The Moscow Weiss Lute Manuscript (An experiment in hypertext musicology)

by Tim Crawford 

(King’s College,London)

of the MS (f. 3) has been altered, for reasons that are obscure. The general title ‘Collection of various pieces and Sonatas for the lute, composed by Mr Weiss at Dresden,’ seems to have been written by the copyist of the tablature (hand A).^[10]Compare the characteristic capital Ps, in particular. Erasures, involving the removal of a layer of paper with a knife (a not unusual method in the eighteenth century), have been made later to remove three crucial pieces of information from the extra material written by hand B: the name of the ‘master’ who ‘approved’ the pieces; the name of his pupil; the date of the manuscript.

A third hand has added, how much later we cannot tell, a note in Russian:

prinadl.[?]^[11]Arnautova reads this text as ‘prinadlezhashchaia’ (belonging to.) leibgvardii Izmailovskogo polku kapitanu

(belong[?-ing ?-s ?-ed to?] captain of the Izmailovski household regiment),

and the Latin words: ‘Concordia res parvae’ (see fn 72). The same Russian hand contributed similar notes on f. 63v: in French, ‘Que tu vois’; in Latin: ‘Concordia res parvae crescunt’ (see fn 72); and in Russian, ‘Belonging to Ivan Skariatin’. A fourth hand, D, has written a longer note in Russian on f. 64

which cannot be read clearly from the photograph.^[12]Since Arnautova did not provide any transliterations of these inscriptions, it is probable that they are not readable from the manuscript either. Another Russian hand, E (perhaps that of a child?), has contributed various annotations to the title-page and the the meaning or significance of which is not known.

It is just possible, although for the moment it would be better to treat the idea with some caution, that hands A to D are in fact those of the same writer working at different times: the tendency to use an elaborately looped style for a ‘d’ shape in particular seems to be shared by them all. Arnautova plausibly suggests from the appearance of the ink that the music was written over an extended, unfortunately indeterminate, period.

Although the name of the original patron for whom the collection was prepared was erased from the title-page, as was that of his lute teacher, a later owner has identified himself fairly clearly. In the MS, on f. 63v, appears the phrase ‘Belonging to Ivan Skariatin’; and on the title-page, f. 3, reference is made to the owner as being an officer in the Izmailovsky regiment of the Imperial Army. Arnautova identified an Ivan Fedorovich Skariatin who joined the Izmailovsky household regiment, probably as a very young boy soldier, in 1761, was a lieutenant in 1780 and had reached the rank of colonel in 1805 when he was decorated after the battle of Austerlitz.^[13]Arnautova 1989, p. 534. Although Arnautova was unable to ascertain Ivan Skariatin’s dates of birth and death, it is unlikely that he was the original owner, since his ownership notes (if they were added on his acquisition of the MS, and not later) must date from after his promotion to captain, which must have happened between 1780 and 1805, at least a dozen years after the manuscript was begun.^[14]Arnautova mentions research by Klepikov which indicates that in late-eighteenth-century Russia, 70% of paper was used within two years of its manufacture. (Arnautova 1989, pp. 536-7. fn. 3).

Without considerably more research in Russian archives, it would be useless speculation to propose reasons why the original aristocratic owner’s name has been obliterated from the MS, along with his (her?) teacher’s name and the date. However, the MS seems to have remained with the Skariatin family until the late nineteenth century. In the preface to the 1966 catalogue of the printed music in the Moscow Conservatory library, it is mentioned that an important collection of 90 volumes of music manuscripts copied by the Abbé Santini for the secretary at the Russian Embassy in Rome, A. Ia. Skariatin, and deposited in the Conservatory library with the rest of the Skariatin family’s music collection in 1888, was transferred to the Glinka Museum in 1941.^[15]Moscow Conservatory 1966, p. 5.

Back to top

The lute in eighteenth-century Russia

The tumultuous changes wrought in Russia by Peter the Great (1672-1725) were as significant for cultural life as for the political future of the emerging world power. In order to modernise and ‘Westernise’ his realm, Peter imported foreign soldiers, engineers, physicians, administrators, workmen and, of course, artists of every kind. His new capital, St Petersburg, was founded in 1703 on the Baltic marshes; the government moved there in 1712, although Moscow, the ancient capital of Muscovy, retained much political, religious and social importance, and the Court itself remained there until 1730.

Peter’s reforms were carried on, with associated legal, religious and constitutional changes, by his successors, Catherine I (c.1684 -1727), Peter II (1715 -30), Anna Ivanovna (1693 -1740), Ivan VI (infant, murdered 1741), Elizaveta Petrovna (1709 – 62), Peter III (1728 -1762) and Catherine the Great (1729 – 96), during a century of dynastic rivalries and strife. The Russian throne was allied by marriage to several German noble families and much of the bitterness in the struggles for power in the Romanov family was due to the preference granted by various rulers to foreign influence, notably to the large number of Germans who dominated the administrative system.

It is not surprising, therefore, to discover that the history of music in Russia during the eighteenth century was largely one of ‘Germanisation’. But the characteristic forms and inflections of Russian folk music provided—as they still do—a strong vein of influence on ‘art’ music by native composers, a trait which was to culminate in the ‘nationalistic’ style of Russia’s first truly great composer Mikhail Glinka (1804-57). During the Baroque period local ‘folk’ musicians were employed in large numbers; frequently imported from rural villages to great houses in the cities, they satisfied their employers’ characteristically Russian need for contact with their cultural roots. At the same time, the trend towards Western musical ideals began to be supported actively by various members of the Royal family as patrons and, later, by a significant number of aristocratic and royal dilettante musicians as participants.

Peter the Great’s German son-in-law, Karl Ulrich, Duke of Holstein-Gottorp, started the trend, bringing his ‘kleine Kammer-Kapelle’ with him to St Petersburg on his marriage to Peter’s daughter, Anna, in 1720. Consisting of a few violins, as well as a viola d’amore, a viola, a cello and a double bass with pairs of oboes, flutes, horns and trumpets with drums, this ensemble made a huge impact on the St Petersburg musical scene, introducing for the first time the Italian music by Corelli, Tartini and others that formed the basic repertory of the court bands of Europe at the time. Their repertory also included the latest music by Germans such as Telemann, Heinichen and Fux, as well as compositions by members of the group themselves. The Holstein Kapelle won acclaim for its performances with the Ducal choir during the three days of celebrations which followed the treaty with Sweden in 1721.^[16]Stählin 1770, p. 81. The German band-members trained many young Russian musicians, who attained their own distinction in later years.

The Royal court, inspired by Holstein’s example and the rise in demand throughout Europe for opera seria, became formally involved in recruiting foreign musicians in the early 1730s. Czarina Anna Ivanovna, although personally uninterested in music, initiated negotiations at the highest level with the Court of Saxony in order to obtain the services of some members of the Elector’s over-abundant musical, theatrical and operatic establishment. In May 1730, the Russian diplomat assigned to the task wrote to his opposite number in Dresden describing the Czarina’s ‘shopping list’ for a group of performers to form a new ‘Musique de Cabinet’. She wanted it to be:^[17]Mooser 1948, p. 365: composée d’Elite des musiciens qui eussent l’aprobation de Virtuosi—car pour des bons musiciens nous n’en manquons pas icy—mais l’on voudroit que le peu de personnes … Continue reading

composed of elite musicians acknowledged as virtuosi—for we don’t lack good musicians here—but she would wish that these few persons from this country or abroad each excel in their speciality, if possible. She would like a good harpsichordist who is at the same time a composer, two singers for Italian and German arias, one of them a castrato if possible and the other a female singer who is not ugly or disagreeable but is above all pretty and who has decent manners. A good lute-player taught by [lit. ‘from the hand of ‘] our friend Mr Weis, to whom I wish you to pay my compliments. A good oboist who also has distinction on the flute. A good bassoonist.

In the event, the Saxon Elector and King of Poland, August the Strong, loaned three excellent singers who arrived in Moscow with a group of five instrumentalists of the highest quality, and a company of Italian commedia dell’arte players in February 1731. On this basis a more permanent Russian court ensemble was eventually formed, and the shrewd appointment of successive Italian maestri di capellaensured that the best Italian singers and instrumentalists were recruited for the Moscow Court, which enjoyed some of the best music in Europe during the second half of the century.

The small but distinguished instrumental ensemble loaned by the Elector of Saxony was drawn from his polnischer Kapelle, a small ensemble which normally accompanied him on his annual trips to Warsaw, and consisted of their Italian harpsichordist, composer and Kapellmeister, Giovanni Alberto Ristori (1692-1753), a violinist, a ‘Violgambiste’, two horn-players and a bassoonist.^[18]Mooser 1948, p. 365. The group of Italian comedy-players was under the direction of Ristori’s 73-year-old father, Tomaso.^[19]Mooser 1948, p. 43, fn. 4. The party, numbering 34 persons in all, was escorted on the arduous and dangerous journey from Warsaw to Moscow by a guard of Russian soldiers. The comedy-players (and probably the instrumentalists, too) were paid one thaler per day, while Ristori and the singers received a silver rouble per day. Because there was no Court theatre in the Kremlin, they took a portable stage with them, and performed for a delegation of Chinese diplomats in pantomime (without singing) since the Czarina could not understand Italian.^[20]Fürstenau 1862, pp. 169-70. Ristori’s oratorio, La Deposizione della Croce, was performed at Dresden in Holy Week, 1732, so it seems probable that he, at least, had returned some time before then.

The group of musicians from Saxony did not, contrary to the Czarina’s expressed wish, include a lute player, presumably because none of Weiss’s pupils at that time was available. However, a lutenist, Timofei Bielogradski, was appointed in 1739.^[21]Mooser 1948 , p. 210.We have little detailed information about Bielogradski’s life.^[22]His name, Тимофей Белоградский (‘Timofei Bielogradski’), is transmitted in various ways in non-Russian sources, resulting from differing transliterations from the Cyrillic … Continue reading It is clear, however, that he must have been a remarkable musician. There are enough references to his virtuosity to suggest that he was a worthy member of the illustrious group of professional lute players who carried on the tradition of Weiss’s manner of playing into the early pre-classical period. The two most distinguished Weiss pupils of this generation were Adam Falckenhagen (1697-c1761) and Johann Kropffgans (1703-after 1769). Another important lutenist of the later eighteenth century was Weiss’s own son Johann Adolf Faustinus (1741-1814).^[23]J.A.F. Weiss was born too late to have received more than the most basic training from his father given his birthdate April 15, 1741. His names are derived from those of Johann Adolf Hasse and his … Continue reading Unfortunately, Bielogradsky has left no evidence of activity as a composer, unlike his German fellows; we must presume that he depended on his powers of improvisation and his skill as an interpreter of the music of others.

The earliest, and probably most reliable source of information about Bielogradsky is a historical account of music and theatre in Russia by the German chronicler, Jakob von Stählin, published in 1770. Referring to events following the peformance of the opera Semiramide(music by the Russian Imperial Kapellmeister Francesco Araja) in Moscow in January 1738, Stählin mentions Bielogradsky’s appointment:^[24]Stählin 1770, pp. 91-2: Um eben dieselbe Zeit bekam der Hof auch einen vortrefflichen Lautenisten an Mr. Beligradskij, einem gebornen Ukrainer, den der Russisch-Kaiserl. Geheimrath und Ambassadeur, … Continue reading

At just about this time the court acquired a splendid lutenist, Mr Beligradski, born a Ukrainian, whom the Imperial Russian Privy Counsellor and Ambassador, Count Kayserling, formerly (1733) took with him as Pandorist to Dresden, and apprenticed him to the famous Weiss for several years. He plays, fully in the style of his great teacher, the weightiest solos and hardest concertos, and accompanies himself in opera- and other arias, which he sings with as much strength as grace, after the best manner of Annabili from Dresden, Faustina, and other great artists, with whom he had been acquainted at Dresden for many years, in a pleasant ‘Sopralto’ voice.

Although the actual date of Bielogradsky’s birth is unknown, we can surmise that he was probably born around 1710 or perhaps a little later since he was apprenticed to Weiss in 1733. Stählin refers to him as ‘einem gebornen Ukrainer,’ but there is some confusion about his place of birth. Somewhat later secondary sources refer to him as born in Circassia, a mountainous province in the Caucasus to the east of the Black Sea.^[25]Gerber 1790, art. ‘Beligradsky’ and art. ‘Pelagrazki oder Pelgratzky’: ‘geb. in Circassien’; Schilling 1840: ’Er war aus Circassien gebürtig’; Allgemeine Encyklopaedie 1841: ‘geb. … Continue reading It seems altogether more likely that this is in fact a phonetic confusion with the Ukrainian city of Cerkassy, which lies some 95 miles south-east of the capital, Kiev.^[26]The initial letter of both ‘Circassia’ [Черкес] and ‘Cerkassy’ [Черкасий] is best represented by the standard German transliteration ‘Tsch’. According to Stählin, before he took up the lute Bielogradsky was a Pandurist, or player of the Ukrainian Pandor. Since this is must be etymologically related to the modern Ukrainian bandura, a multi-stringed instrument which combines elements of the psaltery and the lute, it is perhaps important to take careful account of what Stählin actually says about the instrument. Earlier in his narrative of Russian musical history he gives a lengthy account of Russian folk instruments in current use including the Kuhhorn (Cow’s horn), the Gudok (rebec), the Balalajka, the Dutka or Schwerãn (double-tubed reed pipe), the Rileh and the Walynka (bagpipes). Following an account of a crude form of iron cymbals he heard played by two young apprentice blacksmiths, he gives a fairly detailed description of the Pandor and its players:^[27]Stählin 1770, pp. 71-4: Zur unvergleichlich bessern, eigentlich auch Russischen, und gewiss auch den feinsten Ohren nicht unangenemen Musik, gehört die Pandor und die Gusli (liegende Harfe), die … Continue reading

To the incomparably better class of music, actually Russian as well, and certainly also not disagreeable to sensitive ears, belong the Pandor and the Gusli (psaltery), which are no more to be found among the common people, but only in the towns and in the houses of aristocrats.

The Pandor, which is also not unknown in Germany, gets pretty close to a lute in its whole construction as well as in its sound; only excepting that the neck is usually somewhat shorter, and it is strung with fewer strings. One could therefore with justification call it the half lute. It actually originated in Poland or in the Ukraine, from where the most and best Pandurists in Russia also come. On the whole this province compares to the other provinces of the Russian empire as by reputation Provence does to the other regions of France. The southerly situation of the country, an abundance of all vegetables and fruits, and the naturally-inspired voluptuous life of the lively inhabitants, are among its chief distinguishing features. Everyone sings, everyone dances and plays in this country.

The most frequently-encountered instrument is the Pandor, on which the expert Ukrainians play the finest Polish and Ukrainian dances, and know how to accompany themselves in their many and truly tender songs. As nowadays very many young people in the Ukraine dedicate themselves to this instrument with special diligence, there has always been an abundance of Pandurists. Of these many formerly took themselves from time to time to Moscow and Petersburg, where they were taken on in the houses of great Russian gentlemen as house-musicians or Pandorists, who sing and play during meals, but also are obliged to teach this instrument to any of the household serfs who shows a liking and aptitude for music. These Ukrainian Pandorists are mostly merry and nimble birds, who in their songs very vividly express passion with facial expressions and gestures, and otherwise are pretty accustomed to fooling about. I have known some of the best, who while singing and playing dance around the room to their melodies in very fine Ukrainian style, and without the least pause in their playing, can bring a full glass of wine placed on the Pandor to their mouth and drink from it. They are always distinguished in their dress from the other servants in the aristocratic houses, not going about in French or German attire, like the others, but in long and light Ukrainian clothes, with slashed and dangling sleeves to their overcoats, like those of the Poles, the front panels of which they always gather up and tuck into their sashes when they are playing and dancing.

I notice, that over at least the last twenty years in the houses of the prominent nobility in Russia these Pandorists and merrymakers are ever more in decline, just as finer taste on the Clavier, the violin, the flute and the horn, and fondness for Italian music in general take hold, as I shall describe further below.

Stählin then goes on to describe the Gusli, a folk psaltery (liegende Harfe) before resuming his account of the development of music in Russia in the eighteenth century. The most striking point about this passage in the present context is that Stählin describes a lute-like instrument apparently similar to the German mandora,^[28]For what it is worth, a modern Ukrainian/English dictionary gives the following definition: Бандура f. Mus. bandura (an instrument); mandora; species of potato; clumsy (inert) man’. … Continue reading rather than the earlier form of the surviving Ukrainian bandura, which is well documented from the early nineteenth century as an instrument broadly resembling the lute, but with a large, almost circular body carrying many diatonically-tuned strings somewhat in the manner of the psaltery.^[29]In the later nineteenth century, and in its current form, the bandura is chromatically tuned. A photograph of the modern banduracan be seen in NGDMI 1984, I, p. 148: ‘Bandura’.

Further confusion is thrown on the matter by the existence of other Ukrainian lute-related instruments such as the kobza and the torbán. The latter instrument is normally assumed today to have been a kind of variant bandura, but it may have had a more independent existence in the eighteenth century:^[30]Kubijovyc 1971, II, p.595; article in English by W. Wytwycky

The theorbo, an instrument which was similar to the lute and which was popularly called the ’aristocrat’s bandura,’ was widespread among the Ukrainian nobility and Kozak officers.

Perhaps the instrument played by Bielogradsky and others in the grand town-villas of the music-loving Russian aristocracy was indeed this ‘aristocrat’s bandura’.^[31]Wytwycky uses the word ‘theorbo’ to translate ‘torban’ elsewhere in his article, loc. cit. However, the matter cannot be pursued in any further detail here. Stählin’s identification of the ‘Pandor’ as the ‘half lute’ at least suggests that it was a fingerboard-stopped instrument like the lute proper, whereas the multi-strung bandura, even in the old diatonic form as played by the famous blind wandering minstrel of the next century, Ostap Veresai (1803-90), would have demanded a very different technique, all the strings being played without stopping with the left hand.

(There are some 19th-century [?] paintings of Cossacks playing lute-like instruments, identified today as ‘Kobzas’, presumably by analogy with the extant Romanian lute of that name. How similar these are to Stëlin’s ‘half lute’ may be judged from the samples here.)

Stählin tells us that Count Kayserling took Bielogradsky with him to Dresden from Russia. Hermann Karl, Baron Keyserling (or Keyserlingk) (1696-1764) was President of the recently-founded Imperial Academy of Sciences at St Petersburg, and was an active music-lover and supporter of the arts. In December 1733 he took up his post in Dresden as Russian Imperial Ambassador to the Polish and Saxon courts and was eventually created Count by the Polish King and Elector of Saxony in 1741. Keyserling is best known to music history as a patron of J.S. Bach. He acted as intermediary in Bach’s appointment as Hof-Komponist to the Dresden court in 1736. Bach’s ‘Goldberg’ Variations BWV988 were composed in 1741 for performance by Keyserling’s harpsichordist, J.G. Goldberg.

A later biographical reference places Bielogradsky in Berlin in 1737.^[32]Eitner QL, i, pp. 421, citing the anonymous Biographen einiger Tonkünstler (Frankfurt and Leipzig, 1790), p. 17. We do not know if Bielogradsky was still in Keyserling’s service at this time, but his reputation was clearly spreading. In Berlin, he seems to have begun his activities as a lute teacher. In 1735 the East Prussian Count Truchsess-Walburg, on one of his frequent trips from Königsberg, brought to Berlin a young musical servant. Johann Reichardt (1720-80), who became a lutenist of distinction, was himself the father of the famous composer and writer on music, Johann Friedrich Reichardt. Under the patronage of Count Truchsess the elder Reichardt began his formal musical training with violin lessons from a pupil of Franz Benda, and lute lessons, as his son’s memoirs tell us, from ‘eine Russe Pelegrazki’.^[33]J. F. Reichardt, ‘Autobiographie’, in Berlin Musicalische Zeitung, 55 (1805), p. 214; see also H. Güttler, ’Johann Reichardt, ein Preussischer Lautenist’, in Congress Report of the Société … Continue reading Through Reichardt’s later activities as a lutenist and teacher there grew up a significant Königsberg school of lute playing. Bielogradsky was held in much the same esteem in the East Prussian capital as was his own teacher, S.L. Weiss, and his son Johann Adolf Faustinus Weiss, who spent at least seven years in Königsberg in the 1750s.^[34]See Neeman 1939, pp. 173-7. Müller-Blattau 1931 cites a long poem entitled ‘Die Laute’, by J.F. Lauson (Zweeten Versuch in Gedichten, 1754, pp. 137V.), in which reference is made to a circle of … Continue reading Bielogradsky’s name lived on until the 1840s in German musical dictionaries; in 1841 he was referred to as ‘one of the esteemed lutenists of the instrument’s last period’.^[35]Allgemeine Encyklopaedie 1841: ‘[Bielogradsky] gehört … zu den geschätzten Lautenisten der letzten Zeit fur dieses Instrument’; see also Schilling 1840.

Bielogradsky’s 1739 appointment at the Russian Court, where he may have been already well known, even employed, as a bandurist, was at first short-lived, since Czarina Anna Ivanovna died in the following year. During the long period of mourning and political instability that followed (the heir apparent, the infant Ivan VI, was murdered in 1741) several court musicians, including Bielogradsky, were employed at Dresden by Count Brühl, the corrupt Prime Minister to the Polish King and Saxon Elector, Friedrich August II.^[36]Stählin 1770, p. 92: ’Nach dem Ableben der Kaiserin Anna (im Octob. 1740.) geriet die Musik am Hofe, das ganze Trauer Jar über, wie vieles andre, in einen Stillstand. Verschiedene von den … Continue reading Count Heinrich von Brühl (1700-63) is infamous in German history for draining the financial resources of Saxony at a critical point in its history in order to enrich himself and tighten his personal control over the Elector. It was said that his own personal household was far more magnificent than that of the Elector himself, and that he employed over 200 servants. Whether Bielogradsky remained in Dresden for longer than the year of official mourning is unknown, but undoubtedly he resumed contact with Weiss, and it was probably at this time that he worked professionally with the singers Annabili and Faustina.

Bielogradsky was back in the service of Czarina Elizaveta Petrovna at her accession in 1741, or at least soon afterwards. It seems that he remained in constant royal favour for three decades from his appointment in 1739. In 1767 he retired, and Catherine the Great altogether exceptionally granted him a pension of 1000 roubles, and heating expenses of 500 roubles, as well as free use of a coach belonging to the Court.^[37]Mooser 1948, p. 210 and Mooser 1951, p. 67. As Stählin refers to Bielogradsky in the present tense in his 1770 account of his playing,^[38]Stählin’s preface is dated Spring 1769.(Stählin 1770, p. 43.) we can suppose that his comfortable retirement lasted into the new decade.

Apart from Bielogradsky another lutenist had been employed by the Russian Court in the late 1740s. Ivan Stepanovich is recorded as entering royal service in October 1746, having recently returned from Saxony.^[39]Mooser 1948, p. 210, fn. 6, citing a document from Russian Imperial archives, the Journal du fourrier de la chambre (1748). Mooser speculates, reasonably, that Stepanovich, like Bielogradsky before him, was a pupil of Weiss in Dresden, although there is no further documentary evidence of this. It is interesting to note that in 1748 not only were the two lutenists, Bielogradsky and Stepanovich, employed at the Russian Court, on a salary of 500 roubles each, but there were in addition three more modestly-paid bandurists, who between them earned only 340 roubles.^[40]Mooser 1948, loc. cit. The German 13-course lute may have been regarded as a kind of ‘bridge’ between the bandura, the folk instrument beloved of Polish, Ukrainian and Russian aristocrats, and the more ‘courtly’ Western music that was increasingly ousting it in popularity. Perhaps it is even possible that the lute had some influence on the later development of the construction of the Ukrainian bandura? But such interesting questions are far beyond the scope of this study.

Much work remains to be done on the history of the lute and other plucked-string instruments in Russia and Eastern Europe in general. Undoubtedly there were many other players in the later eighteenth century, both professional and amateur. With the limited resources available I have only uncovered one further reference to the lute. Stählin describes the court performance of Domenico Dalloglio’s setting of La Russia aflitta e rinconsolata, Stählin’s prologue to Hasse’s La Clemenza di Tito, which was given during the celebrations following Elizaveta Petrovna’s coronation in Moscow in 1742. The expression of the musical passions in Dalloglio’s setting was so effective, according to the proud librettist, that^[41]Stählin 1770, pp. 93-4: bey der Aufführung dasselben, zumal bei der mit einer starcken Laute von dem Secretär Spitz, und einer sanften Travers-Flöte accompagnirten Aria der Ruthenia, ah! miei … Continue reading

at the performance of the same, particularly in Ruthenia’s aria, ah! miei figli, &c., accompanied by a loud lute played by Secretary Spitz and a gentle flute, the sensitive Czarina herself could not hold back her tears.

Bielogradsky’s career has been explored here in some detail. He was an artist of international repute and was known as a lute teacher, but it must be stressed that although it was a reasonable guess that the Moscow MS was written by him,^[42]As suggested by Boetticher 1978, p. 215 and cautiously accepted by Arnautova, p. 532. It has been suggested to me that Bielogradsky was likely, as a bandurist, to have been illiterate. (Personal … Continue reading) or under his direction, there were several others, including Ivan Stepanovich and, perhaps, Secretary Spitz, who could have compiled such a collection. The music could have been partially or wholly copied from a source in Bielogradsky’s or another player’s possession, or, less likely given its general level of accuracy, copied out from memory by a visiting player. It was certainly not begun before Bielogradsky’s last working years: the paper suggests a terminus post quem of 1768, the year after his retirement. Bielogradsky could, of course, be the composer of the pieces in the MS that seem to be in the style of a follower or pupil of Weiss, rather than by the great Dresden lutenist himself. Unfortunately we have no documentary evidence that gives us any information about Bielogradsky’s activities as a composer, or even whether he attempted composition. Undoubtedly he was an accomplished improviser, as was his great teacher, but Stählin suggests that he made his reputation as an interpreter of Weiss’s music.

An alternative scenario, pure speculation owing to the defacement of the original title-page, is that the ‘maitre’ referred to there was a visiting member of the Königsberg school of lute players founded by Bielogradsky’s pupil, Reichardt, and to which Weiss’s son Johann Adolf Faustinus belonged in the 1750s.^[43]See Neeman 1939, pp. 173-7. Stretching a semantic point perhaps beyond its limits, it could possibly be argued that since the Christian name of ‘Mr Weiss in Dresden’ is not given, it could also refer to J.A.F. Weiss as well as to his father; Johann Adolf Faustinus returned to Dresden around 1760 and was formally appointed as Hof-Lautenist in his father’s place in 1763.^[44]Neeman 1939, loc. cit. This might better explain the stylistic incongruity in the MS between the 31 pieces on the one hand undoubtedly by Silvius Weiss himself, either in partitas explicitly so … Continue reading Unfortunately, the bulk of his own lute music was lost in the destruction of Königsberg during World War II, so there is little basis for a stylistic comparison that might confirm this speculation as a serious possibility.^[45]Pieces in a not dissimilar ‘Weiss-imitation’ style, at first glance very like Silvius Leopold’s own, can be found in Strasbourg, a manuscript long associated with the Baltic city of Riga, in … Continue reading)

Back to top

The music

The tablature of the Moscow Weiss MS is for the 13-course baroque lute, as used by Silvius Leopold Weiss after about 1720. The six basic stopped courses (pairs of strings) of the instrument are tuned to a D-minor chord: f´ d´ a f d A. Courses 1 and 2 consist of single strings; courses 3 to 5 are unison pairs and course 6 has one string tuned at the higher octave. Courses 7 to 13 are a series of octave-paired courses tuned in a diatonic octave descending to AA.

The diatonic octave of basses is the outstanding characteristic feature of the lute at this period, and it requires adjustment for playing in different keys. Normally the diatonic tuning is that of the key of the piece. In a few pieces in this MS (9, in D major; 30, in F minor; 47, in D minor) the tuning of the basses is that of a different mode from the key (D minor, F major and D major, respectively); in each case, however, the tuning is that of the preceding piece, following the normal practice of baroque lute manuscripts.

In most respects, the tablature of the Moscow Weiss manuscript is relatively unproblematic. It is clearly written, without major alterations and errors. Fingering indications for the left hand are present in 30 out of the 48 pieces. This suggests a didactic purpose for the manuscript, which was probably written out by a lute teacher for his aristocratic pupil. Arnautova’s article on the MS quotes the opinion of Alexander Suetin of the music:^[46]Arnautova, p. 532. (translation by Matanya Ophee).

Upon analyzing the music of the manuscript, A[lexander] Suetin believed that, without doubt, all the pieces are by Weiss, and most of them are in the Dresden Weiss manuscript. The sequence of the pieces in suites, however, was not according to Weiss’ order, but according to the taste of the author of this manuscript. The individuality of the author-copyist manifests itself in the chosen sequence of the dances, [and] their arrangement in micro-cycles by tonality, character and musical manner. All the chosen pieces are rather difficult technically ; and often even virtuosic, bright, and effective in their musical material and certainly could have been performed during court musical entertainments. Besides the pieces, the manuscript includes scales and technical exercises, which are also quite difficult and clearly intended not for a beginner, but for a high-level professional.

This description of the music is somewhat misleading: only five out of 48 pieces are also found in Dresden, and none appear in the same suite, so no definitive statement about change of order can be made. However, as I have pointed out in the note to No. 45, Weiss’s normal position for a Menuet is immediately preceding the final Presto of a sonata, rather than after it, as here. On the other hand, in many if not most of the sonatas in Dresden the menuets are indeed placed in the same position as number 46 in this MS, often with a note to indicate the correct order of performance. Large-scale planning of keys or tunings is not an obvious feature of this MS, as it is of Dresden, which was carefully assembled into a collection of volumes (originally bound otherwise) each of which requires a single tuning of the basses.

Many of the pieces are definitely virtuosic in character, but this does not necessarily suggest they are intended for professional performance, rather the reverse, as is surely the case with the scales and ‘technical studies’ that are not identified by Arnautova. (Although I have been unable to find any literature on the topic, scales do not seem to have been used as a technical velocity exercise until well into the nineteenth century; more likely, these scales, passing through the entire circle of fifths as they do, are intended to demonstrate that the lute could indeed play in any key, as was well-established for keyboard instruments by the late 1760s.)

In one respect the manuscript is organised by key: there are 3 large-scale ‘Partittas’ ascribed to Weiss: Nos. 14-18, unique to this MS but probably incomplete, since there is no sarabande or minuet; 21-26, marked ‘Finis’ at the end (f. 11); 41-46, numbered 1-6 in the MS, probably because of the interpolation of two pieces in another key (here moved before the sonata and numbered 39 and 40 to avoid interrupting the sequence). Another partita (34-38), which is not attributed to Weiss in the MS, has the word ‘finis’ after the last movement. As well as complete sonatas or partitas there are also a number of pieces that are assembled together into key/tuning-groups but clearly do not make up complete sonatas: 1-8; 12-13, 19-20, 28-30 (although 30 is in F minor, it uses the normal F major tuning). It is particularly unfortunate that the complete sonatas originally containing the magnificent D major Courente, No. 20, and the formidable B flat Presto, No. 33, are apparently lost.

The fact that the partita, Nos. 34-38, is not ascribed to Weiss in the MS, whereas the other three are clearly so labelled, should alert us to the possibility that it might be by another composer. There is a definite stylistic difference between these pieces and the mature music of Weiss. Among other movements of doubtful authorship, the Menuett in D major (9) stands out as being in a style completely foreign to that of Weiss, and is clearly the work of a member of a later generation.

In fact, on closer examination, it is necessary to devise a ‘ranking’ scheme for the attribution of the works in this manuscript. While the fine distinctions between doubtful categories are very subjective, I hope that this scheme, used in the edition, will be helpful:

Styles of ascription in the Inventory, in order of descending confidence

1. works certainly by Weiss that are verifiable by concordance with unquestionably authentic versions: ‘Silvius Leopold Weiss’;
2. works probably by Weiss that also exist in versions whose ascription can reasonably be relied upon: ‘S.L. Weiss’;
3. works undoubtedly in Weiss’s style but without the confirmation of concordant sources: ‘Weiss’
4. works that are possibly by Weiss but exhibit puzzling or inconsistent stylistic features: ‘Weiss?’
5. works whose style is not sufficiently characterised to make any judgement or possibly by another composer imitating Weiss’s style: [no designation]
6. works that are incompatible with Weiss’s style: ‘Not by Weiss?’

There is one idiosyncratic feature of the readings in this manuscript which is puzzling. In 13 of the pieces (1, 4, 7, 11, 27, 28, 31, 33, 39, 40, 43, 47 and 48) occurs the highly unusual interval of the augmented 2nd, always used in a downward-moving melodic context in the minor mode. While the characteristic use of this interval in ‘gypsy’ music seems to date from about the period of this MS, it is probably more relevant to note that the interval is said to be a feature of Ukrainian folk music.^[47]A fact pointed out to me by Tatiana Baranova in 1990; see Waldmann 1963, col. 1132 and ex. 7, facing cols 1135-6. While it is not unknown elsewhere in Weiss’s music, the pieces containing it in this MS that also survive elsewhere consistently use a ‘normal’ second in the other sources (see notes to 1, 28, 29, 47 and 48). This suggests that the music was in fact altered by the scribe,^[48]Note that one instance actually remained unaltered; see Note to No. 48. who may indeed have been a Ukrainian musician. (To preserve the ‘flavour’ of the source, however, in the edition these ‘Ukrainian’ augmented 2nds have all been retained as they appear in the MS.)

Back to top

Ornamentation and Technical signs

As stated above, the tablature of the MS is unproblematic. The only unusual habit of the scribe is the use of a tiny line vertically placed between the members of a chord to be played ensemble, so tiny that it often looks more like a dot. This should not be confused with the normal dot indicating the use of the first finger of the right hand; in fact right-hand fingering dots are not present, only the thumb being marked with the usual short vertical stroke. Whether this reflects a change in playing techniques in this late period, or was merely felt to be unecessary, is unclear. Note also that there is no use of the oblique slash to indicate ‘separée’ playing of a chord.

Otherwise, the scribe used the following conventional signs for ornamentation:

[ a) ] Abzug (backfall) or Trillo, depending on context;

[ (c ] Einfall (forefall).

The sign for an Abzug (backfall) is used conventionally here in contexts where a trill might be thought more appropriate: this was not unusual in eighteenth-century MSS which in general make the distinction less clear than we might expect. What does appear more often than usual is the repetition of the Abzug sign to indicate an extended trill: again this tends to appear mostly in sources of the late Baroque period.

Back to top