TY - JOUR
AU - Talbot,, Michael
AB - Abstract Matthew Novell has hitherto been one of the more obscure of the English musicians who wrote trio sonatas based largely on Corellian models in the years around 1700. His set of twelve sonatas, self-published in London in 1704 and reprinted in Amsterdam by Estienne Roger in 1705, is unusual for conforming to the ‘da camera’ rather than the ‘da chiesa’ type. Although their musical quality is modest, the sonatas contain several interesting features, including the use of the still-rare key of B major. Their debt to Corelli emerges clearly in the paired grouping by key of the sonatas, their movement types and titles, and in the appearance of several stylistic hallmarks such as the ‘Corelli clash’ and walking bass. New biographical investigation reveals Novell to have been an amateur player of the bass viol, who was probably born around 1678 into a geographically mobile family that in previous generations had included a prominent churchman and a leading physician. He was apprenticed in 1692 to a vintner, and appears to have plied the same trade until his death in 1728 in Oporto, where he had lived for many years. His intense but seemingly short-lived engagement with musical performance and composition typifies the world of English amateur musicians of his period and milieu. THE PRESENT STATE OF KNOWLEDGE Between the listing, in 1776, of ‘12 Sonatas by Mr. Novel, finely engraved and on good paper’ in Sir John Hawkins’s transcription of the contents of Thomas Britton’s music library,1 and three perfunctory lines in William S. Newman’s 1959 survey of the Baroque sonata,2 writings on music ignored Matthew Novell completely, except for occasional appearances of the sonatas in booksellers’ or auctioneers’ catalogues. He has never had an entry in any of the standard encyclopedias of music, including New Grove and MGG. In recent years, however, two scholars in particular have shown interest. Lowell Lindgren dated the first edition of the sonatas to 1704 and drew some preliminary conclusions about their composer.3 Peter Holman, in the newly acquired knowledge that Novell was a player of the viola da gamba, as revealed by the commonplace book of the immigrant musician Johann Sigismond Cousser, made some further biographical inferences as well as offering a brief comment on the music, which he found ‘competent but unenterprising in everything but the choice of keys’.4 One must also mention Min-Jung Kang’s doctoral dissertation on the English trio sonata between 1660 and 1714, which says nothing new about Novell’s sonatas themselves but usefully describes the manuscript parts for five of the sonatas, which were acquired by the British Library comparatively recently as part of the Tyson bequest.5 So Novell and his music are both virtually virgin territory. Although there is little prospect that any of the sonatas will ever be thought worthy of modern publication, and we know of only one other composition by him—a very short song6—the sonatas contain several points of interest deserving further investigation and comment, such as the tonal organization of the collection, the cadential structures, the presence of a sonata in B major, the shaping of the binary movements, and the instruction for a repeat in toto of one concluding giga. Assessing these features can tell us something about the reception in England of Corelli’s sonatas, and of the first generation of sonatas by Italians written in imitation of them, including Tomaso Albinoni’s highly popular Balletti a tre, Op. 3 (1701). Novell’s sonatas of 1704 are particularly interesting for being the earliest known set of published trio sonatas in Corellian style by an English composer that follow the ‘da camera’ rather than the ‘da chiesa’ model: they precede by four years the posthumous publication of the next such set, the Op. 2 sonatas of John Ravenscroft, which, in any case, are not exactly comparable, since they were written in Rome. As Holman notes, Ravenscroft’s earlier set, published in Rome as his Op. 1 in 1695, focused on the ‘church’ variety of sonata,7 as did all those by other English composers of Corelli-influenced trio sonatas active around the same time as Novell—principally James Sherard, William Topham, William Williams, and William Corbett. There is some purpose, too, in rescuing Novell’s life as far as possible from its ‘mysteriousness’, not merely in order to tie up a specific loose end, but also to explain the surprising brevity of his known musical activity and to find out how this related to his social position. THE CERTAIN FACTS AND SOME INITIAL HYPOTHESES So far as I have been able to ascertain, Matthew Novell’s name appeared only once in the London press during the whole of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries—in the Post Man for 6–9 May 1704, which carried the following advertisement:8 There is newly publish’d, Mr Novell’s 12 Sonata’s, consisting of Preludes, Allemands, Sarabands, Jiggs, Airs and Gavots, with many other Musical Intervals. Compos’d for 2. Violins and Bass with a through Bass for the Theorbo-Lute, Spinnet or Harpsicord, the whole fairly Engraven on above 70 large Copper Plates. Printed for the Author, and are to be sold by him at his Lodgings at Mr Crouch’s at the 3 Lutes in Princes street, Covent Garden, and at most Musick Shops in Town. ‘Airs’ is used here as the contemporary catch-all term for movements in binary form not identifiable with any specific dance type (the label might, for example, be appropriate for a movement headed ‘Tempo di Sarabanda’), while ‘musical intervals’ may refer to inserted movements, mainly in slow tempo, of a more abstract nature. The composer’s landlord was evidently John Crouch, a former member of the band of Twenty-Four Violins at the royal courts of Charles II and James II, who operated as a luthier, publisher, and music seller from his premises in Princes Street, Soho.9 The choice of the word ‘lodgings’ here suggests accommodation as part of the Crouch household, although not necessarily any participation in John’s business as an employee or partner. The newspaper advertisement is in fact an abbreviation of Novell’s own title page, which reads as follows: Sonate da Camera | OR | Chamber Musick | BEING A Sett of Twelve SONATA’S | CONSISTING OF | Preludes Allemands Sarabands Jiggs Ayres & Gavotts | with many other Musical Intervals | COMPOSED FOR | Two Violins AND Bass | with a Thorough-bass for the | Theorbo-lute Spinett or Harpsicord | BY | Matthew Novell | [horizontal rule] | London Printed for the Author and are to be sold by him | at Mr Crouches at the three Lutes in Princes-street Covent-Garden. | Excud: et Sculp: Tho: Cross Jun:r. The term ‘Sonate da camera’ was a relatively new one at the time, denoting multi-movement compositions conceived for recreational or concert performance.10 It is clearly used here in imitation of the collective title that was the first to use this precise sense of the phrase: Corelli’s Op. 2 of 1685. Novell’s free English translation, ‘Chamber Musick’, conforms only obliquely to the modern meaning of that expression: it emphasizes, rather, that these are pieces to be played and heard in homes rather than in theatres or churches. The sonatas were produced in three partbooks, respectively entitled ‘Violino Primo’, ‘Violino Secondo’, and ‘Violone o Cimbalo’. The last-named part, as its double-barrelled name suggests, does double duty, and was designed to be sold either singly or in duplicate.11 It is figured moderately densely. Following the usage of Novell’s Roman models, ‘violone’ denotes the bass violin or cello (in an English context, naturally also the bass viol),12 and ‘cembalo’ the harpsichord. The fact that the title page adds the alternatives of spinet and theorbo-lute, while omitting the violone, might suggest a confusion of intentions, but I believe the explanation is simpler: ‘violone o cembalo’ is a totemic formula (employed, in fact, by a multitude of composers) proclaiming a Corellian line of musical descent, while ‘spinet’ and ‘theorbo-lute’ identify instruments likely to be used in practice within an English milieu. That Novell organized and financed the publication of his sonatas himself (while presumably expecting a defrayal of costs from the chosen dedicatee) is typical for a debutant composer of his time. He may well have hoped that, following a common pattern of the time, once sales of the first edition had dried up he would be able to sell on the plates to a commercial publisher such as John Walsh, who would then reissue the collection under his own imprint.13 Novell’s dedicatory letter, contained only in the Violino Primo partbook, provides perhaps the most important evidence of his background and aspirations in publishing the collection. It reads as follows: To the most Noble and Illustrious HENRY DUKE OF BEAUFORT Earle and Marquess of Worcester, &c: May it please your Grace. Musick, like other Arts and Sciences is Exceedingly improv’d and especially in this our Nation, as it is now adorned with so many Excellent Masters: which consider’d I must of necessity own my Presumption, in laying these my Endeavours at your Graces Feet; and aspiring to shelter them under so noble a Patronage, and Protection. But having lately had the Honour to be made one of your Graces Servants, I thought myself under an indispensible obligation, and that I coud [sic] not make this offering to any other without derogating from the dignity of your Graces most Eminent Worth and Quality. Hence then your Grace may be assur’d that it is not the least good Opinion of my own Works, nor Presumption in my own Merits that have prevail[’]d upon me; but a Stedfast Reliance on your Graces ever accustom’d Goodness and inbred Generosity; on which is founded my Hopes of a favourable Acceptance. If I have been so happy in these Compositions as to have done any thing that may contribute to your Graces diversion: I shall think the time of my Forreign Travels successfully spent, and all my past labour and Pains amply rewarded, it being my highest Aime, and Chiefest Ambition to continue as I am, Your Graces Most humble, truly devoted, and most Obedient Servant.            Matthew Novell This dedication has been mulled over by several of the writers mentioned earlier,14 but merits further examination. First, the impression is given of a reasonably well-educated man, although we can be virtually certain that he was not university educated, since the comprehensive alumni lists of the only two English universities at that time, Oxford and Cambridge, do not contain his name.15 Novell reveals a perfect familiarity with the rhetorical conventions of such dedications (which differ little between European nations), extolling the dedicatee’s merits, benevolence, and capacity to offer protection, and deprecating his own talent, while insisting on his eagerness to offer service to his benefactor. His dedicatee, Henry Somerset (1684–1714), succeeded his grandfather as 2nd Duke of Beaufort in 1700. According to Lindgren, the 16-year-old boy undertook a Grand Tour between 1700 and 1702, during which his declared servant Novell was ‘conjecturally a member of Beaufort’s entourage’.16 However, while Beaufort was exactly of the right age for such an educational exercise, hard evidence that it took place is lacking. The press does not mention his departure or return, which would be usual for a person of his rank, and John Ingamells does not include him in his dictionary of British and Irish ‘grand tourists’ in Italy between 1701 and 1800.17 Moreover, it would be strange for an adolescent who had only just acquired responsibility for a mansion in Chelsea, for Beaufort House, and for a country seat at Badminton House, Gloucestershire, to go abroad immediately instead of first familiarizing himself with his new possessions. In any case, Novell would surely not have had the discourtesy to remain silent about the fact that he had toured the Continent in Beaufort’s entourage if such had been the case. Lindgren is certainly correct, however, to see significance in the fact that one of Beaufort’s tutors was the eminent botanist William Sherard, brother to the apothecary and composer James Sherard. In 1698–9 William had accompanied Wriothesley Russell, Marquess of Tavistock and shortly to become 2nd Duke of Bedford, on a Grand Tour that included Italy; it was the same Marquess who in 1700 brought the cellist Nicola Francesco Haym and the violinist Nicola Cosimi over to England, inaugurating a trend whereby Grand Tourists from Britain acted not only as students and visitors but also as talent scouts and recruiting agents.18 Cosimi and Haym are known to have visited Beaufort at Badminton House together with their new employer in 1701, so Novell’s access to Beaufort is likely to have brought him into contact with the Sherards and possibly also with the two Roman musicians. But what was the nature of the service with Beaufort into which Novell had entered shortly before he dedicated the sonatas? Since we have not established that he was a professional musician, we cannot assume automatically that his employment was of a musical nature (notably, the dedication does not relate the composition of the sonatas directly to Novell’s undefined servant status). Indeed, the dedication gives away very little: his service may or may not have been residential, and it could have occurred either in London or in Badminton, or indeed in both places. This is a challenging question, therefore, to which we will return later. Equally vague is the nature of Novell’s ‘Forreign Travels’. By implication, they are linked to the ‘labour and Pains’, which admittedly make no sense unless understood in relation to music. But his invocation of travel abroad, hinting at (but not claiming expressly) a visit to Italy, could well refer to an occurrence that in reality amounted to very little, at least with regard to music. This, too, needs reassessment. In 1705 the Amsterdam publisher Estienne Roger brought out a new edition of the Novell sonatas.19 During this early period of his activity as a music publisher Roger was busily building up his catalogue of Italian and Italianate instrumental music, largely by pirating works that had recently come out not only in Italy but also in Germany and England, often with amazing speed. At first sight, the Novell sonatas appear to fit into this category perfectly: their musical text is virtually identical in substance to Cross’s engraving, although there is some conversion to house style in notational details, and the bass part is restyled ‘Organo o violoncello’ in keeping with Roger’s habitual practice. A surprise comes, however, in the wording of the title page, which reads: XII SONATE | à tre | Due Violini e Basso Continuo | DEL SIGNORE | NOVELLI | Opera Prima | A AMSTERDAM | Chez ESTIENNE ROGER Marchand Libraire. What is unexpected is neither the bland description of the sonatas—from which the ‘da camera’ specification and the characterization of individual movement types have been entirely removed—nor the addition of ‘Opera Prima’ where no opus number had previously existed—Roger liked to provide opus numbers in order to facilitate ordering from his catalogue; neither does it derive from the Italianization of the surname ‘Novell’ to ‘Novelli’, since this was a type of linguistic conversion that Roger himself, and some composers publishing with him, regularly practised. Rather the surprise lies in the suppression of Novell’s forename (which would have become ‘Matteo’ in Italian) and the substitution for it of ‘Signore’. It was certainly not Roger’s habit deliberately to omit a forename where one was present in the pirated text, and I know of no parallel case. The thought occurs that the printer’s copy employed by Roger’s engraver might have named the composer as ‘Mr. Novell’, as did the advertisement in the Post Man, but this would imply a manuscript exemplar, which would have been much more difficult for Roger to obtain than a set of the published parts. There is an alternative explanation, however: if Novell was an amateur, he might have preferred, on this second outing of the sonatas, to conceal his identity before the broad public, as amateurs frequently did—for example, by reducing their name to initial letters. But this would presuppose some contact and agreement with Roger; such a scenario is not unthinkable—especially if the composer often travelled abroad—but it would certainly have been unusual for a second edition in this period. The final piece of evidence to be considered here is the entry apparently relating to Matthew Novell in Cousser’s commonplace book and cited by Holman, which reads simply ‘Novelle. Viol-di-gambist’.20 Cousser remained in London from Christmas Day 1704 until 1707, a fact that provides a well-defined timeframe for the entry. The identity of the musical instrument played by Novell is potentially significant, since up to the end of the seventeenth century the bass viol was in England the acknowledged instrument of choice for gentlemen, although around 1700, or a little earlier, it began to be replaced in this salient role by the violin and the common flute (recorder). Before moving on to the new biographical details we can uncover about Matthew Novell, let us now review what we so far know, or suspect, about him: If, as seems most likely, the sonatas are works of Novell’s early maturity (his twenties or early thirties), he will have been born during the 1670s or thereabouts. He was most probably an amateur musician. This inference is drawn from the instrument he played, the absence of press notices mentioning his performance in public, the abrupt cessation of the publication of his music after 1704–5 (which could be explained by his early death, but is more likely to be the result of a reorientation of his life),21 and the partial disguising of his name in Roger’s reprint. He originated from one of the richer families within the middle level of society, possessing some education but not attending any university, at least in England. He was certainly living in London in 1704. MATTHEW NOVELL AND HIS FAMILY When trying to establish the identity of a named person, points such as those just enumerated can, in favourable circumstances, act as powerful filters that narrow down the choice to one or two persons. Unfortunately the name Novell is unhelpful in this respect, since it was relatively common by the seventeenth century and, being a personal description (equivalent to ‘Newman’), arose independently at different times and in different places. Consequently, many different lineages of the surname Novell and its variants can be found quite widely distributed over England. From the sixteenth to the eighteenth centuries, however, there is a concentration of the surname in Surrey, its epicentre being the market town of Farnham. Moreover, up to the mid-seventeenth century, the choice of Matthew as a forename was highly unusual for the Novell lineage throughout England. In general, English families from this time tended to recycle the same small set of forenames generation after generation, often following strict patterns for eldest sons, who were usually named after their father over several generations. These patterns can provide vital clues, although by themselves they obviously offer no conclusive proof. Both the geographical emphasis and the rarity of Novell’s given name make it possible to identify a single Novell lineage from which the musician almost certainly sprang: the sole doubt concerns from which of two fraternal branches he came—more exactly, which of two cousins he was. No other Novell lineage discernible from genealogical websites or local histories has thrown up a Matthew Novell meeting all the criteria already proposed.22 We begin with a William Novell, who was baptized at the church of Farnham St Andrew on 5 November 1563,23 and married Katherine Marner at the same church on 5 May 1594. Most probably, he was a yeoman farmer, like most of the Farnham Novells. Between 1595 and 1608 William and Katherine had at least six children, the one of interest being the second son, John (baptized on 20 November 1601), here referred to as John (I). William himself appears to have been buried at St Andrew’s on either 11 July 1611 or 27 May 1612: in any case Katherine was certainly widowed by the time John (I) matriculated at Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, at Easter 1621, since it is she who is recorded as the parent. John (I) entered Pembroke Hall as a sizar—what we would today call a ‘scholar’. He had presumably received a grammar-school education, perhaps at the Royal Grammar School in nearby Guildford, but his family clearly lacked the means to support him as a pensioner. He obtained his BA in 1625, was made a Fellow at his college in 1627, and in due course obtained both his MA and the degree of BD (Bachelor of Divinity), the latter on 11 June 1635.24 While waiting for his MA, he took holy orders, being ordained priest on 23 September 1627.25 John belonged to the High Church wing of the theological spectrum and while in Cambridge encountered the like-minded Matthew Wren (1585–1667), who began to further his protégé’s career after becoming bishop of Norwich in 1635. Between 1636 and 1637 John held ecclesiastical posts at Walton-cum-Felixstowe (Suffolk), Mundesley (Norfolk), and Topecroft (Norfolk). In 1639 Wren, now bishop of Ely, made him one of his personal chaplains, and on 28 December of the same year Rector of Little Downham St Leonard on the Isle of Ely (Norfolk). On 7 March 1641 a son of John and his wife Deborah (their date of marriage is unknown) was baptized there. He was named Matthew (I), presumably in thanks to John’s benefactor, since this name had not appeared in the family up until then. Wren’s pro-Laudian beliefs led to his imprisonment at the end of 1641, but before this he was able to render John one last service: on 22 July 1641 John became vicar of Northwold St Andrew (Norfolk), and on 14 September rector. John held his Northwold living until his death on 1 May 1661. He must have considered himself fortunate to live to see the Restoration of Charles II, celebrating the occasion by writing a tract asserting the Divine Right of Kings, which was published in London the following year.26 An elaborate memorial in Latin to John and Deborah conjointly was placed next to the communion table in Northwold St Andrew after Deborah’s death in 1678.27 From this we learn that the couple had eleven children, most of whom died early. One further son after Matthew (I), Thomas, survived into adulthood, but discussion of him must wait until we have considered his elder brother. Matthew (I) Novell followed closely in his father’s footsteps. He was admitted as a pensioner to Pembroke Hall in 1656, matriculated there in 1659 and obtained his BA the following year. He married a woman named Mary, about whom we know only that she died in 1696.28 In 1661 their son John (II) was born in Bury St Edmunds (Suffolk).29 Between 1662 and 1667 Matthew was a Fellow at Jesus College, from which he obtained his MA in 1663, initiating his training for the Anglican priesthood in the same year. Ordained in 1664, he obtained his first clerical post in 1665 as vicar at Madingley (Cambridgeshire), thanks to Matthew Wren, who was once again in office as bishop of Ely. He resigned his Madingley post in 1666 to take up a more substantial living as rector of Barton Bendish St Andrew in Norfolk. He died there on 19 July 1690. John (II), who was probably Matthew (I)’s eldest son, replicated the career path of his father and grandfather. In 1686 he became a pensioner at Jesus College, from which he emerged with an MA in 1696. In 1700 he was made Rector of Hillington Parish Church (Norfolk), where he was buried on 21 March 1728. No other children of Matthew (I) are identified in the genealogical databases, but there is a memorial stone to a second Matthew next to the communion rail in Barton Bendish St Andrew, where it appears alongside similar memorials for Matthew (I) and Mary, and identifies him as their son: its brief Latin text reads ‘Depositum Matthæi Fi[li]i 2 di Matth: & Mar Novel’.30 Since the birth year of Matthew (II) could have been any between 1661 and the end of the 1680s, he lies in theory within the timeframe for serious consideration as our musician of interest. However, it is virtually certain that the son’s separate memorial stone pre-dates Mary’s death in 1696. For Matthew (II) to choose to be buried alongside his parents at least a decade after Mary’s death (and after forging a career elsewhere in the meantime) would seem very unlikely. To find the better candidate, Matthew (III), we need to return to John (I). We know from the Cambridge alumni lists that another of his sons, Thomas, was admitted to Jesus College as a pensioner in 1666, obtained his BA there in 1670, and in 1676 was made a Doctor of Medicine (MD) by royal mandate.31 Thomas practised as a fashionable physician in Little Eastcheap, London. In 1680 he was made a Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians, then in 1681 a Fellow of the Royal Society. From the membership roll of the College, we also learn that he was imprisoned for debt and died in prison in 1686.32 He was married by licence at the end of 1674, and the allegation accompanying the application provides evidence of his age: ‘1674 Nov. 18 Thomas Novell, of Little Eastcheap, Lond[on], Bach[elor], ab[out] 26, & Mary Richards, of the same, Sp[inster], ab[out] 19, with her father’s consent’.33 Thomas must therefore have been born around 1647–8, which fits the year of his admission to Jesus College perfectly. Only one child of Thomas and Mary is so far identifiable from parish registers: Charles, who was baptized on 18 March 1678 at St Andrew Undershaft, and was buried there on 1 May 1679. The couple did, however, have at least two other sons: the elder, named Thomas after his father, was probably born in 1675 since he must already have attained his majority when he took out a joint lease with his mother for landed property in Northwold on 2 October 1696;34 the younger, Matthew (III), was probably born in 1678 or 1679, to judge from the date of his indenture as an apprentice to a London vintner, Robert Fenwick, on 2 November 1692, in which he is described as ‘son of Thomas, London, gentleman’.35 It may have been thought more suitable for Matthew (III) to remain in London with his widowed mother than to attend university, but Mary cannot have been living in poverty, since Fenwick was paid the very large premium of £100.36 Vintners were among the elite of tradesmen, recruiting their apprentices from the gentry rather than from the artisan stratum, so this apprenticeship may have appeared to Mary and Matthew the next best thing to a university place. Mary reportedly died (whether in Northwold or in London is unclear) in 1711.37 If, as seems likely, Matthew (III) completed his apprenticeship and became a master vintner, he could well have been the Matthew Novell who was living in the parish of St Ewen in Bristol in 1706, when, described as a gentleman, he married a local woman, Elizabeth Tayler, at Bristol St Augustine-the-Less on 8 February. Residence in Bristol would, of course, be logical for a wine merchant, given the importance of this port as a point of entry for wines. Even stronger evidence that Matthew continued to practise as a vintner comes from the fact that a few years before his mother’s death he relocated to Oporto in Portugal, where he remained until his death in February 1729.38 Matthew (III) and Elizabeth had a son, John, baptized at St Augustine on 7 August 1707. However, it is highly likely that this John died in infancy and that the John we are about to discuss—John (III)—was a similarly named younger sibling born two or so years later, in view of his claim that he was still a minor at the time when his father died. John (III) in his own words ‘returned to England’ (which implies that he had been born there rather than in Portugal) as soon as he attained his majority in order to claim property in and around Northwold that had, in his view, been unlawfully sequestered by members of a group of neighbours who had withheld from his father the news of his grandmother Mary Novell’s death in 1711 and had silently divided among themselves her various properties and landholdings. In two successive bills of complaint to the Six Clerks Court, dated respectively 23 October 1732 and 23 October 1733, this John—who describes himself as a gentleman living in St Martins in the Fields, London—claims title to numerous buildings and arable lands through succession from his great-grandfather John (I) and great-grandmother Deborah, via his grandfather Thomas and grandmother Mary, and his father Matthew (III). His knowledge of many details was sketchy and he lacked many of the papers establishing title that, he assumed, only Mary possessed at the time of her death (and which he suspected were later secreted away or destroyed by the neighbours), but his claim as a whole appears credible. The outcome of this lawsuit is unclear, and its other details need not be examined here. What is important, however, is that it confirms the line of descent comprising John (I), Thomas, Matthew (III), and John (III). Was this, then, the same Matthew Novell who briefly came to notice as a musician: born in London in 1678 or 1679; apprenticed to a London vintner in 1692; married in Bristol in 1706; and buried in Oporto in 1729? Certainly his work in the wine trade would provide an alternative context both for his service to Beaufort and for his travels abroad. In fact, he could well have pursued the two activities, oenological and musical, in parallel, wherever possible utilizing the one for the benefit of the other. And it is surely notable that disappearance of the musician from the London scene occurred shortly before the appearance of a Matthew Novell in Bristol. We would have watertight proof only if we possessed documentation directly linking the persona of the musician to this biographical profile, but the weight of circumstantial evidence in favour of this identification is very considerable. NOVELL’S SONATAS The basic details of Novell’s twelve sonatas are laid out in Table 1. In his choice of keys Novell follows a practice commonly observed in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries in sets of twelve works composed for strings (which in this respect are much more versatile than wind instruments), whereby no primary key is used more than once. One can therefore expect a full, or almost full, use of the major and minor keys lying within a segment of the circle of fifths running from B flat major and G minor on the ‘flat’ side to A major and F sharp minor on the ‘sharp’ side: because of the pitches of the open strings, the tonal ‘centre of gravity’ for instruments of the violin family lies slightly to the sharp side of C major. Novell imitates Corelli (and many other composers of the time) by choosing to group adjacent works in major–minor pairs related either by having a common tonic (Sonatas I–II, VII–VIII, and XI–XII) or by being relative keys of each other (Sonatas III–IV, V–VI, and IX–X). Table 1 Matthew Novell, Sonate da camera (1704): synopsis of contents For each movement the description is given in the following order: movement title, tempo marking, time signature, key (where this differs from the principal key of the sonata, as listed in column 2). All movements with dance titles are in binary form with two repeated sections, while all preludios and abstract non-dance movements headed by a tempo marking alone are mono-sectional (through-composed) unless otherwise indicated in the final column. In this column the phrase ‘hinged on’ refers to the cadence at the end of the first section of a binary movement, where this is not one of the two standard options: a perfect cadence in the dominant or a half-close in the tonic No. . Key . Movement 1 . Movement 2 . Movement 3 . Movement 4 . Movement 5 . Comments . I G Preludio, Presto, 𝄵 Largo, 3/(4); Adagio, 𝄴, e Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagissimo, 𝄴, e Tempo di Gavotta, 𝄵 Movement 5 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic II g Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Tempo di Sarabanda, 3/(4) Allegro, 3/8 Movement 4 binary III F Preludio, Allegro (–Adagio), 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴, f Giga, 12/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic IV d Preludio, Largo, 3/(4) Allemanda, Largo, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Giga, 6/8 Movement 1 binary V E♭ Preludio, Adagio, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴, A♭ Gavotta, 𝄵 VI c Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Allegro, 3/8 Movements 2 and 4 binary VII E Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 c♯ Giga, 6/8 VIII e Preludio, Adagio, 3/(4) Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 3/(4) Allegro, 3/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic; movement 4 binary IX f♯ Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Fughetta, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Giga, 12/8 Movement 2 binary X A Preludio, Largo– Adagio, C Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Giga, 6/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic XI b Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 XII B Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Largo, 2/4 Adagio, 3/2 g♯ Giga, 6/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic; movement 4 Da Capo No. . Key . Movement 1 . Movement 2 . Movement 3 . Movement 4 . Movement 5 . Comments . I G Preludio, Presto, 𝄵 Largo, 3/(4); Adagio, 𝄴, e Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagissimo, 𝄴, e Tempo di Gavotta, 𝄵 Movement 5 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic II g Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Tempo di Sarabanda, 3/(4) Allegro, 3/8 Movement 4 binary III F Preludio, Allegro (–Adagio), 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴, f Giga, 12/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic IV d Preludio, Largo, 3/(4) Allemanda, Largo, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Giga, 6/8 Movement 1 binary V E♭ Preludio, Adagio, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴, A♭ Gavotta, 𝄵 VI c Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Allegro, 3/8 Movements 2 and 4 binary VII E Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 c♯ Giga, 6/8 VIII e Preludio, Adagio, 3/(4) Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 3/(4) Allegro, 3/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic; movement 4 binary IX f♯ Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Fughetta, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Giga, 12/8 Movement 2 binary X A Preludio, Largo– Adagio, C Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Giga, 6/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic XI b Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 XII B Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Largo, 2/4 Adagio, 3/2 g♯ Giga, 6/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic; movement 4 Da Capo Table 1 Matthew Novell, Sonate da camera (1704): synopsis of contents For each movement the description is given in the following order: movement title, tempo marking, time signature, key (where this differs from the principal key of the sonata, as listed in column 2). All movements with dance titles are in binary form with two repeated sections, while all preludios and abstract non-dance movements headed by a tempo marking alone are mono-sectional (through-composed) unless otherwise indicated in the final column. In this column the phrase ‘hinged on’ refers to the cadence at the end of the first section of a binary movement, where this is not one of the two standard options: a perfect cadence in the dominant or a half-close in the tonic No. . Key . Movement 1 . Movement 2 . Movement 3 . Movement 4 . Movement 5 . Comments . I G Preludio, Presto, 𝄵 Largo, 3/(4); Adagio, 𝄴, e Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagissimo, 𝄴, e Tempo di Gavotta, 𝄵 Movement 5 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic II g Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Tempo di Sarabanda, 3/(4) Allegro, 3/8 Movement 4 binary III F Preludio, Allegro (–Adagio), 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴, f Giga, 12/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic IV d Preludio, Largo, 3/(4) Allemanda, Largo, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Giga, 6/8 Movement 1 binary V E♭ Preludio, Adagio, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴, A♭ Gavotta, 𝄵 VI c Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Allegro, 3/8 Movements 2 and 4 binary VII E Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 c♯ Giga, 6/8 VIII e Preludio, Adagio, 3/(4) Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 3/(4) Allegro, 3/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic; movement 4 binary IX f♯ Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Fughetta, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Giga, 12/8 Movement 2 binary X A Preludio, Largo– Adagio, C Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Giga, 6/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic XI b Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 XII B Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Largo, 2/4 Adagio, 3/2 g♯ Giga, 6/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic; movement 4 Da Capo No. . Key . Movement 1 . Movement 2 . Movement 3 . Movement 4 . Movement 5 . Comments . I G Preludio, Presto, 𝄵 Largo, 3/(4); Adagio, 𝄴, e Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagissimo, 𝄴, e Tempo di Gavotta, 𝄵 Movement 5 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic II g Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Tempo di Sarabanda, 3/(4) Allegro, 3/8 Movement 4 binary III F Preludio, Allegro (–Adagio), 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴, f Giga, 12/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic IV d Preludio, Largo, 3/(4) Allemanda, Largo, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Giga, 6/8 Movement 1 binary V E♭ Preludio, Adagio, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴, A♭ Gavotta, 𝄵 VI c Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Allegro, 3/8 Movements 2 and 4 binary VII E Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 c♯ Giga, 6/8 VIII e Preludio, Adagio, 3/(4) Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 3/(4) Allegro, 3/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic; movement 4 binary IX f♯ Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Fughetta, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Giga, 12/8 Movement 2 binary X A Preludio, Largo– Adagio, C Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Giga, 6/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic XI b Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Allegro, 𝄴 Adagio, 𝄴 Allemanda, Allegro, 𝄴 XII B Preludio, Largo, 𝄴 Largo, 2/4 Adagio, 3/2 g♯ Giga, 6/8 Movement 2 hinged on perfect cadence in tonic; movement 4 Da Capo Although outlying keys (most commonly C minor, F minor, E flat major, and E major) are sometimes encountered in these sorts of works for strings, Novell’s set is unusual in including a sonata in B major—this is Sonata XII, which partners Sonata XI in B minor. Corelli sidesteps a similar problem in his Sonate da camera, Op. 2—which was Novell’s most obvious model—by partnering B minor with B flat major, albeit here not in an adjacent position. B major is, in fact, an extraordinary primary key for a string composition of the time to employ, given the problems of difficult intonation and fingering and unresonant sonority arising from the non-coincidence of open strings with the notes most frequently demanded, and also the controversial status of the key among contemporary theorists, who, even when they conceded its validity, could not agree on its affective character.39 Within Italian music, the earliest reported string composition to use this key is a Capriccio sopra dodici note by the Bolognese composer Maurizio Cazzati, published in his Op. 22 of 1660. As if to augment visually the outlandishness of the chosen tonality, Cazzati notates the piece with a void key signature.40 For the next occurrence of this key in Italian published music we have to wait until 1714, when the Roman composer Giuseppe Valentini, a very eager experimenter on several fronts, employed it for the fourth sonata of his Allettamenti per camera, Op. 8, for violin and bass. It only appeared again in 1737, in the third of Pietro Antonio Locatelli’s Op. 6 violin sonatas. Notably, the vast published and manuscript repertory of string compositions by Vivaldi and Tartini does not include a single occurrence of this key, even though their marked fondness for E major might lead one to expect otherwise. In England, where treatment of tonal matters had always been more pragmatic than in Italy, the avoidance of B major is equally evident before 1700. There is a keyboard suite by Richard Ayleward and a lute prelude by John Wilson in this key, both from the middle of the seventeenth century, but in view of the use of equal, or near-equal, temperament in keyboard and fretted instruments this is not so surprising.41 For the key’s appearance in ensemble music including strings we have to wait until the turn of the century and just after, when we encounter a remarkable, systematic cultivation of B major by Johann Christoph Pepusch, who had recently arrived from Prussia.42 Pepusch left seven manuscript sets of violin sonatas, each of which contains not twelve but sixteen works, arranged in a fixed cycle of keys, all different. There is a first subset of seven keys all based on tonics within the white-note scale, with their thirds kept diatonic (C, d, e, F, G, a, b); then a second subset of seven keys based on tonics within the same scale, but with their thirds chromatically altered (c, D, E, f, g, A, B); and finally a pair of keys with thirds within the white-note scale but tonics lying outside it (B♭, E♭).43 The likelihood that Novell—who, as an amateur and player of a fretted instrument may well have been unaware of the controversial status of B major in music for violins—took the idea of including it from Pepusch is very high. In sonatas and concertos for strings by other composers resident in England during the following decades the key remains as rare as before. I know of only one occurrence: the third violin sonata in Willem de Fesch’s Op. 4, published in Amsterdam in 1725. Here, revealingly, the composer adds for reassurance the note: ‘Questa Sonata si può Sonare un mezzo tono più Basso giungendovi due bb’ (‘This sonata may be played a semitone lower, with the addition of two flats’). The first fourteen bars of the Preludio of Sonata XII, shown as Ex. 1, place on record Novell’s use of B major.44 They also demonstrate the extent of his reliance on Corelli as a model—indeed, the Corellian topoi leap from the page. We have the ‘walking’ bass, the initial pairing of the upper parts in largely parallel motion, the immediate repetition of the opening gesture (bb. 1–6) in the dominant, and, in bars 10 and 14, the cadential formula (employing simultaneously the resolution of a 4–3 suspension and, in the other part, an anticipation of the tonic to follow) known as the ‘Corelli clash’. Ironically, from Op. 3 (published in 1689) onwards, Corelli himself ceased to use this formula, which remained fashionable in Italy for only a brief time, so Novell was here harking back to an already superseded style.45 He was equally conservative, in relation to Corelli’s own evolving practice, in ‘hinging’ so many of the binary movements on the tonic: in five of these pieces the two sections of the dance are separated by a perfect cadence in the tonic, not the customary tonic imperfect or dominant perfect cadence. To end both sections with a perfect cadence in the tonic, often introducing exactly the same cadential phrase in the manner of a refrain, was normal in binary movements of the mid-seventeenth century, and in Corelli’s Op. 2 the incidence of this solution is still quite high (around 35% of cases); but by Op. 4 it was in full retreat (21% of cases), and it is hardly ever encountered among Italian composers of the younger generation such as Albinoni and Vivaldi. The attractiveness to Novell of the ‘double-tonic’ ending may only have been increased by his fondness in all circumstances for repeating material with the minimum of change. Ex. 1 Open in new tabDownload slide Matthew Novell, Sonata in B major, Op. 1 No. 12, Preludio, bb. 1–14 (bass figures omitted) Ex. 1 Open in new tabDownload slide Matthew Novell, Sonata in B major, Op. 1 No. 12, Preludio, bb. 1–14 (bass figures omitted) The identity and sequence of Novell’s movements as shown in Table 1 can usefully be compared with those of Corelli’s Opp. 2 and 4, which established the ground rules for the sonata da camera, to which Italian and Italianate sonatas by composers of the next generation generally adhered, even if they sometimes departed from them in individual particulars (see Table 2). Ironically, the Corellians were often much less flexible than Corelli himself, turning into unbreakable principles what for him were only tendencies that mutated gradually from opus to opus. Corelli’s abstract (non-dance) movements comprise the preludios as a group and a few internal movements, nearly always in either slow or composite (alternately fast and slow) tempo. The need for such movements amid all the dances must have been stimulated above all by a desire for variety and contrast: none of the five standard Italian dances of the time—not even the sarabanda or the more stately variety of allemanda—was in genuinely slow tempo, which left the composer little choice but to include abstract movements scarcely different from their counterparts in the sonata da chiesa. Table 2 Movement sequences in Corelli’s Opp. 2 and 4: (a) Op. 2; (b) Op. 4 For each sonata in the table the given numbers list the order in which the movements occur. Asterisks identify movements where the dance title is preceded by ‘Tempo di’. For Corelli, this prefix signifies that—while the tempo, metre, and character of the movement conform to the named dance type—the form does not, since the fundamental binary structure is expanded beyond the dimensions of the normal sarabanda or gavotta (a) Sonata . Preludio . Allemanda . Corrente . Sarabanda . Giga . Gavotta . Other . I 1 2 3 4 II 1 2 3 III 1 2, 4 3 IV 1 2 4 3 V 1 2 3 4* VI 1 2 3 VII 1 2 3 4 VIII 1 2 3* 4* IX 1 2* 3 X 1 2 4 3 XI 1 2 3 XII Ciacona (single movement) Sonata . Preludio . Allemanda . Corrente . Sarabanda . Giga . Gavotta . Other . I 1 2 3 4 II 1 2 3 III 1 2, 4 3 IV 1 2 4 3 V 1 2 3 4* VI 1 2 3 VII 1 2 3 4 VIII 1 2 3* 4* IX 1 2* 3 X 1 2 4 3 XI 1 2 3 XII Ciacona (single movement) . (b) . . Sonata . Preludio . Allemanda . Corrente . Sarabanda . Giga . Gavotta . Other . I 1 2 3 II 1 2 3 III 1 2 3 4* IV 1 2 4 3 V 1 2 3 4 VI 1 3 4 2 VII 1 2 4 5 3 VIII 1 2 3 IX 1 2 3* X 1 3* 2 XI 1 3 2 XII 1 2 3 . (b) . . Sonata . Preludio . Allemanda . Corrente . Sarabanda . Giga . Gavotta . Other . I 1 2 3 II 1 2 3 III 1 2 3 4* IV 1 2 4 3 V 1 2 3 4 VI 1 3 4 2 VII 1 2 4 5 3 VIII 1 2 3 IX 1 2 3* X 1 3* 2 XI 1 3 2 XII 1 2 3 Table 2 Movement sequences in Corelli’s Opp. 2 and 4: (a) Op. 2; (b) Op. 4 For each sonata in the table the given numbers list the order in which the movements occur. Asterisks identify movements where the dance title is preceded by ‘Tempo di’. For Corelli, this prefix signifies that—while the tempo, metre, and character of the movement conform to the named dance type—the form does not, since the fundamental binary structure is expanded beyond the dimensions of the normal sarabanda or gavotta (a) Sonata . Preludio . Allemanda . Corrente . Sarabanda . Giga . Gavotta . Other . I 1 2 3 4 II 1 2 3 III 1 2, 4 3 IV 1 2 4 3 V 1 2 3 4* VI 1 2 3 VII 1 2 3 4 VIII 1 2 3* 4* IX 1 2* 3 X 1 2 4 3 XI 1 2 3 XII Ciacona (single movement) Sonata . Preludio . Allemanda . Corrente . Sarabanda . Giga . Gavotta . Other . I 1 2 3 4 II 1 2 3 III 1 2, 4 3 IV 1 2 4 3 V 1 2 3 4* VI 1 2 3 VII 1 2 3 4 VIII 1 2 3* 4* IX 1 2* 3 X 1 2 4 3 XI 1 2 3 XII Ciacona (single movement) . (b) . . Sonata . Preludio . Allemanda . Corrente . Sarabanda . Giga . Gavotta . Other . I 1 2 3 II 1 2 3 III 1 2 3 4* IV 1 2 4 3 V 1 2 3 4 VI 1 3 4 2 VII 1 2 4 5 3 VIII 1 2 3 IX 1 2 3* X 1 3* 2 XI 1 3 2 XII 1 2 3 . (b) . . Sonata . Preludio . Allemanda . Corrente . Sarabanda . Giga . Gavotta . Other . I 1 2 3 II 1 2 3 III 1 2 3 4* IV 1 2 4 3 V 1 2 3 4 VI 1 3 4 2 VII 1 2 4 5 3 VIII 1 2 3 IX 1 2 3* X 1 3* 2 XI 1 3 2 XII 1 2 3 Table 2 demonstrates that Corelli’s Op. 2 sonatas usually include a preludio, but that he was prepared exceptionally to dispense with it. The two or three dances that follow usually observe the order allemanda–corrente–sarabanda–giga–gavotta (moving from the traditionally more formal to the less formal dances), leaving gaps that may or may not be filled by non-dance movements. On one occasion (Sonata X) the traditional order of corrente followed by sarabanda is inverted, while Sonata III is original, and a little startling, in having not one but two allemandas.46 Op. 4 is in some respects more regular, in others less so. There is now a preludio for each sonata, and the traditional sequence of the dances is respected absolutely. On the other hand, the incidence of abstract internal movements is higher, on one occasion (Sonata VII) generating a five-movement work. There is also a perceptible increase in scale in Op. 4, shown by Corelli’s greater use of thematic reprises and an occasional expansion of the tonal trajectory. As can be seen in Table 1, Novell followed Corelli’s Op. 4 in making the preludio a fixed feature. For him, this was often the longest movement of all, a front-weighting that is not unusual as a general feature of multi-movement works of the time but happens to be less evident in the Corellian model. Seven sonatas contain an allemanda, always in its traditional place at the head of the dances but not necessarily in second place overall, given that in Sonata I and Sonata XI it is preceded by one or two non-dance movements. Novell’s several Allegro movements in common time are very allemanda-like in character, and it is not always clear why he withheld the dance title—but the whole question of the inclusion or omission of dance titles when either course of action seems possible is complex and not necessarily the same for all composers or situations.47 The so-called ‘fughetta’ following the preludio in Sonata IX also defies easy explanation. One might have imagined this to be a fugal movement along the lines of those in Henry Purcell’s trio sonatas (which are often called ‘canzona’ after their Roman models), but in fact it contains only a modicum of imitative treatment, and none of the imitation is fugal in a genuine sense, differentiating subject and answer. Ex. 2 shows the movement’s opening. The simplest and most plausible explanation for this oddity is that Novell’s musical training—which, as discussed below, was apparently limited—had not taken him far enough to learn about the specifics of fugue, of which he had only an impressionistic concept. Ex. 2 Open in new tabDownload slide Matthew Novell, Sonata in F sharp minor, Op. 1 No. 9, Fughetta, bb. 1–9 (bass figures omitted) Ex. 2 Open in new tabDownload slide Matthew Novell, Sonata in F sharp minor, Op. 1 No. 9, Fughetta, bb. 1–9 (bass figures omitted) Concerning Novell’s gigas, gavottas, and non-dance movements there is little to add, except that they all tend towards brevity as if their composer found it a relief to complete them. The sixteen-bar, symmetrically constructed giga ending Sonata XII is interesting for having the instruction ‘Da Capo’ at its end, which clearly indicates repetition of the entire movement, not just its second section. Elsewhere such repetition is occasionally demanded, using the same direction, for ultra-short gavottas or minuets, and it could well be that Novell made his intention explicit only because gigas, which were usually more extended movements, were not customarily repeated in toto. Such repeats were doubtless often ornamented or varied with ‘divisions’ in extempore fashion, forming a bridge to the fully notated variation finales that suddenly burst onto the scene in the 1720s. Novell’s ‘tempo di sarabanda’ and ‘tempo di gavotta’ movements, like their Corellian counterparts, seem to be so named because they are a little more extended than their dance prototypes. Such unpretentious movements expose his technical deficiencies less brutally than the abstract movements and longer dances. There is genuine charm in the ‘Tempo di Sarabanda’ movement from Sonata II, quoted in its entirety as Ex. 3, despite a tiny hint of gaucheness on the second beat of bar 7 arising from the eleventh between the outer parts. Here, as elsewhere in the set, Novell’s writing for the violins is extremely conservative. Unlike Corelli or his more enterprising English imitators, such as William Corbett (who could draw on his expertise as a professional violinist), Novell makes no use in his trios of arpeggiated passagework or rapid leaps across strings;48 in that respect his Italian models, like those of Purcell, are composers of a slightly earlier generation such as Giovanni Battista Vitali. Indeed, passagework tout court occupies a very minor place in Novell’s writing, in contrast to canon at the unison or octave, the superabundant use of which sometimes imposes a static, almost mesmeric, quality on the music. While we need to be careful not to make assumptions about Novell’s reasons for publishing his Sonate, nor the market at which he was aiming, it is not unlikely that his caution here was partially dictated by the often very modest level of technical skill among English amateur players. Ex. 3 Open in new tabDownload slide Matthew Novell, Sonata in G minor, Op. 1 No. 2, Tempo di Sarabanda (bass figures omitted) Ex. 3 Open in new tabDownload slide Matthew Novell, Sonata in G minor, Op. 1 No. 2, Tempo di Sarabanda (bass figures omitted) As will have become clear from Exx. 1–3 and the analysis given above, Novell’s sonatas are artistically limited. Perhaps his greatest shortcoming is his insufficient awareness of the need for complementarity of rhythm among the several parts: that is, a part moving in long note-values needs to be set against one in shorter note-values in order to generate overall continuity and regularity of movement. Novell’s music constantly stops and starts, as if gasping for breath, and this disjointedness is emphasized by an excessively quadratic phrase-structure. His harmonic sense often falters, and he finds the second violin part hard to handle: one moment it doubles either the first violin or the bass mechanically in thirds, fourths (bizarrely!), or tenths; the next it goes its own, anarchic way, zigzagging unpredictably from one side of its partner to the other.49 Dissonance treatment is at times irrational, while movement between keys is effected all too often by sudden hiatus instead of orderly modulation. His music is at its most cogent in its cadential phrases, which are the most directly inspired by Corelli. Despite these issues, Novell does at least have a modicum of flair for shapely, even interesting, melodic writing in his first violin parts, as Ex. 3 shows. Indeed, his motivation for writing chamber rather than church sonatas may well have been mainly pragmatic: in so doing, he avoided the need to employ imitative counterpoint extensively and, especially, to compose fugal movements, leaving himself free to start by forming the first violin line (which, revealingly, hardly ever pauses at the start of a movement), and then to add the bass and second violin, probably usually in that order. This is exactly what one might expect from the player of a melody instrument with little or no formal training in composition. For string players to make their debut in print with a set of trio sonatas was so common in the decades around 1700 as to be almost a rite of passage, but the vast majority of such collections were of ‘church’ or mixed type (as evidenced by those of Corbett, Ravenscroft, Sherard, and Topham). This was, however, by no means always the case, Vivaldi’s Op. 1 (1705) offering a signal exception. Yet Vivaldi significantly takes every opportunity to inject contrapuntal interest, whereas Novell’s endeavours in this direction scarcely extend beyond short canonic passages often reminiscent of the English tradition of catches, as illustrated by Ex. 2. NOVELL, ENGLISH CORELLIANISM, AND FINAL THOUGHTS Despite their second publication in Amsterdam, there is no evidence that Novell’s sonatas caused much of a stir. Surviving examples of both editions are rare; critical discussion of them by contemporaries is apparently nil; and there is no sign of their musical influence in any direction. Even if they had possessed the solid qualities of the sonatas by Ravenscroft, Sherard, Topham, and, especially, Corbett, they would very soon have been lost, as those by the named composers were, amid the torrent of competent, and in some instances outstanding, music produced by Italian immigrants and visitors—not forgetting whatever else was easily obtainable from the Continent via Walsh, Roger, and their colleagues. This small group of mostly non-professional native-born composers enjoyed in the years surrounding 1700 only a short window of opportunity before the ‘great influx’ of Italian musicians (to use Lindgren’s vividly apt expression), effectively snatched back for his own countrymen the musical legacy of the Master of Fusignano. And it was not only Italians who dominated sonata production in England at the higher artistic levels: the Germans Pepusch and Handel also played their part. In time, English composers such as William Boyce would once again produce trio sonatas of comparable merit, but these are no longer recognizably ‘Corellian’ pieces, thanks to Handel’s transformative influence. It would be a mistake, however, to dismiss the trio sonata production of this early group as nothing more than epigonic. Except in the special case of the émigré Ravenscroft, whose sonatas were not merely remarkably close in style to those of his mentor Corelli but in fact so close that they could later be plausibly marketed under the latter’s name,50 each of these composers clung to something of an earlier heritage, be it English consort music or the Italian music of the generation immediately preceding Corelli. This could have brought about an interesting synthesis; if it did not (with perhaps the qualified exception of Corbett), the reason lay in their individual musical abilities rather than in the viability of such a conjunction. Unlike Ravenscroft, Sherard, and Topham in their initial publications, Novell did not label his 1704 sonatas as his Op. 1. This could mean either that he was uncertain whether he would commit to print any further sets or that he regarded the sonatas from the start as a valedictory gesture towards a music-dominated phase of his early adult life that could not and would not endure. I consider the second explanation the more likely. In England, as in Europe generally, a distinction was drawn between music as a socially approved accomplishment (like fencing, dancing, or drawing), to be cultivated in public view particularly in adolescence and early adulthood, and music as a ‘mercenary’ profession best left to those who lived by it. Rising up the social scale—through posts held, trades or professions exercised, or sheer wealth—sooner or later restricted or entirely prevented musical activity among non-professionals, who grew either to lack the time for it or to consider it unbefitting a gentleman. So it was that Domenico Passionei (1682–1761), a collection of whose cello sonatas had been published by Jeanne Roger, gave up composing (or at least the publication of his music) to pursue a glittering ecclesiastical career in papal service; similarly, the professional violinists Pierre Pagin (1723–99) and Giovanni Stefano Carbonelli (1694–1773) disappeared from public view as musicians once they had established themselves as, respectively, a tax collector in France and a wine merchant in England.51 It is significant that both Matthew (III) Novell’s father Thomas and his son John (III) are described in documents as ‘gentlemen’, a term used during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries with great precision (to assert the possession of independent wealth), if not always total veracity. Matthew himself must have felt the full weight of his status and is likely to have taken care to regulate his non-professional activity accordingly. Certainly, membership of a music club could have provided a suitable space for him to continue, semi-privately, his involvement with music—the very attraction of such clubs for amateurs was that they preserved social decorum—but Novell’s move first from London and then from England may have effectively ruled out this solution. Leaving aside the many points of special interest, both positive and negative, in Novell’s sonatas, their main importance lies in the social rather than the musical realm. They are clearly the work of an enthusiast with little systematic musical training beyond what was needed for proficiency as a performer, but with anticipated financial backing from at least one patron and enough self-belief to venture into print. Writing about English song of a period slightly later in the eighteenth century, Richard Goodall commented astutely on how easily undistinguished music could achieve publication: The sheer volume of printed song, and the lamentable quality of a good deal of it, shows that a composer of the slightest accomplishment had little trouble in getting his work published. Minor composers in the provinces often relied on the subscriptions of prominent local personalities, and funds made available by blue-blooded patrons to assist publication were amply rewarded by a customarily sycophantic dedication to the benefactor.52 Mutatis mutandis, this verdict applies with scarcely less force to instrumental music. Nevertheless, the ‘little trouble in getting [one’s] work published’ to which Goodall refers, while perfectly true as an objective statement, needs a little contextual explanation to escape giving the simplistic impression of personal or societal indifference to artistic standards. As we have seen, proficiency in music was viewed in the middle and upper levels of the society of Novell’s day as a socially desirable accomplishment, and the publication of original music could take on something of the character of a certificate of attainment for young male (and, just sometimes, female) adults: not something necessarily to repeat over a lifetime or to use as a preparation for professional activity, but certainly a proud achievement on which to look back. Except among the more successful professionals, there was usually no ambition to reach a mass market, the aim being rather to gratify one’s family, friends, benefactors, local community, and social circle. Once the wish to publish was there, the means were straightforward provided that one had the money to pay a freelance engraver or a willing publisher, and perhaps also to advertise the publication in the press. Extra funding could be secured by finding a patron, as Novell apparently did, or by opening a subscription list. The lack of any effective gatekeeping mechanism comparable to that in operation since the nineteenth century that would inhibit the publication of music considered artistically (or, for that matter, commercially) below par naturally led to a proliferation in print of trivial, ephemeral, and also incompetent music alongside the more professional products that publishers were increasingly willing to finance from their own pockets and sometimes even to commission. This ‘mixed economy’ of music publishing fitted in remarkably well with the highly social and diffused character of English musical life, expressed in its purest form by the music clubs that occupied nearly every corner of the land. The size and diversity of music-making and music-consuming communities meant that in many circles the character and quality of musical production were determined not by professionals or connoisseurs but by lay enthusiasts. This was partly the effect, and partly the cause, of a weakness in the typical English method of musical instruction. In Italy, and perhaps even more in France and most of Germany, musical instruction was generally strict and thorough, based on a small number of authoritative textbooks that imposed a degree of consensus and uniformity. The imagination was perhaps not liberated by this mode of musical inculcation, but it at least gave would-be composers a firm grounding in their craft. By comparison, education in musical composition in England was haphazard and uneven, dependent on the individual teacher, or even the student’s unguided observation, rather than on a shared theoretical and institutional foundation. Plenty of textbooks on music theory and the art of composition were published in England, but few advanced beyond an elementary level, and none achieved the position of pre-eminence that would have allowed it to become the reference point for a national consensus. One of the obvious casualties of this haphazardness was Novell, who in odd moments displays a spark of real musical enterprise and invention, but who evidently did not have the technical know-how to realize its potential fully. Having added his widow’s mite to the pile of English Corelliana, he quickly departed the public arena, turning his professional attention to an alternative source of human satisfaction. I wish to thank Harry Johnstone for providing helpful comments on an early draft of this article. Assistance of many kinds from several other people is gratefully acknowledged in the footnotes. Footnotes " 1 John Hawkins, A General History of the Science and Practice of Music, 5 vols. (London, 1776), v. 82. The listing was taken from the sale catalogue of Britton’s library. " 2 William S. Newman, The Sonata in the Baroque Era (History of the Sonata Idea, 1; Chapel Hill, NC, 1959), 311. Newman’s incorrect statement that the sonatas came out ‘about 1690’, which was probably derived from a library catalogue, has misled several later writers. Worse, the same year has occasionally been given in peripheral sources as that of Novell’s death—an inaccuracy made more plausible by the fact that a different Matthew Novell, who was probably the composer’s uncle (or just possibly his father), did actually die in that year. " 3 Lowell E. Lindgren, ‘The Great Influx of Italians and their Instrumental Music into London, 1701–1710’, in Gregory Barnett, Antonella D’Ovidio, and Stefano La Via (eds.), Arcangelo Corelli fra mito e realtà storica: Nuove prospettive d’indagine musicologica e interdisciplinare nel 350o anniversario della nascita. Atti del congresso internazionale di studi, Fusignano, 11–14 settembre 2003, 2 vols. (Florence, 2007), ii. 419–84 at 467. " 4 Peter Holman, Life after Death: The Viola da Gamba in Britain from Purcell to Dolmetsch (Woodbridge, 2010), 33–5. It is from Holman that I have borrowed the epithet ‘mysterious’ in the title to this article. This author groups Novell among the ‘other professional players around 1700’. Novell’s professional status, even temporarily, seems to me very improbable for reasons to be given, but this does not, of course, affect the rest of Holman’s description and argument. " 5 Min-Jung Kang, ‘The Trio Sonata in Restoration England (1660–1714)’ (Ph.D. diss., University of Leeds, 2008), 185. The composite manuscript containing the sonatas (and much else, by a variety of composers) is Tyson MS 2. " 6 This is ‘Blind Love to this hour’, which survives in a songsheet engraved by Thomas Cross, of which the sole preserved exemplar is in the Rowe Music Library, King’s College, Cambridge (shelfmark Rw.110.22/11). Its anonymous text initially echoes a song in John Dryden’s frequently revived comedy Sir Martin Mar-all, or The Feign’d Innocence (1667), but soon goes its own way and is much shorter. The library estimates the date as 1705. I am grateful to Gareth Burgess at the Rowe Music Library for providing the shelfmark and describing the volume. " 7 Holman, Life after Death, 35. " 8 Throughout this article Old Style dates are altered so that the new year begins on 1 January rather than 25 March. " 9 On Crouch the violinist, see Peter Holman, Four and Twenty Fiddlers: The Violin at the English Court, 1540–1690 (Oxford, 1993), 413 and 417. " 10 On the early history of the term and subgenre, with specific reference to multi-movement compositions, see Michael Talbot, Benedetto Vinaccesi: A Musician in Brescia and Venice in the Age of Corelli (Oxford, 1994), 132–7. Later contributions on the same subject include Sandra Mangsen, ‘The “Sonata da camera” before Corelli: A Renewed Search’, Music & Letters, 76 (1995), 19–31, and Gregory Barnett, Bolognese Instrumental Music, 1660–1710: Spiritual Comfort, Courtly Delight, and Commercial Triumph (Aldershot, 2008), 35–6. " 11 The three examples of the edition listed in RISM’s International Inventory of Musical Sources (https://opac.rism.info/) comprise one with a duplicate bass part (Washington, Library of Congress), one with a single bass part (Berkeley, Jean Gray Hargrove Memorial Library), and an incomplete one comprising merely the Violino Primo and Violone o Cimbalo parts (London, British Library). The fact that duplicate bass parts occur from time to time in surviving published sets of trio sonatas with an undifferentiated musical text for the melody and harmony instruments assigned to the bass suggests—in apparent contradiction of the word ‘o’ (‘or’)—that whatever nuance is placed on this conjunction, performers often took a pragmatic approach, adapting the mode of performance to the players and instruments available. On the vexed question of deciding between one and two (or more) performers for the bass, see especially Sandra Mangsen, ‘The Trio Sonata in Pre-Corellian Prints: When Does 3 = 4?’, Performance Practice Review, 3 (1990), 138–64, and David Watkin, ‘Corelli’s Op. 5 Sonatas: “Violino, violone o cembalo”?’, Early Music, 24 (1996), 645–63. " 12 Since the publication of Stephen Bonta’s article ‘Terminology for the Bass Violin in Seventeenth-Century Italy’ (Journal of the American Instrument Society, 4 (1978), 5–42), there has been general, albeit not universal, agreement that the ‘violone’ named in Roman, Bolognese, and related publications is the violone piccolo (i.e. a bass violin or cognate instrument playing at ‘eight-foot’ pitch), not the violone grande, or contrabass. This is in contradistinction to Venetian usage, where the unmarked term ‘violone’ normally denotes a contrabass instrument. " 13 On the important role of private publication on the London musical scene, see Rebecca Herrisone, ‘Playford, Purcell, and the Functions of Music Publishing in Restoration England’, Journal of the American Musicological Society, 63 (2010), 243–90; Michael Kassler (ed.), The Music Trade in Georgian England (Farnham, 2011); and Stephanie Carter, ‘Music Publishing and Compositional Activity in England, 1650–1700’ (Ph.D. diss., University of Manchester, 2010), 83–5. " 14 See especially Holman, Life after Death, 33, and Lindgren, ‘The Great Influx of Italians’, 467. " 15 See John Foster, Alumni Oxonienses: The Members of the University of Oxford, 1500–1714, 4 vols. (Oxford, 1891), accessible online at www.british-history.ac.uk/alumni-oxon/1500-1714 (last accessed 5 Aug. 2017), and John Venn and J. A. Venn, Alumni Cantabrigienses: A Biographical List of All Known Students, Graduates and Holders of Office at the University of Cambridge from the Earliest Times to 1900, 10 vols. (Cambridge, 1922–54), accessible online via the ACAD database at http://venn.lib.cam.uc.uk/Documents/acad/intro.html (last accessed 5 Aug. 2017). " 16 Lindgren, ‘The Great Influx of Italians’, 467. " 17 John Ingamells, A Dictionary of British and Irish Travellers in Italy, 1701–1800 (New Haven and London, 1997). If Beaufort had undertaken a more modest and less time-consuming Grand Tour, taking in (say) only France and the Low Countries, this could account for his omission from Ingamells’s dictionary, and such a possibility should not altogether be discounted. " 18 On Sherard’s life, see Michael Tilmouth, ‘James Sherard: An English Amateur Composer’, Music & Letters, 47 (1966), 313–22. " 19 The date for this edition, 1706, given in François Lesure, Bibliographie des éditions musicales publiées par Estienne Roger et Michel-Charles Le Cène (Amsterdam, 1696–1743) (Publications de la Societé française de musicologie, 2nd ser., 12; Paris, 1969), 75, was emended to 1705 in Klaus Hortschansky, ‘Die Datierung der frühen Musikdrucke Etienne Rogers: Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen’, Tijdschrift van de Vereniging voor Nederlandse Muziekgeschiedenis, 22 (1972), 252–86 at 278, on the basis of the listing of the publication in a catalogue of music appended to Roger’s edition from that year of Alonso Fernandez de Avellaneda’s Nouvelles avantures de l’admirable Don Quichotte de la Manche, a publication not known to Lesure. The incorrect year is still often cited in modern writings. RISM records only one example of the Roger edition, in the Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris; this source has duplicate bass parts. " 20 Cousser’s address book, maintained over many years and now preserved as Yale University, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, James Marshall and Marie-Louise Osborn Collection, Osborn Music MS 16, was first brought to light by Samantha Owens. The entry relating to Novell is discussed in Holman, Life after Death, 34–5. " 21 James Sherard seems to have given up serious involvement with music around 1711 on account of worsening gout, finding in his brother’s subject, botany, the perfect replacement activity. Perhaps Novell’s apparent cessation of musical activity, at least as a composer, arose from a similar combination of ‘push’ factors (such as the poor public reception of his music) and ‘pull’ factors (such as immersion in a non-musical occupation). " 22 For information about births, marriages, and deaths I have referred in particular to three online databases transmitting information largely taken from earlier published sources: FamilySearch at https://familysearch.org, FreeReg at www.freereg.org.uk/, and Findmypast at search.findmypast.co.uk. Each of these databases has its particular advantages and drawbacks, but cross-checking can usually produce a result fuller and more robust than that provided by any of them individually. Because of the widespread sharing of data between sites, there is an ever-present risk that errors in one will be reproduced automatically in another, and this possibility has been borne in mind here. " 23 William may well have been a resident not of Farnham itself, but of neighbouring Wrecclesham, for a John Marner is mentioned together with William’s future father-in-law Simon (or Symon) Marner as a resident of that village in registers of the Surrey Musters (a review of the county’s trained bands) for 1584 and on one later, undated occasion during the reign of Elizabeth I, while John appears together with a William Novell, again listed under Wrecclesham, in a muster roll of 1596. See Surrey Musters (Surrey Record Society Publications, 3; London, 1919), 63, 76, 125, and 251–2. Novell and Marner were identified as billmen in 1584, but as archers in the undated register. " 24 The exact date of the conferring of the BD degree, not stated in ACAD, is given in Arthur T. Russell, Memorials of the Life and Works of Thomas Fuller D. D. (London, 1844), 66. " 25 Details of the clerical careers of John and some of his descendants are taken from the Clergy of the Church of England Database (CCEd) at http://theclergydatabase.org.uk. This needs to be used with care, since it is not free from contradictions and confusions or lacunae, but it constitutes a remarkably useful resource, especially since it collates clerical records with educational ones. " 26 There are two editions, apparently identical except for their title pages: The Seditious Principle (the principle in question being the foundation of kingship on popular consent), and An Examination and Confutation of a Late Dangerous Principle. " 27 I am grateful to Ann Howarth for verifying that the memorial (and one to another of John’s sons, William) remains in its original place in the church. " 28 I owe this information to the kindness of David Mason, who consulted the burial register on my behalf. " 29 This birth year and place are given with no further details in CCEd, but are seemingly absent from the genealogical databases consulted. " 30 The text was originally transcribed, with some degree of cosmetic regularization and along with those for Matthew (I) and Mary, in Charles Parkin, An Essay towards a Topographical History of the County of Norfolk, 5 vols. (London, 1775), iv. 51. This transcription is by Tim Webster, who kindly checked for me the continued presence of the three stones and added the very useful information that the stone for Matthew (II) is in a different colour (grey rather than black) and different material from those of his parents. " 31 Entry for Thomas Novel [sic] at http://venn.lib.cam.ac.uk/Documents/acad/intro.html. " 32 See http://munksroll.rcplondon.ac.uk/Biography/Details/3345. " 33Allegations for Marriage Licences Issued by the Vicar-General of the Archbishop of Canterbury, ed. G. J. Armytage, 2 vols. (Harleian Society Publications, 33–4; London, 1892), ii. 129. " 34 Information from Kew, National Archives, C 11/1513/5 (Court of Chancery, Six Clerks Office, Novell v. Gordon), the answer, dated 18 July 1734, of Joseph Gorden (or Gordon) and three others to the bills of complaint issued by John (III) Novell in 1732 and 1733, which are discussed in more detail below. This Thomas Novell is described there as a ‘Marriner’ living in St Botolph’s Lane, Aldgate, London. " 35 London Apprenticeship Abstracts, 1442–1850, accessed on 5 Aug. 2017 via search.findmypast.co.uk. The most common age at which to commence an apprenticeship was 14, and London apprenticeships normally ran for seven years, often concluding around the time when the apprentice attained his or her majority. Matthew’s parentage and approximate date of birth receive confirmation from information given in the first bill of complaint of John (III) Novell, dated 23 Dec. 1732 (Kew, The National Archives, C 11/1513/5), discussed below. " 36 At this time Mary possessed a certain amount of income-bearing landed property in Northwold and the surrounding area inherited via her late husband Thomas from his father John (I). " 37 This, again, is according to the bill of complaint issued by John (III) Novell in Kew, The National Archives, C 11/1513/5, on 23 Dec. 1732. " 38 Information from Kew, The National Archives, C 11/1513/5, first bill of complaint of John Novell dated 23 Dec. 1732, discussed below. Until 1787 Anglicans in Oporto had no burial ground, so the likelihood is that Matthew (unless a convert to Catholicism in the meantime) was buried according to the custom of the time on the banks of the Douro river. " 39 On these questions, see Rita Steblin, A History of Key Characteristics in the Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries (2nd edn., Rochester, NY, 2002). " 40 Cazzati’s Capriccio is discussed and illustrated with a music example in Barnett, Bolognese Instrumental Music, 289–90. " 41 I am indebted to Andrew Woolley and Peter Holman for information on Ayleward and Wilson. " 42 The date of Pepusch’s arrival in England is not established with certainty, but was no earlier than autumn 1697. Novell could conceivably have been his pupil, but since Pepusch was far and away the most productive composer of both solo and trio sonatas working in England in the first decade of the 18th c., his use of B major will in any case have been evident from works in general circulation. " 43 Pepusch’s treatment of tonality in these sets receives detailed and illuminating discussion in Donald Frederick Cook, ‘The Life and Works of Johann Christoph Pepusch (1667–1752)’, 2 vols. (Ph.D. diss., University of London, 1982), 35–9. " 44 Novell follows conventional practice in notating B major with four sharps in the key signature (a logical extension of using two sharps for A major and three for E major) and in indicating double sharps with ordinary sharps understood as inflections of the same sharp present in the key signature. " 45 On the ‘Corelli clash’, see Michael Talbot, ‘Stylistic Evolution in Corelli’s Music’, in Stefano La Via (ed.), Studi corelliani V. Atti del quinto congresso internazionale (Fusignano, 9–11 settembre 1994) (Florence, 1996), 143–58 at 144. " 46 The Ciacona that constitutes by itself the entire twelfth sonata is left out of consideration here, being sui generis within the set. " 47 This vexed question is addressed, with particular reference to Albinoni and Vivaldi, in Michael Talbot, ‘The “Stylized Dance” in Italian Sonatas of the Late Baroque’, De Musica Disserenda, 2 (2006), 99–105. " 48 For a comparison, see e.g. Corbett’s fluent cross-string and arpeggiated writing in both fast movements of the tenth sonata from his Op. 1. " 49 It should be pointed out, however, that ‘criss-crossing’ second treble parts were a traditional feature of pre-1700 English string writing, as seen in many airs with a second violin part by the elder Nicola Matteis, who in this respect ‘went native’. " 50 On these misattributed sonatas and Ravenscroft in general, see Patrizio Barbieri and Michael Talbot, ‘A Gentleman in Exile: Life and Background of the Composer John Ravenscroft’, Early Music History, 31 (2012), 3–35. " 51 On Passionei, see Michael Talbot, ‘Domenico Silvio Passionei and his Cello Sonatas’, Recercare, 23 (2011), 189–215; on Pagin and Carbonelli, see idem, ‘Pierre Pagin’s Capriccios for Antonio Vivaldi’s Violin Concerto La primavera, RV 269’, in Fulvia Morabito (ed.), Locatelli and the Violin Bravura Tradition (Studies on Italian Music History, 9; Turnhout, 2015), 165–93, and idem, ‘From Giovanni Stefano Carbonelli to John Stephen Carbonell: A Violinist Turned Vintner in Handel’s London’, Göttinger Händel-Beiträge, 14 (2012), 265–99. " 52 Richard Goodall, Eighteenth-Century English Secular Cantatas (New York and London, 1989), 16. © The Author (2017). Published by Oxford University Press. All rights reserved.
TI - The Mysterious Matthew Novell: An English Imitator of Corelli
JF - Music and Letters
DO - 10.1093/ml/gcx081
DA - 2017-08-01
UR - https://www.deepdyve.com/lp/oxford-university-press/the-mysterious-matthew-novell-an-english-imitator-of-corelli-AcpC09su5S
SP - 343
VL - 98
IS - 3
DP - DeepDyve
ER -