© Michel Cardin
The London Manuscript
35 individual Pieces
Part I
The complete and updated version of 'London unveiled' by Michel Cardin can be downloaded as pdf files: 'London unveiled'
Even though they are not indicated as such, the two minuets in F (Menuet (p.11 (13) and Men: (p.12 (14)) can be joined quite logically as Minuet I and Minuet II, which lead quite naturally to the Da capo of the first one. This would appear to be the reason why they were placed together. They are considered by Smith and Crawford as movements that could belong to the neighbouring first sonata, albeit as substitute movements for the minuet found therein. The second one appears as the only minuet of the same sonata found in three copies of the Warsaw Manuscript. Markus Lutz points out that the first fifteen bars of the Minuet I are the same as those found in the minuet, in B flat, of the duo sonata S-C 14 in g minor (both of which exist only in the London Manuscript). Everything changes after these initial fifteen measures. There was indeed an adaptation, but was it from the departure point of a solo or duo work? I would hazard that we have here a non stop discourse typical of a solo work, but one that reveals also a supplementary proof of the solo/ensemble flexibility often encountered within the work of Weiss. This modular approach to musical function can be seen in even the earliest of Baroque lutenists. Consider, for example, Ennemond Gautier and his pieces like the allemande entitled Testament de Mézangeau which is also, by the composer’s own admission, to be found as a gigue, arrived at through a simple rhythmic re-organisation. The three Warsaw versions of the second minuet are for a lute with thirteen courses, while the London equivalent, written in the composer’s hand, is for an eleven-course lute. If it is worthwhile borrowing certain basses from the thirteen-course version, certain cadences are more minutely tooled in the eleven-course example. A sign, which seems to be a grupetto, appears just before the ending of this second movement. The grupetto can be easily confirmed as being the correct interpretation due to the ease with which it falls under the fingers. I find it pertinent to note that the demands of the tablature notation would lead us to suppose that Weiss had thin, elongated fingers.
The Gavotte (p.13 (11)) in F, another possible movement for the first sonata, could give the impression that it is a duo, but I have my doubts. The repetition of a seemingly unique motive does not necessarily indicate any melodic lacuna, or the necessity of another voice, as witness the numerous Scarlatti sonatas thusly constructed; sonatas that do not require extra material. In fact, this piece solicits a certain attachment due to its inherent simplicity, as do the pieces composed by Bach for Anna Magdalena. As was the case in the second minuet, the repeat points and the letter R are quite clearly presented during the three last measures of the end of the piece, measures that are incidentally, redolent with charm. This gavotte presents us with a typically Wessian challenge for the left hand. It seems by times to be a legato study that involves a systematic anticipatory movement of the left elbow. This piece does not appear in any other manuscript.
The Gavotte and Double (p.22) in D major (no other source, and there is actually no title here) belongs, theoretically speaking, to the second sonata but its appearance after the gigue gives the impression of an isolated work or possibly a substitute for the bourree. Its rustic allure is not unpleasant and seems to act as an antidote – I’m sure it was the composer’s intention - to numerous more serious pieces in this book. As with the preceding gavotte, I find no evidence of weakness of writing, nor do I discern a hidden duo. Since no title appears in the manuscript, I feel that we may as well name it an angloise, given the predominant ascending line.
Of the following four pieces in B flat, two are movements of the incomplete S-C 4 sonata, this sonata being complete in the Dresden manuscript. The missing movements in London are the minuet and the gavotte, and Dresden bears a different prelude. Another discrepancy is that the Dresden bourree is a sufficiently expanded variant of the London one to make it an independent piece. This leaves us with only two common pieces: the overture and the courante. Since there are in London four pieces in C and four pieces in D (towards the end of the manuscript) that seem also to be incomplete sonatas, one could wonder why these groupings are not considered as well sonatas in their own right. Nevertheless, D.A.Smith chose not to call sonata the pieces in C and those in D but he did for these problematic pieces in B flat, probably to establish a concordance with Dresden. With only two real concordant movements, I have chosen personally to identify in my analysis the S-C 4 pieces like the C major and the D major pieces, that is, as individual pieces. I would have also stretched things for my recording by including the two missing pieces whilst omitting, of necessity, one of the two preludes. For a performer, it would seem awkward to record “entirely” a London sonata coming from Dresden and skip it in a recording of Dresden, including only orphaned movements of an actual complete sonata. Influenced by this logical necessity and as my intention was to remain as faithful as possible to the originals, I have decided to refrain from changing the presentation of the London version (See the introduction of The London Manuscript unveiled, part I, LSA Quarterly, Volume 32, N°2, may 1997).
The Prélude (p.33) (no other source) proclaims a proud magnificence and an energy that portends greater development in the two following movements. Indeed the Ouverture (p.34) shines with orchestral colours in the style of Haendel or Telemann with the principle theme in the basses that evokes a bassoon timbre. In this typical slow-fast-slow pattern, the Allegro is characterised by a lively fugue theme. In the Dresden version, the first part and the allegro both have repeat indications. As mentioned before, we can explain these as being optional in the spirit of an anticipated "encore" rather than in the usual systematic context.
The courante (Cour: p.36) begins in a manner similar to the one of the Celebrated Pirate, though the melodic line is inverted. The full maturity of the composer is revealed in this work. The thematic equilibrium is not at all disturbed by the long chain of phrases. Some left-hand fingerings are indicated finely in the tablature. It should be noted that from the prelude onwards, in London, the twelfth and thirteenth courses are not used, which leads to the supposition that the intended instrument was originally the eleven-course model. On the other hand, it is because of the courante and overture, which provide also an excellent pretext for an instrumental colour change, that we have decided to use a standard lute for this recording, and not the elongated theorbo lute. Both pieces have a chromatic bass line playable only on a standard model, which has a wider fingerboard. This instrumentation was then necessary for some works in Volumes 4, 5, 6 and 10 of our recording series. Nevertheless, there are only nine pieces in the London Manuscript that require a standard lute, so I feel I should mention them as follows. Two of them (indicated by an asterisk) could even have their chromatic bass or phrase section taken up the octave without adversely affecting the music. These include : the overture and courante in B flat (S-C 4), the allemande* in c minor (S-C 7), the allemande and gigue in B flat (S-C 15), the prelude* in d minor (S-C 20), the allemande and sarabande in f minor (S-C 21) and the fugue in G (S-C 22).
The Bouree (p.39) can also be found, in a simplified version, in the Podebrady manuscript. The spellings are Bouree (London), Bourée (Dresden) and Burè (Podebrady). The Dresden version is very different, with more arpeggios and repeated melodic cells, but I have chosen to resist any inclinations to mix versions in my recording. It does seem that coherence suffers and that it would be better to choose the version that one prefers, adding ornaments where necessary.
The Allegro (p.38) in G major (which, along with the following courante is found only in London) is situated in the manuscript between the courante and the bourree in B flat. It seems certain that it was added later and only because the empty page could contain it. We have, as a result, switched the bourree and the allegro in this presentation. One questions whether the allegro might be the work of another composer, though typically Weissian writing and fingering techniques can be found. (Note the melodic dialogues that bring to mind the gavotte of the sonata S-C 27). A title such as paysanne or gavotte would indeed seem appropriate. On the other hand, the abundant use of the two bottom courses, to the point of sonic confusion, seems to be atypical of Weiss. Could this be the work, as the minuet p.136, of his brother? Another ambiguity surfaces in that I was quite convinced that the piece was a duo, but it has enough active melodic bass usage to make it seem equally plausible as a solo work. Could this be a solo that has been re-worked into a duo, or the inverse? Could it, in the final analysis, be both a solo and duo? It seems possible.
The same doubts surround the Courente Royale (p.40), which was transcribed by the same later copyist, but to a much lesser degree since there are few opportunities for the addition of another voice. If it wasn’t composed by Weiss, it was composed by a student/disciple who was striving to use all of the idiomatic formulae of the master. In actual fact, the piece re-utilises not only the arpeggios, but also the motifs of the courante of sonata S-C 11, those of the Celebrated Pirate, the allegro of the sonata S-C 22 in addition to a motif of the allegro of sonata S-C 35 (Dresden).
My omission of the d minor bourree of page 78 was precipitated by the fact that it is exactly the same as the one found in the ninth solo sonata. It should be acknowledged, however, that we have here a beautiful example of repetitions that were all written down by the composer. In proceeding to the Prelude (p.80) in E flat, we find another piece that exists in one unique version; a work that belongs to the sixth solo sonata but was not recorded due to a decision to use a substitute prelude (a short work added to the free space on the second page). The reason for this editorial decision is that I preferred to record the more imposing of the two as an individual work, rather than the other way around. The repeat marks are found yet again at the end of the piece, though we have an example of an improvised work! The idea of optional repeat is quite applicable here also, because of the density of the work. The opening pool of tenderness becomes transformed, little by little into an occasionally furious exaltation of energy. One senses a vagabond spirit that is somehow full of assurance. The prelude can be seen as a musical representation of the encounter between Weiss and his wife as described by Marpurg in his book of savoury anecdotes concerning the social elite of his time. Leopold goes for a walk on a bright Sunday and sees passing in front of him a female beauty that transports him, giving him the eloquence necessary to convince her to accompany him to the park. He then succeeded in meeting her parents, who, in the face of such exuberance consented that very day to the marriage of Weiss and their daughter. The story ends - and the prelude seems to echo this conclusion - with the words “and they lived one of the most beautiful unions the world has known.” This prelude brings to mind various moments from those of the ninth (S-C 13) and twentieth (S-C 26) solo sonatas.
The Minuet (p.92) in G, another untitled piece unique to the London ms, seems upon first reading to be the continuation of the Royal Courante. It uses the same abundance of thematic unisons and is in the calligraphy of the same copyist. It could be heard initially as a courante but the frequency of bass usage and the accented notes lead to the conclusion that it is most assuredly a minuet. It would be difficult to affirm that this work is not a Weiss piece, although strong suspicions are raised by those numerous heavy basses, not in his style at all. It would not, on the other hand, come as a surprise to learn that it had also existed in a parallel duo format.
The Fuga (p.118) in C major and the Fuga (p.130) in d minor represent two singularly grand moments in the London Manuscript. Each is of perfect fabrication and each has an individual psychological aura. The first conquers through serenity and the second is characterised by a sombre enraged energy. It is this latter fugue which resembles the writing of Bach, with a beginning similar to one of the Cantor fugues. Wenzel Pichel (1741-1804) also wrote a fugue for solo violin using this same theme. These two fugues are not found in any other manuscript although variant of the fugue in d minor can be found in the Buenos Aires ms but it would seem to be of less rigorous compositional technique, even if both display equal aesthetic merit. The fugue in C (which also has repeat marks at the end) has a martial rhythm tainted with harmonic tenderness whereas the d minor fugue wallows in the tension of acidic intervallic juxtapositions. The first fugue, which is more technically challenging because of the left hand leaps, is light and aerial while the second is dense and heavy. This second has one, and only one, right hand fingering indication. The composer asks, in a touching detail, that a note be played very precisely with the middle finger, presumably to get the best colour possible. The fugue in d minor begins in the middle of a page, the top half of which is empty. It must be supposed that Weiss left part of the page blank on purpose, with the intention of adding a prelude at a later date; but this half page remains unfinished for posterity.
L’Amant Malheureux (p.132) (The Unfortunate Lover) can also be found in the Paris ms and has inspired other Germanic composers such as Pachelbel with his L’Amant Malcontent. This famous composition was not written by Weiss, rather by the important and influential Jacques Gallot, and entitled Le Vieux Gallot (Vaudry de Saizenay ms). His dates are unknown but his death would have occurred at or around the time of the birth of Weiss. As another example of the influence of Gallot, his Psyché, another magnificent work, reminds the listener of the chaconne in g minor, in addition to certain allemandes, by Weiss. It is fascinating to have Weiss’s version of this piece with all of its variants and completely ornamented repeats, the performer being relieved of this responsibility for once! This is quite understandable – one would be reluctant to change a single note or inflection found in this ethereal, sacred and mystical song. One can however make good use of the notes inégales to enhance the pathos. The elegance of Gallot has been barely modified, but somehow amplified a century after the facts through the skill and respectful intelligence of Weiss. This is a truly magnificent artistic collaboration that transcends the barriers of time. The sonic imagery speaks of tears in the beginning, falling one by one. This is followed by the despair that permeates the spirit, concluding eventually with heavy sighing. Musical intervals were chosen for symbolic force, primary ones being those of the fifth, third and octave. This composition is a true masterpiece of its time, the equal of many better-known ‘hit’ favourites! The Paris version, in g minor, is correct and meticulous (could it be by a younger Silvius?) but the London copy, in a minor, with its written repeats, has a certain extra, if ineffable, ingenuity.
The Fantasie (p.134) in c minor, a unique version bearing the inscription Weis 1719 à Prague at the end, was published in e minor for guitar in the 1960’s and recorded by Julian Bream. This recording, with its perfect legato interpretation of the Fantasy, along with Logy’s Tombeau and the Passacaille in D, was largely instrumental in inciting many novices toward the works of Weiss. It is true that Segovia had previously played a few Weiss pieces in concert, on the guitar, and one should not dismiss easily his influence, even if he was also capable of passing off Manuel Ponce pastiches as those of Weiss. (This, because he couldn’t be troubled to adapt other original works, an attitude consistent with his loathing of the lute.) I remember playing the Fantasy on the guitar, stopping at each measure to imagine how this work might sound on the lute. The first half, which is unmeasured, consists of a continuous flow of brilliantly undulating musical phrases. The second, which is metered, presents a fugue subject which rises quickly to an expansive state before returning suddenly to the melodic discourse of the beginning and concluding in a paroxysm of closing chords.
The Minuet (p.136) in B flat is untitled, though the style is quite clear. It is also found in the Warsaw ms with the words Junior Weiss, making it a possible composition by Leopold’s younger brother, Sigismund. Its lightness breathes of a certain freshness with a late eighteenth-century feel and lets indeed the listener in doubt as being from silvius. It brings Mozart or Haydn to mind and the technique required is somewhat effortless. Nevertheless, the element of doubt surrounding this piece obliges one to reflect on a perceived kinship with the little minuets of Bach, which were composed in the same era, and the musical balance is quite a ‘Senior Weiss’ one. The Plainte (p.137) is also devoid of title at its heading, though the following information can be found in French at the end : ‘A plainte by Mr. Weis on the generosity of the great Nobility at the cape of good hope, whilst awaiting their promised flotilla of gold : composed on January 11, 1719.’ These sentiments can be found in the music, which combines disillusionment with serene meditation in a manner that is philosophical without rancour. Weiss was visiting Vienna with the Saxon court while preparing for the marriage of the inheritors to be held on the twentieth of March. One wonders which of the two courts was held in disdain by Weiss for the failure to provide monetary payment. It is true that the Viennese court had tried to lure him with an incredibly large salary. The plaint is found beside the tenth solo sonata in B flat in which it could replace the sarabande, and is called as a matter of fact a sarabande in the same sonata copied in the Dresden ms that seems to have lost or rejected the London one. Its unique identity is created by long appoggiatura figures at the beginnings of sections. These in turn yield very unusual harmonies since the appoggiaturas remain stronger than their subsequent resolutions. This is but another subtle Weiss’s idea…
The Tombeau (p.176) ‘on the death of M: Cajetan Baron of Hartig, arrived on the 25 of March 1719. Composed by Silvio Lepold Weis in Dresden’ (written in French) is, like the following second tombeau, one of the high points of the manuscript. It is subtitled Adagio assai and the key of e flat minor, with many lowered bass courses, is fabulously apposite, even if it was found to be bizarre (or at the very least unusual) at the time of composition. It is not surprising that Mattheson doesn’t provide this key with an affekt description, going so far as to exclude it from his list of tonalities. He says of keys that he doesn’t describe that “their effects are little known and must be left to posterity since they are rarely used”. But Weiss was not afraid to outstrip posterity. This key does require the usage of very difficult left hand barrings. I have chosen to tune a few commas flat in order to advantageously darken the musical climate, which comes as a bit of a surprise after hearing the preceding plaint. This work, which has no other known source, is an homage to Cajetan Christoph Anton Freyherr von Hartig (1686-1719), the youngest of five brothers. His sudden death is related in a Viennese paper : “ Lord at Rückers he died unmarried in Prague at his house by the old castle steps on March 23 at 5:00 in the morning, in the year 1719, of a fall from his horse that occurred the previous day as he was riding home from the Imperial Zoo at Bubenetz. He fell hard on the old castle steps where the wild horse had galloped with him. For several hours until his death he could not speak. He was 33 years of age. He was taken that same evening to Saint Thomas in the cloister of Saint Barbara”.
Even more so than in the Amant Malheureux, and to the same extent as Bach, Weiss provides us with a musical scenario that is charged with detailed symbolic content. My personal interpretation of this scenario is as follows : the first chords bring to mind the trumpets that announce the solemn event. The next chords, heavy and lethargic, suggest agony and are soon superseded by harmonic progressions that seem to recall the life of the deceased. A rising third figure brings to mind the edifying character that he maintained throughout life while the serene passage that closes the first part reminds us of our mortality and conscious submission to the will of destiny. The beginning of the second section suggests a dying breath and the suspended chords over a long pedal evoke the passage of time which confirms our destiny. The thundering which follows shows a revolt in the face of death and the ultimate combat that prevails until extinction (the ff chord). The descending melodic line that follows represents resignation. Strong choppy chords signal the arrival of death and the attendant drama of the loss of a loved one. This is accomplished while giving the impression that the final heart pulsations are being emitted. The suspended chords of the penultimate measure would suggest that where rhythm ceases, so also does life cease to exist. The diminished quality of the chords depicts the disintegration of the body that returns to ashes. Finally, the ascending line at the very end could be taken to represent the soul which rises to heaven.
The voluble Bourree (p.178) in C major is also untitled and requires technical versatility. It does not exist in any manuscript other than the London source. The following Menuet (p.180), which is also in C major, can be found as a Trio of another minuet of the Warsaw ms. Harmonically thin, it seems deliberately simplified, as though Weiss were writing for his son or a beginner. The structure strongly suggests a duo or other ensemble work, without necessarily excluding any of the charm of a solo piece. Once again, the easily recognisable Gloria in Excelcis Deo theme can be found close to the beginning of the piece. The work contains a fully ornamented repetition of the first section at the bottom of the page.
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