I rather enjoy translating Mattheson. It’s like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube, and it keeps an elderly brain active. In addition, he often says quite sensible things, which are usually submerged in his ramblings. Articles 130 and 132 on this site reference his Große General-Bass-Schule (1731). Aside from the comments quoted there regarding temperament and continuo playing, I wanted to offer the kind reader the following entertaining miscellany from the same source.
On sight-reading (p. 345):
“Solo pieces [Hand-Sachen] need to be practiced, and he who thinks he can sight-read them is being very presumptuous, even if he were the arch-harpsichordist in person, and thinks he can overawe his listeners with his juggler’s tricks...We Germans well deserve it if we now and then get our conceits laundered. Other peoples don’t boast so greatly about their ex tempore, their sight-reading [Treffen], their à livre ouvert; and when someone among the French is said to play an Ouverture à livre ouvert, it really means something. They admire such a countryman like children admire a Box of Delights [Raritätskasten]. Here we think all honor exists only in sight-reading; he who cannot sight-read is good for nothing. When a stranger arrives, it is immediately asked: “Can he sight-read?” Answer: “So-so.” Whereupon the other turns up his nose or shrugs his shoulders, which signifies as much as a ban on the new arrival. Dear people! Sight-reading has its merits, its great merits; but that doesn’t mean there are not other merits, which if not greater, are to be considered at least its equal. I cannot condemn one who is diligent, and studies in advance that which he wishes to perform; it will come out that much the better. The best sight-readers often misread the most often. They rely on their native gifts, and stroll over everything as if it were not worth the trouble. They brag ceaselessly, as if all wisdom entered the world with them, and they had nobody to thank for it. The delicate, the pure essence of music is thereby utterly shunted aside; judgement regarding the grace a work requires; good taste; the feeling necessary to that which one plays or sings etc. count almost for nothing with these impudent sight-readers; stumbling and sleight-of-hand [Taschenspielen] progress through every line; and when a piece comes to an end in this manner, it shall have been sight-read.”
On the French and beating time (p. 384 ff.):
“It is curious, our countrymen do not wish to acquire from the French their diligence, their precision, their skill with clefs, their unity in ensembles, or other commendable qualities; but the flapping in the air, the up-raising [das Auffheben], the twisting and turning which some of them employ with hands and feet, body and soul in their beating of time – these are things which must particularly excite us Germans, since we give ourselves so much trouble to imitate them like apes, and so fancy ourselves therewith. One would think that when such a presumptuous Frenchman, accompanied by a few strings, munches along on something, being of the opinion that he is singing, he is banning evil spirits with his weird gestures; since in the meantime his text is all tenderness. The ridiculous thing is that, in the sweat of his brow and with true Gräber-Tritten*, he is trying beat time to those who know what a beat is a thousand times better than he. If we observe some French violinists, what dangerous bow-strokes do we see; everything must clatter, tremble and shake under his feet; his sleeves (especially in his pretentious fashions) leave no fly alive, and are more effective than all the fans and Fechtel** in the world. Contrariwise, when one regards the situation by the light of day, one hardly hears a single decent intonation or bowing from the man; all depends on this market shouting, on the exhausting outward impression. These are the people who make us want to pound out the beat, because it becomes them so well. I once played continuo to the so-called singing of a hoarse Parisienne who didn’t know a single note; and yet who wanted to beat time to me with head, hand and foot...
“[We beat time in large ensembles only out of necessity.] This should have been noted by two French masters, about whom was recently written from Versailles that they had had terrible falling-out. The king’s chapel master wished to perform a work which not he, but another had composed. The composer demanded to beat time, since he best knew how it should go; the chapel master could not accept such an intervention, and thought it beneath his dignity to allow another to assume the office of time-beater. The struggle rose to such a pitch that it had to be brought before the king, who decided it after the manner of Alexander, and ordered that no music be performed in his chapel that day. That was the result for these ambitious gentlemen! For the rest, in my humble opinion the composer was right, and the chapel master could have yielded without the least loss of time-beating face; but the former also could have backed off, rather than suffer the divine service to lose its greatest ornament. But all is vanity and pride with this sort of musicians, and nothing is so holy but it cannot be sacrificed on the altar of such satanic tendencies.”
On cantabile (p. 329):
“He who cannot sing, cannot play. This might seem unreasonable to some organists...but let him who does not believe me and so many honest men check a piece of sacred music scrawled by a non-singing organist (for there are fruitful nights with these people, in which their mushrooms – I mean their so-called Compositiones – spring out of the earth by the dozen) and see how how poorly the melodies are connected, and how pathetic it all sounds. Whoever wishes to inquire further can ask such a person, inexperienced in singing, to sing this specimen; they will behold wonders. (We will say nothing about some who are practiced in the art of singing.)
“I don’t mean to imply that everyone should make singing their profession and existence, or must actually be a singer if they want to play adequately; for there are many valiant folk who by nature have no voice for singing. It is also not necessary that someone make a great thing of their fine throat, which is granted but to few. But not only every composer, but every continuo player, indeed, every instrumentalist, must have knowledge of singing; and when his neck is of no use, yet must their singing thoughts pass their orders on to their fingers; otherwise all is wooden and lifeless. D. Lippius already knew this when he said,***namely, that an instrumentalist is the more perfect, the more he has invested in the art of singing.”
On fingering ( p. 318-9):
“One never ceases to be amazed at the horrible ways some lads stumble, especially when the left hand moves downwards, the only reason being that their fingers are not used to a certain order and have no clear path mapped out. Teachers often make a great thing of this, and make three or four rules concerning which fingers in both hands the student should use going up and down the keyboard. That is all good and well, and may have its use, like the regulations given by a good handwriting master. Nevertheless, just as, with growing understanding, many discard these in favor of their own way of writing which differs entirely from that of their master, so it is with the order of fingers on the keyboard. As many as play, nearly so many different ways of fingering [der sogenannten Application] one will find. The one plays runs with four, another with five, and some just as fast even with only two fingers. It doesn’t matter, as long as one finds a certain guideline and consistently sticks to it. This is what counts. Most are so undecided and so little certain of themselves in this matter, that they need a quarter of an hour to agree with themselves on a fingering. Therefore I offer no certain order here, but only demand that one, by diligent practice, get absolutely and fixedly used to one only; but such that it fits in all circumstances; which requires much pondering. It should otherwise be noted that in very simple runs in the right hand, one takes the third and fourth fingers going upwards, downwards the third and second. Conversely, in the left hand the second finger and thumb upwards, and downwards the second and third. I only say that this is the usual procedure and teaching; which can however only be used in a few instances.”
This is one of Mattheson’s most blustery and contradictory passages, but is nevertheless interesting. He is struggling to stake out a position in a time of transition to “modern”, thumb-under scale fingerings. By “very simple runs” [gar gemeinen Gängen] he means diatonic keys. His final suggestion corresponds to many earlier sources, and with the exception of the left hand downwards, to Bach’s Clavierbüchlein for Wilhelm Friedemann, who is indeed said to have played scales with equal rapidity in both systems. Mattheson’s rejection of the left hand fourth finger is exceptional, and I have never seen an old source mentioning repetition of all five fingers in succession.
But Mattheson’s biggest problem is typical for the man, whose pre-Enlightenment temperament was coupled with a heritage of Baroque pomposity, polemic and prolixity. He wants to reduce everything to a system, but in this case, can’t quite get there – and for good reason. As the use of distant keys increased, “very simple runs” almost disappeared, and a “certain guideline” became impossible to find. There is an infinite number of key combinations, and as our author points out, everyone has his own opinion about how to get around them.
I happen to be a fingering fanatic, whose eraser is his best friend. Legion are the times when I have written in a “definitive” fingering in ink, only to cross it out (in ink), and its successor(s) as well. The perfect fingering for a given person’s hand in a given situation can be a needle in a haystack, but once found, it turns out to be a diamond-studded gold pin. That is why an edition should never, ever contain fingerings. Schnabel’s Beethoven edition is a classic case. The contortions he suggested were exactly right for him, and crucially, for his interpretation as well. They were wrong for just about everyone else.
January 26, 2024
An online hapax legomenon, the meaning of which (literally: graves- or diggers-steps) I have not deciphered. An entry in the German dictionary by the brothers Grimm might lend a clue: according to one of their quotes, walking over one’s own grave makes a hollow sound.
** Usually spelled Fächtel, another kind of fan used in Mattheson’s little joke as a flyswatter.
*** In his Disputatio Musica Secunda, Wittenberg, 1609, 2nd (unpaginated) page of the text. Lippius actually says in vocali confecit spatia – “has ticked/covered the boxes/spaces in singing”. This might be a reference to a board game where squares are taken.
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