The 220th anniversary of the birth of Franz Schubert (1797-1828) at the end of January 2017 provides a welcome excuse for us to explore the rich Schubert holdings at the British Library. Drawing on materials assembled by several important collectors, these range from curiosities relating to the man himself to sources documenting practical engagement with his music.

Collectors collect all sorts of things. The same Frederick George Edwards who gathered a leaf from Mozart’s grave also collected one from Schubert’s. 'Grave-leaf collecting' is admittedly an unusual activity. In a more conventional manner, the writer Stefan Zweig (1881-1942) began to amass famous signatures in his teenage years by waiting at stage doors and sending unsolicited requests to literary and artistic luminaries.

Leaf collected from Schubert’s grave in 1890. British Library, Egerton MS 3097 B, folio 13

As the years passed, Zweig's desire to collect developed further, and he went on to assemble a wide-ranging assortment of manuscripts of musical, literary and historical significance. In later life, he bought, sold and traded scores by many famous composers, including Mozart, Bach and Wagner as well as Schubert. The collection formed at the time of his death (along with a few later additions) was generously donated to the British Library by his heirs in 1986.

Stefan Zweig (1881-1942)]

Zweig's manuscript of Schubert’s An die Musik has already been featured in this blog, and seems to have been particularly important to him. Other Schubert examples include the Misero pargoletto (D. 42) (Zweig MS 78); Four German dances for piano (D. 146/2; D.769/1; D.783/1-2) (Zweig MS 79); Dance in A flat for piano (D.365/2) (Zweig MS 80); Schlachtlied, for double male-voice choir (D.912) (Zweig MS 82) and Mirjams Siegesgesang, for soprano solo, choir and piano (D.942) (Zweig MS 83).

Schubert's Dance in A flat for piano (‘Deutscher’) (D.365/2). British Library, Zweig MS 80, folio 1 verso

Zweig talks about collecting only the most representative examples of a particular composer’s work, and in so doing trying to capture the essence of creation itself. His memoir, The World of Yesterday, also makes it clear that, for him, collecting wasn’t purely about ownership:

Of course I never considered myself the owner of these things, only their custodian for a certain time. I was not tempted by a sense of possession, of having them for myself, but I was intrigued by the idea of bringing them together, making a collection into a work of art. I was aware that in this collection I had created something that in itself was worthier to last than my own works.

Stefan Zweig (trans. Anthea Bell), The World of Yesterday (Pushkin Press, 2011),  p. 377

To a certain extent, collecting will always be a reflection of the individual undertaking it and the context of their time. This is evident in the activities of a slightly earlier collector, the pianist and composer Ernst Perabo (1845-1920). Perabo assembled a collection that included music in the hands of Beethoven, Bach, Mozart and other familiar names. This treasure trove also contains a number of autograph Schubert manuscripts, including the Mass in B flat (D.324), several songs, and the G major “Fantasie” piano sonata (D.894) (the latter to be made available on the Digitised Manuscripts website later this year). Most of Perabo’s manuscript collection is thought to have been purchased from a sale in Leipzig in 1882, having originally been in the possession of the Austrian publisher Tobias Haslinger.

Schubert's Piano Sonata in G Major, D.894. British Library Add. MS 36738, folio 1 verso

For several decades after his death, Schubert’s piano sonatas were rarely performed. Perabo was among the earliest pianists to introduce them to the public. He noticed differences between the text of the manuscripts and published editions which he described in a journal article. He pasted a copy of the text at the end of one of his Schubert manuscripts, and presumably went on to incorporate his observations into subsequent performances.

Perabo's article on Schubert, British Library Add. MS 36738, folio 18 recto

The details of another pianist’s interactions with Schubert are also preserved in the British Library, courtesy of the collection of scores belonging to Clifford Curzon (1907-1982). These include Curzon's own copies of standard printed editions, marked up with annotations. Among them is the B-flat major piano sonata, D.960 (Add. MS 65057). The delicate and well-worn pages give a fascinating insight into his meticulous preparations for performance.

Curzon’s collection also includes scores of Liszt’s arrangement of Schubert’s ‘Wanderer’ fantasy (D.760). Such ‘re-composition’ of Schubert’s works occurred frequently. Examples include  the Viennese-operetta stylings of Franz von Suppé, the Berté/Romberg/Clutsam sensation Lilac Time (as it was known in its UK version – Richard Tauber played Schubert in the film version, Blossom Time), Anton Webern’s distilled modernist orchestrations, and the postmodern re-imaginings of Luciano Berio and Dieter Schnebel (the latter based on the same piano sonata represented in the Perabo collection) .

Another example can be found in a printed score of Schubert string quartets formerly owned by the composer Gustav Mahler (1860-1911). This, along with other items from Mahler’s library, had passed to the musicologist and publisher Donald Mitchell, who then deposited the materials at the British Library. In the 1890s, Mahler made an arrangement of Schubert's ‘Death and the Maiden’ string quartet, D.810, for string orchestra. Mahler's lightly annotated copy of the score includes a few, characteristically fastidious, pencil annotations, providing an insight into the small amendments that he made in his own arrangement.

Score of Schubert’s 'Death and the Maiden' string quartet, D.810, annotated by Gustav Mahler. British Library MS Mus. 101

 

Chris Scobie
Rare Books & Music Reference Service

Now and again the innocent toil of a music cataloguer is enlivened by something unusual, even unique.  A case in point is an early-19th-century sonata for piano five hands, enigmatically entitled Le souvenir.  It is a substantial three-movement work by the little-known organist, music teacher, composer and bookseller James Knottesford Ansell (1776–1860), once a resident of St Pancras parish in which the British Library now stands.  The style of the music is reminiscent of his younger contemporary Rossini, whose operas were then just beginning to take the musical world by storm.

Precise dating of music editions presents a perennial problem, but this copy displays two crucial pieces of evidence.  A faint but discernible watermark date of 1815 and a faint but discernible pencilled inscription by the composer to “Miss Coupland Novr 24th 1815 JKA” neatly combine to place the date of publication neither before nor after 1815.

J K Ansell, Le souvenir : sonate à cinque mains pour le piano forte (London, 1815) British Library h.3212.t.(5.), title-page

Works for two, four and even six hands at one piano need no further explanation.  And there is a substantial literature of piano music for left hand alone, memorably featured in the horror film The beast with five fingers (1946).  This repertoire had already received a tragic boost when the Austrian pianist Paul Wittgenstein, elder brother of the philosopher Ludwig, lost his right arm in action on the Russian front during World War I.  Readers of an advanced age may also remember the three-hand piano duo formed by Phyllis Sellick and her husband Cyril Smith (not the Liberal MP!) after he suffered a paralytic stroke while on a concert tour in the same country.

Five hands, however, seems an eccentric diversion from the norm.  Ansell’s sonata bears a printed dedication to “Mesdemoiselles Loraine”, who may readily be imagined as three sisters receiving piano lessons from the composer.  At first I drew the obvious conclusion that the youngest, or the least competent, was as yet unable to co-ordinate two hands together reliably.  Then the idea took root in my mind that one of them had suffered a horrendous industrial accident while working in a satanic textile mill.  Or had she perhaps lost an upper limb during the Napoleonic conflict so recently concluded, before her French family took refuge in England?

Slow introduction to Ansell’s sonata, h.3212.t.(5.), pages 2–3

The music is laid out in the fashion familiar to piano duettists, the bass or secondo part on the left-hand pages and the treble or primo part on the right, with an extra stave above each line of music to accommodate the one-handed terzo part.  Whether this was intended to be played by the right or the left hand is unclear: a smart young lady would probably have cheated by using both.

We may never know the full story behind this intriguing work, but we may take pride in the achievement of a visionary British composer.  His originality still resonates today in the closed world of music cataloguing as the progenitor of a hitherto unknown Library of Congress subject heading “Sonatas (Piano, 5 hands)”.

Robert Balchin

Music Cataloguer

The Boosey & Hawkes Archive in storage before transfer to the British Library

The recent post on the Library’s acquisition of the album of Vincent Novello, father of the publishing house, provides a useful reminder to announce the acquisition in the past year of another collection relating to British music publishing: the archive of Boosey and Hawkes. This is undoubtedly one of the most important music acquisitions in recent years, and in terms of size, it is certainly the largest. Comprising many hundreds of boxes of documents relating to the business of the firm for about a hundred years up to around 1980, it is of enormous research value, charting, as it does, the rich role that Boosey and Hawkes played in the musical life of the nation during that period; and of course the company is thriving and still very much in business today.

The modern company was formed in 1930 when the two founder firms merged: one had been established at the end of the 18^th century as a lending library by John Boosey, before moving into publishing popular operas as they became fashionable in the mid-nineteenth century. William Henry Hawkes, on the other hand, was a military musician who set out to provide editions of woodwind and brass music in the second half of the 19^th century. The new firm therefore came to cater for all musical tastes, producing editions of light music, popular songs, music for brass and military bands, dance orchestras, as well as publishing the works of some of the greatest classical composers of the 20^th century. Today no other British music publisher has a greater international standing.

During the 20^th century Boosey & Hawkes were pioneering in their support of contemporary music. They had a keen eye for identifying composers whom we now recognise to be amongst the greatest of the time: Bartók, Richard Strauss, Rachmaninov, Prokofiev, Martinů and Copland, for example, as well as the major British composers Elgar, Delius, Vaughan Williams, Britten and Maxwell Davies.

Though most of the autograph scores of the major composers do not form part of the archive, the archive contains documentation relating to just about every other aspect of the publication process and the promotion of the composers and their works. The correspondence between publisher and composer, for example, when considered side by side with the annotated proofs of the editions, shows how compositions reached their final form in print. So there are about 50 Stravinsky proofs and about 250 letters. In addition, there are about 100 letters from Benjamin Britten, whose works the company published until the mid ’60s. Other papers in the archive relate to performance, copyright, royalties, contracts and other legal matters.

None of this material has been publicly accessible to researchers before, so it is of enormous interest and importance. The archive is currently being arranged and catalogued and we look forward to making it available in our reading rooms as soon as we are able. Meanwhile, Helen Wallace’s Boosey & Hawkes: the publishing story (London, 2007) gives a flavour of what treasures and excitement to expect.

The Boosey & Hawkes Archive in its new location at the British Library

Richard Chesser

Head of Music

Trumpet part for Lew Stone’s arrangement of ‘Sam, you made the pants too long’. British Library MS Mus. 1746/3/4, f. 18

In London’s 1930s high life, only the smartest entertainment and only the freshest music would do – and these are what the new Monseigneur restaurant, opened in 1931 at 215 Piccadilly, promised its clientele.  Lew Stone (1898-1969), having already made a name for himself as a craftsman of snappy arrangements, was originally pianist and arranger for the band in residence – he can be seen at his duties here – but found himself in charge when its leader Roy Fox fell ill.  The music Stone then brought to the Monseigneur’s dance-floor made the band so popular that, by mutual agreement, he was given the job permanently.  At the helm of a band ranked among the best in London, he made recordings with Decca and radio broadcasts on the BBC, and became a household name in Britain, his musical career lasting until his death in 1969.

Lew Stone’s widow Joyce, who promoted her husband’s legacy energetically, presented many of his original manuscript scores to the British Library for its music collections.  The Lew Stone collection (British Library: MS Mus. 1746) is now in the process of being catalogued and includes not only full scores from throughout his career but individual instrument parts actually used when the band performed.  Some bear the scribbled names of band-members well-known in their own right, such as Nat Gonella (trumpeter), Don Barrigo (saxophonist) or Tiny Winters (bassist).

Well-used parts for Lew Stone’s signature tune: a ‘fanfare if wanted’ followed by a few bars each of ‘Oh! Susannah’ and ‘Goodbye Blues’. MS Mus. 1746/3/1, f. 14

Many of the parts are scrawled over with cues and prompts: ‘Close in to ‘Mike’’, ‘Have Plunger Ready’ and ‘Remind Lew’ of how many bars to omit during broadcasts, or pencil drawings of spectacles to attract attention and avert disaster.  In some places the manuscripts are scorched, as if the musicians had perched lit cigarettes on their music.  Then there are the doodles: signs of missed vocations in the band?

Doodle, possibly by Nat Gonella, on the score of ‘The Three Trees’, of three trees and a geometric dog. MS Mus. 1746/3/2, f. 21

  Meticulous annotation of the band-leader’s face. MS Mus. 1746/3/11, f. 11

In addition to arrangements of popular melodies, romantic numbers or nonsensical melodramas sung by members of the band, several sets of scores are Lew Stone’s original compositions.  One tune, ‘Whispering Waters’, was composed by Joyce and arranged by her husband (clarinets to play ‘liquidly’).  There are some initial drafts and sketches for songs and collaborations with lyricists, and also incidental music composed for the 1940 film ‘Under your Hat’ (directed by Maurice Elvey).  And throughout the collection Lew Stone’s own adjustments and re-adjustments appear on the scores, the proof of how finely he tuned a sound that once livened up dance-floors and the airwaves all over the country.

Incidental music for the film ‘Under your Hat’ (1940). MS Mus. 1746/3/40, f. 3

The1^st Alto Saxophone part of ‘Whispering Waters’, Joyce Stone’s tune, arranged by her husband (1940). MS Mus. 1746/3/35, f. 3v

 

Dominic Newman

Music Manuscript and Archival Cataloguer

The British Library always attempts to identify copyright holders in order to give proper acknowledgement when reproducing their material. Please email [email protected] if you believe you hold rights connected with any of the content included in this article.

Come Santa Claus!

The children wait for thee.

Now's the season of the year,

Held by children very dear.

Santa Claus,

Now at your call,

Comes to gladden one and all.

Horace Lennard's lyrics for the opening number of the 'fairy pantomime' Santa Claus, staged at London's Lyceum Theatre from December 1894, are quaintly (or perhaps cloyingly, depending on your taste) late Victorian. Oscar Bennett's music perhaps even more so.

Selected numbers from Oscar Barrett’s 'fairy pantomime' Santa Claus (Metzler & Co., 1895). British Library F.688.(3.), title-page

I found myself looking at it recently having recently visited the British Library's Victorian Entertainments: There will be fun exhibition (open until March 2017). A connection formed between pantomime (represented in the exhibition particularly by Dan Leno, music hall star and famous Victorian pantomime dame), and a large collection of manuscript music from the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane (where Leno regularly appeared).

Amongst that collection, now here at the British Library, are six boxes of music for the Santa Claus pantomime. Although the music that came from the Drury Lane theatre isn’t necessarily all from productions there, it includes a lot of material associated with the composer and theatrical producer Oscar Barrett (1847-1941). Barrett worked at the theatre as musical director for some time in the 1880s, but soon mounted rival pantomimes at the Lyceum. 

Through the 1870s, the productions of Sir Augustus Harris (both senior and junior), began a trend in pantomime towards scenic spectacle, rowdy audience participation, and star turns by music hall performers of the day such as Dan Leno and Marie Lloyd (who would often bring their own songs and routines with them). Under Barrett, the music at least seems to have become more tightly controlled and 'tasteful' (a term that crops up in a lot of the newspaper reports of these performances).

Barrett had a critical hit in 1893-4 with Cinderella, his first production at the Lyceum, which was seen by some as returning to earlier models of pantomime. Interestingly, this in turns seems to have influenced subsequent productions at Drury Lane. (Jeffrey Richards, The Golden Age of Pantomime, 2010, details the various rival productions, their mutual influences, and context in broader changing fashions for pantomime through the 19th century.)

1894-5 was the season for Santa Claus. The plot mixed Maid Marion, Robin Hood, the story of the Babes in the Wood, a dog called Tatters (a collie specifically, played by a Mr Charles Lauri), Queen Mab, and Santa Claus himself. The Bury & Norwich Post, 22 January 1895, tells us that William Rignold, who played him, was "admirably cheery" and delivered his speeches suitably "ore rotundo". Musically, it looks as though it was a similar hotchpotch, albeit one with a noticeable tendency towards certain ‘respectable’ styles (a kind of Arthur Sullivan-lite operetta one in particular). 

Sample orchestral part from MS Mus. 1716/65/1, orchestral packet 3

The manuscripts from the archive are fascinating for many reasons, but especially as testaments to a pragmatic and ephemeral world of music making – and a glimpse at the characters of the pit musicians themselves. (The most I could find about them was a brief mention of the "competent orchestra" in the Globe, 27 December 1894.)

Parts were clearly reused across different pantomimes, with various passages sometimes cut, sometimes reinstated; there are pieces of printed music by other composers (Mendelssohn at one point) that have been inserted and similarly reshaped as required.

There are also several doodles. The viola player in 'no.50 D', for example, has written 'sausage roll' and then a cryptic musical cipher!

Viola part for the song ‘Queen of the Night’, MS Mus. 1716/65/1,

The euphonium player for 'no.18' fancies himself a latter day van Dyck, and references the popular music hall song of the time "Where did you get that hat?"

Euphonium part, MS Mus 1716/65/1, orchestral packet 2 

And then there is one of the second violins in 'no.21', who has left us a pencil sketch of some kind of bird. (I'd like to think it might be a turkey, but a colleague suggested it could be a goose in a bonnet ... !)

Second violin part part, MS Mus 1716/65/1, orchestral packet 2 

The ephemeral nature of this music and the kinds of productions it was used for has often left us with a sketchy and selective record of music for pantomime (and theatre productions more generally). In some cases this may not matter, but the insight into life and working practices that the surviving sources provide is fascinating. A case in point is a letter from Oscar Barrett detailing his vision for the choreography for a particular dance. A telling amendment to the score doubles the number of dancing robins for that scene from 12 to 24.

Chris Scobie - Rare Books & Music Reference Service

Notes on resources:

• The Drury Lane Theatre Archive is digitised as part of the British Theatre, Music, and the Arts: High and Popular Culture module in Nineteenth Century Collections Online - a subscription database, but freely accessible in the British Library Reading Rooms

• Newspaper content in this article was found via The British Newspaper Archive - also subscription based, but freely available in the British Library Reading Rooms

• The Lord Chamberlain's Plays  contain scripts (although not music) for plays submitted to the Lord Chamberlain for licensing between 1824 and 1968 

• A useful overview of 19th century pantomime can be found in Jeffrey Richards, The Golden Age of Pantomime: slapstick, subversion and spectacle in Victorian England, (London, 2010). British Library YC.2015.a.3620. ; and a collection of critical essays on the subject in Jim Davis (ed.), Victorian Pantomime, (Basingstoke, 2010). YC.2012.a.4426. 

Among the many Benjamin Britten works within the British Library’s collection of music manuscripts are the autograph vocal parts for one of his earliest choral works, A Boy Was Born.

Available to browse in full on the Digitised Manuscripts website, A Boy was Born consists of a series of choral variations with festive subjects. The first is a dialogue between Mary and Jesus, the second tells of the massacre of the innocents, whilst the third sets the text "Jesu as Thou art our saviour". The next concerns the three kings, before moving onto a setting of Rossetti's "In the Bleak Midwinter" and concluding with a return to the original theme.

Britten composed this work during his studies at the Royal College of Music. It proved to be the last project he completed at the College, and these parts date from the same period, 1932-33. However, it was not until over a year later on 17 December 1934 that it received its first public performance.  This took place at the Mercury Theatre under the baton of Iris Lemare.

Title-page (with composer’s signature) from the boys’ part of A Boy Was Born, British Library Add MS 59798, folio 1 recto

This and the following images from Add MS 59798 are made available by kind permission of The Britten Estate Ltd and of Chester Music Ltd.

All publishing rights exercised.

Britten was not at all happy with the first performance. In his diary entry for 17 December, he reflected that it was ‘mostly very poor I’m afraid’, and added that he left immediately afterwards, ‘not being able to stand the strain.’ But to his surprise, A Boy Was Born immediately proved to be popular with audiences and performers alike.

In some respects, Britten's reaction was unsurprising, given that he was already known as a perfectionist even at this early stage in his career. Interestingly, the British Library’s set of parts provides further evidence of his attention to detail and tendency to revise: many of the pages feature numerous paste-downs where alterations have been made during the copying process. Although these could have been corrections of simple errors, it is significant that Britten mentions making ‘odd alterations’ to the piece with his teacher Frank Bridge in a diary entry for 11 May, 1933. Perhaps these amendments result from compositional revisions rather than from proof-reading?

Paste-down corrections (third stave from the bottom) in Variation 1 (boys’ part), Add MS 59798, folio 1 verso 

However, the general accuracy and legibility of the parts indicates that Britten intended them for performance rather than a simple run-through. The occasion was probably an earlier broadcast performance on the BBC, which was given in February. After a rehearsal at the BBC, the composer mentioned in his diary that he was impressed by the choir’s first reading: ‘They sang it excellently considering they were sight-reading it from M.S. parts (copied at 5.30 in morning!). I am very pleased & bucked.’

An example of Britten’s clear copying in the Soprano 1 part of ‘Herod’, Add MS 59798, folio 11 verso

Perhaps most intriguing is Britten’s admission that he had found the final variation extremely difficult to complete. Both in his diary and letters he mentions his difficulties in constructing the work’s finale, and the autograph score shows many revisions and crossings out. Yet in the parts, the final movement is the only one which has no corrections at all, either as paste-downs or in pencil.

The last page of the final movement, ‘Noel’ (alto part), Add MS 59798, folio 34 verso

It is possible that Britten’s earlier agonising over this movement simply meant that he took greater care when copying the parts, or maybe that the notes were simply more present in his mind. On the other hand, it may shed some light on the young composer’s mode of working – perhaps this movement’s difficult inception meant that he felt it needed less attention and revision later on. Whatever the answers to these questions, this set of parts provide a fascinating record of one of Benjamin Britten’s earliest successes and given an insight into his working methods at the start of his career.

Isobel Clarke

Doctoral student, Royal College of Music, and PhD placement student, British Library Music Collections

We are delighted to announce that a fascinating album has recently been added to the British Library's Music Collections, thanks to the diligent work of the Arts Council's Acceptance in Lieu scheme.

The album was compiled by Vincent Novello (1781-1861), organist and founder of the Novello music publishing house. Comprising 78 leaves, it is bound in leather with a gold-tooled harp crest on the front board and an elegant metal clasp.  It is featured in the Cultural Gift Scheme and Acceptance in lieu annual report 2015/16 (see page 70), and has now been formally added to the British Library's extensive collection of music manuscripts.

The recently-acquired Novello Album, British Library shelfmark MS Mus. 1816

The album contains autograph manuscripts by Liszt (58 bars from his Grand Galop Chromatique), Paganini (6 bars marked presto), Rossini (3 bars), Hummel (10 bars) and Mendelssohn (34 bars for an organ piece), Donizetti, as well as fragments by Beethoven, Mozart and Haydn. It also contains autographs of other performers, actors and artists, as well as literary figures such as Charles Dickens.

Leaf containing  a fragment of music in Mozart's own hand, together with a description by Vincent Novello

Vincent Novello was a major figure in London musical life in the first half of the 19th century and was well connected socially and professionally to key figures in the arts. The contents of the album reflects the importance of Novello and charts a fascinating period of British musical history. Born to an Italian family, he settled in England when he was 16 and devoted the rest of his life to furthering the cause of musical life and education in Britain. Novello’s interest in the music of previous generations meant that he built up a significant collection of music manuscripts from previous centuries. His work as an editor and publisher led to the formation of the company Novello & Co, which still exists today. Novello began compiling the album in 1829 when he and his wife journeyed to Austria to meet Mozart’s widow, Constanze, and son in Salzburg. Constanze contributed to the album herself, as did their youngest son Franz Xaver Wolfgang Mozart (known as Wolfgang Amadeus Jr), with a choral piece of his own, Die Nacht.

The album remained in the Novello family until it was consigned to auction in 1951 where it was bought by Novello & Co. Ltd. Novello & Co. was acquired by the Granada Group in 1970 and in 1989, Granada consigned the album and other Novello manuscripts for sale at auction where it was bought by the late Sir Charles Mackerras, the prominent conductor.

 

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart died 225 years today on 5 December 1791.

To mark the occasion, we’re showcasing a very unusual item from our extensive music holdings.

Found within a miscellaneous collection of letters, locks of hair, and photographs of notable musicians, is a single leaf, neatly preserved in a polyester sleeve.

Egerton MS 3097 B, folio 11: leaf gathered from Mozart’s grave on 6 April 1890

This leaf is the smallest item in our collection of music manuscripts. A note preserved with it suggests it was gathered from Mozart’s grave by one Frederick George Edwards during a trip to Vienna in  April 1890. 

Description of the leaf in Egerton MS 3097 B, folio 11

Edwards was organist of the Surrey Chapel, moving to the newly-built Christ Church, Westminster Bridge, in 1876. He transferred to St John’s Wood Presbyterian Church in 1881, where he remained as organist until 1905. He was also a notable music historian. Besides books on hymn tunes and Mendelssohn’s Elijah, he wrote articles on cathedrals and the English Bach revival for the Musical Times, some 21 entries on 19th-century musical figures for the Dictionary of National Biography, and further articles for the second edition of Grove’s Dictionary. The leaf forms part of a 13-volume collection of his papers held at the British Library.

Mozart died just before 1am on 5 December 1791. The cause of his death was registered as ‘hitziges Friesel Fieber’ or severe miliary fever (‘miliary’ referring to a rash resembling millet-seeds). It was later diagnosed as ‘rheumatische Entzündungsfieber’ (rheumatic inflammatory fever).

The common belief that Mozart was buried in a pauper’s grave appears to be without foundation. Instead, in accordance with Viennese custom, he is thought to have been buried in a common grave at the St Marx cemetery outside the city of Vienna two days after his death. The term referred to an individual rather than a mass grave, belonging to a non-aristocratic citizen. The precise location of the grave is unknown.

The funeral arrangements were made by Mozart’s friend and patron Baron Gottfried van Swieten. The tale of stormy and snowy weather conditions also now appears to be false. In fact, the day was thought to have been calm and mild.