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University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
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The German reception of Christoph Willibald Ritter von Gluck in the early nineteenth century
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The German reception of Christoph Willibald Ritter von Gluck in the early nineteenth century
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THE GERMAN RECEPTION OF CHRISTOPH WILLIBALD RITTER VON GLUCK IN THE EARLY NINETEENTH CENTURY by Eric Olds Schneeman A Dissertation Presented to the Faculty of the USC GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (HISTORICAL MUSICOLOGY) August 2013 Copyright 2013 Eric Olds Schneeman ii CONTENTS List of Tables iii List of Illustrations iv List of Music Examples v Acknowledgements ix Abstract x Introduction: Previous Research and Critical Framework for the Reception History of Christoph Gluck’s Operas 1 Previous Research on Gluck Reception in the 19th Century 2 Theoretical Framework 8 Scope 22 Chapter One: The State of Gluck’s Operas in the First Half of the Nineteenth Century on the German Stage 25 18th-Century Changes to Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice 28 1808: Orpheus und Eurydice in Berlin 37 1818: Orpheus und Eurydice in Berlin 45 Set Designs for Orpheus 77 Orpheus and Orfeo in Berlin 79 Instrumentation 82 Ballets 97 Gluck and Ceremony in Vienna and Berlin 115 1809: Iphigenia in Aulis 123 1817: Alceste 131 Set Designs for Alceste 147 1842: Centennial Celebration of the Hofoper 149 1848: Alceste and the Counter-Revolution 155 Chapter Two: The fremdartige Ballet and Berlin’s Gluck-Pflege in the Era of Gaspare Spontini 167 Gluck and Marx’s Berliner Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung 171 The fremdartige Ballet and the Revival of Armide in 1837 227 Chapter Three: Christoph Gluck and Künstlernovelle during the Biedermeier Period 281 Johann Friedrich Reichardt and Kant’s Genius 286 iii E. T. A. Hoffmann 291 Gluck the German 300 Gluck and Méhul: Gluck the Teacher 310 Gluck against the Italians 326 Künstlernovelle and Nostalgia 344 Conclusion: Gluck’s Monument 355 Bibliography 369 Appendices Appendix A: Various Performance Markings on Manuscripts in the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin–Musikabteilung 395 Appendix B: Peter Winter’s instrumentation for Iphigenia in Aulis (1821), at the Residenztheater, Munich, in manuscripts D-Mbs St. th. 66-10 and D-Mbs St. th. 66-1 399 LIST OF TABLES Table 1.1: Dances performed during Orpheus (1808), at the Nationaltheater, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7793/3 42 Table 1.2: Ballets from act 3, finale, Orpheus (1818), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. anon. 201 75 Table 1.3: Gluck’s operas performed during royal celebrations in Berlin from 1807 to 1848 120 Table 1.4: Ballets from act 2 and 3, Alceste (1817), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B. Mus. ms. 7798/2 142 iv LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Figure 1.1: Anton de Pian’s set design for act 1 of Iphigenia auf Tauris (1807), at the Kärnthnerthor Theater, Vienna 113 Figure 1.3a: Karl Schinkel’s design for Apollo’s Temple, act 1, sc. 3-7, Alceste (1817), at the Hofoper, Berlin 148 Figure 1.3b: Friedrich Gilly’s design for the Frederick the Great Monument 149 Figure 2.1a: Karl Schinkel’s decorations for the open plaza in Damascus act 1 from Armide (1820), at the Hofoper, Berlin, figures from Ulrike Harten and Helmut Börsch-Supan, Die Bühnenentwürfe, Karl Schinkels Lebenswerk (Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlage, 2000) 230 Figure 2.1b: Magical Garden in act 2, sc. 3 from Armide (1820), at the Hofoper, Berlin, figures from Ulrike Harten and Helmut Börsch-Supan, Die Bühnenentwürfe, Karl Schinkels Lebenswerk (Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlage, 2000) 230 Figure 2.1c: Armide’s palatial room in act 5 from Armide (1820), at the Hofoper, Berlin, figures from Ulrike Harten and Helmut Börsch-Supan, Die Bühnenentwürfe, Karl Schinkels Lebenswerk (Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlage, 2000) 231 Figure 2.2: Trombone line in the overture to Armide (1845?), in D-Dl Mus. ms. 3030-F-64b 239 Figure A.1: Hand of the first Berlin copyist, as given in the violin 2, viola, and basslines to the overture to Alceste (1817), in D-B Mus. ms. 7798/2 395 Figure A.2: Hand of the second Berlin copyist, as given in the violin 2, viola, and bass lines to the first ballet in act 2 of Alceste (1817), in D-B Mus. ms. 7798/2 395 Figure A.3: B. A. Weber’s markings from Alceste (1817), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7798/2 396 Figure A.4: B. A. Weber’s markings in “Ewig werd’ an dir ich hangen!” from Orpheus (1818), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7793/17 396 v Figure A.5: Possibly George Abraham Schneider’s “Pas No. 1 zu Armide,” possibly used for performances from 1805 to 1837, at the Nationaltheater and Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7808/5 397 Figure A.6: George Schneider’s markings from Alceste (1821), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7798/2 398 Figure A.7: Wilhelm Taubert’s markings from Alceste (1848), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7798/2 398 LIST OF MUSIC EXAMPLES Music Example 1.1: “Quel audace, ch’ardisce,” from act 1, sc. 3, Orfeo (1773), Munich, in D-Dl Mus. ms. 3030-F-13 33 Music Example 1.2a: “Chiari fonti,” mm. 9-12, from act 2, sc. 1, Orfeo, London (1770) and Munich (1773), in D-Dl Mus. ms. 3030-F-13 35 Music Example 1.2b: “Chiari fonti,” mm. 47-52, from act 2, sc. 1, Orfeo, London (1770) and Munich (1773), in D-Dl Mus. ms. 3030-F-13 35 Music Example 1.3: Ballet from Écho et Narcisse performed in Orpheus (1808), at the Nationaltheater, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7793/3 43 Music Example 1.4: “Ballet de Plaisèrs-Musette” in Orpheus (1808), at the Nationaltheater, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7793/3 44 Music Example 1.5: Four-measure transition after Eros’s aria “Mit Freuden den Willen” from act 1, sc.2, Orpheus (1854?), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B N. Mus. ms. 10.251 48 Music Example 1.6: “Du schönes Land voll Ruh’ und Glück” from act 2, sc. 2, Orpheus (1818), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7793/35 55 Music Example 1.7: “Du schönes Land,” mm. 25-35, from act 2, sc. 2, Orpheus (1818), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7793/35 58 vi Music Example 1.8: “Der Gott von Paphos und Cythere,” chorus with first and second violins, from act 3, finale, Orpheus (1818), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. anon. 201 61 Music Example 1.9a: “Tendre Amour” from act 3, sc. 3, Orphée (1774), Académie Royale de Musique, Paris, example from Wotquenne, Catalogue thématique 67 Music Example 1.9b: “Ewig werd’ an dir ich hangen!” from act 3, finale, Orpheus (1818) at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7793/35 69 Music Example 1.10: March by Joseph Weigl, the chorus “Festlich mit frohem Gesange,” and the aria “Blümchen der Aue” by B. A. Weber, act 1, Richard Coeur-de-Lion (1809), at the Nationaltheater, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 8519 71 Music Example 1.11a: Gluck’s original orchestration for act 2, sc. 8, Iphigénie en Aulide, (1774), Académie Royale de Musique, Paris, in Sämtliche Werke 86 Music Example 1.11b: Gluck’s revised orchestration for act 2, sc. 8, Iphigénie en Aulide, (1775), Académie Royale de Musique, Paris, in Sämtliche Werke 87 Music Example 1.11c: Peter Winter’s reorchestration of act 2, sc. 8, Iphigenia in Aulis (1816), at Residenztheater, Munich, in D-Mbs St-th. 66-10 88 Music Example 1.12: Armide, act 2, sc. 2, “Der Rachlust nächtliche Geister” in D-Dl Mus. ms. 3030-F-64b (1845?) 90 Music Example 1.13: “Die Göttin nahet selbst,” mm. 75-87, from act 3, finale, Iphigenia in Aulis (1847), Wagner’s adaptation for the Dresden Hofoper, from the Richard Wagner Sämtliche Werke. 92 Music Example 1.14: Double bass part for act 3, finale, Alceste (1834), at the Hoftheater, Weimar, in WRdn-DNT 206 98 Music Example 1.15: New ballet in act 2, sc. 2, Iphigenia in Aulis (1808), at the Kärnthnerthor Theater, Vienna, in A-Wn K. T. 226 100 vii Music Example 1.16a: March from act 1, sc. 3, Armide (1808), at the Kärnthnerthor Theater, Vienna, A-Wn K. T. 40 102 Music Example 1.16b: B section of the March from act 1, sc. 3, Armide (1808), at the Kärnthnerthor Theater, Vienna, A-Wn K. T. 40 102 Music Example 1.17: Pas de deux from act 1, sc. 3, Armide (1808), at the Kärnthnerthor Theater, Vienna, A-Wn K. T. 40 103 Music Example 1.18a: Additional contrabassoon part in the overture to Alceste (1848), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7798/2 139 Music Example 1.18b: Instrumental interlude for act 3, sc. 6 Alceste (1858) at the Hoftheater, Weimar, in D-WRdn DNT 206 140 Music Example 1.19: Ballet, mm.110-2, for the Silver Wedding Anniversary Celebration, performed after Alceste (1848), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7798/20 160 Music Example 2.1: Measures 103-106, “O faretrato Apolline col chiaro tuo splendor” from the chorus “Dilegua il nero turbine che freme altrono intorno” (translated: “aus der Nacht strahl’ ihm noch der Tag dem guten großen Heldensohne”) act 1, sc. 3, Alceste, example from BamZ. 183 Music Example 2.2: “Quel d’attraits, que de majesté,” act 1, sc. 6, Iphigénie en Aulide example from the BamZ. 204 Music Example 2.3a: “Que d’attraits, que de majesté” from act 1, sc. 6, Iphigénie en Aulide (1774), example from Wotquenne, Catalogue thématique, page 108. 205 Music Example 2.3b: “Contemplez ces tristes” from act 2, sc. 6, Iphigénie en Tauride (1779), example from Wotquenne, Catalogue thématique, page 143 205 Music Example 2.4: “Agamemnon,” m. 38, mm. 40-41, from act 2, sc. 5, Iphigénie en Tauride (1779), Académie Royale de Musique, Paris, in Sämtliche Werke 211 Music Example 2.5: “Unis dès la plus tendre enfance,” act 2, sc. 2, Iphigénie en Tauride, from BamZ 223 viii Music Example 2.6: “Pas No. 1 zu Armide,” mm. 1-5, mm. 43-52, possibly by George Abraham Schneider for performances of Armide from 1805 to 1837, at the Nationaltheater and Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7808/5 245 Music Example 2.7: Transitional figure at the end of the overture to Armide (1777), Académie Royale de Musique, Paris, in Sämtliche Werke 253 ix ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS A very special thanks goes to my advisor Dr. Bruce Alan Brown, who oversaw this dissertation from its beginning stages through its completion. A research grant from the Deutscher Akademischer Austauschdienst in 2010 enabled me to visit libraries in Berlin and Munich. I would particularly like to thank the staff of the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin–Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Musikabteilung mit Mendelssohn-Archiv for their help. I am also grateful to Dr. Anne Desler for translating certain passages of German text and for editing my translations. My parents, Barbara and Paul, provided me with the encouragement and support that I needed to survive graduate school. Above all, I would like to thank my wife, Katie, for her endless support, encouragement, and patience throughout this process. And to my son, Bennett, thank you for taking naps when your dad needed to write. x ABSTRACT Performances of operas by Christoph Willibald Gluck (1714-1787) were particularly frequent in the German-speaking area of Europe during the early 19th century, constituting what might be called a Gluck-Pflege. For the most part, past writings on this subject have lacked discussion of the revisions opera companies made to Gluck’s operas and the impact these changes would have had upon critics’ and audiences’ perceptions of the composer and his works. Just as opera houses strayed farther from Gluck’s original scores, writers similarly manipulated and mythologized Gluck’s biography in order to portray a composer bent on reforming the opera world and offering a new path for younger opera composers. In particular, 19th-century writers dramatized the role he played in the Querelle des Gluckistes et des Piccinnistes, in which Gluck, an uncompromising German composer (his upbringing was in fact Bohemian), transformed French opera by creating unified works of art by adhering to his true artistic principles. Whereas previous scholarship mostly dismissed these stories because of their historical inaccuracies, I will use these accounts to illuminate critics’ perceptions of Gluck as an alternative to the prevailing popularity of French and Italian grand opera and as a beacon to young German composers in their search for a new and original direction in opera. The first chapter will address the changes made to Gluck’s operas for productions in the early part of the 19th century. The chapter will initially focus on the Munich staging of Orfeo ed Euridice in 1773 and then on Berlin’s versions of Orpheus und Eurydice in 1808 and 1818. My purpose in making such a comparison is to investigate xi the degree of continuity between 18th- and 19th-century practices in adapting Gluck’s operas for the stage. In the second chapter, I will reevaluate the overarching Gluck-Pflege in Berlin during the era of Spontini’s directorship. By examining the writings about Gluck by A. B. Marx, Ludwig Rellstab and other critics, I will demonstrate the multifaceted nature of the city’s Gluck-Pflege. Though Marx and others boasted of Berlin’s cultivation and appreciation of the Classical canon, they noticed that audiences were turning away from the works of Mozart and Gluck and embracing the newer operas of Rossini, Bellini, and Meyerbeer. In 1837, these concerns over Berlin’s changing musical landscape came to the fore when Spontini conducted Armide at the Hofoper. For many critics, changes to Gluck’s score and poor performances by the singers represented a deterioration in the city’s Classical heritage and culture. In the third chapter, I will discuss fictional treatments of Gluck’s biography and persona, paying particular attention to Johann Lyser’s “Gluck in Paris,” which first appeared in Schumann’s Neue Zeitschrift für Musik. This and a majority of other fictional accounts about Gluck were intended for the growing mass market and would therefore contribute to the public’s perception of the composer. My conclusion illuminates the thread that runs throughout the reception of Gluck’s music from the late 18th century through to the 19th century. Repeatedly, Gluck’s operatic works (especially his reform and Paris operas) are upheld as a model for aspiring–specifically German–composers. 1 INTRODUCTION: PREVIOUS RESEARCH AND CRITICAL FRAMEWORK FOR THE RECEPTION HISTORY OF CHRISTOPH GLUCK The afterlife of Gluck and Mozart is remarkable when one considers that so many of their 18th-century contemporaries fell into oblivion, to be resurrected here and there only as historical artifacts. 1 The continued presence of an 18th-century composer’s operas upon the 19th-century stage appears incongruous within the context of 19th- century audiences’ fascination with the newer styles of Rossini and Meyerbeer. 2 As Carl Dahlhaus notes, “nineteenth-century opera seria, even when performed in court theaters, was primarily aimed at the bourgeois audience in the stalls as its ‘taste-bearing stratum.’” 3 With Gluck’s works performed for these same audiences in the 19th century, a question emerges about the overall perception of the composer and his works: did 19th- century critics and audiences receive Gluck’s operas as similar or antithetical to the newer works of Rossini and his contemporaries? 1 Carl Dahlhaus, Foundations of Music History, trans. J. Bradford Robinson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 19-33. Carl Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, trans. J. Bradford Robinson (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989), 32; Karl Wörner, “Die Pflege Glucks an der Berliner Oper von 1795-1841,” Zeitschrift für Musikwissenschaft 13 (1930-31): 206-16; Helmut Kirchmeyer, Situationsgeschichte der Musikkritik und des musikalischen Pressewesens in Deutschland, IV Teil: Das zeitgenössische Wagner-Bild, vol. 4, Wagner in Dresden (Regensburg: Gustav Bosse, 1967), 709-30. 2 This assessment is fully characterized in Dahlhaus’s Nineteenth-Century Music, 8-15, and then in greater detail in “Rossini and the Restoration” (57-64) and “The Dramaturgy of Grand Opera” (124-34). Roger Parker’s historiography of early 19th-century opera raises similar concerns, while taking a more contextual and gentler approach in “The Opera Industry,” in The Cambridge History of Nineteenth-Century Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 2002), 87-117. 3 Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, 45. For further discussion of the “Biedermeier taste” in music beyond Dahlhaus’s assessment, see Kenneth DeLong, “The Convention of Musical Biedermeier,” in Convention in Eighteenth- and Nineteenth-Century Music: Essays in honor of Leonard G. Ratner, ed. Wye Jamison Allanbrook, Janet Levy and William Mahrt (Stuyvesant, NY: Pendragon Press, 1992), 195-223. For a broader discussion of the historical and cultural trends throughout the Biedermeier period, see Friedrich Sengle’s Biedermeierzeit: Deutsche Literatur im Spannungsfeld zwischen Restauration und Revolution 1815-1848 (Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler, 1971-1980) and Virgil Nemoianu’s The Taming of the Romanticism: European Literature and the Age of Biedermeier. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Univ. Press, 1984). 2 In order to answer this question, other questions must also be asked. Did Gluck’s works themselves change—did opera houses make significant cuts, revisions, and additions to his works? Or did the perception of Gluck’s works change—did 19th- century critics perceive them as representative of a Classical or Romantic aesthetic? 4 Or was it a combination of the two; that is, did concrete changes to Gluck’s operas on the stage affect the overall perception of his works? Furthermore, why did the his operas remain on the stage of European opera houses and within the critical discourse throughout the 19th century when so many of his contemporaries’ operas vanished? This dissertation will attempt to answer such questions by providing representative examples and analysis of 19th-century performance materials, reviews, and analyses. I will show that with the continued presence of Gluck’s operas on the German stage, an overarching discourse evolved in the 19th century that 1) tried to understand and present Gluck’s operas as closed, exegetical texts; 2) encouraged young composers to learn from and use his operas as a model for dramatic music; 3) questioned the relevancy of his works in the 19th century; and 4) manipulated his works and biography in order to align the 18th-century composer with 19th-century philosophical, political, and aesthetic ideologies. Previous Research on Gluck Reception in the 19th Century The bulk of recent reception history surrounding Gluck focuses on Berlioz’s writings about the composer and his revisions of Orphée et Eurydice and Alceste for 4 My questions could also be restructured to fall under Dahlhaus’s dialectic: were Gluck’s works seen as closed exegetical texts, like those of Beethoven, or open to revisions depending on the “event,” like those of Rossini (Dahlhaus, 19th-Century Music, 9)? 3 performances in the 1860s. 5 Joël-Marie Fauquet provides a thorough examination of Berlioz’s revisions to Gluck’s Orphée and the cultural milieu in which Berlioz was working. 6 Additionally, Mark Everist’s discussion of Berlioz’s opinions on the music of Gluck as opposed to Castil-Blaze’s opinions evokes many of the same issues as in the Berlin debates that will be discussed in the second chapter of this dissertation. 7 Whether in Paris or Berlin, critics questioned the relevance of Gluck’s operas during the Romantic era. German critics were well aware of Berlioz’s statements about Gluck, since various German periodicals translated and published many of his writings. 8 Throughout Berlioz’s discussion of Gluck, a paradigm emerges in which he held up Gluck’s operas as the pinnacle of true dramatic art and the antipode of Rossini’s operas. 9 Studies of Berlioz’s writings provide us with an excellent understanding of his admiration of Gluck’s music but give the impression that Berlioz was alone in his appreciation of 5 See Katherine Ellis, Music Criticism in Nineteenth-Century France (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 77-83; Gabriele Buschmeier, “‘Le Jupiter de notre Olympe, l’Hercule de la Musique.’ Aspekte zu Berlioz’ Gluck-Rezeption,” in Christoph Willibald Gluck und seine Zeit, ed. Irene Brandenburg (Laaber: Laaber Verlag, 2010), 301-314; Karl Geiringer, “Hector Berlioz and Gluck’s Viennese Operas,” in Essays in Musicology: A Tribute to Alvin Johnson, ed. Lewis Lockwood and Edward Roesner (Philadelphia: American Musicology Society, 1990): 258-265. In a recent study, Simon Goldhill discusses the reception of Berlioz’s and Wagner’s adaptations of Gluck’s operas by 19th-century British audiences; see Victorian Culture and Classical Antiquity: Art, Opera, Fiction, and the Proclamation of Modernity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011), 87-124. 6 See Fauquet, “Berlioz and Gluck,” in The Cambridge Companion to Berlioz (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 199-210, and the same author’s “Berlioz’s version of Gluck’s Orphée,” in Berlioz Studies, ed. Peter Bloom (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 189-253. 7 “Gluck, Berlioz, and Castil-Blaze: The Poetics and Reception of French Opera” in Reading Critics Reading: Opera and Ballet Criticism in France from the Revolution to 1848, ed. Roger Parker and Mary Ann Smart (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 86-108. 8 For a concise overview of Berlioz’s writings and reception of his works in Germany, see David B. Levy, “‘Ritter Berlioz’ in German,” in Berlioz Studies, 136-47, and Frank Heidlberger, “Hector Berlioz und die deutsche Oper: ‘klassische’ und ‘romantische’ Musik im Beziehungsfeld von Gluck, Weber, und Beethoven,” in Hector Berlioz: Ein Franzose in Deutschland, ed. Matthais Brzoska (Essen: Laaber-Verlag, 2003), 271-87. 9 This has been succinctly discussed in Janet Johnson’s “The Music Environment in France,” in The Cambridge Companion to Berlioz, 20-37. 4 Gluck’s operas throughout the 19th century. Take, for example, the chapter in the Cambridge Opera Handbook series on the reception and performance history of Orfeo in the 19th century: Eva Barsham only details Berlioz’s writings about the composer and his adaption of Orphée. 10 In my first chapter, I demonstrate that Berlioz’s adaptation belongs to a history of changing Gluck’s works for the 19th-century stage. Another recent trend within reception history research of Gluck is to examine Wagner’s variable relationship with the composer. 11 When Wagner assumed the post of Kapellmeister in Dresden in 1843, one of his first duties was to conduct Armide; he also revised Iphigénie en Aulide for a performance in 1847. Alexander Rehding and Wolf Gerhard Schmidt each particularly note that Wagner made contradictory statements about the composer (e.g., calling him a “solitary lodestar” or a “powerless revolutionary”). 12 In attempts to reconcile such contradictions, Rehding and Schmidt point out that Wagner studied Gluck’s music when he was trying to formulate his own compositional approach toward music drama. Schmidt notes that Wagner often praised Gluck’s music in his 10 The division of the coverage in the chapter is uneven: Eve Barsham’s section, “Berlioz and Gluck,” devotes thirteen pages to the topic of Berlioz’s reception of Gluck, whereas Patricia Howard’s section, “After Berlioz,” is only two paragraphs about other 19th-century adaptations and performances; both sections in C. W. von Gluck: “Orfeo” (Cambridge Opera Handbooks), ed. Patricia Howard (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 84-99. 11 See Kirchmeyer’s introduction to Das zeitgenössische Wagner-Bild, vol. 4. Thanks to Christa Jost’s work, a critical edition of Wagner’s version of Iphigénie en Aulide as been made available: Iphigenia in Aulis, Bearbeitung der Tragédie: opéra en trois actes "Iphigénie en Aulide" von Christoph Willibald Gluck, WWV 77; Konzertschluss zur Ouvertüre: WWV 87; mit einer Dokumentation zu Wagners deutscher Übersetzung des Librettos und seiner weitern Auseinandersetzung mit dem Werk, in Sämtliche Werke, ed. Carl Dahlhaus (Mainz: Schott, 2010). Within this critical edition, Jost has reprinted many of the reviews from Kirchmeyer’s book. See also Thomas Grey, “Wagner, the Overture and the Aesthetics of Musical Form,” 19th-Century Music 12, no. 1 (Summer, 1988): 3-22; and William Gibbons, “Music of the Future, Music of the Past: Tannhäuser and Alceste at the Paris Opéra,” 19th-century Music 33 no. 3 (Spring 2010): 232-46. 12 Alexander Rehding, Music and Monumentality: Commemoration and Wonderment in Nineteenth- Century Germany (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 109-41; and Wolf Gerhard Schmidt, ’Einsamer Leistern’ oder ‘machtloser Revolutionär’? Strategische Divergenzen in Richard Wagners Gluck- Rezeption,” Die Musikforschung 54, no. 3 (July-Sept 2001): 255-74. 5 published writings but expressed misgivings about the composer in his private letters. 13 But, in the end, according to Rehding, “Gluck... simply did not matter to Wagner,” since Wagner felt that he, not Gluck, would revolutionize opera. 14 Despite Wagner’s complex attitude toward the composer, Wagner’s contemporaries and admirers used Gluck’s reform principals to justify Wagner’s transformation of opera and legitimize him as the heir to Gluck’s legacy. 15 There is a large body of secondary literature in both musicological and literary studies that focuses on E. T. A. Hoffmann’s Ritter Gluck––the famous novella in which Gluck appears as a ghost, wandering the streets of Berlin. 16 Much as with the secondary studies of Berlioz’s and Wagner’s reception of the composer, scholars have focused on Hoffmann’s novella and neglected the broader history of Gluck’s appearance in 19th- century German fictional narratives. Stephan Wortsmann has provided a catalogue of German fictional tales involving Gluck, and Patricia Howard’s documentary study 13 Schmidt, “‘Einsamer Leitstern’ oder ‘machtloser Revolutionär’,” 255. 14 Rehding, Music and Monumentality, 123. 15 Gibbons makes this the focus of his recent article. An excellent example that he cites is Ludwig Nohl’s Gluck und Wagner (Munich: Finsterlin, 1870). 16 These include Timothée Picard, “Pris dans la toile des discours sur la musique: Gluck, scènes littéraires,” Musicorum 9 (March 2011): Les Lumières et la culture musicale européenne C. W. Gluck, 81-7; John Fetzer, “Ritter Gluck’s ‘Unglück’: The Crisis of Creativity in the Age of the Epigone,” The German Quarterly 44 no. 3 (May 1971): 317-30; Christian Wasselin, “Le paradoxe sur le musician ou la métamorphose du neveu de Rameaus en musicien fou d’ E. T. A. Hoffmann,” Corps ecrit 26 (April-June 1988): 117-21; George Edgar Slusser, “Le Nevue de Rameau and Hoffmann’s Johannes Kreisler: Affinities and Influences,” Comparative Literature 27 no. 4 (Autumn, 1975): 327-43; Günter Schnitzler, “Antiklassizistische Ästhetik und produktive Musikkritik: E. T. A. Hoffmanns Ritter Gluck und Don Juan,” Musik & Ästhetik 9 no. 35 (2005): 69-89; Herbert Heckmann, Das Problem der Identität: E. T. A. Hoffmann, “Ritter Gluck” (Berlin: Mayer, 1997); and Abigail Chantler, E. T. A. Hoffmann’s Musical Aesthetics (Aldershot, UK and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2006), 103-8 and 127-68. 6 provides us with numerous anecdotes that circulated during and immediately after the composer’s lifetime. 17 While Hoffmann’s, Berlioz’s, and Wagner’s writings contribute to our present- day understanding of Gluck, this dissertation will demonstrate that these men were alone neither in their appreciation of the 18th-century composer nor in their desire to revise and update his works for the 19th-century stage. For instance, the research of Stephan Kunze highlights the role that other late 18th-century philosophers and critics played in developing a mythic aura around Gluck that would last through the 19th century. 18 Kunze’s study points out that many of Gluck’s contemporaries carried out similar reforms in their operas, while some late 18th- and early 19th-century critics upheld Gluck as the sole true reformer of 18th-century operatic conventions. Ironically, these critics overlooked the fact that Gluck borrowed from other genres, constantly reused materials from his earlier operas, and kept the convention of the lieto fine intact. 19 Additionally, Elisabeth Schmierer examines the German perception of the Querelle des Gluckistes et des Piccinnistes in the 18th century. 20 Her research provides us with an overview of the French texts that were available to and influenced German critics. Her writing reveals 17 Stephan Wortsmann, Die deutsche Gluck-Literatur (Nuremburg: Koch, 1914); Patricia Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait in Letters and Documents (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995). 18 “Christoph Willibald Gluck, oder: die ‘Natur’ des musikalischen Dramas,” in Christoph Willibald Gluck und die Opernreform, ed. Klaus Hortschansky (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1989), 390-418. 19 Patricia Howard makes a similar observation based on Kunze’s work, in Christoph Willibald von Gluck: A Guide to Research, 2nd ed. (New York: Routledge, 2003), 87-88. 20 “Die deutsche Rezeption der Querelle des Gluckistes et Piccinnistes,” in Studien zu den deutsch- französischen Musikbeziehungen in 18. und 19. Jahrhundert, ed. Herbert Schneider (Hildsheim: Olms, 1999), 196-212. More recently, Sylvie Le Moël has published an essay regarding the dynamic nature of Gluck’s reception among German intellectuals during the Enlightenment period; see “Gluck et les publicistes des Lumières allemandes: enjeux esthétiques et identitaires d’unepremière réception,” Musicorum 9 (March 2011): Les Lumières et la culture musicale européenne C. W. Gluck 23-39, 7 that 18th-century critics tied the reception of Gluck’s operas to larger debates over the relevancy of instrumental music, the doctrine of the affections, and the creation of a serious, unified German opera. Another line of inquiry into Gluck’s operas in the 18th and 19th centuries has explicitly linked the critics’ and composers’ interest in the composer with the development and formation of a unified German national opera. Thomas Bauman focuses particularly on Gluck’s reception and his music’s role in the development of a German national opera in the 18th century. 21 In the case of 19th-century German opera, John Warrack and Stephen Meyer provide an excellent discussion of how Gluck’s Paris operas, coupled with the popularity of opéras-comiques from the time of the Revolution, contributed to the development of the German Romantic opera of Carl Maria von Weber, Beethoven, and others. 22 As will be discussed below, a majority of the discourse surrounding Gluck reveals the critics’ disgust with the operas of Rossini. Therefore, Gluck was proffered as an alternative to the prevailing popularity of Italian and French opera and a beacon to German composers in their search for a new and original direction for a unified German opera. My approach is inspired in large part by the work of Christoph Henzel, who focuses on the central role played by the Berlin theaters in promoting and producing the works of Gluck. 23 His research demonstrates that the reception and performance history 21 North German Opera in the Age of Goethe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 230-42. 22 John Warrack, German Opera: from the Beginnings to Wagner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), and Stephen Meyer, Carl Maria von Weber and the Search for a German Opera (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2003). 23 “Zwischen Hofoper und Nationaltheater: Aspekte der Gluckrezeption in Berlin um 1800,” Archiv für Musikwissenschaft 50 (1993): 201-16. 8 of Gluck’s operas in Berlin was not as direct and simple as previously believed. Using the performance history of Alceste from 1796 to 1805, Henzel demonstrates that the Hofoper cut, added to, or otherwise revised Gluck’s operas to conform to opera seria standards. Around the same time, August Wilhelm Iffland translated Gluck’s Iphigénie en Tauride into German for a performance at the Nationaltheater in 1795 and presented Tauride as if it were a German national opera. From this point forward, Gluck’s operas remained in the Berlin operatic repertoire. These continual performances would influence the reviews of Reichardt, Johann Gottlieb Karl Spazier, and still later Hoffmann. 24 In another article, Henzel also discusses the way Berlin theaters appropriated Gluck’s operas from the French and the Austrians and presented them in the context of large dynastic festivals throughout the 19th century. 25 Theoretical Framework The theoretical framework for my analysis and discussion of Gluck and his operas during the Biedermeier period derives from recent research in reception studies; historiographic, biographic and narrative theories; and canon formation. These theoretical modes of inquiry have become particularly useful in recent musicological studies as researchers have attempted to understand music’s changing role in society, turning away from studying canonic masterpieces in isolation. The result has been to question why certain works remain in the canon and others do not, or from whence certain prejudices and cultural values surrounding a composer, genre, or work derive. 24 Ibid. 25 “Von der preußischen Nationaloper zum wahren Musikdrama: Zur Gluckrezeption in Berlin im achtzehnten und neunzehnten Jahrhundert,” in Wien-Berlin: Stationen einer kulturellen Beziehung, ed. Hartmut Grimm, Mathias Hansen, and Ludwig Holtmeier (Saarbrüchen: Pfau, 2000), 54-63. 9 Reception history has become a multifaceted approach to the understanding of literary, performative, and visual arts in which an objective meaning is no longer seen as existing entirely within the text, object, or performance itself, but rather is assumed to come also from the receiver (i.e., listener, reader, viewer). 26 For Hans Robert Jauss, this reader-oriented view places the meaning of a work in a state of “constant reenactment” and flux. 27 It is then up to the scholar to determine how a new work “satisfies, surpasses, disappoints, or refutes” a reader’s “horizon of expectations” and where a “change in horizons” occurs throughout the history of a work. Carl Dahlhaus, however, places limits on such a line of inquiry for musicological research. For Dahlhaus, scholars should consider: “(1) the origin of an interpretation, (2) the extent to which it illuminates the phenomenon in question, (3) the number of people who believe in it, and (4) the aforementioned principle that all interpretations enjoy equal status.” 28 Ultimately, valid interpretations, whether made by the composer or a scholar, must rely on “the principle of cogency” in which the interpretation is made “against the aesthetic criteria of diversity and inner coherence.” 29 Dahlhaus neither disadvantages nor discourages the pursuit of reception history but seeks to make researchers cognizant of certain pitfalls that can occur in the process of researching a work and composer, “lest they find themselves adrift in a sea of relativism.” 30 But even Dahlhaus admits that “... 26 Peter Uwe Hohendahl, Building a National Literature: The Case of Germany, 1830-1870, trans. Renate Baron Franciscono (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1989), 6. 27 Hans Robert Jauss, Toward an Aesthetic of Reception, trans. Timothy Bahti (Minneapolis: Minnesota University Press, 1982), 75. 28 Carl Dahlhaus, Foundation of Music History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 159. 29 Ibid., 160. 30 Ibid., 154. Whereas Dahlhaus cautions against the relativist nature of reception history, Jean-Jacques Nattiez embraces this aspect in his study of semiology and music. He points out how such an relativist 10 no historian should ignore or delude himself about the extent of [reception history’s] influence.” 31 An issue for Dahlhaus is the idea of a work’s function or prestige changing over time. Whether a work was successful or not does not change certain inherent “musical facts” about it. 32 In particular, even when the performance context of a work changes (e.g., an opera overture is recast as a concert overture), the meaning of the work is not affected. Relying on the literary theories of Umberto Eco, Dahlhaus asserts that “utility is exchangeable without affecting meaning and vice versa.” 33 Many orchestras from the 19th century to today, for example, perform the overture to Gluck’s Iphigénie en Aulide as a concert overture. The meaning behind Gluck’s overture, according to Dahlhaus, still relates to the opera, even when presented as a stand-alone work. 34 The question then for a reception historian is whether or not audiences and reviewers ever begin to interpret the overture without any allusion to the opera, and what such a change in interpretation would mean about the social and intellectual history of that particular time and place. approach can produce myriad interpretations of a piece and, hence, keep the work “open” for future analysis and study. See for example his discussion of Pierre Chéreau’s 1976 staging of Wagner’s Ring Cycle, in Music and Discourse: Toward a Semiology of Music, trans. Carolyn Abbate (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 74-77. 31 Ibid., 160. 32 Ibid., 154. 33 Ibid., 163. 34 Gluck reused material from his opera Telemaco (1765) to formulate his overture. In Telemaco, this music is used to characterize a lost boy in search of his father; in Aulide, it represents a father asked to sacrifice his daughter (Daniel Heartz, Music in European Capitals: The Galant Style, 1720-1780 [New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2003], 812). Very few members of the general public or even musical connoisseurs were familiar with Telemaco in the 19th century (or even today, for that matter), so this fact did not likely influence how people received Gluck’s overture. An additional issue that might affect how an audience member receives the overture would be if any didactic materials (i.e., program notes or pre- concert lectures) were made available to him or her before the concert. 11 Gluck’s overture to Iphigénie en Aulide provides us with further issues surrounding reception-history studies, as critics and composers tinkered with his works throughout the 19th century. After Wagner reorchestrated the overture and composed a new coda for it, he published an article in which he reinterpreted Gluck’s music to suit his aesthetic and philosophical outlook. 35 Basically, Wagner conceived of the overture as the interplay of four motives (Appeal, Power, Grace, and Pity), and he returned to these motives in the composition of his coda. 36 Do we now accept this interpretation as legitimate, even though Wagner reduced Gluck’s overture to a series of motives? 37 There is nothing in Gluck’s available writings that either confirms or denies this approach. Gluck brings back certain motives throughout the opera in a methodical manner, as if to fasten these melodic ideas to certain dramatic or emotional elements in the plot. Did Gluck specifically intend that his motives in the overture should represent particular characters, emotions, or ideas in the opera? Did Wagner intentionally or unintentionally reveal the 18th-century origins of the leitmotiv, which will become the hallmark of Wagner’s music dramas (and, in turn, the basis for almost every analysis of Wagner’s opera thereafter)? When we consider the biographical and historical context of Wagner’s encounter with Gluck’s Iphigénie en Aulide (first during his tenure as the Kapellmeister 35 Richard Wagner, “Gluck’s Ouvertüre zu “Iphigenia in Aulis”. Eine Mittheilung an den Redacteur der “Neue Zeitschrift für Musik,” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik 40, no. 1 (1 July 1854): 1-6. Reprinted and translated in William Ashton Ellis, ed., Richard Wagner’s Prose Works, vol. 3, Judaism and Music and Other Essays (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner & Co., Ltd., 1894; reprint, Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1995), 155-66. 36 This is based on Rehding, Music and Monumentality, 129. 37 For a semiological approach to leitmotivs, see Carolyn Abbate, Unsung Voices: Opera and Musical Narrative in the Nineteenth Century (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991). Abbate is often critical of leitmotiv analyses in that they are reductive and often forced upon the music. It is interesting that she is often dismissive of scholars who impose a leitmotiv analysis upon Wagner’s music, though Wagner did this to Gluck’s. On this topic, see also Carlo Caballero, “Silence, Echo: A Response to ‘What the Sorcerer Said,’” 19th-Century Music 28, no. 2 (Fall 2004): 160-82. 12 at Dresden and then during his exile in Zurich), his interpretation speaks far more to his personal struggles in the formulation and conception of a unified Germanic opera than it does about Gluck’s own operatic conventions. Nonetheless, Wagner’s analysis is an example of a “cogent” approach to interpretation in that he provides us with a new, deeper understanding of Gluck’s music. As Wagner himself states, he conceived of his coda and analysis with the “greatest delicacy.” 38 That is, Wagner’s analysis is neither right nor wrong but an excellent example of how an individual’s perception of the overture to Iphigénie en Aulide, and by extension the opera, changes over time, and how that change reflects certain social and cultural trends. 39 The appeal of reception history is that it shifts the orientation of musicological studies away from a history of the great works and their composers and toward that of a cultural and contextual analysis. As Sanna Pederson shows in her study of 19th-century concert life, even the concept of autonomous art was “an available medium for furthering certain social projects.” 40 Additionally, reception studies uncover the origins of our present-day prejudices regarding a composer, work, or genre. 41 As James Garratt observes in his study of the 19th-century reception of Palestrina, It is often still contended that the reception of sixteenth-, seventeenth-, and eighteenth-century compositions in the nineteenth century need bear no relation to our engagement with this music: that it is the task of the music historian to strip away the distortions and misconceptions accrued in the course of history. But instead of viewing these successive responses to Palestrina and 38 Wagner, “Gluck’s Ouvertüre,” 165. 39 Rehding, Music and Monumentality, 129-34. 40 Sanna Pederson, “A.B. Marx, Berlin Concert Life, and German National Identity,” 19th-Century Music 18, no. 2 (Autumn, 1994): 88. 41 James Garratt, Palestrina and the German Romantic Imagination: Interpreting Historicism in Nineteenth-Century Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 7. 13 his music as redundant detritus, to be stripped away in order to access original truths, we should recognize that his cultural significance and the meanings of his works subsist in a dynamic interplay between past and present. 42 Garratt’s statement points to one of the underlying implications of reception-history studies, which is that much of our current discourse surrounding a certain composer, genre, or work derives from 19th-century ideologies and value judgments. 43 Instead of simply ignoring or debunking such 19th-century prejudices, some musicologists have taken to uncovering and illuminating the historical, cultural, and sociological context in which these ideas emerged. 44 The data for my reception history come from concert reviews, analyses in music journals, and published fictional accounts about Gluck. For my analysis of the fictional accounts surrounding his biography, I will rely on Hayden White’s writings in historiography. White asserts that [historical] events are made into a story by the suppression or subordination of certain of them and the highlighting of other, by characterization, motific repetition, variation of tone and point of view, alternative descriptive strategies, and the like—in short, all the of the techniques that we would normally expect to find in the emplotment of a novel or a play. 45 In recent musicological research, K. M. Knittel uses White’s historical analysis to discuss anecdotes surrounding visits to Beethoven. She shows how certain tropes and plot 42 Ibid., 8. 43 Janet Levy demonstrates that musicologists of today still use the same rhetoric and value judgments inherited from 19th-century ideology and thought in “Covert and Causal Values in Recent Writing About Music,” Journal of Musicology 5 (1987): 3-27. 44 See, for example, Paula Higgins, “The Apotheosis of Josquin des Prez and Other Mythologies of Musical Genius,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 57 no. 3 (Fall 2004): 443-510. 45 Hayden White, Tropics of Discourse: Essays in Cultural Criticism (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978), 84. Also relevant is Hayden White, The Content of the Form: Narrative Discourse and Historical Representation (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987). 14 structures return throughout these narratives to create a mythic image of the composer. 46 Analyzing Gluck narratives, I find that writers do exactly what White has observed in historical narratives— highlight certain aspects of Gluck’s life while repressing others. For example, in a fantastical narrative, A. B. Marx uses eyewitness accounts of Gluck’s frustration with singers during rehearsals of Iphigénie en Aulide at the Paris Opéra. 47 In using these accounts, Marx creates an image of an artist who does not care about audiences’ and performers’ demands, but only about representing a complete, unified work of art. Whereas Marx emphasizes Gluck’s demanding, artistic persona, nowhere does he mention Gluck’s self-borrowing from his earlier operas—a practice for which German critics would rebuke Rossini and others. 48 While past musicological studies rejected or ignored such falsified narratives about a composer, literary theorists have found that these misleading biographies can lead to a fruitful discussion of the author’s appropriation of his or her subjects and the historical and social context in which they were written. Take, for example, the literary theories surrounding James Boswell’s Life of Johnson (1776), in which Boswell falsified aspects of Johnson’s life, all the while creating a masterpiece of English literature. As 46 K. M. Knittel, “Pilgrimages to Beethoven: Reminiscences by his Contemporaries,” Music & Letters 84, no. 1 (February 2003): 19-34. 47 A. B. Marx, “Verlorene Liebe, oder die deutschen Komponisten in Paris,” Berliner allgemeine musikalische Zeitung 4 (1827): 373-75, quoted and translated in The Attentive Listener: Three Centuries of Music Criticism, ed., Harry Haskell (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996), 85-91. Marx may have relied on Mannlich’s journal in which the painter sat in on the rehearsals of Iphigénie en Aulide. Part of Mannlich’s journal is translated in Howard, Gluck, 108-9. 48 For a discussion of Rossini’s self-borrowing, see Parker, “The Opera Industry,” 98. One of the reasons Marx did not discuss Gluck’s self-borrowing at length was probably practical: Gluck’s pre-reform operas were scarcely available in Germany. Marx does analyze some of Gluck’s earlier works in his monograph Gluck und die Oper (Berlin: Strauß & Cramer, 1863; reprint Hildsheim: Georg Olms, 1980). Within the biography, Marx does point out some of Gluck’s self-borrowings, such as the reuse of material from Telemaco in Armide. 15 John Vance asks, “What is the value of the Life if it is not good biography?” 49 The same question could easily be asked of the narratives and biographies discussed in Chapter 3 of this dissertation, which demonstrate that authors continually manipulated historical data to form a cohesive literary narrative about Gluck. 50 In the case of Boswell, Ralph Rader suggests that “factual narratives in order to compass a literary effect must raise their subjects constructively out of the past and represent them to the imagination as concrete, self-intelligible causes of emotion.” 51 Applying Radar’s comment to the Gluck literature of the 19th century, I will show that critics raised Gluck “out of the past” to elicit an emotional response to Gluck’s music. In Ritter Gluck, Hoffmann summoned Gluck from the grave in order to critique Berlin’s poor musical performances and the growing commercialization of the 19th-century musical culture. 52 Though we can find faults and historical inaccuracies throughout these fictional accounts and misleading biographical writings, there is an ongoing debate about the proper use of these fictional portrayals. On the one hand, we could explain them away, as is the case with the “demythologizing” surrounding Mozart. 53 A recent example is 49 John A. Vance, “Introduction,” Boswell’s “Life of Johnson”: New Questions, New Answers, ed. John A. Vance (Athens: The University of George Press), 3. 50 Johann Peter Burmeister-Lyser, “Gluck in Paris,” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik 5, nos. 45-49 (December 1836): 179-80, 183-84, 187-89, 191-92, 195-96. It was later republished in the second volume of Lyser’s collection Neue Kunst-Novellen (Frankfurt am Main: Johann David Sauerländer, 1837): 77-114. E. F. Ellet published an English translation several years later in Nouvellets of the Musicians (New York: Cornish, Lamport & Co., 1851), 184-200. 51 Ralph W. Radar, “Literary Form in Factual Narrative: The Example of Boswell’s Johnson,” in Boswell’s “Life of Johnson,” 26. The issue of literary form in factual writing also comes up in William R. Siebenschuh, Fictional Techniques and Factual Works (Athens: The University of Georgia Press, 1983). 52 See Henzel, “Zwischen Hofoper und Nationaltheater,” 213-14 about Hoffman’s critique of the Berlin opera scene. 53 An excellent essay about the fallacies inherent in “demythologizing” composers is Julia Moore, “Mozart Mythologized or Modernized,” Journal of Musicological Research 12 (1992): 83-109. Moore reviews recent literature debunking the “poor Mozart” myth, but as she points out, the economic models used by 16 Maynard Solomon’s biography of Mozart, which attempts to debunk the myth of Mozart as the eternal child. 54 But as Matthew Head observes, Solomon simply replaces the “myth of the eternal child” with the “myth of the abusive father.” 55 On the other hand, we can deconstruct these myths to reveal the narrative’s intertextual references or the writer’s cultural values directed toward a composer. 56 As Jolanta Pekacz points out, Under the label of “demythologization,” they [musicologists] scrutinize biographies of prominent composers for errors, misconceptions, lack of scholarly rigor, and the like, and demand the separation of “fact” from “fiction” in the lives of these composers…. Further, the zeal toward establishing biographical “truth” often implies the rejection of illuminating interpretations of earlier authors and is accompanied by a rather crude methodological assumption about one’s own infallibility…. 57 In disproving a past biography or a certain myth about a composer, according to Pekacz, we often forget that “biography reflects a central cultural understanding of its time.” 58 scholars are contemporary economic techniques being made to explain 18th-century markets—hence ignoring the cultural context in which Mozart worked. 54 Maynard Solomon, Mozart: A Life (New York: HarperCollins, 1995). Solomon lays out his approach in biographical writing in a short article, “Thoughts on Biography,” 19th-Century Music 5 no. 3 (Spring 1982): 268-76. Solomon also deconstructs Rochlitz’s published anecdotes about Mozart, in “The Rochlitz Anecdotes: Issues of Authenticity in Early Mozart Biography,” in Mozart Studies, ed. Cliff Eisen (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 1-60. 55 Matthew Head, “Myths of a Sinful Father: Maynard Solomon’s ‘Mozart,’” Music & Letters 80 no. 1 (February 1999): 74-85. 56 K. M. Knittel, “The Construction of Beethoven,” in The Cambridge History of Nineteenth-Century Music, ed. Jim Samson (Cambridge; Cambridge University Press, 2002), 118-56. Two other contextualized readings of 19th-century biographies are David Gramit, “Constructing a Victorian Schubert: Music, Biography, and Cultural Values,” 19th-Century Music 17 no. 1 (Summer 1993): 65-78, and Jolanta Pekacz, “Deconstructing a ‘National Composer’: Chopin and Polish Exiles in Paris, 1831-49,” 19th- Century Music 24 no. 2 (Autumn 2000): 161-72. Both scholars reveal that biographies about these composers, whatever information they suppress or illuminate, say more about the authors and the cultural context than they do about the composers. 57 Jolanta Pekacz, “Memory, History and Meaning: Musical Biography and Its Discontents,” Journal of Musicological Research 23, no. 1 (2004): 44. 58 Ibid., 45. Other musicological resources about the merit and role of biography are Jolanta Pekacz, ed. Musical Biography: Towards New Paradigms (Aldershot, UK and Burlingon, VT: Ashgate, 2006), and Hans Lenneberg, Witnesses and Scholars: Studies in Musical Biography (New York: Gordon and Breach, 1988). For a specific discussion of 19th-century German biography, see Roger Paulin, “Adding Stones to 17 That is, we should examine composer biographies and narratives within the cultural contexts in which they were written. Keeping this in mind, I will deconstruct these fictionalized accounts of Gluck to reveal the 19th-century perception of the composer and his place in Biedermeier musical culture. In particular, I will show how Gluck’s name became a metonymic device: the mere mention of it in 19th-century discourse evoked the image of an individual reforming, rebelling against, and overcoming the confines and status quo of the 18th century. What these fictional accounts, along with other analytical studies, build to is a larger discussion in recent musicological studies regarding inherited mythologies that exist within our contemporary discourse about certain composers, genres, or time periods. In his semiological study Mythologies, Roland Barthes wrote: “I resented seeing Nature and History confused at every turn, and I wanted to track down, in the decorative display of what-goes-without-saying, the ideological abuse which, in my view, is hidden there.” 59 According to Barthes, “Myth does not deny things, on the contrary, its function is to talk about them; simply, it purifies them, it makes them innocent, it gives them a natural and eternal justification, it gives them a clarity which is not that of an explanation but that of a statement of fact.” 60 For Barthes, this “naturalness” and “goes-without-saying” reduce our rhetorical discourse to make myths appear commonsensical and easily acceptable by the general public. 61 Paula Higgins applies Barthes’s theories to modern scholarship surrounding Josquin des Prez, as she points out the manner in which 20th-century the Edifice: Patterns of German Biography,” in Mapping Lives: The Uses of Biography, ed. Peter France and William St. Clair (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 103-14. 59 Roland Barthes, Mythologies, trans. Annette Lavers (New York: Hill and Wang, 1972), 11. 60 Ibid., 143 61 Higgins, “The Apotheosis of Josquin des Prez,” 446. 18 scholars discussed Josquin’s biography and his music with the same heroic, mythical rhetoric that has long surrounded Beethoven. When scholars encountered works by Josquin that deviated from preconceived notions of the composer (i.e., parallel fifths or otherwise poor counterpoint), the works were immediately dismissed as no longer belonging to the canon of the composer’s works. One might also cite the 19th-century critiques of Mozart’s La clemenza di Tito, in which critics and scholars considered the composer’s setting of Metastasio’s old libretto as a backsliding into outmoded conventions, harming the composer’s entire oeuvre. 62 In citing the tight deadline of the commission, his illness, his singers’ demands, and his financial despair, according to John Rice, critics of the 19th century tried to find excuses for what they believed were weaknesses in Mozart’s score and his relapse into opera seria. German scholars in particular wanted to imagine that Mozart poured his last remaining powers into creating the Requiem and Die Zauberflöte––instead, they were left with the Italian Metastasio. 63 In the case of Gluck, from the 19th century onwards, scholars presented the historical narrative surrounding Gluck’s Orfeo as one of breaking free from the conventions of Italian opera seria and never turning back. When Mortiz Fürstenau encountered the score for the 1773 production of Orfeo in Munich at the Royal Music Collection in Dresden, he noted that: [it] contains however some musical pieces, which are thither newly composed, absolutely not suited to the scale of the original masterpiece and entirely deviate from the style of the opera, such as [it] is much loved and dear to the friends of music. Even if they 62 John Rice, W. A. Mozart: “La Clemenza di Tito” (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 120- 21. 63 An example of the derisive remarks about Metastasio and Tito can be found in “Korrespondenz. Armide von Gluck.” Berliner allgemeine musikalische Zeitung nos. 10-11 (March 1824): 91-93, 99-100. 19 originated from Gluck at all, they belong to an earlier style of the master. 64 ... aber einige Musikstücke enthält, die neu hinzu komponirt sind, durchaus aber nicht in den Rahmen des ursprünglichen Meisterwerkes passen und von dem Stile der Oper, wie solcher den Musikfreunden lieb und theuer geworden ist, gänzlich abweichen. Dieselben gehören, wenn sie überhaupt von Gluck herrühren, einer früheren Schreibweise des Meisters an. As will be discussed in the first chapter, Fürstenau was right in that many of the inserted numbers are parodies of arias by Gluck from operas that he composed before Orfeo. 65 Most of the insertions are in da capo form and contain fairly lengthy coloratura passages. Yet the 19th-century image of Gluck required that he reject such conventions with Orfeo, and therefore including such arias in this revolutionary work clearly was a violation of Gluck’s principals. Later in his essay, Fürstenau asserts with more certainty that Gluck could not have composed such arias: The artistic-musical content of the newly composed pieces certainly differs, as has already been noted, from the character of the opera as it has become generally known. The new numbers are mediocre, with a few exceptions, and belong to the conventional style of Italian opera at that time. 66 Der künstlerische-musikalische Inhalt der neukomponirten Stücke freilich weicht, wie schon bemerkt, von dem Charakter der Oper, wie er allgemein bekannt geworden ist, gänzlich ab. Die neuen Nummern sind mit wenigen Ausnahmen unbedeutend und gehören der konventionellen Schreibweise der damaligen italienischen Oper an. Granted, when Fürstenau made this claim, many of Gluck’s earlier operas were neither in print nor widely circulated; therefore, we are left to wonder if he would have changed his 64 Mortiz Fürstenau, “Glucks Orpheus in München 1773,” Monatshefte für Musikgeschichte 4 (1872): 216. 65 Max Arend, “Die Münchener Bearbeitung des Gluck’schen Orpheus aus dem Jahre 1773,” Musikalische Wochenblatt 44, nos. 1-2 (1909): 82. 66 Fürstenau, “Glucks Orpheus in München,” 220. 20 opinion about the inserted arias if he had known some of them were by Gluck. Nonetheless, Fürstenau rejects these arias because they are the antipode of the economical music found in Gluck’s reform operas. Fürstenau acknowledges briefly that Gluck fell back to the “old manner” (“alte Weise”), citing Il Parnaso confuso and La corona; 67 he, like other scholars after him, saw this lapse into the conventions of opera seria as a concession to courtly practices and pressures. Regarding Gluck’s operas immediately following Orfeo, Ernest Newman states that: Gluck, of course, had still his position to maintain at the Court of Vienna, and he found himself compelled, time after time, to fill up the intervals between his greater operas with customary ephemeral works intended for performance at some imperial ceremony or at some country house. 68 Alfred Einstein encountered a similar problem when writing his biography of Gluck: how to justify Gluck’s relapse into standard opera seria conventions after composing Orfeo. For Einstein, the opera Il trionfi di Clelia revealed that the composer was “guilty of another relapse into the old operatic system” after Orfeo. 69 Einstein justified Gluck’s “relapse” by stating that it is perfectly understandable that Gluck did not continue his ‘reforms’ just then [immediately after Orfeo], a continuation dependent on the existence of a new kind of poem, on a stage like the imperial stage and a public like the Viennese public. Gluck was a realist and fond of money. 70 67 Ibid. 68 Ernest Newman, Gluck and the Opera: A Study in Musical History (London: Bertram Dobell, 1895; reprint, Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1976), 68. 69 Alfred Einstein, Gluck, trans. Eric Blom (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 1936; McGraw-Hill Paperback Edition, 1972), 84 (citation from paperback edition). 70 Ibid. 21 Gluck’s biography was not a simple progression from conventional opera seria composer to a rebellious one, as scholars would have liked it to be. Throughout this dissertation, I will show that this mythic image created by early 19th-century writers and music critics was so compelling that it influences our image of Gluck to this day. 71 In 19th-century writings about Gluck, both fictional and analytical, there is a desire on the part of some critics to simplify and exemplify Gluck’s biography and music, leading Germans to accept him as part of the canon of great German composers and as belonging to a common mythic past. 72 Lydia Goehr states that, beginning in the 1800s, there was “a transition in practice, away from seeing music as a means to seeing it as an end.” 73 That is, musical pieces were no longer heard as an “extra-musical use of a general language” but as “complete and discrete, original and fixed, personally owned... musical works.” 74 It was proposed then that works of great musical and historical importance belonged in a museum where respectful members of society could contemplate the masterpieces. 75 Particularly in Berlin, critics often remarked that the audiences for performances of Gluck’s and Mozart’s operas were the respectful, learned 71 The other aspect running throughout these and other 19th- and early 20th-century writings about Gluck is the notion that Gluck was the sole reformer of Italian opera in the 18th century. Gluck was not alone in reforming opera, as other composers manipulated and transformed the formal principles of opera seria throughout the 18th century. For a succinct overview, see Giorgio Pestelli, The Age of Mozart and Beethoven (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 64-70; Bruce Alan Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre in Vienna (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 8-11 and 358-81; and Daniel Heartz, Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School, 1740-1780 (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1995), 174-79. Brown’s and Heartz’s works also provide excellent overviews of the various French and Italian styles and genres that influenced Gluck and Calzabigi in their formation of their reform principles, as well as addressing issues of regression after Orfeo. 72 My language here comes from Benedict Anderson’s Imagined Communities: Reflections of the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, rev. ed. (London: Verso, 1983, 2006). 73 Lydia Goehr, The Imaginary Museum of Musical Works: An Essay in the Philosophy of Music (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), 206. 74 Ibid. 75 Ibid. 22 members of society, who came to honor the masters of the Classical era. Additionally, William Weber notes that “the militance of taste for the classics was a reaction against the intense commercialism of musical life during the period.” 76 By placing Gluck in the canon of great German composers, critics made it clear that his operas were worthy of study and reflection, away from the distractions of an ever-changing society. Scope The first chapter will address the changes made to Gluck’s operas for productions in the early part of the 19th century. The chapter will initially focus on the Munich staging of Orfeo ed Euridice in 1773 and then on Berlin’s versions of Orpheus und Eurydice in 1808 and 1818. My purpose in making such a comparison is to investigate the degree of continuity between 18th- and 19th-century practices in adapting Gluck’s operas for the stage. Afterwards, the chapter will focus upon changes made to the orchestral accompaniment in Iphigenia in Aulis for the 1816 production in Munich and on the extensive ballet numbers inserted into Gluck’s works for a series of performances in Vienna from 1807 to 1810. In closing, I will examine the way performances of Gluck’s operas were subsumed into larger dynastic events that extolled the virtues of the ruling household and the fatherland through added poetry and music before, during, or after the opera. In addition to manuscripts in Berlin, I also examined collections in Weimar, Dresden, and Munich to provide a representative sample of changes made elsewhere to Gluck’s music. I attempt, when possible, to note certain physical characteristics of the 76 William Weber, “The Rise of the Classical Repertoire in Nineteenth-Century Orchestral Concerts,” in The Orchestra: Origins and Transformations, ed. Joan Peyser (New York: Scribner, 1986), 371. 23 manuscripts. 77 Ultimately, this chapter shows that opera companies did not perform Gluck’s operas as he composed them, but subjected them to various changes in order to align his operas to current and local tastes of the 19th century. In the second chapter, I will reevaluate the Gluck-Pflege in Berlin during the era of Spontini’s directorship. By examining the writings about Gluck in A. B. Marx’s Berliner allgemeine musikalische Zeitung and reviews of performances in local newspapers and journals, I will demonstrate the multifaceted nature of the city’s Gluck- Pflege. Marx’s own writings and those of others demonstrate, on the one hand, critics’ fascination with Gluck’s Paris and reform operas and how they believed the works to be models for Romantic composers. On the other hand, the writings also show a willingness to highlight faults of the composer or his librettists. Though Marx treated Gluck’s scores as autonomous works of art, what he and his fellow critics, particularly Ludwig Rellstab, heard and saw on the stage indicated otherwise. Gluck’s works were open to revisions and interpretations, which critics felt harmed the composer’s intentions and pandered to the masses. Though Marx and others perceived the continual performances of Gluck’s and Mozart’s operas as a rampart against the growing taste for the newer Italian and French operas, they noticed fissures in their citadel of classicism. In 1837, these concerns over Berlin’s changing musical landscape came to the fore when Spontini conducted Armide at the Hofoper. Berlin’s critics were outraged with cuts, insertions, 77 Thomas Denny’s research is very helpful as regards some of the physical aspects of the score found in the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek. He has also pointed out changes made to 19th-century scores of Gluck’s works in Viennese archives, in “Wiener Quellen zu Glucks “Reform”-Opern: Datierung und Bewertung,” in Beiträge zur Wiener Gluck-Überlieferung, ed. Irene Brandenburg and Gerhard Croll (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 2001), 9-72. 24 and other alterations made by Spontini, and a larger debate in local and national papers ensued over the city’s position as the last bastion of the 18th-century Classical tradition. In the third chapter, I will discuss fictional treatments of Gluck’s biography and persona. I will pay particular attention to Johann Lyser’s “Gluck in Paris,” which first appeared in Schumann’s Neue Zeitschrift für Musik and which was then later reprinted in the author’s second volume of short stories, Neue Kunst-Novellen. This and a majority of other fictional accounts about Gluck were intended for the growing mass market and would therefore contribute to the public’s perception of the composer. While some critics used fictional narratives to deride 19th-century philistinism, most fictional accounts present Gluck as a remnant of a lost golden age in Germanic musical culture. My conclusion demonstrates the thread that runs throughout the reception of Gluck’s music from the late 18th century through to the 19th century. Repeatedly Gluck’s operatic works (especially his reform and Paris operas) are upheld as a model for aspiring–and specifically German–composers. In the second half of the 19th century, Liszt declared that Gluck was the harbinger of a perfectly synthesized art form that was now coming to fruition in the music dramas of Wagner. At the same time that Liszt and others were looking to Gluck as the initiator of the music of the future, monuments were being erected to the composer as cities and music societies paid homage to the ever more distant Classical era. 25 CHAPTER ONE: THE STATE OF GLUCK’S OPERAS IN THE FIRST HALF OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY ON THE GERMAN STAGE In his article “Die Pflege Glucks an der Berliner Oper von 1795–1841” Karl Wörner reported that Gluck’s works were performed over 300 times in Berlin. 78 Carl Dahlhaus claimed that the continual presence of Mozart’s and Gluck’s operas on the stage was one of the many factors that “gave rise in the first place to our modern notion of the operatic and concert repertoire.” 79 William Weber noted that “Gluck’s operas had a longevity that was quite unusual...” in the 19th century. 80 As these statements suggest, Gluck’s popularity on the European concert and operatic stages continued well into the 19th century. For the most part, past writings on this subject have lacked discussion of the revisions opera companies made to Gluck’s operas and the impact these changes would have upon critics’ and audiences’ perceptions of the composer and his operas. Wörner, for example, relied solely on reviews from the Berliner allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (hereafter BamZ) and the Leipzig-based Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (hereafter AmZ); he briefly noted if the reviewers mentioned any changes to Gluck’s scores that occurred in performances. When scholars have discussed the changes and revisions made to Gluck’s operas in the 19th century, they have focused on Hector Berlioz’s adaptations of Orphée (1859) and Alceste (1861) 78 Karl Wörner, “Die Pflege Glucks an der Berliner Oper von 1795-1841,” Zeitschrift für Musikwissenschaft 13 (1930-31): 206-16. A similar observation is expressed in Helmut Kirchmeyer’s Situationsgeschichte der Musikkritik und des musikalischen Pressewesens in Deutschland, IV Teil: Das zeitgenössische Wagner-Bild, vol. 4, Wagner in Dresden (Regensburg: Gustav Bosse, 1967). 79 Carl Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, trans. J. Bradford Robinson (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989), 32. 80 William Weber, “The rise of the Classical Repertoire in Nineteenth-Century Orchestral Concerts,” in The Orchestra: Origins and Transformations, ed. Joan Peyser (New York: Scribner, 1986), 369. 26 or on Richard Wagner’s changes to Iphigenia in Aulis (1847). 81 Yet these composers’ revivals of Gluck’s operas are part of a long history of adapting his works for 18th- and 19th-century audiences. Moreover, these earlier 19th-century revivals and stagings affected audiences’ and critics’ overall perception of the composer. Christoph Henzel shows that the Berlin Hofoper and Nationaltheater rearranged and deleted sections from the score of Alceste for various performances between 1796 and 1806. 82 Berlin critics, in turn, found the opera to be monotonous and a violation of opera seria conventions. Elaborating on Henzel’s research, this chapter will demonstrate that 19th-century opera companies made concrete changes to Gluck’s operas on the stage, and that these changes reshaped his works to align them with the newer Romantic operas coming from France and Italy, all the while presenting them as German grand operas. Throughout the 19th century, Berlin was central in promoting and cultivating Gluck’s operas in Europe. Berlioz commended King Frederick Wilhelm IV of Prussia for the “magnificent revivals of Gluck’s masterpieces, which are no longer heard anywhere but in Berlin.” 83 The British writer Henry Chorley made a “pilgrimage” to Berlin in order to hear a performance of Iphigenia in Tauris. 84 Additionally, many 81 This issue has been addressed in the introduction of this dissertation. 82 Christoph Henzel, “Zwischen Hofoper und Nationaltheater: Aspekte der Gluckrezeption in Berlin um 1800,” Archiv für Musikwissenschaft 50 (1993): 201-16. Henzel based his analysis on the score, D-B Mus. ms. 7798/1, which is housed at the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Musikabteilung mit Mendelssohn-Archiv (hereafter SBB). Thomas A. Denny has also pointed out changes to Gluck’s operas themselves, as revealed in 19th-century scores in Viennese archives, in “Wiener Quellen zu Glucks “Reform”-Opern: Datierung und Bewertung” in Beiträge zur Wiener Gluck-Überlieferung, ed. Irene Brandenburg and Gerhard Croll (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 2001), 9-72. 83 Hector Berlioz, Memoirs of Hector Berlioz, Member of the French Institute, including his Travels in Italy, Germany, Russia, and England, 1803-1865, trans. and ed. David Cairns (New York, A. A. Knopf, 1969), 448. 84 Henry Chorley, Music and Manners in France and Germany: A Series of Traveling Sketches of Art and Society, vol. 2 (London: Longmans, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1844). 27 performance materials, contemporary reviews, and other documents located in the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin-Preußischer Kulturebesitz, Musikabteilung mit Mendelssohn- Archiv (hereafter SBB) provide us with examples of the changes and adaptations made to Gluck’s operas in the 19th century. This chapter will also discuss performance materials found in the archives and libraries of Dresden, Munich, Vienna, and Weimar to provide a representative sample of adaptations made elsewhere. This chapter will begin with a brief discussion of adaptations made to Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice in the 18th century, which will then provide a starting point to discuss the production of Orpheus und Eurydice in 1808 and 1818 at the Nationaltheater and Hofoper in Berlin. 85 I am examining these earlier productions in order to demonstrate some continuity in the types of changes made to Gluck’s operas. Second, I will focus my discussion on changes in Gluck’s orchestration, the practice of inserting new ballet pieces into his operas, and the effect these changes might have had on the overall character of Gluck’s operas. Third, in this chapter I will discuss the overall context in which Gluck’s operas were performed on the German stage. From Vienna in the 18th century to Berlin in the 19th century, German opera houses subsumed performances of Gluck’s and other composers’ operas into large dynastic events, celebrating birthdays and wedding anniversaries of members of royal households. Most of these events provided composers and poets with the opportunity to add their own music or poetry before, during, or after 85 Gluck’s Orfeo was also frequently performed in Italy, which falls slightly outside our current discussion. Michael F. Robinson provides an interesting overview of these performances in Naples and Neapolitan Opera (Oxford: Claredon Press, 1972), 66-68, and “The 1774 S. Carlo Version of Gluck’s Orfeo,” Chigiana 29 no. 9 (1975): 395-413. The latter provides a chart noting the changes made to Gluck’s Orfeo in Italian theaters. Additionally, a facsimile of the Neapolitan version is available in the collected works of J. C. Bach (The Collected Works of Johann Christian Bach 1735-1782 vol. 11, Orfeo ed Euridice, ed. Ernest Warburton [New York: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1987]). 28 the performance of Gluck’s operas. In so doing, they gave Gluck’s works a nationalistic and patriotic hue, which, in turn, contributed to institutionalizing Gluck’s place in the canon of great German composers for critics and the populace. 86 18th-Century Changes to Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice One of Gluck’s works that has received great respect and attention from the 18th century to today is Orfeo ed Euridice. A. B. Marx, Hector Berlioz, and Franz Liszt praised Gluck’s Orfeo as a revolutionary work that transformed 18th-century operatic conventions and was the first step toward a fully integrated musical drama. 87 Although this opera’s historical importance (i.e., its status as the beginning of a musical revolution) was understood, its performance history in the 19th century was inconsistent with that of Gluck’s other operas. 88 A contributing factor was that the work belonged to the genre of the azione teatrale, which was a short operatic work for large dynastic celebrations. 89 When opera companies staged Orfeo as a stand-alone work, they needed to lengthen the opera to provide audiences with a work of sufficient length, as well as to meet the demands of their singers. Even Gluck needed to expand the work: he made Orfeo the third act of his Feste d’Apollo for Parma, and the Paris version includes far more arias 86 These events contributed to the shared perception among local communities and outside observers that certain principalities, especially Prussia, were the guardians and inheritors of a Classical tradition dating back centuries. These invented traditions of the 19th century promulgated archaic beliefs in the divine right of monarchs and an adherence to the status quo. My analysis here is based on Eric Hobsbawm’s “Introduction: Inventing Traditions,” in The Invention of Tradition, ed. Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983), 1-14. 87 Ludwig Finscher, “Orfeo ed Euridice / Orphée et Euridice,” in Pipers Enzyklopädie des Musiktheaters: Oper, Operette, Musical, Ballet, vol. 2, ed. Carl Dahlhaus and Sieghart Döhring (Munich: Piper, 1986), 436. 88 From the period of 1795 to 1841, Berlin only saw ten stagings of Orpheus und Eurydice, compared with 138 stagings of Iphigenia auf Tauris (Wörner, “Die Pflege Glucks an der Berlin Oper,” 214). 89 Daniel Heartz, Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School, 1740-1780 (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1995), 205. 29 and dance numbers than its Viennese counterpart. 90 In the process of lengthening the opera in the 18th and 19th centuries, companies adapted Orfeo to conform to the changing tastes of their respective audiences. This practice of adapting Gluck’s Orfeo extends back to the 18th century, beginning soon after the premiere in Vienna in 1762. 91 In the 18th century, librettists and composers in other European cities found it necessary to change Gluck’s music to conform to 18th-century opera seria conventions, despite Gluck and Ranieri de’ Calzabigi’s attempts to reform Italian opera. In adapting the role of Orfeo for the castrato Giuseppe Millico, for example, Gluck added short coloratura passages at the end of Orfeo’s arias. 92 When Gluck’s Orfeo was restaged, it was often as a pasticcio in which new or borrowed music by one or more composers elongated the opera. For London’s Haymarket Theater in 1770, the title page of the libretto announced that: In order to make the performance of a necessary length for an evening’s entertainment, Signor Bach has very kindly condescended to add of his own new composition all such choruses, airs, and recitatives, are marked with inverted commas, except those [arias] which are sung by Signora Guglielmi, and they are likewise an entire new production of Signor Guglielmi, her husband. 93 90 For an overview of the alterations Gluck made to change Orfeo into Orphée see Patricia Howard, “From Orfeo to Orphée,” in C.W. von Gluck, 67-83. 91 For an overview of the performance history of Gluck’s Orfeo and other settings of Calzabigi’s text, see Alfred Loewenberg, “Gluck’s Orfeo on the Stage: With some Notes on Other Orpheus Operas,” Musical Quarterly 26, no. 3 (July 1940): 311-39. 92 Daniel Heartz, Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School, 208. Giuseppe Millico sang the lead role in 1769 at the court in Parma, where Gluck presented a series of three short operas with Orfeo as the last act. Gluck’s alterations can be found in the appendix of Orfeo ed Euridice (Wiener Fassung von 1762): azione teatrale per musica in drei Akten, ed. Anna Amalie Abert and Ludwig Finscher (Kassel and New York: Bärenreiter, 1962), ser. 1, vol. 1, Sämtliche Werke (hereafter SW), ed. Gerhard Croll and Rudolf Gerber, (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1951-). 93 Ranieri de’ Calzabigi, Orpheus ed Euridice, Orpheus and Eurydice; an Opera in the Grecian Taste (London: W. Griffin, 1770), n. p. 30 To lengthen the opera for the London performance, the house poet, Giovanni Bottarelli, provided new texts for Euridice and Amore and added the characters Egina, Eagro, Plutone, and an Ombra. As stated in the libretto, Pietro Guglielmi and Johann Christian Bach composed new music. 94 Singing the title role for the London production was the original Orfeo, Gaetano Guadagni, who included his own version of the aria “Men tiranne” for the performance. What Bach and Bottarelli’s adaptation represents, according to Ernest Warburton, is a “contemporary reaction to Gluckian aesthetics.” 95 As stated in the preface to their next reform opera, Alceste, Calzabigi and Gluck wanted “to restrict music to its true office of serving poetry by means of expression and by following the situations of the story, without interrupting the action or stifling it with a useless superfluity of ornaments.” 96 In Orfeo and other reform operas, changes included a curtailment of da capo arias, an avoidance of excessive repetition of the text, greater use of orchestral recitative, shorter ritornellos, and a limited number of coloratura passages. 97 Yet Bach’s music stands in direct contrast to these reforms. His arias are often in da capo form, include long coloratura passages, and extensively repeat lines of text. Bach and other 18th-century composers reshaped Gluck’s Orfeo to align it with the prevailing standards 94 Howard, Orfeo, 62-66. For an analysis of Bach’s arias within Orfeo, see Gabriele Wirth, “Grundsätzliche Anmerkungen zu den Arien von Johann Christian Bach,” in Traditionen – Neuansätze für Anna Amalie Abert (1997), 700-6. 95 Ernest Warburton, introduction to The Collected Works of Johann Christian Bach, 11: viii. 96 Christoph Gluck (actually written by Ranieri de’ Calzabigi), “Dedication for Alceste” (1769), translated in Oliver Strunk, ed. Source Readings in Music History, rev. ed., Leo Treitler, general editor (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1998), 932-34. 97 Heartz, Haydn, Mozart, and the Viennese School, 194-205. 31 of opera seria. 98 Moreover, there were practical considerations to bear in mind when reviving Gluck’s works for the stage, such as audience members’ enjoyment of the prevailing opera seria aesthetic, making sure the opera was of a satisfactory length for subscribers, and ensuring that the singers had ample time on stage. The changes made to Gluck’s Orfeo included three basic aspects: 1) adding new characters, 2) giving the characters Eurydice and Amore additional arias, 3) and inserting new ballets. Regarding the first aspect, opera companies introduced characters who were either from the original Orpheus legend or entirely fabricated. In the London and Naples versions, Orfeo’s father Eagro and sister Egina enter after the overture to explain the dramatic situation in recitativo semplice and then sing their own da-capo arias. The draw back of these interpolated recitatives is that they ultimately disrupt Gluck’s juxtaposition of major and minor key areas that drives the action forward and signifies a change in mood and setting. In the London and Naples version, for example, Eagro’s and Egina’s recitativo semplice at the beginning of act 1, sc. 1 hinders the abrupt shift from Gluck’s brilliant C-major overture to the lamenting C-minor chorus. 99 These insertions of recitativo semplice, however, aligned Gluck’s opera with 18th-century opera seria conventions, which was far more familiar to audience members and signaled that their attention was not fully required. Such conventional structures might have helped audience members grasp and appreciate Gluck’s more innovative moments in Orfeo. 100 98 Richard Engländer, “Zu den Münchener Orfeo-Aufführungen 1773 und 1775,” in Gluck-Jahrbuch, vol. 2, ed. Hermann Abert (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1915), 35. 99 Heartz, Haydn, Mozart, and the Viennese School, 192-93. 100 Heartz, “Orfeo ed Euridice: Some Criticisms, Revisions, and Stage-Realizations during Gluck’s Lifetime,” Chigiana 29-30, nos. 9-10 (1975): 393. 32 Another character that was common to productions in London, Naples, and Munich was the god Plutone. He was first introduced in the London version of 1770 in which he entered in act 1, sc. 3 (act 2, sc. 1 original) to arouse his demons with the recitativo semplice “Implacabili Dei” followed by the aria, “Per onor dell’offeso mio regno” by J. C. Bach. In the 1774 performance in Munich, either Kapellmeisters Andrea Bernasconi or Antonio Tozzi inserted the aria “Quel audace ch’ardisce appressarsi di qui,” which is a parody of the Cadi’s aria “Comment oses-tu te moquer d’un Cadi?” from Gluck’s Le Cadi dupé of 1761. 101 Coming from the opera-comique tradition, this aria is very different than the elaborate da-capo arias usually composed for Plutone. Within the drama of Le Cadi dupé, the Cadi sings “Comment oses-tu te moquer d’un Cadi” in act 2, sc. 9 when he realizes that he has been duped by Zelmire, Fatime, and Nouradin into marrying the dyer’s ugly daughter, Ali. 102 This aria is an excellent example of the rage arias often found in Turkish operas of the 18th century, and to highlight the Cadi’s rage and provide a Turkish flavor to the aria, the first and second violins repeat a sixteenth- note accompaniment figure throughout the entire piece, providing a percussive effect. 103 Gluck sets Cadi’s text syllabically and, especially within the first section, the dactyl rhythm and stubbornly diatonic melody, punctuated by the flute, oboe, horn, and viola, 101 Gluck’s resetting of this Parisian libretto was given at the Burgtheater in December 1761. The libretto was printed in Munich for performances by a French opera troupe at the Altes Hoftheater (Salvator- Theater) in 1766 and in 1768 (Robert Münster, “Christoph Willibald Gluck und München,” in Festschrift Otto Biba zum 60. Geburtstag, ed. Ingrid Fuchs [Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 2006], 80). 102 Bruce Alan Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre in Vienna (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 384-97. 103 Ibid., 387. 33 characterize his rage and obstinacy (Music Example 1.1). 104 In the second section, beginning at m. 14, the music finally breaks free from G major to the dominant, D major. The Cadi’s rage at this point is so uncontrollable that he repeats the line “je te fais pendre à l’instant” (“I’ll hang you in an instant”) three times, while decorating a cadence in D major. The adaptors for the performance in Munich used Calzabigi’s second stanza from the chorus of furies (“D’orror l’ingombrino”) for the second section of Plutone’s aria, as if to suggest that the god is giving to the demons the words that they need to defend his kingdom. 104 With the added syllable in the Italian translation, the dactyl rhythm is slightly obscured. The two- eighth-note pick-up into the downbeat of the first measure gives Pluto’s melodic line an anapestic feel. With that said, Plutone, like the Cadi, repeats the same rhythmic pattern as a sign of his stubbornness. Music Example 1.1: “Quel audace, ch’ardisce,” from act 1, sc. 3, Orfeo (1773), Munich, in D-Dl Mus. ms. 3030-F-13 & & ? ? # # # # c c c c Oboe 1/II Violin I/II Plutone violoncello Basso œ a 2 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ J œ J œ Quel au œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ J œ J œ œ J œ J œ da ce ch'Iar di sceIap pres œ œœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ j œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ J œ J œ œ Œ sar si di qui œœœœœœœœ œœœœœœœœ - - - - - - - 34 Having only one aria, which is not until the third act, operatic companies provided Eurydice with a lot more music when she first appears in Elysium. The London, Munich, and Neapolitan productions all used Bach’s accompanied recitative, “Questo dunque l’Eliso” and cavatina, “Chiari fonti, ermi ritiri.” The text for the cavatina captures not only the pastoral beauty of Elysium, but also Euridice’s emotional ambivalence. On the one hand, Euridice finds this new world peaceful and beautiful, but on the other, she can not find peace without her Orfeo. Bach set “Chiari fonti” as a pastoral cavatina in B-flat major (Music Example 1.2a). The second violins and violas provide a running sixteenth- note accompaniment, representing the crystal fountains, as the first violins enter with a simple melody outlining a B-flat major triad. The first violins’ melody is answered five measures later by the woodwinds (flute, clarinet, and bassoon), over a B b pedal in the bass. The harmonies emphasize the subdominant (E b ) to enhance the pastoral mood. At the beginning, Bach set the text syllabically with few textual repetitions. At the end of the first section, however, Euridice is stuck on the words “l’amoroso mio pensier,” and during the threefold repetition of the line, she draws out the word “pensier” (Music Example 1.2b). Bach used the word repetition and florid text setting to paint Euridice’s lingering thoughts of Orfeo, which ultimately prevent her from entering Elysium. This interpolated scene for Eurydice gave opera companies a way to develop the character, both musically and dramatically. According to Gabriele Wirth, Bach’s cavatina was very popular and circulated widely in manuscripts during the late 18th century. 105 105 Wirth, “Grundsätzliche Anmerkungen,” 705, in W. A. Mozarts “Idomeneo” und die Tradition der Karnevalsopern in München (Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1999), Karl Böhmer points out the frequent use of the cavatina form in the operas Telemaco of Grua and Idomeneo of Mozart as a testament to the form’s popularity on the Munich stage (119). 35 Music Example 1.2b: “Chiari fonti,” mm. 47-52, from act 2, sc. 1, Orfeo, London (1770) and Munich (1773), in D-Dl Mus. ms. 3030-F-13 & b b 4 3 œ œ œ œ œ n 3 mio pen . œ œ . œ œ . œ œ . œ œ . œ n œ . œ œ sier r œ œ œ œ œ œ Ÿ mio pen - - & b b œ . œ œ . œ œ . œ œ . œ œ # sier r œ œ œ œ œ œ Ÿ mio pen œ sier - - - Music Example 1.2a: “Chiari fonti,” mm. 9-12, from act 2, sc. 1, Orfeo, London (1770) and Munich (1773), in D-Dl Mus. ms. 3030-F-13 & & & B ? b b b b b b b b b b Eurydice Vln. I Vln. II Vla. Vc. ˙ . œ œ Chia ri 9 ˙ . œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ fon ti, œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ . œ œ . œ j œ j œ er mi ri . œ œ . œ J œ œ œ œ œ b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ ti ri j œ œ œ Œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ - - - - - 36 After Euridice sings her cavatina, an Ombra welcomes her and beckons her onwards to explore this new realm. Euridice rejects the Ombra’s offer with the recitativo simplice, “Deh lasciatemi in pace,” which then builds into a bravura aria that states her devotion to Orfeo, despite the pain she may endure. In the Munich production, for example, the adaptors inserted a parody of Josef Mysliveček’s “Palesar vorrei col pianto,” from his opera Il Bellerofonte of 1767. 106 Mysliveček’s aria is a forceful, virtuosic showpiece for Giuditta Lodi, who sang Euridice in Munich. Additionally, this aria contains all the elements that Munich audiences loved: an expansive ritornello, concertante writing for a solo instrument, change of tempo, and the dal segno form. 107 Though this interpolated music for Euridice contrasts with Gluck’s original music, Euridice emerges as a much stronger, more dynamic character who denies herself the pleasures of Elysium and remains steadfast in her devotion to Orfeo. 108 Eve Barsham notes that it seems the pasticcio version of the opera was far more popular in London than the original. In 1773, a performance of the original work was a 106 Whether Mysliveček was in Munich for the 1773 opera season has yet to be determined, according to Daniel E. Freeman; see "Mysliveček, Josef," in Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.libproxy.usc.edu/subscriber/article/grove/music/19500 (accessed September 22, 2011). He would return to Munich in 1777 to oversee a performance of Ezio. Mysliveček did direct the 1774 performance of Orfeo in Naples. 107 Böhmer, W. A. Mozarts “Idomeneo”, 121-22. Especially in the early 1770s, opera composers writing for the Munich carnival season used the dal segno form extensively. Antonio Sacchini’s L’eroe cinese, composed for Munich in 1771, contains thirteen dal segno arias; Pietro Sales included ten dal segno arias in his 1774 carnival opera Achille in Sciro. (By 1775, as Böhmer notes, the dal segno aria would lose its popularity, as audiences began to prefer the sonata-form aria.) 108 Additional changes to Gluck’s operas include an interpolated aria for Amore in act 2 in which she appears to inform Euridice that Orfeo will soon arrive and praises her for her devotion. Similar to Euridice’s aria, adaptors often provided the singer of Amore with an aria in da capo form, a long ritornello, and extensive coloratura passages. In the Munich performance, for example, Amore sang a parody of Mirteo’s aria “Bel piacer saria d’un core” from Gluck’s setting of Metastasio’s La Semiramide riconosciuta of 1748. For the performances in Munich and Naples, opera companies added more ballet numbers for the second and third acts. 37 failure and the doctored version was reinstated. 109 In Munich, Gluck’s opera was performed during carnival, but the ambassador from Saxony reported that the audience felt that the opera was far too lugubrious and was “better suited for Holy Week.” 110 When opera companies revived Gluck’s Orfeo during the 18th century, each time they expanded the opera with music that satisfied the tastes of their audiences and performers. 111 After Gluck adapted the opera for the Paris stage in 1774, opera companies throughout Europe still performed the Italian version during the 18th and 19th centuries. 112 By the 19th century, most German opera companies based their translations and adaptations of the opera on the French version. 1808: Orpheus und Eurydice in Berlin Turning now to the Berlin productions of 1808 and 1818, we are provided with a representative example of how one opera company adapted Gluck’s works for 19th- century audiences. As is often noted, Northern German critics and opera companies were slow to accept the reform works produced by Gluck and Calzabigi in the 18th century— Gluck’s works would not hold a permanent place in the Berlin operatic repertoire until the 1790s. 113 Due to Frederick the Great’s conservative taste in music, the Hofoper did 109 Eve Barsham, “Orpheus in England,” in C.W. von Gluck, 63-64. 110 The ambassador’s comments can be found in Heartz, Haydn, Mozart, and the Viennese School, 206. 111 Michael Robinson, “The 1774 S. Carlo Version of Gluck’s Orfeo,” 395-413. 112 Jeremy Hayes, "Orfeo ed Euridice (i)," in The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, ed. Stanley Sadie, Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.libproxy.usc.edu/ subscriber/article/grove/music/O008226 (accessed February 2, 2012). 113 See Thomas Bauman, North German Opera in the Age of Goethe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 239-41, Christoph Henzel, “Von der preußischen Nationaloper zum wahren Musikdrama: Zur Gluckrezeption in Berlin im achtzehnten und neunzehnten Jahrhundert,” in Wien-Berlin: Stationen einer kulturellen Beziehung, ed. Hartmut Grimm, Mathias Hansen, Ludwig Holtmeier (Saarbrücken: Pfau, 2000), 54-63, and Sylvie Le Moël, “Gluck et les publicistes des Lumières allemandes: enjeux esthétiques et identitaires d’une première réception,” Musicorum 9 (March 2011): Les Lumières et la culture musicale européenne: C. W. Gluck, 23-39. 38 not perform Gluck’s Orfeo during the 18th century. 114 When Calzabigi’s libretto made it to the Berlin stage in 1788, it was with Bertoni’s music, not Gluck’s. 115 Johann Carl Friedrich Rellstab presented many of Gluck’s Paris operas at his “Konzert für Kenner und Liebhaber” from 1787 to 1788; these performances were in French and given in a concert format. 116 He also published vocal scores of Gluck’s French grand operas, providing a German translation. 117 In 1808, Gluck’s Orphée made it to the Berlin Nationaltheater in J. D. Sander’s German translation as Orpheus und Eurydice. The performance took place during the French occupation of the city, which sent King Frederick Wilhelm III and Queen Louisa into exile in distant East Prussia. With its royal patrons gone, the Hofoper closed for two years, but the Nationaltheater, no longer reliant on court subsidies, remained open. 118 In 1807, the Hofoper and the Nationaltheater merged to become the Königliche Schauspiele, 114 Eve Barsham, “The Diffusion through Europe,” in Howard, ed. C. W. von Gluck, 62. 115 Bauman, North German Opera, 238. Loewenberg notes that when Bertoni’s version of Orfeo made it to the stage in 1788, it was also accompanied with new music by Johann Friedrich Reichardt (“Gluck’s Orfeo on the Stage,” 328). 116 For more information about these concert performances, see Bauman, North German Opera, 238, and Henzel, “Zwischen Hofoper und Nationaltheater,” 203. According to Dorothea Schlegel (née Brendel Mendelssohn), these early concert performances were very poor. See her letter to Rahel Levin of 13 September 1792, reprinted in Kritische Friedrich-Schlegel-Ausgabe, ed. Ernst Behler, vol. 23, Briefe von und an Friedrich und Dorothea Schlegel (Munich: F. Schöningh, 1958), 62-63. 117 Klaus Hortchansky, “Opera,” in The Archive of the Sing-Akademie zu Berlin Catalogue, ed. Axel Fischer and Mattias Kornemann (Berlin and New York: De Gruyter, 2010), 37. The Sing-Akademie’s first director, Carl Zelter, wrote that Rellstab’s vocal score was acceptable for someone who “already knew the opera, but it is hard to imagine how an amateur could come to grips with it.” 118 Heinz Becker, et al., "Berlin," in Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.libproxy.usc.edu/subscriber/article/grove/music/02826 (accessed September 23, 2011). Additionally, Christoph-Hellmut Mahling has briefly devoted some lines to this topic in “Berlin: ‘Music in the Air,’” in The Early Romantic Era Between Revolutions: 1789 and 1848 ed. Alexander Ringer (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice Hall, 1990), 109-40 and Karim Hassan, Bernhard Anselm Weber (1764-1821): Ein Musiker für das Theater (Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang,1997), 181-90. Vincenzo Righini retained his position as director of the Hofkapelle, which served as the orchestra for Berlin’s theaters. 39 under the direction of August Wilhelm Iffland (1759-1814). 119 Iffland emphasized the performance of German Singspiels but also presented numerous French works in translation. 120 The Nationaltheater performed Orpheus at a time in the city’s history when French operas and ballets dominated the stages, but in adaptations geared to German audiences. 121 The music director of the Nationaltheater was Bernhard Anselm Weber, who had inherited an admiration for Gluck from his teacher, Georg Joseph Vogler. 122 From 1786 to 1792, Vogler was the music director at the court of Gustav III of Sweden, where he and the German musicians Johann Gottlieb Naumann, Joseph Martin Kraus, and Johann Christian Haeffner adapted French and Italian operas to fit the Swedish language. 123 When Weber traveled to Stockholm with his teacher, he heard performances of Gluck’s Orpheus och Euridice (a synthesis of Orfeo and Orphée) and Iphigenie uti Tauriden in 1791. 124 In Orpheus, the tenor Carl Stenborg sang the title role, and the performance 119 Ibid. 120 Karim Hassan, Bernhard Anselm Weber, 178. The French occupiers threatened to establish a French theater that would have competed with the Nationaltheater if Iffland did not produce the latest works from Paris. 121 John Warrack, German Opera from the Beginning to Wagner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 191-213. 122 For a full account of Vogler’s duties in Stockhom see Georg-Helmut Fischer, “Abbé George Joseph Vogler: A Baroque musical genius,” in Gustav III and the Swedish Stage: Opera, Theatre, and Other Foibles. Essays in Honor of Hans Astrand, ed. Bertil H. Van Boer (Lewiston, NY: E. Mellon Press, 1993), 75-102. 123 Warrack, German Opera, 218. See also Bertil H. Van Boer’s “The Gustavian pasticcio: Musical Collaborations,” in Gustav III and the Swedish Stage, 219-35, for additional information regarding the adaptations of foreign works for the Swedish stage. 124 Richard Engländer, “Gluck und der Norden,” Acta Musicologica 24 (1952): 63-83. See also Kathleen Kuzmick Hansell, “Gluck’s Orpheus och Euridice in Stockholm: Performance Practices on the Way from Orfeo to Orphée 1773-1786,” in Gustavian Opera. An Interdisciplinary Reader in Swedish Opera, Dance and Theatre 1771-1809, ed. Gunnar Larsson and Hans Åstrand (Uppsala: Almquist & Wiksell, 1991), 253- 80. 40 included new dance numbers for the second and third acts. 125 According to Karim Hassan, these Swedish performances provided Weber with the opportunity to hear Gluck’s works performed in a country’s vernacular language. 126 After returning to Berlin in 1792, Weber assumed the post of the music director of the Nationaltheater, along with Bernhard Wessley. The following year, he toured Germany and Austria to engage singers for Berlin. 127 During this trip, he met Gluck’s student Antonio Salieri, who furthered his interest in the composer. 128 Upon his return to Berlin in 1795, Weber directed a well-received production of Gluck’s Iphigenia in Tauride (in German) that paved the way for Berliners’ acceptance of the composer in the operatic repertoire. The other aspect of the Stockholm production that inspired Weber was the insertion of new ballet pieces. 129 Additionally, Weber visited Paris in 1803 and wrote with great admiration in his travel journal about the ballet performances he witnessed. 130 Weber admitted that he would have laughed at the possibility of a ballet having such a stirring effect on him. 131 While watching Pierre Gardel’s performance of La Dansomanie, he was deeply moved by “such grace and expression.” 132 When Weber 125 Hassan, Bernhard Anselm Weber, 222. See Finscher, critical commentary to Orfeo ed Euridice in the SW, 198-99 for information about the changes for the Swedish performance. Prior to Gluck adapting the title role for a tenor, the Swedish theatre had already done so with the original Italian vocal line. 126 Hassan, Bernhard Anselm Weber, 224-26. Of note, the first performance of Gluck’s Orfeo in German was in Brno under the direction of Johann Böhm in 1779. There are no accounts of Weber hearing or seeing this performance (Eve Barsham, “The Diffusion through Europe,” C. W. Gluck, 61). 127 E. Van Der Straeten and John D. Drake, "Weber, Bernhard Anselm," in Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.libproxy.usc.edu/subscriber/article/grove/music/29978 (accessed February 2, 2012). Apparently Weber and Wessley did not have a good working relationship (Hassan, Bernhard Anselm Weber, 158-64). 128 Straeten and Drake, “Weber, Bernhard Anselm.” 129 Hassan, Bernhard Anselm Weber, 225. 130 Ibid., 307-8. 131 Bernhard Anselm Weber, Pariser Tagebucher, fol. 19f. cited in ibid., 307. 132 Ibid. 41 returned to Berlin, he took a far more invested interest in creating and producing ballets. He worked with the dancer Etienne Lauchery in creating two comic ballets Arlequin im Schutz der Zauberei (1807) and Arlequins Geburt (1808). 133 Weber’s personal interest in ballet, compounded by the French occupation of the city, led to an increase in the number of ballet pieces inserted into operas. Furthermore, with the Hofoper closed during the occupation, the Nationaltheater found itself with a new dance troupe at its disposal. 134 Weber composed substitution ballets for the 1806 production of Mozart’s Idomeneo and the 1807 production of Piccinni’s Didon, collaborating with the choreographer Lauchery on both projects. Among the few performance materials related to the 1808 production of Orpheus is the manuscript D-B Mus. ms. 7793/3 at the SBB, which contains a keyboard reduction of Gluck’s original dances and French choruses from the second and third acts of Orphée. The manuscript also includes a listing of the dancers’ assignments (Table 1.1), one dance from Écho et Narcisse (Music Example 1.3), and one new dance by an unidentified composer (Music Example 1.4). 133 Additional information about Lauchery family’s influence on ballet in the 18th century can be found in Sibylle Dahms, introduction to Christian Cannabich: “Le redes-cous, ballet de chasse [and] Georg Joseph Vogler: “Le redez-vous de chasse, ou Les vendages interrompues par les chasse,” ed. Floyd K. Grave, part 1 of Ballet Music from the Mannheim Court, ed. Paul Corneilson and Eugene K. Wolf, vol. 45 of Recent Researches in the Music of the Classical Era (Madison: A-R Editions, Inc., 1996), ix-xxii. 134 Ibid., 178. A letter from a certain Herder Reik to an unnamed member of the court, dated 5 May 1810, in the Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Personal und Angelegenheiten der Königlichen Schauspiel, vol. 1, I. HA. Rep. 89 Nr. 21080, claimed that were it not for the ballets at the Nationaltheater during the French occupation, no one would have come to the theater. 42 Title Dance Dancer Original Opera Act II Air des Furies Pas de quatre M ad . Scalesi & Corps de Ballet Orphée Hombres heureuses Corps de Ballet Orphée Mème movement Pas de deux M de et Mll Riebe Orphée Air dolce con espressione (major) Corps de Ballet, Orphée Air dolce con espressione (mineur) Pas de deux M lles Joyeuse and Weitze Orphée Danse des heros et heroïnes (pasted over) [After Orpheus’s recitative “Quel nouveau ciel”] Lent Pas Seul M de Telle Orphée Romanze Lentement and Allegro (Majeur and Mineur) Pas de trois M de Lauchery, M lle Lauchery, and M de Gasperini Écho et Narcisses Act III Ballet de Plaisirs- Musette Unidentified composer Pas de deux avec Gavotte coupée Pas de deux pour M r et M de Telle avec Gavotte par le Corps de Ballet Orphée Air Vif cut Minuet Pas Seul M de Elarsce Orphée Maestoso Légèrement Pas des hommes Orphée The manuscript was likely used for rehearsal, since the score notes which pieces were intended to be cut for performance. What the interpolated ballet numbers represent is the Table 1.1: Dances performed during Orpheus (1808), at the Nationaltheater, Berlin, in D- B Mus. ms. 7793/3 43 continued tradition from the 18th to the 19th century of adding or substituting ballet numbers to please local audiences. Though Weber borrowed a ballet from Gluck’s Écho et Narcisse and the music for “Ballet de Plaisir-Musette” is very simple (see Music Example 1.4), the reviewer for the AmZ claimed that the ballet music was “appreciable music in itself, probably by Weber, but appeared all too contrasting [to Gluck’s music] for the connoisseurs.” 135 135 “Berlin, d. 23sten Apr.,” AmZ 10, no. 33 (11 May 1808): 525. “...an sich schätzbare Musik, vermuthlich von Weber, den Kennern doch allzuabstechend schien.” As will be discussed later, Germans’ negative criticisms of ballet music sometimes represented an attack against their French occupiers. Music Example 1.3: Ballet from Écho et Narcisse performed in Orpheus (1808), at the Nationaltheater, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7793/3 & ? c c Lentement ˙ œ œ œ œ ˙ ˙ S p œ œ œ œ œ œ . ˙ œ S p œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ ˙ # œ . œ . œ . œ . ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ ˙ ˙ & ? b b b b b b 4 2 4 2 S p p 6 œ œ œ œ œ œ . ˙ œ SpS p S p S p œ œ œ œ . œ J œ œ œ œ œ ˙ Ó ˙ Ó ! ! Mineur œ r œ œ œ œ ob. ˙ ! œ œ œ . œ . ˙ ! œ œ œ ˙ ! & ? b b b b b b n n n n n n 13 œ œ œ . œ . ˙ ! œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ œ ! ! Allegretto . œ J œ (originally Allegro in Écho) ˙ ! . œ J œ ˙ ! œ œ . œ œ œ ˙ ! & ? 19 œ œ œ œ œ ˙ ! œ œ r œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ ! œ œ r œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ 44 The cast for this performance included Friedrich Eunike as Orpheus, Margaret Schick as Eurydice, and her daughter Julie Schick as Amor. 136 Their performance was very well reviewed; however, it was not well attended. One reviewer for the Zeitung für die elegante Welt (hereafter ZfdeW) noted that “Berlin’s inhabitants have no money and no desire to attend [the theater], and now the French, too, stay away.” 137 An anonymous reviewer in the local Königlich Privilegierte Berlinische Zeitung von Staats- und Gelehrten Sachen (hereafter Vossische Zeitung) was completely enthralled by the opera: “What power of invention, what deep feeling, what glowing fantasy, and the master’s hand are required in order to create such an artwork that will give the cultured world so 136 The libretto is also located at the SBB, under the call number Mus. T. 87. 137 “...die Einwohner Berlins kein Geld und keine Lust haben hineinzugehn und die Franzosen nun auch weg bleiben”; “Aus Berlin,” Zeitung für die elegante Welt 79 (17 May 1808): 631 (hereafter ZfdeW). Music Example 1.4: “Ballet de Plaisirs-Musette,” in Orpheus (1808), at the Nationaltheater, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7793/3. In the manuscript, a note states that the top line could be performed by either a flute or an oboe and the bottom line by either bassoons or horns. & & # # # # 8 3 8 3 . . . . Andante œ œ œ flute or oboe œ œ œ . œ bassoon or horn œ j œ . œ . œ œ J œ . œ . œ œ j œ . œ . œ œ œ œ œ œ œ . œ œ j œ . œ . œ . œ œ œ œ . œ . œ . œ . œ . œ & & # # # # . . . . 9 œ œ œ œ j œ . œ œ j œ . œ . œ œ œ œ œ j œ . œ œ j œ . œ . œ œ J œ œ j œ . œ œ J œ # œ j œ . œ . œ œ œ # œ j œ . œ . œ œ œ œ . œ & & # # # # . . . . 17 œ œ œ œ œ œ . œ œ j œ . œ . œ œ J œ . œ . œ œ j œ . œ . œ œ œ œ œ œ œ . œ œ j œ . œ . œ . œ œ œ œ . œ . œ . œ . œ . œ Ballet de Plaisèrs-Musette 45 many enjoyable moments.” 138 Despite the work’s French and Italian origins, the reviewer praised the opera as a monument to German art: It does the directors the highest honor that they have erected for us these monuments of German art, which the German Orpheus, Gluck, created so powerfully and truly for us with the irresistible magic of his song, so that they will remain the admiration of posterity, with regard to drama, and the enjoyment of which we had been so long without on our stage––with the splendor and honor, which we owe to the memory of this great German artist. 139 Es gereicht der Direction zu hohen Ehre, daß sie uns diese Monumente deutscher Kunst, die der deutsche Orpheus Gluck mit dem unwiderstehlichen Zauber seine Gesanges, so kraftvoll und wahr schuf, daß sie die Bewunderung der Nachwelt in dramatischer Hinsicht bleiben werden, und deren Genuß wir so lange haben entbehren müssen––mit der Pracht und der Würde auf unserer Bühne aufstellt, die wir dem Andenken dieses großen deutschen Künstlers schuldig sind. 1818: Orpheus und Eurydice in Berlin Despite the positive reviews for the 1808 performance, Berliners had to wait a full decade to hear and see the opera again. Weber restaged the work at the Hofoper with Heinrich Stümer as Orpheus, Anna Milder-Hauptmann as Eurydice, and Maria Therese Eunicke as Eros. 140 Weber added a parody of the aria “Vallons chéris par les amants” from Écho et Narcisse for Eurydice in act 2, sc. 2; he also replaced the trio “Tendre amour” with the trio “Sempre a te sarò fedele” from Paride ed Elena and the chorus ““L’amour triomphe” for “Le Dieu de Paphos et de Gnide” from Écho, in act 3, sc. 3-4. 138 “Welche Erfindungskraft, welches tiefe Gefühl, welche glühende Fantasie, und welche Meisterhand gehören hierzu, ein solches Kunstwerk zu schaffen, das der gebildeten Welt noch so manche genußreiche Augenblicke gewähren wird“; Review of Orpheus by Christoph Gluck (Nationaltheater, Berlin), 23 April 1808, in Königlich Privilegierte Berlinische Zeitung von Staats- und Gelehrten Sachen (hereafter Vossische Zeitung). The playbill for the production was printed in French and German. 139 Ibid. 140 German opera companies used the name Eros instead of Amore or Amour. When discussing the German productions, I will continue to use Eros and the respective French and Italian name. 46 (Full productions of Écho et Narcisse and Paride ed Elena were rarely, if ever, performed on 19th-century German stages.) Sander’s text for “Du schönes Land voll Ruh und Glück” (“Vallons chéris par les amants”) is completely new, whereas the texts for “Ewig werd’ an dir ich hangen!” (“Sempre a te sarò fedele”) and “Der Gott von Paphos und Cythere” (“Le Dieu de Paphos et de Gnide”) are roughly literal translations. The insertions for the 1818 production exist in separate manuscripts at the SBB: “Du schönes Land voll Ruh und Glück” in Mus. ms. 7793/35, “Ewig werd’ an dir ich hangen!” in Mus. ms. 7793/16 and Mus. ms. 7793/17, and “Der Gott von Paphos und Cythere” with four new ballets in Mus. ms. anon. 201. 141 All four manuscripts are lined with thirteen staves and were transcribed by the same copyists in Berlin. “Du schönes Land,” “Ewig werd,’” and “Le Dieu de Paphos et de Gnide” contain the watermark of Lady Fortune standing on a globe, underneath which are the initials VDL, representing the Dutch paper company Van der Ley. 142 Mus. ms. anon. 201 contains watermarks from the companies C. W. Arsand and J. W. Ebart; both companies operated in the Eberswalde region of northeast Brandenburg in the early 19th century. 143 The performance markings make it clear that these manuscripts were used for the performance of Orpheus in 1818. Weber cut thirteen measures from the orchestral introduction of “Der Gott von Paphos und Cythere” by writing “gestrichen” in Rötel on 141 The German translation of the chorus follows that found in the 1818 Orpheus libretto, in the Alfred Schatz Collection, Music Division, Library of Congress, catalogue number 3916. 142 Edward Heawood, Watermarks, Mainly of the 17th and 18th Centuries (Hilversum: Paper Publications Society, 1950), 26. 143 Karin Friese, Papierfabriken im Finowtal. Die Geschichte der Papiermühlen und Papierfabriken vom 16. bis zum 20. Jahrhundert mit einem Katalog ihrer Wasserzeichen (Eberswalde, 1992). I would like to thank Clemens Brenneis of the SBB for finding the watermarks within sources Mus. ms. anon. 201 and Mus. ms. 7793/17. No watermarks were found in 7793/16. 47 the page and gluing a sheet of paper over it. There are two copies of the trio “Ewig werd’ an dir ich hangen”: Mus. ms. 7793/16 contains a setting of the German text as it is found in the libretto, and Mus. ms. 7793/17 has a slight alteration to the text. In Mus. ms. 7793/17, the line “Diesem Heiligthum für mich geschmückt ...” is altered to “Diesem Hain, den man für mich geschmückt... .” It appears that Weber used the altered version (Mus. ms. 7793/17) for the 1818 performance, since that manuscript contains his pencil and Rötel markings. 144 The only complete manuscript score of Orpheus in German translation at the SBB (N. Mus. ms. 10.251), was not used for this performance, however. Kapellmeister Wilhelm Taubert dated the score 15 October 1854, and the manuscript includes the dates of subsequent performances until 1880. Taubert penciled in the names of the performers for the 1854 performance: Frau [Johanna] Wagner, Frau [Louise] Köster, and Frau [Leopoldine Tuczek-] Herrenburger. The translation of Eurydice, Eros, and chorus’s text follows the 1818 libretto, yet the manuscript contains an altered translation of Orpheus’s lines. 145 While N. Mus. ms. 10.251 was not the score used for the 1818 production, the manuscript adheres to certain precedents set forth in past Berlin productions. When Taubert revived Orpheus for the Hofoper in 1854, he continued the practice of inserting an extra aria for Eurydice in act 2, sc. 2 and concluding the opera with “Le Dieu de 144 Examples of Weber’s dynamic markings in Mus. ms. 7793/17 are found in Appendix A. For purposes of comparison, his markings from the performance score of Alceste are also presented in the appendix. 145 This does not suggest that someone copied the manuscript in 1854; it may have been used for a production in the 1840s. Taubert was one of the few Berlin conductors to write a date on the performance scores. As will be discussed with regard to the performance score of Alceste, Weber used the manuscript for the 1817 production, yet the only date on the score is from Taubert, who wrote the year 1848 on the first page of the overture. 48 Paphos et de Gnide.” At the point at which “Du schönes Land” should occur, Taubert wrote “Einlage und der tanz Part: Arie mit Chor” in blue crayon. A red crayon would later cancel this insertion. Another insertion in N. Mus. ms. 10.251 is a four-measure instrumental transition after Amor’s aria “Gli sguardi trattieni” (“Mit Freuden den Willen) in act 1 (Music Example 1.5). 146 Köster, representing Eros, sang the aria in A, and the four-measure orchestral transition brings the music back to G major, the key of Orpheus’s recitative. A pencil notation also indicates that new ballets were prepared for the finale, “Ballet Nrs. 19 & 20,” yet no music remains for them in the score. At the Musiksammlung of the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek (hereafter ÖNB), there maybe two manuscript transcriptions of the 1808 or 1818 Berlin Orpheus. Franz Hadamowsky connected the manuscript score K. T. 328 to the performances of Orfeo ed Euridice in 1781 and 1782. 147 The manuscript is bound in three volumes. The 146 The manuscript at the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, O. A. 15041, contains the same four-measure orchestral transition from the Berlin performance score of Orpheus 147 Franz Hadamowsky, Die Wiener Hoftheater (Staatstheater) 1776-1966: Verzeichnis der aufgeführten Stücke mit Bestandsnachweis und täglichen Spielplan (Vienna: Prachner, 1966), 335-36. Music Example 1.5: Four-measure transition after Eros’s aria “Mit Freuden den Willen” from act 1, sc.2, Orpheus (1854?), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B N. Mus. ms. 10.251 49 first two volumes contain the first and second acts in a German translation that is the same as the 1818 libretto to the Berlin Orpheus. There are two dances from Écho et Narcisse, a “Romance Lentement” and an Allegretto, that appear in act 2 but bear the remark “Ende der Oper.” 148 Additionally, the Air Vif from the last act of Orphée (originally in C) is transposed to the key of D and moved to act 2 after the “Dance of the Furies.” Yet the inserted vocal pieces, or any indication thereof, are nowhere to be found in the score. Based on paper analysis, Thomas Denny dates these two volumes to around 1813. 149 The third volume, under the same call number, contains the entire opera in the original Italian. Denny argues that the Viennese Hofoper did not use the third volume for the 1781 and 1782 performances; instead, the score was used for a private performance featuring an unnamed soprano-castrato in Padua. 150 A later copy of Orpheus at ÖNB, O. A. 308, uses the translation from the 1818 libretto, but also lacks the music for the insertions. 151 It does, however, contain markings indicting where the insertions belong. At the final chorus of act 3, for example, there are handwritten indications to insert the “Schlußchor in Es dur nur Echò e Narcißes” (sic) and “aus Echo und Narcisus mit Tanz” (sic). The copyist added three measures of music, in which Eros sings “Wen[n] meine Blicke lächeln, das Leid muß fliehen,” to transition to E major, the key of the final chorus from Écho. At the beginning of act 3, the copyist used paper on the back of which is a horn in F part for Otto Nicolai’s Il Templario, which 148 Denny, “Wiener Quellen zu Glucks ‘Reform’ Opern,” 16. 149 Ibid. 150 Ibid.,15-18. Denny notes that Orpheus’s vocal line was transposed for a soprano castrato. 151 The manuscript used both the Italian and French versions of the score as a model. The copyist wrote the stage directions in Italian. The score includes dances from the French version. The recitatives, however, alternate between the Italian and French. 50 was composed in 1840. 152 Though Vienna hosted the premiere of Orfeo in 1762 and then performances in 1781 and 1782, neither the Hofoper nor any other Viennese theater restaged the opera until 1882. 153 A Viennese copyist likely prepared the manuscript O. A. 308 for the 1882 revival, but the score was not used for the performance. 154 Between 1807 and 1810, the Hofoper staged a series of Gluck’s operas: Iphigenia in Aulis, Iphigenia in Tauris, Armide, and Alceste. The soprano Milder-Hauptmann lived in the city at the time, and given that the score K. T. 328 was copied around 1813, perhaps the Hofoper was preparing for a performance of Orpheus with Milder- Hauptmann as Eurydice. 155 But, Milder-Hauptmann relocated to Berlin in 1815, and with her went Vienna’s Gluck tradition. (Iphigenia in Tauris made brief reappearances.) The Viennese Hofoper scrapped their plans for a revival of Orpheus, and the copyist left the score unfinished. It seems that the actual performance scores for the 1808 and 1818 Berlin performances of Orpheus are lost. But based on the libretto and remaining sources, we can reconstruct what likely occurred on the stage of the Berlin Hofoper in 1818. 156 Berlin 152 I would like to thank Bruce Brown for examining this source in the Musiksammlung and finding the music by Nicolai. 153 Hadamowsky, Die Wiener Hoftheater, 357 154 Throughout O. A. 308, the stage directions are in Italian. Most of the vocal writing follows the original Italian version, but the score still uses Sander’s German translation from the French and the dances from the Paris version. 155 Josef von Spaun wrote of Schubert’s admiration of Milder’s performance of Iphigenia in Notes on my Association with Franz Schubert (1858) reprinted in Otto Deutsch, Schubert: Memoirs by his Friends, trans. Rosamond Ley and John Nowell (New York: The Macmillan Co., 1958), 129. Regarding Schubert’s compositions for Milder, see Andread Meyer, “‘Gluck’sches Gestöhn’ und ‘welches Larifari’: Anna Milder, Franz Schubert und der deutsch-italienische Opernkrieg,” Archiv für Musikwissenschaft 52 no. 3 (1995): 171-204. 156 In 1817, fire destroyed the Nationaltheater’s home, and the king commissioned Karl Friedrich Schinkel to design a new theatre. The result was the neoclassical Schauspielhaus, completed in 1821 and inaugurated with Carl Maria von Weber’s Der Freischütz (Mahling, “Music in the air,” 114). 51 kept the first act of the French version intact, and all the new music comes in the second and third acts. Act 2, sc. 2 begins with the aria for Eurydice and chorus “Nur Freude, Glück und Wonne” (“Cet azile aimable et tranquile”). The choir then steps back, and Eurydice sings her cavatina “Du schönes Land” (“Vallons chéris”). At the Parisian premiere of Écho et Narcisse in 1779 the character Amour sang this air at the beginning of act 3 for the funeral for Echo. Gluck slightly altered the text in his setting, changing “Vallons secrets chers aux amants” in the libretto to “Vallons chéris par les amants” in the score. He then cut this air for the 1780 revival of Écho at the Opéra. When Écho was published, however, the printer Des Lauriers included the music for “Vallons chéris,” explaining that “...les Amateurs qui ont paru regretter de ne plus l’entendre à l’Opéra, eussent le plaisir de le retrouver ici.” 157 In 1787, the air was published in a collection of songs entitled Flora, which was distributed by the publishing firm Hofmann in Hamburg. 158 Sander provided an entirely new text that underscores Eurydice’s conflicting emotions: Du shönes Land voll Ruh’ und Glück, Hier ist das Leben ewiges Genießen! Wer sehnt sich hier in jene Welt zurück, Wo manche bittre Thränen fließen! Und dennoch fühle mir in Herz oft Leere! Man läßt mich ja wohl ganz allein. Dann denk’ ich: ‘dort war Orpheus mein!’ –– Wie ganz beseligt würd’ ich seyn, Wenn dieser treue Freund an meiner Seite wäre! 157 Christoph Gluck, Écho et Narcisse, ed. Konrad Roetscher, in SW, VII, (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1955), 57. 158 Cecil Hopkins, A Bibliography of the Printed Works of C. W. von Gluck 1714-1787 2nd ed. (New York: Broude Brothers Limited, 1967), 64. 52 Du schönes Land voll Ruh’ und Glück! Sey hier das Leben ewiges Genießen: Ich sehne mich in jene Welt zurück, Obgleich dort manche Thränen fließen. You beautiful country full of peace and happiness; / here life is eternal pleasure! / Who here longs to return to that world / where many bitter tears are flowing? / And yet, my heart often feels empty! / I am left all alone. / And I think: ‘there Orpheus was mine!’–– / How very happy I would be, / if this faithful friend was by my side! / You beautiful land full of peace and happiness! / Life may be eternal pleasure here: / [yet] I long to return to that other world, / even though many tears are flowing there. 159 In the original text by Jean-Baptiste-Louis-Théodore Tschudi, Amour calls upon nature to calm the mourners’ pain over the lose of Echo. In Sander’s adaptation, Eurydice acknowledges the beauty that is around her but is unable to forget Orpheus. Sander’s version recalls the same conflicting emotions found in Bach’s cavatina “Chiari fonti.” Sander constructed the overall text in the form of question and answer. The poem begins with Eurydice asking the question, “Who here longs to return to that world where many bitter tears are flowing?”; she comments on the emptiness she feels in her heart without Orpheus in the second stanza; this leads her to answer her own question by the third stanza, saying that it is she who longs “to return to that world, even though many tears are flowing there.” 159 Here is the original French text from Écho et Narcisse: “Vallons secret chers aux amans! / O vous témoins de leur plainte touchantes! / Retracez toujours à leurs sens / le sort malheureux d’une Amante. / Qu’une voix tendre & languissante / du fond de vos Bois gémis sans, / reponde à leurs tristes accens. / Par ce prestige, ô lieux charmans! / Calmez leur peine, & flattez leur attente.” 53 The cavatina was a popular vocal genre for 19th-century audiences. 160 For the tenor Johann Friedrich Eunike in the 1806 production of Idomeneo, Weber replaced Idamante’s first-act aria “Il padre adorato” with Ferrando’s cavatina “Tradito, schernito dal perfido cor” (“Verstoßen, verschmäht”) from Così fan tutte. 161 Given that the role of Idamante was written for a soprano castrato, it was easier for Weber to replace the aria with something Mozart had already composed for a tenor. As Helga Lühning notes that in the 19th century, composers considered the cavatina an important dramaturgical moment for the prima donna––in her moment of solitude, she expressed her feelings of love and hope for her lover or family. 162 Three years after the production of Orpheus, in 1821, the city saw the premiere of Carl Maria von Weber’s Der Freischütz. In this opera, Agathe’s cavatina, “Und ob die Wolke sie verhülle,” comes in the second scene of act 3, where she prays for her lover Max, but also the cavatina provide listeners with a moment of respite after the uncouth music of the Wolf’s Glen scene. For Orpheus, Eurydice’s cavatina functions as a prolongation of the calming atmosphere of the Elysian Fields, away from the dark, biting music of Hades. In choosing this air from Écho et Narcisse, B. A. Weber, like J. C. Bach, used a cavatina to enhance the pastoral mood of Elysium (Music Example 1.6). 163 As discussed 160 Helga Lühning, “Arie und Cavatina. Zum Wandel der Solonummern im Lichte des Paradigmenwechsels um 1800,” in Oper im Aufbruch: Gattungskonzepte des deutschsprachigen Musiktheaters um 1800, ed. Marcus Lippe (Kassel: Gustav Bosse, 2007), 69-78. 161 Bruce Alan Brown, critical commentary to Idomeneo by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, ed. Daniel Heartz in Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke, Kritische Berichte, Ser. 2, Bühnenwerke: Werkgruppe 5, vol. 11 (Kassel and New York: Bärenreiter, 2005), 64-65. 162 Lühing, “Arie und Cavatina,” 77. 163 Additionally, Milder preferred arias with little or no coloratura. For the 1814 revival of Fidelio, she had Beethoven cut many of the more elaborate passagework in Leonora’s music (Winton Dean, “Beethoven and Opera,” in Ludwig van Beethoven: “Fidelio”, ed. Paul Robinson [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996], 46). 54 above, Bach provided the pastoral cavatina “Chiari fonti,” which sonically depicted Elysium’s crystal fountains. “Du schönes Land” is set in the key of F major, and the orchestration is only strings, clarinets, horns, and bassoons. The setting of the text is syllabic, opening with a four-note motive (a’-f’-g’-a’) in the voice and strings, which the clarinet and horn echo in the next measure. 55 Music Example 1.6: “Du schönes Land voll Ruh’ und Glück, / Hier ist das Leben ewiges Geniessen!” from act 2, sc. 2, Orpheus (1818), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7793/35 & ? & & ? b b b b b 4 2 4 2 4 2 4 2 4 2 2 Clarinetti in C 2 Corni in F Bassoon Eurydice Strings Cavatina Andante p p p ! ! ‰ U j œ j œ j œ Du schön es œ œ œ U œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ U ‰ J œ p p ‰ j œ œ U œ œ œ œ Œ U œ œ Œ Land œ œ œ Œ j œ ‰ Œ œ œ Œ J œ ‰ Œ ‰ J œ j œ j œ voll Ruh und ‰ j œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ J œ Œ œ ‰ j œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ œ œ Œ Glück, œ œ œ Œ j œ ‰ Œ œ œ Œ j œ ‰ Œ ‰ J œ j œ J œ Hier ist das ‰ J œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ j œ Œ œ - Clarinet 1 and horn 1 double each other on the top voice, and clarinet 2 and horn 2 double each other on the bottom voice. 56 & ? & & ? b b b b b Ww Bsn. Eurydice Strs. ! ! œ J œ J œ Le ben œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ! ! J œ J œ J œ j œ ew ig es Ge œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ ‰ J œ œ ! . œ J œ nies . . œ œ J œ œ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ œ œ Œ sen! œ œ Œ œ œ Œ . . œ œ J œ œ œ œ ! ! ! œ œ Œ œ Œ ! ! ! - - - - - Music Example 1.6 (Continued) 57 The second section begins in m. 25 with a fairly atypical move to the relative minor, D. In its original setting, Gluck’s music depicted a “tender and languishing voice,” and in Orpheus, the music captures the emptiness in Eurydice’s heart. Particularly moving is the opening of the second section, in which Eurydice’s vocal line fluctuates between the notes a’ and b b ’ for six measures, as if to represent her lingering thoughts on Orpheus (Music Example 1.7). The accompanying bass line descends by step from F to C#. Finally, on the words “man läßt mich ja wohl ganz allein,” she breaks free and brings in a new melody (d’- c#’- d’-e’-f’). The second section ends with a prolongation of the dominant of F, preparing for the return to the first section. The music moves back to the key of F major when Eurydice sings, “how blessed I would be when this true friend is by my side.” 58 & & & ? b b b b 4 2 4 2 4 2 4 2 2 Clarinets 2 Corni Violin I Viola Eurydice Violin II Bassi ! Œ œ ˙ Œ œ und Œ œ ! ˙ ˙ œ œ denn noch ˙ ˙ ! . œ j œ ˙ . œ J œ fühlt mein ˙ # ˙ ! . œ j œ ˙ . œ J œ Herz oft ˙ ˙ ! . œ j œ ˙ # . œ J œ Lee ˙ ˙ # ! œ ‰ j œ œ ‰ J œ œ ‰ J œ re man œ ‰ j œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ # œ œ œ œ œ # J œ # J œ J œ J œ läßt mich ja wohl œ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ # œ œ J œ J œ ganz al œ œ œ ˙ ˙ œ # œ œ . œ J œ # œ # Œ lein. œ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ # œ ! œ œ œ - - - Music Example 1.7: “Du schönes Land,” mm. 25-35, from act 2, sc. 2, Orpheus (1818), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7793/35. Lines “und dennoch fühlt mein Herz oft Leere/ man läßt mich ja wohl ganz allein.” 59 As was the case for 18th-century productions of Orfeo, the musical insertions for Eurydice created a richer character than in the original version. Additionally, Milder- Hauptmann was a very popular singer in Berlin, and audiences attended performances specifically to hear her sing Gluck’s heroines. 164 In an announcement for the 1818 Orpheus performance, a writer for the Vossiche Zeitung called the singer “Orfea Milder,” linking her with the great demigod of music. 165 It was odd then that Milder never took on the role of Gluck’s Orpheus. 166 One possible explanation for this is that during the 19th century critics debated whether the verisimilitude of appearance should triumph over preserving the composer’s music exactly as written. For productions of Mozart’s La clemenza di Tito, for example, opera companies often transposed the role of Sesto for a male tenor, which provided a degree of realism but ruined the voice leading in many of the ensembles. 167 For Orfeo, Orphée, and Orpheus, many opera companies transposed the role of Orpheus for a female singer, often a contralto. The Milanese Conservatory did this in 1813, Berlin in 1821 and 1854, and then Berlioz codified the practice with his version of Orphée in 1859. 168 After Eurydice’s cavatina, in the 1818 production, Orpheus enters with the orchestral recitative “Ein schöner Himmel” (“Quel nouveau ciel”), and the act concludes as in the French version. 164 For comments on Milder’s impact on musical life in Berlin, see Henry F. Chorley, Modern German Music: Recollections and Criticisms, vol. 1 (London: Smith, Elder, and Co., 1854), 127-28. Oddly, Chorley visited Berlin after Milder’s departure, but her impact was so strong that her legacy was still evident. 165 “Theater,” Vossische Zeitung (17 January 1818). Anna Brownell Jameson claims that “no one... ever heard her sing a note of Rossini” (Visits and Sketches at Home and Abroad, vol. 2, 3rd ed. [London: Saunders and Otley, 1839], 8). 166 In 1807, Milder did appear in the title role of Friedrich August Kanne’s Orpheus. 167 John Rice, W. A. Mozart: La Clemenza di Tito (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 110. 168 Jeremy Hayes, "Orfeo ed Euridice (i)," in The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, ed. Stanley Sadie. Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.libproxy.usc. edu/subscriber/article/grove/music/O008226 (accessed March 9, 2012). 60 The third act matches the French version until Eros returns Eurydice to life. At this point, Orpheus ends with the chorus “Le Dieu de Paphos et de Gnide” from Écho et Narcisse (replacing “L’amour triomphe”) and the trio “Sempre a te sarò fedele” from Paride ed Elena (replacing “Tendre amour”). Regarding the replacement of “L’amour triomphe” with “Le Dieu de Paphos,” this practice derives from 19th-century Parisian performances of Orphée. Though Gluck’s Écho et Narcisse was a failure on the Paris stage, the last chorus, “Le Dieu de Paphos,” and other parts of the opera were very popular and were performed in other contexts. 169 J. B. F. A. Lefebvre (1738-1814) copied the 19th-century performance score of Orphée, which contains the aria “O combat, o désordre extrème” from Écho et Narcisse (sung by the tenor Adolphe Nourrit in place of “L’espoir renaît dans mon âme” in act 1, sc. 4) and the chorus “Le Dieu de Paphos” at the finale. 170 For an 1809 performance in Paris, the libretto contains the chorus “Le Dieu de Paphos.” Yet Nourrit did not substitute “O combat” for “L’espoir renaît,” however, until the 1824 performance. (As a result of the 1824 production, Nicolo printed a piano reduction of Orphée which included these two substitutions.) 171 In the original ending for both Orfeo and Orphée, Gluck’s final chorus adopted the strophic form of the vaudeville from French opéra-comique tradition. 172 The form of the vaudeville was a chain of solo couplets interspersed with choral refrains. With the 169 Hedwig and E. H. Mueller von Asow, The Collected Correspondence and Papers of Christoph Willibald Gluck, trans. Stewart Thomson (New York: St. Martin’s Press Inc., 1962), 168. 170 Finscher, critical commentary to Orphée, 337-38. 171 Fauquet, “Berlioz’s Version of Gluck’s Orphée,” 215. Berlioz continued to use “Le Dieu de Paphos” as the final chorus of Orphée in his 1859 adaptation. 172 Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre, 366. 61 substitution chorus “Le Dieu de Paphos,” audiences heard a mass chorus of voices celebrating the love of Orpheus and Eurydice (Music Example 1.8). Music Example 1.8: “Der Gott von Paphos und Cythere,” chorus with first and second violins, from act 3, finale, Orpheus (1818), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. anon. 201 & & & & V ? & ? # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # c c c c c c c c Corni Flutes Oboes Clarinets in C Soprano Alto Tenor Bass Strings p p p p p p p p ˙ ˙ Ó ˙ ˙ Œ œ œ Ó Œ œ Le Der Ó Œ œ Le Der Ó Œ œ Le Der Ó Œ œ Le Der ˙ ˙ ˙ Œ œ ˙ ˙ Œ œ œ w a2 ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ œ œ dieu Gott de Pa von ˙ œ œ dieu Gott de Pa von ˙ œ œ dieu Gott de Pa von ˙ œ œ dieu Gott de Pa von œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ ˙ Ó ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ Ó phos Pa phos . ˙ œ ˙ Ó phos Pa phos . ˙ œ ˙ Ó phos Pa phos ˙ ˙ ˙ Ó phos Pa phos ˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ et und de Cy ˙ ˙ et und de Cy ˙ ˙ et und de Cy ˙ ˙ et und de Cy œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ œ œ Gni the de re a be ˙ œ œ Gni the de re a be ˙ œ œ Gni the de re a be ˙ œ œ Gni the de re a be œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 62 Music Example 1.8 (Continued) & & & & V ? & ? # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # Corni fl. ob. cl. S A T B Str w . . . ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ . ˙ œ ni seelt me des . ˙ œ ni seelt me des . ˙ œ ni seelt me des . ˙ œ ni seelt me des œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ ˙ Ó w . . . ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ . ˙ œ seul Welt tout alls . ˙ œ seul Welt tout alls . ˙ œ seul Welt tout alls . ˙ œ seul Welt tout alls œ œ œ œ œ œ œ . . ˙ ˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ l'u gan ni zen ˙ ˙ l'u gan ni zen ˙ ˙ l'u gan ni zen ˙ ˙ l'u gan ni zen œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ Ó ˙ ˙ ˙ Œ œ ˙ Œ œ vers. Kreis Au die ˙ Œ œ vers. Kreis Au die ˙ Œ œ vers. Kreis Au die ˙ Œ œ vers. Kreis Au die œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ ˙ Ó - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 63 As for the 1818 Orpheus, Weber altered Gluck’s overall scheme of the final scene. The original structure of the finale to Orphée was the trio “Tendre amour” followed by the vaudeville “L’amour triomphe” and then by the closing dance numbers. The layout in the Berlin version is the chorus “Der Gott von Paphos und Cythere” followed by the trio “Ewig werd‘ an dir ich hangen,” and then by dance numbers, which transition to a reprise of “Der Gott von Paphos und Cythere.” Here is a transcription of the last two scenes as they were printed in the 1818 libretto: Berlin Orpheus third and final scenes (libretto) Ein Chor von Hirten und Hirtinnen. Nachher Eros, Orpheus und Eurydice Chor. [A chorus of Shepherds and Shepherdesses. Afterward the chorus of Eros, Orpheus, and Eurydice.] Der Gott von Paphos und Cythere Beseelt des Weltalls ganzen Kreis. Die Luft ertönt von seiner Ehre; Ihm huldigt alles, ohne Lehre, Und liebt und singt zu seinem Preis. Er macht das Daseyn erst zum Leben, Erhöh’s der Schönheit Reitze [sic] noch. Ihn darf sogar der Weis’ erheben; Veredelt Lieb’ auch seine Tage doch. Wenn einst das Herz nicht länger glühet, Dann schwindet wohl der Sinne Lust; Doch Eros läßt, wenn er entfliehet, Zum herrlichsten Ersatz, der Freundschaft- treue Brust. 173 [The god of Paphos and Cythere / animates the entire cycle of the universe. / The air resounds with his honor; / all pay tribute to him, 173 From the 1780 libretto to Écho et Narcisse: “Le Dieu de Paphos & de Gnide / anime seul tout l’univers, / au haut des airs / Il atteint l’oiseau rapide. / Il embrasse la Néréïde / jusques dans le sein des mers. / Il embellit le jeunesse, / il réunit la grace à la beauté, / c’est lui qui pare la sagesse / des attaits de la volupté. / C’est encore lui qui nous console , Lorsque nous perdons ses faveurs / ce Dieu charmant lorsqu’il s’envole, / nous laisse l’amitié pour essuyer nos pleurs. 64 without prompting, / and loves and sings his praise. / Only through him does existence become life, / and the charms of beauty are intensified further. / Even the wise may exalt him; / for love ennobles his days, too. / One day when the heart no longer glows, / sensual desire will fade; / yet Eros leaves, when he escapes, / as his finest replacement the faithful heart of friendship.] Terzett. Orpheus. Ewig werd’ an dir ich hangen! [I will cling to you forever!] Eurydice. Du allein bist mein Verlangen! [You alone are my desire!] Beide [Both]. O, Geliebte/ Geliebter, welchen süßen Schmerz; Fühlt mein Herz! [O, beloved, / what sweet pain / my heart feels!] Orpheus. Du bleibst stets mein einziger Gedanke [You always remain my only thought] Eurydice. Daß ich nie in meiner Liebe wanke. [That I may never waver in my love.] Beide. Liebe und Treue Schwör ich dir aufs neue. [Love and Faithfulness / I swear to you again.] Orpheus. Du bleibst stets mein einziger Gedanke [You always remain my only thought] Eurydice. Daß ich nie in meiner Liebe wanke. [That I may never waver in my love.] 65 Beide. [Das] bewährt mein volles Herz. [This my whole heart affirms.] Eros. Diesem Heiligthum für mich geschmückt, Sey nun euer Leben gleich: Mit der Liebe vollstem Maaß beglückt Und an hohen Freuden reich. [May your life be adorned / just as this sanctuary is for me: / Blessed to the fullest measure of love / and full of great joys.] Orpheus und Eurydice. Diesem Heiligthum für mich geschmückt, Sey nun euer Leben gleich: Mit der Liebe vollstem Maaß beglückt Und an hohen Freuden reich. 174 [May your life be adorned / just as this sanctuary is for me: Blessed to the fullest measure of love / and full of great joys.] (Tänze.) Schluß-Chor. Du, Gott von Paphos und Cythere, Beseelst des Weltalls ganzen Kreis. Die Luft ertönt von seiner Ehre; Ihm huldigt alles, ohne Lehre, Und liebt und singt zu seinem Preis. Du machst das Daseyn erst zum Leben, Erhöh’s der Schönheit Reitze [sic] noch. Dich darf sogar der Weis’ erheben; Veredelt Lieb’ auch seine Tage doch. (Während dieses Strophe entfernt sich Eros) Wenn einst das Herz nicht länger glühet, Dann schwindet wohl der Sinne Lust; 174 From libretto of Paride ed Elena: “Paride: Sempre a te sarò fedele--- / Elena: Sarò a te fedele anch’io-- / A due: Te lo giuro, idolo mio, / dolce affanno del mio cor. / Sorte placida o crudele... / Paride: ... non sarà che un altro oggetto... / Elena: ... non sarà che un altro oggetto... / A due: ... mai dia legge a questo cor. / Amore: Quella face, che nell’anima / Vi destò sì vivo ardor... / Paride ed Elena: Ci destò sì vivo ardor / Amore: Chiara ognora farà risplendere / Paride ed Elena: Chiara ognora faccia risplendere... / Elena, Paride ed Amore: Fra’ contenti amico Amor.” 66 Doch Eros läßt, wenn er entfliehet, Zum herrlichsten Ersatz, des Freundestreue Brust. [You, the god of Paphos and Cythere / animates the entire cycle of the universe. / The air resounds with his honor; / all pay tribute to him, without prompting, / and loves and sings his praise. / Only through him does existence become life, / and the charms of beauty are intensified further. / Even the wise may exalt him; / for love ennobles his days, too. / (Eros exists during this strophe.) / One day when the heart no longer glows, / sensual desire will fade; / yet Eros leaves, when he escapes,/ as his finest replacement the faithful heart of friendship.] When the chorus “Der Gott von Paphos und Cythere” returns, the text is slightly altered to make a direct appeal to the gods, calling upon “You, the god of Paphos and Cythere, give soul to the entire cycle of the universe.” While “Le Dieu de Paphos” came from Parisian performance sources, Weber seems to have conceived of the substitution of “Tendre amour” for “Sempre a te sarò fedele” on his own. Gluck borrowed and reworked the trio “Ah lo veggo” from Paride ed Elena to create the trio “Tendre amour” for Orphée. 175 In its original dramatic context, the trio “Ah lo veggo” comes in act 4, when Helena, having read Paris’s letter stating that the gods promised her to him, hands the letter to Erasto (Amore in disguise) to return it to Paris, thereby rejecting his proposal and the will of the gods. Gluck’s musical setting of the trio is foreboding and reveals the mixed emotions of the characters. In Orphée, the trio comes at act 3, sc. 3 after Amore restores Eurydice to Orpheus. The trio “Tendre amour” in this dramatic situation becomes a reflection by the three main 175 Another reason for this change could be an oversight. In the original 1774 print of Orphée from Des Lauriers, “Tendre amour” is embedded within the closing dances, between the fifth and sixth dances, not where it should be performed—after the return of Eurydice and before “L’Amour triomphe.” In a manuscript copy of the score and performance parts of Orphée (SA 992, 993) from the Sing-Akademie zu Berlin collection, the transcriber copied “Tendre amour” in its correct position in the third act. 67 characters on the bonds and pains of love. It begins in the gloomy key of E minor with a driving ostinato in the violins and a lugubrious melody in the bass (Music Example 1.9a). 176 While this music may seem out of place within this scene of the lovers’ reunion, it mirrors Orpheus’s own psychological movement from despair to happiness. Furthermore, Gluck’s music captures both the mixture of images in the text (“chaînes,” “peines,” “charmes”) and reiterates, in a microcosm, the juxtaposition of minor and major key areas that characterizes the entire opera. When the trio shifts to the parallel key of E major, the music acts as a prolonged articulation of the dominant to the final chorus “L’Amour triomphe” in A major. In the 1818 Orpheus, this transformation from dark to light is now missing. The trio “Ewig werd’ an dir ich hangen!” begins and ends in the key of C major (Music Example 1.9b), and “Der Gott von Paphos und Cythere” is in the key of E major. Instead 176 Example from Alfred Wotquenne, Catalogue thématique des oeuvres de Chr. W. v. Gluck (1714-1787) (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1904), 118. Music Example 1.9a: “Tendre Amour” from act 3, sc. 3, Orphée (1774), Académie Royale de Musique, Paris, example from Wotquenne, Catalogue thématique 68 of mirroring Orpheus’s transformation from depression to happiness, as in Orphée, the music reinforces the eternal bliss and fidelity of Orpheus and Eurydice. In both operas, the trio serves as a joyful finale in which the lovers reiterate their faithfulness to each other. 69 Music Example 1.9b: “Ewig werd’ an dir ich hangen!” from act 3, finale, Orpheus (1818) at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7793/35 70 Weber often replaced or added new ensemble pieces to operas by other composers. He added, for example, the duet “Sollte der Tod ereilen” to Mozart’s Idomeneo, an aria and trio to Dalayrac’s Raoul von Crequi, and a grand scene for soloist and chorus to Grétry’s Richard Cœur-de-lion. 177 In the case of Idomeneo, it was not only what Weber added that provided more ensembles, but also what he removed: he cut the first two scenes of the opera, so that the entire work begins with the chorus “Godiam la pace, trionfi Amore” (“Erhebet den Frieden”), which is followed by an interpolated march. 178 Weber made this cut to align with the work with the early 19th-century convention to beginning an opera with a chorus or ensemble. For Grétry’s Richard, Weber encountered a similar situation as with Gluck’s Orpheus: Grétry composed little music for the role of Countess Marguerite of Flanders– she has no solo arias, and in the third act, she only sings in the ensemble, “Oui, chevaliers, oui ce rempart.” 179 In the original first act, when Marguerite, who is in love with King Richard, appears on stage, the splendor of her retinue is only described in dialogue by the characters Blondel, Laurette, and Antonio. For the Berlin production, Weber inserted a sixty-two measure march by Joseph Weigl that builds into Weber’s chorus “Festlich, mit frohem Gesange” in the key of C major (Music Example 1.10). 180 Heartbroken over Richard, Marguerite begins her aria “Blümchen der Aue” in the key of 177 Hassan, Bernhard Anselm Weber, appendix. A list of stage insertions are also listed in his obituary, “Bernhard Anselm Weber,” Berlinische Nachrichten 1821. 178 Brown, critical commentary to Idomeneo, 64. A majority of the simple recitatives were also cut. 179 David Charlton, Grétry and the Growth of Opéra-Comique (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 232. It would become standard practice in the Revolutionary period for librettists and composers to curtail or eliminate music for aristocratic characters. 180 D-B Mus. ms. 8519 available on line at <http://www.oper-um-1800.uni- koeln.de/einzeldarstellung_scan.php?id_werke=540&id_scan=370&herkunft=> (accessed 6 February 2012). The Munich Hofoper also added a march to announce Marguerite’s arrival. 71 A minor, scored for solo oboe and strings. The tempo quickens in the second half and moves to the key of A major, as Marguerite imagines that Richard’s pain is replaced with joy. The chorus reenters, pulling the music back to A minor, but as Marguerite continues to sing of her determination to find Richard, she and the chorus move into the key of G major. The entire scene ends with the intimation of a prayer, uttered by the orchestra alone. The new music for Richard suggests that Weber altered operatic works to provide a greater degree of spectacle and more ensemble numbers for his Berlin audiences— especially numbers that pitted the chorus against a soloist or small ensemble. Turning back to Orpheus, Weber’s closing scene does just this: he frames the trio and ballet with the chorus to create a sonic tableaux. Music Example 1.10: March by Joseph Weigl, the chorus “Festlich mit frohem Gesange,” and the aria “Blümchen der Aue” by B. A. Weber, act 1, Richard Coeur- de-Lion (1809), at the Nationaltheater, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 8519. 72 Ballet, too, played an important role in contributing to these spectacles. The emphasis on ballet was meant to please not only audiences, but also King Frederick William III of Prussia, who adored ballet and hid in his theater box to watch the & & & ? 8 6 8 6 8 6 8 6 Oboe Margarethe Violin I Violin II viola violoncello Un poco Larghetto Œ J œ . œ J œ ! Œ ‰ . œ p . œ Œ ‰ . œ # p . œ œ J œ . œ J œ ! . ˙ . œ . œ . œ . œ # œ ‰ . œ œ J œ . œ œ œ ! . œ . œ œ œ . œ . œ œ œ œ . ˙ . ˙ œ # J œ > œ # J œ n > ! œ # ‰ Œ ‰ œ œ ‰ Œ ‰ œ œ ‰ Œ J œ > . œ J œ J œ j œ # Blum chen der . œ œ œ œ # . œ œ œ œ . ˙ œ ‰ œ ‰ œ J œ > œ J œ > œ J œ œ ‰ Au e, œ j œ œ ‰ œ J œ œ . ˙ . œ . œ # - - Music Example 1.10 (Continued) & ? & ? c c c c Soprano I/II Tenor/Bass Strings and Bassoon ˙ œ œ Fest lich mit ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ . ˙ j œ j œ fro hem Ge . ˙ J œ J œ . ˙ j œ j œ . ˙ J œ J œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ J œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ J œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ w w w san w san ww œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ J œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ J œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ w w œ œ ge œ œ j œ J œ j œ - - - - - - - - - - - 73 dancers. 181 Often Weber replaced the ballets in 18th-century operas with more expansive numbers to match the changing style of dances and the tastes of 19th-century audiences. The Nationaltheater, for example, replaced Mozart’s ballets at the end of Idomeneo with an Adagio, Polonaise, and March. 182 The reviewer of the Vossische Zeitung complained, however, “But––a Polonaise in Crete? (As is well known, it is also danced in Tauris).” 183 The horn player Georg Abraham Schneider began composing ballet insertions for operas in 1817. He would compose ballets for Rossini’s Tancred in 1817, Mozart’s Tito in 1819, and Poißl’s Nittetis in 1819. 184 In the case of the replacement ballets for Orpheus in 1818, it cannot be determined if it was Schneider or Weber who composed the numbers. Weber conducted the performances and therefore remains the likely candidate. 185 The music for these ballets is far more brilliant than Gluck’s original music. The anonymous reviewer from the Vossische Zeitung described a modern closing-ballet... in which in terms of dance the ladies Lequime, Gemmel, Gern etc., among others, distinguished themselves, and several obbligato wind instruments stand out in the music, as, for example, the clarinet [and] bassoon, the latter through the beautifully rich sound of Mr. [Karl] M. Bärmann. 186 181 Eva Giloi, Monarchy, Myth, and Material Culture in Germany, 1750-1950 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 104. 182 Brown, critical commentary to Idomeneo, 65. 183 “Doch– eine Polonaise auf Creta? (Auf Tauris tanzt man bekanntlich auch eine).” Review of Idomeneo by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Nationaltheater Berlin) 4 August 1806, Berlinische Nachrichten von Staats- und gelehrten Sachen (7 August 1806) (hereafter Berlinische Nachrichten). The reviewer does acknowledge that the original Chaconne would also have been unfamiliar to the people of antiquity; yet the polonaise is tied to a specific place and country, whereas the chaconne is not. 184 Andreas Meyer-Hanno, Georg Abraham Schneider (1770-1839) und seine Stellung im Musikleben Berlins (Berlin: Merseburger, 1965), 249. 185 Only a copy of the music remains, and no sketches or other records have been located that would help determine authorship. Another point of contention is the choreographer. The libretto for the 1818 production from the Schatz Collection at the Library of Congress names Lauchery as the choreographer of the opera, while the playbill names Constantine Michel Telle as the choreographer. Additionally, the reviewer for the Berlinische Nachrichten mentions Lauchery as the lead dancer for the performance, in “Theater. Orpheus und Eurydice (Beschluss),” 22 October 1818. 186 “Orpheus. (Fortsetzung.),” Vossische Zeitung, 22 October 1818. 74 ein modernes Schluß-Ballet..., worin sich von Seiten des Tanzes unter andern die Damen Lequime, Gemmel, Gern etc,. und in der Musik mehrere obligate Blase-Instrumente auszeichnen, als z. B. Clarinette, Fagott, letzteres überhaupt durch den schönen vollen Ton des Herrn K M Bärmann hervorstechend. Though the music and orchestration in these ballets are significant departures from Gluck’s original score, critics often praised Weber for composing new music that complemented and blended with Gluck’s music, a point discussed later. 187 The first number is a three-part ballet beginning with an exciting fanfare in D major, followed by a sensual Siciliana in D minor and concluding with a rousing allegro in D major. The second dance number is a sixteen-measure Intermezzo in G major, which acts as a transition to the next ballet number. The third ballet is a pleasant Andante in D major, which includes a short, virtuosic passage for two horns. The fourth ballet provides a rollicking close to Orpheus, with an orchestration that includes piccolo, trombones, trumpets, timpani, bass drum, triangle, and cymbals. Whereas Gluck ended Orphée with a Chaconne in D major, Weber’s final ballet returns the opera to C major, the key of the overture. In general, while Weber juxtaposes major and minor key areas throughout each ballet, his style is fairly conservative: there is a clear homophonic texture dominating each piece; melodies break into concise phrases and are repeated extensively; and harmonies remain within the diatonic structure. 187 See Review of Iphigenia in Aulis by Christoph Gluck (Hofoper, Berlin), Berlinische Nachrichten, 1 January 1809. 75 Dance Number Tempos & Key signature Orchestration No. 1 Allegro Maestoso and Marcato (D major) – Andante sostenuto (D major) – Siciliano Largo (D minor) – Allegro (D major) Strings, fl., ob., bsn., trm., tpt., hrn, and timp. No. 2 Andantino con Moto (G major) Strings, fl., ob., bsn., hrn. No. 3 Andante (D major) – Andante poco Grave (D major) – Allegro con spirito (D major) strings, fl., ob., bsn., hrn D. No. 4 Allegretto (C major) – (C minor) – (C major) Strings, fl., pc., cl., ob., tpt., trm., trngl., bs dr., cym., timp. The reviews were somewhat mixed about the insertions. On the one hand, reviewers understood the need for such interpolations to lengthen the work, but on the other hand, the opera company may have gone too far. The anonymous reviewer for the Berlinische Nachrichten captured this issue in his review: They [“Du schönes Land” and “Ewig werd’ ich an dir hängen”] were of a favorable effect, since Eurydice appears somewhat idle in the second act, and the lack of a beautiful trio is vividly felt at the end, while there are just too many dance scenes! 188 Sie wurden von guter Wirkung gewesen seyn da Euridice im 2ten Akt etwas unthatig erscheint und am Schluß das Bedürfnis eines schönen Trio lebhaft gefühlt wird, wogegen der Tänze nur zuviel sind! 188 Berlinische Nachrichten, 20 October 1818. Table 1.2: Ballets from act 3, finale, Orpheus (1818), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. anon. 201 76 Though the reviewer felt there were too many ballet numbers, according to the Vossische Zeitung, Weber cut the trio after the first performance. 189 In general, the opera and the performers received very positive reviews from the local papers. While Milder and Eunike performed their small roles excellently, according to the reviewer for the Berlinische Nachrichten, The highest praise is due to [Johann David Heinrich] Stümer, though. He performed the infinitely difficult part of Orpheus, which lies in an extreme tessitura throughout, with consistent expressiveness, strength, and soulful tenderness, with devotion and poise. Aber die Palme gebührt billig H. Stümer. Er gab die unendlich schwere, immer in den Extremen liegende Partie des Orfeus [sic], durchweg mit gleichem Ausdruck, mit Kraft und seelenvoller Zartheit, mit Hingebung und Haltung. Even Stümer’s singing of the “strange” bravura aria, “L’Espoir renaît dans mon âme” (“so schweigt ihr Klagen”) was appreciated as the “effusion of space” (Erguß des Raum) for stimulating feelings. 190 (The reviewer for the Vossische Zeitung, however, felt this aria completely contrasted with Gluck’s style.) 191 The scene that critics kept returning to as the height of Gluck’s musical prowess was act 2, sc. 1: Those powerful choruses and dances of the Furies (effectively enhanced by Kapellmeister Weber through [the addition of] wind instruments), Orpheus’s pleading accompanied by soft harp sounds (ably played from backstage by Mr. Detroit) and in between the terrifying “No” intensified [Gluck’s use of] harmony, this is the maximum that the power of music can create. Mr Stümer sang this section of his part admirably, and the chorus was exemplary. The 189 Vossische Zeitung 22 October 1818. 190 Ibid, 22 October 1818. For the controversy that surrounds this aria, see Tom Hammond’s “A Note on the Aria di bravura ‘L’espoir renaît dans mon âme,’” in C. W. von Gluck, Orfeo, 109-12. 191 Vossische Zeitung, 20 October 1818 77 great ballet in the underworld is performed brilliantly. The calm and mild mood of the choruses of the blessed spirits, which follow immediately afterwards (with the scene change carried out very swiftly by means of efficient machinery), seems all the more calming in contrast. 192 Diese mächtigen Furien-Chöre und Tänze, (vom Hrn. K. M. Weber noch durch Blase-Instrumente effektvoll bereichert,) dieses Flehn Orpheus zur sanft erklingenden Harfe (von Hrn. Detroit hinter der Scene fertig gespielt) und dazwischen das fürchterliche in der Harmonie gesteigerte: Nein! sind das höchste, was die Macht der Tonkunst den ähren kann. Herr Stümer sang diesen Theil seiner Partie ganz vortrefflich und der Chor war musterhaft. Trefflich durchgeführt ist das große Ballet Stück im Orkus. Um so beruhigend wirkt bei der unmittelbar darauf folgenden (durch zweckmäßige Maschinerie sehr schnell bewirkten) Verwandlung die Ruhe und Milde, welche in den beiden Chören der seligen Geister ahmt. Set Designs for Orpheus Complementing Weber’s expanded orchestration and insertions were newly designed sets by Karl Friedrich Schinkel, which were intended to draw viewers into this mythical realm. At this point in Berlin’s theatrical history, Carl Friedrich Moritz Reichsgraf von Brühl was the general director of the theaters, tasked with making productions more dramatic and realistic. 193 Brühl and Schinkel moved set and costume designs away from the traditional Baroque modes toward a more Neoclassical aesthetic. Barry Bergdoll notes that Schinkel used a single painting as a backdrop that would be visible from nearly every vantage point in the auditorium. 194 This huge painted background opened “the view and imagination into the most distant lands and time and would not distract attention from the central performance set between the colonnades and 192 Ibid. 193 Ulrike Harten and Helmut Börsch-Supan provide a detailed discussion of Brühl’s theatrical reform in Die Bühnenentwürfe, Karl Schinkels Lebenswerk (Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlage, 2000). 194 Barry Bergdoll, Karl Friedrich Schinkel: An Architecture for Prussia (New York: Rizzoli, 1994), 28. 78 the backdrops.” 195 With the possible exception of a sketch of Eurydice’s tomb, Schinkel’s set designs for Orpheus are lost. 196 Fortunately, the reviewer for the Berlinsiche Nachrichten described them: A lot of diligence is used in the layout of the scenery and in the costumes, and the decorations after the designs of Mr. Schinkel are suitable and beautiful, especially the tomb, with its noble and delicate surroundings and the interior of Tartarus, [which appears] fantastic and terrifying in the luminous glare of Phlegethon. As for Elysium, it is realized in the material sense of Pindar and Virgil, and thus [this realization] does not lack justification; however, I think that it would have been better and more suitable to the music to keep it more delicate, to remove, for example, the red canopy and the thyrsus. These, as well as the colossal colorful flowers [by Gottfried Wilhelm Völcker], do indeed produce a splendid effect, but precisely for that very reason they somehow eradicate the contrast to earthly life, which is portrayed as very desirable in the poem, and therefore make it seem strange that Orpheus doesn’t want to share this place with Eurydice rather than wrest her from it. I repeat that I cannot object to the accuracy of the staging, but its relative, conditional character appears to me not entirely right. As regards to the costumes, it seems to me that the gaudy colors of the common people’s clothes in the funeral scene are shocking. 197 Auf die Anordnung der Szene und der Kostüme ist viel Fleiß verwandt, und die Dekorationen nach den Zeichnungen des H. Schinkel sind passend und schön, vorzüglich das Grabmal mit seinen Umgebungen edel und zart, und das Innere des Tartarus, im Widerschein des Flegeton, fantastisch und furchtbar. Was das Elisium anlangt, so ist es in dem materiellen Sinne Pindar’s und Virgil’s dargestellt und es fehlt also dafür nicht an Autoritäten, dennoch glaube ich, daß man besser, und der Musik gemäßer, gethan hätte, es etwas zarter zu halten, so z. B. den rothen Baldachin und den Thyrsus wegzulassen, welche zwar, so wie die kolossalen bunten Blumen, einen glänzenden Effekt machen, aber eben deshalb den Gegensatz, des, im Gedichte so wünschenwerth erscheinenden irrdischen Lebens, gewissermaßen aufheben und es seltsam erscheinen lassen, daß Orfeus, statt Euridicen einem 195 Ibid. 196 Harten, Die Bühnenentwürfe, 284-86. There is a set design, “Ein Mausoleum an einem Felsen mit Bäumen,” that could be for Orpheus or for Spontini’s Olimpia. 197 Berlinische Nachrichten, 22 October 1818. 79 solchen Aufenthalte zu entreißen, ihn nicht lieber mit ihr theilen will. Ich wiederhole, daß ich gegen die Korrektheit der Szene nichts einwenden kann, aber ihr relativer, bedingter Karakter, scheint mir nicht ganz getroffen. In Absicht der Kostume bemerke ich, daß die grell-bunten Kleidermassen des Volks in der Szene der Todtenfeier frappiren. The reviewer’s statement is an example of a growing concern among artists in the 19th century to ensure that the scenery did not distract from the music, but rather would enhance it and provide audiences with a clear understanding of the action on stage. 198 In this situation, Schinkel’s design of Elysium was too beautiful, and thus it gave no clear indication of why anyone would want to leave. Orpheus and Orfeo in Berlin In 1821, the Hofoper management engaged the Italian contralto Gentile Borgondio to sing the pants roles of Tancredi and Orpheus. For the performance of Orfeo, the Hofoper used the original 1762 Viennese version in Italian. Joining Borgondio were Seidler as Eurydice and Eunicke as Amore. Judging by the libretto, this 1821 performance was an attempt to perform Gluck’s original work with very few alterations. 199 Apparently, the only change was a cut to Orpheus’s and Eurydice’s 198 This is an issue discussed in further detail in the second chapter of this dissertation. For now, the reader is referred to Lydia Goehr, The Imaginary Museum of Musical Works: An Essay in the Philosophy of Music (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992). Oddly, the point the reviewer was trying to make was that the scenery was too faithful to the libretto and score. 199 In the Alfred Schatz collection of the Library of Congress the call number of the 1821 libretto contains two librettos: one in Italian, the other German. The German version of the libretto lists the correct performers, but uses Sander’s translation of the French Orphée. It appears that the printer or the theater did not want to bother with paying someone to translated the Italian version and reused the libretto from the 1818 production. A possible set of performance materials for the 1821 Orfeo is the score and parts under the call number Mus. ms. 7793/5 at the SBB. The 1821 libretto follows the 1762 Viennese version very closely, and the score corresponds to Gluck’s music, in that there are no insertions or major deletions of his original music. The original chalumeaux and cornetts were replaced by clarinets and oboe. The copyist transcribed Orpheus’s music in tenor clef in the score, but the part book for Orpheus shows his music written in soprano clef, and certain arias were transposed: “Chiamo il mio ben così” is in B flat (original F) 80 recitative in act 3, sc. 1, from Orpheus’s line “Sì mia speranza” to “andiamo mia diletta Euridice.” 200 Though Berliners were offered a close approximation of Gluck’s original Orfeo, according to the reviewer for the AmZ, the performances were not well attended: The old-fashioned form of some of the musical pieces, as well as the not generally understood language (Italian) were the reasons why, despite the beautiful singing of the ladies Borgondio, Seidler, and Eunike and the wonderful orchestra under the direction of Music Director Seidel, only two performances were given and why the house was only half full for the second one. 201 Die veraltete Form einiger Musikstücke, und die nicht allgemein verstandene Sprache (die italienische) waren die Ursachen, dass ungeachtet des herrlichen Gesanges der Damen Borgondio, Seidler und Eunike und des trefflichen Orchesters unter Leitung des Hrn. Musikdirectors Seidel, nur zwey Vorstellungen gegeben wurden, und dass die zweyte das Haus nur halb füllte. To some extant, the failure of this performance of Orfeo highlights the degree of necessity for opera companies to change the opera in order for it to survive in the later 18th and 19th centuries. In her recent discussion of Italian aria insertions, Hilary Poriss points out that modern scholars often chastise opera companies for altering the composer’s vision of his dramatic work. 202 She writes, however, that the practice of altering the score “offered a wealth of benefits” to performers, and by extension, to the box office. 203 Without any alterations to the score of Orfeo, according to one reviewer, and “Che farò senza Euridice” is in E flat (original C). Markings on the score and parts indicate that it was likely used for a performance, though it is unclear if it was for the 1821 production. 200 Such a deletion is not indicated in any of the parts of D-B Mus. ms. 7793/5. 201 “Nachrichten: Berlin. Uebersicht des April,” AmZ 23, no. 20 (May 1821): 347. 202 Hilary Poriss, Changing the Score: Arias, Prima Donnas, and the Authority of Performance (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 6. 203 Ibid., 5. 81 members of the audience hissed (“Zischen des Publikums”) throughout the entire performance. 204 Yet the review of the 1821 Orfeo in the Vossische Zeitung echoes a theme that is found in many of the reviews of the 1808 and 1818 performances of Orpheus in Germany: It was this operatic piece “... from which emanated the revolution in dramatic music... .” 205 Another critic called the composer “Prometheus-Gluck,” since his work brought forth a divine fire to reinvigorate operatic reform. 206 Even in its unaltered state, critics understood and appreciated Orfeo for its historical significance in transforming operatic culture. The work needed to be adapted and changed for European stages, however, because when audiences were confronted with the original work, they left the theater. When Franz Liszt staged Orpheus in Weimar and Hector Berlioz revised Gluck’s Orphée for Paris, they were following a long-held tradition of adapting Gluck’s opera to fit certain aesthetic and performative demands of the late 18th and 19th centuries. As Joël-Marie Fauquet remarks, “Gluck, to Berlioz’s way of thinking, was a musician of the present who deserved to be liberated from the bonds of a now-superseded past.” 207 In his adaptation in 1854, Liszt replaced Gluck’s overture with his symphonic poem Orpheus and added transitional orchestral numbers between scenes to demonstrate that Gluck’s music, “so sublime and touching in its simplicity,” no longer belonged in the past but in 204 Review of Orfeo ed Euridice by Christoph Gluck (Hofoper, Berlin), Berlinische Nachrichten, 5 April 1821. 205 “...von der die Revoluzion der dramatischen Musik ausging...”; ibid. 206 Vossische Zeitung, 22 October 1818. 207 Fauquet, “Berlioz and Gluck,” 206. 82 the music of the future. 208 It was not just Berlioz’s Orphée or Liszt’s Orpheus that liberated Gluck’s music from the past, but a confluence of approaches that aligned the opera with ever-changing aesthetic and cultural practices. Instrumentation In the above discussion, we looked at how opera companies in the 18th and 19th centuries changed a single work by Gluck in order to lengthen his opera and meet the demands of performers and audiences. The following two sections will provide an overview of other types of changes that 19th-century German opera companies made to Gluck’s operas. The 1818 production of Orpheus in Berlin was unusual in that the opera company added and substituted vocal pieces from other works by Gluck. 209 In staging Gluck’s other operas, German opera companies kept most of his vocal pieces in place but altered them with transpositions and new orchestrations. Yet the practice of inserting or substituting new ballet pieces continued. This section will discuss Peter von Winter’s new orchestration for performances of Iphigenia in Tauris and Iphigenia in Aulide in Munich; the following section will focus on the ballets that the Viennese Hofoper inserted into Gluck’s operas for a series of performances from 1807 to 1810. In Munich, when the Residenztheater staged Iphigenia in Aulis in 1816 and revived Iphigenia in Tauris in 1829 and 1830, Kapellmeister Winter reorchestrated certain set pieces for each performance. 210 In the overture to Tauris, Winter added 208 Franz Liszt, introduction to Symphonic Poem No. 4, “Orpheus” (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1908), n. p. 209 Even when the Dresden Hofoper staged Orpheus in 1838, the company did not substitute any of Gluck’s original set pieces, but did cut some of the recitatives and the trio in act 3, sc. 4 (D-Dl Mus. 3030-F-504). 210 Marcus Lippe notes that Winter’s treatment of the orchestra was influenced by many of the Revolutionary French operas that were in performance on the German stages (“Zur deutschsprachigen 83 trombones at the moment when the tempo changes from the calm Andante to the stormy Allegro. 211 For Iphigenia’s aria “Erbebend fleh’ ich Dir” (“Je t’implore et je tremble”) in act 4, sc. 1 of Tauris, Winter added flute, clarinet in A, and trumpets in A to Gluck’s original orchestration of oboe, bassoon, and strings, and replaced the original horn in G with two horns in A and D, though keeping the aria in the original key of A major. On Iphigenia’s vocal line, Winter composed a solo trombone part to double the bass in the ten-measure introduction. 212 In preparation for the performance of Aulis, Winter composed new woodwind and brass parts. 213 Winter based his performance on the first version of Iphigénie en Aulide of 1774, in which Calchas tells the crowd of Diana’s wishes, as opposed to the revised version in which the goddess Diana herself appears. 214 Whether Winter used this music for the 1816 performance is unclear. The score for the new orchestration is bound separately (call number St. th. 66-10) from the performance score––no individual parts remain. 215 The performance score of Iphigenia in Aulis (call number St. th. 66-1) Opernproduktion in München um 1800,” in Oper in Aufbruck: Gattungskonzepte des deutschsprachigen Msuiktheaters um 1800, ed. Marcus Lippe [Kassel: Gustav Bosse, 2007], 245-46). 211 According to the direction books for the performances of Iphigenia in Tauris in Munich (St. th. 58-11 and St. th. 58-38 in the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek), Orestes and Pylades’ boat entered in the background during the overture. 212 Someone removed Winter’s reorchestrated aria and rebound it under the call number St. th. 58-16. 213 The SBB has a manuscript (D-B K. H. M. 1675) of Iphigenia in Aulis in which all the vocal lines are transcribed for specific instruments. A solo bassoon or violoncello, for example, stands in for Agamemnon’s vocal line. A solo oboe represents either Clytemnestra or Iphigenia, and viola is used for Achilles. 214 An interesting discussion of the two versions can be found in Julian Rushton, “‘Royal Agamemnon’: the Two Versions of Gluck’s Iphigénie en Aulide,” in Music and the French Revolution, ed. Malcolm Boyd (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 15-36. 215 The Bayerische Staatsbibliothek catalogue attributes the handwriting to Joseph Steigenberger. The old parts may have been discarded when the Royal and National Theater restaged Iphigenia in Aulis in 1869. This new production was under the direction of Hans von Bülow and was based on Wagner’s version of the opera. The parts that remain in the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek collection are related to the 1869 production. See Christa Jost, introduction to Iphigenia in Aulis by Christoph Gluck, in Iphigenia in Aulis, 84 contains both Gluck’s original orchestrations and Winter’s new orchestrations of Achilles’s arias. Winter transposed the aria “Ja, Unempflindliche, nie, nie wallte / Noch dein Blut für dieses Herz” (“Cruelle, non, jamais votre insensible cœur” from act 1, sc. 9) from the original key of A minor to E minor and the aria “Wie? ich––Geh, eil und sag ihr” (“Qui, moi? Cours et dis lui” from act 2, sc. 5) from G major to E major. The pages bearing Gluck’s original orchestrations were once folded over in the score, indicating they were not used for the 1816 performance and that Munich audiences at least heard Winter’s reorchestrated versions of Achilles’s arias. (Appendix B provides a listing of the instruments added to each set piece.) All of Winter’s orchestrations in St. th. 66-10 include a line for bassoon, which is often the same as that in Gluck’s original score. There are some pencil markings that correct notes or add new instrumental lines (for the Greek chorus’s “O Hymen: Holder Gott!” in act 2, for example, the line for clarinet in A was added in pencil). For the most part, Winter has the additional woodwind parts perform in unison with or an octave above the first violins or vocal line, while the brass parts reinforce the underlying harmonies. When Gluck reworked Iphigénie en Aulide for its restaging in 1775, he removed much of his music for the woodwinds in the recitative accompaniments. By using the original 1774 version, Winter not only restored Gluck’s writing for woodwinds but also enriched the woodwind and brass parts with his own added instrumentation. In Agamemnon’s recitative (sung by Hanmüller in Munich) from act 2, sc. 8, “Du erwingest Bearbeitung der Tragédie: opéra en trois actes "Iphigénie en Aulide" von Christoph Willibald Gluck, WWV 77; Konzertschluss zur Ouvertüre: WWV 87; mit einer Dokumentation zu Wagners deutscher Übersetzung des Librettos und seiner weitern Auseinandersetzung mit dem Werk, vol. 20, Sämtliche Werke, ed. Carl Dahlhaus (Mainz: Schott, 2010), xiii, for an overview of the performance history of Wagner’s version of Iphigenia in Aulis. 85 mein Gebot” (“Tu décides son sort”), Winter rewrote parts for the flute, oboe, clarinet in C, horns in F and E b , trombones, and trumpet. (The bass line is the same as in Gluck’s original.) In the first version of 1774, Gluck composed a flute part with a downward- running figure that outlined a G-diminished triad (b b ’– d b ’ – (c’) – g’) to accompany Agamemnon’s line “Je verrai tout son sang couler? Père inhumain!” The second violins and violas double the flute’s line an octave below, and the oboes, bassoons, first violins and basses accompany the running figure with a sustained E o7 chord (Music Example 1.11a). In the second version of Iphigénie en Aulide, Gluck changed the orchestral accompaniment: the flutes, oboes, bassoons, horns, and strings repeat the E o7 chord in a quick succession of quarter notes, and the diminished harmony passes by fleetingly (Music Example 1.11b). In his reorchestration of the line (now translated as “Ja mein eigen Blut! Grausamer Vater!”), Winter changed the voicing of the accompanying chords to create a far more strident sound (Music Example 1.11c). He moved the first oboe up a tritone (d b ’) into the instrument’s high tessitura. The first clarinet and first bassoon double the D b an octave lower, thereby accentuating the seventh of the diminished chord. The second oboe, second clarinet, horns, trumpets, and trombones fill out the harmonies of the diminished chord over a two-octave range (E- b b ’). Gluck suspends the diminished chord over six beats in the woodwinds and the first violins, while his basses and horns repeat the E o triad in half notes; Winter has the woodwinds and brass repeat the chord four times in accented half notes. 86 & & ? & ? & & B ? c c c c c c c c c Flute Oboe Bassoon Horn in F I, II Agame- mnon Violin I Violin II Viola Violon- cello e Basso Ó œ b œ b œ œ œ b œ Ó ˙ ˙ b Ó ˙ Ó ˙ . J œ b R œ . J œ R œ œ Œ tout son sang cou ler? œ b Œ ˙ ˙ œ œ b Œ œ œ b œ œ b œ b œ ˙ œ œ b œ œ b œ b œ ˙ b œ Œ œ b œ b œ œ œ b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ w w w w b w ! ˙ ˙ b ˙ ˙ œ œ b œ œ b œ b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ b œ b œ œ œ b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ œ Œ œ b Œ œ œ Œ œ œ Œ œ Œ Œ J œ b R œ R œ J œ b J œ Œ Pè re in hu main! œ œ b Œ œ œ b Œ œ b Œ œ Œ - - - - Music Example 1.11a: Gluck’s original orchestration for act 2, sc. 8, Iphigénie en Aulide, (1774), Académie Royale de Musique, Paris, in Sämtliche Werke 87 & & ? & & & B ? ? c c c c c c c c c Flute I, II Oboe I, II Bassoon I, II Corno in F I, II Violin I Violin II Viola Agamemnon Violoncello e Basso p p p p p ! Œ œ œ b . ! ! ˙ b ˙ ˙ b ˙ ! ˙ b ! œ œ b . Œ Ó ! ! w w w w Œ . J œ b R œ œ b R œ R œ R œ R œ Je ver rai tout son sang cou w f f f f f f f f Œ œ œ œ a2 Œ œ œ b œ œ œ œ Œ œ œ n b œ œ œ œ Œ œ œ œ a2 Œ œ œ b œ œ œ œ (div.) Œ œ œ b œ œ œ œ (div.) Œ œ b œ œ œ Œ Ó ler. Œ œ n œ œ œ Œ Ó œ œ b Œ Ó œ œ b Œ Ó œ Œ Ó œ œ b Œ Ó œ œ b Œ Ó œ b Œ Ó Ó œ b J œ J œ Pè reIin hu œ Œ Ó Œ œ œ œ Œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ œ œ b œ œ œ œ Œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Œ œ b œ œ w main! Œ œ b œ œ - - - - - Music Example 1.11b: Gluck’s revised orchestration for act 2, sc. 8, Iphigénie en Aulide, (1775), Académie Royale de Musique, Paris, in Sämtliche Werke 88 & & & ? & & B ? ? ? & c c c c c c c c c c c Flute Oboe Clarinet in C Bassoon Horn in F Horn in Eb Trombone 1 Trombone 2 Agamemnon Bass trombe Ó œ b œ b œ œ œ b œ Ó ˙ ˙ b Ó ˙ ˙ b b Ó ˙ ˙ b Ó ˙ ˙ Ó ˙ ˙ Ó ˙ ˙ b Ó ˙ . J œ b R œ . J œ R œ œ Œ ja mein ei gen Blüt ˙ œ Œ Ó ˙ ˙ œ b œ b œ œ œ b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ ˙ b ˙ ˙ b ˙ ˙ b b ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ b ˙ ˙ b ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ b ˙ ˙ b ˙ ˙ ! œ b Œ œ Œ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ b Œ œ œ b Œ Ó œ œ b b Œ Ó œ œ b Œ Ó œ Œ Ó œ œ Œ Ó œ œ œ b Œ Ó œ Œ Ó Œ J œ b R œ R œ J œ b J œ Œ Grau sa mer Va ter! œ Œ œ b Œ œ œ - - - - Music Example 1.11c: Peter Winter’s reorchestration of act 2, sc. 8, Iphigenia in Aulis (1816), at Residenztheater, Munich, in D-Mbs St-th. 66-10 89 Although Gluck’s simple orchestration of strings, woodwinds, and horns in Agamemnon’s second-act recitative was sufficient to portray the character's shifting emotional state, Winter chose to accentuate Agamemnon’s words with an expansive orchestration to make the setting of the text more exciting for 19th-century listeners. Winter was not the only director to change Gluck’s orchestration, as opera directors’ adaptations expanded Gluck’s instrumentation to match the performative forces found in the newer Romantic operas from Italy and France. Reviewing the 1837 production of Armide in Berlin, the reviewer for the Berlinische Nachrichten thought that the adding of trombones was a prudent move that updated Gluck’s work for the 19th century. 216 In particular, the reviewer wrote that the added trombones were very effective in act 2, sc. 2 (“Esprits de haine et de rage,” translated as “Der Rachlust nächtliche Geister”) in which Armide and Hidraot conjure up demons and cast a spell on Renaud. Though the Berlin performance score is lost, an 1845 manuscript score of Armide in Dresden (Mus. ms. 3030-F-64b) contains an added trombone line at act 2, sc. 2, and this score may provide us with some clue of how 19th-century audiences in Berlin and Dresden heard this scene. As seen in Music Example 1.12, the trombones double the bass line and enrich the sustained melody in the woodwinds against the elfin music in the strings. 216 Review of Armide by Christoph Gluck (Hofoper, Berlin) Berlinische Nachrichten, 30 January 1837. This performance and its related performance materials are given considerable attention in the second chapter. 90 Music Example 1.12: Armide, act 2, sc. 2, “Der Rachlust nächtliche Geister” in D-Dl Mus. ms. 3030-F-64b (1845?) 91 In the 19th century, Winter and other opera directors understood that, in order for the operas of Gluck and other 18th-century composers to succeed financially on the European stage, alterations were a necessary component of the performance. 217 In her critical edition of Wagner’s adaptation of Iphigenia in Aulis, Christa Jost observes that Wagner made sure to satisfy his “audience’s desire for spectacle.” 218 When Calchas announces the arrival of Artemis (Diana, in Gluck’s version), for example, he is accompanied by a roll on the timpani, and thunder and lightning machines; a crash on the tamtam; a B-flat-minor chord in the woodwinds and brass; and a driving sixteenth-note figure in the strings. The lightning and thunder subside, as the harmony moves to an E o7 chord in the woodwinds and trumpets onstage, which resolves into a B-flat-major chord when the goddess finally appears (Music Example 1.13). While this may provide the listener with some stimulation, it overdramatizes the closing of Gluck’s opera. Gluck himself articulated the entrance of Diana with a simple instrumental interlude of string arpeggios and sustained chords in the woodwinds, but Wagner’s audience required special effects and a colorful orchestration to arouse a feeling of excitement. 217 Eve Barsham notes that Berlioz knew he needed to rescore Orphée for the 1859 production but could not bring himself to do it, and therefore gave the task to Saint-Saëns (“Berlioz and Gluck,” 92). 218 Jost, introduction to Iphigenia in Aulis, viii. Oddly, Wagner does not provide an elaborate setting of Agamemnon’s recitative in act 2. He only adds a B-flat clarinet. 92 Music Example 1.13: “Die Göttin nahet selbst,” mm. 75-87, from act 3, finale, Iphigenia in Aulis (1847), Wagner’s adaptation for the Dresden Hofoper, from the Richard Wagner Sämtliche Werke. & ? & & ? ? ? ? ? ? & ? b b b b b b b b b b b b b b c c c c c c c c c c c c 2 Flutes 2 Oboe 2 Clarinet B b 3 Bassoon 4 Horns Trumpet in B b Timpani Trombone Tamtam Donner Einschlag Calchas Strings Ÿ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ÿ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ï Ï Ï Ï Ï Ï Ï ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ w w w w w w b b w w b w w b w w b Ÿ w w w b ˙ Ó w dim abnehmend w ! œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ b b œ œ . . . . . . ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ Œ . . ˙ ˙ Œ . . ˙ ˙ Œ . ˙ Œ ˙ Ÿ œ Œ . . . ˙ ˙ ˙ Œ Ó w w Ó Œ œ Die œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ b b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ b œ œ œ œ œ 93 Music Example 1.13 (Continued) & ? ? ? ? ? & ? b b b b b b b b b b b b fl., ob., cl. bsn. Timp. Dnr. Ein. Cal. Str. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~ Ÿ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Í ƒ ƒ dim dim 3 ! ! 3 w Ÿ w œ Œ Ó 3 ˙ b ˙ Göt tin œ œ b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ n n œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ! Auf dem Theater (On the stage) ! Auf dem Theater (On the stage) w Ÿ w ! . ˙ b œ na het œ œ b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ n n œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ p w w w w b w w n n w Ÿ œ Œ Ó ! . ˙ n Œ selbst! œ œ b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ n n œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ - - - - - - - 94 Music Example 1.13 (Continued) & ? & ? & & ? b b b b b b b b b b b b fl., ob., cl. bsn. B b Tpt. Timp. Artemis Str. 6 w w w w w w 6 ! 6 ˙ Ÿ Ó 6 ! œ œ b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ n n œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ p p p " " Lento Lento ˙ œ œ w . ˙ Œ w w w . . . ˙ ˙ ˙ J œ œ œ ‰ Auf dem Theater (on the stage) ! ! j œ ‰ Œ Ó j œ œ ‰ Œ Ó w w ˙ œ œ w ! ! ! ! ! . ˙ œ w ˙ ˙ w ! ! ! ! ! & ? & & b b b b b b fl., ob., cl. bsn. B b Tpt. Artemis 10 ˙ ˙ œ œ n ˙ b . ˙ œ w 10 ! 10 ! " p p w w w w w w w w Ó œ . J œ R œ Nicht dür ste w w w w œ œ œ œ Œ Ó J œ J œ J œ J œ . œ J œ ich nach I phi ge nias w w w w ! œ Blut, - - - - 95 Though 19th-century opera houses felt they needed to change Gluck’s orchestration to update the composer’s work, many music critics argued that Gluck’s orchestrations are intended to support the dramatic qualities of the opera. E. T. A. Hoffmann claimed that though Gluck enlarged the orchestra himself, this composer’s music also shows that richer orchestration can be effective only when it renders more prominent the genuinely vigorous, inner harmonic structure, and when the use of various instruments according to their individual qualities proceeds from the deepest dramatic motives. 219 Hoffmann contrasts Gluck’s style of orchestration with that of Spontini, whose orchestration “seems only to aim merely at loudness.” 220 Yet as the above examples demonstrate, opera directors were changing Gluck’s orchestrations so that they aligned with those of more recent works. Therefore, critics were struggling with the question of whether or not these new orchestrations by Winter and others fulfill Hoffmann’s claims about Gluck’s orchestration, in that these added instruments for 19th-century performances render more prominently “the inner harmonic structure” of the drama, or do they ultimately turn Gluck’s operas into works of noise? The answer to this question is mixed and would change over time. Reviewing the Dresden premiere of Iphigenia in Aulis in 1847, Carl Banck rejected Wagner’s adaptation: 219 E. T. A. Hoffmann, “Letters on Music in Berlin. First Letter,” AmZ 17, no. 11 (January 1815): 17-27, translated and reprinted in Charlton, E. T. A. Hoffmann’s Musical Writings, 394. 220 Ibid. Additionally, in his review of a performance of Iphigenia in Tauris in Dresden, Johann Peter Burmeister-Lyser pays considerable attention to Gluck’s orchestration, claiming that Gluck’s orchestration is only “a means to an end” in the creation of a dramatic work, whereas 19th-century composers use a large orchestra and spectacle as the goal itself (“Gluck’s Iphigenia auf Tauris [Eine Erinnerung aus dem Jahre 1831],” Cäcilia: Ein Taschenbuch für Freunde der Tonkunst, ed. Johann Peter Burmeister-Lyser [Hamburg: Hoffmann und Campe 1833], 15-16). 96 This filling out of the writing, contrived in the best sense of the word, should not and cannot add new colors: it is arbitrary, as though the shaded parts of a painting have been made darker; the lighting has not been altered, but the subtle effects of individual modulations of the coloring have been concealed by the consistently heavier shading. 221 This concern, that these changes to the score might make the work unrecognizable, was common among 19th-century critics. 222 Twenty years later, in 1867, Edward Hanslick praised Wagner’s new orchestration of Iphigenia in Aulis, stating: It revealed the hand of a master, both in what it achieved and in what it omitted. A refined, conservative feeling for the characteristic qualities of the past and a clear vision of the needs of the present worked hand in hand here. ... Furthermore, he strengthened the instrumentation, the sparseness and monotony of which our ears could no longer enjoy. 223 Sie verräth eine Meisterhand, sowohl in ihrem positiven Thun als in ihrem Unterlassen. Eine feine conservative Empfindung für das Charakteristische der Vergangenheit und der klarste Blick für das Bedürfniß der Gegenwart haben hier Hand in Hand zusammengewirkt. ... Sodann verstärkte er die Instrumentirung, mit deren Dürftigkeit und Monotonie sich unser Gehör nicht mehr befreunden kann. According to Hanslick, Wagner kept Gluck’s work rooted in the past, but made enough changes to bring it into the present. 224 221 Carl Banck, Review of Iphigenia in Aulis (Hoftheater, Dresden), Dresdner Tageblatt, 24 February 1847, cited and translated in Jost, introduction to Iphigénie en Aulide, x. Additional remarks about Banck’s review can be found in Alexander Rehding, Music and Monumentality, 136-37. 222 Mary Hunter notes that from the 18th to the 19th century, critics and music teachers were always concerned that poor performance could render a work unrecognizable, in “‘To Play as if from the Soul of the Composer’: The Idea of the Performer in Early Romantic Aesthetic,” Journal of the American Musicological Society, 58 no. 2 (Summer 2005): 357-98. 223 Eduard Hanslick, Die moderne Oper: Kritiken und Studien (Berlin: Allgemeiner Verein für Deutsche Literatur, 1885), 7, quoted and translated in Jost, introduction to Iphigenia in Aulis, x. I have modified the translation. 224 Based on Rehding, Music and Monumentality, 109-41. 97 Ballets After the premiere of Alceste in 1767, court chamberlain Johann Joseph Khevenhüller remarked: The libretto [of Alceste] was judged by the public once again to be pathetic and lugubrious; fortunately, there was at the end a ballet by Noverre in the grotesque style, which won universal applause. 225 As our discussion of the performance history of Orpheus shows, the tradition of inserting or performing a ballet during or after Gluck’s opera continued well into the 19th century– though the type and style of ballet often changed depending on current trends and audience preferences. As Khevenhüller’s remarks suggest, at times the ballet received greater applause than the opera itself. This section will focus on performance materials and reviews of substituted and inserted ballets for performances of Gluck’s operas in Vienna from the period of 1807 to 1810. During much of the period under discussion, Europe was embroiled in the Napoleonic Wars, and French forces occupied most German-speaking areas. As Lucia Ruprecht notes, many German critics accused local theaters of performing ballets in order to please the French. 226 Yet, as the discussion below demonstrates, many of these new ballets also pleased local critics and satisfied audiences’ demands for spectacle and entertainment. These newly inserted ballets could range from very simple dances, as seen in the performance parts for the Weimar production of Alceste, to very lengthy numbers, as 225 Quoted in Heartz, Haydn, Mozart, and the Viennese School, 232. Brown pays considerable attention to Vienna’s ballet tradition in his monograph Gluck and the French Theatre in Vienna. See also Andrea Amort, Österreich tanzt: Geschichte und Gegenwart (Vienna: Böhlau, 2001) for an extensive overview of Austrian dance history. 226 Lucia Ruprecht, Dances of the Self in Heinrich von Kleist, E. T. A. Hoffmann and Heinrich Heine (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006). 98 found in the performance materials for productions in Berlin and Vienna. Despite opera companies’ insertion of ballet pieces into operas, there are indications that music directors often cut them prior to performance. The Weimar musicians, for example, crossed out the music for an inserted ballet to end Alceste (Music Example 1.14). 227 227 The Weimar materials for Alceste consists only of parts; the full score is missing. Johann Hummel directed the first performance of Alceste in 1834 for the Hofoper, and Liszt staged the opera again in 1858. The parts are housed in the Deutsche National Theater Archive, catalog number WRdn-DNT 206, at the Hochschule für Musik Franz Liszt Weimar. Music Example 1.14: Contrabass part for act 3, finale, Alceste (1834), at the Hoftheater, Weimar, in WRdn-DNT 206 99 Plenty of new ballets, however, made it into the performances, especially on the Viennese stage. From 1807 to 1810, the Viennese Hofoper, under Antonio Salieri’s direction, presented a large-scale revival of Gluck’s operas: Iphigenia auf Tauris (1807), Die Pilgrime von Mecca (1807), Iphigenia in Aulis (1808), Armide (1808), and Alceste (1810). 228 Except for Die Pilgrime von Mecca, all these productions included new ballets or rearrangements of Gluck’s original dance music. 229 Aside from Alceste, which was performed in the original Italian, the Hofoper presented Gluck’s operas in German. Perhaps the Hofoper or Salieri intended to reclaim Gluck from the French and remind them that Gluck’s real operatic reforms took place in Vienna, not Paris. 230 With that said, the Hofoper drew upon the latest ballets from Paris to update Gluck’s works for the 19th-century stage. For the 1808 production of Iphigenia in Aulis, Pietro Angiolini directed the ballet corps, which included the dancers Salvatore Viganò and Filippo Taglioni. According to the playbill, the production included the new ballet pieces “Solo von Nalej-Neuville, componirt von Herrn [Pierre] Gardel” and “Kampf und pas de deux von Mad. Nalej-Neuville und Taglioni, componirt von [Louis] Milon” in the 228 “Vermählungsfeierlichkeiten Sr. Majestät des Kaisers von Oestrerreich in Wien (Beschluss),” ZfdeW, 24 (11 February 1808): 192. A note regarding Iphigenia in Tauris versus Iphigenia auf Tauris: Recall that Goethe wrote the play Iphigenia auf Tauris in the 1780s, and it was frequently staged throughout the 19th century, particularly in Northern German cities. Northern German theatres often billed Gluck’s opera as Iphigenia in Tauris and Goethe’s play as Iphigenia auf Tauris. In Vienna, where Goethe’s play was infrequently performed–it was given only thrice in 1800 (Hadamowsky, 593)–theaters presented Gluck’s opera as Iphigenia auf Tauris. To distinguish between Northern and Southern performances, I have retained these differences in title. 229 There are no composers’ names listed on the ballet numbers. Though Salieri could have composed these ballets, other composers writing ballet music for the Viennese dance troupe include Joseph Weigl, Johann Hummel, Anton and Paul Wranitzky, and Leopold Kozeluch (John Rice, Antonio Salieri and Viennese Opera [Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1998], 527). 230 Meyer observes that these performance of Gluck’s operas were a part of the Austrian government’s promotion of high Viennese culture during the Napoleonic wars and Congress of Vienna (“Gluck’schen Gesöhn,” 179-82). 100 second act. 231 It has yet to be determined what was actually performed and what pieces by Gardel and Milon were used. The Viennese performance score contains only one new dance number in the second act, with no indication if it is Milon’s or Gardel’s work (Music Example 1.15). 232 Nothing is stated in the libretto regarding the ballets. 233 The new ballet that remains in the 1808 performance score of Iphigenia in Aulis comes in the second act when Achilles displays his spoils from war, simply elongating Gluck’s original divertissement. Given its position in the second act, Milon’s “Der Kampf” might have represented the confrontation between Achilles and Agamemnon. In a review of the performances, an anonymous writer for Der Sammler writes simply that 231 The playbill is available online through the ÖNB’s digital archives at <http://anno.onb.ac.at/cgi- content/anno?apm=0&aid=wtz&datum =18081214&seite=1&zoom=2> (accessed 28 September 2011). In 1793, Gardel composed a pas de deux for Clotilde Mafleuret for the Paris Opéra’s revival of Iphigénie en Aulide (Ivor Guest, Ballet under Napoleon [Alton: Dance Books Ltd., 2001], 40). The music for this piece has yet to be located. 232 According the Denny, the Kärntnertortheater used A-Wn K. T. 226 only for the 1808-1810 productions (“Wiener Quellen zu Glucks ‘Reform’ Opern,” 22). When the opera was revised in the 1867, the Hofoper used Wagner’s version. 233 Iphigenia in Aulis. Eine große Oper in drey Aufzügen (Vienna: Johann Baptist Wallishausser, 1808). Music Example 1.15: New ballet in act 2, sc. 2, Iphigenia in Aulis (1808), at the Kärnthnerthor Theater, Vienna, in A-Wn K. T. 226 101 “Costumes, decorations and dances were in accord with the subject matter.” 234 Gluck’s opera on the whole received a very positive review, as it remains “one of the models of dramatic music most worthy of emulation... .” 235 In the same year as the Viennese premiere of Iphigenia in Aulis, the Hofoper also brought Gluck’s Armide to the stage for the first time in German translation. In the ÖNB, the manuscript score of Armide (K. T. 40) contains a new march and pas de deux. 236 The work’s first production in Vienna was at the Theater an der Wien on 9 January 1808 in celebration of the wedding of Emperor Franz I to Ludovica Beatrix of Modena. For the 4 April 1808 performance at the Kärnthnerthor Theater, Jean Coralli (spelled Corally on the playbill) choreographed the ballets, and it was a benefit performance for him. Additional dancers for Armide included the ladies Franceska de Caro, Treitschke de Caro, Nalej-Neuville, Coustou, Neumann and Horschelt, and the gentlemen Taglioni, Regnier, Angiolini, Rainoldi, and Lasargue. The new ballet music comes at the beginning of act 1, sc. 3 when the people of Damascus enter singing the praises of Armide. 237 The march that opens scene 3 is fairly long, and it expands the instrumentation beyond Gluck’s original scoring, adding clarinets in C, oboes, horns in C, bassoon, and trumpets (Music Example 1.16a). The opening eight measures act as an introductory section, with the melody and harmonies 234 “Kleidung, Decorationen und Tänze waren dem Gegestande ensprechend”; M., “Notitzen,” Der Sammler (17 January 1809), 28. 235 “eines der nachahmungswürdigen Muster für dramatische Musik... ”; ibid. 236 Denny, “Wiener Quellen zu Glucks “Reform”-Opern,” 21. 237 There is some indication that the march may originally have been placed earlier in the performance. At Hidraot’s line “Grausam ist’s höhnend” in act 2, sc. 2, the music is crossed out in Rötel, presumably by Salieri, who placed a asterisk in Rötel above the top staff line with “marcia” written in pencil beside it. The same asterisk is then found above the first measure of the march. 102 alternating between tonic and dominant. At the fifth measure the flutes enter, doubling the oboes at an octave, and the introduction closes in the key of G major. The second section begins with a running melody in the strings, which is then set in counterpoint to a fanfare motive in the brass and woodwinds (Music Example 1.16b). Using a Rötel crayon, someone made a second set of repeat markings at the end of the second section and wrote “Da Capo” at the end. After the march, the chorus enters with “Es töne im feßtlichen Liede der Name Armide” (“Armide est encor plus aimable”). Music Example 1.16a: March from act 1, sc. 3, Armide (1808), at the Kärnthnerthor Theater, Vienna, A-Wn K. T. 40 Music Example 1.16b: B section of the March from act 1, sc. 3, Armide (1808), at the Kärnthnerthor Theater, Vienna, A-Wn K. T. 40 103 Following the chorus, there is a pas de deux in C major (Music Example 1.17). The score includes only the bass part (and no additional performing parts have been found). The name “Vigano” (sic) appears next to the title. According to the playbill, no member of the great Viganò family of dancers participated in the 1808 Viennese performances of Armide, but Salvatore and Marie Ester Viganò did participate in one performance of Armide on 1 March 1809. Additionally, Coralli and his company, according to Marian Hannah Winter, were wonderful interpreters of Viganò’s ballets. 238 In the performance score of Armide, after the pas de deux, the march returns—but marked as a “Ballo Solo Vigano.” A blank page covers up the first several measures of the march; the rest of the music for the march was folded over and pinholes dot the bottom corner, suggesting the pages were once bound together. Though it is clear that the repetition of the march was cut for this or a later performance, the closing material would have been a spectacular feast for the audience. The flutes and oboes bring back the opening march theme as the strings accompany them, alternating between punctuating chords and rushing sixteenth notes. The brass brings the march to a close with a heroic fanfare in C major. 238 Marian Hannah Winter, The Pre-Romantic Ballet (London: Pitman, 1974), 195. Music Example 1.17: Pas de deux from act 1, sc. 3, Armide (1808), at the Kärnthnerthor Theater, Vienna, A-Wn K. T. 40. This pas de deux is transcribed in the 1810 performance score of Alceste. 104 Gluck’s original ballet music for the first act still remains in the score. It appears as if Salieri or someone else intended to add woodwinds and brass to Gluck’s original orchestration, which was all strings. The score for the first act ballet includes staves for such instruments, with clefs and key signatures written in, but no music. Following Gluck’s original dance number for the first act is the Allegro no. 27 from Don Juan, ou le Festin de pierre. This dance was not printed in the original 1777 edition, but some opera companies included it in performances of Armide. In the Weimar performance score, which uses the 1777 printed score with the German translation penned in, the copyist inserted the music from Don Juan and then copied out the music in the performance parts. Furthermore, when the publisher Trautwein printed a piano reduction of Don Juan, the reviewer for the BamZ stated that people were familiar with the ballet’s music because they had heard selections from it in performances of Armide. 239 The performance score of Armide demonstrates that Gluck’s original dance numbers, at least for act 1, sc. 3, were insufficient to create the necessary effect to intrigue the Viennese public. The music for these new ballets represents a certain liberality that opera companies took when inserting new music into Gluck’s operas. But reviewers were generally pleased by the dancing of Coralli: “The beautiful ballets by Mr. Corally… amazed and charmed.” 240 In the journal Prometheus, the reviewer, August Schlegel, wrote that the orchestra was not in proper alignment with the choir, but that 239 –t– “Don Juan, Ballet, in Musik gesetzt vom Ritter Gluck. Vollständiger Klavierauszug von F. Wollank. Berlin bei T. Trautwein,” BamZ, 5 no. 7 (13 February 1828): 53. 240 “Die schönen Ballets von Hrn. Corally… überraschten und entzückten”; “Vermählungsfeierlichkeiten,” ZfdeW: 192. 105 the ballets, in which all the talents of the local dancing troupe were united, came across excellently, and left nothing to be wished for according to the currently predominating taste, because instead of choreographing truly acted character dance pieces, only a general aspiration toward gracefulness and daintiness and the most greatest ease in executing difficult dance steps shall become apparent. 241 Die Ballette, in denen alle Talente der hiesigen Tanzgesellschaft sich vereinigt zeigten, nahmen sich vortrefflich aus, und ließen nach dem jetzt herrschenden Geschmack nichts zu wünschen übrig, da, statt den eigentlich charakteristisch mimischen Tanz auszubilden, nur ein allgemeines Bestreben nach Anmuth und Zierlichkeit, und der fertigsten Leichtigkeit in schwierigen Tanzschritten sichtbar werden will. In 1810, the Kärnthnerthor Theater staged Alceste with Anne Milder-Hauptmann in the title role. The performance was in Italian but was refashioned with more dance numbers, as in the French version. 242 All the new ballets are in the finale. All that remains in the performance score (A-Wn O. A. 454) are the bass lines for these new dances, which include the same pas de deux that appears in the score for Armide. 243 Pietro Angiolini directed the choreography for the performance of Alceste; Salvator and Maria Ester Viganò danced the pas de deux during the performance. The reviewer for Der Sammler complained that the “deformities” in the opera were made to indulge the audience’s preferences and secure “the clapping hands of the 241 A. W. S. [August Wilhelm Schlegel], “Ueber die Vermählungsfeyer Sr. K. K. Majestät Franz I. mit J. Königl. Hoheit Maria Ludovica Beatrix von Oesterreich,” Prometheus: Eine Zeitschrift, vol. 1, ed. Leo Seckendorf and Joseph Stoll (Vienna: Geistinger’s Buchhandlung, 1808), 15. 242 Denny, “Wiener Quellen zu Glucks ‘Reform’-Opern,” 18-9, 22. Starting with its premiere in Vienna in 1767, the Viennese Hofoper often performed a ballet after Alceste. See Gerhard and Renate Croll, introduction to Alceste (Vienna 1767) in SW, ser.1, vol. 3 (Kassel, 2005), xxv-vi. 243 For complete discussion of the manuscript see Croll, critical commentary to Alceste, 612-14. 106 crowd.” 244 Despite these changes to the score, the AmZ reported that the performance was not a success: On the 27th, Alceste, an opera in three acts by Gluck, was performed for the first time in the theater next to the Kärnthnerthor for the benefit of Demoiselle Milder, with little fortune. It seems to us that the director had made a mistake to have this opera performed in the Italian language this season, and almost entirely by German singers. The music is, as is well known, beautiful and full of fire and strength. Madame Milder, as Alcestis—although performing in an Italian opera for the first time—did the best she possibly could and had good takings; at the third performance, however, the house was empty. 245 Am 27sten wurde in dem Theater nächst dem Kärnthnerthor zum Vortheil der Dem. Milder zum ersten Mal: Alceste, Oper in drey Aufzügen von Gluck, aufgeführt, aber mit wenig Glück. Es scheint uns, die Direction habe einen Missgriff gethan, diese Oper in italienischer Sprache, in dieser Jahreszeit, und noch dazu fast durchgehendes von deutschen Sängern und Sängerinnen aufführen zu lassen. Die Musik ist bekanntlich schön und voll Feuer und Kraft. Dem. Milder, als Alceste– ob sie gleich zum ersten Mal in einer italienisch Oper auftrat– that ihr Möglichstes, und hatte eine gute Einnahme; bey der dritten Vorstellung aber war das Haus leer. After this failed performance in 1810, neither the French nor the Italian version of Gluck’s Alceste would return to any major Viennese operatic stage until 1885. 246 Iphigenia auf Tauris was the one opera by Gluck that occasionally appeared on the Viennese stage in the 19th century. From the 18th century to the 19th century, opera companies typically staged a ballet after the opera. In 1779, Jean-Georges Noverre choreographed Les Sythes enchaînés, in which Orestes, Iphigenia and Greek soldiers transport the statue of Diana aboard a ship and then release the Scythians, who dance in 244 “…das Händeklatschen der Menge”; M., “Notitzen”; Der Sammler, 52 (1 May 1810), 210 245 “Nachrichten Wien,” AmZ, 12 no. 35 (30 May 1810): 555. 246 Franz Hadamowsky, Die Wiener Hoftheater (Staatstheater) 1776-1966, vol. 2 (Vienna: Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, 1966), 10. 107 celebration of their new-found freedom. 247 Noverre based his choreography around the contrasting noble movements of the Greeks and barbaric gestures of the Scythians. Accompanying this ballet was music by Gossec, who transposed Gluck’s overture to C major, added clarinets, and doubled the oboe. He composed his own March, Hornpipe, and Gavotte, two Larghetti, and a finale based on Pylade’s air from act 3, sc. 7 (“Divinité des grandes âmes!”). 248 This ballet was intended to provide some sense of closure to the opera’s story. It allowed audiences to see that the Scythians enjoyed their freedom, that Orestes returned the statue of Diana to Athens, and that he found peace from the Eumenides. For the performances of Iphigenia auf Tauris on 13 March 1807, Coralli choreographed an extensive ballet number that was very similar in its action and purpose to Noverre’s. In the Morgenblatt für gebildete Stände, an anonymous writer described his time in Vienna and reviewed the performance in the form of a letter to a friend in Berlin. The writer had great esteem for Gluck, who “created a very deep effect with very simple materials... .” 249 The singers received a very brief positive mention in the review, but it was the dancers who garnered the most attention. 250 The reviewer praised Coralli and Taglioni for their dancing in the first act: 247 Synopsis printed in Mémoires Secrets (27 May 1774), reprinted in Gerhard Croll, introduction to Iphigénie en Tauride, in SW, ser. 1, vol. 9 (Kassel, 1973), x-xi. 248 Claude Role, François-Joseph Gossec (1734-1829): un musicien à Paris de l’ancien régime à Charles X (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2000), 114. A. Gastoué notes that Gossec’s ballet was very popular and often accompanied performances of Iphigénie en Tauride, but by 1786, his music was replaced by a new divertissement. Gastoué provides an overview of Gossec’s music in “Gossec et Gluck à l’Opéra de Paris: Le ballet final d’Iphigénie en Tauride,” Revue de Musicologie, 16 no. 54 (May 1935): 87-99. 249 “so teife Wirkung mit so einfachen Mitteln hervorbrachte…”; “Briefe über Wien,” Morgenblatt für gebildete Stände 66 (18 March 1807), 262. 250 The author focuses on the ballets because his Berliner friend is enamored of the genre. 108 Especially beautiful was the dance at the end of the first act of the Scythians, by whom the captured Orestes and Pylades are brought before Thoas. It began quickly, powerfully, and with bold verve of the movements, like the music that inspired it; but it acquired a high degree of character and grandeur, because Coralli and Taglioni, as leaders of the Scythians, stormed in, filled by barbaric joy themselves, swinging an axe in one hand, holding their captive’s chain in the other. Everything about these two men was significant; an exclamation of loud admiration welcomed their entrance. What variety of marvelous movements Coralli produced as he pulled away again with Orestes, to a place where he was so constrained, that he could never take his hand off him? Like a tiger certain of his prey, he moved in bold jumps around his prisoner: one moment he bowed down and looked him defiantly in the face, holding up the axe menacingly; the next moment he stood up tall, striding forward with a powerful turn of the body; the triumph of victory glowed from his expressions; then he circled his prisoner mockingly, and wound himself through his chain. One saw nothing trivial in this dancer, nothing excessive, nothing grotesque, and consistently great boldness. 251 Besonders schön war am Ende des ersten Akts der Tanz der Scythen, von welchen Orest und Pylades gefesselt vor Thoas geführt werden. Er begann rasch, kraftvoll, mit kühnem Schwung der Bewegungen, wie die Musik, die ihn leitet; aber er wurde im hohen Grade charakteristisch und groß, da Coralli und Taglioni, als Anführer der Scythen, selbst nun voll barbarischer Freude einherstürmten, in einer Hand das Beil schwingend, die andere an der Kette ihres Gefangenen. Alles an diesen beyden Männern war bedeutend; ein lauter Bewunderung bewillkommte sie ihrem Auftritte. Welche Mannigfaltigkeit herrlicher Bewegungen entwickelte nicht Coralli, als er mit Orest wieder hinwegzog, wo er doch so sehr beschränkt war, daß er nie die Hand von ihm lassen durfte? Wie ein Tieger, der seiner Beute gewiß ist, bewegte er sich in kühnen Sätzen um seinen Gefangenen: bald krümmte er sich nieder, und schaute, das Beil drohend aufwärts gehoben, ihm trotzend ins Antlitz; bald richtete er sich groß auf, mit kraftvoller Wendung des Körpers vorwärtsschreitend; der Triumph des Siegs leuchtete aus seinen Mienen; bald drehte er sich höhnend um seinen Gefangenen, und wand sich durch dessen Kette. Nichts Kleinliches sah man an diesem Tänzer, nichts Ueberladenes, und bei durchgängig großer Kühnheit nichts Groteskes. 251 Ibid., 263. 109 Whereas the reviewers thought that the wild dance movements of the Scythians suited Gluck’s music, the appearance of the Eumenides “...was relegated to the imagination of the grotesque dancers, and thus is the least successful of all the parts of the opera. They performed here only irregular jumps and meaningless movements.” 252 For the reviewer, Gluck’s music itself was expressive, and therefore only “grandiose, simple movements and a continuous congruity” were necessary. 253 As had Noverre with the production of Iphigénie en Tauride in Paris, Coralli inserted a ballet at the finale that extended the plot of the opera: The ballet at the close of the opera was wonderfully conceived and performed. Yet one must regard it as a postlude, because the connection of the same [ballet] with the opera is very loose and even contradictory to the meaning of the action. For while Iphigenia and the remaining Greeks embark, some Greeks bring a sacrifice for the gods on shore; many Scythians arrive and join them in merry dances and fighting games, which is an impossibility since their king has only just been murdered. Also, the music here is not entirely by Gluck, and what is by him was borrowed from other works... . The beginning was performed by the Scythians, who arrived arm in arm like friends, in a well-executed dance; then the offering Greeks came on from the coast of the sea, out of the deep background to about the middle of the stage, simply, without pompous movements. The boys carrying the sacrificial instruments, [i.e.] the flute, the holy fire on tripods, and two marvelous statuettes of Grecian youths, who attended to the sacrifice, gave to the whole a very cheerful look. A smaller dance began during which those who had made the sacrifice drew back again. Now a Grecian (Madame Coralli), crowned with roses, floated forth in joyful movement. Two Scythian maids (the two 252 “...ward der Erfindung der Grotesken überlassen, und ist daher aus allen Theilen der Oper am wenigsten glücklich ausgefallen. Sie gaben hier nur regellose Sprünge und bedeutungslose Bewegung”; ibid., 263. 253 “...grandiose, einfache Bewegungen und ein durchgängiges Zusammenstimmen”; ibid. 110 Decaros), dark, wreaths of leaves in their hair, both small, revolving around the taller Greek woman with numerous dancing steps, decorated her with flowering garlands and executed with her a trio, which flourished between these garlands like spring in continual new forms, and revealed in manifold ways those attractions whereby graceful movements decorate youthful bodies. Just as they departed, the Scythians began a tournament among themselves, through coarse strength, bold groupings, and violently buoyant grotesque jumps worthy of astonishment. The victor, having thrown many to the ground, lifted up others and hurled them beyond the former, vanquishing the desire of fight in all of them, proudly received the homage of his fellows. Now stepped forward the two Grecian youths (Coralli and Taglioni) in light armor; each carried a small round shield and a short sword: the most handsome of fights began, equally noble and charming in assault and defense. Always light-footed, barely touching the tips of their feet to the ground, it appeared as if two gods had come down and disdained to make contact with the earth. From their bright swords, which struck each other with bright sounds, sprayed blue sparks of fire; they themselves, in constant movements of advance and defense, boldness and artifice, nowhere showed a hint of strain or of fatigue. Noble in its movements, novel in all its groupings, and full of classical nobility, the fight acquired a constantly changing character and delighted through its rich diversity. At times they chased one another: the fugitive covered his neck with his shield and parried, fighting backwards, the strokes of his opponents; at other times they were separated by the Scythians: but, pulled toward different sides by them, they faced one another with the ever-active desire to fight, and did not stop fighting over the head of a bold Scythian who pushed his way in between them, until the moment of departure came, and the Grecian maid flew in charming haste over the wide space to the shore, and the two fighters flew with her to the boat; she disengaged the anchor, and Iphigenia, Orestes, Pylades, the maids and the two youths were led over the waves of the sea in view of the audience; the Scythians began their last dance, and the descending curtain suddenly ended the pleasures of the evening. 254 Herrlich gedacht und ausgeführt war das Ballet am Schluße der Oper. Doch muß man es als ein Nachspiel betrachten, denn die Verbindung desselben mit der Oper ist sehr lose, und sogar dem Sinne der Handlung widersprechend. Während nämlich Iphigenie 254 Ibid., 263-64. 111 und die übrigen Griechen sich einschiffen, bringen einige Griechen am Ufer den Göttern ein Dankopfer; viele Scythen kommen herbey, und vereinigen sich mit ihnen zu frohen Tänzen und Kampfspielen; welches bey der erst geschehenen Ermordung ihres Königs schlechterdings eine unmögliche Sache ist. Auch die Musik ist hier nicht durchaus von Gluck; und was von ihm ist, wurde aus andern Wetten entlehnt. ... Den Anfang machten die, in freundschaftlicher Verschlingung der Arme, auftretenden Scythen, durch einen wohlausgeführten Tanz: dann zogen die opfernden Griechen, vom Ufer des Meeres, aus dem tiefen Hintergrunde bis gegen die Mitte der Bühne, einfach, ohne Pomp der Bewegungen hervor. Die Knaben mir den Opfergeräthen, mit den Flöten, das heilige Feuer auf den Dreifüßen, und zwey herrliche Gestalten griechischer Jünglinge, die dem Opfer beywohnten, gaben dem Ganzem ein sehr heiteres Ansehen. Ein kleiner Tanz begann, während welchem sich die Opfernden wieder zurückzogen. Nun schwebte eine mit Rosen bekränzte Griechin (Madame Coralli) in froher Bewegung hervor. Zwey scythische Mädchen (die beiden Decaro) einen dunkeln Laubkranz in den Haaren, beyde klein, und die größere Griechin mit vielfachem Tanze umkreisend, schmückten sie mit Blumengewinden, und führten mit ihr ein Terzett aus, das zwischen diesen Guirlanden selbst wie ein Frühling in immer neuen Gestaltungen aufblühte, und auf dass mannigfaltigste jene Reitze enthüllte, womit eine grazienvolle Bewegung junge Körper schmückt. So wie sich diese entfernten, begannen die Scythen unter sich einen Wettkampf, durch rauhe Kraft, kühne Gruppirungen, und gewaltsamen Schwung grotesker Sprünge erstaunungswürdig. Der Sieger, nachdem er viele zur Erde niedergedrückt, manche vom Boden aufgehoben, und über die andern hinausgeworfen, allen aber die Lust des Streites benommen hatte, empfing stolz die Huldigung seiner Gefärthen. Jetzo traten die beyden griechischen Jünglinge (Coralli und Taglioni) im leichten Waffenschmucke hervor; jeder führte einen kleinen runden Schild und ein kurzes Schwert: es begann der schönste der Kämpfe, in Angriff und Vertheidigung gleich edel und reitzend. Immer schwebend, und kaum den Boden mit der Spitze des Fußes erreichend, schien es, als wären der Götter ein Paar herabgekommen, und verschmähten die Berührung der Erde. Von ihren blanken Schmettern, die mit hellem Klange auf einander trafen, spruheten blaue Funken des Feuers; sie selbst, in unaufhörlicher Bewegung des Angriffs, der Vertheidigung, der Kühnheit und List, zeigten nirgends eine Spur der Anstrengung oder der Ermattung. Edel in den Wendungen, in allen 112 Gruppirungen neu, und voll klassischer Gediegenheit, gewann dieser Kampf eine immer wechselnde Form, und erfreute durch die reichste Mannigfaltigkeit. Bald verfolgten sie sich: der Fliehende deckte den Nacken mit dem Schilde, und fieng, ruckwärts fechtend, die Streiche seines Gegners auf; bald wurden sie von den Scythen getrennt: doch, von diesen nach verschiedenen Seiten hinübergezogen, neigten sie sich vorwärts mit stets reger Lust des Streites gegen einander, und hörten nicht auf, selbst über dem Haupte eines kühnen Scythen, der sich zwischen sie drängte, zu kämpfen, bis der Moment des Aufbruchs kam, das griechische Mädchen in reizender Eile über den weiten Raum der Bühne dahinfloh, die beyden Kämpfer mit ihr zu Schiffe flogen, dieses den Anker lösete, und Iphigenien, Orest, Pylades, das Mädchen und die beyden Jünglinge im Angesichte der Zuschauer durch die Wogen des Meers führte, die Scythen ihren letzten Tanz begonnen, und der herabrollende Vorhang plötzlich die Freuden des Abends beschloß. The depiction of the ceremony surrounding the statue of Diana and the idea of spontaneous brotherhood and sisterhood between the Greeks and Scythians were very much in line with the action of Noverre’s original choreography. Yet Coralli updated the ballet to include mock duels and large ensembles in order to create, according to Susan Foster, the “new visual momentum” that was taking over European stages. 255 Anton de Pian designed new sets for the production as well (Figure 1.1). 256 255 Foster, Choreography and Narrative, 214-15. 256 Norbert Bittner, Theater Decorationen nach den Original Skitzen des K-K-Hof Theater Mahlers Anton de Pian (Vienna, 1818), n. p. I would like to thank Lisa de Alwis for photographing this document in Vienna. 113 After this run of performances from 1807 to 1810, performances of Gluck’s operas on the Viennese stage were irregular throughout the first half of the 19th century. His operas all but vanished in the 1820s, but the Hofoper revived Iphigenia auf Tauris Figure 1.1: Anton de Pian’s set design for act 1 of Iphigenia auf Tauris (1807), at the Kärnthnerthor Theater, Vienna 114 sporadically from 1831 to 1837. 257 Even then, Richard Wagner recalled hearing Iphigenia auf Tauris in Vienna in 1832, remarking that it “ bored [him] as a whole.” 258 There is one further remnant from these performances that reflects the importance of ballet on the Viennese stage. After the 1808 performance of Armide, the oboist Josef Triebensee transcribed and arranged the Marsch aus der oper Armide and the Naiads’ echo aria “Au temps heureux où l’on sait plaire,” for wind octet. 259 Triebensee sought to transcribe selections from the latest operas that would have a broad appeal to wealthy families, who could recreate the operas at home by hiring wind ensembles. 260 The fact that Triebensee chose to transcribe this march for Harmoniemusik shows that he believed audiences enjoyed the inserted ballet from Armide, even though its music was not by Gluck. In a paper presented at the American Musicological Society conference, Martin Harlow stated that these arrangements for wind ensembles gave operas an “afterlife” as they disappeared from the Viennese repertoire. Gluck’s Armide would not return to the city until 1869. Ironically, the section of Gluck’s Armide to have an “afterlife” would be music for a ballet Gluck never composed. 257 Michael Jahn, Die Wiener Hofoper von 1836 bis 1848: Die Ära Balochino/Merelli (Vienna: Der Apfel, 2004), 13. 258 Richard Wagner, My Life, ed. Mary Whittall, trans. Andrew Gray (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 62. 259 A-Wn No. 3739-I, 7-9 Suppl. Mus.. 260 Martin Harlow, “Wordless Theater: Harmoniemusik Arrangements and the Reception of Opera and Ballet in Early Nineteenth-Century Vienna,” presentation at the American Musicological Society Seventy- Seventh Annual Meeting, 11 November 2011, Hyatt Regency, San Francisco, California. 115 Gluck And Ceremony in Vienna and Berlin During his own lifetime, many of Gluck’s operatic compositions centered around the dynastic events of the Habsburg family and other noble households of Europe. 261 Gluck’s tenure and compositions for the Paris Opéra would not have happened without the aid of his former student Maria Antoinette. 262 In 1781, Gluck oversaw the German translation of Iphigénie en Tauride by Johann Baptist Alxinger for the visit of the Russian Grand Duke Paul to Vienna, which famously delayed the premiere of Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail. 263 The 1781 festivities also included the performances of Alceste and Orfeo in Italian and the German translations of Le cadi dupé (Der betrogene Kadi) and La rencontre imprévue (Die Pilger von Mekka). 264 When the Hofoper first staged Armide in 1808, it was produced for the wedding ceremonies of Emperor Franz I and his third wife, Maria Ludovika of Austria-Este. According to reports, the theater personnel remade the theater into Armide’s pleasure garden: On the 9th of January, the grand opera Armide by Gluck was performed in the Theater an der Wien. Already the day before, the house was closed and prepared for this celebration. On the first tribune, a large loge was built for the imperial family and richly decorated. All five levels and both parterres were brightly illuminated with wax candles. Accordingly, the lighting on the stage had to be doubled. 261 Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre in Vienna, 263-81. 262 Patricia Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait in Letters and Documents (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995), 107. 263 The compositional history of Die Entführung aus dem Serail and the 1782 revival can be found in Daniel Heartz, Mozart, Haydn, and Early Beethoven 1781-1802 (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2009), 16 and 312. 264 See Bruce Alan Brown, “Opéra-comiques,” in Bruce Alan Brown and Julian Rushton, "Gluck, Christoph Willibald Ritter von," in Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/11301pg9 (accessed February 2, 2011). 116 A damask canopy was suspended above the main entrance; from the door, however, through the court of the front building, one beheld an illuminated alley of lemon and orange trees in which the ground was dressed with green drapery. A tent covered the entire court, and grenadiers lined both sides. 265 Am 9ten Januar wurde die große Oper Armida von Gluck in dem Theater an der Wien aufgeführt. Schon Tages zuvor war das Haus geschlossen und für diese Festlichkeiten eingerichtet worden. Auf der ersten Tribune war eine große Loge für die Kaiserl. Familie erbaut und reich ausgeschmückt. Alle fünf Stockwerke und beide Parterre’s befanden sich stark mit Wachskerzen beleuchtet. Demnach hatte auch die Beleuchtung der Bühne selbst verdoppelt werden müssen. Ueber den Haupteingang war ein Himmel von Damast gezogen, von dem Thor aber, durch den Hof des Vorgebäudes, erblickte man eine erleuchtete Allee von Citronen- und Orangebäumen, in welcher der Fußboden mit grünen Tuche bekleidet war. Den ganzen Hof bedeckte ein Zelt, Grenadiere machten Spalier auf beiden Seiten. By recreating Armide’s pleasure garden in the theatre, the Emperor and his new bride could, like Renaud and Armide, escape and forget the wars ravishing Europe. 266 Two years later, Salieri directed a performance of Iphigenia auf Tauris on 9 March 1810 as part of the wedding ceremonies of Maria Louisa of Austria to Emperor Napoleon by proxy (Archduke Charles represented the French emperor). 267 From the time of these performances until 1837, however, only Gluck’s Iphigenia auf Tauris remained in the Viennese repertoire, and inconsistently. In the 1840s, there were no performances of Gluck’s operas whatsoever. In his review of Wagner’s 265 “Vermählungsfeierlichkeiten,“ ZfdeW: 191. There is also a similar description of this celebration in the journal Prometheus (1808), 13 and Oesterreichlisch-Kaiserliche privilegirte Weiner Zeitung (9 January 1808): 121-22. 266 Additional remarks about the Viennese aristocracy’s patronage of music during the Napoleonic Wars can be found in John A. Rice, Empress Marie Therese and Music at the Viennese Court, 1792-1807 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003). 267 “Notizen,” Der Sammler 31 (13 March 1810), 324. 117 arrangement of Iphigenia in Aulis, Hanslick noted: “Should one be more amazed that this masterpiece, first performed in Paris with unheard-of success in 1774, came so late to Vienna – on 14 December 1808 – or that, after two years (1810), it was missing from our stage, never to return to again?” 268 Other critics also derided Vienna for ignoring the composer it had once supported. 269 Despite Vienna’s central role in the development and support of Gluck’s reform operas in the 18th century, during the 19th century it was Berlin’s opera houses that appropriated and cultivated Gluck’s operatic works in the German-speaking area. 270 These performances were often tied to dynastic celebrations of members of the Hohenzollerns of Prussia. 271 Oddly, Gluck had few or no interactions with members of the Hohenzollerns throughout his career and never visited Berlin. (As mentioned earlier, the family’s glorious patriarch, Frederick the Great, disliked Gluck’s work.) The remainder of this section will demonstrate that the consistent performances of Gluck’s 268 “Soll man mehr darüber erstaunen, daß dieses in Paris schon 1774 mit unerhörtem Erfolg gegebene Meisterwerk in Wien so spät erst – am 14. Dezember 1808 – zur Aufführung kam, oder daß es zwei Jahre darauf (1810) bereits auf Nimmerwiedersehen von unserer Bühne verschwunden war?”; Eduard Hanslick, Die modern Oper: Kritiken und Studien (Berlin: Allgemeiner Verein für Deutsche Literature, 1885), 5 quoted in Jost, Iphigenia in Aulis, 48. 269 Michael Jahn, Die Wiener Hofoper von 1836 bis 1848: Die Ära Balochino/Merelli (Vienna: Der Apfel, 2004), 11. 270 Paris still maintained a decent Gluck tradition in the 19th century, but as noted above, Berlioz remarked that Gluck’s works still held the stage primarily in Berlin (Memoirs, 448). For an overview of Gluck’s operas in the Paris opera and concert repertoire from the Revolution through the Restoration, see Johnson, Listening in Paris, and Mark Everist’s comments about the history of Gluck’s works on the Paris stage in the early half of the 19th century in “Gluck, Berlioz, and Castil-Blaze: The Poetics and Reception of French Opera,” in Reading Critics Reading: Opera and Ballet Criticism in France from the Revolution to 1848, eds. R. Parker and M. A. Smart (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 86-108. As discussed in the first section, during Gustav III’s reign in Sweden from 1772 to 1792, a considerable number of Gluck’s operas were performed in Swedish translation and attached to dynastic festivals. See Richard Engländer, Johann Gottlieb Naumann als Opernkomponist (1741-1801): mit neuen Beiträgen zur Musikgeschichte Dresdens und Stockholms (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1922), 65-80, especially pages 79-80. 271 Christoph Henzel, “Von der preußischen Nationaloper zum wahren Musikdrama,” 54-63 and Hugo Fetting, Die Geschichte der Deutsche Staatsoper (Berlin: Henschleverlag, 1955). 118 operas on the Berlin stage, subsumed into large dynastic festivals throughout the 19th century, helped Berlin critics accept the composer as one of their own, and will show how institutions and individuals manipulated his life and music to meet nationalistic agendas. 272 Though Berlin would see the most stagings of Gluck’s operas in the 19th century, German opera companies in other cities, too, performed his operas in conjunction with elaborate dynastic events of the ruling household. 273 The purpose behind these dynastic events, particularly in the Restoration politics of the Biedermeier period, was to portray an “element of continuity” with the 18th century. 274 In order to create a direct connection with the past, royal houses appropriated practices from other cultures or invented traditions which communities believed to have originated from a long-forgotten past. 275 These 19th-century dynastic events used opera and other theatrical presentations to uphold the status quo and promote the unquestionable authority of the monarchy, as had 272 Gluck was not alone in this nationalistic manipulation on the Berlin stage; as the Hofoper and Nationaltheater also staged the operas of Mozart, Spontini, and others during these dynastic events. 273 Klaus Hortschansky observes that the first performance of Gluck’s Armide in a German principality took place in Hanover for the birthday celebration of the king in 1782. The opera was sung in Italian; see Hortschansky, introduction to Armide, ser. 1, vol. 8, SW (Kassel, 1991), xxviii. This use of Gluck’s operas within 19th-century royal celebrations extends beyond Berlin. In Dresden, when Richard Wagner became the Kapellmeister in 1843, his first duty was to stage and direct Gluck’s Armide for the nameday of the Saxon king (Kirchmeyer, Wagner in Dresden, 712). During the 1850s, Franz Liszt’s revivals of Gluck’s works in Weimar also occurred during celebratory festivals for the Grand Duke’s household. The playbills for these Weimar performances can be found online at http://archive.thulb.uni- jena.de/ThHStAW/receive/ThHStAW_archivesource_00014453?jumpback=true&maximized =true&page=/009776.tif&derivate=ThHStAW_derivate_00044138 (accessed 25 August 2011). 274 Ute Daniels, Hoftheater: zur Geschichte des Theaters und der Höfe im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1995), 116. See also Meyer, Carl Maria von Weber, 24-26, for a discussion of the continuation of 18th-century dynastic practices in 19th-century Dresden. 275 Eric Hobsbawm’s “Introduction: Inventing Traditions,” 1-14. For an interesting overview of the revival of many archaic traditions by conservative European principalities from the Fin de Siècle to World War II, see Arno Mayer, The Persistence of the Old Regime: Europe to the Great War (New York: Pantheon Books, 1981). 119 been the custom in the 18th century. 276 Within this cultural context, critics easily manipulated Gluck’s biography and works so that they no longer belong to the Austrians or the French but to the Germans. 277 In the case of Berlin, as Table 1.3 demonstrates, these celebrations ranged from a festival surrounding the king of Prussia’s return from exile to the centenary celebration of the opening of the royal opera house. These events often provided composers and poets with the opportunity to compose new works for the occasions. 278 276 Friedrich Sengle, Biedermeierzeit: Deutsche Literatur im Spannungsfeld zwischen Restauration und Revolution 1815-1848, vol. 1, Allgemeine, Voraussetzungen, Richtungen, Darstellungsmittel (Stuttgart: J.. B. Metzler, 1973), 311-16. 277 The present section focuses on performances at the Nationaltheater and Hofoper. There were royal events outside of the opera house that involved Gluck’s music. The singers Lange, Leonhard, and Weck performed selection from Gluck’s Orpheus as part of the “Abend-Unterhaltung im Palais der Königlichen Prinzessinnen” in March and November of 1826. The music from act 2, sc. 1-3 accompanied a tableau vivant of Ariadne und Amore from the frescos of Pompeii. The evening’s events included a diverse mixture of operatic selections from works by Salieri, B. A. Weber, and Rossini. As Thomas Grey points out in “Mendelssohn and Visual Imagination,” 19th-Century Music 21, no. 1 (Summer 1997): 38-76, the tableaux vivant tradition began in aristocratic circles in the 18th century but became popular among the educated middle class in the 19th century. Anno Mungen observes that these “Abend-Unterhaltung” events were entirely for members of the Prussian court and not open to the public (“BilderMusik”: Panoramen, Tableaux vivants und Lichtbilder als multimediale Darstellungsformen in Theater- und Musikaufführungen vom 19. bis zum frühen 20. Jahrhundert, vol. 1 [Remscheid: Gardez! Verlag, 2006], 110). In 1840, the overture from Gluck’s Armide opened another tableaux vivant performance that included images from the history of Brandenburg. The third tableau vivant of the evening depicted a scene from the Thirty Years’ War, and Fassmann sang an “Arie der Bellona” based on music to Gluck’s “Venez, venez haine implacable” from act 3, sc. 3 of Armide. Reported in “Lebende Bilder,” AmZ 43 no. 48 (25 November 1840), 999 cited in Anno Mungen, BilderMusik, vol. 2, 75. For another overview of the history of the tableaux vivant tradition in German-speaking areas, see Kirsten Gram Holmstöm, Monodrama Attitudes Tableaux Vivants: Studies in Some Trends of Theatrical Fashion, 1770-1815 (Stockholm: Almquist & Wiksell, 1967), 209-33. 278 This table was compiled from available play bills at the SBB. There is, however, a lacuna of playbills from the 1820s and ʼ30s in the SBB’s collection, for example. The writer August Klingemann notes a performance of Gluck’s Armide in honor of the crown princes of Sweden in 1821 yet does not provide any specific day or mention any musical or poetic additions to the performance, in Kunst und Natur. Aus meinem Reisetagbuch, vol. 3 (Braunschweig: C. G. E. Meyer, 1828), 357, cited in Harten, Die Bühnenentwürfe, 335. 120 Date of Performance Purpose of Celebration Opera Additional material 15 August 1807 Feyer des Geburtsfestes Sr. Majestät des Kaisers Napoleon, Königs von Italien Armide ... Die zur Handlung gehörigen Ballets sind vom Herrn Balletmeister Lauchery Frei= Komödie. Auf Befehl des Französischen Gouvernements 25 December 1809 Rückkehr Ihrer Majestäten des Königs und der Königin Iphigenia in Aulis ... Ballets sind vom königlichen Balletmeister Herrn Lauchery. Die Musik dazu ist vom Königlichen Kapellmeister Herrn Weber. Pantomimische- allegorischen Prolog von B. A. Weber 13 July 1816 Geburtstagfest für Princess Charlotte Iphigenia in Tauris Rede: ein Gedicht von E. Herklots, gesprochen by Madame Devrient 15 October 1817 Geburtstag des Kronprinzen Friedrich Wilhelm Alceste. ... Die zur Handlung gehörigen Ballets sind vom Königl. Balletmeister Telle. Prolog von Baron de la Motte Fouqué gesprochen von Herrn Wolff 15 October 1818 Zur Feier des Höchsten Geburtsfestes seiner Königlichen Hoheit des Kronprinzen Friedrich Wilhelm von Preußen Orpheus und Euridice. ... Die zur Handlung gehörigen Ballets sind von dem königl. Balletmeister Telle. Rede; gedichtet von A. F. E. Langbein, gesprochen von Herrn Wolff... Table 1.3: Gluck’s operas performed during royal celebrations in Berlin. 121 Table 1.3 (Continued) 3 August 1827 Zur Feier des Allerhöchsten Geburtsfestes Seiner Majestät des Königs Friedrich Wilhelm des Dritten Iphigenia in Tauris Festmarsch, seiner Majestät dem Könige zugeeignet von Spontini, Hierauf: Rede, gedichtet vom Kriegsrath May, gesprochen von Madam Schröck. Dann: Volksgesang, den Preußen gewidmet von Spontini 7 December 1842 Festspiel zur hundertjährigen Feier der Einweihung des Opernhauses Iphigenia in Tauris. Große Oper in 4 Abtheilungen, aus dem Französischen, mit Tanz. Uebersetzt von Sander, componirt von Ritter Gluck. Ouvertüre aus der Oper: “Cleopatra,” von Graun. Hierauf: Festspiel hunderjährigen Feier der Einweihung des Opernhauses, gedichtet von Rellstab. Musik von W. Taubert. 15 October 1848 Feier des Geburtsfestes Sr. Majestät des Königs im Königl. Opernhause Alceste... Die zur Handlung gehörigen Ballets sind von Hoguet Zur Feier des Geburtsfestes Sr. Majestät des Königs, gesprochen von Herrn Hendrichs. 29 November 1848 Die Silberne Hochzeit des Königspaares Alceste... Die zur Handlung gehörigen Ballets sind vom K. Balletmeister Hoguet Allegorischem Schluße mit Musik von Gluck [arranged by Taubert] From Table 1.3, we can see that Berlin opera companies staged Gluck’s Paris operas for the these dynastic celebrations in the 19th century. There were performances 122 of the Viennese Alceste in 1796 and 1804 and a performance of Orfeo ed Euridice in 1821, both of which were critical and financial failures. 279 Gluck’s opéras-comiques, which mixed spoken dialogue and singing, were very popular in translation on the German stage during the 18th century and influenced the development of German Singspiel. 280 In the early 19th century, though, Gluck’s opéras-comiques were rarely, if ever, performed in major European opera houses, except for a single 1807 performance of Die Pilger von Mekka (La Rencontre imprévue) in Vienna. 281 It would not be until the end of the 19th century that a brief revival in Vienna would bring Gluck’s opéras- comiques back to the stage. 282 From 1795 to the 1850s, Gluck’s Paris operas dominated the stage, providing 19th-century composers with a model for creating a unified German opera. 283 Under the direction of August Iffland, the Nationaltheater presented the Parisian operas of Gluck and other French operas as if they were German operas from the 1790s onward. 284 In a review of the 1795 performance of Iphigenia in Tauris, an anonymous critic praised the Nationaltheater for presenting “a masterpiece of the German composer.” 285 Additionally, in case anyone questioned Gluck’s loyalty to the cause of German music, the writer stated that “[he] was German and, as such, had to fight with the 279 Henzel, “Von der preußischen Nationaloper zum wahren Musikdrama,” 58. 280 Brown, “Opéra-comiques” in Grove Music Online. 281 Hortschansky, “Christoph Willibald Gluck” in Pipers, 432. 282 Ibid. 283 For comments about Gluck’s influence on the development of 18th and 19th-century German opera, see Warrack, German Opera, 272, Henzel, “Zwischen Hofoper und Nationaltheater,” 207, and Meyer, Carl Maria von Weber, 198-99n. 18. 284 Henzel, “Zwischen Hofoper und Nationaltheater,” 207. 285 “Kunstwerke eines Deutschen Komponisten”; Review of Iphigenia in Tauris (Nationaltheater, Berlin), Vossische Zeitung, 26 February 1795. 123 cabals in Paris from the outset... .” 286 Though it was not tied to any specific dynastic celebration, the royal family attended the performance. One anecdote to emerge from this 1795 performance was that Prince Heinrich, the brother of Frederick the Great, attended so that he could laugh at the opera; however, the production under B. A. Weber’s direction was so astounding that the Prince was greatly moved and thanked the Kapellmeister profusely. 287 1809: Iphigenia in Aulis The Hofoper and Nationaltheater absorbed Gluck’s operas into large German festivals without any discussion of his national origin. 288 In 1809, the Nationaltheater performed the Berlin premiere of Iphigenia in Aulis in German as a part of a larger ceremony commemorating the return of King Frederick William III to Berlin when, only two years earlier, the theater had staged Armide for the celebration of the birthday of Emperor Napoleon. This performance of Iphigenia in Aulis perhaps speaks to a larger problem for German operatic theaters in the early 19th century: there was a lack of 286 “Er war ein Deutscher, und hatte, als solcher, Anfangs in Paris mit der Kabale zu kämpfen... ”; ibid. There was considerable debate in the 19th century as to whether Gluck was a German or Bohemian composer. In the first complete biography about Gluck, Anton Schmid summarizes the various locations 18th- and 19th-century critics proposed as the composer’s birthplace (the first chapter of Christoph Willibald Ritter von Gluck, dessen Leben und tonkünstlerisches Wirken [Leipzig: Friedrich Fleischer, 1854]). In general, Gluck’s national identity remained fluid throughout the century, and critics could manipulate Gluck’s nationality in order to meet certain aesthetic or nationalistic agendas. 287 Bauman, Northern German Opera, 265. This anecdote was cited in Weber’s obituary in the Berlinische Nachrichten. 288 Brent O. Peterson observes that throughout the 19th century, from the Napoleonic Wars to the time of unification, German’s cultural institutions and literary elite presented histories and fictional narratives that transformed mythological, political, and artistic heros of the divided kingdoms and principalities to national heros belonging to all Germans, in History, Fiction, and Germany: Writing the Nineteenth-Century Nation (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 2005), 1-27. 124 serious German operas, composed by native musicians, available for such ceremonial events. 289 At this 1809 performance, Weber composed music for a prologue with poetry by August Mahlmann. This was an allegorical pantomime representing the royal family’s departure from and return to Berlin. 290 One reviewer for the Berliner Nachrichten stated that “a large part of the audience was hearing this piece for the first time, but probably wished to hear it again.” 291 The performance of the opera itself included many new ballets with music by Weber, which the reviewer for the Berlinische Nachrichten praised for blending with Gluck’s original music. 292 Iffland printed an introduction in the libretto to Iphigenia in Aulis explaining why this particular opera was perfect for the day’s celebration: It will be self explanatory to the respectful reader why the insightful and finely sensitive directorship of the Royal National- Theater had postponed the performance of this brilliant drama up until the long-awaited and hoped-for return of Their Majesties the King and the Queen. What other [piece] would have been appropriate than this for the celebration of this happy day, which restores the long-deprived fortune to us, in which a queen and her daughter are welcomed by an adoring people with loud rejoicing and in which the most haunting fear is transformed in the end into the most beautiful rejoicing! In addition, if one considers that the 23rd of December, on which this drama will be performed for the first time, is the day before the wedding anniversary festivities of 289 Warrack, German Opera, 165-8, 191-213. 290 There is also Beethoven’s well-known piano sonata no. 26, “Les Adieux,” which he composed for his patron Archduke Rudolph, who had to flee Vienna due to the French occupation. 291 “...ein großer Theil des Publikums erst kennen zu lernen aber wohl noch einmal zu hören wünschte”; Berlinische Nachrichten, 1 January 1810. 292 Review of Iphigenia in Aulis by Christoph Gluck (Nationaltheater, Berlin), Berlinische Nachrichten, 1 January 1810. 125 the royal couple, one has to admit that the choice, especially regarding the final chorus, could not have been a better one. 293 Es wird dem aufmerksamen Leser von selbst einleuchten, warum die einsichtsvolle und fein empfindende Direction des Königlichen National-Theaters die Aufführung dieses glänzenden Schauspiels bis zur lange ersehnten und gehofften Rückkehr Ihrer Majestäten des Königs und der Königin aufgeschoben hat. Welches andere wäre der Feier des frohen Tages, der uns das lange entbehrte Glück wiedergiebt, eben so angemessen gewesen, wie dieses, worin eine Königin mit ihrer Tochter von einem sie anbetenden Volke mit lautem Frohlocken empfangen wird, und worin die quälendste Angst am Ende in das schönste Entzücken übergeht! – Wenn man nun noch daran denkt, daß der 23ste December, an welchem dieses Schauspiel zum ersten Mal gegeben wird, der Tag vor der Vermählungsfeier des Königlichen Ehepaares ist, so wird man zugestehen müssen, daß die Wahl, vorzuglich in Betreff des Schluß-Chors, nicht glücklicher getroffen werden konnte. A few days prior to the performance, Iffland printed a translation of selections from Iphigenia in Aulis in the Vossische Zeitung in order to excite readers about the performance and demonstrate how the words and themes of the opera fit with this “Vaterlandsfeier”: Iphigenia in Aulis. On the 23rd of this month, on the day that the King and Queen return to Berlin, the opera will certainly open with Gluck’s lyrical drama, Iphigenia in Aulis. It has been saved by the theater directors for the celebration of the desired return of the supreme royal couple for some time now. Bailly du Rollet wrote it for the Paris Opera in the year 1774. Gluck set it to music. On April 12, 1774, it debuted to enchanted applause. And it is no doubt that, in Berlin more than anywhere else, a chorus such as the following: What beauty, what majesty! 293 [J. D. Sander or August Wilhelm Iffland?], “Nachschrift zu der Vorrede,” to Iphigenia in Aulis (1809), n.p. J. D. Sander provided a translation for the performance, and the libretto contained the original French alongside the German. Sander claimed he did not want to make a mere German copy of the text, but rather to convey the sentiment behind the original words so that the music spoke directly to the listeners’ emotions. 126 What gracefulness! see, oh see!–– Blissfully happy Atreus’s great son! Contented by the joys of fatherhood Contented in his wife’s arms, splendor on Mycenae’s throne. or as: Sing loud, praise high the sublime Queen! We sing, we exalt our Queen! The god to whom her life is devoted, Now also makes us eternally happy. or as: You, sweet god of marriage: Has your temple ever seen A couple praying at the most sacred altar that was more loving and blissful? will make the deepest, most vivid impression, electrify the audience, and inevitably make the spectator part of the action. Who will not empathize with the words of Iphigenia: Oh how very difficult yet also how sweet, how beautiful, So unexpected, so suddenly To change from fear and wildest pain To the highest and most divine joys! or with the quartet in the finale: My heart beats so joyfully in my breast; My whole life is nothing but bliss! Yes, I shall raise myself to the high seat of the gods; Oh, heavenly air is streaming through me! I can hardly breath; what delight! Bliss shines in my gaze; I am barely conscious! Who will not read a beautiful meaning into these words, considering the general celebration of the fatherland! How doubly heartwarming is the closing chorus, especially: Up to the most distant spheres of the ether May our loud cries of gratitude arise! Let us also praise this couple, this noble couple, Who chose each other and are so worthy of each other! 127 That the god Hymen binds them with roses Tells us: the heavenly wrath has vanished! And this wedding celebration heralds To us victory and eternal glory. Doesn’t the final chorus, which happens to be so fitting, remind us of the year 1793? For it was in that year that the Queen, then Princess of Mecklenberg-Strelitz, came to Berlin on December 23, and her wedding day was the 24th. Praised be each 23 December! 294 Iphigenia in Aulis. Am 23sten d., dem Tage, an welchem der König und die Königin nach Berlin zurückkehren, wird das Operntheater bestimmt mit Gluck’s lyrischer Tragödie Iphigenia in Aulis eröffnet. Seit Jahr und Tag ist sie von der Theater-Direction zu Feyer der erwünschten Rückkehr des hohen Königlichen Paares aufgespart. Der Bailly du Rollet dichtete sie im J. 1774 für das Pariser Operntheater. Gluck setzte sie in Musik. Am 12ten April 1774 wurde sie mit dem Beifall des Entzückens aufgeführt. Und es ist kein Zweifel, daß in Berlin mehr als irgend wo, Chöre, wie folgender: Welche Schönheit, welche Majestät! Welche Anmuth! seht, o seht! -- Hochbeglückt Atreus großer Sohn! Glücklich durch die Vaterfreuden Glücklich in der Gattinn Armen, herrlich auf Mycenens Thron! [Que d’attraits, que de majesté! Que de grâces, que de beauté! Qu’aux auteurs de ses jours elle doit être chère! Agamemnon est à la fois Le plus fortuné père, Le plus heureux époux et le plus grand des rois (act 1, sc. 6)] oder wie: Singt laut, preiset hoch die erhabnen Königin! Wir singen, wir erheben unsre Königin! Der Gott, dem sich ihr Leben weihet, Macht nun auf ewig auch uns beglückt. [Chantez, célébrez votre Reine! 294 [August Wilhelm Iffland?], “Königliches Nationaltheater. Iphigenia in Aulis,” Vossische Zeitung (12 December 1809). 128 L’hymen qui sous ses loix m’enchaîne, Va vous rendre à jamais heureux (Achilles, act 2, sc. 3).] oder wie: Hat wohl dein Tempel je, am heiligsten Altar Du holder Gott der Ehen, Ein Paar schon beten sehen Das liebvoller noch, und noch beglückter war? [Jamais à tes autels le plus saint des serments, Favorable Hymenée, N’enchaîna la destinée De plus heureux époux, de plus tendres amans. (Quartet, act 2, sc. 3)] den tiefsten, lebendigsten Eindruck machen, das Publikum elektrisren, den Zuschauer unwillkührlich zum Mithändler umschaffen werden. Wer wird bei den Worten der Iphigenia: O wie so schwer doch auch wie süß, wie schön, So unverhofft, so auf einmal Von Angst und wilder Qual Zu hohen Götterfreuden übergehen! [Ah! qu’il est doux! mais qu’il est difficile De passer, si subitement, Du plus cruel tourment A la félicité suprême. (act 2, sc. 9)] beim Quatuor im Finale: Mein Herz klopft so froh in der Brust; Nur Wonn’ ist jetzt mein ganzes Leben! Ja, ich soll zu der Götter hohen Sitz mich erheben; Ach mich durchströmet Himmelsluft! Kaum athm’ ich; welch Entzücken! Wonne glänzt in meinen Blicken; Kaum bin ich länger mein bewußt. [Mon coeur ne sauroit soutenir L’excès de mon bonheur extrême: Palpitant, il s’élance au-delà de moi-même, Il est enivré de plaisir. A peine je respire; Quel aimable délire Vient s’emparer de tous mes sens!] nicht diese Worte nachempfinden, ihnen nicht, in der allgemeinen Vaterlandsfeier, den schöner Sinn unterlegen! 129 Wie doppelt herzerfreuend ist besonders das Schlußchor: Bis zu des Aethers fernsten Kreisen Steig’ unser lauter Dank empor! Laßt auch dies Paar, dies edle Paar, uns preisen, Das, sein so würdig, sich erkohr! Daß Gott Hymen mit Rosen es bindet, Sagt uns: Der Himmlischen Zorn verrann! Und diese Hochzeitfeier kündet Uns Sieg und ew’gen Nachruhm an. [Jusques aux voûtes éthérées Portons nos voeux reconnoissans, Et célébrons les noces désirées Da ces deux illustres amans. Leur bonheur est le premier gage De la juste faveur des dieux; Et leur hymen est le présage De nos triomphez glorieux (act 3, sc. 9).] Erinnert uns dies zufällig so passende Schlußchor nicht gar besonders an das Jahr 1793? Damals nämlich kam die Königin als Prinzessin von Mecklenburg-Strelitz, gerade am 23 Dec. nach Berlin, und am 24sten war Vermählungstag. Heil jedem 23sten Dezember! Although the opera came from Paris, this writer saw the meaning of the text and opera as directly related to the past events of 1793 and current events of 1809. As a form of flattery, the writer wanted the audience to perceive Queen Louisa as both Iphigenia and Clytemnestra. 295 By associating the queen with Clytemnestra, Berlin audiences saw 295 For a discussion of the changing image of Queen Louisa in 19th-century German literature and historiography, see Peterson, History, Fiction, and Germany, 166-71. Courtly entertainment has always been a vehicle through which patriarchs and monarchs could see themselves as the inheritors of Greco- Roman antiquity. This event in 1809 and other such 19th-century festivities continued this courtly tradition. For a discussion of the new dimension that this use of Greek antiquity took in 19th-century Germany, particularly on the educational reforms advocated by Wilhelm von Humboldt, see George S. Williamson, The Longing for Myth in Germany: Religion and Aesthetic Culture from Romanticism to Nietzsche (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 2004), 35-41, and Theodore Ziolkowski, German Romanticism and its Institutions (Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1990), 324. Jason Geary notes that Frederick William IV invited 19th-century poets and musicians to Berlin to create works that revived ancient Greek drama, poetry, and music (“Inventing the Past: Mendelssohn’s Antigone and the 130 Clytemnestra’s actions to protect her daughter from the sacrificial blade as the queen’s actions to protect the Prussian people from Napoleon’s armies. 296 By associating her with Iphigenia, the audience saw Queen Louisa as willing to sacrifice herself for the Prussian people. The other aspect of the opera’s plot that Iffland highlighted was that Iphigenia was brought to Aulis in preparation for her marriage to Achilles, much as with Louisa’s wedding celebration of 1793. As Eva Giloi notes, the queen was “depicted in maternal hues from the moment she arrived as a young bride in Berlin and, against all royal protocol, set to kissing the children sent in procession to greet her.” 297 Throughout the Napoleonic Wars, the royal family’s domestic situation was a political act in which a secure, comfortable household represented a stable nation. 298 In the end, this performance of Iphigenia in Aulis, along with the entire celebration of the royal family’s return from exile, helped people forget about the war and evoked a simple, stable time in the city’s and nation’s history. This search for long-forgotten traditions, evocations of a simpler past, and return to the status quo came to the forefront of European culture during the Biedermeier period. Since old monarchies needed to reassert their power and create a sense of normalcy in political and domestic life, traditions were manufactured and the past was recreated to Creation of an Ancient Greek Musical Language,” Journal of Musicology 23 no. 2 [Spring 2006]: 187- 226). 296 At Tilsit, Queen Louisa met with Emperor Napoleon in order to garner favorable terms for Prussia’s surrender. This action remade her into the maternal protectorate of her German people. 297 Giloi, Monarchy, Myth, and Material Culture, 19. 298 Ibid. 131 reassure the populace of a return to the natural order. 299 According David Blackbourn, the nobility was “helped in this by the cult of monarchy among Romantic artists and intellectuals, with its emphasis on the ‘historic’ and its fondness for an (imaginary) stable past.” 300 Though Prussia was not a new kingdom after the Congress of Vienna, it acquired new territories and a stronger position on the European stage. Prussian institutions appropriated the musical and artistic practices of other major European cultural centers and promoted them as Prussian. As Dahlhaus notes, “any high-quality music written in an emerging nation will be taken as national music simply because it meets the nation’s need for a common musical property.” 301 For Prussia, the national and royal theaters found something inherent in Gluck’s operas that met the nation’s need to extol its own virtues and powers to the rest of the European principalities. 1817: Alceste To make it clear that Gluck’s operas belonged to Prussian culture and reflected the power of the Hohenzollern family, prior to a performance a poet might read a new panegyric on the significance of the day’s events. The poet, Baron de la Motte Fouqué, for example, wrote a prologue for the opening of the 1817 performance of Alceste, which celebrated the birthday of Prince Frederick William IV: It is once again a most beautiful day Risen from the flood of time. You all praise and thank with me, don’t you? So why should I prompt you with words! Your breast swells, I know, fresh And patriotic for the son of the King, 299 David Blackbourn, The Long Nineteenth Century: A History of Germany, 1780-1918 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 97 and Sengle, Biedermeierzeit, 126-27. 300 Blackbourn, The Long Nineteenth Century, 97. 301 Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, 38. 132 For whom today blooming celebratory wreaths are woven together From the rocky Silberberg to the Baltic, From the banks of the Memel to the shores of the Rhine. O how many rich images of joy Emanate from him, the old, beautiful, German Rhine In the moon’s most recent course! On the Rhine, on the Rhine––it resounds like chords of a song!– On the Rhine, the jolly winemakers cheered: ‘Bless us, who are now joyful Prussians!’ And we, we cheered back to the other [shore]: ‘Bless us, who sent you this joyful pledge For this bright future!’ And ‘Brother! Brother!’ sounds from every land of the Prussian states, because we are united in pious joy to our King’s son. A name [that] adorns both the son and the father, yes the future and present advisors [of Prussia]– Hail Frederick William! Hail the Prussian Throne! Es ist abermal ein schöner Tag Heraufgestiegen aus der Zeiten Fluth. Nicht wahr, Ihr alle preist und dankt mit mir: – Weshalb dann Euch anregen erst mit Worten! In Eurem Busen, weiß ich, quillt es frisch Und vaterländisch für den Königssohn, Dem heut’ sich blühende Feierkränze flechten, Vom fels’gen Silberberge bis zur Ostsee, Vom Memelstrande bis zum Rheingestad. O wie der reichen Freudenbilder viel Vom ihm, dem alten, schönen, deutschen Rhein Herleuchten aus der jüngsten Monde Lauf! Am Rhein, am Rhein – mir tönt’s wie Leidessaiten!– Am Rheine jubelten die muntern Winzer: ‘Heil uns, die wir nun frohe Preußen sind!’ Und wir, wir jubelten nach dort hinüber: ‘Heil uns, daß wir Euch dieses heitre Pfand Für heitre Zukunft hatten zugesandt!’ Und ‘Brüder! Brüder!’ tönt’s aus allen Landen Des Preußenstaats, weil wir vereint uns fanden In frommer Lust an unsres Herrschers Sohn. Ein Name schmückt den Sohn ja und den Vater, Der Zukunft, und Gegenwart Berather, – 133 Hoch Friedrich Wilhelm! Hoch der Preußenthron! 302 Fouqué couched the entire performance in terms of a celebration of Prussian nationhood and implied that the longevity of the Prussian state depended on the health and well-being of its future leader. The plot of Gluck and Calzabigi’s Alceste fit perfectly within this theme, as Alcestis sacrifices herself so that her husband, King Admetus, would live. In honor of this sacrifice, Apollo rewards Alcestis by restoring her to life. The opera centers around a wife’s devotion to her husband, and the entire event at the Hofoper asked for a similar devotion from the Prussian people toward their future king. Fouqué’s poem and others like it did not represent the height of 19th-century Romantic poetry. Instead, they were works that served a purpose, much like the new music associated with these events. Moreover, most composers and poets wrote these event-specific pieces in a hurry to satisfy tight deadlines and their patrons’ requests. When E. T. A. Hoffmann worked at the court in Bamberg, he composed a prologue for his patron’s nameday: I have composed “poetry” for the local theater. ... Herr Cuno decided to celebrate her name day in the theater and passed on to me the task of writing a prologue. I threw together a very ordinary, sentimental thing [Die Pilgerin], and composed equally maudlin music for it. It was put on with lights, horns, echoes, mountains, rivers, bridges, trees (with carved names), flowers, and wreaths in abundance; it pleased tremendously, and for thus stirring up their emotions I received thirty caronlins with very gracious comments by the Princess Mother. This was just enough to make me more or less solvent. At a certain point in the prologue– “I went, I flew, I fell into her arms!” (an exceedingly beautiful climax)– mother and daughter tearfully embraced each other in the ducal box, which the audience applauded rather 302 Baron de la Motte Fouqué, “Rede gesprochen im Opernhause am 15ten Oktober,” Vossische Zeitung, 17 October 1817. 134 ironically. But they, too, liked the prologue and it was requested for the next day. 303 Judging by the royal family’s behavior and the audience’s reaction, Hoffmann’s music and poetry conveyed the right message and fulfilled their task in creating the right atmosphere for the event. Returning to Berlin, this 1817 performance of Alceste was the first time Berliners had experienced Alceste in German, and this had a positive effect on the reception of the opera. In 1796, Gluck’s Alceste made it to the Hofoper stage; however, as Henzel observes, Frederick William II’s preference was for Metastasian opera seria, so the Hofoper changed Alceste accordingly. Even with such modifications, the critics Carl Friedrich Zelter and Johann Gottlieb Carl Spazier found the opera to be too uniform in action and not representative of the opera seria principles. 304 In 1804 at the Nationaltheater, Iffland and Hellwig staged a version of the opera that synthesized the Viennese and Parisian scores but was sung in Italian. In 1817, when the Hofoper staged the Paris version of Alceste in German translation, the reviewer for the Berlinische Nachrichten exclaimed: “For the first time we enjoyed this work of art, because we heard it in German, performed through German artists and, in general, in a later perfected form.” 305 The German artists who performed in the 1817 production included Heinrich 303 E. T. A. Hoffmann, letter to Julius Eduard Hitzig in Bamberg, 1 January 1809, published in Selected Letters of E. T. A. Hoffmann, trans. and ed. Johann C. Sahlin with introduction by Leonary J. Kent and Johanna C. Sahlin (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978), 141. The music which Hoffmann cites is lost. 304 Henzel, “Zwischen Hofoper und Nationaltheater,” 206. 305 “Zum erstenmales genossen wir dies Kunstwerk, denn wir hörten es deutsch, durch deutsche Künstler dargestellt und überhaupt in einer späteren, vollendeten Gestalt”; Review of Alceste by Christoph Gluck (Hofoper, Berlin), Berlinische Nachrichten, 18 October 1817. The reviewer intentionally excluded the production’s choreographer, Constant Michel Telle, in his list of “German artists” because he was Belgian. 135 Stümer as Admetus, Anna Milder as Alcestis, and Heinrich Blume, who doubled as Hercules and the High Priest of Apollo. The writer for the Vossische Zeitung echoed the Berlinische Nachrichten’s positive remarks, while also noting the opera’s turbulent history on the Berlin stage: On the festive day of the birth of the dear, much-loved Sovereign’s son, the opera Alceste was performed here for the first time in German. In earlier times, and most recently in 1804, we heard such [operas] in the large opera theater in the Italian language, according to the original score published in 1759 [sic] in Vienna. Being aware that the plot dragged occasionally, Gluck himself in 1776 reworked the opera according to a French text in Paris. Based on the latter, Mr. C. Herklots now has supplied a German translation, adjusting it to the music as well as was possible. 306 Am festlichen Tage der Geburt des theuren, allgeliebten Herrschen-Sohnes wurde die Oper Alceste zum erstenmale hier Deutsch gegeben. Früher, und zuletzt noch 1804 hörten wir solche im großen Operntheater in Italienischer Sprache nach der 1759 [sic] in Wien herausgegebenen Original-Partitur. Die hier hin und wieder statt findenden Längen der Handlung fühlend, arbeitete Gluck 1776 in Paris selbst die Oper nach Französischem Text um. Von letzterm hat Herr C. Herklots nun eine, der Musik möglichst angepaßte, deutsche Uebersetzung geliefert. Critics in the 19th century only deemed Alceste successful on the Berlin stage when the Hofoper presented the opera in German translation. On the one hand, the Prussian aristocracy continued the longstanding tradition of presenting operatic works that “reflect artistically the splendor of the court” to the bourgeois audiences that filled the stalls of the opera house. 307 On the other hand, as Dahlhaus observes, court theaters had to curve these dynastic events to appeal to bourgeois audiences—and presenting 306 Ibid. 307 Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, 44. 136 foreign operas in the vernacular was a means of doing so. 308 Furthermore, as previous discussions demonstrate, opera companies used other means to adapt Gluck’s works so that they had a wider appeal: the Berlin critic Ludwig Rellstab, for example, described the insertion of ballets as “bait” for the masses. 309 By examining the performance score (D-B Mus. ms. 7798/2) used for the 1817 production, we can see some ways in which the Hofoper adapted Alceste to please not only the royal family but also the larger bourgeois audiences. 310 Wilhelm Taubert, who was the Kapellmeister from 1845 to 1849, wrote the date “15 October 1848” on the performance score. There are, however, indications that the score comes from an earlier period. A folio of the new ballets in the second act bears the watermark of a Strasburg lily on a shield with the company name C. W. Arsand underneath. This paper mill company operated in Wolfswinkel in the Finowtal region of Brandenburg from 1764, was taken over by J. F. Nitsche in 1812 but the Arsand watermark was still in use until 1822. 311 When this particular watermark entered the company’s papers has not yet been determined. Arsand’s watermark also appears in the paper for the 1818 performance materials of Orpheus. The manuscript is a mixture of wove and laid paper in oblong format. There are thirteen staves per page, which is the same number as in the 1818 Orpheus materials. It appears as if at least two copyists worked on the score. 312 308 Ibid., 45. 309 Ludwig Rellstab, “Correspondenz. aus Berlin. (Fortsetz.) [Armide – Robinson Crusoe – Clara Wieck.] ZfdeW 49 (10 March 1837): 195-96. 310 Henzel, “Von der preussischen Nationaloper zum wahren Musikdrama,” 62-63. 311 Friese, Papierfabriken im Finowtal, 126. 312 Examples of the handwriting of copyist 1 and copyist 2 are found in Appendix A. Unusually, copyist 2 writes a short “s” before a long “s”; he also transcribed the music for the interpolated ballets in acts 2 and 3. 137 Performance markings include Rötel, blue, pink and green crayons from differing hands, and pencil marks from at least two individuals. One pencil denotes the staff line for certain instruments on the left-hand margin, cuts certain sections of music, or writes additional lines of music for instruments that double Gluck’s original orchestration. 313 These pencil markings are likely by Schneider, who conducted the opera in the 1820s and ʼ30s. Using a pen with pink ink, Taubert either inks in Schneider’s markings or crosses them out. 314 The second pencil belongs to a late 19th-century scholar, who wrote in comments about proper performance practice, often citing Berlioz as his source. 315 Judging from markings from the performance materials used for the 1818 version of Orpheus, B. A. Weber is the most likely candidate for a majority of the stage directions and tempo markings in Rötel. 316 The markings from the blue and green crayons are harder to place within a specific time period and harder to attribute to a particular conductor. Judging from the libretto, it seems that the 1817 production retained most of Gluck’s music. For later performances, unknown conductors shortened Gluck’s recitatives. In Alcestis’ recitative “Folgt nach mir in den Tempel!” from act 1, sc. 2, the blue crayon, for example, slashes her lines: Des Opfers heil’gen Ort sollen Thränen bethauen! 313 During Spontini’s directorship in Berlin, Schneider conducted most operatic performances at the Hofoper. See Meyer-Hanno, Georg Abraham Schneider, 145-58. 314 Examples of Schneider’s and Taubert’s markings are found in Appendix A. 315 Perhaps the most interesting error that Pencil 2 points out is Hercules’s aria in act 3, sc. 2, “C’est en vain” (“Ja! dem Orkus zum Trotz”), which he writes is not by Gluck but Gossec. This aria derived from Gluck’s earlier opera, Ezio. See Henzel, “Von der preussischen Nationaloper zum wahren Musikdrama,” 63. 316 Examples of Weber’s markings from Alceste (Mus. ms. 7798/2) are in Appendix A. The appendix contains Weber’s dynamic marking for “forte” in Mus. ms. 7798/2 and in Mus. ms. 7793/17. 138 Eine Gattin, die trostlos weint; Eine Mutter, mit jammernden Kindern vereint; Eines Volks Kampf mit Angst und Vertrauen. While such a cut might compromise the overall meaning of the scene or dramatic flow, Gluck’s recitatives were not altered or cut as much as Mozart’s. Aside from cutting lines here and there, opera companies kept most of Gluck’s recitatives in place and tried to fit the German text to the French vocal line, occasionally adding an eighth note to accommodate an extra syllable. 317 In Mozart’s Italian operas, for example, companies often replaced the simple recitatives with accompanied recitatives or spoken dialogue in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. 318 In terms of additional instrumentation, performance reports suggest that Weber doubled many of the woodwind and brass parts. 319 Taubert added a contrabassoon to the overture, which doubles the basses (Music Example 1.18a). In the music for the final 317 An odd cut for the 1817 performance is the repetition of the chorus “Ach! wie der kurze Traum des Lebens” (“Oh! que le songe de la vie!”) after Alcestis’ aria “Weh mir! welche Marter!” (“Ah! malgré moi”) Weber’s and Schneider’s markings cross out Alcestis’ repetition of the line “eigner Jammer, geschärft vom Euren! Ach er zerreißt mir das Herz” (“me déchire et m’arrache le cœur”). There is no indication in the score that the conductor even intended to return to the chorus (i.e. no “da capo” written at the end of the aria or marking the page of the chorus for a quick return). The text for the chorus is printed in librettos from the period, but this is due to publishers printing the libretto without regard to changes made for the stage. The elimination of this closing chorus may have been an oversight on the part of the copyist. Within the 1776 printed score for the French Alceste, there is an error in which the music at the end of Alcestis’ aria contains a repeat sign and a dal segno sign pointing the singer back to Alcestis’ line “cet effort, ce tourment extrême” and no indication to repeat the chorus “Oh! que le songe de la vie!” (Rudolf Gerber, critical commentary to Alceste (Paris), vol. 7, SW [Kassel, 1957], 443. The second act of the Swedish score used for 1781 performance also lacks the choral refrain.) The Berlin score writes out this repeat of Alcestis’ music as indicated in the first-edition score. The original 1776 Paris libretto, however, contains a repetition of the chorus, and the performance score indicates a da capo of the chorus. As it stands, Berlin performances might not have repeated this chorus. 318 Franz Giegling, critical commentary to La clemenza di Tito Kritische Berichte, series 2, vol. 20 in Neue Mozart-Ausgabe (Kassel: Barenreiter, 1994), 42. Similarly Bernhard Joseph Klein replaced the spoken dialogue with orchestral recitatives for Méhul’s Uthal (D-B Mus. ms. 14158/1). 319 See Rahel Varnhagen’s comments about the 1820 performance directed by Weber, in Rahel. Ein Buch des Andenkesn für ihre Freunde (Berlin: Dunker und Humblok, 1834), 15; reprinted in Rahel Varnhagen Gesammelte Werke, vol. 3, ed. Konrad Feilchenfeldt, Uwe Schweikert and Rahel Steiner (Munich: Matthes & Seitz, 2009). 139 chorus, Schneider penciled in music for timpani and trumpets, but Taubert wrote “senza” in the first measure—though he did ink in some of their notes at the close. A glockenspiel doubled the first violins for Apollo’s descent in act 3. As with Wagner’s music for Artemis’s entrance in Iphigenia in Aulis, 19th-century opera companies felt Gluck’s music for the deus ex machina needed something more to enhance the divine experience. When Weimar staged Alceste, the Hofoper, likely under Liszt’s direction, added a instrumental ritornello for strings, which is based on mm. 39-52 from the overture, to elongate Apollo’s descent (Music example 1.18b). 320 320 The added instrumental piece can be found in performance parts for Alceste, D-WRdn DNT 206, housed at the Franz Liszt Archives. Music Example 1.18a: Additional contrabassoon part in the overture to Alceste (1848), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7798/2 140 The largest changes to Gluck’s Alceste, for the 1817 performance, were several new ballets in the second and third acts. The Berlin performance score retained only Gluck’s second-act Passacaille in D (here transposed to G major) and third-act Andante in A major and Gavotte in the same key. The right-hand corner of the Passacaille in act 2 is dog-eared, and the page contains a large crease down the center, indicating the ballet was cut in performance. The second-act ballets come at a great moment of irony in Alceste. With their king restored to life, the people of Thessaly celebrate the selfless hero who sacrificed his or her life for Admetus’s. The people and Admetus do not know yet that it was the king’s wife, Alcestis, who offered herself for her husband. When Admetus sees his wife, Music Example 1.18b: Instrumental interlude for act 3, sc. 6 Alceste (1858) at the Hoftheater, Weimar, in D-WRdn DNT 206. Interlude based on mm. 39-52 of the Overture. 141 he exclaims “Unaussprechliches Glück!” (“O moment fortuné”), which introduces the dances. Gluck had already played up the irony of the people joyfully celebrating their queen’s own sacrifice with bright choruses and ballets in act 2, sc. 3 for Vienna and act 2, sc. 1 for Paris. 321 In this 19th-century version of Alceste, Weber’s interpolated music, not only do these ballets enhance the irony of the second act, but they also lengthen the people’s celebration of Admetus, which, in turn, represents the Prussian people’s celebration of their king and prince. The keys, tempos, and instrumentation for the act 2 and act 3 dances can be found in Table 1.4. The first dance is in F major; it follows a sonata-rondo form and has a light, homophonic texture throughout. The second dance has an expansive introduction with a thirty-second-note flourish up the D-major scale. The dance is composed as a concertante grosso for solo horn, bassoon, and violoncello. The first forty-five measures are an Andantino maestoso introduction in triple meter; the second section quickens to an Allegro ma non troppo in compound meter (6/8). The third dance opens with an octave leap down (d’-d) in the flutes and first violins over a role in the timpani and D-major chord in the bassoons, oboes, horns, violas, and basses. The Poco Maestoso opens with a playful introduction in which the orchestra alternates between fortissimo and pianissimo dynamics. The first violins bring the introduction to a close through a quick sequence of ascending thirty-second-note runs against a dominant pedal in the rest of the orchestra, ending the introduction on the dominant. After this playful moment, a light Gavotte enters in the home key of D major. The simple melody 321 As Julian Rushton notes, the ironic divertissement goes back at least to the time of Lully’s Roland (“Royal Agamemnon,” 27n). 142 in the first violins is interrupted by loud interjections in the woodwinds and brass. Schneider cut mm. 36-43 and mm. 68-88 with the indication “vi...de” and a symbol of a circle and flag. 322 The entire dance ends with a rousing coda that includes fluctuations between loud and soft dynamics. The chorus “Laßt uns ganz der Freude leben” enters to bring the dance section to a close. Ballet Number D-B Mus. ms. 7798/2 Tempos Instruments Key Act II No. 2 none written Strings, horns, bassoons, oboes, flute F major No. 3 Andante maestoso Strings, violoncello solo, horn solo, bassoon solo, oboe D major No. 4 Poco maestoso, Gavotte Léger, Un poco Allegro Strings, horns, bassoon, oboes, flute, timpani D major Act III No. 3 Un poco Adagio Strings, clarinets, clarinet solo, E-flat trumpet, bassoon, timpani B-flat major No. 4 Allegro Stings, flute, oboe, horns, trumpets in D, timpani, bassoon D major 322 Examples of Schneider’s markings in Alceste are found in Appendix A. It is worth noting that Schneider wrote the direction for three chords to sound as a cue for the dancers during the second-act ballet. Table 1.4: Ballets from act 2 and 3, Alceste (1817), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B. Mus. ms. 7798/2 143 After the final chorus in act 3, Weber substituted two new dance numbers for Gluck’s original ballets. The first new number is a concertino for clarinet in B b major. In a 6 March 1821 review of Alceste under Schneider’s direction, the writer for the Vossische Zeitung noted the beautiful solo dance of Madame Rönisch in the third act, commenting that “the solo clarinet playing in the ballet deserves honorable mention.” 323 The only markings on the score are in pencil, crossing out mm. 126-29 and adding a little doodle at the bottom of the page. 324 The second new ballet is a celebratory piece in D major with an energetic melody in the violins and loud, short exclamations in the woodwind and brass sections. Using a Rötel crayon, Weber wrote in a seven-measure passage for horn in G that reinforces the dominant harmony, leading into the final cadential section in D. 325 In reviews of the 1817 performance of Alceste under Weber’s direction, critics made little or no mention of these new ballets. The reviewer for the Vossische Zeitung wrote a single sentence at the end of a review calling the dancers “Virtuosen.” 326 In other reviews of Weber’s inserted pieces, critics often wrote that Weber composed music that fit with Gluck’s style, or they briefly condemned Weber’s music. No critic ever denounced Weber for harming Gluck’s operas with his interpolated music, as they would 323 “Rühmliche Erwähnung verdient hier noch das Solo-Clarinetienspiel im Ballet”; Review of Alceste at the Königliches Schauspiel (Berlin), Vossische Zeitung, 6 March 1821. 324 There are strong indications that these ballets were cut in later performances in the mid- to late 19th century. For one thing, pin holes dot the bottom-right corner of all three ballets in the second act, suggesting that they were stitched together. For another, in the second-act ballets, paper once covered the first page of the second ballet and the eighth and twenty-sixth pages of the third ballet. 325 Weber’s seven-measure passage is reproduced in Appendix A. 326 “Ueber die erste Vorstellung des Oper Alcestis” (Hofoper, Berlin), Vossische Zeitung 21 (October 1817). 144 later do with regard to his successor, Spontini. 327 Furthermore, one critic for the Vossische Zeitung went so far as to state that, for the performance of Alceste, the orchestra performed under Weber’s direction as if inspired by Gluck himself. 328 The Berlinische Nachrichten claimed, “Glory and honor, then, to the valiant Weber, Gluck’s admirer and disciple, who has entered so completely into the spirit of the master... .” 329 It was as if Weber and Gluck were one and the same person on the podium of the Hofoper. Even though he composed lengthy ballet numbers for the 1817 Alceste that contrasted with Gluck’s style, critics accepted, trusted, and praised Weber for his adaptation. 330 Moreover, the theater personnel thought elaborate ballets were necessary for the celebration of the prince’s birthday, especially since his father was a great admirer of the form. While there were some critics and connoisseurs who praised Weber for his adaptations of Gluck’s operas, others were dismissive of them. In a letter describing the 1820 performance of Alceste under Weber’s direction, Rahel Varnhagen complained of a “…squawking orchestra. Frightful dances, which did not at all go with the music; without sense, without understanding, without any grace, with the effort of tightrope 327 When Spontini conducted Armide in 1837, critics were outraged over an “outlandish” ballet inserted into the first act. This will be discussed in the second chapter. 328 Ibid. 329 “Preis und Ehre also: dem wackern Weber, dem Verehrer und Schüler Glucks, der so ganz in den Geist des Meisters eingedrungen ist...”; Review of Alceste by Christoph Gluck (Hofoper, Berlin) Berlinische Nachrichten 18 October 1817. 330 Thomas Bauman provides interesting insight into the issues surrounding authenticity and performance practice in his article “Requiem, but No Piece,” 19th-Century Music 15, no. 12 (Autumn 1991): 151-61. Bauman notes that it really was not until the advent of positivism in the mid-19th century that scholars began to question the authenticity of Mozart’s Requiem and distinguish Mozart’s music from that of Süßmayr’s. 145 walkers, though these dancers should not be considered as innocent as them.” 331 Using characters from the commedia dell’arte tradition, A. B. Marx characterized what type of audiences actually liked these new ballets in Alceste: Pantalon: I really wonder whether I will like the German theatre! Pierrot, what’s the title of piece they’re giving? Pierrot: Alceste, Signor, as I believe I read on the playbill. Pantalon: Is it comic? Pierrot: O yes, I think, pretty much so. Pantalon: Who is dancing in it? Pierre. Madam D-s., Herr H-t. Mlle R-h., Mlle V-s. and various others. Pantalon: Who is the dance music by? Pierrot: By different masters. A certain Gluck had also composed some among them. Pantalon: Gluck? From Naples to Milan, I have not yet heard an opera by him. Probably a young man. But all the better when the music is by different [people]. Because one has variety. ... 332 “Pantalon. Soll mich doch verwundern, wie mir das deutsche Theater gefallen wird! Pierrot, wie heisst das Stück, was man giebt? Pierrot. Alceste, Signor, wie ich auf dem Zettel zu lesen geglaubt. Pantalaon. Ist’s lustig? Pierrot. O ja, ich denke, so ziemlich. Pantalon. Wer tanzt darin? Pierrot. Madam D-s., Herr H- t. Mlle R-h., Mlle V-s. und noch verschiedene andere. Pantalon Von wem ist die Tanzmusik? Pierrot. Von verschiedenen Meistern. Einiges darunter hat auch ein gewisser Gluck komponirt. Pantalon. Gluck? Von dem habe ich von Neapel bis Mailand noch keine Oper gehört. Vermuthlich ein junger Mann. Doch desto besser, wenn die Musik von Verschiedenen ist. Da hat man Abwechslung....” 331 “Kreischendes Orchester. Fürchterliche Tanzerkunst, wo die Tänze nicht einmal zu der Musik gehen wollen; ohne Sinn, ohne Verstand, ohne Grazie, mit Seiltänzer-Mühe, ohne sie wie diese Tänzer unschuldig uns anzurechnen”; Letter to an unknown recipient Sunday 19 February 1820 from Rahel Varnhagen reprinted in Rahel, 15. 332 “Die Karnevals Abentheuer, oder Pantalon nebst den Seinigen in Deutschland. Ein Drama nach dem Leben in mehren Scenen. Von dem Verfasser verschiedener unbekannter Werke,” BamZ 1, no. 6 (11 February 1824): 48. 146 Marx and others among Berlin’s musical connoisseurs believed that the opera personnel inserted these ballets to provide a moment of pleasure for the less educated in this serious work. In addition to adding new ballets to older works, many French and Italian composers were composing extensive ballet numbers in their operas. In 1814, King Frederick William III heard Spontini’s Fernand Cortez ou La conquête du Mexique in Paris and immediately had it mounted in Berlin. 333 Hoffmann, like other critics, found that Spontini’s operas followed “in Gluck’s footsteps, except that his orchestration is much richer, often too rich, and his harmonic structure too contrived, particularly in its modulations.” 334 While critics noticed the similarities between the style and structure of Spontini’s and Gluck’s operas, Spontini filled his operatic works with spectacular effects for audiences. Hoffmann’s criticism of Spontini was that, in order to appeal to mass audiences, the composer relied on un-sonorous noise, which is sadly to be found in so much modern music, [and which] had its starting point [in Paris]! The rasp of trombones, dull thuds from the bass drum, incessant squeaking of the piccolo, and above all dances, dances, and more dances! What more is needed to coax [audiences] into believing? And they really do believe! 335 333 David D. Charlton, introduction to E.T.A. Hoffmann’s Musical Writings: “Kreisleriana,” “The Poet and the Composer,” Music Criticism, trans. Martyn Clarke (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 421. It should be noted that Cortez was initially intended as a propaganda piece for Napoleon’s campaign in Spain. See, Anselm Gerhard, "Fernand Cortez, ou La conquête du Mexique," in The New Grove Dictionary of Opera, ed. Stanley Sadie, Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.libproxy.usc.edu/subscriber/article/grove/music/O007192 (accessed February 12, 2012). 334 Hoffmann, “Letters on Music in Berlin. First Letter,” in Hoffmann’s Musical Writings, 392. 335 Ibid., 396. 147 Opera companies were likely worried that Gluck’s original dance pieces would not please 19th-century audience as Spontini’s could. Hence, Weber replaced the ballets in Alceste to align the opera more closely to Spontini’s Cortez and other Romantic operas. Set Designs for Alceste 1817 Schinkel’s new set designs for the production were a mixture of dynastic and neoclassical imagery. The anonymous reviewer for the ZfdeW described Schinkel’s design for the entrance to the underworld in act 3 as “probably a copy of any exquisite landscape painting... according to the highest demands of art and perfectly in balance with the effect of sounds.” 336 Yet the same reviewer criticized his Temple of Apollo in act 1 (Figure 1.2a) for looking like a Indian temple and wrote that the portrait of the god made an “embarrassing impression” (peinlichen Eindruck) instead of a pleasant one. 337 Despite the mixed review, Schinkel’s recreation of a Greek temple on the stage of the Hofoper played into the Hohenzollerns’ and Berliners’ image of themselves as the inheritors of antiquity. As James Sheehan notes, Schinkel’s neoclassical architecture captured “the affirmation of state power in the capital’s new civic spaces” and affirmed the Hohenzollerns’ right to rule over Prussia and later Germany. 338 Harten points out that the perspective and gesture of Apollo mimic the 1797 interior designs by Schinkel’s 336 “...wahrscheinlich die Kopie irgendeines vorzüglichen Landschaftsgemäldes... den höchsten Forderungen der Kunst entsprechend und vollkommen im Gleichgewicht mit der Wirkung der Töne”; “Aus Berlin: Ueber die Vorstellung der Oper Alceste von Gluck, am 15 Oktober,” ZfdeW (24 Oktober 1817): 1679. A reproduction of Schinkel’s act 3 set design is reprinted in Harten, Die Bühnenentwurfe, 247. 337 Ibid. 338 James Sheehan, German History 1770-1866 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), 528-29. 148 teacher, Friedrich Gilly, for the planned (though never realized) neoclassical monument to Frederick the Great (Figure 1.2b). 339 339 Harten, Die Bühnenentwurfe, 247. For further discussion of the image and symbolism of the “Temple” in 19th-century aesthetic theory and Schinkel’s architectural designs, see Ziolkowski, German Romanticism and Its Institutions, 309-29 and 372-77. Figure 1.2a: Karl Schinkel’s design for Apollo’s Temple, act 1, sc. 3-7, Alceste (1817), at the Hofoper, Berlin 149 1842: Centennial Celebration of the Hofoper While the 1817 dynastic event for Prince Frederick William IV’s birthday evoked Prussia’s glorious history, particularly the time of Frederick the Great, they also institutionalized a misremembered history. In 1842, Taubert staged Gluck’s Iphigenia in Tauris as part of the centennial celebration of the opening of the Hofoper. Carl Heinrich Graun’s Cesare e Cleopatra opened the Königlichen Hofoper in 1742. Under the orders of General Director K. M. von Künster, Taubert and violinist C. W. Henning examined Graun’s opera to see if they could extract sections of the opera for the centenary celebration: In response to the assignment to choose scenes from Graun’s opera Cleopatra that would be suitable for the performance on December 7, we report as follows: The entire opera consists almost exclusively of single arias that follow one right after another. There are no ensembles and finales. The arias themselves have absolutely no dramatic character, but resemble each other due to Figure 1.2b: Friedrich Gilly’s design for the Frederick the Great Monument 150 the fashion of that time, which today is being avoided as old- fashioned. For last year’s celebration of the laying of the foundation stone of the opera house, one had chosen from this opera a chorus from the first act and a duet from the third act. While these musical pieces already elicited a smile back then, it was the historical interest, which had been the criterion of the repertory selections, that predominated. As regards the festivities on December 7, in the interest of the General Directorship, we cannot refrain from expressing doubt regarding the success that some consecutive arias of the effect described above will have, since they can only have a comic effect considering the decidedly modernist tendencies of the majority of the audience. Therefore, we leave it to the General Directorship to decide whether for the celebration of this day, which in terms of history is represented by a Festspiel and in terms of the arts by an opera by Gluck, an intermezzo of such scenes would not weaken the overall impression rather than enhance it. The overture of Graun’s opera preceding the Festspiel seems essentially enough for us to express the intention of commemorating the centenary of the inauguration, just as it grants a sufficient sample of the musical pieces of its time through its peculiar old construction and course of ideas. 340 Auf den uns zuertheilten Auftrag, aus der Graunschen Oper Cleopatra Scenen zu wählen, die sich zur Darstellung am 7ten December eignen möchten, berichten wir Folgendes. Die ganze Oper besteht fast nur aus einzelnen Arien, deren eine stets der andern folgt. Ensembles und Finales sind nicht darin. Die Arien selbst haben durchaus keinen dramatischen Character, sondern sehen sich sämtlich durch den für heut mehr als veraltet zu vermeiden Zuschnitt der damaligen Mode ähnlich. Bei der vorjährigen Feier der Grundsteinlegung des Opernhauses hatte man aus dieser Oper einen Chor aus dem ersten, und ein Duett aus dem dritten Ackt gewählt. Wenn diese Musikstücke damals schon ein Lächeln erregten, so war doch das historische Interesse, auf das die ganze Zusammenstellung des Repertoirs berechnet war, vorherrschend daran. Wir können jedoch für die Feier des 7ten December im Interesse der Generalintendantur nicht unterlassen, den Zweifel auszusprechen, über den Erfolg, den einige auf einander folgende Arien oben angedeuteter Geltung, die bei der 340 Wilhelm Taubert and C. W. Henning, Berlin, to the Generalintendantur (Karl Theodor Küstner), 30 November 1842, transcript in unknown hand, signed by Taubert and Henning, in Personal und Angelegenheiten der Königlichen Schauspiel (I. HA. Rep. 89 Nr. 21105 1841-1842) in Das Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preußischer Kulturbesitz. 151 entschieden modernen Richtung des größten Publikums nur von komischer Wirkung sein können, haben werden, und stellen es somit der Generalintendantur anheim, zu erwägen, ob für die Feier des Tages, die in Bezug auf die Historie durch ein Festspiel, in Bezug auf die Kunst durch eine Glucksche Oper würdig vertreten ist, ein Intermezzo solcher Scene muß eher den Eindruck schwächend als fördernd sein möchte. Die Ouvertüre der Graunschen Oper, dem Festspiel vorangehend, scheint uns fast genügend, die Intention der Erinnerung an die hundertjährige Einweihung zu bezeichnen, so wie sie auch durch ihren eigenthümlichen alten Bau und Ideengang eine hinreichende Probe der damaligen Musikstücke gewährt. The initial request and response from the General Director are lost, but it seems as if the theater administration followed Taubert’s advice not to perform any scenes from Cleopatra, but only the overture of the opera was performed on 7 December 1842, followed by a performance of a Festspiel, by Rellstab and Taubert, and Iphigenia in Tauris. Taubert felt that even selections from Graun’s opera seria would evoke laughter from Berliners, thereby undercutting the necessary dignity of the day’s celebration. According to a review from the Berlinische Nachrichten, even Graun’s overture failed to impress the audience: The festivities ordered by the General Directorship on the occasion of the secular celebration of the opening of the Royal Opera House on December 7 of this year were opened by the overture to the opera Cleopatra by Graun, with which the Italian opera performances had begun in 1742 in this space which the grace of the great King consecrated as a seat of the muses. — However, considering the strictness of the work’s compositional style, Gluck’s marvelous overture to Iphigenia in Aulis would have created a much warmer effect and have contrasted less with the following modern music of the ensuing Festspiel, suitably composed by Taubert on L. Rellstab’s poetry. 341 341 Review of the overture to Cleopatra by Carl Graun and Iphigenia in Tauris by Christoph Gluck (Hofoper, Berlin), Berlinische Nachrichten, 9 December 1842. 152 Die zur Säcular-Feier der Einweihung des kgl. Opernhauses am 7. Dezember d. J. von der k. General-Intendantur angeordnete Festlichkeit wurde durch die Ouvertüre zur Oper Cleopatra, von Graun, eröffnet, mit welcher die italiänischen Opern-Vorstellungen 1742 in diesen Räumen, die des großen Königs Huld zum Musensitzen weihete, begonnen hatten. – Bei der vorwaltenden Form des strengen Stils der Composition würde indeß Gluck’s prachtvolle Ouvertüre zur Iphigenia in Aulis einen mehr erwärmenden Eindruck bewirkt, und weniger mit der sich anschließenden modernen Musik des, von L Rellstab gedichteten und von Taubert angemessen componirten Festspiels contrastirt haben.” Apparently, with the decision to exclude vocal selections from Cleopatra, Taubert avoided any further embarrassment for the Hofoper. The critic’s suggestion to perform the overture to Iphigenia in Aulis indicates that critics and audiences did not hear Gluck’s music as belonging to a distant past but as a close antecedent to the prevailing musical style of the 19th century. By replacing Cleopatra with Iphigénie, Taubert in effect manipulated the audience’s memory of the performance and reception history of Gluck’s operas in 18th- century Berlin—according the Reichardt, Frederick the Great used “Schimpfworten” when discussing Gluck’s operas. 342 Even when Frederick William II came to power in 1786, Frederick the Great’s influence shadowed Prussia’s cultural scene, and Gluck’s operas were relegated to smaller theaters. According to Reichardt’s review of Armide, it was not until around the 1790s that Berliners accepted and admired Gluck’s operas. 343 For the 1842 performance of Iphigenia in Tauris, however, the Hofoper personnel presented an alternate history of Gluck’s reception in Berlin, which was aided by 342 Johann Friedrich Reichardt, “Bruchstücke aus seiner Autobiographie,” AmZ 15 no. 37 (15 September 1813): 612. 343 Johann Friedrich Reichardt, “Etwas über Gluck und dessen Armide,” Berlinische musikalische Zeitung 1, no. 28 (1805): 109-12. 153 Rellstab’s and Taubert’s preceding Festspiel. Rellstab’s libretto and Taubert’s music for the Festspiel present personifications of architecture, painting, music, and history, who express their praises to Frederick the Great in front of a temple bearing a bust of the ruler. 344 The temple opens to reveal various scenes from the monarch’s life: first, a scene mimicking Christian Bernhard Rode’s painting “Frederick the Great by the campfire, before the battle of Torgue,” accompanied by a flute melody (an allusion to the King’s flute playing); second, a battle scene in which generals surround the injured king, who is holding the Prussian flag, while cannons are fired and trumpets and drums are played in the distance; third, parting clouds reveal a statue of Frederick on his horse with Sanssouci in the background. The Festspiel ends with the character Music singing that “Sie tragen unsern Dank zu Deinen Füßen!” 345 This grand image of Frederick the Great and his palace gave way then to the opera Iphigenia in Tauris. In essence, Frederick the Great shared the stage with the one composer he least admired: Gluck. 346 344 Ludwig Rellstab, “Festspiel zur hundertjährigen Feier der Einweihung des Opernhauses am 7ten Dezember 1842,” music by Wilhelm Taubert (Berlin: Buchhandlung des Berliner Lese-Kabinets, 1842). Music and libretto found under signature D-B Nachl. Taubert 84 at the SBB. 345 For a discussion of the political overtones of Rellstab’s Festspiel, see Hans Lange, Vom Tribunal zum Tempel: zur Architektur und Geschichte Deutscher Hoftheater zwischen Vormärz und Restauration (Marburg: Jonas Verlag, 1985), 115-18 346 Luise Mühlbach, in her historical novel Johann Gotzkowsky der Kaufmann von Berlin of 1850 (translated by Amory Coffin as The Merchant of Berlin [New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1867]), makes the claim that Frederick the Great designed the opera house so that he could enjoy the “magic strains of Gluck” with his few chosen generals and friends (75). As for the changing image of Frederick the Great in the 19th century, see Peterson, History, Fiction, and Germany, 119-39. The entire celebration evokes Adorno’s concept of “kitsch,” which Richard Leppert defines as invoking “a past that is nostalgically misremembered; as such, kitsch is a means by which to forget––but less to forget the past than the present.” Richard Leppert’s commentary in Theodor W. Adorno, Essays on Music, selected with introduction, commentary, and notes by Richard Leppert, trans. S. H. Gillespie (Berkeley: University of California Press), 361. 154 In 1843, the Hofoper caught fire, which closed the theater for two years as it underwent much-needed repairs and improvements. 347 At this point, Meyerbeer replaced Spontini as the General Music Director and was commissioned to compose Der Feldlager in Schlesien for the reopening of the opera house in 1845. The plot of the opera centers around Frederick the Great’s military campaign in Silesia during the Seven Years’ War. Meyerbeer wanted Eugène Scribe to write the libretto, but the administration felt it was improper to have a Frenchman involved in such a Germanic civic event, especially since the plot revolved around Frederick the Great. 348 Therefore, Meyerbeer secretly arranged for Scribe to write the libretto, and Rellstab would translate and receive credit for it. 349 Meyerbeer wrote in his diaries that the General Administrator of Court Music, Count Friedrich Wilhelm Redner, “must know nothing of Scribe.” 350 From the administration’s standpoint, everyone involved with the project had to be German. Reviewing Gluck’s operas performed at similar events, such nationalistic standards collapse. Gluck worked with very few German poets and librettists and only produced operas in Italian and French. 351 Gluck composed Iphigénie en Tauride for the Paris stage with a French librettist, but the Hofoper ignored this fact when they decided to 347 Lange, Vom Tribunal zum Tempel, 118-23. 348 Robert Ignatius Letellier, Operas of Giacomo Meyerbeer (Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2006), 164-73 provides an overview of the compositional history of the composer’s Der Feldlager in Schlesien. 349 This agreement may not have been so secretive at the time; Wagner would allude to it in his 1867 autobiography, My Life, 270. 350 Giacomo Meyerbeer, The Diaries of Giacomo Meyerbeer, vol. 2: The Prussian Years and “Le Prophète,” ed. and trans. Robert Ignatius Letellier (Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2001), 82. 351 His direct contribution to the German repertoire comes from his setting of Friedrich Gottfried Klopstock’s poetry and his work with Johann Baptist Edler von Alxinger in the translation of Iphigenia auf Tauris for the 1781 production in Vienna. Though Gluck revived his opera for the production in German, this version was rarely used in the 19th century; opera houses preferred J. D. Sander’s translation instead. 155 use his opera for the centennial anniversary of the opera house. It appears that, with the steady performances of his operas in translation on the Berlin stage, critics, audiences, bureaucrats and musicians accepted Gluck and his music as Germanic in origin and nature. 1848: Alceste and the Counter-Revolution Not only did these dynastic events celebrate the royal family, but they also played a role in restoring peace and order after the unrest of the 1848 riots. In 1848, the Hofoper provided a performance of Gluck’s Alceste on 15 October for the king’s birthday celebration and another on 29 November for the silver wedding anniversary of the royal couple. To a certain degree, when the royal opera staged Alceste in the Fall of 1848, it was a political act by the king’s supporters to help erase the progress made toward democratic reform in March. At this point in the 1848 Revolution, there was a constant struggle between King Frederick William IV and the Prussian National Assembly about the drafting of a constitution. One of the many points of contention in the constitutional debates was the king’s right to rule by divine authority. By September 1848, the king put into place the steps he would take to stage a coup––all he needed was for the parliament to give him an excuse to call in the military and declare martial law. In this very tense situation, the king celebrated his birthday on October 16th in Potsdam. For the king’s birthday celebration, the Hofoper staged Gluck’s Alceste and the royal playhouse staged Kleist’s Prince Frederick von Homburg. At the performance of Alceste, the actor Hermann Hendrichs (1809-1871) read a poem, written by someone in the opera’s administration, which reinterpreted the myth of Alcestis as an allegory for 156 Prussia’s current situation. Alcestis’ descent into the “abyss” for her husband mirrors Prussia’s fall into civil unrest, which the poet likens to the “Cerberus of Anarchy.” 352 “Hercules of Freedom” rescues Alcestis by destroying the monster and closing the door to Erebus. Alcestis is now reborn, and “the gift of the sovereign is justice.” With the restoration of the sovereign, the people’s welfare grows “as fruit only ripens on the tree of justice.” 353 The poem ends with a utopian vision of Germany’s future: I see Germany great and free and strong / and united throughout the heart of its citizens; / I see Prussia, ungrudging, unenvied,/ which is worthy of, carrying Germany’s flag, / glorious and bold, in the storm of danger / and a million voices strong, near and far / from the coast of the Ostsee to the beautiful Rhein / I hear the cry of jubilation climbing toward heaven, / which today prophetically greets this day: / to the free king of a free people! 354 Ich sehe Deutschland groß und frei und stark, / und einig doch durch seiner Bürger Herz; / ich sehe Preußen, neidlos, unbeneidet, / das ihm gebührt, / das Banner Deutschlands tragen, / glorreich und kühn, im Wetter der Gefahr/ und millionenstimmig, nah und fern, / vom Strand der Ostsee bis zum schönen Rhein, / den Jubelruf gen Himmel hör ich steigen, / der heut prophetisch diesen Tag begrüßt: / Dem freien König eines freien Volks! King Frederick William IV was in Potsdam, tied up with the affairs of the state, and did not attend the performance. When the Hofoper restaged Alceste on 29 November, the social and political situation in Berlin had changed. On 9 November, Calvary General von Wrangel had entered Berlin with 13,000 troops, declared martial law, and staged a coup against the 352 “Rede zur Feier des Gebursfestes Sr. Majestät des Königs im Königl. Opernhaus, gesprochen von Herrn Heindrichs,” was reprinted in the Vossische Zeitung on 18 October 1848, reprinted in Lothar Schirmer and Paul S. Ulrich, Das Jahr 1848: Kultur in Berlin im Spiegel der “Vossische Zeitung” in zwei Teilbänden, vol. 2 (Berlin: Gesellschaft für Theatergeschichte e. V., 2008), 427-28. Schirmer and Ulrich reprinted Rellstab’s review of Alceste from 17 October 1848 on page 424. 353 “Als Frucht nur reift an des Gesetzes Baum”; ibid. 354 Ibid., 428. 157 new constitutional government. As General Wrangel and his troops sat at the foot of the Schauspielhaus, the king rewrote the constitution and reneged on many of his earlier reforms. 355 While the military occupation of Berlin dismayed the leading progressives of the 1848 uprising, it was a relief for the conservative members of the city’s bourgeoisie, and also for shopkeepers, whose properties had been severally damaged during the riots. 356 The writer Fanny Lewald wrote in her journal on November 18th that “The ladies are beginning to go to the boutiques again with their liveried footmen to buy articles of clothing and to arm themselves for the salons, which had been closed during the days of democracy.” 357 Within this historical context, the November 1848 performance of Alceste was not only a celebration of the royal family’s silver wedding anniversary, but also a celebration of the return to peace and order. 358 In a letter to the king’s confidant, Emil Ernst Illaire, on 24 October 1848, Küstner expressed his desire to present either Iphigenia in Tauris or Alceste for the celebration: “For the holiday, rich relationships may be found in Gluck’s Alceste, in which conjugal love is glorified, or Iphigenia in Tauris, which is likewise a 355 James Sheehan, German History 1770-1866, 704-5. 356 Blackbourn, The Long Nineteenth Century, 156. For further historiographical writing about Germany’s bourgeoisie in the 19th century, see David Blackbourn and Geoff Eley, The Peculiarities of German History: Bourgeois Society and Politics in Nineteenth-Century Germany (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1984) and David Blackbourn and Richard J. Evans, ed. The German Bourgeoisie: Essays on the Social History of the German Middle Class from the Late Eighteenth to the Early Twentieth Century (London and New York: Routeledge, 1991). 357 Fanny Lewald, A Year of Revolutions: Fanny Lewald’s Recollections of 1848, trans. and ed. Hanna Ballin Lewis (Providence and Oxford: Berghahan Books, 1997), 149. 358 Further discussion of opera’s role in these festival occasions and promoting a sense of civility, especially in counterpoint to the grotesque displays of the carnival season, can be found in Martha Feldman, Opera and Sovereignty: Transforming Myths in Eighteenth-Century Opera (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007), 141-87. 158 model of womanly virtue.” 359 A month later, Künster wrote to Illaire that such a festival would, he hoped, demonstrate a return to order and garner sympathy for the king: Since my last letter on the birthday celebrations, circumstances seem to have improved, as a greater degree of rationality seems to have taken over people’s minds again, and thus one may indulge the hope to see peace and order return. In such a state of affairs, I truly believe I may hope for a revival of the intention for a celebration as major as the upcoming silver wedding anniversary of Their Royal Majesties, and thus I consider it my noble duty to contribute to the fostering and preservation of these sympathies. Thus it is my intention on the 29th of this month, the day of the celebration, to perform Alceste by Gluck with an allegorical finale with music by Gluck... . 360 Seit meinem letzten Schreiben, die Geburtstagsfeier betreffend, haben sich scheinbar die Verhältnisse günstiger gestaltet, denn ein größeres Maaß von Besonnenheit scheint sich der Gemüther der Menschen wieder bemächtigen zu wollen, so daß man sich wohl der Hoffnung hingeben kann, Ruhe und Ordnung wieder zurückkehren zu sehen. Daß in einem solchen Zustande der Dinge auch der Sinn für ein so hohes Fest, wie das bevorstehende der silbernen Hochzeit Ihrer Majestäten, sich neu beleben wird, glaube ich zuverlässig hoffen zu können, und es erscheint daher gewissermaßen als eine theure Pflicht dazu beizutragen, diese Sympatieen zu fördern und zu erhalten. Es liegt daher in meiner Absicht, am 29sten d. Mts. , als dem Tage der Feier, die Oper : „Alceste“, von Gluck mit einem allegorischem Schluße mit Musik von Gluck zu geben... .” The celebration deliberately and purposefully propagandized the rightful rule of the king and a return to the status quo. 359 “In Gluck’s “Alceste,” worin die Gattenliebe verherrlicht, oder in der “Iphigenia in Tauris,” die gleichfalls als ein Muster hoher Frauentugend darstellt, dürften für den Festtag die reichsten Beziehungen zu finden sein”; Karl Theodor Küstner, Berlin, to Emil Ernst Illaire, Berlin 24 October 1848, copied in an unknown hand, signed by Küstner, in Personal und Angelegenheiten der Königlichen Schauspiel (I. HA. Rep. 89 Nr. 21111 1848-1849) in Das Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preußischer Kulturbesitz. 360 Karl Theodor Küstner, Berlin, to Emil Ernst Illaire, Berlin 24 November 1848, copied in an unknown hand, signed by Küstner, in ibid. 159 The allegorical finale Künster wrote about was a ballet based on music by Gluck but arranged and reorchestrated by Taubert. The announcement for the opera in the Berlinische Nachrichten cites Michel-François Hoguet as the choreographer for the ballet. Taubert scored the piece for strings, flutes, oboes, clarinets in A, bassoons, horns in A and D, trumpets in E, trombones, timpani, triangle and bass drum. 361 Taubert opens the piece with a mysterious twenty-measure introduction, as the timpani rolls on E, which acts as a pedal point throughout the introduction, and the first violins introduce a G# in the second measure, pointing to A minor. The music moves quickly away from A minor into the brighter key of E major, and the introduction ends with a rousing dominant chord on E. Taubert based the first section of the music on the Légèrement dance from the second act of Alceste, now entitled Ballo vivace. Whereas Gluck’s orchestration for the dance numbers included only strings and woodwinds, Taubert added brass to bolster the harmonies and a triangle to accent the strong beats. The second dance was Gluck’s Andante grazioso from act 3, which was originally scored for a solo flute and strings. In Taubert’s arrangement, a soft roll in the timpani and sustained chords in the bassoons and clarinets accompany Gluck’s original orchestration. In m. 110, Taubert passes the flute’s melody to the oboe and cellos and then back to the flute and first violins (Music Example 1.19). Taubert’s pairing of instruments is likely a sonic description of the royal couple, singing a duet together. The Ballo vivace (Légèrment) returns in the key of A major, with an added four-measure fanfare to announce the imminent finale. The brass and woodwinds now double the main melody of the first violins in the first seven measures. 361 D-B Mus. ms. 7798/20 at SBB. 160 Judging from the manuscript, Taubert cut the next thirty-four measures, which repeated the first section, and jumped straight to the last eleven measures. The coda contains a fanfare in the woodwinds and brass as the strings run up and down an A-major triad, bringing the work to a stirring close. Music Example 1.19: Ballet, mm.110-12, for the Silver Wedding Anniversary Celebration, performed after Alceste (1848), at the Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7798/20 161 According to the review by Rellstab, Alceste and Taubert’s ballet struck the right tone to celebrate the wedding anniversary of the royal couple: A more noble artwork and one more suitable with regard to its poetic content than Gluck’s Alceste could not have been chosen for the celebration of the silver wedding anniversary of Their Majesties the King and Queen. A myth which so beautifully glorifies marital love, devotion, and sacrifice, and which has found its musical transfiguration in Gluck’s immortal sounds, is indisputably the one within the entire realm of musical-dramatic production which bears the most intimate relationship to the emotions this day could not help but stir. 362 Ein edleres Kunstwerk, und ein in seiner dichterischen Beziehung geeigneteres, als Gluck’s Alceste, konnte zur Feier des silbernen Hochzeitsfestes JJ. MM. des Königs und der Königin nicht ausgewählt werden. Ein Mythos, welcher die eheliche Liebe, Treue, und Aufopferung so schön verherrlicht, und der in Gluck’s unsterblichen Tönen seine musikalische Verklärung gefunden hat, ist in dem ganzen weiten Reich der musikalisch-dramatischen Erzeugnisse, unstreitig dasjenige, was in der innigsten Verwandtschaft zu den Empfindungen steht, die der Tag wecken mußte. At one point, Rellstab remarked that the audience, mostly made up of the military, were completely swept up into the performance: The interest which was increased by the event filled the audience as much with life as the performers. This became evident already during the performance when the words of the Priest, “Her King and her Friend!” were greeted with loud applause. 363 362 Ludwig Rellstab, Review of Alceste (Hofoper, Berlin) Vossische Zeitung 1 December 1848, reprinted in Schirmer and Ulrich, Das Jahr 1848, 486. 363 Ibid. The order to provide tickets to the military can be found in Karl Theodor Küstner, Berlin, to unknown, Berlin, 11 January 1848, copied in an unknown hand, signed by Küstner, in Personal und Angelegenheiten der Königlichen Schauspiel (I. HA. Rep. 89 Nr. 21111 1848-1849) in Das Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preußischer Kulturbesitz. In a letter to Illair, Wrangler, according to Küstner, said he wanted 500 tickets for his troops, but Küstner replied that he wanted to provide him with 250 tickets for the week of 29 November and 250 tickets for the following week. It seems he did not want “the theater to appear over-filled with the military on one day.” There appears to be no response from Illair or any other member of the court. 162 ... durch das Ereigniß erhöhte Theilnahme... lebte eben so in den Hörern, wie in den Darstellern. Sie gab sich schon während der Vorstellung kund, wo die Worte des Priesters: “Ihr König und ihr Freund!” mit lautem Beifall begrüßt wurden. This loud applause occurred at act 1, sc. 3 at the end of the High Priest’s recitative, which begins “Du der auf glanzumstrahltem Wagen” and ends with the lines: “In him the highest is united, which a gracious god can give to a good people: Her king, her father, her friend.” 364 The military fully supported the king during the Revolution, and their enthusiastic response to the Priest’s line hints at their desire to see the king restored as the unquestionable ruler of the Prussian people through divine authority. In Rellstab’s review, we also have an eyewitness account of Hoguet’s choreography for the closing ballet and the audience’s reaction: This sentiment came into full effect, however, at the end of the opera, which had received an allegorical addition for the celebration of the day. The transition to the addition was one composed of lesser-known ballet pieces for Alceste, arranged and orchestrated by Kapellmeister Taubert. Maidens performed a dance with silver garlands, which expressed the meaning of the day. When the clouds in the background had parted, a large-scale allegorical painting came into view, for which the decorations from the final scene of Ein Feldlager in Schlesien were used, which depict a triumphal arch whose architectonic fields were decorated with living paintings and through whose openings Sanssouci Castle could be seen. Above the central portico, the names of the royal couple radiated in Brillantschrift. In the tympanum and sides, allegorical forms and groups were to be seen: the genii of Prussia, Germany, and Peace, and other pictorial representations, which in the few moments granted for beholding them could only be grasped as part of the beautiful ensemble but hardly be taken in consciously in detail. — A stormy expression which could derive only from the innermost sympathy filled the building, and the 364 “In ihm ist das Höchste vereint, / was ein huldreicher Gott kann guten Völkern geben: / Ihr König, ihr Vater, ihr Freund!”; Nicolas François Guillard, Alceste: Große Oper in 3 Acten, trans. C. Herklot (Berlin, n.d.), 6. 163 folksong “Heil Dir im Siegerkranz!” resounded from a universal chorus. So universal, so devoted was the expression of conviction that we may gladly welcome it as a certain and highly significant testimony to the solid, intimate, and continuous bond between our royal family and the people, which, we hope, will not be torn by the solution to the great questions of our time, but will rather gain new nourishment and strength for the good of the fatherland and the flourishing of true freedom. 365 Zur vollen Geltung aber kam diese Stimmung am Schluß der Oper, der zur Feier des Tages einen allegorischen Zusatz erhalten hatte. Den Uebergang zu demselben bildete ein aus den minder bekannten Balletstücken zur Alceste zusammengesetztes, durch Hrn. Kapellmeister Taubert eingerichtetes und instrumentirtes Ballet, in dem Jungfrauen mit silbernen Kränzen einen Tanz ausführten, der die Bedeutung des Tages schon bezeichnete. Als sich darauf der Wolken-Hintergrund getheilt hatte, erblickte man ein großes allegorisches Gemälde, zu dem die Schlußdekoration aus dem Feldlager in Schlesien benutzt war, welche einen Triumphbogen darstellt, dessen architektonische Felder mit lebenden Bildern geschmückt sind, und durch dessen offene Räume man das Schloß Sanssouci erblickt. Ueber dem mittleren Porticus strahlten in Brillantschrift die Namenszüge des Königlichen Paares. In den Giebel-und Seitenfeldern sah man allegorische Gestalten und Gruppen, die Genien Prußens, Deutschlands, des Friedens, und andere bildliche Darstellungen, die in den wenigen Augenblicken, welche der Betrachtung, vergönnt waren, nur im schönen Gesammt-Eindruck aufgefaßt, im Einzelnen kaum zur bewußten Anschauung gebracht werden konnten. – Ein stürmischer Ausdruck, wie er nur aus der innersten Theilnahme hervorzugehen vermochte, erfüllte das Haus , und in allgemeinem Chorgesange erschallte das Volkslied “Heil Dir in Siegerkranz!” Die Gesinnung that sich so allgemein, so hingegeben kund, daß wir sie mit Freuden als ein sicheres, hochbedeutungsvolles Zeugniß begrüßen dürfen, welch ein festes inniges Band zwischen unserm Königshause und dem Volk fort und fort besteht, das, so hoffen wir, durch die Lösung der großen 365 Schirmer and Ulrich, Das Jahr 1848, 486-87. Writing to Meyerbeer in Paris, Wilhelm Beer, heard that there was also “Towel-Swinging” (Tücher-Schwingen) during the singing of “Heil Dir im Siegerkranz.” Beer was not at the performance but heard about this second hand. The letter is reprinted in Giacomo Meyerbeer: Briefwechsel und Tagebücher, ed. Heinz Becker and Gudrun Becker, vol. 4, 1846-1849 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter & Co, 1975), 436. Though Meyerbeer was not present for the 1848 celebrations, he did compose a piece for the occasion, entitled Festhymne zur 25jährigen Vermählungsfeier Ihrer Majestäten des König und der Königin von Preußen (poetry by Karl Winkler). 164 Zeitfragen nicht zerrissen werden, sondern zum Heile des Vaterlandes, zum Gedeihen der wahren Freiheit, neue Kräftigung und Erstarkung gewinnen soll. The performances of Alceste in 1848 show us how easy it is to manipulate the meaning and character of Gluck’s operas in order to meet certain political or cultural agendas. Despite all the spectacle and praise for the royal family at this event, the king was tied up with the rewriting of the constitution and did not attend the performance and would not appear at the opera house until March of 1849. Yet, the celebration of the silver wedding anniversary was a culmination point in the counter-revolutionary movement, as vestiges of the Revolution all but disappeared from Berlin. Six days after the celebration, on 5 December, King Frederick William IV dissolved the parliament and imposed his constitution, which asserted, among other things, his divine authority. Running parallel to these royal festivals in the Biedermeier period were music festivals that celebrated music itself or that surrounded the unveiling of statues, not of the nobility, but of the great German cultural heroes, such as Schiller, Gutenberg, and Beethoven. James Garratt points out that Frederick William III refused permission for such festivities and monument displays, since they “appropriated the symbolism and rituals of royal ceremonies, installing commoners as the people’s authentic representatives and consigning kings to the margins... .” 366 Furthermore, these events gave the broader middle class a forum to criticize the political situation and share their vision for a new political order. 367 At the Lower Rhine Music Festival in 1841, an 366 James Garratt, Music, Culture and Social Reform in the Age of Wagner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 91. 367 Ibid. 165 orchestra of 182 musicians performed the overture to Gluck’s Iphigenia in Aulis to begin the festivities: “Gluck’s grainy, powerful German overture, performed with precision and fire by this giant orchestra, began the German Festival honorably and filled the expansive space of the old Gürzenich [Festsaal] with its simple and yet so powerful melodies.” 368 During the festival, audiences would hear Bernhard Klein’s David, Cherubini’s Mass in C Major, Handel’s “O be joyful in the Lord” (Psalm 100), and Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Here Gluck’s music no longer celebrated a monarch or the status quo but music itself and the emancipation of the middle class. The performances carried audiences from the shores of Aulis, where a daughter was willing to sacrifice herself for her people, to the utopian vision of Elysium. In a review of Alceste, 17 February 1820, the writer for the Berlinische Nachrichten praised Gluck’s music as the “polar opposite of the newer Italian kling klang type of music” (Klingklangformenwesen). 369 Nevertheless, Gluck’s operas, like the operas of Rossini and Bellini, “hinged on the performance as an event,” as Dahlhaus notes, “...and a score could be adapted to the changing conditions governing various theaters without violating its meaning.” 370 Though for many 19th-century critics and writers Gluck’s music diametrically opposed 19th-century Italian and French opera, the changing musical tastes of 18th- and 19th-century audiences necessitated that opera companies transform 368 “Gluck’s körnige, deutschkräftige Ouverture von diesem Riesenorchester mit Präcision und Feuer ausgeführt, begann würdig das deutsche Fest, und erfüllte die weiten Räume des alten Gürzenich mit ihren einfachen und doch so gewaltigen Tonweisen“; Ferdinand Deyks, “Aus Cöln. [Das letzte Musikfest daselbst],” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik 14 no. 47 (11 June 1841): 197. 369 Review of Alceste (Hofoper, Berlin), Berlinische Nachrichten, 17 February 1820. 370 Dahlhaus, Nineteenth-Century Music, 9. 166 Gluck’s operas to make them financially and critically viable on the stage. These manipulations went beyond music, as institutions transformed Gluck’s biography or appropriated his works to invent new traditions in the 19th century and demonstrate a continuation from and connection to a lost, idealistic past. 167 CHAPTER TWO: DAS FREMDARTIGE BALLETT AND BERLIN’S GLUCK-PFLEGE IN THE ERA OF GASPARE SPONTINI In Leipzig “on a drizzling, dreary Thursday afternoon [in] 1840,” Felix Mendelssohn approached the British music critic Henry Chorley, who was sick and confined to the sofa: “How unfortunate you are!” said Mendelssohn, who came in to pay me a friendly visit. “They have changed the opera at Berlin to- morrow night, and are going to give Gluck’s ‘Iphigenie [sic] en Tauride’. The letter is only just come. — Eckert has taken a stall for you: you could have got there in time. What a pity you cannot go!”... There was no lying still, however, when I was within four- and-twenty hours of Berlin with one of Gluck’s to be given. On the contrary, the name acted as tonic and cordial: and I had been told I could not go. Next to the invitation of a long-desired treat to a fanatico, there is no spur like his incapacity being taken for granted by kind counsellors. At six o’clock I was leaving Leipsic [sic] for a night’s journey to Berlin. 371 After enduring a hard trip through torrents of rain, without the “solace of tobacco,” Chorley arrived in Berlin in time for the performance of Iphigénie en Tauride. The performance took place in the Schauspielhaus, with Augusta von Fassmann in the title role, and as it was “performed by official command, and during the coronation festivities of [King Frederick William IV] who had already given indications of strong and large musical sympathies,” Chorley assumed the performance would be spectacular. Yet he found it to be quite the opposite: Alas! let no one count upon Royalty being stronger than Luck! the overture to ‘Iphigenia in Aulis,’ not remarkably well played, passed over;—and after it the symphony of the storm, in the midst of which the Priestess entered, upon as fine a vocal burst 371 Henry F. Chorley, Modern German Music: Recollections and Criticisms, vol. 1 (London: Smith, Elder, and Co., 1854), 246. 168 was ever planned by composer for the introduction of his prima donna. But my ear waited and waited in vain. A sound, at once harsh, though, and feeble, ill represented that splendid invocation of awe and terror; and, but for seeing the distinctive bandeau and wreath, and mystery of many veils (traditionally, as the reader knows, copied from Milder), I should never have separated the heroine of the piece from the host of screaming satellites who crowded round, by any predominance of tone, manner, or gesture. It was the very same Mademoiselle von Fassmann that I had journalized, and none other!—a year worse in voice than she had been in 1839, and not a day better in method than when she dragged Weber’s exquisite cantabiles out of shape. The opera was produced with care in stage arrangements, and liberality as to numbers and costume. ... The Furies, who, by a permissible license, are preternaturally multiplied in the scene of the vision of Orestes, were sufficiently frightful and ghastly. ... I had fault to find with [the Furies] also. They were too tangible, too prominent: instead of being hid among enveloping shadows, with a head or an arm at intervals more distinctly evident... they stood as nakedly out as though they had been so many men and women, applying their snake to the tormented dreamer, as a chorus of hospital-surgeons might have done. I would have forgiven them this, however, had they only satisfied the ear, and sung in tune; but even this simple excellence was withheld. ... [The] audience ended as it began the evening—cold and respectful, but unsympathizing. ... As I crept home to bed, more weary in mind than in body, I made a covenant with myself never again to leave a certain pleasure for an uncertain opera eighteen hours off—even though the name of Gluck, and the reputation of a metropolis at high festival-tide, conspire to beckon me. 372 Chorley’s overnight journey to Berlin to hear a performance of Gluck’s Iphigénie en Tauride, performed in translation as Iphigenia in Tauris, may sound extreme to modern readers, but it was not too unusual within its 19th-century context. In the major opera houses of Europe, Gluck’s operas were disappearing from the stage during the 372 Ibid., 254-58. 169 1830s and 1840s. 373 But in Berlin, Gluck’s operas remained in the repertoire despite the increasing popularity of newer French and Italian operas. In the 1930s, Karl Wörner labeled this performance history Berlin’s “Gluck-Pflege.” 374 As demonstrated in the previous chapter, the Hofoper and Nationaltheater of Berlin did not stage Gluck’s operas in their original 18th-century forms, but adapted, changed, and translated his operas to meet the demands of 19th-century audiences. In addition to the frequent performances, which kept Gluck’s work in the public eye and ear, writers such as A. B. Marx and Ludwig Rellstab wrote about Gluck and his works in newspapers and music journals to ensure that everyone—from professional to amateur musicians, from the cultural elite to the general public––understood the importance and significance of his operas and why they should remain in the operatic repertoire. 375 Yet, as Chorley’s reaction to the performance of Tauride suggests, many local and national critics felt that the quality of these performances of Gluck’s works was poor. 376 Moreover, the public’s taste in music and culture was also deteriorating. The cause of this period of decline, according to some critics, was the General Music Director Gaspare 373 Mark Everist remarks upon the declining interest in Gluck’s operas in Paris in “Gluck, Berlioz, and Castil-Blaze: The Poetics and Reception of French Opera,” in Reading Critics Reading: Opera and Ballet Criticism in France from the Revolution to 1848, ed. Roger Parker and Mary Ann Smart (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 86-87. Additionally, the Viennese saw very few performances of Gluck’s operas in the mid 19th century; see Michael Jahn, Die Wiener Hofoper von 1836 bis 1848: Die Ära Balochino/Merelli (Vienna: Der Apfel, 2004), 11. 374 Karl Wörner, “Die Pflege Glucks an der Berliner Oper von 1795-1841,” Zeitschrift für Musikwissenschaft 13 (1930-31): 206-16. 375 For a discussion of Berlin and Germany’s music-critical culture, see Sanna Pederson, “A. B. Marx, Berlin Concert Life, and German National Identity,” 19 th -Century Music 18, no. 2 (Autumn, 1994): 87-107 and Helmut Kirchmeyer, Situationsgeschichte der Musikkritik und des musikalischen Pressewesens in Deutschland dargestellt vom Ausgabe des 18. bis zum Beginn des 20. Jahrhunderts, Teil II, System- und Methodengeschichte, vol. 4 Quellen-Texte 1847-1851 (Regensburg: Gustav Bosse Verlag, 1996), xx. 376 Christoph Hellmut Mahling points out that Berlin’s concert life was in a period of stagnation in the 1830s and ʼ40s, in “Berlin: ‘Music in the Air’” in The Early Romantic Era between Revolutions 1789 and 1848 (Englewood, N.J: Prentice Hall, 1990), 136-37. 170 Spontini. Critics considered the period prior to Spontini’s arrival to be the height of Berlin’s Gluck-Pflege. During this time, B. A. Weber directed the Nationaltheater and Hofoper, and the sopranos Margarete Schick and Anna Milder-Hauptmann dominated the Berlin opera stage. In 1820, the Prussian King Frederick William III appointed Spontini to the post of General Music Director. Due to his history as the once-favorite composer of France (Germany’s cultural and military rival) and his poor public-relations skills, Spontini was frequently attacked by Rellstab and other critics in the local and national press for his complete misunderstanding of German culture and for populating the stage with foreign works. 377 When Spontini conducted the revival of Armide in 1837, critics reacted negatively to the poor performance of the opera and blamed Spontini for destroying the city’s Classical heritage. In the reviews of this performance, critics questioned the importance and relevance of Gluck’s operas in the changing cultural milieu of the 19th century. The purpose of this chapter is to explore the multifaceted nature of Berlin’s Gluck-Pflege during the period of Spontini. To demonstrate various critics’ reception of Gluck’s operas in the 1820s and 1830s, the first half of this chapter will discuss analyses and reviews printed in Marx’s Berliner Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (BamZ), which allude to and cite past 18th-century critiques of Gluck’s operas. Marx and other writers for the BamZ idealized the score as the object through which the performer should realize the composer’s intentions on the stage. 378 What they witnessed, however, was 377 Pederson, “A. B. Marx, Berlin Concert Life,” 94 and Dennis Libby, “Gaspare Spontini and his French and German Operas,” vol. 1 (Ph. D. diss. Princeton University, 1969), 249-60. 378 My wording here is based on Lydia Goehr, The Imaginary Museum of Musical Works: An Essay in the Philosophy of Music (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992). For additional comments on 19th-century 171 performers distorting Gluck’s characters and music. The second part of this chapter will examine the reviews and critiques of the 1837 production of Armide. In particular, writings by Ludwig Rellstab and others complained of cuts, insertions and other changes as not only violations to Gluck’s score but also Berlin’s Classical heritage and culture. 379 Additionally, these reviews documented a change in audiences’ taste in entertainment, as critics witnessed them turning away from the purity of the 18th-century Classical music tradition toward the newer Romantic school. Gluck and Marx’s Berliner Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung In 1824, A. B. Marx began the BamZ to aid his readers in understanding the new music of the 19th century. Marx believed that it was the role of the critic to assist his readers in the appreciation of music and culture. 380 In order for the public to understand the music of the 19th century, Marx asserted that one needed to have a clear understanding of the past: It is the thoughtless desertion and neglect of the old school, because one does not know how to conceive and make use of it for our intentions and formations today, it is the lack of historical consciousness that hinders the understanding of our artistic predecessors and our depending on them in order to emulate them, it is the absence of a general spiritual formation, that must leave the claims of our age misunderstood and unfulfilled. 381 performance practice, see Mary Hunter, “‘To Play as if from the Soul of the Composer’: The Idea of the Performer in Early Romantic Aesthetics,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 58 no. 2 (Summer 2005): 357-98. 379 Ludwig Rellstab wrote mainly for the Vossische Zeitung. My analysis of these writings will also draw from the writing of Anthony Smith, “The ‘Golden Age’ and National Renewal,” Myths and Nationhood eds. Geoffrey Hosking and George Schöpflin (New York: Rutledge, 1997), 36-59. 380 Sanna Pederson, “Enlightened and Romantic German Music Criticism,” (Ph.D. diss., University of Pennsylvania, 1995), 73. 381 A. B. Marx, “Standpunkt der Zeitung,” BamZ 4 (1827) cited and translated in Pederson, “Enlightened and Romantic German Music Criticism,” 80. 172 With this desire to raise the historical consciousness of his readers, Marx published various articles on the music of the past in order to demonstrate where the music of the 19th century was coming from and where it was going. Marx held Gluck’s operas, especially Iphigénie en Tauride, as models for young composers, and that these 18th- century operas still sounded fresh and new against the modern works of Rossini and his followers. In the journal’s first year of publication, the Berlin Hofoper staged Alceste, Armide, and Iphigenia in Tauris for the carnival season. In response to these performances, Marx printed a series of articles with frank analyses of Gluck’s operas, beginning with a review of Alceste. The opening of his article typified the reviews of Gluck’s operas by early 19th-century critics in Berlin; he acknowledged that the city was unique among European capitals for continually performing operas of the past: Gluck has, at least in his German fatherland, no truer admirers than the musical public of Berlin. Elsewhere, people may fear as too overpowering the roar of his cothurnus; everywhere, however, Gluck will have won for himself the true friends of music and tied them to him. 382 Gluck hat, wenigstens in seinem deutschen Vaterlande, keine treuern Verehrer, als das musikalische Publikum von Berlin. Anderswo mag vom gewaltigen Kothurn eine zu starke Dröhnung gefürchtet werden; überall aber wird Gluck die wahren Musikfreunde für sich gewonnen, an sich gefesselt haben. Marx remarked upon the oddity that Gluck’s operas had survived into the 19th century when those of so many of his predecessors and contemporaries had vanished. 382 A. B. Marx, “Ueber Gluck und seine Alceste,” BamZ 1, no. 5 (February 1824): 43. Libby characterizes the form of these reviews as a “mixture of lament and self-congratulation” in “Gaspare Spontini and his French and German Operas,” 254. Cothurnus was a boot worn by ancient actors. The word also suggests the elevated style of acting in ancient drama. 173 Particularly, Marx considered Gluck to be a kindred spirit of Lully, whose operas were no longer performed. This led Marx to ask the question, “In what consists the singularity of Gluck’s music?” 383 The investigation Marx undertook in this and other articles was an attempt to understand the uniqueness of Gluck’s works and why they were still relevant to 19th-century musical culture and appreciated by audiences. To uncover the characteristics that define Gluck’s operas, he felt it was not enough to examine the chords, modulations, and melodies; rather, he insisted on discussing the totality of the work and the composer’s oeuvre: It is time to break away from that derogatory perspective by which art is seen as handiwork, which seems to presuppose that the composer just turns melodies and harmonies on a lathe (or catches them) and calls those ones the greatest, who can churn out the most [pieces] for the market. Nothing is easier for a somewhat trained and routine musician than to manufacture melodies and glue chords together. The true artist has no motivation to undertake such insignificant activity. In him, the thought develops its own manifestation, as the soul cultivates the body. The totality of his creation is the representation of his spirit, and each individual one of his works can only be entirely understood when we have comprehended from the whole oeuvre the artist’s character and intellectual point of view of the artist. 384 Es ist Zeit, von jener, die Kunst zum Handwerke herabwürdigenden Ansichtweise abzugehen, die vorauszusetzen scheint, daß der Komponist nur Melodien und Harmonien drechsle (oder auch ertappe) und die den Größten nennt, welcher die meisten zu Markte bringt. Nichts ist für einen einigermaßen unterrichteten und routinirten Musiker leichter, als Melodieen zu fabriziren und Akkorde an einander zu leimen. Der wahre Künstler ist zu diesem bedeutungslosen Treiben nicht veranlaßt. In ihm bildet der Gedanke sich seinen Ausdruck, wie die Seele sich den Körper baut. Die Gesammtheit seiner Schöpfungen ist das 383 “…worin besteht das Eigenthümliche Gluckscher Musik?”; ibid. 384 Ibid. For additional writing on Marx’s approach to analysis, see Scott Burnham, “A. B. Marx and the Gendering of Sonata Form,” in Music Theory in the Age of Romanticism, ed. Ian Bent (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 167. 174 Abbild seines Geistes und jedes Einzelne seiner Werke wird erst ganz verständlich, wenn wir aus allen den Charakter und geistigen Standpunkt des Künstlers erfaßt haben. Marx then stated that Gluck was not merely a craftsman who slapped music onto words, but a composer who constructed unique musical dramas in which the music springs forth from the libretto. Within his entire operatic oeuvre, “As Gluck composed [music to the librettos], he was for us the poet.” 385 That is, the listener’s comprehension of the text was understood not only through the poet’s intention, but through the composer’s “perception of the poem.” Therefore, the writer cannot overlook the libretto, because it provided the initial impetus for the composer’s “plan and ideas of the whole.” 386 Librettists and composers often relied on Greek and Roman mythological plots to build their operas, but, in Marx’s estimation, they filled their librettos with many mistakes and artificialities. Marx felt that modern audiences were presented with only the mask of antiquity, and that modern plots were merely dressed up in “Roman and Grecian draperies.” Yet the closer one comes to understanding “the spirit of antiquity and that of one’s own era, the more deficient that approach became” 387 Marx asserted that Gluck’s opera Alceste presented audiences with the actual substance and drama of antiquity: In this activity, Gluck rose up and presented us with the true antiquity, not its empty mask. His perspective, as it expresses itself in his works of art, belongs absolutely to ancient Greece. For him, the divine is separated from man, as man is separated from nature. For him, the gear wheels of events lay outside men—and not in a single higher being, rather in the hands of different, often 385 “Indem Gluck sie komponirte, wurde er für uns der Dichter”; ibid., 44. 386 Ibid. 387 “Je näher man den Geist des Alterthums und den der eigenen Zeit kennen lernte, desto unzulänglicher wurde jene Auffassungsweise”; ibid. 175 contradictory powers. Admetus must die and Alcestis must sacrifice herself, because a god wants it. Not Alcestis’ hand nor law perform the sacrifice, nor does any interior motive hinder Admetus from sharing death with her. The gods of death achieve both; and when deliverance is due to come, again it is not [Alcestis’ and Admetus’s] personal ability, but rather the exterior [power of the] strength of Hercules, who, in defiance of the gods of death, accomplishes the deliverance. Bereft of divine will and the power to act freely, man in his limitation has to bow in suffering and awe before the superior power of the gods, advised, guided, dismissed or protected by either one or the other of them. Thus a paralysis spreads over the whole event. Sorrow or joy, as the lot now falls, hope and fright, complaints and gratitude, obsequious sacrifice, in order to appease a blind superior—[free] will and free acts are nowhere to be found. In summary: the perspective of childhood as human understanding. 388 In diesem Treiben stand Gluck auf und stellte uns das wahre Alterthum, nicht seine leere Maske, vor. Seine Ansichtweise, wie sie sich in seinen Kunstwerken darlegt, gehört durchaus dem alten Griechenland an. Ihm ist das Göttliche vom Menschen geschieden, wie der Mensch von der Natur. Die Triebräder der Begebenheiten liegen ihm ausser dem Menschen – und nicht in einem einheitsvollen höhern Wesen, sondern in den Händen verschiedener, einander oft widersprechender Gewalten. Admet soll sterben und Alceste sich opfern, weil ein Gott es will. Nicht Alcestens Hand oder Gebot vollzieht das Opfer, nicht irgend ein inneres Motiv hindert Admet, den Tod mit ihr zu theilen. Die Todesgötter vollbringen beides; und da Rettung kommen soll, so ist es wieder nicht irgend ein eigenes Vermögen, sondern die äußere Kraft des Herkules, der, den Göttern des Todes zum Hohn, die Rettung vollbringt. Des göttlichen Willens und des freien Handelns beraubt, steht der beschränkte Mensch gebeugt, leidend, ehrfurchtsvoll vor dem übermächtigen Walten der Gottheiten, berathen, geleitet, verworfen und beschützt von der einen oder der andern. So verbreitet sich eine Lähmung über die ganze Begebenheit. Trauer oder Freude, wie das Loos nun fällt, Hoffen und Bangen, Klage und Dank, unterwürfiges Opfer, um eine blinde Uebermacht zu versöhnen – nirgends Wille und freie That. Um 388 Ibid. Marx’s statement of a “childhood perspective” was likely an allusion to Friedrich von Schiller’s essay “Über naïve und sentimentalische Dichtung” (1795), in which he described naïve poetry, which is associated with the ancients, in terms of childlike simplicity. This is based on M. H. Abrams’ reading in The Mirror and the Lamp: Romantic Theory and the Critical Tradition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1953; Oxford University Press paperback, 1971), 238. 176 alles zusammen zu fassen: die Ansichtweise des Kindesalters menschlicher Erkenntniß. A truer image of antiquity emerges in Gluck’s opera, because, according to Marx, instead of characters debasing themselves through intrigues and selfish behavior, ruthless deities determine the characters’ actions from above. The unfortunate result is a stagnant drama in which characters are trapped by a higher power. When opera productions presented these divine beings on the stage, their appearance failed to sweep audiences away into the story: We cannot believe in this swarm of gods of death, in this boastful Hercules, in this Apollo who seems to float down only for the sake of the beautiful clouds (however beautiful they were!); they appear to us as machines in order to help the lame business along. And if a poet finds us willing to believe in his gods, in individual superior powers, when we read with enthusiasm about the Battle of Troy in Homer, then it is so because the poet gives our fantasy the freedom and stimulus to think about the superhuman in terms of superhuman form, grandeur, beauty, and power. The way things appear on the stage is too solid, definite, and corporeal. It spoils and limits our power of imagination; the comparison of men to superhuman beings next to them of a similar (or even smaller) size, a similar beauty or ugliness, [and] a similar voice is too disturbing. The low manner of appearance fits the unworthy conduct. Divinities who only bestow recovery upon a sick person if another wishes to sacrifice himself for him, divine deadly powers which flee from [Hercules’] club, can evoke neither love nor fear in us. 389 Wir können an diese Schaar von Todesgöttern, an diesen prahlerischen Herkules, an diesen Apollo, der nur um der schönen Wolken willen (wären sie noch schön!) hernieder zu schweben scheint, nicht glauben; sie erscheinen uns als Maschinen, um der gelähmten Begebenheit fortzuhelfen. Und findet der Dichter uns willig, an seine Götter, an vereinzelte übermächtige Gewalten zu glauben, lesen wir im Homer mit Begeisterung den Kampf der Götter um Troja, so ist es, weil der Dichter unserer Phantasie Freiheit und Anregung giebt, das Uebermenschliche auch in 389 Ibid., 45-46. 177 übermenschlicher Gestalt, Größe, Schönheit und Macht zu denken. Die Erscheinung auf der Bühne ist zu fest, bestimmt, körperlich. Sie lähmt und fesselt unsere Einbildungskraft; die Vergleichung der Menschen und daneben der– übermenschlichen Wesen von gleicher (oder gar mindrer) Größe, gleicher Schönheit oder Unschönheit, gleicher Stimme, drängt sich uns zu störend auf. Die niedrige Weise der Erscheinung entspricht der unwürdigen Handlungsweise. Gottheiten, die einem Kranken nur Genesung schenken, wenn ein anderer für ihn sich opfern will, Todesgewalten, die vor einer Keule entweichen, können weder Liebe noch Furcht in uns erwecken. Though Marx praised Gluck for representing antiquity in its true guise, inept casting and staging resulted in a comic effect instead of a serious one. This corporeal aspect of opera, according to Marx, would always hinder the genre from portraying higher spiritual ideals, thereby preventing audiences from being transported by the plot. 390 Additionally, Marx calls into question plots that mix humans and gods, since the mixture creates an inconsistent narrative in which capricious deities either bestow or withdraw life for arbitrary reasons. For Marx, the entire opera would have failed if it were not for Gluck’s music: “Man himself, the purely human, contained within itself––this is where we recognize Gluck’s greatest power.” 391 But, Marx found that Gluck composed music for specific characters and dramatic situations, and therefore his music lacked a certain universalist tone. To support his position, Marx compared Gluck’s music with Mozart’s: 390 Marx, like many 19th-century critics, felt that the symphony was the better genre for removing audiences from the physical realm toward a more metaphysical world. See Carl Dahlhaus, The Idea of Absolute Music, trans. Roger Lustig (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1989), 12-13, 58-77 and also Scott Burnham, Beethoven Hero (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995), 69. 391 “Der Mensch, das Menschliche rein in sich abgeschlossen—ist es, worin wir Glucks grösste Macht erkennen”; Marx, “Ueber Gluck und seine Alceste (Schluß aus dem Extrablatte zu No. 5,” BamZ 1, no. 6 (February 1824): 52. 178 In Mozart one perceives, in addition to a particular disposition, a universal feeling that is hard to define; there flows through his compositions a magnetic current (quite literally), in which each individual feels in harmony with nature and in nature. Therefore, in [Mozart], the melody, the modulation, and instrumentation emerge richer in order to fulfil this double expressive functions. Thus, both in the vocal parts (compare, for example, Donna Anna’s F-major aria [“Non mi dir, bell’ idol mio”] in Don Juan) and—almost everywhere—in the orchestral part, melismas and larger-scale, richer figurations (coloratura passages) issue forth, which can only have originated and can only be explained by the above-mentioned motive. This general, all-embracing and all-supporting element is excluded from Gluck’s creations. Even when the occasion most urgently calls for it (for example, in the scene in Armide where nature’s magic charms lull Rinaldo to sleep [act 2, sc. 2]), this element emerges in a more individual, definite character than it ever would with a composer who emphasizes from the other side; and if creations by [Mozart] appear to us like paintings, in which the landscape, with its groves, meadows, and edifices along with the humans and animals who make them come alive, forms an inseparable whole, Gluck’s characters resemble sculptures in their definite and self-contained form. It is [Gluck’s] rejection of this universal, enlivening element which will always turn the majority of the audience away from Gluck and towards his antipodes. Restricting the focus to the representation of man alone results in emptiness and monotony in those situations where this exclusive subject of Gluck’s muse seems to be unimportant and less interesting. 392 In Mozart ist neben der besondern Gemüthstimmung stets noch ein allgemeines, schwerer zu fixirendes Gefühl merkbar; es ergiesst sich durch seine Komposition ein magnetischer Strom (man nehme den Ausdruck wörtlich) in dem jedes Individuum sich einheitsvoll mit und in der Natur fühlt. Ueberall gestaltet sich daher in ihm die Melodie, die Modulation, die Instrumentation reicher, um dem doppelten Ausdrucke zu genügen. So treten in der Singstimme (man betrachte z. B, die F dur-Arie der Anna in Don Juan) und — fast überall — in den Instrumenten Melismen und 392 Ibid., 52-53. Comparisons between Gluck’s and Mozart’s operas had been made before Marx’s time. An example is Carl Bernhard Wessely’s “Gluck und Mozart,” Berlinisches Archiv der Zeit und ihres Geschmacks, ed. Friedrich Ludwig Wilhelm Meyer vol. 1 (1795), 435-40, reprinted in H. G. Ottenberg, ed., Der critische Musicus an der Spree: Berliner Musikschrifttum von 1748-1799. Eine Dokumentation (Leipzig: Reclaim 1984), 334-38. 179 größere, reichere Figuren (Passagen) ein, die nur aus der bezeichneten Anregung hervorgegangen sein und erklärt werden können. Dieses allgemeine, alles umschließende und alles tragende Element ist aus Glucks Schöpfungen ausgeschlossen. Selbst bei der dringendsten Veranlassung dazu (z. B. in der Scene in Armida, wo Rinaldo vom Zauberreize der Natur in Schlummer gewiegt wird) formt es sich bei ihm mehr zu einem individuellen, zu einem bestimmtern Wesen, als je bei einem Komponisten von der entgegengesetzten Seite; und wenn uns Schöpfungen der letztern wie ein reiches Gemälde erscheinen, in dem die Landschaft mit ihren Baum- und Wiesenstücken und Gebäuden, mit den Menschen und Thieren, die sie beleben, Ein [sic] unzertrennliches Ganze bildet, so stehen Glucksche Gestalten in aller Bestimmtheit und Abgeschlossenheit eines Werks der Bildhauerei gegenüber. Die Zurückweisung jenes allgemein anregenden Elements ist es, welche die Mehrzahl im musikalischen Publikum stets von Gluck ab, und seinen Antipoden zuwenden wird. Die Beschränkung auf die Darstellung des Menschen allein ist es, welche Leere und Monotonie herbeiführt, wo dieser ausschließliche Gegenstand der Gluckschen Muse unwichtig und weniger interessant erscheint. Whereas this universal feeling exists in Mozart’s operas, in the following paragraph, Marx contends that Gluck condenses all that is universal into the individual. The dramatic, musical result is a complete characterization of the situation and the individual, as he or she wrestles with the power of the gods: But how powerful is Gluck where the focus is on man and a particular situation, a particular state in which he finds himself! He saves all the force of his mind for this core of his works; there he takes possession of the listener and fills him so wholly that all minor matters disappear from his sight, as from Gluck’s own, and everything that is universal is condensed into the individual. In this manner, Gluck shares both in the limitation and in the glorious might of the ancients. How man stands before the gods in submission, how he subordinates himself to them, how he implores the higher powers—now humbly, now impetuously—how he resigns, turns back to himself, tears loose from them, revolts against their injustice and arbitrariness: all this has never been thought and sung as it has by Gluck. Rising from this fountain, a solemnity and sense of religiousness pervades all his works, so that 180 only altars and idols are missing in order to give a complete image of the chorus in Greek tragedy. 393 Aber wie mächtig ist Gluck, wo es nun den Menschen und eine bestimmte Lage, einen bestimmten Zustand desselben gilt! Die ganze Kraft seines Geistes ist für diesen Kern seiner Werke gespart, bemächtigt sich da des Hörers und erfüllt ihn so ganz, daß ihm, wie Gluck, alles Nebenwerk verschwindet und alles Allgemeine zum Individuellen sich konzentrirt. So nimmt Gluck an der Beschränkung, wie an der herrlichen Kraft der Alten Theil. Wie der Mensch in unterwürfiger Ehrfurcht vor den Göttern steht, wie er sich ihnen unterordnet, jetzt demüthig, jetzt ungestüm zu den Uebermächtigen fleht, wie er resignirt, in sich zurückkehrt, sich losreisst, sich gegen ihre Ungerechtigkeit und Willkühr auflehnt: das ist nie gedacht und gesungen worden, wie von Gluck. Ueber alle seine Werke verbreitet sich aus diesem Quell eine Feierlichkeit und Religiosität, der oft nur die aufgestellten Altäre und Götterbilder fehlen, um ein vollendetes Bild des Chors in den griechischen Trauerspielen zu geben. Gluck, according to Marx, created this unique, solemn sound by constructing his melodies and rhythms from language itself: If one considers Gluck’s melody and rhythm, their origin in language cannot remain hidden. There is no language without intonation and rhythm; both have emerged naturally from the sensibility of the speaker, conditioned by his character, mood, etc. Within language, however, lives a second element: thought. Our languages have evolved so far that any idea can be expressed through their use. At this stage of development, the musical element recedes behind the former, universal sentiment fades before the emerging thought, accompanied by a certain feeling. But this is the sphere we have indicated as Gluck’s. Language, the element in which the human mind finds its clearest expression, the same language that is incapable of expressing that universal sentiment, that all-encompassing sense which lives within music, could and had to predominate in Gluck just as much as in Greek choruses. 394 393 Ibid., 53. 394 Ibid., 54. 181 Betrachtet man Glucksche Melodie und Gluckschen Rythmus, so kann nicht verborgen bleiben, daß beide aus der Sprache geboren sind. Es giebt keine Sprache ohne Tonfall und Rythmus; beide sind natürlich aus der Empfindung des Sprechenden hervorgegangen, durch seinen Charakter, seine Stimmung u. s. w. bedingt. Allein es lebt in der Sprache noch ein zweites Element: der Gedanke. Unsere Sprachen sind so weit ausgebildet, daß jeder Begriff durch sie ausgedrückt werden kann. Auf dieser Stufe der Entwickelung tritt das musikalische Element hinter jenes zurück, die allgemeine Empfindung schwindet vor dem, im Geleite bestimmten Gefühls hervortretenden Gedanken. Dies ist aber die Sphäre, welche wir für Gluck angedeutet haben. Die Sprache, das Element, in dem der menschliche Geist sich am genügendsten ausdrückt — die Sprache aber, die unfähig des Ausdrucks jener allgemeinen Empfindung, jener umfassenden Ahnung ist, welche in der Musik lebt, konnte und mußte eben so nothwendig in Gluck vorherrschen, als in den griechischen Chören. Marx’s analysis of the relationship between words and music dovetailed with many earlier critiques and analyses of the composer’s music in the 18th century, but approached the issue through a Romantic ideology. Marx’s statement about language in particular derived from a larger debate, occurring in Gluck’s time, as to the exact relationship between words and music. Gluck’s collaborator Calzabigi designed his libretto for Alceste so as to remove abuses of poetry and restrict music to enhancing the words. 395 With a more declamatory setting of the text, some critics felt Gluck’s music eschewed anything beautiful and melodic. Responding to Gluck’s operas for the Paris stage, Jean-François Marmontel wrote that it was odd to banish beautiful verses from tragedy and even a “stranger idea to mix declamation with fragments of mutilated 395 Ranieri Calzabigi, “Dedication of Alceste” (1769), translated in Oliver Strunk, ed. Source Readings in Music History, rev. ed. by Leo Treitler, general editor (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1998), 933. 182 song.” 396 Jean-François de La Harpe stated, “There is little melody in Iphigénie [en Aulide]; its airs are feeble and poor. There is still less of it in Alceste.” 397 Another component to the debate was whether or not words were even necessary. After the premiere of Alceste in Vienna, Joseph von Sonnenfels wrote that Gluck’s eloquent recitatives made “the whole content comprehensible, rendering the words almost superfluous.” 398 La Harpe admitted that Orphée et Eurydice was “the first example of an opera in which the music was never separate from the action, and in which the words and the melody formed a truly dramatic whole from beginning to end.” 399 Marx highlighted this integration of words and music as the unifying thread running throughout Alceste. His statement about language was very much in line with earlier Romantic philosophies about the origin of language and its relationship to rhythm. Friedrich Schlegel, for example, posited that rhythm was common to both language and music; rhythm made the advent of language possible, gave voice to the “incomprehensible infinity,” and made it possible to disseminate thoughts. 400 By constructing his music with such close attention to language, Gluck created a musical vocabulary suited for the Greeks in their supplications and appeals to their gods. Yet this 396 Jean-François Marmontel, Essay on the Progress of Music in France (1777), cited in Enrico Fubini, Music and Culture in Eighteenth-Century Europe: A Source Book, ed. Bonnie J. Blackburn and trans. Wolfgang Freis, et. al. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 369. 397 Patricia Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait in Letters and Documents (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995), 177. 398 Ibid., 83. 399 Quoted in Fubini, Music and Culture, 359. 400 Andrew Bowie, “Music and the Rise of Aesthetics,” The Cambridge History of Nineteenth-Century Music. ed. Jim Samson (Cambridge: Cambridge University, 2002), 35. Additional comments about Schlegel’s theories of art and language are in Dahlhaus, The Idea of Absolute Music, 52-54. There were many theoretical approaches to the origin of language and its relationship to music and the arts in the late 18th and early 19th century, most of which have been summarized in M. H. Abrams, The Mirror and the Lamp, 78-95. 183 musical language was limited to the specific dramatic situation and had limited appeal, thereby sounding cold and monotonous to some listeners. But, from Marx’s perspective, Gluck created an organically unified art work in which the words, rhythms, and melodies are all one. To support his assertion about Gluck’s music and its relationship to language, Marx printed measures 103-106 from the chorus “Dilegua il nero turbine che freme al trono intorno” in act 1, sc. 3 (Music Example 2.1): Marx believed this moment represented the manner in which the melody, rhythm, orchestration, and words all came together to heighten the dramatic effect of the priest’s and people’s prayer: [Gluck’s approach to] composition prefers to stress the musical element of language; he creates the most powerful impression in his vocal writing, and if, exceptionally, the orchestral part comes Music Example 2.1: Measures 103-106, “O faretrato Apolline col chiaro tuo splendor” from the chorus “Dilegua il nero turbine che freme altrono intorno” (translated: “aus der Nacht strahl’ ihm noch der Tag dem guten großen Heldensohne”) act 1, sc. 3, Alceste, example from BamZ. 184 into the foreground in an unusual manner, it is closely connected [to the vocal part]. For example, in the [second] printed musical example [Music Example 2.1], both the repeated phrase in the melody and the impetuous figure in the violins, which again and again strikes a single point, together serve to express the fervid, urgent prayer of the priest and the populace. Thus the poem and music co-exist in Gluck in such unity as cannot be found in another composer, and therefore the foremost demand made upon a singer is not to upset this unity. 401 Seine Komposition hat vorzugsweise das musikalische Element in der Sprache hervorzuheben, der mächtigste Eindruck liegt fast überall im Gesange, und wenn Ausnahmsweise die Instrumentation eigenthümlich hervortritt, so schließt sie sich doch der Bedeutung nach eng an, wie z, B. in der vorgedruckten Stelle sowohl die wiederholte Wendung in der Melodie, als die stürmische, stets auf Einen Punkt schlagende Figur der Violinen gemeinschaftlich das ungestüme, dringende Gebet des Priesters und des Volkes ausdrücken. So bestehen denn Gedicht und Musik in Gluck neben einander in einer Einheit, wie sie bei keinem Komponisten sonst gefunden wird und so ist es die erste Anfoderung an den Sänger, diese Einheit nicht zu stören. Since Gluck constructed his melodies directly from language, Marx argued that singers should perform his works in the original language: Taking this opportunity to turn from general issues to matters of performance, we have to deplore that circumstances do not allow for performances of Gluck’s operas in the language in which they were composed. Gluck so [carefully] used every accent, every inflection that is germane to this language, the character of all its sounds, the most suitable rhythm that could be extracted from the text—his manner of composition is so rooted in them that we hold a completely adequate translation to be impossible. The more deeply we have sought to enter into the musical element of language, the more convinced we came to be of this view. … The best advice for skilled singers is to dispense with the notes rather than the composer’s intentions; the most important [thing] is to study the language in which they are to sing. And 401 Marx, “Ueber Gluck und seine Alceste,” 54. 185 these efforts are not to be limited to the most important passages, but must penetrate the whole. 402 Wenden wir uns bei dieser Gelegenheit vom Allgemeinen zur Aufführung, so ist zu beklagen, daß die Verhältniße nicht gestatten, Glucks Opern in der Sprache, in welcher sie komponirt sind, aufzuführen. Jeder Accent, jeder in dieser einheimische Tonfall, der Charakter aller Laute, der genügendste Rythmus, der sich dem Texte abgewinnen ließ, sind so von Gluck benutzt, seine Komposition ist so darauf berechnet, daß wir eine vollkommen genügende Uebersetzung zu dem Unmöglichen rechnen. Je tiefer wir in das musikalische Element der Sprache einzudringen versucht haben, desto bedenklicher ward uns bei dieser Ansicht. ... Das beste Auskunftsmittel für gebildete Sänger bleibt, lieber die Noten, als den Sinn des Komponisten zu verlassen; das Nöthigste, die Sprache, in der gesungen werden soll, zu studieren. Und diese Bemühungen dürfen nicht allein auf die wichtigsten Stellen eingeschränkt werden, sondern müssen das Ganze durchdringen. Though Marx wanted singers to perform and understand Gluck’s operas in the original language, as was discussed in the first chapter, the prevailing performance practice of the 19th century was to perform his operas in German translation. A reviewer for the Berlinische Nachrichten noted that when the Hofoper performed Alceste in German for the 1817 production, audiences enjoyed the work for the first time. 403 In 1810 the Viennese Hofoper performed Alceste in Italian, the reviewer for the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (hereafter AmZ) claimed that it was a mistake to perform the opera in Italian with German singers; though not entirely the fault of the language; the production was a failure and ran for only three performances. 404 Furthermore, a reviewer for the Vossische Zeitung reported audiences hissing at the Hofoper’s staging of Gluck’s 402 Ibid. 403 Review of Alceste by Christoph Gluck (Hofoper, Berlin), Berlinische Nachrichten, 18 October 1817. 404 “Nachrichten Wien,” AmZ 12, no. 35 (May 1810): 555. 186 Italian Orfeo ed Euridice. 405 These reports suggest that translating Gluck’s operas into German became an essential component of 19th-century productions in order to ensure that German audiences understood and enjoyed the opera. Whereas (in Marx’s opinion) Gluck redeemed the poetic failings of Alceste through his music, Marx printed an analysis of Armide by an author identified only as “A–Z” that found fault in both the music and libretto. 406 Marx added “From another quill” at the beginning of the article to demonstrate that these remarks about Gluck’s Armide were not his, especially since many of the statements contradicted the unquestionable praise for the opera from the writers E. T. A. Hoffmann and Johann Friedrich Reichardt. 407 The writer notes that Quinault’s 17th-century libretto is far more vibrant than many of the librettos produced in the 19th century: Remaining true to our fundamental position that it is impossible to discuss an opera, in which music is an essential component, without entering into the framework constituted by its text, we must in the case of the long-known and famous Armide go into detail about its libretto, which is already approximately 150 years old. But it is precisely its age that allows us to draw a conclusion regarding its merit. For which one among modern-day opera librettos is filled by such vitality that it could hope to reach an age of 150 years? Even if by means of the life-giving air of music some of them can prolong [modern day librettos] breathing (or, in fact, receive any at all, because most of them are stillborn), there is none that could present itself and say that, like Quinault’s Armide, it had seen a musical spouse die in its arms and yet 405 Review Orfeo ed Euridice by Christoph Gluck (Hofoper, Berlin), Vossische Zeitung, 5 April 1821. 406 Within 19th-century German performances materials and critical writings, the spelling of characters’ names is a mix of the Italian and French. The title character usually appears as Armide. Though it was Renaud in the French versions, Germans used a variant of the Italian name, writing either “Renald” or “Rinald.” The latter was used a majority of the times. Within this chapter, I will use the German spelling of the names. 407 For Hoffmann, at the end of his famous novella Ritter Gluck (1809), the ghost of Gluck performs the overture to Armide from an empty score on the piano. For Reichardt, his essay “Etwas über Gluck und dessen Armide,” Berlinische musikalische Zeitung 1, no. 28 (1805) is full of hyperbolic praise for the composer and his opera. 187 flowered as a youthful lovely bride at its second wedding almost a hundred years later. And that is the case with Quinault’s beautiful poem. […] For after Lully, who can perhaps be called the Adam*) 408 of contemporary opera composers, brought already in 1688 [sic] about the wedding of this enchanting Armide with his musical son, who had, however, become old and grey by their centennial and finally died, Gluck’s divine-born genius still found the lovely [Armide] captivating, like the youthful Aurora in the arms of aged Tithonos. And only at this point, when two [beings] from the eternally youthful kin of the gods had wed, did they achieve immortality together. 409 Unserm Grundsatze getreu; daß sich von einer Oper, bei der die Musik wesentliches Organ ist, gar nicht sprechen lasse, falls man nicht genau in das Gebäude des Textes eingegangen ist, müssen wir auch hier bei der längst bekannten und berühmten Armide von einem Gedichte ausführlich sprechen, das schon gegen hundert und fünfzig Jahr alt ist. Aber eben dieses Alter wird schon vorläufig einen Schluß auf den Werth desselben machen lassen. Denn welcher der heutigen Operntexte möchte so viel Lebenskraft in sich verspüren, daß er ein Alter von 150 Jahren zu erreichen hoffen könnte? Wenn auch einige durch die Lebensluft der Musik ihre Athemzüge verlängern (oder gar erst erhalten, denn die meisten sind todt geboren) so möchte doch wohl keiner auftreten können und sagen: er habe, wie Quinaults Armide, einen musikalischen Gatten in seinen Armen sterben sehn und nach fast hundert Jahren bei der zweiten Heirath noch als junge liebliche Braut geblüht. Und das that Quinaults schönes Gedicht. Denn nachdem Lülly, der vielleicht der Adam der heutigen Opernkomponisten genannt werden kann, schon 1688 die Hochzeit seines musikalischen Sohnes mit dieser reizenden Armide zu 408 [By the editor]*) Presumably, the esteemed reviewer intends to refer to Adam as a patriarch, rather than alluding to his having brought original sin upon his descendants. That Adam, who let himself be seduced by the apple, trifling away the operatic paradise, can be found closer in time to us, although even on h o r s e b a c k [R o s s e] one would not be able to catch up with his rapid fame and working speed. Comment by the satirical typesetter. [*) Der geschätzte Ref. will damit wohl mir den-Urvater bezeichnen und nicht darauf anspielen, dass er die Erbsünde auf die Nachwelt gebracht habe. Den Adam der Oper, der sich vom Apfel reizen liess und das Opern-Paradies verscherzte, möchte man näher finden, obwohl man seinen geschwinden Ruhm und sein Schnelligkeit im Arbeiten selbst zu R o s s e nie einholen würde. Anm. d. satirischen Setzers]. (As it appears in the footnote, “on horseback” is spelled out as “zu Rosse nie ” to hint at the modern composer alluded to but not mentioned. I would like to thank Dr. Desler for pointing out this joke.) 409 A-Z, “Armide von Gluck. (Siebente Karnevaloper, in Berlin am 23 Febr. Gegeb.),” BamZ 1, nos. 10-11 (March 1824): 86, 91. 188 Werke gebracht, und dieser im hundertsten Jahr seiner Ehe freilich alt und grau geworden war und abstarb, fand Glucks göttlich geborner Genius die Holde noch immer reizend, wie die jugendliche Aurora im Arm, des greisen Tithonos. Und erst jetzt, als zwei vom ewig jungen Geschlechte der Götter sich vermählt hatten, errangen sie gemeinsam Unsterblichkeit. Quinault and Lully’s opera was successful, because the poet and the composer worked together to create a fully integrated opera. The writer A-Z contrasts Lully’s and Quinault’s work situation with 19th-century practices in which librettos are quickly written and then hastily set to music: A famous composer of [Lully’s] time had already said of Quinault’s verses: “Who can set them to music? They are music already.” Still today, this verdict must be affirmed. However, one should not assume that [Quinault] dashed off his verses as easily as poets today, who have nothing of the blissful power of poetry within or about them other than its name, who churn out something like it and afterwards fancy themselves great librettists or translators. No, Quinault worked with the greatest care and strictness, and Lully dealt with the poems that he was given to set to music with even greater strictness. He did not take up work before his poet had fully satisfied him, even in the smallest detail. Then, however, he showed him the greatest respect by not changing one iota in the structure of a libretto later on. 410 Schon ein berühmter Tonkünstler jener Zeit hatte von Quinaults Versen gesagt: “Wer kann sie komponiren? Sie sind schon Musik," und noch heut muss man diesen Ausspruch bekräftigen. Man wähne aber auch nicht, daß sie so leicht hingeworfen sein möchten, wie etwa heutige Dichter, die vom Wonnemond der Poesie nichts in und an sich haben als den Namen, dergleichen fabriziren und sich hernach einbilden, große Operndichter und Übersetzer zu sein. Nein, Quinault arbeitete mit der größten Sorgfalt und Strenge, und noch strenger verfuhr der unerbittliche einsichtvolle Lülly mit den Gedichten, die ihm zur Komposition gebracht wurden. Er ging nicht eher an die Arbeit, bis sein Dichter ihm vollständig bis ins Kleinste hinein genügt hatte. Dann aber bezeigte er ihm auch die größeste Achtung, indem 410 A-Z., “Armide von Gluck,” 1, no. 11 BamZ (March 1824): 91. 189 später nicht das mindeste mehr an dem Plan eines Gedichts geändert wurde. The writer continues with an idealistic view of the operatic production in the 17th century in which the opera personnel, singers, and dancers all worked together to create a unified operatic work in order to fulfill the poet’s and composer’s wishes. 411 A-Z’s nostalgic vision of Lully’s and Quinault’s working relationship has implications for the author’s conclusions about Gluck’s setting of Armide. That is, Gluck did not work with the librettist directly in order to make the necessary changes for the composer’s contemporary audiences. During the compositional process of Armide, Gluck did believe some portions of the libretto needed to be changed. Gluck wrote to his colleague François-Louis-Gaud Lebland Du Roullet, claiming, “I am not going to remove one verse from Quinault’s opera, but in many scenes one must be able to... gallop with the music in order to conceal the coldness and ennui contained in the pieties expressed.” 412 A month later, Gluck wrote again to Du Roullet, stating, “As for Armide, I shall not decide about the music until I come to Paris, because I want to consult you first about whether we should leave the poem as it is or make cuts.” 413 A year later, Du Rollet had published a Lettre sur les drames-opéra in which he pointed out the faults and superfluities of Quinault’s libretto. 414 In the end, most of Quinault’s libretto remained, 411 The writer ends with a critique of modern poets who refuse to adjust their librettos for composers. The writer notes that Lully worked with the great poets of the 17th century, citing Pierre Corneille, who changed their poetry so that it fit better with the music. Additionally, the writer reminds his readers that French literature and theater have always had a major influence over German literary and performing arts. 412 Letter from Gluck to Du Roullet on 14 October 1775, cited in Patricia Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth- Century Portrait, 149. 413 Letter from Vienna 22 November 1774, cited and translated in ibid, 151. 414 Daniel Heartz, Music in European Capitals: The Galant Style 1720-1780 (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2003), 830-42. 190 with very little added or removed. Additionally, as David Chartlton notes, when Gluck set Armide, it was fashionable for composers and librettists to update and reset the texts of Quinault and Metastasio for the Paris stage. 415 With that said, the writer for the BamZ believed that Gluck set Quinault’s libretto without any changes. Relying on popular opinion, the writer for the BamZ notes that modern audiences found Armide simply boring to a large extent: After having said so much about the excellence of that way of producing operas, it may almost seem paradoxical if we claim that precisely the Armide discussed here is, more than any other opera on earth, so closely related to the genre ennueux that one could consider her a son [sic] of that family; and indeed, making this claim would require a lot of courage if we didn’t know all those listeners and spectators who have lasted through the fourth act to be on our side. Thus it is the vox populi that speaks for the veracity of this claim; to prove it would be impossible, just as much as I cannot prove that someone has been well amused. 416 Nachdem wir so viel über die Vortrefflichkeit jener Art, die Oper zu bilden, gesagt haben, möchte es fast paradox scheinen, wenn wir behaupteten, gerade diese in Rede stehende Armide sei vor allen Opern der Erde so mit dem genre ennueux verwandt, daß man sie für einen Sohn aus dieser Familie halten könnte; und wahrlich es gehörte Muth zu dieser Behauptung, wenn wir nicht wüßten, daß wire alle Zuschauer und Zuhörer, besonders die den vierten Akt überdauern, auf unserer Seiten hätten. Für die Wahrheit dieser Behauptung spricht also die vox populi; ein Beweis davon wäre auch unmöglich, so wenig wie ich jemanden beweisen kann, daß er sich amüsirt... habe. 415 David Charlton, “Genre and Form in French opera,” in The Cambridge Companion to Eighteenth- Century Opera, ed. Anthony DelDonna and Pierpaolo Polzonetti (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 159-60. 416 A-Z, “Armide von Gluck,” 92. The author added a footnote to the word “amüsirt” in which apologized for using the word, but he could not think of a German word that describes the frivolous manner of absorbing the beautiful. 191 After making this pronouncement, the writer undertakes an investigation as to whether or not there is a remedy for the work’s faults without transgressing on the unchallenged reverence for Gluck and Lully. Taken separately, according to A–Z, the music and the text of Armide are wonderful. The paradox, however, is that Quinault is a romantic and Gluck is an antiquarian: The main reason why Armide appears overly long to us rests in the lack of kinship between the genius of the poet (however great it shows itself in this opera) and the musician. Quinault wrote a romantic opera (nota bene, for Lully), and Gluck’s genius, true to its own particular nature, could only encounter it freely in the form of antiquity. 417 Der Hauptgrund, aus dem Armide uns zu gedehnt erschneint, liegt in dem Mangel der Verwandtschaft des Genius des Dichters (so gut er sich in dieser Oper zeigt) und des Musikers. Quinault schrieb eine romantische Oper (wohlgemerkt für Lülly) und Glucks Genius vermochte sich seiner Eigenthümlichkeit nach nur frei in der Form der Antike zu begegnen. As a result, Gluck’s music is exciting when the libretto approaches moments of antiquity, but “cools off as soon as the romantic power of the libretto predominates.” The ultimate creation is one in which the libretto and music verge toward different directions, which are beautiful in their own right, but inconsistent on a whole: Examining Quinault’s creation, every element is appropriately developed, in the right place, the exposition unfolds in a natural way, the dramatic tension increases from moment to moment, the poetry is able to accommodate music at all times; in short, all requirements can be [and] have been met. Taken on its own, the same is true for the music: individually, all the characters have been sketched poignantly and confidently, musical riches abound, 417 Ibid. 192 nowhere is the meaning of the poetry dissembled, the loftiest moments have been conceived in the grandest manner; in short, everything as one expects from Gluck. However, taken as a whole, the connections among [musical parts] as well as with the text are to be considered that element which elevates the art of painting over that of sculpture, i.e., the figures’ interfusion, and the depth of perspective in music generated by it. 418 Man gehe die Schöpfung Quinaults durch; alles ist gehörig entwickelt, steht am rechten Ort, die Exposition bildet sich natürlich, das Interesse steigert sich jeden Augenblick, an jeder Stelle ist das Gedicht der Aufnahme der Musik fähig, kurz, alle Anfoderungen die man machen kann, sind befriedigt. Dasselbe ist, einzeln betrachtet, bei der Musik der Fall; herausgenommen steht jede Figur scharf und sicher gezeichnet da, überall ist musikalischer Reichthum, nirgends der Sinn des Gedichts verhehlt, die höchsten Momente am größten aufgefaßt, kurz alles, wie man es von Gluck, erwarten kann. Dagegen im Ganzen, der Verbindung untereinander sowohl, als mit dem Gedichte betrachtet, fehlt das, was die Malerei über die Bildnerei erhebt, die Verschmelzung der Gestalten in einander, und die dadurch entstehende perspektivische Tiefe der Musik. In general, what A-Z finds lacking in Armide is ensemble pieces that would have created a far more integrated and cohesive musical drama. But, according to A-Z, these large ensemble numbers fall outside of Gluck’s musical prowess: A duet is already something for which Gluck has to take a run-up, and rarely has he succeeded with one; trios, quintets lie outside his reach. But try to envision the sublime effect that would have been created if, for example, the first act, instead of sprawling out epically in the laments of Armide, in the consoling ariettas of her confidants, the long aria for Hidraot, etc., had been unified into a large-scale piece of music in which all these [different] affects had appeared to have been merged into a whole and yet separate. Instead, this whole has been unraveled into a string of arias, which are essentially extended recitatives, and tires us: first, by means of monotonously recurring forms, second, because of the sight of so many inactive listeners on stage, and third, on account of the 418 Ibid. 193 temporal extension resulting from these faults, which prolongs the opera beyond all measure. 419 Ein Duett ist für Gluck schon ein Ding, wozu er Anlauf nimmt und kaum Einmal ist es ihm gelungen. Terzette, Quintette vollends liegen außer seinem Bereich. Man stelle sich aber die hohe Wirkung lebhaft vor, die es gemacht haben würde, wenn z. B. der erste Akt, statt in den Klagen Armidas, in den tröstenden Arietten der Vertrauten in der langen Arie Hydraots u. s. w. breit und episch auseinander zu gehn, zu einem großen Musikstück verarbeitet worden wäre, wo wir diese Wirkungen in ein Ganzes verschmolzen zugleich und doch gesondert vor Augen hätten. Statt dessen ist das Ganze in eine Kette von Arien, die hier nur verlängerte Recitative werden, aufgelöset und ermüdet uns erstlich durch die einförmig wiederkehrenden Formen, dann durch den Anblick so vieler unthätigen Zuhörer auf der Bühne und drittens endlich durch die, aus diesen Fehlern entstehende Breite in der Zeit, die die Oper über alles Maaß ausdehnt. At the end of the article, the writer points out that, similar to Armide, “…[La clemenza di Tito] is the weakest of Mozart’s operas, which is strong only in those specific passages where the text is romantic in conception.” 420 According to many 19th-century German critics, the supposed weaknesses of Tito lay in Mozart’s relapse into an archaic 18th-century opera seria libretto written by Metastasio. 421 Though Gluck made only a few changes to Quinault’s text and Mozart worked extensively with Caterino Mazzolà to modernize Metastasio’s libretto, A-Z thought that Gluck and Mozart set these librettos as is; a practice that ultimately hindered their true musical talents. In his recent writing about the 19th-century reception of Tito, John Rice elucidates some of the approaches critics took to redeem what many considered Mozart’s 419 Ibid. 420 “…Titus die schwächste Oper Mozarts geworden, die gerade nur in den romantischen Stellen des Gedichts ihre Stärke hat“; ibid. 421 John Rice, W. A. Mozart: “La clemenza di Tito” (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 120- 21. 194 weakest opera. One approach used by 19th-century critics was to divide Tito into weak and beautiful parts. 422 For Tito, critics held that Mozart focused his energy on only a few set pieces and adopted a simple style for the rest, while his student Franz Xaver Süßmayr composed the recitatives. 423 The writer for the BamZ took a similar approach to Armide; he points out the musical faults of the overture and the tediousness of act 4, but praises the music for act 3 (Armide’s summoning of Hate) and the finale of the opera (Armide’s abandonment). In act 4, Ubaldo and the Danish Knight enter Armide’s palace looking for Rinald, armed with a gold scepter to fight off her evil minions. The Danish Knight first confronts a demon disguised as his beloved Lucinde. She enchants the Danish Knight with her air “Jamais dans ces beaux lieux,” which eventually leads into the duet “Jouissons d’un bonheur extrême.” 424 Her attempts at seduction are foiled when Ubaldo strikes her with the gold scepter. Ubaldo experiences the same temptation when a demon approaches him in the guise of his beloved Melisse, and again the Danish Knight thwarts her attempt. As will be discussed below, many critics and musicians felt that the entire act was repetitious and monotonous. For performances, many opera companies cut most of act 4, typically Ubaldo’s and Melisse’s music. 425 The writer for the BamZ stated that “this [entire act] could have been charmingly realized as a quartet.” 426 422 Ibid., 125. 423 Ibid. Mozart’s student Franz Xaver Süssmayr did compose most of the simple recitatives (60). 424 Heartz, Music in European Capitals, 839. 425 In manuscript K. T. 40, used for the 1808 Viennese production of Armide, all the original dance numbers of act 4 were folded over, and pinholes dot the bottom-right page corners of Ubaldo and Melisse’s music, suggesting the exclusion of this music for some performances (the libretto retains the entire text for act 4). Gluck’s fourth-act dance numbers needed to be reinserted, as only the bass lines remain, laid in with different paper and attached to a stub. In Weimar, for example, the music director, Johann Hummel, using 195 For the overture, A-Z used Hoffmann’s assessment of the piece in his novella Ritter Gluck to begin his critique: “In his Fantasiestücke [Ritter Gluck], the ingenious Hoffmann has already pointed to the weakness of the allegro in comparison with the introduction.” 427 The writer was alluding to the very end of the novella, where the narrator heard the ghost of Gluck perform the overture to Armide at the piano: [The narrator agrees to turn the pages of the score]; then he played marvelously and masterfully, with compete chords, the majestic tempo di marcia with which the overture begins, almost completely true to the original. The allegro, however, merely had Gluck’s main thoughts woven into it. He introduced so many new and inspired twists that my astonishment grew and grew. His modulations were especially striking without becoming harsh, and he knew how to add so many melodic melismas that they seems to recurring in ever-rejuvenated form. 428 The narrator realized that the ghost was playing from a blank score, and that his performance was not merely a repetition but a mystical recreation of Gluck’s music. According to Hoffmann, this was how Gluck redeemed the failings of his overture: by performing the work in such a manner as to transcend the score and provide the listener with an entirely new creation. The writer for the BamZ, however, did not hear the overture as Hoffmann did. Instead, A-Z heard the overture as containing clunky, desperate sections that did not capture the dramatic themes of the opera: The introduction is conceived in a wholly antique manner, i.e., two caryatid that constitute the main pillars of the opera are poised before Gluck’s musically illustrative vision: one Rinald, proud and the 1777 print score, wrote the instruction at the beginning of act 4, sc. 3 “bleibt weg bis 206,” effectively cutting all of Ubaldo’s and Melisse’s duet. 426 “...könnte dies als Quartett reizend behandelt sein“; A-Z, “Armide von Gluck,” 100. 427 “Schon der geniale Hoffmann in seinen Fantasiestücken deutet auf die Schwäche des Allegro gegen die Introduktion hin“; ibid., 93. 428 E. T. A. Hoffmann, Tales of E. T. A. Hoffmann, ed. and trans. Leonard J. Kent and Elizabeth C. Knight (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1969), 3-13. 196 war-like, the other Armide, melting in love’s laments. This may explain the transition, criticized as abrupt and miraculous by semi- critics, from the march section into the (I must call it thus) feminine form of the andante. It is the God of War on his triumphal chariot, to whom imploring Love falls into [his] reins. Now the allegro starts; Gluck had sensed that yet another miraculous power is created and weaves its way into the poem: the entire secret of romanticism that reigns within it; he attempted to express it, and failed. 429 Die Introduktion ist ganz antik gedacht, d. h. zwei einfache Bildsäulen, die die Hauptpfeiler der Oper bilden, schwebten vor Glucks musikalisch anschauendem Blike. Es ist der stolz kriegerische Rinald und die in Liebesklage dahin schmelzende Armide. Dies erklärt auch wohl den, von Halb-Kritikern als schroff und wunderbar getadelten Übergang aus dem Marsch in die (so muss ich sagen) weibliche Gestalt des Andante. Es ist der Kriegsgott auf seinem Triumphwagen, dem die flehende Liebe in die Zügel fällt. Jetzt kommt das Allegro; Gluck hat gefühlt, daß noch eine andre wunderbare Gewalt in dem Gedichte schaffe und webe: das ganze Geheimniß der Romantik die darin herrscht; das hat er versucht zu geben, und es ist ihm mißlungen. Neither Hoffmann nor A–Z realized that Gluck originally composed this overture for his opera Telemaco, ossia L’isola di Circe (1765). (As stated in the first chapter, Gluck added a ten-measure transitional section that bridges the break between the overture and the first scene.) The plot of Telemaco also centers around the theme of magical enchantment, as Circe uses magic to make Ulysses her lover. 430 When Gluck composed Telemaco, he still conceived of the overture as a ceremonial piece, and it was only from Alceste on that Gluck consistently tied the overture to the plot. In actuality, Gluck intended the overture to serve as a ceremonial piece for the marriage of Joseph II to Maria Josepha of Bavaria and any attempt to superimpose a program upon the overture 429 A-Z., “Armide von Gluck,” 93. 430 Heartz, Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School, 216. 197 will come up short. Even Gluck’s great admirer Berlioz claimed that the overture was inadequate to the subject matter of both Telemaco and Armide. 431 The moments the writer A-Z praised were Gluck’s music for the summoning of Hate in the third act and that for Armide’s emotional anguish at the finale. 432 In these two passages, the music and text achieved their greatest degree of organic unity: The second moment that occurred to us has been chosen so as not to let Gluck’s and this opera’s culmination pass without voicing our continuously self-renewing reverence and admiration of the sublime genius. Who could not guess that it is the tremendous scene of the conjuration of Hatred in which the opera reaches its apogee at the end of the third act? And this thought of the poet in particular is purely sculptural [and] antique. It is a simple allegory, conceived in the manner of the ancients, which only through the sentiment of love gets a slight breath of romanticism; just as much as Gluck found in himself to express that which had inspired him. The chorus unfolds in a grand fashion as a terrible, somber background from which the two main protagonists emerge with all the greater power, one in the guise of Horror, illuminated by fire, the other in pure beauty, softly resplendent with the faint rose color of melancholy love. It is Hecate, Medea and the ominous Furies; but not the vengeful, no, the loving Medea, who, filled by the anxious foreboding of her horrible fate, nevertheless still consecrates herself to her burning love and leaves behind the gods of her country and of the hearth in order to follow the pure, almighty god who deeply burns in her heart. This unattainably sublime scene is not only the apogee of this opera, but of all of Gluck’s creations, perhaps of all dramatic music.–– How it pains us to think that, if Gluck and Quinault had been contemporaries, the entire work could have been carried out according to this conception; for it is not the subject matter that makes the opera a romantic work, but the form that is the main determinant.– Now, finally, the third moment to which we have alluded as evidence of our claim. It is the final scene. Here again both elements emerge in the most illustrative fashion. We are hardly 431 Hector Berlioz, “Telemaco: opéra italien de Gluck,” Gazette musicale de Paris 2, no. 2 (January 1835): 12. On a whole, Berlioz greatly admired the opera. 432 Again, Gluck relied heavily on some of his earlier music, particularly the ballets from Don Juan and act II, sc. 2 of Telemaco, in the creation of this act; see, Heartz, Music in European Capitals, 838-42. 198 captured as long as the whole is realized in a romantic way, i.e., until Rinald truly tears himself away. Neither his single, touching moment of lament, nor the Danish Knights can move us in relationship with the subject. It is only Armide who captures us, and never just a little; that is evident from the instant where the distracting elements have been removed and the unfortunate woman remains in lonely despair, like Niobe, bereft of everything. Now Gluck’s energetic antique power issues forth again with all its might and strikes and sparks fire like Zeus’ thunderbolt. Enthralled, the eye follows every movement of the nobly perishing figure; riveted, the ear listens for every utterance of pain and horror. Finally, despair breaks her heart. Armide, the loving Armide, is dead; only the tremendous avenging goddess, the superhuman being, is left behind in unearthly loneliness. For a moment longer still, the suffering breast’s fierce impetuousness rages in the music, but then everything collapses, shattered, and the palace and the flourishing magic gardens sink into subterranean, soundless night. That is what the sublime ending alludes to in its sustained, ominous chords. We feel that, if we should chance to set an errant wandering foot into that region, we would find a dead, bleak desert instead of Armide’s vanished splendor. 433 Der zweite Moment, dessen wir gedachten, ist von uns ausgewählt um Glucks und dieser Oper höchste Kulmination nicht vorüber gehen zu lassen, ohne unsre immer sich erneuende Ehrfurcht und Bewunderung des erhabenen Genius auszusprechen. Wer erräth nicht, daß es die gewaltige Scene der Heraufbeschwörung des Hasses ist, worin die Oper am Schluße des dritten Akts ihren höchsten Gipfel erreicht? Und gerade dieser Gedanke des Dichters ist rein plastisch, antik. Es ist eine einfache, ganz in der Weise der Alten gedachte Allegorie, die nur durch das Gefühl der Liebe einen leichten romantischen Anhauch bekommt; gerade so viel, wie Gluck in sich vorfand um das Angeregte wiederzugeben. Der Chorgestaltet sich großartig, als ein furchtbar düstrer Hintergrund aus dem die beiden Hauptfiguren desto mächtiger hervortreten, die eine in der Gestalt des Entsetzens, flammend beleuchtet, die andre in reiner Schönheit, von der matte Rosenglut wehmüthiger Liebe umglänzt. Es ist Hekate, Medea und die ahnungvollen Furien; doch nicht die rächende, nein die liebende Medea, die im bangen Vorgefühl ihres entsetzenvollen Geschicks, dennoch der Liebesglut sich weihend hingiebt und Götter des Landes und der Schwelle verläßt, um dem reinen allmächtigen Gott, der ihre Brust 433 A-Z, “Armide von Gluck,” 93, 99-100. 199 durchglüht, zu folgen. Nicht nur der Gipfel dieser Oper, nein der Gipfel aller Hervorbringungen Glucks, vielleicht aller dramatischen Musik ist diese unerreichbar große Scene. — Wie schmerzlich muß es uns berühren, wenn wir bedenken, daß, falls Gluck und Quinault Zeitgenossen gewesen, das ganze Werk in dieser Anlage hätte durchgeführt werden können; denn nicht der Stoff ist es, der die Oper romantisch macht, sondern die Form bedingt das Hauptsächlichste dabei.— Jetzt endlich zu dem dritten Momente, den wir zur Rechtfertigung unserer Behauptung angedeutet. Es ist der Schluß. Hier treten beide Elemente wiederum auf’s Anschaulichste hervor. Wir werden wenig ergriffen, so lange sich das Ganze in romantischer Weise bezeigt; das ist bis zur wirklichen Losreißung Rinalds. Weder dessen einzeln rührender Moment der Klage, noch die Dänischen Ritter können uns in Verhältniß zur Sache ergreifen. Nur Armide ist es, die uns anregt und nie gering; das zeigt sich von dem Augenblicke an, wo die störenden Elemente entfernt sind und die unglückselige gleich einer allberaubten Niobe in einsamer Verzweiflung zurückbleibt. Jetzt tritt Glucks energisch antike Kraft mit aller Macht wieder ein und trifft und zündet wie Kronions Blitzstrahl. Gefesselt folgt das Auge jeder Bewegung der erhaben untergehenden Gestalt, gebannt horcht das Ohr jedem Laute des Schmerzes und Entsetzens. Endlich bricht die Verzweiflung den Busen. Armide, die liebende Armide, ist todt; nur die furchtbare rächende Göttin, das übermächtige Wesen bleibt zurück in schauerlicher Einsamkeit. Einen Moment tobt noch der wilde Ungestüm der leidenden Brust in der Musik, aber dann stürzt alles zerschmettert zusammen, und der Pallast und die blühenden Zaubergärten versinken in unterirdische, lautlose Nacht. Darauf deutet der erhabene Schluß in langen ahnungsvollen Akkorden. Wir fühlen, sollten wir je den irrend wandernden Fuß in die Gegend setzen, statt Armidens versunkener Herrlichkeit würden wir eine wüste todte Oede antreffen. — For A–Z, it was when the libretto approached those moments of phantasmagoria, pain, and abandonment that Gluck’s musical prowess came through. Gluck, for example, could never capture the romantic intensity of Rinald and Armide, so it was when Rinald abandoned Armide that Gluck composed his most passionate and expressive music. 200 In the end, the writer blamed the inadequacies of the opera on Gluck’s circumstances: “Gluck’s shade will not be angry at our pointing out imperfections in his work, for we have not laid blame on account of frivolousness, but acknowledged it to be a result of the circumstances.—“ 434 While critics could find moments of beauty in Armide, with Romanticism’s emphasis on organic unity, isolated moments of musical excellence were not enough to redeem these operatic works on the whole. 435 Six years later, the critic Henri Castil-Blaze published a similar critique of Armide in the Journal des débats, claiming that the opera was far too antiquated for 19th-century productions. 436 As discussed below, in 1837 the debate would reemerge in Berlin, as critics began asking whether or not an 18th-century opera based on a 17th-century libretto was still relevant and appealing to 19th-century audiences. The opera that received universal praise from Marx was Iphigénie en Tauride. There are two fascinating aspects to Marx’s reception of Tauride: first, his desire to remake Tauride into the sequel of Aulide, and second, his emphasis upon Gluck’s characterization of Orestes: [Iphigénie en Tauride] should never be performed without Iphigénie en Aulide having been given first. The main protagonist [of the former work] wins her deepest meaning and most intense interest from the latter work. One must know the Iphigenia of the latter [Iphigénie en Aulide]—this heavenly image that is nothing but youthfulness, grace, beauty, love, and innocence, object of the cheers of all of Greece, in front of whose chariot dance swarms of rejoicing Greek maidens and youths, the daughter of the ruling 434 “Glucks Schatten wird über das Unvollkommene seines Werkes, das wir angedeutet, nicht zürnen; denn es ist keine leichtfertige Schuld beigemessen, sondern als aus den Umständen hervorgegangen anerkannt.”; A-Z, “Armide von Gluck,” 100. 435 For a discussion of the concept of organicism in 19th-century analysis, see Ruth A. Solie, “The Living Work: Organicism and Musical Analysis,” 19th-Century Music 4, no. 2 (Fall 1980): 147-56. 436 Mark Everist, “Gluck, Berlioz, and Castil-Blaze,” 92. 201 Agamemnon, the beloved bride of the youthful hero Achilles—in order to fully understand the former [Iphigénie en Tauride]: Iphigenia, pushed towards the sacrificial dagger by the same people, exiled to live for fifteen years among a coarse people, forced to serve in bloody temple ceremonies, not yet aware of the disruption of her family, of her mother’s murder of her spouse, her brother’s matricide. Both operas are but one—perhaps this motivated Gluck not to give the second one a formal overture; the first one is a sufficient prologue. Le [sic] mer calme—Storm: that is the overture of the second opera. But in it, a second character arrives who challenges her preeminence. This is Orestes, Gluck’s greatest creation of a character. 437 Sie sollte nie aufgeführt werden, ohne daß man Iphigenia in Aulis vorausgeschickt hätte. Der Hauptcharakter gewinnt seine höchste Bedeutung, sein höchstes Interesse aus dieser. Dort muß Iphigenia*) gekannt worden sein, dieses himmlische Bild, das nichts als Jugendfrische, Anmuth, Schönheit, Liebe, Unschuld ist, dem ganz Griechenland entgegenjubelt, vor deren Wagen die Schaaren griechischer Mädchen und Jünglinge frohlockend tanzen, die Tochter des herrschenden Agamemnon, die geliebte Braut des Jugend-Helden Achilles—wenn man die zweite Oper ganz verstehen will: Iphigenia, von demselben Volke dem Opfermesser entgegengedrängt, fünfzehn Jahre verbannt unter ein rohes Volk, zu einem blutigen Tempeldienste gezwungen—noch der Zerrüttung ihres Hauses, des Gatten- und Muttermordes unwissend. Beide Opern sind nur eine—dies hat vielleicht Gluck mit veranlaßt, der zweiten keine förmliche Ouvertüre zu geben; die erste war schon der genügende Prolog. Le mer calme—Sturm: das ist die Ouvertüre der zweiten. Aber in ihr tritt ein neuer Charakter auf, der Iphigenien den ersten Rang streitig macht. Dies ist Orestes, Glucks größte Charakterschöpfung. Regarding the first aspect, Marx manipulated the plot of Gluck’s Aulide slightly so that it could be the precursor to Tauride. In 1774, Du Roullet and Gluck ended Aulide with the chief priest, Calchas, telling the Greeks that the goddess Diana no longer demanded the sacrifice of Iphigenia. In 1775, they revised the ending: the goddess Diana 437 A. B. Marx, “Iphigenia auf Tauris (Vier Karnevaloper gegeben am 13. Februar),” BamZ 1, no. 7 (February 1824): 68. 202 appears, staying Agamemnon’s sacrifice of his daughter Iphigenia. 438 Diana wishes happiness to the young lovers, Iphigenia and Achilles, and the opera ends with a celebration of their impending marriage. Gluck and Du Roullet based their opera on Jean-Baptiste Racine’s play of 1674. 439 Many late 18th- and early 19th-century German literary figures found that Racine made Greek drama and mythology too French–– specifically reflecting the France of Le Roi soliel. 440 Marx either assumed that Gluck based his Iphigenia operas on Euripides’ Iphigenia plays (only Tauride is based on Euripides, by way of Claude Guimond de La Touche’s play) or ignored the fact that Aulide was based on Racine’s play. 441 In Euripides’ Iphigenia in Aulis, the play ends with the goddess Diana raising Iphigenia into the heavens, leaving the hind of a deer in her place. In his Iphigenia in Tauris, Euripides has Iphigenia tell the audience that Diana brought her to Tauris, where the Scythians force her to carry out human sacrifices in the name of the goddess. Wagner codified this connection of Gluck’s opera to Euripides’ play when he revised Aulide in 1847, whereby Diana (Artemis in Wagner’s version) 438 Though some German opera houses used the 1774 version (for example, the 1821 production in Munich), the Berlin opera companies staged the 1775 version. 439 Julie E. Cumming, “Gluck’s Iphigenia Operas: Sources and Strategies,” in Opera and the Enlightenment, ed. Thomas Bauman and Marita Petzoldt McClymonds (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 225. 440 August Wilhelm Schlegel wrote a comparison of Racine and Euripides in Vergleichung der “Phädra” des Racine mit der des Euripides, trans. and ed. Heinrich von Collin (Vienna: Anton Pichler, 1808). Collin added disparaging remarks about Racine in the footnotes. In a letter to Goethe from 1799, Friedrich Schiller also made some disparaging remarks about Racine’s Iphigénie en Aulide, reprinted in Briefwechsel zwischen Schiller und Goethe, ed. Adolph Kohut (Leipzig: Spamerschen Buchdruckerei, n.d.), 332. For additional analysis of Racine’s reception in Germany, see Norbert Miller, “Schillers Nachdichtung der Iphigenie in Aulis von Euripides: Das ideale Drama des Klassizismus,” in Schiller und die Antike, ed. Paolo Chirarini und Walter Hinderer (Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 2008): 111-66. It is worth noting that Racine relied on Pausanias’ version of the Iphigenia story, in which the character Eriphile is revealed to be the second Iphigenia and commits suicide upon the sacrificial altar. 441 Marx may have been unaware that Gluck based Aulide on Racine’s play. 203 whisks Iphigenia off to Tauris. 442 Yet, making Tauride the sequel to Aulide undercuts the distinct dramaturgy of each opera. The problem is that nowhere in the opera Tauride does Iphigenia explain what happened to her husband, Achilles. 443 Though it did not seem to bother Marx, if Tauride is the direct sequel of Aulide, without any changes to the libretto or score, there emerges an inconsistent and contradictory storyline. 444 The reason why Marx wanted to make Tauride the sequel to Aulide was to demonstrate to his readers Gluck’s long-range planning within his compositional process. The short overture of Tauride proved to Marx that Gluck conceived of this opera as a sequel to Aulide. 445 Some opera companies performed the overture to Aulide before Tauride, which not only reinforced the connection between the two operas but also provided audiences with a longer overture. 446 For Marx, the moment that highlights the musical connection between Tauride and Aulide is the quotation of the chorus “Que d’attraits, que de majesté” from act 1 of Aulide in act 2 of Tauride: [Due to the tragedy of her family and her exile], we are constantly reminded of the wonderful, long-vanished youth of Iphigenia— 442 Christa Jost, introduction to Iphigenia in Aulis, by Christoph Gluck, edited by Richard Wagner in Iphigenia in Aulis Bearbeitung der Tragédie: opéra en trois actes "Iphigénie en Aulide" von Christoph Willibald Gluck, WWV 77; Konzertschluss zur Ouvertüre: WWV 87; mit einer Dokumentation zu Wagners deutscher Ubersetzung des Librettos und seiner weitern Auseinandersetzung mit dem Werk in vol. 20, Sämtliche Werke, ed. Carl Dahlhaus (Mainz: Schott, 2010), viii. 443 Though it could be argued that Iphigenia arrived in Tauris after Achilles died at Troy, nowhere is this mentioned in the opera. Julian Rushton points out that Du Rollet printed a justification of the 1775 revival in his “Lettre sur les drames-opéra,” in which he claimed that Diane should appear at the end of Aulide, so that she could transport Iphigenia to Tauris. Du Rollet had begun working on the libretto to Tauride, which, according to Rushton, may have caused the confusion (‘Royal Agamemnon’: the Two Versions of Gluck’s Iphigénie en Aulide, in Music and the French Revolution, ed. Malcolm Boyd [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991], 25). 444 Racine wrote a “Plan du premier acte d’Iphigénie en Tauride” but died before completing the project. 445 Both Daniel Heartz (Music in European Capitals, 855) and Julie Cumming (“Gluck’s Iphigenia operas,” 225) point out that the earlier Ifigenia in Tauride opera of Gian Francesco de Majo begins with a storm scene as well. Additionally, Gluck borrowed the overture from his opéra-comique L’Île de Merlin. 446 See Chorley’s statement above, Modern German Music, 246. Hoffmann also remarks on the performance practice in his novella Ritter Gluck of 1809. 204 most touchingly at the funeral ceremony she conducts for Orestes, whom she believes dead. Here, the same melody returns with which the people of Greece once expressed their love and admiration for the happy princess. But how it writhes through the most melancholy modulations upon its return! This surely constitutes one of the most beautiful features a composer has ever succeeded in creating.—In his last moments, Orestes’ fate unites with Iphigenia’s; both of them are the fruit, or I would like to say quintessence, of their former lives, their deeds, their suffering. 447 Darum werden wir bei Iphigenia fortwährend an die schöne, längst entschwundene Jugend erinnert — am rührendsten bei der Todtenfeier, die sie dem vermeintlich dahin geschiedenen Orest begeht. Hier kehrt dieselbe Melodie wieder, mit der in Aulis die Völker Griechenlands ihre Bewunderung und Liebe der glücklichen Fürstentochter aussprachen. [Music Example] Aber wie windet sie sich bei der Wiederkehr durch die wehmüthigsten Modulationen! Gewiß liegt hierin einer der schönsten Züge, die je einem Komponisten gelungen sind.– Mit Iphigeniens vereinigt sich Orestes Geschick in seinen letzten Moment; jeder derselben ist die Frucht, ich möchte sagen, die Quintessenz seines vergangenen Lebens, seiner Thaten, seiner Leiden. The choral melody from “Que d’attraits, que de majesté” of Aulide, which Marx quotes to demonstrate the musical similarities of the two works, was the basis for the chorus “Contemplez ces tristes apprêts” in Tauride, sung by the choir of priestesses in response 447 Marx, “Iphigenia auf Tauris,” 68. [Music Example 2.2: “Quel d’attraits, que de majesté,” act 1, sc. 6, Iphigénie en Aulide example from the BamZ.] 205 to Iphigenia’s aria “Ô mahlheureuse Iphigénie.” The melody is in 3/4 time in Aulide and is in 3/8, with added ornamentation, in Tauride (Music Examples 2.3a-b). Gluck based these two choruses on the second section of music from his setting of the aria “Se mai senti spirarti sul volto” from La clemenza di Tito (1752). 448 Gluck reused 448 Cummings, “Gluck’s Iphigenia operas,” 226. Whether Marx knew of this self-borrowing at this point in his career is difficult to determine. Carl Friedrich Cramer wrote about the reuse of the music from “Se mai senti” in Aulide and Tauride in “Verzeichniß,” Magazine der Music 2, no. 2 (1786): 1352-53. (Cramer believes the aria originated from Ezio, not Tito.) In Hildegard von Hohenthal, Wilhelm Heinse also mentions Gluck’s reuse of “Se mai senti” in Tauride (Hildegard von Hohenthal [Berlin: Voss, 1795] reprinted as Hildegard von Hohenthal: Musikalische Dialogen, ed. Werner Keil [Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 2002], 258; citation from the reprint edition). Yet throughout the writings of the BamZ there is little to no Music Example 2.3a: “Que d’attraits, que de majesté” from act 1, sc. 6, Iphigénie en Aulide (1774), example from Wotquenne, Catalogue thématique, page 108. Music Example 2.3b: “Contemplez ces tristes” from act 2, sc. 6, Iphigénie en Tauride (1779), example from Wotquenne, Catalogue thématique, page 143 206 the first section of music from “Se mai senti” to create the aria “Ô malheureuse Iphigénie,” and the second section of the aria became the chorus “Contemplez ces tristes apprêts.” But Klaus Hortschansky points outs that “Que d’attraits, que de majesté” from Aulide, in fact has only a fleeting resemblance to the music from “Se mai senti,” and so does not constitute an actual borrowing 449 In Gluck’s correspondence (insofar as it survives) with the librettist of Tauride, Nicolas-François Guillard, there was no mention of trying to connect the music or the plot of Aulide with that of Tauride. Gluck did write a letter to Guillard with instructions to write new French words for the aria “Se mai senti.” 450 This aria is from the last act of La clemenza di Tito, when Sesto bids farewell to Vitellia as he is escorted to his execution. In Tauride, Iphigenia sings “Ô malheureuse Iphigenie” as she and her priestess prepare Orestes’ funeral rites. There is a dramatic relationship between La clemenza di Tito and Tauride in that death hangs in the air during both scenes. 451 (Sextus believes he will be executed, but is saved at the last minute; Iphigenia believes Orestes is dead, but finds out otherwise.) Furthermore, Gluck set the text of “Se mai senti” with a simple, unornamented vocal line and dissonant passages in the accompaniment. 452 These mention of Gluck’s self-borrowing. Marx does cite the borrowing in his biography Gluck und die Oper vol. 2 (Berlin: Otto Janke, 1863; reprint, Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1980), 269. 449 Klaus Hortchansky, Parodie und Entlehnung im Schaffen Christoph Willibald Glucks, Analecta Musicologica, vol. 13, (Cologne, A. Volk, 1973), 10-11. 450 For Gluck’s letter to Guillard, see Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 188-89. Du Rollet began work on the libretto, but for unknown reasons Guillard took over the project (187). 451 Heartz, Music in European Capitals, 861. Cumming has noted the dramatic relationship between those earlier operas and pantomimes from which music was used in Gluck’s Tauride, particularly music from Sémiramis in the fourth act of Tauride (“Gluck’s Iphigenia operas,” 232-33). 452 There is a famous anecdote in which Neapolitan musical connoisseurs took the aria to the composer and teacher Francesco Durante to hear his judgment. Durante said that, though the aria defies all rules, the composer had created an aria that he wished he had composed himself (Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth- Century Portrait, 33-35). Karl Ditters von Dittersdorf recalls that members of the Viennese public wanted 207 two traits fit perfectly with the dramatic situation of Tauride: the dissonant passages underscore the sorrowful mood of Iphigenia and her priestesses, and the unornamented vocal line projects a clear, poignant setting of the text. By reusing the music from La clemenza di Tito, Gluck consciously or unconsciously created an intertextual reference between Aulide and Tauride. This musical allusion, in turn, provided Marx with the window he needed to prove Gluck’s adherence to musical unity over two different operatic works. The second aspect of Tauride that fascinated Marx was Gluck’s characterization of Orestes. Additionally, Marx believes that the entire success or failure of the opera’s performance depends on how well the actor portrays Orestes: One cannot fail to acknowledge that the success of this opera, more than that of any other, depends on the portrayal of the protagonists, particularly that of Orestes. The actor who has the honor of portraying him therefore has the pressing duty to study his role seriously. He will never fulfill it unless he manages to carry [this portrayal] out in as unified a manner as Gluck composed it. Individual moments of beauty will not suffice at all, for the strength of the role does not reside in the detail; it is impossible for him to comprehend it [the role] unless he seeks to understand the music alongside the words, indeed even before the words, and form a clear mental picture of Orestes’ psychological state at every moment, thus following Gluck’s entire artistic process. 453 Es kann nicht verkannt werden, daß der Erfolg dieser Oper, mehr wie der jeder andern, von der Darstellung der Hauptpersonen, vorzüglich des Orest abhängt. Der Schauspieler, dem die Ehre dieser Darstellung wird, hat daher die dringende Pflicht, sie zu seinem ernsten Studium zu machen. Er wird to hear this controversial aria that had caused such a stir in Naples (The Autobiography of Karl von Dittersdorf, trans. A. D. Coleridge [London: Richard Bentley and Son, 1896], 46). 453 Marx, “Iphigenia auf Tauris,” 69. In many ways, the purpose of this article about Tauride was to critique the performance of Orestes by the baritone Lebrech Gottlieb Rebenstein. Marx’s analysis of act 2 was an attempt to demonstrate that the actor failed to grasp Gluck’s character. 208 nimmermehr genügen, wenn es ihm nicht gelungen ist, seine Rolle so einheitvoll durchzuführen, als Gluck sie komponirt hat. Einzelne schöne Momente genügen hier durchaus nicht, denn die Kraft der Rolle liegt nicht in Einzelheiten; er wird sie aber unmöglich in ihrer wahren Bedeutung auffassen, wenn er nicht neben—ja vor den Worten die Komposition wohl erwägt und, so der ganzen Kunstschöpfung Glucks folgend, sich den Zustand des Orest in jedem Momente psychologisch klar macht. Marx focuses on Gluck’s characterization of Orestes in act 2, sc. 1-4, in which Orestes and Pylades are imprisoned, awaiting their execution. Within these scenes, the audience witnesses the anguish of Orestes, who was a proud descendent of a king, but who is now broken: Orestes is the darkest, most terrible figure in the musical world. The connoisseur cannot cease to find new traits of the greatest genius in the realization of this role; the actor cannot exhaust the study of it. He is the descendant of kings, with whom gods often consorted, the son of the god-like Agamemnon. Strength and pride have impressed their seal upon the brow of the splendid youth. Then an overpowering fate destroys his happiness, strength, and life. The gods decree that the murder of his father must be avenged; his fearful matricide call forth the Eumenides to become his retinue. The opera contains no reconciliation, no compensation. 454 Orestes ist die dunkelste, furchtbarste Erscheinung in der musikalischen Welt. Der Kenner kann nicht aufhören, neue Züge des größten Genie’s in der Bildung dieser Rolle zu entdecken, der Schauspieler kann das Studium derselben nicht erschöpfen. Es ist der Sprosse von Königen, mit denen Götter sich oft verbanden, der Sohn des göttergleichen Agamemnon. Kraft und Stolz haben ihr Siegel der Stirn des herrlichen Jünglings aufgedrückt. Da zerstört ein übermächtiges Geschick Glück und Kraft und Leben. Des Vaters Ermordung muß—so wollen die Götter—gerächt werden, der fürchterliche Muttermord ruft die Eumeniden in Orestes Gefolge. Die Oper enthält keine Aussöhnung, keine Ausgleichung. 454 Ibid., 68. 209 Stephen Meyer notes that the prison scene was a popular dramatic device in the operas of the late 18th and early 19th centuries, particularly in those operas composed around the time of the French Revolution. 455 These moments of captivity transform external action into an internal psychological drama. 456 An excellent example is Beethoven’s Fidelio (third version of 1814), in which the prisoner Florestan transcends the gloom of his incarceration through an angelic vision of his Leonora. 457 The prison in Tauride is a complex cell made up of the physical prison, the Furies haunting Orestes, and his own mental anguish over the act of matricide. For Marx, the prison setting in the second act of Tauride creates the perfect moment when the audience experiences Orestes internal struggles––yet, this moment must be acted perfectly or the impact of the moment would be completely lost upon the viewer. As Marx reads act 2, sc. 1, Orestes is completely withdrawn into himself. Only when Pylades utters his name does Orestes stir himself to ponder what horrors the gods have in store for him. When Pylades asks him to explain, according to Marx, Orestes 455 Stephen Meyer, “Terror and Transcendence in the Operatic Prison, 1790-1815,” Journal of American Musicological Society 55, no. 33 (Winter 2002): 481. 456 Ibid., 478. 457 In his 1859 biography of Beethoven, Marx directly linked Florestan’s “Kerkervision” with that of Tauride (Ludwig van Beethoven Leben und Schaffen, vol. 1 [Berlin: Otto Janke, 1859, 1884], 382). Marx also notices similarities between the music of Beethoven’s Florestan and that of Bach’s depiction of Christ’s lamentations. Berlioz briefly remarked upon the similarities of the two prison scenes in Fidelio and Tauride in his review of the performance of Fidelio at the Théâtre-Lyrique, “Fidelio: opéra en trois actes de Beethoven,” A travers chants: études musicales, adorations, boutades et critiques 2nd. ed. (Paris: Michel Levy Fréres, 1872), 82. My statements in the above paragraph and this footnote are not meant to uncover some intertextual reference between the music of Beethoven and Gluck. That course of study was undertaken by Theophil Antonicek in “Beethoven und die Gluck-Tradition,” in Beethoven-Studien: Festgabe der Österreischen Akademie der Wissenschaft zum 200. Geburtstag von Ludwig van Beethoven (Vienna: Bohlau, 1970), 195-220. Briefly, Beethoven likely witnessed performances of Gluck’s operas from around 1807 to 1810 when the Hofoper staged a series of Gluck’s works under Antonio Salieri’s direction. Additionally, Czerny recounts an anecdote according to which French officers, when in Vienna in 1805, visited Beethoven and he played through the score of Tauride while they sang the choruses and arias (Thayer’s Life of Beethoven, rev. and ed. Elliot Forbes [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1967; paperback 1970], 391). 210 responds with “a cry, ‘je t’ai donne la mort,’ without intonation, almost inarticulate.” 458 With his act of matricide and the horror of the furies on his mind, Orestes breaks out in the forceful aria “Dieux! qui me poursuivez!” 459 Marx asserts that the language and orchestration in this aria all come together to form a complete characterization of Orestes’ anguish: The sound of the language, the provocative trumpet part which repeats the same figure over and over, the plunging motion in the orchestra—everything fuses to become the highest expression of the most despairing anguish, marks this aria as the point of the greatest tension which must now be followed by exhaustion. 460 Klang der Sprache, Rythmus, die herausfodernde, stets auf einen Punkt schlagende Trompete, die hinabreißende Bewegung des Orchesters—alles vereinigt sich zum höchsten Ausdrucke des verzweiflungsvollsten Schmerzes, bezeichnet diese Arie als den Punkt der höchsten Kraftanspannung, der nun Erschöpfung folgen muß. Marx stressed that Gluck created this heroic figure not through verbose arias, but through compact, poignant musical setting of the text. Marx first pointed out that Orestes’ twofold repetition of the name Agamemnon in act 2, sc. 5, had a far greater dramatic impact than any aria: [Mr. Rebenstein] accomplishes excellent things; indeed, some moments are harrowing; as such, we point out his first dialogue with Iphigenia, who asks him about her homeland and Agamemnon. Agamemnon! cries the misfortunate man, to whose mind this name calls the dismal fate of his kin, his mother’s crime, his terrible deed of vengeance; Agamemnon! he repeats, without taking in the reply, with such an expression of horror, of the most terrifying anguish, which must surely deeply move every heart. Such a word countervails many an aria. 458 “ein Schrei: je t’ai donne la mort, ohne Accent, fast unartikulirt“; Marx, “Iphigenia auf Tauris,” 70. 459 Heartz, Music in European Capitals, 858. 460 Marx, “Iphigenia auf Tauris,” 70. 211 Er leistet sehr viel Gutes, ja einige Momente sind erschütternd; als solchen zeichnen wir den in seiner ersten Unterredung mit Iphigenia aus, die ihn um das Vaterland und Agamemnon befragt. Agamemnon! ruft der Unglückliche, dem bei diesem Namen das schwarze Geschick seines Hauses, das Verbrechen der Mutter, seine schreckliche Rachethat vor Augen tritt; Agamemnon! wiederholt er, ohne die Zwischenrede zu vernehmen, mit einem Accent des Entsetzens, des furchtbarsten Schmerzes, der gewiß jedes Herz erschüttert. Ein solches Wort wiegt manche Arie auf. According to Marx, Gluck captured the entirety of Orestes’ family history and psychological struggle through this simple repetition. When Iphigenia and Orestes (unaware of their kinship) interact for the first time, she asks him about her homeland and Agamemnon. Orestes then repeats the name, making only a subtle change: his first utterance of the name ends with a third; his second repetition ends with a tritone (Music Example 2.4). With this change of interval, Gluck revealed more about Orestes than any aria could. The second moment that intrigued Marx was Gluck’s simple orchestral accompaniment of the line “le calme rentre dans mon cœur.” Gluck belied Orestes’ words by accenting the downbeat and following it with an eighth-note syncopation in the ? c ‰ J œ b J œ J œ ˙ Ag a mem non! J œ b J œ J œ Ag a mem ˙ n non! - - - - - - Music Example 2.4: “Agamemnon,” m. 38, mm. 40-41, from act 2, sc. 5, Iphigénie en Tauride (1779), Académie Royale de Musique, Paris, in Sämtliche Werke 212 violas. Writing about the opera’s premiere in 1779, the reviewer for the Mercure de France immediately recognized Gluck’s enthralling setting of this text: But listen to the instruments; they will tell you that this is exhaustion, not repose. They will tell you that Orestes has lost not the awareness of his troubles, but the strength to give them voice. Indeed, his melody is the more admirable, the more true, in that it extends over a very small range of harmonies and has no periodic phrasing; his melody is accompanied by the violas, which lash the subdued, remorseful voice, while the violins express profound agitation, mingled with sighs and tears. 461 Like this French reviewer, Marx frequently remarked upon and praised Gluck’s ability to convey a character’s psychological state with simple accompaniment and subtle changes in harmony or melody. 462 Marx’s analysis of this scene is as follows: Long moments of silence everywhere— à l’horreur, qui m’obsède, quelle tranquillité succede— Unfortunate man, it is not [tranquility]: it is the fatigue that will resolve in death. le calme rentre dans mon cœur— What? Could this be peace? Is it not the last pulse beating through his empty veins—what dying sounds—are not the tormenting shades approaching already—is this not the sound of the softly treading specters of horror? How terribly this endlessly repeating note [in the viola] drills deep into ear and heart, and meanwhile le calme rentre dans mon cœur, 461 Mercure de France, 15 June 1779, trans. and cited in Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 200. 462 David Charlton points out that this type of disloyal or contradictory operatic accompaniment existed in the opéra-comique repertoire prior to Iphigénie en Tauride (“‘Envoicing’ the Orchestra: Enlightenment Metaphors in Theory and Practice,” in French Opera 1730-1830: Meaning and Media [Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000], 24, an expansion of “L’orchestre et la métaphore du vivant de Mozart,” in Mozart: Les chemins de l’Europe, ed. Brigitte Massin [Strasbourg, 1997], 1-32). 213 Orestes sinks into the sleep of death. Every note points to this, and this course of events is a physical and psychological necessity. — 463 lange Pausen überall—à l’horreur, qui m’obsède, quelle tranquillité succede– Unglücklicher, sie ist es nicht: es ist auflösende Ermattung zum Tode — le calme rentre dans mon coeur– Wie? dieses wäre Friede? Ist das nicht der letzte Pulsschlag der ausgeleerten Adern—welche sterbende Töne—nahen nicht schon die quälenden Schattengebilde—ist das nicht der leise Fußtritt der Schreckengeister? Wie furchtbar bohrt sich dieser eine ewig wiederkehrende Ton in Ohr und Herz und hierzu le calme rentre dans mon coeur. Orestes sinkt in Todesschlaf hin. Mit jedem Tone ist hierhin gedeutet, physisch und psychologisch nothwendig ist dieser Gang begründet. — Marx concluded his analysis of this scene with a condemnation of Rebenstein’s performance, because the actor fell on the stage, stood up, strolled around, sat down and waited for the Furies to appear. For Marx, Gluck’s sensitive approach to operatic composition was diametrically opposed to that of the bombastic operas of the 19th century. In 1825, an anonymous reporter from Darmstadt (likely Marx) wrote a comparative critique of Spontini’s Ferdinand Cortez and Gluck’s Iphigenia in Tauris in response to recent performances of each. Though it cannot be said with certainty whether Marx was the author, the critique does encompass some of his personal aesthetic and philosophical beliefs. Marx often avoided competitive analysis of two works and their respective composers, and hence in this critique of Cortez and Tauride, the writer states: But many readers cry out: ‘We want a critique! You have placed the two foes against each other, Iphigenia and Cortez; we want to 463 Marx, “Iphigenia auf Tauris,” 70. 214 hear who was victorious!’ Ah, I have not placed them against each other, I have peacefully placed them next to each other. 464 Doch mancher Leser ruft: ‘eine Kritik wollen wir! Sie haben da zwei Feinde einander gegenüber gestellt Iphigenia und Kortez, wir wollen hören, wer gesiegt hat!’ Ei, ich habe sie nicht einander gegenüber, ich habe sie friedlich neben einander gestellt. He continued with an analysis of the two works but devoted the majority of the essay to Spontini’s Cortez. He shaped the critique as a dialogue between the “Frag-Igel” (Questioning Hedgehog), the “Unterschwengliche” (Under-swinging), the “beide Ausserschwengliche” (two Utterly-swinging), and “der Überschwengliche” (Over- swinging). In general, the Frag-Igel complained about “the noise” in Spontini’s operas. 465 The Überschwengliche enters at the end to state that: There are two approaches to realizing art in performance: One seeks to represent in a concrete way everything that is contained within a subject in order to affect [the listener’s] feeling, mind, and even reason; there is little consideration for the listener’s imagination. The French have a penchant for this, and it is plainly evident that Spontini is aiming at this mode of representation; hence his constant vigorous, seething activeness; as a result, everything one could call ‘calm’ remains at a distance. But there is yet another way of realizing art in performance, which makes a greater effort to have an effect on the listener’s imagination in order to guide him into an internal, loftier realm. But only delicately characteristic hints can entice imagination; it flees from shimmer and shine as it flees from everything concrete, and closes its eye. For this reason, in Iphigénie [en Tauriide] Gluck was capable of illustrating Orestes’ innermost state of mind by means of a single four-note figure in the viola part [in “Le calme rentre dans mon coeur”]. By means of this figure, we see him before the altar, while inside him a dark horizon extends all around him; the 464 [A. B. Marx?], “Darmstadt den 28 August 1825: Iphigenia, Fernand Kortez. (Neue Bearbeitung),” BamZ 2, no. 39 (28 September 1825): 313. Pederson notes in “A. B. Marx, Berlin Concert Life” (page 95) that Marx often avoided combative, comparative critiques in the journal. 465 Nicola Gess notes that critics often accused Spontini’s music, especially Olympia, of being too noisy; see “Gewalt der Musik Literatur und Musikkritik um 1800” (Ph. D. diss., Princeton University, 2005), 248- 89. 215 horrors of the Underworld, gathering a thunderstorm, flash through his conscience. The pregnant haze of his frightened imagination is ready to bear its fruit, and the Eumenides emerge from the infernal night, as does his mother. — Spontini would not content himself with entrusting that thunder-pregnant horizon to his listeners’ imaginations, but he seeks, as is evidenced by Olympia, to represent it externally, in a concrete fashion. — Both approaches are artistically legitimate, and both can be right. 466 Es giebt zweierlei Weisen der Kunstgestaltung überhaupt: die eine sucht alles, was in einem Gegenstande liegt, materiell zu versinnlichen, um dadurch auf das Gefühl, den Verstand und selbst auf die Vernunft zu wirken; die Phantasie des Zuhörers wird weniger berücksichtiget. Dieser sind die Franzosen zugethan; und es ist unverkennbar daß Spontini diese Darstellweise sich zum Ziele gesetzt hat; daher die stete kräftige, wallende Thätigkeit, daher alles was Ruhe heißt entfernt geblieben. Es giebt aber auch eine andre Weise der Kunstgestaltung, die mehr auf die Phantasie des Zuhörers zu wirken trachtet, um ihn dadurch in eine innere, höhere Welt zu führen. Aber nur durch zarte karakterische Anklänge wird die Phantasie herbei gelockt, vor Schimmer und Glanz wie vor allem Materiellen flieht sie, und verschließt ihr Auge. Deswegen hat Gluck in der Iphigenie es vermocht, vermittelst einer einzigen viertonigen Figur auf der Altviole uns den tiefinnersten Gemüthzustand des Orestes anschaubar zu machen. Durch diese Figur sehen wir ihn am Fuße des Altars, sein Inneres einen finsteren Horizont um ihn verbreitend; die Grauen der Unterwelt zucken in seinem Gewissen gewittersammelnd herauf. Die schwangeren Nebel seiner geängsteten Einbildung wollen gebähren, und die Eumeniden treten hervor aus der höllischen Nacht, und seine Mutter. — Spontini würde sich nicht begnügen diesen gewitterschwangern Horizont blos der Phantasie des Zuhörers anzuvertrauen, sondern er sucht ihn, wie in der Olympia sich nachweiset, materiell zu veräußerlichen. — — Beide Gestaltungsweisen sind kunstrechtmäßig und jede kann richtig sein. The writer concluded that Spontini’s operas exhibit the characteristic of “externalized forms” (äusserliche Gestaltung), in which the horrors were made apparent to the listener through heavy orchestration, overly chromatic melodic and harmonic writing, and 466 “Darmstadt den 28 August 1825: Iphigenia, Fernand Kortez,” 315. 216 extreme dynamic ranges. 467 The subtleties within Gluck’s music required listeners to actively engage with the music and allow their imagination to recreate the horrors plaguing Orestes. The writer concludes that both approaches to dramatic compositions are valid and that Spontini’s works also have their own “internal spiritual content” (innern geistigen Gehalt) that captures an expressive truth. While Marx asserts that Gluck’s Tauride was a dramatically effective work through very simple means, the performances he witnessed in Berlin tried to align Gluck’s opera with newer operas through the addition of elaborate costumes, sets, and gimmicky props. In the closing paragraph of the 1824 essay on Tauride, Marx condemned the Berlin Hofoper for staging the Furies in act 2 in an ostentatious and anachronistic fashion: Finally a question for the opera direction. How, within the context of the noble production of a Greek tragedy, can such a distasteful and ridiculous representation of the Furies be justified, which offends and torments the [spectator’s] eye in every performance of Iphigénie and Armide? Is the intention to provoke disgust and derision instead of horror? In Gluck’s time, the Furies may perhaps have been portrayed in such a manner. Well, we have not yet forgotten the time when Ariadne and Iphigenia could enter the stage wearing hoopskirts, etc., and in the mystery plays and farces of the 15 th century, still worse things happened. But our time and our city can expect, from such artistically minded and well informed directors, liberation from old-fashioned sins of taste and art. 468 Zum Schluß eine Frage an die Direktion? Wie kann mit der edlen Darstellung einer griechischen Tragödie diese eben so widrige als 467 Ibid., 316. Oddly, in the 18th century, the critic Johann Carl Spazier and others chastised Gluck for his orchestrations, which they found too “geräuschvoll.” “Etwas über Gluckische Musik, auf die Oper Iphigenia in Tauris auf dem Berlinschen Nationaltheater, Berlin 1795,” reprinted in Der critische Musicus an der Spree: Berliner Musikschrifttum von 1748-1799. Eine Dokumentation, ed. H. G. Ottenberg (Leipzig, 1984), 333. 468 Marx, Iphigenia auf Tauris, 70. 217 lächerliche Darstellung der Furien bestehen, mit der das Auge in jeder Iphigenien- und Armiden-Vorstellung beleidigt und gequält wird? Will man Ekel und Lachen statt Schauer erregen? Vielleicht hat man die Furien zu Glucks Zeit eben so dargestellt. Nun, die Zeit ist nicht vergessen, wo Ariadne und Iphigenie im Reifrocke u. s. w. auftreten durften und im 15ten Jahrhundert geschahen in den Mysterien und Possenspielen noch ganz andre Dinge. Unsere Zeit aber und unsere Stadt darf von den so kunstsinnigen und unterrichteten Direktoren Befreiung von alten Geschmacks- und Kunstsünden erwarten. These comments reflect the desire among the early Romantic philosophers and artists to stage dramas with costumes and sets that fit properly into the historical period and location of the play. In his Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, August Wilhelm Schlegel stated that the Furies’ torment of Orestes was a symbolic struggle of conscience, not the actual manifestation of hellish deities. 469 Furthermore, in Schlegel’s understanding, the Greek playwrights presented these mythologies in the simple costumes and sets of the heroic age so that spectators could enter into the spirit of the narrative and witness this mythological time in its true character. 470 The French, however, dressed Greek heros and gods in “the refinement of the fashionable world and court manners of the day.” 471 On the Berlin stage, Marx witnessed a phantasmagoric representation in the French manner, in which the Furies appeared in the refinement of the 19th century, not the garb of antiquity. Such a staging prevented audiences from fully engaging in Gluck’s music and freeing their imaginations. 469 August Wilhelm Schlegel, Vorlesungen über schöne Literatur und Kunst (Berlin lecture, 1801), 104, cited and translated in Burton Feldman and Robert D. Richardson, The Rise of Modern Mythology 1680- 1860 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1972), 347. 470 Ibid., 348. 471 Ibid. 218 Marx’s analysis and interpretation of Tauride encapsulate what he valued in great compositions. As Scott Burnham notes, Marx emphasized thematic economy and argued against a proliferation of different themes. 472 In his analysis of the second act of Tauride, Marx argues that Gluck neither strung together a series of well-defined aria forms nor introduced a new musical theme for each different dramatic situation, but instead, Gluck constructed every musical idea within the second act from a basic, germinating idea that characterized Orestes’ torment and exhaustion. In an 1827 review of Schlesinger’s printed vocal score of Tauride, Marx told readers to examine the opera in order to study Gluck’s excellent text setting, in which each word was positioned with scrupulous care and could not be exchanged for another. 473 Moreover, Marx believed that Gluck’s music redeemed the French language, and his text settings could be a model for young composers in their setting of the German language: One could [endeavor to] prove to our young people (who waste their time with French and Italian in order to be able to read [Jean-Pierre Claris] Florian, the water-bearer [Stéphanie de] Genlis and Tasso’s Aminta instead of Goethe, Schiller and Jean Paul) that the most vigorous use of the former language [i.e. French] can be found in Gluck; one could remind those who despise that miserable, threadbare, unrhythmical, impure-sounding French language, that a vigorous mind can ennoble even such material; one could prove that in Gluck’s mouth even those sounds had been filled with irresistible, inimitable expression of passion, and monotony and lack of rhythm with verve and powerfully poignant rhythm; then one could ask German composers—with the exception of Sebastian Bach—what they had done for their 472 Burnham, Beethoven Hero, 72; see also Janet Levy, “Covert and Causal Values in Recent Writing About Music,“ Journal of Musicology 5 (1987): 3-27. 473 Celia Applegate notes that Marx encouraged music students to look at foreign works in order to shape their own compositions; see “How German Is It? Nationalism and the Idea of Serious Music in the Early Nineteenth Century,” 19th-Century Music 21, no. 3 (Spring 1998): 280. 219 inexhaustibly rich, pure, delicate, vigorous language, which is soulful through and through and already poetic in itself, in order to guide Gluck’s idea back to their homeland. 474 Man könnte unserer modernen Jügend (die doch einmal ihre Zeit am Französischen und Italienischen todtschlägt, um Florian und die Wasserträgerin Genlis und Tasso's Amintas statt Göthe, Schiller, Jean Paul zu lesen) nachweisen, wie sie in Gluck die kräftigste Auslegung jener Sprache findet; man könnte die nicht unbedachten Verächter der armen, ausgelebten, unrythmischen, unreinklingenden französischen Sprache erinnern, daß der kräftige Geist auch solches Material zu veredeln weiß, könnte nachweisen, wie in Glucks Munde selbst diese Laute unwiderstehlichen, unnachahmlichen Ausdruck der Leidenschaft, diese Monotonie und Taktlosigkeit Schwung und gewaltig treffenden Rhythmus erhalten hätte; könnte dann die deutschen Tonsetzer ausser Sebastian Bach fragen, was denn sie für ihre unerschöpflich reiche, reine, zarte und kräftige, durch und durch beseelte, in sich selbst schon dichterische Sprache Gleiches gethan, um Glucks Idee in ihr Vaterland zurückzuführen? For the remainder of the review, Marx compares Gluck’s opera with modern ones. He begins each paragraph noting the noble, lofty plot and music of Gluck’s opera and then immediately condemns modern operas for presenting the complete opposite: Gluck introduces us into a circle of the most noble characters: Iphigenia, who did not balk at becoming an expiatory sacrifice for her father, a benefactor for the country and its imperiled inhabitants; Orestes, who bears penitence and atonement strongly, like a hero; Pylades, the loving, faithful, supportive friend, all [three of them] conjoined, ennobled and warmed by just, true, and strong love. — In modern composers’ works, we meet empty, cold, and selfish people: coquettes who pretend to be in love in order to get married; fops who, lecherous and mawkish, return the formers’ grimaces of a love of which none of them are capable; foolish fathers and shameless servants, equally wicked 474 A. B. Marx, “Iphigenia in Tauris, tragische Oper in vier Akten von Gluck. Aus dem Französichen des Guichard [sic] frei übersetzt von J. D. Sander, Klavierauszug von Ludwig Hellwig,” BamZ 4, no. 49 (5 December 1827): 395. By calling Genlis a water bearer, Marx is alluding to her experiences during the French Revolution. Like the character Count Armand in Cherubini’s Les deux journées, which was performed in Germany as Der Wasserträger, Genlis had to escape the French authorities. Her memoires were published in 1825. 220 and empty as the main protagonists; surrounded by a chorus of purposeless, toadying country folks, hunters or Turks. In Gluck, the main interest lies in lofty plots. Barbarism is not to triumph over humanity; a noble, worthy character who is toppled by the gods, rather than falling on his own account, is to be reconciled with them and with himself; Iphigenia and Pylades are to see their sorrow ended and their well-tried loyalty and virtue rewarded. The modern [composers’ works] are all about whether the fop or the fool manages to snap up the object of his enamored fancy, which either of them could just as well do without despite all their sentimental airs; at around 9 p.m., the duped father, or any other opponent, gives up his opposition, about which he already didn’t feel serious at 6 p.m., and the choristers sing and dance just as before. If Gluck has the task of revealing the actions of a higher power, the latter is deeply motivated and justified; the Furies do not terrify the upper world without it’s being guilty, Gods descend to aid and save humans; next to them, the humans are worthy of direct divine intervention. In modern [operas], childish phantoms assist the caprices of the protagonists or, and not unjustifiably so, turn those hollow puppets into the playthings of their equally foolish fancy. Gluck’s language [is] profound and incisive in every word and sound, a pure, intimate expression of a decisively worthy character, of true, sympathetically animating and ennobling feeling—modern [composers’ language is] the lecherous, mind- titillating lie of a hollowed-out mind, that pulls down to its own level of thoughtlessness and heartlessness all those who are not shielded from it by means of repugnance or better guidance. … 475 Gluck führt uns in einen Kreis der edelsten Menschen: Iphigenia, die sich nicht gesträubt hat, für ihren Vater das Sühnopfer zu werden, die Wohlthäterin des Landes und der dort gefährdeten Fremdlinge, die Versöhnerin ihres tiefgebeugten Königshauses mit den Göttern; Orestes, der heldenstark Reue und Buße trägt; Pylades der liebreiche, treu ausharrende aufrichtende Freund, alle durch eine gerechte, wahrhafte und starke Liebe verbunden, geadelt, erwärmt. — In den modernden Modernen begegnen uns leere, kalte, selbstsüchtige Menschen: Koketten die verliebt thun, um geheirathet zu werden; Gecken die lüstern und süßlich die Grimassen der Liebe, der alle unfähig sind, jenen zurückgeben; thörichte Väter und schamlose Diener, so schlecht 475 A. B. Marx, “Iphigenia in Tauris, tragische Oper in vier Akten von Gluck,” 395-97. 221 und leer, wie die Hauptpersonen; umgeben von einem Chor bestimmungsloser, mauldienerischer Landleute oder Jäger oder Türken. Bei Gluck erscheinen die wichtigsten Interessen in einer erhabnen Handlung. Barbarei soll nicht über Menschlichkeit den Sieg behaupten; ein edler, würdiger, mehr durch die Götter Gestürzter als Gefallener soll mit ihnen und sich selbst versöhnt werden, Iphigenia und Pylades sollen ihr Leid geendet, bewährte Treue und Tugend belohnt sehen. In den Modernen handelt sich's darum, ob der Geck oder aber der Narr den Gegenstand seiner verliebten Laune erschnappen soll, den beide trotz aller sentimentalen Geberdung eben so leicht entbehren könnten; der gefoppte Vater oder sonstige Widersacher giebt gegen 9 Uhr Abends einen Widerstand auf, um den es ihm schon um 6 Uhr nicht Ernst war und die Choristen singen und springen nach wie vor. Wenn Gluck das Walten eines höhern Willens zu offenbaren hat, so ist dieser ein tief begründeter, gerechtfertigter; Erynnien erschrecken die Oberwelt nicht ohne deren Schuld, Götter lassen sich herab heilbringend; die Menschen neben solchen Erscheinungen sind würdig der unmittelbaren höhern Einmischung. In den Modernen springen kindische Fantome den Einfällen der Handelnden bei, oder machen die hohlen Puppen nicht mit Unrecht zum Spielwerk ihrer gleich thörichten Laune. Glucks Sprache, in jedem Wort und Ton tiefsinnige treffend, reiner inniger Ausdruck eines entschiedenen würdigen Karakters, eines wahrhaften, sympathetisch beseelenden und veredelnden Gefühls — die Modernen, lüsterne sinnkitzelnde Lüge eines ausgeleerten Gemüths, das jeden zu seiner Gedanken- und Herzlosigkeit herabzieht, den nicht Widerwille oder bessere Leitung davor bewahrt. Marx’s statement attacking modern opera was very much in line with the views of many of earlier theatre reformers of the 18th century. After hearing the premiere of Alceste in 1767, Sonnenfels thought the opera was a “model for others.” 476 Sonnenfels and Marx held similar agendas: Sonnenfels detested the improvised comedies of 476 Heartz, Haydn, Mozart, and the Viennese School, 229. 222 Hanswurst; Marx detested Rossini’s operas. 477 Both wanted native composers and institutions to cultivate a Germanic art that only relied on the best features of foreign works and that edified the general public. Though Gluck conceived of these works in French and Italian, both critics found the music so well-constructed that it could be a model for the creation of a Germanic opera. 478 For Marx, the 19th-century operatic world had deteriorated into absurdity to the point that an opera from the previous century sounded new and fresh. To a degree, the plot of Tauride becomes a metaphor for the 19th-century cultural milieu: the noble Iphigenia is surrounded by barbarians and forced to carry out their barbarous sacrifices, much like well-meaning modern composers who debase themselves for the vulgar public. When it came to performances, Marx and his writers for the BamZ upheld the score as the ideal object; perfect performances, as stated above, realized the composer’s intentions through a flawless execution of the score. As already mentioned in this discussion, opera companies often failed to meet these ideals. A month after Marx’s 1824 essay on Tauride, a performance review by N-. stated: I, for my part, have never seen a cloud crawl either on earth or on water and indeed could not deny my neighbor in the box some applause when he said that Diana was making her entrance on a waterspout. Similarly, I consider the monstrous clubs wielded by our ballet dancers, whether as Scythians or other characters, a continual nuisance. In vain I racked my brain as to how the delicate little men could have physical command of clubs that were almost as large as they were themselves... . 479 477 Ibid. and Pederson, “A. B. Marx and Berlin Concert Life,” 89-91. 478 Sonnenfels only briefly mentions Calzabigi’s Italian libretto. 479 N.–, “An den Redakteur. (Ueber die Vorstellung der Iphigenia auf Tauris in Berlin.),” BamZ 1, no. 9 (3 March 1824): 83-84. 223 Ich meines Theils habe noch nie eine Wolke auf der Erde, oder auf dem Wasser hinkriechen sehen und konnte in der That meinem Nachbar in der Loge Beifall nicht versagen, der da meinte: Diana führe auf einer Wasserhose einher. So sind mir auch die monströsen Keulen, welche unsere Ballettänzer, als Scythen und dergleichen, schwingen, ein beständiges Aergerniß. Ich zerbreche mir vergeblich den Kopf, wie die zarten Männerchen einer Keule mächtig werden können, welche fast so stark ist, wie sie selbst... . The writer concluded his review with a maxim for singers: to study Gluck’s works in order to understand his musical construction of each character. Two years later, in 1826, the reviewer F. blamed the singer Johann David Heinrich Stümer, who sang the role of Pylades, for distorting Gluck’s music with ornamentations: But several times, especially at the cadences in the A-major aria, [Music Example 2.5: “Unis dès la plus tendre enfance,” act 2, sc. 2, Iphigénie en Tauride, from BamZ] he added Italian ornaments with grace notes and appoggiaturas that we do not reproduce here because they are now heard all around, a thousand and a thousand times again. Why does he deform Gluck’s work? An independent singer should make it a matter of pride to render the great master exactly as written. 480 Aber mehrmals, besonders in der A-dur Arie bei den Schlußstellen brachte er italienische Veränderungen mit Vorschlägen und Vorhalten an, die wir nicht niederschreiben, weil sie jetzt von allen Seiten tausend und wieder tausendmal zu hören sind. Warum verunstaltet er Gluck? Ein unabhängiger Sänger sollte seinen Stolz darin setzen, den großen Meister, ganz wie er geschrieben, auch wiederzugeben. When Munich’s premier singer Nanette Schechner made a guest appearance in the title role of Iphigenia in Tauris, in 1827, Ludwig Rellstab noted: 480 F., “Königliches Opernhaus.” BamZ 3, no. 27 (5 July 1826): 212. 224 To add one more point, we must disapprove of the ornamentation at the end of the aria in G major “O laßt mich tief Gebeugte weinen!” [“Ô mahlheureuse Iphigénie”]. Not only because Gluck cannot tolerate the slightest alteration without being debased, but also because this addition was not in the character of the aria. Iphigenia must not become vehement or indignant in her sorrow; the aria, just as Gluck wrote it, has to die away, as it were, with the expression of the most sorrowful but gentlest wistfulness. In Spontini’s operas, Miss Schechner used the same figure with great effect; but here, the character [of the piece] demands quite different means. 481 So müssen wir, um noch eins zu sagen, auch die Verzierung am Schluß der Arie in G-Dur “O laßt mich tief Gebeugte weinen!” durchaus mißbilligen. Nicht, dass Gluck schon an sich nicht die kleinste Aenderung verträgt, ohne verschlechtert zu werden, sondern daß diese Hinzufügung auch nicht im Karakter der Arie war. Eine Iphigenia darf in ihren Schmerz nicht heftig, nicht unwillig werden; die Arie muß, wie Gluck es geschrieben, mit dem Ausdruck der schmerzlichsten aber sanftesten Wehmuth gleichsam hinsterben. In Spontini’s Opern hat Dem. Schechner dieselbe Figur mit großer Wirksamkeit angebracht; hier fordert der durchaus andere Karakter durchaus andere Mittel.– This tendency on the part of singers to violate the composer’s intentions and inappropriately alter Gluck’s scores stemmed, according to Marx and other critics, from the public’s growing demand for and interest in the operas of Rossini and his contemporaries. Singers, moving between the operas of the 18th and 19th centuries, did not shift their vocal performances away from the flashier, ornamented style of 19th- century Italian and French opera to suit the simple, unornamented style of Gluck. Therefore, they not only distorted Gluck’s works themselves, but also the composer’s desire to eliminate ornamentations and cadenzas, which were only proper in the operas of Rossini and his contemporaries. 481 Ludwig Rellstab, “Fräulein Schechner als Iphigenia (Schluß),” BamZ 4, no. 33 (15 August 1827): 267. 225 “The ideal of the Werktreue,” Lydia Goehr has written, “emerged to capture the new relation between work and performance as well as that between performer and composer. Performances and their performers were respectively subservient to works and their composers. ...[The] additional demand for interpretation was severely constrained by the ideal of fidelity to the work.” 482 When performers deviated from the score, as we will see in the second section of this chapter, it represented not only a violation of the composer’s intentions, but also a disintegration of culture. The one singer whose interpretations remained faithful to Gluck’s scores, according to critics, was Anna Milder-Hauptmann. 483 For her performance of Armide, for example, Marx stated: At the very top, like Sirius, shines Madame Milder, the proud, powerful, lovelorn sorceress. One does not know whether it is the sound of her bell-like voice, [or] the deep emotion that animates her singing, or the loftiness and benevolence of her noble appearance, or finally her perfection in the understanding and portrayal of her character: in all respects, this artist inspires undivided admiration and, just as her Statira is rendered with an exceptional plasticity [plastische Kunsterscheinung], Madame Milder could hardly be surpassed as Armide. 484 Ganz oben glänzt dem Sirius gleich Madame Milder, die stolze, mächtige, von Liebe bezwungene Zauberfürstin. Man weiß nicht, ist es der Klang ihrer glockenartigen Stimme, das tiefe Gemüth, welches ihren Gesang belebt, oder die Erhabenheit und Milde ihrer herrlichen Erscheinung, oder endlich ihre Vollendung in der Auffassung und Darstellung des Charakters: überall reißt diese Künstlerin zu ungetheilter Bewunderung hin und so wie ihre 482 Lydia Goehr, The Imaginary Museum of Musical Works: An Essay in the Philosophy of Music (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), 231. 483 For comments about Milder’s performances of Gluck’s operas in Vienna, see Andread Meyer, “‘Gluck’sches Gestöhn’ und ‘welches Larifari’: Anna Milder, Franz Schubert und der deutsch-italienische Opernkrieg,” Archiv für Musikwissenschaft 52 no. 3 (1995): 171-204. 484 N. G. [A. B. Marx], “Ueber die Aufführung von Glucks Armide, zu Berlin am 23 Februar 1824,” BamZ 1 no. 11 (17 March 1824):101. 226 Statira eine plastische Kunsterscheinung ist, so dürfte Mad. Milder auch als Armide schwerlich überboten werden. Milder-Hauptmann accomplished everything that Marx wanted from singers: she adhered to the score, and her appearance contributed to an ideal realization of Gluck’s operas on the stage. 485 By Henry Chorley’s estimation, Milder-Hauptmann left a tangible mark on Berlin’s stage and the performance practice of Gluck’s operas: So popular became this stately enchantress in Berlin that she settled finally there... . Her picture is in every musical house I entered. She must have been a gorgeous-looking woman—the very Alcestis and Iphigenia of Gluck in her majesty of attitude and the sublime repose of her features... Only last autumn, when I saw Mademoiselle von Fassmann, to my ignorant eye absolutely overladen with veil and diadem, and chaplet and stole, in “Iphigenie,” and remarked to someone on the impolicy of such a disproportionate quantity of drapery, I was answered—and the answer was considered to be final—‘Milder dressed it so.’ 486 The writers for the BamZ believed that Milder-Hauptmann defended Gluck’s operas against Spontini’s attempts to remove his works for the Berlin opera repertoire. (Spontini was in fact a great admirer of Gluck.) Writing from Dresden, Spazier claimed, “Alongside [B. A.] Weber, the German singers in Berlin preserved their immortal Gluck, against whom even Spontini**) was powerless, and in them [they preserved] a rampart against every foreign tempest; intoxicated by Sontag, one listened to Milder—[and] enthused over Schechner.” 487 Marx printed Spazier’s comments in 1830; however, 485 It should be noted that at the end of his essay about Alceste, Marx generally praised Milder- Hauptmann’s interpretation of the heroine but remarked that she needed to keep sight of the details. 486 Henry Fothergill Chorley, Music and Manners in France and Germany: A Series of Travelling Sketches of Art and Society vol. 2 (London: Longman, Orme, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1841; reprinted New York; Da Capo, 1984), 127-28. 487 “Die deutschen Sänger in Berlin wahrten neben Weber ihren unsterblichen Gluck, über den Spontini selbst nichts vermochte, und in ihnen eine Mauer gegen jeden ausländischen Sturm; trunken von der Sontag hörte man auf die Milder – schwärmte für die Schechner”; R. O. Spazier, Scherz und Ernst: Bemerkungen 227 Spontini had already dismissed Milder-Hauptmann the year before in an attempt to improve the opera’s cast by hiring younger singers. 488 Therefore, Marx added a footnote to Spontini’s name: **)Only that, during his tenure as General Music Director, Milder was dismissed, so that Gluck’s operas can no longer be cast. Whether it happened at Spontini’s behest, with his approval, or whether it was unavoidable, I do not know; but at least the reason why Gluck is currently dormant had to be mentioned. 489 Nur dass unter seiner General-Musikdirektion die Milder entlassen wurde und die gluckschen Opern nun nicht besetzt werden können. Ob es auf Spontini’s Veranlassung, oder Zulassung, oder unvermeidlich geschehen, weiss ich nicht; aber einmal musste erwähnt werden, warum Gluck jetzt ruht. In the year of Milder-Hauptmann’s dismissal, as if overnight, the music of Gluck vanished from the opera houses and concert halls of Berlin. 490 Das fremdartige Ballett and the Revival of Armide in 1837 In the 1830s, performances of Gluck’s operas became infrequent in Berlin; they were not performed at all in the years 1830, 1832, and 1835. 491 In 1831, Milder-Hauptmann returned to Berlin as a guest artist to sing the role of Armide. For the performance of Tauris in 1833 and 1834, the Hofoper engaged Schechner to sing Iphigenia. With each revival, the reviews, often by Ludwig Rellstab, followed a similar pattern: first, über Nationalität in der dramatischen Musik, über die Verhältnisse der dresdner deutschen und italienischen Oper u. s. w. , cited in BamZ 7, no. 5 (30 January 1830): 34. 488 The document dismissing Milder-Hauptmann is transcribed in Wilhelm Altmann, “Spontini an der Berliner Oper. Eine archivalische Studie,” Sammelbände der Internationalen Musikgesellschaft 4 no. 2 (February 1903): 277-78. A brief discussion of the dismissal can also be found in Lorraine Byrne Bodley, Goethe and Zelter: Musical Dialogues (Farnham, UK and Burlington: Ashgate Publishing, 2009), 510-11n. 489 Marx, Scherz und Ernst, 34n. 490 Wörner, “Die Pflege Glucks,” 212. In the case of Armide, there were 60 performances of the opera during B. A. Weber’s directorship and 35 during Spontini’s tenure. 491 Ibid. It was also during the 1830s that Marx’s paper went bankrupt, and he decided to focus on teaching music (Kirchmeyer, Situationsgeschichte der Musikkritik und musikalischen Pressewesens in Deutschland, xix). 228 disparaging remarks over the disappearance of Classical-era operas from the stage; second, praise for the composer’s music in contrast to the newer operas of the 19th century; third, comments on any deviation from the score; and fourth, gratitude toward the theater management for reviving the 18th-century masterpiece. 492 The fascinating aspect of these reviews, particularly the responses to the 1837 production of Armide, was that they documented a cultural shift among audiences and critics that brought into question the relevancy of 18th-century opera in the Romantic period. When Spontini began his tenure in 1820, he received an enthusiastic welcome from Berlin’s public and critics. 493 Perhaps in a move to win over his Berlin audiences, Spontini conducted Gluck’s Armide in his first year as General Music Director. Milder- Hauptmann sang the title role, and Stümer was Rinald. Hoffmann contributed a review of the performance to the Vossische Zeitung on 16 September 1820, praising Spontini’s direction: It is very fine, and there is hardly anything better in life than when one’s hopes are fulfilled. And so our Spontini begins to fulfill the fine hopes we have been harboring. With the same fire, the same vigor and deliberateness as in the case of his own Cortez, he conducted Gluck’s Armide today. A true artistic genius only keeps in mind art and its works, without being concerned about lavishing care and attention only on his person; thus this master disregarded and surmounted in a glorious manner the difficulties, the language, and the arrangement that must have confronted him within the other composer’s work, which he had undertaken to conduct. This [undertaking] was recognized and honored by the audience, who received the master, when he entered the orchestra [pit], with the most vivid pleasure. 494 492 Wolfgang Franke remarks on the formulaic nature of Rellstab’s reviews in Der Theaterkritiker Ludwig Rellstab (Berlin: Colloquium Verlag, 1964), 32-41. 493 Pederson, “A. B. Marx, Berlin Concert Life,” 94. 494 E. T. A. Hoffmann, Review of Armide by Christoph Gluck (Hofoper, Berlin), Vossische Zeitung, 16 September 1820. 229 Es ist gar schön und gibt es kaum schöneres Leben, als wenn erfüllt wird, was man gehofft. So beginnt unser Spontini die schönen Hoffnungen zu erfüllen, die wir in uns getragen. Mit demselben Feuer, mit derselben Energie und Besonnenheit, wie seinen Cortez, dirigirte er heute Glucks Armide. Der wahre geniale Künstler behält nur die Kunst und ihre Werke im Auge, ohne darauf bedacht zu sein, nur seine Person zu hegen und zu pflegen, deshalb achtete nicht und überwand der Meister auf glorreiche Weise die Schwierigkeiten, die Sprache und Bearbeitung des fremden Werks, das er zu leiten unternommen, ihm entgegen stellen mußten. Dies erkannte und ehrte das Publikum, das den Meister, als er in das Orchester trat, mit der lebhaftesten Freude empfing.– Though Hoffmann had written disparaging remarks about Spontini’s operas a few years earlier, he reversed his opinion upon his arrival in Berlin and wrote several glowing critiques of Spontini’s music. The reason for the reversal, as Libby points out, was to dissuade Spontini from following the path of Rossini, and instead to use his position to promote and cultivate German opera and culture. 495 For the production, Karl Schinkel provided new sets for Armide’s palace in act 1, the magical garden for act 2, sc. 3, and a royal hall for act 5. For Armide’s magical garden, Schinkel recreated a tropical forest, which was illuminated with hidden lamps. 496 To represent Armide’s enslavement of men, Schinkel designed statues for her palace that depicted men with their hands bound behind their backs, crouched in submissive positions, with horses baying and soldiers standing on top of them (Figures 2.1a-c). 497 495 Libby, “Gaspare Spontini and his French and German Operas,” 264-305. 496 Ulrike Harten and Helmut Börsch-Supan, Die Bühnenentwürfe, Karl Schinkels Lebenswerk (Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlage, 2000), 340. 497 Figures from ibid. 230 Figure 2.1a: Karl Schinkel’s decorations for the open plaza in Damascus act 1 from Armide (1820), at the Hofoper, Berlin, figures from Ulrike Harten and Helmut Börsch-Supan, Die Bühnenentwürfe, Karl Schinkels Lebenswerk (Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlage, 2000). Figure 2.1b: Magical Garden in act 2, sc. 3 from Armide (1820), at the Hofoper, Berlin, figures from Ulrike Harten and Helmut Börsch-Supan, Die Bühnenentwürfe, Karl Schinkels Lebenswerk (Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlage, 2000). 231 The choreographer for the performance in 1820 was Michel-François Hoguet. The ballets received brief, mixed reviews in the Berlinische Nachrichten and Vossische Zeitung. According to the reviewer H. t., the ballets near the end of act 1 were very well performed and made up for the poor acting of the chorus: It seemed a very good idea to us that it was the dancers who acted at the conclusion of the first act instead of the chorus singers. Many principle chorus singers [Richtchorist] could use actors as substitutes, and a suitable theatrical prize question for our times would be how the common society game [Gesellschafts-Scherz], in which one person gesticulates for another one who is talking, might be realized on the stage. On the subject of dancers, we must mention that Mlle. Lemiere and Mr. Hoguet won new laurels for Figure 2.1c: Armide’s palatial room in act 5 from Armide (1820), at the Hofoper, Berlin, figures from Ulrike Harten and Helmut Börsch-Supan, Die Bühnenentwürfe, Karl Schinkels Lebenswerk (Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlage, 2000). 232 themselves with the pas de deux in the first act. Mlle. Vestris, too, danced most charmingly. 498 Eine sehr gute Idee schien es uns, daß beim Schluß des ersten Aktes die Tänzer statt der Choristen agirten. Dergleichen gestikulirende Substitute könnte auch gar mancher Richtchorist brauchen, und es gäbe für unsere Tage eine passende theatralische Preisfrage an, wie der bekannte Gesellschafts-Scherz, wo Einer für einen zweiten Sprechenden die Gebehrden macht – auf der Bühne zu realisiren sei? ad vocem Tänzer müssen wir erwähnen, daß in dem pas de deux des ersten Aktes Mlle. Lemiere und Hr. Hoguet sich neues Lorbeeren errangen. Auch Mlle. Vestris tanzte gar allerliebst. But for the choreography and costuming of act 3, Hoffmann thought the “strange jumps of the red demon” brought about an “irresistible appetite for crabs.” 499 By the mid 1820s, the enthusiasm for Spontini floundered, mostly due to his own demanding persona and inclination toward intrigue. 500 For the most part, Spontini only conducted productions of his own operas and occasionally directed his favorite works— Don Giovanni and Armide. 501 When Ludwig Rellstab entered the critical arena in 1826, 498 O., Review of Armide by Christoph Gluck (Hofoper, Berlin), Vossische Zeitung, 8 February 1820. Having the dancers act instead of the chorus was a feature of Gluck’s original staging of Armide. Kraus Hortschansky provides a transcription of reviews of the premiere in the introduction to Armide by Gluck, Sämtliche Werke, Ser. 1, vol. 8, ed. Gerhard Croll (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1991), xiv-xxv. 499 Hoffmann, Review of Armide, Vossische Zeitung. 500 Spontini attempted to prevent the Berlin premiere of Carl Maria von Weber’s Euryanthe and stop further productions of Der Freischütz, which eclipsed the premiere of his Olympia in 1821 (Pederson, “A. B. Marx, Berlin Concert Life,” 94). This and other controversies are also discussed in Norbert Miller’s “Der musikalische Freiheitskrieg gegen Gaspare Spontini: Berliner Opernstreit zur Zeit Friedrich Wilhelms III,” in Preussen: Politik, Kultur, Gesellschaft, ed. Manfred Schlenke (Rowohlt: Reinbek bei Hamburg, 1986), 530-49. Libby notes that Spontini did have the support of the critic Gustav Nicolai, among others (“Gaspare Spontini and his French and German Operas,” 344-53). The parallels between Spontini’s and Gluck’s career paths are made explicit in an anonymously written pamphlet, Spontini in Deutschland oder unparteiische Würdigung seiner Leistungen während seines Aufenthalts daselbst in den letzten zehn Jahren (Leipzig: Steinacker und Hartknoch, 1830). The pamphlet provides an overview of Spontini’s activities in Berlin for the previous decade. 501 The organist Friedrich Ludwig Seidel and the horn player Georg Abraham Schneider conducted most operatic performances during Spontini’s tenure. Andreas Meyer-Hanno, Georg Abraham Schneider (1770- 1839) und seine Stellung im Musikleben Berlins: Ein Beitrag zur Musikgeschichte der preußischen Hauptstadt in der ersten Hälfte des 19. Jahrhunderts (Berlin: Merseburger, 1965), 147. 233 he condemned Spontini for ruining Berlin’s Classical operatic tradition to promote his own operas and those by foreign composers. 502 When Spontini conducted operas from the 18th century, Rellstab and others accused him of altering these works with heavy orchestrations, contrived stage effects, or new music in order to appease the masses. 503 In a pamphlet, Über mein Verhältniß als Kritiker zu Herrn Spontini als Komponisten und Generalmusik-Director in Berlin nebst einem vergnüglichen Anhange, Rellstab complained: Now, so was hoped, the operas of Gluck, Mozart and Cherubini would be revived in the same manner, treated with the same love. But nothing of the kind happened. Gluck’s operas remained [in the repertory] on account of their intrinsic excellence and the superb accomplishments of some of the members [of the cast], who sought compensation from [Gluck’s operas’] expression of noble depth of feeling for the wild, often unnatural effects in Spontini’s operas. ...In order to give the audience at least something to satisfy their just demands to some extent, Don Giovanni was revived again at that time. But heaven knows how! — The orchestra was enlarged, and so we were simply robbed of the opportunity to listen for the fine nuances of orchestration in this consummate opera, because the sound was as though painted too thickly. 504 Jetzt, so hoffte man, würden die Opern von Gluck, Mozart, Cherubini auf eine gleiche Weise einstudirt, mit gleicher Liebe behandelt werden. Doch nichts von alle dem geschah. Glucks Opern hielten sich durch ihre innere Trefflichkeit und durch die vorzüglichen Leistungen einiger Mitglieder, die sich hier gewisser Maaßen für die wilden, oft unnatürlichen Effecte in Spontini’s Opern an dem Ausdruck edler Tiefe des Gefühls entschädigen wollten. ... Um dem Publikum doch etwas zu geben, seine gerechten Forderungen doch einiger Maaßen zu befriedigen, wurde indeß zu jener Zeit Don Juan neu einstudirt. Aber der Himmel weiß wie!– Man verstärkte das Orchester und beraubte uns so nur 502 Libby, “Gaspare Spontini and his French and German Operas,” 256-57. 503 Ibid. 504 Ludwig Rellstab, Über mein Verhältniß als Kritiker zu Herrn Spontini als Komponisten und Generalmusik-Director in Berlin nebst einem vergnüglichen Anhange (Leipzig: C. F. Whistling, 1827), 25. The pamphlet was banned in Berlin. 234 der Möglichkeit, die feinen Nuancirungen der Instrumentation in dieser vollendeten Oper zu hören, weil alles zu dick aufgetragen wurde. These attacks, according to Libby and others, intended to demonstrate that this foreign conductor, appointed by an inept king, knew nothing of Berlin’s and Germany’s culture or music. 505 With Milder-Hauptmann still in Berlin in the 1820s, many critics felt that the performances of Gluck’s and Mozart’s operas would continue unharmed under her protection. Shocked over her dismissal in 1830, critics used her guest appearance in Armide and Alceste the following year as a platform to attack Spontini once again. Rellstab noted that “Spontini watches everything from his box: he composes nothing; he conducts nothing. But wait! On the day of penance, he directed Mozart’s Symphony in C Major and Alexander’s Feast by Handel.” 506 In general, Rellstab and others wrote glowing reviews of Milder-Hauptmann’s performance. The reviewer for the Leipzig- based AmZ however, did make one complaint: “The insertion of an outlandish dance piece into Gluck’s operas is always very annoying... .” 507 505 Pederson, “A. B. Marx, Berlin Concert Life,” 95, Libby, “Gaspare Spontini and his French and German Operas,” 249-55, and Jürgen Rehm, Zur Musikrezeption im vormärzlichen Berlin: Die Präsentation bürgerlichen Selbsverständnisses und biedermeierlicher Kunstanschauung in den Musikkritiken Ludwig Rellstab (Hildesheim: Olms, 1983), 64-65. All three of these writers note that often criticism of Spontini was a subtle means of criticizing the king and his reactionary policies. 506 “Herr Spontini sieht Allem aus seiner Loge zu; er komponirt nicht, er dirigirt nicht. Doch halt! am Bußtage dirigirte er Mozart’s Symphonie in C dur und das Alexanderfest von Händel”; Ludwig Rellstab, Review of Armide and Alceste by Christoph Gluck (Hofoper, Berlin), Iris im Gebiete der Tonkunst 2, no. 18 (6 May 1831): 72. A brief discussion of Spontini’s direction of the Busstag concert is provided in Celia Applegate, Bach in Berlin: Nation and Culture in Mendelssohn’s Revival of the “St. Matthew Passion” (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2005), 120-21. 507 “Das Einlagen fremdartiger Tanzstücke in Gluck’s Opern wirkt stets sehr störend... ”; “Nachricht. Berlin (Beschluss),” AmZ 33, no. 23 (8 July 1831): 377. “Fremdartiger” can also be translated as “strange” or “foreign.” 235 Though the “outlandish dance” only garnered this brief mention in the 1831 production, this insertion and other changes to Gluck’s Armide received an onslaught of attacks when the work was restaged six years later, on 27 January 1837. Moreover, the performance instigated a larger debate regarding the 18th-century composer’s relevancy in the 19th century and the changing tastes of Berlin’s opera-going public. Leading the charge against Spontini’s production of Armide was Rellstab, who, a month before the performance, had been released from the city jail after serving a four-month sentence for slandering Spontini. 508 Many critics of the 1837 production took umbrage at the mixture of cutting Gluck’s music and inserting new pieces. Rellstab was furious over such changes, whereas others took a more balanced approach. The reviewer from the Berlinische Nachrichten (likely Friedrich Raumer) noted: That the second demon, Melisse, is omitted [in the fourth act] is not to be criticized, since the repetition of the same temptation scene is slightly monotonous and the opera lasts long enough without it. Yet one should not have inserted the outlandish [fremdartige] dances in the first act either, which desecrate Gluck’s muse! Just how melodic, luxuriant, and tender—appropriate to the style of the opera—Gluck’s ballet music proves to be is demonstrated by the original pieces that were retained. Thus, the majority of the large audience openly voiced its disapproval of this distasteful interlude. 509 508 Franke, Der Theaterkritiker Ludwig Rellstab, 86. 509 Review of Armide by Christoph Gluck (Hofoper, Berlin) Berlinische Nachrichten, 30 January 1837. The writer for the Mitternachtszeitung für gebildete Stände (hereafter Mitternachtszeitung) claimed it was Friedrich Raumer who wrote the review for the Staatszeitung (i.e. Berlinische Nachrichten). Raumer was a professor of political science and history at the University of Berlin who worked with the classically oriented Berliner Sing-Akademie. Raumer himself was a royalist, but progressive in that he supported the implementation of a constitutional monarchy and other liberal reforms. For a contemporary account of Raumer’s writing and character, see the introduction to the English translation of Raumer’s England in 1835: Being a Series of Letters written to Friends in German, during a Residence in London and Excursion in the Provinces, trans. Sarah Austin and H. E. Lloyd (Philadelphia: Carey, Lea, and Blanchard, 1836), 9- 24. 236 Daß der zweite Damon, Melisse, wegbleibt, ist nicht zu tadeln, da die Wiederholung derselben Verlockungs-Scene leich einförmig wird, und die Oper ohnedies lange genug dauert. Dann hätte man aber auch nicht im ersten Akt fremdartige Tänze einlegen sollen, welche Gluck’s Muse entweihen! Wie melodisch, üppig und zart Glucks Ballet-Musik, dem Styl der Oper angemessen sich bewährt, zeigten die beibehaltenen Originalstücke. Der größere Theil des überaus zahlreichen Publikums sprach daher auch seine Mißbilligung dieses unschmackhaften Zwischengerichts unverholen aus. Rellstab, writing for the Vossische Zeitung, took a far more vitriolic stance against the changes: We do not approve of the shortening of Armide’s great conjuring aria (F major, third act)... And what is gained by this? Maybe 30 or up to 40 measures, not even two minutes. Likewise the omission of several of the most splendid passages from Armide’s last scene is a robbery of Gluck’s highest treasures... . Instead of these omissions, which, on the whole, shortened the piece not even by five, scarcely three minutes, we would have gladly dispensed with the ballets in the first act, which were not accompanied by Gluck’s music [and which] made an almost offensive impression to the ear. That which would be passable on its own becomes ugly and repulsive when it places itself next to the supreme. This opinion prevailed in the audience as well, whose majority was to a significant extent composed of admirers of [Gluck’s] music and works of art, and therefore disapproved of the large amount of space the padding took up; at least we cannot interpret the meaning of the opposition which was raised fairly loudly against the surging applause for the ballet dancers in any other way. 510 Wir billigen die Verkürzung der großen Beschörungsarie Armidens (F dur 3te Akt) nicht... . Und was gewinnt man? Vielleicht 30 bis 40 Takte, nicht zwei Minuten. Eben so ist die Weglassung mehrerer der großartigsten Stellen aus Armidens letzter Scene, ein Raub an Glucks höchsten Schätzen... . Statt dieser Auslassungen, womit im Ganzen für die Verkürzung zuverlässig nicht fünf, ja kaum drei Minuten gewonnen werden, 510 Ludwig Rellstab, Review of Armide by Christoph Gluck (Hofoper, Berlin), Vossische Zeitung, 30 January 1837. 237 hätten wir gern der Ballets im ersten Akt entbehrt, die mit nicht Gluckscher Musik begleitet, dem Ohr förmlich einen widerwärtigen Eindruck machen. Was an sich ganz leidlich wäre, wird häßlich, abstoßend wenn es sich neben das Höchste stellt. Diese Meinung waltete auch im Publikum vor, das diesmal in seiner Majorität aus Verehrern der Musik und des Kunstwerkes in seinen wesentlichen Theilen zusammengesetzt war, und sich daher gewissermaßen über den breiten Raum den das Beiwerk einnehmen wollte, unwillig fählte [sic]; wenigstens können wir den Sinn der Opposition, die sich ziemlich stark gegen den laut werdenden Beifall für die Ballet-Tänzer erhob, nicht anders deuten. Comparing the two reviews, the reviewer for Berlinische Nachrichten understood to a certain extent why the production cut act 4, sc. 4 since it repeats the same sentiment and dramatic effect as the first three scenes. Yet Rellstab took the position that any cut to Gluck’s music desecrated the organic nature of the composer’s creation. For many 19th- century critics, as Goehr asserts, music was “untouchable,” and performances should present works in an unaltered state, exactly as the composer intended them. 511 The question in this debate over the 1837 production of Armide was: could an 18th-century opera in its unaltered state still entertain and fascinate 19th-century audiences? The position of Rellstab was that it could; the position of the Berlin Hofoper and the reviewer for the Berlinische Nachrichten was that it could not. 512 Both reviewers were appalled by the inserted ballet number in the first act. In a later review for the ZfdeW, Rellstab named Spontini as the likely composer for this new ballet music; but, as will be discussed below, it may have been by B. A. Weber or Georg 511 Goehr, The Imaginary Museum of Musical Works, 222. 512 Mark Everist points out that Berlioz and Castil-Blaze carried out a similar debate in the Paris journals of the 1820s. For Berlioz, Gluck’s music could stand on its own, whereas Castil-Blaze took the position that his scores needed altering (“Gluck, Berlioz and Castil-Blaze,” 107). 238 Schneider. 513 Hoguet, who choreographed the ballets for the 1820 production of Armide, was still listed as the director of the dances for the entire opera, but members of the Taglioni family danced the first-act pas de deux. 514 It is unclear as to whether or not Spontini used exactly the same ballet music for the 1820, 1831, and 1837 productions— an overview of the available performance materials would be helpful at this point. It is difficult to pinpoint the exact score and supplementary materials used by Spontini for the Berlin performance of Armide, although there is a score in the Sächsische Landesbibliothek, Staats- und Universitätbibliothek (SLUB, call number Mus. 3030-F- 64b) that has an ambiguous connection to Spontini. 515 On the first folio of the score, the manuscript bears the date 1845 and the name Christian Wilhelm Fischer, who was the stage and choir director of the Dresden Hoftheater. Given this date, the score might be related to the 1843 Dresden production of Armide under Richard Wagner’s direction, with Wilhelmine Schröder-Devrient in the title role. In his autobiography, Wagner does not mention adding any additional dance or instrumental pieces to the opera or changing its instrumentation, only focusing on providing subtle nuance to the tempo and texture of the opera. 516 The one thing that connects this score to Spontini is that over the trombone line in the overture, someone, either Fischer or another person, wrote the name Spontini in pencil (Figure 2.2). Gluck did not compose parts for trombone in his original score, 513 Ludwig Rellstab, “Correspondenz. Aus Berlin. (Fortsetz.) [Armide – Robinson Crusoe – Clara Wieck.],” ZfdeW 49 (10 March 1837): 195-96. 514 Berlinische Nachrichten, 30 January 1837. 515 As the entry in RISM states, “Praktische Funktion der vorliegenden Abschrift nicht eindeutig....”<http://opac.rism.info/index.php?id=6&no_cache=1&L=0&tx_bsbsearch_pi1%5Bquery%5D %5B0%5D=Spontini%20Armide&tx_bsbsearch_pi1%5Bid%5D=270001122> (Accessed 31 August 2011). 516 Richard Wagner, My Life, ed. Mary Whittall, trans. Andrew Gray (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 270. 239 but it was a common practice in the late 18th and early 19th centuries to add trombones for performance. 517 Additionally, this same hand wrote the names of Dresden cast members whenever their characters entered, as well as stage directions for thunder and lightening machines in the second act. Spontini did not use this score for the performance of Armide in Berlin. Though the exchange of scores and parts between Berlin and Dresden was common throughout the 19th century, there were no indications that the Dresden Hoftheater received Berlin’s copy of its scores for Armide. 518 Christian Wilhelm Fischer, according to Wagner, enjoyed copying the music of old composers for his own personal amusement and study. 519 Fischer either had the opportunity to visit Berlin to copy Spontini’s score or examined the score when Spontini visited Dresden to conduct La Vestale in 1844. 520 517 Charlton, French Opera: 1730-1830, 351. 518 For example, Carl Maria von Weber borrowed Berlin’s score of Iphigénie en Tauride in preparation for performances in Dresden. The letter from Weber requesting the score is reprinted in Carl Maria von Weber. Briefe an den Grafen Karl von Brühl, ed. Georg Kaiser (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1911), 20; also Wagner received, and then lost, Spontini’s score for Iphigénie en Aulide (Jost, introduction to Iphigenia in Aulis, vii). 519 Richard Wagner, “Dem Andenken meines theuren Fischer,” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik (2 December 1859) reprinted in Richard Wagner’s Prose Works, vol. 3 Judaism in Music and Other Essays, trans. William Ashton Ellis (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1995), 147-52. 520 Richard Wagner, “Erinnerungen an Spontini,” reprinted in Richard Wagner’s Prose Works, vol. 3 Judaism in Music and Other Essays, 125-43. Wagner makes additional comments about Spontini’s visit in My Life, 278-91. In addition to manuscript score, a first-edition score of Armide is bound under the call number Mus. 3030-F-64a, and Fischer may have used it to help him in his transcription. Figure 2.2: Trombone line, mm.1-2, overture to Armide, in D-Dl Mus. ms. 3030-F-64b (1845?) 240 Though Spontini did not use this score for the 1837 production, it bears some markings and other indications related to the Berlin performance. The score contains the same altered version of Julius Voss’s translation as found in Berlin librettos from the 1830s. Additionally, before the music for Melisse and Ubaldo’s duet, “Ihr wollt den heitern Rosenhain” (“D’où vient que vous vous détournez”), there is “Duetto vi... de” written in pencil, indicating a cut. But there are no indications of cuts to Armide’s music anywhere in act 3. As for ballets in the first act, there are two dances copied after the chorus “Es tönen in festlichen Lied (“Armide est encor plus aimable”) in act 1, sc. 3, in which Armide and members of her court celebrate their recent victory over the crusaders. The first dance corresponds to the Larghetto in F major found in the 1777 first edition of the score; the other does not appear in the original print edition of Armide. Three things are of note with regard to this dance number. First, the dance is the Allegro no. 27 from Gluck’s ballet Don Juan. Second, it is orchestrated for strings alone, and the melodic and harmonic writing is fairly simple. Third, Fischer or someone else cut the second dance piece with a pencil streak over the music and wrote “bleibt weg” by the first measure. European opera companies often inserted this dance number from Don Juan into the first act of Armide, at least starting with the 1808 performance in Vienna. 521 It is highly unlikely that it could cause such an uproar amongst the Berlin critics. 521 The same dance number appears in the performance parts for the Weimar production of Armide (DNT 206) and in the score for the 1808 Viennese production (K. T. 40). Additionally, as noted in the first chapter, in a review of a piano reduction of Gluck’s Don Juan from 1828, the writer notes that people are familiar with some numbers because they have heard them in performances of Armide. ( –t– “Don Juan, Ballet, in Musik gesetzt vom Ritter Gluck. Vollständiger Klavierauszug von F. Wollank. Berlin bei T. Trautwein,” BamZ 5 no. 7 [13 February 1828]: 53). 241 From this point forward, we must maintain a degree of caution regarding Rellstab’s claims and critiques against Spontini. In his critique of Spontini’s Agnes von Hohenstaufen, for example, Rellstab printed a musical phrase as an illustration of the composer’s insipid compositional style, but Rellstab confessed later in the article that the phrase does not actually exist in the score. 522 Rellstab often judged performances and music based on his subjective emotional response, and did not always rely on a complete familiarity with the music or examination of the score when forming his critiques. 523 Nonetheless, Rellstab’s father, Johann Carl Friedrich Rellstab, printed the vocal and piano scores of Gluck’s Paris operas (with French and German texts) from 1788 to 1806, so it is fair to assume that Rellstab had a comprehensive understanding at least of Gluck’s Paris operas and could identify pieces that were added or removed for performance. 524 The writer for the AmZ claimed that these “outlandish” ballet pieces were by Charles-Simon Catel and B. A. Weber: At the penultimate performance, the dances inserted in Armide accompanied by outlandish yet basically good music by Catel, B. A. Weber, et al. were accompanied by strong hissing (which was more a tempo here than after a Spohr Symphony), which was heard along with the applause. 525 Die in Armide eingelegten Tänze mit fremdartiger, obgleich an sich guter Musik von Catel, B. A. Weber u. s. w. wurden bei der vorletzten Vorstellung durch starkes Zischen (welches hier wohl eher a tempo, als nach einer Spohr’schen Symphonie war) begleitet, welches sich den gespendeten Beifallsbezeigungen hinzugesellte. 522 Dennis Libby, “Gaspare Spontini and his French and German Operas,” 311. 523 Ibid. 524 Hopkins, A Bibliography of the Printed Works of C. W. von Gluck, 90. This is not to suggest that Ludwig Rellstab understood Gluck’s works merely because his father printed scores of them, rather that he had access to Gluck’s music from an early age. 525 “Nachrichten – Berlin,” AmZ 39, no. 12 (March 1837): 193. 242 According to this report, the ballet music Rellstab and other critics responded to might not have been by Spontini at all, but by his predecessor, B. A. Weber, whom Rellstab greatly admired. As discussed in the first chapter of this dissertation, the addition of new ballet music into Gluck’s operas was nothing new and in fact the composer himself had added new dance music for revivals of his works. 526 Yet when Spontini made such insertions or other changes to Gluck’s works, it was cause for great concern among Berlin’s critics. For Rellstab and other writers, the productions of Gluck’s operas under Weber’s direction represented the pinnacle of Berlin’s operatic and cultural achievements, whereas Spontini’s versions signaled a decline in the quality of the performance and of audiences’ taste in opera. There are still some sources that may indicate at least what type of ballet music was inserted into the first and other acts of the opera. As discussed in the first chapter, when the Kärntnertortheater staged Armide for the benefit of the dancer Jean Coralli in 1808, Salieri, who directed the performance, or another composer, added a march, a pas de deux, and the Allegro no. 27 from Don Juan to Gluck’s original dance number in act 1, sc. 3. 527 For a performance in Berlin, there is a manuscript that contains music for a 526 These adaptations to Gluck’s works belong to a complex history of opera revivals. David Charlton provides an overview of the 18th-century Parisian revivals of the operas of Lully, Rameau, and others in Opera in the Age of Rousseau: Music, Confrontation, Realism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013); see especially Chapter 3, “The Opéra: Cycles versus Changes” (56-93), and Chapter 12, “New generations, new tastes” (303-30). 527 The performance score is at the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Musiksammlung, under the call number K. T. 40. Thomas A. Denny points out changes made to 19th-century scores of Gluck’s works in Viennese archives, in “Wiener Quellen zu Glucks “Reform”-Opern: Datierung und Bewertung” in Beiträge zur Wiener Gluck-Überlieferung, ed. Irene Brandenburg and Gerhard Croll (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 2001), 21. 243 “Pas No. 1 zu Armide.” 528 The manuscript does not contain the composer’s name, but it is likely by Schneider, and probably his final sketch before the fair copy that was sent to the copyists. According to Carl Ledebur’s entry on the composer in the Tonkünstler- Lexicon Berlins of 1861, Schneider composed ballet music for Gluck’s Armide, but Ledebur provides no evidence for this assertion. 529 Klaus Hortschansky believes that Schneider composed this ballet for the 1805 or 1812 performance of Armide under B. A. Weber’s direction. 530 A major part of Schneider’s duties as Kapellmeister was to compose new ballets that would replace the composer’s original music or be performed after the opera. 531 Typically, Berlin’s Hofoper replaced the original ballets in most operas with lengthier works to please their patron, King Frederick William III, who loved ballet. 532 The pas de deux for the Berlin performance is scored for flute, clarinet in C, bassoon, horns in F, and strings (Music Example 2.6). At the very bottom of the page, a part is written for the oboe, with the instructions to double the first violins for the first eight measures and the clarinets for the remainder of the piece. Schneider based the opening melody on the ballet labeled “Gracieux sans lenteur” from the 1774 version of Iphigénie en Aulide, which Gluck later reused as the Poco Lento in the first act of the 528 Mus. ms. 7808/8 at the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin mit Mendelssohn Archiv. The handwriting on Mus. ms. 7808/8 is similar to some of the pencil markings found in Mus. ms. 7798/2 (Alceste). An example of what is likely Schneider’s handwriting in Mus. ms. 7808/8 and Mus. ms. 7798/2 can be found in Appendix A. 529 Carl Ledebur, Tonkünstler-Lexicon Berlin’s von den ältesten Zeiten bis auf die Gegenwart (Berlin: Ludwig Rauh, 1861), 514. Schneider also arranged the overture to Armide for harmoniemusik and added an Allegro based on the duet “Esprits de haine” from act 2, sc. 2; a copy exists at the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin under the call number Mus. ms. 7808/5. 530 Kraus Hortschansky, introduction to Armide, xxxii. 531 Andreas Meyer-Hanno, Georg Abraham Schneider, 249. 532 Eva Giloi, Monarchy, Myth, and Material Culture in Germany 1750-1950 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 104. 244 1775 Paris version of Cythère assiégée. 533 For the second section of the pas de deux, Schneider used the Gigue from the third act of Cythère assiégée. 534 Schneider added trumpets in F and timpani. Schneider composed a one-measure fanfare to provide a transition to the Gavotte in act 5, sc. 2 of Armide. For the Gavotte, Schneider transposed the music to A major and added parts for oboe, bassoon, and horns to Gluck’s original orchestration of strings and clarinets. Schneider likely intended the new pas de deux for the fifth act instead of the first, and there was no mention of a new ballet in the fifth act anywhere in the 1837 reviews. 535 Ultimately, these performance materials show us that opera companies continually added new ballet music to Gluck’s operas, and that the performance in 1837 was no exception. 533 The dance is originally from Gluck’s 1764 ballet Les Amours d’Alexandre et de Roxane, which was virtually unknown in the 19th century. The librettists of Cythère assiégée, Charles-Simon Favart, wrote as a veiled parody of Lully’s Armide Bruce Brown, Gluck and the French Theatre in Vienna (Oxford: Clarendon, 1991), 234-35. 534 Hortschansky, introduction to Armide, in SW, xxxii. 535 Rellstab dissected all aspects of Spontini’s revival of Armide to demonstrate his improper handling of Gluck’s music and opera. It seems odd that he left out any discussion of Act 5, especially if new music was added. In all likelihood, Schneider’s ballet music was not used for the 1837 performance. Yet, given that this ballet was based on Gluck’s original music and that it was likely composed by Schneider, if it was performed in 1837, either Rellstab ignored the insertion or it had been included in the performances of Armide for so long that audiences and reviewers accepted it as part of Gluck’s opera. 245 & ? b b c c Strings Poco lento e cantabile œ ! œ œ . œ j œ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ . ˙ œ . ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ j œ ˙ œ œ J œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ œ Œ w . œ J œ œ œ . œ j œ œ œ . ˙ œ & ? b b . ˙ œ œ ˙ œ . ˙ œ ˙ Œ œ œ œ ˙ . œ j œ œ œ ˙ . œ J œ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ ˙ œ . ˙ . ˙ Music Example 2.6: “Pas No. 1 zu Armide,” mm. 1-5, mm. 43-52, possibly by Georg Abraham Schneider, possibly used for performances of Armide from 1805 to 1837, at the Nationaltheater and Hofoper, Berlin, in D-B Mus. ms. 7808/5 246 Music Example 2.6 (Continued) 247 Music Example 2.6 (Continued) & & ? & & ? & & B ? b b b b b b b b Fl. Bsn. Hn. 1 Trpt F Timp. Vln. I Vln. II Vla. Cb. . œ œ j œ . œ œ J œ Œ ‰ . . œ œ ! œ j œ œ j œ œ J œ œ J œ ! ! œ œ œ œ j œ œ œ œ œ j œ . œ ! œ œ œ . œ ! . œ ! ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ œ ob. & cl. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ j œ œ ‰ ‰ . œ ! œ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ j œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ j œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ œ ‰ . . ˙ ˙ . . ˙ ˙ . . ˙ ˙ . ˙ . ˙ ! ! ! œ œ œ œ œ œ . œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ . œ œ œ œ ! ! ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ ƒ . . œ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ . . œ œ ! œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ j œ œ ‰ ‰ . œ ! J œ ‰ ‰ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ j œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ j œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ‰ œ œ œ œ ‰ 248 In addition to supposedly adding new ballet music, Spontini modified Gluck’s orchestration, which was well received by the reviewer for the Berlinische Zeitung. Spontini included trombones in act 2, sc. 2 and possibly in act 3 and the overture: 536 Through this [performance], Herr G. Spontini would earn himself new merit for the arts. The minor cuts and partial strengthening of the instrumentation, in the admirably executed conjuration duet of the second act of the opera Armide, for example, can only be approved of as in keeping with the times and prudent, as are the few added closing measures of the overture, of which the audience, however, yet again most irritatingly demanded to hear a da capo. 537 Hr. G. Spontini würde sich hiedurch ein neues Verdienst um die Kunst erwerben. Die geringen Abkürzungen und theilweisen Verstärkungen der Instrumentation, z. B. in dem vortrefflich ausgeführten Beschwörungs Duett des 2ten Akte der Oper Armide, sind, als zeitgemäß und umsichtig, nur zu billigen, so auch die wenigen hinzugefügten Schluß-Tacte der, dennoch wieder höchst störend da capo verlangte, Ouvertüre. The critic accepted the addition of trombones as a prudent move by Spontini in order to update Gluck’s work for 19th-century audiences. In the Dresden Armide, there are three trombones inked in during the conjuration scene (act 2, sc. 2). When Armide and Hidraot enter, the trombones support the harmonies, beginning in F major, moving to V 7 /IV, but resolving to a D 6 -major triad that slides into the key of G minor. Hidraot begins his recitative accompanied solely by strings. As Armide and Hidraot start their incantation (“Der Rachlust nächtliche Geister”), the trombones return to double the bass line, as thunder resounds and lightening flashes in the background. Marx and other writers for the BamZ, discussed above, argued that Gluck’s music eschewed such blatant sound 536 In the Dresden Armide, trombones are added to Hate’s aria “Wohlan! Amor vereinen!” (“Amour, sors pour jamais!”). 537 Berlinische Nachrichten, 30 January 1837. 249 effects, instead relying on an internal construction that provided the listener with a deeper understanding of the text and plot. Yet, with many recent operas centered around supernatural topics, audiences had grown accustomed to such moments of phantasmagoria. Though not as grand or ostentatious as the orchestrations and machinery used by Meyerbeer, Marschner, or Carl Maria von Weber for supernatural scenes, the added trombones and thunder machine bent Gluck’s scene toward the spectacle common to supernatural scenes found in Romantic operas. The Hofoper’s attempt to align Gluck’s opera with the conventions of the 19th- century supernatural operas horrified Rellstab. In particular, the Hofoper’s phantasmagoric staging of the third act of Armide, Rellstab felt, went too far: ... we would say the entire staging failed, and not just this one time, but from the beginning. The present writer, at least, from the point of view of his own sensibility, has not yet had the experience of seeing the Furies portrayed in a dignified manner, as majestic allegories of evil or horror. Those grotesque costumes, those bundles of snakes, to some extent elicit a kind of repugnance that—the more so because of the wriggling of the reddish, blue- bellied snakes—is akin to disgust, and partly they have a comic effect. … These Furies-figures are in accord with their dances, which would be more suitable for drunk, giddy gnomes, goblins and Cyclopes—an orgy of centaurs—than for the demons of the horrific. However, this feeling is brought vividly to the fore because of the contrast between those visual impressions and Gluck’s music, which reaches precisely at these points the ultimate apogee of the sublime, both in the choruses and in the dances, with a centrifugal force of genius that surpasses everything that has been created in the realm of the lyric-dramatic arts up to now. 538 ... wir möchten sagen die ganze Bühne gescheitert, und nicht blos dies eine Mal, sondern von jeher. Seinem Gefühl nach hat es der Ref. wenigstens noch nicht erlebt, die Furien würdig, als majestätische Sinnbilder des Bösen oder des Schrekens dargestellt 538 Rellstab, Vossische Zeitung, 30 January 1837. 250 zu sehen. Diese grotesken Trachten, diese Schlangenbündel, erregen theils eine Art von Widerwillen, der, zumal bei der Bewegung der röthlich-blaubäuchigen Schlangen, dem Ekel verwandt ist, theils wirken sie sogar komisch. ... Diesen Furien- Gestalten entsprechen ihre Tänze, die besser für trunken, überlustige Gnomen, Kobolde u. Cyclopen passen möchten,––ein Centaurenbachanal––als für die Dämonen des Entsetzlichen. Vollends aber tritt diese Empfindung scharf berührend hervor durch den Contrast, in dem diese bildlichen Eindrücke zu Gluck’s Musik stehen, die gerade hier die äußersten Gipfel des Erhabenen, sowohl in den Chören wie in die Tänzen, mit einer Schwungkraft des Genius erreicht, die alles überflügelt was bisher in der lyrisch dramatischen Kunst geschaffen ist. Like Marx, Rellstab believed that Gluck’s operas did not need such cheap gimmicks, since he “handles these [musical] elements with the power of a titan.” 539 Recalling the analysis of Armide in the BamZ, the writer A-Z singled out act 3 as the moment where Gluck broke free from the archaic confines of Quinault’s libretto and presented listeners with some of his most passionate music. But with the Hofoper relying on blatant visual effects, Rellstab felt the production obscured the transcendent nature of Gluck’s music and evoked a grotesque visceral reaction. The reviewer from the Berlinische Nachrichten and Rellstab both agreed that the alteration and repetition of the overture was a disturbing change to Gluck’s music. Both reviewers believed that the repetition of a few measures from the introduction was an attempt by Spontini to garner greater applause. According to Rellstab’s account, Spontini repeated some measures of the allegro section and then paused, providing the audience 539 Ibid. 251 the opportunity to applaud and demand an encore. 540 For Rellstab, this change represented a much larger problem: We cannot at all approve of the changing of the overture in which Gluck very appealingly lets the closing section (a modified repetition of the introduction) follow the somewhat weaker allegro. Why a brilliant, different ending for the allegro, instead of transition to that most delightful one which forebodingly announces the innermost soul of the poem? Is it in order to create an incision for loud applause (which really occurred), to give the audience an opportunity to demand a da capo of the overture? Gluck does not need any of this; someone who has heard half a century of calls for the da capos of all his works again and again and will continue to do so can easily suffer the loss of one so transient. Had he endeavored toward [such a da capo], he would have provided for it himself. But Gluck aimed at something higher with his overtures; he wanted to prepare the soul of the listeners for the work itself, to attune them for it. Therefore, he loves to connect the overture to the work, and does so in his three immortal creations: Alceste, Iphigenia in Aulis, and Armide! Besides, it is not easy to create a proper ending to a Gluck overture; it is just as hard as the restoration of a beautiful artwork. For at least fifty years, no one has been able to come up with an ending to the overture to Iphigenia, for example, which only remotely reflected Gluck’s noble simplicity. The so-called Mozart ending is either inauthentic or proof that the highest pinnacles of genius maintain a strict singularity and cannot easily bridge the different spheres they inhabit. 541 Die Veränderung der Ouvertüre, in der sich bei Gluck der Schlußsatz (die modificirt wiederkehrende Einleitung) so ungemein reizend an das etwas schwächere Allegro anreiht, können wir durchaus nicht gut heißen. Weshalb ein brillanter, fremder Schluß im Allegro, statt es überzuführen in jenen reizenden, die innerste Seele des Gedichts ahnungsvoll 540 It is slightly unclear exactly what took place in the opera house. In an open letter, printed as a “Correspondenz. Aus Dresden, den 22. Febr. [Aus einem Briefe Spontini’s],” ZfdeW 45 (4 March 1837): 180-81, Spontini admits to repeating “some of the opening measures at the end in somewhat more lively manner,” but makes no mention of a full repeat of the overture. 541 Rellstab, Vossische Zeitung, 30 January 1837. In a footnote to this passage, he calls the introduction to Iphigénie en Tauride a little overture. The “Mozart” coda which Rellstab cites was actually by Johann Philipp Schmidt, as noted by Alexander Rehding, Music and Monumentality: Commemoration and Wonderment in Nineteenth-Century Germany (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 123. 252 verkündenden? Will man damit nur einen Incisionspunkt für den lauten Beifall, für das da capo (welches wirklich eintrat) gewinnen? Gluck bedarf dessen nicht; wem ein halbes Jahrhundert so das da capo seiner sämmtlichen Werke immer wieder zugerufen hat, und zurufen wird, der kann den Verlust eines so vorübergehenden verschmerzen. Hätte er danach getrachtet, würde er selbst dafür gesorgt haben. Aber Gluck wollte mit seinen Ouvertüren etwas Höheres; er wollte die Seele der Hörer auf das Werk selbst vorbereiten, sie dafür stimmen. Deshalb liebt er es die Ouvertüre in dieses einzuleiten, thut es in seinen drei unsterblichen Schöpfungen Alceste, Iphigenia in Aulis und Armide! Auch ist es nicht so leicht einen Schluß zu einer Gluckschen Ouvertüre zu machen; es ist eben so schwer als die Restauration einer schönen Antike. Wenigstens hat seit fünfzig Jahren niemand z. B. einen Schluß für die Ouverture der Iphigenia zu Stande bringen können, in dem man die edle Einfachheit Glucks nur annäherungsweise wieder gefunden hätte. Der sogenannte Mozartische Schluß, ist entweder unecht, oder ein Beweis, daß die höchsten Gipfel des Genius eine strenge Eigenthümlichkeit bewahren, und aus den verschiedenen Zonen in die sie hineinreichen, sich nicht so leicht zu einander hinüberneigen können. This alteration of the overture not only violated the music but also the dramatic purpose of the piece. In the early 19th century, critics were well aware of the preface to Alceste written by Calzabigi (though printed with Gluck’s name), which clearly states that the overture “ought to apprise the spectators of the nature of the action... .” 542 By repeating the overture (or at least sections of it), Spontini obscured the ten-measure transitional phrase Gluck had placed at the end, which connected the overture with Phénice’s air “Dans un jour de triomphe” without any pause or interruption (Music Example 2.7). 543 542 Calzabigi, “Dedication for Alceste” (1769), in Oliver Strunk, Source Readings in Music History, 933. 543 It may have been quite common to cut this ten-measure figure in the 19th century. In the Weimar Armide, a large crayon “X” eliminates the maestoso section. In the instrument parts, the copyist left out the transition altogether, but another copyist pinned the transition back in for a later 19th-century performance. 253 The overriding concern in many of the reviews was the quality of the performers, especially the inadequate skills of the soprano Augusta von Fassmann, who sang the title role. 544 The reviewer from the AmZ claimed her performance was “deeply felt” and that she “relinquished her personality” to the role. Nevertheless, Fassmann was one “... whose voice does not entirely possess the necessary full tone for this demanding role, as 544 Fassmann received a honorarium of 2,500 thalers for her engagement in Berlin, plus ten thalers per performance. & & ? c c c Violin I Oboe Bass ‰ œ œ œ ‰ œ b œ œ b Ó ˙ b w ˙ ˙ ‰ œ b œ œ b ‰ œ œ œ b ˙ ˙ w b ˙ ˙ ‰ œ œ œ b ‰ œ b œ œ ˙ Ó ˙ b ˙ ˙ b ‰ œ b œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ! ˙ ˙ b ‰ œ b œ œ ‰ œ b œ b œ ! ˙ ˙ b ‰ œ b œ œ ‰ œ œ œ w ˙ b ˙ ˙ ˙ b & & ? Vln. I Ob. Cb. ‰ œ œ œ œ œ b œ œ b 7 ˙ œ Œ ˙ œ 7 ˙ ˙ œ b œ œ œ œ œ b œ œ b ‰ œ b œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ b œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ b œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ œ œ ˙ Ó ˙ Ó ˙ Music Example 2.7: Transitional figure at the end of the overture to Armide (1777), Académie Royale de Musique, Paris, in Sämtliche Werke 254 her figure does not have the imposing sovereignty which immediately identifies the proud princess and sorceress also by means of her physical appearance.” 545 The reviewer for the Mitternachtszeitung had harsher words for Fassmann’s performance: “The stage action was certainly not very invigorating: Frl. v. Fassmann is very commendable in many respects, but she is too dull and uniform for an Armide, she dyes everything an expressionless blonde, and she belongs in less demanding roles than Tasso’s Asian sorceress.” 546 In their writings about Gluck’s operas in the 1830s, Berlin reviewers began evoking the time of Gluck, Mozart, and Beethoven as a lost golden age. The greatest performances of these composers’ works occurred in Berlin during the period between 1790 to 1820, when B. A. Weber and Milder-Hauptmann ruled the city’s cultural establishments. In 1836, when Fassmann sang the title role in Tauris, Rellstab commented: But the guest appearances of Mlle. von Fassmann have presented to us the three greatest works by the three greatest dramatic composers, i.e., Mozart’s Don Giovanni, Beethoven’s Fidelio and Gluck’s Iphigenia in Tauris, all repeated several times, so that our belief in a Golden Age of music, which we had already lost, could become further entrenched. ... In such times, we delight in being able to show off the state of music in Berlin to visiting strangers, since no other [city] in Germany can match [Berlin] with regard to the continuing cultivation of these great, incomparable works. In 545 “... deren Stimme allerdings nicht ganz die für diese anstrengende Rolle erforderliche Tonfülle, wie ihre Gestalt nicht die imponierende Hoheit besitzt, welche die stolze Fürstin und Zauberin auch in der persönlichen Erscheinung sogleich erkennen lässt”; “Nachrichten: Berlin, den 5. Februar 1837,” AmZ 39, no. 8 (February 1837): 127. 546 “Die Darstellung war freilich nicht sehr belebend: so verdienstlich in Manchem Frl. v. Fassmann ist, für eine Armide ist sie zu matt und gleichförmig, sie färbt zu ausdruckslos blond, und gehört für anspruchslosere Rollen, als die asiatische Zauberin Tasso’s”; “Armide in Berlin,” Mitternachtszeitung, 12, no. 30 (February 1837): 123. I would like to thank Christian Hografe of the Herzog August Bibliothek in Wolfenbuttel for sending me a copy of this article. 255 Vienna, for example, Mozart has become no more than a name, and his works are starting to disappear in the same manner as his grave, whose location no one knows. 547 Allein die Gastdarstellungen des Fräulein v. Fassmann haben uns in Kurzem die drei größten Werke der drei größten dramatischen Componisten, Mozarts Don Juan, Beethovens Fidelio und zuletzt Glucks Iphigenia in wiederholten Darstellungen vorübergeführt, so daß der schon entwichene Glaube an ein goldenes Zeitalter der Musik sich wieder befestigen konnte. ... In solchen Zeit erfreut es uns anwesenden Fremden den Zustand der Musik in Berlin vorführen zu können, weil (leider) keine andere in Deutschland ihr in der Pflege dieser großen, unvergleichlichen Werke gleich kommt. In Wien z. B. ist Mozart nur noch ein Name, und seine Werke fangen an so zu verschwinden wie sein Grab, das niemand kennt. While the composers of this musical golden age may have lived and worked in Vienna, the true appreciation and cultivation of their works was in Berlin. Yet, in the disappointing performance of Armide in 1837, Rellstab and others instead heard Berlin’s golden age coming to a close. In his discussion of constructed golden ages and national rejuvenation, Anthony Smith considers that leaders evoke a glorious golden ages “to mobilize people around a common culture.” 548 Along these lines, critics used the names of B. A. Weber and Milder-Hauptmann to mobilize Berlin’s populace against Spontini and promote the idea that the performance and appreciation of Gluck’s operas was an essential part of Berlin’s culture. Another aspect Smith highlights is that of dignity: ...[this] quest for collective dignity has become a key element in national struggles everywhere, and the memory of a golden age affords a standard of comparison and evaluation in relation to both 547 Ludwig Rellstab, Review of Iphigenia in Tauris by Christoph Gluck (Hofoper Berlin), Vossische Zeitung, 6 June 1836. Rellstab was the one reviewer who enjoyed Fassmann’s performances. 548 Anthony Smith, “The ‘Golden Age’ and National Renewal,” Myths and Nationhood, eds. Geoffrey Hosking and George Schöpflin (New York: Routledge, 1997), 39. 256 the past of the community and the histories of its neighbors. An appeal to the golden age elevates the inner, or ‘true,’ essence of the community vis-à-vis both outsiders and the present degradations of the community. ... [T]heir inner dignity contrasts sharply with their outward shame and humiliation. 549 The “shame and humiliation” experienced by Berliners was due to the foreigner Spontini—once the favorite composer of their enemy, France—controlling the German cultural scene and changing the works of Berliners’ favorite composers. It was this foreign domination, compounded by the poor acting and singing abilities of many of the performers, that caused Berlin’s musical elite to nostalgically reminisce about a lost golden age in Berlin’s cultural history. They used this golden age to remake themselves into the stewards of the Classical canon, distinguishing themselves from Vienna and other European capitals, where the music from the Classical era had vanished. Throughout many of the reviews of the 1837 Armide, critics compared Fassmann’s performance with the singers of this lost golden age, Milder-Hauptmann and Margarete Schick, who first sang Armide in 1804. The reviewer for the Berlinische Nachrichten began his critique with the comparison: After a long silence following the lamentable departure of Mlle. Milder, for whose resonant, melodious voice and imposing figure no replacement has been found, on the 27th of this month (Mozart’s birthday), Gluck’s enchanting Armide was prepared most carefully and performed very exquisitely on the whole and with moving effect under the direction of General Music Director Spontini, even if small shortcomings in the details cannot yet be avoided. The new casting of the parts of Armide and Rinald present the greatest difficulties. It takes great vocal endurance and strength, and emotional depth, to perform these alternations of the highest passions, of anger, of revenge, of hatred, and the most tender love as well as the most painful despair through four acts, in 549 Ibid., 50. 257 a manner comparable to that of Schick in 1804. Frl. v. Fassmann honorably and worthily accomplished this difficult task considering the available means; she appropriately interpreted the character of Armide and performed the magical scenes in particular, namely the closing scene of the last act, with moving truth. The general and loud applause was an all the more deserved appreciation of her high artistic performance if one considers that the youthful singer studied and performed the role of Armide here for the first time. After so many continuous rehearsals the vocal organ must be unavoidably weakened, which is why it was inevitable that the intonation floated upwards occasionally. 550 Am 27 d. M. (Mozart’s Geburtstag) wurde Gluck’s bezaubernde Armide, nach langer Rühe, seit dem beklagenswerthen Abgang, der Seitens der volltönenben, wohlklingenben Stimme und der Hoheit der Gestalt nicht ersetzten, Mme. Milder, höchst sorgsam vorbereitet, unter Leitung des G. M. D. Spontini, im Ganzen sehr vorzüglich und mit ergreifender Wirkung gegeben, wenn gleich im Einzelnen noch manche kleine Mängel nicht zu vermeiden sind. Die größte Schwierigkeit bietet die Versetzung der Rollen der Armide und des Rinald dar. Welche Ausdauer und Kraft der Stimme, welche Tiefe der Empfindung gehört dazu, um, einer Schick gleich (1804), durch vier Acte diesen Wechsel höchster Leidenschaften, des Zorns, der Rache und des Hasses, der zärtlichsten Liebe, wie der schmerzlichsten Verzweiflung, durchzuführen. Frl. v Fassmann hat die schwere Aufgabe, nach Verhältniß der vorhandenen Mittel, ehrenvoll und würdig gelöst, den Charackter der Armide treffend aufgefaßt, und besonders die magischen Situationen, namentlich in der Sclußscene des letzten Acts, mit ergreifender Wahrheit ausgeführt, so daß allgemeiner, lebhafter Beifall eine um so verdientere Würdigung ihrer hohen Kunstleistung war, wenn man erwägt, daß die jugendliche Sängerin hier erst Armide eingeübt, und zum ersten Male darstellt hat. Nach so vielen anhaltenden Proben mußte auch das Stimm- Organ nothwendig geschwächt seyn, daher zuweilen das Hinaufschweben der Intonation unvermeidlich war. 550 Berlinische Nachrichten, 30 January 1837. Milder-Hauptmann had gone into permanent retirement from the Berlin stage in 1836. In February 1838, three months before she died, Milder-Hauptmann wrote to an unknown recipient mentioning how excited she was about an upcoming performance of Armide. With regard to Mozart’s birthday, it should be noted, that Rellstab mentioned in his journal Iris im Gebiete der Tonkunst (8 no. 6 [3 February 1837]: 24) that a celebration was planned, but was cancelled due to discord among the singers. Carl Möser arranged a belated birthday concert of the composer’s instrumental music. 258 Not only did the quality of the singers fail to live up to past productions, but the quality of the conducting also deteriorated from the time of B. A. Weber to that of Spontini. While reviewers evoked the name of Milder-Hauptmann and Schick to critique Fassmann, Rellstab used B. A. Weber’s name to attack Spontini’s inability to conduct the orchestra properly: As far as the tempi are concerned, a disagreement over them can hardly be settled by a categorical judgment, and perhaps the conductor feels just as offended by our old-fashioned tempi [resulting from] many years of familiarity with the piece and the tradition of earlier masterful performances of it (by Gluck’s greatest admirer, Bernhard Anselm Weber) as we feel by his. But a consistent principle seems to speak for us. In fact, almost everywhere, Mr. Spontini almost always takes the andante, grave, etc. much too slow for our taste and, in comparison, exaggerates the fast tempos. 551 Was die Tempi anlangt, so ist eine Uneinigkeit darüber freilich nicht durch ein apodiktisches Urtheil auszugleichen, und vielleicht dürfte der Dirigent sich eben so durch unsre, aus langjährigem Vertrautseyn mit dem Werke; und aus den Ueberlieferungen einer früheren meisterhaften Darstellung desselben (durch den größten Verehrer Glucks, Bernhard Anselm Weber) überkommenen Tempi verletzt fühlen, als wir durch die seinigen. Doch scheint ein durchgehender Grundsatz für uns zu sprechen. Hr. Spontini nimmt uns nämlich fast überall das Andante, Grave u. s. w. viel zu langsam, und übertreibt dagegen die raschen Tempi. In Rellstab’s estimation, it was precisely because of B. A. Weber’s skilled direction of Gluck’s operas, which stemmed from Weber’s fidelity to the score, that Berliners grew accustomed to excellent performances of his works. As mentioned above and elsewhere in this dissertation, B. A. Weber altered Gluck’s scores with new instrumentation, 551 Rellstab, Vossische Zeitung, 30 January 1837. Rellstab repeated this critique of Spontini’s conducting in his journal Iris im Gebiete der Tonkunst 8 no. 6 (3 February 1837), 24. In this review, he also states that the audience members who still remembered Milder-Hauptmann and Schick were greatly disappointed by the performance. 259 inserted arias, and substituted ballets. Rellstab, however, altered that past in order to delegitimize Spontini’s behavior in the present. 552 His nostalgic longing for the age of B. A. Weber and Milder-Hauptmann allowed him to rewrite Berlin’s cultural history without any personal responsibility. 553 Spontini responded to all these critiques—and Rellstab’s in particular—on 4 March 1837 in an open letter printed in the ZfdeW. (Spontini’s German was not very good, so this letter was likely translated from French by the editor of the ZfdeW.) In the letter, Spontini did not cite Rellstab by name, only writing “Herr Referent in der Voß’schen Zeitung.” He rhetorically asked: Should it have happened because I directed a masterpiece by the patriarch of sublime lyrical tragedy with such love and admiration, with such joyous enthusiasm to an audience of connoisseurs of Classical music once again? What a mistake! – On this occasion, in order to refute unfair accusations, I have explained to a great many people that I added nothing of my own work to the overture of Armide and that I merely repeated some of the opening measures at the end in a somewhat more lively tempo. I have explained that Armide’s aria in F in the third act (the summoning of Hate) had been cut not by me, but rather against my will by the singer, despite my admonition and pleas, despite the pain that I felt over it at each rehearsal, and that I was eventually forced to comply with the resolute statement [by the singer]: ‘I cannot sing the entire aria, I do not have sufficient strength.’ 554 Hätte es etwa deshalb geschehen müssen, weil ich mit solcher Liebe und Verehrung, mit so freudigen Eifer ein Meisterwerk des Patriarchen der erhabenen lyrischen Tragödie, einem aus Kennern der classischen Musik bestehend Publicum unter meiner Direction wieder vorführte? Welche ein Irrthum! – Ich habe erklärt bei dieser Gelegenheit, um ungerechte Beschuldigungen 552 As Smith notes, leaders, political or otherwise, often use a golden age to legitimize actions and changes that are taking place in the present, “The ‘Golden Age’ and National Renewal,” 37. 553 My assessment here is based on the theoretical work of Svetlana Boym, The Future of Nostalgia (New York: Basic Books, 2001). 554 Spontini, “Aus einem Briefe Spontini’s,” 180. 260 zurückzuweisen, einer Menge von Personen erklärt, daß ich der Ouverture zu Armide nichts von meiner Arbeit hinzugefügt, sondern, daß ich nur einige von den Anfangstakten am Schlusse in etwas lebhafterer Bewegung hätte wiederkehren lassen. Ich habe erklärt, daß die Arie Armidens in F im dritten Acte (der Herbeiruf des Hasses) gekürzt werden sei, und zwar nicht durch mich, sondern gegen meinen Willen von der Sängerin, trotz meiner Ermahnungen und Vorstellungen, trotz des Schmerzes, den ich bei jeder Probe darüber empfand, und daß ich endlich genöthigt war, mich der bestimmten Erklärung: “ich kann die ganze Arie nicht singen, meine Kräfte reichen dazu nicht aus,” zu fügen. Spontini blamed Fassmann for the cuts made to the opera and the distortion of Gluck’s work. Nowhere in his letter did he make any statement about inserted ballet music and claimed he did not add anything of his own composition to the opera. Spontini ended the letter stating that he conducted the opera in the way it was “performed by Gluck himself” at the Paris premiere. 555 Ultimately, his goal in the letter was to show that he understood and adhered to Gluck’s dramatic and compositional genius and that he promoted the Classical tradition that thrived in Berlin. Despite Spontini’s attempts to assuage the critics, many still believed that Spontini was responsible for the changes in Berlin’s musical culture. The reviews of the 1837 Armide revealed a strange mixture of lamentation, noting the infrequent performances of works by Classical-era composers, and honor, as critics cite the occasional performances of Gluck’s operas in the city. Writing anonymously for the AmZ in February 1837, Rellstab noted that Berlin’s proud Gluck tradition under B. A. Weber’s directorship had been in decline since the retirement of Milder-Hauptmann and the growing popularity of the newer Italian and French operas: 555 Ibid. 261 It remains an odd fact that Berlin is still the only place where Gluck’s Armide (first brought to the stage here in 1804 by B. A. Weber with Margarete Schick, as Iphigenia in Tauris before and in 1809 also Iphigenia in Aulis by the daughter of the deceased Schick) could again be given so worthy a performance and still meet with such enthusiastic interest in the year 1837 after several years of deprivation—caused by the departure of singers Milder and Schultz from the Hofoper—no matter how spoiled and overwrought the newer taste may be by Italian and French music. 556 Merkwürdig bleibt es immer, dass Berlin noch der einzige Ort ist, wo Gluck’s Armide (1804 durch B. A. Weber mit Margarete Schick zuerst hier auf die Bühne gebracht, wie früher Iphigenia in Tauris und 1809 auch Iphigenia in Aulis durch die Tochter der damals bereits verstorbenen Schick) noch im Jahre 1837 nach mehrjähriger – durch den Abgang der Sängerinnen Milder und Schultz von der königl. Bühne veranlassen –Entbehrung, im Ganzen so würdig wieder zur Darstellung gelangen und lebhafte Theilnahme finden konnte, so verwöhnt und überreizt auch der neuere Geschmack durch italienische und französische Musik ist. Rellstab repeated and expanded on this sentiment in a report for the ZfdeW published six days after Spontini’s letter. For Rellstab, the cuts from, additions to, and poor quality of the performances of Gluck’s works represented a far larger concern than mere changes to Gluck’s music. Berlin’s public, according to Rellstab, had long resisted the newer French and Italian opera composers, yet this was all changing: The most important musical event this time indisputably was the revival of the greatest musical dramatic work of art on this earth— Gluck’s unmatched, awe-inspiring Armide. As long as Berlin maintains its noble supremacy in the arts by treating works of this kind according to their merit, we boldly challenge all of Europe’s capitals to compare the state of their arts with ours. What matters is not the possession of single great talents for performance, or the amassing of brilliant artistic resources, or virtuosity, which has been exaggerated to the dizzying extremes of rivalry, and its appreciation; what matters is whether the sense for the truly 556 [Ludwig Rellstab?], “Nachrichten: Berlin, den 5. Februar 1837,” AmZ 39, no. 8 (February 1837): 128. 262 beautiful, great, and sublime in the arts has been maintained in its purest and most extensive form. And in this regard, insofar as we are familiar with the situation of music in the large cities, Berlin prevails over all others. It was here that the sybaritic enjoyment of Rossini and Bellini met with the toughest and longest resistance, and it is here that, in comparison with Vienna, Paris, and London, the idolatry for excessive virtuosity has been least established; that is why the sense for everything Classical in the arts is the most alive here.… In order to cultivate a certain genre, resources far beyond the means of most mid-sized cities are essential; even at the highest degree of art appreciation, Gluck’s operas will always be truly understood by only a select few, considering with what more recent art has spoiled its listeners. Theaters which do not enjoy the support of a higher authority cannot subsist on these select few, however, and thus a further element has to combine with Gluck’s pure art in order to guarantee a broader audience. This consists first and foremost of an appropriate production, which only large theaters have the means to stage: namely first-rate singers who have command of the heroic style, a large chorus, and a matching orchestra. In addition to that, there must be no shortage of showy materials, [for example] decorations, costumes, and ballets, not as a matter of substance, but as a matter of success. Berlin has had a wealth of all of this since the year 1815, not mentioning an earlier period; thus, like a secure fortress, it was able to prevent the tumultuous encroachment of barbaric art, if this severe expression may be permitted. As long as the stage was able to present Gluck’s works appropriately (which gloriously was the case until about 1829 thanks to Milder and Schechner), we have seen every modern work powerlessly sink when put alongside his greatness, the tinsel of Italian and French art (Rossini, Meyerbeer, Mercadante, Auber) had to yield everywhere to his solid gold. It was only then that we entered a virtually Alexandrian age of opera, and Rossini and Bellini found space where Gluck sadly withdrew himself. Only now and then he resurfaced among the distorted caricatures and bustling carnival masks that displaced him; however, peoples’ minds were already weaned off him, the door to tempting ruin had opened too widely. Almost a decade went by; the regression in art appreciation which can take place in this period of time is immeasurable; and the danger of its complete loss grew. Yet with deprivation, longing, too, grew stronger in a large part [of society], and when, due to the presence of Frl. von Fassmann, the opportunity was recognized, the desire to once again hear one of Gluck’s long-shelved works was voiced. The singer’s talent and personality decided in favor of a revival of 263 Gluck’s Armide after she had first tried her strengths in Iphigenia, [a work] that has never completely disappeared from the stage. Everyone’s wishes pushed towards this great aim. The artistic directorship realized that the only options were a great success or none at all and thus risked everything in order to win everything. And win everything they did. As if the true sun of art chasing away the multitudes of transient meteors, as if the knowledge of original greatness and nobility returning suddenly to everyone’s hearts, Gluck’s immortal work lit a flame of enthusiasm even those with the boldest hope had not dared expect. The work of art stood pure and fresh, as if just created, before us, while it seemed as if the long meager, shallow time had exhausted and sated itself. Never has the poorness of newer creations become so obvious to us as through the impression that Armide made on all the listeners. In the course of ten days, the large opera house was filled to bursting three times now, and at increased ticket prices; moreover, there was such pure-minded enthusiasm for the work that the audience rejected some of the inserted ballets, usually the bait for the masses, with resolute displeasure, and during the third performance objected so strongly that the directorship, or rather Spontini, who had inserted the ballets, had to give in and cut them. You will understand that a native Berliner and supporter of Gluck from his youth, who has always fought for the noble cause of this art with the greatest zeal, is proud of his native city when it presents itself in this fashion, while just a few years ago in Paris a revival of Armide was allowed to fail, and the audience and critics foolishly dismissed it; while about the same time, in Munich, Iphigenia, performed by Schechner, was declared deathly boring and was set aside to eternal oblivion; and while in Vienna, where, it must be admitted, art has completely declined, Gluck’s name belongs among the vanished whom hardly any old musical antiquarian knows and pays attention to anymore. 557 Das wichtigste aller musikalischen Ereignisse aber war diesmal unstreitig die Wiedererweckung des größten musikalische dramatischen Kunstwerks, welches die Erde besitzt, Gluck's unerreichte wunderwürdige Armide. So lang Berlin den edlen Vorrang in der Kunst behauptet, Werken dieser Art ihre richtige Geltung anzuweisen, fordern wir dreist jede Hauptstadt Europas heraus, ihren Kunstzustand mit dem unsrigen zu messen. Nicht auf 557 Ludwig Rellstab, “Correspondenz. Aus Berlin. (Fortsetz.) [Armide – Robinson Crusoe – Clara Wieck.],” ZfdeW 49 (10 March 1837):195-96. Oddly, within this report he does acknowledge the need to insert new music and make changes to the score in order to garner a broader audience. 264 den Besitz einzelner größerer Talente für die Ausübung, nicht auf die Häufung einer Masse glänzender Kunstmittel, nicht auf die bis auf eine schwindelnde Spitze der Nebenbuhlerschaft getriebene Virtuosität und deren Schätzung kommt es an: sondern darauf, ob der Sinn für das echte Schone, Große und Erhabene in der Kunst am reinsten und ausgebreitetsten erhalten ist, und diesen Vorzug behauptet, so weit uns musikalische Zustände größerer Städte bekannt sind, Berlin vor allen andern. Hier am schwersten und letzten hat sich der sybaritische Genuß an Rossini und Bellini geltend gemacht, hier am wenigsten im Vergleich mit Wien, Paris, London ist dieser Götzendienst mit übergipfelten Virtuosenkünsten heimisch geworden; daher hat sich hier der Sinn für alles Classische in der Kunst am regsten erhalten. ... Für die Pflege einer gewissen Kunstgattung sind aber großartigere Mittel, als die meisten Mittelstädte besitzen, unerläßlich; selbst beim gebildetsten Kunstzustande werden Gluck's Opern, bei dem, womit neuere Kunst die Hörer verwöhnt hat, immer nur einer ausgewählten Zahl verstandene Genüsse bereiten. Von diesen Wenigen aber können Bühnen, die nicht von höherer Seite eine Unterstützung genießen, nicht bestehen, und es muß sich daher ein anderes Element mit der reinen Kunst Gluck's verbinden, um ihr eine breitere Basis der Theilnahme zu sichern. Dies besteht zuerst in einer würdigen Darstellung, wozu nur große Bühnen die Mittel aufbringen können, nämlich wahrhaft erste Singer, und Sängerinnen, die des heroischen Stils mächtig sind, ein zahlreicher Chor, ein entsprechendes Orchester. Nächst dem dürfen nicht der Sache, aber des Erfolgs wegen auch die Glanzmittel, Decorationen, Costüme, Ballette nicht fehlen. Dies alles besaß Berlin, um einer frühern Periode nicht zu gedenken, seit dem Jahre 18l5 im reichsten Maaße; daher vermochte es, wie eine sichere Feste, den stürmischen Andrang barbarischer Kunst, wenn man uns diesen harten Ausdruck gestatten will, abzuhalten. So lange die Bühne noch fähig war. Gluck's Werke würdig darzustellen (welches durch die Milder und Schechner bis etwa zum Jahre 1829 im vollsten Glanze geschah), haben wir alles Moderne ohnmächtig neben seiner Hoheit sinken sehen, hat der Flitterglanz italienischer und französischer Kunst (Rossini, Meyerbeer, Mercadante, Auber) seinem gediegenen Golde überall weichen müssen. Von da ab trat erst gewissermaßen ein alexandrinisches Zeitalter der Oper bei uns ein, und Rossini und Bellini fanden Raum, wo Gluck sich trauernd zurückzog. Nur einzeln tauchte er dann und wann unter den verzerrten Karikaturen, unter dem Larvengewühl, das ihn verdrängte, auf; aber schon war der Sinn von ihm entwöhnt, dem lockenden Verderben das Thor zu weit geöffnet. Fast ein 265 Jahrzehend ging dahin; es ist unermeßlich, welche Rückschritte die Kunstbildung in einem solchen Zeiträume thun kann; die Gefahr ward dringender, daß der Sinn dafür ganz verloren gehen könnte. Aber mit der Entbehrung war bei einem großen Theile auch die Sehnsucht mächtiger geworden, und immer lebhafter sprach sich, als man durch die Anwesenheit der Frln. v. Faßmann nur die Möglichkeit dazu sah, der Wunsch aus, einmal eines jener lang zurückgelegten Werke Gluck's wieder zu hören. Talent und Persönlichkeit der Sängerin entschieden, nachdem sie zuerst in der nie ganz von der Bühne verschwundenen Iphigenia ihre Kräfte versucht hatte, für die Wiederbelebung Armidens. Alle Wünsche drängten, sich nach diesem großen Ziele hin. Man sah von Seiten der Intendanz ein, daß man hier nur die Wahl zwischen einem großen und gar keinem Erfolg habe, und wagte daher Alles, um Alles zu gewinnen. Man hat Alles gewonnen. Als sei durch diese eine, wahrhafte Sonne der Kunst die ganze Schaar flüchtiger Meteore verscheucht worden, als kehre plötzlich das Bewußtsein ursprünglicher Große und Hoheit in Aller Brust zurück, so entzündete Gluck’s unsterbliches Werk eine Flamme der Begeisterung, wie sie von denen, welche die kühnsten Hoffnungen hegten, nicht erwartet worden war. Als hätte die lange dürftige, hohle Zeit sich selbst aufgerieben und übersättigt, so stand das Kunstwerk rein, frisch wie eben geschaffen vor uns da. Nie ist uns die Aermlichkeit neuerer Schöpfungen so anschaulich geworden als durch den Eindruck, welchen Armide auf alle Hörer machte. Drei Mal nunmehr war im Laufe von zehn Tagen das große Opernhaus bei erhöhten Preisen bis zum Brechen gefüllt; ja, mehr als das, es zeigte sich eine so reine positive Begeisterung für das Werk, daß das Publicum mit entschiedenem Unwillen einige eingelegte Ballets, sonst die Lockspeise der Masse, zurückwies und bei der dritten Aufführung sich so entschieden dagegen erklärte, daß die Intendanz oder vielmehr Spontini, welcher die Ballets eingelegt hat, nachgeben und sie weglassen mußte. Sie werden es begreiflich finden, daß ein geborner Berliner, von Jugend auf ein Anhänger Gluck’s, der stets die große Sache dieser Kunst mit höchstem Eifer geführt hat, stolz auf seine Vaterstadt ist, wenn sie sich so zeigt, während Paris noch vor wenigen Jahren eine Wiederbelebung der Armide gänzlich fallen ließ, und Publicum und Kritiker sich gleich thöricht darüber erklärten; während zu etwa derselben Zeit in München die Iphigenia, von einer Schechner dargestellt, für das tödtlich langweiligste Werk erachtet und zu ewiger Vergessenheit bei Seite gelegt wurde; während in Wien, wo freilich die Kunst ganz verfallen ist, Gluck's 266 Name zu den verschollenen gehört, die kaum noch ein alter musikalischer Antiquar kennt und beachtet. In Rellstab’s historiography of Berlin’s cultural development, the city took over the position as protector and cultivator of the Classical tradition from places like Vienna and Paris. Under Weber’s leadership, Berlin became a mighty fortress that could defend itself from the onslaught of the newer Italian and French opera. 558 Spontini, though, supposedly single-handily unraveled Berlin’s longstanding Classical tradition: Spontini ruined Gluck’s operas by making too many concessions to mass audiences, and these outlandish elements infiltrated the Hofoper repertoire and Gluck’s operas. The outlandish ballets, cuts to the score, and obscene theatrical effects infected Gluck’s Armide, penetrating Berlin’s fortress of culture, and sickening the masses. There was still a glimmer of hope, in Rellstab’s estimation, as audiences hissed and booed at the inserted ballet in the first act and Spontini made a concession to maintaining the integrity of Gluck’s opera. Despite Rellstab’s assertion that the opera house was near capacity for most performances and that audiences rejected Spontini’s changes, there were some critics who stated that the performance of Armide was not well attended and that the opera was no longer relevant in the 19th century. In a May issue of the AmZ, a writer identified as Der Erzählende (The Narrator) brought this local debate into the national arena. With the influx and general acceptance of newer French and Italian operas on the Berlin stage, Der 558 Stephen Meyer notes that many German critics often used military metaphors and that the taste for Italian opera was likened to a disease when describing the struggles of German opera against foreign influences in the 19th century; see Carl Maria von Weber and the Search for a German Opera (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2003), 111. 267 Erzählende asserted that individuals needed to put aside their cosmopolitan pretenses and decide which works they really enjoyed: It is not without self-consciousness that Berlin points out that is the only place where Gluck’s Armide can still please everyone so vividly despite the overexcitement caused by newer French and Italian music. I have indeed wondered myself sometimes how in one and the same place Gluck, Bellini and Halevy’s La Juive can equally enchant to the same degree. I have always believed that it could not be possible, and a person of true feeling and passion must declare a preference for one or the other in the end if he does not want to appear indifferent. 559 Nicht ohne Selbstgefühl macht Berlin darauf aufmerksam, dass es immer noch der einzige Ort sei, wo Gluck’s Armide bei aller Ueberreizung durch neue Italien. und franz. Musik so lebhaft gefallen könne. Darüber habe ich mich freilich auch schon manchmal gewundert, wie an einem- und demselben Orte Gluck, Bellini und Halévy’s Jüdin gleichmässig entzücken können. Ich habe immer geglaubt, das sei nicht wohl möglich, und der Mensch, der wahrhaft und lebhaft empfindet, müsse am Ende doch Einem oder dem Andern den Vorzug geben, wenn er nicht indifferent erscheinen will. What particularly interested Der Erzählende was the scathing review of the 1837 performance from the Mitternachtszeitung, briefly mentioned above, which was printed in two parts in February 1837 and written as a first-person narrative. In the first section, the narrator discussed his visit to Berlin during the Christmas Festivals in 1823. At the end of his stay, on New Year’s Day, the narrator saw the advertisement for a performance of Gluck’s Armide: When [the reviewer] Buchfink was commenting upon Gluck in the Journal, he was unable to express himself and always used very many exclamation points and words printed in expanded character spacing. I had to see and hear this; however, I was running out of 559 “Der Erzählender,” “Glucks Opern in Berlin: oder ‘Was ist das?’” AmZ 39, no. 20 (May 1837): 327. 268 money, and my cousin did not like opera, especially magical plots, which he felt always came out as too unnatural. 560 Wenn Buchfink im Journal auf Gluck gestoßen war, da hatte er immer gar keinen Ausdruck gehabt, und hatte immer sehr viel Ausrufungszeichen und auseinander gedruckte Worte verbracht. Das mußt‘ ich sehen und hören; aber meine Kasse ging zu Ende, und der Vetter liebte die Opern nicht, besonders Zaubergeschichten, meinte er, seien jedesmal zu unnatürlich. The narrator’s only point of comparison was Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte, which pleased him greatly. He was able to convince his host, Madame Urban, to take him and his cousin to the performance. Upon hearing the performance he commented: “Every type of splendor and brilliance appeared, but I hoped from one act to the next [that] the essence, the pleasure was yet to come; I became very impatient and even saw with amazement that my cousin was asleep at the end. ... I would not get over this [performance of] Armide in my lifetime.” 561 With his first experience of Gluck’s Armide a disappointment, the narrator returned to Berlin to hear the 1837 performance with hopes of having a different experience. During the intervening years, he had listened to performances of Mozart’s operas and Gluck’s Iphigenia (though not specifying which one) and found “the simplicity, the softness of the violins [Geigenweiche], the melodies of that lyrical composition had graciously moved me....” 562 Furthermore, he now recognized Gluck as 560 “Armide in Berlin,” Mitternachtszeitung, 12, no. 30 (February 1837): 118. 561 “Pracht und Herrlichkeit aller Art erschien, aber ich hoffte von einem Akte zum andern, das Eigentliche, das Vergnügen werde noch kommen, ich wurde sehr ungeduldig und sah am Ende gar mit Schrecken, daß der Vetter eingeschlafen sei. ... Diese Armide werd’ ich mein Lebtag nicht verwinden”; ibid., 119. 562 “das Einfache, Geigenweiche, Melodiöse jener lyrischen Composition hatte mich anmuthigst bewegt...”; ibid., 123. 269 “the beginning of a great path” (Der Angang eines großen Weges) that Mozart followed upon and that stood in direct contrast to the Italian “Spielerei.” Still, when the writer of the Mitternachtszeitung heard Gluck’s Armide, he remained unmoved and found not only the performance but also the opera itself a disappointment. His concluding paragraphs contradict the writings of Rellstab, asserting that Berlin’s opera-going public no longer appreciated the operas of Gluck and that these works held no relevancy for modern crowds: These [Gluck’s] operas have their unique greatness and degree of historical importance [and] influence, but it seems very unwise to us to extol them as something exhaustively excellent. There is a lot of idle talk to this effect in Berlin, indeed, people are being terrorized by it: Armide is beautiful beyond description, or [if you don’t agree] you have no taste! 563 Diese Opern haben ihr einzeln Grosses und historisch Wichtiges, Einflussreiches, aber es scheint uns sehr unklug, sie als erschöpfend Vortreffliches anzupreisen. In dem letztern Sinne wird nun hier (in Berlin) sehr lebhaft gefaselt, ja, ein wahrer Terrorismus damit getrieben: Die Armide ist über alle Beschreibung schön, oder Sie haben keinen Geschmack! The writer for the Mitternachtszeitung did not confine his vitriolic statements to Gluck’s Armide, but launched them against Rellstab and his supporters: [It] may be gladly admitted that more intellectual people than the swaggering Mr. Rellstab rave about it, he who staggers in drunkenness about Gluck and tears down Gluck’s most blatant student, Spontini; it may even be welcomed and appear desirable that the audience takes an interest in the performance of such an opera, however, the truth must be told, and the lie must be reproved. First the lie of taste, which people talk themselves into having as a merit, and second the lie of the account of such performances. It says in the newspaper [that] the audience was enthusiastic—that is not true, the large Sunday audience was 563 “Armide in Berlin,” 124, cited in Erzählende, “Glucks Opern in Berlin,” 328. 270 lukewarm—and I’m afraid, afraid, Herr [Friedrich] von Raumer, who affects a very Classical air, joyfully disappeared from the theater after the third act, after which his locked seat remained empty, and in the end, he wrote the article for the Staatszeitung— which happily expounds upon enjoyable classicism—instead of watching the final acts. 564 Ganz gern mag zugegeben sein, daß geistreichere Leute als der schwadronierende Herr Rellstab dafür eisern, der über Gluck in Trunkenheit taumelt, und dessen eklatantesten Schüler Spontini herrunterreißte, es mag sogar gern angesehen sein und wünschenswerth erscheinen, daß das Publikum Interesse an der Aufführung solcher Opern nimmt, aber das Nöthige muß doch gesagt, und die Lüge muß doch gerrügt werden. Einmal die Lüge des Geschmackes, welche man sich zum Verdienst einredet, dann die Lüge des Berichts über dergleich Aufführungen. Da heißt’s in den Zeitungen, das Publikum, ein zahlreiches, sonntägliches war sehr lau, und ich fürchte, ich fürchte, Herr v. Raumer, der auch sehr klassische thut, war nach dem dritten Akte, wo sein Sperrsitz leer blieb, in lauter Freude aus dem Hause verschwunden, und er hat am Ende, statt die letzten Akte anzusehn, den Artikel in die Staatszeitung geschrieben, welcher sich so glücklich über die genußreiche Klassicität äußerte. In response to these statements, Der Erzählende found that the writer for the Mitternachtszeitung revealed an underlying truth that had been hidden all along. In the AmZ, Der Erzählende responded to critiques in the Mitternachtszeitung, asking: How is it then? Was it so? Basically, I find the account of the man very natural. In Berlin there will probably be people who have a taste for Gluck’s operas and people who do not have a taste for Gluck’s operas. If it were so in Berlin as everywhere else then, this would indeed be nothing extraordinary, but something certainly in the order of things, which as a healthy natural reality would always be more beneficial than the Classical morning dream of some quill or a painted fire, the flames of which have not been finished. 565 564 Ibid. 565 Der Erzählender, “Glucks Opern in Berlin,” 328. 271 Wie ist denn das? war es so? Im Grunde finde ich die Erzählung des Mannes sehr natürlich. Es wird wohl in Berlin Leute geben, die an Gluck’s Opern Geschmack finden, und Leute, die an Gluck’s Opern keinen Geschmack finden. Wäre es dann in Berlin auch gerade so, wie überall: so wäre dies zwar in Wahrheit nichts Ausserordentliches, aber doch gewiss etwas Ordentliches, was als gesunde Naturwirklichkeit immer viel zuträglicher wäre, als der klassische Morgentraum irgend einer Federspule, oder ein gemaltes Feuer, an dem die Flammen nicht fertig geworden sind. It is ambiguous whether the writer for the AmZ was disappointed, resigned to, or pleased by this change in the city’s musical culture. At one point, Der Erzählende states, “It is not disgraceful when one eats a cabbage and leaves the oyster behind.” 566 To Der Erzählende, the writer for the Mitternachtszeitung seemed to call upon Berlin critics to reevaluate how they saw themselves in relationship to their readers and how Berlin stood in relation to other European music centers. Was Berlin really any different from all the other European capitals, where the newer Italian and French operas reigned supreme? Der Erzählender ended his essay with the questions: “What is that?” or “What exactly is Berlin’s primary-taste?” 567 In answer to the question, the AmZ printed a letter by the violinist Johann Peter Schmidt, in June 1837: ... It is a fact that Gluck’s, Mozart’s, and Spontini’s operas used to be the most popular here. With the appearance of a new epoch in taste defined by works of Rossini, Auber, Bellini and Meyerbeer, the taste in dramatic music has divided itself into that tending towards the nobly dignified and that tending towards light entertainment. The newer Italian and French school was especially popular with audiences at the Königsstädtische Theater, while Auber’s La muette de Portici and Meyerbeer’s Robert le diable at 566 “Es ist nicht schändlich, wenn Einer Kraut isst und lässt die Austerin liegen”; ibid. 567 Ibid. 272 the royal stage marked the transition to the new French Romantic school. Nevertheless, the true friends of music always remained faithful supporters of the Classical opera of earlier times with unchanging preference and drew strength from them in the face of many an overexcitement or effeminateness of newer dramatic music. We have been almost completely deprived of Gluck’s operas since the departure of Mme. Milder from the stage of the Royal Opera House, and they appeared from time to time only through the guest appearances of Madame Schröder-Devrient, the former Dem. Schechner, and Fräulein von Fassmann. By engaging the latter, it has recently become possible to bring back and reestablish Armide permanently in the repertory of the royal opera in addition to the occasionally heard Iphigenia in Tauris. Gluck may not be fortunate enough to have achieved the “exhaustively excellent” in his operas, in the opinion of the reporter of the Mitternachts-Zeitung, which is problematic already due to this odd description of the beautiful; however, it must not remain un- reproved that the said author of the Mitternachts-Zeitung calls reports about the favorable reception of the performance of Armide in the local newspapers “a lie.” On the contrary, it is completely in accordance with the truth that each well-attended repeat performance of this opera, Armide, of which one follows the last almost too quickly, is always received with the same enthusiasm by the local audience as is reported in the local papers such as this one, and without any “Classical morning dream.” To answer the honest question, “What is this?”, may the equally honest reply, “Thus it is.” 568 ... Dass früher hier Gluck’s, Mozart’s und Spontini’s Opern vorzugsweise beliebt waren, ist factisch. Seit der Erscheinung der eine neue Geschmacks-Epoche bildenden Werke von Rossini, Auber, Bellini und Meyerbeer hat sich allerdings der Geschmack an dramatischer Musik getheilt, sowohl dem gediegen Würdigen, als dem leicht Unterhaltenden sich zuwendend. Die neuere italienische und französische Schule fand besonders bei dem Königsstädtischen Theater-Publicum Anklang, wogegen auf der Königlichen Bühne Auber’s “Stumme” und Meyerbeer’s “Robert 568 J.P. Schmidt, “Die Frage des Erzählenden: ‘Was ist das?’ oder Was ist eigentlich jetzt Berlins Hauptgeschmack?” AmZ 39, no. 23 (June 1837): 379-80. Already noted that Schmidt composed the “Mozart” ending to Gluck’s Aulide (Rehding, Music and Monumentality, 123). 273 der Teufel” den Uebergagn zur neu-romantisch-französischen Schule bezeichneten. Dennoch aber blieben die ächten Musikfreunde hier stets den classischen Opern älterer Zeit mit unveränderter Vorliebe treu anhängend, und stärkten sich an denselben für manche Ueberreizung oder Verweichlichung neuester dramatischen Gesangmusik. Gluck’s Opern waren uns seit dem Abgange der Mad. Milder von der Königl. Bühne fast ganz entzogen und erheilten nur durch die Gastdarstellungen der Mad. Schröder-Devrient, ehemalige Dem. Schechner und des Fräuleins von Fassmann von Zeit zu Zeit wieder Eingang. Durch die Anstellung der letztgenannten Sängerin wurde es erst seit Kurzem möglich, ausser der mitunter gehörten “Iphigenia in Tauris” auch “Armide” wieder bleibend auf das hiesige Königl. Opern-Repertoir zu bringen. Wenn nun Gluck auch nicht so glücklich ist, von dem angeführten Berichterstatter der Mitternachts-Zeitung, in seinen Opern “erschöpfend vortrefflich” befunden zu werden, was freilich seine Schwierigkeiten schon in dieser sonderbaren Bezeichnung des Schönen findet, so darf es doch nicht ungerügt bleiben, dass der gedachte Referent der Mitternachts-Zeitung Berichte über die beifällig aufgenommene Aufführung der Armide in den hiesigen Zeitung als “Lüge” bezeichnet! Es ist vielmehr vollkommen der Wahrheit gemäss, dass Armide mit stets gleichem Enthusiasmus von dem hiesigen Publicum bei den fast zu schnell auf einander folgenden, jedesmal sehr zahlreich besuchten Wiederholungen dieser Oper aufgenommen, wie dies auch glaubhaft in den hiesigen, wie in dieser Zeitung ohne “klassischen Morgentraum” berichtet ist. Auf die aufrichtige Frage: “Was ist das?” genüge mithin die eben so aufrichtige Erwiderung: “So ist das.” At the end of Schmidt’s response, the editor of the AmZ, Gottfried Wilhelm Fink, added an epilogue to bring the discussion to a close. The editor placated both sides, claiming each had its own valid points and that the principle taste of Berlin was mixed, though turning toward the new. 569 Additionally, he called on critics to put aside their egoism, saying they should not accuse the other side of lying about the attendance at the 569 “Nachschrift der Redaction,” AmZ 39, no. 23 (June 1837): 380. 274 performances; such an action would make the public distrustful of criticism. Fink, however, missed the urgency motivating Rellstab’s and others’ reviews of the 1837 Armide. 570 Not only had the works of the 19th-century French and Italian composers taken over the stage of the Berlin theaters and corrupted the public’s taste, but this new style of music had also infiltrated and changed Gluck’s operas themselves. Even prior to 1837, critics questioned Gluck’s relevancy in the 19th century, wondering if people could really enjoy a work from the 18th century when Rossini and his contemporaries provided them with lascivious entertainment. Writing from Dresden in1830 for the BamZ, Paul Spazier discussed the reasons a performance of Iphigenia in Tauris had failed: In Dresden, where Calderon shares the fate of Shakespeare when he fails to ‘amuse’ the season ticketholders sufficiently— how can Gluck, such ‘an old, learned pedant’ hope for consideration? In Dresden, where the ‘musical lasciviousness’ cultivated by Rossini and others cheers on its foremost German singer with raging applause, bodies and voices wreathing in dithyrambic convolutions—how could the audience and the singer herself find pleasure in the measured pace, the noble stance, the chaste melodies of a Greek priestess in a grove of German oaks? That, indeed, is the point! Lascivious sensuality, whether in the guise of aural titillation or visual sensationalism, is today’s motto, and whereas rigor and cruelty of feeling are most intimately related to the same [i.e. to feeling], at the opposite end of the spectrum, diabolical tremolos, piccolo flutes and noisy timpani are all the more effective as a contrast because all that is needed to stimulate a new titillation is to let some more benumbing opium trickle into a flagged mind. 571 570 Both John Warrack, (German Opera: from the Beginnings to Wagner [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001], 340-41) and Helmut Kirchmeyer, (Situationsgeschichte der Musikkritik, xix) note that under Fink’s direction, the AmZ entered a period of superficial reports with no direct confrontation over the state and situation of music and opera in German-speaking areas. 571 P. O. Spazier, “Berichte. Musikbericht aus Dresden,” BamZ 7, no. 15 (April 1830): 15. Dresden experienced its own debate over the relevancy and importance of Gluck’s Armide when Wagner conducted the opera in 1843. This debate has been well documented in Helmut Kirchmeyer’s Situationsgeschichte 275 In Dresden, wo es dem C a l d e r o n ergeht wie dem S h a k e s p e a r e, wenn er die Abonnenten nicht gehörig “amüsirt” – wie kann Gluck, so “ein alter gelehrter Pedant” auf nur einige Berücksichtigung hoffen? In Dresden, wo die, durch Rossini und andre gepflegte, “musikalische Lüsternheit” ihrer ersten deutschen Sängerin uns in dythyrambischen Windungen des Körpers und der Stimme wüthenden Beifall zujauchzt– wie kann man an dem gemessenen Schritt, an der würdigen Haltung, an den keuschen Tongängen einer griechischen Priesterin in einem deutschen Eichenhaine, und diese Sängerin selbst an diesen Dingen Gefallen finden? Wahrlich, das ist der Punkt! Lüsterner Sinnengenuss, verkleidet er sich nun in Ohrenkitzel oder Augenschaulust, ist die Losung des Tages, und, wie Härte und Grausamkeit des Gefühls mit demselben innig verwandt ist, so sprechen auf der andern Seite diabolische Tremulando’s, Pikkolflöten und Paukenlärm, als Konstraste desto mehr an, weil in eine erschlaffte Seele nur desto mehr betäubendes Opium zu träufeln ist, damit eine neue Kitzelbewegnung folgen könne. Whereas Marx and Rellstab found that Gluck’s music sounded fresh and noble against the decaying works of Rossini, Spazier, with a healthy dose of irony, observed that operas of the past could no longer amuse the average listener of the present. From Berliners’ point of view, this paradigm shift away from the Classical canon toward the Romantic school had begun taking hold of audiences in other European cities in the 1820s and ʼ30s. As this debate occurred in 1837, Berlin critics were, to put it bluntly, late to the game—they had been so busy condemning other European cities for neglecting Gluck’s operas and upholding themselves as ardent supporters of the Classical canon, that they had failed to realize that Berlin’s cultural milieu was undergoing a similar shift. Berlin critics were finally forced to accept the current situation: not only were audiences’ der Musikkritik und des musikalischen Pressewesens in Deutschland, IV Teil: Das zeitgenössische Wagner- Bild, vol. 4, Wagner in Dresden (Regensburg: Gustav Bosse, 1967). 276 preferences changing, but Gluck’s operas themselves needed to be changed in order to remain on the 19th-century operatic stage. The last word in the 1837 debate came from Rellstab. In September, he wrote a nine-part biography of Gluck for his own journal, Iris, in which he tried to answer the question of Gluck’s place in the 19th century. The biography is full of allusions to and citations of 18th-century writings, as well as unquestionable praise for the composer. Rellstab, for example, wrote that, “It was Gluck’s gigantic shadow that rendered us this beneficent service, since he, embodied by his three great works, again showed himself on stage, establishing once more his power as a ruler—we would almost like to say, as an autocrat—in the realm of the noblest dramatic music.” 572 Regarding Gluck’s musical studies in Italy and early career before Orfeo, Rellstab briefly noted that that time in Gluck’s career and those works were completely unknown to people––as if to imply they were an inconsequential matter. 573 For Rellstab, Orfeo represented that “[he] had the courage to break away from a career that not only promised him brilliant success, but had provided him with such lavish success as any artist could hope for.” 574 Rellstab manipulated Gluck’s biography, making him conform to the writer’s personal agenda to contrast Gluck’s career, which was a rejection of fame and wealth, with those of Rossini and other Italian and French composers. Additionally, as with Marx’s writing for the 572 “Diesen segenvollen Dienst hat uns Gluck’s gigantischer Schatten jetzt geleistet, da er sich in seinen drei größten Werken verkörpert, wieder von der Bühne herab zeigte und seine Herrschergewalt– wir möchten fast sagen seine Alleinherrschergewalt, – in dem Gebiet der edelsten dramatischen Musik wiederum mächtig geltend macht”; Ludwig Rellstab, “Ueberlick der Erzeugnisse. Gluck,” Iris im Gebiete der Tonkunst 8, no. 36 (1 September 1837), 142. 573 As noted earlier, 19th-century German critics at least had access to Reichardt’s writing about Gluck, in which he provides anecdotal stories of Gluck’s time in Italy and the operas he composed there. 574 “Er hatte den Muth sich von einer Laufbahn loszureißen, welche ihm nicht bloß glänzende Erfolge versprach, sondern schon die reichsten gewährt hatte, die einem Künstler überhaupt nur werden können”; ibid., 146. 277 BamZ, he encouraged young composers to embrace Gluck’s operas as a model for their own compositions. During his discussion of Gluck’s roles in the Querelle des Gluckistes et Piccinnistes, Rellstab alluded to the debates over Armide in 1837. In his conception of 18th-century Paris, the Querelle was the “...highest point of criticism, especially music criticism.” Yet Gluck survived all of these debates and even brought detractors (i.e., Rousseau) over to his side. 575 After quoting from the Piccinniste La Harpe’s “Essai sur les revolutions de la musique en France,” Rellstab asked the question: Who among the favorites idolized by our critic, with their charming music, is actually still known today? In terms of history, some of the names have been preserved. But the number of those [listeners] who know even just one piece by Piccinni, (who, after all, later became an epigone of Gluck), Jomelli, Traetta, etc., declines day by day, and their knowledge (as that of this essay’s author) dates back to a long bygone time of about thirty years or more, or else it derives from occasional study of the kind where you leaf through an old curiosity. In fifty years’ time, those who still know a piece by Rossini (who, after all, is extraordinarily talented), Bellini, etc. will be equally rare; however, even then every connoisseur will still know Gluck’s music by heart. 576 Welcher von den vergötterten Lieblingen unsers Kritikers denn mit seiner reizenden Musik heut noch gekannt ist. Historisch haben sich einige Namen erhalten. Aber diejenigen, die auch nur noch ein Stück von Piccinni, (der doch später sogar Glucks Nachahmer wurde), Jomelli, Traetta, u.s.w. kennen, werden täglich seltner, und ihre Kenntniß rührt (wie die des Verfassers dieses Aufsatzes) entweder aus einer längst verklungenen Zeit, von etwa dreißig Jahren und darüber, oder von einem gelegentlichen Studium her, wie man etwa in einer alten Curiosität blättert. Eben so selten werden nach fünfzig Jahren die seyn, die noch ein Stück von Rossini, (der doch ausgezeichnetes Talent besitzt), Bellini u.s.w. 575 “Hoher Standpunkt der Kritik, und insbesondere der musikalischen Kritik”; ibid., 155. 576 Ibid., 165. Of note, Rellstab claimed (61) “…that Jomelli was the proscribed Rossini of his day” (“…daß Jomelli der ächte Rossini seiner Zeit war.”) 278 gehört haben; alle Kenner aber werden auch dann noch Glucks erhabene Musik auswendig wissen. All throughout this biography, Rellstab created the image of a composer who stood victorious over his foes and overcame the vitriolic attacks of critics. This victory, however, was not to be confined to the 18th century, but lasted well into the 19th century, when he would once again vanquish the onslaught of the newer Italian and French composers. To close his biography, Rellstab directed his attention to the recent productions of Gluck’s operas on the Berlin stage: Perhaps we will pick up this thread again at some point and add a second part to our disquisition, which will give a critique of the productions of Armide and Iphigénie en Tauride and examine the parallels between the two works mentioned. The author feels urged to take on this task, even more so as he has to make amends for a youthful error, committed by passing a very immature judgment on the merit of Armide in relationship to Gluck’s other artistic creations, an error which, from the audience’s perspective, is not attributed to him, as he did not yet sign [his contributions] back then (at the very beginning of his literary career), but which, from a personal perspective, he considers weighty enough and about which he feels sufficiently remorseful to admit to it in public. — Thus we hope that we will not lack the leisure and opportunity to redress this wrong. 577 Vielleicht dass wir späterhin einmal den Faden wieder aufnehmen, und einen zweiten Theil zu unser Abhandlung schreiben, der die Aufführungen der Armide und Iphigenia in Tauris bespricht, und er die Parallele zwischen den genannten Kunstwerken zieht. Der Verfasser sieht sich um so mehr zu dieser Arbeit gedrängt, als er dadurch einen jugendlichen Irrthum gut zu machen hat, den er durch ein sehr unreifes Urtheil über den Werth der Armide zu den übringen Kunstschöpfungen Glucks begangen, ein Irrthum, der zwar vor dem Publikum nicht auf seine Rechnung fällt, da er sich damals (ganz im Beginn seiner literarischen Laufbahn) noch nicht 577 Ibid., 174. I have been unable to locate the earlier essay about Armide to which he alludes. 279 unterzeichnete, den er aber für sich doch gewichtig und reuig genug empfindet, um ihn öffentlich einzugestehen.– So wollen wir denn hoffen, dass uns Muße und Gelegenheit, diese Schuld zu berichtigen, nicht fehlen werde. Rellstab’s closing statement speaks to one of the two underlying ironies of this debate in 1837. 578 First, many critics, as demonstrated in our discussion of the BamZ and admitted by Rellstab himself, originally found fault with Gluck’s Armide on musical and dramaturgical grounds. In comparison to Gluck’s other Paris operas, critics found the dramatic element to be lacking in various sections, and the entire opera was completely trapped by its outmoded libretto. Second, Spontini altered the score in an attempt to revitalize Gluck’s works for new audiences. Spontini, realizing that musical aesthetics were changing and audiences’ tastes were shifting, carried on the tradition begun by B. A. Weber in Berlin and continued by later composers throughout the 19th century. These changes were not made out of disrespect for the 18th-century composer, but out of a desire to show 19th-century audiences that his music could speak through the ages. In the same year as the debate over Armide raged on in Berlin, one English reviewer noted, “Spontini is doing himself considerable credit by the perseverance with which he continues to recall Gluck in existence. The ‘Iphigeniaʼ has been followed in Berlin by his ‘Armide,’ which met with such distinguished success as to call forth an announcement that it would be immediately succeeded by his ‘Alceste.’” 579 Outsiders were astonished by Berlin’s continued fascination with older music and praised Spontini for maintaining this tradition. Whereas Rellstab and fellow reviewers lamented the end 578 As Stephen Meyer notes, this German struggle against Italian and French opera ultimately played itself out in the imagination of music critics (Carl Maria von Weber and the Search for German Opera, 159). 579 “Chit-chat from the Continent,” The Musical World, A Weekly Record of Musical Science, Literature, and Intelligence 6, no. 67 (June 1837), 24 280 of the city’s Gluck-Pflege, the rest of Europe saw Gluck’s immortal spirit still wandering the streets of Berlin. Spontini left his position in 1842, and Meyerbeer assumed the post the following year. 580 In his inaugural season, Meyerbeer conducted Armide. 581 Perhaps with the foreign Spontini gone and a native Berliner in his place, the reviewer for the AmZ was happy to report that the performance took place “ohne fremdartige Musikeinlagen.” 582 580 Spontini’s departure also took place under a cloud of controversy. See Jürgen Rehm, Zur Musikrezeption im vormärzlichen Berlin, 130-31. 581 To Kabinettsrat Carl Christian Müller, Meyerbeer expressed his wish to stage a new production of Armide in 1845. His letter is reprinted in Giacomo Meyerbeer: Briefwechsel und Tagebücher, vol. 3, ed. Heinz Becker and Gudrun Becker (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter & Co, 1975), 563. 582 “Nachrichten – Berlin,” AmZ 45, no. 47 (26 April 1843): 315, emphasis mine. 281 CHAPTER THREE: CHRISTOPH GLUCK AND KÜNSTLERNOVELLE TRADITION DURING THE BIEDERMEIER PERIOD The meeting between Etienne-Nicolas Méhul and Christoph Willibald Ritter von Gluck is supposed to have occurred at the Café du Feu in the year 1779, during the height of the Querelle des Gluckistes et des Piccinnistes. According to Johann Peter Burmeister-Lyser’s (1804-1870) account, Méhul, scarcely 20 years old, was debating the merit of Gluck’s operas amongst the French critics Saint-Val, Abbé Arnaud and Montespan, along with the German musician Elias Hegrin. Hegrin claimed that Gluck “understands nothing of songs,” to which Méhul replied: ‘Sir, you [Hegrin] are unworthy to be a German, if what you say of your great countryman is said in earnest. That Gluck is really a mighty artist, we are all agreed in Paris; the dispute is only to whom the palm of superior greatness shall be yielded, to him or Piccinni. We all acknowledge that Gluck, equally far from the cold constraint of rules, and from capricious innovation seeks to convey the truest expression of feeling and passion; and sets himself the only true aim that exists for the opera-composer. ... He has set himself one task, pursuing that, however, with all his strength, according to the mission of the free-born spirit!’ ‘What is your name, young man?’ asked a sonorous voice behind the speaker. All looked in that direction; the man in the corner stood up, the light of the candles shining full on his face. ‘The Chevalier Gluck!’ cried they all in astonishment. ‘The same!’ replied Gluck, smiling... . The youth trembled with delight, and bowing low to the master, answered – ‘My name is Etienne Méhul, and I am a musician.’ ‘That I heard,’ said Gluck; ‘I shall be glad if you will visit me; here is my address.’ 282 Gluck then turned to his former student, Hegrin, and berated him for his “blasphemes” and inability to capture “the spirit” of art, only recreating its lifeless form. 583 Lyser’s story notwithstanding, Méhul never studied with Gluck nor made any such claim. 584 As for Lyser, musicologists have dismissed or overlooked his writings because of his somewhat tawdry style, and dubious claims regarding his personal life (i.e., his assertion of a close relationship with Carl Maria von Weber’s and Mozart’s sons, and presentation of forgeries such as Mozart’s own German translation of Don Giovanni, for example). 585 Stephan Wortsmann describes Lyser’s novella “Gluck in Paris” as “amusing,” 586 and Lyser’s only biographer, Friedrich Hirth, claims that everything in the story is a “cliché” and “fairly trivial.” 587 Writing from Dresden in February 1836 to 583 “Gluck in Paris” first appeared in the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik (hereafter NZfM) as J. Burmeister- Lyser, “Gluck in Paris. Vom Verfasser des ‘Vater Doles’ etc.” 5, nos. 45-49 (December 1836): 179-80, 183-84, 187-89, 191-92, 195-96. It was later republished in the second volume of Lyser’s collection Neue Kunst-Novelle (Frankfurt am Main: Johann David Sauerländer, 1837), 77-114. Translations of Lyser’s novella come from Elizabeth Fries Ellet’s Nouvellettes of the Musicians (New York: Cornish, Lamport & Co., 1851), 184-200 (subsequent citations are from Ellet). The novella was translated into French for the Belgian journal, La Renaissance: Chronique des arts et de la littérature 1 (1839-40): 145-50. The character Elias Hegrin is a recurring figure in Lyser’s work, and appears in his story “Vincenzo Bellini,” published in Lyser’s Neue Kunst-Novelle. 584 See M. Elizabeth C. Bartlet, Etienne-Nicolas Méhul and Opera: Source and Archival Studies of Lyrical theatre during the French Revolution, Consulate, and Empire (Heilbronn: Music-Edition L. Gallard, 1999), 664n for a discussion of the origin of the Gluck-Méhul myth. 585 Paul Nettl mentions Lyser’s dubious behavior of forging a translation of Don Giovanni in “Mozart and the Czechs,” Musical Quarterly 27, no. 3 (July 1941): 331-32 and Ulrich Tadday’s and Reinhold Sietz’s entry on Lyser in the Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart: allgemeine Enzyklopädie der Musik, vol. 11 (Kassel and New York: Bärenreiter, 2007), 673-74, briefly discusses Lyser’s false statements about the Weber’s and Mozart’s sons in “Zweier Meister Söhne. Eine Erinnerung von J. P. Lyser,” in the NZfM 21, no. 43-44 (25 November 1844): 169-71, 173-75. The writer would repeat a similar anecdote in his Erinnerungen an Giacomo Meyerbeer, published in the Neue Berliner Musik-Zeitung 18, no. 28 (13 July 1864): 220-21, translation published in The Musical World 42, no. 30 (23 July 1864): 468. Lyser is also known for his portrait of Beethoven walking the streets of Vienna, first printed in the journal Cäcilia in 1833. Lyser wrote that the portrait was “drawn truthfully after nature...” thought Lyser never met Beethoven (Alessandra Comini, The Changing Image of Beethoven: A Study in Mythmaking [New York: Rizzoli, 1987], 84). Throughout his biography, Friedrich Hirth brings Lyser’s statements regarding his own life into question and provides an explanation for his falsifications (Johann Peter Lyser: Der Dichter, Maler, Musiker [Munich and Leipzig: Georg Müller, 1911]). 586 Stephan Wortsmann, Die deutsche Gluck-Literatur (Nuremburg: Koch, 1914), 110. 587 Friedrich Hirth, Johann Peter Lyser, 195. 283 Robert Schumann, who first published the story in his Neue Zeitschrift für Musik that year, Lyser stated only that with “Gluck in Paris” he had a new “delightful Novella” in his head that would be about Gluck and, precisely, Paris. 588 In subsequent letters to Schumann regarding the publishing of “Gluck in Paris” and other novellas, it seems Lyser’s real concern was neither the historical accuracy nor the artistic merit of his narratives, but money. 589 Gluck was not alone in being subjected to fictionalized treatment by 19th-century authors; many anecdotal accounts about Mozart and Beethoven, in particular, were published throughout the century. 590 Lyser’s “Gluck in Paris” belongs to the much larger and popular Künstlernovelle genre, which was written for the growing mass market in the Biedermeier period. 591 Though this genre presents readers with historical inaccuracies about various composers, musicologists realize that these fictional portrayals, misleading biographies, and misremembered anecdotes affect how the general public perceived a composer and his or her works. 592 In his essay about Johann Friedrich Rochlitz’s 588 Lyser calls it a “köstliche Novella”; quoted in ibid., 188. 589 Ibid., and other letters reprinted on pages 195 to 200. In the letter to Schumann from February, Lyser ends: “...sende mir Gold, Gold, Gold, Gold, Gold, Gold!” 590 Perhaps the best known is Eduard Mörike’s Mozart auf der Reise nach Prag (1851), translated as Mozart on the way to Prague, trans. Walther and Catherine Alison Phillips (Meriden, CT: The Meriden Gravure Co., 1947). Hans Rudolf Vaget provides a contextual reading of Mörike’s text in “Mörike’s Mozart and the Scent of a Woman,” in The Don Giovanni Moment: Essays on the Legacy of an Opera, ed. Lydia Goehr and Daniel Herwitz (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006), 61-74. The aim of his essay is not to “debunk” Mörike’s story, but rather to analyze it in such a way as to explicate 19th-century views of Mozart and his opera, Don Giovanni. Michael Perraudin devotes a chapter to Mörike’s tale in Literature, the Volk and the Revolution in Mid-Nineteenth Century Germany (New York: Berghahn Books, 2000), 185-204. 591 Friedrich Sengle, Biedermeierzeit: Deutsche Literatur im Spannungsfeld zwischen Restauration und Revolution 1815-1848 (Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler, 1971-1980), 896. 592 As mentioned in the introduction, an example of this phenomenon is Maynard Solomon’s biography Mozart: A Life (New York: HarperCollins, 1995) in which he attempts to debunk old Mozart myths only to replace them with new ones. See Matthew Head, “Myths of a Sinful Father: Maynard Solomon’s ‘Mozart’” Music & Letters 80, no. 1 (February 1999): 74-85. 284 anecdotes about Mozart, for example, Maynard Solomon points out that despite the factual inaccuracies, the anecdotes “were reprinted, reworded, expanded, and elaborated in the numerous early anecdotal biographies of Mozart... . [These anecdotes] became firmly embedded in the biographical literature and played a crucial role in shaping perceptions of Mozart’s personality for subsequent generations, down to the present day.” 593 When musicologists rush to “debunk” these early biographies or fictional accounts, as Jolanta Pekacz notes, there is an implied “rejection of illuminating interpretations of earlier authors… [since] biography reflects a central cultural understanding of its time.” 594 Therefore, while Lyser’s “Gluck in Paris” falls apart in the face of the rigors of factual and historically accurate biography, it can be analyzed in such a way as to illuminate certain trends and themes in the reception history of Gluck in the Biedermeier period of the 1820s to 1830s. 595 In the case of Lyser’s “Gluck in Paris” and other narratives about Gluck and his time in Paris during the Querelle des Gluckistes et des Piccinnistes, there is a desire by 593 Maynard Solomon, “The Rochlitz Anecdotes: Issues of Authenticity in Early Mozart Biography,” in Mozart Studies, ed. Cliff Eisen (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 2. Linda Siegel goes so far as to stated that “German Romantic literature is one of the prime musicological sources for the study of German Romantic music” (Music in German Romantic Literature: A Collection of Essays, Reviews and Stories [Novato: Elra Publications, 1983], xi). 594 Jolanta Pekacz, “Memory, History and Meaning: Musical Biography and Its Discontents,” Journal of Musicological Research 23, no. 1 (2004): 44. 595 My assertion here is formulated after the literary theories of Brent Peterson, who contends with similar inaccuracies in German historical fictions of the late 19th century. In his article “Historical Novels and the Contents of German History” (Monatshefte 87, no. 1 [Spring 1995]: 46-67), he posits that such debates over “literary value,” “historical truth” and “evaluation” “raise a host of unrelated issues and become hopelessly mired, [and] the only viable option is to ignore such questions and limit the inquire at hand to [the author’s] historiographical vision... ” (59). Drawing from this, my goal here is to examine Lyser’s and other’s biographies of Gluck as it exists in the text and in 19th-century culture, thereby hopefully avoiding any of the value judgments and endless refutations of historical inaccuracies. 285 both French and German writers to bring forth an “aesthetic truth” 596 inherent to Gluck and his music that speaks to his value as an operatic composer in the 19th century. After its appearance in the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (AmZ) in 1809, E. T. A. Hoffmann’s Ritter Gluck is to this day the most well known fictional narrative that involves the composer. 597 In the 19th century, the novella influenced musical connoisseurs’ and amateurs’ understanding of the composer and his music. Writers, in turn, perpetuated Hoffmann’s Romantic image of the composer when they wrote performance reviews and their own fictional accounts. 598 Yet Biedermeier writers also alluded to and cited various 18th-century anecdotes of the composer in their narratives. 599 In particular, Johann Friedrich Reichardt published several critiques and anecdotes in the 1780s and 90s that influenced 19th-century writers. 600 These 19th-century fictional narratives, therefore, represent the manner in which writers manipulated 18th-century accounts and anecdotes to align Gluck’s biography with Romantic ideology. 596 This is Carl Dahlhaus’s term from his Ludwig van Beethoven: Approaches to his Music, trans. Mary Whittall (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), 1. 597 Ernst Theodor Wilhelm Hoffmann, “Ritter Gluck. Eine Erinnerung aus dem Jahre 1809,” Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung, no. 20 (February 1809): 305-19, reprinted in Fantasiestücke in Callot’s Manier: Blätter aus dem Tagebuche eines reisenden Enthusiasten. Mit e. Vorrede von Jean Paul, vol. 1 (Bamberg: E. F. Kunz, 1814). Ritter Gluck has been translated in Tale of E. T. A. Hoffmann, ed. and trans. Leonard J. Kent and Elizabeth C. Knight (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1969), 3-13. 598 Stephan Kunze, “Christoph Willibald Gluck, oder: die ‘Natur’ des musikalischen Dramas,” in Christoph Willibald Gluck und die Opernreform, ed. Klaus Hortschansky (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1989), 393-97. 599 Elisabeth Schmierer, “Die deutsche Rezeption der Querelle des Gluckistes et Piccinnistes,” in Studien zu den deutsch-französichen Musikbeziehungen in 18. und 19. Jahrhundert, ed. Herbert Schneider (Hildsheim: Olms, 1999) 196-212. 600 A. B. Marx, for example, cites Reichardt’s vocal score of the aria “Misero e che farò” from the Musikalisches Kunstmagazin (1782) in “Ueber Gluck und seine Alceste (Schluß aus dem Extrablatte zu No. 5),” Berliner allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (11 February 1824): 54 (hereafter BamZ). Additional discussion of Reichardt’s influence on 19th-century writers and musicians can be found in E. Eugene Helm and Günter Hartung, "Reichardt, Johann Friedrich," in Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.libproxy.usc.edu/subscriber/article/grove/music/23098 (accessed April 11, 2012). 286 In this chapter I will: 1) provide an overview of Reichardt’s writings about Gluck; 2) discuss Hoffmann’s Ritter Gluck and its influence on later 19th-century narratives about the composer; 3) use Lyser’s “Gluck in Paris” as a point of departure to examine critics’ appropriation of Gluck as a German composer and further implications of the Gluck-Méhul meeting; and 4) explore where these fictional stories fit into the cultural context of the Biedermeier period and the later 19th century. By dramatizing Gluck’s life, 19th-century writers developed the image of an uncompromising German composer who transformed Italian and French opera by creating unified works of art through adhering to his true artistic principles. Gluck’s operas are, in turn, proposed as an alternative to the newer French and Italian operas. Moreover, especially in the case of Lyser, the composer’s life represented a lost Golden Age in the history of German music. Johann Friedrich Reichardt and Kant’s Genius In the 18th century, Northern German critics were skeptical of Gluck’s operatic reform principles. 601 Frederick the Great’s opera director, Johann Friedrich Agricola, for example, printed a point-by-point repudiation of the preface to Alceste. He claimed that since Gluck sacrificed the rules and conventions of music, his compositions are full of “…forbidden fifths and octaves, and clumsy rhythms.” 602 Reichardt, who took over 601 Though cited earlier in this dissertation, the works covering the mid-18th-century reception of Gluck deserve a second mention here: Thomas Bauman, North German Opera in the Age of Goethe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 239-41; Christoph Henzel, “Zwischen Hofoper und Nationaltheater: Aspekte der Gluckrezeption in Berlin um 1800,” Archiv für Musikwissenschaft 50 (1993): 201-16, and the same author’s “Von der preußischen Nationaloper zum wahren Musikdrama: Zur Gluckrezeption in Berlin im achtzehnten und neunzehnten Jahrhundert,” in Wien-Berlin: Stationen einer kulturellen Beziehung, ed. H. Grimm, M. Hansen, L. Holtmeier (Saarbrücken: Pfau, 2000), 54-63; and Sylvie Le Moël “Gluck et les publicistes des Lumières allemandes: enjeux esthétiques et identitaires d’une première réception,” Musicorum 9 (March 2011): Les Lumières et la culture musicale européenne C. W. Gluck, 23-39. 602 “…verbotene Oktaven und Quinten, und holperiche Rythmen”; Johann Friedrich Agricola, Review of Alceste, Tragedia messa in Musica dal Signore Cavagliere Cristoforo Gluck, Allgemeine deutsche 287 Agricola’s position in 1775, was one of the earliest supporters of Gluck’s reform operas. In his writings about Gluck’s music and biography, Reichardt wanted to alter Northern German critics’ negative perception of the composer. In his Musikalisches Kunstmagazin of 1782, Reichardt printed Gluck’s setting of Admeto’s aria “Misero e che faro!” from Alceste and claimed that: “The passionate expression of grievance in Gluck’s aria Misero e che farò! is probably the highest that a composer has aroused until now.” 603 To support his assertion, Reichardt detailed the melodic, rhythmic, and structural aspects of the aria. Reichardt singled out Gluck’s unconventional modulations, which captured Admeto’s grievance: Modulation: almost entirely in minor keys, from C minor, after a short digression in E-flat major and quick return movement to C minor with a piercing transposition in D minor, even closing with a half cadence in A major: [These modulations] would be highly shocking in a piece of music, if merely considered as such, but here, however, what matters is the expression of the highest passion by this extraordinary effect, which is exempt from all the rules of nature and art. Perhaps it has only one true disadvantage which is that this extreme, desperate move happens too early enfeebles the subsequent transposition of the plaintive theme to D minor, which already has a weaker effect than in [the original key of] C minor. 604 Modulation: fast durchaus in Molltönen; aus C mol, nach einer kurzen Ausweichung in Es dur, und schnellen Zurücktreten ins C mol mit einer schneidenden Transposition ins D mol, gar mit einer Bibliothek 14, no. 1 (1771), 17. Additional comments about Agricola and the Allgemeine deutsche Bibliothek can be found in Thomas Bauman, “The Music Reviews in the Allgemeine deutsche Bibliothek,” Acta Muscologica 49 (January-June, 1977): 69-85. 603 “Der leidenschaftliche Ausdruck der Klage in Gluck’s Arie: Misero e che farò? [sic] ist vielleicht der höchste, den irgend ein Tonkünstler bis itzt erreicht hat”; Johann Friedrich Reichardt, “Einige Anmerkungen zu den merkwürdigen Stücken großer Meister im sechsten Stück des Kunstmagazins,” Musikalisches Kunstmagazin (Berlin: 1792; reprint Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1969), 66 (page citation is to the reprint edition). 604 Ibid., 66-67. Building on Reichardt’s statement, in Wilhelm Heinse’s novel Hildegard von Hohenthal (1795), the characters praise Gluck’s and others’ harmonic language, which exemplifies deep tragic expression. 288 halben Cadenz in A dur geschlossen, was an einem Tonstück, blos als solches betrachtet, höchst beleidigen würde, hier aber, wo es auf den Ausdruck der höchsten Leidenschaft ankömmt, die von allen Gesetzen der Natur und der Kunst nicht hören mag, von außerordentlicher Wirkung ist und vielleicht nur den einen wahren Nachteil hat, daß dieser äußerste, desperate Schritt zu früh geschieht, und die drauf folgende Transposition des klagenden Thema’s ins D mol, das schon an sich schwächer wirkt als C mol entkräftet [sic].– To support his claim, Reichardt relied on the philosophy of Kant: “Perhaps this trait belongs also to that–as Kant states so appropriately–which a Genius has to admit as a deformity, [and] probably cannot be removed, because without it, the idea would be weakened.” 605 Reichardt then quotes Kant’s definition of a genius from the Critique of Judgment, which states that a genius has the boldness to deviate from common rules and the privilege to allow defects to remain in his works. 606 With Kant’s philosophy supporting him, Reichardt felt justified in his positive assertions about Gluck’s music. In the following section of the essay, Reichardt turned toward those critics who attacked Gluck’s music on technical grounds. Reichardt asserts that Gluck’s music cannot be judged on rules set forth in other works, since the composer himself brought forth new rules of art and music, thereby creating an entirely new form of dramatic music all together. Reichardt’s statements about Gluck were influenced by the cult of genius of the 605 “Vielleicht gehört dieser Zug auch zu dem, was–wie Kant so treffend sagt–was das Genie als Mißgestalt nur hat zulassen müssen, weil es sich ohne die Idee zu schwächen, nicht wohl wegschaffen ließ”; ibid., 67. Reichardt studied with Kant at the University of Königsberg. 606 Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Judgment, trans. Werner S. Pluhar (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co., 1987), section 49. For further discussion of Kant’s ideas of genius and its influence on music criticism and aesthetics, see Peter Kivy, The Possessor and the Possessed: Handel, Mozart, Beethoven, and the Idea of Musical Genius (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001), 97-118. 289 Sturm und Drang movement, in which emotionalism, naturalism, and originality stood alongside the normative precepts of 18th-century Enlightenment. 607 In 1792, Reichardt printed anecdotes about Gluck and other composers in his journal Studien für Tonkünstler und Musikfreunde as an appendix to Ernst Ludwig Gerber’s Historisch-Biographisches Lexikon der Tonkünstler. 608 Reichardt wanted to refute some of the negative claims written by Gerber about Gluck while furthering his earlier claims about the composer’s inherent genius. One anecdote, for example, is about the controversial aria “Se mai senti spirarti sul volto” from the opera La clemenza di Tito: While in Naples, Gluck wrote for his singer the celebrated aria “Se mai senti sul volto,” against which all the composers who were there at that time united; they asserted that the rules were violated in one passage, where, during a long sustained note from the ringing tones of Caffarelli, the instruments were too active. They hastened, with the score of this aria, to [Franceso] Durante, the oracle of composition, to hear his judgment. The great master examined the passage and told them: ‘I do not wish to pronounce on whether this is completely in accordance with the rules of composition; I only wish to say to you all that one of us, myself before anyone, should be very proud to have conceived and written such a passage.’ 609 As in his analysis of “Misero e che farò,” Reichardt published this anecdote to demonstrate that critics cannot judge Gluck’s music according to abstract rules. Instead, critics must judge his music on how well it supports the text and dramatic situation. As 607 Wolfgang Beutin, Klaus Ehlert, Wolfgang Emmerich, et al., A History of German Literature: From its Beginnings to the Present Day, 4th ed., trans. Clare Krojzl (London and New York: Routledge, 1993), 168- 69. 608 Ernst Ludwig Gerber, Historische-Biographisches Lexicon der Tonkünstler (1790-1792), vol. 1, reprint ed. Othmar Wessely (Graz: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, 1977), columns 514-18. 609 Friedrich Ludwig Aemilius Kunzen and Johann Friedrich Reichardt, Studien für Tonkünstler und Musikfreunde: Eine historisch-kritische Zeitschrift für das Jahr 1792 in 2 Teilen (Berlin: 1793; reprint Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1992), 73 (page citation is to the reprint edition), cited and translated in Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 34-35. Reichardt left out any mention of Gluck’s reuse of this aria in Iphigénie en Tauride, which was mentioned in Carl Friedrich Cramer’s “Verzeichniß,” Magazine der Music 2 no. 2 (1786): 1352-53. 290 the anecdote demonstrates, the critic who lays aside the rules will appreciate the merit of Gluck’s music. Reichardt concludes his series of anecdotes with words about Handel’s infamous judgment of Gluck’s music, which Gerber reprinted in his Lexicon. Charles Burney first reported Handel’s statement in An Account of the Musical Performance at Westminster Abbey: When Gluck came first into England, in 1745, he was neither so great a composer, nor so high in reputation, as he afterwards mounted; and I remember when Mrs. Cibber, in my hearing, asked Handel what sort of a composer he was; his answer, prefaced by an oath–was, ‘he knows no more of contrapunto, as mein cook, Waltz.’ 610 Reichardt asserted that Gluck was concerned with creating true dramatic compositions for the theatre, which required a different musical language; contrapuntal music would harm the overall form and effect of his dramatic works. 611 At the end of his statement, Reichardt invites readers to examine the aria “Misero e che farò” that he printed in his Musikalisches Kunstmagazin so that they might form their own opinion of the composer. 612 610 This anecdote was first printed in Charles Burney’s “Sketch of the Life of Handel,” in Burney’s An Account of the Musical Performances in Westminster-Abbey and the Pantheon,... in Commemoration of Handel (London: T. Payne and G. Robinson, 1785), 33. (The pagination here is somewhat confusing, as it often starts and then stops several times.) I would like to thank Bruce Brown for providing me with this source. 611 Kunzen and Reichardt, Studien für Tonkünstler und Musikfreunde, 74. This justification for a lack of contrapuntal skills exists in some of the modern writings about Gluck and Berlioz. Janet Levy provides a brief overview of this phenomenon in her article “Covert and Casual Values in Recent Writings about Music,” Journal of Musicology 5 (1987): 3-27. 612 In addition to this iconoclastic image Reichardt created, as will be discussed below, he was one of many writers who contributed to the Germanic image of the composer. Reichardt helped in this regard through the publication of Gluck’s lieder and stories of listening to the composer perform selections from his planned German opera, Hermannsschlacht, which was left un-transcribed. See Howard, Gluck: an Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 235. 291 Reichardt was not the only music critic to write so passionately about the music of Gluck at the end of the 18th century. 613 Three years after Reichardt printed his anecdotes, Wilhelm Heinse published his novel Hildegard von Hohenthal, in which the character Lockmann claims that Gluck created Orfeo with republican ideals in mind. Gluck democratized opera by giving greater authority to the chorus, who overturned the despotic rule of singers such as Farinelli, Caffarelli, and Todi. 614 While it is unknown if Reichardt’s writings directly influenced Heinse, both their statements reflect the high reverence accorded to Gluck by the end of the 18th century. This image of the composer as an unquestionable genius and iconoclast would surround him well throughout the 19th century––even to this present moment. E. T. A. Hoffmann Of all the fictional accounts involving Gluck, Hoffmann’s Ritter Gluck has received the most critical analysis from the 19th century to today. Printed in the AmZ in 1809, this was Hoffmann’s first published novella. On one level, the novella is a subtle critique of Berlin’s musical culture. 615 On another level, the novella represents the author’s introspective quandary concerning his position as a writer and composer in the changing landscape of the 19th century. It is often this second level of reading that has attracted critical theorists to Hoffmann’s novella. The basis for such a reading derives from the simple question: 613 For additional examples see Kunze, “Gluck, oder: die ‘Natur’ des musikalischen Dramas.” 614 Wilhelm Heinse’s Hildegard von Hohenthal (Berlin: Voss, 1795) reprinted Hildegard von Hohenthal: Musikalische Dialogen, ed. Werner Keil (Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 2002), 208 (page citation is to the reprint edition). 615 Kent and Knight, introduction to Tales of E. T. A. Hoffmann, xxvii and David Charlton, commentary to E.T.A. Hoffmann’s Musical Writings: “Kreisleriana,” “The Poet and the Composer,” Music Criticism, ed. David Charlton, trans. Martyn Clarke (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 256. 292 “Who is Ritter Gluck?” One view is that this is not the historical Christoph Gluck, but a doppelgänger of the narrator, i.e. Hoffmann himself. 616 With Gluck and the narrator one in the same person, Hoffmann, through the voice of Gluck, chides Berlin opera companies for the poor performances of the composer’s operas and calls the city a “barren space.” Reading Gluck as the doppelgänger of Hoffman, John Frazier argues that the novella represents the author’s personal struggles with his career as a composer and a writer. 617 When the narrator enters Gluck’s apartment at the end of the novella, for example, he notices “a small piano on which were a porcelain inkstand and several sheets of paper lined for music. A closer glance at these materials convinced me, however, that nothing had been written for a long time, for the paper was quite yellowed, and thick spider webs covered the inkstand.” 618 In Frazier’s estimation, this scene represents Hoffmann’s struggles to compose music. 619 What prevented Hoffmann from composing was his inability to create a unique musical style that honored his favorite composers of the 18th century. 620 The doppelgänger functions within the literary text, according Andrew Webber, as “the dialectically complicated conflict between realism and fantasy... .” 621 In its cultural and historical context, the doppelgänger nature of Hoffmann’s Ritter Gluck represents the dialectical conflict between the fantasy of the emancipated artist against 616 Kent and Knight, introduction, xxvii. 617 John Frazier, “Ritter Gluck’s ‘Unglück’: The Crisis of Creativity in the Age of the Epigone,” The German Quarterly 44 no. 3 (May 1971): 317-30. Kent and Knight also point out the concept of “doubleness” runs throughout this and other novellas of Hoffmann. 618 Hoffmann, Ritter Gluck, 11 619 Frazier, “Ritter Gluck’s ‘Unglück,’” 326. 620 See John Warrack, German Opera: From the Beginning to Wagner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 274-75 for comments about Gluck’s influence on Hoffmann’s opera Aurora. 621 Andrew J. Webber, The Doppelgänger: Double Visions in German Literature (Oxford: Claredon Press, 1996), 9. 293 the realities of the 19th-century cultural milieu. Hoffmann’s Gluck is an artist who is either trapped by and free from the growing philistinism of the 19th-century musical culture. 622 The dialectical conflict in Ritter Gluck applies not just to the narrator but extends also to the performances and reception of Gluck’s operas in Berlin and Northern Germany. Stefan Kunze, David Charlton and others note that Hoffmann alluded to 18th- century critiques about Gluck in this novella and other writings. 623 Hoffmann was well aware of the negative criticism directed at Gluck’s operas in the 18th-century, especially the writings Johann Nicolas Forkel. 624 In addition to the poor reception Gluck’s operas received there, Hoffmann felt that Berlin’s stagings of these works failed to capture the dramatic nature of his works and fulfill the composer’s intentions. In many ways, the 19th-century performances of Gluck’s operas were a doppelgänger of Gluck’s original works. Inspired by Otto Rank’s paper “Der Doppelgänger,” Freud notes in The Uncanny that the doppelgänger derives from the primitive phase of our mental development in which innocuous imaginations and suppressed acts of volition fostered the illusion of free will. But, there is an urge that ejects the figure of the doppelgänger from the ego as 622 Jim Samson, “The Great Composer,” in The Cambridge History of Nineteenth-Century Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002) 278-82. 623 Kunze, “Gluck, oder: die ‘Natur’ des musikalischen Dramas,” 417 and Charlton, E. T. A. Hoffmann’s Musical Writings, 256. See also Christian Wasselin, “Le paradoxe sur le musician ou la metamorphose du neveu de Rameaus en musicien fou d’ E. T. A. Hoffmann,” Corps ecrit 26 (April-June 1988): 117-21 and George Edgar Slusser, “Le Neveu de Rameau and Hoffmann’s Johannes Kreisler: Affinities and Influences,” Comparative Literature 27, no. 4 (Autumn, 1975): 327-43. 624 Hoffmann continually cites and attacks Forkel’s critique of Gluck: see reprints of Hoffmann’s various writings in E. T. A. Hoffmann’s Musical Writings, especially pages 109-10, 429, and 437-38. Additional comments about Forkel’s and other’s attacks against Gluck’s music can be found in Christoph Henzel, “Zwischen Hofoper und Nationaltheater,” and Thomas Bauman, North German Opera, 239. 294 something alien, and consequently, the doppelgänger grows into an object of terror. 625 In Ritter Gluck, Gluck’s musical creations come from his imagination and in their purist forms exist in a simple, unified dramatic whole as represented by the musical text. Yet when Gluck hears his own operas in performance, he does not recognize them, since opera companies have distorted them through reorchestration, cuts, and interpolated music. As Freud and Rank note, writers often represent the doppelgänger as a deviant or deceptive twin. To a certain degree, these modern adaptations are evil twins of Gluck’s original music––they bear the same title as the original, but what audiences heard was a disturbing falsification of the original. Though Berlin’s opera companies frequently performed Gluck’s works in the 19th century, there were deficiencies in the performance and reception of his operas. In 1809, when the Nationaltheater staged Gluck’s Iphigenia in Aulis in celebration of the King and Queen’s return from exile, which was due to the French occupation, the royal family left after the overture. 626 In light of the harsh criticism of Gluck’s works, and the royal family’s languid support, Hoffmann casts a cynical eye toward Berliners in Ritter Gluck. On the one hand, the narrator states that Berlin is where “‘...Gluck’s works certainly enjoy a dignified performance.’” 627 On the other hand, Gluck’s ghost finds that the performances misrepresent the composer’s works and intentions: “I wanted to hear Iphigenia in Tauris once. As I entered the theater, I heard them play the overture to Iphigenia in Aulis. Hmm 625 Sigmund Freud, “Das Unheimliche,” Gessammelte Werke, vol. 12 (London: Imago, 1947), 229-68 reprinted in The Uncanny, translated by David McLintock (New York: Peguin Books, 2003): 121-62. Otto Rank, The Double: A Psychoanalytic Study, edited and translated by Harry Tucker, Jr. (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1971). 626 Henzel, “Zwischen Hofoper und Nationaltheater,” 208. 627 Hoffmann, Ritter Gluck, 9 295 – I think a mistake. This Iphigenia is being given! I am astonished as now the Andante enters with which Iphigenia in Tauris begins, and the storm follows. Twenty years lie in between! The whole effect, the tragedy’s whole well-planned exposition is lost. A quiet sea––a storm––the Greeks are cast on land, the opera is there! Well, do you think the composer tossed out the overture so that one can blow it how and where one wants to, like a little trumpet piece?” 628 From Hoffmann’s perspective, if an opera company performed the overture of Aulide as the opening of Tauride, it ruined the plot of Tauride and people’s understanding of the opera. 629 Later, the ghost of Gluck turns his attention to those critics and composers who rejected his works: “‘Away with [critics]! They carp and niggle––refine everything to the smallest measure: rake through everything just to find one wretched thought.’” 630 In essence, the strong performance history of Gluck’s operas is a double-edged sword for Hoffmann: Gluck’s music is still heard throughout the city, but the performances are terrible, and the critics belittle his music. 628 ‘Ich wollte einmal Iphigenia in Tauris hören. Als ich ins Theater trete, höre ich, daß man die Ouvertüre der Iphigenia in Aulis spielt. Hm – denke ich, ein Irrthum; man giebt diese Iphigenia! Ich erstaune, als nun das Andante eintritt, womit die Iphigenia in Tauris anfängt, und der Sturm folgt. Zwanzig Jahre liegen dazwischen! Die ganze Wirkung, die ganze wohlberechnete Exposition des Trauerspiels geht verloren. Ein stilles Meer– ein Sturm– die Griechen werden aus Land geworfen, die Oper ist da! Wie? hat der Komponist die Ouvertüre ins Gelage hineingeschrieben, daß man sie, wie ein Trompeterstückchen, abblasen kann wie und wo man will?’; ibid. I have modified Kent and Knight’s translation based on the original publication of Ritter Gluck in the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung 11, no. 20 (February 1809), 314 (hereafter AmZ). Charlton also points out that Ritter Gluck is critical of Berlin performances in “Introduction to The Poet and the Composer: Hoffmann and Opera,” in E. T. A. Hoffmann’s Musical Writings, 177. 629 Performing the overture of Iphigénie en Aulide before Tauride was a common practice in the 19th century; Henry F. Chorley remarks upon this in his travel account, Modern German Music: Recollections and Criticisms, vol. 1 (London: Smith, Elder, and Co., 1854), 246. Additionally, Carl Ludwig Rellstab’s vocal score of Iphigénie en Tauride of 1788 includes the overture to Iphigénie en Aulide at the beginning of the opera (David Charlton, ed., E. T. A. Hoffmann’s Musical Writings, 265n and Cecil Hopkinson, A Bibliography of the Printed Works of C. W. von Gluck, 1714-1787, 2nd ed., rev. [New York: Broude Brothers Limited, 1967], 61.) 630 Ibid. 296 According to Hoffmann, the ideal performance of Gluck’s music resides in a metaphysical realm. As Gluck tells the narrator, “When I was in the kingdom of dreams, a thousand aches and worries tortured me. It was night and I was terrified by the grinning larvae of the monsters who dashed out at me and sometimes dragged me into the ocean’s abyss, sometimes carried me high into the sky. Rays of light shot through the night and these rays of lights were tones which encircled me with delightful clarity.” 631 This and other passages in Ritter Gluck endowed Gluck’s operas with a Romantic universalistic hue. 632 Yet, as Stephan Rumph argues, this universalistic tone in Hoffmann’s novella came at a point in the author’s career when a patriotic ideology overtook much of his writings. 633 While Hoffmann was writing this novella, he had to contend with three historical problems: 1) the French, who patronized Gluck’s works, were at war with the Prussian people, 2) Gluck never worked or visited Berlin during his lifetime, and 3) he composed very few works in the German language. Hoffmann hints that some higher power forced Gluck to wander the streets of Berlin, because he 631 Ibid., 8. 632 Timothée Picard, “Pris dans la toile des discours sur la musique: Gluck scènes littéraires,” Musicorum 9 (March 2011): Les Lumières et la culture musicale européenne C. W. Gluck, 81-87. 633 Stephan Rumph, “A Kingdom Not of this World: The Political Context of E. T. A. Hoffmann’s Beethoven Criticism,” 19th-Century Music 19, no. 1 (Summer 1995): 54. Rumph uses the writings of Benedikt Koehler, Ästhetik der Politik: Adam Müller und die politische Romantik (Stuttgart, 1980), 114-15 to make his argument. For a discussion of the political role of Romantic literature in occupied Prussia, see Otto W. Johnston, The Myth of a Nation–Literature and Politics in Prussia under Napoleon (Columbia, SC: Camden House, 1989), 1-15. Four years after writing Ritter Gluck, Hoffmann directed performances of Iphigenia in Tauris in Dresden, where Napoleon’s forces approached the city and Prussian and Russian forces were camped nearby. See the entries in Hoffmann’s Tagebuch from 20 August to 25 August 1813, which have been reprinted in Der Musiker E. T. A. Hoffmann: Ein Dokumentenband, ed. Friedrich Schnapp (Hildesheim: Gerstenberg Verlag, 1981), 274-75. In his essay Extremely Random Thoughts (1814), Hoffmann reframed Gluck’s participation in the Querelle as a German composer conquering the Paris stage, similar to the defeat of Napoleon. Charlton and Rumph point out that, at this particular passage about Gluck, Hoffmann wrote an acrostic E. G. d. K. “Erhalte Gott den König” (“God save the King”), see Rumph, 54 and Charlton, 109. 297 composed such great music for the French. After performing the overture to Armide on the piano, Gluck admits: ‘I wrote all this, my good sir, when I came from the kingdom of dreams. But I betrayed that which is holy to the unholy, and an ice cold hand reached into my glowing heart! It did not break. Then I was damned to wander among the unholy like a departed spirit....’ 634 We could read the “unholy” as the French people, but Hoffmann never makes this association clear. (Since Hoffmann does not specify who the “unholy” are, the reader might believe that it is humanity in general.) Ultimately, by placing Gluck and his music on a metaphysical plane of existence, Hoffmann promotes the universal nature of Gluck’s music and its freedom from any nationality. Yet, with the city’s continuous performances of the composer’s works, Berlin was the inter-dimensional gateway in which Gluck’s spirit floated in and out of existence. In addition to freeing Gluck from a specific nation, Hoffmann also frees the composer from time and physical existence itself. Hoffmann represents this atemporality in the closing scene of Ritter Gluck: Looking at the score of Armide, the narrator “saw music paper, but without a single note written on it.” 635 The narrator agrees to turn the pages, and: the majestic tempo di marcia with which the overture begins [the ghost] played marvelously and brilliantly, with complete chords [and] almost completely true to the original. The Allegro, however, merely had Gluck’s main thoughts woven into it. He 634 Ibid., 12. As mentioned in the second chapter, another point of contention could be that Gluck reused music from Telemaco to create Armide. With Romantic critics’ preoccupation with originality, such extensive self-borrowing would have been seen as unfavorable to 19th-century intellectuals. As is mentioned later in this chapter, however, Hoffmann and other critics were unfamiliar with Gluck’s earlier works, because they neither circulated in print nor performed on the stage. 635 Ibid., 11. 298 introduced so many new and inspired twists that my astonishment grew and grew. 636 The invisible notation symbolizes Hoffmann’s belief that music was not bound to the physical world or time itself. Moreover, the composer had the freedom to create and to reinvent his music with each performance. Jeanne Riou asserts that this scene represents a “transgression of boundaries” as Gluck can slip into our phenomenological world, defy the bonds of time, and free himself from any physical constraints. 637 Hoffmann showed 19th-century readers and fellow writers that Gluck’s music was neither tied to a specific people nor definitive time span, but existed throughout the ages. 638 Subsequent writers of the 19th century often alluded to Hoffmann’s imagery or poetic language as found in Ritter Gluck. 639 Take, for example, Lyser’s “Gluck in Paris,” in which he, like Hoffmann, has the character Gluck describe his act of musical creation in metaphysical terms: ‘Well – perhaps something better – it is true; for when I freed myself from the fetters of the unworthy and the base, there came to me a radiant and lovely vision, from the pure bright Grecian age. But, believe me, the work of holding it fast, and shaping it in the external world, is my last. And 636 “… spielte er herrlich und meisterhaft, mit vollgriffigen Accorden, da majestätische Tempo di Marcia, womit die Ouvertüre anhebt, fast ganz dem Original getreu; aber das Allegro war nur mit Glucks Hauptgedanken durchflochten. Er brachte so viele neue geniale Wendungen hinein, dass mein Erstaunen immer wachs”; ibid., 12. I have slightly modified Kent and Knight’s translation. 637 Jeanne Riou, “Music and Non-Verbal Reason in E. T. A. Hoffmann,” Music and Literature in German Romanticism, ed. Siobán Donovan and Robin Elliott (Rochester: Camden House, 2004), 53. 638 Kunze, “Gluck, oder: die ‘Natur’ des Musikalisches Dramas,’ 417 and Katharine Ellis, “The Uses of Fiction: Contes and nouvelles in the Revue et Gazette musicale de Paris, 1834-1844,” Revue de musicologie 90, no. 20 (2004): 253. 639 Lyser was a great admirer of Hoffmann and often illustrated scenes from his literary works. See Hirth, Lyser, 36-44. Additionally, Hoffmann also influenced Lyser’s perception and understanding of 18th- and 19th-century music; an influence Lyser characterized in a sketch of Hoffmann, Beethoven, Paganini, and himself all standing together (Comini, The Changing Image of Beethoven, 83-85). When Lyser edited the journal Cäcilia. Ein Taschenbuch für Freunde der Tonkunst, he printed a critique of the Dresden performances of Iphigenia in Tauris entitled “Gluck’s Iphigenia auf Tauris. (Eine Erinnerung aus dem Jahre 1831).” 299 melancholy it is that a whole vigorous, blooming lifetime could not be consecrated alone to such a theme.’ 640 Hoffmann has Gluck say: ‘Perhaps it was the half-forgotten theme of a little song which one now sang differently, the first thought of one’s own; and this embryo, laboriously nourished by strange power, grew to be a giant which consumed everything around and was transformed into your blood and marrow. ... [But] only a few, awakened from the dream, arise and stride through the kingdom of dreams––they attain the truth––the highest moment is there: contact with the eternal, the ineffable! Look at the sun; it is the triad from which the chords, like stars, shoot out and entwine you with threads of fire. You lie as in a cocoon of fire until the soul swings up to the sun.’ 641 Each writer had Gluck describe the act of musical creation as pulling the music out of a metaphysical realm. Hoffmann’s approach is far more poetic and intricate than Lyser’s, which likely explains why Hoffmann’s tale is still with us, and why Lyser’s has fallen into oblivion. The point of this comparison, however, is again to emphasize that writers placed words into Gluck’s mouth that either exaggerated claims actually made by the composer or fabricated statements altogether. Through Ritter Gluck, Hoffmann promoted the music of Gluck as the pinnacle of dramatic music and advanced personal critiques of Berlin’s musical society, all the while struggling with his career as a writer and a composer. With this work, he provided other writers with a template for manipulating Gluck’s character to meet personal ideologies. Hoffmann’s fictional and non-fictional writings influenced critics’, composers’ and writers’ perception of Gluck throughout the 19th century. But when we compare the plot 640 Lyser, “Gluck in Paris,” 197. 641 Hoffmann, Ritter Gluck, 7. 300 of Ritter Gluck to later writings of the Biedermeier period, it is apparent that the quixotic nature of Hoffmann’s novella was odd. Generally, writers focused on Gluck’s time in Paris and his role in the Querelle. As with Hoffmann’s Gluck, though, writers presented readers with a composer who escaped the confines of time to have an immediate impact on 19th-century culture. Gluck the German Before Gluck and Méhul’s first meeting, Lyser places the announcement of Gluck’s German nationality in the mouth of Méhul. In the Café du Feu, Méhul begins to question Elias Hegrin, whose “pronunciation of French was shocking, and betrayed him for a Saxon.” 642 (At this point, Méhul and the other members of the group only know that Hegrin is a German, and not his real identity, nor that he was a former student of Gluck.) The conversation begins: ‘You must pardon me, sir,’ said the young man [Méhul], ingenuously, ‘if I trouble you with my numerous questions; but you are a German, and you [the Saxon] must be assured that we French know how to value your great countryman, who has shown us new paths, hitherto undreamed of, to the temple of fame. You are yourself a musician – a composer; you can feel what we owe to the illustrious master! Tell me what you know of him?’ 643 Méhul, at this point, is unable to hide his enthusiastic feelings toward this German composer because of the transformation he has brought to the French stage. Though Gluck’s birthplace was debated in the 19th century, Lyser’s claim about Gluck’s nationality stems from a line of French literature circulating in the German- 642 Lyser, “Gluck in Paris,” 186. 643 Ibid. 301 speaking region that posits the composer as a German. 644 During the time of the Querelle, as Daniel Heartz observes, “Viewed from Paris, Bohemia looked like just another of the many parts of Germany, which in some senses it was, and Gluck along with other Bohemian musicians was often subsumed as German.” 645 Heartz points out some instances in which Gluck, in a derisive manner, is called a Bohemian, but most writings from the Querelle call Gluck a German. Pierre Louis Moline, for example, envisions a conversation between Jean-Baptiste Lully, Jean-Philippe Rameau, and Orpheus in the Elysian fields: Lully: Divine Orpheus, what chance brings you here? Orpheus: I am not the famous Orpheus of Thrace, who was a musician, poet and law-maker all in one. Nor am I the illustrious Orpheus, whom your brother has introduced at court with such success. I have but the outer appearance of my ancestor, but I owe my talents to the German swan. It is because of my indebtedness to his art that I am here. Rameau: The German swan, who may that be? Orpheus: One of the most famous artists in Europe. Rameau: And what is his name? Orpheus: Christoph Gluck. Rameau: The name has a somewhat rude sound. Orpheus: What is in a name? Name and merit are two different matters. Genius belongs to all nations and the true wise man is a citizen of the whole world. Lully: But in which country was this clever musician born? Orpheus: In Germany. He lives in Vienna. A connoisseur of fine arts has lured him to France, and in Paris he has given full evidence of his power and insight. The 644 There were debates over the exact location and year of Gluck’s birth during the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Anton Schmid, Gluck’s first biographer, summarizes these various theories in the first chapter of Christoph Willibald Ritter von Gluck, dessen Leben und tonkünstlerisches Wirken (Leipzig: Friedrich Fleischer, 1854). Of note, Gluck claimed he was born a German in a letter to the Mercure de France of 1 February 1773, translated and cited in Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 106. Ultimately, it would be Bavaria that claimed Gluck as her own, even though he lived there for only the first three years of his life. 645 Daniel Heartz, “Coming of Age in Bohemia: The Musical Apprenticeships of Benda and Gluck,” The Journal of Musicology 6, no. 4 (Autumn, 1988): 524. 302 most gracious queen of the world, Marie Antoinette, who combines personal charm with fine gifts of the intellect, who, with a glance wins all hearts, and whose generous soul knows how to value and to reward merit, has showered him with benevolence and graciousness in order to hold him. 646 Prominent 18th-century German writers translated and published many of the French pamphlets from the Querelle, often adding their own commentary or writing new articles, based on these essays. 647 Friedrich Justus Riedel translated Moline’s story for his semi-biographical Ueber die Musik des Ritters Christoph von Gluck verschiedene Schriften. 648 As Elisabeth Schmierer notes, 18th-century critics such as Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg and Johann Friedrich Agricola used these writings to expound upon theories of the doctrine of imitation and the merits of instrumental music. At the same time, critics derived from these writings an aesthetic approach and model for the development and formulation of an opera in the German language. The critic Carl Friedrich Zelter made the claim that Gluck’s 646 [Pierre Louis Moline], Dialogue entre Lulli, Rameau, Orphée dans les Champs Elisées par M (Amsterdam and Paris, 1774), 23-25. The story was published under the pseudonym M***. Translation from Bruno Nettl, The Book of Musical Documents (New York: Philosophical Library, 1948), 88. Nettl attributes this story to Arnaud, but Julian Rushton provides the correct attribution to Pierre Louis Moline, in his article “Moline, Pierre Louis” in Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.libproxy.usc.edu/subscriber/article/grove/music/18884 (accessed March 2, 2011). Some libraries have attributed and catalogued this pamphlet under the author Jean François Marmontel, who was a supporter of Piccinni. Belinda Cannone has also addressed issues of the pamphlet’s attribution in Philosophies de la musique (Paris: Klincksieck,1990), 241-42 (I would like to thank Laurine Quetin and Sylvie Le Moël for providing me with the original French). Moline collaborated with Gluck in adapting and translating Orfeo for the Parisian stage. 647 Elisabeth Schmierer provides an excellent account of the circulation and influence of the Querelle text in the 18th century in “Die deutsche Rezeption der Querelle des Gluckistes et Piccinnistes,” in Studien zu den deutsch-französichen Musikbeziehungen im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert, ed. Herbert Schneider (Hildesheim: Olms, 1999), 196-212. 648 The story appeared as “Gespräch zwischen Lully, Rameau, und Orpheus in den elysäischen Feldern” in Friedrich Justus Riedel, Ueber die Musik des Ritters Christoph von Gluck verschiedene Schriften (Vienna, 1787), 168-87. 303 use of dissonance in Alceste followed “after German models.” 649 Johann Gottlieb Carl Spazier, basing his critique on the writings of the Gluckistes, argued that Gluck created a perfectly unified dramatic work in which all aspects of “poetry, music, painting, mimicry, and dance strive toward a single goal.” 650 This characterization of Gluck’s works would continue from the late 18th century to this day. 651 Whereas Moline’s Elysian narrative betrayed the 18th-century aesthetic of universalism, 652 these French statements about Gluck’s Germanic heritage played perfectly into the nationalistic aims of 19th-century critics and writers in the German- speaking countries. What late 18th- and 19th-century German critics and musicians drew from these Querelle pamphlets was that Gluck was a German composer who revolutionized French opera while battling the Italian composer Niccolò Piccinni. In his 1805 review of Armide, Reichardt claimed that “Gluck himself went to Paris, and directed there the rehearsals of his operas, with his unique fire and original character.” 653 Moreover, Reichardt noted that members of the French court, “Each set the great German master [Gluck] against the really superb Piccinni, [who was] popular at that time in 649 “nach Deutschen Mustern”; [Carl Friedrich Zelter], “Ueber die Aufführung der Gluckschen Oper Alceste, auf dem Königlichen Operntheater zu Berlin von 1796,” in Deutschland, ed. Johann Friedrich Reichardt, vol. 2 (1796), reprinted in Der critische Musicus an der Spree: Berliner Musikschrifttum von 1748-1799. Eine Dokumentation, ed. H. G. Ottenberg (Leipzig, 1984), 304. 650 Schmierer, 215-16. 651 Prior to the Querelle, critics wrote similar assessments of Gluck’s reform works on the Viennese stage, especially Alceste. The most well-known example is Joseph Sonnenfels’s “Über die zu Wien aufgeführte Oper Alceste, aus den Briefen über die wienersiche Schaubühne,” in Wöchentliche Nachrichten und Ammerkungen die Musik betreffend (17 and 18 October 1768), cited and translated in Daniel Heartz, Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School, 1740-1780 (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1995), 228-30. 652 In Moline’s Dialogue, Orpheus claims that “genius belongs to all nations” (Das Genie gehört allen Nationen); quoted in Riedel, Ueber die Musik des Ritters Christoph von Gluck verschiedene Schriften, 181. 653 “Gluck ging selbst nach Paris, und dirigirte dort mit seinem eignen Feuer und originellem Charakter das Einstudieren seiner Opern”; Johann Friedrich Reichardt, “Etwas über Gluck und dessen Armide,” Berlinische musikalische Zeitung 1, no. 28 (1805): 110. 304 Italy... ,” and throughout this struggle, Gluck devoted his strength to perfecting French opera. 654 Reflecting in 1830 on the writings of the Querelle in his essay “Die französische Oper: Eine historische Skizze,” for the Berliner Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, the writer Franz Stöpel asserted that Gluck’s “Iphigénie ignited an enthusiasm, which would have been impossible to describe.” Later in his essay, Stöpel reminds the reader that “Gluck war ein Deutscher.” 655 From Lully to the Revolution, according to Stöpel, French opera has always relied on foreign composers to revive and change their dramatic practices. While some French critics complained about these changes, the Méhul character within Lyser’s narrative enthusiastically anticipates and accepts Gluck’s transformation of the Parisian stage. Yet Lyser acknowledged that there were hurdles in the way of staging Gluck’s works in major German cities, and that some German critics did not initially embrace Gluck’s reforms to French and Italian opera. 656 As was mentioned earlier, a particular point of contention for 19th-century writers was the 18th-century critic Forkel, who used the writings of Piccinnistes to attack Gluck’s music and his abuses of Italian opera. In his review of Riedel’s Über die Musik des Ritters Christoph von Gluck in his Musikalisch- Kritische Bibliothek, Forkel claimed we “lose too much when, instead of music, we 654 “Jene setzten dem großen deutschen Meister, den damals in Italien ganz vorzüglich beliebten Piccini entgegen... ”; ibid. 655 “...seine “Iphigenie” entzündete einen Enthusiasmus, welchen zu beschreiben unmöglich sein würde”; Franz Stöpel, “Freie Aufsätze. Die französische Oper: Eine historische Skizze,” BamZ 7, nos. 2-3 (January 1830): 10, 19. Stöpel believes he is citing a 1777 article by Abbé Arnaud from the Journal de Politique et de Littérature. Upon examination of the journal, all that I could find was one anonymous review of the Essai sur la révolution de la Musique en France by J. F. Marmontel. Marmontel’s essay is reprinted in François Lesure, ed. Querelle des Gluckistes et des Piccinnistes: Texte des pamphlets avec introduction, commentaire et index par François Lesure, vol. 1 (Geneva: Minkoff Reprint, 1984). 656 Henzel, “Zwischen Hofoper und Nationaltheater,” 201-16. 305 perform a mere musical declamation... .” 657 Lyser, following earlier critics’ leads, refutes the statements of Forkel by using the character of Hegrin to represent the old critic, and the attacks come from the mouth of Méhul. Lyser’s physical characterization of Hegrin and Méhul clearly highlights the categorical differences of the two sides. When Méhul is introduced, Lyser describes him as: a handsome, animated Frenchmen, well made, though not tall; the glance of the deep blue eyes, shaded by dark, heavy lashes, was free and unembarrassed. The outline of his features was expressive, his mouth and chin were classically formed, his complexion was of that rich brown which belongs to the native of Provence; his voice was agreeable, his manner easy and spirited without being assuming, and his dress poor, though decent and clean. This is in contrast to Hegrin: There was something expressive of mental weakness in his movements; and the air of discontent and spite in his whole manner was not mistaken. A rough, bristling, un-powdered peruke, of a pale brown color, covered his head; his features were heavy and might have passed for unmeaning, but for a pair of keen, squinting eyes, and a peevish twist about his mouth, which showed at once the disposition of the man.... 658 Méhul begins the conversation by asking Hegrin to speak about his fellow German, to which Hegrin replies, “I do no exactly understand what a people so accomplished, of so much judgment and taste as the French, find so grand and splendid in this man!” Shocked, Méhul asks him to explain himself, and here Hegrin uses the writings of Forkel to clarify his position: 657 “...wenn wir ihm statt Musik, eine bloße musikalische Deklamation geben wollen... ”; Schmierer, 208. 658 Lyser, “Gluck in Paris,” 186. 306 ‘To tell the truth, he does not pass for that much among us in Germany, because we know that he understands so much as nothing of true art, [of which] I mean the rules; as the learned Herr Forkel in Göttingen, and many other distinguished men have satisfactorily proven.’ 659 Méhul counters: ‘I am myself far from being so learned in all the rules of our art, so that I could judge to what extent the severe reproach, which his learned countrymen make of the Chevalier Gluck, is founded; but –’ with rising warmth, ‘of one thing I am fully firmly convinced, that his is a noble and powerful spirit. All I have ever heard by him, awakens high feelings in me....’ 660 This back-and-forth between youthful Méhul and squinting Hegrin continues, and in each instance, Hegrin cites the “learned Forkel” and Méhul relies on his emotions to guide his judgment about Gluck. It is through their appearances, mannerisms, and dialogue that Lyser captures what he feels is the character of the two parties: Gluck provokes an emotional response from his listeners and his followers are full of youthful vitality, whereas Forkel relies on archaic, irrelevant rules and his followers are outdated and weak-minded. 661 In Lyser’s interpretation of Gluck and his music, the German composer was ill received by his fellow countrymen during the 18th century, but inspired a new generation 659 “Aber die Wahrheit zu sagen, so gilt er bei uns in Deutschland nicht sonderlich viel, denn wir wissen, daß er von der eigentlichen Kunst, ich meine von den Regeln, so viel wie Nichts versteht, wie solches der gelehrte Herr Forkel in Göttingen und viele andere gelehrte Männer gründlich bewiesen haben”; ibid., 187. I have modified Ellis’s translation of the original. 660 “Ich selbst habe bei weitem nicht alle Regeln unserer Kunst so sehr gefaßt, als daß ich beurtheilen könnte, in wie fern der harte Vorwurf gegründet ist, welchen seine gelehrten Landsleute dem Ritter Gluck machen – aber – (fuhr er mit steigender Wärme fort) – davon bin ich fest und innigst überzeugt, daß Gluck ein gewaltiger edler Geist ist. Was ich bis jetzt von ihm hörte erregte die würdigsten Gefühle in mir... ”; ibid. I have again modified Ellis’s translation. 661 On page 188 of “Gluck in Paris” Hegrin claims Gluck has little regard for church style, to which Méhul responds that opera has nothing to do with church music––“Would your German musical critics have Gluck’s Armide made a nun’s hymn, or his wild motets of Tauris sung in the style of Palestrina?” 307 of youthful, progressive composers in France. This recreation of the debates during the Querelle, in turn, points an accusatory finger at Germans of the late 18th century. That is, German audiences preferred the operas by Italian composers, and some critics dismissed Gluck’s works on technical grounds, not because of their artistic and emotional content. In the end, it would take the French to show them the true merit and worth of Gluck’s music. 662 Despite a few bad critiques from some German writers, by the time Lyser wrote “Gluck in Paris” Gluck’s place in the pantheon of great German composers was firmly established. If Gluck’s adherence to Germanic art was ever in doubt, critics could point to Gluck’s meeting with the well-known German poet Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock. 663 Gluck set a selection of the poet’s Odes to music, and he planned to compose an opera based on the play Hermannsschlacht. 664 Though for Lyser Gluck was a German composer, it seems he was unaware of Gluck’s completed and planned German works, 662 A point discussed later in this chapter is that Lyser would point the same accusatory finger at his contemporaries who rejected the music of Meyerbeer on either technical grounds or because of his reliance on foreign (i.e., French and Italian) models. 663 Carl Friedrich Cramer published an anecdote in his Magazin der Musik in 1783 describing Gluck and Klopstock’s meeting at the court of the Margrave of Baden, where the composer and his niece sang the Odes to the poet. For Christoph Martin Wieland’s Teutscher Merkur (Weimar, 1776), Philip Kayser wrote “Empfindungen eines Jüngers in der Kunst vor Ritter Glucks Bildniße,” in which the narrator describes to the bust of Gluck the overwhelming emotional sensations he receives when hearing and playing his Odes. Le Moël notes that Gluck’s Odes received a considerable amount of attention in the late 18th century; “Gluck et les publicistes des Lumières allemandes,” 35-36. 664 Howard has reprinted Gluck’s letter to Klopstock stating his intention to compose Hermannsschlacht, in Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 215. This letter might have been known by 19th-century musical connoisseurs. A copy of the letter in an unknown hand was attached to the inside cover of the first-edition score to Armide located in the collection of the Sing-Akademie zu Berlin (SA 989). Additionally, visitors to Gluck’s house claimed they heard him perform the work from memory. See Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 234-35 for translations of Joseph Martin Kraus’s and Reichardt’s accounts of hearing Gluck perform Hermannsschlacht. Gluck’s plan for Hermannsschlacht was first made public by Friedrich Rochlitz in “Glucks letzte Plane [sic] und Arbeiten,” AmZ 11, no. 25 (22 March 1809): 387-90 written as a statement from the composer’s student, Salieri. 308 and only just experienced performances of the French operas in Germany or Austria. 665 With the work Gluck did leave behind, German opera houses in major cities often performed the Paris operas and Parisian versions in the German language. 666 Lyser mentions neither Hermannsschlacht nor the Odes, and even suggests that the French version of Iphigénie en Tauride is his last work, forgetting not just Écho et Narcisse but also the subsequent German version of Iphigenia in Tauris for Vienna. Though Lyser leaves out Gluck’s contribution to German music, critics and readers of “Gluck in Paris” were certain of Gluck’s German heritage. All of Lyser’s statements on Gluck the German in the narrative confirmed what had already been established about the composer’s nationality in 19th-century music journals and other sources. This is not to say that Gluck’s upbringing in Bohemia was ignored by German writers; in fact, it was celebrated. When Méhul, in “Gluck in Paris,” visits the old master at his apartment prior to the last rehearsal of Iphigénie en Tauride, Gluck fondly tells the young composer that it was his youthful adventures in the Bohemian countryside that awoke his desire for music: When a boy, in my home, in lovely Bohemia, I heard her voice, as a divine voice, in all that surrounded me – in the dense forest, in the gloomy ravine, the romantic valley – on the bold, stark cliff – in the cheerful hunter’s call, or the 665 Lyser never directly states when or where he heard Gluck’s works. He would have had ample opportunity during his many visits to Berlin. In Dresden, where Lyser was living when he wrote “Gluck in Paris,” the Hofoper staged Iphigenia auf Tauris (translation by J. D. Sander) in 1813 and 1829. Later, in 1843, Lyser contributed to critiques of Wagner’s direction of Armide for the Allgemeine Theater-Chronik and Allgemeine Wiener Musik-Zeitung (see Helmut Kirchmeyer, Situationsgeschichte der Musikkritik und des musikalischen Pressewesens in Deutschland, Teil IV: Das zeitgenössische Wagner-Bild, vol. 1, Wagner in Dresden [Regensburg: Gustav Bosse, 1967], 714). 666 Gluck himself oversaw the German translation of Iphigénie en Tauride by Johann Baptist Alxinger for the 1781 visit of the Russian Grand Duke, which famously delayed Mozart’s Entführung aus dem Serail. The performance history and practice of Gluck’s operas on the German stage has been discussed in the first chapter. 309 hoarse song of stream and torrent, her voice thrilled to my heart, like a sweet and glorious prophecy. All was clear to my youthful vision. 667 When writing his biography of Gluck, A. B. Marx mirrored these romantic words in his description of Gluck’s youth: “The youth could not think of Weidenwang or Neuschloss [two residences of Gluck’s childhood] as his home – it was the forest, the forest with its dreamy shadows and fantastic, flashing streaks of light.” 668 For Marx, these “sounds of nature” (Naturklänge) would later manifest themselves in Orpheus and other creations. 669 These accounts, and the manner in which authors used them, indicate the desire to manipulate Gluck’s biography to have him conform to nationalist and aesthetic ideals. In the case of Lyser and his contemporaries, on the one hand, they defined Gluck as a German to emphasize his dogged determination to reform not only French, but 18th- century operatic practice as a whole. When critics defined him a Bohemian, on the other 667 Lyser, “Gluck in Paris,” 196. Hoffmann’s influence on Lyser is most pronounced at this moment. Within Ritter Gluck, Gluck states, “‘For many years I sighed in the kingdom of dreams–– there––indeed, there––I sat in a marvelous valley and listened to the flowers singing together. [...] Now tones, like rays of light, flowed from my head to the flowers, which greedily drank them. The leaves of the sunflower grew bigger and bigger––fire streamed from them––encompassed me––the eye had vanished and I was in the calyx’” (8). 668 “Nicht Weidenwang, nicht Neuschloss konnte der Kleine als seine Heimath empfinden lernen; der Wald war es, der Wald mit seinen träumerischen Schatten, mit den märchenhaft durchzitternden Streiflichten”; A. B. Marx, Gluck und die Oper (Berlin: Otto Janke, 1863, reprint, Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1980), 14. It seems that Lyser and Marx drew from the painter Johann Christian von Mannlich’s memoirs, Histoire de ma vie, in which the composer recounts his music education and wanderings through the Bohemian countryside. The memoirs circulated in manuscript form throughout the 19th century (Howard, Gluck, viii). Parts of Mannlich’s memoirs were excerpted for the article “Gluck à Paris en 1774,” in La Revue musicale (1934); selections have been reprinted and translated by Daniel Heartz, “Coming of Age in Bohemia,” 521, and Patricia Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 2-3. Both Howard and Heartz note certain inconsistencies in Mannlich’s account. In her article “The Wandering Minstrel: An Eighteenth-Century Fiction?” (Eighteenth-Century Fiction 13, no. 1 [2000]: 41-52), Howard observes the similarity of some of Mannlich’s narrative to popular “wandering minstrel” narratives in the 18th century. 669 Marx, Gluck und die Oper, 15. 310 hand, they painted a romantic, vivid portrait of a youthful musician drawing inspiration for his musical creations from the unspoiled landscapes of his homeland. 670 Gluck and Méhul: Gluck the Teacher After Gluck reflects on his Bohemian upbringing and career to the twenty-year- old Méhul (who, if he really did befriend Gluck at this point, would have been sixteen), the old master admits that death approaches: “But with folly flies also youth, its ardor and its vigor; and there remains to him enthusiasm, passion for the sublime––and––a grave!” 671 The young composer begs Gluck not to think of such things, since “much more remains to you!” 672 It is then that Gluck counsels Méhul that the artist needs to free himself from the fetters of the mundane world, so that he can pull his artistic work from a spiritual realm and give it form in this world. Whether the opera succeeds or not, Gluck does not care: “‘I will bear it, whether these Parisians bawlers adjudge me fame and wealth for my work, or hiss me down.’ The hour struck for the rehearsal; Gluck broke off the discourse, and accompanied by his young friend, went to the Royal Academy of Music.” 673 The words Lyser puts in Gluck’s mouth really come from the author’s own hyper- romantic imagination and his fascination with Hoffmann’s writing, and which lack any grounding in Gluck’s own writings or eyewitness accounts of him. When Lyser 670 I am drawing from the historiographic works of Hayden White, who notes in his Tropics of Discourse: Essays in Cultural Criticism (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978) that historical “events are made into a story by the suppression or subordination of certain” elements in order for the data to conform to the historian’s own narrative (84). See also Brent Peterson’s History, Fiction, and Germany: Writing the Nineteenth-Century Nation (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 2005) in which he discusses the function of German historical fiction in the 19th century and the desire to write a unified narrative of a common people, who were once separated. 671 Lyser, “Gluck in Paris,” 196. 672 Ibid., 197. 673 Ibid. 311 published his version of the Gluck-Méhul meeting, however, it came at the end of a series of Gluck-Méhul narratives that circulated in France and Europe after Méhul’s death. Though the circumstances of their meeting may differ, in each of these Gluck-Méhul narratives the author states that the young composer receives counsel and protection from the old German composer. In the case of “Gluck in Paris,” Gluck counsels the young composer that the act of artistic creation requires the artist to draw from a mystic realm and ignore the trappings of instant fame. The overall effect of these Gluck-Méhul narratives is to emphasize the French Méhul as the inheritor and student of the Germanic Gluck. The most we can say of a relationship between Gluck and Méhul was that Gluck was initially offered the libretto to Cora by Valadier, but citing old age, Gluck rejected the text and it went to the twenty-year-old Méhul, instead. 674 Additionally, Méhul’s teacher, Jean-Frédéric Edelmann, arranged keyboard editions of several of Gluck’s operas. The first mention of Gluck as Méhul’s teacher, however, occurs during the composer’s lifetime, in Alexander E. Choron and François J. Fayolle’s Dictionnaire historique des musiciens of 1811, in which they claim that “At eighteen-years old, he was presented to Gluck, who deigned to initiate him into the philosophical and poetic parts of the musical art.” 675 It was under the tutelage of the “sublime author of Alceste” that Méhul wrote three operas: La Psyché of Voisenon, L’Anacréon by Pierre-Joseph-Justin 674 Gluck’s letter to Valadier is reprinted in Hedwig and E. H. Mueller von Asow, ed., The Collected Correspondence and Papers of Christoph Willibald Gluck, trans. Stewart Thomson (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1962), 204. 675 “A dix-huit ans, il fut présenté à Gluck, qui daigna l’initier dans la partie philosophique et poétique de l’art musical” ; Alexander Etienne Choron and Fraçois Joseph Fayolle, Dictionnaire historique des musiciens: artistes et amateurs, morts ou vivans précédé d’un sommaire de l’histoire de la musique, 2 vols. (reprint, Hildesheim: Olms, 1971), 2:38. 312 Bernard (Gentil Bernard), and Lausus et Lydie of Valadier. All three scores are conveniently lost, and records at the Académie Royale de Musique are vague. 676 Whereas talk of pedagogic interaction between Gluck and Méhul occupies only two sentences in Choron and Fayolle’s dictionary entry, in later stories the meeting grows into a heroic narrative of the sixteen-year-old Méhul sneaking into the rehearsal of Iphigénie en Tauride, getting caught by the Opéra staff, and then being offered a free ticket. 677 It was the writer and librettist Eugène Planard who first published the anecdote in the Ephémérides universelles in 1834, claiming that it came from the composer himself. 678 Méhul tells the reader that he arrived in Paris in 1779 with a letter of introduction, though not stating from whom, and that it was his desire to “voir Gluck, l’entendre, lui parler.” Upon knocking on the door to Gluck’s apartment, Méhul is greeted by the composer’s wife, who informs him that her husband is in the middle of working. Upon seeing the young man’s disappointment, Madame Gluck ushers him behind a screen where he could watch the old composer work at the harpsichord: The door was opened and closed again without the illustrious artist suspecting that a profane was entering the sanctuaire. Here was I, behind a screen, which by good luck was pierced here and there so that my eye could feast on the least movement or the slightest grimace of my Orpheus. 679 676 Citing the complete lack of evidence, Bartlet concludes that these works can no longer be considered part of Méhul’s corpus, Etienne-Nicolas Méhul and Opera, 669. 677 Ibid. My use of “heroic narrative” is derived from White’s theory in Tropics of Discourse. K. M. Knittel, in her article “Pilgrimages to Beethoven: Reminiscences by his Contemporaries,” Music & Letters 84, no. 1 (February 2003): 19-34, expands upon White’s theories and applies them to pilgrimage narratives surrounding Beethoven. 678 Eugène Planard, “Arts. 1818 Mort de Méhul, compositeur français,” in Ephémérides universelles 10 (Paris: Corley, Libraire-Éditeur, 1834), 318-20, quoted in Arthur Pougin, Méhul: sa vie, son génie, son caractère (Paris: Librairie Fischbacher, 1889, reprint, Geneva: Minkoff Reprint, 1973), 27-28. 679 “Le cabinet s’ouvrit donc et se referma sans que l’illustre artiste se doutât qu’un profane approchait du sanctuaire: et me voilà derrière un paravent heureusement percé par-ci par-là pour que mon œil pût se régaler du moindre mouvement, de la plus petite grimace de mon Orphée”; Pougin, Méhul: sa vie, son 313 Observing Gluck’s clothes, Méhul notes, His head was covered with a black velvet cap in the German fashion. He word slippers, his hose were carelessly drawn in to his nether garments, and his only other item of dress was a sort of cotton nightshirt with wide sleeves, which barely reached his belt. I thought him magnificent in these clothes. All the pomp of Louis XIV’s attire could not have filled me with such wonder as Gluck’s informal dress. 680 While Lyser’s Gluck and Méhul meet during a heated debate about music, Planard has Gluck and Méhul meet by accident: Suddenly I saw him leap from his chair, seize the seats and armchairs, position them around the room to form the wings [of the stage], return to his harpsichord to sound a note, and here he was, holding a corner of his nightshirt in each hand, humming an air de ballet, curtseying like a young dancer, performing glissandes around his chair, leaping and prancing, adopting the poses, gestures, and all the dainty attitudes of a nymph from the Opéra. Then he seemed to want to direct the corps de ballet, and as he had insufficient space, he attempted to enlarge his stage; to this end he struck the first leaf of the screen, which unfolded suddenly, and I was discovered. After an explanation, and further visits, Gluck honored me with his protection and his friendship. 681 Méhul continues to relate how he was able to witness the rehearsal and premiere of Iphigénie en Tauride. Having no money, Méhul hid himself in a “petite loge” where he passed the night: “I slept; but the cold woke me up. The clock struck eleven o’clock in the morning, and little by little, I noticed from my hiding place several white phantoms génie, son caractère, 27. I have slightly modified the translation in Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 198. 680 Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 198. 681 Ibid. 314 who glided over the stage like ghosts on the Elysium Fields.” 682 In the morning, the hungry, disheveled composer sees the dancer Gaetano Vestris rehearsing on stage. Having met him earlier at Gluck’s house, and thinking he could receive his protection and a ticket, Méhul runs to the stage, grabs Vestris’s arm, and calls out in a “voix lamentable.” Then, The dancers gave a cry: my hair, curled and powdered the day before, was in the greatest disarray and soiled my modest black suit, costume de rigueur at that time for those who were penniless, with powder and ointment, not to mention that I was covered in dust from the benches and the paleness of my face: I was, in a word, scarier than a country devil. 683 Le danseuses poussèrent un cri: mes cheveux frisés et poudrés de la veille étaient dans le plus grand désordre et avaient chargé de poudre et de pommade mon modeste habit noir, costume alors de rigueur pour qui n’avait pas un sou, sans compter la poussière des banquettes dont j’étais couvert et la pâleur de mon visage; j’étais enfin plus effrayant qu’un diable du pays. Upon seeing his face, Vestris lets out a laugh, provides the hungry composer with chocolate, and tells him to report to the theater director, since his passion for the opera merits a free pass. 684 As in his visit to Gluck’s apartment, Méhul overcomes the barriers in his path to hearing the music of Gluck and seeing the great composer. In both ordeals, individuals (Madame Gluck and Vestris) reward Méhul for his tenacity. In later versions of this account in both French and other languages, Méhul receives his ticket directly from Gluck. 682 “Je dormis; mais le froid me réveilla. Onze heures du matin sonnèrent, et peu à peu j’aperçus de ma cachette quelques fantômes blancs qui glissaient sur le théâtre comme des ombres aux Champs-Élysées”; Pougin, Méhul: sa vie, son génie, son caractère, 27. 683 Ibid., 28. 684 Ibid. 315 In 1835 Adolphe Adam expanded Planard’s narrative into “La Répétition générale d’Iphigénie en Tauride” for La Gazette Musicale de Paris. 685 Adams’s story was translated in full in the Magazin für die Literatur des Auslandes (12 June 1835), and excerpts appeared in the Zeitung für die elegante Welt (27 August 1835). Adam retains the shape of Planard’s narrative–– Méhul’s first meeting with Gluck at his apartment, then trying to sneak into the performance of Iphigénie en Tauride. Adam’s version likely provided a model for Lyser. 686 Perhaps based on Choron and Fayolle’s statement that Gluck taught the young composer about the philosophical and poetic elements of music, Méhul receives some type of counsel or some lesson from Gluck within Planard’s and Adam’s narratives. Though Planard does not give us any details as to the exact nature of Gluck’s “protection and his friendship,” Méhul receives his first lesson by watching Gluck through the screen. While Gluck’s teaching method in this scene may be unconventional, what is central to this apartment scene is Méhul’s initiation from the profane into the composer’s sanctuaire. 687 In both Adam’s and Planard’s texts, the young composer’s initiation is symbolized by the forceful crash through the screen. Hidden, Méhul watches Gluck’s 685 Adolphe Adam, “La Répétition générale d’Iphigénie en Tauride,” Gazette Musicale de Paris 2, no. 21 (24 May 1835): 173-80. 686 Ibid., 175. In Adam’s version of the Méhul-Gluck meeting at the apartment, after Gluck kicks over the screen and knocks Méhul to the ground, the dancer Vestris enters demanding a new ballet. But Gluck grabs the old dancer and forces him to dance to the Scythian march, over and over again, growing faster each time. (Adam characterizes Gluck’s actions as “le vengeance de l’Allemand.”) After dealing with Vestris, Gluck turns his attention to Méhul, and immediately recognizes him for the aspiring composer that he is, and offers him his affection, protection, and counsel. Lyser alludes to Adam’s scene, though he changes Vestris to Jean-Georges Noverre. 687 Knittel, “Pilgrimages to Beethoven” (21-22), remarks on the static nature of these “quest plots” within the “pilgrimage” narratives to see Beethoven. A similar “plot” can be perceived in Planard’s and Adam’s narratives: a desire to see Gluck, some barrier (Gluck working or Méhul having no ticket), and then the possibility of more meetings. 316 performance (in the case of Adam’s story, Gluck is staging the end of Act IV, scene iv of Tauride with chairs) and only the composer himself can break the young composer’s fixation, and bring him into his sanctuary and musical drama. 688 Adam continues, telling the reader that: the lessons were rare, to tell the truth... . Méhul had already made serious studies in the technical part of his art, and... it was the philosophical part in which he needed to be initiated. Most often the lessons were simply conversation of a teacher and student. les leçons étaient rares à la vérité... Méhul avait déjà fait de fortes études dans la partie technique de son art, et ... c’était la partie philosophique à laquelle il avait besoin d’être initié. Le plus souvent, les leçons n’étaient que de simples conversations du maître à l’élève…. 689 Mirroring Choron and Fayolle’s statement, Gluck provides lessons of a philosophical nature, and even reflects upon the ups and downs of his career. According to Adam, Gluck admits his mistakes to Méhul, in particular his reuse of earlier pieces from his Italian operas. Lyser’s Gluck makes a similar revelation to the young composer about past misdeeds: Too soon I learned that something was impossible. The royal eagle soars upward toward the sun, yet he can never reach the orb; and soon the spirit’s wings are clipped! Then come harassing doubts, false ambition, thirst of gain, envy, disappointed vanity, worldly cares––the hateful gnomes of earth––that cling to you, and drag you downward, when you would soar like the eagle. So it is with the boy––the youth–– with manhood––with old age. 690 688 My analysis here comes from Ernest Kris and Otto Kurz’s Legend, Myth, and Magic in the Image of the Artist: A Historical Experiment (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1979). In discussing an anecdote about Michelangelo, they note that “an onlooker is frozen to the spot by the sight of one of Michelangelo’s statues, and only the work’s creator can break him free” (110). In many ways, Méhul is “frozen” to the spot at the sight of Gluck’s performance, and it requires the composer to break him free. 689 Adam, “La Répétition générale,” 177. 690 Lyser, “Gluck in Paris,” 196. 317 Though Lyser is not as explicit as Adam, knowledge of Gluck’s self-borrowing placed the old composer in an awkward position with 19th-century Romantic writers and critics. With the Romantic period’s emphasis on individuality and originality, the question remained of how to justify Gluck’s self-borrowing. 691 Adam’s and Lyser’s solution is to have the old composer admit his mistakes and teach Méhul, who represents the younger generation of Romantic composers, to avoid this mistake. As for Adam’s version of Méhul’s sleepover in the Opéra, the author creates a romantically inspired dream narrative. Méhul experiences a wild nightmare with ghosts dancing in front of him, and the young composer begins running through the theater, frightening the dancers. 692 Vestris’s voice stops Méhul, and after he explains his situation, everyone laughs. Gluck then appears before Méhul: Well, little guy, Gluck said to [Méhul], do you not want to see my opera this evening? Why did you not come to get your ticket? [Méhul] – But, Monsieur Gluck, yesterday I heard you say to a Duke that you do not have any tickets. [Gluck] – Of course, I do not have any for dukes, but for a musician, for my friend, here’s one. 691 What would have been particularly troubling for some 19th-century critics was his reuse of the music from his aria “Se mai senti spirarti sul volto” from his 1752 opera La clemenza di Tito, in order to fashion the French air “O malheureuse Iphigénie” in his most popular and frequently performed opera (at least in the 19th century), Iphigénie en Tauride. Berlioz does make note of Gluck’s reuse of materials in his article for the Gazette Musicale de Paris (1834), and it may be the reason why Adam brings it into his narrative. There are other mentions of his self-borrowing in other articles; see Reichardt, “Etwas über Gluck und dessen Armide,” 110, and Cramer’s Magazine der Music, 1352-53. There was, however, a collective ‘look- the-other-way’ approach to his self-borrowing. This may have been due in part to the unavailability of earlier works by Gluck. Hoffmann states, for example, that “the reviewer has none of his [Gluck’s] earlier operas such as Demetrio to hand”; Hoffmann’s Musical Writings, 438. By the second half of the 19th century when Marx wrote his biography of Gluck, he had brought to light much more of Gluck’s parodying and self-borrowing than previous music critics. He does not condemn Gluck for such actions, since self- borrowing was a common practice of the 18th century. 692 This blending of dreams into reality hints at the influence of Hoffmann’s writing on Adam and other French writers in the 19th century. In addition to this dream scene, Adam inserts his own voice into the story at several points, in a Hoffmannesque manner. Katharine Ellis discusses the influence of Hoffmann’s writings on French music critics in “The Uses of Fiction,” 253. 318 Eh bien, petit, [Gluck] dit, est-ce que tu ne veux pas voir mon opéra, ce soir? Pourquoi donc n’es-tu pas venu chercher ton billet? [Méhul] – Mais, monsieur Gluck, je vous ai entendu dire hier à un Duc que vous n’en aviez pas. – Certainement, je n’en ai pas pour les ducs, mais pour un musicien, pour mon ami, tiens le voilà. 693 The words Adam places in Gluck’s mouth not only betray a desire to shape Gluck’s operatic reform as a precursor to the egalitarian language of the French Revolution, 694 but also the author’s aspiration to portray the 18th century as an idealized past in which musicians lived in a state of perpetual brotherhood and counted themselves removed from the constraints of social hierarchy. 695 Despite a letter from Méhul’s nephew to Castil-Blaze dismissing the account, there was something to this narrative that attracted both French and German critics. 696 Reflecting on Franz Liszt’s encounter with Beethoven when he was eleven, K. M. Knittel points out that both composers were greatly influential in the 19th century, and therefore, “It is an example of a story that, even if it is completely fabricated, should nonetheless be 693 Adam, “La Répétition générale,” 180. 694 Simon Golhill notes that French writers connected Gluck’s reforms for the Paris opera with those of the French Revolution. In 1796, Jean-Baptist Leclerc claimed that Marie Antoinette’s invitation to Gluck was in fact her own undoing, as his music awoke French souls to rebellion (Victorian Culture and Classical Antiquity: Art, Opera, Fiction, and the Proclamation of Modernity [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011], 87-88). Gluck’s operatic revolution as a beginning of the French Revolution was a theme alluded to here and there in the 19th century, but never made explicit. In a fictional narrative by Marx, Gluck states, “Truly, if her [the Queen’s] whole people were to rebel against her in a fit of rage, she would only rule more nobly and gently!”; “Verlorene Liebe, oder die deutschen Komponisten in Paris,” BamZ 4 (1827): 373-75, quoted and translated in The Attentive Listener: Three Centuries of Music Criticism, ed., Harry Haskell (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996), 87. 695 Hirth comments on the nostalgic nature of Lyser’s writing in the Künstlernovelle genre (Lyser, 176-80). Additionally, John Irving observes that in 19th-century biographical accounts of the great composer, “writers produced an image of past, unimpeachable greatness, as embodied in the works of these composers” (181); “The Invention of Tradition,” in The Cambridge History of Nineteenth-Century Music, ed. Jim Samson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002). 696 Bartlet, Etienne-Nicolas Méhul and Opera, 669. 319 true.” 697 In the case of Méhul and Gluck, both composers occupied such a central role in the evolution of French opera in their respective times in Paris that 19th-century music critics found it necessary to bring them together. The painter Mannlich falsified his memoirs, claiming that Méhul came to Gluck’s apartment in 1774. 698 Both Marx and Berlioz also repeat anecdotes about Méhul visiting Gluck. 699 In the preface to her collection of novellas in which Lyser’s “Gluck in Paris” appears, E. F. Ellet states, “Each [novella] is founded on incidents that really occurred in the artist’s life, and presents an illustration of his character and the style of his works.” 700 By drawing Méhul into the Querelle des Gluckistes et des Piccinnistes, Planard and Adam demonstrate to their reader that Méhul’s education came from the German Gluck, not from the Italian Piccinni. Katharine Ellis notes that the commission and publication of stories like “La Répétition générale d’Iphigénie en Tauride” by the Gazette’s publisher, Maurice Schlesinger, “present, in microcosm, the central preoccupations of a Germanically-inflected Romanticism in 1830s and ’40s Paris, tailored to a musically literate audience.” 701 In this manner, Méhul, especially in Adam’s story, is “Germanically-inflected” with Gluck’s (i.e., Germanic) aesthetic principals and style of opera. 702 For 19th-century French writers, it is Méhul’s operas that should be on 697 Knittel, “Pilgrimages to Beethoven,” 30. 698 Mannlich, Histoire de ma vie, 255. The editor Henriette Weiss von Trostprugg adds a footnote to Mannlich’s statement that the composer would have been eleven at this time, and not yet living in Paris. 699 Marx, Gluck und die Oper, 283. Marx lifts his statement from Fayolle and Choron nearly verbatim, and Berlioz repeats Planard’s narrative, which had appeared the same year (1834) as his essay “Gluck” for the Gazette, 184. 700 Ellet, Nouvellettes of the Musicians, preface. 701 Ellis, “The Uses of Fiction,” 262. 702 Adam, “La Répétition générale” (178), attributes to Gluck the importation of the German symphonic tradition into opera. 320 the stage of the Opéra, not Rossini’s or Meyerbeer’s, since Méhul is the rightful heir and successor to Gluck. 703 While Lyser shared the French writers’ nostalgic view of the 18th century, there was an additional reason for him (and other German critics) to link Gluck and Méhul together. The French composer’s operas were popular both critically and financially on the German stage. 704 In his review of Méhul’s Ariodante in 1816, Hoffmann called the composer “learned and versatile.” 705 Within these critics’ writings there are, in addition to direct admiration of Méhul’s music, statements concerning its similarity to Gluck’s music. Weber claimed Méhul’s music demonstrated a “study of the oldest Italian masters and more particularly of Gluck’s dramatic works.” 706 One critic, for example, would describe Méhul’s overture to Stratonice as “approximating itself to Gluck’s style.” 707 While critics perceived a certain musical connection between Gluck and Méhul, now through the circulation of Gluck-Méhul anecdotes in Germany that connection became reality. By the 1830s, audiences and critics could accept Méhul as an initiate and 703 My language here is based on Irving, “The Invention of Tradition,” 181. 704 See John Warrack, German Opera: From the Beginnings to Wagner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 191-213 for a general discussion of the performance history of Méhul’s operas on the German stage. 705 Hoffmann, reviews from the AmZ of Méhul’s Ariodante (June 1816), quoted and translated in E. T. A. Hoffmann’s Musical Writings, 300. 706 Sämtliche Schriften von Carl Maria von Weber, ed. G. Kaiser (Berlin and Leipzig: Schuster & Loeffler, 1908), 278-79, quoted and translated in Warrack, German Opera, 201. Stephen Meyer provides a detailed discussion of the influence of Méhul’s Joseph on Carl Maria von Weber in Carl Maria von Weber and the Search for a German Opera (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2003), 55-75. 707 “Méhul’s Ouverture zur Oper Stratonice, Gluck’s Styl sich annähernd. ...,” in “Nachrichten: Berlin, den 6. März 1836,” AmZ 38, no. 12 (March 1836), 193. For a further discussion of the similarities between Méhul’s Stratonice and Gluck’s operas, especially Alceste and Iphigénie en Tauride see M. Elizabeth C. Bartlet’s introduction to Stratonice: Comédie-Héroïque by Étienne-Nicolas Méhul, in French Opera in the 17th and 18th Centuries vol. 72b, ed. Barry S. Brook (Stuyvesant, NY: Pendragon Press, 1997), xix-xxxiii. 321 inheritor of the Germanic school of composition and aesthetic principals set forth by Gluck. 708 Two years after Lyser’s “Gluck in Paris” appeared in print, Leopold Schefer (1785-1862) published the narrative Der Sohn vom Ritter Gluck about Gluck’s real student, Salieri. 709 A student of Salieri himself during 1816 and 1817, Schefer wrote Der Sohn vom Ritter Gluck to revitalize the sullied image of his teacher. The tale begins with the unnamed narrator returning to Vienna from Italy, to spend the evening on Taborstraße, one of Vienna’s oldest streets. In a Hoffmannesque manner, the narrator witnesses various musical notes transform into twelve valiant men of music, including Beethoven, Weigl, Vanhal, and Seifried. 710 After greeting each other, the musicians bring up the topic of Salieri’s sudden insanity and murder of Mozart , to which the narrator replies that Salieri is his master. Furthermore, since Salieri was the student of Gluck, the narrator was “Gluck’s grandson.” 711 With this statement, the character G... (possibly Gluck) appears to explain that it was not jealousy that drove Salieri insane but love of the beautiful. In a rambling and inarticulate speech, G… tries to explain his philosophies about beauty and inspiration, 708 The connection between Gluck and Méhul on a musical level may also be due to the performance practice of the French composer on the German stage. In Berlin, for example, Bernhard Joseph Klein replaced the spoken dialogue with orchestral recitatives for Méhul’s Uthal (a transcription is at the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin, Musikabteilung mit Mendelssohn-Archiv, Mus. ms. 14158/1). The opera first appeared on the Berlin stage in 1808 and was then restaged in 1818 (see collection of playbills in the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin, Hanschriftabteilung, Yp 4824/2100). Joseph received the same treatment, but some dialogue remained (Mus. ms. 14167). Both works were performed in German. 709 Leopold Schefer, “Der Sohn vom Ritter Gluck,” in Helena: Taschenbuch für 1838 vol. 2 (Bunzlau: Appun’s Buchhandlung, 1838), 363-99. 710 Schefer lists only names of composers he could have met in Vienna, not all twelve. 711 Ibid., 364. 322 while the other musicians snicker under their breath.. 712 To clarify his statement, G... tells the anecdote of the painter Franceso Francia (also known as Francis Reibolini), who was so taken by the beauty of Rafael’s painting of St. Cecilia in Bologna, that he became jealous and subsequently died of melancholy. An unnamed Kapellmeister interrupts, saying that Salieri is Francia and Mozart Rafael. G... replies “we know that.” G... continues the anecdote: “Should not we musicians in Germany have our own anecdotes about art, just as the Italian painters? Well, I believe, we do not have enough of them! There is not enough fire and spirit in people’s lives! But I have not finished yet. For when Rafael beheld the madonnas of Reibolini, he was frightened, almost prayed and vowed with tears in his eyes: Such heavenly innocence, purity and lofty childlike poise I can never achieve.” “So you are saying: Salieri, too, has written several pieces which are higher in quality than anything Mozart has written!” I responded, happy for my master. 713 ‘Sollen wir Musiker in Deutschland nicht auch unsre Kunstanekdoten haben, wie die Italienischen Maler? Ja, ich meine: wir haben deren nicht genug! Es ist nicht genug Feuer und Geist in dem Leben der Menschen! Doch ich bin noch nicht fertig. Denn als nun Rafael auch die Madonnen des Reibolini sah, da erschrak er, betete fast und schwur mit feuchten Augen: Solche himmlische Unschuld, Reinheit und hohes kindliches Wesen kann ich nicht erreichen.’ Also Sie meinen: ‘Auch Salieri hat einige Sachen geschrieben, die Mozart wiederum nie erreicht!’ sprache ich froh für meinen Meister. Schefer’s anecdote about Rafael is clearly meant to redeem his teacher and demonstrate that there was a great deal of admiration between the two composers. 712 Schefer is likely poking fun at Hoffmann’s “Kingdom Dreams” speech from Ritter Gluck, suggesting that if Gluck really did say such things, it might not have sounded very articulate. 713 Ibid., 372. 323 The following day, the narrator visits Salieri in the asylum. Upon entering Salieri’s room, he meets a doctor who tells him that Salieri could not possible be a criminal since “...in sleep, he is sensible, innocent and happy... . True criminals, on the contrary, have even more frightening dreams than daytime thoughts... .’” 714 The narrator notices a letter Salieri wrote to “Mein theurer Vater Gluck.” Within the letter, Salieri expresses his hatred for Mozart and confesses to the murder. After finishing the letter, the doctor assures Salieri’s student that “wir sind nicht so dumm!” 715 The narrator realizes that he belongs to a long chain of teachers and students. With this realization, he sheds tears for the grandson of Sammartini, who was Gluck’s spiritual father. After all Gluck had killed Duni, Philidor, Monsigny, and Grétry, Lully and Rameau, even the mighty Piccinni, who otherwise would have no rivals today. And the latter, too, had murdered Pergolesi, Galuppi and Jomelli; – inside, but his envy, however, had turned into competitiveness due to the feeling of strength, and had made peace with Gluck. ... And Salieri had stormed the same heaven–under the shield of Gluck, in his armor––and was killed like Patroclus. For his desire for glory had extended into his older years when Mozart’s strength was still young and fresh. And so, now he sat raging about that, but now in peace, like Orestes. 716 ... ja ich vergoß Thränen über den Enkel von San-Martini, der wiederum Glucks geistiger Vater gewesen. Hatte ja auch Gluck den Duni Philidor, Monsigny und Grétry, Lulli und Rameau todt gemacht, selbst den gewaltigen Piccini, der heut ohne Nebenbuhler wäre. Und auch Dieser hatte den Pergolesi, Galuppi und Jomelli ermordet; – innerlich, Aber sein Neid war durch Kraftgefühl Wetteifer geworden, und mit Gluck selbst hatte er Frieden gemacht... . Und Salieri hatte denselben Himmel erstürmt– unter Glucks Schilde, in seinem Harnisch, und – war gefallen, wie Patroklus. Denn er hatte seine Ruhmbegier noch mit in die ältern 714 “‘im Schlafe ist er vernünftig und schuldlos und froh. ... Wahre Verbrecher dagegen haben noch schrecklichere Träume als Tagesgedanken...’”; ibid., 376. 715 Ibid., 395. 716 Ibid., 397 324 Jahre genommen, in welchen Mozarts Kraft jung war. Und darüber saß er nun rasend – aber jetzt ruhend, wie Orestes. Salieri wakes up, sits himself at the piano, and performs the Representation of Chaos from Haydn’s Creation, and states, “Ja, das habe ich gut gemacht.” 717 (Salieri conducted the work at the university in 1808 with Haydn present.) He then performs a selection from the best of Beethoven’s earlier works (the narrator does not identify which) and states again, “Ja, das habe ich gut gemacht.” Salieri continues to perform works by other composers. When he is finished, he claims that “Thus there is no more a better spirit than the spirit of music, and that is me, my friend! Learn from me! I am the Master.” 718 The narrator understands that Salieri sees himself as the supporter of Vienna’s great musical culture and the teacher of the future generation of composers. As such, he “...enjoys all [works] without envy.” 719 Salieri then proclaims: ‘What more do you want of me! Did not Mozart have an inkling of me when he said to Wenzel Müller: ‘If the two of us were fused, we still would not make up a Haydn!’ With the name of Mozart, however, he had conjured up his demon. It appeared, it attacked him, it turned him into a dead man; he made the world with its apparitions disappear from his with a breath and took him away into the halls of judgment. He stood as though rooted to the ground–he felt as though the judge’s voice had called his name, and again he called out loudly: ‘Here I am!’ 720 ‘Was will man mehr von mir! Hatte Mozart nicht eine Ahnung von mir, als er zum Wenzel (Müller) sagte: “ Wenn man uns Beide zusammenschmilzt, so wär noch kein Haydn daraus!’ Mit dem Namen Mozart aber hatte er seinen Dämon heraufbeschworen. Er erschien, er überfiel ihn, er verwandelte ihn zum Todten; er hauchte ihm die Welt mit ihren Erscheinungen weg und entführte 717 Ibid. 718 “So einen Geist giebt es nicht mehr, wie den Geist der Musik, und er bin ich, mein Freund! Lerne von mir! Ich bin der Meister”; ibid., 398. 719 “...Allem sich freuen ohne Neid”; ibid. 720 Ibid., 399. 325 ihn in die Hallen des Gerichts. Er stand wie angewurzelt - ihm war, als wenn die Stimme des Richters seinen Namen gerufen, und er rief wiederum laut: ‘Hier bin ich!’” Schefer’s satirical ending recasts the entire Mozart-Salieri mythos as a joke. By evoking the name of Gluck, Schefer implied that the Mozart-Salieri rivalry was similar to that of the Gluck-Piccinni rivalry in Paris. In both cases, competition made way for growth and change in music. Fundamentally, it was Salieri’s role as a teacher, a duty he inherited from Gluck with pride, that redeemed the Italian composer for future generations. Whether it was Gluck-Méhul or Gluck-Salieri, these fictional accounts evoke a nostalgic image of the special, cross-generational bond between a teacher and his pupil. In the 19th century, the conservatory system institutionalized and standardized music education, and the high demand for private lessons left some musicians teaching innumerable numbers of students at any given moment. 721 Therefore, the manner in which these French and German writers described the lessons between Gluck and Méhul or Salieri and his students evokes a very simple, sentimental image of the 18th-century music education system. With each private lesson, Gluck had the time and space to move beyond mere didactic lessons in harmony or counterpoint to lessons in aesthetics, philosophy, and whatever else the writer wanted him to teach to future generations. 721 A succinct overview of music education in the 19th century is provided by John Rink, “The Profession of Music,” The Cambridge History of Nineteenth-Century Music, ed. Jim Samson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 82-84. It should be noted that Venice and Naples had well established conservatories in the 18th century, however by the 19th century, these two conservatories were in serious decline (John Rosselli, “Italy: the Centrality of Opera,” in The Early Romantic Era Between Revolutions: 1789 and 1848, ed. Alexander Ringer [Englewood, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1990], 175-76). Rosselli writes that this 18th-century apprenticeship model, for which these writers nostalgically long, was still in existence during the first half of the 19th century in Italy. 326 Gluck against the Italians Prior to when Lyser and his French contemporaries wrote their Gluck-Méhul narratives, the operas of Gluck had a healthy performance history on the French and German stages. Yet with “Rossini fever” and the rise in popularity of the newer French operas by Auber and Meyerbeer throughout Europe, many critics felt as if Germanic aesthetic ideals were under attack and the operas of Gluck and Mozart were disappearing from the stage. 722 Just as Gluck’s French operas caused a revolution on the Paris stage in the 1770s, now Rossini’s Le Siège de Corinthe brought a “veritable revolution” to French opera in the 1820s. 723 Many musicians, music critics, and connoisseurs believed that Berlin was the one place in Europe where the works of Gluck would remain on the 19th-century operatic stage. Yet in 1830, writing to Adolf Fredrik Lindbald in Stockholm, Felix Mendelssohn complains: Shall I tell you more about Berlin? about how now two forces stand at the head of the theaters, of whom one (Count Redern) protects and promotes the base Auber, the other (Spontini) protects and promotes himself alone; about how Gluck has vanished from the stage entirely and how Mozart, too, nearly has...? 724 722 Sanna Pederson, “A. B. Marx, Berlin Concert Life, and German National Identity,” 19th-Century Music 18, no. 2 (Autumn, 1994): 87-107. 723 This is an observation made in a letter from Vicomte Sosthène de la Rouchefoucauld to Charles X, quoted in Anselm Gerhard, Urbanization of Opera: Music Theater in Paris in the Nineteenth Century, trans. Mary Whittall (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992). 68-69. Gerhard argues that Rouchefoucauld’s choice of words was meant to directly link Rossini’s appearance with that of Gluck. Inevitably, his letter proclaimed “the end of the age of Gluck and his followers,” 69. A similar performance history of Gluck’s operas on the Parisian stage can be found in Mark Everist, “Gluck, Berlioz, and Castil-Blaze: The Poetics and Reception of French Opera,” in Reading Critics Reading: Opera and Ballet Criticism in France from the Revolution to 1848, ed. Roger Parker and Mary Ann Smart (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 86-108 724 Felix Mendelssohn, Sämtliche Briefe, vol. 1, 1816 bis Juni 1830, ed. J. Appold and R. Bech (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 2008), 514. Despite Mendelssohn’s complaint, Berlin would ultimately remain the one major 327 Soll ich Dir noch von Berlin erzählen? wie jetzt zwei Gewalten an der Spitze des Theaters stehen, deren Eine (Graf Redern) nur den niederträchtigen Auber, die Andere (Spontini) nur sich selbst beschützt und vordrängt; wie Gluck gänzlich und auch Mozart fast von der Bühne verschwunden ist...? Gluck’s operas did not completely vanish from the Berlin stage, as Mendelssohn states, but in the 1830s there was a decline in the number of performances compared to the 1820s. 725 When Gluck’s Armide returned in 1837, for example, it prompted J. P. Schmidt to respond that, in this new epoch, audiences needed to share their attention between dignified (i.e., Gluck and Mozart) and light (i.e., Auber, Rossini, Meyerbeer) entertainments. 726 In Dresden, performances of Gluck’s works were somewhat sporadic on the stage of the Hofoper. During Lyser’s time in Dresden, Iphigenia auf Tauris was staged in 1829 with soprano Wilhelmine Schröder-Devrient in the lead role. P. O. Spazier claimed, however, that the operas from the “old, learned pedant” Gluck failed to amuse as those of Rossini. 727 Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice (as Orpheus und Eurydice) made a brief appearance on the stage in 1838, but it was under Richard Wagner’s direction and in his adaptation that Gluck’s Armide made it to the stage in 1843, and then Iphigenia in Aulis in 1847. 728 German city where Gluck’s operas held the stage throughout the first half of the 19th century. See also Karl Wörner, “Die Pflege Glucks an der Berliner Oper von 1795-1841,” Zeitschrift für Musikwissenschaft 13 (1930-31): 206-16. 725 Wörner, “Die Pflege Glucks an der Berliner Oper,” 212. 726 J. P. Schmidt, “Die Frage des Erzählenden: ‘Was ist das?’ oder Was ist eigentlich jetzt Berlins Hauptgeschmack?” AmZ 39, no. 23 (June 1837): 379-80. 727 P. O. Spazier, “Berichte. Musikbericht aus Dresden,” BamZ 7, no. 15 (April 1830): 15. 728 For more information about the “Gluck-Renaissance” in Dresden, see Helmut Kirchmeyer, Wagner in Dresden, 709-11. 328 A real low point for Gluck’s operas, however, occurred on the Viennese stages, in the city where Gluck’s reforms began. Though Viennese opera houses frequently performed Gluck’s operas, especially Iphigenia in Tauris, from the 1780s onward, after a performance of Tauris with Agnese Pirscher at the Hofoper in 1837, Gluck’s works completely disappeared from the Hofoper until 1856. By the 1840s writers and musicians began to take notice of the disappearance. For the Wiener Zeitschrift für Kunst, Literatur, Theater und Mode, Ludwig Mielichhofer, using the pseudonym L. Norbert, wrote the story “Gluck’s Grab in Wien” in which an unidentified conductor at the Munich opera house makes a pilgrimage to Vienna to honor the composer at his gravesite. Upon the conductor’s arrival, he finds only a small stone covered in grass. This leads the author to conclude that not only are there poor grave markers and monuments to Beethoven, Mozart, and Schubert, but that it would also be a pleasure to see one of Gluck’s operas on the stage again. 729 With the Viennese fascination for the new Italian and French operas, and the disappearance of the Classical masters from the stage, some felt the city’s taste in music had greatly declined. Albert Lortzing remarked to his friend Heinrich Proch that “Only Italian music dominates… Only tootling and even 729 L. Norbert [Ludwig Mielichhofer], “Gluck’s Grab in Wien,” Wiener Zeitschrift für Kunst, Literatur, Theater und Mode, reprinted in the Frankfurter Konversationsblatt, no. 114 (24 April 1844): 455-56. According to August Schmidt, Mielichhofer’s story was the first to criticize openly the poor condition of Gluck’s grave. The story inspired a fundraising campaign to have a new monument made. It was installed at the cemetery of the Mahleinsdorfer Friedhof in 1846, with a ceremony at the Kriche bei den Paulanern auf der Wieden that included a performance Mozart’s Requiem and chorus from Iphigénie en Tauride with slightly altered text (August Schmidt, “Christoph Ritter von Gluck’s Grabmonument,” Wiener allgemeine Musik-Zeitung 6 no. 85 (16 July 1846): 337-38). 329 more tootling, trilling! And that [is] in a city where Mozart, Beethoven, Gluck and others had lived and worked. …” 730 In the 1830s, the German operatic community lacked a composer who could produce anything that would prevail against the dominance of French and Italian opera on the stage. 731 Therefore critics exhumed Gluck from the dead to combat the philistinism of the operatic world. 732 German writers and critics easily appropriated Gluck as a German composer in order to level attacks against the shallowness of Italian and French opera. Since numerous 18th-century Querelle pamphlets called him a German composer in a battle against an Italian composer (Piccinni), Gluck was the perfect candidate for the position of champion and defender of German aesthetic and dramatic ideals against philistinism. The Querelle of the 18th century, in turn, became analogous to the quarrel pitting German against Italian and French opera of the 19th century. To emphasize the seriousness of this battle, Lyser transforms the pamphlet war into a physical fight at the opening scene of “Gluck in Paris”: 730 “Nur italienische Musik dominiert. … Nur Dudelei und immer wieder Dudelei, Trillerei! Und das in einer Stadt, wo Mozart, Beethoven, Gluck und andere gelebt und gewirkt haben….”; Albert Lortzing’s undated letter to Heinrich Proch, quoted in Michael Jahn, Die Wiener Hofoper von 1836 bis 1848: Die Ära Balochino/Merelli (Vienna: Der Apfel, 2004), 11. Though the letter is undated, it was written around the time Lortzing prepared Zar und Zimmermann for its Vienna debut in 1842. 731 The 1830s are a real low-point for German opera, according to Warrack (German Opera, 338-44). Most composers merely imitated the libretto and music of Carl Maria von Weber’s Der Freischütz (1821), with no real financial success, in German opera houses or abroad. Lyser would remark that German opera sank down (herabsank) after Mozart’s death, in Giacomo Meyerbeer. Sein Streben, sein Wirken und seine Gegner. Für Freunde der Tonkunst von J. P. Lyser (Dresden: Blochmann, 1838), 13. 732 As discussed in the second chapter, Ludwig Rellstab wrote a biography of Gluck for his journal Iris in which he called the Querelle a “little war” between the serious, sublime music or Gluck and the shallow, petty music of Piccinni. Furthermore, he quoted passages from the Querelle and interjected comments about Rossini and Bellini to demonstrate that such a battle against philistinism still persisted into the 19th century (Ludwig Rellstab, “Ueberlick der Erzeugnisse. Gluck,” Iris im Gebiete der Tonkunst 8, no. 36 [1 September 1837]). 330 In the rue St. Honoré, opposite the principal entrance of the Palais Royal, on a clear evening in the autumn of the year 1779, stood two young officers engaged in a zealous dispute. Suddenly one of them sprang backward a few paces, and, after a pause, the swords of both flew from their scabbards, and flashed in the lamp-light as they crossed each other. ‘Mort de ma vie!’ cried another voice, and a powerful stroke forced asunder the weapons of the combatants; “a duel in the open streets, and at night, without seconds? Put up your swords, gentlemen, till to-morrow; then I will second you. My name is St. Val, Captain of Hussars in the Bodyguard.’ ‘St. Val?’ was the exclamation that burst from both the young men, and St. Val, recognizing them, cried laughing – ‘How? Montespan! Arnaut [sic]? Orestes and Pylades fighting? By Jupiter! that is amazing. What may be your quarrel?’ ‘Ah!’ replied the young Arnaut, ‘talk not of quarrels. My friend and I were only settling a small difference of opinion with regard to the composers of Iphigenia in Tauris. My friend gives his voice for Chevalier Gluck; I for the admirable Piccinni;” and therewith the young men prepared to begin the fight anew. 733 St. Val calms the two men and prevails upon them to move their debate to the Café du Feu, where, as was mentioned above, they meet Méhul and then Gluck. In the third section of “Gluck in Paris” the scene shifts to the apartments of Marie Antoinette, who tells her brothers-in-law, the Comte d’Artois and the Comte de Provence, about the Querelle. Artois immediately declares his support for Gluck: ‘I am for Gluck!’ cried D’Artois, ‘for by my faith, Madame, your countryman is a noble fellow! – He was on the chase with me, and made five shots one after the other. As to the Italians, they do not know how to hold a gun.’ 734 733 Lyser, “Gluck in Paris,” 187. The author’s description of the “battle” of the Gluckistes et Piccinnistes may have been a wild exaggeration of Charles Burney’s claim in his General History of Music (London: Robson,1789), 4:211; edited by Frank Mercer, (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Co., 1935, reprint New York; Dover Publications, 1957), 2:973 that no one would answer the door without first asking “Monsieur! estes vous Piccinniste ou Gluckiste?” 734 Ibid., 190. 331 While Artois’s support for Gluck seems superficial, since he bases his approval on hunting skills rather than the music, Lyser creates the impression that Italian composers and their music are weak. His brother Provence, however, declares his sympathies with Piccinni: ‘I like better the music of the Italian, than the German, which can only be recited, but to which one cannot well either sing or dance, as our Noverre very justly observes.’ 735 Whereas the opening scene of “Gluck in Paris” pitted friend against friend, now the Querelle pits family member against family member. Though the brothers do not come to blows, they both reiterate recurring themes of the Querelle and of the later reception of Gluck’s works: that Piccinni’s music is sweet, and Gluck’s is demanding and declamatory. After Artois and Provence declare their allegiances, Lyser stages the following scene as a means of contrasting the artistic differences between the music of the German and Italian composers. Gluck enters to give the Queen her piano lesson, but the piano is locked and it requires the help of Louis XVI to unlock the keyboard. The Queen then loses patience and no longer wants to play. Instead, members of the court request that Gluck perform something from his Iphigénie: The master of sixty-five seated himself at the instrument and began the frenzy scene of Orestes. All were silent and attentive, particularly Louis XVI, who when the piece was ended, went up to Gluck, and said, with downcast eyes, in broken sentences – ‘Excellent, chevalier – most excellent! I am charmed – delighted; ...I will have your opera produced 735 Ibid. 332 first – with all care – with all splendor – just as you please! and I hope the success will be such as to gratify you.’ 736 After Gluck’s performance, Piccinni and Noverre enter to perform a selection from the Italian’s version of Iphigénie en Tauride: Piccinni bowed and replied – ‘The Chevalier Noverre wished that your Majesty would permit me to play before you the Scythian dance, number one.’… ‘You have my ready permission,’ said Antoinette. Piccinni seated himself at the piano, and began to play his Scythian dance, to which the Comte of Provence and Noverre kept time. The others confessed that Piccinni’s dance was far more pleasing, melodious, and adapted to the grace of motion, than that of Gluck. But D’Artois whispered to the king, that he thought the dance, considered by itself, admirable; but beyond dispute, better fitted for a masked ball, in the salon of the grand opera, than for a private abode in Tauris. Louis did not reply; Gluck stood listening earnestly and attentively; his sense of the merit of his opponent was visible in his countenance, except that now and then a light curl played about his mouth, when Piccinni indulged too much in his pretty quavering and tinkling. Noverre responded with a twitch of his foot, by a natural impulse, to the music. Great applause rewarded Piccinni when he ceased; and Noverre neglected not to explain, with an air of great importance, that in the music they had just heard, was displayed that inspiriting rhythmus, which along had power to charm the dancer’s feet, so that he could give soul and expression to his pirouettes and entrechats. 737 The contrast between the music of the German and that of the Italian is clear. Gluck, on the one hand, performs an entire scene from his opera; moreover, he decides to perform a scene that depicts Orestes’ madness and the infernal spirits’ condemnation to a group of aristocrats. Gluck’s music captures the attention of the royal audience, and humbles the 736 Ibid. 737 Ibid., 198. 333 King, who responds to Gluck with “downcast eyes.” Piccinni, on the other hand, provides his royal patrons with a pleasant piece fit for the salon, which could be performed without the dramatic context for which it was intended. When Noverre delivers his explanation of the work, it gives the reader the sense that Piccinni fashioned the music to meet the dancer’s demands, as the music gives “soul” to the dancer’s steps, rather than characterizing the scene and fulfilling the requirements of the plot. Lyser and Adam appropriate dancers––Noverre and Vestris, respectively––to contrast what they believe to be the Germanic manner of operatic composition with the Italian and French. In the Italianate and French manners, the work of art is fashioned so as to fit the performers’ demands, which ultimately fractures the unity of the music and drama. In the Germanic manner, all aspects of the opera must be unified under a single dramatic purpose, even if it means ignoring a performer’s wishes and composing difficult music for the sake of characterization and plot. 738 The contrasts between the music of Gluck and that of Piccinni, in these fictional tales, stand as a summation of previous writings about Gluck’s operas before and during the Biedermeier period. In general, critics thought of Gluck’s operas as representing the first manifestation of organic unity of music and drama. This is in dialectical opposition to the broken, inorganic nature of Italian opera. Hoffmann writes in the Leipzig-based Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung : 738 It should be noted that these two dancers were instrumental in ballet reform in the late 18th century, and desired, like Gluck, to adhere to a certain dramatic truth in ballet. Noverre outlined many of theories in his Lettres sur la danse et sur les ballets (Stuttgart, 1760). Daniel Heartz provides a concise overview of Noverre’s writings and career in Music in European Capitals: The Galant Style 1720-1780 (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2003), 485-94. 334 But the tragic gravity and profound significance investing Gluck’s melodies will not permit a single flourish to creep in, if it is there merely as a passing titillation of the ear, without relation to the whole. Those who enjoyed only the latter in Italian music, therefore, could not but find Gluck’s compositions graceless, dry, and unmelodious. 739 Moreover, in an anonymous review of Iphigénie en Tauride for the AmZ in 1822, the writer claims that listeners leave the opera with an impression of the whole, and, unlike in Rossinian opera, there is “no melody for the hurdy-gurdy, nor a favorite piece for the next music circle.” 740 Commenting on a performance of Gluck’s Iphigenia in Tauris in Amsterdam’s German theater, the reviewer remarks that the opera was well received by the connoisseurs (Kenner), but did not appeal to the Nichtkenner, who had been spoiled by Rossini’s “kling-klang” music. 741 These examples illuminate a recurring theme in the reception of Gluck’s works among German critics, in which his works represent the antithesis to the sensual melodies of the popular Italian operas taking over the stage in the 1820s and 30s. In his fictionalization of the composer’s time in Paris, Marx also contrasted Gluck’s adherence to music and dramatic unity with the frivolous operas by 19th-century Italian and French composers. In particular, Marx singles out Rossini and Meyerbeer. In “Lost Loves, or German Composers in Paris,” printed in his own Berliner allgemeine 739 Hoffmann, “Further Observations on Spontini’s Opera Olimpia,” in E. T. A. Hoffmann’s Musical Writings, 439. This review was originally published in the AmZ in 1820, but later republished in Cäcilia, 1825, issue 9. 740 “...keine Melodie zu Nachleyern, kein Favoritstück fürs nächste Musikkränzchen”; F. L. B., “Brief- Fragmente von F. L. B.” AmZ 24, no. 10 (March 1822): 168. 741 “Glucks Iphigenia in Tauris wurde Einigemal gegeben, dies zwar schon ziemlich alte, hier aber neue Oper wurde von den Kennern mit Beifall aufgenommen; die durch den Rossini’schen Klingklang verwöhnten Nichtkenner aber wollte diese Musik freylich nicht recht ansprechen”; Anonymous, “Nachrichten: Amsterdam. Ende April 1821,” AmZ 23, no. 23 (June 1821): 409. 335 musikalische Zeitung in 1827, the narrator attends a performance of the new opera from Paris, Ferdinand Hérold’s Marie, and falls asleep. He first witnesses a debate between a younger and older man, discussing Iphigénie en Aulide. When the elderly man accuses Gluck of being the Queen’s favorite, the young man replies that: Monseigneur will forgive me if I have the honor to assure him that Monsieur Gluck is far from being a valet. He consorts with the most distinguished persons, as if he knew better and they have nothing to say. He doesn’t worry about anything. Even at rehearsal the day before yesterday, Vestris comes with order that at Iphigenia’s triumphal procession the king wishes to see a divertissement arranged by Vestris. And Gluck refuses! [The older man responds:] ‘But would he be so rash as to forget the public’s preference, the succès of his own opera?’ 742 The scene changes, and the narrator now stands in a dimly lit theater with Gluck berating a female singer: ‘Away with these outbursts of emotion, Madonna! They have nothing to do with this. What, by all the gods – is Clytemnestra a love-sick Italian girl? Don’t speak to me of applause!... Now I beg you, my dear, understand the crashes and groans in my orchestra.’ 743 Gluck continues his discourse, until he is interrupted by a summons from the Queen, and therefore is not present for the next conversation between “two theatre impresarios,... about a coup to fill their cash boxes.” Here Marx makes his attack on the new French/Italian operatic practices through the mouths of the impresarios: 742 A. B. Marx, “Verlorene Liebe, oder die deutschen Komponisten in Paris,” BamZ 4 (1827), 373-375, translated in The Attentive Listener: Three Centuries of Music Criticism, ed. Harry Haskell (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996), 85-91. 743 Ibid., 88. Marx was likely inspired by Mannlich’s observations of the rehearsals of Iphigénie en Aulide, in which his “Germanic frankness” often collided with the French (Nettl, The Book of Musical Documents, 93). Mannlich continues to recount how Gluck refused to give in to the demands of the first Iphigénie, Sophie Arnould, by not writing a new aria for her (97). 336 ‘He [Rossini] hasn’t been crowing any longer since the Siege of Corinth [1826]. His Guillaume Tell isn’t ready, though arrangements are being made for him to take up Meyerbeer’s Ranz de vaches. It’s not pulling them in any more and the singers are making a killing. The little German [Meyerbeer] wants to roll in gold too – here comes the young composer! Now, Monsieur, is the third act not ready yet? You’ve been promised the honor of a performance for four weeks now. Mademoiselle Cuiccidora doesn’t disdain to undertake a role of yours – indeed, she wants to insert her favorite concert aria with a Turkish chorus. And you keep her waiting?’ 744 Marx sets up an immediate contrast through his fictional narrative to distinguish the demands of the uncompromising German Gluck with the “crowing” Rossini and the compromising Meyerbeer. Whereas Gluck refuses to make changes, even as the King wishes it, Meyerbeer is all too willing to change his opera for the singers. 745 As the narration ends, the impresario demands that Meyerbeer insert more ballets into this opera and the soprano Cuiccidora wants more chromatic runs, a new theme, and to start on B because that is her best note. 746 To escape this nightmare, the narrator wakes up. Not all writers perceived Gluck and Rossini to be polar opposites. In 1842, the Magazin für die Literatur des Auslandes translated and printed an anecdote from La Gazette musicale in which Gluck visits physiognomist Johann Kaspar Lavater, and 744 Ibid., 89. The reason for Gluck’s absence is not that he is with the Queen, but that he has been in the grave for thirty-nine years. With that said, Marx’s use of fiction here is to blend the time periods together in an Hoffmanesque manner, and show the continued presence of Gluck’s works on the stage in defiance to Rossini and Meyerbeer. 745 Wagner echoes this sentiment when discussing Gluck in Oper und Drama, claiming that Gluck’s reform was “the musical composer [revolting] against the willfulness of the singer.” Richard Wagner, Opera and Drama, trans. by William Ashton Ellis in Richard Wagner’s Prose Works, vol. 2 (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner & Co., Ltd., 1892-9; reprint, Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1995), 26. 746 Though not directly stated in this narrative, it was common practice by the Berlin Hofoper and Nationaltheater to replace Gluck’s original ballets with newer ones––a practice Marx alludes to in other writings for the BamZ (see the first chapter of this dissertation). 337 Rossini meets the phrenologists Franz Joseph Gall. 747 The question presented in the article is whether or not physiognomy and phrenology are real sciences, and these two encounters are meant to answer this question. Within the first meeting, Gluck had the opportunity to visit the physiognomist Lavater in Zurich. Gluck does not provide Lavater his name, but asks him to guess instead. Lavater responds: ‘You are a musician... . ‘That is true’ answered the artist, ‘but that is too vague, an imprecise description. Could you not specify the area of music to which I have dedicated myself in particular?’” From this new question, Lavater was silent for a few moments and appeared to be deeply lost in thought, then suddenly he answered: ‘That’s it,’ he said, ‘you are a composer–yes, a dramatic composer... . The characteristics that distinguish you are vivaciousness, energy, boldness, sublime feeling, grand ideas... and you see,’ he continued, ... ‘I would bet anything that you have composed this score.’ Gluck looked at the work and recognized it as one of his operas, known under the title The Fall of the Giants [La caduta de‘ Giganti], which shortly before had enjoyed enormous success throughout Germany. ... ‘That is not all,’ continued Lavater whose face was shining with excitement and whose voice became more solemn by the second, ‘That is not all... you have been called to a great, splendid destiny... You will leave behind a illustrious name and immortal memories on the path you are treading... You will become the founder of a great school, for you posses immense creativity and, what is more, the ardent zeal for fighting on the battlefield of honor that produces famous men and ensures victory.‘ Three years later, Gluck was in France, where he had his Iphigenia in Aulis performed, that masterpiece, which constitutes the basis of the newer forms of lyrical drama; at this occasion the musical world in those days split into two parties and Gluck’s name, which throughout this dispute continued to win more and more [fame], became famous and was honored in the whole 747 “Frankreich: Physiognomik und Schädellehre auf die Musik angewandt,” Magazin für die Literatur des Auslandes 21, no. 149 (14 December 1842), 595. I have not located the original French version of the anecdote. The anecdote was also published, in translation, in Der Sammler: Ein Blatt zur Unterhaltugn und Belehrung 11, no. 52 (1842), 207, Euterpre. Ein musikalisches Monatsblatt für Deutschlandes Volksschullehrer, 3, no. 10 (October, 1843): 187-79, and Nürnberger Blätter für Theater, Kunst, Mode und geselliges Leben 2, no. 99 (12 September 1844), n. p. 338 world.– In this way, Lavater’s predictions were fulfilled about the great German composer with the greatest precision. 748 ‘Sie sind Musiker.... ‘Das ist wahr,‘ erwiederte der Künstler, ‘allein das ist noch eine zu vage, ungenaue Bezeichnung. Könnten sie nicht den Theil der Musik angeben, dem ich mich insbesondere gewidmet habe?‘ Auf diese neue Frage schwieg Lavater einige Augenblicke und schien in ein tiefes Nachdenken versunken zu sein, dann antwortete er plötzlich: ‘So ist es,’ sagte er, ‘Sie sind Komponist – ja, dramatischer Komponist... . Die Eigenschaften, wodurch Sie sich auszeichnen, sind Lebhaftigkeit, Energie, Kühnheit, erhabene Gefühle, große Ideen.... und sehen Sie,’ fuhr er fort,... ‘ich würde eine Wette darauf eingehen, daß Sie diese Partitur komponirt haben.’ Gluck betrachtete das Werk und erkannte darin eine seiner Opern, bekannt unter dem Titel: “Der Fall der Riesen,” der kurz vorher einen ungeheuren Erfolg in ganz Deutschland erlangt hatte.... ‘Das ist nicht Alles,’ fuhr Lavater fort, dessen Stirn von Begeisterung erglänzte und dessen Stimme mit jedem Augenblicke einen feierlicheren Ton annahm, ‘das ist nicht Alles.... Sie sind zu großer, glänzender Bestimmung berufen.... Sie werden einen lichtvollen Namen und unsterbliche Erinnerungen auf der von Ihnen betretenen Bahn hinterlassen.... Sie werden der Gründer einer großen Schule werden, denn Sie besitzen eine unermeßliche Schöpferkraft und, was noch mehr ist, jenen Feuereifer für den Kampf auf dem Felde der Ehre, der die berühmten Männer erzeugt und den Sieg sichert.’ Drei Jahre darauf war Gluck in Frankreich, wo er seine “Iphigenia in Aulis”, jenes Meisterwerk, das die Grundlage zu den neuern Formen des lyrischen Drama’s bildete, aufführen ließ, bei dieser Gelegenheit theilt sich die damalige musikalische Welt in zwei Parteien, und der Name Glucks, der bei dem Streite nur immer mehr gewann, ward in aller Welt berühmt und geehrt. – Auf diese Weise waren die Vorhersagungen Lavater’s über den berühmten Deutschen Komponisten aufs genaueste in Erfüllung gegangen.” 748 Ibid. The multiple ellipses within this text appear in the translation and transcription found in the journal Euterpre, on which I based my translation. Why this text cites La caduta de‘ Giganti as a popular opera in Germany is very bizarre. So far in my research, I have found little evidence that this work was ever performed on a German stage. The mention of the opera, I believe, only serves as a plot device: Lavater is able to associate Gluck with one of his most obscure works. Burney does mention the opera in his A General History of Music (4: 453), which circulated widely on the continent. 339 After demonstrating the accuracy of Lavater’s foresight, the writer describes Gall’s visit to Milan. During his stay, he met and examined a young man at a party and wrote the following in his notebook: “Radiant eyes – A subtle, intelligent smile – a domed, projecting forehead – Enthusiasm – Creative genius – Energy – Grace – Prolificacy – Suppleness.” The name of this young musician under discussion was Rossini, a name that was entirely unknown at that time; and yet, is it possible to give a more perfect list of the different traits, which have since then characterized in so splendid a fashion the products of this great composer? 749 “Ein glänzendes Auge. – Ein feines verständiges Lächeln.– Eine gewölbte, hervorragende Stirn.– Begeisterung.– Schöpferisches Genie.– Energie.– Anmuth.– Fruchtbarkeit.– Geschmeidigkeit.“ Rossini war der Name des jungen in Rede stehenden Musikers, ein Name, der zu jener Zeit noch völlig unbekannt war; und, doch, ist es wohl möglich, eine vollkommener Aufzählung der verschiedenen Eigenschaften zu liefern, durch welche seitdem die Productionen des großen Komponisten sich so glänzen ausgezeichnet haben?– What this narrative hints at is that the career path of Gluck and Rossini ran in parallel courses. Both composers transformed Italian opera, and later caused an upheaval in the Parisian operatic world. Gluck’s long and fruitful career composing Italian and French operas was a paradox for many critics. When the topic of Gluck’s Viennese Italian operas comes up in Marx’s biography, he simply states, “Wien ist Italien in Deutschland.” 750 That is, the composer had to compose in Italian to please his Viennese patrons. Other writers point 749 Ibid. 750 Marx, Gluck und die Oper, 157. 340 out eyewitness accounts of Gluck’s demanding nature and harsh treatment of Italian and French singers. 751 Reichardt reiterated an anecdote of the composer’s studies in Italy: The first rehearsal of Gluck’s opera [Artaserse] was held in the theater, and it drew a crowd, curious and impatient to judge the first attempt of a new composer. The ears of the audience were not accustomed to this style of music, and they mocked the young composer, making him the butt of their comments. 752 Gluck then composed “a new, pleasing aria.” At the performance, however, “the aria which differed so greatly from all the others was found to be insipid, and so inconsistent with the rest, that the cry went up that it spoilt the opera. Now Gluck had his revenge and confirmed the over-hasty public in their belief that the aria was truly by Sammartini.” 753 Furthermore, Ludwig Rellstab stated that the Italians inserted new arias into Orfeo, because they wanted to “diminish [the composer’s] standing,” since the Italians found the opera to be unpleasant in its original form. 754 To justify Gluck’s Italian oeuvre, some 19th-century critics and writers recast the composer as a saboteur of conventional Italian operatic practices. In 1837, the writer Heinrich Smidt published “Der deutsche Meister” in the Berliner Figaro and then later in a collection of his short stories, Hamburger Bilder. Smidt, who spent most of his life in Hamburg and then Berlin, focused his narrative upon Gluck’s brief tenure with Pietro 751 Charles Burney, A General History of Music (London, 1786-9), ed. Frank Mercer (London: 1935, reprint New York, 1969), 2:876, cited in Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 58. See, for example, Mannlich’s account of Gluck conducting Iphigénie en Aulide in Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth- Century Portrait, 109. 752 Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 11. 753 Ibid. 754 Ludwig Rellstab, “Ueberlick der Erzeugnisse. Gluck,” 162. I discuss in greater detail the practice of inserting new arias into Orfeo in the first chapter. 341 Mingotti’s troupe in Hamburg. 755 The narrative opens on Mignotti, sitting in the theatre, worried about the upcoming performance of the opera buffa “der betrogene Apotheker,” with a libretto by the made-up Italian poet Maltoni and music by Gluck. 756 When suddenly the door flies open, and a woman enters balancing a frisure that is a “high tower of powder and pomade” and whose wrinkled face is covered by beauty spots and makeup. The singer Theresina Turkatti announces, with a husky voice like that of a lion, that she “will not sing the new opera”. 757 Her voice, she states, will always be husky “as long as this Maestro, this German bear remains with the troupe and tramples the premier Italian [singers] under foot.” 758 Mingotti sinks into a chair, buries his head into his hands, when all of a sudden, the primo amoroso Adolfi, wearing a light-blue, silver-embroidered coat, enters and announces “ich singe nicht.” Like Turkatti, Adolfi will not sing until “the German bear with his fiddle” is removed from the troupe. 759 From nowhere, a man with unpowdered, smooth-combed hair and wearing a cinnamon-colored overcoat: “‘I thought as much!,’ spoke the stranger with a deep bass [voice], ‘that the director stands and blubbers and lets himself be dragged by the nose by the Italian mosquitos.’” 760 This strange character turns out to be the bassist Christoph Hanns von 755 Heinrich Smidt, “Der deutsche Meister,” in Hamburger Bilder: Wirklichkeit im romantischen Gewande (Hamburg: Hoffmann und Campe, 1837). The recent biography by Gerhard and Renate Croll (Gluck. Sein Leben. Seine Musik [Kassel: Bärenreiter, 2010], 54-60) provides a succinct and thorough account of the composer’s time in Hamburg and Northern Germany. 756 This might be an allusion to Goldoni’s librettos Il signor dottore or Lo speziale. 757 Ibid., 132. 758 “so lange dieser Mästro, dieser deutsche Bär bei der Gesellschaft bleibt und die ersten Talente Italiens mit Füßen treten darf”; ibid. 759 Ibid., 132-33. 760 “‘Dachte ich’s doch!” sprach der Fremde mit tiefem Baß, “da steht der Direktor und flennt und läßt sich die Italienischen Mücken da auf der Nase herumhüpfen!’”; ibid., 135. 342 Hager from the Hamburg Italian opera company, who is Gluck’s “friend and compatriot.” 761 Gluck then enters with a “calm and quiet grandeur” and states: “When I took up employment with you [Mingotti], I believed I could be of use to art, I wanted to build a sanctuary from which it could not be expelled by cabals, malice, and envy; I erred. It is here as it is everywhere, my German fatherland is not yet ready for true art, its time will come later. My mind is set for France.” 762 “Als ich mich bei dir engagirte, glaubte ich der Kunst zu nützen, ich wollte ihr ein Asyl bauen, aus welchen sie keine Kabale, keine Bosheit, kein Neid vertreiben sollte; ich habe mich geirrt. Es ist hier wie überall, mein deutsches Vaterland ist noch nicht reif für wahre Kunst, seine Zeit kommt später. Mein Sinne steht nach Frankreich.” With this pronouncement, Gluck has his compatriot Hagar retrieve policemen from the Gänsemarktwache to arrest the Italian singers. The company is now left with the young Marie Masi, Gluck’s student, and the castrato Antonio Kasati, who escaped from debtors in Berlin. 763 The opera house is filled to capacity as audience members wish to hear their favorite singers, Turkatti and Adolfi. When the castrato appears, the crowd listens for a moment, and then voice its displeasure. The castrato becomes enraged, and jumps all around like a marionette until he falls down in exhaustion. The stagehands carry him out, as the crowd cries out in laughter. Afterwards, Marie appears on stage. Gluck tries to calm the crowd, asking them to listen to Marie sing at least one aria: “Marie forcibly composed herself, she sang, at first softly, with a trembling voice, but finally stronger and forcefully, soon the victory 761 Ibid., 136. 762 Ibid., 137. 763 Ibid., 142-43. 343 was certainly hers, then an orange flew from the parterre and struck her temple, startled, she cried out [and] could not find the key again... .” 764 Dejected, Marie runs from the stage, out of the theater, and into the rain. Gluck goes home and sits at the piano, calling out “Marie! ... Marie! Where are you?” 765 The door opens and Marie returns, exhausted and chilled. Mingotti, Turkatti, and Adolfi, having been released from prison, also arrive to express their frustrations to “the German Master” only to find him comforting the lifeless body of the young singer in his arms. 766 In Smidt’s image of 18th-century opera culture, Gluck had to compose Italian opera and then work in France because Germany did not have the infrastructure and money to support German opera in the 18th century. 767 With this fascination for Italian opera, according to Smidt, these “Italian mosquitos” held Germans captive, and dilettantes, who were enraptured by Italian singers, drove young, native talent off the stage. Gluck tried to foster young talent by working through the Italian system; unfortunately, his attempts were left unrealized. Stephen Meyer observes that in 19th-century critical discourse, writers often employed the “military metaphor” to describe the situation of opera on the German stage. Weber’s Der Freischütz, for example, “is not an opera; it is a weapon aimed against the 764 “Marie faßte sich gewaltsam, sie sang, anfangs leise, mit zitternder Stimme, aber endlich stärker und kräftiger, schon war ihr der Sieg gewiß, da flog eine Apfelsine aus dem Parterre und streits ihre Schläfe, erschreckt schrie sie auf, sie konnte die Tonart nicht wieder finden... ”; ibid., 147. 765 Ibid. 766 Whether this ending was an allusion to Gluck’s own niece Marianna’s death is unknown. 767 Smidt’s history of Italian opera in the German-speaking realm of the 18th century is very simple, and the popularity or unpopularity with Italian opera varied from region to region and city to city. For a succinct history of Italian and German opera in Hamburg, see George J. Buelow, “Hamburg and Lübeck,” in The Late Baroque Era from the 1680s to 1740, ed. George J. Buelow (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice Hall, 1993), 194-99. 344 foreign” of Italian and French composers. 768 Applying this metaphor to Gluck’s role in the Querelle, the composer took the fight to foreign soil when he went to Paris to revolutionize French opera. In the case of Italian opera, he sabotaged the genre to undermine its popularity and the eccentricities of its singers. According to these fictional accounts, Gluck not only defeated an Italian composer, brought singers into submission, and improved foreign opera, but also added a German quality to their music. Conclusion – Nostalgia Whereas some of these narratives surrounding the Querelle are representations of the ongoing struggle against the prevailing taste for the newer Italian and French opera and growing philistinism in the artistic world, Lyser’s tale ends with a nostalgic image in which all sides of the Querelle come to an agreement. Lyser’s Piccinni realizes the faults of his Iphigénie after listening to the rehearsals of Gluck’s Iphigénie en Tauride. Additionally, he finds out that Hegrin falsified information about Gluck’s role in the Querelle in order to exact personal revenge against the composer. Piccinni declares to Hegrin that his Iphigénie is only “A human work, which will soon vanish without a trace–while Gluck’s Iphigénie will endure so long as feeling for the grand and the beautiful is not dead in the hearts of men.” 769 Elias Hegrin then reveals that: I spoke falsely... . When I was a boy, I heard it daily repeated by my parents and family, that I had extraordinary talent for music; that I should become a great composer, and one day acquire both wealth and reputation... . I went to Vienna; but gained neither.’ [Piccinni responds,] ‘I know it; but there Gluck took you by the hand, supported you, gave you instruction, corrected your works.’ [Elias:] ‘He did so 768 Meyer, Carl Maria von Weber and the Search for German Opera, 111. 769 Lyser, “Gluck in Paris,” 198. 345 indeed; but he likewise told me I had no genius, and that I never could be a great composer.’ 770 After admitting his desire to have revenge on Gluck for his words, Piccinni dismisses Hegrin, shouting: ‘Go, we have nothing more in common. The divinity of man is honor; your gods are selfishness–vanity–envy–cowardly malice! Such as you deserve no sympathy–away!’ Piccinni’s opera was greatly admired, but that of his adversary obtained a complete victory, and awakened an enthusiasm till then unknown even in Paris. 771 This scene in Piccinni’s apartment exposes the problem of money and fame corrupting the artist and his work. In the case of Hegrin, music was only a tool to obtain wealth and prestige, and, as a result, he could neither grasp the true essence of the art form nor produce anything of real substance. These Hegrins, according to Lyser, infest the Italian and French opera industry, and their desire for material wealth ultimately contaminates the composer and his work of art. Yet, for Lyser, there is some degree of redemption for Italian and French opera. When confronted with a work of true artistic and dramatic merit, as when Piccinni listens to Gluck’s Iphigénie en Tauride, the Italian/French composer is able to recognize and laud the complexities and genius inherent to the work. To close “Gluck in Paris,” Lyser shifts to Gluck’s house, where the old composer, along with Méhul, enters to find Piccinni waiting for them: ‘Signor Piccinni!’ cried Gluck, surprised. ‘Not unwelcomed, I hope?’ said Piccinni, smiling. ‘Most welcome, by my troth!’ answered Gluck, taking and cordially shaking the 770 Ibid., 199. 771 Ibid., 200. 346 offered hand. ‘Yes, I honor so noble an adversary.’ ‘Talk no more of adversaries!’ cried Piccinni earnestly; ‘our strife is at an end; I acknowledge you for my master, and will be happy and proud to call you my friend! Let the Gluckistes and Piccinnistes dispute as long as they like; Gluck and Piccinni understand each other!’ ‘And esteem each other!’ exclaimed Gluck with vivacity; ‘Indeed, Piccinni, it shall be so!’ 772 In the final scene, the Italian Piccinni himself, rather than the critics and rivaling factions, comes to the realization that his work is inferior to that of the German Gluck. Therefore, he submits himself to this superior artist. 773 At the same time, Gluck esteems and respects Piccinni; and as in Adam’s narrative, the noble brotherhood of musicians prevails against the attacks of dilettantes and rival parties. Lyser recreates an ideal world in which composers can look past national borders and styles in order to judge the inherent merit and worth of a dramatic work of art. This ability to draw from different national schools of composition and judge a work on its inherent qualities was a trait Lyser admired in the works of Meyerbeer. Moreover, it was through this ability that Meyerbeer was able to open France’s opera and concert houses to the great Germanic composers, even more so than in the case of Gluck. Two years after he published “Gluck in Paris,” Lyser published a pamphlet, Giacomo Meyerbeer: Sein Streben, sein Wirken und seine Gegner, in which he directly compares Meyerbeer’s work in France with that of Gluck: In this regard he worked more, and with more lasting effect for German art in France, than Gluck, whom the French – not 772 Ibid. 773 Lyser’s scene here may also allude to Piccinni’s letter praising Gluck upon his death and stating his desire to conduct an annual memorial concert in Paris; the letter is given in the original French with commentary by Emanuel Winternitz, in “A Homage of Piccinni to Gluck,” in Studies in 18th-Century Music: A Tribute to Karl Geiringer on his 70th Birthday, ed. H. C. Robbins Landon (New York: Oxford University Press, 1970), 397-400. 347 without reason – claim for themselves as a classical-French composer. Consequently, Gluck obtained recognition only for himself, and irrespective of his greatness, not entirely without the help of the court party, since Marie Antoinette protected him. The interest in his competition with Piccinni came into it too. It was Meyerbeer, on the other hand, who inaugurated the appreciation of this nation [for] Weber’s, Mozart’s and partly Beethoven’s [works], after he had obtained for himself – solely through his genius – the French nation’s recognition and admiration. 774 Er hat in dieser Hinsicht mehr, und für deutsche Kunst in Frankreich nachhaltiger gewirkt als Gluck, welchen die Franzosen – nicht mit Unrecht – als einen classische- französischen Componisten für sich in Anspruch nehmen. Gluck verschaffte sonach nur sich Anerkennung, und, abgesehen von seiner Größe, nicht ganz ohne Hülfe der Hofpartei, da Maria Antoinette ihn beschützte. Auch kam noch das Interesse an seinem Wettstreit mit Piccinni hinzu. Meyerbeer dagegen war es, der, nachdem er sich selbst – einzig durch sein Genie – bei der französischen Nation Anerkennung und Bewunderung verschafft hatte, dieser Nation das Verständniß Weber’s, Mozart’s und theilweis selbst Beethoven’s eröffnete. Lyser proceeds to address Meyerbeer’s enemies, who claim that he forgot the German school of composition, and happily follows the “Geschmack des Auslandes,” by pointing out that: …neither Gluck nor Mozart followed the old German routine, which before them was usual in Germany; rather, they studied the best old Italian and French masters, used what they had acquired and, thus equipped, broke new paths for themselves, whereupon, they stormed toward immortality. 775 ...denn weder Gluck noch Mozart folgten dem alten deutschen Schlendrian, der vor ihnen in Deutschland gäng 774 Johann Peter Burmeister-Lyser, Giacomo Meyerbeer. Sein Streben, sein Wirken und seine Gegner. Für Freunde der Tonkust von J. P. Lyser (Dresden: Blochmann, 1838), 9. See also Heinz Becker’s remarks in “Giacomo Meyerbeer: On the Occasion of the Centenary of his Death,” Leo Baeck Institute Yearbook 9, no. 1 (1964): 183. 775 Ibid., 12-13. 348 und gäbe; sondern studirten die bessern ältern Meisters Italiens und Frankreichs, benutzten das Erworbenen und brachen, so ausgerüstet, sich neue Bahnen, worauf sie der Unsterblichkeit zu stürmten. For Lyser, it did not matter where Meyerbeer obtained the materials he needed to create his operas; it was a question of how he used those materials when he received them. In many ways Lyser is pointing out the inherent contradiction of many of his contemporaries’ attacks against Meyerbeer’s fluid identity and cosmopolitanism, in that their appropriation and transformation of Gluck’s biography reveal the same inherent cosmopolitanism of his career and musical style. 776 In “Gluck in Paris,” Lyser transports this debate of Italian/French versus German music back to a nostalgic view of the 18th century, when, in his view, critics embraced and idealized cosmopolitanism. Though his views would place him in opposition to the hardline members of 19th-century German artistic and political movements, Lyser could find solace in an idealized past when composers and nations learned from each other, and worked in harmony to improve the situation of opera. Lyser’s characterization of the 18th century in his novella represents, in general, the nostalgic qualities inherent to the Künstlernovelle on the whole. In The Future of Nostalgia, Svetlana Boym notes that nostalgia was at first a diagnosable disease, 776 There is still the underlying issue of the anti-Semitism in the criticism of Meyerbeer by German and French writers. This is a complex issue that falls outside the scope of this essay. Suffice it to say that Meyerbeer’s most adamant critic, Wagner, saw the composer’s “cosmopolitanism and universalism” as Jewish qualities that corrupted music and drama. See Marc A. Weiner, Richard Wagner and the Anti- Semitic Imagination (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1995), 52-53. Roger Parker also discusses this issue in “The Opera Industry,” in The Cambridge History of Nineteenth-Century Music, ed. Jim Samson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 108-9. 349 identified by the Swiss doctor Johannes Hofer in the 17th century. 777 By the 19th century nostalgia became a historical emotion as the growing mass market turned “the salon culture of educated urban dwellers and landowners into a ritual commemoration of lost youth, lost springs, lost dances.” 778 Writers of the late 19th century continued in Lyser’s manner of recasting the 18th century in overly simplistic terms to contrast it with the industrial and militaristic world they experienced around them. Gluck and his music still made appearances in these artistic and historical fictions. In his collection of short stories entitled Historische Novellen, Adolf Stern’s second novella, Gluck in Versailles, revolves around innocent intrigues, as Gluck helps the young composer and organist Claude Montigny (possibly an allusion to Pierre-Alexandre Monsigny) win the girl of his dreams, Madeleine de la Ponette, and the position of organist at the Saint-Germain church in Paris. The reviewer Rudolf Gottschall characterized the entire novella as belonging to the “below stairs” genre in which life at Versailles follows that of the servants, with only brief appearances by members of the royal family. 779 Stern cast Gluck as a saving father figure who helped the young Montigny and his bride escape the confines and conspiracies of Versailles. Stern promotes the iconoclastic image of Gluck, in that the composer liberated and assisted a fellow musician instead of kowtowing to the French aristocracy. 780 As in Lyser’s tale, it 777 Svetlana Boym, The Future of Nostalgia (New York: Basic Books, 2001), 3. 778 Ibid., 16. 779 “Neue Novellen,” Blätter für literarische Unterhaltung 1, no. 17 (April 1866), 265. 780 Michael Perraudin discusses the issue of 18th-century musicians both detesting and relying on the whims of their aristocratic patrons in Mörike’s Mozart auf der Reise nach Prag, in Literature, the Volk and the Revolution in Mid-Nineteenth Century Germany (New York: Berghahn Book, 2000), 186. 350 is the nostalgic image of Gluck and the 18th century that prevails in Stern’s novella, in which great composers were only answerable to the fraternal order of musicians. A year later, Louisa Mühlbach (pen name of Clara Mundt) used the music from Gluck’s Alceste to evoke a nostalgic reaction from the character Queen Marie Antoinette in her historical novel Marie Antoinette und ihr Sohn (1867). 781 His music appears in the novel twice––once before and once after the outbreak of the Revolution. At these two moments, the Queen’s reaction to his music changes as she grows from an innocent Queen to a stoic one. The novel begins in the year 1785 with the Queen escorting her second son, Louis Charles, through the streets of Paris. Though the Parisians greet the Queen with shouts of welcome, secretly they claim she has created her own secret police and hosts orgies at the Petit Trianon palace. When Mühlbach takes the reader to Trianon, she states that Marie Antoinette is “happy as a young girl who knows nothing of the cares and burdens of life.” 782 It is here that she speaks German in the Austrian dialect, banishes all aristocratic titles, and wants to be treated as an equal. When she enters her home, the Count de Vaudreuil stops playing the piano, and the following scene ensues: ‘What have you been playing, count?’ asked Marie Antoinette . ‘I beg your pardon, if I leave your question unanswered,’ replied the count... . ‘Your majesty has such a fine ear, that you must doubtless recognize the composer in the music. It is an entirely new composition, and I have taken the license of arranging it for four hands. If your majesty would perhaps be inclined–’ ‘Come,’ interrupted the queen, ‘let us try it at once.’ Quickly, and with feverish impatience, she... took her place next to the count, on the seat already prepared for her. ‘Will not the music 781 Mühlbach’s novel belongs to a long history of narratives and musical works that sentimentalize the late Queen of France. Perhaps one of the best known works is Jan Ladislav Dusík’s characteristic piano piece, La Mort de Marie Antoinette. 782 Louise Mühlbach, Marie Antoinette und ihr Sohn, vol. 1 (Jena: Hermann Costenoble, 1867); translated by W. L. Gage as Marie Antoinette and her Son, (New York: A. L. Fowle Publisher, 1906), 31. 351 be too difficult for me to play?’ asked she, timidly. ‘Nothing is too difficult for the Queen of France.’ ‘But there is a great deal that is too difficult for the dilettante, Marie Antoinette,’ sighed the queen. ‘Meanwhile, we will begin and try it.’ And with great facility and lightness of touch [she] began to play the bass part, which had been arranged by the Count de Vaudreuil for four hands. But the longer she played, the more the laughter and unrestrained gaiety disappeared from the features of the queen. Her noble countenance assumed an expression of deep earnestness, her eye kindled with feeling, and the cheeks which before had become purple-red with the exercise of play, now paled with deep inward emotion. All at once, in the very midst of the grand impassioned strains, Marie Antoinette stopped, and, under the strength of her feeling, rose from her seat. ‘Only Gluck could have written this!’ cried she. ‘This is the music, the divine music of the exalted master, my great teacher, Chevalier Gluck.’ ‘You are right; your majesty is a great musician,’ cried Lord Vaudreuil, in amazement, ‘the ideal pupil of the genial maestro. Yes, this music is Gluck’s. It is the overture to his new opera of Alceste, which he sent me from Vienna to submit to your majesty. These tones shall speak for the master, and entreat for him the protection of the queen.’ ‘You have not the addressed queen, but my own heart,’ said Marie Antoinette, with gentle, deeply moved voice. ‘It was a greeting from my home, greeting from my teacher, who is at the same time the greatest composer of Europe. Oh, I am proud to call myself his pupil. But Gluck needs no protection… . I thank you, count,’ continued Marie Antoinette turning to Vaudreuil with a pleasant smile. ‘This is a great pleasure which you have prepared for me. But knowing, as I now do, that this is Gluck’s music, I do not dare to play another note; for, to injure a note of his writing, seems to me like treason against the crown. I will practice this, and then some day we will play it to the whole court.’ 783 In actuality, Gluck composed Alceste in 1767 for Vienna and then revised the work in 1776 for Paris. With the action of the novel set in 1785, Marie Antoinette was already familiar with Gluck’s opera. By obscuring the compositional history of Alceste, Mühlbach recasts Marie Antoinette into the great patron of German music in Paris. In 783 Ibid., 35-36. 352 real life, this was a role that Marie Antoinette played very well as she invited Gluck to Paris to revitalize French opera and advocated for the staging of Iphigénie en Aulide. 784 Since the Queen correctly guesses the composer, the music, in a way, rewards her with childhood memories of her home and lessons with Gluck. In this moment, the overture to Alceste, in the words of Rousseau, “does not act precisely as music, but as a memorative sign.” 785 Gluck’s music reenters Mühlbach’s narrative when she describes the state of Marie Antoinette during her visit to Saint-Cloud, after the outbreak of the Revolution: Marie Antoinette thought of those pleasant days of the past, as she sat in the still, deserted music-room, where the instruments stood silent by the wall––where there were no hands to entice the cheerful melodies from the strings, as there had once been. ... She sat down before the spinet and opened it. Her fingers glided softly over the keys, and for the first time, in long months of silence, the room resounded with the tones of music. But alas! it was not cheerful music which the fingers of the queen drew from the keys; it was only the notes of pain, only cries of grief; and yet they recalled the happy by-gone times–those golden, blessed days, when the Queen of France was the friend of the arts, and when she received her early teacher, the great maestro and chevalier Gluck, in Versailles; when she took sides for him against the Italian maestro Lully [sic], and when all of Paris divided into two parties, the Gluckistes and Lullyists [sic], waging a bloodless war against each other. Happy Paris! At that time the interests of art alone busied all spirits, and the battle of opinions was conducted only with the pen. Gluck owed it to the mighty influence of the queen that his opera Alceste was brought upon the stage; but at its first representation the Lullyists gained the victory, and condemned him. In despair, Gluck left the opera house, driven by hisses into the dark street. A friend followed him and detained him, as he was hurrying away, and spoke in the gentlest tones. But Gluck interrupted him with wild impetuousness: ‘Oh, my friend!‘ cried 784 See Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 112-114. 785 Jean-Jacques Rousseau, “Music” from Dictionary of Music, trans. W. Waring and J. French (London, 1779), 267. Boym also discusses Rousseau’s passage, in The Future of Nostalgia, 4. 353 he, falling into the chest of him who was expressing his kindly sympathy, ‘Alceste has fallen!‘ But his friend… said, ‘Fallen? Yes, Alceste has fallen! It has fallen from heaven!’ 786 The queen thought of this as she sat before the spinet–thought how moved Gluck was when he related this answer of his, and that he, who had been so kind, was the Duke d’Adhémar. ... Softly glided her fingers over the keys, softly flowed over her pale, sunken cheeks two great tears–tears which she shed as she thought of the past... . ‘Away, away, those recollections of ingratitude and faithlessness! Art shall engage her thoughts in the music-room, and to Gluck and Alceste the hour belong! The queen struck the keys more firmly, and began to play the noble ‘Love’s Complaint,’ of Gluck’s opera. Unconsciously her lips opened, and with loud voice and intense passionate express, she sang the word, ‘Oh crudel, non posso in vere, tu los sui, senza dite!’ [sic]. 787 In Alceste, Admeto sings the aria “No, crudel, non posso vivere” in act 2, sc. 5 after he finds out that his wife offered her life for his. He proclaims that he would rather die than live without her. Similarly, Mühlbach’s Queen Antoinette no longer wants the crown, but her own death. This is Gluck’s last lesson for the Queen––to use art to overcome the burdens of life. When Marie Antoinette approached the guillotine, Mühlbach claims that she looked forward to death as a “joyful deliverance.” 788 Mühlbach recreated Marie Antoinette as a stoic hero who used the music of Gluck to surmount the pain that surrounded her. 789 Mühlbach wrote Marie Antoinette shortly after Austria’s humiliating loss to Prussia at Königgrätz. In the run-up to German unification, Mühlbach supported Pan- Germanism, and after the war wanted to turn away from writing Prussian historical 786 This anecdote circulated widely in the 19th century (Marx, Gluck und die Oper, 171). 787 Ibid., 250-51. 788 Ibid., 393. 789 Mühlbach also recast Frederick the Great into the role of the fairy-tale monarch and folk hero (Peterson, History, Fiction, and Germany, 119). 354 fiction toward an overarching history of all German people, regardless of borders. 790 In Mühlbach’s nostalgic image of Marie Antoinette, she was no longer French or specifically Austrian, but a citizen of a unified Austrian-German nation, and a supporter and student of the great Austrian-German composer, Gluck. 791 Both Marie Antoinette and Gluck are, in turn, remnants of France’s last great cultural flowering before its descent into chaos, and members of a vast Germanic empire that never was nor ever will be. “Kitsch,” according to Richard Leppert, “invokes a past that is nostalgically misremembered; as such kitsch is a means by which to forget––but less to forget the past than the present.” 792 There was, to some extent, a 19th-century collective desire to “misremember” the factual events of the 18th century, in order to appropriate and present 1770s Paris as a time when a German composer ruled the Paris stage and caused a revolution in the dramatic arts. The Paris of 1779 was also a Golden Age for 19th- century writers such as Adam, Planard, and Lyser, a time when Méhul (a Frenchman) and Gluck (a German) worked closely together, learning and adapting the Germanic musical aesthetics (unity of music and drama, truth in characterization, and expressive orchestral writing) to French opera. It was for these writers a desire to bury themselves in this nostalgic view of the past, and to hide from the increasingly derisive, schismatic language within the 19th-century musical culture. 790 Lynne Tatlock, “Recollections of a Small-Town Girl: Regional Identity, Nation and the Flux of History in Luise Mühlbach’s Erinnerungen aus der Jugend (1870),” Women in German Yearbook 13 (1997): 52. Tatlock also observes that Mühlbach supported peace because it ensured steady sales of her books. 791 This is based on Boym’s interpretation of nostalgia and nationalism in Future of Nostalgia, 12. 792 Richard Leppert’s commentary in Theodor W. Adorno, Essays on Music, selected with introduction, commentary, and notes by Richard Leppert, trans. Susan H. Gillespie (Berkeley: University of California Press), 361. 355 CONCLUSION: GLUCK’S MONUMENT In the first half of the 19th century, Gluck had a chameleon-like nature: at various times, he was the German rebel, defying the conventions of Italian and French opera; next his life represented the lost golden age of 18th-century Classicism; and then he was the soulful child, learning about music from the wilds of his Bohemian homeland. While critics and writers of the 19th century used Romantic imagery and language to characterize Gluck’s music and biography, many of their writings about the composer alluded to criticism from the 18th century. Within the 18th- and 19th-century critical discourse surrounding Gluck, writers stated that Gluck’s operas were models for younger composers and represented a new path in the development of opera. Writers and composers manipulated Gluck’s music and biography to transform him into the prophet and forefather of a new dramatic musical language. Beginning with the Viennese reform operas, critics and reviewers realized that they were experiencing something new. 793 At the premiere of Orfeo ed Euridice, the reviewer for the Wienerisches Diarium stated: The music is by our famous Cav. Christoph Gluck, who has surpassed himself in it. Perfect harmony rules throughout; both characters and passions are clearly and feeling expressed; the emotions of the listener are constantly engaged through a judicious changes of speed and a good choice and variety of instruments. 794 793 Even earlier, Gluck’s setting of Semiramide riconosciuta evoked a reaction from Metastasio, who claimed it was “ultra-barbaric and intolerable music,” in a letter to Giovanni Claudio Pasquini (reprinted in Patricia Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait in Letters and Documents [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1995], 24). 794 Wienerisches Diarium no. 82 (13 October 1762), cited and translated Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth- Century Portrait, 61. Howard notes that the review was likely by Calzabigi. 356 Reactions to these new elements in Gluck’s reform works varied, depending on individual and cultural preferences, and shifting aesthetic values. Upon examining the score of Orfeo, Baron Friedrich Melchior von Grimm, for example, claimed the score “seemed to me almost barbaric. Music will be ruined if this genre is ever to get established.” 795 Several years later, after a performance of the French Orphée et Eurydice, Grimm wrote “we owe to him [Gluck] the pleasure of hearing the most sublime music that has perhaps ever been performed in France.” 796 Critics in the 18th century pointed to Gluck’s operas, with their new musical language and dramatic form, as models for creating a truly expressive musical drama. In his review of Alceste, Joseph von Sonnenfels stated that in the hands of a man who composes in the spirit of the poet and who, where the ordinary worker with notes is tied down by rules, breaks the bounds and soars over the rules, to the extent that his genial freedom becomes law-giving and a model for others; in the hands of such a man, music must work wonders. 797 Sonnenfels’s writings about Alceste were also tied to his critiques of the foreign influence on the Austrian stage, the obscenities of local comic troupes, and the push for a national theater in which to cultivate German art. 798 Sonnenfels chose Gluck’s Alceste as his example because it was not merely an epigone of either comedic or foreign works, but 795 Melchoir Grimm, ed. Correspondance littéraire, philsophique et critique 3rd. edn. (1813), ed., Maurice Tourmeux (Paris: Garnier Frères, 1877-82), 35, cited and translated in Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth- Century Portrait, 65. 796 Ibid. 797 Joseph Sonnenfels, “Über die zu Wien aufgeführte Oper Alceste, aus den Briefen über die wienerischen Schaubühne,” in Wöchentliche Nachrichten und Ammerkungen die Musik betreffend (1768), cited and translated in Daniel Heartz, Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School 1740-1780 (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1995), 229. 798 Robert A. Kann, A Study in Austrian Intellectual History: From Late Baroque to Romanticism (New York: Octagon Books, 1973), 203-24. 357 rather it “plundered Nature for all the sounds of true expression.” 799 As Heartz notes, from reading Sonnenfels’s discussion of Alceste, one might almost have the impression that the opera was in German, not Italian. 800 Given Sonnenfels’s involvement with the German National Theater in Vienna, it seems likely that he was directing his comments about Alceste toward young German composers, telling them to break away from foreign influences and focus on creating serious German operatic works. From Sonnenfels onward, German intellectuals and music critics heard Gluck’s operas and those of Mozart as models for the future of German opera. (Particularly in the 19th century, Gluck’s works were frequently performed in German.) Reviewers in the 19th century looked on the works of 18th-century composers as signposts to a new musical language for contemporary compositions. In a review of Wagner’s direction of Armide in Dresden, Lyser (under the pseudonym Capellmeister Wahrlieb) stated: O, we would like all young composers, who, like Berlioz, were dazzled by the genius of Beethoven, yet strive to surpass this and thereby deteriorate into monstrosity, absurdity, tastelessness, and foolishness––we would like to direct all young Romantic [artists] to Armide, let them listen to it, and afterwards give them the score, saying: ‘Read it, study it, and throw all of your student works in the fire!’ 801 O, wir möchten alle jungen Componisten, welche wie Berlioz, durch das Genie eines Beethoven geblendet, dieses noch zu überbieten trachten, und dadurch ins Ungebeuerliche, Absurde, Abgeschmackte und Läppische verfallen––wir möchten alle jungen 799 Joseph Sonnenfels, “Briefen über die wienerischen Schaubühne,” 150, cited and translated in Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 82. 800 Heartz, Haydn, Mozart and the Viennese School, 229. 801 [Johann Burmeister-Lyser], “Capellmeister Wahrlieb’s Dresdner Opernskizzen. Armide. Große heroische Oper in fünf Acten von Ritter Gluck,” Allgemeine Theater-Chronik 12 no. 34 (March 1843): 135- 36, cited in Helmut Kirchmeyer, Situationsgeschichte der Musikkritik und des musikalischen Pressewesens in Deutschland, Teil IV: Das zeitgenössische Wagner-Bild, vol. 1, Wagner in Dresden (Regensburg: Gustav Bosse, 1967), 110. 358 Romantiker in die ‘Armide’ führen, sie hören lassen, und ihnen hernach die Partitur geben, sprechend: ‘leset, lernet, und werft all’ eure Schülerarbeiten ins Feuer!’ Lyser, along with many other 19th-century German critics, wanted young Romantic composers to turn away from the path of Rossini and instead use Gluck as a model for their musical compositions. It would be simple to state that Gluck’s works were influential because of his use of trombones in the orchestra, reintroduction of supernatural characters, reliance on accompanied recitatives, or curtailment of da capo arias and ritornellos. Yet the thread that ran through much of the 18th- and 19th-century discourse was that by eliminating the superfluities of Italian and French opera, he created a unified operatic work based on a noble, economical musical language. Therefore, Gluck’s 18th-century operatic output filled the 19th-century critical demands for organic works of art that did not rely on flashy theatrical effects and ostentatious music. In his review of Iphigénie en Aulide, E. T. A. Hoffmann opined that …a deeper study and appreciation of the spirit of Gluck’s dramas could disabuse many gifted young composers of prejudices and attitudes that cannot but lead them astray. Even if we failed to detect in their compositions the noble genius of that great master, then at least the unity and sustained character of their works would appeal to the listener more than clever bits and pieces, which will never produce the total impression on which a drama’s success depends. 802 According to Hoffmann, no longer was it enough to compose a single beautiful aria; rather, the composer needed to at least attempt to create a unified work of art. Hoffmann 802 E. T. A. Hoffmann, Review of Iphigénie en Aulide in E. T. A. Hoffmann’s Musical Writings: “Kreisleriana,” “The Poet and the Composer,” Music Criticism, ed. David Charlton, trans. Martyn Clarke (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 261. 359 believed that a thorough examination of Gluck’s music would place young composers on a path toward creating unified operatic works that would always please both the public and the critics. Gluck’s career and demanding personality were also upheld as models for younger composers. Critics encouraged young composers to follow Gluck’s uncompromising artistic vision and desire to set forth new rules of music. The fictional and biographical accounts of Gluck’s life presented readers with the image of an iconoclastic musician who would not follow the conventions of 18th-century Italian or French opera. Following Gluck’s example, 19th-century German composers did not have to follow the path of Rossini, Bellini, and other French and Italian composers, but could generate their own original compositions based on loftier musical ideals. Critics and composers perceived Gluck as a teacher to the younger generation of composers, and because of this role, they placed him in the teleological trajectory towards an organically developed musical drama. Gluck was and always will be a Classical-era composer for the Romantic generation. 803 Within the confines of 18th- century Classicism, Gluck began a revolution against the defects of Italian and French opera that was finally coming to fruition in late 19th-century German opera. In Franz Brendel’s historiography of opera, for example, Gluck was first to rebel against the defects of opera. 804 Brendel then called upon younger composers no longer to follow the 803 Stephan Kunze, “Christoph Willibald Gluck, oder: die ‘Natur’ des musikalischen Dramas,” in Christoph Willibald Gluck und die Opernreform, ed. Klaus Hortschansky (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1989), 393-97. 804 John Williams notes the recurring theme of progress with Brendel’s historical writings, in “Progress, modernity and the concept of an avant-garde,” The Cambridge History of Nineteenth-Century Music, ed. Jim Samson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 300-2. Regarding Brendel’s role in 19th- 360 path of foreign composers, but to adhere to the models of Gluck and Mozart. 805 Responding to the premiere of Rienzi in Hamburg, the reviewer Johann Wilhelm Christern wrote an essay on the history of opera, in which he interpreted Gluck as the first operatic composer to broaden the possibilities of what could be included in an opera: While Beethoven still has Rocco sing a popular Lied: “Hat man nur brav Geld”—the true elements of real opera already have their roots in the old Ritter Gluck, a virtue which will give fame and honor to this man for all time and which constitutes the character of his works. Gluck embraced the principle of dramatic freedom and the democratic principle, so to speak, in that he recognized the chorus in its original grandeur. 806 Wenn aber Beethoven seinen Rocco noch ein populaires Lied singen läßt: “Hat man nur brav Geld”– liegen doch im alten Ritter Gluck schon die wahren Elemente der eigentlichen Oper begründet, eine Tugend, die diesem Manne durch alle Zeit zu Ruhm und Ehre gereichen wird und eben das Charakteristische seiner Werke ausmacht. Gluck huldigte dem Princip der dramatischen Freiheit und so zu sagen dem demokratischen Princip, indem er den Choral in seiner originelle Würde anerkannte. According to Christern, in Rienzi, Wagner followed Gluck’s path by liberating himself “from the theoretical and the opinionated considerations” of the Paris opera world. Furthermore, Wagner constructed the entire opera around the chorus, thereby diminishing the importance of the soloists. Christern recast Wagner’s music for Rienzi in political terms: “... he has called the people to independence by means of emancipation from the old subjugation, he has toppled the aristocratic principle in operatic music and brought century canon formation, see Bernd Sponheuer, “Reconstructing Ideal Types of the ‘German’ in Music,” in Music and German National Identity, ed. Celia Applegate and Pamela Potter (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002), 36-58. 805 Franz Brendel, “Vergangenheit, Gegenwart und Zukunft der Oper,” Neue Zeitschrift für Musik 24 nos. 15-6 (February 1846): 57-60, 61-64 (hereafter NZfM). 806 J. W. Christern, “Wagner’s Oper” Hamburgschen Neuen Zeitung 76, no. 81 (April 1844): n. p., cited in Kirchmeyer, Wagner in Dresden, 406. 361 the democratic [principle] to honor, he has treated music as a full resounding language.” 807 Despite Christern’s comments, Wagner himself was inconsistent in his opinion of Gluck. 808 For Wagner, Gluck’s reform principles ultimately ended with Spontini; or, as Alexander Rehding has put it, “Wagner sets himself and his music drama off from the long development initiated by Gluck, whose reform efforts rather lead into a dead end.” 809 These inconsistences did not prevent critics from viewing Wagner’s operatic reforms as echoing those of Gluck. 810 It was Franz Liszt who made the largest claim on Gluck’s legacy and appropriated the composer as the herald of the music of the future. Furthermore, Liszt explicitly tied the changes Wagner made to the genre to Gluck’s lineage. 811 In his book Lohengrin et Tannhäuser de Richard Wagner, Liszt wrote, “Wagner would certainly have written the dedicatory preface to Alceste if Gluck had not already written it.” 812 Three years later, Liszt wrote an essay, “Orpheus von Gluck,” for the Neue Zeitschrift für Musik, in which he expanded upon the connection between Gluck and the Romantics. 813 Gluck, according 807 “... er hat das Volk durch Emancipation von der alten Unterordnung zur Selbständigkeit gerufen, er hat das aristokratische Princip in der Opernmusik gestürzt, und das demokratische zu Ehren gebracht, er hat die Musik als voller tönende Sprache behandelt”; ibid., 407. 808 Wolf Gerhard Schmidt, “‘Einsamer Leistern’ oder ‘machtloser Revolutionär’? Strategische Divergenzen in Richard Wagners Gluck-Rezeption,” Die Musikforschung 54, no. 3 (July-Sept 2001): 255-74. 809 Alexander Rehding, Music and Monumentality: Commemoration and Wonderment in Nineteenth- Century Germany (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 120. 810 The best example is Ludwig Nohl, who used the writings of Sonnenfels to demonstrate that Gluck’s operas were the forbearers of Wagner’s reforms and the birth of German opera; see his Gluck und Wagner (Munich: Finsterlin, 1870). 811 William Gibbons, “Music of the Future, Music of the Past: Tannhäuser and Alceste at the Paris Opéra,” 19th-century Music 33, no. 3 (Spring 2010): 241. 812 Franz Liszt, Lohengrin et Tannhäuser de Richard Wagner, Sämtliche Schriften, vol. 4, ed. Rainer Kleinertz (Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1989), 84 cited and translated in ibid. 813 Franz Liszt, “Orpheus von Gluck,” NZfM 4 no. 18 (28 April 1854): 189-90. 362 to Liszt, was the first to require that the libretto of an opera have a poetic motivation and follow tragic models; therefore, no longer could composers and poets exchange texts or eliminate recitatives. Gluck did exactly the opposite: he elongated the recitatives and mixed the arioso style with the cantabile, interweaving them with melody, so that no single part could be removed. Building upon Gluck’s new form of opera, Wagner now brought forth an operatic work in which music intertwined itself with the masterworks of poetry and literature. 814 Liszt’s “Orpheus” essay appeared after he directed a performance of the opera in Weimar. for which he replaced Gluck’s overture with his own Orpheus tone poem. 815 At the beginning of the essay, he directed his remarks to those critics who were uncertain whether modern audiences still enjoyed Gluck’s operas: And if those who do not understand the elevated language that art speaks, which is the only one befitting such occasions, are afflicted by boredom, one may consider that art, like all forces, has her own laws of decorum, her own etiquette, and that even those to whom the understanding of her deeper meaning is closed off must abide by them and pay them respectful consideration. 816 Und wenn Diejenigen von Langeweile heimgesucht werden, welche die hohe Sprache nicht verstehen, welche die Kunst als die zu solchen Gelegenheiten einzig angemessene spricht, möge man bedenken, daß die Kunst wie alle Gewalten ihre Schicklichkeitsgesetze, ihre Etiquette hat, und daß selbst Solche, denen das Verständniß für ihre tiefere Bedeutung verschlossen ist, sich nach ihnen zu richten, ihnen achtungsvolle Berücksichtigung zu zollen haben. 814 Liszt also credits Schubert for bringing music and literature together in his Lieder, which he calls a “Miniaturoper.” Detlef Altenburg provides an excellent overview of Liszt’s understanding and interaction with the music and literature of the Classical era during his time in Weimar, in “Franz Liszt and the Legacy of the Classical Era,” 19th-Century Music 18 (Summer 1994): 46-63. 815 The performance was in celebration of Grand Duchess Maria Paulowna’s birthday. 816 Liszt, “Orpheus von Gluck,” 190. 363 Liszt used the same rhetoric that so many previous writers and musicians had used to describe Gluck’s music: the composer brought forth a “higher language” that required the listener to engage with the music in order to access the deeper meaning of the opera and drama. This higher language notwithstanding, Liszt claimed that, “For [Gluck], Orpheus is no superhuman creature, no god or demigod, not a genius who leads humanity one step further on the path to perfection; he is only a saddened husband whose pain over the loss of his lover becomes known in the most poignant tones.” 817 Even though Gluck’s operas deal with mythic characters from antiquity, his music captured the most human emotions using the most basic musical means. In the end, Gluck “was nevertheless the harbinger, the glorious herald of this period” when poetry, literature, and music had integrated into one another to create a fully unified work of art. 818 In 1843, the Viennese Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde began a fundraising campaign to erect a monument to Gluck at the Matzleinsdorfer Friedhof. 819 On 2 July 1846, the 132nd anniversary of Gluck’s birthday, the unveiling of the new grave marker took place at the Friedhof. The celebrations lasted until 11 July, when Liszt, Czerny, and other luminaries of the arts listened to a performance of Mozart’s Requiem at the Paulanerkirche. The concert ended with choral excerpts from Iphigénie en Tauride with 817 “Für ihn ist Orpheus kein übermenschliches Wesen, kein Gott oder Halbgott, nicht ein Genius, der die Menschheit einen Schritt weiter führt auf der Bahn zur Vollendung; er ist nur ein um den Verlust der Geliebten trauernder Gatte, dessen Schmerz in den ergreifendsten Tönen laut wird“; ibid. 818 “so war er nichts destoweniger der Vorbote, der glorreiche Herold dieser Period... ”; ibid., 192. 819 The monument was in response to a story by L. Norbert (Ludwig Mielichhofer), “Gluck’s Grab in Wien,” Wiener Zeitschrift für Kunst, Literatur, Theater und Mode, reprinted in the Frankfurter Konversationsblatt no. 114 (24 April 1844): 455-56. Along with receiving private donations, the pianist Alexander Dreyschock provided a benefit concert for the monument. 364 new words to match the festival occasion. 820 In a snide comment about the festival, the reporter for the Münchener Politische Zeitung wrote “...and so it will be the case in Vienna that one will see the mighty Gluck more than hear [him] because none of his operas have been performed here for years.” 821 That is, when the Gesellschaft erected this monument to Gluck, his operas had been absent from the city for almost a decade. Indeed, his operas were to remain absent from the city’s operatic repertoire for several years after the ceremony. Two years later on 15 October 1848, the city of Munich also erected a monument to Gluck, the native son of Bavaria. For this event, Kapellmeister Joseph Hartmann Stunz composed a Festgesang in honor of the “German tone poet Gluck”: Hail the dearest fatherland, Which in an age long since past As a pledge to its ancient powers Gave rise to men of immortality! Men, whom a god protected Against saucy, degenerate art With the holy flaming sword Of the artist’s burning love. Hail to him! who with strict rule Strove for the highest truth Turned the soul in being Through iron song! As Orpheus brought His wife back to life from the night of Orcus, The master, with faithful striving, Has brought art home to us. 820 An overview of the performance can be found in August Schmidt, “Christoph Ritter von Gluck’s Grabmonument,” Wiener allgemeine Musik-Zeitung 6, no. 85 (16 July 1846): 337-38. 821 “... und so wird es geschehn, daß man in Wien den mächtigen Gluck mehr sehen als hören wird, denn seit Jahren wurde keine seiner Opern hier gegeben.”; A. Z., “Oesterreich. Wien, 4 Juli,” Münchener Politische Zeitung 47, no. 161 (10 July 1846): 675 (emphasis mine). 365 And in the kingdom of eternal beauty he came triumphantly, with the heroic Grecian sons, [he] drinks the German nectar of the gods; For art firmly weaves around the races a holy band, and the furthermost gladiators for truth offer each other a brotherly hand. Heil dem theuern Vaterlande, Das in tief versunkner Zeit Zeugte, alter Kraft zum Pfande, Männer der Unsterblichkeit! Männer, die ein Gott bewehrte Gegen freche Afterkunst Mit dem heil’gen Flammenschwerte Künstlerischer Liebesbrunst. Heil ihm! der mit strengem Walten Nach der höchsten Wahrheit rang, Nur die Seele zu Gestalten Schuf in ehernem Gesang! Wie die Gattin in das Leben Orpheus aus des Orkus Nacht, Hat die Kunst mit treuem Streben Uns der Meister heimgebracht. Und im Reich des ewig Schönen Zog er triumphirend ein, Mit den griech’schen Heldensöhnen Trinkt der deutsche Götterwein; Denn es webt um die Geschlechter Fest die Kunst ein heilig Band, Und der Wahrheit fernste Fechter Reichen sich die Bruderhand. 822 194 Joseph Hartmann Stuntz, “Dem deutschen Tondichter Gluck. Geb. den 4. Juli 1714 in der Oberpfalz, gest. den 17. Nov. 1787 zu Wien, Festgesang bei der Enthüllungs-Feier sei[n] es Denkmals zu München den 15. Oktober 1848.” The text for Stuntz’s Festgesang has been made available through the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek website at http://daten.digitale-sammlungen.de/~db/0005/bsb00059154/ images/index.html<accessed 9 September 2011>. A description of the event is in -f-, “Das Glucksdenkmal zu München,” Neue-Illustrirte Zeitschrift für Bayern 5 no.1 (1849): 5. Apparently, due to the civil unrest of the 1848 Revolution, the unveiling was not well attended. 366 Performing at the unveiling of the Gluck monument in Munich was a male choir, accompanied by a full wind ensemble that included an ophicleide, bass trumpet, and tuba. 823 The monument and music celebrated a composer who lived only the first three years of his life in the Upper Palatinate of northern Bavaria. 824 Leading up to the unveiling, there was considerable debate among music critics as to whether Gluck’s real birthplace was in Bavaria or Bohemia. Furthermore, Daniel Heartz points out that the Upper Palatinate region originally belonged to Bohemia and was only awarded to Bavaria after the War of the Spanish Succession in 1714, the same year Gluck was born. 825 The shift in political control caused the composer’s family to move from the region three years later. Yet Gluck’s first biographer, Johann August Schmidt, stated it was Bavaria that claimed Gluck as its native son and an “true German.” 826 The statue initially stood at the Odeonsplatz but now resides in the Promenadeplatz next to the statue of the Franco- Flemish composer Orlando di Lasso. Friedrich Nietzsche, in his essay “On the Use and Abuse of History for Life,” (1874) notes that a history of monumental events and individuals shows that “the great moments in the struggle of the human individual constitute a chain, that this chain unites mankind across the millennia, that the summit of such a long-ago moment shall be for me 823 Mus. ms. 4037 and parts are Mus. ms. 4038. 824 Patricia Howard, Gluck: An Eighteenth-Century Portrait, 1. 825 Daniel Heartz, “Coming of Age in Bohemia: The Musical Apprenticeships of Benda and Gluck,” The Journal of Musicology 6, no. 4 (Autumn, 1988): 518. Additionally, Rehding notes the difficulty in placing Gluck in the German or the Austrian Denkmäler series, when they started in the 1890s (Music and Monumentality, 142). 826 Anton Schmidt, Christoph Willibald Ritter von Gluck, dessen Leben und tonkünstlerisches Wirken (Leipzig : Friedrich Fleischer, 1854). 367 still living, bright and great... .” 827 This monumental history, however, is indistinguishable from mythic fiction, and the past itself suffers harm, as whole segments of history are forgotten and only a few embellished facts remain. 828 In many ways, these two monuments in Vienna and Munich deceive the musical connoisseurs of each society: they are statues to a composer whose music had vanished from each city. On one hand, the writer from Munich was right to question the audacity of Vienna’s musical community for erecting a monument to a composer long forgotten by the general populace. Moreover, it was a monument not to Gluck the individual, but to Vienna’s glorious past, which was replaced by musical frivolity. 829 On the other hand, Gluck neither spent much time in Munich nor spoke of his Bavarian homeland. 830 These two monuments are an outward sign of what had been happening to Gluck’s music and biography all through the 19th century: they were open for interpretation, manipulation, and appropriation for whatever personal, cultural, or political agendas people had. Munich and Vienna raised monuments to an era that had fully disappeared by the 1840s but was still longed for by Germany’s and Austria’s musical elite. “[A] half- understood monument to some great era of the past,” according to Nietzsche, “is erected as an idol and zealously danced around, as though to say: ‘Behold, this is true art: pay no 827 Friedrich Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations, ed. Daniel Breazeale, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 68. 828 Ibid., 70-71. 829 See Edward Hanslick’s comments about Vienna in the 1830s and 1840s, translated in E. Hanslick: Vienna’s Golden Years of Music, ed. Henry Pleasants (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1950), 6; see also Sigrid Wiesmann, “Vienna: Bastion of Conservatism,” in Music and Society and the Early Romantic Era Between Revolutions: 1789 and 1848, ed. Alexander Ringer (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1990), 84-108. 830 Gluck did stop at the Inn Zum Goldenen Hirschen on his trips between Vienna and Paris; see Robert Münster, “Chirstoph Willibald Gluck und München: Aufenthalte und Aufführungen bis 1787,” in Festschrift Otto Biba zum 60. Geburtstag, ed. Ingrid Fuchs (Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 2006), 71-72. 368 heed to those who are evolving and want something new!’” 831 To some extent, the Gluck monuments in Munich and Vienna point to a great era of the past, as if to hide from the changing musical and cultural landscape of the 19th century. Yet there were also philosophers, writers, and composers in the 18th and 19th centuries who transformed Gluck into monuments of loftier musical drama, in order to demand that future artists examine older musical works to find for themselves a musical language that was original and whole—they danced around Gluck’s monument not to hold back progress, but to celebrate a new way forward. 831 Nietzsche, Untimely Meditations, 68. 369 BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources: Periodicals Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung Anonymous. “Berlin, d. 23sten Apr.” 10, no. 33 (May 1808): 525. ----. “Etwas über die Tonkunst in Böhmen.” 23, nos. 44-45 (October, November 1821): 737-44, 753-57. ----. “Musikalische Nachrichten aus Weimar.” 23, no. 22 (May 1821): 385-90. ----. “Nachrichten: Amsterdam. Ende April 1821.” 23, no. 23 (June 1821): 406-9. ----. “Nachrichten: Berlin. 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