Intégral 31 (2017) pp. 63–89 Mozart's Vintage Corelli: The Microstory of a Fonte-Romanesca by Vasili Byros Abstract. This article traces a brief history of a schema from Corelli to Mozart, here designated the Fonte-Romanesca, in order to clarify certain foundational principles in schema theory’s conception of a model, particularly as it relates to the creative act. Models are not theoretical abstractions, but cultural artifacts that inform the compositional process through (near-)literal copy, (creative) imitation, variation, and problem solving—both combinatorially and developmentally. Such a re-evaluation of schema theory is simultaneously an opportunity to reflect on larger disciplinary changes surrounding the study of music from the long eighteenth century over the last few decades. Keywords and phrases: Schema theory, Mozart, Corelli, Fonte-Romanesca, composition. [Niketas:] “I am a writer of histories. Sooner or later I will have to set myself to putting down the record of the last days of Byzantium. Where will I put the story Baudolino told me?” … [Paphnutius:] “Strike Baudolino from your story. . . . It won’t cost you much to alter events slightly; you will say you were helped by some Venetians. Yes, I know, it’s not the truth, but in a great history little truths can be altered so that the greater truth emerges.” —Umberto Eco, Baudolino (2000) T he Mozart family’s first of three Italian sojourns (1769–1771) brought a number of momentous occasions for the young Wolfgang. In Corelli’s Rome, Mozart earned the admiration of no less a personage than Pope Clement XIV, and that for an offense otherwise punishable by excommunication: pirating the “Miserere” of Gregorio Allegri (1582–1652), whose performance was restricted to the Sistine Chapel on Holy Wednesday and Good Friday.1 So impressed was the Roman Pontiff with Wolfgang’s 1 Anderson (1985, Letter No. 87, 14 April 1770). ability to take down the ultimately nine-part counterpoint from memory on two hearings, that on 8 July 1770 he bestowed him with the oldest Papal order of knighthood: the Order of the Golden Spur.2 When the Mozarts continued to Bologna later that year, Wolfgang, now “Chevalier de Mozart,”3 met and studied with Padre Martini. There too, the young Mozart garnered an accolade with further concessions from his seniors. On 9 October he was examined for membership in Bologna’s prestigious Accademia Filarmonica, even though candidates had to be at least twenty years old.4 Possibly under Martini’s influence, Mozart was successfully admitted to the same institution that had inducted Corelli, its most illustrious member, 100 years earlier, and just four years after its founding in 1666.5 Mozart’s 2 Anderson (1985, Letter Nos. 101–102a). In a letter dated 7 July 1770 to his sister, Mozart signed himself “Chevalier de Mozart”: word of his being knighted had already reached Leopold and Wolfgang (when in Rome) by early July, and was confirmed on 5 July (Anderson 1985, Letter Nos. 101–102a). 4 Anderson (1985, Letter No. 117, 20 October 1770). 5 Allsop (1999, 4, 14–17). In December 1770, Mozart would also be 3 63 Intégral 31 (2017) entrance examination consisted of a four-part harmonization of the antiphon “Quaerite primum regnum Dei,” K. 86 (73v), in the stile osservato (strict style), with the antiphon melody functioning as a cantus firmus in the bass. Example 1 reproduces his solution. Though successful, the galant-trained fourteen-year-old was nonetheless out of his element in the osservato idiom. In the Academy’s minutes, the exam “was judged sufficient considering the circumstances,”6 and his teacher Padre Martini later provided a correction in the form of a second version. A copy of this revision in Wolfgang’s own hand accompanied him on the return to Salzburg (see Example 2).7 Martini’s version, as noted in the critical report of the Neue Mozart Ausgabe,8 is less a revision than a complete reworking of Mozart’s solution. Whereas the student offers a partly galant interpretation of the stile antico, his teacher adheres to it faithfully. Indeed Martini’s “correction” may have emerged from a later lesson with Mozart in the rules of strict counterpoint (thus the copy in Mozart’s hand). Among the infelicities cited in the NMA’s critical report is Mozart’s use of melodic sequences at mm. 3–4, 13–14, and 18–19.9 But if the examination suffers from stylistic imperfections, it was also completed with great facility. As Leopold reports, whereas other candidates would take three hours to harmonize the antiphon, Wolfgang needed “less than half an hour,” which is corroborated by the Academy’s register.10 The musical knowledge that enabled this facility is presumably that same know-how which enabled Mozart to dictate the “Miserere” on two hearings. That his cognitive and musical gifts were extraordinary is unquestionable, but young Wolfgang’s Italian feats were also the results of a musical craft. Today, it is squarely within music theory’s epistemological remit to conceptualize this know-how. In early December 2016, while Chicago was still basking in the celebration of the first Cubs World Series win in 108 years, I was wrapping up a seminar at Northwestern University titled “Schemas, Concepts, and Creativity,” which, in part, was an exercise in how craft-oriented music theories (schemata, partimenti, and the like) might engage creativity studies—in particular, creative cognition. The proposal for a admitted to the Accademia Filarmonica of Verona (Anderson 1985, Letter No. 130, 12 January 1771). 6 Verbali dell’Accademia Filamornica, Libro III: “riguardo alle circostanze di esso lui è stato giudicato sufficiente.” Cited in Mantovani (1901, 590). Translated in Gutman (1999, 284) and Abert (2007, 140n91). 7 For a colorful account of these events, see Gutman (1999, 280–284). Facsimiles of both Mozart’s and Martini’s versions are printed in the Neue Mozart Ausgabe, I:3, Appendix, 264–266. 8 Federhofer (1964, 39–42). 9 Ibid., 41. 10 Anderson (1985, Letter No. 117, 20 October 1770); Köchel (1964, 112). 64 pre-organized session at EuroMAC 2017, in Strasbourg, France, titled “Analyzing Models and Creativity in the Long Eighteenth Century,” had been submitted two weeks earlier.11 I was thinking deeply about models, as they apply to music as well as other domains. For example, the drastic transformation of the baseball landscape in Chicago during this time offered certain surprising analogies with the discipline of music theory, specifically as it relates to the long eighteenth century. The Cubs, after all, broke the Curse of the Billy Goat in no small measure because their President of Baseball Operations, Theo Epstein, brought to the Windy City the model he formulated in Boston, which had already garnered two World Series victories and broke the Curse of the Bambino. Through a creative combination of new-school sabermetrics, old-school scouting and internal player development, strategic use of free agency, teamsmanship, and empathy, in just over five years Epstein accomplished in Chicago what others (many of whom simply threw money at the problem) could not for more than a century. He systematically tore down the entire organization, and built it anew according to this model, now known as “The Cubs Way.”12 Perhaps nothing in humanities strains of academia could achieve anything remotely as dramatic. And yet, where studies of eighteenth-century music are concerned, I believe we are currently witnessing a similarly revolutionary paradigm shift. It was also in the first week of December 2016 that the editors of Intégral invited me to engage Christopher Wintle’s article from 1982, “Corelli’s Tonal Models,” from the perspective of schema theory, in an essay to accompany its reprint in this issue. Like the editors, I was intrigued by Wintle’s “concentration upon the workbench methods of the composer” (32), and its allusions to the very kinds of craft-oriented arguments and knowhow formulations made in schema-theoretic studies of the last decade: “Corelli’s oeuvre is founded upon a fairly limited number of musical figures, or models, which are capable of sustaining a considerable variety of modes of presentation” (32). Taken out of context, a reader might believe this passage was from Robert Gjerdingen’s Music in the Galant Style (hereafter MGS). Compare Wintle’s to Gjerdingen’s précis in MGS: “a hallmark of the galant style was a particular repertory of stock musical phrases employed in conventional sequences...[and] along various semantic axes—light/heavy, comic/serious, sensitive/bravura, and so on. . . . The galant composer lived the life of a musical craftsman, of an artisan who produced a large quantity of music...[that] is replete with compulsory...‘figures.’ ”13 But 11 The speakers included Robert Gjerdingen, Giorgio Sanguinetti, Nicholas Baragwanath, Peter van Tour, and myself. 12 Verducci (2017). 13 Gjerdingen (2007, 6–7). Byros  Mozart’s Vintage Corelli: The Microstory of a Fonte-Romanesca Example 1. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, “Quaerite primum regnum Dei,” Antiphon for Soprano, Alto, Tenor, and Bass, K. 86 (73v; 1770) [Quaerite-1]. 65 Intégral 31 (2017) Example 2. “Quaerite primum regnum Dei,” corrected version by Padre Martini (1770) [Quaerite-2]. 66 Byros  Mozart’s Vintage Corelli: The Microstory of a Fonte-Romanesca Wintle was writing in 1982, at a time when a seminar in music theory dealing with “Schemas, Concepts, and Creativity” was as unlikely as a Cubs World Series victory. In closing a review article on MGS, I suggested that Gjerdingen’s tome “carries the potential to change the face of a research discipline.”14 A reprinting and response to Wintle’s essay, on the ten-year anniversary of Music in the Galant Style, might allow these words to ring true in the ears of some readers. “Corelli’s Tonal Models” is listed in David Carson Berry’s A Topical Guide to Schenkerian Literature (2004) for good reason. Its substance would ultimately be better served by “Schenker’s Models in Corelli” as a title. The models consist of Ursatz parallelisms, complete with “divided forms of the progression” (interrupted Ursatz transforms), as well as its incomplete forms, the so-called “auxiliary cadence.”15 In the end, any analogies to schema theory are nothing more than superficial coincidences. To be sure, in his conclusion, Wintle appears once more to offer something that resembles schemata: “This paper has presented the simplest elements of Corelli’s musical language in the form of a number of concrete models” (44). But the differences pivot on the words that follow. These models, we are told, “all...relate back to the cadential progression” (44). Though “progression” and “cadential progression” are relatively neutral or generic terms in themselves, Wintle defines them as middleground or foreground projections of the Urlinie and Ursatz. He does so both explicitly and indirectly, through copious citations to Schenker’s Free Composition ([1935] 1979). When he asserts that “Corelli’s music is centrally, and directly, ‘about’ cadential progressions” (35), one is meant to understand it is centrally and directly “about” the Ursatz. As Wintle himself puts it, “all this [the cadential progression], of course, reproduces the substance of Schenker’s Ursatz” (35). More recently, in his companion piece “Corelli’s Rhythmic Models,” also printed in this issue, Wintle himself characterizes the earlier essay as “essentially Schenkerian” (51). And though he now interprets his previous use of “Schenkerian progressions” as “resolutely ‘bottom up’ ” (51), in the 1980s, he nonetheless concluded that “the elaboration of these models [that is, the Ursatz parallelisms]...provides the stuff of Corelli’s music” (my emphasis) (44). This argument is summarized in Wintle’s graphic analysis of the Grave from Op. 3, No. 1, which encompasses his Examples 6–10. These respectively derive mm. 1–4, 14–17, 17–19, 5–8, and 8–12 of the Grave from Ursatz transforms. Now it is neither my place nor my intention to stipulate whether a Schenkerian interpretation of Corelli’s music (whether bottom-up or top-down) is a legitimate or worthwhile undertaking in general. “Music theory” in 2017 means and does many different things in a multitude of ways. Along these lines, I continue to believe that revisiting some of Schenker’s ideas—not the institution of Schenkerian analysis—in light of recent schema theory would bear fruit. But the idea that a Corelli’s or a Mozart’s workbench method was to proceed generatively from an abstraction like the Ursatz, would, in 2017, be an unacceptable proposition, by misrepresenting the concept of a model as it relates to musical know-how. What Gjerdingen did for eighteenthcentury music analysis is not unlike what Theo Epstein did for the Cubs. MGS effectively tore down the institution in order to build it anew, with schemata as the foundation: eighteenth-century music “The Schema Way.” To reread Schenkerian discussions of “models” from the ’80s and ’90s as being like-minded with schema theory is to misunderstand MGS’s greatest contribution. And that is nothing other than a reconstruction of the eighteenth-century artisanal mindset. There are profound implications here for understanding the creative process that underlies not only the music of Kleinmeister, but the “workhorses” as well.16 The differences between Wintle’s and Gjerdingen’s approaches to a seemingly similar problem (that of musical craft) are, further, the result of larger disciplinary tides. Gjerdingen did not single-handedly change the game. It was Leonard Meyer who started the whole business of schema theory in music,17 and parallel ideas have concurrently emerged or become more vocal in Europe, for example at the Schola Cantorum in Basel, the Hochschule für Musik Freiburg, and the Amsterdam Conservatory. In short, Wintle’s process, even when entertaining a workbench method in 1982, exhibits the kind of macrotheoretic thinking that was current at the time, which contrasts with the microtheoretic prospects that have commanded not only MGS but recent studies of eighteenth-century music more broadly. This macro- versus microtheoretic binary was the theme of a response paper I gave at the “Form and Schemata” session of the Society for Music Theory’s 2015 meeting in St. Louis, titled “On the Theories of EighteenthCentury Music,” which developed some ideas from my review article on MGS.18 The core of that response paper began from a disciplinary assessment that Giorgio Sanguinetti made in an editorial published in EighteenthCentury Music in 2014. He speaks of the recent arrival of a 16 14 Byros (2012b, 122). 15 Burstein (2005). Gjerdingen (2010). Byros (2012a). 18 Byros (2015c; 2012b). 17 67 Intégral 31 (2017) multifaceted and un-unified “new theory,” which consists of schemata, their German equivalent Satzmodelle, and Italian and Austrian partimento traditions, the latter known as partitura.19 Though these areas are as-yet not systematically unified, I suggested, in a rather whimsical manner appropriate for a Friday evening, that the various facets of this “new theory” collectively overthrew the presiding Kingdom of eighteenth-century music analysis: [I]magine, if you will, that this map [of Europe] represents the music of the long eighteenth century. It was once the dominion of The United Kingdom of Great Schenker [Example 3a]. For a time, Schenkerian theory, broadly construed, influenced nearly every facet of eighteenth-century music analysis; and in some ways continues to do so. But in recent decades, the territory has gradually been reoccupied by a group of small, relatively independent nation-states. In addition to Schemata-Satzmodelleburg, Partimentalia, and Partiturich, these nation-states of eighteenthcentury music also include Formenlehreland and Topospfalz [Example 3b]. Together, the lexicons, taxonomies, and methodologies of these theories have come to define the broader discourse or, rather, the new discourses of eighteenth-century studies. Despite their superficial differences, the denizens of these nation-states do speak a methodological lingua franca. These are all microtheories, which differ from their macro forms in important ways. For one thing, macrotheories are prone to high levels of generalization. They tend to be abstract and rule-based. This allows them to have wide explanatory power: in terms of the musical objects they analyze, they have a historically and potentially also geographically broad compass. Microtheories, on the other hand, are more concrete and specific in their categorial definitions. They’re more idiom-based or exemplar-based, and therefore have a more circumscribed historical and possibly also geographical ambit. Macrotheories are also methodologically efficient and economical, while microtheories are laborious and expensive—for example, they draw on corpus analysis. Recent schema theory, Formenlehre, partimento studies, and topic theory all exhibit such microtheoretic traits. So the dissolution of the Kingdom into a small group of nation-states is actually the result of a broader unified trend—what might be characterized as a push toward microtheoretic thinking and methodologies.20 A citizen myself of all of these nation-states, having published in schema theory, Formenlehre, topic theory, partimenti, and on their intersections,21 I, along with the denizens of Schemata-Satzmodelleburg, hear and see in the 19 measures of the Grave from Corelli’s Op. 3, No. 1 not the elaboration of a single abstraction, but numerous familiar formulas: no fewer than the 13 models displayed in Example 4. Their familiarity results from their widespread replication and highly varied combination within Corelli’s music, that of his predecessors, contemporaries, and successors. The names of the models in Example 4 derive from numerous sources, not only MGS, but also historical documents including Italian partimenti,22 Johann Gottfried Walther’s Praecepta der musikalischen Composition (1955) and Musicalisches Lexicon (1732), and the Vorschriften ([1738] 1994) of his cousin and close friend, J. S. Bach. But ultimately the names are inconsequential. As Marc Perlman’s study of Javanese court music revealed so powerfully, musicians within the same culture will explicate their tacit practices differently. It is the act of “explicitation”23 itself that calls attention to something much more crucial: namely, “replicated patterning,” Meyer’s befitting description of the cognitive, social, and cultural behaviors of musicians in a specific time and place.24 The New Millennium witnessed the arrival of an international movement—a “new theory,” if you will—which has reoriented music analysis to the description and explanation of cognitive and socio-cultural human activity, with models or schemata occupying center stage. From a microtheoretic perspective, these models, qua exemplars, and their creative combination and realization in the styles, genres, and topics25 of the period—which are themselves models—are the workbench stuff of Corelli’s music. When the Mozarts visited Italy, it was not merely to promote Wolfgang’s musical gifts but to walk in the footsteps of tradition where he may further develop and refine his craft by acquiring more of this “stuff.” While in Turin, father and son met Giovanni Paisiello (1740–1816) and the violinist Gaetano Pugnani (1731–1798). The latter studied with the founder of the Piedmontese Violin School, Giovanni Battista Somis (1686–1763), who was Corelli’s student. Whether it was during the three Italian visits, or through close study of Corelli’s widely published trio sonatas, Mozart would acquire a great deal of know-how from the Roman master. We see Mozart already using this in his “Quaerite” harmonization. However incorrect in the osservato idiom, its faulty sequences and other galant features offer a powerful glimpse into the inner workings of his still-developing musical craft and mind. When devising a solution for mm. 3–5, 13–15, and 18–20, Wolfgang availed himself of an everyday musical model. The sequences to which the NMA refers occur over a 7–6 suspension variant of what Gjerdingen calls a Prinner schema: parallel tenths between the bass and an upper part, moving ➃➂➁➀ and ➏➎➍➌ respectively, and a third part forming 7–6 suspensions with the bass throughout. Mozart used this 7–6 Prinner each time the bass descends a tetrachord in the antiphon, at mm. 3–5, 13–15, and 18–20 (Examples 5a–5c). Though the baroque Corelli was born just over a century before the galant Mozart, Wolfgang’s solution 19 Sanguinetti (2014, 4). Byros (2015c). 21 Byros (2012a; 2012b; 2012c; 2013; 2014; 2015a; 2015b). 22 Sanguinetti (2012). 20 68 23 Perlman (2004, 24, 120, 207). Meyer (1989). 25 Mirka (2014). 24 Byros  Mozart’s Vintage Corelli: The Microstory of a Fonte-Romanesca Example 3. Institutions of Eighteenth-Century Music Analysis. 69 Intégral 31 (2017) Example 4. Models in Arcangelo Corelli, Trio Sonata in F major, Op. 3, No. 1, i, Grave (1689). forthree of the voices in these measures is a near notefor-note (transposed) copy of the passage shown in Example 5d, from the fifth of Corelli’s Op. 1 church sonatas. In all likelihood, it was not this specific passage Mozart had in mind, but one or more of countless others used in music of the century that separates the two composers, or otherwise an abstraction representing the sum total of instances he had encountered in the form of a schema.26 For what is a model, but a replica, copy, imitation, reproduction, prototype, template, framework, or pattern? One can imagine the fourteen-year-old locked in the antechamber of the Accademia Filarmonica, scrolling through his mental rolodex of patterns that feature a fa–mi–re–do bass, and settling upon the 7–6 Prinner, perhaps for its old-style connotations. At least in part, Mozart’s impressive facility resulted from a call to the familiar—to tradition. TheCen- sores, Kappellmeisters, and Compositores27 who examined the harmonization must have recognized that Wolfgang was already speaking their language, if imperfectly and with a more modern dialectic than the occasion called for: hence the qualification “sufficient considering the circumstances.” The young Mozart was likely deemed worthy of membership in the Accademia less because of the final result, than of the examination’s evidence of a process—an initiate’s workbench method. But the examiners’ qualification is significant, and for reasons that go beyond offenses specifically to the osservato style. In setting the 7–6 Prinner, Mozart adds a fourth part, the chain of melodic thirds to which his teacher Martini and the NMA report objected. The instrumental nature of the line, combined with the voice crossing, octave and unison doublings, and arpeggiation, make the soprano less an independent part than an orchestral accompaniment 26 I will not revisit here the cognitive and parametric aspects of a model or schema. See Byros (2012a) and Byros (2015b). 70 27 Anderson (1985, Letter No. 117, 20 October 1770). Byros  Mozart’s Vintage Corelli: The Microstory of a Fonte-Romanesca Example 4. (Continued). which stands in a more heterophonic—as opposed to polyphonic—relationship to the alto, tenor, and bass.28 Even for a galant or mid-eighteenth-century environment, the fourth part is less contrapuntal than it is accompanimental.29 It was only upon returning to his youthful exam in later years that Mozart would find an appropriate solution for harmonizing these tetrachords. In 2014, the Venetian scholar Umberto Baudolino discovered a previously unknown third version of the antiphon’s harmonization, hereafter Quaerite-3, in the 28 For an example of such orchestral heterophony, see below the passage from Mozart’s Keyboard Concerto in D minor, K. 466 (Example 13). The first violins play an elaborated form of the line in oboe 2, while the second violins play an elaborated form of the line in oboe 1. Whereas the relationship between the first and second violins and between the oboes is polyphonic, the relationship between the instrumental groups (violins and oboes) is heterophonic. They play two different versions of two lines, not four. 29 Good four-part solutions of the 7–6 sequence are few in number. See Bach ([1753–1762] 1949, 270–271). British Library.30 It had likely gone unnoticed because the antiphon melody is somewhat concealed. It is renotated and rebarred in common time; its incipit, unharmonized in Mozart’s exam, is omitted; the antiphon bass is itself embellished and occasionally chromatically altered; and the notation is in keyboard or short-score form, with no instrumentation specified. A complete transcription of Quaerite-3, along with my analytic annotations, is given in Example 6. An arrangement for strings may be heard at http://vasilibyros.com/quaerite3.html. The smaller noteheads in Example 6 indicate music that is unchanged from Quaerite-1, the version from 1770. This last detail, along with a number of other historical and documentary circumstances, suggest that Quaerite-3 is mature Mozart’s reworking of his youthful exam. The 12-stave paper on which it is written, in Mozart’s hand, bears the same watermark (73) as a manuscript of a pre30 Baudolino (2014). 71 Intégral 31 (2017) Example 5. 7–6 Prinner. viously unknown Mozart fugue (3 voices, in C major), which recently sold for £121,250 at Sotheby’s.31 Not only does the watermark date the paper to 1786, but the autograph for this fugue also contains an inscription signed by 31 http://www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/2012/musicand-continental-books-manuscripts/lot.80.html. Last accessed 15 April 2017. 72 Mozart’s student, Thomas Attwood (1765–1838): “A Fugue, as an example By Mozart—by way of Exercise given to Th.s Attwood 1785—presented to Dr Hague [Charles Hague, 1769–1821, professor of music at Cambridge] being in the Handwriting of Mozart. Th.s Attwood.” The leaf additionally contains a fugal exercise in Attwood’s hand with autograph corrections by Mozart, along with other student– teacher paraphernalia. Attwood began his studies with Byros  Mozart’s Vintage Corelli: The Microstory of a Fonte-Romanesca Example 6. “Quaerite primum regnum Dei,” version discovered by Umberto Baudolino (2014) in the British Library (c. 1785) [Quaerite-3]. Mozart in 1785, and Alan Tyson has identified watermark 73 among nine others in the folios of the British Library’s Attwood manuscript. Quaerite-3 itself may have been part of this instruction. But it may also reflect Mozart’s own studies in stile antico counterpoint. Bach “is the father, we are the children,” said Mozart of C. P. E. Bach, according to Friedrich Rochlitz, the editor of the Leipzig Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung.32 The statement may be apocryphal, as J. C. Bach- was a more obvious influence on Mozart’s earlier musical life. By 1782, however, the man whom C. P. E., J. C., and others called “Papa Bach” would become for Mozart, if not a second father, an Urvater, as Beethoven would later describe him in 1801.33 The 1780s for Mozart were a period of intense study of Bach and Handel’s music, introduced to him by the Baron Gottfried van Swieten (1733–1803). In one of many references to Swieten in the Mozart correspondence, Wolfgang writes: “I go every Sunday at twelve o’clock to the Baron van Swieten, where nothing is played 32 Rochlitz (1832, 309). Quoted and translated in Ottenberg (1987, 191). 33 Anderson (1961, Letter No. 44, 15 January 1801). 73 Intégral 31 (2017) Example 6. (Continued). but Handel and Bach. I am collecting at the moment the fugues of Bach—not only of Sebastian, but also of Emanuel and Friedemann. I am also collecting Handel’s.”34 J. S. Bach was a conspicuous model for Quaerite-3. Example 7a shows a paradigmatic four-part solution to the 7–6 Prinner, from Contrapunctus IV of The Art of Fugue. Example 7b reproduces Mozart’s 7–6 Prinner solution for mm. 37–40 of Quaerite-3. The latter is a direct copy of the former but with the (upper) parts inverted. Along with the 7–6 Prinner, the tonic organ point at the end of Quaerite-3 is a note-for-note copy, with a small embellishment in the tenor, of Bach’s pedal from Contrapunctus IV (not shown). Even Mozart’s approach to this reworking of his youthful effort reflects the heavily model-oriented nature of his creative process. For example, a few years later he would reuse significant portions of Handel’s music for his own Requiem. The Funeral Anthem for Queen Caroline, HWV 264 (1737) served as the basis for Mozart’s “Introitus,” and his “Kyrie” adopts both the fugue and countersubject from the closing chorus of Handel’s Dettingen Anthem, HWV 265 (1743).35 In mm. 7–10 and 27–30 of Quaerite-3, which correspond to mm. 3.5–5 and 13.5–15 of the original (Example 1), once again we see elements from Bach’s 7–6 Prinner in Contrapunctus IV. In fact, for both cases, three of 34 35 Anderson (1985, Letter No. 446, 10 April 1782). 74 See Wolff (1994). Byros  Mozart’s Vintage Corelli: The Microstory of a Fonte-Romanesca Example 6. (Continued). the lines from Bach’s model are preserved but transposed and inverted. In mm. 7–10, tenor, alto, and bass are transposed up a third. For mm. 27–30, the same transposition is used, but the voices swap: bass becomes soprano; tenor becomes alto; alto becomes bass. The greatest difference between Bach’s and Mozart’s settings lies in the new (and previously problematic) fourth part. Though Bach seems undoubtedly to have served as a model for Quaerite-3, the soprano (mm. 7–10) and tenor (mm. 27–30) lines derive from a thoroughly Corellian formula. The pattern, in mm. 7–10 and 27–30, is vintage Corelli, and became a beloved phrase of the mature Mozart. When Wolfgang and Leopold had toured Rome and then Bologna, they nearly literally retraced the steps of former Italian masters in reverse. The musical careers of Corelli (1653–1713) and his older contemporary, Alessandro Stradella (1639–1682), followed parallel paths from Bologna to Rome. Both studied in the former city, and then worked for Queen Christina of Sweden in the latter. The composition and performance histories of Stradella’s music are poorly documented, but payment records for an oratorio series in 1675 highlight the intersection of Stradella’s and Corelli’s musical lives. Referred to only as “Il Bolognese,” Corelli was enlisted to perform in the concerto grosso for Stradella’s oratorio San Giovanni Battista on 31 March.36 At some point during his encounters with Stradella’s music, Corelli would have heard the phrase designated “FonteRomanesca” in Example 8, from the sinfonia of Stradella’s 36 Gianturco (1994, 30); Allsop (1999, 27). 75 Intégral 31 (2017) Example 7. 7–6 Prinner. Example 8. Alessandro Stradella, Crocifissione e morte di N. S. Giesù Christo (c. 1670s), Sinfonia, mm. 7–10: Fonte-Romanesca. cantata, Crocifissione e morte di N. S. Giesù Christo. The core structure of the phrase consists of a sequencing of a clausula cantizans variant (or soprano cadence), so named by Walther, not only Bach’s cousin and friend but also a known student of Italian music who also transcribed Italian concertos for organ.37 This cantizans variant carries a ➅➆➀ bass with ➍➌ (or ➎➍➌) typically in the uppermost voice (Example 8), which forms a 2–3 suspension with the alto—effectively, the last three chords in the ascending form of the Rule of the Octave.38 In the Crocifissione passage, the clausula cantizans is presented twice, the first time with a 9–8 suspension, the second time a third lower and in the minor mode: B♭ major to G minor. If not this specific example, it may have been the version shown in Example 9 that Corelli heard or himself performed, from Stradella’s Sinfonia à 2 Violini e Basso in F major. Now the phrase begins in D minor and repeats the clausula cantizans a third 37 Walther ([1708] 1955, 162, 166, 170, 178). For a discussion of this and other clausulae, see Gjerdingen (2007, 139–176) and Byros (2015a). 76 38 Gjerdingen calls this a “Long Comma” (2007, 157–158, 169, 172, 175–176, 288–289, 292, 295, 337, 410, 412, 427, 439–440, 475, 477). Byros  Mozart’s Vintage Corelli: The Microstory of a Fonte-Romanesca Example 9. Stradella, Sinfonia à 2 Violini e Basso in F major, No. 11 in the Modena manuscript (I-MOe Mus.F.1129) (c. 1670s), ii (23), mm. 42–47: Fonte-Romanesca. Example 10. Corelli, Trio Sonata in B♭ major, Op. 2, No. 5 (1685), i, Adagio, mm. 6–10: Romanesca–Fonte-Romanesca. lower in B♭ major; and the bass of each cantizans cadence is also extended to begin on ➄. Whichever example(s) may have been the original source, Stradella’s expressive phrase served as an influential model for Corelli’s music. Measures 10–11 of the Grave from Op. 3, No. 1 is a near notefor-note copy (compare Examples 8, 9, and 4). This model has not previously been christened, to my knowledge, but it might aptly be called a Fonte-Romanesca, as it results from a combination of features belonging to the Romanesca and the Fonte.39 Example 10 reproduces mm. 6–10 of the prelude to Corelli’s fifth sonata from the Op. 2 chamber set. Measures 6–7 present a standard Romanesca, here with 9–8 suspensions, a product of the 2–3 suspension sequence in the upper parts. The 2–3 se39 Gjerdingen (2007, 25–43, 61–71). The name also follows Gjerdingen’s convention for categorizing hybrid patterning, such as the Monte Romanesca (2007, 98–105). 77 Intégral 31 (2017) Example 11. Fonte schema, from Gjerdingen (2007, 456). quence continues in mm. 8–9 while the overall formula changes to a clausula cantizans followed by its repetition a third lower, thus creating a Fonte-Romanesca. What allows for this seamless transition is the underlying feature the pattern shares with the standard Romanesca: the downward (diatonic) transposition of a third.40 Whereas descending fifths and other sequences, such as the 7–6, feature stepwise transpositions of their models, the down-athird transposition is unique to the Romanesca, colloquially known as the “Pachelbel sequence.” At the same time, the cantizans repetition bears affinities to the Fonte. A dominant–tonic statement in one key is repeated with a downward transposition—here by a third, as opposed to the step-transposition of the standard Fonte, shown in Example 11. Also different in the Fonte-Romanesca is the length of the clausula cantizans within each segment of the pattern. The standard Fonte typically has only ➆➀, whereas the Fonte-Romanesca normally has the longer version ➅➆➀. Finally, the pattern also bears a family resemblance to the Prinner, in that the two cantizans cadences frequently occur in the context of a larger ➏➎➍➌ in the top voice. The Fonte-Romanesca’s highly distinctive character results from the contrast between the uniformity of the 2–3 (or 7–6) suspensions in the upper parts, and the modulation down a third prompted by the bass below, with the 9–8 suspensions against it. Through a more-or-less casual perusal of all of Corelli’s published music, the sonatas Op. 1–5 and the Op. 6 concerti grossi, I have observed Corelli using the Fonte-Romanesca no fewer than 44 times, listed in Table 1. Even though Stradella appears to be among the first to employ two cantizans cadences in this precise formulation, Corelli’s music undoubtedly popularized it, both through its vast repetition and widespread publication. While popularizing the model itself, Corelli also solidified a particular collocation with a related formula: the cadenza doppia (double cadence). This collocation appears in another Stradella F-major sinfonia, displayed in Example 12, which forms a larger model: a version of the cadenza lunga (long cadence). Measures 11–12 of Corelli’s Op. 3, No. 1 are a near note-for-note copy of this passage from Stradella, shifted to the minor mode. If we take Stradella’s Crocifissione passage, and couple its second clausula cantizans with a cadenza doppia, as in the sinfonia of Example 12, we arrive at Corelli’s mm. 10–12. This passage is the result of combining two models, each of which results from a smaller-level combinatorial process: the cantizans coupled with its transposition down a third (= Fonte-Romanesca), and the cantizans coupled with a doppia (= cadenza lunga). And so the composition of mm. 10–12 from Op. 3, No. 1 may also be conceptualized as an elided combinatorial process, whereby a FonteRomanesca is merged with a cadenza lunga, the cantizans in the middle functioning as the fulcrum. All of these pairings are strings of models that are highly frequent in, and thus representative of, Corelli’s music. Once combined and replicated, they become for other composers what Gjerdingen and Janet Bourne call a “prefab,” a term borrowed from usage-based theories of language that is short for “prefabricated expression.”41 The year Mozart took Attwood on as a student, in 1785, and shortly before “revising” his Bolognese exam, he chose 40 William Caplin (1998) calls this general procedure “modelsequence technique.” 78 41 Gjerdingen and Bourne (2015). Byros  Mozart’s Vintage Corelli: The Microstory of a Fonte-Romanesca Op. 1, No. 3, i, Grave, mm. 8–11 Op. 1, No. 6, i, Grave, mm. 8–11 ———, ii, Largo, mm. 7–10 ———, ii, Largo, mm. 20–23 ———, ii, Largo, mm. 37–40 Op. 1, No. 7, iii, Allegro, mm. 34–40 Op. 2, No. 3, i, Largo, mm. 4–7 Op. 2, No. 4, iv, Allegro, mm. 39–45 Op. 2, No. 5, i, Adagio, mm. 7–10 Op. 2, No. 9, i, Largo, mm. 14–19 Op. 3, No. 1, i, Grave, mm. 10–12 Op. 3, No. 1, iv, Allegro, mm. 23–26 Op. 3, No. 2, iv, Allegro, mm. 27–31 Op. 3, No. 3, i, Grave, mm. 5–6 Op. 3, No. 4, iv, Presto, mm. 35–38 Op. 3, No. 5, i, Grave–Andante, mm. 9–12 Op. 3, No. 6, ii, Grave, mm. 5–7 Op. 3, No. 7, ii, Allegro, mm. 9–12 Op. 3, No. 8, i, Largo, mm. 7–10 ———, ii, Allegro, mm. 10–13 ———, ii, Allegro, mm. 25–27 ———, iii, Largo, mm. 17–20 Op. 3, No. 9, iii, Largo–Allegro, mm. 31–36 Op. 3, No. 11, iv, Allegro, mm. 5–8 ———, iv, Allegro, mm. 32–37 Op. 4, No. 2, i, Grave, mm. 13–15 Op. 4, No. 4, ii, Allegro, mm. 21–26 Op. 5, No. 5, i, Adagio, mm. 14–15 ———, ii, Allegro, mm. 5–7 Op. 4, No. 10, i, Adagio–Allegro, mm. 17–20 ———, ii, Grave, mm. 3–4 Op. 4, No. 11, i, Largo, mm. 15–17 Op. 4, No. 12, i, Largo, mm. 28–31 Op. 5, No. 1, iv, Allegro, mm. 23–26 Op. 5, No. 1, i, Grave, mm. 8–10 Op. 5, No. 3, ii, Allegro, mm. 26–29 Op. 5, No. 4, iv, Adagio, m. 11 Op. 5, No. 5, v, Allegro, mm. 2–4 ———, v, Allegro, mm. 18–20 Op. 5, No. 6, ii, Allegro, mm. 24–25 Op. 5, No. 8, ii, Allegro, mm. 4–7 Op. 5, No. 10, ii, Allegro, mm. 4–7 Op. 6, No. 1, iii, Allegro, mm. 10–13 Op. 6, No. 3, ii, Grave, mm. 5–8 Table 1. Examples of the Fonte-Romanesca in Corelli’s published music. Example 12. Stradella, Sinfonia à 2 Violini e Basso in F major, No. 12 in the Modena manuscript (I-MOe Mus.F.1129) (c. 1670s), i, mm. 9–11: cantizans—cadenza lunga collocation. this Corellian prefab (Fonte-Romanesca–cadenza lunga) for the second theme of his D-minor Fortepiano Concerto, K. 466 (Example 13).42 The only difference between Mozart’s and Corelli’s example, aside from the diminutions, is the ➅ in the bass before the cantizans is transposed down a third, which retroactively becomes the new ➀. This is the version of the prefab transmitted through Handel’s partimenti for the Princess Anne, shown in Example 14. 42 In the solo exposition and recapitulation of the concerto, the Fonte-Romanesca returns but the cadence is altered to end on a half cadence. Mozart evidently became particularly fond of this highly Corellian gesture, with and without the lunga collocation, as the Fonte-Romanesca appears in numerous compositions. It does so with all of its variants explored, and typically in “marked,” minor-mode settings.43 In the development section of the slow movement to his Keyboard Sonata in A minor, K. 310 (1778), the Fonte-Romanesca is cast in repeated sextuplets against dotted rhythms (Example 15). This pairing is highly characteristic of the ombra style, whose connotations of the funereal and super43 Hatten (1994, 36). 79 Intégral 31 (2017) Example 13. Mozart, Concerto for Fortepiano in D minor (1785), K. 466, i, Allegro, mm. 39–44: Fonte-Romanesca. Example 14. Georg Friedrich Händel, Figured Basses for the Princess Anne (c. 1724–1735), No. 19, mm. 8–13: Fonte-Romanesca. natural44 invite an autobiographical reading: Mozart composed the sonata around the time of his mother’s passing in Paris.45 The Fonte-Romanesca’s family resemblances with the Prinner and Fonte are also on display here, as its first cantizans segment emerges from an elided Circle-of-Fifths 44 Byros (2014); McClelland (2012, 2014). Writing to his father on 20 July 1778, from Paris, Mozart refers to the imminent engraving of some sonatas that he composed. Mozart’s mother had accompanied him on the trip to Paris, and passed a few weeks earlier, on 3 July (Anderson 1985, Letter Nos. 312, 313, 315a). 45 80 Prinner, and its second cantizans is elided with a standard Fonte. In this example Mozart was not only copying a schematic model, but also, specifically, the slow movement to Johann Schobert’s Sonata for Keyboard and Violin in F major, Op. 17, No. 2, which he previously used for the slow movement of his pastiche Keyboard Concerto, K. 39 (1767). In the following year, Mozart used the entire Corellian prefab four times in the “Credo” of his Coronation Mass in C major, K. 317 (1779).46 Two of these feature a not uncom46 Measures 25–28, 40–43, 93–96, and 118–121. Byros  Mozart’s Vintage Corelli: The Microstory of a Fonte-Romanesca Example 15. Mozart, Keyboard Sonata in A minor, K. 310, ii, Andante cantabile, mm. 43–48: Fonte-Romanesca. mon extension of the Fonte-Romanesca: a three-fold repetition of the cantizans cadence (A minor–F major–D minor) before the doppia close (Example 16). In the year Attwood signed on as his student, Mozart composed the Keyboard Fantasia in C minor, K. 475, which features a fourfold repetition of the cantizans in a double-extension of the FonteRomanesca (Example 17).47 The key of F♯ minor and a tragic siciliano style are the context for its setting in the opening theme of the slow movement for the A-major Fortepi- ano Concerto, K. 488, composed a year later in 1786 (Example 18). In the same year (Attwood now more a disciple than a pupil), Mozart composed the C-major Fortepiano Concerto, K. 503. The Fonte-Romanesca once again makes several appearances. This time, however, notice that the first cantizans clausula has been elided with another pattern: the Fenaroli (Example 19).48 Rather than begin with ➄➅➆➀ in E♭ major, the Fonte-Romanesca proceeds from the Fenaroli’s characteristic ➆➀➁➂ in the bass, whereby the 47 Mozart’s usage suggests that the Fonte-Romanesca, as a harmonic–contrapuntal formula, may additionally function as a topic in eighteenth-century music, as I have argued for the le–sol–fi–sol (Byros 2014). But engaging its topical allusions here would take things too far afield. 48 The Fenaroli is itself a collocation: its primary voices consist of a combination of a cantizans and tenorizans clausula, paired with a combination of an altizans and cantizans (Gjerdingen 2007, 225–240). 81 Intégral 31 (2017) Example 16. Mozart, Mass in C major, “Coronation,” K. 317 (1779), “Credo,” mm. 40–43 (voices and continuo): Fonte-Romanesca. ➀➁➂ becomes ➅➆➀ on account of the change in harmony above. The same strategy is seen in mm. 6–8 of Quaerite-3 except the voices have been swapped. The cantizans clausula is now in the actual soprano part (Example 6). This variant of the Fonte-Romanesca is an inverted altizans (alto cadence) form. Among the principal ideas in Walther’s (and before him Andreas Werckmeister’s) discussion of these cadence types is that of invertible counterpoint: altizans (alto), cantizans (soprano), and tenorizans (tenor) cadences can swap at will.49 The inverted form of the FonteRomanesca used in Quaerite-3 is found in a partimento of Fedele Fenaroli (1775), shown in Example 20 (compare to Example 6, mm. 6–8). Instead of a cantizans, the inverted form of the model transposes a clausula altizans, also known as an evaded or diverted cadence (cadence evitée or detournée) and Passo Indietro.50 Not only does the inversion provide a good solution for harmonizing the descending tetrachords of the antiphon—the la–ti–do cantizans clausula provides an independent fourth part in contrary motion—but it also allows the Fonte-Romanesca to be heard as an outgrowth of the Fenaroli-Ponte that begins Quaerite-3. 51 This speaks to the 49 Werckmeister (1702, 48–49); Byros (2015a, 2.2–2.5). Walther (1732, 125); Gjerdingen (2007, 167); Byros (2015a, 2.2). 51 On the Fenaroli-Ponte, see Byros (2013) and (2015b). 50 82 larger role that the schema plays in the whole, such that Quaerite-3 may be read, in part, as an exercise in the FonteRomanesca itself. The model actually makes three appearances. It returns in mm. 32–35, but now in its standard cantizans inversion. In the original antiphon melody, the whole-step F–G is transposed down a third to D–E. Altering these dyads to semitones through two chromatic alterations (F♯ and E♭) allowed for the use of the shortened form of the cantizans inversion, with ➆➀ in the bass (Example 7). This variant appears at the end of the “Cujus” of Antonio Caldara’s Stabat Mater in G minor, shown in Example 21. As an investigation of the combinatorial possibilities of the Fonte-Romanesca in a stile antico environment, Quaerite-3 may very well have been the study that informed Mozart’s use of the schema a few years later in the “Introitus” of the Requiem (1791), reproduced in Example 22. Here we encounter a different combinatorial situation. The Fonte-Romanesca’s cadential unit is presented three times, as in the “Credo” of the “Coronation” Mass (Example 16), but the clausulae have been redistributed and combined with features of the Fenaroli schema. The cantizans clausula is now in the tenor and violas; the altizans clausula is in the alto and second violins; and the basses now take the tenorizans. The sopranos and first violins, meanwhile, Byros  Mozart’s Vintage Corelli: The Microstory of a Fonte-Romanesca Example 17. Mozart, Keyboard Fantasia in C minor, K. 475 (1785), mm. 130–134: Fonte-Romanesca. take the primary line of the Fenaroli, ➆➀➁➂, which is itself a tenorizans clausula in reverse. The entire arrangement is then transposed down a third, twice, from F major to D minor, and D minor to B♭ major. Such a Fenaroli-Fonte combination is by no means new to the Requiem. Two years earlier, in the “Prussian” Quartet, K. 575 (1789), Mozart composed the phrase shown in Example 23, which transposes a Fenaroli down a second, as numerous others had done before him, and he himself had already done at the age of 6 in K. 3.52 The “Introitus” simply extends this idea to the down-a-third transposition of the Fonte-Romanesca, before reaching the dramatic le–sol–fi–sol that concludes the movement.53 From the sinfonias and preludes of Stradella’s and Corelli’s Rome to the concertos of Mozart’s Vienna, we can 52 See Gjerdingen (2007, 229–230, 236, 340, 344, 419). I have previously discussed this passage in Byros (2012a, 291–292). 53 glimpse moments in the life of a pattern, a story bookended by an Italian lament on the death of Christ and a Viennese requiem mass. Mozart may have learned the Fonte-Romanesca from Corelli himself, from the opening of J. S. Bach’s (little) C major Prelude (BWV 924) in W. F. Bach’s Clavier-Büchlein (1720), from Handel’s or some other composer’s partimento, or from any one of his other Italian influences. But ultimately the actual origin is of little account. Important is the general idea that musical models are material objects, that is, artifacts (not theoretical abstractions), which are transmitted in culture and serve the creative process. And they do so in numerous ways: through (near-)literal copy, (creative) imitation, variation, and problem-solving—both combinatorially and developmentally. Quaerite-3 occupies an especially important historical position in this regard, as it encapsulates all of these model functions. In this respect, the Fonte-Romanesca, in particular, does not simply aid the problem of harmonizing the antiphon’s descending tetrachords, but it also becomes 83 Intégral 31 (2017) Example 18. Mozart, Concerto for Fortepiano in A major, K. 488 (1786), ii, Adagio, mm. 1–12: Fonte-Romanesca. thematicized and developmental: inverted in mm. 27–30, and inverted again and varied in 32–35. Mozart appears to have explored the combinatorial relationship of the FonteRomanesca and other models to the motivic substance of the stile antico, represented by The Art of Fugue, as a way of creating a sense of direction, coherence, and flow for the whole (which is lacking in both Quaerite-1 and Quaerite-2, Martini’s revision). For example, the Fonte-Romanesca’s cantizans clausula (as well as the Fenaroli-Ponte’s) is an augmentation of the upbeat three-eighth-note motive adapted from the 7–6 model of Contrapunctus IV. Its impact on the whole can also be seen in less direct ways. For instance, the leapfrogging pattern in mm. 11–14 immediately develops the Fonte-Romanesca’s sequence via inversion. It becomes an ascending thirds sequence. The directionality of both sequences renders the cadenza plagale in mm. 15–16 a rhetorical climax. Together, the two sequences create, in the language of the German musica poetica tradition, the 84 effect of auxesis or gradatio.54 To that end, the Corellian leapfrog pattern not only repeats the Fonte-Romanesca’s thirds-sequence in inversion, but also extends it by one, to reach the melodic apex (A5 ) of the whole, which becomes a 9–8 suspension in the plagale cadence. A musical model is not an end in itself, but a means—of building a coherent and focused musical structure or narrative. Late in the fall of 2016, I finally wrote Baudolino, the Venetian scholar who first discovered the Quaerite-3 manuscript, to thank him for his work and also to share some of these ideas on the compositional process, for which his discovery was instrumental. In our e-mail exchange he responded with the following: “Dr. Byros, you speak of the creative process underlying Quaerite-3 with too much authority. Can we ever really know how a Mozart’s mind worked?” But never mind Baudolino. He 54 Bartel (1997, 209–212, 220–225). Byros  Mozart’s Vintage Corelli: The Microstory of a Fonte-Romanesca Example 19. Mozart, Concerto for Fortepiano in C major K. 503 (1786), i, Allegro maestoso, mm. 133–135. Example 20. Fedele Fenaroli, Regole musicali per i principianti di cembalo (Naples, 1775), Del partimenti, che scende di grado, II: inverted Fonte-Romanesca. is a liar and not to be trusted. To that end, I must now ask you, my reader, as did Paphnutius in Umberto Eco’s Baudolino (2000), to “strike Baudolino from [my] story.” All of the historical and documentary details surrounding Quaerite-3 are a fiction. There is no manuscript in the British Library; no watermark. The Goddess Fortuna’s price must have been too high for this to be a reality. The- composer of Quaerite-3 is not Mozart but myself. I have had to be momentarily dishonest—not at all with the intention to deceive, but, among other things, so as not to distract from the main idea. “Yes, I know, it’s not the truth, but in a great history little truths can be altered so that the greater truth emerges.” What is not a fiction, I will maintain, is what Quaerite-3, as an exercise, reconstructs, at least in miniature: the nature and role of models in eighteenth-century musical craft and the creative process. Though the historical details of Quaerite-3 are the one untruth in my micro(hi)story, it is nonetheless a historical fiction—that is, one rooted in the structures of the past so far as we know to have reconstructed them, and thus aimed at truth: to present a microcosm of the artisanal mindset and creative process of the eighteenth century. Reflecting on his completion of Bach’s Art of Fugue, in a recent article published in the Dutch–Flemish journal Music Theory & Analysis, Kevin Korsyn offers the following words: My completion suggests how musical scholarship might involve a creative response to a work of art. It is meant to combat what I have elsewhere called “the ideology of the abstract,” that is, the tendency of musical research to produce conclusions that can be easily summarized and paraphrased. This reductivequality of 85 Intégral 31 (2017) Example 21. Antonio Caldara, Stabat Mater in G minor, “Cujus,” mm. 19–24 (voices and continuo): Fonte-Romanesca. scholarship is at war with the tendency of art to create unique objects that resist any sort of paraphrase. Since no speculative reconstruction could exactly realize Bach’s intentions, my completion is at once a commentary on The Art of Fugue and an independent composition, and thus open to inexhaustible commentary.55 In a similar vein, my recomposition of Mozart’s Bolognese exam is a commentary not on a single work of art but on eighteenth-century musical craftsmanship and creativity more broadly. Were I to detail all of the ways in which models are used even in these 43 measures, I would have to fill quite a few more pages—for example, how long-range scale harmonizations, both ascending and descending, were learned from Bach’s model;56 how stile antico figuration patterns are developed and fit to harmonic– contrapuntal models; how various patterns may be combined and elided; the role that thoroughbass plays in all of this; and how Quaerite-3 may serve as a study or “sketch” 55 56 Korsyn (2016). Byros (2015a). 86 for a full-fledged composition. But that kind of analysis is somewhat beside the point. Quaerite-3 is my way of framing the argument, of telling the story. It is music about music; artisanal eighteenth-century musical thought “in action” in the twenty-first century. As Richard Taruskin reminds us in his monumental Oxford History of Western Music, every history is a “creation,” a story, in which we as authors or readers are imbricated.57 To be sure, I have indulged in a little light fiction along the way. My narrative model has been that of the detective story, with a twist appearing late in the plot just in time for me to “wrap up the case.” By “composing-in” and imagining parts of the (hi)story, however, it becomes not only about Mozart and Corelli, but about twenty-first-century Partimentalia, Schemata-Satzmodelleburg, and Topospfalz. As Eco (speaking through Baudolino) put it, “imagining other worlds, you end up changing this one.” Where studies of 57 Taruskin (2010, 235). Byros  Mozart’s Vintage Corelli: The Microstory of a Fonte-Romanesca Example 22. Mozart, Requiem in D minor, K. 626, “Introitus,” mm. 40–43: Fonte-Romanesca. Example 23. Mozart, String Quartet in D major, K. 575 (1789), iii, Trio, Allegretto, mm. 13–20: Fenaroli-Fonte, from Gjerdingen (2007, 236). 87 Intégral 31 (2017) long-eighteenth-century music are concerned, the world is changing indeed. References Abert, Hermann. 2007. W. A. Mozart. Translated by Stewart Spencer. Edited by Cliff Eisen. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Allsop, Peter. 1999. Arcangelo Corelli: New Orpheus of Our Times. New York: Oxford University Press. Anderson, Emily, ed. and trans. 1961. The Letters of Beethoven, 3 Vols. London: Macmillan; New York: St. Martin’s Press. , ed. and trans. 1985. The Letters of Mozart and his Family, 2 Vols, 3rd ed. London: Macmillan; New York: St. Martin’s Press. Bach, Johann Sebastian. [1738] 1994. Vorschriften und Grundsätze zum vierstimmigen Spielen des General-Bass oder Accompagnement. Leipzig. Trans. Pamela L. Poulin as J. S. Bach’s Precepts and Principles for Playing the ThoroughBass or Accompanying in Four Parts. Oxford University Press. Bach, Carl Philipp Emanuel. 1757. Einfall, einen doppelten Contrapunct in der Octave von 6 Tacten zu machen, ohne die Regeln zu wissen. Printed in Marpurg, F. W. Vol. 1 of Historische-kritische Beyträge zur Aufnahme der Musik. Bartel, Dietrich. 1997. Musica Poetica: Musical-Rhetorical Figures in German Baroque Music. University of Nebraska Press. Baudolino, Umberto. 2014. “Una terza versione di ‘Quaerite regnum primum Dei’ nella British Library.” Journal of Music-Historical Fiction 1 (1): 1–10. Berry, David Carson. 2004. A Topical Guide to Schenkerian Literature: An Annotated Bibliography with Indices. Hillsdale, NY: Pendragon Press. Burstein, L. Poundie. 2005. “Unraveling Schenker’s Concept of the Auxiliary Cadence.” Music Theory Spectrum 27 (2): 159–185. Byros, Vasili. 2012a. “Meyer’s Anvil: Revisiting the Schema Concept.” Music Analysis 31 (3): 273–346. . 2012b. “Unearthing the Past: Theory and Archaeology in Robert Gjerdingen’s Music in the Galant Style.” Music Analysis 31 (1): 112–124. . 2012c. “Review of Giorgio Sanguinetti, The Art of Partimento: History, Theory, and Practice (Oxford University Press, 2012)”. Music Theory Online 18 (3). . 2013. “Trazom’s Wit: Communicative Strategies in a ‘Popular’ Yet ‘Difficult’ Sonata.” Eighteenth-Century Music 10 (2): 213–252. . 2014. “Topics and Harmonic Schemata: A Case from Beethoven.” In The Oxford Handbook of Topic The88 ory, edited by Mirka Danuta, 381–414. Oxford University Press. . 2015a. “Prelude on a Partimento: Invention in the Compositional Pedagogy of the German States in the Time of J. S. Bach.” Music Theory Online 21 (3). . 2015b. “ ‘Hauptruhepuncte des Geistes’: Punctuation Schemas and the Late-Eighteenth-Century Sonata.” In What is a Cadence?: Theoretical and Analytical Perspectives on Cadences in the Classical Repertoire, edited by Markus Neuwirth and Pieter Bergé, 215–251. Leuven University Press. . 2015c. “On the Theories of Eighteenth-Century Music.” Response Paper given at the Annual Meeting of the Society for Music Theory, St. Louis, MO. Caplin, William. 1998. Classical Form: A Theory of Formal Functions for the Instrumental Music of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. New York: Oxford University Press. Federhofer, Hellmut. 1964. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke. I:3. Kritische Berichte. Kassel: Internationale Stiftung Mozarteum Salzburg. Gianturco, Carolyn. 1994. Alessandro Stradella, 1639–1682: His Life and Music. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Gjerdingen, Robert. 2007. Music in the Galant Style: Being an Essay on Various Schemata Characteristic of EighteenthCentury Music for Courtly Chambers, Chapels, and Theaters, Including Tasteful Passages of Music Drawn from Most Excellent Chapel Masters in the Employ of Noble and Noteworthy Personages, Said Music All Collected for the Reader’s Delectation on the World Wide Web. New York: Oxford University Press. . 2010. “Mozart’s Obviously Corrupt Minuet.” Music Analysis 29 (1–3): 61–82. Gjerdingen, Robert, and Janet Bourne. 2015. “Schema Theory as a Construction Grammar.” Music Theory Online 21 (2). Gutman, Robert W. 1999. Mozart: A Cultural Biography. San Diego: Harcourt Inc. Hatten, Robert S. 1994. Musical Meaning in Beethoven: Markedness, Correlation, and Interpretation. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Köchel, Ludwig von Ritter. 1964. Chronologisch-thematisches Verzeichnis sämtlicher Tonwerke Wolfgang Amadé Mozarts. Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel. Korsyn, Kevin. 2016. “At the Margins of Music Theory, History, and Composition: Completing the Unfinished Fugue in Die Kunst der Fuge by J. S. Bach.” Music Theory & Analysis 3 (2): 115–143. Mantovani, T. 1901. “Mozart a Milano.” Gazzetta Musicale di Milano 42:590–592. McClelland, Clive. 2012. Ombra: Supernatural Music in the Eighteenth Century. Lanham, MD: Lexington. Byros  Mozart’s Vintage Corelli: The Microstory of a Fonte-Romanesca . 2014 “Ombra and Tempesta.” In The Oxford Handbook of Topic Theory, edited by Mirka Danuta, 279–300. Oxford University Press. Meyer, Leonard. 1989. Style and Music: Theory, History, and Ideology. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press. Mirka, Danuta, ed. 2014. The Oxford Handbook of Topic Theory. Oxford University Press. Ottenberg, Hans-Günter. 1987. Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach. Translated by Philip J. Whitmore. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Perlman, Marc. 2004. Unplayed Melodies: Javanese Gamelan and the Genesis of Music Theory. Berkeley: University of California Press. Rochlitz, Friedrich. 1832. Für Freunde der Tonkunst, Vol. 4. Leipzig. Sanguinetti, Giorgio. 2012. The Art of Partimento: History, Theory, and Practice. New York: Oxford University Press. . 2014. “Editorial.” Eighteenth-Century Music 11 (1): 3–9. Schenker, Heinrich. [1935] 1979. Free Composition. Vol. III of New Musical Theories and Fantasies. Translated and edited by Ernst Oster. New York: Longman. Taruskin, Richard. 2010. Music in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries. Vol. 2 of The Oxford History of Western Music. New York: Oxford University Press. Verducci, Tom. 2017. The Cubs Way: The Zen of Building the Best Team in Baseball and Breaking the Curse. New York: Crown Archetype. Walther, Johann Gottfried. 1732. Musicalisches Lexicon. Leipzig. . [1708] 1955. Praecepta der Musikalischen Composition. Breitkopf & Härtel. Werckmeister, Andreas. 1702. Harmonologia Musica, Frankfurt and Leipzig. Wintle, Christopher. [1982]. 2017a. “Corelli’s Rhythmic Models.” Intégral 31:51–61. . 2017b. “Corelli’s Tonal Models.” Intégral 31:31–49. Wolff, Christoph. 1994. Mozart’s Requiem. Translated by Mary Whittall. Berkeley: University of California Press. 89