Cristopher Hasty Meter As Rhythm

day-o'connell.mech.
4 6/6/07 11:27 AM Page 1
Jeremy Day-O’Connell is
Assistant Professor of Music
at Knox College and author of
P entatonicism from the Eighteenth Century to
Debussy offers the first comprehensive
account of a widely recognized aspect of music
^
“The Rise of 6 in the 19th Cen- history: the increasing use of pentatonic (“black-
tury” in Music Theory Spec-
trum (2002).
Pentatonicism key scale”) techniques in nineteenth-century
Western art-music.
from the A more extensive and complex trend than has
Eighteenth Century been acknowledged, pentatonicism in nine-
teenth-century music encompasses hundreds of
to instances, many of which predate by decades
“Like the pentatonic idiom itself, this book is readily accessible yet surprisingly rich in evoca-
tive associations. Music theorists and historians alike will find much of value in this sophisti-
Debussy the more famous examples of Debussy and
Dvořák. Pentatonicism from the Eighteenth Cen-
cated exploration of a largely neglected topic.” tury to Debussy weaves together historical com-
jeremy day-o’connell mentary with music theory and analysis in order
—-William Caplin (McGill University), to explain the sources and significance of this
author of Classical Form: A Theory of Formal Functions important, but hitherto only casually under-
for the Instrumental Music of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven stood, phenomenon.
The book introduces several distinct cate-
“Jeremy Day-O’Connell has produced a richly textured study of the influence of pentatonicism gories of pentatonic practice—pastoral, primi-
in the central repertoires of European music. The topic bears on many crucial issues, from tive, exotic, religious, and coloristic—while also
sacred music to the exotic, and it is handled with proper concern both for musical technique demonstrating their frequent interaction. It
and for signification. This is a book that needed to be written.” shows how each of these categories derives
from musical, aesthetic, and ideological devel-
—Julian Rushton (University of Leeds), opments of the eighteenth and nineteenth cen-
author of Mozart and The Music of Berlioz turies. Finally, the book examines pentatonicism
in relationship to changes in the melodic and
“From the late Middle Ages onward, mainstream theorists have regarded resolution by semi- harmonic sensibility of the time.
tone as the hallmark of directed motion in music. In this fascinating and deeply researched In revealing multiple derivations and fluid
book, Jeremy Day-O’Connell welcomes us to the anhemitonic counterculture. The catalogue meanings, the book ultimately distinguishes
of musical examples alone (an anthology in all but name) is worth the price of admission.” pentatonicism from the octatonic and whole-
tone materials with which it has been conven-
—William Rothstein (City University of New York), tionally associated.
author of Phrase Rhythm in Tonal Music Central to the book’s interest and arguments
are the copious discussions of excerpts from
repertoire both familiar and forgotten. The gen-
erously illustrated text concludes with an addi-
tional appendix of over 400 examples, an
Cover design by Rob and Lori Reed of unprecedented resource that demonstrates the
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ISBN-10: 1-58046-267-7
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Pentatonicism from the
Eighteenth Century to Debussy
Eastman Studies in Music
Ralph P. Locke, Senior Editor
Eastman School of Music
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A complete list of titles in the Eastman Studies in Music Series,

in order of publication, may be found at the end of this book.
Pentatonicism from
the Eighteenth Century
to Debussy
JEREMY DAY-O’CONNELL
UNIVERSITY OF ROCHESTER PRESS

Copyright © 2007 Jeremy Day-O’Connell
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation,

no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system,
published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted,
recorded, or reproduced in any form or by any means,
without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
First published 2007
University of Rochester Press

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and Boydell & Brewer Limited
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ISBN-13: 978–1–58046–248–8
ISBN-10: 1–58046–248–0
ISSN: 1092–5228
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Day-O’Connell, Jeremy.
Pentatonicism from the eighteenth century to Debussy / Jeremy
Day-O’Connell.
p. cm. -- (Eastman studies in music, ISSN 1071–9989 ; v. 46)
Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index.
ISBN-13: 978-1-58046-248-8 (hardcover : alk. paper)
ISBN-10: 1-58046-248-0
1. Pentatonic scales. 2. Music--18th century--History and criticism.
3. Music--19th century--History and criticism. I. Title.
ML3812.D33 2007
781.2'65—dc22
2006036187
A catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
Disclaimer:
This publication is printed on acid-free paper.
Some images in the printed version of
Printed in the United States of America. this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook.
To view these images please refer to the printed version of this book.
For Sarah, Micah, and Gabriel
Contents
List of Illustrations ix
Acknowledgments xvii
Introduction 1
Part 1: Scale
1 The Rise of 6 in the Nineteenth Century 13
A. Theory: 6 in the Major Mode 13
B. Practice: Classical 6 21
C. Practice Against Theory: Non-Classical 6 28
D. Implications 34
E. Conclusion: Hearing the Subtonic 6 40
Part 2: Signification
2 The Pastoral-Exotic Pentatonic 47
A. The Imported Strain of Pentatonicism 47
B. The Domestic Strain of Pentatonicism (I):
Incipient/Intuitive Sources 60
C. The Domestic Strain of Pentatonicism (II): Overt Sources 84
D. Crosscurrents: The Pastoral-Exotic Pentatonic in Practice 92
3 The Religious Pentatonic 99

A. The Nineteenth-Century Restoration of Sacred Music 105
B. The Pentatonicism of Older Sacred Styles 108
C. The Theory and Rhetoric of the Chant Revival 116
D. Other Connections 124
E. The Religious Pentatonic 130
Part 3: Beyond Signification

4 The Pentatonic Glissando 145
A. The Harp in the Nineteenth Century 145
B. The Pentatonic Glissando 152
viii ❧ contents
5 Debussy and the Pentatonic Tradition 158

A. The Tradition of Signification 158
B. The Tradition of Non-Classical 6 160
C. Beyond the Pentatonic Tradition:
Debussy and the Twilight of Tonality 167
Afterword: Beyond Debussy 183
Catalogue of Pentatonic Examples

Preface to the Catalogue 195
Chronological Index of Catalogue Examples 197
Catalogue of Pentatonic Examples 205
Notes 475
Bibliography 499
Index 515
Disclaimer:
Some images in the printed version of this book are not available for inclusion in the eBook.
To view these images please refer to the printed version of this book.
Illustrations
Music Examples
I.1 The pentatonic scale 3
I.2 The pentatonic scale compared to the major scale 4
1.1 Raga Miyan-ki-Mallar 13

1.2 From Rameau, Génération harmonique (1737), p. 65 15
1.3 From Heinichen, Der Generalbass in der Composition (1728), p. 745 15
1.4 The essence of the major mode 17
1.5 Bach, Well-Tempered Clavier I (1722), #21 (with reduction) 20
1.6 Classical 6: typical contexts
(a) Mozart, Mass, K. 167 (1773), Gloria, end (reduced score);
(b) Mendelssohn, Symphony #1 (1824), ii, mm. 1–3;
(c) Brahms, Symphony #2 (1877), iii, mm. 1–4;
(d) Mozart, Magic Flute (1791), Quintet, #5 mm. 200–203;
(e) Beethoven, Piano Sonata, op. 79 (1809), iii, mm. 5–8 22
1.7
1.8
Chromatic chords in the major key with 6
Chopin, Prelude in D major (1839), mm. 1–4
23
23
1.9 Mozart, Piano Sonata, K. 281 (1775), i, mm. 5–8 24
1.10 Mozart, Piano Sonata, K. 330 (1783), iii, mm. 15–16 24
1.11 Haydn, String Quartet, op. 50 #6 (1788), Minuet, mm. 6–9 25
1.12 Beethoven, Symphony #6 (1808), i, mm. 67–74 25
1.13 Chopin, Prelude in F major (1839), mm. 1–2 26
1.14 Schubert, Piano Sonata, D. 664 (1819), ii, mm. 1–5 26
1.15 Chopin, Waltz, op. 18 (1832), mm. 22–27 26
1.16 Johann Strauss, Jr., Donauweibchen (1888), #2, mm. 5–10 26
1.17 Fauré, Barcarolle, op. 44 (1886), mm. 99–101 27
1.18 Mahler, Das Lied von der Erde (1908), “Der Abschied,” end 27
1.19 (⫽P292). Berlioz, Symphonie fantastique (1830–32), i, end
(with reduction) 28
1.20 Chopin, Etude, op. 25 #8 (1837), end 31
1.21 Chopin, Nocturne, op. 32 #2 (1837) 32
(a) Beginning of theme (m. 3); (b) Codetta of theme (m. 10)
1.22 Schubert, Winterreise (1828), “Gute Nacht” 33
(a) (⫽P191) mm. 71–75; (b) mm. 7–11
x ❧ list of illustrations
1.23 (⫽P283). Mahler, Symphony #1 (1888), iv, reh. 26 33

1.24 Joplin, Maple Leaf Rag (1899), beginning 34
1.25 (⫽P302). Brahms, Schicksalslied (1871), mm. 64–69 35
1.26 (⫽P304). Mahler, Symphony #5 (1902), i, mm. 9–14 35
1.27 (⫽P99). Wagner, Lohengrin (1848), I/3, mm. 42–44 35
1.28 (⫽excerpt of P325). Liszt, Requiem (1868), “Dies irae,” end 36
1.29 (⫽P321). Puccini, Messa di Gloria (1880), “Et incarnatus est,” end 36
1.30 (⫽P295). Tchaikovsky, Romeo and Juliet (1869), mm. 517–24 37
1.31 Vaughan Williams, “See the Chariot at Hand” (1930), mm. 4–9 38
1.32 Dvor¤ ák, Symphony #9 (1893), ii
(a) Cadence of first period, mm. 9–10;
(b) Cadence of first paragraph, mm. 17–19;
(c) (⫽P210) “Signature” cadence to end A section,
mm. 38–40; (d) Final cadences, mm. 112–20 39
1.33 Binchois, Chanson, “Adieu m’amour” (15th century) 41
1.34 Two possible reductions of the cadence in example 1.33 41
1.35 “Speech thirds”
(a) From Campbell, Songs in Their Heads: Music and Its
Meaning in Children’s Lives, 18;
(b) From Heaton, “Air Ball: Spontaneous Large-Group
Precision Chanting,” 81;
(c) The author’s transcription; (d) From Massin,
Les Cris de la ville, #277; (e) The author’s transcription 42
2.1 (⫽P1). Lully, Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme (arr. Weckerlin, 1883),

Turkish scene 47
2.2 (⫽excerpt of P2). Vogler, Pente chordium (1798), beginning 55
2.3 Croubelis, Symphony in D, “Dans le goût asiatique”
(1780), beginning 56
2.4 (⫽P3). Domenico Corri, The Travellers (1806),
I/3, beginning 57
2.5 (⫽excerpt of P4). Weber, Incidental music to Turandot (1809),
mm. 19–22 58
2.6 Rossini, “L’Amour à Pekin” (1857–68), Gamme chinoise 59
2.7 (⫽P40). Handel, Il pastor fido (1712), II/1, “Caro Amor,”
mm. 24–35 61
2.8 (⫽P41). Schubert, Winterreise (1828), “Frühlingstraum,”
mm. 5–8 62
2.9 (⫽P42). Liszt, Weihnachtsbaum (1876), #3, “Die Hirten an
der Krippe,” beginning 62
2.10 Beethoven, An die ferne Geliebte (1816), #5, “Es kehret der
Maien,” vocal entrance 62
❧
list of illustrations xi
2.11 (⫽P46). Johann Christoph Pez, Concerto pastorale (1700),

Adagio, beginning 63
2.12 (⫽P49). Handel, Messiah (1741), Pastoral Symphony, beginning 63
2.13 The overtone series 64
2.14 Haydn, Die Jahreszeiten (1801), Herbst, #29, “Hört! hört das
laute Getön” 65
2.15 Schubert, Symphony #9, D. 944 (1828), iv, beginning 65
2.16 Handel, Water Music Suite in F major (1717), Jig, end 65
2.17 (⫽P51). Gade, Comala (1846), #1, “Chor der Krieger und
Barden,” beginning 65
2.18 (⫽P54). Liszt, Fantaisie romantique sur deux mélodies suisses
(1836), mm. 454–55 66
2.19 Traditional hunting call, “Zum Wecken.” From Josef Pöschl,
Jagdmusik: Kontinuität und Entwicklung in der europäischen
Geschichte, ex. 212 67
2.20 (⫽P58). Giovanni Punto, Rondeau en chasse (1790s), beginning 67
2.21 The amateur hornist’s basic scale 68
2.22 Schubert, Piano Trio in B major, D. 898 (1828), i
(a) First theme, mm. 1–3
(b) Second theme, mm. 12–13
(c) (⫽P63) Transition to second group, mm. 51–53 69
2.23 (⫽P64). Gounod, Mireille (1864), IV/14, “Chanson,” beginning 70
2.24 Ranz des vaches, transcribed by Baumann in “Switzerland, II. Folk
Music,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Muicians, 2nd ed. 70
2.25 (⫽excerpt of P70). Rossini, Guillaume Tell (1829), Overture,
mm. 176–80 71
2.26 (⫽P80). Boieldieu, La Dame blanche (1825), I/1, “Choeur
des montagnards,” beginning 72
2.27 Two “news” carols
(a) “Tidingës true”; (b) “Nova, nova” 73
2.28 (⫽P93). Schoenberg, “Ei, du Lütte” (ca. 1898), beginning 73
2.29 (⫽P104). Brahms, “Wiegenlied” (1868), beginning 74
2.30 (⫽P112). Massenet, “Bonne nuit!” (1872), mm. 15–19 74
2.31 Anonymous, “Sumer is icumen in” (13th century), end 75
2.32 (⫽P127). Schumann, Album für die Jugend (1848), “Gukkuk im
Versteck,” beginning 76
2.33 (⫽P135). Vivaldi, Violin Concerto in A major, “Il cucu,”
RV 335 (1719), i, mm. 18–23 76
2.34 Liszt, transcription of Berlioz, “Scène aux champs” (third movement)
from Symphonie fantastique (1833), mm. 134–37 77
2.35 (⫽P148). Loewe, “Thomas der Reimer” (1860), m. 33 78
2.36 Electric doorbell 78
2.37 (⫽P158). Schumann, “Der Nussbaum” (1840), beginning 79
xii ❧ list of illustrations
2.38 (⫽P169). Chopin, Ballade in A major (1841), beginning 79

2.39 Weber, Der Freischütz (1821), I/3, Bohemian Waltz, beginning 80
2.40 Beethoven, Ländlerische Tänze, WoO 15 #3 (1802), beginning 81
2.41 (⫽P182). Beethoven, Deutsche, WoO 13 #5 (1797), mm. 17–24 81
2.42 (⫽P188). Brahms, Liebeslieder Waltzes, op. 52 #3 (1869),
“O die Frauen,” beginning 82
2.43 (⫽P72). Berlioz, Symphonie fantastique (1830–32), iii, beginning 82
2.44 (⫽P191). Schubert, Winterreise (1828), “Gute Nacht,” mm. 71–75 83
2.45 (⫽P195). Mahler, Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen (1883–96), end 83
2.46 J. C. Bach, Keyboard Concerto, op. 13 #4 (1777),
iii, end of theme, mm. 25–28 85
2.47 Haydn, setting of “Does Haughty Gaul” (1803), end 86
2.48 Haydn, setting of “Willy’s Rare” (1792), end 86
2.49 Beethoven, setting of “The Pulse of an Irishman” (1813), end 87
2.50 Mendelssohn, “Scottish” Symphony (1842), i, beginning 89
2.51 (⫽P217). Mendelssohn, “Scottish” Symphony (1842),
iii, mm. 9–16 89
2.52 (⫽excerpt of P241). D’Indy, Symphony on a French
Mountain Air (1886), beginning (reduced score) 90
2.53 (⫽excerpt of P242). Chopin, Krakowiak (1828), beginning 91
2.54 Polish folk melody, from Oskar Kolberg, Pieśni ludu
polskiego (1857), #441 91
2.55 (⫽P243). Borodin, Prince Igor (1869–87), I/1, choral
entrance, m. 29 93
2.56 (⫽P262). Rimsky-Korsakov, Sinfonietta on Russian Themes
(1884), reh. D 94
2.57 (⫽P265). Rimsky-Korsakov, Sadko (1896), Ballad of the
People of Vseslavitch, reh. 27 95
2.58 (⫽P266). Mussorgsky, Pictures at an Exhibition (1874),
“Promenade,” beginning 95
2.59 (⫽P24). Saint-Saëns, Samson et Dalila (1859–77), I/6,
Philistine chorus to the spring, end 96
2.60 Saint-Saëns, Samson et Dalila (1859–77), I/6, “Dance
of the Priestesses of Dagon,” beginning 96
2.61 Bizet, Djamileh (1871), #7, “L’Almée,” beginning 97
2.62 (⫽P23). Bizet, Djamileh (1871), #10, Duet, m. 255 97
3.1 (⫽excerpt of P338). Fauré, Requiem (1877),

“In paradisum,” mm. 1–15 100
3.2 Fauré, Requiem, “In paradisum,” mm. 17–20 (with reduction) 101
3.3 Fauré, Requiem, “In paradisum,” mm. 36–40 (with reduction) 102
3.4 Fauré, Requiem, “In paradisum,” mm. 51–end 103
3.5 Donizetti, La favorite (1840), opening chorus 104
❧
list of illustrations xiii
3.6 Gospel tone (LU, 114) 109

3.7 Psalmodic “prototype melody” 109
3.8 Gloria Patri Introit, 1st mode (LU, 12) 110
3.9 Agnus Dei, In Dominicis Adventus et Quadragesimae (LU, 66–67) 111
3.10 Agnus Dei, In Festis Duplicibus 4 (LU, 38–39) 111
3.11 Gloria, In Festis Duplicibus 4 (LU, 36–37) 112
3.12 Examples of “pentatonic residue” in Palestrina motets 114
3.13 Choron’s “Ionian” specimens. From Choron and La Fage,
Nouveau Manuel complet de musique vocale et instrumentale,
2:177, figs. 11 and 12 115
3.14 Two versions of Ein feste Burg
(a) Das Babstsche Gesangbuch (1545); (b) Hauschoralbuch (1844) 120
3.15 Censured passing tones (from Janssen, Les Vrais Principes
du chant grégorien, 1845) 122
3.16 Two Sanctus openings 124
3.17 The intersection of the religious pentatonic and the
primitive pentatonic
(a) (⫽P348) Liszt, Christus (1866–72), “Hirtengesang
an der Krippe,” beginning
(b) (⫽P349) Liszt, “Angélus! Prière aux anges gardiens”
(1882), m. 120 127
3.18 Strauss, Death and Transfiguration (1889), final cadence 128
3.19 (⫽P269). Bruckner, Os justi (1879), end 131
3.20 (⫽P281). Michael Haydn, Missa Sancti Aloysii (1777),
Gloria, beginning 131
3.21 The “Dresden Amen” in three versions
(a) (⫽P283) Mahler, Symphony #1 (1888), iv, “breakthrough”
theme, reh. 26
(b) (⫽P284) Wagner, Parsifal (1881), Prelude,
“Grail motif,” m. 38
(c) Mendelssohn, “Reformation” Symphony (1830) i, m. 33 132
3.22 “6–8” Amens in two nineteenth-century liturgical books 134
3.23 (⫽P293). Brahms, Alto Rhapsody (1869), end 134
3.24 (⫽P296). Puccini, Gianni Schicchi (1918),
“O mio babbino caro,” end 135
3.25 (⫽P322). Beethoven, Missa Solemnis (1823), “Dona,” mm. 26–31 136
3.26 Liszt, two versions of the same plagal cadence
(a) (⫽P323) Adagio for organ (1867), end; (b) Consolation #4
(1850), end 136
3.27 (⫽P326). Liszt, Christus (1866–72), “Resurrexit,” m. 357 137
3.28 Two cadences from Niedermeyer and D’Ortigue, Gregorian
Accompaniment (1857), pp. 62, 77 137
xiv ❧ list of illustrations
3.29 (⫽ excerpt of P344). Wagner, Die Walküre (1856), III/3,

Brünnhilde’s sleep, 17 from end 139
3.30 (⫽P356). Bruckner, Te Deum (1884), “In te, Domine,
speravi,” mm. 55–64 140
3.31 (⫽P363). Liszt, St. Elisabeth (1862), II/5, Elisabeth’s death
prayer, m. 42 142
3.32 (⫽P367). Liszt, “Invocation” from Harmonies poétiques et religieuses
(1848), mm. 52–59 142
4.1 Félix Godefroid (1818–97), Etudes mélodiques (posthumous),

#2, “Les Arpèges,” m. 9 146
4.2 (⫽P368). Parish-Alvars, Serenade, op. 83 (1846), mm. 30–31 147
4.3 Parish-Alvars, Grand Study in Imitation of the Mandolin,
op. 84 (1846), mm. 18–20 149
4.4 Bochsa, La Valse du feu (1847), mm. 17–19 151
4.5 Parish-Alvars, Grand Study in Imitation of the Mandolin
(1846), mm. 28–30 153
4.6 (⫽P379). Parish-Alvars, Fantasia, op. 35 (1838),
51 after Allegro con fuoco 153
4.7 (⫽P383). Parish-Alvars, La Danse des fées (1844),
26 after Allegro 154
4.8 Parish-Alvars, Grand Fantasia on “I Capuleti e i Montecchi”
by Bellini and “Semiramide” by Rossini (posthumous; 1850), end 155
4.9 (⫽P388). Thalberg, Nocturne, op. 16 #1 (1836), mm. 34–35 156
4.10 (⫽P414). Debussy, “Feux d’artifice,” from Préludes,
book 2 #12 (1913), mm. 17–18 157
5.1 Debussy, Printemps (1887), i, mm. 1–5 158

5.2 Ravel, Daphnis et Chloé (1912), “Lever du jour,” 1 before reh. 157 159
5.3 Debussy, “La Fille aux cheveux de lin,” from Préludes,
book 1 #8 (1910), beginning 160
5.4 Debussy, “La Fille aux cheveux de lin,” cadences 161
5.5 Debussy, “La Fille aux cheveux de lin,” reduction 162
5.6 Debussy, “La Fille aux cheveux de lin,” climax and
retransition (mm. 19–24) 162
5.7 Debussy, “La Fille aux cheveux de lin,” end 163
5.8 Debussy, La Mer (1905), i (“De l’aube à midi sur la mer”), end 164
5.9 Debussy, La Mer, ii (“Jeux de vagues”), mm. 249–54 165
5.10 Debussy, La Mer, ii (“Jeux de vagues”), end 165
5.11 Debussy, La Mer, iii (“Dialogue du vent et de la mer”),
mm. 266–70 166
5.12 Debussy, La Mer, iii (“Dialogue du vent et de la mer”),
mm. 254–56 166
❧
list of illustrations xv
5.13 Debussy, Khamma (1912), ii, “Première danse,” mm. 3–6 168
5.14 Common tones between pentatonic and whole-tone scales 168
5.15 Debussy, Voiles (1909). (a) mm. 22–24; (b) mm. 40–43 169
5.16 Debussy, Images pour orchestre (1909), “Rondes de
printemps,” mm. 161–63, with analysis of pitch content 170
5.17 Debussy, Images pour orchestre, “Rondes de printemps,”
mm. 60–62, with analysis of pitch content 171
5.18 Debussy, Pagodes (1903), mm. 1–6 172
5.19 Debussy, Pagodes, mm. 7–18 173
5.28 Debussy, Pagodes, end 181
A.1 Stravinsky, Le Chant du rossignol (1917), #1, reh. 6 184

A.2 Britten, Prince of the Pagodas (1956), Prelude, beginning 184
A.3 Vaughan Williams, The Lark Ascending (1914), beginning 185
A.4 Barber, Knoxville: Summer of 1915 (1947) 186
A.5 Argento, To Be Sung upon the Water (1972), #2, reh. 1 187
A.6 Honegger, Pastorale d’été (1920), mm. 36–38 188
A.7 Jerome Kern, “Ol’ Man River” (1927), refrain 189
A.8 Gershwin, “Nice Work If You Can Get It” (1937), verse 189
A.9 “Smokey” Robinson, “My Girl” (1964) 190
A.10 Jimi Hendrix, “Purple Haze” (1967) 190
A.11 Jimmy Page, “Stairway to Heaven” (1971),
beginning of guitar solo 191
A.12 Paul Simon, “Still Crazy After All These Years” (1975) 191
Figures
I.1 The pentatonic and chromatic as balanced about the diatonic 3
I.2 Musical elements of pentatonicism from the eighteenth
century to Debussy, and their sources 8
I.3 Conceptual elements of pentatonicism from the eighteenth
century to Debussy, and their sources 9
1.1 Mode within the continuum of the melodic domain 14

1.2 John Curwen, Standard Course (1880) 16
xvi ❧ list of illustrations
1.3 The major mode according to Zuckerkandl 18

1.4 The major mode as a “tonal terrain” 18
1.5 The “tonal terrain,” with octave equivalence 19
1.6 Tonal pitch spaces (after Lerdahl, Tonal Pitch Space, 161) 21
1.7 Pentatonic pitch space 31
3.1 The statistics of table 3.1 interpreted: A heptatonic

mode-6 chant reveals a pentatonic core 113
5.1 Summary analysis of Debussy’s Pagodes 180
Tables
1.1 Major-mode terminal plagal cadences to 1828 29
1.2 Plagal cadences with melodic 6–8 (terminal, except as indicated) 30
3.1 Some pentatonic statistics of example 3.11, Gloria

(LU: 36–37). Parenthetical data include ornaments
(a) and internal phrase markings (b). The data on motion
between f and d (c) include all such leaps within a
single phrase 113
3.2 A structuralist interpretation of the religious pentatonic 129
4.1 Tonal and melodic capabilities of the single- and

double-action harps 148
4.2 Enharmonic glissando capabilities of the single- and
double-action harps 154
Plates
3.1 Jean-François Millet, L’Angélus (1858–59) 125
3.2 François-André Vincent, La Leçon de Labourage (1798) 126
Acknowledgments
This book began its life as my PhD dissertation, and so I would like to first
acknowledge my doctoral committee at Cornell University. Thanks go above all
to my advisor, James Webster, who provided constant support, patient tutelage
and a humbling example; whatever good that I absorbed in my graduate years
as a thinker, a writer, and a teacher, I owe in greatest measure to him. Kofi
Agawu, though my teacher at Cornell only briefly, inspires me even years after
our studies together; his ghostly presence—sometimes welcome, sometimes
not—sternly accompanies me whenever I sit down to write. Steven Stucky’s keen
musical intuition and astounding knowledge of repertoire, as well as his refined
editorial sensibilities and eagle’s eye for detail, improved my work in very many
small but crucial ways. Finally, my thoughts turn to Ed Murray, whose involve-
ment during the early stages of this project was cut short by his illness and then
death in 2000; I cherish the memory of an incorrigible music lover and an
unusually humane, classy guy. It was a great honor and a great benefit to study
with these four teachers.
This book was completed in the four years since my doctorate. My post-
doctoral fellowship in the Lilly Fellows Program in Humanities and Arts at
Valparaiso University provided an ideal transition to the academic profession,
with its unique combination of the intellectual, the spiritual, and the collegial.
I want to offer a special word of thanks to Mel Piehl, Dean of Christ College at
Valparaiso, for encouraging me at that time to see my research through to com-
pletion as a book. That postdoc and especially my subsequent appointment as
Postdoctoral Fellow in Music Theory at the University of Chicago afforded me
the time and the resources to do so.
Many individuals over the course of many years have contributed ideas and
critique that have shaped the present work. Of these, the three anonymous
reviewers for Eastman Studies in Music, along with the series editor Ralph Locke,
should be singled out: their comments steered me toward important revisions
that have enhanced both the substance and the coherence of this book.
The considerable production costs entailed by a book of this nature have been
mercifully defrayed by subventions from several sources: the Music Department
of the University of Chicago, the Society for Music Theory, the Otto Kinkeldey
Publication Endowment Fund of the American Musicological Society, and above
xviii ❧ acknowledgments
all the Dean’s Office of my home institution, Knox College. Whatever may oth-
erwise be the merits of this book, its treasury of musical examples owes its exis-
tence and beautiful appearance to the generosity of these supporters, as well as
to the expert engraving of Jürgen Selk. Thanks are also due to designer Priscila
De Lima for her help with diagrams.
A version of chapter 1 was first presented at the annual meeting of the Society
for Music Theory (Atlanta, November 1999) and appeared in Music Theory
Spectrum (Jeremy Day-O’Connell, “The Rise of 6 in the Nineteenth Century,” Music
Theory Spectrum 24, no. 1 [Spring 2002], 35–67). A version of chapter 2 was pre-
sented at OXMAC 2000: British Music Analysis (Oxford, September 2000) as
“Pentatonic Exoticism Reconsidered.” A version of chapter 3 was presented at
both the annual meeting of the American Musicological Society (Kansas City,
November 1999) and the triennial joint meeting of the British Musicological
Societies (Surrey, July 1999) as “ ‘The Idea of the Infinite’: Pentatonicism as a
Religious Topos in Nineteenth-Century Music.” A version of chapter 4 was pre-
sented at the annual meeting of the College Music Society (Quebec City,
November 2005) as “Harps, Harpists, and the History of Harmony.”
My final work on this book was accompanied by the maddening exhilaration
of new fatherhood. My wife and two sons, to whom I lovingly dedicate the book,
have given me more than any dedication could tell.
Introduction
1. Pentatonicism in European Art-Music
Throughout the world musicians routinely, inevitably, eschew the vast contin-
uum of musical pitch in favor of scales—modest collections of discrete, more or
less fixed, notes. And among the limitless variety of potential scales, one, the
pentatonic, has long impressed commentators for its “truly extraordinary diffu-
sion” in world music.1 First described by Westerners variously as the “Chinese”
or the “Scotch” scale, the pentatonic scale figures prominently in such diverse
musical cultures as those of the British Isles, West Africa, Southeast Asia, and
aboriginal America, among many others.
The apparent ubiquity of pentatonic systems throughout the world contrasts
with the veritable monopoly enjoyed by heptatonic tonality in the “common-
practice” tradition. Yet, however stylistically insular seventeenth- and eighteenth-
century European concert music was in this respect, composers in the
nineteenth century undertook notable experiments using pentatonic materials.
In their quest for originality, nineteenth-century composers relaxed stylistic
boundaries and, in their engagement with certain aesthetic and ideological proj-
ects, grew increasingly attracted to pentatonicism, culminating especially in the
music of Dvo¤rák, Debussy, and Ravel.
While some of these compositional forays are familiar, the larger phenome-
non has scarcely been recognized in anything more than a superficial and anec-
dotal way in the literature. Instead, the current musicological account of this
well-known facet of music history consists mainly in the perpetual recycling of
conventional wisdom, such as that contained in the first edition of The New
Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians : “Pentatonicism has been explored by
several European composers, notably Chopin, Debussy, Puccini, Ravel, and
Stravinsky, often in pursuit of an exotic flavour. . . . ”2 This attribution of exoti-
cism is prevalent in the literature and is reasonable as far as it goes, but it neg-
lects a great many examples that have more complex, even altogether different,
motivations. Equally mistaken is the erroneous, but again typical, suggestion
that pentatonicism represents a strictly late nineteenth-century development,
with Chopin an anomalous forerunner.3 More successful accounts can be found
occasionally among French musicologists, but we ultimately encounter similar
limitations.4
2 ❧ introduction
Nineteenth-century pentatonicism in fact embodies a development in compo-

sitional style whose history and prehistory call for serious examination in ideo-
logical, analytical, and theoretical terms. Jacques Chailley understood the
breadth and depth of this topic, declaring, “It would be the subject of a deep
study, which certainly deserves to be undertaken.”5 This book answers Chailley’s
call. In it, I offer a complete reassessment of European pentatonicism, taking as
my starting point an extensive catalogue of pentatonic excerpts from music both
familiar and unfamiliar. This catalogue (included at the end of the book, and
indexed with “P” numbers) provides a hitherto unavailable resource that helps us
to discern a European pentatonic tradition, one whose extent, sources, and sig-
nificance are both wider and more complex than has been supposed. The cata-
logue reveals a pentatonic sensibility in virtually every major composer of the
nineteenth century; it includes fascinating, little-known early works such as
Vogler’s Pente chordium of 1798; and it indicates subtle stylistic continuities that
extend back to incipient melodic devices of the eighteenth century and earlier.
(Selections drawn from the catalogue have been copiously reproduced within the
text itself so as to aid the reader without undue interruption. They are intended
to be adequate in supporting the argument at hand. The more curious reader,
however, will also find cross-references to further items in the catalogue.)
2. Definitions and Disclaimers: Pentatonicism
Although pentatonicism appears to be a musical universal,6 claims of universal-

ity minimize the many historical, theoretical, and ethnographic problems
involved in generalizing about scales. Even within certain famously “pentatonic”
musical traditions, some apologists have questioned the accuracy and the apt-
ness of so totalizing a label;7 hence, what Trân Van Khe called the “king” of
scales may be better thought of as a great royal family.8 At the very least, one
should speak not of the pentatonic “scale” in world music (by which is typically
meant the scale corresponding to the black keys of the piano keyboard), but
rather of pentatonic “scales.” Asia itself contains a host of pentatonic systems,
revealing widely varying melodic usage. Whereas the Chinese system features
a pentatonic core plus two “pien-tones”—passing-tones that fill in the minor
thirds—Japanese gagaku, ostensibly founded on this same system, favors a dif-
ferent use of the pien-tones, which sometimes assume the role of metabole—i.e.,
substitution, rather than elaboration. The slendro tuning of metallophones in the
Javanese gamelan is pentatonic, though in this case the intervals are more nearly
equidistant, with “large” major seconds and “small” minor thirds incompatible
with any conventional Western temperament.9 (This very incompatibility may
explain Debussy’s fondness for both the whole-tone and the pentatonic scales,
each a rough approximation of slendro within twelve-tone equal temperament.)
Given the diversity of pentatonic styles throughout the world, then, any
attempt at defining pentatonicism is fraught with theoretical (to say nothing of
❧
introduction 3
Example I.1. The pentatonic scale.
political) difficulties. But define it we must, and the reader is asked to bear in
mind that the definition adopted here applies primarily to the rather circum-
scribed musical tradition studied in this book: the concert music of eighteenth-
and nineteenth-century Western Europe. I define the pentatonic scale as the
following subset of the major scale: 1–2–3–5–6–(8) (ex. I.1). Note that this
nomenclature retains the seven diatonic scale degrees even when referencing
the pentatonic scale per se: since my project is an examination of pentatonic tech-
nique within the Western art-music tradition, I acknowledge a constant tension
between the pentatonic and the diatonic.10 (Consequently, I also measure inter-
vals according to standard diatonic measures, for example, 3–5 as a minor third;
any exceptions to this practice will be signaled with scare quotes, as in “penta-
tonic step.”) This reflects my frank assessment of the pentatonic scale as mar-
ginal in the context of nineteenth-century musical life. Marginal though it was,
however, both statistically and conceptually, many of its practitioners were them-
selves far from marginal, and their compositional endorsement of pentatoni-
cism, as it were, albeit limited, is warrant enough for serious consideration.
Although certain features are shared between the diatonic scale and its
pentatonic sub-scale (namely, the stepwise 1–2–3 and the neighbor-note rela-
tion 6–5), the pentatonic will appear “gapped” as compared to the diatonic
scale—a common, if somewhat ethnocentric, description. Scruples over that
term are nevertheless unwarranted here, given this book’s purview: within the
context of common-practice music, the pentatonic scale’s musical and style-
historical import does reside precisely in these “gaps.” Melodically, they stand as
“omissions” of the two most implicative degrees of the major scale, 4 and 7; inter-
vallically, this results in a scale containing neither minor seconds (a so-called
anhemitonic scale) nor tritones. Hence the pentatonic not only differs from the
diatonic but can be further viewed in opposition to the chromatic, the three
scales situated conceptually as in figure I.1. Nineteenth-century pentatonicism
thus represents both a subtle shift in melodic sensibility away from common-
pentatonic 1 2 3 5 6 8
⇑
diatonic 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
⇓
chromatic 1 1/2 2 2/3 3 4 4/5 5 5/6 6 6/7 7 8
Figure I.1. The pentatonic and chromatic as balanced about the diatonic.
4 ❧ introduction
! !
diatonic infra-diatonic diatonic non-diatonic
Example I.2. The pentatonic scale compared to the major scale.
practice diatonicism, and at the same time a reaction against what must have
seemed the cloying tendencies of chromaticism.
The scale steps in the pentatonic system, as in the diatonic, come in two
brands, in this case measuring a major second and a minor third. The adjacency
relations in the pentatonic scale are hence distinguished by its minor third
“steps,” most importantly in the case of the tonic note: the lower adjacency to
the tonic, much celebrated in the diatonic system as the “leading tone,” 7, is
served in the pentatonic subsystem instead by 6. Some implications of this
crucial property will be explored in chapter 1. The minor third 3–5, though a
structural feature of diatonic tonality (part of the arpeggiation of the tonic
triad), is notable for being in a scalar sense infra-diatonic.
The distinctiveness of certain aspects of the pentatonic scale vis-à-vis the dia-
tonic recommends a less absolute definition of our subject of study. For while
the pentatonic scale is easily defined, it will be useful to refer more generally to
pentatonicism: a set of features peculiar to the strict pentatonic system. Example I.2
summarizes these features by classifying various portions of the pentatonic
scale vis-à-vis the diatonic. In addition to the precise scalar definition, then, I will
also recognize degrees of pentatonicism, gauged not only according to an
adherence to the five notes in question but also according to the prominence of
melodic motion highlighting the pentatonic “gaps.” Depending on the context,
then, collections involving fewer or more than five notes may nonetheless qual-
ify as pentatonic. Furthermore, the pentatonicism I describe will more often
appear in the melody alone than suffuse an entire texture (the pentatonic scale,
after all, supports only two triads, I and vi); it will more often characterize a sin-
gle passage than govern an entire piece; it may be thematic, ornamental, or
accompanimental. While its many localized appearances have long escaped the
notice of musicologists, in favor of paradigmatic examples such as Weber’s
Turandot or Debussy’s Voiles, it is sometimes these appearances that provide the
most fruitful ground for interpretation.
Considering such disclaimers, the reader may begin to wonder if pentatoni-
cism, as defined here, constitutes a viable subject after all. In using a single term
to describe all the phenomena under investigation, I make an ostensibly convenient
simplification, but no less a simplification than that embodied by the terms
❧
introduction 5
“diatonic” or “chromatic”: in each case the terms allow a broad interpretation

beyond their strictest definition, to the point that each ultimately represents
some segment of a theoretical continuum.11 If my reluctance to advance a more
dogmatic notion of pentatonicism strikes the reader as allowing undue subjec-
tivism, my catalogue of pentatonic and, as it were, pre-pentatonic examples is
offered in the interest of greater explicitness and as a potential site of contention.
The various connections revealed therein stand as a mute (or rather, wordless)
justification of the topic as I have conceived it.
According to my definition, the pentatonic “scale” is, properly speaking, a
“mode,” that is, with tonic 1. Although no nomenclature for the five pentatonic
modes has gained widespread acceptance, it seems reasonable to speak of the
“major” (1–2–3–5–6) and “minor” (6–1–2–3–5) pentatonic modes, owing to the
quality of their respective tonic triads. The remaining three modes might be
termed “Dorian” (2–3–5–6–1), “Phrygian” (3–5–6–1–2), and “Mixolydian”
(5–6–1–2–3) by extension, but these are less satisfying solutions—for instance,
the “Phrygian” pentatonic omits the very 2 that otherwise distinguishes the
Phrygian diatonic mode. (Equivalently, these modes may also be construed in
relation to the major scale as follows: Minor, 1–3–4–5–7; Dorian, 1–2–4–5–7;
Phrygian, 1–3–4–6–7; Mixolydian, 1–2–4–5–6.) Although each of the five
modes has been observed in various cultures, only the major and minor modes
support a tonic triad (of the conventional sort). Furthermore, in my research I
have not found any but the major pentatonic to have interested Western com-
posers, at least not before the late nineteenth century.12 For this reason, perhaps,
it has been widely granted special status as the “usual pentatonic,” the “common
pentatonic,” and the “tonal pentatonic.”13 To reiterate: throughout this book, it will
be referred to as “the major pentatonic” or, more often, simply “the pentatonic”
scale.
The pentatonic scale enjoys a host of acoustical and structural properties that
may be psychologically desirable.14 It is, first of all, a proper “system,” which is to
say that an interval may be reliably measured either in equal-tempered semi-
tones or in scale steps without contradiction.15 (The harmonic minor scale fails
this test: the distance of three semitones may either outline a scalar step, 6–7 or,
paradoxically, a scalar third, 1–3.) Among five-note subsets of the twelve-tone
aggregate, the pentatonic scale is “maximally even,” containing the most uni-
form possible distribution of pitches within the octave.16 Considered as a pitch-
class set (i.e., 5–35) the pentatonic scale’s interval content (<032140> in vector
notation) features “optimum tonal consonance”17 compared with other possible
pentads, and a “graded distribution” of intervals,18 otherwise known as “unique
multiplicity.” The pentatonic scale may be generated by a cycle of perfect fifths,
and it exhibits the “f to f property”: pentatonic keys with tonics a fifth apart dif-
fer in their scales by precisely one note displaced by a semitone.19 All of these
attributes secure certain advantages for composer, performer, and listener, and
therefore it is unsurprising that they are all shared by another scale popular the
world over, the diatonic.
6 ❧ introduction
3. Definitions and Disclaimers: Signification
As we have seen (and as will be discussed further in chapter 1), the scalar struc-
ture of pentatonicism subverts certain conventions of diatonic tonality.
Consequently, as a signifier, it may embody domains at the margins of traditional
Western experience. In the course of this book, I will introduce and document
several broad categories of pentatonic usage, beginning with the patently signi-
fying modes discussed in part 2. Here, pentatonicism will be shown to engage
with such antirationalist, anticultivated realms as the pastoral, the “exotic,” and
the “primitive” (chapter 2), as well as the spiritual (chapter 3). In short, the pen-
tatonicism of the nineteenth century largely referenced “lost” aspects of human
culture, the perceived utopias of a pastoral and spiritual past no longer possible
with the encroachment of urban, industrial lifestyles on the one hand and
Enlightenment humanism on the other. To recognize these various modes of
signification, however, is not to assume a divisive taxonomy. On the contrary, a
frequent implication of my heuristic is the fluid manner in which signification
can be shown to operate via a network of mutual interrelations among the cate-
gories, at times creating potentially complex webs of meaning.
Semiosis, the mechanics of meaning, is generally understood in terms of rela-
tions among a number of semiotic operators, whether two (Saussure), three
(Peirce), or five (Morris).20 In this book I focus primarily on referential mean-
ing and hence rely on the simplest model, which locates semantic content in the
correspondence between signifier and signified. Since a great deal of the pen-
tatonic practice that I document predates the emergence of “pentatonicism” as
either a term or even (except in the most specialized circles) a concept, we are
confronted with something of a historical vacuum, and thus neither the “poei-
etic” (intended by the composer) nor the “aesthesic” (understood by the lis-
tener) aspects of signification can be taken for granted. Rather, meaning must
be deduced from contextual cues (such as titles, performance indications, pro-
grams, and sung texts) as well as from the historical testimony of theorists and
critics. In any case, pentatonicism’s signifying modes and their historical genesis
sometimes need to be carefully teased out from historical facts and documents,
as in chapter 3 especially.
The semiotic mechanism may be described in a slightly more refined way by
enlisting one of Peirce’s trichotomies: his categorization of the sign-function as
“iconic” (signification via resemblance), “symbolic” (via convention), or “index-
ical” (via direct physical or causal connection). Both the iconic and symbolic
modes (but not the indexical) will be relevant here. For instance, insofar as a
pentatonic passage shares the quality of pentatonicism with a certain other musi-
cal object—say, Chinese music—the similarity will render an iconic mode of
signification. For the listener, of course, this iconic semiosis would, strictly speaking,
depend upon a working knowledge of Chinese music. Nevertheless, composers’
habitual use of such a sign could also foster a symbolic mode of signification. That
is, a listener might take note of the music’s difference (its “markedness”) along
❧
introduction 7
with its associative context (for instance, its coupling with a Chinese locale in an
opera); and having acquired this learned convention, that listener would possess
the capacity to infer the sign’s signification through the symbol alone, without
necessarily being aware of its status as icon.
Whether iconic or symbolic, the passage described here could be understood,
then, as “Chinese.” As Peirce points out, however, semiosis does not end there,
for “Chinese” is itself a sign and as such generates a further layer of significa-
tion—and theoretically so on ad infinitum. In practice, this formalized model
may be tolerably simplified by invoking the concepts of denotation (primary
meaning) and connotation (implied or consequent meanings), concepts that
will underlie many of my semantic observations and interpretations. Finally, I
will also allow for the possibility of innovative or ironic applications of other-
wise stable signs, a domain of inquiry linguists distinguish from semantics as
“pragmatics.”21
We may further qualify icons according to the specific type of similarity exhib-
ited between signifier and signified. Pentatonicism generally functions as the sim-
plest type of icon, the “image,” in which the resemblance is salient and literal. A
more abstract iconic relationship is that of the “metaphor,” in which the resem-
blance is conceptual or somehow mediated, “an extended parallelism of qualities
and relations.”22 For instance, insofar as the diatonic system is understood to
embody tonal “forces,” such forces operate via a self-evident metaphor of spatial-
ity and physicality; and insofar as the pentatonic subsystem annuls these forces, it
too conveys a metaphoric meaning, as will be particularly important in chapter 3.
It should be pointed out that the semantic mechanism I have described—a
mapping between signifier and signified—manifests the same types of ambigui-
ties and redundancies exhibited by spoken language. For one thing, since pen-
tatonicism is capable of denoting multiple signifieds, context will often be
necessary to establish its precise meaning in a particular instance. Conversely,
any one signified discussed in this book could be roughly conjured through
either pentatonic or non-pentatonic means. Still, subtle distinctions of meaning
will also be explored; as in language, there are no true synonyms in music.
Furthermore—and now in distinction to speech—composers, whatever their
semantic intentions, are always guided in greater or lesser measure by purely
musical concerns. It is clear that the inherent properties of pentatonicism,
above all its relative stasis, are incongruent with such venerable Western aes-
thetic priorities as harmonic progression and thematic development. For this
reason a composer, having broached a semantic realm with an initially penta-
tonic theme, might quickly devolve to diatonicism without necessarily compro-
mising the original effect. By the same token, a composer aesthetically disposed
to the tonal ambiguities of pentatonicism (Debussy, for instance) might choose
to sustain a pentatonic passage for its own sake, with apparently little regard for
the referentiality of the device. Indeed, part 3 concerns ostensibly non-signifying
uses of pentatonicism, chiefly in coloristic roulades and glissandi (chapter 4) but
also in more properly syntactic-structural capacities (chapter 5).
8 ❧ introduction
4. Summary and Prospectus
In short, pentatonicism, even within the context of European concert music, is not
an absolute but rather a nexus of compositional tendencies and expressive modes.
There are degrees of pentatonicism as well as a constellation of historical instances
and ancestries. Indeed, an important contribution of this book will be its engage-
ment with the manifold ways in which pentatonicism has been used and may be
understood. It will elucidate the commonalities of these various strands and hence
demonstrate the utility of my synthesizing term and concept. In particular, penta-
tonicism will be shown to exist as a musical, aesthetic, and ideological foil to the
conventional diatonic language inherited from the eighteenth century on the one
hand, and the increasingly chromaticized language of nineteenth-century music
on the other. It is not my claim that pentatonicism represented a central practice
in the nineteenth century, nor that the pentatonic techniques illustrated by the
catalogued examples participated in a single, identifiable lineage, whether histor-
ical or stylistic. My intention, rather, is to identify certain pentatonic procedures—
ones that were used discursively and in myriad ways—and to investigate both their
sources and their consequences for music and meaning. By way of anticipating—
but at the risk of oversimplifying—the results of this investigation, I present here
two figures distilling the chief musical elements (fig. I.2) and conceptual elements
(fig. I.3) of pentatonicism from the eighteenth century to Debussy.
Consonance, stasis
chs. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Overtone series Calling dyads

“Horn scale” ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ chs. 1, 2, 3
ch. 2 1 2 3 5 6 8
Black keys
Harp pedals
chs. 2, 4
Diminutions Hexachordal
of tonic triad melodies
chs. 1, 2
chs. 1, 2
Figure I.2. Musical elements of pentatonicism from the eighteenth century to

Debussy, and their sources.
❧
introduction 9
“Other”:
Transcendent
ch. 3
Religious chant
chant theory
acoustical image of spirituality
Nativity “ancient tonality”

“Good Shepherd” “noble savage”
Pastoral simplicity
consonance
Primitive simplicity
consonance
Exotic Asian music
Asian music theory
rustic instruments Greek theory
calls
Scotland “Cradle of civilization” “Other”:

Earthly
ch. 2
Figure I.3. Conceptual elements of pentatonicism from the eighteenth century

to Debussy, and their sources.
In this book, I will follow the various manifestations of this complex phenome-
non, which went largely unnamed by its practitioners or their contemporaries.
(The English term “pentatonic” first appeared in 1864, and German analogues
only ten years later.) I will elucidate and clarify composers’ motivations for their
pentatonic practice, but frankly, I intend to complicate things a bit as well. While
commentators naturally gravitate toward the clearest examples of a phenomenon,
I believe it would be wrong to take such examples as most representative of the act
of musical composition. After all, when faced with a blank sheet of staff paper,
composers do not normally reach for the textbook (whether real or figurative) but
draw upon a lifetime of musical experience and a set of organically formed intu-
itions concerning what note goes next. While Debussy’s Pagodes or Dvo¤rák’s
“American” Suite certainly epitomize pentatonicism, the largely un-self-conscious
excerpts discussed here are no mere predecessors. Pentatonicism, with its fluidity
of meaning and multiplicity of derivations, resembles traditional musical elements
more than it resembles the comparatively recondite whole-tone and octatonic
scales, with which it is so often unthinkingly lumped in present-day writing.
Part 1
Scale
Chapter One
The Rise of 6 in the

Nineteenth Century
A. Theory: 6 in the Major Mode
Ethnomusicologists and theorists of non-Western music maintain a useful dis-

tinction between “scale,” and “mode”: that is, between an abstract collection of
tones in a given musical tradition, and the actual conventions of melodic prac-
tice in that tradition. Example 1.1, for instance, illustrates the tonal hierarchy
and motivic dispositions that transform the undifferentiated pitch material of a
Hindustani that (“scale”) into a raga (“mode”), the governing syntax for a piece
or improvisation.1 In short, mode “is more than merely a scale.”2 While typical
inquiries into unfamiliar musical systems engage mode as a matter of course,
recent studies of the Western major scale have more often concerned scale as
scale, investigating group-theoretic and acoustic properties.3 These studies help
to explain the relative prevalence of a handful of scales throughout the world,
and to delimit those scales’ structural potentials, but they fail to address melodic
practice. Setting out along the musical continuum pictured in figure 1.1, we may
begin to explore the question of scales “in/as” music.
Western music, to be sure, has no proper equivalent of raga, and since the
Renaissance its theoretical and compositional discourse has been dominated by
harmony, rather than melody. Nevertheless, “modal,” or “syntactic,” aspects of
the major and minor scales reside firmly within the intuition of competent musi-
( )
Example 1.1. Raga Miyan-ki-Mallar.

14 ❧ the rise of 6 in the nineteenth century
SCALE <——————————— MODE ———————————> TUNE

“particularized “generalized
scale” tune”
Figure 1.1. Mode within the continuum of the melodic domain.
cians, and we may therefore strive to delimit these aspects, with the hope of illu-
minating analytical and style-historical issues. In this chapter I will discuss such
melodic principles, examining in particular the theory and practice of 6 in the
major scale (the most important degree of the pentatonic subsystem; recall ex.
I.2). By tracing the history and, as it were, the reception of this degree, I will
reinforce some well-worn formulations and at the same time offer new evidence
of what might be called a “second practice of nineteenth-century melody.”4 In
later chapters, I will extend my observations beyond the realm of syntax into that
of semantics (thus adding a further layer of correspondence with raga), provid-
ing the framework for hermeneutic insights.
1. Older Theories of the Scale
Technically, 6 was not 6 until the emergence of the major mode, and hence a
history of 6 might begin sometime during the seventeenth century. However, we
do well to recall the system of hexachordal solmization, which (alongside modal
theory) had dominated musical pedagogy for centuries before the seventeenth.5
During this time, the universe of diatonic material was conceptualized as super-
imposed transpositions of a stepwise unit encompassing not an octave but only
a major sixth: the hexachord. The hexachord embodied pedagogical consider-
ations in containing a single, uniquely positioned semitone, while it also repre-
sented a theoretical boundary in that the hexachord was the largest collection
which, when transposed from C to either G or F, introduced no new tones into
the gamut but stayed within the realm of musica recta.6 The hexachord must have
befitted the restrained ambitus of the monophonic repertoire for which Guido
d’Arezzo invented solmization in the first place. (Guido’s famous paradigmatic
melody, the Hymn to St. John, not only features successive hexachordal pitches
at the beginning of each phrase—the very property that satisfied Guido’s
mnemonic purposes—but in fact remains within the range of the hexachord
throughout.) Furthermore, several compositions attest to the hexachord’s con-
ceptual status as a self-sufficient musical entity: keyboard compositions by
Sweelinck, Byrd, and Bull, and a Mass movement by Avery Burton, whether
meant as self-conscious didacticism or not, use as cantus firmus the archetypal
sequence ut–re–mi–fa–sol–la.7 The reality of heptatonicism, of course, entailed
the frequent application of hexachordal mutation. Finally, around 1600, a new
solmization degree, si, gained increasing acceptance, though not without heated
❧
the rise of 6 in the nineteenth century 15
objection from conservatives: even as late as the eighteenth century, controversy

surrounded the relative merits of hexachordal versus major-minor thinking.8
Eventually, as the major-minor system coalesced, the leading tone became a
defining component of tonality, and the heptatonic octave finally emerged as
the unqualified foundation of musical pitch. But as important as 7 became in
common-practice harmony, it presented certain problems from the standpoint
of scale, at least when reckoned as the step above 6.9 In Jean-Philippe Rameau’s
model of the major scale (ex. 1.2), the step from 6 to 7 confounds the funda-
mental bass: in the course of harmonizing an ascending melodic scale, his nor-
mative harmonic progression by fifths breaks off at this point.10 The succession
of three whole tones, 4–5–6–7, strikes Rameau as “not at all natural,” and he
gives, therefore, a more roundabout octave ascent, which begins on 7, apparently
a compensation for an irregularity in the higher register, where 6 returns to 5
before a leap to the conclusive 7–8.11 A similar reluctance to bridge 6 and 7
characterizes Heinichen’s pedagogical schemata modorum for the figured bass
(ex. 1.3): although the bass line touches upon all the scale degrees, it does so within
a scale bounded by 7 on the lower end and by 6 on the upper.12 Over a century
later, Moritz Hauptmann’s aversion to a rising 6 would echo Rameau’s, but with
a characteristically Hegelian twist: since 6 is associated with subdominant
harmony and 7 with dominant, a succession from one to the other implies a har-
monic progression between chords that do not share a common tone, contrary
to the very foundation of Hauptmann’s theory. Hauptmann goes so far as to
describe a gap between the two degrees; and although he admits that the inter-
val in question is no larger than that between 1 and 2 or 4 and 5, his dialectical
system requires that, in the case of 6–7 the interval be considered a leap—even
one comparable in difficulty to the tritone.13 (Both Rameau and Hauptmann
Example 1.2. From Rameau, Génération harmonique (1737), p. 65.
6
4
6 56 6 56 2 6 6
Reg. 3. Reg. 5. Reg. 4. Reg. 6. Reg. 2.
Example 1.3. From Heinichen, Der Generalbass in der Composition (1728), p. 745.
ultimately relax their prohibitions through the introduction of secondary triads,

but in each case 6–7 enters with excuses.) The tradition continued into the twen-
tieth century, with Rudolf Louis and Ludwig Thuille again postulating a “gap”
between the major scale’s 6 and 7.14
Descriptions of the major scale, then, have historically cast 6 as something of
an upper boundary, notwithstanding the assumption of a seven-note octave. The
“modal” analogue of this view, moreover, emerged in the conception of 6 as a
tendency-tone directed toward 5. The notion of tendency-tones initially con-
cerned only the leading tone and, later, its tritone partner, 4, but starting in the
nineteenth century, theorists and pedagogues attributed melodic energy to 6 as
well. The English pedagogue John Curwen describes the non-tonic degrees as
tones of “suspense and dependence,” where not only 4 and 7, but 6 as well “leaves
no doubt as to its resting tone [5].” Curwen depicts 6 as a skyrocket, which, “hav-
ing reached its height, shines beautifully for a moment, and then softly and ele-
gantly descends.”15 Meanwhile, Curwen’s chironomy visually underscores the
character of each degree in the scale (fig. 1.2): here a down-turned palm and
sagging wrist (note the visual similarity with 4) signal the sixth degree, “LAH.
The sad or weeping tone. . . .”16 Simon Sechter’s account of scalar tendencies
Figure 1.2. From John Curwen, Standard Course (1880).

❧
revolved around the question of tuning: because of the “dubious fifth” between
2 and 6, treatment of the sixth degree, at least when supported by a ii chord,
requires preparation and downward resolution, as if a dissonance.17 Louis and
Thuille also characterize 6 as a downward-tending degree and for this reason
regard the minor subdominant as the consummation of subdominant function,
its flattened 6 magnifying the melodic tendency present in the natural 6.18 To
this day, our adoption of Rameau’s term “submediant” (sous-médiante) for 6
reflects primarily structural, as opposed to phenomenological, sensibilities,
whereas Fétis, true to his more melodic outlook, abandoned the term in favor of
the stepwise connotations of “superdominant” (sus-dominante).19
2. A Working Model of the Major Mode
Today a discussion of the major scale’s dynamic nature has become a near-oblig-
atory component of harmony textbooks, if only a token one. A broad consensus
exists concerning these dynamics, in which the “active”/“dynamic”/“depend-
ent” degrees progress stepwise to the “stable”/“static”/“principal” degrees of the
tonic triad.20 These features, summarized in example 1.4, embody two import-
ant aspects of what we may properly call the major mode: the primacy of the
tonic triad and the primacy of stepwise motion. While the former is a veritable
axiom of tonality, the latter is no less crucial a theoretical assumption. To
Heinrich Schenker, steps are “the true bearers of the contrapuntal-melodic ele-
ment,” critical to the transformation of pure harmony into living music.21 On a
practical level, stepwise motion correlates with the realities of vocal production,
the ultimate basis of melody; hence Hugo Riemann insists that “[melodic] pro-
gressions by step are always preferable to those by leap,” an oft-repeated pre-
scription related to Anton Bruckner’s and J. N. A. Dürrnberger’s more general
“law of the shortest way.”22 Indeed, the normative status of conjunct motion in
tonal melody partially explains our habitual, but ill-advised, equation of “mode”
with “scale.” Finally, an additional property indicated by example 1.4 is the pri-
macy—again, vocally derived—of melodic descent, what Hindemith calls
“undoubtedly the most natural [motion] in music,”23 which is trumped only in
the case of 7, by the “law of the half step.”24
One could improve upon this simple model by first of all recognizing a hier-
archy of stability among the three tonic-triad degrees: for instance, while 3 may
Example 1.4. The essence of the major mode.

Figure 1.3. The major mode according to Zuckerkandl. (©1956 Bollingen, 1984
renewed. Reprinted by permission of Princeton University Press.)
Figure 1.4. The major mode as a “tonal terrain.”
serve as the resolution of 4, a weaker but persistent attraction toward the distant
tonic note will remain to be satisfied. The forces, then, approximate a sort of
“tonal gravity,”25 with melodic pitch wending its way about the ridges of a rolling
hill, as in Victor Zuckerkandl’s diagram (fig. 1.3).26 Zuckerkandl offers a useful
illustration of 6’s double function as an upper neighbor to 5 as well as a passing
tone within motion from 5 to 8. The diagram, however, with its hump on 5, sug-
gests an effortless motion (visually, a descent) from 5 to 8, and thus accepts as
unproblematic the interval from 6 to 7. I prefer to recognize the unique nature
of the “terrain” in this upper fourth by placing the hump between 6 and 7, as in
figure 1.4.
Figure 1.4 takes account of 7’s attraction toward 8 as well as 6’s attraction
toward 5, while accounting also for motion between 6 and 7. Motion from 5 to
8, then, requires a certain investment of energy in overcoming 6’s downward
pull, but this investment is quickly paid off by the cadential impulse accrued by
7 toward 8. Conversely, motion down the scale from 8 must first escape the semi-
tone attraction, after which the descent continues with comparatively less effort.
(The steepest inclines of the terrain, moreover, correspond to the half steps 3–4
and 7–8.) Finally, we might complete the topographical metaphor by recognizing
❧
Figure 1.5. The “tonal terrain,” with octave equivalence.
the paradoxical nature of octave equivalence: the scale’s linear progression is

potentially circular (with 8 and 1 both tonics), and yet according to the precept
of “obligatory register,” not all tonics are created equal. The Escher-esque play
with perspective in figure 1.5 attempts to convey these competing ideas simulta-
neously: by some measures, 8 is “higher” than 1, while by other measures, the
two points are found to be at the same height after all, both enjoying the stable
state of tonic.27
This model of stepwise dynamics is, to be sure, just that: a model against which
to consider the reality of melody. Actual melodies trace circuitous routes
through the scale, enlivened with leaps and all manner of delayed resolutions.
Melodic behavior that diverges from the model’s prescriptions may represent
not a lack of cogency, so much as the exercise of artistic expression; the analyst
compares musical specimens to musical models precisely in the hope of gaining
insight into that artistic expression. Analysis, by addressing those context-spe-
cific details that contribute to a given piece’s individuality, reveals the myriad
ways that cogent melodies adhere to the spirit of the law, as it were, if not the let-
ter. The behavior of 6 in measure 2 of example 1.5, for instance, suggests three
compositional justifications for a non-stepwise resolution of this tendency-tone,
illustrated in the accompanying linear reduction:
1. the continuation of an established motivic pattern (6–8 echoes the earlier

unfoldings 3–5 and 1–3);
2. the ultimate recapture of 6 in the next beat, followed by its proper resolution to 5;
3. the presence, albeit at a deeper level of contrapuntal structure, of a poly-
phonic melody (6–8 as an arpeggiation within subdominant harmony).
N N N
(vi IV)
I ii V7 I
Example 1.5. Bach, Well-Tempered Clavier I (1722), #21 (with reduction).

❧
octave 1 8
triadic 1 3 5 8
diatonic 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
chromatic 1 1/2 2 2/3 3 4 4/5 5 5/6 6 6/7 7 8
Figure 1.6. Tonal pitch-spaces (after Lerdahl, Tonal Pitch Space, 161).
This last factor, while the least salient of the three, is perhaps the most rele-
vant to the current discussion, as arpeggiation may be thought to represent
stepwise motion of a higher order, the ad hoc bestowal of “honorary adjacen-
cies” among a harmony’s otherwise disjunct tones. Moreover, such honorary
adjacencies may operate on a number of levels, chiefly those enumerated in
Lerdahl’s model of hierarchical pitch-space, figure 1.6.28 Tonal distances thus
become contingent upon context, for a given note’s adjacencies may be an
octave away (as measured in octave space), a third or fourth away (in triadic
space), or a second away (in diatonic space). These levels express three basic
aspects of common-practice melodic orientation, namely octave equivalence,
arpeggiation, and stepwise motion. The model also formalizes the status of 6,
which, like its upper adjacency, 7, appears no higher than the diatonic level, but
whose lower adjacency, 5, appears one level higher. Both the orthodox
Schenkerian understanding of melodic motion—as an idealized force within
the substrate of harmony—and the concept of hierarchical pitch space help
explain the relationship between stepwise and non-stepwise motion, and both
will return later in provocative ways when considering a particular brand of
unusual motion from 6. First, however, it will prove useful to document and dis-
cuss the “classical” behavior of 6, that is, its normative role as the upper adja-
cency to 5.
B. Practice: Classical 6
1. Typical Contexts
Example 1.6 reviews the conventional syntax of 6 in some typical harmonic con-
texts. Just as the dominant cadence exemplifies 7’s normative role in the major
mode, the plagal cadence exemplifies that of 6 (ex. 1.6a). The chromatic sibling
of the embellishing plagal, the common-tone diminished-seventh chord (ex.
1.6b), also finds 6 falling to 5, while in another idiomatic harmonization, 6 dutifully
descends as the seventh of a leading-tone seventh chord (ex. 1.6c). In pre-dominant
a
a men, a men, a men, a men, a men.
5 7 6 6 5 6
3 4 4 4 3 5
Example 1.6. Classical 6: typical contexts. (a) Mozart, Mass, K. 167 (1773), Gloria, end
(reduced score); (b) Mendelssohn, Symphony #1 (1824), ii, mm. 1–3; (c) Brahms,
Symphony #2 (1877), iii, mm. 1–4; (d) Mozart, Magic Flute (1791), Quintet, #5, mm.
200–203; (e) Beethoven, Piano Sonata, op. 79 (1809), iii, mm. 5–8.
❧
contexts, 6 may rise to the leading tone (Sechter notwithstanding), but a super-
tonic seventh chord does necessitate 6–5 motion (ex. 1.6d) to avoid doubling 7,
which will follow instead as the resolution of the chordal seventh. Finally, in
chords applied to V, 6–5 motion becomes 2–1 motion (ex. 1.6e), and indeed, the
pivot relation 6⫽2 offers a favorite means of modulation and tonicization.
The sixth degree’s tendency to descend is commonly amplified through the
chromatic alteration 6. In fact, virtually all the favorite chromatic devices
within the major key—the Neapolitan, the diminished seventh, the minor
subdominants, and the family of augmented sixths—arise at least in part from
this chromaticization of 6–5 (ex. 1.7). The property of amplification explains
why a minor-tinged plagal cadence so frequently follows (and rarely precedes)
a standard plagal; the use of 6 as a rhetorical exclamation point after 6
can even assume motivic status in the course of a theme, as in example 1.8. By
contrast, 6 in major occurs infrequently, the much-discussed c in the first
theme of Beethoven’s “Eroica” Symphony providing the exception that proves
the rule.
6
II 6 V7 vii 7 I ii 65 I Ger V7
Example 1.7. Chromatic chords in the major key with 6.
Example 1.8. Chopin, Prelude in D major (1839), mm. 1–4.

2. A Semantic Digression
Stemming from its position as a de facto scalar extremity, classical 6 often plays an
important role in cadential formations, particularly in music of the Classic era.
Encapsulating both the melodic function of descent and the harmonic function
of subdominant, 6 catalyzes the subdominant-dominant-tonic progression trad-
itionally associated with tonal cadences, which helps to explain why Mozart’s stock
cadential scales often feature a high note on 6 (ex. 1.9).29 While this cadential 6-
scale capitalizes on the 6–5 progression, certain other cadential gestures simply
highlight the contour reversal implied by 6’s position at the outer reaches of the
major mode: in a particularly ubiquitous closural device, for instance (ex. 1.10),
6 is endowed with chromatic emphasis from below before descending within a
subdominant arpeggiation. Finally, example 1.11 illustrates a rather different
cadential cliché, a potentially awkward, but in fact idiomatic leap from 6 down to
7; this enterprising device represents a compromise which at once facilitates a swift
return to obligatory register, accommodates 6’s gravitational tendency, and enjoys
the stepwise connection between 6 and 7 (modulo the octave) while avoiding the
supposedly problematic ascending “gap” 6–7.30 These observations regarding 6’s
cadential usage correspond to what has been termed “introversive semiosis,” a sort
of interface between syntax and semantics.31 In the coming chapters, we will turn
to “external semiosis” that is, to fully referential meaning, of the sort alluded to by
Deryck Cooke, who characterizes 6 as expressive of “pleasurable longing” and
5–6–5 as expressive of “the innocence and purity of angels and children.”32
3 3
3 3
3 3
Example 1.9. Mozart, Piano Sonata, K. 281 (1775), i, mm. 5–8.
Example 1.10. Mozart, Piano Sonata, K. 330 (1783), iii, mm. 15–16.
❧
Example 1.11. Haydn, String Quartet, op. 50 #6 (1788), Minuet, mm. 6–9.
cresc.
V65 I
Example 1.12. Beethoven, Symphony #6 (1808), i, mm. 67–74.
3. Nineteenth-Century Extensions
Classical 6 appears to have grown in popularity in the nineteenth century,

for instance as a versatile appoggiatura, whether 6–5 over I or 9–8 over V7
(ex. 1.12). The figuration in example 1.13, however, a tonic arpeggio decorated
with 6, resembles something more like an undifferentiated tonal set—the added
sixth appears not as the highest note, but as part of a continuous descent. The
behavior of the note itself, resolving down to 5, adheres to the tradition, of
course, but its coloristic use displays an innovative and distinctly Romantic sen-
sibility. Another indication of 6’s expanded use is example 1.14, where
Schubert’s elegant appoggiaturas open each phrase, in blithe disregard for the
conventions of musical beginnings. The sixth degree, indeed, became a verit-
able hallmark of the salon and ballroom styles: the waltzes of Chopin and Strauss
(exx. 1.15 and 1.16) are peppered with these characteristic appoggiaturas on 6
(again, over both I and V7), no doubt harking back to the spirit of folk dance
delicatissimo
Example 1.13. Chopin, Prelude in F major (1839), mm. 1–2.
Example 1.14. Schubert, Piano Sonata, D. 664 (1819), ii, mm. 1–5.
Example 1.15. Chopin, Waltz, op. 18 (1832), mm. 22–27.
Example 1.16. Johann Strauss, Jr., Donauweibchen (1888), #2, mm. 5–10.
❧
8va
I add6
Example 1.17. Fauré, Barcarolle, op. 44 (1886), mm. 99–101.
I add6
Example 1.18. Mahler, Das Lied von der Erde (1908), “Der Abschied,” end.
and the world of Schubert’s Ländler (see chapter 2). The Strauss example
(ex. 1.16) demonstrates an increased freedom in usage—more “harmonic” than
“melodic”—but an eventual resolution to 5 does occur.
The flourishing of added sixth chords in the nineteenth century hardly
required deliberate cultivation: in reference to triadic harmony, the sixth is,
after all, the only chordal additive that forms a consonance with the root.
Although we cannot always distinguish between appoggiaturas and true added
sixths, the two concepts are useful ones; if the Chopin Prelude discussed earlier
(ex. 1.13) and the Strauss here represent stepping-stones from the one tech-
nique to the other, example 1.17 continues this trend, while the famous last
chord of Mahler’s “Der Abschied” (ex. 1.18) represents its apotheosis: the added
sixth does not resolve, but remains forever, “ewig.” We will revisit the tonic added
sixth in chapter 4, in connection with harp music.
Nineteenth-century composers’ seeming infatuation with 6, and the evolution
from 6–5 appoggiaturas to the use of additive harmony, are but two remarkable
strands in the history of 6. An apparently unnoticed, but even more fascinating

strand—6’s non-classical behavior—will concern the rest of this chapter.
C. Practice Against Theory: Non-Classical 6
1. Preliminary Examples
Ever since its premiere in 1830, Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique has commanded
attention for its revolutionary approaches to orchestration, harmony, form, and
program. One small innovation may be added to this list, a detail that appears
at the end of the first movement (ex. 1.19): a plagal cadence with melodic 6–8.
Although one may discern a more classical 6–5 just below the contrapuntal sur-
face—and the final chord, I/5 encourages this (see the reduction in example
1.19)—the foreground melody in these unassuming measures constitutes the
highly notable public debut of cadential 6–8.33 Indeed, table 1.1’s sampling of
plagal cadences before Berlioz reveals an unwavering preference for stepwise or
oblique motion in the melody, whether 6–5, 4–3, or 1–1, the three melodic par-
adigms given by A. B. Marx.34 This preference reflects the modal norms estab-
lished above and underscores the essentially ornamental nature of these
cadences as voice-leading prolongations of tonic harmony. Nineteenth-century
composers, on the other hand, embraced the leaping 6–8 cadence as a novel
and compelling gesture in its own right. Table 1.2 cites several instances, some
of which will be discussed below.35 (To obviate any potential confusion: what I
refer to in the remainder of this book as the cadential “6–8” [melody] should
religioso
Example 1.19 (⫽P292). Berlioz, Symphonie fantastique (1830–32), i, end (with

reduction).
❧
Table 1.1. Major-mode terminal plagal cadences to 1828.

Soprano
Arcadelt Ave Maria 1–1
Bach B-minor Mass, Credo 4–3
Handel Messiah, “And the Glory” 4–3
Messiah, “Lift Up Your Heads” 6–5
Messiah, “Hallelujah” 1–1
Anthem “O Be Joyful in the Lord,” HWV 246
#5 “O Go Your Way” 4–3
#8 “As It Was in the Beginning” 6–5
Anthem “I Will Magnify Thee,” HWV 250a 4–3
Anthem “I Will Magnify Thee,” HWV 250b 4–3
Anthem “As Pants the Hart,” HWV 251a 4–3
Anthem “As Pants the Hart,” HWV 251b 4–3
Anthem “As Pants the Hart,” HWV 251d 4–3
Anthem “My Song Shall Be Always,” HWV 252 4–3
Anthem “Let God Arise,” HWV 256a 1–1
Anthem “Let God Arise,” HWV 256b 4–3
Haydn Missa brevis in F, Benedictus 4–3
Missa brevis in G 1–1
Monteverdi Vespers, SV 206, i 6–5
Mozart Mass, K. 49, Agnus Dei 6–5
Mass, K. 167, Agnus Dei 6–5
Mass, K. 167, Gloria 6–5
Palestrina Missa Papae Marcelli 4–3
Purcell Te Deum and Jubilate in D, Z. 232 1–1
Schubert Mass #1 in F, Gloria 6–5
Mass #1 in F, Benedictus 6–5
“German Mass,” D. 872b 1–1
Antiphon for Palm Sunday, D. 696 #3 6–5
Antiphon for Palm Sunday, D. 696 #6 4–3
Salve regina, D. 386 1–1
not be mistaken for the cadential “6–8” [contrapuntal intervals] of medieval

music.)
As will be explained in chapter 3, the 6–8 cadence embodied a uniquely
Romantic spirituality for Berlioz and many others: the Protestant “Amen” con-
flated with the minor-third shapes of Catholic liturgical intonation. But the
Table 1.2. Plagal cadences with melodic 6–8 (terminal, except as indicated).
Berlioz “Hélène” (P231)
Requiem, Introit (mm. 164–65) (P306)
Rob Roy (4 after reh. 7) (P226)
Symphonie fantastique, i (P292)
Brahms Alto Rhapsody (P293)
Schicksalslied (mm. 68–69) (P302)
Chopin Etude in D major, op. 25 #8
Nocturne in C minor, op. 27 #1 (P305)
Fauré Requiem, “Pie Jesu” (P300)
Gade Comala, #1 (mm. 2–3) (P51)
Gounod Messe solennelle #4 in G minor, Agnus Dei (P316)
Messe brève in C, Gloria (mm. 41–42) (P317)
“Les Naïades” (P98)
Requiem, “Pie Jesu” (P318)
Grieg “Bell-Ringing,” op. 54 #6 (P152)
Liszt Sposalizio (P301)
Hungarian Coronation Mass, Sanctus (P303)
Marche funèbre (P308)
Organ Mass, Credo (P309)
St. Cecilia (reh. N) (P311)
“Herr, wie lange” (P313)
Missa solemnis, Sanctus (P314)
Mahler Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen (P195)
Massenet “Lève-toi”
Puccini Gianni Schicchi, “O mio babbino caro” (P296)
Messa di gloria, “Et incarnatus est” (P321)
Reyer “À un Berceau” (P216)
Saint-Saens “Le Matin”
Piano Concerto #5, i
Tchaikovsky Romeo and Juliet (P295)
Wagner Lohengrin, Prelude to Act 1 (P315)
cadence is found in a wide variety of pieces, not always explicitly programmatic,

and in general the 6–5 foreground connection is altogether absent—both
indications of the extent to which this development earned its place among the
fundamentals of musical procedure. A contrapuntal reduction of example 1.20,
for instance, would necessarily describe a connection between the melodic 6 and
the ensuing inner-voice 5,36 but this connection requires of the listener slightly
❧
8va
3 3
3 3
3 3 3 3
Example 1.20. Chopin, Etude, op. 25 #8 (1837), end.
(!)
triadic 1 3 5 8
pentatonic 1 2 3 5 6 8
diatonic 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
chromatic 1 1/2 2 2/3 3 4 4/5 5 5/6 6 6/7 7 8
Figure 1.7. Pentatonic pitch space.
more imagination than does the Berlioz (or more still, than the Bach above,
ex. 1.5). In fact, the melodic 6–8 here acts as a salient cadential “answer” to the
preceding, inversionally related 5–3 (itself a quasi-cadential Ländler gesture—
more on this in chapter 2). By its very nature—that of an ending—a 6–8 cadence
typically lacks any subsequent opportunity to evince the implicit neighbor rela-
tion 6–5. That is, short of an extension-cum-explanation (as in the Berlioz), one
must imagine the descent to 5 (or settle for its fulfillment in an inner part),
rather than merely await it—a not uncommon circumstance in contrapuntal
music, but one that helps to gauge the congruity of theory with practice and, by
implication, to gauge the expressive content of such moments.
2. A Theoretical Accommodation
The 6–8 cadence appears to violate the “law of the shortest way,” and more to
the point, it undermines the plagal cadence’s conventional role as a neighbor-
chord formation. In short, taking 6–5 as our analytical “foil,” we observe a qual-
itatively new brand of deviation from that foil. Moreover, the precise nature of
this deviation illustrates the potential interaction of scale and mode, both of
which are, after all, abstractions of melody. Bearing in mind Powers’s formula-
tion quoted earlier (mode as “particularized scale”), figure 1.7 represents its
logical extension in light of “non-classical” 6: scale as “generalized mode.” That
a b
3 3 3 3 3 3
Example 1.21. Chopin, Nocturne, op. 32 #2 (1837). (a) Beginning of theme

(m. 3); (b) Codetta of theme (m. 10).
is, this novel modal feature impels us to infer a new stratum of pitch-space along-
side our existing family of chromatic, diatonic, triadic, and octave spaces: pen-
tatonic space.37 By retaining the fundamental (scalar) principle of adjacency,
this model accommodates the possibility that composers actually construed 6–8
as a veritable “step,” and this possibility is borne out further in examples below.
Through our theoretical response to a subtle but pervasive change in practice,
we thus shift focus away from implicit, unheard adjacencies and celebrate
instead a new kind of adjacency.
The cadential 6–8 offers the clearest demonstration of pentatonic space, but
the “subtonic 6” may be implicated in non-cadential contexts as well, including
the neighbor chord par excellence, the common-tone diminished-seventh. The
progression in example 1.21, for instance, frames the piece’s theme, opening
with a tense chromatic neighbor 3–2–3, but later confirming the cadence with
the relaxed pentatonic neighbor 8–6–8. Example 1.22a gives a similar common-
tone progression, and although its 6–8, like that of the previous example,
appears to result from motion between two independent contrapuntal voices, a
comparison with its minor-mode prototype (ex. 1.22b) reveals another factor
that must have guided the composer’s decisions. Schubert’s two versions differ
precisely in their treatment of the submediant; hence, while middle-ground
counterpoint could have yielded a melodic leap in either case, it seems that
melodic proximity (b–d compared to b–d) provided the critical justification
for the leap in the major version.38
Furthermore, as should be expected, pentatonic space also posits the other
type of adjacency, the passing tone. For instance, the chorale theme of Mahler’s
First Symphony (ex. 1.23) accomplishes a pentatonic voice exchange: the pro-
longation of tonic harmony through “stepwise” contrary motion spanning the
“pentatonic third” between 5 and 8 (5–6–8/8–6–5).39 Such pentatonic passing
tones are unremarkable and in fact idiomatic structures in many musical trad-
itions, as is indicated by Scott Joplin’s execution of his own Maple Leaf Rag, tran-
scribed in example 1.24.40 Just as Joplin can be seen to have integrated
vernacular “African retentions” into his music, European composers’ traversal of
❧
Will dich im Traum nicht stö ren, wär schad um dei ne Ruh,
Fremd bin ich ein ge zo gen, fremd zieh ich wie der aus,
Example 1.22. Schubert, Winterreise (1828), “Gute Nacht.” (a) (⫽P191) mm.
71–75; (b) mm. 7–11.
3 3
(P)
sempre
Example 1.23. (⫽P283). Mahler, Symphony #1 (1888), iv, reh. 26.
pentatonic space relates in part to a growing interest in music outside of the

sphere of modern Europe, from the plainchant revival to exoticisms both
Northern (Ossianism) and Eastern (chinoiserie) to primitivism, each of which will
be explored in part 2. The various interactions of these influences with the
Romantic imperative of artistic originality and the inherent possibilities of
(as published, 1899)
(L.H. as played
by Joplin, 1916)
Example 1.24. Joplin, Maple Leaf Rag (1899), beginning.
Western diatonicism produced a subtle but momentous broadening of melodic

sensibility during the nineteenth century.41
D. Implications
Within pentatonic space, the progressions in examples 1.19–1.24 remain neigh-

bor or passing progressions, with 6 replacing 7 as the tonic’s lower adjacency, a
surrogate leading tone for the “plagal generation” of the nineteenth century. We
have thus arrived at a curious twist in the story of 6, where according to con-
ventional theory 6–7 resembles a leap, while according to practice 6–8 resembles
a step. Of special importance in the emergence of non-classical 6 are its various
implications in the realms of harmony, rhetoric, and structure.
1. Plagal Empowerment
First of all, 6–8 cadences embody a decidedly stronger version of the classical pla-
gal cadence, a means of “compensation”42 for the otherwise static quality of these
progressions. The voice leading in the classical plagal, with its parallel motion of
6–5 and 4–3, and the absence of any motion to the tonic, produce a somewhat
pale harmonic effect by comparison.43 The relative strength, then, of this “plagal
leading tone,” particularly its introduction of both contrary motion and motion
to the tonic, proves useful in accomplishing modulations, as in Brahms’s
Schicksalslied, example 1.25. Furthermore, 6–8 implies a unique harmonic pro-
gression: whereas 6–5, 4–3, and 2–1 may each suggest either plagal or dominant
cadential harmony, 6–8 determines plagal closure unambiguously, precisely ana-
logous in this regard to the authentic closure of 7–8.44 In this way 6–8 satisfies the
principle of “redundancy,” one of Leonard Meyer’s conditions for stylistic stabil-
ity.45 The implications of this property manifest themselves at the beginning of
Mahler’s Fifth Symphony (ex. 1.26), when an unharmonized 6–8 negotiates a
dramatic tonal shift to A major.46 Not unrelated, the migration of 6–8 to the bass
3
3 3
3
dolce
B : I
vi
= E : iii ii I
Example 1.25 (⫽P302). Brahms, Schicksalslied (1871), mm. 64–69.
c ? f ? A? A: (IV) I
Example 1.26 (⫽P304). Mahler, Symphony #5 (1902), i, mm. 9–14.
Leb’ wohl! Leb’ wohl! mein lie ber Schwan!
vi I vi I vi I
Example 1.27 (⫽P99). Wagner, Lohengrin (1848), I/3, mm. 42–44.

A men.
vi I
Example 1.28 (⫽excerpt of P325). Liszt, Requiem (1868), “Dies irae,” end.
cresc.
et ho mo fa ctus est.
cresc.
cresc.
cresc.
cresc.
cresc.
Example 1.29 (⫽P321). Puccini, Messa di Gloria (1880), “Et incarnatus est,” end.
represents another significant development, in the quasi-progression vi–I:

notwithstanding the two common tones, a vague sense of progression, and even
of cadence, is possible. Wagner’s Lohengrin (ex. 1.27) employs such a progression,
and here we find 6 at the intersection of the pastoral and the religious. The Dies
irae from Liszt’s Requiem (ex. 1.28) ends with a series of bass 6–8 progressions,
the closest thing to a structural cadence anywhere in the movement.
❧
2. Harmonic Innovation
Perhaps most important among its harmonic implications, melodic 6–8 allows
for a crucial new cadential harmonization. Namely, the danger of parallel fifths
now averted, 2 can serve as the bass of the cadential harmony, yielding the
increasingly common ii–I and ii7–I cadences, as in the Brahms above (ex. 1.25),
or the Puccini in example 1.29. Composers’ endorsement of the ii–I progression
consummates the gradual divergence that I have been describing between pro-
totype and practice. That is, through its own inherent possibilities, 6–8 came to
renounce its very origins by rendering the underlying classical 6–5 defunct.
These supertonic cadences thus illustrate the unfilial tendencies often latent
within style-history.
3. The “Picardy Sixth”
Beyond its consequences for the history of harmony, the emergence and accept-
ance of 6–8 also gave rise to rhetorical possibilities, in the explicit opposition of
pentatonic with chromatic. Especially when juxtaposed with 6 mixture, the
upward-leaping 6 generates an extraordinary effect, what might be called the
“Picardy sixth.” The coda of Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet (ex. 1.30), for exam-
ple, expresses an overwhelming sense of catharsis due to the cadential reversal of
the 6–5 motion: 6 is “redeemed,” or “lifted up,” first through its reinterpretation
8va
(8va)
Example 1.30 (⫽P295). Tchaikovsky, Romeo and Juliet (1869), mm. 517–524.
as 5, and continuing as 6 rises to 8. (Incidentally, both the Symphonie fantastique

and the Liszt Requiem discussed earlier also feature the Picardy sixth, a more
widespread phenomenon than might be suspected.)
4. Structural Resonances
Example 1.31 shows a simple antecedent-consequent period with a straightfor-

ward “interruption structure” based on a pentatonic lower neighbor, demon-
strating non-classical 6’s relevance to phrase structure.47 If 6 can act as a subtonic
cadential agent in its own right—taking the place of 7, the very cornerstone of
common-practice tonality—then what deeper structural consequences might
follow? The Largo of Dvo¤rák’s “New World” Symphony provides an illustrative
case study, as the cadences in this movement exhibit an unorthodox approach
to closure (ex. 1.32). The three cadences of the A section (ex. 1.32a, b, c) trace
a progressive shift away from authentic closure toward plagal closure, even as
each successive cadence assumes greater structural weight. The 6–8 cadence in
See the cha riot at hand here of Love, Where in my la dy ri deth.
Each that draws is a swan or a dove, and well the car Love gui deth.
Example 1.31. Vaughan Williams, “See the Chariot at Hand” (1930), mm. 4–9.
(Music adapted from the opera Sir John in Love. ©1934 Oxford University Press.
Used by permission. All rights reserved.)
a
ii 65 V7 I
V “11” I ii 65 I
ii 65 I ii 65 I
Ob. Vln.
vii 43 I ii 65 I
(IV) I
Example 1.32. Dvo¤rák, Symphony #9 (1893), ii. (a) Cadence of first period, mm.
9–10; (b) Cadence of first paragraph, mm. 17–19; (c) (⫽P210) “Signature”
cadence to end A section, mm. 38–40; (d) Final cadences, mm. 112–120.
example 1.32c, what proves to be the signature cadence of the movement,

receives a ii65–I progression to close the A-section of an ABA form. Depending on
one’s perspective, then, the cadence near the end of the piece (ex. 1.32d)—a
leading-tone analogue of this signature cadence—may be heard either as a long-
overdue, greatly anticipated return to classical norms of scalar behavior, or else
as a disruption of an idyllic pentatonic sound-world. According to the first inter-
pretation, the 6–8 gap had represented a curious anomaly mercifully filled in by
the all-important leading tone, and the structurally required dominant dis-
charge prevails, notwithstanding its unusual form as a viio43. I strongly favor the
second interpretation, which understands this inverted diminished-seventh
chord as a dissonant substitute chord that necessitates the gesture of continua-
tion embodied in the elided oboe and violin lines. True closure then arrives only
with the unharmonized 6–8 cadence at the end of the excerpt; a structural pla-
gal cadence thus emerges, a token of Dvo¤rák’s Arcadian pentatonicism.48
E. Conclusion: Hearing the Subtonic 6
In the absence of the leading tone, will a competent listener, conditioned to

expect that leading tone, welcome a 6–8 cadence as merely the next best thing?
Will the specter of 6–5 haunt such a cadence, creating that quintessentially
Romantic sense of openness that “reverberate[s] in the silence of subsequent
time”?49 Or can intra-opus considerations actually lead one to revise one’s tonal
understanding to such a degree as to accept 6–8 unconditionally? In short, to
what extent and under what circumstances can a listener negotiate between the
pentatonic and the diatonic strata of pitch space given in figure 1.7 above?
These rhetorical questions beg the delicate matter of musical ambiguity:
I believe that the incongruity between 6–8 as a “pentatonic step” and a “diatonic
third” confronts the listener as a musical-interpretive problem, for which I hesi-
tate to offer a single solution.50 This very ambiguity plays itself out in accounts
of the fifteenth-century so-called “under-third” or “Landini” cadence (ex. 1.33).
Salzer and Schachter, writers strongly informed by traditional views of tonal
voice leading, interpret this characteristic formula as a decorated leading-tone
cadence (as indicated in ex. 1.34a), while Sachs instead discerns the remnants
of a venerable melodic style, a “deeply inrooted principle of chained thirds,”
thus minimizing the leading tone (an interpretation that would correspond to
my hypothetical reduction in ex. 1.34b).51 Such equivocation is no doubt more
appropriate to fifteenth-century polyphony (a repertoire, after all, commonly
recognized by historians of tonality as transitional) than to a nineteenth-century
symphony. To be sure, notwithstanding its increasing currency in the nineteenth
century, 6–8 challenges common-practice norms only from the margins.
Nevertheless, the legitimacy of the subtonic 6 certainly benefits from its analogy
to 7, and it benefits as well from the ambivalent status of the minor third as a
leap—thirds, for instance, are the only leaps in Fuxian counterpoint that do not
❧
A dieu m’a mour et ma mai strais se,
Example 1.33. Binchois, Chanson, “Adieu m’amour” (15th century).
a ant.
becomes becomes
N N
b ant.
becomes becomes
N N
Example 1.34. Two possible reductions of the cadence in example 1.33.
require melodic reversal. And while 6–8 forms the larger of the two types of pen-
tatonic “steps” (i.e., three semitones versus the two spanning 6–5), and hence
violates the “law of the shortest way” even in pentatonic space, the size ratio
between the two steps is relatively moderate in the pentatonic system (3:2)
compared to the diatonic (2:1), implying a commensurate reduction in this
law’s forcefulness.
On a more fundamental level, the acceptance enjoyed by 6 as a subtonic alter-
native to 7 in nineteenth-century Western art-music raises the provocative ques-
tion of “naturalness” in music. Although in our present intellectual climate we
regard “naturalness,” “universals,” and “absolutes” as constructions, we do so too
hastily—too “absolute-ly”—for there is often reason to judge some phenomena
less constructed than others. Scale degrees offer an interesting case. The semi-
tone, after all, boasts less of a claim to acoustical pertinence than does the third.
Moreover, ethnomusicologists, in discerning a musical “common denominator”
of our species, cite “music that uses only three or four pitches, usually combining
You are a tat tle tale!

b
Air ball!
c
Ex tra! Ex tra! Read all a bout it!

d
Os, fer rail’, cuiv’.

e
Left! Left! Left Right Left!
Example 1.35. “Speech thirds.” (a) From Campbell, Songs in Their Heads: Music
and Its Meaning in Children’s Lives, 18; (b) From Heaton, “Air Ball: Spontaneous
Large-Group Precision Chanting,” 81; (c) The author’s transcription; (d) From
Massin, Les Cris de la ville, #277; (e) The author’s transcription.
major seconds and minor thirds.”52 Indeed, the apparent suitability with which
the bare minor third executes quasi-speech interjections—its “logogenic” status
as “the basic singsong interval,”53 whether among children, sports fans, street ven-
dors, or marching soldiers54 (see ex. 1.35)—raises the possibility of a connection
between the 6–8 cadence and Leonard Meyer’s principle of musical “acontext-
ualism” in the nineteenth century.55 That is, beyond the obvious ideological
attractiveness of “primitive” musical structures to the Romantic sensibility, it is
conceivable that these structures satisfy deeper psychological or anthropological
principles that themselves explain composers’ affinity to non-classical 6.
In any case, the story of 6 in the nineteenth century may ultimately amount to
little more than a footnote in a larger story, namely the story of plagal harmony.
But while 6–8 may be first and foremost a symptom of a shift in harmonic sensi-
bility, an inevitable experiment by plagal-loving composers in search of new possi-
bilities, the melodic dimension still offers a unique perspective on the history of
tonal music. For while the nineteenth-century tonal palette became crowded with
all fashion of chromatic “color”—rampant applied leading tones, modal scales,
symmetrical divisions, and enharmonic trapdoors—the bald omission of a note
from the common major scale represented a quiet counterrevolution, waged only
❧
intermittently, no doubt in part subconsciously, by many of the same composers

who ultimately brought common-practice tonality to its moment of greatest crisis.
***
The examples cited and discussed in the remainder of this book will display vary-
ing approaches to the treatment of 6, showing pentatonicism to be by turns
conservative and radical as a melodic style. Nevertheless, as I have tried to
demonstrate in this chapter, these poles may be thought of as loosely connected
by a continuum of musical practice. Such a conception resonates with my his-
torical understanding of pentatonicism as both a strange and a strangely famil-
iar musical resource.
In part 3 of this book, I will return to the more purely style-historical questions
raised in the current chapter. In the meantime, I will concentrate on historical
and ideological questions in part 2, in order to establish and explain the sign-
ifying functions of pentatonicism. I begin with a consideration of what has been
the pentatonic’s chief association in the Western mind—as an “exotic” scale—
before expanding our hermeneutic horizons to embrace the full scope of the
nineteenth-century repertoire.
Part 2
Signification
Chapter Two
The Pastoral-Exotic Pentatonic

A. The Imported Strain of Pentatonicism
The famous Turkish ceremony from Lully’s Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme (1670) is a

seminal instance of musical exoticism, boasting a modest assortment of conven-
tional exotic signifiers: a solemn march, a minor-mode aria accompanied in paral-
lel octaves, a handful of harmonic and melodic indelicacies, and perhaps most
notably, the unrefined monotony of the choral interjection shown in example 2.1.
This excerpt further contains a time-honored cliché of “otherness,” but one for
which Lully was not himself responsible: the orchestra’s pentatonic countermelody
(reduced here for piano), is in fact the work of J. B. Weckerlin, who prepared the
1883 vocal score. This countermelody has little to do with Turkish music, and
more to the point, it has little to do with the seventeenth-century lexicon of “exotic”
signifiers: not only does it contradict the widespread notion of “exotic” music as
hou, hou, hou, hou, hou, hou,
Example 2.1 (⫽P1). Lully, Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme (arr. Weckerlin, 1883), Turkish
scene.
48 ❧ the pastoral-exotic pentatonic
unaccompanied, but its unusual scalar material would have been scarcely known to
Lully and his contemporaries. Weckerlin’s creative but obtuse alteration belongs
squarely in the late nineteenth century, when pentatonicism had fully taken hold
in the imaginations of European composers. What happened in the two hundred
years between Lully and Weckerlin will constitute the subject of this first section.
1. Musical Exoticism in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries
The postmodern critique of Western culture has focused on patterns of belief

characterized by the principle of “alterity”—structures that construct or amplify
differences among groups and hence maintain systems of dominance and mar-
ginalization.1 These structures may operate both within a society and between
societies, and they often contain a cultural dimension, acquired modes of think-
ing and behaving that serve to define, endorse, and perpetuate political dispar-
ity. While in principle literary, visual, or musical depictions of foreign peoples
and places need not carry political implications, cultural scholars have tended
to assume that depicting difference necessarily fetishizes that difference and
entails either a valuing or a denigrating of what is different.2 According to this
interpretation, such depictions participate in ideology and therefore constitute
an “ism,” namely exoticism.
In contrast to its cousins in the other arts, musical exoticism saw only a limited
practice before 1800. The exoticism normally associated with music differs fun-
damentally from that of the plainly depictive arts such as literature or painting—
or rather, the latter arts allow for at least two distinct modes of exoticism,
corresponding to subject on the one hand and execution on the other. Hence,
Orientalist painting of the nineteenth century portrays its sultans, harems, and
minarets using the classically Western techniques of realism.3 This distinction
between form and content, though admittedly oversimplified, is less relevant
still for music, whose meaning flows directly from its materials. At a given time,
then, music’s capacity for novel “signifieds” relates to the flexibility of its mater-
ials. As Jonathan Bellman points out: “Eighteenth-century musical convention
required outside influences such as dances, or evocations of specific national
styles, to be better assimilated into the prevailing style. In the nineteenth cen-
tury, the idea of a prevailing style was becoming outmoded.”4
Miriam Whaples has offered two further factors to explain the apparent his-
torical lag in musical exoticism: the near-unanimous contempt displayed by
exegetes toward the unfamiliar musics they discussed, and the often sympathetic
stance of librettists toward exotic heroes and heroines, which precluded com-
posers’ musical “distancing” in opera.5 Hence, while the early eighteenth cen-
tury saw the birth of the French “oriental tale,” its would-be musical analogues
relied chiefly on nonmusical means for the exotic content. One detects not a
hint of exoticism from the “Chinese Man” of Purcell’s The Fairy Queen, for instance,
and one assumes that none was intended, the episode’s exotic atmosphere being
❧
the pastoral-exotic pentatonic 49
achieved instead by staging, including a fantastical garden scene with a parade

of monkeys. This example is not atypical, furthermore, in the ultimate insignifi-
cance of the exotic episode to the plot.
Nevertheless, musical exoticism, like program music in general, does trace its
history from well before its famous nineteenth-century exemplars, albeit in lim-
ited and varying degrees. The first foreign musical culture to have left a tangible
impact on western Europe was that of the Turks, the one-time besiegers of Vienna
about whom suspicions lingered well after the establishment of peaceful relations
in the middle of the eighteenth century. The Turkish military bands that would
have been heard initially as sinister and later as fashionable came to be associated
with Turks more generally and, by extension, with the Muslim world at large.
Turkish music, sufficiently strange while at the same time sufficiently familiar,
achieved a curious vogue, and a vocabulary of musical devices (only sometimes
derived from the ever-patronizing accounts of travelers and historians) ultimately
crystallized into one of the most characteristic topoi of the Classic Era. Thus
emerged the first recognizable exoticism in music, the “Turkish style.”6
In the late eighteenth century, the Turkish style coexisted alongside a closely
related incarnation, the style hongrois. As the Turkish style waned along with virtu-
ally the entire arsenal of Classical topoi in the early nineteenth century, the style hon-
grois flourished, proving versatile and germane throughout the century. Bellman
describes the style as more sophisticated and mature than its predecessor, no
longer a “topic,” but rather a full-fledged “musical language”: “the first wholesale
and conscious embrace of a popular music associated with a lower societal caste
by the composers and listeners of more formal, schooled music.”7 In the hands of
Weber, Schubert, Liszt, and Brahms, this language—the musical styles of
Hungarians and/or Gypsies, together with the popular associations surrounding
these “exotics within”8—served as poignant musical commentaries and ultimately
as badges of pride for the Romantic artist, who felt a strong kinship with a misun-
derstood, oppressed, and (supposedly) musically gifted nomadic people.
The nineteenth century witnessed experiments with all manner of exotic
effects, most notably in connection with the Orientalism (i.e., exoticization of
the Middle East) that took hold following Napoleon’s Egyptian campaign, but
also including exoticist treatments of Spain and the Far East. In contrast to many
of musical exoticism’s common devices—“irregular, jerking modulations,” “the
thrill of illicit pitches,” “sliding or sinuous chromaticism,” in short, the “ ‘wrong-
note’ principle”9—pentatonic exoticism contains no “wrong notes” and there-
fore holds a special place among markers of cultural difference. Let us now turn
to an exploration of its history and meanings.
2. West Meets East: Scholarly Pentatonicism from

Du Halde to Riemann
Europeans’ first awareness of pentatonicism apparently originated with the mis-

sionaries’ increasingly detailed accounts of China in the eighteenth century.
Matteo Ricci, the pioneering missionary of the late sixteenth century, reported
very little concerning Chinese music, and what he did report was uninstructive
and unfavorable. Ricci’s contempt for monophony, for percussion, and for what
he identifies only as “a lack of concord, a discord of discords,”10 strongly resem-
bles contemporary accounts of Turkish music.
The whole art of Chinese music seems to consist in producing a monotonous rhythmic
beat as they know nothing of the variations and harmony that can be produced by com-
bining different musical notes. However, they themselves are highly flattered by their
own music which to the ear of a stranger represents nothing but a discordant jangle.11
Over one hundred years later, Jean-Baptiste Du Halde’s four-volume

Description . . . de l’empire de la Chine et de la Tartarie chinoise (1735) improved on
Ricci with three pages on the subject of Chinese music, albeit a music still
deplored as “so imperfect that it hardly deserves the name.”12 Despite this autho-
rial condescension, Du Halde represents a significant milestone with his inclu-
sion of five transcribed “Airs chinois,” three of which are strictly pentatonic in
the major mode (with the remaining two strongly minor-pentatonic). Du Halde
does not comment on these examples, however, and the only description he
gives regarding musical detail concerns certain Chinese monks who “never raise
and lower their voice a semitone, but only a third, a fifth, or an octave.”13 This
formulation falls just short of coherence, for while he explicitly excludes the
semitone, he also implicitly excludes the whole tone, thus apparently describing
a triadic (or at least tertial) music. If it was pentatonicism that Du Halde
attempted to convey, this was a near miss.
Inadequate as Du Halde may have been as an analyst (to say nothing of an ethno-
musicologist), his short essay became required reading for later writers, for whom
the transcriptions no doubt provided an incalculable entrée. The first of Du
Halde’s airs would become famous through its adoption by Rousseau in his dic-
tionary article “Music,” offered so as “to put the reader in a position to judge the
different musical accents of peoples. . . .”14 Rousseau himself added nothing by way
of comment on the tune and in fact introduced some confusion with the erroneous
and inopportune inclusion of an f within what had been a strictly G-pentatonic
melody. Rameau, whose interest in Chinese music was entirely theoretical, made
passing reference to Du Halde in his last major work, the 1760 Code de musique pra-
tique, which contained an appendix, “Nouvelles Réflexions sur le principe sonore.”
Here the theorist explicated both Pythagorean and Chinese music theory and
their common foundation in the progression triple, which is to say, scale generation
by perfect-fifth chains. (The triple proportion 3:1 corresponds to the interval of a
perfect twelfth, while the ratio 3:2 gives the perfect fifth.) Rameau appears to have
been the first to claim that the Chinese “want there to be only five tones in their
Lu,”15 but pentatonicism per se interested him less than did the question of tuning,
for the “triple progression” yields intervals at odds with those of Rameau’s cher-
ished corps sonore (essentially, the overtone series). The systems of the ancients thus
❧
prove the universality of the triple progression while also demonstrating the addi-
tional need for the quintuple progression, which yields the pure thirds of just into-
nation, in accordance with the corps sonore.16
In the course of these observations, Rameau did pause to describe the
Chinese system. Apparently working from an inadequately translated Chinese
treatise—this the product of the young missionary Joseph Marie Amiot’s pre-
mature efforts17—Rameau produced two competing schemes, a whole-tone scale
and a pentatonic scale:
One of [the Chinese sources] gives it in this arrangement
sol la si ut dièse re dièse mi dièse

3 27 243 2187 19683 177147
one of the most ludicrous arrangements imaginable. But another author gives it as fol-
lows, in which only two missing notes are needed to agree with our scale, except for the
thirds, which are found to be out of tune compared to two major seconds.
sol dièse la dièse ut dièse re dièse mi dièse

6561 59049 2187 13683[sic] 17714718
Fortunately Rameau’s abstract speculations were complemented by a rare

organological specimen whose tuning matched the second of these scales,
an Orgue de Barbarie, brought from the Cape of Good Hope by M. Dupleix, who was kind
enough to give it to me, and upon which can be executed all the Chinese airs copied
in music in the 3rd volume of R. P. du Halde . . . which sufficiently proves that this last
Lu has reigned for a long time in China.19
Although these claims are in fact mutually contradictory—certain non-pentatonic

passages in Du Halde’s airs would be unplayable on the instrument described—
Rameau provides the first explicit account of pentatonicism, one that touches
upon both theory and practice.
Abbé Roussier took up Rameau’s investigation of ancient music, placing the
pentatonic scale within a succession of scales, from the primordial three-note
“Lyre of Mercury” to the diatonic “Lyre of Pythagoras.”20 Roussier differed with
Rameau, however, on a most fundamental level: whereas Rameau interpreted
the Chinese triple-progression as referring to frequency, Roussier insisted that it
refers to string length, thus prescribing a descending scale in the minor penta-
tonic mode, mi–re–si–la–sol–(mi).21 That so profound a disagreement could
exist between these two thinkers gives some indication of the dearth of practical
knowledge on the subject at the same time that it underscores the modal ambi-
guity inherent in the few pentatonic examples in circulation at the time.
The disagreement ran deeper still, as the question of ancient scales impinged
on a lightning-rod issue of the Enlightenment: the extent to which different
cultures share an ancient cultural past.22 Rameau had supposed that the Chinese
and the Pythagoreans developed their systems independently of one another,
but Roussier, with his unflappable skepticism toward Chinese music, proposed
instead the following sweeping historical inference: “The defect of this [whole-
tone] system and the imperfection of their [pentatonic] scale, whose gaps always
seem to call for other tones, make it quite easy to see that these two remarkable
systems are each but as debris of a complete system, which I attribute to the
Egyptians.”23 This “complete system” is none other than the twelve-tone scale,
which supposedly spawned both Chinese pentatonicism and its tonal comple-
ment, Western diatonicism.
In fact, as Joseph Marie Amiot revealed in his 1780 Mémoires concernant l’his-
toire . . . des Chinois, the twelve-tone scale had always been a chief preoccupation
of Chinese theorists.24 Intending to redress misconceptions arising from his ear-
lier work, Amiot offered a considerably more careful and nuanced treatment
than any previous expositions, the fruits of his two subsequent decades living
among the Chinese and studying their music. Amiot described the Chinese sys-
tem in detail as an essentially heptatonic scale within a twelve-tone universe,
from which two notes—the auxilliary “pien” tones—had been banished by the
“coarse scholars.”25 Continuing the ethnomusicological debate, Amiot con-
cluded in direct opposition to Roussier that it was the Chinese system that trav-
eled to the ancient West, not vice versa. In any case, for a musician who devoted
his life to China, Amiot displayed no more sympathy for the music of his
adopted home than did his less informed predecessors.
I can say that [Chinese airs] greatly bored me, I hope that they will not have the same
effect on those who take the trouble to decipher them. Here are several others that I
give notated only in our [i.e., the Chinese] manner.
From all I’ve said until now, I conclude, and the reader will no doubt agree with me,
that the Chinese are enormously little advanced in an art that today has been taken to
its highest point of perfection in our France in particular.26
As for practical information concerning Chinese music, Amiot transcribed only

a single example into Western notation, a pentatonic “Hymne en l’honneur des
ancêtres.”27 Nevertheless, Amiot represents the beginnings of an earnest treat-
ment of Chinese music theory.
Charles Burney, also seeking to correct and clarify previous writers, declared
Rameau’s major-mode interpretation of the five-note scale to accord with the
Chinese music he had studied, including the most famous of Du Halde’s airs.28
Burney introduced further elements to the anthropological questions sur-
rounding pentatonicism. For one thing, he appears to have been the first to
equate the Chinese scale with what he called “the Scots scale.”29 Furthermore,
according to Burney’s reading of Plutarch’s reading of Aristoxenus, the original
Greek Enharmonic genus probably corresponded to a gapped diatonic scale,
which in certain modes could have displayed this same anhemitonic five-note
❧
construction. Apparently wary of anthropological speculation, Burney exercised

caution in drawing conclusions, but he is the first writer for whom pentatoni-
cism bridges, rather than divides, East and West. He considers the pentatonic
scale both “natural” and “ancient,”30 as well as immune from the intonational
difficulties presented by 4 and 7.31 It must be said, then, that Burney stands as
the first commentator to demonstrate any sympathy to either Chinese music or
to the pentatonic scale, a fact that can perhaps be explained by the associations
he perceives with the more “legitimate” musical cultures closer to home.
Nevertheless, his attitude is ultimately derogatory, dismissing ancient scales as
“mutilated” and likening their practitioners to the “Lipogrammatists of antiq-
uity, who wrote long poems without the admission of a particular letter.”32
Whatever cultural interconnections Burney detected apparently escaped
Benjamin de Laborde, whose 1780 Essai sur la musique ancienne et moderne con-
tained among its musical spoils twelve mostly pentatonic Chinese tunes as well
as a strictly pentatonic Irish tune (the latter begging for comment). Laborde
rehearsed the involved theoretical derivations of Roussier and Amiot, as well as
the by now conventional interpretation of Chinese practice as (what we would
today call) pentatonic. It is understandable that future interpreters of Chinese
music would emphasize the latter more than the former, when the simplicity of
pentatonicism is so easily described: in correcting Rousseau’s errant f, Laborde
firmly claims that most Chinese music “is composed of only five notes, and has
as elements only that which the Chinese call the five tones, and which are here sol
la si re mi, in which there is neither fa nor ut.”33
Notwithstanding such unambiguous simplifications, the understanding of
Chinese scales seems to have been far from unanimous even in the nineteenth
century, judging from two prominent writers. Berlioz, reporting on a concert in
London, admitted both his ignorance and his curiosity regarding Chinese
scales: “My interest in hearing [the famous Chinese singer, the ‘Small-footed
Lady’] centered in the manner of the Chinese tonality and division of the scale.
I meant to find out whether, as so many people have said and written, they dif-
fer from ours. After my experience I concluded that there is no truth in the
report.”34 (Unexplored by Berlioz is the question of what, precisely, would con-
stitute scalar difference. If the music he heard contained pentatonic scales—a
fair, if unknowable possibility—one cannot say to what extent the open-minded
composer would have deemed them exceptional.35) Meanwhile, in 1840 Fétis
issued an expanded edition of his La musique mise à la portée de tout le monde, in
which a new chapter on exotic scales describes the “Chinese and Indian scale”
as F-Lydian.36 Later in his career, however, Fétis developed a deeper interest in
non-Western scales and described Asian music in greater detail, referring to its
lack of semitones as its “most distinctive feature.”37 Unlike his predecessors,
Fétis’s disdain for this feature derived unabashedly from his own theoretical out-
look, in particular his insistence upon what he felt were absolute laws of tonal-
ity. Thus the Chinese “underestimated the necessity of this interval of the
semitone, without which no musical art is possible, no sentimental emotion
aroused by melody, no modulation, no means to avoid the incessant return of

the same forms, and thus, monotony.”38
Fétis’s doctrinal convictions were matched at the time by more empirical writ-
ers such as Carl Engel and Hermann von Helmholtz, who celebrated what they
understood to be the pentatonic scale’s curious ubiquity. The substantial discus-
sion of the pentatonic scale in Engel’s 1864 The Music of the Most Ancient Nations
(apparently the originator of the term itself 39) is notable for being organized
around the scale per se, rather than around a particular musical tradition. Engel
calls the resemblance of Chinese and Scottish music “quite inexplicable,” while
acknowledging the common “traces” of the pentatonic scale in each tradition.
He further identifies the scale in Burmese and Javanese music, children’s songs,
and an Ethiopian harp.40 This apparent universality even caused Engel to
remark upon the lack of pentatonicism in printed music from Calcutta, attribut-
ing this to Western “corrections.”41 We thus observe a recognition of the validity
and value of other musical cultures (even if ultimately a “totalizing” one),
indeed, a concern with authenticity.42 Although both the universalist and prim-
itivist tropes gained widespread favor in the twentieth century,43 commentators
at the end of the nineteenth century had learned to be less decisive in their the-
orizing, humbled by a sharp increase in data. Hence Alexander Ellis, as if in
response to Fétis and Helmholtz, concludes that the world’s scales are “very
diverse, very artificial, and very capricious,”44 while Hugo Riemann, alluding to
the problems confidently tackled by Rameau and Roussier, self-consciously
evades the question of scalar priority among the ancients.45
No doubt contributing to this trend was an increase in opportunities like the
one Berlioz described: performances of non-Western musics more or less
unmediated by scholasticism. These same performances inspired the most
famous upsurge of Western pentatonicism, that of the Impressionists. And while
the more canonical examples of nineteenth-century pentatonicism occurred
around the same time and later, the history of pentatonic usage among Western
composers in fact extends back to the final years of the eighteenth century. That
history forms the subject of the next section.
3. Armchair Anthropology:
Pentatonic Exoticism from Vogler to Debussy
To my knowledge the first Western composer to use the pentatonic scale in a

thoroughgoing fashion was not Carl Maria von Weber, as is sometimes supposed,
but rather that eccentric musical alchemist, Abbé Georg-Joseph Vogler. His 1798
Pièces de clavecin, a veritable compendium of character pieces in various national
styles, contains a thoroughly black-key piece entitled simply, and enigmatically,
Pente chordium (ex. 2.2). The title ostensibly refers to an ancient, exotic instru-
ment, though one not listed in contemporary dictionaries. (Only Johann
Gottfried Walther’s 1732 Musikalisches Lexicon comes close, defining
❧
Example 2.2 (⫽excerpt of P2). Vogler, Pente chordium (1798), beginning. (From
Georg Joseph Vogler: Pièces de clavecin (1798); and Zwei und dreisig Präludien (1806),
Madison, WI: A-R Editions, Inc., 1986. Used with permission. All rights reserved.)
“Pentachordum” as “an arrangement or series of five strings. . . . ”46) Perhaps

Vogler encountered in his studies or on his travels a pentatonically tuned five-
stringed instrument (presumably one of Greek origin), or else he merely imag-
ined such a thing, inspired by writers like Roussier. In any case, as noteworthy as
Vogler’s experiment was for its time, the musical style is in fact tellingly conser-
vative, even retrogressive: throughout the piece, the harmony alternates
between tonic and dominant, and 6 behaves classically, as a complete upper
neighbor to 5. Vogler’s undeniably deliberate and self-conscious restriction to
the keyboard’s five black keys, therefore, results not in a saliently pentatonic
piece, but rather in an essentially triadic one.
Conservative though he was as a pentatonicist, Vogler’s active engagement
with the pentatonic scale contrasted starkly with the timidity of his contempor-
aries. None of the writers discussed above imagined the pentatonic scale to hold
any value as compositional material, but rather only as a theoretical curiosity or
as evidence for anthropological speculation. The relatively slow adoption of pen-
tatonic exoticism by composers suggests a similar skepticism on their part.
Simoni dall Croubelis, for instance, apparently intended to satisfy “Asian taste”
through the simple, even puerile cast of the theme in example 2.3. Like some
rudimentary etude, the glaringly predictable stepwise melody advances in a
Allegro con spirito
Ob.
Hn.
in D
Vn. I
Vn. II
Va.
Cb.
I
Ob.
I
Hn.
in D
Vn. I
Vn. II
Va.
Cb.
Example 2.3. Croubelis, Symphony in D, “Dans le goût asiatique” (1780),

beginning.
❧
Example 2.4 (⫽P3). Domenico Corri, The Travellers (1806), I/3, beginning.
square and steady eighth-note rhythm. While the hexachordal theme thus neg-
lects the recent discoveries of actual Asian music, its childish style nevertheless
alludes more generally to “a people of simple manners during the infancy of civ-
ilization.”47 For others, including Purcell (noted earlier) and Rameau, Asian
musical exoticism was apparently eschewed altogether.48
With the exception of Vogler, the first instances of pentatonic exoticism consisted
of borrowed, not composed, melodies, these garnered from the eighteenth-
century sources discussed earlier. Joseph Marie Amiot’s “Hymne en l’honneur
des ancêtres” served Domenico Corri in his 1806 opera The Travellers (ex. 2.4),
while two different tunes originating with Du Halde provided the requisite mate-
rial for character pieces by Weber and Friedrich Kalkbrenner. And despite the
best efforts of eighteenth-century writers, these practitioners demonstrated only
the most limited understanding. Weber’s knowledge of Chinese music apparently
ended at Rousseau’s Dictionnaire and its errant rendering of Du Halde’s “Air chi-
nois” (see above). No doubt oblivious to Rousseau’s mistake—and to its subse-
quent correction by both Laborde and Burney—Weber harmonized the theme
as it stood, wayward f and all, as the theme to his Turandot (ex. 2.5).49 Weber’s
unwitting compliance with this corruption gives some indication of the helpless
ignorance that was apparently typical of the early nineteenth century. Still, the
inadvertent “blue note” aside, the theme displays a thoroughgoing pentatoni-
cism, notable for having seized a Western composer’s quill, if not his affections.
Weber’s program note constitutes a forceful vote of “no confidence” in an over-
ture that in fact achieved some degree of popularity in Germany:50
Pipes and drum introduce the strange, bizarre melody which is taken up by the whole
orchestra and presented in a number of different shapes, figurations and keys. The
impression on the listener is not exactly pleasing, for this would mean going against the
nature of the melody, but it must be acknowledged to be a respectably conceived char-
acter piece.51
Vn. I
Vn. II
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
Example 2.5 (⫽excerpt of P4). Weber, Incidental music to Turandot (1809), mm.
19–22.
Beyond ignorance and ill will, another tendency in evidence among early pen-
tatonicists is the assimilationism practiced by Kalkbrenner, who raised the lead-
ing tones in one of Du Halde’s minor-pentatonic tunes (P5). The scarcity of
Chinese subjects in either dramatic or program music in the first half of the
nineteenth century places these pieces as exceptions within an exoticism that
normally connoted the Arab world, not the Far East. Nonetheless, motives from
Weber’s Turandot theme would later return in Cherubini’s Ali-Baba (P6), a testa-
ment to musical exoticism’s inattention to geographical fidelity.52 Further
echoes of the theme may be heard in André Messager’s Madame Chrysanthème
(P7); the theme of Saint-Saëns’s La Princesse jaune (P8) (also G pentatonic) is
perhaps a distant relative.
One of the earliest examples of a newly composed Chinese evocation owed no
less a debt to written treatises than did the musical borrowings just mentioned.
Rossini’s “L’Amour à Pekin,” from his late collection Morceaux réservés, suggests
a fetishization of scales, a kind of special compositional challenge (akin to the
one found elsewhere in the collection, the single-note melody of “Adieux à la
vie”). The curious form of “L’Amour,” actually a suite of seven short pieces, is
explained in the composer’s dedication:
SCALES
Some Ascents and some Descents
Two Chinese Scales, followed
by an analogous melody
The whole thing dedicated to my friend
M. Jobart Millionaire
(Ever the Humbug)
Rossini, 1867 53
❧
Andantino mosso
cresc.
cresc.
Example 2.6. Rossini, “L’Amour à Pekin” (1857–68), Gamme chinoise.
The “ascents” and “descents” in question systematically traverse a chromatic

octave, while the ensuing “Chinese scale” to which the vocal melody strictly
adheres comprises a whole-tone scale, recalling Rameau’s description from a
century earlier (ex. 2.6).54
A stronger impetus to composerly pentatonicism than published accounts
were the increasingly available performances of music from distant lands—
proof, as it were, of the scale’s musical feasibility. The Paris Expositions of 1867,
1878, and 1889 represented a momentous shrinking of the world, one enthusi-
astically welcomed by many contemporaries.55 Julien Tiersot proudly heralded
this unique situation in the very first line of his report on the 1889 Exposition:
“Rome is no longer in Rome, Cairo no longer in Egypt, nor the Isle of Java in
the Oriental Indies. All of these have come to the Champ de Mars, the
Esplanade des Invalides, and the Trocadéro.”56 But if the exotic presence at the
Expositions was ultimately meant to flatter the hosts through an unavoidable if
implicit comparison to the high culture of modern France,57 it also produced
the opposite effect. Composer and professor L. A. Bourgault-Ducoudray foresaw
in the 1878 Exposition the promise of a “rejuvenation” of Western music, whose
“two modes, the major and the minor, have been so thoroughly exploited”: “No
element of expression existing in a tune of any kind, however ancient, however
remote in origin, must be banished from our musical idiom.”58
Polemicists like Debussy found in the musical diversity a seemingly limitless
source for their contentious barbs. “Remember the music of Java which con-
tained every nuance, even the ones we no longer have names for. There tonic
and dominant had become empty shadows of use only to stupid children.”59
Further comparisons to the Javanese cast Palestrinian counterpoint as “child’s
play” and European music in general as “not much more than a barbarous kind
of noise more fit for a traveling circus.”60 These remarks appear directed as
much toward Debussy’s contemporaries as toward what must have seemed the
closed-minded historians of previous generations, by invoking the primitivist
trope while turning it on its head. Debussy’s opinion of exotic music contrasts as
much with Weber’s as his pentatonic usage contrasts with Vogler’s. And
Debussy’s pentatonicism became so integral as to legitimize the precarious dis-
tinction offered earlier, exoticism as content versus exoticism as technique: like
his contemporary Vincent Van Gogh, Debussy incorporated exotic devices more
for their own aesthetic sake than as signifiers per se.61 (According to Mervyn
Cooke, Pagodes is the only “Oriental” piece in which Debussy employed penta-
tonicism.62) Debussy’s exoticism, of course, embraced any number of approxi-
mations of non-Western musical devices, from pentatonic and whole-tone scales
(both related to the more or less equal-tempered Javanese slendro) to tone-
clusters and shimmering, quasi-metallic timbres, each of which satisfied certain
aesthetic priorities of Impressionism. The extent of Debussy’s pentatonicism has
been noted by many writers; its place in nineteenth-century music history will be
considered in chapter 5.63
Later we will refine our understanding of the exotic pentatonic, of which further
examples are found as P9–P39. Meanwhile, another vital strain of nineteenth-
century pentatonicism, seemingly distinct but in many ways related, is intro-
duced in the next section.
B. The Domestic Strain of Pentatonicism (I):

Incipient/Intuitive Sources
1. “Haven’t We Met?”: Pentatonic déjà vu
Earlier I presented Vogler’s Pente chordium (ex. 2.2), an unusually systematic use
of the pentatonic scale apparently arising from speculations on the music of
antiquity. Whatever Vogler’s motivations may have been, however, the black-key
nature of that piece reminds us of the simple fact that pentatonicism, foreign
though it was vis-à-vis European art-music, had been right under the noses of
keyboard musicians for centuries, all the while patiently awaiting their fingers.
Furthermore, we are reminded of pentatonicism’s status as a veritable corollary
of Western tonality: the stark appearance of those five notes upon the most pop-
ular Western instrument is, after all, an ironic result of the privilege bestowed
upon the diatonic scale within a twelve-tone universe. While black-key pieces are
rare, a broader lesson should nevertheless be taken to heart: both as the “nega-
tive space” of the diatonic scale and as a basic elaboration of the tonic triad, the
pentatonic scale is for Europeans an unassuming musical native.
In fact, long before Vogler’s Pente chordium (to say nothing of Debussy’s
supposed epiphany at the 1889 Paris Exposition), Western composers had
❧
possessed a generic, one might say an intuitive pentatonicism derived from the
tonal minimalism of pastoral and faux-pastoral music. Indeed, Western penta-
tonicism has generally favored pastoral subjects over exotic ones. The two char-
acterize ostensibly separate historical strands, an “imported” strand measuring
the distance between Orient and Occident and a “domestic” strand measuring
the distance between countryside and city, the distance between antiquity and
modernity serving as a common metric for both. As revealed in this section, the
domestic sources of pentatonicism are subtle and manifold.
2. Music of Meager Means: Drones, Triads, and Hexachords
Example 2.7, from Handel’s opera Il pastor fido, presents a simple pentatonic invo-
cation by Mirtillo, the “faithful shepherd” of Guarini’s pastorale.64 Handel’s pen-
tatonicism, striking in its own way and notable for its time (1712), nevertheless
hardly appears self-conscious or deliberate: rather, a modest triadic melody has
been outfitted with sparing diminutions, producing what might be called “inci-
dental” or “circumstantial” pentatonicism. Still, the programmatic intent seems
clear, the compositional execution perfectly straightforward; over a century later,
a similarly decorated triad would characterize another pastoral lover during a
rare moment of merriment (ex. 2.8).65 The simplicity of triadic diminution, how-
ever, is complicated by a peculiar asymmetry: in a diatonic context, the span
between chordal fifth and root (i.e., the interval of a fourth) normally involves
Ca ro A mor, ca ro A mor, sol per mo men ti
la scia in pa ce l’al ma mi a,
Example 2.7 (⫽P40). Handel, Il pastor fido (1712), II/1, “Caro Amor,” mm. 24–35.
Ich träum te von bun ten Blu men, so wie sie wohl blü hen im Mai,
Example 2.8 (⫽P41). Schubert, Winterreise (1828), “Frühlingstraum,” mm. 5–8.
Allegretto pastorale marcato
un poco marcato
Example 2.9 (⫽P42). Liszt, Weihnachtsbaum (1876), #3, “Die Hirten an der
Krippe,” beginning.
Es keh ret der Mai en, es blü het die Au’, die Lüf te, sie we hen so
Example 2.10. Beethoven, An die ferne Geliebte (1816), #5, “Es kehret der Maien,”
vocal entrance.
two passing tones, whereas a single passing tone suffices for each of the triad’s
other spans (the major and minor thirds). The ostinato in example 2.9, then,
shows how a desire for straightforward symmetry within the inherently unsym-
metrical triad yields a pentatonic passing tone between 8 and 5, a result that typ-
ifies a whole class of such melodies (ex. 2.10; see also P43–P45).
❧
These examples all illustrate the relationship between pentatonicism and the
major triad. An equally significant feature of the Handel aria (ex. 2.7 above) is
the tonic drone, perhaps the quintessential marker of rustic scenes. Drones sig-
nify through their allusion to the bagpipe and through their sonic representation
of folklife as carefree, simple, and slow. But one should also acknowledge the
non-pastoral contexts in which drones appear. The ponderous, dissonant, and
chromatic pedal point sections of a Bachian coda, for instance, make it clear that
pastoral pedal points owe their effect as much to the melody’s pretensions (or
lack thereof) as to the drone itself. It is the conjunction of melodic consonance
with the drone that generates the occasion for incidental pentatonicism. In this
regard it should be recalled that, of the secondary (i.e., non-tonic-triad) scale
degrees, 6 alone forms a consonance with the tonic, making it an ideal melodic
accessory to pastoral drones—and, as it happens, one suitably accompanied in
the parallel thirds typical of the pastoral topic (ex. 2.11; see also P47, P48).
The hexatonicism of the preceding examples acquires a further degree of
simplicity when restricted to the stepwise confines of the hexachord itself (ex.
2.12; see also P50). As well as satisfying the principles mentioned thus far, hexa-
chordal melodies represent the modesty of range that might be associated with
primitive instruments.66 Moreover, the hexachord would have contained an ide-
ological dimension relevant to its depiction of nature scenes. As was mentioned
in chapter 1, the eighteenth century saw the completion of a long historical
Pastorale
Adagio
Example 2.11 (⫽P46). Johann Christoph Pez, Concerto pastorale (1700), Adagio,
beginning.
Example 2.12 (⫽P49). Handel, Messiah (1741), Pastoral Symphony, beginning.

process that transformed the interlocking, mutating hexachords of medieval

music theory into the complete heptatonic octave. The transformation, though
virtually irreversible by the eighteenth century, was by no means settled, as ves-
tiges of the hexachord (“the first elements of music,” according to John
Hawkins67) endured quietly in both theory and practice; some conservatives
even continued to favor a hexachordal understanding of pitch-space.68 Thus the
hexachord, like folklife itself, was a revered but obsolescent facet of European
culture.
By adopting music of meager means to depict the simplicity of both rural life
and its primitive instruments, composers easily approximated (and in many
cases, actually produced) pentatonicism. The transparent, unpretentious tone
of these examples represents a calculated exaggeration of diatonicism, and it
was this tonal and melodic simplicity that formed the least conspicuous source
for nineteenth-century pentatonicism.
3. Nature’s Call
Horn calls
The preceding examples, in contrast to those related to the imported strand of
pentatonicism, depend not on mimicry but on exploiting certain natural prin-
ciples inherent in the diatonic system. Example 2.13 illustrates another, more
truly “natural,” principle available to musicians the world over: the “scale” that
is the overtone series, to which natural wind instruments are more or less bound.
From the hunting ground to the pasture to the postal route, this series has
served as the essential substance of horn signals.
In practice, of course, only a subset of the harmonic series is relevant to the
hornist. The technical difficulty of producing the higher harmonics restricts nat-
ural horn calls to the disjunct intervals prescribed by the lower harmonics. The
most humble instruments (for instance, those fashioned from an actual animal’s
horn) might produce but a single note and perhaps its octave, bearing infor-
mation by virtue of a distinctive rhythmic profile. More memorable are those
calls partaking further of the overtone series to produce a complete major triad
(ex. 2.14). While the triadic core of the horn style might seem unremarkable
within a common-practice tonal system in which, after all, the triad reigns, dis-
tinctive traits nonetheless emerge, including the open-ended calling dyad 1–3
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16
Example 2.13. The overtone series.

❧
Example 2.14. Haydn, Die Jahreszeiten (1801), Herbst, #29, “Hört! hört das laute
Getön.”
3 3
3 3
Example 2.15. Schubert, Symphony #9, D. 944 (1828), iv, beginning.
Example 2.16. Handel, Water Music Suite in F major (1717), Jig, end.
Andante
Hn.
Example 2.17 (⫽P51). Gade, Comala (1846), #1, “Chor der Krieger und
Barden,” beginning.
used as a summons to attention (ex. 2.15), and its inversion, the characteristic
gesture that came to be thought of as the “Ländler cadence,” 3–1 (ex. 2.16). It
is not surprising to also find rather loose interpretations of these horn thirds,
such as the pentatonic corruption shown in example 2.17, its 6–8 magically
8va
3
3
rit.
Example 2.18 (⫽P54). Liszt, Fantaisie romantique sur deux mélodies suisses (1836),
mm. 454–455.
synthesizing the rising contour of the summons call with the closure of the
Ländler cadence. The notion that 6–8 represents a logical—if not acoustical—
extension of the horn style is shown in two examples from Haydn, where
instruments other than the horn fill in what the natural horn might do, were it
better able (P52, P53).
Putting aside the tonally awkward seventh partial (approximately, 7), the next
new pitch-class to appear in the overtone series is the ninth partial, the inclusion
of which represents a qualitative leap forward in musical interest. This 2 intro-
duces a more compelling dichotomy of tonic and dominant than was possible
with the triadic notes alone. The resulting tetratonic “scale” 1–2–3–5 exists con-
ceptually between the triadic and pentatonic spaces and contains that quintes-
sential progression associated with the horn, the cadential duet in so-called
“horn fifths” (ex. 2.18). Further extending the horn’s range produces a har-
monic which, though often used for 4, is in fact closer to 4, one reason, surely,
that it is sometimes leapt over to the twelfth partial (the upper 5) yielding a
higher range in the 1–2–3–5 scale (P55, P56) and another prominent Ländler
cadence, 5–3 (P57).
As for the thirteenth partial (also mis-tuned), the amateur hornist would
encounter this rarely, but significantly, as Josef Pöschl explains with respect to
hunting signals:
The highest note, written a2, which in hunting calls in fact appears only twice, has the
highest information content as well. It is technically more difficult to reach, for which
reason it is reserved for expressive calls. “Zum Wecken” [Pöschl’s ex. 212, my ex. 2.19]
is one of the examples in which this a2 is reached straightaway by ascending motion.
The call lies this high so as to be heard distinctly and clearly by all.69
Such an effect is captured by the dramatic, quickly executed 6–5s in example

2.20 (see also P59–P61). The register above this high a appears to have been the
domain of professionals (Mozart demanded notes as much as a seventh higher).
Wa chet auf, Ihr Ge sel len, schon grüßt uns der Mor gen son ne Pracht.
Hun de laut bel len, vor bei ist die Nacht! Lieb chen, zu min nig li cher Lust
hab ich nicht Zeit, Hift horn mit sil ber hel lem Klang ruft zum Ge jaid!
Example 2.19. Traditional hunting call, “Zum Wecken.” From Josef Pöschl,
Jagdmusik: Kontinuität und Entwicklung in der europäischen Geschichte, ex. 212.
Allegretto
I
Hn. II
I
Hn. II
Example 2.20 (⫽P58). Giovanni Punto, Rondeau en chasse (1790s), beginning.

tetratonic nucleus
calling dyads
practical
pentatonicism
Example 2.21. The amateur hornist’s basic scale.
And although hornists from the mid-eighteenth century onward explored

techniques to circumvent the harmonic scale through the use of hand-stopping,
the horn’s enduring identity depended on those tonal idiosyncrasies derived
from the overtone series.
In short, the notes that are both natural and most practical on the horn com-
prise the gapped set illustrated in example 2.21: a five-note collection distin-
guished by a tetratonic nucleus 1–2–3–5, with an occasional 6–5 decoration at
the uppermost extent. These features, along with conventions of key (especially
E and D) and rhythm (the triple meters suggestive of the instrument’s
equestrian roots) coalesced into a well-defined topic, virtually unique among
eighteenth-century topics for its continued vitality throughout the nineteenth.
But as the associations with nobility (the “hunting class”) receded in the nine-
teenth century, horn calls came to imply the mystery and freedom of the forest,
“as the favorite musical topic of a restricted and decadent social group
turned into an artful interpretation of nature which belongs to all of
mankind.”70 This explains the appearance of a stylized horn call in a Chopin
Nocturne (P62)71 or the transplanted horn figure that gradually reveals itself as
the basis for the thematic material of the first group of Schubert’s Piano Trio in
B (ex. 2.22).
Although the distinction is not always obvious, a more exotic type of pastoral
call is that associated with cattle-herding, most famously the Alpine ranz des
vaches. In this case the English horn (less often, the French horn) generally
assumes the place of the rustic alphorn, to which the same acoustical principles
apply as above. In the ranz des vaches, though, the eleventh partial is more often
construed as f than as f, a peculiarity that yields a decidedly Lydian flavor in
many cases, while in other cases the note leaves behind a pentatonic wake
through its omission; the echo duet (another common device) of example 2.23
explores both possibilities in alternation. The upper octave’s 6–5 generally
assumes more prominence in the alphorn than in the hunting horn, offering a
characteristic registral extension, as in a ranz transcribed by Max Baumann
(ex. 2.2472); this “hexachordal peak” appears also in P65 and, in a more abstract,
stylized form, in P66. Also typical is the “horizontalizing” of horn fifths to pro-
duce leaps between 2 and 5, as in the Appenzeller ranz borrowed by Grétry, Rossini,
a Allegro moderato
3 3
3 3
3 3
3
3 3
3
c
3 3
3 3
3 3
3
3 3
3
3 3
Example 2.22. Schubert, Piano Trio in B major, D. 898 (1828), i. (a) First theme,
mm. 1–3. (b) Second theme, mm. 12–13. (c) (⫽P63) Transition to second group,
mm. 51–53.
Andante
Très modéré
dim.
Example 2.23 (⫽P64). Gounod, Mireille (1864), IV/14, “Chanson,” beginning.
Example 2.24. Ranz des vaches, transcribed by Baumann in “Switzerland, II. Folk
Music,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Muicians, 2nd ed.
❧
Andante
EHn. 3 3
dolce
Example 2.25 (⫽excerpt of P70). Rossini, Guillaume Tell (1829), Overture, mm.
176–180.
and Liszt, likely via Rousseau’s Dictionnaire (P67–P69).73 Rossini’s more extended
ranz from Guillaume Tell, this one newly composed, epitomizes both features (ex.
2.25).74 (More examples of the ranz appear as P71–P77.) Although violins rather
than double-reeds play the themes in P78 and P79, the proto-pentatonicism and
cyclic treatment of their motives suggests a connection with the other examples
of the ranz discussed here.
Vocal calls
In example 2.26, a rudimentary dyadic call 6–5 inspires a spirited hornlike
response by the choir, featuring the tetratonic nucleus and a Ländler cadence.
Such “vocalizing” of horn calls is a convenient option in dramatic music and has
been used since the Renaissance.75 Vocalized horn calls may embody simple
commands (P81), generic yelps (P82), or narrations that cleverly conflate the
story with its telling (P83). The vocal pentatonicism of Schubert’s “Rückblick”
(P84) shows itself to be horn-related only in the final line, with its characteristic
galloping triplets. (See also P85–P88.)
In addition to these evocations of the horn is a whole class of intoned calls
more native to the voice, what we may refer to as cries. Although the human
voice is exempt from the scalar limitations of natural horns, cries often display
features that are fortuitously congruent with the horn’s, notwithstanding their
apparently linguistic derivation. As discussed in chapter 1, the cries of street ven-
dors, the intoned speech used to call someone by name at a distance, and the
sarcastic chorus heard too often at high-school basketball games (“Air ball!”), all
suggest that dyads of roughly a minor third seem to occupy a realm somewhere
between music and language. Such thirds figured conspicuously in the pot-
pourris of street cries fashionable in the Renaissance, no doubt owing in part to
their congruence with the fifteenth-century chanson’s imitative textures and
“emerging triadic tonality.”76 A strictly ethological/linguistic explanation of such
thirds must account for their suitability as heightened speech. I suppose that
they represent a compromise between the constraints of amateur vocal produc-
tion on the one hand—the larger the interval, the more difficult to project a
consistent tone on both notes—and the constraints of melodic “scene analysis”
dolce
S.
Son nez! Son nez! Son nez cors et mus et te.

dolce
T.

dolce
B.
dolce
S.
Les mon tagn ards, les mon tagn ards, les mon tagn ards, sont ré u nis.
dolce
T.
dolce
B.
Example 2.26 (⫽P80). Boieldieu, La Dame blanche (1825), I/1, “Choeur des
montagnards,” beginning.
in noisy real-world situations on the other hand—the smaller the interval, the
more difficult to extract it from other environmental sounds, such as the bustle
of the marketplace. Such is presumably the impulse behind the opening calls of
two traditional “news” carols (ex. 2.27).
❧
a
Burden
Ti dingës true there buth come
Ti dingës true there buth come
Burden
No va, no va: A VE fit ex E VA.
Example 2.27. Two “news” carols. (a) “Tidingës true”; (b) “Nova, nova.”
Ei, du Lü te Sö te, Wit te, ei, du Lüt te, weerst du min!
Example 2.28 (⫽P93). Schoenberg, “Ei, du Lütte” (ca. 1898), beginning.
While street cries do not appear to have interested composers much since the
Renaissance,77 speech-melody has nevertheless endured in subtle ways. The ani-
mal beacons of P89 and P90 and the reveilles of P91 and P92 could all be said
to derive from voice and horn in equal parts, but the childlike flirtations of
example 2.28 (see also P94, P95) conjure first and foremost the world of pre-
musical vocalization. Cries may serve a wide variety of purposes, from robust ral-
lies (P96–P98) to farewells (P99–P101) to ecstatic expressions beyond words
(P102, P103). As will be explored in chapter 3, liturgical chant represents
another genre of purposefully heightened speech, likewise distinguished by a
“pentatonic residue.”
Lullabies
In a more intimate context, the heightening of speech may produce the calming
coos and entreaties that comprise the vocabulary of lullabies. Although lullabies
often favor chordal melodies (including arpeggiations of the dominant sev-

enth), strategically placed motives, like those by now familiar to the reader,
imbue the tunes with a tender directness: calling thirds (ex. 2.29; see also
P105–P107), gentle 6–5 appoggiaturas (P108–P110), and the hornlike tetra-
chord (P111). A string of calling motives quickly approaches pentatonicism
(ex. 2.30; see also P113–P117). Schubert’s “Des Baches Wiegenlied” (P118)
provides a telling synthesis of two genres: entitled a “lullaby,” it contains what
must surely be meant as a yodel (that is, a call) with the sudden leap into the
falsetto register and the quintessential calling dyads 6–5, 3–1, and 5–3. Finally,
soothing pentatonic codas aptly represent the attainment of sleep
(P119–P122), poignantly in the case of Mahler’s Kindertotenlieder (P122); the
harmonic placidity of pentatonicism hence becomes a sort of tonal analogue to
whispering.
Zart bewegt
Gut en A bend, gut Nacht,
Example 2.29 (⫽P104). Brahms, “Wiegenlied” (1868), beginning.
poco rit. a tempo
Bon ne nuit, bon ne nuit, bon ne nuit!
poco rit. a tempo
Example 2.30 (⫽P112). Massenet, “Bonne nuit!” (1872), mm. 15–19.

❧
Birdsong
One of the most codified markers of the pastoral is stylized birdsong, whose
dyads are often indistinguishable from the vocal and instrumental calls dis-
cussed thus far. The cuckoo, no doubt thanks to its harmonically unobtrusive
descending thirds, has held pride of place in the musical aviary, with a history
extending back to well before the transcription in Kircher’s 1650 Musurgia uni-
versalis.78 In fact, cuckoos were invoked in performance as early as the thirteenth
century: the famous round “Sumer is icumen in” (ex. 2.31; third voice from the
top) even features the untamed 8–6–8 variety, which was rendered all but extinct
by the regularization of 6 in the Baroque era. The most typical latter-day cuckoo
calls are hence those navigating the notes of the tonic triad, as is the case with
the children’s instrument used by Leopold Mozart in his “Toy” Symphony: the
Kuckuck in G plays nothing but the dyad 5–3.79 The 6–5 dyad has been used to
mimic the nightingale and other unspecified birds (P123–P126). A juxtaposi-
tion of various dyads produces a more tuneful elaboration of the basic style
(ex. 2.32; see also P128–P130), or else it may convey a virtual ornithological
dialogue (P131, P132).
Vivaldi developed a veritable formula for bird cadenzas, with rapid fluctua-
tions between 5 and either 1 (8) or 6 (P133–P135.) Such a cadenza in example
2.33 includes an improbable quasi-pentatonic escape-note figure, 5–6–1. These
lively cadenzas evoke both the bird’s spontaneous spinning of melody as well as
the brisk fluttering motion of its wings, which, when sustained, constitute
Wel sing es thu Cu cu, Ne swick thu na ver nu.
Cu cu, Cu cu, Wel sing es thu Cu.
Mu rie sing Cu cu. Cu cu, Cu.
Bul loc ster teth, buc ke ver teth, Mu rie sing Cu cu.
sing Cu cu, sing Cu cu.
sing Cu cu nu, sing Cu cu.
Example 2.31. Anonymous, “Sumer is icumen in” (13th century), end.

1.
Immer sehr leise
Example 2.32 (⫽P127). Schumann, Album für die Jugend (1848), “Gukkuk im
Versteck,” beginning.
Example 2.33 (⫽P135). Vivaldi, Violin Concerto in A major, “Il cucu,” RV 335
(1719), i, mm. 18–23.
instances of Klangfläche, the device of simulated motion within harmonic stasis

that Dahlhaus has identified as the essence of nineteenth-century musical
nature-imagery.80 (See also P136–P138.) Klangfläche likely inspired the artistic
license of Liszt, whose transcription of Berlioz’s “Scène aux champs” from
Symphonie fantastique augmented the original with an extended measured trill on
5 (ex. 2.34). Perhaps the most distinctive and famous birdsong of the nineteenth
century, from Wagner’s Siegfried (P139), epitomizes all the traits discussed here,
but in its languorous duration and suspension of time it breaks from the stylized
dyads of the eighteenth century, embodying a more Romantic conception of
birdsong as “a form of infinity” (see also P140, P141).81 (More bird calls are
given as P142–P147.)
Bells
The tonal requirements involved in depictions of bells have less to do with the
details of the overtone series than with bells’ sustain and consequent need to
❧
6
6 6 6
dolce calando
6 6
6
quasi niente
Example 2.34. Liszt, transcription of Berlioz, “Scène aux champs” (third move-
ment) from Symphonie fantastique (1833), mm. 134–137.
mutually harmonize. They are therefore often portrayed with familiar thirds
(ex. 2.35; see also P149), but also with 5–6–5 neighbors (P150, P151). (See also
P152.) Large church bells will peal at wider intervals still (P153, P154), or else
toll monotonously, providing a hospitable accompaniment to a pentatonic
melody (P155, P156). In Ravel’s “La Vallée des cloches,” the rich overtones of
bells inspired the use of quartal harmonies that in turn generate a pentatonic
melody (P157).
Glö cke lein,

8va
Example 2.35 (⫽P148). Loewe, “Thomas der Reimer” (1860), m. 33.
Example 2.36. Electric doorbell.
Other calls
The foregoing sections beg for synthesis. In short, I understand prominent
dyads of the major second and major and minor thirds as signs of a “vocative”
(“calling”) mode of communication, as well as of simplicity, innocence, and nat-
uralness in general. A modern suburban descendent of these vocatives is given
in example 2.36.82 Understood generically as a call, its precise derivation—
whether as a cuckoo, a horn call, or a chimes—is unclear and unimportant.83 By
the same token, generic calls, absent of semantic cues of text, performance
instruction, or instrumentation, echo throughout European music in subtle
ways. Musically these calls are distinguished by their delicate balance between
openness and closure, and hence resonate with Romantic conceptions of musi-
cal time.
Such calls may establish or enhance a pastoral mood (ex. 2.37; see also
P159–P161), reflect a childlike simplicity (P162, P163), or “freeze” time through
ostinato-like repetition, creating an evocative sonic tableau (P164, P165). They
may enact an actual call generated “within” a piece, as from a chorus of peasants
welcoming the spring (P166), or they may function more abstractly, indicating,
for instance, a distant “swell of music on the wind” (P167) or an unnamed sound
of nature (P168). Furthermore, calls may operate on an entirely different level of
musical meaning when understood as a rhetorical device: they may communicate
“to without,” placing the listener as the “called,” and pricking the ears to an intan-
gible, intriguing message. This almost subliminal device suffuses the opening of
Chopin’s Ballade in A (ex. 2.38; see also P170).
Allegretto
Es
grü net ein Nuss baum vor dem Haus,
Example 2.37 (⫽P158). Schumann, “Der Nussbaum” (1840), beginning.
Allegretto
mezza voce
Example 2.38 (⫽P169). Chopin, Ballade in A major (1841), beginning.

4. Dance
One of the most common sites of intersection between art-music and its folk
inspirations is that of dance music. Dance forms are normally distinguished by
purely rhythmic characteristics,84 but tonal idiosyncrasies may figure as well.
One instance of this is the prominent use of 6 in the waltz and related forms, a
feature whose rustic derivation is suggested by certain of Schubert’s Ländler
(P171, P172; see also P173–P175). In addition, a strictly practical function for
the waltz 6 may be inferred from Marx’s comments on Weber’s Freischütz waltz
(ex. 2.39): “We see in the above piece auxiliary tones placed before the pure
chord tones in the melody in order to set the first step in relief; every other
melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic sharpening . . . serves the same purpose.”85
Strategically placed neighbors and appoggiaturas, that is, impel physical motion
in dancers (P176–P181), just as they depict the physical motion of birds. This,
along with the tendency in dance music toward symmetrical structures and a
pronounced tonic-dominant polarity, makes 6 the ideal melodic adjunct: 5, the
tone common to I and V, is often a melodic anchor (ex. 2.40), to which 6 serves
as the most natural accessory (ex. 2.41; see also P183).86 It is therefore difficult
to know whether it is the Viennese influence or the Scottish (see below)
that accounts for the prominence of 6 in several écossaises by Beethoven and
Chopin (P184–P187). In any case, it was in the Austrian dance genres that the
conventionalization of 6 led to its gradual emancipation during the nineteenth
century, its melodic tendency rendered increasingly abstract (ex. 2.42; see also
P189, P190).
Example 2.39. Weber, Der Freischütz (1821), I/3, Bohemian Waltz, beginning.
❧
Example 2.40. Beethoven, Ländlerische Tänze, WoO 15 #3 (1802), beginning.
Trio
dolce
Example 2.41 (⫽P182). Beethoven, Deutsche, WoO 13 #5 (1797), mm. 17–24.
5. Irony and Tragedy
The essence of pastoral pentatonicism’s signification lies not chiefly in specifics

but rather in the semantic commonalities of those specifics. That is, beyond con-
veying an actual bagpipe, ranz des vaches, lullaby, or rustic dance, the pastoral
pentatonic conveys more generally the innocence, purity, and simplicity of the
outdoors and its (supposedly) childlike inhabitants. But the depiction of pas-
toral subjects also contains the possibility of a more nuanced, personal mode of
expression, that of a nostalgic longing for innocence. Moreover, the expansive-
ness and mystery of the natural world, which so enthralled the Romantics, may
T.
O die Frau en, o die Frau en,
B.
II
Example 2.42 (⫽P188). Brahms, Liebeslieder Waltzes, op. 52 #3 (1869), “O die

Frauen,” beginning.
Adagio
EHn.
marcato
Ob.
Example 2.43 (⫽P72). Berlioz, Symphonie fantastique (1830–32), iii, beginning.
provoke feelings of loneliness as much as feelings of peace and merriment, just

as horn calls may act as “symbols of memory—or, more exactly, of distance,
absence, and regret.”87 Such loneliness is palpable in the case of Berlioz’s “Scène
aux champs” from Symphonie fantastique, a long-distance shepherd duet that
ultimately (and tragically) devolves to a solo (ex. 2.43; see also P76 cited earlier).
And after all, cries do include farewells (P99–P101, cited earlier).88
The pentatonicism that surfaces periodically throughout Schubert’s
Winterreise offers an even more complex invocation of pastoral primitivism,
from the jaded singer’s love-struck innocence (P84, cited earlier) to his bitter
sarcasm, describing, as if through clenched teeth, the peaceful dreams of his
❧
beloved (ex. 2.44).89 (Other instances in Winterreise include P41 and P59, cited
earlier, and P192–P194.) Both the music and the poetry invoke pastoral love
only to expose it as a sad illusion: the journeyman emerges as a pitiable bump-
kin, his spells of optimism as pathetic delusions, and his innocence as tragic
naiveté. Mahler’s Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen (ex. 2.45) and P196–P198 partake
of this same brutal irony.
(See P199–P216 for more pastoral-primitive examples.)
Example 2.44 (⫽P191). Schubert, Winterreise (1828), “Gute Nacht,” mm. 71–75.
Al les! Lieb’ und Leid, und Welt, und
morendo
Traum!
Example 2.45 (⫽P195). Mahler, Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen (1883–96), end.
C. The Domestic Strain of Pentatonicism (II): Overt Sources
1. South Meets North: Scottish Pentatonicism
Although some have cautioned against overestimating the pentatonicism of tra-

ditional Scottish music,90 this trait is surely its most famous. As noted earlier,
Burney was the first to observe (with some amazement) the pentatonic com-
monalities of Scottish, Chinese, and ancient Greek music.91 Understandably,
British writers demonstrated slightly more familiarity than did their Continental
counterparts with this “beauty . . . that has so long pleased, though men scarce
know why.”92 Burney, Hawkins, and Busby all name the lack of semitones as a dis-
tinctive feature, and the term “Scotch-Scale” comprised an entry in Busby’s dic-
tionary: “A Scale differing from that of the other nations of Europe by its
omission of the fourth and seventh. . . .”93 Robert Burns even recounted a sort
of pentatonic party trick:
Mr. James Miller . . . was in company with our friend [Stephen] Clarke; and talking of
Scotch music, Mr. Miller expressed an ardent ambition to be able to compose a Scots
air. Mr. Clarke, partly by way of joke, told him to keep to the black keys of the harpsi-
chord, and preserve some kind of rhythm, and he would infallibly compose a Scots air.94
The theoretical reception of Scottish music on the Continent was somewhat less
settled. Perhaps because of its presumptive familiarity, Scottish music garnered
little of the theoretical inquiry brought to bear on more patently exotic tradi-
tions. Laborde, who spent over twenty pages on the history and theory of
Chinese music, neglected any specifics in his discussion of Scottish music.95
Although Burney’s connections were disseminated in Germany by G. W. Fink,96
Fétis had a different understanding, offering two scales supposedly common to
Scotland and Ireland: a Dorian hexachord (a–b–c–d–e–f) and a Lydian-
Mixolydian hybrid (c–d–e–f–g–a–b–c).97 In short, Scottish music engendered
little more interpretive consistency than did Asian music.
Nevertheless, Scottish music (unlike Asian music) could legitimately boast of
an audible presence in the musical life of Europe. Scotland’s nationalistic “bardic
revival” emerged as a flexing of cultural muscle against England around the time
of its losing its parliament in 1707.98 But it was England itself that first demon-
strated an insatiable interest in all things Scottish, a craze that would eventually
migrate to the Continent on a tide of Romanticism. To Londoners in the seven-
teenth century, Scottish music was essentially a popular music, well loved and
ubiquitous at the theater, concert hall, and dance hall. At home, too, they would
have encountered Scottish music in John Playford’s The English Dancing Master,
an enormously popular collection of traditional tunes for violin or recorder;
since its publication in 1651, fifteen subsequent editions contained an increas-
ing proportion of Scottish tunes among the rustic fare. Around the turn of the
eighteenth century began a long string of published collections devoted exclusively
❧
to Scottish tunes, favorite examples of which routinely made their way into bal-
lad operas such as John Gay’s 1728 The Beggar’s Opera or Allan Ramsay’s 1729 The
Gentle Shepherd, which represented a “reaction to the dominant Italian style of
urban classical music. . . .”99 Continental composers working in London did
their part to satisfy this Scottish fever: from Francesco Geminiani, whose 1749
ornamentation manual, A Treatise of Good Taste in the Art of Musick, took its musi-
cal material entirely from Scottish folk song; to Domenico Corri, whose eclectic
1795 anthology, A Select Collection of the Most Admired Songs . . . , contained anony-
mous folksongs of the British Isles standing side by side with famous opera arias;
to J. C. Bach, whose opus 13 keyboard concertos featured variation movements
on such popular songs as “The Yellow Hair’d Laddie” (ex. 2.46).
Later in the century the popular demand for Scottish music led even to the
“outsourcing” of commissioned accompaniments from abroad, such as the col-
lections published by George Thomson, who negotiated contributions from
Haydn, Beethoven, Pleyel, Hummel, and Kozeluch.100 Thomson provided the
tunes, for which his composers furnished accompaniments, often including
preludes and postludes. Although Thomson invited Beethoven to “improve” any
melody as he saw fit,101 it is impossible to judge whether or to what extent any of
these composers may have altered the given material, as Thomson’s written pro-
totypes do not survive. (Meanwhile, other printed sources are, predictably, as
6 6 5
4 4 3
Example 2.46. J. C. Bach, Keyboard Concerto, op. 13 #4 (1777), iii, end of

theme, mm. 25–28.
variable as the oral tradition they sought to reify.) We can say, however, that any
newly composed music in the settings remains firmly within the realm of com-
mon-practice voice leading, and occasional tendencies toward assimilation are
in evidence as well. Haydn’s piano postlude to “Does Haughty Gaul” (ex. 2.47),
while alluding to the tune’s vocal cadence in its rhythm and its use of thirds, con-
verts the theme’s 6–8 into a more conventional 7–2–1; the violin part of Haydn’s
“Willy’s Rare” (ex. 2.48) accompanies the vocal 6–8 cadence with a passing tone,
6–7–8; and Beethoven’s setting of the Irish song “The Pulse of an Irishman”
(ex. 2.49) ends not with the 6–8 of the theme’s cadence, but with an additional
Ere we per mit a fo reign foe on Bri tish ground to ral ly
rall. Allegro
ten.
Example 2.47. Haydn, setting of “Does Haughty Gaul” (1803), end.
O! gin e’er he mar ry’d o ny.
6 7 6 5 -
4 3 -
Example 2.48. Haydn, setting of “Willy’s Rare” (1792), end.

❧
cresc.
cresc.
8va
cresc.
Example 2.49. Beethoven, setting of “The Pulse of an Irishman” (1813), end.
diatonic turn on the tonic, to produce the requisite 7. Nevertheless, I have

found that these composers were generally more or less hospitable to Scottish
idiosyncrasies, including pentatonicism, even if the actual imitation of such idio-
syncrasies would be left to others.
By the turn of the nineteenth century, Scottishness in the European imagina-
tion had begun to epitomize many of the values of the emerging Romantic
movement—heroic endurance of oppression, wildness, and freedom—associa-
tions due in large part to the figure who enthralled artists for much of the
nineteenth century, the legendary Celtic bard Ossian. Ossian and his poetry had
been “revived” through the supposed collecting and translating work of the
learned Scottish patriot James MacPherson. It is a testament to both the literary
quality and the aesthetic timeliness of MacPherson’s 1760 Fragments of Ancient
Poetry and subsequent works that they took immediate hold on the Continent
through German, French, and Italian translations (Herder and Goethe them-
selves each had a hand in translation). Even greater testament, perhaps, is the
degree to which the poems and their stories endured a prolonged controversy
surrounding their authorship: the true authorship, in MacPherson himself, was
all but established by 1805.102 The question of “authenticity,” so dear to the
Romantic sensibility, was ultimately more a matter of spirit than of fact, a situa-
tion that left some Romantics on the wrong side of truth. Herder, for one, pro-
nounced that “Poetry of this kind could not possibly be composed in this
century,” judging from its “clarity” and “directness.”103
In the end, this historical hoax partly inspired Herder’s own influential his-
toricism, according to which each age “displays a new and remarkable aspect of
humanity,” as well as his general conclusions on the “songs [i.e., poetry] of
ancient peoples”:
Know then, that the more barbarous a people is, that is, the more alive, the more free,
the closer to the senses, the more lyrically dynamic its songs will be, if songs it has. The
more remote a people is from an artificial, scientific manner of thinking, speaking, and
writing, the less its songs are made for paper and print, the less its verses are written for
the dead letter.104
Herder’s professed embrace of culture in all its historical diversity, however,

stopped short of the present, and his implicit partiality for the latter of the two
extremes described in this quote is made clear in his sarcastic ultimatum, “Let
the remnants of the old, true folk poetry vanish entirely with the daily advance
of our so-called culture. . . .”105
Ossianism also represented a decided shift in European self-understanding,
for now European luminaries looked not southward to Greece as an object of fil-
ial reverence and a source for inspiration, but northward. As Sulzer wrote,
“Fingal was the better Achilles”—a comparison similar to those made between
Ossian and Homer.106 And not only the Germans, who proudly claimed com-
mon blood with the Celts,107 but the French as well partook of a surrogate
nationalism based upon reverence of the North.108 One of most successful
Ossianic operas, Jean-François Le Sueur’s Ossian, ou Les bardes (1804), was dedi-
cated to Napoleon, who “was fascinated with Celtic mythology: it provided for
the French state an alternate pseudohistorical tradition that had nothing to do
with the legitimate historical tradition that Napoleon and the Revolution had
overthrown.”109 This “pseudohistory” was disseminated as well through the
poetry of Robert Burns and the novels of Sir Walter Scott, which found great
favor among the Romantics on the Continent. One symptom of the increased
ideological significance of Scottish music is seen in composers’ treatment of
Scottish themes. The popular styles of domestic music and the lighter move-
ments from instrumental cycles (noted above) gave way in the nineteenth cen-
tury to large-scale instrumental and dramatic works like Berlioz’s concert
overtures Waverley and Rob Roy, or Boïeldieu’s La Dame blanche.
It is worth bearing in mind John Daverio’s distinction between the dark goth-
icism of Ossian—so-called “Nordic character”—and the more popular and
cheerful “Scottish style.”110 The dominance of Ossianism in European concep-
tions of Scotland and Scottishness explains the prevalence of melancholy minor-
mode themes such as the opening of Mendelssohn’s “Scottish” Symphony
(ex. 2.50). But beyond the misty shadows of ancient lore lay a merry pastoralism
as well, and Mendelssohn, who once called national song “notorious, out of tune
trash,”111 composed a very plausible pentatonic jig for the sprightly scherzo of
this same symphony (ex. 2.51). Thus the Scottish strain of nineteenth-century
pentatonicism represented a vestige of pre-Ossianic Scottishness, a “rude sweet-
ness”112 that contrasts with the Romantic overtones of its brooding cousin. We
find, therefore, depictions of innocent merriment and thanksgiving
(P218–P222), of pastoral subjects (P223–P229),113 of idyllic love (P230–P237),
and of dance (P238–P240).
English folksong, though less Romantically alluring than the Scottish variety,
is similarly pentatonic and was embraced by an emerging school of nineteenth-
❧
Andante con moto
Example 2.50. Mendelssohn, “Scottish” Symphony (1842), i, beginning.
sempre
Example 2.51 (⫽P217). Mendelssohn, “Scottish” Symphony (1842), iii, mm. 9–16.
century English composers, notably opera composer George Macfarren. In

Nicholas Temperley’s view, Macfarren’s stylistic progression from Italianate to
self-confidently English was typical of musical nationalism, particularly in a
country lacking a native art-music tradition (as was also the case in Russia).114
The (re)discovery of native folk music, and the national pride encompassed
therein, accounts for one further source of nineteenth-century pentatonicism. It
is the subject of the next, final section.
2. West Meets West (“High” Meets “Low”):

European Pentatonicism
While Ossianism quickly inspired the collecting—and sometimes, the concoct-

ing—of folk poetry on the Continent, such as Johann Gottfried Herder’s
1778–79 Stimmen der Völker and Clemens Brentano and Achim von Arnim’s
1805–8 Des Knaben Wunderhorn, the collecting of native folk-song lagged some-
what behind that of the British Isles.115 As late as 1825, A. F. Thibaut expressed
his admiration for the British in their efforts at preservation and called for their
emulation.116 Nevertheless, Western art-music has long felt the influence of
folk music, and the distinction is, after all, largely anachronistic, having been
articulated strongly only since the late eighteenth century. Folk influence has
been discerned in such canonic composers as Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, and
Brahms.117 Purely pentatonic folksong is “not especially typical” in Continental
Europe,118 but pentatonic and quasi-pentatonic features do occur, making their
way into art-music in the subtle manner discussed earlier, as well as through the
wholesale borrowing of folk melodies, which was prevalent in the context of late
nineteenth-century French nationalism (ex. 2.52).
The folk music of eastern Europe displays somewhat more pentatonicism
than that of France and Germany, but still in varying degrees. The connection
Solo
EHn.
espr.
avec sourdines
Vn. I
poco
avec sourdines
Vn. II
poco
avec sourdines
Va.
poco
avec sourdines
Vc.
poco
Cb.
Example 2.52 (⫽excerpt of P241). D’Indy, Symphony on a French Mountain Air

(1886), beginning (reduced score).
❧
8va
legato e semplice
Example 2.53 (⫽excerpt of P242). Chopin, Krakowiak (1828), beginning.
1. 2.
Example 2.54. Polish folk melody, from Oskar Kolberg, Pieśni ludu polskiego
(1857), #441.
between Czech folk music and the extensive pentatonicism of Dvo¤rák seems
clear enough, though “there can be little doubt that his interest in pentatonic
inflections was at its strongest in America.”119 Although the long-celebrated
influence of Polish music upon Chopin has been disputed,120 his Lydian fourths,
drone fifths, dance rhythms, and occasional pentatonicism can be said to delimit
the beginnings of exoticism cum nationalism. Best known in this regard are
Chopin’s mazurkas, but his early Krakowiak, op. 13 (ex. 2.53) equally celebrates
a Polish dance form that enjoyed widespread popularity in the nineteenth cen-
tury. The composer performed the work several times to great acclaim, and
while his letters of 1828 and 1829 make frequent reference to the piece, his only
description of the music concerns not the Krakowiak proper, but its slow intro-
duction: “The introduction is original; more so than I myself even in a beige
suit.”121 He refers, no doubt to the introduction’s impressive confluence of five
exotic markers: a pentatonic melody set above a drone accompaniment, in a
high register and in parallel octaves, and proceeding in a steady, almost
“puerile” eighth-note rhythm. We cannot know what might have served as
Chopin’s inspiration—the explicitly Polish content of the piece is reserved for
the ensuing duple-meter dance—but rhythmic similarities at least may be shown
between this introduction and folk waltzes transcribed by Chopin’s contempo-
rary Oskar Kolberg (ex. 2.54). While pentatonicism is said to be “unknown” in
the Carpathian region of Poland (which includes Kraków), it is found in the
Kurpie region of Chopin’s birthplace.122 The pentatonicism in Chopin’s
mazurkas could potentially arise from folk influence, but, as has been discussed
earlier in this chapter (§B2, “Music of Meager Means”) it may also be attributed
to a fundamental attitude of composerly simplicity.
Pentatonic inflections are not uncommon in nineteenth-century Russian
music and derive more clearly from folkloristic motivations.123 Ironically, it was
the imported Western ideology of nationalism, with its Herderian overtones,
that stimulated the emergence of a distinctively Russian school of composition,
for which traditional music provided an esteemed source of material (ex. 2.55;
see also P244–P266).124 During the nineteenth century, the relationship
between Russian and Western music went from one of dependence (Russia
upon the West) to one of symbiosis. Berlioz admired Glinka’s Russian songs, cit-
ing “the charming turn of their melodies, which were completely different from
anything I had ever heard before.”125 Liszt, who like Berlioz was accorded great
pomp in Russia (more so than were his Russian contemporaries) in turn demon-
strated a knowledge of and reverence for the works of Glinka, Borodin,
Balakirev, Moussorgsky, and Rimsky-Korsakov.
As has been described by Jim Samson, it was these Russians’ chromatic prac-
tice that was their chief contribution to the West.126 The rise of pentatonicism
appears to have been more or less simultaneous in the two worlds. Nevertheless,
certain idiosyncratic uses of pentatonicism found in Russian composition may
have had some impact on the Impressionists. For instance, example 2.56 shows
the possibilities of pentatonic mutation (see also P263, P264); example 2.57
shows the juxtaposition of two favorite devices of the Impressionists, pentatoni-
cism and the dominant ninth chord; example 2.58 shows how mutating penta-
tonicism can serve the Russian proclivity for, as Abraham puts it, musical
“brooding” or “mulling over.”127 Rimsky-Korsakov was the first composer I know
to have incorporated the pentatonic harp glissando (see chapter 4) into orches-
tral music.
D. Crosscurrents: The Pastoral-Exotic Pentatonic in Practice
Domestic and imported pentatonicism, though arising from distinct historical

sources, would have inevitably interacted in the minds of composers and listen-
ers. This interaction is easily described and in fact resonates with existing the-
ories of exoticism. Two moments from Saint-Saëns’s Samson et Dalila—the brief
pentatonic postlude to the Philistines’ chorus to the spring (ex. 2.59), con-
trasted with the chromatically ribald dance later in the same scene (ex. 2.60)—
will demonstrate how the musical duality of pentatonicism versus chromaticism
correlates with the exoticist duality identified by Ralph P. Locke as “sentimental-
pastoral” versus “diabolical and threatening.”128 The chorus is “uncivilized” in a
“good” way, which is to say that Europeans approve of, and in fact partake in,
paeans to the spring; but in the case of the seductive dance, the exoticism of the
Philistines is base and menacing, “uncivilized” in a “bad” way. Pentatonicism
Allegro moderato e maestoso
S.
To the sun a bove, glo ry, glo ry, Glo ry, vic to ry
A.
T.
B.
S.
to no ble Prince I gor, glo ry, glo ry. To Rus sia, glo ry and fame!
A.
T.
B.
Example 2.55 (⫽P243). Borodin, Prince Igor (1869–87), I/1, choral entrance, m.
29.
I Solo
Hn.
in F
Vn.
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
I
Hn.
in F
Vn.
Va.
div.
Vc.
Cb.
Example 2.56 (⫽P262). Rimsky-Korsakov, Sinfonietta on Russian Themes (1884), reh. D.

❧
Moderato assai
T.
Choir
Take your Gus li and strum so sweet ly
B.
Take your Gus li and strum so sweet ly
Example 2.57 (⫽P265). Rimsky-Korsakov, Sadko (1896), Ballad of the People of

Vseslavitch, reh. 27.
Allegro giusto, nel modo russico; senza allegrezza, ma poco sostenuto
Example 2.58 (⫽P266). Mussorgsky, Pictures at an Exhibition (1874), “Promenade,”

beginning.
thus emerges as the innocent, pastoral half of the exotic duality. The same
dichotomy may be observed in Bizet’s Djamileh, with a hedonistic Almée dance
(ex. 2.61) representing the decadent, “Oriental” tendencies of Haroun on the
one hand, and a final duet representing his nobility and ultimate redemption
through the higher ideal of true love on the other (ex. 2.62). The precise meaning
of pentatonicism in these examples encompasses, as it were, a higher iteration
of exoticism: a distancing both from “our” world and from “their” world, a sort
of exotic common-ground—“loin du bruit, loin du monde,” in the words of
Lalla-Roukh (P21, cited earlier). Pastoral exoticism may explain as well the
almost Scottish sound of certain cheerful moments in Brahms’s otherwise exoti-
cist Zigeunerlieder (P267, P268).
tou jours!
tou jours!
Example 2.59 (⫽P24). Saint-Saëns, Samson et Dalila (1859–77), I/6, Philistine

chorus to the spring, end.
Allegretto
sempre pianissimo
Example 2.60. Saint-Saëns, Samson et Dalila (1859–77), I/6, “Dance of the

Priestesses of Dagon,” beginning.
Andante quasi andante
Example 2.61. Bizet, Djamileh (1871), #7, “L’Almée,” beginning.
Moderato
espressivo
mien! Ta
lè vre par fu mé e, Ta
Example 2.62 (⫽P23). Bizet, Djamileh (1871), #10, Duet, m. 255.

By the same token, the japonaiserie and chinoiserie in the decades surrounding
the turn of the twentieth century, with their childlike heroines named
“Butterfly” and “Iris,” often employed an aesthetic congruent with the pastoral.
We are not surprised, for instance, to find the pentatonic theme in Saint-Saëns’s
La Princesse jaune marked Allegro giocoso (P8, cited earlier); nor to find the most
sustained pentatonicism of Puccini’s Turandot in the children’s hymn to the
moon (P39, cited earlier); nor to observe, in Ravel’s L’Enfant et les sortilèges, how
easily the child’s pentatonicism blends into that of the Chinese teacup (P37 and
P38, cited earlier). In short, nineteenth-century exoticism offers more than the
dramatic seriousness that Dahlhaus has described as “the dignity of tragedy.”129
Conversely, pastoral pentatonicism’s domestic origins should not obscure the
fact of its own potential exoticism, which is to say, its opposition to the mundane
realities of urban European life. Unlike the proto-pentatonic birds of Vivaldi or
Beethoven, with their predictable and stylized coos, the exotically pentatonic
birdsong of Wagner’s Siegfried (P139, cited earlier) conveys more than the pic-
turesque: “Du holdes Vöglein,” Siegfried declares upon hearing the magical crea-
ture, “dich hört ich noch nie.” Such transcendence can also result when the
childish fantasy-world of lullaby is equated with the patently unreal experience of
dreaming: in fact, the ironic pentatonicism of Schubert’s Winterreise mentioned
above coincides almost entirely with references to dreams. In each case, penta-
tonicism serves as a mechanism not for literal transport, but for something more
fundamental, the blissful suspension of reality. The conceptual extreme of this
principle constitutes the subject of the next chapter, the religious pentatonic, in
which the implicit archaism of the pastoral-exotic pentatonic comes to the fore.
In summary, the musical, historical, and semantic aspects of pentatonicism are
diverse, and one may identify a larger aesthetic category that encompasses
notions of musical “simplicity,” within which pentatonicism may be thought to
dwell along with other musical styles and features. In the end, the dual recogni-
tion of pentatonicism’s specific connotations—both its domesticated foreign-
ness (the primitive innocence that acts as a foil to exotic threat) and also its
more general connotations of an exoticized European bourgeois experience—
represents a more useful notion of both exoticism and of pentatonicism than is
normally acknowledged in nineteenth-century musical semantics.
Chapter Three
The Religious Pentatonic

The final movement of Fauré’s Requiem, the “In paradisum,” is an extraordi-
nary piece, befitting its subject. It is both a prayer for redemption and at the
same time a mystical glimpse of that redemption, a gracious answer to the
prayers of the other six movements. Whereas the preceding “Libera me” ended
in utter bleakness—with its stern D minor, its painful diminished-seventh
cadence, and its oppressive march-rhythm—the present movement leaves no
doubt as to where the soul now rests. (The movement is reproduced in its
entirety as P338.)
The movement opens with a curious bass-line ostinato, the pentatonic incipit
6–5–8–6–5 presented in the organ against delicate string chords; and when the
sopranos enter, their sweet hymn turns out to be pentatonic as well (ex. 3.1).
The unison vocal texture recalls that of liturgical chant, while the gender and
register further suggest the chorus angelorum mentioned later in the text.
Throughout the exposition of the sopranos’ theme, even as the harmony
changes, the ostinato remains fixed, its trancelike repetition only amplifying the
otherworldly flavor of its pentatonic contour. Although more fully diatonic (and
even chromatic) passages follow, these represent departures from the tranquil-
lity of a prevailing pentatonicism.
The subtlety of Fauré’s pentatonic sensibility can be seen at the first appear-
ance of melodic chromaticism in measure 17: the d acts as a chromatic upper
neighbor to the tonic d while the bass counters with a pentatonic lower neighbor
(ex. 3.2). This disruption is then immediately dispelled with a reversion to pen-
tatonic melody as the full choir enters to begin a prolonged cadential approach.
The ensuing dominant-seventh cadence in measure 29 leaves the sopranos hov-
ering on 5, behavior that accords well with the prevailing aesthetic: 5 is both
unstable and yet eminently consonant, smugly exempt from melodic protocol.
The second half of the movement begins with a return of the pentatonic osti-
nato and an abridged version of the angelic theme. Once again a chromatic dis-
ruption (m. 36) is elegantly mitigated by a pentatonic inflection: this time a
pentatonic figure in the soprano (6–5–3) accompanies a half-step lower neigh-
bor in the bass (7–8) (ex. 3.3). At the cadence in measure 49, the sopranos again
linger on 5, softening the impact of the close.
The music of the coda becomes even more relaxed, more ethereal, with the
repetition of the final line “aeternam habeas requiem” (“may they have eternal
Andante moderato dolce
S.
In pa ra
C.
T.
B.
sim.
dolce
S.
di sum
S.
de du cant An ge li:
Example 3.1 (⫽excerpt of P338). Fauré, Requiem (1877), “In paradisum,” mm.
1–15. (© 1977 by C. F. Peters Corporation. Used by permission.)
10 sempre
S.
in tu o ad ven tu su
13
S.
sci pi ant te Mar ty res,
Example 3.1. (continued)
17 sempre dolce
S.
et per du cant te in ci vi ta tem
20
S.
san ctam
Example 3.2. Fauré, Requiem, “In paradisum,” mm. 17–20. (with reduction)
(© 1977 by C. F. Peters Corporation. Used by permission.)
102 ❧ the religious pentatonic
36
S.
et cum La za ro quon dam
39
S.
pau pe re,
Example 3.3. Fauré, Requiem, “In paradisum,” mm. 36–40. (with reduction)
(© 1977 by C. F. Peters Corporation. Used by permission.)
rest”) over a hypnotic alternation between the two triads of the pentatonic scale,
I and vi (ex. 3.4). The harmonies proceed gently, all the while supporting the
pentatonic ostinato. Notice also the behavior of 6, which in measures 52–53
progresses simultaneously to each of 5, 8, and 3—in the soprano, a pentatonic
échappée, 5–6–3. The prayer ends, ppp, with 3 in the soprano, underscoring the
central rhetorical point of the piece: that rest is not final, but is eternal.
In this analysis I have focused on Fauré’s peculiar interpretation of tonal pitch
space; it is this aspect, I believe, that gives the piece much of its serene, arresting
character. The movement offers an unusually sustained example of a semantic
category that I call the “religious pentatonic.” Just as pentatonicism may signify
the distant realms of the pastoral and the exotic, so too may it signify that fur-
thermost realm: the spiritual. The religious pentatonic afforded nineteenth-
century composers the means for evoking a mystical ambiance, but one distinct
from the somber hues (and the “wrong notes”) of the medieval modes. Rather,
it was—importantly and uniquely—a major-mode depiction of spirituality, and
one that may be further distinguished from the “innocent” or “noble” simplicity
that “dominated the ‘middle style’ of church music for the entire nineteenth
century,” as, for instance in example 3.5.1
51
S.
ae ter nam
C.
ae ter nam
T.
ae ter nam
B.
ae ter nam
54
S.
ha be as
C.
ha be as
T.
ha be as
B.
ha be as
Example 3.4. Fauré, Requiem, “In paradisum,” mm. 51–end. (© 1977 by

C. F. Peters Corporation. Used by permission.)
57
S.
re qui em.
C.
re qui em.
T.
re qui em.
B.
re qui em.
Bel l’al ba fo rie ra d’un so le no
vel lo, la no stra pre ghie ra co min cia per te. Del
calando
pa dre, del du ce fia il vi ver più bel lo, fia
spar so di lu ce chi lie ti ne fe’
Example 3.5. Donizetti, La favorite (1840), opening chorus.

❧
the religious pentatonic 105
The simplest explanation of the religious pentatonic is suggested by the “In

paradisum” theme itself: though not an actual quotation from plainchant, this
modest melody is clearly evocative of the style. A careful assessment of the
nature of plainchant and its musical and conceptual resonances is therefore in
order, and this will require a substantial digression. In the following sections I
will discuss various historical and ideological factors through which to under-
stand the phenomenon of the religious pentatonic, in order to explain its emer-
gence and to analyze the mechanics of its distinctive signification. We will return
to further examples at the end of the chapter.
A. The Nineteenth-Century Restoration of Sacred Music
1. The Nineteenth-Century Religious Revival
The place of religion in nineteenth-century life demonstrates many of the para-

doxes and contradictions typical of that century, reminding us that Romanticism
was at once an extension of, and also a reaction against, the Enlightenment.
Enlightenment thinkers stressed personal freedom and responsibility, supplant-
ing the external authority of institutions with the light of inner reason. As Kant
proclaimed, “Sapere aude! [‘Dare to know’]—that is the motto of enlighten-
ment.”2 This attitude, however, left religion in a precarious state, and insofar as
intellectuals “dared to know” Christian truths, doctrinal compromises often
resulted—whether Newton’s rejection of the “irrational” Trinity, or Lessing’s
impeachment of biblical authority. Religion, both in thought and practice, con-
sequently gravitated toward humanism.3 Meanwhile, knowledge, in the form of
scientific and industrial progress devoid of cosmic grounding, occasioned
humanity’s alienation from the natural world: the sterility of science and the
mundane practicality of technology preempted any deeper advancement in the
realm of existential knowledge.
For the Romantics, on the other hand, the thirst for individualism and under-
standing, while inherited from the Enlightenment, found fulfillment in emo-
tional subjectivity and the recognition of the supernatural within the natural.
Christian mysteries, so problematic for Men of Reason, “hold no enigmas for
men who experience the radiance of God both in nature and in a woman’s
smile.”4 This Romantic antirationalist sensibility went hand in hand with a gen-
eral religious revival associated with such pietistic values as subjectivity, esoteri-
cism, rebirth, and femininity.5
Instilled with gothicism, moreover, Romantic Christianity assumed perhaps its
most classic expression in a Roman Catholic revival, one that boasted Friedrich
Schlegel among its many famous converts. Ever since Johann Gottfried Herder had
critiqued the received notion of a “Dark Ages,” the Romantic historical imagina-
tion thrived, and medieval Europe became just as precious an ideal as Classical
Greece had been to the Humanists. Novalis, in his 1799 Christenheit oder Europa,
prophesied a renewed, glorious Europe, united and Catholic once again in the
spirit of the Middle Ages, a hope shared by others, especially in post-Napoleonic
France.6 But more than its alleged universality, the Catholic Church’s antimodern
associations generated great interest from both within and without. These archaiz-
ing and irrationalist tendencies were manifest in neo-Gothic church architecture
and in the liturgy, through a renewed focus on mystery and sacrament.7 “Romantic
aestheticians valued religious liturgies in part because they seemed playful, ingen-
uous, childlike, natural, primitive, or ‘eastern.’ ”8 Sacred music, no less than other
aspects of religious culture, was influenced by this same philosophical trend.
2. Sacred Music in the Eighteenth Century: The Need for Reform
These developments intersected with concerns about the proper character of

music in church. At the end of the eighteenth century, the musical categories
formulated by Marco Scacchi a century and a half earlier—church, chamber,
and theater—though still theoretically operative, had in practice become weak-
ened by the frequent interpenetration of the three domains, most notoriously
through the infiltration of opera styles into church. In the course of the eigh-
teenth century, grievances frequently arose concerning the unsuitability of sec-
ular styles in sacred compositions.
With respect to composition, Catholic Church music up until several years ago still had
much of its own special character. But nowadays operatic music also forces its way into
churches everywhere, and, what is worse, [it is] the insipid Italian opera music of the
new style. In Vienna, too, I found it all too conspicuous. During many a Credo or
Benedictus I knew not whether I was hearing music from an Italian opera buffa.9
Haydn and Mozart shouldered similar objections, which however seemed to

make little impression on either them or the majority of their audiences. Despite
protestations by popes and emperors, many liberties were taken: witness the XII
Ariae seu Offertoria, a 1795 collection of Dittersdorf operetta tunes furnished with
liturgical Latin texts by an anonymous “Lover of Church Music”;10 or Alessandro
Capuana’s Mass based on opera music of Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti, and Mozart
(its Credo opens with the tune of “La ci darem la mano”). “Moreover,” reported
a Viennese critic after a thoroughly operatic Mass one Sunday, “an undertone of
Bravo, Schön, and che viva was heard from most of the listeners.”11
Even in the Church’s own music, problems arose—quite naturally, as chant,
being a liturgical and hence explicitly functional music, had always been a some-
what unstable repertory. In the two centuries following the consolidating efforts
at the Council of Trent (1545–63), whatever musical unanimity Catholic liturgy
may have enjoyed weakened considerably. Musical variants of orthodox chant,
newly composed chant (the French plainchant musical and Italian canto fratto), and
the practice of improvisation (chant sur le livre), all irritated civic and ecclesiastical
authorities. In Vienna modern taste could be blamed for the regular disregard
❧
of both liturgy and tradition: “Chants were omitted, and other music substituted
for the day’s Proper or played during liturgically required silences.”12
The situation in France in the seventeenth through the nineteenth centuries
was particularly striking. Neo-Gallicanism, a nationalistic anti-Papal movement
born in the sixteenth century, brought efforts at liturgical reform, essentially
advocating a specifically French liturgy. Louis XIV’s tensions with Rome contin-
ued the trend, which were reversed only after the Revolution. The 1801 con-
cordat between Napoleon and Pope Pius VIII was a first step toward
reconciliation and reunification. But in those prior two centuries, a certain free-
wheeling spirit characterized the practice of liturgical chant, and when Louis
XVIII sanctioned the return of Paris to the Roman liturgy in 1814, he instituted
a restoration that would be accomplished only gradually. Joseph d’Ortigue in
1853 reflected on that prior decadent age and its tenacious legacy:
Let us speak now of the corrections of the Graduals and Antiphoners, which have so
often been revised from the seventeenth century to our time, and thanks to which
nearly everywhere in France, our plainchant was so completely disfigured and muti-
lated that it happens quite often that someone used to the chants of such-and-such dio-
cese will no longer recognize them if he happens to go to a neighboring diocese.13
It was not until the late eighteenth and the nineteenth centuries that conserva-
tive outrage such as this began to influence the views of composers and musi-
cians. The reform, or (in the contemporary mind) the restoration, of sacred
music then became a priority, one driven by the larger gothic revival.
3. The Nineteenth Century: A Medieval “Renaissance”
Early indications of the shift to a more Romantic sacred music were the calls by
influential thinkers around the turn of the nineteenth century advocating the
older a cappella styles. Palestrina had no shortage of Romantic devotees—Ernst,
from Ludwig Tieck’s 1812 Phantasus, was among the first to eulogize this music
that “evokes in our soul the image of eternity.”14 Ernst’s aesthetic epiphany upon
hearing the Papal choir typified Romantic attitudes toward the “transcendent”
music of the past. E. T. A. Hoffmann concurred:
With Palestrina began what is indisputably the most glorious period in church music
(and hence in music in general); in ever-increasing plentitude it maintained its pious
dignity and strength for almost two hundred years, although it cannot be denied that
even in the first century after Palestrina that lofty simplicity and dignity sank into a sort
of elegance for which composers strove.15
Hoffmann lamented such lost innocence even in the sacred works of his own
heroes, Mozart and Haydn, whom he accused of falling victim to “the contagion
of mundane, ostentatious levity.”16 In the realm of religious music, even these
giants were no match for Palestrina.
As infatuated as many became with the Italian polyphonic masters, however,

an equally fervent interest in medieval music also emerged, which gained
increased prominence in the course of the nineteenth century. In most circles
the project of chant restoration commanded the greatest attention. Paris was an
important center of activity, home to one of the earliest chant restorers,
Alexandre-Étienne Choron (1771–1834). “[The French] have no writings on
the subject,” complained Choron, “which is not surprising, as the French chapel-
masters understand so little of the plain-chant, that I have seen the most expe-
rienced of them mistake the tone of the chant.”17 To correct this problem,
Choron published widely on the subject and founded in 1816–17 both the
Institution de Musique Classique et Religieuse, and the École Royale de Chant
et de Déclamation, the ancestor of the famous and influential École
Niedermeyer. Choron’s protégé Louis Niedermeyer deepened the emphasis on
chant, and the latter’s collaborator Joseph d’Ortigue completed the reversal of
Enlightenment values, actually favoring the Middle Ages over what he called the
“pagan Renaissance.”18
In Germany, the medieval revival found its most influential voice in Franz
Xavier Witt’s Allgemeiner Cäcilienverein. Founded in 1868, the organization
actually represented a late flowering of the aesthetics contained in A. F.
Thibaut’s 1825 Ueber die Reinheit in der Tonkunst. Thibaut, a Lutheran,
demonstrates the ecumenical nature of neo-Gothicism, calling for the adoption,
among Protestants, of “Ambrosian and Gregorian tunes, those . . . truly sublime
and heavenly songs and intonations which, originated by genius and improved
by art in the youngest and grandest days of the Church, impress the soul more
deeply than many of our modern compositions which are specially designed for
effect.”19 Perhaps the most enduring product of the nineteenth-century chant
revival was the Solesmes project, which issued the Liber Usualis in 1894, crown-
ing the century’s passion for authenticity and the archaic.
B. The Pentatonicism of Older Sacred Styles
The nineteenth-century chant revival compels us to examine the melodic style

of liturgical chant. To begin with, the calling third (familiar from chapter 2) is
a veritable staple of liturgical intonation, as in the Mass tone for the Gospel
(ex. 3.6).20 Elsewhere the minor third is sometimes filled in, though more often
in descent than in ascent. The rising pentatonic cell M2–m3 is so pervasive as to
have invited a designation, the “Gregorian incipit.”21 It forms the intonation for
the second and third psalm tones and also begins the “prototype melody” that
Michel Huglo has identified as “one of the commonest . . . of the antiphoner”
(ex. 3.7).22
More or less pentatonic chants may be readily found, as in example 3.8: this
modest Introit features a stepwise ascent from f to the tenor a, followed by a pen-
tatonic turn a–c–a–g–a for the intermediate closes, and a single cadential leap
❧
V. Dó mi nus vo bís cum. R. Et cum spí ri tu tú o. Se quén ti a sánc ti
Punctum
´ ´
E van gé li i se cún dum Mat thaé um. R. Gló ri a tí bi Dó mi ne.
´
In íl lo tém po re: Dí xit Jé sus dis cí pu lis sú is: Vos és tis sal tér rae.
Quod si sal e va nú e rit, in quo sa li é tur? Ad ní hi lum
´
vá let ul tra, ni si ut mit tá tur fo ras, et con cul cé tur ab ho mí ni bus. . .
In fine: Qui au tem fé ce rit et do cú e rit,
´ ´
hic má gnus vo cá bi tur in ré gno cae ló rum.
Example 3.6. Gospel tone (LU, 114).
( )
Example 3.7. Psalmodic “prototype melody.”
from f to the final d. Although one rarely encounters such pure pentatonicism
in chant, a certain “pentatonic residue,” in the words of Chailley, is common
enough.23 The Agnus in example 3.9 features a typical mode-5 framework,
with leaps from d to f filled in only upon descent; these passing e’s are the sole
Gló ri a Pá tri, et Fí li o, et Spi rí tu i
Sán cto. *Sic ut é rat in prin cí pi o, et nunc, et
sem per, et in saé cu la sae cu ló rum. A men.
vel E u o u a e. vel E u o u a e.
Example 3.8. Gloria Patri Introit, 1st mode (LU, 12).
interpolations into an otherwise pentatonic chant. Moreover, the skips d–f and
a–c can occur in modes other than D and F: the mode-8 Agnus in example 3.10
restricts itself to the Dorian pentatonic scale until near the end, when b supplies
a modal confirmation of the final, g. Even in the longest chants, which tend to
make greater use of all seven notes of the mode, an underlying pentatonic core
is often evident: in example 3.11, the relatively weak role played by e and b, and
the prominence of the third d–f suggest a structure that Egeland Hansen has
dubbed “pien-pentatonic.”24 (See table 3.1 and figure 3.1.)
Before we conclude this section, a brief mention of older sacred polyphony is
warranted, given the nineteenth century’s high regard for the Renaissance
masters. Palestrina’s music, notwithstanding its basically triadic, diatonic, and
tonal orientation, still exhibits something of an archaic melodic sensibility in the
individual lines. (As Choron himself noted, “he points in a more distinct man-
ner to the principles of the modern tones, without discarding those of the
ancients.”25) Example 3.12 illustrates that under the influence of medieval
modality, some trace of a “pentatonic residue” endured well into the high
Renaissance.26
***
We tend to think of the older sacred styles (and their subsequent imitations) as
“modal,” by which is usually meant a reliance on ostensibly obsolete diatonic
modes—the use of “Dorian” sixths, “Phrygian” seconds, “Lydian” fourths, etc.
The present discussion, however, has demonstrated that medieval melody is dis-
tinguished from common-practice melody not only through its use of unusual
A gnus Dé i, * qui tól lis pec cá ta mún di:
mi se ré re nó bis. A gnus Dé i, * qui tól lis
pec cá ta mún di: mi se ré re nó bis. A gnus Dé
i, * qui tól lis pec cá ta mún di: dó na nó bis pá cem.
Example 3.9. Agnus Dei, In Dominicis Adventus et Quadragesimae (LU, 66–67).
A gnus Dé i, * qui tól lis pec cá
ta mún di: mi se ré re nó bis. A gnus
Dé i, * qui tól lis pec cá ta mún di: mi se
ré re nó bis. A gnus Dé i, * qui tól
lis pec cá ta mún di: dó na nó bis pá cem.
Example 3.10. Agnus Dei, In Festis Duplicibus 4 (LU, 38–39).

Gló ri a in ex cél sis Dé o. Et in tér
ra pax ho mí ni bus bó nae vo lun tá tis. Lau dá
mus te. Be ne dí ci mus te. A do rá mus te.
Glo ri fi cá mus te. Grá ti as á gi mus tí bi
pro pter má gnam gló ri am tú am. Dó mi ne Dé us, Rex
cae lé stis, Dé us Pá ter om ní pot ens. Dó mi ne Fí
li u ni gé ni te Jé su Chrí ste. Dó mi ne Dé us,
A gnus Dé i, Fí li us Pá tris. Qui tól lis pec
cá ta mún di, mi se ré re nó bis. Qui tól lis pec cá ta
mún di, sú sci pe de pre ca ti ó nem nó stram. Qui sé
des ad déx te ram Pá tris, mi se ré re nó bis. Quó ni
am tu só lus sán ctus. Tu só lus Dó mi nus. Tu só lus
Al tís si mus, Jé su Chrí ste. Cum Sán cto Spí
ri tu, in gló ri a Dé i Pá tris. A men.
Example 3.11. Gloria, In Festis Duplicibus 4 (LU, 36–37).

❧
Table 3.1. Some pentatonic statistics of example 3.11, Gloria (LU, 36–37).
Parenthetical data include ornaments (a) and internal phrase markings
(b). The data on motion between f and d (c) include all such leaps within a
single phrase.
(a) incidence (b) phrase endings (c) “f–d motion”
f 80 (82) f 17 (8) f–d or d–f 7
g 80 (83) d 7 (6)
a 65 (67) a 4 (3)
d 26 d–c–f, f–g–d, d–g–f 7
e 11 c 1
c 10
b 2 g, e, b 0 f–e–d or d–e–f 5
Figure 3.1. The statistics of table 3.1 interpreted: A heptatonic mode-6 chant
reveals a pentatonic core. (In these analyses, the structural weight of a given note
is indicated through quasi-Schenkerian notation, by analogy with note-length.)
scales, but in its distinctly unusual treatment of those scales—namely, an obser-

vance of pentatonic “gaps” within the diatonic modes. In a very general way, we
may describe a large portion of chant as pentatonic.27
This observation revives a motivating concept from chapter 1, the distinction
between scale and mode; this sense of “modality” emerged in European music the-
ory only during the twentieth century.28 Nevertheless, Choron himself was well
aware of the distinction, as is demonstrated by his discussion of the Ionian mode.
“Here the scale of sounds is indeed our modern scale of C major, but the tournure
of the melody is quite different, one can be assured by studying fig. 11 and 12” (ex.
3.13).29 Choron unfortunately discussed the matter no further, but it is worth
pointing out the use of the Gregorian incipit in his “fig. 12,” a decidedly medieval
Si i gno ras te, o pul chra in ter mu li e res,
“Si ignoras te” (Cantus, opening)
flo res ap pa ru e runt in ter ra no stra,

“Surge propera” (Quintus, 29–33)
in ter ra no stra, tem pus pu ta ti o nis

“Surge propera” (Tenor, 36–9)
de de runt od o rem su um.

“Surge propera” (Cantus, end)
per vi cos et pla te as,

“Surgam et circuibo” (Tenor, 21–4)
a mi ca me a, su a vis et de co ra,
“Pulchra es, amica mea” (Altus, 12–16)
et ger mi nas sent ma la pu ni ca,

“Descendi in hortum” (Bassus, 56–9)
et ap pre hen dam fru ctus e ius;

“Quam pulcra es” (Cantus, 47–50)
Example 3.12. Examples of “pentatonic residue” in Palestrina motets.

To ta pul chra es, a mi ca me
To ta pul chra es, a

“Tota pulchra es” (opening)
sic ut tur tu ris,
ae sic ut tur tu ris, sic ut tur tu ris, col lum
ae sic ut tur tu ris, sic ut tur tu ris, col
sic ut tur tu ris, sic ut tur tu ris, col lum
sic ut tur tu ris, col lum

“Pulchrae sunt genae tuae” (12–16)
fig. 11.
fig. 12.
Example 3.13. Choron’s “Ionian” specimens. From Choron and La Fage, Nouveau
Manuel complet de musique vocale et instrumentale, 2:177, figs. 11 and 12.
“turn” indeed. As will be shown in the next section, nineteenth-century theories

of pre-tonality progressed beyond even Choron’s capable intuition, elucidating in
their own terms the unique nature of plainchant modality.
C. The Theory and Rhetoric of the Chant Revival
Evidence of Gregorian pentatonicism is clearly central to our topic, but the issue
deepens considerably when we take account of the discourse surrounding chant
in the nineteenth century. For while historians, journalists, and conductors were
making the case for a revival of the old sacred styles, some theorists for their part
introduced a technical language to the polemic. If the liturgical abuses of the
eighteenth century did not immediately wane in the nineteenth, at least the
later critics, armed with tonal theory, source-criticism, and historiography, could
wage more boldly the war against musical sacrilege. In the nineteenth century,
a new philosophy as well as a new aesthetic informed thought about
liturgical chant. Let us then explore the theory and rhetoric of the chant revival,
in the hope of uncovering contemporary attitudes toward the musical style of
plainchant.
1. “Modern” versus “Ancient” Tonality
“It is nearly impossible to explain in a satisfying manner the modality of plain-

chant.”30 This rhetorical overstatement, from Alexandre Choron and Adrien de
La Fage’s 1836 Nouveau manuel complet de musique vocale et instrumentale, reveals a
characteristic frustration (even as it otherwise contradicts the writings of each
author). To be sure, modal theory had continued to be transmitted by theorists
such as Johann Joseph Fux and Daniel Gottlieb Türk, and by historians such as
Johann Gottfried Walther and Jean-Jacques Rousseau.31 But according to some
Romantic chant scholars, the modal system, which represented music in its
purest state and which was uniquely suited to its intended purpose—the sincere
and humble praise of God—had become thoroughly alien, a relic from a
utopian past. “Religious music consists first of all of plainchant . . . deriving
from a musical system of ancient peoples, differing essentially from modern
music, today disfigured by detestable performance, and scorned because its
beauties are no longer understood.”32
The dichotomy of these two systems—ancient and modern—and the con-
demnation of the latter, became a rallying cry in the Gothic revival. E. T. A.
Hoffmann and A. F. Thibaut had sounded the call, with their antitheses of “old
and new church music,” and the “old church modes” versus the “modern
scales.” These polarities would become even more sharply drawn, as well as more
value-laden. Joseph d’Ortigue observed a host of terms—including “secular” or
“modern” tonality—for what he considered the antithesis of “ancient” tonality.
❧
E. de Coussemaker, in his history of medieval music, equated the tonal style of

modern music with that of medieval secular music (“musique vulgaire”), both of
which he placed in opposition to plainchant.33 Finally, for F. Danjou the issue
was quite simply, plain-chant versus musique, a stark opposition echoed by many
of his contemporaries.34
Furthermore, in Danjou’s view, only the ancient tonality offered a suitable
environment for sacred music, while modern tonality was best confined to “dra-
matic” works. “Must we sing the praises of God in the same tone we use for
human passions? . . . Respectable clergymen and prelates have sided with
worldly music against Catholic music.”35 P. Couturier branded modern music
“pagan,” because “it immorally violates the natural law of harmony by admitting
dissonance equally with consonance.”36 Finally, La Fage chided, “It is inexcus-
able to alter a plainchant to the point of destroying entirely its modal character
and to cause it to change, with no further ceremony, into the condition of mod-
ern melody.”37
2. Chromaticism, the Leading Tone, and the Tritone
What more can be said concerning the details of these two supposedly opposed
tonal systems? Notwithstanding Choron and La Fage’s cautious statement
above, they and many others did in fact devote a good deal of effort to articu-
lating precisely those features that distinguised ancient tonality from modern
tonality. In his 1853 Introduction a l’étude comparée des tonalités du chant grégorien et
de la musique moderne, D’Ortigue, perhaps the most outspoken and
virulent opponent of modernism in church music, summed up much of what
was on the mind of the nineteenth-century reformers. D’Ortigue’s explicit dis-
tinction between the tonalities of ancient and modern music amounted to the
following:
The first is founded on the principle that the intervals of the scale, numbering eight,
diatonic and natural, have no necessary relation to one another, nor any affinity or
attraction between them. Hence it happens that each degree may be the final of the
succession, potentially carrying the idea of rest and of a sense of completion. Such is
the construction of the systems of religious music and particularly of Gregorian
chant. . . .
The second is constructed such that the degrees, the same as those of plainchant
tonality, can each give rise to two new intervals, the one by the property of the sharp,
the other by the property of the flat ; which brings to twelve the number of sounds
included in the scale, [and] which likewise brings to twelve the number of scales or
tones belonging to our tonality. The manner of succession between the intervals is
determined by different affinities and attractions that pertain to them, and that, if we
may speak thus, incite them, one to descend to the lower degree, another to rise to the
higher degree, a third one to remain, as on a point of rest. . . . Hence it follows that
each isolated degree, not holding in itself a feeling of completion, far from being able
to be arbitrarily the final of the succession, it would be regarded as only an element in

that succession.38
D’Ortigue’s oppositions are twofold and related: diatonicism and modality on

the one hand versus chromaticism and tonality on the other. The distinguishing
features of the modern system include the twelve-tone scale, the notion of scale-
degree function, the related notion of tonic, and the possibility of modulation.
Also important for D’Ortigue and others was the use of the leading tone.
Concerning the famous Credo of Henri Dumont,
We will say that by the frequent use of the leading tone, by the modulation which
returns on the principal periods, by the cadence that ends this modulation, this Credo
belongs to modern tonality. . . . We will add that this Credo is not in the first mode of
plainchant, but in the key of D minor.39
Related to the question of the leading tone, the application of musica ficta
elicited sober injunctions from contemporary theorists, who declared the prac-
tice over-used. Concerning the raising of g to g as a neighbor-note to a, La Fage
wrote, “It is a very wrong habit, which must not be tolerated.”40
In some regions they descend only by a semitone below the tenor and sing
Di xit Do mi nus. Cre di di. Di li gam te.
it is a misplaced imitation of modern music which should not be endured at all, as it

introduces an absolutely foreign degree to the scale of the old mode and soon leads, as
we will see, to other alterations.41
Similarly, D’Ortigue and Niedermeyer contemptuously proposed: “If some musi-

cians make use of the half-tone so naturally and without reflection, does it not
imply that in their methods they are susceptible to the influence of secular
tonality?”42 Hoffmann’s view was compatible: “The melody must flow directly
from the pious mind. . . . But chromatic, intricate figures . . . are alien to all
church music.”43
D’Ortigue the historian went further, blaming the death of ancient tonality on
the very pillar of modern tonality, the tritone.
It happened that this diabolus in musica, this thing that, to repeat, did horror to nature,
did violence to organization, and that art banished from its realm; it happened that this
subversive element, destructive of the ancient tonality, became the basis, the founda-
tion, the keystone of modern tonality. . . . Hence, the absence of the tritone being the
necessary and essential condition of ancient tonality, and the presence of this same tri-
tone being the necessary and essential condition of modern tonality, it follows that
there is a radical incompatibility between the two tonalities.44
❧
D’Ortigue’s discourse on tonality owes much to F.-J. Fétis who, after all, popu-
larized the term.45 Fétis, like D’Ortigue, spoke of forces among tones: the
tension-filled harmonic tritone and the melodic charge of the leading tone. In
his view, the resulting possibility of modulation transformed music from uni-
tonique to transitonique, replacing religious music’s “solemn and majestic charac-
ter,” its “soft and calm affections” with the dramatic style of modern secular
music. “The expressive, passionate, dramatic accent is inseparable from the
attraction among tones and could not exist without it.”46
Musical ultra-conservatism extended beyond the limits of Catholic circles.
Thibaut, again, had this to say about Protestant chorales:
Everyone who is acquainted with music knows how these melodies have latterly been
translated into modern scales, and overloaded with sudden changes and modu-
lations. . . . Indeed, so long as the people [of Bach’s time] were content to remain
in utter ignorance of the old church tones, no real remedy for the evil was possible,
for the theoretical works on the subject then in existence threw but little light on the
matter.47
Although Thibaut gave no examples, “Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott” would
appear to embody just such an offending melody. To this day, this favorite of all
Lutheran hymns is better remembered in its Baroque redaction than in its
decidedly “modal” original, and the modern changes provide an excellent
window onto the nature of Thibaut’s and his contemporaries’ atavistic longings
(ex. 3.14). For one thing, the “common-practice” version includes applied lead-
ing tones (“sudden changes and modulations”). Still more intriguing, however,
is a more subtle alteration: passing tones filling in the pentatonic gaps 6–8 (of
the first phrase) and 5–3 (of the penultimate phrase).48 This all-important mat-
ter of passing tones and thirds constitutes the final component of nineteenth-
century chant theory, to which we now turn.
3. Leaps versus Steps: The Third
In 1741 Jean Lebeuf published his Traité historique et pratique sur le chant ecclésias-
tique, the sort of treatise that would become much more common in the nine-
teenth century. Although chastised posthumously by D’Ortigue for engaging in
misguided “corrections” of chant, Lebeuf’s work expressed a concern for
authenticity, critically engaging textual discrepancies among earlier editions.
The Belles Lettres began once again to flourish in the kingdom 200 years ago, which is
to say, under the reign of François I, but the Chant of the Church didn’t appear to gain
much perfection. While barbarism disappeared little by little in the colleges, certain
inflexible voices in the choirs of many churches still corrupted the sweetness of
Gregorian Psalmody. These cantors of the sort which Théodulfe, bishop of Orléans in
the ninth century, called Vox taurina [bull voice], feeling that at the end of certain
a
Ein fe ste Burg ist un ser Gott, ein gu te Wehr

Er hilft uns frei aus al ler Not, die uns itzt hat
und Waf fen, Der alt bö se Feind, mit Ernst

be trof fen,
er’s itzt meint, groß Macht und viel List sein grau sam Rü stung
ist auf Erd ist nicht seins glei chen.
Ein fes te Burg ist un ser Gott, ein gu te Wehr und Waf fen.
Er hilft uns frei aus al ler Not, die uns jetzt hat be trof fen.
Der alt bö se Feind, mit Ernst er’s jetzt meint, groß Macht und viel
List sein grau sam Rü stung ist, auf Erd’ ist nicht seins Glei chen.
Example 3.14. Two versions of Ein feste Burg. (a) Das Babstsche Gesangbuch (1545);
(b) Hauschoralbuch (1844).
❧
psalmodic terminations it was more convenient for them to descend by a third than by
stepwise degrees, changed the motion by seconds into thirds; for example
for the 1st mode, they put

instead of
æ u o u a e. æ u o u a e.
for the 3rd mode, they put

instead of
e u o u a e. e u o u a e.
for the 6th mode, they put

instead of
for the 7th mode, they put

instead of
And as the semitones appeared more difficult in practice because of the harshness of
their voice, they made the following change at the mediation of even the seventh mode:
instead of singing as had been done previously in Dixit Dominus
Do mi no me o:
49
they sang. . .
Do mi no me o:
In characteristic Enlightenment fashion, Lebeuf favored modernity (the Belles

Lettres) over medieval “barbarism,” in this instance associating stepwise melody
with the former, and simpler disjunct motion with the latter.
A hundred years after Lebeuf, Adrien de La Fage, in his Cours complet de plain-
chant, warned of precisely the opposite tendency in local variants of chant, as the
following excerpts demonstrate.
There is another formula of ferial oration which differs from the preceding only in the drop
of a minor third, sung on the last syllable of the oration and on the last of the conclusion.
Con ce de mi se ri cors De us fra gi li ta ti no stræ præ si di um...
re sur ga mus. Ou re sur ga mus. Per Chri stum Do mi num no strum. A men. Ou A men.
They also use, at will, the inflection of the third in the Dominus vobiscum. This second
ferial formula was often altered in the following manner, which merits no praise:50
O re mus. Con ce de no bis... Chri stum Do mi num no strum.

When the Pater is recited at the end of Nocturne and in some other cases, only the first
words and last words are intoned aloud, making on the last syllable an inflection of a
minor third, reproduced in the conclusion by the choir.
Pa ter no ster. Et ne nos in du cas in ten ta ti on em.
R. Sed li be ra nos a ma lo ou ma lo.
The second conclusion is bad.51
Of the four intonations of the Magnificat, the third seems the best to us; the first two
are tolerable, but the ornament placed at the end of the fourth gives it a completely
ridiculous aspect.52
Mag ni fi cat. Mag ni fi cat. Mag ni fi cat. Mag ni fi cat.
Each of La Fage’s admonitions addresses the unscrupulous interpolation of

steps, objections that find support from N. A. Janssen: “The si is apparently a
passing tone, which was arbitrarily introduced.”53 Janssen continues more
strongly, regarding example 3.15a, “The two semibreves are, again, notes of fill-
ing-in: and, consequently, they constitute a mistake.”54 Concerning the end of
the Pater noster (ex. 3.15b), he gives an alternate, stepwise cadence, with a suc-
cinct rebuke, again seconding La Fage on the same point.55
a b
mauvais
Sic ca ni tur pun ctum. nos à ma lo. ma lo.
Example 3.15. Censured passing tones (from Janssen, Les Vrais Principes du chant
grégorien, 1845).
Another chant scholar, F.-J. Fétis, provides further illumination on the ques-
tion of minor-third leaps. Fétis emphasizes the need to distinguish ornamental
semibreves from the more structural breves, a principle that he illustrates using
a characteristic Gregorian motive:
One sees thus that it completely denatures successions of this type to give to each note
the same value; for, in the example in question, the melody rests on these notes:
the others are but ornament.56

❧
Fétis contended with a great deal of what he considered textual infidelity, for
instance the discrepancy between two versions of a Gloria:
One will see that the simplicity of the primitive chant, so well conceived by the com-
poser, by reason of the length of the hymn and the quantity of words, was spoiled by a
multitude of superfluous notes, which rendered the chant languid and monotone in
this edition. . . .
For example, who will not be disagreeably affected to see this form, so simple and so
noble:
Do mi ne De us Rex cœ les tis.
replaced by this redundancy of notes?
Do mi ne De us Rex cœ le stis.
The whole Gloria in the French editions is full of absurdities of the same sort; some-
times even there is no likeness between the form of the ancient chant and that of the
modern. I will take for example this passage:
A do ra mus te.
which the editors have changed into this:57
A do ra mus te.
The complaint here involves melodic extravagance, while “simplicity” is deemed

the sine qua non of authentic chant. Even two isolated passing tones, apparently
added to a certain Regina coeli, draw censure from Fétis:
In putting two notes on the first syllable of the first alleluia, and two more on the third
syllable, [the editors] take away the natural grace of this passage. . . . With regard to the
second alleluia, no one could fail to see that all the notes joined by intervals of seconds
give a dull form, in comparison to that of the original chant. It is the same with the third
alleluia, which is a model of elegance in the ancient chant and whose form is tedious in
the French editions.58
Finally, consider Fétis’s analysis of the Sanctus in example 3.16, whose original
(pentatonic) opening is supposedly “a good deal more gracious and original”
than the later (stepwise) one.59
Sanc tus, Sanc tus,
Example 3.16. Two Sanctus openings.
4. Conclusions
One must proceed cautiously when assessing the comments of polemicists like
La Fage, Janssen, and Fétis, for while the question of thirds versus steps clearly
engendered a certain amount of attention—and a decided preference for the
former—it is equally clear that any number of considerations were involved,
from prosody to scalar integrity. Nevertheless, these quotations, along with
those above concerning chromaticism, leading tones, and tritones, demon-
strate a pronounced yearning for melodic and scalar purity in sacred music, a
purity (it will have been noted) exemplified by the pentatonic scale. Although
this connection was not explicitly made at the time, the discourse remains
highly suggestive.60
The meticulous scrutiny exhibited by these chant-lovers, their obsession with
authenticity, and their fierce opposition to major-minor tonality, to the modern
accretions of chromaticism, and to melodic opulence in general, represent an
essential component in the history of sacred music in the nineteenth century. In
such a climate, composers would have naturally internalized a deeper awareness
of plainchant modality. Although the ideological revolution of the Cecilians
remained largely a theoretical endeavor, composers exposed to their ideas, even
if not directly converted by their recommendations, must have become both
acutely sensitive to the infradiatonic style of chant, and increasingly concerned
with the melodic demands of their own sacred music.61
D. Other Connections
1. Primitivism qua spirituality
Thus far I have discussed Gregorian pentatonicism and its aesthetic and theo-
retical implications in the context of the nineteenth century, in the hope of clar-
ifying the motivations behind composers’ use of the religious pentatonic.
Beyond this, I would like to advance one more brief discussion, which will shed
further light on our topic and draw connections to chapter 2: Romantic con-
ceptions of the “primitive.”
Rousseau’s famous dictum, that society corrupts Man’s inherent goodness,
only gained in pertinence as the Industrial Revolution marched on. The notion, an
extension of the Enlightenment precept of human equality, became transformed
in the Romantic imagination such that some were “more equal than others”: for
❧
the Romantics, “high” and “low” met at the infinity of the divine.
A related notion that would blossom in the nineteenth century was the equa-
tion of nature with the supernatural. The Romantic fascination with rural life is
perhaps best demonstrated in painting, which abounds in pastoral scenes of
human simplicity and purity, images whose religious content can be more or less
explicit. “Collectively, [peasant-religious paintings] tell us that peasant man, the
most basic of men, lives his life in the service of God.”62
Millet’s L’Angélus (1857–59) is one exemplary depiction of the communion
between God and the meek of the earth (plate 3.1). An earlier and even more
emphatic expression of this Romanticized view is Vincent’s La Leçon de labourage
(1798), in which a wealthy family has brought their son to the country to be
tutored by a rugged plowman (plate 3.2). The old farmer educates the boy in
place of the child’s own father—indeed, with his sage and severe presence he
stands as the Eternal Father, to whom the biological parents respectfully defer.
The imposing aura of this patriarch conveys at once the earthly and the divine—
a divinity amplified by a commanding outstretched arm, an allusion to the God
of Michaelangelo’s Creation of Adam.63
Disclaimer:
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the printed version of this book.
Plate 3.1. Jean-François Millet, L’Angélus (1858–59). (Paris, Musée d’Orsay. Used
by permission).
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the printed version of this book.
Plate 3.2. François-André Vincent, La Leçon de Labourage (1798). (Bordeaux

Musée des Beaux-Arts. © Cliché du M. B. A. de Bordeaux. Photo Lysiane
Gauthier. Used by Permission.)
Writings about music also invoked this elevation of the primitive. Thibaut,
condemning what he thought to be elitist, intellectual art, observed,
On the other hand, all the melodies that spring from the people, or are retained by
them as favorites, are generally chaste and simple in nature like a child’s.
It is in this sense quite possible for a learned man to rank below a child.64
Hoffmann claimed that only those musicians “gifted with a childlike and pious
mind” would appreciate the subtle beauties of Renaissance music.65 As Dom
Prosper Guéranger, disciple of Lamennais and grandfather of the Solesmes proj-
ect, wrote, “Plainchant is the sung prayer of the people. . . . Its prosody bears the
people’s accent, its modes are natural scales, the people’s.”66 According to the
Nouvel eucologue en musique . . . , a book owned by Liszt: “In effect, plain-chant is
the melody of all, intelligible to all, at the same time that it expresses faithfully
and with more ability than any other song, the long prayer of the Church mili-
tant and the solemn thoughts of hearts far from their native land.”67
To be sure, the pastoral topic’s frequent appearance in religious contexts
antedates the Romantic movement, in part owing to traditional depictions of the
Nativity. Thus Liszt’s pentatonic “Hirtengesang an der Krippe” (ex. 3.17a) in fact
exists within a larger tradition of pastoral-religious music that includes Corelli’s
Christmas Concerto and Handel’s Pastoral Symphony. But in the absence of an
❧
a Allegretto pastorale
tranquillo
ten.
dim. rall. smorz.
dim.
Example 3.17. The intersection of the religious pentatonic and the primitive penta-
tonic. (a) (⫽P348) Liszt, Christus (1866–72), “Hirtengesang an der Krippe,” begin-
ning. (b) (⫽P349) Liszt, “Angélus! Prière aux anges gardiens” (1882), m. 120.
explicitly rustic program, a passage like the pentatonic dolcissimo con grazia from
Liszt’s “Angélus! Prière aux anges gardiens” (ex. 3.17b) makes a more complex
statement, suggesting a broader category of primitivism qua spirituality. That is,
in the case of the first three pieces mentioned, pastoral musical devices directly
express the pastoral content of the program, whereas in Liszt’s “Angélus,” that
expression involves an additional, unstated association: the Romantic conflation
of sacred and pastoral. Clearly the blurring of boundaries between primitivism
and religiosity implies an inherently reciprocal connection between the primi-
tive pentatonic and the religious pentatonic.
2. “The Idea of the Infinite”:

The Pentatonic Construction of Spirituality
Finally, and before at last surveying the repertoire of the religious pentatonic,
I wish to argue that spirituality in some sense resides “in” the pentatonic scale,
as it were, at least vis-à-vis the major scale. That is, beyond its associations with
plainchant or with the “noble savage,” pentatonicism serves as a fitting vehicle
for the idea of spirituality through its particular tonal aberrations. This con-
struction of spirituality, already alluded to by some of our informants above,
hinges on a few aesthetic and philosophical points, which I will now elucidate.
Conspicuously absent from the pentatonic scale, the tritone and leading tone
have routinely elicited metaphors related to tension and implication. Fétis’s
exposition of the concepts is highly revealing, and his anthropomorphic
language would be echoed by such theorists as Kurth and Schenker. Concerning

the tritone between 7 and 4, Fétis explains: “The attraction of these two notes,
the necessity for the seventh degree to rise while the fourth degree falls, is the
peculiar character of the leading tone, which received its name from this ten-
dency.”68 A similar interpretation attends Fétis’s disallowance of a triad on iii,
which he blames on the seventh degree, “of which the natural attraction toward
the tonic cannot be satisfying to the conditions of repose.”69
This metaphor of tonal energy may be understood as extending to any worldly
force—for instance, the attraction embodied in human desire. The notion of
desire as the burden of a fallen humanity is a familiar component of the Judeo-
Christian religious tradition, among others.
For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but
those who live according to the Spirit, the things of the Spirit.
For to be carnally minded is death, but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.
(Romans 8:5–6)
In nineteenth-century philosophy, Schopenhauer epitomizes this belief:
All willing arises from need, therefore from deficiency, and therefore from suffering.
The fulfillment of a wish ends it; yet for one wish that is fulfilled there remain at least
ten which are denied. Further, the desire lasts long, the demands are infinite; the satis-
faction is short and scantily measured out. . . . Therefore, as long as our consciousness
is filled by our will, as long as we are given up to the urgent prompting of desires with
their constant hopes and fears, as long as we are the subject of willing, we can never
have lasting happiness nor peace.70
In this view, spiritual peace comes not from the consummation of desire, but
rather from its negation, its transcendence. Not surprisingly, then, Schopenhauer
describes the essence of Christianity as “the surrender of all volition . . . the sup-
pression of will, and with it of the whole inner being of this world.”71 Given the
“willful” nature of 4 and 7, the implications for musical aesthetics are obvious and
surely account to some degree for the phenomenon of the religious pentatonic.72
The transcendent denial of leading-tone tendency must have been precisely
what Richard Strauss had in mind at the final cadence of Death and Transfiguration
(ex. 3.18). Here a prominent leading tone “resolves” down to 6 and then to 5, and
in so doing the melody conjures up the unfathomable, paradoxical world of the
Example 3.18. Strauss, Death and Transfiguration (1889), final cadence.

❧
hereafter. In contrast to the religious pentatonic, Strauss’s design draws upon the
aesthetic of the heroic, representing transcendence through struggle: the lead-
ing tone is introduced only to be confounded. A similar sense of transcendence,
however, assumes a more spiritual, more pacific expression through the religious
pentatonic, where melodic leading tones remain emphatically absent.
The very absence of the leading tone—the single most powerful tendency-
tone—may thus be understood as a musical metaphor for the divine, and the
degree to which this absence is emphasized will largely determine the strength
of the metaphor. According to this interpretation, one may hear the consonance
of the pentatonic scale as a reflection of existential peace; the behavior of 6 as a
“deliverance” from that degree’s traditional tonal servitude; the leap to 8 as an
impossibility that nevertheless flows effortlessly as a miraculous reversal of 6’s
tendency to fall. Especially at cadences, the “miracle” of 6–8 (compounded with
the traditional associations of melodic ascent) evokes that heavenly world in
which attractions cease to operate. These qualities resemble precisely those that
D’Ortigue so admired in the musical world of plainchant, where “the idea of suc-
cession is lost and is absorbed by each degree into the idea of the infinite, since
the succession brings to each chord the sentiment of fullness, of permanence,
and of abstract unity.”73
To complete our interrogation of nineteenth-century scalar ideology, con-
sider Fétis’s description of Arab “scales of sounds in small variable intervals,” which
entail “a languorous and sensual music . . . amorous songs and lusty dances.”
On the contrary, among the harsh and serious peoples of the yellow race, or Mongols,
music, solemn and monotone, strange and difficult for Europeans, is produced from a
tonal system where the semitone often disappears, and of which the incomplete scale is
composed of only five sounds placed at intervals of a tone from one another, with the
gaps where the semitones of the scale called diatonic are.74
Fétis’s opposition, while not consistent—music of small intervals is “sensual” and

“lusty,” while that of large intervals is “solemn and monotone,” “strange and
Table 3.2. A structuralist interpretation of the religious

pentatonic.
human ↔ divine
earthly ↔ heavenly
temporal ↔ eternal
corporeal ↔ spiritual
teleological ↔ discursive/spatial
dramatic ↔ religious
desire ↔ transcendence
leading tone ↔ no leading tone
major-minor ↔ pentatonic
difficult”—nevertheless strongly supports the possibility of a religious penta-

tonic. This interpretation seems to imply “chromatic ⫽ erotic,” from which
equation may be inferred the opposite one, “pentatonic ⫽ spiritual.”75
In summary then, the foregoing notions yield the network of oppositions
given in table 3.2.76
E. The Religious Pentatonic
I will now introduce examples of the religious pentatonic. As will be expected by

now, these examples vary widely both in extent and manner of usage. For this
reason they have been arranged in subcategories as follows: minimal examples;
cadential 6–8; bass 6–8; pentatonic themes; and pentatonic scales.
1. Minimal Examples
The pentatonic “step,” 5–3, though by far the less conspicuous of the scale’s two
minor thirds, can nevertheless serve as a potent allusion to pre-modern sacred
music. Example 3.19 ends with just such an allusion, which is strengthened by a
tonic triad drone ultimately giving way to monophony. (See also P270, P271.) By
the same token, the diatonic upper neighbor to 5 can serve as a marginally pen-
tatonic device (P272, P273), but it is when 6 abandons its stepwise allegiances
that the more archaic minor third 6–8 arises. The opening of Bruckner’s Te
Deum (P274) uses 7 in descent, but with an ensuing 6–8 leap, as is typical in
chant; the first instance of 6–7 represents a tonal intrusion, occasioning a shift
from C major to the distant key of B major. Quite often 6–8 motion approaches
the nature of cadential action (P275–P280); fully cadential 6–8 comprises an
important element of the religious pentatonic, to be discussed later.
As mentioned above, a particularly common pentatonic formula is the
Gregorian incipit, a rising succession of a major second and a minor third. The
formula naturally turns up when chant is quoted, as in the canonical intonation
that composers such as Michael Haydn sometimes incorporated into their
Gloria Mass movements (ex. 3.20). Haydn’s Missa Sancti Hieronymi (P282) also
displays the composer’s well-known sensitivity to this melodic style: in the
Benedictus, the theme’s initial 1–3–5 is answered imitatively as 5–6–8, rather
than the more typical tonal answers 5–7–8, 5–8–2, or 5–8–3. Other eighteenth-
century usage of the Gregorian incipit, however, tended not to traverse 6–8: the
Credo of Mozart’s Mass, K. 192, for instance, renders it as 1–2–4.
The Gregorian incipit sometimes goes unharmonized (in keeping with its ori-
gins), though plagal progressions provide an obvious harmonic accompaniment.
Mahler responded ingeniously to the incipit’s harmonic implications and the pos-
sibilities of pentatonic voice leading: in the “breakthrough” theme of his Symphony
#1, bass and melody accomplish what might be described as a pentatonic voice
et non sup plan ta bun tur gres sus e jus.
Choral
Al le lu ja, al le lu ja.
Example 3.19 (⫽P269). Bruckner, Os justi (1879), end.
Allegro ma non troppo
Glo ri a in ex cel sis De o
Example 3.20 (⫽P281). Michael Haydn, Missa Sancti Aloysii (1777), Gloria,
beginning.
exchange (P283, mentioned in chapter 1). That this gesture can be heard as a
(major/pentatonic) transformation of the movement’s initial minor-key theme
suggests the notion of spiritual transcendence and calls to mind the programmatic
title contained in an early version of this movement, “Dall’Inferno al Paradiso.”
Clearly, though, the theme relates to Wagner’s “Grail motif” from Parsifal in shar-
ing a common source, the so-called Dresden Amen tune (ex. 3.21a, b). Tellingly,
the more classically oriented “Reformation” Symphony of Mendelssohn (ex. 3.21c)
presents only the second half of the theme, i.e., omitting the Gregorian incipit—
perhaps a judgment upon non-classical 6 as musically and religiously “unre-
formed.” (Similarly, though perhaps more surprisingly, Mendelssohn’s paraphrase
of “Ein feste Burg” later in this symphony transforms Luther’s 6–8 into 7–8.)
Referring to Wagner’s “Grail motif,” Liszt once confessed, “Those intervals are
very well known to me, as I have written them time and time again! . . . However,
a 3 3
sempre
Example 3.21. The “Dresden Amen” in three versions. (a) (⫽P283) Mahler,
Symphony #1 (1888), iv, “breakthrough” theme, reh. 26, (b) (⫽P284) Wagner,
Parsifal (1881), Prelude, “Grail motif,” m. 38, (c) Mendelssohn, “Reformation”
Symphony (1830), i, m. 33.
❧
they are old Catholic intervals, and so even I did not invent them myself.”77 Liszt
found no shortage of uses for the incipit, whether as part of a freely invented
allusion to chant (P285), or as a bona-fide parody (P286). (The latter melody
shows how the pentatonic scale can be constructed from the incipit together
with an inversionally related pitch-class set.) Borrowed or not, the formula’s
appearance in the Dante Symphony sports Liszt’s original contribution of a har-
monization that boldly overturns conventional harmonic syntax, V–IV–I (P287);
also contained in this excerpt is an equally bold gesture that is the subject of the
next section: a 6–8 cadence.
(See also P288–P291.)
2. Cadential 6–8
One distinctive innovation of Romantic harmony was the increased use of pla-
gal progressions at all levels of formal structure, a stylistic trait related to a gen-
eral reorientation toward “flat-side” harmony and what might be called the
“coda aesthetic.” Leonard Meyer has asked why this came about.
Why, that is, were plagal cadences chosen by Romantic composers but not by those of
the Classic period (although the cadences were just as available then)? One reason, sug-
gested by Ruth A. Solie (in a personal communication), is that plagal endings are
related, through the “Amen” aspects of the cadence, to the sacred. From this point of
view, the choice of plagal progressions at the end of works can be related to the reli-
gious aura surrounding artists, works of art, and aesthetic experience.78
Certainly, eighteenth-century composers did choose plagal cadences on occasion

(see table 1.1, p. 29), but Meyer’s question could be extended to the important
question of voice leading: Why is it that the 6–8 cadence, which was stylistically
unavailable in the eighteenth century, emerged and thrived in the music of the
Romantic era? One explanation for its later appearance involves the ideological
factors discussed in the present chapter: I propose that the 6–8 melody, via its
allusion to chant (as in the liturgical Amens of ex. 3.22)79, contributed an addi-
tional degree of spiritual significance to the increasingly conventional plagal
cadence. The bona-fide religion of Christianity could thus be distinguished, via
6–8, from Meyer’s metaphorical “religion” of absolute music.
Among the earliest Romantic 6–8 cadences that I know of appears in the
Religiosamente concluding the first movement of Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique
(P292), the style-historical importance of which was discussed in chapter 1.
Having now established the interpretive framework of the religious pentatonic,
we can better understand the cadence in relation to the symphony’s program,
in particular the hero’s “religious consolations.” The delicate homophonic
orchestral texture, the hushed dynamics, and the purity of C major, all create
an ethereal tone that amplifies the humble aesthetic of the pentatonic figure.
Moreover, this section engages a certain “play” between a and a (as does the
piece’s idée fixe itself) but resolves the matter in favor of the pentatonic ascent:
Janssen (1845)
re gnas in sæ cu la sæ cu lo rum. R. A men.
Haberl (1865/1900)
Su per te or ta est. In sǽ cu la sæ cu ló rum. A men.
Example 3.22. “6–8” Amens in two nineteenth-century liturgical books.
qui cke sein Herz!
qui cke sein Herz!
qui cke sein Herz!
dim.
Example 3.23 (⫽P293). Brahms, Alto Rhapsody (1869), end.
the melodic 6–8 “redeems,” as it were, the inner-voice 6–5.80 This technique
of the “Picardy sixth” (introduced in chapter 1)—the 6–8 cadence as an auda-
cious foil to prior chromaticism—thus consummates the rhetorical meaning of
religious pentatonicism. The device functions in two distinct semiotic modes:
in addition to its direct evocation of liturgical chant, it serves as a tonal
metaphor of salvation, a seemingly miraculous deliverance of 6 from its trag-
ically downward-tending (which is to say, earth-bound) existence.81 The
Picardy sixth accounts for much of the feeling of consolation in the final
chords of Brahms’s Alto Rhapsody (ex. 3.23), which involves both melodic and
inner-voice chromaticism prior to the plagal 6–8 (see also P294). A still more
emphatic catharsis attends the coda of Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet (P295,
also mentioned in chapter 1), in which a prominent and pathetic 6, reinter-
preted as 5, forms an appoggiatura to the ensuing, celestial 6.82 Clearly,
❧
rit.
Lauretta
Bab bo, pie tà, pie tà!
(piangendo)
bab bo, pie tà, pie tà! . . .
rall.
Example 3.24 (⫽P296). Puccini, Gianni Schicchi (1918), “O mio babbino caro,” end.
evocations of the sacred have fruitful applications to ostensibly secular music

as well, here expressing the religious sentiments proper to the subjects of
death and reconciliation.83
Overtones of pentatonicism’s associations with the primitive merge seamlessly
with the religious pentatonic in example 3.24; by using the 6–8 cadence here,
Puccini foregrounds the allusive nature of the text as both a childish plea
(“babbo”) and a solemn prayer (“pietà”).
3. Bass 6–8
8
In the recurring cadential formula of the “Dona nobis” from Beethoven’s Missa
Solemnis (ex 3.25), the bass leap 6–8 forms a sort of appoggiatura—or rather, a har-
monization of the sopranos’ appoggiatura—which explanation renders the non-
classical voice leading no less remarkable. In the nineteenth century, the adoption
of 6–8 (or 6–1) motion in the bass does sometimes serve a cadential role in its own
right and thus forms another distinctive component of the religious pentatonic.
Consider Liszt’s Adagio for organ (ex. 3.26a), a faithful transcription of his own
Consolation #4 for piano (ex. 3.26b). Among the handful of subtle revisions
applied to the earlier piece, the most significant occurs at the final cadence, where
S.
cem, do na no bis pa cem,
A.
T.
B.
Example 3.25 (⫽P322). Beethoven, Missa Solemnis (1823), “Dona,” mm. 26–31.
Example 3.26. Liszt, two versions of the same plagal cadence. (a) (⫽P323)
Adagio for organ (1867), end; (b) Consolation #4 (1850), end.
Liszt replaces the standard plagal with a bass 6–8 cadence. The change demon-
strates, perhaps, a more religiously oriented use of this religious instrument, or
else the older composer’s more sensitive interpretation of the expressive marking
con divozione. These cadences can function either in low-level foreground articula-
tions (P324), or in more structurally significant contexts (P325). Above all, the
❧
Ho san na Ho san na
Ho san na Ho san na
Ho san na Ho san na
Ho san na Ho san na
Example 3.27 (⫽P326). Liszt, Christus (1866–72), “Resurrexit,” m. 357.
Example 3.28. Two cadences from Niedermeyer and D’Ortigue, Gregorian

Accompaniment (1857), pp. 62, 77.
consonant status of 6 with 1 makes for a softening of the cadential energy, even in
as unusual a succession as the cadence in example 3.27, vi7–I–ii7–I.
As it happens, cadences such as these—typically IV6–I or vi–I—conform to the
guidelines established by Niedermeyer and D’Ortigue for the accompaniment
of chant. The two pedagogues forbade dominant seventh chords and discour-
aged 5–1 bass leaps, insisting that even the bass line should obey the “laws” of
“plainchant melody.”84 In fact, some of the harmonizations they propose make
copious use of third motion in the bass (ex. 3.28).85
4. Pentatonic Themes
While the foregoing examples have displayed varying degrees of pentatonic inflec-
tion, the present section includes material of a more assertively pentatonic nature
and/or of greater thematic importance—of which Fauré’s “In paradisum” dis-

cussed above (P338) offers a classic example. Both the Kyrie and Christe of Liszt’s
Missa Choralis are pentatonic, the former an ambiguous modal theme suggesting
both minor and relative major, the latter more firmly planted in the major (P339,
P340). Liszt’s pentatonic themes comprise a majority of these examples;86 in addi-
tion to his many newly composed themes, others have been taken from other
sources. A leitmotif of his St. Elisabeth (P341) comes from the chant “Quasi stella,”
while his organ eulogy Am Grabe Richard Wagners (P342) borrows Wagner’s “bell
motif” (P343), a tetratonic theme (1–5–6–3) to which Liszt added a cadential 2–1.
In Wagner’s original (the conclusion to act 1 of Parsifal), the bells toll repetitively
under gentle C-major chords, underscoring the choir’s words “Selig im Glauben.”
Repetition likewise amplifies the pentatonic theme of Brünnhilde’s sleep con-
cluding Die Walkürie (ex. 3.29). As Wotan’s magic spell plunges Brünnhilde deeper
and deeper into the realm of the unconscious, a seventeen-measure decrescendo (p
dolce to ppp) accompanies a gradual abandonment of dominant harmony, even as
the 6–5 appoggiaturas remain.87 The signification here is multifaceted: via the reli-
gious pentatonic (sleep as otherworldly, the spell as supernatural) and via the
primitive pentatonic (the sleeper as innocent, the music as lullaby).
5. Pentatonic Scales
A still more powerful effect results when the pentatonic scale is used not thematically,
but rather as purely sonorous material. Pentatonic scales—as scales per se—sometimes
act as a fleeting sign of the supernatural. This subcategory, then, further encourages
the acceptance of the larger category of the “religious pentatonic” as a topos in its own
right, more than a mere circumstantial corollary of “noble simplicity.”
A particularly touching example occurs in the final movement of Bruckner’s Te
Deum (ex. 3.30). A formidable double fugue has been building in intensity, cul-
minating in one of the movement’s few cadences, to the global dominant, G
major. The climax involves a crescendo from p to ff and a rising sequence in which
the sopranos trace a fully chromatic octave ascent, g⬘–g⬘⬘. Following the downbeat
of the cadence, the entire texture immediately drops out, and the first violins play
a descending pentatonic scale spanning three octaves. Loud is answered by soft,
rising is answered by falling, and, most importantly, chromatic is answered by pen-
tatonic. In short, humanity’s desperate and frenzied plea, “Let us not be con-
founded,” meets divine grace in all its surprising tranquility. (Gounod’s St. Cecilia
Mass sets apart its final Amens in a similar, if less dramatic, way; see P357.)
Pentatonic scales were a favorite device of Liszt’s (P358–P367). The striking
pentatonic scales of the misterioso within the Faust movement of Liszt’s Faust
Symphony (P358) have eluded the piece’s many commentators, who prefer to
label the passage in purely formal terms (“episode,” “development,” etc.).
Constantin Floros alone has advanced a hermeneutic reading of the passage:
(Er wendet sich langsam zum Gehen.)
8va
dolce
(8va)
più
(8va)
sempre più
(Er wendet sich nochmals mit dem Haupt un blickt zurück.)

(8va)
(8va)
Example 3.29 (⫽excerpt of P344). Wagner, Die Walküre (1856), III/3,

Brünnhilde’s sleep, 17 from end.
poco a poco cresc.
te Do mi ne spe
poco a poco cresc.
Do mi ne, Do mi
dar, non con fun dar,

poco a poco cresc.
ter num, non con fun dar in ae ter num, non con
poco a poco cresc.
cresc. sempre
ra vi, spe ra vi, spe ra
ne, Do mi ne, non con
non con fun dar, non con fun dar

marc.
fun dar in ae ter num, in ae ter
cresc.
Example 3.30 (⫽P356). Bruckner, Te Deum (1884), “In te, Domine, speravi,”
mm. 55–64.
❧
vi:
fun dar in ae ter num, non
in ae ter num, non con fun
num, non con fun dar in
dim.
“This passage, which has something Impressionistic, atmospheric-ethereal about

it, can only point to the symbol of the Macrocosmos, which Faust finds in
Nostradamus’s book.”88 An acknowledgement of the religious pentatonic can
confirm Floros’s intuition, as Faust’s beholding the sacred symbol marks his
turning from philosophy to religion, or at least, from Mind to Spirit.
The pentatonic scale in Liszt’s Sposalizio (P360)—traversed via échappées—is organ-
ically related to the thematic material of the piece, lending the coda the character
of an understated apotheosis. In this piece, as in the “Miracle of the Roses” from
Liszt’s St. Elisabeth (P361), the pentatonic scale may serve a dual function in signify-
ing the pastoral as well as the divine. Descending scales seem to be Liszt’s preferred
use, but rising scales are also found, and the difference appears to be significant. In
the first verse of Liszt’s St. Cecilia cantata (P362), for instance, we are told of the
famous musician who offers holy songs night and day, which image occasions a shift
to D and a rising pentatonic scale, marked dolce ; likewise, two of St. Elisabeth’s
prayers are punctuated by rising added-sixth lines (ex. 3.31; see also P364). Hence,
if descending pentatonic scales represent a glimpse of heaven, it seems that ascend-
ing scales represent human (or more specifically, saintly) petitions to God.
All of the examples discussed here have been associated with delicate textures
and soft dynamics (dolce is a common indication). The choral climax of Liszt’s
poco rit. a tempo rall.
ja, ich kom me bald!
Example 3.31 (⫽P363). Liszt, St. Elisabeth (1862), II/5, Elisabeth’s death prayer,
m. 42.
grandioso
6
con forza 6
6
6
6
con forza 6
6
6
Example 3.32 (⫽P367). Liszt, “Invocation” from Harmonies poétiques et religieuses

(1848), mm. 52–59.
Ossa arida (P365), however, involves an ecstatic outpouring: accompanying the

last of three exhortations to “Audite verbum Domine” (“Hear the word of the
Lord”), the organ presents repeated pentatonic scalar figures, fortissimo and
doubled in four octaves, as an overwhelming confrontation with divine majesty.
Something of the same nature occurs throughout Ordo from Septem Sacramenta
(P366). The fetishization of pentatonic scales in these examples and others (for
instance, ex. 3.32) is related to a final category of pentatonicism that we will
explore in the next chapter, the coloristic pentatonic glissando.
Part 3
Beyond Signification
Chapter Four
The Pentatonic Glissando

In the last two chapters, I have focused on pentatonicism as signifier, a network
of musical and extramusical signs derived from a multitude of historical sources
and marshaled by nineteenth-century composers for the purpose of represen-
tation. It would be doctrinaire, however, to suppose that compositional deci-
sions were solely the product of ideological forces and programmatic
tendencies: musical elements don’t just stand to impress a composer as (con-
ceptually) right, but also as (acoustically) good. And even granting that “sound-
ing good” entails aesthetic (and hence, ideological) assumptions, we must
acknowledge a broad class of pentatonicism whose derivation can be said to be
in some sense “purely musical.” The subtle change in melodic sensibility traced
in chapter 1, after all, arose as much from within composers’ fertile imagina-
tions as from a self-conscious assimilation of foreign elements. Meanwhile, we
have also encountered some of Liszt’s extravagant pentatonic scalar passages
which, whatever their programmatic motivations, bespeak a certain infatuated
celebration of sound for its own sake. In this chapter I will describe a promi-
nent and influential tradition of nonsignifying pentatonicism, the coloristic
pentatonic harp glissando, which I believe inspired Liszt’s and others’ virtuoso
pentatonic pianism, and which was an important forerunner of the use by the
Impressionists of pentatonicism “en soi” (as Serge Gut termed it), the subject
of chapter 5.1
A. The Harp in the Nineteenth Century
It was noted in chapter 2 that a technical peculiarity of the piano—the arrange-

ment of its twelve notes into black and white keys—furnished pianists with a
direct introduction to the pentatonic scale. The modern harp possesses a simi-
larly fortuitous design feature that likewise affords a handy, if less obvious, illus-
tration of pentatonicism. Ironically, the development of this feature—the
so-called “double action,” patented by Érard in 1810—was motivated by a desire
to make the harp more fully chromatic. It fell to harpists to explore the unique
implications of Érard’s design; their curiosity and ingenuity led to the discovery
of musical resources that rank among the most characteristic elements in the
harp’s vocabulary.
146 ❧ the pentatonic glissando
1. The Harp: History, Construction, and Performance
At the turn of the nineteenth century, the piano and the harp were more equal
in musical stature than they are today, thanks in part to the popularity endowed
to the latter by one of its most famous aficionados, Marie Antoinette.2
Describing musical life at the French court, Leopold Mozart mentioned harp
composers as prominently as keyboard composers.3 Beethoven, whose Variations
on a Swiss Song, WoO 64, were published by Simrock “pour la harpe ou le forte-
piano,” once wrote to the piano maker Streicher, “I hope the time will come
when the harp and the pianoforte will be treated as entirely different instru-
ments.”4 Pratt has even speculated that certain of Haydn’s piano sonatas and
Mendelssohn’s Songs without Words were originally conceived with the harp in
mind.5 In the nineteenth century, the harp became, along with the guitar, an
important feature of domestic music making and of salon life, offering a rela-
tively inexpensive alternative to the piano.6 Judging from the quantity of pot-
pourris and variations on operatic themes written for the harp, the instrument
shared with the piano a large body of popular repertoire. The most celebrated
harp virtuoso of the century, Elias Parish-Alvars (whom we will discuss shortly),
was also an accomplished pianist who published many of his works in versions
intended for either instrument.
This rivalry notwithstanding, the harp and the piano are, from a technical per-
spective, very different instruments. The rather perplexing assembly of notes in
example 4.1, for instance—technically, an augmented-seventh chord—is a pecu-
liar response to the instrument for which it was written, the modern harp.7 With
seven strings to the octave, the harp is first of all a diatonic instrument; chro-
matic notes, which are produced by a pedal action, occur only as alterations of
the seven diatonic pitch-classes. (Harp designs with twelve strings to the octave
had been attempted but proved impractical for both builder and player.)
Hence, the enharmonicism of this example (what harpists call a “homophone”
or “synonym”) is more than a notational anomaly, but a practical reality: in con-
trast to the enharmonic conflations of the piano keyboard, the harp’s a and b
sound on two adjacent strings.
8va
Example 4.1. Félix Godefroid (1818–97), Etudes mélodiques (posthumous), #2,

“Les Arpèges,” m. 9.
❧
the pentatonic glissando 147
Moreover, this contrived arpeggio bespeaks further technicalities that

confront the harpist in performance, namely: (1) the fact that the harp,
being a plucked instrument, is inhospitable to the re-articulation of a vibrat-
ing string; (2) the harpist’s use of only four fingers (the little finger, on
account of its shortness and weakness, is not used); (3) the difficulty in quickly
repositioning the hand. The enharmonic a, then, transforms a desired triadic
flourish into a four-note pattern, which falls happily under the hands and
ensures a consistent fingering in each successive octave.8 While this idiosyn-
cratic arpeggio may appear to be little more than a novelty, similar motivations
surely account for the arpeggio in the second measure of example 4.2, a tonic
added-sixth chord. Importantly, this straightforward four-note arpeggio is
obtainable without enharmonicism and the conceptually esoteric augmented
seventh.
We will return to the added-sixth arpeggio later. For the time being, we can
note an impulse among nineteenth-century harp composers to devise four-
note approximations of triadic consonance in their arpeggiated passages, anal-
ogous to the ubiquitous (and likewise, four-note) dominant-seventh and
diminished-seventh arpeggios of the eighteenth century (and as in the first
measure of example 4.2). This impulse represents a step toward a momentous
innovation in nineteenth-century music: the development of additive har-
mony. A more decisive step depended on an advance in harp design perfected
by Sébastien Érard in the early 1800s, a historical detail that warrants some
digression.
con forza
Example 4.2 (⫽P368). Parish-Alvars, Serenade, op. 83 (1846), mm. 30–31.

2. The Double-Action Harp
The harp as it existed at the turn of the nineteenth century had suffered from
deficiencies of which even its devotees were acutely aware.9 The pedal appar-
atus in general use at that time was a “single action” mechanism that allowed
the player to raise any pitch-class a semitone. Although all twelve tones of the
equal-tempered chromatic scale were thus available, certain common melodic
successions would require the rapid repedaling of a single string, a difficult
and ultimately unsatisfactory maneuver. (A melodic minor scale, for example,
is not possible without undue pedal changes.) And because only sharpwards
chromatic modifications were possible, key choice and modulations were
likewise constrained: in the conventional open tuning of E major, the harp
could accommodate the most often encountered major keys (E, B, F, C, G,
D, A, and E), but any keys outside of this orbit would not support a complete
scale.
Such melodic and tonal limitations captured the attention of the celebrated
piano builder Sébastien Érard, who developed and perfected an improved
design for the harp during the course of over twenty years, starting around 1790.
Thanks to Érard’s musical vision, technical ingenuity, and business sense, the
harp remained competitive during the rapid ascendancy of the piano in the
early nineteenth century. His chief innovation was the introduction of an action
capable of raising each pitch-class not just one semitone, but as many as two.
Thus, when his “double-action harp” (harpe à double mouvement) was tuned in C
major, it became possible to play in any flat or sharp key: depressing all the ped-
als halfway yields the scale of C major; depressing them fully yields the scale of
C major; and particular pedaling configurations exist for each of the other keys,
even with two options for most pairs of enharmonically equivalent keys.
Table 4.1. Tonal and melodic capabilities of the single- and double-action harps.
enharmonically semitones 3-note 4-note
duplicable chromatic chromatic
pitches clusters clusters
all but:
Single-action e⫽d f–f f–g–a
harp in E a⫽g b–b g–a–b none
c–c c–d–e
a–b–c–d
b–c–d–e
Double-action all but: all all c–d–e–f
harp in C g, a, d d–e–f–g
e–f–g–a
g–a–b–c
❧
Moreover, the double-action harp yields many more potential enharmonic

redundancies than does the single-action harp, and the harpist thereby acquires
a greater flexibility of pedaling options in many situations, which ultimately
increases the playability of chromatic passages. Table 4.1 illustrates these new
resources by enumerating the many chromatic spans that became practical only
on Érard’s harp.
Conceptually, the new design was but a logical extension of the old—Érard’s
achievement hinged mainly upon overcoming mechanical and intonation
issues—but the benefit to the player was immense. And although Érard’s
improvements failed to fulfill an admirer’s prediction that “the rivalry between
piano and harp will undoubtedly be settled in favor of the harp,”10 Érard’s basic
design of 1811 gradually gained widespread acceptance and has been the stand-
ard ever since. Nevertheless, the double-action harp’s expanded chromatic
palette conceals an inevitable deficiency it shares with its older sibling: it can
sound no more than seven pitch-classes at any given time, for which reason
Berlioz (a champion of Érard’s harp) called both instruments “essentially
antichromatic.”11
3. The Enharmonic Glissando
“Antichromatic,” indeed! Pedalings that produce fewer than seven pitch-classes con-
stitute a great and unexpected benefit for the harpist, as a calculated coordination
of synonyms may yield extraordinary effects. Perhaps the simplest application of this
capability is the device sometimes called martellato, the rapid reiteration of a single
pitch by essentially “trilling” adjacent strings that have been pedaled into a unison.12
In example 4.3, the harp thereby mimics the tremolo picking of a mandolin. This
(F E )
Example 4.3. Parish-Alvars, Grand Study in Imitation of the Mandolin, op. 84

(1846), mm. 18–20.
technique achieved its consummation in the significantly more ambitious “enhar-

monic glissando.” Berlioz, though he seems never to have used the device himself,
gave the following excited account in his orchestration treatise:
It is truly incredble what today’s great harpists can exploit from these double notes,
which they called “synonyms.” M. Parish Alvars, possibly the most extraordinary virtu-
oso of the harp ever heard, plays figures and arpeggios which appear at first sight to be
absolutely impossible, but whose difficulty exists solely in the ingenious use of the ped-
als. He plays passages like [the following] with extraordinary rapidity.
Allegro assai
8va
etc.
The ease of this passage becomes obvious when one realises that the player has only to
slide with three fingers from the top strings downwards, without fingering individ-
ual notes and as fast as he pleases, since by using synonyms the instrument is tuned
completely in a series of minor thirds, producing a chord of the diminished seventh.
Instead of a descending scale of C major
it has13
To be more precise, the pedals in this case would be set to a–b–c–d–e–f–g,

effectively eliminating three of the harp’s seven notes.
The technique Berlioz described has been called variously the sdrucciolando,
the “Aeolian flux,” the “four-toned enharmonic scale,” the “enharmonische
Septimenakkorde,” and, colloquially, “one of the harp’s big bags.”14 It is without
a doubt the most distinctive tool the harpist wields, and as such it has perhaps
been overused: “Some composers, it has been said, demand of their Harpists not
fingers, but brooms.”15 Nevertheless, the genesis of the enharmonic glissando
appears to have been purely accidental, a fortuitous consequence of Érard’s
chromatic improvements combined with the increasing popularity of the glissé.
The earliest reference that I have found for this resourceful application of syn-
onyms is from the harpist, composer, and pedagogue Nicholas Charles Bochsa,
❧
who in 1832 described not a glissando, but an “enharmonic arpeggio.” This

device, “more Showy than difficult,” was fingered as a scale, but sounded as an
arpeggiated chord of either the dominant seventh or diminished seventh.16 Yet,
in the more than fifty works of his that I have been able to examine (compo-
sitions, arrangements, and collections of exercises) I have found only one that
exploits the harp’s enharmonic resources in this way: his La Valse du feu:
Impromptu fantastique of fifteen years later uses diminished-seventh glissandi to
depict the “subterranean noises” of Mt. Vesuvius (ex. 4.4). Bochsa may have
normally adopted a more conservative mode in his published compositions, so
as not to alienate the many players at the time who owned only a single-action
harp (for years the instrument of choice at the Paris Conservatoire, thanks to the
dubious political influence of the Naderman family, purveyors of single-action
harps). His most famous pupil, on the other hand, Elias Parish-Alvars (the
English prodigy mentioned above by Berlioz), boldly explored the musical pos-
sibilities of his instrument throughout an extensive and successful career of tour-
ing and composing. The illustrious harp patriarch Alphonse Hasselmans
assessed Parish-Alvars’ importance with the simple epithet, “our Paganini.”17
Bruit souterrain
Allegretto
Near the sounding board
B
G
veloce
glissando
Example 4.4. Bochsa, La Valse du feu (1847), mm. 17–19.

B. The Pentatonic Glissando
1. Parish-Alvars and the Pentatonic Glissando
In his own day, Parish-Alvars (1808–49) enjoyed another flattering epithet, this
one offered by Berlioz: “The man is the Liszt of the harp.”18 Berlioz heard him play
on at least two occasions, in Dresden and in Frankfurt, and reported having been
“mesmerized” by his music.19 In the course of the harpist’s concert tours through-
out Europe, Russia, and the Near East, he had occasion also to meet Thalberg,
Czerny, Field, Mendelssohn, and Liszt, the latter of whom likewise described the
Englishman in reverent tones: “His face is comparatively mature for his years, and
from underneath his prominent forehead speak his dreamy eyes expressive of the
glowing imagination which lives in his compositions.”20 (Liszt supposedly made a
habit of imposing on his one-time flame Rosalie Spohr to favor him with private
performances of Parish-Alvars’ fantasies.21) Upon Parish-Alvars’ untimely death in
1849, he was eulogized by the Oesterreicherische Courier : “Who in the musical world
did not know him, love him, and honor him?”22
Parish-Alvars popularized many novel harp effects, including the use of har-
monics, damped notes, and the “pedal slide.”23 In addition, it has been speculated
that Thalberg’s renowned “three-hand technique” on the piano was inspired by
the harpist’s similarly ambitious textures.24 Above all, Parish-Alvars’ pursuit of
the harp’s enharmonic possibilities effected a small revolution for the instru-
ment. While Bochsa apparently used enharmonic arpeggios sparingly and theo-
rized only the diminished-seventh and dominant-seventh varieties, Parish-Alvars
made more extensive use of the device and entertained such unlikely pitch-sets
as that shown in example 4.5; this glissando has the peculiar property of sound-
ing “out of order,” on account of a doubly diminished second, b–c, which pro-
duces a seeming 4–3 appoggiatura.25
Diminished-seventh and dominant-seventh glissandi were certainly Parish-
Alvars’ favorites, but pentatonic and added-sixth sets are the next most frequent.
His experiments with glissandi in additive harmony may ultimately relate to the
four-note fingering patterns mentioned above: in Parish-Alvars’ oeuvre appear
several added-sixth arpeggios (P369–P376) and a few added-ninth arpeggios
(P377–P378). (These fingered patterns occur most often in descent, as is tech-
nically easier for the player.26) As enharmonic glissandi per se, the four-note sets
of Iadd6 (ex. 4.6; see also P380–P382), viio7, and V7 are abundantly available on
the double-action harp, but not at all on the single-action (table 4.2).27 The pen-
tatonic glissando (ex. 4.7; see also P384–P387), available on the double-action
harp in all chords, is available on the single-action harp in only those four
chords that would have been avoided as tonics. (Added-ninth glissandi are not
possible on either instrument.) The four- and five-note sets of Iadd6 and Iadd6,9
represent the “optimum tonal consonance” of the modern harp, to borrow
David Huron’s term and to formalize what I meant earlier by “sounding good.”28
In short, some incalculable combination of Érard’s innovation, Bochsa’s and
to be played
B
F
Example 4.5. Parish-Alvars, Grand Study in Imitation of the Mandolin (1846),

mm. 28–30.
(G )
(D ) (B ) 19
glissando
glissando 19
Example 4.6 (⫽P379). Parish-Alvars, Fantasia, op. 35 (1838), 51 after Allegro

con fuoco.
Table 4.2. Enharmonic glissando capabilities of the single- and double-

action harps.
viio7 V7 Iadd6,9 Iadd6 Iadd9 I
Single-action none none A, B, none none none
harp in E C, F
Double-action all E, B, G, all E, B, G, none none
harp in C D, A D, A
8va
loco
sdrucciolando
E G
Example 4.7 (=P383). Parish-Alvars, La Danse des fées (1844), 26 after Allegro.
Parish-Alvars’ inventiveness, and the aural and digital currency of the added-
sixth chord together generated a unique source of pentatonicism, one heard
throughout the salons of Europe.
Such pentatonicism serves a primarily coloristic function, a mildly dissonant
substitute for tonic stability in a wash of sound somewhere between melody and
harmony. As such, the major added-sixth chord represents the limit of the harp
glissando’s consonant potential. If this pursuit of consonance was Parish-Alvars’
ultimate purpose, he achieved it only late in his career, exceeding the added-
sixth limit through an additional contrivance: his posthumous Grand Fantasia on
“I Capuleti e i Montecchi” by Bellini and “Semiramide” by Rossini prescribed tuning
the f-string a semitone low. This nonstandard tuning (what string players refer
❧
8va
(8va)
{G }
Example 4.8. Parish-Alvars, Grand Fantasia on “I Capuleti e i Montecchi” by Bellini

and “Semiramide” by Rossini (posthumous; 1850), end.
to as scordatura) yields the possibility of an extra (triple) synonym and an unadul-

terated triadic glissando on A major: a–b–c–d–e–f–g (ex. 4.8).29
2. The Larger Impact of the Pentatonic Glissando
It is difficult to ascertain the immediate impact of Parish-Alvars’ enharmonic

glissandi among composers and theorists. Berlioz, while captivated by the enhar-
monic glissando, never called for the device. Liszt did, though only in diminished-
seventh form, in keeping with the turbulent drama of his harp cadenzas.30
Orchestration manuals provide but a limited record. Berlioz’s account quoted
above appeared only in the second (1855) edition of his orchestration treatise,
which mentions only in passing the possibility of “chords . . . other than those of
the diminished seventh.” F. A. Gevaert, too, is silent on the topic in the first of
his two treatises (1863), though the later volume’s exposition of the enharmonic
glissando (1885) adds considerable depth as compared to Berlioz, explicitly enu-
merating the means of producing not only the three diminished-seventh chords,
but also five dominant-seventh chords, five minor-seventh chords, and five half-
diminished seventh chords.31 Even Parish-Alvars himself mentioned only the
diminished-seventh glissando in his unfinished harp method.32 The failure of
these and other writers to broach pentatonic or added-sixth harmonies surely
reflects more the inadequacy of contemporary theory to document these struc-
tures than it does the rarity of these glissandi in practice.33 It also seems likely
that harp pentatonicism was performed more often than it was published. As
Bochsa and Berlioz implied, the chordal glissando furnished a technically trivial
means of producing a dazzling effect. Thus, any harpist inclined toward improv-
isation would have no doubt reckoned such a device an essential crowd-pleaser.34
It is equally difficult to ascertain the relationship between harp pentatonicism
and nineteenth-century pentatonicism more generally, but I think it likely that
pianist-composers such as Liszt were influenced by their now-forgotten harpist
contemporaries. In any case, more or less concurrently with the development of
the harp’s pentatonic glissando, composers began to explore added-sixth and
pentatonic flourishes for the piano as well. The piano, of course, has nothing of
the harp’s capacity to rectify chordal gaps; rather, scalar bravado requires a vir-
tuosity that is more than mere illusion. For this reason too, pianistic cascades
remain somewhat closer to the realm of melody, compared to the sonorous opu-
lence of the true glissando. Thalberg’s frequent and flamboyant arpeggio pas-
sages are occasionally enlivened by added notes (ex. 4.9), a circumstantial
pentatonicism found also in Chopin and, more extensively, in Liszt. (See
P389–P412.) These arpeggios faithfully reflect scale-degree function, whereas
Parish-Alvars’ glissandi interpret the structures more harmonically.
The black-key piano glissando, of course, gives the pianist the closest thing to
the harpist’s “big bag.” We have seen an incipient version in the fingered pas-
sagework of Chopin’s “black-key etude” (P394 cited earlier; see also P413); the
true glissando is far from trivial to execute but has been prescribed by several
composers (ex. 4.10). (See also P415, P416.)
8va loco
cresc.
Example 4.9 (⫽P388). Thalberg, Nocturne, op. 16 #1 (1836), mm. 34–35.

❧
8va
glissando
8va
Example 4.10 (⫽P414). Debussy, “Feux d’artifice,” from Préludes, book 2 #12
(1913), mm. 17–18.
3. From Sound to Signification
Coloristic pentatonicism represents an important innovation in nineteenth-cen-

tury harmonic practice. Still, meaning is not so easily excluded from our discus-
sion, and mention must be made of the pentatonic harp glissando’s adoption in
film music: no doubt by virtue of both the exotic and religious connotations of
pentatonicism, pentatonic glissandi have come to serve as a sign of suspended
reality, marking “flashback” or “dream” sequences. The convention has assumed
the status of cliché and even the stuff of parody. At the time of this writing, for
instance, the program “Car Talk” on National Public Radio (NPR) has been
employing the device in a tongue-and-cheek manner, consistent with the show’s
self-conscious flippancy. In a segment called “Stump the Chumps,” the resident
automobile gurus are put to the test by revisiting their diagnoses from a prior
week; for the listeners’ sake, these deliberations are recalled as a flashback,
framed by pentatonic glissandi. I asked NPR composer B. J. Leiderman about his
choice of this sound effect for the segment.
The harp gliss was simply performed on my electronic keyboard (set to a harp sample)
by glissing up and down the black keys while holding the sustain pedal. I’d be interested
to hear what you’ve dug up about the history of the harp gliss, as my only refer-
ence . . . is from cartoons and film[:] anytime there is a “dream sequence,” there seems
to be that mandatory gliss.35
Chapter Five
Debussy and the Pentatonic Tradition

The nineteenth-century harp pentatonic (leaving aside its more recent incarna-
tions) and its analogue in piano music are exceptional among the diverse reper-
toire considered thus far for their ostensible non-signification. The explorations
in consonance that were pioneered by Parish-Alvars anticipated a late-century
aesthetic concern with sheer sonorous beauty, one distinctive aspect of the pen-
tatonic style of the Impressionists. At the same time, programmatic music was
also of great concern to these composers, who inherited the traditions of pen-
tatonic signification outlined in part 2 of this book. Moreover, for all their com-
positional daring, the Impressionists wrote tonal music after all and hence
partook of a certain musical tradition as well, including the style-history outlined
in part 1 of this book. I would like to revisit these traditions in the context of
Impressionism, before exploring Debussy’s more radical practices.
A. The Tradition of Signification
The rustic theme of Debussy’s early suite, Printemps (ex. 5.1), is straightforward,
self-contained, and classical in its melodic style, resembling the plainest exam-
ples of nineteenth-century pentatonicism. Many other examples could be given,
from the tetratonic “Alleluias” concluding Le Martyre de Saint Sébastien (religious
pentatonic), to the pentatonic invocation to Pan of Six Épigraphes antiques (prim-
itive pentatonic), to the extraordinary pentatonicism of Pagodes (exotic penta-
tonic), of which a detailed analysis will be given below. Debussy, that is,
continued to employ the same pastoral, exotic, and religious pentatonicism as
his predecessors. And Debussy was not alone in this; pentatonic primitivism and
exoticism in Ravel have been mentioned in chapter 2.
Très modéré
Example 5.1. Debussy, Printemps (1887), i, mm. 1–5.

❧
debussy and the pentatonic tradition 159
There is no question, however, that many of these later examples exhibit a

qualitatively more imaginative handling of pentatonic material. The “Lever du
jour” from Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloé, for instance, employs an idyllic pastoral penta-
tonicism (complete with pentatonic birdcall—see P141), but one deftly manip-
ulated in the service of a singular programmatic effect: the depiction of a
sunrise. Ravel poetically captures the paradoxical drama of this daily occurrence
through the “resolution” of a G-pentatonic set to a D-pentatonic set (ex. 5.2).
The moment is astonishing—musically, the culmination of a large, prolonged
crescendo and a harmonic release by means of a plagal cadence—but at the same
time subtle, understated, and ill-defined, even anticlimactic—the harmonic res-
olution in question entails no fewer than four common tones and a pedal bass
that further softens the voice leading. (Incidentally, those common tones are
especially obvious in the harps’ pentatonic glissandi, not shown here.) This
unique programmatic task profited from an earnest and original engagement
with the pure structure of a pentatonic “sound-world.”
Nevertheless, Debussy’s and Ravel’s copious pentatonic usage in music of all
sorts calls into question the primacy of program: regardless of signification, pen-
tatonicism clearly fascinated these composers as a pure musical resource. Some
of the fruits of that fascination will concern the rest of this chapter, and Debussy,
doubtless the most famous pentatonicist, will be its main focus. I hope to clarify
D maj: IV64 (pentatonic)
I (pentatonic)
Example 5.2. Ravel, Daphnis et Chloé (1912), “Lever du jour,” 1 before reh. 157.
160 ❧ debussy and the pentatonic tradition
Debussy’s place in pentatonic history, demonstrating both commonalities with

and distinctions from the approaches of his predecessors.
B. The Tradition of Non-Classical 6
Debussy is rightly considered a preeminent musical innovator and one of the most
decisive influences on twentieth-century musical styles. His pentatonic practice
certainly ranks among the important components of his musical language. This
practice, while at times radical, nevertheless also participates in a dialogue with the
more general nineteenth-century tendency described in chapter 1: a resourceful
preoccupation with 6 (and subdominant harmony) at the expense of 7 (and dom-
inant harmony), epitomized by the “non-classical 6” of the plagal leading tone.
1. La Fille aux cheveux de lin
Debussy’s prelude La Fille aux cheveux de lin certainly minimizes the role of the
leading tone. On the other hand, the great importance assumed by 6 in the piece
is matched by a notable ambivalence in its treatment, an ambivalence foreshad-
owed by the initial motive, a minor-seventh arpeggio suggesting both G major
and E (Aeolian) minor. In the context of G (which shortly emerges as the unam-
biguous tonic), the arpeggio extends from 5 down to 6 and back again; in this way
it emphasizes those two degrees but obscures their conventional adjacency rela-
tionship by fracturing a major second into a minor seventh (ex. 5.3). The theme
confirms its tonality with a plagal leading tone, and the rest of the piece is punc-
tuated with additional 6–8 cadences in several varieties (ex. 5.4): conventional pla-
gal (IV–I), “mixed” dominant-plagal (V11 –I), deceptive plagal (IV–vi), and others.
In each instance, however, the cadential melody continues by retreating down the
tetrachord from 8 to 5 (with the exception of measures 18–21, to be discussed
Très calme et doucement expressif
sans rigueur
Example 5.3. Debussy, “La Fille aux cheveux de lin,” from Préludes, book 1 #8
(1910), beginning.
3 12
15
(très peu)
18
30
35
perdendosi
Example 5.4. Debussy, “La Fille aux cheveux de lin,” cadences.

below). Classical and non-classical 6 thus mingle, but in both cases the melodic
motion disavows the convention of true leading-tone ascent.
At the same time, a simple audit of the melodic peaks in the piece reveals a
structural soprano that ascends in consistently pentatonic motifs, driven locally
by plagal leading tones (ex. 5.5). The piece’s climax in measure 21 (at mf, the
dynamic pinnacle of this serene prelude) represents a crisis in this ascent. This
jarring C-major triad grows out of a 6–8 cadence in E major and its three sub-
sequent repetitions—first in the original tenor register, then an octave higher,
and finally, though abortively, an octave higher still, in the register of the struc-
tural soprano (ex. 5.6). That last, feigned repetition breaks with its model
G : I (VI ) IV VI IV I ii I
m. 1 6 8 12 13 15 16 18 21 28 35 36
Example 5.5. Debussy, “La Fille aux cheveux de lin,” reduction.
Un peu animé
! 3
cédez
3
Example 5.6. Debussy, “La Fille aux cheveux de lin,” climax and retransition
(mm. 19–24).
❧
precisely at the moment of cadence, skipping 6 altogether and leaping instead

from 5 to 8; in so doing, it avoids what would have been the first chromatic intru-
sion into the structural line (c) and hence reverses the tonal trajectory of the
piece in preparation for the recapitulation. Moreover, the requisite post-cadential
descent also skips this note, using instead the gapped motif e–d–b. Pivotally,
the sudden insertion of a C-major triad at this moment turns 1 in the key of VI
into 6 in the key of I. The curious neglect of melodic c, and its sublimation
harmonically into c, function to destabilize the plagal leading tone of the sub-
mediant (6/VI), just as a classical retransition destabilizes the classical leading
tone of the dominant (7/V)—in both cases global scale degree 4. (Further play
between the raised and natural form of 6 ensues in the inner voices in measures
22–23.)
To this point, the structural line has outlined a span of a ninth from 5 up to
6—that is, a reversal of the opening motive’s distinctive boundary tones.
Whereas 5–6 existed just beyond the upper and lower bounds of the opening
motive, it exists comfortably within the ninth in question, once at either
extreme. This neighbor motion was in fact instantiated in the lower portion of
the structural line (m. 6); the higher 6, which was so dramatically highlighted at
the piece’s climax, soon connects with 5 in a final, octave-transposed statement
of the theme (m. 28), creating a satisfying parallelism and invoking a resump-
tion of classical behavior. From a more explicitly Schenkerian perspective, the
piece to m. 28 represents an interruption structure elaborated by a large-scale
transfer of register (again, see reduction, ex. 5.5). The final cadence of the
piece, then, consummates this (pentatonic) interruption, extending the struc-
tural line to its highest point and featuring 6–8 in both melody and bass, ii64–I
(ex. 5.7). The bare octave on 5 that follows as a seeming afterthought again stub-
bornly challenges melodic closure and further indicates Debussy’s idiosyncratic
construal of 6 as a deeply conflicted degree. Nineteenth-century composers’
long-sought emancipation of 6, though championed here by Debussy, is also
reconsidered and reinterpreted in the interest of tempering melodic directed-
ness. In a strange way, the pendulum has swung.
perdendosi
Example 5.7. Debussy, “La Fille aux cheveux de lin,” end.

2. La Mer
In La Fille aux cheveux de lin, Debussy deploys 6 with uncommon imagination and
with a commitment to long-range design. His La Mer, though subtitled “sym-
phonic sketches,” likewise contains details involving the skillful and far-reaching
regulation of the submediant, particularly at the ends of its three movements. If
the first movement opens with an unremarkable 6—the modest 5–6 ostinato
that comprises the initial melodic idea—the movement ends by showcasing this
degree through an astounding sleight of hand (ex. 5.8). The final measures’
lumbering alternation between I and vi seems to set up a straightforward (if non-
classical) tonal polarity, but the culminating chord is actually a combination
of the two, Iadd6. In the end, 6 is neither resolved nor retained (as happens,
retenu
a tempo
ww., str.
brass, timp.
Example 5.8. Debussy, La Mer (1905), i (“De l’aube à midi sur la mer”), end.
❧
memorably, in Mahler’s “Der Abschied,” ex. 1.18), but simply dissolves by means
of a brazen feat of orchestration. The major triad that is left makes a slightly
unconvincing ending, and in any case can scarcely be heard as an arrival per se.
The second movement ends with a superimposition of weakly competing keys.
The tonic E is suggested by the cadential bass leap b–e into the final section (m.
245), which accompanies the resolution of a whole-tone set (and its altered
dominant-seventh subset) into a long-sustained Eadd6 chord. On the other hand,
two subsequent melodic figures suggest B as tonic, if only by implication: the pic-
colo’s diatonic line and the harp’s pentatonic gesture both break off in the
course of their would-be cadential ascents, at 7 of B (d–e–f–g–a) and at 6 of
B (c–d–f–g), respectively (ex. 5.9). The opposition between the two tonics
B: ?
3
Picc. Hp. B: ?
Tpt.
3
8va
Str.
E: I add 6
Example 5.9. Debussy, La Mer, ii (“Jeux de vagues”), mm. 249–254.
Vn.
B: E:
3
Hp. Fl.
Glock.
Example 5.10. Debussy, La Mer, ii (“Jeux de vagues”), end.

comes to a head with the enigmatic melodic fragments of the final measures (ex.
5.10). Measure 258 is the crucial convergence of three events, which, ingen-
iously, attain and then swiftly annul melodic closure: (1) the high b in the vio-
lins seems to resolve the harps’ dangling g pentatonically, as 6–8 of B; (2)
simultaneously, however, the flutes, in imitation of the harp, land on g and sus-
tain it until the end; (3) the glockenspiel, which, like the violins offered a down-
beat b and hence a mild endorsement of tonic B, continue to c—that is, the
same 6 of E that was highlighted in the previous (apparently tonic) added-sixth
chords. In short, the moment compels the listener to consider two different
notes as unresolved submediants.1
These two pitch-classes connect with the tonality of La Mer as a whole, which,
judging from the endings of the outer movements, can roughly be considered
D major: d (⫽c) and a (⫽g) are 1 and 5 of D. More significantly, the melt-
ing together of E-pentatonic and B-pentatonic recalls the opposition, and then
melting together, of I and vi at the end of the first movement. The third move-
ment, on the other hand, does finally achieve a forceful resolution in its struc-
tural cadence (ex. 5.11): the majestic vi–I not only serves as a triumphant
Picardy sixth in response to the equivocating motif that pervades the movement,
6–5–6–5 (ex. 5.12), but also recalls, and decisively settles, the elusive close of
the first movement. While La Fille involved a constant equivocation between clas-
sical and non-classical resolutions of 6, the dramatic impact of La Mer surely
3 3
3
vi I
Example 5.11. Debussy, La Mer, iii (“Dialogue du vent et de la mer”), mm.

266–270.
3 3 3
Example 5.12. Debussy, La Mer, iii (“Dialogue du vent et de la mer”), mm.

254–256.
❧
depends in part on how it teasingly reserves a straightforward non-classical res-

olution until the end of a multi-movement work.
C. Beyond the Pentatonic Tradition:

Debussy and the Twilight of Tonality
These discussions have concerned Debussy’s affinity for the contrapuntal poten-
tial and the distinctive sound of the submediant within major-minor tonality.
This affinity was shared by many nineteenth-century composers and, as I have
maintained throughout this book, relates integrally to the story of pentatonicism
per se. But beyond this, Debussy certainly explored and exploited the musical
possibilities inherent in the pentatonic scale itself, no less than he did those of
other “exotic,” “archaic,” and “synthetic” scales.
1. The Scalar Craftsman
I will briefly mention a number of such possibilities. As described in the intro-

duction, the pentatonic scale contains the “f to f property,” which facilitates
mutations between pentatonic scales a fifth apart (as occured in Ravel’s “Lever
du jour,” discussed earlier).2 On a more general level, this property emerges
at the intersection of the pentatonic and the diatonic, since the major scale
can be constructed from the pentatonic scales of I, IV, and V; David Kopp has
shown how just such a derivation motivates the harmonic design of Debussy’s
Les Collines d’Anacapri.3 Above all, the harmonic flexibility and modal ambigu-
ity of pentatonicism (and infrapentatonicism) must have appealed to Debussy;
as instantiated in Pagodes (see below), pentatonic textures lacking an assertive
bass can easily dissolve into harmonic obscurity. It is for this reason also that
subsets of the pentatonic scale occupied Debussy perhaps even more than the
full five-note set itself. Furthermore, one such subset, set-class [025], as well as
the related [0257], can generate the pentatonic scale through transposition by
fourth/fifth, an abstract combinatorial property that Debussy often makes
quite audible (ex. 5.13; see also La Mer, ex. 5.8 above, antepenultimate
measure).
Pentatonicism’s potential combinations and interactions, notably, are not con-
fined to such diatonic contexts. It is with Debussy that the opposition assumed
throughout this book between pentatonic and chromatic finds both its clearest
expression and its occasional disintegration. Indeed, the various structural
relationships among Debussy’s favorite scales provided rich opportunities for
this sonic craftsman.
As a configuration of three major seconds divided between two groups (1–2–3
and 5–6), the pentatonic scale offers an obvious interface with a rather different
scale, the whole-tone. In particular, any given pentatonic scale will share three
pentatonic (= [02479])
pentatonic (= 2 x [0257])
3
3
Example 5.13. Debussy, Khamma (1912), ii, “Première danse,” mm. 3–6.
pentatonic
whole-tone (c)
whole-tone (c )
Example 5.14. Common tones between pentatonic and whole-tone scales.
notes with one brand of whole-tone scale and two notes with the other (ex.
5.14). Debussy’s prelude “Voiles,” for instance, uses the motive a–b–a–f as a
pivot from a whole-tone to a G-pentatonic collection and uses those same
pitches again as a pivot back (ex. 5.15). Debussy’s enthusiasm for the two scales
may relate to the rough congruence of each with the slendro tuning of the
Javanese music Debussy so admired: a five-tone scale like Debussy’s pentatonic,
slendro nevertheless employs equal spacing, like Debussy’s whole-tone.4
A different set of commonalities exists between the pentatonic and octa-
tonic scales: an octatonic scale will contain four major added-sixth chords sep-
arated by minor thirds and can be partitioned, as it happens, into two such
chords separated by a tritone. This fact is applied in the final section of
Debussy’s “Rondes de printemps” (from Images). The sprightly B-pentatonic
dance that begins this section contrasts starkly with the ponderous octatonic
(b–c–d–d–e–f–g–a) phrase that preceded it (ex. 5.16a). Nevertheless, the
❧
très souple
serrez cédez
b
dim. molto
3
3 3
8va
En animant
(rapide)
cresc. molto
Example 5.15. Debussy, Voiles (1909). (a) mm. 22–24; (b) mm. 40–43.
tonal shift between these two sections is impelled by their common bass pedal
and their four shared notes, b–d–f–g—in fact, this added-sixth chord is the
very set that opens the pentatonic passage (ex. 5.16b). Moreover, the chief
melodic cell of the octatonic passage, a–c–d, prefigures the melodic ostinato
of the pentatonic passage, which relates as a transposed retrograde, g–f–d;
the accompanying bass ostinato further elaborates this relationship through
another form of the cell, the transposed retrograde inversion f–g–b. Those
two motives, g–f–d and f–g–b, balance within the added-sixth set across its
axis of reflective symmetry (ex. 5.16c).
A precarious confluence of pentatonic, whole-tone, and octatonic writing
occurs elsewhere in “Rondes.” The ethereal G-pentatonic chord struck in meas-
ure 60 supports an octatonic English horn melody by virtue of the two scales’
four common tones,5 and this chord then proceeds in parallel motion through
F-pentatonic to D-pentatonic (ex. 5.17). The latter goal is perhaps motivated by
the capacity of Gadd6 and Dadd6 as partitions of the octatonic scale in question.
In any event, the motion is facilitated by a descending whole-tone scale which
voices the 3–2–1 of G-, F-, and D-pentatonic, in nested succession.
3
Au mouvement
3 3 3 expressif, marqué
a
cresc. poco a poco
b octatonic pentatonic
Example 5.16. Debussy, Images pour orchestre (1909), “Rondes de printemps,” mm. 161–63, with analysis of pitch content.
❧
Whole-tone (Harp)
Octatonic (English Horn)
Hp. 2
2
2
EHn.
più
G F D
pentatonic pentatonic pentatonic
G add 6
F
Octatonic D add 6 Whole-tone G D

(English Horn) (Harp)
Example 5.17. Debussy, Images pour orchestre, “Rondes de printemps,”

mm. 60–62, with analysis of pitch content.
2. Radical Pentatonicism: Pagodes
The examples discussed so far have incorporated pentatonic elements with flu-
idity and imagination. In a way, Debussy’s non-dogmatic usage actually repre-
sents a more earnest and thoroughgoing commitment to these novel
compositional alternatives, as compared to the strict, unadulterated pentatoni-
cism of Vogler (Pente chordium, P2) or Liszt (e.g., the coda to Sposalizio, P360). In
some exceptional situations, though, Debussy’s ambitious pentatonicism distin-
guishes itself not only in its refinement and nuance but in its sustained use and
its utter suffusion of textures. One of Debussy’s most famous pentatonic efforts,
Pagodes, is such a work, exemplary for its subtle, atmospheric—in a word,
Impressionistic—use of pentatonicism. David Kopp has detailed the almost min-
imalistic shifts of pitch-content throughout the piece, gradual additions to and
deletions from a pervasive B-pentatonic scale.6 My analysis here (which shares
much with Kopp’s) further emphasizes these shifting pitch-sets by observing how
Debussy’s precise melodic and textural decisions undermine even the weak
tonality of major-pentatonicism.
The pentatonicism of the opening texture (ex. 5.18) is divided between the
bass pedal tone (1) and the tetratonic (2–3–5–6) melodic motive. The melody,
that is, not only lacks the implicative forces of 4 and 7, but also lacks the most
tonal portion of the pentatonic scale, 1–2–3. In particular, it lacks the repose of
the tonic, however conspicuously the latter is provided by the accompaniment.
This tetrachord (set-class [0257]), is a favorite infrapentatonic resource of
Debussy’s, one that avoids the sweetness and triadic-tonal associations of the
major third but instead features the austere intervals of the second and fourth.
Beneath this repeating tetratonic theme, the stepwise countermelody (b) of
measures 7–10 at first appears to offer some measure of tonal normalcy, provid-
ing the missing 1 as well as 7, but diatonicism is destined to be an anomaly in
this piece (ex. 5.19). Indeed, a fully pentatonic theme (c) soon emerges in meas-
ure 11, and as it does, the bass makes its first move away from the tonic, to a
submediant pedal. The contrasting material at measure 15 (d) presents an
Modérément animé
2
8va
délicatement et presque sans nuances
3 (a)
3
rit.
8va
a tempo
5
3
rit.
Example 5.18. Debussy, Pagodes (1903), mm. 1–6.

8va
(b) a tempo
7
3
rit.
8va
a tempo
9
3 3
3 3 3
11 (c)
2
3 3
3
14 (d)
3 3 3 3
16
Example 5.19. Debussy, Pagodes, mm. 7–18.

Animez un peu
19
21
poco cresc.
Toujours animé
23 3 3
3
3 3 3
3
3 3
3
25 3 3
3
3 3 3
3
3 3
3
understated scalar shift to the pentatonic scale of V or, equivalently, iii—the pre-
cise harmonic identity is obscured by inner-voice chromaticism and the disap-
pearance of the bass.
When the fully pentatonic theme (c) returns (mm. 19–22), it is accompanied
by a descending bass line whose retransitional function depends ultimately
upon an illusion: it conveys an increased harmonic rhythm even as the
chameleon-like versatility of the pentatonic upper voices precludes a straight-
forward sense of harmonic identity or progression (ex. 5.20). The varied return
❧
of the main theme (m. 23) at first appears to offer a pentatonically “complete”
rendition of the tetratonic material, as all five tones are present in the upper
voices. However, a closer look reveals a juxta- and super-imposition of two inter-
vallically identical tetratonic sets (2–3–5–6 and 1–2–5–6), a result of the canonic
treatment of the theme; thus, within each phrase, each individual voice evades
the pentatonic scale, in favor of a less tonal subset.
The codetta to the first main section (mm. 27–30) exposes a new tetratonic
theme (e) accompanied above by familiar Debussian “organum” (ex. 5.21). This
tetratonic collection (2–3–5–6, as in the opening theme) proves peculiarly apt
for this polyphonic device, as the resulting counterpoint in parallel “thirds” (i.e.,
2/5, 3/6, 5/2, and 6/3) contains only perfect intervals; a fully pentatonic
organum of this sort would contain a single major third (1/3) beside its four
perfect fourths (2/5, 3/6, 5/1, and 6/2), a perhaps overly differentiated inter-
val structure for Debussy’s purposes. (It is precisely the differentiation of inter-
vals in a scale that contributes the tonal principle of “position-finding.”7)
Compare Ravel’s opulent pentatonic organum cited above (ex. 5.2).
The e in measure 33 (ex. 5.22) renders a curious effect (f), one that capitalizes
on the pentatonic circumstances, for it represents the chromaticization of a scale
degree not yet heard melodically (both e and e have occurred in the lower
parts). At the same time, it appears alongside the pitches of the home pentatonic
revenez au 1 Tempo
27
3 3
3
3
(e)
Sans lenteur
33 (f)

dans une sonorité plus claire

37
(g)
retenu Tempo 1
52
scale, forming an unprecedented melodic tritone with the crucial incipit d–c–b,
the very segment of the home pentatonic scale that has not sounded all these
thirty-some measures (with the exception of its appearance in the diatonic b).
Nevertheless, both of these new developments prove short-lived when the main
theme returns as figuration over yet another tetratonic/pentatonic melody in
measure 37 (g), again with no clearly projected tonal center (ex. 5.23). This
theme begins as if a transposed version of c (a transposition that does not trans-
gress the original pentatonic boundaries of the theme) and otherwise vaguely
resembles prior material, with its simple declamatory rhythms and octave voic-
ings. Debussy, that is, has not endeavored to distinguish these pentatonic frag-
ments, which by now have acquired the quality of caprice, revealing their essential
musical emptiness beyond their common scalar identity. A forceful restatement of
g and a return of theme f precedes the recapitulation, measure 53, which is elided
with f’s concluding d–c–b (here, 3–2–1), thus producing at this critical juncture
a fleeting hint of a straightforward, tonal pentatonicism (ex. 5.24).
The recapitulation proceeds as before (in abridged form) until the statement
of g in measure 73, which now retains the c–d neighbor ostinato of the pre-
ceding measures (ex. 5.25). This ostinato had accompanied the chromatic/pen-
tatonic material of d, associated with the pentatonic scale of V; there, the
congruence of the ostinato’s pitches with the pentatonic scales of both I and V
Animez un peu
68
70
cresc. molto
72
74
76
toujours

8va
78
dim.
(8va)
79
dim.
1 Tempo
80 (8va) 8va
5 5 5 5
81 8va 8va
5 5 5 5
had mediated the transition from the one scale to the other (mm. 18–19,
repeated in 68–69). These pitches serve the same function here, with the intro-
duction of dominant pentatonic figuration in measure 78 (ex. 5.26); following
prior practice, this figuration is fragmented into two pitch-class-set-equivalent
tetrachords, 2–5–6–7 and 3–5–6–7 (set-class [0247]). Unlike all prior pentatonic
material, however, these tetrachords both contain the major-third trichord
[024] (here, 7–6–5, or local 3–2–1) and hence stand to project harmonic func-
tion more strongly; on the other hand, and again typically, this opportunity for
harmonic clarity is defeated by the sudden absence of a bass note.
❧
In measure 80, this dominant-pentatonic figuration meets a final restatement

of the opening material, that is, a tonic bass note with the remaining tetrachord
of the home pentatonic scale in the melody (ex. 5.26). Even more than the osti-
nato, this tetrachord is a melodic switch-hitter, containing precisely those four
notes common to both the tonic and dominant pentatonic: it lacks the root of
the former (1) and the third of the latter (7). The recapitulation of diatonic b (m.
84) takes on a slightly different meaning this time, then, as its (tonic-oriented)
trichord 3–2–1 seems to answer the 7–6–5 of the figuration, while its sustained 7
seems to endorse the dominant. In place of c’s recapitulation is its pentatonic
stand-in, g, whose appearance (m. 88) occasions the transformation of the con-
tinuing dominant pentatonic figuration into the familiar tetratonic set 2–3–5–6:
7 simply and unceremoniously disappears while its four surviving comrades
effortlessly assimilate into the home pentatonic (ex. 5.27). The bass now lingers
87 8va 8va
5 5 5 5
88
3 3 3 3
più
89
3 3 3 3

Figure 5.1. Summary analysis of Debussy’s Pagodes.
❧
retenu
97
3 3 3 3 (laissez vibrer)
aussi que possible
Example 5.28. Debussy, Pagodes, end.
on 2, its eventual lone descent to 1 in measure 95 the only sign of harmonic final-
ity amidst the persistent figuration, which undercuts the progression through its
assiduous retention of 2. The piece’s closure consists mainly in the simple cessation
of motion and the indication laissez vibrer, a stillness that quietly invites the lis-
tener at last to behold the home pentatonic set as one complete entity, no longer
endlessly fragmented, manipulated, and given unstable or ambiguous harmonic
support (ex. 5.28). (A summary analysis is given in figure 5.1.)
***
In chapter 1, I argued that Dvo¤rák’s extreme pentatonic melodic style called into
question certain assumptions of common-practice tonality. In the end, though,
his and others’ extensions of scalar practice, while melodically and harmonically
novel, left the more salient aspects of tonality intact: namely, the priority of the
triad and the essentially dramatic use of harmonic progression and contrast.
Dvo¤rák’s pentatonicism represents a tonally viable, ultimately triadic style corre-
sponding to that of certain conservative twentieth-century composers like
Copland and Vaughan Williams. In contrast, the pentatonicism of Debussy’s
Pagodes (written the year before Dvo¤rák’s death) exists in a sort of dim, pre-tonal
world, in which distinctions between consonance and dissonance, between a
harmony and its successor, are projected so weakly as to preclude any drama of
the sort normally associated with tonality in the strict sense. The idealism of
Dvo¤rák becomes the nihilism of Debussy.
Afterword
Beyond Debussy
Debussy was not alone in relishing the syntactic-structural resources of penta-
tonicism “en soi.” The pentatonicism of Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde, long asso-
ciated with the work’s Chinese-inspired texts, has been shown to involve
far-reaching structural functions.1 Bartók and Kodály have been credited with
pioneering an “organic synthesis of the music of East and West,” namely, the
melodic thinking of pentatonicism and the harmonic thinking of the “acoustic
scale”;2 Bartók himself referred to the pentatonic scale as “the most suitable anti-
dote for the hyperchromaticism of Wagner and his followers,” even as he also
instructed that “the simpler the melody the more complex and strange may be
the harmonization.”3 Pentatonic applications to post-tonal vocabularies have
likewise been noted in the music of Ives, Villa-Lobos, Milhaud, and Crumb.4
There is also clear evidence in twentieth-century music of the persistent influ-
ence of nineteenth-century signification—the exotic (exx. A.1, A.2), the
pastoral-primitive (exx. A.3–A.5), and the religious (ex. A.6). A distinctly twen-
tieth-century extension of this heritage is seen in the use of pentatonicism in
allusions to African American music, such as the faux spiritual of example A.7.
Today pentatonicism has become something of a commonplace for Western
listeners, owing chiefly to its ubiquity in various genres of popular music
(exx. A.8–A.12). Such popular music would seem to constitute the current
musical mainstream, and recording artists at the turn of the twenty-first century
find themselves in a position roughly analogous to that of musicians at the turn
of the nineteenth century: possessing a robust and cosmopolitan musical lan-
guage with broad appeal. Likewise, stylistic and conceptual incursions periodi-
cally enliven this music and its attending culture, in a manner reminiscent of
early Romanticism: from George Harrison’s sitar to Eric Clapton’s blues, from
the perennial reincarnations of “Latin rock” to the pop-marketed, best-selling
recordings of Benedictine chant. Despite these broad historical similarities,
however, the case of pentatonicism is altogether different in the two contexts:
Anglo-American pop-rock derives its pentatonicism largely from African sources
and frequently assumes a minor-mode form. Furthermore, in the present con-
text, pentatonicism is neither a signifier per se, nor a quaint vestige of prior styles,
but a vital fount of musical material. After all, pentatonicism suits well the terse,
riff-based melodic style that is conducive to improvisation, group composition,
and directness of communication—the hallmarks of popular music. Grounded
184 ❧ beyond debussy
in (more or less) conventional diatonic harmony, pop-rock pentatonicism actu-

ally achieves the opposite of Debussy’s ambiguity and expansiveness.
Just as tonal music in general continues to entertain and inspire a hundred
years after some proclaimed tonality exhausted, there is no reason to suppose
that composers, even in the twenty-first century, will deplete the possibilities of
pentatonicism. But should pop-rock composers ever grow tired of the blues-
based pentatonic scales that have served these genres for half a century, a strip-
ping down to a sub-pentatonic structure would seem unlikely. Five notes may be
a lower limit (or at least a significant threshold) for melodic interest and variety.
In this respect, the particular compositional circumstances of nineteenth-century
music seem to have been unique to that time.
8va
marcato
Example A.1. Stravinsky, Le Chant du rossignol (1917), #1, reh. 6.
3 3 3
3 3 3
Example A.2. Britten, Prince of the Pagodas (1956), Prelude, beginning.

Andante sostenuto Cadenza
sur la touche
senza misura
Example A.3. Vaughan Williams, The Lark Ascending (1914), beginning. (© 1925
Oxford University Press. Used by permission. All rights reserved.)
2
It has be come that time of eve ning when peo ple sit on their porch es,
rock ing gen tly and talk ing gen tly and watch ing the street and the
sempre legato
stand ing up in to their sphere of pos ses sion of the trees, of birds’ hung
espr.
ha vens, hang ars.
Example A.4. Barber, Knoxville: Summer of 1915 (1947). (© 1949 (Renewed)

by G. Schirmer, Inc. [ASCAP]. International Copyright Secured. All Rights
Reserved. Reprinted by Permission.)
But list en! a voice is near;
lontano, semplice
3 3
Great Pan him self low whis per ing through the reeds,
Example A.5. Argento, To Be Sung upon the Water (1972), #2, reh. 1.
Animez, mais très peu
un poco animando
Fl.
subito
Ob.
subito
Cl.
subito
Bsn.
Hn.
Vn. I
subito
Vn. II
subito
Va.
subito
Vc.
subito
Cb.
subito
Example A.6. Honegger, Pastorale d’été (1920), mm. 36–38.

Refrain (very slowly, with deep expression)
Ol’ man riv er, dat ol’ man riv er, He must know sump in’, but
molto legato
don’t say noth in’, He jus’ keeps roll in’, He keeps on roll in’ a long.
Example A.7. Jerome Kern, “Ol’ Man River” (1927), refrain. (© 1927 Universal-
Polygram International Publishing, Inc. Copyright Renewed. All Rights
Reserved. Used by Permission.)
Moderately
Verse:
G Em7 Em6 Am7 D7
The man who on ly lives for mak ing mon ey
G Em7 3 Am7 D7
lives a life that is n’t nec es sar i ly sun ny.
Example A.8. Gershwin, “Nice Work If You Can Get It” (1937), verse.
Slowly
I’ve got sun shine
on a cloud y day;
Example A.9. “Smokey” Robinson, “My Girl” (1964). (© 1964, 1972, 1973, 1977
[Renewed 1992, 2000, 2001, 2005] Jobete Music Co., Inc. All Rights Controlled
and Administered by EMI April Music Inc. All Rights Reserved. International
Copyright Secured. Used by Permission.)
Example A.10. Jimi Hendrix, “Purple Haze” (1967). (© 1967, 1980 by

Experience Hendrix, L.L.C. Copyright Renewed 1995. All Rights Controlled
and Administered by Experience Hendrix, L.L.C. All Rights Reserved.)
Am C/G F Fmaj7
Am C/G F Fmaj7
Am C/G F Fmaj7
Example A.11. Jimmy Page, “Stairway to Heaven” (1971), beginning of guitar solo.
Moderately
I met my old lov er on the street last night;
Example A.12. Paul Simon, “Still Crazy After All These Years” (1975).
Catalogue of
Pentatonic Examples
Preface to the Catalogue
This Catalogue illustrates the phenomenon of pentatonicism from the eight-
eenth century to Debussy. Its musical examples have been ordered according to
“P” number—identifiers that serve as cross-references from the text, where each
example has been discussed (or at least mentioned). Each of these examples is
cited in the book’s main Index, which provides page references to the examples’
every mention and appearance, whether in the text or in the Catalogue. In add-
ition, a Chronological Index of Catalogue Examples appears beginning on p. 197.
As was explained in the Introduction, “while the pentatonic scale is easily
defined, it will be useful to refer more generally to pentatonicism: a set of features
peculiar to the strict pentatonic system.” The casual reader who refers to the cat-
alogue without also reading the text will thus occasionally be surprised to find
examples on the periphery of the pentatonic style—for instance, the hexa-
chordal theme of P50 or the third dyads of P104. Such examples are included as
illustrations of particular musical influences relevant to the history and meaning
of pentatonicism and have been reproduced here when it would have been
impractical to do so in the course of the text.
Dates given in the example captions (whether in this catalogue or the text
itself), refer to composition whenever practical, and otherwise to publication (as
for all of Parish-Alvars’ works). In some cases, only rough dating estimates have
been possible.
Chronological Index of
Catalogue Examples
ca. 1700 Johann Christoph Pez, Concerto pastorale [P46]
1712 Handel, Il pastor fido [P40]
1719 Vivaldi, Violin Concerto in A major, “Il cucu,” RV 335 [P135]
1720s? Heinichen, Pastorale per la Notte della Nativitate Christi [P47]
1725 Vivaldi, La primavera [P133]
1728 Vivaldi, Flute Concerto in D major, “Il gardellino,” RV 428 [P134]
1741 Handel, L’Allegro, il penseroso, ed il moderato [P128]
1741 Handel, Messiah [P49]
1756 Leopold Mozart, Sinfonia di caccia [P55, P60]
1757 Handel, The Triumph of Time and Truth [P48]
1777 Michael Haydn, Missa Sancti Aloysii [P281]
1777 Michael Haydn, Missa Sancti Hieronymi [P282]
1778 Rosetti, Sinfonia pastoralis [P125]
1781 Haydn, Symphony #73, “La Chasse” [P53]
1785 Haydn, Symphony #88 [P173]
1785 Knecht, Le Portrait musical de la Nature [P131]
ca. 1790s Punto, Rondeau en chasse [P58]
1791 Grétry, Guillaume Tell [P67]
1791 Mozart, The Magic Flute [P50, P101]
1795 Haydn, Symphony #104 [P174]
1797 Beethoven, Deutsche, WoO 13 #5 [P182]
1798 Vogler, Pente chordium [P2]
1801 Haydn, Die Jahreszeitzen [P52, P82, P166]
1804 Lesueur, Ossian [P238]
1806 Beethoven, Écossaise, WoO 83 #1 [P184]
1806 Beethoven, String Quartet, op. 59 #2 [P43]
1806 Domenico Corri, The Travellers [P3]
1806 Méhul, Uthal [P78]
1808 Beethoven, Symphony #6 [P132, P159]
1809 Weber, Incidental music to Turandot [P4]
1816 Schubert, “Jägers Abendlied” [P85]
1816 Schubert, “Wiegenlied” [P105]
1819 Rossini, La donna del lago [P57]
1819 Schubert, “Trost” [P83]
198 ❧ chronological index of catalogue examples
1820s? Kalkbrenner, “Hymne des dix mille ans” [P5]

1822 Schubert, “Gott in der Natur” D. 757 [P200]
1822 Schubert, “Der Musensohn” [P86]
1823 Beethoven, Missa Solemnis [P322]
1823 Loewe, “Vogelgesang” [P136]
1823 Schubert, Die schöne Müllerin, “Des Baches Wiegenlied” [P118]
1824 Schubert, Ländler, D. 814 #1 [P171]
1824 Schubert, Ländler, D. 814 #4 [P172]
1825 Boieldieu, La Dame blanche [P80, P81, P218, P225, P239]
1825 Schubert, “Die junge Nonne” [P150]
1827 Schubert, “Frühlingslied,” D. 919 [P199]
1828 Berlioz, Waverley [P233]
1828 Chopin, Krakowiak [P242]
1828 Chopin, Rondo, op. 73 [P398]
1828 Schubert, Piano Trio in B major [P63]
1828 Schubert, Sonata in A major, D. 959 [P177]
1828 Schubert, Symphony #9 [P175]
1828 Schubert, Winterreise, “Frühlingstraum” [P41]; “Gute Nacht” [P191];
“Die Krähe” [P193]; “Der Lindenbaum” [P59]; “Mut!” [P194]; “Die
Post” [P192]; “Rückblick” [P84]
1829 Berlioz, Irlande, op. 2 #2, “Hélène” [P230, P231]; #7, “L’Origine de la
harpe” [P232]
1829 Chopin, 3 Écossaises, op. 72 #3, #1 [P185]; op. 72 #3, #2 [P186]; op. 72
#3, #3 [P187]
1829 Rossini, Guillaume Tell [P68, P70, P79]
1830 Franz Lachner, “Das Waldvöglein” [P87]
1830–32 Berlioz, Symphonie fantastique [P72, P292]
1831 Berlioz, Rob Roy [P226, P227]
1832 Chopin, Etude, op. 10 #5 [P394]
1832 Chopin, Nocturne, op. 9 #1 [P62]
1832 Chopin, Waltz, op. 18 [P176]
1833 Cherubini, Ali-Baba [P6]
1833 Chopin, Introduction and Rondo, op. 16 [P395]
1833 Loewe, “Die Oasis” [P16]
1834 Loewe, “Das Muttergottesbild im Teiche” [P161]
1834 Mendelssohn, “Jagdlied” [P88]
1834 Parish-Alvars, Tema con variazioni, WoO PA1 [P374]
1835 Chopin, Nocturne in C minor, op. 27 #1 [P305]
1835 Chopin, Waltz, op. 34 #1 [P183]
1836 David, “Aux Filles d’Égypte” [P19]
1836 Glinka, A Life for the Tsar [P248, P249, P250, P264]
1836 Liszt, Fantaisie romantique sur deux mélodies suisses [P54, P69]
1836 Thalberg, Nocturne, op. 16 #1 [P388]
1837 Berlioz, Requiem [P306, P307, P324]
1837 Chopin, Etude, op. 25 #5 [P396]
1838 Liszt, “Au Lac de Wallenstadt” [P202]
❧
chronological index of catalogue examples 199
1838 Liszt, Chapelle de Guillaume Tell [P299]

1838 Parish-Alvars, Fantasia, op. 35 [P372, P379]
1838–61 Liszt, Sposalizio [P301, P360]
1840 Liszt, Transcendental Etude #1 [P399]
1840 Loewe, “Die Mutter an der Wiege” [P113]
1840 Schumann, Liederkreis, op. 24, “Morgens steh’ ich auf” [P196]
1840 Schumann, “Der Nussbaum” [P158]
1840 Schumann, “Unter’m Fenster,” op. 34 #3 [P236]
1840 Thalberg, Fantasy on Oberon, op. 37 [P392]
1841 Chopin, Ballade in A major[P169]
1842 Chopin, Mazurka, op. 50 #3 [P45]
1842 Franck, Piano Trio in F minor, op. 1 #1 [P413]
1842 Liszt, Albumblatt in Walzerform [P190]
1842 Mendelssohn, “Scottish” Symphony [P217, P219]
1842 Parish-Alvars, Fantasia on Themes from Weber’s “Oberon,” op. 59 [P381]
1842 Thalberg, Andante Final de “Lucia di Lamermoor,” op. 43 [P390]
1842 Thalberg, Fantasy on Don Juan, op. 42 [P391]
1843 Chopin, Ballade in F minor [P170]
1843 Franz, “Schlummerlied” [P115, P119]
1843 Parish-Alvars, Grand Fantasia on Rossini’s “Moïse,” op. 58 [P375, P378,
P382]
1843 Parish-Alvars, Grande Fantaisie et Variations de Bravoure, op. 57 [P373]
1844 Chopin, Berceuse [P120]
1844 Gade, Symphony #1 [P77]
1844 Loewe, “Alpins Klage” [P221]
1844 Loewe, “Der Mohrenfürst auf der Messe” [P17]
1844 Parish-Alvars, La Danse des fées [P383]
ca. 1844 Massé, “Le Muletier de Calabre” [P90]
1845 David, “Éveillez-vous” [P92]
1845 David, “Le Pêcheur à sa nacelle” [P111]
1845 Liszt, “Es rufet Gott uns mahnend” [P351]
1845 Parish-Alvars, Scenes from My Youth, op. 75, “Gipsies March” [P380]
1845–74 Liszt, St. Cecilia [P311, P330, P347, P362]
1846 Gade, Comala [P51, P220]
1846 Parish-Alvars, The Farewell, op. 68 (⫽Romance #20) [P370]
1846 Parish-Alvars, Grand Study in Imitation of the Mandolin [P371, P384]
1846 Parish-Alvars, Serenade, op. 83 [P368, P369, P385]
1847 Loewe, “Lied der Königin Elisabeth” [P228]
1847 Schumann, “Das Hochlandmädchen,” op. 55 #1 [P235]
1848 Liszt, “Invocation” from Harmonies poétiques et religieuses [P367]
1848 Liszt, Mass in C minor [P278, P288]
1848 Schumann, Album für die Jugend [P127]
1848 Wagner, Lohengrin [P99, P315]
1849 Liszt, Ballade #1 [P402]
1849 Nicolai, Die lustigen Weiber von Windsor [P222]

1849 Schumann, “John Anderson,” op. 145 #4 [P234]
1850 Liszt, Consolation #3 [P404, P405]
1850 Parish-Alvars, Grand Fantasia on “I Capuleti e i Montecchi” by Bellini and
“Semiramide” by Rossini [P376, P377]
1850 Schumann, Symphony #3 [P160, P178]
1851 David, La Perle du Brésil [P106]
1851 Reyer, “À un Berceau” [P216]
1851–66 David, “Au Couvent” [P208]
1852 Gounod, “Les Naïades” [P98]
1852 Schumann, Incidental Music to Manfred [P65]
1853 Cornelius, “Wiegenlied” [P121]
1853 Gounod, Messe aux Orphéonistes [P298]
1853 Liszt, Ballade #2 (autograph ending) [P403]
1854 Massé, “La Chanson du printemps” [P143]
1854 Reyer, “Adieu Suzon” [P76]
1854 Wagner, Das Rheingold [P96]
1855 Gounod, St. Cecilia Mass [P280, P291, P297, P327, P353, P357]
1855 Liszt, “Églogue” [P204]
1855 Liszt, “Pastorale” [P203]
1855 Liszt, Les Préludes [P205]
1855 Liszt, Rigoletto (concert paraphrase) [P406, P407]
1855 Offenbach, Ba-Ta-Clan [P18]
1855 Saint-Saëns, “La Cloche” [P155]
1855 Saint-Saëns, Le Lever de la lune [P229]
1855 Saint-Saëns, “Viens” [P164]
1856 Bruckner, Ave Maria [P272]
1856 Cornelius, “Am Morgen” [P165]
1856 Cornelius, “Simeon” [P162]
1856 Cornelius, “Vorabend” [P100]
1856 Liszt, Dante Symphony [P287, P310]
1856 Saint-Saëns, Mass, op. 4 [P337]
1856 Wagner, Die Walküre [P344]
1858 Chipp, Twilight Fancies #2 [P167]; #3 [P211]
1858 Liszt, “Herr, wie lange” [P313, P334]
1858 Liszt, Missa solemnis [P314]
1858–81 Balakirev, Overture on Three Russian Themes [P259]
1859 Gounod, Faust [P328]
1859 Meyerbeer, Dinorah [P56, P71]
1859–65 Liszt, Missa Choralis [P273, P331, P332, P339, P340]
1859–77 Saint-Saëns, Samson et Dalila [P24]
1860 Brahms, “Gesang aus Fingal,” op. 17 #4 [P237]
1860 Liszt, “Die Himmel erzählen” [P352]
1860 Liszt, Les Morts [P345]
1860 Loewe, “Thomas der Reimer” [P148, P224]
1860s? Gounod, “Choral” [P154]
❧
1861 Brahms, “Darthulas Grabesgesang,” op. 42 #3 [P223]

1861 Liszt, Faust Symphony [P346, P358]
1861 Liszt, “Mein Gott” [P336]
1862 Chabrier, “Ronde gauloise” [P102]
1862 Cornelius, “Abendgefühl” [P109]
1862 David, Lalla-Roukh [P20, P21]
1862 Liszt, St. Elisabeth [P279, P289, P335, P341, P361, P363, P364]
1862 Thalberg, Fantasy on Il Trovatore, op. 77 [P389]
1863 Gounod, “Les Champs” [P97]
1864 Gounod, Mireille [P64, P74, P103]
1866 Bruckner, Mass in E minor [P276]
1866–72 Liszt, Christus [P326, P333, P348]
1867 Liszt, Adagio for organ [P323]
1868 Bizet, “Rêve de la bien aimée” [P142]
1868 Brahms, “Wiegenlied” [P104]
1868 Liszt, Requiem [P325, P329]
1868 Massenet, “Lève-toi” [P91]
1868 Thomas, Hamlet [P240]
1869 Balakirev, Islamey: Oriental Fantasy [P260]
1869 Brahms, Alto Rhapsody [P293]
1869 Brahms, Liebeslieder Waltzes, op. 52 #3, “O die Frauen” [P188]; #6 “Ein
kleiner, hübscher Vogel” [P144]; #13, “Vögelein durchrauscht die
Luft” [P129]; #15, “Nachtigall, sie singt so schön” [P124]
1869 Chabrier, “Ivresses!” [P180]
1869 Liszt, Hungarian Coronation Mass [P303, P350]
1869 Saint-Saëns, Marche Orient et Occident [P22]
1869 Tchaikovsky, Romeo and Juliet [P295]
1869 Wagner, Siegfried [P139]
1869–87 Borodin, Prince Igor [P243, P244]
1869–1902 Fauré, Pièces brèves, op. 84 #7, “Allégresse” [P408]
1870 Wagner, Siegfried-Idyll [P140]
1871 Bizet, Djamileh [P23]
1871 Brahms, Schicksalslied [P110, P294, P302]
1872 Massenet, “Bonne Nuit!” [P112]
1872 Saint-Saëns, La Princesse jaune [P8, P9, P10, P11, P12, P13, P14, P15]
1872 Tchaikovsky, Symphony #2 [P258]
1874 Brahms, “Der Abend” [P108]
1874 Brahms, Neues Liebeslieder, op. 65 #8, “Weiche Gräser” [P201]
1874 Liszt, Anima Christi [P277]
1874 Massé, “Berceuse” [P114]
1874 Massé, “Dans les Bois” [P126]
1874 Massé, “Eho!” [P89]
1874 Mussorgsky, Pictures at an Exhibition [P266]
1875 Fauré, Nocturne, op. 33 #2 [P409]
1875 Grieg, Peer Gynt Suite [P75]
1876 Liszt, Weihnachtsbaum [P42]
1877 Fauré, Requiem [P270, P275, P300, P338]
1877 Gounod, Messe brève in C major [P317]

1879 Bruckner, Os justi [P269]
1879 Liszt, Organ Mass [P309]
1879 Liszt, Ossa arida [P365]
1879 Liszt, Pater Noster [P312]
1879 Liszt, Via Crucis [P286]
1880 Chausson, “Les Papillons” [P138]
1880 Grieg, “Vaaren” (“Spring”) [P145]
1880 Puccini, Messa di Gloria [P321]
1881 Chabrier, Pièces pittoresques, “Menuet pompeux” [P179]
1881 Fauré, Messe basse [P320]
1881 Wagner, Parsifal [P153, P284, P343]
1882 Borodin, Symphony #1 [P247]
1882 Liszt, “Angélus! Prière aux anges gardiens” [P349]
1882 Liszt, Marche funèbre [P308]
1882 Liszt, Von der Wiege bis zum Grabe [P116]
1883 Chausson, “Réveil” [P130]
1883 Liszt, Am Grabe Richard Wagners [P342]
1883 Lully, Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme (arr. Weckerlin, 1883) [P1]
1883–96 Mahler, Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen [P195]
1884 Bruckner, Te Deum [P274, P356]
1884 Liszt, Eucharista [P285]
1884 Liszt, Matrimonium [P271]
1884 Liszt, “Ordo” from Septem Sacramenta [P366]
1884 Rimsky-Korsakov, Sinfonietta on Russian Themes [P262]
1885 Liszt, O Sacrum Convivium [P359]
1885 Liszt, Salve regina [P290]
1885 Reinecke, Harp Concerto [P386]
1885 Sullivan, The Mikado [P25, P26]
1886 Delibes, “Bonjour, Suzon!” [P207]
1886 Delibes, “Églogue” [P73]
1886 D’Indy, Symphony on a French Mountain Air [P241]
1886 Fauré, Barcarolle, op. 44 [P410]
1886 Saint-Saëns, The Carnival of the Animals, #13, “The Swan” [P137]
1887 Borodin, Symphony #2 [P245, P246]
1888 Brahms, Zigeunerlieder #3 “Wisst Ihr, wann mein Kindchen” [P95]; #5,
“Brauner Bursche führt zum Tanze” [P267]; #9, “Weit und breit”
[P268]
1888 Gounod, Messe solennelle #4 in G minor [P316]
1888 Mahler, Symphony #1 [P283]
1888 Rimsky-Korsakov, La Grande Pâque russe [P257, P387]
1888 Johann Strauss, Jr., Donauweibchen [P189]
1889 Chabrier, “Ballade des gros dindons” [P181]
1889 Chabrier, “Toutes les Fleurs” [P206]
1890 Hahn, “Paysage” [P94, P209]
1891 Fauré, “En Sourdine” [P123]
1891 Grieg, “Bell-Ringing” [P152]
❧
1892 Bruckner, Psalm 150 [P319]

1892 Hahn, “D’une Prison” [P156]
1892 Hahn, “L’Heure exquise” [P168]
1893 Dvo¤rák, Symphony #9 [P210]
1893 Gounod, Requiem [P318]
1893 Messager, Madame Chrysanthème [P7, P27, P28]
1893 Tchaikovsky, Symphony #6 [P251]
1894 Fauré, “Une Sainte en son auréole” [P354]
1895 Lyadov, Etude, op. 37 [P411]
1895 Lyadov, Mazurka, op. 38 [P261]
1896 Chausson, “Ballade” [P163]
1896 Rimsky-Korsakov, Sadko [P252, P253, P254, P255, P256, P263, P265]
1896 Saint-Saëns, Piano Concerto #5, “Egyptian” [P29]
1898 Ravel, Shéhérazade [P35]
ca. 1898 Schoenberg, “Ei, du Lütte” [P93]
1899 Mascagni, Iris [P30, P31, P32, P33]
1900 Mahler, Symphony #4 [P146, P212]
1900 Rachmaninoff, “The Lilacs” [P214]
1900 Rachmaninoff, “Melody” [P117]
1901 Mahler, “Ich bin der Welt” [P198]
1901 Mahler, “Um Mitternacht” [P149]
1901 Ravel, Jeux d’eau [P415]
1902 Mahler, Symphony #5 [P304]
1902 Rachmaninoff, Spring [P213]
1903 Cui, Prelude in A major, op. 64 #17 [P412]
1904 Mahler, Kindertotenlieder [P122]
1904 Nielsen, Sleep [P107]
1905 D’Indy, Jour d’été à la montagne [P147]
1905 Ravel, Miroirs, v, “La Vallée des cloches” [P157]
1906 Rachmaninoff, “Before My Window” [P215]
1906 Rachmaninoff, “Let Me Rest Here Alone” [P197]
1906 Suk, Asrael [P355]
1908 Ravel, Gaspard de la nuit [P416]
1911 Coleridge-Taylor, A Tale of Old Japan [P34]
1911 Ravel, Ma Mère l’oye [P36]
1912 Ravel, Daphnis et Chloé [P141]
1913 Debussy, “Feux d’artifice,” from Préludes, book 2 #12 [P414]
1913 Rachmaninoff, The Bells [P151]
1915 Richard Strauss, Eine Alpensinfonie [P61, P66]
1918 Puccini, Gianni Schicchi, “O mio babbino caro” [P296]
1925 Ravel, L’Enfant et les sortilèges [P37, P38]
1926 Puccini, Turandot [P39]
Catalogue of Pentatonic Examples
P1. Lully, Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme (arr. Weckerlin, 1883), IV/9, Turkish scene, 2nd
Entrée, m. 20.

206 ❧ catalogue of pentatonic examples
P2. Vogler, Pente chordium (1798), beginning. (From Georg Joseph Vogler: Pièces de
clavecin (1798); and Zwei und dreisig Präludien (1806), Madison, WI: A-R Editions, Inc.,
1986. Used with permission. All rights reserved.)
13
17
20
❧
catalogue of pentatonic examples 207
P2. (continued)
23
26
29
31
P3. Domenico Corri, The Travellers (1806), I/3, beginning.

❧
P4. Weber, Incidental music to Turandot (1809), mm. 19–31.
Vn. I
Vn. II
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
Vn. I
Vn. II
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
Vn. I
Vn. II
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
P5. Kalkbrenner, “Hymne des dix mille ans” (1820s?).
Moderato
Dix mille ans de bon heur, de gloire à l’Em pe reur,
hon neur, neuf fois hon neur! au dé fen seur des
Rois, à leur sa ge vain queur, Dix mille ans de bon heur!
de ses ay eux les â mes, du haut des Cieux,

❧
P5. (continued)
l’é clai rent de leurs pu res flam mes: hon neur, neuf fois hon
cresc.
neur! fils du Ciel! sois tou jours vain
queur.
P6. Cherubini, Ali-Baba (1833), #3, 11 from end.
P7. Messager, Madame Chrysanthème (1893), Prologue, Yves’ fantasy.
Allegretto
Pierre
Eh oui... c’est vrai!

Yves
Je me ma rie rai Aus si tôt ar ri vé là bas! . .

❧
P8. Saint-Saëns, La Princesse jaune (1872), overture, mm. 74–86.
Allegro giocoso
P9. Saint-Saëns, La Princesse jaune (1872), #5, mm. 19–30.
Dans la coulisse.
A na ta wa dô na sa
ï ma si ta! A na ta
dolce graziosamente
Sur l’eau claire et sans ri de Glis se mon ba teau
Il a le ha sard pour gui de; Moi je re gar de dans
l’eau Au des sus du flot tran
quil le Est le grand ciel ar gen té

❧
Kornelis
In do cile a man te, Tu m’o bé i ras
appassionato
P12. Saint-Saëns, La Princesse jaune (1872), between #5 and #6.
C’est ain si que ton i ma ge, O beau té pure à qui mon
a mour ap par tient, Com me le ciel, et l’a stre, et le nu age
Se re flé te en mon coeur, hum ble mi roir du tien!

P13. Saint-Saëns, La Princesse jaune (1872), between #5 and #6.
Mais non je ne trouve plus

Au front de l’impassible image
Les rayonnements d’amour entrevu—,
O Léna, sur ton doux visage.
Oui, le rêve est vaincu par la réalité.
Et je sens qu’elle n’est plus belle

Il manque à ses yeux l’étincelle O Léna que de ta beauté
L’éclair que tu leur as prêté. Je t’aime!
❧
Léna
Non!
Kornélis
Mé chan te en fant C’est toi que
Léna
Le Ja pon est char mant
Korn.
j’ai me
P15. Saint-Saëns, La Princesse jaune (1872), end.
cresc. stringendo
P16. Loewe, “Die Oasis” (1833), beginning.
Adagio
tranquillamente
dolce
P17. Loewe, “Der Mohrenfürst auf der Messe” (1844), mm. 17–21.
❧
P18. Offenbach, Ba-Ta-Clan (1855), Introduction, mm. 27–37.
Moderato
P19. David, “Aux Filles d’Égypte” (1836), secondary theme.

P20. David, Lalla-Roukh (1862), Overture, mm. 13–17.
Andantino
P21. David, Lalla-Roukh (1862), II/8, “Loin du bruit,” end.
a tempo
dim.
P22. Saint-Saëns, Marche Orient et Occident (1869), 3 before reh. 4.
Fl. I
Fl. II
Tri.
❧
P23. Bizet, Djamileh (1871), #10, Duet, m. 255.
Moderato
espressivo
mien! Ta
lè vre par fu mé e, Ta
P24. Saint-Saëns, Samson et Dalila (1859–77), I/6, Philistine chorus to the spring, end.
tou jours!
tou jours!
P25. Sullivan, The Mikado (1885), Overture, beginning.
Allegro
❧
P26. Sullivan, The Mikado (1885), Overture, third section.
P27. Messager, Madame Chrysanthème (1893), III/7, Danses, Allegro moderato.
Allegro moderato
cantabile
P28. Messager, Madame Chrysanthème (1893), III/7, Danses, Più vivo.
Più vivo
P29. Saint-Saëns, Piano Concerto #5, “Egyptian” (1896), ii, Poco più mosso after reh.
26.
8va
cantabile
(8va)
(8va)
(8va)
cresc.
❧
P29. (continued)
(8va)
(8va)
(8va)
dolce
P30. Mascagni, Iris (1899), Overture, “L’Aurora,” reh. 5.
Largo
calmo e sostenuto trattenuto a tempo
3
subito sostenendo
a poco
P31. Mascagni, Iris (1899), reh. 3.
rall. a tempo
3 3
en tro un ce spo di ro se.
dolce
3
3 3
3 3
3 3
❧
P32. Mascagni, Iris (1899), 1 after reh. 7.
(alzando le braccia verso il cielo)

Largo sostenuto
attaccando con slancio
Ma, Sol, tu vie ni

8va
rall.
P33. Mascagni, Iris (1899), reh. 25.
(occupandosi dei fiori del suo piccolo giardino)

Andantino
Iris recitando
In pu re stil le, ga ie scin til le

Il Cieco
Tu mi hai tolto la vista, ma io
(le Mousmè scendono nel ruscello a lavare)
legatissimo sostenendo
a tempo
rit. sempre
Iris
scen de la vi ta! L’ac qua s’ef fon de . . . .
Il C. vedo la Tua Gran dezza; la tua Gran
a tempo
rit. sempre
P34. Coleridge-Taylor, A Tale of Old Japan (1911), 5 after reh. 3.
L’istesso tempo
3 3
S.
Chorus
Ki mi, the child of his bro ther, Bright as the moon in May,
3 3
A.
Ki mi, the child of his bro ther, Bright as the moon in May,
3 3
3
3
3
3
3
3
❧
P35. Ravel, Shéhérazade (1898), mm. 75–82.
cresc.
3 3
Perse, et l’Inde, et puis la Chine,
Allegro
3
Les man da rins ven trus sous les om
3 3 3 3
brel les, Et les prin ces ses aux mains fi nes, Et les let
3 3 3 3
P35. (continued)
trés qui se que rel lent Sur la po é sie et sur la beau
3 3 3 3
P36. Ravel, Ma Mère l’oye (1911), “Laideronette, Impératrice des Pagodes,” begin-
ning.
Mouvement de marche
m.d.
❧
P37. Ravel, L’Enfant et les sortilèges (1925), mm. 20–27.
L’enfant
J’ai pas en vie de faire ma pa ge, J’ai en vie d’al ler me
pro me ner. J’ai en vie de man ger tous les gâ teaux

P38. Ravel, L’Enfant et les sortilèges (1925), Chinese Teacup.
La Tasse (à l’Enfant, en le menaçant de ses doigts pointus et dorés)

espressivo, portando
Keng ça fou, Mah jong, Keng ça

8va
3 3 3 3 3
fou, Puis’ kong kong pran pa, Ça oh râ,

(8va)
❧
P39. Puccini, Turandot (1926), I, reh. 19 (children’s hymn).
Andantino
Ragazzi (interni, avvicinandosi)
Là, su i mon ti del l’est, la ci

8va
co gna can tò, Ma l’a pril non

8va
ri fio rì, ma la ne ve non sge lò

P40. Handel, Il pastor fido (1712), II/1, “Caro Amor,” mm. 24–35.
Ca ro A mor, ca ro A mor, sol per mo men ti
la scia in pa ce l’al ma mi a,
P41. Schubert, Winterreise (1828), “Frühlingstraum,” mm. 5–8.
Ich träum te von bun ten Blu men, so wie sie wohl blü hen im Mai,
P42. Liszt, Weihnachtsbaum (1876), #3, “Die Hirten an der Krippe,” beginning.
Allegretto pastorale marcato
un poco marcato
❧
P43. Beethoven, String Quartet, op. 59 #2 (1806), finale, beginning.
Presto
P44. Chopin, Nocturne, op. 37 #2 (1839), mm. 28–33.
sostenuto
P45. Chopin, Mazurka, op. 50 #3 (1842), mm. 45–48.
mezza voce
P46. Johann Christoph Pez, Concerto pastorale (ca. 1700), Adagio, beginning.
Pastorale
Adagio
P47. Heinichen, Pastorale per la Notte della Nativitate Christi (1720s?), beginning.
2 Oboes
(Flutes)
Organo
(Cembalo)
6 6 5 6 5 7
4 4 3 4 3
P48. Handel, The Triumph of Time and Truth (1757), “Pleasure,” beginning.
Vn. I
Ob. I, II
Vn. II
Va.
Bsn.
Cb.
P49. Handel, Messiah (1741), Pastoral Symphony, beginning.

❧
P50. Mozart, The Magic Flute (1791), I, Quintet, mm. 3–10.
sotto voce
Drei Knäb chen, jung, schön, hold und wei se, um
Drei Knäb chen, jung, schön, hold und wei se, um
schwe ben euch auf eu rer Rei se, sie wer den eu re
schwe ben euch auf eu rer Rei se, sie wer den eu re
Füh rer sein, folgt ih rem Ra te ganz al lein.
Füh rer sein, folgt ih rem Ra te ganz al lein.

P51. Gade, Comala (1846), #1, “Chor der Krieger und Barden,” beginning.
Andante
Hn.
P52. Haydn, Die Jahreszeiten (1801), #29, Herbst, “Hört! hört das laute Getön,” mm.
84–89.
Jetzt hat er die Hun de ge täuscht;
Jetzt hat er die Hun de ge täuscht;
Hn. Hn.
Cl., Bsn.
❧
P53. Haydn, Symphony #73, “La Chasse” (1781), iv, mm. 37–41.
P54. Liszt, Fantaisie romantique sur deux mélodies suisses (1836), mm. 454–55.
8va
3
3
rit.
P55. Leopold Mozart, Sinfonia di caccia (1756), i, beginning.
Allegro
Solo
P56. Meyerbeer, Dinorah (1859), #16, “Chant du Chasseur,” beginning.
(Le chasseur, sur le haut des rochers, regarde si les camarades arrivent)
Allegro
Le Chasseur (il donne du cor pour appeler
les camarades)
En chas se, en chas se, en chas se! En
(il donne du cor)
chas se, pi queurs a droits! La bê te pas se,
Sui vons sa tra ce Jus qu’au fond des bois,
marcato
❧
P57. Rossini, La donna del lago (1819), I/1, m. 163.
fi gli di mor rea
P58. Punto, Rondeau en chasse (ca. 1790s), beginning.
Allegretto
I
Ob. II
Hn. I
in F II
I
Ob. II
I
Hn. II
P59. Schubert, Winterreise (1828), “Der Lindenbaum,” beginning.
Mäßig
3 3
3 3 3 3
P60. Leopold Mozart, Sinfonia di caccia (1756), ii, beginning.
Hn. I
in D II
Vn. I
Vn. II
Va.
Cb.
❧
P61. Richard Strauss, Eine Alpensinfonie (1915), “Der Anstieg,” reh. 18.
I a2
I
III
Hn.
in F
a2
II
IV
a 2 marcatissimo
I
III
Hn.
in F
II
IV
cresc.
(Jagdhörner von ferne)
a3
I
III
V 3 3
3
a3
Hn. II
hinter der Scene
in E IV
VI
3 3 3
3 3 3
a6
VII
to
XII
3 3
Tpt. I
in C II
a2
Hn. I
in F II
P61. (continued)
a3
I
III
V
a3
Hn. II
in E IV
VI
hinter der Scene
a3
VII
to
XII
a6
Tpt. I
in C II
a2
Tbn. I
II
Ob.
Hn. I
in F II
legatissimo
sempre pianissimo
❧
P63. Schubert, Piano Trio in B major, D. 898 (1828), i, mm. 51–53.
3 3
3 3
3 3
3
3 3
3
3 3
P64. Gounod, Mireille (1864), IV/14, “Chanson,” beginning.
Andante
Très modéré
dim.
P65. Schumann, Incidental Music to Manfred (1852), #4, “Alpenkuhreighen,” begin-

ning.
Nicht schnell
EHn.
(Echo)
Man fred. Horch, der Ton!

P66. Richard Strauss, Eine Alpensinfonie (1915), “Auf der Alm,” 3 before reh. 51,
English horn.
EHn.
P67. Grétry, Guillaume Tell (1791), Overture, beginning.
Adagio
3 3
3
3 3
3
Allegro
3 3 3 3
❧
P68. Rossini, Guillaume Tell (1829), I/2.
Andantino
Ranz des Vaches
Hn.
Allegretto
3 3 3 3
P69. Liszt, Fantaisie romantique sur deux mélodies suisses (1836), mm. 45–49.
8va
Allegro pastorale
dolcissimo ma sempre marcato
(8va)
8va
poco cresc.
P70. Rossini, Guillaume Tell (1829), Overture, mm. 176–92.
Andante
EHn. 3 3
dolce
3 3
Fl.
EHn. 3 3
Fl.
3 3
P71. Meyerbeer, Dinorah (1859), #13, “Villanelle des deux pâtres,” beginning.
(deux petits pâtres descendent du haut de la montagne, jouant sur leurs chalumeaux)
pressez Plus lent
a capriccio (en écho)
doux
P72. Berlioz, Symphonie fantastique (1830–32), iii, beginning.
Adagio
EHn.
marcato
Ob.
❧
P73. Delibes, “Églogue” (1886), beginning.
Andante
8va
P74. Gounod, Mireille (1864), Overture, beginning.
Andante
3
3 3 3
3 3 3
3
3
3
3
3 3 3
P75. Grieg, Peer Gynt Suite (1875), “Morning Mood,” beginning.
Allegretto pastorale
dolce
P76. Reyer, “Adieu Suzon” (1854), mm. 6–8.
a tempo
jours
❧
P77. Gade, Symphony #1 (1844), iii, beginning.
Ob. I
dolce
div.
Va.
dolce
div.
Vc.
dolce
Cb.
dolce
Ob. I
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
Ob. I
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
P78. Méhul, Uthal (1806), Overture, mm. 9–21.
Va. I
Va. II
Solo
Cl.
Hn.
in C
Bsn.
Vc.
Cb.
Va. I
Va. II
I
Cl.
Hn.
in C
Solo
Bsn.
Vc.
Cb.
❧
P79. Rossini, Guillaume Tell (1829), I/1, mm. 9–16.
dolce
P80. Boieldieu, La Dame blanche (1825), I/1, “Choeur des montagnards,” beginning.
dolce
S.

dolce
T.

dolce
B.
dolce
S.
dolce
T.
dolce
B.
❧
P81. Boieldieu, La Dame blanche (1825), III/16.
Allegro moderato
S.
Chan tez, joy eaux mé ne strel.
T.
B.

P82. Haydn, Die Jahreszeiten (1801), #29, Herbst, “Hört! hört das laute Getön”
mm. 111–16.
Ho, ho,
Ho, ho,
Ho, ho, ho, ho! Ta
Ho, ho, ho, ho! Ta
ho! Ta jo, ho, ho!
ho! Ta yo! ho, ho!
jo, ta jo, ho, ho!
yo, ta yo! ho, ho!

❧
P83. Schubert, “Trost” (1819), mm. 10–14.
Hör ner klän ge ru fen kla gend aus des For stes grü ner Nacht,
P84. Schubert, Winterreise (1828), “Rückblick,” mm. 59–69.
Ich zu rü cke wie der wan ken, vor ih rem Hau se stil le stehn, möcht
ich zu rü cke wie der wan ken, vor ih
3 3
rem Hau se stil le stehn, vor ih rem Hau se
decresc.
stil le stehn.
dim.
❧
P85. Schubert, “Jägers Abendlied” (1816), beginning.
Sehr langsam, leise
Im Fel de schleich ich still und wild,
P86. Schubert, “Der Musensohn” (1822), mm. 5–14.
Durch Feld und Wald zu schwei fen, mein Lied chen weg zu
pfei fen, so geht’s von Ort zu Ort, so geht’s von Ort zu Ort.
P87. Franz Lachner, “Das Waldvöglein” (1830), mm. 16–20.
Das Vög lein hat ein schö nes Los im
Wald, im Wald.
P88. Mendelssohn, “Jagdlied” (1834), end.
so gilt’s das Le ben mein.
dim.
❧
P89. Massé, “Eho!” (1874), refrain.
au E ho! Les a gneaux vont aux plaines E ho!
sans dim.
respirer
Et les loups sont aux bois Et les loups sont aux bois E ho!
dim.
dim.
Et les loups sont aux bois E ho!
dim.
P90. Massé, “Le Muletier de Calabre” (ca. 1844), mm. 24–28.
Ahu! mes mu les Sans é mu les

sec sec
P91. Massenet, “Lève-toi” (1868), beginning.
Lent et expressif
Lè ve
dim.
sost. assai
toi, lè ve toi, chère en se ve li e!
dim.
❧
P92. David, “Éveillez-vous” (1845), beginning.
E veil lez vous,
bel le, Ma belle, aux grands yeux bleus,
P93. Schoenberg, “Ei, du Lütte” (ca. 1898), beginning.
Ei, du Lü te Sö te, Wit te, ei, du Lüt te, weerst du min!

P94. Hahn, “Paysage” (1890), 4 before E major.
ne, Chè re à vous em me
ner!
P95. Brahms, Zigeunerlieder, op. 103 (1888), #3 “Wisst Ihr, wann mein Kindchen,”
mm. 10–11.
Allegro
S.
A.
Schä tze lein, du bist mein,
T.
B.
Schä tze lein, du bist mein,
non legato
❧
P96. Wagner, Das Rheingold (1854), i, m. 1.
Woglinde
Wei a! Wa ga! Wo ge, du Wel le, wal le zur Wie ge!
wa ga la wei a! wal la la, wei a la wei
a!
P97. Gounod, “Les Champs” (1863), refrain.
rit.
Viens! les champs les champs ont aus si leurs a mours!
colla voce a tempo

P98. Gounod, “Les Naïades” (1852), end.
Fu yons, fu yons vers la mon
3
3
3 3
ta gne Où dans les
ruis seaux clairs.
morz. affatto.
8va
❧
P99. Wagner, Lohengrin (1848), I/3, mm. 42–44.
Leb’ wohl! Leb’ wohl! mein lie ber Schwan!
P100. Cornelius, “Vorabend” (1856), mm. 7–8.
Nun, Lieb ster, geh’, nun schei de!
P101. Mozart, The Magic Flute (1791), I, Quintet, mm. 23–24.
So le bet wohl! wir wol len gehn,

P102. Chabrier, “Ronde gauloise” (1862), m. 72.
long
ô gué! ô gué! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah!
❧
P103. Gounod, Mireille (1864), IV/14, “Chanson,” end.
(en s’éloignant)
ah! ah! ah!
dim.
P104. Brahms, “Wiegenlied” (1868), beginning.
Zart bewegt
Gut en A bend, gut Nacht,
P105. Schubert, “Wiegenlied” (1816), beginning.
Langsam
Schla fe, schla fe, hol der, sü sser Kna be,
P106. David, La Perle du Brésil (1851), Entr’acte, “Le Rêve,” beginning.
Allegretto moderato dolce ed espressivo
il canto
❧
P107. Nielsen, Sleep (1904), 2 before reh. 15.
molto tranquillo
Drøm me svin der,
Drøm me svin der,
Drøm me svin der,
Drøm me svin der,
molto tranquillo
P108. Brahms, “Der Abend” (1874), 4 before reh. G.
ru het, ru het und lie bet!

P109. Cornelius, “Abendgefühl” (1862), end.

3
Ganz wie ein Schlum mer lied vor.
P110. Brahms, Schicksalslied (1871), 16 before reh. I.
Stät te zu ruhn,
Stät te zu ruhn,
Stät te zu ruhn,
Stät te zu ruhn,
❧
P111. David, “Le Pêcheur à sa nacelle” (1845), refrain (m. 7).
sostenuto
Où tout s’en dort, Où tout s’en dort!
P112. Massenet, “Bonne Nuit!” (1872), mm. 15–19.

poco rit. a tempo
Bon ne nuit, bon ne nuit, bon ne nuit!
poco rit. a tempo
P113. Loewe, “Die Mutter an der Wiege” (1840), vocal entrance (m. 6).
Schlaf, hol der Kna be, süss und mild!

P114. Massé, “Berceuse” (1874), vocal ending.

a piacere
Dors! dors! mon en fant.
P115. Franz, “Schlummerlied” (1843), beginning.
Andante con moto
Ru he Süss lieb chen, im Schat ten

la melodie ben marcato
P116. Liszt, Von der Wiege bis zum Grabe (1882), “Der Wiege,” beginning.
Andante
una corda
❧
P117. Rachmaninoff, “Melody” (1900), mm. 35–36.

cresc.
rapt in bliss ful dreams, to wa ken ne ver
more . . .
8va
P118. Schubert, Die schöne Müllerin (1823), “Des Baches Wiegenlied,” mm. 34–38.
bis das Meer will trin ken die Bäch lein aus, bis das
Meer will trin ken die Bäch lein aus.

P119. Franz, “Schlummerlied” (1843), end.
dich ein.
smorzando
P120. Chopin, Berceuse (1844), end.

❧
P121. Cornelius, “Wiegenlied” (1853), end.

im Tempo
nachahmend
1. 2. 3.
P122. Mahler, Kindertotenlieder (1904), end.
sempre
P123. Fauré, “En Sourdine” (1891), vocal ending.
Le ros si gnol
3
sempre
sempre
chan te
sempre
dim.
ra.
❧
P124. Brahms, Liebeslieder Waltzes, op. 52 #15 (1869), “Nachtigall, sie singt so schön,”
beginning.
dolce
S.
Nach ti
dolce
A.
Nach ti
dolce
T.
Nach ti
dolce
B.
Nach ti
8va
I dolce
II dolce
S.
gall, sie singt so schön,
A.
T.
B.
(8va)
II
P125. Rosetti, Sinfonia pastoralis (1778), i, mm. 14–17.
Allegro molto
❧
P126. Massé, “Dans les Bois” (1874), vocal entrance (m. 13).
Au prin temps l’oi seau naît et
chan te N’a vez vous pas ou ï
sa voix?
P127. Schumann, Album für die Jugend (1848), “Gukkuk im Versteck,” beginning.
1.
Immer sehr leise
P128. Handel, L’Allegro, il penseroso, ed il moderato (1741), “Sweet Bird,” mm. 22–26.
ad libitum
Sweet bird, sweet bird, that shun’st the noise of

I Solo
fol ly, most mu si cal, most mel an chol y.

I
6 5
4 3
P129. Brahms, Liebeslieder Waltzes, op. 52 #13 (1869), “Vögelein durchrauscht die
Luft,” beginning.
S.
Vö ge lein durch rauscht die Luft, durch rauscht die Luft,
A.
Vö ge lein durch rauscht die Luft, durch rauscht die Luft,
II poco
❧
P130. Chausson, “Réveil” (1883), beginning.
Mouvement modéré
1st Voice
2nd Voice
Mon coeur, lè ve toi!
poco rit.
Dé jà la lou et te Se cone en chant ant son aile au so
a tempo cresc.
Mon coeur, lè ve toi! Dé jà là lou et te Se
leil.
P131. Knecht, Le Portrait musical de la Nature (1785), i, mm. 37–39.
Fl.
dolce
I
Ob.
Bsn.
Hn.
Vn. I
dolce
Vn. II
dolce
Va.
dolce
pizz.
Vc.
Cb.
❧
P132. Beethoven, Symphony #6 (1808), ii, mm. 129–32.

Nachtigall
cresc.
Wachtel
Kuckuck
P133. Vivaldi, La primavera (1725), i, mm. 21–26.
e Festosetti La Salutan gli
Vn.
princ.
Vn. I
Vn. II
Augei con lieto canto,
Vn.
princ.
Vn. I
Vn. II
Vn.
princ.
Vn. I
Vn. II
❧
P134. Vivaldi, Flute Concerto in D major, “Il gardellino,” RV 428 (1728), 1,

mm. 13–18.
a piacimento
P135. Vivaldi, Violin Concerto in A major, “Il cucu,” RV 335 (1719), i, mm. 18–23.
P136. Loewe, “Vogelgesang” (1823), mm. 5–7.

cresc.
rau schen und lär men, sin gen und schwär men,
rau schen und schwär men,
P137. Saint-Saëns, The Carnival of the Animals (1886), #13, “The Swan,” end.
rit. Lento a tempo
Vc.
8va
Pno. I
rit.
Vc.
Pno. I
Pno. II
❧
P138. Chausson, “Les Papillons” (1880), beginning.
Vif
Les pa pil
très léger
lons cou leur de nei ge vo lent par es

P139. Wagner, Siegfried (1869), II/2, forest bird.

(Siegfried’s Aufmerksamkeit wird endlich durch den Gesang der Waldvögel gefesselt.)
sempre
❧
P140. Wagner, Siegfried-Idyll (1870), 4 after Lebhaft.
Fl.
I 3
Cl.
(lustig)
Hn.
3 3
Fl.
(lustig)
I 3
Cl.
Hn.
Fl.
cresc.
I 3
Cl.
3 3
cresc.
Hn. cresc.
P141. Ravel, Daphnis et Chloé (1912), “Lever du jour,” 11 after Lent.

3
Picc.
Fl.
Fl.
in G
Picc.
6
Fl.
Fl.
in G
P142. Bizet, “Rêve de la bien-aimée” (1868), mm. 17–21.
Qui chan tait sur ses ri ves.

❧
P143. Massé, “La Chanson du printemps” (1854), beginning.
Allegretto semplice
P144. Brahms, Liebeslieder Waltzes, op. 52 #6 (1869), “Ein kleiner, hübscher Vogel,” reh. D.
dolce
Der Vo gel kam in

dolce
Der Vo gel kam in

dolce
Der Vo gel kam, der Vo gel kam in

dolce
Der Vo gel kam in

8va
I dolce
II dolce
P144. (continued)
ei ne schö ne Hand,
(8va)
II
P145. Grieg, “Vaaren” (“Spring”) (1880), mm. 26–32.
mot Sol og mot Su mar.
8va
e con Ped.
❧
P146. Mahler, Symphony #4 (1900), i, reh. 10.
Fliessend, aber ohne Hast

a4
Fl.
deutlich
BsCl.
in A
Alle Betonungen zart
Vc.
sempre
pizz.
Cb.
a4
Fl.
BsCl.
in A
Vc.
Cb.
P146. (continued)
a4
Fl.
BsCl.
in A
Bsn. I
dim.
zarte Betonungen
Vn. I
zarte Betonungen
Va.
Vc.
sempre
Cb.
sempre
a4
Fl.
BsCl.
in A
Bsn. I
Vn. I
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
❧
P147. D’Indy, Jour d’été à la montagne (1905), i, “Aurore,” woodwinds after reh. 4.
Solo
Picc. 3 3
I Solo
Fl.
6
I Solo
Ob.
Picc. 3 3
Fl.
Ob.
P148. Loewe, “Thomas der Reimer” (1860), m. 33.
Glö cke lein,

8va
P149. Mahler, “Um Mitternacht” (1901), beginning.
Tranquillo,
con moto eguale
P150. Schubert, “Die junge Nonne” (1825), mm. 70–74.
Horch! fried lich er tö net das
Glöck lein vom Turm;

❧
P151. Rachmaninoff, The Bells (1913), beginning.
Allegro, ma non tanto
cresc.
P152. Grieg, “Bell-Ringing” (1891), end.
molto
morendo
P153. Wagner, Parsifal (1881), I, end.

P154. Gounod, “Choral” (1860s?), mm. 13–19.
8va
cresc.
P155. Saint-Saëns, “La Cloche” (1855), mm. 5–10.
Seu le en ta som bre tour aux faî tes den te lés,
P156. Hahn, “D’une Prison” (1892), beginning.
Pas trop lent
Le
avec la plus grande tranquillité
ciel est par des sus le toit, si bleu, si cal me . . .

❧
P157. Ravel, Miroirs, v, “La Vallée des cloches” (1905), beginning.

Très lent
très doux et sans accentuation
un peu marqué
P158. Schumann, “Der Nussbaum” (1840), beginning.
Allegretto
Es
grü net ein Nuss baum vor dem Haus,
P159. Beethoven, Symphony #6 (1808), ii, mm. 17–18.

❧
P160. Schumann, Symphony #3 (1850), ii, end.
dim.
P161. Loewe, “Das Muttergottesbild im Teiche” (1834), end.
P162. Cornelius, “Simeon” (1856), end.
Das Knäb lein wun der bar.
poco rit.
P163. Chausson, “Ballade” (1896), end.
Dans une i gno ran ce blan
che.
retenu
❧
P164. Saint-Saëns, “Viens” (1855), beginning.
Allegro moderato
sotto voce
S.
Viens! Viens!
sotto voce
B.
Viens!
sotto voce
S.
U ne flûte in vi si ble Sou pi re dans les ver gers.
B.
Viens! U
P165. Cornelius “Am Morgen” (1856), beginning.
Langsam
Die Nacht ver geht nach sü ßer Ruh.
Hör’ mein Ge bet, All mächt’ ger, du!

❧
P166. Haydn, Die Jahreszeiten (1801), #2, “Komm, holder Lenz!” mm. 5–8.
Chor der Landleute
S.
Komm, hol der Lenz! des Him mels Ga be, komm,
A.
Komm, hol der Lenz! des Him mels Ga be, komm,
T.
Komm, hol der Lenz! des Him mels Ga be, komm, aus
B.
Komm, hol der Lenz! des Him mels Ga be,
P167. Chipp, Twilight Fancies #2 (1858), end.
diminuendo
ritardando
P168. Hahn, “L’Heure exquise” (1892), beginning.
Tranquillo e dolce possibile
La lu ne
blan che Luit dans les bois; De cha que
bran che Part u ne voix Sous la ra mé re.
poco
❧
P169. Chopin, Ballade in A major (1841), beginning.
Allegretto
mezza voce
P170. Chopin, Ballade in F minor (1843), mm. 11–13.

P171. Schubert, Ländler, D. 814 #1 (1824), beginning.
P172. Schubert, Ländler, D. 814 #4 (1824), beginning.
con sordini
con sordini
❧
P173. Haydn, Symphony #88 (1785), iii, trio.
P174. Haydn, Symphony #104 (1795), iii, beginning (reduced score).

P175. Schubert, Symphony #9 (1828), iii, mm. 5–12.
I
Fl. II
I
Ob. II
I
Cl. II
I
Bsn. II
I
Hn. II
Timp.
in C-G
I
Fl. II
I
Ob. II
I
Cl. II
a2
I
Bsn. II
I
Hn. II
Timp.
in C-G
❧
P176. Chopin, Waltz, op. 18 (1832), mm. 22–27.
P177. Schubert, Sonata in A major, D. 959 (1828), scherzo, m. 13.
P178. Schumann, Symphony #3 (1850), ii, beginning.
Sehr mässig
ten. ten. ten. ten.
P179. Chabrier, Pièces pittoresques, “Menuet pompeux” (1881), mm. 68–73.
a tempo
rall. poco a poco
P180. Chabrier, “Ivresses!” (1869), mm. 118–20.
Moins vite
très expressif
airs! Ai mons nous ai mons nous,
dolce
P181. Chabrier, “Ballade des gros dindons” (1889), mm. 19–20.
Les gros din dons!

Mouvement de Valse
e con grazia
❧
P182. Beethoven, Deutsche, WoO 13 #5 (1797), mm. 17–24.
Trio
dolce
P183. Chopin, Waltz, op. 34 #1 (1835), mm. 33–40.
P184. Beethoven, Écossaise, WoO 83 #1 (1806), beginning.

P185. Chopin, 3 Écossaises, op. 72 #3 (1829), #1, beginning.
Vivace
brillante
3 3 3
3 3
P188. Brahms, Liebeslieder Waltzes, op. 52 #3 (1869), “O die Frauen,” beginning.
T.
B.
II
❧
P189. Johann Strauss, Jr., Donauweibchen (1888), #2, mm. 5–10.
P190. Liszt, Albumblatt in Walzerform (1842), beginning.
Allegro 8va
cresc.
8va
P191. Schubert, Winterreise (1828), “Gute Nacht,” mm. 71–75.
P192. Schubert, Winterreise (1828), “Die Post,” mm. 7–11.
Von der
Stra ße her ein Post horn klingt.
P193. Schubert, Winterreise (1828), “Die Krähe,” mm. 16–17.
Krä he, wun der li ches Tier,

❧
P194. Schubert, Winterreise (1828), “Mut!” mm. 8–9, 15–16.
schüttl’ ich ihn her un ter.
15
sing’ ich hell und mun ter.
P195. Mahler, Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen (1883–96), end.
Al les! Lieb’ und Leid, und Welt, und
morendo
Traum!
P196. Schumann, Liederkreis, op. 24 (1840), “Morgens steh’ ich auf,” mm. 33–36.
träu mend wand le ich bei Tag.
P197. Rachmaninoff, “Let Me Rest Here Alone” (1906), 13 before end.
2
2
Well I know thy en dear ments at
8va
dim.
part ing . . .
rapido cresc.
❧
P198. Mahler, “Ich bin der Welt” (1901), mm. 11–14.
tranquillo
Ich bin der Welt ab han den ge kom men,
P199. Schubert, “Frühlingslied,” D. 919 (1827), mm. 79–82.
und je des Herz mit Won ne
schwellt, mit Won ne schwellt
decresc.
P200. Schubert, “Gott in der Natur,” D. 757 (1822), Allegro molto vivace.
Allegro molto vivace

in E
in E
Es regt in den Lau ben des Wal des sich schon,
Es regt in den Lau ben des Wal des sich schon,
P201. Brahms, Neues Liebeslieder, op. 65 #8, “Weiche Gräser,” (1874), beginning.
Ruhig dolce
Wei che Grä ser

dolce
Wei che Grä ser

dolce
Wei che Grä ser

dolce
Wei che Grä ser
dolce
dolce
❧
P201. (continued)
im Re vier,
im Re vier,
im Re vier,
im Re vier,
P202. Liszt, “Au Lac de Wallenstadt” (1838), beginning.
Andante placido
dolce
3
dolcissimo egualmente
cantabile
❧
P203. Liszt, “Pastorale” (1855), mm. 20–27.
P204. Liszt, “Églogue” (1855), mm. 6–9.
P205. Liszt, Les Préludes (1855), mm. 201–4.
Allegretto pastorale
Cor.
dolciss.
P206. Chabrier, “Toutes les Fleurs” (1889), mm. 13–17.
a tempo
dolce
re! Les pâ les lys aux sa luts lan gou reux,

espress.
sempre
Les lys flu ets dont le sa tin se do re,
P207. Delibes, “Bonjour, Suzon!” (1886), mm. 9–15.
Bon jour, Su zon, ma fleur des bois!

a tempo
❧
P208. David, “Au Couvent” (1851–66), refrain.
rall.
Et des fo rêts Hu mer l’air frais, Et des fo rêts Hu mer l’air frais!
rall.
P209. Hahn, “Paysage” (1890), end.
De sa basse in fi ni e!
8va
bassa
P210. Dvo¤rák, Symphony #9 (1893), ii, mm. 38–40.

P211. Chipp, Twilight Fancies #3 (1858), end.
P212. Mahler, Symphony #4 (1900), iii, mm. 318–25 (horns only).
Pesante
Schalltrichter auf 3
Schalltrichter auf 3
3
❧
P213. Rachmaninoff, Spring (1902), Più vivo.
Più vivo
Und Spiel end durch die Lüf te streicht der
Und Spiel end durch die Lüf te streicht der

3 3 3
3 3 3
3
3
ke cke, fri sche Wind.
ke cke, fri sche Wind.
cresc.
P214. Rachmaninoff, “The Lilacs” (1900), beginning.
Allegretto sempre tranquillo
At the red of the dawn,
un poco ten.
O’er the dew span gled lawn, Where I meet the new day like a
cantabile
P215. Rachmaninoff, “Before My Window” (1906), beginning.
Lento
cantabile
Be fore my win dow stands a flow’r ing cher ry tree,
3
❧
P216. Reyer, “À un Berceau” (1851), mm. 11–14.

rit.
par mi les fleurs d’A vril par mi les fleurs d’A vril
P217. Mendelsson, “Scottish” Symphony (1842), iii, mm. 9–16.
sempre
P218. Boieldieu, La Dame blanche (1825), III/16, “Choeur et Air écossais,” mm. 9–20.
voi ci ven ir la ban nie re voi ci ven ir la ban nie re des
che va liers, des che va liers, des che va liers d’A ve nel des
che va liers, des che va liers, des che va liers d’A ve nel
❧
P219. Mendelssohn, “Scottish” Symphony (1842), iv, mm. 396–99.
Allegro maestoso assai

divisi
P220. Gade, Comala (1846), #9, “Chor der Krieger,” mm. 31–33.
T.
Ent flohn ist der Feind’ Ge tö se,
B.
Ent flohn ist der Feind’ Ge tö se,

P221. Loewe, “Alpins Klage” (1844), mm. 47–54.
Allegretto
3 3 3 3
Ryno.
Vor bei sind
Wind und Re gen,
P222. Nicolai, Die lustigen Weiber von Windsor (1849), Overture, beginning.
Andantino moderato
tremolando
3
❧
P223. Brahms, “Darthulas Grabesgesang,” op. 42 #3 (1861), mm. 48–53.
Poco animato
mezza voce 3
Wach auf, wach auf, Dar thu la! Früh ling ist
mezza voce 3
mezza voce
3
mezza voce
3
mezza voce
3
mezza voce
3
3
molto dolce
3
P223. (continued)
3
drau ßen! die Lüf te säu seln,

3

3
3
❧
P224. Loewe, “Thomas der Reimer” (1860), mm. 93–97.
Allegretto
Sie rit ten durch den grü nen Wald, wie glück lich da der Rei mer war,
wie glück lich da der Rei mer war!
ritenuto
P225. Boieldieu, La Dame blanche (1825), Overture, mm. 13–17.

P226. Berlioz, Rob Roy (1831), 4 after reh. 7.
poco
❧
P227. Berlioz, Rob Roy (1831), 14 after reh. 9 (reduced score).

P228. Loewe, “Lied der Königin Elisabeth” (1847), mm. 45–48.
Andantino idilliaco
P229. Saint-Saëns, Le Lever de la lune (1855), end.
P230. Berlioz, Irlande, op. 2 #2, “Hélène” (1829), beginning.

❧
P231. Berlioz, Irlande, op. 2 #2, “Hélène” (1829), end of verse.
Ré pé tait cha que ber ger.
P232. Berlioz, Irlande, op. 2 #7, “L’Origine de la harpe” (1829), end of verse.
a tempo
Son a mant par mi les ro seaux.

P233. Berlioz, Waverley (1828), reh. 2.
unis.
div. pizz.
espress.
pizz.
P234. Schumann, “John Anderson,” op.145 #4 (1849), beginning.
Langsam
John An der son, mein Lieb!

❧
P235. Schumann, “Das Hochlandmädchen,” op. 55 #1 (1847), beginning.
Nicht schnell
Solo
S.
Nicht Da men tönt von ho hem Rang mein kunst los länd li cher Ge
Solo
A.
Solo
T.
Solo
B.
S.
sang; mir blei be fern so eit ler Stern; geht mir mein Hoch land
A.
T.
B.
Choir (without Solo voices)
S.
mäd chen! In grü nen Tha les Schat ten, o, auf
A.
T.
B.

P236. Schumann, “Unter’m Fenster,” op. 34 #3 (1840), beginning.
Allegretto
Wer ist vor mei ner Kam mer thür?
Ich
bin es, ich bin es!

❧
P237. Brahms, “Gesang aus Fingal,” op. 17 #4 (1860), mm. 69–78.
espress.
Tre nar, der lieb li che Tre nar starb, starb!

espress.
Tre nar, der lieb li che Tre nar starb, starb!
o Mäd chen von I ni store!
o Mäd chen von I ni store!
P238. Lesueur, Ossian (1804), III, “Entrée des chasseurs dansants,” mm. 10–17.
P239. Boieldieu, La Dame blanche (1825), I/1, “Choeur des montagnards,” mm.
66–73.
P240. Thomas, Hamlet (1868), “Pas des chasseurs,” mm. 14–17.

❧
P241. D’Indy, Symphony on a French Mountain Air (1886), beginning (reduced score).
Solo
EHn.
espr.
avec sourdines
Vn. I
poco
avec sourdines
Vn. II
poco
avec sourdines
Va.
poco
avec sourdines
Vc.
poco
Cb.
EHn.
dolce dim.
Vn. I
dim.
più
Vn. II
più dim.
Va.
più
Vc.
più
Cb.
P242. Chopin, Krakowiak (1828), beginning.
Introduction
Andantino quasi Allegretto
Hn.
in F
8va
Pno. legato e semplice
Vn. I
sempre legato
Vn. II
sempre legato
Va.
sempre legato
Vc.
sempre legato
Cb.
sempre legato
I
Hn.
in F
(8va)
Pno.
Vn. I
Vn. II
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
❧
P243. Borodin, Prince Igor (1869–87), I/1, choral entrance, m. 29.
Allegro moderato e maestoso
S.
A.
T.
B.
S.
A.
T.
B.
P244. Borodin, Prince Igor (1869–87), end.
cresc.
Hail, Prince I
cresc.
Hail, Prince I
cresc.
Hail, Prince I
cresc.
Hail, Prince I
cresc.
gor!
gor!
gor!
gor!
❧
P245. Borodin, Symphony #2 (1887), iii, 6 before reh. O.
Vn. I
Vn. II
Va.
3 3
Vc.
3
3 3
Cb.
3
Vn. I
rall.
Vn. II
rall.
Va.
rall.
Vc.
rall.
Cb.
rall.
P246. Borodin, Symphony #2 (1887), iv, mm. 10–12 (strings only).
Vn. I
Vn. II
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
❧
P247. Borodin, Symphony #1 (1882), iv, end (reduced score).
Vn. I
Vn. II
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
Vn. I
Vn. II
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
Vn. I
Vn. II
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
P248. Glinka, A Life for the Tsar (1836), I/1, Peasants’ Chorus.
S.
A.
O schö ne Len zes zeit, Wie uns dein
S.
A.
Na hen freut! Der Vö ge lein Schar sich blic ken
S.
A.
lässt, Will kom men ihr lie ben, fro hen Gäst’.
❧
P249. Glinka, A Life for the Tsar (1836), III/12, 1 afer reh. 30.
Wei se walt’ er im Va ter land,
riten.
walt’ er im Land! walt’ er im Va

riten.

riten.

riten.

P250. Glinka, A Life for the Tsar (1836), Epilogue, #23.
Allegro maestoso
S.
A.
Heil dir Russ land, du hei li gen Land!
T.
B.
P251. Tchaikovsky, Symphony #6 (1893), i, 2nd theme.
Andante
teneramente, molto cantabile, con espansione
❧
P252. Rimsky-Korsakov, Sadko (1896), reh. 37.
Allegro non troppo
T.
Choir
Clair est le so leil bril lant de mi di,
B.
Clair est le so leil bril lant de mi di,
T.
gai le beau fes tin, quand il est en train!
B.
gai le beau fes tin, quand il est en train!

P253. Rimsky-Korsakov, Sadko (1896), 12 after reh. 144.
Choeur (Les marchands et le peuple de Novgorod)
S.
Oh! voy ez gens de Nov go rod le grand,
A.
T.
B.
P254. Rimsky-Korsakov, Sadko (1896), Venetian Song, end.

❧
P255. Rimsky-Korsakov, Sadko (1896), 3 after reh. 182.
Niej.
lac Il men est la mai son sur la ri ve tout au bord du lac, la mai
P256. Rimsky-Korsakov, Sadko (1896), Indian Song, beginning.
P257. Rimsky-Korsakov, La Grande Pâque russe (1888), 1 before reh. C.
Cadenza
I Solo
dolce e piacere
ten.
colla parte
P258. Tchaikovsky, Symphony #2 (1872), iv, theme.
Allegro vivo
P259. Balakirev, Overture on Three Russian Themes (1858–81), end.
Andante
morendo
morendo
❧
P260. Balakirev, Islamey: Oriental Fantasy (1869), 13 after Allegro vivo.
8va
glissando
P261. Lyadov, Mazurka, op. 38 (1895), mm. 62–70.
Più mosso
3
3
3
P262. Rimsky-Korsakov, Sinfonietta on Russian Themes (1884), reh. D.
I Solo
Hn.
in F
Vn.
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
I
Hn.
in F
Vn.
Va.
div.
Vc.
Cb.
❧
P263. Rimsky-Korsakov, Sadko (1896), reh. 157.
Allegro non troppo

Niéjata
Vi ve Nov go rod le grand! Vi ve tou jours,

Les Pèlerins
monde en tier!
P264. Glinka, A Life for the Tsar (1836), III/14, Bridesmaids’ Chorus, beginning.
Con moto
dolcissimo e commodo
P265. Rimsky-Korsakov, Sadko (1896), Ballad of the People of Vseslavitch, reh. 27.
Moderato assai
(Niejata joue sur ses gousli et chante le lai de Volkh Vueslavitch.)
T.
Choir
Fais vi brer les cor des d’un doux ac
B.
Fais vi brer les cor des d’un doux ac
P266. Mussorgsky, Pictures at an Exhibition (1874), “Promenade,” beginning.
Allegro giusto, nel modo russico; senza allegrezza, ma poco sostenuto

❧
P267. Brahms, Zigeunerlieder, op. 103 (1888), #5, “Brauner Bursche führt zum Tanze,”
beginning.
Allegro giocoso
Brau ner Bur sche
Brau ner Bur sche
Brau ner Bur sche
Brau ner Bur sche

ben marc. 3
führt zum Tan ze sein blau äu gig schö nes Kind,

P268. Brahms, Zigeunerlieder, op. 103 (1888), #9, “Weit und breit,” mm. 21–24.
Più presto
nur mein Schatz der soll mich lie ben, soll mich lie ben al le zeit,
legg. R.H. non legato

❧
P269. Bruckner, Os justi (1879), end.
Choral
P270. Fauré, Requiem (1877), “Pie Jesu,” end. (© 1977 by C. F. Peters) Corporation.
Used by permission.)
P271. Liszt, Matrimonium (1884), beginning.
Lento
S. II
T.
Choir
B.
Org. dolcissimo
Solo
S. II
Sa cra
T.
Sa cra men tum hoc ma gnum est.
B.
Sa cra men tum hoc ma gnum est.
Org.
S. II
men tum hoc ma gnum est.
T.
B.
Org. dolcissimo
❧
P272. Bruckner, Ave Maria (1856), beginning.
Andante
A ve Ma ri a, gra ti a ple na, Do mi nus
P273. Liszt, Missa Choralis (1859–65), Benedictus, end.
Two solo voices
ho san na!
P274. Bruckner, Te Deum (1884), beginning.
Allegro
S.
Te De um lau da mus, te
A.
T.
B.
Feierlich, mit Kraft
S.
Do mi num con fi te mur.
A.
T.
B.

❧
P274. (continued)
S.
Te ae ter num Pa trem o mnis ter ra ve ne ra
A.
T.
B.
Solo
ausdrucksvoll
S.
tur. Ti bi
A.
tur.
T.
tur.
B.
tur.
P275. Fauré, Requiem (1877), Sanctus, m. 43. (©1977 by C. F. Peters Corporation.

T.
Ho san na in ex cel sis,
I
B. II
Ho san na in ex cel sis,
sempre
❧
P276. Bruckner, Mass in E minor (1866), “Et resurrexit,” beginning.
Allegro
Et re sur
Et re sur
cresc.
Et re sur re xit ter ti a
Et re sur re xit ter ti a
re xit ter ti a di
re xit ter ti a di
P276. (continued)
di e, se cun dum Scri
di e, se cun dum Scri
e, se cun dum Scri
e, se cun dum Scri
P277. Liszt, Anima Christi (1874), beginning.
Andante non troppo lento
T. I
A ni ma Chri sti, san cti fi ca me,
T. II
B. I
B. II
T. I
cor pus Chri sti, sal va me,
T. II
B. I
B. II

❧
P278. Liszt, Mass in C minor (1848), “Dona nobis,” mm. 11–14.
do na no bis pa cem,
P279. Liszt, St. Elisabeth (1862), II/5, Elisabeth’s prayer for Hungary (postlude).
lan des Au en!
cresc.
P280. Gounod, St. Cecilia Mass (1855), “Et resurrexit,” beginning.
cresc. molto
Et re sur re xit, re sur re xit

cresc. molto

cresc. molto

cresc. molto
cresc. molto
ter ti a di e se cun dum Scri ptu ras,

❧
P281. Michael Haydn, Missa Sancti Aloysii (1777), Gloria, beginning.
Allegro ma non troppo
Glo ri a in ex cel sis De o
P282. Michael Haydn, Missa Sancti Hieronymi (1777), “Benedictus,” beginning.
Tutti
Be ne di ctus qui ve nit qui
ve nit in no mi ne Do mi ni,
Tutti
Be ne di ctus qui ve
P283. Mahler, Symphony #1 (1888), iv, reh. 26.
3 3
sempre
P284. Wagner, Parsifal (1881), Prelude, “Grail motif,” m. 38.
P285. Liszt, Eucharista (1884).
gra ti a, et fu tu rae
❧
P286. Liszt, Via Crucis (1879), beginning.
Andante maestoso
P287. Liszt, Dante Symphony (1856), Magnificat, beginning.
L’istesso tempo
dolce
Ma gni fi cat a ni ma
div. a 3
div. a 3
me a Do mi num.
❧
P288. Liszt, Mass in C minor (1848), Gloria, beginning.
Allegro alla breve
Glo ri a in ex cel sis De o.
P289. Liszt, St. Elisabeth (1862), Crusader’s theme, I/3, m. 19.
In’s heil’ ge Land, in’s Pal men land,
In’s heil’ ge Land, in’s Pal men land,
P290. Liszt, Salve regina (1885).
ma ter mi se
P291. Gounod, St. Cecilia Mass (1855), Kyrie, beginning.
Moderato, quasi Andantino
P292. Berlioz, Symphonie fantastique (1830–32), i, end.
Religiosamente
The whole orchestra as soft as possible
Picc.
Fl.
Ob.
Cl.
Bsn.
Hn.
Sponge-headed drum-sticks
Timp.
Vn. I
Vn. II
div.
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
❧
P292. (continued)
Picc.
Fl.
Ob.
Cl.
Bsn.
Hn.
Timp.
Vn. I
Vn. II
Va.
Vc.
Cb.
P293. Brahms, Alto Rhapsody (1869), end.
qui cke sein Herz!
qui cke sein Herz!
qui cke sein Herz!
dim.
P294. Brahms, Schicksalslied (1871), mm. 23–25.
espress.
3
3 3
P295. Tchaikovsky, Romeo and Juliet (1869), mm. 517–24.

8va
(8va)
❧
P296. Puccini, Gianni Schicchi (1918), “O mio babbino caro,” end.

rit.
Lauretta
Bab bo, pie tà, pie tà!
(piangendo)
bab bo, pie tà, pie tà! . . .
rall.
P297. Gounod, St. Cecilia Mass (1855), “Benedictus.”
qui ve nit in no mi ne Do mi ni:

P298. Gounod, Messe aux Orphéonistes (1853), Sanctus, beginning.
Andante maestoso
San ctus, San ctus, San ctus Do mi nus San ctus,

❧
P299. Liszt, Chapelle de Guillaume Tell (1838), end.
cresc.
P300. Fauré, Requiem (1877), “Pie Jesu,” end. (© 1977 by C.F. Peters Corporation.
poco rit.
sem pi ter nam re qui em.
sempre poco rit.
P301. Liszt, Sposalizio (1838–61), end.
Adagio
P302. Brahms, Schicksalslied (1871), mm. 64–69.
3
3 3
3
dolce
❧
P303. Liszt, Hungarian Coronation Mass (1869), Sanctus, end.
san na
Solo
san na in ex cel
san na
san na
verhallend
ho san na.
Solo
sis ho san na.
P304. Mahler, Symphony #5 (1902), i, mm. 10–14.

3
P305. Chopin, Nocturne in C minor, op. 27 #1 (1835), end.
Adagio
❧
P306. Berlioz, Requiem (1837), Introit.
unis.
lu ce at e
unis.
lu ce at e
unis.
lu ce at e
8va
poco cresc.
cresc.
is,
cresc.
at e is,
cresc.
is, lu ce at e is,
(8va)
P307. Berlioz, Requiem (1837), end.
unis.
a men, a
a men, a
a men, a
3
3 3
3
men, a men,
men, a men,
men, a men,
❧
P307. (continued)
a men,
a men,
a men,
perdendo
a men, a
perdendo
a men, a
perdendo
a men, a
perdendo
3
P307. (continued)
men.
men.
men.
P308. Liszt, Marche funèbre (1882), end.

❧
P309. Liszt, Organ Mass (1879), Credo, end.
ritenuto
P310. Liszt, Dante Symphony (1856), end.
hal le lu ja!
P311. Liszt, St. Cecilia (1845–74), final line.
Moderato solenne, ma non Lento

riten.
du haut des cieux.

❧
P312. Liszt, Pater Noster (1879), end.
nem. Sed li be ra nos a ma lo. A men.
P313. Liszt, “Herr, wie lange” (1858).
wohl an mir ge than.
8va
P314. Liszt, Missa solemnis (1858), Sanctus, end.
ho
ho
cel sis ho san
cel sis ho san
cel sis ho san
cel sis ho san
perdendosi
❧
P314. (continued)
san na!
san na!
na!
na!
na!
na!
8va
P315. Wagner, Lohengrin (1848), Prelude to Act 1, end.
8va 8va
P316. Gounod, Messe solennelle #4 in G minor (1888), end.
cem, do na no bis, do na
cem, do na no bis
pa cem.
pa cem.
pa cem.
pa cem.
❧
P317. Gounod, Messe brève in C major (1877), Gloria, end.
De us, Rex coe le stis, De us Pa ter o mni po tens.
De us, Rex coe le stis, De us Pa ter o mni po tens.
us, Rex coe le stis, De us, De us Pa ter o mni po tens.
P318. Gounod, Requiem (1893), “Pie Jesu,” end.
A men. A
A men. A
men.
men.
P319. Bruckner, Psalm 150 (1892), end.
Ha le lu
Ha le lu
Ha le lu
Ha le lu
8va 3 3
ja! Hal
ja! Hal
ja! Hal
ja! Hal
8va
3 3 3
❧
P319. (continued)
le lu
le lu
le lu
le lu
3 3 3
ja!
ja!
ja!
ja!
8va
3 3 3
P320. Fauré, Messe basse (1881), end.

sempre
pa cem, do na no bis, do na no bis,

sempre
no bis, do na no bis, do na no bis,
sempre
do na pa cem, do na pa cem.
do na pa cem, do na pa cem.
❧
P321. Puccini, Messa di Gloria (1880), “Et incarnatus est,” end.
cresc.
cresc.
cresc.
cresc.
cresc.
cresc.
P322. Beethoven, Missa Solemnis (1823), “Dona,” mm. 26–31.
S.
A.
T.
B.

P323. Liszt, Adagio for organ (1867), end.
P324. Berlioz, Requiem (1837), Sanctus, beginning.
Andante sostenuto
San ctus, san ctus, san ctus, san ctus

❧
P325. Liszt, Requiem (1868), “Pie Jesu,” end.
T. I
re qui em, do na e is
T. II
B. I
B. II
Org.
T. I
re qui em. A men.
T. II
re qui em. A men.
B. I
re qui em. A men.
B. II
re qui em. A men.
Org.
P326. Liszt, Christus (1866–72), “Resurrexit,” m. 357.
Ho san na Ho san na
Ho san na Ho san na
Ho san na Ho san na
Ho san na Ho san na
❧
P327. Gounod, St. Cecilia Mass (1855), Gloria, end.
A men, A
A men, A
A men, A
A men, A
Adagio
men, A men.
men, A men.
men, A men.
men, A men.
P328. Gounod, Faust (1859), IV/19, “Apotheosis,” m. 9.
Christ est res sus ci té! Christ vient de re naî tre!

3 3
❧
P329. Liszt, Requiem (1868), “Libera me.”
dolce
Re qui em ae ter nam do na e is, Do mi ne:

dolce

dolce

dolce
et lux per pe tu a lu ce at e is.

P330. Liszt, St. Cecilia (1845–74), end.
8va
8va
❧
P331. Liszt, Missa Choralis (1859–65), Kyrie.
crescendo
son, e le i son, e le i
crescendo
crescendo
crescendo
crescendo
son, e le i son!
son, e le i son!
son, e le i son!
son, e le i son!
P332. Liszt, Missa Choralis (1859–65), “Christe.”
G.P.
a men, a men.
G.P.
a men, a men.
G.P.
a men, a men.
G.P.
a men, a men.
G.P.
P333. Liszt, Christus (1866–72), “The Beatitudes.”

più ritenuto
Be a ti, Be a ti, Be a
unis.
rum, re gnum coe lo rum, re gnum coe lo rum.

unis.
rum, re gnum coe lo rum.

❧
P334. Liszt, “Herr, wie lange” (1858).
8va
P335. Liszt, St. Elisabeth (1862), Introduction, 23 from end.
poco riten.
3 3 3 3
3
P336. Liszt, “Mein Gott” (1861).
mein
Gott,
❧
P337. Saint-Saëns, Mass, op. 4 (1856), “Quoniam,” beginning.
Poco allegro Récit.

(più tosto moderato)
Quo ni am tu so lus
sanc
P338. Fauré, Requiem (1877), “In paradisum.” (© 1977 by C. F. Peters Corporation.

Andante moderato dolce

S.
In pa ra
C.
T.
B.
sim.
dolce
S.
di sum
S.
de du cant An ge li:
❧
P338. (continued)
10 sempre
S.
in tu o ad ven tu su
13
S.
sci pi ant te Mar ty res,
16 sempre dolce
S.
et per du cant te
P338. (continued)
19
S.
in ci vi ta tem san ctam Je ru sa
C.
T.
Je
B.
Je
22 cresc.
S.
lem, Je ru sa lem, Je
C.
cresc.
T.
ru sa lem, Je ru sa
cresc.
B.
ru sa lem, Je ru sa
❧
P338. (continued)
25
S.
ru sa lem, Je
C.
Je ru
T.
lem, Je ru
B.
lem, Je ru
28
S.
ru sa lem.
C.
sa lem.
T.
sa lem.
B.
sa lem.
P338. (continued)
31 dolce
S.
Cho rus An ge lo rum
34
S.
te su sci pi at, et cum
37
S.
La za ro quon dam pau pe

❧
P338. (continued)
40
S.
re, et cum La za ro
43
cresc.
S.
quon dam pau pe re ae ter nam
cresc.
46
S.
ha be as re qui
C.
re qui
T.
re qui
B.
re qui
P338. (continued)
49
S.
em, ae
C.
em,
T.
em,
B.
em,
52
S.
ter nam ha be
C.
ae ter nam ha be
T.
ae ter nam ha be
B.
ae ter nam ha be
❧
P338. (continued)
55
S.
as re
C.
as re
T.
as re
B.
as re
58
S.
qui em.
C.
qui em.
T.
qui em.
B.
qui em.
P339. Liszt, Missa Choralis (1859–65), Kyrie, beginning.
Andante
Ky ri e
Ky ri e e le i son, e le
P340. Liszt, Missa Choralis, “Christe,” beginning.
Un poco più moderato

dolce
Chri ste e le i son,

dolce

dolce

dolce espressivo
P341. Liszt, St. Elisabeth (1862), leitmotif at beginning.
Andante moderato
dolcissimo
❧
P342. Liszt, Am Grabe Richard Wagners (1883), end.
perdendo
P343. Wagner, Parsifal (1881), I, end.

P344. Wagner, Die Walküre (1856), III/3, Brünnhilde’s sleep, end.
(Er wendet sich langsam zum Gehen.)

8va
dolce
(8va)
più
(8va)
sempre più
(Er wendet sich nochmals mit dem Haupt un blickt zurück.)

(8va)
(8va)
❧
P344. (continued)
(Er verschwindet durch das Feuer.)
(8va)
(8va)
più
(Vorhang fällt.)
(8va)
P345. Liszt, Les Morts (1860).
Heu - reux les morts qui meurent dans le Seigneur!
8va
legatissimo sempre
tenuto
P346. Liszt, Faust Symphony (1861), i, third Faust theme.
Grandioso, poco meno mosso 3 3

3 3
marcato 3 3
3 3
P347. Liszt, St. Cecilia (1845–74), verse 3.
Sain te Cé ci le
est la pa tron ne des in spi res.
P348. Liszt, Christus (1866–72), “Hirtengesang an der Krippe,” beginning.
tranquillo
ten.
dim. rall. smorz.

❧
P349. Liszt, “Angélus! Prière aux anges gardiens” (1882), m. 120.
dim.
P350. Liszt, Hungarian Coronation Mass (1869), “Hosanna.”
cel sis ho san na in ex cel sis

Solo
cel sis ho san na in ex cel sis ho

Coro
cel sis ho san na ho san na in ex cel sis ho

P350. (continued)
ho san na in ex cel
Solo
ho san na in ex cel
ho san na in ex cel
ho san na in ex cel
san na ho san na in ex cel sis ho

Coro
san na ho san na in ex cel sis ho
san na ho san na in ex cel sis
san na ho san na in ex cel sis

❧
P351. Liszt, “Es rufet Gott uns mahnend” (1845), beginning.
Marziale
ten. ten.
P352. Liszt, “Die Himmel erzählen” (1860), initial orchestral tutti.

P353. Gounod, St. Cecilia Mass (1855), “Et vitam venturi,” end.
Et vi tam ven tu ri sae cu li, et
vi tam ven tu ri sae cu li.

❧
P353. (continued)
cresc.
A men, A men, A
cresc.
A men, A men, A
cresc.
A men, A men, A
cresc.
A men, A men, A
cresc.
dim.
men.
dim.
men.
dim.
men.
dim.
men.
dim.
P354. Fauré, “Une Sainte en son auréole” (1894), beginning.
Allegretto con moto dolce
U ne
Sainte en son au ré o le, U ne cha te laine en sa

❧
P355. Suk, Asrael (1906), op. 27, 13mm. from end.
sempre legato
I
I
Fl. II
a 2 perdendosi
Cl. I
in A II
sempre legato
div.
Vn. I
div.
Vn. II
div.
Vla
I
II
Vc.
Solo
III
IV
P356. Bruckner, Te Deum (1884), “In te, Domine, speravi,” mm. 55–64.
poco a poco cresc.
te Do mi ne spe
poco a poco cresc.
Do mi ne, Do mi
dar, non con fun dar,

poco a poco cresc.
ter num, non con fun dar in ae ter num, non con
poco a poco cresc.
cresc. sempre
ra vi, spe ra vi, spe ra
ne, Do mi ne, non con
non con fun dar, non con fun dar

marc.
fun dar in ae ter num, in ae ter
cresc.
❧
P356. (continued)
vi:
fun dar in ae ter num, non
in ae ter num, non con fun
num, non con fun dar in
dim.
P357. Gounod, St. Cecilia Mass (1855), final Amens.
cem. A men, A men,
cem. A men, A men,
cem. A men, A men,
cem. A men, A men,
cresc. molto dim.
A men.
cresc. molto dim.
A men.
cresc. molto dim.
A men.
cresc. molto dim.
A men.
cresc. molto dim.

❧
P358. Liszt, Faust Symphony (1861), i, misterioso.
Meno mosso, misterioso e molto tranquillo

6
6
6
6 6 6
dolce
6
6 6
P359. Liszt, O Sacrum Convivium (1885).
et fu tu rae glo ri ae no bis pi gnus
et fu tu rae glo ri ae no bis pi gnus
da tur
da tur
dim.
P360. Liszt, Sposalizio (1838–61), m. 120.
8va
poco a poco riten. e smorz.
P361. Liszt, St. Elisabeth (1862), “Miracle of the Roses.”

❧
P362. Liszt, St. Cecilia (1845–74), first verse.
a tempo
dolce
P363. Liszt, St. Elisabeth (1862), II/5, Elisabeth’s death prayer, m. 42.
poco rit. a tempo rall.
ja, ich kom me bald!
P364. Liszt, St. Elisabeth (1862), Elisabeth’s prayer for her homeland.
lan des Au en!
cresc.
P365. Liszt, Ossa arida (1879), end.
T.
B.
Au di te ver bum, ver
T.
B.
des Herrn Wort, des Hern
T.
B.
le ver be du Sei gneur,
sempre
sempre
❧
P365. (continued)
T.
B.
bum Do mi ni, ver bum Do
T.
B.
Wort, des Herrn
T.
B.
le ver be du
P365. (continued)
T.
B.
mi ni!
T.
B.
Wort!
T.
B.
Sei gneur!
un poco ritenuto
un poco ritenuto
P366. Liszt, “Ordo” from Septem Sacramenta (1884).
sempre
❧
P367. Liszt, “Invocation” from Harmonies poétiques et religieuses (1848), mm. 52–59.
grandioso
6
con forza 6
6
6
6
con forza 6
6
6
P368. Parish-Alvars, Serenade, op. 83 (1846), mm. 30–31.
con forza
P369. Parish-Alvars, Serenade, op. 83 (1846), m. 66.

P370. Parish-Alvars, The Farewell, op. 68 (⫽Romance #20) (1846).
3 2 1 + 3 2 1 + 8va
legato
P371. Parish-Alvars, Grand Study in Imitation of the Mandolin (1846), m. 74.
B
les arpèges F
P372. Parish-Alvars, Fantasia, op. 35 (1838), 6 before Andantino.
con forza 17
❧
P373. Parish-Alvars, Grande Fantaisie et variations de bravoure, op. 57 (1843), m. 14.
legato
P374. Parish-Alvars, Tema con variazioni, WoO PA1 (1834), m. 78.

P375. Parish-Alvars, Grand Fantasia on Rossini’s “Moïse,” op. 58 (1843), mm. 31–32.
ben marcato il canto
8va loco 8va
P376. Parish-Alvars, Grand Fantasia on “I Capuleti e i Montecchi” by Bellini and

“Semiramide” by Rossini (posthumous; 1850), 11 after L’istesso tempo.
8va
P377. Parish-Alvars, Grand Fantasia on “I Capuleti e i Montecchi” by Bellini and

“Semiramide” by Rossini (posthumous; 1850), m. 19.
8va
25
❧
P378. Parish-Alvars, Grand Fantasia on Rossini’s “Moïse,” op. 58 (1843), m. 33.
loco 8va loco 8va
P379. Parish-Alvars, Fantasia, op. 35 (1838), 51 after Allegro con fuoco.
(G )
(D ) (B ) 19
glissando
glissando 19
P380. Parish-Alvars, Scenes from My Youth, op. 75 (1845), “Gipsies’ March,” mm. 59–61.
8va
cresc.
P381. Parish-Alvars, Fantasia on Themes from Weber’s “Oberon,” op. 59 (1842).
carezzando
gliss.
F 35
8va
loco
37
P382. Parish-Alvars, Grand Fantasia on Rossini’s “Moïse,” op. 58 (1843), 5 after a Tempo.
8va
sostenuto
cresc.
(8va)
loco
glissando
❧
P383. Parish-Alvars, La Danse des fées (1844), 26 after Allegro.

8va
loco
sdrucciolando
E G
P384. Parish-Alvars, Grand Study in Imitation of the Mandolin (1846), end.
8va
8va
sdrucciolando
P385. Parish-Alvars, Serenade, op. 83 (1846), end.
31
sdrucciolando 8va
30
(E )
(8va)
32
(A )
P386. Reinecke, Harp Concerto (1885), i, 3 after reh. C.
8va
B F
❧
P387. Rimsky-Korsakov, La Grande Pâque russe (1888), 10 after reh. D (harp and clar-
inet only).
solo
15
15
cresc.
15
15
P388. Thalberg, Nocturne, op. 16 #1 (1836), mm. 34–35.

8va loco
cresc.
P389. Thalberg, Fantasy on Il Trovatore, op. 77 (1862), beginning.
Andante
8va 8va
6 6
leggerissimo 6
(8va) 8va
6 6
6
(8va) 8va
❧
P390. Thalberg, Andante Final de “Lucia di Lamermoor,” op. 43 (1842), end.
8va 8va
precipitato
8va
P391. Thalberg, Fantasy on Don Juan, op. 42 (1842), mm. 39–40.
cresc.
P392. Thalberg, Fantasy on Oberon, op. 37 (1840), 39 after cantabile.
leggiero
10
13
P393. Chopin, Nocturne, op. 9 #3 (1832), end.

8va
dim.
Adagio
legatissimo 8va
rall. smorz.
rall.
❧
P394. Chopin, Etude, op. 10 #5 (1832), end.
8va
cresc.
(8va) 8va
P395. Chopin, Introduction and Rondo, op. 16 (1833), end.
8va
smorzando
(8va)
P396. Chopin, Etude, op. 25 #5 (1837), end.

❧
P398. Chopin, Rondo, op. 73 (1828), end.
8va
8va
(8va)
sempre
(8va)
8va
P399. Liszt, Transcendental Etude #1 (1840), end.
Non troppo presto
legatissimo
8va 8va
cresc.
(cresc. sempre)
8va
5
poco rallentando
❧
8va
rinf. dim.
18 6 6
12 12 6 6 6
cresc. molto
12 12 12 36
8va
18 6
6 36
6
36
8va
34
8va
25
8va 8va
(8va)
sempre più
(8va)
5
5
dolcissimo smorz.
❧
P402. Liszt, Ballade #1 (1849), m. 45.
8va
leggierissimo
(8va)
smorz. ritardando
P403. Liszt, Ballade #2 (autograph ending) (1853), end.
8va
(con 8va
bassa)
8va
P404. Liszt, Consolation #3 (1850), mm. 22–23.
P405. Liszt, Consolation #3 (1850), end.
8va
(8va)
rit.
perdendosi
❧
P406. Liszt, Rigoletto (concert paraphrase) (1855), m. 47.
a tempo 8va
il canto ben marcato ed espressivo
dolce
(8va)
P407. Liszt, Rigoletto (concert paraphrase) (1855), end.
8va
8va
8va 8va
accelerando
cresc. a tempo
3 3
3
3
❧
P408. Fauré, Pièces brèves, op. 84 (1869–1902) #7, “Allégresse,” beginning.
Allegro giocoso
leggiero 3 3
3 3 3 3
P409. Fauré, Nocturne, op. 33 #2 (1875), end.
Allegro moderato
8va
8va 8va
8va 8va
❧
P410. Fauré, Barcarolle, op. 44 (1886), mm. 66–68.
a tempo
P411. Lyadov, Etude, op. 37 (1895), beginning.
Con moto
5
5 5
dolce
P412. Cui, Prelude in A major, op. 64 #17 (1903), mm. 16–18.
poco accel.
rit. molto a tempo

P413. Franck, Piano Trio in F minor, op. 1 #1 (1842), Finale, mm. 25–36.
❧
P414. Debussy, “Feux d’artifice,” from Préludes, book 2 #12 (1913), mm. 17–18.
8va
glissando
8va
P415. Ravel, Jeux d’eau (1901), m. 48.

8va 8va
long
10 10
(8va)
glissando
P416. Ravel, Gaspard de la nuit (1908), i, “Ondine,” mm. 74–75.
3
sempre
glissando
au Mouvement
(Un peu plus lent qu’au début)
8va
6 6 6
glissando
3
Notes
Introduction
1 Jacques Chailley, Formation et transformation du langage musical, vol. 1, Intervalles et échelles
(Paris: Centre de documentation universitaire, 1955), 111. See also Percy Scholes, rev.
Judith Nagley, “Scale,” in The New Oxford Companion to Music, ed. Denis Arnold, 2 vols.,
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1983): 2:1622; Lajos Bárdos, “Natural Tonal Systems,”
in Studia memoriae Belae Bartók sacra, ed. Benjamin Rajeczky, 3rd ed., 207–46 (New York:
Boosey and Hawkes, 1959).
2 Stanley Sadie, ed., “Pentatonic,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, ed.
Stanley Sadie (London: Macmillan, 1980), 14:354. In the revised edition, I was able to
redress the deficiencies of the prior edition; my entry alludes to many of the results of this
book (Jeremy Day-O’Connell, “Pentatonic,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and
Musicians, 2nd ed., ed. Stanley Sadie and John Tyrrell, 19:315–17 [London: Macmillan,
2001]).
3 These assumptions are made more explicit by David Beveridge: “For Dvor¤ák, as for
Moussorgsky, Debussy, and other composers of diverse lineage in the late nineteenth cen-
tury, pentatonicism with its related techniques opened up new creative possibilities”
(“Sophisticated Primitivism: The Significance of Pentatonicism in Dvor¤ák’s American
Quartet,” Current Musicology 24 [1977]: 35). Most egregiously, the rosters of representative
composers in New Grove and Beveridge are typical in their omission of Liszt, one of the
most enterprising pentatonicists of the entire century.
4 Jacques Chailley cites a dozen or so pentatonic passages from Chopin, Mendelssohn,
Liszt, Moussorgsky, Rimsky-Korsakov, and Fauré, and more from Dvor¤ák, Debussy, Ravel,
and a handful of twentieth-century composers (Formation et transformation, 111–28). He is
wrong, however, to have singled out Chopin’s “black-key” Etude, op. 10 #5, as the van-
guard of this pentatonic “renaissance,” and he fails to recognize the substantial category
of the religious pentatonic.
5 Ibid., 128.
6 Bruno Nettl, The Study of Ethnomusicology: Twenty-Nine Issues and Concepts (Urbana:
University of Illinois Press, 1983), 42.
7 Sin-Yan Shen, Chinese Music and Orchestration (Chicago: Chinese Music Society, 1991),
3; Francis Collinson, “Scotland, II. Folk Music,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and
Musicians, ed. Stanley Sadie and John Tyrrell (London: Macmillan, 1980), 17:70.
8 Trân Van Khe, “Is the Pentatonic Universal? A Few Reflections on Pentatonicism,” World
of Music 19, nos. 1–2 (1977): 83.
9 Chang-Yang Kuo, “The Pentatonic Characteristics of Chinese Folk Melodies,” in
Proceedings of the Second Asian Pacific Music Conference, 25 November–2 December 1976, Taipei,
Republic of China, ed. Dong Whan Lee, 18–21 (Seoul: Cultural and Social Centre for the
Asian and Pacific Region, 1977); William Malm, Six Hidden Views of Japanese Music
476 ❧ notes to pages 2–7
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986), 39; Martin Hatch, “Slendro,” in The New
Harvard Dictionary of Music, ed. Don Randel, 753 (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 1986).
Bence Szabolcsi has consequently advanced the notion of pentatonic styles, represented
throughout the world by six large musical regions (A History of Melody [London: Barrie
and Rockliff, 1965]).
10 Such nomenclature is routinely adopted with respect to other more strongly five-note
traditions as well, for instance the Javanese.
11 Strictly speaking, “diatonic” and “chromatic” refer to genera, which is to say, interval
structures, whereas the corresponding terms “heptatonic” and “dodecaphonic” refer to
note count per se. By contrast, the term “pentatonic” must serve both functions.
12 The minor pentatonic appears to be important in the music of early twentieth-century
composers such as Bartók and Stravinsky. Bartók and Kodály discovered its substantial use
in native Hungarian music. See Béla Bartók, Béla Bartók Studies in Ethnomusicology, ed.
Benjamin Suchoff (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1997); and Zoltan Kodály,
“Pentatonicism in Hungarian Folk Music,” trans. Stephen Erdely, Ethnomusicology 14,
no. 2 (May 1970 [1917]), 228–42.
13 Respectively, John Clough and Jack Douthett, “Maximally Even Sets,” Journal of Music
Theory 35, nos. 1–2 (Spring/Fall 1991): 163; David Huron, “Interval-Class Content in
Equally Tempered Pitch-Class Sets: Common Scales Exhibit Optimum Tonal
Consonance,” Music Perception 11, no. 3 (Spring 1994): 300; and Scholes, “Scale” (1983):
1622. Leonard Bernstein, without support, further declared this particular collection
“humanity’s favorite pentatonic scale” (The Unanswered Question [Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press, 1976]: 29).
14 Some of these have been summarized in Carol Krumhansl, Cognitive Foundations of
Musical Pitch (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 275–76.
15 Carl Dahlhaus, Studies on the Origin of Harmonic Tonality, trans. Robert O. Gjerdingen
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1990), 172. This condition is equivalent to that
of “well-formedness,” formulated by Norman Carey and David Clampitt, “Regions: A
Theory of Tonal Spaces in Early Medieval Treatises,” Journal of Music Theory 40, no. 1
(Spring 1996): 133. Eytan Agmon’s “coherence,” a similar but weaker condition, is also
satisfied (“Coherent Tone-Systems: A Study in the Theory of Diatonicism,” Journal of Music
Theory 40, no. 1 [Spring 1996]: 43).
16 Clough and Douthett, “Maximally Even.”
17 Huron, “Interval-Class Content.”
18 Robert Gauldin, “The Cycle-7 Complex: Relations of Diatonic Set Theory to the
Evolution of Ancient Tonal Systems,” Music Theory Spectrum 5 (1983): 39–55.
19 Paul Zweifel, “Generalized Diatonic and Pentatonic Scales,” Perspectives of New Music
34, no. 1 (Winter 1996): 142.
20 See Robert Innis, ed., Semiotics: An Introductory Anthology (Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1985), and especially Ferdinand de Saussure, “The Linguistic Sign,”
24–46, and Charles Peirce, “Logic as Semiotic: The Theory of Signs,” 1–23; Wilson Coker,
Music and Meaning: A Theoretical Introduction to Musical Aesthetics (New York: Free Press,
1972), 1; and Raymond Monelle, Linguistics and Semantics in Music (Philadelphia:
Harwood Academic Publishers, 1992). Charles Morris is quoted in Coker, Music and
Meaning, 1.
21 Gennaro Chierchia and Sally McConnell-Ginet, Meaning and Grammar: An Introduction
to Semantics, 2nd ed. (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2000), 5.
22 Coker, Music and Meaning, 31.
❧
notes to pages 13–15 477
Chapter One
1 Walter Kaufmann, The Ragas of North India (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
1968), 3, 404.
2 Harold S. Powers et al., “Mode,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 2nd
ed., ed. Stanley Sadie and John Tyrrell (London: Macmillan, 2001), 16:776.
3 The most recent such studies include John Clough, Nora Engebretsen, and Jonathan
Kochavi, “Scales, Sets, and Interval Cycles: A Taxonomy,” Music Theory Spectrum 21, no. 1
(1999): 74–104; René van Egmond and David Butler, “Diatonic Connotations of Pitch-
Class Sets,” Music Perception 15 (Fall 1997): 1–29; Eytan Agmon, “Coherent Tone-Systems:
A Study in the Theory of Diatonicism,” Journal of Music Theory 40, no. 1 (Spring 1996):
39–59; Norman Carey and David Clampitt, “Regions: A Theory of Tonal Spaces in Early
Medieval Treatises,” Journal of Music Theory 40, no. 1 (Spring 1996): 113–47; David Huron,
“Interval-Class Content in Equally Tempered Pitch-Class Sets: Common Scales Exhibit
Optimum Tonal Consonance,” Music Perception 11, no. 3 (Spring 1994), 289–305; George
Hajdu, “Low Energy and Equal Spacing: The Multifactorial Evolution of Tuning Systems,”
Interface 22, no. 4 (November 1993): 319–33; Jay Rahn, “Coordination of Interval Sizes in
Seven-Tone Collections,” Journal of Music Theory 35, nos. 1–2 (Spring/Fall 1991): 33–60;
John Clough and Jack Douthett, “Maximally Even Sets,” Journal of Music Theory 35, nos.
1–2 (Spring/Fall 1991): 93–173.
4 I paraphrase the title of William Kinderman and Harald Krebs, eds., The Second Practice
of Nineteenth-Century Tonality (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1996).
5 A good overview of hexachordal thinking, particularly as regards the significance of its
solmization syllables, is given in Lionel Pike, Hexachords in Late-Renaissance Music
(Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 1998).
6 Equivalently, hexachords “have the function of representing the range within which
coincide the surrounding intervals of fifth-related tones.” Carl Dahlhaus, Studies on the
Origin of Harmonic Tonality, trans. Robert O. Gjerdingen (Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 1990), 172.
7 See compositions in the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book (#51, #101, #118, #215) and
Burton’s Missa Ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la. Pike mentions other pieces as well in Hexachords,
192–210.
8 Johann Joseph Fux, for one, insisted upon the hexachord, and the system formed the
basis of Haydn’s choirboy education under Fux’s successor Georg Reutter (not under Fux
himself, pace Joel Lester, Compositional Theory in the Eighteenth Century [Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press, 1992], 171). Walter Schenkman has described vestiges of the
hexachordal orientation in Baroque music in “The Influence of Hexachordal Thinking
in the Organization of Bach’s Fugue Subjects,” Bach: The Quarterly Journal of the
Riemenschneider Bach Institute 7, no. 3 (July 1976): 7–16.
9 Daniel Harrison surveys this issue in Harmonic Function in Chromatic Music: A Renewed
Dualist Theory and an Account of Its Precedents (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994),
73–126.
10 Jean-Phillipe Rameau, Génération harmonique (Paris: Prault fils, 1737), 65, example VI.
11 Ibid., 66.
12 Johann David Heinichen, Der Generalbass in der Komposition (Hildesheim and New York:
G. Olms, 1969 [1728]), 745. Christoph Schröter’s octave is similarly disposed, as is
Francesco Gasparini’s. In contrast, Mattheson gives the straightforward 1–8 version that
has become the standard “rule of the octave”—unsurprisingly, considering his outspoken
opposition to hexachords. See F. T. Arnold, The Art of Accompaniment from a Thorough-Bass
(London: Oxford University Press, 1931).
13 Moritz Hauptmann, The Nature of Harmony and Metre, trans. and ed. W. E. Heathcote
(London: Swan Sonnenschein, 1893 [1853]), 34–38.
14 Richard Schwartz, “An Annotated English Translation of Harmonielehre of Rudolf Louis
and Ludwig Thuille” (PhD diss., Washington University, 1982), 47.
15 John Curwen, The Teacher’s Manual of the Tonic Sol-Fa Method, ed. Leslie Hewitt
(Clarabricken, Ireland: Boethius Press, 1986 [1875]), 114.
16 John Curwen, Standard Course of Lessons and Exercises in the Tonic-Sol-Fa Method of
Teaching Music (London: Tonic Sol-Fa Agency, 1880), reproduced in Bernarr Rainbow,
“Tonic Sol-Fa,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 2nd ed., ed. Stanley
Sadie and John Tyrrell (London: Macmillan, 2001), 25:606. The Kodály pedagogy
employs these same signals.
17 Simon Sechter, The Correct Order of Fundamental Harmonies, trans. C. C. Müller (New
York: Pond, 1880 [1853]), 22.
18 Schwartz, “Translation of Harmonielehre,” 194.
19 F.-J. Fétis, Traité complet de la théorie et de la pratique de l’harmonie, 4th ed. (Paris: Brandus,
1849), 2.
20 See, respectively, Robert Gauldin, Harmonic Practice in Tonal Music (New York: Norton,
1997), 34 (also Edward Aldwell and Carl Schachter, Harmony and Voice Leading, 2nd ed.
[New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1989], 9); Yizhak Sadai, Harmony in Its Systematic
and Phenomenological Aspects, trans. J. Davis and M. Shlesinger (Jerusalem: Yanetz, 1980), 3;
and William Mitchell, Elementary Harmony, 3rd ed. (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall,
1965), 6. Although all writers agree on the stepwise dependency of active tones upon sta-
ble tones, the precise characterization of that dependency varies. Sadai, paraphrased in
example 1.4, offers the simplest model, which is confirmed by Fred Lerdahl’s algorithm
for calculating melodic “attraction.” Sadai, Harmony, 4; Lerdahl, Tonal Pitch Space (New
York: Oxford University Press, 2001), 163. William Drabkin differs only in his additional
inclusion of an upward tendency for 2. “Degree,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and
Musicians, 2nd ed., ed. Stanley Sadie and John Tyrrell (London: Macmillan, 2001), 7:138.
Gauldin (Harmonic Practice, 35) and Aldwell and Schachter (Harmony, 9) further com-
plexify the model with an upward-tending 4 and the inclusion of motion from 5 to 8; this
latter motion will be taken up presently. Steve Larson also characterizes melodic tenden-
cies in terms of a triumvirate of forces: “gravity,” “magnetism,” and “inertia” in “Scale-
Degree Function: A Theory of Expressive Meaning and Its Application to Aural-Skills
Pedagogy,” Journal of Music Theory Pedagogy 7 (1993): 69–84.
21 Heinrich Schenker, Free Composition, trans. Ernst Oster (New York: Schirmer, 1979
[1935]), 30. See also his Counterpoint, trans. John Rothgeb and Jürgen Thym (New York:
Schirmer, 1987 [1910]): part 1, p. 94; part 2, p. 58.
22 Riemann continues, “Leaps are not, indeed, excluded in melody . . . but they entail
subsequent complete or at least, partial, filling up of the gaps by means of single-step pro-
gressions”; see his Harmony Simplified, or The Theory of the Tonal Functions of Chords, trans. H.
Bewerunge (London: Augener, 1896 [1893]), 18. See also Robert Wason, Viennese
Harmonic Theory from Albrechtsberger to Schenker and Schoenberg (Ann Arbor, MI: UMI
Research Press, 1985), 70.
23 Paul Hindemith, The Craft of Musical Composition, trans. Arthur Mendel (New York:
Associated Music Publishers, 1942), 188.
24 Allen Forte, Tonal Harmony in Concept and Practice, 2nd ed. (New York: Holt, Rinehart,
and Winston, 1974), 12.
25 Such “tonal gravity” clearly underlies the melodic descent of Schenker’s three Urlinien,
the necessity of which, however, has been questioned by David Neumeyer in “The
Ascending Urlinie,” Journal of Music Theory 31, no. 2 (Fall 1987): 274–303.
❧
26 Victor Zuckerkandl, Sound and Symbol, trans. Willard Trask (New York: Pantheon,
1956), 98.
27 The gravitational metaphor, as applied to stepwise dynamics, thus resolves a difficulty
observed by Carol Krumhansl, that of depicting temporal ordering in visual-spatial mod-
els of pitch-space. Cognitive Foundations of Musical Pitch (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1990), 111.
28 Lerdahl’s complete space contains an additional level comprising only 1 and 5; this
“fifth” level is omitted in his discussions of melody. See his Tonal Pitch Space, 47.
29 It will be noticed that I use “subdominant” to refer to a family of chords: ii, IV, and
their mixture versions. (I eschew the term “pre-dominant” as a chordal designation in
order to avoid confusion in the many instances in which I describe plagal progressions,
i.e., pre-tonic uses of these chords.)
30 6–7, both with and without the registral shift, may contain structural significance.
Neumeyer, “Ascending Urlinie.”
31 V. Kofi Agawu, Playing with Signs: A Semiotic Interpretation of Classic Music (Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press, 1991), 23.
32 Deryck Cooke, The Language of Music (New York: Oxford University Press, 1959): 154.
This oft-cited work offers many such interpretations of scale degrees and their combin-
ations, but it lacks the sort of explanatory grounding provided in my chapters 2 and 3.
33 This coda does not appear in the first complete draft of the symphony (which ends
some twenty measures earlier), and in fact, the corresponding theme of “religious consol-
ation” does not appear in the earliest versions of the program. Liszt’s widely circulated
piano transcription of 1833 and an undated program leaflet (no later than 1834) are the
first surviving indications of this Religiosamente, which was most likely added for a perform-
ance of December 1832. See editor Nicholas Temperley’s critical notes to Hector Berlioz,
Symphonie fantastique, vol. 16 of New Edition of the Complete Works (Kassel: Barenreiter, 1972),
204, ix. This historically significant cadence was preceded, though just barely, in Berlioz’s
own oeuvre by two minor works: his Rob Roy (composed 1831, performed 1833, rejected
and unpublished in the composer’s lifetime) and his song “Hélène” (composed 1829, pub-
lished 1830) contain two other early 6–8 cadences (see P226 and P231).
34 A. B. Marx, Theory and Practice of Musical Composition, trans. and ed. Herrman S. Saroni
(New York: Mason Brothers, 1852 [1837]), 290–91. The inner voices of the cadences in
table 1.1 likewise all display classical voice leading, with the single exception of the five-
voice Handel anthem HWV 251a.
35 The list in table 1.2 could be lengthened greatly with the inclusion of twentieth-
century and popular musics.
36 “Whatever else may be happening in a plagal cadence, one can be sure that the 6–5
connection is being made.” Harrison, Harmonic Function, 91.
37 With respect to the behavior of 6, hexatonic space (1–2–3–4–5–6–8) is also a viable
model. The 6–8 “step,” after all, embodies the chief distinction of both spaces, as the pen-
tatonic’s 3–5 already exists in the realm of triadic space. It is important to note, however,
as have Dahlhaus (Harmonic Tonality, 172) and others, that pentatonic space alone con-
stitutes a system per se, owing to the hexatonic’s “self-contradictory” disposition of step
sizes. See my Introduction.

38 The improbability of the succession 6–8 is attested to by Donald Tovey, writing on its
appearance in the main theme of the first movement of Tchaikovsky’s Symphony #5:
“Great harmonic distinction is given to this theme by its first note. Those who misre-
member it as B [i.e., 5] will learn a useful lesson in style when they come to notice that
this note is C and not B.” Essays in Musical Analysis, vol. 1, Symphonies and Other Orchestral
Works, new ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1981), 514.
39 This distinctive harmonization of the Dresden Amen reflects Mahler’s peculiar sensi-
tivity to the quasi-Gregorian theme. See chapter 3.
40 The ossia in example 1.24 is my transcription from Scott Joplin, “The Entertainer”
(Biograph BCD101, 1987). Samuel A. Floyd Jr. and Marsha J. Reisser have proposed an
African origin for ragtime pentatonicism. “The Sources and Resources of Classic Ragtime
Music,” Black Music Research Journal (1984): 51.
41 Echoes of non-classical 6 resound throughout the twentieth century, for instance in
sentimental popular songs like Richard Rodgers’ “Blue Moon,” with its final 6–8 cadence.
The nineteenth-century pedigree, however, is often overshadowed by more direct influ-
ences from folk and popular musics. See my Afterword.
42 The term is Deborah Stein’s, whose discussion of the subdominant, however, fails to
consider the possibility of 6–8. “The Expansion of the Subdominant in the Late
Nineteenth Century,” Journal of Music Theory 27, no. 2 (Fall 1983): 166.
6
43 The less common ii(5) –I / 2–1 does contain melodic motion to the tonic, albeit paral-
lel motion; more often the upward “resolution,” 2–3 will occur.
44 “This resolution [7–8] could itself imply a harmonic progression V–I; for this reason
the leading note may be thought of as the most characteristic melodic scale degree.”
Stanley Sadie, “Leading Note,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 2nd ed.,
ed. Sadie and John Tyrrell, 14:418 (London: Macmillan, 2001). Admittedly, even 7–8 tol-
erates a seemingly “mixed” chord such as viiø43 or viio43 (as discussed in the Dvo¤rák below),
but in general, cadential 7–8 presupposes dominant-tonic motion.
45 Leonard B. Meyer, Style and Music: Theory, History, and Ideology (Philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Press, 1989), 140.
46 For another salient, unharmonized 6–8, see the end of the Sanctus of Liszt’s
Hungarian Coronation Mass (P303).
47 See also Rimsky-Korsakov, Fairy Tale, in Sadko (P255).
48 The notion of a structural plagal cadence is, of course, patently heterodox. Arnold
Schoenberg, for instance, writes, “Plagal cadences . . . are only a means of stylistic expres-
sion and are structurally of no importance.” Structural Functions of Harmony (London:
Williams & Norgate, 1954), 14. This widespread view, though justified in the vast majority
of cases, surely needs further qualification with respect to the late nineteenth-century
repertoire.
49 Leonard B. Meyer, Explaining Music: Essays and Explorations (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1973), 117.
50 According to Kofi Agawu, such “ambiguity” exists only in the mind of the lazy analyst.
In my view, this position arises from a needlessly “strong” definition of analysis.
“Ambiguity in Tonal Music: A Preliminary Study,” in Theory, Analysis, and Meaning in
Music, ed. Anthony Pople, 86–107 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994).
51 Felix Salzer and Carl Schachter, Counterpoint in Composition (New York: Columbia
University Press, 1989), 398; and Curt Sachs, “The Road to Major,” Musical Quarterly 29,
no. 3 (July 1943): 386.
52 Bruno Nettl, “An Ethnomusicologist Contemplates Universals in Musical Sound and
Musical Culture,” in The Origins of Music, ed. Nils L. Wallin, Björn Merker, and Steven
Brown (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2000), 468.
53 Alexander Ringer, “Melody,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 2nd
54 Clifford Alper refers to the descending minor third as the “universal chant of child-
hood,” though with no further discussion or citation. “Early Childhood Music Education,”
in The Early Childhood Curriculum: A Review of Current Research, ed. Carol Seefeldt (New
York: Teachers College Press, 1992), 247. For the use of the minor third among sports
❧
crowds, see Cherill Heaton, “Air Ball: Spontaneous Large-Group Precision Chanting,”
Popular Music and Society 16, no. 1 (Spring 1992): 81–83.
55 Meyer (Style and Music, 167) describes nineteenth-century music as characterized by
“acontextualism,” in which “inheritance was to be replaced by inherence.”
Chapter Two
1 Lawrence Kramer, Classical Music and Postmodern Knowledge (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1995), 34. Edward Said speaks similarly of “exteriority” in his Orientalism
(New York: Vintage Books, 1979), 20.
2 See, for instance, Jonathan Bellman, Introduction, in The Exotic in Western Music, ed.
Bellman (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1998), xii.
3 This observation is made by Ralph P. Locke in “Constructing the Oriental ‘Other’:
Saint-Saëns’s Samson et Dalila,” Cambridge Opera Journal 3, no. 3 (November 1991): 268.
4 Jonathan Bellman, The Style Hongrois in the Music of Western Europe (Boston: Northeastern
University Press, 1993), 65. Or, as Miriam Whaples puts it, the stylistic “paradise” of the
eighteenth century prevented the longing for greener musical grass that would later lure
composers of the stylistically progressive nineteenth and twentieth centuries. “Exoticism
in Dramatic Music, 1600–1800” (PhD diss., Indiana University, 1958), 264.
5 Whaples, “Exoticism in Dramatic Music,” 264. More precisely, as Mary Hunter has
shown, it was the female exotic who inspired dramatic and musical sympathy, the musical
exoticisms reserved for the “general barbarity” of the exotic male. Mary Hunter, “The Alla
Turca Style in the Late Eighteenth Century: Race and Gender in the Symphony and the
Seraglio,” in The Exotic in Western Music, ed. Jonathan Bellman, 43–73 (Boston:
Northeastern University Press, 1998). Such barbarity, however, was generally comic, or
“parodistic.” Carl Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, trans. J. Bradford Robinson
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989), 304.
6 See Hunter, “The Alla Turca Style”; Bellman, The Style Hongrois, 13–45; Whaples,
“Exoticism in Dramatic Music,” chapter 2, “Turkish Music and ‘Turkish Music’ ”; and
Bence Szabolcsi, “Exoticisms in Mozart,” Music and Letters 37, no. 4 (October 1956),
323–32.
7 Bellman, The Style Hongrois, 12.
8 Bellman, Introduction, in The Exotic in Western Music, x.
9 Respectively, Szabolcsi, “Exoticisms,” 327; Susan McClary, Georges Bizet: Carmen (New
York: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 55; Derek B. Scott, “Orientalism and Musical
Style,” Musical Quarterly 82, no. 2 (Summer 1998): 327; Bellman, The Style Hongrois, 41.
Scott (“Orientalism,” 327) provides one of the most extensive lists of “Orientalist devices,
many of which can be applied indiscriminately as markers of cultural difference. . . . ”
10 Matteo Ricci, China in the Sixteenth Century: The Journals of Matthew Ricci, 1583–1610,
trans. Louis J. Gallagher (New York: Random House, 1953 [1615]), 335.
11 Ibid., 22.
12 “Elle est maintenant si imparfaite, qu’à peine en mérite-t-elle le nom.” Jean-Baptiste
Du Halde, Description . . . . de l’empire de la Chine et de la Tartarie chinoise, 4 vols. (Paris: Le
Mercier, 1735), 3:265.
13 “Mais en chantant ils ne haussent et ne baissent jamais leur voix d’un demi ton, mais
seulement d’une tierce, d’une quinte, ou d’une octave. . . . ” Ibid.
14 “Pour mettre le Lecteur à portée de juger des divers Accens musicaux des
Peuples . . . ”Jean Jacques Rousseau, Dictionnaire de musique (New York: Johnson Reprint,
1969 [1768]), 314. Du Halde’s section on music also reappeared nearly unaltered in Abbé
Prevôt, Histoire générale des voyages . . . (Paris: Didot, 1749), 22:379–85.
15 “Ils veulent qu’il n’y ait que cinq Tons dans leur Lu. . . . ”Jean-Philippe Rameau, Code
de musique pratique (New York: Broude Brothers, 1965 [1760]), 191.
16 See Jim Levy, “Joseph Amiot and Enlightenment Speculation on the Origin of
Pythagorean Tuning in China,” Theoria 4 (1989): 63–88.
17 Amiot’s translation is lost. See ibid., 64.
18 “L’un d’entr’eux le donne dans cet ordre . . . ordre des plus vicieux qu’on puisse
imaginer. Mais un autre Auteur le donne dans celui-ci, où manquent seulement deux
notes pour s’accorder avec notre gamme, aux rapports près des tierces, qui s’y trouvent
faux par les deux Tons majeurs de suite. . . . ”Rameau, Code, 191–92. Notice in these num-
bers the powers of 3; 13683 is no doubt a misprint for 19683 ⫽ 39.
19 “une Orgue de Barbarie, apportée du Cap de Bonne-espérance par M. Dupleix, dont
il a eu la bonté de me faire présent, & sur laquelle peuvent s’exécuter tous les airs chinois
copiés en Musique dans le IIIe Tome de R. P. du Halde . . . ce qui prouve assez que ce
dernier Lu règne depuis long temps dans la Chine.” Ibid., 192.
20 Pierre Joseph Roussier, Mémoire sur la musique des anciens (New York: Broude Brothers,
1966 [1770]), ix–x.
21 Ibid., 14.
22 Levy, “Joseph Amiot,” 70.
23 “Le vice de ce dernier systême des Chinois, & l’imperfection de leur gamme, dont les
lacunes semblent toujours attendre d’autres sons, font assez voir que ces deux singuliers
systêmes ne sont chacun en particulier, que comme des débris d’un systême complet, que
j’attribute aux Egyptiens.” Roussier, Mémoire, 33.
24 Joseph Marie Amiot, Mémoires concernant l’histoire . . . des Chinois, vol. 6, De la musique
des Chinois tant anciens que modernes (Paris: Nyon, 1780), 163. A summary of Amiot’s treat-
ise also appeared in the Musikalischer Almanach für Deutschland (Leipzig, 1784), 233–74.
25 “les Lettrés vulgaires.” Amiot, Mémoires, 6:161.
26 “Je puis dire qu’ils m’ont fort ennuyé, je souhaite qu’ils ne fassent pas le même effet
sur ceux qui se donneront la peine de les déchifrer. En voici quelques autres que je donne
notés seulements à notre manière. [¶] De tous ce que j’ai dit jusqu’ici, je conclus, et on
le conclura sans doute avec moi, que les Chinois sont énormément peu avancés dans un
art qui de nos jours a été porte [porté?] dans son plus haut point de perfection dans notre
France en particulier.” Ibid., 6:146.
27 Ibid., 6:184–85.
28 Charles Burney, A General History of Music, critical and historical notes by Frank
Mercer, 2 vols. (New York: Dover, 1957 [1776–89]), 1:46.
29 A similar notion may have inspired an observation made by Henry Timberlake regard-
ing certain Native American melodies, which are “extremely pretty, and very like the
Scotch.” Henry Timberlake, Memoirs, 1756–1765, ed. Samuel Cole Williams (Marietta, GA:
Continental Book Co., 1948 [1765]), 83.
30 Burney, History of Music, 1:46.
31 Ibid., 1:51.
32 Ibid., 1:425.
33 “Cet air Chinois, ainsi que plusieurs autres morceaux de Musique Chinoise, n’est com-
posé que de cinq notes, et n’a pour élémens que ce que les Chinois appelent les cinq tons, et
qui sont ici sol la si re mi, dans lesquels il n’y a ni fa, ni ut.” Benjamin de Laborde, Essai sur
la musique ancienne et moderne (New York: AMS Press, 1978 [1780]), vol. 1, book 1, p. 146.
34 Hector Berlioz, The Art of Music and Other Essays, trans. from A travers Chants and ed.
Elizabeth Csicsery-Rónay (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994), 246.
❧
35 Berlioz’s involvement with Scottish pentatonicism (well before the quoted episode) is
noted below.
36 F.-J. Fétis, Music Explained to the World, ed. Bernarr Rainbow (Clarabricken, Ireland:
Boethius Press, 1985 [1844]), 24. See also idem, Traité complet de la théorie et de la pratique
de l’harmonie, 4th ed. (Paris: Brandus, 1849), 248.
37 “Le phénomène le plus singulier.” F.-J. Fétis, Histoire générale de la musique (Paris:
Firmin Didot, 1869), 1:78.
38 “ . . . méconnu la nécessité de ce même intervalle du demi-ton, sans lequel il n’y a pas
d’art musical possible, pas d’émotion sentimentale éveillée par la mélodie, pas de modulation,
aucun moyen d’éviter le retour incessant des mêmes formes et, par suite, la monotonie.” Ibid.
39 Engel himself implies that the term is his invention, and the Oxford English
Dictionary concurs. Carl Engel, The Music of the Most Ancient Nations (London: Reeves,
1909 [1864]), 15. The scale first appears as an entry in Continental music dictionaries
soon after: Mendel’s 1874 Musikalisches Conversations Lexikon lists the “Fünf-Tonleiter oder
fünfstufige Tonleiter” and, like Engel, associates it with such ancient civilizations as the
Assyrians, Chaldeans and Egyptians, as well as the Chinese and Celts. Riemann invokes
this terminology until the 7th ed. of his Musik-Lexikon (Leipzig: Max Hesse, 1909), in
which he adopts a Germanization of Engel’s term, “Fünfstufige (pentatonische)
Tonleitern.” Meanwhile, however, Schuberth’s Musikalisches Conversations-Lexikon (Leipzig:
Schuberth, 1892) reveals the novelty of both terms: they are not only absent as entries but
even as descriptors within the entry “Tonleiter,” which in fact illustrates a pentatonic scale,
naming it only with respect to its associated nationalities (Chinese, Indian, New Zealand,
and Scottish). The earliest mention of pentatonicism I have found in French dictionaries
is as late as Brenet’s 1926 Dictionnaire pratique et historique de la musique (Paris: Armand
Colin), s.v. “Gamme” (“La g. pentaphonique ou le g. de cinq sons . . .”).
40 Engel, Most Ancient Nations : 124–75.
41 Ibid., 134.
42 Could this sense of authenticity have motivated Weckerlin to “correct” Lully’s non-
pentatonic Turkish scene (ex. 2.1, above)?
43 Joseph Yasser claims that pentatonicism “has its roots deep down in the subconscious
human mind at a certain stage of musical development, and probably represents one of
the organic forms of musical perception and musical thought in general.” A Theory of
Evolving Tonality (New York: American Library of Musicology, 1932), 40. According to
Yasser’s and others’ views, musical systems naturally evolve through the accumulation of
new notes. Thus, certain infrapentatonic formulas—for instance the minor third dyad, or
the three-note “Celtic beginning”—represent the “first music,” with the pentatonic, the
diatonic, and the chromatic following in historical succession. Brailoiu and Sachs attrib-
ute a deep psychic significance to the simplest of these scales, imagining their “ontogenic”
origin in a sort of universal collective unconscious, what Szabolcsi has called a “musical
‘primary thought’ of mankind.” See Constantin Brailoiu, “Concerning a Russian Melody,”
in Problems of Ethnomusicology, trans. and ed. A. L. Lloyd, (New York: Cambridge University
Press, 1984), 259–83; Curt Sachs, The Rise of Music in the Ancient World, East and West (New
York: Norton, 1943); and Bence Szabolcsi, “Five-Tone Scales and Civilization,” Acta
Musicologica 15, nos. 1–4 (1943): 24. “Our children continue to repeat melodic embryos
that we did not teach them but which, like them, the inhabitants of Oceania, the Eskimos,
and the black races know. . . . They defy space.” Brailoiu, Problems of Ethnomusicology, 129.
44 Alexander Ellis, “On the Musical Scales of Various Nations,” Journal of the Society of Arts
33, no. 688 (March 27, 1885): 526.
45 Hugo Riemann, Catechism of Musical History, translator unknown (London: Augener,
1892 [1888]), 59–60.
46 “Eine Stellung oder Reihe von fünff Saiten. . . . ”Johann Gottfried Walther,
Musikalisches Lexicon (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1953 [1732]), 471.
47 Burney, History of Music, 1:49.
48 See Rameau’s unremarkable Les Paladins, III/2 (“Air pour les Pagodes”) and III/4
(“Entrée des Chinois”).
49 The fate of the f lay next with Hindemith, who retained the note, even capitalizing
on its tonal disruptiveness, in the Symphonic Metamorphoses on Themes of Carl Maria von
Weber.
50 Kii-Ming Lo, “In Search for a Chinese Melody: Tracing the Source of Weber’s Musik zu
Turandot, Op. 37,” in Tradition and Its Future in Music: Report of SIMS 1990 Osaka, ed.
International Musicological Society (Tokyo: Mita Press, 1991), 515.
51 Carl Maria von Weber, Writings on Music, trans. Martin Cooper and ed. John Warrack
(New York: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 171.
52 The connection was first pointed out by Ralph P. Locke, “Cutthroats and Casbah
Dancers, Muezzins and Timeless Sands: Musical Images of the Middle East,” in The Exotic
in Western Music, ed. Jonathan Bellman (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1998), 109.
53 “GAMMES / Des Montées et des Descentes / Deux Gammes Chinoises, suivies / d’une mélodie
analogue / Le tout dédié à mon ami / M. Jobart Millionnaire / (Toujours de la Blague) /
Rossini, 1867.” Quoted in Gioacchino Rossini, Mélodies françaises: French Songs for Voice and
Piano, English translations by Robert Hess (Melville, NY: Belwin Mills, 1981), iv.
54 Although Rossini writes of “deux gammes chinoises,” he refers simply to the whole-
tone scale in its ascending and descending forms.
55 Earlier, less ambitious Expositions occurred in London (1851) and Paris (1855).
Elaine Brody, Paris—The Musical Kaleidescope, 1870–1925 (New York: George Braziller,
1987), 78ff.
56 “Rome n’est plus dans Rome, le Caire n’est plus en Egypte, ni l’île de Java dans les
Indes orientales. Tout cela est venu au Champ de Mars, sur l’Esplanade des Invalides et
au Trocadéro.” Julien Tiersot, Musiques pittoresques: Promenades musicales à l’Exposition de
1889 (Paris: Fischbacher, 1889), 1.
57 Glenn Watkins, Pyramids at the Louvre: Music, Culture, and Collage from Stravinsky to the
Postmodernists (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 1994), 19, 21.
58 Quoted in ibid., 60.
59 Letter to Pierre Louÿs (January 22, 1895). Debussy Letters, ed. François Lesure, trans.
and ed. Roger Nichols (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1987), 76.
60 Article in the Société Internationale de Musique (February 15, 1913). Translated in Debussy
on Music: The Critical Writings of the Great French Composer Claude Debussy, trans. Richard
Langham Smith, ed. François Lesure and Richard Langham Smith (Ithaca, NY: Cornell
61 Which is not to deny the considerable importance of exotic subjects in Debussy’s oeu-
vre—not least in the cover art that he helped choose for his editions. Brody, Paris, 63.
62 Mervyn Cooke, “ ‘The East in the West’: Evocations of the Gamelan in Western Music,”
in The Exotic in Western Music, ed. Jonathan Bellman (Boston: Northeastern University
Press, 1998), 260.
63 Constantin Brailoiu, “Pentatony in Debussy’s Music,” in Studia memoriae Belae Bartók
sacra, ed. Benjamin Rajeczky, 377–417 (New York: Boosey and Hawkes, 1959).
64 The aria was replaced in the opera’s 1734 revision.
65 Note as well the mutual support of the siciliano rhythms and the proto-pentatonic
neighbor notes.
66 One of the most popular “rustic” instruments to be cultivated by educated (often
noble) Europeans in the eighteenth century was the musette, a simple bagpipe whose
❧
range described a ninth from 5 to 6—a heptatonic instrument, but one that necessarily
brought 6–5 into relief.
67 John Hawkins, A General History of the Science and Practice of Music, 2 vols. (New York: Dover,
1963 [1853; 1776]), 1:3n. Tartini actually describes the octave (in “the usual Italian solfeg-
gio”) as ut, re, mi, fa, sol, re, mi, fa. Enrico Fubini, ed., Music and Culture in Eighteenth-Century
Europe: A Sourcebook, trans. Wolfgang Fries, Lisa Gasbarrone, and Michael Louis Leone, trans-
lation ed. Bonnie J. Blackburn (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 145.
68 See chapter 1.
69 Josef Pöschl, Jagdmusik: Kontinuität und Entwicklung in der europäischen Geschichte
(Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1997), 245–46.
70 Alexander Ringer, “The Chasse as a Musical Topic of the 18th Century,” Journal of the
American Musicological Society 6, no. 2 (Summer 1953): 159.
71 This theme appears elsewhere in the piece (m. 51) with the inclusion of the horn’s
seventh harmonic, 7, in an inner voice.
72 Max Peter Baumann, “Switzerland, II. Folk Music,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music
and Musicians, ed. Stanley Sadie (London: Macmillan, 1980), 18:421.
73 The melody is cited in the same article, “Musique,” that contained Du Halde’s air.
Rousseau, Dictionnaire, 314. In this case, however, the domestication of the ranz in P67 can-
not be blamed on Rousseau, who faithfully transmitted the Lydian f, pace Grétry.
74 In literature on Rossini’s opera, reference is often made to a ranz des vaches, but one
rarely knows which ranz is meant, the borrowed one or the composed ones.
75 The flexible harmonic language of Janequin, for instance, even allowed for calling
thirds below the local tonic; see his La Chasse (Secunda pars, from m. 115).
76 Don Randel, “Emerging Triadic Tonality in the Fifteenth Century,” Musical Quarterly
57, no. 2 (January 1971): 73–86.
77 One notable exception is Berio’s Cries of London.
78 Athanasius Kircher, Musurgia Universalis, 2 vols. (Hildesheim and New York: G. Olms,
1970 [1650]), 1:xiv. See also Matthew Head, “Birdsong and the Origins of Music,” Journal
of the Royal Musical Association 122, no. 1 (1997): esp. 13–14; Edward A. Armstrong,
A Study of Bird Song, 2nd ed. (New York: Dover, 1973); Hawkins, A General History, 1:2.
79 This piece was at one time attributed to Haydn. Other cuckoos include Lemlin, “Der
Gutzgauch”; Dacquin, Rondeau, “Le Coucou”; Kerll, Capriccio sopra il Cucu; Handel,
Organ Concerto #13 in F, ii; Bach, Keyboard Sonata, BWV 963, v, “Thema all’imitatio gal-
lina cuccu”; Saint-Saëns, Carnival of the Animals, #9, “Le Coucou au fond des bois.”
80 Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, 307.
81 Head, “Birdsong,” 20.
82 Transcribed from British Broadcasting Corporation, “Sound Effects Library”
(Princeton, NJ: Films for the Humanities and Sciences, 1991), disc 3, track 10.
83 The cuckoo clock represents a similar merging of calling genres. For instance,
Janequin’s Le Chant des oyseaux is intended as a reveil.
84 Wye Jamison Allanbrook, Rhythmic Gesture in Mozart (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 1983).
85 Quoted in ibid., 65.
86 Cuban montuno playing also features a “sixth degree emphasis,” which is no doubt
explainable in the same way. Rebecca Mauleón, Salsa Guidebook for Piano and Ensemble
(Petaluma, CA: Sher Music, 1993), 132.
87 Charles Rosen, The Romantic Generation (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,
1995), 116.
88 See also the “farewell” horn fifths in Beethoven’s Piano Sonata, op. 81a, “Les Adieux.”
89 See also the discussion in chapter 1, §C2, pp. 32–33.
90 See. for example, Francis Collinson, “Scotland, II. Folk Music,” in The New Grove
Dictionary of Music and Musicians, ed. Stanley Sadie (London: Macmillan, 1980), 17:70.
91 Burney, History of Music, 1:48. Later British writers (Crawfurd, Raffles) would make a
similar comparison between Scottish and Javanese music.
92 Hawkins, A General History, 2:563n.
93 Burney, History of Music, 1:45–46. Hawkins, A General History, 2:562n. Thomas Busby, A
Complete Dictionary of Music (London: R. Phillips, 1786). Hawkins’s rather vague descrip-
tions of Scottish pentatonicism are made more forceful in the posthumously published
annotations of the 1853 edition.
94 Letter from Burns to George Thomson, November, 1794, quoted in David Johnson,
Music and Society in Lowland Scotland in the Eighteenth Century (London: Oxford University
Press, 1972), 188.
95 Laborde, Essai, 2:419.
96 Gottfried Wilhelm Fink, Erste Wanderung der ältesten Tonkunst als Vorgeschichte der Musik
(Essen: Bädeker, 1831), 78ff.
97 Respectively, Fétis, Traité complet, 248; Fétis, Music Explained, 24. The second of these
scales corresponds to what Ernö Lendvai calls the “acoustic scale.” The Workshop of Bartók
and Kodály (Budapest: Editio Musica, 1983), 394.
98 Much of the information in this paragraph is based on Roger Fiske, Scotland in Music:
A European Enthusiasm (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1983).
99 James Porter, “Europe, Traditional Music of,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and
Musicians, 2nd ed., ed. Stanley Sadie and John Tyrrell (London: Macmillan, 2001), 8:430.
100 See Barry Cooper, Beethoven’s Folksong Settings: Chronology, Sources, Style (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1994); Fiske, Scotland; Johnson, Lowland Scotland; Karl Geiringer, “Haydn
and the Folksong of the British Isles,” Musical Quarterly 35, no. 2 (April 1949): 179–208.
101 Cooper, Beethoven’s Folksong Settings, 103.
102 Fiske, Scotland, 38. MacPherson’s fieldwork, however, may have been underestimated.
John Daverio, “Schumann’s Ossianic Manner,” 19th-Century Music 21, no. 3 (Spring 1998):
252.
103 Johann Gottfried Herder, “Extract from a Correspondence on Ossian and the Songs
of Ancient Peoples,” trans. Joyce Crick in German Aesthetic and Literary Criticism, vol. 3, ed.
H. B. Nisbet (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 155, 158.
104 Ibid., 3:158, 155–56.
105 Ibid., 160.
106 Quoted in R. Larry Todd, “Mendelssohn’s Ossianic Manner, with a New Source—On
Lena’s Gloomy Heath,” in Mendelssohn and Schumann: Essays on Their Music and Its Context, ed.
Jon W. Finson and R. Larry Todd (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1984), 138.
107 Fiske, Scotland, 44.
108 Todd, “Mendelssohn’s Ossianic Manner,” 138.
109 Charles Rosen, Introduction to Jean-François Le Sueur, Ossian: Ou les bardes (New
York: Garland, 1979).
110 Daverio, “Schumann’s Ossianic Manner,” 253. See also Todd, “Mendelssohn’s
Ossianic Manner.”
111 Fiske, Scotland, 142.
112 Ibid., 13.
113 The specifics of Berlioz’s program to Rob Roy (P226, P227) are not known, though
the pastoral resonance of this theme is attested to by its reuse in Harold en Italie, i: “Harold
aux montagnes.”
❧
114 Nicholas Temperley, “Musical Nationalism in English Romantic Opera,” in The Lost
Chord: Essays on Victorian Music, ed. Temperley, 143–58 (Bloomington: Indiana University
Press, 1989).
115 Eric Sams has exposed the Wunderhorn collection as largely inauthentic. “Notes on a
Magic Horn,” Musical Times 115, no. 1577 (July 1974): 556–59.
116 A. F. Thibaut, Purity in Music, trans. John Broadhouse (London: Reeves, 1882
[1825]), 38ff.
117 Respectively: Lucia Perkins, “Use of the Folk Idiom in Mozart’s German Operas,”
MM thesis (Memphis State University, 1991), and Daniel Heartz, “Mozart’s Sense for
Nature,” 19th-Century Music 15, no. 2 (Fall 1991): 107–15; David Schroeder, “Melodic
Source Material and Haydn’s Creative Process,” Musical Quarterly 68, no. 4 (1982):
496–515, and David Cushman, “Joseph Haydn’s Melodic Materials” (PhD diss., Boston
University, 1973); Kurt Dorfmüller, “Beethovens ‘Volksliederjagd,’ ” in Festschrift für Horst
Leuchtmann zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Stephan Hörner and Bernhold Schmid, 107–25
(Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1993); Virginia Hancock, “Johannes Brahms:
Volkslied/Kunstlied,” in German Lieder in the Nineteenth Century, ed. Rufus Hallmark,
119–52 (New York: Schirmer, 1996).
118 Timothy Rice, “The Music of Europe: Unity and Diversity,” in The Garland
Encyclopedia of World Music, vol. 8, Europe, ed. Timothy Rice, James Porter, and Chris
Goertzen (New York: Garland, 2000), 9.
119 Jan Smaczny, “The E-flat Major String Quintet, Op. 97,” in Dvo¤rák in America,
1892–1895, ed. John Tibbetts (Portland, OR: Amadeus, 1993), 239. I have chosen not to
dwell on Dvo¤rák, since his well-known pentatonicism has been discussed elsewhere. See,
for example, Michael Beckerman, “Dvo¤rák’s Pentatonic Landscape: The Suite in A
Major,” in Rethinking Dvo¤rák, ed. David Beveridge, 245–54 (New York: Oxford University
Press, 1996); and David Beveridge, “Sophisticated Primitivism: The Significance of
Pentatonicism in Dvo¤rák’s American Quartet,” Current Musicology 24 (1977): 25–36.
120 Barbara Milewski, “Chopin’s Mazurkas and the Myth of the Folk,” 19th-Century Music
23, no. 2 (Fall 1999): 113–35.
121 Letter to Titus Woyciechowski, Dec. 27, 1828. Chopin’s Letters, collected by Henryk
Opienski, trans. and ed. E. L. Voynich, (New York: Knopf, 1932), 47. Ashton Jonson
explains the oblique reference to a certain unflattering coat of Chopin’s, which apparently
provoked great teasing from his friends. A Handbook of Chopin’s Works, Giving a Detailed
Account of All the Compositions of Chopin, 2nd ed., revised (London: Reeves, 1908), 115.
122 Jan Steszewski, “Poland, II. Folk Music,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and
Musicians, ed. Stanley Sadie (London: Macmillan, 1980), 15:32.
123 Mark Devoto, moreover, has identified an emphasis on 6 as characteristic of nineteenth-
century Russian music. “The Russian Submediant in the Nineteenth Century,” Current
Musicology 59 (1995): 48–76.
124 Richard Taruskin, Defining Russia Musically: Historical and Hermeneutical Essays
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997), 3. Volga music, which was a chief inspir-
ation for Russian composers, is strongly pentatonic, as are other several other local tradi-
tions. See Gerald Seaman, History of Russian Music, vol. 1, From Its Origins to Dargomyzhsky
(New York: Praeger, 1967), 2.
125 Quoted in Vladimir Stasov, Selected Essays on Music, trans. Florence Jonas (London:
Barrie and Rockliff, 1968), 146.
126 Jim Samson, Music in Transition: A Study of Tonal Expansion and Atonality (London:
Dent, 1977).
127 Gerald Abraham, Studies in Russian Music (Freeport, NY: Books for Library Press,
1936), 12. This example is also notable for its exploration of the pentatonic scale’s tonal
weakness: it is difficult to know whether the theme’s cadence is half or full or, similarly,
whether the mode is the “common” major pentatonic or the Mixolydian pentatonic.
128 Locke, “Cutthroats,” 107.
129 Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, 304.
Chapter Three
1 Carl Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, trans. J. Bradford Robinson (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1989), 179. Examples of the religious pentatonic have been
observed in Liszt; see Márta Grabócz, Morphologie des oeuvres pour piano de Liszt: Influence du
programme sur l’évolution des formes instrumentales (Paris: Kimé, 1996); Serge Gut, Franz Liszt:
Les éléments du langage musical (Paris: Klincksieck, 1975). Grabócz’s study is a largely theor-
etical endeavor (rooted in Peircian semiotics) that takes the existence of the semantic cat-
egories for granted. I will bring to light more examples—primarily by Liszt, but by many
other composers as well—and, more importantly, I will elucidate their common aesthetic
and historical sources.
2 Immanuel Kant, Foundations of the Metaphysics of Morals and What is Enlightenment? trans.
Lewis White Beck (New York: Liberal Arts Press, 1959), 85.
3 Kant, himself avowedly agnostic concerning God’s role in human history, formulated
what amounted to an essentially secular and pragmatic ethics, an exemplar of the human-
istic “reduction of Christianity to morality” that Voltaire also endorsed. See Carter Lindberg,
“European Christianity Confronts the Modern Age,” in Christianity: A Social and Cultural
History, 2nd ed., ed. Howard Clark Kee et al. (Upper Saddle River, NJ: Simon and Schuster,
1998), 354. German Enlightenment theologians “worked to present a socio-ethical inter-
pretation of Christianity. They depicted Jesus as the great teacher of wisdom and virtue, the
forerunner of the Enlightenment, who broke the bonds of error (not sin!)” (p. 353).
4 Vilhelm Grønbech, Religious Currents in the Nineteenth Century, trans. P. M. Mitchell and
W. P. Paden (Lawrence: University of Kansas Press, 1964), 97.
5 Conrad Donakowski, A Muse for the Masses: Ritual and Music in an Age of Democratic
Revolution, 1770–1870 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1977), 112.
6 In France, the turmoil of the age of Napoleon at once destabilized the local churches
and engendered a renewed desire for ecclesiastical centralization, the so-called ultra-
montanism exemplified by Joseph de Maistre’s polemic: “In Europe there is no religion
without Christendom. There is no Christendom without Catholicism. There is no
Catholicism without the pope.” Quoted in Lindberg, “European Christianity,” 364.
7 Terry Tastard, “Theology and Spirituality in the 19th and 20th Centuries,” in Companion
Encyclopaedia of Theology, ed. Peter Byrne and Leslie Houlden (New York: Routledge,
1995), 602.
8 Donakowski, A Muse for the Masses, 137.
9 Quoted in Bruce MacIntyre, The Viennese Concerted Mass of the Early Classic Period (Ann
Arbor, MI: UMI Research Press, 1986), 54.
10 Karl Gustav Fellerer, The History of Catholic Church Music, trans. Francis Brunner
(Baltimore: Helicon, 1961), 161.
11 The anonymous critic quoted in MacIntyre may have been Joseph Richter (The
Viennese Mass, 53n128). Compare Liszt’s strong opinion on the matter: “Do you hear, at
the solemn moment when the priest raises the sacred host, do you hear the wretched
organist execute variations on Di piacer mi balza il cor or Fra Diavolo? O shame! O scan-
dal!” Quoted in Paul Merrick, Revolution and Religion in the Music of Liszt (New York:
Cambridge University Press, 1987), 221.
❧
12 MacIntyre, The Viennese Mass, 52.

13 “Parlons maintenant des corrections des Graduels et des Antiphonaires, qui se sont si
souvent renouvelées depuis le XVIIe siècle jusqu’à nos jours, et grâce auxquelles, presque
partout en France, notre plain-chant a été si complètement défiguré et mutilé, qu’il arrive
fort souvent qu’une personne habituée aux chants d’église de tel diocèse ne les reconnaît
plus si elle vient à passer dans un diocèse voisin.” Joseph d’Ortigue, Intoduction à l’étude
comparée des tonalités du chant grégorien et de la musique moderne (Paris: L. Potier, 1853),
171–72.
14 Cited in E. T. A. Hoffmann, E. T. A. Hoffmann’s Musical Writings, trans. Martyn Clarke,
ed. David Charlton (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 352.
15 E. T. A Hoffmann, “Old and New Church Music,” (AMZ, 1814), quoted in Hoffmann,
Hoffmann’s Musical Writings, 357.
16 Ibid., 370.
17 Alexandre Choron, “Summary of the History of Music,” in A Dictionary of
Musicians . . ., ed. John Sainsbury (London: Sainsbury, 1825 [1811]), lxv.
18 Donakowski, A Muse for the Masses, 149. D’Ortigue’s 1853 Dictionnaire liturgique, his-
torique et théorique de plain-chant (Paris: Migne) came on the heels of Lambillotte’s revolu-
tionary edition of the St. Gall MS two years earlier (in De l’Unité dans les chants liturgiques
[Paris: Vve. Poussielgue-Rusand, 1851]).
19 A. F. Thibaut, Purity in Music, trans. John Broadhouse (London: Reeves, 1882 [1825]),
8. Between Thibaut’s work and that of Witt, another notable German, Kaspar Ett, pub-
lished an edition of the chant in his Cantica sacra (Munich, 1827).
20 For convenience I cite the Liber Usualis (henceforth LU) throughout this section.
Benedictines of Solesmes, Liber Usualis (Tournai: Desclée, 1956). I do so despite the
potential anachronism: the LU was published only in 1894. Nevertheless, it represents the
culminating work of the chant revival described in the previous section. Where possible I
have confirmed my results against contemporary sources: Catholic Church, Processionale
romanum . . . (Brussels: Huberti-Francisci t’Serstevens, 1805); Cantus Gregorianus . . .
(Brescia: Weber, 1807); Graduale romanum . . . (Liège: Spée-Zelis, 1857); Graduale de tem-
pore et de sanctis . . . (Regensberg: Pustet, 1877).
21 Constantin Brailoiu, “Concerning a Russian Melody,” in Problems of Ethnomusicology,
trans. and ed. A. L. Lloyd (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 259–83. Lajos
Bárdos similarly identifies this incipit as the “psalmodic ternion.” “Natural Tonal Systems,”
in Studia memoriae Belae Bartók sacra, ed. Benjamin Rajeczky (New York: Boosey and
Hawkes, 1959), 223.
22 Michel Huglo, “Antiphon,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, ed.
Stanley Sadie, 1:473–74 (London: Macmillan, 1980). The bracketed and parenthetical
notes are optional, depending on the requirements of the particular text. For the psalm
tones, see the LU, 121–22.
23 Jacques Chailley, Formation et transformation du langage musical, vol. 1, Intervalles et
échelles (Paris: Centre de Documenation Universitaire, 1955), 116.
24 Finn Egeland Hansen, The Grammar of Gregorian Tonality: An Investigation Based on the
Repertory in Codex H 159, Montpellier, trans. Shirley Larsen, 2 vols. (Copenhagen: Dan Fog,
1979), 1:30. According to Egeland Hansen’s analysis, pentatonic structure exists in a great
many of the melodies found in the Montpellier Codex. See also Gustave Reese, Music in
the Middle Ages (New York: Norton, 1940), 160.
25 Choron, “Summary of the History of Music,” xxxv.
26 In the interest of clarity I have quoted mostly individual lines, with preference given
to complete phrases. The pentatonic effect will, of course, be considerably weaker in the
context of the full polyphonic texture.
27 The point has been made elsewhere, with varying degrees of prudence. Viret refers to
the “substrat pentatonique,” Chailley, to the “residue pentatonique,” of plainchant.
Egeland Hansen’s is a particularly meticulous examination. Jacques Viret, La Modalité gré-
gorienne: Un langage pour quel message? (Lyons: Éditions à coeur joie, 1996), 52; Chailley,
Formation et transformation, 116; Egeland Hansen, Gregorian Tonality, 1:30–146. John
Shepherd has interpreted medieval pentatonicism as a social text, “the articulation of an
ideal feudal structure.” Music as Social Text (Cambridge, UK: Polity Press, 1991), 107.
28 Harold S. Powers et al., “Mode,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 2nd
29 “Ici l’échelle des sons est bien notre gamme moderne d’ut majeur, mais la tournure
de la mélodie est fort différente, on peut s’en assurer par l’examen des fig. 11 et 12.”
Alexandre Choron and Adrien de La Fage, Nouveau Manuel complet de musique vocale et
instrumentale (Paris: Roret, 1838–39), part 2, vol. 3, p. 177. They observe in a footnote,
“The leading note of the dominant is avoided above all.” (In Choron’s fig. 11, a bass clef
is surely intended for the left hand, yielding imitation at the fifth.)
30 “Il est presque impossible d’expliquer d’une manière satisfaisante la modalité du
plain-chant.” Ibid., part 2, vol. 3, p. 182.
31 Kirnberger had even made a case for preserving the church modes in modern com-
position, but it seems that he was in the minority. See Joel Lester, “The Persistence of
Modal Theory,” chapter 8 in Between Modes and Keys: German Theory, 1592–1802
(Stuyvesant, NY: Pendragon, 1989).
32 “La musique religieuse comprend d’abord le plain chant . . . dérivant du système
musical des peuples anciens, différant essentiellement de la musique moderne, aujour-
d’hui défiguré par une exécution détestable et méprisé parce qu’on n’en comprend plus
les beautés.” F. Danjou, “Introduction,” Revue de la musique religieuse, populaire et classique
(1845, no. 1): 8.
33 E. de Coussemaker, Histoire de l’harmonie au moyen âge (Paris: Didron, 1852), 95–97. One
of his examples is a fourteenth-century chanson, “où la tonalité d’ut majeur est parfaite-
ment determinée.”
34 F. Danjou, “L’État actuel du chant dans les églises de France et des moyens d’en
améliorer l’exécution,” Revue de la musique religieuse, populaire et classique (1845, no. 2): 49.
35 “Doit-on chanter les louanges de Dieu sur le même ton qu’on emploie pour les pas-
sions humaines? . . . Des ecclésiastiques respectables et des prélats ont pris parti pour la
musique mondaine contre la musique catholique.” F. Danjou, “Introduction,” 11.
36 P. Couturier, Décadence et restauration de la musique religieuse (Paris: E. Repos, 1862).
Quoted in Donakowski, A Muse for the Masses, 150.
37 “Il est inexcusable d’altérer un plain-chant au point d’en détruire entièrement le car-
actère modal et de le faire passer sans plus de façon à l’état de mélodie moderne.” Adrien
de La Fage, Cours complet de plain-chant (Paris: Gaume frères, 1855), 534.
38 “La première est fondée sur ce principe, que les intervalles qui composent la gamme,
au nombre de huit, diatoniques et naturels, n’ont aucune relation nécessaire les uns avec
les autres, ni aucune affinité ou attraction entre eux. D’où il résulte que chaque degré
pouvant être le terme de la succession, emporte virtuellement l’idée de repos et d’un sens
complet. Telle est la constitution des systèmes de musique religieuse et particulièrement
du chant grégorien. . . . La seconde est constituée de manière que les degrés, les mêmes
que ceux de la tonalité du plain-chant, peuvent chacun donner naissance à deux nou-
veaux intervalles, l’un par la propriété du dièse, l’autre par la propriété du bémol; ce qui
porte à douze le nombre des sons compris dans l’échelle; ce qui porte également à douze
le nombre de gammes ou de tons appartenant à notre tonalité. Le mode de succession
entre les intervalles est déterminé par diverses affinités et attractions qui leur sont
❧
propres, et qui, si nous pouvons ainsi parler, les incitent, celui-ci à descendre sur le degré
inférieur, celui-là à s’élever au degré supérieur, un troisième à persister en lui-même
comme sur un point de repos. . . . D’où il suit que chaque degré isolé ne renfermant pas
en lui-même un sens complet, loin de pouvoir être arbitrairement le terme de la succes-
sion, il ne saurait être regardé autrement que comme élément de cette succession.”
D’Ortigue, Introduction, 19–21.
39 “Nous dirons que, par l’emploi fréquent de la note sensible, par la modulation qui
revient sur les principales périodes, par la cadence qui termine cette modulation, ce
Credo appartient à la tonalité moderne. . . . Nous ajouterons que ce Credo n’est pas dans
le premier mode du plain-chant, mais dans le ton du ré mineur.” Ibid., 178–79.
40 “C’est une habitude vicieuse, qui ne doit pas être tolérée.” La Fage, Cours complet, 217.
41 “En quelques endroits on ne descend que d’un semi-diaton au-dessous de la teneur et
l’on chant [Example] c’est une imitation déplacée de la musique moderne qui ne devrait
point être soufferte, puisqu’elle introduit un degré absolument étranger à l’échelle du
mode antique et amène, comme nous le verrons, bientôt d’autres altérations.” Ibid., 310.
42 Louis Niedermeyer and Joseph d’Ortigue, Gregorian Accompaniment, trans. Wallace
Goodrich (New York: Novello, 1905 [1857]), 52n1.
43 Hoffmann, “Old and New,” 373.
44 “Il advint que ce diabolus in musica, que cette chose qui, nous le répétons à dessein,
faisait horreur à la nature, faisait violence à l’organisation, et que l’art rejetait hors de sa
sphère; il advint que cet élément subversif, destructif de la tonalité ancienne, fut la base, le
fondement, la clef de voûte de la tonalité moderne. . . . D’où il suit que, l’absence de l’élé-
ment du triton étant la condition nécessaire et essentielle de la tonalité ancienne, et la
présence de ce même triton étant la condition nécessaire et essentielle de la tonalité mod-
erne, il y a entre ces deux tonalités incompatibilité radicale.” D’Ortigue, Introduction, 163–64.
45 See Thomas Christensen, “Fétis and Emerging Tonal Consciousness,” in Music Theory
in the Age of Romanticism, ed. Ian Bent, 37–56 (New York: Cambridge University Press,
1996).
46 “L’accent expressif, passionné, dramatique, est inséparable de l’attraction des sons, et
ne peut exister sans elle.” F.-J. Fétis, Traité complet de la théorie et de la pratique de l’harmonie,
4th ed. (Paris: Brandus, 1849), xlii.
47 Thibaut, Purity, 11.
48 Thibaut’s contemporary Hoffmann might have objected to such alterations on
acoustical grounds: in a large church, he claimed, “Any blurring of sounds by subtle
nuances or short passing-notes would destroy the strength of the vocal line by making it
unclear.” Hoffmann, “Old and New,” 358.
49 “Les Belles Lettres recommencérent à fleurir dans le Royaume il y a 200. ans, c’est-à-
dire, sous le régne de François I. mais le Chant d’Eglise ne parut point recevoir alors
beaucoup de perfection. Pendant que la barbarie disparoissoit peu à peu dans les
Colléges, certaines voix difficiles à fléchir corrompirent dans les Choeurs de plusieurs
Eglises la douceur des Psalmodies Grégoriennes. Ces Chantres de l’espéce de celui que
Théodulfe Evêque d’Orléans appelloit au neuviéme siécle Vox taurina, sentant qu’à la fin
de certaines terminaisons psalmodiques il leur étoit plus commode de descendre par une
tierce que par dégrés conjoints, changérent les progrès de secondes en tierces; par éxem-
ple. [Example] . . . Et comme les demitons leurs paroissoients plus difficiles dans la pra-
tique à cause de la rudesse de leur voix, ils firent à la médiation du même septiéme mode
le changement qui suit: au lieu de dire comme on avoit fait auparavant dans Dixit
Dominus [Example] . . . ils dirent [Example].” Abbé Jean Lebeuf, Traité historique et pra-
tique sur le chant ecclésiastique (Geneva: Minkoff, 1972 [1741]), 106–7. In fact, Lebeuf’s pre-
ferred psalmodic cadences correspond to those of later books, including the LU.
50 “Il y a une autre formule d’oraison fériale qui ne diffère de la précédente que par une
chute de tierce mineure, pratiquée sur la dernière syllabe de l’oraison et sur la dernière
de la conclusion. [Example] On fait aussi, à volonté, l’inflexion de tierce au Dominus
vobiscum. Cette seconde formule fériale a souvent été altérée de la manière suivante, qui
ne mérite nulle approbation.” La Fage, Cours complet, 212.
51 “Lorsque le Pater se récite à la fin des nocturnes et dans quelques autres cas, on n’en
prononce à haute voix que les premiers et les derniers mots en faisant sur la dernière syl-
labe une inflexion de tierce mineure, reproduite dans la conclusion du choeur.
[Example] La seconde conclusion est mauvaise.” Ibid., 217.
52 “Des quatre inchoations du Magnificat, la troisième nous semble la meilleure; les deux
premières sont tolérables, mais la diaptose placée à la fin de la quatrième, lui donne un
aspect tout à fait ridicule.” Ibid., 297–98.
53 “Le si est évidemment une note de passage, qu’on y a arbitrairement introduite.”
N. A. Janssen, Les Vrais Principes du chant grégorien (Malines, Belgium: Hanicq, 1845), 142.
54 “Les deux semi-brèves sont encore des notes de remplissage: et, par conséquent, elles
constituent une faute.” Ibid., 141.
55 Ibid., 163.
56 “On voit donc que c’est dénaturer complétement les successions de cette espèce que
de donner à toutes les notes la même valeur; car dans l’exemple dont il s’agit le chant
repose sur ces notes: [Example]; les autres n’en sont que l’ornement.” F.-J. Fétis, “Des
Origines du plain-chant ou chant ecclésiastique, Cinquième article,” Revue de la musique
religieuse, populaire et classique 7 (July 1846): 233.
57 “On y verra que la simplicité du chant primitif, si bien conçue par le compositeur, en
raison de l’étendue de l’hymne et de la quantité des paroles, a été gâtée par une multi-
tude de notes parasites, qui rendent le chant languissant et monotone dans cette édi-
tion. . . . Par exemple, qui ne sera désagréablement affecté en voyant remplacer cette
forme si simple et si noble: [Example] par cette redondance de notes? [Example] Tout le
Gloria des éditions françaises est rempli d’absurdités du même genre; quelquefois même
il n’y a aucun rapport entre la forme du chant ancien et celle du moderne. Je prendrai
pour exemple ce passage: [Example] que les éditeurs ont changé en celui-ci. . . . ”
F.-J. Fétis, “Des Origines du plain-chant ou chant ecclésiastique, Septième article,” Revue
de la musique religieuse, populaire et classique (December 1846): 418–20.
58 “En liant deux notes sur la première syllabe du premier alleluia, et deux autres sur la
troisième syllabe, ils ôtent la grâce naturelle de ce passage. . . . A l’égard du second
alleluia, il n’est personne qui ne soit en état de voir que toutes ces notes liées par inter-
valles de secondes donnent une forme plate, en comparaison de celle du chant original.
Il en est de même du troisième alleluia, qui est un modèle d’élégance dans le chant
ancien, et dont la forme est fastidieuse dans les éditions françaises.” F.-J. Fétis, “Des
Origines du plain-chant ou chant ecclésiastique, Sixième article,” Revue de la musique
religieuse, populaire et classique (September 1846): 317.
59 Fétis, “Des Origines . . ., Septième article,” 421.
60 The connection between pentatonicism and chant, however, would be made later in
the century, apparently first in Hugo Riemann, “Fünfstufige Tonleitern,” in Musik-Lexikon,
1st ed., 279 (Leipzig: Verlag des Bibliographischen Instituts, 1882).
61 I have not attempted to establish concrete links between theorists and composers;
such an endeavor would be both precarious and, I feel, ultimately unnecessary. It should
nevertheless be mentioned in this regard that Liszt expressed enthusiasm toward
D’Ortigue’s work, and that Berlioz was likewise impressed enough with the ideas of his
friend and colleague (albeit not without reservation) to devote an article in the Journal
des débats to the subject. See Merrick Revolution and Religion, 91–93; and Hector Berlioz,
❧
“On Church Music by Joseph d’Ortigue,” in The Art of Music and Other Essays, trans. and ed.
Elizabeth Csicsery-Rónay, 172–75 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994).
62 Richard Brettell and Caroline Brettell, Painters and Peasants in the Nineteenth Century
(Geneva: Skira, 1983), 101.
63 Ibid., 75.
64 Thibaut, Purity, 37–38.
65 Hoffmann, “Old and New,” 373.
66 Quoted in Donakowski, A Muse for the Masses, 144.
67 “En effet, le plain-chant est la mélodie de tous, intelligible pour tous, en même temps
qu’il exprime fidèlement et avec plus de puissance que tous les autres chants, la longue
prière de l’Eglise militante et les graves pensées des coeurs éloignés de leur patrie.” My
translation from passage quoted in Merrick, Revolution and Religion: 90.
68 F.-J. Fétis, Esquisse de l’histoire de l’harmonie, trans. and ed. Mary Arlin (Stuyvesant, NY:
Pendragon, 1994 [1840]), 33.
69 From Fetis’s Traité de l’harmonie, quoted by the editor in Fétis, Esquisse, xiii.
70 Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Idea, trans. Jill Berman, ed. David Berman
(London: Dent, 1995), 119–20.
71 Ibid., 147.
72 This despite the non-isomorphism: while pentatonicism is, by definition, a subsystem
of diatonicism, the constructed meanings of each system relate not as comparable entities
but, ultimately, as opposites.
73 “L’idée de la succession se perd et s’absorbe à chacque degré dans l’idée de l’infini,
puisque la succession amène sur chaque accord le sentiment de la plénitude, de la durée et
de l’unité abstraite.” Joseph d’Ortigue, “Philosophie de la musique,” in Dictionnaire
liturgique, historique et théorique de plain-chant, ed. D’Ortigue (Paris: Migne, 1853), col. 1184.
74 “ . . . une musique langoureuse et sensuelle . . . les chansons amoureuses et . . . les
danses lascives. [¶]Au contraire, chez les rudes et sérieuses populations issues de la race
jaune ou mongolique, la musique, grave et monotone, étrange et dure pour des
Européens, est le produit d’un système de tonalité où le demi-ton disparaît très souvent,
et dont la gamme incomplète ne se compose que de cinq sons placés à des intervalles
d’un ton l’un de l’autre, avec les lacunes là où sont les demi-tons de la gamme appelée
diatonique.” Fétis, Traité complet, xxi–xxii.
75 See also chapter 2. The musical characterization of Carmen, famously, employs chro-
maticism as both exotic and seductive. See Susan McClary, Georges Bizet: Carmen (New
York: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 51–58.
76 These observations are not meant to call into question the vast majority of religious
pieces in the nineteenth century that do feature prominent leading tones and tritones.
The present explanations address chiefly the exceptions, rather than the customs, of musi-
cal practice. The “religious pentatonic,” in the end, is but one kind of religious expression.
77 The quotation, conveyed by a student of Liszt, is cited in Merrick, Revolution and Religion,
286–87. Merrick has documented many instances of the M2–m3 cell in Liszt, what he calls
Liszt’s “cross motif.” See chapter 14, “Liszt’s Cross Motif and the Piano Sonata in B Minor,”
in Revolution and Religion. Merrick’s religious interpretation of the Grandioso theme of Liszt’s
Sonata in B minor, however, is in my opinion undermined by the rhythm (and to some
extent, the harmony) of the theme, which suggests not the Gregorian incipit, but a trans-
posed repetition of a single major-second motive: 5–6 | 1–2.
78 Leonard B. Meyer, Style and Music: Theory, History, and Ideology (Philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Press, 1989), 288.
79 Jansen, Les Vrais Principes, 163. Franz Xaver Haberl, Magister Choralis: Theoretisch-
praktische Anweisung zum Verständnis und Vortrag des authentischen römischen Choralgesanges,
12th ed. (New York: Pustet, 1900 [1865]), 128. See also Catholic Church, Processionale
romanum, 6. Janssen’s tone for the absolution differs from the later LU, which gives the
cadence as b–c (LU, 132).
80 Structurally, this passage displays a vestige of classical protocol in the underlying 6–5,
as discussed in chapter 1.
81 Both of these functions involve “iconic” (i.e., depictive) processes, though the latter
mode is less direct in its signification, presupposing as it does the more or less arbitrary
notions of melodic “ascent” and of tonal gravity, as well as the (less arbitrary) correlation
of chromaticism with tension.
82 Another example of the Picardy sixth (P325) will be mentioned below with regard to
bass 6–8.
83 It is perhaps not too much of a stretch to also mention in this context that most famous
series of plagal cadences at the climax of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde. Here the erotic has
been elevated to the spiritual, through a curious convergence of chromaticism, plagal har-
mony (with prominent appogiatura sixths), and Isolde’s striking 6–1 (if not 6–8).
84 Niedermeyer and D’Ortigue, Gregorian Accompaniment, 14–16.
85 Ibid., 62, 77.
86 Grabócz (Morphologie) includes pentatonic religioso themes within her catalogue of
Liszt’s “isotopies sémantiques.”
87 One almost wonders if the Fauré “In paradisum” owes something to this passage, with
its soothing, repeated 6–5 appoggiaturas and empty downbeats.
88 Constantin Floros, “Die Faust-Symphonie von Franz Liszt,” in Franz Liszt, ed. Heinz-Klaus
Metzger and Rainer Riehn (Munich: Edition Text und Kritik, 1980), 70. Other writers
include Dahlhaus, Longyear/Covington, Redepenning, Monson, Walter, and Kramer.
Chapter Four
1 Serge Gut, Franz Liszt: Les éléments du langage musical (Paris: Klincksieck, 1975), 77.
2 Roslyn Rensch, Harps and Harpists (London: Duckworth, 1989), 158. See also W. H.
Grattan Flood, The Story of the Harp (New York: Scribner’s Sons, 1905), 156; Hans Joachim
Zingel, Harp Music in the Nineteenth Century, trans. Mark Palkovic (Bloomington: Indiana
3 Samuel Pratt, Affairs of the Harp (New York: Charles Colin, 1964), 20.
4 Quoted in ibid., 26. Elsewhere Beethoven complained that the piano “is still the most
unrefined of all instruments, since one sometimes thinks that one is hearing only a harp.”
Zingel, Harp Music, 26.
5 Pratt, Affairs, 21, 44. Nevertheless, we have no evidence that Haydn wrote for the great
harpist Jan Kr¤titel Krumpholz (Jean-Baptiste Krumpholtz), who was active at Esterhazy
between 1773 and 1776. H. C. Robbins Landon and David Wyn Jones, Haydn: His Life and
Music (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1988), 96.
6 William G. Atwood, The Parisian Worlds of Frédéric Chopin (New Haven, CT: Yale
7 See also Parish-Alvars, Fantasia on Themes from Weber’s “Oberon,” op. 59, m. 6; Grand Fantasia
on Donizetti’s “Lucrezia Borgia,” op. 78, end; and Grand Fantasia on Rossini’s “Moïse,” op. 58.
8 To execute an extended arpeggio of a simple three-note pattern, the harpist faces com-
peting limitations: using all eight digits, as is generally preferred, minimizes the number
of changes, or “placements,” of each hand, though using only six spares the fingers from
adjusting to a different intervallic pattern in each placement. I am grateful to Heather
Hoffmeister for her explication of fingering issues.
❧
9 “In its present state, the harp leaves much to be desired.” Nicholas Charles Bochsa,
Nouvelle Méthode de harpe, trans. and ed. Patricia John (Houston: Pantile Press, 1993
[1814]), 7.
10 Ibid., 18.
11 Hector Berlioz, Traité d’instrumentation et d’orchestration, nouvelle éd. (Paris: Lemoine,
1860?), 75.
12 Even with the advent of the piano’s double escapement (also by Érard) in 1821,
pianists could never hope to produce as quick a reiteration of a single pitch.
13 “On ne saurait croire les ressources que les grands Harpistes savent maintenant tirer de
ces doubles notes qu’ils ont nommées synonimes. Mr. Parish Alvars le virtuose le plus extra-
ordinaire peut être qu’on ait jamais entendu sur cet instrument, execute des traits et des
arpèges qui à l’inspection paraissent absolument impossible et dont toute la difficulté,
cependant, ne consiste que dans l’emploi ingénieux des pédales. Il fait, par exemple, avec
une rapidité extraordinaire des traits comme le suivant: [Example] [¶] On concevra com-
bien un trait pareil est facile, en considerant que l’artiste n’a qu’a glisser trois doigts du haut
en bas sur les cordes de la Harpe, sans doigté, et aussi vite qu’il veut, puisqu’au moyen des
synonimes l’intrument [sic] se trouve accordé exclusivement en suites de tierces mineures
produisant l’accord de septième diminuée, et qu’au lieu d’avoir pour gamme [Example] il a:
[Example].” Berlioz, Traité, 82. English translation based on Berlioz’s Orchestration Treatise: A
Translation and Commentary, trans. and commentary by Hugh Macdonald (Cambridge and
New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 77–78.
14 Respectively, Alphonse Hasselmans, “La Harpe et sa technique,” in Encyclopédie de la
musique et dictionnaire du Conservatoire, ed. Albert Lavignac, part 2 (Paris: Delagrave, 1927),
3:1937; Parish-Alvars, quoted in Floraleda Sacchi, Elias Parish Alvars: Life, Music,
Documents, trans. Howard Weiner and Maria Rosa Solarino (Dornach: Odilia, 1999), 189;
Carlos Salzedo, Modern Study of the Harp (Milwaukee: G. Schirmer, 1948), 5; Gertrude
Robinson, Advanced Lessons for the Harp (New York: Carl Fischer, 1913), 26; Engelbert
Humperdinck, Instrumentationslehre, ed. Hans-Josef Irmen (Cologne: Verlag der
Arbeitsgemeinschaft für rheinische Musikgeschichte, 1981 [1892]), 135; Robert Russell
Bennett, Instrumentally Speaking (Melville, NY: Belwin-Mills, 1975), 49.
15 Cecil Forsyth, Orchestration (London: Macmillan, 1914), 468.
16 Nicholas Charles Bochsa, Bochsa’s Explanations of His New Harp Effects (London:
D’Almaine, 1832), 74.
17 Hasselmans, “La Harpe,” 3:1940.
18 Hector Berlioz, The Memoirs of Hector Berlioz, trans. and ed. David Cairns (London:
Gollancz, 1969), 304.
19 Ibid., 347.
20 Sacchi, Parish Alvars: 12. Parish-Alvars is also mentioned briefly in Schumann’s
Tagebücher. Robert Schumann, Tagebücher, ed. Gerd Nauhaus (Leipzig: V.E.B. Deutscher
Verlag für Musik, 1971–87), 2:200, 259; 3:207, 337. Moya Wright includes Paganini among
the list of the harpist’s famous fans, though I have not seen this corroborated elsewhere.
“Elias Parish-Alvars. The Legend and the Legacy,” World Harp Congress Review 7, no. 1 (Fall
1999): 26.
21 Zingel, Harp Music, 64.
22 Quoted in Rensch, Harps and Harpists, 196.
23 See Sacchi, Parish Alvars, 19–22.
24 Isabelle Bélance-Zank, “The ‘Three-Hand’ Texture: Origins and Use,” Journal of the
American Liszt Society 38 (July–December 1995): 99–121.
25 See also Parish-Alvars’ Grand Fantasia on “Lucia di Lammermoor,” op. 79, for a still more

unusual downward glissando, d–c –b –a–g –f–e .
26 Parish-Alvars’ ascending added-sixth arpeggios always appear as a roulade, with 6–5,

rather than as a straight ascent. This may also indicate his observation of the habits of clas-
sical 6.
27 P380 represents a middle ground between arpeggio and glissando, an added-sixth set
fingered as a seven-note scale.
28 David Huron, “Interval-Class Content in Equally Tempered Pitch-Class Sets: Common
Scales Exhibit Optimum Tonal Consonance,” Music Perception 11, no. 3 (Spring 1994): 300.
29 For the given tuning, the only possible triadic glissandi are this triad and its parallel
minor.
30 See Liszt’s first Mephisto Waltz, 1 measure before rehearsal Hh, and his Dante Symphony,
i, m. 393.
31 François Auguste Gevaert, Nouveau traité d’instrumentation (Paris: Lemoine, 1885).
Gevaert’s earlier treatise was called Traité général d’instrumentation (Liège: Gand, 1863).
32 See Sacchi, Parish Alvars: 189. The method is, admittedly, fragmentary.
33 See also Ebenezer Prout, The Orchestra, vol. 1, Technique of the Instruments (London:
Augener, 1897); Ch. M. Widor, Technique de l’orchestre moderne (Paris: Lemoine, 1925
[1904]); Henri Kling, Modern Orchestration and Instrumentation, trans. Gustav Saenger (New
York, C. Fischer, 1905); Forsyth, Orchestration; and Hasselmans, “La Harpe.” Rimsky-
Korsakov did write glissandi on many unusual sets, including the pentatonic (see P387),
though his orchestration treatise mentions enharmonic glissandi only on “chords of the
seventh and ninth.” Nicolay Rimsky-Korsakov, Principles of Orchestration, trans. Edward
Agate, ed. Maximilian Steinberg (New York: Kalmus, 1912), 29. Kling included an added-
sixth glissando without comment (p. 51). The major added-sixth chord described by
Rameau, of course, is a different harmony altogether, even if the same sonority.
34 Further complicating the question is the incompleteness of biographical information
for Parish-Alvars: though he had composed (and, presumably, performed) up to opus 35
before ever publishing, his opp. 1–26 are lost, and we have only the dates of publication
for the rest. Sacchi, Parish Alvars, 10.
35 Personal communication from B. J. Leiderman, June 28, 2000. Whole-tone glissandi
(impossible on Leiderman’s keyboard, but effortless on the harp) have also been used in
film in this way. In either case, scalar difference is clearly the chief semantic mechanism
of “transport,” though the precise effect of each is quite different: the consonance of the
pentatonic glissando connotes the benign while the dissonance of the whole-tone glis-
sando connotes the mysterious or even the ominous.
Chapter Five
1 This passage calls to mind another remarkable ending, one at the opposite end of the
rhetorical spectrum: the climax of Tristan (in B major) features a similar rising triplet motif
and, more to the point, an emphasis on the sixths above E-major and B-major triads.
2 Constantin Brailoiu cites several instances of such mutations in Debussy, though none
convince me, and two are plainly wrong. Brailoiu’s excerpt from “Soupir” ends in mid-
phrase, omitting notes that weaken his point. His excerpt from “La Cathédrale engloutie,”
meanwhile, contains a misprint; in fact, Debussy’s original does not include the purported
mutation. “Pentatony in Debussy’s Music,” in Studia memoriae Belae Bartók sacra, ed.
Benjamin Rajeczky (New York: Boosey and Hawkes, 1959), 411–13.
3 David Kopp, “Pentatonic Organization in Two Piano Pieces of Debussy,” Journal of Music
Theory 41, no. 2 (Fall 1997): 261–87. A simpler, though less theoretically elegant deriv-
ation of the major scale is as a pair of pentatonic scales separated by a major second.
❧
4 Both scales had been used by Debussy prior to his attending the 1889 Paris Exposition.
Richard Mueller argues that Debussy was thus prepared to hear (and remember) certain
elements of those Javanese performances. “Javanese Influence on Debussy’s Fantaisie and
Beyond,” 19th-Century Music 10, no. 2 (1986): 157–86.
5 One of those common tones, b, does not occur in the octatonic melody itself but was
present in the fully octatonic texture of the prior measures.
6 Kopp, “Pentatonic Organization.”
7 Richmond Browne, “Tonal Implications of the Diatonic Set,” In Theory Only 5, nos. 6–7
(July–August 1981): 3–21.
Afterword
1 Randall Wheaton, “The Diatonic Potential of the Strange Sets: Theoretical Tenets and
Structural Meaning in Gustav Mahler’s ‘Der Abschied,’ ” (PhD diss., Yale University, 1988).
2 Ernö Lendvai, The Workshop of Bartók and Kodály (Budapest: Editio Musica, 1983), 15.
3 Béla Bartók, Béla Bartók Essays, ed. Benjamin Suchoff (London: Faber and Faber, 1976),
364, 342.
4 Gordon Cyr, “Intervallic Structural Elements in Ives’s Fourth Symphony,” Perspectives of
New Music 9, no. 2; 10, no. 1 (1971): 291–303; Jamary Oliveira, “Black Key versus White
Key: A Villa-Lobos Device,” Latin American Music Review 5, no. 1 (Spring–Summer 1984):
33–47; Daniel Harrison, “Bitonality, Pentatonicism, and Diatonicism in a Work by
Milhaud,” in Music Theory in Concept and Practice, ed. James M. Baker, David W. Beach, and
Jonathan W. Bernard, 393–408 (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 1997);
Richard W. Bass, “Sets, Scales, and Symmetrics: The Pitch-Structural Basis of George
Crumb’s Macrokosmos I and II,” Music Theory Spectrum 13, no. 1 (Spring 1991): 1–20. White-
key/black-key partitions of the 12-tone aggregate can be heard in Ives’s song “Majority” as
well as in Ligeti’s Atmosphères.
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Index
References containing musical examples are printed in boldface type. Titles of musical works
appearing in the Catalogue are accompanied by their corresponding “P” numbers in square
brackets, since the reader will sometimes find these works identified by number, rather than
by title, in the text itself. The reader may also find useful the Chronological Index of
Cataloged Examples, pp. 197–203.
absolute music, sacralization of, 133 arpeggiation, 19–21

acoustic scale, 183, 486n97; in Scottish arpeggio, 494n8; added-sixth, 25, 147,
music, 84 152, 156, 496n26, 496n27;
added-ninth arpeggio, 152 enharmonic, 151, 152
added-sixth chord, 25, 27, 141, 154, 156, Asian music, 9, 54, 55, 57. See also specific
164–65, 165, 166, 168–69, 496n33. See regions
also arpeggio, added-sixth; glissando, assimilation, 58
added-sixth augmented-seventh chord, 146–47
“Air ball!”, 42, 71 authenticity, 54, 87, 108, 483n42
Allgemeiner Cäcilienverein, 108
Alper, Clifford, 480n54 Bach, J. C., Keyboard Concerto, op. 13
alphorn, 68. See also horn calls; ranz des #4, 85
vaches; shepherd in music Bach, J. S., B-minor Mass, 29; Well-
alterity, 48, 481n1 Tempered Clavier I, #21, 19–20
Amen, 29, 133–34. See also Dresden bagpipe, 63, 484n66
Amen Balakirev, Mily, 92; Islamey: Oriental
America, aboriginal music of, 1, 482n29 Fantasy [P260], 92, 361; Overture on
Amiot, Joseph Marie, 51, 52, 53, 57 Three Russian Themes [P259], 92,
ancient music, European views of, 50–54 360
Anonymous, “Nova, nova,” 73; “Sumer is Barber, Samuel, Knoxville: Summer of
icumen in,” 75; “Tidingës true,” 73 1915, 186
anthropology, incipient in the Bartók, Béla, 183, 476n12
eighteenth century, 49–54, 55 Baumann, Max, 68
Antoinette, Marie, 146 Beethoven, Ludwig van, 80, 85, 90, 98,
Appenzeller ranz, 68, 71 146, 494n4
Arab music, 129 An die ferne Geliebte, 62
Arab-themed opera, 58, 95 Deutsche, WoO 13 #5 [P182], 81, 315
Arcadelt, Jacob, Ave Maria, 29 Écossaise, WoO 83, #1 [P184], 80, 315
Argento, Dominick, To Be Sung upon the “Eroica” Symphony, 23
Water, 187 Ländlerische Tänze, 81
Arnim, Achim von, 90 Missa Solemnis [P322], 135–36, 405
515
516 index
Beethoven, Ludwig van (continued) Alto Rhapsody [P293], 30, 134, 384
Piano Sonata, op. 79, 22 “Darthulas Grabesgesang,” op. 42 #3
Piano Sonata, op. 81a “Les Adieux,” [P223], 88, 335–36
485n88 “Der Abend” [P108], 74, 271
“The Pulse of an Irishman,” 86–87 “Gesang aus Fingal,” op. 17 #4 [P237],
String Quartet, op. 59 #2 [P43], 62, 235 88, 345
Symphony #6, i, 25 Liebeslieder Waltzes, op. 52 #3, “O die
Symphony #6, ii [P132, P159], 75, 78, Frauen” [P188], 82, 316
285, 302 Liebeslieder Waltzes, op. 52 #6 “Ein
Variations on a Swiss Song, WoO64, 146 kleiner, hübscher Vogel” [P144], 76,
Bellman, Jonathan, 48, 49 293–94
bells, 76–77. See also doorbell Liebeslieder Waltzes, op. 52 #13,
Berio, Luciano, Cries of London, 485n77 “Vögelein durchrauscht die Luft”
Berlioz, Hector, 53, 92, 150, 152, 155–56, [P129], 75, 282
492n61 Liebeslieder Waltzes, op. 52 #15,
Harold en Italie, 486n113 “Nachtigall, sie singt so schön”
Irlande, op. 2 #2, “Hélène” [P230, [P124], 75, 279
P231], 30, 88, 340, 341, 479n33 Neues Liebeslieder, op. 65 #8, “Weiche
Irlande, op. 2 #7, “L’Origine de la Gräser” [P201], 83, 322–23
harpe” [P232], 88, 341 Schicksalslied [P110, P294, P302], 30,
Requiem [P306, P307, P324], 30, 135, 34–35, 74, 134, 135, 272, 384, 388
136, 391, 392–94, 406 Symphony #2, 22
Rob Roy [P226, P227], 30, 88, 338, 339, “Wiegenlied” [P104], 74, 195, 270
479n33, 486n113 Zigeunerlieder #3 “Wisst Ihr, wann mein
Symphonie fantastique [P72, P292], Kindchen” [P95], 73, 264
28–31, 38, 71, 76, 82, 133, 248, Zigeunerlieder #5, “Brauner Bursche
382–83, 479n33 führt zum Tanze” [P267], 96, 365
Waverley [P233], 88, 342 Zigeunerlieder #9, “Weit und breit”
Beveridge, David, 475n3 [P268], 96, 366
Binchois, Gilles, “Adieu m’amour,” 41 Brailiou, Constantin, 483n43, 496n2
birdsong, 98. See also calls, bird Brentano, Clemens, 90
Bizet, Georges, Carmen, 493n75; Djamileh Britten, Benjamin, Prince of the Pagodas,
[P23], 60, 95, 97, 221; “Rêve de la 184
bien aimée” [P142], 76, 292 Bruckner, Anton, 17
black keys, 8, 55, 60, 84, 145, 156, 157, Ave Maria [P272], 130, 369
497n4 Mass in E minor [P276], 130, 373–74
Bochsa, Nicholas Charles, 150–51, 152, Os justi [P269], 131, 367
155; La Valse du feu, 151 Psalm 150 [P319], 135, 402–3
Boieldieu, François-Adrien, La Dame Te Deum [P274, P356], 130, 138,
blanche [P80, P81, P218, P225, P239], 140–41, 370–71, 438–39
71, 72, 88, 254, 255, 332, 337, 346 Burmese music, 54
Borodin, Alexander, 92; Prince Igor Burney, Charles, 52–53, 57, 84
[P243, P244], 92, 93, 349, 350; Burns, Robert, 84, 88
Symphony #1 [P247], 92, 353; Busby, Thomas, 84
Symphony #2 [P245, P246], 92, 351,
352 calls, 8, 9, 42, 64–79; bird, 75–76, 159
Bourgault-Ducoudray, L. A., 59 (see also cuckoo). See also horn calls
Brahms, Johannes, 37, 49, 90 canto fratto, 106
index 517
Capuana, Alessandro, 106 Nocturne, op. 27 #1 [P305], 30, 135,

Car Talk (NPR), 157 390
Chabrier, Emmanuel Nocturne, op. 32 #2, 32
“Ballade des gros dindons” [P181], 80, Nocturne, op. 37 #2 [P44], 62, 235
314 Nocturne, op. 62 #2 [P397], 156, 460
“Ivresses!” [P180], 80, 314 Prelude in D major, 23
Pièces pittoresques, “Menuet pompeux” Prelude in F major, 25–27
[P179], 80, 314 Rondo, op. 73 [P398], 156, 461
“Ronde gauloise” [P102], 73, 268 Waltz, op. 18 [P176], 25–26, 80, 313
“Toutes les Fleurs” [P206], 83, 326 Waltz, op. 34 #1 [P183], 80, 315
Chailley, Jacques, 2, 109, 475n4, 490n27 Choron, Alexandre-Étienne, 108, 110,
chant. See liturgical chant 113, 115, 116
chant sur le livre, 106 chromatic scale, 117–18, 124, 494n81
Chausson, Ernest, “Ballade” [P163], 78, church music. See sacred music
304; “Les Papillons” [P138], 76, 289; Clapton, Eric, 183
“Réveil” [P130], 75, 283 Clarke, Stephen, 84
Cherubini, Luigi, Ali-Baba [P6], 58, 212 Coleridge-Taylor, Samuel, A Tale of Old
children’s music, 42, 54, 78, 480n54. Japan [P34], 60, 228
See also lullaby consonance, 8, 9, 147, 152, 154, 158
Chinese music, borrowed by Western Cooke, Deryck, 24
composers, 57–58; European views of, Cooke, Mervyn, 60
49–54, 57, 58–59; heptatonic scale in, Copland, Aaron, 181
52; Lydian scale in, 53; as not Corelli, Arcangelo, Christmas Concerto,
pentatonic, 52, 53; pentatonic scale in, 126
2, 50, 51, 52, 53; similarity to Scottish, Cornelius, Peter
52, 54, 84; theory of, 51–52 “Abendgefühl” [P109], 74, 272
chinoiserie, 98, 183. See also Chinese music “Am Morgen” [P165], 78, 306
Chipp, Edmund Thomas, Twilight Fancies “Simeon” [P162], 78, 303
#2 [P167], 78, 307; Twilight Fancies #3 “Vorabend” [P100], 73, 82, 267
[P211], 83, 328 “Wiegenlied” [P121], 74, 277
Chopin, Frédéric, 25, 80, 91–92, 156, corps sonore (Rameau), 50
487n121 Corri, Domenico, 85; The Travellers [P3],
Ballade in A major [P169], 78–79, 57, 208
309 Council of Trent, 106
Ballade in F minor [P170], 78, 309 Coussemaker, E. de, 117
Berceuse [P120], 74, 276 Couturier, P., 117
3 Écossaises, op. 72 #3 [P185–P187], Crawfurd, John, 486n91
80, 316 cries. See calls
Etude, op. 10 #5 [P394], 156, 459, Croubelis, Simoni dall, Symphony in D,
475n4 “Dans le goût asiatique,” 55–56
Etude, op. 25 #5 [P396], 156, 460 Crumb, George, 183
Etude, op. 25 #8, 30, 31 cuckoo, 75, 78, 485n79, 485n83. See also
Introduction and Rondo, op. 16 calls, bird
[P395], 156, 459 Cui, César, Prelude in A major, op. 64
Krakowiak [P242], 91, 348 #17 [P412], 156, 471
Mazurka, op. 50 #3 [P45], 62, 235 Curwen, John, 16
Nocturne, op. 9 #1 [P62], 68, 244 Czech folk music, 91
Nocturne, op. 9 #3 [P393], 156, 458 Czerny, Carl, 152
518 index
Dahlhaus, Carl, 76 Dumont, Henri, 118

dance music, 80, 88 Dupleix, M., 51
Danjou, F., 117 Dürrnberger, J. N. A., 17
d’Arrezzo, Guido, 14 Dvo¤ràk, Antonín, 1, 9, 40, 91, 181,
Daverio, John, 88 487n119; Symphony #9 [P210], 38–40,
David, Félicien 83, 327
“Au Couvent” [P208], 83, 327
“Aux Filles d’Égypte” [P19], 60, 219 École Niedermeyer, 108
“Éveillez-vous” [P92], 73, 263 École Royale de Chant et de
La Perle du Brésil [P106], 74, 270 Déclamation, 108
Lalla-Roukh [P20, P21], 60, 96, 220 écossaises, 80
“Le Pêcheur à sa nacelle” [P111], 74, 273 Egeland Hansen, Finn, 110, 489n24
Debussy, Claude, 2, 59–60, 60, 159–60, Egyptian music, ancient, 52
160–81, 183, 484n61, 497n4 Ellis, Alexander, 54
Feux d’artifice [P414], 157, 473 Engel, Carl, 54, 483n38
Khamma, 168 English folksong, 88–89, 90
La Cathédrale engloutie, 496n2 Enlightenment, 51, 105, 121
La Fille aux cheveux de lin, 160–63, 164, Érard, Sébastien, 145, 147, 148–49, 152,
166 495n12
La Mer, 164–67, 167 Ethiopian music, 54
Le Martyre de Saint Sébastien, 158 Ett, Kaspar, 489n19
Les Collines d’Anacapri, 167 Exhibition. See Paris Exposition
Pagodes, 60, 158, 167, 171–81 exoticism, 1, 47, 49, 54, 91, 98, 481n5,
Printemps, 158 484n61, 493n75; as cultural critique,
Rondes de printemps, 168–71 59; as cultural hegemony, 59; defined,
Six Épigraphes antiques, 158 48; history, 48–49; musical devices, 47,
Soupir, 496n2 49, 57, 60, 91, 481n9; non-musical
Voiles, 168–69 means in opera, 48–49; and
Delibes, Léo, “Bonjour, Suzon!” [P207], pastoralism, 92–98; in visual arts, 48
83, 326; “Églogue” [P73], 71, 249 Exposition. See Paris Exposition
desire, transcended, 128–29 “Extra! Extra!”, 42
Des Knaben Wunderhorn (Arnim), 90,
487n115 farewell, 73
diatonic scale, 1. See also major scale; Fauré, Gabriel
pentatonic scale, and diatonic Barcarolle, op. 44 [P410], 27, 156, 471
D’Indy, Vincent. See Indy, Vincent d’ “En Sourdine” [P123], 75, 278
Dittersdorf, Karl Ditters von, 106 Messe basse [P320], 135, 404
dominant eleventh chord, 39, 160 Nocturne, op. 33 #2 [P409], 156, 470
Donizetti, Gaetano, La favorite, 104 Pièces brèves, op. 84 #7, “Allégresse”
doorbell, 78 [P408], 156, 469
Dorian scale, 84 Requiem [P270, P275, P300, P338],
D’Ortigue, Joseph, 107, 108, 116, 30, 99–105, 130, 135, 138, 367, 372,
117–19, 129, 137, 492n61 388, 418–25, 494n87
dream music, 98, 157 “Une Sainte en son auréole” [P354],
Dresden Amen, 132, 480n39 138, 436
drone, 63, 91, 130 Fétis, F.-J., 17, 53–54, 84, 119, 122–23,
Du Halde, Jean-Baptiste, 50, 51, 52, 57, 127–28, 129
58, 485n73 Field, John, 152
index 519
film and television music, 157 “Les Naïades” [P98], 30, 73, 266
Fink, G. W., 84 Messe aux Orphéonistes [P298], 135, 386
5̂–6̂, 8, 164, 485n66. See also 6̂, classical Messe brève in C major [P317], 30, 135,
behavior 401
5̂–3̂, 4, 8, 31, 130; as call, 8, 66, 74, 75 Messe solennelle #4 in G minor [P316],
5̂, 38, 134 30, 135, 400
flashback music, 157 Mireille [P64, P74, P103], 70, 71, 73,
Floros, Constantin, 138 245, 249, 269
folk music, collections of, 90; influence Requiem [P318], 30, 135, 401
on Western art-music, 90–92; as St. Cecilia Mass [P280, P291, P297,
superior to cultivated music, 87–88, P327, P353, P357], 130, 133, 135,
126 137, 138, 376, 382, 385, 409, 434–35,
4̂, 163 440
Franck, César, Piano Trio in F minor, Grabócz, Márta, 488n1, 494n86
op. 1 #1 [P413], 156, 472 Greece (ancient), and European self-
Franz, Robert, “Schlummerlied” [P115, understanding, 88, 105; music, 55;
P119], 74, 274, 276 music theory, 9, 50, 52
Fux, Johann Joseph, 116, 477n8 “Gregorian incipit,” 108, 113, 130, 132,
Fuxian counterpoint, 40 133, 493n77
Grétry, André-Ernest-Modeste, 68;
Gade, Niels, Comala [P51, P220], 30, 65, Guillaume Tell [P67], 71, 246, 485n73
88, 238, 333; Symphony #1 [P77], 71, Grieg, Edvard, “Bell-Ringing” [P152], 30,
251 77, 299; Peer Gynt Suite [P75], 71, 250;
gagaku, 2 “Vaaren” (“Spring”) [P145], 76, 294
Gasparini, Francesco, 477n12 Guéranger, Dom Prosper, 126
Gay, John, 85 Gut, Serge, 145
Geminiani, Francesco, 85 Gypsy music. See style hongrois
Gershwin, “Nice Work If You Can Get
It,” 189 Hahn, Reynaldo, “D’une Prison” [P156],
Gevaert, F. A., 155 77, 300; “L’Heure exquise” [P168], 78,
Glinka, Mikhail, 92; A Life for the Tsar 308; “Paysage” [P94, P209], 73, 83,
[P248–P250, P264], 92, 354, 355, 356, 264, 327
363 Halde, Jean-Baptiste Du. See Du Halde,
glissando, 496n35; added-sixth, 152, 155; Jean-Baptiste
black-key, 156; enharmonic, 149–51, Handel, G. F.
152, 155–57, 495n25, 496n33; anthems, 29
pentatonic, 92, 142, 152, 155, 157, 159 Il pastor fido [P40], 61, 234
(see also pentatonicism, pentatonic L’Allegro, il penseroso, ed il moderato
scale used as scale) [P128], 75, 282
Godefroid, Félix, Etudes mélodiques, “Les Messiah (various choruses), 29
Arpèges,” 146 Messiah, Pastoral Symphony [P49], 63,
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 87 126, 236
gothicism, 88, 105–6, 108, 116. See also The Triumph of Time and Truth [P48],
liturgical chant, restoration of 63, 236
Gounod, Charles Water Music, 65
“Choral” [P154], 77, 300 harp, arpeggios, 146–47, 150, 151;
Faust [P328], 137, 410 chromatic notes, 146, 148, 149, 150;
“Les Champs” [P97], 73, 265 double-action, 145, 148–49;
520 index
harp, arpeggios (continued) Hoffmann, E. T. A., 107, 116, 118, 126,

enharmonicism, 146–47, 149, 150, 152, 491n48
154; 19th-century repertoire, 146; not homophone. See harp, enharmonicism
a chromatic instrument, 146, 149; in Honegger, Arthur, Pastorale d’été, 188
orchestration treatises, 155–56; pedal horn calls, 64–68; horn fifths, 66, 68,
action, 8, 146; pentatonicism related to 485n88; hunting (topic), 68; as
other 19th-century pentatonicism, 156, Romantic, 68, 82; stylized, 68, 78,
158; rivalry with piano, 146, 148, 149, 485n71; underlying scale’s essential
494n4; scordatura, 155; single- and pentatonicism, 8, 68; vocalized, 71, 73.
double-action compared, 148, 152, See also alphorn
154; single-action, 148, 151; special Huglo, Michel, 108
effects, 149, 150, 152, 154; technical Hummel, Johann Nepomuk, 85
constraints, 147, 152, 494n8 Hungarian music, 476n12. See also style
Harrison, George, 183 hongrois
Hasselmans, Alphonse, 151 Hunter, Mary, 481n5
Hauptmann, Moritz, 15 Huron, David, 152
Hawkins, John, 64, 84
Haydn, Joseph, 66, 85, 90, 106, 107, 146, Impressionism, 54, 60, 92, 145, 158
477n8, 485n79, 494n5 Indian music, 53, 54
Die Jahreszeitzen [P52, P82, P166], 65, Indy, Vincent d’, Jour d’été à la montagne
66, 71, 78, 238, 256, 307 [P147], 76, 297; Symphony on a French
“Does Haughty Gaul,” 86 Mountain Air [P241], 90, 347
Missa brevis in F, 29 Institution de Musique Classique et
Missa brevis in G, 29 Religieuse, 108
String Quartet, op. 50 #6, 25 interruption structure, pentatonic, 38,
Symphony #73, “La Chasse” [P53], 66, 163
239 intonation. See calls; liturgical chant
Symphony #88 [P173], 80, 311 Irish music, 53, 84, 86
Symphony #104 [P174], 80, 311 irony. See pentatonicism, ironic usage
“Willy’s Rare,” 86 Ives, Charles, 183; “Majority,” 497n4
Haydn, Michael, 130; Missa Sancti Aloysii
[P281], 131, 377; Missa Sancti Janequin, Clément, La Chasse, 485n75;
Hieronymi [P282], 130, 377 Le Chant des oyseaux, 485n83
Heinichen, Johann David, 15; Pastorale Janssen, N. A., 122, 494n79
per la Notte della Nativitate Christi [P47], japonaiserie, 98
63, 236 Javanese music, 54, 168, 476n10;
Helmholtz, Hermann von, 54 Debussy on, 59–60
Hendrix, Jimi, “Purple Haze,” 190 Joplin, Scott, Maple Leaf Rag, 32, 34
heptatonic scale. See diatonic scale
Herder, Johann Gottfried, 87–88, 90, 92, Kalkbrenner, Friedrich, 57, 58;
105 “Hymne des dix mille ans” [P5], 58,
hexachord (medieval), 14–15, 64, 210–11
477n12, 477n5, 477n6, 477n8 Kant, Immanuel, 105, 488n3
hexachordal theme, 8, 57, 63, 68 Kern, Jerome, “Ol’ Man River,” 189
hexatonic scale, 63, 479n37 Kircher, Athanasius, 75
Hindemith, Paul, Symphonic Kirnberger, Johann Philipp, 490n31
Metamorphoses on Themes of Carl Maria Klangfläche, 76
von Weber, 484n49 Kling, Henri, 496n33
index 521
Knecht, Justin Heinrich, Le Portrait Chapelle de Guillaume Tell [P299], 135,

musical de la Nature [P131], 75, 284 387
Kodály, Zoltán, 183, 476n12 Christus [P326, P333, P348], 126–27,
Kolberg, Oskar, 91 137, 138, 408, 414, 430
Kopp, David, 167, 171 Consolation #3 [P404, P405], 156, 466
Kozeluch, Leopold, 85 Consolation #4, 135–36
Krumhansl, Carol, 479n27 Dante Symphony [P287, P310], 133,
Krumpholtz, Jean-Baptiste, 494n5 135, 380, 395
Kurth, Ernst, 128 “Die Himmel erzählen” [P352], 138,
433
La Fage, Adrien de, 115, 116, 117, 118, “Églogue” [P204], 83, 325
121–22 “Es rufet Gott uns mahnend” [P351],
Laborde, Benjamin de, 53, 57, 84 138, 433
Lachner, Franz, “Das Waldvöglein” Eucharista [P285], 133, 378
[P87], 71, 260 Fantaisie romantique sur deux mélodies
Lambillotte, Louis, 489n18 suisses [P54, P69], 66, 71, 239, 247
Landini cadence, 40–41 Faust Symphony [P346, P358], 138, 430,
Ländler cadence. See 3̂–1̂; 5̂–3̂ 441
Larson, Steve, 478n20 “Herr, wie lange” [P313, P334], 30,
Latin rock, 183 135, 137, 397, 415
Le Sueur, Jean-François, Ossian [P238], Hungarian Coronation Mass [P303,
88, 345 P350], 30, 135, 138, 389, 431–32,
leading tone, 4, 15, 16, 40, 118, 119, 480n46
127–28, 162, 480n44; absence of as “Invocation” from Harmonies poétiques
metaphor for the divine, 129. See also et religieuses [P367], 138, 142, 447
6̂, as plagal leading tone; 7̂ Les Morts [P345], 138, 430
Lebeuf, Jean, 119 Les Préludes [P205], 83, 325
Leiderman, B. J., 157 Marche funèbre [P308], 30, 135, 394
Lerdahl, Fred, 21 Mass in C minor [P278, P288], 130,
Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim, 105 133, 375, 381
Liber Usualis, 108, 109, 110–12, 113, Matrimonium [P271], 130, 368
489n20 “Mein Gott” [P336], 137, 416
Ligeti, György, Atmosphères, 497n4 Missa Choralis [P273, P331, P332,
Liszt, Franz, 49, 71, 92, 126, 132–33, 138, P339, P340], 130, 137, 138, 369,
145, 152, 155, 156, 475n3, 479n33, 413, 414, 426
488n11, 492n61 Missa solemnis [P314], 30, 135, 398–99
Adagio for organ [P323], 135–36, 406 O Sacrum Convivium [P359], 138, 441
Albumblatt in Walzerform [P190], 80, 317 “Ordo” from Septem Sacramenta [P366],
Am Grabe Richard Wagners [P342], 138, 138, 142, 446
427 Organ Mass [P309], 30, 135, 395
“Angélus! Prière aux anges gardiens” Ossa arida [P365], 138, 142, 444–46
[P349], 127, 138, 431 “Pastorale” [P203], 83, 325
Anima Christi [P277], 130, 374 Pater Noster [P312], 135, 397
“Au Lac de Wallenstadt” [P202], 83, Requiem [P325, P329], 36, 38, 136,
324 137, 407, 411, 494n82
Ballade #1 [P402], 156, 465 Rigoletto (concert paraphrase) [P406,
Ballade #2 (autograph ending) P407], 156, 467, 468
[P403], 156, 465 Salve regina [P290], 133, 381
522 index
Liszt, Franz (continued) Luther, Martin, “Ein feste Burg,” 119–20,

“Scène aux champs” (transcription of 132
Berlioz), 76–77 Lyadov, Anatoli, Etude, op. 37 [P411],
Sonata in B minor, 493n77 156, 471; Mazurka, op. 38 [P261], 92,
Sposalizio [P301, P360], 30, 135, 138, 361
141, 171, 388, 442 Lyre of Mercury (Roussier), 51
St. Cecilia [P311, P330, P347, P362], Lyre of Pythagoras (Roussier), 51
30, 135, 137, 138, 141, 396, 412,
430, 443 Macfarren, George, 89
St. Elisabeth [P279, P289, P335, P341, MacPherson, James, 87, 486n102
P361, P363, P364], 130, 133, 137, Mahler, Gustav, 480n39
138, 141–42, 375, 381, 415, 426, 442, Das Lied von der Erde, 27, 165, 183
443 “Der Abschied,” 27, 165
Transcendental Etude #1 [P399], 156, 462 “Ich bin der Welt” [P198], 83, 321
Transcendental Etude #6 [P400], 156, 463 Kindertotenlieder [P122], 74, 277
Transcendental Etude #9 [P401], 156, 464 Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen [P195],
Via Crucis [P286], 133, 379 30, 83, 319
Von der Wiege bis zum Grabe [P116], 74, Symphony #1 [P283], 32–33, 130–32,
274 378
Weihnachtsbaum [P42], 62, 234 Symphony #4 [P146, P212], 76, 83,
liturgical chant, 9, 99, 105, 108–13; 295–96, 328
allusions to, 133, 134; corruptions in, Symphony #5 [P304], 34–35, 135, 389
106–7, 108, 117–24; intonation “Um Mitternacht” [P149], 77, 298
formulas, 108–9; quoted in sacred Maistre, Joseph de, 488n6
music, 130, 133, 138; restoration of, major scale, critiques of, 59; history of,
107–8, 116–24, 137; as the “people’s” 14–17, 477n12, 485n67; modal aspects
music, 126; theories of, 9, 116–24, 129. of, 13–14, 16–17, 17, 18–19, 28,
See also Liber Usualis 478n20, 478n25
Locke, Ralph, 92, 481n3, 484n52 Marx, A. B., 28, 80
Loewe, Carl Mascagni, Pietro, Iris [P30–P33], 60,
“Alpins Klage” [P221], 88, 334 226–27
“Das Muttergottesbild im Teiche” Massé, Victor
[P161], 78, 303 “Berceuse” [P114], 74, 274
“Die Mutter an der Wiege” [P113], 74, “Dans les Bois” [P126], 75, 281
273 “Eho!” [P89], 73, 261
“Die Oasis” [P16], 60, 218 “La Chanson du printemps” [P143],
“Der Mohrenfürst auf der Messe” 76, 293
[P17], 60, 218 “Le Muletier de Calabre” [P90], 73,
“Lied der Königin Elisabeth” [P228], 262
88, 340 Massenet, Jules, “Bonne Nuit!” [P112],
“Thomas der Reimer” [P148, P224], 74, 273; “Lève-toi” [P91], 30, 73,
78, 88, 297, 337 262
“Vogelgesang” [P136], 76, 288 Mattheson, Johann, 477n12
Louis, Rudolf, 16, 17 meaning. See signification
lullaby, 73–74, 98 medieval revival, 107–8. See also gothicism;
Lully, Jean-Baptiste, 47–48; Le Bourgeois liturgical chant, restoration of
Gentilhomme (arr. Weckerlin, 1883) Méhul, Étienne-Nicolas, Uthal [P78], 71,
[P1], 47–48, 205, 483n42 252
index 523
Mendel, Hermann, 483n38 “news” carols, 72–73

Mendelssohn, Felix, 88, 146, 152 Nicolai, Otto, Die lustigen Weiber von
“Jagdlied” [P88], 71, 260 Windsor [P222], 88, 334
Symphony #1, 22 Niedermeyer, Louis, 108, 118, 137
Symphony #3 (“Scottish”) [P217, Nielsen, Carl, Sleep [P107], 74, 271
P219], 88–89, 331, 333 “noble savage,” 9, 127. See also
Symphony #5 (“Reformation”), 132 primitivism
Merrick, Paul, 493n77 Novalis, 105
Messager, André, Madame Chrysanthème
[P7, P27, P28], 58, 60, 212, 223 octatonic scale, 9, 168–69. See also
Meyer, Leonard, 34, 42, 133, 481n55 pentatonic scale, and octatonic
Meyerbeer, Giacomo, Dinorah [P56, octave equivalence, 19
P71], 66, 71, 240, 248 Offenbach, Jacques, Ba-Ta-Clan [P18],
Michaelangelo, Creation of Adam, 125 60, 219
Milhaud, Darius, 183 1̂–3̂, 64–65
Miller, James, 84 opera style in church, 106, 117
Millet, Jean-François, L’Angélus, 125 Orgue de Barbarie, 51
minor third. See third Orientalism. See exoticism
mode, 13–14, 17, 31, 110, 113, 116, 118, Ortigue, Joseph d’. See D’Ortigue,
124. See also pentatonic scale, modes Joseph
of; scale Ossian, 87
modes (medieval), 102, 110, 113, 116, Ossianism, 87, 90
118, 119, 490n31 overtone series, 8, 50, 64, 68
modes (pentatonic). See pentatonic
scale, modes of Paganini, Niccolò, 495n20
Monteverdi, Claudio, Vespers, 29 Page, Jimi, “Stairway to Heaven” (guitar
montuno, 485n86 solo), 191
Moussorgsky, Modest, 92; Pictures at an Palestrina, Giovanni Pierluigi da, 107,
Exhibition [P266], 92, 95, 364 110, 114–15; Missa Papae Marcelli, 29
Mozart, Leopold, 146; Sinfonia di caccia Paris Exposition, 59, 60, 484n55, 497n4
[P55, P60], 66, 239, 242; “Toy” Parish-Alvars, Elias, 146, 150, 151,
Symphony, 75 152–55, 155, 158, 495n20, 496n34
Mozart, W. A., 66, 90, 106, 107; cadences Fantasia on Themes from Weber’s
of, 24 “Oberon,” op. 59 [P381], 152, 452
Mass, K. 167, 22, 29 Fantasia, op. 35 [P372, P379], 152,
Mass, K. 192, 29, 130 153, 448, 451
Mass, K. 258, 29 Grand Fantasia on “I Capuleti e i
Mass, K. 49, 29 Montecchi” by Bellini and “Semiramide”
Piano Sonata, K. 281, 24 by Rossini [P376, P377], 152, 154–55,
Piano Sonata, K. 330, 24 450
The Magic Flute [P50, P101], 22, 63, 73, Grand Fantasia on “Lucia di
82, 195, 237, 267 Lammermoor,” 495n25
Mueller, Richard, 497n4 Grand Fantasia on Rossini’s “Moïse,” op.
musica ficta, 118 58 [P375, P378, P382], 152, 450,
451, 452
Napoleon Bonaparte, 88 Grand Study in Imitation of the Mandolin
nationalism, 84, 89, 90, 91, 92 [P371, P384], 149, 152, 153, 453,
Neumeyer, David, 478n25 448
524 index
Parish-Alvars (continued) 167–68, 175, 476n15; “residue” in

Grande Fantaisie et Variations de medieval and Renaissance music, 109,
Bravoure, op. 57 [P373], 152, 449 110, 113, 116; in Scottish folksong, 52,
La Danse des fées [P383], 154, 453 84; structural potential, 183 (see also
Scenes from My Youth, op. 75, “Gipsies 6̂–8̂, structural implications); subsets
March” [P380], 152, 496n27, 451 of, 167, 172, 175, 178, 483n43; as
Serenade, op. 83 [P368, P369, P385], system, 479n37; triads of, 4, 102;
147, 152, 447, 454 universality, 1, 2, 41, 54, 483n43; and
Tema con variazioni, WoO PA1 [P374], whole-tone, 9, 167–68, 169, 171. See
152, 449 also pentatonicism
The Farewell, op. 68 (⫽Romance #20) pentatonicism, 4–5; African sources, 32,
[P370], 152, 448 183–84, 480n40; Asian sources, 9,
passing tones in chant, 121–24, 491n48 49–60; in calls (see calls); in children’s
pastoral-exotic pentatonic, 9, 47–98, 159. music, 42, 54, 480n54; circumstantial,
See also under pentatonicism 8, 61–63 (see also pentatonicism,
pastoralism, 9, 61, 63, 68, 75, 78, 81, 82, incipient); domestic sources, 60–98;
88, 126; as exoticism, 92–98; and European sources, 84–92; harp
spirituality, 125–26, 141. See also sources, 154, 155; incipient, 60–80;
primitivism ironic usage, 81–83, 98; medieval
Peirce, C. S., 6–7 sources, 109, 110, 113, 116; as
pentatonic scale, 2–3; ambiguity of, 166, multifaceted phenomenon, 8; non-
167, 174, 183, 487n127; as ancient, 53, signifying, 145, 158, 159 (see also
483n43; apparent skepticism toward, pentatonicism, pentatonic scale used
51–54, 57; in Burmese music, 54; in as scale); opposite of chromaticism,
Chinese music, 2, 50, 51, 52, 53; and 32, 37, 42–43, 92, 95, 99, 129–30, 138,
chromatic, 3–4, 8, 31; in Czech music, 167, 183; pentatonic scale used as
91; and diatonic, 3, 5, 8, 31, 60, 113, scale, 8, 138–42, 156, 167–71, 183 (see
127, 167, 493n72, 496n3; in English also glissando); Russian sources, 92,
folksong, 88; in Ethiopian music, 54; 487n124; Scottish sources, 84–89;
in European folksong, 90–93; “gaps” signifying hybrid “pastoral-exotic,”
in, 3, 4, 113, 119, 129; history of term, 92–98; signifying purity, 81; signifying
9, 483n38; in Hungarian music, “Scottish,” 9, 88; signifying the
476n12; in Indian music, 54; in Irish “exotic,” 9, 47, 49, 57, 58, 60, 61, 92,
music, 53; in Japanese music, 2; in 95, 157, 158, 183; signifying the
Javanese music, 54, 168, 476n10; in “pastoral,” 9, 61, 63, 64, 81, 83, 158,
liturgical chant, 9, 108–13, 124, 159, 183, 486n113; signifying the
489n24, 490n27, 492n60; modes of, 5, “spiritual,” 6, 9, 98, 102, 105, 130, 157,
50–51, 51, 110, 174, 183, 476n12, 158, 183, 496n35; as social text,
476n13, 488n127; mutation, 92, 490n27; as tonal minimalism, 61, 64,
496n2; as “natural,” 53, 64; and 124; in the twentieth century, 181,
octatonic, 9, 168–71; pentatonic 480n41; undermines tonality, 172, 175,
chord, 159; pentatonic échappée, 102, 181. See also pentatonic scale
141; pentatonic neighbor, 32, 99; Pez, Johann Christoph, Concerto pastorale
pentatonic “organum,” 175; [P46], 63, 236
pentatonic passing tone, 32, 62, piano. See black keys
130–32; in Polish music, 91; in Picardy sixth, 37–38, 134, 166. See also 6̂
popular music, 183–84; in post-tonal pitch-space, 21, 31–32, 40, 64, 102,
music, 183; properties of, 5, 7, 133, 479n27, 479n28, 479n37
index 525
plagal cadence, 21, 23, 28–31, 34, 38–40, Daphnis et Chloé [P141], 76, 159, 167,
42, 133, 134, 136, 159, 160, 479n36, 175, 292
480n48, 494n83 Gaspard de la nuit [P416], 156, 474
plagal leading tone. See 6̂, as plagal Jeux d’eau [P415], 156, 473
leading tone L’Enfant et les sortilèges [P37, P38], 60,
plagal modulation, 34 98, 231, 232
plainchant. See liturgical chant Ma Mère l’oye [P36], 60, 230
plainchant musical, 106 Miroirs, v, “La Vallée des cloches”
Playford, John, 84 [P157], 77, 301
Pleyel, Ignaz, 85 Shéhérazade [P35], 60, 229–30
Polish folk music, 91 Reinecke, Carl, Harp Concerto [P386],
Pöschl, Josef, 66–67 152, 454
Pratt, Samuel, 146 religion, in Enlightenment thought, 105,
primitive pentatonic, 9, 127, 138, 158. See 488n3; in Napoleonic France, 488n6;
also pastoral-exotic pentatonic in Romantic thought, 105, 125, 128.
primitivism, 54, 63, 82, 106, 124, 138, See also spirituality
158; and conceptions of spirituality, religious pentatonic, 6, 9, 98, 102–5, 124,
124–27, 135. See also pastoralism 127, 128, 129, 130–42, 488n1, 493n76;
progression triple (Rameau), 50–51, as complex signifier, 124–27, 127–30,
482n18 138; and primitivism, 135, 138; in
Puccini, Giacomo, Messa di Gloria secular music, 135; structuralist
[P321], 30, 36–37, 135, 405; “O mio interpretation, 129–30. See also
babbino caro” [P296], 30, 135, 385; pentatonicism, signifying the
Turandot [P39], 60, 98, 233 “spiritual”
Punto, Giovanni, Rondeau en chasse Reutter, Georg, 477n8
[P58], 67, 241 Reyer, Ernest, “À un Berceau” [P216],
Purcell, Henry, 57; The Fairy Queen, 48; 30, 83, 331; “Adieu Suzon” [P76], 71,
Te Deum and Jubilate, 29 82, 250
Ricci, Matteo, 50
quartal harmony, 77 Richter, Joseph, 488n11
Riemann, Hugo, 17, 54, 478n22, 483n38,
Rachmaninoff, Sergei 492n60
“Before My Window” [P215], 83, 330 Rimsky-Korsakov, Nikolai, 92, 496n33; La
The Bells [P151], 77, 299 Grande Pâque russe [P257, P387], 92,
“Let Me Rest Here Alone” [P197], 83, 152, 359, 455, 496n33; Sadko
320 [P252–P256, P263, P265], 92, 95, 357,
“Melody” [P117], 74, 275 358, 359, 363, 364, 480n47; Sinfonietta
Spring [P213], 83, 329 on Russian Themes [P262], 92, 94, 362
“The Lilacs” [P214], 83, 330 Robinson, “Smokey,” “My Girl,” 190
Raffles, Sir Thomas Stamford, 486n91 Rodgers, Richard, “Blue Moon,” 480n41
raga, 13, 14 Rosetti, Antonio, Sinfonia pastoralis
Rameau, Jean-Phillippe, 15, 17, 50–51, [P125], 75, 280
52, 54, 57, 59, 496n33; Les Paladins, Rossini, Gioachino, 68, 106, 485n74;
484n48 Guillaume Tell [P68, P70, P79], 71, 247,
Ramsay, Allan, 85 248, 253; La donna del lago [P57], 66,
ranz des vaches, 68, 70, 71, 485n73, 241; “L’Amour à Pekin,” 58–59
485n74 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 50, 53, 57, 71,
Ravel, Maurice, 158, 159 116, 124, 485n73
526 index
Roussier, Abbé, 51–52, 53, 54, 55 Ländler, D. 814 #4 [P172], 80, 310
Russia, concert music of, 92–95, Mass #1, 29
487n123; folk music of, 92; Piano Sonata, D. 664, 25–26
nationalism, 89, 92 Piano Trio in B major [P63], 68–69,
245
Sachs, Curt, 40, 483n43 Salve regina, 29
sacred music, 102, 106, 107, 117, 119, Sonata in A major, D. 959 [P177], 80,
124 313
Saint-Saëns, Camille Symphony #9, iii [P175], 80, 312
The Carnival of the Animals, #13, “The Symphony #9, iv, 65
Swan” [P137], 76, 288 “Trost” [P83], 71, 257
“La Cloche” [P155], 77, 300 “Wiegenlied” [P105], 74, 270
La Princesse jaune [P8–P15], 58, 60, 98, Winterreise, 82–83, 98
213–18 Winterreise, “Der Lindenbaum”
Le Lever de la lune [P229], 88, 340 [P59], 66, 83, 242
“Le Matin,” 30 Winterreise, “Die Krähe” [P193], 83,
Marche Orient et Occident [P22], 60, 220 318
Mass, op. 4 [P337], 137, 417 Winterreise, “Die Post” [P192], 83,
Piano Concerto #5, “Egyptian” [P29], 318
30, 60, 224–25 Winterreise, “Frühlingstraum” [P41],
Samson et Dalila [P24], 60, 92, 96, 221 62, 83, 234
“Viens” [P164], 78, 305 Winterreise, “Gute Nacht” [P191],
Salzer, Felix, 40 32–33, 83, 317
Sams, Eric, 487n115 Winterreise, “Mut!” [P194], 83,
Samson, Jim, 92 319
Scacchi, Marco, 106 Winterreise, “Rückblick” [P84], 71, 82,
scale, 1, 13–14, 17, 31, 113. See also 258
mode; individual scales Schumann, Robert, 495n20
scale degrees. See individual scale degrees Album für die Jugend, “Gukkuk im
Schachter, Carl, 40 Versteck” [P127], 76, 281
Schenker, Heinrich, 17, 128, 478n25 “Das Hochlandmädchen,” op. 55 #1
Schlegel, Friedrich, 105 [P235], 88, 343
Schoenberg, Arnold, 480n48; “Ei, du “Der Nussbaum” [P158], 79, 302
Lütte” [P93], 73, 263 Incidental Music to Manfred [P65], 68,
Schopenhauer, Arthur, 128 245
Schröter, Christoph, 477n12 “John Anderson,” op. 145 #4 [P234],
Schubert, Franz, 27, 49, 80 88, 342
Antiphon for Palm Sunday, 29 Liederkreis, op. 24, “Morgens steh’ ich
“Der Musensohn” [P86], 71, 259 auf” [P196], 83, 320
“Die junge Nonne” [P150], 77, 298 Symphony #3 [P160, P178], 78, 80,
Die schöne Müllerin, “Des Baches 303, 313
Wiegenlied” [P118], 74, 275 “Unter’m Fenster,” op. 34 #3 [P236],
“Frühlingslied,” D. 919 [P199], 83, 321 88, 344
“German Mass,” 29 Scotland, nationalism, 84; in the
“Gott in der Natur” D. 757 [P200], 83, Romantic imagination, 9, 87–88; and
322 surrogate national pride, 88. See also
“Jägers Abendlied” [P85], 71, 259 pentatonicism, Scottish sources
Ländler, D. 814 #1 [P171], 80, 310 Scott, Sir Walter, 88
index 527
Scottish folksong, 80; Continental views 24; and subdominant harmony, 17,
of, 84; Dorian scale in, 84; English 160; as tendency-tone, 16; and tuning,
views of, 84; imitated by foreign 17. See also added-sixth chord
composers, 86–89; and pastoralism, 6̂–8̂, 8, 102, 129, 130; in the bass, 34–36,
96; pentatonic scale in, 52, 84; 135–37, 163, 164, 166; cadence, 28–31,
pentatonicism overestimated, 84; 34, 37–41, 65–66, 133–35, 135–37, 160,
published collections of folk music, 163, 166, 480n41, 480n42, 480n46; as
84–86; quoted in art music, 85–87; catharsis, 37; and common–tone
similarity to Chinese, 52, 54, 84; progressions, 32; as corruption of
similarity to Javanese, 486n91; Ländler cadence, 65–66; in cuckoo
similarity to Native American, 482n29 call, 75; determines plagal closure
“Scottish style” versus “Nordic character,” unambiguously, 34; as extension of
88 horn style, 65–66; and history of
Sechter, Simon, 16–17 nineteenth-century tonality, 42; and
semantics. See semiosis; signification implied 6̂–5̂, 19, 28, 30–31, 37, 40, 163;
semiosis, 6–7, 24, 134, 488n1, 494n81. as plagal empowerment, 34;
See also signification reinterpreted classically, 86–87;
semitone, 118; absent from pentatonic signifying spirituality, 29; as a “step,” 4,
scale, 3, 53, 84, 129; in the medieval 32, 34, 38, 40, 41, 479n37; structural
hexachord, 14 implications, 38–43, 162–63;
7̂, 53, 160; emergence of, 14–15; and 6̂, theoretical aspects, 31–34, 37; with
15–16; as tendency-tone, 16. See also ii–I, 37, 40. See also 6̂, non-classical
leading tone behavior; 6̂, as plagal leading tone
Shepherd, John, 490n27 6̂–5̂, 8, 130, 138; in bells, 77; in birdcall,
shepherd, as divine, 125; in music, 75; in horn call, 66, 68, 71; in lullaby,
61, 82 74. See also 6̂, classical behavior
signification, 6–7, 9, 24, 134, 138, 159, 6̂, 17, 23, 32, 37–38, 134, 163, 479n38.
183, 479n32. See also under See also Picardy sixth
pentatonicism 6̂, 23
Simon, Paul, “Still Crazy After All These vi–I. See 6̂–8̂, in the bass
Years,” 191 slendro, 2, 60, 168
simplicity, 9, 98, 102, 123 “The Small-Footed Lady,” 53
6̂, as appoggiatura over V, 25, 80; in Solesmes project, 108, 126
authentic cadences, 24; classical Solie, Ruth A., 133
behavior, 21–23, 24, 25–28, 28, 55, solmization, 14, 485n67
129, 160–62, 163, 166, 494n80 (see also speech, intoned. See calls
5̂–6̂; 6̂–5̂); in classical modulation, 23; spirituality, as erotic, 494n83, 102; as
consonant with the tonic, 8, 27, 63, 80, primitive, 124–27. See also religion;
137; and dance, 25–27, 80, 485n86; religious pentatonic
extensions of classical behavior, 25–28, Spohr, Rosalie, 152
28–31; history and reception of, Stein, Deborah, 480n42
14–17; more “natural” than 7̂, 41; non- stepwise motion, 17, 21, 28, 55, 121–24,
classical behavior, 28–43, 132, 160–62, 478n22. See also third
166–67 (see also 6̂–8̂); as plagal leading Strauss, Johann, Jr., 25; Donauweibchen
tone, 4, 34, 40, 41, 160, 162; and [P189], 25–27, 80, 317
Russian music, 487n123; and 7̂, 18, 21, Strauss, Richard, Death and
23, 24, 34, 38, 40, 128, 130, 479n30; Transfiguration, 128; Eine Alpensinfonie
signifying desire, 24; signifying purity, [P61, P66], 66, 68, 243–44, 246
528 index
Stravinsky, Igor, 476n12; Le Chant du tonality, 43, 181, 183; “ancient” versus
rossignol, 184 “modern,” 9, 116–19
street cries. See calls topic. See signification
Streicher (piano maker), 146 Tovey, Donald, 479n38
“Stump the Chumps,” 157 Trân, Van Khe, 2
style hongrois, 49 triadic diminution. See pentatonicism,
Suk, Josef, Asrael [P355], 138, 437 circumstantial
Sullivan, Arthur, The Mikado [P25, P26], tritone, 3, 15, 118–19, 127–28
60, 222–23 tuning, 2, 17, 50, 53
Sulzer, Johann Georg, 88 Türk, Daniel Gottlieb, 116
synonym. See harp, enharmonicism Turkish music, 47, 50. See also Turkish
Szabolcsi, Bence, 476n9, 483n43 style
Turkish style, 49
Tartini, Guiseppi, 485n67 ii–I. See 6̂–8̂, with ii–I
Tchaikovsky, Piotr Ilyich
Romeo and Juliet [P295], 30, 37–38, universality. See pentatonic scale,
134, 384 universality
Symphony #2 [P258], 92, 360
Symphony #5, 479n38 Vaughan Williams, Ralph, 181; The Lark
Symphony #6 [P251], 92, 356 Ascending, 185; “See the Chariot at
Temperley, Nicholas, 89 Hand,” 38
tendency-tone, 16, 17, 18, 117, 119, 127, Villa-Lobos, Heitor, 183
134, 478n20; and the religious Vincent, François-André, La Leçon de
pentatonic, 128–29. See also individual Labourage, 125–26
scale degrees Viret, Jacques, 490n27
tetratonic scale, 66, 74, 138, 172, 175 Vivaldi, Antonio, bird cadenzas, 75, 98;
Thalberg, Sigismond, 152, 156 Flute Concerto in D major, “Il
Andante Final de “Lucia di Lamermoor,” gardellino,” RV 428 [P134], 75, 287;
op. 43 [P390], 156, 457 La primavera [P133], 75, 286; Violin
Fantasy on Don Juan, op. 42 [P391], Concerto in A major, “Il cucu,” RV 335
156, 457 [P135], 75–76, 287
Fantasy on Il Trovatore, op. 77 [P389], Vogler, Abbé Georg-Joseph, 54–55, 57,
156, 456 60; Pente chordium [P2], 54–55, 171,
Fantasy on Oberon, op. 37 [P392], 156, 206–7
458 Volga music, 487n124
Nocturne, op. 16 #1 [P388], 156,
455 Wagner, Richard, 183
that, 13 Das Rheingold [P96], 73, 265
Thibaut, A. F., 90, 108, 116, 119, 126 Die Walküre [P344], 138–39,
third, 29, 40, 42, 71, 108, 121–24, 130, 428–29
137, 480n54 Lohengrin [P99, P315], 30, 35–36, 73,
Thomas, Ambroise, Hamlet [P240], 88, 82, 135, 267, 399
346 Parsifal [P153, P284, P343], 77, 132,
Thomson, George, 85 138, 299, 378, 427
3̂–1̂, 65, 74 Siegfried [P139], 76, 98, 290
Thuille, Ludwig, 16, 17 Siegfried-Idyll [P140], 76, 291
Tieck, Ludwig, 107 Tristan und Isolde, 494n83, 496n1
Tiersot, Julien, 59 Walther, Johann Gottfried, 116
index 529
Weber, Carl Maria von, 49, 54, 57, 60; Der world music, 2. See also individual
Freischütz, 80; Incidental music to musics; pentatonicism; pentatonic
Turandot [P4], 57–58, 209 scale
Weckerlin, J. B., 47–48, 483n42
Whaples, Miriam, 48, 481n4 Yasser, Joseph, 483n43
whole-tone scale, 51, 52, 59, 60, 165, 167, yodel, 74
169, 496n35. See also pentatonic scale,
and whole tone Zuckerkandl, Victor, 18
Witt, Franz Xavier, 108 “Zum Wecken” (horn call), 66–67
Eastman Studies in Music
The Poetic Debussy: A Collection of Music and Musicians in the

His Song Texts and Selected Letters Escorial Liturgy under the
(Revised Second Edition) Habsburgs, 1563–1700
Edited by Margaret G. Cobb Michael J. Noone
Concert Music, Rock, and Jazz since Analyzing Wagner’s Operas: Alfred
1945: Essays and Analytical Studies Lorenz and German Nationalist Ideology
Edited by Elizabeth West Marvin Stephen McClatchie
and Richard Hermann
The Gardano Music Printing
Music and the Occult: French Firms, 1569–1611
Musical Philosophies, 1750–1950 Richard J. Agee
Joscelyn Godwin
“The Broadway Sound”: The
“Wanderjahre of a Revolutionist” and
Autobiography and Selected Essays
Other Essays on American Music
of Robert Russell Bennett
Arthur Farwell,
Edited by George J. Ferencz
edited by Thomas Stoner
Theories of Fugue from the Age of
French Organ Music from the
Josquin to the Age of Bach
Revolution to Franck and Widor
Paul Mark Walker
Edited by Lawrence Archbold
and William J. Peterson The Chansons of Orlando di Lasso
and Their Protestant Listeners:
Musical Creativity in Twentieth-
Music, Piety, and Print in
Century China: Abing, His Music,
Sixteenth-Century France
and Its Changing Meanings
Richard Freedman
(includes CD)
Jonathan P. J. Stock Berlioz’s Semi-Operas: Roméo et
Elliott Carter: Collected Essays and Juliette and La damnation de Faust
Lectures, 1937–1995 Daniel Albright
Edited by Jonathan W. Bernard
The Gamelan Digul and the Prison-Camp
Music Theory in Concept and Practice Musician Who Built It: An Australian
Edited by James M. Baker, David Link with the Indonesian Revolution
W. Beach, and Jonathan W. Bernard Margaret J. Kartomi
“The Music of American Folk Song” Historical Musicology: Sources,
and Selected Other Writings on Methods, Interpretations
American Folk Music Edited by Stephen A. Crist and
Ruth Crawford Seeger, edited by Roberta Montemorra Marvin
Larry Polansky and Judith Tick
The Pleasure of Modernist Music:
Portrait of Percy Grainger Listening, Meaning, Intention, Ideology
Edited by Malcolm Gillies Edited by Arved Ashby
and David Pear
Debussy’s Letters to Inghelbrecht:
Berlioz: Past, Present, Future The Story of a Musical Friendship
Edited by Peter Bloom Annotated by Margaret G. Cobb
Explaining Tonality:
The Musical Madhouse
Schenkerian Theory and Beyond
(Les Grotesques de la musique)
Matthew Brown
Hector Berlioz
Translated and edited by The Substance of Things Heard:
Alastair Bruce Writings about Music
Introduction by Hugh Paul Griffiths
Macdonald
Musical Encounters at the
The Music of Luigi Dallapiccola 1889 Paris World’s Fair
Raymond Fearn Annegret Fauser
Music’s Modern Muse: Aspects of Unity in J. S. Bach’s Partitas

A Life of Winnaretta Singer, and Suites: An Analytical Study
Princesse de Polignac David W. Beach
Sylvia Kahan
Letters I Never Mailed: Clues to a Life
The Sea on Fire: Jean Barraqué Alec Wilder
Paul Griffiths Annotated by David Demsey
Foreword by Marian McPartland
“Claude Debussy As I Knew Him” and
Other Writings of Arthur Hartmann Wagner and Wagnerism in Nineteenth-
Edited by Samuel Hsu, Century Sweden, Finland, and the Baltic
Sidney Grolnic, and Mark Peters Provinces: Reception, Enthusiasm, Cult
Foreword by David Grayson Hannu Salmi
Schumann’s Piano Cycles and the Bach’s Changing World:

Novels of Jean Paul Voices in the Community
Erika Reiman Edited by Carol K. Baron
Bach and the Pedal Clavichord: CageTalk: Dialogues with and about
An Organist’s Guide John Cage
Joel Speerstra Edited by Peter Dickinson
European Music and Musicians Schubert in the European Imagination,
in New York City, 1840–1900 Volume 2: Fin-de-Siècle Vienna
Edited by John Graziano Scott Messing
Schubert in the European Musicking Shakespeare: A Conflict of

Imagination,Volume 1: Theatres
The Romantic and Victorian Eras Daniel Albright
Scott Messing
Pentatonicism from the
Eighteenth Century to Debussy
Opera and Ideology in Prague: Jeremy Day-O’Connell
Polemics and Practice at the National
Theater, 1900–1938
Brian S. Locke
Ruth Crawford Seeger’s Worlds:
Innovation and Tradition in Twentieth-
Century American Music
Edited by Ray Allen and
Ellie M. Hisama
Pentatonicism from the Eighteenth Century to Debussy offers the first comprehensive
account of a widely recognized aspect of music history: the increasing use of
pentatonic (“black-key scale”) techniques in nineteenth-century Western art-
music.
A more extensive and complex trend than has been acknowledged, pentatoni-
cism in nineteenth-century music encompasses hundreds of instances, many of
which predate by decades the more famous examples of Debussy and Dvor¤ák.
Pentatonicism from the Eighteenth Century to Debussy weaves together historical
commentary with music theory and analysis in order to explain the sources and
significance of this important, but hitherto only casually understood, phenomenon.
The book introduces several distinct categories of pentatonic practice—
pastoral, primitive, exotic, religious, and coloristic—while also demonstrating
their frequent interaction. It shows how each of these categories derives
from musical, aesthetic, and ideological developments of the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries. Finally, the book examines pentatonicism in relationship
to changes in the melodic and harmonic sensibility of the time.
In revealing multiple derivations and fluid meanings, the book ultimately dis-
tinguishes pentatonicism from the octatonic and whole-tone materials with
which it has been conventionally associated.
Central to the book’s interest and arguments are the copious discussions of
excerpts from repertoire both familiar and forgotten. The generously illustrated
text concludes with an additional appendix of over 400 examples, an unprece-
dented resource that demonstrates the individual artistry with which virtually
every major nineteenth-century composer (from Schubert, Chopin, and Berlioz
to Liszt, Wagner, and Mahler) handled the seemingly “simple” materials of
pentatonicism.
Jeremy Day-O’Connell is assistant professor of music at Knox College.

day-o'connell.mech.4 6/6/07 11:27 AM Page 1
Jeremy Day-O’Connell is
Assistant Professor of Music
at Knox College and author of
P entatonicism from the Eighteenth Century to
Debussy offers the first comprehensive
account of a widely recognized aspect of music
^
“The Rise of 6 in the 19th Cen- history: the increasing use of pentatonic (“black-
tury” in Music Theory Spec-
trum (2002).
Pentatonicism key scale”) techniques in nineteenth-century
Western art-music.
from the A more extensive and complex trend than has
Eighteenth Century been acknowledged, pentatonicism in nine-
teenth-century music encompasses hundreds of
to instances, many of which predate by decades
“Like the pentatonic idiom itself, this book is readily accessible yet surprisingly rich in evoca-
tive associations. Music theorists and historians alike will find much of value in this sophisti-
Debussy the more famous examples of Debussy and
Dvořák. Pentatonicism from the Eighteenth Cen-
cated exploration of a largely neglected topic.” tury to Debussy weaves together historical com-
jeremy day-o’connell mentary with music theory and analysis in order
—-William Caplin (McGill University), to explain the sources and significance of this
author of Classical Form: A Theory of Formal Functions important, but hitherto only casually under-
for the Instrumental Music of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven stood, phenomenon.
The book introduces several distinct cate-
“Jeremy Day-O’Connell has produced a richly textured study of the influence of pentatonicism gories of pentatonic practice—pastoral, primi-
in the central repertoires of European music. The topic bears on many crucial issues, from tive, exotic, religious, and coloristic—while also
sacred music to the exotic, and it is handled with proper concern both for musical technique demonstrating their frequent interaction. It
and for signification. This is a book that needed to be written.” shows how each of these categories derives
from musical, aesthetic, and ideological devel-
—Julian Rushton (University of Leeds), opments of the eighteenth and nineteenth cen-
author of Mozart and The Music of Berlioz turies. Finally, the book examines pentatonicism
in relationship to changes in the melodic and
“From the late Middle Ages onward, mainstream theorists have regarded resolution by semi- harmonic sensibility of the time.
tone as the hallmark of directed motion in music. In this fascinating and deeply researched In revealing multiple derivations and fluid
book, Jeremy Day-O’Connell welcomes us to the anhemitonic counterculture. The catalogue meanings, the book ultimately distinguishes
of musical examples alone (an anthology in all but name) is worth the price of admission.” pentatonicism from the octatonic and whole-
tone materials with which it has been conven-
—William Rothstein (City University of New York), tionally associated.
author of Phrase Rhythm in Tonal Music Central to the book’s interest and arguments
are the copious discussions of excerpts from
repertoire both familiar and forgotten. The gen-
erously illustrated text concludes with an addi-
tional appendix of over 400 examples, an
Cover design by Rob and Lori Reed of unprecedented resource that demonstrates the
™xHSLFSAy462679zv*:+:!:+:!
Reed Studios, Inc., incorporating individual artistry with which virtually every
detail from Jean-François Millet, major nineteenth-century composer (from
L’Angélus (1858–59). Paris, Musée Schubert, Chopin, and Berlioz to Liszt, Wagner,
university of rochester press
d’Orsay. Used by permission. Jacket 668 Mt. Hope Avenue, Rochester, NY 14620-2731 and Mahler) handled the seemingly “simple”
typography and layout by Adam B. P.O. Box 9, Woodbridge, Suffolk, IP12 3DF, UK
materials of pentatonicism.
ISBN-10: 1-58046-267-7
Bohannon. www.urpress.com ISBN-13: 978-1-58046-267-9

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4 6/6/07 11:27 AM Page 1

A complete list of titles in the Eastman Studies in Music Series,

UNIVERSITY OF ROCHESTER PRESS

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation,

First published 2007

University of Rochester Press

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

3 The Religious Pentatonic 99

Part 3: Beyond Signification

5 Debussy and the Pentatonic Tradition 158

Afterword: Beyond Debussy 183

Catalogue of Pentatonic Examples

1.1 Raga Miyan-ki-Mallar 13

1.23 (⫽P283). Mahler, Symphony #1 (1888), iv, reh. 26 33

2.1 (⫽P1). Lully, Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme (arr. Weckerlin, 1883),

2.11 (⫽P46). Johann Christoph Pez, Concerto pastorale (1700),

2.38 (⫽P169). Chopin, Ballade in A major (1841), beginning 79

3.1 (⫽excerpt of P338). Fauré, Requiem (1877),

3.6 Gospel tone (LU, 114) 109

3.29 (⫽ excerpt of P344). Wagner, Die Walküre (1856), III/3,

4.1 Félix Godefroid (1818–97), Etudes mélodiques (posthumous),

5.1 Debussy, Printemps (1887), i, mm. 1–5 158

A.1 Stravinsky, Le Chant du rossignol (1917), #1, reh. 6 184

1.1 Mode within the continuum of the melodic domain 14

1.3 The major mode according to Zuckerkandl 18

3.1 The statistics of table 3.1 interpreted: A heptatonic

5.1 Summary analysis of Debussy’s Pagodes 180

3.1 Some pentatonic statistics of example 3.11, Gloria

4.1 Tonal and melodic capabilities of the single- and

Nineteenth-century pentatonicism in fact embodies a development in compo-

2. Definitions and Disclaimers: Pentatonicism

Although pentatonicism appears to be a musical universal,6 claims of universal-

Example I.1. The pentatonic scale.

diatonic infra-diatonic diatonic non-diatonic

Example I.2. The pentatonic scale compared to the major scale.

“diatonic” or “chromatic”: in each case the terms allow a broad interpretation

3. Definitions and Disclaimers: Signification

4. Summary and Prospectus

Overtone series Calling dyads

Figure I.2. Musical elements of pentatonicism from the eighteenth century to

Nativity “ancient tonality”

Scotland “Cradle of civilization” “Other”:

Figure I.3. Conceptual elements of pentatonicism from the eighteenth century

The Rise of 6 in the

Ethnomusicologists and theorists of non-Western music maintain a useful dis-

Example 1.1. Raga Miyan-ki-Mallar.

SCALE <——————————— MODE ———————————> TUNE

Figure 1.1. Mode within the continuum of the melodic domain.

1. Older Theories of the Scale

objection from conservatives: even as late as the eighteenth century, controversy

Example 1.2. From Rameau, Génération harmonique (1737), p. 65.

Reg. 3. Reg. 5. Reg. 4. Reg. 6. Reg. 2.

ultimately relax their prohibitions through the introduction of secondary triads,

Figure 1.2. From John Curwen, Standard Course (1880).

2. A Working Model of the Major Mode

Example 1.4. The essence of the major mode.

Figure 1.4. The major mode as a “tonal terrain.”

Figure 1.5. The “tonal terrain,” with octave equivalence.

the paradoxical nature of octave equivalence: the scale’s linear progression is

1. the continuation of an established motivic pattern (6–8 echoes the earlier

Example 1.5. Bach, Well-Tempered Clavier I (1722), #21 (with reduction).

a men, a men, a men, a men, a men.