Warlock Dowland and Segovia-libre

(First published in Classical Guitar, May, June and July 2011)

Warlock, Dowland and Segovia Part 1: Dowland Restored Allan Clive Jones

In 1927, at a concert in London, Lon don, Segovia performed two t wo Dowland galliards. galliards . Dowland’s solo lute music musi c was almost unknown at this th is time. Where did Segovia get these pieces from? The answer is not straightforward, but Peter Warlock, who transcribed several pieces from manuscript tablatures in the 1920s, played a part. These three articles tells the story, and resolve a puzzle over one of the Dowland pieces in Segovia’s repertoire. rep ertoire.

Segovia’s performance of two Dowland pieces in London on 18 May 1927 was a remarkable event in the history of Dowland’s music. It was probably the first time any of Dowland’s solo lute music had been performed in the modern era to t o a substantial audience, by a performer of high professional standing. In these three articles I want to look at the access Segovia Segovia had to Dowland’s music at this early part of his international career. It would be wrong to suggest that Dowland was ever a large part of Segovia’s repertoire. To the best of my knowledge, he recorded only three Dowland pieces, and reviews of his London and Paris concerts between the wars rarely mention Dowland.

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However, there is good reason to believe that in the 1920s Segovia knew much more of Dowland’s music than he chose to perform, as I hope to show in these articles. What is more, he knew this music at a time when even specialist musicologists hardly knew it, let alone guitarists. The striking feature of Segovia’s adoption of Dowland’s music is therefore not the t he amount he played, but the early date at which he adopted it, and the fact that he did not make more use of it. it . A crucial figure in the revival of interest in Dowland was the British composer, writer and musicologogist Peter Warlock, or, to give him is real name (which I shall use from now on), Philip Heseltine. Heseltine is, in fact, the focus of my story, rather than Segovia. As these articles show, he was a pioneering – but not unique – transcriber of Dowland’s instrumental music, and, on his own account, introduced Segovia Segovia to it. i t. On this latter point, though, Heseltine’s word should not be accepted unquestioningly, unquestioningly, as he was not Segovia’s only source of Dowland.

WARLOCK, DOWLAND AND SEGOVIA, PART 1

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An intriguing puzzle surrounds one of the t he Dowland pieces in Segovia’s repertoire. On recordings it was named incorrectly as a galliard; and its absence from Dowland’s lute oeuvre has cast doubt on whether it was by Dowland at all. Part 3 of this series will

present the solution to this puzzle. 1920s Dowland revival

During Dowland’s lifetime, four books of his songs were published. Thanks to these publications some of his songs retained a currency through through the following centuries. Shorn of their lute parts, they were performed as four-part unaccompanied ‘madrigals’ ‘madrigals’ (though technically they were not madrigals). A few Victorian editors produced anthologies of lute-songs, but they were poor editions, often with rewritten accompaniments. accompaniments. As for Dowland’s instrumental music, it was hardly known in the centuries after his death, although his reputation as a lutenist and composer for the instrument was familiar to music historians. Apart from a few it ems, Dowland’s lute pieces were not published in his lifetime, and the bulk of them survived as manuscript tablatures in museums, libraries, and private collections. Little attention was paid to these pieces until the late nineteenth century, century, and the pioneering work of musician and instrument-builder Arnold Dolmetsch. However, the major revival in Dowland’s fortunes, and those of the other lutentists of his era, began in the 1920s, thanks largely to two people, Canon Edmund Horace Fellowes and Philip Heseltine. In 1921, the first of Fellowes’s modern editions of English lutenists’ songs, The English School of Lutenist Lut enist Songwriters, was published. In his early editions, Fellowes

gave a fairly accurate keyboard version of the lute parts, together with elaborated versions of the lute parts devised by himself. However, and remarkably for the period, he also included lute tablatures. In later publications he abandoned these. Writing about Fellowes’s first volume of songs in The Musical Times, Heseltine took Fellowes to task for amending the original lute accompaniments in his elaborated 2

keyboard versions. Perversely, elsewhere in his review, Heseltine rebuked Fellowes for not adapting the original barring to modern conventions. He wrote: ‘The bar in Elizabethan times had none of the rhythmic or accentual significance with which it was subsequently invested. It was used in the song-books chiefly as a convenient method of enabling singer and accompanist to keep together – in the virginal books to help the left hand know what the right hand was doing. In the separate part-books, vocal and instrumental, bars rarely occur at all. It is therefore merely pedantic to retain this original irregular and largely arbitrary system of barring in a modern reprint which should be the means of bringing these songs not only to the libraries of professional musicians and musical institutions, but into the hands of every English speaking amateur who ever buys or sings a good song; for music depends for real popularity upon the great body of amateurs rather than upon the comparatively small body of professional musicians. And to replace WARLOCK, DOWLAND AND SEGOVIA, PART 1

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the old system of irregular barring by a new one is a most unnecessary procedure, seeing that every Elizabethan song can be divided into bars of equal length (changes from duple to triple time being invariably marked in the original editions). This regularity is a great convenience to the reader, and detracts nothing from the music so long as it is phrased 3

intelligently and not accented by the bar.’

Heseltine thus thought that the key to reviving this old music was to present it in a form accessible to the non-specialist. One way to do t his was to use modern notational conventions. He scorned ‘pedantry’, seeing no point reproducing the tablature, which hardly anyone would have understood. Furthermore, he thought that Fellowes’s inclusion of elaborated versions of the lute accompaniments would suggest that Dowland’s original versions were inadequate or inept. For Heseltine, a crucial tenet was that the compositions themselves required no improvement. Writing to a friend in 1921, he spoke of the body of music from this period as ‘the culmination of the most 4

perfect – technically as well as aesthetically – periods music has ever known.’ As far as Heseltine was concerned, this early music was not a mere antiquarian curiosity. It was interesting not because it was a precursor of what came later, but because it had its own perfection. It was as worthy of respect as any later music – more so in some regards, given Heseltine’s jaundiced view of much contemporary music of his own time.

Figure 1

Philip Heseltine (Peter Warlock), 1894–1930

Heseltine’s dissatisfaction with Fellowes’s editorial methods prompted him to begin preparing his own editions of the work of the English lutenists, starting with the song


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collections, and eventually, in the second half of the 1920s, arriving at Dowland’s lute pieces. However, although Fellowes was the spur, Heseltine had been contemplating the editing of old music, on and off, for several years. Heseltine’s discovery of early music

Philip Heseltine was born in October 1894, making him just under two years younger than Segovia. His first few years were spent in London. At around the age of nine t he family moved to Abermule in Wales. Wales was to be an occasional retreat for 5

Heseltine throughout his life. At Eton, Heseltine’s musical talent was encouraged by a sympathetic piano teacher, although he never became a proficient pianist. In his mid-teens he developed a passion for the music of Delius, and began a correspondence with the composer that lasted for the rest of his life. Delius, in fact, became a mentor to Heseltine. After Eton, in 1911, he enrolled at the Cologne Conservatoire to study the piano, but was deterred by the emphasis on technique. He soon abandoned his studies there, and in October 1913 went up to Oxford University to study Classics. He abandoned this after a year, and in 1914 enrolled at University College, London, to study English, philosophy and psychology. This too he abandoned after a few months, and the rest of his short life consisted of an unsettled mixture of composition, journalism, musicology and dissipation. In 1915, after a few months as music critic for the Daily Mail (how times have changed), he was profoundly affected by his discovery of early

English keyboard music by Byrd, Gibbons, Tomkins and Farnaby. He conceived the idea of editing this music for publication in modern editions. This plan came to nothing. In 1917, whilst dodging call-up for the First World War in Ireland, he came across the William Ballet Lute Book in the library of Trinity College, Dublin. He resolved to transcribe it, but once again this plan came to nothing.

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When Heseltine finally buckled down to editing early music, with t he appearance of the first of Fellowes’s editions of lute songs 1921, he was again living at the family home in Wales, having retreated there from London almost penniless. He was to remain in Wales for three years, working industriously and moderating his drinking. During this three-year period he edited over 300 lute-songs. Some of these appeared 7

in his ‘English Ayres’ series of song books, which began to appear in 1922. He also worked on a short book The English Ayre, published in 1926. This is still a useful, readable and lucid introduction to the lute and the songs of Danyel, Dowland, Robert Jones, Tobias Hume, Campion, Rosseter, and several others. Heseltine’s prodigious transcribing of the lute parts of these songs is all the more remarkable given that he was not himself a player. In reply to a correspondent who wrote for advice about ways of performing lute songs, Heseltine wrote in 1928: WARLOCK, DOWLAND AND SEGOVIA, PART 1

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‘I have always understood that the lute is an exceedingly difficult instrument to master. I only know one lutenist [probably Diana Poulton, 1903–95], and she is very far from accomplished after years of practice; and I am told that Dr Fellowes’s performances on the lute are quite as funny as Grock’s on the fiddle. The contrapuntal texture of many of the Elizabethans – such as Dowland and Danyel – cannot be easy on any plucked instrument [...] To my mind an infinitely better effect [then trying to use a lute] is obtained with far less 8

trouble by playing these lute parts on a harpsichord, spinet or virginals...’

Following his spell in Wales, Heseltine moved back to the London area in 1925, finding a house in Eynsford, Kent. From this period comes his famous Capriol Suite, as well as numerous songs, a book on Gesualdo, and transcriptions of many of Dowland’s solo lute pieces. The second half of the 1920s, when Heseltine was working on Dowland’s instrumental works, was also the period when Segovia gave his first UK concerts. His London debut was on 7 December 1926, when he performed at the Aeolian Hall (on Bond Street). He performed in London again on 29 J anuary 1927 at the Wigmore Hall. In view of subsequent developments, it is likely that Heseltine attended one or both of these Segovia concerts. The extent to which the British musical world was becoming aware of the Elizabethan and Jacobean lutenists is possibly indicated in The Times’s review of Segovia’s 29 January concert: ‘...we venture to call Mr Segovia’s

attention, if it has not already been done, to the music of our English lutenists.’

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Transcribing Dowland’s lute works

February 1927 found Heseltine busy in the Cambridge University Library, consulting manuscripts of Dowland’s solo lute music. Less than two weeks later, on 2 March 1927, he delivered a selection of fifteen keyboard transcriptions of lute solos to his 10

publisher. These transcriptions were published in 1927 under the title The Lute 11

Music of John Dowland . The title page describes the contents as ‘Literally

transcribed from the original tablature notation, and edited for Piano or Harpsichord by Peter Warlock’. Given Heseltine’s attitude to Fellowes’s work, it is easy to see why he should make such a point of the fidelity of his transcriptions. The lutenist and Dowland scholar Diana Poulton heard Heseltine play one of his transcriptions when she was around 24 years old. She wrote: ‘I had visited [Heseltine] in Eynsford, Kent, where he was living at the time, in September 1927, and I can still remember his playing me “Forlorn Hope” which he had just finished 12

transcribing; possibly it was the first time it had been played in three hundred years.’

On 18 May 1927, Segovia performed again in London. This was the concert, mentioned at the start of this article, where he played two unspecified galliards by


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Dowland. Segovia’s performance was precisely at the time that Heseltine was shepherding his edition of Dowland lute solos through publication. Had Heseltine therefore supplied Segovia with some of his transcriptions? It is likely that he had. The evidence comes from an article Heseltine published in the Musical Times in 14

August 1927. Entitled ‘More light on John Dowland’, the article begins by casting doubt on an earlier article by Dr W. H. Grattan Flood which had claimed that Dowland was Irish.

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Heseltine went on in his article to deplore the musical world’s ignorance of Dowland’s instrumental works, and proceeded to discuss many of Dowland’s lute works. In several cases, Heseltine gave extracts from them in keyboard notation, together with a short discussion of their particular merits, as shown in Figure 2. Among the works Heseltine mentioned was Forlorn Hope, showing that he must have transcribed it at least a few months before Poulton’s visit is September 1927. At the conclusion of his article Heseltine wrote: ‘The pianoforte, however, is but a poor substitute for the lute itself, and those who know what amazing variety and beauty of tone that great artist Señor Segovia can produce from the Spanish guitar will realise that the lute (which has the same technique as the guitar) was no mean instrument and the old lutenists no mean performers. It has been my privilege to introduce the music discussed in this article to Señor Segovia, and we may look forward to some memorable performances of it at his hands in the near future. Most assuredly our English lute music could not be given back to the world under more favourable auspices.’

Evidently Heseltine was hoping, and possibly expecting, that Dowland’s music would soon become a significant part of Segovia’s repertoire, and through Segovia gain the esteem it deserved. It is very likely that Heseltine would have supplied Segovia with many transcriptions, as there is good evidence his generosity where his transcriptions 16

were concerned. He clearly admired Segovia’s way with the music. Writing to a friend in November 1927, he said: ‘Most of the year I have spent transcribing and editing some of the magnificent music that has come down to us from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries – songs by the contemporaries of Shakespeare, the wonderful lute-music of John Dowland which I have transcribed for the piano (though that fine artist Segovia plays it wonderfully on his Spanish guitar),...’

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Figure 2

A page from Heseltine’s article ‘More light on John Dowland’ in The

Musical Times, August 1927.

If we take Heseltine’s word that the pieces mentioned in his ‘More light on John Dowland’ article were introduced personally to Segovia, then this amounted to twenty-six items (more, if we count a few folk-song arrangements). Among these were such gems as Digorie Piper’s Galliard , The Earl of Essex Galliard , Farewell, Forlorn Hope, Melancholy Galliard , My Lady Hunsdon’s Puffe, and Queen 18

Elizabeth’s Galliard .

The extracts above, and the fact that Segovia played a couple of Dowland pieces in London in May 1927, look like convincing evidence that Segovia got his Dowland pieces from Heseltine. Unfortunately, matters are not that simple. At some point in his career, Segovia adopted a piece which he described as a ‘Galliard by Dowland’ , and 19

which he recorded in 1944, 1956 and 1969. The first four bars of the piece are shown in Example 1.


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Example 1

First four bars of piece described as a Dowland ‘galliard’ by Segovia

In the liner notes for a CD reissue of one of Segovia’s recordings of this piece, Graham Wade says it is: ‘... something of an enigma. With its time signature of four beats in the bar it is not a galliard (a dance with three to the bar) ... and, moreover, it is not possible to locate this item among Dowland’s output. Thus the piece appears to be a pastiche whose composer is 20

unknown.’

Actually this piece is not a pastiche, although there is something artificial about it. Segovia certainly did not get it from Heseltine, who would have scorned it – as will become clear in Part 3. Furthermore, Segovia could, in principle, have known this piece before his path crossed Heseltine’s. In Part 3 I will explain what this piece is, and where it comes from. Other Dowland items recorded by Segovia, and therefore presumably drawn from his concert repertoire, might well have been derived from Heseltine’s transcriptions. One was Digorie Piper’s Galliard (the instrumental version of the song If my Complaints). Segovia’s recordings of it do not correspond to any of the known versions, but to my ears several of the figurations are derived from the song accompaniment – for which Heseltine would be the most obvious source. Another Dowland piece recorded by Segovia, albeit late in his career, was the Melancholy Galliard , which Heseltine 21

transcribed and published in 1927. I am not aware of any other items by Dowland having been recorded by Segovia. As mentioned at the start of this article, Segovia’s adoption of Dowland was fairly limited, and probably less than Heseltine hoped for. Heseltine’s most r adical influence on the guitar world came a generation later, when the young Julian Bream happened upon the 1927 volume of Dowland lute transcriptions and immediately recognised its 22

significance. Sadly, by this time Heseltine had been dead for twenty years. In the next article of this series I will look more closely at Warlock’s editorial policy regarding Dowland’s lute music. Acknowledgement

I am grateful to Barry Smith, editor of The Collected Letters of Peter Warlock (Boydell Press, 2005) for permission to quote from Heseltine’s letters. WARLOCK, DOWLAND AND SEGOVIA, PART 1

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Notes

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My series of articles ‘The Judgement of Paris’, published in Classical Guitar from August to

December 1998, looked at Segovia’s inter-war Paris concerts and some of his London concerts. 2

The Musical Times, 1 July, 1922, p. 478.

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The Musical Times, 1 July, 1922, p. 479.

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Heseltine to Fritz Hart, 15 November 1921, quoted in Barry Smith, Peter Warlock: the Life of Philip

Heseltine, Oxford University Press, p.195. 5

Readers outside the UK might not be aware that Eton is one of the UK’s most famous, all-male private

schools. It is notable for the very large number of its alumni who have held high office in public life. 6

Barry Smith, Peter Warlock: the Life of Philip Heseltine, Oxford University Press, p.125.

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The series English Ayres was initially published by Enoch, from 1922–25. The series was taken over

by Oxford University Press. 8

Letter from Heseltine to Arnold Dowbiggin, 3 January 1928, reproduced in Barry Smith (ed.) The

Collected Letters of Peter Warlock , vol IV, 1922–30, Boydell Press, 2005, p. 185. The editor of these

letters, Barry Smith, surmises that the female lutenist referred to by Heseltine is Diana Poulton, who later became highly accomplished. Heseltine’s reference to ‘Grock’ in the letter is the celebrated Swiss clown who, according to Barr y Smith, could play fourteen instruments including a miniature violin. 9

The Times, 31 January 1927, p. 10.

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Barry Smith, Peter Warlock: the Life of Philip Heseltine, Oxford University Press, p.246.

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The following are the pieces in Heseltine’s edition The Lute Music of John Dowland , published in

1927 as edited by Peter Warlock. The ‘P ’ numbers after each item refer to their number in Diana Poulton and Basil Lam’s edition The Collected Lute Music of John Dowland , 3rd edition, Faber, 1981. Dowland’s Adew (P13, where it is titled Resolution); Fantasia (P1a); Farewell (P3); Forlorn Hope

(P2); The Lady Rich her Galliard (P43a); Melancholy Galliard (P25); Mrs Vauxe’s Gigge (P57); Mrs White’s Nothinge (P56); My Lady Hunsdon’s Puffe (P54); My Lord Chamberlaine his Galliard (P37); Orlando Sleepeth (P61); Queen Elizabeth’s Galliard (P41); The Shoemaker’s Wife (P58); An Unnamed Piece (P49); An Unnamed Piece (P51). 12

Diana Poulton, John Dowland , second edition, Faber, 1982, p. 446.


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The review in The Times, 20 May 1927, p. 12, refers simply to ‘Two galliards by the English John

Dowland’, and the concert programme for the event, which survives at the Wigmore Hall in London, gives no further information. 14

Philip Heseltine, ‘More light on John Dowland’, Musical Times, August 1927, pp. 689–691.

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Dr W. H. Grattan Flood, ‘New light on late Tudor composers: John Dowland’, Musical Times, June

1927, pp. 504–505. 16

In her appreciation of Diana Poulton, Donna Curry writes that Heseltine gave Poulton copies of

approximately 300 lute songs that he and a colleague hard transcribed. (Donna Curry, ‘Diana Poulton: an Appreciation of her Life’, LSA Quarterly, vol. XXXI, February 1996, p. 8.) This article is available online at http://www.cs.dartmouth.edu/~lsa/publications/Q/1996/LSAQ31-07-1996-PoultonCurry.pdf. It is provides an interesting counterpoint to Heseltine’s ungenerous view of the youthful Poulton’s abilities quoted earlier. 17

Heseltine to Paul Ladmirault, 12 November 1927, quoted in Barry Smith, Peter Warlock: the Life of

Philip Heseltine, Oxford University Press, p.874. 18

The items referred to in Heseltine’s ‘More light on John Dowland’ article in the Musical Times,

August 1927 are listed here. On Heseltine’s account, these are the piece he introduced to Segovia. T he ‘P’ numbers after each item is the number in Diana P oulton and Basil Lam, The Collected Lute Music of John Dowland , 3rd edition, Faber, 1981. Asterisked items appear in Heseltine’s The Lute Music of John Dowland (1927), published as edited by Warlock. Aloe (P68), (Heseltine gives no title for this,

and refers to it simply as ‘Variations on a short theme of folk-song character’); Digorie Piper’s Galliard (instrumental version of song ‘If My Complaints’) (P19); Piper’s Pavan (P8); The Earl of Derby’s Galliard (P44), Earl of Essex Galliard (instrumental version of Can She Excuse) (P42, P42a); Farewell* (P3); Forlorn Hope* (P2), Henry Noel’s Galliard (also known as Mignarda) (P34); King of Denmark’s Galliard (P40); Lady Rich’s Galliard * (P43a); The Lord Chamberlain’s Galliard (for two

to play upon one lute)* (P37); Melancholy Galliard * (P25); Mistress Winter’s Jumpe (P55); Mr Bucton’s Galliard (also called Sir Robert Sidney’s Galliard and Viscount Lisle’s Galliard ) (P38); John Langton’s Galliard (P33); John Langton’s Pavan (P14, P14a); Mr Knight’s Galliard (P36); Mrs Vauxes Gigge* (P57); Mrs White’s Nothinge* (P56); My Lady Hunsdon’s Puffe* (P54); Orlando Sleepeth* (P61); Queen Elizabeth’s Galliard * (P41); Sir John Smith his Almaine (P47); Solus cum Sola (P10); The Shoemaker’s Wife* (P58); Untitled Piece (not in Poulton). 19

In the 1944 recording, the ‘Galliard’ in question is appended to three short Purcell pieces. It has

been reissued on CD on ‘Andrés Segovia: the 1944 American Recordings’, Naxos, 8.111087. In the 1956 recoding it is paired with Digorie Piper’s Galliard . These two items have been reissued on the CD ‘Andrés Segovia: 1950s American Recordings, volume 4’, Naxos, 8.111092. The 1 969 recording WARLOCK, DOWLAND AND SEGOVIA, PART 1

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coupled it again with the adaptation of Digorie Piper’s Galliard (described as ‘song’ in the CD reissue). This recording session also included Dowland’s Melancholy Galliard . The 1969 recordings have been reissued on ‘Andres Segovia: a Centenary Celebration’, Disc 1, MCA Classics, MCAD4 11124. 20

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Liner notes to ‘Andrés Segovia: 1950s American Recordings, volume 4’, Naxos, 8.111092. Digorie Piper’s Galliard was recorded, as mentioned earlier, in 1956, and is on ‘Andrés Segovia:

1950s American Recordings, volume 4’, Naxos, 8.111092. Segovia recorded it again in 1969, coupled with the ‘non-galliard galliard’ referred to in the text. Also in 1969 Segovia recorded Dowland’s Melancholy Galliard . These 1969 Dowland recordings are on ‘Andres Segovia: a Centenary

Celebration’, Disc 1, MCA Classics, MCAD4 11124. 22

The story of Bream’s encounter with Dowland, via the Heseltine/Warlock edition of fifteen lute

solos The Lute Music of John Dowland , is told in Paul Balmer’s DVD Julian Bream: My Life in Music, Music on Earth Productions.


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Warlock, Dowland and Segovia Part 2: Warlock the editor Allan Clive Jones

In Part 1 we saw that Philip Heseltine (who often used the pseudonym Peter Warlock) was prompted to transcribe the music of the Elizabethan and Jacobean lutenists out of frustration with the editorial practices of earlier editors, notably Canon E. H. Fellowes, whose volumes The English School of Lutenist Songwriters began to appear in 1921. Heseltine says, in an article quoted in Part 1, that he introduced Segovia to Dowland’s lute music. In this article I want to look at Heseltine’s philosophy of transcription. As outlined in Part 1, this was based on the following principles: 1

The music needed to be made accessible to amateur performers, even if that meant adopting modern conventions of notation.

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The compositions themselves, however, required no ‘improvement’.

I want to investigate how well these principles worked in practice. I will do this by looking at a small case study – one of Heseltine’s solo lute transcriptions from his 1927 volume of fifteen Dowland lute pieces The Lute Music of John Dowland . I have chosen a piece that strikes me as particularly interesting from the point of view of editorial policy. A facsimile of Heseltine’s keyboard transcription of the piece is shown in Example 1.

DOWLAND, WARLOCK AND SEGOVIA, PART 2

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Example 1

Dowland lute solo, transcribed by Heseltine

In Example 1 I have added bar numbers, following the common convention of counting as bar 1 the first full bar of music. Although this piece is not well known, a version of it appears in Frederick Noad’s popular anthology The Renaissance Guitar , 1 under the title ‘Air’. It also appears in the Collected Lute Music of John Dowland ,

edited by Diana Poulton and Basil Lam, where it is entitled ‘An Almain’.

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To make the discussion easier to follow, I have made a guitar version from Heseltine’s transcription, shown in Example 2. Here I have transposed the lute part down a minor third, as usual when adapting renaissance lute music to the guitar. I have not made any other adaptation for the guitar. For the moment I simply want to retain the notes that Heseltine has transcribed, and his barring. The original manuscript source does not follow modern barring conventions. This point needs to be borne in mind during the following discussion.


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Example 2

A guitar version of Example 1

Now, among the several curious features of this piece is its length, 17 bars. The first ‘half’ of the piece is regular enough, being eight bars long. The second part, though, beginning on the fourth beat of bar 8, is nine bars long. Has something gone adrift? Also, can bar 12 really be right? Anyone playing the piece is likely to feel that the chord lasts too long. Heseltine, though, presumably thought this was plausible. Heseltine does not mention in his edition that there is actually a problem with the manuscript source, which is not in Dowland’s hand. As mentioned in Part 1, music of this period was not barred according to modern conventions, and part of the task of the editor is deciding where the upbeats and downbeats fall, so that ‘modern’ bar lines can be inserted, and parsing the lute notes into independent ‘voices’ – in addition to deciding on durations of notes in cases where this is implicit rather than explicit. From bar 12 to the end of this piece, in terms of modern barring principles, the note values do not add up. An extra beat is required if the fi nal chord of the piece is to land 3

on the first beat of the last bar. Heseltine’s solution is to amend the chord shown in bar 12 of his transcription. In the manuscript, this chord is one beat shorter. By extending the chord by a beat, Heseltine makes it a last a whole bar. However, he says nothing about this modification in his edition. Other editors have taken a different approach. Diana Poulton and Basil Lam, in their Collected Lute Music of John Dowland , adopt a solution suggested by lutenist Ian

Harwood, which entails putting the extra beat elsewhere. Poulton and Lam, unlike Heselting, explain what they have done. In Example 3 I have adapted Heseltine’s transcription to incorporate the Poulton/Lam/Harwood solution.


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Example 3 Example 2 adjusted to show the solution adopted by Poulton, Lam and Harwood Essentially the Poulton/Lam/Harwood solution is to preserve in bar 12 the music of the original manuscript, but to create an extra beat in bar 13. Comparing bar 13 in the two versions, you can see that in Example 3 the chord on the third beat is twice the length of the equivalent chord in Example 2, where it falls on the fourth beat. The chord’s bottom note in Example 2 (F sharp) has been detached from the chord in Example 3, and used to mark the fourth beat of the bar. Interestingly, by retaining the length of the chord in bar 12 as given in the manuscript, the Poulton/Lam/Harwood solution in Example 3 turns the F sharp at the end of bar 12 into an upbeat to bar 13. This matches the phrase structure of the preceding couple of phrases. In Heseltine’s version there is no upbeat to bar 13. Frederick Noad, in The Renaissance Guitar , sticks more closely to the original and ducks out of providing a solution to the missing beat, although it is not clear whether this is an oversight ot intentional. Once again, I have adapted Heseltine’s transcription 4

to show this version (Example 4). Noad’s version, however, satisfyingly emphasizes the sequence of descending thirds in bars 13, 14 and 15, which I have marked in Example 4. In this version bars 13, 14 and 14 certainly make much more musical sense than in the other versions. The problem of the missing beat, though, is now transferred to bar 16, which in my ancient edition is only 3 beat long.

Example 4 As barred by Noad, emphasising the sequence of descending thirds


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It is not difficult to see how bar 16 of Example 4 could be given an extra beat. The simplest option is probably to prolong the first two notes of the bar, as shown in 5

Example 5. Paul O’Dette plays something like this (to my ears) in his recording. At his brisk tempo, the prolonged notes do not draw attention to themselves.

Example 5 Amendment to Example 4 to rectify the beats in bar 16. For lesser mortals, though, playing the piece at a moderate pace exposes only too clearly the lack of musical interest in the first half of bar 16 in Example 5. One feels the music marking time simply to fill up the bar, which, of course, is precisely the purpose of the prolongations. Now, my reason for discussing this piece is not so much to draw attention to it, and its several versions, but to use it as an opportunity to reflect on Heseltine’s philosophy of musical editing. Here are some more remarks by Heseltine on the preparation of old music for the modern reader. ‘There is no advantage in adhering to the obsolete conventions of Elizabethan notation which are likely to confuse the ordinary reader of today; but where notes and texts are concerned, nothing should be added to or detracted from what the composer actually 6

wrote.’

‘Dowland [...] was one of the most technically proficient as well as one of the most inspired song-writers the world has, ever seen, and no one who has any regard for purity of style – to say nothing of a sympathetic understanding of the music itself – would wish to add to or detract anything from what he has written.’

7

Heseltine here shows great respect for Dowland, and deplores the ‘corrections’ that he considered other editors to have indulged in. However, the question arises of whether, given the unreliability of some old manuscripts, correcting the text is entirely separable from fixing the composition. In the piece under discussion, there appears to be something amiss with the manuscript, but there is no way of creating a plausible version without engaging in re-composition. Of course, this is a different issue from adapting a work to make it suit modern taste, which Heseltine especially objected to. Even so, judging whether a manuscript contains an error is likely to involve aesthetic judgements, and these can be highly contentious. It’s worth recalling here that Heseltine saw no virtue in retaining old conventions of notation – a view many modern editors would dissent from. DOWLAND, WARLOCK AND SEGOVIA, PART 2

5

Heseltine did not have much use for the critical apparatus of the scholarly edition, with its footnotes and appendices explaining every decision taken. No doubt this type of edition does deter many non-specialist readers. However, eschewing it means that anomalies can appear without comment, which might not serve the best interests of the composer. A case in point is the long chord in bar 12 of Heseltine’s transcription (Example 2). Readers might reasonably be doubtful about Heseltine’s claims for Dowland’s greatness as a composer when confronted with this. In the 1960s, some of Heseltine’s editions of Elizabethan songs were republished. Reviewing them, British musicologist Jack Westrup wrote: ‘...there are passages in these collections which no sane person could defend as correct. It was all very well for Warlock to suggest, as he did in The English Ayre , that tablature notation was a guarantee of accuracy: he must have known perfectly well that errors in a printed tablature are even more likely than in staff notation. In fact, he made his own emendations from time to time; only, unlike Fellowes, he did not indicate them in a preface.’

8

Westrup implies here that Heseltine’s purist approach verged on the doctrinaire. This is understandable if we consider that, in his transcriptions, Heseltine was not simply making Dowland’s music available, but also making a case for Dowland’s greatness as a composer. His transcriptions became part of a larger musical mission to elevate Dowland’s status. The trouble is, with such variable source materials, reverence for Dowland and reverence for the surviving texts are two different, but overlapping matters. Heseltine seems to have conflated them. Actually, Heseltine did sometimes indicate emendations that he had made, as we will see in Part 3, but he appears to have been somewhat inconsistent in this. What of the ‘Unnamed Piece’ which has featured in this article? My own feeling is that Noad’s version (Example 4) is musically the most convincing – as far as bar 16. However, any fix adopted for bar 16 needs to have more musical interest than the version in Example 5. I claim no compositional expertise, but I think a couple of desirable characteristics for any fix in bar 16 are: 1

The pattern of descending thirds should be continued into the first half of bar 16

2

The dissonance on beat 3 of bar 16 should be prepared in the first half of bar 16.

Example 6 is my shot at this, although I wouldn’t pretend this is what Dowland would have written. The descending third is between (on beat 1) the E in the top part and (on beat 2) the C sharp on an inner part. The decision to make this falli ng third between two parts rather than within the top part was conditioned by desire to have to


6

dissonance at the top of the chord on beat 3 arise from two separate parts. This might be unduly punctilious for lute music of this period.

Example 6 Descending third used at the start of bar 16 In Example 6 one might object to the consecutive fifths between the outer parts on beats 1 and 3 (actually an octave plus a fifth), but Dowland seems to have been untroubled by such things. The reader might be amused to know that the piece under discussion was described by the Dowland scholar Diana Poulton as ‘an agreeable little composition but not 9

particularly distinguished in any way.’ Heseltine evidently thought otherwise. One of the attractions of the piece to me is the ease with which it lends itself to embellishment along the lines of Example 7. However, I would also suggest that the piece benefits from a few more discreet modifications, in addition to those discussed here.

Example 7 Simple embellishment of opening Issues of editorial practice recur in the final article of this series next month, when I bring Segovia back into the story and give an explanation for an enigmatic piece he recorded as a ‘galliard’ by Dowland.

Notes

1

Frederick Noad, The Renaissance Guitar (Ariel Music Publications Inc.), 1974, p. 65.

2

Diana Poulton and Basil Lam (eds) The Collected Lute Music of John Dowland (Faber, 1981).

In this volume the piece is number 49.


7

3

The problem with the manuscript of this piece is explained, somewhat tersely, in a note in

Diana Poulton and Basil Lam (eds) The Collected Lute Music of John Dowland (Faber, 1981), p. 171. 4

5

Frederick Noad, The Renaissance Guitar (Ariel Music Publications Inc.), 1974, p. 65. John Dowland: Complete Lute Works, vol. 1, Harmonia Mundi, 907160.

6

Philip Heseltine, The English Ayre, Oxford University Press, 1926, p.133.

7

Philip Heseltine, ‘On Editing Elizabethan Songs’, Musical Times, July 1922, p. 480.

8

‘JAW’ (Jack Westrup) reviewing English Ayres, Elizabethan and Jacobean, transcribed and

edited by Peter Warlock, Oxford University Press, in Music and Letters vol. 45, no. 3, July 1964, p. 306. 9

Diana Poulton, John Dowland , second edition, Faber, 1982, p. 160.


8

Warlock, Dowland and Segovia Part 3: Dowland’s mysterious ‘galliard’ Allan Clive Jones Part 1 of this series of articles discussed the pioneering work of Philip Heseltine (real name of the composer Peter Warlock) as a transcriber Dowland’s lute songs and lute solos in the 1920s. Heseltine appears to have made some of this music – possibly a great deal of it – available to Segovia around 1927, although it is not clear that Segovia made much use of it. Part 2 looked at Heseltine’s editorial practices when producing his editions of early music. All these elements come together in this final article of the series, where I resolve a puzzle surrounding one of the Dowland pieces recorded by Segovia. Pioneering as Heseltine’s work on Dowland was, he did not have the field entirely to himself. Mention was made in Part 1 of the work of Canon E. H. Fellowes, who began transcribing and publishing the lute songs of Dowland and other lutenists a few years before Heseltine. Even these British editors, however, were not alone. A couple of editors in continental Europe began to republish a few of Dowland’s works in the early 1920s. Their work actually preceded Heseltine’s, although in quantity it amounted to much less. An early continental editor of Dowland was Dr Hans Dagobert Bruger, who also published an edition of the Bach lute suites. In 1923 he published John Dowland’s Solostücke für die Laute (‘John Dowland’s solo pieces for the lute’). This slim

volume contained four unnamed galliards, the Lachrimae pavan, two unnamed allemands, and a version of the pavan Semper Dowland Semper Dolens . Bruger, unlike Heseltine, did not go back to manuscripts or other authoritative sources for his edition. His main source was Joachim van den Hove’s Delitiae Musicae, an anthology 1

of lute tablatures by various composers published in Utrecht in 1612. Several lute solos in this volume were attributed to Dowland. For many of the Dowland pieces in his Delitiae Musicae, Hove drew on one of the few authoritative collections of Dowland’s instrumental works published in Dowland’s lifetime. This was Lachrimae or Seven Tears Figured in Seven Passionate Pavans, with Divers other Pavans, Galliards and Almands . For brevity I will refer to

this from now on simply as the Lachrimae collection. In an article published in 1927, Heseltine explained that the Lachrimae collection consisted of:


1

‘... twenty-one pieces for five viols, with an ad libitum lute part (which in some numbers is a free transcription of the viol parts, in others a mere accompaniment, the melody being omitted).

2

The viol, which Heseltine refers to here, was a bowed string instrument with frets. Figure 1 shows a tenor viol, with a guitar for comparison. Viol consorts, with viols of various sizes, were popular chamber ensembles from around the time of Henry VIII.

Figure 1

Tenor viol and guitar for comparison.

The viol was fretted, had six strings, and was played with a bow. The tenor instrument had Renaissance-lute tuning: G C F A D G. Viol consorts comprised treble, tenor and bass instruments, often with multiple parts for each type of viol. The viol family was developed at about the same time as the violin family, and was not a forerunner of the violin family The first item in Dowland’s Lachrimae collection is a consort arrangement of his famous Lachrimae pavan. This piece is known in its song form as Flow My Tears , but is re-titled Lachrimae Antiquae in the collection. This piece, of course, is the source of the collection’s title. Although Dowland’s Lachrimae collection contained no solo items, enterprising publishers in the seventeenth century extracted solo lute pieces from it. As Heseltine explained: ‘These accompanying lute parts [in the Lachrimae collection] were sometimes reprinted – 3

no doubt by pirate publishers – as though they constituted the whole piece.’

That is to say, the lute parts from the consort pieces were sometimes published by ‘pirate publishers’ as solo items. According to Heseltine, one of these pirates was Hove. Bruger unwittingly gave Hove’s artificial ‘solos’ a new lease of life in his 1923 edition of Dowland lute pieces, as Heseltine explained: ‘Dr Hans Dagobert Bruger has recently published the accompaniments only of two Galliards and two Almans from ‘Lachrimae’ without, apparently, being aware that the melodies were missing. His transcriptions were made from Joachim van den Hove’s ‘Delitiae Musicae,’ which was printed at Utrecht in 1612.’


4

2

Hove might not have been as reprehensible as Heseline suggests for extracting lute solos from Dowland’s Lachrimae collection. When Heseltine says in the extract quoted above that the Lachrimae pieces are for ‘five viols, with an ad libitum lute part’, he is giving only one interpretation of a notoriously ambiguous statement by Dowland. On the title page of Lachrimae, the text says: ‘set forth for the Lute, Viols or Violons, in five parts’. This could mean that lute, viols and violins were alternatives – an interpretation supported by the fact that the lute parts generally incorporated much of the music of the other parts, including, in most cases, the tune. On that interpretation, Hove’s extraction of lute solos from Lachrimae could be defended. Nevertheless, the prevailing opinion nowadays is that the lute should play along with the five bowed-string parts, and that the lute parts were not intended as independent solos.

5

In editing the Dowland ‘solos’ from the lute tablatures in Hove’s Delitiae Musicae, Bruger transposed them down a minor third, and put them in the treble clef, creating a version playable directly on the guitar. One of the ‘solos’ in his edition, entitled ‘Almain’, is shown in Example 1. I have added the letters X and Y to clarify the following discussion. This Almain is one of those lute parts from Lachrimae that lacks the tune.

Example 1

Almain from Bruger’s John Dowland’s Solostücke für die Laute, 1923

Example 1 is the mysterious Dowland piece I referred to in Part 1 of this series. Segovia recorded it more than once, and billed it on his recordings (and presumably in 6

concert performances) as a ‘galliard’ by Dowland. It is not a galliard (which is a triple-time dance) and, as we have seen, not a lute solo. It is, however, definitely by Dowland. From consort to solo


3

The question naturally arises as to which of the consort piece gave rise to the ‘solo’ in Example 1. Fortunately this is easy to establish, as Heseltine himself edited 7

Dowland’s Lachrimae collection in 1926, with the lute tablatures transcribed into keyboard notation. In Example 2 I reproduce Heseltine’s transcription of Mrs Nichols Almand from Lachrimae.

Example 2 Mrs Nichols Almand from Dowland’s Lachrimae consort pieces, transcribed by Heseltine As Example 2 shows, Heseltine allocated the five bowed parts of the consort to two violins, a viola and two cellos. Dowland’s original publication does not specify the instrument for each part. Instead he designated each part by its place in the musical texture. From top to bottom, relative to Heseltine’s score, these were: cantus (usually carrying the tune), altus, tenor, quintus and bassus. In a viol consort, the instrumentation would be, from top to bottom, treble viol, three tenor viols and a bass WARLOCK, DOWLAND AND SEGOVIA, PART 3

4

viol. Using members of the violin family, the equivalent could be violin, three violas and cello, rather than the ‘Schubert-quintet’ instrumentation given by Heseltine.

8

The lute part of Example 2 is virtually the same as the almain in Example 1. Thus the mysterious Dowland ‘galliard’ is actually the lute part from t he consort piece Mrs Nichols Almand , published as a lute solo by Hove in 1612, and re-published by Bruger

in 1923 in ‘guitar’ notation. Mrs Nichols Almand also exists as a genuine lute-solo, 9

known as Mrs Nichols Almain. The real lute-solo bears little audible relation to the lute part of the consort version in Example 2. It is not surprising, therefore, that the identity of the piece recorded by Segovia should have been so mysterious. Missing notes

How can we be sure that Segovia got his so-called ‘galliard’ from Bruger’s edition, rather than from Heseltine’s Lachrimae transcription? After all, as Part 1 of this series showed, Heseltine had some contact with Segovia in the 1920s, and, by his own account, Heseltine ‘introduced’ Segovia to Dowland’s music. The answer lies in some telling differences between Heseltine’s transcription and Bruger’s publication. In Heseltine’s consort transcription (Example 2), the stretch from the beginning as far as the letter X in the lute part is the same as the equivalent stretch in Bruger’s Example 1 (allowing for the downward transposition of Example 1 relative to Example 2). Similarly, in both pieces, the stretch from the letter Y to the end is the same. However, Bruger’s ‘solo’ in Example 1 contains, between X and Y, four quavers (eighth-notes) over a two-note chord. This passage is absent from Heseltine’s consort transcription (Example 2). Segovia plays this passage in his recordings, and this tells us that he got the piece from Bruger’s 1923 publication, rather than from Heseltine’s transcription.

10

The passage in question does actually appear Mrs Nichols Almand as published in the Lachrimae collection in Dowland’s lifetime. Heseltine, however, has suppressed it in

his transcription to fix what he and other editors considered to be an error in the lute part. The error, in modern parlance, consists of an additional half-bar of music in the lute part for which there is no corresponding music in the other parts. The passage that Heseltine has suppressed would, if played, make the lute part half a bar longer than the other parts. Rather unusually, given his reluctance to explain his editorial procedures (see Part 2), Heseltine gives a footnote in which he says he has suppressed four ‘redundant’ quavers. He marks their location with an asterisk – visible in Example 2 at the end of


5

bar 8 of the lute part. Unfortunately the asterisk is misplaced. It should be in the middle of bar 8, between the letters X and Y.

11

It might seem strange that the lute part to Mrs Nichols Almand could have appeared in print in Dowland’s lifetime with so significant an anomaly. However, these consort pieces were printed not as a score (like Example 2), which would make unequal amounts of music in the parts obvious, but in ‘table l ayout’, in which the parts were arranged around the sides of a book-opening. Players sat around the opened book and played from it. Figure 2 indicates the table layout used in Lachrimae.

Figure 2

‘Table layout’ used for the original publication of Dowland’s

Lachrimae consort pieces

Example 3 is the cantus part for Mrs Nichols Almand . Like all the other bowed parts, it is unbarred. The lute part (Example 4), although barred, is not barred in a way that corresponds to modern practice. It contains the entire first section of the lute part of Mrs Nichols Almand (bars 1–4 of Heseltine’s transcription). With table-layout, and

with unbarred parts, anomalies in individual parts can arise easily, and are hard to 12

spot.

Example 3 Cantus part of Mrs Nichols Almand

Example 4 Lute part for first section of Mrs Nichols Almand WARLOCK, DOWLAND AND SEGOVIA, PART 3

6

Duos

Although Hove’s (and Bruger’s) lute ‘solos’ extracted from the Lachrimae collection were deprecated by Heseltine, he was sympathetic to the idea of a duo arrangement of the consort pieces. In the introduction to his edition of Dowland’s Lachrimae, Heseltine suggests that a melody instrument could play the cantus part, accompanied a keyboard instrument playing the lute part. As the lute parts on the whole contain much of the music of the bass and inner parts, little is lost by this arrangement. Clearly there is scope here for adapting Heseltine’s idea, but with a guitar playing the lute part. In Example 5 I have created such a duo version of Mrs Nichols Almand for flute (or any other melody instrument) and guitar. The guitar part is the consort’s lute part transposed down a minor third, but with no further adaptation to the guitar. The flute part is the cantus part, also transposed down a minor third. For the guitar part, instead of using Bruger’s transcription in Example 1, I have gone to Heseltine’s transcription (Example 2). Naturally the ‘redundant’ notes shown in Example 1 between X and Y are absent from the guitar part in my arrangement. In addition, a couple of notes at the end of bar 7, and the chord at the beginning of bar 8, are changed from Heseltine’s version. Heseltine transcribed these bars faithfully from the source edition, adding the Latin ‘SIC’ over the staff to indicate that what he had transcribed really was what the source said. He felt reassurance was necessary because the lute here does not duplicate notes elsewhere in the consort parts, and its part doesn’t fit with the harmony. The Dowland scholar Diana Poulton has suggested that there is an error in the source, and proposed an amendment which I have adopted.


7

13

Example 5

A duo arrangement, based the consort version of Mrs Nichols Almand

For some instruments (including a treble viol), the melody part would sit more comfortably in the original consort key of C, a minor third above that given here. In that case the guitar part could be played with a capo at the third fret. The duo version in Example 5 could, of course, also be performed by two guitars, with one guitar reading the melody an octave higher. In principle, a more ‘equal’ guitar duet could be created by combining the guitar part in Example 5 with a guitar arrangement of the lute-solo version of Mrs Nichol’s Almain. The snag here is that the lute-solo version is in a key that is a fairly wide

interval away from that of the consort piece, and would need to be transposed by a large interval to make it sit above the consort lute-part. Whether it would sti ll by playable after transposition is doubtful. In addition, Dowland has slightly adjusted the melody in the consort version from that in the lute-solo version. The bars most affected by this modification are 7 to the end. Yet a further possible arrangement would be for a 5-part guitar ensemble to play the consort parts, without the lute part. As the lute largely duplicates some of the other consort instruments, there is no significant loss of musical material by doing this. After downward transposition by a minor third, all parts fit within the compass of the WARLOCK, DOWLAND AND SEGOVIA, PART 3

8

guitar quite comfortably. Other pieces from the Lachrimae set could similarly be adapted for guitar-ensemble use. Heseltine’s demise

The years after his work on Dowland’s instrumental pieces marked a sharp deterioration in Heseltine’s well being. His output declined, and he felt musical inspiration was deserting him. His high level of alcohol consumption no doubt played a part in this. His habitually disordered life became more so, and he was subject to bouts of despair at his condition. At the end of 1930, at the age of 36, he took his own life. Heseltine’s early death was a sad loss for several reasons. He was, within a limited field, a fine composer. His speciality was songs. He was also, as this series has shown, remarkably enterprising, if idiosyncratic, editor of old music. His scholarly interests were by no means confined to music from the British Isles; he also transcribed music by French lutenists. As a writer on music he was lucid and insightful, and many of his articles and books can still be read with profit, and certainly with pleasure. Somewhat speculatively, I would also like to suggest that he was a loss to the world of the guitar. He strikes me as the sort of composer who would have been sympathetic to the instrument, and who, if he had lived a few more decades, would have enjoyed creating a significant body of music for it.

Notes

1

Of the eight pieces in Bruger’s John Dowland’s Solostücke für die laute , five are from Hove’s

Delitiae Musicae (1612), and three are from Besard’s Thesaurus Harmonicus (1603). 2

Philip Heseltine, ‘More light on John Dowland’, Musical Times, 1 August 1927, p.689.

3

Philip Heseltine, ‘More light on John Dowland’, Musical Times, 1 August 1927, p.689.

4

Philip Heseltine, ‘More light on John Dowland’, Musical Times, 1 August 1927, p.689. Italics in

original. 5

Peter Holman gives the arguments for this interpretation in Dowland: Lachrimae (1604), Cambridge

University Press, 1999, p. 22–25. 6

Segovia recorded it in 1944, appended to three short Purcell pieces. This recording has been reissued

on CD on ‘Andrés Segovia: the 1944 American Recordings’, Naxos, 8.111087. He recorded it again in 1956, paired with Digorie Piper’s Galliard . These two items have been reissued on the CD ‘Andrés


9

Segovia: 1950s American Recordings, volume 4’, Naxos, 8.111092. He recorded it yet again in Madrid in December 1969, along with a free adaptation of Digorie Piper’s Galliard and the Melancholy Galliard . This recording has been reissued on ‘Andres Segovia: a Centenary Celebration’, Disc 1,

MCA Classics, MCAD4 11124. 7

Heseltine’s edition of Dowland’s Lachrimae was published by Oxford University Press in 1927.

8

Peter Holman explains this in Dowland: Lachrimae (1604), Cambridge University Press, 1999, p. 18.

9

The lute-solo version of Mrs Nichol’s Almain is Poulton number 52.

10

Tony Palmer’s Julian Bream: a Life on the Road (MacDonald and Co., 1982), p. 125, says that

Heseltine’s edition of the Lachrimae consort pieces was the source of Segovia’s Dowland transcriptions, but if this were true of this particular piece the notes between X and Y in Example 1 would be missing from Segovia’s recordings. They are not. 11

The problem of these redundant notes is discussed by Diana Poulton in her book John Dowland

(Faber, revised ed. 1982), pp. 369–370. 12

Peter Holman points out in Dowland: Lachrimae (1604) (Cambridge University Press, 1999), p. 9,

that although editions in table layout were widely used for vocal music, they were not so much used for instrumental music. For consorts of bowed instruments, getting close enough to the boo k to read it left insufficient space for bowing. 13

See Diana Poulton’s book John Dowland (revised ed. 1982, Faber), p p. 369–370, for a discussion of

her interpretation of the lute part in bars 7 and 8.


10

Warlock Dowland and Segovia-libre

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