreticos,62 and on the title pages of their books allege that
the kernel of composition is to be learned only from rational calculation.
Disc. These are even worse than the pickpocket, because one loses both time
and money in addition to one’s effort. The desperate compass harmonists!
But, but, what does Fux think of this?
Prec. He agrees with the Roman orator,63 who says, “One should not apply
too much industry and put too much work into obscure things that are
not useful.” See in the Latin edition on page 34 and in the German on page
51. Thus I am surprised that a foreign but otherwise very famous composer
did not deviate from composition until in his old age and dragged himself
into his grave with rational calculation.
Disc. That is really astonishing. Otherwise I would almost have formed the
suspicion that all compass harmonists sought to improve only their poor
natural talent for music by means of rational calculation. But when and by
whom was rational calculation invented?
Prec. By Pythagoras, who lived about 530 years before the birth of Christ.
Disc. Did the Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, etc. also have this rational calculation?
Prec. No. For I only know at this point that the Lydian mode was already
common 688 years before this invention.64
Disc. Thus one should have chased away Pythagoras.
Prec. Not on your life! We must be ashamed, rather, to honor him, an

unbelieving heathen, as having discovered a miracle of the creator. Dydimus,
62
Theoria, mere consideration without real practice. For one can consider the rational num-
bers of harpsichord tuning without being able to tune the harpsichord purely. Another theory
or consideration belongs to composition, which, however, must always be tied properly to
practice (praxi). One perceives this connection in the compositions of the greatest and most
famous masters.
63
Cicero.
64
<As the rule of the Lydians began in the year 2835> [B.C.]. Pridle Non. Dec. Consumto prando.
65
Of course, many want to maintain that Zarlino was the first one who improved the tempera-
ment of Pythagoras. It is of no consequence to me, beyond the fact that I gladly give this honor
to Dydimus, for it really means the cattle of darkness are smarter than the cattle of the light.
188
likewise a heathen, improved Pythagoras’s tuning only 500 years afterward.65

For he flourished 38 years before the birth of Christ. This Dydimus is said to
have written 4,000 books.
Disc. Then either he must have lived very long, if the books were large, or
else the books must not have been of much worth.
Prec. Could he, then, not also have copied off some other books, like the
majority of compass harmonists do? I say the majority and not all. For we
must prop up one or another of them so much that we are never in a position
of having to untie their shoe laces.66
Disc. I believe everything you say. Had he only explained temperament in

writing fundamentally, clearly, and more concisely (as you are doing for
composition). At least I would like to have some small understanding of
it. But first a question: Our Hansmichel knows how to say so many Latin
names that he immediately makes me feel bad, because I can neither answer
him nor learn anything from it. He calls, for example, the octave diapason,
the fifth diapente, the fourth diatesseron, the sixth hexachordon, the seventh
heptachordon, etc.
Prec. These are actually Greek.
Disc. However, I also mean the following, e.g., supertredecimpartiens-tri-

gesimas-duas, superoctodecimpartiens-quadragesimas-quintas, and several
hundred of the like, none of which can I find in my grammar, which I must
study at home. Is perhaps something hidden behind such names?
Prec. You are not clever. There is no more hidden behind it that than there
would be if I called a poodle “Perucca” and his trimmed tail “Apostroso.”
In this case Hansmichl is, consequently, too clever by half as those in one or
another country who foster the habit of saying, “He is a cellist,” instead of
“He is a [25] violinist.” It is perhaps already enough for these people if they
only find chelys defined as a fiddle67 in the Frisii dictionary. Yet at the same
time, the Greek word chelys means “tortoise shell” in German. To be sure,
the violin has much similarity with a tortoise shell; a lute, however, has even
more. For that reason a lute is called testudo in Latin.
66
I did not know why I should make myself their enemy for nothing and concerning nothing.
67
Fides. Which also certainly means also only the strings themselves. The French name the vi-
olin according to the Italian augmentative, violone. For that reason one could almost think that
they came to it with their music very late, because they write and say violon instead of violino.
189
Disc. How beautiful would it not be if each person stuck to a single language!
For my lord, himself, always says, “Many languages, little learning.” Lord
von Brunnborn, the son of our gracious lord judge, speaks Latin all the
time, for he was recently newly minted as a doctor. On the contrary, our
village quack cannot cure people other than in German. The latter, on the
strength of his profession a very eloquent gentleman, continually burdens
the former with doubts. Only yesterday he asked him again whether the life
spirits manipulate the fruit only with fingers or with another instrument,
or whether it performs such a furious conceit by itself as when a woman
sometimes misjudges, just as, unfortunately, happened to my mother, who
prophesied it four months ahead of time? And why an egg becomes hard
when cooked, while, on the contrary, other food becomes soft? Whether the
goldsmiths, perhaps, even call their aurum putabile for that reason among
others a philosophical egg? He wants to conceive only a halfway reasonable
explanation of these and a thousand other questions, for he believes, anyhow,
that no like-minded scholar in the world knows a genuine razzionem fisicam,
etc. Lord von Brunnborn interrupted after this: “It would be easier for him
without exception to dispute about all the sciences with his fellows in Latin
for fourteen days one after the other than to resolve and to answer a single
such bad question in German.”
Prec. Shame on you! You are much more garrulous than your barber outside.
Our conversation up to now was only about the twine.
❁
Disc. But may I not rub one and another thing under the nose of the Urbsstädter
in the future? For he holds himself above the greatest masters, who do not have
the time to make themselves familiar with the compass. In addition, he has
written an entire musical name book or dictionary, in which he gathers all the
musical deeds, e.g., of my lord and of a thousand others like him, whose births,
lives, and deaths are told in great detail. Only he either leaves out the widely
famous chapel master in Opolisburg and many other upright musicians, or he
looks for nothing at all praiseworthy by which to remember them.
Prec. And why are you worried about a big man, you small boy, even if a
mosquito bites him on the sole of his foot?
Disc. However, he would have without fail put you in the dictionary, too,
had he in fact not had so many issues with the first chapter. For he recently
laughed again even about the round Θ, which sign since then has already
190
191
often put me in mind of a new theme. With whatever difficulty this invention
poses, I will exert all the more industry on it, although it cost me a whole
bundle of paper. For I notice that in composition, as also in music generally,
one can set everything right with variations.
Prec. One does not have to be so wasteful with paper, either. You seem to me
just like that physician to whom the commander, in whose service he was,
said, “He should go to each of the other commanders with help and advice in
hand. Because of a completely unknown plague in the barracks, alas, many
soldiers have already died of it.” The former answered, “Your Excellency, do
not trouble yourself about it; I will determine the cause of the sickness, even
were the entire army to succumb to it.”68 Now I will explain the round sign Θ,
by which the art of permutation69 was understood in the first chapter. I know
well that you also learned to multiply from your lord in school. Perhaps,
however, the following multiplication, etc., and duplication is not yet known
to you [Example 418]. Your first name is Jacob, and your surname is Rab.
Now Rab has three letters, namely R, a, and b, which three letters can be
changed around in six ways. For I might say on account of multiplication:
1 times 1 is 1. And thus 1 cannot be rearranged. I say, however, 2 times 1 is
2; thus I see that 2 can be rearranged in two ways. For example, ra and ar. I
say, 3 times 2 are 6, which elucidates why, for example, the three letters in
your surname can be rearranged in six ways: rab, rba, arb, abr, bra, and bar.
In order to spare you, I will undertake to multiply out the numbers from 1
to 50, shown [in Example 418], in order to demonstrate the numbers that
result from multiplying, as shown on the left hand. [26] Whether this table of
numbers is called Encyclopedia, or the key to all sciences, or whether one or
another Sophus holds it in contempt, or whether the recently published very
important Cyclopedie or Encyclopedia has opened the eyes of many again or
closed them even more completely, I do not even want to know. I only know
what it has done for me and that it has been of the greatest service.
[27]
Disc. Thus, in this type of multiplication, I must once again multiply what
results on the left hand by the number following on the right hand and say: 1
times 1 is 1, 2 times 1 are 2, 3 times 2 make 6, 4 times 6 make 24, 5 times 24
make 120, 6 times 120 make 720, etc.?
Ut refert D. Wunger Tymp Tatisp.

68
Ars permutatoria. De arte combinatoria, or, the art of combination, of which I will relate
69
something tomorrow.
192
Prec. Quite so. As you see, I have multiplied out from 1 to 50 in just that way.
Disc. Thus, if my name were not Rab but rather named “Rabe” with four
letters R-a-b-e, that name R-a-b-e could be rearranged twenty-four times, and
thus, simultaneously, each of the four letters can stand at the beginning 6
times?
Prec. Quite so.
Disc. I will try that out quickly, e.g.
Rabe Aber Bare Erab

Raeb Abre Baer Erba
Reab Areb Brae Ebra
Reba Arbre Brea Ebar
Rbea Aebr Bear Earb
Rbae Aerb Bera Eabr
It is really true! Your are right. The four letters remained the same but were
simply switched around. Thus my baptismal name, Jacob, because it consists
of five letters, can be switched around 120 times, and, furthermore, each of
these five letters can stand at the front 24 times? And, thus, can, as I see in
the multiplication table, 6 different things [be switched around] 720 times.
For example, can Jacobus, with its 7 letters, be switched around 5040 times
and each of the letters stand at the head 720 times? And so on with all of the
others?
Prec. Certainly. For that reason the switching around can go on forever, as the
numbers prove. Just as the ancient German verse says:
Es steckt in jeder Sach’ ein gewiss gemaass und ziel,

wo nichts kann möglich sein zu wenig moch zu viel.
(Everything has a certain appropriate place and purpose,
Where nothing can possibly be too little nor too much.)70
I believe that the druggist and the gracious lord doctor could make use of
this art in order to mix many thousand million combinations out of cold, hot,
moist, dry, and twenty more things. Also by the cooks, in order to cook up
70
And even here, perhaps, the Latin verse still may be best suited, as “<There is moderation in
things, and there are certain limits, beyond which no good can be found>.” It can find its place
tomorrow in the art of divination.
193
their foods in so many different ways. Furthermore many a roguish innkeeper

may have the benefit of this method in order to mix his wines together, but
what are you trying to say to me with that?
Prec. Just as letters, so can musical notes be mixed, namely 2 notes twice, 3
notes 6 times, 4 notes 24 times, times, 50 notes as many times as shown in
the immense yea, as it were, inexpressible number sequence at the end of my
multiplication table.
Disc. That is astonishing! I will try it at first, however, with just two notes,
namely C and D:
Now I will change around these two notes,

namely to set the D in front:
It is true that these two cannot be rearranged more than two different ways.
Now, however, with three notes, for example, C, D, E, e.g.
That is really a sixfold permutation! Now I will change around four notes, C,
D, E, F, in 6/8 meter, e.g.
194
[28]
Prec. You have carried out your task very well. Each of the four notes remain
in their designated place, with proper order, namely the two quarter notes
remain on the C and the E throughout, and the two eighth notes, on the other
hand, remain on the D and the F.
Disc. However, I see that many of the permutations yield a melody that is not
of much use but rather too foreign.
Prec. That doesn’t matter. One ought only to select the best of them. At
the same time, music lovers are constantly asking for ever stranger ideas.
And besides, no composer would be needed any more. However, if I look
at just these four notes, or rather your twenty-four permutations [of them]
from before, choose a measure from them here and there, and if I combine
them with one or two completely different measures, I can have twenty-four
beginnings of a theme in a twinkling of an eye. In order to prove this to you
visually, I will mark the newly added measures with a ✠ but leave those,
however, that already have numbers assigned to them, e.g.
Disc. It is true that you have taken the first and third measures from my
permutations. I would have recognized them even if you had done it without
numbers 1 and 7.
Prec. I will continue in this manner, e.g.
Disc. And here I see the second and eighth of my permutations, which now
form the first and fourth [rect. third] measures.
Prec. Now be still! I will derive something from each of your permutations,
e.g.
195
Look, now I have already [taken care of] twelve of your permutations, as you
see. Because, however, none of the other notes begins with the tonic, C, I will
place a completely different measure at the beginning and at the end, in order
to use the remaining twelve permutations in like fashion, e.g.
196
[29]
Disc. That is astonishing!
Prec. That is not really astonishing but completely natural. You will, however,
hopefully recognize the arrangement of the notes in 6/8 meter, e.g.
For in 3/8 meter

I would have to
write the two
measures in this way:
Disc. I know. Such arrangements are familiar to me from the first chapter. [30]
Prec. If I now likewise change around the notes of the newly added measures
and combine them with your permutations, I could derive several thousand
themes from them in an instant.
Disc. I believe it. For as I see in the multiplication table, a mere eight notes
can already be changed around in 40,320 ways.
Prec. And just as the notes, so entire measures can be changed around, to
the extent tolerated by tonal order and melody.
197
Disc. I understand that, too. Namely, five names, e.g. Jacob, Philip,
Hansmichel, Gerhard, and Adam, can be changed or shifted around 120
times just as if they were five single letters.
Prec. But if one wanted to change around these five names as well as their
letters, a very large number would result, once again.
Disc. A very large number to be sure. Because in these five names there
are almost more than twenty letters, the number would run not into just
millions or billions but trillions. One might merely count up the letters and
find the number in the table. But it seems to me the mere concept of this art
of permutation is sufficient to remind me henceforth of a new theme and to
vary my compositions at my discretion in thousands and thousands of ways.
Formerly I had to reflect a long time in order to compose a fermata cadenza
(during which the accompanying instruments remain silent). Now, however, I
will always just take the next best measure out of the aria, which will provide
me with an introduction to it. Indeed, that would yield twenty cadenzas from
one measure from a single aria. And because I already understand a little about
figured bass, it will not be difficult for me to likewise sing and to vary one aria
twenty times, one after the other. My lord will be amazed, for he has thought
quite often how it is possible that, after so many things have been composed
in this world and are still being composed, all these thousand million musical
pieces are nearly as different from one another as are men among themselves,
whose outward appearance and feelings are so various. I won’t mention
enduring clothing styles. But painters, portrait artists, and generally all artists
must have some form of these permutations in order to invent ever new things.
I myself (although with difficulty) have made countless variations upon the
first chapter, so that unfortunately I really began to be arrogant about it and to
ascribe to my own abilities that which is merely placed there by nature, which
now, thank heaven, I am learning by means of the art of permutation. Mustn’t
the orator also be well versed in this?
Prec. Without a doubt.71 I have been assured for many years that even
the Greek heathen philosopher Aristotle invented and pondered all types
71
Previously the youth called the fermata a Ferma-Cadenz. Fermare, indeed, means “to hold
still.” However, only the participants hold still. Beyond that, in some places, the fermata is
also called Systema. It is also called Capriccio if it is carried out by an instrumentalist much
longer than by a singer, and is, in this case, executed with wandering melodies. I once heard a
violinist play a capriccio that lasted longer than the entire concerto. In proper German, this is
called a “shot,” from “one who is shot.”
198
of syllogisms72 and indeed other innumerable superoctodecimpartiens-

quadragesimas-quintas by means of permutations, with the help of his
unbelieving followers in the beloved garden house that lay outside the city
of Athens.
Disc. Was it not he who invented gun powder?
Prec. No. He did not invent gun powder, but it is claimed that he drowned
himself in despair.73
Disc. How could the obstinate villain not have had the foresight to realize that
God did not create the world and its people so that each one could shorten his
life according to his own whim. But did he know, then, that, e.g., five, six, or
more letters could be rearranged just so many times and not more?
Prec. The writer whose work I have here on this table is said to have doubted that.
Disc. You see, I mean that each of the following two measures can be
rearranged 720 times, e.g.
[31]
Prec. The first measure can certainly be rearranged 720 times but not the
second.
Disc. That is something new. And why not? Doesn’t it have six notes just as
the first?
72
Modos syllogismorum, cu suis figuris & c. ex his selecta 19 barbarta, celarent & c. Locos
dialecticos & c. prima qualitares &c. &c.
73
I recently read in a little booklet (written by P. Defing, printed in Freyning) that he really died,
like a regular heathen, in bed. Perhaps the tale about the drowning was only concocted to pre-
serve his honor to a certain degree. Because he undoubtedly heard something of God’s gospel
and miracles but nevertheless trusted his concocted chimera more than building on infallible
revelations. Some claim that he only began practicing music in his old age. And when a cheeky
fellow threw this up to him as a weakness, he answered, “It is better to learn something than to
know nothing.” But it was much more likely that it was Socrates who answered thus. Both of
them certainly understood music well.
199
Prec. Because the first have six different notes while the second has rather
two alike, namely two Es, one still counts the 720 but must divide it by the
number 2. From this division, 360 results. From this one can conclude that
six notes, of which two are the same, can be rearranged only 360 times and
under no circumstances 720 times.74 If, however, NB, several or all sorts of
like notes are found in a single measure, e.g.,
then one must look for an entirely new rule. For here in the first measure
there are three Cs and two Ds. Therefore, I say that three can be rearranged
six times and two twice. I then multiply these together and say: 2 times 6
make 12. With this 12, I divide the 120 (which 120 arises here, as usual, from
the number 5 and arrive at 10. Thus, the first measure can be rearranged 10
times and not more, e.g.
Because there are, in the second measure, two Cs, two Ds, and two Es,
namely, six notes, which can usually be rearranged 720 ways, I thus multiply
these 3 times 2 by themselves and say: 2 times 2 are 4, and 2 times 4 are 8.75
With this 8 I divide the 720 and arrive at 90. Which the correct permutation
of the second measure ✠ demonstrates. In the case of the third measure
✠✠, I have two Cs, two Ds, two Es, and two Fs, so I multiply these four 2s
together and say: 2 times 2 make 4, and 2 times 4 make 8, and 2 times 8 make
16. With this number 16 I divide the 40,320, which usually arises from the
74
Once, when I was in Poland, I rearranged the 6 notes cc dd ee for all of 4 weeks, according to
this rule, which Kircher and, in addition to him, Taquet considered to be a commonplace. And
I could still never find out the true number [of permutations], until I finally got a hold of the
algebra books by the abbot Prestet, where, right in the first volume, on page 134, I notice the
error of the two priests. Then I arranged it as it can be seen above at the NB.
75
I do not consider it necessary to call this 8 a <cube, or solid>, under any circumstances.
200
number 8 and arrive at 2,520, which is the true number of permutations of the
eight notes in the third measure ✠✠. You can try this at home at your leisure.
Disc. I notice, thereby, that three, four, five, or more notes, when they are all
the same, cannot be rearranged, for example, these four:
Tell me, however, how many ways can the following be rearranged?
Prec. These four can be rearranged in twenty-four different ways, because

they differ from each other in respect to their duration. For one is a whole
note, another is a half, the third a quarter, and the last an eighth note.
Disc. If that is so, I will immediately analyze something in which fifty

different notes are to be seen, e.g.
Allow me, just for now, to call this thing a minuet. There are, as you see,
four Ds, both below and above the fourth line, consequently all available for
permutation, as are all the rest of the notes.
Prec. Indeed, I count 50 completely different notes therein that allow

permutations throughout, because, e.g., one A is a quarter, one is an eighth,
one is low, and one is higher, and so on with all the rest.
Disc. I know well that most of the permutations would really sound quite
strange. But how long will I have to work with this?
201
Prec. You are very foolish, even after you have the monstrous numbers of
the multiplication table before your eyes. Look, in this minuet there are two
systems; therefore ten systems [would fit] on an entire page and forty on an
entire bifolio, or exactly twenty permutations. I will now assert that if you
were able to write ten bifolios per day, that would then be 200 permutations
per day. Thus, in a full year you would produce 73,000 permutations.
Now if you could live a thousand million years, always thus continually
permuting, and a thousand copyists were to assist you throughout this long
time, these permutations would scarcely make up the first third part of the
possible permutations that are [hidden] in your minuet. Just do a little of the
multiplication and look at the size of the number next to the 50 in the table.
Disc. Astonishing! In this way the entire earth could be covered with this
single minuet, that is, with all its written-out permutations, and, in fact, so
completely that the many books of paper would in the end, in fact, have to
fall down on the earth.
Prec. On the other hand, they should not fall, for a certain writer76 has said
that only with the 23 or 24 letters of the ABC’s, so many different books
could be written that entire surface of the earth would not suffice if each book
were a quarter-foot thick, three-quarters wide, and a half-foot long. In another
place, he shows that if the books stood upright, seventeen circumferences of
the earth (land and sea together) would not be long enough. Whoever has any
doubt of the one or the other and has the time, can take the time to check. The
two of us will now let lie these books in all their length and breadth. And that
was something about the art of permutations.
Disc. I have taken such delight in this art of permutation or art of invention,
that I have the desire to talk another full half-hour about it.
Prec. You will not be able to forget about it anyway. But pay attention! For
we now are really beginning with tonal order. Do you know how one
recognizes a tonic note?
Disc. Certainly. By the beginning and especially by the last cadence. For one
can often begin instead of the tonic, namely with the fifth, e.g.
Guldimus, 1.4, de centro gravit c. 5. To be sure, to this also belongs the art of the fugue (Ars
76
combinatoria), which, if God grants us life and good health, we will deal with tomorrow, and
of which the youth will be amazed over and over again.
202
Or below, also with the fifth, e.g.
Now all these openings are in C, regardless of the fact that they make their
entrances with G. Not long ago, I blindly believed that because of such a first
note (which, counting from the tonic is five, thus the fifth) the tonic of such a
piece of music must be G and not C, unless I saw the last cadence finish in C.
Since that time, however, I catch myself in an instant, for the following notes
reveal it to the ear quite soon. If, however, the piece began with the tonic, I
had no doubt about it anyway, e.g.
[33] These openings seem to me clearer, more natural, and consequently more
emphatic that those that began with the fifth. You may believe me or not.
Prec. Not only will I believe you but I agree to it myself. Now may I know
whether you understand this also in the key of D?
Disc. And why not? Look, e.g.
203
That was in the key of D with the major third. And now I will also take the
same key with the minor third, e.g.
Prec. It was certainly not necessary to form this womanly [minor] key,
because it is begun just as the manly [major] key.
Disc. In other words, do you call the key with the major third “manly”
and the key with the minor third “womanly?” Perhaps because the major
third is clearer or more understandable than the minor third. For men (as
my lord tends to say quietly and with a sigh) are created more upright and
understandable than are women.
Prec. Be careful! Not at all because of that. But rather because the minor
third sounds much gentler and more flattering to the ears than the other.77
Furthermore, I have only once seen this nomenclature in a two-hundred-year-
old Latin book. Please continue, then, to begin in all the other keys in this way.
Disc. Mercy! Why do you want to torture me so long with all of this writing?
No doubt every discantist knows that every key is formulated in this way.
Prec. Now just form the previous examples only in the key of G.
Disc. I already understand you. You believe that I am so foolish as to begin

too high, e.g.
77
For that reason I still do not say “hard D, soft D” when I mean an overall tonality.
204
No, look: I begin this way, nicely in the lower register, because the violin
would come to be, thus, too high, e.g.:
[34] And such a transposition a discantist can make just as well as you, with
all the pitches and keys. At one time, you will call the five lines “a staff” and
at another time “a system.” Tell me instead, if one cannot also begin with the
third degree?
Prec. No. I advise you to do this neither at the beginning nor at the cadence.
However, I will explain to you a critical exception to that, especially in many-
voiced pieces.
Disc. The evening before last I heard, outside on the bench beneath my
window, two drunken women who had a bottle of brandy with them, and
they began such a pretty song with such thirds, that I began to fall asleep over
it. I will write down for you in passing only a verse of it, e.g.
205
Prec. Such songs (always including the text cautiously) may well put to sleep
such a wordy ne’er-do-well, who takes the third for a perfect consonance.78
And you are also not worth a kreutzer more than those aforementioned poor
wretches, if something so tasteless puts you to sleep. I regret that I ever stirred
my quill on your behalf.
Disc. Oh no, it didn’t please me but rather my wife. Look, the minuet from
Swabia also begins with the third, and in addition some incompletely stirring
measures follow each other; but nevertheless overall it pleases people quite
well. The beginning sounds this way, e.g.
Prec. Indeed, people generally like whatever is unusual. But if this and similar
melodies were so good, even a Swabian quintessence, we must still always
abide by natural rules.
Disc. However, I also have seen the following opening, NB, in the music of
a great master, e.g.
It was, however, preceded by an Andante, so that even this opening did not
sound bad. But I remember having heard an opening on the sixth [degree],
and to be sure by a very great master, e.g.
[35]
Whereupon all the rest of the voices joined in unisono, or unison.
78
That even decent people actually search out such bleak things! One ought to rap them on the
knuckles a little when they copy such stuff (one from the other), in order, perhaps, to make
those who walk blind and those who hear deaf.
206
Prec. (The youth is really driving me into a corner.) You are right; one
occasionally even sees arias that begin on other than the tonic or its fifth.
Such an accident or idea always happens with forethought. And this either
in view of the text or of the <theme> itself, etc. The orators tend to call
such an extraordinary beginning in their orations ex abrupto, that is, abrupt,
unexpected, unfilled, even imperfect, etc. This ex abruptio suddenly imposes
an astonished attentiveness upon the listeners. You, however, can hold off
on this for a few years yet and thereafter compose one such ex abrupto every
two years. However, I want finally to allow you to begin with the third, etc.,
if, preceding it, a cadence were also to be concluded with the same pitch, e.g.
For remember: a fugue should never be started with other than the tonic, but
rather so:
Provided that either the entire piece stands in the fifth, or else if it only closes
with a full cadence, or else with a half cadence79 on the fifth, then one can
allow the fugue to begin quite well on the fifth, e.g.
Which is generally called a “church cadence,” because one seldom makes use of this outside
79
of church.
207
Disc. Thus I could even begin with the fourth if, for example, an Adagio or an
Andante [ending] on such a fourth or even on the fifth were to precede it. In
order to make my opinion clear to you, I will set down only the last cadence
of such an Andante as follows:
Therefore, this Allegro, which begins directly with the note F, would be in
the key of C. [36]
Prec. Were you to think up a thousand similar things, and were you to set
them out with all care, no person would object to them.80 Composition exists
in everyone’s free will. But do not fly before you have wings. Furthermore,
the fourth is not an imperfect consonance but rather a dissonance.81
Disc. I remember having heard an Andante with one, two years ago, e.g.
Prec. Because it is an opening ex abrupto, either a church cadence, a fermata,

or perhaps a short Largo in G must have preceded it. Furthermore this opening
fourth [degree], F, which forms a seventh with the G in the bass, does not
sound so bad as long as the rest is composed in a masterly fashion.
Disc. By the same master, I once heard an Andante that began with the third
[degree], and pleased all the connoisseurs, e.g.
80
For, in this way, a fugue can even begin with the second, fourth, or seventh [degrees]. I have
heard and seen this more than once.
81
And, in fact, such a dissonance that many harmonists would much rather hear the major sev-
enth (according to kind) with 2, 3, as well as 4 voices. It is indeed not yet the time to remember
something definite about this irresponsible mirror-fencing.
208
Prec. Because you know every key very well, we will proceed to our principal task.
Disc. Have we not already properly dealt with tonal order?
Prec. No. That was only your first greeting, and way of saying “good morning.”
Now we will at last explain that amazing, long, third principal word. Notice
that in the first chapter I explained two commas. Now, however, since you are
ready to handle a bit more, I will tell you that the first of them was not a real
comma (Absatz) but rather only a segment or caesura (Ab- oder Einschnitt).
Disc. What is the difference between the one and the other?
Prec. There are all sorts of caesuras but only two kinds of commas: one is
called a tonic comma (Grund-Absatz) because it always takes its position
at the tonic [i.e., it concludes with the tonic]; the second, however, is
called the changing comma (Änderungs-Absatz) because after it a change
(Ausweichung) of key always appears. Now it all depends on whether you are
ready to grasp this difficult and useful material by means of mere examples.
Otherwise I would rather not begin with it at all. If we rely on idle verbal
explanations alone, we would spend an entire half-year without becoming
any the wiser for it.82
Disc. Since I was able to find myself within this subject in the first chapter, it
will not be too difficult for me now.
Prec. I will use only the 3/4 meter most of the time, because experience has
already taught me that you know well how to orient yourself in the other
meters without the least trouble.
Disc. That is fine with me. Just begin!
Prec. We will also stay with the key of C, e.g.
Because we would have to think up far more names than the Latin poets for their poetic
82
meters. Concerning this, see Scaliger, Poet. Lib. II. C. 4C. I just mean, for those who would
not believe it now.
209
Now the tonic here is C, and because the fourth or last measure here has its
location on C, it is, for that reason, called a tonic comma.
Disc. That is quite easy to understand. Look. I will show this comma even
more clearly, e.g.
[37]
Prec. This is the conclusive tonic comma,83 and . . .
Disc. Be still. I know that already on account of the first chapter, because it
reaches the tonic note at the end. Pay attention. I will, myself, sketch some
examples of conclusive and inconclusive commas for you, one after another.
I begin with the foregoing two categories.
The notes of the conclusive tonic comma may lie either in the upper or in the
lower register, e.g.
83
Perhaps I should have used the plural here: these are conclusive commas. However, although
their inner essence as commas remains eternally immutable, its notes may be altered in a thou-
sand ways, as will be made clear in the following examples.
210
Or they may even be varied, e.g.
Or in the high register, which is indeed one and the same, e.g.
Prec. Quite incomparable!
Disc. Now I will tackle the inconclusive tonic comma, which is, e.g.
Because this does not reach the tonic note at the end but rather only the third.
Notwithstanding that, its harmonization is C, for the second violin can help
to show it, e.g. [38]
211
What is more, my ear indicates to me, herewith, another inconclusive tonic

comma, e.g.
For although the last note is a bit far from the tonic note (on the fifth, G),
it nevertheless implies a C in the bass here, considering all the preceding
notes. I will once again put the second violin part with it, e.g.
I will show them to you separated from their preceding notes, in the high
register as well as the low, namely those that belong to the tonic comma, e.g.
Varied, they turn out scarcely different, as approximately thus:
212
[39] And that explains the duality between conclusive and inconclusive tonic
commas, if you are satisfied with it.
Prec. My heart rejoices! I even thought, meanwhile, that it is no longer

necessary to write out for you a chapter on the bass, so well have you done
with it right away.
Disc. You must by no means think so, for I have simply followed my ear in
everything.
Prec. Now I must say to you that all the notes after the tonic comma, be they
short, long, thick, or thin, immediately hurry toward the changing comma,
just as if the one kind of comma could not live without the other, e.g.
This changing comma is also called by some the questioning comma; the
tonic comma, on the other hand, is called the answering or affirming comma,
because the latter lends itself well to affirming words, etc., while the former,
however, lends itself to questioning words of a text, e.g.
Because, in consideration of the text, it is so much more natural than if the

question were to be expressed by means of a tonic comma in the following
way, e.g.
Nevertheless,84 one can object, here, that. . . .
Disc. I cannot, in fact, agree with you.
84
One should not be so stubborn here, because the answering words, Was ich kann, da zeig ich
dir (“What I can do I will show you”), is so bound up with the foregoing question that both,
together, form practically a single essence of the question.
213
Prec. I really ask nothing more than to introduce to you the commas in their
essence.85
Disc. I believed that you were just teasing me, because it must be obvious
to the world that the first example is better than the second. It is true that
because of this my lord even prescribed for Hansmichel some exercises with
«recitatives». He has, however, such a weak talent for music that he cannot
yet grasp the lesson of why a melody is good, e.g.
My lord will not permit the first and especially not the last questioning comma
(✠✠), because the notes descend. [The last comma] seems to me, however,
to be just as natural as all the others, although certainly not more natural.
Prec. We will speak about it tomorrow. [40]
Disc. Now, however, Hansmichel did not even understand that in the
penultimate questioning comma, where the mark ✠ is placed, as in all the
following affirming commas, the notes are written this way only for the sake
of the bass, but they are sung as follows:
85
Many discantists or, perhaps, even real composers may be opposed to the theory or philoso-
phy of a [particular] text, or they may not wish to think about it at all. I, however, cannot help
it that my ears were made like this. In general, each person will believe what he wants to. No
one will fault me, I hope, for writing in this way about one thing or another simply because
214
However, he is so clumsy that he precisely inverts the commas in relation to

the text, so that my name, Jacob, could almost be ashamed of itself, e.g.
And thus, he sings the notes exactly as written here. Even less did he notice
that when the text of a question lasts long, one must dwell upon the changing
comma just as long. He goes, however, with the bass at every instant and
without a single reason, even into the chromatic notes. And he did the same
thing with the affirming or answering comma. He trusts himself to use neither
quarter notes nor sixteenth notes to set [the text] beneath, in order to make the
arrangement of the measures so much the easier. Why not? Because he does
not know that a singer would pay no attention, but rather give more to the
proper expression of the words. In two or three minutes my lord explained to
me these things about which Hansmichel has doubts.
Prec. But we have the changing comma before us here, which has G in its
harmony (with respect to the bass), and forms a fifth with it. It is no less
conclusive andinconclusive, and can also be varied, e.g.
That was, therefore, the inconclusive changing comma with several variations.
And now it follows in its conclusive form, e.g.
________________
I have had neither the fortune nor the misfortune of composing for the theater. Many people
wish that there were no theaters in this world. Each person has a right to his opinion. NB: This
knowledge of commas belongs equally to the church [i.e., to church music].
215
Likewise in the low register, e.g.
Disc. Oh my! Why do you need to mention the low register, which is obvious.
Something else occurs to me: I thought that the following would also belong
to the [category of the] changing comma, e.g.
[41] or conclusive, e.g.
I will not even set down all the examples in the high and the low registers.
You know that.
Prec. You are completely correct. I really would have forgotten this comma.
It is called the incomplete changing comma because it usually presents the
third of the chord only in the second violin, NB, when it is inconclusive.86 If
it is conclusive, however, [the third of the chord] can be presented in the first
violin just as often as in the second. In order to find our way out of the fog,
quickly compose some examples of it! In order not to have to use so much
writing all the time, you may designate the conclusive and inconclusive
tonic commas together with their variations by the sign ■ and perhaps the
conclusive and inconclusive changing commas together with their variations
by the sign □.
Disc: In the blink of an eye:
86
Concerning “conclusive” and “inconclusive” commas, see page 19 of the first chapter.
216
You would not believe how much the Θ overwhelms me, for example
referring to the art of permutation. I trust myself to write out several hundred
and more similar examples in a flash, were I only [42] to write out [further]
permutations for one of these seven examples. But why should one waste
time over it. I would be a poor discantist if I did not immediately recognize
the two commas even from a distance. But tell me why you call the last of
these a changing comma? Is it, perhaps, because it does not have the tonic C
in its harmony but rather (counting from C) the fifth, namely G?
Prec. Not at all for that reason but because always immediately after it the
key must be changed. Such a change or modulation (Ton-Abweichung)
may hasten directly toward a cadence in G, or it may by all means simply
hurry back to the tonic note, C, e.g.
217
Disc. I knew very well why you wrote the word “solo” at the end here. You
want to imply, by that means, that these sixteen measures are an opening tutti
or forte of an aria or, perhaps, a short concerto. Furthermore, such measures
could form a respectable minuet if the repeat sign :║: were placed in the
middle.
Prec. I cannot even hear the mere word minuet without disgust.
Disc. That is just what I wanted to say. So, are the two tonic commas in this
forte or tutti correct?
Prec. By all means. For, because the changing comma is placed between
them, and the melody immediately strives back toward the principal, or tonic,
cadence, such tonic commas do not seem at all superfluous to the ear.
Disc. But the second measure after the □–comma also seems to be a comma,
and in particular a ■–comma in D, e.g.
Prec. No. This is merely a caesura. Because a twosome is not sufficient for
preparing a comma. A foursome, on the other hand, is long enough for it, e.g.
218
Disc. Consequently, I may always only consider a foursome. However,

because two ■–commas are allowed in such a brief melody, I might form, on
the other hand, also two □–commas, e.g.
[43]
Prec. Each of these two examples is just as bad as the other. For two successive
□–commas would not only be called an offensive repetition,87 but they would
be such in fact.
Disc. And I have noticed it, not only now but also in many compositions. But
I merely wanted to try them out on you. However, what if one of them were
a complete and, at the same time, inconclusive □–comma while the other one
were incomplete and, at the same time, perhaps conclusive, etc., e.g.
87
<Tautology>. This is unfortunately found in compositions just as often as in most orations.
219
Or the other way around:
Prec. The first example will perhaps please you better than the second.
However, I would allow either only in case of the most urgent necessity.
Disc. You let far too little pass with me. I understand you well, however. You
do not dare tell me to my face that both examples are no good. For what it is
worth, I have guessed it.
Prec. That may be. You hopefully will leave me to my free will.
Disc. That is none of my business; I only know that the second of the
foregoing □–commas is no good.
Prec. I tell you, however, it is good if, instead of the first one, a cadence in G
were written, e.g.
Disc. Now my ears are finally at home. This example could really not sound
better.
Prec. Two tonic commas rhyme88 also in this way, e.g.
88
The word Rhythmopoeïa (“rhyme scheme” [recta “metrical scheme”]) will already be clearer
to those writers who troubled themselves, now and again, merely to mention it in their ex-
panded collections, than [it was] in the first chapter. What effort this requires!
220
[44]
Disc. That is a colossal fallacy. Did you not say, only five minutes ago, that
all notes after the ■ strive to reach the □?
Prec. I really should have added to that: “or to reach the cadence.”89 Look,
then. Here it only makes sense if one wants quickly to compose an opening
forte. Three or four minutes ago, however, it was my opinion that if one
wished to compose a forte with more than sixteen measures, it could not be
otherwise than this way. I will quickly set down for you the third principal
model of which we will speak shortly, e.g.
Now you must remember these three examples as long as you live and
have health. The first, which contains a monte [“mountain”], begins, after the
□–cadence in G, with a cobbler’s patch, which, however, is varied a little bit.
The second (fonte [ “fountain”]), after the aforesaid cadence, makes a caesura
on D minor in order to form a tonic comma, namely in C, the tonic, by means
of a repetition one step lower, and thereby to come back home happily with
a ■–cadence. The third (ponte [“bridge”]), after the aforementioned cadence,
continues entirely in G in order to turn back easily to the ■–cadence.
With all diligence, I waver back and forth a little between explanations, so that I may bring
89
home to the Discantist by and by the need to sharpen his own hearing. Whomever does not
want to believe it, him I cannot help.
221
Disc. I see this threefold difference clearly. And because C is the tonic here,
and G is only a secondary pitch, one cannot call such a cadence on the fifth, G,
anything but an changing cadence, for one must also take leave of it quickly.
But since we should value our German mother tongue more highly than all
others, why have you set Latin or Italian names to them?
Prec. It was done in haste this way; no harm is done by it.90 I will have to
remind you often of the three models only today. Look, I write the beginning
at once, e.g.
Here, at the beginning, the ■–comma hurries toward the □–comma. Thus
your previous doubt is removed.91 The rest of the notes after the □–comma
belong to the fonte, namely to the second model.
Disc. Thus, the □–cadence can be exchanged for the □–comma. In spite of that,
as I see it, a cadence and a comma are so very different from one another
that they could be placed right next to each other, and nevertheless the
ear could not be offended, while two similar commas have that shortcoming
when they are placed one after the other. Now I will [45] set down Θ some
trumpet or horn pieces according to the three models, but at this point
with one and the same rather bad melody. For I am quite often opposed in
these matters by the tower master in Urbsstadt, e.g.
90
Monte, mountain, to climb up. Fonte, fountain, to climb down. Ponte, bridge, to go across. I
have still more useless words.
91
A confident composer cannot tolerate a minuet with this □–comma instead of the □–cadence.
Another composer, however, to whom such a cadence, perhaps, closes too strongly and con-
clusively for such a short piece, would rather hear the opposite, namely the □–comma. Fur-
thermore, both examples are orderly, although the first also has its reasons.
222
Now, instead of a □–cadence, I will make a □–comma, e.g.
Prec. I said it, and you yourself have also said that two similar commas in
succession do not sound good, and nevertheless you have set them here!
Disc. Because, however, the first is on the fifth, the second, on the other
hand, is on the third, the ear finally will be able to tolerate them. Therefore,
to please you I will make it better, e.g.
I will try this ■–comma also with a □–cadence, e.g.
223
Prec. These four examples of yours are very well varied with respect to the
monte. [46]
Disc. Now I will undertake variations on the fonte, e.g.
And now a □–comma instead of a □–cadence, e.g.
To vary this fonte this way may still work, e.g.
224
But the following would perhaps sound much too bad, because two similar
commas would follow one another, e.g.
I will also try varying the ponte a little bit, e.g.
[47]
So that no two □–commas follow one another, I will now place a ■–comma
in the second part.
The following, however, with two successive similar-sounding commas,

would then, once again, not sound very good at all, e.g.
225
Until now I have been guided by your monte, fonte, and ponte, and at the
same time by my ear.
Prec. Incomparable! Your ear exceeds nearly all the rules that I can give you
for this. Above all, I am pleased that you doubt a little here and there, for
this is the unique advantage in learning ever more thoroughly to explore the
nature of composition.
Disc. Whether that is just flattery or real praise, I am only happy because
you assure me that I now know the orderly passages for horn pieces. At
home I will at once compose several hundred, yet for the most part in
common or 2/4 time so that no one may call me a 3/4-time composer. If
you, however, doubt that I am in a position to vary everything at will, I
will quickly show you it with the last part, that is with the second half
[consisting] of the ponte, e.g.
[48] Also with a □–comma, as far as the ear tolerates or requires it, e.g.
226
Prec. Stop it! Once you understand something about harmony and taste, as
regards metric and tonal order, then you can always vary freely upon this.92
Disc. Heavens! I would have now composed with zeal for two days in a row. I
will, however, also, with your permission, set down a few bad and erroneous
examples in order to make myself more secure about how they differ from
good examples, e.g.
At first you see the □–cadence, which is so similar to the following □–comma
in the second part that one could use such a comma itself for a cadence.
Prec. What if somebody told you that this is a repetition?
Disc. This is a repetition? [49]
92
<Therefore, music is nothing else but variation. It encompasses taste and expression, etc.>
We have sufficient models today of the proportion of a whole, so that we no longer need any-
thing from mathematics, except for the arts of permutation or fugue.
227
Look. I will show you what a real repetition is, e.g.
For one must consider more than just two measures, which are not unfavorable
to repetition. Now I will set a bad example upon the fonte, e.g.
And now also complete, e.g.
If a hornist, etc., varied ✠ the first □-comma, the error would strike the eye
and the ear even more, e.g.
The following example would be quite good in a pinch, whether it belonged

to the monte, to the fonte, or to the ponte, e.g.
228
[50]
For your three [examples all] begin the second part as follows, e.g.
With those variations it has, moreover, its own correctness, e.g.
And thus in more than a thousand ways. Could one not also vary the first part
a bit?
Prec. Certainly. Perhaps once or twice a year one can use a □–comma at the
beginning instead of a ■–comma ✠, e.g.
And because the three Italian names did not please you earlier, I have attached
the [German] word Stieglitz [“goldfinch”] here.93
93
I have not written down these names for nothing. That will become apparent later today.
229
Disc. Never in my life would I have thought of this □–comma. It seems to

me that it is nothing other than an ex abrupto, because here this key of C has
not been previously established by means of a regular ■–comma. By placing
the □–cadence in between, I could once again make a □–comma in the second
part (although with completely different notes), e.g.
Prec. This example is, out of necessity, quite good. It would be better,
however, if your ears were a little doubtful of it.
Disc. Your previous one is really better, because it has two kinds of comma
and two kinds of cadence. In it I notice that such a □–comma immensely
loves to have a ■–cadence after it. Therefore, I will try one in that way, and
perhaps label it Spatz [“sparrow”], e.g. [51]
Prec. Instead of calling it a sparrow, you should have rather called it a

bullfinch [i.e., a dunce]. To set two similar cadences in a row in such a short
melody! What are you thinking? It is completely different if a cadence is
repeated for its own sake.
Disc. Likewise I recognized, while writing, that it is too simple that way. But
because the first part is good in and of itself, I can actually throw eight more
measures into it, e.g.
230
At the ✠ I have indicated that such a comma wants the following cadence
✠ ✠. From that point onward, namely to where the R is placed, I would
have been able to form the full close by way of the monte, fonte, or ponte.
But I wanted to show you only one further type beyond those. If only
I just would have been permitted to mark only da capo at the middle
cadence ✠ ✠, then from the R onward it would not have been necessary
to write out anything else, because the first part formed in that way can
always, at the same time, take the place of the conclusion. Furthermore, I
could have called this example “peacock,” because the second part is so
extraordinarily long.
Prec. For a horn piece, this example would almost certainly be generally too
long. Moreover, in certain circumstances, I value the da capo not very highly.
Disc. What if, however, a hornist just wants to have one or another piece
longer than all the foregoing examples are?
Prec. For that, one has entirely other means than the da capo, as you will hear
from me soon. Because only by this means will you learn to recognize that
the various commas must call and answer each other in an orderly fashion.
Disc. Exactly so. My lord very often says, “A good composition must speak
without, nevertheless, pronouncing one word. And because many composers
make all their pieces monstrously long and know how to write nothing briefly,
one should first learn to organize everything according to philosophy.”
231
Prec. That seems to me a strange and yet at the same time also a really
sensible observation, provided that your lord is otherwise sincere, and thereby
understands that one should investigate nature without empty turns of phrase,
without groping around in a sack.
Disc. Often he calls philosophy also “world wisdom,” and he asserts that no
one with complete world wisdom has ever existed on earth or ever will, the
reason being, he says, that this science encompasses all the other sciences
and the natural arts within itself. On this account, the chaplain, who styles
himself a Master of Philosophy, gave him a very sharp rebuke recently as they
stood together in the churchyard. My lord became indignant and, in return,
gave him, in quick succession, some twenty questions about mass, force,
herbs, stones, and, in a word, about all four elements. Finally he suggested
to him that he might answer very quickly how tall our church tower is. The
chaplain retorted full of anger, “He [my lord] himself should go fetch a string
to measure it with.” What a wonder! Our carpenter, Görgel, scarcely heard
this when he threw himself down to the ground on his side and measured the
tower in one minute, merely by means of his ruler and the judgement of his
eye. [52] To this hour my lord has not yet laughed enough at the chaplain
because of the string.
Prec. Your lord may rightly be spiteful.94 The master’s “world wisdom”95
certainly was placed somewhat in doubt by this.
Disc. So, tell me, then, what connection can music have with this? You have
just heard a philosophy lecture or perhaps transcribed one.
Prec. It makes as much sense to me today as if I had spent those three years
catching mosquitoes in a thick fog.96 My one-time little chick became an
old hen for me because of that. The imaginary thing,97 the non-thing, the
omnipotential thing of the alchemist, and many hundred similar things made
me so dumb and confused that I might have been rendered incapable of
94
The boy said Spagat, which word, like Babisch (both borrowed, perhaps, from the Bohemian
language), is customary here and there in southern Germany. The first of these means “string”
in German; the second means “a notched stick” or “measuring stick.”
95
<The science of all things possible in nature, their quantity, and their quality.> An Idler (as he
is called) in the works of proscribed authors) may certainly prefer to choose only the <quality>
in order to do himself some good.
96
On the other hand, I was sustained at that time by a Christian and ethical way of life, which
truly is the main thing in this world.
97
<That which exists only in thought, a fabrication of the mind, first matter, etc.>
232
making music for ever. Now I can remember only a few names from it. If
you already understood the caesura, I would set up a trial of it.98
Disc. A caesura (as I observed) is found only in the second measure of

foursomes, and there necessarily must also be ■–caesuras and □–caesuras.
Prec. Most beautiful. Look, because many people do not know, for example,
how they should formulate a very short opening tutti or forte in an Adagio, I
will set down here two of them (with two kinds of caesura), e.g.
In both cases the

solo could start
immediately
afterward.
Two such measures would be, in the view of philosophy, no more than mere
nouns.99 Just as if they would say, “compass and numbers” or “hearing and
keyboard.” Now I want to write out a forte or tutti of four measures, namely
with a real comma, e.g.
Disc. Certainly such short opening fortes may often be of good use in
composition. But what would it (excluding the solo that might follow it) be
called according to the usage of philosophy?
Prec. A sentence (Satz).100 Just as if its notes wanted to speak to us with the
following words: “Compass and numbers help, perhaps (□–caesura), the ear
to tune the keyboard.” Or four similar measures with a ■–caesura, e.g.
98
I thought that this sort of trial ought to be more useful than an argument as to whether music
is an art or a science. For I respect him who can do much but knows little just as much as he
who knows much but can do little.
99
<Subject or conclusion.> In respect to the ensuing solo <signifying little>, as far as I am
concerned.
100
<Proposition.>
233
And here the notes likewise give us to understand, “The hearing helps
numbers and compasses (■–caesura) to tune the keyboard purely.” Judge
whether the music cannot express its meaning by means of mere notes more
briefly and more laconically than many philosophers can express theirs with
all their assembled words.
Disc. If, however, I want to set an opening forte of eight measures, e.g.
[53] Prec. From the philosophical point of view, this is no longer called a
sentence but an actual conclusion because of the ■–cadence: nevertheless it
is not termed a complete one but an abbreviated and curtailed conclusion.101
Likewise, it is as if its notes want to say, “If measurement has become practice
these days (□–comma), then one can certainly not call it theory.”102 Or with
a ■–comma, e.g.,
which eight measures then express the following curtailed conclusion:

“Calculation of ratios does not serve composition (■–comma); therefore it
can be left untouched without much cost.”103
101
Enthuymene.
102
<They discover confused things; above all, they are silent about known things>.
103
<Such is the power of reason! But such a one lacks reasonableness.> The treatise of Mr.
Rameau is, without doubt, not the best but one of the most vainglorious, specifically: Demon-
stration du principe de l’harmonie, servant de base à tout l’art musicale theorique & pratique.
What is more, approuvée par Messieurs de l’Academie des Sciences. I was just as eager to read
this treatise as I was to know that Nicolaus Klim finally found a fifth kingdom in the middle of
the earth. As an Italian recently wanted to convince me, Mr. Rameau sought, perhaps, only to
inform the rest of the world about his and his learned nation’s universal imagination, which the
conclusion of this treatise clearly lays out as follows: “«Crowned by the kindness of the public
234
Disc. If I now compose an opening that is like the monte, fonte, or ponte, e.g.,
what would this be, then? (I may certainly not call it a minuet.)
Prec. This would be a complete conclusion.104 Which, as it were, seems to

convince us of the following: “Any sort of usage is unnecessary to composition
(■–comma) if one cannot know how to give any rule for it (□–cadence).
Now, one cannot know how to give any rule for compass usage (■–comma).
Therefore compass usage is certainly quite unnecessary to composition (■–
cadence).”
Disc. I have likewise noticed, in writing, that commas and cadences want to
relate various things with their notes. If this 1) were not an opening tutti then
2) no solo would follow, 3) and if both halves were repeated and 4) if several
like this with the fonte and ponte were played in our wine house in the castle,
neatly, without pause in Tempo Allegro, then I assure you that, as they are
demonstrations of proof and complete conclusions, most people would have
to start dancing to it. But would a sixsome divided into two threesomes also
be a philosophical beginning? E.g.,
________________
through the success of my practical musical works, sufficiently satisfied and content with myself,
if I dare to say it, on account of my discoveries in the area of theory, I wish only to obtain from
the most respectable tribunal of Learned Europe the seal of approval upon that part of my art
in which I have always the highest ambition to succeed».” I say, however, that the prophet of
Bömischbroda must have been totally drunk to have ranked him right behind Lully. NB: This
so-called or self-styled prophet, in France, wrote a criticism against music. If one, however,
looks at the refutation by Mr. Bolliud de Mermer, nothing remains of it but a complete vacuum.
Furthermore, a Frenchman assured me last year that the arts and sciences in his motherland must
be more renowned than elsewhere for that very reason, since care and work were still always
repaid well and justly. In that respect, my Italian friend was incorrect.
104
Syllogism. Whosoever enjoys such <a mountain giving birth> could easily discover and dis-
tinguish the subject, predicate, axiom, postulate, and notiones [inclusive general concept]. How-
ever, I would rather try to make the Discantist independent of this immature instructional mode,
since I hope to have already made him disgusted with one or another <birth of a ridiculous
mouse.> Up until now, it was rather attractive because he learned to understand comma [seg-
ments] correctly by this means.
235
Prec. And why not? You should be able to imagine everything for yourself
from the first chapter. [54]
Disc. If that is the case, then I do not need any philosophy. Look. I have also
at times seen an opening like the following:
And so on in Θ. I can also thus write two foursomes and repeat, perhaps, one
of the twosomes ✠ , e.g.
Prec. Quite good.105 Now you will hopefully see for yourself how a horn
piece can be lengthened at will.
Disc. Or perhaps I also may make two repetitions so that twelve measures
result from it, e.g.
105
What a relief that the young man has grown tired of philosophy on his own.
236
Prec. Without a single objection. For the ear always accepts such twelve
measures as merely a reinforced eightsome. Furthermore, as you have already
heard in the first chapter, repetitions do not easily spoil that. Indeed, I would
almost seize upon such twelve measures just as readily, if not more readily
than three unrepeated regular foursomes, e.g.
Disc. My eyes and ears are open. I understand everything and notice that I
can write a thousand million repetitions and variations upon this, so that I
have no further need of your or of any other human help in this.
Prec. If or because I am assured of that, we can continue ever onward in good

spirits. Notice that there are actually several kinds of caesura. However, one
can easily distinguish them from the commas if one pays attention to metric
order just in passing. I will not tax your brain with much writing about it, but
I will simply trust in your talent, which I have already observed; and, in that
hope, I likewise ask whether you already understand the following, e.g.
Disc. That is mere child’s play for me. Look. The fourth measure is a ■–
comma, and the eighth is a □–comma; the others, however, are nothing but
caesuras. I will show you in writing, e.g.
[55] Prec. Very good. This opening would serve well not only for an Andante
but for all other things that one would make shorter rather than too long.
Furthermore, the ■–comma as well as the □–comma often are placed farther
along at will. I will show you the caesuras with the sign ”, in order to save
letters, e.g.
237
Disc. That is certainly something new to me, and so new that these two kinds
of commas seem too far apart to me. If I may trust my hearing, the foregoing
half-as-short comma [segments] are no less adequate to make a piece as long
as desired.
Prec. You have taken my meaning.
Disc. Accordingly, if the bass had opposing notes, e.g.
such a piece, cut up by so many caesuras, composed once or twice a year,

may be, perhaps, not awkward but rather something superior. But my lord
almost does not know how to compose without the same (caesuras), so taken
with them is he. I would like, at least, to form it with more notes that sing
out, e.g.
Or with running and boisterous notes, etc., e.g.
238
Prec. You are quite right. But these discussions do not belong here. First we
will learn to distinguish the caesuras from the commas.
Disc. I already know that. A caesura often can also take the place of a comma,
and vice versa. Accordingly, if the caesura in the fourth measure of the first
example were more similar to the comma ✠, the latter, namely the comma
in the eighth measure, would also become more intolerable to the ear, e.g.
Which is also to be understood in the case of the second example, namely:
[56] Prec. Between two equivalent commas there should certainly be placed
a cadence or a different sort of comma. Perhaps, however, could one hear
these two examples as simple repetitions of the ■–comma?
Disc. In that case, one’s ears would have to be twisted. I do not accept the last
example as correct even once for that reason. For a proper repetition, as you
yourself know, must indeed be incidental, as follows:
One would proceed similarly in the case of the last Allegro, too, e.g.
239
I have varied the repetitions a little at the same time, which would have been,
in truth, not necessary. Otherwise, such sixteen measures must hopefully
sound a bit different from the previous ones with their expanded comma
[segments]. And whoever wanted to have such an opening shorter needs but
repeat only one comma and leave the other, on the contrary, unrepeated, e.g.
[57] And certainly this does not apply only at the beginning of a musi-
cal piece, but one can make short or long repetitions throughout, in my
opinion, when, where, how, and as often as one will, in a word, in all Θ.
Prec. Now I myself confess that you will no longer need my help hereafter,
neither for repetitions nor for caesuras. Consequently, we will immediately
begin to look at the modulation after the changing comma. Notice that, if one
composes an Andante, a solo, an aria, or a symphony, commonly and at a
minimum a cadence in the fifth (e.g., in G) is formed, which cadence is also
commonly announced by a changing comma, e.g.
240
106
107

The double repetition signs :║: could, for the sake of brevity, be omitted, and
the second part can begin with caesuras in other keys, namely on monte ✠ or
ponte ✠, e.g.
108 109
106
Or in the fifth.
107
Caesura in C, or on the tonic, for I cannot call it a comma here without fearing that I will
create confusion. I hope, nevertheless, to soon set the boy on the right track.
108
Caesura in F.
109
Caesura in G.
241
Disc. If, however, these thirty-two measures seemed to me too short for a
complete Andante or for the final Vivace of a symphony, might I not also
place the signs :║: in the middle of them?
Prec. Heavens, why do you doubt it? Such small details are all arbitrary. [58]
Disc. Thus I will, meanwhile, quickly compose the second part, namely the
last sixteen measures, over the ponte, e.g.
(First I must ask something.) May one also repeat a cadence?
Prec. Do not doubt it! Even occasionally more than one, two, or three repeti-
tions if you wish. For repetitions of cadences singularly help make the
melody seem unusual. Just look at opera arias!
Disc. I will bear that in mind for now and for ever. Meanwhile, it is indeed
true that the commas and cadences in these thirty-two measures speak with
one another in an orderly fashion. However, I trust myself only with a mon-
te, fonte, or ponte of sixteen measures, drawn out to thirty-two measures by
means of repetition, and with the most beautiful embellishment, e.g.
242
I fear only that there are too many repetitions. Otherwise I could have includ-
ed more of them, which I will show you by means of only the last system, e.g.
Prec. I now leave that to your future sensible judgment. Now you know how
to prolong (verlängern) a melody in two ways, namely by means of [the cre-
ation of and relations among] commas and repetitions. However, you do not
yet know anything about expansion (Ausdähnung [literally, “drawing out”]).
Disc. Perhaps that will come about over time. Namely, if I, e.g., use nothing
but whole or half notes in common time and perhaps write Adagio above
them?
Prec. No, that is not what I mean. Rather how the measures and the notes of
a monte, fonte, ponte, etc. would be prolonged (verlängert), e.g.
[59] Disc. Although it is almost indistinguishable from the previous two pro-
longations, I would not have thought of it readily. I like everything about it.
But you have only prolonged the caesura [segment]. With your permission, I
will include the comma [segment] together, namely:
I will thus prolong both of them, e.g.
243
Stop, stop! Now I see that I have made the comma segment two measures
shorter than the caesura [segment]. Therefore, I will quickly. . . .
Prec. Just let it be! One often sees, even in good compositions, that the com-
ma [segment] is longer than the caesura [segment], e.g.
They sometimes flow as smoothly into the ear as if they were both of the
same length, if perhaps not more smoothly.
Disc. It pleases me anew to hear this. Besides, I notice that repetition ✠ can
likewise help expansion, e.g.
Prec. Certainly, namely in all Θ.
Disc. May I then also sometimes deceive the ears a little by means of an oc-
casional separation (Zertheilung) of twosomes?
244
[60] Prec. You can write such passages three to four times per year, for I find
that the twosome is not just separated but rather a bit confused by means of
varied notes.
Disc. Good. I have already become more clever still. I will therefore expand
the fonte a bit, e.g.
That the caesura [segment] or the comma [segment], whether longer or short-
er or both together, can be made much longer through repetition is already
well known, anyway. Thus I will form one or two examples on the ponte,
namely:
245
However, these prolongations almost make me tired. I would rather put them
in order at home as soon as I have the opportunity. For this is not one hour
like any other.
Prec. And this is not one day like the other, either.110 However, in the view of
many, the one whose imagination has the capacity to do the most is the one
who invokes the unfavorable influence of the stars and uses the pretext of a
stomachache, no matter how healthy and lively he always appears, because
since birth he has given himself over to idleness.
Disc. Well then, tell me more. I don’t want to appear either too lively or too weak.
Prec. The fourth way to prolong a melody is insertion (Einschiebsel), which

is called parenthesis claudatur (“parenthetical clause”) in Latin. First I will
just set out a quite plain opening, e.g.
[61] And now I will insert, say, four measures, e.g.
<On the same day, she is mother and stepmother; since a lazy man is always on vacation.>
110
246
And this can be done not only at the beginning but throughout, wherever
desired.
Disc. I know that well. But is it a rule?
Prec. It is certainly a rule, or rather a prescription or a model, but not entirely

a law. You can also omit the previously mentioned three prolongations as far
as I am concerned. Likewise the following fifth type, namely prolongation by
means of doubling ✠ the cadences, e.g.
Or varied, if you wish, e.g.
Or here with the fourth measure cut away, e.g.
[62] Or with the bass varied, e.g.
247
Or the cadence can be repeated, together with its preceding comma, e.g.
Or with something removed from the comma, e.g.
Or more deceptively than before, namely if the third as well as the tonic ✠ is
left out in the first cadence, e.g.
I should hold off explaining the \ until tomorrow, e.g.
Or the cadence doubled still more, e.g.
248
Here there may be too many cadences for you. But I once saw eight cadences
placed in succession in an aria without there being anything strange about
them. Besides, I have only tossed out some examples quickly. You, yourself,
can discover thousands of them at your leisure, as often as you compose
something. For you have already heard that [multiple, successive] cadences
create oddities. You also know that they are found in concertos and sympho-
nies just as in arias, because one must imitate the vocal passages with the in-
struments. To this I will only add that the ■–cadences are doubled more often
than the □–cadences. I will give you a little sample of this in a horn piece, e.g.
[63] It also seems quite natural that the greatest emphasis be saved until last.
In spite of that, I have often seen, in good opera arias, that the □–cadence is
doubled up to three, four, or five times, more than the ■–cadence. Just look at
the arias that your lord has at home; perhaps I am deceiving myself.
Disc. I am benumbed with delight! For, by means of these five kinds of pro-
longation, I venture now to vary a single Allegro of a symphony or of a
concerto quite easily in a thousand ways, in all Θ. I only want to try a few
measures with the individual types of repetition, e.g.
249
And now I will repeat the first four measures all together and then also the
last four, e.g. [No example is given.]
Prec. I believe you are confused. You are going backward, crab fashion. We
have already had one or another example of it. I would rather compose for
you a quite short and simple Allegro, just as if it were a symphony, on which
you will then make a few alterations, e.g. [64]
250
At the sign + I have made a fifth[-degree] changing comma in order to an-

nounce the following cadence in G, because such a comma also belongs to G,
and at the same time its harmony, according to the bass, is on D. Accordingly
I could have made a similar cadence after a tonic changing comma, e.g.
Or, if you prefer, a bit longer, e.g.
[65] That concerned the + in the first part of the Allegro. Now further, at the
beginning of the second part, I have, at the mark P, repeated the notes of the
opening theme in reverse in order not to climb into a high register. At the
double sign ++ I have made a ■–comma in order to return home to the tonic,
251
C, in the most beautiful manner. The last mark, Q, means that I could not
climb as high as at the Q in the first part.
Disc. My lord said, however, that the second part must be longer than the first.
You, on the contrary, have made both parts of this Allegro equal in length.
Prec. Your lord should show me a fixed rule! Doesn’t a minuet have both
parts generally of the same length? And yet it can unfortunately win over hu-
man sensibilities none the less.
Disc. Did you yourself not say, in the first chapter, that it would be good if
the second part of a minuet had about two more measures than the first part?
Prec. “Would be good” is different from “it must be.”
Disc. Because it is good, I want to make the second part always longer than
the first, for the sake of greater force. But you know what? You could have
shown me the foregoing Allegro in miniature, just as painter depicts a jour-
ney through the countryside on a piece of paper only as broad as your hand,
in so-called miniature, e.g.
Or even more briefly:
Or, because in this only the tonic C and its fifth G are presented, I could also
set out the commas this way, e.g.
252
Or the miniature could be still smaller, namely just in letters, e.g.
C-G-C
Prec. In the foregoing Allegro there are only the same two [keys], namely the
tonic, C, and its fifth, G. Just as if, e.g., a steward (Meyer)111 and his foreman
(Oberknecht) work in the field and speak to each other with perpetual ques-
tions and answers. C is like the steward and G is like the foreman.112 [66]
Disc. Furthermore, our steward, who is in charge of the household on the

estate of the honorable lord baron, has several people, namely 1) a foreman
(Oberknecht), 2) a chief maid (Obermagd), 3) an assistant maid (Unterma-
gd), 4) a day laborer (Taglöbner), 5) an errand girl (Unterläufferin), and,
beyond these, often black Gredel (schwarze Gredel), his neighbor, must help
to work a small piece of land. But the steward is always the first and the last
at work and the most industrious among them all.
Prec. You are really catching onto the idea of this story. I beg you, remember
this order well! For there could be, in all the world, no better analogy to tonal
order than this ready at hand. Just a little patience: I must tell you something
else before concluding.
Disc. I would prefer that. I only began to speak with so much energy, so that
I could rest little, for you have made my head quite dizzy this past half hour
with such abundant examples. Even the steward always sits down a while and
observes what his people are doing. And mental work drains one’s strength
111
The steward on many farms is practically the lease-holder. Elsewhere, again, he is a half-
farmer, who has his own house. I use this word in the way that it is understood in my homeland
and in Monsberg.
112
On the other hand, the fifth is called also the dominant (the ruler) in several musical writings.
I know, however, nothing more than nota dominans or modus dominans. This last [expression]
would not fit well with a tonality with the minor third, except in fugues, as we shall see. The
term nota elegans, etc., have I also seen once in a book. Since, however, a work by the author,
himself, came into my hands, in which I found very few notas elegantes, I have been able to
form no correct idea of this term.
253
even more. I will prolong the Allegro immediately afterwards. Just tell me
what you want to say.
Prec. I have read, not only in Kircher but also in several more recent and gen-
erally more trustworthy authors,113 that in America there is an animal about
the size of a cat, which inspires everyone’s compassion with its ghastly and
yet pathetic face and, thereby, preserves its life. On the other hand no human
power can tear loose from it what it once holds fast in its extraordinarily large
and strong claws. No one knows, even at this time, what kind of food it eats,
or even if it eats. It is called Pigritia or sloth because it cannot roam much
farther than a across a grove in fourteen days. It requires two days to climb to
the top of a tree (where it generally is in the habit of staying) and two more
days to climb down again. The Spaniards call it by I don’t know what other
name. American settlers, however, call it a haud, perhaps because it lets itself
be heard nightly in the following way, e.g.
It stops on every interval for the sake of clarity, as you can see.
Disc. That is an astonishing musical wonder of nature. Just as if this wretched

little animal wanted to sing either with letters, or, e.g.
Prec. Truly a wonder, for exactly this number of scale degrees and no more can
essentially be used in the tonal order (e.g., here in C). C is, thus, the steward or
tonic pitch,114 G is the foreman, A with the minor third is the chief maid, E with
the minor third is the assistant maid, F is the day laborer, D with the minor third
113
Actually, for the first time a few days ago in a Saxon musical lexicon.
114
The boy even calls him Mr. Steward. If the polite title perhaps even comes into use among
the farmers, then the struggle over rank between whole- and half-farmers will at last really
start. I was recently even more shocked in that I heard of one wealthy court farmer named Flo-
rian von Steinbruch. Except that I learned immediately afterward that only his farm held the
name “von Steinbruch” from time immemorial. Why are the French not as addicted to pomp
in this matter as we are? In order to come up with a sensible heading for a letter, and not to sin
against the aristocracy, the farmers will soon have to start learning French. Shame on us and
our language. Only our music remains free from the French fashion.
254
is the errand girl. C with the minor third is, on the other hand, the chief maid
of E[ However, because she can sometimes also help here, we will also let her
represent the black Gredel. I will display this only in a miniature, e.g.
[67] You see, the steward or tonic C often returns, even in the middle, as if
he wanted continually to deliver new orders or reports. In a word, he must
be left neither out of sight nor out of hearing. Everything winds and turns
around him as a cat turns around the mash. Through him one can get to any
of his subordinates in an instant, e.g.
255
That advantage must be at hand without interruption. If I omit the black

Gredel and the steward from the middle, however, I can represent the preced-
ing example by means of letters, e.g.
C—G—A—E—F—D—C
In an Allegro of a symphony or a concerto, however, we use none beyond

the foreman and occasionally the chief maid.115 The steward is already un-
derstood. The rest of them generally occur only as caesuras or commas and
always alternate with one another, and precisely this way: the day laborer
makes the monte, the errand girl the fonte, and the foreman always takes
the ponte for himself, e.g.
[68] By means of the two + signs you will notice that I have called upon the
steward each time in order to direct myself toward the successively appointed
middle keys. I said before that the rest [of the keys] can alternate with one
another. In order to show you this, I will now omit the ponte and monte, e.g.
Many pieces also sound too common and pedestrian in their use of the sixth degree.
115
256
Or I will compose instead a monte from a fonte, e.g.
Disc. The free alternation of monte, fonte, and ponte is already known to me
from horn pieces. And I already could have seen the chief maid (namely the
modulation to the sixth degree, A, as a feminine tonality) in the Allegro in the
first chapter on pages 53 to 54. In the second Allegro, namely on page 56, the
opening is repeated just as above, with a ponte after the cadence in G, e.g.
[69] However, one could entirely omit such a repetition of the opening, that
is the ponte, at one’s pleasure, and likewise, after the cadence +, turn toward
the chief maid, A, e.g.
257
What pleases me most, however, is that I, myself, composed these two Al-
legros, since we wrote the first chapter together. The first has the alla-breve
style, and the second has the common-time style. I even went to the sixth de-
gree, A, and from there back again by means of the ponte, namely as follows:
C—G—A—C
In this I merely followed my ear. This structure must already be found in

nature, not that I would want to make an analogy between myself and the
above-mentioned sloth. So that I now really have become acquainted with
this structure, I will likewise use it to arrange your Allegro, which you set
down about four minutes ago, in sixty-four measures, and will meanwhile
now prolong it a little, e.g.
258
[70] I have prolonged the two comma [segments] at the beginning, which
was not really necessary. I could also have repeated the two measures follow-
ing the + sign, had I wished to, just as one sees at S in the second half. I have
written “beginning of the second part” at the letter P, for a major repetition
could be placed there by means of the sign :║: . However this major repeti-
tion is seldom used any more these days, as far as I can see. It may perhaps
indicate the composer’s poverty of ideas.
Prec. The double bar is certainly a very easy way to prolong a piece. But that
is no reason to reject the concept of an opening Allegro. Just look, however,
259
at the Andante and the final Allegro in symphonies116 by great masters. One
will see the :║: as often as not. Because a symphony is written only as a
introduction or opening117 at the theater or at a concert,118 all composers not
only achieve prolongation by means of the :║: but some (I say, not all) Ital-
ians throw together such bad introductory symphonies that one would almost
believe that they do it in order to make the voices that follow sound better.
Disc. I am, however, of just the opposite opinion, for such a symphony could
spoil the whole opera for me. At the same time, a strong [opening] can el-
evate, cover up, and, in part, improve many weak things. Now, however, fur-
ther: at the ++ I have once more leapt quickly downward to the lower octave
from the high D. From letter P onward, [until] that point [++], all the notes
for my harmony (application) are easy for the fingers, for I know that in this
case you give great consideration to simplicity.
Prec. Certainly I give as much consideration to [ease of execution] as to met-

ric and tonal order themselves—those that can be achieved without difficulty.
For difficulties can be composed even by a peasant, if he has merely made a
little beginning in music. I knew several of them in Bohemia.
Disc. Instead of the fonte at letter Q, I will immediately form a monte. At

letter R I have, afterward, made an insertion of four measures, which I could
have omitted according to necessity. I should have set the two measures at
letter S together with the previous two measures an octave higher in view of
the [71] two-measure rise in the first part at the sign +. Only the difficulty of
fingering held me back from doing it. I would have gone up much too far.
In order not to write out the whole Allegro again, I will only write the two
measures before letter Q, in order to show you a monte instead of a fonte, e.g.
116
Symphonia: good-sounding harmony in music. There can be found often, also, unfortu-
nately, a symphonia discors especially when the composer, himself, is incorrectly tuned. This
misfortune has not yet befallen me where I am in service, because I came from people of good
sense.
117
That is why a symphony is also often called an overture (ouverture), which French word
seems to have been taken over even by many Italians, for I have heard overtura said more than
once; but apertura from aperire [aprire], “to open,” not once. An ouverture always consisted
of a brief, heavy Andante and a fugue following immediately thereafter. Instead of a final Alle-
gro, Gavottes or other pieces were composed. Since that time, however, especially in Germany
and Italy, the theater has been opened by means of a symphony just as well.
118
Concerto, here, means a performance of music. Speakers of Romance languages, however,
say collegium musicum or also accademia. “Concert” comes from the word concertare, to
strive with each other, because in a [performance of] music, now this one now that one puts
oneself forward and is heard in a solo in order to win a victory. Many, however, come merely
for a glass of wine or for applause.
260
Here, in order to create a monte that rises by one step, I have written six
measures, namely three measures for each member [of the chordal sequence],
just as the previous fonte, which fell by one step. Hopefully you will believe
that I could have stretched them out longer, even twice as long. Accordingly,
I will vary this Allegro industriously several hundred ways at home by means
of repetition, expansion, prolonging or shortening the [segments punctuated
by] commas, doubling of cadences, and insertion, at my pleasure. But what
do you think of it the way it is now?
Prec. For anyone who likes a clear melody it is quite good, for there are
enough commas in it to separate one [segment of] melody from the other.
However, it is also said that the purpose of a symphony119 must be to knock
down everything. Accordingly your Allegro might not be lively enough for
many people.
Disc. Thus I should perhaps make the commas hang together more, e.g.
Example 578, continued.
119
Requisitum Symphoniae. For that reason, a rather rioting symphony is also called by many
an overture. On the other hand, one that rather sings retains the name symphony. However,
I consider both [types] equally competent. Besides, I do not know to what extent the singing
[type] or the rioting [type] must be propagated. To be sure, a distinction is probably to be made
between tragedy and comedy.
261
Example 578, cont.
[72] Prec. Stop! I already know that you are in a position to bring an Allegro
to its conclusion, even to write symphonies one after the other for three days
on end. Certainly the commas hang together better here; for that reason it
may even sound a bit more lively than the previous Allegro.
Disc. I must first quickly explain to you that I have omitted the ■–comma,
and I have likewise interrupted the goldfinch with the □–comma at the +.
You will also see the fivesome repeated by means of the Gredel. At the letter
P a forte begins, which belongs to the key of G; it consists of two successive
threesomes. I hope that such a slightly confusing arrangement of measures
cannot be too harmful. At letter Q I have abandoned the Gredel, and I am. . . .
Prec. I am not worried today about metric order. I will merely advise you that
you should not be too artful but rather you always should carefully follow
your ear. For complete knowledge of metric order is only good insofar as one
knows immediately why many melodies do not sound good. And the same is
true of tonal order. In fact, I myself often pay it no proper heed. Look, here I
262
have laid out several horn symphonies by both German and Italian masters.
We will examine one after another.120
Disc. With your permission, I will sketch out all the whole [movement] for
you on the basis of my previous theme, so that I may consider the changes
more clearly and quickly. Toward the end I will also write only quarter notes
and eighth notes instead of the running, boisterous, and leaping sixteenth
notes that are found in it at several places. It is enough if I merely learn,
thereby, to recognize what. . . .
Prec. Here, in a similar vein, you have the first [horn symphony] by a Ger-
man master.
Disc. I already see that his commas hang together better than mine do. There-
fore, let us begin, e.g.
120
Such considerations are very healthy. However, it is also salutary if one already knows a
little bit beforehand. Since many put strange things in their score and never know why many
passages can make a good effect when the violas go in unison with the basses or why often
both violin parts go in unison together or why at the same time the violas and the basses go in
unison together so that out of four voices only two are heard. Whoever does not understand
counterpoint probably can also not comprehend such things. The word partitur or partitura
comes from the Italian word partire, from the Latin partiri, “to divide” and otherwise means
“to depart.” Hence, many take rather the word simply from sparta (“saving”), as in spartitura
or spartimento. This word sparta comes from the Italian spartire, “to distribute,” because a
composer takes the subject already conceived in his mind and distributes it on the musical
manuscript paper among the middle voices, etc. Others use the French word tablature. Tabla-
ture shows the notes or letters that one plays on the keyboard or lute. Finally the simple organ
bass is called a partitura only incorrectly.
263
Example 579, cont.
264
[74] One can certainly tell that this Allegro was composed by a master. It all
hangs together; everything flows. Furthermore, it was in D major, which is a
much more lively key than C, in which I have written it here. Where he wrote
sixteenth notes I, in several places, have used eighth notes for brevity. Really
wonderful: at letter L he seems to have wanted to return with the opening
theme in the fifth (the foreman), but he only began it in a regular way at letter
N, in order to put off and entice the ear for a few measures. At letter M the
repetition is heard more beautifully in the minor, because it is soon thereafter
given up. The whole Allegro consists only of the tonic, C, and the fifth, for
at letter O he allowed the sixth degree (chief maid) to appear for only a little
while; likewise the fourth, F, at letter P and the second, D, or the errand girl,
at letter A. At letter R, I would have thought that he would repeat an entire
[first] half from the beginning. He soon draws it to a close, however. In a
word, there are many pleasing things in it. I have only two doubts. I know
that here and there in the middle he cuts away a half measure. Why, however,
at the beginning, at letter I, doesn’t he write it as he does at the single +, or as
it is at the double sign ++? For it seems to me that at letter I there is either a
half measure too much or too little, contrary to nature. I would have written
it in the following way, e.g.
If there were a little alteration in the notes between this letter I and the double
++, such an alteration would, perhaps, not ruin it as much as it would make
the composition richer in ideas. At the single + , metric order would certainly
be more correct (omitting the foregoing measures), namely as follows:
265
From these two described methods, as you see, all the following measures
would come into better order.
Prec. You are right. But such a great master no longer composes or studies,
but rather he just writes, that is, all his ideas already lie on the tip of his quill
in order to please the ear as if from a distance. And he has all the less incen-
tive to return a while to the ABCs of counterpoint. In the first chapter I said
to you that a little disorder often flows more pleasingly into the ear. Certainly
you and I may not stray so far. [75]
Disc. I believe it. At letter K, however, I have still a greater doubt.
Prec. I believe it. We now leave aside the names of the steward and his helpers
and rather speak seriously. You know that the tonic note of C with the major
third is also the same as for C with the minor third, and further that it is prin-
cipally assisted by D, E, F, G, and A. Of these, F and G have the major third.
These two, according to one composer, can readily take the minor third for a
short while, just as is to be seen at letter M and at the end, at letter S. Now, how-
ever, the three other auxiliaries, D, E, and A, are already with the minor third.
Disc. Then, the other way around, these three can sometimes be altered with
the major third, right?
Prec. No. You have certainly never heard that in your whole life, e.g.,121
Here in the first example, A [minor] brings along E with the major third +,
but it is only a □–comma, which belongs to the feminine [minor] key of A.
I once tried out some measures with it. It did not please, however. It is different to place a
121
sharp in front of one, two, three, or a few notes according to fashion.
266
In the second example, D brings along A with the major third ++, but this is
only a □–comma, which belongs to the feminine [minor] key of D. Further, a
third and fourth example:
Here in the third example. G brings along D with the major third, but it is
only a □–comma, which belongs to the key of G. In the fourth or last exam-
ple, E brings along B with the major third, but it is only a □–comma, which
belongs to the feminine [minor] key of E.
Disc. Here in the last example, [in] E [minor], I will make a knot in the cor-
ner of your handkerchief in order to remind you of the B a bit later. Now,
however, why did the master remain in D with the major third so long at let-
ter K, which key is completely foreign to the tonic, C, and runs contrary to
everything in our ears?
Prec. It happened in order to awaken the ears a little bit. And because it is
designated Allegro assai, those notes also run by very quickly. What is, how-
ever, to be noticed is that all these notes belong to the following key of G.
Furthermore, such sharped transitions or modulations are very seldom heard
and seen.
Disc. I believe it, for I would have rather written it in the following way,
namely I would have wanted to come in with G, e.g.
Or in an orderly fashion in the feminine [minor] key of D, as it perhaps is

otherwise usually suitable, e.g.
267
Prec. As an alteration, this is just as incomparable as the previous. Go a little

further; you are already on the right road.122
Disc. Now I will go back to untie the knot in the handkerchief and ask why
the seventh degrees, B natural and B flat, have never been mentioned before,
since they are contained within the octave just as the second, third, fourth,
fifth, and sixth degrees are? [76]
Prec. I can well answer: because the American sloth, with his song, only goes
up to the sixth and not to the seventh degree. But we diligent and rational
creatures know to use these seventh degrees, B natural and B flat, as passing
notes, caesuras, and □–commas, so that we cannot bear to be deprived of its
help even once.
Disc. I already know from my lord that we, by means of our intellect, can
roam the whole world in only two or three minutes, and observe everything
in it. That must surely leave the sloth behind. I already know about the B flat.
But (leaving aside passing notes and caesuras) how would a comma on B flat
look when the tonic is C?
Prec. That is a little difficult to show you quickly. Nevertheless, I will extract
a few measures from the end as well as from the middle of an Allegro, e.g.
122
I always merely try to lead discantists onto the smooth and even road, for the only er-
ror of most beginners is that they generally fall into debauchery and difficulties. A few of
them have remained stuck there into old age. As soon as he is out of my hands, his lord, the
schoolmaster, may do with him what he will, as far as I am concerned. He is still young, and
he has more to learn.
268
Disc. This melody that reaches all the way to B[ + seems to me even less
endurable than the foregoing one by the master at letter K, because it would
belong better in the key of F. I will wait fifteen years more before my ears
accept such a precipitous melody (others have leave to discover such strange
and delicate things sooner). It would sound more natural, in my judgement, if
I made the comma + only on the fourth, F, e.g.
Prec. Good and more than good. The foregoing example was certainly bad.
I am glad that you now recognize the seventh degree + , B flat, as acciden-
tal and not essential. Here you have another symphony by another German
master.
Disc. I still have something remember about the previous Allegro, however.
In addition to his <theme>, the master has two principal clauses, which he
repeats constantly with pitch alterations and, at the same time, always a little
varied, namely these, e.g.
Additionally, he has still other passages and ornaments. My lord says, how-
ever, that a composer must stay with his <theme> as a preacher with the
gospel.
Prec. The master also always stayed with his <theme>. A preacher cannot
constantly repeat and read aloud the gospel, but he must interpret it. He even
makes passages or <transitions>, etc. After a thesis he has, at the very least,
an antithesis. For example, “do good” [77] might be the thesis and “do bad”
the antithesis. Therefore, he draws now happy parables now sorrowful stories
from the holy scriptures, and he explains with them what can result either
from good or from bad. Or he demonstrates that he who fails to do what is
269
good does what is bad, even if he does not actually do evil. Just as when a
musical chord is sustained, immobile, for a half day, it may not sound so pure
any longer. Or it is as if the composer wrote always according to the mere
rules, without troubling himself about the effect.123
Disc. Such an argument seems to be just like an insertion in music.
Prec. Be that as it may. I am only making an analogy.124 And your lord hope-
fully meant it in that way as well. However, strive to stay with the <theme> as
much as possible, the antitheses will soon flow from the quill by themselves.
And here the analogy stops.
Disc. One more thing. Since the master has no important or regularly ex-
ecuted cadence on the sixth degree, A, the Allegro can be represented by
miniature letters in no way but as follows:
C—G—C
Prec. One uses the sixth much less in an Andante and final Allegro, be-
cause they are usually composed briefly. Rather one goes from the tonic, C,
to the fifth, G, and then back to C.
Disc. That is something new. Is it a rule?
Prec. It is not exactly a rule but good advice. In brief, in an Andante the sixth
degree sounds too musical, that is, it seems to be either too unnatural or
too natural, because it does not have enough material to elaborate or to ex-
pand. Hence, one can still make the second part a bit longer than the first, at
one’s pleasure. There may also be the sign :║: or (according to the opinion of
many) better not. In this, one can often make the sixth heard a bit in passing,
as the previous master did in his Allegro.
Disc. What if I want to make an Andante or final Allegro somewhat long?
Prec. You can do as you like, as far as I care. I will not let myself be tied down
on this account, provided that one does not stray from nature.
123
Effectus, effect.
124
I am thinking of one day writing a chapter on rhetoric, especially on the rhetorical figures,
in the hope that it would also be of help to beginners in executing a piece of music, if only we
first have the more necessary essentials.
270
Disc. Let me see, I will thus compose this second symphony, but with my
previous theme and with plain notes in C, e.g.
271
Example 590, cont.
272
[79] Wonderful. This entire symphony is tied together by the short Andante,
begun and ended in one breath. In my circles, I have never yet heard this ar-
rangement. The Andante begins with a fonte. Perhaps I could have begun it
also with a monte, e.g.
Prec. Have no doubt of it! In the last measure of the (first) Allegro, it could
have a fermata ,125 and a regular Andante could be carried out, at one’s
pleasure, in G or in F, e.g.
For the Andante in F, the bass would have to begin ex abrupto, namely on C, e.g.
125
Which sign is also called a corona.
273
Disc. That sounds quite strange. Thus, I could form a fermata on G after the
final cadence, e.g. NB that the violin has B natural: [80]
In the second part of the Andante, the final note, F, was omitted after the repeti-
tion, which I have indicated here with the numbers 1 and 2. If I wanted to make
the Andante without the :║: , I would not need all this fuss, anyway. It could,
however, be an Andante in 3/4, or a Grave in 2/4, and just as short or also a little
longer. Or the Grave could stand all alone in 2/4 time, or several such measures
(without Grave) could have the same tempo as the Andante. Right?
Prec. Without doubt, and in all Θ, that is, many thousand.
Disc. In this connection, our innkeeper also says “many thousand things” all
the time, when the people ask him what he has to eat and drink. But as soon
as he becomes serious, it turns out he has only a bit of sour beer in the cellar.
Prec. The reason why I had the bass begin ex abrupto in C earlier and not in
the tonic F is because an unusual opening sounds bad when it stands one step
higher or lower.126
Disc. By lower you mean, perhaps, the seventh degree, e.g.
Prec. Yes, that is what I meant. It is only good to begin on the third, fourth,
fifth, or sixth degrees.
It is the same for major or minor seconds or sevenths. More about his tomorrow. In a melo-
126
dy, however, there are minor seconds or sevenths, as well as major, as long as the <mi against
fa> and the forbidden fifths and octaves are avoided.
274
Disc. I do not wonder about the seventh on that account. But the second de-
gree, which otherwise can serve a key as a transition, is found, to my knowl-
edge, in a C-major aria that I have at home, in which the composer closes the
second part in D minor and begins again da capo in C. For now, I will leave
out the ritornello and set out only a few notes of the vocal part to give you
the idea, e.g.
In another aria, also in this key, the composer, after closing with the voice
part likewise in D, does not begin in C da capo but returns to C by means of
a few measures with the instruments + , e.g.
[81] After this, he similarly has the voice begin again (without the opening
ritornello), which is how the sign is to be understood. Only now, however,
am I finally beginning to understand, for the cadence in D strikes me as the
first member of a fonte, and after it the following preparation with the violins
serves at last as the second member of the fonte. To my ears it certainly seems
to be a thousand times better than if one simply stumbled from the D back to
the C, even though it is simply D minor.
Prec. Nevertheless, I saw a symphony by a master six years ago, in C major

with an Andante nevertheless in B flat.
Disc. How can that be? B flat, as the seventh degree, must sound simply
terrible there.
275
Prec. He prepared the key of B flat over the course of one or two measures, e.g.
You must imagine, however, how the first and last Allegros as well as the
Andante were completed, for I have shown you only the beginning of each.
Disc. I see that already. But with such a precipitous and forced transition
there [into B-flat] and back again, that master must have meant it as a joke.
Prec. I think so, too.
Disc. I would rather ask, then, whether a twosome is long enough to serve as
an insertion?
276
Prec. Certainly. As long as it does not happen too often. Otherwise such an
insertion can, at the same time, be heard as an antithesis and can be prolonged
here or there at will. You can, meanwhile, quickly make an alla-breve ca-
dence instead of a common-time cadence, etc., e.g. [82]
Or the other way around. For now I am giving you more freedom, because
you know that metric order exists in the world.
Disc. Now, that also pleases me to some extent. At home I will correctly
expand and adorn symphonies, concertos, solos, and arias with extension,
measure repetition, cadence doubling, and insertion, in order to make the
melody more flowing.
Prec. But not too artificially; that will come with time.
Disc. The last Allegro of a symphony, etc., can also often be in 2/4 time, or
even in alla breve. Or perhaps can it instead be composed as a singing Tempo
moderato or Tempo «di minuetto»?
Prec. Yes indeed. For a thousand concertos, symphonies, and solos have a
thousand different arrangements. Nevertheless, it is difficult that a composer
is not recognized as the same even when he changes his taste so much.
Disc. In this connection our Philip often says that he knows the compositions
of the chapel master of Opolisburg in an instant, just because of their beauty.
Prec. Yet there are also composers who are simply satisfied by planning and
carrying out one piece like another, that is, when one has heard one of them, it
is just as if he has heard a hundred. It can also be that they themselves are not
aware of this. And perhaps I myself have this fault. For generally variety or
abundance of ideas makes beauty and the composer. The rules, or the ABCs,
are certainly always presupposed.
Disc. Our Philip, however, knows still another chapel master who makes his
pieces, for the most part, unclear because of the abundance of his thoughts,
even though he may have come up with a good clause here or there.
277
Prec. He may, perhaps, just lack the fundamentals or the ABCs. The title re-
ally means almost nothing. Therefore one must be glad for him that there,
where he is in service, he can give sufficient pleasure, that the musical world
is expanded more than dishonored by him
Disc. Enough of your musical world! We would rather look forward. Give me
the third symphony. I see already from a distance a glaring lack of clarity. In
my transcription, I will once again only use the plain notes, e.g.
I cannot give myself the trouble to write out any more. The thing goes up and
down again, and up again, etc. The composer of it is really too full of ideas,
for he has four antitheses already at the beginning, and later on he adds a
thousand more.
Prec. That doesn’t mean that he is full of ideas, but rather one is full of ideas
when one knows how boldly to link together one, two, or three antitheses.
Disc. He exposes the fifth and the sixth degrees only a little at the beginning,
after which he no longer trusts himself to leave the tonic, C, so that the whole
symphony looks like a wolf’s intestines and sounds like a barn dance. Just
like two symphonies that my lord had recently received even from Italy. I
would never in my life have believed they came here from so far away.
Prec. I once heard an upright Italian speak about it. The good composers
among them are almost more hidden there than in other countries because the
number of miserable scribblers is similarly far too large. [83]
278
Disc. Now the fourth symphony, here:
Here all the parts form a unison together until NB ✠, where the theme, prop-
er, begins. At ✠ ✠the □–comma is cut away, without which cut it could have
been, e.g.
The rest of the minor cuts and alterations are already well known, because this
Allegro does not modulate farther than the fifth, G. The Andante and the last
Allegro, on the other hand, modulate to the sixth, A, in addition to the fifth,
which seemed strange to me at first glance. Now the fifth symphony, e.g.
279
Example 604, cont.
280
[84] I believe you are working hard to find such strange symphonies for me.
Where I have placed the sign ✠, I find three whole or common measures in
succession. This happens by means of repetition or pitch alteration. Here the
composer cuts out a measure, and there he adds one. While he [85] certainly
goes toward the fifth, G, he never once makes a formal cadence in it, but he
stays almost throughout in the tonic, C. That may well happen in order to
make an Allegro more flowing and livelier. However, when an antithesis is
heard three times in succession, he could certainly please the ear better.
Prec. You should, however, form no immutable rule from this: rather it simply
demonstrates, as it were, an overwhelming zeal. Such repetitions can often be
heard in a truly lively Allegro of, NB, Italian symphonies. I am not completely
ill-disposed toward them once in a while.127
Disc. However, because it has many important measures in the fifth, for plea-
sure I will still set out the miniature of it as follows, e.g.
C—G—C
Wait! I have forgotten something. It contains two piano markings. The one in
the first part is heard in the fifth, G, e.g.
The one in the other half looks almost the same as the monte, e.g.
127
I once heard it said, “<Things repeated twice are liked, thrice even more>.” It does not
always work, however, even less in all things when it is changed to “<things repeated ten
times>.” For the poet is not to be trusted.
281
It offends the ear a bit. The monte, however, would come across more clearly
in the following manner, e.g.
And in view of the first one in the fifth, he could have set it thus, if he liked,
e.g.
Or in the low register:
Or only halfway:
Or:
282
Or:
[86] [Or:]
Look how the art of confusion or of invention already helps me to work.
Prec. Well and good. However, he could have begun in the key of C and made
a □–comma here, for the ear really tires of such similarity, e.g.
Or, in order to deceive the ear even more, he could have done this exactly as
at first but in the fifth, G, and then thereafter ended normally in C, e.g.
Those ideas are often found in an aria. However, you already know that one
must be sparing with decorative features in order not to make them too com-
monplace.
Disc. It is true, it sounds strange and unusual. Thus, a piano repeated in the
other half may be more than enough in an Allegro of a symphony, especially
since it can be simultaneously viewed as an insertion. In this connection, still
one and another measure could be repeated piano here and there. But I have al-
ready often noticed that if several similar piano insertions appear in an Allegro,
283
the symphony becomes far too soft and sleepy. At home I will write a few
Allegros and only put one piano in each of them without repeating it; in this
one I will place it right after the beginning, in another Allegro in the middle
or at the end before the cadence, or even after the cadence and thereafter set
the cadence again, either shortened or prolonged. In a word, whatever the
art of variations suggests to me. The choral director at Vallethal says that
many composers put the piano mostly in the wrong place because they do not
know how or why to write it that way. “They,” he says accordingly, “have a
headache and lay plaster over their eyes.” I really believe that one must have
heard a lot of good music in the world in order to achieve the true effect in
this. But I have as yet heard little, and nevertheless I can correct Hansmichel
in his compositions, which he fills with thousands of pianos and fortes, per-
haps only because he has seen it that way in other compositions. But have
patience. Because in composition everything can be varied and prolonged, so
our composer could have even also prolonged the piano, at will, as long as it
were not, perhaps, much too slack for a symphony Allegro, e.g.
It could, however, even appear in the tonality in which it previously appeared.

If I wanted to form the following cadence in G out of it, it could also be done
that way, if desired, e.g.
For the cadence in C would sound too precipitous and harsh after the □–
comma at the NB. It is already known that it could, however, be still longer,
e.g. [87]
284
Or even without a major repetition, e.g.
In short, many thousand ways. But now I notice the alla-breve style here. In
the common-time style it would certainly sound more lively. Nevertheless,
whoever would want to have the alla-breve style more lively than singing
could actually arrange the bass, viola, and second violins for this.
Prec. You are right. For the accompaniment128 can enliven things throughout,
at one’s pleasure.
Disc. I usually do it, in general, this way, e.g.
The Urbsstädter, however, calls the one as well as the other a drum bass.
Accompagnamento, from accompagnare, to accompany or keep company, to participate,

128
whereby the middle voices are helpers to the upper, primary, or principal voice.
285
Prec. He is not very bright.129 However, to give each of the four voices, from
time to time, a different animation is really not counterpoint, but merely gives
a lively effect here and there, e.g.
.[88] Or the bass is given its own melody for a while, e.g.
However, I do not mean that the bass has a melody right at the beginning but
that such a melody can also be incorporated and expanded several times in
the middle of an Allegro. Notice, here, that the open A string of the viola is
an octave higher than the open A string of the cello, and that the cello A is an
octave higher, in turn, than that of the contrabass.130 Accordingly, the con-
129
I will express my opinion about such unfounded and childish insults in the chapter on the
bass. If that, however, does not please the Urbsstädter, he may stay with his own opinion, as
far as I am concerned.
130
A short- or small-bodied instrument certainly seems actually to produce a lower pitch. One
observes this with the transverse flute. One may, however, sometimes allow even the violins
in the high register to go in unison with a bass singing voice or a bassoon, indeed, however
one can better bring out the effect. The organ has quint and octave registers. That is why, a
286
trabass is grandfather to the viola. Now for just that reason I should have set
the viola in the last example an octave lower in order to seem more in unison
with the bass, e.g.
I have observed this almost every time in an Adagio, etc., when the bass
has a clause, an imitation, or its own melody. Only when the violins are set
strongly enough and are undivided can the viola, as before, go into the upper
octave, because in that way it cuts through the bass and helps it to rise.
Disc. It is true that as soon as the violins have a rest one hears the violas in
the upper register and the contrabasses in the lower singing together, like
daughter and father. I have noticed that more than once in passing. But why
haven’t you used a fifth, G, in the harmony of either of the two examples
just previous to the last given? And in the last one I don’t see one single use
of the third, E. I would rather fill it out beautifully, as I learned to do on the
harpsichord, e.g. [89]
________________
few years ago, a musical Frenchman said to me, “«Everything in between makes wind»,” a fat
belly makes you sloppy. I asked him, however, whether the outer voices might be covered up
by (the filling out of) the middle voices. With that, he was gone.
287
Prec. If I were you, I would write it that way, too. However, by means of such
filling out, the melody or effect often is only more hindered.131 The Dorians,
Phrygians, etc., usually wrote full chords. But it is now a different world; you
cannot return to that one. In time you will increasingly see, to your astonish-
ment, just how empty one frequently makes a setting these days. Neverthe-
less, one piece is not like another; consequently also one composer is not like
another. For that reason, I do not look down upon your two examples at all,
but I want to have merely told you that a bass melody is clear and pleasing
just to the extent that the inner parts are shallow and empty.
Disc. That is why I have often wondered from whence this tiny little thing,
the viola, should obtain the power to reinforce the bass so much by playing in
unison. Certainly three voices are perceived more clearly than four, and two
are more pleasing than three. Must one, therefore, always write the two vio-
lins stoutly in unison and also have the viola and bass go together, likewise?
Prec. Be careful! It is not a rule, but it can only occasionally be that way for
the sake of the effect.
Disc. Three years ago the chapel master in Opolisburg had to compose an
opera in haste. He composed the last aria so hurriedly that he did not think of
the effect. But this very aria had the greatest effect, much to everyone’s and
his surprise. Such a great man!
131
Another time I will say it differently, but the young man should not be confused by that.
288
Prec. From that it is to be concluded that no one is done learning. Namely,

from your story the rule is simply to be drawn that one must search for the
effect as long as one lives.
Disc. Now seriously, we have been writing notes long enough. We now want
to chat a bit more together.
Prec. Your chattering is keeping me from my lunch. It is actually, as I see,

already 2 in the afternoon.
Disc. I am not yet hungry. Day [or] no day. The Urbsstädter always says (I
must finally show my colors) that the chapel master does not fill out enough
but uses only two voices in many musical pieces, namely the two violins in
unison and the violas with the basses also in unison.
Prec. The Urbsstädter does not know why that happens.132 The chapel master
will gladly forgive him for it provided that he recognizes it or at least when
he thinks about it. For that which is a rule at one time can be contrary to the
rules another time.
Disc. He says that the chapel master writes only Zschentschi songs, and if one
had the rule, one could make a soup of it. But I do not understand the word
Zschentschi.
Prec. By the sound of it, it is certainly taken from the Italian word cencio,
“rubbish,” “rag,” or “ragged,” such as is offered for sale at the flee market.
Notice, now, how offensive and insulting it sounds! However, I have already
noticed that the pitiful Urbsstädter is merely a rule composer. Thus he writes
nothing more than vain ABCs. He doesn’t even know that the rules them-
selves are invented in the course of composition and furthermore are con-
tinuously revised.133 I know other similar upstart heros who want to force and
obligate people to their bad taste, that is, to their ABC rules. One or another
even believes that an injustice has been done, and even dies over it. In fact,
one could not dream of anything crazier. Why not rather live and let live?
Disc. You are right. The Urbsstädter is now making every effort possible to
make a soup or broth of his rules. But it will no longer align the back with the
Therefore, I will concede absolutely nothing to the discantist in the chapter on counterpoint.
132
I must say more to the discantist than I can answer for in order to make him immune to the
133
Urbsstädter.
289
front. He, himself, now puts so many drum basses one after the other that one
becomes bored with it. Therefore, many recognize that. [90] When they hear
the Urbsstädter’s compositions played for three hours on end, they become
ill. When, however, they hear, at last, just a single aria by the chapel master
they become well again. From that I conclude that I ought not to compose
what is pleasing to such a rule-bound composer, because he cannot give me
any bread but rather must look for his bread himself. He has recently set
Hansmichel to learning the difficult keys with \ and [ at the keyboard.
Prec. That is a good idea. For thereafter one can compose in the easier keys,
such as C, D, E, F, G, A, B-flat, etc. with less difficulty.
Disc. Hansmichel, however, now no longer wants to play or compose in the

easy keys. In that way he has been lead into nothing but artifice, or it may be
a question of talent. His beard may have already grown over and over again
because of this, and yet he is still so childish. For if any doubt should arise, he
claims to know better than anyone else. Not even his master, the Urbsstädter,
himself, may speak. And when, from time to time, I must look over some-
thing and correct it, he invariably says, “Yes, that is just how I wanted to
make it.” If, however, a stranger arrives unexpectedly, heavens! He startles
and is struck dumb. He puts away his compositions in a twinkling and begins
to explain his own rules to me, just as if his extraordinary intelligence, or
deeply rooted arrogance, would help him out. I take this as a compliment, for
he thinks I am blind.
Prec. That is not new in the world.134 But just keep on going, for you can learn
more that way than from many a master. I am never ashamed135 to ask others
openly for the solution to a problem. It has more often hurt me that I was not
able to succeed in that. How happy I was about fourteen years ago when a
rather solid composer (a really upright and harmonious soul) explained one
and another equivocal principle to me in just a few hours. Prior to that, most
[composers] had given me nothing but a mocking answer and then sent me
back with my questions only even more confused that before. Soon one of
them asked whether I were in a position to pay for such costly lessons. Then
another [teacher] advised me to give up composition entirely, since it was too
difficult for me, and everything else that such despicable braggarts say. For
134
It would certainly benefit such a man if he would recite, thirty or forty times a day, the fol-
lowing little verse: <If, foolishly, you are ashamed to learn, you will remain a barbarian>.
135
<We cannot all do everything>. Whoever knows me, knows it. I accept anything gladly
when someone does me a good deed.
290
that reason I have always tried, ever since, to get revenge, namely, in that I
expose and share with beginners, etc., as much or as little as I have picked
up here and there.
Disc. That revenge is also useful to me. I thank you heartily for it. There is, as
my lord said, no man without faults, only that the faults of each are different
from the others’.
Prec. A half-grown orator136 in Opolisburg recently tried to maintain that in

front of a Latin class in the great lecture hall. But he carried on about it so
arrogantly that nearly all of his listeners left. Only I, alone, was so stupid as
to remain until the end. Even now I cannot get many of his uncouth sentences
out of my head.137
Disc. Perhaps he stated the truth too obviously. We want to write some more
notes for a while, for something has occurred to me. You wrote a little cae-
sura or comma on the fifth of the tonic in order to arrive at the sixth degree
more easily, e.g.
Beginning of the second part of an Allegro in C.
One can also go all at once likewise from G to A, that is, from the fifth to the
sixth degree, as my lord did, e.g.
<A good orator, or rather, a desert>. [A pun: Orator disertus, aut potius desertus.]
136
<There is an infinite number of fools; but there are so many types of their insanity that
137
neither folly nor laziness can redirect the progression of foolishness, etc. The one who deems
himself wiser is an idiot or lacking in judgement, etc. Indeed, he will be considered the wisest
of all, who recognizes his own different kinds stupidity, and who tries to dispel silly ghosts,
since he who knows much understands little>. He who knows much understands little, etc.,
etc.
291
[91] I already know that seconds in direct succession are not much good. On
the other hand, these two measures in A are, with respect to the previous two
measures in G, merely a repetition. On account of the bass, at least, it means
nothing. For if a minuet began in C, and the first half ended in the fifth, G, e.g.
Two octaves would follow each other, between the violin and the bass, by
means of the repetition (according to my lord), namely [from] the last G and
the [return to] the opening C. And if a minuet began with the fifth degree
and ended the first half with a fifth[-degree] □-comma, two successive fifths
would result, e.g.
Thus, repetition must necessarily be the reason why in the end a greater part
of the world would hear such two forbidden fifths and octaves rather than an
artful fugue. If that is so, then it can be the same with the second, although it
is a dissonance. This mature observation on the part of my lord could often
be of good use to me. Certainly better is better. One could certainly arrange a
minuet quite differently. And if I knew that, for example, the Urbsstädter did
not like the direct series of seconds, I would simply use the following type
of □–comma ✠ :
292
Or one could perhaps prepare the second degree, A, if needs be, with a
seventh-degree passing tone ✠, e.g.
Prec. The single little raised tone, marked ✠[in the previous example] should
give you to know, correctly, that one could go also in the following way from
the fifth to the sixth [degree], e.g.
Or by means of the accompaniment ✠, e.g.
[92] Or, e.g.
293
Or, more quickly into the sixth degree, if one pleases, e.g.
Disc. This last example here seems a bit too fast, or too artificial, to me. Be
that as it may, these several remarks will be worth a lot to me in all future
transitions.
Prec. Now I like it well that you can see into your lord so deeply. Thus, we
want to examine the sixth symphony a little bit.
Disc. I can do that at leisure at home, since my lord certainly has more than
two hundred symphonies. Nevertheless, give it to me. . . . Look! Look! This
master actually goes to the third degree. I will just transcribe it quickly, be-
ginning in the middle, e.g.
Prec. You already know he could have turned from the third degree, E, back
to the tonic, at will, by means of the fonte or ponte. I have shown this merely
294
in brief. Here, in the seventh symphony, he makes a comma on the third

degree, E, which belongs to the sixth degree, A, e.g. [93]
I have merely added the second violin at the piano. The composer, as you see,
gives these same notes to the violas and simply lets the second violins fill in.
Disc. I see that well. I only wonder about such a strange comma on the third
degree, E, because the theme immediately begins again in the tonic, as at the
beginning. I have as yet heard that in no symphony. Since this comma [seg-
ment] is extended only to the sixth degree, A, it allows no other miniature than
C—G—A—C
Such a comma [segment] could also have been formed in the following, or
in another way, e.g.
This idea ought also to find a place sometimes in a concerto when one lets
the tutti end with the [□–?] comma and the solo begin in the tonic, or perhaps
the other way around, etc. But I am surprised no less than with the previous
example from the sixth symphony, since the composer actually closed with a
cadence on the third degree, E, and used the sixth, A, merely as a transition.
Therefore, one must construct the tonal order in miniature as follows, e.g.
C—G—E—C
295
Prec. Quite naturally. But among 100 symphonies you will find scarcely one
with the third degree in this way. Also you will sooner hear 40 concertos and
violin solos with the sixth before you would hear one with the third degree.
For concerto-style structure is rather this, e.g.
C—G—A—C
Disc. I know it, because it is the most natural.
Prec. Fugue-style structure is, however, just as previously (in the sixth sym-
phony), namely thus:
C—G—E—C
Disc. Does Fux use this structure for the fugues in his Manuductio?
Prec. Certainly. He seems almost to prescribe it as a rule. Just look at page

126, first line; in Latin, however, on page 146, line 22. I will show both of
them in succession in miniature, e.g.
Disc. Is one not allowed at all to go to the sixth degree in a fugue?
Prec. Yes, indeed. Fux himself has an example in the Manuductio, in the
Latin on page 244, in the Kyrie from Missa vicissitudinis, in the German,
page 46, where he makes a cadence on the sixth degree and not on the third.
[94] I have also heard, seen, and even possess similar fugues with the sixth
degree, by famous masters. However, many use the third degree as well as
the sixth degree in order to prolong the fugue at will, e.g.
296
Or with the sixth degree first and the third degree afterward, e.g.
Disc. Just as good. Thus may I, if I wish, also use the second and fourth de-
grees, at least as transitions?
Prec. Not only as transitions, but you can even form cadences in both these two
keys. Only one ought not remain in them so long that the tonic is forgotten.
Disc. Better still. Now I would like to imagine that I want to prolong a fugue
quite a lot, so that I could present together in a miniature all the degrees be-
longing to the tonic, e.g.
Now the fifth degree, G, always stands as the first immediately after the tonic.
But can’t these four, namely A, E, F, and D, be mixed up in twenty-four dif-
ferent ways?
Prec. Without doubt. And in the middle of a fugue, the fifth degree can be
mixed in with the others at will, so that you have five, namely G, A, E, F, and
D, which can be mixed up in 120 different ways.
Disc. I actually knew that from the table of numbers. But further, since a
fugue can partake of the concerto-style structure, a concerto, etc., on the
other hand, can partake of fugue-style structure now and then. Moreover, I
suddenly remember now that I, myself, have already heard a horn concerto as
well as a trumpet concerto with the third degree instead of the sixth. The first
of these concludes its second solo in E, somewhat like this:
297
And the other, namely for the trumpet, thus:
In case I were to stretch an Allegro of a concerto exceedingly long, perhaps

even with four principal solo sections (since one of them usually has only
three), my first solo would begin in C and then modulate to G, whereupon the
first middle tutti, or middle forte, would come in. The second solo would start
in G, again, and then modulate to A, where the second middle tutti would come
in. The third solo would have to begin there, in A, and move to E, namely, to the
third middle tutti, after which I would begin the fourth or last solo in this key
of E and go from there to the tonic conclusion in C; or else the last solo could
immediately begin in C after the penultimate middle tutti. The fugal structure
for such a long elaboration would, perhaps, be just as good, e.g.
C—G—E—A—C
[95]
Prec. Yesterday I heard the Allegro of a new concerto, in which the first solo
began properly in C and moved to a cadence in G. Then the middle tutti be-
gan properly in G, but without a cadence, e.g.
Disc. Thus, the composer began the second solo not in the fifth degree but
likewise in the sixth. Amazing!
Prec. From there he returned and began the third solo in the tonic, C, with the
minor third, although he ended, as is proper, in the same key with the major
third. This structure did not seem bad to me for a change. But it seemed too
strange and unnatural to most listeners.
298
Disc. I, myself, would almost prefer the fugue style. In it one can, perhaps,
trick the ear by presenting the key of E as the third degree for a while and
afterward form, nevertheless, a cadence on the sixth degree, A. Or the other
way around?
Prec. By all means. And certainly in all Θ. As long as you don’t upend nature
by doing it.
Disc. Might I not also write a principal solo in the fourth degree at times?
Prec. Certainly that can often occur, especially if one is presented with a dif-
ficult key, e.g., E major, etc., whose sixth and third degrees go too far into the
crosses \ in the accompaniment.
Disc. And in that way one can choose and place rather more convenient notes
in the accompaniment. Because I would not gladly omit the sixth degree from
a concerto, etc. Thus, I will use the fourth degree as well as the second for the
most part only in passing, the third, however, necessarily yet very sparingly.
Prec. I have here a symphony in which the composer brings in the entire
theme in the fourth degree toward the end, so that at the conclusion the tonic
is mistaken for the fifth[-degree] of the fourth and the fourth itself for the
tonic. For that reason it sounds very offensive.
Disc. I agree with that, because the fourth degree is always softer (weicher)
than the tonic. How would it be, however, if one abruptly moved too force-
fully to the fourth?
Prec. In that case one would have to prepare for the tonic again and sharp it
by one degree. Imagine that I had already traveled around in the fourth de-
gree, of which I will meanwhile set down the last measures, and then I would
return to the tonic by means of a sharp, e.g.
For E ✠ is harder and sharper than C.
299
Disc. I feel it quite well. Since the F was too soft, the ear must be brought
back to its senses by means of the sharp key of E. And if one has gone some-
what too far into a sharp key, must one, therefore, go to a key one degree
softer than the tonic?
Prec. Without a doubt. This is also a good way to prepare, again, for the tonic
after one has, at one’s pleasure, modulated into foreign keys by means of
chromatic harmonies.
Disc. And that is what I prefer to do. Now I know how to handle the fourth
degree. However, ought I to use the second degree essentially never?
Prec. And why not? Fux has it even in the Missa vicissitudinis, namely at
measure 46, and in the Latin version at page 244. For the Kyrie is, itself, in
F, and he makes a cadence on G in the middle, which G is, counting from F,
the second degree.
Disc. Since one can, thus, use all the keys within the octave (with the single
exception of the seventh degree), it is all the easier to take apart or dissect the
<theme>. For I have heard many concertos in which one-, two-, three-, or four-
measure tuttis between the solos are constructed out of the <theme>, so that
one can scarcely detect a principal solo. We have a [96] concerto at home in
which a complete antithesis is not inserted into the <theme> but rather only in
the last measure of it during the solo. My lord has procured recently yet another
concerto in which only the beginning of the first measure of the <theme> is
always heard in unison in such a form. I will give you a sample of it, e.g.
Now, as mentioned, he presents the five notes of the beginning during the
solo instead with all four voices in unison, only where it is allowed with a
comma, or he may have set up one or another comma by this means with all
diligence, e.g.
And also at □-commas in D, A, G, and E, e.g.
300
Among others also with the minor third, e.g.
There are also redoubled ones in it, e.g.
In the last two examples, here, he has not used unison but has mixed in some
full-voiced texture. I have also heard the following three with inversion, e.g.
To be sure, I cannot claim that he has gone from key to key exactly as I have
done here, but perhaps in the way that the art of permutations lay on the tip
of his pen. Furthermore, although a concerto of this sort may not appear to be
quite learned, it seems to me that the repetitions of the internal tuttis or [97]
fortes are too many. One quarter as many would be more than enough for my
taste. To be sure, I will also see, in time, whether it is especially artful always
to interject one, two, or three-measure tuttis into the solo.
Prec. The concerto takes its name from concertare, which means “to con-
tend with one another,” also “to understand one another” or “to thrash out an
agreement with each other.” That suggests that the middle voices, likewise,
can make their marks in this.
301
Disc. In that respect, most Italians really have written no concertos, since
they give the middle voices almost nothing, or little, to do.
Prec. I once advanced that idea to an Italian. However, he came back at me

with the following words: “I know well that the Germans currently com-
pose in a more thorough fashion than we do. However, there is one thing
about this that I must remember: they put more composition into them,
while we Italians put in rather more instrument into them, that is, we let
the principal voice sound and predominate throughout without covering
or hindering it with such copious composition. Accordingly it is said, even
at many German courts, “This one or that one was heard in a solo,” rather
than “this one or that one was heard in a concerto.” The middle voices
must only help support the principal melody, and in this case we use the
word “composition.” Enough. In the end we still find connoisseurs in every
place. Certainly a pure solo, namely one without any accompaniment at
all, we no longer have these days at all, except for some capriccio, hand-,
or galanterie-piece. Because I was not capable at the time to maintain the
opposite, I have ever since then built on his opinion for the sake of [earn-
ing] bread. Over time, you can do as you please. Only you should take note
that among twelve Italians there is scarcely one who composes purely and
orderly in all respects.
Disc. That is certainly so in Urbsstadt. Whatever a certain counselor does

well, the other eleven spoil. Thus, one could, e.g., call a violin solo a con-
certo, since the bass concertizes with it or at least helps support it. But what
does it have for a tonal order?
Prec. A violin solo has the same tonal order as a concerto, namely, in general:
C—G—A—C
and you already understand this well from what has preceded.
Disc. In the preceding, I have a privately thought, if I meet a virtuoso who

is able to play, sing, or blow only a few notes, I will valiantly bolster with
composition everything that is weak and helpfully throw in long tuttis, which
will, perhaps, help both of us. This will not go over in a violin solo, etc., how-
ever, which one may begin with an Adagio, since an Allegro at the beginning,
without a ritornello, would perhaps sound too naked.
302
Prec. It is really not a rule that the Adagio should form the introduction. I
have already seen many in which the Adagio stands in the middle.
Disc. Thus, one can, at will, even use another key in the middle for this pur-
pose; I mean occasionally, for variety. In the meantime, I know well that a
solo must be aria-like and singing throughout.
Prec. Shadow and light are also very well suited to it, namely, if here and
there a boisterous passage [rauschender Gang]138 is inserted in order to stir
up the melody [um den Gesang zu erheben] or at least to make it a little more
pleasing. I will just quickly write out a brief sample, e.g.
138
Brillante, or in French brillant, means, therefore, among other things, lively, animated, etc.
303
[98] You see well that I have not expanded anything further.
Disc. I would have thought that boisterous notes would be indispensable so

close before the cadence, for they animate it uncommonly. In the meantime, I
have come to see that after the second boisterous passage, namely the one in
the key of the sixth degree, A, you have added four singing measures before
the cadence, and perhaps for that reason you have annotated them with 1, 2,
3, 4. But today you said that two similar commas are found only in the case
of a repetition, yet here at letter Q there is a □–comma on the sixth degree, A,
and the following boisterous passage has a □–comma in the same key at letter
P. Does it have to be that way?
Prec. I doesn’t have to be that way, but it can be that way only once in a while.
For that reason I have written in the letters Q and P next to them. These two
commas are so different from one another in that the first is inconclusive and
in the low register, while the one that comes after the boisterous measures is
in the upper register and is conclusive. Furthermore, the boisterous passage
is so completely set apart from the rest of the melody that it is practically
perceived as an expanded insertion. However, now I want to set apart this
insertion, as well e.g.
Disc. And also two tonic commas in succession? To be sure, the first is con-
clusive by nature, and the second is, on the contrary, inconclusive. And if
they were placed even further apart, they would be even more tolerable, in
my experience, because the ears would have forgotten the first one. But after
the cadence on A, couldn’t one have made a transition by means of the fonte?
304
Or finally couldn’t the theme at least be varied a bit, e.g. [99]
Prec. Without any doubt. In many thousand ways.
Disc. This solo of yours has only two parts because of the double bars :║: ,
and yet you make three parts out of it?
Prec. That is done only for the sake of greater clarity. Look, the first part begins
in C, but it has most of its passages and notes in the key of G. The second part
begins in G, but it has most of its passages in the key of A [minor]. The last
part may begin as it will, although it has most of its passages again in the tonic,
C. Now if a solo is carried out with regularity and expansion, the first part can
actually have two boisterous passages, just as the second part can have two
boisterous passages, just as the last part can have two boisterous passages or
migrating passages (Schwärmer). Or in the first and second parts overall there
could be only one but with two in the last part. Or even none in the first part
and none in the second part, but with one or two in the last part, as one wishes.
In short, in all Θ. Only, it is good if the most strongly boisterous passage be re-
served for the last part in order to close the whole Allegro, etc., as impressively
as possible. Likewise, an orator or perhaps a preacher saves the strongest argu-
ments for last. Only the Italian listeners, according to what I am told, must be
drawn in by having the most impressive passages right away at the beginning.
I truly don’t know whether their natures have made them so.139 Nevertheless,
when one or two strongly boisterous passages are found in the second part, it is
not entirely necessary that they be as strongly stated in the last part, but rather
it can be done as one wishes. The boisterous passages in the first and last parts
ought not to be too similar to each other, as they are to be seen in my model,
but rather completely different migrating notes can be used in the last part, even
more strongly than I have shown you before, if desired. The Italians do not pay
much attention to that. One sees many violin solos by them in which there are
neither strong nor weak boisterous passages anywhere.
139
Whoever does not see that I am only boasting for the sake of the discantist certainly would
imagine that I understand things rightly. I split my sides laughing.
305
Disc. Certainly, it is by means of boisterous passages that each part obtains

a body or a belly. But you yourself often say that one should imitate an aria
melody with instruments.
Prec. An aria generally also has its boisterous passages.
Disc. Which mostly consist of running passages, however. For double claws
[sixteenth notes] are perhaps not performed [well] by a singer.
Prec. If he [the singer] can produce or sing them, he would certainly not leave
them out. Why shouldn’t one sometimes display the powers of an instru-
ment? Nevertheless, one should not use only sixteenth notes all the time. In
fact, an aria-like boisterous passage can sometimes serve just as well.
Disc. Thus I will make many Θ , now this way, now that way, and rarely
will I put no boisterous passages in them. Cadences are stirred up greatly by
means of them. By the way, I see an error in your model. In the first part, you
have written a transition, which, perhaps of necessity, can also introduce an
antithesis. On the contrary, in the second or, most importantly, the last part,
you have not presented it again, namely this:
Prec. It does not have to be that way. There is, nevertheless, enough unity in
it. I would almost have said that a melody can now and then be just as flow-
ing when everything is not so precisely circumscribed. Here I will also tell
you briefly that we have another light and shadow (other than the boisterous
passage). This, however, is not made by the composer but by the violinist,
himself, while he plays, e.g.
Here I mean mezzo forte, halb-stark in German, when I write “dolce.” Now,
a violinist might play similar notes (I mean not just these) in all Θ, without
the forte, piano, or half-piano written in. [100] Some violinists, on the other
306
hand, especially in Italy, apply equal strength with the bow throughout. Here,
too, it comes down to preference.
Disc. Good. I will observe, over time, which style has more supporters.
However, you could have also expanded the boisterous passage in the sec-
ond part, e.g.
Or you could have prolonged the cadence + after the boisterous passage, e.g.
Prec. Certainly. Haven’t I chatted enough with you today concerning the
various prolongations?
Disc. If, however, a boisterous passage in the second part simply acquitted
itself better in the key of the third degree, E, might I then not eliminate the
sixth degree, A?
Prec. Yes, indeed. Your needless doubt could almost make one irritated.
Disc. Thus, with your permission, I will slightly prolong the boisterous pas-
sage of the last part, e.g.
307
Disc. When our Hansmichel, for example, composes a concerto or a solo in C

major and falls into the key of G, he holds so tightly to it that nothing can free
him from it but the following cadence. I will give you a sample:
And he does the same thing in all the rest of the intermediate keys and tonali-
ties: but often only expanded even farther. Now Philip calls the notes from
the sign ✠ onward a lyre passage (Leyer).
Prec. Philip is right. Hansmichel perhaps does not know that in the middle
one can use all the keys that belong to the tonic, be it [the middle section] of
the [101] short or expanded type, even though the tonic, itself, must suffer for
it most often. For example:
However, I want to present the key of A more clearly for you at the sign ✠, e.g.
Now you should see F:
308
Now you should see E and D.
The foreman can once again be helped when he begins to work, in fact, the
steward, himself, is the least at liberty, e.g.
[102] Or:
309
Disc. But up to this point do all of them rather help the chief maid, A?
Prec. That may be. As long as you know that all of them can help each other
throughout, either briefly or extensively, as one wishes. For that reason, there
would be nothing at all to complain about in Hansmichel’s lyre passage140 if
he had introduced and arranged it better. You mustn’t let yourself be discour-
aged by such censorious people.
Disc. Ought I therefore to use no keys other than the three with the major
third, C, G, and F, and the three with the minor third, A, E, and D, except
that I may allow the first three to be heard at times for a little while with the
minor third? I can certainly satisfy myself forever composing with just one
sixth degree.
Prec. One can easily deceive the ear for a while, as you have seen in the
symphonies. But it is actually dangerous. You are still too weak to do it. Nev-
ertheless, I will give you a small sample of it, e.g.
Here, at the sign ✠ , the D comes with the major third, which does not belong
to the key of C, for, rather, the key of D with minor third should have been
established by means of a [ in front of the B, e.g.
Nevertheless, the first example is, in my view, just as good as the last one,
for the reason that the D major does not last long, and it leans rather more
toward the succeeding □–comma in [the key of] the fifth. Were I, however, to
formulate a melody, e.g.
140
It behaves generally, for that reason, like a distress-note passage, about which I included a
remark in the first chapter, on page 39, all the way down [in a footnote].
310
[103]
Disc. I beg you to stop! The comma at the sign ✠ is already too superfluous
and offensive, let alone if there were a cadence or comma in D major follow-
ing it. In the face of such a horrible tonal order, all the sables must run out of
Siberia. It would be different if in the second part in G, the tonic itself were
[brought in]. Furthermore, I would rather write it something like this
Or I could have made it a little longer than the first part; in a word, in all Θ.
Prec. Good. Now at last we are at home with tonal order.
Disc. It seems to me, however, that I have also once sung or heard a fonte
that is contrary to every tonal order, or at least contrary to the ears of all dis-
cantists, e.g.
311
Prec. That is a perverse hermaphrodite,141 for the [ on the note A in the sec-
ond-to-last measure points to a comma in C minor, and yet, contrary to ex-
pectations, there follows a comma in C major. The person who wrote this
for the first time may perhaps have thought that he had to use the diminished
seventh in the second member ✠✠ of the fonte, just as he did in the first ✠
member. However, the second member with the [ in front of the note A rather
longs for a ■–comma in C minor, e.g.
This member ✠✠, however, is not desired here.
Disc. Unless, one wanted to make a brief excursion into C minor with all
diligence and then immediately return to C major from there.
Prec. Were the hermaphrodite, however, drawn out longer and introduced
better, the ears could still be deceived in a graceful way. This rather pleases
a hundred connoisseurs, but it has, as yet, seldom pleased me. From this I
conclude, once again, that I have a deficiency of nature and was not born with
a proper sense of harmony.
Disc. Recently I encountered the word “hermaphrodite” in our dictionary,

and I asked my lord about it. He said, “There are a number of such species
among the trees and herbs; the lilies, on the contrary, are of another nature,
etc.” “Between us,” he said finally, laughing, [104] “a hermaphrodite is a
person who carries on both shoulders.” Still, I cannot tolerate such an un-
harmonic rogue. Accordingly I will stick with my natural and clear fonte
(without [), e.g.
141
Hermaphred.
312
Prec. In time you will learn more than you will from me.
Disc. And that which we have said up to now with respect to shadow and light,
etc., in the violin solo, ought one also to observe in concertos and the rest?
Prec. Do not doubt it! The one is suited to the other.
Disc. My lord is fond of saying, “An Exomnibusaliquidista usually becomes

an Extotonihilista.” I should learn one single thing properly and let the rest
go on their way. The harpsichord is the best instrument for composition
because by means of complete harmony one can always find on it enough
strange ideas and themes, as we know to some extent from experience. I,
however, also know from experience that one thing can help the other. For
as soon as Philip began to give me violin lessons I immediately became a
stronger singer. Singing, as the principal foundation, has certainly already
helped me very much with violin and harpsichord playing. My lord, how-
ever, does not realize that he does not understand the nature of the violin,
although he makes himself out to be a fine composer. Because I am mainly
thinking of earning my bread through composition, I will apply diligence to
become still better acquainted with the above-said instrument.
Prec. You will do well with that. To that end I will give you the incompa-
rable six violin solos that you see lying here.
Disc. Heavens! We also have two concertos at home by this famous master,
for the very name of Sig. Franc. Benda is on this. He is, as Philip says, the
Royal Prussian Chamber Violinist.
Prec. When you are done with them, I will look for some others for you.
Disc. Philip must help me that I may thoroughly explore and fully grasp
them.
Prec. The natural and the pathetic are as artfully projected throughout as one
could wish.
Disc. My lord, however, calls only church chant pathetic.
313
Prec. In German, Pathetisch142 means “moving,” “touching,” even “stirring,”

namely stirring other people, but not only sorrowfully, as some of your and
my countrymen have claimed. For in church, a piece of polyphonic music143
can have a very slow tempo and downright tragic keys and still not be really
pathetic. On the other hand, a church piece can have a brisk tempo and lively
key, as long as the text calls for it.144 A concerto, etc., can be composed in an
orderly and artistic fashion, filled out, and at the same time consistently laid
out. That alone is not sufficient. Many who compose that way continue to
believe that they are done an injustice when they receive no applause out in
the world. There are, on the other hand, many very common songs that are
called immortal by many people, whether or not the composer of these was
the equal of a theorist or a discantist.
Disc. I understand. What comes from the heart goes to the heart. One
must above all try to make an impression on the listener, as a preacher does.
And the so-called affect, itself, can perhaps sometimes be different from the
pathetic, according to the aspect of the thing.
Prec. In short, that is the true theory of music,145 which has been sought
by all true connoisseurs and experts in all ages, and will be sought until
the end of the world. Some are born to it, but they become stronger the
more they compose and tirelessly apply diligence to it. It is often said that
the French have much more of the pathetic style in their melodies than the
Italians. I gladly confess it.
Disc. As I understand it, a pathetic expression can also often be put into many
minuets, yes, even into a Presto, etc. But my lord expresses the word ascen-
dit with rising notes and descendit with falling notes. Is that pathetic?
Prec. He can perhaps make it pathetic at the same time. Only it is not so just
on account of the fact that ascendit means “rising” and descendit means “fall-
ing.” For such an expression of the words is, contrary to pathetic expression
of the words, merely a shallow artifice.
Disc. Thus, the following, which I copied out from a printed book last year,
must hopefully be at least a little pathetic, e.g. [105]
142
Patheticè.
143
The slow chorale melody is pathetic because of its strong setting in unison.
144
These days, however, there are very few composers who feel called upon to think of this.
Concerning this, one hears sighs and laments daily [from] real connoisseurs.
145
Which I practice as long as I live, and still, up to this point, I cannot achieve it.
314
Translation:
The courtier, when he rises, raises his voice.
But as soon as he falls, tone and sound fall with him.
Prec. Here, because of the text, there may be a little something of [the pa-
thetic], but [were it performed] with only instruments it would be difficult [to
think of it as pathetic]. We will speak more about this later.
Disc. When I think of composing a concerto or a violin solo, etc., I can cer-
tainly conceive of it as if I had the text of an aria in front of me. For all time, I
have never done otherwise. The melody becomes so much clearer, more lus-
cious, and expressive, as in the music of my lord. Surely he understands the
rules better than I. And certainly he has always had a few operas lying around
him, from which he takes ideas, now from this one, now from the other.
Prec. Such theft betokens no great rule. On the other hand, your way of com-
posing is just right for the pathetic.
Disc. I simply do not know rightly whether I should make the tutti of a con-
certo long or short.
Prec. The theme or opening tutti may well be made several measures longer
so that some of its antitheses may be incorporated into the solo every now
and then. Some want to force the following solo to be longer than the stated
theme. I, however, find no good reason why one should always observe that
so strictly. For it does not depend entirely on the first solo. The middle tuttis
certainly should not be made as long. In every way, the solo should be heard
and not the tutti. So the last tutti often consists of only two or three measures,
as if it were crying out to the solo, “Vivat! Bravo! Beautiful! etc.”
Disc. But what if, for example, the solo sounded bad?
315
Prec. Then the tutti would cry, “Phooey! Nasty! Loathsome! etc.”
Disc. One often hears long and disgusting middle tuttis. Only for wind instru-
ments may one make the middle tuttis longer by a couple of measures, so that
they may catch their breath meanwhile.
Prec. There, again, you are quite correct. Meanwhile I would rather hear
someone say, “It is a shame that this concerto, etc., is too short,” than to hear
it said, “It is a shame that this concerto is too long.”
Disc. I know well that you wish to consider brevity as a significant sign of
skill. That, however, does nothing for me.
Prec. I usually begin the first middle tutti with the same theme as the [first]
tutti, except that it is abbreviated. However, I rarely begin the second middle
tutti, the one that is in the key of the sixth or third degree in that way [with
the theme], but rather I make use of the antithesis at its beginning, or else the
solo, itself, must lend me a few measures, that is, measures that have already
been heard in the solo. And I do that in order that the beginning of the theme
not be heard so often. In the final tutti I do the same thing, although I usually
take care to form only a suitable antithesis in order finally to make a brief
return at the end.
Disc. My lord says that one must begin the solo quite differently from the
[first tutti] theme.
Prec. Your lord, therefore, does not even know what “theme” means. Why
does he not just say that every tutti must begin in its own way, while also
every solo must begin differently. In that way, one could turn a single one of
his concertos into an entire dozen. Why should we not be permitted to imitate
opera arias, in which the clauses and ideas are heard so often in repetition that
they remain better fixed in the memory of the listener? Another way is to let
the solo begin with an antithesis, in any desired variation, e.g.
316
[106] Now the solo begins like the [tutti] theme, e.g.
Or, if you prefer, it can begin this way, now and then:
Or perhaps even a bit varied:
Or it might perhaps be better this way:
Or this way:
or:
317
or:
or:
or perhaps even on the third degree:
[107] Since all these measures and brief antitheses are, as you see, derived
from the theme and have already been heard, it follows that it is because of
the unifying cohesion that not much doubt arises in the end. The antitheses,
however, are usually scattered much more throughout the entire concerto and
incorporated into the solo. And this seems to be the only way to make a
concerto aria-like, because it can already easily become sufficiently novel
by means of repetition, expansion, and various pitch alterations. I know well
that often the solo begins quite differently from the theme. On the other hand,
the middle voices are often given some familiar notes or measures from the
theme during the solo. This is something one certainly sees also in one or
another aria. I will just give you a little sample of it, e.g.
318
You see here the four or five opening notes of the theme used in the accom-
panying bass✠, and that the viola or second violin could also be filled out
similarly if they were written for them instead of for the bass, which has its
assigned duties, anyway. However, notes or measures from the [tutti] theme
should be placed not right at the beginning but further on in the solo. In
fact, I once heard a concerto in which the solo had its own flattering melody
throughout, without borrowing the least thing from the [tutti] theme. Howev-
er, the [tutti] theme merely made an appearance first here and then there with
its antitheses during the solo, just as if they always wanted to meet in a hostile
fashion. Likewise, there are fugues in which the theme is heard throughout
with a major third, while the countersubject, on the contrary, is heard with the
minor third. But these are only selected rarities.
Disc. In the meantime I have noticed that the second middle tutti, for example
in the key of the sixth degree, does not always have a cadence and also does
not have to remain always only in the sixth degree, because the solo that
follows it can begin, if desired, in the tonic again, that is, in all Θ. However,
since, in particular, each middle solo can have for its use five middle keys, it
would be difficult, nevertheless, to put the keys of E and F one after the other.
Prec. However sometimes real out-and-out delicacies can be turned out by

that means.
Disc. I will, however, try just a little bit of it, e.g.
The F sounds so impulsive after the E, as if it were chromatic. But now the
F first:
319
[108] This example falls a little more gently on my ears than the previous
one. I really hope to figure out over time which one it has to be. Two minor
keys, such as E and D, go together far better, e.g.
Or the reverse:
Actually, I could have also gone to A here, e.g.
However, that is not the question. But rather, I want to ask you about some-
thing quite important. However, we will first rest for a little while and talk of
something else. Look, as soon as I neatly wrote down and organized all our
explanations and discussions about metric order from the past Monday and
Tuesday, as you wished me to do, the Urbsstädter came across it and paged
through the whole chapter, unfortunately! Mr. Ipleer from Opolisburg, who
often comes with him to the coffee house, has now also turned against you.
Prec. I know the latter already through his books and so-called dissertations,
which he has published. And what more?
Disc. The day before yesterday it really came down on you, that is, he said
that you think you can soar like a lark in your disordered and superfluous
explanations, but you are poised to fall, at every moment, like a quail in a
320
puddle. They say that you want to show that you have an understanding of
many things, which, however, is false; for you have only picked up some-
thing here and there superficially by the hair, to make a lot of wind with.
Prec. Then is it not enough that I expose my weakness forthrightly to the light
of day? I must have also a little conversation for my trouble.
Disc. To be sure, what pleased me did not please these two gentlemen; and
what pleased them did not please me. You should not be angry on my ac-
count. They, however, spoke against you with strong words such as our
neighbor Hanserl is not nearly in a position to use against me, no matter how
ill-bred he is. The word “brainless” was the most polite among them, so that
Philip could not listen any longer but rose up against them: “You want to be
scholars, but you may still be both far more sensitive and rougher than many
scholars! Mr. Ipleer, you have written good books. One of us must contrive
something novel on the violin and overreach the mark in doing it, etc.” To-
morrow I will tell you how the Urbsstädter ground up your situation in life,
for everything is known to him.
Prec. The good hay rakers (for scolding is no art) should rather write some
chapters on metric and tonal order, etc. Then you could compare his opinion
with mine.
Disc. Don’t think badly of me. I decided, anyway, for the time being, to
consider as false yours as well as all other writers’ explanations. What will,
consequently, be good will remain good.
Prec. In all natural things, this is an excellent way to judge something.146

[109] In fact, I read that good advice again just yesterday in a French book.147
If only you will not get hold of the bad by chance instead of the good, which
unfortunately! among us mortal creatures commonly happens. The good
Ipleer, however, is merely a straw raker. He understands absolutely nothing
about music, and he wants to help the Urbsstädter, who, on the whole, does
not need any help.
Disc. At home, I have to read a German grammar together with one in

Latin. You know well that I could not otherwise compel myself to speak
146
For that reason, I explain even everything problematic to the discantist.
147
By Mr. Descartes.
321
with you this way. It gives the ancient and affected High German words,
such as affi or auffi, which is derived from auffein, instead of hinauf; nach-
her instead of hernach; anhi from einhin instead of hinein; abi from abhin
instead of hinab; aubi or aussi from aushin instead of hinaus; um from umhin
instead of hinum, etc. But why do you call the Urbsstädter and Ipleer Stroh-
umi and Heu-umi?
Prec. Be quiet! I am already very sorry about it.148 Besides, this story has
merely been translated from a foreign language into ours. For once upon a
time, I do not know when or where, the militia had to practice and could not
understand “left face” and “right face,” so that the sergeant ordered them to
bind a little bundle of hay on their right arm and a little bundle of straw for
their left arm. Then he cried, “Hayside! Strawside!”
Disc. That was certainly a good stratagem on the part of the sergeant. But to
go back again: because one can use the tonic in the middle, e.g., of a concerto
even as a middle key, every middle solo can be rearranged 120 different
ways, as was explained a few minutes ago on page 94.
Prec. There is truth in that. We will make a test of that in miniature. But since
we have written everything in the key of C, we will see whether you know
also what to do in other keys.
Disc. I may only tally it up. Or I will in order to make it evident to you, write
something in all the usual keys in miniature. I will go no further than the fifth,
however, e.g.
Stop! I think that 3/4 time is easier to write:
It is true, <nature dictates>: my strict upbringing did not entirely enabled me to respond to
148
such scathing speeches, although I believe that I considerably reduced this hateful deficiency
years ago. In this respect, I wish to nourish myself as little from it as from contemporary writing.
322
Or, arranged more briefly, I manage with a single line of notes, e.g.
Prec. Good. Now do it just as Mr. Ipleer does in his dissertation.
Disc. But why? I have nothing to do in that case but transpose this example,
namely thus:
[110] Prec. I would also like to see the sixth degree in this.
323
Disc. Right away. I just want to fashion one more, diligently, with an ex-
panded miniature, e.g.
Now tell me quickly whether such a miniature would not otherwise be of any
further use.
Prec. Why not? Just write the word “solo” and “Adagio” above it. A violinist
will readily decorate it with ornaments. In fact, it will be a thousand times
preferred to a solo cobbled together by a composer who does not understand
anything about the violin.
Disc. I, however, have become more clever. Our Philip has, among other
things, very graceful Adagios. One of them that he has is by an old Italian
master in which all the middle keys, beyond the tonic, are substantially in-
troduced, e.g.
[111] I could scarcely imagine that there were so many middle keys. For-
merly such an Adagio may well have seemed pathetic. But now it sounds
a bit too old fashioned. Our Philip certainly tries to make it new with his
ornaments during performance. Now, however, the sixth degree with brief
miniatures, e.g.
324
Now alternatively in fugal style with the third degree, e.g.
325
Example 700, cont.
[112]
Prec. Good. In this way one could continue even with the 120 permutations
if one wanted actually to bring in all five middle keys. I will give you, in the
mean time, just a sample with an organ bass in the key of C, e.g.
For a feminine example, however, I will take the key of A minor, e.g.
Disc. I do not even want to examine these two miniature models closely. It
is just as if I were not capable of recognizing modulation without the organ
bass. Please continue with the violin clef.
Prec. And do you want me to write out all 124 permutations? What would the
Urbsstädter say afterward?
Disc. He can remain who he is; I wish to know well and clearly whether it has
its correctness in this way. I ask for nothing more than a miniature. You also
write ten times faster than I do.
Prec. You have too good an opinion of me. But because you still do not quite
know the advantage of it, I will let that stand. If I kept, e.g., C as the tonic,
unchanging, then the five, namely G, A, E, D, and F, could be rearranged 120
times. Then I divide and say, “5 into 120 are 24.” That demonstrates that each
326
of the five middle keys can begin the series 24 times. Just look at the ordering
(but without the tonic, C) in letter miniatures, e.g.
[113]
Disc. You do not have to tell me. For in addition to the 24 initial keys shown
above, there are four more to rearrange, which, amongst themselves, can be
rearranged another 24 times anyway, as can be seen in the number table. Now
I say, “4 into 24 yields 6.” Thus, each of the four keys can begin the series six
times. For that reason you have made nothing but rows of six. Then there still
remain 3, which can be rearranged six times themselves. Were I to say then,
“3 into 6,” I would know that each of these three keys can be placed at the
beginning of the series twice, etc. as you see. You left out the tonic, C. But I
would like to see it proceed as the leader and, in fact, with a note miniature.
Prec. In fact, a cruel desire. That is the most exhausting.149 You look to me
like that man who sighed so sorrowfully as his wife lay on her death bed. She
asked him whether he really loved her. Whereupon he gave her this lament-
ing and bitter answer: “Oh yes, my dear wife, I have seen you young, I have
seen you beautiful, healthy, strong, cheerful, thereafter, in your approaching
age, now, sadly, also long enough have I seen you weak and sick. But I would
also like to see you dead someday.”
Disc. God keep me from such a wicked thought!
I do not usually even like this. But if I do not have everything in detail before my eyes, I can-
149
not understand anything. And it is as if people, just from listening to legends, [try to understand]
such things are written here.
327
Prec. Now take note, I will follow the letter miniature exactly, only that I now
also begin and end with the tonic, e.g.
328
329
Example 704, cont.
330
Example 704, cont.
331
Example 704, cont.
332
333
Example 704, cont.
334
335
Example 704, cont.
[121] Disc. Since a single modulation of a single middle solo can be rear-
ranged in so many ways, I would gladly believe that a single concerto can
also be varied in many thousand ways. For what have we not already de-
scribed today as regards the variation of measures and notes?
Prec. Rearrangement does not, however, only pertain to concertos but to all
other types of work; and not only to the key of C but to all keys.
Disc. Yes, I know that very well. If my lord does not yet know about this
art of permutation he will certainly say again: “Consider, man, how music
advances!” For two weeks this word has been in his mouth almost daily.
For fourteen days ago an officer rode through and ate in Urbsstadt at noon
in the post house. After eating, he quickly took out his transverse flute for a
bit and played such a gracefully ornamented tune on it that the choir direc-
tor in Vallethal himself was not able to imitate it on the organ. The latter,
the Urbsstädter, and my lord were together on this occasion. They finally
introduced themselves to this gentleman as music connoisseurs, when he was
ready to move on. He said, among other things, that he plays this instrument
only for his entertainment. He was (as it seems to me) from Petersburg in
Sweden. He hopes that the Lycea musica will, in time, warm and cheer the
Icelanders more and more, after which they would be dispersed from the
East more and more, and eventually quite widely, etc. They praised his art,
with the open-hearted declaration that they had not yet heard the like and
that music could probably never climb higher. Alas, he answered to this, “In
336
my journey through Berlin, I heard something beyond this; there I did not
dare to show my flute once. Music certainly progresses,” he continued, “be-
cause the great monarchs themselves are bringing it to its highest peak.” [The
Urbsstädter and his lord] replied that they had already heard this many times,
but they did not know whether the rest of the music from there would be as
excellent. It seemed, however, he did not deign to answer this, but rather he
wrote the following verse on the table, and said «goodbye»:
<Following the king’s example, know the whole chorus [i.e., all musical
personnel]>.
My lord has not yet explained that verse to me. However, Lycea musica
means musical high school.
Prec. However, Petersburg is in Russia, not in Sweden.
Disc. I know that. Now I rather think to myself, “If only the officer could im-
part his knowledge of music amongst us. At court, in any case, he would get
to hear beautiful music everywhere. Whoever is rich has good art to study.
It is not always so, as my lord says. For I am sometimes so hungry that my
ribs hurt, and he notices it and therefore calls me before him and babbles on
about how necessity teaches better than all the best teachers in the world.”
You may now laugh at me for that. Previously it was often a little difficult
likewise for you. But I thought we wanted to call it a day. Why are you bring-
ing light here?
Prec. So that we can see the minor keys better.
Disc. Are these so different from the masculine keys, then?
Prec. Of course. A feminine key derives its essence from a masculine one and
really has no scale of its own.
Disc. Doesn’t the A-minor scale, for example, go like this: [122]
Prec. I say no. One must borrow the C-major scale for it, e.g.
337
Now these six pitches can be used [as chordal roots? as middle keys? con-
cluding chords of commas?] essentially in the key of A minor and no others.
Disc. Thus must I once again pass over as merely non-essential the B natural,
which is the seventh degree in the masculine key of C and here is the second
degree of A.
Prec. Yes, indeed. One can only use it from time to time for a □–comma in E.
Disc. I know that, namely:
However, I will also undertake a small but important trial with it, e.g.
You are right; it sounds horrible. I did not want to believe you. Those are now
two feminine keys that stand one after the other, or only a step apart. In this
connection I will now ask you an irrational calculation question. Today we
have worked with the tonic C all day and we have often placed E minor and
D minor after one another.
Prec. Yes, and so?
Disc. Now if I make D minor (like A in relation to B natural) the tonic, can’t
the key of E minor be used with it?
Prec. No.
Disc. And why not?
338
Prec. In fact, I know of no other reason than that D minor is the tonic and
therefore borrows its scale from the key of F major.
Disc. I probably understand that a little bit. The ear is always oriented only
to the established tonic. Thus, the ears have a more harmonic sense than
we do. For that reason, my lord often says, <It does not please the hearing;
it does not go to the ear; a sophisticated ear cannot tolerate such horrible
thickness, etc.>” Although he sometimes says, contrary to will and wisdom
or perhaps out of hate and envy, that the ancients sought to capture the soul,
whereas today’s composers try only to charm the ear. I, however, think that if
a present-day minuet causes people to dance or a Nachtmusik can put them
to sleep, then. . . .
Prec. You should rather say, if pathetic church music can stir people to piety,
then. . . .
Disc. Then the soul must not be too far removed from it. The famous natural
scientist in Opolisburg says that the sense of hearing is a small body lying
upside down. I believe it. For if I hear a very silly or a much-too-artful piece
of music, I feel a quick twitch, shiver, and shudder one or two fingers’ length
under the pit of my stomach. Even the sense of hearing inevitably must shake
its head at it. Therefore, the ears may well be not a major part of the body.
Prec. Tell me, rather, how do you make, e.g., an Andante in A minor?
Disc. I would take A, E, and A. Or with notes in miniature, e.g.
Prec. Now I finally realize that you have as yet heard and understood but
little. That is the fugal structure, and the third is commonly included in that,
e.g., A, E, C, A. Or in notes: [123]
On the other hand, concertos, violin sonatas, symphonies, Andantes, etc., use
the third instead of the fifth, e.g.
339
I have formed the second part with the ponte. You know well that it can also
be done with the fonte and with the monte, e.g.
Disc. However, these three, the ponte, fonte, and monte, are rather borrowed
from the key of C. This raises no doubts in me, but a concerto. . . .
Prec. A concerto goes first to the third, then to the fifth, e.g.
Disc. If, however, I want to make even four principal solos in it?
Prec. Then D would be the most appropriate as the third middle key, e.g.
Because G is the seventh as either too close to the main tone, or too far away.
The sixth, F, on the other hand, would be more suitable, for that reason, but
it is too soft for it.
340
Disc. And it seems to me that the fourth, D, is just as soft. After it, one could
reintroduce a sharp ✠ , for the masculine key of F would be much preferable
to me, e.g.
Prec. The fourth, D, must certainly be introduced by means of a sharp. And

as long as a soft middle key lasts, the sharp must be kept even a little longer
than usual. It is true that sharps and, on the contrary, softening [flats], can be
of good service to the hearing, after which one finds oneself truly back in the
tonic key. Nevertheless, they ought not always be introduced so abruptly, but
rather little by little.
Disc. I just want to try out the seventh degree, G, a little, e.g. [124]
That is right. The seventh is in no way to be scorned in a feminine key. In-

deed, I would not have believed it. However, I do not think of using it many
thousands of times or as often as the rest of them.
Prec. Take note 1) that I am no admirer of four long, extended principal solos;
2) that one can furthermore use the middle keys quite well; 3) that even the
violin solo, symphony, etc., can have the same tonal order as a concerto.
Disc. I have known that for a long time. Because, additionally, there are no
differences between the execution and prolonging of feminine and masculine
keys, I myself will try see whether I can correctly work out the 120 permuta-
341
tions. But one small question: May I rely on the fact that one always goes first
to the third (except in fugues)?
Prec. Certainly. As otherwise stated, the people in certain countries or king-

doms have been bound, for the most part, to the fugal structure. Only four-
teen days ago I heard such an Adagio played in G minor, e.g.
The violinist gave the small appoggiatura notes strong expression with his bow,
but he let go of them after the attack and played all the rest of the notes quite
delicat and, NB, also played the cadence trills on open strings without turns.
Disc. Why don’t you speak German? What does delicat mean?
Prec. Delicate, the same as dolce or also à mezza voce, half strong, etc. At
present, as they say, the same countries now go to the third, although they
cannot completely forget the fifth.
Disc. As far as I am concerned, that may well be a pathetic flavor. But here
in this country, I would consider him to be a regular womanizer who prefers
such a weak melody. For the tonic itself is feminine, and the succeeding ca-
dence in the fifth is likewise feminine. It may be otherwise with fugues and
when, in the middle, two such feminine keys come to stand next to each other
as commas. In short, I will always go directly to the third, e.g.
[125] With your Lentement or Adagio, you have unfortunately! reminded

me of the last war. For, toward us in Monsberg around noon, there came a
regiment of soldiers who sang nearly all their songs in a minor key and never
342
added in anything but trills. As soon as they were gone, there came, as you
know, their coarse enemy with their long butcher’s knives at their sides, and
they sang their songs plainly and without a single trill, and generally only af-
ter they had eaten as the guest of the innkeeper. They had quite extraordinary
yet manly melodies, for they had stronger chests than any others.
Prec. You may, perhaps, prattle along without any understanding.150 Show
me, rather, the rest of the usual minor keys in miniature.
Disc. Sure. I will therefore begin in A [minor], e.g.
Now for a concerto, etc.
It is true that the French still do not at all desist from writing and speaking contemptuously
150
of the Germans. But that is of no concern to the lad. For the most reasonable of them still do
not know how to hold their tongue.
343
[126] Now I will execute something with the fugal structure. Only, before I
close in the fifth, I will remain with the masculine third long enough.
Prec. One also hears quite often old things mixed in, and often quite nicely
carried out. Today a composer must know how to work in everything.
Disc. Furthermore, I want to briefly examine the 120 permutations with the
minor third; these will impress a further understanding upon me. I use the key
of A minor, e.g.
344
The Urbsstädter gathered most of his principal rules in just a few written
definitions, so that perhaps no beginner but only a few scholars (namely those
who have learned or perhaps already know more than he) can understand.
However, I will illustrate also these permutations with notes, e.g.
345
[127] Prec. Stop, and generate the remaining 114 permutations at your leisure
at home. One must not disturb clear water without a reason. The Urbsstädter
was right when he stopped us. You certainly have a sufficient grasp on the art
of permutation already.
Disc. Yes, it seems to me as if I had known, already for years, everything that
we have dealt with today. My lord also has a folio volume, etc., in which some-
thing of tonal order is mentioned. This, the Musurgia by Father Kircher, and
with the treatise by Father Spiess he locks up both together in a special chest.
Prec. He is completely right. For the Honorable Father Spiess wrote of coun-
terpoint without having an adequate understanding of it. When we deal with
counterpoint, I will lay all his erroneous examples before your eyes as a warn-
ing. He presents himself as an advocate for the old keys [modes], but he is
not, as we shall then see.
Disc. But he also writes about the theatrical style, and my lord holds him in as
high esteem as he does the folio volume and the Musurgia, etc.
Prec. That is his duty. One must, of course, be grateful to them for giving so
much honor to music and for troubling themselves over it, as was their doing.
Disc. He [Spiess] also includes the word rhythmopoeïa therein.
Prec. I know it.151 However, he did not know that musical rhyme structures
[recta “musical poetic-meter schemes”] (rhythmopoeïa) consist of several
measures, caesura [segments], and comma [segments]. He wants to apply the
scansion feet of Latin poetry. However, how could a poet force scansion feet
upon the following notes?
And in music don’t we have a thousand times more variations? Furthermore,

the poets have only 120 names for five-syllable words, corresponding to the
long and short feet or syllables of each newly imagined word. Father Spiess sets
out 27 of them, and I do not know what sort of rule he lays down, for he himself
cannot know that. I will write down only four of them. The first word consists
151
For that very reason I was recently given a strong reprimand, because I have used this word
in the [chapter on] metric order.
346
of two long (syllables). The next consists of two shorts. The third consists of
a short and a long. The fourth, on the other hand, has the first long and the last
short. Now look what they are called and how he expresses them with notes:
He explains, additionally, that the first is used in serious and elevated pieces, the
second in rapid and warlike pieces, the third in moderately jolly, and the fourth,
namely the trochaeus, is suited to satirical, quite innocent things, [128] and so
on for the rest of them.152 Now is it possible to think that way? Cannot all feet
without exception be made cheerful as well as sorrowful in music, whether they
are used in Adagio or Allegro, or at the same time in the accompaniment, etc.?
According to the precepts of all the famous masters, I ought to be able to find
one and the same word set to all four types of foot, e.g.
For an iamb is not to be initiated with anything except an anacrusis, e.g.
If I now want to write it also in Latin, e.g
153
153
152
Father Spiess certainly may have let himself be misled by others, for he is not the first and
the only one who has written of this. But many have actually written books about music who
have never really learned about music and for whose sake I do not trouble myself to dip my pen
in ink. Still, if only he had been strongly advised by his colleagues to write nothing but church
pieces, and this so that people would not have reason to bother themselves about it or on the
contrary to mock him about it.
153
Just as some in some parts of the world: Ōbsērvānt quāntītātēs cæsŭrāsqŭe cărmīnūm. But,
NB, all of this no longer applies to Father Spiess, but rather I am only explaining the iamb.
347
Sometimes a small, forced exception will not excuse this bad rule. This Latin
verse would not come out so tastelessly, e.g.
In short, I cannot think of any pure Latin iamb. Composers have guided
themselves from time immemorial according to the syllabic meters of speak-
ers.153 And speakers according to the following:
<The accent on a monosyllable word is open.

For example: Rex, pax, vox, etc.
It moves back in a two-syllable word.
For example: hómo, cánit, etc.
Then, a shortened penultimate syllable makes the following one sharper.
For example: canémus, etc.
A long syllable is pronounced with a sharp sound.
For example: cánitis, homínibus, etc.>
More about this treatise on another occasion. I have only remarked on this
small part in order to have a little fun with your lord about it. If, however, he
has something against my opinion, I would be glad to hear about it.
Disc. Fun, for sure! Recently our Philip mentioned that in I don’t know what
country or kingdom, a few years ago, two composers were made doctors,
which, by itself, was perhaps a common occurrence. At the end, instead of
an examination as in the other fields of knowledge, unknown musical pieces
were set before them. However, both of them made audible errors during
their performance. Not withstanding that, they obtained this honor. The lead-
ing composer of that country (even known to us), who attended the pompous
ceremony, was also exhorted to take a doctorate as well. [129] Because he,
however, had perhaps no interest in such illusions, he answered thus: “Oh!
Heaven preserve me from the doctorate, since I could also fail, like these
two.” Now, from that hour on, my lord is the archenemy of Philip, because
this tale has now been told in a treatise. For Father Spiess describes himself
153
Of course, Cicero (like the Germans) may also have distinguished the troche from the iamb
from its usual pronunciation. For good writers assert that, e.g., Virgil applied no rule to the
rhythm of syllables, because he was a native speaker of Latin, and, consequently, he conformed
to the general mode of speech, namely, how even the peasants near Rome spoke about their
agriculture. Therefore, kitchen Latin must have sounded quite different from that of our times.
348
as: “Honorary corresponding member of the society for musical knowl-

edge in Germany.” The animosity has its sufficient basis perhaps in that
[Philip] continues to hope that he be permitted to correspond with them. Just
as if he would and should live forever. I therefore appeal to your conscience
to tell me which books are good or not good, so that I may not throw away
money, effort, and time needlessly. Could I but only execute a fugue theme!
Prec. Since you must already play the organ, I will recommend the fugues by
Mr. Eberlin, chapel master in Salzburg. It is the same book that had its first
printing in Augsburg. The Italian title is translated as follows: Nine Toccatas
and Fugues, composed by Johann Ernest Eberlin in Salzburg, etc., printed by
Lotters Erben in Augsburg. It would also be good if you already had a prac-
ticed and ready finger technique, for which I would recommend a German
work with the title Die Kunst, der Clavier zu spielen, durch den Verfasser des
critischen Musicus an der Spree (Berlin, published by Haude and Spener,
1751) [by Johann Marpurg]. This book, in quarto, has only four and a half
gatherings. If you wish a fuller treatment of these things, you should seek out
the large folio edition by Mr. [C. P. E.] Bach. There is also a special explana-
tion in German included.154 That title page reads as follows: Die wahre Art,
das Clavier zu spielen, etc.155 If you want a real treatment of fugal composi-
tion, buy the two parts in quarto by Mr. Marpurg. They are also written in
our native language. The title is this: Abhandlung von der Fuge nach den
Grundsatzen und Exempeln der besten deutschen und ausländischen Meister.
Entworfen von Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg. Nebst LXII Rupfertafeln (1753).
In the second part, however, Nebst LX Rupfertafeln, 1754. Both parts are
published in Berlin by Haude and Spener. Use it and read it carefully. I have
encountered unexpectedly in this Abhandlung von der Fuge so many beauti-
ful rarities that I might never have thought of in all my life. Indeed, we will
have scarcely three or four hours all together to write and to speak about the
fugue, for I will show you one and another composition from these masterful
treatises and refer you to them. Furthermore, these four or five mentioned
books are to be had everywhere, or at least to be inquired after in all of those
bookstores where musical works are also usually for sale.
154
In these parts it costs 6 gulden.
155
Recently Mr. Marpurg, of the Critischen Musicus an der Spree, published an extended edi-
tion of the aforesaid Kunst, das Clavier zu spielen with seventeen copper plates. It is now
called Anleitung zum Clavierspielen der schönen Ausübung der heutigen Zeit gemäβ. The
positioning and alternation of the fingers can be seen in it so completely that one could rightly
call it “the true way to play the keyboard.” And hereabouts it costs no more than 1 fl. 15 kr. It
is to be had where the
349
Disc. But will they be too expensive for me?
Prec. Some certainly cost more than others. But just consider that you will
receive a benefit thereby from them. For it is far better to spend 14 or 15 gul-
den for good books than 100 gulden for bad ones or for a teacher who makes
you inefficient for the rest of your life. From time to time I will tell you which
good ones have been published, insofar as I am able to distinguish the useful
from the useless. And in order to feel confident in this, I will submit my com-
ments to you and your lord. I really know very few books, and most of these
I have not had the time to go through completely.
Disc. But I might then. . . .
Prec. Away, then! Away! It is truly already midnight. Now this day was ours.
If God grants us another day, we will deal with tonal order in particular. One
generally takes, alas! too much of the world upon oneself. Much is forgiven
on the basis of good intentions, however.
Disc. I am especially pleased by this tonal order.
Prec. In that way we can learn to consider cantatas, opera arias, etc., in pass-
ing at the same time.
Disc. But I am going to stay tonight with my cousin here, and since I will
certainly sleep late tomorrow, I would rather return the day after tomorrow.
Nevertheless, tomorrow I must bring a little cheer home to Hansmichel. He
would like to ask you for a crab minuet. Be so good! I almost forgot about it.
Prec. Not at all? Well, you should certainly make use of the advantage of
setting all three voices in an orderly fashion one after the other until the
midpoint, in order to work out the second part with two voices by means of
inversion. In the meantime, I would do it this way: [130]
350
Now one violinist plays it regularly forward as usual, the other violinist, on the
contrary, begins at the sign✠and plays all the notes backward from right to left.
Each one makes cadence trills when he will. The bass could be played by two
in the same way, except that it would result in an unnecessary reinforcement.
But I also want to set down something quickly for a single violin, e.g.
Here you play with the violin normally as usual. Hansmichel can, however,
join in and play the bass on the violoncello normally as if the bass clef were
placed at the sign .
Disc. In that way it is no longer a crab canon.
Prec. From the first chapter you already know that I do not hold with such a
forced and unexpressive trifling.
Disc. I thank you for this bonus and wish you a good rest. I myself, however,
will certainly have good dreams, for you are right, music is a fathomless sea.
351
End of the second chapter.
ULM, printed by Christian Ulrich Wagner, Canzley book printer.
[The printing errors, identified here, at the end of the second edition, have
been incorporated into the text as translated and in the musical examples,
rather than listed here as in the original print.]
352
Rhythmopoeïa and Melopoeïa
The subtitle of Joseph Riepel’s Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen Setzkunst,

Chapter 1, is De Rhythmopoeïa, oder von der Tactordnung. Here as well
as in footnote 31 on page 42 [23],1 Riepel equates Rhythmopoeïa with Tac-
tordnung (“metric order,” in my translation). In his first footnote, on page 5
[1], Riepel translates Tactordnung with the Latin word metro (“meter”) and
quotes “Vossius”2 to the effect that poetic foot, meter, and rhythm are exactly
the same thing.
It is true that in footnote 88 on page 220 [43] of Chapter 2, Rie-
pel translates rhythmopoeïa as Reim-Ordnung (“rhyme scheme”), and on
page 346 [126] he equates rhythmopoeïa with Reimgebäude (“rhyme struc-
ture”), but these proposed German equivalents are incorrect. When writ-
ing those two passages, at least, Riepel seems to have confused rhythmo-
poeïa with rhymopoeia. The Oxford English Dictionary (on-line) identifies
rhythmopoeïa as a post-classical Latin word derived from the Greek words
ῥυθμοποιία (“rhythm”) and ποιία (“making”), which together yield the pro-
posed meaning,“the action of making time or rhythm.”
The word rhythmopoeïa can be traced to fragmentary medieval Latin
translations of Aristoxenus, Elementa rhythmica, where it refers to one of
the three aspects of rhythm, as it occurs in music, poetry, and dancing. Spe-
cifically, rhythmopoeïa refers to the patterning of accented and unaccented
syllables in poetry and its parallels in music and dance. Elaborations and
adaptations of this concept can be found in scattered fashion among musical
and theoretical writings in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and early eighteenth
centuries, particularly in Germany. The treatments best known to Riepel, in
all likelihood, would have been those by Wolfgang Caspar Printz, Johann
Mattheson, and Meinrad Spiess (whom Riepel cites with disapproval), where
the patterns are identified in musical measures as durations (quantities) rather
than as accents (qualities).3
1
In this essay, page numbers contained in rounded parentheses refer to the continuous pagina-
tion in our translation of Chapters 1 and 2 of Riepel’s Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen Setz-
kunst. Page numbers contained within square brackets, on the other hand, refer to the German
publication’s original pagination, which begins anew in Chapter 2. The original page numbers
also appear within square brackets in our translation.
2
I.e., Isaac Voss (1618–1689), De poematum cantu et viribus rhythmi (Oxford: Theatro Shel-
doniano, 1673), 11.
3
This paragraph summarizes information presented by George Houle, Meter in Music, 1600–
1800: Performance, Perception, and Notation (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press,
1987), 62–77.
353
Riepel’s most interesting comment on rhythmopoeïa comes toward

the end of his second chapter, long after his first examples, which were prob-
ably meant to introduce and illustrate the concept. On page 346 [126] he
complains that Meinrad Spiess “did not know that musical rhyme schemes
[recta ‘musical poetic-meter schemes’] (rhythmopoeïa) consist of several
measures, caesura [segments], and comma [segments]” rather than the pat-
terns formed by the relative durations of successive notes. Riepel illustrates
what he conceives as Spiess’s ignorant translations of the spondaic, pyrrhic,
iambic, and trochaic feet into musical rhythms defined as relative durations
in Example 724 on page 347 [127]. Taken together, Riepel’s Examples 723–
728 show the impropriety of that sort of equivalency. He condones the anal-
ogy between musical rhythms and poetic meters only when the poetic scan-
sion patterns are understood to relate to metrical accentuation rather than to
rhythmic durations in music. Thus, Riepel declares that, in a musical setting,
the iamb (∪-) requires the use of an anacrusis, or pick-up note, which he il-
lustrates in Example 726 on page 347 [128] with the rhythmic pattern: I$ │ #
etc.; and in Example 727 on the same page with the rhythm I$ │ $V etc. These
two equivalencies, taken together, show that metrical accentuation and not
duration is the crucial factor for Riepel.
Examples 726 and 727 not withstanding, Riepel seems wary of ap-
plying poetic meters to music,4 largely, it seems, because he assumes that mu-
sicians generally equate each syllable of a poetic foot to an individual note on
the basis of its duration, even though Riepel apparently knows better. Other
than the provocative sentences and examples quoted, Riepel never explains,
directly or exactly, what he means by rhythmopoeïa as properly applied to
music. Still, his first two chapters may be thought of as incorporating a very
extended, indirect explanation of his understanding of this concept.
The beginning of this explanation can be found in Riepel’s extended
discussion of Example 1 given on page 5 [1], a comically inept minuet melody
proposed by the Discantist, who has just presented himself as a new student
of the Preceptor. The Preceptor finds seven faults with this melody, at least six
of which concern the lengths of, separations between, or relations among seg-
ments of the melody. The Preceptor declares that (1) minuets should have an
even number of measures, (2) that these measures should form groups of two
and four bars as defined, e.g, by rhythmic patterning and/or by melodic/har-
4
In footnote 151 on page 346 [127], in Chapter 2, Riepel confesses, or pretends to confess,
that he has been criticized for using the term rhythmopoeïa in the first chapter of his treatise.
The placement of the footnote implies that he was criticized precisely because Spiess had used
the word incorrectly.
354
monic tension and resolution, (3) that groups of two and four measures should
be separated clearly by these same means and should be concluded by specific
degrees of rhythmic, melodic, and/or harmonic repose, (4) that groups of two
measures should be defined through the regular alternation of rhythmically ac-
tive and inactive measures, while the extremes of activity levels—rhythmically
dead notes and continuously running notes—should be avoided, except where
a more rhythmically energetic passage can effectively lead to the final point of
repose, (6) that the ascending contour of the first half of the minuet should be
balanced by the descending contour of the second half, and (7) that the division
of the first eight measures into two groups of four should be accomplished by
the deliberate control of rhythmic motion and repose. Even fault Number 5, the
lack of melodic recall in the second half of the minuet of motives introduced in
the first half, can be seen as yet another aspect of rhythmic relations between
large segments, inasmuch as this fault, like fault Number 6, underscores the
need for completion or resolution5 in the second half of the minuet. Examples
2–34 explore some remedies for these seven faults.
In his teaching about rhythmic motion and repose, Riepel develops
categories and terms arranged as binary opposites. As broad categories, he
first offers measures containing “immobile” (unbewegliche) or “dead” (todte)
notes, i.e., no rhythmic motion, versus “mobile” (bewegliche) or “lively” (leb-
endig) measures, which contain several notes.6 The category of “mobile” is
further broken down into “stepwise running” (stuffenweis laufende) versus
merely “stirring” (erhebende) a category itself divided into the subcategories
of “completely stirring” (vollkommen erhebende) versus “incompletely stir-
ring” (unvollkommen erhebende) notes and measures (6 [2]). In minuets, com-
pletely stirring measures contain rhythmic motion on each beat but are not
completely filled with the more rapid, uniform motion of continuously “step-
wise running” eighth notes. Incompletely stirring measures, in minuets, on the
other hand, contain one half note, on either the first or second beat.7 A bit later,
5
Riepel’s word is Beschluß on page [8].
6
See Examples 20, 40, 47, 76, and 77. In Examples 76 and 77 the immobile, measure-filling
dotted half notes are each preceded by a small-note appoggiatura, a notational convention
that Riepel defines on page 109 [63] of Chapter 1 by affirming that an appoggiatura takes
two-thirds of the duration from any dotted note to which it is applied. Thus, although several
of Riepel’s examples classify the rhythm I#$ │ as mobile or lively, the same pattern of du-
rations is considered immobile when they result from the correct realization of the notation
I^D │ . The reason for this may be found in the relation between the melody and its implied
harmony in such a measure, which relation creates the effect of a melodically decorated but
harmonically immobile dotted half note.
7
Further comments on my choices of English words in translating these terms can be found
in the Glossary of Translated Terms. Stefan Eckert, “Ars Combinatoria,” 110, mistranslates
355
Riepel distinguishes between “complete” (vollkommene) and “incomplete”

(unvollkommene) cadences, the former marked by a melodic descent through
scale-degrees 3–2–1, the latter by the melodic motion of leading tone to tonic
(26–28 [13–14]). Since incomplete cadences “are not sufficient to put the ear
at rest completely at the end of a piece of music” (26 [13]), we can understand
that this distinction belongs to “metric order” as much as to “tonal order,”
because it involves the reciprocal relations of relative closure versus relative
non-closure, i.e., to the relation of motion/tension versus repose.
The full, complete, authentic cadence, familiar to modern students
of eighteenth-century music, is defined by a combination of melodic ac-
tivity, chordal progression, formal context, rhythmic design, and metrical
placement. In Riepel’s treatise, cadences typically resolve by way of either
the 3–2–1 or 7–1 melodic motion (whose outline pitches might possibly be
found beneath surface decorations or diminutions), they normally conclude
with the It–V7–I chord progression in the local key area (although Riepel
does not use Roman numerals to describe this), they are found at the end of a
melodic segment of at least four metrical units, a segment that also satisfies
certain (never completely specified) melodic/harmonic conditions; cadences
are usually understood also to complete a larger formal segment consisting
of two or more subsegments of at least four metrical units each, and in four-
beat measures they conclude on beat 3 in common time, in which case each
metrical unit consists of two quarter-note beats, or they conclude on beat 1
when alla breve style results from the use of slower harmonic rhythm and/
or broader rhythmic and melodic patterns in the melody that create (possibly
temporarily) metrical units consisting of two half-note beats each. The entire
metrical structure of a melodic segment may be displaced, with respect to bar
lines, by various techniques, including beginning with the bass accompani-
ment alone, by elision, or by internal melodic expansion.
Whereas cadences are normally reserved for the conclusion of mid-
dle- and large-dimension segments, such as each of the two repeated halves
________________
erhebenden as “rising,” overlooking the fact that groups of erhebende notes are identified that
do not trace rising melodic contours at all in Riepel’s Examples 21, 22, 23, 24, and 443. Fur-
thermore, the German verb erheben is transitive and can mean “to elevate,” “to raise,” “to lift
up,” etc., but not “to rise.” Instead, the rhythmic definition of “completely stirring” notes and
measures is obvious from an early point, where Riepel’s Preceptor declares that “in a minuet,
however, completely stirring [notes], namely quarter notes, are needed instead [of stepwise
running notes]” (11 [4]). An earlier dissertation, Nola Jane Reed, “The Theories of Joseph
Riepel,” 37–39, offered the correct, rhythmic interpretation of this pair of terms, although her
choice of English equivalents, “imperfectly moving,” may not have been ideal because, again,
the German verb erheben is transitive and can mean “to move” only in the emotional sense.
356
of a binary-form piece or movement—a minuet for example—the smaller-di-

mension segments are usually concluded by a melodic-harmonic punctuation
called an Absatz (“comma”). In Chapter 2, the previously presented general
concept of the comma is refined and limited to the typical conclusion of a
complete melodic segment of at least four metrical units with either a V–I
(very rarely IV–I) chord progression in the local key—the “tonic comma”
(Grund-Absatz, Grundsatz)—or the half-cadence arrangement of I–V—or
predominant to dominant in the local key—the “changing comma” (Ände-
rungs-Absatz). In Chapter 2, the punctuation of a two-metrical-unit melodic
segment is called a “caesura” (Einschnitt).8 The “changing comma” is so
named “because after it a change (Ausweichung) of key always appears” (209
[36]). Usually the new key results from the normal resolution of a (possibly
local) dominant harmony, as for example V/ii to ii. Such a resolution may ap-
pear at the local level, as from the concluding chord of the changing comma
to the first chord of the next melodic segment, but it appears even more reli-
ably at the next level, from the concluding chord of the changing comma to
the concluding chord of the (possibly local) tonic comma at the conclusion
of the next melodic segment. The metrical placement and possible displace-
ment of a comma conform to the same norms and conditions as those of the
cadence: “conclusive” commas end melodically with the root of the conclud-
ing chord, while “inconclusive” commas end melodically with either the third
or the fifth of that chord. Although Riepel initially introduces conclusive and
inconclusive commas as subtypes of mobile commas (35-37 [19–20]), later
musical examples show that immobile commas may also be either conclusive
or inconclusive. Example 480, for instance, shows an inconclusive comma
marked by an immobile dotted half note; it is called a “complete and incon-
clusive” comma, inasmuch as Riepel has, by this point, tacitly renamed the
immobile or dead measure as “complete” when it is filled with the conclud-
ing note of a comma punctuation. In doing so, Riepel may cause confusion,
because earlier he had used the opposites “complete” and “incomplete” to
classify cadences (as opposed to commas) according to their melodic motion,
as explained above.
The relation between a changing comma at the end of one melodic
segment and a tonic comma at the end of the next stands, in some respect, as a
model for the implications and realizations (or tension and repose) created by
music in a variety of other contexts and dimensions. Still, the harmonic relation
does not always work in the same way but can be influenced by context, order,
melodic contour, and rhythmic design. Thus, Example 464 illustrates how the
8
Footnote 64 on page 86 [49] in Chapter 1 and page 209 [36] in Chapter 2.
357
notes following an initial tonic comma in bar 4 “immediately hurry toward

the changing comma” (213 [39]), which ends on the dominant in bar 8. Then
the continuation of the minuet, in Example 476, shows how the music might
“hurry back to the tonic note” found at the end of the tonic comma in bar 12,
which, however, does not satisfactorily conclude the minuet, since “the mel-
ody immediately strives back toward the principal, or tonic, cadence” in bar
16 (218 [42]). Because of this, the first four measures imply the second four,
while the first eight, in turn, imply the second eight. Because of this, one might
say that an iamb (∪-) is formed by the first four-plus-four combination, and
that a larger-scale iamb is also formed by the total eight-plus-eight structure.
Riepel’s melodic segments and their punctuations “hurry toward,”
“hurry back,” or “strive.” Changing commas “question” while tonic com-
mas “answer” or “affirm” (213–214 [39]). A cadence on the fifth degree is
“commonly announced by a changing comma” in that key (i.e., a punctuation
ending with V/V) at the end of the previous melodic segment (240 [57]).9 In
general, the Preceptor tells the Discantist, “the various commas must call and
answer each other in an orderly fashion.”10 And he proceeds to demonstrate
this with a series of remarkable examples, in which the melodic segments,
with their implied harmonization, parallel not merely the “call and answer” of
verbal communication but actually resemble a series of logical relations.11
Discantist observes that, just as there are tonic commas (■–commas)
and changing commas (□–commas), there must also be ■–caesuras and □–
caesuras, to which the Preceptor replies with a pair of examples:

In both cases the
solo could start
immediately
afterward.
And he continues, “Two such measures would be, in the view of philosophy,
no more than mere nouns.12 Just as if they would say, ‘compass and numbers’
or ‘hearing and keyboard’” (233 [52]).
9
The same procedure is illustrated in Example 561 and the same word, “announce” (a form of
the infinitive ankünden) is used in the commentary on page 251 [64].
10
Page 231 [51].
11
What follows here is adapted, with changes, from my article “The Logic of Phrase Structure
in Joseph Riepel’s Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen Setzkunst, Part 2 (1755),” Festa Musi-
cologica: Festschrift for George J. Buelow, ed. Thomas J. Mathiesen and Benito V. Rivera
(Stuyvesant, NY: Pendragon Press, 1994), 467-87.
12
[Riepel’s footnote:] <Subject or conclusion.>
358
Riepel designates both of these caesura-bordered segments as “no

more than mere nouns” evidently because they do not contain a complete
musical thought. Either of them is capable of beginning a comma-defined
segment (i.e., a phrase) yet either could also serve as the second half of a four-
bar segment ending with a □–comma (i.e., a V-phrase) or a four-bar segment
ending with a ■–comma, respectively; hence Riepel’s footnote refracts the
word “noun” into “subject or conclusion.” As conclusions, both two-bar
segments would require some prior musical motivation, something that
would transform these caesuras into commas. Or, as beginnings of phrases,
as they are more apparently intended, both segments need continuations: the
first because of its fifth-degree ending, and both because they are too short
and lack the balance between implication and realization that we see in all of
Riepel’s segments of four or more metrical units that end with a tonic comma
or full cadence,13 including Riepel’s next example:
Riepel’s Preceptor calls this example “a sentence” (Satz).14 “Just as

if its notes wanted to speak to us with the following words: ‘Compass and
numbers help, perhaps (□–caesura), the ear to tune the keyboard’” (Zirkel
und zahlen helffen vielleicht [□–Einsch.] dem Gehöre das Clavier stimmen)
(233 [52]). Riepel calls this four-bar phrase a “sentence” presumably be-
cause it contains two halves that form a “call and response,” an implication
and a realization, or a subject and a predicate, depending on the preferred
13
For the concepts “implication” and “realization,” I am indebted to Leonard B. Meyer, Ex-
plaining Music: Essays and Explorations (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973),
109–241; Eugene Narmour, Beyond Schenkerism: The Need for Alternatives in Music Analysis
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1977), 122–166; and Eugene Narmour, The Analy-
sis and Cognition of Basic Melodic Structures: The Implication-Realization Model (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1990). I began lecturing about this similarity between Meyer’s
implication-and-realization concept and Riepel’s theories, in 1988. When I first wrote about
this for publication, in “The Logic of Phrase Structure,” cited above, I was unaware of an ear-
lier writing connecting Meyer’s theory with that of Heinrich Christoph Koch, which is closely
modeled on Riepel’s, in Esther Cavett-Dunsby’s review of Introductory Essay on Composi-
tion: The Mechanical Rules of Melody, Sections 3 and 4, by Heinrich Christoph Koch, trans.
Nancy Kovaleff Baker, Music Analysis 6 (1987), 196–202. After I sent a copy of my article
“The Logic of Phrase Structure” to Leonard B. Meyer, he wrote back (April 27, 1995), “You
were right. . . . I hadn’t known about this aspect of Riepel’s theories. . . . So to build a theory of
implication is like rediscovering the wheel. . . . I rediscovered Riepel’s wheel. . . .”
14
[Riepel’s footnote:] <Proposition.>
359
metaphor. In the German-language sentence that the musical notes “wanted

to speak,” he places the caesura in the middle of the predicate rather than
between the subject and the predicate, evidently because he wanted to make
it correspond to a particularly pregnant moment in the verbal syntax, after
“helffen vielleicht” but before the needed object and the completion of the
compound verb. This point of maximum syntactic implication and pause in
the German-language sentence corresponds to the descending dominant triad
in the melody, which calls for a response like the decorated 3–2–1 descent
at the conclusion of the phrase. The more animated rhythmic diminution in
the second two bars replaces the quarter and two eighths of the first, and, as
a result, stepwise motion in the second two bars replaces and fills in the gaps
left by leaps of thirds in the first two bars. These factors, too, contribute to the
implication and realization found in this phrase: experimentally reversing the
diminutions of the two half-phrases would illustrate this point.
In his footnote, Riepel more precisely specifies this four-bar phrase
as a “propositio,” that is, something stated as a sentence that remains to be
discussed, maintained, proven, or solved. In musical terms, we would expect
some material in this phrase to be the subject of further elaboration. And
in some respect, the music should also leave a problem to be solved, some
residual implication left unrealized. The residual implication, in fact, results
from the descent to gʹ, which implies a continuation to cʹ not found within
the given phrase. Furthermore, this cannot be a concluding phrase because
it lacks a full cadence at the end, and it is rhythmically “incomplete.” These,
likewise, constitute, as it were, musical problems to be solved, or proposi-
tions to be supported.
Riepel gives us a second example of a musical sentence and, I be-
lieve, another propositio in particular:
The sentence expressed by these notes, according to the Preceptor, is “The hear-
ing helps numbers and compasses (■–caesura) to tune the keyboard purely”
(Das Gehör hilfe Zahlen und Zirkeln [■–Einsch.] das Clavier rein stimmen)
(234 [52]). In this case, a tonic caesura divides the phrase, and this corresponds
to the break in the sentence after the word “Zirklen”: “The hearing helps num-
bers and compasses. . . .” Notice that, in the German-language sentence that
360
Riepel has written to parallel the structure of this musical phrase, the first
part, up to the caesura, is syntactically self-sufficient, containing, as it does, a
subject, verb, and object. In the same way, the tonic caesura has some degree
of melodic and harmonic self-sufficiency, as it leaves no gaps in the scale and
ends on the tonic.
But the static and somewhat redundant circling of the note cʹʹ in the
first two measures requires some continuation, just as the verb “helps” begs
the question How? Furthermore, the rhythm of measure 2 is incomplete be-
cause its action continues until the third beat, whereas the rhythm of measure
4 is somewhat more conclusive because its activity is confined to the first
beat. Also measure 3 responds to measure 1 by introducing more activity
throughout with an expanded vocabulary of note values.
Riepel concludes the German-language sentence accompanying this
example with a complementary verb and an adverb in bold type. I believe
that he meant for the second half of the sentence to clarify and supplement
the first half, rather than to complete it: “The hearing helps numbers and
compasses to tune the keyboard purely.” Similarly, he concludes this ex-
ample with a tonic (V–I) ending, in rhythmically incomplete fashion, on cʹ,
which clarifies the key without creating redundancy, while leaving two scale
segments disconnected. This example, therefore, could be called a musical
proposition that will have to be supported in the balance of the composition.
Riepel’s next example, of eight bars, “is no longer called a sentence
but an actual conclusion because of the ■–cadence: nevertheless it is not
termed a complete one but an abbreviated and curtailed conclusion.”15
His language equivalent is “If measurement has become practice these days
(□–comma), then one can certainly not call it theory” (Wenn die Abmessung
heut zu Tage zur Practick geworden ist; [□–Abs.] Also kann man sie ja nicht
Theorie nennen) (234 [52]).
Riepel calls this example a “conclusion” (Schluß) because it ends
with a tonic cadence, but he qualifies it as an abbreviated and curtailed
15
[Riepel’s footnote:] Enthuymene.
361
conclusion and offers, in his footnote, the Latin enthymema, meaning “a syl-
logism in which one of the premises is implicit.” Indeed, one meaning of the
German Schluß is “syllogism.” The German-language text that Riepel offers
as a parallel to this musical example is, in fact, a syllogism in which the
major premise is only implied. In the given text, the implied major premise
could be stated as follows: “Everything that is practice is excluded from the-
ory.” The minor premise, simplified and clarified, would be, “Measurement is
practice.” And the conclusion, of course, would be “Therefore measurement
is not theory.”
Musically, Example 516 consists of four bars ending in a changing
comma (□–comma), which today we would call a half-cadence on V, an-
swered by four bars ending in a tonic cadence. These correspond to the minor
premise and the conclusion of the abbreviated and curtailed Schluß. It is ob-
vious that the musical implication of the changing comma corresponds to the
logical implication signaled by the word “if” (wenn), and the tonic cadential
realization at the end of the example corresponds to the logical consequent
signaled by the word “then” (also). Furthermore, the first four bars are divid-
ed by a caesura into two halves, which correspond to the subject and predi-
cate of the minor premise. Although the second four bars do not divide in the
same way, they do begin in an unstable fashion, as do the second halves of the
preceding two examples, paralleling the dependent syntax of the second half
of the German-language sentence in each case: neither an independent phrase
of music nor a separate sentence could begin as those second halves begin.
Once again, rhythm contributes to the “call and response” or im-
plication-and-realization relationship between the two phrases in Example
516. While the first phrase seems halting because of the rhythmic activity
concentrated on the first beats of measures 2, 3, and 4, measures 5 and 6
produce rhythmic acceleration and forward thrust that combine with the ris-
ing contour to point toward the melodic and rhythmic climax in measure 7.
And even as the phrase winds down to the cadence, the rhythm on the first
beat of measure 7 presses forward. This analysis can be confirmed by judging
the effect of an experimental reversal between the two four-bar segments as
regards their rhythmic profiles.
But what in this example reflects the suggestion of an implied major
premise? What is missing here? Looking ahead and comparing this with the
last example in this series, which corresponds to a complete syllogism, it
appears that the present example lacks a scalewise connection from gʹ down
to cʹ, and the final note here is added in rhythmically incomplete fashion.
In truth, that descent would normally be found at the end of the passage, as
it is in both of the following examples, whereas the missing major premise
362
would normally come at the beginning of a syllogism. Perhaps it is enough

that something is left out of the music in Example 516, regardless of where it
would have been located.
Riepel follows this example with another, similar in some respects,
but with a tonic comma punctuating the first four bars:
This represents another, perhaps even clearer, example of an abbreviated and

curtailed syllogism (an enthymeme). The linguistic equivalent that Riepel of-
fers is “Calculation of ratios does not serve composition (■–comma); there-
fore it can be left untouched without much cost” (Die Rational-Rechnung
dienet nichts zur Composition; [■–Abs.] Also läßt man sie hierzu ganz billig
unberührt) (234 [53]). The omitted major premise is obviously something
like “Anything that does not serve composition can be justly ignored.” The
minor premise and conclusion form a simple implication: if rational calcula-
tion does not serve composition, then it can be justly ignored. Likewise, the
two halves of Example 517 form an implication and realization. The first
concludes with an incomplete, conclusive tonic comma, whereas the second
concludes with a complete, conclusive tonic cadence. Furthermore, the rising
motion outlined by the two half notes, cʹʹ and dʹʹ, in measures 1 and 2, achieve
their logical continuation to the half-note eʹʹ in bar 5. But measures 7 and 8
introduce an abrupt change of register, which is not motivated by anything in
the first four bars. It presupposes something implied but not stated in the music,
something corresponding by analogy to the missing major premise: a musical
phrase that points to the lower-octave cʹ without actually supplying it.
On the other hand, a complete conclusion, according to Riepel,
would resemble Example 518:
The verbal equivalent that he offers is, “Any sort of usege is unnecessary
to composition (■–comma) if one cannot know how to give any rule for
363
it (□–cadence). Now, one cannot know how to give any rule for compass
usage (■–comma). Therefore compass usage is certainly quite unnecessary to
composition (■–cadence)” (Diejenige Practick ist zur Composition unnöthig,
(■–Abs.) vermöge der man hierzu keine Regel zu geben weiß. (□–Cad.) Nun
vermöge der Zirckel-Practick weiß man hierzu keine Regel zu geben; (■–
Abs.) Also is die Zirckel-Practick zur Composition freylich wohl unnöthig
[■–Cad.]) (186 [53]). This is a fully fledged syllogism:
Major premise: “Any sort of usage is unnecessary to composition if

one cannot know how to give any rule for it .”
Minor premise: “Now, one cannot know how to give any rule for
compass usage.”
Conclusion: “Therefore compass usage is certainly quite unnecessary

to composition.”
The syllogism might be diagramed as follows:
U = It is unnecessary to composition.
N = One is able to give no rule to it.
M = It is compass usage.
{(U ➜ N)
^ (M ➔ N)} ➔ (M ➔ U)
Notice that the syllogism logically contains three parts, but Riepel has ex-
pressed it in German using two sentences of two clauses each. This conve-
niently corresponds to a symmetrical (4 + 4) + (4 + 4) musical phrase con-
struction. But the major premise is represented by eight measures of music,
whereas the minor premise and the conclusion are each represented by only
four measures. On the one hand, the two-part construction of the major prem-
ise, which places the logical consequent first as an independent clause and the
logical antecedent second as a dependent clause—“U if N,” rather than “if
N then U”—is accurately reflected in the music as a tonic comma followed
by a cadence on the fifth degree. The minor premise, which in the German is
given as a dependent clause, is represented in the music as a four-bar segment
punctuated by incomplete tonic comma, a segment that is rendered even less
364
self sufficient by beginning with a falling (fonte) progression, starting on

V/ii. This makes the segment not well closed, because its tonic conclusion
seems only a temporary stop, merely suggesting, but not actually providing,
the implied concluding melodic note and harmony. Then the final four bars,
corresponding to the conclusion of the syllogism, realizes all outstanding im-
plications by connecting the full range of notes exposed so far, plus the aʹʹ for
good measure, with the upper- and lower-octave tonic notes in a full, formal,
complete, and conclusive tonic cadence.
My observation about the falling progression, which Riepel calls a
fonte (“fountain”), highlights a feature of this series of musical-linguistic par-
allels that I wish to expand upon, now. The logical relations among phrase
segments in Riepel’s examples, as in the mid-eighteenth-century musical
style in general, are not governed and determined solely by their concluding
punctuations but to a significant degree by their internal content, as well. This
is particularly suggested by Riepel’s heavy emphasis upon the specialized
melodic-harmonic character of the phrase segment immediately following
the double bar in a binary movement and by his recurrent use of a technical
vocabulary for a small number of standard melodic/rhythmic styles. Riepel’s
categories “boisterous,” “leaping,” “running,” and “singing” are defined in
the “Glossary of Translated Terms.” Initially presented as a group in Riepel’s
Chapter 1 (70-71 [39]), they refer to conventional types of passage classi-
fied according to their rhythmic and melodic features. His musical examples,
even more than his commentary, show that each type of passage correlates
with a category of function in the context of medium- and large-dimension
rhythmopoeïa.
A “boisterous passage” is characterized by energetic figures, such
as rapidly repeating notes; quick, wide-ranging but irregular arpeggios; pat-
terns of expanding leaps; etc. This type of passage is illustrated and labeled
in eight of Riepel’s examples (125, 150, 151, 155, 174, 270, 653, 659). In
two of these, the boisterous passage is shown out of context (150, 151). All
of the other six examples, i.e., those illustrating context, place the boisterous
passage(s) in a middle position, neither at the beginning nor at the end of a
movement or of a large segment of a movement, and every one of these bois-
terous passages leads toward a cadence, comma, or otherwise more stable
moment. In other words, Riepel shows that boisterous passages are normally
moving or transitional in function—we might say they represent an anacrusis
or initial unaccented member (∪) of an iambic grouping (∪–) at a middle
level of structural rhythm. Exactly the same can be said of Riepel’s examples
illustrating “running passages” (147, 148, 150, 151, 152, 153, 174, 175, 177,
191, 192). “Leaping passages” (150, 151) are never specifically labeled in
365
context. But when “singing passages” (147, 148, 150, 151, 155, 174, 175,
177, 191, 192) are shown in context, they are always found at the beginning
of movements or of major sections, or they provide the concluding, stable
goal of the motion provided by the boisterous or running passages. We may,
therefore, say that singing passages represent an accented member (–) of a
structural rhythm in Riepel’s examples.
Whereas “boisterous,” “leaping,” “running,” and “singing” passages
are defined by melodic and/or rhythmic features, another group of stereo-
typed passages is classified according to harmonic characteristics. Three of
these harmonically defined passages are named for topographical features:
the monte (“mountain”), fonte (“fountain”), and ponte (“bridge”).16 Another
three are named for birds: the “goldfinch” (Stieglitz), “sparrow” (Spatz), and
“peacock” (Phau).
Riepel introduces the monte, fonte, and ponte on pages 220-221 [43–
44], but he never specifies their defining characteristics, beyond declaring
that the monte (“mountain”) goes up, the fonte (“fountain”) goes down, and
the ponte (“bridge”) goes across (220, fn 90 [44]). To the extent that these
characterizations imply melodic shape, they are somewhat misleading. For in
actuality, seven of Riepel’s thirteen examples of the monte employ a melodic
line that actually descends overall (488, 489, 499, 540, 571, 573, 577; those
that ascend melodically are 72, 486, 487, 500, 536, and 712). Likewise, three
of Riepel’s examples contain instances of the fonte that do not descend me-
lodically overall (492, 493, 546; those that do descend melodically are 485,
490, 491, 502, 506, 571, 572, 576, 673, and 712). And of the eleven examples
that contain the ponte (494, 495, 496, 497, 498, 503, 506, 537, 547, 571,
574), none maintains a perfectly level melodic contour throughout, and only
four begin and end on the same melodic pitch (494, 498a, 503, 537). When
all these examples are taken together, it is clear that what “goes up,” what
“goes down,” and what forms a level bridge that “goes across” is the type of
chord progression that distinguishes each category of passage from the other.
In terms of root progressions familiar to modern students, the monte always
involves the pattern of chordal root movement up a fourth, down a third, up a
fourth; or down a third, up a fourth, down a third, up a fourth—thus, racheting
upward.17 The fonte always involves chordal movement following downward
16
Here and in my translation, I retain Riepel’s original Italian words because a small literature
about these terms (in Italian) has already appeared. The passages named for birds, however,
has not been the subject of commentary to the same extent.
17
When a chord progression of this type is combined with an unvaried melodic sequence that
repeats a melodic segment one step higher, Riepel calls it a “cobbler’s patch” (Schusterfleck),
a pejorative term known to German musicians from at least Weckmeister to Beethoven, and
366
along the circle of fifths, that is, by falling fifths and/or rising fourths–rachet-
ing downward–although at times the diminished or half-diminished seventh
on the leading tone may replace one or more of the chords in the pattern. The
harmony of the ponte examples always remains static overall, prolonging the
local dominant, although not by simply repeating it, in most cases.
While it is true that the monte and the fonte passages are based
upon harmonic sequences, it would be incorrect to define them as melodic-
harmonic sequences, inasmuch as many of Riepel’s examples of these two
categories actually do not embody a melodic sequence (488, 489, 492, 493,
499, 500, 502, 540, 546. 573, 577).18 Even the harmonic sequential pattern is
disturbed in some examples due to partial, internal repetitions (540, 546).
In the present discussion, what is most important about Riepel’s ex-
amples of the monte, fonte, and ponte is that, in those that include the sur-
rounding musical context, one can see that the so-designated stereotyped
chord progression always produces local motion toward, or in anticipation
of, a stable goal. Often, the designated chord progression is found immedi-
________________
called the Rosalia by Italians. See Anneliese Callen, “‘Vetter Michel’ and the Symphony,”
Jahrbuch für Volksliedforschung, 33 (1988), 81–89; Eva Linfield, “Modulatory Techniques in
Seventeenth-Century Music: Schütz, a Case in Point,” Music Analysis, 12 (1993), 197–214;
Jairo Moreno, “Challenging Views of Sequential Repetition: From ‘Satzlehre’ to ‘Melodieleh-
re,’” Journal of Music Theory, 44 (2000), 127–169; and Daniel Harrison, “Rosalia, Aloysius,
and Arcangelo: A Genealogy of the Sequence,” Journal of Music Theory, 47 (2003), 225–272.
18
Stefan Eckert, “Einschnitt, Absatz, and Cadenz,” Theoria 14 (2007), 107–108, fn 39, claims
that previous writers disagree about the nature of Riepel’s monte, fonte, and ponte, contend-
ing that some discuss these categories “largely on the basis of their harmonic orientation,”
while others “focus primarily on their melodic shape.” Eckert is not completely correct in this.
Most of these authors merely in passing characterize each of Riepel’s stereotyped passages
as “a sequence” or as “sequential,” without further specification (Budday, Sisman, Ratner,
Gjerdingen). Gauldin (92) refers exclusively to the sequential harmonic patterns, and in this
case Eckert is correct. It is also true that Steven Jan focuses on melodic direction, but only be-
cause he refers to his own Schenkerian reductions, where the melodic direction is an artifact of
the analytical method, often extracted spite of the contrary “surface” direction(s) of Riepel’s
example. Reed (9, 77–79) does specify most clearly that these passages are harmonically and
melodically sequential, and she is, therefore, most clearly wrong in over-generalizing. Most
misleading, in Eckert’s footnote, is his characterization of Gjerdingen’s “most comprehensive
discussion”: the two pages (365–66) in Gjerdingen’s article that include the passages cited
by Eckert contain neither references to Riepel nor to his monte, fonte, or ponte, and where
Gjerdingen does refer, very briefly, to Riepel and his categories (374), Gjerdingen merely
calls them, respectively, an “ascending sequence,” a “descending sequence,” or “a static yet
harmonically implicative repetition [sic] of a dominant seventh chord.” Hardly comprehen-
sive and not very precise. Far more valuable and nuanced discussion of Riepel’s monte, fonte,
and ponte is found in the more recent book by Gjerdingen, Music in the Galant Style, where
Riepel’s three stereotyped patterns practically form the backbone of the author’s exploration
of the galant style.
367
ately after the double bar of a binary movement, typically a minuet.19 Leon-
ard Ratner suggests that the function of any passage found in this position,
hence, the function of a monte, fonte, or ponte when placed there, “is to
open the way to the final confirmation of the tonic,”20 while Stefan Eckert
concludes, similarly, that such passages “function as continuation pattern af-
ter an emphatic closure in the dominant.”21 But those generalizations would
need to be broadened when one considers a group of examples (571–577,
on 256–260 [67–71]) in which the monte, fonte, or ponte is located in a non-
binary movement and, in most cases, neither immediately following a ca-
dence on the dominant nor immediately preceding a cadence on the tonic. In
these examples, the stereotyped passage modulates from one place to another
or prepares for a cadential phrase. Riepel’s Preceptor actually recommends
each category of stereotyped chord progression as the best continuation after
cadences or commas on specific scale degrees. Thus, a cadence or comma
on the fourth degree typically calls for the monte, which, for example, can
produce a rise from IV to V as preparation for I. A punctuation on the sec-
ond or sixth is better followed by the fonte, which might descend along the
circle of fifths even as far as IV (e.g., V7/ii–ii–V7–I–IV–V7–I). And the fonte
can serve to prolong the concluding harmony of a cadence or comma on the
fifth degree in preparation for the tonic (256–257 [67]). In all but a very few
cases, the monte, fonte, or ponte passage does not, itself, end with a comma
or cadence. Thus, the content and not the concluding punctuation produces
instability and implication in passages of these types. In keeping with the
theme of rhythmopoeïa, we may conceive of such a stereotyped passage as
constituting an unaccented member (∪) of an end-accented or middle-ac-
cented grouping of phrases at the middle level.
The three types of passage named for birds—the goldfinch, the spar-
row, and the peacock—likewise belong to the category of unstable, impli-
cative phrases. Riepel’s examples of the goldfinch and the sparrow (508,
510, 590) are initial segments ending with a changing comma. He does not
explain the need for nicknames or the reasons for his choice of them. But in
these examples, the use of a changing comma as the first punctuation runs
the risk of redundancy, as they are followed, sooner of later, by a changing
cadence or another changing comma. Perhaps Riepel was thinking of the
19
This has been reported by several earlier writers, including Leonard Ratner, Classic Music:
Expression, Form, and Style (New York: Schirmer Books, 1980), 213–14; Budday, Grundla-
gen musikalischer Formen der Wiener Klassik, 79; Waldura, Von Rameau und Riepel zu Koch,
399; Eckert, “Einschnitt, Absatz, and Cadenz,” 107.
20
Ratner, Classic Music, 215.
21
Eckert, “Einschnitt, Absatz, and Cadenz,” 110.
368
songs of these two birds, which incorporate repetition. Thus, all the examples
of the goldfinch begin with three measures implying a sustained or repeated
tonic bass note, followed by a comma on the dominant (Example 508 on
229 [50] and the first five bars of Example 578 on 261 [71], identified as a
goldfinch in the commentary on 262 [72]). The peacock, on the other hand,
is found after the double bar in one binary-form example (511), and it is so
named because it is “extraordinarily long” (231 [51]). A fourth bird name is
added to these (230 [51]), the “bullfinch,” or Gümpel, which in German (in
the modern spelling, Gimpel) carries the slang connotation of “dunce” or
“ninny.” The “bullfinch,” therefore, is not really a type of passage but simply
a teasing name for an elementary error.
*
In this discussion so far, it would seem as if Riepel conceives the
proper “metric order” (Tactordnung = rhythmopoeïa) as requiring symmetri-
cal balances of 1 + 1, 2 + 2, 4 + 4, 8 + 8 bars, producing, for example, a min-
uet of exactly sixteen measures of four foursomes equally grouped into two
reprises.22 However, a great deal of what Riepel has to present, particularly
in his Chapter 2, aims at extending this model and disrupting its symmetry,
at least on the surface of the music.
Riepel explains these extensions and disruptions as derivations from
the four-square model, which provides their foundation and framework. By
the end of Chapter 2, units of five or more measures will be unmasked as
expanded, extended, or compounded four-bar melodic segments. Only the
three-bar segment (the “threesome”) remains something of a puzzle, at least
for a while: very near the beginning of Chapter 1, Riepel’s Preceptor avers
that “threesomes are of no use at all” in a minuet, but immediately prom-
ises to explain “when and where the latter can be well introduced” (8 [3]).
Eventually we learn that in some cases a threesome is actually a twosome
expanded by some mechanical means, such as varied repetition (Examples
22
This aspect of Riepel’s theory of phrase rhythm is emphasized by Budday, Grundlangen
musicalischer Formen der Wiener Klassik, in his chapter on “Taktordnung,” 128–142; and in
his article “Über ‘Form’ und ‘Inhalt’ in Menuetten Mozarts,” Archiv für Musikwissenschaft,
44 (1987), 58–89. In both places, Budday presents phrase rhythm as purely the result of rela-
tions among segments and their subdivisions defined exclusively by the lengths. And he insists
that Riepel’s concept of proper phrase rhythm is tightly bound to a preference for multiples of
two bars, especially even multiples. This interpretation of Riepel’s rhythmopoeïa reflects the
quantity-based scansion that Riepel rejects in favor of the quality-based scansion, as explained
above. And it fails to unite Riepel’s elementary examples of unexpanded phrases with his ex-
tended examples, in which such regular phrasing is actually avoided.
369
4 and 8). In other cases two or four threesomes together are tolerated be-
cause the resulting sixsomes at least have internal symmetry (55 [30] and
58 [32]). But even in this case, the one or two pairs either require closure by
means of a succeeding regular foursome,23 or are considered to constitute
an insertion between two standard melodic segments (58 [31]). An isolated,
single threesome, however, would contribute to an “outlandish composition,
confusing to the ear” (22 [11]), which “remains completely improbable and
extraordinary to our hearing” (55 [30]) and which “is of no use” (61 [34]).
The final word on threesomes is not provided explicitly but can be inferred
from their appearance in some examples: a single threesome can never con-
stitute a complete melodic segment by itself because it cannot be divided into
a musical subject and predicate so as to form a complete sentence, whereas
two threesomes may do so (235-236 [53] and Example 519). As mentioned,
longer irregular segments are eventually shown to result from expansions or
extensions of regular foursomes.
Although Riepel’s techniques of phrase and period expansion, con-
traction, and extension have been discussed by previous writers, most fruit-
fully by Elaine Sisman,24 it will be useful, here, to attempt a comprehensive
account of these techniques as explained, enumerated, and exemplified in the
first two chapters of Riepel’s treatise, especially in Chapter 2, pages 236-281
[54–84]. Within this portion of the treatise, Riepel’s Preceptor appears to
conclude an enumeration of five means or techniques of “prolongation”: (1)
[creation of and relations among] commas, (2) repetition [of entire phrases or
portions of phrases, possibly varied or with different pitches], (3) [internal]
expansion [through elaboration or insertion of derived or unrelated mate-
rial], (4) insertion [between comma-defined phrases], and (5) doubling of ca-
dences [i.e., repetition, with or without elision, of entire cadential phrases or
only their conclusions] (236-245 [54–60]). Later in this discussion, Riepel’s
Discantist attempts to recapitulate by listing six ways to “vary” an Allegro
movement: “repetition, expansion, prolonging or shortening the [segments
punctuated by] commas, doubling of cadences, and insertion” (261 [71]).
The new element in this list is “prolonging or shortening the [segments punc-
tuated by] commas.” Prolonging comma-punctuated segments is achieved
by repetition, expansion, or insertion; so this appears to be nothing new. It is
the shortening of comma-punctuated segments that has not been specifically
23
Example 118 on 56 [30–31] and Example 120 on 57 [31].
24
Sisman, “Small and Expanded Forms, 444–475. Also see Reed, “The Theories of Joseph
Riepel,” 82–96; Budday, Grundlagen musikalischer Formen der Wiener Klassik, 52–76; Les-
ter, Compositional Theory in the Eighteenth Century, 262–265; Eckert, “Ars Combinatoria,”
167–183; Waldura, Von Rameau und Riepel zu Koch, 419–431.
370
addressed before. Two possible meanings occur to me, but neither can be as-
cribed with complete certainty. Shortening might result from omission of one
bar or half-bar from a potential foursome while preserving the concluding
measure, resulting in a comma-punctuated threesome. There are many ex-
amples of such threesomes in Riepel’s first chapter (Examples 4, 38, 43, 116,
118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 126, 127, 143, 144, 156, 160, 162, 163, 164, 200,
203, and 271). Or the concluding measure of a foursome might be cut away
and replaced by the first measure of the following phrase. This, however,
is explained under the heading of (5) doubling of cadences, as will become
clear below.
Creation of and relations among commas. In the discussion that
leads up to the enumeration of Riepel’s first two methods of prolongation
(236-242 [54–58]), the Preceptor shows how commas can be differentiated
from caesuras, which are lower-level segment punctuations. This process of
differentiation does not, of course, increase the length of a work, but it does
open the way for the multiplication of caesuras in comma-defined phrases of
more than four bars (Example 526 on page 238 [55]). And, in the same span
of pages, Riepel’s Preceptor introduces some observations (neither for the
first time nor for the last) governing the proper order and relations among
commas, e.g., “Between two equivalent commas there should certainly be
placed a cadence or a different sort of comma” (239 [56]), except if the sec-
ond comma-punctuated segment is a repetition or untransposed variation on
the first (228 [49], Ex. 501; 304 [98]). And the Discantist later dutifully reas-
serts that “the commas and cadences . . . speak with one another in an orderly
fashion” (242 [58]), a maxim already supported by the discussion of logic
that immediately precedes this treatment of prolongation. After moving on to
internal phrase expansion, insertion, and the repetition of cadences (242–250
[58–63]), Riepel’s Preceptor returns to the relations among commas (and ca-
dences) and how these relations can form a hierarchy. The discussion that
follows includes Riepel’s concept of the compositional miniature and the
personification of local key areas as a hierarchy of cooperating farm work-
ers—two metaphors that have attracted modern commentary.25
Those two metaphors—the compositional miniature and the hierar-
chy of key areas—are related. The concept of the compositional miniature
arises from Riepel’s advice about adequate preparation for a cadence on the
fifth degree when it occurs just before the medial double bar of a binary-form
25
Reed, “The Theories of Joseph Riepel,” 114–116; Eckert, “Ars Combinatoria,” 38–43; Bud-
day, Grundlagen musikalischer Formen der Wiener Klassik, 77–80; Bella Brover-Lubovsky,
“Le diable boiteux, Omnipresent Meyer, and ‘Intermediate Tonic’ in the Eighteenth-Century
Symphony,” Indiana Theory Review, 26 (2005), 18–19.
371
movement. The outline of such a binary-form movement, the Discantist ob-

serves, could be reduced, in stages, to the letters C–G–C (252–253 [65]). The
Preceptor observes that the minuets and Allegro movements just previously
examined restrict their commas and cadences to those belonging to the keys
of the first and fifth degrees, “as if, e.g., a steward (Meyer) and his foreman
(Oberknecht) work in the field and speak to each other with perpetual ques-
tions and answers. C is like the steward and G is like the foreman” (253
[65]). This prompts the Discantist to expand the analogy to an entire hier-
archy of seven farm workers, representing the local tonic chords and keys
based on the six scale-degrees to which a perfect fifth can be added within
a given diatonic scale, plus the minor chord and key parallel to the overall
major tonic. This will, in turn, open the way to Riepel’s consideration of
expanded harmonic plans. These local keys will be represented in more ex-
tended miniatures, and a discussion of the proper ordering, preparation, and
weighting of modulations will ensue. But before this, the Preceptor inserts a
curious digression that has never been the subject of comment in scholarship.
The digression is the story about the (South) American sloth, an ani-
mal, so it is pretended here, which requires two days to climb up a tree and
two more days to climb down and which sings at night, also very slowly, the
six diatonic scale-degrees just mentioned, ascending and descending very,
very slowly by diatonic step (254 [66]). The Preceptor’s point, I believe, is
to emphasize that the six diatonic scale-degrees that can be found in a com-
positional miniature and that are personified by six of the seven farm work-
ers, should unfold, in actual music, at the slow pace of the sloth’s imagined
nocturnal song. These diatonic-scale degrees, or, more properly, the local
keys of which they become the tonic notes, will be prolonged, in Riepel’s
examples, by aggregating tonic commas, changing commas, and cadences,
possibly repeated, in each of the local keys chosen, as well as by the other
means of prolongation listed above and discussed below. Thus, the sloth’s
slow song symbolizes the slow pace of local key-rhythm.
After assigning to each local tonic note the name of a farm worker,
each one precisely placed within a social hierarchy, the Preceptor illustrates,
in Example 569, a modulation scheme using all the local keys in the or-
der C–G–C–a–e–F–d–C–c–C. Immediately afterward, in Example 570, he
re-emphasizes the supremacy of the overall tonic key by showing how to
modulate from it directly to each one of the other six local keys represented
in his farm-worker hierarchy.26 Riepel’s Preceptor further suggests that the
26
Brover-Lubovsky, “Le diable boiteux, Omnipresent Meyer,” shows how common in mid-
eighteenth-century music are modulation schemes in which excursions to secondary keys al-
ternate with brief returns to the original tonic.
372
key of the fourth degree is best left by means of the rising sequence (monte),
the minor keys of the second and sixth degrees are better followed by the
descending sequence (fonte), while the fifth degree can be prolonged by the
ponte (256–257 [67–68]). This suggestion is communicated to the Discantist
and to Riepel’s readers by mean of the written text as well as by means of Ex-
amples 571, 572, and 573. The Preceptor warns, however, that in the Allegro
of a symphony or concerto in C major, formal cadences are generally made
only on C, G, and A—in fugues and some concerto movements a cadence on
E might replace that on A (295 [93])—while the other keys should be sug-
gested only by caesuras or, at most, by commas (he does not specify whether
tonic commas or merely changing commas, on the applied dominants). Thus,
the hierarchy among keys, hence the large-scale rhythmic relations (rhyth-
mopoeïa) among the musical segments in those keys, is determined by pitch
hierarchy (melopoeïa) and the closely corresponding category of punctua-
tion, rather than by the relative length of each segment.
Repetition. Although repetition is listed second in the Preceptor’s
enumeration of five means or techniques of “prolongation,” it comes first in
the discussion immediately preceding, and, really, it is demonstrated and ex-
plained in many other places throughout Riepel’s first two chapters, starting
very near the beginning.
One of Riepel’s most significant remarks about repetition, and one
that goes to the heart of its relation to large-scale phrase rhythms, comes, ap-
propriately, immediately after the fascinating passage about phrase structure
and logic, discussed above. Continuing a series of trials, in which he dem-
onstrates his understanding of phrase expansion through repetition, the Dis-
cantist offers to “make two repetitions so that twelve measures result from
it,” with Example 522.
The Preceptor accepts this: “Without a single objection. For the ear always ac-
cepts such twelve measures as merely a reinforced eightsome. Furthermore, as
you have already heard in the first chapter, repetitions do not easily spoil that”
(237 [54]). I think this means that the addition of repetitions does not change
the rhythmic definition of a basic phrase, so that in terms of rhythmopoeïa, the
twelve measures in Example 522 are still to be considered an eightsome, that
is, two foursomes. And so it should be with all expanded segments.
373
Exactly as stated by the Preceptor, repetition is the principal means

of expansion explored in the first chapter of Riepel’s treatise. In this connec-
tion, he first illustrates and explains the use of a “clause,” a melodic segment,
usually two measures long, often either the first half of a complete four-bar
melodic segment or else a segment inserted between two such segments but
belonging to neither. A clause is often harmonically static, cantabile in style,
and suitable for repetition and/or recurrence: hence Riepel’s term “sweet
repetition-clause” (20 [9], 34 [18]).27 The entries for “repeat,” “repeated,”
and “repetition” in the Index, at the end of this volume, show how numerous
and widely dispersed are Riepel’s discussions of this prolongation technique.
Many of these indexed discussions and their related musical examples de-
scribe and illustrate the uncomplicated repetition of entire half-movement
periods in binary forms or of complete comma- or cadence-punctuated seg-
ments, with or without variation. Another sizable number of these references
deal with the (sweet) repetition clause. But the rest of the indexed pages
explore the partial or elided repetition of segments that notably contribute to
avoidance of four-square phrasing and can involve complexity that invites
further exploration here. Let Example 521 stand for many. The numbers 1,
2, 3, and 4 have been added to Riepel’s example, here, in order to clarify the
repetition that has been added, with prime used to signify a variation:
Internal expansion through elaboration or insertion of derived

or unrelated material. Riepel’s examples show that any measure or metrical
unit in a foursome might, under the proper circumstances, be immediately
repeated singly or as group, combined with its neighbor(s), and that such
a repetition might continue, within the limits of taste and judgement. The
27
See Examples 35, 36, 107, 136, and 589; and pages 15, 16, 26-28, 33, 42, 45, 51, 53, 93, 94,
218, 225, 234, and 257.
374
really interesting examples, however, combine variation with repetition or

carry variation to the point of substitution, which Riepel is likely to call
“expansion” (Ausdähnung or Ausdehnung). To clarify and illustrate this, I
offer the illuminating series of Examples 541–545 from 243-245 [59], to
which I have added the numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4, to identify the four metrical
units of the original foursome (Example 541), with prime, double prime, and
triple prime added to identify variants of or, if you prefer, substitutions for
the four metrical units of the original foursome. I have placed these modified
examples in my translation of Riepel’s dialog in order to retain context.
243 [59] Disc. Although it is almost indistinguishable from the previous two
prolongations, I would not have thought of it readily. I like it above all else.
But you have only prolonged the caesura [segment]. With your permission, I
will include the comma [segment] together, namely:
I will thus prolong both of them, e.g.
Stop, stop! Now I see that I have made the comma segment two measures
shorter than the caesura [segment]. Therefore, I will quickly. . . .
Prec. Just let it be! One often sees, even in good compositions, that the comma
[segment] is longer than the caesura [segment], e.g.
375
They sometimes flow as smoothly into the ear as if they were both of the
same length, if perhaps not more smoothly.
Disc. It pleases me anew to hear this. Besides, I notice that repetition ✠ can
likewise help expansion, e.g.
Prec. Certainly, namely in all Θ.
Disc. May I then also sometimes deceive the ears a little by means of an
occasional separation (Zertheilung) of twosomes?
376
[60] Prec. You can write such passages three to four times per year, for I find
that the twosome is not just separated but rather a bit confused by means of
varied notes.
In annotating Example 545, I have also added brackets and the
word “twosome” in four places, in order to illustrate the Discant’s offer to
“deceive the ears a little by means of an occasional separation of twosomes.”
Riepel had introduced the technique of separating twosomes much earlier,
in Chapter 1, and this is the relevant place to recall his examples because
his earlier uses of separation are certainly instances of internal expansion
through insertion of unrelated material. We may call this technique “dividing
one phrase by insertion of another.” Riepel’s first two illustrations of this
technique are found in Examples 91 and 95, offered by the Discant but
rejected by the Preceptor. Here is the first of these (the second one, Example
95, is the same but merely transformed from 3/4 to 2/4 meter through the use
of syncopation):
However, in reaction to the Discantist’s later attempt, the Preceptor merely

admonishes, “That is quite a quibbling solution; indeed, it is almost too
strange” (70 [39]). In Example 149 I have added the numbers 1, 2, 3, and
4 in order to point out the undivided, divided, and inserted foursomes. The
divided foursome results in two separated twosomes:
377
A further technique for expansion from within a comma- or cadence-

defined phrase is the shift from common time to alla-breve style. This does
not involve insertion of material, but it does result in a phrase that is lon-
ger than four metrical units, as initially established. Alla-breve style was ex-
plained near the beginning of this essay, and explanations and examples of
its use can be located with the Index to the translation. In Example 600, the
concluding note of the cadence has been added, along with the usual numbers
1, 2, 3, and 4 to identify the components of a regular cadence-defined phrase:
A shift to alla-breve style or back to common time can be applied to any

single or group of metrical units within a comma- or cadence-defined phrase,
or to any portion of an insertion, for that matter, as will be clear when we
examine Riepel’s extended examples, below.
Insertion between comma-defined phrases. Riepel’s simplest

illustration of this technique, in Example 599, while not typical in its brevity,
makes the concept perfectly clear:
Riepel introduces this technique with very little commentary, but it turns out to be
the most important and most-often-used of the expansion techniques differentiated
in his treatise. In the quoted dialogue, given below, Riepel’s musical examples
have been modified by the addition of the numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4, which refer to
the functions that constitute a comma-defined phrase or segment:
378
“Prec. The fourth way to prolong a melody is the insertion (Einschiebsel),

which is called parenthesis claudatur (“parenthetical clause”) in Latin. First
I will just set out a quite plain opening, e.g.
[61] And now I will insert, say, four measures, e.g.
And this can be done not only at the beginning but throughout, wherever
desired.”
Although Riepel does not comment on these insertions, it is clear
that, although they are each four measures long, they are not true comma-
defined phrases because, as semi-sequence or sequence with two members
ending similarly, they each constitute an assemblage of two caesura-defined
twosomes without the subject-predicate, call and response, relationship found
in true foursomes. (We will return to this matter under the heading “An eight-
some phrase,” below.) This explains why a stereotyped pattern of the monte,
fonte, or ponte category, as discussed above, usually constitutes an insertion
between comma-defined phrases rather than a comma-defined phrase in its
own right, as illustrated by Examples 535, 536, and 537 (241-242 [57–58]).
In some cases, two caesura-defined twosomes can become a comma-defined
379
foursome through the mere expedient of changing the second caesura into a
comma, thereby making it respond to the first caesura, rather than allowing
it to remain a sequentially parallel replication of the first caesura. Example
530 (239 [55]) illustrates this point. Still, in general, according to Riepel’s
theory, an exact sequence is normally to be considered an insertion between
comma-defined phrases, and this generality has been used very fruitfully to
refine the twentieth-century concept of the Fortspinnungstypus phrase and
movement construction.28
In Example 549 (above), the insertion, or parenthetical clause, takes
the form of a semi-sequence and a sequence. Much earlier in the treatise, in
Example 107, Riepel showed an insertion between comma-defined phrases
that is, instead, a repeated twosome (numbers added to identify comma-de-
fined foursomes):
Note that Riepel identifies the two twosomes as a “clause.” The resulting
four measures do not constitute a comma-defined phrase because the two-
somes are the same and therefore cannot constitute a subject and predicate.
The clause marked in Example 120 has the same characteristic but is made
up, instead, of a threesome and its repetition. Examples 93 and 98 contain
what amount to clauses inserted between comma-defined phrases, but they
are not marked or in any way identified as such in the text. As mentioned
in the “Glossary of Translated Terms,” the segments that Riepel labels as
“clause,” “repetition clause,” and “sweet repetition-clause” are generally
harmonically static and cantabile in style. About half of these clauses com-
28
Junko Kaneko, “Fischer’s Fortspinnungstypus Period: A New Definition and Clarification
Based on Eighteenth-Century Theory,” Musiktheorie als interdisziplinäres Fach: 8. Kongress
der Gesellschaft fùr Musiktheorie, Graz, 2008, ed. Christian Utz (Saarbrücken: Pfau, 2010).
A longer presentation, although less generally accessible, is found in Junko Kaneko, “Forts-
pinnung as Einschiebsel: A Reinterpretation of Fischer’s 1915 Analysis in Light of Riepel’s
1752-1755 Theory,” MM thesis, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, 2004.
380
prise metrical units 1 and 2 of a comma-defined foursome together with their

immediate repetition (Examples 35, 36, 37, 68, 69, 70, and 90). One involves
the repetition of metrical units 3 and 4 (Example 112). Four of them might
even be judged to constitute comma-defined foursomes (Examples 136, 141,
270, and 271). But in a series of extended examples (Examples 555, 579,
590, and 604), to be discussed later, comparisons with related examples re-
veal the presence of greatly extended, highly elaborate clauses, inserted be-
tween comma-defined phrases and containing repetition and other forms of
internal expansion, such as “pitch alteration” (Tonwechselung), in which the
rhythm and melodic contour of a segment, typically one metrical unit, are
repeated with minor or patterned changes in melodic pitches and, often, with
such non-modulating modification of harmony as exchange between tonic
and dominant chords (269 [76]; 281 [84], Ex. 604; 318 [104]). These clauses
constitute major portions of the complete symphonic movements represented
by Riepel’s extended examples and in the actual repertoire to which he refers.
Doubling of cadences. A cadence-defined phrase may be repeated,
with or without variation, just as any other phrase. The third and fourth metri-
cal units of such a phrase can also be repeated, varied or not. These instances
would be covered by two of the techniques already discussed. The separate
technique called “doubling of cadences” includes, in addition, the duplica-
tion of a cadential function by the addition of a second (third, etc.) cadence-
defined phrase with the same category of conclusion, perhaps with the first
cadence modified so as to render it inconclusive, as in Example 550:
And the category includes repetitions or additions of cadence-defined phrases

whose first metrical unit replaces the concluding unit of the immediately
preceding cadence-defined phrase, by a technique called “cutting away”
381
(Eintheilung), which today might instead be called “elision” or “overlap.”

Riepel illustrates this by modifying the foursomes shown in Example 551.
Example 552 shows a modification of Example 551 using the process of

cutting away. I have marked this by the annotation “1 = 4,” indicating that
the fourth bar of Example 552 functions both as the fourth metrical unit of
the first phrase and the first metrical unit of the second phrase. Actually, the
fourth bar of Example 552 combines the initial note, C, from the fourth bar
of Example 551 with the note A from bar 5 of Example 551. In addition, it
is understood that the note C in bar 4 of Example 552 is harmonized with
the triad of the sixth degree, inasmuch as the note is marked by a cross, ✠,
indicating a “false and deceptive cadence,” according to note included with
Example 550.
As a summary of several points introduced here and above, Examples

270 and 271 (115 [66]) make an instructive pair, because they illustrate a
combination of cutting away of commas and a shift between alla-breve and
common-time styles, including the situation in which two measures in 2/4
make up each single alla-breve metrical unit. In Example 270, the fourth bar
of the first alla-breve-style foursome is cut away in favor of a repetition of
its own second metrical unit. But then the conclusion of this partial foursome
repetition is, itself, cut away, as shown in Example 271, where, however, the
first cut-away from Example 270 is disentangled.
382
An eightsome phrase. A special type of eight-bar segment is shown

in Example 526. We shall call it, henceforth, an “eightsome phrase” so that
it can be properly identified when it occurs in a compound meter, such as
normal (not alla-breve style) common time.
383
This type of phrase is not given a name in Riepel’s treatise, and the means
of its construction are not included in his enumerations of expansion tech-
niques. But it amounts to a comma-defined phrase of more than four metrical
units, and, because of this, it belongs in a discussion of phrase lengthening.
The Discantist complains (238 [55]) that the two commas in Example 526
seem too far apart, but he admits that the resulting double-length (“half-as-
short”) comma segments could be useful in lengthening a piece of music.
Each eightsome phrase in this example begins with a twosome that is im-
mediately repeated one step higher or lower, followed by a regular comma-
defined foursome. Eightsome phrases of the kind illustrated in Example 526,
or at least caesura-defined foursomes of the kind that constitute the first half
of such phrases, can be seen in Examples 576, 579, 590, and 604 as anno-
tated below. The Preceptor illuminates this construction by demonstrating
that the caesura in the fourth bar of Example 526 could be transformed into
a comma by altering its punctuating notes so as to respond to, rather than to
parallel, the caesura punctuation in bar 2. This is demonstrated in the frag-
ment of Example 532 shown here.
The same comma punctuation could also be substituted for the caesura in
bar 12 of Example 526, except, of course, that each substitution would cre-
ate an unacceptable redundancy with the tonic comma in bar 8. The first
four bars of Example 526 might be thought of as derived from a normal,
comma-defined foursome, as illustrated in Example 532, but the eightsome
construction shown in measures 1–8 and 9–16 of Example 526 is so com-
mon in mid-eighteenth-century music that it would probably be preferable to
consider it a thing unto itself.29 More to this point, the eightsome construc-
tions shown in Example 526 cannot be reduced to any shorter, basic struc-
ture within Riepel’s theoretical framework: they are not really expansions
29
Eugene K. Wolf, The Symphonies of Johann Stamitz: A Study in the Formation of the Clas-
sic Style (Utrecht: Bohn, Scheltema & Holkema, 1981), 122, calls this a 2+2:4 bar form. The
structure is so common in mid-eighteenth-century music that the construction of its first half,
the initial caesura-defined foursome, as exemplified in mm. 1–4 and 9–12 in Ex. 526, is the
subject of an entire book: Robert O. Gjerdingen, A Classic Turn of Phrase: Music and the
Psychology of Convention (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1988). Budday,
“Über ‘Form’ und ‘Inhalt’,” 76, discusses this 2+2+4 comma-defined eightsome in connection
with an example from Mozart’s K585, Menuet 2.
384
of anything, even though the technique of “pitch alteration” is used to create

them. On the contrary, each of these eightsome constructions could be, itself,
expanded or extended by any of the means discussed above. This is shown
in the annotations to Examples 579, 590, and 604, below. While it is true that
the first four bars of such an eightsome could be removed without creating a
theoretical problem, these initial foursomes cannot routinely be considered as
insertions between comma-defined phrases, inasmuch as a piece might easily
begin with a segment of this type. It may be questioned whether a foursome
repetition clause, such as found in Example 561, as annotated below, might
be considered to function, similarly, as the first half of an eightsome phrase,
when it is completed by a following comma-defined foursome.
Extensions to phrases. All of Riepel’s techniques of phrase prolon-
gation discussed so far involve expansions from within. But there are several
techniques illustrated, if not named, in his treatise that can lengthen a phrase
by adding to its beginning or ending. In addition to doubling of cadences and
commas, there are also extensions that follow the last punctuation of a phrase
or precede its first metrical unit.
A simple case of phrase extension involves preceding its first metrical
unit with what Budday calls a “bass leader” (Baß-Vorspann),30 as shown in
Example 185.31
It would be logical to apply the term “leader” also to any accompaniment

figure heard in preparation for a theme, although Riepel does not illustrate
this common occurrence.
30
This useful term is coined by Budday, Grundlangen musikalischer Formen, 131, n. 48. Origi-
nally, the term Vorspann referred to an additional pair of horses harnessed ahead of the usual
pairs for extra pulling power. The term was then taken over in reference to an extra locomotive
added to the front of a train in preparation for an ascent, e.g., to a mountain pass. But it may be
the term Filmvorspann that inspired Budday’s coinage. This refers to the film’s opening credits,
especially if superimposed over actual footage. It is not an introduction, properly speaking, but a
specialized part of the film’s narrative, normally preceding the beginning of the action.
31
This example appears in Riepel’s first chapter (86 [49]), before he begins to make the dis-
tinction between a caesura and a comma. According to his later presentation, this would be
385
Whereas a bass or accompaniment “leader” might not be considered

part of the melody, Example 578 shows initial melodic activity that clearly
belongs to the following phrase but just as clearly does not count as its first
metrical unit. Example 578, in fact, begins with a modification of the second
comma-defined eightsome shown in Example 576, as annotated below.
Example 578 is clearly intended to illustrate the beginning of a movement,

as indicated by the presence of a tempo marking; thus, the first three quarter
notes cannot be considered as an insertion between phrases. Neither Riepel
nor Koch have a name for this very common symphonic gesture, whose ori-
gin lies in the opening triple-hammer-stroke cliché of the Vivaldian concerto
style. Other types of brief opening gesture unrelated to the triple hammer-
stroke are also used in eighteenth-century symphonies for the same purpose.
Riemann’s term for all of these is Vorhang,32 probably chosen to parallel
Koch’s terms Überhang (“overhang”) and Anhang (“appendix”) for certain
types of material added to the end of a melodic segment.33 However, the
word Vorhang normally refers to a theatrical curtain, which could lead to a
misunderstanding of the intended character and significance of this initial
gesture and its relation to that which follows.34
________________
an example of a comma-defined eightsome that begins with a caesura-defined foursome. The
example is intended to show how the concluding note of a segment, as well as every punctua-
tion within it, might fall on the first beat in common time, rather than the third quarter note,
as would be normal.
32
Hugo Riemann, Grosse Kompositionslehre, III (Stuttgart: Spemann, 1913), 133.
33
Koch, Introductory Essay on Composition, trans. Baker, Index, under the English-language
terms cited. By Überhang (“overhang”) Koch means a terminal extension that merely repeats
the concluding harmony of a phrase. By Anhang (“appendix”) he intends a terminal extension
that employs two or more different chords. Riepel’s prolongation technique of doubling cadenc-
es produces a major type of appendix, in Koch’s terms, although there are other types, as well.
34
As, for example, in Eugene K. Wolf, “On the Origins of the Mannheim Symphonic Style,”
Studies in Musicology in Honor of Otto E. Albrecht: A Collection of Essays by His Colleagues
386
Exactly the same triple hammer-stroke can be used to extend the

concluding punctuation of a segment, as happens at the end of Example 576.
In this case, Koch’s term Überhang (“overhang”) is exactly appropriate. As
an extension, such an overhang does not affect the count of the metrical units
comprising the basic foursome. Example 604, annotated below, concludes
with a rhythmically animated version of this type of overhang.
Example 199 shows some typical rhythmic variants of an overhang, of which

the fourth is the triple hammer-stroke.
The main features of Joseph Riepel’s theory of rhythmopoeïa can

be usefully illuminated by analytical annotations of his melodic outlines of
complete symphony movements. These outlines are repeated here with the
addition of my own annotations, consisting of:
and Former Students at the University of Pennsylvania, ed. John Walter Hill (Kassel: Bären-
reiter, 1980), 216; and Wolf, The Symphonies of Johann Stamitz, 162, n. 46.
387
• The numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4, with primes and multiple primes, to identify the
essential metrical units of the underlying comma- or cadence-defined
foursomes, together with their variants and replacements,
• The annotation 4 = 1 or 4 = (the first unit of some other construction), to
identify instances of cutting away, or elision.
• A verbal and symbolic marking of all commas and cadences,
• Words identifying means of expansion, extension, or prolongation discussed
in Riepel’s first two chapters
388
Example 561 principally illustrates insertions between comma- and cadence-

defined foursomes. In each of the two parts of the movement, one foursome
is preceded by a repetition clause, which could be considered to initiate
an eightsome phrase that is completed by the following comma-defined
foursome, as explained above.
389
Most of the prolongation in Example 576 is created by the addition of comma-

defined phrases not found in Example 561. Example 576 also features several
comma-defined eightsomes initiated by caesura-defined foursomes, to which
category might be added the four similar instances in which a repetition-
clause foursome is completed by a regular comma-defined foursome. Later,
in Example 589 (269 [76]), Riepel’s Discantist specifically recognizes the
390
first measure of Example 576 as material that the supposedly anonymous

composer “repeats constantly with pitch alterations” (Tonwechselungen).
This example also includes three instances of elision created by “cutting
away,” indicated by 4 =. In the commentary associated with this example
(259–260 [70]), Riepel’s Discantist admits that he added a four-bar insertion
at letter R, which could have been omitted. Actually, the four measures at
letter R form an insertion only with respect to the shorter version of the same
material shown in Example 561; they do not constitute an insertion between
or within comma-defined segments, as they comprise a regular foursome and
its repetition, each punctuated by a changing comma. The last measure of this
example illustrates the type of extension that Koch would call an “overhang,”
as discussed above.35
35
Koch, Introductory Essay on Composition, 24, 27, 40, 82–83, 149.
391
Example 579, cont.
392
393
The commentary on Example 579, which Riepel provides through the

ensuing dialogue (264–266 [74–75], focuses mainly on modulation and
very little on techniques of expansion. What we may find remarkable in this
example, on the other hand, is that so many of its measures do not belong
to any comma- or cadence-defined segment or expanded foursome but
rather to insertions between such phrases, especially insertions of repetition
clauses varied through pitch alteration. Here, Riepel employs the exact
clauses that he illustrated in Example 589 (269 [76]), which, he says, the
composer “repeats constantly with pitch alterations.” When such repetition
clauses occur within comma-defined phrases, they are always limited to
a single repetition, but between phrases they form the basis of somewhat
unpredictable tonal excursions in which regular phrase rhythm is disrupted.
Example 590, however, returns to a more familiar and controlled approach:
394
395
Example 590, cont.
396
What makes Example 590 seem more controlled is the number of measures
contained within comma- or cadence-defined phrases, the nearly total
restriction of repetition to the internal expansion of such phrases, and the
nearly exclusive use of sequences as insertions between such phrases. The
third movement of this example abundantly illustrates repetition of metrical
units, especially units 2 and 3, within phrases.
397
Example 604, cont.
398
399
Example 604, cont.
Example 604, like Example 579, is expanded principally by the insertion of

repetition clauses, varied through pitch alteration, between comma- or ca-
dence-defined phrases. These repetition clauses include those marked by the
sign ✠, which refers to the Discantist’s remark, “I find three whole or com-
mon measures in succession. This happens by means of repetition or pitch
alteration.” I interpret that to signal a change to alla-breve style, in which a
whole common-time measure forms the basic metrical unit, and repetition
with pitch alteration that creates a clause. The repetition clauses not marked
with the sign ✠ are understood to be set in normal (compound) common
time, in which each metrical unit equals a half-measure. The comma- or ca-
dence-defined phrases, themselves, are either unexpanded or are prolonged
through varied repetition.
A few very general conclusions may be offered. Although Riepel,
communicating through his Preceptor and Discantist, does not offer a com-
plete analysis of or even a detailed commentary on his musical examples,
it is not difficult to supply what is lacking. Using the concepts, vocabulary,
and symbols provided by the first two chapters of Riepel’s treatise, one may
account for every measure in these examples. In doing so, it becomes clear
that comma- and cadence-defined phrases are internally expanded from their
irreducible form, the often hypothetical foursome or eightsome, principally
by two means: internal repetition, with or without variation or elision, and
internal elaboration by means of “pitch alteration.” But expansion of entire
movements, or of other extended examples that consist of several phrases,
makes more frequent use of insertion between comma- or cadence-defined
segments. Although strict melodic-harmonic sequences and sequential har-
monic progressions without rhythmically repetitive melodic sequences are
found, Riepel’s full-movement examples tend to favor insertions of repetition
400
clauses varied by means of pitch alteration. This places his extended exam-
ples generally within the mid-eighteenth-century Galant style category that
stands between the late-Baroque, with its Fortspinnungstypus movements in
which regular melodic-harmonic sequences are typically inserted between
comma- or cadence-defined phrases, and the Classical style in which nearly
all expansion takes places within, and not between, such phrases. Remark-
ably, however, analytical tools based on Riepel’s theory work quite well for
analyzing music of all three style categories, as I hope will become clear in
the demonstrations offered in the following two essays.
Mid-Eighteenth-Century Berlin Orchestral Repertoire

Collected in Dresden:
The Origin of and Context for Joseph Riepel’s Theories36
Joseph Riepel begins his Grundregeln zur Tonordnung insgemein of 1755,

the second volume of his Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen Setzkunst, with
an exchange of messages. First comes a “Report of a Friend to the Author,”
the “friend” being the unnamed dedicatee of the first volume, who had ad-
dressed Riepel as “brother.” This friend or brother was, in all likelihood,
Riepel himself, inasmuch as he signs himself “Leiper,” which is an anagram
for “Riepel.” “Leiper,” the “friend” and “brother” now writes, “In this con-
nection, it astonishes me that you [Riepel, the author] have addressed your
dedication just to me [“Leiper,” the “friend” and “brother,” i.e., Riepel’s
alter ego]. After all, you confided in me that for the most part you owe your
understanding of the art of notes to learned Dresden, exactly where you
had the good fortune to hear many audible musical beauties for five years.
Why have you not, therefore, dedicated your work out of gratitude to the
great master of that place or to one of his colleagues?” (141 [i]). Riepel
replies, “As for Dresden, you are entirely correct, for there I got to exam-
ine many masterpieces from Berlin at that time, since my limited purse,
alas, did not allow me anything more” (141 [ii]). I propose that the “great
36
This chapter is adapted from my essay “Joseph Riepel’s Music Theory in Connection with
the Music of Pisendel and His Students,” Johann Georg Pisendel–Studien zur Leben und
Werk: Bericht über das Internationale Symposium vom 23. bis 25. Mai 2005 in Dresden, ed.
Ortrun Landmann, Hans-Günter Ottenberg, and Wolfgang Mende, Dresdner Beiträge zur
Musikforschung, 3 (Hildeshiem: Georg Olms Verlag, 2010), 189–213.
401
master” of Dresden, to whom Riepel might have dedicated his treatise, was
Johann Georg Pisendel (1709‒1786), the leader of the Dresden court orchestra,
and that the “masterpieces from Berlin” that Riepel examined with so much
profit during his stay in Dresden were the concertos and symphonies of four
of Pisendel’s former students who were employed at the Prussian court during
the time of Riepel’s Dresden sojourn: Carl Heinrich Graun (1703/04‒1759),
Johann Gottlieb Graun (1702/3‒1771), Franz Benda (1709‒1786), and Johann
Joachim Quantz (1697‒1773). Concertos and symphonies by these composers
were collected by Pisendel, and they are still preserved in the music collection
of the former Saxon electoral court, many of them in Pisendel’s hand. Already
in 1935 Twittenhoff called attention to the Dresden years as crucial to Riepel’s
musical development,37 Emmerig names several composers whom Riepel en-
countered there, above all Pisendel,38 and Köpp specifies Pisendel’s collection
of Berlin orchestral music as the likely source of Riepel’s knowledge of this
repertoire.39 This chapter will focus on symphonies and concertos of Pisendel
and his former students then working in Berlin in order to relate some specific
features of Riepel’s theory of symphonic composition to corresponding char-
acteristics of these composers’ orchestral works that are preserved in Pisen-
del’s Dresden music collection. My point, of course, is that Riepel very likely
modeled his theory on these, or similar, works.
Riepel’s five years in Dresden fell between 1740 and 1745. Before
that time, he had attended a Jesuit Gymnasium in Steyr, studied philoso-
phy at the Jesuit college in Linz, spent one year at the University of Graz,
and served as valet to General Alexander Graf d’Ollone in Bosnia, Serbia,
and Slavonia. Although he had learned the violin and begun reading Fux, he
had never been able to dedicate himself entirely to music before his Dres-
den years. Afterward, Riepel spent time in Poland and Vienna, before set-
tling into the position of Kapellmeister at the court of the Prince of Thurn
und Taxis in Regensburg in 1749. It appears that Riepel began to write his
multi-volume treatise in Regensburg at that time, since the first chapter of it
was published in 1752. The conclusion seems inescapable that the study that
formed the foundation of Riepel’s treatise, especially its first two chapters,
must have taken place in Dresden, exactly as suggested in the exchange of
letters printed at the beginning of the second chapter of the work.
In all the chapters of his treatise, Riepel actually names only one mu-
sician of the Dresden court, Jan Dismas Zelenka (1679‒1745),“with which ex-
37
Twittenhoff, Die musiktheoretischen Schriften Joseph Riepels, 23‒24.
38
Emmerig, Joseph Riepel, 1709-1782, 26‒28.
39
Kai Köpp, Johann Georg Pisendel (1687–1755) und die Anfänge der neuzeitlichen Orches-
terleitung (Tutzing: Schneider, 2005), 268.
402
emplary master I enjoyed daily contact at that time in Dresden.”40 If that “daily
contact” included instruction, as Emmerig suggests,41 it may be wondered why
Riepel did not actually acknowledge Zelenka as his teacher. Riepel’s Precep-
tor does makes some remarks about “his” formal and informal compositional
studies in such a way as to hint at Riepel’s own training: “I am never ashamed
to ask others openly for the solution to a problem. It has more often hurt me
that I was not able to succeed in that. How happy I was about fourteen years
ago when a rather solid composer (a really upright and harmonious soul) ex-
plained one and another equivocal principle to me in just a few hours. Prior
to that, most [composers] had given me nothing but a mocking answer and
then sent me back with my questions, only even more confused that before.
Soon one of them asked whether I were in a position to pay for such costly
lessons. Then another [composer] advised me to give up composition entirely,
since it was too difficult for me, and everything else that such despicable brag-
garts say” (290 [90]). This passage appears in Chapter 2 of Riepel’s treatise,
which was published in 1755. So, if it refers to Riepel, himself, the explanation
from that “rather solid composer” was received about 1741, just after Riepel
moved to Dresden. Kai Köpp ably supports his reasonable view that Riepel is
referring, here, to Pisendel, who was known for his kindness and generosity to
young, aspiring composers.42 Köpp also demonstrates that Riepel’s instructions
about violin bowing, offered in the third chapter of his treatise, faithfully reflect
Pisendel’s innovations.43
Zelenka seems an unlikely teacher of the techniques explained in Ri-
epel’s treatise because Zelenka’s surviving musical works include no Italian-style
symphonies and concertos with features that could have formed the basis of the
theory expounded in Riepel’s first two chapters, although Zelenka may have in-
fluenced Riepel’s compositions for the church. In his Harmonisches Sylbenmass
of (1776),44 Riepel acknowledges the influence of the Dresden opera theater on
his conception of vocal writing; there the major figure was Johann Adolf Hasse
(1699‒1783). But it is the symphonic and concerto style taught in the first two
chapters of his Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen Setzkunst that concerns us here,
and the Pisendel circle, including, perhaps, Pisendel’s teacher, Antonio Vivaldi,
is the most likely source of this style for Riepel as he was formulating the theory
expounded in the first two chapters of his treatise.45
40
Riepel, Erläuterung der betrüglichen Tonordnung (Augsburg: Johann Jacob Lotter, 1765), 101, note.
41
Emmerig, Joseph Riepel, 31.
42
Köpp, Pisendel, 268–269.
43
Köpp, Pisendel, 269–271.
44
Riepel, Harmonisches Sylbenmaß (Regensburg: Perile, 1776).
45
Happily, Köpp and I came to the same conclusion about this independently. See Köpp, Pisen-
del, 269–271, 370–371, 387, 423.
403
Although Riepel’s theory of symphonic composition is built upon

the concept of the Absatz (“comma” or “comma-defined segment”), the pre-
dictable symmetry of the foursome, which Riepel uses to explain the Absatz,
is notably absent from his extended musical examples, particularly those that
take the form of complete movements. Rather, it is precisely the techniques
for prolonging movements that give Riepel’s extended examples their char-
acteristic style. These include increasing the number of comma- and cadence-
defined segments by establishing subordinate key areas, following the com-
monplace outlines reflected in Riepel’s chord/key hierarchy, and frequent
repetition of those segments, with or without variation or interval distortion
(“pitch alteration”). Even more particularly, these prolongation techniques
involve expanding comma-defined segments and filling in between them.
As established in the previous chapter, prominent among these expansion
techniques are frequent and recurring internal repetition of one, two, or three
units of a foursome, often with elision and even more often varied by embel-
lishment and by “pitch alteration.” Insertions between comma-defined seg-
ments tend to be extended even further through exaggerated use of the same
techniques of repetition, variation, elaboration, and distortion, while exact
melodic-harmonic sequences, typical of late-Baroque Fortspinnungstypus
construction, are far less common. Riepel’s Examples 561, 576, 579, 590,
and 604, annotated and analyzed in the previous chapter, provide abundant
examples of these features.
Sufficient models for movements of the type and complexity of these
five examples are easily found within Pisendel’s Dresden collection of sym-
phonies and concertos by Pisendel, himself, Quantz, Benda, and the Graun
brothers. Here, for example, is the melody line (mostly from the solo part)
from the first movement of a violin concerto by Johann Gottlieb Graun (Ex.
731),46 copied by Pisendel for his Dresden collection. The analytical annota-
tions, added editorially, show that its structure can be readily comprehended
by Riepel’s theory and that the movement exhibits the characteristic expan-
sion techniques explained in Riepel’s first two chapters, including the un-
usual insertion of one phrase inside another (mm. 102–108).
46
D:Dlb, Mus. 2474‒O‒28, W150 according to listing by Monika Willer, Die Konzertform der
Brüder Carl Heinrich und Johann Gottlieb Graun (Frankfurt, 1995).
404
405
Example 731, cont.
406
407
Example 731, cont.
Example 732, cont.
408
Riepel’s theory shows the same affinity with a symphony in B-flat by

Franz Benda (Ex. 732),47 also copied by Pisendel for the Dresden orchestral
library. A notable aspect of that affinity is Benda’s recurring creation of in-
tricate chains of phrase elisions, which Riepel would explain as instances of
cutting away the fourth metrical unit of a comma- or cadence-segment and
replacing it with the third, second, or first metrical unit of a new phrase or
the (varied) repetition of the previous phrase, itself. These instances are all
marked with the characters “4=” in the annotation.
47
D:Dlb, Mus. 2981‒N‒4 (Cx 57), Sinfonia I-10 according to the listing by Douglas A. Lee,
Franz Benda (1709–1786): A Thematic Catalogue of His Works (New York: Pendragon Press,
1984).
409
Example 732, cont.
Example 732, cont.
410
411
Example 732, cont.
Likewise the first movement of Pisendel’s own violin concerto in E[ (Ex.

733), which includes further instances of what appear to be insertions of one
complete phrase inside another.
412
413
Example 733, cont.
414
Of course, Pisendel, Benda, and Graun did not study Riepel’s theory
before composing their symphonies and concertos. Rather, I believe that Riepel
studied the works of Pisendel, Benda, and Graun and based his theory on them.
He could have found comparable elements in other German symphonies of the
1740s, those by Johann Melchior Molter (1696‒1765), for example. In other
words, the musical models that Riepel encountered in Dresden may not have
been necessary for his theory, but they were, I think, sufficient.
The relevance of Antonio Vivaldi’s music to Riepel’s theory is a more
complicated question. Among the 116 concertos by Vivaldi found in the Dres-
den collection, there are many movements that can be analyzed satisfactorily
with Riepel’s theory, although in them the comma- or cadence-defined seg-
ments are generally overshadowed by the longer, more numerous, and multi-
farious insertions between such organized segments. The technical concepts
and vocabulary needed for an analysis of typical Vivaldi concerto Allegros
are actually found in Riepel’s last and most extreme and eccentric musical
examples (Examples 579, 590, and 602) of his second volume. Paradoxically,
therefore, Riepel’s most advanced concepts are required for an application to
the older music.
In one simple test, compatibility with Riepel’s theory of phrase and
form can be measured in symphony and concerto movements by comparing
the percentage of their measures contained within simple or expanded and
extended comma- or cadence-defined segments with the percentage of such
measures in Riepel’s extended examples. Here, for example, is a table show-
ing the percentage of measures contained within comma- or cadence-defined
segments in several of the examples shown in this and the previous chapter
and in two movements from Vivaldi concertos that represent typical extremes
of the range of variability in this respect.
415
Table 1. Proportion of metrical units contained within comma- or cadence-

defined segments
Joseph Riepel, Grundregeln zur Tonordnung insgemein (1755), Example 561 = 83%
Johann Gottieb Graun, Concerto in F, i, Example 731 = 73%
Franz Benda, Sinfonia in B[, i, Example 732 = 90%
Johann Georg Pisendel, Concerto in E[, i, Example 733 = 85%
Antonio Vivaldi, Concerto Op. 8, n. 7 (“Il piacere”), I = 42%
Antonio Vivaldi, Concerto in D dur, RV 228, I = 10%
The updated revision and expansion of Riepel’s theory by Heinrich Christoph

Koch (1782‒1793),48 which relates to a later repertoire, almost completely
abandons Riepel’s concept of insertion between comma- or cadence-defined
segments and replaces it with a variety of techniques for insertions and elabo-
rations within such segments. Nearly all of Koch’s examples, therefore, if
added to the list given above, would receive a score of 100 percent.49 Overall,
symphonic composition and theory from about 1740 to about 1790 reflects
the last stages of a style change in which the comma- or cadence-defined
segment grows from a position of weak representation, through a position of
statistical predominance, to a position of complete dominance.
However, even in the early part of the eighteenth century, quite dif-
ferent movement types can be found in one and the same work, even in the
sinfonie by Vivaldi. At one extreme, several of the sinfonie by Vivaldi that
Pisendel collected in Dresden have second and third movements that are full
of simple, unexpanded or slightly expanded four-bar comma- or cadence-de-
fined segments, or “foursomes” in Riepel’s terms (see Ex. 734). Movements
like Vivaldi’s Sinfonia in F, RV 135, iii (Example 734), may have provided
Pisendel with models of simple and regular four-bar comma- or cadence-
48
Heinrich Christoph Koch, Versuch einer Anleitung zur Composition, 3 vols. (Leipzig:
Böhme, 1782, 1787, 1793).
49
“Nearly” and not completely because Koch does demonstrate an insertion between an Ab-
satz, or “phrase” (i.e., a comma- or cadence-defined segment), and its own repetition. He
shows two examples of this, in Versuch einer Anleitung, III,221, fig. 5; and III, 222, fig. 6.
These are Examples 358 and 359 on pages 161–161 in Baker’s translation, Koch, Introduc-
tory Essay on Composition. In both examples the inserted Parenthese, or “interpolation” (in
Baker’s translation) takes the form of a fonte.
416
defined segments with which he could have taught his students, and they would
have been sufficient for the formation of Riepel’s theoretical concept of the un-
expanded or lightly expanded comma- or cadence-defined foursome (Absatz).
But the typical first movements of Vivaldi’s sinfonie and many of the
Allegro movements of his violin concertos cannot be readily analyzed in terms
of Riepel’s Absätze and their expansions. This is because they consist largely
of figuration and sequences that cannot be conveniently divided into symmetri-
cal, complementary subjects and predicates; that is to say, they cannot easily
be reduced to a core of four metrical units through a deconstructive process
417
of mentally bracketing off all forms of expansion, extension, and insertion. A

movement that begins with such figuration and sequences would have been a
very unlikely model for a theory so focused on comma- or cadence-defined
segments, as Riepel’s was. Vivaldi, Sinfonia in F, RV135, i (Ex. 735), is a
representative example of the kind of Vivaldian figuration that I have in mind.
Similar observations could be made about the sonatas, concertos, symphonies,
and capriccios by Zelenka: their most substantial movements are dominated by
figuration, sequences, and imitation. Very few simple or expanded comma- or
cadence-defined segments, as Riepel understood them, can be found there.
The second and third movements of most of Vivaldi’s sinfonie, and a

few second and third movements of his Dresden concertos, might have served
Pisendel as models of unexpanded, basic comma- or cadence-defined segments.
But the development of elaboration techniques, of expansion and extension, as
well as of principles of interrelationship and subordination, seem to have been
developed by the generations of Pisendel and his students. Of course, this de-
velopment did not take place exclusively in Dresden. As I have said, the sym-
phonies of Pisendel and his students may not have been strictly necessary for
Riepel’s theories. If they had been, then the theories would be far less broadly
valid for the early symphonic style. But the Dresden orchestral repertoire of
the early 1740s can be considered as having provided sufficient models for
Riepel’s theory. And they seem to be the actual works through which Riepel
learned an Italian-based, early-German-symphonic style. Because of that,
Riepel’s alter-ego, “friend,” or “brother” was completely justified in suggest-
ing that at least the first two volumes of the Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen
Setzkunst should have been dedicated to the “great master” of Dresden, whom
I would identify as Johann Georg Pisendel.
418
Reception: Leopold and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Over the many years in which I taught graduate students about composition
treatises of the past and their use in building our understanding of the kind
of music that they reference, one of the most common questions asked of me
was Did specific composers actually study this treatise and use its methods?
In most cases there is no certain answer to this type of question. But I have
always maintained that it is not the right question. For we should rather treat
the author of a treatise as an informant, similar to the kind that an ethnomu-
sicologist seeks out in the field: a reliable and articulate representative of a
musical culture that is not our own, an insider who can help illuminate our
outsider’s perspective.50 Although the author of a treatise outwardly sought
to help train composers, we normally use the treatise to help us hear, com-
prehend, and perform the music of the period. The value of the treatise for
us is, therefore, greater if it reflects an understanding that we find to be thor-
ough and profound but one that was also widely shared in its time. For this
reason, the most valuable endorsement of Riepel’s theory that I know of is
contained in a letter of February 4, 1754, from the very prolific symphon-
ist Franz Xaver Pokorny (1729–1794) in Mannheim to his former patron in
Regensburg, Count Philipp Karl: “I know Holzbauer, Stamitz, and Richter
quite well; they maintain the very same theory that I learned from Riepel.”51
If the treatise teaches a manner of composition that is so unusual and idio-
syncratic that its influence can easily be traced in specific works of its period,
then its value to us is generally diminished. In spite of this, I will succumb,
here, to the question that I have tried to discourage.
It is tempting to seek evidence that Riepel’s treatise was used to train
specific composers, in part, because there actually are some features in it that
are somewhat unusual and idiosyncratic, or at least that represented options
found in some varieties of common practice a bit more than in others. And
this opens the question of whether Riepel’s treatise might have influenced
the drift of style change during the second half of the eighteenth century,
50
I have elaborated upon this idea in “Cognate Music Theory,” Music in the Mirror: Reflec-
tions on the History of Music Theory and Literature for the 21st Century, ed. Andreas Giger
and Thomas J. Mathiesen, Publications of the Center for the History of Music Theory and
Literature, 3 (Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2002), 117‒141.
51
“Ich kenne den Holtzbaur, Stamitz, Richter gar zu gutt, sie hoben die nemliche Theori, was
ich beyn Ripel gelernt habe. . . .” Transcribed in Ludwig Schiedermair, “Die Blütezeit der
Öttingen-Wallerstein’schen Hofkapelle: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der deutschen Adelska-
pellen,” Sammelbände der Internationalen Musik-Gesellschaft 9 (1907–1908), 119.
419
even if only slightly. Some of these particular features have been explored
in the previous chapter, where the compositional models for Riepel’s the-
ory were sought in the music of mid-century Berlin composers who had
studied with Pisendel in Dresden. Those features and others will now be
used as partial evidence, which, when added to other considerations, sug-
gests that Leopold Mozart owned, read, and studied Riepel’s treatise and
perhaps even used some of what it contains in the early training of his son,
Wolfgang.
It is known that Leopold Mozart owned at least one volume of Jo-
seph Riepel’s Anfangsgründe, for on September 15, 1773, he wrote to his
wife, “H. Kliebnstein had 2 folio books from me, namely the Fux in Latin
and the Riepel in German.”52 By 1777, Wolfgang had direct correspon-
dence with Riepel.53 In 1778, Leopold mentioned Riepel to Wolfgang with
approval as one of the theorists whose writing Georg Vogler should be
able to incorporate into his new music periodical.54 Johann Jacob Lotter,
the Augsburg publisher of the first edition of Riepel’s Anfangsgründe zur
musicalischen Setzkunst, Chapter I, in 1752, and who brought out the only
edition of Riepel’s fourth chapter, Erläuterung der betrüglichen Tonord-
nung in 1765, also published Leopold Mozart’s Versuch einer gründlichen
Violinschule in 1756 and later produced three further editions of that book.
It is, therefore, easy to guess how and why Leopold Mozart became ac-
quainted with Riepel’s treatise. The question is When? While it is true that
Leopold fails to include Riepel among the important theorists listed in his
Violinschule of 1756, Wolfgang Budday urges the conclusion that young
Wolfgang’s first composition exercises, which Leopold entered into his
52
Leopold Mozart, Briefe und Aufzeichnungen, Gesamtausgabe, ed. Wilhelm A. Bauer and
Otto Erich Deutsch (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1962), I, 501, “H: Kliebnstein hatte 2 Bücher in Folio
von mir, nämlich den Fux lateinisch und den Riepl deutsch.”
53
Briefe und Aufzeichnungen, II, 91: “Ich muss also vermuthen, dass der Fürst [Thurn und]
Taxis schon nach Regenspurg ist, an dessen Musik=Director [Riepel] du doch einen Brief hat-
test, weil du von Dischingen gar keine Meldung mehr machest.”
54
Briefe und Aufzeichnungen, II, 374, “Vom Vogler in Mannheim ist ein Buch bekannt gemacht
worden, welches von der Pfälzischen Regierung allen meistern im Land fürs Clavier, fürs
Singen, und für die Composition vorgeschrieben ist. Das Buch muß ich sehen, ich hab schon
Commißion gegeben, solches mir zu verschreiben. gutes wird immer etwas darinne seyn, dann
die Clavier Methode konnte er aus Bachs Buche, - die Anweisung der Singmethode aus Tosi
und agricola und die anweisung zur Composition und Harmonie, aus Fux, Riepl, Marpurg,
Matheson, Spies, Scheibe, d’alembert, Rameau und einer menge anderer herausschreiben und
in ein Kürzeres Systema bringen, ein Systema, das ich schon lange im Kopf hatte; ich bin
fürwitzig, ob es mit meiner Idee übereins kommt.”
420
teaching notebook, the so-called “Nannerl Notebook,”55 beginning early in

1761, show signs of Riepel’s theoretical and practical approach.56
In support of his thesis, Budday focuses primarily on Wolfgang’s reli-
ance on the minuet as learning vehicle, his extensive use of four-bar phrases
in these dances, the number of phrases in these miniatures, and the disposition
and ordering of phrase punctuations in them, as defined by harmony and scale-
degree. It may be argued that these features are so common in mid-eighteenth-
century minuets that they cannot exclusively point to a particular treatise or mode
of instruction. Of course, were these features not present in Wolfgang’s youthful
exercises, the use of Riepel’s instructional approach could be effectively ruled
out. In my view, however, more persuasive support of Budday’s thesis is the
early and pervasive appearance, in young Wolfgang’s exercises, of exactly those
asymmetrical means of phrase expansion whose exaggerated use is suggestive
of the link between the Dresden/Berlin composers’ works and Riepel’s extended
musical examples, as explored in the previous essay. Let Example 736 stand for
many; this one also uses the fonte to begin the second part:
55
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke, IX, 27, 1, ed. Wolfgang Plath
(Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1982). In this volume, the following eighteen numbers are identified
as among the earliest compositions of W. A. Mozart: 20 (K9a) Keyboard piece in C, 1764?;
24 (K8, i) Allegro in Bb, 21.XI.1763; 25 (K6, ii) Andante in F, X.1763?; 26 (K6, Minuet I)
Minuet in C, X.1763?; 46 (K6, i) Allegro in C, 14.X.1763; 47 (K7, Minuet I) Minuet in D,
30.XI.1763; 48 (K6, Minuet II) Minuet in F, 16.VII.1762; 49 (K4) Minuet in F, 11.V.1762;
53 (K1a), mixed meters, 1761; 54 (K1b), 2/4, 1761; 55 (K1c). 2/4, 11.XII.1761; 56 (K1d),
Minuet in F, 16.XII.1761; 58 (K2) Minuet in F, I.1762; 59 (K3) Allegro in B[, 4.III.1762; 61
(K5) Minuet in F, 5.VII.1762; 62 (K1e) Minuet in G, 1764?; 63 (K1f) Minuet in C, 1764?; 64
(K9b), 2/4, 1764?
56
Budday, “Über ‘Form’ und ‘Inhalt’ in Menuetten Mozarts,” 58–89.
421
422
A more extensive range of prolongation techniques is contained in the first

movement of the solo keyboard version of Mozart’s K6, also from the Nan-
nerl Notebook, which is shown as Example 737, above. Notable here is the
use of a caesura-defined foursome as the first half of a comma-defined eight-
some, as was discussed in “Rhythmopoeïa and Melopoeïa,” in connection
with Riepel’s Example 526. Repetition clauses, plain and varied, as well as
423
monte passages, inserted between phrases, extend the movement. And the
final cadential foursome of each half is heard twice, first ending with an de-
ceptive cadence, a typical way of doubling the cadence in Riepel’s examples.
There are also several instances of complete repetitions of comma-defined
foursomes. The progression of punctuations also conforms to one of Riepel’s
recommended patterns: tonic comma, changing comma, changing comma in
the fifth, tonic comma in the fifth, cadence in the fifth // tonic comma in the
fifth, tonic comma in the fourth, tonic comma in the fifth, changing comma,
tonic comma, tonic cadence.
Example 737 contains six comma-defined eightsomes of the type
demonstrated in Riepel’s treatise, that is, initiated by a caesura-defined four-
some made up of a pair of twosomes related by pitch alteration. There is a
parallel singularity in the anonymous minuets (presumably written for his
children by Leopold Mozart) in the Nannerl Notebook: of the first sixteen
minuets, twelve contain at least one construction of this type, while each of
the other four use plain repetition instead of pitch alteration to create similar
caesura-defined foursomes. Example 738 illustrates both options.
A complete movement by Leopold Mozart (Ex. 739), from a

sonata published in a Haffner anthology at about the time the Nannerl
Notebook was being compiled (1760),57 incorporates an extended range of
expansion techniques, all of them within the purview of Riepel’s theoretical
explanations. Caesura-defined foursomes appear in three places, in two cases
with the fourth bar cut away to effect an elision with the beginning of the
complementary comma-defined foursome that follows. In this movement,
Leopold repeats single measures within comma-defined phrases with an
insistence that recalls Riepel’s Example 544, as annotated in “Rhythmopoeïa
57
Oeuvres mélées contenant VI sonates pour le clavecin de tant de plus célèbres compositeurs
. . . Partie VI (Nürnberg: Haffner, 1760).
424
and Melopoeïa.” Outside of comma-defined phrases, repetition clauses, both

unvaried and varied by pitch alteration, are used as extensively as in Riepel’s
advanced examples, but in some cases the function of the clause is to prolong
the concluding dominant harmony of a changing comma. Although Riepel’s
concept of repetition clause covers such a case, Koch later coined the term
Anhang (“appendix”)58 to include both this type of extension as well as the
type that Riepel calls “doubling cadences,” a technique that Leopold also
uses in this movement. The most important device taught in Riepel’s treatise
that is absent from this movement is the sequential passage–monte, fonte, or
ponte–immediately following the double bar. Instead, at that place Leopold
uses a version of the opening caesura-defined foursome, transposed to the
key of the fifth degree, an option that Riepel, himself, illustrates, in Example
479. Although there is nothing in Leopold’s movement that could not have
been learned from the study of certain works by contemporaneous composers,
the extent to which Leopold uses repetition varied by pitch alteration for
expansion within comma- and cadence-defined phrases in this movement
suggests, to me at least, the likelihood that he was influenced by studying the
volume(s) of Riepel’s treatise that he owned.
58
See the pages referenced under the term “appendix” in the Index to Koch, Introductory Es-
say, trans. Baker.
425
Example 739, cont.
426
427
Example 739, cont.
428
Considering Example 739 from the perspective of Riepel’s theory

reveals that about 54 percent of its metrical units are contained within com-
ma- or cadence-defined segments. This percentage is larger than those of
Riepel’s Examples 579 (34%) and 602 (48%) as well as Vivaldi’s Op. 8, no.
7 (42%) and RV228 (10%) but smaller than those of the other extended ex-
amples by Riepel and the movements by Graun, Benda, and Pisendel, shown
in my chapter “Mid-Eighteenth-Century Berlin Orchestral Repertoire Col-
lected in Dresden: The Origin of and Context for Joseph Riepel’s Theories.”
Factors affecting this figure are Leopold’s extensive use of caesura-defined
foursomes, which, although foursquare in phrasing, nevertheless stand out-
side the structure of segments defined by commas or cadences, and, on the
other hand, the composer’s frequent recourse to internal phrase expansion via
repetition of single metrical units varied through pitch alteration, which con-
tributes to the discursive, diastematic character of the music, here achieved
without the use of sequences. Such a balance between conceptually opposing
factors is typical of mid-eighteenth-century music, although the particular
balance and the means of creating it are, as is often the case, ad hoc and not
standardized.
Wolfgang’s habits of composition that I would hypothetically asso-
ciate with training possibly influenced by his father’s ownership of Riepel’s
treatise seem to have remained with Wolfgang throughout his career as com-
poser. While it is certainly true that some constructions not easily associated
with Riepel’s theory became important to his later style–I am thinking, e.g.,
of the [(4+4) + (4+4)] antecedent-and-consequent construction, with material
pattern xy,xz and comma pattern V, I (whether foursquare or asymmetrical
due to expansion)–many of his relatively mature works still fit easily into
Riepel’s theoretical matrix. The first movement of Wolfgang’s first solo key-
board sonata, K279 (Ex. 740) will illustrate my point.
When considered from the perspective of Riepel’s theory, the per-
centage of metrical units (mostly half-measures) in Example 740 that are
contained within comma-defined phrases, i.e., foursomes, whether expanded
or not, is about 51%, the same as found in our selection from in his father’s
sonata (Ex. 739) and a remarkably low figure for a composer born as late as
1756. Unusual factors affecting this calculation are, on one side, the very long
monte and fonte passages near the beginning of the second half of the move-
ment and the extended use of caesura-defined foursomes, but on the other
side the substantial insertions within the comma-defined phrases contained
in bars 24–31 and 81–92. In this movement, as in Riepel’s Example 578, the
initial metrical unit precedes the beginning of the first comma-defined four-
some, and for it I have again retained Budday’s term “leader” (Vorspann).
429
In a display of musical wit, young Mozart employs the same figure in bars
3 and 60 as an animation of the concluding metrical unit of comma-defined
foursomes, a metrical unit that serves, at the same time, as a leader that in-
troduces a repetition of the preceding foursome. This re-employment of the
“leader” as an embellishment of the phrase conclusion creates the illusion
of two elided fivesomes, although the only actual irregularity, in the view of
Riepel’s theory, is the half-bar, prefacing leader, with, of course, the “cutting
away” (Eintheilung) that elides the repeated comma-defined foursome with
the beginning of the caesura-defined foursome that follows it (mm. 5 and 62).
430
431
Example 740, cont.
432
But perhaps the most remarkable feature of Example 740, when

viewed from the perspective of Riepel’s theory, is the insertion of one
complete comma-defined foursome inside another. This happens in bars 81–
92 of the recapitulation. The theoretical background to this observation is
found in Riepel’s Example 149 (70 [39]), annotated in “Rhythmopoeïa and
Melopoeïa,” which illustrates the separation (Zertheilung) of the two halves
of a foursome by the insertion of another foursome between them. In order
to understand Example 740 in that way, we must begin with the parallel
phrase in the exposition, bars 24–30, and its predecessor in bars 22–24. The
predecessor is a regular foursome defined by its changing comma. Each of
433
its metrical units consists of a descending scalewise anacrusis leading to a

concluding downbeat. The varied repeat of this phrase is, however, interrupted
after the concluding downbeat of metrical unit 3ʹ (Ex. 740, m. 25), which is
elided with the first beat of the inserted repetition clause. If the foursome
had, instead, been completed, as its predecessor was, the result would have
appeared approximately as in Example 741.
However, Mozart interrupts this phrase by inserting a varied repetition

clause, which has the effect of prolonging the predominant harmony of ii6/V,
as shown in Example 740, mm. 25–29. When the phrase is finally concluded,
its third metrical unit is prolonged by a shift to alla-breve style, in which one
metrical unit fills an entire measure. This creates room for the I/V harmony
that transforms a potential comma into an actual cadence and delays the con-
clusion of the phrase until the downbeat of bar 31 in Example 740. Turning,
then, to the recapitulation of this phrase in bars 81–92 of Example 740, we
see that the repetition clause that had interrupted the phrase after the third
metrical unit in the exposition is, itself, preceded by a different varied repeti-
tion clause (mm. 82–84) and an entire changing-comma-defined foursome
(mm. 84–86). The phrase finally ends with the tonic cadence in bar 92.
Riepel’s Preceptor describes the divided foursome in his Example
149 as “almost too strange” (70 [39]), and one is tempted to say the same of
Mozart’s divided phrases in Example 740. In fact, I wonder if such a strange
phrase division would have occurred to him were it not for his exposure to
Riepel’s treatise. I cannot say whether or to what extent such a strange phrase
division can be found in the works of eighteenth-century composers who were
not exposed to Riepel’s theory, but it can be seen through lens of Riepel’s the-
ory elsewhere in Mozart’s music. We will discuss some examples of it.
The first movement of Mozart’s Violin Sonata in C, K303, Example
742, begins with a caesura-defined foursome, after which a comma-defined
foursome in alla-breve style is interrupted by the insertion of a complete
common-time foursome. The alla-breve foursome then concludes in bar
10, as shown in Example 742. To make this even clearer, Example 742 also
shows the same passage with the two phrases disentangled. Note that, in the
434
disentangled version, Mozart’s harmony has been slightly altered in bar 6 in

order to create a regular comma on beat 3. In Mozart’s original, the tonic C in
the bass arrives on the first beat of bar 8, with the dominant arpeggio above,
outlining a double appoggiatura that resolves on beat 3. This has the effect of
disguising the shift to compound common time that has taken place.
In the first movement of Mozart’s Sonata in B[, K333, Example 743,

a comma-defined foursome in the closing of the exposition begins with a re-
peat of its first two bars but is then interrupted by a complete comma-defined
foursome before it concludes in bar 50. The underlying structure of this pas-
sage is disguised, somewhat, by the insertion of a fonte between the inserted
435
foursome and the conclusion of the previous phrase. The concluding melody
note of the inserted phrase is also cut away to accommodate a rhythmic de-
sign taken up by the fonte. But the underlying harmony makes the definition
of the structure, as shown in the annotations in Example 743, clear enough.
To place the analysis into greater relief, a disentanglement is shown in the
second part of Example 743, where expansion by repetition and octave dis-
placement have been removed.
Our final example of this strange sort of phrase division comes from
the recapitulation of the closing passage in the first movement of Mozart’s
Piano Concerto in A, K488. For reference, the original, considerably expand-
ed passage as it occurs toward the end of the first solo period is shown in
Example 744.
436
During the recapitulation of this passage, shown in Example 745, Mozart in-
terrupts the cadential phrase just short of its conclusion, although the elabora-
tion of the third metrical unit, in bars 259 and 260 makes the tonic conclusion
seem just a bit less inevitable. The interruption is effected by the insertion of
a distinctive thematic phrase, which had been introduced as a kind of bridge
between the concluding tutti of the exposition and the beginning of the de-
velopmental second solo period of the movement. As in its first presentation,
also here this thematic phrase takes the form of an expanded, comma-defined
437
foursome. After a varied and expanded repetition of this phrase, the cadential
phrase that had been interrupted is allowed to conclude, albeit with the har-
monic function of metrical unit number 3 distributed over several measures
before the expected tonic conclusion of the cadence is heard in bar 283.
438
439
All composers of Mozart’s generation expanded their phrases from

within, which is one reason why Riepel’s theory of phrase structure has broad
application. I do have the impression, however, that W. A. Mozart used in-
ternal expansion to a greater extent and in more elaborate forms than was
typical of his period. And the insertion of one complete phrase within another
is an extreme type of this expansion, which may be a result of his early expo-
sure to Riepel’s theory.
440
Reception: Heinrich Christoph Koch, Other
Contemporaneous Writers, and Riepel’s Students
Virtually every substantial modern commentary on the Versuch einer Anleitung

zur Composition (1782–1793) by Heinrich Christoph Koch (1749–1816) makes
some mention of Joseph Riepel (1709–1782) as at least one of Koch’s prede-
cessors, and some present Riepel’s theory of musical form and phrase structure
as a basis or model for certain aspects of Koch’s. But none to my knowledge
adequately describes the full extent of Koch’s debt to Riepel or how, exactly,
Koch refines and updates Riepel’s approach. Koch, himself, seems almost to
conceal this. For while crediting Riepel with being the first to discuss melodic
divisions, his omission of other specifics of indebtedness appears to place an
implicit limit on the influence of the earlier writing on his own:
Here I find myself compelled to show the reasons why I

did not treat the length and the ending of [melodic] segments as two
distinct subjects in two different sections. Riepel was the first (and is
also the only theorist yet known to me) who has treated these matters
in detail. The first chapter of his Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen
Setzkunst concerns metric order, or the relationship of the lengths of
melodic sections. The three following chapters, on the other hand,
are concerned with tonal order, that is, the relationship of melodic
segments with respect to their endings. And these four chapters
spread the first rays of light over these matters, which at that time
were, considered theoretically, entirely hidden in darkness.59
Yet Koch actually does follow this double treatment of musical segments,
although he intermixes discussions of the relationship of melodic sections as
regards pitch and harmony into both treatments. And this is only one among
many general and specific ways in which Koch depends upon Riepel. Really,
Koch’s entire conceptual framework as regards form and phrase structure is
59
Koch, Versuch, II, 11: “Hier sehe ich mich genöthigt die Gründe anzuzeigen, warum ich
den Umfang und die Endigung der Theile nicht als zwey besondere Gegenstände in zwey
verschiedenen Abschnitten behandelt habe. Riepel war der erste (und ist auch der mir bisher
einzige bekannte Theorist) der diese Gegenstände ausführlich behandelt hat. Das erste Kapitel
seiner Anfangsgründe zur musikalischen Setzkunst enthält die Tactordnung, oder das Verhält-
niß des Umfanges der Theile der Melodie; in den drey folgenden Kapiteln hingegen ist die
Tonordnung, das ist, das Verhältniß der Theile der Melodie in Ansehung ihrer Endigungen ab-
gehandelt, und diese vier Kapitel verbreiteten über diese Gegenstände, die damals theoretisch
betrachtet noch ganz in Dunkelheit gehüllt waren, die ersten Strahlen des Lichts.”
441
based on Riepel’s. This is reflected in the technical vocabulary that he takes

over from the earlier writer, which includes the key terms Absatz, Abschnitt,
Ausdehnung, Cadenz, Einschaltung (= Einschiebsel), einschieben, Ein-
schnitt, Eintheilung, (un)endlich, Erweiterung, Glied, Grundabsatz, Haupt-
tonart, Quintabsatz, Tonordnung, verlangen, Vierer (Dreier, Fünfer, Sechser,
etc.), (un)vollkomme.
Like Riepel, Koch places in concept of the Absatz at the center of his
theory. But while Riepel used this term primarily for the punctuation (comma)
and only occasionally for the segment punctuated (comma-defined segment or
foursome), Koch consistently uses Absatz to mean “phrase,” i.e., the segment
rather than its punctuation. Koch locates the punctuation of the phrase at the
Cäsur (“caesura” or “caesura note”), which, following Riepel, Koch marks
with a square (but always empty) in his musical examples. Koch distinguishes
the defining punctuations of the Grundabsatz, Quintabsatz (= Riepel’s Än-
derungsabsatz), and Schlusssatz (= Riepel’s Cadenz) exactly as Riepel does.
Like Riepel, Koch declares that these punctuations, and only these, may define
phrases in any key to which the composer modulates, and like his predeces-
sor, Koch establishes rules and norms for the succession of phrases according
to their punctuation types, e.g., the prohibition against two fifth- (changing-)
phrases in succession, except in cases of repetition, with or without variation.
Following Riepel, Koch builds his phrase architecture on the founda-
tion of the foursome, making the same distinctions between compound meter
(e.g., common time) and alla-breve style as his predecessor, and allowing al-
ternations and mixtures of the two, as Riepel does. Because Koch consistently
uses Absatz to mean “phrase” rather than “phrase punctuation,” he focuses more
attention on the necessary internal features that help to define it: the subject and
the predicate. These reciprocally related halves of the phrase are required for its
sense of completion and, hence, for the authentication of its concluding phrase
punctuation. This is really where Koch’s theory begins. But this, too, is taken
from Riepel. It originates in Riepel’s discussion of the parallels between phrase
structure and logic, where he actually introduces the subject and predicate as
the defining components of the phrase (see 233 [52], and the discussion of this
in my chapter “Rhythmopoeïa and Melopoeïa”).
Another corollary of Koch’s focus on segments rather than on punc-
tuations is that he creates names and definitions for larger and smaller seg-
ments, which he arranges in a hierarchy. Thus, a phrase may be divided into
“incises” (Riepel’s “caesuras”) and may be combined with other phrases to
form a “period” (Riepel’s “cadence”), which, in turn, are combined to form
a part. These divisions and combinations are illustrated in many of Riepel’s
musical examples, and their relationship is explored briefly in his above-
442
Reception: Heinrich Christoph Koch
mentioned treatment of parallels between phrase structure and logic. But Ri-
epel does not discuss them as thoroughly in terms of conventions and rules
governing divisions, combinations, successions, and functions as Koch does.
Like Riepel, Koch establishes the characteristics of the basic four-
some largely as a platform for his exploration of the expanded and extended
phrase. Here, too, his enumerated means of internal expansion are based on
Riepel’s: repetition of one or more metrical units, with or without variations
in key, harmony, scale-degree, ornamentation, singly or in combination; con-
tinuation or elaboration of homogenous, patterned, or mixed figures; inser-
tion of extraneous material (parenthesis). Whereas Riepel demonstrates the
insertion of material both within a phrase and between phrases, Koch dis-
cusses only insertions and expansions within phrases. The only exception to
this is found in §70 of Koch’s Volume III, in which a non-phrase insertion
between a phrase and its repetition is illustrated. This means that practically
everything in a musical composition is brought into the framework of the
phrase, according to Koch’s theory. There is no place in it for the monte,
fonte, or ponte or other types and vestiges of Fortspinnung between actual
phrases. This, of course, reflects the fundamental change in musical style that
took place over the course of the eighteenth century. Whereas Riepel’s theory
can accommodate instances or vestiges of the late Baroque style, Koch’s can-
not. But inasmuch as even mature works of W. A. Mozart contain instances
of insertion between phrases, Koch’s exclusion of them from consideration
makes his theory seem somewhat rigid when compared with Riepel’s.
As extensions to the end of basic phrases, Koch gives the name “over-
hang” (Überhang) to Riepel’s illustrated but unnamed technique of prolonging
the concluding harmony of a phrase punctuation, and Koch coins the term “ap-
pendix” (Anhang) for a category that extends Riepel’s technique of doubling
cadences or commas through the further possibility of introducing a new con-
cluding harmony in the phrase extension. In fact, several of Koch’s extended
examples illustrate appendices that are longer than the main body of the period
to which they are attached. Koch coins the term “subsidiary period” (Neben-
period) to designate such extended appendices, and he employs this term to
describe the second main tutti in the standard concerto first-movement form.
Like Riepel, Koch illustrates the possibility of a non-phrase preface
to the first phrase of a work, movement, or part, and like Riepel, Koch of-
fers no name for this. His two examples of it come at the end of Volume III,
§90, where a regular phrase is preceded by a two-bar figure with static, tonic
harmony, resembling in that respect an “overhang.” I have proposed to call
this sort of preface a “leader” (Vorspann), following Budday, rather than a
Vorhang (Riemann), which can mean “curtain” in English.
443
Following Riepel, Koch demonstrates how the composer may re-

place the final metrical unit of one phrase with the first metrical unit of the
succeeding phrase, if the same harmony underlies both. He places this in
a category of techniques that create what he calls a “compound phrase”
(zusammen geschobenen Satz). A compound phrase may also be created by
composing a phrase with an inconclusive punctuation followed by another
phrase with a conclusive punctuation of the same category, a technique that
Riepel demonstrates but does not name. Koch shows that a compound phrase
may also be created by inserting one complete phrase inside another, a tech-
nique demonstrated by Riepel, as I have emphasized in two of my preceding
chapters. Only Koch’s compounding technique of shuffling the measures of
two phrases together has no precedent in Riepel’s treatise, as far as I have
been able to discover.
Major additions to Riepel’s exposition can be found in the pages
and sections that Koch devotes to the formal procedures typical of various
instrumental and vocal genres, in which he considers patterns of thematic re-
currence in addition to successions of phrases defined by their punctuations.
Although here, too, Koch’s discussion has precedents in Riepel’s musical
examples, his direct commentary has no real parallel in the earlier treatise.
This, of course, reflects the growing emphasis on thematic content and on
standardized formal designs that emerged during the several decades separat-
ing the publication of these two works.
As for the reception of Riepel’s theory in the publications of other
writers contemporaneous with Riepel and Koch, I will confine myself to
translated excerpts. The original language for most can be found on the
Internet, principally from Google Books.
Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg, Historische-kritische Beyträge zur Auf-

nahme der Musik, I (Berlin: Schütz, 1754), 340–343: The title of the work
already says that nothing but the truths that are needed in practice should
be taught in it. The skillful writer begins it with the theory of metric order.
He treats this so thoroughly and so clearly through conversation that all true
practitioners, whose feelings have not yet been spoiled by various excesses,
are eager to follow this book. In the first 21 pages Mr. Riepel shows how to
make a good minuet. I say a good minuet because there is no art in making
a bad one. As easy as the writing of such a little dance piece seems to be, it
is here proven very reasonably indeed, that such dance pieces, when they
are written well, are not shaken out of one’s sleeve. It is not just a minuet,
although the name “minuet” is written above it. The terms of art “twosome,”
“threesome,” “foursome,” “fivesome,” “sixsome,” “sevensome,” “eight-
444
some,” “ninesome,” etc., which the author Germanizes from the previously
used Latin words “binarius,” “ternarius,” etc., are just as comfortable as good
German as they will sound strange to some ears. On page 15 one clearly sees
that the author is not satisfied with the word “trio,” with which the second in
a sequence of two or three minuets is customarily designated. We are com-
pletely of his opinion. There is nothing more amusing than finding the word
“trio” above a two-voice minuet. And even if the second minuet had three
voices, in fact, is it not still always better to call the pieces in a series Minuet
1, Minuet 2, etc.? I am surprised that many skillful musicians can still follow
this common oboist’s sloppiness. On page 21 the illustrative instruction about
metric order begins. It extends equally to all types of pieces in all types of
meters. The division of a foursome, the insertion or repetition of a measure,
the improvement of a second threesome by following it immediately with a
foursome, the separation of a twosome, the division of a single measure by
means of suppression, the decoration of a cadence, the awkward confusion
of a meter, etc., are matters about which the author shares his thoughts very
concisely, and these are very thoroughly explained in the most lively manner
with examples for and against. The second chapter, with which Mr. Riepel
will continue this work, is to deal with tonal order. We are assured that we
will find the good feeling and good taste of the author of the theory of metric
order no less therein. Books of this kind deserve to be in the hands of every
practicing composer without exception, and to be read day and night. There
are no empty rationalizations and quibbling; there are truths, without the ex-
act observation of which no one can claim the title of true composer.
Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg, Historische-kritische Beyträge zur

Aufnahme der Musik, II (Berlin: Lange, 1756), 514–521:
In the third number, we promised to give the reader a detailed report
on this work, which is written with diligence and insight and very useful to
all practitioners. Here we keep our word.
Page 2, ff. The author makes some basic remarks about the incorrect
naming of the chromatic half-tones, as some musicians mix up D sharp
with E flat, G sharp with A flat, and so on. This abuse seems to have come
to an end by now, but others are still found, which should be abolished by
all means. This consists in the fact that while, following the practice of the
Latins, the first seven letters of the alphabet, alone, serve to name the notes
of our scales, an eighth letter has been added, namely “h,” which is used in
place of “b,” which “b” has a very different meaning, namely, the designation
of the chromatic half-tone below the so-called “h.” This is no doubt wrong,
445
and many more years will undoubtedly elapse before various music masters
are made to understand and to be moved to teach their students differently.
However, if the “b” is to be restored to its ancient right and the “h” is to be
banned, the term “his” [b sharp] will have changed. Namely, as soon as the
present-day “”h” is again called “b,” the chromatic half-tone below it, the
present-day “b,” must be called b flat, and the present-day “his” must be called
b sharp. Only then would the designation of our scale tones be undoubtedly
correct. What the words “c dur,” “d dur,” etc., mean where, in some places,
they designate c sharp, d sharp, etc., and where “ces” and “des” are called
“c mol” “b mol” etc., I no longer know, since various foreigners name their
chromatic half-tones in similar fashion. Thus, the French call “cis” “ut dieze”
and “ut b-mol” and “dis” as “re dieze,” and “des” as “b-mol,” etc. But how
hard is it for a beginner in the vocal arts when he sings the alphabet, or, as
the French say, solfeges, and must pronounce “c ut” and remember, however,
to sing a c sharp? Because he cannot express c ut dieze or c sharp in singing.
For these reasons it seems clear to me that the naming of the chromatic half-
tones with syllables “is” and “es” is not as comfortable. I do not speak of
the custom of calling, at the same time, the keys with the major third “hard”
keys and those with the minor third “soft” keys. In brief, what is very clearly
meant by the word “Es” is “e minor” and this meaning presents not a little
difficulty to the understanding.
Page 6. The author explains the harmonic intervals as
Three kinds of seconds: minor, major, and augmented

Three kinds of thirds: diminished, minor, and major
Three kinds of fourths: diminished, perfect, and augmented
Three kinds of fifths: diminished, perfect, and augmented
Three kinds of sixths: minor, major, and augmented
Three kinds of sevenths: diminished, minor, and major
Because he emphasizes the old, pure harmony, he wants to admit of

no diminished third, but rather in a melody he suggests that it is better to use
the inversion-derived augmented sixth.
Pages 10–11. The ancients, with their solmization and their mutations,
and the nomenclature of the diatonic scales derived from them, which is still
used by many foreigners, are explained. In doing this, the author does no
small service to those who want to get acquainted with the writings of the
Latins and the Italians. Here we will write the names of the scale tones:
446
For the Latins. For the Italians. For the French.
A. la mi re. A. la re. A. mi la.
B. fa mi. B. fa mi. B. fa si.
C. sol fa ut. C. sol ut. C. sol ut.
D. la sol re. D. la sol. D. la re.
E. la mi. E. la mi. E. si mi.
F. fa ut. F. fa ut. F. ut fa.
G. sol re ut. G. sol re. G. re sol

Pages 17–18. Mr. Riepel scoffs at the opinion of several elders who
held that every key has a different special power to arouse the emotions.
Page 20 ff. contains much that is curious about temperament. The
theory of ratios of notes is very clearly demonstrated by a young violinist, in
the absence of a monochord by other means.
Page 25 ff. The art of displacement or permutation, so useful for the
invention of a phrase, is treated as practically and exactly with respect to the
variations used as nowhere else before. The variations used in this are:
1) In the phrase to be varied, if two notes of the same pitch and duration are
found. Thus, for example, six notes, among which two are the same, can be
varied not 720 times, as the rule states, but only 360 times (page 31).
2) If many similar notes are found, one must proceed to a completely differ-
ent rule. The author explains on page 31.
After this exposition, he comes to the theory of tonal order, itself,
beginning with observations about the final note, the fifth, the third, and the
other notes which one can use, in an extraordinary manner, in place of the
first three in a musical composition. The author acknowledges two kinds of
comma (pages 36 ff.) α) the tonic comma, that is, such that has the tonic as
its chord and β) a changing comma, i.e., such, that has a change of harmony
always following. The tonic comma is divided into the conclusive and the
inconclusive. By the conclusive, he means that in which the tonic note is
reached at the end; by the inconclusive that in which the tonic note is not
reach at the end. But because this is something that cannot be explained with-
out an example, the reader must refer to the work itself. See pages 36, 37, ff.
447
Page 40. In the changing comma there is also a distinction between

conclusive and inconclusive.
Page 42. The author distinguishes between a comma and a caesura,
and shows that a twosome or segment of two measures cannot be called an
phrase, but a foursome can be so called. According to these declarations, the
same applies to the use of commas, and all sorts of examples are displayed in
order to test the hearing of his student to see how well he knows how to put
into practice the rules and observations made in this respect. But since all of
these things cannot be shown without the help of the musical notes, we want
to stop here and refer those desiring instruction to the book itself. The teach-
ing method of the authors is stimulating and able to get the attention of even
the sleepiest head. Everything is immediately explained with a number of
examples, pro and con, just as a skilled, diligent, and selfless teacher would
do orally with his students. Mr. Riepel cannot earn anything but the applause
and gratitude of teachers and students. We wish that he may soon come for-
ward with his third chapter.
Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg, Handbuch bey dem Generalbasse

und der Composition, III (Berlin: Lange, 1758), 223: One can read with
profit about rhythm and meter in the writings of the famous Mr. Riepel, in
Chapters 1 and 2.
Christian Friedrich Daniel Schubart (1739–1791), Ideen zu einer

Aesthetik der Tonkunst (Vienna: Degen, 1806), 237: Riepel, a famous musi-
cal pedagogue and very thorough church composer. The Catholics hold his
masses in high esteem, and his Instruction in Composition, published in fo-
lio, has risen, among composers, to a classical reputation. The principles in
it are unsurpassedly good, and his presentation is easy and clear, as are his
examples, chosen with insight and taste.
Johann Nikolas Forkel, Musikalischer Almanac für Deutschland

auf das Jar 1784 (Leipzig: Schwickertschen Verlag, 1784), III, 211–212:
On October 23, 1782, in Regensburg, Joseph Riepel died, Chamber Musician
of the Prince of Thurn and Taxis and one of our most deserving music schol-
ars. Of his circumstances it is known only that he enjoyed throughout many
years in Regensburg the respect of his fellow citizens as a very upright man,
and he continued to help many young musical geniuses through oral instruc-
tion and to teach thorough musical knowledge.
The writings that he left behind, which cannot be surpassed in thor-
oughness, are the following. . . .
448
Johann Nikolas Forkel, Allgemeine Literature der Musik (Leipzig,

1792), 428–29: It is a continuation of the previously published chapter on
musical composition, and carried out in a similar tone but also with the same
thoroughness. Mr. Schubarth reports, in the preface, that the deceased left
two more works in manuscript equally related to this work, which he in-
tended to publish when the favorable opportunity presented itself. Since we
have few musical writings of such thoroughness, the public would probably
lose if they did not savor the remaining chapters, and Mr. Schubarth would
indisputably do a service by publishing the same. Riepel died on October 23,
1782, in Regensburg.
Johann Adam Hiller, Wöchentliche Nachrichten und Anmerkungen

der Musikbetreffend (Leipzig: Zeitungs-Expedition, 1767–1770): I (1766),
14–15: Erläuterung der betrüglichen Tonordnung, namely the promised
fourth chapter. Again well supplied with musical examples, and discussion
presented by Joseph Riepel, Chamber Musician to His Highness The Prince
of Thurn and Taxis. Augspurg, 1765. In Folio.

The author of the three previous chapters a) [a)The first is “Rhythmopoeïa
or Metric Order,” 1754, the second edition thereof came out. The second,
“Tonal Order,” appeared in 1755. And the third of the “Tonal Order in Par-
ticular,” in 1757.] is sufficiently known. We liked his presentation, as that of
the famous Kapellmeister Fux, written in dialogue. This kind of conversa-
tion, if it consists merely in questions and answers, is not pleasing to many
readers, and, in fact, these books often have the defect of very long questions
with very short answers, or the answers simply restate the questions. But the
author did not make this error, as these are real conversations in which what
the student says is just as interesting as what the teacher adds. There is no
doubt that this kind of conversation is more lively and entertaining, and, if
both speakers fall into a bit of excess from time to time, the author treats it
with suitable humor, so that no reader will be put to sleep because of the most
profound and serious musical considerations. In this respect, the author even
allows some deviation from pure German orthography with the inclusion of
some provincial dialect. A strict systematic order should not be sought here,
as Mr. Riepel thinks it unnecessary to lead his apprentice in the doctrine of
the musical task master, whom he calls the drawing-compass harmonist. In
order not to tire his students, or rather his readers, he often jumps from one
subject to another, which, in another book might be found in another chapter
very widely separated, but is found, here, in just the right place. In short, ev-
erything is arranged and reveals the insights of a man who enters very deeply
449
into the essence of his art. And although not everything in composition so
far has been exactly vague, here it has been brought under complete control
through the efforts of the author, who, as he says in various places, wishes
to pose as no legislator, so that we have him to thank that we know how to
find our way in many things of this sort, such as, for example, the theory of
rhythm, of meter, and of segments. To be sure, he somewhat opposes the
opinions of other famous men in one and another point: but to an inquiring
music-lover it can be something other than uncomfortable to oppose differ-
ent opinions against each other and to choose the best among them or to see
that, in the end, they all amount to the same thing. If we were to speak our
minds about one or another [opinion] in the writing of our author, we would
declare, for example, that the art of permutations put forward on page 25 of
the second part, is indeed not entirely unnecessary, but it is not advisable for
an aspiring composer to rely on it as a convenient means of invention. Perhaps
it can be seen as more useful to elicit some new figures or passages, as on
page 101 of the fourth part. Mr. Bach and Mr. Kirnberger in Berlin have also
invented a few musical tricks with the aid of the same thing, the one, in mak-
ing counterpoint, the other in composing minuets and polonaises with dice.
Something of this can be seen in Mr. Marpurg’s Musikalische Beiträge in the
first installment of the third volume, where one will also find the arithmetic key.
The art of combinations on page 57 of the third part seems to us, in fact, more
interesting, and one can not deny that the author has very ingeniously shown
the use of the resulting chords in examples. That is what we have deemed
necessary to say overall in brief about the very useful writings by Mr. Riepel.
Whoever owns them already knows that far more that is good is contained in
them than we would have room to mention here. The rest follows in the future.
III/l (1768), 12
Another [author] who, in spite of the language, will not please all
readers is Riepel, who has now published the fifth part or chapter under the
title Foundations of Musical Composition. The work is a bit prolix, and that
is, perhaps, the only thing that could be brought against it with reason. His
style of writing, with his kind of dialogue, will be well known, and the par-
ticular humor of the author makes the time pass not slowly, in spite of his
prolixity. One finds in him a man who thoroughly understands the essence
of composition, who seeks to remove everything superfluous about it, who
judges certain things worthy of special consideration while others touched on
only lightly, and who has, up until now, successfully written down the not-dry
rules, leaving the reader free to apply them well or poorly but showing how
they must be applied with the most honorable diligence of a patient teacher.
450
In order to achieve the intention of the upright man, he has always chosen the
most comfortable kind of presentation. The student and the teacher converse
with each other; they work; they improve their work; they raise doubts, bring
them up; as useful to the reader, who has filled his head with rules from other
books but in the end did not know what to do with them and was embarrassed
by both the abundance and the lack of rules! We want to set down the content
of the published five chapters. The first is about rhythmopoeïa or metric or-
der, the second contains basic rules in particular for tonal order, and the third
is a thorough and complete explanation of tonal order in particular, the fourth
is an explanation of deceptive tonal order, the fifth concerns passing, chang-
ing, and free notes, with other things belonging to simple counterpoint. In
short, this book, like those that have appeared in the series before it, deserves
to be in the hands of all those who seek to gain a thorough insight into the es-
sence of music and strict composition. The continuation follows in the future.
III/6, (1768), 41–45

Fifth Chapter. Essential Remarks on Counterpoint, concerning passing,
changing, and free notes, written partly on credit and partly at your own risk
with musical examples, and, again, presented as dialogue, by Joseph Riepel,
Chamber musician to His Highness the Prince of Thurn and Taxis, Regens-
burg, on commission by Jac Cristian Krippner, business and trade man, in
1768. 21 gatherings in folio.
The writer who complains in the reply to his friend about the exces-
sive price for which the parts of this work sell in foreign lands has not yet
absorbed the following brief message that accompanies the title: “One copy
of this fifth part costs thirty kreuzer. All five parts together cost two guilders
and thirty kreuzer. Those who want 1, 2, or more copies must send money
and stamped envelopes.” It is regrettable, indeed, that the altruistic intentions
of the upright Mr. Riepel, have been, up until now, so little utilized and the
sales of his work have not been properly promoted. Of course, his book is a
little high-priced, if one must pay 16, 20, or even 24 guilders for each part:
one will do better in the future if one applies directly to the Commissarium
mentioned on the title page of the fifth part.
We have presented a) [a) See the Wöchenl. mus. Nachrichten of year
1766, in the 2nd installment] in its time the fourth part of this very useful
work. Up to now it has been the intention of the author to explain clearly
and understandably everything that belongs to the essence of a good melody
and, likewise, to pure and correct harmony. He even let his students some-
times make an attempt to combine both with each other, that is, to set a bass
and even a middle voice with an invented melody. But now it seems that the
451
student does more, and his teacher only finds a few more things necessary for
knowledge of music. He thus spends this fifth chapter explaining the so-called
changing and passing notes. We want to follow the author in his explanation
and to introduce the contents of the whole part in brief. Thoroughness and
clarity are once again the characteristics of his presentation, and a few scat-
tered excesses always serve to tax the attention of the reader not too much
because of such material. Frequently there are also steps that the author takes,
not without cause, forward and back. Sometimes Mr. Riepel shares things that
have been touched upon only fleetingly by other writers, and they receive an
important consideration through the way they are treated. We will have the
opportunity to quote examples in the continuation of our review.
Before Mr. Riepel, the theory of passing and auxiliary notes has seen
such a detailed treatment in no musical treatise other than in Murschhauser’s
high school of musical composition. There are small errors in this book, and
no one has seen them in a clearer light than Mattheson; the author [Riepel]
improves upon it occasionally and takes as much from it for his use as he
deems useful for his purpose. We think that he deserves his own praise. In
fact, it cannot be a matter of indifference to lovers of musical knowledge to
see a man who produces musical writings with insight note and improve upon
the same errors: Mr. Riepel has already done this in the previous parts in re-
gard to the well-known work of Capellmeister Fux, and his book contains, by
this means, a new priority when, in addition to its own particular merit, one
can use it also as a supplement to the best musical writings.
In order to understand what changing and passing notes are, and to
learn to distinguish each from the other, one must know what in music are
called a good and a bad note, a good and a bad part of a measure. The passing
note always falls on the so-called bad note, p. 2. It usually makes a dissonance
against the bass, but it also sometimes forms a fifth and a sixth before this
configuration, p. 3. There may be a lot of passing notes in a measure or in a
run, but the run must not end on any unnatural note, p. 5. This is followed by
some useful observations on the differences between 4/4, alla-breve, and 2/4
meters. Also, the bass may have passing notes, p. 7. The changing note always
falls on the downbeat, or the so-called good note, p. 10. How a continuo play-
er manages this, p. 11. Altered and passing notes can occur mixed with one
another, p. 12. Something of the use of the false fifth and diminished seventh,
p. 13. Similarly, concerning the succession in direct motion of fifths and oc-
taves, p. 14. Should changing and passing notes coincide in different voices?
p. 16. Now follow eight more useful observations from Murschhauser’s trea-
tise concerning changing and passing notes, which the author examines in de-
tail and explains through good and bad examples. That which the author says
452
on p. 25 concerning incidental successions of fifths and octaves is extremely

well considered, and as yet we have found no other place where the matter
is so carefully and thoroughly investigated. There are liberties in singing,
and how one can explain them more reasonably than when Mr. Riepel says,
on p. 27, “I laugh when I see them in abundance in the music of composers
who absolutely do not know what the rule is. I also laugh when a pedant who
knows nothing but rusty old fugues and harmonies sighs so sadly about the
liberties in the song of a famous master.” “For and against today’s customary
liberties would require an entire tome to write,” he adds in a note. On p. 29
we find a general comment, which we consider worthy of a closer examina-
tion because from it, at the same time, one would get to know the true nature
of music in every age. “We have,” says the author, “a pile of ancient, old, and
new rules, which multiply from year to year according to the accumulation
of the invention of inexhaustible song. The ancient rules are so general that
the merest beginner knows them, the old ones are not so easy to remember,
and the newer ones are hard to obey.” Certainly we no longer want to follow
the old rules in today’s composition or to suffer a major limitation in some
respects. We now seem to have reached a period in music when many new
rules can be abstracted from the works of famous masters, even if they were
only exceptions to the old rules, which would, in fact, be better.
The examples given on p. 30 ff. illustrate the above-said in another
way, namely in the use of ties [i.e., suspensions]. It is introduced as something
of a variation of the bass and a concealment or mediation of fifths, as on p.
33, a kind of deceptive cadence or change of key that was used often during
Murschhauser’s time. On p. 34 Riepel explains the difference between the
tie and the syncopation, whereupon, when it is examined closely, not much
seems to come of it. According to the explanation given by the author, the tie
is certainly not a syncopation, but the syncopation is always a tie. “Names do
not matter,” the author, himself, remarks, “and are often childish delusions.”
The question of whether one may enter with another voice during a tie is
answered “yes” on p. 35, following Murschhauser, although the entrance of
another voice seems clearer if the tie has already been resolved. This point
belongs to fugue theory, in which the author, in his usual way, makes a little
exaggeration. How carefully one must deal with ties and doubling in ties is
shown on p. 36, referring to Murschhauser, and some of his examples include
improvements. How the false fifth, likewise the diminished fourth, and the
augmented fifth arising from an inversion of the same, are suspended and re-
solved can be seen in fourteen relevant examples on p. 39, where, at the same
time, something of the outcrying cadence with the major third in a minor key
is noted in passing. That the ancient beauties still need to permit reclothing is
453
shown on p. 41 in a strict three-voice setting decked out with a new concerto-

like or melodic voice, also by a few experiments with inversion and multi-
plication of the middle voices. The notes on p. 43 concerning instrumental
accompaniment of a singing choir are very sensible and deserve to be read
by composers. Whoever needs a small piece of exquisite chromatic madness
and does not want to seek it at once in some newfangled compositions, can
find the same in the author’s relevant example on p. 44. Such masterpieces
come more often to the fore these days, since it seems to have become almost
the general rule. The crazier, the better! It is true that everything here is put
forward by a given bass, and, thus, in single-directional or oblique move-
ment, where one has more freedom with dissonance. But what is too much,
is too much. As appoggiaturas, or as such notes that take their origin from
them, even the harshest dissonances are introduced, as the author shows on
p. 45; and they will have to be accepted soon as a beauty, since players and
sawyers listen to these excesses every day, to the extent that Mr. Marpurg,
in one place, urges against these out-of-the-scale appoggiaturas. Mr. Riepel
calls them sharpened appoggiaturas: I suppose they are, alas! More often too
sharp! The continuation follows in the future.
III/9 (1768), 68–70.

Conclusion of the fifth chapter of Mr. Riepel’s introduction to composition.
We left off our examination of this useful work, which does honor
to its author, on the 45th page, concerning appoggiaturas. The author treats
all kinds of these at length and in depth, and he shows, among other things,
what kinds of errors in pure harmony proceed from these at times. This mate-
rial deserves a deeper investigation, in fact, because it is an essential part of
a good and graceful style. The author does not leave this until the end, and
all that is maintained in the meantime relates to it or is based on it. On p. 53
an appoggiatura with an augmented second is presented, of which we would
prefer to say, whether it was serious or comic, it would be difficult for a
singer to deal with.
Extremely fine are the author’s remarks about what is to be observed
when rising or falling by step, and they reveal a level of attention that is not
found in the case of all so-called virtuosos when it concerns the thing that
they expect in their artistic creations. They seem to be good observations for
flutists and oboists.
On p. 56 the author brings in something of Murschhauser’s division
of cadences or conclusions, although only in passing, and then, on p. 57,
come the extravagant notes. The thing itself would seem to some just as ir-
454
relevant as its unfamiliar name. One would, perhaps, consider the extravagant
notes the same as passing notes or changing notes, and therefore consider the
whole theory superfluous. But if one compares the examples on pp. 59 and 60,
set down by the author with a mixture of appoggiatauras, anticipations, pass-
ing notes, changing notes, and extravagant notes, one can easily form a clear
and distinct concept of all of them. On p. 64 the abuses are mentioned that
motivate some composers when they introduce an initial theme into a cadenza:
such improprieties are easy to avoid, and yet they are committed every day.
The author adds some improvements, and there is no doubt that still others
were possible. What is called an appoggiatura liberty on this page, we would
rather call an optional anticipation note, which is written as a mere melodic
convenience without having had an influence on the harmony, or it must be
taken into account as such. In such details, Mr. Riepel shows himself to be a
sharp-eyed observer and a thinking head, but we are accumulating rules of an
art without necessity when we bring under special titles every little thing that
seems to deviate from the familiar. What else the author says on p. 66 about
the variation and decoration of the concluding note is, again, very reasonable
and fine. We would scarcely have thought it possible for a composer to be able
to write a cadence of the sort shown on p. 67, if we had not encountered it
recently in a printed German cantata more than once.
On p. 69 Mr. Riepel comes back to the incidental fifths and octaves;
the adduced example and what is said about it deserve attention, as we have
already read on this account on p. 25. We pass over an old, worn-out cadence
that certain great masters a little too often put forward; a couple of examples
of erroneous remarks about French opera comique, which seemed to us note-
worthy, especially the epiphenomena: if French music were only half as useful
we would have had it already too long in this country. The reader can find,
here, confirmation of what we have said in the past about French comic opera.
Something about making a canon and a four-part, very strange invention may
be seen on page 76. The following three pages, which form the end of the
whole chapter, treat in a rather curious matter, the initiation or preparation of
a fermata-cadenza.
Nothing is truer than the words with which Mr. Riepel concludes each
chapter and, thus, also this one: music is an boundless sea. Would that its de-
tractors, who so boldly judge it and understand so little of it, be, thus, brought
to understand it! May, therefore, the honest and judicious Mr. Riepel find the
fulfilment of his intentions and the fruit of his efforts, so that we will not have
to wait too long for the hoped-for parts. Through his work, he serves not only
the beginner in composition, since he lays everything out for them with such
detail and clarity that we have often marveled at the patience with which he
455
often more than once places certain things before the eyes of the discantist in
order to respond to every idea and doubt worthy of attention; but already ex-
perienced and learned men can read his essays with benefit because, through
the astute and careful investigations of Mr. Riepel, they will at least be made
aware of certain things previously overlooked as insignificant, even if they
will not agree with his opinion everywhere.
Gerber, Ernst Ludwig: Historisch-Biographisches Lexicon der

Tonkünstler, welches Nachrichten von dem Leben und Werken musika-
lischer Schriftsteller, berühmter Componisten, Sänger, Meister auf Instru-
menten, Dilettanten, Orgel- und Instrumentenmacher, enthält, Bd.: 2, N
- Z, Leipzig, 1792:
Riepel (Joseph). Music Director of the princes of Thurn and Taxis in
Regensburg in the middle of this century, was a thorough music scholar and
composer, a fine violinist, and a very upright man, whose character has been
known for many years, and so it is to be regretted that his death on the 23rd
of October 1782 was a loss to music.
I know little of the life circumstances of this meritorious man to
whom each musical artist owes thanks and respect for his clear understand-
ing and for his teaching of rhythm, in chaos before his time, in his Anfangs-
gründe. I therefore fill this void with the judgements of Mr. Hiller concerning
the works of this man. [He quotes from Hiller’s review, translated above.]
v
Reception of Riepel’s teaching among his contemporaries should
also be found in features of music composed by his students. This has scarce-
ly been investigated, although an examination for this purpose should be
fruitful. Summarizing several earlier reports, Emmerig names Riepel’s Re-
gensburg students as follows: Fortunat Ferdinand Cavallo (1738–1801), Jo-
hann Baptist Hamp (dates unknown), Johann Christoph Kaffka (1754–1815),
Joseph Anton Liber (1732–1809), Christoph Friedrich Wilhelm Nopitsch
(1758–1824), Franz Xaver Pokorny (1728–1794), Georg Poll (b. 1747), Se-
bastian Prixner (1744–1799), Theodor Freiherr von Schacht (1748–1823),
Johann Baptist Schmid (1737–1809), Johann Caspar Schubarth (1736–1810),
Coelestin Steiglehner (1738–1819), Franz Adam Veichtner (1741–1822), and
Johann Christoph Vogel (1758–1788).60
60
Thomas Emmerig, Joseph Riepel, 1709-1782, Hofkapellmeister des Fürsten von Thurn und
Taxis: Biographie, thematisches Werkverzeichnis, Schriftenverzeichnis, Thurn und Taxis-Stu-
dien, 14. (Kallmünz: M. Lassleben, 1984), 34.
456
A Few Final Words
I wish to return to the bothersome questions of whether this or that eigh-

teenth-century composer actually read Riepel’s treatise or at least learned
about it and was influenced by it. My answer, again, has been that Riepel’s,
like any contemporaneous theory, is important to us not as a cause of com-
positional behavior but as an insight into a perspective shared by musicians
of a former time, a perspective that we, as chronological outsiders seek to
share and understand as much as we can. In some respects we are confronted
with a (musical) language of which we are not native speakers. In order to
understand it, we may find it useful, at least at some point, to employ some
sort of parsing.
As an illustration, let us, as Anglophones, consider the following
sentence in German: Der Versuch, den Begriff der Klangstufe so zu formu-
lieren, daß ein Widerspruch zu den Voraussetzungen des “Intervallsatzes”
vermieden wird, wäre fragmentarisch ohne Beschreibung des Zusammen-
hangs, in den sich die Stufen einfügen.61 (“The attempt to formulate the con-
cept of chordal roots as scale degrees in such a way that a contradiction to
the postulates of ‘intervalic composition’ is avoided would be fragmentary
without describing the context in which the scale degrees are embedded.”)
It is a rather complex and convoluted sentence, and a beginner in the study
of German might find it difficult to understand at first. If so, it might help to
parse it, perhaps with a diagram like the one shown in Figure 1. In this way,
it becomes clear that the basic sentence is Der Versuch wäre fragmentarisch,
but its full, actual meaning depends on the modifications of the words Ver-
such and wäre and on the further modifications of several words used in
those first-level modifications, and so on. Each modification is, in effect, an
internal expansion or peripheral extension of the basic sentence.
I feel confident that the reader will, with consideration, understand
the parallel between this approach to language and Riepel’s theories of com-
position and analysis. In an eighteenth-century musical composition as in a
(German) sentence, each segment has logical(s) relation to some other(s),
and each can be expanded from within or extended at its extremes in ways
that establish and refine its eventual meaning. Viewed in this way, Riepel’s
theory of expansion appears to promote a kind of musical parsing.
Riepel also demonstrates analytical reduction, by stages, from the
actual musical foreground to a theoretical “miniature,” consisting of only
61
Carl Dahlhaus, Untersuchungen über die Entstehung der harmonischen Tonalität, Saar-
brücker Studien zur Musikwissenschaft 2 (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1968), 214.
457
I–V–I (202–203 [65]). Several modern writers have noted the similarity of
Heinrich Schenker’s much later analytical reductions to the earlier approach
suggested by Riepel,62 and Sisman, in particular, has demonstrated this with
composite musical examples.63
Now, Dahlhaus did not draw or envision a diagram like mine before
writing his sentence any more than Mozart sketched out a Schenkerian reduc-
tion diagram before setting quill to paper. Likewise, Riepel’s theory does not
depend on eighteenth-century composers’ knowledge of it for its usefulness
or validity. Riepel’s theory has the advantage that it represents a form of mu-
sical conceptualization that was understood and appreciated in the eighteenth
century. We can only hope that we will understand it as well.
Figure 1. A parsing diagram of Dahlhaus’s sentence “Der Versuch,” etc.
62
For example, Lester, Compositional Theory, 263. A detailed examination of this parallel,
which includes Koch’s version of Riepel’s theory, is offered by Williamson, “Extended Phrase
Structure and Organic Unity.”
63
Sisman, “Small and Expanded Forms.”
458
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INDEX
Abmessung, 361 Benary, Peter, vii, 460
abrupto, 207-8, 230, 273-4 Benda, Franz, 313, 402, 404, 409, 415-
Absatz, viii, xiv-xxiii, 35, 86, 209, 357, 6, 429, 462
367-8, 404, 416-7, 442, 460, 462 Benda, Georg, 404, 415, 429
Absätze, xviii, xxi, 417 Berlin, ix, 141, 337, 401-2, 420-1, 429,
Abschnitt, xiv, xv, 441-2 450
acceleration, 362 beweglich, xxii, 355
accent(ed), xxii, 348, 353-4, 365-6, 368 binary, xx, xxii, 355, 357, 365, 368-9,
affect, 314 371-2, 374
Albrecht, Otto E., 386, 465 black Gredel, xiii, 253, 255-6, 262, 464
anacrusis, 347, 354, 365, 434 boisterous passage(s), xiv, xxi, xxiii,
60, 71-3, 82, 115, 126, 238, 263,
Änderungsabsatz (Änderungs-Absatz),
303-7, 365-6
xvii, 209, 357, 442
Brossard, Sebastien de, 130
Anhang, 386, 425, 443
Budday, Wolfgang, vii, 367-71, 384-5,
animated, 303, 360, 387
420-1, 429, 443, 460
antecedent, 364, 429
Buelow, George, 358, 461
antithesis (antitheses), 269-70, 277-8,
bullfinch, 230, 369
281, 300, 306, 315-6, 318-9
cadence(s), xiv, xv, xvii, xviii-xx, xxiii,
appendix (appendices), 386, 425, 443
7, 12, 16, 19, 21, 25-9, 47, 58, 60,
appoggiatura(s), 110-1, 342, 355, 435, 74, 79-85, 89, 96, 98-9, 102, 114,
454-5 128, 202-3, 205, 207-8, 217-8,
aria(s), 6-7, 38, 44, 54, 58, 61, 63, 74-5, 220-4, 227, 230-1, 234-5, 239,
77, 79, 81, 91, 99, 100-1, 103, 240, 242, 247-9, 251, 257, 261,
123, 129, 136, 144, 177, 186, 198, 270, 274-5, 277, 281, 284, 295-
207, 215, 218, 240, 242, 249, 275, 300, 304, 306-8, 311, 319, 342,
277, 283, 288, 290, 303, 306, 315- 351, 356-65, 368, 370-4, 378,
6, 318, 350 381-2, 385-6, 388-9, 394, 397,
Aristoxenus, 353 400-1, 404, 409, 415-8, 424-5,
arpeggio(s), xiv, 365, 435 429, 434, 438, 442-3, 445, 453-5
Ars Combinatoria, viii, 192, 202, 356, cadential, xxiii, 362, 368, 370, 381, 424,
370-1, 460 437-8
artificial, 104, 124, 169, 277, 294 Cadenz, viii, xiv-xv, xix, 198, 367-8,
Ausdähnung, xx, 243, 375 442, 460
Ausweichung, 209, 357 cadenza, 28, 198, 455
Bach, C. P. E., 349, 420, 450 caesura(s), xiv-xv, xviii, xx, xxi, 86,
209, 218, 221, 233-4, 237-41,
Baker, Nancy Kovaleff, 359, 386, 416, 243-5, 256, 268, 291, 346-7, 354,
425, 462 357-62, 371, 373, 375, 379-80,
Beethoven, Ludwig van, 366 384-6, 390, 423-5, 429-30, 434,
442, 448
465
cantabile, xvii, 7, 14, 18, 21, 34, 135, completely stirring, xviii-xx, 7, 12-4,
374, 380 17, 355-6
capriccio, 198, 302, 418 compound(ed), 369, 383, 400, 435, 442,
Cäsur, 442 444
Cavallo, Fortunat Ferdinand, 456 concerto(s), 3, 6-7, 11, 44, 47, 69, 71,
changeling(s), 83, 89, 114, 160 77, 79, 91, 99-100, 113-4, 136,
141, 143-4, 176, 187, 198, 218,
changing cadence, xv, 222, 368
249, 256, 260, 277, 295-302, 308,
changing comma, xv, xvi, 209, 213, 313-6, 318-9, 322, 336, 339-41,
215, 216-8, 240, 251, 357, 358, 343, 373, 386, 402-4, 412, 415-8,
362, 368, 372-3, 391, 424, 433-4, 436, 443, 454
447-8
conclusion(s), xv, xxiii, 88, 139, 164,
chorale, 125-6, 314 231, 233-5, 262, 298-9, 356-65,
chord(s), xiii-xiv xvii-xxiii, 157-8, 216, 370, 381-2, 400, 402, 404, 420,
261, 270, 288, 356-7, 366-8, 372, 430, 434, 436-8, 454
381, 386, 404, 447, 450, 457 conclusive, xv, xix-xxi, 37-8, 210-3,
Cicero, 188, 348 215-6, 219, 222, 304, 357, 361,
Classic style, 384, 464 363, 365, 381, 444, 447-8
clause(s), xvii, 19-20, 33-5, 41, 54, 57, confusion(e), 67, 98-9, 103-5, 107-8,
65, 67, 114-5, 246, 269, 277, 287, 111, 113, 116, 148, 241, 283, 445
316, 364, 374, 379-81, 385, 389- cut (away, out), xix, 10, 41, 52, 70-4,
90, 394, 400-01, 423, 425, 434 77, 83, 91, 99, 111, 238, 247, 265,
Clausel, xvii 279, 281, 371, 381-3, 388, 390,
Clavier, xxi, 349, 359, 360, 420 409, 424, 430, 436
climax, 362 Dahlhaus, Carl, 457-9, 460
cobbler’s patch, xxii, 36, 48, 221, 366 Daube, Johann Friedrich, viii, 461
comma(s), xiv-xxiv, 35-9, 41, 47, 58, deceptive(ly), 248, 382, 424, 451, 453
69, 86, 145, 184, 192, 209-31, Descartes, René, 321
233-5, 237-45, 248, 251-2, 256, dialogue, viii-ix, 378, 394, 449-51, 460
259, 261-3, 266-9, 279, 283-4, discursive, 429
291-2, 295, 300, 304, 310-2, 338,
divide(d), 43, 56, 64-8, 72, 74, 105,
342, 346, 354, 357-9, 361-5,
173, 178, 181-3, 200, 235, 263,
368-75, 378-82, 384-6, 388-91,
287, 360, 362, 370, 377, 417, 434,
394, 397, 400-1, 404, 409, 415-8,
442, 447
423-5, 429-30, 433-5, 438, 442-3,
447-8 double(d), doubling, xxiii, 24, 57, 105,
247-9, 261, 277, 370-1, 381, 385-
compass(es), xviii, 1-2, 144, 160, 176,
6, 424-5, 443
181, 186, 188-90, 233-5, 254,
358-61, 364, 449 Dreier, 442
complete, xv, xvii-xxii, 26-8, 43, 51, Dresden, v, vii, ix, 140-1, 401-4, 409,
54, 74, 78, 219, 228, 230, 234-5, 415-6, 418, 420-1, 429, 461
355-7, 361-3, 365, 370, 374, 385, drum bass, 285, 290
389-90, 412, 433-5, 440, 444 Eberlin, Johann Ernst, 349
466
Index
Eckert, Stefan , viii, 356, 367-8, 370- Fortspinnung(stypus), 380, 401, 404,
1, 460 443, 461-2
effect(ed), 41, 263, 270, 284, 286, 288- foursome(s), 7, 9, 12, 21, 23, 38, 43-4,
9, 353, 355, 362, 424, 434, 435, 47-8, 50, 52, 54, 56, 59-61, 64,
437 67-8, 70, 72-4, 83, 218-9, 233,
eightsome(s), 47, 50, 66, 237, 373, 379, 236-7, 369-71, 373-5, 377, 379-
383, 384-6, 389-90, 400, 423-4 82, 384-91, 394, 400, 404, 416-7,
eingetheilt, xix-xx 423-5, 429-30, 433, 434-6, 438,
442-5, 448
Einschaltung, 442
Frankfurt, 139-40, 404, 463-4
Einschiebsel, xxi, 246, 379-80, 442, 462
fugue(s), vii, 3, 43, 104-5, 107, 118,
Einschnitt, viii, xiv-xv, 86, 209, 357,
144, 179, 202, 207-8, 227, 253,
367, 368, 442, 460
260, 292, 296-7, 299, 319, 342,
eintheilen, xix-xx 349, 373, 453
Eintheilung, xix-xx, 382, 430, 442 Fünfer, 442
Emmerig, Thomas, vii-viii, x, 402-3, Fux, Johann Joseph, 130, 132-3, 139,
456, 460, 464 149-50, 152, 161, 172-3, 177,
Endigung, 441 185, 188, 296, 300, 402, 420, 449,
endlich, xix, 442 452
enthuymene, 234, 361 Galant style, viii, 367, 401, 460
epiphenomena. 455 Giger, Andreas, 419, 461
erhebende, xviii-xx, 355-6 Gimpel, 369
Erweiterung, 442 Gjerdingen, Robert O., viii, 367, 384,
eurhythmia, 187 460
ex abrupto, 207-8, 230, 273-4 Glied, 442
expansion(s), xx-xxi, xxiii, 243-4, 261, goldfinch, 229, 262, 366, 368-9
305, 318, 356, 370-1, 373-8, 381, Graun, Johann Gottlieb , 402, 404,
384-5, 388, 394, 397, 400-1, 404, 415-6, 429, 464
417-8, 421, 424-5, 429, 436, 440, Grundabsatz (Grund-Absatz), xxiii,
443, 458 209, 357, 442
extension(s), xiv, 277, 369-70, 385-6, Grundton (Grund-Ton), xxiv
387-8, 391, 418, 425, 443, 458 Hamp, Johann Baptist, 456
Feil, Arnold, vii, 460 Hansmichel, 116-7, 135-6, 147, 179-80,
fivesome(s), 22, 49, 64-9, 73, 262, 430, 189, 198, 214-5, 284, 290, 308,
444 310, 350-1
fonte , x, xx, xxii, 221-2, 224, 226, Harmonisches Sylbenmaß, vii, 403, 464
228, 231, 235, 242-3, 245, 256-7, harpsichord, xxi, 143, 179-81, 187-8,
260-1, 273, 275, 304, 311-2, 340, 287, 313
365-8, 373, 379, 416, 421, 425,
Hasse, Johann Adolph , 403
429, 436, 443
Hauptton(art), xxiv, 442
foreman, xiii, 253-4, 256, 265, 309, 372
Haydn, Johann Michael, viii, 461
Forkel, Johann Nikolas , 448-9
Haydn, Joseph, viii, 464
467
Hellenbrand, Gregory Thomas, viii, xi, Koch, Heinrich Christoph, v, vii-ix, 359,
461 368, 370, 386-7, 391, 416, 425,
hermaphrodite, 312 441-4, 459, 460-2, 464
Hill, John Walter, 1, 387, 461, 465 Krippner, Jac Cristian, 451, 463
Hiller, Johann Adam, 449, 456 Landmann, Ortrun, 401, 461
Holtzbaur, Ignaz, 419 Laufer, xxiii, 71
Houle, George, 353, 461 leaping, xiv, xxi, xxiii, 10, 71, 73, 82,
Hudson, Sharon, viii, 461 131, 263, 365-6
Iamb(ic), 347-8, 354, 358, 365 lebendig, 355
immobile, xx, xxii, 7, 13, 21, 24, 36, Leipzig, 140, 142
37-8, 270, 355, 357 lengthen(ed), lengthening, xx, 49, 61,
implication, 357, 359-60, 362-3, 365, 83, 236, 384-5
368, 463 Lester, Joel, viii, 370, 459, 462
incomplete, xviii, xx-xxi, 26, 27-8, 206, Liber, Joseph Anton, 456
216, 219, 355-7, 360-4 Linfield, Eva, 367, 462
incompletely stirring, xix-xx, 7, 13-4, lively, 13, 18, 33, 42, 51, 72, 77, 84, 90,
17, 206, 355 134-5, 175-7, 183, 246, 261-2,
inconclusive, xx-xxi, 37-8, 210-3, 215- 265, 281, 285-6, 303, 314, 355,
6, 219, 304, 357, 381, 444, 447-8 445, 449
insertion(s), xx-xxiii, 246, 260-1, 270, Lotter, Johann Jacob, 137, 349, 403,
276-7, 283, 304, 370-1, 374, 377- 420, 463
80, 385-6, 389-91, 394, 397, 400, Lubovsky, Bella Brover, 371-2, 460
404, 412, 415-6, 418, 429, 433-4, Lully, Jean-Baptiste, 235
436-7, 440, 443, 445 Marpurg, Friedrich Wilhelm, 349, 420,
Kaffka, Johann Cristoph, 456 444-5, 448, 450, 454
Kaiser, Ulrich , vii, 461 Merkl, Josef, vii, 462
Kaneko, Junko, 380, 461-2 metric order, v, xxii-xxiii, 1, 4, 5, 10,
Kearns, Andrew, viii, 462 29, 42, 45, 70, 79, 92, 115, 136-7,
key(s), xiii-xv, xxi, xxiii-xxiv, 9, 28, 42, 139, 145, 186, 237, 262, 265, 277,
93, 95, 111, 121, 125-7, 143, 145, 320, 346, 353, 356, 369, 441,
147-8, 150-4, 158-61, 164-77, 444-5, 449, 451
179-81, 187, 203-5, 208-9, 217, Meyer, , xiii, 253, 371-2, 460
230, 241, 253, 256, 262, 265-7, Meyer, Leonard B., 359, 462
269, 275-6, 283, 290, 297-301, miniature(s), 252-3, 255, 270, 281, 295-
303-5, 307-8, 310, 314, 316, 7, 322, 324, 326-9, 343, 371-2,
319-20, 322, 324, 326-7, 336-44, 458
346, 356-8, 361, 371-3, 404, 425,
mobile, xx, xxii, 32, 36, 37-8, 270, 355,
442-3, 446-7, 453
357
keyboard(s), xxi, 2, 148, 154, 158, 166,
modulation(s), xxiii, 125-6, 152-3, 175,
233
217, 240, 257, 267, 326, 336, 372,
Kircher, Athanasius, 55, 200, 254, 346 394
Molter, Johann Melchior, 415
468
Index
monte, x, xx, xxii, 221-2, 224, 226, 228, Pokorny, Franz Xaver, 419, 456
231, 235, 241-3, 256-7, 260-1, Poll, Georg, 456
273, 281-2, 340, 366-8, 373, 379, ponte, x, xx, xxii, 221-2, 225-6, 228,
424-5, 429, 443 231, 235, 241-3, 245-8, 340, 366-
motion(s), xv, xvii-xviii, xx-xxiii, 2, 17, 8, 373, 379, 425, 443
34-5, 69, 355-7, 360, 363, 366-7, prolongation(s), xxii, 243, 246, 247,
452 249, 260, 307, 370-5, 385-6, 388,
moving, xix, 10, 314, 356, 365, 371 390, 404, 423
Mozart, Leopold, v, 419-20, 424-5, 429, propositio, 360
462 proposition, 25, 233, 359-61
Mozart, Wolfgang, v, viii-ix, xiii, 369, punctuation x, xiii, 291, 298, 300,
384, 419-21, 423, 429, 430, 434- 309-311, 327, 360, 361
7, 440, 443, 459-61, 464
punctuation(s), xiv-xv, xviii, xxiii, 357-
Murschhauser, Franz Xaver, 452-4 8, 365, 368, 371, 373, 384-7, 421,
Narmour, Eugene, 359, 463 424, 442-4
ninesome(s), 49, 67-8, 73, 445 Quantz, Johann Joachim, 402, 404
Nopitsch, Christoph Friedrich Wilhelm, question(ing), 213, 214-5, 253, 358,
456 361, 372
Oberknecht, xiii, 253, 372 Quintabsatz (Quint-Absatz), 442
Obermagd, xiii, 253 Rameau, Jean-Philippe , vii, xxiv,
Ottenberg, Hans-Günther, 401, 461 130, 234, 368, 370, 420, 464
overhang, 386, 387, 391, 443 Ratner, Leonard G., viii, 367-8, 463
parenthesis, parentheses, parenthetical, Rauscher, xiv, 71
xxi, 246, 379, 380, 416, 443 recapitulation , 433-4, 436-7
pathetic, pathetically, 173, 254, 313-5, Reed, Nola Jane, viii, 356-7, 370-1,
324, 339, 342 454, 463
peacock, 231, 366, 368-9 Regensburg, vii=viii, 1, 141, 402-3,
period(s), periodicity, vii-viii, xxii, 370, 419, 448-9, 451, 456, 460, 462-4
374, 380, 437, 438, 440, 442-3, repeat(s), repeated, repeating,
461, 464 repetition(s), xiv, xvii, xx, xxii-
permutation(s), xxiii, 143, 192, 194- xxiii, 19-20, 23-4, 29-30, 33-4,
202, 217, 227, 301, 326, 336, 344, 41, 48-9, 52, 54, 56, 61-2, 67,
345-7, 450 68-9, 74, 80, 86, 88-9, 91-3, 95-6,
phrase(s), phrasing, phrase structure, 98-9, 115, 218-9, 221, 227-8,
vii-viii, xiv, xvii-xxiii, 358-65, 230, 235-7, 239-41, 242-5, 248-
368-71, 373, 377-86, 389-90, 394, 51, 257, 259, 261-2, 265, 269,
397, 400-1, 404, 409, 412, 415-6, 274, 277, 281, 283, 284-5, 292,
421, 424-5, 429-30, 433-8, 440-4, 301, 304, 316, 318, 356, 365-7,
447-8, 459, 460-2, 464 369-76, 380-7, 389-91, 394, 397,
Pisendel, Johann George, ix, 401-4, 400-4, 416, 423-5, 429-30, 434-6,
409, 412, 415-6, 418, 420, 429, 438, 442-3, 445
461-2 response, responsive, 359-60, 362, 379
469
rhetoric(al), , 143, 270 singing, xiv, xxi, xxiii, 7, 69, 71-3, 82-3,
rhythmopoeïa, v, ix-x, xxii, 1, 4, 42, 88, 119, 135, 176, 261, 277, 285-
346, 353-4, 365, 368-9, 373, 387, 7, 303-4, 313, 365-6, 446, 453-4
423-4, 433, 442, 449, 451, 463 Sisman, Elaine R., viii, 367, 370, 459,
Riemann, Hugo, 386, 443 464
ritornello, 44, 275, 302 sixsome(s), 55-7, 64-7, 72-3, 235, 370,
Rivera, Benito, 358, 461 444
Rosalia, 367, 461 sloth, 143, 254, 258, 268, 372
Ruhleder, Karen, xi, 1 sonata(s), viii, 168, 339, 418, 424, 429,
434, 435, 461
running, xiv, xxi, xxiii, 7-8, 10-12, 32,
66, 69, 71-3, 82, 171, 238, 263, Spiess, Meinrad, 143, 346-8, 353-4
306, 355-6, 365-6 Springer, xxi, 71
Scheibe, Johann Adolph, viii, 420, 461 Stamitz, Johann, 384, 387, 419, 464
Schiedermair, Ludwig, 419, 464 Steiglehner, Coelestin, 456
Schluß, 361-2 Stieglitz, 229, 366
Schlusssatz, 442 subject(s), xx-xxi, 233, 235, 263, 358-
Schmid, Johann Baptist, 456 62, 366, 370, 379-80, 417, 442
Schubart, Christian Friedrich Daniel, syllogism(s), 199, 235, 362-5
448 symphony , symphonies, viii, 6-7, 11,
Schubarth, Johann Caspar, 449, 456, 18, 58, 60, 65, 67, 73, 82, 89, 91-
463 2, 96, 100-1, 118, 135-6, 143-4,
169, 240, 242, 249-50, 256, 260-
Schusterfleck , xxii, 366
3, 269, 271, 273, 275, 277-9, 281,
Schütz, Heinrich, 367 283-4, 294-6, 299, 310, 339, 341,
Schwärmer, 305 367, 371, 373, 381, 384, 386-7,
Schwartzmaier, Ernst, vii, 464 402-4, 409, 415-6, 418-9, 460-1,
schwarze Gredel, xiii, 253, 255-6, 262, 464
464 Tactordnung, x, xxii-xxiii, 1, 4, 139,
Sechser, 442 353, 369, 441, 463
sentence(s), xxi, 233-4, 359-62, 364, Taglöbner, xiii, 253
370, 457-9 Takt, vii, 369, 464
sequence(s), 194, 261, 366, 367, 373, tautology, 219
379-80, 397, 400-1, 404, 417-8, tensome, 70
429, 461 theme(s), xxiii, 7, 18, 44, 47, 96, 99,
sevensome(s), 49, 67-8, 444 104-5, 143-5, 192, 195, 197-8,
sinfonia, sinfonie, vii, 409, 416-8, 464 207, 251, 263, 265, 269-71, 279,
Singer, xxiii, 71 295, 299-300, 305, 313, 315-9,
singer(s), 11, 25, 76, 114, 117, 119-20, 349, 385, 455
129, 136, 180, 184, 198, 215, 306,
313, 454
470
Index
theory, theories, v, vii-ix, xiii, 2, 188, Überhang, , 386-7, 443

214, 234-5, 314, 356, 359, 361-2, unbeweglich(e), xx, 355
367, 369-71, 380, 387, 401-4, unendlich, xx
409, 415-6, 418-20, 429-30, 433-
Unterläufferin, xiii, 253
4, 440-5, 447, 450, 452-3, 455,
457-9, 460-4 Untermagd, xiii, 253
theorist(s), theoretician(s), vii, xxiv, 2, unvollkomme(n), xix-xx, 355-60
188, 314 unvollkommen erhebende, xx, 355
threesome(s), 7-10, 20, 22-3, 42, 49, Veichtner, Franz Adam, 456
55-8, 60-4, 68-9, 186, 235, 262, Verlängerung, xxii
369-71, 380, 444-5 Vierer. 442
Thurn und Taxis, vii, 1, 139, 402, 420, violin(s). violinist(s), vii, 22, 27, 31-3,
448, 449, 451, 456, 460 35, 40-1, 74, 77, 96, 98, 102, 107,
Ton, xxi 111, 141, 143, 152, 162, 167-9,
tonal order, xxii-xxiii, 4, 23, 25, 45, 92- 174-7, 180-2, 185, 187, 189,
3, 95, 99, 136, 139, 143-4, 186, 198, 205, 211-2, 216, 263, 274-5,
197, 202, 209, 227, 253-4, 260, 285-9, 292, 295-6, 302, 305-6,
262, 295, 302, 311, 321, 341, 346, 313, 315, 319, 321, 324, 326, 339,
350, 356, 441, 445, 447, 449, 451 341-2, 351, 402-4, 412, 417, 420,
tonality, tonalities, xxi, xxiii, 172, 183, 434, 447, 456
204, 253, 257, 284, 308 Vivaldi, Antonio, 386, 403, 415-8, 429
Tonart, xxi Vogler, Georg Joseph, xxiv, 420
tonic comma(s), xxiii-xxiv, 209, 210-3, vollkomme(nen), xviii-xx, 355-6, 442
216, 218, 220-1, 304, 357-9, 363- vollkommenen erhebende, xviii-xx, 355
4, 372-3, 384, 424, 447 Voss(ius), Isaac, 5, 353
tonic key, xxiv, 341, 372 Wagner, Christian Ulrich, 352
tonic note(s), xix, xxi, xxiv, 148-9, 151, Waldura, Markus, vii, 368, 370, 464
165, 169, 202, 210-2, 217, 266, Weckmeister, Andreas , 366
358, 365, 372, 447
Willer, Monika, 404, 464
Tonordnung, vii, x, xxii-xxiii, 139, 401,
Williamson, Richard Anthony, viii, 459,
403, 416, 420, 441, 442, 449, 463,
464
464
Wolf, Eugene K., 384, 386-7
Tonwechselung(en), 381, 390
Zarlino, Gioseffo, 188
Twittenhoff, Wilhelm, vii, 402, 464
Zelenka, Jan Dismas, 402-3, 418
twosome(s), 7-10, 12, 16, 21, 23, 36,
42-3, 48, 51-4, 68-73, 81, 186, Zirkel, xviii, 1, 359-60, 463
218, 236, 244-5, 276, 369, 376-7,
379-80, 384, 424, 444-5, 448
471

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Joseph Riepel’s

Theory of Metric and Tonal Order,

Anfangsgründe zur musicalischen Setzkunst,

Chapters 1 and 2 (1752/54, 1755) with Commentary

HARMONOLOGIA: Studies in Music Theory No. 20

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Copyright 2014 John Walter Hill

Joseph Riepel, Foundations of Musical Composition, Chapters 1 and 2

Chapter 2, Principles of Tonal Order Generally 138

Rhythmopoeïa and Melopoeïa 353

Mid-Eighteenth-Century Berlin Orchestral Repertoire 401

Reception: Leopold and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart 419

Reception: Heinrich Christoph Koch, Other Contemporaneous 441

A Few Final Words 457

positional theory can be found in several English-language doctoral disser-

boisterous passage (Rauscher). One of four common types of passage that

melodic line generally falls. In Riepel’s presentation, the most conclusive

caesura (Einschnitt, Abschnitt). In Riepel’s second chapter, this refers to a

changing cadence (Änderungs-Cadenz). See, by comparison changing com-

changing comma (Änderungs-Absatz). This comma concludes with what is

complete (vollkomme). As a technical term, when it does not modify erhe-

“complete” to designate a phrase ending on a downbeat with a single note

completely stirring (notes, measure) (vollkommenen erhebende [Noten,

conclusive (endlich). This term refers to commas and cadences. Commas

cut away (eintheilen, eingetheilt, Eintheilung). Where this English transla-

expansion (Ausdähnung, Ausdehnung, etc.). Riepel introduces this as a tech-

incomplete (unvollkomme). An incomplete cadence or comma is usually

incompletely stirring (notes, measure) (unvollkommen erhebende [Noten,

inconclusive (unendlich). The opposite of “conclusive.” Inconclusive com-

insertion (Einschiebsel). Generally, Riepel shows insertions between com-

keyboard, harpsichord (Clavier). When Riepel distinguishes between the

leaping (Springer). One of four standard styles that Riepel distinguishes,

metric order (Tactordnung). This term is translated in parallel with “tonal

monte (Monte). Literally, “mountain.” One of the three standard types of

prolongation (Verlängerung). Riepel begins to use “prolong” and “prolon-

tonal order (Tonordnung). This term is translated in parallel with “metric

tonic comma (Grund-Absatz, Grundsatz). This comma is created by har-

Foundations of Musical Composition: Not At All According to the Old Mathe-

orator, specifically the Lord Schoolmaster in Urbsstadt. He called me a freshly

Your completely loyal brother

[1] First Chapter

Concerning Metric Order1

Discantist. My lord, the Lord Schoolmaster in Monsberg, greets Your Lordship

Disc. As far as I know, he can tolerate Your Lordship very well.

Disc. Oh yes, if only I could write the bass to them.

Prec. To be sure there is no great glory in composing minuets, although there

Disc. I did not anticipate that. But the reason?

Number 3. . . . not made the beginning, or theme, sufficiently distinctive

Number 4. I see some immobile and some excessively stepwise-running

Number 6. A very experienced natural historian once confided in me that

Number 7. Exemplary minuet connoisseurs prefer that the fourth and

Disc. That is terrible! If I but knew quickly what a twosome, a threesome,

[and] a stirring or running note is, I would begin to revise in a twinkling.

Prec. A twosome4 consists of two measures followed by another two mea-

It is better, however, in such two successive twosomes, that the rhythm be

Prec. By all means. Now a foursome6 consists of four measures, e.g.

Such a foursome can always have a place and a voice in a minuet.

Disc. That is true, but what is the reason for it?

Prec. I know of no distinction between the two.

a composer? It is certainly this, namely a complete grasp of metric order, that

Disc. Let us go on meanwhile. Now I want to improve my minuet first ac-

Prec. They are the following, e.g.

Prec. Certainly; for those especially.