The early eighteenth century presented a rather curious spectacle in European music. Whilst most composers indulged in an almost masturbatory devotion to their respective national styles, as if each had personally discovered fire, the Germans elected to pursue a different course entirely. They decided, with admirable pragmatism, to appropriate from everyone. This musical acquisition was dignified with the term vermischter Geschmack (mixed taste). Georg Philipp Telemann proved himself the undisputed master of this cross-pollination, a composer who regarded the unwritten rules governing what instruments could and could not accomplish.
The loquacious champion of German musical ambition, Johann Mattheson, could scarcely contain his satisfaction when he boasted about his countrymen's ability to "combine the Italian and French styles" (Das neu-eröffnete Orchestre, 1713). Ernst Gottlieb Baron articulated the matter with greater precision: Italian music possessed the gravity of a cardiac arrest, French music offered unalloyed entertainment, and the Germans? They demanded both. "This nation loves variety," he observed, "moving from one thing (and even one extreme) to another" (Historisch-theoretische und practische Untersuchung des Instruments der Lauten, 1727).
Bach and Telemann were not merely experimenting: they identified four core national styles that constituted the genetic material of European music: Italian, French, English, and Polish. Consider them the primary colours of Baroque excellence.
Italian Style: The Intellectual Rigourist
Serious
Contrapuntal complexity
Virtuosic display
Emotional intensity
Harmonies requiring considerable sophistication
French Style:
Light, entertaining, and entirely delightful
Dance rhythms
Ornaments in abundance
Structural elegance
Grace over technical exhibitionism
The genius lay not in choosing sides: it resided in creating hybrids that should not exist but somehow function admirably.
Contemporary music critics, those self-appointed guardians of taste, attempted to ban Telemann from music entirely. They predicted he would become a "wandering minstrel, charlatan, tightrope dancer, or marmot catcher."
What Telemann was accomplishing was genuinely revolutionary:
Employing flute in unorthodox ways that caused traditionalists considerable distress
Creating compositional tours de force that challenged every conventional belief about solo wind performance
Combining technical brilliance with expressive depth
Demonstrating sophisticated understanding of key characteristics and rhetorical effects
Drawing inspiration from folk musicians' improvisatory ideas (because occasionally the finest teachers are not found in conservatories)
You see, the eighteenth century harboured this widespread belief that wind instruments could not, or should not, perform solo because they could not create and sustain harmony. Even cadenzas were considered optimal when limited to a single breath. Only three Baroque composers possessed sufficient conviction to challenge this nonsense: J.S. Bach, C.P.E. Bach, and our subject Telemann.
Historical context: Represents Telemann's response to Bach's solo instrumental works
Stylistic synthesis: Combines baroque tradition with emerging galant lightness
Formal innovation: Freedom within fantasia form whilst demonstrating complete musical understanding
Imaginative scope: Evokes pictures, feelings, natural phenomena beyond mere technical display
Dating controversy:
Kuijken: before 1728 based on poor engraving quality (before Telemann employed copper or pewter plates)
Sato (2017): definitively 1731 based on Steven Zohn's chronological work
Flute Fantasias (Late 1731): The dating of these works has been more contentious than a custody dispute. As Min (1998) notes, "According to Hausswald, the 12 Fantasies for Solo Flute date from 1732; Kuijken suggests that five years earlier might be more acceptable" (Min, 1998, p. 1). More recent scholarship by Zohn (2020) proposes late 1731 as the composition date. Published in Hamburg where Telemann had been working as Kantor of the Johanneum since 1721.
Only one copy survived, concealed in Brussels like a musical refugee. These works essentially told everyone what they thought a solo flute could accomplish to go hang. Telemann may have prepared the engraving plates himself, one of his first ventures in the art. The surviving first edition copy was absurdly mistitlled "Fantasie per il Violino senza Basso," with Telemann's name only added in pencil later.
Here is why we know these are for flute, not violin:
Range never descends below D above middle C (lowest note of baroque flute)
Never employs violin's lowest string
Some string-like figures (spread chords) are actually unidiomatic for violin
Multiple stopping passages would require notes on different strings for violin
Violin fantasias contain considerable sustained double stopping (which these lack)
Matches Telemann's autobiography mention of fantasias for transverse flute
Autobiographical reference: Telemann mentions fantasias for transverse flute in 1740 autobiography (Mattheson's Grundlage einer Ehrenpforte)
Musical fingerprints: Specific movements comparable to known Telemann works
Fantasia II Adagio ≈ A minor oboe sonata Andante movement
E minor Fantasia final movement ≈ G major Partita Aria 3 (cross-rhythmic wit)
Viola da Gamba Fantasias (c. 1735): Lost. Gone. Vanished like decent whisky at a wake. Then they surfaced in 2015 in some private collector's possession, proving that occasionally miracles occur and lost masterpieces emerge from wealthy people's cupboards.
Violin Fantasias (c. 1735): Survived only as an eighteenth-century copy because the original was consumed by history. Telemann advertised these works as containing "six works with fugues and six 'Galanterien'" (learned counterpoint and fashionable entertainment).
These fantasias were probably written for three musician brothers from Hamburg:
Rudolph (flute)
Hieronymus (violin)
Johann (harpsichord)
Skilled amateurs with taste and curiosity: the sort of individuals who would appreciate both technical wizardry and musical accessibility.
The list of German works that could have influenced Telemann's solo writing is relatively brief. You have Heinrich Ignaz Franz von Biber's violin passacaglia (c. 1676), Johann Paul von Westhoff's violin suite and six partitas (1683, 1696), Johann Georg Pisendel's violin sonata (c. 1716), and naturally J.S. Bach's partitas and sonatas for violin (1719-1731), his Partita in A minor for flute (before 1724), and his cello suites (before 1724). Earlier still, Jacob van Eyck's recorder solos and Jacques Hotteterre's transverse flute works (1708, 1719) had established the beauty of such solo forms.
Telemann knew Pisendel's work intimately. He even published the concluding giga of Pisendel's sonata in Der getreue Music-Meister. His fantasy sets may echo Bach's structural approach: Bach's violin pieces are labelled "Libro Primo" (Book One), with the cello suites assumed to be the sequel.
But here is where Telemann departed entirely from convention. Whilst other composers exercised caution with their flute music (pleasant little preludes, some dance movements, perhaps a sonata if they were feeling adventurous), Telemann asked, "What if we compose a French overture for solo flute?"
This is rather like attempting to prepare a five-course meal with nothing but a tin opener. French overtures require orchestras: those majestic dotted rhythms, the slow-fast-slow structure, the sheer grandeur. How does one compress all that into a single melodic line?
Telemann's solution:
Register contrasts that deceive your ear into hearing orchestral sections
Rhythmic patterns that suggest multiple players
Strategic silences that allow your imagination to fill the gaps
Ornamental passages that proclaim orchestral brilliance
Ground bass techniques on solo flute? That is rather like attempting surgery with a butter knife. But Telemann achieved it through motivic repetition, pedal points, and harmonic implications.
This is where Baroque aesthetics become beautifully, deliciously deceptive. These works concern themselves entirely with illusion: making one instrument sound like two, three, or an entire orchestra.
Techniques for Sonic Deception:
Rapid register alternation (high notes, low notes, repeat until listeners lose their bearings)
Strategic use of silence (because occasionally what you do not play proves everything)
Pedal points that create phantom bass lines
Motivic repetition that suggests multiple voices in conversation
Arpeggiated passages that outline harmonies like musical architecture
Wolfgang Hirschmann has observed that the twelve fantasias may be organised into four groups of three, each set presenting a contrasting modal trajectory: major–minor–minor; major–major–minor; major–minor–major; minor–major–minor (Hirschmann, Das Werk Georg Philipp Telemanns, 1995). Another structural division suggests itself: the seventh fantasia begins with a French overture marked Alla Francese, a gesture that may announce a second part of the cycle. J.S. Bach would employ a similar device nine years later in the Goldberg Variations, where Variation 16 (a French overture) marks the beginning of the second half.
Within these carefully arranged cycles, Telemann's treatment of tonality and affect is equally nuanced. Each fantasia explores a key whose character is enhanced, or constrained, by the physical properties of the Baroque flute. Unlike modern flutes with their even tuning and dynamic control, the one-keyed transverse flute demanded sensitive exploitation of each key's acoustic idiosyncrasies. These tonal decisions were not merely pragmatic but expressive: certain keys aligned with particular Affekten, lending emotional specificity to each piece.
Flute Fantasias:
Clearer formal structures throughout
Consistent key relationships within each fantasia
More systematic key organisation
Better cohesion between movements
Two, three, or four short and clear movements
Free and various forms: prelude, toccata, recitative, fugal entry, and dance form
Methodical compositional approach
Violin Fantasias:
Less clear formal structures
More arbitrary, "fantasy-like" connections between movements
Final movements often brief "afterthoughts" after serious movements
Telemann deliberately misleads listeners (e.g., incomplete French Overture in No.2)
More random key selection
Cohesion of movements less formal and frequently more arbitrary
As Min (1998) observes, "Formally, they are less clear than the Flute Fantasies. Basic structures and forms such as Dance Suite and Solo Form are continued, and there are two examples of 4-movement fantasies. Nonetheless, the cohesion of movements in some instances is less formal and frequently more arbitrary, or simply 'fantasy-like'" (Min, 1998, p. 3).
Flute Fantasias: Here is where Telemann demonstrates his encyclopaedic obsession. Min (1998) notes that Telemann proceeds through the fantasias "in ascending stepwise tonal centres, beginning with A and ending on G; a G Major scale in effect, with an added Bb" (Min, 1998, p. 2). This creates an encyclopaedic presentation popular at the time, comparable to Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier and his Two/Three-Part Inventions, or Schickhardt's "L'Alphabet de la Musique" (24 sonatas in all keys, 1735).
The genius is that this creates a G Major scale with added Bb, featuring:
7 sharp-signature keys (including unusual A and E Major for flute of the time)
3 flat-signature keys
No key repetition
Same key maintained throughout each fantasia (except No.2, which shifts to relative C Major in the Adagio)
Violin Fantasias: Less organised key selection. Telemann seems to have loosened his grip on systematic organisation:
6 sharp-signature keys (including A and E Major)
4 flat-signature keys
One repeated key (D Major)
Different keys within fantasias: 5 relative minors (Nos. 1,4,5,7,10), 1 unrelated minor (No.11), 2 relative majors (Nos. 6,12)
Three unique keys not in flute set: F minor, Eb Major, F Major
Three flute keys not in violin set: C Major, D minor, F# minor
Here is where matters become interesting for contemporary players. The violin fantasias, despite obvious violinistic techniques, fall into general flute range if you employ an instrument with a B-foot-joint (standard equipment in the United States). The uppermost note for both sets is identical: third-line E above the treble staff. Telemann chose not to employ the higher notes available to both instruments of his time.
The violin descends to its lowest G frequently, giving an overall mid-range tessitura. With modern flutes' low B available, the range approaches violin compass more closely. In instances where this range is attainable (like Violin Fantasy No.10), the effect is both gratifying and appropriate.
Modern musicians hear "Vivace" and think "fast," but they are missing the point entirely. Eighteenth-century tempo concerned mouvement: character, mood, the soul of the thing.
Leopold Mozart spelled it out: "Vivace means animated, and forms a midpoint between fast and slow." It is not about racing to the finish line; it is about musical fire, energy, and life. "Vivace" does not mean fast: it means alive. You can play slowly and still be vivacious. Think of it thus: a great conversation can be animated without everyone talking as if they are under stimulants.
The eighteenth-century metrical system was grounded in the belief that each metre possessed its own inherent character, determined by the size and number of its beats. Metres with longer beat units (such as 4/4 or 3/2) were understood to be naturally more serious and solemn than their shorter-beat counterparts like 4/8 or 3/8. As one theorist put it, "where the number of beats is the same, the one with the longer beat is by nature more serious."
3/2 was not merely a "slow triple metre"; it signified a specific affective gravity, especially when used in arias, sonatas, or Sarabandes. Time signatures themselves were in flux. The distinction between C (common time) and ¢ (cut time) had long been mathematical, often understood in a ratio of 2:1, or even 3:2 in certain seventeenth-century concerto contexts. The introduction of signatures like 2/4, first documented in Mattheson's 1713 Das neu-eröffnete Orchestre, reflected a growing need to notate lighter, more agile textures in chamber and theatrical music.
By the mid-eighteenth century, as theorists such as Scheibe, Kirnberger, and Majer attest, each metre had acquired stylistic connotations. 2/4 became associated with spirited, often comic movements, whilst 3/2 had become the slowest available triple metre, reserved for stately adagios and mournful arias.
C.P.E. Bach wrote that in Berlin, "the Adagios are performed far more slowly, and the Allegros far more quickly than is customary elsewhere. In certain foreign parts this error is particularly prevalent, to play adagios too fast and allegros too slow."
Finally, this nuanced sense of motion reflected the broader Baroque aesthetic, where contrasts of character (rather than mechanical consistency) formed the basis of musical persuasion. Tempo words were never absolute indicators. They were invitations to interpretation, asking performers to internalise not just speed, but spirit. As one contemporary summed it up: "A speech can be lively without being fast, so it is in music."
Bowing in the eighteenth century was not merely about producing notes: it concerned character, emotion, the entire dramatic experience.
Allegro Bowing: Sharp, detached, playful. Like verbal sparring: quick, precise, energetic but controlled. The bow lifts off the string frequently because Allegro is about articulation, clarity, that sense of musical play. As Quantz put it: "The Allegro, Allegro assai, Allegro di molto, Presto, Vivace, call for a lively, really light, detached, and very short bowstroke, since these kinds of pieces must be played more playfully than seriously, yet taking care to play with a certain moderation of tone."
Schulz added: "The degree of heaviness or lightness depends chiefly on the metre of the piece. The longer the note values of the metre, the heavier the manner of playing must be; the shorter the note values, the lighter the manner must be."
Adagio Bowing: The bow remains married to the string, creating sustained, expressive sound. Nothing is cut short abruptly. It concerns depth, weight, emotional truth. "In Adagio, nothing must be sharply cut short. Even the stroke of the bow must be less rapid in Adagio; consequently, in Adagio, only the pressure of the bow remains to convey strength." Because of the frequent detaching and sharp Abzüge (lifting of the bow), forte in Allegro acquires a completely different character from forte in Adagio, a completely different animal entirely.
So even the dynamics were determined by the tempo word.
Italian Influence: The fugal movements in each fantasia set (six per collection) represent peak Italian seriousness. Intellectual rigour, contrapuntal complexity, virtuosic display. This is music for people who prefer their entertainment challenging.
French Influence: The Galanterien (the other six movements per set) embody French divertissement. Dance-derived, structurally elegant, ornamentally sophisticated. This is music that charms comprehensively.
The German Synthesis: Telemann did not simply alternate between styles like some musical schizophrenic. He created hybrids: fugal movements with dance characteristics, binary forms with contrapuntal sophistication, virtuosity balanced with grace.
Whilst the string and wind fantasias are pushing boundaries like intoxicated philosophers, Telemann's keyboard fantasias play it relatively straight:
No fugal complexity
Reduced improvisatory extravagance
Homophonic textures that exploit what keyboards do naturally
Lyrical emphasis over technical exhibitionism
It is as if he understood that keyboards already invite harmonic writing, so why repair what is not broken? The challenge with strings and winds was making harmonic implications through essentially melodic means.
Telemann's approach to creating multiple voices on a single instrument extends far beyond simple register changes. He employs a sophisticated toolkit of techniques:
Stratification Methods:
Different functions: Distinguishing bass line from melodic line through rhythmic placement
Contrary or oblique motion: Voices moving in opposite directions or one static whilst the other moves
Range separation: Strategic use of instrument's entire tessitura
Character differentiation: One voice legato, another staccato; one accented, another soft
Rhythmic Solutions: The secret often lies in equal duration between implied voices. Whilst Renaissance practice called for rhythmic variety to distinguish voices, Telemann found that equal note values actually make the polyphonic illusion more convincing on solo instruments.
Three-Voice Experiments: Occasionally Telemann attempts three-part writing, usually in sequences where repetition clarifies the voice leading. But as analysis shows, true three-part writing on monodic instruments reaches the limits of comprehensibility. Beyond two voices, we hear chordal outlines rather than independent lines.
The theoretically impossible one-voice fugue appears throughout the collection. As Min (1998) identifies, this becomes a signature element: "In this very first 'fantasy', Telemann provides his initial (and very effective) example of a 'smoke & mirrors' compositional element, to be repeated many times throughout the set: the theoretically-impossible one-voice fugue" (Min, 1998, p. 13). Here is how Telemann accomplishes this compositional conjuring trick:
Fantasia 1 Analysis (Vivace, bars 11-26):
Four subject statements with only one answer
Subject: Simple ascending fourths starting a third apart, ending with cadence
Countersubject uses imperfect intervals (thirds, sixths) to maintain harmonic warmth
Wide intervallic leaps distinguish voices aurally
Strategic use of "tied" dissonances through register displacement
Stretto effects through compressed temporal intervals
Harmonic vs. Modal Approach: Unlike Fux's modal fugues, Telemann approaches fugue harmonically. Subjects can contain modulations and chromatic alterations. The structure follows harmonic logic: Subject in tonic → Answer at dominant → Episodes using falling fifths → Return to tonic with varied countersubjects.
The Preparation Trick: Telemann creates the illusion of tied dissonances (a cornerstone of fugal writing) through register displacement. You hear the preparation and resolution even though they are played as separate notes.
The fantasias employ specific rhetorical structures that reveal their sophisticated dramatic architecture:
The Six-Part Structure:
Exordium (Introduction): Arouses attention, prelude or opening ritornello
Narratio (Factual account): Advances the intention/nature of composition
Propositio (Point to be made): Presents actual content, often the fugal theme
Confirmatio (Supporting arguments): Varied repetitions to reinforce the propositio
Confutatio (Rebuttals): Contrasting passages that, when resolved, strengthen the original theme
Conclusio (Concluding comments): Emphatic end, climax or pedal point
Fantasia 1 Rhetorical Analysis:
Bars 1-4: Exordium (introductory prelude)
Bars 5-10: Narratio (contrasting material ending on dominant, indicating more to come)
Bars 11-24: Propositio (the fugal theme proper)
Bar 25+: Confutatio and Confirmatio together (contrasting adagio notes vs. acciaccatura flourishes)
Final section: Conclusio referencing earlier material
Specific rhetorical-musical figures appear throughout the collection:
Ellipsis: Sudden harmonic changes creating dramatic surprise or scene changes. Scheibe defined it as "the breaking off of a passage which one only begins but does not completely finish."
Interrogatio: Musical questions using techniques like Phrygian cadences or rising gestures that demand response.
Symploce: Musical passages that repeat their opening phrases at conclusion, creating satisfying circular structures.
Distributio: Individual motifs developed separately before proceeding to new material, preventing the "patchwork" effect Mattheson warned against.
Dubitatio: Musical ambiguity that creates suspense, allowing for stronger subsequent affirmation.
These were not merely academic exercises. They were practical tools for creating specific emotional effects in listeners.
Most German Lutheran musicians attended church-affiliated schools where the curriculum reveals the intellectual framework behind these fantasias:
Core Subjects: Latin, Greek, rhetoric, and music were taught together. Telemann's school in Hildesheim devoted several hours per week to classical authors including Cicero. Rhetoric was taught as a separate subject.
The Cantor's Role: Often the same person taught both music and rhetoric, reinforcing their connection. Luther's advocacy for music as "second only to theology" gave musical education enormous importance.
Pedagogical Philosophy: Following Comenius's educational reforms, emphasis shifted from rote memorisation to understanding underlying processes. Rather than learning "a forest of diminutions" by heart, students should understand the principles behind improvisation and composition.
The Italian Neapolitan conservatory method influenced German practice:
The Four-Stage Process:
Rules: Basic definitions of compositional materials
Figured partimenti: Bass patterns with harmonic numbers
Unfigured partimenti: Patterns requiring harmonic realisation
Fugues: The crown of the student's studies
Global Compositional Training: As Sanguinetti noted, partimento taught "thorough bass, harmony, counterpoint, form, texture and motivic coherence through improvisation." Students learned by doing, not by analysing.
Writing vs. Playing: Two concurrent approaches existed: improvised partimento (sometimes with imperfect voice leading but overall planning) and strict written vocal fugues. This dual approach mirrors Telemann's balance of freedom and structure.
Telemann's vermischter Geschmack was not random eclecticism but systematic integration:
The German Advantage: Whilst other nations remained stylistically insular, Germans systematically "acquired from everyone." As Ernst Gottlieb Baron put it: "This nation loves variety, moving from one thing (and even one extreme) to another."
Style as Process: Telemann described acquiring different styles throughout his development: Polish, French, theatrical, Italian. His musical personality emerged from combining these influences, not from rejecting them.
The Learning Circle: Telemann described his self-education as a cycle of listening, copying, and writing that fed into each other. No formal teacher needed. The music itself was the instructor.
Rather than seeing the flute's monodic nature as restrictive, Telemann used it as creative opportunity:
The Challenge: How do you create harmonic richness with a single melodic line? How do you suggest orchestral textures on solo wind instrument?
The Innovation: Techniques developed for solo wind writing influenced later composers. The ability to embed harmonic thinking in melodic lines became a crucial compositional skill.
The Influence: From Bach's later solo works to contemporary unaccompanied pieces, Telemann's innovations echo through centuries.
The continuous motion allows few natural rest points. This is not a defect; it is a feature that demands complete musicianship:
Strategic Breathing: Must be stolen at fleeting cadences whilst maintaining structural integrity
Phrase Awareness: Understanding the rhetorical structure helps identify where breaths can be taken without destroying the argument
Physical Preparation: These works demand the stamina of a long-distance runner combined with the precision of a surgeon
Telemann's sparse dynamic markings are not minimalism. They are surgical precision:
Pattern Recognition: The few markings serve as guides for similar unmarked passages
Structural Dynamics: Forte in Allegro differs fundamentally from forte in Adagio due to bowing/articulation differences
Affective Dynamics: Volume changes should serve emotional architecture, not arbitrary contrast
The Fundamental Misunderstanding: Modern musicians hear "Vivace" and think speed. Eighteenth-century musicians heard character.
Leopold Mozart's Clarity: "Vivace means animated, and forms a midpoint between fast and slow." It concerns musical fire, not foot-racing.
The Speech Analogy: As contemporary sources noted, "A speech can be lively without being fast, so it is in music." Animated conversation does not require speed; it requires engagement.
The Nineteenth-Century Trap: Our inherited analytical traditions from Romantic harmonic theory distort Baroque thinking. As Joel Lester warned, "the first priority of a historian of ideas is to understand how the original authors thought."
Contemporary Sources: Using Fux, Marpurg, Mattheson, and other eighteenth-century theorists reveals compositional thinking aligned with Telemann's own understanding.
Historical Propriety: As Laurence Dreyfus argued, "historical propriety means avoiding explanations for a piece of music that one can assert to have been utterly inconceivable to the composer."
Following Mattheson's loci topici, composition begins with systematic exploration:
Choose the affect to be expressed
Select key, metre, rhythm to support that affect
Develop the invention, exploring all possible permutations of basic material
Plan the dispositio, structural organisation of the material
Add elaboratio, ornamental and expressive details
Motivic Unity: This explains why individual fantasias feel so coherent despite their adventurous harmony and form. Everything springs from the opening invention, developed through mathematical and expressive permutation.
The Permutation Principle: Like Kuhnau's mathematical reordering of motivic notes, Telemann explores inversion, retrograde, augmentation, diminution, rhythmic transformation. Every possible variant of his basic material.
In 1753, there was a dispute between Joachim von Moldenit and the flute virtuoso Quantz that perfectly illustrates how these fantasias were viewed. Moldenit criticised Quantz's articulation methods, so Quantz challenged him to a public contest using Telemann's unaccompanied flute fantasias, to be judged by "connoisseurs."
As Min (1998) recounts, citing Edward R. Reilly's translation of Quantz's On Playing the Flute:
"Unfortunately, however, the lengthiest dispute about the Essay was precipitated by a charlatan bent on irritating his former teacher. In 1753, Joachim von Moldenit published in Hamburg a work entitled Sei sonata de flauto traverso e basso continuo, con un discorso sopra la manierra de sonar il flauto traverso. In the sonatas he demanded a range exceeding that customary on the flutes of the day, and in his discorso attacked Quantz's method of articulating with the tongue, explaining that he had a new approach based on the use of the lower lip (sic). Caustic reports of Moldenit's work appeared in Marpurg's Historische-kritische Beytrage which precipitated another work by Moldenit directly attacking Quantz, whom he felt responsible for Marpurg's review. Moldenit's article finally aroused Quantz's ire, and he replied with a sharp rebuttal in which he skilfully examined Moldenit's contentions point by point. In the course of his reply Quantz challenged Moldenit to a public contest with one of his pupils in which Telemann's unaccompanied flute Fantasias were to be performed before a group of connoisseurs. Moldenit, of course, failed to appear, and his failure to support his claims in person was publicly reported by Marpurg, thus putting an end to this amusing tempest in a teapot." (Min, 1998, p. 2)
The significance? It shows these fantasias were considered the gold standard for solo flute performance, the ultimate test of technical and musical mastery.
Composers and theorists (Rousseau, Charpentier, Mattheson, Rameau) believed each key had distinct character. Telemann understood how to manipulate these "powerful elements of Rhetoric" through specific musical figures:
Figura ornata: A motif embellishing a plain note, associated with specific string playing and articulation
Passus duriusculus: The descending chromatic tetrachord. To most composers the chromatic line par excellence, the only chromatic line that mattered
Figura suspirans: The 'sighing' figure, first found in Monteverdi-period vocal music when the singer breathed or sighed on the beat, geared to sobbing expressiveness
The one-keyed flute with tapering bore creates inherent unevenness in the chromatic scale, but Telemann turned this limitation into an expressive tool. Sharp keys provide strong resonant notes for tonic, dominant, subdominant, whilst flat keys place principal notes in softer tones. Telemann mostly uses sharp keys and constantly modulates for changing colours. A single accidental can shift the balance between light and shade, happiness and sadness.
Baroque ornamentation was typically associated with adagio movements, but there are few true slow movements in the fantasias: Bb Andante, D minor Dolce, E minor Largo, E major Affettuoso. Different national styles demanded different approaches:
French style:battements, ports de voix, ornate trills, roulades
Italian style: melismas of irregular notes under slurs
German style: governed by harmony, detailed articulation, rhythmic variety, dynamic nuances
The A minor Adagio is fully ornamented in German style, resembling the C major Methodical Sonata. Dance movements with binary repeats are suitable for decoration. Quantz's advice: start plain, add more each repeat, then return to simplicity.
Slurs are surprisingly sparse (possibly due to Telemann's engraving inexperience), so a wide variety of tonguing syllables were used instead:
Basic patterns: ti and di for different articulations
Pairs: di-ri, extended to di-ri-di-ri or di-Ri-di-Ri
Very fast passages: di-d'l-di-d'l, upgraded to Ti-d'l for emphasis
Articulation choice should highlight mood and character. It is not merely about clarity; it is about emotional expression.
The D major overture raises the question of double-dotting. There was eighteenth-century disagreement between notation and performance. Quantz advocated exaggerating dotted rhythms, creating gaps where string players would retake the bow. This was not about strict notation; it was about capturing the proper French overture style and swagger.
Regular arpeggiation that outlines chord progressions
Spread chords (uncommon in flute music but borrowed from string technique)
Implied double/triple-stopping with Lombardic rhythms
Treble and bass lines through high/low note interspersing
Pedal points and suspensions that create phantom harmony
Canon: C major Allegro
Fugato passages throughout the collection
Strict fugue: D minor Allegro with subject, countersubject, modulation, development, inversions, stretto, and retrograde conclusion
The "theoretically impossible" one-voice fugue, Telemann's signature sleight of hand
3-time patterns vary by dance type:
Minuet/Passepied: strong-weak-weak
Sarabande: strong-Strong-weak (interest on beat 2)
Polonaise: proud, gutsy, phrases resolve on beats 2-3 of measure 4
Most beats translate to poised steps (not heavy downward accents), except for rambunctious jumps in Canarie.
Passepied: Breton origin, faster than minuet, pastoral associations
Bourrée: Quick duple metre, upbeat rhythm
Gigue: 6/8 or compound time, often fugal
Polonaise: Polish origin, triple metre, no upbeat, second beat accent
Chaconne: Triple time over repeating bass line (Fantasia V in 9/8)
Canarie: Energetic 6/8, includes leaps and foot stamping
Sarabande: Slow triple metre, emphasis on second beat
Allemande: Moderate duple time, often without upbeat
Corrente/Courante: Flowing triple metre
Minuet: Moderate triple time, two-bar phrasing patterns
Arioso: Bb major Andante
Folk-song style: C major Largos
Quasi-recitative: A minor Adagio ending
Rhetorical outbursts: questions (B minor Largos), exclamations (G minor Graves)
Improvisatory fragments: add the "final touch of fantasy"
Structure: Two movements (Vivace [Prelude], Allegro [Corrente])
The Opening Gambit: This first fantasy serves as Telemann's "curtain-raiser," providing his initial example of the compositional element that will recur throughout the set: the theoretically impossible one-voice fugue.
Fugato section: Bars 11-21
Echo masterpiece: Bars 27-31, forte calls with piano echoes
The Vivace toccata contains both rapid detached sections and maestoso material, separated by a fugal entry with 4 subject statements and only 1 answer, plus stretto passage work.
The fugal entry which follows (mm. 11-14) presents a solid 2-bar subject in quarters then eighths, followed almost immediately by a real answer at the upper fifth.
The movement ends on the dominant, creating forward momentum. Features include sixteenth-note units, outstanding Lombardic rhythmic figures, and opposite progressions.
The Allegro Corrente (later called Passepied) offers a simple two-part form with both 2- and 3-bar phrases, subtle ornamental possibilities, and hemiola suggestions.
Performance Notes: The opening benefits from starting deliberately with a fermata, then accelerando to true Vivace in measure 4. The Lombardic figures in mm.5-6 hint at another accelerando rush. The fugal entry demands clear separation of voices through dynamics and articulation. The episode at mm.27-32 with its "adagio allegro" indication brings clear "start-and-stop" echo effects, pure improvisational fantasy elements.
Structure: Introduction plus three movements in fast-slow-fast order (Grave [Introduction], Vivace, Adagio [Aria larga], Allegro [Bourrée]) Church Sonata Form
Fugato Vivace: More directional than Fantasia I, driving through multiple keys
Part-writing imitation: Large leaps in quaver passages suggest multiple instruments
Adagio movement: C major aria, recalls A minor oboe sonata TWV 41:a3
Bourrée finale: Upbeat rhythm, semitonal tension, return to A minor
The Key Shift: Unusually shifts to relative C Major for the Adagio, the only fantasia to change keys mid-stream. The Grave serves as a fantasy/prelude introduction. The Vivace uses AABA form with asymmetrical phrases. The Allegro Bourrée also uses AABA form.
Importance of B minor: Bach Easter Oratorio, Telemann's B minor Method Sonata.
Structure: Two movements (Largo-Vivace [Prelude], Allegro [Gigue]) Capriccio structure: Alternating Largo (reflective) and Vivace (determined)
The Bizarre Element: Features alternating slow maestoso material with extended rapid toccata-like passages featuring wide leaps and intervals, including hints of chromatic glissando. The Gigue uses two-part form constructed in 4-bar phrases with additive bars.
Gigue finale: 6/8 time, contrasts "pointed" and "Lombardic" rhythms
Structure: Three movements in SOLO FORM (Andante, Allegro, Presto [Tambourin])
Polonaise Qualities: The Andante features 10 measures with the last 3 repeated, wide leaping. The Allegro uses ABA form with parallel tenth progressions and rhythmic movement by syncopation. The Presto Tambourin finale uses AABA form.
Polonaise: Triple metre, no upbeat, second beat accent (bar 4)
Presto finale: Quirky common time, possibly Tambourin with drum beat character
Echo effects: Marked throughout final movement
Structure: Three movements (Presto-Largo [Prelude], Allegro [Variation], Allegro [Gigue])
The Canonic Challenge: Alternating Presto-Largo sections with regular 4-bar phrases and 5 modulation statements (C-Am-Dm-Em-C). The second Allegro is a cheeky canonic treatment, Canarie with quasi-Lombardic rhythms and asymmetrical phrases.
Chaconne: 9/8 time, repeating bass line through C-Am-Dm-Em cycle
Canarie finale: Energetic 6/8 with Lombardic snaps, leaping dance character
Structure: Three movements in SOLO FORM (Dolce, Allegro, Spirituoso [Gigue])
The Fugal Cleverness: The Dolce creates two-voice effects via wide intervals. The Allegro features a fugal entry (another "one-voice fugue") with clever false statements. The Spirituoso uses "third" rondo form: A-B-A-C-A-B-A with 6-bar phrases.
Structure: Two movements (Alla francese [French Overture], Presto [Bourrée])
The Impossible Made Real: Complete French Overture structure with traditional double-dotted rhythms and a fugal entry. How do you compose a French overture on solo flute? Through register contrasts, rhythmic patterns suggesting multiple players, strategic silences, and ornamental passages that proclaim orchestral brilliance. The Presto uses "second" rondo form: A-B-A-C-A with 4- and 8-bar phrases.
Structure: Three movements in SOLO FORM (Largo, Spirituoso [Gigue], Allegro)
Rameau's Rule: As Rameau noted, E minor is "never merry, even in allegro." The Largo features parallel tenth progressions in "stretto" manner. The Spirituoso presents theme and 4 modulations with coda. The Allegro uses AABA form with syncopated rhythmic motives.
Structure: Three movements in DANCE SUITE (Affettuoso [Sarabande], Allegro [Corrente], Grave [Recitative]-Vivace [Bourrée])
Fragile Beauty: The Affettuoso Sarabande uses AABA form with tenth and sixth leaping. The faster Italian Allegro Corrente features fugal imitation with Lombardic rhythmic elements. The finale opens with a Grave recitative in tenths, then AABA form Bourrée.
Structure: Three movements in DANCE SUITE (A tempo giusto [Courante], Presto [Bourrée], Moderato [Minuet])
French Sophistication: The French (slower) courante form uses arpeggios and wide leaping sequences in tenths with asymmetrical phrases. The Presto features "fugal imitation" with six statements (F#m-C#m-AM-Bm-F#m-F#m up an octave) and coda. The Moderato Minuet uses two-part form with regular 4-bar phrases.
A tempo giusto Corrente: Most beautiful movement, pays homage to Bach cello suites
Structure: Three movements (Allegro [Toccata], Adagio [Recitative]-Vivace [Fugal Imitation], Allegro [Gigue])
The Slow Gigue Rarity: The Allegro toccata features rapid sixteenth-note texture. The middle movement combines 2-bar Adagio recitative with Vivace fugal imitation (subject stated 5 times with octave leaps and repeated notes). The finale presents a rare slow Gigue in 6/4 metre using two-part form with retrograde rhythm in the return section.
Incomplete bar mystery: Second movement opens with unfinished bar 2
Vivace fugato: Scalic thirds passages
Gigue finale: 6/4 upbeat/downbeat contrast, demands segue to final fantasia
Structure: Two movements (Grave-Allegro/Dolce-Allegro [Fantasy], Presto [Rigaudon])
The Mysterious Ending: Fantasy structure with unrelated toccata section moving through related keys (Gm, Dm) but ending curiously in relative Bb Major, hence "Fantasy" rather than strict formal structure. The Presto Rigaudon uses ABA form (minor-major-minor) with regular 4-bar phrases, intimate moments of thoughtfulness and beatitude.
The violin fantasias, written within a few years of the flute set, offer an extension of Telemann's thought process but with less formal clarity. Basic structures continue (Dance Suite and Solo Form) with two examples of 4-movement fantasias. However, cohesion is often more arbitrary, simply "fantasy-like." Final movements following serious movements are brief and slight, almost "afterthoughts."
Telemann delights in leading us astray by suggesting a form then abandoning it. Whilst the flute fantasias contain a complete French Overture (No.7), the violin fantasias mislead us with an incomplete one (No.2), only two-thirds of what we expect.
No. 1 (Bb Major): Two movements with a Largo Sarabande featuring clear lower voice on bass line, followed by Allegro Toccata-Grave Sarabande-Allegro Da Capo containing both fugal entry with sixteenth-note passage work and slow Sarabande in three-part form.
No. 2 (G Major): That misleading incomplete French Overture followed by Allegro fugal entry with 5 subjects, 2 answers, and 3 kinds of episodes, plus Allegro Gigue with triplet writing giving 6/8 feeling.
No. 3 (F Minor): The unique key signature (F minor with 3 flats), SOLO FORM structure with Adagio Aria larga ending on dominant, Presto fugal entry (5 subjects, no answers), and Grave Recitative-Vivace Corrente where the Grave might function as a cadenza.
No. 4 (D Major): Extended fugal entry with false entry and deceptive cadence, double-dotted Grave with ornamented "coulade," and Allegro Gigue with clear two-part writing in AABA form.
No. 5 (A Major): Allegro-Presto containing both Toccata and Fugal Entry sections, followed by Andante Recitative with dominant ending leading to delightful dance section.
No. 6 (E Minor): Four-movement structure with Grave Sarabande (2 subjects, 2 tonal answers), Presto fugal entry (subjects and counter-subjects stated 7 times simultaneously), Siciliana two-part form, and Allegro Bourrée with Major and minor sections.
No. 10 (D Major): The most flute-friendly, especially the beautiful Sarabande slow movement that falls completely within flute range with deceptive cadence, plus Presto fugal entry and Allegro Gigue with fifths and twelfths leaping.
Here is where matters become genuinely interesting. These fantasias were not merely composed pieces to be performed note-perfectly. They were improvisational models. C.P.E. Bach, Tomás de Santa María, and others described fantasias as subjects for improvisation. This adds another layer to understanding why Telemann's works are so structurally sophisticated: they served as templates for the complete musician.
The Educational Matrix: Multiple sources suggest these fantasias had didactic purposes similar to Bach's Two and Three-part Inventions. Barthold Kuijken speculated about pedagogical intentions "not alone to have good inventions, but to develop the same well, and above all to arrive at a singing style in playing and at the same time to acquire a stronger foretaste of composition." They constitute compositional training for solo instruments.
The Lateinschule Connection: Most German Lutheran musicians attended church-affiliated schools where music and rhetoric were taught together. This explains the sophisticated integration of these disciplines in the fantasias. They were not merely musical exercises but training in persuasive communication through sound.
Partimento Influence: The Italian teaching method of improvising over bass patterns influenced German practice. Students learned composition through improvisation, not the other way round. The harmonies we analysed earlier? They were learned as flexible patterns, not rigid structures.
Telemann makes sparing use of dynamic markings, but those occurring illustrate clear differences and serve as guides for unmarked passages. The few markings he provides are like breadcrumbs leading through the interpretive forest.
Given the "fantasy" ethic, a degree of flexibility can be entertained. For violin adaptations, common sense applies where material is too involved for unreasonably rapid indications. The illusion of speed is better served by clarity of execution than strict metronome adherence.
The continuous motion allows few natural points of repose. Respiration must be taken on the fly at fleeting cadences whilst maintaining structural integrity of fugal statements. This demands both technical mastery and musical intelligence.
For contemporary performers, these works demand more than technical ability. They require historical imagination:
Tempo Concepts: Prioritise character over speed. Understand that Vivace means "alive," not necessarily "fast."
Articulation Techniques: Change with musical context. Sharp, detached bowing for Allegro; sustained, married-to-the-string for Adagio.
Stylistic Awareness: Understand what makes French music French (dance-derived, ornamental, elegant) and Italian music Italian (serious, contrapuntal, virtuosic).
Instrumental Sensitivity: Period performance practices matter. The one-keyed flute's acoustic idiosyncrasies were not limitations. They were expressive tools.
Interpretive Flexibility: Within historically informed frameworks. Rules existed to be intelligently broken.
At the time, the Suite was a favourite musical form. The Fantasy, which is a kind of suite, has informal order including elements like Prelude, Fugal Entry or Fugal Imitation, and dance forms. Composers often used dance forms with free variation so performers could "improvise" to an extent.
Telemann used unidentified dance forms as final movements of all flute fantasias except No.8. Identifying these forms helps their characteristics find their way into interpretation. Each dance type carries its own rhythmic DNA, its own emotional fingerprint.
Telemann's effective use of "Solo Form" appears throughout both sets. This structure, popular in the period, provided a flexible framework for extended single-voice composition whilst maintaining coherent large-scale organisation.
Two and three-part forms are the norm. Structures are simple and clear throughout, but do not mistake simplicity for lack of sophistication. Like a master chef using few ingredients to create complex flavours, Telemann achieves maximum effect with minimal formal apparatus.
Contrapuntal elements, both strict and suggested, are common compositional features. The illusion of two-part writing is both skilful and convincing. But how do you write a fugue for one voice? Through:
Strategic register placement suggesting different voices
Rhythmic displacement creating temporal separation
Harmonic implication through arpeggiation
Motivic transformation suggesting answer relationships
Stretto effects through compressed time intervals
Telemann's preference for sharp keys in the flute fantasias was not arbitrary. Sharp keys provide strong resonant notes for primary harmonies (tonic, dominant, subdominant) on the one-keyed flute, whilst flat keys place these crucial notes in the instrument's weaker tonal areas.
Constant modulation serves dual purposes: structural variety and timbral transformation. On period flutes, moving from one key to another literally changes the instrument's colour palette. A single accidental can shift the entire emotional landscape.
French Ornamentation: Like jewellery. Beautiful, precise, enhancing but never overwhelming the basic structure. Includes specific ornaments with established meanings and executions.
Italian Ornamentation: More improvisational, emotional, often melismatic. Designed to showcase vocal-style expression and technical brilliance.
German Ornamentation: Governed by harmonic considerations, emphasising structural clarity whilst allowing expressive freedom within controlled parameters.
Binary dance movements with repeats invite ornamentation, but the key is restraint. Start plain, add decoration in repeats, then return to simplicity. The music should never disappear under ornamental excess.
These fantasias did not merely expand the solo repertoire. They redefined what solo wind and string instruments could accomplish. They proved that harmonic thinking could be embedded in melodic lines, that single voices could suggest multiple parts, that technical limitations could become expressive opportunities.
The techniques Telemann developed (implied harmony, register-based voice leading, rhythmic displacement creating contrapuntal effects) influenced generations of composers writing for solo instruments. From Bach's later solo works to contemporary unaccompanied pieces, Telemann's innovations echo through centuries.
Three hundred years later, these works remain as challenging and rewarding as when they were written. They demand complete musicianship: technical facility, historical understanding, interpretive imagination, and the conviction to make bold artistic choices.
For performers, they offer the rare opportunity to be both soloist and ensemble, melody and harmony, technical display and intimate expression. They prove that the greatest art often comes from working within constraints rather than having unlimited resources.
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