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Becoming Heinrich Schenker

Much controversy surrounds Schenker’s mature theory and its

attempt to explain musical pitch motion. Becoming Heinrich
Schenker brings a new perspective to Schenker’s theoretical work,
showing that ideas characteristic of his mature theory, although
in many respects fundamentally different, developed logically out
of his earlier ideas. Robert P. Morgan provides an introduction to
Schenker’s mature theory and traces its development through all of his
major publications, considering each in detail and with numerous
music examples. Morgan also explores the relationship between
Schenker’s theory and his troubled ideology, which crucially
influenced the evolution of his ideas and was heavily dependent
upon both the empirical and idealist strains of contemporary
German philosophical thought. Relying where possible on quotations
from Schenker’s own words, this book offers a balanced approach
to his theory and a unique overview of this central music figure,
generally considered to be the most prominent music theorist of
the twentieth century.

robert p. morgan is Professor Emeritus of Music at Yale

University. He is active as both a theorist and historian, and his
book Twentieth-Century Music (1991) has been a standard text for
over twenty years. He has published numerous other books as
editor, including Alban Berg: Historical and Analytical Perspectives
(1991), Modern Times (1993), and Hearing and Knowing Music:
The Unpublished Essays of Edward T. Cone (2009). He has served as
Chair of the Music Departments at both the University of Chicago and
Yale University and was a recipient of grants from the German
Government and the National Endowment for the Humanities,
plus a Burlington Northern Achievement Award for distinction in
graduate teaching in Humanities at the University of Chicago. He
has been a member of numerous advisory, executive, and editorial
boards and was Chair of the Visiting Committee of the Music
Department at Harvard University and twice a faculty member
of the Mannes Institute for Advanced Studies in Music Theory.
Becoming Heinrich Schenker
Music Theory and Ideology

robert p. morgan
University Printing House, Cambridge CB2 8BS, United Kingdom

Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge.

It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of
education, learning and research at the highest international levels of excellence.

www.cambridge.org
Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781107067691
© Robert P. Morgan 2014
This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception
and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements,
no reproduction of any part may take place without the written
permission of Cambridge University Press.
First published 2014
Printing in the United Kingdom by TJ International Ltd. Padstow Cornwall
A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication data
Morgan, Robert P., author.
Becoming Heinrich Schenker : music theory and ideology / Robert P. Morgan.
pages cm
ISBN 978-1-107-06769-1 (hardback)
1. Schenker, Heinrich, 1868–1935 – Criticism and interpretation. 2. Music
theory. I. Title.
ML423.S33M67 2014
780.92–dc23
2014003922
ISBN 978-1-107-06769-1 Hardback
Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy
of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication,
and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain,
accurate or appropriate.
 Contents

List of music examples [page vi]

Acknowledgements [x]
Preface [xiii]

part i theory [1]

1 Introduction [3]
2 Schenker’s final theory [14]
part ii development [39]
3 “Der Geist der musikalischen Technik” [41]

4 Die Harmonielehre [60]

5 Kontrapunkt I and II [77]
6 The monographs [98]

7 Der Tonwille and Das Meisterwerk in der Musik [117]

8 Der freie Satz [156]
part iii reconsideration [181]
9 Critical assessment: ideology [183]

10 Critical assessment: theory [204]

11 Conclusion [219]

German originals [230]

Works cited [264]
Index [272]

v
 Music examples

2.1 The three forms of the Ursatz [page 17]

2.2 Two forms of a fifth-Zug in C major [20]
2.3 A C-major Urlinie with 4̂ , temporarily converted into a
consonance, as endtone of a fifth-Zug [21]
2.4 A linear third as initial ascent to the first tone of an
Ursatz [22]
2.5 Reaching over and reaching under [22]
2.6 Two forms of unfolding, both also with linear
progressions [22]
2.7 Two voice exchanges, the second with a linear
progression [22]
2.8 C-major Zug with mixture [23]
2.9 C-major Urlinie with linear progressions from 5̂ and 2̂ [23]
2.10 Auxiliary cadence with an incomplete transference [23]
2.11 Arpeggiation on ii in C major as part of transferred
Ursatz [24]
2.12 Dividers on fifth degree and third degree [24]
2.13 Two initial ascents by arpeggiation, the second with a
linear progression [25]
2.14 Interrupted Ursatz with Urlinie on 5̂ [26]
2.15 Coupling with interrupted Ursatz and linear
progression [27]
2.16 Stufe as representation of a larger harmonic progression [28]
2.17 J. S Bach: Prelude no. 1 in C major, graph (Schenker 1932/
1969b, pp. 36–37) [34]
4.1 Harmonic system generated from C, plus subdominant
(Schenker 1906/1954, example 39/34, p. 54/39) [63]
4.2 Diatonic harmonic system in scalar form from C (Schenker
1906/1954, example 40/35, p. 55/41) [63]
4.3 Contrapuntal relationships in strict vs free composition
(Schenker 1906/1954, diagram, p. 204, German edition
only) [69]
vi
 List of music examples vii

4.4(a) J. S. Bach, C-minor organ prelude and fugue (Schenker 1906/

1954, example 154/120, p. 188/145) [74]
4.4(b) Chopin, Prelude, op. 28 no. 4 (Schenker 1906/1954, example
158/124, p. 192/148) [75]
4.5(a), (b) (a) J. S. Bach, E-minor organ prelude; (b) Contrapuntal
reduction (Schenker 1906/1954, examples 148, 149/114,
115, p. 185/142–43) [75]
5.1 Handel: G-major chaconne, variation II (Schenker 1910a/
1987, example 357, p. 314/241) [84]
5.2 Implied tones in Handel G-major chaconne, variation II
(Schenker 1910a/1987, example 358, p. 314/241) [84]
5.3 Handel: Suites de pièces no. 1, Air with variations, variation
I (Schenker 1910a/1987, example 48, p. 86/59) [85]
5.4 Handel: Suites de pièces, no. 1, Air with variations, variation
I: reduction with implied tone (Schenker 1910a/1987,
example 49 p. 86/59) [85]
5.5(a), (b) (a) J. S. Bach: English Suite no. 6: prelude; (b) Reduction
(Schenker 1910a/1987, example 76, p. 101/71) [86]
5.6(a) Strauss: Ein Heldenleben, op. 40; (b) Reduction (Schenker
1910a/1987, examples 65 and 66, p. 95/66) [86]
5.7 Mozart: Symphony no. 36, I, end of development (Schenker
1910a/1987, example 200, p. 204/148) [87]
5.8 Mozart: Symphony no. 36, I, layered reduction (Schenker
(1910a/1987), example 201, p. 205/149) [88]
5.9 J. S. Bach: English Suite no. 6, prelude: linear reduction
(Schenker 1910a/1987, example 120, p. 136/96) [90]
5.10(a), (b) Fux: strict-counterpoint exercises (Schenker 1922/1987,
examples 334 and 335, p. 214/219) [94]
5.11(a), (b) Fux: exercises with whole-note voice deleted (Schenker
1922/1987, example 395, p. 259/269) [95]
6.1 J. S. Bach, Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue: reduction of
fugue subject (Schenker 1910b/1984, example 33,
p. 32/45) [108]
6.2 Beethoven: Piano Sonata, op. 110, I: harmonic reduction of
mm. 12–19 (Schenker 1914, figure 7, p. 21) [108]
6.3 Beethoven: Piano Sonata, op. 110, III, recitative: linear
reduction (Schenker 1914/1972a, figure 74, p. 62) [109]
6.4 Beethoven: Piano Sonata, op. 110, II: reduction of mm.
41–72 (Schenker 1914/1972a, figure 70, p. 56) [110]
viii List of music examples

6.5 Beethoven: Piano Sonata, op. 110, II: reduction of top-voice

figuration, mm. 41–48 (Schenker 1914/1972a, figure 64,
p. 54) [111]
6.6 Beethoven: Piano Sonata, op. 101, II: reduction of mm. 11–37
(Schenker 1921/1972b, figure 29, pp. 37–38) [113]
7.1 J. S. Bach: Little Prelude no. 5: reduction (Schenker 1921–24/
2004–05, issue 5, figure 1, p. 8/180.2) [122]
7.2 Chord of nature transformations (Schenker 1921–24/
2004–05, issue 8/9, figures 1, 2, 3, p. 49/117.1) [124]
7.3(a), (b) Passing-tone and arpeggiation conversions (Schenker
1921–24/2004–05, issue 8/9, figures 4c and 7,
pp. 49–50/117.2) [125]
7.4 Beethoven: Piano Sonata, op. 10 no. 1: reduction of mm. 1–21
(Schenker 1925/1994, figure 2, pp. 189–90/106.1) [128]
7.5 Haydn: Piano Sonata in C, Hob. XVI:48, IV, mm. 123–29
(Schenker 1925/1994, figure 7, p. 124/108.2) [129]
7.6 Chopin: Berceuse, op. 57: reduction of mm. 1–5 (Schenker
1926/1996, figure 2, p. 13/2.2) [131]
7.7 Chopin: Nocturne, op. 9 no. 2: reduction (Schenker 1926/
1996, figure 8, p. 17/5.1) [132]
7.8 Elaborations of bass arpeggiation (Schenker 1926/1996,
figure 14, p. 21/8.1) [133]
7.9 J. S. Bach: B-flat-minor fugue from The Well-Tempered
Clavier I, mm. 55–63 and reduction (Schenker 1926/1996,
figure 29, p. 33/14.2) [134]
7.10 C. P. E. Bach: C-major Piano Sonata, I: Urlinie-Tafel
(Schenker 1921–24/2004–05, issue 4, Beilage/150–51) [139]
7.11 C. P. E. Bach: C-major Piano Sonata, I: reduction of mm.
44–51 (Schenker 1921–24/2004–05, issue 4, figure 1,
p. 37/152.2) [141]
7.12 Mendelssohn: “Lied ohne Worte,” op. 67 no. 6: reduction
(Schenker 1921–24/2004–05, issue 10, figure 1,
p. 30/150.1) [142]
7.13 Mozart: Piano Sonata K 310, I: reduction of development
(Schenker 1921–24/2004–05, issue 2, figure 1,
p. 10/57.2) [143]
7.14 Beethoven: Symphony no. 5, II: reduction of mm. 123–76
(Schenker 1921–24/2004–05, issue 5, figure 6,
p. 37/205.2) [144]
 List of music examples ix

7.15 Mozart: Symphony no. 40 in G minor, I: middleground

analysis of development section (Schenker 1926/1996,
figure 1d, fragment, Anhang/60–61) [148]
7.16 Beethoven: Symphony no. 3: middleground analysis of
scherzo, first half (Schenker 1930/1997, figure 33,
Anhang/42–43) [150]
8.1 Beethoven: Piano Sonata, op. 10 no. 3, II: analysis (Schenker
1935/1979, example 39.2, p. 13) [166]
 Acknowledgements

This study was many years in planning, originally beginning as an article

that was gradually expanded until it reached book-length proportions.
I am no longer sure when early work began, but certainly well over a decade
ago. At its outset, Schenker’s theory was but one of several topics that
concerned me; but during several subsequent periods, particularly
immediately preceding this publication, it occupied me especially.
A sizeable body of literature on Schenker’s theory and its conceptual
foundations already exists, and I have relied heavily upon the work of
many colleagues in writing this book. Some are friends with whom I have
discussed Schenker at length, while others I know primarily through
publications; and much of their work is cited during the course of this
book. But since I have not been able to mention them all, I want to
thank them here collectively for contributing to my view of Schenker,
which would otherwise have been altogether different. Although this
book takes a path of its own, it repeats many points covered by other
scholars; and to them, particularly those who have dealt with Schenker’s
history and his work’s meaning – a list including (to name only some) Ian
Bent, David Berry, William Drabkin, Stephen Hinton, William Pastille,
Hedi Siegel, and William Rothstein – I acknowledge my great indebtedness.
In addition, a number of books and dissertations on Schenker have
appeared in the relatively recent past, by such eminent scholars as Leslie
David Blasius, Matthew Brown, Nicholas Cook, Martin Eybl, Nicolas
Meeùs, Eugene Narmour, William Pastille, and Robert Snarrenberg.1
Although these books inevitably overlap in part with this one, none shares
its concentration on Schenker’s overall theoretical development; and
those that deal with his ideology do so in very different ways. I nevertheless
want to acknowledge Nicholas Cook’s The Schenker Project for its
treatment of Schenker as a social, political, and philosophical force,
who can be understood only in relation to contemporary (especially
Viennese) Germanic and German-Jewish thought. This book had a

1
Brown (2006), Blasius (1996), Cook (2007), Eybl (1995), Meeùs (1993), Narmour (1977), Pastille
x (1985), and Snarrenberg (1997).
 Acknowledgements xi

significant influence on my own, and brought about one important alter-

ation: the brief discussion of ornamentation originally included in the
section on synthesis in Chapter 6 (pp. 98–116) has been replaced by a
much longer one with a section of its own.
Of the countless articles on Schenker that have been published during
the same period, many covering some aspect of his work relevant to the
present book have been cited within the text. But one that played a
particularly important role in its preparation should be noted here: William
Rothstein’s extended article/review of the Schenker-related entries in the
second edition of The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians.2
Despite its stated purpose, this article provides an unusually knowledgeable
and wide-ranging treatment of many of Schenker’s theoretical ideas; and
I benefited greatly from it.
Joseph Auner and Peter Smith, two former students of mine, now
distinguished professors (one specializing in musicology, the other in
music theory), read an earlier draft of the entire book and made numerous
valuable suggestions for improvement. In writing this final version, I have
relied heavily on their advice and owe both my deepest thanks; without
their input this book would have been completely different. The three
outside anonymous reader reports also had a significant effect on the
book, especially on its manner of presentation. I also want to thank
those at Cambridge University Press who assisted me, especially Vicki
Cooper, the Press’s Senior Commissioning Editor for Music and Theater
(whom I first met during her graduate-school days at the University
of Chicago), who worked long and diligently on my manuscript; and
Fleur Jones, for invaluable assistance with various publishing issues. Also
to be thanked is Guillermo Brachetta, who provided excellent copies for all
of the examples, most of which (including without exception the more
complex ones) first appeared in Schenker’s own publications.
Most of the earlier work on this book took place at Yale University,
where I had the luxury of constant contact with both students and faculty
who knew a great deal about Schenker. I especially want to thank several
colleagues there: Allen Forte, Daniel Harrison, James Hepokoski, Patrick
McCreless, and Richard Cohn. All played an important part – though no
doubt largely unknown to themselves – in shaping my ideas on the theorist.
The students with whom I worked at Yale, as well as those at the University
of Chicago and Temple University, also influenced me immeasurably, especi-
ally through participation in numerous classes and seminars on Schenker.

2
Rothstein (2001).
xii Acknowledgements

While at Yale I also had the advantage of working in its wonderful

research library, which contained virtually all of Schenker’s works in
both original editions and translation. I benefited incalculably from this
sympathetic environment, where all questions were answered instan-
taneously by helpful staff members. Among those who assisted me, Susan
Eggleston Lovejoy and Karl Schrom deserve particular thanks.
I also want to acknowledge the following publishers and individuals
who own copyrights for the various Schenker works and have allowed
me to quote copyrighted texts and examples from their lists: Columbia
University Press, Georg Olms Verlag, Hellmut Federhofer, Musicalia
Press, Pendragon Press, Theoria, The University of Chicago Press,
William Drabkin, Yale University Press, and especially Universal Edition.
Finally, I thank my wife Carole Morgan, to whom this book is dedicated.
Herself a flutist, she has shared my professional career for many
years, holding positions in the music departments at the last three univer-
sities with which I was associated. She has also supported me over many
years, including those in which this book took form, and has done so
in more ways than I can possibly express.
Preface

Heinrich Schenker’s mature theory of music occupies a unique position

in the history of tonal music. It attempts to explain the pitch structure of
a limited portion of this music (a portion that Schenker believed was
the only music worth considering) totally and with complete rationality.
Nevertheless, there are some distinct peculiarities to the theory, one of
the most telling being that it contains an ideological paradox consisting
of two apparently independent and opposed philosophical strains: a
nineteenth-century Idealist one and a twentieth-century Modernist one.
Although both influenced the theory’s formation in a critical way, the
Idealist one should be considered the dominant one, for it supplied
the theory with its basic core – the spirituality of tone. This belief deter-
mined not only Schenker’s general view of music but his overall theoretical
development; and it is probably not too much to say that his mature
theory was created largely as an effort to explain how individual composi-
tions could express their spiritual basis and acquire such fundamental
Schenkerian concepts as the notion of compositional unfolding, the
Ursatz (and its components, the Urlinie and bass arpeggiation), and all
the other transformational operations.
This idealist influence was evident in Schenker’s earliest theoretical
writings, which dated from the opening years of the twentieth century.
He initially expressed the idea of tone’s spirituality in his first fully theor-
etical work, the Harmonielehre of 1906 (its influence limited, however,
to music’s harmonic domain); and it was even presaged – if somewhat
contrarily – in the earlier “pre-theoretic” article “Der Geist der musika-
lischen Technik” of 1895. Schenker was not, however, simply content to
state that tone was spiritual; he was equally committed to explaining
it theoretically. And for that his theory required significant modernist
additions, above all the hierarchical and notational features and basic
compositional orientation, for all of which it also became famous. In
addition, the theory needed a substantial amount of time to reach full
development, a span essentially covering the rest of Schenker’s life.
Schenker’s mature theory, then, including the unusual idealist–modernist
mix that underlay it, was completed during his final years and reached full xiii
xiv Preface

maturity only in his last publication, Der freie Satz. Nevertheless, Schenker
seems to have realized – certainly unconsciously but at times with consid-
erable foresight – that his overall development pointed in some sense
toward this theory. Although his work always provoked great interest,
evident at various points of his development, it can thus be beneficially
viewed as evolving toward the final theory. Of course most commentators,
myself included, do not view his final theory as the perfect culmination
of his entire previous development; yet, as seen in Part II, devoted entirely
to his theoretical evolution, there are aspects of this development, and
arguably the most important ones, that gain clarity when looked at from
the perspective of its completion.
This book was written, then, in the belief that Schenker can be under-
stood only when considered in a dual light: in terms of his overall theoretical
development, and also in terms of the peculiar mixture of ideological
elements that contributed to his work’s character. Both factors, the evolu-
tion through which it acquired final shape and the ideology that supplied
its necessary background – played essential roles in its development and
are absolutely critical if we are to understand it adequately. Indeed, it is
difficult if not impossible to see how the theory could have come into
existence at all without the presence of both ingredients, its development
and ideology.1
The conflicted nature of Schenker’s theory must thus be stressed even
in these brief introductory remarks. On the one hand, it was based on the
empirical assumption that musical understanding is derived from close
musical observation, and that it depends upon contrapuntal principles
that were put together during the tonal period itself. On the other hand,
it did not simply accept these contrapuntal categories but extended them
to cover ever larger expanses of music, eventually entire compositions.
And this necessitated considering music idealistically: as natural, organic,
and derived from the “chord of nature,” and as consisting of goal-directed

1
Other Schenker commentators have of course been aware of this ideological split in his work; but
while their writings have certainly influenced my own, their tendency has been to emphasize one
side of his philosophical position at the expense of the other, as if only one had been adopted or a
permanent shift was made from one to the other. This is the case, for example, in Blasius (1996),
Karnes (2008), and Korsyn (1993) and (2009), all of whom write about Schenker’s philosophical
background, though they disagree as to whether it was determined by a change (Karnes and
Blasius) or not (Korsyn), by his turn to a more empirical (Karnes or Korsyn) or critical approach
(Blasius), or whether it was primarily defined in the later pre-theoretical articles (Karnes), in
“Geist” (Korsyn), or in Kontrapunkt I (Blasius). I prefer, on the other hand, to see both idealism
and empiricism as consistently present throughout Schenker’s entire theoretical career, and thus
evident in all of his professional writings.
 Preface xv

tones with “egos” that allowed for long-range prolongations. For Schenker,
then, music depended upon both contrapuntal operations originally
established in the eighteenth century, such as basic voice-leading types
like passing motion, neighbor relationships, and arpeggiated leaps, as well
as listener-oriented psychological processes primarily developed in the
nineteenth century, such as mental retention, musical depth, and substit-
ution, all of which incorporated “invisible” features located beneath music’s
surface.
Schenker’s life itself was rather uneventful. He was born in 1868 in
Galicia of a Jewish family in the outer reaches of the Austro-Hungarian
Empire; and he died in 1935 in Vienna, a prominent but still largely
unknown figure, even in musical circles. Yet he was, and remains, a
central – if controversial – figure in music theory, both because of the
nature of his theory and because of his opinions concerning other general
matters, especially music history but including all sorts of things. As for his
theory, he claimed that music was totally explicable if its interpretation
was directed toward a single dimension, pitch, which he believed – though
with some inconsistency – was the sole parameter that could be logically
explained once and for all. As for music history, prior to Bach and Handel
it represented only a long preparation for the relatively few eighteenth-
and nineteenth-century compositions he considered masterpieces, while
after Brahms it experienced a sudden decline in a search for new methods
that proved hopelessly beyond its true nature.
For Schenker, then, music history revealed a “grand narrative” in develo-
ping from relatively primitive beginnings until it attained the tools capable
of producing great works, a period lasting only two centuries, after which
it underwent precipitous decline. The controversy that surrounded him is
thus partly attributable to this attainment–loss view, in support of which
his theory could be said to have developed. But this view leaves open two
important questions: why this concentration on a small group of works,
and why attention to only a single musical parameter? One answer, perhaps,
is that, despite obvious disadvantages, both enabled him to say something
essential that would otherwise have been missing about the small body of
eighteenth- and nineteenth-century music to which his attention was
directed. Though the theory does not of course tell us everything we
would like to know about this music, it does attempt to explain one of
its most critical features: how its pitches operate.
This book, then, offers a conceptual overview of Schenker’s theoretical
development and ideological position, and it attempts to tell how his
work aimed to fulfill its admittedly limited yet important role. Despite a
xvi Preface

certain amount of information about the theorist’s life and character, the
focus is thus primarily on the theory itself and on the Schenkerian
“mentalité” that supported it (even though it was largely inherited from
thinkers outside of the music field itself ).
Schenker’s specifically theoretical development can be conveniently
divided chronologically into two parts, a first phase, beginning in 1903
and leading up to the final theory in about 1920, and a second phase
during which the final theory itself took shape, beginning about 1920 and
extending until Schenker’s death in 1935. The first phase is of great
interest in itself, not only because of its relation to the final theory but due
to its own particular quality. In fact, many actually prefer it to the later
one, not least because it contains an informal attitude toward how music is
organized. But since my own interest is primarily with the close ties
linking the two phases, this book concentrates mainly on ideas from
the first phase that lead to those in the second.
As for the book’s readership, it was not conceived for experts alone
but also for those musically literate who have only a general interest in
the current state of music theory. Three segments warrant particular
attention in this regard, all of them containing relatively detailed descrip-
tions of Schenker graphs: Section 7 of Chapter 2 (pp. 33–36), Section 3 of
Chapter 7 (pp. 145–53), and Section 4 of Chapter 8 (pp. 165–71) – the
first and last treating one graph, the second two. While these pose more
technical difficulties than other parts and require a degree of specialized
knowledge, they can nevertheless be skimmed over without unduly
compromising the larger argument.
A word is in order about the concept of “final theory,” which I have
used – and will continue to use – with reference to the culmination of
Schenker’s second phase of development. This began to assume concrete
shape only during the 1920s, in the successive issues of Der Tonwille
and volumes of Das Meisterwerk in der Musik, and took on final form only
in 1926, when Schenker was in his late fifties and had less than a decade to
live. Even at that point, the theory had to await absolute completion until the
final volume of Meisterwerk in 1930, and its complete presentation did not
appear until Der freie Satz, published shortly following his death. Moreover,
“final,” as well as its complement “mature,” relates not just to the theory itself
but to the highly systematic and self-contained character of the later work,
giving it both a chronological and theoretical meaning. For only in the last
five or six years of his life, the period for which he is now primarily known, did
Schenker’s musical vision reach full maturity and the previously mentioned
“grand historical narrative” acquire explicitly musical form.
 Preface xvii

Though the eighty years since Schenker died have left us in a better
position to understand the long-range implications of his work, his role in
today’s musical life remains much contested. This primarily results from
three reasons, all stressed in this book: his later theory’s overall character,
its limited reach, and its ideological underpinnings. For some the mature
theory simply tries to do too much and for the wrong reasons, so that
they would prefer to ignore it; while others feel that another book on
Schenker is unnecessary at this time, when the main focus of musical
thought has shifted away from “music itself,” Schenker’s main interest,
to its function within the larger social and political framework, something
about which he said relatively little. My own feeling, however, is that both
these opinions are short-sighted. Whatever Schenker’s limitations, his final
theory is important both because it tells us much about what music
theory can and cannot be and because it succeeds so well in saying some-
thing important about the music it addresses.
Regarding organization, Part I contains two chapters that provide the
base for what follows: Chapter 1, a general introduction to Schenker; and
Chapter 2, an in-advance view of the mature theory as a whole. Part II, the
book’s heart, contains six chapters surveying Schenker’s major theoretical
publications in essentially chronological order. The first of these, Chapter 3,
deals with a critical early article, “Der Geist der musikalischen Technik”
(“The Spirit of Musical Technique”), written in 1895 before Schenker
turned to music theory proper but essential for understanding his theor-
etical development. The following three chapters, 4–6, address Schenker’s
first phase as a theorist, treating works published between 1903 and 1922.
The first two, Chapters 4 and 5, cover the opening two treatises of his basic
theoretical trilogy, Neue musikalische Theorien und Phantasien: Die
Harmonielehre of 1906, Schenker’s initial publication devoted solely to
theoretical matters; and the two volumes of Kontrapunkt, published in
1910 and 1922. Chapter 6 follows with the seven monographs on individual
composers (and with one exception, individual compositions), which
appeared irregularly between 1903 and 1921, and thus cover roughly
the same period as the two previous chapters.
Chapters 7 and 8 of Part II, overlapping slightly with the preceding
two, deal with the second developmental phase, from 1921 to 1935. The
first treats the two periodical series, Der Tonwille (ten issues between 1921
and 1924) and Das Meisterwerk in der Musik (three volumes dating
from 1925, 1926, and 1930), both of which stem from the decade in
which the elements of the final theory were solidified. The second,
Chapter 8, deals with Schenker’s last publication, Der freie Satz, the final
xviii Preface

volume in his theoretical trilogy and the culmination of his mature theory,
which appeared shortly after his death in 1935.
Part III, containing the final three chapters, drops the relatively neutral
perspective of Parts I and II for a more critical tone, giving attention to both
the theory’s advantages and disadvantages. All three chapters emphasize
the final theory, the first, Chapter 9, its ideological issues and the second,
Chapter 10, its musical-technical ones, while the final one, Chapter 11,
comments more generally on Schenker’s position in intellectual history
and takes a final look at the mature theory.
The volume’s main segment, Part II, thus consists of a historical survey of
all of Schenker’s main works. It has been shaped by two assumptions
that may require some explanation: that Schenker’s evolution can be
understood as basically consistent and unidirectional, and that it moves
toward the final theory. Both are controversial and necessitate simplifying
his development, which was by no means entirely undeviating. Indeed, I do
not myself feel that a direct line can be drawn between all the ideas
expressed in Schenker’s early works and those in the later ones, nor that
they are in any way equivalent. But I do feel that some concepts expressed
in the early works anticipate later ones in a way that seems both powerful
and inevitable. It is not, then, that the earlier works completely predict the
subsequent ones, but that some ideas introduced there can be viewed as both
related to later ones and providing them a sort of prior foundation.2 These
assumptions do, moreover, enable the book to assume a more integrated
and straightforward course. And though they cannot be said to tell us the
entire Schenkerian story (whatever that might be), they do allow this book
to unfold as smoothly as possible by concentrating on the theory’s teleology.
Nothing essential, moreover, is omitted from Schenker’s development; and
the result produced, though necessarily incomplete, is not misleading.
An additional advantage to the assumption of goal-directedness is that it
facilitates a picture that is consistent with Schenker’s own. The theorist
always considered that his work – above all when he looked at it in retro-
spect – was aimed at a definite result. This is not to say that his formulations

2
Among those who have attacked a teleological approach, Keiler (1989, pp. 273–74) notes the
presence of a general “straightjacket” attitude in Schenker studies, prone to accept not only
connections between ideas encountered in his early theoretical works and those in the mature
ones, but equivalences and identities. In particular he faults Oswald Jonas, who, in editing the
English translation of Schenker’s Harmonielehre, seems to adopt such a teleological point of view,
noting the anticipation there of such mature techniques as Auskomponierung, Schichten, and
Entfaltung, as well as middleground and background. I avoid this detailed and specific notion of
anticipation, however, confining myself to more general concepts readily understood as related to,
while not completely anticipating, the final theory.
 Preface xix

were preordained, or necessary, or that they resulted in theoretical progress

(though he himself obviously thought they did). But if Schenker’s own
assumptions are accepted, even temporarily, his final theory can emerge as
an accomplishment of major, if only partial, musical vision.
An organizational feature requiring comment is the relationship between
Schenker’s ideological-aesthetic position and his theoretical formulations.
Although the entire volume assumes that the two interact closely, this
becomes evident only gradually. Thus Part I’s general introduction and
“in-advance” view of Schenker’s final theory almost entirely avoids their
interconnection; while Part II’s first chapter is devoted largely to ideology,
as it treats an article that deals almost exclusively with that topic. Part II’s
Chapters 4 and 5, however, switch focus by concentrating on the
specifically musical-theoretical concepts that resulted from the aesthetic
topics presented in the previous one. Ideological matters having been
downplayed, they reappear at length in Part II’s Chapter 6 (especially
Sections 1 [pp. 99–101] and 2 [pp. 101–02] and Chapter 8 (Sections 5
[pp. 171–75], 6 [pp. 175–78], and the close of 7 [pp. 178–80]). The three
chapters of Part III use their more critical approach to treat first extramusi-
cal issues in Chapter 9, and then musical ones in Chapter 10, while the final
one, Chapter 11, deals with both in roughly equal measure.
It should be clear, then, that this book is not a “how-to” treatise on
Schenkerian analysis. Several Schenker primers are available for those
who wish them, but little information is offered here about how an
analysis should be undertaken or notated. In addition, the book was not
written by a dyed-in-the-wool Schenkerian. I have been aware of the
theorist since undergraduate days, have studied, admired, and taught his
analytical approach many times, and published numerous articles related
to him both directly and indirectly, but I am by no measure one of his
true disciples. I admire Schenker, but I do not think his analytical
approach is the only valid one, or that the compositions in his canon are
the only ones worthy of theoretical attention. This is not, then, an account
from within, but an attempt to provide a sympathetic and even-handed
consideration of his work. There are disadvantages, obviously, to being an
outsider in Schenkerian scholarship; but in my view these are more than
outweighed by the advantages of relative objectivity.
Two features above all distinguish this book. First, it treats Schenker’s
entire theoretical development as presented in all of the major published
works; and second, it examines the impact on his theory of more
general, non-musical ideas. It also quotes Schenker frequently. Although
this is space-consuming (Schenker was not one always to express himself
xx Preface

succinctly, or stay on a single path), its benefits should be evident, as it

allows him to speak of his own work in his own voice. Though this also
comes with a downside (Schenker’s tendency to view his own theory in a
rosy light), I have tried to counter this by taking a skeptical view with
regard to much that he says.
Schenker quotations are cited first by their original German page
number (in some cases from the second edition), then by page number
for the English translation. Italicized passages always correspond with
the original; and in cases where translations were not available, I have
provided my own. Since the German originals are in some cases more
complete than the translations used here, these are all included in an
appendix.
One disadvantage of relying so heavily upon Schenker’s own words is
that there is relatively limited information concerning the relationship of
his work to that of other Western theorists, since he was not overly
generous in conferring credit on others. I have also restricted the primary
sources I have used mainly to those that appeared in works that were
published during Schenker’s lifetime: the three treatises “by an artist”: Die
Harmonielehre, Kontrapunkt I and II, and Der freie Satz; the seven mono-
graphs; and the ten issues of Der Tonwille and three volumes of Das
Meisterwerk in der Musik. This may seem problematic, as Schenker
also published numerous articles; and a significant body of previously
unpublished material has become available since his death. None of the
articles (excepting the one considered in Chapter 3), however, contains
information that is vital to Schenker’s overall development; and while
I do not doubt the significance of the posthumous material, I prefer to
treat Schenker essentially as he presented himself: through works made
publicly available during his own lifetime and cited in his own writings.
Moreover, no recently published material (some of which is nevertheless
cited) contains information that would significantly alter the argument
presented here.
part i

Theory
1 Introduction

The highest triumph, the proudest joy in hearing a work of Art is to raise
and enhance the ear, as it were, to the power of the eye. Think of a
broad and beautiful landscape surrounded by mountains and hills, full of
fields and meadows and forests and streams, full of everything that Nature
brings forth in beauty and variety. And then climb up to a spot that makes
accessible to the eye the entire landscape in one instant: how there,
encompassed by the wandering gaze, the joyful, tiny paths and rivers and
villages and forests and everything that lives and does not live are
interconnected! So too, located somewhere high above the work of art,
there is a point from which the spirit clearly overlooks and overhears the
entire work, all of its paths and goals, the lingering and rushing, all variety
and boundedness, all dimensions and proportions. Only he who has found
this high point – and from such a perspective also the composer must
unfold his work – can honestly say that he has “heard” the work. But there
exist, in truth, only a few such hearers.

Schenker (1990), p. 103

These words close one of Heinrich Schenker’s earliest essays, “Das Hören
in der Musik” (“Hearing in Music”), published in 1894, some three years
after he began his Viennese musical career as composer, essayist and
reviewer. The passage is remarkably prescient, anticipating the basic idea
of Schenker’s mature theory to such an extent that one is inclined to see
his entire theoretical evolution as a response to its challenge: to find a way
of hearing and representing music like a landscape, simultaneously and
as a whole. This meant looking at it from a visual “high point,” from an
all-embracing, bird’s-eye perspective that allowed its overall pattern to be
instantaneously surveyed. Or, shifting the focus from listener to work, it
enabled compositions to display their overall coherence.1
The present book traces Schenker’s development toward this goal, focusing
on both the theoretical particulars of his theory and the key ideas, aesthetic

1
In addition to the idea of a comprehensive overview, two other points in this passage are
significant for Schenker’s development: the landscape view is obtained only through spirit (Geist)
and achieved only by a limited number of people. 3
4 Theory

and ideological, that helped shape it. It thus offers a conceptual history of
Schenker’s work in terms of the musical and extramusical concepts that
determined it. Though the quote opening this chapter is essentially visual
in nature, it encouraged Schenker to formulate principles of musical organi-
zation that were different from, and much more specific than, those found
in the visual arts. The quote, moreover, forms part of an internally consistent
ideological framework that developed before Schenker’s theory began taking
shape and helped lead him toward it.

Ideology

Since ideology, as a conceptual framework through which experience is

filtered as part of a more orderly overall picture, is often viewed with suspi-
cion, some explanation of its stress here seems appropriate. Distrust of
ideology stems mainly from the negative meaning it acquired through asso-
ciation with Marxism, within which it has consistently been understood as a
source of “false consciousness” that distorted normal conceptions of material
reality by turning them upside down, rather like a camera obscura. Yet
ideologies can also be consensual and pervasive, and they can exist in forms
that reflect general social and intellectual positions rather than specifically
political ones. In addition, they are held with various degrees of emphasis,
professed or unacknowledged, conscious or unconscious, rigid or flexible. In
this more general sense, ideology exists behind all forms of thought, including
Schenker’s.
Indeed, Schenker was surprisingly encompassing, rigid, and open in
stating the ideology behind his work, to whose underlying assumptions he
was unequivocally inclined. He seems to have been unusually conscious of
the close connections between his musical ideas and those pertaining
to other matters, as he consistently justified the former by referring to the
latter. Not surprisingly, then, a number of scholars have examined the
conceptual roots of Schenker’s musical thought; but they have also often
identified a single predecessor or intellectual movement as his primary
source.2
While I do not doubt the importance of particular intellectual currents in
shaping Schenker’s world view, I prefer to see him as someone with a wide
range of intellectual interests, unattached to any single influence. A thinker

2
For example, Clifton (1970), Barford (1975), Solie (1980), Pastille (1985), Korsyn (1988),
Pastille (1990b), and Snarrenberg (1997).
 Introduction 5

embracing a broad sphere of concerns, some conscious and others not, he

held ideological views that were also commonly held by a number of non-
musical thinkers of his time. These profoundly influenced the shape of his
musical thought, despite being drawn from a variety of different fields –
philosophical, literary, legal, and others. It thus seems difficult to me, indeed
impossible, to pinpoint a single source for his ideology, parts of which were
shared by numerous contemporaries and forerunners. Indeed, Schenker’s
ideology was for the most part set before he turned to theory proper; yet it
was essential, its aesthetic and philosophical principles providing a critical
nexus for his subsequent musical purposes.
The fact that Schenker studied law was thus clearly important in the
formulation of his musical theory.3 Yet the law of Schenker’s time shared
many basic assumptions with other disciplines and formed but one part of
a larger intellectual mix. Many of the most critical legal ideas – for example,
the significance of human interaction, a balance between unity and diver-
sity, the interrelationship of parts within a collective whole, a belief in
teleological historical development, and a single cause behind all events –
had their source in the overall intellectual tradition of his time.
As mentioned, it is difficult to imagine Schenker’s theory as having come
into existence without this larger intellectual background, which served
to encourage his development of an entirely new conception of musical
organization. No previous theorist offered such a synoptic view of music
that included both the particulars and internal workings of its construction.
Indeed, simply to have envisioned such a detailed explanation of music,
even if primarily limited to pitch alone, would count as an extraordinary
achievement; but to have realized it in such an all-encompassing manner
was truly remarkable.

Life and character

This section traces the major events in Schenker’s life, as well as his personal
manner, raising questions about his upbringing and personality relevant
to his theoretical development. Perhaps most surprising, however, is how
unlikely it was that someone with Schenker’s background could ever for-
mulate such a complex and innovative theory of music. Though he is now
widely recognized as the foremost music theorist of the twentieth century,
by both those who approve of his work and those who do not, he began life

3
The significance of Schenker’s study of law has been impressively documented in Alpern (1999).
6 Theory

as an improbable candidate for this role. Born in 1868 in Wisniowczyk,

in Galicia (now Poland), of largely non-musical Jewish parents (his mother
could play the piano, but his father was an impoverished physician), Schenker
was raised in very simple circumstances in an outlying and culturally
deprived region of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. He attended school first
in Lemberg (now L’viv), then in Brzežany. He was nevertheless able to study
piano with the Chopin pupil Karol Mikuli, who at that time lived in Lemberg,
and he relocated to Vienna at 16 in 1884 (without family) and remained there
for the rest of his life. The purpose of his move to the capital city was not
to study music, however, but in conformity with his father’s wish that he
study law at the University of Vienna. He thus completed eight semesters of
law courses between 1884 and 1888 and received his law degree there in 1890.
Schenker’s shift to music theory was initially tentative. In 1887 (his twen-
tieth year, the year of his father’s death) he concurrently enrolled at the
Vienna Conservatory, where he studied piano with Ernst Ludwig, harmony
with Anton Bruckner, and composition with Johann Nepomuk Fuchs. But
he left the Conservatory without a degree in order to begin a career in Vienna
as a freelance composer, pianist, reviewer and feuilletonist. Only in the early
twentieth century, after he had given up both composing and reviewing
entirely, did his interests turn to music theory. But from this point on he
pursued it actively for the remainder of his life, teaching it, along with piano
performance and music editing (for which he became quite active), in order to
earn his living.
Significantly, then, Schenker’s theoretical concerns appeared only after
he himself no longer composed, and after the “common-practice” period of
tonality had ended (or at least could no longer be considered “common”); as
a consequence his theoretical work, while entirely devoted to tonal music,
was developed in a sense outside the world of tonality.4 In addition, he was,
and always remained, an outsider in the Viennese musical establishment.
He never held an official musical position in it, nor really belonged to it
properly in any way. Rather, he worked privately, always in difficult finan-
cial circumstances, existing through what he earned from piano lessons,
critical work, and the kindness of wealthy disciples.
With this background, Schenker hardly seemed destined for musical
fame. Yet despite his isolation from the centers of Viennese musical
power, certain aspects of his life and personality did support his theoretical
ambitions. First, he was a gifted and successful pianist, who during the 1890s
had frequently accompanied well-known soloists, including the Dutch

4
See Morgan (2002), p. 252.
 Introduction 7

baritone Johannes Messchaert. Jeanette Kornfeld Schenker (née Schiff ),

herself a musician formerly married to his friend Emil Kornfeld, also played
an essential role in Schenker’s professional life. Leaving her husband in
1910, she provided Schenker with various kinds of critical aid and, becom-
ing his wife in 1919, eventually also became, due to his failing eyesight, both
amanuensis and editor. Schenker also possessed a strong, even formidable
character, which enabled him to pursue his theoretical interests without
concern for the difficulties in his way. He was in addition extremely char-
ismatic, enjoying close association not only with students but with a number
of well-known contemporary musicians, including the conductor Wilhelm
Furtwängler.
Schenker was also fortunate in attracting a number of gifted students
committed to spreading his ideas. Several, including Hans Weisse, Oswald
Jonas, and Felix Salzer, immigrated to the United States during the 1930s,
where they established themselves as important figures who contributed
significantly to his fame. Other pupils, notably Anthony van Hoboken,
made financial contributions that helped defer expenses connected with
his publications and established an Archiv für Photogramme musikalischer
Meister-Handschriften in his name, located at the National Library in
Vienna. Yet despite his growing fame in North America and the British
Isles, Schenker remained a surprisingly marginal figure in Germany,
Austria, and elsewhere in continental Europe. He had a number of prom-
inent European students, however; and during the 1930s, Schenker insti-
tutes were established in Hamburg and Vienna, but both abruptly closed
when the Nazis came to power.5
Other personal traits help explain why Schenker was such a prominent
yet controversial figure, and perhaps also why detractors have reacted so
negatively to his work. One can accept or reject, for example, Rameau’s
basse fondamentale without doubting the importance of his idea in musical
thought or central position within Western musical history. But Schenker
is different. One reason may be, to borrow a well-known distinction, that
he was a “hedgehog” rather than a “fox”: someone who held unreservedly to
a single overriding belief.6 Like most hedgehogs, Schenker had ancillary
interests; but in our age, in which individual theoretical ideas, if united at
all, tend to be lumped together in a sort of bricolage, his single-mindedness

5
The information about Schenker’s life and character is primarily derived from Hellmut
Federhofer’s biographical essay in Schenker (1985) and Ian Bent and William Drabkin’s
“Schenker Documents Online,” both of which are extremely valuable.
6
The “hedgehog–fox” distinction was reintroduced into twentieth-century thought by the
cultural historian Isaiah Berlin (1953).
8 Theory

distinguishes him. Indeed, Schenker’s belief in his own cause amounted to a

sort of mania; and this has no doubt affected his wider acceptance.
Schenker was also remarkably polemical in nature, a trait to which he
gave expression in virtually everything he wrote. While, like many others, he
defended his right to state his opinions in whatever manner he wished, this
quality represented such a pervasive part of his personality, and assumed
such virulent forms, that it seems virtually impossible to separate it from the
work’s content. Indeed, his boldly stated opinions and negative assessments
of others seem to place his very motivation into question, and contribute as
well to his unpopularity.
In addition, this unalloyed belief in his own project formed part of
Schenker’s inability, especially in later years, to accept his work simply as a
theory rather than as verifiable fact. Yet theories, even those widely accepted,
necessarily go beyond the facts upon which they are based, making them
susceptible to future revision and even complete rejection. Yet Schenker
believed – and consistently stressed – that his final theory provided music
with ultimate truth, producing an absolutism evident not only in his musical
views but in those concerning essentially all topics about which he expressed
himself.
That Schenker lived in Vienna and did his theoretical work there is also
significant. By the time he relocated there, Vienna had become a center of
modernism, encouraging everything new in European art and ideas. This
allows us to view his work within a larger intellectual context. As Carl
E. Schorske, among many others, has shown, the city was ripe for innova-
tion as the nineteenth century waned, and enjoyed the presence of many
modernist pioneers in the creative arts, including Arnold Schoenberg in
music, Hugo von Hofmannsthal in literature, Gustav Klimt in painting,
and Otto Wagner in architecture and design.7 All contributed to the devel-
opment of modernism, altering our idea of art and what it could achieve.
Though many questions about modernism remain, there is little doubt
that it was characterized by such things as dynamic change, individualism,
innovation, and self-awareness. Schenker, despite his deeply conservative
opinions and interest in theory rather than composition, fits well within this
environment. His manner of viewing music was decidedly revolutionary,
offering a radically new conception of how the art was organized.
Perhaps the Viennese figure most resembling Schenker in total convic-
tion of his own accomplishments was neither an artist nor theorist, but the
psychiatrist Sigmund Freud. Like Schenker, he was Jewish and born outside

7
Schorske (1981).
Another random document with
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Casa dell’Ancora.
La Casa di Cajo Vibio, scoperta in questi ultimi anni, è nella Regione
VII isola II N. 18: si distingue dalle altre per la solidità e la buona
conservazione delle mura. Vedine l’illustrazione nel numero d’Agosto
1868 del Giornale degli Scavi, nuova serie. Quella di Gavio Rufo è
vicina: porta il n. 16 ed è illustrata nello stesso giornale, numero di
settembre. Quella di Caprasio Primo è al N. 48. Di fronte è la
taberna di M. Nonio Campano. Vol. II, cap. XVII pag. 327.
Via delle Terme.
Terme pubbliche. Vol. II cap. XV pag. 207.
Casa del poeta. Vol. III cap. XX pag. 83.
Son presso de’ termopolii o venditorii di bevande calde. Vol. II, cap.
XVII.
Casa di Pansa edile, e secondo alcuni, di Paratus. Vol. III cap. XX
pag. 62.
Casa del maestro di musica, in cui v’è il musaico all’ingresso,
raffigurante il cane col motto Cave Canem. Id. pag. 85.
Fontana. Vol. II, cap. XV 226.
Forno e Mulini. Vol. II, cap. XVII.
Casa di Cajo Sallustio. Vol. III cap. XX.
Forno pubblico. Vol. II, cap. XVII pag. 307, passim.
Cisterna pubblica. Vol. II, cap. XV.
A destra è un vicolo che mette capo alla Via di Mercurio, e di fronte a
tal vicolo presentasi un atrio con all’intorno alcune camere, nelle
quali è installata la Scuola archeologica di Pompei.
Scheletri di una madre e di una figlia, di una matrona e d’un uomo.
Vol. I, cap. V.
Telonium o Dogana. Vol. I, cap. IV pag. 103.
Casa detta del Chirurgo.
Casa delle Vestali.
Termopolio. Vol. II.
Albergo. Idem.
Fortificazioni e porta d’Ercolano a tre archi colle traccie della
saracinesca nell’arcata di mezzo. Vol. I, cap. VII pag. 187.
Via delle Tombe. Vol. III, cap. XXII pag. 345.
A sinistra:
Tomba di M. Cerrinio. Id. Ibid. pag. 346. A schivare ripetizioni, da
questa pagina in avanti stanno, fino a pag. 368, le dichiarazioni delle
pur seguenti tombe.
Tomba di Vejo e suo emiciclo.
Monumento ed emiciclo di Mammia.
A destra:
Tomba delle ghirlande.
Gran nicchia per riposo dei visitatori.
Giardino delle colonne in musaico.
Albergo e scuderia.
A sinistra:
Il Pompejanum, o casa di Cicerone. Non soltanto in questo capitolo
XXII, ma anzi più largamente è trattato di essa anche nel Vol. I, cap.
III pag. 83.
Tomba di Scauro.
Tomba circolare.
A destra:
Tomba della porta di marmo.
A sinistra:
Mausoleo di Cajo Calvenzio Quieto. Anche nel Vol. I, cap. IV pag.
101.
Cippi della famiglia Istacidia.
Tomba di Nevoleja Tiche e di Munazio Fausto. Vedi anche nel Vol. I,
cap. VI pag. 101.
Triclinio funebre.
Tomba di Marco Allejo Lucio Libella padre e Marco Libella figlio.
Tomba di Cajo Labeone.
Tomba del fanciullo Velasio Grato.
Tomba del fanciullo Salvio.
Chiudesi la Via delle Tombe e la serie quindi di esse coi sepolcri
della famiglia Arria di Marco Arrio Diomede, di Marco Arrio
primogenito, di Arria l’ottava figlia di Marco, di un’altra Arria e di
quelli tutti della famiglia di Diomede.
Casa di campagna di Marco Arrio Diomede. Vedi anche Vol. I, cap. V
pag. 143, Vol. II, cap. XV e Vol. III, cap. XX pag. 87.
Visitata così tutta la parte della città che è esumata, alla estremità di
essa, al fianco opposto a quello delle Tombe che abbiamo appena
lasciato, al basso della Via di Stabia, dopo alcuni passi oltre gli
scavi, e a traverso de’ campi coltivati, che celano ancora parte della
città, si giunge all’Anfiteatro, del quale si son date in questa edizione
incise la fronte esterna nel titolo del secondo volume dell’opera e nel
corpo, la veduta interna. Vol. II cap. XIV.
Questa rapida corsa potrà durare quattro ore e, se appena il lettore
ha sentimento artistico, ne ritrarrà di certo da una prima visita il
desiderio di altre, le quali certo gli verranno rivelando nuove cose
degnissime di osservazione e di nota, e sarà allora, io spero, che gli
torneranno più accetti questi miei studi, nel compire i quali, non
fatica e stanchezza, ma diletto e conforto ho ricavato sempre contro
la cospirazione del silenzio e la viltà di politici avversari, le codarde
compiacenze di insipienti Eliasti e la stupidità degli Iloti onde
abbonda la nostra terra, Saturnia tellus, che mantien vivo l’appetito
del vecchio Nume divoratore de’ suoi figliuoli e che così ne
compensa le veglie sudate e le opere generose.
Non mi mancarono tuttavia i plausi de’ buoni e gli onesti ed onorevoli
incoraggimenti e poichè nel pigliar le mosse di questi miei studj, io
ne proclamavo auspice quel fior di senno e d’onestà che è il mio
carissimo Pietro Cominazzi; così piacemi chiuderli ancora nel suo
nome e il lettore non ascriva a mia vanità, ma al volere di
quell’egregio, se finisco qui riferendo i versi de’ quali egli per
quest’opera mi voleva onorato
A P. A. CURTI
Sonetto

Lascia ch’io teco ammiri a parte a parte

Le combuste rovine, e di Pompei,
Col sagace poter delle tue carte,
L’immagine si desti agli occhi miei!

Qui s’ergeano i delubri, e qui dell’Arte

Del bello eternatrice e degli Dei
Immortale custode, ecco le sparte
Reliquie, onde il disìo pungi e ricrei.

Del suo classico peplo rivestita,

— Tanta innanzi mi scorre onda di vero, —
Pompei ne’ marmi e nello spirto ha vita.

Tu la vorace ira del tempo hai doma...

Nel passato io risorgo, e col pensiero
Teco son fatto cittadin di Roma.

FINE DEL VOLUME III E DELL’OPERA.

 INDICE DELLE ILLUSTRAZIONI

Volume primo.

I. Il Vesuvio, nel frontispizio.

II. La tomba di Virgilio, pag. 1.
III. Strada all’Eremitaggio del Vesuvio, pag. 61.
IV. Mensa Ponderaria, pag. 91.
V. Bilance Pompejane, pag. 104.
VI. La Catastrofe di Pompei, pag. 140.
VII. Scenografia degli Scavi nel 1868, pag. 161.
VIII. Porta d’Ercolano a Pompei, pag. 181.
IX. Via Consolare, pag. 195.
X. Arco trionfale alla Via di Mercurio, pag. 210.
XI. Il tempio di Venere, pag. 228.
XII. Il tempio di Iside, pag. 244.
XIII. Veduta generale del Foro Civile, pag. 313.
XIV. Foro Nundinario, pag. 319.

Volume secondo.

XV. Veduta esterna dell’Anfiteatro, nel frontispizio.

XVI. Odeum, o Teatro comico, pag. 20.
XVII. Anfiteatro interno, pag. 101.
XVIII. Tepidarium delle antiche terme, pag. 222.
XIX. Fontane, Crocicchi di Fortunata, pag. 226.
XX. Busto di Pompeo, pag. 400.
XXI. Busto di Bruto, Id.
XXII. La Battaglia d’Isso, musaico, pag. 410.

Volume terzo.

XXIII. Il quartiere de’ soldati, nel frontispizio.

XXIV. La Casa del Poeta tragico, p. 85.
XXV. Il Lupanare, pag. 227.
XXVI. Via delle Tombe, pag. 345.
XXVII. Pianta del Vesuvio, pag. 391.
 INDICE

CAPITOLO XIX. — Quartiere de’ soldati, e Pag. 5

Ludo gladiatorio? — Pagus Augustus
Felix — Ordinamenti militari di Roma —
Inclinazioni agricole — Qualità militari —
Valore personale — Formazione della
milizia — La leva — Refrattarj — Cause
d’esenzione — Leva tumultuaria —
Cavalleria — Giuramento — Gli evocati e i
conquisitori — Fanteria: Veliti, Astati,
Principi, Triarii — Centurie, manipoli, coorti,
legioni — Denominazione delle legioni —
Ordini della cavalleria: torme, decurie. —
Duci: propri e comuni — Centurioni —
Uragi, Succenturiones, Accensi,
Tergoductores, Decani — Signiferi —
Primopilo — Tribuni — Decurioni nella
cavalleria — Prefetti dei Confederati —
Legati — Imperatore — Armi — Raccolta
d’armi antiche nel Museo Nazionale di
Napoli — Catalogo del comm. Fiorelli —
Cenno storico — Armi trovate negli scavi
d’Ercolano e Pompei — Armi dei Veliti,
degli Astati, dei Principi, dei Triarii, della
cavalleria — Maestri delle armi — Esercizj:
passo, palaria, lotta, nuoto, salto, marce —
Fardelli e loro peso — Bucellatum —
Cavalleria numidica — Accampamenti —
 Castra stativa — Forma del campo —
Principia — Banderuole — Insegne —
Aquilifer — Insegna del Manipolo —
Bandiera delle Centurie — Vessillo della
Cavalleria — Guardie del campo —
Excubiæ e Vigiliæ — Tessera di consegna
— Sentinelle — Procubitores — Istrumenti
militari: buccina, tuba, lituus, cornu,
timpanum — Tibicen, liticen, timpanotriba
— Stipendj militari — I Feciali, gli Auguri, gli
Aruspici e i pullarii — Sacrifici e preghiere
— Dello schierarsi in battaglia — Sistema
di fortificazioni — Macchine guerresche:
Poliorcetiæ: terrapieno, torre mobile,
testuggine, ariete, balista, tollenone,
altalena, elepoli, terebra, galleria, vigna —
Arringhe — La vittoria, Inni e sacrificj —
Premj: asta pura, monili, braccialetti, catene
— Corone: civica, morale, castrense o
vallare, navale o rostrale, ossidionale,
trionfale, ovale — Altre distinzioni —
Spoglia opima — Preda bellica — Il trionfo
— Veste palmata — Trionfo della veste
palmata — In Campidoglio — Banchetto
pubblico — Trionfo navale — Ovazione —
Onori del trionfatore — Pene militari:
decimazione, vigesimazione, e
centesimazione, fustinarium, taglio della
mano, crocifissione, fustigazione leggiera,
multa, censio hastaria — Pene minori —
Congedo

CAPITOLO XX. — Le Case. Differenza tra le 57

case pompejane e romane — Regioni ed
Isole — Cosa fosse il vestibulum e perchè
mancasse alle case pompejane — Piani —
Solarium — Finestre — Distribuzione delle
parti della casa — Casa di Pansa —
Facciata — La bottega del dispensator —
Postes, aulæ, antepagamenta — Janua —
Il portinajo — Prothyrum — Cavædium —
Compluvium ed impluvium — Puteal — Ara
dei Lari — I Penati — Cellæ, o contubernia
— Tablinum, cubicula, fauces, perystilium,
procœton, exedra, œcus, triclinium —
Officia antelucana — Trichila — Lusso de’
triclinii — Cucina — Utensili di cucina —
Inservienti di cucina — Camino: v’erano
camini allora? — Latrina — Lo xisto — Il
crittoportico — Lo sphæristerium, la
pinacoteca — Il balineum — L’Alæatorium
— La cella vinaria — Piani superiori e
recentissima scoperta — Cœnacula — La
Casa a tre piani — I balconi e la Casa del
Balcone pensile — Case principali in
Pompei — Casa di villeggiatura di M. Arrio
Diomede — La famiglia — Principio
costitutivo di essa — La nascita del figlio —
Cerimonie — La nascita della figlia —
Potestas, manus, mancipium — Minima,
media, maxima diminutio capitis —
Matrimonii: per confarreazione, uso,
coempzione — Trinoctium usurpatio —
Diritti della potestas, della manus, del
mancipium — Agnati, consanguinei —
Cognatio — Matrimonium, connubium —
Sponsali — Età del matrimonio — Il
matrimonio e la sua importanza — Bigamia
— Impedimenti — Concubinato — Divorzio
— Separazione — Diffarreatio —
Repudium — La dote — Donatio propter
nuptias — Nozioni sulla patria podestà —
Jus trium liberorum — Adozione — Tutela
— Curatela — Gli schiavi — Cerimonia
religiosa nel loro ingresso in famiglia —
Contubernium — Miglioramento della
condizione servile — Come si divenisse
schiavo — Mercato di schiavi — Diverse
classi di schiavi — Trattamento di essi —
Numero — Come si cessasse di essere
schiavi — I clienti — Pasti e banchetti
romani — Invocazioni al focolare —
Ghiottornie — Leggi alla gola — Lucullo e
le sue cene — Cene degli imperatori —
Jentaculum, prandium, merenda, cœna,
commissatio — Conviti publici — Cene
sacerdotali — Cene de’ magistrati — Cene
de’ trionfanti — Cene degli imperatori —
Banchetti di cerimonia — Triumviri
æpulones — Dapes — Triclinio — Le
mense — Suppellettili — Fercula —
Pioggie odorose — Abito e toletta da tavola
— Tovaglie e tovaglioli — Il re del
banchetto — Tricliniarca — Coena recta —
Primo servito — Secunda mensa —
Pasticcerie e confetture — Le posate —
Arte culinaria — Apicio — Manicaretto di
perle — Vini — Novellio Torquato milanese
— Servi della tavola: Coquus,
lectisterniator, nomenclator, prægustator,
structor, scissor, carptor, pincerna,
pocillator — Musica alle mense — Ballerine
— Gladiatori — Gli avanzi della cena — Le
lanterne di Cartagine — La partenza de’
convitati — La toletta d’una pompejana —
Le cubiculares, le cosmetæ, le calamistræ,
ciniflones, cinerarii, la psecae — I denti —
 La capigliatura — Lo specchio — Punizioni
della toaletta — Le ugne — I profumi —
Mundus muliebris — I salutigeruli — Le
Veneræ — Sandaligerulæ, vestisplicæ,
ornatrices — Abiti e abbigliamenti —
Vestiario degli uomini — Abito de’ fanciulli
— La bulla — Vestito degli schiavi — I
lavori del gineceo

CAPITOLO XXI. — I Lupanari. — Gli ozj di 165

Capua — La prostituzione — Riassunto
storico della prostituzione antica —
Prostituzione ospitale, sacra e legale — La
Bibbia ed Erodoto — Gli Angeli e le figlie
degli uomini — Le figlie di Loth — Sodoma
e Gomorra — Thamar — Legge di Mosè —
Zambri, Asa, Sansone, Abramo, Giacobbe,
Gedeone — Raab — Il Levita di Efraim —
David, Betsabea, la moglie di Nabal e la
Sunamite — Salomone e le sue concubine
— Prostituzione in Israele — Osea profeta
— I Babilonesi e la dea Militta — Venere e
Adone — Astarte — Le orgie di Mitra —
Prostituzione sacra in Egitto — Ramsete e
Ceope — Cortigiane più antiche —
Rodope, Cleina, Stratonice, Irene,
Agatoclea — Prostituzione greca —
Dicterion — Ditteriadi, auletridi, eterìe —
Eterìe celebri — Aspasia — Saffo e l’amor
lesbio — La prostituzione in Italia — La
lupa di Romolo e Remo — Le feste
lupercali — Baccanali e Baccanti — La
cortigiana Flora e i giuochi florali — Culto di
Venere in Roma — Feste a Venere Mirtea
— Il Pervigilium Veneris — Traduzione —
Altre cerimonie nelle feste di Venere — I
misteri di Iside — Feste Priapee — Canzoni
priapee — Emblemi itifallici — Abbondanti
in Ercolano e Pompei — Raccolta
Pornografica nel Museo di Napoli — Sue
vicende — Oggetti pornografici d’Ercolano
e Pompei — I misteri della Dea Bona —
Degenerazione de’ misteri della Dea Bona
— Culto di Cupido, Mutino, Pertunda,
Perfica, Prema, Volupia, Lubenzia, Tolano e
Ticone — Prostituzione legale — Meretrici
forestiere — Cortigiane patrizie — Licentia
stupri — Prostitute imperiali — Adulterii —
Bastardi — Infanticidi — Supposizioni ed
esposizioni d’infanti — Legge Giulia: de
adulteriis — Le Famosæ — La Lesbia di
Catullo — La Cinzia di Properzio — La
Delia di Tibullo — La Corinna di Ovidio —
Ovidio, Giulia e Postumo Agrippa — La
Licori di Cornelio Gallo — Incostanza delle
famosæ — Le sciupate di Orazio — La
Marcella di Marziale e la moglie — Petronio
Arbitro e il Satyricon — Turno — La
Prostituzione delle Muse — Giovenale — Il
linguaggio per gesti — Comessationes —
Meretrices e prostibulæ — Prosedæ,
alicariæ, blitidæ, bustuariæ, casoritæ,
copæ, diobolæ, quadrantariæ, foraneæ,
vagæ, summenianæ — Le delicatæ —
Singrafo di fedeltà — Le pretiosæ —
Ballerine e Ludie — Crescente cinedo e
Tyria Percisa in Pompei — Pueri meritorii,
spadones, pædicones — Cinedi — Lenoni
— Numero de’ lupanari in Roma —
Lupanare romano — Meretricium nomen —
Filtri amatorii — Stabula, casaurium,
 lustrum, ganeum — Lupanari pompejani —
Il Lupanare Nuovo — I Cuculi — Postriboli
minori

CAPITOLO XXII. La Via delle tombe. — 285

Estremi officii ai morenti — La Morte —
Conclamatio — Credenze intorno all’anima
ed alla morte — Gli Elisii e il Tartaro —
Culto dei morti e sua antichità — Gli Dei
Mani — Denunzia di decesso — Tempio
della Dea Libitina — Il libitinario —
Pollinctores — La toaletta del morto — Il
triente in bocca — Il cipresso funerale e
suo significato — Le imagini degli Dei
velate — Esposizione del cadavere — Il
certificato di buona condotta —
Convocazione al funerale — Exequiæ,
Funus, publicum, indictivum, tacitum,
gentilitium — Il mortoro: i siticini, i tubicini,
le prefiche, la nenia; Piatrices, Sagæ,
Expiatrices, Simpulatrices, i Popi e i
Vittimari, le insegne onorifiche, le imagini
de’ maggiori, i mimi e l’archimimo, sicinnia,
amici e parenti, la lettiga funebre — I clienti,
gli schiavi e i familiari — La rheda —
L’orazione funebre — Origine di essa — Il
rogo — Il Bustum — L’ultimo bacio e
l’ultimo vale — Il fuoco alla pira — Munera
— L’invocazione ai venti — Legati di
banchetti annuali e di beneficenza —
Decursio — Le libazioni — I bustuari —
Ludi gladiatorii — La ustrina — Il sepolcro
comune — L’epicedion — Ossilegium —
L’urna — Suffitio — Il congedo —
Monimentum — Vasi lacrimatorj — Fori
nelle tombe — Cremazione — I bambini e i
colpiti dal fulmine — Subgrundarium —
Silicernium — Visceratio — Novemdialia —
Denicales feriæ — Funerali de’ poveri —
Sandapila — Puticuli — Purificazione della
casa — Lutto, publico e privato —
Giuramento — Commemorazioni funebri,
Feste Parentali, Feralia, Lemuralia, Inferiæ
— I sepolcri — Sepulcrum familiare —
Sepulcrum comune — Sepolcro ereditario
— Cenotafii — Columellæ o cippi, mensæ,
labra, arcæ — Campo Sesterzio in Roma
— La formula Tacito nomine — Prescrizioni
pe’ sepolcri — Are pei sagrifizj — Leggi
mortuarie e intorno alle tombe — Punizioni
de’ profanatori di esse — Via delle tombe in
Pompei — Tombe di M. Cerrinio e di A.
Vejo — Emiciclo di Mammia — Cippi di M.
Porcio, Venerio Epafrodito, Istacidia,
Istacidio Campano, Melisseo Apro e
Istacidio Menoico — Giardino delle colonne
in musaico — Tombe delle Ghirlande —
Albergo e scuderia — Sepolcro dalle porte
di marmo — Sepolcreto della famiglia
Istacidia — Misura del piede romano — La
tomba di Nevoleja Tiche e di Munazio
Fausto — Urna di Munazio Atimeto —
Mausoleo dei due Libella — Il decurionato
in Pompei — Cenotafio di Cejo e Labeone
— Cinque scheletri — Columelle — A Iceio
Comune — A Salvio fanciullo — A Velasio
Grato — Camera sepolcrale di Cn. Vibrio
Saturnino — Sepolcreto della famiglia Arria
— Sepolture fuori la porta Nolana —
Deduzioni
CONCLUSIONE 371

Appendice Prima. I busti di Bruto e di

Pompeo 383
Appendice Seconda. L’Eruzione del Vesuvio
del 1872 391
Sonetto a P. A. Curti di P. Cominazzi 419
Indice delle Incisioni sparse nell’opera 421
Indice Generale 422
 INDICE GENERALE DELL’OPERA

VOLUME PRIMO

Dedica Pag. V
Intendimenti dell’Opera VII
Introduzione 1

CAPITOLO I. — Il Vesuvio. — La carrozzella

napoletana — La scommessa d’un inglese
— Il valore d’uno schiaffo — Pompei! —
Prime impressioni — Il Vesuvio — Temerità
giustificata — Topografia del Vesuvio — La
storia delle sue principali eruzioni — Ercole
nella Campania — Vi fonda Ercolano — Se
questa città venisse distrutta
contemporaneamente a Pompei — I popoli
dell’Italia Centrale al Vesuvio —
Combattimento di Spartaco — L’eruzione
del 79 — Le posteriori — L’eruzione del
1631 e quella del 1632 — L’eruzione del
1861, e un’iscrizione di V. Fornari —
L’eruzione del 1868 — Il Vesuvio ministro
di morte e rovina, di vita e ricchezza —
Mineralogia — Minuterie — Ascensioni sul
Vesuvio — Temerità punita —
Pompejorama 13

CAPITOLO II. — Storia. Primo periodo. — 41

Divisione della storia — Origini di Pompei
— Ercole e i buoi di Gerione — Oschi e
 Pelasgi — I Sanniti — Occupano la
Campania — Dedizione di questa a Roma
— I Feciali Romani indicon guerra a’
Sanniti — Vittoria dell’armi romane — Lega
de’ Campani coi Latini contro i Romani —
L. Annio Setino e T. Manlio Torquato —
Disciplina militare — Battaglia al Vesuvio
— Le Forche Caudine — Rivincita de’
Romani — Cospirazioni campane contro
Roma — I Pompejani battono i soldati della
flotta romana — Ultima guerra de’ Sanniti
contro i Romani

CAPITOLO III. — Storia. Periodo secondo.

— La legione Campana a Reggio — È
vinta e giustiziata a Roma — Guerra
sociale — Beneficj di essa — Lucio Silla
assedia Stabia e la smantella — Battaglia
di Silla e Cluenzio sotto Pompei — Minazio
Magio — Cluenzio è sconfitto a Nola —
Silla e Mario — Vendette Sillane — Pompei
eretto in municipio — Silla manda una
colonia a Pompei — Che e quante fossero
le colonie romane — Pompei si noma
Colonia Veneria Cornelia — Resistenza di
Pompei ai Coloni — Seconda guerra
servile — Morte di Spartaco — Congiura di
Catilina — P. Silla patrono di Pompei
accusato a Roma — Difeso da Cicerone e
assolto — Ninnio Mulo — I patroni di
Pompei — Augusto vi aggiunge il Pagus
Augustus Felix — Druso muore in Pompei
— Contesa di Pompejani e Nocerini —
Nerone e Agrippina — Tremuoto del 63
che distrugge parte di Pompei 61
CAPITOLO IV. — Storia. Periodo Secondo.
— Leggi, Monete, Offici e Costume — Il
Municipio — Ordini cittadini — Decurioni,
Duumviri, Quinquennale, Edili, Questore —
Il flamine Valente — Sollecitazioni elettorali
— I cavalieri — Gli Augustali — Condizioni
fatte alle Colonie — Il Bisellium — Dogane
in Pompei — Pesi e Misure — Monete —
La Hausse e la Baisse — Posta —
Invenzione della Posta — I portalettere
romani — Lingua parlata in Pompei —
Lingua scritta — Papiri — Modo di scrivere
— Codicilli e Pugillares — Lusso in Pompei
— Il leone di Marco Aurelio — Schiavi —
Schiavi agricoltori — Vini pompejani —
Camangiari rinvenuti negli scavi — Il garo
o caviale liquido pompejano — Malati
mandati a Pompei 91

CAPITOLO V. — Storia. Periodo secondo.

— Il Cataclisma — T. Svedio Clemente
compone le differenze tra Pompejani e
Coloni — Pompei si rinnova — Affissi
pubblici — La flotta romana e Plinio il
Vecchio ammiraglio — Sua vita — La
Storia Naturale e altre sue opere — Il
novissimo giorno — Morte di Plinio il
Vecchio — Prima lettera di Plinio il Giovane
a Tacito — Diversa pretesa morte di Plinio
il Vecchio — Seconda lettera di Plinio il
Giovane a Tacito — Provvedimenti inutili di
Tito Vespasiano Pag. 127

CAPITOLO VI. — Gli Scavi e la Topografia. 161

 — I Guardiani — Un inconveniente a
riparare — Ladri antichi — Vi fu una
seconda Pompei? — Scoperta della città
— Rinvenimento d’Ercolano — Preziosità
ercolanesi — Possibilità d’un’intera
rivendicazione alla luce di Ercolano —
Scavi regolari in Pompei — Disordini e
provvedimenti — Scuola d’antichità in
Pompei — C. A. Vecchi — Topografia di
Pompei — Le Saline e le Cave di pomici —
Il Sarno

CAPITOLO VII. — Le Mura — Le Porte —

Le Vie. — Le Mura, loro misura e
costruzione — Fortificazioni — Torri —
Terrapieno e Casematte — Le porte — Le
Regioni e le Isole — Le Vie — I
Marciapiedi — Il lastrico e la manutenzione
delle vie — La via Consolare e le vie
principali — Vie minori — Fontane
pubbliche — Tabernacoli sulle vie —
Amuleti contro la jettatura — Iscrizioni
scritte o graffite sulle muraglie —
Provvedimenti edili contro le immondezze
— Botteghe — Archi — Carrozze — Cura
delle vie 181

CAPITOLO VIII. — I Templi. — Fede e 219

superstizione — Architettura generale de’
templi — Collocazione degli altari — Are
ed altari — Della scelta dei luoghi —
Tempio di Venere — Le due Veneri —
Culto a Venere Fisica — Processione —
Descrizione del tempio di Venere in
Pompei — Oggetti d’arte e iscrizioni in
 esso — Jus luminum obstruendorum —
Tempio di Giove — I sacri principj —
Tempio d’Iside — Culto d’Iside — Bandito
da Roma, rimesso dopo in maggior onore
— Tibullo e Properzio — Notti isiache —
Origini — Leggenda egizia — Chiave della
leggenda — Gerarchia Sacerdotale — Riti
— Descrizione del tempio d’Iside in
Pompei — Oggetti rinvenuti — Curia Isiaca
— Voltaire e gli Zingari — Tempio
d’Esculapio — Controversie — Cenni
mitologici — Il Calendario Ovidiano concilia
le differenze — Descrizione — Tempio di
Mercurio — Controversie — Opinioni sulla
sua destinazione — Ragioni perchè abbiasi
a ritenere di Mercurio — Descrizione del
tempio — Tempio della Fortuna —
Venerata questa dea in Roma e in Grecia
— Descrizione del suo tempio — Antistites,
Sacerdotes, Ministri — Tempio d’Augusto
— Sodales Augustales — Descrizione e
Pittura, Monete — Tempio di Ercole o di
Nettuno — Detto anche tempio greco —
Descrizione — Bidental e Puteal — Tempio
di Cerere — Presunzioni di sua esistenza
— Favole — I Misteri della Dea Bona e P.
Clodio — Il Calcidico era il tempio di
Cerere? — Priapo — Lari e Penati —
Cristianesimo — Ebrei e Cristiani

CAPITOLO IX. — I Fori. — Cosa fossero i 305

Fori — Agora Greco — Fori di Roma —
Civili e venali — Foro Romano — Comizj
— Centuriati e tributi — Procedimento in
essi per le elezioni de’ magistrati, per le