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The Replica Hotteterre Flutes in Berlin and St Petersburg
by Ardal Powell
Word count:2600. Download size (text only) 19,000
bytes. This article first appeared in TRAVERSO,
Vol. 8 No. 3 (July 1996).
© 1996, 1997, Ardal
Powell. First Published 1996.
The credo of today's baroque flutists
holds that three "Hotteterre" flutes, in museums in
Berlin, St Petersburg and Graz, are the earliest baroque
flutes in existence. But I have recently discovered--to
my great surprise--that two of these three flutes belong
to a group of six replicas made during the past hundred
years or more, all based on an original lost in or before
the 1870s.
I present the evidence for this view in an
article published in the summer issue of the Journal
of the American Musicological Society (Vol. 49
(1996), pp. 225-263). This shows how in the past fifty
years a myth has grown up that the three-joint, conical-bored
"baroque" flute was invented all of a sudden by members
of the Hotteterre family connected with the French court.
In fact, there has never been any real evidence for
this view, and we now know enough to make the supposition
seem highly unlikely. Nevertheless, the three "Hotteterre"
flutes have made their own snowballing contribution
to the myth, even though the only original one is the
Graz example, which only became widely known in the
1970s. In my JAMS essay I show how claims on
behalf of the Hotteterres have grown, illustrating the
ways in which collectors, scholars and instrument-makers
interpreted and wrote about the replicas and their supposed
makers. I discuss the verifiable
history of eight "Hotteterre"-type flutes, including
the six copies (Table I), and by
comparing their provenance, design and manufacture,
I describe the chain of replication and re-replication
linking the copies together (Table II). Finally, I propose
that the evidence we have about seventeenth-century
developments in the flute sketches out a far more complex
picture than we previously imagined, in which northern
Italy, southern France and the Netherlands are seriously
under-represented by current knowledge.
As everyone can find a copy of my JAMS article
in their nearest music library, I do not propose to
repeat that material here. Instead I shall try to answer
the more personal question flutists are asking me most
frequently these days: How did you come to make this
surprising discovery? The answer covers a period of
fourteen months, during most of which I had the great
good fortune to hold a study Fellowship from the National
Endowment for the Humanities. This allowed me to
take a leave of absence from my everyday work as a flutemaker
to travel and work in the library.
The story begins in March 1993, when Cathy Folkers
and I were in Germany to show Folkers
& Powell flutes at an exhibition in Frankfurt.
At the time, I was interested in the flutes used by
players in Bach's circle (see Ardal Powell with David
Lasocki, `Bach and the Flute: The Players, the Instruments,
the Music', Early Music 23.1 (February 1995),
9-29). These three-joint and early four-joint flutes
are rare, and so we had decided to go on to Leipzig
after the show to study the unique
flute by Eichentopf in the Bachmuseum there (TRAVERSO
5.3 (July 1993), 3). I had known since the previous
fall that my NEH Fellowship would begin later in 1993.
The grant, to study the surviving flutes by Tromlitz
and make a translation of his 1800 keyed flute tutor,
would take me to St Petersburg, Russia, home to the
surviving Tromlitz flute most like the one described
in the tutor. I realised that I would have the chance
at the same time to see the St Petersburg Hotteterres
(one signed, the other unsigned), and furthermore that
in between points on my "Tromlitz" tour it might be
possible to study most if not all of the other three-joint
flutes in existence. So our visit to Germany that March
semed like a good time to re-visit the Staatliches Institut
für Muskforschung, Preußischer Kulturbesitz,
and begin by examining their Hotteterre flute.
Cathy and I had seen the flute only through a glass
case before, and were looking forward to the opportunity
to inspect it more closely. We already had a number
of questions to answer. Its rather large, oval embouchure
seemed like that of a nineteenth-century French flute--but
was there any chance it was original? If not, had all
traces of the original work been destroyed, or could
we find clues to help reconstruct the dimensions? In
a measured drawing made ten years before, Canadian maker
Jean-François Beaudin had expressed the opinion
that the embouchure ought to be 9.1mm. round, with straight
walls. But we had recently seen the unaltered Anonymous
flute in a Stuttgart private collection, and become
aware that not all three-joint flutes should
necessarily have a straight-walled embouchure; while
drawings, photographs and moldings sent us by the owner
of a Leclerc flute in a private collection in Brazil
convinced us that the embouchure need not be particularly
small either. Had Beaudin formed his opinion from evidence
in the instrument, or was it just a guess? Notes by
previous students of the flute in the museum's files
provided no answers: indeed the very authenticity of
the flute had been questioned by one researcher before
us.
Our skepticism was therefore already aroused when the
curator, Tom Lerch, brought the instrument into the
study room where we were waiting. We are always conscious
of the privilege of working with rare originals in institutions
like the Berlin museum, but all is not reverence and
seriousness on these occasions--with Tom especially
there was usually a two-way traffic of good-natured
banter. So I thought Cathy was joking when I heard her
tell Tom, "Take this away and bring us the real
Hotteterre flute"--but as usual her instincts had gone
right to the heart of the matter. Concrete observations
confirmed the sense that everything was not as it seemed:
the unusual shiny varnish on the outside surface; the
fact that even under magnification the embouchure gave
no indication that it had ever been altered, its edges
all in perfect condition and equally worn. We noted
that the flute came from the Belgian collector César
Charles Snoeck in 1902, and left Berlin feeling puzzled.
I traveled alone to St Petersburg in October 1993,
allowing nearly a month in the city to study the Musical
Instrument Museum's flutes (see TRAVERSO
5.4 (November 1993), 1-4). I noted of No. 471, the flute
marked HOTTETERRE, its shiny varnish and sharp edges,
and the fact that the mark was scratched in
the wood, not stamped. The most disturbing fact was
that the area around the D# tonehole, where the key
closes on the wood, was not the usual rectangular shape,
but had a curved vertical wall at the lower end, and
concentric circular scratches in the key-seat. There
could be only one interpretation: that the key-seat
had been made with a machine tool, not with a file in
the normal way. No. 472, an unstamped and unmounted
fruitwood flute, had the same feature. I observed that
this flute "looks and smells about a year old . . .
[with] no wear anywhere." The key-flaps of No. 472 had
been bent over a cross-cut file instead of a vise jaw
or bending jig. I had little doubt that this flute was
a copy, but when I discussed the matter with Felix Ravdonikas,
who as a St Peterburg resident and flutemaker had known
both instruments for many years, he was conviced that
No. 472 was genuine and No. 471 was the copy!
Still in an undecided frame of mind, I spent some time
early in 1994 in the Dayton C. Miller Collection at
the Library of Congress, Washington DC. One of the 74
flutes I studied during that visit was Miller's Hotteterre
replica. In 1924, Miller, a keen enthusiast for all
aspects of the flute, had arranged for a copy to be
made for his collection of No. 3131 in the Brussels
Musical Instruments Museum. As Miller knew, The Brussels
flute is itself a copy of the Hotteterre flute
that belonged to Snoeck, which, according to the Berlin
museum catalog, that institution had purchased in 1902.
Or had it? In the same year another group of Snoeck
instruments had been sold to St Petersburg--among it,
according to then Brussels curator Victor-Charles Mahillon,
the instrument that was the model for Brussels 3131--now
known as St Petersburg 471. Upstairs from the Miller
Collection in the Music Division reading room, I finally
got my hands on a copy of Snoeck's own catalog of his
collection (1894), which had been removed from the stacks
for repairs at my "home" library, the New
York Public Library at Lincoln Center. If I hoped
the catalog would help untangle the question of how
many "Hotteterre" flutes Snoeck had owned, I was disappointed:
it listed only one, No. 670, the one duly listed in
Berlin as No. 2670. Yet somehow, both Berlin
and St Petersburg had acquired what they believed to
be a genuine original instrument.
Miller's correspondence files about his Hotteterre
copy contained interesting clues to the apparent mix-up.
I wrote to Ignace De Keyser, First Assistant at the
Brussels museum, to make an appointment to visit and
to ask for clarification of some points in a letter
from Mahillon to Miller. His reply provided, as an added
bonus, the name of the man who had made Brussels 3131:
Franz De Vestibule.
At this stage I was still not sure whether or not Snoeck,
Mahillon and I had ever seen an original Hotteterre
flute, and if we had, how we would know the difference.
In the month following my Miller Collection visit, on
the way to Vienna for more Tromlitz studies, I broke
my journey in Graz to inspect the Hotteterre flute there.
Although the instrument had been measured before and
the museum's policy forbade repeating the work, I convinced
the authorities of my need to answer certain specific
questions about the flute, and was allowed to proceed.
It was immediately clear that everything about this
flute was different from the others: materials, turning
style, finish, acoustical design, tonehole and embouchure
undercutting, key and spring design and materials, and
most notably for me as a flutist, playing qualities.
Re-visiting the anonymous three-joint flute of "Hotteterre"
type in a private collection in Stuttgart later the
same month, I was struck by its similarities to the
Graz flute even though its measurements differed in
several important respects.
By April 1994 I had seen all the "original" Hotteterre
flutes and read every authoritative word ever written
about them and their supposed or actual makers. I had
also investigated some early replicas, found out who
had made them, when, and from what models. But although
I had gathered a great deal of information I felt it
was still too soon to try to unpick the knot of problems
still unresolved. Two more replicas remained: Brussels
3131 (the model for Miller's copy), and the one in the
museum at La Couture-Boussey, Normandy. In conversation
with the woodwind expert Dr Albert R. Rice of the Claremont
Colleges in California, I had learned of a document
at the La Couture museum which contained the history
of the collection. This indicated that most of the instruments
in the museum were copies made by La Couture craftsmen
in the late nineteenth century.
When in April I studied the Hotteterre replica Brussels
3131, made by Franz De Vestibule at the direction of
Mahillon, its quality of workmanship did not lead me
to expect a very high standard from the La Couture instruments.
However the Brussels flute provided more grist for the
mills: its key-seat was made with a machine tool, and
its finish and edges were quite similar to those of
the St Petersburg and Miller instruments. Continuing
on to La Couture, I was joined by Parisian flutist and
maker Philippe Allain-Dupré. The craft of woodwind-making
has been the lifeblood of La Couture for centuries,
and the administration of its museum is a sort of department
of the town government. The genial M. Nedé showed
us around: the Hotteterre flute was plainly a copy--as
its mint condition, sharp edges and shiny varnish attested--but
it was remarkably similar to the Berlin flute, particularly
in the quality of the wood, the style of the ivory turning,
and the rectangular, flat key-seat. According to M.
Nedé it had been believed original and used as
the nucleus of the museum when it was formed in 1888.
The document on the museum's history Dr Rice had told
me about was a gold-mine of information, indicating
that La Couture workmen had borrowed instruments from
Snoeck to copy for the museum, of which Snoeck, Mahillon
and other significant figures had been founder-members.
With that, I had gathered all the pieces I knew the
puzzle contained, and it was time to see if they would
fit together. Later, in the seclusion of my train compartment,
I turned on my trusty laptop computer and assembled
a chronology of the facts I had discovered, noting its
gaps. I could confidently finger only two instruments
as originals: the Graz and Stuttgart flutes, of which
the latter was unmarked. Among the replicas, there were
two kinds: those made in Brussels (by De Vestibule for
Mahillon and by Albert for Miller) and La Couture. The
La Couture copies likewise fell into two groups, each
with shared characteristics of finish and workmanship:
one group contained the La Couture and Berlin flutes,
the other the two St Petersburg examples. Combining
this information with what I had read about the growing
myth of the "Hotteterre flute", I gradually formed a
hypothesis as to what had happened.
At some time around the middle of the nineteenth century
an original Hotteterre flute, in boxwood with large
ivory mounts, became known to one or more of the woodwind-makers
of La Couture. At least two copies (Berlin and La Couture)
were made, before all three instruments disappeared.
During the 1870s Snoeck heard of one (the Berlin example),
and managed to buy it for his collection in the belief
that it was original. The flute soon became known in
the close circles of those interested in historical
woodwinds, and in 1877 Mahillon had a copy of Snoeck's
flute made for the new Brussels museum. About a decade
later the other copy resurfaced in La Couture and sparked
the creation of the museum there. A wave of copying
activity followed, doubtless including the making of
more replicas of Snoeck's instrument, some of which
(St Petersburg 471 and 472) remained in his collection.
When he died his collection was found to contain three
"Hotteterre" flutes, two of them signed. Either by accident
or design whoever dispersed it sent one signed flute
to Berlin and the other to St Petersburg. Finally a
copy of the Brussels copy was made for Miller in 1924.
This theory fit all the known facts and provided plausible
bridges over areas where my knowledge did not amount
to much. My next task was to explain it so that others
would be able to follow the argument and be convinced
by the line of reasoning I had taken. I invite you to
read the article and judge for yourself. Members of
the American Musicological Society will see the summer
issue of JAMS in their mailboxes soon. Non-members
can find it in the music library by the end of the summer.
For those who don't know where the nearest music library
is--there is still time to find out in the next few
weeks!
Author's Note: Since this article
was published, another original Hotteterre flute has
come to light. See the 
Hotteterre
home page for details.
| LOCATION/MATERIALS |
PROVENANCE |
|
| Graz, Landesmuseum Johanneum
No. 08447*1384 |
Ebony, ivory, silver |
Ex coll. Hans Sowinsky, 1935 |
| Stuttgart, Private Collection |
Rosewood, ivory, silver |
Present owner from London dealer Tony Bingham, 1980 |
| Berlin, Staatliches Institut
für Musikforschung, No. 2670 |
Boxwood, ivory, silver |
Ex. coll. Snoeck, 1902 [Copy, La Couture, c.1850) |
| La Couture, Museum of
Musical Instruments, No. 11 |
Boxwood, ivory, silver |
Copy, La Couture, [c.1850] |
| Brussels, Museum of Musical
Instruments |
Light wood, ivory, silver |
Copy by De Vestibule, c.1877 |
| St Petersburg, Musical
Instruments Museum, No. 471 |
Boxwood, ivory, silver |
Ex coll. Snoeck, 1902? [Copy, La Couture, c.1890] |
| St Petersburg, Musical
Instruments Museum, No. 472 |
Fruitwood, silver |
Ex coll. Snoeck, 1902? [Copy, La Couture, c.1890] |
| Dayton C. Miller Collection,
Library of Congress, Washington DC, No. 428 |
Light wood, ivory, silver |
Copy by Eugène-Joseph Albert, 1924 |
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