Relevance and Marginalisation in Scandinavian and European Performing Arts 1770–1860: Questioning Canons 036746943X, 9780367469436

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Relevance and Marginalisation in Scandinavian and European Performing Arts 1770–​1860

Relevance and Marginalisation in Scandinavian and European Performing Arts 1770–​ 1860: Questioning Canons reveals how various cultural processes have influenced what has been included, and what has been marginalised from canons of European music, dance, and theatre around the turn of the nineteenth century and the following decades. This collection of essays includes discussion of the piano repertory for young ladies in England; canonisation of the French minuet; marginalisation of the popular German dramatist Kotzebue from the dramatic canon; dance repertory and social life in Christiania (Oslo); informal cultural activities in Trondheim; repertory of Norwegian musical clocks; female itinerant performers in the Nordic sphere; preconditions, dissemination, and popularity of equestrian drama; marginalisation and amateur staging of a Singspiel by the renowned Danish playwright Oehlenschläger, also with perspectives on the music and its composers; and the perceived relevance of Henrik Ibsen’s staged theatre repertory and early dramas. By questioning established notions about canon, marginalisation, and relevance within the performing arts in the period 1770–​1860, this book asserts itself as an intriguing text both to the culturally interested public and to scholars and students of musicology, dance research, and theatre studies. Randi Margrete Selvik is Professor Emeritus in musicology at the Department of Music, Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU), Trondheim. Her primary research interests include music history from the seventeenth to the early nineteenth centuries, with French baroque opera, Nordic Singspiel, and musical dilettantism in Norway as important focus areas. Svein Gladsø is Professor Emeritus in theatre studies at the Department of Art and Media Studies, Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU), Trondheim. His main research interests include theatre history, dramaturgy, theatre politics, and theatre theory. He has been the chair of the Association of Nordic Theatre Scholars and the editor of Nordic Theatre Studies.

Annabella Skagen is a Senior Curator at Ringve Music Museum in Trondheim, Norway. She holds a PhD in theatre studies from the Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU), Trondheim (2015). Her main research interests include theatre and music history in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, centring around performative practices within the contexts of politics, sociability, and identity.

Relevance and Marginalisation in Scandinavian and European Performing Arts 1770–​1860 Questioning Canons Edited by Randi Margrete Selvik, Svein Gladsø, and Annabella Skagen

First published 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an Informa business © 2021 selection and editorial matter, Randi Margrete Selvik, Svein Gladsø, and Annabella Skagen; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Randi Margrete Selvik, Svein Gladsø, and Annabella Skagen to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-​in-​Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-​in-​Publication Data Names: Selvik, Randi M., 1944– editor. | Skagen, Annabella, editor. | Gladsø, Svein, editor. Title: Relevance and marginalisation in Scandinavian and European performing arts 1770–1860 : questioning canons / edited by Randi Selvik, Annabella Skagen and Svien Gladsø. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York : Routledge, 2021. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020033741 (print) | LCCN 2020033742 (ebook) | ISBN 9780367469436 (hardback) | ISBN 9781003032090 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Arts and society–Scandinavia–History–18th century. | Arts and society–Scandinavia–History–18th century. | Performing arts–Scandinavia–History–18th century. | Performing arts–Scandinavia–History–19th century. | Canon (Art) Classification: LCC NX180.S6 R427 2021 (print) | LCC NX180.S6 (ebook) | DDC 790.20948/09033–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020033741 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020033742 ISBN: 978-​0-​367-​46943-​6  (hbk) ISBN: 978-​1-​003-​03209-​0  (ebk) Typeset in Bembo by Newgen Publishing UK

Contents

List of illustrations  List of contributors  Preface  1 The (pre)history of canons 

vii ix xv 1

S V E I N   GLAD S Ø

2 Meeting the masters: Repertory choices for young ladies 

22

P E N E L O P E   CAV E

3 Canonisation of the danced minuet over centuries 

43

D Ó R A  K I SS

4 On the other side of the canon: August von Kotzebue as a popular playwright and controversial public persona 

66

M E I K E   WAGN ER

5 Traces of dance and social life: A dance book and its context 

87

E L I ZAB E T H S VARSTAD

6 Outside canon: Anonymous music and informal cultural activities in Trondheim around 1800 

102

E VA   H OV

7 A private playlist? Repertory in Norwegian eighteenth-​century musical clocks  M ATS K RO U THÉ N

128

vi Contents

8 Itinerant female performers in the Nordic sphere 1760‒1774: Traceability and visibility 

156

AN N E M A RGRE TE FI SK VI K

9 The hybrid child: The preconditions, dissemination, and enduring popularity of equestrian drama 

175

E LLE N K A ROLI NE GJE RVAN

10 Vittorio Alfieri’s tramelogedia Abéle: A physiognomic reading of a marginalised play by a canonical author 

188

M ARI A-​C H RI STI NA  MUR

11 Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar: A rejected Singspiel performed 206 AN N AB E L LA  SK AGE N

12 Forgotten music: Early Norwegian composers and Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar 

227

RAN D I M A RGRE TE  SE LVI K

13 Questioning the canons of Ibsen’s theatre: Re-​searching the relevance of Ibsen’s theatre repertory, 1852–​1862 

251

JO N N Y GAARD

General index  Person index 

271 278

Illustrations

Figures 3.1 Antony L’Abbé, A New Collection of Dances. London. Barreau (c. 1725), p. 21. © Derra de Moroda Tanzarchives  3.2 Nogent, Brittany. Feast with minuet dancing. Rol Press Agency. 1913 © Bibliothèque nationale de France  4.1 Menschenhaß und Reue, copperplate print from August von Kotzebue’s sämmtliche dramatische Werke, Leipzig 1827, vol. 2. © Meike Wagner  5.1 Svend Henrik Walcke, Toure-​Bog, p. 4: List of positions, steps, bows, and rules for correct behaviour. © NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket –​Gunnerusbiblioteket (NTNU University Library –​Gunnerus Library). Reprinted with kind permission  6.1 The Knudtzon family, Trondheim. These are William Allingham’s friends, the Knudtzon family. While the elder siblings are occupied with musical activities, Sarah Marie is knitting, Jørgen stands behind her dressed in uniform, and Broder is playing with a spinning top. Painted by Elias Meyer, 1795 (private ownership). © Photo: Eva Hov. Reprinted with kind permission  6.2 Ihlen. An area by the shore outside the town wall, where farmers, working people, soldiers, and sailors met. Did William Allingham waltz to pols tunes here? From a print of an anonymous watercolour, ca. 1850–​1870. © Photo: Eva Hov  7.1 Musical clock, signed ‘Ingebrigt Graboe’ (NK 351–​1899). © Photo: Johan Norrback  7.2 Action on the musical clock (NK 351–​1899). From below: pinned barrel, hammers and bells. © Photo: Johan Norrback  7.3 The titles of the melodies, written on the clock face (NK 351–​1899). © Photo: Mats Krouthén 

55 58 70

93

106

113 139 140 141

viii Illustrations 8.1 Poster for performances 16–8 July 1760 by De Preussiske Kunstnerinder, announcing a variety of acrobatic feats and dance numbers. Statsarkivet i Trondheim (The Regional State Archives in Trondheim). Reprinted with kind permission  159 9.1 Playbill promoting a performance in Trondheim on 4 February 1840. © Statsarkivet i Trondheim (The Regional State Archives in Trondheim). Reprinted with kind permission 179 9.2 Undated engraving. © Statsarkivet i Trondheim (The Regional State Archives in Trondheim). Reprinted with kind permission  181 11.1 Hans Hagerup Falbe’s (1772–​1830) manuscript with the opening of the final chorus for Fredsfesten (The Peace Festival, 1810). The original lines have been crossed out and replaced with the lines from the finishing chorus from Freyas Altar. © Nasjonalbiblioteket (National Library of Norway). Reprinted with kind permission  216 11.2 Andreas Berg (1788–​1844). © Trondheim byarkiv (The Municipal Archives of Trondheim). Reprinted with kind permission  218 12.1 First page of ‘Duettino’ from Freias Altar for soprano and tenor by Lars Møller Ibsen. © Nasjonalbiblioteket (National Library of Norway). Reprinted with kind permission  233 12.2 Hans Hagerup Falbe (1772–​1830). Copperplate engraving by Gilles-​Louis Chretien (1754–​1811). © Det Kgl. Bibliotek (The Royal Danish Library). Reprinted with kind permission  237

Tables 2 .1 National Melodies by ‘the most eminent authors’  2.2 Elizabeth Appleton’s suggested repertory table for her pupil Amelia  7.1 Norwegian musical clockmakers according to Ingstad. Urmakerkunst i Norge (1980). Use of other sources will be commented  7.2 Graboe clock from the National Museum of Decorative Arts and Design. Titles and identification  7.3 Graboe clock, Telemark (private owner). Titles and identification  7.4 Hymn repertory in musical clock made by Torgeir Hansen Leich 

29 30 132 141 143 145

Contributors

Annabella Skagen (co-​editor) is a Senior Curator at Ringve Music Museum in Trondheim, Norway. She holds a PhD in theatre studies from the Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU), with the dissertation entitled ‘Fra grevens gård til Prinsens gate –​teater i Trondhjem 1790–​1814’ (2015). Her main research interests include Norwegian cultural history, and theatre and music history in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, centering around performative, theatrical, and musical practices within the contexts of politics, sociability, and identity. Her disseminations include both scholarly writings and output directed towards a general audience. She has also co-​ authored a textbook on theatre dramaturgy, entitled Dramaturgi –​ forestillinger om teater (2015). Other publications include ‘Residensteater i 1790-​årenes Trondhjem:  Mellom privat selskapelighet og offentlig festspill’, in Randi M. Selvik et al. (eds.), Lidenskap eller levebrød? Utøvende kunst i endring rundt 1800 (2015) and ‘Å spille en rolle: Borgere og teater i Trondhjem 1814’, in Ida Bull et al. (eds.), Trondheim 1814 (2014). Her forthcoming articles include ‘The Singspiels of Hans Iver Horn: Nuances of Dano-​Norwegian patriotism during the Napoleonic wars’ (1700-​tal: Nordic Yearbook for Eighteenth-Century Studies, 2020), and ‘Fem portrettmedaljonger fra 1700-​tallets Trondhjem: En tverrfaglig undersøkelse i materialitet, musikkhistorie og identitetsdannelse’ (submitted 2020). Anne Margrete Fiskvik is a Professor in the programme for dance studies at the Department of Music, Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU), Trondheim. Fiskvik’s main research areas are early dance history, choreomusical analysis, popular dance and music cultures, and itinerant dancing in the Nordic countries. Fiskvik was a member of the cultural committee for dance in the Arts Council Norway, 2016–​2020. Among her most recent publications are ‘ “Nemo ei in orbe terrarum in artibus par est”:  The rope and wire repertory of itinerant artist Michael Stuart’, in Randi Margrete Selvik et  al. (eds.), Performing Arts in Changing Societies:  Opera, Dance, and Theatre in European and Nordic Countries around 1800 (2020);‘“Let no one invite me, for I do not dance”’, in Eric Ziolkowski (ed.), Kierkegaard, Literature and the Arts (2018); ‘Where highbrow taste meets

x Contributors itinerant dance in eighteenth-century Scandinavia: The dance entrepreneur Martin Nürenbach’, in Sjuttonhundratal: Nordic Yearbook for Eighteenth-​Century Studies, vol. 13 (2016); ‘La famille dansant: Investigating the family structure and repertory of the Johannesénske Balletselskab’, Nordic Theatre Studies 27, no. 2 (2015); and ‘Information uti Dands i Christiania 1769–​1773’, in Randi M. Selvik et al. (eds.), Lidenskap eller levebrød. Utøvende kunst i endring rundt 1800 (2015). Dóra Kiss is a dance scholar, dancer, teacher, and choreographer. She finished her PhD in musicology at the University of Geneva, and a PhD in arts at the University of Nice, in 2013. Her dissertation entitled ‘La saisie du mouvement: de l’écriture et de la lecture des sources de la belle danse (1700–​1797)’ was honoured by the Handschin award of Société Suisse de Musicologie (2014). Another award is from Office fédéral de la culture, Swiss dance heritage (2016). Her research has focused on the writing and reading of belle danse. Since 2017 she has been working on Cadanse, an anthology of dance resources in Swiss public libraries. Among her publications are Saisir le mouvement: Écrire et lire les sources de la belle danse (1700–​1797) (2016); she has edited Martinet, J. J., Essai ou principes élémentaires de l’art de la danse [1797] (2015); published ‘De l’escrime à la danse: croiser le fer, les arts, la pratique et la recherche’, Revue en ligne Arrêt sur scène/​scene focus (2014), and ‘Corpus musicale et imaginaire des gestes de la belle danse’, in Actes du colloque IVe, Rencontres Internationales Paul Zumthor. Elizabeth Svarstad is a freelance dancer, choreographer, and dance scholar in Oslo, Norway. She holds a Master of Arts (MA) in dance from the Norwegian College of Dance and a PhD in dance studies from the Department of Music, Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU), Trondheim, with the thesis ‘ “Aqquratesse i alt af Dands og Triin og Opførsel”: Dans som social dannelse i Norge 1750–​1820’ (2017). This is about dance as social education in Norway. Svarstad teaches baroque dance at the Norwegian Academy of Music in Oslo and Oslo National Academy of the Arts. She is a leader of the dance company Compagnie Contours. Among her publications are ‘Dance and social education in early nineteenth-​ century Christiania’, in Randi Margrete Selvik et al. (eds.), Performing Arts in Changing Societies: Opera, Dance, and Theatre in European and Nordic Countries around 1800 (2020); ‘Transkripsjon av og kommentar til Pierre Jean Laurents dansebok’, Folkedansforskning i Norden (2017); with Jon Nygaard, ‘A caprice –​ the summit of Ibsen’s theatrical career’, Ibsen Studies (2016); and with Siri Mæland and Egil Bakka, ‘Vertikalitet og den franske 1700-​talls menuetten’, Folkedansforskning i Norden (2013). Ellen Karoline Gjervan is an Associate Professor in theatre studies and Deputy Principal of Masters Education at Queen Maud University College in Trondheim. Gjervan holds a PhD in theatre studies from the University of

Contributors  xi Bergen (2010) with the thesis ‘Creating Theatrical Space: A Study of Henrik Ibsen’s Production Books, Bergen 1852–​1857’. She has published on Ibsen’s theatrical career, on dramaturgy, political theatre, and the stagecraft of the long eighteenth century, and on itinerant theatre groups in Norway and Northern Europe around 1800. Among her publications are ‘Pantomime under the Aurora Borealis:  The Winter season of the Gautier troupe in Trondheim, Norway, 1839–​1840’, in Randi Margrete Selvik et  al. (eds.), Performing Arts in Changing Societies: Opera, Dance, and Theatre in European and Nordic Countries around 1800 (2020); ‘Staging state patriotism: Høstgildet of 1790’, in A.  Kauppala et  al. (eds.), Tracing Operatic Performances in the Long Nineteenth Century: Practices, Performers, Peripheries (2017);‘Privat teateraktivitet, dilettanteri eller amatørteater? Dramatiske selskaper i Norge 1780–​1830’, in Randi M. Selvik et al. (eds.), Lidenskap eller levebrød? Utøvende kunst i endring rundt 1800 (2015); ‘The Power of Illusion’, Nordic Theatre Studies 26, no. 2 (2014); and ‘Ibsen staging Ibsen: Henrik Ibsen’s culturally embedded staging practice in Bergen’, Ibsen Studies 11, no. 2 (2011). Eva Hov is a piano pedagogue at Trondheim kulturskole (Trondheim Municipal School of Performing Arts) and a freelance researcher. She has a master’s degree in musicology from the University of Trondheim (now Norwegian University of Science and Technology [NTNU]), with a thesis on Norwegian traditional music and dance. Hov’s research interests include local cultural history, connections between Trondheim and Donegal (Ireland) 1800–​1880, and local music and dance manuscripts 1670–​1870, often used by amateur dancers performing eighteenth-​and nineteenth-​century social dances. She has written numerous articles for the annals of a local historical society and worked as a research assistant for the NTNU project Performing Arts between Dilettantism and Professionalism: Music,Theatre and Dance in the Norwegian Public Sphere 1770–​1850. Her selected publications are ‘Glömda kvinnoliv från tre sekler –​en studie av Trondhjemska notböcker i lokalhistorisk kontext’, in Märta Ramsten et al. (eds.), Spelmansböcker i Norden –​Perspektiv på handskrivna notböcker (2019); ‘ “Odel og Elskov” –​Innsiderapport fra et orkdals-​bryllup i 1806’, Årbok for Orkdal 2017; ‘I skyggen av en Generalmajor –​familien Bang på Ferstad’, Byåsminner 2016; ‘Krohgfamilens glemte kvinner’, Byåsminner 2015; ‘Bræmskids Huve og Stukken Klokke  –​klesdrakt på Byåsen rundt 1814’, Byåsminner 2014; and ‘Post-​Anders plays Pols –​On variation, change and creativity in a reproductive tradition’, in The Musician in Focus –​Individual Perspectives in Nordic Ethnomusicology (2000). Jon Nygaard is Emeritus Professor in theatre studies at the University of Oslo. From 2005 to 2016, he was a professor at the Centre for Ibsen Studies. In 1973–​1983, he established the study of drama, theatre, and film at the University of Trondheim. In 1976, he had a Polish State Fellowship. From 1980 to 1982, he studied directing at the Academy of Performing Arts in Vienna. He was a visiting professor at several Baltic universities during 1992–​1993, and at UC Davis, California, in 1997–​1999. Nygaard has headed

xii Contributors national and international research projects on Ibsen and European drama funded by Norwegian and Nordic research councils: Ibsen in performance; Ibsen and the drama of modernity; new theatre policy in Norway; theatre history in the Baltic region; theatre and local democracy in the Baltic states; and theatre as an expression of culture and identity among Arctic indigenous people. He has published books and articles on Ibsen’s dramatic method; European theatre history (Teatrets historie i Europa, 1–​3 [1993–​1995]); theories and methods in theatre studies; theatre in the Norwegian cultural policy in the 1980s; rock art as an indicator of prehistoric theatre and ritual performances; and Ibsen’s genealogy and historical context (“… af stort est du kommen”: Henrik Ibsen og Skien [2013]). Maria-​Christina Mur studied history and comparative literature at the University of  Vienna. She holds a PhD from the University of Bologna, within the programme ‘DESE –​Doctorat d’Études Superieures Européennes’ and with a dissertation entitled ‘The Circulation of Physiognomical Discourse in European Theatrical Culture, 1780–​1830’ (2016). She spent several months of research during her PhD at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU) in Trondheim. Her main research focus is literature and its relation to (pseudo-)scientific theories of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and her research interests include Italian, French, English, and German literature. Mur’s dissertation was published in 2017. She has also published ‘Franz Joseph Gall’s Schädellehre in August von Kotzebue’s Comedy Die Organe des Gehirns: Questioning and Satirising the (Pseudo-​) scientific Idea of Phrenology’, Revue des littératures européennes, no 11: Science et fiction (2017). Mats Krouthén studied musicology at the University of Gothenburg. Since 2000 he has been a curator at Ringve Music Museum,Trondheim. Krouthén specialises in keyboard and mechanical instruments, and he has published articles on string instruments and regional music history. His research perspectives are connections between man, music, society, and technology. Krouthén has produced several exhibitions at Ringve Music Museum on topics such as organology (especially keyboard instruments), iconography, instrument making, and popular music. Among his publications are ‘Ikke bare tikk-​takk. Om spilleur, makt og prakt i det norske lydlandskapet 1700–​ 1900’, in Frank Meyer (ed.), Norges lyder  –​stabbursklokker og storbykakofoni (2018); ‘60 års insamling av musikinstrument’, in Ivar Håkon Eikje (ed.), Det begynte med et piano. Ringve museum 60 år (2012); with Leif Jonsson, ‘Självspelande pianon på Ringve museum’, in Leif Jonsson (ed.), Mangfold og vidsyn. En musikkvitenskapelig antologi til Ola Kai Ledang ved fylte 70 år (2011); ‘The historical clavichord in Norway’, Clavichord International (May 2006); ‘Johan Gabriel Högwall and his Journeymen: Square piano production in Göteborg, Sweden, ca 1790–ca 1840’, in Monica Lustig (ed.), Geschichte und Bauweise des Taffelklaviers, Michaelsteiner Konferenzberichte 68 (2006). Krouthén has also written about museum collection management.

Contributors  xiii Meike Wagner is a Professor of theatre studies at Stockholm University. She holds a PhD from Mainz University, with a dissertation on the mediality of the theatrical body. She is the author of Sutured Puppet Bodies: On the Theatre Body and the Medial Gaze (2003), and Theatre and the Public Sphere in ‘Vormaerz’: Berlin, Munich and Vienna as Playgrounds of Bourgeois Media Practices (2013). Her main research interests include theatre and media, performance and contemporary theatre, animation film, puppetry, theatre history, nineteenth-​century theatre, theatre, and politics. She is the co-​editor of Double: Magazin für Figuren-​, Objekt-​und Puppentheater. Since 2018 she has been the Secretary General of the International Federation for Theatre Research. Her selected other publications are Nähte am Puppenkörper. Der mediale Blick und die Körperentwürfe des Theaters (2003); ‘Out of time, into time – Spatio-temporal dramaturgies in Zacharias Werner’s Der vierundzwanzigste Februar’, European Romantic Review (2018); ‘Expanding the canon, creating alternative knowledge, marketing the field? Performance practices in theatre studies’, Nordic Theatre Studies (2016); edited with Wolf-​Dieter Ernst and Anja Klöck, Psyche  –​ Technik  –​ Darstellung. Beiträge zur Schauspieltheorie als Wissensgeschichte (2016); editor and contributor, Agenten der Öffentlichkeit. Theater und Medien im 19. Jahrhundert (2014). Penelope Cave is an international prize-​winning harpsichordist. Her CDs, ‘From Lisbon to Madrid’, and ‘Panorama’, have been well received. After completing her PhD at the University of Southampton in 2014, she project-​ managed and appeared in four short films about music at Tatton Park, and became an Attingham scholar and artist-​ in-​ residence at Dyrham Park. She has continued to work for the National Trust as an advisor. Alongside European keyboard courses and journal articles, Cave has given academic papers for conferences in the United Kingdom and internationally, with particular reference to Regency domestic music-​making, early piano repertory and pedagogy. She is a Visiting Scholar at Wolfson College, Oxford. Cave has written numerous articles for The Consort, Sounding Board, and Harpsichord & Fortepiano. Her most recent publications include ‘Association by design: Clementi’s musical characteristics’, in Muzio Clementi and British Musical Culture (2018); ‘Musical mothers and the mother church:  Lessons from the Jerningham Letters’, in Women’s History (Spring 2018); ‘Learn to prelude in Spanish, from Soler’s “Llave de la Modulación” ’, Sounding Board no. 12 (May 2018); and ‘The sincerest form of flattery: Popular piano style in the late Georgian Era’, The Consort vol. 73 (Summer 2017). Her PhD thesis entitled ‘Piano Lessons in the English Country House, 1785–​1845’ appeared online in 2014. Randi Margrete Selvik (co-​editor) is Emeritus Professor in musicology at the Department of Music, Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU), Trondheim. She holds a PhD from NTNU in musical life and musicians in Bergen ca. 1750–​1830 (2005). Her research interests include music history from the seventeenth to the early nineteenth centuries, with

xiv Contributors French baroque opera and dilettantism as important focus areas. She has co-​authored a Norwegian monograph on Lully’s operas, Solkongens opera. Den franske tragédie en musique 1673–​86 (2015) and was the editor of the journal Studia Musicologica Norwegica (2007–​2009). Among her publications are ‘Performative arts between rules and realities:  The adaptive history of genre’ (with Svein Gladsø), in Selvik et al. (eds.), Performing Arts in Changing Societies:  Opera, Dance, and Theatre in European and Nordic Countries around 1800 (2020); ‘Høstgildet by J.  P. A.  Schulz:  A national Singspiel?’, in A. Kauppala et al. (eds.), Tracing Operatic Performances in the Long Nineteenth Century:  Practices, Performers, Peripheries (2017); ‘Borgerskapets orkester’, in Harmonien i fire satser. Bergen filharmoniske orkester 1765–​2015 (2015); and ‘ “Concerterende Elskere.” Musikkdilettanter i Bergen før og etter 1800’, in Marie-​Theres Federhofer and Hanna Hodacs (eds.), Mellom pasjon og profesjonalisme. Dilettantkulturer i skandinavisk kunst og vitenskap (2011). Svein Gladsø (co-​editor) is Emeritus Professor in theatre studies, Department of Art and Media Studies, Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU), Trondheim. Gladsø’s research interests include theatre history, historiography, cultural policies, and dramaturgy. He has been the chair of the Association of Nordic Theatre Scholars, the editor of Nordic Theatre Studies and a member of the committee for the Danish Accreditation Institution for Theatre Studies in Denmark during 2015–​2016. He was the vice dean of education at the Faculty of Humanities, NTNU, from 2013 to 2017. Among his publications are ‘Performative arts between rules and realities:  The adaptive history of genre’ (with Randi Margrete Selvik), in Selvik et al. (eds.), Performing Arts in Changing Societies: Opera, Dance, and Theatre in European and Nordic Countries around 1800 (2020); co-​author of Dramaturgi:  forestillinger om teater (2015); ‘Another turn –​Cognitive science as a general theory for theatre historiography?’, Nordic Theatre Studies 20 (2008); Teater mellom jus og politikk (2008); and ‘Das Kind der Liebe –​en fabel for opprørske piker eller angrende menn?’, in Selvik et al. (eds.), Lidenskap eller levebrød? Utøvende kunst i endring rundt 1800 (2015).

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Preface

This is the third and final anthology resulting from the Norwegian research project ‘Performing arts between dilettantism and professionalism: Music, theatre and dance in the Norwegian public sphere, 1770–​1850’ –​pArts (www. ntnu.no/​parts). The project lasted from 2012 until 2016 and was funded by the Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU) in Trondheim and the Norwegian Research Council. Interdisciplinarity was a central premise for the project, and the participants’ backgrounds were from dance research, musicology and theatre studies. Six of them have contributed to this volume, namely, Randi Margrete Selvik, Svein Gladsø, Annabella Skagen, Anne Margrete Fiskvik, Ellen Karoline Gjervan, and Elizabeth Svarstad. This book originates from a research conference organised by the project, as do the previous pArts anthologies Lidenskap eller levebrød? Utøvende kunst i endring rundt 1800 (2015), and Performing Arts in Changing Societies: Opera, Dance, and Theatre in European and Nordic Countries around 1800 (2020).The conference ‘Re-​searching relevance: Questioning canons of music, dance and theatre around 1800’ was held in January 2016 at the Ringve Music Museum in Trondheim. The aim of the conference was to investigate how criticism and scholarly works have contributed to the formation and deconstruction of canons and ‘classics’, and to investigate ideas of ‘relevance’ of historical performance by looking at the tensions between canonisation and marginalisation. All the chapters in this book, except the introduction, are based on papers presented at the conference. They represent a geographical landscape stretching across Europe from Italy to Norway, spanning the century between 1770 and 1860, a period pivotal in the formation of the performing arts in modern Western society. The editors would like to thank the Norwegian Research Council, the Faculty of Humanities at NTNU, Ringve Music Museum and all the conference participants and anthology contributors who have taken part in this project and helped bring to light new interdisciplinary knowledge and perspectives within musicology, dance, and theatre research.

1  The (pre)history of canons Svein Gladsø

Introduction The starting point and the basis of this anthology was a series of conferences staged by a research project examining, among other topics, canonisation and marginalisation processes in the history of performing arts. Canonisation, in particular, was brought to the forefront in a concluding conference of the project in 2016: ‘Re-​searching relevance; Questioning canons of music, dance and theatre, around 1800ʼ.1 The issue of canonisation was approached in the last conference through two related questions: (1) in what way have criticism and academia contributed to canonisation in the three artistic fields in question? and (2) what role has academia played in bringing marginalised works of art back to attention? The questions were stated generally but were intended to act as invitations to reflect on processes of canonisation within the specific fields of music, theatre, and dance. As the questions indicate, the conference chose to focus not only on the situation around 1800, but also on the contemporary situation, hoping to display continuities and differences in the approaches to canonisation in general. We know from other fields of canon studies that there are different lines of interest; above all, there is a division between historically oriented studies and works on contemporary curricula and education. In the literary discourse on canon formation, which in many ways has led the way in the debate concerning the concept of canon during the last decades, the relationship between canon and curricula has been a core concern. Harold Bloom’s (1994) The Western Canon: The Books and School of the Ages represented a watershed in the debate. Bloom’s work was, to some extent, an answer to widespread worries over alleged threats to the Western literary canon by political and ideological streams of thought found in higher education. On the other hand, many scholars and critics regarded the contribution by Bloom as an attempt to restrict the influence of deconstruction and the attempts to revise the established canon promoted by feminists and other critical voices in academia. German literary historians Robert Charlier and Günther Lottes reflect on this predominantly political emphasis in what they term the ‘relatively young

2  Svein Gladsø field of canon research’ in their 2009 volume Kanonbildung: Protagonisten und Prozesse der Herstellung kultureller Identität.2 According to Charlier and Lottes, it was understandable, in light of globalism and the focus on reversal of cultural hierarchies, that the new discourse of canon in literature around 1990 became polarised and political.To enrich the understanding of canon formation, making it less ‘political’ and more general, they promoted a connection between the political focus of the 1990s and the older tradition of research in ‘classicism’ as it was practised by Germanists and other literary scholars. Following Charlier and Lottes, to understand the processes and their outcomes –​whenever they take place –​it is necessary to look at canon formation as Herstellung (making) of Klassizität (classicism), and in particular, in the perspective of cultural identity. The understanding of canonisation as identity formation can be found at least implicitly in theatre studies, musicology, and dance studies, and most clearly when the process is identified as a part of nation-​building processes.The notion of classicism is aptly used in all three areas covered by this anthology, though based on the theoretical traditions belonging to each field, rather than the literary one. One important point in the study of the history of canons, stressed by Charlier, is the distinction between canonisation as a contingent and/​or incidental development based on different conditions, on the one hand, and the norm-​based and deliberate production of ‘poets and thinkers by their admirers, critics, academic or media institutions’, on the other hand.3 This opposition is touched upon frequently also in ‘our’ fields when scholars address the core question of how canons come to exist. As we shall see, the study of canons also benefits from a host of other oppositions, ideal types as well as those based on empirical studies. Some of these are touched upon in the German discourse exemplified by the work of Charlier and Lottes, for instance, the opposite poles of Materialer Kanon versus Deutungskanon (the canon as performed vs. the interpretations of the same), Idealer Kanon versus Realer Kanon, and Gruppenkanon versus Institutionelle Kanon, to mention the most recognisable.4 The authors remind the readers that even in the field of literature, one has only recently seen the development of ‘intersubjectively accepted concepts’.5 Written in 1998 as a characterisation of the situation in the productive field of literature studies, this is even more true in the performing arts today. Therefore, the observation made early during our research project that there was a lack of systematic and subject-​specific approach to canon issues within the scholarly fields in question came as no surprise. At the same time, this may seem to be a paradox, considering that certain concepts of canon in fact have been used actively for some time, especially in theatre and music criticism. As a more academic approach was gradually established within the fields of music, theatre, and dance during the 1980s, it was, not surprisingly, musicologists who led the way. Music criticism has for centuries focused on ways to ‘objectify’ music in order to obtain the status of work of art in a much more definite way than within theatre and dance –​especially dance. Scholars seem to agree that a clear-​cut concept of canon did not circulate within music, theatre, and dance in the decades that the anthology covers –​the

The (pre)history of canons  3 late 1700s and the early 1800s. This does not imply an absence of reflection on what we, in hindsight, may designate as canonic processes. Scholars working with canonisation duly point to the conceptual problems dealing with the issue. Using concepts covering similar processes and phenomena (such as ‘masterpieces’ and ‘classics’) has been a recurrent answer to the challenge. Another preferred position, admitting that it may produce anachronisms, is to claim that the processes observed are, in fact, best described and analysed precisely using the concepts of canon and canon formation.This, in turn, urges for the development of a consistent framework, capable of dealing with both historical and contemporary phenomena. As we, the organisers of the conference, chose to ask for contributions covering the role of art criticism and academia in the formation of canons around 1800, this was done exactly in accordance with the latter perspective –​discussing canonisation both before and after the age of explicit formulation of canons. We chose to invite discussions about the turn of the century (around 1800) as a ‘pre-​canonic’ phase, without using a very clear definition of canon or linking it to other similar or overlapping concepts.The ambition was to have contributions discussing the early establishment of frameworks relating to institutions, craftsmanship or aesthetics for what later in the century emerged clearly as canons. In this introduction, we will give a survey over seminal contributions by scholars from different disciplines –​ demonstrating possible approaches to conceptualisation and methodology. This account is also meant to be a backdrop for the reading of the anthology, presenting a rough and tentative genealogy of the theory of canon and canon formation within the disciplines in question. The selection of scholars and theories is done explicitly with the scope of an anthology in mind, and the prime criterion for the selection, in addition to covering the disciplines, has been to have typical and relevant positions represented. As already mentioned, no specific theoretical framing was presented for the purpose of the 2016 conference and the subsequent anthology. The contributors have been invited to utilise whatever understanding of canon and canon formation they might find appropriate. The consequence of such an open approach to the concept of canon is that the individual chapters are to very different degrees based on clear-​cut and formulated understandings of what canonisation means. In any case, the chapters either contribute with accounts of circumstances that led to what we later have recognised as canon, or they describe phenomena that were marginalised and ‘left out’ during the establishment of the hegemony of canons. The thematic scope of the chapters spans the role of performance practices in the formation of canon, canon as ‘idea’ versus canon as manifest repertory, and canon’s dependence on political and ideological bearings (such as nationalism). Also, some of the chapters use the concept of canon referring to artistic phenomena that we today know never reached canonic status. This includes genres and forms that gradually were defined as entertainment (not art proper) or matters that had a character of unpredictability or privacy that did not allow inclusion in a concept of canon.

4  Svein Gladsø

Music As noted earlier, musicology was the scholarly field that first followed in the wake of literary studies in developing a discipline-​specific theory of canonisation. A thematic issue of Critical Inquiry in 1983, which was almost exclusively dedicated to the literary canon, included a chapter with the unassuming title ‘A Few Canonic Variations’ by musicologist Joseph Kerman, which has become a recurrent reference for later studies. The editor of the issue, Robert von Hallberg, pointing to the proliferation of studies on the formation of canon in educational arenas in general, identified a threefold motivation for drawing attention to reflection on canon and its formation:  (1) how do performers influence the formation of canon through their professional choices?, (2)  in which ways do critics and academia construct canons? and (3) in which ways do established canons impinge on teaching and professional training?6 Obviously, these are the questions with a strong relevance to performing arts, and in his article, Joseph Kerman linked the discussion of musical canon to the more general discussion of canons. Kerman did not propose a definition of canon for musicologists, but rather identified some core issues for further analyses of canons –​historic as well as contemporary.The most ‘theoretical’ point presented by Kerman –​and the most controversial –​was his sharp divide between canon and repertory.7 According to Kerman, canons are produced by critics, while repertories are produced by performers/​artists. Of course, the relationship between canon and repertory must be historicised and treated adequately for the field in question, but, to Kerman, the main point was that canon formation presupposes the kind of discursive activity typical of critics. Kerman also emphasised that parts of canons are formed independently of the choices of performers and producers and concert managers. In fact, there are several good examples that composers were added to the canon before they appeared regularly in repertories (Bach and Lully being the most obvious examples). Just as important, Kerman pointed out that the repertories of performers were often very little affected by established canons and the judgements of the critics. To performers and audiences, the market, with its exchanges of supply and demand, was often more important than the opinions of connoisseurs. Furthermore, Kerman emphasised how material factors always affect the formation of canons, which in the field of music has been demonstrated most strikingly when recording technologies occurred, radically changing the conditions for the establishment of canons. And finally, Kerman asked when the use of the concept of canon is adequate at all; strictly speaking, we should not use the notion of canon before the times when repertories started to be supplemented by ‘old’ music, that is, music composed more than 40 years before the present time.With some exceptions (i.e. Lully), this kind of supplementation first happened around 1820–​1830. Before this, according to Kerman, it does not make sense to speak of canon in music. Regardless of discussions about such criteria, Kerman points to important preconditions for real canonisation processes evolving around 1800, and in particular three factors:  (1) the development of the institution

The (pre)history of canons  5 of concerts and of virtuosos, (2) the rise of the bourgeois citizen as audience member, dilettante performer and consumer, and (3) the existence of autonomous composers and critics.8 Together, these factors constitute crucial institutional and social preconditions for canon formation as we know it. As noted, Kerman’s article has become a standard reference for later writings and debates on the issue, especially in musicology. His sharp division between canon and repertory has sparked some debate. To us, the importance of his division lies in the implication that canon is always a construction, an idea, and that the formation process is as interesting as the study of repertories per se. Ideological, institutional, and technological contexts and conditions can never be ignored. Part of the debate around Kerman’s position concerns how this context is accounted for in the use of the canon concept, as seen, for instance, in Marcia Citron’s 1993 book Gender and Musical Canon, which took Kerman’s position as one of its points of departure. Citron’s main concern was how female artists and composers have been marginalised, historically and in contemporary education. A lot of Kerman’s perspectives are embedded in Citron’s analyses, but Citron does not accept every tenet of Kerman, neither the sharp canon‒repertory division nor his explicit use of canon as an ‘idea’. Citron finds Kerman’s division too sharp and untenable in practice because not only critics are responsible for the development of canons. Even if one accepts canon as an ‘idea’, one cannot ignore the contribution of artists, educators, scholars, and admirers to the shaping of that idea. In the end, she chooses not to part with what she sees as an established parlance where repertories simply are referred to as canon; canon is ‘used rather freely in cultural discourse to mean a repertoire’.9 Trying to establish a kind of continuity with Kerman’s seminal text, Citron’s solution is a categorisation where canon becomes an overarching category, which, in turn, has a repertory canon and a ‘disciplinary’ canon as its sub-​ species. The latter, the disciplinary canon, encompasses most of what Kerman includes in his definition of the ‘ideal’ canon. However, Citron’s disciplinary canon embraces much more than that, as her category refers to goals, methodologies, research conventions, institutions, social structures, belief systems, underlying theories, audience, language, subjects for study, and various other parameters that shape and define a discipline’s self-​ view of what is standard, acceptable, and even desirable. These characteristics describe normative, prescriptive, idealizing, and excluding functions of canons, and they pertain to both types.10 One might object that such a comprehensive and at the same time tentative account may face problems as an entry to practical or scholarly studies; for all practical and academic purposes, a canon must be conceptualised more accurately than this. However, Citron hints at one practical implementation of her all-​encompassing account as she points to the important relationship between core agents (using literature as an example); one may characterise ‘the principal canon-​making group in literature as a professional‒commercial coalition’.11

6  Svein Gladsø This is an important reminder that canons are very rarely produced by ‘any one individual or organisation’.12 A third contributor to the theory of canon in musicology is William Weber, who summed up some of his earlier writings in his 1999 article ‘The History of Musical Canons’. At the outset of his article, Weber claims that earlier contributions (including those of both Kerman and Citron) are too concerned with contemporary issues.13 Weber underlines the heterogeneity of the history of canon formation and the need to approach the issues systematically and empirically. His contribution to a nuanced treatment is to propose three phases and, accordingly, three historically specific types of canon which, to different degrees, have existed through the centuries. One early type of canon was the scholarly canon with roots in antiquity and with little contact with pedagogical and performative practices.14 The second type was the pedagogical canon that framed compositional practices from the sixteenth century on through the emphasis on the emulation of earlier masters and works.The third type of canon was the performing canon, which manifested itself in repertories and, according to Weber, was and is the most ‘significant and critical aspect of musical canon’.15 With that, Weber clearly departs from Kerman’s insistence on the importance of the ‘ideal’ canon. But Weber also expands the performing canon, making it overlap with the canon of Kerman by claiming that the performing canon is ‘more than just a repertory; it is also a critical and ideological force’.16 Weber, like Citron, is critical of Kerman, who he thinks underestimates performances and the role of performers. In the debate about the canon‒repertory division, Weber seems to bridge the different opinions posing a synthesis. Following Weber, the process of canon formation typically moves from learning the canon to performing repertory to the development of a complete, critical, and ideological canon. Thus, canon becomes (as with Citron) an overarching category with several possible manifestations. The chosen positions from the 1980s and 1990s within the field of musicology show a variety of factors that should inform any study of canon formation processes, both in historical oriented studies and in analyses of contemporary matters.This includes the fundamental clarification of different types of canons, the relationship between canon and repertory, and the relationship between professional, academic/​critical and commercial agents. And contributions from the last decades demonstrate that different approaches to these core issues are still very much alive. Anselma Lanzendörfer assumes in her recent book (2017) on announcement forms of concert programmes that today there is an overall consensus on the fact that canons and repertories are different entities, although definitions vary considerably.17 In our view, the definitions (still) diverge to an extent that we barely can speak of a common understanding even at this level. In her historical study, Lanzendörfer herself leans on William Weber, not at least because Weber’s prime category is the performative canon, which in his case encompasses concert programmes, performed repertories and their public reception. In addition, Lanzendörfer refers to what she thinks is a fundamental

The (pre)history of canons  7 difference between an understanding of canons shaped, respectively, by production and reception factors. Implicit in this claim is that either position gives the better explanation of formation processes, and Lanzendörfer, in accordance with the topic of her research, leans to the reception side. Consequently, she openly takes a stand against the views of another prevalent contributor during the last decades, Karol Berger, who claims that for Western art music, composers are prime makers of canon18 –​a comprehension Lanzendörfer finds utterly narrow. We will return to Berger, suffice to say at this point that both Lanzendörfer and Berger represent scholars that have made the issue of canonisation more consistently part of a broader, more general, debate on the writing of music history as such. A couple of academic conferences during the last two decades with subsequent publications within the field of music may serve as a demonstration of this point. The 950 pages book entitled Der Kanon der Musik: Theorie und Geschichte. Ein Handbuch from 2012 is an ambitious attempt to recapitulate the discussions taken place over the last 20 years.19 The epithet ‘Handbuch’ points to the wide range of topics covered, embracing theoretical as well as empirical and historical contributions. However, even as the book has a long theoretical introductory chapter, no real synthesis or attempt to establish some sort of ‘state of the art’ of the understanding of canonisation processes is presented.This may well be the flip side of the concept of ‘Handbuch’; the different views of the contributors are allowed to stand out in all their clarity. Some of the ‘unsolved’ controversies revealed in this edition are about strongly intertwined issues like the relevance of value judgements, who are the prime agents of canonisation and the specific role of academia. It is in his contribution to the volume, Fünf Thesen zum Kanon: Versuch einer konzeptuellen Klärung, that the aforementioned Karol Berger develops his theory of canonisation. Here, Berger not only insists on the primacy of the composer as the authoritative instance in musical canon formation (as Lanzendörfer opposes to), but he also maintains that popularity never (in itself) is important as the basis for a canon. A canon is a manifestation of exemplary artistic practices: ‘The most significant works in the tradition of art music, the ones showing in exemplary fashion the capabilities of this practice, constitute its canon’.20 This has important consequences for music historiography. Canon not only makes it possible to write a narrative history of the tradition of art music  –​which should be more than a listing of archival material. According to Berger, it is the prime task of music historiography to accept the authoritative judgements of this tradition and convey a narrative corresponding to the norms of the tradition. This was a view that came to be strongly contested by others, as we will see. Berger’s point of view is not directly contradicted in other chapters of Der Kanon der Musik, but there are some chapters representing far more critical positions than Berger’s in the book, for instance, Peter Hentschel’s chapter ‘Über Wertung, Kanon und Musikwissenschaft’. Hentschel is highly sceptical of the role of academics in the rehabilitation and formation of canons. He accepts,

8  Svein Gladsø of course, canons as cultural and historical facts, but, in principle, the necessary historicising of aesthetic judgements precludes the formation of canons, at least as a scholarly exercise.21 However, it is not difficult to find scholars advocating an active role in canon formation on behalf of the academic community, especially when it comes to popular music studies. In this sub-​discipline, one finds an ideal of musicology not only deconstructing canons, but also actively shaping new ones.Vesa Kurkela and Lauri Väkevä’s De-​Canonizing Music History (2009) may serve as a typical example of such scholarly works.22 Here, canon is considered a ‘vehicle’ for contemporary musicology, not in a confirmative manner on behalf of the tradition as with Berger, but in order to ‘frame new study objects, as well as a chance to re-​interpret previous disciplinary truths’.23 Although Kurkela and Väkevä do not give a clear definition of canonisation , their understanding is more or less revealed through the identification of scholarly work with canonisation. According to them, a scholar’s competence can in fact be measured through his/​her ability to build canons: ‘In fact, this is exactly what took place in musicology when “new,” or critical musicology began to shake the system in the 1980s, redefining music as an object of scholarly study, with numerous new canons emerging’.24 One might think that the authors wrongly align the process of bringing phenomena in from the margins with canonisation as such –​two aspects that, in our view, need to be held apart. Anyway, there is some distance between this view of canonisation as belonging ‘inherently to all scholarly (and without doubt, artistic) efforts’25 to, for instance, Peter Hentschel’s sharp division between discourses. Returning to Karol Berger, the most thorough contestation of Berger’s views on canonisation might be the dialogue between him and Richard Taruskin in The Journal of Musicology in 2013.The journal dedicated two issues to the dissemination from a three-​day conference in February 2012, ‘After the End of Music History’, in honour of Taruskin.26 Berger’s views are presented in an article paraphrasing the title of the conference ‘The Ends[!]‌of Music History, or: The Old Masters in the Supermarket of Cultures’.27 Taruskin responds with some resignation in his ‘Agents and Causes and Ends, Oh My’28 –​suggesting that Berger places himself in a tradition back to the New German School in the nineteenth century, with its strong belief in aesthetic autonomy and the authority of composers over consumers (the latter point is, in fact, explicitly stated by Berger, as we have noted earlier).29 Taruskin takes a firm stand in the dispute on where musicologists have to search for canons when he sums up: ‘It is after all critics, and scholars, Karol Berger included, who in practice determine canons. Willy-​nilly. We cannot help it’.30 This may sound like a support of Kurkela and Väkevä’s ‘we cannot avoid constructing new canons’. But Taruskin is, in our view, much more concerned with the challenges that canons  –​generated by composers, performers, critics or scholars –​have for the writing of music history than Kurkela and Väkevä’s more ‘supportive’ position implies. Using the aforementioned contributions as a backdrop for an understanding of canonisation in contemporary musicology, the impression is that there still

The (pre)history of canons  9 exist a host of different approaches available for the music scholar. It will be fair to say, however, that none of the contributors to this anthology openly take as their starting point the most ‘radical’ positions advocated by, for instance, Berger, or Kurkela and Väkevä.

Dance The title of dance scholars Melanie Bales and Karen Eliot’s book Dance on Its Own Terms:  Histories and Methodologies (2013) illustrates the aforementioned point that theories of canonisation need to be founded on field-​specific facts and circumstances. Eliot states, in her chapter ‘Dancing the Canon in Wartime’, that ‘the circumstances dictating the creation and re-​creation of dance might press us to look closer at the distinctions between various art forms, and to query the mechanics and politics of canonisation, which do not operate uniformly across the disciplines’.31 However, even when acknowledging crucial differences between the art forms, the contributions by scholars from the fields of literature and music have certainly been of some importance in adjacent areas. This is evident in one of the more comprehensive treatments of canonisation in the field of dance, Johanna Laakkonen’s 2009 dissertation ‘Canon and Beyond’. Even as she states that the studies in the literature and music have been used ‘simply as a starting-​point’ for her own reflections, she relies on Joseph Kerman and Marcia Citron when it comes to the understanding of canon, the relationship between types of canon and the understanding of similar phenomena like ‘masterpieces’ and ‘classics’. Laakkonen points to Kerman’s basic division between canon and repertory, but, in our opinion, without really reflecting on the specificities of his understanding and without using it actively.32 After mentioning his definition, Laakkonen presents her own more ‘pragmatic’ and dance-​oriented definition of canon as ‘works which stay in the repertoire year after year, individual artists and art works about which we repeatedly read in books, scholarly writings and anthologies, and well-​known phenomena such as the Ballets Russes’.33 Obviously, this is canon seen as works and artists, not Kerman’s ‘ideal’ canon. Furthermore, Laakkonen refers to, and supports, the division between repertorial and disciplinary canon as proposed by Citron, but she also emphasises the close connection between the two. Laakkonen also underlines the role of scholarly work bringing historic works to light. She returns to the role of scholarship in the formation processes as she points to four factors guiding the analysis of canon formation in dance: (1) the importance of documentation, (2) the existence of scholarly centres, (3) the role of innovation and (4) the role of academia. The importance of documentation and the role of academia is illustrative of the overall orientation of the work of Laakkonen. She analyses the processes that have led to existing canons and the possibilities of revising canons by scrutinising not only existing canons, but also the possibilities of creating ‘new’ canons: ‘the scholarly institutions may influence what becomes canonical by bringing to light works which have not been accessible, thus exposing them to evaluation

10  Svein Gladsø and criticism’.34 We recognise this position as strongly resembling that of musicologists Kurkela and Väkevä. One important factor underlined by Laakkonen is the interplay between agents in canonic processes. In assessing the roles of scholars, critics, and performers, it is important to keep in mind that connections between agents must be taken into consideration. Laakkonen leans on the understanding of canon formation as the ‘network of common interests’ coined by Jane Tompkins in her 1985 book Sensational Designs:  The Cultural Work of American Fiction, 1790–​1860.35 Again, this is a reminder that processes of canon formation have to be studied in context, as emphasised by several contributors mentioned earlier. Also, the focus on networks is in line with, for instance, Marcia Citron’s claim that canon is the outcome of ‘professional‒commercial coalitions’, and William Weber’s statement that canon is the result of the interplay between several agents. Following Laakkonen, the formation process typically alternates between education, training and performative practices until the development of a complete, full-​fledged canon is achieved. A parallel to musicologists’ contributions to canonisation of popular music can be found in Sherril Dodds’ Dancing on the Canon (2011), where the conditions of popular dance, both as a social practice and an academic discipline, are scrutinised. Using a cultural theory approach, she studies the value systems surrounding (and produced by) popular dance, aiming at bringing the field to higher esteem. The role of academia is crucial in that sense. However, Dodds does not explicitly seek to establish new canons. Her project is to reveal and discuss the value systems lying behind, for instance, canonisation processes, and, in the field of dance, the dominance of theatre art dance in dance scholarship and in the cultural hierarchy more generally. A related study analysing canonisation agents is found in an anthology from the same year as Sherril Dodds’ book, namely Dance and the Formation of Norden: Emergences and Struggles edited by Danish scholar Karen Vedel. In particular, Petri Hoppu’s chapter on the formation of the field of folk dance in Norden is informative regarding the understanding of agencies and values.36 Fundamentally, canon is understood as repertories,‘selected dance repertoires’.37 This is logical as the whole process of establishing a folk dance field is manifested through the selection of certain dances and the subsequent compilation and publication of a body of dances. Hoppu deduces the criteria which were active during the selections (styles, forms, and formations), thereby pointing to what might have been developed as an ‘idea’ of a canon. However, the premise of the presentation is that fundamentally canons are repertories. What gives Hoppu’s account added value is the way he operationalises the canonisation processes through the inclusion of a Bourdieuan perspective, placing folk dance teachers, instructors and members of the important folk dance organisations within a frame of Bourdieuan cultural capital. Scholars are not given a prominent role in the analysis; however, Hoppu aptly notes that the leaders of the non-​ governmental organisations partly had academic background. In that sense, they brought with them certain moral and aesthetic values which, in turn, favoured

The (pre)history of canons  11 the selection of theatrical folk dances over rural dances.38 One might say that the canonisation process was mirroring an already established canon.

Theatre Turning to the field of theatre, the situation seems a little different from the areas covered so far. The concept of canon is frequently used, but rarely with reference to an explicit theory. Again, it is important to have in mind the specificities of the field in question. The fact that Western theatre has been text-​based during the period of which we are speaking may explain why canonisation processes for theatre have not been a transnational phenomenon to the same degree as in music and dance. The classics from antiquity –​Molière, Racine, Shakespeare, Goethe and so on  –​have been translated, adapted, and presented on national stages according to shifting aesthetic movements; however, these plays have served just as much as models for the creation of national repertories. Theatre has played an important role in nation-​building processes, and one would expect to find studies of canon formation that are approached from that perspective. An illustrative example is Yael Zarhy-​Levo and Freddie Rokem’s study on Israeli theatre.39 According to Zarhy-​Levo and Rokem, canonisation is all about plays remaining in repertory and being performed. To achieve this, works have to be supported by critics and academia and receive prizes. Given the Israeli context, this means that dramatists must have related to the political and nationalist project of the state of Israel in some way or another. In addition to –​and independent of –​the ideological tenet of the approach of Zarhy-​Levo and Rokem, their analysis implies a ‘quantitative’ approach where the fact that few plays are performed more than once becomes a prerequisite for the proclamation of a canon. The flip side of this understanding is the assumption that a play ‘will ultimately be canonised by being performed again’ (i.e. by being produced a second time).40 This quantitative approach might, in our view, lead to the overlooking of other decisive factors in canon formation, especially factors seen in the thinking of Joseph Kerman and others who accept canons based on not only manifest repertories. Modern introductions in theatre historiography seem to indicate that canon issues as such are not prevailing in theatre studies nowadays. In Patrice Pavis’s widely used Dictionary of the Theatre, canon is not mentioned, neither as an entry on its own nor under topics like repertory or classicism (i.e. classical dramaturgy).41 In Thomas Postlewait’s acknowledged introduction to theatre studies from 2009 canon is not a separate issue either.42 This may be understandable, given the broad scope of Postlewait’s book and its focus on other, more pressing, aspects of theatre studies of our time: the distinctive characteristics of theatre as opposed to other art forms, the craft of the theatre historian, the challenges raised by scant sources and the complexity of the theatrical context. Given such a scope, dramatic canons and their formation may be seen as a rather ‘narrow’ topic subsumable to broader questions concerning the relationship between theatre and politics, a subject that, in fact, is aptly dealt with in Postlewait’s book.

12  Svein Gladsø Thus, the lack of clearly demarcated treatments of canonisation does not mean that canonic perspectives are ignored. Rather, as seen by Postlewait, they seem to be integrated in treatments of periodisation, nationalism, ideology, and  –​ not surprisingly –​genre development. Steve Wilmer, the editor and co-​author of the volume containing the aforementioned chapter by Zarhy-​Levo and Rokem, discusses several aspects of the writing of theatre history, most of them dealing with inclusion and exclusion (by geography, ethnicity and aesthetics). Wilmer treats canonisation as both a means to and an outcome of the writing of national theatre histories (and the formation of nations), and even mentions canonisation of historical and folk drama.43 This illustrates the use of canon encompassing more than the ‘classic’ canon, but highly relevant in national contexts. Another noticeable use of the concept of canon in theatre studies occurs in the same volume when Willmar Sauter, in his treatment of Swedish theatre history, coins the growing importance of the director during the turn of the century (i.e. around 1900) as a canonising of profession.44 In fact, such a use of the concept is on a par with the understanding of canon as consisting of works of art and artists. Sauter himself points to the parallel ‘emergence of the powerful conductor of symphony orchestras and the cult of personalities such as Arturo Toscanini’.45 Approaching the development of theatre in Europe around 1800 with canon in mind, reflection on the status and role of the classical rule-​based theatre and the subsequent theatre reforms on the continent is inevitable. Drawing the long lines backwards, Rudi Graf points to the fact that the Aristotelian heritage played a crucial role in the establishment of a secular literature in general: ‘In this context, Aristotle rises to be the ruling figure in the aesthetic discourse of Early Modern Age; facing the diversity of texts of a literary canon, the authority of his poetic theory was to represent the norm’.46 However, it may be claimed, at least for the theatre, that this canonisation process became more of a normative framework for the development of genre hierarchies and aesthetic rules than the development of a host of canonic works. Also, the eighteenth century witnessed the struggle between les anciens and les modernes, resulting in the weakening of the classical norms. In the German states, the ensuing theatre reforms (led by Christian Wolff, Johann Christoph Gottsched, and others) came to be about professionalisation, institutionalisation, and the creation of a ‘national’ theatre with a strong moral commitment. It is true that in the German states this movement resulted in the replacement of classical French plays with Shakespearean (in German translation) and German plays by August Wilhelm Iffland, Friedrich Ludwig Schröder and August von Kotzebue, to mention the most industrious ones.47 By the end of the eighteenth century these dramatists remained part of the repertory for quite some time, and in that sense may deserve the status of canonic playwrights.48 Erika Fischer-​ Lichte, however, points to the fact that diversity was the norm long after the programmatic declarations of theatre as einer moralischen Anstalt, and she claims that not enough ‘new’ plays were produced to realise the new programme.49 In fact, one could doubt whether creating a German canon was one of the

The (pre)history of canons  13 main goals of the German theatre reforms at all. As Roland Krebs indicates, in his analysis of Gotthold Ephraim Lessing’s Hamburgischen Dramaturgie, the Normierungsprogramm by theatre reformers and critics before and around 1800 emphasised the education of theatre leaders, actors, and audiences.50 Repertory certainly played a part in these efforts, but mostly to raise the consciousness of the relationship between genre-​specific roles and acting styles.51 To sum up, it would be difficult to speak of a canon in a strong sense by that time, but the demarcation of national theatre cultures and the existence of supporting aesthetic programmes could be seen as preconditions for the establishment of real national canons that evolved later, during the nineteenth century.

The chapters of the anthology As mentioned earlier, the contributions to this anthology relate quite differently to the scholarly discourse of canonic processes.The chapters give different area-​specific accounts of circumstances that led to what we later have termed ‘canon’. In many cases, they are describing phenomena that were marginalised and simply ‘left out’ during the establishment of the later hegemonies of canon regimes –​phenomena that, accordingly, have disappeared in the writings of the mainstream history of arts. Here, we provide a short account of the individual chapters, grouped by some unifying themes. Canon formation In Penelope Cave’s ‘Meeting the masters:  Repertory choices for young ladies’, Cave takes as her starting point Williams Weber’s theory of canon. Cave demonstrates how Weber’s theory, with its focus on canon as an ideological force, together with the importance of performances and the musical choices of teachers, gives insight into the dissemination and popularity of key composers of the time (Georg Friedrich Händel being the prime example). Cave demonstrates how several factors, such as editions, celebrations, and economic interests, work together in the formation process. In a similar manner, Dóra Kiss points to the importance of political, moral and bodily ideals in canon formation processes. In her chapter ‘Canonisation of the danced minuet: A process of several centuries’, she explains the complex process of codification of the belle danse, especially the minuet. According to Kiss, the high level of abstraction of the minuet was one reason behind the success of this codification, but she also shows that the process of canonisation depended on the representation of the dance form in different media. Overall, the canonisation of the minuet, after its first codification, went through several adjustments as a result of interpretations and re-​creations, and Kiss claims that there existed one original canon and several secondary canons of the minuet during the eighteenth century. Another chapter demonstrating how canon formation depends on aesthetic, political and moral judgments is Meike Wagner’s ‘On the other side of the

14  Svein Gladsø canon –​August von Kotzebue as popular playwright and controversial public persona’. Here, the author shows how the enormously popular Kotzebue was used actively in the establishment of a German canon in the decades after 1800. However, this was done by explicitly defining Kotzebue as a representative of what the German culture had to get rid of in order to establish a national canon. Given the ‘negativity’ of this specific process, it seems apt, as Wagner does, to use the concept of ‘negative canonisation’ as coined by the literary scholar Simone Winko.52 Wagner shows how Kotzebue’s plays incessantly challenged bourgeois conventions and immorality, and how he valued the judgements of ordinary people over those of critics and connoisseurs. He even denounced the notion of a German national character, preferring for himself the role of a cosmopolitan. The assassination of Kotzebue in 1819 can be seen as the ultimate result of this antagonism between himself and a growing nationalist culture. It was not until the 1970s that the understanding of Kotzebue as a dramatist and cultural agent was re-​evaluated, demonstrating the steadfastness of the construction of canons. Canon at home The chapter ‘Traces of dance and social life: A dance book and its context’ by Elizabeth Svarstad utilises an understanding of canon extending beyond the repertory of professionals. The canon on which Svarstad is reflecting is surely connected with professional practices and international/​ continental trends, especially through the dancing-​masters conveying the dances. Her main object, however, is the repertory of country dances and the minuet (used primarily for educational purposes) in some Norwegian communities.The aim of the chapter is not only to establish the dancing practices of the time, but also to identify the function of dance as an arena for social control and appropriation of etiquette. These aspects are accessed mainly through the study of dance books.The dance books had practical purposes, as tools for memorising the dances, but they may also be seen as part of a codification process contributing to canonisation. Also focusing on the domestic sphere, Eva Hov, in her chapter ‘Outside canon: Anonymous music and informal cultural activities in Trondheim around 1800’, describes how canonic processes excluded some of the music that was important in the life of people around 1800, for instance, music accompanying dance. Using William Weber as the main theoretical reference, Hov demonstrates how the emphasis on factors like anonymity, informality, functionality and adaptability to social circumstances has relegated certain forms to oblivion. Hov documents this through archival studies, giving the forms a proper context and pointing to their relevance. Even more confined to the private sphere, the chapter ‘The private playlist? Repertory in Norwegian eighteenth-​ century musical clocks’ by Mats Krouthén covers the use of music in a field definitively in the margins of music history. However, the choice of repertory in the musical clocks reflects a music culture and the position of music in this culture. Krouthén’s aim is to shed

The (pre)history of canons  15 light on the soundscape to which these clocks contributed, and how the clocks channelled musical norms and tastes into the daily life of wealthy families during the eighteenth century. The repertory of the clocks encompasses popular tunes and hymns from different sources, and Krouthén shows how Norwegian clocks relate to the greater field of ‘canonic’ clock repertory in Europe. As one of several of its kind in the anthology, the chapter exemplifies the use of canon as a concept within a highly specialised area of musical culture. In the margins and on the move The chapter ‘The hybrid child: The preconditions, dissemination and enduring popularity of equestrian drama’ by Ellen Karoline Gjervan deals with a theatrical form born in the romantic era and experiencing enormous success all over Europe. Today it is relegated to a marginalised place in most histories of the theatre, and Gjervan reflects on the reason both for its success and for its falling into oblivion. According to her, one reason for its trans-​European success was its hybridity. Censorship created a market for hybrid genres based primarily on action and spectacle, and the equestrian drama was one of several romantic genres relying on such a combination. The genre soon developed its standard repertory containing, for example, exotic and gothic styles. The phenomenon came into being in a horse-​powered society and benefited from the existence of wars and the accompanying war culture. Some equestrian dramas came into being as a sort of living news report of the war events. As the novelty of the portrayed events would have worn off over time –​transforming the piece out of the newsreel and into the realms of historical re-​enactments –​this may have contributed to the gradual loss of popularity of the genre. Another hybrid form of entertainment is covered in Anne Margrete Fiskvik’s chapter ‘Itinerant female performers in the Nordic sphere 1760‒1774: Traceability and visibility’ –​the repertory of itinerant artists (musicians, singers, acrobats and dancers) travelling all over Europe in the latter part of the eighteenth century. Their hybrid forms of entertainment have been regarded as of little consequence and interest to mainstream dance and theatre research. The reason for their marginalisation is discussed in Fiskviks chapter, which, above all, focuses on the fact that many of these artists were women, and that they combined the role of diverse professional careers with engagements as dance teachers. Taking the research of Lynn Matluck Brooks’ Women’s Work. Making Dance in Europe before 1800 (2007), Fiskvik looks more closely into some of the female performers who travelled in the Nordic countries during the latter part of the eighteenth century. The women addressed in the chapter were active as performers between 1750 and 1780 and include both group and solo performers, such as De Preussiske Kunstnerinder (The Prussian female artists) and three ‘Mesdames’: Madame Stuart, Madame Scaglia and Madame Nürenbach. At stake are questions about repertories and audience reception as well as the logistics of daily life.

16  Svein Gladsø National canons and repertories The last four chapters (­chapters 10–​13) deal with canonisation within different national contexts, and the manifestation of canons through the deliberate shaping of national repertories. Maria-​ Christina Mur’s chapter ‘Vittorio Alfieri’s  tramelogedia Abéle:  A physiognomic reading of a marginalised play by a canonic author’ is about the Italian dramatist Vittorio Alfieri and his critical and dramatic work. Alfieri is hardly acknowledged as a dramatist outside Italy. Mur shows how Alfieri took part in the project of establishing an Italian theatre on its own terms, and a part of these efforts was his development of a specific form of tragedy, the tramelogedia. This was based on contemporary widespread ideas of physiognomy, and Mur discusses the relationship between the tramelogedia of Alfieri and the more well-​known melodrama. According to Mur, Alfieri and his works are ‘part of every Italian school, every theatre historian’s and literary critic’s canon’. Still, his plays are rarely staged, which may illustrate Joseph Kerman’s point that there is a difference between canon and repertory. Placed within another national context, the next two chapters discuss the tension between different aesthetic ideals during an era when national repertories were at stake. In the chapter ‘Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar:  A rejected Singspiel  performed’, Annabella Skagen writes about Oehlenschläger’s play, which was rejected by the royal theatre in Copenhagen in 1804 but chosen for production in the Norwegian province. Skagen refers to the alleged shortcomings of the play according to the board of censors, and proceeds by reflecting on the reasons why this judgement by the custodian of theatrical standards did not affect other theatre owners. A core argument of Skagen is that we have to understand canon as an expression of standards relatively detached from specific contexts. Accordingly, we could expect dramatic societies to look less at canons, and more at the value of entertainment and the social benefit of its members in the choice of plays. In the case of Freyas Altar, the staging of the play was clearly motivated by social benefits, even as the production in Trondheim in 1814 (the prime example in the chapter) was managed by a public theatre. This theatre was, however, a public theatre with a strong relation to its community. So, institutional framing is not everything, and Skagen reminds us that we must look at a play or a theatrical event within its real historical framing and local context to assess its relevance. This is true even when, as in this case, the play was viewed as a slip in the hailed Adam Oehlenschläger’s powers of judgement. Partly using the same empirical material as Skagen, Randi Margrete Selvik discusses ‘forgotten’ music to the same Singspiel by the Danish writer Adam Oehlenschläger. In her chapter ‘Forgotten music. Early Norwegian composers and Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar’, she explains how the play was rejected by the Royal Theatre in Copenhagen but was performed in the provinces of the twin state of Denmark–​Norway with music by three different composers. Selvik’s aim is to ‘elevate the marginalised composers’, and she shows how their reputation

The (pre)history of canons  17 and aesthetic preferences and the simplicity of their music have placed them among several marginalised composers from the period. Their work existed in the tension between ambitions of producing a national repertory and the dependency on common European stylistic ideals  –​a tension played out around the changing assessment of the Singspiel as a genre. Selvik describes the composers’ musical careers and output in more detail to give a broader context to the social and musical milieus where they lived and worked –​a context also strongly informed by the tension between dilettantism and professionalism. In later assessments of the three composers, the professional Peter Eberg has been ranked lower than the dilettantes Hans Hagerup Falbe and Lars Møller Ibsen. Selvik discusses the continuities and discontinuities between the assessments of the time and the composers’ marginalised position in later Norwegian music history by using the theory of musical canon as a mirror through which their musical production is seen. Moving some decades ahead but remaining within the same geographical area and under the same perspective, in the chapter ‘Questioning the canons of Ibsen’s theatre: Re-​searching the relevance of Ibsen’s theatre repertory (1852–​ 1862)’, we are faced with the same need to re-​evaluate earlier interpretations as in the two former chapters. Jon Nygaard discusses some paradoxes in earlier research on Henrik Ibsen’s successes and failures. Initially, Nygaard points to the fact that the alleged influence from renowned classics like Shakespeare, Oehlenschläger and Holberg resulted in plays by Ibsen that by the same research tradition have been deemed weak and less important. In accordance with such a view, earlier research also claims that Ibsen’s years in Bergen and Oslo (Christiania) from 1852 to 1862 were a waste of time, as he mostly got to work with ‘inferior’ plays. According to Nygaard, these paradoxes stem from a fundamental misunderstanding as to which plays were the real ‘classics’ at the time Ibsen learned about theatre and wrote his early plays. Nygaard’s core argument is that what we today understand as classics and canonised works were not classics and canonised works during Ibsen’s time. He proceeds by showing that the Danish vaudevilles and French farces and musical comedies with which Ibsen became acquainted and from which he learned the trade were of high quality and in fact made Ibsen a ‘classic’ of modern drama.We have to study the actual repertory in view of its contemporary conditions in the development of the theatre, not in light of what we now, in retrospect, perceive as the canon.

Notes 1 The project Performing arts between dilettantism and professionalism: Music, theatre and dance in the Norwegian public sphere 1770–​1850 was financed by the Research Council of Norway and was initiated by scholars at the Faculty of Humanities at Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU) (see www.ntnu.no/parts/). Three conferences were staged (in 2012, 2013 and 2016).The project gradually moved from a primarily Nordic perspective to dealing with issues of more common European relevance, as demonstrated in this anthology.

18  Svein Gladsø 2 ‘der vergleichsweise jungen Kanonforschung’. Charlier & Lottes, Kanonbildung, 7 (author’s translation. All further translations by this author, unless otherwise indicated). The book edited by Charlier and Lottes may be read as a status report after some years of educational reforms in Germany, facing a new multicultural society. See also Wiesmüller’s ‘Die Kanondebatte’ and Heydenbrand, Kanon Macht Kultur. 3 ‘In letzerem Fall würden Dichter oder Denker von ihrenVerehrern, Literaturkritikern, akademischen oder medialen Institutionen zu Klassikern gemacht.’ Charlier, ‘Klassikermacher’, 51 (emphasis in original). 4 Anz, ‘Einführung’,  3–​4. 5 ‘intersubjektiv verbindliche Begriffe’, Anz, ibid., 3. 6 von Hallberg, ‘Introduction’, iii. 7 Kerman, ‘Canonic Variations’, 112, 114. 8 Ibid., 111. 9 Citron, Gender, 17. 10 Ibid., 19. 11 Ibid., 20. 12 Ibid., 19. 13 Weber, ‘The History’, 337. 14 Ibid., 339. 15 Ibid., 340. 16 Ibid. 17 ‘Darüber, dass Kanon nicht mit Repertoire gleichzusetzen sei, herrscht grundsätzlich Einigkeit, wenngleich die Begründungen zum Teil stark voneinander abweichen.’ Lanzendörfer, Name –​ Nummer –​ Titel, 50. 18 ‘es [ist] Komponisten, deren Urteil im Hinblick auf den Kanon das entscheidende ist’, Berger, ‘Fünf Thesen zum Kanon’, 49. 19 Pietschmann and Wald-​Fuhrmann, Der Kanon der Musik. A conference staged at the Orff-​Zentrum in Münich in 2008 was the starting point for this book. 20 Here cited from Berger’s later article in English on the same topic. Berger, ‘The Ends of Music History’, 188. 21 Hentschel, ‘Über Wertung, Kanon und Musikwissenschaft’, 78, 80. 22 Kurkela and Väkevä, De-​Canonizing Music History. The anthology was based on papers given at the first De-​Canonizing Music History Symposium at Sibelius Academy in Helsinki, 2007. 23 Ibid., ix. 24 Ibid., vi. 25 Ibid., viii. 26 Steichen, ‘Introduction’, 183. 27 Berger, ‘The Ends of Music History’.The article is a continuation and a re-​working of his earlier mentioned German ‘Fünf Thesen zum Kanon’. The current article (‘The Ends of Music History’) is also published as ‘Vom Ende der Musikgeschichte, oder:  Die Alten Meister im Supermarkt der Kulturen’ in Calella and Urbanek’s Historische Musikwissenschaft: Grundlagen und Perspektiven, 245–​54. 28 Taruskin, ‘Agents and Causes and Ends, Oh My’. 29 Ibid., 280. 30 Ibid., 281. 31 Eliot, ‘Dancing the Canon’, 13.

The (pre)history of canons  19 32 Laakkonen, Canon and Beyond, 25. In fact, Laakkonen renders Kerman rather imprecisely, for instance, when she states that he ‘defines’ canon as ‘an enduring exemplary collection of books, buildings, and paintings authorised in some way for contemplation, admiration, interpretation and determination of value’. She disregards the fact that this is Kerman’s account of a designation used ‘in the other arts’, which musicians are ‘uneasy’ about. This is the reason why Kerman, as we have seen, presents another definition. Kerman, ‘Canonic Variations’, 107. 33 Laakkonen, Canon and Beyond, 26. 34 Ibid.,  28–​29. 35 Ibid., 27. 36 Hoppu, ‘National Dances and Popular Education’. 37 Ibid., 28. 38 Ibid., 47. 39 Zarhy-​Levo and Rokem, ‘The Creation of a Canon’. 40 Ibid., 193. 41 Pavis, Dictionary. 42 Postlewait, Theatre Historiography. 43 Willmer, ‘National Theatre Histories’, 24, 26. 44 Sauter, ‘Swedish Perspectives’, 40. 45 Ibid., 41. 46 ‘In diesem Kontext steigt Aristoteles zur ästhetischen Großmacht der frühen Neuzeit auf; die Autorität seiner Poetik soll gegenüber der Vielfalt der Texte einem literarischen Kanon die Regel geben.’ Graf, Das Theater im Literaturstaat, 21. 47 The role of Kotzebue as a ‘negative canon’ is dealt with by Meike Wagner in this anthology.The concept of Negativkanonisierung is taken from Simone Winko.Winko, ‘Negativkanonisierung’. 48 Ibid., 329. 49 Fischer-​Lichte, ‘Zur Einleitung’, 12–​14. Peter Heßelmann also concludes that a great variety of genres were still the norm by the end of the century, both at professional theatres and in the dramatic societies run by dilettantes. Heßelmann, ‘Bühnen in Taschenformat’,  515. 50 Krebs, ‘Die frühe Theaterkritik’. See also Heßelmann, Gereinigtes Theater?, 422–​3, where he emphasises the role of the theatre in the education and formation of the new bourgeois citizens. This happens, though, with the maintenance of great diversity of genres, from the old Harlekiniaden to the new sentimental Trauerspiele. 51 Ibid., 481. 52 Winko, ‘Negativkanonisierung’.

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20  Svein Gladsø Bloom, Harold. The Western Canon: The Books and School of the Ages. New York: Harcourt Brace, 1994. Brooks, Lynn Matluck. Women’s Work. Making Dance in Europe before 1800. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 2007. Calella, Michele, and Nikolaus Urbanek, eds. Historische Musikwissenschaft: Grundlagen und Perspektiven. Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler Verlag, 2013. Charlier, Robert. ‘Klassikermacher. Goethes Berliner “Agenten” der literariscshen Kanonbildung’. In Kanonbildung: Protagonisten und Prozesse der Herstellung kultureller Identität, edited by Robert Charlier and Günther Lottes, 34–​69. Hannover: Wehrhan Verlag, 2009. Citron, Marcia J. Gender and the Musical Canon. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993. Dodds, Sherill. Dancing on the Canon: Embodiments of Value in Popular Dance. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011. Eliot, Karen. ‘Dancing the Canon in Wartime: Sergeyev, de Valois, and Inglesby and the Classics of English Ballet’. In Dance on Its Own Terms: Histories and Methodologies, edited by Melanie Bales and Karen Eliot, 13–​42. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. Fischer-​Lichte, Erika. ‘Zur Einleitung’. In Theater im Kulturwandel des 18. Jahrhunderts:  Inszenierung und Wahrnehmung von Körper, Musik, Sprache, edited by Erika Fischer-​ Lichte and Jörg Schönert, 10–​20. Göttingen: Wallstein Verlag,  1999. Graf, Ruedi. DasTheater im Literaturstaat: LiterarischesTheater auf demWeg zur Bildungsmacht. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag, 1992. Heβelmann, Peter. Gereinigtes Theater? Dramaturgie und Schaubühne im Spiegel deutschsprachiger Theaterperiodika des 18. Jahrhunderts (1750–​1800). Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klostermann, 2002. Hentschel, Frank. ‘Über Wertung, Kanon und Musikwissenschaft’. In Der Kanon der Musik:  Theorie und Geschichte. Ein Handbuch, edited by Klaus Pietschmann and Melanie Wald-​Fuhrmann, 72–​85. Munchen: Edition Text + Kritik, 2012. Heβelmann, Peter. ‘ “Bühnen in Taschenformat”. Zu Theorie und Praxis der Gesellschaftstheater im letztenViertel des 18. Jahrhunderts’. In Theater im Kulturwandel des 18. Jahrhunderts: Inszenierung und Wahrnehmung von Körper, Musik, Sprache, edited by Erika Fischer-​Lichte and Jörg Schönert, 503–​20. Göttingen: Wallstein Verlag,  1999. Heydenbrand, Renate von. Kanon Macht Kultur.Theoretische, historische und soziale Aspekte ästhetischer Kanonbildung. Stuttgart and Weimar: J. B. Metzler, 1998. Hoppu, Petri. ‘National Dances and Popular Education –​The Formation of Folk Dance Canons in Norden’. In Dance and the Formation of Norden: Emergences and Struggles, edited by Karen Vedel, 27–​56. Trondheim: Tapir Academic Press, 2011. Kerman, Joseph. ‘A Few Canonic Variations’. Critical Inquiry 10, no. 1 (1983): 107–​25. www.jstor.org/​stable/​1343408. Krebs, Roland. ‘Die frühe Theaterkritik zwischen Bestandsaufnahme der Bühnenpraxis und Normierungsprogramm’. In Theater im Kulturwandel des 18. Jahrhunderts: Inszenierung und Wahrnehmung von Körper, Musik, Sprache, edited by Erika Fischer-​ Lichte and Jörg Schönert, 463–​83. Göttingen: Wallstein Verlag,  1999. Kurkela,Vesa, and LauriVäkevä, eds. De-​Canonizing Music History. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2009. Laakkonen, Johanna. Canon and Beyond. Helsinki: Finnish Academy of Science and Letters, 2009.

The (pre)history of canons  21 Lanzendörfer, Anselma. Name  –​ Nummer  –​ Titel:  Ankündigungsformen im Konzertprogramm und bürgerliche Musikrezeption im 19. Jahrhundert. Hildesheim: Georg-​Olms-​Verlag,  2017. Pavis, Patrice. Dictionary of the Theatre: Terms, Concepts and Analysis. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998. Pietschmann, Klaus, and Melanie Wald-​Fuhrmann, eds. Der Kanon der Musik:  Theorie und Geschichte. Ein Handbuch. Munchen: Edition Text + Kritik, 2012. Postlewait, Thomas. The Cambridge Introduction to Theatre Historiography. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Sauter, Willmar. ‘Theatre Historiography: General Problems, Swedish Perspectives’. In Writing & Rewriting National Theatre Histories, edited by Stephen E. Wilmer, 29–​46. Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press, 2004. Steichen, James. ‘Introduction’. The Journal of Musicology 31, no. 2 (Spring 2014): 183–​5. Taruskin, Richard. ‘Agents and Causes and Ends, Oh My’. The Journal of Musicology 31, no. 2 (Spring 2014): 272–​93. von Hallberg, Robert. ‘Editor’s Introduction’. Critical Inquiry 10, no. 1 (1983):  iii–​vi. www.jstor.org/​stable/​1343403. Weber,William.‘The History of Musical Canon’. In Rethinking Music, edited by Nicholas Cook and Mark Everist, 336–​55. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999. Wiesmüller, Wolfgang. ‘Die Kanondebatte –​Positionen und Entwicklungen’. Zeitschrift des Verbandes Polnischer Germanisten 2, no. 3 (2013): 281–​95. Willmer, Stephen E. ‘On Writing National Theatre Histories’. In Writing & Rewriting National Theatre Histories, edited by Stephen E. Wilmer, 17–​ 28. Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press, 2004. Winko, Simone. ‘Negativkanonisierung. August von Kotzebue in der Literaturgeschichtsschreibung 19. Jahrhunderts’. In Kanon Macht Kultur.Theoretische, historische und soziale Aspekte ästhetischer Kanonbildungen, edited by Renate von Heydenbrand, 341–64. Stuttgart and Weimar: Metzler, 1998. Zarhy-​Levo, Yael, and Freddie Rokem. ‘The Creation of a Canon: Re/​Evaluating the National Identity of Israeli Drama’. In Writing & Rewriting National Theatre Histories, edited by Stephen E.Wilmer, 174–​200. Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press, 2004.

2  Meeting the masters Repertory choices for young ladies Penelope Cave

Introduction In late Georgian Britain, the ‘Master’ whom every ‘young lady’ was meeting in her music lessons was Georg Friedrich Händel. Despite his death in 1759, Händel continued to adumbrate every other composer well into the 1800s. I shall suggest, in this chapter, that the keyboard composers and teachers who worked under Händel’s shadow and did not achieve his lasting canonic status provided much material for a burgeoning market. Girls learning the keyboard needed performance scores that would be relevant to their needs, and not merely instruction manuals made, ‘Easy to every Capacity’.1 Alongside reprints and arrangements of Händel, new advanced studies and sets of variations and sonatas (that were far from easy) flew off the press as their fingers flew over the keys. They were to be found in extant collections, marked-​up and much used, and I shall particularly exemplify two such collections and their owners. After viewing Händel’s continuing prominence through the eyes of amateur musicians, I shall include some contemporary advice on repertory for learners and explore the content of some popular collections of pieces, the influence of instruction books, and consider duets for four hands; many of these works and their authors deserve re-​evaluation of their true place in the literature, and to view these once popular, virtuoso pieces, in the context of their original function and relevance.

Georg Friedrich Händel Despite Händel’s death in 1759, the homage that continued to be paid to his music placed him upon a pedestal as firmly as the contemporary marble statue made by Roubiliac for Jonathan Tyers.2 His posthumous memorial at Westminster Abbey was unveiled in 1762, and Mainwearing reported, ‘[h]‌e was compared to Orpheus, and exalted above the rank of mortals’, and added to this hero worship by publishing his memoirs of Händel.3 The oft-​ cited prominence of Händel so long after his death is worth emphasising, to explain how hard it was for other composers to contend. As William Weber pinpointed, the performing canon involves the presentation of old works

Meeting the masters  23 organised as repertories and defined as sources of authority with regard to musical taste. I would argue that performance is ultimately the most significant and critical aspect of musical canon.4 Weber continues to suggest that ‘performing canon is more than just a repertory; it is also a critical and ideological force’. It was the nobility –​the Earl of Sandwich, Lord Fitzwilliam and Sir Watkin Williams-​Wynn –​who were largely responsible for mounting the 1784 Händel Commemoration that celebrated 25  years since the composer’s death, and who ensured that Händel continued to feature prominently within the mixed programmes of The Concert of Ancient Music.5 As Simon McVeigh observes, it contributed ‘to the current redefinition of the aristocracy as responsible guardians of the nation, in a potent statement of artistic leadership’.6 The cultural hegemony of such concerts was quickly established; they were attended by royalty and elite families who could afford high ticket prices, and they firmly placed the music of the King’s favourite, Händel, above all others; this pertained in both public and private performances. Händel’s keyboard music, originally composed for the harpsichord, continued to be played on the newer piano forte, along with many popular arrangements of his larger works. In 1786, the niece of the late-​flowering artist, and friend of the royal family, Mary Delany (1700–​1788), recorded in a letter to her father, from Windsor, that the three youngest princesses, daughters of George III, had breakfast with her. She entreated the ten-​year-​old Princess Mary to play a lesson of Händel’s that mama does… and then she, with all the sweetness in the world, played it twice. When Princess Mary finished, Princess Sophia said, ‘[n]‌ow I will play to you if you like it’, and immediately played the Hallelujah Chorus in the Messiah; and she and Princess Mary sung it.7 At Sledmere in Yorkshire, similar performances to that of the princesses would have been re-​enacted by Elizabeth (1777–​1853), the second daughter of Sir Christopher Sykes, who was showing considerable musical promise. Ten years later, at Mitcham Grove in Surrey, Henry Hoare’s only daughter, Lydia (1786–​1856), was also learning piano, harp, and taking singing lessons. Elizabeth Egerton and Lydia Acland’s music collections (along with those of their daughters in the 1830s) remain today, in the houses into which they married, Tatton Park in Cheshire and Killerton House in Devon, both of which are open to the public.8 The music they owned offers information on the repertory they inherited, bought, and played, which had relevance and meaning to them and their children and, alongside other private collections I have investigated, seems to represent a general trend. Of considerable value to the parents of Elizabeth and Lydia was Samuel Arnold’s first collected edition of Händel’s works in full score; it was a landmark publication, produced in 180 sections, spanning from 1787 to 1797. King George III ordered 25 copies, and Queen Charlotte, with two of their sons (the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Cumberland), headed a fine subscription list of the nobility. Given such royal approval, it is no surprise to find them bound into handsome volumes gracing the book shelves of Tatton Park and Killerton House, with some marks of use that signify

24  Penelope Cave their owners’ practical and intellectual interest in music, their connoisseurship and their position in society.9 This music had stood the test of time, and was certified, by their peers, as of the first quality, in preference to newfangled works that had yet to be approved. Both the Acland and Egerton families subscribed to the Concert of Ancient Music as their parents had before them and, for both girls, practical music-​making was a life-​long interest, but they were forming their own tastes. According to her brother, Lydia declared her first attendance at one of the Ancient Concerts, ‘very stupid’.10 While it is uncertain whether she referred to the elitism of the promoters, the quality of the music or its antiquity, a likely clarification is offered in the recollections of the mathematician and scientist, Mary Somerville (1780–​1872): One season I subscribed to the Concerts of Ancient Music, established by George the Third. They seemed to be a resort of the aged; a young face was scarcely to be seen. The music was perfect of its kind, but the whole affair was very dull.11 Dr Johnson’s friend, Hester Lynch Thrale (later Mrs. Piozzi), offered a balanced view of the repertory; as with many aristocrats, she felt safer with the ‘Ancient Music’, but was prepared to widen her experience, if only to confirm her preferences, Clementi’s Lessons and Dussek’s Sonatas, so fashionable now –​serve but to whet my Appetite and sharpen my Delight in a Concerto of Bach, a Chorus of Handel and a single Song of Sacchini.12 She recognised Händel as the most established canonic composer in 1790; today, Muzio Clementi (1752–​1832), and Jan Ladislav Dussek (1760–​1812) are becoming re-​established as key figures of ‘the London Piano School’, but Johann Christian Bach (1735–​1782) and Antonio Sacchini (1730–​1786), so ubiquitous at the end of the eighteenth century, have perhaps been relegated to the margins.

Bland’s collections Arrangements of large-​scale works by Händel for two (or four) hands were staple fare for keyboard players and occur repeatedly in a series of periodical publications, first begun by John Bland in about 1780, and continued by later purchasers of his plates. Bland’s Harpischord Collection had its first issue in January 1790, and up to 48 items were advertised to be issued monthly; the copy of Bland’s Collection residing at Tatton Park, however, is not this one.13 It is about 15 per cent larger, comprised of six numbers, of about 40–​50 pages each, and every number had between 7 and 11 pieces by ‘the First Composers’.14 An anthology of individual, previously printed pieces from the publisher’s store was a neat way of re-​marketing earlier music and re-​using old plates, which served to reinforce their popularity. This rare complete set of Bland’s Collection offers valuable evidence when assessing such ‘best-​sellers’ in the early 1790s, and thus contributed to canonising certain composers, genres, and works. Over half the collection is devoted to arrangements of orchestral movements, and 13 of those are by Händel, whose overtures were so frequently divorced from the operas

Meeting the masters  25 for which they were written and employed in opening the Ancient Music concerts. The nearest in popularity to Händel was Gaetano Pugnani (1739–​ 1798), with four violin sonatas and an opera overture, along with his Bohemian contemporary Johann Baptist Vanhal (1739–​1813) represented by four orchestral pieces, and then Thomas Arne (1710–​1778), Joseph Haydn (1732–​1809), Johann August Just (1750–​ 1791) and Johann Schobert (1735–​ 1767), with three pieces to their names. Thomas Billington (1754–​1832?), Thomas Carter (1735–​1804), William Felton (1715–​1769)), Leopold Kozeluch (1747–​1818), and Johann Franz Xaver Sterkel (1750–​1817) each appear twice. There are 19 examples of overtures (not all by Händel), arranged for keyboard; 12 sonatas or sonata groups; 5 symphonies (or sinfonias); and an equal number of ‘Lessons’. The dominance of arrangements is clear and highlights their use for the study of repertory, and enjoyment in recreating works from the concert or opera house. Popular repertory demonstrated the considerable keyboard skills that many amateur women achieved, but an unexamined source of influence in the formation of the canon is to be found in contemporary instruction books for the beginner. Within these didactic publications, much may be discovered in the authors’ choices and selections from various composers’ works. A previous instruction manual might well have introduced the beginner to the composers of works from Bland’s Collection, for example. The first pieces the beginner encountered would be fundamental to the formation of both musical taste and early acquaintance with composers’ names.

Eighteenth-​century pedagogy Two eighteenth-​ century instruction manuals may exemplify elementary repertory. Edward Miller (1735–​1807) wrote the Institutes of Music, an early pedagogical work that was first published by Longman & Broderip, which went through about 16 editions.15 It was intended for use in boarding schools for young ladies, the first part of which was written in the form of a catechism, thus beginning with questions and answers for learning the rudiments. The second part, however, comprises progressive pieces for harpsichord, in keys with increasing numbers of sharps and flats. Miller, having studied with Charles Burney (1726–​1814) and been recommended by James Nares (1715–​1783) to follow John Camidge (1734–​1803) as organist of Doncaster, was in touch with the English musical network, despite not being resident in London. His music choices mirror some of the current composers whom Burney had met on his travels and described in The Present State of Music in France and Italy published in 1771. Miller offered minuets by the earlier composers –​Arcangelo Corelli (1653–​ 1713), Jean-​Philippe Rameau (1683–​1764) and Johan Agrell (1701–​1765)  –​ that are deliberately pedagogical; Rameau’s minuet was written to illustrate his own technical advice, within the Pièces de Clavecin of 1724 that, despite the interest and repeated excerpts of his theoretical work, were not published in London until Walsh produced the scores in 1760.16 There is a Giga by Charles

26  Penelope Cave Avison (1709–​1770), who died the year before this publication. Among his other choices were those by living composers: further minuets were inserted by Schobert, and a Menuetto for Expression, by Johann Christian Bach (1735–​ 1782), with left-​ hand octaves suggesting the arrangement of an orchestral work; Pietro Domenico Paradies (1707–​1791), who had recently left London, provided a larghetto e cantabile that Miller was able to use, ‘for promoting the legato stile of fingering’; Johann Baptist Vanhal’s Arietta was followed by his Air and variations; an Adagio by the Italian opera composer, Gioacchino Cocchi (1712–​1796), who was a respected instrumental teacher in London during the 1760s; a piece by Friedrich II (1712–​1786), to mark the pupil’s progress, was the King of Prussia’s Allegro boasting crossed hands; The Air by Mr Handel in Berenice was chosen to complete the book. Of note is the deference by this respected English musician and teacher to foreign masters. Only two English composers are represented: Avison, and John Burton (1730–​1782), whose 10 sonatas, published in 1767, provide a very early use of ‘Piano Forte’ on the title page. Although a widely travelled and celebrated composer in his day, Burton is largely forgotten, as is Joseph Dietz whom the publisher Welcker was frequently printing in the 1770s. Miller’s inclusion of the Brussels organist, Ferdinand Philippe Joseph Staes (1748–​1809), and the Alsatian composer for harpsichord, Jean-​Frédéric Edelmann (1749–​1794), seems to have brought them to the attention of the British public. However, the Allegro by Staes (1748–​1809) is replaced in a later edition by Händel’s Water Music, one of a number of otherwise mostly smaller amendments.17 Edelmann’s later success is evidenced in his presence in Bland’s Collection, as was that of Vanhal, who was resident in Vienna until he travelled to Italy in 1769, and whose instrumental music also began to be published in London from about this time. Planting these undifferentiated names in the minds of the young surely influenced their adult musical perceptions and predilections. The anonymous author of The Harpsichord Preceptor made it clear in the preface of the book that he was offering popular music as well as instruction. The anonymous critic of The Analytical Review for 1789 expanded on the content, ‘we [also] find them to consist of the most fashionable airs of Händel, Haydn, Arne, Garth, Gretry, Giordani, Linley, and other eminent composers’.18 These ‘fashionable airs’ included those from the comic opera The Duenna, Paisiello’s The Heiress, Grétry’s ‘Legendary Air’ in Richard Coeur de Lion and Händel’s ‘Dead March’ in Saul.19 Garth was a friend of Avison, Grétry was known for his French music dramas and Giordani was in London in 1753; a highly prolific composer of instrumental as well as vocal works, he moved to Dublin ten years later, celebrated for his operas. James Nares (1715–​1783) and James Hook (1746–​1827) are also included, both of whom wrote instruction books of their own.20 These two eighteenth-​century tutor books offered the beginner harpsichordist a selection of pieces whose familiar presence would encourage the parental purchaser with some currently lauded composer-​performers. Thus, the instruction manual simultaneously confirmed hierarchical positions and supported contemporary musicians.

Meeting the masters  27

Into the nineteenth century In 1815, Elizabeth Appleton (ca. 1790–​1849), governess to the daughters of the Earl of Leven and Melville, wrote a complete chapter on music within her wide-​ranging book.21 She advised on all aspects of musical education, and particularly recommended the didactic works of Clementi. Among the huge number of pedagogical publications for piano forte in the early 1800s, two composers were consistently lauded by critics and writers of conduct literature:  Clementi and his pupil, Johann Baptist Cramer (1771–​1858). Leon Plantinga has suggested that ‘Clementi’s influence on following generations of pianists and piano composers is hard to overestimate’.22 An 1820 biographical dictionary writer remarked, ‘we have heard Dussek, Steibelt,Woelfl, Beethoven, and other eminent performers on the continent, who had had no opportunity of receiving personal instructions from Clementi, declare that they had formed themselves entirely on his works’.23 Muzio Clementi, now considered the progenitor of the London Piano School, held this esteemed position, firstly, as a recitalist on harpsichord before the piano superseded it; then as a sought-​ after teacher and composer for the instrument; and, finally, as a music publisher and manufacturer of instruments. Perhaps the success he gained in his lifetime caused interest to wane after his death, and only now are his compositions being reassessed, as a scholarly complete edition is in process, and musicians look beyond his beginners’ sonatinas and the abridged versions of his Gradus ad Parnassum.24 Yet, Clementi’s influence upon the amateur market still merits closer investigation.

Clementi’s Introduction Clementi’s Introduction to the Art of Playing on the Piano Forte of 1801 strongly promoted the baroque masters he had personally studied so assiduously.25 Two names overshadow the first edition of Clementi’s Introduction: Händel and Corelli, each of whom was represented about ten times. Because composers made amendments to later editions, precise statistics on content are unreliable; Christoph Graupner (1683–​1760) who based his own Rudiments of Piano Playing upon Clementi’s work wrote in his preface to the second edition of 1806, of ‘[t]‌he very favorable reception which the first edition of the following work has met with’, proceeding to add that it ‘induced the author to publish a second, with additions and improvements’.26 There were older pieces that broke new ground:  David Rowland has drawn attention to the three pieces by François Couperin being the first printed appearance of Couperin’s keyboard music in England.27 Thus, Clementi modestly introduced the most idiomatic composer for harpsichord into a tutor for the usurping ‘Piano Forte’. Domenico Scarlatti’s sonatas had engendered a loyal following in England since the publication, in London, of his Essercizi in 1738/​1739, and Clementi had already allied himself to this, when he published a selection of Scarlatti sonatas

28  Penelope Cave in 1791.28 Johann Sebastian Bach was not well known in Britain at this time, but Clementi included another English first publication:  the polonaise and minuet from BWV 817. He chose Mozart and Haydn, Dussek and Cramer as examples of his own generation; Mozart’s popular Away with Melancholy opened the repertory section.29

Cramer’s Instructions Having studied with Clementi when young, Johann Baptist Cramer published his own Instructions in 1812.30 While he did not specify gender, an inclusive print shows a young lady at the piano; the fourth edition was used by Elizabeth Egerton’s daughter, Charlotte, at Tatton Park in 1830.31 Cramer was described by the author of The Young Lady’s Book as ‘the great master of the expressive and singing style of the piano-​forte’.32 Where Cramer differed from his teacher, it was in his encouragement to embrace current, popular music. In the preface to his third edition, Cramer suggested that ‘[e]‌xperience proves that introducing popular Airs arranged as Lessons for the Practice of Learners, [sic] greatly promotes their application and improvement’. He also advised, ‘when desired to play…they afford more entertainment to their hearers…than by playing long and uninteresting compositions’. Many would eschew well-​known music as discouraging reading skills, but Cramer, with an astute eye on the market, selected pieces he knew would entertain, such as Haydn’s Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser (God save the Emperor). In a similar vein, he maintained a keen appreciation of the popularity of the theatre, and also included arias by Händel, Daniel Steibelt (1765–​1823), Mozart and an Allegretto by Paisiello (1740–​1816), the much-​admired opera composer. As opera and orchestral concert works were influencing his choices, so too was theatrical dance. ‘The Gavotta in Achille et Déidamie’, I  assume to be d’Egville’s popular ballet, performed at the King’s Theatre in 1804. It is understandable that music by ‘celebrated composers’, enjoyed at the theatre or in concerts, should lead to reproduction in private for varied available instrumentation, and thus an operatic aria or orchestral overture might become as well-​loved as the folk songs that were also frequently incorporated into display pieces for the piano, in the form of variations, fantasias and rondos. Although such works made the differentiation between the masterwork and the mundane a subtle distinction, the enterprise of publishing more advanced pieces based on well-​known airs seems a natural accompaniment to his introduction of such melodies in the Instructions.

Popular tunes and fashionable composers Between 1811 and 1813, Chappell and Co. began publishing a series of 24 arrangements, the title of which explains the purpose and content:  National Melodies:  Consisting of the most admired Airs of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales, arranged as Rondos, or with Variations for the Piano-​Forte, and an introductory Movement to each, composed by the most eminent Authors. Samuel Chappell had founded the firm, the year before the first part of this publication, with Francis

Meeting the masters  29 Table 2.1 National Melodies by ‘the most eminent authors’ Composer

Title of Air to be arranged

Dedicatee

J. B. Cramer (1771–​1858) T. Latour (1766–​1840) P. A. Corri (1784–​1832) William Dance (1755–​1840) G. E. Griffin (1781–​1863) J. B. Cramer Augustus Meves (1785–​1859) T. Haigh (1769–​1808) P. A. Corri

No. 1: You gentlemen of England, Air by Callcott. No. 2: Ar hyd y nos [All through the night], Welsh Air with 7 variations. No. 3: Where the Bee sucks, English Air by Dr. Arne. No. 4: Corn Riggs, Scotch Air.

Temple West Esq.

No. 5: Little Taffline, English Air by Storace. No. 6: The bunch of green rushes, Irish Air. No. 7: The new Langlolee, Irish Air with variations. No. 8: When William at Eve, English by Shield. No. 9: Green grow the rushes O! Scotch Air. No. 10: The Bard’s Legacy, Irish Air.

Miss Frances Richardson Miss Ramsden Miss Baker

No.11: Ye banks & braes o’ bonny Doon, Scotch Air. No. 12: Down the Burn Davie, Scotch Air. No.13: Dulce Domum, English Air. No. 14: Sir Watkyn’s Dream. Welsh Air, subtitled La Chasse Vivace. No. 15: Since Love Is the Plan, Irish Air. No. 17: Nòs galan or New Year’s Night, Welsh Air.

Miss Batchelder

T. A. Rawlings (1774–​1849) T. Latour J. G. Graeff (1762–​1829) J. B. Cramer Augs. Meves. T. Haigh T. A. Rawlings P. A. Corri T. Latour J. B. Cramer J. B. Graeff P. A. Corri G. E. Griffin William Dance, Musician in Ordinary to His Majesty T. Latour

No. 18: The Lass of Patie’s Mill, Scotch Air. [informal variations]. No. 19: The brown Irish girl, Irish Air. No. 20: My Jo Janet, Scotch Air. No. 21: There’s nae Luck about the House, Scotch Air. No. 22: The maid of Derby, with variations. English Air. No. 23: The old Langolee, Irish Air.

No. 24: God save the King, with variations. English Air.

The Hon. Sophia Lygon Miss Matilda Baker Mr. S. Marten

William Shield Esq. Miss Frederica Harford Miss Maria Hunter

Miss Smith Miss Disbrowe Miss Sherwood Miss Ellen Harper Miss Evelyn Miss Grant (of Kilgraston) Miss Anderson Miss Hibbert Miss Caroline Ramsden Miss E.J. Keatinge The Rt Hon. Ldy Charlotte Scott Honble. Mrs. West

Tatton Latour and Johann Baptist Cramer. The format of the National Melodies (see Table 2.1) demonstrates the constituents of successful piano music at this time:  a well-​known, contemporary air, popular composers and dedications that remind us that they were working musicians who probably took piano

30  Penelope Cave forte students, and whose music was therefore viable for daily use. While they were issued as stand-​alone recital pieces, with integral introductions (making it unnecessary to improvise a prelude such as the instruction books promulgate), the publishers presumably hoped their customer would purchase all 24 arrangements, but in searching private collections, it seems the public may not always have been so compliant.33 Had a survey been conducted at the time, it may have been found that popularity was as dependent upon the air as it was upon the eminence of the composer.

The trivial and the true Elizabeth Appleton advocated the avoidance of trivial music because it was repertory that moulded the pupil’s taste.34 Appleton stipulated worthy musical works, and helpfully published a table of suitable repertory in Private Education, or Studies for Young Ladies Considered (see Table  2.2), although some of the composers who fulfilled her requirements, and provided worthy sonatas and chamber works, were neglected after their death. She intended a list of pieces that might be laid out as a means of keeping repertory in practice but, almost coincidentally, the table helpfully divulges what she was recommending for her pupils, including some popular lighter airs.35 Among the pieces in Appleton’s table, Liebe Augustin by Johann Wilhelm Wilms (1772–​1847) is to be found in the Killerton House collection, bound with a Mozart concerto; and, together with La Colombe Retrouvée, by Louis von Esch (fl.1786–​1825), both appear to have been enjoyed at both Tatton Park and Killerton. Wilms and von Esch were also renowned teachers, if almost forgotten today. Wilms, born in Germany, became an eminent musician who introduced the concertos of Mozart and Beethoven to the Netherlands.36 von Table 2.2 Elizabeth Appleton’s suggested repertory table for her pupil Amelia The Lady Amelia B–​’s List of Music Concertos, &c

Sonatas.

Airs, &c.

Duets

Steibelt, Storm Non plus ultra Overtures, Handel Griffin, Op. 1. Handel Dussek, Op. 27. Cuckoo, Op. Viotti Corelli’s Bach, Op. Arne’s Overtures Zauberflotte, Overture

Dussek, Op. Cramer, Op. Clementi, Op. 12. Pleyel Sterkyl Kozeluch von Esch Mazzinghi Evance, Op. Himmel Haydn

Sul-​Margine, Latour Liebe Augustin La Colombe retiree Air, Mozart Air Russe, Dussek Beethoven Serenace, Cramer Meyer’s Airs, Harp No. 4.

Clementi Nicolai Meyer’s Accom-​ paniment for the Harp Dussek Mozart

Meeting the masters  31 Esch published harp and piano music in France from 1786 onwards, and many of his compositions were published in London from around 1800 to 1825, receiving numerous congratulatory reviews in various London magazines. von Esch was described in Sainsbury’s Dictionary as ‘a celebrated German instrumental composer’ and the notice of his death reminded readers, ‘he laudably availed himself of a peculiar native talent as a composer and teacher of music, in which profession he so eminently excelled’.37 Many of these composers were also known to Jane Austen, and found in her family music collection. Cramer had included the recently deceased Josef Woelfl (1773–​1812), who was considered, in his time, to be the only serious rival to Beethoven.38 Highly praised in Vienna and Paris for his learned style, yet with ‘a very rare combination of power and delicacy’, he moved to London in 1805. He studied with Kozeluch, heard Mozart weekly, and conducted the first performance of Beethoven’s Fidelio in 1805.39 Scholars have continued to discuss Woelfl and Beethoven as worthy rivals; Woelfl himself, however, added fuel to the increasingly well-​stoked flames that warmed the interest in Haydn and Beethoven. He dedicated three piano trios, opus 5, to the former, and three piano sonatas, opus 6, to the latter. The third name of the triumvirate to rise to prominence, taking longer to emerge in Britain than Haydn and Beethoven had, was Mozart, whom Woelfl promoted in another way: Woelfl wrote a ‘Harp & flute Sonata’, using a theme from Mozart’s Così fan tutte.40 Such adaptations were significant in the dissemination of Mozart’s music, at a time when his operas were only beginning to appear in London. Even in Vienna, Mozart was less appreciated than Woelfl, Pleyel and Kozeluch who were also hugely popular in Britain. At Killerton House in Devon, Lydia Acland had many of these Viennese sonatas, handsomely bound, but her volumes of Breitkopf & Hartel’s complete keyboard works of Mozart and Haydn remain relatively neglected in their original paper covers. In addition to Woelfl, Cramer included another fellow pianist-​ composer whose works were highly acclaimed, and also found in Appleton’s table. Steibelt (1765–​1823), found at Tatton and Killerton, was also selected by Mary Somerville, and by Clementi in his Introduction. Steibelt divided his time between Paris and London and his third concerto of 1799, L’Orage, a virtuosic piece of programmatic thunder and lightning, literally took London by storm. While the subject matter might have qualified it for ‘parade’ music, the music was too well written; Appleton placed it as the first of her concerto-​ repertory suggestions.41 By 1829, the anonymous author of The Young Lady’s Book consistently referred to the works of ‘the solid masters’, Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven, whose compositions ‘resulted in the perfection of thought and feeling –​that kind of expressive, yet regular music, which is the joint product of the head and heart’. The author incisively distinguished between popular ‘ordinary parade pieces, of which the music shops are so prolific’ and refined compositions that exemplified ‘the purest harmony’, thus siding with the aesthetic ideal of harmony over ‘mere’ melody.42 Yet, as I implied earlier, these two categories were not always so clearly opposed, and frequently rubbed shoulders, both in publisher’s catalogues and within seemingly undiscerning volumes,

32  Penelope Cave however finely bound. To unpack the author’s meaning, a prime example of a ‘parade piece’ was, perhaps, the ubiquitous and much imitated Battle of Prague by Frantisek Kotzwara (1730–​1791), in which patriotism, vivid reportage, and a flamboyant virtuosity were combined for maximum effect.43 The imitation of bugles and cannon fire, Turkish music and the insertion of popular songs such as Rule Britannia or, as in this work, God save the King, were blatant crowd-​ pleasers, and yet the pathos of the cries of the wounded is truly heartfelt. The use of Turkish and military effects were not confined to second-​rate composers, for Mozart, Haydn and Beethoven were also adept in employing such devices, while pianos were being manufactured with janissary stops to emulate drums, bells and cymbals.44 A fashionable trend was evolving, and current events also influenced public reception; the many battle pieces took on a new relevance during the Napoleonic wars, and became considerably more popular and influential than perhaps the quality of the music, per se, merited. For the younger generation, the proliferation of printers offering new music added variety to their musical diets. Mary Somerville may have been unimpressed by the Ancient Concert, but she practised for four or five hours a day in the early 1800s and, as a pupil of Corri, liked to play the keyboard music then in vogue: ‘pieces by Ignace Pleyel (1757–​1831), Clementi, Steibelt, Mozart, and Beethoven, the last being my favourite to this day’.45 She also admitted to her enjoyment of comic opera, extolling the singers Pasta, Malibran, Grisi, and Catalani. It is not unusual to find a piece based on an aria, ‘as sung by Madame Pasta’.46 Mozart, Haydn and Beethoven were not universally appreciated however; Jane Austen owned almost none of their work, apparently preferring sonatas by Pleyel and Maria Hester Reynolds (1760–​1813), Frantisek Kotzwara’s Battle of Prague and Daniel Steibelt’s so-​called ‘Storm concerto’, his third piano concerto l’Orage.47 The debate between trivial and true music was perhaps another face of that between ‘ancient’ and ‘modern’.48

Piano arrangements for two and four hands Various collections built on the success of both the National Melodies and the Dramatic Airs, from English, Italian, German and French Operas, arranged as Rondos for the Piano-​Forte (also 1818). Some of the same composers were re-​employed a year later in Operatic Airs, the subjects taken from the most approved Operas, Italian, English, &c. &c. and arranged for the Piano-​Forte with an Introductory movement to each, by the most eminent Authors, which specified Clementi, Frederick Kalkbrenner (1785–​1849), Latour Joseph Mazzinghi (1765–​1844), Ferdinand Ries (1784–​ 1838) and Thomas Augustus Rawlings (1774–​1849).49 Of Clementi’s contribution, the Musical Quarterly wrote admiringly of his ability to decorate a melody without masking it, ‘The taste of the artist is visible in the simplicity of the decorations which, while they adorn, hide none of the original perfection of the subject he has chosen’.50 Considering the contemporary approbation of Clementi’s genius, it is astonishing that it has taken so long to look further than his sonatinas. Richard Mackenzie Bacon actually suggested in both reviews that

Meeting the masters  33 these collections raised standards by stimulating rivalry in the chosen composers, and allowed the public to assess ‘comparative examples of the powers of living authors’.51 Four-​hand transcriptions of oratorios and instrumental works by Haydn and Beethoven, and operas by Mozart, also assisted in the canonisation of these composers. Thomas Christensen suggests that ‘[t]‌he hope of many advocates was that piano transcriptions would eventually elevate public taste by disseminating widely the choicest masterpieces of the classical repertory’.52 Sometimes this was most easily achieved by using more than a single keyboard. The easier arrangements were useful in teaching, and frequently duets were dedicated to sisters who had the opportunities to work together on such lessons, although many required considerable skill. Elizabeth Sykes/​Egerton owned Haydn’s ‘Surprise’ symphony for four hands, in about 1800, and 40 years later, duets from The Creation delighted later generations at Tatton Park, who must have had not just skill but muscular power to pound out John F. Burrowes’ version of Beethoven’s ‘Hallelujah Chorus’, also owned by Lydia Dorothea Acland at Killerton in a brilliant four-​hand arrangement by David Bruguier.53 Thalberg’s fantasias, upon a Mozart aria, appeared under the umbrella title of Souvenirs Théâtral –​piano music to enhance a pleasant memory of an evening in the concert hall or theatre.54 For the buyers of sheet music, some of whom were well-​received composers in their own right, the names of the arrangers were considered important enough in attracting the public to be emblazoned upon the title page, often vying with the originator of a work by such as Mozart or Gioachino Rossini.55

Virtuoso pianist-​composers Much of the repertoire for piano was challenging. Having stressed the difficulty of emulating ‘the brilliancy and articulation of the fashionable pianists, Kalkbrenner, Pixis, and Moscheles’, the author of The Young Lady’s Book continued, ‘the music-​mad passages of some composers are not worth the trouble of conquering’. However, the young ladies to whom she was writing in the early 1800s, such as the daughters of Elizabeth Egerton and Lydia Acland, enjoyed these virtuosic moderns in the 1830s, and were not unique in possessing the necessary technique. Two pianist-​composers spent ten years in England from 1814:  Kalkbrenner (1785–​1849) established himself with performances in Bath and London, described by Camille Pleyel as ‘even eclipsing Cramer’.56 Likewise, Ries, according to the Harmonicon, ‘is justly celebrated as one of the finest piano-​performers of the present day’.57 Rawlings seems to have specialised in songs, marches and piano pieces for the salon, as did Theodore Latour, pianist to the Prince Regent. Perhaps Latour’s most ambitious work was his Imitations of many of the most eminent professors in twenty six variations on the favorite gavot … from the opera, Achille et Deidamie, by André Campra (1660–​1744), which offers a guide to the most popular composers and performers in 1808.58 Both his New and Improved Method and its 1828 sequel included numerous examples, ‘selected from the Works of Classical Authors’.59 Latour’s original compositions

34  Penelope Cave for beginners were enhanced by his simplified keyboard arrangements of Rossini and Mozart arias, and he finished the tutor with two short duets. In a letter addressed to Novello, the organist Thomas Adams wished music masters, ‘instead of plying their scholars with trash, got up … “to sell,” would make a serious effort to form their taste by classical models’.60 This, perhaps, was a trend towards more serious classicism, to sort the wheat from the chaff. It is worth noting that Beethoven wrote variations on well-​loved themes, including God save the King, and so those we now revere as ‘classical’ composers were happy to be dressed in the robes of the populists.61

Conclusion Keyboard methods, technical studies, and performance repertoire, as found in bound collections of later Georgian domestic music, offer an interesting glimpse of both the changing nature of taste and that of ‘the performing canon’. It was musicians themselves who were promoting those they admired, whether in concerts, through arrangements, or by republication, but reviewers played their part in encouraging or discouraging them. However, I conclude that the repertoire that was being played by women and girls in the home was influenced most heavily by the music they first encountered. Miller seems to have been at the cutting edge in producing an instruction book of the composers who were active in the 1760s and yet balancing it with a penultimate flourish by including a piece by Friedrich II, King of Prussia, before a finale by Händel.62 Bland’s Collection, while motivated by the financial rewards of republishing already prepared works, was confirming an established interest, and contributing to canonic status. In the following generation, the pupil’s taste was again formed by good grounding from teachers (such as Latour, Wilms and von Esch), and exposure to the repertoire in their tutor books. As discussed, Clementi’s Introduction (promoted by Elizabeth Appleton), and Cramer’s Instructions (used by Charlotte Egerton) were particularly influential. For the more advanced student, publications such as the National Melodies provided well-​known airs to encourage the purchase of attractive performance pieces by current composers. Clementi accurately predicted those whose names have lasted, but the repertoire speaks vividly of its time. Collections of pieces were relevant to the examples in instruction books, whether model preludes, simplified folk-​songs and arias, or large-​scale keyboard works such as ‘Grand’ sonatas by ‘the Masters’. These elements formed future musical choices, based on familiarity as much as virtuosity. In addition to the parental choice of Händel, learners were introduced by both their teachers and writers of instruction books to new composers, most of whose works are largely marginalised today. If Clementi, Cramer, Dussek, Hummel, and Pleyel were favoured above Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, the continued exposure to the works of the latter, both in performance and in the many scores arranged for four hands, ensured that these composers remained in the canon for their descendants. Later Georgian composers wrote music for Georgian pianos, and they ranked highly in the eyes of their pupils. To reassess the worth of such composers today, we need to return

Meeting the masters  35 to the early instruments of the London Piano School, with a knowledge of historically informed pedagogy and performance practice, and then we might meet the works of these ‘Masters’ once again.

Notes 1 The eighteenth-century theoreticians Anton Bemetzrieder and Jean Jousse used this term for instruction books, but there are many more who described their publications as ‘easy’. 2 Jonathan Tyers, entrepreneur and collector, was the director of the Vauxhall gardens who commissioned the public, life-​sized figure in 1738; for a living person, it was a tribute previously given only to monarchy, noblemen or military leaders.The reputation of Roubilliac (1702–​1762), who came to London in 1730, was established by this sculpture. 3 Mainwearing, Memoirs of George Frederic Handel. 4 Weber, ‘The History of Musical Canon’. 5 The long-​running series of concerts was founded by the Earl of Sandwich, in 1776, and established in order to perform works that were more than 20 years old. 6 McVeigh, Concert Life in London, 22. 7 The letter was written by Mary Port to her father, John Port of Ilam, on 10 September 1786. Delany, The Autobiography, 387. 8 Tatton Park is run jointly by the National Trust and Cheshire East Council. Killerton House is owned by the National Trust. 9 A handlist of the extensive keyboard collections in both houses is to be found in Cave, ‘Piano Lessons in the English Country House’. 10 Letter in Deeds, estate papers, family papers, Acland of Killerton, 1148M Add36/​ 899a. 11 Somerville, Personal Recollections, 142. 12 Hester Thrale’s entry for July 1790. Piozzi, Thraliana, 774. 13 Bland, John, Bland’s Collection, Tatton Park, Cheshire. 14 Yu Lee An, ‘Music Collections of John Bland and his Successors’, 200–​201, 219, supplies a list of Bland’s catalogues and indices sourced from the British Library, Royal College of Music and Bodleian Libraries, and an image of one for Bland’s Harpsichord Collection with incipits for 48 pieces. A list of the first 30 is found in Deval, ‘Gradus Ad Parnassum’, 134–​5. These do not, however, match Bland’s index-​ plate, as printed at the end of the Tatton Park volume, proving it to be not only rare but also complete. The full content is listed in Appendix no. 4, Cave, ‘Piano Lessons in the English Country House’. 15 Miller, Institutes of Music. Although the date given in many libraries, including the British Library, is 1771, and Longman had set up a music-​selling business in 1767, Broderip did not join him until 1773. See Jenny Nex, ‘Longman & Broderip’, 9–​94. See also Kassler, The Science of Music, 771–​3. As the title-​page of the British Library copy gives the author’s name as ‘Edward Miller, Mus. Dr’., it has to be a later edition, after 1786. The earlier copy (also Longman & Broderip, at the same address), which I consulted in Glasgow University Library, described him only as ‘organist at Doncaster’. 16 Rameau’s Introduction to Practical Music (1st chapter of his Traite, in English) was repeatedly published in London from 1737. Rameau, A Collection of Lessons for the Harpsicord.

36  Penelope Cave 17 As with other instruction manuals, some pages were omitted and other pieces inserted in successive editions, in order to maintain contemporary relevance; fingerings, expression and other comments might be added to existing plates; therefore, alterations were enabled without the necessity of replacing every plate. 18 Review ‘Art. LV’ in Analytical Review, Or History of Literature, Domestic and Foreign, on an enlarged Plan 4 (4 July 1789): 365. 19 The Duenna was immensely popular from its first performance in 1775 to the 1840s; The Heiress was performed at Drury Lane in January 1786, and published in the following month; Richard Cœur de Lion, a semi-​operatic version of Sedaine’s work had music by Thomas Linley the elder, and was staged at Drury Lane in 1788; Händel’s Saul was first performed in 1739 at the King’s Theatre. 20 Nares, Il principio, and Hook, Guida di musica, plus Second Part, The Preceptor for the Piano-​Forte, Organ or harpsichord, and New Guida di musica. 21 Elizabeth Appleton, Private Education. 22 Plantinga, ‘Clementi, Muzio’. 23 ‘Mr. Clementi’. 24 The Italian publisher, Ut Orpheus Edizioni, Bologna is responsible for newly edited scores of all his keyboard works; select scholarship from the conference in Lucca, November 2015. Sala and Stewart-​MacDonald, Muzio Clementi and British Musical Culture. 25 On Clementi’s Introduction, see, Soderlund, History of Keyboard Technique, 211; Rosenblum, Performance Practices in Classic Piano Music, 26. 26 Graupner, Rudiments of the art of playing on the piano forte, which includes further plagiarism by using Steibelt’s diagrams of the hand. 27 Rowland, ‘Clementi’s Music Business’, 167. 28 Clementi, Scarlatti’s Chefs-​d’oeuvre. Within the Introduction, Clementi included sonatas Kk.34, 35, 40 and 42. See, Daw, ‘Muzio Clementi as an Original Advocate, Collector, and Performer’, 63. 29 As has been often related, Clementi’s admiration for Mozart was first engendered when they competed in the Emperor Joseph II’s famous trial of skill in 1781. Their famous trial of musical skill took place at the Viennese court on the 24 December 1781, and on the 12 January 1782, Mozart wrote to his father: ‘Clementi plays well, as far as execution with the right hand goes. His greatest strength lies in his passages in 3rds. Apart from that, he has not a kreuzer’s worth of taste or feeling –​in short he is a mere mechanicus.’ See Abert, W.A. Mozart, 625–​6. 30 Cramer, Instructions for the Piano Forte. Cramer chose Haydn’s ‘God save the Emperor’, a romance by him, a Beethoven Thema, rondos by Dussek and Clementi, and an allegro by Woelfl; and with a keen appreciation of the popularity of opera, airs by Händel and Steibelt, and three by Mozart, an Allegretto by Paisiello, plus the gavotte in Achille et Déidamie (orig. Campra). 31 Cramer, Instructions for the piano forte, Tatton Park, Cheshire. This edition was advertised by the Harmonicon 46 (October 1826): 3. The young lady seated at the upright piano was frequently re-​engraved, with small alterations, and used for successive editions of Cramer’s Instructions, and also on the title page of Latour’s Method. 32 The Young Lady’s Book, 368. 33 As evidenced in 20 bound together in the collection at Knole, five at Owletts, and just two at Killerton. Even the British Library has not an original set in entirety but has completed it with a few from a later edition.

Meeting the masters  37 34 Appleton, Private Education, 174. 35 Appleton, Private Education, 161. This table is reconstructed from of the one she provided in her book. 36 Jan ten Bokum, ‘Wilms, Johann Wilhelm’. 37 Sainsbury, A Dictionary of Musicians. Obituary of von Esch in The London Magazine, April 1829, 140. 38 In 1799, Baron Raimund von Wetzlar and Prince Lichnowsky arranged a trial of pianism between him and Beethoven. Tilman Skowroneck quotes Ignaz von Seyfried, Studien im Generalbasse (1832), explaining that Beethoven and Woelfl gave each other subjects for improvisation, and even attempted ‘one or another four-​ hand capriccio’ during several soirées in von Wetzlar’s villa, and that in fact they ‘respected each other, and paid little attention to the fuss made by their patrons’. See Skowroneck, Beethoven the Pianist, 144. 39 Duval, ‘Un rival de Beethoven:  Joseph Wölfl ’, Weber, ‘The Eighteenth-​Century Origins of the Musical Canon’, 114. Denora, ‘The Beethoven-​Wölfl Piano Duel’. 40 Wölfl, Grand Sonata for the Harp. 41 Steibelt, The Storm. 42 The Young Lady’s Book, 365–​71. 43 See Morgan, ‘The Virtuous Virtuosa’. 44 Although mostly found in Viennese pianos, the earliest reference to the janissary stop was in a patent of 1797, filed by piano makers William Rolfe and Samuel Davis; see their entry in Clinkscale, Makers of the Piano, 312. 45 Somerville, Personal Recollections, 50. My thanks to Brianna E. Robertson-​Kirkland for suggesting she would probably have been learning with Natale Corri, the brother of the publisher, Domenico Corri, soon after 1810. 46 For example, Latour, Airs à la Pasta arranged for the Piano Forte; Fétis, Sweet Remembrance, a fantasia with variations. 47 See the Austen Family digitised music collection:  https://​archive.org/​details/​ austenfamilymusicbooks. 48 William Weber, Simon McVeigh, and Howard Irving have each contributed to mapping the opposing but also variously nuanced and ambiguous opinions on the value of ancient versus modern music, and how they intersect with views on class and national identity. 49 The first two numbers of Operatic Airs were reviewed by Richard Mackenzie Bacon in the Quarterly Musical Magazine and Review 2, no. 7 (1820): 342–​5. 50 Ibid. 345. 51 Dramatic Airs was also fulsomely reviewed by Bacon in his the Quarterly Musical Magazine and Review, 2, no. 6 (1820): 247. 52 Thomas Christensen, ‘Four-​Hand Piano Transcription and Geographies’, 264. 53 Haydn, ‘The Surprize, a Duett for the Piano Forte’; Haydn, The Chorusses, in Haydn’s Oratorio; Beethoven, Beethoven’s Hallelujah, Beethoven, Beethoven’s Celebrated Hallelujah Chorus. 54 Thalberg, Fantasias du Souvenir theatral. Czerny also used this title for his fantasias on operatic themes for both two and four hands. 55 For example, Burrowes, Bruguier, Coote, Czerny Devereaux, Diabelli, Haigh, Horsley, Perry, Potter, Rimbault, Saffry, Wilton, Watts, etc. 56 3 April, 1815, Letter No. 1, to his parents, from London. See, Benton, ‘London Music in 1815’, 36. 57 The Harmonicon, 2, no. 15 (March 1824): 35.

38  Penelope Cave 58 Latour, Imitations. See also Cave, ‘The Sincerest Form of Flattery’, 84–​106. 59 Latour, New and Improved Method. 60 Cowgill, ‘The London Apollonicon Recitals’, 222, quotes Letter from Thomas Adams to Vincent Novello, 22 August 1828. 61 Beethoven, Variations, also Rule Britannia, etc. 62 Music by Friedrich II was included in Six Solos for a German Flute or Violin. See also, Friedrich II, Lesson for the Harpsichord or Piano-​Forte.

Bibliography Abert, Hermann. W.A. Mozart, translated by Stewart Spencer and edited by Cliff Eisen. New York: Yale University Press, 2007. An, Yu Lee. ‘The Periodical Music Collections of John Bland and his Successors’. In The Music Trade in Georgian England, edited by Michael Kassler, 195–​230. Farnham: Ashgate, 2011. Appleton, Elizabeth. Private Education; Or, a Practical Plan for the Studies of Young Ladies: With an Address to Parents, Private Governesses, and Young Ladies. London: Henry Colburn, 1815. Benton, Rita. ‘London Music in 1815, as Seen by Camille Pleyel’. Music & Letters 47, no. 1 (Jan 1966): 34–​47. Bokum, Jan ten. ‘Wilms, Johann Wilhelm’. In Grove Music Online. https://​doi.org/​ 10.1093/​gmo/​9781561592630.article.30373 Burney, Charles. The Present State of Music in France and Italy. London:  T. Becket & Co, 1771. Cave, Penelope. ‘Piano Lessons in the English Country House, 1785–​1845’. PhD diss., University of Southampton, 2013. –​–​–.​‘The Sincerest Form of Flattery: Popular Piano-​Style in the Late Georgian Era’. The Consort 73 (2017): 84–​106. Christensen,Thomas. ‘Four-​Hand Piano Transcription and Geographies of Nineteenth-​ Century Musical Reception’, Journal of the American Musicological Society 52, no. 2 (Summer 1999): 255–​98. Clinkscale, Martha Novak. Makers of the Piano. Vol. 2, 1820–​1860. Oxford:  Oxford University Press, 1999. Cowgill, Rachel. ‘The London Apollonicon Recitals, 1817–​32: A Case-​Study in Bach, Mozart and Haydn Reception’. Journal of the Royal Musical Association 123, no. 2 (1998): 190–​228. Daw, Stephen. ‘Muzio Clementi as an Original Advocate, Collector, and Performer, in particular of J.S. Bach and D. Scarlatti’. In Bach Handel & Scarlatti (1685–​1985), edited by Peter Williams, 61–​75. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985. Delany, Mary. The Autobiography and Correspondence of Mary Granville, Mrs. Delany: With Interesting Reminiscences of King George the Third and Queen Charlotte, edited by the Right Honourable Lady Llanover, 3 vols. London: Richard Bentley, 1861, Denora, Tia, ‘The Beethoven-​Wölfl Piano Duel’. In Music in Eighteenth-​Century Austria, edited by David Wyn Jones, 259–​ 82. Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 1996. Deval, Dorothy Jean. ‘Gradus Ad Parnassum: The Pianoforte in London, 1770–​1820’. PhD diss., King’s College University of London, 1991. Duval, Raymond, ‘Un rival de Beethoven:  Joseph Woelfl ’. Rivista Musicale Italiana V (1898): 490–​503.

Meeting the masters  39 Irving, Howard. Ancients and Moderns:  William Crotch and the Development of Classical Music. Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999. Kassler, Jamie Croy. The Science of Music in Britain, 1714–​1830: A Catalogue of Writings, Lectures, and Inventions, 2 vols. New York: Garland Publishing, 1979. Mainwearing, John. Memoirs of the Life of the Late George Frederic Handel, to Which Is Added, A Catalogue of His Works, and Observations upon Them. London: R. & J. Dodsley, 1760. McVeigh, Simon. Concert Life in London from Mozart to Haydn. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993. Morgan, Elizabeth. ‘The Virtuous Virtuosa: Women at the Pianoforte in England, 1780–​ 1820’. PhD diss., University of Los Angeles, 2009. ‘Mr. Clementi’. The Quarterly Musical Magazine & Review 2, no. 7 (1820): 308–​16. Nex, Jenny, ‘Longman & Broderip’. In The Music Trade in Georgian England, edited by Michael Kassler, 9–​93. Farnham: Ashgate, 2011. Piozzi, Hester Lynch. Thraliana:  The Diary of Mrs. Hester Lynch Thrale (Later Mrs Piozzi) 1776–​1809, edited by Katherine C. Balderston, 2 vols. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1942. Plantinga, Leon. ‘Clementi, Muzio’. Revised by Luca Lévi Sala. Grove Music Online. https://​doi.org/​10.1093/​gmo/​9781561592630.article.40033 Rosenblum, Sandra P. Performance Practices in Classic Piano Music:  Their Principles and Applications. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1988. Rowland, David. ‘Clementi’s Music Business’. In The Music Trade in Georgian England, edited by Michael Kassler, 125–​57. Farnham: Ashgate, 2011. Sainsbury, John. A Dictionary of Musicians, from the Earliest Ages to the Present Time. Comprising the Most Important Biographical Contents of the Works of Gerber, Choron, and Fayolle, Count Orloff, Dr. Burney, Sir John Hawkins, &c. &c. Together with Upwards of a Hundred Original Memoirs of the Most Eminent Living Musicians; and a Summary of the History of Music. London: Sainsbury & Co, 1824. Skowroneck, Tilman. Beethoven the Pianist. Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 2010. Soderlund, Sandra. How Did They Play? How Did They Teach? A  History of Keyboard Technique. Chapel Hill, NC: Hinshaw Music, 2006. Somerville, Mary. Personal Recollections, from Early Life to Old Age of Mary Somerville: With Selections from Her Correspondence. By Her Daughter, Martha Somerville. Boston, MA:  Roberts Brothers, 1874. Accessed 10 June 2020. https://​archive.org/​details/​ personalrecolle04somegoog. Weber, William. ‘The Eighteenth-​Century Origins of the Musical Canon’. Journal of the Royal Musical Association 114, no. 1 (1989): 6–​17. –​–​–.​‘The History of Musical Canon’. In Rethinking Music, edited by Nicholas Cook and Mark Everest, 336–​55. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999. The Young Lady’s Book, a Manual of Elegant Recreations, Exercises, and Pursuits. London: Vizetelly, Branston, and Co., 1829.

Published music scores and instruction books Beethoven, Ludwig van. Variations pour le piano forte, sur le thême God save the King. London: Clementi, Banger, Hyde, Collard et Davis, [1804]. –​–​–​. Beethoven’s ‘Hallelujah’, from ‘the Mount of Olives’. Arranged for Organ or Pianoforte, by J.F. Burrowes. London: Cramer, Addison & Beale, [1831].

40  Penelope Cave –​–​–​. Beethoven’s Celebrated Hallelujah Chorus, from the Oratorio of the Mount of the Olives, Arranged as a Duett for Two Performers on the Pianoforte, with an Accompaniment for Harp (ad lib.) by D. Bruguier. London: Rutter & McCarthy, [1820]. Bland, John. Bland’s Collection. Lessons, Divertimentos, Sonatas, Overtures, Concertos, Duetts &c. &c. for the Harpsichord or Piano-​Forte with & without, Accompanyments, Selected from the Works of the First Composers. London: J. Bland, [1790–​1794]. Clementi, Muzio. Clementi’s Introduction to the Art of Playing on the Piano Forte Containing the Elements of Music Preliminary Notions on Fingering with Examples and Fifty Fingered Lessons, in the Major and Minor Keys Mostly in Use, by Composers of the First Rank,Ancient and Modern to Which Are Prefixed Short Preludes by the Author…, London: Clementi, Bangor, Hyde, Collard & Davis, 1801. Clementi, Muzio. Scarlatti’s Chefs-​d’oeuvre: For the Harpsichord or Piano-​Forte: Selected from an Elegant Collection of Manuscripts, in the Possession of Muzio Clementi. London, 1791. Cramer. Johann Baptist. J.B. Cramer’s Instructions for the Piano Forte, in Which the First Rudiments of Music Are Clearly Explained and the Principal Rules on the Art of Fingering Illustrated, with Numerous and Appropriate Examples: To Which Are Added Lessons, in the Principal, Major & Minor Keys with a Prelude to Each Key Composed & Fingered by the Author. London: S. Chappell, Fourth ed. [1826], First published 1821[?]‌. Dramatic Airs, from English, Italian, German and French Operas, Arranged as Rondos for the Piano-​Forte. London:  Goulding, D’Almaine, Potter and Clementi and Co, and Chappell and Co., 1818. Fétis, François-​Joseph. Sweet Remembrance, a Fantasia with Variations for the Piano Forte on a Harp Melody Sung by Madame Malibran. London: I. Willis, [1829]. [Friedrich II], King of Prussia. Lesson for the Harpsichord or Piano-​Forte. London: printed for J. Preston, [1775]. Graupner, Johann Christian Gottlieb. Rudiments of the Art of Playing on the Piano Forte:  Containing Elements of Music, Preliminary Remarks on Fingering with Examples, Thirty Fingered Lessons, and a Plain Direction for Tuning. Boston, MA: Graupner, 1819. The Harpsichord Preceptor; Being a New and Complete Introduction to Playing the Harpsicord, Organ, or Piano Forte: Containing a Familiar Elucidation of the First Principles of Music, with the Most Modern, Elegant, and Correct Method of Playing the above Instruments: Thirty Easy and Pleasing Lessons in Various Keys, Progressively Arranged, with Preludes, Canzonets, and a Duet for Two Performers: The Whole Calculated (on a Novel and Interesting Plan) to Ease the Master, and Greatly Facilitate the Improvement of Pupils. London:  S. A.  & P. Thompson, [1785?]. Haydn, Joseph. The Chorusses, in Haydn’s Oratorio,The Creation, No. 1. ‘Now Vanish Before’. and No. 6. ‘By Thee with Bliss’. Selected and Arranged, for Two Performers on the Piano Forte, by W. Watts. London: Cramer, Addison & Beale, [1832]. –​–​–​. ‘The Surprize. A Duett for the piano forte. London: Broderip & Wilkinson, [1798]. Hook, James. Guida di musica, Being a Complete Book of Instructions for Beginners on the Harpsichord or Piano Forte … to Which is Added 24 Progressive Lessons. London:  J. Preston, [1785]. –​–​–​. Second Part, Consisting of Several Hundred Examples of Fingering … and Six Exercises … to Which Is Added, a Short … Method of Learning Thoro’ bass …. London: J. Preston, [1794]. –​–​–​. The Preceptor for Piano-​Forte, the Organ or Harpsichord … To Which Is Added Two Celebrated Lessons by James Hook. [Followed by ‘An Approved Method of Tuning the Harpsichord, Spinnet, Or Piano-​Forte’.]. London: printed for T. Skillern, [1795?].

Meeting the masters  41 –​–​–​. New Guida di musica, Being a Complete Book of Instructions for Beginners on the Harpsichord or Piano Forte … to Which Is Added 24 Progressive Lessons. London: A. Bland & Weller, [1796]. Latour, [Francis Tatton]. New and Improved Method of Instruction for the Piano-​Forte, in Which the First Rudiments of Music & the Art of Fingering Are Clearly Explained. Illustrated with Numerous Examples, Exercises, Preludes and Lessons in the Principal Major & Minor Keys, Composed and Fingered by the Author. London: S. Chappell, 1827. –​–​–​. Airs à la Pasta arranged for the Piano Forte. London: F. T. Latour, 1829. –​–​–​. Imitations of Many of the Most Eminent Professors in Twenty-​Six Variations on the Favorite Gavot in [the Opera of] Achille et Deidamie for the Piano Forte, with an Accompaniment for the Flute (ad libitum). Composed & Dedicated to His Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex by T. Latour, pianist to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales. London: Robert Birchall, 1808. Miller, Edward. Institutes of Music, or Easy Instructions for the Harpsichord to Which Are Added Lessons for Practice, etc. London: Longman & Broderip, [after 1773]. Nares, James. Il principio, or A Regular Introduction to Playing on the Harpsichord or Organ. London: Welcker [1759?]. Operatic Airs, the Subjects Taken from the Most Approved Operas, Italian, English, &c. &c. and Arranged for the Piano-​Forte with an Introductory Movement to Each, by the Most Eminent Authors. London: Goulding, D’Almaine, Potter & Co., Clementi & Co. and Chappell & Co., [1819]. Rameau, Jean-​Philippe. A Collection of Lessons for the Harpsicord. Opera Seconda. London: printed for J. Walsh, [1760]. Sala, Luca Levi, and Rohan H. Stewart-​MacDonald, eds. Muzio Clementi and British Musical Culture. Sources, Performance Practice and Style. London: Routledge, 2018. Six Solos for a German Flute or Violin with a Thorough Bass for the Harpsichord or Violoncello. Compos’d by Several Eminent Authors. Not Printed Before. London: J. Walsh, [1761]. Steibelt, Daniel. The Storm, a Celebrated Rondo, for the Piano Forte, with or without the Additional Keys, etc. London: G. Walker, [WM 1811]. Thalberg, Sigismond. Fantasias du Souvenir theatral, quatre fantaisies brillantes, pour le piano, sur les motifs de Bellini, et Mozart, Op.14. London: Wessel & Co, [1845?]. Wölfl, Joseph. Grand Sonata for the Harp, in Which Is Introduced a Avorite Air of Cosi fan Tutte [by W. A. Mozart]. London, n.p. [1825?].

Archival sources Devon Archive and Local Studies Deeds, estate papers, family papers. Acland of Killerton, 14th century–​19th century. 1148 M. Devon Heritage Centre.

Tatton Park, Cheshire Bland, John. Bland’s Collection (continued by F. Linley) of Sonatas, Lessons, Overtures, Capricios, Divertimentos, &c, &c for the harpsichord or pianoforte without accompaniment, by the Most Esteemed Composers. NT 3072417. Accessed 17 June 2020. www.nationaltrustcollections.org.uk/​object/​3072418/​.

42  Penelope Cave Cramer, Jean-​Baptist [sic]. Instructions for the piano forte; in which the first rudiments of music are clearly explained … to which are added lessons in the principal major and minor keys … (by) J.B. Cramer. NT 3077280. Accessed 17 June 2020. www. nationaltrustcollections.org.uk/​ object/​3077280/​.

University of Southampton Library: Additional Collections The Austen Family Music Collection. Accessed 8 June 2020. https://​archive.org/​ details/​austenfamilymusicbooks

3  Canonisation of the danced minuet over centuries Dóra Kiss

Introduction As a concept, ‘canon’ is polysemous. It is fundamental in many fields and can be useful for many perspectives.1 It is therefore necessary to define and redefine the concept behind the word while it is used. To me –​and in this chapter related to the dance and the musicology field –​ a canon corresponds to a theoretical construction. It is considered valuable in a given cultural context, and it tends to establish aesthetic norms.To be more precise, in the field of dance, a canon can be a style representative of a time and a place, and it can be a form representative of this style. For example, the belle dance, a style associated with the eighteenth century and France, can be a canon as a style, and the minuet can be a canonical form of that style. The minuet was a common dance in the eighteenth century; for different purposes, it has been simplified and summarised from that period until now. Theoretically based ideal versions of the dance, also called ‘minuets’, appeared. These minuets were canons and were mainly created in (or for) the field of dance and music. But they are still interesting as a very particular phenomenon: the process of canonisation. I will demonstrate that the process of canonisation of the minuet is not unique, but was repeated by different authors, in different places and periods. Consequently, today, we can consider that several minuets, so-​called canons, co-​exist. I will thus analyse several theoretical definitions of the minuet across time. I will also pay attention to any eventual reinterpretations, variations, or inventions that may appear at the border of these canonical forms of the minuet, and I will analyse different practical examples of minuets (notated dance, a picture of dancing people). Referring to primary and secondary sources, my purpose is to consider the process of canonisation of the minuet from a critical perspective, mingled with curiosity.

Belle danse as a canon Belle danse developed in France from the middle of the seventeenth century till the end of the eighteenth century. At that time, it spread throughout Europe,

44  Dóra Kiss from France to Portugal, Poland, England, Italy, and Germany. Belle danse, therefore, can be regarded as a widely shared style, with distinctive characteristics when compared with previous and later styles.2 The choreography involves three significant characteristics: a precise dance–​music relationship, for example, the organisation of body movements according to musical rhythms and dynamics; a common use of defined shapes and movements in space; and a particular vocabulary for steps including very frequent demi-​pointes or demi-​ pliés –​ which, before belle danse, were rarely part of dance styles in the early seventeenth and sixteenth centuries. We can associate belle danse with historic figures, such as the theoretician Pierre Rameau (1674–​1748), the choreographer and dance theoretician Pierre Beauchamps (1631–​1705) or other famous male and female dancers of the time.3 We also associate belle danse with more well-​known personalities, such as the composer Jean-​Baptiste Lully (1632–​1687) or King Louis XIV (1638–​ 1715). This association between well-​known artists or figures of power, or authorities, and a dance style illustrates a process of high valorisation of the style that I call here ‘canonisation’. Indeed, from the seventeenth century up to now, the definition, normalisation, valorisation, formalisation, and instrumentation of the belle danse have been of such an extent that we can say that this style became a point of reference and thus a canon.4 This certainly did not happen by chance. It was during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries that belle danse was first validated and normalised. In 1662, the Académie royale de danse was established in Paris. It regulated the terms and conditions of teaching dance, which favoured the control by certain masters of an acceptable form of dancing. This canonisation meant achievement, diffusion, and success. From the beginning of the eighteenth century, belle danse was spread throughout Europe as a cultural marker, as it was very important in and for France as a cultural model. Numerous and various written sources testify to this double significance.They might be compared to the works of grammarians of the time towards language. Manuscript or printed, these sources can rely on verbal (in the case of description), codified (in the case of Beauchamps–​Feuillet notation), or iconographic materials. Manuscript and printed sources devoted to codification (of steps, types of dances, and, finally, belle danse style) take the shape of ‘choreo-​graphies’ or ‘drawn dances’. Originally executed by one or more dancers, they are said to be ‘put on the paper’, to use the words of one of the collections that was published in 1704;5 and indeed, the ‘choreo-​graphies’ consist of printed or manuscript drawings that tend to represent bodily movements as they were literally organised in time and space. Today, we could either call them ‘documented dances’ or ‘scores’ if we think that they could be compared with sources devoted to pieces of music. More than 331 hand-​ written or edited ‘choreo-​ graphies’ of the eighteenth century still exist today. These ‘scores’ are mostly notated in the so-​called Beauchamps–​Feuillet notation.6 The existence of this notational system and the use of it are evidence of the importance of the art of dancing at that time. But because dance was considered of great prestige, the notation has also been put

Canonisation of the danced minuet  45 to the service of achieving certain objectives, to do with aims external to dance, such as morality, economics, and, last but not least, politics. In other words, the belle danse canon was encouraged to spread throughout Europe because it was representative of the high culture of France, and because France wanted to become the leading power in Europe.7 Political issues dominated the belle danse canonisation process, but morality issues were also important. Indeed, belle danse became a tool for shaping the model of l’honnête homme –​who would preferably dance and not kill.8 The success of belle danse is a sign that the ideal man is becoming more civilised at the turn of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In that perspective, belle danse had to be mastered by individuals who wished to incorporate the ideal of the honnête homme. Alongside horse-​r iding and fencing, dancing signified the interior qualities of self-​control, elegance and nobleness. Dance in this context should not be improvised, comic, or popular. In particular, in seventeenth-​and, especially, eighteenth-​century sources, writers who defended the choreographic arts described professional and non-​professional courtiers (or non-​professional and professional artists such as dancers) as possessing specific qualities such as balance, refinement, and precision.9 Furthermore, eighteenth-​century dance sources point out that training in dance was necessary in order to gain these specific qualities. So, dance had to be accepted as a regular activity. According to Pierre Rameau, for example, who wrote Le Maître à danser in 1725, ‘it is thanks to the exercise of Dance that we behave with this elegance and style that typify our Nation, in society’.10 The corporeal behaviour explicitly had to be trained, and belle danse corresponded with the model of a trained corporeal behaviour. This behaviour could be described: it had technical characteristics. And it metaphorically illustrated morality. As a very pragmatic result, no extended body movements were admitted in belle danse. However, belle danse was not limited to this issue; it was also a dance technique that illustrated the potential virtuosity of the art of choreography. With this style and for the first time in occidental dance history, a dance technique employed the use of marked en-​dehors (outward) positions of the feet, knees, and ankles.This technical specificity meant that dancers had to train for these rather unnatural positions of the limbs. Because of the outward positions, which had more an aesthetic than an ethical application, the choreography could admit some ornamental, virtuosic, and, expressive steps. In other words, dancers or dance students concerned with belle danse did not only have to gain an admirable posture, they also had to master bodily techniques and physical ‘rhetoric’, and had to master steps and figures that could be quite demanding. This complexity of belle danse is represented variously across the sources. According to Rameau, 14 important steps could constitute the basic lexicon of belle danse. However, in consulting more treatises, one finds that 67 steps are mentioned between 1700 and 1797. Thus, it appears that belle danse was a complex choreographic language insofar as its steps could be varied:  they might go forwards, sideways, backwards, or be executed on the spot; they might also be ornamented with, for example, a rond de jambe, another movement or

46  Dóra Kiss another jump, or with several ornaments.11 Of course, these steps were inherited partially from fifteenth-​to seventeenth-​century Spanish, Italian, or French dancing, and would have a long future. The fleuret, for example, which consists of three steps forward, is described from the time of Thoinot Arbeau (1588) up to the present day, for example, by modern jazz theoreticians, who borrow the eighteenth-​century name pas de bourrée.12 Nevertheless, part of the lexicon of belle danse steps is today distinct from former and subsequent dance styles. I have mentioned so far three aspects of belle danse which demonstrate (partially) that it was a defined standard. That is to say, it was choreographed according to strict principles:  Europe-​ wide practice according to French standards, bodily techniques associated with the dance, and characteristic vocabulary of steps.13 Thus, belle danse had its own defining principles that had to be achieved through training, and this training guaranteed a quality of bodily behaviour that was essential to social integration and success. There are, however, at least three other reasons for recognising the process of canonisation of belle danse. Indeed, the written documentation of the eighteenth century presents belle danse as an accomplished choreographic style. Firstly, the written sources demonstrate a canonisation concerning the so-​called chemin:  belle danse was characterised by shapes or patterns designed on the floor by dancers. In French treatises, shapes were indeed labelled chemin (track or path), and when a choreographic piece is represented by Beauchamps–​ Feuillet notation, it involves several pages of ‘score’, with every page representing a shape or pattern. Steps were written alongside this shape or pattern to show the specific choreography that was encoded.14 When ascribed for two dancers, these shapes or patterns generally adopted a symmetric or parallel organisation which partially characterise the belle danse style. Secondly, belle danse was choreographed in relation to music; therefore, music had the role of supporting the dancing. According to Eugénia Roucher-​ Kougioumtzoglou, belle danse was characterised by its dynamic organisation respecting the metre and the character of the music. Dancers would bend their knees on the upbeat and then stretch them on the strong beat, most probably while stepping in a particular direction.15 While there is a danger that such an assertion is deemed too general or too vague to be helpful (as in Borin’s description of the cadence), it can be viewed as demonstrating the process of canonisation of belle danse.16 And such canonisation clearly goes on long after the eighteenth century. Thirdly, belle danse consisted of different forms or caractères de danse (types of dance).These caractères evolved in both the choreographic and the musical field, some of which are very well known as they are included in baroque dance suites. They generally refer to belle danse style, such as courantes, sarabandes, or gigues. Some character dances are more traditionally associated with French dancing, such as the loure or the musette. Furthermore, several of these dances were favoured by seventeenth-​and eighteenth-​century English musicians, despite the supposed Spanish origin of some of these dances, such as the chaconne or the passacaille; others, such as the hornpipe, did apparently have British origins.

Canonisation of the danced minuet  47 But there is one character dance which is still present in the collective consciousness as an emblem of the Ancien Régime and which crosses all borders.This very specific dance was often described in manuscripts or printed texts, and is still today in critical essays devoted to belle danse style. It is often mentioned as representative of both the aesthetic and social aspects and of the moral dimension of the art of dancing that characterised the eighteenth century. Thus, it is often used in contemporary representations of the eighteenth century, in theatre pieces and in films.This very well-​known caractère de danse is the minuet. For sure, it is very tempting to reduce the practice of such a dance –​which had, and still has, a great importance for the representation of a style –​to simplified and regular versions. But how and when did this commonplace dance become canonised? Was this canonisation observed during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and can it be observed today? And if ‘yes’, what is the effect of such canonisation?

How could the eighteenth-​century minuet be presented as canonical? At the end of his article ‘The Minuet According to Taubert’, Tilden Russell presents one of the contemporary attempts to canonise the eighteenth-​century minuet. This canonisation is particularly effective because it has a high level of abstraction: The art of dance –​ prosaic and poetic –​ was a God-​given means of physical and moral improvement for postlapsarian humanity to reclaim our perfection before the Fall, or at least to advance in that direction. This perfectibility was to be realised through the teaching of Sitten-Lehre, which can be concisely translated as etiquette but which literally means the outward or physical expression of an upright character, and it is this full meaning that Taubert has in mind every time he uses the word. Dance is a branch … of Sitten-​Lehre.Therefore, a person who dances well is virtuous, righteous, and comely, and the act of dancing well is a way of praising God… Does this ask too much of the minuet? Taubert would not think so. The minuet is, after all, at the very heart of his project for the regeneration of fallen man.When, several decades after the publication of the Rechtschaffener Tantzmeister, the dancing master Marcel (d. 1759) famously said: ‘What a lot of things in a minuet!’, he could have had no inkling of Gottfried Taubert and his grand conception of the minuet in the cosmic scheme of things.17 Here, Russell adopts a phenomenological view of the minuet while concentrating on its effect. He indeed highlights that dancing the minuet or watching it is to be compared with the act of praying to God. In doing so, Russell underlines the ‘perfection before the Fall’ which the minuet dancers should ‘reclaim’, and more specifically the ‘outward or physical expression of an upright character’ that is certainly necessary for executing an embodied prayer. I would add that if

48  Dóra Kiss the minuet had such an implication and if it had such an impact in the baroque period, it certainly had a higher quality of affect compared with other character dances. But Russell’s assertion also means that the execution of the minuet should be consistent, and, thus, it should have a number of rules which the dancers had to follow. Therefore, ‘we’ –​ that is, dancers, dance observers, dance theoreticians, and musicologists  –​ should be alert about the technical aspects of the dance. Nevertheless, Russell does not explain which features characterise the minuet. I would therefore suggest that canonisation of the minuet was still ongoing at the time Russell wrote his article (1999).

Rules about spacing I will now draw on older sources that provide information on the formal specifications of the minuet.The characteristic shape of the eighteenth-​century minuet is often described as S or Z. This shape is mentioned in well-​known treatises from the flourishing period of the belle danse:  Le Maître à danser of Rameau, Il trattato del ballo nobile of Giambatista Dufort (1728), and The art of dancing of Kellom Tomlinson (1735) among others. The S-​or Z-​shape is also mentioned later on, for example, by Gottfried Hänsel (1755) and Charles Compan (1787), two theoreticians that today are not necessarily well known. In some cases, written descriptions of the S-​or Z-​shape could be accompanied by engraved images. These engravings were sometimes choreographic ‘scores’ in Beauchamps-​Feuillet notation. The S-​or Z-​shape can be taken as specific for the minuet because it is not to be found in other documented dances using Beauchamps–​Feuillet notation, such as courantes, bourrées, sarabandes, passacailles, gigues, or musettes. Moreover, those dances do not have characteristic patterns. On the contrary, each piece of music is differently interpreted through a specific choreography. Nowadays, theoreticians may consider that other shapes in the minuet are conventional. Eric McKee, for example, asserts that the shapes are consistently organised in a specific order: Step-​units were combined to form symmetrical floor patterns called ‘figures’, typically comprising four to eight step-​ units and thus requiring eight to sixteen bars of music to complete. Figure 1.1. reproduces a plate from Kellom Tomlinson’s 1735 treatise The Art of Dancing. It illustrates the standard succession of six figures for the menuet ordinaire:  (1) the introduction, (2)  the S reversed, (3)  the presenting of the right arm, (4)  the presenting of the left arm, (5)  the S reversed, and (6)  the presenting of both arms and conclusion. Each of the figures shown comprises eight dance steps, which Tomlinson has numbered (in very small print) within the figures. Since each figure comprises eight step-​units, and the step-​unit involves two bars, the eight-​bar musical strains composed by Tomlinson for each figure would need to be repeated to conform to the sixteen-​bar figures. Thus, in this particular diagram the large-​scale melodic design is congruent with the figures of the dance. The entire dance is preceded by

Canonisation of the danced minuet  49 and concluded with references to the highest-​ranking personage (seated at the top of the hall or dancing space) as well as to one’s partner. Tomlinson does not provide music for the gestures.18 In that extract, McKee mentions the S figure (sometimes called the Z figure) and the moulin figure –​ as it will be named later (he describes moulin main droite; moulin main gauche; moulin des deux mains). He explains that the described plate of Tomlinson presents a ‘standard version’ of the minuet, yet McKee also refers to the same plate as a ‘particular diagram’. The canonisation of a dance depends on how it is represented. And manuals do provide ‘ideal rather than realistic notion of how the social minuet was danced’.19 Firstly, Tomlinson proposed a canonical version of the minuet. He called it the ordinary minuet. With this name, he claimed to present a standard version perfect to be adopted widely. Secondly, McKee, while referring to Tomlinson’s menuet ordinaire as a canon, allows the reader as dance critic, to accept that what Tomlinson constructed as a canon is indeed a canon, especially with the assumption that Tomlinson’s plate is a reliable and well-​established version of the minuet (which is not the case if we refer to other sources).20 However, there is a contradiction in the quoted extract of Decorum of the Minuet: when McKee calls Tomlinson’s plate a ‘particular diagram’, he implicitly questions the hierarchy that Tomlinson tried to institute between ‘his’ version of the minuet and the individual versions that co-​existed at his time. Indeed, the ‘particular diagram’ seems to be one specific case of canonisation, and not the canon itself. The eighteenth-​century minuet in all its complexity might well today be considered lost. Aside from the written versions, the minuet also belonged to an oral tradition about three centuries ago, and this oral tradition continued.21 My suggestion here implies that written versions of a dance often re-​evaluate prior versions of a living dance; in that perspective, every description of a dance is part of a process that is independent of what it describes. In other words, the eighteenth-​century minuet is a dance which was constructed and reconstructed in written sources for specific purposes.These purposes we often ignore, if only partially.Twenty-​first-​century canonisation of the eighteenth-​century minuet is another process, which may be constructed upon written sources of the eighteenth century. But this current process must be considered in its own context. The twenty-​first century is a context, for example, in which scholars’ proposals and dancers’ proposals are often complementary rather than concordant. In other words, if canonisations of the eighteenth-​century minuet exist, they are more numerous in the twenty-​first century than ever before. As a consequence, twenty-​first-​century dancers and scholars find it difficult to decide which reality or which fiction of a specific dance is reflected, in each canon.

Rules about steps Russell presented a quintessence of the canonisation of the minuet, which was remarkably abstract, in the quoted extract above. Moreover, he produced many articles and at least one book on the minuet. In these writings, he at times

50  Dóra Kiss concentrates on prosaic characteristics that may help us to know if there is a basic canon of the minuet. For example, in the article ‘Minuet Form and Phraseology’, he refers to the minuet Gottfried Taubert praised. He focuses particularly on a possible uniformity of the minuet steps by quoting another well-​known theoretician: in 1762, Giovanni-​Andrea Gallini praised the minuet because of ‘the possibility of dancing it to so many different airs, though the steps are invariable’.22 Reading this short extract of Gallini quoted by Russell, we could believe that Russell considers today that there is one true and reliable rule for the minuet: this dance is made of only one step. On one hand, considering Gallini’s remark, I  must admit that there are a number of authors who claim that the minuet steps are applied consistently across all minuets and the application of this rule contributes to constituting the minuet canon. However, I also observe that there is no methodical application of the minuet step in documented dances. For example, first in La Bourée d’Achille, one of the most famous ‘choreo-​graphies’ referring to the ball (which contains a minuet), contretemps de menuet are used as well as minuet steps.23 Secondly, in a ‘score’ such as the Menuet à deux pour un homme et une femme, which refers to the stage repertory, the lexicon of steps is much more varied than in La Bourrée d’Achille.24 Indeed, alongside minuet steps and the commonly represented contretemps de menuet, this notated dance indicates steps such as demi-​ coupé battu, coupé, tombé, coupé battu, and contretemps jeté. From the eighteenth century till today, theoretical sources present a canonised minuet.25 But this canon is simplified compared with specific minuets.26 Yet, theoreticians assert that the minuet step is only used in the caractère de danse called minuet, whereas the pas de bourrée can be found not only in the bourrée but also in many more character dances, such as sarabandes, gigues, passacailles, rigaudons, and so on. However, this assertion needs to be nuanced. Documented dances in Beauchamps–​Feuillet notation demonstrate that the minuet steps are also used in passepied (e.g. in Le passepied).27 Furthermore, they sometimes appear in other pieces, for example, in the Entrée pour un homme et une femme.28 To sum up, the canonical definition of the minuet favours a regular relationship between the minuet as a caractère de danse and the lexicon of the minuet.The canon of the minuet suggests incorrectly that the minuet is the only dance that repeats the so-​called pas de menuet. And it also suggests that the caractère called the minuet should only make use of this one step, which is rarely illustrated in ‘choreo-​ graphies’. The minuet canon thus denies a flexible connection between the identity of a dance and its lexical components. That is to say, the minuet canon is useful to have a general idea about the danced minuet, but it also implies that the process of interpretation and production of isolated cases is somehow denied, and it undervalues the fact that ‘exceptions’ (which were very frequent) were not only admitted but also appreciated. My last point about rules of steps concerns the so-​called minuet steps, for theoreticians generally consider that these steps have reliable and consistent characteristics. For example, around 1710, Claude-​Marc Magny explained that the minuet step is a composition of several shifts of the body weight:  ‘The

Canonisation of the danced minuet  51 minuet step is composed of four simple steps; now we name the first demi-​coupé and the three linked others a fleuret’.29 But during the twentieth century, things changed, surprisingly. For example, when proposing a general definition of the minuet step, McKee adopted another form of explanation. This form affected the content of the definition: In the minuet, the principal step-​unit is the pas de menuet, which contains four changes of weight, always beginning with the right foot (RLRL). The pas de menuet requires six beats in ¾ time to complete and begins on the upbeat with the bending of the knees. The bending of the knees, often referred to as a ‘sink’ or ‘plié’, prepares the dancer for a rise or spring on the downbeat.30 McKee underlined technical elements of the minuet step without presenting his references. However, most of these elements are concordant with those to be found in important eighteenth-​century treatises, for example, Le maître à danser by Rameau, Der Rechtschaffener Tanzmeister by Taubert, or The Art of Dancing by Tomlinson. Some elements are also consistent with the quoted extract of Magny. To be more specific, in McKee’s extract, as in those four treatises, the minuet step is first said to consist of four shifts of body weight. Secondly, it is said that the dancer should start the minuet step on the downbeat, with a shift of the body weight from the left to the right foot. And thirdly, consequently, and because the minuet step consists of four body shifts, it should be possible to summarise the step with those letters that McKee has chosen: RLRL. Interestingly, ‘choreo-​graphies’ such as Bourrée d’Achille and the Menuet à deux (as the majority of notated minuets, except, e.g., from some steps of the ‘Menuet performd’ by Mrs Santlow’) show minuet steps with four shifts of the body weight, and those steps start with the right foot.31 For once, theoretical and practical sources of the eighteenth century are mostly in agreement. Therefore, it is possible to develop a canonical representation of the minuet steps based on these two characteristics: number of body shifts and starting feet. Nevertheless, in the quoted extract, McKee could not represent the minuet step according to his sources, for one reason. As I  understand the preceding quote of McKee, he proposed that the first relevé made by the right foot could also be a spring.Therefore, it seems that the canonical minuet step-​unit could be done with a jump on the downbeat of the first ¾ bar. But as far as I know, none of the eighteenth-​century sources mention such a possibility: neither published sources of the eighteenth century nor other twenty-​ first-​ century dance scholars. In other words, McKee presented a canonical form of the minuet step in the sense that he tried to normalise it. But the resulting step, depending on the reader’s interpretation, could be new on a technical level. Interestingly, both the reformulation and the reinvention McKee proposed participate in the definition of a particular dynamic of the dance. Indeed, they imply an articulation that does not follow the musical one, and they implicitly indicate a very quick tempo (as a matter of fact, to form a jump, the plié has to be quickly followed

52  Dóra Kiss by the relevé). Moreover, after this jump, the relevé could not last long due to a question of balance. Finally, while denying eighteenth-​century characteristics of the historical form of the minuet steps, McKee proposed an alternative. This alternative could well be concordant with the choice of many French conductors:  they often adopt quick tempi for seventeenth-​and eighteenth-​ century dances, specifically for the minuet. In other words, the canon McKee proposed in the quoted extract is very interesting in that it might translate some general, contemporary thoughts about the minuet. These quick tempi are taken as available in the musical and musicological context of the twenty-​first century, despite the fact that they were not necessarily admitted during the eighteenth century, at least for the context of social dancing.32

A changing minuet During the twenty-​first century, some versions of the minuet steps are well known, and asserted as canonical forms. Several of those asserted canonical forms are based on ancient sources, and those asserted canons are considered to be more or less correct, depending on the perspective, especially depending on the cultural background. For example, a French dancer will probably rely on French sources, and an English dancer on English sources. On the other hand, scholars also want to assert ancient canons. But as I demonstrated with my comment on an element of an article by McKee, instead, some scholars do not assert ancient canons but reinforce new ones. Due to McKee’s minuet steps, the tempo of the dance should be very quick, which does not correspond to the practice of the eighteenth century. Indeed, the minuet was of a moderate tempo, and the passepied was a quick version of the minuet. There is a result of these opposing attitudes of contemporary dancers and scholars: a large number of minuet forms, considered to be canonical, co-​exist today. During the eighteenth century, such a collection of canons existed already.33 Moreover, we can find examples of minuets that correspond at least partially to canonical forms as they were described, and alternative versions. These alternatives prove that the canon never prevented variation or invention, but those alternatives should not necessarily be considered canonic, for two reasons: (1) inventions are not normative but specific and (2) specific versions are not contradictory but complementary to canonical (or pseudo-​canonical) versions. Therefore, in the case of a danced or instrumental form, a canon has to be understood as a point of reference. From that reference, varied versions of the same caractère can be developed. During the golden age of the minuet, in the eighteenth century, theories and treatises necessarily presented points of reference. In that perspective, some rules have to be understood as a middle point that makes the link between previous aesthetical developments and later playful transgressions. Indeed, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, years before Joseph Haydn wrote his first scherzo (which is a particularly free reinterpretation of the old danced minuet created for a strictly instrumental interpretation), transgressions

Canonisation of the danced minuet  53 particularly highlighted that there was an area of liberty in executing minuets. Rules were established for the minuet, which was a rather formal dance, but these rules did not entirely constrain it. From the earliest practice, the minuet as caractère had both a constructed identity and an inspiring ethos. This ethos made possible the emergence of unique versions of the minuet. These versions did not simply respect the canon, but played with it. They were precisely unique and stimulating because they used identical and distorted elements without any idea of a hierarchy of the first compared with the second. To conclude the preceding point and to introduce my last one, a canonical minuet is a choreographic form produced by an author in a given context. Proposals of a contemporary canonical version of the minuet, such as the one of McKee, are in this way descriptive of the said author’s attitude towards sources, towards practice, and towards other contemporary dance scholars. However, we might generally accept that such an author adopts a posture of authority. This posture of authority can be very effective, but it has different effects. In this particular case, from the potential effects of McKee’s posture of authority, some questions are arising , such as: do the canonical forms of the minuet transmit a widely recognised truth? Or do they mainly confirm personal views on a subject? Do they induce future inventions or reinventions?

Playing with rules on spacing From my rather critical view on the process of canonisation of the minuet, I  will now refer to information I  have collected from various sources about the dance and organise them in my own perspective. The minuet is said to have a social function. It is a dance that favours the couple. Its major function is to allow partners to introduce themselves to each other, that is, to allow the partners who are going to dance together to get to know each other better. In other words, dancing is a tool for socialisation. But depending on the context, the role of this dancing couple varies. In the context of a private ball, the public comprises dancers, and the reverse, which means that the dancers consider their public as a manpower resource of partners. In the context of a public ball, where a portion of the public are observers, dancing the minuet was a way for the dancing couple to be presented to the assemblée, and overall it was a way for each dancer to be considered a member of a couple. This double social function of one and the same caractère determines the pattern and the succession of those patterns, which is the following. Firstly, dancers should bow to the public; secondly, they should bow to each other; thirdly, they should progress in space: they get ready to cross, then they do cross (S or Z figure). After that, they begin a group of circular figures: they present a hand to each other (first the right, then the left) and circle each time, after which they give both hands and circle. Finally, they prepare to go back to their initial place and signal farewell to their public. Nevertheless, with this double social function (within the couple, beyond the couple), the canon of the minuet testifies that the minuet was not limited to this function. For example, it could have a purer

54  Dóra Kiss cultural function inside operas or mélanges (a kind of show that was made up of extracts from theatrical pieces). The ‘choreo-​graphy’ called ‘Minuet of Mrs Santlow’, included in the 1725 A New Collection of Dances notated by François Le Roussau, which contains dance pieces attributed to Antony L’Abbé (1667–​ 1756), seems to correspond to such a theatrical dance. Indeed, Hester Santlow (1680–​1773), otherwise known as Hester Booth, was a very famous English dancer, and L’Abbé had an international career as a choreographer (for stage productions). Moreover, the ‘choreo-​graphy’ of the ‘Minuet of Mrs Santlow’ testifies to a theatrical use of the dance during the eighteenth century because of its components and characteristics.34 The ‘Minuet of Mrs Santlow’ is a solo dance; so we cannot consider it had the usual social function of a minuet. Because it was not a dance for a couple, it does not include the characteristic shapes such as giving one hand (right, left) and giving two hands. But neither, surprisingly, does it include any S-​or Z-​shapes. It uses underlying characteristics of these shapes, such as repetition of figures or equilibrium between lines and curves, but such characteristics are widely shared in all belle danse repertory and thus not specific to the minuet. The canon seems in this case to be a starting point for creating the type of variation I  have previously suggested. The specific minuet dedicated to Mrs. Santlow seems an exemplary piece of art; clearly referring to the conventions of the minuet, it nevertheless gives a taste of freedom and invention.

Playing with rules on the steps Here I  will point out the elements that help to understand why I  consider the minuet dedicated to Mrs. Santlow to be an exemplary piece of art which somehow deviates from the canon, and not a conventional social dance. I will also explain why my point of view might not be representative of the one people could have had in the eighteenth century. During the eighteenth century, theatrical dancing was considered inferior to social dancing for two reasons. Firstly, as an imitation, it was less natural and authentic. Secondly, as an artistic and artificial form, it was technically too demanding to respect social rules concerning manners and politeness. For those reasons, a menuet ordinaire, a minuet that could be danced in a social context and that was both conventional and respectful of rules, was a less complex and less demanding variant of the minuet, compared with the menuet figuré (Figure 3.1). As a matter of fact, rules concerning steps are not respected in the ‘Minuet of Mrs. Santlow’ as can be observed in this plate (see, e.g., page 21, bar 1: unusual chassés starting with the right foot; bar 2:  erratic minuet step starting with the left foot and having five body weight shifts; bar 6: intermediate solution between the usual pas de menuet and contretemps de menuet [it starts as a conventional pas de menuet with a simple change of body weight on the right foot but ends with a jump on the left foot as a conventional contretemps de menuet]; bars 11 and 12: unusual pirouette of a whole turn followed by a pirouette finissant jambe en l’air).Those lexical exceptions are substantial in the ‘Minuet of Mrs. Santlow’

Canonisation of the danced minuet  55

Figure 3.1 Antony L’Abbé, A New Collection of Dances. London. Barreau (c. 1725), p. 21. © Derra de Moroda Tanzarchives.

compared with what appears in other documented minuets handwritten or engraved during the eighteenth century.35 However, it does not appear that rules concerning steps have been consistently respected in the social and pedagogical context either. The way those rules –​sometime considered as strict today –​are presented in treatises could even testify that the minuet was probably not homogeneously practised: ‘It should

56  Dóra Kiss be known that the real minuet step is composed of four steps [or bodyweight changes] (which, because of their links, and according to the terms of the art, are nevertheless corresponding to only one [minuet] step)’.36 When Rameau claimed that there is a ‘real minuet step’, he had us suppose that he wished to be taken as one of the judges of dancing. But at the same time, by explaining only one ‘real step’, he had us think that there were ‘false steps’ he wanted his readers to renounce. If he defends ‘real steps’ against ‘false steps’, it implies that steps which he considered incorrect were performed by uninstructed students or teachers that were usurpers or rebellious.37 He clearly wished that such frauds would disappear, just as a grammarian of his time wanted French to be more regular, and less creative. The law Rameau tried to fix with regard to dancing the minuet probably was not respected before he taught it. His writing, in my opinion, proves that direct transmission was not efficient for controlling dance practices. Later, around 1760, belle danse was no longer recorded so much in notation.38 Belle danse was mentioned less and less in theoretical discussions about dancing, and when mentioned, it was not always positive.39 Belle danse seems already to have been old-​fashioned, and if it still was canonical, it was no longer exemplary for dance development. It was thus reduced to a point of reference, in the negative meaning of the word: a precise point in aesthetical history one should return to, to train one’s body and to learn elementary social skills (how to walk, bow, present one’s hand, etc.).40

Late versions of the minuet The minuet continued to be documented as a practice during the late eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth century. During that period, to a certain extent, the minuet practice was independent from any positive or negative evaluation of belle danse and in use because it was emblematic of the dancing of the Ancien Régime.41 The context is the following. At the very end of the eighteenth century, the revolution had taken place. Aristocracy had lost power, and cultural education was considered to be a right of the upper middle class. In this historical context, J. J. Martinet presented the minuet as an ancient and ideal dance, associated with grace and naturalness. Martinet’s perspective is illustrated, for example, in the following passage: The minuet has been neglected for a long time; it is no longer in use among social dances. However, it contains all principles of the [choreographic] art; and it is easy to demonstrate that one cannot dance it well, let alone correctly, without training. This dance develops [lower] limbs; it gives them graceful shapes, softness and precision of movements, poise and strength in bodily equilibrium; and if most of the dancers have forced manners, hard movement and uncertain balance, it comes from the fact that they ignore (or have not practiced enough) those elementary principles. Therefore,

Canonisation of the danced minuet  57 most modern dancers position themselves as if they were mannequins and move as if they were automatons. In consequence, I urge dance lovers not to neglect the minuet; it is very important to endeavour to learn it properly, for it is for the art of dancing what a, b, c are for words and discourse.42 This extract of Martinet’s treatise is an interesting case of re-​canonisation of the minuet. The author displaced the practice of the danced minuet from the artistic and aristocratic field to the bourgeois and domestic field. Indeed, his treatise was dedicated to mothers who were in charge of their children’s dance education, whether they had direct responsibility for dance education, or whether they had indirect responsibility, in that they had to choose a dance teacher for their children. In the second case, they had to have some criteria in mind in order to differentiate good dance teachers from bad ones. Martinet made as if his treatise could clarify those criteria. Although Martinet linked the minuet to dancing of the past, to a certain extent, he was rather innovative. Indeed, if we compare the descriptions of minuet steps founded, respectively, in Le Maître à danser of Rameau (1725) and Essais ou principes élémentaires de la danse of Martinet (1797), there are several resemblances. In both cases, the minuet seemed to use a restricted number of steps. In particular, Rameau proposed the minuet step and the contretemps de menuet. But in the text of Martinet, some other steps are added to Rameau’s list. One was already used by L’Abbé, but not described by a contemporary theoretician. Was it on the author’s initiative that this step was added? Did the author refer to a tradition that developed during the second half of the century? Only an extensive study of the minuet treatises could help assert that one of those hypotheses is stronger than the other. Due to space reasons, it is beyond the scope of this chapter to highlight other differences between the early versions of the eighteenth-​century minuet and the later versions at the end of the same century, for example, the rhythmic or dynamic relationship between dance and music.

Testimony of the minuet from the late eighteenth century to the present day: Reinventions or re-​canonisations? I found recently on the open digital collection Gallica an intriguing photography titled ‘Nogent, Breton feast, dance of the minuet’, a press photography.43 Firstly, as far as I know, the village named Nogent is not to be found in the contemporary Brittany, so the documented feast probably happened outside this area. Nevertheless, the organiser invited participants, the so-​called Bretons. Secondly, the said Bretons are not wearing the traditional dress of Brittany but are clothed in outfits appropriate for the upper middle class from the era of the Ancien Régime.Thirdly, unless the dancers were disguised in fancy outfits, the picture does not suggest a carnival event. Fourthly, it is unclear as to why people represented were dancing a minuet, for the minuet, unlike the gavotte, has not been incorporated into the popular repertory of Brittany. This photograph

58  Dóra Kiss

Figure 3.2 Nogent, Brittany. Feast with minuet dancing. Rol Press Agency. 1913 © Bibliothèque nationale de France.

raises many questions and only provides two certain pieces of information: that a dance called the minuet was performed on 18 May 1913 by a group of French amateurs and that the pictured dancers were of enough interest to be photographed (Figure 3.2). If counted within the collection of sources that document the minuet, the Nogent picture could perhaps make us think of a continuous practice of the minuet from the seventeenth century to the twentieth century. This means that the revival movement of the baroque dance that happened in 1980 in France under the influence of Francine Lancelot was certainly not a first attempt, in that country, to practise old dances.Those dances grouped under the name belle danse emerged in the context of the eighteenth century, but they now belong to an occidental choreographic history of over three centuries in duration, including the twenty-​first century. Insofar as the minuet was part of the belle danse style and is still danced in specific contexts today, it should be enclosed as part of our choreographic heritage.

Conclusion The question of whether one specific theorised minuet can be considered canonic remains difficult to answer. It is possible to argue that as a caractère de

Canonisation of the danced minuet  59 danse, the minuet was constructed as a canon from the seventeenth century, and more specifically during the eighteenth century. Belle danse style in general and the minuet had their own ontological issues: these issues were distinctive.Those issues corresponded to a clear aesthetic identity; consequently, its canonisation was worthwhile. But, paradoxically, from the moment the minuet became a canon, it was an internationally shared reference for choreographic arts. And because it became a part of choreographic practices all over Europe, it became susceptible to many influences, changes, and variations. All the asserted canons were somehow related to the French, but in different ways. In that sense, it could be admitted that during the eighteenth century, there existed one original canon and several secondary canons. On the other hand, there was clearly no unified version of the minuet during the eighteenth century, neither in treatises nor in ‘choreo-​g raphies’. And the more ancient reliable treatises of belle danse are not necessarily French. Significantly, Taubert published his treatise in 1717 and Rameau in 1725. Consequently, there was a significant number of variants and deviants of the minuet, which, moreover, sometimes had claimed to be the one and only canon. Secondly, there is no consensus today to admit any eighteenth-​ century canon as being the one. And for good reason, no consensus exists concerning criteria that would give any legitimacy to one canon, and not to another. As a result, from the eighteenth century till today, the minuet is rather an abstract model from which many canons can be claimed, be they generic or specific. It is possible to devise many variants, whether asserted models or anti-​models. To sum up, the minuet has always been changing, probably in many respects. And it has been changing not only because of its characteristics, but also because of its reception. Of course, the simple name of a dance, such as ‘minuet’, is sufficient to give a sense of a certain historical period, the eighteenth century, and a certain place, France; however, in my opinion, this sense does not have to be historically accurate or informed to be taken as true. Every version has its very particular truth, in that sense it informs both how this dance was or is practised, was or is imagined, and, sometimes, was or is mocked. The process of the minuet’s canonisation therefore depends on a view one could have on the minuet itself. Identifying this process helps us to think and rethink our choreographic history, and to understand what place is given in that history for invention and reinvention. Canonisation is a process that defines and categorises. This categorisation reveals that there are pretensions to authority in the field of practising and of theorising dance. But canonisation itself (which is theoretical) does not necessarily have a huge influence on the practice. Canonisation on one side has its own meaning. It is defined from within the context and in a certain point of view. And it can be taken into account in later contexts, and from various points of view. Dancing, on the other hand, has its own life, its own justification, its own criteria of legitimacy and of accuracy.

60  Dóra Kiss

Notes 1 In recent publications, some titles related to medicine, such as Lazarczyk, Marciej, ‘Beyond the canonical model of amyloid cascade –​a complex network of the regulatory mechanisms implicated in Alzheimer’s disease’ (2017), mathematics, such as Lavrauw, Michel and Sheekey, John, ‘Canonical forms of 2x3x3 tensors over the real field, algebraically closed fields, and finite fields’ (2015), or theology (e.g. Norelli, Enrico, Markion und der biblische Kanon (2016)). The concept of canon has also been used in the field of linguistics (see, e.g., Laura J.  Downing, ‘Canonical Forms in Prosodic Morphology’, Oxford, Oxford University Press, (2003)). 2 Belle danse is considered in this chapter as a cultural construction that depends at least partially on the context and on the perspective in which it is presented. 3 Female dancers such as Mademoiselle Guillot, Françoise Prévost or Marie-​Thérèse Perdou de Subligny and male dancers such as Monsieur Balon (Claude), David, François, and Henry Dumoulin, and François Robert Marcel have been among the most famous. 4 For a definition of the belle danse based on historical sources as attempts of canonisation, see Kiss, Saisir le mouvement, ‘La belle danse’, 83–​176. For a definition of belle danse as a canon, see Roucher-​Kougioumtzoglou, quoted in ‘Réflexions luminaires’, xi, in Lancelot, La belle danse; and also Hilton, Dance of Court & Theatre, 9, or Lecompte, Entre cours et jardins d’illusion, 213–​38. 5 Pécour, Recueil de dances. 6 Those ‘scores’ have been listed in both catalogues of the belle danse repertory edited, respectively, by Little and Marsh, La danse noble and Lancelot, La belle danse. For a specific study of the English repertory, see Goff and Thorp. ‘Dance Notations Published in England’. 7 For a canonisation of belle danse that relied on the contemporary topos of the importance of dance for French political purposes, see Little, Dance under Louis XIV and XV. 8 For definitions of l’honnête homme, see Castiglione, Il cortegiano; Faret, L’Honnête homme; and de Montaigne, Essais. 9 ‘La belle danse est une certaine finesse dans le mouvement au port au pas et dans toute la personne qui ne se peut ni exprimer ni enseigner par les paroles.’ (‘La belle danse possesses a delicacy of movement in the entire person, of bearing and of steps that cannot be expressed or taught through language.’) de Pure, Idée des spectacles, 180–​81. ‘[La danse] est une science qui montre à l’homme à régler les mouvements de son corps; à faire les gestes avec liberté, les pas avec fermeté et légèreté, et le tout mesuré et cadencé ; tant pour déployer les agréments que la nature lui a donné, que pour se disposer à toutes sortes de danses.’ (‘Dancing is a science that teaches humankind to control his bodily gestures; to move freely; to walk firmly in a measured and cadenced way; so as to spread the ornaments that nature has given him to prepare him to perform any kind of dance.’) Pauli, Éléments de la danse, 51. All translations in this chapter are by the author unless otherwise indicated. 10 ‘C’est par [l’exercice] de la Danse … que nous nous comportons dans le monde avec cette bonne grace & cet air qui fait briller notre Nation.’ Rameau, Le maître à danser,  1–​2. 11 About those 67 steps, see Kiss, Saisir le mouvement, 363–​5. 12 For the Italian origin of the fleuret, see Roucher-​Kougioumtzoglou, ‘La belle danse’. 13 The best-​known definition for ‘body techniques’ is to be found in Mauss, ‘Les techniques du corps’.

Canonisation of the danced minuet  61 14 Feuillet, Chorégraphie. 15 Roucher-​Kougioumtzoglou, ‘La belle danse’, 4. 16 ‘Danser en cadence, c’est proportionner la durée des pas à la valeur des notes de la mesure, de manière que le premier instant de chaque temps d’une mesure soit marqué ou frappé par quelque partie, ou quelque action des pas de la mesure, ou par un silence équivalent.’ (‘Dance and observe the cadence means adjust or proportion the length of the steps to the duration of the note of a measure, so that the first moment of every beat of a measure would be marked or hit by any part [of the body] or any action of the steps from the [choreographic] measure or by an equivalent silence [immobility].’) Borin, L’art de la danse, 15. For a description of dance to music relationship, see also Bacquoy-​Guédon, Méthode pour exercer l’oreille à la mesure. 17 Russell, ‘The Minuet According to Taubert’, 152–​3. 18 McKee, Decorum of the Minuet, 17. 19 Russell, ‘The Unconventional Dance Minuet’. 20 See, for example, minuet descriptions in Rameau, Le Maître à danser, or in Taubert, Der Rechtschaffener Tantzmeister. 21 For example, if we take into consideration all the danced minuets inserted in operas that have not been written in Feuillet notation, we have to admit that the available sources are not exhaustive, and thus part of the tradition was transmitted from dancer to dancer and not fixed, neither described, nor written in the form of ‘notated dances’. 22 Russell, ‘Minuet Form and Phraseology’, 386. 23 Pécour, Recueil de dances,  1–​11. 24 This piece, for example, begins with steps that are common for the forlane: coupé croisé devant and tombés; then we can observe frequent balancés and contretemps de menuet (the latter are usually current in passepied, not in minuet). It also contains ornamented steps that are usual for the minuet, such as pas de menuet croisé derrière avec jeté, contretemps de menuet en arrière, or even pas de menuet en tournant, which are very exceptional in the repertory  –​they are not described in common French treatises of the belle danse. Pécour, Recueil de dances,  48–​56. 25 See the quoted theoretical sources: Magny, Principes de chorégraphie; Martinet, Essai ou principes élémentaires; Rameau, Le maître à danser; Taubert, Der Rechtschaffener Tantzmeister; Tomlinson, The Art of Dancing. 26 See collections of notated dances such as L’Abbé, A New Collection (ca. 1725) –​with untypical minuet steps starting from the left foot –​or Pécour, Nouveau recueil. See also Descan, ‘Choréographie, par Descan’, with unorthodox menuets à quatre. 27 Pécour, Recueil de dances,  22–​31. 28 Ibid., 64, bars 1 and 14. 29 ‘Le pas de menuet est composé de quatre pas simples; maintenant on nomme le premier, un demi-​coupé; et les trois autres ensemble, un fleuret.’ Magny, Principes de Chorégraphie, 240. This definition comprises six actions: (1) stepping on the right foot, (2) bending of the knees, (3) rising and stepping on the left foot, (4) stepping on the right foot, (5) stepping on the left foot, and (6) bending of the knees. 30 McKee, Decorum of the Minuet, 17. 31 For the ‘Menuet performd’ by Mrs Santlow’, see L’Abbé, A Collection of New Dances,  17–​21. 32 In the article ‘Menuet’ in the Dictionnaire de la musique, Jean-​Jacques Rousseau proposed a distinction between the social and the theatrical minuet based on the tempi. The latter, he said, was much quicker than the former.

62  Dóra Kiss 33 About the variety of minuet metres, for example, see Schneider, ‘Structures métriques du menuet’. About the variety of minuet steps, see Sutton, ‘The Minuet’. 34 Kiss, ‘Interpréter le “Minuet of Mrs. Santlow” ’. 35 See, for example, the minuet in the Bourrée d’Achille in Pécour, Recueil de danses, 1–​10, or ‘Le menuet figuré de Didon’ in Descan, ‘Choréographie, par Descan’, BnF, 243–9. 36 ‘Il faut d’abord savoir que le vrai pas de menuet est compose de quatre pas, (qui cependant par leurs liaisons, suivant le terme de l’art ne font qu’un seul pas …).’ Rameau, Le Maître à danser, 76. 37 For this notion of usurper teachers, see also Hänsel’s title of 1755:  Allerneuste Anweisung zur Heusserlischen Moral (A Very Recent Method to Elevate Morality). 38 Magny still proposed versions of notated dances in in his book Principes de chorégraphie which was first published in 1710 and reprinted in 1765. And if Malpied still notated dances in 1781, the repertory he transmitted was previously invented by Pécour. 39 For example, Noverre, Lettres sur la danse, ‘Lettre VII’. 40 For example, Bertin, Le menuet d’Achille. 41 For a critique of the minuet at the end of the eighteenth century, see ‘A New Treatise on the Art of Dancing’. 42 ‘On a abandonné depuis longtems le Menuet, & il n’est plus d’usage dans les danses de société, cependant il renferme tous les principes de l’art; & il est facile de démontrer qu’on ne peut parvenir à danser, je ne dis pas bien, mais même médiocrement sans s’y être appliqué:  cette danse développe les membres, leur donne des contours gracieux, du moëlleux & de la justesse dans les mouvemens, de l’aplomb & du soutien dans l’équilibre du corps; & si la plupart des danseurs ont des attitudes forcées, des mouvemens durs, & un équilibre mal assuré, c’est qu’ils ignorent, ou qu’ils n’ont pas assez pratiqué ces premiers principes; aussi voit-​on la plupart des danseurs modernes se placer comme des manequins & se mouvoir comme des automates; j’invite donc les amateurs à ne point le négliger; il est très-​ important de s’appliquer à le bien apprendre, d’autant plus qu’il est à l’art de la danse ce qu’est l’a, b, c, à l’égard des mots & des discours.’ Martinet, Essais,  41–​43. 43 ‘Nogent, fête bretonne, danse du menuet’ is a document held by the Bibliothèque nationale de France. It is said to be a press picture (photographie de presse). We do not know if it had been published in a newspaper or not. Photographie de presse, BnF.

Bibliography Arbeau, Thoinot. Orchesographie, métode, et téorie en forme de discours et tablature pour apprendre à danser, battre le Tambour en toute sorte & diversité de batteries, louër du fifre & arigot, tirer des armes & escrimer, avec autres honnestes exercices fort convenables à la leunesse. Langres:  s.n., 1596. Facsimile reprint edited by François Lesure. Geneva (Genève): Éditions Minkoff, 1972. Bacquoy-​Guédon, Alexis. Méthode pour exercer l’oreille à la mesure dans l’art de la danse. Paris: Valade, 1777. Facsimile reprint. Geneva (Genève): Éditions Minkoff, 1995. Bertin, Henry. Le menuet d’Achille:  comédien enfantine en un acte. Paris:  Bibliothèque théâtrale, 1896. Borin. L’Art de la danse, par Mr *****. Paris:  De l’imprimerie de Jean-​ Baptiste-​ Christophe Ballard, 1746.

Canonisation of the danced minuet  63 Castiglione, Baldassare. Il libro del cortegiano. Florence (Firenze): Li heredi di Philippo di Giunta, 1528. Compan, Charles. Dictionnaire de la danse, contenant l’histoire, les règles & les principes de cet art, avec des réflexions critiques, et des anecdotes curieuses concernant la danse ancienne et moderne, le tout tiré des meilleurs auteurs qui ont écrit sur cet art. Paris: Cailleau, 1787. Facsimile reprint. Geneva (Genève): Éditions Minkoff, 1980. Dufort, Giambatista. Trattato del ballo nobile. Napoli:  Nella Stamperia di Felice Mosca, 1728. Faret, Nicolas. L’Honnête homme ou l’art de plaire la cour. Paris: Toussainct du Bray, 1630. Feuillet, Raoul Auger. Chorégraphie, ou L’art de décrire la danse, par caractères, figures et signes démonstratifs, Avec lesquels on apprend facilement de soy –​même toutes sortes de Danses, 2nd revised edition. Paris: printed by the author, 1701. Gallini, Giovanni-​Andrea. A Treatise on the Art of Dancing. London: printed by the author, 1762. Giles, Jeffrey. ‘Dance and the French Enlightenment’. Dance Chronicle 4, no. 3 (1980): 245–​63. Goff, Moira, and Jennifer Thorp. ‘Dance Notations Published in England c. 1700–​1740 and Related Manuscript Material’. Dance Research: The Journal of the Society for Dance 9, no. 2 (Autumn 1991): 32–​50. Hänsel, Christoph Gottlieb. Allerneueste Anweisung zur äusserlichen Moral, worinnen im Anhange die sogenannten Pfuscher entdecket, und überhaupt der Misbrauch der edlen Tanzkunst einem ieden vor Augen gelegt wird. Leipzig: Printed by the author, 1755. Hilton, Wendy. Dance of Court & Theater:  The French Noble Style 1690–​ 1725. London: Dance Books, 1981. Kiss, Dóra. ‘Interpréter le “Menuet performd’ by Mrs. Santlow”:  Une danse du répertoire de la belle danse’. Recherche en danse 2 ‘Savoirs et métier: l’interprète en danse’ (2014). https://​doi.org/​10.4000/​danse.343 –––. Saisir le mouvement, lire et écrire les sources de la belle danse (1700–​1797). Paris: Classiques Garnier, 2016. Lancelot, Francine. La belle dance:  Catalogue raisonné fait en l’an 1995. Paris:  Van Dieren, 1996. L’Abbé, Anthony. A New Collection of Dances. London: F. le Rousseau, 1725. Lecompte, Nathalie. Entre course et jardins d’illusion:  Le ballet en Europe (1515–​1715). Paris: Centre National de la Danse, 2014. Little, Meredith Ellis. ‘Dance under Louis XIV and XV:  Some Implications for the Musician’. Early Music 3, no. 4 (Oct. 1975): 331–​40. Little, Meredith Ellis, and Carol G. Marsh. La danse noble:  An inventory of dances and sources. Williamstown: Broude Brothers, 1992. Lowe, Melanie. ‘Falling from Grace:  Irony and Expressive Enrichment in Haydn’s Symphonic Minuets’. The Journal of Musicology 19, no. 1 (January 2002): 171–​221. Magny, Claude-​Marc. Principes de chorégraphie suivis d’un traité de la cadence, qui apprendra les tems et les valeures de chaque pas de la danse, détaillés par caractères et signes démonstratifs. Paris: Duchesne et de la Chevardière, 1765. Facsimile reprint. Geneva (Genève): Éditions Minkoff, 1980. Malpied, François. Traité sur l’art de la danse: Dédié à Monsieur Gardel, l’aîné. Paris: Boüin, [1770?]. Martinet, J. J. Essai ou principe élémentaires de l’art de la danse, utiles aux personnes destinées à l’éducation de la jeunesse. Lausanne: Monnier and Jaquerod, 1797.

64  Dóra Kiss Mauss, Marcel. ‘Les techniques du corps’. In Sociologie et anthropologie, 364–​386. Paris: Presses Universitaire de France, 2006. McKee, Eric. Decorum of the Minuet, Delirium of the Waltz:  A Study of Dance-​Music Relations in 3/​4 Time. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2012. Montaigne, Michel de. Essais de Michel Seigneur de Montaigne. Paris: Abel L’Angelier,  1588. ‘ “A New Treatise on the Art of Dancing” First Published in The Lady’s Magazine (I: Volume XVI) in Six Instalments (February, March, April, May, June, July 1785)’. Dance Research:  The Journal of the Society for Dance Research 11, no. 2 (Autumn 1993): 43–​59. Noverre, Jean Georges. Lettres sur la danse et sur les ballets. Lyon: Aimé Delaroche, 1760. Pauli, Charles. Élémens de la danse par Charles Pauli. Leipzig: Saalbach, 1756. Pécour, Guillaume Louis. Novueau recueil de dance de bal et celle de ballet: Contenant un très grand nombres des meillieures entrées de ballet. Paris: Gaudrau, 1712. Pécour, Guillaume Louis. Recueil de danses contenant un très grand nombres des meilleures entrées de ballet de M. Pécour tant pour homme que pour femmes dont la plus grande partie ont été dansées à l’Opéra recueillies et mises au jour par M. Feuillet. Paris: Feuillet, 1704. Pécour, Guillaume Louis. Recueil de dances, composées par M. Pécour, Pensionnaire des menus Plaisirs du Roy, & Compositeur des Ballets de l’Academie Royale de Musique de Paris. Et mises sur le Papier par M. Feuillet, Maître de Dance. Paris: Printed by the author, 1700. Pure, Michel de. Idée des spectacles anciens et nouveaux. Des anciens: Cirques, amphithéâtres, théâtres, naumachies, triomphes. Nouveaux:  Comédies, masquarades, exercises et revües militaires, feux d’artifices, entrées des Rois et de Reynes. Paris: Michel Brunet, 1668. Rameau, Pierre. Le maître à danser. Qui enseigne la manière de faire tous les differens pas de danse dans toute la régularité de l’art, & de conduire les bras à chaque pas. Paris: Jean Villette, 1725. Reprint titled Le maître à danser. New York: Broude Brothers, 1967. Roucher-​Kougioumtzoglou, Eugénia. ‘La belle danse ou le classicisme français au sein de l’univers baroque’ (conference paper). Centre National de la Danse. Médiathèque. Accessed 27 September 2020. http://​mediatheque.cnd.fr/​IMG/​pdf/​ belleDanse-​2.pdf. Rousseau, Jean-​Jacques. Dictionnaire de musique. Paris: Duchesne, 1768. Facsimile reprint with introduction by François Lesure. Geneva (Genève): Éditions Minkoff, 1998. Russell, Tilden A. ‘The Minuet According to Taubert’. Dance Chronicle 24, no. 2 (Winter 2006): 138–​62. Russell, Tilden A. ‘Minuet Form and Phraseology in Recueils and Manuscript Tunebooks’. The Journal of Musicology 17, no. 3 (Summer 1999): 386–​419. Russell, Tilden A. ‘The Unconventional Dance Minuet: Choreographies of the Menuet d’Exaudet’. Acta Musicologica 64, no. 2 (July–​December 1992): 118–​38. Schneider, Herbert. ‘Structures métriques du menuet au XVIIe et au début du XVIIIe siècle: Réflexions sur l’analyse et l’exécution du menuet’. Revue de Musicologie 78, no. 1 (1992): 27–​65. Sutton, Julia. ‘An Elegant Phoenix’. Dance Chronicle 8, no. 3/​4 (1985): 119–​52. Taubert, Gottfried. Rechtschaffener Tantzmeister, oder gründliche Erklärung der Frantzösischen Tantz-​Kunst …, 3 vols. Leipzig:  Friedrich Lanckischens Erben, 1717. Facsimile reprint, 2 vols. Münich (München): Heimeran Verlag,  1976. Tomlinson, Kellom. The Art of Dancing Explained by Reading and Figures:  Whereby the Manner of Performing the Steps Is Made Easy by a New and Familiar Method …, 2 vols. London: Published by the author, 1735.

Canonisation of the danced minuet  65

Archival sources Bibliothèque nationale de France Descan. ‘Chorégraphie, par Descan’. BnF. Département des manuscrits. Français 14884. Catalogue signature: ark:/​12148/​btv1b9057458f. Photographie de presse. BnF, Est. MFILM K147886 –​Rol, 29587. BnF, Est. EI-​13 (265).

4  On the other side of the canon August von Kotzebue as a popular playwright and controversial public persona Meike Wagner

Introduction Around 1800 August von Kotzebue was the most popular playwright in European theatre. A total of 227 theatre pieces were published under his name during his lifetime and after. Even though he always met severe critique from literates, all German stages (including Goethe’s) happily welcomed his plays, which promised full houses and a substantial income. For example, between 1779 and 1870, the National and Court Theatre in Mannheim, one of the most prestigious German stages of the time, had 1,870 Kotzebue performances in the programme. Second ranked was Schiller, with 486 performances, and Iffland was on third with 463 performances.1 Kotzebue’s plays dominated the German theatre in such a way that August Wilhelm Schlegel rightly stated that ‘the German theatre and Kotzebue are one and the same’.2 He was supposedly responsible for a widespread interest in German literature. Due to the many translations of his works (into English, French, Italian, Swedish, Danish, Russian, and others), he became famous in Scandinavia, Western and Eastern Europe as well as in America. In his last years –​while still omnipresent on German stages –​he became involved in a public controversy over the German nationalist and student movement. In 1819, the radical nationalist student Karl Ludwig Sand assassinated August von Kotzebue in Mannheim. Sand justified this murder with a semi-​ religious mission: he considered himself the saviour of the German nation by stabbing its ‘archenemy’ Kotzebue. State authorities of the German Federation (Deutscher Bund) reacted to this political murder with repressive legislation concerning censorship of political activities and student movements in order to prevent political upheaval (Karlsbader Beschlüsse). Today August von Kotzebue’s pieces have disappeared from theatre repertories. If ever remembered, his name is only mentioned in the context of the political repression after 1819. Why did Kotzebue’s humongous popularity that lasted until the second half of the nineteenth century not prevent him from falling into oblivion today? He never entered the canon of German literature that was largely shaped during and shortly after his lifetime. One obvious

On the other side of the canon  67 reason for this was that the newly established academic discipline of the time, Literaturgeschichte (literary history), applied categories and criteria that did not allow his works to be counted as valuable literature. Another reason was his controversial position in the public discourse on German nationalism and also his reluctance to embrace the idealist idea of a national theatre to support the building of a German nation. Instead, his plays and theatre were in line with late Enlightenment discourses on education and the emergence of bourgeois morals and values as fundamental to a new society, regardless of national interest. He was neither a classicist nor an idealist and clearly crossed the clear-​ cut distinctions between high and low art, and professional and amateur theatre. I will further investigate Kotzebue’s position in the aesthetic and literary field in relation to the discursive emergence of a ‘negative canonisation’ of his works.3 The establishment of a German national literary canon around 1800 required a negative model to sharpen a profile for criteria of ‘valued literature’. Consequently, any works  –​including those by August von Kotzebue  –​that did not fit into the ‘aesthetic programme’ of German idealism that increasingly dominated the literary discourse were degraded as cheap entertainment countering the ideals of the literary canon.

Negative canonisation At the end of the eighteenth century, literary production increased and a commercial book market emerged. Critics of the time used terms like ‘flood of books’ (Bücherfluth) or ‘reading mania’ (Lesewuth)4 to describe the feeling of uneasiness concerning the growing commercialisation of literature. At the same time, the discipline of modern literary history in Germany developed and had to face the challenges developing qualitative criteria and categories to establish a literary canon. A national literary history could no longer collect all the literature published in the language. The mass of publications required the establishment of criteria to define a canon consisting of a stable body of valued works: Pure information about and transmission of literature was not in the centre anymore, like it used to be in the old literary history (‘Litterärgeschichte’, before 1800). Rather two new functions became important: that of building a national identity and that of arguing for a qualitative selection –​good literature must be differentiated from bad literature.5 August von Kotzebue became a victim of this development. Not only was he denied access to the literary canon, but also was turned into a negative example: one of bad taste that needs to be excluded in order to establish and secure the boundaries of the valued national canon. The German scholar Simone Winko uses the term ‘negative canonization’ to describe Kotzebue’s case. His literary devaluation by the nineteenth-​century literary scholars had a long-​lasting impact on the reception of his works. The tradition to denounce his drama and prose reaches well into the twentieth century. The arguments of

68  Meike Wagner this defamatory discourse were recycled again and again to put him into opposition with ‘good’ and canonical works.6 It was only in 1971 that Frithjof Stock published the first comprehensive study on Kotzebue (Kotzebue im literarischen Leben der Goethezeit) that distanced itself from earlier judgements and thoroughly investigated Kotzebue’s works in the context of his time.7 However, there are still some traces of aesthetic devaluation in Stock’s language. In his conclusion, for example, Stock as a way to explain Kotzebue’s enormous theatre success argues that there was an ‘incertitude of taste’ concerning the audience. Simone Winko’s article ‘Negativkanonisierung’ (‘Negative Canonization’), published in 1998, was a turning point in the Kotzebue reception. She does not repeat the arguments of a defamatory literary discourse but diligently lays open and critically analyses the strategies and objectives of Kotzebue’s negative canonisation in the nineteenth century.8 In the following, two major studies take up this new perspective on Kotzebue and provide an unbiased view on his life and works: Jörg F. Meyer, Vereehrt, verdammt, vergessen. August von Kotzebue.Werk und Wirkung, 2005 and Pierre Mattern, ‘Kotzebue’s Allgewalt’. Literarische Fehde und politisches Attentat, 2011. The literary histories and anthologies, analysed by Winko, evaluate Kotzebue’s life, works, and impression according to the criteria of ‘morals’ (Sittlichkeit), ‘aesthetic education’ (ästhetische Bildung) and ‘nation’. Regarding the latter criteria, it can be observed that many of the literary scholars of the nineteenth century openly sympathised with the nationalist ideology of the student fraternities (Burschenschaften).9 In 1860, Rudolf von Gottschall, one of the rare literary historians expressing a positive opinion of Kotzebue, states that Kotzebue as the ‘German Molière’ would only achieve a full and just recognition ‘when our literary historians fraternizing with the students will have died out’.10 Kotzebue’s works, and also himself as a person, were denounced as completely lacking political attitude and character from these scholars and students alike. His cosmopolitan way of life across several countries, his international literary and theatre success and his general humanist thinking related to Enlightenment ideas made him the target of nationalist disparagement after 1815. In the eyes of literary critics and scholars of his time, Kotzebue’s life and works fused into one. Accordingly, moral and aesthetic judgements were not distinguished and greatly influenced ideas about both his person and his writings: Kotzebue’s assumed weak character led to immoral theatre plays and hence aesthetically poor works. From there it is only a small step to personal attack and social and political contempt –​a perfect condition for Karl Ludwig Sand to justify his assassination. In the following, I will further discuss the motives and reasons for Kotzebue’s moral, aesthetics, and political criticism in the nineteenth century against the backdrop of the idealist literary discourse.

Moral criticism In 1793, August von Kotzebue published a brochure (An das Publicum) to defend himself from incessant criticism of his works and personality: ‘People

On the other side of the canon  69 have taken revenge on me through ridiculous reviews of my work. Others have falsely decried my moral character’.11 From the very beginning of his theatre career he was constantly under attack from journalists and literary critics alike.12 Right from the start this criticism was directed at him personally; he was accused of weak moral character and greedy commercial interest. His enormous success on the stage was also connected to the moral weakness of Kotzebue and that of his audience.13 On one hand, Kotzebue’s weak character enabled him to manipulate his audiences. As Joseph von Eichendorff, a German novelist and poet of the time, stated, he possessed an ‘evil instinct’ that enabled him ‘to make the dormant sins and weaknesses of the nation rise up against its virtues, only by the means of his perfidious trickery’.14 On the other hand, despite the fact that Kotzebue’s audiences came from all strata of society, his audiences and supporters were condemned as an uneducated mob (Pöbel, großer Haufe) requiring a quick and easy satisfaction of their desire to be entertained.15 Kotzebue countered this widespread opinion in his own ironic way: All the people, e.g., that fill the ground floor and boxes at performances of my pieces in the most distinguished cities of Germany, that laugh and cry, praise and applaud; they are not an audience, but a mob [‘der große Haufe’]. However, in the corner in the back there is one person grinning and chewing his fingernails –​oh yes! this is the audience! He is keeping the pure spirit of genuine taste in his bosom. Indeed he is loudly overruled by the mob [‘der große Haufe’] and purses in vain his mouth to whistle; but wait, tomorrow he is going to sit down and write a review for the Literatur-​Zeitung, and he will demonstrate with an elegant smile that you all were idiots.16 Of course, Kotzebue conspires with his readers and audience and pulls them to his side –​no one wishes to be counted among idiots by a minority opinion. The moral criticism normally operated on a very general level. A detailed analysis of his plays was rare; indeed, it would have been rather difficult to prove Kotzebue wrong. He always operated on the level of a common moral sense. His dramatic protagonists very often trespassed the boundaries of bourgeois values and rules only to follow their heart and a feeling of what was right or wrong in a humanist sense. This way Kotzebue very often questioned moral values and their validity in all aspects of life, but in the end his protagonists returned to order; the dramatic happy ending was always a happy ending for the social order of bourgeois society. Bourgeois convention versus common moral sense Kotzebue always favoured a common moral sense over shallow convention and norm. This can be demonstrated with his early success play Menschenhaß und Reue (Misanthropy and Remorse) that was staged for the first time in 1788 in Kotzebue’s amateur theatre in Reval (Tallin) (Figure 4.1).

70  Meike Wagner

Figure 4.1 Menschenhaß und Reue, copperplate print from August von Kotzebue’s sämmtliche dramatische Werke, Leipzig 1827, vol. 2. © Meike Wagner.

Shortly after, the play became a big success on the leading theatre stages all over Germany (Berlin 1789, Mannhein 1789).The main character of the play, Eulalia, has betrayed her husband with another man. Deeply regretting her transgression she ever after leads a modest and mournful life away from her children and family. The play ends with a reunification of the couple; love and caring rule over norms and conventions. The family returns to happiness. However,

On the other side of the canon  71 Kotzebue’s suggestion that the wife’s betrayal should be forgiven set him in opposition to bourgeois family values.17 With Eulalia, Kotzebue had created the prototype of the ‘fallen angel’ and the play was so popular that it initiated the fashion of wearing ‘Eulalia bonnets’ (Eulalia-​Hauben) among women to sympathise with her fate. His audience supported Kotzebue’s normative challenge to the bourgeois family –​though critics condemned his ‘immorality’ (Figure 4.1). This play is one of Kotzebue’s most important works.18 Due to its detailed stage directions, perfectly constructed characters, dialogue, and plot, it had an extraordinary stage quality that was immediately sensed by theatre directors. The topic had a social relevance and was morally provocative; it was therefore enormously attractive for audiences. Nevertheless, Kotzebue’s critics again pointed at his presumably weak moral character in promoting adultery on stage; in their eyes his play was unacceptable to conservative bourgeois morals. Kotzebue obviously followed a humanist moral agenda that linked in with Enlightenment thinking about the sentimental education of the individual rather than with a strict idea of bourgeois conventions. At the same time, his suggested ending based on forgiveness and love was clearly connected to Christian values. In another successful play, Die deutschen Kleinstädter (The German Small-​ Towner, premiered 1802 in Vienna), Kotzebue criticises bourgeois morals that have turned into shallow rules and regulations limiting the lives of the protagonists to commercial interests and the absolute belief in rank and title. The targets of his sharp-​tongued satire were the inhabitants of a little town named ‘Krähwinkel’ that highly identified with the strict rules of bourgeois lives. They constantly refer to each other by absurd titles instead of names, for example, grandmother Spaar invites her friends over to tea by calling them ‘Mrs. Upper Master of Raft and Fishery’, ‘Mrs. Municipal Financial Acquisition Accountant’, and ‘Mrs. Lower Tax Collector’.19 In the play, the title gives a person an unquestioned authority regardless of individual deeds or achievements. Mayor Staar wants to give his daughter Sabine to the most respectable ‘Building, Mining and Road Building Substitute Inspector’, Mr. Sperling, who aspires to climb up the career ladder to become ‘Field Mangel Commission Assessor’.20 Sabine, of course, a smart young lady with a critical view on Krähwinklian bourgeois conventions, finds a way to avoid the marriage and to be united with her true love –​the well-​educated and intelligent city-​dweller Olmers. Kotzebue reveals how the bourgeois morals that had been established as a counter-​model to the degenerated habits of nobility in Enlightenment times had now turned into ridiculous criteria to distinguish good bourgeois citizens from ‘abnormal individuals’. In this sense Kotzebue indeed questioned morals when he rejected absolute obedience to rules of distinction. In his plays we find again and again protagonists failing to obey or consciously trespassing bourgeois norms to follow a higher command of pure rationality and/​or authentic emotion. Kotzebue thus staged conflicts between classes and people that did not support traditional and hierarchising prejudices. Rather,

72  Meike Wagner he showed and discussed the conflict between the individual and society, the tension between societal duties and personal emotions and desires.21 Kotzebue’s idea of the enlightened bourgeois as an educated and rational citizen fed his criticism of the bourgeois rule of his time. His audience was moved by the affective issues at stake and sympathised with his controversial protagonists. His critics took this as an example of how profoundly Kotzebue was able to morally undermine and damage bourgeois society with his cheap theatricals and ‘coup de théâtre’. As Friedrich Schleiermacher, a German philosopher of the time, put it in a letter to his fiancée: [Kotzebue] indeed is a malicious guy. He does not have the least idea of true morality … and one is truly embarrassed and angry when one is moved at singular moments. This happens even to me from time to time since I am such an honest and simple man.22 Immoral satire The year 1790 was not only a turning point in Kotzebue’s dramatic career due to the overwhelming success of Menschenhaß und Reue, it was also the year he was unfortunately involved in a public controversy between the well-​ known Enlightenment thinker and illuminatus Carl Friedrich Bahrdt, who was imprisoned due to his political activities, and Johann Georg Zimmermann, a medical doctor and conservative writer. The Bahrdt affair left a mark on his reputation until his very end. Kotzebue, living in Reval since 1783, misjudged the actual situation in Germany and took sides with Zimmermann, whose writings had been estimated highly before the French revolution. The wind had changed, however, and Zimmermann was not as appreciated as before. Nevertheless, Kotzebue published a sharp-​tongued and even partly pornographic satire23 on Bahrdt under the name of Adolph Knigge, another German Enlightenment thinker, who had attacked Zimmermann before.24 In 1792, when his adversaries had collected evidence of his authorship, he had to admit that he had written the satire. Kotzebue judged his publication as a ‘well-​meant, naïve rashness’,25 but it turned out to be a fatal error. From that time on his adversaries had a strong alibi to attack him personally whenever they wanted to criticise his works or thinking. Kotzebue knew that the Bahrdt affair never left him and complained that even more than 20 years later his critics would always come back to this incident.26 However, he was not aware that his moral condemnation would ever have the power to become part of an alibi for his murder. Kotzebue countered ruling bourgeois morals with his plays, and at the same time he also positioned his theatre across the boundaries and aesthetic norms of German idealism. This added to his reputation as a nonconforming individual, and it supported critics who mainly followed the idealist and romantic elitism in their opinion of his works as having entertainment –​but no aesthetic –​ value.

On the other side of the canon  73

Aesthetic normalisation Wilhelm von Humboldt’s ambiguous judgement regarding Kotzebue’s impact on theatre audiences gives evidence of his clear deviation from idealist aesthetics. In a letter to Friedrich von Schiller, he wrote: Again, the piece was very irritating. Actually, a quite unaesthetic emotional movement [unästhetische Rührung] becomes evident, when one’s own tears are annoying, and a writer is applying violence on me to force these tears to fall. This is what happened again in this performance. There are moments, when one is emotionally moved against one’s own will, and when one becomes aware that this is no other emotion than a feeling aroused by wounds and rags of a beggar.27 Humboldt distinguishes here between a true ‘aesthetic emotional movement’ and a shallow ‘unaesthetic emotional movement’. This difference is linked to the aesthetic value of true art or high art in accordance with the rules and norms of idealist aesthetics. One aspect of this idea of art is that the work of art should have an aesthetic quality that provides a holistic, aesthetic experience. In the case of Kotzebue, there is always talk of certain moments, singular affects and effects creating an aesthetic experience (or even ‘unaesthetic experience’ as Humboldt put it), but his pieces as a whole can never meet the standards of idealist critics. Following the idealist aesthetics and the concept of art autonomy (Kunstautonomie) after Friedrich von Schiller, the impact of the ‘beautiful’ and art is to create a free interplay of all psychic drives. Sensual and intellectual perceptions, normally in opposition to each other, are harmonised through a true and unique artwork. Art should neither solely affect passions nor one-​ sidedly arouse intellectual reflection. At the same time, the aesthetic experience does not prescribe any programme or follow an aim; art is autonomous and frees from any specific tendency or directed action. If an aesthetic experience leads to a feeling of being ready and open for a specific emotional state or specific action, and being inapt and annoyed towards another, so this unerringly is an evidence that we have not gone through a pure aesthetic experience.28 It becomes clear now that Humboldt argues in the vein of Schiller when condemning Kotzebue’s one-​sided emotional dramatic charging as an ‘unaesthetic experience’ that does not bring his feeling and thinking into harmony but rather enforces the division and a feeling of uneasiness, even anger. The ‘unaesthetic experience’ is in opposition to the ‘pure aesthetic experience’ provided by a true work of art; it is impure, contaminated by other experiences and drives, and therefore is highly despicable. By applying his dramaturgy of effects and emotional movements pointing at an immediate and momentary

74  Meike Wagner sensual experience, Kotzebue clearly does not invest in the project of idealist aesthetic education towards a ‘beautiful’ and free future for humankind beyond personal interest and individual feelings. Theatrical professionalism versus aesthetic innovation Before 1800, idealist aesthetics were still challenged by other theatre concepts based on ‘aesthetics of professionalism’ with a pragmatic approach towards theatre practice rather than ‘aesthetics of innovation and autonomy’29 –​which was in line with idealist aesthetics and always related theatre and drama with a possible future and progression.30 After 1810, however, the canonising processes were dominated by idealist concepts that created a strict divide between ‘progressive’ and ‘conservative’, ‘advanced’ and ‘traditional’, ‘ambitious’ and ‘inferior’, and it accordingly labelled theatre and literature as ‘serious’ or ‘light’ art, respectively.31 Kotzebue was clearly on the side of an ‘aesthetics of professionalism’ since he was a dramatist who made excellent use of well-​known and accessible topoi, plots, characters, and comic elements to create new and indeed innovative variations that appealed to yet a larger educated audience of the time.32 He was a man of the theatre who had an extraordinary expertise on and knowledge of the stage and theatrical production. Moreover, he measured the quality of his pieces by its public success. In his Fragmente über Recensenten-​Unfug (Fragments on Reviewers’ Nonsense, 1794)  Kotzebue states that a pleasurable aesthetic experience should not be questioned based on whether or not it was ‘according to the rules’, and therefore judged as a quite ‘unaesthetic experience’. He quotes Molière to support his case: We should cede ourselves without any resistance to the feelings capturing us, and not let reasoning steal this pleasure away from us. When a play has entertained me, I do not ask whether I was right or wrong to enjoy, and whether any Aristotelian rule stands against my laughter (or tears). This would appear as if a man would highly appreciate a sauce he has just tasted, and then enquired whether it could also be graded ‘excellent’ according to the rules of French cooking.33 Obviously this position is in total opposition to Humboldt’s stance and his complaint to have shed tears against his will and against the idealist concepts of aesthetic experience. The idealist educational claim towards ‘absolute progression’34 and innovation divided the audience into the ‘good audience’, which appreciated this claim, and the ‘bad audience’, who only strove for good entertainment in the theatre.35 Kotzebue appeared controversial in relation to this claim, which was first and foremost uttered by romantic thinkers and especially by Friedrich and August Wilhelm Schlegel. Accordingly, the Schlegel brothers became Kotzebue’s strongest adversaries in the years before and after 1800.36 Pierre

On the other side of the canon  75 Mattern describes the struggle between the Schlegels and Kotzebue as an opposition of a ‘reflexive elite’ and a ‘performative elite’: I have called Kotzebue a representative of a ‘performative elite’ not because he enters the stage, but because he rejects in the name of performativity a second, at first sight ‘avant-​garde’, perspective on art, that is put into operation by a ‘reflexive elite’ of ‘transcendental revolutionaries’.37 Indeed, hardly any romantic drama was really successful on German stages. From Kotzebue’s performative perspective, any attempt to rehabilitate these works through a discussion of their conceptual and aesthetic quality was a complete failure and prone to his mockery. 38 On the other side, the performative success of Kotzebue was played down by his idealist and romantic critics through a permanent disparagement of his audience as ‘der große Haufe’. When we focus on the importance of stage quality, performative practice, and the pleasurable experience of Kotzebue’s works, his engagement for amateur theatre also comes into play. He clearly had an idea of educating through theatre experience and theatre practice that was closely linked to the Enlightenment idea of a ‘refinement of the senses’ and a sentimental education to help people become better bourgeois citizens. However, he did not inscribe to idealist concepts of a national education. In that sense Kotzebue’s amateur theatricals had another provocation for idealist aesthetics in store. Amateur theatre versus idealist aesthetics When Kotzebue moved to Reval (today:  Tallin) in 1783, he immediately started to engage in local cultural activities. He was one of the founders of the private theatre in Reval (since 1784) and became its principal leader and in-​house playwright. Most of his later success plays were premiered in Reval and staged for the first time by amateurs, e.g. Menschenhaß und Reue, Die Indianer in England. His idea of theatre was not based on a distinction between amateur and professional theatre practice, whereas idealist aesthetics drew a clear line between amateur culture and art. Around 1800 a strong public discourse rose against the amateurs. In 1801 a journalist even described the amateur theatre in Berlin as ‘an epidemic disease among the lower classes in the city’ and strongly recommended a strict cure against it.39 Only two years before, in 1799, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Friedrich von Schiller had agreed on the necessity of ‘aesthetic rules’ for theatre and art and on the ‘threat of dilettantism’. In this year they developed together a ‘Dilettantism-​Scheme’ (Dilettantismus-​Schema) in tabular form as a draft of a planned publication.40 The text remains a fragment and was not published in their lifetimes. In this ‘Dilettantism-​Scheme’ they evaluate the uses and damages of different dilettant/​amateur art practices for an individual and also for society. They discuss dilettantism in ‘drawing’, ‘dance’, ‘music’, ‘architecture’,

76  Meike Wagner ‘gardening’, ‘poetry’, and also in ‘acting’ –​to them one of the worst forms of dilettantism. Around 1800 two different views on the figure of the ‘dilettant’ were predominant.41 On one hand, the dilettant was considered to be a ‘noble art lover’ and ‘connoisseur’ who gradually achieves expertise in his field through experience and study; on the other hand, the dilettant was perceived as a botcher and bungler who would never be able to create something of value.42 In 1799 Goethe took the latter stance when he wrote to Schiller in a letter: ‘The main feature of the botcher is his incorrigibility’.43 The botcher/​dilettant will never learn and will never be able to achieve any expertise whatsoever. August von Kotzebue countered this negative evaluation of the dilettant and ‘botcher’ when writing a little dramatic text for his private theatre in 1784 called The Amateur Theatre before the Parliament (Das Liebhabertheater vor dem Parlament).44 In his play Kotzebue took up the opposition of ‘regular art craft’ versus ‘non-​worthy bungling’ –​a formula that was often used to argue against dilettantism in the arts –​to justify the social function of the amateur theatre. In the tone of satire he does not present literati discussing the value of amateur theatre on stage but a policeman and a housekeeper –​both forces of order and security not only in the parliament but also in the theatre: Policeman: Housekeeper: Policeman: Housekeeper: Policeman:

Today, our strict lords must administer justice on the amateur theatre and common sense versus prejudice. The amateur theatre? What a strange thing is this? This is not a thing, Peter, these are people that keep botching up other people’s businesses and crafts. And what’s more: they want to get paid for it. Oh, when it comes to payment, I agree. Today a botching and bungling is more profitable than arts and crafts, as long as the botchers know how to do sweet talk. You are right, Peter. But these amateurs pretend that they will not keep the money but give it to the poor.45

The botch-​up of amateur theatre turns into an important contribution to society as ever so often practised in the times of Kotzebue, but this kind of ‘use’ to society is not noted down in Goethe’s and Schiller’s ‘Dilettanti-​Scheme’. They applied a different standard when judging the dilettantism in theatre. In their ‘Entwurf zu einer Abhandlung über den Dilettantismus (1799)’, accompanying the ‘Dilettanti-​Scheme’, they clearly argue why they strictly rejected any dilettantism in acting and theatre: In the fields where art has not yet established valid aesthetic rules, like in poetry, gardening, acting, the dilettantism is more damaging and impertinent. The worst case is found in the art of acting.46

On the other side of the canon  77 Around 1800, when Schiller and Goethe invested largely in the development of an idealistic concept of art, theatre remained an open question. They saw an urgent need to formulate firm aesthetic rules and norms. Theatre could only become a true art form when it strictly obeyed aesthetic laws and was directed and led by a true artist. Consequently, they demanded ‘Extreme rigorosity on the formal level’.47 Amateur theatre was a case that was hard to discipline according to this aesthetic regime. Free of economic restraints and societal norms, the amateur actors experimented with their acting potentials and allowed the entry of societal groups that up to that point had never had access to theatre –​neither as actors nor as spectators. The motives for participation in an amateur theatre were as follows: (1) the generally growing popularity of theatre as an art form and as entertainment, (2)  the desire to have a theatre in the town when no other form of theatre was available and, (3) a growing interest of the bourgeois and citizens to enter the public sphere through the theatre –​to have a public appearance on the stage, to be seen and to see other bourgeois actors on stage. Aesthetic laws were not relevant to them even when the better educated among them had an idea of what the conditions for a theatre were to gain aesthetic value as prescribed by Schiller and Goethe (1961). Kotzebue became a leading figure in the development of amateur theatres (Liebhabertheater). Not only was he the founder of the very successful amateur theatre in Reval (Tallin), he also provided easy play texts for German-​speaking amateurs when he started editing one-​act plays and short drama in his Almanach dramatischer Spiele zur geselligen Unterhaltung (Almanac of dramatic plays for the sociable entertainment) in 1802.48 He made theatre accessible and available. In the foreword of the first edition, he gives the basic concept of the Almanach. He states that for smaller families and social circles it was rather difficult to establish a proper private theatre, so he wanted to supply them with ‘easy-​to-​perform’ theatre texts that turned family culture into a ‘performance culture’: How about, I delivered the public little by little a number of smaller pieces or scenes? Some of them touching, some of them funny or farcical? Plays that require only four or five actors and some folding screens? Plays that one can distribute, learn by heart and perform within two days? Plays that partly could also be performed by children on their parents’ birthdays when a private tutor created a fitting prologue or epilogue relating the play to the celebrations?49 Kotzebue’s Almanach, published from 1802 to 1820,50 fuelled amateur activities and further added to his fame and popularity.51 He was omnipresent in the public and private spheres of bourgeois theatre culture. His Almanach was read and perceived by all classes and strata of society; the plays published there were performed in private circles, on amateur and professional stages alike.52 Therefore, Kotzebue again proved his versatility and objection to clear-​cut

78  Meike Wagner aesthetic rules and norms. Education through theatrical plays was a major goal for Kotzebue but not on the grounds of idealistic and classicist aesthetics. After 1810, August von Kotzebue became increasingly stigmatised as an immoral and lower dramatic author, and was positioned outside the canon by critics and literary historians alike; at the same time, his German and international popularity still kept growing and growing. After the Napoleonic wars, in times when the nationalist movement gained momentum, the arguments against Kotzebue turned into a political condemnation. His refusal to follow a nationalist agenda and to propagate a national education was turned against him. He was accused of lacking any political –​let alone patriotic –​conviction.

Political controversy As I have discussed above, idealist thinking and aesthetics implied an idea of a national education and the building of and progression to an ideal nation state. Earlier Enlightenment concepts of education rather aimed at the individual refinement of the character and the shaping of a valuable bourgeois citizen. In his Fragmente über Recensenten-​Unfug (Fragments on Reviewers’ Nonsense), Kotzebue clearly took the stance of the latter concept of education when discussing the relation of the theatre with an assumed ‘national character’.53 Kotzebue entitled the 16th fragment in the collection ‘On the Endlessly Repeated Complaint that the Germans do not and cannot have a National Theatre, a National Taste’ (‘Ueber die, bis zum Ekel wiedergekäute Klage: daß die Deutschen kein Nationaltheater, keinen Nationalgeschmack haben, und haben können’). In this chapter, Kotzebue responded critically to a positive book review on Untersuchung über den deutschen Nationalcharakter in Bezug auf die Frage: Warum giebt es kein deutsches Nationaltheater (A Study on the German National Character in Relation to the Question:  Why is there no German National Theatre, 1794, anonymously published by Wilhelm Friedrich August Mackensen) that appeared in the Allgemeine Literatur-​Zeitung on 7 December 1795. Kotzebue had not read the book but commented on the issues discussed in the review.54 The main argument in Mackensen’s book, as the review argues, was that each nation normally possessed a common culture of ‘relations’ and ‘opinions’ that formed a specific national character.55 Unfortunately, Germans had so far not built such a national character, and therefore the theatre necessarily was based on individual characterisation due to the taste and will of the dramatic author.56 The anonymous author of the review followed Mackensen in taking Kotzebue’s Menschenhaß und Reue as an example to illustrate the weakness in character due to a lack of national character.The current success of the theatre –​and of course especially the success of Kotzebue’s theatre –​came from the use of two main strategies: the abundant critique of bourgeois values and the prominent role of women in the plays.57 Between the lines the author is saying that Kotzebue heavily relied on provocation and erotic appeal. Kotzebue denied the existence of something like a ‘national character’ (Nationalcharakter) at all.58 Instead, he suggested discussing ‘national habits’

On the other side of the canon  79 (Nationalsitten) that were formed by the climate, by religion, by the form of government but not at all by such an ungraspable idea as a ‘national character’.59 To him the most relevant category for theatre was the recognition of the human factor. He stated that a spectator was first and foremost a human being, not a member of a nation, and that he as a dramatist must represent a true human being on stage that needs to be recognisable as a human character, not a ‘national character’.60 Therefore, the key to success in theatre was not the knowledge about this or that ‘national character’ or any national expertise but the knowledge of the human hearts (Kenntniß der menschlichen Herzen).61 Furthermore, Kotzebue even went so far as to negate the value and importance of a ‘national theatre’ or a ‘nation’ to a dramatist and his audience: I think that both a dramatist as well as the public remain indifferent to the question: the latter whether a theatre is called national or not as long as it is good, the first, whether his audience is a nation or not as long as it is enlightened, sensible and appreciative.62 Kotzebue neither related his success in theatre to any kind of national category –​indeed he was a true cosmopolitan dramatic author –​nor did he use his dramatic success as a power to support the concept of a national theatre or the building of a German nation. His position was of course a provocation to the devotees of the project of a national theatre that grounded their thinking in the ideas and concepts of idealist aesthetics. Moreover, his distance from national and nationalist positions and thinking motivated a political discourse that turned more and more aggressively against him. From ‘national character’ to nationalism In his last years, August von Kotzebue returned to Weimar and published a literary journal Das litterarische Wochenblatt. After Napoleon’s defeat and the congress in Vienna, the nationalist student movement became increasingly popular. Students united in student unions and associations and developed a political agenda based on national unity. Kotzebue  –​a cosmopolitan, enlightenment thinker and monarchist –​was in complete opposition to the aims of the student movement. When he came to Weimar in 1817, he involved himself in public debates on the revolutionary threat of the student movement and published several anti-​student articles in his journal. He was mandated and salaried by the Russian Tsar to report on the latest German developments in literature and culture. Due to these activities rumours started circulating among students that, in fact, Kotzebue was a Russian spy, and he became the target of severe public hate. On 18 October 1817 students from all over German countries met in Saxon on the Wartburg, the famous castle where Martin Luther had found shelter 300  years ago, to protest against reactionary politics and to demand national unification under constitutional rule. Around 500 students and some professors celebrated their political agenda. During the festivities they ritually burnt

80  Meike Wagner books considered to be reactionary and anti-​national. Among them was also Kotzebue’s Geschichte des deutschen Reiches (1814/​1815). That was the moment when his name came to the attention of the student Karl Ludwig Sand, as he later explained during the legal prosecution of Kotzebue’s murder.63 Kati Röttger states that the student Sand in fact targeted Kotzebue on three levels: as a media power, as a bourgeois citizen, and as a dramatist.64 I would add that he also killed an independent thinker who refused to adapt to bourgeois rules and conventions, who rejected a normalisation of theatre as an art form and political medium, and who remained in an enlightenment universe when the politics of the day moved elsewhere and preferred immediate political action over humanist educational concepts. Kotzebue could not obey the urging demand to ally himself with the nationalist ideology at a time when the question of ‘political conviction’ (Gesinnung) radically defined friend or foe. That made him prone to the discursive attacks of the student movement and their followers, and also the victim of a political murder.

After Kotzebue State authorities took Kotzebue’s assassination as a reason to action and Metternich led the German Union into a politics of repression of student activities and press publications. The resulting mutual distrust (the so-​called Demagogenverfolgung) had a great impact on journalism, academic education, and theatre culture until 1848. In the following, Kotzebue became more and more the icon of this repression and political persecution, whereas Sand was gradually made into a national(ist) martyr. A flood of publications commented on the murder case, legal prosecution, and execution of Sand. Most of them did not dare to hail the crime openly, but nationalist undertones dominated their texts: they hardly condemned the killing but harshly criticised Kotzebue’s morals  –​somehow he had earned it. The discourse on Kotzebue as a justified victim can be considered as a radicalised version of the negative canonisation providing the arguments of his moral disparagement. However, even after his death, his plays continued to dominate the repertories, but the interest in Kotzebue’s theatre gradually declined. By the turn of the century he had disappeared completely from repertories, even though he had been omnipresent on German stages throughout the first half of the nineteenth century. Kotzebue’s enormous and complete success in the theatre was a provocation to literary historians seeking to establish a ‘national canon’ after their moral categories and aesthetic criteria.They had to apply a strong ‘idealist cure’ to achieve his negative canonisation and finally his oblivion. August von Kotzebue himself had a quite realistic view on the transience of fame and the attraction of ‘the new’.When the Allgemeine Literatur-​Zeitung, Kotzebue’s best enemy, complained that even the greatest German dramatists were prone to forgetting due to a ‘lack of national taste’, he countered again any idea of ‘national taste’ and replied: No nation will ever keep even the most favourite pieces on stage and therefore none of them have a particular national taste. Do not try to argue

On the other side of the canon  81 that some plays by Shakespeare and some by Molière are still played in England and France from time to time; also in Germany a Lessing play is staged here and there and will always be; however, the solid, particular taste of the human being, and therefore of the nations, is the taste of the new.65 In this logic, the establishment of a canon is an idle task. Kotzebue –​in his performative and professional perspective –​would never count on being part of it.

Notes 1 Fühler, Das Schauspielrepertoire, 159, quoted in Meyer, Verehrt.Verdammt.Vergessen, 9. 2 Schlegel, Ehrenpforte, 26. The ironic phrase is uttered by the dramatic figure of the prompter in Schlegel’s satirical drama on Kotzebue. The romantic author A.  W. Schlegel was one of Kotzebue’s most severe adversaries. His polemic brochure Ehrenpforte was a direct response to Kotzebue’s drama Der hyperboreische Esel that ridiculed the elitism of idealist and romantic philosophy. 3 See Winko, ‘Negativkanonisierung’. 4 Koschorke, ‘Geschlechterpolitik’, 593; also Fohrmann, Das Projekt der deutschen Literaturgeschichte, 15ff. 5 ‘Im Mittelpunkt steht nicht mehr allein die Informations-​undVermittlungsleistung der Litterärgeschichten [ältere Literaturgeschichtsschreibung vor 1800]: zentral werden vielmehr zwei Funktionen: die der nationalen Identitätsbildung und der Auswahl, die nun nicht mehr rein quantitativ, sondern auch qualitativ begründet wird: gute Literatur ist von schlechter zu unterscheiden.’ Winko, ‘Negativkanonisierung’, 342. All translations by this author unless otherwise indicated. 6 Winko gives a thorough analysis of the literary historical discourses of the time. She shows that the criteria excluding Kotzebue from the literary canon have a tradition leading from the nineteenth century to the negative reception during Nazism. Winko, ‘Negativkanonsierung’. 7 Stock, Kotzebue im literarischen Leben der Goethezeit. 8 Winko, ‘Negativkanonisierung’. 9 Winko, ‘Negativkanonisierung’, 351ff. 10 Gottschall, Die deutsche Nationalliteratur, 204. 11 Kotzebue, An das Publicum, 13. 12 For a detailed analysis of Kotzebue’s moral judgement and the impact on the aesthetic and political judgement of his works, see Stock, Kotzebue, ­chapter  5:  ‘Kotzebues “Unmoral” ’, 73–​111; see also Winko, ‘Negativkanonisierung’. 13 Winko, ‘Negativkanonisierung’, 358ff. 14 ‘Mit ‘boshaftem Instinct’ sei es Kotzebue gelungen, ‘die schlummernden Sünden und Schwachheiten der Nation gegen ihre Tugenden aufzurufen, einzig durch perfide Escamotage’. Eichendorff, Geschichte der poetischen Literatur Deutschlands. Quoted in Winko, ‘Negativkanonisierung’, 359. 15 For information on Kotzebue’s audience, see Stock, Kotzebue, ­chapter 7: ‘Kotzebues Publikum’, 130–​70. 16 ‘All die Menschen, zum Exempel, die in den vornehmsten Städten Deutschlands, bey Aufführung meiner Stücke, Parterre und Logen füllen, lachen und weinen, loben und klatschen; die sind nicht das Publikum, sondern der große Haufe. Aber da hinten steht Einer in der Ecke, und grinzt und kaut an den Nägeln –​aha! der ist das

82  Meike Wagner Publikum! der bewahrt in seinem Busen das reine Feuer des ächten Geschmacks. Zwar, jetzt wird er vom großen Haufen überschrien, und spitzt vergebens den Mund, um zu pfeifen; aber harret nur, Morgen sezt er sich nieder und schriebt eine Recension für die Literatur-​ Zeitung, und beweißt euch mit vornehmen Lächeln, daß ihr Alle Dummköpfe waret.’ Kotzebue, Fragmente über Recensenten-​ Unfug, 51. 17 For an overview of the reception and a discussion of this aspect in the play, see Meyer, Verehrt, verdammt, vergessen, ­chapter 2: ‘Poetische Strategien am Beispiel von “Menschenhaß und Reue” ’. 18 Alexander Kosenina gives four reasons for the stage success of the play: (1) social relevance, (2)  stage quality, (3)  many references on other literary works, and (4)  immediate access to major national and international stages. Birgfield et  al., Kotzebues Dramen, 147ff. 19 Kotzebue, Die deutschen Kleinstädter, 24ff. 20 Ibid., 23ff. 21 Meyer, Verehrt, verdammt, vergessen, 41. 22 ‘Der Kotzebue ist doch ein niederträchtiger Kerl. Er hat auch nicht die mindeste Vorstellung von wahrer Sittlichkeit, … und man schämt sich ordentlich und ärgert sich, wenn man sich bei einzelnen Situationen rühren läßt, was mir ehrlichem Hunde doch hie und da begegnet.’ Friedrich Schleiermacher, 20 January 1809, quoted in Stock, Kotzebue, 166. 23 Kotzebue, Doctor Bahrdt mit der eisernen Stirn. 24 For a detailed account and interpretation of the Zimmermann affair, see Stock, Kotzebue, 21–​33 and Mattern, ‘Kotzebue’s Allgewalt’, 87–​100. 25 Letter to his mother, 5 April 1792, in Mathes, ‘Kotzebues Briefe’, 364. 26 Stock, Kotzebue, 30. In 1818, Ludwig Wieland, a political adversary of Kotzebue, even menaced him to re-​publish his Bahrdt pamphlet to remind the public on Kotzebue’s maliciousness. However, this undertaking was cancelled at the time due to censorship. Ibid. 27 ‘Mich hat das Stück (Menschenhaß und Reue) auf neue entsetzlich verdrossen. Es ist doch wirklich ein recht sichtbares Zeichen einer unästhetischen Rührung, wenn man sich über die Thränen ärgert, die man vergießt, und es ist eine eigentliche Gewalt, die ein Schriftsteller über einen ausübt, einem solche Thränen abzuzwingen. Das habe ich auch hier bei der Vorstellung wieder erfahren. Es kommen Momente, wo man wider seinen Willen gerührt wird und wo man sich deutlich bewußt ist, daß es keine andere Rührung ist, als die, mit der man die Wunden und Lumpen eines Bettlers ansieht.’ Letter to Friedrich von Schiller, 26 April 1799, quoted in Stock, Kotzebue, 166. 28 Are we after an aesthetic experience ‘zu irgend einer besondern Empfindungsweise oder Handlungsweise vorzugeweise aufgelegt, zu einer andern hingegen ungeschickt und verdrossen, so dient dieß zu einem untrüglichen Beweise, daß wir keine rein ästhetische Wirkung erfahren haben’. Schiller, Werke, 380. 29 I borrow these terms from Johannes Birgfeld. For a better understanding of aspects of an ‘aesthetics of innovation’ (Ästhetik der Innovation) and an aesthetics of professionalism (Ästhetik der Professionalität) see Birgfeld, ‘Medienrevolutionen’, 81–​117, esp. 86–​89. 30 For the relation of idealist and romantic thinking to the concept of progression see Mattern‚’Kotzebue’s Allgewalt’, 116. 31 Birgfeld and Conter, ‘Das Unterhaltungsstück um 1800’, X. 32 Birgfeld, ‘Medienrevolutionen’,  89.

On the other side of the canon  83 33 ‘Laissons nous aller de bonne foi aux choses qui nous prennent par les entrailles, et ne cherchons point de raisonnement, pour nous empecher d’avoir du plaisir –​ Lorsque je me suis bien diverti, je ne vai point demander si j’ai eu tort? et si les regles d’Artistote me defendoient de rire? –​C’est justement comme un homme, qui auroit trouvé une sauce excellente, et qui voudroit examiner si elle est bonne, sur les precepts du cuisinier français.’ Kotzebue, Fragmente über Recensenten-​Unfug, 92. Kotzebue’s spelling. 34 Friedrich Schlegel used this term in 1797 to claim that the sentimental would only become aesthetic through ‘absolute progression’, otherwise it just remained interesting on a physical level. Schlegel is quoted in Mattern, ‘Kotzebue’s Allgewalt’, 116. 35 Mattern, ‘Kotzebue’s Allgewalt’, 117. 36 In 1799 Kotzebue published a comedy Der hyperboreische Esel oder die heutige Bildung (The Hyperboreic Donkey or Today’s Education) satirising romantic thinking and philosophical education in contrast to a pragmatic education of common sense and emphatic sensibility. August Wilhelm Schlegel responds in 1800 with his Ehrenpforte und Triumphbogen für den Theater-​Präsidenten von Kotzebue (Entry of Honour and Triumphal Arch for the Theatre President von Kotzebue) severly attacking Kotzebue’s morals, his writings, and his audiences. 37 ‘Ich habe Kotzebue als Vertreter einer “Performanzelite” bezeichnet, nicht weil er selbst “auftritt”, sondern weil er im Namen der Performativität die Errichtung einer zweiten, zunächst “avantgardistisch” erscheinenden Perspektive auf das Kunstgeschehen verwirft, die von Seiten einer “Reflexionselite” von “Transzendentalrevolutionären” betrieben wird.’ Mattern, ‘Kotzebue’s Allgewalt’, 137ff. 38 Ibid., 138. 39 ‘Über die hiesigen Privattheater’, 931ff. 40 Schiller and Goethe, ‘Dilettantismus-​Schema’. 41 Vaget, ‘Der Dilettant. Eine Skizze’, 131–​58. 42 As early as 1788, Karl Philipp Moritz speaks of an ‘unpure incentive of building substances’ (unreiner Bildungstrieb), which indicates an incomplete artistic work without using the notion of ‘dilettantism’; cf. Moritz, Die bildende Nachahmung des Schönen. 43 Letter to Schiller 22. Juni 1799, Goethes Werke, 119. 44 Many of Kotzebue’s popular plays premiered on the stage of his amateur theatre in Reval,for example, Jeder Narr hat seine Kappe (1785, Eröffnung des Liebhabertheaters in Reval); Adelheid von Wulfingen (1788); Die Indianer in England (1790), first performed in Reval in February 1789; Der Eremit auf Formentera (1790). 45  Der Wachmeister. Unsere gestrengen Herren sollen in Sachen des Liebhabertheaters und der gesunden Vernunft, contra das Vorurtheil Recht sprechen. Der Ofenheizer. Das Liebhabertheater? was ist das für ein Ding? Der Wachmeister. Das ist kein Ding Peter, das sind Leute, die andern Leuten ins Handwerk pfuschen, es alle Augenblicke verpfuschen, und sich noch obendrein dafür bezahlen lassen. Der Ofenheizer. Nu, was das bezahlen betrifft, so finde ich das eben gar nicht dumm. Heutzutage trägt das Pfuschen mehr ein als das Handwerk, wenn nur der Pfuscher brav zu schwadroniren versteht. Der Wachmeister. Du hast Recht Peter, aber sie wollen den Leuten weiß machen, daß sie das Geld nicht für sich behalten, sondern unter die Armen vertheilen. Kotzebue: ‘Das Liebhabertheater vor dem Parlament’, 325ff.

84  Meike Wagner 46 ‘Überall, wo die Kunst selbst noch kein rechtes Regulativ hat, wie in der Poesie, Gartenkunst, Schauspielkunst, richtet der Dilettantism mehr Schaden an und wird anmaßender. Der schlimmste Fall ist bei der Schauspielkunst.’ Goethe, ‘Entwurf zu einer Abhandlung’. 421. 47 ‘Möglichster Rigorism in der äußern Form’. Schiller and Goethe, ‘DilettantismusSchema’, 418. 48 For a detailed discussion of Kotzebue’s ‘Theater-​Almanach’ with respect to the audience, see Birgfeld, ‘Theater ohne Schauspieler?’, 193–​214. 49 ‘Wie nun, wenn ich dem Publikum nach und nach eine Anzahl kleiner Stücke oder Scenen lieferte, bald rührend, bald lustig oder possenhaft? Stücke, zu welchen man nur vier oder fünf Personen und ein paar spanische Wände nöthig hätte? die man in zwei Tagen vertheilen, lernen und aufführen könnte? die zum Theil auch von Kinder an Geburtstagen der Eltern gespielt werden möchten? wobei ein geschickter Hofmeister, durch einen passenden Prolog oder Epilog, den Übergang auf die Feierlichkeit des Tages leicht finden würde.’ Kotzebue, Almanach dramatischer Spiele, 4ff. 50 His publisher Paul Gotthelf Kummer edited the last volume posthumously and announced that he would continue the series under the title Almanach dramatischer Spiele zur geselligen Unterhaltung auf dem Lande, begonnen von Kotzebue, fortgesetzt von mehrern. The Almanach was published yearly until 1868. Kummer, Almanach dramatischer Spiele,  V–​VI. 51 From Kotzebue’s all together 227 plays, 90 were published first in the Almanach dramatischer Spiele. 52 Birgfeld, ‘Theater ohne Schauspieler?’, 207. 53 Kotzebue, Fragmente über Recensenten-​Unfug, 119–​41. 54 Ibid., 119. 55 Unsigned review of ‘Untersuchung über den deutschen Nationalcharacter’, Allgemeine Literatur-​Zeitung, 7 December 1795, no. 327, col. 497. 56 Ibid., col. 500. 57 Ibid., col. 502. 58 Kotzebue, Fragmente über Recensenten-​Unfug, 124. 59 Ibid. 60 Ibid., 123. 61 Ibid., 130. 62 ‘Ohne um nichtsbedeutende Worte zu streiten, denke ich, es kann sowohl dem Dichter als dem Publikum gleichgültig seyn, diesem: ob sein Theater national heißt oder nicht, wenn es nur gut ist, und jenem: ob sein Publikum eine Nation ist oder nicht, wenn es nur aufgeklärt und empfänglich ist.’ Ibid., 133. 63 Vollständige Uebersicht, 20. 64 Röttger, ‘Todesstoß dem August von Kotzebue’, 166. 65 ‘Bey keiner (Nation) erhalten sich die beliebten Stücke auf der Bühne, folglich besitzt keine Einzige einen festen, eigenthümlichen Geschmack. Man wende mir nicht ein, daß ein paar Stücke von Shakespeare und ein paar von Moliere in England und Frankreich noch zuweilen gespielt werden; auch in Deutschland giebt man noch hier und da ein paar Stücke von Lessing, und wird sie immer geben; aber der feste, eigenthümliche Geschmack des Menschen, und folglich der Nationen, ist der Geschmack am Neuen.’ Kotzebue, Fragmente über Recensenten-​ Unfug (1797), 141.

On the other side of the canon  85

Bibliography Allgemeine Literatur-​Zeitung. Unsigned review of ‘Untersuchung über den deutschen Nationalcharacter in Beziehung auf die Frage:  Warum giebt es kein deutsches Nationaltheater’. 7 December 1795, no. 327, col. 497–​504. Birgfeld, Johannes. ‘Medienrevolutionen und gesellschaftlicher Wandel. Das Unterhaltungstheater als Reflexionsmedium von Modernisierungsprozessen’. In Das Unterhaltungsstück um 1800:  Literaturhistorische Konfigurationen  –​Signaturen der Moderne, edited by Johannes Birgfeld and Claude D. Conter, 81–​ 117. Hannover: Wehrhahn, 2007. Birgfeld, Johannes. ‘Theater ohne Schauspieler? Theatre on location?:  Kotzebues Konzept dramatischer Spiele zur geselligen Unterhaltung auf dem Lande mit Blick auf sein Verhältnis zum Publikum’. In ‘Das Theater glich einem Irrenhause’: Das Publikum des 18. und 19. Jahrhunderts, edited by Hermann Korte and Hans-​Joachim Jakob, 193–​214. Heidelberg: Winter, 2012. Birgfeld, Johannes, and Claude D. Conter. ‘Das Unterhaltungsstück um 1800. Funktionsgeschichtliche und gattungstheoretische Vorüberlegungen’. In Das Unterhaltungsstück um 1800:  Literaturhistorische Konfigurationen  –​Signaturen der Moderne, edited by Johannes Birgfeld and Claude D. Conter, VII–​XXIV. Hannover: Wehrhahn, 2007. Birgfield, Johannes, Julia Bohnengel, and Alexander Kosenina, eds. Kotzebues Dramen: Ein Lexikon. Hannover: Wehrhahn, 2011. Eichendorff, Joseph von. Geschichte der poetischen Literatur Deutschlands. Paderborn: Schöningh, 1857. Fohrmann, Jürgen. Das Projekt der deutschen Literaturgeschichte: Entstehung und Scheitern einer nationalen Poesiegeschichtsschreibung zwischen Humanismus und Deutschem Kaiserreich. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1989. Fühler, Armas Sten. ‘Das Schauspielrepertoire des Mannheimer Hof-​und Nationaltheaters’. Diss., University of Heidelberg, 1935. Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, and Friedrich von Schiller.‘Entwurf zu einer Abhandlung über den Dilettantismus (1799)’. In Wolfgang von Goethe. Gesamtausgabe der Werke und Schriften in zweiundzwanzig Bänden. Abteilung 2, Schriften. Vol. 16, Schriften zur Kunst I, edited by Wolfgang Frhr. von Löhneysen, 401–​19. Stuttgart: Cotta, 1961. Goethes Werke, Weimarer Ausgabe, IV/​14, Weimar: Böhlau, 1893. Gottschall, Rudolf von. Die deutsche Nationalliteratur in der ersten Hälfte des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts: Literarhistorisch und kritisch dargestellt, vol. 1. Breslau: Trewendt, 1860. Koschorke, Albrecht. ‘Geschlechterpolitik und Zeichenökonomie. Zur Geschichte der deutschen Klassik vor ihrer Entstehung’. In Kanon Macht Kultur.Theoretische, historische und soziale Aspekte ästhetischer Kanonbildungen, edited by Renate von Heydenbrand, 581–​99. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1998. Kotzebue, August von. An das Publicum. Brochure. Jewe 17. August 1793. –––​. Die deutschen Kleinstädter: Ein Lustspiel in vier Aufzügen. Wien: Wallishauser, 1803. –––​. Doctor Bahrdt mit der eisernen Stirn, oder Die deutsche Union gegen Zimmermann: Ein Schauspiel in vier Aufzügen, von Freiherrn von Knigge. S.l.: August Wilhelm von Schlegel, 1790. –––​. Fragmente über Recensenten-Unfug: eine Beylage zu der Jenaer Literatur-Zeitung. Leipzig: Kummer, 1797. –––​. Der hyperboreische Esel oder die heutige Bildung. Leipzig: Kummer, 1799.

86  Meike Wagner –––​. ‘Das Liebhabertheater vor dem Parlament (1784)’ In Kleine gesammelte Schriften des Herrn von Kotzebue: Präsidenten des Gouvernements-Magistrats in der Provinz Ehstland. 2nd edtion.Vol. 2, 323–64. Karlsruhe: Schmieder, 1792. –––. Menschenhaß und Reue: Schauspiel in fünf Aufzügen. Berlin: Himburg, 1790. –––​. ‘Vorrede’. In Almanach dramatischer Spiele zur geselligen Unterhaltung auf dem Lande. 1. Jahrgang. 1–6. Berlin: de la Garde, 1803. Kummer, Paul Gotthelf.‘Vorrede’. In Almanach dramatischer Spiele zur geselligen Unterhaltung auf dem Lande, von August von Kotzebue. 18. Jahrgang, I–​VIII. Leipzig: Kummer, 1820. Mathes, Jürg. ‘Kotzebues Briefe an seine Mutter’. Jahrbuch des Freien Deutschen Hochstifts (1970): 304–​436. Mattern, Pierre. ‘Kotzebue’s Allgewalt’: Literarische Fehde und politisches Attentat.Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann, 2011. Meyer, Jörg F. Verehrt, verdammt, vergessen:  August von Kotzebue. Werk und Wirkung, Frankfurt am Main: Lang, 2005. Moritz, Karl Philipp. Die bildende Nachahmung des Schönen. Braunschweig: Schul-​ Buchhandlung, 1788. Röttger, Kati. ‘ “Todesstoß dem August von Kotzebue”. Politisches Attentat  –​Fanal einer Krise. Zur Theatralität der Öffentlichkeit zwischen moralischer Bühne und politischer Gewalt’. In Agenten der Öffentlichkeit:  Theater und Medien im frühen 19. Jahrhundert, edited by Meike Wagner, 135–​68. Bielefeld: Aisthesis, 2014. Schiller, Friedrich von, and Wolfgang von Goethe. ‘Dilettantismus-​Schema’. In Wolfgang von Goethe. Gesamtausgabe der Werke und Schriften in zweiundzwanzig Bänden. Abteilung 2, Schriften. Vol. 16, Schriften zur Kunst I, edited by Wolfgang Frhr. von Löhneysen, 401–​19. Stuttgart: Cotta, 1961. Schlegel, August Wilhelm. ‘Kotzebue’s Rettung oder der tugendhafte Verbannte’. In Ehrenpforte und Triumphbogen für den Theater-​Präsidenten von Kotzebue bey seiner gehofften Rückkehr ins Vaterland. S.l.: s.n., 1800. Stock, Frithjof. Kotzebue im literarischen Leben der Goethezeit: Polemik –​Kritik –​Publikum. Düsseldorf: Bertelsmann Universitätsverlag, 1971. ‘ Über die hiesigen Privattheater’. In National-​Zeitschrift für Wissenschaft, Kunst und Gewerbe in den preußischen Staaten, 922–​32. Berlin: Braun, 1801. Vaget, Hans Rudolf. ‘Der Dilettant. Eine Skizze der Wort-​und Bedeutungsgeschichte’. Jahrbuch der Deutschen Schillergesellschaft 14 (1970): 131–​58. Vollständige Uebersicht der gegen Carl Ludwig Sand, wegen Meuchelmorders, verübt an dem K. Russischen Staatsrath v. Kotzebue, geführten Untersuchung, edited by Staatsrath von Hohnhorst, vol. 1. Stuttgart: Cotta, 1820. Winko, Simone. ‘Negativkanonisierung. August von Kotzebue in der Literaturgeschichtsschreibung des 19. Jahrhunderts’. In Kanon Macht Kultur:  Theoretische, historische und soziale Aspekte ästhetischer Kanonbildungen, edited by Renate von Heydenbrand, 341–​64. Stuttgart: Metzler, 1998.

5  Traces of dance and social life A dance book and its context Elizabeth Svarstad

Introduction The first man takes the first lady’s left hand, the second man takes in the same manner the third lady, and the third man the second lady … whereby they come to stand in a circle, and do the chain, until they meet the lady, after which they waltz.1 This description of a dance is found in a printed dance book, Toure-​Bog af Engelsk-​og Contra-​Dandse for mine Elever (Round dance book of English and country dances for my pupils), published by dancing master Svend H. Walcke (ca. 1753–​ 1825) in Bergen, Norway, in 1802, the hitherto earliest known printed dance book published in Norway. Glimpses of past dance practices teach us about dance repertory, movement qualities and the aesthetics of the time. However, a dance book can reveal knowledge about more than dance. Dance books as historical sources can be a starting point for studying, for example, dancing masters and their activity and teaching methods, differences between the genders and expected ways of being together, as well as how these social mechanisms were regulated by etiquette and established rules for correct manners. Taking Walcke’s early nineteenth-​century dance book and records of his work in Norway around 1800 as its starting point, and referring to other Norwegian, Danish, and continental dance books as well, this chapter addresses social dance in its Norwegian context in order to throw some light on the repertory of dances and the teaching of dance, etiquette, and polite manners. Memoirs written by one of Walcke’s dance pupils, Carsten Hauch, will also be studied in order to explore the possible differences between the dancing master’s ideal aims for his teaching and what happened in practice in social life around 1800.

Dancing master Walcke A dancing master was a person educated in dance, often with a former career as a dancer, who taught children, young people and also adults to dance. It was

88  Elizabeth Svarstad common, and also regarded as necessary, for wealthy families in the cities to either let their children take dance lessons at a dancing master’s school or hire a dancing master to give lessons to their children at home. Walcke was a Swedish dancing master who came to Norway around 1790 and worked most of his career in Christiania (Oslo), with briefer stints in Drammen and Bergen. Before he came to Norway he had worked as a dancing master in Sweden, where two dance books by him were published in the 1780s.2 In addition to the Toure-​Bog, two manuscripts by Walcke, Dansebok (Dance book) dated 1804 and Musik og Tuure Bog medelt[?]‌inhentede Lærdomme for mine Elever udi Dands (Music and round dance book collection of knowledge for my pupils in dance) dated 1816, are preserved at the National Library in Oslo. Walcke advertised his dance schools regularly in the newspapers and the advertisements show that he gave dance lessons at different locations in Christiania.3 From 1791 he was appointed as a dancing master at the Norwegian military academy in Christiania, where the cadets had weekly dance lessons.4 He continued his activity as a dancing master almost until he died in 1825.5 Walcke taught a repertory typical for the time around 1800 –​minuets and country dances. One of the newspaper advertisements tells that Walcke taught figured minuets and the newest French country dance with all the theatrical steps that are needed to dance with taste and propriety, in the most rapid and easiest way without the smallest inconvenience for the young people.6 Dancing master Walcke certainly was a somewhat special person. He had particular features that people remembered. He and his teaching methods are mentioned in several memoirs, all of which depict a tall, thin man with peculiar clothes, a speech impediment, and a temper.7 One description stems from a Christmas party at Fladeby Manor, where Christiania’s wealthiest families went for hunting and Christmas celebration every year at the end of the eighteenth century. Records from the parties show that they danced every night. Some of the other activities were card playing, party games, and performing a play for each other every night.8 One of the plays, written by chamberlain Bernt Anker, even contained a parody of dancing master Walcke. Huitfeldt notes that Walcke was a well-​known figure in Christiania and that his peculiar speech (he could not pronounce the letter k) was easy to imitate.9 However, in spite of his idiosyncrasies, his ability to teach dance to children and adults seems to have been incontestable. His teaching methods are described by one of his students in Bergen, where Walcke stayed for a few months in 1802 and where he also published the Toure-​Bog. This student, Carsten Hauch, later stated in his memoirs that Walcke had a special understanding of how to train children so that they could take part in all the dances that were in fashion at the time.10 I will return to Hauch’s descriptions of Walcke’s dance teaching, a very valuable contextual source, later in this chapter.

Traces of dance and social life  89

A collection of dances The Toure-​Bog is an oblong pocket size book with 24 pages, containing descriptions written in Danish of 54 dances.11 Danish was the official language in Norway at the time, and the Swede Walcke’s use of the Danish language, also in his manuscripts, may indicate an attempt to adapt to the market. The Toure-​ Bog contains dances of two different types: English dances and country dances. Tour is the French word for what translates into English as ‘round’.12 A round is a part of a dance, usually performed to one phrase in the music. As a rule, the number of rounds corresponds with the number of phrases and repetitions in the music. The title of Walcke’s book implies that it was intended for students who had already participated in his dance lessons. The Toure-​Bog does not contain instructions for the technical performance of steps, figures, and rounds. Rather, the dance descriptions are brief instructive information on what the different rounds consist of. Short instructions explain who dances with whom and how the couples move in relation to each other in, for example, a circle or a chain figure, as in the quote at the beginning of this chapter. The dances are organised in three different categories of dances as will be shown below. Two copies of the book are preserved at the university library in Trondheim.13 The pages are of soft paper and have worn edges. Both books show signs of having been much in use over time. They bear clear marks from having been folded into two, which is the situation for several such dance books, and indicate that the books had most likely been carried in people’s pockets. This makes sense because such collections of dances were created as a tool, as an aide memoire, for students who were already versed in dance and either wanted to remember the dances they had learnt or wanted to study new repertory on the basis of their already achieved knowledge and skills. The books were probably also brought to parties and balls. The university library does not have information on the provenance of the two preserved copies of Walcke’s dance book. We do not know who bought the two books, who owned them, or how and why they came to the library or even to Trondheim. It would have been very interesting to know who used the books in order to understand more about the role of dance lessons and dance practice in people’s life around 1800. However, the largest cities in Norway, not least Trondheim, had a rich and extravagant social life at this time, with plenty of balls and parties for the many wealthy families.14 Hence, many persons from the social elite may very well have owned and used a dance book like Walcke’s Toure-​Bog.

Dance forms There are three categories of dances in the Toure-​Bog: 45 dances called English dances (Engelsk-​Dands), 4 dances called country dances with steps (Contra-​Dands med Trin) and 5 dances called English country dances (Engelsk Contra-​Dands).

90  Elizabeth Svarstad Around 1800, ‘English dance’ and ‘country dance’ were well-​established terms for some of the most popular dance forms in Norway, as well as all over Europe. The first category, Engelsk-​Dands, is the Norwegian term for the French Anglaise, or ‘English dance’.15 These are dances for many couples at a time where the couples are arranged in a row and where a short dance sequence is repeated with new constellations of couples each time the sequence is repeated. The second category, Contra-​Dands med Trin, translates as ‘country dance with steps’. The term Contra-​Dands is a Norwegian term for the French contredanse, derived from the country dance tradition of the seventeenth-​century England.16 The dances named Contra-​Dands are usually dances for four couples at a time arranged in squares –​the so-​called quadrilles –​where the dance sequences are danced by the two couples facing each other and then repeated by the other two facing couples.The ‘with steps’ information has no clear explanation; however, information in Fredrik A. Otto’s writings about his experiences in dance as a child in the nineteenth century shows that it was optional to use ‘dance steps’. He writes that the dances could be performed with steps if one had the skills.17 The alternative was probably to perform the dance figures with walking steps. Comparing the dances in the Toure-​Bog with similar dance material in French and English dance books from the same time, we find many similarities in the way the dances are composed and how they consist of rounds, figures and quite advanced steps. These steps have many common features with steps from the eighteenth-​century French dance technique and the vocabulary of classical ballet steps.18 The third category, Engelsk Contra-​Dands, or ‘English country dance’, may be seen as a combination of a country dance and an English dance. I suggest that the Engelsk Contra-​Dands could be performed with simpler steps, as the descriptions of the English country dances contain less terms for steps than those of the country dances with steps. This, however, does not necessarily define the dance form. Also, the two categories differ in that the country dances have ten rounds with the couples organised in rows, while the English dances have eight rounds with the couples organised in a square. In the catalogue of published Nordic dances, Nordisk folkedanstypologi (Nordic folk dance typology), country dance (Norwegian kontradans) is defined according to the hypothesis that a large family of dances has its roots in the English tradition. All forms of dances that are believed to have a connection with these roots are called kontradanser or country dances.19 Country dance became a part of the dance repertory at the English court in the fourteenth century. It was brought to France as contredanse, and it spread over Europe and came to the Nordic countries during the eighteenth century as kontradans (or Contra-​Dands).20 It is common to define dances with couples dancing in a row as dances with English roots and dances with couples dancing in a square as dances with French roots. However, both traditions and several other ways of organising the dances exist in English, as well as in French and other European sources. The dance repertory in Walcke’s classes included mainly country dances and the minuet. The minuet was a remarkably important ballroom dance in

Traces of dance and social life  91 late seventeenth-​and eighteenth-​century Europe. There were different types of minuets, and Walcke mentions both the figured and the ordinary minuet in the Toure-​Bog. While a figured minuet (le menuet figuré) usually consisted of several different steps, the ordinary minuet (le menuet ordinaire) consisted of almost only the basic minuet steps.21 The ordinary minuet was a dance for one couple at a time, and for a long time it was the dominant opening dance at the ball, where each couple performed their minuet in turn according to rank. The ordinary minuet had six figures as a fixed form, which, with a few variations, remained the same during its long popularity throughout Europe. It is treated in very similar ways by several European dancing masters in the eighteenth century, such as Pierre Rameau, Kellom Tomlinson, Gottfried Taubert, and Johann Pasch.22 Thus, the minuet was important as a dance in the Norwegian repertory during the eighteenth century. It is mentioned in many sources, and some more or less fragmentary descriptions and notes exist.23 However, the minuet was probably not in use as a ballroom dance in Norway around 1800. It went out of fashion after the French Revolution in 1789, as it was strongly associated with the aristocracy.24 Still, even after it went out of fashion, it remained a favourite with the dancing masters, who kept it as an educational dance because of its usefulness in teaching deportment, technique, and bows and curtsies, which the country dances did not have in the same way.25 The minuet is mentioned a couple of times in the Toure-​Bog, as well as in other source materials for Walcke’s activity. This shows that the minuet was to some extent in use as a round, thus a part of country dances as well as a dance for mastering basic knowledge in dance. When all this information is viewed together, the importance of the minuet in the teaching of dance becomes clear, even though Walcke’s printed dance book contains descriptions only of country dances. In Walcke’s manuscript dated 1816, he has included some notes about the minuet.Walcke writes about the advantages of the minuet as the most important dance for learning and maintaining good behaviour and dance technique. He writes about the minuet as being advantageous for one’s social standing, conduct, and disposition and as a foundation for not only the dance but also for one’s lifestyle, esteem, love, politeness, morality, honour, deportment, gaiety, agility, and physical skills.26 These qualities were appreciated by dancing masters and society in Europe and serve as an answer to the question of why the minuet continued to function as an educational dance. As many scholars have noted, the minuet’s ballroom decline can be linked to shifts in the era’s sociopolitical situation. The minuet was associated with the aristocracy and, as German historian Heikki Lempa, who has researched the history of the body in modern Germany, states, society’s transformation in a more bourgeois direction made way for the waltz and its largely contrary values. On the other hand, the maintenance of the minuet as an educational dance can be explained exactly by the waltz’s ascendance as a dominant ballroom dance.27 Elements in the minuet such as technique, discipline, control, and bows and curtsies that could not be achieved in the same way in the waltz and the country

92  Elizabeth Svarstad dances continued to be appreciated by the dancing masters. Even though the minuet as such was out of fashion, conduct and etiquette were not. In the growing bourgeoisie there was still a need for an education in how to behave in society and at balls. The characteristics of the minuet made it more suitable in the teaching of conduct than were the waltz and the country dances. Lempa writes that the minuet, ‘explained in detail in most dancing handbooks, was not expected to be danced[,]‌but it provided prerequisites for the correct behaviour of a dancer and a cultivated person’.28 Through the minuet one gained ‘personal bearing (Anstand) and established the standards for a polished carriage’.29 These values were still appreciated around 1800, and it was still the dancing masters’ task to teach and prepare youth for social life. Lempa points out that the minuet was an excellent tool for cultivating the body and that it contributed to all aspects concerning Bildung through ‘personal development, the labour of spirit through the complicated steps and figures, a highly sublimated erotic undertone and a sophisticated code of mutual recognition’.30

The relationship between dance and manners The social life of wealthy families was regulated by rules for correct manners so that their children needed education in etiquette, and as this was an integral part of dance education, it was an important task for the dancing masters. Walcke writes in his 1783 book that the art of dance contains not only what actually is defined as dance, but also what makes for politeness in general life.31 Learning to stand, walk, and perform bows and curtsies in the correct manner was an intrinsic part of the teaching of dance. The first page of Toure-​Bog contains a brief rundown of the rules for dance and etiquette that is probably meant to function as a checklist for remembering the rules of conduct accompanying the dance, or possibly as a daily routine for practising what the dancing master had taught in the dance class. Each of the 11 paragraphs of this overview contains keywords for body and foot positioning, bows and curtsies, decency, speech, how to show honour both to oneself and to others, and different ways to behave in relating to people of different ranks. Several of these paragraphs indicate a large number of rules in different categories, for example, ‘The agreeable manner of speech in twenty-​four ways’ and ‘the dance in thirty-​two observations’.32 Three paragraphs mention the dance itself: the first paragraph is concerned with 16 different steps in English and country dances, the second is concerned with the dance figures and the importance of performing them with accuracy, and the third is concerned with the minuet and the decorum of performing both the ordinary and the figured minuets (Figure 5.1). In addition to learning dance technique and repertory, one of the most important skills was learning how to bow and curtsy (Compliment). The routines of greeting were a crucial part of social life, and the way of performing them was quite strictly regulated. There were different greetings for different occasions, for example, when entering a room, while seated, while eating, or

Traces of dance and social life  93

Figure 5.1 Svend Henrik Walcke, Toure-​Bog, p.  4:  List of positions, steps, bows, and rules for  correct behaviour. © NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket  –​ Gunnerusbiblioteket (NTNU University Library  –​Gunnerus Library). Reprinted with kind permission.

when inviting a person to dance. There were also different methods of greeting if the lady carried a parasol, a veil, or a fan.33 Presenting, giving, or taking a handkerchief, a fan, or a snuffbox also had a specific ritual.34 Walcke himself does not give instructions on how the different greetings should be performed, but says in one of his printed Swedish books that the rules are too elaborate to be included in his book. Instead, he writes that the methods for greeting will be taught by the dancing master in the dance class.35 Different kinds of bows and curtsies are described by several later dancing masters. One example is the Danish dancing master Jørgen Gad Lund’s description of the greetings of the cavalier and the lady. According to Lund, the lady’s curtsy should have a woman-​like gentleness, while the man’s bow should have more dignity and decorum.36 Such different instructions concerning bows and curtsies show that not only were the greetings different, but also the gender differences became even more apparent in the movements of the performance. Also, the different movements of greeting were corporeal and visible acts where the practitioner’s education was put on display for everyone around to observe. Concerning the relationship between dance and manners, records of dance teaching in the archive of the military academy in Christiania contain useful information for understanding the ways in which both were concerned with movement of the body. Dance improved the ability of the young cadets to move with grace and helped to transform them into a uniform group of military personnel with great importance in society. A note in the military academy’s

94  Elizabeth Svarstad copy book from 1769 shows that dance also enhanced their military training by developing their ability to carry their bodies, walk, stand, and move and use their extremities in a refined, easy, and decent manner. The training in dance was also conducive to the cadets’ skills in learning military exercises, and it helped them correct what in the copy book is called a peasant-​like nature and stiff and unsuited bodies.37 These statements corroborate the impression that dance was counted as an important factor in military education and viewed as a strength that would be used not only in the ballroom but also as a part of the overall instruction. From these statements, it is clear that dance taught more than knowledge in step vocabulary and dance repertory. Training in technique formed the basis of a flexible, straight body that moved naturally with elegance and ease. Success in social life implied making a good impression and achieving a good reputation. Manners functioned as a tool to indicate belonging to the social elite. Good manners were also part of a necessary strategy in building a network and making ‘acquaintances’ and could be a key to developing a successful career.38 The importance of respectability in social life is described by Lord Chesterfield, the British statesman and diplomat Philip Dormer Stanhope (1694–​1773). In his letters to his son, he writes that ‘[a]‌n ungraceful manner of speaking, awkward motions, and a disagreeable address, [sic] are great clogs to the ablest man of business; as the opposite qualifications are of infinite advantage to him’.39 Refined speech and elegant movements were among the skills needed for behaving properly. The opposite –​inelegant and improper behaviour  –​was easily recognised and could obstruct important connections and improvement in both social and professional lives.40 The conditions described by Chesterfield were probably applicable on a smaller scale to the upper social elite in Norway, where European etiquette and social culture were ideals to which the wealthiest families in Norway aspired. Through the body one expressed pride and honour. Lempa writes that ‘in traditional Western societies, recognition depended on pride and honor’ and that ‘a man’s value was measured against his carefully defined and nurtured social status, recognizable in his deeds and habitus’.41 Likewise, the Norwegian society was divided into social levels by the society of orders (standssamfunnet). Differences in orders were marked here also by dress and other rules for what was allowed and accepted within the orders.42 The German dancing master Johann Pasch was a student of the French dancing master Pierre Beauchamps. Pasch situated dancing between ethics and acting. Defining dancing as a discipline, he saw possibilities for regulating the natural instincts of human bodies by applying mathematical and philosophical principles. By carefully controlling his movements, a good dancer could create and materialise what Pasch called ‘a harmonious air (wolanständiges Air)’ and ‘[t]‌hrough the movements of arms, steps, and figures, and consequent control of the passions, the dancer could find the most accurate expression of his body and

Traces of dance and social life  95 social status’.43 In that way the person’s moral qualities became visible through embodiment and movement: Finally, as a combination of social control and artistic expression, dance was an effective tool of education. Dancing instructors, employed by universities and noble and patrician families, were the true educators, functionaries of moral cultivation.44 Dance as a tool of education is one of the three functions of classical dancing as envisaged in dancing manuals by, for example, Pasch, in addition to controlling bodies and being an instrument of expression.45 Dancing master Walcke certainly saw the connection between the teaching of dance and the education in moral values. He states that the art of dance includes not only dancing but also mannerliness and good conduct.46 His inclusion of moral values in his teaching becomes apparent in Minnes-​Bok (1782), where lists of moral questions and answers for both girls and boys, including advice on how to show sensitivity, modesty, and politeness, are included in between his list of dancing rules and his collection of dances. Dance was an expression of moral values.There are many examples of negative, pietistic attitudes towards dance and the potentially ‘unfavourable’ effects of dance. Rather than going deeper into the era’s criticisms of dance, I will present the Danish dancing master Poul J. Kaastrup’s views on the advantages of dance. Kaastrup published a dance book in Denmark in 1825, and he later worked as a dancing master in Norway. His book represents a later period than that of Walcke, but his perspectives are likely quite representative of the time around 1800. Kaastrup also holds the view that dance helps the deportment (Anstand) and gives an outer dignity. It gives the body a free and unrestrained posture, a quicker walk, and more confident bows and curtsies. He also maintains that the external education can be fulfilled only when the person has an inner education.47 As opposed to critics of dance, Kaastrup’s text accentuates the qualities in dance that actually express good moral values.

A young dance student’s tale Though contemporary sources rarely detail how the dancing masters taught in actual practice, Walcke, who had a certain position in society, is in fact mentioned in several memoirs written by former students. The most informative story is told by the Danish author Carsten Hauch, who in 1867 described his experiences of being a student of Walcke in Bergen in 1802, the same year the Toure-​Bog was published. His memoirs are a valuable source of knowledge regarding how the dance class was experienced by the pupils who attended the course. Hauch’s story also provides additional information to that in the dance books concerning the practice of dance, the methods used by the dancing master, the discipline itself, and how it was received by the pupils.

96  Elizabeth Svarstad Memoirs are usually published many years later than the action they describe. The author looks back at his or her childhood, where experiences and glimpses of the past are recalled. Written in retrospect, at a later stage in life, the person’s view on the situation may have changed.The situation may be glorified or may have faded, and the possibility of the person’s selective memory must be taken into account. On the other hand, the writings of his or her bodily experiences are important when past practices are studied. Memoirs may therefore very well be quite valuable sources. Hauch devotes a good many pages to describe his participation at dancing master Walcke’s school. He writes that the dance pupils were divided into groups according to their proficiency. Hauch and his sister attended the dance course some time after it had started. His sister, whom he describes as light and flexible in her movements, made progress. Hauch himself, however, struggled to learn the five positions and the battements that the pupils were trained in before the real dance exercises began.The different steps, or the places where their feet should be placed to dance a minuet, waltz, or English dance (engelsk Dands) were drawn with chalk on the floor. For a long time he did not advance from practising the minuet steps and was therefore relegated to the class meant for the youngest children.48 The more experienced pupils taught the less experienced ones, while dancing master Walcke taught the best students himself. For Hauch, being instructed by an experienced, though highly demanding, student proved more contentious than edifying. Indeed, during one session the pair even began fighting.49 Walcke then disciplined Hauch by having him stand in a corner (a common form of punishment in the class), causing the ashamed Hauch to cry as his opponent was quiet and appeared to be indifferent. The other boy’s aloofness provoked Walcke, however, and he tied the boy’s arm to a long stick.50 This punishment shows that it was not always a success having older pupils teaching the younger ones. On the other hand, the divided dance classes point towards Walcke having a certain popularity and many students. Also, Walcke himself does not write much about his teaching methods. Thus, Hauch’s writings give valuable information on the dancing master’s practice and how his pupils experienced the dance lessons. Hauch also writes that Walcke wished to give his pupils an elegant body posture and a refined deportment (Anstand). He therefore demanded that the boys bring their walking sticks and snuffboxes, and the ladies bring their fans. Hauch admits that this only partly happened, but that Walcke gave the pupils necessary instructions in how to use these accessories. They also had to walk around the room, with the boys leading the girls, and practise bowing and curtsying to each other. The boys were also expected to walk the girls home after the dance class, which shows how Walcke used his teaching as a preparation for participation in social life. However, Hauch writes that in spite of the dancing master’s instructions and the fact that he looked after them through the window, they did as expected only until they were out of the strict dancing master’s sight. As soon as they turned the corner, they all ran laughing on

Traces of dance and social life  97 their way home. Hauch says that this part of Walcke’s teaching seems to not have been fruitful.51 Hauch’s writings give a perspective on the practice of dance teaching that is not available only by studying the dance book itself. Writing from the student’s point of view, he presents information about the possible gap between the dancing master’s ideal practice and what actually happened. The students did not always do what they were told to do, and the dance education as detailed in the dance books was sometimes more of a desired ideal than an actual practice. This kind of information is important when historical sources for dance are studied –​they give context to the dance and tell how the dancing master’s work was received and managed by the students. Although the relationship between the genders is visible in the dancing master’s sources, they become even more visible through writings like that of Hauch’s. We see that the teaching of dance maintained the gender roles in the same manner as they were practised in social life. The dance instructions usually describe the man’s actions first, and if the lady’s movements are explained, these descriptions usually are concerned with how the gentlemen should lead the ladies. The differences between the genders are also shown in Hauch’s descriptions of Walcke’s teaching methods: boys were taught how to lead the girls in the dance and be polite and gallant, and boys and girls were also punished differently. The teaching certainly gave the students a taste of what awaited them in social life, of dance, deportment, and grace through the combination of skills that were needed for success.

Conclusion Taking Walcke’s Toure-​Bog as the starting point, which at first sight seems little more than a collection of dance descriptions, I  have sought to illuminate different aspects of the dance practice and social life of the era. Dance books and memoirs have been used as supplementary information. Together they form a basis for my analysis of the book in order to give a picture of the situation of social dance in Norway around 1800. The book shows the repertory that dancing master Walcke taught and in turn what he found important to write down, preserve, and publish in 1802. The repertory gives a spot check of the era’s dance fashion. A closer examination of the descriptions of the dances shows how they were composed and, to a certain extent, how they were performed, or at least how the author, the dancing master, intended them to be performed. Dance was a way of displaying oneself. It was an arena for showing skills and acquiring a good reputation. The repertory in the Toure-​Bog may be placed in a wider Scandinavian and European context of social dance. The investigation of dancing master Walcke and his activity helps depict a personality familiar with the high society in early nineteenth-​century Christiania and Bergen. Additional study of the contexts of dance gives a picture of the importance of etiquette and polite manners

98  Elizabeth Svarstad associated with dance and social life. Dance was a form of socialising, of being together. The presence of the country dance descriptions in Walcke’s dance book, and also in a great number of other collections of dances in the Norwegian and European sources, illuminates this dance form as the most important dance around 1800. The minuet, conversely, had become an educational dance and a basis for learning the country dances in the correct way. The dance was so important, and complicated, that lessons with a dancing master were necessary to master it correctly. In turn, the fact that the minuet itself was no longer performed at balls may explain why descriptions of it were not included in dance collections. The context of dance can tell stories about everyday life from points of view that otherwise could be hidden. Studies of dance books with memoirs, such as Hauch’s, as supplement throw a light on dance in its context, the function of dance, and the importance of having a trained body, refined movements, and a self-​confident behaviour. Through the movements of the body  –​the manner of taking a lady’s hand, the posture when standing in a circle, and elegant movements in the chain figure, or in the waltz  –​status and rank were displayed to be admired.

Notes 1 ‘1te Prim tager 1te Dames venstre Haand, 2den Prim. tager ligesaa 3die Dame, og 3die Prim. 2den Dame. … hvorved de kommer at staae i Runding, og giør Kiæden, indtil de træffer Damen, hvorpaa der valses.’ Excerpts from ‘Engelsk-​Dands No. 1’, in Walcke, Toure-​Bog. All translations from sources in Danish used in this chapter are by the author. 2 Walcke, Minnes-​Bok uti Danskonsten; Grunderne uti Dans-​Kånsten. 3 Norske Intelligenz-​Sedler 39, 28 September 1791; Norske Intelligens-​Sedler 44, 1 November 1797; Efterretninger fra Adresse-​ Contoiret i Bergen i Norge 39, 27 September 1800; Drammens Tidende 46, 8 June 1819. 4 Svarstad, “Aqquratesse i alt af Dands og Triin og Opførsel”. 5 Christiania Intelligentssedler 3, 10 January 1825. 6 ‘Figuré Menuetter og de nyeste Franske Contra-​Danse med alle de theatralske Pas, som dertil ere nödvendigen for at danse med Smag og Orden; paa den hurtigste og letteste Maade, uden det allermindste at besvære Ungdommen.’ Norske Intelligenz-​ Sedler 13, 30 March 1791. 7 Hauch, Minder fra min Barndom og min Ungdom; Nordby, Bedstemor. 8 Mykland and Butenschøn, eds., Fladebye Journalene. 9 Huitfeldt, Christiania Theaterhistorie, 317–​18. Huitfeldt later changed his name to Huitfeldt-​Kaas. 10 Hauch, ibid., 68. 11 Norway was part of the kingdom of Denmark-​ Norway until 1814, when Denmark ceded Norway to Sweden with the Treaty of Kiel after years of hostilities between Denmark and Sweden during the Napoleonic wars. ‘Treaty of Kiel’, Encyclopædia Britannica, accessed 20 September 2017, www.britannica.com/​event/​ Treaty-​of-​Kiel.

Traces of dance and social life  99 12 Sharp, The Country Dance Book, 17. 13 Walcke, Toure-​Bog. 14 Skagen, ‘Fra grevens gård til Prinsens gate’. 15 In the Norwegian source material for dance in the eighteenth century, one finds several spellings of the English dance, for example, Englois, Engelis, Anglais, and Angloise. 16 The most well-​known source is John Playford’s The English Dancing Master (1651). 17 Svarstad, ibid., 207. 18 For example, Gourdoux-​Daux, De l’art de la danse. 19 Bakka, ed., Nordisk folkedanstypologi, 46. 20 Bakka, Norske dansetradisjonar, 111; Europeisk dansehistorie, 90. 21 There are several examples of different choreographies of both types of minuets (figured and ordinary) in eighteenth-​century dance books. 22 Rameau, Le maître à danser; Tomlinson, The Art of Dancing; Russell, The Compleat Dancing Master; Pasch, Beschreibung wahrer Tanz-​Kunst. 23 Svarstad, ibid. 24 Svarstad and Nygaard, ‘A Caprice –​The Summit of Ibsen’s Theatrical Career’. 25 Lempa, Beyond the Gymnasium, 118. The minuet is mentioned as a ballroom dance in sources from the beginning of the eighteenth century, but in a nostalgic retrospective view rather than as a popular ballroom dance. See Schrøder, Oberstlieutenant Jens Christian Schrøders erindringer, 16. 26 Walcke, ‘Musik og Tuure Bog’. 27 Lempa, ibid., 117. 28 Ibid., 120. 29 Ibid., 120, notes 49–50. 30 Ibid., 122. 31 Walcke, Grunderne uti Dans-​Kånsten. 32 ‘Talemaadens behagelige Udførelse under 24 Maader’, ‘Dandsens Redebonhed i 32 Iagttagelser’. Walcke, Toure-​Bog, s.p. 33 Walcke, ‘Dansebok’, 166. Nasjonalbiblioteket. 34 Walcke, Grunderne uti Dans-​Kånsten. 35 Ibid. 36 Lund, Terpsichore, 5. 37 Kopibok (Letter book) L0001, no. 1 (1769–​1778), 21–​22. 38 Curtin, ‘A question of manners’, 401. 39 Chesterfield, The works of Lord Chesterfield, 216 (letter CLXIII) (London, 20 September 1748). 40 Curtin, ibid., 401. 41 Lempa, ibid., 113. 42 Sandmo, ‘Standssamfunnets idealer’. 43 Lempa, ibid., 116. 44 Ibid. 45 Ibid. 46 Walcke, Grunderne uti Dans-​Kånsten, s.p. 47 Kaastrup, Veiledning for mine Dandselærlinger. 48 Hauch, Minder fra min Barndom og min Ungdom,  68–​69. 49 Ibid., 69. 50 Ibid., 70. 51 Ibid.,  72–​73.

100  Elizabeth Svarstad

Bibliography Bakka, Egil. Europeisk dansehistorie, for VK 1 og VK 2. Oslo: Gyldendal undervisning, 1997. –––​, ed. Nordisk folkedanstypologi: En systematisk katalog over publiserte nordiske folkedanser. Trondheim: Nordisk forening for folkedansforskning and Rådet for folkemusikk og folkedans, 1997. –––​. Norske dansetradisjonar. Oslo: Det Norske Samlaget, 1978. Chesterfield, Philip Dormer Stanhope. The works of Lord Chesterfield, including his letters to his son, etc. to which is prefixed, an original life of the author. Dublin: G. Faulkner, 1774. Reprint. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1838. Curtin, Michael.‘A Question of Manners: Status and Gender in Etiquette and Courtesy’. The Journal of Modern History 57, no. 3 (1985): 395–​423. Gourdoux-​Daux, J. H. De l’art de la danse considéré dans ses vrais rapports avec l’éducation de la jeunesse, ou Methode, principes et notions élémentaires sur l’art de la danse pour la ville; suivis de quelques leçons sur la manière de se présenter et de se conduire dans la bonne société, 3rd edition. Paris: printed by the author, 1823. Hauch, C. Minder fra min Barndom og min Ungdom. Med et Prospect af Malmanger Prestegaard. Copenhagen (Kjøbenhavn): C. A. Reitzels Forlag, 1867. Huitfeldt, Henrik Jørgen. Christiania Theaterhistorie. Copenhagen (Kjøbenhavn):  Den Gyldendalske Boghandel, 1876. Kaastrup, Poul J. Veiledning for mine Dandselærlinger til at beholde de Trin og Toure i Hukommelsen, som de under mig have gjennemgaaet. Thisted: Translateur og Bogtrykker J. G. Lund, 1825. Lempa, Heikki. Beyond the Gymnasium:  Educating the Middle-​Class Bodies in Classical Germany. Plymouth: Lexington Books, 2007. Lund, Jørgen Gad. Terpsichore, eller:  En Veiledning for mine Dandse-​Elever, til at beholde de Trin og Toure i Hukommelsen, som de hos mig have gjennemgaaet, 3rd edition. Aarhuus: Aarhuus Stiftsbogtrykkerie, 1833. Mykland, Knut, and Barthold A. Butenschøn, eds. Fladebye Journalene:  Jagtjournalene 1798–​1823, Julejournalene 1800–​1808. Oslo: Andresen & Butenschøn, 1994. Nordby, Christine. Bedstemor. Oslo (Kristiania): Steenske Forlag, 1899. Pasch, Johann. Beschreibung wahrer Tanz-​Kunst. Frankfurt:  Wolffgang Michabelles and Johann Adolph, 1707. Playford, John. The English Dancing Master or, Plaine and easie Rules for the Dancing of Country Dances, with the Tune to each Dance. London: Thomas Harper, 1651. Reprint. Edited by Hugh Mellor and Leslie Bridgewater. London: Dance Books Ltd., 1984. Rameau, Pierre. Le maître à danser. Paris: Jean Villette, 1725. Reprint. New York: Broude Brothers, 1967. Russell, Tilden. The Compleat Dancing Master:  A Translation of Gottfried Taubert’s Rechtschaffener Tantzmeister (1717). Volume 1:  Introduction. New  York:  Peter Lang, 2012. Sandmo, Erling. ‘Standssamfunnets idealer’. In Norgeshistorie.no. Accessed 4 June 2020. www.norgeshistorie.no/​enevelde/​1204-​standssamfunnets-​idealer.html. Schrøder, Hans. Oberstlieutenant Jens Christian Schrøders erindringer. Oslo (Kristiania): Steenske Forlag, 1924. Sharp, Cecil J. The Country Dance Book, vol. 1. London: Novello and Company, 1934. Reprint. London: EP Publishing, 1972. Skagen, Annabella. ‘Fra grevens gård til Prinsens gate: Teater i Trondhjem 1790–​1814’. PhD diss., NTNU, 2015.

Traces of dance and social life  101 Svarstad, Elizabeth. ‘ “Aqquratesse i alt af Dands og Triin og Opførsel”: Dans som sosial dannelse i Norge 1750–​1820’. PhD. diss., NTNU, 2017. Svarstad, Elizabeth, and Jon Nygaard. ‘A Caprice:  The Summit of Ibsen’s Theatrical Career’. Ibsen Studies 16, no. 2 (2016): 168–​85. Tomlinson, Kellom. The Art of Dancing:  Explained by Reading and Figures:  Whereby the Manner of Performing the Steps Is Made Easy by a New and Familiar Method. London: printed by the author, 1735. Walcke, Sven Henric. Grunderne uti Dans-​Kånsten:  Til Begynnares Tjenst. Gothenburg (Göteborg): L. Wahlström, 1783. –––​. Minnes-​Bok uti Danskonsten. Nyköping: Carl Hasselrot, 1782. Walcke, Sven Henrik. Toure-​Bog af Engelsk-​og Contra-​Dandse for mine Elever. Bergen: R. Dahls Efterleverske, 1802.

Archival sources Nasjonalbiblioteket (The National Library of Norway) Walcke, Svend H., ‘Dansebok’. Mus.ms. 295, Eske 35,1804. Accessed 21 May 2020. www.nb.no/​items/​26df180a8e79c083516dceb3e3389c40?page=0&searchText=. Walcke, Svend H., ‘Musik og Tuure Bog medelt[?]‌inhentede Lærdomme for mine Elever udi Dands & afgivet av mig S. H. Walcke. Aaret 1816’. Mus.ms. 299, Eske 36, 1816. Accessed 21 May 2020. www.nb.no/​items/​37de20dee83bbf3110fffe7a2c508c ac?page=0&searchText=.

Riksarkivet (The National Archives of Norway) Kopibøker (Letter books). Forsvaret (Norwegian Armed Forces). Krigsskolen (Den Norske Militære Mathematiske Skole), RAFA–​1883/​1/​Fa/​L0001.

6  Outside canon Anonymous music and informal cultural activities in Trondheim around 1800 Eva Hov

Introduction In the town of Trondheim, Norway, a musical society was founded in 1786 for the performance of chamber and orchestral music.1 The aim was to ‘stimulate music to flourish’ because music is the most encouraging enjoyment for the mind, in particular when adjusted to the taste of the audience, including music of various descriptions, as the kind which one much admires, often is thought less of, or not at all enjoyed, by someone else.2 In 1847, Aage Schult, director of a subsequent musical society, stated that people at the time generally shared his view, that the musical forces of the town if firmly joined, and led through a determined principle worthy of the art, might be used to true benefit and edification. … Should it [the music] really be allowed to degrade into a mediocre pastime, wretchedly drag itself between Vauxhalls, fireworks, punch and various pranks; should the mild and benevolent flame, lit by the great masters of the past, whose names have been rendered the stamp of immortality by enlightened posterity, be extinguished.3 These views on music stand in striking contrast to each other. One reason may be that the first remark was expressed at a time before the formation of a musical canon, while the second was written after this canon, with its standards and ideology, had begun to be generally accepted.4 By the time the earliest accounts of the cultural history of Trondheim were written, in the 1870s, the concept of musical canon seems to have been firmly established, so that ‘pre-​ canon times’ were also viewed through the lens of the canon paradigm. The ideals and standards of canon would decide what should be included in such a narrative, and what should be disregarded as irrelevant. Life in Trondheim was seen in ‘bird’s eye view’, where certain persons and activities were found worthy of being closely studied and documented, while others were ignored

Outside canon  103 and marginalised. As it turns out, subsequent writers on cultural history seem to have mainly re-​examined the same sources and reworked the same stories, adding more detailed analyses and contextual material. These narratives may be seen as forming a canon in themselves. In this chapter, we will change the perspective and venture into ‘street view’ to look for what has been left out from the canonical accounts of cultural life –​joining the pastime of ordinary people, and perhaps even expose ourselves to the daring perils of ‘Punch and various Pranks’. Musical activities, social dance, and drama will be re-​examined by exploring informal sources such as handwritten music books, diaries, and other manuscripts from the period 1760–​1820.We will look into whether the paradigm of canon may help explain why these sources, and the information they provide, have previously largely been overlooked. Might more open-​minded studies of this neglected archive material show us something new and different, compared to the ‘canonical narrative’ of the cultural history of Trondheim, which could prove relevant for further research?

The cultural history of Trondheim: A ‘canonical version’ In 1874, Christian Thaulow (1806–​1888) wrote a description of musical activities in Trondheim.5 Thaulow was a long-​standing member of musical societies and quoted excerpts from minute books mixed with personal comments. At the same time, the archivist of the State Archives in Christiania (Oslo), Henrik Jørgen Huitfeldt (1834–​1905), was compiling an extensive account of the history of theatre, music, and dance in Christiania.6 The works of Thaulow and Huitfeldt seem to have inspired the Trondheim officer, journalist and art critic Johan Lebrecht Hornemann (1846–​1928) to draft a history of theatre and music in Trondheim.7 Hornemann drew a picture of the working conditions and achievements of Trondheim professionals  –​organists, military musicians, town musicians, and dancing masters –​and listed various performing artists who visited the town. His main sources were advertisements in newspapers and official documents. In addition, minutes and documents from musical and dramatic societies enabled him to describe activities where professionals and amateurs joined to perform at concerts and on the theatre stage. What Hornemann described may be labelled as the professional, public, formal, and organised cultural activities, fitting into the ‘canonical concept’ of composers/​ writers  –​works  –​performing artists  –​attentive audience. Hornemann’s manuscript and newspaper articles have served as important secondary sources, and perhaps also as templates, for subsequent writers.

Literature on theatre, music, and social dance in Trondheim A public theatre, with semi-​professional actors (mainly artisans), was opened in 1803, and a dramatic society, in which members performed for each

104  Eva Hov other, was founded the same year.8 Prior to this, theatre companies had been visiting the town, and selected guests may have seen plays performed by amateurs on purpose-​built stages in the stately homes of the only two aristocratic families in Trondheim. Brief accounts of this activity have been given in books by Ole Øisang and Thoralf Berg.9 Liv Jensson wrote more extensively about theatre in Trondheim between 1800 and 1835, adding lists of performances, actors, and members of the dramatic societies.10 In her substantial work on theatre in Trondheim during 1790–​1814, Annabella Skagen chose a different angle, with the main focus on contextual analysis of the performed repertory.11 In an article on musical life in Trondheim around 1800, Hampus Huldt-​ Nystrøm investigated how many persons were able to support themselves by working as professional musicians in the town.12 Ulf Steinar Berg has examined military music in Norway, with the focus on Trondheim.13 The lives and surviving compositions of three organists are well documented in Asbjørn Hernes’ biography of Ole Andreas Lindeman (1769–​1857),14 Kari Michelsen’s works on Johan Daniel Berlin (1714–​1787),15 and Karl Dahlback’s study of Berlin’s son Johan Henrich Berlin (1741–​1807) and the earliest musical society.16 The activity of this society, as well as a subsequent one, was later examined by Håkon Sivertsen and Unni B. Johansen.17 A more recent article on music life in Trondheim in the early 1800s by Ingrid Loe Dalaker gives another account of the professional musicians and musical societies.18 Asbjørn Hernes has written a substantial work on Norwegian music between 1600 and 1800, for a great part concerning the district surrounding Trondheim.19 He represents a different viewpoint, studying the interaction between organists, town musicians and fiddlers in the countryside, and tracing ‘migrating melodies’ as well as other possible influences. Similar perspectives characterise Bjørn Aksdal’s very condensed history of traditional music in Trondheim through 300 years, which also mentions local handwritten music books and informal social dancing. The same applies to Hans Olav Gorset’s extensive study of Norwegian eighteenth-​century music manuscripts (including references to J. D. Berlin), which had main focus on the music itself and how to perform it.20 Erlend Rasmussen set out to perform musical analysis of pieces in the music book of Hans Jørgen Wille (mentioned later), but later widened his scope to give an account of music in Trondheim in the early 1800s, including more informal settings, for instance, ball dance and singing in clubs. Rasmussen even briefly discussed the use of music in private homes, based on a couple of advertisements offering printed sheet music for sale.21 On the whole, literature about theatre, music, and social dance in Trondheim mainly focused on professionals, institutions, and organised cultural activities, and thus conformed with the ‘canonical narrative’ introduced by Hornemann. Among the exceptions were Hernes, Aksdal, and Gorset, with their shared interest in dissemination of music, the relations between urban and rural performers and their repertories, which resulted in valuable insights into the borderland between what is now often labelled as ‘traditional’ and ‘art music’.

Outside canon  105 Aksdal and Rasmussen also showed a broader curiosity about informal cultural experiences, outside the sphere of institutions and professionalism.

Outside canon: A different voice from Trondheim’s past It is time to consider what alternative sources may add to the picture. Naturally, relying on surviving manuscripts represents a bias in itself, as they were mainly written by, and about, members of the ‘educated class’. On the other hand, moving in the same circles about which Hornemann wrote will give us a fair starting point for comparison. An invaluable source to be explored is a diary written in Trondheim during the first five months of 1807.22 The writer was William Allingham (1789–​1866), son of a merchant in Ballyshannon, Co. Donegal, Ireland. William’s sister Jane was married to the Trondheim merchant Otto Owesen, and William had spent the preceding two years as an apprentice in Owesen’s business. William was eagerly absorbing new knowledge and experiences, and recorded in his diary everyday life, as well as his own thoughts and opinions on many subjects. The Owesens were close friends of the prominent merchant Hans Carl Knudtzon and his family, who belonged to the social and cultural elite of Trondheim. Two of Knudtzon’s sons, Broder (1788–​1864) and Jørgen (1784–​ 1854), were comrades of William’s and would later become well known as cultural patrons in Trondheim and on the continent.23 Knudtzon’s youngest daughter, Sarah Marie Johannsen (1782–​1854), was the most intimate friend of Jane’s until Jane passed away in early March 1807. From this time on, William and Sarah Marie formed a close friendship.

Enjoyment of dramatic works outside of the theatre William Allingham attended four theatre performances, of which he wrote reviews in his diary, but he spent far more time enjoying dramatic works at home. In less than five months he read and commented on plays and Singspiele by Shakespeare (Hamlet, in a new Danish translation, which Allingham compared with the original in English), Patrat, Kotzebue, Lafontaine, Olufsen, Heiberg, Abbé Vogler, Wessel/​Scalabrini (Kjærlighed uden Strømper [Love without Stockings]), Brun (Einer Tambeskielver), Falsen/​Kunzen (Dragedukken [The Magic Doll]), Thaarup/​ Schulz (Peters Bryllup [Peter’s Wedding]), and Oehlenschläger (Freyas Altar [Freya’s Altar]).24 Although far from financially well off, Allingham bought the collected works of Ludvig Holberg and Peter Andreas Heiberg. Allingham was a great admirer of Kotzebue, and teased a couple of friends who did not share his taste. On the last pages of his journal, Allingham wrote: Mr. Luytcus [sic] … entertained us very much after Supper, by reading a kind of Drama, written last year by Præsten [the clergyman] Modtzfeldt [sic] in Bergen Stift; it is called [Continued on the following page.]

106  Eva Hov

Figure 6.1 The Knudtzon family, Trondheim. These are William Allingham’s friends, the Knudtzon family. While the elder siblings are occupied with musical activities, Sarah Marie is knitting, Jørgen stands behind her dressed in uniform, and Broder is playing with a spinning top. Painted by Elias Meyer, 1795 (private ownership). © Photo: Eva Hov. Reprinted with kind permission.

‘Odel og Elskov’ [Allodial Right and Lovemaking] and the two principale [sic] characters are now in Town, the[y]‌live in Ørkedahlen [Orkdal] and are both very much deformed, and were married last year –​he has lent it to me to copy … every one of the characters are living & have their proper names in the Drama … I agree with Luytcus, when he says that it is something in the Vesselske-​Smag [in the style of Wessel], but not with any person, that could think of comparing it to ‘Kiærlighed uden Strømper’!25 Hornemann also mentioned the comedy Odel og Elskov in his manuscript, because this play, together with another ‘original Norwegian’ one called Miskjendelsen (The Misjudgement), was put on stage at the public theatre in Trondheim in 1823. According to Hornemann, Odel og Elskov was mediocre in aesthetic respects. The play had originally been written ‘as a Christmas joke’ many years earlier, never intended to be performed. ‘[It] has never been printed, but circulated in numerous handwritten copies and was very popular … most people knew it, and would even remember longer passages by heart, which were recited on suitable occasions’.26 Hornemann explained that the play had great success at the theatre because expressions and mannerisms of contemporary persons were mimicked in the dialogue. After the performances of the

Outside canon  107 two plays, a dispute followed in the paper, including a demand that the theatre should be closed. However, it might well have been the other play which caused offence.27 Odel og Elskov still exists as several handwritten fragments, and a complete but rewritten version where the portrayed persons have been anonymised.28 When comparing parallel versions of the text from different fragments, numerous deviations are found. Some may be explained as results of misreadings or miswritings, but in other cases whole words are exchanged for synonyms. The wedding, which forms part of the plot, took place in January 1806 in Orkdalen (a valley about 40 km southwest of Trondheim).29 This is where the author of the play, the parson Hans Bull Motzfeldt (1773–​1827), had grown up. The main characters are all possible to identify, including Motzfeldt himself, who seems to have officiated at the wedding, as well as parts of his family. Some of the characters speak the local dialect.There are references to a cheeky burglar who caused much fear in Trondheim in 1805, until he was finally caught and it was revealed that he was actually one of the assisting judges –​the kind of inside joke which would have amused people in the town. The full version of Odel og Elskov is copied into a book which belonged to the secret society Det Runde Bord (The Round Table).30 This society was founded in 1817 by Motzfeldt, along with two other clergymen and an officer. They met in hiding to share their work and inspire each other. The society was dissolved after a senior officer had demanded its secrets to be revealed in 1822. A  large section seems to have been removed from the society’s book, but a great number of poems, songs, and prologues written by Motzfeldt and Captain Lorentz Diderich Klüwer (1790–​1825) still remain, as well as Annas Minde (Memory of Anna), a short comedy written by Klüwer in 1819.

Informal musical activity No advertisements for concerts have been found in the Trondheim papers from the spring of 1807, and William Allingham never mentions attending any concerts either. However, apparently there was no lack of music in his life. Allingham was frequently practising on his ‘fiddle’ (as he writes himself), alone or together with his ‘music master’, or he would play together with friends –​ occasionally combined with ‘drinking a Jug of Punch’. On one occasion, one Captain Biering amused Allingham greatly with ‘some Polsk-​Danser, which he plays with great spirit!’.31 Allingham also spent quite a great amount of time browsing and playing through sheet music which he borrowed from friends, and copying the pieces which he liked most into numerous self-​made music books. He was an early bird and would wake up at five in the morning, read a couple of hours and then get up, to either ‘play on the Fiddle, Bind in Books, or write music’. One dark and cold February morning, Allingham ‘went in to Mr. Ursin’s, it was after 7,o,c. [sic] They were all in Bed; I went up to Lars Grunts room, he was asleep, I aweaken’d [sic] him; and he lent me some very fine Engelsk-​Dandser

108  Eva Hov [i.e. country dance tunes]!’32 Allingham was very happy to receive a gift from the Knudtzons, a ‘music Book … for the Fiddle, with 92 German pieces in it’, which had been collected and written down by a cousin of theirs in Flensburg.33 One evening, a ‘Country man’ who had been selling Owesen some tar entertained Allingham by singing ‘Polskdands –​& Halling & dansed [sic] also; and a great many Norske Viser [Norwegian airs]’ among which were God Qvel min Make, her er jeg (Good evening, my friend, here I am) and Stusle Søndags Qvel (Gloomy Sunday evening).34 Allingham had never seen a man with a ‘greater flow of good Spirits; & he was not at all intoxicated’. Allingham was very happy to borrow the lyrics of these two ‘national songs in the Bønder-​Sprog (countryman’s Language)’ from a friend, as he wished to collect as many of them as possible.35 After Jane’s death in March, William Allingham carefully wrote down her favourite melodies into a music book as a gift to their dear friend Sarah Marie Johannsen. Johannsen had never been taught to read sheet music or play the piano, but Jane had shown her how to play Boer jeg paa det høie Field (If I lived on the lofty mountain) in the ‘beautiful manner’ which Jane herself used to play it.36 Only with one hand, though, as Johannsen had a burn, which prevented her ‘playing the Base perfectly on the Piano’. This meant that Jane’s fine bass was lost into oblivion, which Allingham thought a great pity. ‘No person in Norway could sing & play “Bore [sic] jeg & c” –​ with the same taste & in the same new manner as my dearest Sister –​every norse [sic] man & woman were astonished to hear her!’ Now Allingham was determined to teach Johannsen how to read sheet music and gave her lessons himself so that she could learn William’s return and Chit Chat –​which she later played for him.

Song and music books None of the music books which Allingham mentions have been found, but a few others, written in Trondheim at about the same time, have survived. As time and effort were invested in copying favourite songs and pieces of music into these books, they give us an impression of what was really close to the hearts of their owners. Else Wensell (1791–​1861), the daughter of a widowed merchant, gathered the lyrics of 34 of her favourite songs into a book in 1812.37 Besides popular drinking songs, and airs about love and friendship, there are also songs from Danish Singspiele: Gak bort, du kielne Hyrde (Go away, lovesick shepherd) from Freyas Altar by Oehlenschläger (1804),38 and Jeg vil flye din Høitids Fryd (I must flee the mirth of your feast) from Peters Bryllup (Peter’s Wedding) by Thaarup and Schulz (1793), in which a freed slave laments being separated from his beloved, and the hardships of slavery.39 In the poignant second verse, the slave asks Hvad har stakkels Neger gjort, At den blanke Mand ham hader? (What has the poor Negro done, for the white man to hate him?).40 Two other as yet unidentified songs point to literary interests: Der hvor kalde Bjergkloft spruder klare Vand (In the cold crevice, where clear water flows) depicts

Outside canon  109 Petrarch imagining his beloved Laura mourning by his grave.41 Om nogle Timer slaar ei meer mit Hjerte (In a few hours, my heart will end its beating), Werther sings to his best friend, also husband of Charlotte, explaining that he will soon take his life, and reflecting on what will happen after his death.42 There is also an eerie song about Maria, who sees the ghost of her dead lover Peder in the night, takes his hand –​and in the morning her friends are weeping by her cold corpse. More surprisingly, perhaps, we find eight heroic and strongly patriotic songs, mentioning Norway but not Denmark. Four of them have not yet been found in other sources. One of the more well-​known songs, Lyder Sagen’s Norrig, vor Moder, bedaget af Ælde (Norway, our Mother, weary from age), had been adjusted to fit the present situation: Instead of encouraging protection against any unnamed enemy, Wensell sang ‘should our neighbour, with the faithless British … by trickery put your Mother behind bars’.43 Since 1807, the British blockade had prevented most international trade and the transport of grain from Denmark, resulting in famine. Trondheim officers and soldiers had been called out to war against their Swedish neighbours in 1808–​1809. On the other hand, there are two other songs which present a strong contrast and show awareness of the moral dilemmas of struggle and war. One gives voice to a soldier, who with bottomless sorrow takes leave of his wife and parents, expecting to be killed the next day. The other is Rasmus Frankenau’s elegy ‘Valpladsen’ (The battle field), with the first line:  ‘God! Where am I? Heavenly Being’.44 This describes, in graphic detail, the scene of a bloody battlefield at midnight, where a dying soldier reflects on the madness of war. This poem seems to have been used as a song in Trondheim. The lyrics show numerous deviations from Frankenau’s printed poem, not easily explained as copying errors. The music book of the sailmaker Johan Andreas Hveding (1736–​1813) was probably written in the late 1790s or around 1800.45 This book contains 315 pieces, many of them arranged as violin duets, of which only five are attributed to composers. About half of the tunes is a mixture of dance music like minuets, polonaises, and longways country dances, besides marches, allegros, and other pieces. The other half consists of the melodies of hymns and songs, 40 of them outright copied from a Danish song book, printed in 1786.46 One of the airs is the melody of a song also found in Wensell’s book, Jeg vil flye (I will flee) –​only here the title is taken from the second stanza Hvad har stakels Neger giort. Compared with Schulz’ original aria, this melody was certainly transformed on its way from Copenhagen. Part of the melody has been simplified, and it has changed from minor to major key. Some of the hymn melodies are interesting, as they differ from the corresponding ones in any of the official chorale books of the time (or earlier). One of the hymns, Et trofast Hierte, o Herre min (A faithful heart, oh my Lord), is actually much more similar to a version of the tune found in a music book from Orkdalen, dated 1676.47 Johan Gjert Ulstad (1783–​1847) was the son of a merchant who lived at Bakklandet, an area outside the town centre, populated by tradesmen, artisans,

110  Eva Hov seamen, and working people. Ulstad’s music books, one dated 1799 and another 1799–​1818, are also written for the violin and hold more than 200 tunes in total.48 With the exception of one patriotic song, all the rest are engelskdans (longways country dances), and not a single composer is mentioned. Very few of the tunes have specific names, among them six which are also found in Hans Hinrich Jacobsen’s printed Copenhagen collection from 1780.49 However, the melodies of some of these tunes have changed, as have some of the titles (for instance, from Le Danger d’être belle to Le Denger de estre Belle). While Jacobsen generally names the composer or provenance of his dances, Ulstad provides no such information. This huge collection of dance tunes suggests that Ulstad may have played for dancing. Hans Jørgen Wille (1787–​1854) was the son of the Rector and Dean, Hans Jacob Wille, who was also the first director of the dramatic society founded in 1803.50 By the time Wille began writing his music book, in 1801, he was already working as notarius at the Bishop’s office. Wille’s book, which was probably finished in 1804 when he left Trondheim, has a mixed content of more than 100 dance tunes (mostly longways country dances and a few minuets), rondos, andantes, arias, marches, and other pieces, written for the violin.51 We find an embellished version of the Marche des Marseillois, which was well liked in Norway, and Aria Con Variattion [sic] over the melody of the beloved patriotic song For Norge, Kiæmpers Fødeland (For Norway, home of giants) with lyrics by Johan Nordahl Brun.The music book also contains seven tunes named vals, valz, valzer or valtzer, the earliest waltzes which are known for certain to have been written down in Trondheim.52 One of them is attributed to ‘Modszart’ [sic]. In contrast to the other music books, Wille gives us the names of the composers for about 30 of the tunes. Where it has been possible to identify the composers, the time from their births to the writing of this music book is on average around 30 years, which means that the music was very new. Most of the people mentioned were contemporary inhabitants of Trondheim, whom Wille might have known personally.Ten melodies are attributed to Peter Eberg (1765–​ 1815),53 who was the town musician at the time, and 12 to his two apprentices (Morten Berg and Diderich Øyen). In addition, two were composed by the late organist Johan Christopher Schreiber, and Georg Frederich Mann, who had lodgings together with working people in a humble ‘Tar Hut’ just outside the town.54 The merchant Matthias Borch, who was married to a granddaughter of the late organist Johan Daniel Berlin, had also composed a dance tune.

Social dance in Trondheim In his diary,William Allingham reported from a New Year’s ball, where between 80 and 90 people were dancing from 6 o’clock in the evening until 5 o’clock in the morning. Allingham himself danced several waltzes and longways country dances, most of them with his favourite dancing partners, ‘A. M. Ville’, who unfortunately ‘does not at all understand the Language of the Eyes’, and ‘Jomfrue Snidkler’, who was ‘a perfect Adept in the Art’.55

Outside canon  111 For the benefit of Irish readers, Allingham wrote down an overview of the dances used in Trondheim. He declared himself a bit confused about why the Norwegians had given the name engelskdans (English dance), to what resembled English longways country dances, but ‘the figures are different’, and ‘there is also Waltzing round in them!’ Country dances called Hopser are in ‘reel time … they are in general too slow for an Irishman, but I am now naturalized to them! … Jiggs are not at all known here –​but Reels are often used’.56 Allingham’s favourite dance, however, was the waltz, where people were ‘waltzing round & round; & one pair has no Connexion [sic] with the other’. This dance had been accepted by the educated elite far earlier in Scandinavia than in Britain.57 Allingham found it slightly amusing that even the visiting Mr. Alexander Baillie, ‘who is a borne [sic] Cockney [i.e. from the east end of London], was taught to Waltz by W. Allingham.58 Him and I  have had many Waltzes together’. Next, Allingham wrote about a sea captain from Birmingham, whom he had helped to practise waltzing nearly an hour in the evenings –​but, he adds, ‘I prefer Waltzing with a Lady!’ Allingham also mentioned ‘the two national dances’ and wrote that he had not yet learnt ‘Halling’, but that Captain Biering had been teaching him ‘Polsk-​ Dands’, and had said that Allingham could dance it ‘tolerably well’ now. He only still found a ‘Cast’ in the dance, which Biering had shown him, a little difficult.59 Allingham also made an astonishing statement: that he found ‘Polsk-​Tunes are excellent to Waltz round to! in my opinion much better than ret[t]‌elig Valtz [proper Waltz]!’60 It sounds as if this was not simply a prank invented to tease his dancing partner, but something which Allingham did actually practise now and then. Other examples of local creativity may be found in an anonymous dance book, which seems to have been written in Trondheim in the 1770s.61 It contains sheet music and dance instructions of about 40 longways country dances. Several of these have titles in English, or a curious mixture of English and Danish, like The Söster and Broter. Eleven of the titles are also found in Wright’s collection of English country dances from 1740.62 However, seemingly corresponding dances from Wright’s collection and the Trondheim manuscript have no similarities whatsoever, neither in melodies nor in dance instructions. It seems that only the fancy titles in English have been borrowed. Another dance has the title La Lapponoise del Hagerup. This dance, or at least its music, was most likely created by one of the Trondheim brothers Eiler Hagerup (1736–​1795) or Christian Frederick Hagerup (1731–​1797). Eiler was the county governor of the northernmost part of Norway during 1768–​1771, while Christian Frederick was a clergyman and missionary among Sami people in the north during 1758–​1769.63 It is unknown whether this country dance, with its exotic stamping and clapping, may have been inspired by encounters with the Sami culture. Two dance titles mention persons who lived in Trondheim at the time  –​ M: Menke’s Reel, and next to this M: Tronvig’s Reel. Henrik Meincke (1746–​ 1827) was one of the most distinguished, trusted, and wealthy merchants in the

112  Eva Hov town. Mogens Tronvig (1741–​1784), on the other hand, was operating on the outskirts of the law and living above his means until he fell bankrupt in 1780.64 Undoubtedly, Tronvig was very happy to appear side by side with Meincke in this dance book. These two dances may have been performed using steps borrowed from the reel. On the other hand, the references to reel may have served to point out that these were ‘men of the world’, who were in the habit of visiting Britain to meet with trading partners. The music book of Ulstad includes examples of yet another kind of inventiveness:  it was not uncommon for a country dance in 2/​4 time to have an added repeat in 3/​8, to which one danced a short waltz. However, in Ulstad’s book we find a country dance ending with a ‘Pols Dans’ instead, which to my knowledge is a quite unique combination. Another country dance begins with two repeats in 3/​8 time labelled ‘Swäbichs’, then continues as a short ‘Marchs’ [sic] and another repeat ‘Engl’ (engelskdans) in 2/​4 time. In the music book of the sailmaker Hveding, there are also four tunes named ‘Sväbichs’. An additional ‘Svabisch’ turns up in a music book written in Trondheim in 1780 by the student Peter Thams Buschmann, and two more ‘Schvabisch’ in a booklet written by ‘Johann Buschma[nn] in Flensburg’ (possibly a brother of Peter’s, who served in the Danish Navy before moving back to Trondheim).65 Yet another two ‘Schwäbsch’ are found in an anonymous music book in the same library.66 All these melodies, which look like short and very simple waltzes in 3/​8 time, are most likely Schwäbisch tunes.The varied spelling suggests that the name (and perhaps also the tunes) may have been written the way people heard it said, rather than copied from writing. This dance, originating in Swabia (Schwaben), was part of a family of traditional couple dances in southern Germany and Austria. These dances, which included elements of turnings under arms and waltzing around in a close embrace, are better known in the forms Ländler and Deutscher or Walzer.67 Early descriptions of the Schwäbisch depict a most cheerful and happy dance, free and improvised, with simple steps, easy to learn by imitating other dancers.68 The dance seems to have spread to Denmark, where melodies are found scattered in at least 15 music books, written across the country from 1765 to 1800.69 The Danish writer Steen Steensen Blicher (1782–​1848) recalls from his young days joining sailors who were dancing in an inn. He comments that the whirling dance of the Swabian peasants had at this time not yet been promoted to a fashion dance of the upper classes, but had just recently come in favour of younger people, who used it for a change towards the end of balls.70 Blicher also describes the Schwäbisch or vals, being danced in a primitive clay hut, with dirt floor, far out on a lonesome moor.71 There is no definite proof that the Schwäbisch was also danced in Trondheim, but the numerous tunes found in local music books, including Ulstad’s country dance with ‘Swäbichs’, strongly suggest that this might indeed have been the case.

Outside canon  113

Figure 6.2 Ihlen. An area by the shore outside the town wall, where farmers, working people, soldiers, and sailors met. Did William Allingham waltz to pols tunes here? From a print of an anonymous watercolour, ca. 1850–​1870. © Photo: Eva Hov.

Anonymous, unstable, and unclassifiable Our ‘street view’ walk around Trondheim, guided by the informal scribblings of generously sharing amateurs, gives us glimpses of a creative and vibrant cultural life in homes around the town. This would have been invisible to us from the ‘bird’s eye view’ of Hornemann, and the image we get may not easily be fitted into the paradigm of canon. Perhaps the most obvious problem regards the anonymous music, which is naturally at odds with the concept of composer and work.72 A  striking example of this concerns Johan Daniel and Johan Henrich Berlin. Some of their works for keyboard survive in various manuscripts. Four of these manuscripts, probably written between 1755 and 1770, contain 160 melodies in total.73 Scattered among the anonymous melodies are about 20 pieces that are attributed to the Berlins. As discussed above, father and son both appear repeatedly in the literature, and have become included in the canon of ‘notable Norwegian composers’. The collected keyboard works of Johan Daniel and Johan Henrich were published in 1977.74 In 2015, a project founded by Norwegian Musical Heritage was initiated to publish carefully revised editions of J. D. Berlin’s works, including different versions of the same pieces.75

114  Eva Hov Most of the music in the Berlin manuscripts, however, is anonymous, which is probably the reason why it has been ignored.76 It consists of a blend of dance music (in particular minuets) and other pieces like arias, allegros, murkies, etc. An aria, one of the pieces which appears twice in the manuscripts, is attributed to ‘Sr. Kirchhoff ’ in one of the books, but is anonymous in the other.77 This shows how easily a piece may lose the connection with its composer, and in the process also misses out on the status of being ‘a composed work’, with the potential of being accepted into a musical canon. On the other hand, an anonymous melody might also gain fame and attachment to the canon by proximity to one of the great masters. An anonymous musette, which also appears twice in the Berlin manuscripts, may be found in a slightly different version in Notenbuch für Wolfgang (1762), educational music collected by Leopold Mozart for his son.78 For this reason, the musette is now known and played around the world. This demonstrates the great impact an association with a musician of notoriety, however slight, might afford to an otherwise anonymous piece. Besides, anonymous music tends to be unstable and changing.This is at odds with the concept of a composed and fixed work of art, where change would mean corruption and destruction. Pieces that appear more than once in the Berlin manuscripts are frequently written down in different versions, which simply illustrates the craftsmanship and creativity that was part of a musician’s everyday life in pre-​canon times. The changes observed in Ulstad’s and Hveding’s music books,Wensell’s song book, and the copies of Motzfeldt’s play are probably the results of sheet music or text being copied through several hands, and perhaps at some stage learnt by ear and written from memory. Such gradual changes resemble processes in oral tradition, where a song or tune may appear in numerous variants or versions. Sometimes a ‘migrating’ tune may be traced over long distances, suggesting connections and influences.79 A musicologist’s concept of a ‘work’ and the concept of a ‘tune’ in traditional music are certainly different. However, the anonymous repertory in music books would not readily be accepted into the core of traditional music either, as this is generally associated with oral traditions among people outside the ‘educated class’. Not quite fitting into any genre, this music falls between two stools and easily disappears through the cracks. According to the definitions in the Norwegian Arts Council’s report on intangible cultural heritage, none of the informal cultural activities in Trondheim, which have been described here, would be considered as belonging to this category.80

Complexity, functionality, and marginalisation Another way of disqualifying the repertory of the Trondheim manuscripts would be to dismiss the music as too plain and insignificant. The canon of Western art music tends to applaud learnt use of polyphony, the sonata form, or advanced harmony, which is seldom found in these manuscripts. In functional

Outside canon  115 dance music, the rhythm and uncomplicated structures, created to fit the dance, are more important. Combining simplicity with perfection, to create a melody which survives numerous repetitions during the dancing of a set, is no easy task. The standards of quality between these two general musical types are simply different. The paradigm of canon more or less presupposes the act of performance to an audience, preferably in a concert hall or on the stage of a theatre. Many of the informal activities took place together with a friend or two, or in solitude, which in itself would define them as insignificant –​merely ‘mediocre Pastime’. Understandably, literature concerning theatre in Trondheim has focused on performances, and does not mention reading, reciting, copying, or writing of plays.81 However, informal activities of this kind may have been very meaningful and important to the persons involved.They could take place much more often than attending a concert or the theatre, and gave people the satisfaction of being an active rather than a passive part of an audience, the freedom of choice, the pleasure of sharing (also by teaching and learning), and sometimes even creating something of their own. The surviving carefully handwritten song and music books, and the many more mentioned in Allingham’s journal, should be sufficient evidence of how much informal activity meant to inhabitants of Trondheim. Knowing more about these domestic activities is particularly important in order to understand more about the situation of women, as they are generally absent from accounts of public life. Although ladies were welcomed as associate members of the dramatic society after 1815, and some of them would perform on stage, they were unable to become members of clubs, or full members of the musical societies.82 In this context, Else Wensell’s song book is invaluable as it speaks volumes about women’s interests and thoughts. For instance, if a man wrote a patriotic song praising the king, to be inserted in the local paper, or if it was to be sung in a club, this might well be done to show off his loyalty to the court in Copenhagen.83 When a great portion of a young woman’s song book consists of unknown, possible local, strongly patriotic songs, this suggests that such feelings were shared by a great part of the population –​at the same time as ‘anti-​war songs’ point to people’s minds being occupied with universal dilemmas. Even William Allingham’s short accounts of Sarah Marie Johannsen’s neglected musical education, and her feeble attempt of figuring out how to play Chit Chat, become meaningful, as they contradict the stereotype that ‘all young women were taught music’.84 In fact, even women from the most prominent families might become virtually invisible in the official narrative of history. Elisabeth Schøller (1744–​ 1763) was the only child to the most famous woman in Trondheim in her time, Cecilie von Schøller, and married one of the country’s most influential men, Colonel (later General) Georg Frederik von Krogh. Still, except for the fact that Elisabeth died after giving birth to her second child, at 19  years of age, little is known about her. However, as one of the Berlin music manuscripts once belonged to Elisabeth, it is possible to see which music she liked to play.

116  Eva Hov There are also signs of her having been an accomplished musician.85 Compared to the other Berlin manuscripts, Elisabeth’s book contains more pieces with intricate hand crossings and other keyboard idiomatic figurations.There are also polonaises with sudden outbursts of 48th-notes(!) flying all over the keyboard, and several dark and engrossing ‘murkij’ (murkies). Although this precious link to Elisabeth may be our only clue to some understanding of her life, it seems that the only parts of her music book, which have attracted any general attention, are a sonatina and three minuets, which happen to have ‘del J.  D. Berlin’ written as parts of their titles.

A dancing master’s perspective: Possible bias The canon paradigm favours focus on professionalism and artistic excellence. Around 1800, dancing masters were generally performers as well as teachers, which has made them the natural starting point for studies of social dancing.86 Advertisements in a Trondheim paper show what dancing masters did offer. Peder Hassell from Copenhagen, who lived in Trondheim for a period in 1799, would teach minuet, engelskdans ‘in the newest fashion’, French quadrilles with ‘theatrical steps’, and ‘Solo’.87 In March 1803, Johan Peter Strömberg turned up from Stockholm and announced that he would teach minuet, quadrille, ‘Langue-​Dands’, and how to perform all kinds of ‘croisé’ and ‘pas des battement’, but by December he apparently tried to adjust to the wishes of potential clients, and offered, ‘for a discounted fee’, to teach children minuet, engelskdans, quadrilles, Le nouvelle Allemand’, Scottish dances, and waltz.88 The lessons would be two hours daily during the week, with three hours each Saturday devoted to ‘Conversation, Pliering [plié] og Complimenter’, in other words etiquette and ballet exercises. It is unknown whether Strömberg’s ambitious plan was ever put into action.89 The images of serious and dedicated dancing masters, teaching children refined movements and etiquette, seem to collide with Allingham’s accounts of his dancing experiences, Ulstad’s experimental country dances, and the quirky dance book from the 1770s. Dance was undergoing a democratisation process, as the minuet, with its focus on rank and display of hard-​earned dancing skills, gave way for the merry and sociable country dance, which in time found itself outdone by the independent freedom that couples experienced in whirling waltzes and other couple dances. New longways country dances were often not too complicated to learn, through observation and imitation.90 Two or three couples in one end of the row began dancing, while the others were watching, and then joining in the dancing in turn. Standard figures would reappear in new combinations for each dance, and the ability to pick up a new, unknown dance quickly might have been admired. It would be possible for educated dancers to show off with graceful movements and advanced footwork, at the same time as beginners were using simpler steps, provided all moved into the right positions at the right time. Independently waltzing couples were also able to share a dance floor, even

Outside canon  117 if some were well instructed and others were self-​taught or had learnt from friends. A dancing master would be eager to preserve a market for his services by holding on to the time-​consuming teaching of the outdated minuet, and by pointing out his own superior knowledge and the necessity of extensive education of all respectable youngsters under his supervision. The idealised view of this serious undertaking, as reflected in advertisements and manuals, possibly represents wishful thinking. At this point in time, interacting, using ‘the Language of the Eyes’, and simply having fun, may have become equally, or even more important to sociable dancers in Trondheim. Furthermore, the dancing masters’ focus on etiquette and formality reinforces the image of a sharp cultural and social divide between polite dancing in the ‘educated circles’ and, on the other hand, the dancing of less wealthy people, who might either be content with their own traditional dances or aspire to the status of the educated class by imitating its new, fashionable dances. This paradigm naturally has had an impact not only on what people thought worth mentioning if they wrote about dance, but also on what researchers have been looking for –​and found –​or not. The Trondheim source material suggests that the cultural divides may not have been as sharp as one might suppose. The traditional dance pols was the main social dance of the farmers in the countryside, and most likely among working people in town. Possibly Allingham was not the only educated person in Trondheim who enjoyed dancing pols –​and he would have been seen waltzing among the pols dancing couples. The British travel writer Samuel Laing, who lived in the small town of Levanger (100 km northeast of Trondheim) in 1834, also made an interesting observation:  during parties held by the 30 families who formed ‘the upper class’, youngsters were mixing waltz, gallopade (a new and fashionable dance at the time) and pols.91 The servants had ‘their full share in these festivities’, and skilfully performed the same dances. Ulstad, who may have acted as a dance musician in the rough area of Bakklandet, seems to have shifted freely between country dances, waltz, pols and Schwäbisch, which means that local dancers might well have been familiar with all these dances. It is an interesting point that Ulstad and the sailmaker Hveding both have Schwäbisch melodies in their music books, while Wille, who spent his days at the bishop’s office, had neither pols nor Schwäbisch in his, but instead the longest, and musically most elaborate, waltz melodies. This may or may not be a coincidence. The Schwäbisch represents a mystery in itself.There are indications that it had a low status, which means people may not have thought it worth mentioning (with the exception of Blicher), and researchers might not have thought of looking for it –​with the exception of Hakon Grüner-​Nielsen, who in his book on Danish ‘traditional waltz’ from 1920 quotes Blicher, and mentions music books with Schwäbisch melodies.92 There has been a consensus among Nordic dance researchers that the waltz spread through dancing masters from Germany to Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, first as a motif in country dances (around

118  Eva Hov 1780), and later used as an independent dance (around 1800).93 Schwäbisch is not mentioned, except for a quotation from one Danish dancing master, who in 1830 complained that the old proper social dances had lately been substituted for ‘awful tumbling and whirling around in various speed, under the names of Schwaber-​,Viennese-​, Tyroler-​, Hopsa-​, Russian-​ and Pirre-​waltz’.94 The existence of Schwäbisch melodies in Trondheim suggests that the dance may also have found its way to this town, without the help of dancing masters. Possibly, it enjoyed a short-​lived popularity here before being overtaken by, or merging into, the waltz.

Conclusion Books and manuscripts were circulated in informal sharing networks, read, played from, copied from, and added into new books or manuscripts, which might also be exchanged as gifts between friends, within the town, or across the seas.There might have been no need to write down the most popular songs and tunes, the ones which one knew by heart and which were constantly part of the soundscape. With this in mind, though, music and song books give colourful images of the shifting fashions, and of what were the personal favourites in some Trondheim homes. In fact, this repertory seems quite different from what may be read in concert programmes. Some people were also creative, and produced new music, poems, plays –​perhaps even dances. As we have seen, some people spent far more time enjoying music and drama (reading and reciting) at home than at public performances. These daily activities formed the basis of all cultural practices, and may well have had a stronger impact on people’s lives than the occasional concert or theatre performance they might have attended. The creative writing, as well as choices of song lyrics, shows what subjects and themes were occupying people’s minds at various times. In these personal books, there was no need for censure, as people could write straight from their hearts. This is naturally of great local historical interest, but also gives valuable insights into the fabrics of people’s lives. The manuscripts may supply us with vivid contextual images, which help us to understand and identify with the persons involved, or with other contemporary persons. Not least do some manuscripts provide invaluable connections to women’s lives. They are for a great part invisible in the canonical accounts of cultural history, which makes the music book of Elisabeth Schøller, the song book of Else Wensell, and the diary entries about Sarah Marie Johannsen all the more precious. The research of this archive material has opened to us a singularly colourful treasure trove of anonymous music and dance instructions, local poems and plays.This material may serve to balance pictures built on common assumptions or preconceptions. Apparently, not all women of the educated class were taught music, dancing masters may not have been indispensable, and the social and cultural divides between classes may have been less rigid than what is generally believed.

Outside canon  119 Ultimately, relevance is in the eye of the beholder. Seen from a research perspective that rejects the limitations of the ‘canonical viewpoint’, further studies into these kinds of historical sources seem crucial for a complete understanding of the past. Such examinations may help to fill in blank spaces, present a more complete and balanced image, and thus have a great impact on our view of cultural history.

Notes 1 Spellings of the name have varied. During the nineteenth century, ‘Trondhiem’ and ‘Trondhjem’ were the most common. In this chapter, today’s official name Trondheim is used. Trondheim was an important administrative and trading centre, with extensive export and import. The population of about 9,000 (in 1801)  consisted of a small educated elite of officials, officers, and merchants, mainly Danish in origin, mixed with local tradesmen, artisans, and working people. 2 ‘Musiqve er den for Sindet meest opmuntrende Fornøyelse, især naar den bliver indrettet efter Tilhørernes Smag, hvortil hører forskiellige slags af Musiqve, da den som meget behager en, ofte mindre, eller slet ikke behager en Anden.’ ‘Det Musikalske Selskab’, Privatarkiv 86, NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket. All translations by this author unless otherwise indicated. 3 ‘ledet og sysselsat efter et bestemt og Kunsten værdig Princip, kunde anvendes til en sand Nytte, [og] sand Opbyggelse … Skal den [Musiken] nedsynke til en blot Tidsfordriv, kummerligen slæbe sig frem imellem Vauxhaller, Fyrværkerier, Punsch og alskens Gjøglerier; Skal den milde, velgjørende Flamme, som hine store Mestere, hvis Navne en skjønsom Efterslægt har paatrykket Udødelighedens Stempel, tændte, udslukkes.’ Written in the minutes book by customs officer Aage Claudius Schult (1790–​1868), an influential amateur musician. Quoted in Thaulow, ‘Kort Beretning’, 87, NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket. 4 ‘Canon’ is in the following used in a broad meaning, not only referring to ‘chosen works by great masters’, but also to a framework of values, authority, and other aspects of its functions and definition power. Weber, ‘The History of Musical Canon’, 336, 338–​41, 349–​55. 5 Thaulow, ‘Kort Beretning’, NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket. 6 Huitfeldt, Christiania Theaterhistorie. Huitfeldt changed his name to Huitfeldt-​Kaas in 1881. 7 Hornemann, [Udkast], Statsarkivet i Trondheim. The same year, a series of articles on the music history of Trondheim was published in nine instalments from 22 June to 20 August 1879 in Throndhjems borgerlige Realskoles Adressecontoirs-​Efterretninger. These articles, which were signed ‘H’, have also been attributed to Hornemann. See also Halvorsen, ‘Hornemann, Johan Leberecht’. 8 For a concise overview, see Skagen, ‘Å spille en rolle’. 9 Øisang, Teater i Trondheim; Berg, Tidlig teater i Trondheim. 10 Jensson, Teaterliv i Trondhjem. 11 Skagen, ‘Fra grevens gård’. 12 Huldt-​Nystrøm, ‘Fra musikklivet i Trondheim’. 13 Berg, ‘Militærmusikk i Norge’. 14 Hernes, Ole Andreas Lindeman og hans tid. 15 Michelsen, ‘Johan Daniel Berlin’; Michelsen, Johan Daniel Berlin 1714–​1787.

120  Eva Hov 16 Dahlback, Rokokkomusikk i trøndersk miljø. 17 Sivertsen, Det Trondhjemske Musikalske Selskab; Johansen, Det musikalske Øvelsesselskab. 18 Dalaker, ‘Musikklivet i Trondhjem’. 19 Hernes, Impuls og tradisjon. 20 Aksdal, Fra birfedlere til spelmannslag, 13–​ 16; Gorset, ‘Fornøyelig Tiids-​fordriv’, 152–​8, 199–​200. 21 Rasmussen, ‘Musikk i Trondheim’. 22 Allingham, ‘Tronhiem i Norge’, NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket. 23 Knudtzon, ‘Knudtzon i Trondhjem’. Several members of this family became friends with Adam Oehlenschläger in 1808, and Broder and Jørgen were friends of Lord Byron. 24 Allingham’s comments on this Singspiel are quoted in Skagen, ‘Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar’, 214. 25 Allingham, ‘Tronhiem i Norge’, NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket, 219–​ 220. Hans Hagerup Luytkis (1768–​1824) was a local teacher of mathematics. Kjærlighed uden Strømper was a parodic comedy written by Johan Herman Wessel in 1772, with music by Paolo Scalabrini. This Singspiel made fun of the conventional French tragedy. 26 ‘Det har ikke været trykt, men cirkulerede i mangfoldige Afskrifter og gjorde megen Lykke. … de fleste kjendte det og endogsaa kunde udenad længre Stykker, som ved givne Leiligheder citeredes.’ Hornemann, [Udkast], 49:4, Statsarkivet i Trondheim. Hornemann’s manuscript is written on folio pages, with each page number referring to four actual sheets of paper. I refer to folio and page, respectively, like this: 1:1, 1:2, 1:3. 27 Ibid., 49:4–​50:1. 28 Four fragments of the play exist in the National Library in Oslo (Ms 4o 796); another one in the Regional State Archives, Trondheim (Privatarkiv SAT/​PA-​ 0037 –​Christophersen, Jens). The full play is in the National Archives of Norway, Oslo (Privatarkiv RA/​PA-​0095 –​ Klüwer, Lorentz Diderich). 29 Hov, ‘Odel og Elskov –​ Innsiderapport’. 30 ‘Det Runde Bords’ protokoll. Minutes. Klüwer, Lorentz Diderich  –​Privatarkiv 095, RA/​PA-​0095/​F/​L0001/​0003, Riksarkivet.The book of Det Runde Bord also contains the history of the society. 31 Allingham, ‘Tronhiem i Norge’, NTNU, Universitetsbiblioteket, 206. Pols, a traditional couple dance, was generally called Polskdans at this time. 32 Ibid., 118. 33 Ibid., 174. 34 Ibid., 79. The lyrics of these songs were written in dialect in the 1770s by Edvard Storm (1749–​1794), a Norwegian student in Copenhagen. By the time they were first published in 1802, the songs had already spread around the country, and become so established that they were even considered to be ‘folk songs’. Hallager, Norsk Ordsamling, 158, 179. 35 Allingham, ‘Tronhiem i Norge’, NTNU, Universitetsbiblioteket, 167. 36 Boer jeg paa det høie Field was a very popular patriotic song with lyrics by Johan Nordahl Brun (1745–​1816). All quotations in this section are from Allingham, ‘Tronhiem i Norge’. NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket, 174–5. 37 Wensell, ‘Vise-​Bog 1812’, Statsarkivet i Trondheim. 38 See also Skagen, ‘Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar’ and Selvik, ‘Forgotten music’.

Outside canon  121 39 This Singspiel was written to celebrate the Danish king’s decision to ban all slave trade in the near future. 40 This is a direct translation of the 1793 Danish original. The terms ‘Neger’ and ‘Negro’ are considered racist, offensive and outdated. 41 The Italian poet and scholar Francesco Petrarca (1304–​1374) was passionately in love with a woman named Laura. 42 These lyrics probably refer to Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s novel Die Leiden des jungen Werthers (1774). 43 ‘Skulde vor Naboe med troløse Britter [sic] … Stænge med List Eders Moder bag Gitter’, Wensell, ‘Vise-​Bog 1812’, Statsarkivet i Trondheim, 51. 44 ‘Gud! Hvor er jeg? Væsen i det Høie’. Frankenau, ‘Valpladsen’, 189. 45 Notebok ‘Tilhører Johan Andreas Hveding’, Hveding, Johan Andreas, Håndskrifter, Rikard Berges samlinger, Telemark Museum. 46 Kunzen, Viser og Lyriske Sange. Many are written in the same sequence as in Kunzen’s book. 47 These two versions are in 3/​4 time, the ones in the chorale books in 4/​4 time. Schøller:  [Regnskapsbok for sagbruk], Statsarkivet i Trondheim]. See also Hov, ‘Glömda kvinnoliv’, 127–​8. One of the Trondheim organists, Johan Chr. Schreiber, complained in 1788 about the irregular hymn singing in the town, and arranged a course to teach people the correct melodies. It is possible that the hymns in Hveding’s book show traces of a local singing tradition at the time. Trondhjems allene Kongelige privilegerede Adresse-​Contoirs Ugentlig Udgivende Efterretninger, 15, 11 April 1788; Sivertsen, Det Trondhjemske Musikalske Selskab, 76. 48 Ulstad, ‘Node Bog for Johan Gjert Ulstad’, NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket; Ulstad ‘Tilhører mig Johan Gjert Ulstad’, Statsarkivet i Trondheim. 49 Jacobsen, Samling af de nyeste engelske Danse, no. 24, 26, 28, 55–​56, 64. 50 Hornemann, [Udkast], Statsarkivet i Trondheim, 27:1. 51 Wille, ‘Node Bog’, Statsarkivet i Trondheim; Rasmussen, ‘Musikk i Trondheim’, 18–​22, 33–​60,  119. 52 Aksdal, Fra birfedlere til spelmannslag, mentions music books imprinted 1785 and 1794, containing waltzes. However, more recent studies have shown that they appear mixed with a repertory clearly dating to the 1800s. 53 Selvik, ‘Forgotten music’, 236. 54 Mann and his wife Kirsten, both listed as ‘musicians’ in the census of 1801, struggled to support themselves. Hernes, Impuls og tradisjon, 203, 299; Rasmussen, ‘Musikk i Trondheim’,  50–​51. 55 Allingham, ‘Tronhiem i Norge’, NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket, 14. Anne Marie Wille (1789–​1856) was a sister of Hans Jørgen Wille. Magdalene Schnitler (1789–​ 1870) was a cousin of Else Wensell. 56 Ibid., 118–​19. Originally, all longways country dances were called engelskdans, but at this time some people had begun to distinguish between hopser or feiar, in 2/​4 time, and engelskdans, in 3/​4 time. 57 Urup, Sjöberg, and Bakka, Gammaldans i Norden, 41–​42, 54–​55, 58–​59, 272–​4. 58 Jørgen Knudtzon was shipwrecked in the Atlantic in 1806, but a ship bound for Jamaica rescued him. On board he met Alexander Baillie (1777–​1835), who came with Jørgen to visit Trondheim. Alexander and Jørgen formed a lifelong partnership. Knudtzon, ‘Knudtzon i Trondhjem’, 36–​40.

122  Eva Hov 59 Allingham, ‘Tronhiem i Norge’, NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket, 209. In present-​ day tradition, a kast (cast) often means a high sideways kick where you slap your foot. 60 Ibid., 119. 61 Dansebok: dansemelodier og beskrivelse av danser, NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket. See also Hov, ‘Et dykk i arkivet’. 62 Wright, Wright’s Compleat Collection. 63 Huitfeldt-​Kaas, ‘Hagerup, Eiler’; Thrap, ‘Hagerup, Christian Frederick’. 64 [Tronvig’s bankruptcy, legal administration], Statsarkivet i Trondheim. See also Hov, ‘Et dykk i arkivet’, 8. 65 Buschmann, Handwritten music book, Nasjonalbiblioteket; Buschmann, ‘Noden-​ Bog’, NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket. The spelling suggests this was written by a Norwegian. 66 Notebook. Manuscript, NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket. 67 Various aspects of the complex history of early waltz, and its antecedents, are discussed in Nussbaumer and Gratl, Zur Frühgeschichte des Walzers. 68 Feldtenstein, Erweiterung der Kunst nach der Chorographie, 99–​101, 105. 69 Information from Jens Henrik Koudal, Dansk Folkemindesamling, the Royal Library, Copenhagen. 70 ‘de schwabiske Bønders Wirbeltanz var dengang endnu ikke forfremmet til de højere Klassers Modedans, men havde først nylig vundet Yndest hos yngre Folk, der brugte den som Afveksling hen mod Ballets Ende.’ From the short story ‘Firkløveret’ in Blicher, Samlede noveller og skitser, 168. 71 From the short story ‘Kjeltringliv’ in Blicher, Udvalgte Noveller, 416–​17. 72 Randel, ‘The Canons in the Musicological Toolbox’, 12–​13. 73 The manuscripts are bound together with four different copies of an instruction book written by Johan Daniel Berlin, Musicaliske Elementer (1744). They are kept in the National Library, Oslo, the NTNU University Library, Trondheim, and Norrköping City Library. 74 Kortsen, The collected works of Johan Daniel Berlin; Kortsen, The collected works of Johan Henrich Berlin. 75 Berlin, Klaververk  –​Works for Keyboard. There are also plans of a new edition of the works of Johan Henrich Berlin, accessed 12 June 2020, www.musikkarven.no/​ komponister/​berlin/​index.html. 76 With the exception of Dahlback and Gorset, who both mention a few of the anonymous melodies. 77 Probably composed by the German organist Gottfried Kirchhoff (1685–​1746). 78 Mozart, Leopold Mozart’s Notenbuch. 79 For instance, William brought his favourite music from Trondheim back to Ireland, and kept on playing it, so that his younger sister Mary Ann Allingham learnt melodies by heart. In the 1830s, Mary Ann wrote 60 songs using tunes she knew, including seven ‘Norse Airs’. She in turn sent her song books from Ireland to her nephew Thoning Owesen in Trondheim. Allingham, ‘Friendshipsgift 1–​6’, NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket. 80 Strøm, Immateriell kulturarv i Norge; Hov, ‘Snørliv-​Helter og troløse Britter’, 145–​6. 81 Except perhaps for Annabella Skagen, who refers to Allingham’s diary showing there was an active circulation of dramatic writings of various kinds. Skagen, ‘Fra grevens gård’, 311. Odel og Elskov was referred to by Jensson, but only due to a controversy following its performance in 1823. Jensson, Teaterliv i Trondhjem, 95.

Outside canon  123 82 Skagen, ‘Å spille en rolle’, 229–​30, 245. Still, the artistic participation of women may have had a great impact on social life in the highest circles of Trondheim. Skagen, ‘Fra grevens gård’, 187–​8, 203. Until 1831, women were generally excluded from the musical societies in order to ‘avoid distraction’, but occasionally some were allowed to sing or play the piano as ‘guest artists’ at a concert. Hornemann, [Udkast], Statsarkivet i Trondheim 59:1. 83 Of political and social songs used in clubs, see Rasmussen, ‘Musikk i Trondheim’, 105–​13. 84 William’s younger sister Mary Ann, who was an eager singer and songwriter, was never taught music, and had to partly invent a system of writing music herself. Allingham, ‘Friendshipsgift 1–​ 6’, NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket; Hov, ‘Glömda kvinnoliv’, 144–​5. 85 One of the mentioned copies of J.  D. Berlin’s Musicaliske Elementer in Nasjonalbiblioteket, with an appendix of sheet music, has ‘Elisabeth Schøller’ embossed into the leather on the cover. Hov, ‘Glömda kvinnoliv’, 132–​9. 86 Concerning the life and work of dancing masters in Christiania and Bergen, see Fiskvik, ‘Information udi Dands’, and Svarstad, “Aqquratesse i alt af Dands”. 87 Trondhiemske Tidender 10, 8 March 1799. 88 Trondhiems borgerlige Skoles allene privilegerede Adressecontoirs Efterretninger 23, 22 March 1803; ibid., 104, 30 December 1803. 89 Strömberg also worked as a theatre instructor and arranged balls, but by the time he moved from Trondheim, in November 1804, he was in debt. Jensson, Teaterliv i Trondhjem,  40–​48. 90 Svarstad, “Aqquratesse i alt af Dands”, 206–​7, 232–​3, 242. 91 Laing, Journal of a Residence in Norway, 172–​3, 177. 92 Grüner-​Nielsen, Folkelig vals,  12–​13. 93 Urup, Sjöberg, and Bakka, Gammaldans i Norden, 41–​42, 54–​55, 58–​59, 272–​4. 94 ‘Rundtsnurren i forskjelige Tempoer kom i stedet. Under navn af Schwaber-​, Wiener-​, Tyroler-​, Hopsa-​, Russisk-​, Ungersk og Pirre-​Vals, tumlede og snurrede man sig saa frygteligen’. Ibid., 42.

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126  Eva Hov

Archival sources Nasjonalbiblioteket (National Library of Norway) Berlin, Johan Daniel. Musicaliske Elementer eller Anleedning til Forstand paa de første Ting udi Musiquen hvor udi den musicaliske Signatur saa ogsaa Applicaturen kort og tydeligen anført. Trondheim (Trondhiem), 1744. Mus. ms. 1438. Bound together with two handwritten musical appendixes. ‘Elisabeth Schøller’ embossed on the cover. Buschmann, Peter Thams. [Notebok]. Handwritten music book. Mus. ms. 8359. ‘Odel og Elskov’. Four fragments of manuscripts. Ms 4o 796.

NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket (NTNU University Library) [Allingham, Mary Ann.] ‘Friendshipsgift 1–​6’. Six handwritten song books with sheet music. Part of ‘Sangbøker og poesibøker’ (9 items). Leira gård. UBIT/​A-​0021/​F/​ L0012/​0001–​0006. Gunnerus Library. Allingham, William. ‘Tronhiem i Norge’. Manuscript. 1807. XA Qv. 1023. Gunnerus Library. Buschmann, Johann. ‘Noden-​Bog for Johann Buschmann in Flensburg:  3 October’. Handwritten music book. XM 205. Gunnerus Library. Dansebok: dansemelodier og beskrivelse av danser (Dance book: Dance melodies and dance descriptions). Manuscript, 1771. XA Oct. 101. Gunnerus Library. ‘Det Musikalske Selskab af 1786. Forhandlingsprotokoll 1786–​ 1787’. Minutes. Privatarkiv 86. Det Trondhjemske musikalske Selskab av 1786. UBIT/​A-​0086/​F/​ L0001. Gunnerus Library. Notebook. Manuscript. Ca. 1750–​1780? XM 188. Gunnerus Library. Thaulow, Christian.‘Kort Beretning om musikalske Forholde i Trondhjem fra Slutningen af forrige Aarhundrede indtil vore Dage’. 1874. Manuscript. XA Oct. 942. Gunnerus Library. Ulstad, Johan Gjert. ‘Node Bog for Johan Gjert Ulstad, 1799’. Handwritten music score. XM 239. Gunnerus Library.

Riksarkivet (The National Archives of Norway) Klüwer, Lorentz Diderich –​Privatarkiv RA/​PA-​0095.

Statsarkivet i Trondheim (The Regional State Archives inTrondheim) Hornemann, Johan Lebrecht. [Udkast til en Trondhjems Theater-​og Musikhistorie]. Manuscript. Hornemann, Johan –​Privatarkiv SAT/​PA-​0175. ‘Odel og Elskov’. Tragedie i én akt. Manuscript. Privatarkiv 37 Christophersen, Jens. SAT/​PA-​0037/​D/​L0006/​0004. Schøller. ‘Regnskapsbok (book of account) for sagbruks-​og godseier i Hegra, 1803–​ 1805’. SAT/​PE-​0024 Schøller. Book belonging to Ellen and Birgitte Schøller, containing music in German organ tablature, recipes, and later added accounts from saw mills. [Tronvig’s bankruptcy, legal administration]. Skifteprotokoll (probate records), Trondheim Byfogd-​og skriver 3A 0023.

Outside canon  127 Ulstad, Johan Gjert. ‘Tilhører mig Johan Gjert Ulstad:  1799 til 1818’. Handwritten music book. Uncatalogued. Wensell, Else. ‘Vise-​Bog 1812’. Handwritten songbook. SAT/​PL-​0454 Wensell. Wille, Hans Jørgen. ‘Node Bog for Hans Jørgen Wille begyndt den 4de Juli 1801’. Handwritten music book. Uncatalogued.

Telemark Museum Hveding, Johan Andreas. Håndskrifter (handwritten manuscripts) collected by Johan Andreas Hveding. TEMU/​ TGM-​ A-​ 1003/​ Xa. Rikard Berge samlinger (Rikard Berge Collections).

Published music Berlin, Johan Daniel. Complete works, vol. 3, Klaververk, edited by Halvor K. Hosar and Bjarte Engeset. Oslo: Norsk Musikkforlag (forthcoming). Kortsen, Bjarne, ed. The collected works of Johan Daniel Berlin. Bergen: Edition Norvegica [1977]. –––,​ ed. The collected works of Johan Henrich Berlin. Bergen: Edition Norvegica [1977]. Kunzen, Frederik Ludevig Æmilius. Viser og lyriske Sange satte i Musik. Copenhagen (Kiöbenhavn): Stein, 1786. Mozart, Leopold. Leopold Mozart’s Notenbuch: seinem Sohne Wolfgang Amadeus zu dessen siebenten Namenstag (1762) geschenkt, edited by Hermann Abert. Leipzig:  Siegel Verlag, 1922.

7  A private playlist? Repertory in Norwegian eighteenth-​century musical clocks Mats Krouthén

Introduction In eighteenth-​century Europe, clocks used in bourgeois and aristocratic homes sometimes were equipped with an automatic musical instrument, a musical clock. Every hour, or at regular intervals, various melodies could be heard in dining rooms, salons, etc. The choice of repertory in the clocks reflects the importance of music cultures of the time. Shedding light on this repertory would contribute to the soundscape of eighteenth-​century wealthy homes –​ melodies that, in some families, were heard hour after hour, day after day. Since the music was performed without any musician present, might this phenomenon be referred to as a private playlist? It seems that the repertory on the musical clock types often falls between two disciplines of research. Horologists have traditionally focused on the clockwork, its mechanics and aesthetics, while the musicological focus has been mainly on just one type of musical clock, the organ clock (see below), with its sophisticated mechanical system, its classical repertory, and ability to express musical nuances. Research has shown how this type of instrument could serve as a source for historically informed performance practice.1 In the English and German standard music dictionaries, the articles about musical clocks mostly concern a repertory where the music was written specially, or idiomatically, for one special kind of musical clock, the organ clock.The samples are taken from well-​known composers, such as Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, Joseph Haydn, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Ludwig van Beethoven, and others.2 The authors of the dictionary articles can be seen as agents in the formation of a musical canon. This repertory is part of a Central European canon of classical music composers. Repertory in other musical clock types, like the carillon clock (see below), is only briefly mentioned at a very general level in the dictionaries in terms of various genres. In the English standard dictionary, The New Grove Dictionary of Musical Instruments, Alexandr Buchner defines a musical clock as a ‘clock combined with a mechanical instrument which plays music at regular time-​intervals’ [or at will].3 Arthur W. J. G. Ord-​Hume demands in addition that the musical clock should be equipped with the ability to change melodies as opposed to clocks that

A private playlist?  129 repetitively play the same alarm or chime –​the latter named a chiming clock.4 Furthermore, he favours the organ clock from a reception perspective, arguing that this type is more ‘musical’ than a carillon clock, which ‘even experienced musicologists have been known to express a surprising inability to “hear” a tune when listening to [it]’.5 Since the 1990s, some scholars have contributed with works that indirectly deconstruct the musical canon mentioned above. Ord-​Hume has outlined a comprehensive perspective on various models of musical clocks, including a chapter on some of the repertory in Great Britain, Ireland, the Netherlands, France/​ Switzerland, Germany/​ Austria, the United States of America, and, briefly,​Scandinavia. Contrary to the dictionaries, his perspective is mainly informed by popularity –​what music was really played on the musical clocks, not only what was written idiomatically for the clocks. By putting forward reasons as to why the melodies were chosen (customers’ demands, international markets, etc.), he shifts the focus from a musical structure to socio-​economic reasons to make the music relevant. In the chapter named ‘Scandinavia’, however, only two Swedish Stockholm clockmakers are analysed. Nothing is mentioned about the circumstances in Norway.6 Johan Norrback has recently listed the most frequent music on one clock by the Swedish organ clockmaker, Pehr Strand (ca. 1758–​1826). There, titles by Joseph Haydn (1732–​1809) and Ignaz Pleyel (1757–​1831) dominate.7 In this case, the repertory of these clocks reflects both its predominant position of popularity and being part of a canon of classical music. Furthermore, Marieke Lefeber-​Morsman’s new study of Dutch carillon clocks, Zet hem op een ton, concerns the extant repertory of musical clocks in one country, also from a perspective of appearance, both (re-​)creating a top list of extant melodies and putting the repertory into a broader historical-​sociological context.8 My overall aim in this chapter will be to expand the geographical scene, and the functions of the musical clock, in order to show the relevance of the phenomenon also in a Norwegian context. What proliferation did the instrument have in Norway? What type of repertory is central in Norway? How could this be explained from a sociocultural perspective? I will investigate the Norwegian musical clock tradition and its repertory, firstly, by outlining the musical clock tradition in the country. Secondly, I  will use one Norwegian musical clockmaker from the late eighteenth century as a nexus to discuss the Norwegian contemporary clock repertory by identifying and analysing the titles on some of his clocks. Finally, I will discuss some possible explanations for this repertory from a cultural-​historical perspective. The results will contribute to a better understanding of the repertory of the international musical clock tradition by broadening the perspective with new genres and functions of music. This might challenge what can be seen as the international canonised musical clock tradition mentioned above:  idiomatic clock music, primarily for the organ clock, produced in some certain centres as in London, Berlin, etc.

130  Mats Krouthén In the eighteenth century, there were also other types of mechanical instruments in Europe. But the distribution of such instruments took only off in Norway in the early 1800s, as is the case with the barrel organ, the cylinder musical box invented in 1796, and intricate self-​operating machines in the shape of an animal or puppet (called automatas).9 Another demarcation for the study will be automaton clocks with moving figures, astronomical clocks and clocks with dials showing the moon phases. Finally, my definition of ‘musical clock’ also includes any one-​melody​or chiming clock.

Models and technology Common for all technological versions of the musical clock from the seventeenth, eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries is the use of a pinned and revolving barrel where the music is programmed. The melodies then are performed via a mechanical device on a graduated set of bells/​carillons, organ pipes, strings, or, more seldom, a combination of the three. In 1794, Peter Sprengels described the clockmaking craft, classifying the musical clock (German: Spieluhr) into three parts: the dulcimer clock, the organ clock, and the carillon clock (German:  Harfenuhr, Flötenuhr, and Glockenspiel).10 During the nineteenth century, musical clocks were developed using metal wire gongs, reeds, or combs, either governed by a barrel or, later also a disc, as a sound source. In the following, I  will use the contemporary classification used by Sprengels. The English corresponding terms (‘dulcimer’, ‘organ’, and ‘carillon’) are taken from Ord-​Hume’s The Musical Clock (1995). The musical instrument part on a clock consists of a sounding part (pipes, bells, or strings), a mechanical system (keys, levers, etc.) transmitting the information of what tones are to be played from the programmed pinned barrel, and an energy supply system (train, weight/​plumb). The organ clock, in addition, has a wind supply system (bellows, wind chest, and pipe lines) also governed by the weight. One turn of the barrel normally gives one melody. Most often, the barrel could slide sideways either automatically or by hand, thus shifting melodies. A more refined version of the organ clock is equipped with a spirally notated or ‘helicoidally notated’11 barrel, which produces a longer melody, consisting of six to eight turns. The carillon and dulcimer clock barrel always contain simple pins. The length of a tone is determined indirectly by the distance in time to the next sound-​generating pin. The dynamics are more or less constant and the reverberation is relatively long. An organ clock also has beams to create longer notes of varying, clearly defined, lengths. There are numerous methods to programme the music onto the barrel. However, a discussion of this topic lies beyond the aim of this chapter.

The Norwegian musical clock: An overview The Norwegian literature on clockmaking is vast. However, the musical clock aspect is mostly mentioned indirectly and briefly in terms of ‘a clock with

A private playlist?  131 carillon’ (‘et gulvur med klokkespill’), ‘that played hymns’ (‘som spilte salmer’), etc. Olav Ingstad’s Urmakerkunst i Norge (1980) offers a general history of Norwegian clockmaking. However, he did not examine the phenomenon ‘musical clock’ extensively or systematically. Ingstad was a city engineer and amateur horologist. Between 1915 and 1958, he collected sources on clockmaking in Norway, later published by his son, Kaare Ingstad (but in Olav Ingstad’s name).This work might be criticised for not specifying all sources for each maker or locations of the objects, also for lacking details on mechanical details and functions. The long time span in the succession of information from father to son transmitted over many decades would affect the content. On the other hand, using this book as a secondary source, some patterns can be seen. Other basic clockmaker sources (of which the Ingstads richly refer to) are Anton Christian Bang’s work on early Norwegian clockmakers, Fortegnelse over ældre norske urmagere, især bondeurmagere (Inventory of early Norwegian clockmakers, particularly farmer clockmakers), from 1910 and Johan Knap’s two works on the longcase clock and time, Det gamle stueur (The old longcase clock, 1964) and Stueuret og tiden (Time and the longcase clock, 1971).12 In addition to Ingstad’s clockmaking history, a few monographs have been written: Arno Berg on Peder Nøttestad (1941), Sigurd Engelstad on Ellef Ellingsen Blachestad, (1958) and Hans Grønli on Børre H. Langland (1981).13 There are also some compilations on regional clockmaking mentioning musical clocks, such as in the Toten region by Kristian Tollersrud (1952) and Herman Aune’s article on clockmakers in the Trøndelag region (1949).14 The common mechanical clock would have entered the private houses in Norway during the late sixteenth century at the latest.15 Previously, hour glasses and sundials were used in the private sphere to keep track of time. Mechanical clocks were, at that time, administrated by officials: the royal family, the church, the military, and the city’s night watchmen. During the seventeenth century, various brackets, lanterns, and longcase clocks were imported to Norway. From the middle of the eighteenth century, a clockmaker was soon established in nearly every rural district. The musical clock was never common, though. It was a status symbol and a novelty.16 Some of them were imported, mainly from London. However, in his book on Norwegian clockmaking, Ingstad mentions some 40 makers of musical clocks. They were active between 1734 and 1936 (mainly between 1750 and 1830), from Halden and possibly Kristiansand in the south to Trondheim in the north (see Table 7.1).17 The period coincides (with a delayed start of approximately one generation) with the so-​called Golden Years for musical clocks (1720–​1820).18 Christiania and surroundings, southern Trøndelag, Toten and Hedmark seem to have been the four main regions for domestic production of the musical clock. Carillons are the most common musical instruments inside the clocks, found –​according to Ingstad –​in the works of at least 20 makers. About half of the makers are mentioned to have produced more than one musical clock. The number of melodies varies from one up to ten, most often between three and

newgenrtpdf

Region Name

Birth Death

Instrument types1

Pages in source

Christiania (Oslo) Peder Jensen Nøttestad Hans Christian Ender (Endresen) Halvor Haavelsen Thomas Frogner Christopher Larsen Lund3 Ole Larssen Riis Poul Andreas Smebye Jens Jørgen Schiøtt Amund Andersen Enger Knud Olsen Enger Heinrich Kleiser

1693–​1763 1722–​1782 Ca. 1723–​1795 1728–​1782 Ca. 1729–​1786 1748–​after 18034 1758–​1800 Ca. 1760–​after 1815 Ca. 1760–​1846 1800–​1879 1814–​1882

65ff 74 74 74 75–​79 81 83 82–​83 83 85 87–​88

Edv. Engebretsen H. A. Hansen

1856–​1925 1857–​1936

Carillon clock Carillon clock Carillon clock Carillon clock2 Organ clock, carillon clock? Organ clock? carillon clock? Carillon clock (bracket clock) Carillon clock Carillon clock Unknown type(s) Not confirmed as maker of musical clocks, but sold dulcimer and carillon clocks, possibly organ clocks5 Unknown type(s)6 Unknown type(s)

Akershus Erlend Ellefsen Blackstad Ole Nielsen Braaten Amund Fenstad (Braaten) Peder (Pedersen) Leich John Olsen

Ca. 1720–​1780 18th century 18th–​19th century Ca. 1744–​after 1815 ?–​ca. 1790

Carillon clock Unknown type(s) Carillon clock, cuckoo clock Unknown type(s) Unknown type(s)

96 101–​102 102 102 102–​103

Østfold Amund Petersen Sannes

1716–​1789

Carillon clock

106

88–​89 89

132  Mats Krouthén

Table 7.1 Norwegian musical clockmakers according to Ingstad. Urmakerkunst i Norge (1980). Use of other sources will be commented

newgenrtpdf

Hedmark Ole Pedersen Hammerstad Jens Nielsen Ottestad Torger Hansen Leich Knud Tollefsen Ilsaas Oppland Amond Tollefsen Smebyh, Peder Larsen Bierke Jacob Larsen Bierche Christen Biercke Ole Christiansen Bjerke John Thordsen Braastad (Jo Haagaa) Erland Landsend Siver Thoresen Ølstad Erland Lien Buskerud Knud Larsen Echen Lars Stensen Flaata Vest-​Agder Johannes Mørch

Unknown type(s) Carillon clock Carillon clock Carillon clock

127, 154 129–​130 132 141

1711–​1771 1753–​1836 18th century 1788–​1830 1798–​1869 1799–​1875

Carillon clock Carillon clock Carillon clock Unknown type(s) Unknown type(s) Carillon clock

147–​151 157–​159 159 159–​160 160 180–​181

1732–​1816 1756–​1810 1786–​1860

Carillon clock Carillon clock Unknown type(s)

195 200–​202 206–​207

1744/​49–​18107 1829–​1880

Carillon clock, cuckoo clock Carillon clock, (bracket clock)

236 241

Active at least around 1796

Unknown type(s). Possibly salesman, not confirmed maker of clocks

270

ca. 1778–​

Unknown type(s). Possibly salesman, not confirmed maker of clocks. Relative to musical clock maker Martin Blessing from Schwartzwald

328 (continued)

A private playlist?  133

Bergen Mathias Blessing

1788–​1818 1766–​1841 1737–​1814 1788–​1839

newgenrtpdf

Region Name

Birth Death

Instrument types1

Pages in source

Sør-​Trøndelag Ingebrigt Graboe Ole Hervig Børre Hansen Langland8 Lars Olsen Granøien Trond Ingebrigtsen Eggan John Dalen

1726–​1798 Before 1749–​after 1790 1732–​1821 1777–​1829 1745–​1785 1763–​1844

Carillon clock Carillon clock Carillon clock, cuckoo clock Organ clock Carillon clock Carillon clock

371–​373 373 387–​392 394–​395 402–​403 408–​410

1 All in longcase clocks, if not otherwise specified, and according to Ingstad. 2 Knap, Det gamle stueur, 71, mentions Frogner making several clocks, of unspecified types. 3 Christopher Larsen Lund signed himself both Christopher Larsen and Christopher Lund. 4 Riis left Christiania in 1803, see Norske Intelligens-​Sedler, 20 July 1803. 5 Kleiser, Urfedrene, 22, mentions strings (dulcimer) and clocks with bells.The imported Schwartzwald clocks might have included some organ clocks as well –​the prominent type of musical clock from this region. As mentioned earlier, Kleiser himself owned one organ clock. 6 The picture of a dial in Ingstads book (page 88) indicates a carillon clock. 7 Date of birth 1744, according to the 1801 census for Sigdal prestegjeld (parish). 8 His last name was misspelled as Langeland by Ingstad; this according to Grønli, Bonden, klokkemakeren, 11, who also corrected the date of death to 1821.

134  Mats Krouthén

Table 7.1  Cont.

A private playlist?  135 six. The number of bells is seldom mentioned in Ingstad’s book. However, an overview of extant instruments shows a range between 9 (purely in a diatonic ionic or mixolydian scale) and 19 bells (one and a half octave in a near fully chromatic scale). The earliest mentioned carillon clockmaker, also thought to be the earliest domestic clockmaker in Norway, was Peder Jensen Nøttestad, making ‘clockworks with carillon and other special installations’.19 He was born in Ottestad, Stange in Hedmark county. After some learning years in London and visits to other countries, he returned to Norway and settled down in Christiania in 1730.20 He is said to have been the first domestic professional clockmaker with a regular production. In 1734 he was granted exclusive privileges for Christiania and its surroundings for clockmaking. The year before, in his application for privileges, he had indicated that too many clocks were imported from England:  ‘a great deal of the money that yearly is sent to England for clocks, could stay in the country’.21 Nøttestad is mentioned to have produced more musical clocks than any other Norwegian clockmaker, delivering musical clocks to the Danish-​Norwegian Queen Sophie Magdalene (1700–​1770).22 The owners of the clocks in the eighteenth century, as well as the value of the clocks, point to wealthy families. So does a decorated Nøttestad longcase musical clock, belonging to the well-​known Wessel family.23 Amund Smebyh from the ‘Vestgarden Smeby’ farm in Eastern Toten was an apprentice to Nøttestad. Since he was from a region nearby to Nøttestad’s, there might have been a social connection between the two. The tradition says that he spent three years in London to learn the craft, maybe recommended and supported by his master.24 We can assume that both of these clockmakers also had learnt the musical clock craft on their European journeys. There are some surviving clocks by Smebyh, among them a well-​decorated bracket musical clock, dated ca. 1750 containing nine bells that can play three melodies.25 Like many other clockmakers in Norway, Smebyh ran a farm beside the workshop. By the middle of the nineteenth century, nearly all production of carillon clocks had stopped. Only a few Norwegian makers are mentioned to have produced organ clocks with pipes. In March 1772, Christopher Larsen Lund wrote in the newspaper Nordske Intelligenz-​Sedler about a self-​made clock ‘which every twelfth hour plays a hymn, not on a carillon but on pipes’.26 In addition, the clock had a series of figures that moved when the clock struck and the hymn was played. Lund tried to establish himself at the Christiania market with some extraordinary offers. From his text it can be assumed that carillons were the norm of musical clockmaking at that time. Another explicit sample of organ clockmaking is reported in Støren, where Lars Olsen Granøien made ‘musical clocks with flutes’.27 Also, Ole Larssen Riis from Christiania can be added as a plausible organ clockmaker. When he opened his workshop in 1776 he declared that he made ‘all kinds of musical clocks, cabinet clocks and pocket watches’.28 This could possibly mean both organ and carillon clocks. He returned to Copenhagen in 1803.29 Here he had earlier been a journeyman to the musical clockmaker Michael Peter

136  Mats Krouthén Beck. Beck’s masterpiece in 1774, which was described as ‘an eight days quarter chime and musical clock’, was however never completed.30 It has to be added that a rapid change in the clock production, in general, in Norway occurred in the 1800s. Starting already at the turn of the century, an increasing number of clocks were imported from Schwarzwald via Hamburg and other cities by clockmakers and traders off the coast. In addition, clockmakers from Southern Germany moved to Norway, starting to produce cheaper instruments with mechanical parts made out of wood and modern enamelled dials. An early example was Heinrich Kleiser, who was established in Christiania in the 1830s, arriving in Norway together with his entrepreneurial father and two brothers. The family came from the small town of Urach, south of Furtwangen. In 1836, Kleiser received privileges to produce Schwarzwalder clocks.31 No organ clocks are known by him. However, in his advertisement he offered both a dulcimer and some carillon clocks.32 Kleiser and his wife also owned a Schwarzwalder musical clock –​at that time called Orchestrion or Flötenuhr –​made in 1835 by Johan Kaltenbach (1803–​1867) from Neustadt.33 A few clockmakers are reported to have produced ‘cuckoo clocks’, which implicitly belong to the organ clock category. The term would mean that two flute pipes creating the characteristic cuckoo-​sound are used. However, the reservation has to be made that other mechanisms may have been possible. The term is connected to clocks made by Børre Hansen Langland, Amund Olsen Fenstad, and Knud Larsen Echen. These cuckoo clocks are surprisingly early and before the explosive development of Schwarzwalder clocks in Europe in the 1800s. From Table 7.1, it becomes clear that it is often hard to figure out the underlying musical clock technology behind the used terms. Ingstad focused on the fact that the clocks played melodies. In his description of some musical clocks, Ingstad used the twentieth-​ century Norwegian terms musikkur (‘musical clock’), musikkverk (‘music [clock] work’) and sang salmer (‘sang hymns’). In addition, he used three Norwegian contemporary terms, which are also found in a broad search for musical clock-​related material in digitalised Norwegian literature and newspapers:  Sang-​Uhr (‘song clock’), Sangverk (‘song [clock] work’) and Spille-​Uhr (‘playing clock’). To conclude, also the contemporary sources tend to not mention the musical clock type. However, the search gave two interesting hits: firstly, the above-​mentioned organ clock by Lund, with melodies played ‘not on a carillon but on pipes’; secondly, an auction notice from 1806, where ‘a longcase clock with flute tones instead of bells’ is listed.34 Since the carillon is mentioned as a reference to the organ clock in both sentences, but never the opposite, these two samples indicate that the carillon clock was the norm in the Norwegian context.

Imported or locally produced musical clockworks? An important question is whether the clockmakers really produced the musical part of the clockwork or if they imported this as a pre-​fabricated unit. Both

A private playlist?  137 alternatives seem plausible and could well co-​exist. No conclusions will be drawn here, but some key arguments for local production will be outlined. Numerous clockmakers learned the craft on journeys abroad and in the capital of Copenhagen. From the European cities they brought back the knowledge to their workshop, including skills for making and programming cylinders, action, and mechanical parts and the musical parts, such as carillons and organ pipes. London has previously been mentioned as an educational centre for Nøttestad and Smebyh. Copenhagen, the capital of the Danish-​ Norwegian union, offered journeymanship or apprenticeship to the young musical clockmakers Christopher Larsen Lund, Ole Larssen Riis, and Ole Amundsen Braaten. Among the general clockmakers one must also mention Abraham Pihl (1756–​1821), a priest and scientist who studied clockmaking in Copenhagen and who established a ‘school’ at Hedmarken by opening his clock and mechanical workshop in 1789, which most probably inspired numerous musical clockmakers. Other possible clockmaking centres to learn the craft were some southern cities in the Danish-​Norwegian monarchy, Itzehoe, and Altona (both in present-​day Schleswig-​Holstein, Germany). Traditional clockmakers, among whom are Iver Rasmussen and Christen Myhren from Gudbrandsdalen, learned the profession when serving as soldiers in Holstein (1758–​1763).35 This was also the case with Ole L. Rogstad, the father of the organ clockmaker Lars Olsen Granøien.36 Also Christopher Larsen Lund studied in this region at the time. In an article in Nordske Intelligenz-​Sedler in 1774, he wrote that ‘I had learnt my profession as [a]‌clockmaker in Itzehoe in Holsteen’.37 Thus, Holstein has served as a contributing region for learning to make the organ clock in Norway. In parallel, the carillon clockmaker Erlend Ellefsen Blackstad38 is said to have learnt the profession either in the Nøttestad workshop or in exile at the Zionist parish in Altona (1743–​1744).39 There were numerous clockmakers also working as organists, who possessed a musical background that would help them with the intonation of the sound production (bells, pipes), mechanical parts, and with programming the barrels (regardless of the musical clock type –​organ or carillon).40 Three makers are also mentioned to have tuned their own bells. Ingstad reports that Siver Thoresen Ølstad (1756–​1810) in Lesja tuned his bells on the musical clocks with help from his violin.41 He also writes that Erland Lien (1786–​1860) in Vågå in his attempt to make musical clocks ‘neither had the ear to tune the clocks, nor the patience to assemble the works’.42 The folk musician John Ole Morken has kindly shown me how Børre Hansen Langland in Ålen used a modal scale on his musical clock made in 1769. The bell for the interval of the fourth is pitched a little bit high in relation to a well-​tempered scale. Correspondingly, the major seventh sounds lower.43 This tuning procedure implied a local production of bells. Countryside clockmakers were often reckoned as autodidacts, and as local inventors (such as Knud Larsen Echen and Erland Landsend). In that sense it is likely that they would copy an imported clock.44 A closer look at the survived musical clockwork in a clock signed by Børre Hansen Langland, shows that it

138  Mats Krouthén is designed for a musical clock with twice as many melodies as actually programmed. It is also equipped with only 20 hammers playing on 11 bells, though the instrument originally is set up for 29 hammers and up to 15 bells. Langland did not use the full potential of the clockwork. Maybe he had come across a musical clockwork that he adjusted in accordance with his ability, musical preferences, or the customers’ demands. Finally, a last argument to support some domestic musical clockwork production is put by the clock historian Johan Knap, who wrote that the bells in the Norwegian musical clocks were not of as high quality as those in the English ones.45 Arguments for importing the musical clock parts are varied. Firstly, from an international perspective, the tradition of building the whole clockwork mechanism including a repertory on customer demand is seen in some English clocks sold on the Turkish and Chinese markets.46 Secondly, as Erik Ødegaard, clockmaker in Sarpsborg, has pointed out, sometimes the musical clock part is a delicate work, when the rest of the clockwork is made of an average or even low quality. He believes therefore that only a few of the Norwegian makers made their own parts to the musical clockwork, the rest being imported.47 Thirdly, examining a musical clock by Ingebrigt Graboe (1726–​1798) (see below), we find that all the bells are stamped with a number according to the size and tuning. This indicates a serial production, either that Graboe had produced some sets of bells, or even more likely, that he had bought a set of bells and then decided on the scaling afterwards. Also, when examining the surviving instrument by Knud Larsen Echen, a scribed grid is found on the barrel, indicating a highly developed skill in programming the music onto the barrel.48 Whether he made this himself or imported the unit remains to be answered.

Close-​up: Ingebrigt Graboe (1726–​1798), Trondheim By examining two clocks by the mentioned Graboe, I want to highlight the typical repertory in the Norwegian clocks. Ingebrigt Larsen Graboe came from Stenberget in Western Trondheim.49 According to Ingstad, he received permission as a ‘free master’ to repair and produce clocks in 1759.50 He was married twice:  first, to Sara Erichsdatter (?–​1763) and, second, to Christina Christophersdatter Winter (ca. 1724–​ 1777). The whole family  –​males and females  –​were involved in the workshop and three of his sons became clockmakers themselves. According to the administrative sources, Graboe was a man of wealth, owning several properties.51 Between 1767 and 1787 he was mentioned as lieutenant at the 3. Borgerkompani (Third Citizens Military Company) in Trondheim, a voluntary military force, dedicated to defend the city. Some Norwegian clock historians praise Graboe’s work, especially the musical clock parts.52 The historian Anton C.  Bang, on the contrary, writes that he made brass dials well but that the clockwork was less well done.53 Of his production, a bracket clockwork with ‘moon calendar’ and other calendar

A private playlist?  139

Figure 7.1 Musical clock, signed ‘Ingebrigt Graboe’ (NK 351–​1899). © Photo: Johan Norrback.

features, kept at the National Museum of Decorative Arts and Design, is worth mentioning.54 At the National Museum of Decorative Arts and Design, there is a longcase clock, signed by Graboe (Figure 7.1).55 It was a normal procedure that a clockmaker, a master for the casting work, a case carpenter, and a painter were involved in the production line. The clock is not dated, but can be ascribed to the period 1760–​1800 according to the dial design. The clock face, or dial, is made of brass, iron, copper, and silvered copper. It includes a date calendar. An inscription says: ‘Ingebrigt Graboe//​Trondhiem’. Under the arch a circle is engraved with nine titles for the music. The hour strike can be switched on or off manually by a cursor on the dial. The musical clock part is mounted on the same plates as the clockwork but governed by a separate train (i.e. the right keyhole, seen on the dial). The musical clockwork is also equipped with an operating system for changing the

140  Mats Krouthén

Figure 7.2 Action on the musical clock (NK 351–​1899). From below: pinned barrel, hammers and bells. © Photo: Johan Norrback.

tune manually and a driver for turning the system on or off. The pinned brass barrel is hollow and carries the brass barrel pins (Figure  7.2). Twenty-​eight hammers –​heads of brass, shafts of iron –​are mounted on a rack over the barrel. They are distributed over 17 bells of cast iron, mounted in bowl-​in-​bowl order perpendicular to the axis in the clockwork, an arrangement called a right-​angle layout.56 This also means that most bells are operated by two hammers each, for quick repetitions.57 Each hammer is guided by a separate track on the barrel. By a set of levers the axis of the barrel could be slid manually into nine positions, representing nine tracks, one for each melody to be played.There is no space for any more melodies to be added. The bells are tuned chromatically (!) approximately between e♭1–​g2 (a=440), apparently in an equal temperament system.58 The notes (‘c’, ‘d’, ‘e’, etc.) are written on the bells corresponding to a small third below sounding pitch. As mentioned above, the titles of the tunes are carved in wedges in the circle under the arch (see Figure 7.3). There is no centre hole in the plate, indicating any device to change the tune to be played. Instead the change of tunes is governed by the cursor/​indicator in the circle with the inscribed numbers 1–​9, in the upper right corner of the clock dial. The nine titles, and their identification, are found in Table 7.2.

The repertory on Graboe musical clocks In this section, I would like to take a closer look at the titles of the nine melodies connected to the particular clock. According to Table 7.2, the titles 1, 3–​4, 6–​7, and 9 are all well-​known hymns from eighteenth-​century Norway. They

A private playlist?  141

Figure 7.3 The titles of the melodies, written on the clock face (NK 351–​ 1899). © Photo: Mats Krouthén.

Table 7.2 Graboe clock from the National Museum of Decorative Arts and Design. Titles and identification No. Title on the clock

Identified as

Translation

Type of song

1

‘Rind, nu op i Iesu Navn’ ‘Aria Addante’ ‘Iesu dine dybe Vund’ ‘Herre Christ Gud Faders’

Rind nu op i Jesu navn

Rise now, in the name of Jesus

Hymn

Jesu dine dybe vunder

‘Bor ieg paa det høye’ ‘Vor Gud han er saa fast’ ‘Guds sön er Kommen af ’ ‘Hvor løstiga[/​ e?] er som ieg kan[?]‌’ ‘Var Gud ikke med oss den’.

Boer jeg paa det høie Fjeld Vor Gud han er så fast en borg Guds søn er kommen af himmelen ned

Jesus, how thy gaping wounds Christ the Lord, God our Father’s only begotten son Had I lived atop the highest mountain A mighty fortress is our God The Son of God descended is How gay (are), that I might?

2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Herre Christ Gud Faders enbaarne søn

Var Gud ikke med oss denne tid

Were God not with us in this hour

Song Hymn Hymn Patriotic song Hymn Hymn Song Hymn

142  Mats Krouthén are all found in various church hymn books by Thomas Kingo (1634–​1703).59 They are also found in Den nye Psalme-​Bog (The new hymn book) from 1740 by Erik Ludwigsen Pontoppidan (1698–​1764). Both were Danish bishops and poets. These books were used in the church services. On demand from the king, Kingo published numerous hymn books, where he reformed the hymns, often using folk melodies. His book Den Forordnede Ny Kirke-​og Psalme-​Bog (The prescribed new church hymnal) (1721) is reckoned to be the most widely distributed hymn book in Norway during the eighteenth century.60 Thirty years later Pontoppidan published his new hymn book.61 He belonged to the Danish-​ Norwegian state pietism administration that dominated during the second quarter of the century. Pontoppidan became bishop in Bergen in 1745. In the book he included some 90 hymns by Hans Adolph Brorson (1694–​1764), thus following the pietistic movement in Norway from the 1730s and onwards. Pontoppidan was a productive writer and his explanation of the Lutheran catechism for home worship services, Sandhed til Gudfryktighed (Truth which accords with godliness) (1737), remained for over 150 years in Norway an important book for the confirmation students.62 Thus, the hymns in the musical clock represent both the more orthodox Kingo and the pietistically oriented Pontoppidan. Of the remaining three melodies, one is of special interest: Boer jeg paa det høie Field (5), with text by Johan Nordahl Brun (1745–​1816),63 is a patriotic song. Brun was a Norwegian priest, bishop, and poet from Byneset, outside Trondheim.64 The song was published with the title Norges Herlighed (Glory of Norway) in 1791 in Mindre digte (Lesser poems), a collection of both sacred and secular assembly songs.65 The date of the publication of this song leads to the conclusion that if it is assumed that the nine songs are programmed at the same time as the clock was made, and we know that he died in 1798, the dating of the musical clock would be set to 1791–​1798. The title Aria Addante [sic] (2) could mean any song in an andante tempo. It may also be related to any contemporary opera music, comedy, or vaudeville, for instance, the Handel opera Ariodante from 1735.66 Finally, Hvor løstiga er … (8) has not yet been identified. Løstig is a Danish synonym to ‘merry’. It is a fact that the three last songs are not included in any hymn book. The position of the titles of the hymns in the circle is interesting (see Figure 7.3). The order of the hymns forms symmetrical pairs around the more secular titles in number 2, 5, and 8. In addition, the first hymn, Rind nu op i Jesu navn (Rise now, in the name of Jesus), is instructed to be a morning hymn, by Pontoppidan.67 The rest of the hymns all are taken from various parts of the hymn book. The last hymn, Var Gud ikke med oss denne tid, is designated by Kingo as an evening hymn.68 It is therefore possible to interpret a diurnal cycle by the order of the hymns. It is important to note that the titles do not directly refer to any real melody. There is seldom any sound documentation of the pinned barrel on the clock. Therefore, it is not always known which version of the hymns was used. It is well known, however, that the Kingo texts were set to various religious folk songs.69

A private playlist?  143 Another musical clock in private ownership in Telemark is signed ‘Ingebret Graboe//​Tronhjem’.70 It has a similar layout of the mechanical system. Also the design of the musical clockwork is nearly identical, using right-​angle layout for the action, the same material and positions of the parts, the same lever system for changing melodies, etc. Both clocks have nine melodies. Still, considering differences in essential details, number of bells (19), number of hammers (29), and no devices for release of the musical clock, nor the hour strike, the production cannot be interpreted as serial.71 Having more bells and hammers, this requires another method for programming the melodies. Concentrating on the repertory (see Table 7.3), seven of the songs on this clock are known from Pontoppidan. One of those hymns, Himlen er det rette land (2), is not found in Kingo’s hymnal. However, it was a popular melody of a seventeenth-​century Danish-​Norwegian religious song, later used as an alternative melody to texts by hymn authors as Petter Dass and Hans Adolph Brorson.72 The song about Doris (5) is a pastoral poem published in 1773 under the title Ode til Doris (Ode to Doris) in Arier og Sange (Arias and songs), a compilation collected by Hans Jensen Graae.73 The character Doris appears in many Nordic poems from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.74 Melody number eight, Bladerne drives, is not identified so far, but the words imply a folk song behind the title. No titles are the same on the two musical clocks. Nevertheless, the repertory on the two clocks points clearly towards a tradition of using Christian hymns as repertory in clocks, and with a focus on the Pontoppidan and Kingo hymns. Table 7.3 Graboe clock, Telemark (private owner). Titles and identification No. Title on the clock 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Identified as

Translation

I Jesu navn skal al vor In the name of Jesus, gjerning ske all our deeds will be ‘Hemlen er Det Himlen er det rette land Heaven is the rightful rete’ land ‘Om Heme Om Himmerikes rike Let us speak of riges Rige’ saa ville vi tale Heaven’s realms ‘Jeg Beder dig Jeg beder dig min Herre I ask of thee, my Lord min’ og Gud and God ‘Da Doris til Da Doris til verden When Doris unto the Verden’ ble fød world was born ‘Eja mit Jer te Eya mit hierte ret Oh that my heart most ret’ inderlig Jubilerer ardently exults ‘Fader vor i Fader vor udi himmelrig Our Father in heaven Himerig’ ‘Bladerne Bladerne drives The leaves are driven driVes’ ‘Nu Vel an Ver Nu vel an vær frisk til Be now of sound Fris’ mode spirits ‘I Iesu Navn’

Type of song Hymn Hymn Hymn Hymn Song Hymn Hymn Song Hymn

144  Mats Krouthén The museum clock is mixing these songs with three and the Telemark clock with two secular melodies.

Repertory on Norwegian musical clocks The repertory on other ascribed Norwegian musical clocks reinforces the pattern seen at the Graboe clocks  –​selecting a repertory of hymns. This is found either by examining the extant clocks or by the repertory mentioned by Ingstad. Three clockmakers are referred by him as having made musical clocks that ‘played hymns’.75 On two particular carillon clocks, I found that the titles of the melodies are directly chosen to fit the rhythms of daily life. According to Ingstad, one clock made by Amond Smebyh had three melodies; the first played in the morning, Vaagn op og slå på dine strenger (Wake up and let your strings be sounding);76 the second played at noon, Et Høgstdags-​præludium (A midday prelude); and the third played in the evening, Den lyse dag forgangen er (The bright day is ended).77 The second title, a prelude, is unknown but the word høgstdag is an older form of ‘mid-​day’ or ‘noon’. Thus, the three hymns were designated by the titles to mark three distinct moments of the day. The two identified hymns are also found in Pontoppidan’s and Kingo’s hymnals as a morning and evening hymn, respectively. In the second clock, this pattern is prevalent, but not as clear. The clock was made by Knud Larsen Echen.78 It played two Kingo hymns. In the morning: Nu vel an vær frisk til mode, and after dinner: Jeg takker deg, ret hjertelig (I thank thee, most heartily).79 Both hymns were to be sung in the daily service, morning and afternoon, respectively, according to Kingo’s hymnal. Another interesting musical clock that used the repertory more or less for the diurnal cycle was made by the musical clockmaker and organist Torgeir Hansen Leich. Ingstad reports that he made numerous musical clocks containing from one up to six melodies. One clock is identified as having a carillon.80 In 1782, Leich received a silver medallion from Det Danske Landhusholdningsselskab (The Royal Danish Agricultural Society). In the motivation for the prize, the jury mentioned that Leich had made seven musical clocks.81 One clock by him would play a hymn every fourth hour, all of them also found in the Kingo and Pontoppidan hymnals (Table 7.4). Also here, the first hymn, according to Pontoppidan, counted as a morning hymn, and the last hymn, according to Kingo, as an evening hymn. The last sample of repertory in Norwegian musical clocks is taken from Børre Hansen Langland in Ålen. Langland had a vast production of clocks, many of which were for the officials at the mine in Røros and for officers, customers from the rich bourgeoisie, etc., as well as for selling to customers in the Mjøsa region in the south up to Nordland county in the north. In his diary, a carillon musical clock, as well as a cuckoo clock, was mentioned.82 On the Søndre Langland farm in Ålen, there is a carillon musical clock signed by Langland 1769. It played six melodies. One of them was recorded in a radio programme by the Norwegian broadcasting corporation, later identified as Vaagn op og slaa

A private playlist?  145 Table 7.4 Hymn repertory in musical clock made by Torgeir Hansen Leich At 4’ in the morning

Jeg vil din pris udsiunge

(I will sing thy praise)

At 8’ in the morning At noon At 4’ in the afternoon At 8’ in the evening At midnight

O Gud efter dig mig forlanger

(O God, I long for thee)

Hvad kan os komme til for nød (What misfortune might befall us) Jesu dine dype vunder (Jesus, how thy gaping wounds) Nu væl an vær frisk til mode

(Be now of sound spirits)

Paa Gud allene haver jeg satt min lid1

(In God alone I have placed my trust)

 Ingstad, Urmakerkunst i Norge, 132.

1

på dine strenge (Wake up and let your strings be sounding).83 Ingstad ascribes two more hymns to the clock: Vår Gud han er så fast en borg (A mighty fortress is our God), an old Martin Luther hymn, and Den store hvite flokk (Behold a host, arrayed in white) by Hans Adolph Brorson.84 Morken has asserted that the clock also plays the old German protestant hymn Hvo vet hvor nær meg er min Ende (Who knows how near my end may be), in addition to two marches.85 The two former hymns are both known from Kingo and Pontoppidan, while the two latter are found only in Pontoppidan.Would this be an indication of the use of various hymn books in the country? To sum up, eight Norwegian makers are known to have produced musical clocks playing mainly hymns.86 Twenty-​seven different titles are known. Twenty-​ one of them are found in contemporary hymn books, by Pontoppidan and Kingo. Most often the hymns on the clocks are distributed according to a diurnal cycle (morning–​mid day–​evening). Some secular songs are found on Graboe clocks, and two marches at the Langland clock.This repertory was most likely programmed between ca. 1770 and 1810. Among the hymns, three tunes appear on two clocks: Jesu dine dybe vunder, Vaagn op og slaa på dine strenge and Vor Gud han er så fast en borg. Nu vel an vær frisk til mode appears on three different clocks (Graboe, Echen, and Leich). This indicates a degree of popularity.

Conclusion There are several plausible explanations for the dominance of hymn repertory on the domestic longcase and bracket carillon musical clocks. Firstly, the simplest explanation would be that this was the music that lay close to the heart, and lips, of the users. The hymns were everyday music with which the public was conversant. The catechism tradition had its roots back in the reformation. Looking from a different perspective, one can argue that during the examined

146  Mats Krouthén period, Norway was close to Denmark. The political power, as well as the educational and clerical power, was concentrated in the capital, Copenhagen. Protestantism has been described as an important tool to control and discipline the population.87 The king was seen as divine. The authorities supported publications of hymn books for the church service, catechism instructions for the parish, and even other song books to be used for home worship. A good example is Petter Dass’s D. Mort: Luthers Lille Catechismus, often referred to as his Katekismesanger (catechism songs), which was first published in 1715.88 The habit was well anchored in all social layers. The use of hymns was designated in a liturgical order in diurnal cycles, devotions before and after the day’s work, a heritage from the Divine Office in the Roman Catholic Church.89 The clock, therefore, could serve as a thermometer of religious rituals or Christianity as a tradition in cultural life. Quoting music anthropologist Alan P. Merriam, the study has shown that the use of musical clocks at a collective level could be understood in terms of ‘[t]‌he function of enforcing conformity to social norms, … of validation of social institutions and religious rituals … [and] of contribution to the continuity and stability of culture’.90 At an individual level, the melodies on the clocks that repeatedly played in the homes of the nobility, bourgeoisie, officials, and of rich farmers could well be called ‘the private playlists of the eighteenth century’. It remains to examine –​on a broader survey of song material –​the tendency of using hymns from one or another particular hymn book, published for the church or worship at home, like those mentioned by Kingo and Pontoppidan or Brorson. For instance, a brief comparison of the identified 21 hymns in Pontoppidan’s Den nye Psalme-​Bog (The new hymn book) with Harboe and Høegh-​Guldberg’s Psalme-​Bog (Hymn book), first published in 1778, and in the nineteenth century for a long time an authorised hymn book in Norway, shows that the new hymn book only partly covers the repertory (about 50% in all). This would indicate that in the production period of the investigated clocks, Harboe and Høegh-​Guldberg’s hymn book was not dominating in popularity. Such a wider investigation also might discover regional variations and changes over time.91 In the case of Ingebrigt Graboe, we have found the hymn repertory mixed up with more secular contemporary songs.92 Therefore, Graboe might be regarded as a representative of a shift in Norwegian musical clock repertory towards a more secular Enlightenment-​orientated movement, a period of self-​fulfilment of the growing middle class and slightly released censorship. For instance, Brun wrote both hymns, plays, and drinking songs, publishing numerous assembly songs in the mentioned Arier og Sange. Another such author was Johan Vibe (1748–​1782), on the one hand, supplying hymns to the Danish-​orientated Guldberg’s hymn book, and on the other hand, producing plays and drinking songs.93 The choice of repertory could well be explained by the purchaser’s personal taste, the three clocks simply representing three individuals. Another explanation for the dominance of the hymns in the musical clock repertory could partly be attributed to the idiomatic nature of a carillon.

A private playlist?  147 Playing one note at a time with a long sustain of the tone might favour folk songs and hymns. There is a ‘representative character’ in the sound, as Jörgen Hocker puts it in the German standard music encyclopaedia, Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart.94 The organ clock, where the tone is controlled, and varied, both in time and sonority, would allow rapid melodies, counterpoint, trills, and ornamentation, thus favouring a more artistic expression. Organ clocks with the ‘long-​playing’ helicoidally notated barrels also were favoured by contemporary composers for idiomatic pieces and arrangements of opera music, etc. The rich use of hymn repertory in Norwegian clocks could also be explained as being a heritage from the physical clock itself. In Central Europe, the longcase clock was an artefact that had been imported into the house from the official timekeeper –​the church tower or town hall clock that played folk songs and hymns.95 Hocker has stated that ‘the carillon functioned as sounding landmarks in the city, and the music was often adapted to the liturgical year’.96 Similarly, British musical clocks from the eighteenth century often were equipped with quarter and/​ or hour chiming, thus imitating chimes from church towers. The chiming was reminiscent of the quantification of time and an automatisation of earlier alarms from hand bells, trumpets, etc. In addition, in every way, the beautiful clock was a novelty, and a status symbol. The clocks chimed on every quarter or just on the hour, sounding exactly as the church bells of Whittington chimes, Guildford chimes, Winchester chimes, etc.97 As a comparison, Lefeber-​Morsman has reported a Dutch clock repertory containing dance melodies, arias from operas, songs with texts about politics or love, and even from melodies with obscene texts.98 Although the repertory on British and American musical clocks mostly consists of airs, dance music, and folk songs, there was also a tradition, of sometimes putting in a hymn as a seventh melody, suitable to be played on Sundays! The hymns were in concordance with the Norwegian hymn tradition, representing an Anglican liturgy, though, by using the old psalms of David. An even more marked reaction could also be to stop the clock’s melody on Sundays. Ord-​Hume calls this phenomenon ‘the Silent Sunday Repertory’.99 Also in New England some clocks are reported to having been playing only hymns, chiming imitation of church bells or a Sunday hymn.100 Examining more clocks will give us more knowledge about the repertory on musical clocks in Norway in comparison to other regions, as well as knowledge of the craft, distribution, possible import of parts, etc. By following the owners of the clocks, more light could be shed on the social history of the musical clocks.101

Notes 1 See, for instance, Jüttemann, Schwarzwälder Flötenuhren; Kowar, Die Wiener Flötenuhr. In the Nordic regions (Sweden), see Kilström,‘Flöjtur, äldre mekaniska musikinstrument’ or Norrback and Ling, ‘Flöjturet och tiden’.

148  Mats Krouthén 2 Buchner, ‘Musical Clock’, 725; Hocker, Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart, 1716. However, Hocker mentions also less known composers, as Friedrich Benda, Carl Heinrich Graun, and Friedrich Wilhelm Rust as contributors to music for organ clocks at the court of Friedrich II, King of Prussia. Ibid., 1729. 3 Buchner, ‘Musical Clock’, 725. 4 Ord-​Hume. The Musical Clock, 30ff. 5 Ibid., 75. 6 Ibid., 210–​38. Four Danish makers are mentioned in a register but nothing on the repertory, see 303–​38. 7 Norrback. ‘The Pinned Barrel as Music Archive’, 19–​20. 8 Lefeber-​Morsman, Zet hem op een ton. 9 Gotaas, Lirendreiere og lurendreiere, 23. 10 Sprengels, Handwerke und Kunste in Tabellen, 77–​105. 11 A term used in Ord-​Hume, The Musical Clock, 244. 12 All titles of books, songs, etc., translated by Annabella Skagen unless otherwise indicated. 13 Berg, ‘Peder Nøttestad’, 89–​95; Engelstad, Blakstad i Asker: gården og slekten, 73–​91; Grønli, ‘Bonden, klokkemakeren og foregangsmannen Børre Hansen Langland’, 9–​ 12. Ole Gunnar Folde and Hans Grønli are currently working on a new biography on Langland. 14 Tollersrud, ‘Husflid, håndverk og industri’, 256–​ 75; Aune, ‘Klokkemakere i Trøndelag’,  6–​7. 15 Ingstad, Urmakerkunst i Norge, 25, 296–​8, 364. 16 For the socio-​historical uses and functions of the musical clock, see also Krouthén, ‘Ikke bare tikk-​takk’. 17 This is not to be read as an exhaustive list of producers, rather a summary of those appearing in Ingstad’s book. A longcase clock signed by Povel/​Poul Pedersen (lived in Christiania [Oslo] in the eighteenth century) with carillons and 12 melodies was sold at Christiania Auktionsforretning in 2015. See object 110. ‘Gulvur i mahogni’ signed Poul Pedersen, spillverk med 12 melodier, accessed 4 June 2020, www.chr-​ auksjon.no/​auctions/​77?page=4&category=&query=. We also have to take into consideration the possibility that some of the ‘makers’ mentioned by Ingstad might have offered imported instruments (i.e. Johannes Mørch and Mathias Blessing), and that an advert for offers is not always an implication of a real production (as the case is for Christopher Larsen Lund, Heinrich Kleiser, or Ole Larssen Riis). 18 Ord-​Hume, The Musical Clock, 13. 19 Ingstad, Urmakerkunst i Norge, 70. 20 Berg. ‘Peder Nøttestad’, 89. Alas, the ‘other countries’ are not specified explicitly in the text. 21 ‘en stor Deel av de Penge som nu aarlig sendes til England for Uhrverker, kunde forblive i Landet’. The application quoted in Ingstad, Urmakerkunst i Norge, 66. 22 Ingstad, ibid., 70. Until 1814 the kingdom Denmark-​Norway had one royal family, situated in Copenhagen. From 1660 Norway was regarded as a semi-​independent province. 23 Bachke, Tordenskioldiana, 175. See also picture at page  212. The clock was later owned by the Knoff family. Today it is in private ownership. 24 Tollersrud. ‘Husflid, håndverk og industri’, 259. 25 ‘Kaltenbach, 1835’, SNU 777(a), Norsk Teknisk museum.

A private playlist?  149 26 ‘at det hver tolvte Time avspiller en Psalme, ikke med Klokkespill, men med Piber’. Nordske Intelligenz-​Sedler, 18 March 1772. See also Ingstad, Urmakerkunst i Norge, 76. 27 ‘musikkverk med fløyter’. Ingstad, Urmakerkunst i Norge, 395. See also Aune, ‘Klokkemakere i Trøndelag’. 28 ‘Alle Slags Spille-​Uhrer, Cabinet-​og Lommeuhrer forfærdiges og istandsættes’. Nordske Intelligenz-​Sedler, 6 March 1776; 13 March 1776; 8 May 1776. See also Ingstad, Urmakerkunst i Norge, 81. 29 Norske Intelligens-​Sedler, 20 July 1803. 30 ‘8-​døgns kvarterur med spilleværk’. Ingvordsen. Urmagere i Danmark før år 1900, 125, 858. 31 Kleiser, Urfedrene, 14ff. 32 Morgenbladet, 6 and 8 February 1839. See also Kleiser, Urfedrene, 22. 33 ‘Kaltenbach, 1835’, SNU 777(a), Norsk Teknisk museum. 34 ‘et Stueuhr med Fleutetoner i Steden for Sangklokker’. Norske Intelligens-​Sedler, 4 April 1806. 35 Buggeland, Maihaugens bok om handverk, 180; Ingstad Urmakerkunst i Norge, 210. 36 Ingstad, Urmakerkunst i Norge, 394. 37 ‘Efterat jeg i Itzehoe udi Holsteen hos Mester Nicolaj Knobbe havde udstaaet min Läre i Uhrmager-​Professionen’. Norske Intelligenssedler, 24 and 31 August 1774. 38 Carillon maker, an inductive conclusion, based on a picture analysis of extant clocks, with cases and dials in English style, see Engelstad, Blakstad i Asker,  84–​85. 39 Engelstad, Blakstad i Asker, 117–​18. 40 According to Ingstad, this includes Peder Pedersen Leich and his relative, Torgeir Hansen Leich, John Thordsen Braastad (Jo Haagaa), and Erland Landsend. 41 Ingstad, Urmakerkunst i Norge, 201. 42 ‘Han hadde hverken øre til å stemme klokkene eller tålmodighet til å samarbeide verket’. Ibid., 207. 43 John Ole Morken, email to the author 29 June 2016. The pitch is not calculated or measured, but orally examined. There is a general methodological challenge in measuring fundamentals in sounding bells. 44 See, for instance, Aune, ‘Klokkemakere i Trøndelag’. 45 Knap, Det gamle stueur, 71. 46 Ord-​Hume, The Musical Clock, 71. 47 Clockmaker Erik Ødegaard, personal communication via phone, 13 June 2015. 48 ‘Echen, Sigdal’, NF.1958–​-​0537, Norsk Folkemuseum. 49 Døde og begravede (Dead and buried), Ministerialbok, 1783–​1818, 47. 50 Ingstad, Urmakerkunst i Norge, 371–​2. 51 Støren and Schmidt, Trondhjems borgerlige realskole 1783–​1956, 77; Støren, Sted og navn i Trondhiem, 163–​4, 174. 52 Knap, Stueuret og tiden, 94; Ingstad, Urmakerkunst i Norge, 373. 53 Bang, Fortegnelse over ældre norske urmagere, 8. 54 ‘Graboe, Tronhiem’, NK.024–​-​1919, Nordenfjeldske kunstindustrimuseum. 55 ‘Graboe, Tronhiem’, NK. 351–​ 1899; Steen, Registration card, Nordenfjeldske kunstindustrimuseums arkiv. 56 A term used in Ord-​Hume, The Musical Clock, 57. Note that some hammers are bent, and therefore maybe not hitting the intended bells; thus, the exact number of hammers/​bells is not examined. 57 Ibid., 69.

150  Mats Krouthén 58 The bell tones were recorded by the author, then audibly compared with a flute synthesizer sound in equal temperament. 59 Kingo, Den Forordnede Nye Kirke-​Psalme-​Boog. Melody (1) Rind, nu op i Jesu Navn was published in his earlier publication Aandelige Siunge-​Koor from 1677. 60 Bergheim, Døren høy og porten vid, 27–​41. See also Valkner, Norges kirkehistorie, 46ff; Herresthal, ‘Kirkemusikken på 1700-​tallet’, 174–​5. 61 Pontoppidan, Den nye Psalme-​Bog. 62 Bergheim, Døren høy og porten vid, 39; Austad, ‘Erik Pontoppidan’. 63 His middle name was –​as demonstrated in this ­chapter –​written both Nordal and Nordahl. 64 Bliksrud, ‘Johan Nordal Brun’. 65 Brun, Samling af Johan Nordahl Bruns mindre digte (1791), 243–​5. He set a new text to the Swedish song Fredmans Epistle No. 51, by Carl Michael Bellman, first published in 1790. Brun indicates in the foreword ‘Til Læseren’ (‘To the reader’) that he is replacing the first line of Bellman’s epistle with his own line ‘Boer jeg paa det høie Field’. Brun, ibid., 6. 66 Melodies from Handel operas are frequently found in English musical clocks. 67 ‘Morgen-​Psalm’. Pontoppidan, Den nye Psalme-​Bog, no. 520, 551ff. 68 It is placed under ‘Almindelige Psalmer paa Søndagene. Søndag Aften-​Sang’. Kingo, Den Forordnede Nye Kirke-​Psalme-​Boog, 21. 69 For instance, Rind nu op i Jesu navn occurs as a folk tune after Marit Sivertsdatter Glærum, cf. Sommerro, Rind nu op i Jesu navn). This is different from the melody published in Pontoppidan’s Den Nye Psalme-​Bog. Ole Mørk Sandvik has shown similar varieties in this hymn; six (!) variants from Nordmøre, Valdres, Sykkylven, Trysil, etc. He also points at folk choral variants of Jesu dine dybe vunder and Vor Gud han er saa fast en borg. Sandvik, Norske religiøse folketoner, 48, 87, 109. 70 Private owner, Telemark. 71 Other differences relating more to design include the melody titles, written counterclock-​wise, in opposition to the museum clock, the different pattern on the cast corner and arch brass ornaments, and that the spelling of both the surname and the city name varies. 72 The hymn is ascribed to Fredrik Brandt (1632–​1698) ; see Brandt and Helveg, Den Danske psalmedigtning, 1846, 358. The melody was used to Brorson’s hymn Gak, hen i Gethsemane ; see Brorson, Hans Adolph Brorsons egne salmer, [No, 33]. See also Den Siette Sang, a hymn sung as Himlen er det rette land in various later versions of Dass, D. Mort: Luthers Lille Catechismus. 73 Graae, Arier og Sange. 74 The name Doris originates from the antique mythology. Doris was a sea nymph, mother to Amphitrite, the wife to Poseidon, and to Triton, as well as aunt to Atlas. See Nationalencyklopedin, s.v. ‘Doris’, accessed 8 June 2020, www.ne.se/​ uppslagsverk/​encyklopedi/​l%C3%A5ng/​doris-​(gr-​mytrel). On songs about Doris, see, for instance, Bording,‘Det sidste Mand fra Doris hørde’, 234–​236.The character ‘Doris’ is also well used by the Finland-​Swedish poet Gustav Philip Creutz (1731–​ 1785) who shows the friendship between the young Doris and Camilla in the poem Atis och Camilla, published in 1761. Creutz, Dikter och brev. 75 Christopher Larsen Lund, Ole Braaten, and Erland Landsend. 76 Hymn recently translated by Mogens Lemvig Hansen. ‘Translations of Danish Hymns on the Net’. See also Mogens Lemvig Hansen, ‘The Hymns I Translated’.

A private playlist?  151 77 Ingstad, Urmakerkunst i Norge, 150. The evening hymn was written and published in Danish, in En liden Vandrebok already in 1589 by Hans Christensen Sthen. Sthen, En liden Vandrebog, 52. 78 ‘Echen, Sigdal’, NF.1958–​0537, Norsk Folkemuseum. 79 Letter from K.  O. Haugan, to Emil Schee. Object NF. 1982–​ 0327, Norsk Folkemuseum. 80 Ingstad, Urmakerkunst i Norge, 132. 81 Krohn, Herlige Hedmark!, 177. 82 Dagbok (Diary) in Privatarkiv etter Børre Hansen Langland, Statsarkivet i Trondheim. See also Ingstad, Urmakerkunst i Norge, Appendix II. 83 Aune, Herman, and John S. Röstvig, ‘Börre Langland og klokkemakere i Ålen’. Aired on 25 September 1956 on Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation (NRK). Thanks to Ivar Roger Hansen for identifying the melody on a seminar at Ringve Music Museum, December 2015. 84 ‘A mighty fortress’, see, for instance, Lutheran Service Book, no. 656; ‘Behold a host’, ibid., no. 676. 85 Morken, ‘Musikkinstrumenter i Holtålen kommune, 14. ‘Who knows how near’, see, for instance, Winkworth, The Chorale Book for England, no. 187. 86 A musical clock in private ownership, signed by Jens Ottestad, has got six melodies, which all sound like hymns. However, the melodies are yet not analysed. 87 Orning, ‘Norges historie’. 88 Dass, Katekismesanger, 53ff. 89 ‘[T]he origin of the three-​hourly strike can be traced to the order bestowed upon man’s day by the Church, hence justify the use of this term when referring to clocks with a three-​hourly cycle.’ Ord-​Hume, The Musical Clock, 122; see also Knap, Stueuret og tiden, 20. 90 Merriam, The Anthropology of Music, 224–​5. 91 Harboe and Høegh-​Guldberg, Psalme-​Bog. 92 One more musical clock by Graboe with similar design has, for instance, been examined, containing nine melodies. It comprises nine popular secular melodies. 93 Valkner, Norges kirkehistorie, 72, 75. 94 Hocker, ‘Mechanische Musikinstrumente’, 1726. 95 Ord-​Hume refers to a vast use of secular popular songs in the British musical clocks. Ord-​Hume, The Musical Clock. Lefeber-​Morsman has reported a Dutch clock repertory containing dance melodies, songs ‘about politics or love and drinking songs, songs about comical waggish courtships, and even risqué songs’. Lefeber-​Morsman, Zet hem op een ton, 124. 96 ‘Die Glockenspiele galten als musikaliscke Wahrzeiten einer Stadt, und die Musik war oft dem Kirchenjahr angepasst’. Hocker, ‘Mechanisches Musikinstrumente’, 1714. See also Corbin, Village Bells, passim. 97 Ord-​Hume, The Musical Clock, 30ff. 98 Lefeber-​Morsman, Zet hem op een ton, 124. 99 Ord-Hume, The Musical Clock, 30ff., 89. 100 Sullivan and Van Winkle Keller, Keeping Time; Ord-​Hume, The Musical Clock, 29, 89. 101 See also Krouthén, ‘Ikke bare tikk-​takk’.

152  Mats Krouthén

Bibliography Aune, Herman. ‘Klokkemakere i Trøndelag’. Adresseavisen (10 December 1949): 6–​7. Austad, Torleiv. ‘Erik Pontoppidan’. In Store Norske leksikon/​Norsk Biografisk Leksikon. Last modified 12 June 2016. https://​nbl.snl.no/​Erik_​Pontoppidan –​  2. Bachke,Victoria, ed. Tordenskioldiana. Trondheim: Ringve Museum, 1958. Bang, Anton Christian. Fortegnelse over ældre norske urmagere, især bondeurmagere. Kristiania, 1910. Berg, Arno. ‘Peder Nøttestad’. St. Hallvard 19 (1941): 89–​94. Bergheim, Irene. Døren høy og porten vid:  Salmetoner i norske salme-​og koralbøker før reformasjonen til forslag til ny salmebok 2013. Oslo: Akademika, 2013. Bliksrud, Liv. ‘Johan Nordal Brun’. In Store Norske leksikon/​Norsk Biografisk Leksikon. Last modified 4 February 2015. https://​nbl.snl.no/​Johan_​Nordal_​Brun. Bording, Anders. ‘Det sidste Mand Fra Doris hørde’. In Digte, edited by Det danske Sprog-​og Litteraturselskab. København: Det danske Sprog-​og Litteraturselskab, 1984–​1986. Accessed 8 May 2020. http://​adl.dk/​solr_​documents/​bording01valworkid110581. Brandt, Carl Joakim, and Ludvig Nicolaus Helveg. Den danske Psalmedigtning, vol. 1. Copenhagen (København): C.A. Reitzel, 1846. Brorson, Hans [Adolph]. Hans Adolph Brorsons egne salmer og åndelige sange. Copenhagen (København): Lindhardt og Ringhof, 2019. Brun, Johan Nordahl. Samling af Johan Nordahl Bruns mindre digte. Copenhagen (Kiøbenhavn): Møller & Søn, 1791. Buchner, Alexandr. ‘Musical Clock’. In The New Grove Dictionary of Musical Instruments, edited by Stanley Sadie, vol II, 724–​5. London: MacMillan Press, 1984. Buggeland,Tord. Maihaugens bok om handverk: De gamle verksteder, folkekunst, kunsthandverk, kirke og samfunn. Lillehammer: Maihaugen, 2000. Corbin, Alain. Village Bells. Sound and Meaning in the 19th-​Century French Countryside, translated by Martin Thom. New York: Columbia University Press, 1998. Creutz, Gustav Philip. Dikter och brev, translated by Marianne Molander Beyer and edited by Horace Engdahl and Marianne Molander Beyer. Stockholm: Bokförlaget Atlantis, 2010. First published 1761. Dass, Petter. Katekismesanger:  D. Mort:Luthers lille catechismus:  Forfatted i beqvemme sange, under føyelige melodier, edited by Jon Haarberg. Oslo:  Det norske språk-​ og litteraturselskap, 2013. Accessed 8 June 2020. http://​www.bokselskap.no/​wp-​ content/​themes/​bokselskap/​tekster/​pdf/​katekismesanger.pdf. First published Copenhagen (København) 1715. Dass, Petter. D. Mort: Luthers Lille Catechismus: forfattet i beqvemme Sange, under føyelige Melodier. Copenhagen (Kiøbenhavn): Ernst Henrich Berling, 1736. Engelstad, Sigurd. Blakstad i Asker: Gården og slekten. Oslo: Moestue, 1958. Gotaas, Thor. Lirendreiere og lurendreiere. Oslo: Norsk folkeminnelag/​Aschehoug, 2002. Graae. Hans Jensen. Arier og Sange. Volume 1:  Bestaaende af et par Hundrede Sange. Copenhagen (Kiøbenhavn): H. J. Graae, 1773. Grønli, Hans O.‘Bonden, klokkemakeren og foregangsmannen Børre Hansen Langland’. Oppunder fjellbandet (1981): 9–​12. Hansen, Mogens Lemvig. ‘The Hymns I Translated’. Last revised 22 September 2006. http://​yen-​hansen.ca/​hymns/​. Harboe, Ludvig, and Ove Høegh-​Guldberg. Psalme-​Bog, eller En Samling af gamle og nye Psalmer til Guds Ære og Hans Meenigheds Opbyggelse. Copenhagen ( Kiøbenhavn): Det kongelige Waysenhuuses Bogtrykkerie, 1781.

A private playlist?  153 Herresthal, Harald. ‘Kirkemusikken på 1700-​tallet’. In Norges musikkhistorie. Volume 1:  Tiden før 1814:  Lurklang og kirkesang, edited by Arvid O. Vollsnes, 273–​ 83. Oslo: Aschehoug 2001. Hocker, Jürgen. ‘Mechanische Musikinstrumente’. In Die Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart, 2nd edition, vol. 2, edited by Ludwig Finscher, 1710–​ 42. Kassel: Bärenreiter/​Metzler,  1996. Ingstad, Olav. Urmakerkunst i Norge:  fra midten av 1500-​årene til laugstidens slutt. Oslo: Gyldendal, 1980. Accessed 10 June 2020. https://​urn.nb.no/​URN:NBN:no-​nb_​ digibok_​2012062505033 Ingvordsen, Jens. Urmagere i Danmark før år 1900, 2 vols. Århus: Den Gamle By, 2004. Jüttemann, Herbert. Schwarzwälder Flötenuhren: Kostbarkeiten aus der frühen Uhrenindustrie des Schwarzwaldes in historischer und volkskundlicher Sicht und ihre Technik. Waldkirch: Waldkircher Verlag,  1991. Kilström, Andreas. ‘Flöjtur:  äldre mekaniska musikinstrument:  Deras konstruktion, förekomst i Sverige samt deras musik och uppförandepraxis’. Bachelor thesis, Musicology, University of Stockholm, 1983. Kingo, Thomas. Thomas Kingos Aandelige Siunge-​ Koors første Part, indeholdende 14. Gudelige Morgen-​og Aften-​Sange, tillige med de 7.  Kong Davids Poenitendse-​Psalmer sangviis forfattede. Copenhagen (Kiøbenhavn): Daniel Paulli, 1677. –––​. Thomas Kingos Aandelige Siunge-​koors Anden Part eller Siælens Opvækkelse til allehaande Andagter i allehaande Tilfælde Melodierne paa Thomæ Kingos aandelige Siunge-​ Koors Anden Partis Sange. Copenhagen (Kiøbenhavn): Daniel Paulli, 1681. –––​. Den Forordnede Nye Kirke-​Psalme-​Boog: Efter Hans Kongel. Majestæts Allernaadigste Befalning &c. af de fornemste Geistlige i Kiøbenhavn. Bergen:  Kongelige Majstes. privilegerede Bogtrykkerie, 1721. Kleiser, Lorentz. Urfedrene: Glimt fra firma Kleisers 160-​årige historie: ur-​og furniturfirma H. Kleiser, etablert i Kristiania 1836. Oslo: Lorentz Kleiser, 1997. Knap, Johan. Det gamle stueur: bruksgjenstand og antikvitet. Oslo: Aschehoug, 1964. –––​. Stueuret og tiden. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1971. Kowar, Helmut. Die Wiener Flötenuhr. Wien: Technisches Museum, 2001. Krohn, Randi. Herlige Hedmark!. Espa: Lokalhistorisk Forlag, 1991. Krouthén, Mats. ‘Ikke bare tikk-​ takk. Om spilleur, makt og prakt i det norske lydlandskapet 1700–​1900’. In Norges lyder: Stabbursklokker og storbykakofoni, edited by Frank Meyer, 43–​63. Oslo: Lokalhistorisk Forlag, 2018. Lefeber-​Morsman, Marieke. Zet hem op een ton:  Repertoire op bellenspeelklokken in het achttiende-​eeuwse Nederland. PhD diss., Utrecht: Utrecht University, 2017. Lindeman, Ludvig Mathias. Kingo-​tona: Ludv. M. Lindemans optegnelser i Valdres 1848: med innledn. og analyse, edited by Ole Mørk Sandvik. Oslo: Tanum, 1941. Lutheran Service Book. Saint Louis, Missouri:  Concordia Publishing House, 2006. Accessed 8 June 2020. https://​hymnary.org/​hymnal/​LSB2006?page=3. Merriam, Alan P. The Anthropology of Music. Evanston, IL:  Northwestern University Press, 1964. Morken, John Ole. ‘Musikkinstrumenter i Holtålen kommune’. Bygdabladet for Ålen og Hessdalen 1 (2003): 14–​16. Norrback, Johan. ‘The Pinned Barrel as Music Archive’. In Festschrift for Prof. Kerala J. Snyder, edited by Joel Speerstra, Ralph P. Locke, and Johan Norrbach. Accessed 8 June 2020. http://​hdl.handle.net/​2077/​60576,  2019. Norrback, Johan, and Jan Ling. ‘Flöjturet och tiden’. Kungl. Vitterhets Historie och Antikvitets Akademiens årsbok (2013): 37–​62.

154  Mats Krouthén Ord-​Hume, Arthur Wolfgang Julius Gerald. The Musical Clock: Musical and Automaton Clock and Watches. Derbyshire: Mayfield Books, 1995. Orning, Hans Jacob. ‘Norges historie’. Store norske leksikon. Last modified 3 August 2018. https://​snl.no/​Norges_​historie. Pontoppidan, Erik. Den Nye Psalme-​Bog:  Udi hvilken findes ey allene de Psalmer, som udi den forordnede Kirke-​Psalme-​Bog af Doct. Kingo have været samlede, men endogsaa mange andre udvalte, deels nye, dels af det tydske Sprog oversatte Psalmer, Den Nye Psalme-​ Bog:  Udi hvilken findes ey allene de Psalmer, som udi den forordnede Kirke-​Psalme-​Bog af Doct. Kingo have været samlede, men endogsaa mange andre udvalte, deels nye, deels af det tydske Sprog oversatte Psalmer til desto mere Opbyggelses Anledning samlet, overseet, og til Trykken befordret paa Høy-​Kongelig allernaadigst særdeles Befalning Hvortil er føyet Collecter, Epistler og Evanglier, Lidelseshistorien, og alle Kirke-​Bønner paa Søn og Hellig-​ Dagene. Copenhagen (Kjøbenhavn):  Det Kongelige Waysen-​Huses Bogtrykkerie, 1745. First published 1740. Sandvik, Ole Mørk. Norske religiøse folketoner. Volume 1:  Melodier sunget til tekster av Thomas Kingo og hans samtidige. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1960. Sprengels, Peter Nathanael. Sprengels Handwerke und Kunste in Tabellen. Mit Kupfern. Beschluss der Metallarbeiter nebst einem Register. Fortgesesst von D.  L. Hartwig. Achte Sammlung, Zweite verbesserte Auslage. Berlin:  Werlag der Buchhandlung der Königl Realshule, 1794. Sthen, Hans Christensen. ‘En Afften eller Natsang: Siungis vnder de Noder: Jeg tiente mig vdi Greffuens Gaard etc’. (Den lyse dag forgangen er). In Hans Christensen Sthens Skrifter. Volume 1:  En liden Vandrebog, edited by Jens Lyster. Copenhagen (København): Det Danske Sprog-​og Litteraturselskab C.A. Reitzel, 1994. Accessed 8 June 2020. http://​adl.dk/​solr_​documents/​sthen01val-​workid59912. Støren,Wilhelm Krefting. Sted og navn i Trondheim: Et topografisk-​historisk leksikon: Omfatter de gamle bydeler, Bymarka og det gamle Lade sokn. Trondheim: Brun,  1983. Støren,Wilhelm Krefting, and Olaus Schmidt. Trondhjems borgerlige realskole 1783–​1956. Trondheim: Trondhjem Borgerlige Realskole, 1956. Sullivan, Gary R., and Katre Van Winkle Keller. Keeping Time: Musical Clocks of Early America 1730–​1830. Exhibit Catalogue. North Grafton, MA:  The Willard Clock and House Museum, 2013. Tollersrud, Kristian. ‘Husflid, håndverk og industri’. In Totens bygdebok, edited by Sigurd Røse, vol. 1, 251–​548. Oslo: Toten Historielag, 1952. ‘Translations of Danish Hymns on the Net’.The Danish Lutheran Church of Vancouver, B. C. Accessed 8 June 2020. www.danishchurch.vancouver.bc.ca/​GGG/​other.html. Valkner, Kristen. Norges kirkehistorie ca. 1500–​1800. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1959. Winkworth, Catherine, ed. The Chorale Book for England. Grand Rapids, MI: Christian Classics Ethereal Library, 1863. Accessed 8 June 2020. https://​hymnary.org/​hymn/​ CBE/​187.

Archive sources Nordenfjeldske kunstindustrimuseums arkiv (Archive of the National Museum of Decorative Arts and Design) Steen, Alb[ert]. Registration card, NK 351–​ 1899 [see “Graboe, Tronhiem” under ‘Objects’ below], 1964.

A private playlist?  155 Norsk Folkemuseum (Norwegian Museum of Cultural History) Letter from K. O. Haugan to Emil Schee attached to the longcase clock ‘Echen, Sigdal’ NF.1958-​0537 [see first entry under ‘Objects’ below]. 30. Jan. 1899.

Statsarkivet i Trondheim (Regional State Archives in Trondheim) Ministerialbok (Parish register) nr. 601A08, 1783–​ 1818 for Trondheim prestegjeld (Trondheim parish), Domkirken sokn. Privatarkiv (Private archive) etter Børre Hansen Langland, SAT/​PA-​0046/​D/​L0001/​ 0001.

Printed music Sommerro, Henning. Rind nu op i Jesu navn. Folketone etter Marit Sivertsdatter Glærum, Surnadal. Nedteikna av Edv. Bræin. For blandet kor a cappella. Oslo: Norsk musikkforlag (NMO 9936), 1987.

Objects Longcase clocks ‘Echen, Sigdal’. NF.1958–​0537. Norsk Folkemuseum (Norwegian museum of Cultural History), Oslo. ‘Graboe, Tronhiem’. NK 351–​1899. Nordenfjeldske kunstindustrimuseum (National Museum of Decorative Arts and Design), Trondheim. ‘Graboe, Tronhiem’. Private ownership. Trøndelag [Norway]. ‘Graboe, Trondhjem’. Private ownership. Telemark [Norway]. ‘Kaltenbach, 1835’. SNU 777. Norsk Teknisk Museum (Norwegian Museum of Science and Technology),  Oslo. ‘Langland, 1769’. Private ownership. Trøndelag [Norway]. ‘Ottestad, Stange’. Private ownership. Telemark [Norway].

Bracket clocks ‘Graboe, Tronhiem’. NK.024–​1919. Nordenfjeldske kunstindustrimuseum (National Museum of Decorative Arts and Design), Trondheim. ‘Smebyh’. SNU 777(a). Norsk Teknisk Museum (Norwegian Museum of Science and Technology), Oslo.

8  Itinerant female performers in the Nordic sphere 1760‒1774 Traceability and visibility Anne Margrete Fiskvik

Introduction Itinerancy among artists has long traditions all over Europe. Dancers, musicians, singers, acrobats, and actors travelled widely, often seeking employment at princely courts or asking for permission to perform publicly in market squares or other rented locations. During the eighteenth century, several itinerant artists who offered dance in various ways arrived from countries in what today are Germany and the Baltic states and England to try their luck in Nordic cities.1 The performers travelled between countries, towns, and cities offering a variety of entertainments. Although eighteenth-​century Europe was still a male-​ dominated society, both women and men were active as dancers and actors in ambulant ensembles, in smaller or larger constellations. Three female artists as well as an all-​female ensemble serve as the main characters of this chapter. Dance historian Lynn Matluck Brooks claims that female artists have been given less attention than men in general history as well as in dance history.2 This chapter looks into this with respect to the Nordic situation in the latter part of the eighteenth century. Brooks advocates the need for ‘making women emerge from the records, to be remembered, evaluated and, in many cases, newly appreciated’.3 Within this lies the recognition that the issue of female dancers deserves to be scrutinised more thoroughly, not only because they were women, but also because of their important contributions to the field of dance and popular entertainment. Thus, the aim of this chapter is to discuss some female itinerant performers who travelled in the Nordic region in the latter part of the eighteenth century: De Preussiske Kunstnerinder (The Prussian female artists) was an all-​female ensemble, whereas Christina Doreothea Stuart (‘Madam Stuart’), Maria Scaglia (‘Madam Scaglia’), and Anna Catharina Nürenbach (‘Madam Nürenbach’) were travelling and performing in duet with their husbands and on their own as widows.These four case studies have been chosen because these women all travelled and worked as independent artists as well as alongside their husbands. Their visibility and traceability vary:  the Preussiske Kunstnerinder is known so far only through poster material from 1760, whereas the Mesdames have been mentioned in various source materials on Norwegian and Nordic theatre and dance history. However, two of them have been mentioned less

Itinerant female performers  157 in their own capacity as artists than as being married to well-​known male artists. Nevertheless, their itinerancy brought these artists to Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and Finland between 1760 and 1773. Entertainments offered were plentiful and varied:  they danced on ropes, performed acrobatics, lifted iron rods with their hair, played the flute, and taught dancing. They also augmented their income by selling goods of various kinds.4 This chapter looks into some aspects of the performing women’s contributions to performance history in general, but more specifically it focuses on the case studies’ traceability and visibility in historical records. It aims to point out some structures and conventions that have contributed to their ‘being less visible’, or even visible in a less respectable manner, or even framed as sexual objects.

Researching itinerant female artists For today’s researcher, female itinerancy offers obstacles because there is notably little research conducted in the area in general. However, gender roles have been a topic of interest in international dance scholarship in the last decades. The book Women’s Work: Making Dance in Europe before 1800 edited by Brooks does not investigate itinerant artists in particular but addresses female activities of many different types and in many different areas: women as dancers, choreographers, teachers, directors, and employers. Two other books worth mentioning take into consideration travelling women, looking into the aspects of having to make additional money alongside performing. Claudia Puschmann’s volume from 1999, Fahrende Frauenzimmer:  Zur Geschichte der Frauen an deutschen Wanderbühnen (1670–​1760) deals with sociocultural aspects of female performers. Margaret A.  Katritzky’s Women, Medicine and Theatre, 1500–​1750: Literary Mountebanks and Performing Quacks looks at how itinerant women combined alternative careers –​often in the form of medical services  –​alongside a variety of performing activities. Alongside these, valuable information on itinerancy in the Nordic countries can be found in a number of books.5 However, as helpful as this literature is for putting together a larger picture, scrutinising itinerant artists, both women and men, means digging into archival sources –​as I have done for the preparation of this chapter. Finnish theatre historian Svein Hirn has pointed out that the types of source material available will to a great extent determine the content of a historical study.6 This is certainly true for the current chapter. A poster collection revealed in the Regional State Archives in Trondheim, my own hometown, has sparked my interest in itinerancy, of both female and male artists and also ensembles.7 This collection of posters, contracts, and other material allows for a unique insight into some aspects of travelling artists, especially regarding types of repertory, travel routes, venues, and ticket prices. Information about repertory and dates of performances can also be inferred from notices and advertisements in Danish, Swedish, and Norwegian newspapers.8 Printed and handwritten materials include copies of applications and theatre records as well as entries in

158  Anne Margrete Fiskvik church record books. For this chapter, the above-​mentioned material collection in the state archives of Trondheim has served as a good starting point, supplied with the use of newspapers and church books. However, several obstacles remain when trying to find more information on my chosen female artists and their itinerancy.

Tracing biographical information on De Preussiske Kunstnerinder Female artists are simply less visible in the source material, according to Brooks: Women have been difficult to capture as historical realities. They appear far less often than men as players in the documented historical record. Somewhat surprisingly, this is true also in the historical record of dance, a field currently closely associated with women.9 My investigation is supportive of Brooks’s claim with respect to biographical information. A  major obstacle when trying to make the women researched in this chapter emerge from the historical records is the tracing of basic biographical information, such as dates, places of births and deaths, and first and maiden names. Dates are also missing; thus far, no dates or places of birth or death of this chapter’s women have been traced, largely because of the lack of first and maiden names. For instance, the ensemble De Preussiske Kunstnerinder most likely consisted of from three to five Prussian female artists. Posters for the Preussiske Kunstnerinder stated that the ensemble consisted of female performers, so the gender is at least clear. The word Kunstnerinder translates as ‘female artists’, and this was the conventional way of addressing women artists. When the ensemble visited Trondheim in the summer of 1760, neither their first nor last names were listed or mentioned in preserved material such as posters or applications. Stiftamtmanden –​the governor general –​named them ‘the so-​ called’ Prussian women.10 Thus, the supposed origin of the ensemble was even at this time considered vague, something that makes the archival work even more complicated because it is unclear in which part of Europe one can find relevant archival material. Even if the governor general  –  ​was not convinced of the true origins of the ensemble, this did not stand in the way of accepting the application. Permission was granted, and the ensemble gave around 20 performances during the summer of 1760.11 De Preussiske Kunstnerinder announced through posters that they would be performing various artistic numbers as can be seen on posters preserved from 1760 (Figure 8.1).12 The programme lists a ladder dance (Stieg-​ballet) with three persons, and announces other dances and acrobatics as well. Often a concert would be announced to take place between acts. For this the Stadsmusikant (the town musician) would be responsible, as these were conventional rights bestowed

Itinerant female performers  159

Figure 8.1 Poster for performances 16–8 July 1760 by De Preussiske Kunstnerinder, announcing a variety of acrobatic feats and dance numbers. Statsarkivet i Trondheim (The Regional State Archives in Trondheim). Reprinted with kind permission.

upon him. The presence and contribution of the town musician was common for all itinerant performances, at least in the town of Trondheim. The women in this ensemble cannot be traced through having a specific repertory, which can sometimes facilitate archival work because of outstanding

160  Anne Margrete Fiskvik features. Maria Scaglia was, for instance, claiming to be the strongest woman in the world, something that makes her somewhat easier to trace, as we can see further below. De Preussiske Kunstnerinder announced that they would show ‘artistic feats previously never seen’ –​but this was a typical phrase used in posters of itinerant artists.13 It was probably used to evoke interest and thus draw a larger audience. There is a promise of variation in the numbers every day as well as of the occasional Nachspiel or after-​play. The use of their bodies is described, stating that they would be showing off different bodily positions.14 Part of the announced repertory was typical of acrobat and circus numbers of the day. Similar phrases can be seen in other source material describing both women and men in numbers that require a great deal of flexibility as well as strength. Emphasis on bodily twists and turns was thus rather typical. One of the specialities of De Preussiske Kunstnerinder was, for instance, the stretching of the body into rather extreme positions.15 De Preussiske Kunstnerinder is listed and treated as one group in the documents that exist at the Regional State Archives in Trondheim. This is a typical feature of itinerancy, as argued by Katritzky: ‘Information about women travelling with the troupes is elusive and often equivocal, as supplications rarely name more than the troupe leader himself and occasionally other actors’.16 Women would be mentioned more in passing, accidentally, when part of a larger family ensemble:  ‘Accompanying family, servants and other dependents are exceptionally alluded to en passant, as when a troupe leader cites the need to feed a large entourage to strengthen his request for permission to perform’.17 Thus, according to Katritsky, the lack of biographical information is more striking for itinerant artists who travelled in ensembles. An example of a mention of en passant in my source material can be seen with Madam Stuart, who is mentioned in an accounting document of a performance given for the poor. The expenses for the services of a wigmaker are listed in this document.18 Madam Stuart was, however, much less anonymous than the members of the ensemble of the De Preussiske Kunstnerinder, as can be seen below.

Tracing biographical information on the Mesdames Nürenbach, Scaglia, and Stuart The tracing of biographical information is a little different for each of the female artists examined in this chapter. Anna Catharina Nürenbach, or Madam Nürenbach, was active in Christiania (Oslo) in the beginning of the 1770s. Her first and maiden names are known, as this information has been identified by Swedish theatre scholars through examining passport records for travels of Swedish itinerant theatre ensembles. Anna Catharina Nürenbach often used her maiden name Rancke, the name she used during her career as an actress.19 For the Mesdames Stuart and Scaglia, finding first and maiden names has taken some archival digging, mainly because of the conventional use of ‘Madam’. Stuart, Scaglia, and Nürenbach were customarily called ‘Madam’ in source material, such as advertisements and posters. The three women have

Itinerant female performers  161 regularly been mentioned in sources on Nordic theatre and dance as ‘Madam’ without first names, and they have been described as part of the ensemble of husbands, despite the fact that they also were performers on their own. Thus, their married names are often known through the work of their husbands. Madam Scaglia is an exception, as she was the major attraction in their partnership, but most likely she used her husband’s surname, which makes it more challenging to find information on her. When female artists were titled ‘Madam’, it was probably an act of conventional respect. It was customary, not only for artists but also for all married women as well as for widows. Nevertheless, this convention makes female artists less traceable. With the customary omission of first names, these women have continued to be mentioned as ‘Madam’, or referred to as the wives of their performing spouses. In contrast, as a rule, the first names of husbands are given. Martin Nürenbach and Michael Stuart were regularly mentioned in advertisements, posters, and applications; Petrus Scaglia is mentioned in newspaper material alongside Madam Scaglia. Consequently, first names of women as well as other biographical information often have to be discovered through additional sources. For instance, Madam Scaglia’s first name, Maria, was not stated in advertisements or on posters. Danish police records regarding applications to perform noted that a strong woman, Maria Scaglia, was denied permission to perform by the police in Copenhagen in 1767. This information was noted by a historian working with police records from the eighteenth century, and I found the name when studying this record.20 I  have not been able to trace additional biographical information on Maria Scaglia, but her whereabouts in the Nordic countries are at least partly revealed through newspapers and posters. Madam Stuart is the woman for whom the most biographical information is known. She was Michael Stuart’s third wife; thus, one can speculate about her origin most likely being Danish or perhaps German, since he worked in Denmark as well as in Germany.21 In public material, such as posters and advertisements, she is always called ‘Madam Stuart’. This goes for the period when she was travelling and performing with her husband, as well as for the years after his death in Christiania (Oslo) in 1770. However, in Norwegian dance and theatre history she has continued to be called ‘Madam Stuart’. More biographical information has been found on her due to more in-​depth archival searches, mostly through entries in church records. The fact that she gave birth to, as well as buried, several children and also attended the obligatory Communion has been confirmed by church books. Customarily, women and men attended communion where they resided, even if they did not settle for long. Marriages were also listed. Madam Stuart’s first and maiden names Christina Doreothea, née Heidenberg, were entered into a church protocol in the Norwegian town Kristiansand in 1769.22 This information was found by a colleague of mine working on the assumption that the Stuarts performed in Kristiansand in 1769. In this church protocol, Christina Doreothea Stuart is listed as mother, alongside the name of the father, Michael Stuart, as parents of

162  Anne Margrete Fiskvik a newly baptised son. Her first name is also found in protocols for communion in Christiania some years later.23 Her last name Stuart emerges in relation to burials of her children in Christiania. In these last two examples, her full name is omitted, and she is titled ‘Enche’ (widow) of her late husband, Michael Stuart. She remained in Christiania until at least 1773 when she was last registered for the above-​mentioned customary Communion. Through advertisements it is also known that she performed in Gothenburg in April 1774, probably travelling between Gothenburg and Christiania, as this was a common pathway for itinerant artists of the time.24 The latest known evidence of Christina Doreothea Stuart’s whereabouts is in relation to the burial of her son Friedrich in Christiania in December 1774.25 Despite the fact that her full name has been found, it has not been possible to trace her life before her marriage. It is not known where or when she was born or of what nationality she was.

Emerging from the shadows of husbands The visibility of Christina Doreothea Stuart Female itinerant artists often seemingly seem to have operated in the shadows of their husbands. At least this is so in some archival material. Katritzky points out that ‘neither the presence nor the duties of actors’ wives are revealed in routine archival documents’.26 According to Katritzky, women were less visible, despite the fact that they performed alongside their spouses. Moreover, female artists took other roles when they were ‘out of work’ because of pregnancies and childbirths. On the continent, records show that the wives could be responsible for collecting the money at the door when they were pregnant, and women could also provide costumes and props.27 If we look at the Stuarts, some of Katritzky’s claims are correct, but the picture is more varied. Christina Doreothea Stuart had travelled and performed together with Michael Stuart in Denmark, Norway, and Sweden before she was widowed in Christiania in 1770. Prior to arriving in Trondheim, the couple had already spent almost two years in Bergen. Christina Doreothea is not listed in the Bergen advertisements for a large part of the autumn of 1768, when most likely she was unable to work because of childbirth. She appears in an advertisement around Christmas time, where it is stated that she will entertain audiences with a specially written carol.28 From December until April 1768, the couple advertised in the local newspaper Efterretninger fra Adresse-​Contoiret i Bergen i Norge, where the text mentions Michael Stuart first, as the well-​known equilibrist, with Christina Doreothea listed next to him in and, coming across as a rather equal partner, she is described as the famous Madam Stuart.29 Each notice in the paper mentions her specific contribution as the playing of instruments or the teaching of dance.30 The situation for the posters from the collection in Trondheim is different: on those Madam Stuart is listed close to the bottom, whereas her husband is listed

Itinerant female performers  163 at the top. Posters announced that the world-​famous Michael Stuart (stated at the top of the advertisement) describing her as the famous Madam Stuart (mentioned at the bottom of the poster) had arrived in Trondheim. Michael Stuart was announced as the star of the ensemble and it is true that he was an internationally known performer.31 This shows that, at least in the Bergen newspaper, Madam Stuart was not invisible, but was described as more equal to her husband, even if he was mentioned first. It would also seem that they did not play competing roles in the small family ensemble. It was her spouse who was the star attraction of the ensemble as a supposedly world famous equilibrist, but Christina Doreothea was a performer on her own, playing instruments and also teaching dance. It was only after her husband’s death that Christina Doreothea Stuart emerged as a skilled performer of acrobatic feats and slack-​ wire dancing, as can be seen in newspaper advertisements from Christiania between 1770 and 1772. Nevertheless, as will be discussed later in this chapter, she fell into the shadow of yet another man when she entered into a new performance partnership with equilibrist Martin Nürenbach. The visibility of Maria Scaglia Between 1767 and 1769, Nordic audiences had the pleasure of being entertained by Maria Scaglia, or ‘Madam Scaglia’ as she was called in advertisements and posters. Her performances had astonished audiences in Odense, Copenhagen, and several other Nordic cities and towns. She performed in Christiania in 1768 and Trondheim and Gothenburg in 1769.32 The poster material claimed that Maria Scaglia came from Corsica, and not only did she supposedly have the strength of a man, she was also able to lift heavy iron rods with her hair, and she could tolerate heavy weights upon her body. She supposedly had a Turkish horse with six legs plus several Italian dogs in tow. According to Danish theatre historian Carl Bruun, Madam Scaglia was assisted by her husband Petrus, who was a magician. In Swedish advertisements, he is called by the more Scandinavian name Petter.33 In the advertisement Maria Scaglia is listed as the main performer and her husband is mentioned further down on the posters; she was the head of this enterprise.34 The visibility of Anna Catharina Rancke Nürenbach According to Swedish theatre historian Johan Flodmark, Anna Catharina Rancke and spouse Martin Nürenbach had met in the Stenborg theatre ensemble.35 This ensemble operated in both Sweden and Finland. Prior to marrying Martin Nürenbach, she went by the name Anna Catharina Rancke with an independent career as an actress and a dance teacher.36 Biographical information can be found through church archives:  the couple married in Helsinki in 1768 and had a son who died shortly after birth.37 Anna Catharina Nürenbach continued to act and teach dance together with her husband in Sweden, Norway, and Finland.The couple’s activities in Norway

164  Anne Margrete Fiskvik can be tracked through a number of advertisements in the Nordske Intelligenz-​ Sedler listing the activities of Martin Nürenbach during his stay between 1770 and 1773. It is possible that the couple stayed in Christiania and even gave performances without advertising them in the newspaper. However, the visibility of Anna Catharina in Norwegian sources is mostly due to her husband. The mentioning of her specifically is limited to a single notice in the newspaper Nordske Intelligenz-​Sedler, stating that Madam Nürenbach would teach dance while her husband was away.38 She is however mentioned in sources that deal with her husband, and later in this chapter it can also be seen that she is mentioned as being a dance teacher in Finland. After the above-​ mentioned stay in Norway from 1770 to 1773, the Nürenbach couple relocated to Sweden and then settled in Finland. Perhaps because she was an independent actress before she married, she did not always change her surname in advertisements. She was nevertheless always mentioned with the prefix ‘Madam’, either ‘Madam Rancke’ or ‘Madam Nürenbach’.

Visibility through making additional money from selling goods and teaching dance From the winter of 1772, Christina Doreothea Stuart faced newly imposed restrictions on theatre, which must have made her life especially difficult. She lost her performing income and she had young children to take care of; very likely her financial position was grim. Newspaper announcements show that she made a living selling various goods, something that was quite common among itinerant artists. She announced, for instance, in the autumn of 1771 that she was selling, among other things, home-​brewed beer.39 According to Katritzky, women artists almost always had additional occupations:  alongside selling goods, they often performed medical favours and were so-​called quacks.40 Katrizky mentions several examples ‒ for instance, the female artist and ensemble leader Elisabeth Steinz, who arrived in Erding, Bavaria in November 1770. She had been granted a two-​week license from the police authorities of Munich, giving her permission to practise medicine as well as her ensemble permission to stage theatrical performances. Steinz thus performed on a stage in the market place, as well as practising medical and surgical skills in private home visits.41 Some of the women Katritzky has researched were well received and appreciated by both the customers and the authorities. But often they were seen as competitors to local doctors, so they met with resistance and disrespect as well.Thus, according to Katritzky, how women in female itinerancy were treated by society depended largely on the different roles they played.42 One can imagine that this was true for the women discussed in this chapter. A much cited source in Norwegian theatre history has, for instance, described female members of the first theatre ensemble in Norway in a rather derogatory way.43 As we have seen, another typical way of making additional money for itinerant artists, both women and men, was through the teaching of dance.

Itinerant female performers  165 This was the case for Christina Doreothea Stuart as well as Anna Catharina Nürenbach.44 The latter left Norway together with her husband only a few months after obtaining royal permission to perform theatre in Christiania. The Nürenbach‒Stuart enterprise ended abruptly, most likely because of new and more strictly enforced theatre rules. As mentioned above, the Nürenbach couple left Norway in the early spring of 1773 to resume their itinerant performance career. In Finland, an attempt to create a Finnish theatre ensemble failed. This failure has been credited to Nürenbach alone, even though it is likely that his wife was part of this attempt as well.45 Anna Catharina Nürenbach became a widow in 1780 and at some point after this she started a career as a dance teacher in the town of Pori.46 Teaching dance was, as already mentioned, a common activity for itinerant artists, and ambulant performers often pursued a career as dance teachers if they settled down. Teaching dance was perhaps regarded as a more respectable career for a woman than itinerant performing, given that negative attitudes towards performing artists, not least towards women, were common. However, this somewhat better status cannot be confirmed in my source material. Prejudice towards dance teachers was also common, especially towards male ones, according to historian Eva Helen Ulvros. Male teachers could be womanisers and drunks, sometimes violent.47 Anna Catharina Nürenbach figures in a somewhat negative way in an autobiography of a young theology student Pehr Stenberg, but not because she was an alcoholic or violent: during his dancing lessons he felt that she was too keen to dance with him. ‘Fru Nyrenback’ (as he spells her name) helped Stenberg’s dancing to improve, but he was bothered by what he thought was an intense interest in him.48 He mentions that she had just become a widow and that he was puzzled that during all the minuets and contra dances she kept asking him, and nobody else, to dance. He felt he had no choice in the matter, that he could not decline, because that would have been rude. Anna Catharina Nürenbach does not come off in a positive light in these rather anecdotal writings by Stenberg, which describe his perceived behaviour of the widow. Nevertheless, the situation for a widow like Nürenbach who had children to support would have been financially challenging; therefore, it would not be so far-​fetched if she was looking to find another husband. But regardless of what her aim may have been, it is clear that the way Stenberg has described her has created a negative impression of her personality.

Application procedures and their importance for traceability and visibility One of the typical obstacles for itinerant artists was that they had to obtain local permissions to perform in each town visited.49 This was practised in different ways, usually through an application addressed to the town’s magistrate office. The police could also play a role in this, as described above in the case of Maria Scaglia. According to Rune Windfeld, who has written about the Danish police system between 1684 and 1771, it was part of the role of the

166  Anne Margrete Fiskvik police to protect Norwegian‒Danish holders of privileges against competition. The reasons for granting or denying permissions varied in Denmark‒Norway, as well as in Sweden‒Finland, according to the attitudes of current regimes towards itinerancy. Two conflicting policies can be seen: the authorities would find it positive that people of all social classes were able to attend affordable entertainment, but at the same time there was a reluctance to foster people who stood the chance of not being able to take care of themselves financially, as itinerancy did not provide a steady income. There was also a fear that itinerant artists would move money out of the country, money that ideally should be spent in the country where it was earned.50 In light of this, application procedures were cumbersome for all travelling performers, both men and women. Women were at this time not independent in Denmark‒Norway; they needed male guardians to act on their behalf in legal matters such as applications. The guardian was typically the woman’s father or husband, or some other male relative. Should a woman remain unmarried, once the father was dead, a guardian had to be found.51 Maria Scaglia was announced as the leading star of the Scaglia enterprise, but she was still dependent on her husband. In 1769 she was granted permission to perform in Trondheim through an application signed by her husband, Petrus Scaglia.52 Even though Petrus Scaglia’s role seems to have been that of an assistant to his wife, he signed the documents, and it is his name that is mentioned by the authorities of Trondheim. The two of them were first granted permission to perform for 14 days, and later the application was renewed for another month.53 This is also an example of the contemporary use of first and last names: Petrus Scaglia’s first and last names are known because his name and signature was on the application, whereas Maria Scaglia was known only as ‘Madam Scaglia’. As such she has remained less traceable in historical records. To what extent the application procedures restricted female performers remains a topic that needs more investigation and the finding of more relevant documents. Theatre historian Claudia Puschmann has pointed out that this picture is not so clear-​cut. Applications were typically signed by men outside of the Nordic countries and also on the continent. However, according to Puschmann, being a woman could also be used as a means to obtain leniency. She has pointed out that it was not unusual that male leaders of ensembles devolved responsibility to their wives, because the civic authorities would sometimes give female troupe leaders better treatment.54 Moreover, pregnancies and childbirths were often used as arguments when applying for prolonged permissions for itinerant artists.55 These applications were sometimes granted, and at other times they were turned down, especially when the authorities detected ‘foul play’. Katritzky mentions an example where an actor applied to extended play and stayed because his wife was about to give birth. This was turned down because the wife had initially applied for permission as the sole female leader of the troupe, whereas in truth both she and her husband were leaders. The wife, whose name was Victoria Beneke, later took over the sole responsibility when her husband died.56

Itinerant female performers  167 Margaret A. Katritzky has in fact argued that women performers could have more power than what is typically assumed, based on what is known about their legal status. She mentions both the Velten and Neuber ensembles and the high status of women in these. On the continent, English and German troupes were often co-​funded and co-​led by both parties of a married couple. ‘This was not just an occasional aberration of better-​known troupes; archival records indicate that a significant proportion of troupes at every level were routinely co-​led by married couples’.57 For instance, the well-​known Eckenberg troupe, which also visited the Nordic countries, turned in applications to perform by both husband Johann Carl Eckenberg and wife Cornelia Eckenbergin.58 However, at the same time Katritzky claims that the Eckenberg example seems to represent a high point in eighteenth-​century female troupe leadership.59 To what degree the tendency of filing double applications was present in the Nordic countries needs more investigation, but several itinerant theatre ensembles were led by women, for instance, Margareta Seuerling, who took over the Carl Gottfrid Seuerlings’ Seuerlingske Comodie-​Trupp after her husband’s death in 1780.60 Moreover, privileges could be passed on to spouses, but applications were still needed every time performers moved between towns, cities, and countries, and even if an application was successful one time, it could be turned down the next, according to Swedish theatre historian Birger Schöldström.61 An example of less visibility for women in applications can be seen in the case of Christina Doreothea Stuart and Anna Catharina Nürenbach, whose names are omitted in a well-​known application regarding a theatre privilege. Stuart, who was widowed in Christiania in 1770, operated on her own after her husband died. Together with Anna Catharina Rancke and Martin Nürenbach a project was created that involved a well-​known application for royal privilege.The three had already joined forces. An advertisement from October 1771 presents Stuart and Nürenbach as equal partners for a joint performance.62 The small ensemble became the first to successfully obtain a royal privilege in Norway to stage ‘Comoedier’ (plays) in the Danish language.63 Even though both Christina Doreothea Stuart and Anna Catharina Nürenbach were part of this first theatre enterprise, they have not been credited as founders or even as members of the ensemble. This ensemble was the first to obtain royal theatre privilege in Norway, and the event has consequently been given much attention in various books on Norwegian and Nordic theatre history. However, it has always been Martin Nürenbach who has been mentioned and credited for the application. Without the signatures of the women it has always been assumed that Nürenbach was the sole manager and initiator, even if the application lists female performers as members.64 The reason why the Mesdames Stuart and Rancke did not sign the application could be complex. Most likely Nürenbach was following the customs of male responsibility. Nevertheless, it is an example of women becoming less visible because their names were omitted in written material. The theatre ensemble did not last, most likely because of stricter rules for staging theatre and for theatre in general. A  new and stricter version of the

168  Anne Margrete Fiskvik existing 1738 Theatre Act was introduced in Denmark‒Norway in 1772. This reinforcement made life more difficult for all itinerant performers. The new anti-​theatre law did not allow singing, dancing, or acrobatic in public, resulting, in fact, in a cecessation of almost all public entertainment.65

Visibility and traceability according to expectations of gender Obviously, all artists strived to get an audience for their performances. Itinerant artists, both women and men, were announced through advertisements in the newspapers, posters containing entire programmes, smaller flyers, and verbal announcements.66 The repertory was similar for both men and women: dancing on wires, ropes and ladders, acrobatic feats, dancing in various styles, and dance lessons. Musical numbers with a variety of instruments were also common; acrobatics and tumbling skills were the core elements of itinerant performances, alongside pantomimes and plays with limited spoken dialogue.67 According to the Italian‒British dancing master Giovanni-​Andrea Gallini (1762), these technically demanding styles were designed to entertain the audience.68 Thus, the programmes were created around expectations for spectator entertainment, and the women discussed in this chapter advertised their business in newspapers and on posters in a similar fashion to men. Similar phrasings and wordings were used in order to create expectations of something special to be experienced. Special features were pointed out, as seen in the announcements on posters for De Preussiske Kunstnerinder. The women would show ‘artistic feats previously never seen’ –​a typical phrase in posters of itinerant artists probably used to evoke interest and thus draw a larger audience. There is a promise of variation in the numbers every day as well as a promise of the occasional Nachspiel or after-​play. The use of their bodies is described in the posters; it is stated that they would be showing off different bodily positions.69 Part of the announced repertory was typical of acrobat and circus numbers of the day. Similar phrases can be seen in other source material describing both women and men in feats that require a great deal of flexibility as well as strength. Emphasis on bodily twists and turns was thus rather typical. One of the specialities of De Preussiske Kunstnerinder was the stretching of the body into rather extreme positions. Promising that spectators would be able to see bodies bent in all shapes and forms were phrases that typically described both female and male performing. Women and men alike constructed their performance identities around their particular skills rather than around gender. Maria Scaglia’s forte was that she was unusually strong, stronger than men, even; in fact, she claimed to be the strongest woman in the world.The posters announced that she, despite her small, delicate, and feminine stature, could astonish her audiences, thus challenging female roles. Also on the programme were dancing animals and Petrus Scaglia presenting magical feats. Maria Scaglia was the main attraction: lengthy descriptions of her skills can be found in various sources from Norway, Sweden, and Denmark.70 The advertisements of Scaglia’s 1768 performances in Christiania are typical

Itinerant female performers  169 and emphasised her ability to astonish audiences. On 20 July it was announced in the local paper that Madam Scaglia, from Corsica had arrived in the town and that she possessed the strength of a man. Similarly, her unusual strength was proclaimed on posters for the already mentioned Trondheim performances a year later. For instance, she could lift heavy items, even by her hair.71 For both De Preussiske Kunstnerinder and Maria Scaglia, the foreign aspect was most likely also used as an asset; being Prussian or Corsican was surely more exciting than being Nordic.

Female itinerant artists emerging from the records This chapter has looked into the issue of the visibility and traceability of some selected female itinerant ensembles and artists: De Preussiske Kunstnerinder and the Mesdames Nürenbach, Scaglia, and Stuart.According to Brooks, female artists have been less visible in the source material and this chapter has investigated this notion through looking into some known female artists who travelled in the Nordic countries. The question of visibility in the sources is however complex and not one-​sided, something that I have tried to show in this chapter. A typical inequality between men’s and women’s visibility can be seen in the hiding of first names due to the use of ‘Madam’. When women are mentioned by name, first names are left out, which makes it more challenging to find relevant information about them. Women artists are also less mentioned in relevant sources, according to Brooks.72 Again the picture is complex, because not only gender but also perceived fame and notions about who is the better artist play a role. Christina Doreothea Stuart is an example of this complexity: she is mentioned second to her husband, both of whom are described as world-​famous in newspaper advertisements, at the same time as being listed at the end of the posters. Her skills are listed as non-​competitive to those of her husband; once he was dead, she started performing the same equilibrist feats that he had done, announcing these in the Christiania newspaper.73 What is typical is that posters and advertisements indicate that women served as dancers, actors, musicians, acrobats, tightrope artists, and dancing masters in the same manner as men do. Perhaps most importantly, the attractivity of each artist was connected with his or her personal skills. True to conventions, the allegedly more famous performer was given the most attention, regardless of gender:  Anna Catharina Nürenbach and Christina Doreothea Stuart, however, operated in the shadow of their husbands before becoming widows. Maria Scaglia was forefronted more than her husband Petrus on posters and in advertisements. Their popularity or success during their own time does not secure visibility as historical figures. This is not only because of gender, but more due to a lack of research of itinerant entertainment. In terms of traceability, this must be seen in relation to the conventions of the time. Even if female itinerant artists who visited and worked in the Nordic countries were able to advertise their skills in the same manner as men, they

170  Anne Margrete Fiskvik did not have the legal right to operate without the consent of a male guardian. Women’s ability to act on their own behalf was more limited than was the case for male itinerant artists, as can be seen in the right to sign contracts and applications. Women were the ones to become pregnant, and working alongside husbands, becoming pregnant, and taking care of children was part of the structure of itinerant ensembles. It is important to point out that itinerancy poses some general research problems regardless of gender. Ambulant artists have, despite bringing entertainment to numerous spectators in their own time, often been situated outside of the dance, music, and theatre canon. More recent research has revealed that there is a wealth of materials and links that can be investigated to shed light on performance activities within Norwegian and Nordic dance and theatre history. Their hybrid forms of entertainment –​performances often containing dance, theatre, and acrobatics –​tend to have been regarded as of little consequence and interest to mainstream dance and theatre research. By investigating female artists’ itinerancy, new light and perspectives can be shed on their practices and repertories in a time period when ambulant performing provided work possibilities that otherwise were not available. For instance, more research is needed into what degree the conventional dependency on men as guardians might have restricted the performance possibilities of Scaglia, Stuart, and Nürenbach. It is to be hoped that female itinerant performers can be reinstated as historical figures, and that more research will reveal more about their practices, conditions, and social status.

Notes 1 Dahlberg, Komediantteatern, 14; Flodmark, Stenborgska skådebanorna, 54; Parmer, Teater på Fredrikshald, 54. 2 Brooks, Women’s Work, 1. 3 Ibid. 4 For more information on these types of popular entertainments, see Bonnet, Histoire générale de la danse, 162, and Speaight, A History of the Circus,  13–​18. 5 Some of these sources offer overviews, as in Dahlberg, Komediantteatern, and Rosenqvist, Teater i Mittnorden. Others, like Flodmark, Stenborgska skådebanorna and Hirn, Teater i Viborg 1743–​1879, trace specific ensembles or cities. 6 Hirn, ibid., 7. 7 Offentlige skuespill & forestillinger (Public plays and performances), Statsarkivet i Trondheim. 8 During the time in question (latter part of the eighteenth century), there were only three printed newspapers in Norway:  Nordske Intelligenz-​Seddeler, Efterretninger fra Adresse-​Contoiret i Bergen i Norge, and Trondhiems Adresse-​Contoirs Efterretninger. The number of newspapers in Denmark and Sweden was much higher, and references can, for instance, be found in Swedish newspapers such as Stockholmsposten, Götheborgska Nyheter, and Hwad Nytt, Hwad Nytt. 9 Brooks, Women’s Work, 1. 10 Skavlan, Kulturbilleder,  79–​80.

Itinerant female performers  171 11 Application documents regarding the De Preussiske Kunstnerinder 1760’s visit found in Offentlige skuespill & forestillinger (Public plays and performances), Statsarkivet i Trondheim. 12 Application documents regarding the Scaglias visit, see ibid. 13 Bonnet, Histoire générale de la danse, 162. 14 Poster for De Preussiske Kunstnerinder, 1760. Offentlige skuespill & forestillinger (Public plays and performances), Statsarkivet i Trondheim. 15 Ibid. 16 Katritzky, Women, Medicine and Theatre, 270. 17 Ibid. 18 Poster for the Stuarts’ performances in Trondheim, 5 May 1769. Offentlige skuespill & forestillinger (Public plays and performances), Statsarkivet i Trondheim. 19 Flodmark, Stenborgska skådebanorna, 13. 20 Windfeld, ‘Politiinstitutionens rolle’, 99–​101. 21 For information on Michael Stuart, see Overskou, Den danske Skueplads; Cross, By the Banks of Neva, 39; Huitfeldt, Christiania Theaterhistorie,  81–​89. 22 Ministerialbok A 2, 1755–​78, 30 October 1769, 344–​345, Statsarkivet i Kristiansand. 23 The communion was noted for the inhabitants of Christiania in a special protocol today known as Oslo Domkirkes Kommunikantprotokoll.The entry for 1771 in the protocol for 1767–​1775 describes her as widow (‘Enche’): ‘Januar. Stuart, Christina Doreothea, Enche’, Statsarkivet i Oslo. 24 Götheborgska Nyheter, 17 February 1769, announced performances in Gothenburg. 25 The death of Friedrich is stated in Oslo Domkirkes kommunikantprotokoll 1773, 10.12, 777; Friderich Stuart, Statsarkivet i Oslo. 26 Katritzky, Women, Medicine and Theatre, 271. 27 Ibid. 28 Announcement in Efterretninger fra Adresse-​Contoiret i Bergen i Norge 50, 12 December 1768. 29 Ibid. 30 Announcements in Efterretninger fra Adresse-​Contoiret i Bergen i Norge, January‒March 1769. 31 Poster, 5 May 1769. Offentlige skuespill & forestillinger (Public plays and performances), Statsarkivet i Oslo. 32 Nordske Intelligenz-​Sedler announced performances in Christiania; Götheborgska Nyheter, 17 February 1769, announced performances in Gothenburg. 33 Bruun, Kjøbenhavn, 376–​8; Götheborgska Nyheter, 17 February 1769. 34 Ibid. 35 Flodmark: Stenborgska skådebanorna, 13, 51–​56. 36 Ibid.; Hirn, ‘Martin Nyrenbach: teaterpionjær?’, 262. 37 Ibid. 38 Nordske Intelligenz-​Sedler 23, 5 June 1771. 39 Ibid. 40, 2 October 1771. 40 Katritzky, Women, Medicine and Theatre, 280. 41 Ibid. 42 Ibid. 43 ‘Pro Memoria’, Rentekammeret, Riksarkivet. 44 Christina Doreothea Stuart announced the teaching of dance both in Bergen in 1769 and in Christiania in 1770‒1772. The only known advertisement for Anna

172  Anne Margrete Fiskvik Catharina Nürenbach’s teaching has been found in Nordske Intelligenz-​Sedler 23, 5 June 1771. 45 Hirn, ‘Martin Nyrenbach: teaterpionjær?’, 261–​2. 46 Ibid., 261. 47 Ulvros, Dansens och tidens virvlar, 24‒25. 48 ‘Fru’ is ‘Madam’ in Scandinavian languages. Stenberg, Pehr Stenbergs levernesbeskrivning, 343–​4. 49 For more on the different theatre prohibitions and law enforcements in Denmark‒Norway, see Svein Gladsø, Teater mellom jus og politikk,  8–​16. 50 This way of thinking was typical of the mercantile system, which, according to Windfeld, dominated at the time. Windfeld, ‘Politiinstitutionens rolle’, 99. See also Holmsen, Kristiania Politi, 184–​5. 51 Lønnå, ‘Kvinners rettigheter i Norge’, Store norske leksikon, accessed 1 August 2019, snl.no/​Kvinners_​rettigheter_​i_​Norge_​fra_​1814_​til_​1913. 52 Trondheim Stifts kopibok (Letter book for Trondheim diocese) 2 June 1769, after Hornemann, [Udkast], 2, Statsarkivet i Trondheim. 53 Ibid. 54 Puschmann, Fahrende Frauenzimmer, 122, 188. 55 For instance, in 1669, Carl Anders Paulsen made an application requesting an extension to their troupe’s performances in Danzig, citing the impossibility of leaving his wife on her own directly after the birth of their son, as making it impossible for him to seek his fortune elsewhere. Katritzky, Women, Medicine and Theatre, 282. 56 Ibid. 57 Ibid., 279. 58 Ibid. 59 Ibid., 282. 60 Schöldström, Seuerling och hans ‘comædietroupp’:  Ett blad ur svenska landsortsteaterns historia, Stockholm, accessed 15 May 2020, www.blf.fi/​artikel.php?ref=sok&id=6825. 61 Ibid. 62 Nordske Intelligenz-​Sedler 41, 9 Ocotober 1771. 63 Huitfeldt, Christiania Theaterhistorie,  81–​89. 64 For more information on this application process, see Fiskvik, ‘Where Highbrow Taste Meets Itinerant Dance’, 83–​107. 65 Gladsø, Teater mellom jus og politikk,  8–​16. 66 Enevig, Cirkus og Gjøgl i Odense,  7–​19. 67 Little is known about where the women addressed in this article had learnt their skills, though it was quite common for children to be trained inside families of itinerant artists. The children would learn acrobatics, tumbling, rope, or wire-​dancing as well as musical skills at an early age and perform as soon as possible. Winter, Pre-​ Romantic Ballet, 34. 68 Gallini, A Treatise,  84–​86. 69 Poster for De Preussiske Kunstnerinder, 1760. Offentlige skuespill & forestillinger (Public plays and performances), Statsarkivet i Trondheim. 70 Götheborgska Nyheter, Nyheter 7, 17 February 1770, 56; see also for posters for Scaglia performances, 4‒8 July 1769, and De Preussiske Kunstnerinder, 1760. Offentlige skuespill & forestillinger (Public plays and performances), Statsarkivet i Trondheim. 71 Huitfeldt, Cristianias Theaterhistorie, 71; posters for Scaglia’s performances, 4–8 July 1769; De Preussiske Kunstnerinder, 1760. Offentlige skuespill & forestillinger (Public plays and performances), Statsarkivet i Trondheim.

Itinerant female performers  173 72 Brooks, Women’s Work, 1. 73 Nordske Intelligenz-​Sedler 38, 18 September 1771.

Bibliography Bonnet, Jacques François. Histoire générale de la danse sacrée et prophane: Son origine, ses progress & ses revolutions. Paris: d’Houry fils, 1723. Reprint, Geneva (Genève): Slatkine Reprints, 1969. Brooks, Lynn Matluck, ed. Women’sf Work:  Making Dance in Europe before 1800. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 2008. Bruun, Carl Alfred. Kjøbenhavn:  En Illustreret skildring. Tredie del. Copenhagen (Kjøbenhavn): Det Nordiske Forlag, 1901. Cross, Anthony Glenn. By the Banks of Neva. Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 1997. Dahlberg, Gunilla. Komediantteatern i 1600-​talets Stockholm. Stockholm: Kommittén för Stockholmsforskning, 1992. Enevig, Anders. Cirkus og gøgl i Odense 1640–​1825. Odense: Odense Universitetsforlag/​ Stadsarkivet i Odense, 1998. Fiskvik, Anne Margrete. ‘Where Highbrow Taste Meets Itinerant Dance in Eighteenth-​ Century Scandinavia: The Dance Entrepreneur Martin Nürenbach’. Sjuttonhundratal: Nordic Yearbook for Eighteenth-​Century Studies 13 (2016): 83–​107. Flodmark, Johan. Stenborgska skådebanorna: Bidrag till Stockholms teaterhistoria. Stockholm: Nordstedt, 1893. Gallini, Giovanni-​Andrea. A Treatise on the Art of Dancing. London: R. Dodsley, 1762. Reprint, London: Dance Books, 2002. Gladsø, Svein. Teater mellom jus og politikk: Studier i norsk teater fra 1700-​tallet til 1940. Oslo: Unipub, 2005. Guest, Ivor. The Ballet of the Enlightenment:  The Establishment of the Ballet d’Action in France, 1770–​1793. Princeton, NJ: Princeton Book Company Publishers, 1997. Hirn, Sven. ‘Martin Nyrenbach:  Teaterpionjær?’. Nordisk Tidsskrift 90 (1967): 261–​8. –––. Teater i Viborg 1743–​1879. Helsingfors: Svenska Litteratursällskapet i Finland, 1970. Holmsen, Paul. Kristiania Politis Historie 1624–​1884. Oslo (Kristiania): W.C. Fabritius, 1884. Huitfeldt, Henrik Jørgen. Christiania Theaterhistorie. Copenhagen (København): Gyldendal, 1876. Katritzky. Margaret A. Women, Medicine and Theatre, 1500–​1750:  Literary Mountebanks and Performing Quacks. London: Ashgate, 2007. Lønnå, Elisabeth. Kvinners rettigheter i Norge fra 1814 til 1913. In Store norske leksikon. Accessed 10 April 2019. https://​snl.no/​Kvinners_​rettigheter_​i_​Norge_​fra_​1814_​ til_​1913. Overskou, Thomas. Den danske Skueplads: I dens historie fra de første spor af danske Skuespil indtil vor Tid. Copenhagen (København): Thieles Bogtrykkeri, 1876. Parmer,Vidar. Teater på Fredrikshald. Halden: Halden Kommune, 1967. Puschmann, Claudia. Fahrende Frauenzimmer:  Zur Geschichte der Frauen an deutschen Wanderbühnen (1670–​1760). Herboltzheim: Centaurus Verlag & Media, 1999. Roempke, Gunilla. Vristens makt: Dansös i mätressernas tidevarv. Stockholm: Fisher, 1994.

174  Anne Margrete Fiskvik Rosenqvist, Claes. Teater i Mittnorden under 1800-​talets senare del:  Material, metoder och analyser. Mittnordenprojektets skrifter, Institutionen för litteraturvetenskap med drama-​teater-​film. Umeå: Umeå Press, 1998. Schöldström, Birger. Seuerling och hans ‘comædietroupp’:  Ett blad ur svenska landsortsteaterns historia. Stockholm, 1889. Accessed 15 May 2020. www.blf.fi/​artikel. php?ref=sok&id=6825. Skavlan, Aage. Kulturbilleder fra Norges nyere historie. Oslo (Kristiania):  Albert Cammermeyers Forlag, 1892. Speaight, George. A History of the Circus. London: Tantivy Press, 1980. Stenberg, Pehr. Pehr Stenbergs levernesbeskrivning:  Av honom själv författad på dess lediga stunder. Del 1, 1758–​ 1784. Edited by Fredrik Elgh, Göran Stenberg, and Ola Wennstedt. Umeå: Umeå universitet, Forskningsarkivet, 2014. Ulvros, Eva Helen. Dansens och tidens virvlar:  Om dans och lek i Sveriges historia. Lund: Historiska Media, 2004. Windfeld, Rune Rye. ‘Politiinstitutionens rolle i enevældens magtudøvelse 1682–​1771’. Unpublished diss., University of Copenhagen, 2009. Winter, Marian Hanna. The Pre-Romantic Ballet. London: Pitman, 1974.

Archival sources Riksarkivet (The National Archives of Norway) ‘Pro Memoria’, Resolusjoner 1770–​1774, no. 106; Rentekammeret.

Statsarkivet i Kristiansand (The Regional State Archives in Kristiansand) Ministerialbok (Parish register) A 2, 1755–​78 for Kristiansand domprosti (parish), SAK/​ 1112-​0006/​F/​Fa/​L0002.

Statsarkivet i Oslo (The Regional State Archives in Oslo) Oslo Domkirkes (cathedral) Kommunikantprotokoller (communion protocols).

Statsarkivet i Trondheim (The Regional State Archives in Trondheim) Hornemann, Johan Lebrecht. [Udkast til en Trondhjems Theater-​og Musikhistorie]. Unpublished manuscript. SAT/​PA-​0175. Offentlige skuespill & forestillinger (Public plays and performances). Trondheim magistrat. SAT/​A-​4372/​B/​Bd/​L0003.

9  The hybrid child The preconditions, dissemination, and enduring popularity of equestrian drama Ellen Karoline Gjervan

Introduction The term ‘equestrian drama’, also referred to as hippodrama, used to describe plays that are performed by horses and riders.The trained horses are not used as props or merely as means of propulsion in these plays, rather they are ‘considered as actors, with business, often leading actions, of their own to perform’.1 The cradle of equestrian drama stood in London in the 1780s, where it was nourished in circuses and minor theatres into a flourishing form of popular entertainment by the early nineteenth century.2 Among its fathers were the riding masters Philip Astley and Charles Hughes. While Astley is credited with the invention of the circus, Hughes is reported as the first to combine the ring with a stage. This was a novel feature when he, together with Charles Dibdin, opened the Royal Circus in November 1782, and ‘Astley –​as ready to borrow as he was slow to invent –​adopted their plan of a combined arena and stage’.3 This stage increased in importance with the coming of equestrian drama.4 The equestrian drama was a child of its time, shaped by historical events related to legislative, artistic and socio-​economical aspects of late Georgian and Regency England. Equestrian entertainment as such was, however, not a novelty around 1800. Feats had been displayed on horseback for more than 150 years, although the horses involved had often been wooden or standing still.5 Equine involvement in theatrical displays was also of an earlier date, an example being the carousel, or horse ballet, staged at a royal wedding in Turin in 1650.6 In this chapter, I will discuss equestrian drama as a form of entertainment, which can be expressed in a variety of genres.7 I will begin by taking a look at some of the preconditions for this form of popular entertainment. Why was there, for instance, at this time a surplus of riding masters ready to enter the entertainment business? I will then examine the evolution and dissemination of some types of hippodrama before discussing the enduring interest and popularity of some pieces of the form. Finally, I will consider some possible reasons for the continued popularity of these pieces as well as the form in itself.

176  Ellen Karoline Gjervan

Preconditions for the form The hippodrama spent its infancy in minor theatres in London, being shaped, among other things, by the legal restrictions pertaining to its parent institution. The British Licensing Act of 1737, with its various restrictions, resulted in ‘a curious hybridization of the drama’.8 The hippodrama was one such hybrid child, as it combined theatrical illusion and horsemanship.9 An entertainment form reliant on riding skills needs performers who possess these. As equestrian drama caught on around 1800, there apparently was a surplus of skilled horsemen either ready to join the entertainment business, or already earning their livelihood through performing. Laurence Senelick claims that ‘hippodrama first caught on at the turn of the eighteenth century, possibly because of cavalrymen, riding masters, and stable grooms being made redundant after the continental wars, and the gradual closing of fairs’.10 However, the surplus of cavalrymen, riding masters, and stable grooms started to build up before the wars. When England became a constitutional monarchy in 1688, the spending power of the nobility was considerably curbed.11 This led to a decline in tourneys and jousts among the aristocracy, as it was too costly. According to Maurice Willson Disher, these equestrian activities gave way ‘to riding-​ schools, built by the nobility for the exercise of horsemanship and arms. These, in turn, suffered from the pinch of economy and riding-​masters had to turn showmen’.12 Although not all unemployed riding masters became showmen, there were a growing number of riding masters giving displays of trick riding at home and abroad.13 They would exhibit their horsemanship for a living, for instance, at various fairs. During the eighteenth century, the great London fairs came under government pressure due to their raucousness. As a consequence, some fairs were abolished while others were drastically shortened.14 This meant that less money could be earned as a fairground performer.The riders could recoup their loss of income either by finding more permanent performance venues than the fairs, by touring more extensively, or by quitting the entertainment business altogether.15 During the second half of the 1700s, trick riding became the very latest in popular entertainment in London.16 Thus, new and permanent performance venues came into existence, for instance, in Islington. Here, at Three Hats, the Irish equestrian Thomas Johnson made his debut in 1758 –​performing there at least until 1766.17 In 1767, at rivalling Dobney’s Bowling Green, the equestrian Price drew large audiences to his displays of horsemanship.18 The recently discharged cavalryman Philip Astley also had a short and fruitful internship –​so to speak –​in Islington, enabling him to set up his own enterprise in 1768.19 The enormous popularity of trick riding belonged ‘to a time when everyone either rode or were familiar with horses’.20 Audience members, knowledgeable about riding, knew how difficult the tricks were. The equestrian drama, as it came into being, thus emerged in a theatre and entertainment culture ‘embedded in a horse-​powered society and economy’.21

The hybrid child  177 As not everybody could or would make a living in London, touring was another option  –​either at home or abroad. According to George Speaight, ‘The most famous of the English equestrians to travel abroad was Jacob Bates’.22 Bates  had an illustrious career outside the British Isles, making trick riding popular and profitable on the continent. In 1764 he introduced trick riding to Russia; in 1766 he performed in Nuremberg before organising and performing at the Cirque Équestre in Paris in 1767.23 Around 1770 he toured Scandinavia before visiting the American Colonies in the early 1770s.24 To be an English riding master became a hallmark of quality with continental audiences, a notion that Bates greatly helped to establish.

The evolution and dissemination of equestrian drama The equestrian drama as a form of theatrical entertainment came into being in London, and became exceedingly popular in Europe and North America in the first half of the 1800s.25 The hippodrama’s earliest beginnings were the comical riding scenes, starting with Astley’s performance of The Taylor Riding to Brentford in July 1768.26 This comical riding scene quickly became an export article, as we, for example, find Bates presenting it in New York in 1772 and the English riding master Hyam performing it in Paris in 1775.27 These equestrian pieces soon grew in scope, length, and sumptuousness, establishing equestrian drama in a variety of expressions regarding genre. One such expression of hippodrama was equestrian pantomime. The equestrian pantomime would develop more or less simultaneously in London and Paris. In London, at the Royal Circus and at Astley’s, this particular type of pantomime emerged, which ‘showed foreign cities and unusual events, and reported sensations from around the world’.28 Almost from the get-​go, these pantomimes reported on actual events, such as when, in 1789, the storming of the Bastille was re-​enacted ‘barely three weeks after the event’.29 This aspect of a news report might have been a continuation from older, fairground entertainments. Sybil Rosenfeld states,‘The fair booths also provided the equivalent of our news-​reels by spectacles showing the events of the day’.30 As an example she relates how the Battle of Dettingen was pitchforked into a performance of Richard III at Tottenham Court Fair in 1743, the same year the battle took place.31 In Paris, Astley had opened the first permanent circus in October 1783.32 Here, in December 1788, the equestrian pantomime La bataille et la mort du général Marlborough opened and went on to become a huge success.33 The piece revolved around the historical figure of John Churchill, the first Duke of Marlborough (1650–​1722).34 Our best source to the plot of this equestrian pantomime might well be the lyrics of the popular French folk song: Malbrough s’en va-​t-​en guerre, also known as Mort et convoi de l’invincible Malbrough, which is largely sung to a melody now widely recognised as For he’s a jolly good fellow. The folk song allegedly came into being in 1709, when the general was falsely reported as being killed in battle.35 The song describes how the general’s wife awaits his return from battle, but only the general’s page returns –​all clad in

178  Ellen Karoline Gjervan black. He describes to the widow the particular details of the general’s death and burial –​scenes that could have been played out. The Parisian equestrian pantomimes built on French precedents. The Ambigu-​Comique, a Parisian theatre with fairground pedigree, had by the 1770s built a reputation for pantomimes with dialogue containing carefully choreographed fights on and off horseback, special effects, mass movements of extras and attacks on castles.36 Antonio Franconi, who joined Astley as his Parisian associate before the French Revolution in 1789, would find inspiration in these pantomimes when he took over the enterprise. Franconi’s post-​revolutionary equestrian pantomimes would also be informed by his cooperation with the playwright Jean-​Guillaume-​Antoine Cuvelier.37 Just as Astley, Cuvelier was a former cavalry officer, and it stands to reason that both Astley and Cuvelier were able to use their knowledge and understanding of horses, war and equine warfare to the greatest advantage in their equestrian dramas. The equestrian pantomime, just as the comical riding scenes before it, would soon conquer the continent. In November 1800, General Marlboroughs store Batallie samt hans Heroiske Død, en historisk Tildragelse (General Marlborough’s big Battle and heroic Death, a historical Event) made its debut in Christiania, that is, today’s Oslo. The pantomime was performed by riding master Jean Lustre & Co.38 In Vienna, probably some time after 1805, riding master Christoph de Bach & Co. would put on the equestrian pantomime Der Heldentod des Marlborough (The Heroic Death of Marlborough).39 This pantomime would become a popular piece of equestrian drama, being performed throughout Europe for a long time. In 1840, for instance, it was performed in Trondheim, Norway. Here, General Marlboroughs Feldtslag og Død (General Marlborough’s Campaign and Death) was advertised as a historical pantomime with fencing, combats on horse and on foot, attacks, and bombardments.40 This performance was part of a winter season given in town by Gautier & Co., an itinerant, family-​based company led by the pater familias  –​ Didier Gautier (1792–​1872).41 At the time, they were well known in Scandinavia for their equestrian skills. In addition to trick riding, the company members were proficient in dancing, fencing, rope dancing, acrobatics, and acting.42 In the following, I  will discuss the enduring interest and popularity of some pieces of equestrian drama, as well as possible reasons for their lasting appeal with audiences, using the repertory of Gautier & Co. as an example.

The enduring interest and popularity of equestrian drama Gautier & Co. arrived in Trondheim in mid-​December 1839, and would stay in town until early May 1840. From contemporary, local newspapers and surviving playbills, we can establish the programme for 32 of their performances while in Trondheim, whereof all but two nights contained a play of some sort.43 During their four-​month stay, the Gautier troupe presented 15 different plays that we know of. Their theatrical repertory consisted almost entirely of pantomimes, whereof 11 are of further interest to this chapter (Figure 9.1).44

The hybrid child  179

Figure 9.1 Playbill promoting a performance in Trondheim on 4 February 1840. © Statsarkivet i Trondheim (The Regional State Archives in Trondheim). Reprinted with kind permission.

These 11 pantomimes were not promoted identically on the Gautier playbills. The majority, six, were announced as historical pantomime, while the remaining five were announced as equestrian or grand pantomime. During the company’s winter season in the town, however, all these pantomimes were referred to and discussed as ‘horse comedies’ in the Trondheim newspapers. I will likewise perceive and discuss them as belonging to the same category: that of equestrian drama. The very first piece of theatricals involving horses that Gautier & Co. performed in Trondheim, in December 1839, was advertised as Lord Pudding i den tydske Rideskole eller, De to Jokeier i Vædderidt (Lord Pudding in the German Riding School, or Two Jockeys in a Betting Race).45 This piece was advertised without any specification of genre on the playbill. However, when the company performed it in Sweden the year before, it was presented as a ‘comical riding scene’.46 Thus, the Gautier troupe also performed riding scenes. As mentioned above, equestrian drama had from its very beginning recreated actual events. The newsworthiness was an important factor in the popularity of the military equestrian drama, a subcategory of the hippodrama. Military

180  Ellen Karoline Gjervan equestrian drama became all the rage during the Napoleonic wars (1799–​1815), and would continue to be a favourite with audiences. In France, Napoleon’s career and battles were closely re-​enacted –​providing the subject for 596 plays between 1797 and 1900.47 After Napoleon’s fall, the glorious past had to be addressed somewhat differently, but it was still at the core of the equestrian repertory in France. Napoleon Bonaparte’s military career was not similarly favoured on British stages, although his downfall provided the popular core of Astley’s Amphitheatre’s production of The Battle of Waterloo in April 1824.48 British colonial interests gave performers of equestrian drama numerous opportunities to vary the subject matter and milieu in their military spectacles. The Siege of Missolonghi, for instance, became a favourite equestrian piece when first presented at Astley’s Amphitheatre in 1826.49 This was the same year as the final siege of that Greek town took place. These military plays were part of a trend for battle pieces and for ‘dramatization, in a certain established mode and within as short a time as possible after the events, of incidents from British colonial and foreign wars’.50 Although several of the military pieces had come into being more or less as a living news report of the events they were portraying, by the time they entered the standard equestrian repertory across Europe the novelty of the events had in all likelihood worn off, transforming the piece out of the newsreel and into the realms of historical re-​enactment. This was probably the case when Gautier produced The Siege of Missolonghi in Trondheim: retitled Aga Behil, eller Slaget ved Missolongi (Aga Behil, or The Battle at Missolongi), and promoted as a grand pantomime in two acts ‘taken from newer Greek history with fencing on horseback and on foot, marches, evolutions, dance, and tableaus’.51 Although the news appeal most likely had worn off, other traits might have come to the foreground in these pieces, providing an enduring interest in plays that involved battles fought by military or civilians, by day or night, at home or abroad. Hippodrama was a child of the romantic era, and the romantic theatre was romancing certain, recurring milieus. According to Frederick Marker, there were four recurring milieus, which he discusses as the theatrical styles of the romantic theatre.52 Two of those are of interest here: the exotic and the gothic style. The exotic style was born out of a contemporary interest in geographical and ethnographical details, giving plenty of room for events unfolding in diverse, colourful locations. The hippodrama entitled Mazeppa might, for instance, be understood as such an exotic expression, with its plot mostly playing out among the Cossacks. This exotic piece originated in a folk tale that caught a wider audience with Lord Byron’s 1819 poem by that name. The first equestrian drama built on this poem was produced in London in 1823, but it was the 1831 version produced at Astley’s Amphitheatre that turned it into an international, popular entertainment phenomenon: ‘Mazeppa was soon entrenched in the repertory of every English and American theatre given to producing hippodramas’.53 The performance of a pantomime by the name of Mazeppa, eller Den vilde Hest (Mazeppa, or The Wild Horse), by the Gautier

The hybrid child  181 troupe in Trondheim, shows that they were well versed in the standard repertory of equestrian drama.54 The gothic style concerned itself with medieval milieus and moods, such as moonlit ruins, towers and fortifications, thunder and lightning. Thus, battles fought in moonlit gorges by gloomy castles were sure to attract audiences. Following the tremendous success of Astley’s 1810 production of The Blood Red Knight, sieges, bombardments, and storming of castles became popular conclusions to any play, whether they were based on actual events or in pure fiction. Saxon states that it is difficult to know how many castles that ‘were stormed and set afire … following this success’.55 After the success of this equestrian drama, the patent theatres could no longer ignore the lucrative form –​ making it blossom on all kinds of stages in Great Britain, on the European continent, and in North America. The Blood Red Knight is also an example of an equestrian drama embedded in medieval trappings, as it features crusaders returning home from Jerusalem. In Paris, Cuvelier set the action of his Le renégat, ou, La belle géorgienne (1812) in Palestine, 1191.56 Besides crusaders, this play includes exotic personages such as Saracens, eunuchs and slaves of different hues in addition to the titular Georgian beauty.57 The Gautier troupe performed this play in Breslau in 1842.58 It does not look like this play was on their repertory while in Trondheim, although the

Figure 9.2 Undated engraving. © Statsarkivet i Trondheim (The Regional State Archives in Trondheim). Reprinted with kind permission.

182  Ellen Karoline Gjervan image used to promote the performance in Breslau is also found on a playbill in the archives in Trondheim (Figure 9.2). Most military equestrian dramas, such as The Battle of Waterloo (1824), would also be at home in the gothic style. In this style, historical correct milieus were of great interest. Several tales exist about Anthony Ducrow, then in charge of Astley’s Amphitheatre, actively seeking veterans of the actual battle as audience members, in order to get feedback on the correctness of the play. The Duke of Wellington allegedly approved both the play and its portrayal of himself.59 The gothic style was also the one most concerned with special effects, thus accommodating many spectacular battle scenes with exploding cannons, raging fires, etc. The horrors of war would in themselves lend a gloomy and gothic atmosphere to such plays.

Conclusion Equestrian drama has been relegated to a marginalised place in most histories of the theatre, although it was a central and popular form of entertainment in its time. As there were willing and able riders ready to export the hippodrama as it came into being, the hybrid child travelled well and blossomed on foreign soil –​in historical and cultural contexts different from that of its origins. One reason for its trans-​European success was its hybridity. The Licencing Act inadvertently created a market for hybrid genres and forms of theatrical entertainment based primarily on action and spectacle. With these building blocks, the hippodrama could transgress any border and language barrier. Although the equestrian drama often had a voice, when allowed to, the spoken word was never its sole means of communication. The reliance on action and spectacle was not exclusive to equestrian drama or other hybrid forms; it was a common feature of many theatrical expressions in the romantic era. The romantic theatre, to which equestrian drama belongs, was both in its content and form permeated by fantasy and spectacular theatricality, offering colourful stage pictures, high emotionalism and stark ethical conflicts. The theatrical realisation of this came in the display of milieus with these qualities. Within equestrian drama, some of the theatrical works presented proved to be outstanding plays with an enduring public interest and popularity. These extremely popular pieces would be performed over and over, across time, and across Europe. To my mind, the formation of a standard repertory of equestrian drama owes much to the capability of these pieces to capture the Zeitgeist of the romantic era –​unfolding their action in exotic as well as gothic locales. The hippodrama came into being in a horse-​powered society and economy that was common-​European, meaning discerning audiences were to be found everywhere. It was not only the horsemanship that held an attraction, but also the content of the plays that found a large audience. The era around 1800 in Europe was one of war and military conflicts. This gave performers of equestrian drama numerous opportunities to vary the subject matter in their military

The hybrid child  183 spectacles. The events of the actual battles that these pieces reported on were likely to be of great interest to a multinational audience –​as the wars that raged and ravaged the continent concerned all Europeans. Many hippodramas came into being more or less as a living news report of the events they were portraying, but the novelty of the events portrayed would have worn off over time –​transforming the piece out of the newsreel and into the realms of historical plays or re-​enactments. This is one of the places where we find the hippodrama still alive today, not in the proto-​circus that exported it to the continent –​but in the theatre. Equestrian drama is, for instance, still alive and well in its London cradle, as the National Theatre’s War Horse, running more or less continuously since opening in October 2007, can easily be described as a piece enacted by bipeds and quadrupeds where action and spectacle are the prime artistic means of communication.

Notes 1 Saxon, Enter Foot and Horse, 7. 2 Ibid., 229. 3 Disher, Greatest Show on Earth, 44. 4 Kwint, ‘The Legitimization of the Circus’, 95. 5 Halperson, Das Buch vom Zirkus, 30; Speaight, A History of the Circus,  14–​15. 6 Kolrud, ‘Makt og kjærlighet’, 126.The ballet, entitled Gli Hercoli Domatori de’ Mostri, et Amore Domatore degli Hercoli, was performed at the wedding between Adelaide of Savoy and Ferdinand of Bavaria. Ibid. 7 The majority of hippodramas were, however, constructed as melodramas. Saxon, Enter Foot and Horse,  27–​28. 8 Ibid., 5. One restriction was that actors at minor theatres were only permitted to use verse to express their characters. Taylor, The French Revolution, 43. 9 Kwint, ‘The Legitimization of the Circus’, 95; Coxe, ‘Equestrian Drama and the Circus’, 109. 10 Senelick, ‘hippodrama’, 488. 11 Jando, ‘Philip Astley’. 12 Disher, Greatest Show on Earth, 12. 13 Coxe, A Seat at the Circus, 23. 14 For instance, St. Bartholomew’s Fair was limited to three days in 1750 and in 1760. Southwark Fair was abolished altogether. Coxe, A Seat at the Circus,  23–​24. 15 The choice of making your living as a peripatetic performer was probably made easier in 1824, with the ‘new vagrancy act that, for the first time in six hundred years, no longer classed performers as vagabonds’. Kwint, ‘The Legitimization of the Circus’, 95. 16 Coxe, A Seat at the Circus, 23. 17 Wroth, The London Pleasure Gardens, 148. 18 Ibid., 142.Warwick Wroth refers to reports of Price performing at Three Hats prior to this, but points out that he became the headliner at Dobney’s Bowling Green in the summer of 1767. Ibid., 142.Wroth does not state Mr. Price’s first name, nor does a surviving playbill –​promoting ‘the surprising performances of Mr Price’. Ibid., 142. George Speaight assumes that this Mr. Price is the equestrian Thomas Price. Speaight, A History of the Circus, 21. In a Danish version of the genealogy show

184  Ellen Karoline Gjervan ‘Who do you think you are?’, these performances are attributed to the equestrian John Price. Price and Price, ‘Ved du hvem du er?’ 19 Speaight, A History of the Circus, 22. 20 Bratton and Traies, Astley’s Amphitheatre, 11. 21 Marra, ‘Equestrian Drama’, 429. 22 Speaight, A History of the Circus, 23. 23 Cross, By the Banks of the Neva, 39; Speaight, A History of the Circus, 23; Senelick, ‘circus’, 215. 24 Bates was in Copenhagen in 1769, in Sweden in 1770, and in the American colonies in 1773–​1774. Enevig, Cirkus i Danmark, 119; Wåhlberg, Cirkus i Sverige, 15; Speaight, A History of the Circus, 23. 25 Marra, ‘Equestrian Drama’, 429. 26 Kwint, ‘The Legitimization of the Circus’, 77. 27 Kotar and Gessler, The Rise of the American Circus, 49; Hera, Der verzauberte Palast, 106. These scenes were billed as ‘scènes de manège’ in France. Saxon, Enter Foot and Horse, 33. 28 ‘Sie zeigten fremde Städte und ungewöhnliche Ereignisse, berichten von Sensationen aus aller Welt.’ Hera, Der verzauberte Palast, 111. All translations are by this author unless otherwise indicated. 29 Coxe, ‘Equestrian Drama and the Circus’, 112. 30 Rosenfeld, The Theatre of the London Fairs, 144. 31 Ibid. 32 McCormick, Popular Theatres, 28. 33 Tissier, Les Spectacles à Paris, 399; Campardon, Les Spectacles de la Foire, 28–​29. In January 1789, it was performed a total of 27 times. Tissier, Les Spectacles à Paris, 343. 34 Hirn, Den Gastronomiska Hästen, 48; Kolinski, ‘Malbrough s’en va-​t-​en guerre’, 1. 35 The song gained wide popularity in France in the years leading up to the Revolution, and would spread throughout Europe as well as the Americas. See, for instance, Kolinski, ‘Malbrough s’en va-​t-​en guerre’. 36 McCormick, Popular Theatres, 134–​5. 37 Franconi began working with Cuvelier in 1789, performing equestrian parts in many of his pantomimes. Hera, Der verzauberte Palast, 114. 38 Huitfeldt, Christiania Theaterhistorie, 228. 39 Halperson, Das Buch vom Zirkus,  77–​78. 40 ‘Marlboroughs Feldtslag og Død’. 41 For more information regarding the family and the company, see Gjervan, ‘Pantomime under the Aurora Borealis’. 42 They also offered a sideshow, exhibiting a flock of ostriches and a 38-​inch (approximately 96 cm) tall Swiss lady in her 60s. [Gautier, Didier].‘En stor Natursjeldenhed’. 43 Based on circumstantial evidence, there seems to have been at least 11 more performances by the company while in town, totalling at approximately 43 performances given during their sojourn. 44 The remaining four pantomimes on their repertory were comical pantomimes whose plots revolved around Harlequin’s pursuit of Columbine. 45 Statsarkivets grønne bokser 37, 26 December 1839. 46 ‘komisk ridarscene’. Hirn, Den Gastronomiska Hästen, 85. 47 Saxon, Enter Foot and Horse, 115. 48 Ibid., 137. 49 Bratton and Traies, Astley’s Amphitheatre, 43.

The hybrid child  185 50 Ibid. 51 ‘af den nyere Græske historie, med fekting til hest og til fots, marsjer, evolutioner, dans og tablåer’. Statsarkivets grønne bokser 37, 14 February 1840. 52 Marker, Hans Christian Andersen, 136. 53 Saxon, Enter Foot and Horse, 187. 54 Trondhjems borgerlige Realskoles alene privilegerede Adressecontoirs-​ Efterretninger, 26 March 1840. 55 Saxon, Enter Foot and Horse, 55. 56 Riley-​Smith, The Oxford History of the Crusades, 378. 57 Ibid. 58 [Gautier], ‘27. März 1842’. 59 Horwell, ‘Don’t spare the horses’.

Bibliography Bratton, Jaqueline S., and Jane Traies. Astley’s Amphitheatre. Cambridge: Chadwyck-​ Healy, 1980. Campardon, Émile. Les Spectacles de la Foire:  Theatres, Acteurs, Sauteurs et Danseurs de Corde, Monstres, Geants, Nains, Animaux curieux ou savants, Marionnettes, Automates, vol. 1. Paris: Berger-​Levrault, 1877. Coxe, Antony D. Hippisley. A Seat at the Circus. London: Evans Brothers, 1951. –––​. ‘Equestrian Drama and the Circus’. In Performance and Politics in Popular Drama: Aspects of Popular Entertainment in Theatre, Film and Television, 1800–​1976, edited by David Bradby, Louis James, and Bernard Sharratt, 109–​18. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980. Cross, Anthony Glenn. By the Banks of the Neva: Chapters from the Lives and Careers of the British in Eighteenth-​Century Russia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Disher, Maurice Willson. Greatest Show on Earth: As Performed for Over a Century at Astley’s (afterwards Sanger’s) Royal Amphitheatre of Arts, Westminster Bridge Road. London:  G. Bell and Sons, 1937. Enevig, Anders. Cirkus i Danmark. Copenhagen (København):  Dansk Historisk Håndbogsforlag, 1981. Gjervan, Ellen Karoline. ‘Pantomime under the Aurora Borealis:  The Winter Season of the Gautier Troupe in Trondheim, Norway, 1839–​1840’. In Performing Arts in Changing Societies: Opera, Dance, and Theatre in European and Nordic Countries around 1800, edited by Randi Margrete Selvik, Svein Gladsø, and Anne Margrete Fiskvik, 178–​90. London: Routledge, 2020. Halperson, Joseph. Das Buch vom Zirkus:  Beiträge zur Geschichte der Wanderkünstlerwelt. Leipzig: Zentralantiquariat der DDR, 1926/​1990. Hera,Janina.Der verzauberte Palast: Aus der Geschichte der Pantomime.Berlin: Henschelverlag, Kunst und Gesellschaft, 1981. Hirn, Sven. Den Gastronomiska Hästen: Gamla nordiske artistaffischer. Helsingfors: Svenska litteratursällskapet i Finland, 2002. Horwell, Veronica. ‘Don’t spare the horses: How the Battle of Waterloo became a stage sensation’. The Guardian, 18 June 2015. Accessed 31 May 2020. www.theguardian.com/​ stage/​2015/​jun/​18/​battle-​of-​waterloo-​200-​years-​bicentenary-​theatrical-​spectacular. Huitfeldt, Henrik Jørgen. Christiania Theaterhistorie. Copenhagen (Kjøbenhavn): Gyldendal, 1876.

186  Ellen Karoline Gjervan Jando, Dominique. ‘Philip Astley:  Circus Owner, Equestrian’. In Circopedia:  The Free Encyclopedia of the International Circus. Accessed 1 June 2020. www.circopedia.org/​ Philip_​Astley. Kolinski, Mieczyslaw. ‘Malbrough s’en va-​t-​en guerre:  Seven Canadian Versions of a French Folksong’. Yearbook of the International Folk Music Council 10 (1978): 1–​32. Kolrud, Kristine. ‘Makt og kjærlighet: En hesteballett ved fyrsthoffet i Torino i 1650’. In Kjønnsforhandlinger: Studier i kunst, film og litteratur, edited by Anne Birgitte Rønning and Geir Uvsløkk, 126–​37. Oslo: Pax, 2013. Kotar, S. L., and J. E. Gessler. The Rise of the American Circus:  1716–​1899. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2011. Kwint, Marius. ‘The Legitimization of the Circus in Late Georgian England’. Past and Present 174, no. 1 (2002): 72–​115. Marker, Frederick J. Hans Christian Andersen and the Romantic Theatre: A Study of Stage Practices in the Prenaturalistic Scandinavian Theatre. Toronto:  University of Toronto Press, 1971. Marra, Kim. ‘Equestrian Drama’. In The Encyclopedia of Romantic Literature, edited by Frederick Burwick, Nancy Moore Goslee, and Diane Long Hoeveler, 429–​ 36. Malden, MA: Wiley-​Blackwell, 2012. McCormick, John. Popular Theatres of Nineteenth Century France. London:  Routledge, 2011. Price, James, and Adam Price. ‘Ved du hvem du er? James og Adam Price’. Television Programme. Danmarks Radio. 25 September 2013. Riley-​Smith, Jonathan. The Oxford History of the Crusades. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999. Rosenfeld, Sybil. TheTheatre of the London Fairs in the 18th Century. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1960. Saxon, Arthur H. Enter Foot and Horse: A History of Hippodrama in England and France. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1968. Senelick, Laurence.‘circus’. In The Cambridge Guide to Theatre, edited by Martin Banham, 215–​16. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. –––​. ‘hippodrama’. In The Cambridge Guide to Theatre, edited by Martin Banham, 488. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Speaight, George. A History of the Circus. London: The Tantivy Press, 1980. Taylor, George. The French Revolution and the London Stage:  1789–​1805. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Tissier, André. Les Spectacles à Paris pendant la Révolution. Geneva (Genève): Droz, 1992. Wroth, Warwick W. The London Pleasure Gardens of the Eighteenth Century. London: Macmillan, 1896. Wåhlberg, Per Arne. Cirkus i Sverige: Bidrag till vårt lands kulturhistoria. Stockholm: Carlssons, 1992.

Archival sources Nasjonalbiblioteket (National Library of Norway) [En stor Natursjeldenhed:  Den lille Schweizerinde]. Playbill. Plakatsamlingen (Collection of posters). PLKTR_​00466.

The hybrid child  187 Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden –​Online Collection ‘27. März 1842:  Große Vorstellung in vier Abtheilungen’. Puppentheatersammlung. C 1101. Accessed 1 June 2020. skd-​online-​collection.skd.museum/​Details/​Index/​ 1196489.

Statsarkivet i Trondheim (The Regional State Archives in Trondheim) [Marlboroughs Feldtslag og Død]. Plakater, akrobater, sirkus, teater (Playbills, acrobats, circus, theatre). Statsarkivets grønne bokser (The green boxes of the State Archives) 37. H022-​1–​5.

10  Vittorio Alfieri’s tramelogedia Abéle A physiognomic reading of a marginalised play by a canonical author Maria-​Christina  Mur

Introduction The research for my dissertation entitled The Circulation of Physiognomical Discourse in European Theatrical Culture, 1780–​1830 concentrates on the idea that at the end of the eighteenth century theories related to physiognomy,1 being the science of the human soul and character seen through the facial features, had an important influence on the European theatre production.There is clearly a relation between this philosophic, theoretical concept and the theatrical performances and dramatic texts produced in approximately 50 years of cultural history. My research shows that essays, manuals and textbooks on the art of acting include as much physiognomic elements as the selected plays in English, French, Italian and German. These plays are examples of not only tragedies and comedies in a more classic form, but they are also examples of some newly developed genres such as the melodrama, the comédie larmoyante, drame bourgeois, Rührstück and Bürgerliches Trauerspiel. Key figures of this literary tradition are Thomas Holcroft (1745–​1809) and Joanna Baillie (1762–​1851) for the English literature; René Charles Guilbert de Pixérécourt (1773–​1844) and Marie-​Joseph Chénier (1764–​1811) for the French literature; Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729–​1781), Friedrich Schiller (1759–​1805), August von Kotzebue (1761–​1819) and Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–​1832) for the German literature; and Vittorio Alfieri (1749–​1803) and Ugo Foscolo (1778–​ 1827) for the Italian literature. These authors have very different approaches towards the theory of physiognomy, which makes an appearance in their plays in many different guises. In the so-​called ‘physiognomical portraits’, for instance, the discussed authors use the description of their dramatis personæ to present different forms of passions, which can be acted out and displayed on stage. Many authors make also direct references to Johann Caspar Lavater (1741–​1801), the main theorist of physiognomy in the eighteenth century, and his teachings. All these authors discuss in one way or another the reliability and readability of the fixed and permanent features of the human face. The genres developed or revisited in that particular moment help in showing best the importance of the signs in the face and their understanding by the characters themselves.

Vittorio Alfieri’s tramelogedia Abéle  189 This chapter aims at showing Vittorio Alfieri’s approach towards the theory of physiognomy with his so-​called tramelogedia Abéle. Alfieri  –​driven by the establishment of the ‘real Italian theatre’–​creates the genre tramelogedia and uses his play Abéle to demonstrate his theory related to it.2 The chapter examines Alfieri in a European context both with reference to the genre of melodrama and a physiognomical perspective. Three main questions will be discussed in three sections: firstly, ‘what makes Alfieri a canonical dramatist?’; secondly, ‘how does Alfieri explain the creation of the genre tramelogedia and how it is related to the theory and practice of the melodrama in other European countries?’; and thirdly, ‘what role does physiognomy play in his dramas?’ Alfieri makes significant changes to the biblical story of Cain and Abel. He focuses his attention onto the idea of predestination and destiny while using the popular and well-​known theory of physiognomy in order to produce a new specific dramatic genre. The aim of this chapter is to examine this process of creation and Alfieri’s specific use of physiognomy and to discuss why Abéle has become a marginalised play. Vittorio Alfieri: A canonical author? Alfieri was born in 1749 into a noble family in Piedmont, Northern Italy. He spent most of his adolescence studying Latin and reading the works of Italian poet Ludovico Ariosto (1474–​1533). In 1766, Alfieri started a six-​year-​ long journey throughout Europe, visiting many countries such as France, England, the Netherlands, Austria, Germany, Russia, Sweden, Finland, Spain and Portugal. During his travels, Alfieri became acquainted with many influential people of the time and his interest in literature and language grew with every new country he visited. In 1774, after his return to Turin, Alfieri wrote the first of his many tragedies. In the following years, he improved his skills as a playwright and his political interests influenced his treatises. His autobiography Vita scritta da esso (Life Written by the Author Himself) gives an interesting insight into his life, character and opus. Alfieri died in 1803 in Florence after a very productive literary career. Alfieri, who is described by the secondary literature as a ‘colossal figure in the Italian literature of the eighteenth century’,3 wrote a wide range of works. His opus includes 21 tragedies, 6 comedies, some works commonly grouped as Opere varie filosofico-​politiche in prosa e in versi (Various philosophical and political works in prose and verse) such as the treatises Della Tirannide (Of Tyranny) and Del Principe e delle Lettere (The Prince and Letters), the epigram Misogallo, the canzoniere Rime and his autobiography Vita.4 Alfieri’s work focuses on pointing out the horror of tyranny and the internal and external conflicts of human beings related to the power of the passions: ‘Alfieri is the poet of few but overwhelming passions:  freedom, homeland, glory, love’.5 Alfieri centres his attention around the individual, a heroic protagonist, who has ‘universal, non-​historical significance’.6 Alfieri had already risen to literary fame during his lifetime and his tragedies were staged and read frequently all over Italy. His theories relating to the creation of a neo-​classicist form of tragedy were highly

190  Maria-Christina Mur recognised not only in Italy but also throughout Europe.7 Alfieri’s opus was published during his lifetime and posthumously in several volumes.8 Alfieri describes in Parere dell’autore intorno le sue tragedie (Opinion on the Tragedies) a specific literary programme firstly for each of his tragedies in detail and secondly for tragedies in general divided into remarks about invention, scenario and style. In the section about invention, Alfieri discusses the originality of his own plays, which does not generally appear in the form of new characters or stories, but in the concentrated attention to the central points of the dramatic action: The absolute suppression of all episodic incidents, of every chit-​chat that does not develop a passion, of all the work that does not lead to an end in the shortest way, has caused the suppression of all the characters that are not strictly highly necessary, and under this aspect primary.9 Alfieri is inspired by the works of other authors and applies his own literary understanding to the characters and their stories. He points out the internal and external conflicts of his characters and how these are placed in a broader literary picture. In the section dedicated to the scenario, Alfieri argues against the excessive use of monologues and an overly embellished action, with too many different possible endings ahead. The characters should be few, ideally four, and the three unities of time, action and place should be followed as much as possible. In general, the scenario should be set in a ‘simple, natural and sufficiently motivated way’.10 The section on style summarises Alfieri’s postulation of a ‘pure, correct and not weak’ form of tragedy.11 The verses, all in hendecasyllable blank verse,12 should be short and to the point. The language is simple, easy to understand and chosen appropriately for each specific character and scene. Alfieri shows through his Parere a very ambiguous attitude towards the staging of plays in general and his own plays in particular. Throughout the Parere, he makes comments about the representation on stage. As already mentioned in the Introduction, Alfieri is driven by the idea to create a ‘real Italian theatre’. He criticises not only the other playwrights of his time but also the actors and theatre directors. He sees himself as the Messiah of the Italian theatre and he challenges critics on more than one occasion to prove him wrong: The method here displayed, has shown enough, in my opinion, that such a method is new, and by all means different from all those practiced so far. I will not demonstrate, that it might be the best one; I am not expected to say so, but with pleasure, I will hear others to prove this method be the worst.13 While speaking about the secondary characters, Alfieri compares the best Italian actors to the worst French actors and concludes that the French are still better. Even though both in his theoretical writings and in his plays, Alfieri remarks on the staging, it is known that he did not entirely approve of the staging of

Vittorio Alfieri’s tramelogedia Abéle  191 his own plays. The reason for this refusal is based on his poor opinion of Italian actors. He did not trust them to deliver his words with the right amount of pathos and to act out the scenes with the appropriate gestures. Alfieri shared his plays with the public by way of reading them on several occasions for different literary societies in Turin, Rome and Florence. Some of these societies also arranged performances of a number of his plays. Alfieri’s autobiography Vita keeps a record of these performances and Alfieri’s critique. In 1775, for example, his tragedy Cleopatra was staged in Turin and Alfieri could barely stand the performance.14 Nine years later, the same theatre company staged Virginia and Alfieri’s aversion to the actors’ incapacity of performing became even worse.15 One of the biggest issues for Alfieri is the use of the language: Alfieri himself wrote his first tragedies in French and for a long period of his life he had identity issues relating to the language. He states in his Vita that at a certain point he moved to Tuscany to ‘speak, hear, think and dream in Tuscan’.16 Tuscan is the dialect that eventually becomes the Italian language and Alfieri wants to use it exclusively in his plays. His tragedies are examples of a very sober, simple and sophisticated use of the Italian language and the dialogues and –​even more so –​ the few but powerful, passionate monologues show its full gravitas. To answer the question of what makes Alfieri a canonical author, it is necessary to consider his continuous effort to create an Italian theatre through the use of a pure Italian language. His contribution to Italian literature is significant; he was one of the few Italian poets of that period who emphasised the importance of theatre in its classic form as tragedies and comedies. His understanding and analysis of the current political developments made him not only a valuable critic of his time but also a fierce observer whose writings bear testament of a complex and tumultuous time in history. His theoretical work made him an important role model for other Italian authors, such as Foscolo, Giacomo Leopardi (1789–​1837) and Alessandro Manzoni (1785–​1873). Many of their works, which are today probably better known to a wider audience, could not have been written without Alfieri’s literary and theoretical work. His political theories about a united Italian nation related to one Italian culture and language made him one of the forefathers of the Risorgimento.17 Alfieri’s self-​evaluation, consciousness, critique, narcissistic behaviour and self-​image have made him one of the most interesting figures in Italian literature in the last 250  years. Alfieri and his opus are part of every Italian school, every theatre historian’s and literary critic’s canon. Even though today his plays are rarely staged, his autobiography and political treatises are still frequently read.18 The tramelogedia In his Vita, Alfieri speaks on several occasions about the writing of Abéle. He started writing Abéle in 1786.19 Alfieri never explained extensively his theoretical approach and the dramatic programme he wanted to apply to Abéle in his Vita. He decided to add a preface to the tramelogedia instead. In 1790 Alfieri was still working on Abéle because it was ‘finished, but not polished’.20 Initially, he

192  Maria-Christina Mur had the plan to write at least five other tramelogedie, but he abandoned this plan after realising that he had not the power and inspiration to do so: As for the composing, though I  had my plan designed for at least five other tramelogedie, sisters of Abele, considering the past and even the present difficulties of the soul, my youthful, inventive passion had vanished, my imagination became discouraged, and the last precious years of youth broken and blunt, by the fatigue of publishing and the troubles that for more than five years had buried my soul, it did not feel right anymore; and in fact, I had to abandon the thought because I did not have the necessary fury for such an insane genre. Finished with that idea, that even though had been much dear to me, I wanted to turn to satire.21 According to the Vita, Abéle was finished in 1799.22 In the preface to Abéle, which was posthumously published in 1804, Alfieri explains his intention and the structure, form and purpose of this new genre. Alfieri starts his explanations by pointing out that it is easier for him to say what the tramelogedia is not than what it actually is. The tramelogedia is not a tragedy, a comedy or a Dramma musicale, nor is it a Tragedia urbana, a Tragi-​commedia or a Melo-​tragedia. Alfieri creates a tragedia combined with the melodia of the voices of the chorus: ‘I inserted the word “melo” in the word “tragedia” so that it will not damage the termination, not minding the root of the name’.23 The tramelogedia remains a ‘hideous genre’ for Alfieri, but the aim of his invention justifies this fact.24 Alfieri, resenting the non-​existence of a real Italian culture of tragedies, tries to use the audience’s love for lyrical opera to create a ‘real Italian theatre’.25 Alfieri criticises harshly the musical opera because it made the audience blind to the real tragedy. According to him, the spectators do not have the mental powers necessary to understand the tragedy. Alfieri is faithful to the classical division in five acts and he assigns a genre to each act: the first act is an opera, the second and fifth acts are tragedies, and the third and fourth acts are ‘mixed tragedies’, using elements both of the opera and the classic tragedy. For the performance of this tramelogedia, two types of actors/​performers are required: good tragic actors for the heavy, pathos-​loaded tragic parts, and singers for the chorus in the play. Alfieri remains sceptical of his invention, but he is also confident that the tramelogedia will bring the audience back to the tragedy, and if so he would be glad to take credit for this development. Comparing the tramelogedia to the tragedy, the audience will understand that the tragedy is the much more important genre. Alfieri imagines the performance of his play in a court, where the noble audience can not only appreciate but also pay for the luxurious costumes and the rich setting. Alfieri uses the creation of this new genre and the explanation of this enterprise for propaganda of his political interests and ideas: he finishes his explanations by saying that Italy is one nation and as such it should have a real theatre: I end by wishing Italy that it has a real theatre, in which to each art its due place is assigned; and that the Opera, confined within the natural limits of

Vittorio Alfieri’s tramelogedia Abéle  193 its fabulous, playful and amorous topics, no longer usurps the primacy of the divine tragedy. … May therefore the tramelogedia prepare part of this necessary and precious change, by which the Italians, mounting from their most effeminate Opera to virile tragedy, may at the same time raise themselves from the nullity of their politics to the dignity of a real nation.26 Alfieri’s tramelogedia, even though being mainly important for the Italian theatre, can also be placed in a European context. The tramelogedia as described by Alfieri in his preface combines both musical, rhymed elements and tragic verses. In part, this new genre can be seen related to the French, English and German melodrama, popular at the time. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, some new genres were popular on the stages throughout Europe: the bourgeois drama, the sentimental comedy and the melodrama. The definition of these genres is quite difficult because the theorists of the time, such as Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729–​1781),27 Christian Fürchtegott Gellert (1715–​1769),28 Denis Diderot (1713–​1784),29 and Pierre-​Mathieu de Chassiron (1704–​1747)30 as well as scholars of more recent times mixed several genres, and assigned plays and theoretical essays to more than one definition.31 The melodrama, here defined as a form of play, where the action is carried out with musical accompaniment, is the result of a mixture of different genres and combines their main elements with new forms of expression.32 In the Historical Dictionary of British Theatre, Darryll Grantley summarises the definition of melodrama as follows: Narrowly the term refers to plays in which background music accompanied spoken dialogue, but it came to be applied more generally to a genre of drama that is highly sentimentalized with exaggerated plotlines, presents stark moral conflicts with a strong moralizing tendency, is populated by stock characters, and uses theatrical tricks such as eleventh hour revelations, last-​minute escapes and sudden reversals of fortune.33 The musical element –​which originally gave the melodrama its name –​appears in various forms in the play:34 a chorus or the characters sing songs throughout the action, or instrumental accompaniment can be heard in the most dramatic moments.35 The expressive movements of the actors seem more clearly visible on stage in those moments when music, dancing and singing are used all together. The setting of the stage mainly helps to underline the effect of gestures and postures. The costumes, as well as the decoration, could be very elaborate and some productions were truly spectacular: many new techniques were applied on stage, such as mechanical elevators and special lighting to create different weather conditions.36 Melodrama is, in general, a combination of large, harsh, vivid movements and strong expressions, silent attitudes and characterisation through stable and steady poses. In the melodrama, the rural everyday life meets the exotic, and distant affairs are brought closer to the social issues in the home country. The melodrama combines both gothic and

194  Maria-Christina Mur fantastic elements, which lead to the appearance of supernatural creatures such as ghosts, shadows, phantoms and furies.37 The creation of the characters of the melodrama, which should be very few, is related to a strict catalogue of character traits. The characters form oppositions of black and white, good and bad, and are deprived of the possibility of development or change. The character constellation can be associated with the most simple and popular physiognomic idea: good is beautiful and bad is ugly. Lavater describes this formula very clearly in his Physiognomische Fragmente: ‘The beauty and deformity of the countenance is in a just, and determinate, proportion to the moral beauty and deformity of the man. The morally best, the most beautiful. The morally worst, the most deformed’.38 In France, the main exponents of melodrama were René Charles Guilbert de Pixérécourt (1773–​1844), Louis-​Charles Caigniez (1762–​1842), and Victor Henri-​Joseph Brahain Ducange (1783–​1833). The first English melodrama was brought to the stage in 1802: A Tale of Mystery by Thomas Holcroft was inspired by the play Cœlina39 by Pixérécourt.40 In 1775, the first German melodrama Ariadne auf Naxos written by Johann Christian Brandes (1735–​1799) was staged in Gotha.41 Kotzebue was influenced and inspired by the work of the French playwrights and, in turn, he had an important effect on the European melodramatic production. The operatic tradition has always been too strong in Italy, its country of origin, to leave any room for the melodrama. Alfieri’s invention of the tramelogedia can be considered an exception, one of the few Italian melodramatic creations. In summary, there are some clear similarities between the melodrama and Alfieri’s tramelogedia. Both use few main characters, who follow a clear distinction of good and bad, and who are not able to develop throughout the duration of the action. The action is set in a fantastic environment, with supernatural beings. The plot follows the choice of well-​known topics and themes. The music accompanies the pathos-​loaded dialogue and highlights the dramatic action. Abéle Abéle tells the biblical story of the fratricide of Abel by Cain. Alfieri himself wanted to show Cain’s importance by initially calling the play Caino, Tragedia musicale.42 Alfieri starts his tramelogedia with the list of the dramatis personæ, divided into fantastic, allegorical characters such as La voce d’Iddio (The voice of God), Lucifero (Lucifer), Belzebu (Beelzebub), Mammona (Mammon), Astarotte (Ashtaroth), Il Peccato (Sin), L’Invidia (Envy), La Morte (Death), Coro d’angeli (Chorus of Angels), Coro di demoni (Chorus of Demons) and the four main tragic characters Adamo (Adam), Eva, Caino (Cain) and Abéle (Abel).43 The fantastic characters sing their verses and the tragic characters recite in blank verse. As explained in the preface, Alfieri introduces musical elements to this tramelogedia. At the beginning of each scene and in decisive moments, Alfieri adds footnotes with indications on how the music should be. His indications are few, without the use of any specific musical vocabulary. He leaves the details

Vittorio Alfieri’s tramelogedia Abéle  195 and particulars to an eventual composer who would take on the task of writing the music to Alfieri’s verses. The first act is set in Lucifero’s kingdom, hell. His son Il Peccato tells him about the harmony and peace in Adamo’s family, and about God’s apparent forgiveness and grace after the Fall. The chorus of demons calls for a reunion in Pandemonium and the demons Astarotte, Belzebu and Mammona bring forward their ideas and plans.44 They agree that Il Peccato alone will not be able to destroy Adamo and his family and therefore they decide that L’Invidia and La Morte should accompany Lucifero and Il Peccato: Lucifero: Entrambe intanto lo squallor natio Ammantate or di falso e blando aspetto: Tu, dai serpenti, un giovenil tuo brio Fingi, e in somma beltade un molle petto: Tu, dalla falce, le ignude ossa e il rio Tuo ceffo appiatta in matronale assetto; Madre e figlia parrete. Io voi da presso Seguo lassù, col mio figliuolo, io stesso.

Lucifer: Your innate squalor ye must both disguise, And cover with an aspect false and fair: Thou with the snakes, in youthful lively wise Must feign to be a maid of beauty rare: Thou with the scythe, beneath a matron’s guise Thy naked bones and foul face hiding there; Mother and daughter seeming to the view. I, with my son, will shortly follow you.a

 Abéle in Alfieri, Opere postume, 42, act 1, scene 3 (hereafter cited by act and scene in the notes).

a

Meanwhile, in the second act, Adamo and Eva are waiting at home for the return of their sons: Caino is working on the field and Abele is tending the sheep. They are discussing the work and fate of their sons and that they would like to have a daughter as well. In this conversation, it becomes clear that Eva prefers Abele to Caino because he has a more endearing character and that, at least, Adamo is aware of this fact: Adamo: Io chiedo sempre una figliola a Dio, Che te somigli; onde altre figlie poscia Nascan, beando i pronipoti nostri, Come tu fai beato me.

Adam: I ever ask a daughter from the Lord, Resembling thee, that other daughters may Be born to make our far descendants happy, As thou hast made me happy.

Eva: La bramo Io, più di te: compagna a me di sesso, »Figlia negli anni, ed in amor sorella« Sarammi, io spero: e l’indole sua mite Pari fia (così prego) alla leggiadra Indole amabil del mio Abele.

Eve: This I covet, More than thyself: companion of my sex, Daughter in years, a sister in her love, She’ll be to me, I trust: I also pray That her mild disposition may resemble My Abel’s sweet and gentle character.

Adamo: Ognora Più per Abel che per Caino madre Ti vai mostrando: or, perchè fia?

Adam: Mother of Abel rather than of Cain Thou always show’st thyself: now, why is this?

196  Maria-Christina Mur Eva: Tra queste Mie braccia Abele io l’ultimo portava; Ei quindi in me più tenerezza desta, Non già più amore. È ver, che s’io d’entrambi Madre non fossi, un non so che in Abele Di più innocente e docile, più forza Fariami al cor, che il ruvido maschio aspro Contegno di Caino. Or dimmi; un certo Non so qual tetro inesplicabil segno, Come se fosse una nube di sangue, Non ti sembr’egli pur tra ciglio e ciglio Veder scolpito di Caino in fronte?

Eve: ‘Twas Abel that I last bore in my arms; Therefore, in me more tenderness he wakes. But not more love. ‘Tis true that, were I not Mother of both, in Abel there’s a something More innocent and docile, which appeals More to my heart, than the rough masculine Harsh look of Cain. But say: does it not seem To thee that on Cain’s forehead is impress’d, Extending from one eyebrow to the other, A certain dark inexplicable mark, Resembling, as it were, a cloud of blood?a

 Ibid., act 2, scene 1.

a

Caino has a birthmark on his face (inesplicabil segno [a dark inexplicable mark]), which makes him less loveable than his younger brother Abele. Adamo insists that Eva should love both in the same way and that he will do what is possible to bring Caino to the right side. When the brothers return home, their parents are serving them their food. The interaction between all the family members is polite, warm-​hearted and respectful. It emerges from Abele’s questions about death that the brothers do not know about the lost paradise. When, in the third act, Lucifero, Il Peccato, L’Invidia and La Morte arrive at Adamo’s home, they immediately see the sign or mark on Caino’s face which makes him the perfect victim of the leading role in this devilish plan: L’Invidia: Ecco mia preda: questi, Che qui supino dorme: Truci in volto ha le forme: Vada, vada, e si annesti Seco, ed al cor ben ben se gli avviticchi, Questa mia serpe, e gliel rosicchi a spicchi.

Envy: This one shall be my prey, Now sleeping on his back: His face is mark’d with passions black. Quick, quick, good snake, away! And round his inmost heart entwine, And gnaw it into atoms fine.a

 Ibid., act 3, scene 1.

a

Envy troubles Caino and he decides to leave his parents’ home during the night. He thinks, or better, realises that even though he is working hard and trying to be a good brother and son, his parents prefer Abele to him. Abele, who had terrible nightmares, wakes up with the fear of dying and losing his loved ones. He immediately starts to look for Caino and leaves his parents alone. Both Adamo and Eva are frightened and start to pray. The voice of God tells Adamo to accept the loss of his sons because he needs to bow before destiny, which rules everything:

Vittorio Alfieri’s tramelogedia Abéle  197 La Voce d’Iddio: Sorgi, Adamo. Non sono a me i tuoi preghi Discari, no: ma irrevocabil legge Vuol che al Destin ti pieghi, Che i casi vostri imperioso regge.

The Voice of God: Adam, arise! Thy prayers to Me Are not displeasing: but fix’d laws that know No change, bid thee to bow to destiny Which rules imperiously all things below.a

 Ibid., act 3, scene 5.

a

Adamo does not want to obey God and he follows his sons anyway hoping to save them. In the fourth act, both Caino and Abele wander around, fooled by the voices of Lucifero. Caino cannot explain even to himself why he is pushed away from his family. He just realises that an indescribable rage drives him. Caino doubts his value but also reminds himself of all the love the parents show him. As he is about to return home, he sees two unknown figures appear in front of him. L’Invidia and La Morte, appearing as mother and daughter, make Caino believe that his parents are hiding a terrestrial paradise from him and that they want to open it only for his brother Abele. Caino is touched by L’Invidia, who disappears with La Morte, and he decides to enter paradise before his brother. Abele finally finds Caino, who accuses him of being a traitor and tries to attack him with his pickaxe. Abele flees. In the fifth act, the tramelogedia takes its final turn. Caino catches up with Abele, threatens him to death and a long quarrel begins. Abele does not understand why Caino is so envious and so he tries to appeal to his brother’s good heart and his reading of Abele’s face: Abele: oh Dio! sovra il mio volto, Negli occhi miei, ne’detti, nel contegno, Non ti si affaccia or l’innocenzia mia?

Abel: Upon my face, And in my eyes, and words, and countenance, Does not my innocence reveal itself?a

 Ibid., act 5, scene 1.

a

Caino does not trust Abele’s face and words, wounds him mortally and flees. Adamo finds the dying Abele and curses Caino. Abele, even though being in his darkest moment, shows once again his beautiful character by forgiving his murderer, his own brother. Eva, finding her dead son and her mourning husband, realises quickly that it was Caino who killed his brother and she says: Eva: Abele, Abele… Ah! Più non m’ode…Un traditor, tel dissi, Un traditor tra ciglio e ciglio ognora Io vedeva in Caino. a

 Ibid., act 5, scene 3.

Eve: Abel, Abel … Alas, he hears me not!… –​I ever told thee, That I discern’d a traitor’s mark, yes, traitor’s, Between Cain’s eyebrows.a

198  Maria-Christina Mur The voice of God concludes the act by promising new children to Adamo and Eva, and a brighter future for their family. Everything happened according to God’s plan. Alfieri focuses his attention in this tramelogedia on the ideas of predestination and fate. Caino carries a sign on his face, even before he even wants to kill his brother. He was marked by God in order to fulfil his plan. Abele on the other side has a lovely countenance, which shows his beautiful character and soul. He represents the innocence and naivety, which are moved by higher, stronger powers. Through these signs or marks, both brothers have their fate already written in their faces. As other scholars have pointed out in their studies of Alfieri’s most famous tragedy Saul, Alfieri studied the Bible extensively in the last 20 years of his life.45 Both Saul and Abele question the origin and significance of sin, and Alfieri gives his own, personal interpretation.46 In Abéle the appearance of sin is related to the signs in the brothers’ faces, and therefore to the theory of physiognomy.

Predestination and physiognomy As discussed so far, the European theatrical production at the end of the eighteenth century was clearly influenced by the discussion about physiognomy. Alfieri’s tramelogedia introduces an interesting link between the physiognomical discourse and the religious questions about predestination and providence. Lavater, a Protestant pastor of Zwinglian belief, dedicates one of his fragments to men’s freedom in a world moved by God’s will: Man is as free as the bird in the cage; he has a determinate space for action and sensation, beyond which he cannot pass. As each man has a particular circumference of body, so has he likewise a certain sphere of action.47 Men can only move in a specific sphere already foreseen and predetermined by God.This implies that the human countenance and character is already set from the beginning. Lavater says that there is the possibility of changes, but: Each must remain what he is, nor can he extend or enlarge himself beyond a certain size. … The character and countenance of every man may suffer astonishing changes:  yet, only to a certain extent. Each has room sufficient: the least has a large and good field, which he may cultivate, according to the soil; but he can only sow such seed as he has.48 Men are God’s instruments and as such they must obey his will and hope for his mercy. Alfieri uses the belief of predestination in the creation of the characters in his tramelogedia. He literally marks Caino and Abele for their roles in God’s play. By doing so, he deprives them of the possibility of development and improvement.

Vittorio Alfieri’s tramelogedia Abéle  199

Alfieri and physiognomy In my research on the circulation of physiognomical discourse in European theatrical culture, I  try to detect through many different writings a certain physiognomical knowledge or sensibility of the authors I  discuss. Vittorio Alfieri’s life and work can be linked to two important women and their literary salons:  Isabella Teotochi Marin later Albrizzi (1760–​1836) and Louise of Stolberg-​Gedern, countess of Albany (1752–​1824). Teotochi Albrizzi  –​a well-​educated and well-​read young woman  –​was one of the most famous intellectuals in Venice at that time.There she held a literary salon with influential guests, such as Melchiorre Cesarotti (1730–​1808), Ippolito Pindemonte (1753–​ 1828), Antonio Canova (1757–​1822), Foscolo, Madame de Staël (1766–​1817), Dominique Vivant Denon (1747–​1825), George Gordon Byron (Lord Byron, 1788–​1824), Walter Scott (1771–​1832), Sir William Hamilton (1730–​1803), and Goethe. In 1807, Teotochi Albrizzi published her work Ritratti (Portraits) in which she presented several portraits and character descriptions of the people who were her guests in Venice. Ritratti was a big success and several editions followed the first publication. Teotochi Albrizzi was inspired by Lavater’s physiognomic analysis and followed many of his ideas. She explained through her descriptions the presence of signs on the face, which show the moral character of the described person. Teotochi Albrizzi used a pathognomical method for analysing the moveable facial expressions and a physiognomical method for examining the fixed features.49 Alfieri himself is even discussed in one of Teotochi Albrizzi’s portraits: One might almost say that in this face lays the image of a worried deity … As a wind, which in the throats of the high mountains becomes a terrible breeze, every passion becomes a storm in his heart. It burns, if he loves you, it freezes, if he despises you, and if he hates you … but he does not hate, except the vice.50 The other important female presence in Alfieri’s life is Louise of Stolberg-​ Gedern, countess of Albany, his friend and mistress. Alfieri lived with the countess for some time in Paris where she held a small literary salon. In 1792, the countess and Alfieri moved to Florence due to the political tension in Paris. In Florence, the countess’s literary salon was bigger and attended by many European literates: Stendhal (1783–​1842), Lord Byron, Madame de Staël, Alexander von Humboldt (1769–​1859), August Wilhelm Schlegel (1767–​1845), and others.51 In this cultural environment, Alfieri preached his dramatic theories as well as received many ideas from other writers. Alfieri travelled together with the countess around Europe and during one of his stays in Alsace, he met Gottlieb Konrad Pfeffel (1736–​1809), a poet and translator and also a friend of Johann Caspar Lavater.52 It would be wrong to assume that Alfieri knew about physiognomy only through these literary connections, but it is highly likely that they contributed to his physiognomical knowledge.

200  Maria-Christina Mur

Conclusion Alfieri, whose significance for Italian literature could be comparable to that of Dante Alighieri (1265–​1321) and Francesco Petrarch (1304–​1374), summarises in his tragedies many already existing theatrical concepts. He introduces new ideas, which in parts are pioneering from a genre-​related perspective. Alfieri’s theory of the tramelogedia follows known patterns with the addition of a new purpose: the new genre should emphasise the importance of the tragedy. The introduction of physiognomical elements helps to create a new understanding of the biblical figures Cain and Abel and a new judgement of Cain’s crime. Predestination is visible in the markings on the face. To conclude this chapter, I would like to address the last element of its title: the question of marginalisation. Alfieri’s tramelogedia should be considered as a highly interesting genre, both in relation to its creation and its characteristics. Nevertheless, literary research has marginalised Abéle, which has not been extensively studied and interpreted. The reasons for its marginalisation remain unclear. Almost no scholarly research of Italian literature in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries has devoted much attention to Alfieri’s tramelogedia. This could partly be explained by Alfieri’s own view of his genre invention. As he points out in the introduction to Abéle, this tramelogedia has the sole purpose of showing the importance of the tragedy. Alfieri’s scepticism about his own work might have influenced the literary scholars who analysed his other works. This chapter sheds new light on this almost forgotten work by highlighting its interesting creation and use of a well-​known biblical topic.

Notes 1 Mur, The Circulation of Physiognomical Discourse; Mur, The Physiognomical Discourse. In order to avoid confusion with the term ‘physiognomy’ for the general appearance and form of things without the scientific connotation, the theory of Physiognomy is written with the capital letter throughout this chapter. 2 Alfieri, Opere postume, 18. This volume contains Abéle and Le due Alcesti di Euripide. 3 Gerato, ‘Vittorio Alfieri’, 91. 4 McAnally, ‘The Alfierian Canon’. 5 ‘L’Alfieri è il poeta di poche ma travolgenti passioni: La libertà, la patria, la gloria, l’amore’. Santini, ‘Commemorando Vittorio Alfieri’, 207. 6 Pizzamiglio, ‘Vittorio Alfieri’, A History of Italian Theatre, 197. 7 Walsh, Ugo Foscolo’s Tragic Vision, 18; and Pizzamiglio, ‘Vittorio Alfieri’, 204. 8 According to McAnally, ‘The Alfierian Canon’:  the Siena edition (1783–​85), the Didot Paris edition (1787–​89), Opere Postume (1806) and the Pisa edition (1805–​15). 9 ‘Dalla soppressione assoluta d’ogni episodico incidente, d’ogni chiacchiera che non sviluppi passione, d’ogni operare che al termine per la più breve non tragga, ne è derivata di necessità la soppressione di tutti i personaggi non strettamente necessarissimi, e sotto un tale aspetto primari’. Alfieri, Tragedie e Vita, 567–​8. All translations from Italian are by this author unless otherwise indicated. 10 ‘semplice, naturale, e bastantemente motivata’. Ibid., 571. 11 ‘pure, corrette, e non fiacche’. Ibid., 574.

Vittorio Alfieri’s tramelogedia Abéle  201 12 The hendecasyllable (Italian: endecasillabo) is the principal meter in Italian poetry and drama and consists of a line of 11 syllables. The hendecasyllable blank verse describes a free and unrhymed verse. 13 ‘Dalla esposizione del metodo tenuto in queste, mi pare intanto di aver mostrato abbastanza, che un tal metodo è nuovo finora, e diverso in tutto da tutti i fin qui praticati. Non dimostrerò io già, che egli sia il migliore; a me non si aspetta il dirlo:  ma udirò con piacere, che altri mi dimostri che il presente metodo sia il peggiore’. Ibid., 568. 14 Alfieri, Vita scritta da esso, 185. 15 Ibid., 266. 16 ‘di andare in Toscana per avvezzarmi a parlare, udire, pensare, e sognare in toscano’. Ibid., 196. 17 Risorgimento, meaning ‘Rising Again’ or ‘Resurgence’, refers to the social and political movement that led to the establishment of the Kingdom of Italy in 1861 by uniting single states of the Italian Peninsula. 18 Two productions of his most famous tragedy Saul in the twenty-​first century are the adaptation for the Italian state broadcaster RAI in 1959 by the director Claudio Fino, and the performance at the Teatro del Loto in Campobasso (Southern Italy) in the seasons 2015/​2016 and 2016/​2017 (Director: Stefano Sabelli). 19 Alfieri, Vita scritta da esso, 280. 20 ‘finito, ma non limato’. Ibid., 304. 21 ‘Quanto poi al comporre, benchè io avessi il mio piano ideato per almeno altre cinque tramelogedie, sorelle dell’Abele, attese le passate ed anche presenti angustie dell’animo, mi si era spento il bollore giovanile inventivo, la fantasia accasciata, e gli anni preziosi ultimi della gioventù spuntati ed ottusi, direi, dalla stampa e dai guai, che per più di cinque anni mi avean sepolto l’animo, non me la sentivo più; ed in fatti dovei abbandonarne il pensiero, non mi trovando più il robusto furore necessario ad un tale pazzo genere. Smessa dunque quell’idea, che pur tanto mi era stata cara, mi volli rivolgere alle satire.’ Ibid., 319. 22 Ibid., 340. 23 ‘Io … ho intarsiata la parola melo nella parola tragedia, in maniera ch’ella non ne guastasse la terminazione, non badando alla radice del nome.’ Alfieri, Opere postume, 9. 24 ‘genere … mostruoso’. Ibid., 10. 25 ‘un vero teatro’. Ibid., 18. 26 ‘Finisco, augurando all’Italia, ch’ell’abbia una volta … un vero teatro, in cui si assegni a ciascun’arte il suo debito luogo; e che l’Opera, confinata dentro ai naturali suoi limiti di argomenti favolosi, scherzosi, e amorosi, non si usurpi più lungamente il primato su la divina tragedia. … Possa dunque la tramelogédia preparare in parte questo necessario e prezioso cangiamento, per cui gl’Italiani dalla loro effeminatissima Opera alla virile tragedia salendo, dalla nullità loro politica alla dignità di vera Nazione a un tempo stesso s’innalzino.’ Ibid., 18–​19. 27 Lessing, Hamburgische Dramaturgie, 14. Stück. 28 Gellert, Pro comoedia commovente. 29 Diderot, Œuvres de théâtre de M. Diderot. 30 Chassiron, Réflexions sur le comique-​lamoryant. 31 Some bibliography: Bernbaum, The Drama of Sensibility; Brooks, The Melodramatic Imagination; Castelvecchi, Sentimental Opera; Daunicht, Die Entstehung des bürgerlichen Trauerspiels; Degli Esposti, La scena del Romanticismo inglese (vols. 1 and 2); Fietz, ‘Zur

202  Maria-Christina Mur Genese des englischen Melodramas’; Fleming, Exemplarity and Mediocrity; Guthke, Das deutsche bürgerliche Trauerspiel; Kennedy, The Oxford Encyclopedia of Theatre and Performance; Nettleton, English Drama; Przyboś, L’entreprise mélodramatique; Ritzer, ‘Gewalt über unsre Leidenschaften’?; Schimpf, Lyrisches Theater; Sherbo, English Sentimental Drama; Szondi, Die Theorie des bürgerlichen Trauerspiels; Wehle, ‘Französisches Populardrama’. 32 This chapter does not refer to the melodrama as a kind of play where the plot and dialogue exclusively follow the musical composition as described, for example, in Branscombe, ‘Melodrama’. 33 Grantley, Historical Dictionary of British Theatre, 284. 34 Derived from Greek melos (μέλος), which means ‘melody’, and drama (δρᾶμα), which means ‘play’, ‘theatrical plot’. 35 Brooks, The Melodramatic Imagination, 48; Przyboś, L’entreprise mélodramatique, 148; Wehle, ‘Französisches Populardrama’, 157. 36 Mullin, The Development of the Playhouse, 62–​86; West, ‘Manufacturing Spectacle’, 286–​303. 37 Bratton, ‘Melodrama’, 841; Przyboś, L’entreprise mélodramatique, 61; Wehle, ‘Französisches Populardrama’, 161. 38 ‘Die Schönheit und Häßlichkeit des Angesichts hat ein richtiges und genaues Verhältnis zur Schönheit und Häßlichkeit der moralischen Beschaffenheit des Menschen. Je moralisch besser; desto schöner. Je moralisch schlimmer; desto häßlicher.’ Lavater, Physiognomische Fragmente, 183.Translation by Holcroft in Lavater, Essays on Physiognomy, 182–​3. 39 Inspired by the novel with the same title by François Guillaume Ducray-​Duminil (1761–​1819). Music composed by Adrien Quaisain (1766–​1828). See Pisani, Music for the Melodramatic Theatre, 48. 40 Music composed by Thomas Busby (1755–​ 1838). See Pisani, ‘Music for the Theatre’, 75. 41 Composed by Georg Benda (1722–​1795), with a German libretto by Brandes. Benda’s libretto is based on a cantata by Heinrich Wilhelm von Gerstenberg (1737–​ 1823). See Schimpf, Lyrisches Theater, 25. 42 Di Benedetto, Vittorio Alfieri, 53. 43 Although the title of the play is using ‘Abéle’ (with an accent acute), the name of the character in the play is written ‘Abele’ without the accent. 44 Alfieri’s annotation of this description: ‘This idea is taken from Milton.An ingenious stagehand may enjoy to carry it out; as may a skilful composer, by imitating with musical sounds the slow retrogression of the scenes.’ (‘Questo pensiero è tolto dal Milton. Un ingegnoso macchinista avrà campo di sbizzarrirsi nell’eseguirlo: come pure un abile Maestro di Musica, nell’imitare coi suoni questa retrocessione lenta delle Scene.’). Alfieri, Opere postume,  29–​30. 45 See Hilary, ‘Biblical Exegesis in Alfieri’s “Saul” ’; Mazzaro, ‘Alfieri’s Saul as enlightenment Tragedy’; Trivero, ‘Il “Saul” di Vittorio Alfieri’. 46 For further reading about interpretations on the Cain and Abel passage in the Bible, see Byron, Cain and Abel in Text and Tradition. 47 ‘Der Mensch ist frey, wie der Vogel im Keffich. Er hat seinen bestimmten, unüberschreitbaren Wirkungs-​und Empfindungskreis. Jeder hat, wie einen besondern Umriß seines Körpers, so einen bestimmten, unveränderlichen Spielraum.’ Lavater Physiognomische Fragmente, 166; Translation by Holcroft in Lavater, Essays on Physiognomy, 166.

Vittorio Alfieri’s tramelogedia Abéle  203 48 ‘Jeder muß bleiben, wer er ist. Er kann sich nur auf einen gewissen Grad ausbreiten, vervollkommen, entwickeln. … Jedes Menschen Physiognomie und Charakter kann sich erstaunlich verändern; Aber doch nur auf eine so und so bestimmte Weise. Jeder hat einen grossen Spielraum; Der Kleinste hat ein groß gut Stück Feld, auf welches er mancherley, nach des Bodens Art, säen kann. Aber er kann nur den Saamen säen, den er empfangen hat.’ Lavater Physiognomische Fragmente, 168. Translation by Holcroft in Lavater, Essays on Physiognomy, 168. 49 ‘Man unterscheidet richtig Physiognomik und Pathognomik. Jene … ist Kenntniß der Zeichen der Kräfte und Anlagen des Menschen; Diese Kenntniß der Zeichen der Leidenschaften. Die Physiognomik zeigt den stehenden, die Pathognomik den bewegten Charakter.’ (‘Physiognomy is properly distinguished from pathognomy … Physiognomy is the knowledge of the signs of the powers and inclinations of men. Pathognomy is the knowledge of the signs of the passions. Physiognomy, therefore, teaches the knowledge of character at rest; and pathognomy of character in motion.’) Ibid., 20. Translation by Holcroft in Lavater, Essays on Physiognomy, 20. 50 ‘Si direbbe quasi, che in quel volto l’immagine respiri d’una divinità corrucciata. … Come soffio di vento, che nelle gole d’alte, ed aggruppate montagne diventa terribile, ogni passione diventa tempesta nel suo cuore. Arde se t’ama, è di gelo, se ti disprezza, e se t’odia, … ma non odio, che il vizio.’ Albrizzi, Ritratti,  95–​96. 51 See Speake, ed., Literature of Travel and Exploration, 445. 52 See Beck-​Bernard, Théophile-​Conrad Pfeffel de Colmar, 20.

Bibliography Alfieri,Vittorio. Opere postume di Vittorio Alfieri: Tomo I: Abéle –​Le due Alcesti di Euripide. Londra [Firenze]: [Piatti], 1804. Alfieri, Vittorio. Vita scritta da esso. Milan:  Giovanni Silvestri, 1823. First published 1806. Alfieri,Vittorio. Tragedie e Vita. Florence: Società Editrice Fiorentina, 1842. Alfieri, Vittorio. The Tragedies of Vittorio Alfieri: Complete, including his posthumous works translated from the Italian, 2  vols. Translated and edited by Edgar Alfred Bowring. London: George Bell & Sons, 1876. Beck-​Bernard, Lina. Théophile-​ Conrad Pfeffel de Colmar:  Souvenirs Biographiques. Lausannes: Delafontaine, Rouge, 1866. Bernbaum, Ernst. The Drama of Sensibility: A Sketch of the History of English Sentimental Comedy and Domestic Tragedy 1696–​1780. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1925. Branscombe, Peter. ‘Melodrama’. In Grove Music Online. https://​doi.org/​10.1093/​gmo/​ 9781561592630.article.18355. Bratton, Jacky. ‘Melodrama’. In The Oxford Encyclopedia of Theatre and Performance, 840–​2. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. Brooks, Peter. The Melodramatic Imagination: Balzac, Henry James, Melodrama, and the Mode of Excess. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1976. Byron, John. Cain and Abel in Text and Tradition: Jewish and Christian Interpretations of the First Sibling Rivalry. Leiden: Brill Academic Publishers, 2011. Castelvecchi, Stefano. Sentimental Opera: Questions of Genre in the Age of Bourgeois Drama. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013. Chassiron, Pierre-​ Mathieu de. Réflexions sur le comique-​ lamoryant. Paris:  Durand, Pissot, 1749.

204  Maria-Christina Mur Daunicht, Richard. Die Entstehung des bürgerlichen Trauerspiels in Deutschland. Berlin: De Gruyter, 1965. Degli Esposti, Paola. La scena del Romanticismo inglese (1807–​1833). Volume 1: Poetiche teatrali e tecniche d’attore. Padova: Esedra, 2001. Degli Esposti, Paola. La scena del Romanticismo inglese (1807–​1833): Volume 2: I luoghi teatrali, i generi, la spettacolarità. Padova: Esedra, 2003. Di Benedetto,Arnaldo. Vittorio Alfieri: Le passioni e il limite. Napoli: Liguori Editore, 1987. Diderot, Denis. Œuvres de théâtre de M. Diderot avec un discours sur la poésie dramatique, vol. 2. Amsterdam: n.p., 1772. Fietz, Lothar.‘Zur Genese des englischen Melodramas aus der Tradition der bürgerlichen Tragödie und des Rührstücks: Lillo –​ Schröder –​ Kotzebue –​ Sheridan –​ Thompson –​ Jerrold’. Deutsche Vierteljahresschrift für Literatur und Geistesgeschichte 65, no. 1 (March 1991): 99–​116. Fleming, Paul. Exemplarity and Mediocrity: The Art of the Average from Bourgeois Tragedy to Realism. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2008. Gellert, Christian Fürchtegott. Pro comoedia commovente. Leipzig: Langenheim, 1751. Gerato, Erasmo G. ‘Vittorio Alfieri: The Artist in His Creation’. Rocky Mountain Review of Language and Literature 35, no. 2 (1981): 91–​98. Grantley, Darryll. Historical Dictionary of British Theatre: Early Period. Lanham: Scarecrow Press, 2013. Guthke, Karl. Das deutsche bürgerliche Trauerspiel. Stuttgart: Metzler, 2006. Hilary, Richard B. ‘Biblical Exegesis in Alfieri’s “Saul”’. South Atlantic Bulletin 38, no. 2 (1973): 3–​7. Kennedy, Dennis, ed. The Oxford Encyclopedia of Theatre and Performance. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. Lavater, Johann Caspar. Essays on Physiognomy. For the Promotion of the Knowledge and the Love of Mankind, vol. 1. Translated by Thomas Holcroft. London: C. Whittingham, 1804. Lavater, Johann Caspar. Physiognomische Fragmente, zur Beförderung der Menschenkenntniß und Menschenliebe. Winterthur: Steiner, 1783. First published 1775. Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim. Hamburgische Dramaturgie. Bremen: Cramer, 1767. Mazzaro, Jerome. ‘Alfieri’s Saul as Enlightenment Tragedy’. Comparative Drama 33, no. 1 (1999): 125–​39. McAnally, Henry. ‘The Alfierian Canon’. The Modern Language Review 44, no. 1 (1949): 1–​16. Mullin, Donald C. The Development of the Playhouse: Survey of the Theatre Architecture from the Renaissance to the Present. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1970. Mur, Maria-​Christina. The Circulation of Physiognomical Discourse in European Theatrical Culture, 1780–​1830. Diss., University of Bologna, 2016. Mur, Maria-​Christina. The Physiognomical Discourse and European Theatre:  Theory, Performance, Dramatic Text. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 2017. Nettleton, George Henry. English Drama of the Restoration and Eighteenth Century 1642–​ 1780. New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 1975. Pisani, Michael. ‘Music for the Theatre’. In The Cambridge Companion to Victorian and Edwardian Theatre, 70–​92. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Pisani, Michael. Music for the Melodramatic Theatre in Nineteenth-​Century London and New York. Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press, 2014. Pizzamiglio, Gilberto. ‘Vittorio Alfieri’. In A History of Italian Theatre, edited by Joseph Farrell and Paolo Puppa, 195–​204. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Przyboś, Julia. L’entreprise mélodramatique. Paris: Libraire José Corti, 1987.

Vittorio Alfieri’s tramelogedia Abéle  205 Ritzer, Monika.‘ “Gewalt über unsre Leidenschaften”? Pathos und Pathetik der Emotion in der Tragödienästhetik der Aufklärung’. KulturPoetik 12, no. 1 (2012): 1–​40. Santini, Emilio. ‘Commemorando Vittorio Alfieri’. Italica 26, no. 3 (1949): 205–​7. Schimpf, Wolfgang. Lyrisches Theater:  Das Melodrama des 18. Jahrhunderts. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1988. Sherbo, Arthur. English Sentimental Drama. East Lansing, MI: Michigan State University Press, 1957. Speake, Jennifer, ed. Literature of Travel and Exploration:  An Encyclopedia, vol. 1, A-​F. London: Routledge, 2013. Szondi, Peter. Die Theorie des bürgerlichen Trauerspiels im 18. Jahrhundert. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1973. Teotochi Albrizzi, Isabella. Ritratti. Padova: [Nicolò Zanon Bettoni], 1808. Trivero, Paola. ‘Il “Saul” di Vittorio Alfieri’. Altre Modernità: Numero Speciale La Bibbia in scena (2011): 159–​168. https://​doi.org/​10.13130/​2035–​7680/​1176 Walsh, Rachel A. Ugo Foscolo’s Tragic Vision in Italy and England. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2014. Wehle, Winfried. ‘Französisches Populardrama zur Zeit des Empire und der Restauration’. In Neues Handbuch der Literaturwissenschaft: Bd.15 Europäische Romantik, edited by Klaus Heitmann, 153–​71. Wiesbaden:  Akademische Verlagsgesellschaft Athenaion, 1982. West, Shearer. ‘Manufacturing Spectacle’. In The Oxford Handbook of the Georgian Theatre 1737–​1832, edited by Julia Swindells and David Francis Taylor, 286–​303. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014.

11  Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar A rejected Singspiel performed Annabella Skagen

Introduction In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, Det Kongelige Teater (the Royal Theatre) in Copenhagen held a singular status in the twin kingdoms of Denmark and Norway as a royally sanctioned, permanent and professional public theatre, with exclusive rights to giving public performances in Danish in the capital.1 The theatre’s repertory was influenced by international trends and audience preferences, as well as by public criticism, state politics, and the availability of new plays in the Danish language. In a period predecessing the formal formation of literary or theatrical canons, Det Kongelige Teater’s repertory played a vital role in setting the national standard for artistic merit as well as public taste, exercising a considerable impact on theatre practices and public opinion in the twin kingdoms of Denmark-​Norway.2 To a certain extent, the provincial dramatic societies’ repertories would appear to reflect that of the capital’s ‘canon’, as it were. In the towns outside of Copenhagen, the general theatrical fare was likely to consist of a mix of up-​to-​ date continental bourgeois drama, comedies and Singspiele, with a considerable contribution by Danish-​Norwegian dramatists. However, there are occasional deviations, where plays not performed by Det Kongelige Teater would prove popular with the dramatic societies. In this chapter, I  will present one such play, repeatedly rejected by Det Kongelige Teater’s censors, but performed in other theatrical contexts, both in Denmark and in Norway.3 Originally written as a Singspiel in 1804 (published 1805) by the young Danish poet Adam Gottlob Oehlenschläger (1779–​1850), Freyas Altar (Freya’s Altar) is today largely unknown outside the circles of literary historians.4 While the scholarly interest in Freyas Altar until now has mainly been part of a literary discourse, often centring on the public debate following the publication of a rewriting in 1816, my approach will be to study the original Singspiel version within the context of theatrical production. The repeated rejections by the theatre censors in 1804 and 1816 marginalised Freyas Altar by firmly placing it outside of Det Kongelige Teater’s repertory.Their verdicts were later confirmed by nineteenth and twentieth century literary historians, excluding the play from the dramatic and literary canon its author

Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar  207 was otherwise pivotal in establishing.5 Even so, several social milieus outside Det Kongelige Teater apparently considered it relevant for their own purposes. Within the framework of this publication –​Relevance and Marginalisation –​the case of Freyas Altar will serve as an example of how reception and relevance might differ in differing contexts. This chapter does not aim to reassess Freyas Altar in terms of its literary or dramatic merit, or to reinstate it as part of the Oehlenschläger or Dano-​ Norwegian literary canon. Instead, I will present the play as a ‘double’ case study. My primary aim is to investigate the Singspiel’s dramatic characteristics with a view to what its various receptions might reveal about differing conceptions of relevance within different theatrical contexts.What distinguished the assessment of Freyas Altar at Det Kongelige Teater, causing it to be marginalised from the authoritative repertory, from the assessment of the local theatrical communities, who found it relevant for staging? While evidence concerning local, provincial performance practices is often scarce, various sources offer rare pieces of information about the reception and staging of Freyas Altar in Norway, including the local composition of stage music. Some of this evidence is hitherto unknown, and it has never previously been presented as part of systematic historiographic theatre research. The second object of my investigation is therefore to present this evidence, with the aim of contributing to a more nuanced understanding of local theatrical practices at a certain moment in time –​practices that would otherwise have remained obscure. With the Trondheim staging in 1814 as a case in point, what may we learn about local performance practices from this production?6 And what made the local theatrical community take a different view of the play than the censors of Det Kongelige Teater? Methodical approach and structure This chapter takes as its empirical basis the Singspiel version of Freyas Altar printed in 1805, as well as various written sources concerning its rejections by Det Kongelige Teater in 1804 and in 1816, and its local reception and productions in Trondheim and, to a smaller extent, Christiania, in the period 1807–​1814. My main methodical approach will be to present an analysis of the play’s dramatic contents and distinctive traits, which will be discussed against the contextual evidence relating to its differing receptions by Det Kongelige Teater’s censors and the theatrical community in Trondheim. The chapter is divided into two parts. In the first part, I present an overview of the play’s various editions and reworkings. I then give a summary of the dramatic content of the 1805 edition, followed by a commentary on some of the play’s aesthetic tendencies, with regard to what made the censors in Copenhagen reject the play. In the second part, I make a more detailed investigation into the varied source materials surrounding the Norwegian reception and theatrical productions of Freyas Altar during the first decades of the nineteenth century, when two different theatrical communities staged the Singspiel

208  Annabella Skagen with music written by local composers. The main focus is given to the production taking place in Trondheim in 1814. I  end this section with a short discussion of the political implications of three other plays that were staged in Trondheim while not at Det Kongelige Teater, before I sum up my findings.

Part 1: The printed play Historical background (1804–​1828) Upon reaching 50 years of age, the Danish author Adam Oehlenschläger was to be publicly hailed by his Scandinavian peers and crowned with laurels as ‘Nordens Digterkonge’ (the Nordic poet-​king).7 Twenty-​five years earlier, in the summer of 1804, the aspiring Oehlenschläger had submitted his Singspiel Freyas Altar to the manager of Det Kongelige Teater in Copenhagen, Adam Wilhelm Hauch (1755–​1838).8 He had apparently been working at it for some time, on the understanding that it was going to be produced on stage after certain changes were made. However, the theatre’s board of directors eventually rejected the play.9 The letter from the board is short, refraining from a detailed critique, but stating four main reasons for the rejection: (1) the play was far too voluminous for a theatre production, (2) it lacked characters of an interesting nature, (3) it went against good taste in several respects, and (4) its witticisms were uniform and tedious. Seemingly undeterred, Oehlenschläger had the play published the following year, as the opening piece in the first volume of the collection Poetiske Skrifter (Poetic Writings).10 According to literary historian Aage Jørgensen, the collection received only one, brief review, making a special mention of Freyas Altar as the best piece.11 Although the play was not performed at Det Kongelige Teater, fragments of it appeared on its stage on two occasions. Some scenes were re-​used by Oehlenschläger in his libretto to the Singspiel Ludlams Hule (Ludlam’s Cave) in 1814. And in the late winter of 1816, a few scenes from the first two acts of Freyas Altar were performed at Det Kongelige Teater in a concert version.12 The concert on 28 February was a benefit for a retiring theatre musician, the clarinettist Philip Wachtelbrenner. Two days later, scenes from Freyas Altar and Ludlams Hule were given as a benefit to Oehlenschläger himself. According to Oehlenschläger, the Singspiel had also been given in private performance, presumably in Copenhagen, on several occasions. This might have renewed Oehlenschläger’s ambition of having it staged in full at Det Kongelige Teater. A rewritten version, replacing the three-​act Singspiel with a five-​act spoken Lustspiel (Danish Lystspil –​a light, comical play), was submitted to Det Kongelige Teater’s new board in the spring of 1816.13 The piece was again rejected –​technically, for the third time.14 To make matters worse, one of the theatre’s censors was Oehlenschläger’s brother-​in-​law, the literary critic Knud Lyne Rahbek (1760–​1830). According to Rahbek, the rewriting of the play had only served to lessen its attraction.15 The rejection was followed by

Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar  209 a public controversy.16 One last rewriting of the play into a vaudeville in 1828 finally saw it produced at Det Kongelige Teater –​but for two nights only. On the capital’s public and professional stage, Freyas Altar remained the canonised Oehlenschläger’s rejected failure. Dramatic action Freyas Altar takes place in a Danish village in Zealand. A  young poet by the name of Guilielmo has just arrived from Italy, when he stumbles upon a pleasant grove, where he finds a picturesque pile of old boulders. He pronounces them an ancient shrine to Love and carves the name of Freya (the Norse goddess of love) into a boulder. With these actions, the goddess’ magic is conjured –​the game of love can begin. Guilielmo immediately sets out to the task, freshly stealing kisses from the passing maid Beate. After they have left, a schoolmaster and his pupils enter the grove to rehearse a song for the birthday party of Beate’s mistress Clausine the next day. The schoolmaster is struck with his discovery of what he presumes to be an ancient ‘Freya’s altar’. Clausine is being wooed by the ageing nobleman Herr von Bilbo, who dresses up in brand new clothes to impress the young lady, although he is himself apparently something of a relic –​and prone to excessive swearing. When Bilbo arrives at Clausine’s house, she firmly refuses him, telling him she has left him a present in the forest grove to signify her true feelings. Clausine is really in love with a young man, Wilhelm, whom she met abroad some years ago. After Bilbo has left, several visitors appear. Firstly, a gardener comes, seeking employment. Then the schoolmaster and his former pupil, the simple-​minded Jakob, arrive. Jakob claims he has dug out a mummy from an ancient burial hill. Disappointingly, the ‘mummy’ turns out to be an old rotting gatepost. Clausine’s father, Colonel Hielm, however, is excited to hear of the schoolmaster’s ‘pagan altar’, and it is decided that Clausine’s birthday party should be celebrated in the grove. Meanwhile, Bilbo finds Clausine’s ‘present’ –​an empty clothes basket with a letter of rejection.17 To add insult to injury, he also receives news that his long-​ gone son, Wilhelm, has unexpectedly arrived, posing as a lowly guitar player. Bilbo is overtaken with shame, and is carried offstage inside the basket, by his servant. In act 2, Clausine’s chambermaid Beate admits to being in love with the gardener, while Clausine pines for her long-​lost Wilhelm. During the night, a series of comical scenes unfold. Guilielmo is looking for Beate’s window to serenade her. His father, Herr Bilbo, furious about his son’s departure to Italy, has disguised himself as a farmer. Jakob (still carrying a sack with the gatepost), the schoolmaster (playing the bagpipe) and the gardener are also about; all rivals for Beate’s attention. The antics continue as the action moves to the grove, where Guilielmo enters, approaches the ‘altar’, spreads his arms out in the dark –​and finds himself embracing Beate’s three suitors, whom he then mocks mercilessly.

210  Annabella Skagen Act 3 opens the next morning in the colonel’s house, where a short quarrel and an interrupted duel take place between him and Guilielmo. Meanwhile Clausine, having now recognised Guilielmo as Wilhelm, meets him at the grove, where all misunderstandings between the lovers are eventually cleared. Having made both of their fathers furious, they decide they will now have to elope and seek refuge in a farmhouse nearby. The house belongs to none other than Herr Bilbo, who is now busy making arrangements for his son to marry a rich widow. Clausine enters, realising too late the ‘farmer’s’ identity as she spots her own clothes basket. Bilbo takes the opportunity to yell at his son: ‘You tramp! You layabout. You –​you –​you –​ you  –​ you  –​ artist!’18 But on receiving the unexpected news that the rich widow would rather marry himself than Guilielmo, Bilbo has a change of mind. However, as punishment for their disrespect, the young couple must agree to be carried to Clausine’s birthday party in her own basket. At the grove, Beate has already been united with her gardener, and a group of peasants arrive, carrying flowers and playing musical instruments. When Bilbo enters with the basket, Clausine jumps out and begs her father’s forgiveness. On hearing that Guilielmo is Bilbo’s son, who will eventually inherit the widow, Hielm accepts the match, while Bilbo himself hurries off to make it to the widow before she dies.The colonel puts the young couple’s hands together, the peasant chorus sings of the lovely grove, the girls throw flowers around the couple, and the play ends with dancing and the singing of folk tunes.19 Poetry in motion: Romanticism on the stage On the surface, the structure of Freyas Altar mimics that of classical comedy, where the conflict resides between the generations, and is resolved with the young people getting their way after showing their elders their due respect. The disagreement over who is to marry whom dissolves into thin air, as the intrigue is settled by the introduction of a wealthy widow. However, the idyllic ending seems to cover up the controversial aspects of the life choices made by the young artist-​hero, which are in conflict not only with his father’s wishes, but seemingly also with bourgeois society’s ideals of prudency.This is one of several ways in which Freyas Altar –​while referred to as a farce by the author –​reveals its romantic character.20 While the Danish Singspiele of the late eighteenth century were often primarily rational and satirical or panegyric in tone, Freyas Altar appears like a pastoral comedy in an imaginary Midsummer Night’s dreamy Zealand, where the mythological imagery of an ancient love goddess is interchanged with the comic, sometimes crude elements associated with the traditional pantomime. The influence of Shakespeare on Oehlenschläger’s writings is well established.21 The apparent similarities between Freyas Altar and A Midsummer Night’s Dream are underlined by the fact that Oehlenschläger himself published a Danish translation of this play in 1816 (En Skiærsommernats Drøm) –​the same year as when the second edition of Freyas Altar came out.

Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar  211 One aspect of the play where the Shakespearean influence comes into focus is language. In most Danish Singspiele in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the spoken lines were written in prose, while the songs would follow various patterns of rhymed verse. In some cases, the spoken lines were written in a regular iambic pentameter, or blank verse.22 The separation between sung (rhyming verse) and spoken lines (blank verse or prose) was generally easily distinguished in the printed editions of the plays. This distinction is harder to judge in the case of Freyas Altar. In the 1805 Singspiel, the spoken prose sometimes changes fluidly into rhyming, dialogic verse. An example of this can be found in the scene in Act 1 where Guilielmo attempts to make love to Beate, the maid: Guilielmo: Beate! A very happy name. Pretty Beate give me a kiss. Beate: How can you ask such a thing from me. Guilielmo: embraces her: Oh what a narrow waist is this. Beate: Mr. Musician, please let me be. a

Guilielmo: Beate! Et meget lykkeligt Navn. Smukke Beate et Kys mig giv. Beate: Hvor kan De dog sligt begiere. Guilielmo: favner hende: O hvor du har et smekkert Liv. Beate: Herr Spillemand lad mig være.a

 Oehlenschläger, Freyas Altar, 9.

That such lines were indeed meant to be spoken is made clear from Oehlenschläger’s letter accompanying his second draft of the play submitted to Det Kongelige Teater’s manager A. W. Hauch in early July 1804. Here he comments on the revisions he has made to the songs since his first draft: ‘Part of what still remains is only intended to be recited without song’.23 The rhyming spoken lines are frequently coordinated with stage directions, ‘embraces her’/​’kisses her’/​‘wipes her mouth’.24 In this way, the verse dialogue is made direct dramatic action. Part of the explanation for these occurrences of spoken verse might be found in Oehlenschläger’s original attempts to shorten the play by reducing the musical numbers. However, this flexibility in the Singspiel’s spoken lines, alternating between prose and varied metric, rhyming verse, might also be understood as a reflection of the Shakespearean influence on Oehlenschläger and the introduction of romanticism in Dano-​Norwegian literature and theatre. Another expression of a romantic tendency can be found in the hero’s moral qualities. The doubling of the name Wilhelm/​Guilielmo connotes the dual –​to some recipients, even dubious –​aspects of his character.The German-​ sounding –​and, within a Danish context, more familiar –​name of Wilhelm might have seemed conventional and therefore reliable. While the patrimonial surname ‘von Bilbo’ was likely to awaken a certain sense of the comical, the ‘von’ nevertheless signifies noble ancestry. In contrast to these allusions to German solidity stands Wilhelm’s Italian alias, Guilielmo, signifying a romantic defiance of Lutheran duty in exchange for frivolity, the arts, and possibly even a licentious love ideal. This opposition finds its clearest expression in the play

212  Annabella Skagen when the German father ‘Herr Bilbo’, who generally practises a rich vocabulary of abusive terms, can find no worse insult to shout at his own son than the name of artist. Guilielmo lives up to this accusation by firmly rejecting his father’s ambitions on his behalf –​even to the point of taking liberties with the former’s funds –​in favour of a ‘career’ as a free spirit. In Guilielmo’s opinion, his filial duties offer no real moral challenge to his own aspirations –​only the calling of true love can rival his calling as an artist. A frequent theme in the bourgeois drama from the period is that of the young hero set towards a career as a civil servant, a productive and knowledgeable farmer or artisan, or a follower in his father’s footsteps as a hard-​working merchant or even a progressive nobleman.25 The general tone of Freyas Altar seems to justify Guilielmo in rising above such petty concerns as his future prospects or ability to support a family. And as his father will be marrying the rich widow, he is, in the end, exempt from them. While the generational conflict is thus idyllically settled, the Singspiel’s solution could be seen as a negation of the accepted view of the theatre as a place to teach conventional bourgeois morals. A matter of taste In the short rejection letter from 1804, Det Kongelige Teater’s board had summed up the main shortcomings of Freyas Altar as the play being too long, lacking in interesting characters, failing to meet general standards of good taste, and with repetitive witticisms. Possibly trying to stay ahead of his critics, Oehlenschläger himself ascertained in his preface to the Poetiske Skrifter the following year that one would look in vain for strong characters, true seriousness or great events. Instead, ‘a few comical persons and some that are in love run about an old rock in a forest throughout the whole of the play, seemingly devoid of purpose’.26 In fact, he declared that his sole purpose had been to amuse, by way of an ‘overgivent’ play.27 The term overgivent, which Oehlenschläger kept returning to, might be translated into ‘frolicking’, ‘frivolous’, or ‘with abandon’. Although the theatre’s board and Oehlenschläger seemed to have a common understanding of the play’s frivolous nature, the question remained whether this was a good or a bad thing. In other words, the play’s relative worth was a matter of taste. While the 1805 preface does not openly address the rejection by Det Kongelige Teater, Oehlenschläger wrote a preface to the 1816 Lustspiel version, while he was still waiting for the new verdict by Det Kongelige Teater. Here he himself raised the question of taste.28 He repeatedly defended the element of frivolity (overgivenhed) as appealing to those readers possessing a ‘sound taste’.29 In the years since 1804, Oehlenschläger had had some 11 plays accepted for performance at Det Kongelige Teater, and did not expect to be slighted. When the board rejected the new Freyas Altar, referring curtly to their predecessors’ verdict 12 years earlier, Oehlenschläger took his dispute with Det Kongelige Teater public, in a pamphlet addressed ‘Til Publikum: I Anledning af Lystspillet Freias Alter, forkastet af Theatercensorerne’ (‘To the Audience, on Occasion of the Lustspiel Freya’s Altar, Rejected by the Theatre Censors’).30

Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar  213 As the board had given no further explanation for its rejection of the Lustspiel, Oehlenschläger referred to the reasons stated in 1804. Might the issue of frivolity, as pointed out by Oehlenschläger himself, have been part of Det Kongelige Teater’s problem with the play, besides from its more technical deficiencies? There are instances of mild raciness in Freyas Altar, of a type generally seldom found in the Danish bourgeois repertory at the time. One example is when the amorous Herr von Bilbo exclaims, ‘One must carry one’s heart in one’s trousers when one desires to please the ladies’.31 Another example is Oehlenschläger’s inclusion of the traditional Danish song, Munken gaaer i Enge (The monk wanders in the fields).32 Although the play only renders the first, rather innocent, verse, the song’s raunchy, if poetic, lyrics about a monk and his nightly doings would be well known to the audience. Another element that might have met with opposition was Bilbo’s unrestrained swearing.33 Last, but not least, Guilielmo’s equally unrestrained ideas about erotic morals, pursuing Beate as a pastime while still searching for his long-​lost Clausine, was in all likelihood perceived to be in conflict with conventional conceptions of virtue.The romantic portrayal of the young man as an artist, to whom other moral laws than those of convention apply, lies at the heart of this conflict. The fact that Rahbek pointed out examples of raciness in the 1816 Lustspiel version supports the assumption that frivolity was among the elements considered by the censors to be in bad taste already in 1804.34 Oehlenschläger, however, denied the relevance of the 1804 verdict, declaring himself an authority in questions of taste, as he held a professorship in aesthetics at the University of Copenhagen.35 He insisted that his play contained nothing indecent, but had a sound moral tendency, placing art, loyalty, grace, and talent in opposition to pedantry, vanity, and selfishness, and that it had apparently met with approval in good society, including the most ‘exquisite’ companies of ladies.36 He further argued that ‘taste’ was a question of good authority and public opinion, not of abstract rules, and that the committee should have left it to the audience to judge.37 As he well knew, Freyas Altar had already met with more enthusiasm in educated circles other than Det Kongelige Teater’s censors.

Part 2: The play performed Off-​Copenhagen: Circulation and performance in the provinces One of Oehlenschläger’s arguments in favour of his play was that it had been pleasing Danish audiences for 12 years, both in reading and in performance by various private theatres.38 And although Professor Rahbek gently opposed the idea that Freyas Altar had been received with such unequivocal enthusiasm as claimed by Oehlenschläger, it cannot be denied that Freyas Altar had indeed been circulated and performed outside of Det Kongelige Teater.39 Although not mentioned by Oehlenschläger, this circulation includes the Norwegian provinces of Christiania and Trondheim.40

214  Annabella Skagen Several instances describe how the play was put to use in Trondheim, though initially not on the stage. The first written account dates from 1807. The young Irishman William Allingham (1789–​1866) kept a diary when he resided in Trondheim during 1805–​1807, and he noted down his reactions after reading Freyas Altar.41 A diligent and enthusiastic reader, who at other times would specifically comment on a given play’s moral qualities, the 17-​year-​old Allingham wrote of Freyas Altar that ‘it is an excellent Piece & has a great deal of merit …, & indeed the whole is on a very good Plan’.42 Allingham did not belong to Trondheim’s theatre milieu. However, his approval may be seen as an expression of the reception of the play within parts of the local bourgeois circles in Norway at the time. Another evidence of the play’s circulation in Trondheim is found five years later, in the hand-​written songbook of the merchant’s daughter Else Wensell (1789–​1861), who was born the same year as Allingham.43 Among the various popular tunes in her book, dated 1812, is the song ‘Gak bort, du kielne Hyrde’ (Go away, you tender shepherd), taken from the second act, where Guilielmo thinks he is serenading Beate, but is actually overheard by Clausine.44 The duet is rendered identical to the 1805 edition, apart from the omission of one of Guilielmo’s lines (clearly intended as a spoken aside in the play).45 This suggests that Else Wensell’s notes were intended to function independently of the play. Otherwise, the graphic image of her copy is similar to that of the printed text, with the characters’ names heading their alternating verses.This is the only incident of such a graphic arrangement in the songbook, which indicates that she copied it from the actual playtext. The third occurrence of Freyas Altar in source material from Trondheim is the theatrical performance of the Singspiel in the end of May and early June 1814.46 Four performances were given, including the public dress rehearsal with lowered ticket rates. The last performance seems to have been staged ‘by popular demand’, indicating that the previous performances had been well visited, maybe even sold out.47 Four performances was a highly respectable run in a town of no more than 10,000 inhabitants. In Christiania, Freyas Altar is known to have been performed in 1825 and 1832.48 Until now, these have been the only registered Christiania performances. However, a diary entry made in November 1816 by the clergyman and diarist Claus Pavels (1769–​1822) indicates that Freyas Altar had already been performed by Det dramatiske Selskab (the Dramatic Society) in Christiania by that time.49 Although rejected by the censors of Det Kongelige Teater in Copenhagen, Freyas Altar was apparently found proper for presentation in the Norwegian provinces. What do we know about these productions and the reception of the play in Norway? Music for Freyas Altar in Norway In general, there is often very little source material available on the use of theatre music in Norway in this period. Freyas Altar represents an exception. In

Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar  215 the case of Christiania, it would be possible to argue that we cannot know for certain whether the early performance was based on the 1805 Singspiel or the 1816 Lustspiel. However, there is evidence that music for staging Freyas Altar was at one point produced here. In 1818, the accomplished amateur composer Hans Hagerup Falbe (1772–​1830) composed a prologue to the new king, Karl III Johan’s (1763–​1844) birthday. According to music historian Gunnar Rugstad, the manuscript for this royal prologue lacks an overture, but carries the instruction that the overture from Freyas Altar is to be used.50 This in itself is not proof that the overture in question was also written by Falbe. But new evidence makes it highly likely that Freyas Altar had indeed been performed in Christiania, with Falbe’s music (Figure 11.1). Among the hand-​ written musical manuscripts by Falbe kept in the Norwegian National Library are two excerpts from a short Singspiel, or prologue, Fredsfesten (The Peace Festival), written by the Danish-​Norwegian physician and author Hans Iver Horn (1761–​1836) in celebration of a military armistice between Denmark-​Norway and Sweden in 1809. The piece was performed in both Christiania and Trondheim early in 1810. When investigating this play, I discovered that in one of the musical excerpts from Fredsfesten, the original lines had been crossed out and replaced with the lines from the final chorus from Freyas Altar.51 Only one slight adjustment to the lyrics had been made, in the form of an added extra syllable, probably to make the words fit music originally written for a different text.52 This strengthens the assumption that the music for Freyas Altar in Christiania was actually written by Hans Hagerup Falbe. It also suggests that the early Christiania performance of Freyas Altar took place between 1810 and 1816, and that this was indeed the 1805 Singspiel version. The Trondheim production took place in 1814, when only the 1805 Singspiel version of the play was available. Rather unusually, there is some information about the music made for this production as well. The local theatre historian Johan Lebrecht Hornemann (1846–​1928) relates that the town musician, Peter Eberg (1766–​1815), had written music for the Singspiel Freyas Altar.53 Eberg had been the town musician since 1793. He was a versatile craftsman who headed the two local theatre orchestras, both of them consisting of a mix of professional and amateur performers, typical for provincial musical life.54 According to Hornemann, Eberg’s music for Freyas Altar had met with local enthusiasm. After the production in Trondheim, the sheet music was sent to Copenhagen on Eberg’s request and never returned. It is now considered lost.55 As many other town musicians, Peter Eberg was a composer of occasional music. Not much is known about his musical output, which seems to have consisted largely of popular dance tunes and music for public occasions.56 Composing the music for an entire Singspiel was on a different scale. The work must have taken a substantial amount of time, at a point when he was probably in declining health. In sending the sheet music off to Copenhagen, he indicated that he was proud of his work, and held certain expectations towards its success. On this background it is interesting to consider the partial, concertante stagings

newgenrtpdf

216  Annabella Skagen

Figure 11.1 Hans Hagerup Falbe’s (1772–​1830) manuscript with the opening of the final chorus for Fredsfesten (The Peace Festival, 1810). The original lines have been crossed out and replaced with the lines from the finishing chorus from Freyas Altar. © Nasjonalbiblioteket (National Library of Norway). Reprinted with kind permission.

Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar  217 of Freyas Altar in Copenhagen in 1816. It is unknown what music was used for these performances. Theoretically, it could have come from Eberg’s manuscript. If so, that would have represented a rare occasion of cultural impulses going from province to capital. Freyas Altar at Det offentlige Theater in Trondheim While very little is known about the first production of Freyas Altar in Christiania, there is more evidence relating to the Trondheim production. The first public performance was the dress rehearsal on 31 May 1814, with three more performances given over the next consecutive days. The play was performed in Det offentlige Theater (the Public Theatre). This was a unique institution at the time, the only permanent theatre in Norway open to the general public, with resident actors receiving payment for performing. The actors were locals recruited from among the artisans of the town, presumably with little or no previous acting experience.57 In Denmark-​Norway, professional actors were generally only to be found at Det Kongelige Teater, unless they were itinerant. Outside of Copenhagen, permanent theatres were run by dramatic societies whose members were dedicated amateurs or dilettantes.58 Trondheim seems to have been singular in having both such an amateur dramatic society, Det forenede dramatiske Selskab (the United Dramatic Society) as well as a semi-​professional, public theatre. Benefits were common occurrences at Det offentlige Theater, with one of the theatre’s actors being the beneficiary. Presumably, this practice was a necessary addition to the actors’ income. In the case of Freyas Altar, the benefit, somewhat unusually, was for a musician:  Andreas Berg (1788–​1844).59 Originally a house painter, he turned to music, making it his professional career. Berg is supposed to have received his musical tutoring from Peter Eberg, as one of his assistants in the theatre orchestra. As Eberg appears to have been in failing health around this time, it is likely that Berg headed the orchestra as it performed Eberg’s music to Freyas Altar.60 Eberg died the following year, and the office of town musician was passed on to the then 27-​year-​old Berg, who also took over the lead of the theatre orchestras (Figure 11.2).61 ‘A few comical persons and some that are in love’: Situated reception and social mobility While collaboration between amateurs and professional musicians is well established, the general impression has been that dilettante and semi-​professional actors did not act together. It has been assumed that social barriers prohibited this within the field of theatrical activity. However, a rare piece of evidence about the production of Freyas Altar seems to complicate this picture. One child performer in Freyas Altar in his later years wrote down his memories from Trondheim’s early theatrical life. Later a district judge, Mons Lie (1803–​1881) must have been around 11 years of age when he took part in the

218  Annabella Skagen

Figure 11.2 Andreas Berg (1788–​1844). © Trondheim byarkiv (The Municipal Archives of Trondheim). Reprinted with kind permission.

production of Freyas Altar as one of the schoolmaster’s pupils.62 Mons was the grandson of one of Det offentlige Theater’s managing directors, chief constable Mons Lie (1757–​1827). As such, he belonged to the upper levels of Trondheim’s bourgeois society.63 With the exception of Freyas Altar, most of the fragments in his small memoir seem related to performances taking place within the amateur dramatic society, associated with his social class. In his description of the production of Freyas Altar, probably written as late as in 1879, Mons Lie recalled that the production took place at ‘Lunds teater’ (Det offentlige Theater). Among the actors were one saddlemaker Minne, Ericha Smidt, née Rotvold, and her husband Jonas Smidt. No other actors are known. I have not been able to establish the identity of ‘saddlemaker Minne’. His profession might suggest he was one of the artisan actors of Det offentlige Theater. The case of Ericha Rotvold Smidt (1788–​1867) is unusual. The daughter of a coachman and starting out life as a housemaid, at 19 she was said to have been one of Det offentlige Theater’s leading actresses.64 Beautiful, vivacious, and with a fine singing voice, she married the district tax collector Jonas Smidt (1789–​1852), an enthusiastic amateur singer and performer, in 1811. Through him, she was ‘elevated’ to the socially more prominent ranks of the dilettante performers. The couple participated actively in the town’s cultural life for several years, both in the theatre and as members of Trondheim’s musical society.65 In 1819, however, Jonas Smidt was accused of embezzlement and removed from office, serving many years in prison.66

Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar  219 I would like to suggest that Ericha Smidt, a 26-​year-​old experienced actress with a good voice, acted the female lead of Clausine, while her husband, an aspiring civil servant one year her junior, might have impersonated her lover, Guilielmo. While the possibility that Ericha Smidt played the part of Beate cannot be ruled out –​she was allegedly popular for her parts as a soubrette –​ the singing part of Clausine’s role is significantly larger than that of Beate. As both Guilielmo and Clausine play musical instruments on stage (the guitar and the harp, respectively), this supports the assumption that the Smidts would have been ideal for the musical lead couple. In my doctoral thesis, I argued that the social identification of an actor with the role, especially in amateur performance, should be considered as part of a situated reception, where the dramatic action and the social identity of the performer were understood on the basis of each other.67 It is difficult to assess how Ericha Smidt’s social mobility on-​and offstage was perceived. The fact that she performed as part of the dilettante establishment after her marriage would suggest that she was socially accepted, at least up to a point.68 The hint of unconventionality –​or even frivolity –​associated with the two lead actors at the time of the performance might have reflected on the perceived frivolity of the play itself. If so, this is just as likely to have contributed to its success, rather than preventing attendance. The mix of social backgrounds among the performers makes Freyas Altar the only documented instance where dilettantes acted on stage together with artisan semi-​professionals –​with Ericha Smidt’s case further blurring the picture of clear-​cut social distinctions. It is possible that this production represents an isolated case. The initiator Andreas Berg, who started out as a painter, was to some degree himself an example of social mobility, and already had experience with artistic collaboration across social barriers. While the musical cooperation of dilettantes and professionals was a well-​established custom, this incidence in the theatre makes it necessary to review the social interconnections and barriers surrounding theatre productions in a new light. Politics at play: Rejects in provincial performance May 1814 is a period of particular significance in Norwegian history as this was the month when Norway, subordinate to Danish rule for more than 400  years, rose to the occasion after Napoleon’s defeat at Leipzig and demanded national independence. In my previous research, I  support the view that it is possible to point to a connection between the local theatrical societies and the direct political action taken by Norwegian civil servants and merchants at this time.69 During the war, the Norwegian population suffered many hardships, and loyalty to the Danish crown had been wearing thin in some social milieus. The local Norwegian theatres had on occasion staged plays with an implicit or pronounced political, on occasion even nationalist, content –​on the surface

220  Annabella Skagen upholding Denmark-​ Norway’s officially recognised ideology of absolutist rule and dual-​state patriotism, while simultaneously insisting on a separate Norwegian identity and flirting with other, Enlightenment-​inspired, political solutions. One of these occurrences concerns the already mentioned prologue Fredsfesten by Hans Iver Horn, which was performed both in Christiania and Trondheim in 1810. Fredsfesten is an occasional drama, rejoicing in the brotherly relations of Norway and Sweden following the end of a short war which had ended the previous year. It is no surprise that the play was not performed at Det Kongelige Teater in Copenhagen. Another instance of a play not performed at Det Kongelige Teater, although exceptionally popular and performed all over Europe, as well as by local dramatic societies in Christiania, Trondheim and Bergen, is August von Kotzebue’s Das Kind der Liebe (1790).70 Theatre historian Svein Gladsø discusses this interesting omission in Det Kongelige Teater’s repertory.71 Das Kind der Liebe was critiqued both for its radical political ideas and for its lack of sound poetic justice –​that is, on moral grounds. A similar example can be found in the Trauerspiel (tragedy) Julius von Sassen (1796) by the German/​Swiss reformist writer Heinrich Zschokke (1771–​1848), which was performed in Trondheim in 1810, but not at Det Kongelige Teater.72 Where Das Kind der Liebe had a happy ending, the fallen heroine having her honour restored by the nobleman who slighted her 20 years earlier, Julius von Sassen demonstrated an even more uncompromising political tendency, with the tragic heroine shockingly committing suicide by her deceitful aristocratic lover’s gun. Gladsø has argued that within the context of dilettante performance, Das Kind der Liebe had a different reception than what might have been the case at the capital’s royally sanctioned theatre. What the authorities would see as immoral and a potential threat to society might be perceived as intriguing and relevant amongst freestanding citizens engaged in the process of forming a new bourgeois identity rooted in Enlightenment ideas. In other words, the understanding of what could be considered acceptable political and moral values seems to have been contextual, with the bourgeois-​run dramatic societies appearing to have taken a more liberal stance than the officially appointed censors of Det Kongelige Teater.

Conclusion The fact that as many as four performances of Freyas Altar were given at Det offentlige Theater indicates that the Singspiel was indeed a success in its Trondheim production. The play’s musical elements probably also affected its reception. The personal notes of William Allingham and Else Wensell demonstrate both the private circulation of plays and the appeal of Freyas Altar to the younger generation. Added to this was the attraction of new, locally written stage music which the composer apparently took great pride in, and which might have contributed to the production’s success.

Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar  221 The existing fragments of evidence surrounding this production lend new insight into certain aspects of provincial production that are generally little researched. The production appears to have included participants, especially performers, of varied social backgrounds. While Ericha Smidt started out as a housemaid, her husband belonged to the established set of town officials. The young Mons Lie belonged to the same social group, generally associated with the exclusive set of Det forenede dramatiske Selskab (the United Dramatic Society), but in this case appearing at a public benefit for a working musician. Saddlemaker Minne would appear to have been at home with the artisan actors generally associated with Det offentlige Theater. Before reading Freyas Altar I  was curious, from its Nordic-​sounding title, if it might be possible to identify any political or ideological content making the production at this particular time an expression of national identity or ideas of political reform. However, the play satirises over Norse-​inspired myth-​ making and amateur archaeology, rather than idealises a heroic past. One would also be hard-​pressed to find any overt political demonstrations in the play, as Oehlenschläger pointed out himself when he compared it to Beaumarchais’ The Marriage of Figaro, which he claimed contained ‘a secret poison’, as opposed to the innocence of Freyas Altar.73 The play’s interest to a Norwegian audience of 1814, then, seems to have laid elsewhere. In my view, it was rather the romanticism of Freyas Altar, with its permissiveness towards frivolous young people in pursuit of their hearts’ many desires, which appealed to bourgeois audiences in a time where art, as well as politics and morals, was finding new directions. To this social group, Freyas Altar probably appeared fresh and modern, with its Shakespeare-​influenced informality and poetic dreaminess. The aura of Oehlenschläger’s fast-​risen literary star might also have contributed to the play’s attraction. In general, the repertory of the local provincial stages did not necessarily include the hailed poets or acknowledged masterpieces of its day. The overwhelming majority of the Trondheim repertory until 1834 consisted of comedies, Singspiele and bourgeois drama, generally by writers considered popular, rather than ‘eternal’. Dramatists like Lessing, Goethe, or Schiller, or, for that matter, Shakespeare, were remarkably absent from the known Trondheim repertory. The local stages, although clearly influenced by Det Kongelige Teater, and dependent on the Copenhagen printers, did not follow the capital’s repertory to the letter or make the same assessments about a play’s relevance as the royal censors. For one thing, the provincial theatres had to take practical aspects into consideration, such as the capacity of the performers –​largely amateurs, and seldom with any professional training –​as well as that of their technical equipment. But audience taste, as well as local context, had a strong influence on the perception of relevance. Even if the ‘classical’ names and works appeared only as exceptions, European literary, theatrical, and political impulses made a definite impact on the provincial stages, perhaps more independently of the repertory of Det Kongelige Teater than often assumed.

222  Annabella Skagen While the idea of ‘canon’ points towards something absolute, a golden standard fixed through time, ‘relevance’ is relative –​something to be assessed only in terms of relations. The theatre, as a cultural institution and as a set of practices, must similarly be understood as relational and contextual. Always situated in place and time, dependent on the efforts of the people who collaborate to bring it into existence, what is considered worthwhile has necessarily been subject to local, occasional, and social –​even individual –​opinion. While ‘canonical’ standards might be considered detached from a specific context, the relevance of a play for staging was always subjected to questions of who, where and when. The case of Freyas Altar is an example of how we must look at a play or theatrical event within its historical framing and local context to assess its relevance –​in terms of artistic expression and reception in the past, or as an object for study in the present. Firmly placed outside the literary and theatrical canon for more than 200 years, Freyas Altar has generally been viewed as an incidental slip in the hailed Oehlenschläger’s powers of judgement. However, in those early summer evenings on the 63° Northern latitude in 1814, with daylight lingering on throughout the night, the amorous characters traipsing about Freya’s shrine might have lent a sense of familiarity and longing. After seven years of war and hardship, in the midst of political turmoil, Freyas Altar’s sense of unconcerned amusement  –​of song, music and dance, folly, and frivolity –​ Overgivenhed –​might have held precisely that attraction which Oehlenschläger had intended.

Notes 1 During the first half of the nineteenth century, the theatre was referred to with various designations. For the sake of simplicity, I am using its modern name. 2 For a general overview of Danish theatre in this period, see Risum, ‘Den store teatergalskab’, 189–​230. 3 Although Denmark-​Norway after 1799 witnessed an increase in governmental censorship of printed publications, the term ‘censor’ here refers to the theatre’s officially appointed artistic directors, exercising the right to accept or reject plays for performance. 4 The play’s Danish title is given with a few variations. I am using the earliest version, Freyas Altar, which only deviates from its English translation by an apostrophe. All translations in this chapter into English are the author’s. 5 For an overview of the history of Freyas Altar, see Jørgensen,‘En Komedies Tragedie’, 99–​120. 6 Since 1931, ‘Trondheim’ has been the official spelling of the city’s name. 7 The event took place in Lund Cathedral, Sweden, in 1829. 8 Paludan et al., Breve 1798–​1809, 73–​74, no. 125. 9 Ibid., 82–​83, no. 130. 10 Oehlenschläger, Freyas Altar. 11 Dagen, 22 July 1805, 112. Quoted in Jørgensen, ‘En Komedies Tragedie’, 102–​3.

Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar  223 12 Oehlenschläger, Til Publikum, 14; Overskou, Den danske Skueplads, 396; Dansk forfatterleksikon, s.v. ‘Frejas Alter’, accessed 6 June 2020, danskforfatterleksikon.dk/​ 1850t/​tnr841.htm. 13 Preisz and Nielsen, Breve 1809–​1829, 175, no. 505. The new version of the play was published the same year at Oehlenschläger’s own expense. Oehlenschläger, Freias Alter. 14 Preisz and Nielsen, Breve 1809–​1829, 184–​5, no. 510. 15 Rahbek, Svar paa Hr. Professor Oehlenschläger, 7, 17, 26. 16 Jørgensen, ‘En Komedies Tragedie, 111–​13. 17 ‘Receiving the basket’ is a traditional expression for rejection after a proposal of marriage. 18 ‘du Landstryger! Du Døgenicht. Du –​ du –​ du –​ du –​ du –​ Kunstner!’ Oehlenschläger, Freyas Altar, 122. 19 Ibid., 139–​40. 20 Oehlenschläger, Til Publikum, 11. 21 Dvergsdal, ‘Oehlenschläger og Shakespeare’. Himself a translator of Shakespeare, Oehlenschläger also aided in the publication of the first major translations of Shakespeare into Danish by Peter Thun Foersom in the years 1807–​1818. Smidt, ‘The Discovery of Shakespeare’, 96. 22 A convention introduced by Johannes Ewald’s Fiskerne (The Fishermen) in 1779. Other examples are Thomas Thaarup’s Høstgildet (The Harvest Feast, 1790)  and Hans Iver Horn’s Kapertoget (The Capturing Raid, 1808). 23 ‘Endeel af hvad der endnu staaer, er blot bestemt for at reciteres uden Sang’. Paludan et al., Breve 1798–​1809, 73, no. 125. 24 ‘Favner hende’/​‘kysser hende’/​‘tørrer Munden’. Oehlenschläger, Freyas Altar,  9–​10. 25 A typical example of this theme can be found in the extremely popular dramatist August von Kotzebue’ s play The Epigram (Das Epigram, 1801). 26 ‘nogle comiske Personer og et Par Forelskede løber hele Stykket igiennem, med tilsyneladende Uvilkaarlighed, omkring en gammel Steen i en Skov’. Oehlenschläger, ‘Fortale’ [Poetiske Skrifter], XVI. 27 Ibid. 28 Oehlenschläger, ‘Fortale’ [Freias Alter]. 29 ‘sund Smag’. Ibid. 30 Oehlenschläger, Til Publikum. 31 ‘man maa have Hiertet i Buxerne naar man nu vil være Damerne tilpas’. Oehlenschläger, Freyas Altar, 14. 32 Ibid., 85. Although this expression primarily describes a state of fearfulness, one might also infer a double entendre. Rahbek pointed out that in the Lustspiel, Bilbo’s wordplays were frequently walking a very fine line. Rahbek, Svar paa Hr. Professor Oehlenschläger, 27. 33 Jørgensen, ‘En Komedies Tragedie’, 102. 34 Rahbek, Svar paa Hr. Professor Oehlenschläger, 27. 35 Oehlenschläger, Til Publikum, 6. 36 ‘udsøgte’. Ibid., 12–​13. 37 Ibid.,  20–​21. 38 Ibid.,  12–​13. 39 Rahbek, Svar paa Hr. Professor Oehlenschläger,  4–​5. 40 Christiania was the name of the medieval town Oslo from 1624 on. In 1925, Oslo again became the official name of the Norwegian capital.

224  Annabella Skagen 41 I am grateful to Eva Hov for making me aware of the William Allingham and Else Wensell archive materials. 42 Allingham, ‘Tronhiem i Norge’, 62, NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket . 43 Wensell, ‘Vise-​Bog 1812’, Statsarkivet i Trondheim. 44 Ibid., 62–6​5; Oehlenschläger, Freyas Altar, 81. 45 ‘She plays? Sings? Composes poetry? Incomparable!’ (‘Hun spiller? Digter? Synger? Uforligneligt!’). Ibid. 46 Trondhiems borgerlige Skoles allene privilegerede Adressecontoirs-​Efterretninger 42, 27 May 1814; 43, 31 May 1814. 47 ‘Efter fleres Ønske’. Ibid. 44, 3 June 1814. 48 Rudler, ‘Det dramatiske Selskab’, 248. 49 Pavels, Dagbogs-​Optegnelser, 598, 6 November. 50 Rugstad, ‘Hans Hagerup Falbe’, 65. 51 Falbe, [Fredsfesten], Nasjonalbiblioteket. 52 For a more detailed analysis of the musical aspects of the play, see Selvik, ‘Forgotten music’, 227–50. 53 Hornemann, [Udkast], 21:2, Statsarkivet i Trondheim. Hornemann’s manuscript for a ‘Theater and Music History of Trondhjem’ is written on folio pages with each page number referring to four actual sheets of paper. I  refer to folio and page, respectively, like this: 1:1, 1:2, 1:3. Hornemann states that Eberg had written ‘complete Music’ (‘fuldstændig Musik’) for the Trondhjem production of the play. Ibid., 35:1. 54 Ibid., 26:4. 55 According to Hornemann, Eberg’s sheet music for Freyas Altar was taken to Copenhagen by the future head of the first Norwegian bank, Jacob Frederik Oxholm (1781–​1832), an active participant in Det forenede dramatiske Selskab. Ibid., 21:2. 56 See also Selvik, ‘Forgotten music’, 235–7; Hov, ‘Outside canon’, 110. 57 For the theatre’s opening performance in 1803, the directors wrote an apology for the actors in the local newspaper, declaring them to be beginners, from whom one ought not to expect perfection. Trondhiems borgerlige Skoles allene privilegerede Adressecontoirs Efterretninger 99, 13 December 1803. 58 A notable exception is found in Odense in Denmark, where a public, provincial theatre with Danish-​born professional actors opened in 1796. Scavenius, Magiens Huse, 360. 59 Not to be confused with Andreas Berg (1686–​1764), town musician of Copenhagen. 60 According to Hornemann, a prolonged sickness, due to a cold caught in the theatre, eventually led to his demise. Hornemann, [Udkast], 36:4, Statsarkivet i Trondheim. 61 Ibid., 26:4; Jensson, Teaterliv i Trondhjem, 105. 62 Lie’s reminiscences have been printed in two, slightly differing, versions:  ‘Et lite kapitel av teaterhistorie av Jonas Lies far’ (‘A short chapter of theatre history from the father of Jonas Lie’) in Adresseavisen, 11 January 1933, and with the heading ‘Optegnelser efter nogenlunde sikker Erindring om Trondhjems Theater i Begyndelsen af det nittende Aarhundrede’ (‘Notes according to reasonably accurate memory, concerning Trondhjem’s Theatre in the early nineteenth century’), dated 1879, in Øisang, Teater i Trondheim, 61. 63 Mons Lie the younger was to become the father of the famous Norwegian author Jonas Lie (1833–​1908). 64 Jensson, Teaterliv i Trondhjem, 61.

Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar  225 65 Hornemann, [Udkast], 37:1, 45:3, 46:5, 47:6, 48:4, Statsarkivet i Trondheim. 66 Jensson, Teaterliv i Trondhjem, 66. 67 Skagen, ‘Fra grevens gård’, 164–​5. 68 That point in all likelihood was reached at her husband’s conviction. In Norwegian, the legal term for embezzlement is ‘financial unfaithfulness’ (økonomisk utroskap). It might be seen as history’s irony that while the play was critiqued for its lack of morality, the actor performing the part of the libertine Guilielmo in the end would have to answer for his own unfaithfulness. 69 Skagen, ‘Fra grevens gård’; Andersen, ‘Teatret og riksforsamlingen’. 70 The play is better known to an English-​reading audience under the title of its reworking by Elizabeth Inchbald as Lovers’Vows, immortalised in Jane Austen’s novel Mansfield Park (1814). 71 Gladsø, ‘Das Kind der Liebe’. 72 However, it seems to have been performed at the theatre in Odense in 1810–​ 1813. Dansk forfatterleksikon, s.v. ‘Julius von Sassen’, accessed 6 June 2020, danskforfatterleksikon.dk/​1850t/​pnr10441.htm. 73 ‘en hemmelig Gift’. Oehlenschläger, Til Publikum, 13.

Bibliography Andersen, Anette Storli. ‘Teatret og riksforsamlingen i 1814: De handlende personers kunst’. In Politisk kompetanse:  Grunnlovas borgar 1814–​2014, edited by Nils Rune Langeland, 280–​303. Oslo: Pax Forlag, 2014. Dvergsdal, Alvhild. ‘Oehlenschläger og Shakespeare’. In Oehlenschlägers tragediekunst, 316–​20. Copenhagen (København): Museum Tusculanum,  1997. Gladsø, Svein. ‘Das Kind der Liebe: En fabel for opprørske piker eller angrende menn?’ In Lidenskap eller levebrød, edited by Randi M. Selvik, Ellen Karoline Gjervan, and Svein Gladsø, 257–​86. Bergen: Fagbokforlaget, 2015. Hov, Eva. ‘Outside canon:  Anonymous music and informal cultural activities in Trondheim around 1800’. In Relevance and Marginalisation in Scandinavian and European Performing Arts 1770–​1860: Questioning Canons, edited by Randi Margrete Selvik, Svein Gladsø, and Annabella Skagen, 102–27. London: Routledge, 2021. Jensson, Liv. Teaterliv i Trondhjem 1800–​1835: De dramatiske selskapers tid. Oslo: Gyldendal, 1965. Jørgensen, Aage. ‘En Komedies Tragedie:  Omkring Freias Alter’. In Guldalderstudier: Festskrift til Gustav Albeck den 5.  juni 1966, edited by Gustav Albeck, Henning Høirup, and Aage Jørgensen, 99–​120. Aarhus: Universitetsforlaget i Aarhus, 1966. Oehlenschläger, Adam Gottlob. ‘Fortale’. In Freias Alter:  Lystspil. Copenhagen (Kiøbenhavn): Printed by the author, 1816. –––​. ‘Fortale’. In Poetiske Skrifter, vol. 1, XIII–​ XXIV. Copenhagen (Kiøbenhavn): J. H. Schubote, 1805. –––​. Freias Alter: Lystspil. Copenhagen (Kiøbenhavn): Printed by the author, 1816. –––​. Freyas Altar. In Poetiske Skrifter, vol. 1, 1–​ 140. Copenhagen (Kiøbenhavn): J. H. Schubote, 1805. –––​. Til Publikum:  I Anledning af Lystspillet Freias Alter, forkastet af Theatercensorerne. Copenhagen (Kiøbenhavn): Christensen, 1816. Overskou, Thomas. Den danske Skueplads i dens Historie:  Fra de første Spor af danske Skuespil indtil vor Tid, vol. 4. Copenhagen (Kjøbenhavn): Samfundet til den danske Literaturs Fremme, 1862.

226  Annabella Skagen Paludan, Hans Aage, Daniel Preisz, Morten Borup, Louis Bobé, and Carl S. Petersen, eds. Breve fra og til Adam Oehlenschläger: Januar 1798–​November 1809, vol. 1. Copenhagen (København): Gyldendal, 1945. Pavels, Claus. Dagbogs-​Optegnelser 1815–​1816, vol. 2. Oslo (Christiania): J. W. Cappelen, 1867. Preisz, Daniel, and Torben Nielsen, eds. Breve fra og til Adam Oehlenschläger:  November 1809–​Oktober 1829, vol. 1. Copenhagen (København): Gyldendal, 1953. Rahbek, Knud Lyne. Svar paa Hr. Professor Oehlenschlägers til Publikum:  i Anledning af Lystspillet Frejas Alter forkastet af Theatercensorerne. Copenhagen (Kiøbenhavn): Thiele, 1816. Risum, Janne. ‘Den store teatergalskab’. In Dansk teaterhistorie. Vol. 1, Kirkens og kongens teater, edited by Kela Kvam, Janne Risum, and Jytte Wiingaard, 177–​248. Copenhagen (København): Gyldendal, 1992. Rudler, Roderick. ‘Det dramatiske Selskab i Christiania 1799–​1839’. Master’s thesis, University of Oslo, 1957. Rugstad, Gunnar. ‘Hans Hagerup Falbe’. Norsk musikkgranskning. Årbok 1956–​1958 (1959): 12–​77. Scavenius, Alette. Magiens Huse: Danske teatre gennem 300 år. Copenhagen (København): Strandberg Publishing, 2013. Selvik, Randi Margrete. ‘Forgotten Music:  Early Norwegian composers and Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar’. In Relevance and Marginalisation in Scandinavian and European Performing Arts 1770–​1860: Questioning Canons, edited by Randi Margrete Selvik, Svein Gladsø, and Annabella Skagen, 227–50. London: Routledge, 2021. Skagen, Annabella. ‘Fra grevens gård til Prinsens gate: Teater i Trondhjem 1790–​1814’. PhD diss., Norwegian University of Science and Technology, 2015. Smidt, Kristian. ‘The Discovery of Shakespeare in Scandinavia’. In European Shakespeares: Translating Shakespeare in the Romantic Age, edited by Dirk Delabastita and Lieven D’hulst, 91–​103. Antwerp: John Benjamin, 1993. Øisang, Ole. Teater i Trondheim gjennom 125 år. Trondheim: F. Bruns bokhandel, 1941.

Archival sources Nasjonalbiblioteket (National Library of Norway) Falbe, Hans Hagerup. [Fredsfesten]. Mus.ms. 658.

NTNU Universitetsbiblioteket (NTNU University Library) Allingham, William. ‘Tronhiem i Norge’. Manuscript. 1807. XA Qv. 1023. Gunnerus Library.

Statsarkivet i Trondheim (The Regional State Archives in Trondheim) Hornemann, Johan Lebrecht. [Udkast til en Trondhjems Theater-​og Musikhistorie]. Manuscript. SAT/​PA-​0175. Wensell, Else. ‘Vise-​Bog 1812’. Handwritten songbook. SAT/​PL-​0454 Wensell.

12  Forgotten music Early Norwegian composers and Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar Randi Margrete Selvik

Introduction In 1804 the Danish poet Adam Gottlob Oehlenschläger (1779–​1850) submitted a Singspiel1 titled Freyas Altar (Freya’s Altar) to Det Kongelige Teater (the Royal Theatre) in Copenhagen.2 He was asked to revise the piece, which was eventually rejected. The reasons for the rejection were short and specific: (1) the play was too long for a theatre production, (2) it lacked characters of an interesting nature, (3) it went against good taste, and (4) its witticisms were uniform and tedious. Since it was not staged at the theatre, no music was composed for it either. Nevertheless, the play was published the following year in the first volume of Oehlenschläger’s Poetiske Skrifter (Poetic Writings). Although it was not accepted by Det Kongelige Teater, fragments of the play were performed twice between 1814 and 1816. A new and thorough revision, making the three-​ act Singspiel into a five-​act comedy (Lustspiel),3 was once more rejected by the directors in 1816, with Oehlenschläger’s own brother-​in-​law, the influential literary critic Knud Lyne Rahbek (1760–​1830) being one of the theatre’s censors. This resulted in a public controversy, in which Rahbek stated that the revision had made the play even less attractive than before. At this time Oehlenschläger had long been established as a leading Danish romantic poet and playwright, so the refusal was rather surprising.4 Freyas Altar has been regarded as the poet’s failure, but notwithstanding its continued rejection by Det Kongelige Teater, it was performed at Danish provincial theatres and dramatic societies over the following years.5 However, no music for early performances in lesser Danish theatres and dilettante societies has been found. More interesting from a Norwegian perspective is that this rejected Singspiel was performed in Trondheim and Christiania (Oslo) during the first decades of the nineteenth century, in both cities with music by local composers. This chapter deals with the music to these early Norwegian performances and their composers: town musician in Trondheim, Peter Eberg (ca. 1766–​1815), and dilettante composer in Christiania, Hans Hagerup Falbe (1772–​1830). In addition, the dilettante composer Lars Møller Ibsen (1786–​1846) in Christiania published one short musical number to a text from Freyas Altar. The musical

228  Randi Margrete Selvik sources are very few, but the special reception history and Freyas Altar being probably the first full-​length Singspiel with music by composers in Norway make it a case worthy of investigation. In their lifetime, the three composers were highly appreciated, but they have been marginalised in Norwegian music historiography. Until 1814 Norway was part of the twin monarchy Denmark-​Norway, with the capital in Copenhagen. At this time Norway, with one exception (see below), had no professional theatres, but dilettante dramatic societies in some of the major cities along the coast as far north as Trondheim gave semi-​public theatrical performances for their bourgeois members. Around 1800 the Singspiel genre was relatively new in the country. It suited the dilettante performers well, both ideologically and with regard to musical and technical requirements. The repertory was almost exclusively imported from abroad, and came with very few exceptions from Det Kongelige Teater. At this time Singspiele and opéras-​ comiques were extremely popular both in the capital and among bourgeois theatres and audiences all over Europe. After outlining the early Norwegian performances, I  will look into the libretto of the original 1805 Singspiel with regard to the types of music implied by the text, and I will analyse the few musical sources. I also want to describe the composers’ musical careers and output in more detail to give a broader context to the social and musical milieus where they lived and worked, and where the performances took place. In later assessments of the three composers, the professional Eberg has been ranked lower than the dilettantes Falbe and Ibsen. I will discuss possible reasons for this seemingly paradoxical fact. To conclude, I will examine the composers’ marginalised position in Norwegian music history by using the theory of musical canon as a mirror through which their musical production is seen. This theory has been decisive for music history, which is traditionally based on records of canonised composers and great works.

Freyas Altar in Trondheim and Christiania In Trondheim –​a town with approximately 9,000 inhabitants6 –​ Freyas Altar was performed four times in May and early June 1814 with music by the town musician Eberg, apparently with great success. The last performance was even given ‘by popular demand’ (‘Efter fleres Ønske’),7 and as a benefit for the then leader of the theatre orchestra,Andreas Berg, who was the deputy town musician and was given the position of town musician the following year after Eberg’s death. Usually benefits were given to actors, but, being a Singspiel, Freyas Altar may have been the reason for Berg’s receiving the income. The performances took place not in the dilettante theatre Det forenede dramatiske Selskab (the United Dramatic Society), as would be expected, in which case it would hardly have been advertised, but in Det Offentlige Theater (the Public Theatre), ‘the only permanent theatre in Norway open to the general public, with resident actors who received payment for performing’.8 This unique theatre with its

Forgotten music and their composers  229 semi-​professional actors had opened in 1803. By 1814 Oehlenschläger’s play had already circulated in the town for several years and was probably known by various members of the theatre-​going public, which may have contributed to its success.9 These performances in Trondheim may have been the first in Norway. However, several indications point to one or more performances in Christiania sometime between 1809 and 1816. The exact timing is impossible to ascertain. A short entry in the diary of the well-​known Norwegian diarist Claus Pavels from 6 November 1816 mentions a performance of the play in Christiania dramatic society and one of the characters.10 Besides, reference to music by Falbe has been found in a manuscript score of a prologue for the king’s birthday in 1818. The prologue lacked an overture, but the score had a note saying that the overture to Freyas Altar was to be used.11 Although this does not prove that the mentioned overture was written by Falbe, it is highly likely, and also that Freyas Altar had been performed earlier with his music. Furthermore, in an excerpt from Fredsfesten (The Peace Festival), a Singspiel with music by Falbe in the National Library of Norway, Annabella Skagen has found that the original lines have been crossed out in the score and been replaced by the lines from the final chorus of Freyas Altar.12 A few adjustments have been made to fit the new text to the existing music –​a practical reuse of material that was quite normal at the time. The diary entry from 1816, the remark in the score of the 1818 prologue, and the chorus lines in Fredsfesten are all strong indications that Freyas Altar was performed in Christiania between 1809 (the year of Falbes’s arrival in Christiania) and November 1816, and that he composed music for the play. This must have been the original Singspiel because the revised spoken Lustspiel does not contain any rhymed concluding text. These early productions of Freyas Altar in Trondheim and Christiania have not been known in Norwegian theatre and music history. Norges musikkhistorie (Norway’s music history) does not mention the Trondheim performances at all and informs that in Christiania, Det musicalske Lyceum (The Musical Lyceum, see more about this below) presented for the first time, in 1825, a Norwegian Singspiel with music by Falbe. However, this was not Freyas Altar, but Geheime-​Overfinantzraaden (The Privy Councillor).13 The early Christiania performances are not mentioned in Øyvind Anker’s two registers of theatrical performances in the city either.14 According to Anker, the first productions of Freyas Altar, as a Lustspiel, were in Det dramatiske Selskab (the Dramatic Society) in Christiania on 30 January and 8 February 1825, and later on 18 April 1832, but all cast lists show that these productions were of the original Singspiel, not the Lustspiel, where the name of the female protagonist had been changed from Clausine to Klothilde.15 The cast lists have the original name. There is no information about what music was used. It could have been by Falbe, or by Ibsen, but music by the latter is not likely (see below). There is no information about the music when Freyas Altar was performed at the public Christiania Theater on 4 and 13 May 1829 either.16

230  Randi Margrete Selvik

The Singspiel of 1805: Possible musical numbers A Singspiel would normally demand a considerable amount of music. Although there is great variety in the international repertory and no fixed standards, certain elements seem to be fairly common, such as an overture for the theatre orchestra, a certain number of solo songs, a few minor vocal ensembles like duets or trios, and some kind of a collective finale, often with a chorus, and occasionally with dance. Sometimes several dances would be included. How much and what kind of music does Freyas Altar invite? Apart from the overture, the premises for the music are to be found in the libretto, which is partly in prose and partly in verse. Usually in contemporary Singspiele or opéras-​ comiques, the libretto indicates clearly what is supposed to be sung, with prose for spoken lines and rhymed verse for songs.This was probably not the case with Freyas Altar, as Skagen has shown.17 In several instances, action is communicated in rhymed lines from one character to another in a kind of sequence of responsorial dialogue. Many of these have stage directions that make them part of the dramatic action, and they are thus unlikely to have been sung. Sometimes an ordinary song leads almost imperceptibly into such a rhymed dialogue. This is a fairly unusual practice in an opéra-​comique or a Singspiel, where all rhymed lines were usually sung. Sometimes stage directions or the characters themselves indicate a text to be sung, but quite often the characters just burst into rhymed poetry. Since the male protagonist is an alleged musician, references to playing and singing are natural, but the play probably had far more musical numbers than those connected to musical situations. In one case a rhymed text is explicitly not to be sung. This is when the main comic character, Bilbo, finds the heroine Clausine’s letter of refusal, which is to be read aloud. The play is quite long –​in fact one of the longest in the repertory –​and the amount of rhymed text is substantial. Most likely, a considerable part of this rhymed text was sung for the most part as solo songs with one or more stanzas, approximately 20 in all, which fits well with the prevalent Singspiel aesthetics and its emphasis on simple songs and melodies in a sentimental and galant style. In a few cases it is difficult to decide whether a rhymed dialogue was meant to be spoken or sung.18 One such case is the introduction to the final scene, which the composer Ibsen in Christiania interpreted as meant to be sung (more about this is given on page 233). In the scene where the hero Guilielmo is serenading Clausine, believing she is her maid Beate, each stanza is clearly to be sung, also as indicated in the stage directions. A comparison with the revised 1816 version of the play shows that all rhymed dialogue was removed in the Lustspiel, in which the cases of rhymed verse are always ‘real songs’ indicated in the text.19 The Singspiel has only a few duets and one trio. Whether these were composed as real ensembles with several more or less independent vocal parts or were to be sung in unison is impossible to know. According to the cast list, there are two choruses: a children’s chorus (twice) and a concluding, presumably four-​part, chorus. The second act is the one with the most songs, and

Forgotten music and their composers  231 singing is more frequent throughout and becomes most varied towards the end of each act, with a real finale at the very end of the play. The protagonists Guilielmo and Clausine (the young couple) are the ones with the most songs –​six and five, respectively. The other characters have only two (the gardener and Bilbo) or one (Clausine’s father [the colonel], Beate, the schoolmaster, and the farmer Jakob). There is an interesting musical parallel in the play between Guilielmo and Clausine. He –​the so-​called musician –​plays the guitar, and she plays the harp, and both accompany their own singing. These instruments complement each other, and although they are different, both belong to the string family, and both are plucked instruments. In addition, the harp traditionally had feminine connotations. The poetry in the serenading scene is quite varied, with verse lines of varying length and metre, and this implies the use of several different melodies to create musical diversity in the scene. A bagpipe (musette) is also specified in the text, played by the comical schoolmaster, and the way he is supposed to do so, alternating playing and singing because it is impossible to do both simultaneously, would have added to the comical expression of his character. The play has several references to folk song. The first is in Act II, the last scene, where the farmer Jakob, alone in the dark wood, tries to overcome his fright and sings –​quite slowly –​almost one stanza from the folk song Munken gaaer i Enge (The monk wanders in the fields). However, he is afraid and not bold enough to sing the whole song, of which the first stanza is fairly innocent, while the next might have more raunchy connotations. Munken gaaer i Enge was a well-​known song from a singing game. An obvious question is whether a traditional melody may have been used as well. Many versions have been registered in Danish folkloristic literature, and some have even been found in Norway.20 There is another reference to folk music in the very last scene, the finale, where the text implies more varied songs, and also instrumental music. When Beate and the gardener have performed their introductory songs and their duet, the stage direction says:  ‘One hears music somewhat distant. Thereafter the farmers enter, in a kind of procession, the girls with flower baskets and garlands, the unmarried men with instruments’.21 Later the complications of the plot are solved, all ends happily, the young couple is forgiven and the colonel gives his blessing. The concluding chorus is sung, followed by another stage direction: ‘The girls embellish the young couple with flowers, and afterwards there is a little dancing, while the following fragment of an old folk-​song is being sung’.22 This song is taken from the traditional singing game Offer og Ædelig (Prince Offer and the Noblemen), which portrays an old-​fashioned proposal ceremony, where a young couple is surrounded by farmers.23 There exists a traditional melody to this song as well, which Oehlenschläger and the theatre-​ going public at the beginning of the nineteenth century might perhaps have been acquainted with.24 Three short stanzas from this song, presumably sung by the chorus, are followed by other songs by Guilielmo, the young men, the girls, and all the young people together successively. After this the old people sing a

232  Randi Margrete Selvik stanza ‘to an old folk melody’ before the first chorus is repeated, and the play is ended. The last folk song, Vakker Karl og deilig Brud (Handsome man and lovely bride) also deals with the theme of a wedding, but no traditional melody has been found in Denmark for this song.25 To what extent the piece contained dance is difficult to ascertain. The only clear indication is the reference in the final scene to ‘a little dancing’, which may have been a folk dance or a folk-​like dance, since fragments of an old folk song are to be sung during the dance. However, there might have been more dancing numbers in actual performances. These were seldom indicated in the libretto of a Singspiel or opéra-​comique, and we have neither a score nor any instrumental parts of the music to provide information about possible dances. All references to folk songs and folk melodies are connected with farmers, and two of the traditional melodies were presumably known in Denmark, but whether Eberg or Falbe used these melodies in their music for the play in Norway is not known. Probably neither of them did. Interest in folk melodies did not become usual until later in the nineteenth century. However, Falbe grew up in Denmark and might have been familiar with the traditional melodies of the first two folk songs. Whether Eberg knew any of these is less likely. There is no indication in the sources that he did. Nor do they give any information about the amount of music that was composed for the productions of the Singspiel in Trondheim and Christiania.

Musical sources in Norway Hardly any of the early Norwegian music to Freyas Altar has survived, and the extant musical sources are extremely few. Eberg’s music is lost (more about this is presented below). The only source of music by Falbe is the chorus excerpt in the manuscript score from Fredsfesten (The Peace Festival). In addition, we have Ibsen’s short number, a ‘Duettino’ between Beate and the gardener. A  closer look at Falbe’s excerpt shows a four-​part mixed chorus with an orchestral accompaniment (see Figure 11.1 on page 216). The instrumentation is double flutes, clarinets, horns, and bassoons, in addition to strings, with separate parts for cello and double bass. This implies a fairly normal classicist orchestra, but without oboes. The key is D major, and the metre 6/​8. The chorus has an instrumental introduction of 13 bars, the last bar consisting of just one long final chord. Thus, the introduction consists of three four-​bar units, the second of which has a short tonal excursion to the dominant before returning to the main key, but no proper modulation. Winds and strings mostly double each other’s parts. When the voices enter, the instruments have a more supportive function, and occasionally bits of the soprano voice are doubled by the first flute an octave above. No dynamics are indicated, but towards the end the violins have more semiquavers than before, which somehow implies a kind of indirectly stronger dynamic. The soprano melody consists of four regular periodic eight-​bar phrases, and the music is entirely homophonic with very simple harmonisation. There is no modulation, only a temporary turn to the

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Forgotten music and their composers  233

Figure 12.1  First page of ‘Duettino’ from Freias Altar for soprano and tenor by Lars Møller Ibsen. © Nasjonalbiblioteket (National Library of Norway). Reprinted with kind permission.

234  Randi Margrete Selvik subdominant parallel, E minor, in just one bar. The vocal parts are quite simple, too, and the melody often moves stepwise or in leaps within the triad. Some adjustments are made in the text to make the words fit the phrasing of the music. The first seven verse lines have the same metre. To make them fit with the eight-​bar period structure, the seventh line is repeated in the second period. The stanza has another four lines, the last being very short, and these lines have to fit the next two eight-​bar phrases. In the last two eight-​bar phrases, words are both repeated and added to adjust the text to the music. The chorus probably functioned quite well as a festive ending of the Singspiel. Ibsen’s ‘Duettino’ for soprano and tenor with accompaniment by piano or guitar is a quite simple composition, too. Its optional accompaniment is characteristic of several of his published songs. The duet was obviously meant for the home market and not for a scenic production, where an orchestra would have been involved, although Norges musikkhistorie assumes that Ibsen composed music to Freyas Altar for the performances in 1825, but no sources confirm the assumption that he wrote for a scenic production.26 The text of the duet is between Beate and the gardener and introduces the very last scene of the Singspiel (the grove by Freya’s Altar). This is not included in the Lustspiel, which was performed in Christiania in 1825. The duet must have been published between 1825 and 1831. Ibsen had his own lithographic press from 1825, and by 1831, possibly already by 1830, he had concluded his music publishing business (Figure 12.1).27 The duet has three stanzas, each with four verse lines. The song is quite regular.The key is C major and the metre 6/​8.The first two four-​line stanzas are equally divided between Beate and the gardener with two lines each, while the third stanza is sung by both, mostly in parallel sixths or thirds –​in a somewhat primitive two-​part texture –​and with a whole-bar dissonance on the interval of a major second on a D7 chord emphasising the sweetness of love before the resolution to the tonic in the next bar.The two first stanzas constitute two symmetrical eight-​bar phrases. In the last stanza, the second and fourth lines of verse are extended by three additional bars, the first by a complete repetition of the second line, and the second by several repetitions of one single word. Thus, the last stanza becomes the musical culmination of the duet. In the middle of the last stanza the piano has an interlude of five bars where the guitar is silent. This has to be cut when the duet is accompanied by the guitar. There is a modulation to G major in the first stanza, and the melody of the second is varied, which gives the duet an overall ABAʹ form. The piano accompaniment has many right-​hand semiquavers following a semiquaver pause on the first and fourth beats marked by the left hand, making the rhythmic pattern of the duet fairly uniform. The voice parts also move either stepwise or within the intervals of the triad, or occasionally within the D7 chord, and the two last lines of verse have a very simple melodic profile with several syllables repeating the same notes, as if to emphasise the climax of the text, which is about the sounding of violins accompanying this happy union between the lovers.Within the limited scope of the duet, Ibsen is treating his musical material in a deft manner, and the lyrical lines fit the

Forgotten music and their composers  235 conventional tripartite formal structure in such a way that sufficient variety is created within the song. These two numbers, Falbe’s concluding chorus and Ibsen’s duet, are quite short and simple music, and they are all we have. To give a broader context to the composers, I want to describe their musical activities in more detail, starting with the one whose music to Freyas Altar is lost.

Peter Eberg: Town musician in Trondheim Even though Eberg was the one who composed the music for the Trondheim production in 1814 at a time when he most likely was in failing health, he is a rather unknown figure in Norwegian music historiography. In Norges musikkhistorie he is only briefly mentioned as cantor in Trondheim.28 However, there exist sources that make it possible to obtain an overview of his musical career. The census of 1801 informs that he was then 34  years old, with the profession of town musician, in addition to being the cantor and organist of the Hospitalskirken (the Hospital church).29 He was born in 1766, died in late December 1814, and was buried on 3 January 1815.30 Hans Lebrecht Hornemann, in a draft for a theatre and music history of Trondheim between 1880 and 1908, writes that he was born in Bergen, became an orphaned child, and since he showed talent for music he was educated in that profession.31 At the time of Eberg’s birth and childhood, Bergen was the biggest city in Norway and the second biggest in the twin monarchy, with a burgeoning bourgeois musical life.32 It is not known exactly when he arrived in Trondheim, but in July 1790 he advertised a concert to be held ‘in town musician Grundt’s house’ in the local newspaper.33 Whether he was a resident at this time cannot be ascertained, but he must have lived there before the new year 1793. Copy of a letter dated 26 February confirms that he was engaged as deputy cantor (singing master) of the Latin school since the beginning of that year, and he was later permanently appointed.34 As cantor he was in charge of the performance of vocal church music in the city cathedral and to a lesser degree also in Vår Frue kirke (the Church of Our Lady). He was officially appointed in 1794. He was also a private music teacher (cf. another advertisement in the local newspaper 15 May 1795).35 Giving private music lessons to augment their incomes was normal for town and church musicians. As usual in Europe at the time, Eberg was a versatile musician with a broad experience in instrumental and vocal music. He was expected to provide music for special occasions such as royal birthdays, religious festivities, private celebrations, etc. When two dramatic societies arose in Trondheim shortly after the turn of the century, he became in charge of the theatre music. The number of professional musicians in the city was very small, and probably he was the only one with sufficient qualifications to lead a little orchestra with a majority of amateur musicians.36 His close connection with the theatre is evident also from the fact that he gave singing lessons to the actors.37

236  Randi Margrete Selvik Sources about Eberg’s musical abilities are few, but his work as the cantor and leader of church music was appreciated. In a letter from the diocese of Trondheim in February 1801 to Danske Kanselli (the state administration in Copenhagen), the bishop gave a very favourable description of his qualifications. From 1796 there had been a singing school in the city. ‘Cantor Musicus Peter Eberg’ had taught all teachers and young people from the two free schools choral singing (‘musicalsk Choral Sang’), and also teachers from the countryside. These church singers –​in their turn –​had become singing masters to other teachers and all schoolchildren in the area.38 Eberg was given due credit for his work: It needs a real musician to be a teacher of such a singing school, and we have had examples of cantor Eberg’s competence and diligence in the execution of church music and full-​voiced choral singing with the youth from the free school [sic] and the school teachers, to the delight of the public.39 In 1806 Eberg’s duties as a singing master were reduced as a result of a school reform. However, the Latin school appreciated his efforts and he continued, though the salary was reduced.40 Eberg was also active in Det Trondhjemske Musikalske Selskab, a dilettante musical society established in 1786, which was an integrated, but independent part of a social club for the bourgeoisie, Borgerklubben.41 In the autumn of 1802, the annals of the club told that some of its musical members, among them Eberg, played together and proposed regular concerts in the club. The first was advertised for 5 November. This lasted a little more than a year, with the last concert being held on 24 February 1804.42 Among the more prominent occasions for which Eberg provided the music was the celebration in the Trondheim cathedral of the foundation of the Norwegian University in Christiania in 1811.43 It has been believed that none of his compositions have survived, but Eva Hov has found ten melodies by Eberg from the period 1801–​1804 in a handwritten music book in The Regional State Archives in Trondheim, titled ‘Node-​Bog for Hans Jørgen Wille’ (Music Book for Hans Jørgen Wille).44 These are simple tunes that may have been written for social or educational purposes. No instrumentation is indicated. They may have been played on the violin or the flute. Four are English dances. The others are titled Andante (two), Grazioso, March, Rondo and Andanttino [sic]. All are based on combinations of symmetrical eight-​bar periods, which are often repeated. The only source that informs us that Eberg composed music for Freyas Altar is Hornemann, who gives the following description of the composer: ‘Without being an excellent musician, Eberg is supposed to have been a very diligent and energetic teacher and music director’.45 He writes about his music: He shall have composed a few things, among which should be especially mentioned music to Oehlenschlaeger’s Singspiel ‘Frejas Alter’ [sic]. Merchant and later bank director, Oxholm, arranged this music to be sent to Copenhagen on Eberg’s request, and later it all disappeared.46

Forgotten music and their composers  237 Hornemann’s source was Eberg’s daughter. Several questions arise on the basis of this information:  Why did Eberg want the music for Freyas Altar to be sent to Copenhagen? Was he encouraged to do so, and by whom? Who was the addressee? Did he regard this music as a special work? Did he hope that the Singspiel would be performed on a stage in Denmark? His previous vocal compositions had been written for special occasions and would presumably have little or no interest outside these local events, but music for a Singspiel written by one of the twin monarchy’s leading playwrights and most distinguished poets was a different matter. If he really provided Freyas Altar with the music that is implied in the libretto: solo songs, vocal ensembles, choruses, and dances, it was probably his greatest and most ambitious work. Sadly, the music must be considered lost. Recent efforts to find it have been in vain.

Hans Hagerup Falbe and Lars Møller Ibsen: Dilettante composers in Christiania Falbe’s music for Freyas Altar seems to be lost too, except for the excerpt from Fredsfesten. Falbe was born in Copenhagen in 1772 and grew up in the capital (Figure  12.2).47 His father was of German descent, and his mother was Norwegian. Both his father and his father-​in-​law were in the civil service. Falbe followed in his father’s footsteps and studied law. After completing his university

Figure 12.2 Hans Hagerup Falbe (1772–​1830). Copperplate engraving by Gilles-​Louis Chretien (1754–​1811). © Det Kgl. Bibliotek (The Royal Danish Library). Reprinted with kind permission.

238  Randi Margrete Selvik studies, he travelled in Germany, Italy, and France for three years –​a period of further cultural and linguistic education. His knowledge of French was held in great esteem, and he even functioned as an interpreter. In 1795 he entered the civil service and advanced to judge (høyesterettsassessor) in the Supreme Court in Copenhagen in 1802. In 1809 he applied for an office in Christiania and settled there, and later he held several high administrative positions in the town, which at the time was only slightly larger than Trondheim.48 When Norway proclaimed its independence in 1814 and Christiania became the capital, he chose to stay in the country, also after the union with Sweden was signed in November the same year, and he continued to advance in the civil service. He became a cabinet minister in the Norwegian government in Stockholm in 1822 and held various cabinet positions until his death in 1830. Falbe played a prominent role in the musical life of Christiania from his arrival until his death. He quickly became a leading figure in dilettante musical circles, which were crucial for the development of concert life in the city. In the autumn of 1810, he was one of the founding fathers of the most important dilettante concert society in the city, Det musikalske Lyceum (the Musical Lyceum); he functioned as a director and instructor of Singspiele (the Lyceum provided the music to dilettante theatre and Singspiel performances), and he directed performances of his own compositions. A professional theatre and concert life had not yet been developed in the town, and there were few positions for professional musicians. For many years to come, Christiania depended on the activity of musical amateurs. Although a dilettante, Falbe was one of the country’s most prominent composers at the time and had a fairly prolific production, at least compared to Eberg and other contemporary Norwegian composers. Although several of his works are lost, quite a few were published, and many exist in manuscript. He wrote a symphony, some other orchestral music, three string quartets, many cantatas, and a great number of popular dances. Much of his reputation as a composer rests on his dance music, and many dances have been preserved in manuscript copies or print. He composed music for at least four Singspiele. The first, Anglomanien (The Anglomania, 1808?), was written before he came to Christiania. Then followed Fredsfesten (The Peace Festival, 1810),49 Freyas Altar (1809–​ 1816?), and Geheime-​Overfinantzraaden (The Privy Councillor, 1825). Only a few songs from these have survived. Three from Geheime-​ Overfinantzraaden were published by Ibsen. For Freyas Altar, the only references to music composed by him have been found in manuscript scores of other compositions. Falbe must have had some kind of musical training. He certainly knew the rules of musical composition, but his musical education is unknown. In Copenhagen he was a member of the most renowned musical society in the city, Det kongelige musikalske Akademi (the Royal Musical Academy), together with some of the city’s most prominent composers. Some of these, for example, F. L. A. Kunzen and Claus Schall, may have been his music teachers.50 A small

Forgotten music and their composers  239 book from 1815, Et Blik paa Musikens Tilstand i Norge (A Brief Outlook on the State of Music in Norway) by Lars Roverud, gives great credit to Falbe as a composer of occasional music. Twenty-​four cantatas are known, among them one for the above-​mentioned foundation of the Norwegian University in 1811, and several for celebrations of the King’s birthday. A more thorough description of Falbe’s musical style will be given below. The other dilettante composer, Ibsen, also had a close connection with the theatre.51 He was born in Copenhagen in 1786, the son of an actor at Det Kongelige Teater (the Royal Theatre), and planned to pursue the same profession. It has been believed that when he arrived in Christiania in the summer of 1810, his ambition was to apply for a position at the public theatre which the Swedish actor, dancer, and theatre director Johan Peter Strömberg had obtained royal permission to build and operate in the city. The theatre was not realised at the time, but Ibsen settled in Christiania and quickly came in touch with leading musicians, such as Falbe and another prominent musical dilettante, Paul Thrane.52 Ibsen was also among the founding fathers of the Musical Lyceum. He became an active member of both the Lyceum and the dramatic society, and he acted in Singspiele and spoken plays.53 From ca. 1821 he was the singing master (Syngemester) of the Lyceum.54 His musical qualities seem above all to have been a good singing voice, and what is preserved of his music is mostly songs and a few dances. Probably he did not have any systematic musical training. His music is quite simple and far less complex and ambitious than Falbe’s. In 1821 he established a singing school (Syngeinstitut) in Christiania. Later he became a singing master at the Latin school and at Christiania Theater. He also worked as a tradesman, ran the above-​mentioned music publishing company, and edited one of the first Norwegian music periodicals, Norske Lyra, where he printed music by himself, Falbe, and other composers. Ibsen’s long-​time experience in the theatre probably inspired the music he wrote for a dramatic work, De lystige Passagerer (The Merry Passengers) to a text originally by Louis Benoît Picard.55 The only music we know of that he composed to Freyas Altar is the above-mentioned duet for soprano and tenor. There is no evidence that he wrote for a stage production, although it has been believed that he did so.

Professionalism versus dilettantism It might be seen as something of a paradox that dilettante composers like Falbe and Ibsen seem to have been more highly regarded by posterity than the professional Eberg.This has partly to do with their musical output.The main topics in earlier Norwegian music historiography have been composers and works. None of Eberg’s compositions have been known, in contrast to many by Falbe and Ibsen. Some of their music was even published. However, the more positive evaluation of Falbe and Ibsen probably also has to do with the contemporary view on dilettantism and the role of musical dilettantes in musical life. The

240  Randi Margrete Selvik first decades of the nineteenth century being a period of stylistic change with transition from baroque ideals to a pre-​romantic aesthetics may also have been of importance for their later reputation. In the baroque, music was seen more as a craft than as an art, and versatility was an ideal. Consequently, the town musician easily fell victim to a more negative view of his musical and compositional activity than the younger composers, who represented a pre-​romantic and galant style. However, the period’s positive view on musical dilettantism was probably more important. Dilettantism is a concept that has changed during history and has been given renewed attention in recent scholarship. In contemporary performing arts, dilettantism is regarded as something negative, opposed to professionalism, but the situation was very different in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, as Marie-​Theres Federhofer has shown. By that time, dilettantism was associated with high social status and linked to the upper classes of society.56 Originally a dilettante represented a person who cultivated arts or science for pleasure. The concept dates back to the Italian Baldassare Castiglione’s Il libro del Cortegiano (The Book of the Courtier) (1528), in which intellectual, cultural, and artistic activities were seen as necessary for the courtier’s public and political role in society.57 This ideal prevailed for several centuries in the aristocracy and the upper bourgeoisie.58 On the other hand, art as a profession was regarded as uncultured and something reserved for craftsmen and artisans.This had nothing to do with artistic standard or level of perfection, which could be very high for many dilettantes. They could be quite accomplished musicians and composers, just as the opposite could also be the case, with trained professional musicians having a rather low or moderate artistic level. The crucial matter was whether music was practised as a paid profession or not.When versatility was required, as for town musicians (like Peter Eberg) in the baroque era, many of these musical craftsmen were not highly ranked, especially since their music often consisted of occasional compositions, which, by a later age, were downgraded compared to absolute, autonomous, or ‘real’ art music. The positive view of the dilettante changed with the rise of romanticism. According to Federhofer, the debate about dilettantism was especially strong at the end of the eighteenth century, when it was closely connected with a new evaluation of artistic production, and the attitude against dilettantism became increasingly negative with Goethe and Schiller as its chief theoretical opponents.59 Although dilettantism was strongly criticised and seen as a threat and an impediment to true art, dilettantism in music was recognised, accepted, and practised far into the nineteenth century. In several European countries, it was absolutely necessary for the establishment of networks such as musical and dramatic societies, from which professional institutions would later develop.60 This was the case in Norway, where the preconditions for a professional musical life around the turn of the century in 1800 and the following decades were utterly limited. The country was completely dependent on dilettante activity for years to come, not least in the field of composition. Consequently, the

Forgotten music and their composers  241 positive evaluation of especially Falbe’s music as the product of a dilettante composer belonging to the upper bourgeoisie compared with Eberg –​a badly paid town musician with low social status –​is perfectly understandable. What is more, while much of Falbe’s music is known, that of Eberg’s is completely unknown.

Marginalised composers and the idea of a musical canon Eberg, Falbe, and Ibsen have all been marginalised in Norwegian music historiography, though to varying degrees. However, this marginalisation is mainly a result of how they have been valued after the idea of a musical canon became established. According to William Weber, this originated in England, and by the end of the eighteenth century, concerts with authorised ‘old’ works defined as high-​quality ‘classics’ had become standard in many English concert organisations. By the middle of the next century, the idea of a core repertory of ‘classics’ had spread to many countries on the European continent, and this also ‘became the ultimate source of authority in musical taste’.61 A systematic hierarchy of genres developed along with the idea of a canon of classical works. Besides, until the end of the eighteenth century, vocal music had been regarded as superior to instrumental music, but with the establishment of a musical canon and the rise of romanticism, instrumental music became superior, with the string quartet (especially those of Beethoven) on top, followed in descending order by (in orchestral music) the symphony, the concerto, and the overture. A similar hierarchy developed for other genres. At the same time, it is important to remember that ‘the canon –​or in reality, a changing set of canons –​became central to musical taste for the very reason that it was able to adapt to new musical and social needs’ that were developing in bourgeois concert life.62 Canon then refers to the ideas that bind great works together as masterpieces and give them authority.63 ‘If “classics” are individual works deemed great, “canon” is the framework that supports their identification in critical and ideological terms’.64 It is exactly this idea of a canon of great works that has marginalised composers such as Eberg, Falbe, and Ibsen. In their lifetime they were highly valued because there was no such idea then as a musical canon in Norwegian musical life. However, as Mark Everist has pointed out: ‘The value attached to a given work changes with time, and accounts for the position in the margins of certain canonic discourses’.65 The evaluation of the composers has changed over time. In the first decades of the nineteenth century, a clearly defined hierarchy of genres hardly existed in Norway, though there may have been slight tendencies towards it (see below), and vocal music was generally still ranked higher than instrumental music. Dramatic genres like Singspiel and opéra-​comique were highly appreciated, likewise arias and songs from these and from operas, and also occasional music − celebratory cantatas, etc. Symphonies, on the other hand, did not have the high status they have been credited with in the classical canon.

242  Randi Margrete Selvik When Falbe composed his symphony, the role of this genre in concert programmes was usually to act as an introduction, or as a frame, with one movement played at the beginning, and maybe one at the end, while the most important music  –​often vocal numbers and various solos  –​was placed in the middle. ‘Overtures and symphonies … by tradition served as openers to concerts, pieces designed to bring the audience to attention as people settled into the hall, or as finales to long programmes which listeners often left early’.66 Another genre with a reputation different from today’s is dance music. Falbe’s dances were extremely popular in his lifetime because dance was very important in the social life of the upper bourgeoisie in Christiania. For that reason, dance music was highly valued. Falbe’s dances were seen as something of an ideal in the social context where this music was used.67 Although many local musicians wrote dance music, Falbe’s dances were better and more cleverly composed than others. The positive view of his dances in contemporary literature (Roverud) is therefore quite reasonable. Besides, at that time, dance music was not regarded as inferior to other genres of instrumental music. This changed with the establishment of the musical canon, when functional music like dance music was devalued compared with the higher ranked instrumental genres of absolute music. However, although Falbe was highly regarded in his lifetime, views on his music were not unanimously positive. After a performance of Geheime-​ Overfinantzsraaden (The Privy Councillor) in 1830, a review characterised the work in this way: The music, which like many of this popular composer’s works, is regarded as trivial by many of the fine musical Gourmands, who, like old drunkards, must have something strong that burns in the throat, because he [Falbe] does not, like a feverish erudite genius, agonise himself in and out of one key after another, but strives to please the sound and natural ear, by his simple, pleasing, effortless and often wayward melody, and beautiful, correct harmony, which we just believe is the answer to what one should expect from a farce like this, and most numbers would, if they were better executed, be listened to with great pleasure, even by the strictest critic.68 Cecilie Stensrud argues that the review gives the impression of divided opinions.69 While some of the learned connoisseurs of the time regarded Falbe’s music as too simple, the critic praised its simplicity, beauty, and pleasing naturalness.These were qualities that fulfilled the aesthetic requirements of sentimental music. Simplicity, naturalness, and sentimentality were important aesthetic ideals in the bourgeois society of the period, and they prevailed for quite a long time in Christiania, with its rather ‘underdeveloped’ musical life, though new compositional and aesthetic ideals and a more advanced musical style would not have been unknown to some of the trendsetting members of the public. The highly ranked instrumental genres of string quartet and symphony have undoubtedly been important in twentieth-​century evaluation of Falbe’s music

Forgotten music and their composers  243 and contributed to his reputation as a fairly important composer, albeit with some shortcomings. Gunnar Rugstad’s first substantial analysis of Falbe’s music in 1959 was written long after the idea of a musical canon of classical works had been established in Norwegian music historiography.70 He sides with the above-​mentioned ‘Gourmands’. Rugstad compares Falbe’s instrumental style with the great Viennese classicists and discusses whether or not he fulfils the stylistic requirements of sonata form and technique. In his opinion, Falbe falls short of classic compositional ideals. His themes are most often not built on concentrated motives suitable for development and contrapuntal or ‘pseudo-​ contrapuntal’ technique, something which is typical of many works of the classical Viennese composers. A  theme by Falbe is often songlike, succeeded by another theme and combined in chains of melodies instead of being constructed by motives to be further developed, often with a quasi-​contrapuntal technique. His music usually emphasises melody, it is homophonic and periodic –​ideals that correspond well to the galant and sentimental style which was the aesthetic ideal of the music of opéras-​comiques and Singspiele of the period, by which Falbe was deeply influenced. He knew how to please the bourgeois public with music that appealed to the sentimental ideals that prevailed in the bourgeois society where he lived and worked. Rugstad’s evaluation of Falbe’s music is based not only on its deficiencies in relation to the musical ideals of Viennese classicism. In one of the most prominent national narratives constituting the framework of Norwegian history and culture after 1814, it became important to put aside everything connecting the country to Denmark and the former union. Although the political bonds had been broken, the cultural bonds remained for a long time, as Rasmus Glenthøj has shown in Mellem brødre (Between brothers) (2014).71 The musical and theatrical culture of the new nation had to be built on the traditions of the twin monarchy. However, in Norwegian music history, the heritage of musical culture shared with Denmark was long held in low esteem. Around the middle of the nineteenth century, leading Norwegian intellectuals formulated a programme to keep a distance from the country’s Danish past and to establish a new and independent Norwegian culture based on what was perceived to be significant national characteristics, such as folk music elements. This national romantic movement was extremely influential in all cultural disciplines, not least in music, and it lasted for a very long period. In 1959 Norwegian musicologists still favoured national ideals, but specific Norwegian musical traits are practically non-​existent in Falbe’s music, whose style is ‘neutrally’ European. The view on Falbe has been modified in recent years. In Norges musikkhistorie, his compositions seem to be recognised a little more in their own right,72 and in Norges opera & balletthistorie (The History of Norwegian Opera and Ballet) (2010) his music is characterised as charming and fluent (‘lettflytende’) –​ perhaps still a somewhat condescending attitude.73 He is given credit for his orchestration, and especially for his creative use of winds, which was an influence from the popular opéras-​comiques of the period. But even in these fairly new publications, the mainly continental European Singspiel repertory, which dominated music

244  Randi Margrete Selvik drama in Norway at the time, has not been given much attention, and it has not been recognised as essential. However, there is recently a new interest among scholars in what was actually performed in Norway, including Singspiele and related genres, both during the twin monarchy and after.74 Falbe was beyond doubt an important composer in early nineteenth-​century Christiania, although he became marginalised later. Ibsen, on the other hand, belonged to a group of minor composers even when he lived, mainly because he was less versatile than Eberg and Falbe. Although many of his songs were popular in his lifetime, songs with their small format being his primary genre, and his little output, are probably the main reasons why he has been given an inferior status in a later canon perspective. In addition, his songs do not reflect any influence from folk songs either, something which has been extremely important in the later assessment of Norwegian composers. Ibsen’s songs are in a neutral, generally simple style, mostly strophic, with melodies often based on broken triads, and they are simply harmonised. According to Nils Grinde, some of his songs are inspired by the Singspiel repertory, especially when coloratura elements are added to an otherwise plain melodic line.75 Grinde seems to regard this as a negative aspect of his melodic style –​an attitude that might reflect some of the earlier condescending judgements of the Singspiel repertory in general. For a long period, this was regarded as more Danish than Norwegian and not particularly interesting.

Conclusion The three composers of music for Freyas Altar in Norway –​Eberg, Falbe, and Ibsen –​have all been marginalised in Norwegian music historiography, and so has the Singspiel genre. This has to do with the state of art music in Norway when the early performances took place, with the few musical sources of the play, the composers’ musical output, aesthetic and stylistic shifts, the view on dilettantism, and not least how the idea of a musical canon of classical masterpieces influenced the notions of twentieth-​century Norwegian music historians. Eberg is hardly regarded as a composer at all, Ibsen is seen as a minor composer, while Falbe’s reputation seems to have undergone a certain change, partly as the result of a revised understanding of the stylistic and aesthetic ideals of the Singspiel and opéra-​comique repertory, which influenced his music so deeply. However, he also composed a symphony and several string quartets. In the hierarchy of genres developed after the establishment of a musical canon, these obtained a particularly high standing and have definitely been more important for his later reputation than the music he wrote for the Singspiel repertory, not only because so little of this is known. Singspiele, cantatas, dances and the like were ranked as inferior compared to absolute, instrumental music. Still, his more ambitious instrumental music did not quite fulfil the aesthetic standards of Viennese classicism when evaluated at a later stage  –​ideals which became dominant in Norwegian music historiography combined with a national romantic ideal which Falbe did not live up to either. However, his relevance as an important composer in Norway was indisputable in the early nineteenth century.

Forgotten music and their composers  245

Notes 1 The German term Singspiel will be used throughout the chapter, being more well-​known than the Danish syngespil, which is a direct translation of the German term. 2 More details about the origin, revisions, and reception history are presented in Skagen’s chapter in this volume, ‘Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar’. 3 The German Lustspiel is also a more well-​known term than the directly translated Danish lystspil and is used throughout the chapter. 4 In 1810 he had become professor of aesthetics at Copenhagen University. On Oehlenschläger’s position in Danish literature, see Sørensen,‘Adam Oehlenschläger’. 5 It was performed twice as a so-​ called vaudeville at Det Kongelige Teater in 1828. However, the cast list in Det Kongelige Bibliotek (The Royal Library) in Copenhagen corresponds to that of the original Singspiel. The library has a score with music by J. F. Frölich (1806–​1860), choirmaster at the royal theatre 1827–​1836 and chief conductor from 1837. Wikipedia, s.v.‘Johannes Frederik Fröhlich’, accessed 17 June 2020, https://​en.wikipedia.org/​wiki/​Johannes_​Frederik_​Fröhlich. This score is probably from 1828. At least the overture was written that year, and probably the rest of the music too. The library also has a copy of S. Thyregod, Danmarks Sanglege (1931) with a handwritten note that one of the folk melodies in the book is used in a score to Freyas Altar from 1828. This must be Frölich’s score. There is no evidence that this music was used on stages in Norway. Email from Jens Henrik Koudal, 31 October 2016. 6 8,847 inhabitants in 1801, accessed 5 May 2020, www.digitalarkivet.no/​census/​ search/​1801/​58434? 7 According to the advertisement in the local newspaper. See Skagen,‘Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar’, 214. 8 Ibid., 217. 9 Skagen, ibid., 214 and Hov, ‘Beyond Canon’ in this volume, 105, 108. 10 Pavels, Dagbogs-​Optegnelser 1815–​1816, vol. 2, 598 and Skagen, ‘Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar’, 214. 11 Rugstad, ‘Hans Hagerup Falbe’, 65. 12 See Skagen, ‘Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar’, 215. 13 Vollsnes et  al., Norges musikkhistorie, vol. 2, 33. Only three songs from Geheime-​ Overfinantzraaden have been preserved. 14 Anker, Det dramatiske Selskab i Christiania:  Repertoire 1799–​1804 and Christiania Theater’s repertoire. The registers were for the dramatic society in Christiania and the public Christiania Theater. 15 Rollebesetninger, Protocol No. 2, 191 and 194, National Library of Norway. 16 According to Anker, it was the Lustspiel version, but this may also have been the original version. See Anker, Christiania Theater’s repertoire, 37. 17 She refers to Oehlenschläger’s own comments to the Royal Theatre’s manager on the first revisions he made to shorten the play, which he did by letting some pieces originally intended to be songs to be recited instead of sung. Skagen, ‘Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar’, 211. 18 As mentioned by Skagen (see note 18 in her chapter), the lines of rhymed dialogue may be the result of Oehlenschläger’s own revision of the first draft of the play. 19 The only exception is the note Bilbo is reading after having received the basket with Klothilde’s (Clausine’s) refusal. (Her name was changed in the Lustspiel version.) The remaining songs in the Lustspiel are the children’s chorus, the schoolmaster’s song

246  Randi Margrete Selvik with the bagpipe, the serenading under Klothilde’s window and her answer, and the folksong, Munken gaaer i Enge. See Oehlenschläger, Freias Alter [sic], 23–24, 93–94, 100–​103, and 111–​12. Except for the serenading scene, which has new rhymed lines, the other rhymed stanzas are identical with the ones in the 1805 version. 20 See Thyregod, Danmarks Sanglege (1931). I am grateful to Senior Researcher Jens Henrik Koudal at the Royal Libray in Copenhagen for information about this and other folk melodies referred to in the text. For Norwegian versions of the melody, see Hoksnes and Rekdal, eds., Syng som folk, 101, and Kvandal, Norske folkeviser gjennom tusen år, 108. 21 ‘Man høre Musik noget borte. Bønderfolkene komme derpaa i et Slags Optog. Pigerne med Blomsterkurve og Krandse. Ungkarlene med Instrumenter.’ Oehlenschläger, Freyas Altar, 130. All translations are by this author unless otherwise indicated. 22 ‘Pigerne omvikle det unge Par med Blomster; derpaa dandses der lidt, medens man synger følgende Fragment af en gammel Folkesang.’ Ibid., 139. 23 Ordbog over det danske sprog:  Historisk ordbog 1700–​1950 (Dictionary of the Danish Language:  Historical Dictionary 1700–​1950), s.v. ‘II. Offer’, accessed 17 June 2020, https://​ordnet.dk/​ods/​ordbog?select=Offer,2&query=offer. 24 See Thyregod, Danmarks Sanglege,  1–​7. 25 Email from Jens Henrik Koudal, 31 October 2016. 26 Vollsnes et al., Norges musikkhistorie, vol. 2, 88. 27 Michelsen, Musikkhandel i Norge. 28 Vollsnes et al., Norges musikkhistorie, vol. 2, 73. 29 Peter Eberg, Folketellingen (Census) 1801 for Trondheim kjøpstad (town), 6te Rode, Hus 27, 94 Munkegaden. 30 Petter Eberg [sic], Buried 3 January 1815, Ministerialbok for Trondheim Prestegjeld, Domkirken sokn 1783–​1818, 105. He was 49 years old, born in 1766. The cause of death was consumtion. 31 Skagen, ‘Fra grevens gård til Prinsens gate’, 11–​12. 32 The first musical dilettante society in Norway, Det harmoniske Selskab, was founded in 1765. This is currently regarded as the forerunner of today’s Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra. 33 ‘i Stadsmusikus Hr. Grundts Gaard’, Tronhjems Kongelige allene privilegerede Adresse-​ Contoirs Ugentlig Udgivende Efterretninger 27, 2 July 1790, 1–2. 34 The Regional State Archives in Trondheim. Nidaros Stiftsdireksjon, kopibok no. 1 (1791–​1797), 92–​93. Since the cantor in office was unfit to be singing master at the Latin school, ‘Musicus Peter Eberg’ had been engaged in his place from the new year, and the cathedral and Vår Frue kirke had to pay him an annual salary of 50 and 20 Riksdaler [national currency], respectively. 35 Huldt-​Nystrøm, ‘Fra musikklivet i Trondheim’, 11, and Dahlback, Rokokkomusikk i trøndersk miljø, 142. According to the advertisement in Tronhjems Kongelige allene privilegerede Adresse-​ Contoirs Ugentlig Udgivende Efterretninger 20, 15 May 1795, town musician Eberg even offered board and lodging to daughters of honourable people from the countryside, and taught them ‘ladies’ activities and music’ (‘Fruentimmernetheder og Musik’). 36 According to the 1801 census, there were only 15 professional musicians in Trondheim at that time: Eberg, two of his apprentices, three other organists, one music teacher, and eight military musicians. Huldt-​Nystrøm, ‘Fra musikklivet i Trondheim’,  6–​9.

Forgotten music and their composers  247 37 Skagen, ‘Fra grevens gård til Prinsens gate’, 237. 38 According to Øverås, Erichsen, and Due, Trondheim katedralskoles historie, 259. 39 ‘Der udfordres en egentlig Musicus til Lærer i saadan Syngeskole, og vi have havt Prøver til Publicums Fornøyelse af Cantor Ebergs Duelighed og Fliid med Friskolens Ungdom og Skolemestrene ved Kirkemusik og fuldstemmige Choralers Opførelse.’ Cited in Hernes, Impuls og tradisjon, 75. 40 Øverås et al., Trondheim katedralskoles historie, 288. 41 Sivertsen, Det Trondhjemske Musikalske Selskab, 36. 42 The other musical members suggesting concerts were the professional organists Ole Andreas Lindeman and Johan Chr. Tellefsen, as well as the dilettante Thomas Henrich Møinichen, who also composed. The concerts were agreed upon on 12 October 1802. 43 Hernes, Ole Andreas Lindeman, 113. 44 Wille was the son of rector and dean Hans Jacob Wille, who is supposed to have been the first director of Det forenede dramatiske Selskab (the United Dramatic Society), probably founded around 1803. See Hov, ‘Outside Canon’, 110; Skagen, ‘Fra grevens gård til Prinsens gate’, 196–​7; and Jensson, Teaterliv i Trondhjem, 38. 45 ‘Uden at være nogen fremragende Musiker, skal dog Eberg have været en meget arbeidsom og ihærdig Lærer og Orchesteranfører.’ Cited in Huldt-​Nystrøm, ‘Fra musikklivet i Trondheim’, 11. 46 ‘Han skal have componeret enkelte Sager, hvoriblandt specielt er omtalt Musik til Oehlenschlaegers Syngestykke “Frejas Alter”. Denne Composition besørgede Kjøbmand, senere Bankdirecteur, Oxholm nedsendt til København efter Ebergs Anmodning, og senere er det hele forsvundet.’ Cited in ibid., 13–​14. Jacob Frederik Oxholm (1781–​1832) had married a younger sister of Hans Jørgen Wille in 1809. See also Skagen, ‘Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar’, 224, and Wikipedia, s.v. ‘Jacob Frederick Oxholm’, accessed 17 June 2020, https://​no.wikipedia.org/​wiki/​Jacob_​Oxholm. 47 For further information on Falbe, see Vollsnes et  al., Norges musikkhistorie, vol. 2, 91–​96. 48 In the 1801 census, Christiania had 9,603 inhabitants, accessed 18 May 2020, www. digitalarkivet.no/​search/​persons?s=Folketellingen+1801%2C+Christiania. 49 This is not a complete Singspiel, but consists of a prologue and a few scenes. Neither Fredsfesten nor Freyas Altar are mentioned as compositions by Falbe in Norges musikkhistorie. 50 Ibid., 92. 51 For further information on Ibsen, see Grinde, Norsk musikkhistorie, 118–​20, and Vollsnes et al., Norges musikkhistorie, vol. 2, 87–​88. 52 Merchant Paul Thrane was the father of the violinist and composer Waldemar Thrane, whose Singspiel, Fjeldeventyret (The Mountain Tale, 1825), obtained a canonical status in Norwegian music historiography because of its use of folkloristic musical material. 53 He was mentioned as an actor in the previously mentioned diary entry by Claus Pavels. Pavels, Dagbogs-​Optegnelser 1815–​1816, vol. 2, 598. 54 Qvamme, Det musikalske Lyceum, 141. 55 Original French title Le collatéral ou la Diligence de Joigny (1799), a comedy in five acts in prose. The music was probably written for a performance in 1812. See Vollsnes et al., Norges musikkhistorie, vol. 2, 88. 56 See Federhofer, ‘Dilettantismens potensial’, 11. 57 Federhofer, ‘Fra hoffmannen til den informerte dilettanten’, 52.

248  Randi Margrete Selvik 58 Federhofer, ‘Dilettantismens potensial’, 14. 59 Ibid., 15. Goethe and Schiller’s planned theorical dissertation against dilettantism from 1796 onwards, Über den Dilettantismus, was never fully realised. 60 Federhofer, ‘Fra hoffmannen til den informerte dilettanten’, 54–​57. 61 Weber, The Rise of Musical Classics, 21. 62 Ibid., 22. 63 Ibid., 21. 64 Weber, ‘The History of Musical Canon’, 338. 65 Everist, ‘Reception Theories’,  396. 66 Weber, ‘The History of Musical Canon’, 348. 67 See Roverud’s praise of Falbe’s dance music in Vollsnes et al., Norges musikkhistorie, vol. 2, 94. 68 ‘Musiken, der som mange af denne populaire Componists Arbeider, ansees triviel af de fine musikalske Gourmands, der ligesom de gamle Drankere, maa ha noget der river i Halsen, fordi han ikke i feberaktig høilærd Genialitet piner sig in og ud af den ene Toneart efter den anden, men stræber at behage det sunde og naturlige Øre, ved sin simple, behagelige, fordringsløse og ofte lunefulde Melodie, og skønne, correcte Harmonie, troe vi netop at svare til hvad man bør vente af en Farce som denne, og de fleste Nummere vil, naar de vare blevne bedre udførte, kunde høres med meget Velbehag, endog af den strengeste Kunstdommer.’ Cited in Vollsnes et  al., Norges musikkhistorie, vol. 2, 93. 69 Stensrud, ‘Syngespillet i nytt lys’, 119. 70 Rugstad, ‘Hans Hagerup Falbe’, 12–​77. 71 Glenthøj, ed., Mellem brødre (Between brothers) deals with Dano–​ Norwegian relationships in politics and culture during the union and after 1814. 72 Vollsnes et al., Norges musikkhistorie, vol. 2, 91–​96. 73 Herresthal, ‘Den norske operaens vugge’, 68. 74 Stensrud’s PhD dissertation on Singspiel in Norway 1800–​ 1825 gives a more balanced view on this kind of music drama, and also on Falbe’s music. See Stensrud, ‘ “Den store Verdens Tone” ’. 75 Grinde, Norsk musikkhistorie, 120.

Bibliography Anker, Øyvind. Christiania Theater’s repertoire 1827–​ 99:  Fullstendig registrant over forestillinger, forfattere, oversettere og komponister: sesongregister (The repertoire of Christiania Theatre 1827–​99: A complete record of performances, authors, translators and composers: index to seasons). Oslo: Gyldendal Norsk Forlag, 1956. Anker, Øyvind. Det dramatiske Selskab i Christiania:  Repertoare 1799–​ 1844. Oslo: n.p., 1959. Dahlback, Karl. Rokokkomusikk i trøndersk miljø:  Johan Henrich Berlin (1741–​ 1807): (Et bidrag til Trondheims musikkhistorie 1750–​1800). Oslo: Tanum, 1956. Everist, Mark.‘Reception Theories, Canonic Discourses, and MusicalValue’. In Rethinking Music, edited by Nicholas Cook and Mark Everist, 378–​ 402. Oxford:  Oxford University Press, 1999. Federhofer, Marie-​Theres. ‘Dilettantismens potensial’. In Mellom pasjon og profesjonalisme: Dilettantkulturer i skandinavisk kunst og vitenskap, edited by Marie-​Theres Federhofer and Hanna Hodacs, 11–​29. Trondheim: Tapir Akademisk Forlag, 2011.

Forgotten music and their composers  249 Federhofer, Marie-​Theres. ‘Fra hoffmannen til den informerte dilettanten  –​Noen historiske stasjoner’. In Lidenskap eller levebrød? Utøvende kunst i endring rundt 1800, edited by Randi M. Selvik, Ellen Karoline Gjervan, and Svein Gladsø, 47–​62. Trondheim: Fagbokforlaget, 2015. Glenthøj, Rasmus, ed. Mellem brødre. Dansk-​ norsk samliv i 600 år. Copenhagen (København): Gads Forlag & SAP, 2016. Grinde, Nils. Norsk musikkhistorie. Hovedlinjer i norsk musikkliv gjennom 1000 år. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1981. Herresthal, Harald. ‘Den norske operaens vugge. De første libretti’. In Norges opera & balletthistorie, edited by Arvid O.Vollsnes, 66–​87. Oslo: Opera Forlag, 2010. Hoksnes, Arild, and Marit Rekdal, eds. Syng som folk. Folkeleg songtradisjon frå Romsdal. Molde: Romsdal Sogelag, 1984. Hov, Eva. ‘Outside Canon  –​Anonymous Music and Informal Cultural Activities in Trondheim around 1800’. In Relevance and Marginalisation in Nordic and European Performing Arts 1770–​1860: Questioning Canons, edited by Randi Margrete Selvik, Svein Gladsø, and Annabella Skagen, 102–​27. London: Routledge, 2021. Huldt-​Nystrøm, Hampus.‘Fra musikklivet i Trondheim omkring år 1800. Stadsmusikant Peter Eberg’. In Ringve Museum 25 år: Festskrift til jubileet. Ringve Museums Skrifter III, 1–​17. Trondheim: Ringve Museum, 1977. Jensson, Liv. Teaterliv i Trondhjem 1800–​1835. Oslo: Gyldendal Norsk Forlag, 1965. Kvandal, Lilleba Lund, ed. Norske folkeviser gjennom tusen år. Oslo:  J. W.  Cappelen Forlag, 2000. Michelsen, Kari. Musikkhandel i Norge. Accessed 8 November 2016. www.hf.uio.no/​ imv/​forskning/​prosjekter/​norgesmusikk/​musikkhistarkiv/​notetrykk/​KariM_​bok/​ 03_​Kari_​M_​kap3.pdf. Oehlenschläger, Adam. ‘Freyas Altar’. In Adam Oehlenschlägers Poetiske Skrifter:  Første Deel. 1–​140. Copenhagen (Kiøbenhavn): Hofboghandler J. H. Schubothe, 1805. –––. Freias Alter:  Lystspil. Copenhagen (Kiøbenhavn):  printed by the author, 1816. Pavels, Claus. Dagbogs-​Optegnelser 1815–​1816, vol. 2, edited by Claus Pavels Riis. Oslo (Christiania): Cappelen, 1867. Qvamme, Børre. Det musikalske Lyceum og konsertlivet i Christiania 1810–​ 1838. Oslo: Solum Forlag, 2002. Roverud, Lars. Et Blik paa Musikens Tilstand i Norge:  Med Forslag til dens almindelige Udbredelse i Landet, ved et Instituts Anlæg i Christiania. Oslo (Christiania): Printed by the author, 1815. Rugstad, Gunnar. ‘Hans Hagerup Falbe’. Norsk musikkgranskning. Årbok 1956–​58 (1959): 12–​77. Sivertsen, Håkon. Det Trondhjemske Musikalske Selskab av 1786. Trondheim:  Ringve museum, 1975. Skagen, Annabella. ‘Fra grevens gård til Prinsens gate: Teater i Trondhjem 1790–​1814’. PhD diss., Norges teknisk-​naturvitenskapelige universitet, Trondheim, 2015. –––. ‘Oehlenschläger’s Freyas Altar: A Rejected Singspiel Performed’. In Relevance and Marginalisation in Nordic and European Performing Arts 1770–​1860: Questioning Canons, edited by Randi Margrete Selvik, Svein Gladsø, and Annabella Skagen, 204–​26. London: Routledge, 2021. Sørensen, Villy. ‘Adam Oehlenschläger’. Den Store Danske, Gyldendal. Last modified 31 March 2020. https://​denstoredanske.lex.dk/​Adam_​Oehlenschläger.

250  Randi Margrete Selvik Stensrud, Cecilie Louise Macé. ‘Syngespillet i nytt lys  –​Opera i Norge fra 1790 til 1825’. Studia Musicologica Norvegica 41 (2015): 106–​25. Stensrud, Cecilie Louise Macé. ‘ “Den store Verdens Tone”: Opera i Norge 1800–​1825’. PhD diss., Norges teknisk-​naturvitenskapelige universitet, Trondheim, 2017. Thyregod, S. Tvermose, ed. Danmarks Sanglege. Danmarks folkeminder nr. 38. Copenhagen (København): Det Schönbergske Forlag, 1931. Vollsnes, Arvid, Finn Benestad, Nils Grinde, and Harald Herresthal. Norges musikkhistorie 1814–​70. Volume 2: Den nasjonale tone. Oslo: Aschehoug, 2000. Weber, William. The Rise of Musical Classics in Eighteenth-​Century England: A Study in Canon, Ritual and Ideology. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992. Weber,William.‘The History of Musical Canon’. In Rethinking Music, edited by Nicholas Cook and Mark Everist, 336–​55. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999. Øveras, Asbjorn, A. E. Ericsen and Johan Due. Trondhem katedralskoles historie: 1152– 1952. Trondheim: Brun, 1952.

Archival sources Digitalarkivet (The Digital Archives of Norway) Folketellingen (Census) 1801, Christiania (Oslo). Accessed 18 May 2020. www. digitalarkivet.no/​search/​persons?s=Folketellingen+1801%2C+Christiania.

Nasjonalbiblioteket (National Library of Norway) Rollebesetninger, Protocol No. 2, Theateraaret 1818–​ 19 til 1834. TsArk A1:  7–​ 9. Teaterhistorisk samling.

Riksarkivet (The National Archives of Norway) Folketellingen (Census) 1801 for 1601 Trondheim kjøpstad (town). 6te Rode, Hus 27, 94 Munkegaden.

Statsarkivet i Trondheim (The Regional State Archives in Trondheim) Kopibok nr. 1, 1791–​1797. Nidaros stiftsdireksjon. Ministerialbok (Parish register) for Trondheim prestegjeld (Trondheim parish), Domkirken sokn 1783–​1818. Wille, Hans Jørgen. ‘Node Bog for Hans Jørgen Wille begyndt den 4de Juli 1801’. Handwritten music book. Uncatalogued.

Published music Ibsen, Lars Møller. Duettino af Freias Altar for Sopran og Tenor med Accompagnement for Pianoforte eller Guitarre. N. L. 2. H. No. 3, 4, 5. Christiania: Lars Møller Ibsen, s.a.

13  Questioning the canons of Ibsen’s theatre Re-​searching the relevance of Ibsen’s theatre repertory, 1852–​1862 Jon Nygaard

Introduction Ibsen scholars have canonised certain works as more serious and accordingly more relevant for Ibsen’s artistic development  –​and have neglected or marginalised others, first of all the repertory of vaudevilles, farces, and light comedies, which Ibsen staged in his period as a theatre director and theatre manager at the Norwegian theatres in Bergen and Christiania in the period 1852–​1862. As serious dramas the first to be mentioned are the comedies of Shakespeare, the comedies of Ludvig Holberg, and the tragedies of Adam Oehlen­schläger. Both of the Norwegian pioneers of Ibsen scholarship, Halvdan Koht and Francis Bull, have taken it for granted that Shakespeare influenced Ibsen. Koht’s argument is as easy as ‘What did Shakespeare mean for Ibsen? Has he been an influence in the dramaturgy of Ibsen? Inevitably, he has, since all modern drama has stood under the power of his genius’.1 And Bull argued in the same way that it was obvious that, before his debut as a playwright with Catilina, Ibsen had learnt from his predecessors, and most of all from Shakespeare.2 It is therefore interesting that the dramas which scholars have most frequently suggested as having been influenced by the classic canon, particularly from Shakespeare and Oehlenschläger, are at the same time considered by the same scholars to be the less important of Ibsen’s dramas, such as Catilina (Catiline), Kjæmpehøien (Warrior’s Barrow) and Fru Inger til Østråt (Lady Inger). It is correspondingly interesting that all Ibsen scholars since Francis Bull have claimed almost unanimously that Sancthansnatten (St. John’s Eve) was influenced by the dramatic theory of Herman Hettner,3 who recommended the fairy tale drama (Märchenlustspiel in German), as Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.4 At the same time Sancthansnatten is considered by all scholars –​and even by Ibsen himself –​to be the worst play he ever wrote. This means that it is not obvious that the knowledge of the masterpieces of the canon and the theoretical principles of how to write a drama have been important in Ibsen’s development as a playwright. Thus, there is also good reason to question the leading Norwegian Ibsen scholar Daniel Haakonsen when he claims that we can only

252  Jon Nygaard regret that what was staged at the Norwegian theatres in Ibsen’s time did not measure up to standards and that Ibsen’s development would have been faster if he had had more serious dramas to stage.5 To Haakonsen’s last claim, it is reasonable to ask: how much faster could it actually have been? Ibsen’s development both in the theatre and as a playwright was by any standard extremely rapid. He wrote his first drama, Catilina, at the age of twenty-​one. It received a certain attention and was even kindly reviewed by the leading Norwegian critic of that time, university professor Marcus Monrad. But Catilina was not staged at Christiania Theater (Christiania Theatre), as Ibsen and his friends had hoped it would be. The reason for the refusal, however, was because Catilina was a full-​length, three-​act play and the repertory of the contemporary theatre was normally composed of shorter one-​ act plays.6 When Ibsen arrived in Christiania in the spring of 1850 and understood what the repertory of the theatre consisted of, he within a few weeks rewrote his fragment Normannerne (The Normans) to become the one-​act play Kjæmpehøien. It was immediately accepted and was staged at Christiania Theater in September 1850. As a part of his salary for Kjæmpehøien, Ibsen got free tickets to the theatre, and he used this opportunity to be a theatre critic for the paper Andrimner, which he started in 1851 with two of his friends. In addition, he wrote shorter poems and songs. In autumn of 1851 he wrote the prologue and a song for the Christiania students’ charity evening to support Det norske Theater (The Norwegian Theatre) in Bergen, which had been founded on 2 January of the previous year. The representative of the theatre, the world-​famous violinist Ole Bull, was so impressed by Ibsen’s contribution to the charity evening that he invited him immediately to have a post at the theatre in Bergen. And early the very next morning, Ole Bull and Henrik Ibsen embarked on the ship to Bergen. In Bergen it became obvious that Ibsen had no theatre training at all, so in spring 1852 he got a scholarship to study theatre in Copenhagen and Dresden. In Copenhagen he met with the writer of fairy tales, the most prominent artist of all Danes, Hans Christian Andersen, and the manager of Det Kongelige Teater (The Royal Theatre), Johan Ludvig Heiberg and his wife, the actress Johanne Louise Heiberg. After his return to Bergen, Ibsen was promoted to the position of stage director. In the coming years he staged more than 120 different plays. Only five of them he had written himself. In 1857, at the age of 29, he was offered the position of theatre manager at Christiania Norske Theater (Cristiania Norwegian Theatre).The theatre was founded in 1852 to be a counterpart to Det norske Theater in Bergen and in opposition to Christiania Theater, which was run by Danish management and which used Danish actors. In less than eight years, from 1849 to 1857, Ibsen had developed from being someone with no knowledge of playwriting and theatre business to being the most experienced playwright, theatre director and theatre manager in Norway. This extraordinary development was not at all based on his knowledge of, or his work with, what today is recognised or canonised as serious drama. On the contrary, according to Michael Meyer and other Ibsen biographers and scholars,

Questioning the canons of Ibsen’s theatre  253 the repertory Ibsen staged and even contributed to himself gave ‘a frightening picture of the theatrical taste of the time’.7 To understand Ibsen’s development, we therefore have to question the relevance of the canon. It is high time to deconstruct the concept of ‘classics’ and their importance. In this chapter, I will instead try to bring Ibsen’s theatre repertory in the period 1852–​1862 and the neglected and forgotten playwrights and works of the period back from the margins.

Were the ‘classics’ really ‘classics’ in Ibsen’s time? In the general understanding, a ‘classic’ is a book or work of art accepted to be exemplary or of special value.The term ‘classic’ is often associated with the term ‘canon’ to signify a certain selection of the best or most representative works of a culture or period of time –​as in the literary critic Harold Bloom’s The Western Canon (1994). The basic principle for establishing canons or applying distinctions such as ‘classics’ is the idea of the ‘timeless’ traits of the canonised work, which will always promise social and political relevance because of its form, style and genre. In addition, as obvious in the opinion and reasoning of the Ibsen scholars –​ Koht, Bull and Haakonsen –​is the idea of a common standard. To become a ‘classic’, you have to be a part of the tradition of already established ‘classics’. Seen in this way, it appears obvious that before he became a ‘classic’ himself, Ibsen had learnt from and been inspired by the ‘classics’, and since Ibsen became a ‘classic’ playwright, he had of course learnt the trade from the greatest playwrights, such as Shakespeare. In this chapter, I will question this opinion of the ‘classics’ as a general standard for all art and the idea of an eternal ‘canon’. I will on the contrary claim that what we today understand as ‘classics’ and canonised works were not ‘classics’ and canonised works during Ibsen’s time. The works that were ‘classics’ or highly respected and valued plays during Ibsen’s time have since been neglected and downgraded and even rejected. I  wish to underline that it was from this repertory, which has been generally rejected by scholars, that Ibsen learned the trade in which he later gained the undisputed reputation as a ‘classic’. During Ibsen’s period in Bergen, he actually staged some plays which today are canonised. Meyer especially emphasises that ‘During the last three months of 1856, … Ibsen found himself staging several worthwhile plays of a much better class than had usually fallen to his lot’.8 Based on Jan Olav Gatland’s record of the repertory of Det norske Theater in Bergen, the ‘worthwhile plays’ were Holberg’s Den Stundesløse (The Fidget) and Erasmus Montanus, Oehlenschläger’s Væringerne i Miklagard (The Vikings in Byzantium) and a contemporary ‘classic’, Scribe’s Un verre d’eau.9 The contemporary audience in Bergen, however, was obviously not of the opinion that these plays were worth attending. Holberg’s Den Stundesløse and Oehlenschläger’s Væringerne i Miklagard were given only two performances.

254  Jon Nygaard Holberg’s Erasmus Montanus and Scribe’s Un verre d’eau were given three performances. Other ‘classics’, foreign and domestic, older and newer, such as Calderón de la Barca’s El alcade de Zalamea (1651), were played only three times. And Oehlenschläger had little success in Bergen with other tragedies. Axel og Valborg (Axel and Valborg) was played three times and each of his two other tragedies, Dronning Margareta (Queen Margareta) and Haakon Jarl, was played only twice. Other ‘classics’, such as Shakespeare’s As You Like It, Molière’s Les fourbéries de Scapin, Iffland’s Die Jäger and Dumas’ La fille du regent, were also played only two times. This was the case also with some of Ibsen’s own plays –​Sancthansnatten (St. John’s Eve) (1853), Kjæmpehøien (Warrior’s Barrow) (1854) and Olaf Liljekrands (1857) –​all later considered to be ‘failures’. Even the comedies of the local classic, the Bergen-​born Holberg, had moderate success at Det norske Theater in Bergen. Den Vægelsindede (The Waverer) and Mascarade (Masquerade) were played only two times. A little more successful was Julestuen (The Christmas Party), which was played four times. Henrik og Pernille (Henrik and Pernille), Den politiske Kandestøber (The Political Tinker) and Jacob von Thyboe had more success, all being played six times. The greatest success was Jeppe paa Bierget (Jeppe of the Hill), but even this comedy was played only seven times. Gatland’s well-documented record of the repertory at Det norske Theater in Bergen seriously challenges the idea that the ‘classics’ are timeless and represent constant and everlasting values. In Ibsen’s time at the theatre in Bergen and later in Christiania, there is no reason to claim that he should rather have staged more ‘serious’ dramas.The classic or serious dramas had a very limited audience. Another and more important question is: what was actually to be learnt from the classics? In Ibsen’s time, during the nineteenth century, the theatre changed radically, in acting and staging as well as in infrastructure. All this was expressed in the stage technology and the theatre buildings. A  typical element of this change, in both lighting and stage technology, was first the introduction of gas lighting and then of electricity. All the classics, however, represented earlier ways of acting and staging. To develop the new theatre and the new possibilities of the theatre, a new repertory was necessary. Studied as literature and from our contemporary point of view the new dramas of the nineteenth century can be understood as poor, primitive or of less importance. But we have to study this repertory in light of its contemporary context and as important elements in the development of what we now understand as the modern drama and modern theatre. Instead of regretting what Ibsen could or should have done, we have to focus on what he actually did. Because what he could have done and could have been is quite irrelevant. What is important is what he actually did –​and became.

Were Ibsen’s years in the theatre really a waste of time? The general opinion expressed in great variety by Ibsen scholars is that Ibsen’s years in the theatre were a waste of time and at the sacrifice of writing serious

Questioning the canons of Ibsen’s theatre  255 drama. A typical representative of this view is Michael Meyer. In his opinion, Ibsen’s six years at Det norske Theater in Bergen had been hard. But the next five years at Christiania Norske Theater were even harder, because ‘to produce this succession of featherweight farces and musicals … must indeed have been a protracted nightmare. His own dramatic talent, instead of flowering as he had hoped, had gone barren’.10 Based on new studies of Ibsen by Narve Fulsås,11 Ståle Dingstad,12 Anette Storli Andersen,13 and Ellen Karoline Gjervan,14 it is possible to give quite another version of the same story. Ibsen already received in Bergen, and especially later in Christiania, a regular and good income from the theatre. And actually  –​as Meyer has also underlined  –​within only two years in Bergen Ibsen had learnt ‘the alphabet of his craft’,15 and during the following years he ‘performed practically every task associated with theatrical production except that of acting’.16 According to Meyer, even Ibsen’s strongest opponents on the board of Christiania Norske Theater, such as the prominent linguist Knud Knudsen, claimed that Ibsen ‘undeniably understood the work better than anyone else we could possibly hope to get’. Meyer also pointed out that ‘If one peruses the newspaper reactions to the hundreds of productions that Ibsen presented at the Norwegian theatre, one finds him praised more often than blamed’, that ‘the box-​office takings improved markedly during his tenure of office’, and that under Ibsen’s direction ‘the Norwegian theatre soon found itself able to compete on equal terms with, and sometimes even surpass, the Christiania Theater’.17 However, instead of underlining Ibsen’s obvious success in the theatre, Meyer regretted that Ibsen wrote no plays at all between The Vikings at Helgeland in 1857 and Love’s Comedy in 1862, the longest period of inactivity as a dramatist that he was to know until the first of his strokes incapacitated him in 1900, six years before his death.18 Ibsen’s very last production in the theatre, Kongs-​Emnerne (The Pretenders), directed by Ibsen himself and opening on 17 January 1864, is described by Meyer, based on Halvdan Koht’s biography of Ibsen where Koht quotes an anonymous critic,19 who says that ‘the play gripped the public’ and ‘from start to finish it was followed with excited attention’, and that after the fall of the curtain, the author ‘was rewarded with thunderous applause’.20 Even if this description seems to be a story of the triumphant end of Ibsen’s extraordinarily successful career in Norwegian theatre, both the leading Ibsen scholars Meyer and Koht have interpreted this as the final end of Ibsen’s period of failure and hardship and misspent creativity in the theatre before at last his genius as a dramatic author could blossom. According to Koht, Ibsen could now for the first time in his life breathe freely and feel a strong belief and confidence in his own power and calling to be a poet.21 Why do Koht and Meyer tell another story than the actual facts support?

256  Jon Nygaard Why have established Norwegian Ibsen scholars like Daniel Haakonsen and contemporary scholars like Helge Rønning,22 Toril Moi,23 Ivo de Figueiredo,24 and even Narve Fulsås in his commentaries to the letters in Henrik Ibsens Skrifter25 been willing to adopt Koht and Meyer’s perspective and accept that Ibsen’s period in the theatre had played a negative role in his development? The answer is that in the academic canon, theatre occupies a much lower position than literature. Literature is seen as the original art. Theatre is only a copy of, a translation of, or a second-​rate imitation of literature.26 However, this view of theatre and of the relationship between literature and theatre was not the case in the 1850s when Ibsen started his career. As underlined by the literary scholar Arild Linneberg27 and further developed by Storli Andersen,28 theatre was the most developed aspect of public life in Norway in the 1850s. Ibsen himself was an excellent example of the fact that already in the 1850s the Norwegian theatres were professional institutions. From 1852 he had a regular, full-​time professional career in the theatre, first in Bergen and then in Christiania. Literature first became a professional endeavour only during the second half of the nineteenth century.29 And according to Fulsås, Norway and then the two other Scandinavian countries, Denmark and Sweden, had an established literary market long before Germany.30 Ibsen is also an excellent example of the change in the market and the public. In 1850 it was his ultimate goal for Catilina to have it staged at the theatre. It was only his second option to have it printed and published as a book. With few exceptions, his next plays in the 1850s and early 1860s were first staged at the theatre and then published, if they were printed at all.31 The first versions of Kjæmpehøien (Warrior’s Barrow), Sancthansnatten (St. John’s Eve) and Olaf Liljekrans were not even published in Ibsen’s lifetime. For different reasons, Hærmændene paa Helgeland (The Vikings at Helgeland) and Kongs-​Emnerne (The Pretenders) were published shortly before they were staged. Kjærlighedens Komedie (Love’s Comedy) in 1862 was the first play to be printed long before it was staged. After 1864, all Ibsen’s plays were first printed and only then performed, if at all in his lifetime. Ibsen was also eagerly concerned to have his works published first as books before the theatres could get access to the text.

Was the ‘staple diet’ repertory really of low standard? According to Meyer, Christiania Norske Theater ‘found themselves compelled, like their fellows at Bergen, to fall back upon the staple diet of Danish vaudeville and French farce and musical comedy’.32 And he adds ‘Not that the quality of the repertory at the Danish-​controlled Christiania Theater was any different, or any better. This was clearly what the public wanted’.33 The situation was, in Meyer’s opinion, no better in Copenhagen, or in London: ‘There were no good playwrights … nothing more interesting … no better than the trivia he had been directing at home. Nor was it a great period for English acting’. And: ‘Nor would Paris have had much more to offer’.34

Questioning the canons of Ibsen’s theatre  257 It was nevertheless from these miserable conditions that the modern ‘classic’ Ibsen was born. It is therefore necessary to change the perspective.When Meyer can find nothing of value anywhere in the theatre, there is reason to ask if the negative evaluation of the repertory is because the texts have been read out of context. The playtexts performed in the theatre of the 1850s and 1860s have been interpreted from today’s standards and not in relation to the theatre of their period.Today’s standards are based on what has resulted from the repertory of the 1850s, and not on the repertory before that time. This means that what from today’s standards are seemingly unimportant texts, were in fact important elements in the development of theatre towards modern drama of the late nineteenth century. Or, in other words, the repertory staged by Ibsen  –​and his Norwegian contemporary Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson – ​in the 1850s and early 1860s was actually the background for their developing the modern drama and establishing themselves as world-​famous playwrights at the end of the nineteenth century. Accordingly, the quality of the repertory of the 1850s and early 1860s has to be reconsidered. First of all, a reconsideration of this repertory has to question the idea of a ‘staple diet of Danish vaudeville and French farce and musical comedy’ as if this was a homogeneous bunch of plays with little or no variety between the different theatres. The opposite is the fact. There was a striking difference between the repertory of the Norwegian theatres in Bergen and Christiana. Of the 122 plays staged in Bergen during Ibsen’s period, as many as 96 were not staged at Christiania Norske Theater during his period as the theatre manager there. Twelve were played a limited number of times, and only 14 were played as often in Christiania as in Bergen. And the other way around: of the 44 plays that were played most often in Christiania, 33 were never played in Bergen. Six plays were hardly played in Bergen, and only five were played as often in Bergen as in Christiania.This means that less than 10 per cent of the plays could be characterised as a ‘staple diet’. Or in other words, more than 90 per cent of the plays were not a ‘staple diet’, but were specially chosen with the local conditions, the actual actors and the actual audience in mind. The plays performed most often during Ibsen’s time were different at the Norwegian theatres in Bergen and Christiania. Based on Gatland’s survey, those most often played in Bergen can be categorised as Danish vaudevilles and French farces and musical comedies. But these categories are not necessarily an indication of the plays’ low quality. The most played was Soldaterløier (Soldiers’ Fun) by Jens Christian Hostrup. Hostrup had also three other plays among the most played during Ibsen’s time in Bergen –​ Den Tredje (The Third), Mester og Lærling (Master and Apprentice), and Eventyr paa Fodreisen (Tales of the Walking Tour). All these plays were called Syngespil (Singspiel) and can by Meyer’s concepts be categorised as ‘Danish vaudevilles’. But were they then necessarily of low quality or standard? Hostrup was a priest and a highly respected man who also published two volumes of religious songs and poems and a devotional book. In his youth, he became a friend of the Danish national bard Oehlenschläger, and later he was inspired

258  Jon Nygaard by both the Austrian playwright Raimund and the leading critic, playwright, and theatre manager in his contemporary Denmark, Johan Ludvig Heiberg. As a playwright, Hostrup has, together with Oehlenschläger, Heiberg and H.C. Andersen, been hailed as a representative of the ‘Danish Golden Age’. The second most often performed play in Bergen during Ibsen’s time was the vaudeville En Søndag paa Amager (A Sunday at Amager) by Johanne Louise Heiberg. She was the most famous actress of nineteenth-​century Denmark and married to Johan Ludvig Heiberg, who played a vigorous part in Danish theatre history as a theatre critic, a theatre manager, and as the author of the Danish national play Elverhøj (Elves’ Hill). In his book Om Vaudevillen (On the Vaudeville) from 1826, Heiberg presented vaudeville in opposition to dilettantism and shallowness.According to Jon Bartley Stewart, the vaudeville was for Heiberg ‘a strong defence of true science’, an expression of a scientific approach, and the comedy, laughter, satire, and irony of vaudeville was an attack on the grave and serious romantic movement.35 Interpreted from this perspective, it is obvious that Johanne Louise Heiberg’s vaudeville, and Heiberg’s own vaudevilles and his translations and adaptations of French vaudevilles, and comedies should not be understood as ‘featherweight’, as Meyer does. Danish vaudevilles and Danish adaptations of French vaudevilles were a part of a general re-​evaluation and renewal of the theatre in the 1850s and early 1860s. The vaudevilles in the Danish theatre paved the way for a market for the modern dramas of Bjørnson and Ibsen, all of which were first published in Denmark. The French farces and musical comedies played the same role as ‘door openers’ for the modern drama as did the Danish vaudevilles. First of all, Eugène Scribe and his partners modernised the theatre.The standard decoration known as ‘the Scribe room’, the closed room decoration with an opening on each of the three walls, was introduced at almost all theatres in Europe in the 1850s. Almost all the rooms described in Ibsen’s later contemporary dramas are based on this pattern. The dramatic action of Ibsen’s contemporary dramas was also composed in accordance with the principles of the ‘well-​made play’ of Scribe. Generally, the term ‘classic’ refers to a work of a very high standard, and for a writer to be recognised as a ‘classic’ he or she should have obtained membership of an Academy. Scribe and his collaborators and leading contemporary playwrights in France should in both respects be regarded as ‘classics’. Between the 1820s and the 1850s, Scribe and other French playwrights dominated the repertory of European theatres in all varieties of genres from simple one-​act farces to Grand opéra. Scribe’s high reputation with his contemporaries was reflected in the fact that he was elected to the Académie française (French Academy) already in 1834 and he also received the high order of Commander of the League of Honours (Commandeur de la Légion d’honneur).36 His reputation was still high in Ibsen’s period in Bergen. Ten per cent of the plays in the repertory were by Scribe and his collaborators, and these plays represented the same proportion of the total number of plays performed there. But only one of the most often performed plays was by Scribe and his

Questioning the canons of Ibsen’s theatre  259 collaborators, and among the failures in the repertory –​plays with only one performance –​we find as many as four by Scribe and company. This was an obvious indication of a change in the repertory. Other French playwrights of Scribe’s generation, who like him, were respected members of the Académie française, such as Jacques Ancelot in 184137 and Émile Augier in 1857,38 were hardly played in Bergen, and their plays had a low attendance when performed. On the other hand, works by Eugène Labiche, a representative of a younger generation of French playwrights, had a promisingly high attendance. In 1880 he was a member of the Académie française.39 According to Øyvind Anker’s survey, Ibsen’s repertory at Det Norske Theater in Christiania was quite different from the repertory he had staged in Bergen. In Christiania the French vaudevilles and Scribe and his collaborators’ plays were among the most played –​even though Ibsen as a theatre critic had especially criticised the repertory of Scribe and company as ‘dramatic candy’.40 The repertory at Christiania Norske Theater included also a much higher proportion of Norwegian plays than that of Det norske Theater in Bergen. The most performed play at Christiania Norske Theater was Claus Pavels Riis’ Til Sæters (To the Mountain Farm). Among the most played in Ibsen’s time was also Fjeldeventyret (The Mountain Tale) by Henrik Anker Bjerregaard, with music by Waldemar Thrane, the first Norwegian national theatrical event to be staged at the first public theatre in Christiania in 1827. More surprising was that in Christiania, Ibsen also frequently staged Huldrens Hjem (The Wood Nymph’s Home) by P.A. Jensen and Gudbrandsdølene (The Gudbrandsdalesmen) by Christian Monsen. Neither of these plays were staged in Bergen. Ibsen’s review of the performance of Jensen’s play at Christiania Theater in 1851 had also been ironic and negative. According to Ibsen, the national quality was external, and the author had not been able to distinguish between it and the simple reality; he had just given a petty copy of scenes from everyday life. The real national artist, however, would, according to Ibsen’s national romantic opinion of the national be able to give his work of art the essence of mountain and valley, slope and strand, and, above all, the nation’s own inner being.41 Ibsen’s review of Monsen’s play was published in January 1858, after he had started as the theatre manager of Christiania Norske Theater. This review represented a national romantic idea of art as an expression of the true and innermost life of the people, and claimed that the unconscious aesthetic of folk poetry should also be expressed in artistic poetry. For this reason, he criticised Monsen for not being able to listen to contemporary demands, but at the same time he emphasised that Gudbrandsdølene deserved to be staged in order to challenge the claim made by Christiania Theater that no contemporary Norwegian plays were able to achieve a permanent position in the theatre repertory.42 Ibsen certainly proved this last point: Gudbrandsdølene was played nineteen times at Christiania Norske Theater. Ibsen’s repertory at Christiania Norske Theater was obviously more ambitious than it was at Det norske Theater in Bergen. It was composed with greater variety and had a much larger proportion of Norwegian and contemporary

260  Jon Nygaard plays than in Bergen. It is therefore difficult to agree with Meyer when he claims that ‘[n]owhere, probably, in Europe could he have found a less inspiring town to work in’.43

Was Christiania the problem? Ever since Audhild Lund published her book on Ibsen and Christiania Norske Theater in 1925, it has been repeated uncritically by Ibsen biographers and scholars that Ibsen’s problem was that Christiania was such a small town at the time that it could not profitably support two theatres.44 Another of Lund’s undisputed and repeated claims was that Christiania Norske Theater attracted a lower class of audience compared with Christiania Theater. However, there are no reasons to support either of these claims. Bergen was until the 1830s the largest town in Norway, and before 1700 it had actually been the largest town in all of Scandinavia. But after Christiania became the new capital of Norway in 1814, the importance of this town changed radically, from being an average trading port to being the new centre of public and private administration, finance, trade, and learning. The Norwegian parliament, government, military headquarters, stock exchange, and university were all established in Christiania. In addition, all kinds of private businesses, investors, bankers, and entrepreneurs were moving there, both from other Norwegian towns and from Northern and Western Europe. Christiania became the ‘magnet’ Bergen had been, and since the census of 1835 Christiania (Oslo) has been the largest city in Norway. According to the official census in 1855, Christiania had 38,958 inhabitants and Bergen had 25,797.45 In 1866 Christiania had 57,382 inhabitants and Bergen had 27,703.46 And the population of Christiania continued to grow rapidly. In 1900, the population of Christiania was 227,626 or almost six times larger than in 1855.47 This means that the potential audience in Christiania when Ibsen returned from Bergen in 1857 was larger than in Bergen, and during his period as the manager at Christiania Norske Theater the audience grew to be more than double the audience he had had in Bergen. In addition to the fact that the audience was growing rapidly, Christiania also had a much larger proportion of theatre visitors in the upper and middle classes: civil servants, businessmen and their families. So if Bergen was large enough to have one theatre, Christiania should in the 1860s have been large enough to have at least two. This fact is also underlined by the almost sensational difference in public attendance between the Norwegian theatres in Bergen and Christiania. Based on how many times a play was performed, we could expect that the numbers were more or less equal if we suggest, as Lund and others have, that Christiania Norske Theater had half of the ‘market’ in the city and Christiania Theater the other half. However, with a few exceptions (as when a play was given more frequently in Bergen or not staged in Christiania at all), similar plays had an overwhelmingly higher number of performances at Christiania Norske Theater relative to the number of performances at Det norske Theater in Bergen.To give

Questioning the canons of Ibsen’s theatre  261 some examples, the French vaudeville Les jolis soldats adapted by J.L. Heiberg was played 42 times in Christiania, and only five times in Bergen. The operetta La chanteuse voile by Scribe was played 29 times in Christiania and just seven times in Bergen. The largest total number of performances for a play in Christiania was 80 for Til Sæters (To the Mountain Farm), while in Bergen the largest number of performances for a play was only 19, for Soldaterløier (Soldiers’ Fun). At Christiania Norske Theater, 13 plays were played 19 times or more. Christiania Norske Theater was presented by Ibsen himself as a public theatre (et Folketheater), and he compared it with Casino Teatret (the Casino Theatre) in Copenhagen.48 The biggest success of Casino Teatret in the 1850s was En Caprice (A Caprice) by the theatre’s manager Erik Bøgh. It was staged for the first time on 25 September 1858 and played 46 times until 11 May 1861.49 A year later, 7 September 1859, En Caprice staged by Ibsen had its first night at Christiania Norske Theater.The production then ran en suite 36 times that year. It was later taken up again, and according to Anker’s survey, was played a total of 48 times there –​or as many times as the original production in Copenhagen. As a second theatre in the city, Christiania Norske Theater could actually match the great success of Casino Teatret, the second theatre in the much larger city Copenhagen. The high number of performances at Christiania Norske Theater compared with the theatre in Bergen and even with Casino Teatret in Copenhagen also indicates that the two theatres in Christiania, Christiania Norske Theater and Christiania Theater, could not possibly have had two separate audiences. In proportion to the number of inhabitants of Christiania, the number of people attending En Caprice was about 67 per cent or two-​thirds of the population. In addition, there were at least ten other productions at Christiania Norske Theater in the late 1850s that had an attendance distinctly higher than 50 per cent of the total population in Christiania. This means that the two theatres of Christiania must obviously have had the same audience –​or better –​the majority of the theatre audience in Christiania visited both theatres. This majority of the audience then, as also before and after, belonged to the same class of the population, those with the highest education and the highest income. If there was any difference between the two theatres, the members of the board of Christiania Norske Theater represented a much broader range of the new upper class in the capital of military officers, civil servants, university, and university higher school professors, bankers, merchants, and industrial entrepreneurs. This difference can be related to the particular circumstances of the Norwegian theatre history. Unlike the other Scandinavian countries, Denmark and Sweden, and other European countries such as England, France, and especially Germany, Norway had never had a royal theatre. Theatre in Norway was founded as an activity of cultural education for the upper classes. In the wake of the Age of Enlightenment, dramatic societies were founded in most Norwegian towns along the coast. According to Storli Andersen, the dramatic societies in this period are to be understood as patriotic and democratic institutions that were a common background for the most important members of the

262  Jon Nygaard constitutional assembly in 1814.50 After 1814, the dramatic societies lost their original function and the movement died out along with the generation of its original members. In the same period, a new upper class was moving into the new capital Christiania. The members of this new class neither belonged to the former patrician class, which had dominated business and politics in Norway before 1814, nor to the civil servant class, which had taken over the political power after 1814.The members of the new class, however, took over the former upper class’s obligation to develop factories and new financial institutions and at the same time to support culture, first of all theatre. Some of them were also young immigrants to Christiania associated with the new dramatic society, Det borgerlige dramatiske Selskab (the Citizens’ Dramatic Society), founded in 1805, which took over the position of the former upper-​class dramatic society founded a generation earlier, in 1780. Det borgerlige dramatiske Selskab was a social arena where newcomers could meet their business partners and the younger generation could find their partners for marriage.51 The later theatres in Christiania founded in 1827, 1837, and 1852 had professional management and professional actors –​but the members of the upper class were still the members of the board and the audience. In the 1850s we find the newcomers as both members of the board of Christiania Norske Theater, and leading civil servants and cultural personalities, as well as founders of enterprises that have been the ‘backbone’ of Norwegian industry and of firms and brands that are still today well-known by all Norwegians. In 1852, three men had the daring idea to establish a Norwegian theatre and a Norwegian dramatic school in Christiania. Already the following year the board of the theatre included such important cultural personalities as the lawyer, civil servant and author Nicolai Ramm Østgaard, who represented the national turn in Norwegian literature,52 and Knud Knudsen, the founder of the modern written and spoken Norwegian language, Den landsgyldige norske Uttale (the National Norwegian Pronounciation).53 Based on Anker’s survey of the repertory and the members of the board, it is possible to give a rather detailed description of the later members and substitutes of the board, all of whom represented the new class of cultural, industrial and financial entrepreneurs both nationally and in the growing capital of Christiania. The next members of the board were the printer and important publisher of Norwegian literature Peter T. Malling54 and Jørgen Gjerdrum, who was the first head of Storebrand, the largest insurance company in Norway, and later founder of the life insurance company Idun.55 A new substitute the next year, and a later board member, was Oluf Onsum,56 the founder of both Christiania Spigerverk, for a long period of time the largest iron and steel producer in Norway, and Kværner, which today is a leading supplier of industrial technology for the Norwegian and international oil industry. In the following years, the board of Christiania Norske Theater included prominent literary scholars such as Hartvig Lassen,57 editor of the first Norwegian reader for school children; university professors such as Marcus Jacob Monrad,58 for almost 50 years the leading philosopher and literary critic

Questioning the canons of Ibsen’s theatre  263 in Norway; linguist Carl Richard Unger;59 philosopher and jurist Claus Winter Hjelm;60 central representatives for the general education and Enlightenment movement such as Ole Vig61 and Siegwart Petersen;62 the author and advocate for the ‘New Norwegian’ language (Landsmål) Aasmund Olavsson Vinje;63 and lawyer and politician Ole Richter, who later became the Norwegian prime minister in Stockholm.64 On the other hand, the board counted further representatives of the expanding industrialisation in Christiania: Peter Petersena

Peter W. W. Kildalb Abraham Hesselbergc Fritz Frølichd Westye Egeberge

Manager of the textile plant Nydalens Compagnie, the largest industrial enterprise in Norway at the end of the nineteenth century. Initiator of the building of Victoria Terrasse, the largest and most modern apartment building complex in Norway, where Ibsen first moved in when he returned to Norway in 1895. Owner of Lilleborg Fabrikker, today the largest brand of cleaning and hygienic items in Norway. Co-​founder of Frydenlunds Brewery. Founder of Follum paper mill and the shipyard Nylands Verksted. Founder of the first match factory in Norway, Nitedals. Head of the first private bank, Christiania Bank og Kreditkasse. After 1830 the largest timber merchant and forest owner in Norway.

 Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v. ‘Peter Petersen’, accessed 30 May 2020, nbl.snl.no/​Peter_​Petersen.  Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v. ‘Peter Kildal’, accessed 30 May 2020, nbl.snl.no/​Peter_​Kildal. c  Lokalhistoriewiki, s.v. ‘Abraham Hesselberg (1817–​ 1895)’, accessed 26 September 2020, lokalhistoriewiki.no/​wiki/​Abraham_​Hesselberg_​(1817%E2%80%931895). d  Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v.‘F H Frølich’, accessed 30 May 2020, nbl.snl.no/​F_​H_​Fr%C3%B8lich. e   Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v.‘Westye Egeberg’, accessed 30 May 2020, nbl.snl.no/​Westye_​Egeberg. a

b

It is unlikely that all these prominent, creative, and busy men should have found it worthwhile to be representatives of the board year after year if Christiania Norske Theater really was understood to be a second-​rate and unimportant theatre. The prominent social position of the board members is also an indication of the social position of the theatre audience. The largest box-​office success of Christiania Norske Theater, En Caprice by Erik Bøgh, is also an indicator of the social position of the audience. In relation to the population of the town, this was actually by far the largest box-​office success in Norwegian theatre history. Some contemporary critics, including Ibsen’s friend and counterpart Bjørnson, claimed that by staging En Caprice Christiania Norske Theater had become a ‘ballet theatre’ and an amusement ground for the lower classes. Ibsen scholars have been insistent on considering performances with dance as ‘popular’ without asking the question,‘what kind of dances were actually presented –​and who had a knowledge and understanding of these dances?’ The answer is that the dances presented in En Caprice were the minuet and other social dances, known and performed mainly or even exclusively by the upper classes. So Ibsen was actually not bowing to the ‘lower’

264  Jon Nygaard public taste by staging En Caprice, but on the contrary was presenting a performance for the new upper-​class connoisseurs.65

If Ibsen did everything right, why did theatre attendance decline? When Ibsen took over the position as manager of Christiania Norske Theater, he could proudly present to the board the fact that within two seasons he had doubled the income, and he continued to have the same high level of income in the following seasons. The deficit was high, however, and became dramatically higher when the board, obviously against Ibsen’s will, both bought and then reconstructed the theatre building. Even with record high income, it was impossible to fill the gap between income and expenses. Because the reconstructed theatre also had fewer seats than the older one, the size of the audiences dropped as well. The other important problem was the lack of new plays in the repertory. Ibsen had already enunciated this problem in 1851 as a young critic in Christiania. In a rather negative review of En blaseret Herre (Austrian original title:  Einen Jux will er sich machen) by the Austrian playwright Johann Nestroy, Ibsen concluded that there was no reason to criticise the managers for presenting this play, because no new plays were written in Norway, nor in Denmark, Scribe was hackneyed –​and then what was left?66 Ibsen repeated the same question ten years later at the end of his comment to the theatre critic in Christianiaposten: if nothing of what he had staged was worth staging, ‘what then is left?’67 What Ibsen emphasised in 1851 and again in 1861, was the problem of the repertory, because nothing new was being presented anywhere. In his time as the theatre manager he had really tried everything possible. He had staged both Scribe and company and newer Norwegian plays, even though as a critic he had reviewed them negatively. He had also, with a certain success, staged Gudbrandsdølene (The Gudbrandsdalesmen) to challenge the claim of the manager at Christiania Theater that no contemporary Norwegian plays were able to achieve a permanent position in the theatre repertory. Compared with Det norske Theater in Bergen, he had definitely been the more successful and had presented a broader variety of plays and more Norwegian plays. In addition, the plays he had presented had been repeated more often in Christiania than in Bergen. Of the two theatres in Christiania, his Norwegian theatre had often been the more successful, and with En Caprice he could also challenge Casino Teatret in Copenhagen, the very theatre the play was especially written for by the theatre’s manager Erik Bøgh. It is then understandable that after 1860 Ibsen was eagerly defending himself and his theatre in a series of contributions in the newspapers. But he could not avoid the fact that his theatre went bankrupt in 1862. Leading representatives of the board, above all Knud Knudsen, blamed Ibsen and his management for

Questioning the canons of Ibsen’s theatre  265 the collapse of Christiania Norske Theater. Afterwards, most scholars have taken Knudsen’s opinion for granted. It was first Anette Storli Andersen who found another explanation for Ibsen’s disaster as a theatre manager. In her doctoral thesis ‘Deus ex machina?’, she made a graph showing the development of the ‘core audience’ or attendance in relation to the population of Christiania for theatre and the printed media newspapers and books in the period 1800–​1900.68 Theatre attendance had a rapid rise in the years before 1814. This was the golden age of the dramatic societies. Theatre activity involved more than 7 per cent of the population or, in other words, almost every member of the upper classes. After 1814, theatre attendance dropped, to a little more than 2 per cent by 1850. Then in a short period of time, from 1850 to 1864, theatre attendance first rose rapidly for about ten years and was in 1859 close to the 7 per cent level of 1814.Then it dropped dramatically and in 1864 was under 2 per cent. During the next 25 years, the theatre attendance rose slowly to 2 per cent –​and has since remained at this level until today. For the printed media, the development has been radically different. Before 1860, the reading of newspapers was lower than 2 per cent. But it was rising slowly, and in the first few years of the 1860s the rising reading of newspapers passed the dramatically dropping theatre attendance. After that, reading of newspapers rose, and the number of newspaper readers in 1900 was more than five times higher than in 1860. The reading of books followed the same development as the reading of newspapers. And what is more, the attendance was counted in relation to the population, which means that the total volume of the written media, newspapers and books, was about 25 times larger in 1900 than it had been in 1860. On the other hand, the development of the total theatre audience was moderate. The relationship between the 7 per cent of the population in 1860 and the 2 per cent of a five times larger population in 1900, is seven to ten. What Ibsen experienced in his period in the theatre between 1851 and 1864 was, accordingly, a radical change in cultural behaviour, from theatre or collectively performed art to individual consumption of printed media. The market for printed media exploded. The market for theatre was almost unchanged. This explains why the rapidly growing population of Christiania could manage very well with just Christiania Theater and that the new National Theatre (Nationaltheatret), which opened in 1899, had about the same capacity as the older Christiania Theater. In Bergen the development was even more striking. When the new theatre opened in 1909, it had just a little more than half of the capacity of the old theatre. In Trondheim the theatre of the dramatic society, opened in 1816, was the only theatre in the town until a new theatre was opened in 1997. The population of Trondheim in 1997 was 25 times higher than it was in 1816. It is no wonder that Ibsen completely changed his means of production and his intended market after 1864. Before 1864, almost all his income was from

266  Jon Nygaard the theatre. After 1864 he found a larger and larger reading audience for his printed dramas. The most impressive information we can get from these figures is how Ibsen could manage to counter what seems to have been a steady decline of theatre attendance during the 50 years from 1814 to 1864. To stress the importance of his contribution, he not only counteracted the general tendency of theatre attendance to diminish, but also brought it almost up to the same high level as in 1814. It is therefore high time to reconsider Ibsen’s years as a theatre manager and to give him the credit he deserves for his remarkable contribution to Norwegian theatre history.

Conclusion To understand Ibsen’s development as an artist, we have to question the relevance of statements like Meyer’s, that Ibsen’s repertory gave ‘a frightening picture of the theatrical taste of the time’.69 Literary standards are relevant for literature –​not for theatre. Studied as literature and from our contemporary point of view, the repertory of nineteenth-​century theatres can be understood as poor, primitive, and of little importance. But instead of interpreting the repertory as a frightening picture of the theatrical taste of the time, as Meyer does, we have to study the actual repertory relative to contemporary conditions and as an important element in the development of the theatre and the founding of what we now understand as the modern drama. Playwrights who by today’s standards were seemingly unimportant, were in their time prominent members of the Académie française.This was not because the time was without taste, but because plays were evaluated by other standards, not as literature, but as repertory for the theatre. In the theatre, according to Ibsen, the artistic question is not what is staged but how it is staged.70 At the end of Ibsen’s time in the theatre, however, the artistic ‘market’ changed radically from theatre to printed media. And the relevance of artistic criteria changed accordingly.What is interesting here, is that the repertory Ibsen staged in the theatre of the 1850s and early 1860s, which lost its former value in the change from a theatrical to a literary ‘canon’, was actually the background for his developing the modern literary drama and establishing himself as a world-​famous author at the end of the nineteenth century. Ibsen’s repertory of the 1850s and early 1860s has also to be reconsidered in this light. We therefore have to question the relevance of ‘canons’ as general guidelines of artistic value. It is high time to deconstruct the concept of ‘classics’ and the importance of the ‘classics’. In this chapter, I have therefore tried to bring neglected and forgotten playwrights and works back from the margins. I have both questioned the opinion that the ‘classics’ are a general standard for all art and the idea of an eternal ‘canon’. What we today understand as ‘classics’ and canonised works, were not ‘classics’ and canonised works in other eras. What were ‘classics’ or highly respected and valued plays in earlier eras, have later been neglected and downgraded, even rejected.

Questioning the canons of Ibsen’s theatre  267 Accordingly, we have to change the perspective of our studies of art and no longer search for what we understand as ‘classics’ or works with a high standard, but instead study the actual, historical context.What scholars from later periods of time have generally rejected might, as in Ibsen’s case, have been the background and context for an artist who has later attained an undisputed reputation as a ‘classic’.

Notes 1 Koht, ‘Shakespeare and Ibsen’, 79. 2 Bull, ‘Innledning’ [Introduction to Catilina],  34–​35. 3 Bull, ‘Innledning’ [Introduction to Sancthansnatten],  12–​13. 4 Hettner, Das moderne Drama. 5 ‘Man kan bare beklage at det som ble spilt på norske teatre i denne tiden, ikke riktig holder mål. Ibsens utvikling ville vel gått raskere hvis han hadde fått mer seriøse tekster å arbeide med.’ (‘One can only regret that what was staged in Norwegian theatres in this period was not quite up to scratch. Ibsen may well have developed faster had he received more serious texts to work with.’) Haakonsen, Henrik Ibsen, 63. All translations by Annabella Skagen unless otherwise indicated. 6 According to Michael Meyer, ‘[t]‌he usual evening bill consisted of two or three short pieces varied with songs, declamations, and tableaux vivants’. Meyer, Ibsen, 145. 7 Ibid., Ibsen, 23. 8 Ibid., Ibsen, 133. 9 Gatland, Repertoaret ved Det norske theater. 10 Meyer, Ibsen, 192. 11 Fulsås, ‘Kva for ein Ibsen?’; ‘Ibsen Misrepresented’. 12 Dingstad, ‘Mytene etableres’; Den smilende Ibsen. 13 Andersen, ‘Deus ex machina?’; ‘In the Right Place, at the Right Time’. 14 Gjervan, ‘Creating Theatrical Space’; ‘Ibsen Staging Ibsen’; ‘Henrik Ibsen’s Two Stage Renderings’. 15 Meyer, Ibsen, 83. 16 Ibid., 86. 17 Ibid., 193. 18 Ibid., 166. 19 Koht, Henrik Ibsen, 215. 20 Meyer, Ibsen, 211–​12. 21 ‘For fyrste gong i livet pusta han ut i fri og sterk tru og tillit på si eiga diktar-​evne, sitt diktar-​kall.’ (‘For the first time in his life, he could rest in a free, strong faith and confidence in his own poetic powers, his calling as a writer.’) Koht, Henrik Ibsen, 216. 22 Rønning, Den umulige friheten. 23 Moi, Henrik Ibsen and the Birth of Modernism. 24 de Figueiredo, Henrik Ibsen: Mennesket/​Masken. 25 Fulsås, ‘Innledning. Brev 1844–​1871’; ‘Innledning. Brev 1871–​1879’. 26 A typical example of this understanding is presented by Inga-​Stina Ewbank: ‘the art of the theatre is one which translates the verbal script into the language of performance’. Ewbank, ‘Reading Ibsen’s Signs’, 9–​10. 27 Linneberg, Norsk litteraturkritikks historie 1848–​1870, 36.

268  Jon Nygaard 28 Andersen, ‘Deus ex machina?’, 211–​15. 29 Fulsås, ‘Innledning. Brev 1844–​1871’, 26. 30 Ibid., ‘Innledning. Brev 1871–​1879’, 28–​31. 31 Andersen, ‘Deus ex machina?’, 222–​3. 32 Meyer, Ibsen, 145. 33 Ibid., Ibsen, 146. 34 Ibid., Ibsen, 179. 35 Stewart, Johan Ludvig Heiberg, 229. 36 Dictionnaire de l’Académie française, s.v. ‘Eugene Scribe’, academie-​francaise.fr/​les-​ immortels/​eugene-​scribe?fauteuil=13&election=27-​11-​1834. 37 Dictionnaire de l’Académie française, s.v. ‘Jacques Ancelot’, academie-​francaise.fr/​les-​ immortels/​jacques-​francois-​ancelot?fauteuil=30&election=25-​02-​1841. 38 Dictionnaire de l’Académie française, s.v. ‘Émile Augier’, academie-​francaise.fr/​les-​ immortels/​emile-​augier?fauteuil=1&election=31-​03-​1857. 39 Dictionnaire de l’Académie française, s.v. ‘Eugène Labiche’, academie-​francaise.fr/​les-​ immortels/​eugene-​labiche?fauteuil=15&election=26-​02-​1880. 40 ‘dramatiske Slikkerier’. Ibsen, Hundreårsutgave, 47. 41 ‘Den nationale Forfatter er den, der forstaar at meddele sit Værk hiin Grundtone, der klinger os imøde fra Fjeld og Dal, fra Li og Strand, men fremfor Alt fra vort eget Indre.’ (‘The national writer is he who knows how to imbue his work with that keynote which rings forth to us, resounding from mountain and valley, from hillside and strand, but most of all from our own inner being.) Ibsen, Hundreårsutgave, 81. 42 Ibsen, Hundreårsutgave, 187–​90. 43 Meyer, Ibsen, 193. 44 Lund, Henrik Ibsen og det norske teater. 45 Departementet for det Indre, Tabeller over Folkemængden 1855, III. 46 Departementet for det Indre, Resultaterne af Folketællingen 1866, III. 47 Det statistiske Centralbureau, Folketællingen 1900, 99. 48 Ibsen, Hundreårsutgave, 239–​40. 49 Dansk Forfatterleksikon, s.v.‘En Caprice’, accessed 30 May 2020, danskforfatterleksikon. dk/​1850t/​pnr3106.htm. 50 Andersen, ‘Deus ex machina?’. 51 For example, the young Engel Reichborn as an actress in Det borgerlige dramatiske Selskab attracted the young immigrant Nicolai Andresen from southern Denmark and became the first mother of the later Andresen dynasty, which for more than 200 years and still today has been the richest and most influential in the Norwegian economy and society. Sogner, Andresens,  32–​33. 52 Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v. ‘Nikolai Ramm Østgaard  –​ 1’, nbl.snl.no/​Nikolai_​ Ramm_​%C3%98stgaard_​-​_​1. 53 Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v. ‘Knud Knudsen –​ 1’, nbl.snl.no/​Knud_​Knudsen_​-​_​1. 54 Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v. ‘Peter T Malling’, nbl.snl.no/​Peter_​T_​Malling. 55 Gierløff, Storebrand gjennom 100 år, 62, 285. 56 Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v. ‘Oluf Onsum’, accessed 30 May 2020, nbl.snl.no/​Oluf_​ Onsum. 57 Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v. ‘Hartvig Lassen’, accessed 30 May 2020, nbl.snl.no/​ Hartvig_​Lassen. 58 Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v. ‘Marcus Monrad’, accessed 30 May 2020, nbl.snl.no/​ Marcus_​Monrad.

Questioning the canons of Ibsen’s theatre  269 59 Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v. ‘C R Unger’, accessed 30 May 2020, nbl.snl.no/​C_​R_​ Unger. 60 Store norske leksikon, s.v. ‘Claus Winter Hjelm’, accessed 30 May 2020, snl.no/​Claus_​ Winter_​Hjelm. 61 Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v. ‘Ole Vig’, accessed 30 May 2020, nbl.snl.no/​Ole_​Vig. 62 Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v. ‘Siegwart Blumenthal Petersen’, accessed 30 May 2020, nbl.snl.no/​Siegwart_​Blumenthal_​Petersen. 63 Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v. ‘Aasmund Olavsson Vinje’, accessed 30 May 2020, nbl. snl.no/​Aasmund_​Olavsson_​Vinje. 64 Norsk biografisk leksikon, s.v. ‘Ole Richter’, accessed 30 May 2020, nbl.snl.no/​Ole_​ Richter. 65 Svarstad and Nygaard, ‘A Caprice –​The Summit’. 66 ‘Vi selv producere Intet, de Danske hellerikke, Scribe er fortærsket, og hvad er det saa tilbage?’ (‘We ourselves produce nothing, nor do the Danes, Scribe is exhausted, and then what is left?’) Ibsen, Hundreårsutgave, 61. 67 ‘Hvad bliver altsaa tilbage?’ Ibsen, Hundreårsutgave, 269. 68 Andersen, ‘Deus ex machina?’, 217. 69 Meyer, Ibsen, 23. 70 Ibsen, Hundreårsutgave, 259.

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General index

The general index is based on the grouping of entries belonging to the fields dance, music, opera, and theatre (in general). To avoid very extensive categories, thematic sub-categories are also established, especially ones relating to the core issues of the anthology, such as canon/canonisation within the different fields, along with entry groups like actors, dancers, musicians etc. Also, genres and forms within each field are established as separate categories. Certain common issues (i.e. amateurs, audiences, popular entertainment, aesthetics, classics, marginalisation) are given as main entries – supported by cross references to the main categories. Note: Please note that page numbers in bold refer to tables. Entries in notes are marked like this: ‘120n23’ (referring to endnote 23 found on page 120). absolutism: absolutist rule 220; state patriotism 220 academia see also dance studies; musicology; theatre studies; its role in canonisation processes 1, 200, 256 Académie française (Paris) 258–​9, 266 Académie royale de danse (Paris) 44 actors/​acting 76, 190, 228, 235, 239; see also amateurs: amateur actors/​ performers; female actors/​performers 156–​8, 166–​7, 218–​19; physiognomy and acting 188; semi-​professional actors 103, 217–​19, 221, 228; stock characters (soubrette) 219; technical demands 190 aesthetics: aesthetics of professionalism 74; baroque aesthetics (music as craft) 240; breach of good taste 208, 213 (see also audiences); change of aesthetic ideals 266; classicist aesthetics (see classicism); ideal of natural simplicity and sentimentality 242–​3; idealist aesthetics (see idealism (aesthetics)); matters of taste 212–​13 (see also audiences); moral aspects 211, 213, 220; pre-​romantic aesthetics 240; Singspiel aesthetics 230 amateur theatres see theatre (in general)

amateurs 25, 58, 75–​77, 113, 215, 228, 240; amateur actors/​performers 76, 77, 104, 217–​21; amateur composers 227–​8, 236, 238–​41, 243–​4; amateur market 234; amateur musicians 22, 27, 235, 238–​40; amateur singers 218; child performers 217; female actors/​ performers 115; performing together with professionals 103, 215, 217, 219, 221 Ambigu-​Comique (Paris)  178 Ancien Régime 46, 56–​57 Aristotle 12 Astley’s Amphitheatre (London) 177, 180, 182 audiences 68–​69, 72, 74, 79, 176, 181–​2; blurring of social and cultural divide 217–​19, 221; bourgeois audiences (see bourgeoisie); changing preferences and habits 256; composition of audiences 260–​1; condemnation of audiences’ taste 69, 73, 75; multinational audiences 183; preferring light repertories over ‘classics’ 253–​4; reception of plays 207, 213–​14, 220–​2; situated reception 217, 219; tastes and preferences 206, 213, 221 (see also aesthetics)

272  General index Bildung 92 Bland’s Collection 24–​26, 34 Det borgerlige dramatiske Selskab (The Bourgeois Dramatic Society) (Oslo) 262 bourgeoisie:bourgeois audiences 221, 228; bourgeois conventions and morals 67, 69–​70, 212–​13, 221; bourgeois identity 220; bourgeois society 210, 214, 218; opposition to bourgeois morals (Kotzebue) 69–​72, 78, 80; social mobility 217–​19 British Licensing Act (1737) 176, 182 canon/​canonisation in dance 43–​44, 49; bodily ideals 13; canonisation of belle danse style 43–​46; dance hierarchy 49; minuet as canon 43, 57 (see also dance genres and forms:minuet); as point of reference 52, 56, 59; as theoretical construction 43 canon/​canonisation (in general) 1, 43, 118–​19, 251, 266; see also canon/​ canonisation in music and opera; canon/​canonisation in theatre; canon/​ canonisation in dance; classics; canon and cultural identity 2; canon as idea (Kerman) 5; canon as repertory 4–​5, 9, 16; canon before canon 3; canonical narratives 102–​4, 115, 118–​19; contextual relevance 16, 22–​23, 32, 71, 118, 207, 214, 220–​2, 251, 253; different types of canon 2–​3; disciplinary canon (Kerman) 5, 9; literary canon 1, 206–​7, 222; market mechanisms 4; nation building 2, 16 (see also nationalism); professional/​commercial networks 5, 10; research on canonisation processes 2 (see also musicology; dance studies; theatre studies); the role of ‘classics’ in canonisation processes 241, 253 (see also classics); the role of performers in canonisation processes 4; teaching, its dependence on canon 4; teaching, its role in canon building 4; timelessness 253 canon/​canonisation in music and opera 43, 228, 241–​2, 244; between production and reception 7; canon as exemplary practices 7; canon representing absolute music 240, 242, 244; canonic composers 4, 24–​25, 27, 34; collections for private use

22–​24, 32, 34; concert series 23–​24; hierarchy of genres 26, 241, 244; as idea of classics 241, 243–​4; ideals of Viennese classicism 243–​4; institutional preconditions 4; instruction manuals 22, 25–​26, 34; nation building (see nationalism); national repertory 192; national repertory (Italy) 190–​1; pedagogical canon (Weber) 6; performing canon (Weber) 6, 22; popular music 23, 25–​26, 28–​33; popularity as a basis for canon 13; pre-​canon 102, 114; private performances 23; professional/​ commercial networks 13; repertory for amateurs 22 (see also amateurs); repertory on musical clocks (see musical clocks); repertory supported by the nobility 23; repertory targeting women 22–​23, 25, 28, 34; reprints as marketing strategy 24; scholarly canon (Weber) 6; superiority of instrumental music 241; technical demands 33 canon/​canonisation in theatre 74, 81, 206, 251, 256–​66; canon as repertory 11–​12; canonic playwrights 189, 191, 208–​9, 221–​2, 251; German canon 66–​7, 80; nation building 14 (see nationalism); the need to historicise canon 257; the need to historicise the classics 17, 253; negative canonisation (Kotzebue) 67–​68, 80 (see also marginalisation); popularity (Kotzebue) 66, 77–​78; popularity as criterion of exclusion (Kotzebue) 14 (see also marginalisation); pre-​canon 206; relevance of plays 207, 214, 221–​2; repertory 206–​7, 213, 220–​1, 228 Casino Teatret (Copenhagen) 261, 264 choreographers see dancers/​dancing Christiania Norske Theater (Oslo) 252, 255–​65 passim Christiania Theater (Oslo) 229, 239, 252–​61 passim, 265 Cirque Équestre (Paris) 177 classical dramaturgy 11–​12; see also theatrical genres and forms; Aristotelian rules 74; five acts 192; the three unities 190 classicism 2, 11–​12, 78, 191; see also classics; classical dramaturgy; ideals of Viennese classicism 243–​4; neo-​classicism  189 classics 3, 9, 11–​12, 17, 33, 221, 241, 251, 253, 257–​8; see also classicism; the

General index  273 need to historicise the classics 253; as standard and model 253 composers see under musicians cosmopolitan (Kotzebue) 68, 79 critics/​criticism 26, 32, 34, 206, 208, 252, 255, 258; aesthetic criticism 68, 73, 75; its role in canonisation processes 1, 4, 8; literary criticism 68; moral criticism 68–​9, 71–​2; political criticism 68, 78; reception history 228 dance (in general) 43, 45; assemblée 53; ballroom dance 90–​91, 94; balls 53, 89, 91–​92, 98, 104, 110, 116; Beauchamps-​ Feuillet notation 44, 46, 48, 50; belle danse as a tool to learn social skills (see dancers/​dancing); bodily posture and behaviour 45–​46, 56, 95; bows, curtsies, and manners 91–​93, 95–​96, 116; choreography 44–​46, 48, 50–​51, 54, 59; dance and social life 87, 98; dance as art 44; dance books 87–​91, 95, 97–​98, 111–​ 12, 116 (see also dancers/​dancing); dance classes and lessons 57, 88–​97 passim (see also dancers/​dancing); dance codification 44; dance collections 89, 97–​98; dance descriptions 97; dance fashion 97, 117; dance in military education 94; dance methods (see dancers/​dancing); dance repertory 87–​88, 90, 92, 94, 97; dance technique 45, 46, 91–​92; dance theories and treatises 45, 46, 48, 51–​52, 57, 59; dance–​music relationship 44, 46, 57; democratisation of dance 116; European etiquette as ideal 94; as expression of social status 94; gender differences 87, 93, 97; as part of bourgeois social life 242; revival of baroque dance 58; rules of etiquette 47, 87, 92–​93, 97, 116–​17; social dance 87, 97, 103–​4, 110, 116–​18; as social, moral, and physical education 47, 91, 95; solo dance 54; theatrical dance 54; traditional dances 117 dance genres and forms: allemande 116; anglaise 90; belle danse style 43–​46, 56, 58, 59; belle danse style (floor patterns and figures) 44–​46; belle danse style (movements and steps) 44–​46; body and foot positioning 92; bourrée 48, 50; chaconne 46; contredanse 90; country dance 88–​92, 98, 112, 116–​17; couple dances 53–​54, 89–​91, 112, 116–​17;

courante 46, 48; dance in operas 236; dance tempo 52; en-​dehors (outward) positions 45; English country dances 89–​90; English dances 89, 92, 96, 237; feiar 111; five positions 96; floor patterns and figures 89–​90, 92, 94, 116; folk dance 232; forlane 50; French eighteenth-​century technique 90; gallopade 117; gavotte 57; gigue 46, 48, 50; halling 111; hopser 111; hornpipe 46; jig 111; kontradans 90; ladder dance 158; langue-​dands 116; lapponoise 111; longways country dances 107, 110–​12, 116; loure 46; mélanges (extracts from theatrical pieces) 54; menuet figuré 54, 91–​92; menuet ordinaire 48, 54, 91–​92; minuet 43, 47–​59, 88–​98 passim, 116; minuet as aristocratic dance 91; minuet as couple dance 53; minuet as educational dance 91, 98; minuet as ideal dance 56; minuet as social dance 49, 53, 56; minuet, various canonic forms 52, 54, 59; minuet (floor patterns and figures) 48, 53–​54; minuet, its social and moral functions 47; minuet (movements and steps) 48–​52, 54–​55, 57, 91, 96; minuet on stage 50; minuet, re-​canonisation of 57; minuet (rules and formal specifications) 48–​49, 51, 53; minuet (theoretical definitions) 43; minuet, the reception of 59; movements and steps (all dances) 89–​ 92, 94, 96, 111–​12, 116; musette 46, 48; pas de bourrée 46, 50; passacaille 46, 48, 50; passepied 50, 52; pols 107, 111, 117; quadrille 90, 116; reel 111–​12; rigaudon 50; rounds 89–​91; sarabande 46, 48, 50; Schwäbisch (Ländler/​Deutscher) 112, 117, 118; Scottish dance 116; slack wire dancing 163; waltz 91–​92, 96, 110–​11, 116–​18; wire and rope dancing 168 dance studies 51–​53, 117; dance theoreticians 48; deconstructing canon in dance 9–​10; history of dance 45, 58–​59; its role in canonisation processes 9; re-​evaluation of female dancers 156, 169; research on female, itinerant artists 156–​8, 160–​2, 166–​7, 169; sources regarding female dancers 156–​8 dancers/​dancing 44–​48, 52, 58, 87, 94, 156; amateur dancers 45; choreographers 44, 54; classical dancing 95; couples in rows/​squares

274  General index 90; dance exercises 96; dance practice 87, 89, 95, 97, 111; dance teachers/​ teaching 44–​45, 56–​57, 87, 88, 91–​97, 116–​17; dance theoreticians 44, 48, 50 (see also dance studies); dancers mixing genres 117; dancing masters 44, 87, 88, 91–​98, 103, 116–​18; female dancers 156; female dancers as company leaders 163, 165–​7; female dancers as dance teachers 162–​4, 168; female dancers with additional occupations 164; female dancers with several roles 162; honnête homme 45; mixing of social groups in dance 117; professional dancers 45; social function of dancing 52–​54; subject to moral prejudices 165; theatrical dancing 54 dilettantes/​dilettantism 76, 227, 239–​40, 244; see also amateurs; as aristocratic and bourgeois ideal 240; critique of (Goethe and Schiller) 75–​76, 240 Dobney’s Bowling Green (London) 176, 183 Det dramatiske Selskab (The Dramatic Society) (Oslo) 214, 229, 262 Enlightenment, the Age of 68, 220, 261; ideas of education 67, 71, 75, 78, 80; thinkers 72 Equestrian drama see popular entertainment; pantomime French Revolution 56, 72, 91 Det forenede dramatiske Selskab (The United Dramatic Society) (Trondheim) 103, 110, 115, 215, 217–​18, 221, 228, 265 Gautier & Co 178–​81 German Federation (Deutscher Bund) 66 hippodrama see popular entertainment:equestrian drama idealism (aesthetics) 67, 73–​75, 78–​79; aesthetic and unaesthetic experiences 73–​74; German idealism 67, 72; Kotzebue’s rejection of aesthetic idealism 73; Kotzebue’s rejection of high art 74; rules and norms 77; ‘serious’ vs. ‘light’ art 74; a theory of true, autonomous art 73–​74, 77 informal cultural activities 102–​8, 113–​15, 118, 213–​14, 220; manuscript

sources 103, 105, 107, 114–​15, 117–​19, 214; women’s activities 115 itinerant artists/​g roups 103, 156, 177, 217; see also popular entertainment; artists with additional occupations 164; familial/​marital circumstances 160; female artists 156; subject to strict regulations 166, 167; travelling companies 104, 178–​81 Det kongelige musikalske Akademi (The Royal Musical Academy) (Copenhagen) 238 Det Kongelige Teater (The Royal Theatre) (Copenhagen) 206–​9, 211–​14, 217–​28 passim, 239, 252 literary studies: criteria of valuable literature 67; German literary history 67; Kotzebue reception 67–​8; non-​ valuable literature 67; London Piano School 24, 27, 35 marginalisation 1, 14, 80, 188, 228, 241, 244, 266; of composers 228; due to academia’s devaluation 200; due to aesthetic ideals 16, 24, 170; due to censorship 206–​7, 222; due to devaluation of popular tastes 114–​15, 170, 253; due to hybridity 170; due to lack of popularity (theatre) 15; due to limited dissemination 16; of equestrian drama 182; of female composers 5; gender as factor of exclusion 15; invisibility of women 15, 115, 118; of “light” genres (theatre) 251; literary devaluation 67, 78; of informal cultural activities 103, 114; related to social circumstances 14, 16 music (in general) 43; aesthetic hierarchy 115; anonymous music 102, 110, 113–​14, 118; benefit concerts 208; bourgeois concert life 241; concerts 208, 236; dance music 238–​9, 242, 244; development of concert life 238; educational music 237; hymn books 142–​6; ideal of versatility 240; melodies changing 104, 109–​10, 113–​14; melodies migrating 114; music as art 240, 244; music books 103–​18 passim; music in private homes 104 (see also amateurs); musical clock repertory 129 (see also musical clocks); musical education 238; musical education for

General index  275 women 108, 115, 118; musical societies (exclusion of women) 115; musical societies (Trondheim) 102–​4, 115, 218, 237, 238, 240; occasional music 236–7, 239–​41; orchestration (classicist orchestra) 232; orchestration (strings) 232; orchestration (winds) 232, 243; private playlist 128, 146; romantic ideals of autonomous music 240; simplicity as an ideal 115; singing school 236, 239; song books 108, 114–​15, 118, 146, 214; theatre music 207, 214–​15, 217, 220, 236; traditional music 104, 114; traditional music versus art music 104; vocal church music 236 musical clocks 128–​47 passim; assembly songs 142, 146; astronomical clocks 130; autodidact clockmakers 137; automaton clocks 130; carillon bracket clocks 132–​3, 135, 138, 145; carillon clockmakers 135, 137; carillon clocks 129–​31, 132–4, 135–​6, 144–​7; carillon longcase clocks 132–​4, 135, 145; chiming clocks 129–​30, 147; clockmakers 129, 131, 137, 144–​5; clockwork aesthetics 128; clockworks 136–​9, 143; cuckoo clocks 136, 144; cuckoo longcase clocks 132–​3; definition of 128, 130; diurnal cycle of hymns 142, 144, 145–​6; dulcimer clocks 130, 132, 136; dulcimer longcase clocks 132; European clockmaking centres 137; folk songs 147; Graboe carillon longcase clock 139; hymns 135–​6, 140–​7; hymns (psalms of David) 147; idiomatic clock repertory 128–​9; local production of clocks 131, 135, 137–​8; longcase clocks 131, 132–4, 135–6, 139, 145–7; mechanical systems 128, 130, 137, 143; melody titles 129, 131, 139–​40, 142–​4; music programmation systems 130, 137–​8; musical clock repertory 128–​9, 138, 146; musical clock tradition (Norway) 129; organ clockmakers 129, 135, 137; organ clocks 132–4, 128–​30, 136–​7, 147; organ longcase clocks 132–​4; patriotic songs 141–​2; popular clock repertory 129; repertory changes 146; repertory in carillon clocks 128; repertory in organ musical clocks 128–​9; Schwarzwalder clocks 136; sounding parts 130, 137; technology 130, 136

musical genres and forms: ABAʹ form 234; air 108–​10, 114; allegro 109, 114; andante 110; anonymous songs 108; anti-​war songs 109, 115; arrangements 22, 25; baroque dance suites 46; battle piece 32; cantata 238–​9, 241, 244; chamber music 102; chorus 24; concerto 24, 30, 31–​32, 241; country dance (music) 117; dance tunes 109–​10, 114–​15, 215; drinking songs 108, 146; duets 30, 232–​3, 239; folk songs 231–​2; galant and sentimental style 240, 243; halling (music) 108; hymns 109; longways country dance (music) 109–​11; march 109–​12; melodies (Eberg) 236; minuet (music) 25, 28, 109–​10, 114, 116; murky 114, 116; musette 114; oratorium 33; orchestral music 102; overture 25, 30, 229, 241–​2; patriotic songs 108–​10, 115; piano arrangements of opera arias, popular airs and songs 26, 29, 30, 32; polonaise 28, 109, 116; pols 107–​8, 111–​12, 117; popular tunes 15; prelude 34; prologue 229; reel (music) 111; rondo 28, 32, 110; scherzo 52; Schwäbisch 112, 117–​18; secular songs 142, 145–​7; singing game 231; Singspiel songs 108, 214; sonata form and technique 243; sonata/​sonatine 22, 24–​27, 30, 32, 34, 116; songs 24, 28, 32–​34, 107, 109, 141, 143, 145, 239, 244; string quartet 238, 241–​2, 244; symmetrical phrases 234, 236; symphony 25, 238, 241–​2, 244; traditional songs 213; variations 22, 28, 29, 33; waltz (music) 110 musicians 103–​4, 110, 221, 230; see also amateurs:amateur composers; actor-​singers 218–​19; apprentices 110; cantors 235–​6; composers 110, 113–​14, 208, 215, 220, 227–​8, 238–​9, 244 (see also amateurs:amateur composers); dance musicians 117; music as a paid profession 239–​40; music teachers 235–​6, 239; organists 109–​10, 235; song teachers 236, 239; theatre musicians 208, 215, 217; town musicians 110, 215, 217, 227–​8, 235–​6, 240–​1; women as accomplished musicians 116 Det musicalske Lyceum (The Musical Lyceum) (Oslo) 229, 238–​9

276  General index musicology: deconstructing canon in music 8; musicologists 48; Norwegian music historiography 102–​3, 113, 228–​44 passim; promoting new canons 8; promoting popular music 8; the role of musicology in canonisation processes 4, 7–​8 nationalism 79, 80; see also music (in general); dance (in general); theatre (in general); folk music influence 243–​4; German nationalism 66–​8, 78–​80; German student movements 66, 68, 79–​80; nation state 78; national character 78–​79; national habits (Nationalsitten) 78; Norwegian identity 220–​1; Norwegian national romanticism 243–​4; Norwegian nationalism 219 Det norske Theater (Bergen) 252–​5, 259–​60, 264 Det offentlige Theater (The Public Theatre) (Trondheim) 103, 106, 217–​18, 220–​1, 228 opera (in general):benefit performances 228; repertory 230; scenic productions 234; scores 229; stage directions 230 operatic genres and forms: aria 28, 34, 241; chorus 230–​2, 236; comic opera 26, 32; dialogue and metre 211, 230–​1; duets 230–​1; finale (with chorus and dance) 210, 215, 230; folk songs 210; galant and sentimental style 230; libretti 208, 228; lyrical opera 192; opera 32–​33, 192; opéra-​comique 228, 230, 232, 241, 243–​4; overture 215, 230; prologue 215, 220; Singspiel 16, 105–​6, 108, 206–​8, 210–​12, 215, 220–​49 passim, 257; Singspiel songs 108, 214; songs 108, 230–​1, 236, 238, 241; symmetrical phrases 232; trios 230; vaudeville 209; vocal ensemble 230, 237 orchestra see music (in general):orchestration pantomime 168, 178, 210; see also popular entertainment; comical pantomime 178; equestrian pantomime 177–​80; equestrian pantomime as news report 177; equestrian pantomime as re-​enactment 180; historical (grand) pantomime 179–​80; historical pantomime with horses 178

physiognomy 188, 194, 198–​200; see also actors/​acting; as an intellectual movement (Italy) 199; Lavater’s theory 188, 194, 198; supporting melodrama 194; supporting moral dichotomies 194; supporting predestination 198 pietism (Denmark–​Norway)  142 playwrights 66, 75, 79, 107, 178–​88, 206, 210, 212, 215, 221, 252, 257–​9 political repression and censorship 66, 80 popular entertainment 15, 156, 175; acrobatics and circus feats 160, 163, 168, 178; acting 178; action and spectacle 182; circus (invention of) 175; combination of circus arena and stage 175; comical riding scenes 177–​9; dancing 178; displays of trick riding 176–​8; equestrian drama 175–​82; equestrian drama as melodrama 175; equestrian drama as news report 179–​80, 183; equestrian drama, preconditions for 176; equestrian drama as re-​enactment 180, 183; equestrian drama as trans-​European popular repertory 182; equestrian drama,variety of genres 177; equestrian military drama 179–​80, 182; fairground entertainment 176–​7; farce 210; fencing 178; Gautier posters/​playbills as sources 178–​9, 182; ‘horse comedies’ 179; horsemanship 176, 178, 182; horses as performers 175; hybridity 15; pantomimes (see pantomime); riding masters 175–​8; rope dancing 178; sideshow 178; subject to strict regulations 165, 167 popularity 7, 15, 24–​25, 30; see also popular entertainment popularity as a basis for canon see canon/​ canonisation (in general) and under each discipline De Preussiske Kunstnerinder 156, 168–​9 professions/​professionalism 74, 239–​240; see also actors/​acting; dancers/​dancing; musicians querelle des anciens et des modernes 32 repertory see canon/​canonisation (in general) and under each discipline Risorgimento 191 romanticism 210–​11, 213, 221, 240–​1; aesthetics of absolute art 240; devaluation of functional music 242;

General index  277 frivolity as ideal 211–​13, 219, 221–​2; romanticism (the epoch) 211, 258 Royal Circus (London) 175, 177 Singspiel see operatic genres and forms society of orders (three estates) 94 Southwark Fair 176 spectators see audiences St. Bartholomew’s Fair 176 stage directions 230–​1 stage directors: Ibsen as director 251–​2 The Young Lady’s Book 28, 31 theatre (in general): aesthetics of professionalism (theatre) 74; amateur theatres 67, 75–​77, 228; amateur theatre, Reval (Tallin) 69, 77; audiences 77 (see also audiences); benefit performances 208, 217, 221; bourgeois theatre culture 77, 228 (see also bourgeosie); censorship 206–​8, 212–​14, 220–​1; court theatre (Mannheim) 66; dramatic societies 206, 217, 219–​20, 227–​40 passim, 261–​2, 265; dramatic societies 229, 239 (Oslo) 214, 262; dramatic societies (Trondheim) 103–​4, 215, 217–​18, 221, 228, 236, 265; as entertainment 74, 77, 177; German theatres 66, 71, 75, 80; international success (Kotzebue) 68; national German theatre (see nationalism); national theatre (Mannheim) 66; national theatres 12–​13, 78–​79, 265; nationalism 259 (see also nationalism); patent theatres 181; people’s theatre 261; popularity 77; private theatres 76–​77, 104; private theatre, Reval (Tallin) 75; professional theatres 67, 77; professionalism 256 (see also professions/​professionalism); provincial theatre (Odense) 217, 220; provincial theatre (Oslo) 214–​15; provincial theatre (Trondheim) 207, 214, 217–​18, 220; provincial theatres 206–​7, 213, 215, 219–​21; public theatres 103, 228–​9, 239; public theatres (Copenhagen) 206, 209; public theatres (Trondheim) 217; romantic theatre 182 (see also romanticism); as self-​education 75, 78, 261; semi-​ public theatrical performances 228; stage directions 230; staging of conflicts 71–​72; theatre as art 74, 77;

theatre in stately homes 104; theatre music 207, 214–​15, 217, 220; theatre privileges 167 theatre directors:Ibsen as director 252, 255, 261 theatre managers 208, 211, 218, 258; Ibsen as manager 251–​2, 257, 260 theatre studies: Ibsen studies 251–​6, 260; Ibsen studies (revising older positions) 253, 255, 257; its role in canonisation processes 251; Kotzebue reception 67–​8; Norwegian theatre history 229; re-​evaluating marginalised repertory 253; registers of theatrical performances (Christiania) 229; theatre reforms 12–​14 theatrical genres and forms 12; blank verse 190, 211; bourgeois drama 193, 206, 212, 221; Bürgerliches Trauerspiel 188; classical comedy 210; ‘closed room’ decoration as standard 258; comédie larmoyante 188; comedy 106–​7, 188–​9, 191, 206, 221, 251, 254, 256–​7; dialogue and metre 211; drame bourgeois 188; exotic style 180; fairytale drama 251; farce 210, 251, 255–​7; gothic style 180–​2; horse ballet (carousel) 175; hybrid genres 15, 176, 182; Lustspiel 208, 215, 227, 229–​30, 234; melodrama 188, 193–​4; occasional drama 220; one-​act play 77; operetta 261; pantomime 210 (see also pantomime); pastoral comedy 210; prologue 107; reflecting new stage technology 254; romantic theatre styles 180 (see also romanticism); Rührstück 188; satire 70, 72, 76; sentimental comedy 193; Singspiel 257; stage directions 211; tramelogedia Abéle (by Alfieri) 189, 191–​2, 194; tragedy 188–​91, 200, 251, 254; tramelogedia 16, 188–​200 passim; tramelogedia and music 192, 194; tramelogedia as melodrama 193–​4; Trauerspiel 220; vaudeville 251, 256–​9, 261; ‘well-​made play’ as model 258 Three Hats (London) 176, 183 travelling artists/​groups see itinerant artists/​g roups trivial music see canon/​canonisation in music; opera:popular music Vagrancy Act (1824) 176

Person index

Note: Please note that page numbers in bold refer to tables. Entries in notes are marked like this: ‘120n23’ (referring to endnote 23 found on page 120). Acland, Lydia 23, 31, 33 Acland, Lydia Dorothea 33 Adams, Thomas  34 Agrell, Johan 25 Aksdal, Bjørn 104–​5 Alfieri,Vittorio 16, 188–​90, 198–​9 Alighieri, Dante 200 Allingham, Mary Ann 114–​15 Allingham,William 105–​22 passim, 214, 220 Ancelot, Jacques 259 Andersen, Anette Storli 255–​6, 261, 265 Andersen, Hans Christian 252, 258 Andresen, Nicolai 262 Anker, Bernt 88 Anker, Øyvind 229, 259, 261–​2 Anz, Thomas  2 Appleton, Elizabeth 27, 30–​31 Arbeau, Thoinot  46 Ariosto, Ludovico 189 Aristotle 12 Arne, Thomas 25, 26, 30 Arnold, Samuel 23 Astley, Philip 175–​8, 181 Augier, Émile 259 Aune, Herman 131 Austen, Jane 31, 220 Avison, Charles 26 Bach, Carl Philipp Emanuel 128 Bach, Christoph de 178 Bach, Johann Christian 24, 26, 30 Bach, Johann Sebastian 28 Bacon, Richard Mackenzie 32 Bahrdt, Carl Friedrich 72 Baillie, Alexander 111 Baillie, Joanna 188 Bales, Melanie 9

Balon, Claude 44n3 Bang, Anton Christian 131, 138 Bates, Jacob 177 Beauchamps, Pierre 44, 94 Beaumarchais, Pierre 221 Beck, Michael Peter 136 Beethoven, Ludwig van 27, 30, 32–​34, 128, 241 Bellman, Carl Michael 142n65 Bemetzrieder, Anton 22n1 Benda, Friedrich 128n2 Benda, Georg 194n41 Beneke,Victoria  166 Berg, Andreas 217, 219, 228 Berg, Arno 131 Berg, Morten 110 Berg, Thoralf  104 Berg, Ulf Steinar 104 Berger, Karol 7, 8 Berlin, Johan Daniel 104, 110, 113, 116 Berlin, Johan Henrich 104, 113 Bierche, Jacob Larsen 133 Biercke, Christen 133 Biering, Captain 107, 111 Bierke, Peder Larsen 133 Billington, Thomas  25 Bjerke, Ole Christiansen 133 Bjerregaard, Henrik Anker 259 Bjørnson, Bjørnstjerne 257–​8, 263 Blachestad, Ellef Ellingsen 131 Blackstad, Erlend Ellefsen 132, 137 Bland, John 24, 34 Blessing, Mathias 131, 133 Blicher, Steen Steensen 112, 117 Bloom, Harold 1, 253 Borch, Matthias 110 Borin, Mr. 46

Person index 279 Brandes, Johann Christian 194 Brooks, Lynn Matluck 15, 156–​8, 169 Brorson, Hans Adolph 142–​3, 145–​6 Bruguier, David 33 Brun, Johan Nordahl 105, 108, 110, 142, 146 Bruun, Carl 163 Braastad, John Thordsen 133, 137n40 Braaten, Amund Fenstad 132 Braaten, Ole Amundsen 137 Braaten, Ole Nielsen 132 Buchner, Alexandr 128 Bull, Francis 251, 253 Bull, Ole 252 Burney, Charles 25 Burrowes, John Freckleton 33 Burton, John 26 Buschmann, Johann 112 Buschmann, Peter Thams  112 Byron, Lord (George Gordon Byron) 105n23, 180, 199 Bøgh, Erik 261, 263–​4 Calderón de la Barca, Pedro 254 Camidge, John 25 Campra, André 33 Canova, Antonio 199 Carter, Thomas  25 Castiglione, Baldassare 240 Cave, Penelope 13 Cesarotti, Melchiorre 199 Chappell, Samuel 28 Charles, Louis-​Caigniez  194 Charlier, Robert 1 Charlotte, Queen 23 Chassiron, Pierre-​Mathieu de 193 Chesterfield, Lord (Philip Dormer Stanhope) 94 Christensen, Thomas  33 Citron, Marcia 5–​6, 9, 10 Clementi, Muzio 24, 27, 30, 32, 34 Cocchi, Gioacchino 26 Compan, Charles 48 Corelli, Arcangelo 25, 27, 30 Corri, Philip Antony 29 Couperin, François 27 Cramer, Johann Baptist 27–​28, 29, 30, 34 Cuvelier, Jean-​Guillaume-​Antoine 178, 181 Dahlback, Karl 104, 114n76 Dalaker, Ingrid Loe 104 Dalen, John 134 Dance, William  29

Dass, Petter 143, 146 de Staël, Madame (Anne Louise Germaine de Staël-​Holstein) 199 Delany, Mary 23 Denon, Dominique Vivant  199 Dibdin, Charles 175 Diderot, Denis 193 Dietz, Joseph 26 Dingstad, Ståle 255 Disher, Maurice Willson  176 Dodds, Sherril 10 Ducange,Victor Henri-​Joseph Brahain 194 Ducrow, Anthony 182 Dufort, Giambatista 48 Dumas, Alexandre (père) 254 Dumoulin, David 44 Dumoulin, François 44 Dumoulin, Henry 44 Dussek, Jan Ladislav 24, 27–​28, 30, 34 Eberg, Peter 110, 215, 217, 227–​41 passim, 244 Echen, Knud Larsen 133, 136–​8, 144–​5 Eckenberg, Johann Carl (husband of Cornelia Eckenbergin) 167 Eckenbergin, Cornelia 167 Edelmann, Jean-​Frédéric  26 Egeberg, Westye  263 Egerton, Charlotte 28 Egerton, Elizabeth 23, 28, 33 Eggan, Trond Ingebrigtsen  134 Eichendorff, Joseph von 69 Eliot, Karen 9 Ender (Endresen), Hans Christian 132 Engebretsen, Edv. 132 Engelstad, Sigurd 131 Enger, Amund Andersen 132 Enger, Knud Olsen 132 Everist, Mark 241 Ewald, Johannes 211 Falbe, Hans Hagerup 215, 227–​44 passim Falsen, Enevold de 105 Federhofer, Marie-​Theres  240 Felton, William  25 Fenstad, Amund Olsen 136 Figueiredo, Ivo de 256 Fischer-​Lichte, Erika  12 Fiskvik, Anne Margrete 15, 156 Fitzwilliam, Lord (Earl of Sandwich) 23 Flodmark, Johan 163 Flaata, Lars Stensen 133 Foersom, Peter Thun  210 Folde, Ole Gunnar 131n13

280  Person index Foscolo, Ugo 188, 191, 199 Franconi, Antonio 178 Frankenau, Rasmus 109 Friedrich II, King of Prussia 26, 34 Frogner, Thomas  132 Frølich, Fritz 263 Fulsås, Narve 255–​6 Gallini, Giovanni-​Andrea 50, 168 Garth, John 26 Gatland, Jan Olav 253, 254, 257 Gellert, Christian Fürchtegott 193 George III, King 23 Giordani, Tommaso  26 Gjerdrum, Jørgen 262 Gjervan, Ellen Karoline 15, 175, 255 Gladsø, Svein 1, 220 Glærum, Marit Sivertsdatter 142n69 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 11, 66, 75–​77, 109, 188, 199, 240 Gorset, Hans Olav 104, 114n76 Gottschall, Rudolf von 68 Gottsched, Johann Christoph 12 Graboe, Ingebrigt 134, 138–​40, 141, 142, 143, 144–​6 Graeff, John Goorge 29 Graf, Rudi 12 Grantley, Darryll 193 Granøien, Lars Olsen 134, 135, 137 Graun, Carl Heinrich 128n2 Graupner, Christoph 27 Grétry, André 26 Griffin, George Eugen 29, 30 Grinde, Nils 244, 248 Grundt, Otto Jacob 236 Grüner-​Nielsen, Hakon  117 Grunt, Lars 107 Grønli, Hans O. 131 Guillot, Marie-​Catherine  44 Hagerup, Christian Frederick 111 Hagerup, Eiler 111 Haigh, Thomas  29 Hamilton, Sir William  199 Hammerstad, Ole Pedersen 133 Händel, Georg Friedrich 13, 22–​24, 26–​28, 30, 34 Hänsel, Christoph Gottfried 48 Hansen, H. A. 132 Harboe, Ludvig 146 Hassell, Peder 116 Hauch, Adam Wilhelm 208, 211 Hauch, Carsten 87–​88, 95–​98

Haydn, Joseph 25–​26, 28, 30, 31, 33–​34, 52, 128–​9 Heiberg, Johan Ludvig 252, 258, 261 Heiberg, Johanne Louise 252, 258 Heiberg, Peter Andreas 105 Hentschel, Peter 7–​8 Hernes, Asbjørn 104, 124 Hervig, Ole 134 Hesselberg, Adam 263 Heßelmann, Peter 12 Hirn, Sven 157 Hjelm, Claus Winter  263 Hoare, Henry 23 Hocker, Jörgen 147 Holberg, Ludvig 105, 251, 253–​4 Holcroft, Thomas 188, 194 Hook, James 26 Hoppu, Petri 10 Horn, Hans Iver 211n22, 215, 220 Hornemann, Johan Lebrecht 103–​6, 113, 215, 234–​6 Hostrup, Jens Christian 257, 258 Hov, Eva 14, 102, 237 Hughes, Charles 175 Huitfeldt, Henrik Jørgen 88, 103, 103n6 Huldt-​Nystrøm, Hampus 104, 236nn35–​36 Humboldt, Alexander von 199 Humboldt, Wilhelm von  73–​74 Hummel, Johann Nepomuk 34 Hveding, Johan Andreas 109, 112, 114, 117 Hyam (riding master) 177 Høegh-​Guldberg, Ove  146 Haagaa, Jo 133, 137n40 Haakonsen, Daniel 251–​3, 256 Haavelsen, Halvor 132 Ibsen, Henrik 17, 251–​6, 259–​61, 263–​7 Ibsen, Lars Møller 227–​41 passim, 244 Iffland, August Wilhelm 12, 66, 254 Ilsaas, Knud Tollefsen  133 Ingstad, Kaare 131 Ingstad, Olav 131, 132, 136–​8, 144–​5 Jacobsen, Hans Hinrich 110 Jensen, Peter Andreas 259 Jensson, Liv 104, 115n81 Johannsen, Sarah Marie 105, 108, 115, 118 Johansen, Unni B. 104 Johnson, Thomas  176 Jousse, Jean 22n1

Person index 281 Just, Johann August 25 Jørgensen, Aage 208 Kalkbrenner, Friedrich 32–​33 Kaltenbach, Johan 136 Karl III Johan 215 Katritzky, Margaret A. 157, 160, 162, 164, 166–​7 Kerman, Joseph 4–​6, 9 Kildal, Peter Wessel Wind  263 Kingo, Thomas  142–​6 Kirchhoff, Gottfried 114 Kiss, Dóra 13, 43 Kleiser, Heinrich 132, 136 Klüwer, Lorentz Diderich 107 Knap, Johan 131, 138 Knigge, Adolph 72 Knobbe, Nicolaj 137 Knudsen, Knud 255, 262, 264–​5 Knudtzon, Broder 105 Knudtzon, Hans Carl 105 Knudtzon, Jørgen 105, 111 Koht, Halvdan 251, 253, 255–​6 Kosenina, Alexander 70 Kotzebue, August von 12, 66–​86 passim, 105, 188, 194, 212, 220 Kotzwara, Frantisek 32 Kozeluch, Leopold 25, 30, 31 Krebs, Roland 13 Krouthén, Mats 14, 128 Kunzen, Friedrich Ludwig Æmilius 105, 239 Kurkela,Vesa  8, 10 Kaastrup, Poul J. 95 Laakkonen, Johanna 9, 10 L’Abbé, Antony 54, 57 Labiche, Eugène 259 Lafontaine, W.  105 Laing, Samuel 117 Lancelot, Francine 58 Landsend, Erland 133, 137n40 Langland, Børre Hansen 131, 134, 136–​7, 144–​5 Lanzendörfer, Anselma 6–​7 Lassen, Hartvig 262 Latour, Francis Tatton  29 Latour, Theodore 29, 30, 32–​33 Lavater, Johann Caspar 188, 198–​9 Le Roussau, François 54 Lefeber-​Morsman, Marieke 129, 147 Leich, Peder Pedersen 132, 137n40

Leich, Torgeir Hansen 133, 137n40, 144, 145 Lempa, Heikki 91–​92, 94 Leopardi, Giacomo 191 Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim 13, 81, 188, 221 Lie, Mons (the elder) 218 Lie, Mons (the younger) 217–​18, 221 Lien, Erland 133, 137 Lindeman, Ole Andreas 104 Linley, Thomas  26 Linneberg, Arild 256 Lottes, Günther 1 Louis XIV 44 Lully, Jean-​Baptiste  44 Lund, Audhild 260 Lund, Christopher Larsen 132, 135–​7 Lund, Jørgen Gad 93 Lustre, Jean 178 Luther, Martin 79, 145 Luytkis, Hans Hagerup 105–​6 Mackensen, Wilhelm Friedrich August  78 Magdalene Schnitler 121 Magny, Claude-​Marc  50–​51 Malling, Peter Tidemand  262 Mann, Georg Frederich 110 Mann, Kirsten 110 Manzoni, Alessandro 191 Marcel, François Robert 44, 47 Marie-​Chénier, Joseph  188 Marker, Frederick 180 Marlborough, Duke of (John Churchill) 177 Martinet, J. J. 56–​57 Mattern, Pierre 68, 75 Mazzinghi, Joseph 30, 32 McKee, Eric 48–​49, 51–​53 McVeigh, Simon 23 Meincke, Henrik 111–​12 Merriam, Alan P. 146 Metternich, Prince (Klemens von) 80 Meves, Augustus 29 Meyer, Jörg F. 68 Meyer, Michael 252–​3, 255–​8, 260, 266 Michelsen, Kari 104 Miller, Edward 25, 34 Minne (saddlemaker) 218, 221 Moi, Toril  256 Molière (Jean-​Baptiste Poquelin) 11, 68, 74, 81, 254 Monrad, Marcus Jacob 252, 262 Monsen, Christian 259

282  Person index Morken, John Ole 137, 145 Moscheles, Isaac Ignaz 33 Motzfeldt, Hans Bull 105, 107, 114 Mozart, Leopold 114 Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus 28, 30–​34, 110, 114, 128 Mur, Maria-​Christina 16, 188 Myhren, Christen 137 Mørch, Johannes 131

Pixis, Johann Peter 33 Plantinga, Leon 27 Pleyel, Ignaz 30, 31–​32, 34, 129 Pontoppidan, Erik Ludwigsen 142–​6 Postlewait, Thomas  11 Prévost, Françoise 44 Price (equestrian) 176n18 Pugnani, Gaetano 25 Puschmann, Claudia 157, 166

Napoleon I (Bonaparte) 180, 219 Nares, James 25–​26 Nestroy, Johann 264 Norrback, Johan 129 Nürenbach, Anna Catharina 156, 160, 163, 165, 167, 169 Nürenbach, Martin (husband of Anna Catharina Nürenbach) 161, 163, 167 Nygaard, Jon 17, 251 Nøttestad, Peder Jensen 131, 132, 135, 137

Racine, Jean 11 Rahbek, Knud Lyne 208, 213, 227 Raimund, Ferdinand 258 Rameau, Jean-​Philippe  25 Rameau, Pierre 44–​45, 48, 51, 56–​57, 59, 91 Rasmussen, Erlend 104–​5 Rasmussen, Iver 137 Rawlings, Thomas Augustus  29, 32 Reichborn, Engel 262 Reynolds, Maria Hester (née Park) 32 Richter, Ole 263 Ries, Ferdinand 32 Riis, Claus Pavels 259 Riis, Ole Larssen 132, 135, 137 Rogstad, Ole L. 137 Rokem, Freddie 11–​12 Rosenfeld, Sybil 177 Röttger, Kati 80 Rotvold, Ericha see Smidt, Ericha Roucher-​Kougioumtzoglou, Eugénia 46 Roverud, Lars 239, 242 Rowland, David 27 Rugstad, Gunnar 215, 242–​3 Russell, Tilden  47, 49 Rust, Friedrich Wilhelm  128n2 Rønning, Helge 256

Oehlenschläger, Adam Gottlob 16, 105, 108, 206–​13, 227–​8 passim Olsen, John 132 Olufsen, Oluf Christian 105 Onsum, Oluf 262 Ord-​Hume, Arthur W. J. G. 128–​30, 147 Ottestad, Jens Nielsen 133 Otto, Fredrik A. 90 Owesen, Jane 105, 108 Owesen, Otto 105, 108 Owesen, Thoning  114n79 Oxholm, Jacob Frederik 215n55, 237 Paisiello, Giovanni 26, 28 Paradies, Pietro Domenico 26 Pasch, Johann 91, 94–​95 Patrat, Joseph 105 Pavels, Claus 214, 229 Pavis, Patrice 11 Pedersen, Povel (Poul) 131n17 Petersen, Peter 263 Petersen, Siegwart 263 Petrarca, Francesco 109, 200 Pfeffel, Gottlieb Konrad 199 Picard, Louis Benoît 239 Pietschmann, Klaus 7 Pihl, Abraham 137 Pindemonte, Ippolito 199 Piozzi, Hester Lynch 24 Pixérécourt, René Charles Guilbert de 188, 194

Sacchini, Antonio 24 Sagen, Lyder 109 Sand, Karl Ludwig 66, 68, 80 Sannes, Amund Petersen 132 Santlow, Hester (married Booth) 54 Sauter, Willmar  12 Scaglia, Maria 156, 160, 163, 165, 168–​9 Scaglia, Petrus (husband of Maria Scaglia) 161 Scalabrini, Paolo 105, 106n25 Scarlatti, Domenico 27 Schall, Claus 239 Schiller, Friedrich von 66, 73, 75–​77, 188, 221, 240

Person index 283 Schiøtt, Jens Jørgen 132 Schlegel, August Wilhelm 66, 74, 199 Schlegel, Friedrich 74 Schleiermacher, Friedrich 72 Schöldström, Birger 167 Schnitler, Magdalene 110 Schobert, Johann 25 Schreiber, Johan Christopher 109–​10 Schröder, Friedrich Ludwig 12 Schult, Aage 102 Schulz, Johann Abraham Peter 105, 108–​9 Schøller, Cecilie von 115 Schøller, Elisabeth 115–​16, 118 Scott, Walter  199 Scribe, Eugène 253, 254, 258, 259, 261, 264 Selvik, Randi Margrete 16, 227 Senelick, Laurence 176 Seuerling, Carl Gottfrid (husband of Margareta Seuerling) 167 Seuerling, Margareta 167 Shakespeare, William 11, 81, 105, 210, 221, 251, 253–​4 Sivertsen, Håkon 104 Skagen, Annabella 16, 104, 115n81, 206, 229–​30 Smebye, Poul Andreas 132 Smebyh, Amond Tollefsen 133, 135, 137, 144 Smidt, Ericha 218–​19, 221; see also Rotvold, Ericha Smidt, Jonas 218–​19 Somerville, Mary 24, 31–​32 Sophie Magdalene, Queen 135 Speaight, George 177, 183 Sprengels, Peter 130 Staes, Ferdinand Philippe Joseph 26 Steibelt, Daniel 27–​28, 30, 31–​32 Steichen, James 8 Steinz, Elisabeth 164 Stenberg, Pehr 165 Stendhal (Marie-​Henri Beyle) 199 Stensrud, Cecilie Louise Macé 242 Sterkel, Johann Franz Xaver 25, 30 Stewart, Jon Bartley 258 Stock, Frithjof 68 Stolberg-​Gedern, Louise of 199 Storm, Edvard 108n34 Strand, Pehr 129 Strömberg, Johan Peter 116, 239 Stuart, Christina Doreothea 156, 160–​2, 164–​5, 167, 169

Stuart, Michael (husband of Christina Doreothea Stuart) 161 Subligny,Marie-​Thérèse Perdou de 44 Svarstad, Elizabeth 14, 87 Sykes, Sir Christopher 23 Taruskin, Richard 8 Taubert, Gottfried 47, 50–​51, 59, 91 Teotochi Albrizzi, Isabella 199 Thalberg, Sigismond 33 Thaulow, Christian 103 Thrane, Paul 239 Thrane, Waldemar 239n52, 247, 259 Thaarup, Thomas 105, 108, 211 Tollersrud, Kristian 131 Tomlinson, Kellom 48–​49, 51, 91 Tompkins, Jane 10 Tronvig, Mogens 112 Tyers, Jonathan 22 Ulstad, Johan Gjert 109–​10, 112, 114, 116–​17 Ulvros, Eva Helen 165 Unger, Carl Richard 263 Ursin, Mr. 107 Vanhal, Johann Baptist 25–​26 Vedel, Karen 10 Vig, Ole 263 Vinje, Aasmund Olavsson 263 Viotti, Giovanni Battista 30 Vogler, Abbé 105 von Esch, Louis 30 von Hallberg, Robert 4 von Krogh, Georg Frederik 115 Väkevä, Lauri 8, 10 Wachtelbrenner, Philip 208 Wagner, Meike 13, 66 Walcke, Svend Henrik 87–​93, 95–​98 Wald-​Fuhrmann, Melanie  7 Weber, William 6, 10, 22, 241 Wellington, Duke of (Arthur Wellesley) 182 Wensell, Else 108–​10, 114–​15, 118, 214, 220 Wessel, Johan Herman 105, 106n25 Wille, Anne-​Marie 110, 121 Wille, Hans Jacob 110 Wille, Hans Jørgen 104, 110, 117, 237 Williams-​Wynn, Sir Watkin  23 Wilmer, Steve 12 Wilms, Johann Wilhelm  30

284  Person index Windfeld, Rune 165 Winko, Simone 12, 14, 67–​68 Woelfl, Josef 27, 31 Wolff, Christian 12 Zarhy-​Levo,Yael  11–​12 Zimmermann, Johann Georg 72

Zschokke, Heinrich 220 Ødegaard, Erik 138 Øisang, Ole 104 Ølstad, Siver Thoresen 133, 137 Østgaard, Nicolai Ramm 262 Øyen, Diderich 110