There it was, the original manuscript of Handel's masterpiece called Messiah. I spent several minutes staring at the document, thinking about the melismas in the work and the orchestration. As I studied the manuscript, I could almost sense the furious pace but artistic beauty that flowed out of his pen. Always suspicious of the story of Handel composing Messiah in 24 days, I looked carefully for inconsistencies in the manuscript, for places that came from another hand, for a little post editing by someone or a filling in of the missing ideas. The more I studied, the more entranced I became. Needing to see other manuscripts in the collection, I took a few more minutes before moving onto the next one.
Later, just before closing time and before I left the Library, I stopped in the bookstore and found a published facsimile of Handel's Messiah. Not willing to pay 250 BP, I did spend a few minutes in study once again. I looked for inconsistencies, changes, alterations to the notes, flying stems, different notation systems, unusual expressions of non-harmonic tones. But much to my joy and, strangely, my sorrow I found none. It was all in the same hand and that hand is George Frederick Handel. In spite of my misgivings and suspicions, it appears that indeed Handel wrote Messiah in 24 days, a miracle of composition.
Back to the manuscripts. Next in line was the exquisite Concerto No. 3 in Eb major for Horn and Orchestra by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. As I stared at the second movement and the opening of the third, I felt as though I were falling into the pages, as though I were having an Alice in Wonderland moment where I materialized into one of the notes coming from the pen of the master. The music was suddenly magnified in my mind to a living and breathing entity as I felt the excitement and genius of Mozart expressing himself through music. Without error but also without excessive detail, Mozart dashed off this brilliant work as easily as we give thought to our everyday lives. As I had always suspected and have now confirmed, Mozart's manuscript is fastidious but not pedantic, precise but not trivial, gliding without bumps, and flawless but never contrived. He wrote what was in his head and it came out easily with infallibility. Never worried about every detail, he was obviously intent on the big picture of the musical goals and the expression. Allowing for some performance interpretation by virtue of his minimalistic scoring, at the same time his manuscript demonstrates great attention to balance, line, harmony, and character. As in all things Mozartian, it shows the correct balance of detail versus overall musical goals. Once again, I was enamored with his music, his writing, and brilliance. Lifting myself out of the score, I moved on but not without my characteristic smile and nod to one of the greatest composers in history.
A quick glance at a Schubert manuscript of a song reminded me of his tendency toward triteness and predictability (sorry Schubert fans). I spent a little more time on a Mendelssohn manuscript and smiled when I saw his system of repeating measures. He would write a measure that would be used later and call it number one. Then when it was time to use it again, he just put a one in the measure rather than write it all out. Kind of a musicians shorthand and a little bit on the path of least resistance. I am not a huge Mendelssohn fan, but there are several things that are profound and meaningful.
A quick look at Ravel's Bolero and I was amazed at his fastidious manuscript, perfect in all respects. Quite different, however, from Beethoven who was a total slob in his manuscripts. Big scratch outs, blobs of ink, lines going different ways, indecisive at times, bold at others, Beethoven was a mental hodge-podge of confusion, power, and insecurity. Still, there is something brilliant about Beethoven and seeing his manuscript points to a man whose genius never allowed him to be completely satisfied with his music.
We study manuscripts to gain some inside perception into the person, to learn what makes him tick, to see the pain, the joy, the ease, or in Beethoven's case the struggles to express. So what is going to happen in the future with music and literature? In 200 years will anyone be studying manuscripts of our time? How can future scholars learn about manuscripts from a computer? How will this change the understanding of music? Good questions and there are no answers. But for now, I am honored to have spent some time with these great composers, to see their writing, to share in their brilliance, and to delve into their creativity and imagination. My time at the British Library was productive, beneficial, and in the case of Mozart, emotional!
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