Giuliani's Guitar and Vienna's Musical Markets, 1806–1819

Home , Austrian folk dance, Fernando Sor, Francesco Corbetta, Joseph Mayseder, Kazachok, Mauro Giuliani

Music by the Ducat: Giuliani’s Guitar and Vienna’s Musical Markets, 1806–1819

Lindsay Jones

A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Faculty of Music University of Toronto

Music by the Ducat: Giuliani’s Guitar and Vienna’s Musical Markets, 1806–1819

Lindsay Jones

Doctor of Philosophy

Faculty of Music University of Toronto

2020 Abstract

Amidst ambivalent attitudes held toward the guitar, Italian-born guitar virtuoso Mauro Giuliani (1781-1829) composed and performed in Vienna from 1806 to1819. Giuliani’s time in the city was punctuated by his participation in the market for goods related to the Congress of Vienna. He entered this market by gearing his performances and publications towards representing the Congress’s mandate of cooperation and conversation, as well as the recent interest in Austrian folk songs alongside patriotic sentiments for an emerging Austrian state. Giuliani’s solo guitar performances were defined by his unique ability to overcome what critics regarded as the guitar’s seemingly unsurmountable deficiencies. His active participation in the virtuoso concert culture of Vienna—a market that was removed from a growing “serious” concert culture—was defined by his increasing involvement in the commercially-driven subscription concert. Underlying Giuliani’s participation in the Congress of Vienna and the popular virtuoso concert was his interest in the burgeoning folk music movement. Related to Austrian patriotic sentiments, Giuliani’s folk-inspired Ländler and variation sets reveal his preoccupation with a more quotation-based approach to folk song composition, an approach that—while attractive in terms of print music sales—jeopardized the longevity of his folk-inspired works by obscuring his authorial ingenuity.

The early nineteenth century is regarded by guitar scholars as the “Golden Age of the Guitar,” and Giuliani is often positioned as one of the foremost contributors to the development of classical guitar repertoire during this time. However, I argue that Giuliani’s approach to guitar composition and performance reveals not a desire to cultivate a solo classical guitar repertoire,

ii but a concerted effort to present the guitar, and by extension, himself, as a commodity for Viennese markets associated with the Congress of Vienna celebrations, the lucrative virtuoso concert, and the burgeoning folk music movement. Underlying each of these markets was a demand for public and private performances, as well as a desire for printed music. The result of Giuliani’s efforts were performances and works that, while meant for consumption by the wider public, engage with the intimate, easily digestible, and sociable aspects of Vienna’s musical culture.

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Acknowledgments

This project is twenty-four years in the making. I have loved the guitar for as long as I can remember—even before I received my first guitar for Christmas in December 1995. In a way, I feel like the instrument, with its quiet voice but great capacity for lyricism, suits me very well. Getting to this point in my academic studies, however, has not been easy, and—in my experience—life is especially determined to challenge you when you are in graduate school. When I think about my time at the University of Toronto these past six years, I realize how much this project was shaped by the people around me as much as it was by marathon writing sessions at my carrel in Robarts Library, and acknowledging the contributions of these people seems like fitting way to end what has been an incredibly formative experience in my life.

I am eternally grateful to Sherry Lee, my advisor, whose unparalleled scholarly instincts always led to exciting new avenues for the project. Her vision guided me through the many challenges of writing on a topic about which little work has been done, while her generous editing and thought-provoking questions helped me focus my ideas and lines of inquiry. I am often struck by how much I have learned from Sherry. From writing mechanics to methodologies, I owe much of my recent growth as a scholar to her. My decision to return to U of T to pursue my doctorate was inspired by a desire to study with Sherry, and I have not once regretted it.

I am also grateful for the generous support and guidance of the other members of my committee: Ellen Lockhart and Caryl Clark. Ellen’s unwavering belief in the project as well as her support for my other academic activities have been nothing short of inspirational. Ellen believed in the project before I did, and I am grateful for her keen critical eye and sense of humour. Working with her has truly been one of the most positive experiences of my graduate studies. I would like to thank Caryl Clark for her help with writing and her invaluable knowledge of the history of the Habsburg Empire and the Enlightenment legacies that inform this project. I first met Caryl as a third-year undergraduate student, and it is my sincerest hope that, twelve years later, I have made her proud.

I have truly found a sense of community and belonging at the University of Toronto, Faculty of Music, and the friends I made here are amongst the finest scholars and musicians I have ever met. Thank you to Scott Hanenberg and Nadia Younan, two members of my cohort whose friendship made navigating the stressful early years of this degree more manageable. I would also like to thank the friends with whom I bonded with more recently for providing a much- needed sense of camaraderie this past year, which has been one of the most difficult of my life. I am especially grateful for the friendship of Sadie Menicanin, Tegan Niziol, Carolyne Sumner, and Erin Scheffer. A special thank you to Amanda Hsieh for being a stalwart friend, and for scanning sections of The Giulianiad at the British Library for me. Thank you to Joyce McGill, my friend of fourteen years, for supporting me through this process, and for always believing in me.

I would not have the discipline and strength to see this project through if it were not for the love and encouragement of my family. I would like to thank my sister, Morgan, whose sharp wit and sense of humor have always been a source of comic relief, while her brilliant mind and incredible autodidactic abilities are a constant inspiration for me. I am grateful for the support of my father, Dave, whose unshakeable work ethic and ambition influenced my own. Lastly, I would like to thank my mother, Suzy, whose kindness, grace, and generosity made me the person I am today. My mother has not once doubted me, and she has supported my every endeavour with a fierce and palpable love. She raised me to be a confident, independent woman, and there is no doubt in my mind that I owe all my success to her. It is to my mother that this work is dedicated.

…an audience must not expect too much; they must not expect to hear from our little instrument, a tone as that produced by the discharge of the monster mortar at Antwerp. Let them be as critical as they like on its quality of tone and expression, but expect not the roar of the lion when the dove puts forth its plaintive voice.

– “On Public Performances on the Guitar,” The Giulianiad vol.1, no.4 (April 1833)

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments...... iv

Table of Contents ...... vii

List of Figures ...... ix

List of Examples ...... x

Chapter 1 Introduction: Mauro Giuliani and His World ...... 1

1.1 The Guitar in the Early Nineteenth Century ...... 1

1.2 Giuliani in Context ...... 3

1.3 Chapter Outline and Methodology...... 6

1.4 Guitar Construction in the Early Nineteenth Century...... 10

1.5 The “Golden Age” of the Guitar: Between Adoration and Derision ...... 14

1.6 Giuliani in Existing Scholarship ...... 18

1.7 Giuliani’s Professional Network: Publishers and Collaborators ...... 24

1.8 Toward a New Perspective on Early Nineteenth-Century Vienna ...... 32

Chapter 2 Giuliani and the Congress of Vienna: Musical Representations of Power and Politics ...... 33

2.2 Vienna 1814: The City of Many People ...... 34

2.3 Public Music Celebrations at the Congress of Vienna ...... 39

2.4 Giuliani at the Vienna Congress ...... 44

2.5 Austrian Patriotism and Music in the Late Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries .. 63

2.6 The Congress Does Not March, it Dances ...... 66

2.7 Salon Culture and Networks in Vienna ...... 69

Chapter 3 “Just Imagine a Guitar Next to Kettle-Drums”: Giuliani as Virtuoso ...... 77

3.1 From Accompanist to Soloist...... 77

3.2 Instrumental Virtuosity and the Virtuoso Concert in Early Nineteenth-Century Vienna . 79

3.3 A Guitar Virtuoso in Vienna: Three Performance Vignettes from 1808-1818 ...... 88

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3.3.1 April 2, 1808 ...... 88

3.3.2 January 1, 1812 ...... 103

3.3.3 April 16, 23, and 30, 1818 (Concert Series) ...... 113

3.4 The Site of Giuliani’s Virtuosity and the Changing Trends of Vienna’s Popular Concert Culture ...... 120

Chapter 4 Reconciling the Natural and Unnatural: Giuliani’s Folk-Inspired Works ...... 122

4.1 Remembering the Song of the Days of Old ...... 122

4.2 Johann Gottfried Herder and the Reconciliation of Art and Nature ...... 125

4.3 The Aestheticization of the Folk: Tradition and Authenticity ...... 129

4.4 Folk Music Meets Art Music: Folksong Setting in the Early Nineteenth Century ...... 132

4.5 Folksong and Dance as Popular Entertainment in Early Nineteenth-Century Vienna ... 137

4.6 Remembering the Dance of the Days of Old: Giuliani’s Ländler Sets, 1810- 1819 ...... 141

4.7 The Confluence of the Natural and Unnatural: Giuliani’s Variations on Folk Themes . 145

4.8 Giuliani’s Folk-Inspired Works: Integration and Possible Reception ...... 161

Epilogue: London 1833...... 164

Bibliography ...... 169

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List of Figures

Figure 1.1 Fan strutting (left) vs. more traditional ladder bracing (right)...... 11

Figure 2.1 Title page engraving from Hummel’s op.63 and 66 Grandes Serenades en Potpourri ...... 52

Figure 2.2 1813 medal depicting Franz I, Tsar Alexander, and Frederick William III...... 62

List of Examples

Example 1.1 Thomas Heck’s comparison of Giuliani's intermediate notation (top staff) versus modern notation (bottom staff)...... 20

Example 2.1 Variation 1 from Hummel’s op. 71 ...... 47

Example 2.2 “A Cossack Rode Beyond the Danube” from L’vov and Prach’s A Collection of Russian Folksongs...... 58

Example 2.3 Vysotsky’s “Cossack” variations published in the 1810s...... 60

Example 2.4 The theme from Giuliani’s op.64 variations on “Poschaluite Sundarina”...... 61

Example 3.1 Beginning of the guitar solo from Giuliani’s op. 30...... 90

Example 3.2 Excerpt from Giuliani’s op. 30 Guitar Concerto, first movement...... 91

Example 3.3 Der treue Tod (WoO, vocal-10)...... 100

Example 3.4 Closing theme from Giuliani’s op. 30 Guitar Concerto, first movement...... 100

Example 3.5 Variation 1 from Giuliani’s op. 24a...... 107

Example 3.6: Variation 2 from Giuliani's op.24a...... 108

Example 4.1 “Luftschösser” from Österreichische Volkslieder mit ihren Singweisen...... 147

Example 4.2 The theme from Giuliani’s op. 49 variations on “I bin a Kohlbauern Bub.” ...... 148

Example 4.3 Variation 1 from Giuliani’s op. 49 variations on “I bin a Kohlbauern Bub.” ...... 149

Example 4.4 Variation 4 from Giuliani’s op. 49 variations on “I bin a Kohlbauern Bub.” ...... 150

Example 4.5 Variation 5 from Giuliani’s op. 49 variations on “I bin a Kohlbauern Bub.” ...... 151

Example 4.6 Finale from Giuliani’s op. 49 variations on “I bin a Kohlbauern Bub.” ...... 152

Example 4.7 Theme from Giuliani's op. 45“Folia” Variations...... 155

Example 4.8 Variation 1 from Giuliani’s op. 45 “Folia” Variations...... 156

Example 4.9 Variation 5 from Giuliani’s op. 45 “Folia” Variations...... 158

Example 4.10 Transition to the finale of Giuliani's op. 45 variations...... 159

Example 4.11 Finale of Giuliani’s op. 45 variations...... 160

Chapter 1 Introduction: Mauro Giuliani and His World 1.1 The Guitar in the Early Nineteenth Century

An 1819 issue of Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung mit besonderer Rücksicht auf den österreichischen Kaiserstaat (AMZK)—a Vienna-based music periodical with a brief print run— featured playful, two-line descriptions of the most common instruments found in early nineteenth-century Viennese concert culture. While many of the instrument descriptions are meant to be humorous, the description dedicated to the guitar reveals an established prejudice against the instrument:

Wunderschön bist du ausstattirt mit buntschekichten Bändern; Aber dein Geist ist so matt, wie der Fant, der dich trägt.1

You are beautifully adorned with multi-coloured ribbons; but your spirit is as dull as the dandy who carries you about.2

This remark effectively embodies the opinions held by many music journalists regarding the guitar in the early nineteenth century. Its focus on the superficial and frivolous aspects of the instrument, and its negative assessment of guitar players, emphasize the guitar’s precarious position in Viennese concert culture. This author’s opinion of the guitar as dull was undoubtedly inspired by the accompanimental role the guitar frequently played in various performance settings, as well as its gentle attack and quieter dynamic level, which could be interpreted as weak. Simple chord strumming and arpeggiation were typical accompaniment styles for a guitarist who was supporting a vocalist or accompanying themselves while singing. This popular form of playing would have been part of more informal performances in restaurants and on the street, but also part of domestic music making.

The characterization of the guitar player’s spirit matching that of the guitar, also points to a prejudice against guitar players which was linked to the instrument itself. In his article “‘We

1 AMZK, iii/8 (1819): col.61. 2 Erik Stenstadvold, “‘We Hate the Guitar’: Prejudice and Polemic in the Music Press in Early 19th-Century Europe” Early Music 41, no. 4 (2013): 595–604, doi:10.1093/em/cat103. Translated by Erik Stenstadvold.

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Hate the Guitar’: Prejudice and Polemic in the Music Press of Early 19th-Century Europe,” Erik Stenstadvold translates Fant as dandy—a word more commonly used in London and Paris. Derived from the word infant, Fant refers to a vain, useless, and unscrupulous young man.3 This definition paints the figure of the early nineteenth-century guitarist in a negative light, characterizing these players as rude and unaware of propriety. This assessment could be linked to the often-made criticism that the guitar was inappropriately striving to attain a position in concert culture that was beyond its natural capabilities, and some critics saw the increasing visibility of the guitar in more formal performance settings as offensive.4 The AMZK’s description of the guitar was circulated the same year that Mauro Giuliani (1781-1829), an Italian virtuoso guitarist and composer, left Vienna because of financial troubles, after living and working there from 1806 to 1819. Giuliani’s focus on publishing his original compositions, delivering virtuosic performances, and associating with Vienna’s most prominent performers and publishers likely contributed to the increasing visibility of the guitar in the city, and perhaps also to the idea that the instrument was beginning to overstep its perceived natural boundaries.

The disparaging remarks about the guitar and its players made in the AMZK notwithstanding, Giuliani had experienced a degree of success in Vienna as both a performer and composer, and his time in the city coincided with a period of immense popularity for the guitar as both a novelty virtuoso instrument, as well as an instrument suited for amateur domestic music making. While descriptions of the guitar and reviews of guitar concerts found in music periodicals like the AMZK reflect opinions commonly held about the guitar and its capabilities, the instrument was also not without its share of ardent supporters –– and the same goes for Giuliani himself. Interest in and enthusiasm for the instrument and its players, which at times bordered on fanaticism, is evident in the more specialized publications that appeared in Europe in the first half of the nineteenth century. Following Giuliani’s death, a London-based guitarist’s magazine entitled The Giulianiad appeared in 1833.5 The magazine was not only dedicated to extolling the virtues of the late Giuliani as a performer and composer of unparalleled skill, but it was also focused on providing resources—in the form of musical works, reviews, and observations related to performance—to the aspiring guitarist. Its descriptions of Giuliani and his playing stand in stark

3 Digitales Wörterbuch der deutschen Sprache, “Fant,” accessed May 7, 2019, https://www.dwds.de/wb/Fant. 4 Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung, viii/31 (1806): col. 485-486; AMZ, x/34 (1808): cols.538–539; Quarterly Musical Magazine and Review, vi/24 (1824): 543–548. 5 Thomas Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, Kindle Edition (GFA Refereed Publications, 2013). The first issue of The Giulianiad is analyzed in more detail in the Epilogue.

3 contrast to the reviews of guitar music and performances found in other European music periodicals at the time:

That unrivalled performer [Giuliani] brought tones as pure, as thrilling, and almost as sustained as the violin itself—but, of course, we do not insist that because this wonderful man produced these sostenuto sounds, that it is a characteristic of the instrument itself—this only proves the triumph of true genius over great difficulty.6

The incomparably talented Giuliani described in the Giulianiad hardly resembles the dull dandy of the AMZK’s description of guitarists. Instead, he is depicted as a skilled musician with the ability to thrill his listener with his playing. The author admits to the guitar’s limited ability to sustain notes, but uses this flaw to illustrate the quality of Giuliani’s playing, noting that in his hands, the guitar seems to sustain tones almost as well as a violin. For this author, Giuliani’s ability to prevail over the challenges presented by his chosen instrument is the source of his greatness as a performer, because he is able to endow the guitar with musical qualities it was believed to lack.7

The discrepancy between the assessments of the guitar featured in the AMZK and the Giulianiad accurately reflects the precarious position held by the guitar in the early nineteenth century, and the ambivalence with which it was regarded by the concert-going public. These differing opinions encourage a reconsideration of the position of the guitar in early nineteenth-century music culture, as well as a reconsideration of the career of one of its most prominent proponents. By examining Mauro Giuliani’s involvement with Vienna’s most lucrative musical markets amidst the backdrop of the end of the Napoleonic Wars, I present an alternative narrative to that which is typically dominated by the activities of canonical composers in early nineteenth-century Vienna.

1.2 Giuliani in Context

The purpose of this dissertation is not to chronicle Giuliani’s activities in Vienna, or even to consider the significance of his career for the development of guitar culture in early nineteenth- century Europe, but to consider the ways in which a more context-specific approach to analyzing

6 The Giulianiad vol. 1/1, text section 4 (1833): 7–8. Quoted in Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 4484. 7 Assessments of Giuliani’s virtuosity vis-à-vis the guitar are analyzed in greater detail in Chapter 2.

Giuliani’s time in Vienna can highlight overlooked aspects of both his career and Vienna’s music culture in relation to contemporary socio-political currents and developing commercial markets. During his time in Vienna, Giuliani built his career by positioning the guitar, his music, and himself in various musical spheres for circulation, demonstrating a keen awareness not only of musical trends, but of the political values associated with these trends.

The archival work of Giuliani scholars Thomas Heck and Marco Riboni has uncovered enough primary resources to outline Giuliani’s activities in Vienna and provide criteria by which to analyze his compositions. However, these life-and-works studies leave many avenues of inquiry open, particularly with respect to how Giuliani engaged with the musical culture of his adopted city as an active participant, and what his career can reveal to us with respect to the smaller-scale musical narratives that were unfolding alongside Beethoven’s career in Vienna.

Despite Heck and Riboni’s thorough archival work, the number of primary sources related to Giuliani are relatively limited compared to that of his contemporaries. Giuliani’s letters to Artaria offer insight into his business dealings and motivations as a composer; however, only fourteen original letters survive, while the contents of three letters destroyed during World War II are known through descriptions of the letters written by Baron Morishige Takei who held the original letters in a private collection after bidding on them in an auction. Takei described the letters and published a photograph of Giuliani’s 1824 letter in an issue of his guitar magazine, Kenkyu Shiryo from 1943.8 In addition to Giuliani’s letters, facsimile editions of Giuliani’s works are also available, but detailed sales records were not kept by his primary publisher, Domenico Artaria, making it difficult to ascertain how well his print music sold. Eyewitness accounts and reviews of Giuliani’s performances have provided descriptions of Giuliani’s manner of playing and the nature of his performances, offering some insight into his reception while in Vienna. However, these reviews do not always list the full program Giuliani played, and ambiguities in the language used to name and describe the pieces, at times, makes it unclear which works from his catalogue were played. The relative scarcity of primary resources related to Giuliani and his time in Vienna, then, poses challenges to this project. Placing Giuliani in his milieu, to give his career a type of context which it has not been given previously, has involved

8 Thomas Heck, “Mauro Giuliani: A Lost Letter of 1827 Comes to Light,” Soundboard 31, no. 2/3 (2006): 32; Thomas Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 3623. Takei was a guitar enthusiast responsible for fostering an interest in the instrument in Japan during World War II.

5 piecing together small bits of information regarding Giuliani’s activities and placing these activities against the backdrop of broader cultural trends and political events taking place in Vienna at the time, in order to gain a better understanding of how Giuliani participated in the musical markets of his adopted home. Dominant musical narratives of early nineteenth-century Vienna tend to focus on canonical composers, and the serious music genres which are considered to have the most cultural capital. In the case of Giuliani, the height of his career from 1810 to 1819 aligns with a period of transition between late classicism and early romanticism, a period overlapping with what are often referred to as Beethoven’s ‘fallow years’. Giuliani’s performances and compositions, while meant for public consumption, work against these dominant musical narratives to highlight the easily digestible, the intimate, and the sociable aspects of Vienna’s culture which his canonical counterparts engaged with tangentially, if at all.

The transitional state of the period in which Giuliani was active calls into question the nature of the seemingly familiar musical systems Giuliani navigated. Though issues related to music and politics, virtuosity, and folk music appear to be most closely related to mid-nineteenth-century trends, these phenomena held their own significance during Giuliani’s time. The star system within which Giuliani was a participant functioned differently from later nineteenth-century models of musical and commercial success in Vienna. Rather than being promoted as commodities, Giuliani and his virtuosic contemporaries were presented as unique artists with special talents.9 While ticket and sheet music sales were integral parts of the concert culture of early nineteenth-century Vienna, the values associated with the more commercial aspects of public music making were not as negative or indeed as clearly defined as those of the second half of the 1800s. Making such distinctions between the values associated with commercialism and popularity in early nineteenth-century Vienna and those of the later nineteenth century is significant when discussing Giuliani’s career, because many of his works could be considered popular by early nineteenth-century standards. In fact, Giuliani’s music, like that of the guitar itself in the early nineteenth century, seems to have occupied a liminal position in Vienna’s music culture. While guitar scholars tend to view Giuliani as the cultivator of the early classical guitar tradition,10 a tradition that by modern guitar standards is considered learned, Giuliani’s

9 Heck, “Mauro Giuliani: A Lost Letter of 1827 Comes to Light,” 34. 10 See Thomas Heck, Mauro Giuliani: Virtuoso Guitarist and Composer (Columbus: Editions Orphée, 1995); Marco Riboni, Mauro Giuliani (Palermo: L’Epos, 2011); Nicola Giuliani, Mauro Giuliani: ascesa e declin del virtuoso della chitarra (Italy: s. n., 2005).

6 compositions and preferred modes of concertizing are at odds with the culture of serious music that was nascent during these years in this very place. Indeed, Giuliani was very shrewd when it came to discerning what would be popular, and he tapped into many of the most popular musical trends when performing and composing.

I view Giuliani’s career as a nexus of the dominant musical and cultural trends in Vienna, focussing not only on what the guitarist brought to the city, but what the city made possible for Giuliani through its developing musical markets. During his time in Vienna, Giuliani was able to harness the power of these competing trends, but eventually, changing musical tastes made his brand of guitar playing less lucrative. Thomas Heck and Marco Riboni believe that the decline of the solo guitar tradition in Vienna in the 1820s was owed to Giuliani’s departure from the city.11 This viewpoint, however, does not take into consideration the complexities of Vienna’s music culture with its changing tastes, emerging public domain, nascent concepts of nationalism, and rising “serious” music culture.

1.3 Chapter Outline and Methodology

To better understand Giuliani’s position within Vienna’s music-making culture, I have chosen to examine three markets that were tied to Giuliani’s performance career and compositional output: the market for Congress of Vienna-related performances and memorabilia, the lucrative concert culture associated with the virtuoso phenomenon in Vienna, and the demand for folk-inspired compositions. Interestingly, these aspects of Giuliani’s career—though central to his involvement in Vienna’s music culture—do create aesthetic tension when brought together, and this is especially apparent in the case of the ostensible “naturalness” often associated with the early folk movement and the perceived “unnatural” technical abilities of the virtuoso. The purpose of examining these at times conflicting facets of his career is not only to characterize the complexities of Giuliani’s position within Viennese markets, but also to highlight the various narratives that come into focus when aspects of Vienna’s music culture are examined through the lens of Giuliani’s career. In considering these aspects of Vienna’s music culture, this project draws on studies from within and outside the field of musicology. Given the diversity of the elements of Giuliani’s career which serve as points of entry into my inquiry of Giuliani’s role in

11 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 2851; Riboni, Mauro Giuliani, 158.

7 the music culture of Vienna in the early 1800s, each chapter approaches an aspect of Giuliani’s career and compositional output using a different methodology or combination of methodologies.

Drawing on the recent trend in both musicological and historical studies of examining the events of the Congress of Vienna from a distinctly Austrian perspective, Chapter 2 looks to Pieter M. Judson’s and Brian Vick’s12 historical studies of the Habsburg Empire and the Congress of Vienna—both of which privilege the perspective of the emerging Austrian Empire and encourage a reconsideration of perceived Austrian conservatism—in combination with concepts of musical power and monumentality espoused by Nicholas Mathew13 and Vick. The combination of these methodological approaches allows for a more nuanced perspective on Giuliani’s complex engagement with music and politics during the Congress, a perspective that accounts for the movement toward Austrian patriotism, the Congress’s political goals, and Giuliani’s participation in smaller-scale musical representations of political power in a context more often narrated in monumental terms. Giuliani’s participation in the market for Congress of Vienna musical celebrations is often overlooked in terms of the political significance of his performances. Viewing Giuliani’s participation in the ducat concerts of 1815, for instance, against the backdrop of the patriotic movement for an emerging Austrian state and the Congress’s goal of peaceful cooperation, reveals the political undertones of these performances. In accordance with the Congress’s goal of cooperation and conversation, Giuliani’s performances in 1815 exemplify small-scale demonstrations of musical power that mirror the large-scale demonstrations of power characteristic of monumental public concerts at the time. Giuliani’s participation in these public and private performances was underscored by an active publishing schedule, during which he focused on publishing playable guitar pieces that tapped into the Congress’s celebration of the European powers involved in negotiations.

Giuliani’s active participation in Congress-related performances was, in part, made possible by his distinctive status as an Italian guitar virtuoso in Vienna, a position that was well established by the time of the Congress. Unlike his pianistic contemporaries, Giuliani’s virtuoso persona was developed and perceived in relation to the guitar specifically. Critics regarded Giuliani’s

12 Pieter M. Judson, The Habsburg Monarchy: A New History (Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2016); Brian E. Vick, The Congress of Vienna: Power and Politics after Napoleon (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2014); Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History: Civil Society and Politics in the Habsburg Empire at the End of the Wars Against Napoleon,” Austrian History Yearbook 46 (2015): 109–133, doi:10.1017/S0067237814000137. 13 Nicholas Mathew, Political Beethoven (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 103–105.

8 heightened technical abilities as not only transcending the boundaries of what was thought to be humanly possible for musical performance, but what was thought to be possible on the guitar in particular. Giuliani’s virtuosity was deemed unique because of the apparent ease with which he was able to overcome the perceived limitations of the instrument. An analysis of Giuliani’s participation in virtuoso concerts, which typically involved “lighter” musical genres, also reveals his gradually-increasing involvement with the more commercially-driven subscription concert. To create a sense of what these performances would have been like, I have structured this chapter around three performance vignettes, each of which represents a different period in Giuliani’s time in Vienna.

My analysis of Giuliani’s virtuoso persona in Chapter 3 is informed by musicological studies of the virtuoso and independent performing artist, and engages directly with the work of James Deaville, Lawrence Kramer, and William Weber.14 Since Deaville and Kramer focus primarily on mid-nineteenth-century virtuosity, a phenomenon that postdates Giuliani, I have considered their theories regarding the physicality and exceptional abilities of the virtuoso in light of William Weber’s more contemporaneous study of early nineteenth-century concert culture and the emergence of independent, entrepreneurial performers, to a create a framework with which to study Giuliani’s status as a virtuoso. To inform some of the more practical aspects of my analysis of Giuliani’s performances—an element that is of particular significance to this project because of the acoustical challenges posed by the guitar—I have included a consideration of the acoustic properties of the spaces in which Giuliani was known to perform using studies in acoustics that address Giuliani’s specific performance venues, or venues of similar size and acoustic properties.

Many of Giuliani’s works, particularly his dances and variation sets, demonstrate the guitarist’s compositional preoccupation with drawing on folk music sources of various origins to satisfy the demand of the Viennese publishing market for such compositions. Giuliani’s use of folk music sources in the early nineteenth century is better attributed to a growing culture of patriotism than

14 James Deaville, “A Star Is Born?: Czerny, Liszt, and the Pedagogy of Virtuosity,” in Beyond the Art of Finger Dexterity: Reassessing Carl Czerny, ed. David Gramit (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 2008), 52– 66; Lawrence Kramer, The Thought of Music (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2016); Lawrence Kramer, “Franz Liszt and the Virtuoso Public Sphere: Sight and Sound in the Rise of Mass Entertainment,” in Musical Meaning: Toward a Critical History, ed. Lawrence Kramer (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), 68–99; William Weber, ed., The Musician as Entrepreneur, 1700–1914: Managers, Charlatans, and Idealists (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2004); William Weber, Music and the Middle Classes: The Social Structure of Concert Life in London, Paris, and Vienna Between 1830 and 1848, Second Edition (Burlington: Ashgate, 2004).

9 to the nationalist-tinged efforts to draw on folk sources in new compositions that were prevalent in the second half of the nineteenth century. Interestingly, Giuliani’s virtuoso persona stands in stark contrast to the musical materials he often used in his compositions. The assumption of complexity as integral to virtuosic-technical display would seem to be at odds with the aesthetic of simplicity often associated with folkish culture. Unlike his contemporaries, who reconciled folk sources with their own compositional impulses, Giuliani compartmentalizes these stylistic traits, opting to juxtapose moments of folk-inspired simplicity with passages of virtuosic display, making for a distinct and lucrative compositional approach. My examination of this juxtaposition in Chapter 4 is informed by late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century theories related to folk music. To analyze Giuliani’s inclusion of folk materials in his compositions, I draw on Johann Gottfried von Herder’s concepts regarding the reconciliation of artistic genius and folk genius, making note of the way the disparate musical traditions are represented in Giuliani’s pieces. And to interpret the interaction between Giuliani’s folk sources and his own compositional language, I apply Matthew Riley’s concept of stylistic reconciliation to my analysis of Giuliani’s Ländler and variations on folk themes.15

The purpose of the present chapter is to provide an overview of existing guitar scholarship by exploring the factors that contributed to and perpetuated the “guitar boom” in early nineteenth- century Europe. The growing popularity of the instrument stemmed from improved construction methods developed in the late eighteenth century, as well as the increasing visibility of the guitar in Europe’s major musical centres. This increasing visibility was the result of guitarists from Spain and Italy moving to Paris and Vienna in search of performance and publishing opportunities. The context of Giuliani’s specific circumstances in Vienna will be discussed with regard to his relationships with his publishers and artistic collaborators. These two types of relationships were underscored by defining aspects of Vienna’s music culture, especially the increased focus on entrepreneurialism through the publication of print music and the promotion of public concerts.

15 Matthew Riley and Anthony D. Smith, Nation and Classical Music From Handel to Copland (Woodbridge, Suffolk: The Boydell Press, 2016), 50.

1.4 Guitar Construction in the Early Nineteenth Century

Giuliani’s career coincided with a period of development and experimentation in guitar construction, and these improvements played a significant role in his ability to use the guitar as a solo instrument and vehicle for his virtuosity.16 At the time, the six-string guitar was standard in Italy, Germany, and Austria, despite the continued popularity of five- and seven-stringed instruments alongside the six-course guitar in other parts of Europe.17 The introduction of larger bodies and fan strutting to guitar construction gave the instrument a greater range of dynamic capabilities, making it possible for the guitar to be better heard amongst other instruments in pieces that required accompaniment.18 Considering the growing awareness of instrumental timbre and character that was the result of late eighteenth-century developments in instrument technologies and orchestral writing,19 the guitar’s warm timbre, distinctive attack, and unusually soft and comparatively limited dynamic range undoubtedly set it apart from other instruments.

When Giuliani began concertizing in Vienna in the early 1800s, the guitar, in its six-string form, was still a relatively new instrument in German-speaking lands.20 Without a history of five- course guitar playing, players in Austria and Germany were quicker than their French and Spanish counterparts to adopt the six-string guitar. While guitar construction improved throughout the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, these developments were not standardized, and different regions had their own distinct approach to guitar construction based on the preferences of their players. Of the major guitar centers in late eighteenth-century Europe, Spain was the pre-eminent location in terms of guitar making. Spanish luthiers constructed

16 Developments in instrument construction resulted in better control over dynamics and timbre for other plucked string instruments as well. For example, the introduction of double-action pedals to harp construction allowed for a more consistent tone in both high and low registers and for the instrument to produce a fuller sound overall. Such advancements led to more idiomatic writing for the harp and the emergence of virtuoso harpists at the beginning of the nineteenth century. See Hans Joachim Zingel, Harp Music in the Nineteenth Century, ed. and trans. by Mark Palkovic (Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1992), 25. 17 Tom Evans and Mary Ann Evans, Guitars: Music, History, Construction, and Players from the Renaissance to Rock (New York: Paddington Press, 1977), 40. 18 Fan strutting is an internal support system used in guitar construction since the late eighteenth century. Rather than using lateral bars to support the guitar’s soundboard, a method of construction that inhibits the soundboard’s ability to vibrate, the longitudinal bars of fan strutting eliminate the need for transverse struts on the lower bout of the guitar while allowing for improved vibrational efficiency. See Evans, Guitars, 40. 19 Emily I. Dolan, The Orchestral Revolution: Haydn and the Technologies of Timbre (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 4. 20 James Tyler and Paul Sparks, The Guitar and Its Music: From the Renaissance to the Classical Era (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 249.

11 guitars with larger bodies and fan strutting, a type of internal support system for the top of the instrument which allowed it to vibrate more efficiently (Figure 1.1). This construction technique—which originated in Spain and would become indicative of instruments built in the ‘Spanish style’21—replaced the lateral bars that previously supported the top of the five-course guitar, but hindered the instrument’s potential for louder, more sustained sound. These advancements in guitar construction improved the instrument’s capacity for soloistic display by making it more dynamically versatile and resonant compared to its five-course counterpart. Spanish guitars in the late eighteenth century, however, were also typically six-course instruments, featuring six pairs of strings as opposed to the six single strings played by Giuliani.

Figure 1.1 Fan strutting (left) vs. more traditional ladder bracing (right).

Despite the innovations introduced by Spanish luthiers, Spanish guitar-making techniques were not employed by French and Italian luthiers, who had their own preferences. Late eighteenth- century French luthiers built their guitars to support five courses, despite the increasing popularity of six strings and six courses in other parts of Europe. While French guitars featured wooden tuning pegs and a fingerboard that was flush with the body of the guitar—like those produced by Spanish luthiers—French guitars were constructed with gut frets as opposed to metal frets.22 These guitars also used the more traditional lateral braces typically used in eighteenth-century guitar construction.

21 Darryl Martin, “Innovation and the Development of the Modern Six-String Guitar,” The Galpin Society Journal vol. 51 (July 1998): 87. 22 Tyler and Sparks, The Guitar and Its Music: From the Renaissance to the Classical Era, 256.

Unlike their Spanish and French counterparts, Italian luthiers produced guitars with six single strings rather than courses. Though the fan strutting techniques of Spanish luthiers would eventually become more commonly used in the nineteenth century, late eighteenth-century Italian guitars still made use of lateral bracing to support the guitar top.23 Guitars made by Italian luthiers were easily recognized by the especially narrow waist of the instrument, the extended fingerboard, and the occasional use of bridges with saddles and end-pins to secure the strings to the body of the guitar.24 At the end of the eighteenth century, the luthiers in Naples were responsible for producing the majority of Italian guitars, and Giuliani, who was living and working there prior to his departure for Vienna, would likely have been playing instruments made by these Neapolitan luthiers. Giuliani is known to have played guitars made by G.B. Fabricatore, who produced six-string instruments in Naples from 1780 onwards. Very few of Giuliani’s guitars have survived, one of them being his 1809 Fabricatore guitar.25 The only other surviving guitar that Giuliani possessed is a lyre-guitar gifted to him from Empress Marie Louise, his guitar pupil and the dedicatee of his op. 27 song for voice and guitar.26

In addition to the improved methods of guitar construction, early nineteenth-century European luthiers began to include unique innovations that became characteristic of their approach to guitar making. Despite the guitar’s relatively recent arrival in Vienna, luthiers in the city began to develop their own approach to guitar building which, while derived from the more established styles of Europe’s major guitar centers, represent the early growth of a distinctly Viennese tradition of guitar making. Vienna-based luthier Johann Georg Stauffer (1778-1853) was active during Giuliani’s time in Vienna, and was responsible for creating a distinct Viennese-style guitar which combined the construction styles of Italian and French luthiers.27 Stauffer developed several new innovations in guitar construction, including a floating fretboard similar to that of the violin, tuners attached to one side of the guitar headstock rather than three on each side, and a bolt-on adjustable neck.28 Stauffer employed talented luthiers in his workshop,

23 Ibid., 255. 24 Ibid. 25 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 4256. 26 Ibid., location 1549. 27 Michael Lorenz, “Stauffer Miscellanea,” Michael Lorenz: Musicological Trifles and Biographical Paralipomena (blog), March 2, 2014, http://michaelorenz.blogspot.com/2014/03/stauffer-miscellanea.html. Accessed December 20, 2018. 28 Martin, “Innovation and the Development of the Modern Six-String Guitar,” 90.

13 including his apprentice and workshop foreman Christian Frederick Martin (1796-1873), who would eventually immigrate to the United States to start his own guitar-making business.29

As one of Vienna’s most prominent and innovative luthiers, Stauffer did have some connections to Giuliani. In an 1807 notice that Stauffer placed in the Wiener Zeitung, the luthier credited Giuliani with providing him with the encouragement to produce a new double-neck guitar model:

For quite a while I have harboured the desire to give this much-loved instrument a greater compass of notes, thereby giving it increased practicality, and providing its players with greater satisfaction and pleasure. The famous guitarist, Herr Maurus Giuliani, has expressed to me the same desire, and urged me to lay my hands to this task.30

The guitar that Stauffer designed, which he called the Doppelguitarre, extended the range of the instrument by an octave, with each of the necks featuring strings that were tuned an octave apart.31 Though there are no written records to characterize the exchanges between Giuliani and Stauffer, and Giuliani is not known to have played Stauffer’s Doppelguitarre in public, this notice reveals some interesting aspects of Giuliani’s status as a performer in Vienna. It is very telling that Stauffer invokes Giuliani’s name in order to garner interest in his latest guitar model, especially since, in 1807 when this notice was published, Giuliani had been in the city for only a year. Stauffer must have thought Giuliani’s reputation distinguished enough to help sales of the Doppelguitarre. Stauffer’s characterization of the guitar as popular, but limited in its capabilities, and his desire to improve on its construction, point to his awareness of the market for which he was building his instruments. His innovations, though not always long-term solutions to the guitar’s perceived problems, were meant to satisfy the needs of players, particularly musicians like Giuliani who could showcase his guitars in the best possible way.

29 Martin’s guitar making venture would eventually grow into one of North America’s pre-eminent guitar companies with a focus on premium acoustic instruments. Today, Martin guitars are highly sought-after instruments for professional players who favour steel-string acoustic guitars. 30 Der Wiener Zeitung, October 21, 1807. Quoted in Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 1202. Transcribed by Gerhard Penn. 31 Ibid.

1.5 The “Golden Age” of the Guitar: Between Adoration and Derision

The early nineteenth century marked the beginning of one of the most significant periods of development in the history of the guitar, not only because of the emergence of repertoire for an instrument that closely resembles the modern guitar, but also because the instrument saw an increase in popularity across Europe. Once associated primarily with musical centres in Spain and Italy, the guitar developed followings in other major European cities with active music cultures, namely Vienna, London, and Paris. These cities played host to the most talented and prolific guitarist-composers of the early nineteenth century, who were known not only for their virtuosic abilities as performers, but also as major contributors to a growing repertoire for the guitar which was predominantly solo music. In terms of guitar history, the beginning of the nineteenth century is often affectionately referred to as the “golden age” of the guitar or the “guitar boom,” a brief yet significant period between 1800 and 1840 in which the instrument reached the pinnacle of its popularity in the nineteenth century.32

Giuliani was not the only guitarist to leave Italy in search of performance opportunities in Europe’s major music centres, and indeed, the exodus of guitarists from Italy was partly responsible for the increased interest in the guitar in Vienna, Paris, and London at the beginning of the nineteenth century. While Giuliani seems to have been one of the only Italian guitarists from this time to seek opportunity in Vienna, many other guitarists from Italy made Paris their adopted home. Between 1774 and 1820, guitarists such as Federico Moretti, Ferdinando Carulli, Matteo Carcassi, and Marco Aurelio Zani de Ferranti spent time in Paris concertizing and publishing their music.33 Though more readily associated with the violin and early-to-mid- nineteenth-century forms of instrumental virtuosity, Niccoló Paganini (1782-1849) was also a

32 Stenstadvold, “‘We Hate the Guitar’: Prejudice and Polemic in the Music Press in Early 19th-Century Europe,” 595. 33 In some ways, this exodus of guitarists from Italy in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries mirrors the exodus of the improvvisatori from Italy, whose performances occasionally featured guitar accompaniment. The improvvisatori were famous for their improvised verses, a style of poetry recitation that became associated with the Enlightenment notions of wit and conviviality, and later, with the Romantic fascination with genius, spectacle, and virtuosity. While guitar performances were assessed by similar criteria and were met with a similar degree of ambivalence, the figure of the improvvisatore was distinctly Italian, and contributed to late eighteenth and early nineteenth-century definitions of Italianness. There was also a more concerted effort on the part of German-speaking poets, like Goethe, to import and appropriate the techniques of the improvvisatori into their own poems. See Angela Esterhammer, Romanticism and Improvisation, 1750-1850 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 5-6, 15, 36, 79.

15 slightly later example of a mobile Italian guitarist who left his homeland in search of performance opportunities. Paganini left Milan for Vienna in 1828, where he concertized and composed for three months before heading to Germany.34 While Paganini’s compositions for guitar, whether solo or in chamber context with piano, speak to his passion for the instrument, he is not known to have performed on the guitar in public concerts, opting to play the instrument in private settings exclusively.35 Heck believes that guitarists were leaving Italy in search of opportunities in Paris and Vienna because of the highly developed nature of the music culture in these two European capitals. In addition to their prominent salon cultures—the ideal performance settings to accommodate the dynamic limitations of the guitar—Paris and Vienna also had more developed publishing industries. While Italy had very few publishing houses in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries (Ricordi was not founded until 1808), Paris and Vienna boasted a number of publishing firms and a flourishing publishing market.36 Building on Heck’s observation, I believe Paris and Vienna would have also been attractive destinations for Italian guitarists because of the relative newness of the guitar in those cities.

While Giuliani focused on the Viennese market, his noted Spanish contemporaries, Fernando Sor (1778-1839) and Dionisio Aguado (1784-1849), made Paris their adopted home. Sor was especially mobile: after living in Paris for two years, he moved to London in 1815, and eventually Moscow in 1823. After three years in Moscow he concertized around Europe for a year before returning to Paris in 1827. Aside from concertizing, Sor was also very active in publishing his original compositions. Like Giuliani’s, many of his works were written for solo guitar, but his catalogue is more diverse than Giuliani’s in terms of genre, as he also composed seven ballets and two operas (though some of these pieces are lost). During his sojourn in London, four of Sor’s ballets were produced, one of which, Cindrillon (1822), was well received and performed in Paris the next year.37

34 Edward Neill, "Paganini, Nicolò." Grove Music Online, 2001. 12 Mar. 2019. http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.0 01.0001/omo-9781561592630-e-0000040008. 35 Darren Robert Buzz Gravelle, "Stylistic Analysis and Performance Practice Issues in Niccolo Paganini's Grand Sonata Per Chitarra Con Accompagnamento Di Violino" DMA diss., University of California, Los Angeles, 1997, 2. http://myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/login?url=https://search-proquest- com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/docview/304325867?accountid=14771. 36 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 914. 37 Brian Jeffrey, Fernando Sor: Composer and Guitarist, Second Edition (Penderyn: Tecla Editions, 1994), 67.

Though Sor’s catalogue of works is more diverse than that of Giuliani, his comments regarding the difficulty of some of Giuliani’s writing suggest that he may not have been as technically proficient as his Italian counterpart, or at least that he held different values when it came to composition and styles of playing. In his 1830 Méthode pour le guitare, Sor comments on the difficulty of the guitar part Giuliani wrote for “La Sentinelle,” a collaborative piece written with pianist Johann Nepomuk Hummel and violinist Joseph Mayseder in 181538:

Once when I needed to play, with Messrs. Hertz and Lafont, the trio by Hummel on La Sentinelle, I was obliged to redo for myself the guitar variation, Ex. 88, because the one which was provided presented me with difficulties which were quite a lot greater than my own variation. Accordingly, one can see that if the particular nature of the guitar is that of the variation in question, then I am not as skilled in this instrument as the one who wrote it. I could play it, but it would be at the expense of principles from which I would never wish to depart.39

Sor uses Giuliani’s variation to acknowledge that Giuliani may have been a more technically proficient player, but in a way that did not comply with his own aesthetic inclinations. Giuliani scholar Thomas Heck uses this comment to discuss the different techniques favoured by Sor and Giuliani, namely that Sor altered Giuliani’s variation by omitting the bass notes in order to use a right-hand thumb and index (p and i) alternation, which he preferred over the alternation between the index and middle (i and m) required by Giuliani’s original variation.40 Perhaps Sor also thought the inclusion of these accompanimental bass notes was unnecessary because of the harmonic support offered by the piano and violin parts. By including Giuliani’s variation in his method alongside his version, Sor created a musical link between himself and Giuliani. Sor clearly felt that there was some competition between them, despite the fact that they worked in different locations, and there is no record of them ever crossing paths. I believe Sor’s rearrangement of Giuliani’s “La Sentinelle” variation and his accompanying comments—though not a sincere admission of Giuliani’s potentially superior skill—reveal his need to distinguish himself from his Italian counterpart in terms of playing style and composition. This would have been especially important in 1830 because Giuliani’s recent death placed him at the forefront of

38 Giuliani’s performance of “La Sentinelle” with Hummel and Mayseder is discussed at length in Chapter 2. 39 Fernando Sor, Méthode pour la guitare (Paris: Lauteur, 1830), 85. Quoted in Heck, Giuliani: a Life for the Guitar, location 5022. Translated by Thomas Heck. 40 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 5022.

17 people’s minds in guitar cultures across Europe; this is evidenced by The Giulianiad, which began circulation in 1833. Started four years after Giuliani’s death, the magazine, notably, was based in London, a city Giuliani did not visit during his lifetime but which Sor called his home for eight years.41

Despite this growth in interest in the instrument and corresponding solo repertoire for it, the guitar nevertheless occupied a precarious position in European music culture. As an instrument, it was most readily associated with popular music, informal performance settings, women’s domestic music making,42 and foreign music.43 Though the instrument had its share of supporters, as Erik Stenstadvold demonstrates, the guitar was subject to a considerable number of negative assessments in the press despite its popular following.44 These negative comments, found in publications across Europe such as Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (AmZ), Revue Musicale, and Musical World, often acknowledged, perhaps grudgingly, the guitar’s charming and sweet quality, all the while highlighting its dynamic limitations and perceived unsuitability for more formal public performances.

One striking comparison that Stenstadvold makes between two AmZ reviews, published just months apart in 1806, serves to underscore the varying, and often disparaging, remarks about the guitar that were common in early nineteenth-century music journalism. What is interesting about these remarks is the vastly different way guitar performances could be received if the players were deemed to possess virtuosic skill. While one performance in Frankfurt of a set of variations for two guitars and cello by Christian Gottlieb Scheidler received praise for the virtuosic playing of one of the guitarists—Scheidler’s student, known only as Miss Jung—a concert featuring a singer who accompanied himself on a guitar received a very different response.45 The reviewer of this second concert criticizes the performer’s simplistic playing, noting that the guitar is not an appropriate instrument for large public concerts, and that its popularity and praise are

41 The Giulianiad is discussed in more detail in the Epilogue. 42 Stenstadvold, “’We Hate the Guitar’: Prejudice and Polemic in the Music Press in Early 19th-Century Europe,” 595. 43 Christopher Page, “Editorial,” Early Music 41, no. 4 (2013): 555–56, doi:10.1093/em/cat106. In this context, the concept of foreign music refers to the guitar’s association with Spanish styles of playing, as well as its association with itinerant people such as soldiers, street performers, and beggars. See Page, “Editorial,” 55. 44 Stenstadvold, “‘We Hate the Guitar’: Prejudice and Polemic in the Music Press in Early 19th-Century Europe,” 595. 45 Ibid., 598-599.

18 unwarranted.46 While Stenstadvold’s comparison serves to highlight the guitar’s mixed reception in German-speaking lands, specifically the many negative evaluations of the instrument itself, this review comparison does not take into account the very different genres that were performed at these concerts. The virtuosity, or technical ability of the player, had a profound impact on the way the instrument was received in different performance settings. The reviewer of this second concert also makes some concessions regarding the appropriateness of the guitar in certain performance contexts, admitting that a player of virtuosic ability would make a public performance on the guitar permissible: “It is also even downright contrary to the purpose and the properties of this instrument for it to be presented in large, public assemblies—with the only possible exception being when this is done by an outstanding virtuoso.”47 Thus, while this facet of Stenstadvold’s argument overlooks crucial details regarding genre and player ability, it nevertheless illustrates the tendency towards negative assessments of the guitar in music journalism, and the common theme of portraying the guitar as a very flawed instrument whose players would make better use of their talents if they chose other musical pursuits.

1.6 Giuliani in Existing Scholarship

Compared to other guitarists of his time, Giuliani has received a fair amount of attention from guitar scholars, who have unearthed many of the details surrounding his life and career. In his seminal dissertation and subsequent monograph, Mauro Giuliani: a Life for the Guitar (2013), Thomas Heck presents a comprehensive biography of the guitarist, chronicling his early years in Naples, his success in Vienna, and his final years in Rome and Naples.48 Giuliani was born in 1781 in the village of Bisceglie, Apulia in the southeastern region of Italy.49 He received his musical training in Bisceglie as well as Naples where he studied counterpoint while becoming a proficient cellist and guitarist. The exact details of Giuliani’s musical education are not known, but he does not seem to have had any affiliation with the Conservatorio in Naples. Instead, it is likely that he learned from local musicians.50 Giuliani’s contemporary and earliest biographer,

46 Ibid., 599. 47 Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, viii/31 (1806): col. 485-486. Cited in Stenstadvold, “‘We Hate the Guitar’: Prejudice and Polemic in the Music Press in Early 19th-Century Europe,” 599. Translated by Erik Stenstadvold. 48 Prior to Heck’s work, there were disputes regarding the dates of Giuliani’s activities, and few details were known about his life as a performer and composer. 49 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 304. 50 Riboni, Mauro Giuliani, 39.

Filippo Isnardi,51 notes in his account of the guitarist’s life that as a teenager, Giuliani composed a Mass which was well-received in Naples prior to his departure from the city in 1805.52 Between his time in Naples and his move to Vienna, Giuliani spent time in the northeastern city of Trieste, where he held a public performance during which he played the thirty-string guitar- harp, the cello, and the guitar.53 Heck believes that Giuliani was not merely passing through Trieste, but stayed in the city for an extended period of time because it provided an ideal environment for him and his wife to raise their two children.54 Trieste, however, was not equipped to foster Giuliani’s musical ambitions, and he left for Vienna in 1806, leaving his family behind.55

Heck’s work serves to clarify the details of Giuliani’s exploits in Austria and Italy by means of archival resources, but he also provides an in-depth analysis of Giuliani’s contributions to the development of guitar notation. He traces the development from what he describes as “primitive” tablature-derived guitar notation, without proper durations or stem directions to differentiate between voices, to Giuliani’s advanced notation, similar to that in use today.56 Giuliani’s own method of notation falls in between tablature style and the more advanced style of notation employed in the later nineteenth century by guitarist-composers such as Napoleon Coste (1805- 1883), a Parisian virtuoso guitarist whose music represents a more contemporary application of certain notational figures.57 Where Giuliani’s notation differs from that of Coste is in his treatment of longer note values. While he does use stem directions to indicate the trajectory of two to three different voices, he makes extensive use of rests whenever a part drops out of the texture.58 Giuliani’s constant use of rests—which was likely also indicative of the guitar’s limited ability to sustain—results in the almost exclusive use of quarter notes and eighth notes,

51 Isnardi lived in Naples in the 1820s and 30s. An amateur guitarist, Isnardi’s account of Giuliani’s life--though inaccurate in some ways--suggests that he knew Giuliani in some capacity. Ricordi dedicated two of Giuliani’s posthumously-published works to Isnardi. See Heck, Mauro Giuliani: a Life for the Guitar, location 485. 52 Filippo Isnardi, “Cenni biografici intorno a Mauro Giuliano, comunicati per la parte storica dal pregevole Sig. Filippo Isnardi, peritissimo della scienza musicale,” L’omnibus, folio periodico IV/3 (Naples, 30 April, 1836): 12. Quoted in Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 745. 53 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 961, 986. 54 Ibid., location 999. 55 The dates of Giuliani’s sojourn in Trieste are debated amongst scholars. Filippo Isnardi places Giuliani in Trieste in 1803, while Marco Riboni asserts that Giuliani spent just one year in the city from 1805-1806. See Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 949. 56 Heck, Giuliani: Virtuoso Guitarist and Composer, 145. 57 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 4753. 58 Ibid., location 4717.

20 whereas a later composer would indicate a sustained bass voice, for example, with half notes or ties, rather than allowing it to disappear from the texture (with its silence marked by a rest).59 In addition to the distinct voices that were integral to Giuliani’s style of notation, he also included slurs, glissandi, ornaments, harmonics, and instructions to execute timbral changes into his music. These inclusions are notable not only because of their associations with more soloistic styles of playing, but also because they demonstrate Giuliani’s expert understanding of the guitar’s capabilities and the types of gestures that can be easily performed on the instrument. Giuliani’s very descriptive and specific method of notating guitar music (Example 1.2) was one that was also used by his immediate successors, namely Spanish guitarist-composer Dionisio Aguado (1784-1849). This “intermediate” style of notation was not supplanted by the more modern style of notation employed by Coste (i.e.: that which uses literal rests as opposed to rests as a notational convention) until the 1850s.60

Example 1.1 Thomas Heck’s comparison of Giuliani's intermediate notation (top staff) versus modern notation (bottom staff). Heck’s study of the unique notational aspects of Giuliani’s music is complemented by his analysis of Giuliani’s compositional style. In analyzing Giuliani’s compositions, he does not detect any overall growth or maturity in Giuliani’s creative output when comparing his earlier and later works;61 this assertion is problematic not only because it subscribes to the notion that composers should exhibit growth and development in the trajectory of their works, but also because it does not take into account external factors that may have influenced Giuliani’s compositional process. He does note, however, that Giuliani’s music is defined by the

59 Ibid. 60 Ibid., location 4999. 61 Ibid., location 5294.

21 composer’s dedication to conventionally-correct harmony, voice-leading, and phrasing according to late-eighteenth-century standards, while showcasing the guitar to the best of its capabilities.62 He portrays Giuliani as a composer who was preoccupied with meeting the needs of his publishers, patrons, and students.63 The result of this preoccupation and his immersion in the music culture of his adopted home is what Heck identifies as the direct influence of the composer’s environment on his choice of musical forms and themes for his compositions.64 Heck’s characterization of Giuliani’s creative impetus and his compositional influences, however, does not take into account the nuances of Vienna’s music culture, nor does it explore some of the more unique aspects of Giuliani’s position in the Viennese network of musicians. Most of Giuliani’s contemporaries could be described as having been influenced to write for certain genres or to use certain themes because of the musical culture around them. Heck’s suggestion that Giuliani and his contemporaries were less self-conscious about their compositions compared to their later nineteenth-century counterparts because of the necessity of composition to their livelihood65 does not consider the significance of changing composer- audience relationships, the development of concert culture, or composers’ increasing preoccupation with composing for posterity as a result of historically-minded studies of music like Charles Burney’s surveys of music in France, Italy, and Germany from the 1770s.

Building on Heck’s work, Marco Riboni’s 2011 publication is a biography and study of Giuliani’s compositional style entitled Mauro Giuliani. While Riboni’s monograph is essentially a life-and-works study in the vein of Heck’s, Riboni expands on Heck’s analysis of Giuliani’s work by providing more contextual information pertaining to the dominant musical styles in early nineteenth-century Vienna to enhance our understanding of Giuliani’s compositional style. Rather than studying Giuliani’s works based on their categorization into different genres, Riboni proposes a system of analysis that considers the intended audience or recipient of each piece, relating certain types of recipients to specific musical styles.66 Drawing on the work of Leonard

62 Ibid., location 5109, location 5182. The guitar music of some of Giuliani’s lesser-known contemporaries does not adhere as strictly to the rules of Classical harmony and voice leading. Thomas Heck analyzes one example by guitarist-composer Anton Graeffer. In analyzing Graeffer’s pedagogical work, Guitar Schule (1812), Heck points out instances of improper voice leading and harmony. See Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, locations 5152, 5161. 63 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 5037. 64 Ibid., location 5057. 65 Ibid. 66 Riboni, Mauro Giuliani, 250-251.

Ratner’s 1980 Classic Music: Expression, Form, and Style, the styles that Riboni uses to analyze Giuliani’s works are what he calls the Biedermeier, galant, Viennese, brilliant, virtuoso, reductive, operatic, elevated, vocal, and didactic, with Giuliani’s transcriptions being placed into a separate category.67 He argues that many of the works Giuliani produced while in Vienna—his countless variation sets, for example—fall into the Biedermeier category because of the simplicity of the writing which made them playable by amateurs, the intended recipients for works in this style.68 Many of the pieces that Riboni places in this category are Giuliani’s sets of dances, namely those drawing on national styles, such as his op. 23 Zwölf Wald-Ländler and his op.21 12 Waltzes.69 Because of their low level of difficulty, Giuliani’s contributions to music for guitar duet, many of which are also Ländler, are also a significant part of Giuliani’s pieces written in the “Biedermeier” style. While the term Biedermeier typically refers to a period in Vienna’s history from 1815-1848 that overlaps with the second half of Giuliani’s time in the city, Riboni’s focus on the audience or intended recipients of a work allows for a more nuanced analysis of a catalogue of works that is dominated by variation sets.

Riboni also attempts to explain perceived eccentricities or deficiencies in Giuliani’s works and compositional style. He argues, for example, that applying the tenets of Viennese classicism to an analysis of Giuliani’s works, rather than classicism more broadly, results in a very limited understanding of Giuliani’s compositional procedures.70 Rather than viewing Giuliani as a proponent of Viennese classicism, a style that cultivated more development-driven forms, Riboni views Giuliani as part of a broader, European classicism to account for the guitarist’s focus on more additive forms like variations.71 Riboni’s primary means of defining European Classicism is with respect to how it compares to Viennese Classicism with its lack of thematic development, close key relationships, and developmentally-driven forms.72 Instead, Giuliani, as a proponent of a type of broader European Classicism, focuses on the juxtaposition of musical ideas as opposed to continuous development. This is a key feature of his larger works, namely his guitar concerti. However, rather than reading Giuliani’s paratactic treatment of phrases as mere deviations from

67 Ibid., 262. 68 Ibid., 269. 69 Ibid., 269. 70 Ibid.., 252. 71 Ibid., 255. 72 Ibid., 255-256.

23 more mainstream compositional practices, Riboni views Giuliani’s compositional style in terms of how it is informed by the timbral qualities of the guitar, arguing that harmonic progressions in the classical style are typically dictated by formal structures, while Giuliani’s seemingly freer modulations were inspired by the timbral qualities that certain chords possess when played on the guitar.73 Amidst these paratactic phrases and seemingly unconventional harmonic shifts is Giuliani’s reliance on additive forms such as variations which, Riboni argues, create cohesion in the piece with the repetition of a single musical theme.74 Related to the more practical aspects of sound production in performance, Riboni views the gestures of Giuliani’s playing, particularly those associated with virtuosity, as integral characteristics of the guitarist’s compositional style.75

Riboni’s consideration of the intended recipients of Giuliani’s compositions reveals an awareness of the musical markets in which Giuliani was a participant. However, Riboni’s invocation of these markets is meant to provide a framework with which to better analyze the aesthetic qualities of Giuliani’s work, and he does not take into consideration the significance of the demand for performances that was part of these markets or their political ties. Riboni’s study offers more context-based criteria by which to analyze Giuliani’s catalogue, and his focus on Giuliani’s awareness of the sound qualities of the guitar reveals important criteria by which to analyze Giuliani’s compositional choices; however, he does not consider the cultural significance of Giuliani’s position in Vienna or the significance of his engagement with broader cultural currents, opting instead to investigate the ways in which Giuliani’s compositions were influenced by his musical milieu. Riboni’s methodology provides a productive means of analyzing Giuliani’s compositional output, but sufficient work has been undertaken in unearthing the details of Giuliani’s life and analyzing his compositional style. Focussing on his diverse roles within Vienna’s dynamic musical culture, though, rather than considering only the influence of that musical sphere on his works, is actually a means to reveal some of the less mainstream narratives of this time, ones which account for social and political factors and his negotiation of them in various facets of his professional life.

I propose a more fluid conceptualization of Giuliani’s position in Vienna’s musical circles not presented by Heck and Riboni. While their work has made great strides in uncovering the details

73 Ibid., 255. 74 Ibid., 256. 75 Ibid., 256-7.

24 of Giuliani’s life, and understanding the way his work exhibits the influences of his milieu, Heck and Riboni have not enhanced our understanding of Giuliani’s role within Vienna’s music culture, opting instead to legitimize Giuliani as a composer and performer by producing life-and- works studies that chronicle Giuliani’s musical activities and categorize and analyze his compositions. This approach to studying his career has given Giuliani canonic status within modern guitar culture, and much of the literature surrounding Giuliani is somewhat celebratory in nature. While Giuliani’s substantial contributions to the development of classical guitar repertoire cannot be denied, viewing his career vis-à-vis larger cultural currents, and not only with respect to his contributions to the classical guitar tradition, can lead to a new perspective on his position within early nineteenth-century music culture. Studying Giuliani’s position from this vantage point can lead to an enhanced understanding of how he engaged with his milieu, as well as what his career reveals about his surroundings. Unlike the work of Heck and Riboni, this study is also not invested in accepting Giuliani on his own terms. Instead, it uses Giuliani as a lens from which to view aspects of early nineteenth-century musical culture and markets that have been thoroughly studied from other perspectives. 1.7 Giuliani’s Professional Network: Publishers and Collaborators

Existing scholarship on Giuliani characterizes his time in Vienna as critically successful, prolific, and tradition-defining in terms of its influence on the development of solo classical guitar repertoire in Europe. While these aspects of Giuliani’s sojourn in Vienna were undoubtedly instrumental in shaping his public persona and his artistic legacy, the personal and professional connections he forged between other members of Vienna’s musical circles were just as important in determining the reception of his music and the types of opportunities that were available to him. Giuliani’s connections with publishers and other musicians are discussed in context within each chapter of this dissertation, but outlining the nature of these connections here will provide a useful overview of his professional and personal circles.

Giuliani’s career coincided with a period of rapid growth and development in Vienna’s publishing industry as well as the commodification of music-related goods. In the period ranging from the late eighteenth century to the late 1820s, print culture replaced commercial copying as a

25 primary means of disseminating music throughout Europe.76 The rise of music engraving using copper plates opened new possibilities for selling sheet music because the market life of a piece could be extended by printing additional copies to meet the demands of the public.77 Furthermore, the relationships forged by publishers in different European cities allowed for the wider dissemination of composers’ printed music. Circulating music between publishers around the continent gave consumers from across Europe increased access to the repertoire. The business of trade between publishers in different cities was integral to increasing the longevity of a particular piece in the marketplace.78

The commodification of print music led to the creation of a market whose fluctuations a publisher would attempt to predict in order to put together a catalogue that would appeal to his consumers.79 Publishers in late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century Vienna fulfilled several roles: not only did they have responsibilities related to their dealings with composers and consumers, but they were also directly involved in shaping Vienna’s musical culture. Rupert Ridgewell argues that publishers acted not only as market-savvy businessmen, but as curators of their print shops.80 Shops that sold printed music often sold other types of desirable prints and art-related merchandise, too. The Artaria shop in Vienna, for example, sold maps, books, and art in addition to music.81 The variety of merchandise sold, and the options made available to their customers, made the Artarias (Carlo, Francesco, and Ignazio in the late eighteenth century and Domenico in the early nineteenth century) curators of their shops, building a local market while establishing trade deals with publishers in other locations.82

76 Rupert Ridgewell, “Economic Aspects: The Artaria Case,” in Music Publishing in Europe, 1600-1900: Concepts, Issues, and Bibliography, ed. Rudolf Rasch (Berlin: BWV, Berliner Wissernschafts-Verlag, 2005), 89. 77 Rupert Ridgewell, “Inside a Viennese Kunsthandlung: Artaria in 1784,” in Consuming Music: Individuals, Institutions, Communities, 1730-1830, ed. Emily H Green and Catherine Mayes (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 2007), 38. 78 The Artaria firm, for example, could sell pieces in other locations once they were no longer popular in Vienna. See Rupert Ridgewell, “Mozart’s Music on Sale in Vienna and Paris, 1780-1790,” in The Circulation of Music in Europe, 1600-1900: A Collection of Essays and Case Studies, ed. Rudolf Rasch (Berlin: BWV, Berliner Wissernschafts-Verlag, 2008), 122. 79 Emily H. Green, “Music’s First Consumers: Publishers in the Late Eighteenth Century,” in Consuming Music: Individuals, Institutions, Communities, 1730-1830, ed. Emily H. Green and Catherine Mayes (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 2007), 24. 80 Ridgewell, “Inside a Viennese Kunsthandlung: Artaria in 1784,” 46. 81 Ibid., 30. 82 Ibid., 38.

A publisher’s shop catalogue was a testament to his good taste and his ability to offer a variety of products to his consumers.83 Publishers often made their catalogues intentionally overwhelming for their customers by offering an excess of products which, especially in the early nineteenth century, were considered luxury items. Overwhelming customers with variety and quantity were ways in which, as Emily Green asserts, the publisher fostered a culture of conspicuous consumption, a means of “…demonstrating cultural capital and achieving distinction…”84 By tailoring their catalogues and providing consumers with products that—through their packaging, dedications, and the number of sets ordered—demonstrated an awareness of the user’s experience of the product, publishers wielded a degree of cultural influence.85

The increasing visibility of the publisher in shaping the music culture of the city in which he lived was accompanied by the gradual decline of the patronage system. As composers began to rely less on patrons, they became more dependent on their publishers who, in a way, replaced patrons in the ecosystem of music creation and dissemination. Green argues that for the composer, the publisher occupied the dual position of publisher and patron, inspiring a new impetus towards entrepreneurship for the composer.86 This spirit of entrepreneurialism was fueled by the composer’s need to solicit the services of publishers; towards the end of the eighteenth century, publishers were approached by composers more frequently with appeals to include their works in their shop catalogues.87 Giuliani’s relationships with his publishers, however, were also defined by the commissions he received from them. Giuliani’s productive relationship with Artaria began in 1810 when the publisher commissioned him to write a series of vocal works with guitar or piano accompaniment. This series would yield twelve song books, each with four to five songs published over the course of nine years, eventually becoming Giuliani’s WoO-vocal 3, Le Troubadour du Nord.88 In 1810 Artaria also commissioned Giuliani to write a guitar method, which the publisher reserved as his op.1 and released two years later.

Giuliani’s correspondence with Domenico Artaria reveals that he was on good terms with the publisher, who continued to handle some of Giuliani’s publishing matters even after the guitarist left Vienna in 1819. While much of Giuliani’s surviving correspondence with Artaria documents

83 Green, “Music’s First Consumers: Publishers in the Late Eighteenth Century,” 14. 84 Ibid., 19. 85 Ibid., 23-24. 86 Ibid., 17. 87 Ibid. 88 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location, 1339.

27 his life after he left Vienna, the letters nevertheless demonstrate the nature of the friendship that developed between the two, and Giuliani remained in communication with Artaria even in the months leading up to his death. While in Venice on November 20, 1819, Giuliani wrote to Artaria about the personal and financial hardships he was experiencing as a performer. This letter, which does not mention any of the business dealings he had with Artaria at the time, is more personal in nature, and Giuliani is fairly candid:

Now here in Venice I believed myself to be in a city where at least (I flattered myself) I would earn a purse of a thousand francs, but the protestations of Sig. Perucchini terrify me. He tells me that “il Paganino” [Paganini] only sold 300 tickets at 3 francs, and that the famous Berman had to make it up from his own pocket; on the other hand Heaven is good to me, and come what may I am giving a concert—better wounded than dead…

Here, dear friend Domenico, is my plan, but it says in the proverb that man proposes and God disposes. Provided that I don’t have any health impediments, it ought to work out. May the departure for Vienna be hastened and permit me to embrace you before we get separated too much…

P.S. Answer with a long, long letter, and don’t be so stingy!89

While Heck aptly notes that this letter highlights the discouraging state of the concert culture in Italy in 1819, it also serves to underscore the friendly nature of Giuliani’s dealings with Artaria, as the composer and publisher were clearly friends outside of their business relationship. In this letter, Giuliani reveals his frustrations and concerns regarding the musical opportunities in Italy and the seemingly unavoidable financial hardship that will follow his failed Italian tour. He also, interestingly, alludes to health issues that might jeopardize his performance plans, an admission that, as Heck notes, may mark the beginning of the health problems that lead to Giuliani’s demise ten years later.90 This friendship with Artaria, then, undoubtedly contributed to Giuliani’s productivity in Vienna and afterwards, and it seems to have been one of the most positive business relationships he forged during his career.

89 Ibid., location 2987. Translated by Thomas Heck. 90 Ibid., location 3019.

While in Vienna, Giuliani also had dealings with Anton Diabelli91 and Pietro Cappi of Cappi and Diabelli, another prominent Viennese publishing firm. Compared to the Artaria firm, Cappi and Diabelli were a relatively new publisher in Vienna, publishing their first works in 1818 after Diabelli enlisted the support of Cappi, then an art dealer, to start a publishing business with a storefront. Using his experience as a composer, Diabelli had previously been working as a proof- reader for Steiner and Co., and this work became a point of entry for his career in music publishing.92 Diabelli handled the publication of works by several of Vienna’s most notable composers. Though Diabelli is often readily associated with Beethoven because of the latter’s op.120 Diabelli Variations, the publisher was more actively involved in publishing Franz Schubert’s works, especially prior to 1824 (after which they were no longer on good terms).93 Diabelli’s publishing career lasted until his retirement in 1854, following several reconfigurations in the firm’s structure and partners, as well as thousands of works published.

Though Giuliani had a longstanding business and personal relationship with Domenico Artaria, his relationship with Cappi and Diabelli was less amicable, marked by a disagreement regarding payment for a set of variations they solicited from him in 1819. Giuliani believed that the publishers did not provide him with enough compensation for his op. 99 introduction and variations on the Austrian folk song, “Das ist alles eins,” accusing them of taking advantage of his dire financial situation and consequent eagerness to publish his works.94 It is through the composer’s correspondence with Artaria that we know about the discord between Giuliani and Cappi and Diabelli, as Giuliani refers to Artaria’s rivals as “…two super-braggarts who pride themselves on having the best music store in Vienna…” and who “…deserve not only my disdain, but also celestial revenge.”95 However, despite his mistrust of the publishing duo, and perhaps as a result of his desire to publish as much as possible after leaving Vienna, Giuliani did publish several works with Cappi and Diabelli between 1819 and 1824. Heck is reticent regarding the circumstances surrounding the above-cited letter to Artaria, but Riboni suggests

91 Diabelli was also one of Vienna’s more prominent guitarists prior to Giuliani’s arrival. Though not as virtuosic as Giuliani, Diabelli and Giuliani may have regarded each other as rivals, which could have contributed to their tense business relations. See Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 2894. 92 Alexander Weinmann and John Warrack, "Diabelli, Anton," Grove Music Online, 2001. 23 Jan. 2019. http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo- 9781561592630-e-0000007710. 93Ibid. 94 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 2894. 95 Quoted in Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 2879. Translated by Thomas Heck.

29 that Giuliani’s admission to Artaria about his dealings with Cappi and Diabelli was meant to inspire competition between the rival publishers while expressing his regret at having entertained the offers of the latter pair.96 Giuliani also admits to Artaria that Cappi and Diabelli were hoping to reprint his popular op.119 Rossiniana no.1, which had been a very successful piece for Artaria since he began selling it in 1822. Riboni reveals that during this time, Giuliani was also dealing with Ricordi in Milan, to whom he sold many of his works between op.107 and 118, a fact that he intentionally neglected to tell Artaria.97 The complex nature of Giuliani’s dealings with his publishers demonstrates that while the guitarist may have remained on friendly terms with Domenico Artaria, his instincts as a businessman—especially when faced with financial hardship—ultimately took precedence over any sense of personal loyalty he may have felt.

While Giuliani’s relationships with his publishers had a significant impact on the dissemination of his printed music, his collaborations with Vienna’s other prominent instrumental virtuosi actively shaped his public persona and his reception as a performer. Giuliani frequently performed with Ignaz Moscheles, Johann Nepomuk Hummel, and Joseph Mayseder in a variety of concert settings ranging from larger, public virtuoso concerts, to the more intimate, invitation- only gatherings of Giuliani’s wealthy acquaintances. Like Giuliani, Hummel, Moscheles, and Mayseder had diverse music careers in Vienna, variously teaching, performing, and composing as independent musicians.

The careers of Giuliani’s frequent collaborators not only exemplify the variable life of the professional musician in early nineteenth-century Vienna, but they provide a window into the range of Giuliani’s musical activities and the concert culture in which he was a participant. For example, Hummel’s early nineteenth-century concert tours represent the types of responsibilities undertaken by the independent musician out of necessity. Touring musicians of the mid- nineteenth century often enjoyed the benefits of being managed by former impresarios and concert agents, but the independent musicians of Giuliani’s time were self-managing. Concert tour matters were handled almost exclusively by the performer, who often received some help with finding lodging from the musical community he was visiting.98 Hummel’s 1825 tour of

96 Riboni, Mauro Giuliani, 208. 97 Ibid., 209. 98 William Weber, “From the Self-Managing Musician to the Independent Concert Agent,” in The Musician as Entrepreneur, 1700-1914: Managers, Charlatans, and Idealists, ed. William Weber (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2004), 107.

England was managed solely by the pianist himself, though he received some help from his publisher with advertising. Preparing far in advance of Hummel’s arrival on English soil, publisher Maurice Schlesinger placed concert ads in English newspapers and magazines months before the start of the tour. Yet the ads were written by Hummel, who also sold the concert tickets from his rooms while on tour.99 Despite the great lengths to which Hummel and Schlesinger went in order to place the newspaper ads ahead of time, William Weber notes that the role such media played in garnering attention for a touring musician at this period should not be exaggerated. In the first half of the nineteenth century, newspaper ads and the like merely helped a touring musician to reinforce their tightly knit network of contacts, rather than exposing them to potential new connections.100

While Hummel’s concert tours reflect the types of responsibilities that Giuliani, too, would have taken on as a self-managing musician, the reception of Ignaz Moscheles serves to represent the kind of virtuoso culture in which Giuliani was a participant—a culture which varied greatly from the mid-nineteenth-century virtuoso craze associated with Franz Liszt. By 1800 Moscheles, along with pianists like Friedrich Kalkbrenner and Carl Czerny, represented a new generation of keyboard players whose performance style would shape the virtuosic demonstrations of their mid-nineteenth-century counterparts. For musicians like Moscheles, pianistic ability was evaluated in terms of the player’s treatment of the melodic line, and their ability to bring out the line’s singing quality.101 This songfulness, or song-like quality, was one of the tenets of the Leipzig School of piano playing to which famous keyboard virtuosi like Moscheles subscribed. Despite the focus on the fortepiano’s potential for producing singing melodic lines, Moscheles’s playing was also admired for its speed, precision, full tone, and expressivity.102 Eventually, vocal quality in combination with technical bravura became essential components of the virtuosic pianoforte performance.103 One writer for the Prager Zeitung remarked of Moscheles’s 1817 performance at the Redoutensaal that the young virtuoso “…points to the future for most pianists through power and vivacity, with fire and precision combined, and his velocity is so uncanny,

99 Ibid., 110. 100 Ibid. 101 Mark Kroll, Ignaz Moscheles and the Changing World of Musical Europe (Woodbridge, Suffolk: Boydell Press, 2014), 161. 102Ibid., 158. 103 Katalin Komlos, “After Mozart: The Viennese Piano Scene in the 1790s,” Studia Musicologica 49, no. 1–2 (2008): 48.

31 that our eyes cannot even follow his fingers.”104 The admiration of songfulness in addition to technical skill highlights one of the differences between early and mid-nineteenth-century virtuoso culture, as the latter placed greater emphasis on the player’s unnatural technical skill, escalating the figure of the virtuoso to celebrity status.

Unlike Hummel and Moscheles, Joseph Mayseder did not perform outside Vienna; however, he was very active in multiple aspects of Viennese musical life, frequently performing as a soloist and chamber player. Mayseder’s performance career was defined by his appearances in private settings. As a teenaged virtuoso, he played in Ignaz Schuppanzigh’s string quartet, often performing for Beethoven’s patrons and establishing himself in private music circles by 1802.105 Mayseder’s musical status was further established by the leadership roles the violinist occupied in Vienna’s foremost musical institutions. Throughout his career, Mayseder was the head of the Hoftheater orchestra, director of the Hofkapelle, and a player in the Stephansdom orchestra, playing a visible role in court-related musical endeavours.106 Like Giuliani, Mayseder also published numerous original works, many of which were meant for his own performances, the most notable among these pieces being his seven string quartets and three violin concertos. However, his focus on composition for his own performances suggests that he was not as engaged with the amateur market as Giuliani was, a decision that was likely inspired by his desire to appear primarily as a professional soloist, which he became more adamant about as his career in Vienna progressed.107 It is perhaps because of his refusal to play in particular settings that Mayseder did not perform outside of Vienna. As a 1863 obituary in London’s The Musical World notes, Mayseder represented, “… a specimen of true artistic worth, and, at the same time, a portion of that old Vienna, partly genial, and partly snobbish…”.108 While his focus on local performances set him apart from Giuliani, Hummel, and Moscheles—a focus that was likely enabled by the developed nature of his own professional network—Mayseder’s career

104 Prager Zeitung (February 14, 1817): 45. Translated by Mark Kroll. 105 John Rutter, "Mayseder, Joseph," Grove Music Online (2001). Accessed 27 Jan. 2019. http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo- 9781561592630-e-0000018183. 106 Ibid. 107 "JOSEPH MAYSEDER," The Musical World 41, no. 49 (Dec 05, 1863): 781. http://myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/login?url=https://search-proquest- com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/docview/7628298?accountid=14771. 108 Ibid.

32 nevertheless exemplifies the range of performance of opportunities available to professional musicians within Vienna itself.

1.8 Toward a New Perspective on Early Nineteenth-Century Vienna

While Giuliani’s music today represents the pinnacle of early nineteenth-century writing for the guitar—his chord voicings, treatment of voices, and types of musical figures reveal a superior understanding of the instrument and its capabilities—his music is not well known outside the world of classical guitar performance. His figure is often positioned in a heroic narrative of a virtually unknown guitarist from Naples moving to Vienna to win the hearts of Viennese audiences while developing a style of classical guitar music that would serve as foundation for guitarist-composers in the mid and late nineteenth century. He is known as a guitarist of unparalleled skill and a ground-breaking composer of multiple guitar concerti, and also known anecdotally as a cellist in the premiere of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony, and as the Empress Marie Louise’s Official Chamber Virtuoso. However, I believe that the most telling aspects of Giuliani’s career and compositions may lie in the more intimate, smaller-scale events and interactions of his time in Vienna, because they not only reveal much about Giuliani as a composer and performer, but they highlight unexplored aspects of the musical activity in early nineteenth-century Vienna.

This reconceptualization of Giuliani’s position in Vienna’s music culture is meant to inspire a reconsideration of the position of the guitar and guitarist-composers within the narrative of nineteenth-century music history, a reconsideration that does not necessarily position the guitar and its proponents as solitary heroic figures working and triumphing against a dominant music culture. At the same time, current conceptualizations of music history and the canon can be enriched by considering the vantage points offered to us by instruments like the guitar and lesser- known musical figures like Mauro Giuliani.

Chapter 2 Giuliani and the Congress of Vienna: Musical Representations of Power and Politics 2.1 Introduction

Giuliani’s thirteen-year sojourn in Vienna was punctuated in 1814–1815 by the Congress of Vienna, one of the most significant events in the history of diplomatic relations in the West. Yet biographies of the composer’s life overlook the significance of this event for his career. The goal of this chapter, then, is to insert Giuliani and his music into this milieu, and to present an alternative narrative of musical culture surrounding the Congress of Vienna through the lens of Giuliani’s career, while exploring the political implications of Congress-related music more broadly. Analyzing the intersections between the Congress’s political mandate and Giuliani’s own activities highlights some of the unexplored aspects of the Congress celebrations. Unlike Beethoven, Giuliani was not known to be an overtly political composer, and his involvement in Congress-related performances does not seem to have been politically motivated. However, Giuliani was astutely aware of the opportunities available to him in producing Congress-related goods, and he harnessed the popularity of some of the dominant trends in this celebratory market to his advantage.

Thomas Heck’s work on Giuliani chronicles the guitarist’s performances during the Congress, but does not analyze the way Giuliani’s Congress-related performances fit into Vienna’s music culture at a time when music was being used to communicate the political goals of the Congress, as well as the values of the emerging Austrian state. Both the political significance of the Congress of Vienna and the use of music during Congress celebrations have been explored in depth in recent studies.1 However, with Giuliani as a vantage point, surveying this momentous event in the history of diplomacy offers a new perspective on the range of cultural activities that were associated with the Congress. In particular, Giuliani’s narrative touches on the small-scale and the private, offering insight into the less mainstream and less canonical aspects of Vienna’s

1 See Elisabeth Hilscher, “Festivities and Music at the Time of the Congress of Vienna,” in Europe in Vienna: The Congress of Vienna 1814/15, ed. Agnes Husslein-Arco, Sabine Grabner, and Werner Telesko (Munchen: Hirmer, 2015), 287–91; Brian E. Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History: Civil Society and Politics in the Habsburg Empire at the End of the Wars Against Napoleon,” Austrian History Yearbook 46 (2015): 109–33, doi:10.1017/S0067237814000137; Brian E. Vick, The Congress of Vienna: Power and Politics after Napoleon (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2014).

33 34 music culture at the beginning of the nineteenth century. His involvement in some of the more private aspects of the Congress does mean, however, that the exact nature of many of his activities is not well documented. Eyewitness accounts of his performances during the Congress do not always clearly outline what pieces he played, who was in attendance, or how audiences received the performances. Similarly, details of Giuliani’s participation in Vienna’s vibrant salon culture during the period of the Congress –– which is almost a given in light of his prior activity in that sphere –– are not documented at all. What is known about Giuliani’s public activities during the Congress of Vienna is his involvement in the small, but public, ducat concerts, which could be attended for the price of one ducat, and also the private concerts at the Schönbrunn Palace gardens for Count Palffy. In addition to his activities as a performer, the pieces he published in 1814–1815 seem to have been intended to take advantage of the market for Congress memorabilia.

Such memorabilia, while seeming trivial, offer glimpses into the types of cooperation—both political and musical—that were being enacted during the Congress, while providing the general public with souvenirs by which to remember the event. A souvenir of Giuliani’s participation of the Congress, to which I will return later in this chapter, is the title page engraving of Hummel’s op. 63 and 66 Grandes Serenades en Potpourri. This engraving depicts Giuliani and his collaborators engaged in their own type of musical conversation while performing at Count Palffy’s evening concerts in the Schönbrunn Palace gardens. It serves not only as a visual depiction of the political goals the Congress was espousing, made available for public consumption, but also as a commemoration of the performance itself for those who were in attendance. Giuliani’s performances in the Schönbrunn gardens, though private, embodied the same type of political engagement as their large-scale counterparts. Thus, while he may not have been overtly politically engaged, his ability to tap into this market demonstrates a keen understanding of the political values of the Congress. Although music, as “entertainment,” was associated with some of the more frivolous activities that took place during the Congress, both large- and small-scale musical moments actually played an integral role in communicating the political goals of the Congress, as well as those of Austria itself.

2.2 Vienna 1814: The City of Many People

In the autumn of 1814, Europe turned its focus to Vienna as diplomats, aristocrats, intellectuals, and heads of state from around Europe convened in the city to participate in the discussions that would determine how power and territory would be redistributed in the wake of Napoleon’s defeat. With this influx of visitors, Vienna became not only the site of significant political discussions that would affect European diplomatic relations for the rest of the nineteenth century, but also a locus of cultural displays of power via public and private music making. These celebrations were a truly significant part of the Congress of Vienna, providing a sonic backdrop to diplomatic discussions and the communication of political ideas.2 While large-scale public performances were geared towards displaying images of power via patriotism for an emerging Austrian state,3 private functions like salons served as venues for disseminating information and exchanging political ideas among Congress attendees within an atmosphere of friendly debate and sociability.4 This combination of public and private music making and the communication of patriotic and Congress-related political messages formed an integral part of the cultural milieu in which Giuliani was a participant. Underlying these celebrations was the fundamental message of the Congress: that of cooperation and communication in order to attain long-term peace.

Within this atmosphere of celebration, international guests circulated within a thriving music culture underscored by significant political undertones. Giuliani was deeply engaged with this culture, both through performance and publishing. The Congress festivities offered Giuliani an opportunity to represent and contribute to the cultural power of his adopted home. His own status as a foreigner in Vienna, though always mitigated by the cosmopolitan reputation of the city, receded further into the background of his public persona as Vienna played host to visitors from around Europe, becoming a “City of Many People.”5 While this nickname accurately describes the welcoming atmosphere intentionally created by the city for the benefit of international visitors, it also reflects the positive attitude towards cultural diversity as a defining characteristic of a developing Austrian national identity at the beginning of the nineteenth century.

2 Brian E. Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History: Civil Society and Politics in the Habsburg Empire at the End of the Wars Against Napoleon,” Austrian History Yearbook 46 (2015): 132–133. 3 Ibid., 110–111. 4 Brian E. Vick, The Congress of Vienna: Power and Politics after Napoleon (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2014), 113. 5 Sebastian Hansen, “Begleitmusik: Der Wiener Kongress als Kulturelles Ereignis,” in Beethoven und der Wiener Kongress (1814/15): Bericht uber die Vierte New Beethoven Research Conference, Bonn, 10. Bis 12. September 2014, ed. Bernhard R. Appel (Bonn: Beethoven-Haus, 2016), 1.

The Vienna Congress promised to be the largest, and perhaps most unconventional, diplomatic event in European history. In accordance with the accepted notions of public law, all sovereigns, including lesser and would-be heads of state, were invited to participate in the “concert” politics that were proposed for the Congress; as such, many smaller states attended in hopes of gaining more territory.6 Two hundred states sent delegates to Vienna in the autumn of 1814; however, the politicians who had orchestrated Napoleon’s defeat were most strongly represented in the diplomatic discussions. Viscount Castlereagh and Prince Charles-Maurice Talleyrand-Périgord— once Napoleon’s most trusted advisor—represented England and France respectively, while King Frederick of Prussia and Tsar Alexander I of Russia were the only sovereigns to represent themselves.7 Presiding over the negotiations as the chair of the Congress and serving as Francis I’s representative was Prince Clemens von Metternich.

Though the celebrity status of some of the delegates, most notably Tsar Alexander, overshadowed the presence of representatives from smaller territories, these lesser-known representatives were hardly deterred from voicing their concerns regarding the future of Europe. Before the Congress began, very few people understood or could predict how negotiations would be conducted. Invitations to the Congress were circulated throughout Europe by means of newspaper advertisements, suggesting that anyone could travel to Vienna to express their position, regardless of their social or official status.8 Many self-appointed delegates made the journey to Vienna to promote their own interests, some of which were entrepreneurial in nature.9 The seemingly open format of the negotiations and the casual nature of the invitation were encouraging to people with little experience in politics, as they believed they had the right to attend the Congress and offer their contributions towards shaping a new Europe.10

The Congress’s primary goal of restoring balance within Europe involved a somewhat experimental approach to negotiation and restoration, as well as the fair treatment of France, the defeated party. Whereas previous post-war negotiations would have severely punished the

6 Mark Jarrett, The Congress of Vienna and its Legacy: War and Great Power Diplomacy after Napoleon (New York: I.B. Tauris and Co., 2013), 69. 7 David King, Vienna, 1814: How the Conquerors of Napoleon Made Love, War, and Peace at the Congress of Vienna (New York: Harmony Books, 2008), 3–5. 8 Ibid., 5. 9 Ibid., 8. 10 Ibid.

37 vanquished, the allies in 1814 did not force France to pay indemnities, nor were they compelled to restrict the size of their armed forces or to suffer the difficulties of foreign occupation.11 Though France did have to return many of the territories that were conquered during Napoleon’s reign, it was permitted to return to its pre-war size.12 This seemingly unexpected treatment of France was meant to encourage its peaceful reintegration into European society under the leadership of Louis XVIII and the restored Bourbon monarchy.13 The Congress’s novel approach to the redistribution of power and territory was owed, in part, to Metternich’s vision for a post- Napoleonic Europe. Though his fellow delegates criticized Metternich for being idle during the negotiations, many failed to see that he harboured a very singular view of how power should be redistributed.14 Metternich’s desire was to achieve a true balance of power in Europe, one that could provide security for Austria. Believing that territorial expansion would make Russia and Prussia far too powerful and potentially dangerous for the Austrian Empire, Metternich opposed both Alexander I’s desire to annex Poland and Prussia’s plans to take Saxony. Negotiations on the Poland-Saxony issue reached a deadlock, during which France, England, and Austria agreed to an alliance against Russia and Prussia on January 3, 1815.15 With the threat of war seeming imminent, Tsar Alexander I agreed to a compromise that gave Russia most of the Duchy of Warsaw while granting Prussia 40% of Saxony, granting both countries portions of the territory they desired while keeping in check their ability to fully unite their territories.16

Though few of the parties involved in the negotiations were fully satisfied with the negotiated outcomes by the time the final documents were signed in June of 1815,17 remarkably, no wars occurred between the great European powers in the post-Congress decades from 1815–1854. Indeed, despite the threat of war between negotiators during the process, the order and territorial redistribution that was ultimately established by the Congress remained in effect for a century.18 One of the ways the Congress intended to sustain long-lasting peace was through its plan to

11 Ibid., 6. 12 Ibid. 13 Ibid. 14 Stella Musulin, Vienna in the Age of Metternich: from Napoleon to Revolution, 1805-1848 (London: Faber and Faber, 1975), 150. 15 Alan Sked, Metternich and Austria: An Evaluation (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), 51. 16 Ibid. 17 Brigitte Mazohl, “Winners and Losers in the New European Order. The Congress of Vienna as Pioneer of Modern Power Politics,” in Europe in Vienna: The Congress of Vienna 1814/15, ed. Agnes Husslein-Arco, Sabine Grabner, and Werner Telesko (München: Hirmer, 2015), 53. 18 Musulin, Vienna in the Age of Metternich, 190.

38 improve diplomatic relations within Europe by encouraging “concert” politics. As a modern political term, the notion of a “concert of nations” has been defined by Damien Mahiet as “a voluntary relation of cooperation between powers.”19 The desire for peace following the Napoleonic Wars motivated European powers to adhere to the notion of a Concert of Europe, avoiding aggressive foreign politics in favour of a balance of power between sovereign states to preserve the long-awaited peace they all desired.20

As far as it applies to the performance of music with political undertones, the idea of a concert of nations has origins that stretch as far back as the seventeenth century.21 According to Mahiet, “the concert of nations turns sonorous coexistence into a space of representation, discourse, and performance where musical subjects elaborate a concept of international coexistence.”22 Though its main function was to ratify the proposed territorial reconstructions, the Congress was also an aristocratic cultural celebration of the end of the Napoleonic Wars. One hundred thousand visitors flocked to Vienna to partake in the Congress’s social events, for which the financially- troubled Habsburg monarchy spared no expense.23 Originally meant to last for six months, the timeline of the Congress was ultimately extended for another three months by numerous celebrations.24 Seemingly frivolous and superficial to some, concerts, dances and musical performances did indeed shape the Congress’s concert politics, for they served as informal sites of diplomatic communication and alternative venues for pursuing political agendas. In some cases, the music played during the Congress of Vienna served as a symbol of international harmony, which also structured European sociability.25 Sociability played an important role in the negotiations that took place during the Congress, not only because political agreements and discussions took place in the more intimate settings of the salon and the smaller public concert, but also because these settings allowed those not directly involved in negotiations to glean information regarding the topics of debate.

19 Damien Mahiet, “The Concert of Nations: Music, Political Thought, and Diplomacy in Europe, 1600s-1800s ” (Ph.D. diss., Cornell University, 2011), 5. 20 Richard B. Elrod, “The Concert of Europe: A Fresh Look an International System,” World Politics 28/2 (Jan. 1976): 159. 21 As a fictional sphere of international relations, some examples of seventeenth-century ballet des nations, operas, dance suites, and song collections had the power to inform diplomatic initiatives by addressing national, international, and transnational issues. See Mahiet, “The Concert of Nations,” 5. 22 Mahiet, “The Concert of Nations,” 191. 23 Ibid., 95. 24 King, Vienna 1814, 2. 25 Mahiet, “The Concert of Nations,” 12.

As the Congress of Vienna commenced in the fall of 1814, the cosmopolitanism of the city was emphasized to make it more inviting to its guests. Bürgerstadt Wien—as it was known—played host to diplomats, royalty, intellectuals, and Europe’s social and cultural elite in a diplomatic exercise that Metternich called “Europe without distances.”26 The treatment of foreign guests as citizens of Vienna reflects a growing awareness of concepts of citizenship in early nineteenth- century Vienna, which was likely the result of the lawful transformation in status of Austria’s subjects into citizens in the late eighteenth century –– a context to which I will return for further discussion below.27

2.3 Public Music Celebrations at the Congress of Vienna

Mainstream musicological accounts of the Congress of Vienna festivities tend to privilege the vantage point of the large-scale public events. These monumental spectacles functioned as a means of disseminating the Congress’s message of peace and cooperation and, in some cases, served to underscore distinctly Austrian political goals as well. One of the first and most significant patriotic events to take place during the Congress, which effectively demonstrates the nature of Austria’s growing patriotic expressions in the early nineteenth century, was the event held to commemorate Francis’s return to Vienna from Paris.28 This celebration was one of the largest public events, and a memorable spectacle for those in attendance. Preparations for the event began as early as January 1814, with Antonio Salieri taking responsibility for organizing the musicians and instruments needed for the upcoming festivities.29 The court’s direct ties with the event meant that high standards of taste, excellence, and organization had to be upheld to impress the foreign sovereigns at the festivities.30 Following the Emperor’s procession into the city, an allegorical play was presented. Combining folk imagery with a political message, the drama depicted the various people of Austria—distinctly dressed in folk costumes meant to

26 Vick, The Congress of Vienna: Power and Politics after Napoleon, 112. 27 Pieter M. Judson, The Habsburg Monarchy: A New History (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2016), 54. 28 Elisabeth Hilscher, “Festivities and Music at the Time of the Congress of Vienna,” in Europe in Vienna: The Congress of Vienna 1814/15, ed. Agnes Husslein-Arco, Sabine Grabner, and Werner Telesko (Munchen: Hirmer, 2015), 287. 29 Ibid. 30 Ibid., 288. Francis’s exacting standards for this event resulted in it being drastically over-budget.

40 represent diverse crownland identities—pledging their allegiance to the goddess of peace as she settles in Austria.31 Not only was this allegory meant to celebrate the Congress’s commitment to peace, but it also reveals the nature of Austria’s own emerging concepts of patriotism and citizenship.

Though special events like Francis’s return to Vienna were organized by the court, not all the large-scale celebrations that took place during the Congress were the result of court involvement. Whether by choice or because of Francis’s initial ambivalence towards popular patriotic campaigns, the organization of large-scale cultural expressions of patriotism often fell under the jurisdiction of local civic associations. Concerts that were held by civic associations to benefit soldiers and their families were increasingly viewed as patriotic events. Furthermore, patriotic music that was created or performed as part of associational life was viewed as having greater potential for political influence: its less superficial nature meant that it could affect Habsburg political life in a more meaningful way.32

Of the genres most easily associated with patriotic sentiments, large-scale choral music— particularly that of George Frideric Handel—was understood to be the most effective in representing the ideal community.33 During the Congress, several of Handel’s works were performed for political ends. These works, such as Samson and The Messiah, embody the “Handelian Sublime,” works written in a “serious style” that exemplify gigantism, monumentality, and authority.34 Nicholas Mathew argues that the political life in early nineteenth-century Vienna was defined by a distinctly Handelian sound, as monumental works by Handel as well as so-called “Handelian” works by Haydn—that is, those which were sublime in their grand scale—were often performed in public ceremonies alongside Beethoven’s most political works.35 Mathew suggests that the type of sublime being invoked in early nineteenth- century Vienna was more in line with the eighteenth-century rhetorically persuasive conception of the sublime than with romantic notions of sublimity.36 However, in the context of the

31 Judson, The Habsburg Monarchy: A New History, 97. 32 Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History: Civil Society and Politics in the Habsburg Empire at the End of the Wars Against Napoleon,” 118. 33 Nicholas Mathew, “Beethoven’s Political Music, the Handelian Sublime, and the Aesthetics of Prostration,” 19th- Century Music 33, no. 2 (2009): 111-112, doi:10.1525/ncm.2009.33.2.110. 34 Ibid., 112. 35 Ibid., 119. 36 Ibid., 112.

Congress of Vienna and other cultural displays of power that were being enacted, I believe that later eighteenth-century conceptions of the sublime as aestheticized power can also be plausibly applied to Viennese musical life at this time. And despite his claim, Mathew does highlight the fact that Viennese Handel revivals in the early nineteenth century demonstrate an increasing preoccupation with the strength of sound as Handel’s music became synonymous with power.37 While the large-scale musical celebrations of the Congress did not engage with the sublime as an oppressive or frightening power, acknowledging the significance of monumental sound and gigantic forces is crucial to understanding the dynamics of political power that were enacted during the Congress celebrations. Musical events and celebrations that were hosted by the Austrian government called upon large forces not just because they infused the event with the air of seriousness, but because monumental sound was readily associated with the political potency needed to push the Congress’s agenda.

Handel’s grand choral style, best exemplified by the state music he produced in England, provided an aesthetic model for Beethoven and other Napoleonic-era composers who wrote politicized choral works.38 Grouping monumental works together was the most impactful means of communicating political ideas and representing the idealized participation of the community. Such was the case for the Congress’s most frequently referenced performance of Beethoven’s Der glorreiche Augenblick, Wellingtons Sieg,39 and Symphony no. 7 in the Grosser Redoutensaal on November 29, 1814. Though not linked to any civic associations, this event was one of the most significant and successful benefit concerts to take place during the Congress. With the proceeds from the concert designated for donation to wounded Austrian and Bavarian soldiers, Wellingtons Sieg was part of a quintessentially patriotic musical demonstration.40 Not only did the performance benefit militiamen, but the scale and subject matter of the pieces

37 Ibid., 113. 38 Ibid., 111. 39 Wellingtons Sieg was commissioned by German inventor Johann Nepomuk Mälzel (1772-1838). Mälzel is best known for his music-related mechanical inventions, including the metronome, an ear trumpet used by Beethoven, and the panharmonicon, a mechanical orchestra. Wellingtons Sieg was initially meant to be performed by the panharmonicon, but a dispute between the composer and inventor regarding ownership of the battle symphony caused Beethoven to break his ties with Mälzel. See Alexander Wheelock Thayer and Dixie Harvey, "Maelzel, Johann Nepomuk," Grove Music Online, 2001. Accessed 16 Jul. 2019. https://www-oxfordmusiconline- com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo-9781561592630- e-0000017414. 40 Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History: Civil Society and Politics in the Habsburg Empire at the End of the Wars Against Napoleon,” 119.

42 contributed to the demonstration of Austrian power in the wake of Napoleon’s defeat. The participation of Vienna’s most prominent musical figures in the performance represented the strength of the city’s, and by extension the Empire’s, musical culture.

The music Beethoven produced during the Congress has been marginalized in scholarship and contemporary reception partly because of its supposed parodying of the heroic style; however, Nicholas Cook suggests that Wellingtons Sieg should be studied with respect to its literal meaning for early nineteenth-century listeners.41 Cook asserts that the battle symphony’s depiction of the sounds of conflict—which could be interpreted as lending the work a generic quality—contribute to its accessibility to contemporary listeners for whom battle was a frightening reality during the Napoleonic Wars.42 Combining Cook’s nineteenth-century view of Wellingtons Sieg through a more contemporary lens with Vick’s assertion that pieces like Beethoven’s Congress-related works were expressions of Austrian patriotism and power yields a productive framework for analyzing music that was written for and performed during the Congress of Vienna. The piece’s glorification of the allied victory, in conjunction with the display of Viennese cultural power—of which Beethoven, like Giuliani, was an adopted exponent—made the performance of Wellingtons Sieg a significant demonstration of Austrian strength at a time when the rest of Europe was watching and listening.

Beethoven’s contribution to large-scale expressions of patriotism during the Congress of Vienna also included vocal music. The premiere of his cantata Der glorreiche Augenblick had six thousand people in attendance. Among the audience were the Congress’s royal guests, for whom the performance was meant to be a welcoming event.43 However, the cantata also had a political function in representing not only the ideology of the Congress, but the voice of the people of Vienna.44 Esteban Buch views the chorus of the cantata as an embodiment of the voice of the people because of its “…invocation of the brotherhood of mankind… under the aegis of its rulers…”, simultaneously representing the political ideals of the Congress while giving voice to a

41 Nicholas Cook, “The Other Beethoven: Heroism, the Canon, and the Works of 1813–14,” 19th-Century Music 27, no. 1 (2003): 16, doi:10.1525/ncm.2003.27.1.3. Though Beethoven’s Congress-related works are some of his most popular, they have been viewed by posterity as his least valuable works in terms of artistic expression and their relationship to the “hero paradigm”; see Cook, 3-4. 42 Ibid., 16. 43 Ibid., 20. 44 Esteban Buch, trans. Richard Miller, Beethoven’s Ninth: A Political History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003), 85.

43 distinct people.45 For Brian Vick, the cantata’s representation of the Austrian people is geared more towards presenting a united people, as it “…offers an amalgamation of dynastic, national, and civic symbolism and identities on a somewhat populist base,” with Weissenbach’s text uniting the voices of Austria as one chorus.46

Large-scale Congress celebrations are better documented in terms of budget, attendees, and type of entertainment provided than smaller ones, but the significance of the latter, which took place in more remote parts of the Empire, should not be overlooked. These smaller events were often more spontaneous and were typically not funded by the government.47 Pieter M. Judson argues that their significance within the culture of patriotism in Austria is denoted by similarities in their approach to celebrating the end of the Napoleonic Wars.48 Accounts of festivities that took place in remote or rural parts of the Empire, such as those described in Joseph Rossi’s two-volume Denkbuch für Fürst und Vaterland (1814), had some celebratory practices in common despite taking place in locations that were far apart from one another.49 Though it is unlikely that the people across Austria were engaged in simultaneous acts of celebration as Rossi describes, the use of common songs, such as Haydn’s “Emperor’s” song (the national anthem), suggests a degree of unity in the Empire.50 Initially, Haydn was inspired to compose the “Emperor’s” song by “God Save the King,” which, since 1782, had been used by the Holy Roman Empire as a type of generic national anthem in response to “La Marseillaise.”51 Haydn’s melody for the new anthem achieved instant popularity, and contributed directly to the patriotic sentiments developing in the Austrian Empire in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.52 Judson asserts that the emergence of common culture between people in various parts of Austria had a legitimizing effect on the Empire, suggesting that the citizenry held a unified understanding of the Empire and the distinct cultural artifacts that embodied this idea.53

45 Ibid., 82. 46 Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History: Civil Society and Politics in the Habsburg Empire at the End of the Wars Against Napoleon,” 124. 47 Judson, The Habsburg Monarchy: A New History, 99. 48 Ibid., 44. 49 Ibid., 99. 50 Ibid. 51 Hugo Schmidt, “The Origin of the Austrian National Anthem,” in Austria in the Age of the French Revolution (Minneapolis: Centre for Austrian Studies, University of Minnesota, 1990), 164–166. 52 Ibid., 172. 53 Judson, The Habsburg Monarchy: A New History, 99.

Given the popularity and ubiquity of musical forms of patriotism before and during the Congress of Vienna, it is important to consider the significance of these displays of power to the ongoing political discussions at the time. Recent scholarship on the Congress suggests that these musical events could have some bearing on the way Austria was perceived by other European powers by affecting what the Empire could gain over the course of negotiations. Vick asserts that the display of wealth of power that was inherent in these patriotic events played a role in influencing the Congress’s political discussions to favour Austrian interests within the goals of the Congress more generally.54

2.4 Giuliani at the Vienna Congress

While current scholarship on the Congress of Vienna has thoroughly investigated the political implications and power of musical performances, this picture of Congress festivities is incomplete without a study of small-scale and private events. Giuliani’s performances were less monumental than those of Beethoven, but are nonetheless reflective of similar political goals. Themes of cooperation and conversation pervade his performances in the ducat concerts and the Schönbrunn evening serenades, while his publications allude to burgeoning patriotic sentiments. Giuliani’s position within Vienna’s music culture by 1814 was already solidified, for by this time he had been concertizing and publishing in the city for eight years, and was fully integrated into several aspects of Viennese social and cultural life. In addition to his professional and personal associations with musical figures such as Johann Nepomuk Hummel, Ignaz Moscheles, and Joseph Mayseder, Giuliani was also the Honorary Chamber Virtuoso of Napoleon’s second wife, Archduchess Marie Louise (1791–1847), a title that likely helped him to secure some prestigious performance opportunities.55 Giuliani’s primary performances during the Congress were part of the ducat concerts, small public concerts held in private homes, which patrons could attend for

54 Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History: Civil Society and Politics in the Habsburg Empire at the End of the Wars Against Napoleon,” 133. 55 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 1552. Giuliani’s ties with the most prominent virtuosi in Vienna went beyond his professional association with them as performing musicians. Along with Moscheles and Mayseder, Giuliani was a member of what would become the Ludlamshöhle, a secret society which met to discuss arts and literature as well as play pranks on each other. See Heck, Mauro Giuliani: a Life for the Guitar, location 1903.

45 the price of one ducat.56 These concerts, though held in small venues, were known for showcasing the newest and most promising composers and performers, some of whom, such as the nine-year-old guitar virtuoso Franziska Bolzmann, made their public debuts in these forums.57 Virtuosi based in Vienna were particularly popular amongst the visitors to the city who favoured Vienna’s musicians over those from other countries.58 Because of their semi-private nature—they were structured much like private house concerts with the exception of the entrance fee—there are no surviving programs or reviews of the ducat concerts.59 This slightly more private setting, however, places Giuliani in the more sociable aspects of the Congress celebrations. The ducat concerts in particular provided musicians and attendees with an opportunity to engage in conversation and, in the case of the musicians, to make professional connections that would benefit their careers.60 Given the types of opportunities that were available to him through the connections he had made prior to the Congress, it is not unlikely that the conversations Giuliani took part in during the ducat concerts could result in commissions, performances, or new students. For musicians without the renown needed to be invited to perform at the ducat concerts, similar opportunities could be set up if they found their own space. Louis Spohr, for example, was not invited to participate in the ducat concerts, but he hosted a concert in his own home that led to increased exposure for his music among the foreign diplomats visiting Vienna, and encouragement from his audience to compose more works for string quartet which he debuted at subsequent house concerts.61

As part of the series of ducat concerts in the spring of 1815, Giuliani played in a trio with Hummel and Mayseder after they had each performed a selection of solo pieces. The finale of the concert, a trio arrangement of the French romance “La Sentinelle,” was later described by Eduard Hanslick in Geschichte des Concertwesens in Wien as a “major triumph,” because the song was:

56 Otto Biba, “The Congress of Vienna and Music,” in Denmark and the Dancing Congress of Vienna: Playing for Denmark’s Future, Ole Villumsen Krog, ed. (Exhibition catalogue, Christiansborg Palace: Copenhagen, 2002), 212. 57 Ibid, 208. 58 Ibid. 59 Ibid., 212. 60 The career-related implications of Giuliani’s involvement with the concert series, as opposed to single performances, is explored in greater depth in Chapter 2. 61 Ibid.

Arranged by Hummel in such a way that each of the three instruments [guitar, violin, and fortepiano] would be allotted its brilliant variation. This “Sentinelle” was succeeded by “Der Troubadour,” also a French romance arranged in the same way. Later the attraction of these fashionable numbers was increased still further by having some popular vocalist…sing the romance.62

“La Sentinelle” or “The Patriot Bard” was a popular song during the Congress,63 written in 1810 by Alexandre Choron, a French composer, publisher, and writer on music.64 Though not considered folksongs in the traditional sense, older romances harboured associations with the growing folk ethos of the early nineteenth century, in that they were adapted and adopted by common people although their origins were written and not “common.”65 Though Thomas Heck does not consider the political meaning behind this performance of “La Sentinelle,” the ducat concert showcase of a series of popular French romances arranged for three instruments supports the idea that the concert was strategically programmed in order to convey the Congress’s message through music. This kind of strategic programming was especially significant when nobles and other political figures were in attendance. Furthermore, the fact that the arrangement of “La Sentinelle” featured the fortepiano, violin, and guitar in such a way that allowed for each instrument to be heard and showcased through textural changes—despite the guitar’s perceived acoustic deficiencies in comparison to the others—is interesting in its symbolic representation of the Congress’s mandate of cooperation and conversation. While Hummel is credited as the arranger of this rendition of “La Sentinelle”—it is his op.71—Giuliani and Mayseder were, in fact, co-arrangers for the piece, each making their own contributions to the parts for their respective instruments as well as to the instrumental variations that follow each stanza of the text.

Variation 1 is attributed to Giuliani in the original score for Hummel’s op. 71, published by Steiner in 1815. Compared to the other two variations in the piece, Giuliani’s Variation 1

62 Eduard Hanslick, Geschichte des Concertwesens in Wien, I (Vienna, 1869), 215–216. Translated by Thomas Heck. 63 “La Sentinelle” was an extremely popular romance in the nineteenth century, and it was well-known across Europe and even in North America. See Matanya Ophee, “Who Wrote ‘La Sentinelle’?” Soundboard 8/2 (1981): 77- 78. 64 Arthur Hutchings and Hervé Audéon. "Choron, Alexandre." Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Oxford University Press, accessed October 11, 2016, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/subscriber/article/grove/music/05680. 65 Jack Sage, et al. "Romance." Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Oxford University Press, accessed October 11, 2016, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/subscriber/article/grove/music/23725.

Example 2.1 Variation 1 from Hummel’s op. 71.

showcases the range and idiomatic capabilities of the guitar to a greater degree, giving him the opportunity to display his virtuosic abilities in performance, as well as his superior knowledge of the guitar as a composer. The triplet slurs and dramatic runs up and down the fretboard (Example 2.1) are a departure from the dotted rhythms and martial nature of the song’s original theme, and are reminiscent of the guitarist’s solo variation sets; however, this variation functions merely as a brief showcase of Giuliani’s technical abilities. To avoid privileging the guitar over the other instruments, Variation 2 assigns it a more accompanimental role, and it is absent from variation 3. This attempt at balancing the voices of the different instruments, despite their differences in volume and timbre, is representative of a type of musical cooperation enacted in performance. As Hanslick noted, each of the instruments was brilliantly showcased, and even in print, each of the

48 virtuosi was given credit for his variation despite the initial published attribution of the piece to Hummel.

In the context of Giuliani’s performances with Hummel and Mayseder, “La Sentinelle” serves the dual purpose of representing the Congress’s cooperation with France, as well as embodying nascent concepts of nationhood and homeland in the Austrian Empire. To complement the musicians’ symbolic arrangement of the popular melody, the text of the song describes a valorous singing soldier standing guard at night over a French military camp: L’astre des nuits de son paisible éclat, lançoit des feux sur les tentes de France non loin du Camp un jeune et beau soldat ainsi chantoit, appuyé sur sa lance: allez volez Zéphir joyeux portez mes chants vers ma patrie, dites que je veille en ces lieux, dites que je veille en ces lieux pour la gloire, et pour mon amie;66

The star of the nights of its peaceful brilliance, launched its fires on the tents of France not far from Camp a young and handsome soldier sang thus, leaning on his spear: go fly merry zephir carry my songs to my homeland, say that I look after these places, say that I look after these places for glory, and for my friend;

The text of “La Sentinelle” is replete with imagery commonly associated with military endeavours during the Napoleonic Wars, namely the homeland, the valorous soldier, and the enemy. While the text makes clear references to France as the “homeland,” the imagery of the text was also common in soldiers’ songs in the Austrian Empire. The adaptability of the song, an aspect which I believe is supported by the inclusion of the text in both French and German in the subsequent publication of the arrangement, suggests that “La Sentinelle” functioned as a celebration of the French military and the Austrian military, serving as a musical representation of the Congress’s fair treatment of France, as well as a type of musical patriotism that was pervasive in the emerging Austrian state.

66 Mauro Giuliani, The Complete Works in Facsimiles of the Original Editions, vol. 38, edited by Brian Jeffrey (London: Tecla Editions, 1984).

Early nineteenth-century patriotic movements in the Habsburg Empire used songs to celebrate the bravery of soldiers and bolster support for the war effort. After suffering several defeats by Napoleon’s troops, Francis II attempted to cultivate an emotional attachment to the “Fatherland” to boost morale and ensure the population’s investment in the war effort.67 One of the mandates of this campaign was to foster a stronger identification with and responsibility for the Empire, a goal which was, in part, achieved by the creation of the “People’s Militia”.68 The militia, or Landwehr, became an important symbol of the unity of the Austrian people. It represented their commitment to defending all regions of the Empire and the sacrifice of the common people, not just on the behalf of their rulers but on behalf of themselves.69

The sacrifice of the militiaman was a plight the people of all Austria’s regions could identify with, and it was the figure of the militiaman that was celebrated in patriotic memorabilia and other cultural artifacts. Of particular significance to early nineteenth-century patriotism in Austria was the collection of songs entitled Lieder oesterreichischer Wehrmänner (1809), compiled and edited by poet and dramatist Heinrich von Collin (1771–1811) and published during the 1809 patriotic campaign led by Count Stadion.70 The collection is noteworthy not only because of its celebration of the militiaman as an identifiable hero, but also because of its clear avoidance of German nationalist rhetoric, as the word Deutsch does not appear in the collection.71 Rather than conveying nationalist sentiments, the preface to the collection celebrates the bravery of the Landwehr in facing enemies of the state.72 Thematically, “La Sentinelle” shares some similarities with the songs of Heinrich von Collin’s collection. For example, the song “Wehrmannsluft” in Collin’s collection also features the image of the singing soldier and the identification of a glorious homeland, which in this case is Austria. The song also places the soldier in a role of responsibility for the safety of the country:

Singe durch Feld und Wald,

67 Judson, The Habsburg Monarchy: A New History, 92. Overall, Emperor Francis was opposed to popular forms of patriotism, fearing that, given enough support, they would become difficult to control. However, after being defeated by Napoleon in 1793, 1799, and 1805, Francis began to support the use of patriotic propaganda to bolster support for the newly-formed Austrian state. See Judson, The Habsburg Monarchy: A New History, 92. 68 Ibid. 69 Ibid. 70 Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History: Civil Society and Politics in the Habsburg Empire at the End of the Wars Against Napoleon,” 127. 71 Ibid. 72 Heinrich von Collin, Lieder Oesterreichischer Wehrmänner (Brünn, 1809), 3.

Das es von Bergen hallt: herrliches Oesterreich, “Was kommt dir gleich?” Als ob das ganze Land Läg’ nun in meiner hand,

Sing through the field and the forest, so that it echoes from mountains: wonderful Austria, what will happen to you soon? As if the whole country lay now in my hand.73

Thematic similarities between “La Sentinelle” and the songs of the Austrian Landwehrmann suggest that Giuliani’s performance of “La Sentinelle” with Hummel and Mayseder drew not only on the popularity of that particular romance throughout Europe, but also on the patriotic sentiments associated with the figure of the militiaman in the Austrian Empire.

The series of six ducat concerts that Giuliani participated in during the spring of 1815 led to other significant performance opportunities for the guitarist and his circle of friends. Upon hearing the virtuosi perform in the ducat concerts, Count Ferdinand Palffy (1774-1840) invited them to perform at another series of six private evening serenades held outdoors in the botanical gardens of Schönbrunn Palace.74 Unlike the ducat concerts, these evening serenades were invitation-only events, and Giuliani and his frequent collaborators seem to have been the only performers. Giuliani’s association with Palffy had begun before the Congress, as he gave the count guitar lessons in 1812/1813 and even dedicated his op. 39 Sei Cavatine to him.75 Descriptions of Count Palffy’s evening concerts in the spring of 1815 from Moscheles’s diary list Mayseder, the cellist Merck, Hummel, and Giuliani as the performers in these evening concerts. However, the musicians were not the only famous members of Viennese society at these performances, as Empress Marie-Louise—Francis’s daughter and Napoleon’s second wife—Archduke Rainer, and Archduke Rudolf all attended at least one if not multiple performances.76

The program for the evening serenades featured a mix of solo and ensemble pieces, again giving each musician an opportunity to showcase his abilities. Following an arrangement of the overture

73 Ibid., 22. 74 Thomas Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, Kindle Edition (GFA Refereed Publications, 2013), location 2015. 75 Ibid. 76 Ibid.

51 to Beethoven’s Fidelio, Mayseder played an original polonaise. Hummel’s Rondo was then presented with quartet accompaniment played by the other four instrumentalists. The titles of the solo pieces that Giuliani played for Count Palffy and his guests are unknown; however, he likely played his own compositions. These outdoor performances in the gardens at Schönbrunn are commemorated on the title page engraving of Hummel’s op. 63 and op. 66 Grandes Serenades en Potpourri for piano, violin, guitar, clarinet, and bassoon (Figure 2.1). These pieces, which received their inaugural performances during Count Palffy’s evening serenades, are dedicated to the Count and were published by Artaria in 1815. The title page depicts the five virtuosi performing in the Schönbrunn gardens, with Giuliani, Merck, Mayseder, and a flautist (most likely Stedlatscheck) surrounding Hummel who is seated at the piano.77 In this depiction, Giuliani is standing behind the piano with his guitar, which is likely supported by a strap made of ribbon. In his analysis of this engraving, Thomas Heck notes that this was a fairly common playing position for classical guitarists at the time, though guitarists are usually seated in modern performances.78 The engraving provides a visual representation of the musical cooperation that took place during these evening serenades. Similar to his arrangement of “La Sentinelle”, Hummel’s op. 63 and 66 serenades use variation form to allow each instrument a moment to emerge from the texture in a soloistic display before resuming an accompanimental role. The spirit of musical collaboration is represented by the attentiveness with which the musicians are playing with each other. They are huddled close together around Hummel’s piano, observing each other intently. Surrounded by the lush foliage of the Schönbrunn gardens, standing against the backdrop of the palace’s recognizable monument to Joseph II, this depiction of the five musicians makes for an impressive display which at once embodies the act of musical collaboration as well as the power of the Austrian Empire: the five virtuosi playing together in the moonlight as Joseph II—the first proponent of centralization and citizenship in the Austrian

77 Ibid., location 2048. 78 Ibid.

Empire—looks on. Such a performance was reminiscent of court spectacle, which had the power to represent the authority and legitimacy of the Empire.79

The representation of these musicians in the engraving is also reminiscent of visual depictions of peace negotiations that became popular during the Congress of Vienna. As Werner Telesko notes in his research on Congress-era iconography, the early nineteenth century saw a rise in depictions of peace that featured standing or sitting delegates engaged in dialogue, rather than more traditional Christianity-based iconography.80 The composition of the engraving of the five

Figure 2.1 Title page engraving from Hummel’s op.63 and 66 Grandes Serenades en Potpourri. musicians engaged in musical dialogue is similar to that of representations of the three sovereigns: Francis I, Tsar Alexander I, and Frederick William III. The image of the three rulers

79 Nicholas Mathew interprets the performances that took place at the Prater during the Congress of Vienna, some of which were treated in visual representations similar to that of the Schönbrunn concerts, vis-à-vis their heightened spectatorship. He argues that the pieces played at the Prater Festival created a new experience of public space which, while derived from more traditional, courtly representations of state power, was defined by its visible and active audience. See Nicholas Mathew, “Vienna, 18 October 1814: Urban Space and Public Memory in the Napoleonic ‘Occasional Melodrama,’” in The Melodramatic Moment: Music and Theatrical Culture, 1790-1820, ed. Katherine Hambridge and Jonathan Hicks (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2018), 171–89. 80 Werner Telesko, “The Visual ‘Afterlife’ of the Congress of Vienna,” in Europe in Vienna: The Congress of Vienna 1814/15, ed. Agnes Husslein-Arco, Sabine Grabner, and Werner Telesko (Munchen: Hirmer, 2015), 372.

53 in conversation was ubiquitous during the Congress, and it served as a representation of their loyalty to the goals of the Congress, as well as their union against Napoleon.81

Depictions of negotiations between the three rulers appeared not only in paintings and prints, but other Congress-related memorabilia such as medals and snuff boxes.82 While more work is needed to uncover the details of how these souvenirs were disseminated, Telesko argues that these items managed to reach a wide audience. They offered people a condensed representation of the events of the Congress, while solidifying the rulers as protagonists in the public’s visual memory.83 Media, such as the souvenirs that were available during the Congress, play a dynamic role in shaping collective memory. In their introduction to the 2009 collection of essays entitled, Mediation, Remediation, and the Dynamics of Cultural Memory, Astrid Erll and Ann Rigney argue that “…particular media offerings become agenda-setters for collective remembrance and it is through the inter-medial reiteration of the story across different platforms in the public area (print, image, the internet, commemorative rituals) that the topic takes root in the community.”84 Arguably, Giuliani’s participation in the Congress of Vienna through both performing and composition contributed to the dissemination of the Congress’s message, and its subsequent entry into the collective memory of those who were in Vienna at the time. Like the souvenir medals and snuff boxes, his compositions serve as small-scale representations of the Congress peace negotiations, items that people could take home with them as a reminder of the peace negotiations that took place between Europe’s influential rulers. As Nicholas Mathew states in his analysis of the pieces published after the Congress-related Prater Festival, “These pictures might remind us that topical musical publications such as these were primarily souvenirs, serving to channel intimate memories through physical commodities—and, in this instance, to allow public commemoration to be re-enacted on a scale commensurate with sentimental

81 Werner Telesko, “Mundus Concors? The Congress of Vienna and the European Iconography of Peace in the 19th Century,” in Europe in Vienna: The Congress of Vienna 1814/15, ed. Agnes Husslein-Arco, Sabine Grabner, and Werner Telesko (Munchen: Hirmer, 2015), 18. 82 Werner Telesko, “Medals and Snuff Boxes at the Time of the Congress of Vienna,” in Europe in Vienna: The Congress of Vienna 1814/15, ed. Agnes Husslein-Arco, Sabine Grabner, and Werner Telesko (Munchen: Hirmer, 1815), 250. 83 Ibid. 84 Astrid Erll and Ann Rigney, “Introduction: Cultural Memory and Its Dynamics,” in Mediation, Remediation, and the Dynamics of Cultural Memory, ed. Astrid Erll and Ann Rigney (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2009), 2–3.

54 contemplation at home.”85 Even Giuliani’s performances, though more ephemeral in nature, served a similar function. Musical performances can also become part of collective remembering, especially when commemorative songs are heard again after the event is over, or even across geographical boundaries.86

Giuliani’s participation in the ducat concerts and, subsequently, in the series of Count Palffy’s private serenades, highlights the political nature of his performances during the Congress of Vienna. The program for the ducat concerts serves to support and reinforce the Congress’s political goal of cooperation and conversation. Giuliani’s performances in the Schönbrunn gardens, though more private and exclusive, further underscore the notion of projecting an image of power before international guests. Count Palffy’s gatherings were decidedly meant for upper and court aristocracy only, and the lavish setting of Schönbrunn Palace coupled with the performances by some of Vienna’s foremost virtuosi made for an impressive display of wealth from both Palffy and the Austrian Empire. By this time, Giuliani and his circle of friends were well-known fixtures in Vienna’s music culture, both in public performances and private settings. Gathering them together for a private performance showcased the talent of the musicians who made Vienna their home, demonstrating the high standards of musical performance and cultural attainment in the city. Accounts of these performances make particular note of the attendance of Empress Marie-Louise and the Austrian archdukes, but it is likely—given the influx of high- ranking foreign guests in Vienna at the time—that Count Palffy also played host to other members of the aristocracy from around Europe.

Though most of Giuliani’s participation in Congress festivities appears to have occurred in more private settings than these, he can also be easily positioned within the more commodity-driven culture of dance as popular entertainment, given the Viennese fascination with dance culture and Giuliani’s own commitment to producing works that reflected the city’s dominant musical trends. During the Congress, Giuliani was particularly active in publishing, and his compositional output in late 1814 and early 1815 is defined by the genres in which he typically

85 Mathew, “Vienna, 18 October 1814: Urban Space and Public Memory in the Napoleonic ‘Occasional Melodrama,’” 178. 86 Hölscher Meike, “Performances, Souvenirs, and Music: The Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria 1897,” in Mediation, Remediation, and the Dynamics of Cultural Memory, ed. Astrid Erll and Ann Rigney (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2009), 178, 183.

55 composed, namely variation sets and Ländler. Taking advantage of Vienna’s heightened cosmopolitanism and the celebration of cooperation between Europe’s most influential powers, his numerous national dances for guitar and guitar duet undoubtedly contributed to his print music sales during the Congress, especially considering their relatively moderate level of difficulty and their resultant playability by amateurs at home.87 His Ländler would have been especially popular as their representation of the Austrian folk dance aligned them with patriotic memorabilia, for which there was a large market during the Congress.88 In 1814, Giuliani’s op. 55 12 Ländler for two guitars, published by Steiner and Co. in Vienna,89 joined his op. 44 12 Ländler, which were published by Artaria and had been advertised earlier that year.90 Both these sets of dances were relatively technically undemanding, clearly meant to be played by beginner guitarists at home. The simplicity of Giuliani’s dances serves to accentuate the simplicity of the folk genre from which he drew inspiration. Interestingly, Haslinger and Co. reprinted the op. 55 set of dances after Steiner’s initial run of the work. Typically, plates were purchased and reissued by other publishing companies if first editions sold very well. Once a piece was sold out, it could be reprinted upon request because the use of engraving plates allowed for pieces to be reprinted to meet demand, provided that the plates were not worn out.91 To complement these sets of Ländler, the year 1814 also saw the publication of Giuliani’s op. 49 variations on the Austrian folk song, “I bin a Kohlbauern Bub” by the Viennese publisher, Thadé Weigl.92

Austrian songs and dances were not the only folk styles that Giuliani published in 1814-1815. The guitarist also advertised the scores for two solo guitar works based on Russian themes in the second half of 1814.93 That August, just before the Congress’s inaugural celebrations, Giuliani published his op. 60 VI Variazioni per Chitarra sul Thema originale Russo.94 These six variations on an original Russian theme were followed by another attempt to integrate Russian folk music into his catalogue in time for the Congress. In December of 1814, Artaria published

87 For a more detailed description of these dances, please see Chapter 4, “Reconciling the Natural and Unnatural: Giuliani’s Folk-Inspired Works.” 88 Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History: Civil Society and Politics in the Habsburg Empire at the End of the Wars Against Napoleon,” 114. 89 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 6265. 90 Ibid., location 6231. 91 Rupert Ridgewell, “Artaria’s Music Shop and Boccherini’s Music in Viennese Musical Life,” Early Music 33, no. 2 (2005): 185. 92 A more detailed analysis of Giuliani’s op. 49 appears in Chapter 4. 93 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 6315. 94 Ibid., location 6295.

Giuliani’s op. 64 6 Variazioni per Chitarra sul Aria Russa: Poschaluite Sudarina.95 I believe Giuliani’s familiarity with these themes can be attributed to several sources, including the performances of other musicians as well as Russian folk song collections published in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. As evidenced by the popularity of Russian melodies for variation sets by Vienna-based composers in the second decade of the nineteenth century, the melodies in these collections, if not the collections themselves, were widely disseminated. For example, Russian melodies used by Moscheles and Beethoven can be found in Nikolay L’vov and Ivan Prach’s publication, A Collection of Russian Folk Songs with their Melodies, which was initially published in 1790 but was reprinted in 1806 and, notably, in 1815.96

Publishing these two sets of Russian-inspired variations during the Congress of Vienna was a strategic decision on Giuliani’s part. It took advantage of the presence of international guests in Vienna, appealing to both the burgeoning folk movement and the Congress’s focus on concert politics. In particular, Russia’s political goals figured prominently in the Congress’s negotiations and Tsar Alexander I’s attendance at the Congress was highly anticipated. Giuliani’s Russian- based variation sets appear to have been a way to commemorate the Tsar’s visit. Of all the sovereigns who visited during the Congress, Alexander’s public persona was the most readily associated with celebrity.97 Russia’s instrumental role in Napoleon’s defeat solidified the Tsar’s status as the most popular of the allied sovereigns. Given the popularity of the young Tsar amongst the public, as well as Russia’s role in defeating Napoleon, it is not surprising that Giuliani would want to recognize Russia’s involvement in the end of war with two sets of Russian-inspired variations. While the authenticity of the variations is questionable in terms of their stylistic representation of Russian folk music—his use of these folk melodies in his own compositions represents more of a playful rendering of Russian folk music rather than an attempt at articulating a national identity—these variation sets highlight the way Giuliani was engaged with the popular and commodity-driven aspects of Congress politics. The timing of their

95 Ibid. 96 Timofeyev, “The Golden Age of the Russian Guitar: Repertoire, Performance Practice, and Social Function of the Russian Seven-String Guitar Music, 1800–1850,” 292. Beethoven’s WoO 158, 10 National Airs With Variations (op. 107), and 12 Variations for Piano on the Russian Dance (WoO71) were likely inspired by some of the songs in L’vov and Prach’s collection. See Margarita Mazo, “LPC Songs Used by Composers Before 1917,” in Nicolai L’vov and Ivan Prach, A Collection of Russian Folk Songs with their Melodies (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1987), 433–441. 97 King, Vienna, 1814: How the Conquerors of Napoleon Made Love, War, and Peace at the Congress of Vienna, 4.

57 publication suggests that they were meant to take advantage of the market for Congress-relevant memorabilia in Vienna.

Early nineteenth-century Russia, too, had a growing repertoire of music for the seven-string guitar, some of which Giuliani may have been familiar with through the performances of other musicians. In his dissertation, Oleg Timofeyev argues that the growing prominence of the guitar in Western Europe’s cultural capitals was also evident in the music culture of Russia.98 Though the Russian guitar phenomenon differed from that of Western Europe because it produced few professional guitarists—the result of Russia’s enduring feudal system—music for the seven- string guitar nevertheless came to prominence in early nineteenth-century Russia.99

Giuliani’s two Russian variation sets form a complementary pair, which could be played at home by amateur guitarists. VI Variazioni per Chitarra sul Thema originale Russo is based on the popular Russian folk song known in German-speaking lands as “Schöne Minka.”100 The melody appears in L’vov and Prach’s A Collection of Russian Folk Songs under another title: “Ekhav kozak za Dunai,” or “A Cossack Rode Beyond the Danube” (Example 2.2).101

98 Timofeyev, “The Golden Age of the Russian Guitar," 78. 99 Ibid. 100 Mauro Giuliani, The Complete Works: In Facsimiles of the Original Editions, Vol. 7, ed. Brian Jeffrey (London: Tecla Editions, 1984). 101Nicolai L’vov and Ivan Prach, A Collection of Russian Folk Songs and their Melodies, edited by Malcolm Hamrick Brown, introduction and appendixes by Margarita Mazo (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1987), 75.

Example 2.2 “A Cossack Rode Beyond the Danube” from L’vov and Prach’s A Collection of Russian Folksongs.

In terms of harmony and meter, Giuliani’s op. 60 variations are faithful to the original theme as it appears in L’vov and Prach’s collection. Like the original theme, Giuliani’s variations are in A minor and he uses many of the techniques found in a Classical variation set: 3rds and 6ths in variation 1, triplets in variation 2, slurs in variation 3, sixteenth notes in variation 4, the parallel major in variation 5, and a sweeping, sixteenth-note accompaniment figure in the bass in variation 6. Variation 6 also features a dramatic coda, making it the most technically demanding variation in the set, not only because it requires the player to quickly move up and down the fretboard, but because Giuliani indicated that the variation should be played at a faster tempo, perhaps to mimic the gradual increase in tempo that is a typical feature of the kazachok.102

Giuliani’s variations on “Schöne Minka” bear some resemblance to those produced by his contemporaries in Russia who composed for the seven-string guitar. More specifically, Giuliani’s op. 60 shares some stylistic similarities with Mikhail Vysotsky’s (1791-1838) “Cossack” variations, likely published in the 1810s.103 While Giuliani’s set is similar to that of Vysotsky in terms of its means of varying the popular theme (i.e.: slurs and rhythmic diminution), Vysotsky’s set requires a more technically adept player, while Giuliani’s set could be played by a guitarist of intermediate skill level.104 Giuliani’s variations also differ more in character from variation to variation, whereas Vysotsky’s variations are similar to one another, creating a greater sense of continuity in the set as a whole. Interestingly, Vysotsky also chose to write his set in the key of E minor, rather than A minor as the melody appears in L’vov and Prach’s collection. Though seven-string guitars were typically tuned to create a G major chord with the open strings (DGBdgbd’),105 Vystotsky could perhaps have used a different tuning or a capo to make it easier to play in E minor (Example 2.3). Though it is difficult to discern whether Giuliani composed his set of variations before Vysotsky’s, it is worth noting that the melody was a popular theme for variation sets published in Vienna in the 1810s, having appeared as the theme of Hummel’s op. 78 and Beethoven’s op. 107. Similarities between Giuliani’s work and

102 Dieter Lehmann, "Kazacho," Grove Music Online (2001). 17 Sep. 2018. http:////www.oxfordmusiconline.com/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo- 9781561592630-e-0000014801. 103 Because most of the sources for Vysotsky’s compositions are reprints, their exact original dates of publication and composition are not known. See Oleg Vitalyevich Timofeyev, “The Golden Age of the Russian Guitar,” 259. 104 Vysotsky’s “Cossack” variations feature advanced techniques such as harmonics, a more sophisticated interplay between bass and treble voices (played with the thumb and annular finger of the right hand) while filling out middle voices with the index and middle fingers, and sixteenth-note runs up and down the fretboard. 105 Timofeyev, “The Golden Age of the Russian Guitar," 59.

Example 2.3 Vysotsky’s “Cossack” variations published in the 1810s.

that of his Russian contemporaries could possibly be the result of a tradition of cultural exchange between artists in Austria and Russia stretching back into the late eighteenth century, with most interactions being instigated by Austrian artists travelling to Moscow.106

106 Ljudmila Markina, “Austrian Artists in Moscow and St. Petersburg,” in Europe in Vienna: The Congress of Vienna 1814/15, ed. Agnes Husslein-Arco, Sabine Grabner, and Werner Telesko (München: Hirmer, 2015), 197. Markina argues that similarities between the paintings of early nineteenth century Austrian and Russian artists were the result of Austrian artists visiting Moscow and imparting their painting techniques to Russian artists while influencing aristocratic tastes in art. See Markina, “Austrian Artists in Moscow and St. Petersburg,” 204.

To complement his variations on “Schöne Minka,” Giuliani’s op. 64 variations on “Poschaluite Sudarina,” a theme also featured in Beethoven’s op. 107, were also published by Artaria in late 1814. The text of “Poschaluite Sudarina” takes the form of a conversation between a woman and a would-be suitor:

Please, lady, sit near me. Please, lady, reward me with your glance. ‘Go away, go away, leave me alone, you are a nuisance. Go away, go away, leave me alone, you are not worth my love.’107

Though there is no connection between the text of the song and the Congress’s political agenda, Giuliani’s guitar arrangement of the theme was printed with the Russian text above the staff (Example 2.4).

Example 2.4 The theme from Giuliani’s op.64 variations on “Poschaluite Sundarina”.

107Mauro Giuliani, The Complete Works in Facsimiles of the Original Editions, vol. 8, edited by Brian Jeffrey (London: Tecla Editions, 1984), Preface. Translated by Brian Jeffrey.

This overt connection between Giuliani’s composition and his Russian folk music sources is complemented by his use of the polonaise in the final variation of this set. This compositional decision was probably strategic, as the polonaise was known as one of Tsar Alexander’s favourite dances.108 The strong connections that Giuliani forged between Russian folk music, the Tsar’s visit, and his own set of variations suggest that this piece was meant to take advantage of the market for Congress-related memorabilia. By purchasing one of Giuliani’s Russian-inspired variation sets, Congress attendees could take home a memento of Russia’s participation in the negotiations and Tsar Alexander’s memorable presence in Vienna.109

Giuliani’s decision to highlight Russia’s involvement in the Congress is not surprising given the focus on inclusion and communication that was so important to the negotiations. The theme of international cooperation was especially prevalent, with the alliance of Russian, Austrian, and Prussian sovereigns serving as the primary symbol of the peace that Metternich and other diplomats hoped to sustain. Visual depictions of the three monarchs, both in paintings and on other circulated memorabilia such as medals, were significant in communicating the Congress’s primary goal of peace through united cooperation (Figure 2.2).110

Figure 2.2 1813 medal depicting Franz I, Tsar Alexander, and Frederick William III of Prussia, Vienna, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Coin Collection. Photo from Telesko, “Mundus Concors?” 18.

108 Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History: Civil Society and Politics in the Habsburg Empire at the End of the Wars Against Napoleon,” 115. 109 Since publishers like Artaria did not keep sales data, we do not know how many copies of each of Giuliani’s pieces were sold. Artaria’s recorded data on plate numbers, prices, and release dates only. See Rupert Ridgewell, “Artaria’s Music Shop and Boccherini’s Music in Viennese Musical Life,” Early Music 33, no. 2 (2005): 180. 110 Telesko, “Mundus Concors? The Congress of Vienna and the European Iconography of Peace in the 19th Century,” 17–18.

I am convinced that any picture of Giuliani’s sphere of activity is incomplete and risks appearing detached from contemporary politics if it fails to consider the ways in which his music, both in performance and in print, engaged with the main messages and goals of the Congress. While many Congress-related events were meant as specifically Austrian displays of cultural power, Giuliani’s activities were effectively responsive to the broader internationalist goals of the Congress. His performances and the pieces he published speak to the atmosphere of celebration following Napoleon’s defeat, but also to the idea of cooperation between different European powers and national groups by means of discussion. His publishing output and performances during the Congress represent the diversity of the visitors to Vienna as well as the diversity of the Austrian Empire; but looking beyond contemporary participation in events celebrating the musical traditions of these visiting nations, Giuliani’s compositions were geared toward sheet music sales and thus a more lasting printed and distributable commemoration of a significant moment in European diplomatic history. Despite his own status as a foreigner in their midst, the Viennese seem to have claimed him as their own, as he performed during the Congress showcase of internationalism alongside the city’s most prominent musicians at relatively exclusive events, while directly contributing to the market for Congress-related commodities.

2.5 Austrian Patriotism and Music in the Late Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries

To better understand the significance of Giuliani’s participation in the Congress of Vienna festivities, it is important to consider the political and social contexts that served as a backdrop for his performances and publishing endeavors. While Giuliani’s performances during the Congress were clearly part of a broader impetus toward musical communication of political ideas, particularly those related to the goals of the Congress—that is, the peaceful cooperation and conversation between Europe’s dominant powers—they also communicated the ideals of a growing patriotism toward a distinctly Austrian nation. Fluid notions of ethnic identity were encouraged by early nineteenth-century patriotic campaigns, and they allowed for Giuliani’s more playful use of Russian, German, French, and Austrian folk materials, as I will discuss in Chapter 4.

Giuliani’s time in Vienna coincided with a period of development in concepts related to Austrian citizenship and centralization. In the late eighteenth century, Maria Theresia’s co-regent, Joseph II (1741–1790), began efforts to centralize the Habsburg Empire by fostering an identification of the Empire’s subjects with the imperial capital, that is, the Austrian state, as opposed to the individual localities within the Empire.111 Noting that this process of centralization and the transformation of subjects into citizens overlapped with the Napoleonic Wars, scholars have recognized the value of viewing the Congress through the lens of the political processes that had shaped the Austrian stage for Europe’s post-conflict reorganization. This implies a perspective on proceedings of the Vienna Congress, then, including its celebratory cultural events, as reflecting not only international politics, but distinctively Austrian political conditions as well –– conditions in which cultural expressions were shaped by recent ideals of patriotism within a multinational state.

An important foundation for Joseph II’s centralizing initiatives was the 1771 treatise Über die Liebe des Vaterlandes (On the Love of the Fatherland), by Maria Theresia’s advisor Joseph von Sonnenfels. Über die Liebe des Vaterlandes was one of the first texts by an Austrian author to address the debate surrounding patriotism, which was surfacing in German-speaking lands.112 Unlike France and England, Austria saw the spread of Enlightenment thought by imperial officials rather than philosophers, and Sonnenfels was a key proponent of Enlightenment ideals in Austria.113 His writings are among the few by Austrian authors to have engaged with discourses in European Enlightenment while disseminating the ideals of Enlightened thought.114 A politician and legal scholar, Sonnenfels worked on judicial reforms introduced by Joseph II once he became the imperial counsellor in 1779.115 Sonnenfels’s text set the parameters of what it meant to belong to a specific place or to be part of a distinct group of people. He positioned the idea of patriotism as central to fostering the people’s emotional attachment to the state which, he believed, would result in a more centralized state.116 For Sonnenfels, the concept of a Fatherland

111 Judson, The Habsburg Monarchy, 77. 112 Marius Turda, “Joseph von Sonnenfels: On the Love of Fatherland,” in Discourses of Collective Identity in Central and Southeast Europe (1770-1945): Texts and Commentaries, ed. Balázs Trencsényi and Michal Kopeček (Budapest: Central European University Press, 2006), 129. 113 Ibid., 129. 114 Ibid., 127-129. 115 Ibid., 127. 116 Ibid.

65 encompassed a number of interrelated societal structures, namely government, common laws of the land, and place of permanent residence. His most novel concept was the notion that feelings of attachment to the Fatherland were not necessarily reflections of loyalty to the dynasty, but rather of an attachment to shared laws, like a constitution, which all citizens—including the monarchy—had in common.117 In Sonnenfels’s ideal state, patriotism among the people and the monarch provided the clearest path to economic, political, and social advancement. Unlike other writings on nationalism and patriotism in the late eighteenth century, Sonnenfels’s theories were more invested in present traditions, rather than looking to shared cultural history as a means of fostering an identification with the state.118

The monarchy’s efforts towards centralization and the creation of an Austrian nation were advanced when Francis founded the Austrian Empire in 1804— the same year Napoleon crowned himself emperor of France.119 Given the diverse ethnic background of the subjects of the new Empire, centralization still proved a difficult task as many groups most readily identified with their specific localities, in some cases even claiming the status of a distinct nation in order to preserve their perceived rights as peoples.120 Despite the protests of certain ethnic groups and the traditionally privileged classes affiliated with the church and aristocracy, the Allgemeines Bürgerliche Gesetzbuch (General Civil Law Code) was finalized in 1811. The code lawfully changed the status of imperial subjects to that of citizens, granting equality before the law to all citizens and encouraging the notion of a common citizenship in the Empire as opposed to a sense of belonging to a specific locality.121 Identification with the Imperial capital was instrumental in inspiring patriotic sentiments for the emerging Austrian state: sentiments useful for boosting morale during the Napoleonic Wars later proved significant for demonstrations of Austrian power through civic pride during the Vienna Congress.122

117 Judson, The Habsburg Monarchy, 62. 118 Kopeček, “Discourses of Collective Identity in Central and Southeast Europe (1770-1945): Texts and Commentaries,” 130. 119 Hugo Schmidt, “The Origin of the Austrian National Anthem,” in Austria in the Age of the French Revolution (Minneapolis: Centre for Austrian Studies, University of Minnesota, 1990), 175. 120 Judson, The Habsburg Monarchy, 87. Judson uses this example to demonstrate the meaning of just one of the many definitions of “nation” in the Habsburg Empire in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. See Judson, The Habsburg Monarchy, 85-86. 121 Ibid., 77. 122 Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History: Civil Society and Politics in the Habsburg Empire at the End of the Wars Against Napoleon,” 110.

Though distinct ethnic groups championing their rights proved to be a barrier to centralization, the strength of musical demonstrations of Austrian power during the Congress was ultimately linked nevertheless to the uniquely multinational composition of the Habsburg Empire. The different ethnic groups that resided in Austria, and across the Empire as a whole, contributed to the creation of an Austrian cultural and national identity that was defined by the idea of multinationalism.123 In his article “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History,” Brian Vick argues that notions of multi-national statehood and ethnic coexistence were thought to be completely viable models of nationhood in the early nineteenth century.124 Vick asserts that concepts of “multinational nationality,” or what he calls federative nationality, also played a role in determining the direction of Congress of Vienna politics within government circles, and in the wider public as well.125 The multinational composition of the emerging Austrian state encourages the application of more fluid definitions of patriotism and nationalism to studies on early-nineteenth century Austria, as the two concepts held different meanings for different ethnic groups.126

2.6 The Congress Does Not March, it Dances

The most famous and perhaps notorious celebratory activities to take place during the Congress of Vienna were the dances and balls. Dances were held frequently throughout the Congress, and apparently, at times, seemed to overshadow the vital political negotiations that were supposed to be the principal focus. By the early nineteenth century, dance culture in Vienna was highly developed and dancing had become a popular form of entertainment for all classes.127 Public dance halls began to appear around the city as early as the 1780s, with the number of halls growing from fifteen to fifty by 1810.128 Despite the popularity of dancing among all classes,

123 Ibid. 124 Ibid., 126-127. 125 Ibid., 93. 126 Vick, The Congress of Vienna: Power and Politics after Napoleon, 4-5. 127 Joonas Jussi Sakari Korhonen, “Urban Social Space and the Development of Public Dance Hall Culture in Vienna, 1780-1814,” Urban History 40, no. 4 (2013): 606. 128 Ibid., 607.

Joonas Jussi Sakari Korhonen argues that the commercialization of Viennese dance culture in the early nineteenth century reinforced and perpetuated class distinctions amongst those invested in dancing as a form of popular entertainment.129 In fact, the association of different classes with specific spaces further underscored the class divide as dance culture became the most widely consumed entertainment in Vienna.130 Public dance halls, which were often converted restaurants, were popular amongst the bourgeoisie and lower classes.131 Unwilling to share social space with middle and lower classes, however, the aristocracy held their balls in private ballrooms. These private dance halls, which also doubled as party rooms, were owned by independent entrepreneurs in Vienna, the most prominent being Franz Jan who was often called upon to organize events on behalf of the aristocracy. The Apollo Rooms on Zieglergasse were among the most commonly used for balls and parties; however, the Zur Mehlgrube and the Zum Römischen Kaiser also played host to several dance-related functions.132

While Korhonen argues that Viennese dance culture made visible a degree of class segregation in public spaces, the nature of the balls that were held during the Congress suggests a blurring of such social divisions. For the balls associated with the Congress of Vienna––as well as most of the Congress’s other social events––were open to patrons of all classes.133 During these balls, patrons waltzed to continuous music provided by two orchestras who would take turns, one resting while the other played.134 Depending on the organizers and their resources, balls might accommodate between 4,000 and 10,000 guests, with some balls being organized by the court, while others were hosted by aristocratic families.135 Some of these events were costumed balls with specific themes. One ball, hosted by Metternich, asked guests to dress in the traditional folk costumes of one of Austria’s peoples.136 This request, though seemingly unusual, further

129 Ibid., 606. 130 Ibid., 608. 131 Ibid., 607. Korhonen argues that it was in the public dance halls of the middle and lower classes where the Viennese waltz was developed, not the ballrooms of the elite classes. See Korhonen, “Urban Social Space and the Development of Public Dance Hall Culture in Vienna, 1790-1814,” 607. 132 Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History: Civil Society and Politics in the Habsburg Empire at the End of the Wars Against Napoleon,” 113. 133 Ibid., 112. 134 The waltzes that were danced during the Congress were more akin to the Austrian Ländler or Deutsche Tänze rather than the modern Viennese waltz. See Biba, “The Congress of Vienna and Music,” 202. 135 Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History: Civil Society and Politics in the Habsburg Empire at the End of the Wars Against Napoleon,” 113. 136 Ibid., 129.

68 emphasizes the significance of Austria’s emerging multi-national identity while playing into the aristocracy’s fascination with folk culture –– a topic I will revisit in Chapter 4.

Though dances and balls are the events most readily associated with the more frivolous celebratory activities to take place during the Vienna Congress, the diplomatic conference saw no shortage of novelty celebrations and varied events. One such event was a mock medieval tournament held on November 23, 1814, when noblemen dressed as knights jousted one another on horseback.137 When Beethoven refused Archduke Rudolf’s request to supply music for this event, Giuliani’s frequent collaborator, Moscheles, was enlisted to compose the music to accompany the tournament.138 In his account of the tournaments at the Imperial Riding School, Richard Bright, a doctor visiting Vienna from England, notes in his English-language memoir that “In succession all the knights entered in parties of fours, and went through their evolutions with great variety of active exertion, a band of music constantly playing appropriate airs, or martial flourishes.”139 In some demonstrations, the knights also jousted figures dressed as Turks and Moors.140 Novelty celebrations, however, were not restricted to privately-hosted events, as unusual types of performances were especially lucrative when ticket sales were involved. Perhaps because of the instrument’s somewhat novel status in Vienna, the guitar was included in some of these more unusual performances. Franciska Bolzmann, the nine-year-old guitar virtuoso, gave a concert during the Congress for which she performed the third movement of Giuliani’s first guitar concerto with string quartet accompaniment.141 Such a performance speaks to Giuliani’s status as a musician in Vienna, as well as the association of the guitar with lucrative novelty performances, a topic to which I will return in Chapter 3.

137 Buch, Beethoven’s Ninth: A Political History, 77-79. 138 Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History: Civil Society and Politics in the Habsburg Empire at the End of the Wars Against Napoleon,” 115. 139 Richard Bright, Travels from Vienna through Lower Hungary: With Some Remarks on the State of Vienna during the Congress, in the Year 1814 (Edinburgh: Archibald Constable and Co., 1818), 16. 140 Ibid., 15. 141 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: a Life for the Guitar, location 1973. An arrangement of Giuliani’s op. 30 guitar concerto for guitar and string quartet was published by Bureau des Arts et d’Industrie in 1810. See Mauro Giuliani, Mauro Giuliani: the Complete Works in Facsimiles of the Original Editions, vol.26, ed. Brian Jeffrey (London: Tecla Editions, 1984).

2.7 Salon Culture and Networks in Vienna

In contrast with the grand scale and sometimes frivolous nature of the Congress’s public events, the Viennese salon offers insight into the more private intersections between music and politics that took place during this time. Despite their smaller scale and private nature, salons and salon culture were just as integral to the communication of political ideas as public festivities during the Congress of Vienna. Vienna’s salon culture, along with that of Paris, was highly developed, and salon gatherings offered their attendees the unique opportunity to participate in an environment of friendly debate among people of the middle and aristocratic classes.142 Though the conversation-based, intellectual salons held the strongest reputation for facilitating meaningful political discussions among attendees, the discussions that took place in Vienna’s cultural salons were just as significant. The cultural salons also provided another venue for Congress-related musical performances, often bridging the gap between public and private music making and encouraging interaction between the classes. They clearly constituted an important means of exposure and support for new musicians in the city and were indeed a significant element of Giuliani’s musical milieu, not least because of the guitar’s suitability for the smaller venues of the salon scene.

Giuliani benefitted greatly from the performance opportunities afforded by the salon’s intimate setting. His 1808 performance in the home of Frau von Rittersburg not only forged an important connection with his hostess, to whom he dedicated his op. 49 variations, but garnered him the attention of Johann Friedrich Reichardt as well.143 The writings of Reichardt, who attended a concert held at the home of Rittersburg, provide a record of some of Giuliani’s activities in more private settings. In an 1809 letter to an unnamed recipient, Reichardt mentions that he “…also heard the very popular guitarist Giuliani for the first time at this concert, and I longed very much to hear him again…”.144 According to Reichardt, Frau von Rittersburg held a series of amateur concerts in her home in the spring of 1809, during which she and some of her guests also performed some Italian vocal music alongside performances by instrumentalists like Giuliani. Though Frau von Rittersburg’s home was not explicitly referred to as a salon, Reichardt’s description of the concert series fits many of the characteristics of the early nineteenth-century

142 Vick, The Congress of Vienna: Power and Politics After Napoleon, 113. 143 A more detailed analysis of this piece appears below in Chapter 4. 144 Johann Friedrich Reichardt, Vertraute Briefe: geschrieben auf einer Reise nach Wien und den österreichischen Staaten zu Ende des Jahres 1808 und zu Anfang 1809 (Amsterdam, 1810), 465-466.

Viennese salon. In typical salon fashion, Reichardt reports that Frau von Rittersburg’s concert series also provided:

…a good opportunity for conversation because of its pleasantly mixed audience from all ranks. One can find here the eminent men of the nation and of the court together with the families of the petty aristocracy and the bourgeoisie, united in a very good and free way, and one often has a pleasant hour of conversation even after the concert.145

The focus on conversation and the free mixing of the aristocracy with the middle class suggests that Frau von Rittersburg indeed fostered a salon-like atmosphere at her house concerts. Giuliani’s experience with Rittersburg clearly left an impression on him for, in addition to performing in her home, Giuliani also dedicated his op. 49 Variations on “I bin a Kohlbauren Bub” to her in 1814.146

The performance and networking opportunities offered by the salons were important for musicians as means of establishing their careers and an invitation to perform at a highly esteemed salon was an indication of a musician’s cultural status in the city. Owing partly to the private nature of salon gatherings, Giuliani’s participation in Vienna’s salons during the Congress per se is not documented; however, his prior and ongoing engagement in private music-making strongly suggests that, throughout the Congress, his performance and circulation within the salons would simply have continued. Indeed, the period of the Congress marks the pinnacle of the popularity of the salon in Vienna, so demand for salon entertainment was high. The salon also served a significant political function because of the way it encouraged conversation amongst guests while facilitating friendly debate in a controlled environment. In larger cities, court-based institutions such as diplomacy and the arts attracted visitors from around the continent, a phenomenon that became even more pronounced in Vienna as an unprecedented number of visitors flocked to the city during the Congress. Through salon conversations and debates, participants were not only exposed to viewpoints that were alternative to their own, but also to the latest news to come from the Congress negotiations. To illustrate the importance of the salon to the dissemination of information in the early nineteenth century, Brian Vick draws a parallel between the salon and the modern press conference.147 He argues that

145 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 1335. 146 Ibid., location 864. 147 Vick, The Congress of Vienna: Power and Politics After Napoleon, 132.

71 guests visited the salon to gather news on the most recent developments to come from the Congress negotiations while exchanging their own political ideas.

If salons functioned as clearinghouses for political information, perhaps they served the same function in terms of the exchange of musical ideas. Studies on the nature of the salon have positioned them as important venues for new musicians to gain exposure,148 and the presence of international guests at Congress-era salons suggests that this process of exposure may have been heightened by the cultural exchanges that occurred during the Congress –– a phenomenon that was made more effective by the unique composition of European salon networks.149 Vick argues that the term network, despite its modern connotations, appropriately describes the relationships between participants in salon culture in the early nineteenth century.150 He describes the groups of people who frequented salons as small, but complex, networks for which the salon acted as a hub.151 Rather than introducing people, salons brought people together who were already connected in some way, strengthening a connection that was typically long-distance. Vick describes the “small-world” network of Europe’s social, cultural, and political elite as being linked by letter writing and by the salons themselves, the latter of which helped strengthen these ties during the Congress as it put people from around Europe into direct contact with one another.152 Major European capitals, like Vienna and Paris, had arguably the most active and highly developed salon cultures in Europe, and the densest networks of connections.

Not coincidentally, Vienna and Paris were also the two most prominent European guitar centres. I believe the implications of this process of dissemination via the salon network could contribute to a better understanding of how guitar music rose to popularity throughout Europe in the early nineteenth century. Events such as the Congress of Vienna, which saw an increase in international guests to the city’s salons, would have expanded the exchange of musical ideas from city-wide, to continent-wide. Viewing the salon as at once a forum for disseminating

148 See Otto Biba, “Jewish Families, Composers, and Musicians in Vienna in the First Half of the Nineteenth Century,” in Vienna: Jews and the City of Music 1870-1938, ed. Leon Botstein and Werner Hanak, 65-76 (Annandale-on-Hudson: Wolke Verlag, 2004); Leon Botstein, “Music, Femininity, and Jewish Identity: the Tradition and Legacy of the Salon,” in Jewish Women and their Salons: the Power of Conversation, curated by Emily D. Bilski and Emily Braun, 159-170 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005); Alison Rose, “The Jewish Salons of Vienna,” in Gender and Identity in Central Europe, ed. Agatha Schwartz, 139-132 (Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 2010). 149 Vick, The Congress of Vienna: Power and Politics after Napoleon, 113-115. 150 Ibid., 114. 151 Ibid., 113. 152 Ibid., 115.

72 information and a hub for the development of connections between people, contributes to a better understanding of how the salons affected musicians and Vienna’s musical life.

Inasmuch as they were significant to the circulation of information regarding political negotiations, salons also provided a point of entry for women into politics. At the centre of salon culture was the salonnière, whose personality, musical skill, and ability to generate and direct conversation collectively determined the popularity of her salon. Some Viennese salons featured male hosts, but the woman of the household was typically the main figure of the salon.153 During the Congress of Vienna, one of the most popular salons was run by Fanny von Arnstein, the wife of successful banker Nathan Adam von Arnstein.154 Arnstein’s salon was considered one of the premiere salons in Vienna. Her personal roots in Berlin, coupled with the fact that her salon catered to Habsburg royalty as well as the upper aristocracy, made for a unique salon dynamic that mixed social classes and encouraged discussion amongst international guests.155 The status of Arnstein’s salon as distinctly international was of particular significance, as not all salons were welcoming to international guests, opting instead to host domestic court elite exclusively.156

Founded in 1780, Arnstein’s salon reached the height of its popularity during the Congress of Vienna. Arnstein used her family’s great wealth to attain social prominence by providing a luxurious atmosphere of entertainment for her guests and actively engaging in philanthropic pursuits, many of which involved the support of musical organizations and independent musicians. In the early years of her salon, Arnstein used her skills as a pianist to provide entertainment for her guests, demonstrating her exceptional sight-reading skills and preference

153 Gender dynamics could vary between salons. Some salons, such as that of the Schlegels and the Prince de Ligne, featured male hosts. Often, if the male of the house was a public figure, he would be the central focus of the salon. However, even in these salons with male hosts, the female members of the house helped run the gatherings and played an important role in directing conversation. See Vick, The Congress of Vienna: Power and Politics after Napoleon, 121. 154 Nathan Adam von Arnstein was a partner in the Arnstein and Eskeles firm. Fanny von Arnstein’s sister, Caecille, was married to the other partner of the firm, Bernhard von Eskeles. The bankers had direct ties with the monarchy, as the Arnstein and Eskeles families were two of the five families who helped supply the reparation funds after Austria was defeated by France in 1804 and 1809. See Katharina Lovecky, “The Salons of the Congress— Gatherings of ‘Elegant, Easy, Conviviality,’” in Europe in Vienna: The Congress of Vienna 1814/15, ed. Agnes Husslein-Arco, Sabine Grabner, and Werner Telesco (München: Hirmer, 2015), 330. 155 Vick, The Congress of Vienna: Power and Politics after Napoleon, 120. 156 Ibid., 121.

73 for technically challenging pieces.157 After 1796 she rarely performed during the gatherings at her home; instead, she used her salon to showcase the talent of some of Europe’s most prominent musicians who were visiting Vienna, opting to support music-related initiatives rather than always being a direct participant. In 1808 pianist-composer Ignaz Moscheles moved to Vienna from Prague, coming into contact with Arnstein and her circle of friends upon his arrival. Two years later, Arnstein's connections at the Bureau des Arts et d’Industrie publishing firm helped the sixteen-year-old Moscheles to publish his op. 2 Dix Variations sur l’Air favori de l’Opera: Der Dorfbarbier.158 They appeared with a dedication to Fanny von Arnstein as thanks for her aid with his publishing efforts.

Though it was her love of music that inspired her to start a salon, Arnstein used her salon as a space where she openly advocated for Jewish rights and, during the Congress of Vienna, voiced her views against Napoleon and France.159 Arnstein’s dedication to discussing social and political topics in her salon contributed to the success of her salon and earned her the admiration of her attendees. Contemporary accounts of the atmosphere of Arnstein’s salon describe her as a worldly hostess and her house as representative of the pinnacle of refined sociability in Vienna.160 Despite the popularity of her salon, not all attendees were comfortable with the topics of discussion they found in the Arnstein home, and some were concerned about how their association with Arnstein would be viewed by the secret police. In addition to voicing her anti- French views, Arnstein was also known to be “scandalously pro-Prussian” in support of the country of her birth.161 Such sentiments, coupled with the freedom of social interaction that Arnstein’s guests experienced in her home, caught the attention of Francis’s secret police. Arnstein’s salon was often under surveillance, and it is primarily from these surveillance reports that we have come to understand the nature of her salon and the types of guests she entertained.162 Though the Arnstein salon was Vienna’s most popular and well-known salon during the Congress, its reputation suffered after a controversy related to the salonnière’s

157 Otto Biba, “Jewish Families, Composers, and Musicians in Vienna in the First Half of the Nineteenth Century,” in Vienna: Jews and the City of Music 1870-1938, ed. Leon Botstein and Werner Hanak (Annandale-on-Hudson: Wolke Verlag, 2004), 66. 158 Ibid., 69. 159 Rose, “The Jewish Salons of Vienna,” 123. 160 Hilde Spiel, The Congress of Vienna: an Eyewitness Account (Philadelphia, PA: Chilton Book Co., 1968), 269. 161 Spiel, Congress: Eyewitness Account, 269. 162 Emily D. Bilski and Emily Braun, “The Romance of Emancipation,” in Jewish Women and their Salons: the Power of Conversation, curated by Emily D. Bilski and Emily Braun (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005), 34.

74 political interests.163 Both Fanny and her sister Caecille Eskeles were very vocal about their support of Prussian interests during the Congress negotiations. Arnstein and Eskeles opposed the Austrian bid for Saxony, opting to support Prussia instead. Their vocal opposition to Austrian interests made their salons less popular, but nevertheless prominent.

The threat of being watched by the secret police, however, did not deter people from visiting Arnstein’s home during the Congress of Vienna, “Fanny’s musical Tuesday soirees enjoyed growing popularity and drew into her circle ever-more members of the highest society, who would have avoided her a few years earlier…”164 During the Congress of Vienna, Fanny von Arnstein’s salon bolstered its reputation as one of Vienna’s most prominent salons by hosting a number of the Congress’s most famous guests. One particularly significant event that Arnstein hosted at her home at Hoher Markt no.582 on November 20, 1814, had some of the Congress’s most prominent musicians and politicians in attendance. Featured on the programme were a number of court and independent musicians from the court singers Antonia Campi, Johann Michael Vogl, and Karl Weinmüller to pianists Johann Nepomuk Hummel, Ignaz Moscheles— Giuliani’s esteemed colleagues—and Marie Therese Paradis.165 Given the participation of Giuliani’s frequent collaborators, Hummel and Moscheles, it is not difficult to imagine Giuliani performing in this, or a similar context as well. The musical performances by these distinguished artists were also complemented by poetry readings by Count Hippolit Pindemonte as well as theatrical performances by actress Johanna von Weißenthurn and actor Nicholaus Heurteur.166 In attendance at this particular gathering were Czar Alexander I of Russia, Clemens von Metternich, as well as Lord Wellington.167 During the Congress the Arnsteins also hosted a number of large-scale events that were not held in intimate, salon-like settings. Ballrooms had to be rented to accommodate the large number of guests for these more lavish functions. One event in particular was a reception held at Zur Mehlgrube. The evening’s festivities opened with a concert, followed by a ball and dinner.168 The sheer number of guests who attended this soirée is significant given that Vienna had no shortage of celebrations during the Congress, demonstrating

163 Vick, The Congress of Vienna: Power and Politics after Napoleon, 137. 164 Hilde Spiel, Fanny von Arnstein: Daughter of the Enlightenment, 1758-1818, trans. Christine Shuttleworth (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1991), 290. 165 Biba, “Jewish Families, Composers, and Musicians,” 66. 166 Ibid. 167 Bilski and Braun, “The Romance of Emancipation,” 37. 168 Spiel, Fanny von Arnstein, 287.

75 the prestige that the Arnsteins had within Viennese society and the desirability of the events that they hosted.

Caroline Pichler’s salon, by contrast, only occasionally hosted imperial guests, but catered primarily to the lower aristocracy, middle classes, and minor officials. Pichler’s salon had a reputation for being more focussed on arts and literature, drawing in Vienna’s cultural elite. Pichler was herself an Austrian nationalist poet169 and she supported various artistic endeavours with her salon, particularly those that represented Austrian heritage and current political interests. In her salon, Pichler staged the historical plays of Joseph Hormayr (1781-1848), historian and former captain of the Tyrolean Landwehr.170 Because of her Austrian roots and the nature of her social circle, Pichler’s salon was directly involved with Austrian patriotic movements and growing nationalist sentiments. It was the meeting place for some of Austria’s earliest proponents of patriotism and nationalism in the arts, namely Joseph Hormayr and the Collin brothers, Heinrich and Matthäus.171 Hormayr, in addition to being a historical playwright, was a leading figure in the movement towards encouraging the general populace to study Austrian history more actively. The writings he published in his periodical, Archiv für Gerographie, Historie, Staats- und Kriegskunst, played a significant role in circulating “historical ballads” which could teach readers about Austrian history and ancestors, using a poetic style that readers would find attractive and palatable.172

The Congress of Vienna marks a significant period of change in the history of Viennese salon culture, as it represents a time in which European sociability was also changing. The salon reflected changes in patterns of sociability, as it was in the salon that such changes were enacted. Some salons, such as the Castlereagh salon, were less popular because of the lack of direction the hostess provided in conversation. Rather than having a central figure directing the interactions between guests, guests in these salons were encouraged to lead their own conversations.173 In some cases, the Castlereaghs did not even greet all of their guests. Hosting a salon using this

169 Mathew, “Beethoven’s Political Music, the Handelian Sublime, and the Aesthetics of Prostration,” 125. 170 Hugo Schmidt, “The Origin of the Austrian National Anthem,” in Austria in the Age of the French Revolution (Minneapolis: Centre for Austrian Studies, University of Minnesota, 1990), 175. 171 Susan Youens, Schubert’s Late Lieder: Beyond the Song Cycles (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 8. 172 Ibid., 8-9. 173 Vick, The Congress of Vienna: Power and Politics after Napoleon, 123.

76 more informal model typically associated with British salons, was often viewed by continental Europeans as impolite; however, the decentralized model and the fluctuating attitudes held by salon guests towards manners, taste, and the nature of status may have been an indication of the salon’s increasing association with individualism and the emerging public sphere.174

Viennese salons embodied important, if less-than-official, social spheres of Congress activity. A consideration of Giuliani’s involvement in the smaller-scale aspects of Congress celebrations reveals that the more private, less sublime musical and social gatherings that took place during the Congress were capable of embodying the same political sentiments as their larger counterparts while simultaneously offering attendees a conversational environment within which they could discuss developments in the ongoing negotiations. Patriotic musical expressions, whether they were part of large-scale celebrations or smaller, more intimate performances, were a significant vehicle for demonstrating Austria’s power to the rest of Europe during the Congress. Communicating this image of power was of great importance during the Congress given the crippling defeats Austria had suffered during the Napoleonic Wars, and Francis’s subsequent patriotic campaigns to boost morale.175 Blurring the boundaries between the public and private, the large scale and the small scale, is a recurring theme in Giuliani’s career, and—as Chapters 3 and 4 will outline—aspects of his involvement in the Congress of Vienna permeate Giuliani’s activity in the city overall. His increasing engagement with, and awareness of, specific Viennese musical markets is best exemplified by the nature of his activities during the Congress; however, his ability to assess and meet the demands of the markets in which he was a participant, namely those for virtuoso concerts and folk-inspired sheet music, demonstrates his understanding of how to best present his instrument, and himself, to these markets.

174 Ibid. 175 Vick, “The Vienna Congress as an Event in Austrian History,” 111-113.

Chapter 3 “Just Imagine a Guitar Next to Kettle-Drums”: Giuliani as Virtuoso

3.1 From Accompanist to Soloist

In “Voi che sapete che cosa è amor,” one of the most memorable arias from Mozart’s Le nozze di Figaro (1786), Cherubino sings to the Countess of the pleasure and suffering associated with falling in love. At the request of the Countess, Susanna accompanies Cherubino on the Countess’s guitar during this aria, her mimed actions made more believable by the pizzicato strings in the orchestra which mimic the sound of arpeggiated chords on the guitar. The opera’s representation of the guitar as an instrument that can simply be picked up by anyone and strummed to accompany a singing voice is rooted in late eighteenth-century perceptions of the instrument that persisted during Giuliani’s time in Vienna. This image of the guitar was fostered by the instrument’s associations with informal music making and its popularity amongst musicians who were considered amateurs. In early nineteenth-century Vienna it would not have been uncommon to come across the guitar being strummed to accompany a folk singer in a bar or on the street.1 Considering the instrument’s dynamic limitations—its small body and plucked strings meant it was much softer in volume compared to other instruments—it was unsurprisingly absent from the city’s concert culture. Given the guitar’s position as an amateur’s instrument at the beginning of the nineteenth century, the somewhat surprising fact that Mauro Giuliani was able to establish himself as a guitar virtuoso and composer by the time he left Vienna in 1819 suggests that the factors contributing to his instrumental virtuosity and its public reception were different from those noted in and exploited by his pianistic counterparts. The guitar’s position in Vienna’s music culture was inextricably linked to Giuliani’s cultivation of a virtuoso persona that was enabled by the popularity of novel displays of virtuosity among a particular faction of early nineteenth-century concert-goers.

1 Alice Hanson, “Vienna, City of Music,” in Schubert’s Vienna, ed. Raymond Erickson (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997), 116.

77 78

Giuliani’s performance reputation was built primarily on his status as an Italian virtuoso and the prominence of the virtuoso phenomenon in Vienna’s music culture. Giuliani’s virtuoso status, however, was not shaped by the same factors that helped to develop the virtuoso personae of his contemporaries. While prominent early nineteenth-century keyboard virtuosi such as Ignaz Moscheles and Johann Nepomuk Hummel built their performance reputations on their ability to execute difficult passages of music with ease and skill, great technical ability was just one aspect of Giuliani’s virtuosity. More specifically, in this chapter I contend that Giuliani’s reputation as a virtuoso was shaped as much by his choice of instrument as it was by his technical skill on the guitar. The guitar’s ambivalent position in Vienna’s music culture and its perception as an amateur’s accompanimental instrument played a significant role in defining Giuliani’s position as a novelty in Vienna’s market for instrumental virtuosi. Giuliani’s distinctiveness as a guitarist helped him to establish a specific type of virtuosity that was unique to the guitar and to his style of playing. He seems to have been aware of the unique quality of the musical product he was offering and his involvement in Vienna’s virtuoso market is marked by his increasing interest in the lucrative subscription concert series. By analyzing the physical and aural performance conditions unique to the guitar, and their constraints and affordances as exploited by Giuliani, I provide insight into the ways that alternative forms of instrumental virtuosity in the early nineteenth century were created, projected, and received.

Despite the guitar’s improved dynamic range and sustaining capabilities that resulted from technical developments in the construction of the instrument, its lack of volume compared to other instruments, and its frequent appearances in informal settings such as bars and streets, relegated it to a position that was outside the bounds of virtuosic solo performance.2 Though there were a few professional guitarists, such as Simon Molitor and Anton Diabelli,3 living and working in Vienna at the time of Giuliani’s arrival, it was not until Giuliani began performing in the city that audiences and critics began to take notice of the guitar’s potential as a solo instrument.4 Though Giuliani’s performance reputation did not completely change the way the

2 Alice Hanson, Musical Life in Biedermeier Vienna (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 170–171. 3 Simon Molitor and Anton Diabelli (of the publishing firm Cappi and Diabelli) were two of Vienna’s most active guitarists prior to Giuliani’s arrival. Molitor was a guitarist, violinist, and civil servant who, after his retirement in 1831, hosted bi-monthly historical house concerts. See Hanson, Musical Life in Biedermeier Vienna, 118. 4 James Tyler and Paul Sparks, The Guitar and Its Music: From the Renaissance to the Classical Era (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 251.

79 guitar was viewed by all its critics, his manner of composition and performance were unlike anything Viennese audiences had previously experienced.5 Giuliani took advantage of the guitar’s newfound capabilities in sound production and composed for the instrument in a style that combined melody and harmony together, allowing for the guitarist to perform unaccompanied. All of Giuliani’s solo guitar works were written in this style, which, though novel at the time, exemplified an idiomatic type of guitar writing that is still used today. Giuliani wrote primarily in sharp keys, a compositional choice that was influenced by the instrument’s favouring of such keys due to the difficulties associated with making the open strings flat. Additionally, his chord voicings demonstrate a superior knowledge of comfortable left-hand positions on the fret board, and he often strategically used open notes to facilitate position changes along the guitar neck. Giuliani demonstrated his understanding of the guitar both in composition and practice and his time in Vienna was marked by countless public performances. These performances introduced Viennese audiences to the notion of guitar virtuosity as well as a growing popular music concert culture that was built around the stunning displays of Giuliani and his contemporaries, the city’s most prominent instrumentalists.

3.2 Instrumental Virtuosity and the Virtuoso Concert in Early Nineteenth-Century Vienna

Vienna’s music culture at the beginning of the nineteenth century was characteristically complex and changeable. Popular trends existed in tension with aesthetic ideals that were thought to be representative of more serious musical pursuits. At the centre of such aesthetic debates was the notion of virtuosity and the types of performance it inspired. Giuliani was a generation removed from the type of virtuoso fanaticism that Liszt would inspire when he came through Vienna in the 1830s;6 however, he and other instrumentalists of the early nineteenth century gained their performance reputations through their status as virtuosi and Viennese audiences’ fascination with

5 Though Giuliani’s manner of playing was unfamiliar to Viennese audiences, solo guitar playing was already a growing tradition in Naples at the time of his departure from Italy. Through his compositions and guitar methods, Federico Moretti (?-1838) is credited by Giuliani’s contemporaries, Sor and Aguado, for exposing them to the possibility of playing more than one voice on the guitar and having these voices reflected in the notation. Giuliani was part of a virtuoso guitarist exodus which included Fernando Carulli, Matteo Carcassi, and Marco Aurelio Zani de Ferranti. Due to the privileging of vocal genres in Italy, and the relatively limited performance opportunities compared to the number of guitar soloists, these musicians sought the salons and patronage offered by the music cultures in Vienna and Paris. See Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 882. 6 Oliver Hilmes, Franz Liszt: Musician, Celebrity, Superstar (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2016), 66-69.

80 the idea of spectacle. At the heart of the virtuoso phenomenon was a distinct paradox: virtuosi embodied both natural talent as well as the highest level of technical proficiency that could be attained by mechanistic training.7 The tension between the natural and the unnatural or artificial yielded stunning musical displays that were made to look effortless. Among the most popular musical trends in the city, virtuoso concerts were also some of the most lucrative.

Over the course of his sojourn in Vienna, Giuliani’s career underwent a dramatic transformation that was representative of the changes taking place in the city’s music culture. Like most foreign virtuosi at the time, he was relatively unknown in the city upon his arrival; however, through frequent concertizing and publishing, Giuliani gained enough prominence in the city’s music culture that he was asked to perform alongside other prominent virtuosi in the Congress’s series of ducat concerts. His time in Vienna corresponded with a great interest in virtuosic performance: prominent pianist-composers such as Ignaz Moscheles, Carl Czerny, and Johann Nepomuk Hummel were considered darlings of Vienna’s commercial concert culture. They were not only exceptional players, exemplifying a type of precise yet expressive style of keyboard playing, but they were also unparalleled improvisers.8

However, owing to the transitional time period in which he lived, Giuliani’s type of virtuosity— and that of his peers—is not thoroughly theorized in secondary literature or contemporary sources. In fact, the keyboard virtuosity of his contemporaries, such as Beethoven and Hummel, seems to have been admired and celebrated for contradictory reasons. Though Beethoven stopped performing as a keyboard soloist in 1811, other keyboard players in the pre-Liszt era of virtuosity were often compared to him. As prominent early nineteenth-century keyboard virtuoso Carl Czerny states in his memoirs, Beethoven was lauded for his power, character, bravura, and facility at the piano.9 However, Johann Nepomuk Hummel’s playing was admired by Czerny for its elegance and delicacy, as well as its distinct cleanness.10 Though Beethoven did not possess

Hummel’s precise execution, Hummel was reportedly not as exciting in performance.11 Such

7 James Deaville, “A Star is Born? Czerny, Liszt, and the Pedagogy of Virtuosity,” in Beyond the Art of Finger Dexterity: Reassessing Carl Czerny, ed. David Gramit (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 2008), 52. 8 Michael Saffle, “Czerny and the Keyboard Fantasy,” in Beyond the Art of Finger Dexterity: Reassessing Carl Czerny, ed. David Gramit (Rochester: University of Rochester Press, 2008), 204. 9 Carl Czerny and Sanders Ernest, “Recollections from My Life,” The Musical Quarterly 42, no. 3 (1956): 309. 10 Ibid. 11 Ibid.

81 discrepancies in the perception of early nineteenth-century virtuosity, and what constituted skillful playing and performance, were prevalent in Giuliani’s time. Giuliani and his contemporaries exist in a historical moment when aspects of Lisztian virtuosity and concert culture are beginning to emerge but have not quite assembled into the phenomenon that made Liszt’s career possible. Liszt embodies a combination of Beethoven’s personality and bravura, and Hummel’s precise technique and delicacy. Viewing Giuliani and his contemporaries as forerunners to the mid-nineteenth-century virtuoso phenomenon makes for a productive vantage point from which to view Giuliani’s own instrumental virtuosity, especially considering how novel a guitar virtuoso would have been to Viennese audiences.

A representative of the development of nineteenth-century virtuosity from Giuliani to Liszt, Paganini and his practice embodied many of the characteristics that Giuliani and his contemporaries exemplified at the beginning of the century. In 1809 Paganini left the stability of his appointment as court soloist to Princess Elisa Baciocchi, Napoleon Bonaparte’s sister, in the Italian city state, Lucca, to try his luck as a travelling soloist.12 Coming from the Italian tradition of string virtuosity—an aspect of the music culture in the Italian city-states that may have had a bearing on Giuliani’s own abilities as a performer—Paganini’s earliest forays into virtuosic composition and performance were inspired by Pietro Locatelli’s (1695-1764) L’arte del violino from 1733.13 Paganini composed his own virtuosic op. 1 24 Caprices using some of the violin techniques of Locatelli, such as double stops, passages in higher registers, and harmonics, in combination with his own technical inventions: double harmonics, left-hand pizzicato, and triple stops.14 Paganini’s desire for independence resulted in an active touring schedule that took him around the Italian and German states, Austria, France, and Great Britain from the time he left Lucca in 1809 until 1834 when the increasing severity of his health problems forced him to stop touring. Though the violin virtuoso is known to have been a skillful guitarist and composer for

12 Richard Taruskin, "Chapter 5 Virtuosos," in Music in the Nineteenth Century (New York: Oxford University Press, n.d.), paragraph 7. Retrieved 23 Oct. 2019, from https://www-oxfordwesternmusic- com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/view/Volume3/actrade-9780195384833-chapter-005.xml 13 Ibid., paragraph 6. 14 Edward Neil, "Paganini, Nicolò." Grove Music Online. 2001; Accessed 27 Oct. 2019. https://www- oxfordmusiconline- com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo-9781561592630- e-0000040008.

82 the instrument, he did not perform in public on the guitar and his virtuosity seems to have been perceived primarily in relation to the violin.15

Paganini’s success as a violin virtuoso was based as much on his cultivation of a unique virtuoso persona as it was on his unparalleled skill as a performer. Like Giuliani, he was aware of how to best showcase his ability on his instrument and he was keen to take advantage of the lucrative opportunities offered by a concert culture that was beginning to favor instrumental soloists. However, unlike Giuliani, Paganini developed a very specific type of stage persona that capitalized on his unusual, ‘demonic’ appearance. Paganini’s ‘demonic’ looks—the result of health issues that gave him a pale and sunken visage—gave him an otherworldly appearance in performance.16 He played into this association with the demonic, and made it seem as though his virtuosity and demonic power were two inseparable forces.17 As Mai Kawabata asserts in her 2013 monograph, Paganini’s virtuosity “harnessed, enabled, channeled, and symbolized various kinds of power—military, political, economic, social, and sexual—which he wielded to his advantage. Because his virtuosity was coded as ‘demonic’, as he was himself, and these forms of power were self-serving, egotistically driven, and self-gratifying, they became enmeshed as a big jumble of anti-virtues.”18 Paganini’s embodiment of power and demonicism was integral to his success as an independent violin virtuoso, as part of his public appeal was his captivating domination of the violin, the orchestra, the audience, and the music market.19

Though Giuliani and Paganini differed in their stage personae, they shared the same spirit of entrepreneurialism and self-promotion. Unlike Paganini, Giuliani and his peers were self- managing musicians; however, despite hiring a manager, Paganini maintained strict control of his business affairs, finding venues, placing advertisements, and occasionally taking it upon himself to sell concert tickets in disguise before a show.20 The virtuoso’s commitment to self- promotion made him a very wealthy man, as he took two-thirds of the profits from the sale of

15 Cătălin Ștefănescu-Pătrașcu, “Insights on Interpreting Niccolo Paganini’s Works for Classical Guitar,” Revart 23, no. 2 (2015): 46. 16 Richard Taruskin, "Chapter 5 Virtuosos," paragraphs 14-15. 17 Mai Kawabata, Paganini: the ‘Demonic’ Virtuoso (Woodbridge, UK: The Boydell Press, 2013), 77. 18 Ibid. 19 Ibid., 76. 20 Ibid., 78.

83 concert tickets.21 Though Paganini was more of an active proponent of touring compared to Giuliani—an aspect of his career that was made possible by the increased ease of travel after the Congress of Vienna22—he shared with Giuliani the same impulse to fully engage with the lucrative possibilities offered by the concert market, as I will demonstrate below.

Instrumental virtuosity of Giuliani’s time was also understood in relation to the types of concerts with which it was associated, namely the benefit concert and the virtuoso concert. The popularity of solo instrumental music, as David Wyn Jones argues in Music in Vienna: 1700, 1800, 1900, fostered a great interest in the performer and the act of performance amidst an increasing focus on the composer and notions of authorship in the early nineteenth century.23 Commercial concerts featuring the talents of Vienna’s foremost virtuosi, were considered a popular form of music entertainment in which the most dominant musical trends of the time were conflated.24 Italian opera and instrumental virtuosity became closely related in the form of the benefit concert because of the frequent inclusion of opera numbers and virtuosic variations and concerto movements on the programmes of these popular concerts. Benefit concerts were typically sponsored by a musician for his or her profit, one to two times a year, with the performer’s patrons often in attendance.25 Featuring a variety of performers and musical genres, it was also not uncommon for the benefit concert to feature a performer of greater repute than the sponsoring musician in order to drive ticket sales.26

Many of Giuliani’s performances in Vienna fall into the benefit concert or Akademie category; however, those that were not, or not explicitly labeled as such, took the form of the closely related virtuoso concert. Growing out of the benefit concert, the virtuoso concert was a precursor to the solo recital of the mid nineteenth century.27 However, unlike the solo recitals of later

21 Ibid. 22 Mark Kroll, Johann Nepomuk Hummel: A Musician’s Life and World (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 2007), 97. 23 David Wyn Jones, Music in Vienna: 1700, 1800, 1900 (Woodbridge, Suffolk: The Boydell Press, 2016), 113. 24 William Weber, Music and the Middle Class: The Social Structure of Concert Life in London, Paris, and Vienna Between 1830 and 1848, Second Edition (Burlington: Ashgate, 2004), 22–23. 25 William Weber, "Concert (ii)," Grove Music Online. 2001; accessed 29 Oct. 2019. https://www- oxfordmusiconline- com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo-9781561592630- e-0000006240. 26 Ibid. 27 Ibid.

84 virtuosi, the virtuoso concert of Giuliani’s time typically featured a variety of performers and genres, often programming an overture, a concerto movement, and a vocal ensemble or a solo piece in a lighter, popular style.28 These most popular trends typically included in the virtuoso concert were the widely popular style of Rossini’s early operas from the 1810s, and a new type of instrumental virtuosity built on various national-stylistic sources that revitalized the virtuosity of the eighteenth century and dominated European concert life in the first half of the nineteenth century.29 During these performances, virtuosi typically played their own compositions—most often variations on popular themes—which were best suited to showcasing their technical abilities. To add to the variety in programming, these popular concerts also made it a priority to showcase unusual novelty acts for their audience. Such novelty often took the form of performances by child prodigies, but it was not uncommon for virtuoso concerts to feature solo performances on instruments that were deemed unusual, exotic, or not typically associated with solo playing, such as the mandolin, harp, or harmonium.30

With its associations with less formal performance settings, folk music, and vocal accompaniment, the guitar in a solo setting would have represented the same novelty factor as other typically non-solo instruments that were showcased in this capacity. It was in this context that Giuliani premiered his first concerto for Viennese audiences, for whom the notion of the guitar as a featured solo instrument in a three-movement concerto would have been unusual, surprising, even thrilling. Commercial virtuoso concerts, such as those in which Giuliani was a participant, were designed for a specific faction of concert-goers who were invested in the entertainment value of the virtuoso performance. Drawing on examples from the early nineteenth century as well as the “Biedermeier period” from 1815-1848, Alice Hanson describes this audience as being composed of a mixture of classes.31 For these concert-goers, such performances were regarded as an exciting and entertaining means of escape from the pressures of everyday life.32 William Weber expands on this notion, explaining that attendees at these popular music concerts were often businessmen who temporarily escaped the money-related concerns of their careers, concerns that were typically related to the threat of bankruptcy, by

28 Hanson, Musical Life in Biedermeier Vienna, 98. 29 Ibid. 30 Ibid., 99. 31 Ibid., 98. 32 Ibid., 97.

85 distracting themselves with the awe-inspiring performances of instrumental virtuosi.33 Though Weber’s work examines a period decades after Giuliani’s time in Vienna, the type of popular music concert culture that he describes—that in which commercial public concerts were held in order to showcase the popular music styles of virtuosi—closely resembles the type of concert culture in which Giuliani was a participant. Weber’s study focusses on the more clearly defined and powerful middle class of the mid nineteenth century; however, the parallels between Giuliani’s concert culture and the popular commercial concerts of the 1830s and 1840s position Giuliani and his contemporaries as forerunners to this later period. Staple characteristics of Giuliani’s concerts, namely the variety of works and performers, the importance of ticket sales, and the showcasing of virtuosic ability through concerto movements and variation sets were still prominent aspects of the popular concerts of the 1830s and 1840s. Though more contemporary with Giuliani’s time, significant concert events of the early nineteenth century, such as the premiere of Haydn’s Seasons in 1801, Haydn’s famous last public appearance during a performance of The Creation in 1808, and Beethoven’s fifth symphony in 1808, are representative of another, more serious concert culture with which Giuliani had very little involvement.

The effect that virtuoso performers could have on listeners and spectators has prompted James Deaville to describe the virtuoso concert/stage as a site of the transfer of power from the virtuosi to their audience.34 In performance, the virtuoso represents a heroic figure that one can aspire to be, the fulfilment of both musical and personal goals. Musical fulfillment is represented by the virtuoso’s attainment of a high degree of technical skill, a desirable trait given the importance of music making in the domestic sphere, while the virtuoso’s seeming exemption from the rules of everyday social life represent the fulfilment of more personal desires.35 The popular music audience was primarily made up of members of the upper middle class, most of whom had some sort of connection with the musician holding the benefit concert. These connections were often initially forged in the salon, where performers would be sponsored by salon attendees to play at other salons or to provide members of their family with private music lessons.36 Such

33 Weber, Music and the Middle Class, 38. 34 James Deaville, “Virtuosity and the Virtuoso,” in Aesthetics of Music: Musicological Perspectives, ed. Stephen Downes (New York: Routledge, 2014), 277. 35 Lawrence Kramer, The Thought of Music (Oakland: University of California Press, 2016), Chapter 6 53/99. 36 Weber, Music and the Middle Class, 37.

86 relationships fostered an unspoken obligation for the family who had sponsored the musician to buy tickets to their benefit concerts, a pressure that inspired complaints from these families about pushy musicians.37 Despite these complaints, the people who attended virtuosic benefit concerts did enjoy the music they heard, a fact that seems clear given the great popularity of the virtuoso in Vienna in the early nineteenth century.38 This popularity, however, was a key element in distinguishing these benefit concerts from other types of public music performance at the time. As Alice Hanson argues in Musical Life in Biedermeier Vienna, the concert-goers who supported virtuosic display stood in opposition to the more musically “serious” aims of the concerts hosted by the Geselleschaft der Musikfreunde, for example.39 With the goal of elevating particular branches of music so that they could serve as tools towards self-cultivation, the concerts sponsored by the Geselleschaft der Musikfreunde were geared towards featuring serious music of previous generations such as Haydn and Handel.40 In addition to hosting and promoting its concerts, the society was also committed to collecting music-related documents such as scores, as well as implementing a conservatory system in Vienna.41 The society made use of the talents of both professional and amateur musicians, putting together concerts that were commercial but, unlike the virtuoso benefit concert, more closely resembled private concerts in terms of their size and lesser focus on ticket sales.42

Given the absence of symphonic movements from commercial public concert programmes, the concerto was the preeminent orchestral form in the virtuoso concert. As a genre, the concerto represented the codification of virtuosity in the early nineteenth century, not only because of the way it showcased the technical prowess of the soloist, but because of its representation of the soloist as a hero pitted against the collective identity of the orchestra, a metaphor that had great significance for the growing middle class.43 Though Giuliani and his work pre-date the more widespread use of this metaphor perpetuated by Liszt’s performances—as well as the more active participation of the middle class Vienna’s musical life—the idea of the heroic individual

37 Ibid. 38 Ibid. 39 Hanson, Musical Life in Biedermeier Vienna, 93. 40 Ibid. 41 Michael Musgrave, “‘Die Emporbringung der Musik’: the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde in Wien Celebrates 200 Years,” Notes 70/1 (2013): 83. 42 Ibid. 43 Richard Leppert, “The Social Discipline of Listening,” in Le concert et son public: mutations de la vie musicale en Europe de 1780 a 1914 (France, Allemagne, Angleterre), edited by Hans Eric Bödeker, Patrice Veit, and Michael Werner (Paris: Maison des sciences de l’homme, 2002), 481.

87 remains applicable in Giuliani’s case. The juxtaposition of the small, underpowered guitar against the large, dynamic capabilities of the orchestra certainly plays into the metaphor of heroism and perseverance associated with the concerto genre. Certainly, Giuliani’s approach to performance and composition serves to highlight this juxtaposition.

During the premiere of his first Guitar Concerto (to which I will return below), Giuliani established his position as one of Vienna’s foremost guitar virtuosi, but, as I would like to argue, Giuliani’s virtuosity did not just spring from impressive technical display and showmanship, but from his ability to challenge the perceived imperfections of the guitar and push the instrument to a limit that was deemed unnatural. The AmZ writer who reviewed the concerto premiere, though dubious about the guitar’s potential as a solo instrument, greatly admired Giuliani’s “diligence and perseverance in conquering the greatest difficulties.”44 Giuliani’s premiere performance of his Guitar Concerto in A Major op. 30 epitomizes the guitarist’s ability to overcome the difficulties posed by the instrument in that he was able to showcase the guitar and his unusual technical ability in a setting that was traditionally associated with virtuosity, but completely separate from the guitar culture at the time.

In aid of defining the concept of virtuosity, James Deaville investigates the site of virtuosity, questioning whether this site is a quality possessed by the performer, a feature of the music, or the act of exercising it.45 Deaville examines discourses on virtuosity from the late eighteenth century to the present day, analyzing how the site of virtuosity changes in these different contexts from being a quality possessed by the performer, to a product of the performance which is created by the communication between performer and audience.46 Deaville uses Franz Liszt as a central figure in his review of the literature on virtuosity; however, he begins his investigation by looking at the writings of the early Romantic German theoreticians of virtuosity who were more contemporaneous with Giuliani’s time. Philosophers like Hegel argued that the qualities of the virtuoso resided in the performer rather than the piece, an argument that, as Deaville points out, was developed in tandem with the notion that there were certain types of ‘genius’ performers

44 Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (May 1808): 538-9. Translated by Thomas Heck. 45 Deaville, “Virtuosity and the Virtuoso,” 277. 46 Ibid., 293.

88 who were capable of standing on equal footing with the composer.47 The idea that the site of Giuliani’s virtuosity is linked to a quality that he possessed—namely his ability to overcome a musical work’s technical challenges with ease—addresses just one aspect of Giuliani’s complex brand of virtuosity. I propose that the site of Giuliani’s virtuosity was linked to the guitar itself. His approach to guitar playing and his ability to overcome the physical and artistic challenges presented by the guitar as an inherently flawed instrument resulted in the transformation of the guitar in his hands, a transcendence of its limitations.

By analyzing a selection of Giuliani’s most significant performances during his time in Vienna, I intend to highlight elements of the guitarist’s performances that contributed to the cultivation of his virtuoso status while exploring the unique, guitar-related conditions in which this status was achieved. I have chosen, for consideration, three of Giuliani’s public performances which are representative of different points during Giuliani’s stay in Vienna and reflect the variety of performers and genres featured in the concerts of this time. These performances illustrate the conditions under which Giuliani’s virtuosity was projected and received while painting a picture of the nature of Vienna’s virtuoso concert culture in the early nineteenth century. The number of surviving primary sources related to Giuliani’s performances is limited, and the exact details of his concerts—such as the program, all performers involved, or even the venue—are not always known. However, with the information that is available, it is possible to piece together a picture of Giuliani’s performance-related activities.

3.3 A Guitar Virtuoso in Vienna: Three Performance Vignettes from 1808-1818

3.3.1 April 2, 1808

Location: Likely the Large Redoutensaal, Hofburg Palace

Programme: Concerto for Guitar and Orchestra in A Major op. 30, Orchestral Variations on “Nel cor piu” op. 65

47 Ibid., 268. Hegel argues that the performer has the power to infuse the musical work with the same life and soul given to it by the composer if he/she submits to the character of the work without adding anything new. This can be accomplished by a virtuoso capable of solving the work’s technical problems with ease. Dealing with a piece’s technical elements without struggle was viewed as an act of genius as it helped the musical reproduction reach the spiritual height of the composer by bringing it to life. See Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Vorlesungen über die Ästhetik, ed. Eva Moldenhauer and Karl Markus Michel (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1986), 219-221. Translated by Mary Hunter.

Giuliani’s frequent concertizing garnered a great deal of public attention for him and the admiration of both critics and concertgoers, regardless of their skepticism concerning the guitar’s suitability for soloistic performance. Though he performed in Vienna consistently from the time of his arrival, the first performance to truly assert his position as a guitar virtuoso was the premiere of his Guitar Concerto in A Major op. 30 in 1808. Likely taking place at Vienna’s Redoutensaal, the concert featured the concerto with orchestral accompaniment as well as a set of variations for guitar and string quartet, which Thomas Heck believes to have been Giuliani’s variations on “Nel cor piu” op. 65, published by Ricordi in 1816.48

A three-movement work arranged in the typical concerto order (fast-slow-fast) with predictable key relationships, Giuliani’s concerto is traditional in its form, and also conventional in its harmonic language. Despite his conservative approach to composition in these respects, Giuliani was in fact innovating with this piece, designing the concerto to work with the guitar’s limited dynamic range while allowing him to demonstrate his ability to not only play dazzlingly fast passages with precision, but to combine melody and harmony in a way that was unlike the guitar accompaniment styles the audience would have been more accustomed to hearing. Commenting on the novelty of this instrumentation, one AmZ reviewer’s invitation to his reader to “imagine a guitar next to an orchestra with trumpets and kettle-drums,” draws attention to the guitar’s unusual position in this unlikely genre.49 However, percussion and trumpet parts are conspicuously missing from the score published after the premiere, with the concerto instead being scored for violin I and II, viola, cello and bass, violin ripieno I and II, flute I and II, oboe I and II, clarinet I and II, as well as bassoon I and II and French horn I and II. Despite the absence of percussion and trumpet from the parts that were published by Bureau des Arts et d’Industrie in 1810, the AmZ reviewer’s evocation of the image of trumpets and kettle-drums suggests that perhaps the premiere of the concerto did indeed feature these instruments. Though it seems that the reviewer was sarcastically pointing out what he viewed as the absurdity of a guitar concerto in general, it is possible that Giuliani decided to omit the percussion and trumpets when the piece went to publication. Given the acoustic challenges that the inclusion of percussion posed for the guitar, perhaps the guitarist was unhappy with the balance between the guitar and the orchestra during the concerto’s inaugural performance, and removed the parts for future performances.

48 Thomas Heck, Mauro Giuliani: a Life for the Guitar (GFA Refereed Monographs, 2013, Kindle Edition), location 9772. 49 Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (May 1808): 538-539. Translated by Thomas Heck.

Attentive to the guitar’s dynamic limitations, Giuliani was very particular about the way the guitar was accompanied in solo sections. Overall, solo sections are very sparsely accompanied by the orchestra, with simple, quarter-note accompaniment to fill out the harmony, or echoing lines in the violin that serve to reiterate a statement made by the guitar. Despite the presence of orchestral accompaniment, Giuliani’s writing for the guitar does not reject the instrument’s accompanimental capabilities, but rather showcases its potential to accompany itself while playing a melody, a trait normally associated with the piano. Though it is more texturally sparse compared to his solo works, the presence of melody and harmony in the guitar part is very similar to Giuliani’s writing in his solo sonata and variations, a style that he was already using by the time of this premiere. This style stands in stark contrast to the accompanimental strumming styles of guitar playing Giuliani’s audience would have been familiar with.

The guitarist’s first solo in the first movement is a prime example of Giuliani’s attempt to showcase the guitar’s ability to combine melody and harmony. Though the sparse orchestral accompaniment here was more likely intended to make it easier for the audience to hear the guitar at this critical moment—a compositional decision that is supported by Giuliani’s inclusion of a piano indication for the orchestra—it nevertheless gives the guitar an opportunity to fill out the harmony on its own. The anacrusis of the first solo is followed by a full A major chord and a series of sixths and thirds (Example 3.1).

Example 3.1 Beginning of the guitar solo from Giuliani’s op. 30.

Despite the eventual re-entry of the orchestra into the texture, the guitar continues to accompany itself, either by inserting bass notes to reaffirm the harmony being played by the orchestra as in mm.108-9 or by playing full chords to accompany a series of melody notes in the soprano voice as in m.112 (Example 3.2). Interspersed within these demonstrations of the guitar’s ability to accompany itself are virtuosic sixteenth-note passages.

Example 3.2 Excerpt from Giuliani’s op. 30 Guitar Concerto, first movement.

In most cases, these passages are designed to showcase how quickly and easily Giuliani can travel up and down the neck, a feat made possible by the strategic placement of open strings to facilitate position shifts as well as slurs. Such displays certainly contributed to the element of

92 spectacle that virtuoso concerts such as Giuliani’s attempted to achieve, presenting the audience with a musical performance that is stunning in its use of visual cues to signal the difficulty of such passages, but enabling Giuliani to perform the passage with ease.

The types of physical motions that Giuliani enacted during his performances, as well as the sound resulting from those actions, were at once facilitated and constrained by the guitar’s affordances. In his 2017 publication, Music at Hand: Instruments, Bodies, Cognition, Jonathan De Souza asserts that affordances and abilities are co-defined, explaining that “affordances involve a specific complementarity of animal and environment, that is, they are possibilities for action by a particular agent.”50 An instrument’s affordances simultaneously facilitate and constrain its sound, as well as the actions of its player.51 The coordination of the player’s body with the sound of the instrument is made possible by the physical and cultural invariances of the instrument.52 The physical invariances of the guitar include the raising of pitches as vibrating strings are shortened by the player’s fingers, and natural harmonics at the twelfth fret, both of which are aspects of playing determined by the instrument’s inherent acoustic properties.53 Cultural invariances include aspects of the instrument which are determined by musical tradition, such as fret placement along the neck and the tuning of the strings.54 De Souza argues that the “...consistent mediation is essential to instrumentalists’ auditory-motor correspondences—that is, to specific mappings between actions and musical materials.”55 While instruments are made to interface with human physiology, playing an instrument also demands that the player possess a level of knowledge regarding cultural techniques associated with playing.56

The guitar, acting as a mediator between Giuliani’s ability and the sound experienced by his audience, affords certain actions and musical textures while restricting others. The tuning of the strings, a cultural invariance, affords the aforementioned fast position changes up the neck using the open strings, while its physical invariances afford the natural as well as artificial harmonics that Giuliani so often employed in this concerto and other works.57 Similarly, the guitar restricts

50 Jonathan De Souza, Music at Hand: Instruments, Bodies, Cognition (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017), 12. 51 Ibid., 15. 52 Ibid. 53 Ibid., 13. 54 Ibid.. 55 Ibid., 15. 56 Ibid., 13. 57 Ibid.

93 certain bodily motions as well as sounds. The guitar could be played while seated or standing, using small right and left-hand gestures to fret notes and pluck the strings. Shorter neck lengths on early nineteenth-century guitars meant a smaller range compared to the modern guitar, while the instrument’s tuning both afforded certain sounds and gestures, and restricted particular chord voicings.

Perhaps the most obvious of the guitar’s restrictions was its limited dynamic range, a characteristic of the instrument that was also affected by the spaces in which Giuliani frequently performed. There are no surviving printed programmes or concert advertisements from this event, so it is unclear as to whether Giuliani premiered his concerto in the large or small Redoutensaal. Neither do contemporary reviews of the concert specify which of the two rooms was used on this occasion; however, in subsequent reviews of Giuliani’s other performances which took place at the Redoutensaal, the reviewer typically specifies that the concert was held in the small Redoutensaal. The absence of specificity regarding the size of the room used for Giuliani’s concerto premiere, I believe, suggests that the concert likely took place in the large Redoutensaal. The large Redoutensaal and its smaller counterpart were originally built in 1629- 30. After several renovations, the two rooms were also used as ballrooms where, after 1747, most of Vienna’s masquerades were held.58 Though certain class distinctions were still observed—court members abstained from dancing and aristocrats danced quadrilles exclusively—these masked balls provided a somewhat anonymous forum for social interaction between the classes.59 As multi-purpose spaces, the Redoutensaalen remained Vienna’s preeminent concert venues well into the nineteenth century. The larger of the two, which seated 1500 people,60 was the largest concert venue in Vienna until 1870, when the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde opened the more capacious Grosser Musikvereinssaal.61 Over the course of the nineteenth century the large Redoutensaal played host to the premiere of several significant works, including Haydn’s Seasons (1801) and Beethoven’s Symphony no.8 (1814).62

58 Hanson, Musical Life in Biedermeier Vienna, 160. 59 Ibid. 60 Ingeborg Harer, “Musical Venues in Vienna,” Performance Practice Review 8/1 (1995), 84. 61 Michael Barron, Auditorium Acoustics and Architectural Design, second edition (New York: Spon Press/Taylor and Francis, 2010), 80. 62 Harer, “Musical Venues,” 84.

The rectangular, shoe-box shape of both the small and large Redoutensaal, though simple and traditional, featured some unique architectural features that contributed to the audience’s experience of the music that they heard in the venue. Michael Barron’s research on the acoustical properties of the classical shoe-box concert hall concludes that such performance spaces were capable of creating the experience of hearing sound from all directions.63 This impression was owed to the wall treatment found in nineteenth-century rectangular concert halls like the Redoutensaal.64 While a lightly textured or profiled surface will scatter high-frequency sounds, a concert hall with walls that are highly textured will scatter sounds at lower frequencies, creating a diffuse sound field and the experience of sound coming from all around.65 Surface decoration on the walls, such as those found in the large Redoutensaal, I contend, would contribute to the audience’s experience of a diffusive sound experience. Though the large and small Redoutensaalen were not constructed with the purpose of maximizing acoustical potential, the large Redoutensaal in particular was admired for its acoustical properties and was used as a template for the construction of the Grosser Musikvereinssaal. The hall’s high ceilings would have allowed for a greater reverberation time. Standing at 16 meters tall, the Redoutensaal’s ceilings were scaled up by 12% in the construction of the Grosser Musikvereinssaal, but the modelling of the Musikvereinssaal after the dimensions of the Redoutensaal stands as a testament to the quality of the older hall’s acoustics.66

The acoustical properties of the Redoutensaal are significant to a consideration of the impact of Giuliani’s first concerto premiere, in that they help to create a picture of how the guitarist’s performance was experienced by his listeners and how the guitar—an instrument which was perceived as dynamically underpowered—would have fared in a concerto setting. With smaller bodies compared to modern guitars and the use of gut strings, the guitars of Giuliani’s time were certainly underpowered relative to other concert instruments, especially when pitted against an orchestra.67 Another significant detail regarding Giuliani’s sound production on the guitar that is often disputed is whether the guitarist played with the fingernails of his right hand. Though it

63 Barron, Auditorium Acoustics, 45. 64 Ibid. 65 Ibid., 16. 66 Ibid., 80. 67 Because of its less sophisticated construction (guitars do not feature sound posts or arched tops) and the manner of plucking the strings as opposed to bowing them, the guitar faced volume-related challenges that were not issues for the violin.

95 was common practice for guitarists from Italy and France to play without nails in the late eighteenth century, such national distinctions become unclear in the early nineteenth century as Fernando Sor, Giuliani’s contemporary, rejected the Spanish tradition of playing with the fingernails.68 Given the greater dynamic possibilities offered by playing with nails, it is possible that Giuliani did play with the right-hand fingernails as opposed to just the flesh of the finger;69 however, with or without the use of fingernails, the guitar’s construction severely limited the instrument’s dynamic capabilities. Despite these limitations, the acoustical properties of the Redoutensaal, coupled with Giuliani’s method of balancing the dynamic levels of the orchestra while the guitar was playing, would have presented the guitar in the best possible way. The hall’s reverberation and scattering effects would have presented the audience with an impressive orchestral sound during tutti sections while giving the guitar a slight dynamic boost during Giuliani’s solos. This would, by no means, have made the guitar sound powerful in comparison to the orchestra—especially since the orchestral forces employed included French horns—but it may have helped the instrument project enough for the audience to fully experience the intricacies of Giuliani’s playing.

In a review of the concert published in May 1808, one writer for the AmZ certainly does mention the fact that the guitar has serious dynamic limitations, but does not discuss how these limitations affected the listener’s experience of the performance. Instead he mentions the guitar’s deficiencies as an argument against the possibility of soloistic writing for the instrument while ironically praising Giuliani’s performance and describing the positive response that he garnered from the audience:

On the third, in the Redoutensaal, Giuliani, perhaps the greatest guitarist who has ever lived, gave an Akademie which was received with deserved applause. One absolutely had to have heard the musician himself in order to get an idea of his unusual skill and his precise, tasteful execution… No one could refuse him his admiration and applause, and the audience showed such enthusiasm as is seldom evoked even by the best masters. Inasmuch as one should acclaim the most outstanding [composition] that had yet been written for and performed on this instrument in Germany—for it is certain that Giuliani has done both— inasmuch, I say, as one should acclaim this, such enthusiasm is to be praised. But if one considers the music itself…Well, just try to imagine a guitar next to an orchestra with trumpets and kettle-drums. Isn’t it almost unbelievably

68 Tyler and Sparks, The Guitar and its Music, 261. 69 Anthony Glise, Classical Guitar Pedagogy: A Handbook for Teachers (St. Joseph, M.O.: Mel Bay Publications, 1997), 37.

amateurish to devote such great talent, as Giuliani has done, to this perennially weak-volume instrument? Or [for the audience] to take so lively an interest in the virtuoso and his art as to regard his work so highly? I for one, could not avoid thinking, while listening, what Music would have gained if this talent, this incredible diligence and perseverance in conquering the greatest difficulties, had been applied to an instrument more rewarding even to the musician himself. Has not every instrument its own limits decreed by nature? And if these are violated, must not the result be something strangely artificial, or even deformed? We must put the guitar back in its place—let it stick to accompaniment—and we will always be happy to hear it. But as a solo instrument, it can be justified and appreciated only by “fashion.” It should be obvious that I in no way mean to degrade Giuliani’s true worth as a composer and virtuoso.70

The AmZ reviewer admired Giuliani’s skill and tasteful execution, but argued that his talents were wasted in his efforts to champion solo guitar repertoire. As Thomas Heck notes, this review aptly summarizes the common attitude that was held toward the guitar at the time: namely, that it was an instrument best suited for accompaniment, and any other use was contrary to its true nature.71

In many ways, Giuliani’s performance of his first of three guitar concerti adhered to tenets of virtuosity that had been established by his pianistic contemporaries. The solo parts that Giuliani wrote for his first concerto exemplify the kind of virtuosity that Viennese audiences were becoming increasingly accustomed to by the time of this premiere; however, Giuliani’s virtuoso status stemmed not only from his playing ability, but from the nature of his interactions with the guitar on stage. Unlike his virtuosic successors in the mid nineteenth century, Giuliani and his contemporaries established their virtuoso status as exceptional instrumental technicians rather than interpreters.72 In performance, the virtuoso’s instrument, as Lawrence Kramer argues in Musical Meaning, is a machine that must be manually operated by the virtuoso while simultaneously being spiritualized.73 While the transformation of the instrument in the hands of the virtuoso invoked by Kramer refers primarily to Franz Liszt’s virtuosic displays and resulting transcendental expression, the inherent duality of the nature of the virtuoso’s instrument—this

70 Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (May 1808): 538-539. Translated by Thomas Heck. 71 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 1249. 72 Deaville, “A Star is Born,” 54. 73 Lawrence Kramer, “Franz Liszt and the Virtuoso Public Sphere: Sight and Sound in the Rise of Mass Entertainment,” in Musical Meaning: Toward a Critical History, ed. Lawrence Kramer (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), 69.

97 juxtaposition of the earthly and mundane with the supernatural or spiritual—is also applicable to the guitar as it serves to hint at the site of Giuliani’s virtuosity.

The AmZ reviewer of Giuliani’s concerto premiere finds fault with Giuliani’s playing in that it pushed the guitar beyond its natural limit, creating something that, he argues, is superficial and deformed. The reviewer’s invocation of the deformed suggests that he believed Giuliani’s playing to be unnatural. Despite the negative connotation of such a statement, the notion that Giuliani’s playing challenged the physical limitations of the guitar suggests that perceptions of his virtuosity were uniquely linked to the instrument itself. His virtuosity was not only derived from transcending the boundaries of what was humanly possible, but what was possible on an instrument that was deemed to have very limiting natural deficiencies. The reviewer’s description of the product of Giuliani’s labours as superficial and deformed certainly plays into later discourses on virtuosity as cheap and flashy,74 but his observation that Giuliani was conquering and violating the guitar’s natural limits plays into the tension between the natural and unnatural in which the virtuoso’s role was rooted. Additionally, the notion that Giuliani was conquering the difficulties posed by the instrument’s limitations recalls contemporaneous discourses of Napoleonic conquest and heroism. Though the ideas of struggle and confrontation may seem to create tension with the image of the virtuoso performing with ease, I suggest that in Giuliani’s case, the guitar’s struggle was understood by audiences outside of the context of his performances, thus making his effortless triumph over these obstacles even more impressive.

Prior to Giuliani’s time, the concerto tradition to engage most fully with notions of confrontation and competition between soloist and ensemble was that of Mozart. More specifically, as Simon Keefe notes in Mozart’s Piano Concertos: Dramatic Dialogue in the Age of Enlightenment, dialogue between the soloist and orchestra in a concerto setting oscillates between cooperation and competition in order to create drama that was akin to the works of contemporary dramatists.75 The alternation between solo and orchestral forces is the main component of this dialogue which can embody several behavioural types, including co-operation, competition, confrontation, conflict, and struggle.76 The notion of confrontation comes from the contrast

74 Ibid., 69. 75 Simon P. Keefe, Mozart’s Piano Concertos: Dramatic Dialogue in the Age of Enlightenment (Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 2001), 73. 76 Ibid., 47.

98 between the soloist and the orchestra. Keefe argues that the solo piano, the strings, and the winds in Mozart’s concerti represent distinct timbral groups, establishing them as three principal interlocutors in the concerto’s dramatic dialogue.77 These three distinct timbral groups also serve to highlight the soloist's difference from the other instruments, a difference that positions the soloist as an individual voice against many.78 As a plucked string instrument, the guitar, like the piano, is a timbral outsider in the context of Giuliani’s concerto.79 Moments of cooperative dialogue are enacted when the orchestra lightly supports the guitar; however, moments of conflict between the guitar and its interlocutors are created when the orchestra attempts fuller accompanimental textures, not only threatening to overpower the guitar, but competing with its ability to accompany itself.

As far as the musical conquest metaphor is concerned, Giuliani certainly did have many guitar- related challenges to contend with. Aside from the dynamic challenges posed by pitting the guitar against an orchestra, the physical limitations imposed on the performer’s body by the instrument itself and early nineteenth-century styles of playing formed another barrier for Giuliani to overcome. It is not clear if Giuliani was standing with his guitar during this performance; however, the player’s typically seated position, and multiple bodily contact points with the instrument, allow very little opportunity for extraneous bodily movement and expression. Playing the guitar in the classical style involves mostly small, minute gestures that are not necessarily entertaining or eye-catching for the audience. Arguably, in Giuliani’s time, the player’s forward-facing position offered a clearer view of his or her face and facial expressions compared to the pre-Liszt position of keyboard players, but offered few other opportunities for the performer to showcase their virtuosity in a visual way.

Though the idea of visual interest that played an important role in Liszt’s performances later in the century was not as prominent in the performance style of Giuliani’s generation, the visual aspect of virtuoso concerts nevertheless played a role in the spectacle of these performances. As

77 Ibid., 36. 78 Charles Rosen, The Classical Style: Haydn, Beethoven, Mozart (London: Faber, 1971), 233. 79 In the late eighteenth century, technological developments combined with the consolidation of the orchestra’s diverse instruments led to new ways of orchestral writing. These new approaches to orchestral writing, represented by Haydn’s late works, cemented the notion that instruments had distinct personalities and characters; that they were effectively understandable as citizens of a musical society. See Emily I. Dolan, The Orchestral Revolution: Haydn and the Technologies of Timbre (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 162.

Richard Leppert notes in “Cultural Contradiction, Idolatry, and the Piano Virtuoso: Franz Liszt,” performer’s bodies were significant in that they helped to transliterate musical sound into musical meaning through the sense of sight.80 As the product of music making is something ethereal and temporary, “the visual experience of the production of music is crucial to musicians and audiences alike for locating and communicating the place of music and musical sound within society and culture.”81 Considering the physical constrictions placed on Giuliani by the guitar, what kind of musical meaning was communicated by his body and what kind of physical actions was he able to make? For Viennese audiences who were accustomed to hearing and seeing the guitar played in an accompaniment role, the way Giuliani looked while playing would have been unfamiliar. In contrast to solo playing, when accompanying another musician with chords, a guitarist’s left hand typically moves, depending on the harmonic rhythm, once or twice per measure. If strumming, the right hand will move up and down across the strings in an established pattern. Alternatively, the chords of some accompaniment parts could be played by using the right-hand fingers to pluck rather than strum the block chords, or the chords could be arpeggiated using the individual fingers of the right hand. Giuliani’s own guitar accompaniment parts for songs that he composed while in Vienna are prime examples of the type of guitar playing his audiences would have been familiar with and would have expected from the instrument. Giuliani’s 1816 setting of Theodor Koerner’s “Der treue Tod” (WoO, vocal-10) features the aforementioned characteristics of early nineteenth-century accompanimental guitar parts, namely block chords with a slow harmonic rhythm resulting in very little movement for the guitarist’s left and right hands (Example 3.3).82

80 Richard Leppert, “Cultural Contradiction, Idolatry, and the Piano Virtuoso: Franz Liszt,” in Piano Roles: Three Centuries of Life with the Piano, ed. James Parakilas (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999), 203. 81 Richard Leppert, “The Social Discipline of Listening,” in Le concert et son public: mutations de la vie musicale en Europe de 1780 à 1914 (France, Allemagne, Angleterre), edited by Hans Eric Bödeker, Patrice Veit, and Michael Werner (Paris: Maison des sciences de l’homme, 2002), 461. 82 “Der treue Tod” is the German language version of “La Sentinelle”, one of the pieces Giuliani performed with Hummel and Mayseder during the Congress of Vienna as discussed in Chapter 2. See Heck, A Life for the Guitar, location 7344.

100

In comparison with the mode of guitar accompaniment that most Viennese concert-goers would have experienced previously, Giuliani’s style of solo playing would have seemed to demand a more physically active approach. Not only does solo guitar playing require faster movement from both hands, but it also takes advantage of more of the fretboard as well as eliciting more precise motions in the right hand. For example, the Concerto in A Major features countless sixteenth-note octave runs—technically demanding passages that offer some degree of visual spectacle for the audience. One of the first of these octave runs appears towards the end of the first movement’s exposition during the soloist’s closing theme. The closing theme begins with four measures of ascending thirds that can be played on adjacent strings and in m.181 these thirds become octaves (Example 3.4). The octaves begin in the guitar’s first position, starting with the fourth string E and open E on the first string. Depending on how Giuliani decided to finger the remaining octaves, his left hand would have travelled from first position, up to 9th or 12th position on the guitar. Moving to 12th position seems more likely as it would have allowed Giuliani to make use of the first and fourth strings throughout the duration of the run rather than

Example 3.3 Der treue Tod (WoO, vocal-10). switching to the first and third strings partway through. Staying on the same strings facilitates the continuity of a melodic line, while switching strings partway through will result in a different timbre, thus jeopardizing the melodic continuity from an aural perspective.

101

Though perhaps not as visually interesting as a keyboard player executing octaves, Giuliani’s octaves allowed him to demonstrate to his audience his command of the fretboard in a gesture that required fast horizontal movement across the guitar neck, motion that would have been visible to his audience. This left-hand gesture would also have been complemented by rapid right-hand fingering in the passage. Unlike the strummed chords of many accompaniment styles, an ascending octave run requires more precise fingering and, when played at tempo, very minute gestures. Giuliani would most likely have played the lower note of each octave pair with his right-hand thumb while playing the upper note of each octave with alternating index and middle fingers, or exclusively with the middle finger. In these octave runs, Giuliani combined two physical guitar-playing gestures that would have been unfamiliar to his audience: the fast traversal up the fretboard with the left hand and the fast, but refined, picking pattern with the right hand.

102

Example 3.4 Closing theme from Giuliani’s op. 30 Guitar Concerto, first movement.

The former would have represented a dramatic departure from the mostly static left hand of guitar accompaniment styles, the fast run of single notes suggesting the passage’s complexity. Similarly, the more refined movements of the right hand would have not only suggested the need for precision in contrast to the sweeping gesture required when strumming chords, but the minute nature of the gesture itself—which would have been barely visible to audience members seated far away from the stage—makes it appear effortless.

103

Giuliani’s brand of virtuosity was not just based on stunning performative display, but the notion that he was persevering against seemingly insurmountable challenges and exceeding not only what was thought to be humanly possible, but possible for the guitar itself. While the AmZ reviewer described the result of Giuliani’s efforts as superficial and deformed, this suggestion points to a transformation, for better or for worse, of the guitar in Giuliani’s hands. Though not quite the spiritualized machine described by Lawrence Kramer, the guitar nevertheless underwent a transformation, a transcendence of its own physical limitations, during Giuliani’s performance. I believe it was this ability to transform the guitar into something that contradicted the audience’s perceptions of the instrument that solidified and formed the basis of Giuliani’s virtuosity.

3.3.2 January 1, 1812

Location: Small Redoutensaal, Hofburg Palace

Possible Programme: Seidler’s Violin Concerto, variations for Violin and Guitar by Giuliani (op. 24a according to Thomas Heck), variations for violin with orchestral accompaniment, Janissary music by Bernhard Romberg, Cimarosa aria sung by Anna Maria Sessi, and a duet by Paër sung by Sessi and Antoinette Laucher

Compared to the premiere of his first concerto, Giuliani’s 1812 performance with Karl Seidler (1778-1840) took the form of a more typical early nineteenth-century virtuoso concert in that the programme featured more diverse offerings with respect to genre, instrumentation, and performers. As one of the foremost violinists of his day, Seidler was an active participant in Vienna’s concert culture. His wife, Caroline, was also a renowned soprano and the first singer to play the role of Agathe in the Berlin premiere of Max Weber’s Der Freischütz in 1821.83 Like Seidler, the featured vocalist on the programme, Anna Maria Sessi (1790-1864), also enjoyed a successful performance career. Sessi, an Italian-born singer, actively performed in Vienna and eventually Leipzig from 1810-1830. In addition to appearing in concert, she was known for her portrayals of Donna Anna in Mozart’s Don Giovanni as well as the Countess in his Le nozze di Figaro.84

83 Wayne M. Senner, Robin Wallace, and William Meredith eds., The Critical Reception of Beethoven’s Compositions by his German Contemporaries, Volume 2 (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2001), 86. 84 Ibid., 44.

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It was in the company of these renowned musicians that Giuliani performed in the small Redoutensaal at the beginning of 1812. Like its larger counterpart, the small Redoutensaal is a shoebox-shaped hall which, at the time, could seat up to 400 people and was also a multi-purpose space which often played host to the city’s balls.85 Throughout his time in Vienna Giuliani frequently performed at the small Redoutensaal as it was one of Vienna’s most appropriately sized concert venues for guitar performances. The small Redoutensaal’s size meant that the sound was more direct, reaching more listeners and being augmented by the hall’s reflective surfaces such as plaster and glass.86 In fact, among the concert halls used most frequently by Beethoven in the early nineteenth century, the small Redoutensaal was one of the five loudest halls, with reverberation augmenting its direct sound to just under 14 decibels.87

The prevalence of variations in the programme for this concert speaks to the nature of the preferred genres in Vienna’s popular concert culture in the absence of genres typically associated with sonata form. Despite the derogatory connotations that variation forms have carried in more recent eras when development was prized over repetition, in the early nineteenth century variation form was in vogue.88 As discussed in Chapter 2, the rise of salon culture in Europe’s most musically active capitals such as Paris and Vienna instigated the proliferation of variation form amongst private music-making forums in these cities.89 The mass appeal of variation form not only stemmed from their easy comprehensibility for the listener, but also from their potentially easy accessibility from a performance perspective when written for amateur musicians. Many publishers at the time were focussed on producing scores for domestic music making and variation form offered amateur musicians a relatively simple means of making music by varying a theme with rhythmic diminution, key changes, and tempo changes.90 Such conservative variation techniques were often created for the purposes of domestic music making

85 Harer, “Musical Venues in Vienna,” 84. 86 John Spitzer, “Beethoven’s Acoustics,” Beethoven Forum 12/2 (Fall 2005): 212. 87 Ibid., 213. 88 Craig C. Cummings, “Large-Scale Coherence in Selected Nineteenth-Century Piano Variations,” (Ph.D. Diss., Indiana University, 1991), 10. 89 Cummings, “Nineteenth-Century Piano Variations,” 12-13. 90 Carl Czerny’s three-volume treatise School of Practical Composition (1830) was designed to aid amateur musicians in creating and performing music at home. Czerny advocated for the composition and performance of variation sets in volume 1 of his treatise, arguing that the form allowed the composer to demonstrate taste, skill, grace, and originality. Given the perpetual popularity of opera airs, national songs, and other popular melodies Czerny asserts that variations will never grow old. See Carl Czerny, School of Practical Composition Volume 1, trans. John Bishop (London: Robert Cocks & Co., 1848), 21.

105 and typically did not stray far from the original theme.91 The themes that were used as the basis for these amateur sets, as well as those played by virtuosi in public performances, were typically popular songs ranging from well-known opera arias to folk melodies.

Despite the seeming simplicity of variation form, it also had great potential for virtuosic display and improvisation, allowing it to permeate the boundaries between private and public music- making activities. Such pieces could be performed by the instrumental virtuoso both in the salon and in the commercial benefit concert. Eventually, the mass popularity of variations and the prevalence of the form in public and private music forums lead to the view that it had been exploited, giving rise to pieces that were overly decadent and lacking in musical value.92 The eventual backlash against variation form inspired contemporary theorists to consider ways the form could be saved, or the conditions under which it was deemed acceptable.93 In 1837 Adolf Bernhard Marx expressed the opinion that the genre was acceptable provided that the composition was artistically and musically coherent.94 Ultimately, the consistent use of variations in Beethoven’s late works encouraged the continued support of the genre; however, Beethoven’s use of the form as part of large-scale works, and his movement towards a freer variation style resulted in the decline of the more conservative variation genre employed by the salon and its musicians.95

In terms of style, Giuliani’s use of variation form falls in between the more conservative rhythmic acceleration approach used in domestic music making and Beethoven’s freer treatment of the theme in his late works. This middle ground, as described by Craig C. Cummings, is embodied by the variation sets of the early nineteenth century which were structurally conservative in that they maintained the proportions and harmonic framework of the theme. However, these sets did not rely solely on rhythmic diminution as a means of variation and instead incorporated motivic development techniques, allowing for a more creative treatment of the theme.96

91 Cummings, “Nineteenth-Century Piano Variations,” 10. 92 Ibid., 13. 93 Ibid., 8-13. 94 Adolf Bernhard Marx, Die Lehre von der musikalischen Kompoistion, volume 3 (Leipzig: Breitkopf und Härtel, 1837-47), 53. Quoted in Cummings, “Nineteenth-Century Piano Variations,” 13-14. 95 Cummings, “Nineteenth-Century Piano Variations,” 8. 96 Ibid., 9.

106

Owing to the lack of record-keeping for popular public concerts at the time—official programmes were not always printed and many concerts went without newspaper advertisements97—the exact programme for Giuliani’s concert with Seidler is not known. Considering that Giuliani published a set of variations for guitar and piano in April of 1812, Thomas Heck believes that the guitarist performed his op. 24a variations with Seidler at this particular performance.98 Dedicated to a Francois Revenaz, Giuliani’s op. 24a contains four variations on an original theme—rather than a popular song—culminating in a lively polonaise, exemplifying the type of structurally conservative but motivically developmental variations that Cummings describes. This variation set features an interesting balance of soloistic display between the violin and guitar, with the two instruments trading off on solo parts as they accompany each other. Giuliani provided the theme, which is played by the violin, with a very simple guitar accompaniment of arpeggiated chords.

Surprisingly, the first variation immediately rejects this established hierarchy between the two instruments. This variation not only features rhythmic diminution, but also represents a sudden, and seemingly spontaneous, soloistic display from the guitarist. In this variation, Giuliani accompanies himself, filling out the harmony in the inner voices and bass while playing the varied theme on the guitar’s treble strings (Example 3.5). This first variation is a dramatic departure from the theme as Giuliani does not strictly adhere to its melody, instead retaining the harmonic structure of the theme but borrowing motivic fragments from the theme to create a new melody. As the variation progresses, Giuliani’s writing drifts further from the theme, using the variation to establish the set as a virtuosic showpiece. What is significant about this variation is not only that it represented an opportunity for Giuliani to demonstrate his virtuosity in an instrumental pairing that would traditionally relegate the guitar to an accompanimental role, but that Giuliani’s writing in this variation makes the violin accompaniment seem almost unnecessary. During this virtuosic display, Seidler’s violin, which is marked pianissimo in the score, doubles the chord tones played by Giuliani while adding appoggiaturas for harmonic interest.

97 Otto Biba, “Concert Life in Beethoven’s Vienna,” in Beethoven, Performers, and Critics: International Beethoven Congress Detroit, 1977 ed. Robert Winter and Bruce Carr (Detroit: Wayne State University, 1980), 82. 98 Heck, A Life for the Guitar, location 9855.

107

Example 3.5 Variation 1 from Giuliani’s op. 24a.

Continuing the display of virtuosity in variation 2, the violin and guitar parts revert to their original roles of soloist and accompanist respectively. In this variation, Giuliani provided Seidler with blazing thirty-second note runs, again maintaining the harmonic structure of the theme but departing from its melody in favour of more virtuosic playing. Giuliani accompanied Seidler with a more varied chordal style compared to that used with the theme. Beginning with root position chords alternating with bass notes, the guitar accompaniment for this variation becomes more interesting as the variation progresses. Eventually, in the B section of the variation, Giuliani’s guitar accompaniment interacts more with Seidler’s solo playing, moving away from the root position chords and bass notes towards ascending thirds to create contrary motion with Seidler’s descending thirty-second note runs, arpeggiated chords to fill out the texture during Seidler’s longer notes, and playing descending octaves in unison with Seidler for greater dramatic effect (Example 3.6). Little by little the guitar asserts itself in the texture of the variation, demonstrating a great degree of variety and flexibility in its style of accompaniment.

108

109

Example 3.6 Continued.

110

Example 3.6 Continued.

111

Variation 3 initiates a shift into the parallel major and another change in roles between Giuliani and Seidler. Giuliani begins this variation with one of his most oft-employed variation techniques: rising and falling parallel thirds and sixths. Though sparse in comparison to the guitar accompaniment in variation 2, the violin accompaniment in variation 3 more actively engages with the guitar, as Giuliani uses it to create some interesting moments by means of contrary motion between the two parts, or even fluctuations in texture. This simple style of accompaniment, however, is not shared between the parts that Giuliani wrote for both instruments, as the final variation in the set hints at a more virtuosic style of accompaniment in the guitar part.

The final variation, which makes a return to the original 6/8 time signature and A minor key of the theme, marks another opportunity for the violin to demonstrate its soloistic capabilities while the guitar plays accompaniment. In this variation, Giuliani continues the trend established in the previous variations of writing parts for the guitar that challenge more traditional approaches to accompanimental writing for the instrument. Rather than accompanying the violin solo with plucked, strummed, or arpeggiated chords, Giuliani accompanies Seidler in this final variation with a tremolo technique typically employed in solo guitar playing. The technique, which involves using the index, middle, and annular fingers of the right hand to play the same note three times in quick succession, takes some skill to master as it requires precision and coordination from the fingers in order to make the notes sound evenly. Similar to variation 2, Giuliani uses a more varied style of accompaniment, alternating tremolo sections with arpeggiated chords or chords with alternating bass notes.

Op. 24a culminates in a spirited polonaise, in which Giuliani and Seidler would have again exchanged solo and accompaniment roles. Rather than trading off at major formal divisions, as they did in the variations, the polonaise shows the two virtuosi exchanging parts after every phrase; this results in a more conversational interaction between the guitar and violin while it encourages the spirit of competition between them that was fostered throughout the variations. The unspoken competition that Giuliani establishes between himself and Seidler is reminiscent of late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century piano duels, in which rivals would extemporize on a theme. Though more improvisatory in nature than this performance of Giuliani’s op. 24a variations, these piano duels inspired competition between instrumental virtuosi whose improvisations were critiqued based on the quality of their technique and execution as well as the

112 demonstration of their virtuosity. For example, in his 1799 piano duel with Joseph Wölfl, Beethoven was praised for the brilliance of his playing and improvisatory skills; however, Wölfl was deemed to have the advantage as his playing was more precise and clear, thus effectively demonstrating his ability to play complex passages with ease.99

The variations in which Giuliani is soloist serve as the most overt displays of virtuosity in that they overshadow the violin, making Seidler’s part seem almost unnecessary as Giuliani demonstrates the guitar’s ability to accompany itself in a way that the violin cannot, an affordance that is relatively unique to instruments like the guitar and keyboard. In variations where Seidler is the soloist, Giuliani’s guitar accompaniment becomes increasingly difficult, interacting with the violin in more meaningful ways and at times even doubling its part momentarily. Finally, the polonaise presents the two instruments on equal terms, allowing Seidler and Giuliani to demonstrate their virtuosity as they trade off each phrase.

By pitting the guitar and violin against one another Giuliani demonstrates his own virtuosity in performance as well as in composition. Unlike his concerto premiere, in this performance with Seidler, the perception of Giuliani’s virtuosity was less dependent on the subversion of the audience’s expectations with regard to the guitar’s musical and sonorous possibilities and more related to the interaction between the violin and guitar that Giuliani established by means of his composition. By electing to have the guitar and violin exchange solos throughout the variations, Giuliani set up a comparison between the two instruments that not only attempted to illustrate that the guitar was capable of a type of soloistic display comparable to the violin, but suggested that in many ways the guitar could surpass the violin as a solo instrument because of its ability to accompany itself—a trait typically associated with the piano. This interplay between the two instruments, and the guitar’s increasingly dominant presence in the texture of the variations, further develops the idea of conflict and competition between two instruments in dialogue with one another.

Giuliani’s virtuosic endeavours represent a type of conquest, one that was grounded in his exploration of uncharted musical territory as well as an attempt to assert the guitar’s potential as a dominant musical force where it had previously been excluded. As a composer and performer

99 A.W. Thayer and Elliot Forbes, Thayer’s Life of Beethoven, Vol. 1 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1967), 205. Translated by Thayer and Forbes.

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Giuliani challenged the authority of other instruments, in this case the violin, in an attempt to explore new territory for the guitar. Rather than perpetuating the established hierarchy between the guitar and violin, in this performance Giuliani attempted to present the guitar as equal, or in some cases superior, to the violin’s soloistic abilities. Whether or not this attempt was successful from the audience’s perspective is difficult to say, though given the criticisms of the guitar and the short-lived popularity of solo guitar music in Vienna, Giuliani’s attempt to conquer the violin may not have had any long-lasting effect on the perception of the instrument at the time. However, I do believe that this performance does represent a transfer of power, or an attempt to wrest power from the violinist—Seidler, in this case—that was undertaken in aid of Giuliani’s own virtuoso career if not for the advancement of solo guitar repertoire in Vienna’s music culture.

3.3.3 April 16, 23, and 30, 1818 (Concert Series)

Location: Landständischer Saal, Herrengasse

Possible Programme: Piano Variations by Moscheles, Rondo Brillant by Mayseder, Potpourri for Piano and Guitar, Rondo Brillant for Piano with orchestral accompaniment by Moscheles, New Concerto for Guitar by Giuliani (op. 70?), arrangement of Beethoven’s Overture in C

In the spring of 1818 Giuliani and his virtuoso friends, Ignaz Moscheles and Josef Mayseder, joined together to offer a series of three concerts at the Landständischer Saal.100 The programmes for these concerts recalled the Congress of Vienna musical celebrations discussed in Chapter 2 with the virtuosi reuniting on stage to showcase their own skills and original compositions.101 The Landständischer Saal, though not a large venue (with dimensions of only 26mx12m), was built in the sixteenth century and could hold up to 100 performers and 200 audience members.102 With a reputation for excellent acoustics, the Landständischer Saal was rented out for concerts starting in 1813 and, until the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde opened its venue fifteen years later,

100 Heck, A Life for the Guitar, location 2657. 101 See Chapter 2, “Mauro Giuliani and the Congress of Vienna: Musical Representations of Power and Politics.” 102 Harer, “Musical Venues in Vienna,” 89.

114 it was one of Vienna’s most frequently used concert halls.103 Even though it was unheated, the Landständischer Saal was a very popular venue in the first half of the nineteenth century, playing host to the 1821-1822 season of the Concerts Spirituels as well as to performances by Franz Schubert in the late 1820s.104

The types of works that were programmed for Giuliani’s subscription series with Moscheles and Mayseder not only represent the typical fare for the early nineteenth-century virtuoso concert, but also allude to the significance of certain genres in Vienna’s music culture, despite their later perception as inferior. Like variation form, the potpourri was a permanent fixture in the commercial concerts of Giuliani’s day, and is well represented in Giuliani’s compositional output. In addition to contributions to more “serious” genres in the forms of his three guitar concerti and a single three-movement sonata, throughout his lifetime Giuliani produced countless variations and potpourris, which were not only popular in performance but also lucrative from a publishing perspective. In the nineteenth century, the potpourri, like the quodlibet, typically featured an amalgamation of numbers from popular stage works. The composers and musicians who arranged potpourris often attempted to take advantage of the listener’s familiarity with the melodies, using them to capture and maintain their listener’s attention.105 Such was the tactic employed by military bands when, while in performance, the band would play a potpourri of familiar operatic numbers to draw the audience’s attention to their musical display.106

Giuliani’s op. 93, Grand Pot-Pourri National, which he performed with Moscheles during the concert series of spring 1818, was jointly composed with Johann Nepomuk Hummel (it is Hummel’s op. 79) and published in January of 1818.107 Written in a proto-nationalist style, the potpourri weaves together various national themes, making use of what one Wiener Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung reviewer described as “…charming musical ideas, which they (Giuliani and Moscheles) rendered with notable tenderness and exactitude…”.108 These themes are “Vive Henri Quatre” in the Allegro ma non Troppo, “Rule Britannia” in the Allegro Maestoso, and the

103 Biba, “Concert Life in Beethoven’s Vienna,” 86. 104 Harer, “Musical Venues in Vienna,” 89. 105 Andrew Lamb. "Potpourri." Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Oxford University Press, accessed March 12, 2017, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/subscriber/article/grove/music/22189. 106 Ibid. 107 Heck, A Life for the Guitar, location 6541. 108 Wiener allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (April 1818), translated by Thomas Heck.

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Austrian national anthem, “Land der Berge, Land am Strome” in the Andante con moto.109 After its initial presentation, each national air is then transformed through a series of variations. Stylistically, the work is not wholly representative of either Giuliani’s or Hummel’s approaches to composition. Written for terz guitar, a smaller-bodied guitar with a shortened neck and strings tuned a minor third higher than standard tuning,110 this piece also features a somewhat unusual balance of bass and treble sounds from the two instruments. To make up for the terz guitar’s lack of basses, the piano part features many low-register passages, resulting in a work that is less pianistic compared to Hummel’s other works.111 Similarly, the combination of terz guitar and piano resulted in a piece that is less guitaristic compared to Giuliani’s other works for guitar and piano.112 Unlike Giuliani’s op. 24a variations, Grand Pot-pourri National is less overtly virtuosic; however, the style of composition and the pairing of guitar and piano suggest attempts to present other aspects of his virtuoso persona.

The use of the terz guitar rather than the standard instrument may, at first, seem unusual in the context of a piano-guitar duet, given that, for smaller-bodied guitars, the struggle against dynamic limitations is heightened. Despite this challenge, the terz guitar was often employed by Giuliani because its higher range meant that it produced a clear tone and was capable of greater sustain.113 In the context of Grand Pot-pourri National, these qualities would have allowed the guitar to maintain audibility above the piano’s low-register passages, making for a balance between the two instruments that ultimately positions both in distinct roles, allowing them to be heard individually. In performance, the clarity in sound offered by the treble range of the terz guitar, in conjunction with the Lanständischer Saal’s superior acoustics, were essential to the instrument’s ability to project over the piano.

109 Mauro Giuliani, Mauro Giuliani: The Complete Works, Vol.34, ed. Brian Jeffrey (London: Tecla Editions, 1984- 1988), preface. 110 Terz guitar parts could also be played on a standard classical guitar with a capotasto (capo) placed on the third fret to produce the same tuning. 111 Giuliani, The Complete Works Vol.34, preface. 112 Ibid. Grand Pot-Pourri National, op. 93 is one five works that Giuliani published for guitar and piano. Opp. 65, 68, 104, and WoO G&P1: Grand Duo Concertant (jointly composed with Ignaz Moscheles) were also published for guitar and piano during Giuliani’s time in Vienna. See Heck, A Life for the Guitar, location 5938, for a complete catalogue of Giuliani’s works. 113 Brian Jeffrey, “A Note on the Terz Guitar,” Tecla Editions, http://www.tecla.com/misc/terzguitar.htm (accessed March 25, 2017).

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From a visual perspective, the instrument’s size would have contributed to the element of spectacle and novelty in performance, as the smallness of the terz guitar in relation to the fortepiano –– as well as to Giuliani’s body –– would have made for an interesting juxtaposition on stage.114 Indeed, Giuliani frequently made use of the terz guitar’s novelty factor as well as its unique voice. The seemingly odd pairing of terz guitar and piano in Giuliani’s oeuvre is not exclusive to op. 93: his op. 104 variations on “Partant pour la Syrie” were also written for this instrumentation; and Anton Diabelli also arranged and published reductions of Giuliani’s three concerti for terz guitar and piano.115

Despite the potpourri’s less-than-idiomatic guitar and piano writing, the performance of this piece during the 1818 spring concert series demonstrates the growing commercialism associated with the virtuoso public concert. Giuliani’s performance of this piece with Moscheles played into several aspects of virtuoso culture by aiming specifically for the type of attention-grabbing entertainment that is associated with the potpourri’s use of popular, and recognizable songs. In the context of this performance, the way these famous melodies are presented and varied builds the listener’s anticipation, holding their attention as they await the presentation of each new, yet familiar, theme. Similar to the segmented nature of variation form, each new theme starts almost abruptly after the last ends, adding to the element of surprise and delight in recognition for the listener.

It is also important to note the way these concerts utilized the ideas of fame and star power through the combined efforts of Giuliani, Moscheles, and Mayseder, particularly when performing on stage together. By this time all three were renowned for their instrumental skill, each earning a place in the Vaterländische Blätter’s May 31, 1808, publication of a second installment of their “Survey of the present state of music in Vienna.”116 Moscheles, Mayseder, and Giuliani are all praised as Vienna’s preeminent masters on their respective instruments. A

114 Giuliani was not the first composer to pair the fortepiano with a small, plucked instrument as Beethoven produced four surviving works for fortepiano and mandolin in the 1790s (WoO 43, nos. 1–2 and WoO 44, nos. 1–2). These works, however, are without opus numbers and they were not published during Beethoven’s lifetime. See Douglas Johnson, Scott G. Burnham, William Drabkin, Joseph Kerman, and Alan Tyson, "Beethoven, Ludwig van," Grove Music Online, 2001; accessed 9 Feb. 2020. https://www-oxfordmusiconline- com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo-9781561592630- e-0000040026. 115 Heck, A Life for the Guitar, location 6120. 116 Ibid., location 2563.

117 followup on an original article published in 1808, this second installment, like the first, positions Giuliani as the city’s most prominent guitar virtuoso on the basis that he alone was responsible for bringing the guitar to its highest perfection.117 Giuliani and his contemporaries did not incite the kind of mania associated with Liszt’s performances in the 1840s, yet their status in Vienna’s public music culture as virtuosi of unmatched skill as well as contributors to the cultivation of their instruments suggests that they did, in fact, have a degree of star power on which the three virtuosi capitalized by appearing onstage together.

Despite the popularity of the national airs featured in op. 93 and the praise that Giuliani and Moscheles received for their performance skills, as a composition, the potpourri was not as well received, apparently because it was too long and drawn out.118 The performance, however, did create a sense of anticipation for what Giuliani would contribute to the following two concerts in the subscription series. As one writer for the fashion newspaper Wiener-Moden-Zeitung und Zeitschrift für Kunst, schöne Literatur und Theater noted in a review of the first concert of the series on April 16, “Herr Giuliani’s talent, which was given an obviously secondary role this time, will hopefully have a better chance for display in one of the coming concerts to be held on the 23rd and on the 30th.”119 The three virtuosi seemed to have capitalized on the anticipation created by their first concert, as tickets for the second and third concerts were more costly. This increase would have likely prevented certain members of their audience who were present at the first performance, namely those with a smaller budget for entertainment, from attending the second and third concerts.120

Giuliani’s involvement in the subscription series and the strategic raising of ticket prices for the second and third concerts in the series marks an important point of development in Vienna’s public concert structure that took place during Giuliani’s time in the city. At the time of his arrival, subscription concerts and the more commercially-driven approach to hosting public

117 Ibid., location 2583. 118 WamZ, (May 1818): col. 173-75. 119 Wiener-Moden-Zeitung und Zeitschrift für Kunst, schöne Literatur und Theater no.48 (21 April 1818), 387. Translated by Thomas Heck. 120 Wiener-Moden-Zeitung und Zeitschrift für Kunst, schöne Literatur und Theater no.56 (9 May 1818), 450-451. Translated by Thomas Heck. William Weber identifies the modest middle class and the bourgeois elite as the two primary groups who were attending popular music concerts in the first half of the nineteenth century. Spending 2- 3% of their yearly income on entertainment, only the bourgeois elite could afford upper bracket tickets for popular music concerts. See Weber, Music and the Middle Class, 28-29.

118 concerts were rare in Vienna. In 1804-1805, violinist Ignaz Schuppanzigh (1776-1830) presented a subscription concert series during which he and the members of his string quartet gave polished performances of quartets by Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Eberl, and Bernhard Romberg.121 This particular subscription concert series is significant in that it was unusual at the time to host a series of concerts rather than just a single event to benefit either the performer or a charity. Additionally, Schuppanzigh’s series marks the beginning of the gradual process by which private concerts became public events, as the series was initially held in a private home before being relocated to a multi-purpose public venue.122 This gradual movement of Schuppanzigh’s series to a public forum is indicative of what David Wyn Jones calls “a tentative process that suggests the cautious opening out to a paying public of what had hitherto been private occasions.”123

The movement of concerts from private to public spaces and the resulting focus on commercialism and ticket sales is also exemplified in the different types of performances Giuliani took part in while in Vienna. His early years were marked by several performances in salon-like atmospheres of which we know very little due to the private nature of such events. However, there are some limited diary-like accounts of Giuliani performing in private forums, such as Johann Friedrich Reichardt’s description of an 1809 event at Frau von Rittersburg’s home in a letter to an unnamed recipient.124 Though it is difficult to trace Giuliani’s transition from private to public concerts because of the lack of record-keeping –– and in fact, the likelihood that he continued to appear in private concerts throughout his time in Vienna (the dedicatees of his works were often patrons for whom he played in private settings) suggests that a “transition” as such may not have occurred –– the increase in Giuliani’s public performances suggests that he took part in the concert’s process of “tentative opening out to a paying public.” Many of Giuliani’s public performances, such as his first concert premiere and the 1812 concert with Seidler, fall into the category of single events that were put on for the benefit of the performer; however, towards the end of his time in Vienna, Giuliani participated in the more commercially-oriented subscription concert series. As outlined in Chapter 2, Giuliani’s involvement in the Congress of Vienna’s “ducat concerts” in 1815 seems to mark the beginning

121 Wyn Jones, Music in Vienna, 112. 122 Ibid. 123 Ibid. 124 For a full translation of this letter see Heck, A Life for the Guitar, location 376.

119 of his participation in a concert series as opposed to single events, culminating in the subscription series of April 1818.

Reviews of the second and third concerts in the April 1818 series are unanimous in their praise for these concerts as building on the success of the first. During both performances, Giuliani performed one movement from what Thomas Heck believes to be his op. 70 Guitar Concerto in F major for terz guitar, later published by Cappi and Diabelli in 1822.125 In the second concert Giuliani performed the first movement of the concerto, in response to which one writer for the Wiener allgemeine musikalische Zeitung remarked that Giuliani “must indeed be a great artist to carry off such an idea, i.e., having his first solo be heard with accompaniment of drums.”126 The inclusion of percussion in this concerto, and Giuliani’s presentation of this first movement in which his first solo is accompanied by the drums, marks the guitarist’s further investment in and awareness of the notion of spectacle. Building on the anticipation of a more virtuosic display compared to the first concert in the series, Giuliani presented his audience with a surprising performance. Giuliani’s first two guitar concerti were not published with percussion parts, as the first was scored for strings and winds and the second concerto written with string quartet accompaniment. Given the omission of percussion from his previous concerti for the guitar, the presence of the timpani in this performance of the first movement of Giuliani’s third concerto would have come as a surprise to his audience.

In performance, the timpani are heard immediately as the movement opens with a call-and- response exchange between the pizzicato strings and the timpani. This opening is mimicked during the first solo with the guitar taking the place of the pizzicato strings. The repetition of this memorable opening figure draws attention to the unlikely pairing of timpani and guitar as well as to Giuliani’s attempt to overcome the challenge the timpani poses for the guitar. The juxtaposition of guitar and percussion during his first solo highlights the very different dynamic capabilities of the two instruments in a gesture that uses the guitar to replace the strings, challenging it to compete with the timpani on its own. This challenge is especially evident when one considers the visual display onstage and the image of the small terz guitar competing with timpani and the orchestra. This unusual juxtaposition, however, is short-lived, for Giuliani uses the timpani sparingly throughout the rest of the solo. This initial exposed moment between the

125 Heck, A Life for the Guitar, location 2720. 126 Wiener allgemeine musikalische Zeitung (May 1818): col.173-75. Translated by Thomas Heck.

120 guitar and timpani serves to draw the audience’s attention to the presence of percussion in the concerto, an instrument that had been omitted from Giuliani’s other concerti, in a moment that is dramatic. Giuliani’s strategic positioning of his own virtuosic skill seems to have been understood by his audience, as the WamZ reviewer notes that only a great artist would attempt such an instrumental pairing. While the reviewer’s comments do imply that he was not entirely convinced of the viability of the guitar in an orchestral context with percussion, the fact that he makes note of it suggests that the combination of guitar and timpani was effective in grabbing the listener’s attention, a move that was undoubtedly intentional on Giuliani’s part.

The concert series offered by Giuliani, Moscheles, and Mayseder in the spring of 1818 marks the pinnacle of Giuliani’s virtuoso performances in Vienna, less than a year before he would depart the city forever. His performance in these concerts as well as the pieces he contributed to each programme demonstrate a keen awareness of the factors that contributed to Vienna’s virtuoso phenomenon, factors that he harnessed to great effect. At the centre of Giuliani’s performance style in these concerts were the ideas of spectacle, subversion of expectations, and anticipation of future moments in the series. Given how established his virtuoso status was by 1818, the success of his contribution to this concert series was dependent on finding different ways to surprise and entertain the audience.

3.4 The Site of Giuliani’s Virtuosity and the Changing Trends of Vienna’s Popular Concert Culture

In another review of Giuliani’s April 23, 1818, performance with Moscheles and Mayseder, a writer for the Wiener-Moden-Zeitung compliments Giuliani’s playing, but also mentions the uniqueness of his style, noting that “His excellent playing and the unusual skill with which he handles the guitar roused the admiration of all present.”127 Just as with the premiere of his first concerto eight years earlier, the comments of the reviewers who attended the 1818 concert series suggest that even towards the end of his stay in Vienna, Giuliani’s virtuoso status was still bound to notions regarding the guitar’s deficiencies and his unique ability to overcome them. Despite the changing concert culture around him, Giuliani’s skill was still perceived in relation to the instrument he played which, I believe, suggests that public opinion surrounding the guitar had not changed much despite Giuliani’s rise to prominence in Vienna’s public concert scene.

127 Wiener-Moden-Zeitung no.56 (9 May 1818): 450-451. Translated by Thomas Heck.

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Giuliani seems to have been undeterred by the seemingly unchanged public opinion of the guitar’s potential as a solo instrument as he continued to concertize in Vienna, performing in a way that demonstrated a deep engagement with and understanding of the city’s virtuoso phenomenon. Starting with his early performances in the private homes of the wealthy patrons to whom he dedicated his works, Giuliani’s performance career mirrors the expansion of the concert from private to public forums.

Giuliani’s ability to follow the dominant trends of Vienna’s virtuoso phenomenon helped solidify his position as one of the city’s foremost guitar virtuosi. However, the conditions of his virtuosity seem to have differed from those of his contemporaries who performed on other instruments. Returning to James Deaville’s question regarding the site of virtuosity, that for Giuliani seems to have been linked to the guitar as an exceptional instrument and Giuliani’s unique ability to overcome the preconceived notions that were attached to it. Giuliani’s ability to play technically demanding pieces on the guitar certainly helped establish his status as a virtuoso among his pianistic counterparts, but his stunning technical ability was made even more surprising to his audiences by the fact that he performed on the guitar, an instrument that previously had no virtuoso or solo tradition in the German-speaking lands. Thus, Giuliani’s virtuosity was understood not only by his ability to play difficult music with speed and precision, but by an unusual ability to overcome the challenges presented by an inherently flawed instrument. In this respect, Giuliani’s cultivation of a virtuoso persona seems to have played into his audience’s expectations of the instrument even more as his career progressed. This awareness of the instrument’s affordances and perceived restrictions made for unexpected performance choices that enhanced the element of surprise in his playing and subsequently, the entertainment value of his concerts. Giuliani’s understanding of how to present himself and his works to Vienna’s market for virtuoso performances was not unlike his involvement with the growing folk movement, which, as Chapter 4 will explore, was defined by the guitarist’s cognizance of political and musical trends related to this movement.

Chapter 4 Reconciling the Natural and Unnatural: Giuliani’s Folk-Inspired Works 4.1 Remembering the Song of the Days of Old “Remembering the Song of the Days of Old” from James Macpherson’s Temora (1763)

Son of Alpin [Albion], strike the string. Is there aught of joy in the harp? Pour it, then, on the soul of Ossian: It is folded in mist.

I hear thee, O Bard, in my night, But cease the lightly-trembling found. The joy of grief belongs to Ossian, Amidst his dark brown years…1

“Remembering the Song of the Days of Old” is the last song that appears in James Macpherson’s 1763 collection of Scottish epics, Temora. Though Macpherson authored the epic, he attributed it to the fictional third-century Gaelic bard, Ossian, while he posed as the translator. Despite the dubious origins of Macpherson’s collection, the stories of Temora were met with adoration for their evocation of images of the Scottish Highlands and their representation of Scottish history.

The influence of these poems, however, extended beyond the Highlands as musicians, poets, theologians, and philosophers around Europe became interested in the collection and attempted preservation of folksongs and tales as embodiments of true national culture. Johann Gottfried Herder (1744-1803) included “Remembering the Song of the Days of Old,” along with a German translation of the poem, in the second volume of his collection of Volkslieder (1779). Herder valued the folksongs and poetry of different cultures and theorized extensively on the significance and role of folk sources in society. His late eighteenth-century collections and writings on folk music marked the beginning of a fascination and active engagement with folk music in the German speaking lands. Herder’s approach to collecting––namely, borrowing from a source, translating it if necessary, and occasionally editing it––set a precedent for collectors and musicians to do the same. Remembering the song of the days of old became a commonplace

1 Quoted in Johann Gottfried Herder and Philip Bohlman, Song Loves the Masses: Herder on Music and Nationalism (Oakland: University of California Press, 2016), 92.

122 123 activity for musicians in the early nineteenth century, as folksongs became an integral part of popular as well as more serious musical entertainments through their commodification and eventual association with a mythic past. Countless composers integrated folk sources into their works for both artistic and commercial reasons, and Giuliani was no exception.

Giuliani was not a folk song collector, but like Herder, he acted as a translator of sorts, adapting songs from a variety of origins for the guitar. His astute ability to tap into the dominant musical markets in Vienna extended far beyond his participation in virtuoso concerts. Though his virtuoso persona represented perhaps his most overt attempt to integrate himself and the guitar into the prominent musical currents of his milieu, his musical activities were defined by an interest in multiple competing and often contradictory musical avenues. As far as the guitarist’s compositional output is concerned, the virtuosic showpieces that Giuliani frequently presented in performance were balanced with folk-inspired works that, while not often performed by the virtuoso in public, represent a significant portion of his oeuvre and a lucrative publishing endeavor. The prominence of these works in Giuliani’s compositional output highlights significant points of tension in his career, as his simultaneous engagements with virtuosity and with the burgeoning folk movement in the early nineteenth century mark an attempt to harness the popularity of two disparate and competing trends. While virtuosity focused on the spectacular and unnatural or artificial, drawing from folk music sources called for privileging ostensible naturalness and simplicity. Though it was not uncommon at the time to use folk themes as the basis for variation sets, some of which provided the opportunity for virtuosic display, the way Giuliani engaged with his folk sources had significant implications for his reception as an artist as well for the way his style of guitar playing was perceived. Underlying his choice of the folk melodies upon which to base his compositions was an understanding of how to harness the political power associated with some of these melodies and dances.

The tension created between Giuliani’s virtuoso persona and his substantial catalog of folk- inspired works represents just one point of interest in the study of the intricacies and contradictions of his career. An examination of his use of folk sources further illuminates Giuliani’s attempts to integrate the guitar into the music culture of Vienna, while foregrounding the issues that jeopardized the longevity of the solo classical guitar tradition he was inaugurating. Borrowing from folk music sources in order to produce a synthesis of folk and art music traditions required a very specific approach to composition. The results of this approach greatly

124 affected the way the new compositions were received, because they were regarded as an indication of a composer’s genius. In Giuliani’s case, borrowing from folk sources resulted in a compartmentalization of his chosen styles, rather than what would be regarded by critics and audiences as an artistic synthesis. While this may have negatively affected the longevity of his contribution to the solo guitar tradition, Giuliani’s choices of folk materials demonstrate his awareness of the local market for folk-inspired compositions, and the monetary and political value associated with the folk traditions he chose to draw upon.

By engaging with folk sources, and integrating them into his own compositions, Giuliani was also drawing on the guitar’s established connections with folk music, and it is not difficult to see how one realm of his endeavour––to “elevate” the guitar from its perceived amateur- accompanimental role to virtuoso status––could be understood to clash with the other––to tap into folk associations. Indeed, he does appear to have knowingly played both sides for the sake of the market. While Giuliani focused his efforts on creating solo pieces for the guitar, in the early nineteenth century, the instrument already had a longstanding association with folk music, particularly as an accompanying instrument for folk songs. The guitar was more portable and affordable than the fortepiano, and the seeming ease with which singers could accompany themselves with strummed or arpeggiated chords made it an attractive choice for those who wished to sing folk songs at home, or even in informal public performances. Despite the increased visibility of the guitar as a soloist instrument in the early to mid nineteenth century, guitars were still most readily associated with song, especially when it came to amateur music making. A significant aspect of playing during the “Golden Age of the Guitar” in Vienna, Paris, and London, was the use of guitar to accompany the voice.2

Though the guitar that Giuliani played was relatively new to Vienna, so were the increasingly popular Tyrolean and Styrian folk singers who used the guitar, among other string instruments like zithers and harps, to accompany their folk songs.3 During the Napoleonic era in Vienna,

2 France had a particularly prevalent guitar culture centred on amateur song accompaniment. Songs with guitar accompaniment were regularly published in periodicals, and guitarists who made Paris their adoptive home, such as Ferdinando Carulli, prioritized accompaniment in their guitar methods. See Jelma Van Amersfoort, “‘The Notes Were Not Sweet till You Sung Them’: French Vocal Music with Guitar Accompaniment,” Early Music 41, no. 4 (2013): 605–619, https://doi.org/10.1093/em/cat094. 3 Gertraud Schaller-Pressler, “Volksmusik und Volkslied in Wien,” in Wien Musikgeschichte: Volksmusik und Wienerlied, ed. Elisabeth Theresia Fritz and Helmut Kretschmer (Wien: Lit, 2006), 55.

125 there was a growing interest in the folk cultures of Alpine peoples, and the Tyrolese were increasingly recognized in the city and abroad because of the rebellion they incited in 1809 while under French occupation.4 Travelling Tyrolean singers were very popular in Vienna at the beginning of the nineteenth century, and it was not uncommon to see a guitar hanging on the wall at an inn, in case an impromptu musical moment were to arise.5 By 1825, Tyrolean folk concerts were a marketable and lucrative performance venture, with the folk singers performing around Europe for audiences who were fascinated by their colourful costumes and seemingly primitive way of life.6 The slightly more polished presentation of the folksongs for the general population called for the use of the Kontragitarre, a distinctly Viennese guitar with up to nine additional bass strings to help fill out the harmony in Tyrolean folksong concerts. Like Stauffer’s Doppelgitarre upon which it was based, the Kontragitarre had two necks, though the second neck with the bass strings was not fretted. Refining folksongs using the richer harmonies afforded by the Kontragitarre made the songs more palatable for European listeners. This practice is indicative of the market demands for folk music, and of the established connection between the guitar and folk singing. Giuliani’s folk-inspired works drew on this established connection, but focused more on solo playing, translating what was primarily a vocal genre–– with the exception of folk dances––to his distinct style of guitar playing.

4.2 Johann Gottfried Herder and the Reconciliation of Art and Nature

Unlike the folksong collectors and composers of the mid nineteenth century, the composers of the early nineteenth century were not concerned with using folk music to embody nationalist sentiments. Instead, their folksong ideals were based on notions of authenticity and tradition while stressing cosmopolitanism and the establishment of a cultural heritage with universal significance.7 At the centre of the early folk movement were the writings of Johann Gottfried

4 Ibid., 45. In 1809, guerilla-style fighting broke out in Tyrol. Tyrol had recently been annexed to Bavaria, France’s ally, and the Tyrolese resisted what they viewed as a threat to their liberties. Bavaria’s newly-instated policies on taxes and conscription are cited as the main issues that inspired the resistance. See Martin Rink, “The German Wars of Liberation 1807-1815: The Restrained Insurgency,” Small Wars and Insurgencies 25, no. 4 (2014): 828–42, https://doi.org/10.1080/09592318.2013.832933, 834-835. 5 Schaller-Pressler, “Volksmusik und Volkslied in Wien”, 55. 6 Ibid., 45. 7 Matthew Riley and Anthony D. Smith, Nation and Classical Music From Handel to Copland (Woodbridge, Suffolk: The Boydell Press, 2016), 48.

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Herder. More than other prominent folk theorists of the late Enlightenment, such as Jakob Grimm, Herder frequently returned to the significance of folksong collection and preservation in his publications. Though Herder’s work is rooted in late-eighteenth-century philosophical thought in Germany, his writings were disseminated in central and eastern Europe by the mid nineteenth century,8 and his theories on folk music are regarded as part of the early history of

Austrian folk music research.9 While it is unlikely that Giuliani or his peers were directly familiar with Herder’s folk theories, Herder’s reconciliation of art and folk, as well as his ‘international’ approach to folk song collecting, resonate readily with the attitudes toward folk music in Giuliani’s time and milieu. Throughout the course of his writings, Herder’s changing attitudes towards the relationship between folk and art music came to influence composers’ artistic aims when integrating folk music into their compositions, and his writings can provide context for the Enlightenment apparatuses that were still in play when Giuliani was making use of folk music sources for his compositions in the early nineteenth century.

Herder’s reconciliation of art and nature—two formerly opposing ideas—in the preface to his 1779 Volkslieder not only inspired the reconciliation and synthesis of the art and folk music traditions, but also provided justification for this synthesis as it pertained to the role of the composer. As Matthew Gelbart argues in The Invention of ‘Folk Music’ and ‘Art Music’: Emerging Categories from Ossian to Wagner, Herder’s redefinition of art had implications for composers and other artists: To be an artistic genius now meant to grow organically out of the national and universal genius, to synthesize achievement (gained through the learning that had been associated with the old rational art-as-science approach) with an

8 Though his writings were slower to reach the Austrian Empire because of censorship, Herder’s works did see wide dissemination in central and eastern Europe. His work was particularly popular with Slavonic peoples, as his chapter on Slavs in Ideas (1791), presented the Slavs a nation with a great, shared history stretching back to antiquity. H. Barry Nisbet believes that the dissemination of Ideas throughout the Empire encouraged readers to also seek out Herder’s 1773 essay on Ossian. See H. Barry Nisbet, “Herder’s Conception of Nationhood and Its Influence in Eastern Europe,” in The German Lands and Eastern Europe, ed. Roger Bartlett and Karen Schönwälder (New York: Macmillan, 1998), 128-130. 9 Ulrich Morgenstern provides a brief outline of the history of folk music research in Germany and Austria. While he makes very little distinction between the nineteenth-century German and Austrian branches of scholarship, he does identify Emil Karl Blümml (1881-1925) as one of the pioneers in academic Austrian folk music research. In the introduction to his Die Volksliedbewegung in Deutschösterreich (1910), which he co-authored with Franz Kohl and Josef Reiter, Blümml outlines four time periods of research in Austrian-German folk music, the first—1777-1806: The Time of Internationalism—aligns with Herder’s time period and folk theories. See Ulrich Morgenstern, “Folk Music Research in Austria and Germany. Notes on Terminology , Interdisciplinarity and the Early History of Volksmusikforschung and Vergleichende Musikwissenschaft,” Musicologica Austriaca (2015). www.musau.org/parts/neue-article-page/view/17, section 7.

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ineffable quality of inspiration drawn from a folk wellspring that was universally human, but channeled through the individual.10

As Gelbart explains, Herder’s reconciliation of art and nature not only affected art music and folk music as traditions, but it also affected the way artistic genius was perceived. This new conception of artistic genius, of the capacity for a creative act that involved the reconciliation of the collective and individual in addition to the natural and the learned, afforded the composers who could successfully synthesize art and folk music a new type of prestige and artistic status. Within the burgeoning folk movement at the beginning of the nineteenth century, borrowing from folk sources became both a trendy mode of composition as well as litmus test for a composer’s creativity and, consequently, their level of genius.11 A composer’s treatment of borrowed folk material, as well as how well the material was integrated into their compositional language, played a significant role in the reception of their folk-influenced works. It is the notion of integration that, I believe, may have complicated Giuliani’s attempts to synthesize the folk impulse with the guitar tradition he was in the process of developing. Even for Beethoven, a composer with more stature in Vienna, composing folk-inspired works was challenging in many ways as it involved a delicate balance of two musical traditions.

The songs, stories, and poetry that interested Herder were gathered from “the people,” namely rural peasants who were unspoiled by civilized society and who best represented the wild and natural characteristics that Herder viewed as the epitome of the folk.12 For Herder, folksongs were particularly significant because they could be universal as well as individual. Though they could represent all human culture in their universality, folksongs also had the power to give voice to specific cultures, establishing them as unique and distinct.13 For Herder, national culture, which was embodied by the naturalness of native folk music and poetry, was the most common form of cultural distinction, and he used the terms “national” and “natural” interchangeably.14

10 Matthew Gelbart, The Invention of “Folk Music” and “Art Music”: Emerging Categories from Ossian to Wagner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 200. 11 Ibid., 216. 12 Philip V. Bohlman, The Study of Folk Music in the Modern World (Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1988), 6-7. 13 Riley and Smith, Nation and Classical Music, 36. 14 Jayne Winter, “International Traditions: Ballad Translations by Johann Gottfried Herder and Matthew Lewis,” German Life and Letters 67, no. 1 (2014): 23.

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As a folksong collector, Herder also acted as curator of the songs and stories he wished to publish, as many of them were fragmented or only partially complete. Despite their incompleteness, these fragments held potential for the philosopher, who valued their adaptability and open-ended nature.15 In his collections, Herder joined these fragments together to form a coherent narrative, giving each fragment meaning as it came to relate to the whole while also connecting past and present.16 Arguably, for composers who sought to incorporate folk music into their compositions, the notion of hybridity is relevant to the process by which elements of different musical traditions were synthesized. For Giuliani, who not only combined folk music with traditional harmony and rhythms, but was also in the process of integrating the guitar into music cultures to which it did not previously belong, the notion of hybridity is particularly significant as it can be applied to many of the musical activities in which he took part.

Herder’s 1774 Alte Volkslieder marks the beginning of the folk theorist’s exploration of the power and nature of folksongs. In the four-volume anthology, Herder collected songs from various countries including England, Scotland, Spain, and Italy as well as Germany, in hopes that German writers would be inspired to create folksongs for their time.17 Most importantly, the Alte Volkslieder enabled Herder to demonstrate the importance of collecting the folksongs of all peoples, and to encourage others to do the same, as he believed that such a collection helped to foster a better understanding of how the folk music of different cultures could be simultaneously distinct and universal, but most importantly human.18

The trajectory of Herder’s writings and the degree to which his theories of the folk changed towards the end of the eighteenth century are especially significant in a discussion of the early nineteenth-century folk movement, because his later writings had a strong influence on how the relationship between the art music and folk music traditions was perceived. Perhaps the most significant juncture in Herder’s late writings occurs with his redefinition of art in the preface to

15 Bohlman, The Study of Folk Music, 11. 16 Ibid. There is a precedent, in oral folk traditions, for combining fragments or putting together parts from different stories. While performing long stories from memory, epic singers possessed the poetic license to take apart and combine different poetic units to suit their performances. See Philip V. Bohlman, The Music of European Nationalism: Cultural Identity and Modern History, ABC-CLIO World Music Series (Santa Barbara, CA: ABC- CLIO, 2004) 38. 17 Winter, “International Traditions,” 22. 18 Riley and Smith, Nation and Classical Music, 48.

129 the second volume of the Volkslieder of 1779.19 Previously, Herder had equated art with artifice, positioning it in opposition to nature and thus the folk. However, in his 1779 Volkslieder, Herder proposed a different conception of art, one in which art was reconciled with nature and opposed instead to science. By redefining art, Herder positioned art and nature as mutually co-dependent, a classification that extended to products of the two categories: art music and folk music.20 Through Herder’s new model of co-dependence, the folk could now be used as source material for art, and while it was dependent on the creative powers of the artistic genius to become an artistic product, art relied on the universality of the folk to attain true greatness.21

4.3 The Aestheticization of the Folk: Tradition and Authenticity

It was not until the mid-nineteenth century that folk music was linked to the identities of clearly defined nation states; however, given the abstract nature of the idea of nation at the beginning of the nineteenth century, music that tapped into the power of folk sources at this time was regarded as more of an utterance made in a universal musical language than a clear representation of nation.22 While the lack of a fully formed idea of nation sets the folk music culture from this time period apart from that of the mid nineteenth century, composers and folksong collectors during Giuliani’s time were nevertheless concerned with issues of tradition and authenticity which continued to be at the forefront of folk music studies throughout the century. By examining the way these terms were used, and considering why they were significant and to whom, I hope to illuminate what was at stake when composers integrated folk sources into their compositions at a time when the idea of nation was not at the forefront of the minds of composers and collectors.

The theories surrounding issues of tradition and authenticity in folk studies of the early nineteenth century are significant because they point to the values and aspirations of the composers who made use of folk sources in their works. In the absence of a clearly defined nation, the concepts of tradition and authenticity were linked not only to each other, but to the

19 Johann Gottfried Herder, Volkslieder vol. 2 (Leipzig: 1779), preface. 20 Gelbart, The Invention of “Folk Music” and “Art Music”: Emerging Categories from Ossian to Wagner, 198-200. 21Ibid., 200. 22 Riley and Smith, Nation and Classical Music, 219.

130 idea of a shared cultural history that, like Herder’s theories, connected the past with the present.23 Within contemporary scholarship there are slight variations between definitions of tradition and authenticity. In his Study of Folk Music, Philip Bohlman defines authenticity as the consistent representation of the origins of a piece, style, or genre;24 however, for Matthew Gelbart, consistency is not part of the related concepts of tradition and authenticity. Gelbart also challenges Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger’s definition of tradition as invariance,25 as he argues for a definition of tradition that allows for––and, much like Herder’s folksong theories and collecting endeavours, depends on––variance. Prior to the early nineteenth century, the idea of tradition was linked to oral transmission, a method of relaying information that was viewed as untrustworthy and possibly corrupt due to the perception that the lower population was incapable of “properly” transmitting songs and stories.26 However, this attitude towards the idea of tradition changed at the beginning of the nineteenth century as, much like the relationship between art and the folk, tradition was redefined. By the early nineteenth century, tradition was thought of as a long-term organic process which was capable of both reifying a shared cultural history and linking the past to the present.27 This long-term process produced variants in folk texts and oral traditions, all of which were viewed as authentic national creations because these variants were, in fact, abstract manifestations of the same work.28 The acceptance of variants would have great significance for composers like Giuliani and his contemporaries who, for artistic or editorial reasons, often altered their original folk materials to suit their compositions. Eventually, the notion of tradition was synonymous with the idea of shared origins and it was used to concretize and elevate abstracted folk works.29 The authentic variants produced by tradition were able to unite, creating a meaningful link between past and present; however, these variances were still bounded by the fixity of tradition and thus stable.30

The concept of authenticity worked in tandem with the reactionary elements of tradition to change the material it was meant to protect and salvage, resulting in what Gelbart describes as

23 Gelbart, The Invention of “Folk Music” and ‘Art Music,’ 162–163. 24 Bohlman, The Study of Folk Music, 10. 25 Eric Hobsbawn and Terence Ranger, The Invention of Tradition, ed. Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger, Canto (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 2. 26 Gelbart, The Invention of “Folk Music” and “Art Music,” 158–159. 27 Ibid., 162–163. 28 Ibid. 29 Ibid., 155. 30 Ibid., 163, 169.

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“authenticity as idiom.”31 Authenticity as idiom had a profound impact on the way folk music was used and presented. To remain faithful to a folk work, publishers and composers often selected and edited tunes and their variants so they sounded simple and primitive.32 This was often achieved by selecting the variants that sounded pentatonic, unornamented, and rhythmically regular. This freedom of selection when it came to variants allowed for greater freedom when determining the authenticity of a source. Due to the difficulty associated with locating the original authority for folk sources—a difficulty that was posed by the collective nature of folk music—these sources were surrounded by a sense of mystery and anonymity that suited the folk ethos.33 In the absence of a clearly formed idea of nation, the concept of authenticity was tied to proto-nationalist ideas. As Matthew Riley and Anthony D. Smith outline in Classical Music and Nation, the cult of authenticity was driven by the ideas that people expressed difference through culture and music;34 the expression of this type of difference, however, was not directly related to ethnographic authenticity.35

The mediators who were interested in bringing folk music to an outside audience hewed to one of two groups: non-musicians/amateurs, and professional musicians and composers.36 The members of these groups had different priorities when working with folk sources, with the non- musicians and amateurs focussing on folksong collecting and preservation. These collectors valued purity and authenticity of the folk tradition and had little concern for aesthetic issues.37 Conversely, professional musicians and composers, for whom tradition and nature were sources of genius, conceived of folk music in more aesthetic terms.38 For professional musicians and composers like Giuliani, folk music was a means of providing ‘exotic’ entertainment for their audiences, fulfilling commissions, creating personal mementos,39 or reconnecting with a lost rural past.40 Such motives provided the foundation for the developments in folk-culture investments that would predominate in the mid to late nineteenth century. As folk music became

31 Ibid., 179. 32 Ibid. 33 Ibid., 188. 34 Riley and Smith, Nation and Classical Music, 38. 35 Ibid., 55. 36 Gelbart, The Invention of “Folk Music” and “Art Music,” 196. 37 Ibid. 38 Ibid. 39 Vera Lampert, “Nationalism, Exoticism, or Concessions to the Audience? Motivations behind Bartók’s Folksong Settings,” Studia Musicologica Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 47, no. 3–4 (2006): 342. 40 Riley and Smith, Nation and Classical Music, 38.

132 increasingly tied to clear ideas of nation, composers became motivated to write folk-inspired works because of their ability to represent authentic ethnicity, critique modern European society, and provide pedagogical instruction in national matters.41

Integrating folk sources into art music and, in some cases, into the canon, required the sensitive and thoughtful treatment of both traditions by the composer. The integration of folk music into art music practices and the interaction between the two types of music resulted in a dialectic between them.42 This dialectic, as Philip Bohlman argues, was significant because it altered the boundaries of the canon, accounting for “…both the stability necessary if a folk music tradition is to have meaning for a community and the changeability required to withstand, encourage, or transform influences outside the community.”43 Though Bohlman primarily addresses the effect of this dialectic on the boundaries and stability of the canon and the folk music tradition, the ideas of integration, transformation, and changeability are applicable to smaller scale relationships created by the interaction between folk and art music as well as relationships between the composer and audience.

4.4 Folk Music Meets Art Music: Folksong Setting in the Early Nineteenth Century

Folk music offered composers a new way to interact with their audiences by creating new terms upon which their work could be received. As Matthew Riley and Anthony D. Smith argue in Nation and Classical Music, “Ethnic music offered a source of authenticity for the newly valorized creative artist and a way to reintegrate the individual within a reformed society.”44 This notion of the integration of the individual artist (or composer) recalls Herder’s argument concerning the reconciliation of artistic genius and folk genius and the resultant creation of the individual folk amidst collective roots. The idea of merging of these two notions of genius was especially appealing to the Romantics because it allowed for the reconciliation of art and nature on multiple levels: within the piece itself as well as between the individual composer and the collective.45 The individual genius was viewed as the driving force creating masterpieces with

41 Ibid. 42 Bohlman, The Study of Folk Music, 198. 43 Ibid. 44 Riley and Smith, Nation and Classical Music, 45. 45 Ibid., 50.

133 folk materials: “Since art music established itself as a strong origins-based category,” Gelbart argues, “even folkish melody… needed to be passed through the filter of individual genius— composed originality ‘as the folk’—if it was to be part of a true masterpiece.”46 This understanding of the composer’s role in reconciling folk and art music for the purpose of creating a masterpiece had many implications for composers working with folk sources in the early nineteenth century. A composer’s ability to synthesize these disparate musical traditions while foregrounding his individual creativity had a significant effect on the perception of his genius as well as the success of his work. For a composer like Giuliani, who built about a quarter of his compositions for guitar on folk sources, issues of creative genius and the synthesis of disparate musical traditions, I believe, had a profound impact on the reception of his music. These issues, however, were even problematic for high-status composers like Beethoven, for whom folk-inspired works made up just a fraction of his compositional output.

Beethoven’s folksong settings from the early nineteenth century best exemplify the dynamic and complex relationships that were forged between folk music and art music as well as composer and public as a result of the folk movement. While there is less scholarly interest in Beethoven’s folksong settings and variation sets relative to the other genres the composer cultivated,47 Beethoven’s song settings account for relatively quiet periods in his compositional output,48 and they embody many of the issues that early nineteenth-century composers had to contend with when engaging with folk music. The folksong settings that Beethoven produced for George Thomson between 1809 and 1820 are representative of some of the first post-Enlightenment approaches to folk music integration. While Haydn also produced a number of folksong settings and pieces drawing on folk themes, these works are less focused on the dialectic between art and folk music and are characterized as more representative of Haydn’s attempt to take on a new compositional language as a means of demonstrating his exceptional skill and adaptability.49

46 Gelbart, The Invention of “Folk Music” and “Art Music,” 224. 47 The general lack of scholarly interest in Beethoven’s folksong settings can be attributed to their association with more popular styles written for money to fund “serious” works, smaller forms, and what Barry Cooper calls an “uneasy combination” of traditional and classical styles. See Barry Cooper, Beethoven’s Folksong Settings: Chronology, Sources, Style (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), 196-197. 48 Ibid., 37. 49 For instance, Csilla Pethő views Haydn’s all’ongarese movements and pieces with Hungarian themes as stylistic games which the composer used to prove that he could use a foreign musical language as well as his own. Conversely, Beethoven’s Hungarian-inspired works are regarded as expansions on and experiments with the emotional power and expressive range of Hungarian intonation. See Csilla Pethő, “‘Style Hongrois’. Hungarian

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Conversely, Beethoven’s settings attempt to reconcile the harmonic classical tradition with the monodic folk, an endeavor that resulted in the transformation of his folk sources as well as the transformation of art music harmony.50 He accomplished this by approaching the melodies given to him by Thomson with an experimental mindset, finding creative ways to work with their modal inflections, resulting in unusual but creative harmonies.51

Beethoven’s folksong settings were among numerous collections that were published at the beginning of the nineteenth century, joining the works of composers such as Haydn, Pleyel, and Kozeluch. Despite the popularity of folksong arrangements in general, Beethoven’s contributions to the genre nevertheless stand out among those of his contemporaries for what Barry Cooper calls their active, nervous energy.52 More specifically, Beethoven’s settings feature a greater sense of continuity between songs within a set and are unusually developmental in nature.53 Rather than concerning himself with the perceived limitations of the smaller-scale folksong or the issues associated with presenting a melodic fragment before the vocal melody, Beethoven went to great lengths to incorporate developmental elements in his instrumental preludes and postludes. Though he had several means of developing his chosen fragments, one of the methods he used most commonly involved borrowing a small, but recognizable, fragment from the vocal melody and placing it in the song’s instrumental introduction.54 He would then develop the fragment until the end of the introduction, the final development of the fragment coinciding with the beginning of the vocal melody.55 Barry Cooper identifies this process as integral to Beethoven’s folksong settings as a whole, stating that the composer applied the same developmental principles to his instrumental postludes as well.56

Beethoven’s novel approach to his folksong settings has encouraged scholars to consider the significance of these works not only in the composer’s oeuvre, but their importance as

Elements in the Works of Haydn, Beethoven, Weber and Schubert,” Studia Musicologica Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 41, no. Fasc. 1/3 (2000): 223, 281. 50 Nicole Biamonte, “Modality in Beethoven’s Folk-Song Settings,” Beethoven Forum 13, no. 1 (2006): 33. 51 Ibid. 52 Cooper, Beethoven’s Folksong Settings, 125. 53 Ibid., 128. 54 Ibid., 172. 55 Barry Cooper focuses on Lochnagar, the nineteenth song of the first set of arrangements Beethoven produced for Thomson, as a prime example of Beethoven’s developmental approach to the instrumental preludes of his arrangements. See Cooper, Beethoven’s Folksong Settings, 172. 56 Ibid., 175.

135 proponents of the early nineteenth-century folk movement. Beethoven’s unique approach to folk music has positioned him in scholarship as one of the first composers to put into practice Herder’s belief that folk and art were not opposites, as he effectively synthesized the naïve folk collective with the creativity of his perceived individual “genius”.57 By doing so, Beethoven is thought to have transcended the border between the individual and the collective and thus the border between civilization and nation, demonstrating that he was capable of going against the established rules of these traditions in order to follow his own creative impetus.58

Though existing scholarship portrays Beethoven’s works as the pinnacle of the synthesis of folk and art music at the beginning of the nineteenth century, the mixed reception of his folk-derived works speaks to the complexity of the value system that was applied to such pieces at the time. Ultimately, the effect of incorporating folk music on the reception of the work as well as the perception of the composer’s genius was linked to the way the folk source material was presented. Pieces that were based on a model of quoting folk melodies, such as folksong settings and variation sets, were viewed less favourably compared to works that, according to Gelbart, internalized their folk sources by integrating them to such a degree that they were untraceable.59 For composers, this process of integration meant using folk sources as a point of departure for creative expression, maintaining the folk characteristics of the source while foregrounding original material.60

Works that quoted folk melodies were thought to be problematic, however, because they compromised the composer’s authorial voice and his capacity for individual creation. Initially, Beethoven’s first batch of folksong settings for Thomson was met with favourable reviews, but as it became more widely known that the melodies were not of Beethoven’s creation, the settings were less well received, or in some cases, ignored by reviewers in German-speaking lands.61 Melodies were highly prized in the late eighteenth century, a trend that continued in the early nineteenth century, albeit to a lesser extent, for the quality of a melody remained a means by which to assess a composer’s originality. Many of the criticisms levelled at Beethoven’s settings for Thomson took aim at the fact that Beethoven did not compose the melodies himself, a

57 Gelbart, The Invention of “Folk Music” and “Art Music,” 203. 58 Ibid. 59 Ibid., 211. 60 Ibid., 223. 61 Ibid., 212.

136 criticism which had many negative implications. However, there were different issues at stake when the settings were assessed by other groups who were invested in the folk movement. Folk purists, or the groups previously identified as the non-musician collectors, thought that Beethoven’s settings breached the authenticity of the folk tradition because of the experimental way in which he treated the folk melodies given to him by Thomson, as well as by inclusion of instrumental introductions and postludes.62 From the alternate perspective of those who were invested in the art music tradition, the folksong settings represented a different type of authenticity breach, that of Beethoven’s originality.63 German-speaking critics from the art music camp thought that Beethoven’s settings demonstrated the composer’s over-dependence on the pre-existing melodies, an aspect of the songs that was thought to seriously jeopardize Beethoven’s status as a creative genius.64

To further complicate the reception of Beethoven’s Scottish song settings, Thomson discontinued the distribution of them in 1820 on the basis that they were not commercially viable. Thomson felt that Beethoven’s settings were not meeting their full sales potential because the accompaniment that Beethoven provided for the songs was too difficult for the playing level of Thomson’s target audience: young Scottish women who were playing at home. Though Beethoven begrudgingly revised the accompaniments, altering the parts did not have the effect on sales that Thomson had hoped for.

Despite the unfavourable light in which Beethoven’s settings were often viewed, the reception of works that internalized their folk sources represents how a specific approach to synthesising the art and folk music traditions could have a completely different impact on the perception of a composer’s genius. Of the works that embody Beethoven’s more internalized application of folk music, “Ode to Joy” is a prime example.65 Beethoven’s 9th Symphony was deemed a more valuable example of the synthesis of folk and art music than his quotation-based works because it allowed the composer to assert individual agency while working with the universal foundation that folk music provided.66 Essentially, high aesthetic value was placed on a process of synthesis

62 Ibid., 215. 63 Ibid. 64 Ibid. 65 Ibid., 223. 66 Ibid.

137 between the folk and art music traditions that was untraceable because it allowed for the artistic whole of the work to overshadow its individual parts.67

The varying reception of Beethoven’s folk-quotation works compared to that of the folk- internalizing works illustrates the type of effect these pieces could have on composers’ reputations and the way the public perceived their creative abilities. Giuliani did work in the same musical sphere as Beethoven, although he was more invested in the light, popular entertainment side of the concert culture in Vienna. I believe that the reception of Beethoven’s folk-inspired works can help shed some light on the effect that Giuliani’s folk dances and variations had on his reception as a composer as well as the perception of the guitar as a solo and chamber instrument in his hands alongside its association with folk contexts. As evidenced by the reviews which appeared in the AmZ, Beethoven’s folk song settings did indeed reach Viennese markets, with the first responses to the composer’s Scottish song settings appearing in the AmZ in 1825 and 1828.68

4.5 Folksong and Dance as Popular Entertainment in Early Nineteenth-Century Vienna

Like those of Beethoven and Haydn, Giuliani’s folk-inspired works have received relatively little scholarly attention; however, unlike his canonical counterparts, folk dances and variation sets derived from folk melodies account for a large portion of Giuliani’s compositional output. Most of these works fall into one of two categories: Ländler/national dances, and variations on folk tunes. The Ländler, in particular, dominated Giuliani’s composition and publishing efforts as he produced 184 individual Ländler and waltz movements during his time in Vienna, excluding those without opus numbers.69 The Ländler, which originated in Austria’s Alpine region, was one of the country’s most popular folk dances prior to the dissemination of the waltz, polka, and mazurka.70 Giuliani’s dances were written for solo guitar as well as guitar duet and though the low level of difficulty of many of these pieces suggests that Giuliani meant for them to be played

67 Ibid., 218. 68 Ibid., 212-213. 69 Thomas Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, Kindle Edition (GFA Refereed Publications, 2013), location 5677. 70 Mosco Carner, "Ländler." Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Oxford University Press, accessed September 13, 2017, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/subscriber/article/grove/music/15945.

138 by amateurs, some of the more difficult dances may have been played by Giuliani in the salon- like gatherings he attended, if not in his public performances.

Although he was from Naples, Giuliani drew primarily from the folk culture of Austria rather than that of the country of his birth. Giuliani’s interest in Austrian folk music seems to have been very timely, as interest in the Volkslied began to surface in Austria around 1800 with evidence of deliberate folksong collecting appearing in 1803.71 This collection took the form of a topographical and statistical survey of Neuberg in Styria which featured the words and melodies of seven alpine songs. The survey was undertaken at the request of Archduke Johann of Austria (1782-1859) who was interested in collecting information on popular entertainment, folksongs, and national melodies.72 While the Archduke’s collection was assembled out of an interest in folk-related popular entertainment, other song collectors had slightly more literary aims. Achim von Arnim and Clemens Brentano, for example, collected over 700 German-language folksongs, some of which were of Austrian origin, between 1804 and 1807, and published them in the three- volume Des Knaben Wunderhorn. The liberties that Arnim and Brentano took when editing the melodies for their collection are now deemed somewhat unscholarly; however, the melodies were a source of inspiration for countless composers and writers well into the late nineteenth century.73 To follow up on the initial efforts of the 1803 survey, in 1811 the Gesellchaft der Musikfreunde and Archduke Johann made an appeal for songs to be collected in all parts of the Austrian Empire.74 The results of this survey, which took the form of a questionnaire, unearthed more material to supplement the 1803 survey.75

While it might not be unreasonable to speculate that Giuliani’s ethnic background may have created some tension with his assimilation of Austrian folk music into his own compositional language, the contemporary emphasis on cosmopolitanism rather than nationalism suggests that this may not have been an issue for Viennese audiences, especially not when Napoleon’s

71 Hellmut Federhofer, et al. "Austria." Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Oxford University Press, accessed September 14, 2017, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/subscriber/article/grove/music/40022. 72 Ibid. 73 Tim Ashley, "Des Knaben Wunderhorn." The Oxford Companion to Music. Oxford Music Online. Oxford University Press, accessed September 18, 2017, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/subscriber/article/opr/t114/e1896. 74 Federhofer, “Austria,” Grove Music Online. 75 Wolfgang Suppan and Eva Borneman, “Research on Folk Music in Austria since 1800,” Yearbook of the International Folk Music Council 8 (1976): 119.

139 conquest threatened Austria.76 The period leading up to and after Napoleon’s defeat in 1815 saw the cultivation of patriotic songs and Lieder.77 As noted in Chapter 2, Giuliani’s compositions based on Austrian folk dances and songs were not out of place in the celebratory atmosphere of post-Napoleonic Vienna, and these pieces were certainly marketable at a time when Austrian patriotism and the cooperation of the Empire with other European powers were at the forefront of people’s minds.

To complement the celebration of European culture after Napoleon’s defeat, there was also a more general emphasis on cosmopolitanism as opposed to nationalism as far as the early nineteenth-century folksong collecting and usage was concerned. This was linked to the move towards cosmopolitanism from the ‘us vs. them’ mentality of the earlier (pre-1800) period of the folk movement.78 During Giuliani’s time, the attitude toward using the music of various cultures as source material for compositions seems to have been much the same as Herder’s internationally-oriented approach to song collecting. Though Austrian folk styles figure prominently in Giuliani’s folk works, sources for numerous pieces in the guitarist’s oeuvre can be traced to Italy, Spain, Scotland, Ireland.

Aside from the collecting endeavours of the different groups who were invested in Austrian folk music, interest in folk music manifested itself in the variety of folk-derived performances in both private and public forums in the early nineteenth century. One of the most interesting performance examples from this time that effectively illustrates the attitudes towards ideas of the folk is the imperial family’s dramatic representations of peasant life.79 During popular feasts like Wirtschaften, Konigreiche, and Bauern, the imperial family would dress in peasant and hunter costumes and perform folksongs and dances.80 The commercialization of folk art also extended

76 During the Napoleonic wars, Vienna was under siege in 1805 and 1809. Both attacks resulted in the defeat of the Austrian forces and devastating consequences for the country and its emperor, Francis I. See Maiken Umbach, convenor, "1806: The End of the Old Reich," German History 24/3 (2006): 456. 77 Susan Youens, “Words and Music in Germany and France,” in The Cambridge History of Nineteenth-Century Music, ed. Jim Samson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 461, doi:10.1017/CHOL9780521590174.017. 78 Gelbart notes that ornamentation in folk music was initially problematic because of the association of ornaments with the Italian style. In the early nineteenth century, ornaments in folk music were problematic because of their association with more learned styles of music, rather than their link to certain national styles. See Gelbart, The Invention of “Folk Music” and ‘Art Music’, 178. 79 Ibid. 80 Ibid.

140 to special events sponsored by the imperial family and aristocrats. Such events took the form of exhibitions of traditional peasant costumes as well as competitions for folk musicians.81

Other popular styles of folk entertainment were public performances by dedicated folk performers. Thomas Heck believes that Giuliani’s interest in Austria’s folk dances was perhaps inspired by the Ländler Kapellen enjoyed by Viennese audiences.82 These small dance ensembles featured two fiddlers, a clarinet player, and bassist.83 The first fiddler was responsible for playing the melody, or Prim, while the second fiddler played a semi-improvised version of the melody a third higher or lower.84 The style of the dances played by these ensembles was the standard Ländler form also employed by Giuliani. With a ¾ time signature, Ländler typically feature two eight-measure phrases. These short dances were played in sets, beginning with slower dances and gradually increasing the tempo until the last dance, which returned to the original slow tempo. The melodies of these dances were often distinguished by a jodler-like quality featuring leaping triadic figures, typically in a major key. The characteristics of the Ländler are thought to have been brought to Vienna by so-called “Linzer Geiger”, violinists from Linz who settled in the suburbs of the city and played their music, often accompanied by a bass instrument, in local taverns.85

Giuliani’s publication of numerous sets of Ländler and collections of national dances in the 1810s seems to have participated in the Viennese dance culture that permeated both public and private spaces. Public balls were open to dancers of all social classes, and were often held at various inns and taverns around Vienna which had been converted to dance halls in the late eighteenth century.86 Despite the official nature of these balls, they were relatively accessible forms of evening entertainment at the time. In contrast with the public balls, Vienna also played host to a thriving culture of private dances which were accessible by invitation only. Dancing in private homes allowed for more intimate gatherings with friends that encouraged interaction

81 Wolfgang Suppan and Eva Borneman, “Research on Folk Music in Austria since 1800,” Yearbook of the International Folk Music Council 8 (1976): 119. 82 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 5662. 83 Ibid. 84 This second fiddle part was usually not written out as the player had to rely on the part of the first violin. See Heck, A Life for the Guitar, location 5662. 85 Martin Chusid, Schubert’s Dances: For Family, Friends, and Posterity (Hillsdale, NY: Pendragon Press, 2013), 67. 86Walburga Litschauer, “Dance Culture in the Biedermeier Era,” trans. Rita Steblin, in Martin Chusid, Schubert’s Dances for Family, Friends, and Posterity (Hillsdale, NY: Pendragon Press, 2013), xii.

141 between dancers who “fit in socially” with one another.87 Typically held by Vienna’s well-to-do citizens, private balls were often accompanied by refreshments to reenergize tired dancers, as these gatherings often lasted for hours. The most popular dances in Vienna at the time were primarily of folk origins, but encompassed a variety of national styles such as the German dance, Ländler, Ecossaise, Polonaise, Mazurka, Styrian, Anglaise, and Française.88 The dancers at private balls were most often accompanied by an amateur pianist, for the piano was one of the more common instruments to be found in the home,89 and it offered a relatively complete accompanimental texture within the smaller confines of residential spaces.

By the 1820s, the popularity of private balls gave rise to a significant music publishing trend in which collections of dances for piano, often written by various composers, were produced annually for the New Year or Carnival.90 The dances in these collections were not only popular, but their low level of difficulty meant that they could be easily played by amateur pianists at private balls. In her introduction to Martin Chusid’s Schubert’s Dances: for Family, Friends, and Posterity, Walburga Litschauer asserts that the dance collections published in the 1820s, such as Väterlandischer Künstlerverein (1824), began the trend of producing dance music for private entertainments. However, Giuliani’s sets of Ländler and collections of national dances predate the advent of this publishing phenomenon. I believe that Giuliani’s sets of dances are precursors, of sorts, to these later collections, channelling the Viennese interest in both folk culture and in dance as popular entertainment. The low level of difficulty of his dances, as well as his frequent inclusion of a second guitar part—a choice in instrumentation that would substitute for a piano without sacrificing texture and harmony—positions Giuliani’s dances as part of this burgeoning culture of private entertainment.

4.6 Remembering the Dance of the Days of Old: Giuliani’s Ländler Sets, 1810-1819

Giuliani’s dances are much like those of his contemporaries such as Franz Schubert, in that they are harmonically, melodically, and formally simple, retaining close stylistic ties with the folk

87 Ibid., xv. 88 Ibid., xx. 89 Ibid, xvi. 90 Ibid., xviii.

142 roots of the dance.91 Heck describes Giuliani’s Ländler as a combination of Austrian folk music with the notational refinement of a three-voice texture similar to that of the Ländler-Kapellen.92 Though Giuliani would undoubtedly have been familiar with the Ländler-Kapellen, his approach to composing Ländler suggests that he was attempting to replicate the style of the dances that were part of private gatherings. Given his documented involvement in performances that took place in private homes93 as well as his social engagement with his circle of friends, it seems likely that Giuliani was composing his sets of dances with the more intimate culture of the private gathering in mind. Thomas Heck briefly highlights Giuliani’s folk-inspired works to demonstrate how they, like Giuliani’s other compositions, exemplify the composer’s sophisticated notation of voice leading. However, I would like to examine some of these pieces more closely, focussing on those Giuliani may have played in public or private performances, with respect to how they relate to contemporaneous notions of folk music, Herder’s concept of folk genius, and the synthesis of disparate musical traditions. By examining these aspects of Giuliani’s Ländler, national dances, and variations on folk themes, I hope to illustrate the complex and myriad ways in which these works played into the folk culture in Vienna and shaped Giuliani’s reception.

Compared to Giuliani’s other compositions, many of his Ländler were composed in a simple style without virtuosic embellishments, suggesting that they were not likely meant for his own performances, but hinting at their commercial nature. Overall, Giuliani’s Ländler seem to have been written as simple pieces that could be easily played by amateur guitarists, in an effort to ensure successful sales. This aspect of the pieces is supported by the fact that several of his Ländler publications, including those to be discussed here, were advertised in the Wiener Zeitung at the time of their release.94 Several of the dances were written for two guitars (Opp. 16a, 55, 75, 80, 92 and 94) with both parts of similar difficulty, though some feature a more difficult first

91 Like Giuliani, Franz Schubert also composed numerous dances, including Ländler, for amateur pianists to play at the type of private gatherings he frequented. Schubert’s Ländler style is much like Giuliani’s in that he retains the musical characteristics associated with traditional Ländler such as the yodel-like melodies, major keys, simple harmonic structure with little to no modulation, and, as a result of the lack of modulation, very little chromaticism. In terms of form, Schubert also utilizes the simple and short 16-measure binary phrase structure. See Chusid, Schubert’s Dances, 68. 92 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 5701. 93 Thomas Heck has translated and analyzed Reichardt’s account of Giuliani’s private performance. See Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 349. 94 Mauro Giuliani, The Complete Works: in Facsimiles of the Original Editions vol. 19, ed. Brian Jeffrey (London: Tecla Editions, 1984-8), notes.

143 guitar part. Interestingly, the Ländler duets he composed towards the end of his stay in Vienna were written for guitar and terz guitar, a choice of instrumentation that was likely influenced by the novelty of the smaller guitar and the success Giuliani had with the instrument in performance.95 In addition to their potential for domestic music making, the pieces that feature a slightly more difficult first guitar part may have also been intended for Giuliani and his students to play as pedagogical exercises.96 Giuliani’s 16 Österreichische national-Ländler für zwei Guitarren op. 16a fit into this category. Underneath the title on the original score, published by Artaria in 1811, the title page reads “Componirt und dem Herrn Heinrich Gründler Zugeeignet von Seinem Lehrer Mauro Giuliani”.97 The title page identifies Heinrich Gründler as Giuliani’s student, but not much is known about him. Unlike some of Giuliani’s other students, such as Franz Mendl, Gründler seems to not have performed in public, and if the dances are any indication of his skill level, Gründler was probably a beginner or an intermediate player. Possibly meant as an exercise for his student, Giuliani’s second guitar part, though not strictly accompanimental, is less difficult compared to the first guitar part and would have been playable by a student. Notably, the Ländler as a form also offers the aspiring guitarist an opportunity to practice basic left- and right-hand techniques. In particular, the characteristic arpeggiated melody of the Ländler provides the student with a means of practicing the right-hand finger patterns associated with arpeggios.

With respect to the folk dance origins of the Ländler, Giuliani retains most of the defining characteristics of the dance in his op. 16. Aside from the aforementioned arpeggiated melody, the sixteen dances are also in the key of A major (a relatively easy key to play in on the guitar), each featuring two, repeated eight-measure phrases in ¾ time. Giuliani takes advantage of the simple characteristics of the Ländler and uses these characteristics as the basis for pedagogical pieces that played into the popularity of folk music and dances with his intended audience. Having two guitar parts would have helped to recreate the sound of multiple instruments playing individual parts while taking into consideration the space restrictions of the private home, especially if the guitars were accompanying dancing guests. Though not much is known about the types of rooms

95 Giuliani’s use of the terz guitar in concert is discussed in more detail above in Chapter 2. 96 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 5441. 97 Giuliani, The Complete Works vol. 19, ed. Brian Jeffrey, notes.

144 that were used for private balls, Giuliani’s catalogue of Ländler could accommodate even the smallest of rooms, as he also wrote several easy dances for solo guitar.

For his sets of dances for solo guitarist, such as the op. 24b 14 National Dances and 3 Marches (1810), 98 Giuliani used a very similar formula to that of his two-guitar dances. Op. 24b, like his sets of Ländler, features several popular dances in a simple style; however, op. 24b is an interesting entry in the composer’s oeuvre in that it features dances from a variety of cultural origins, but most importantly, the most popular dances in Vienna at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Of the fourteen dances in the set, most are of Italian origin. Giuliani includes traditional Italian folk dances such as the tarantella and monferrina, but also includes dances that are meant to be evocative of specific geographic locations in Italy such as the second dance, “Menuetto Corona, o alla Ghirlanda”. Within this set of primarily Italian dances is one Ländler, no. 8 “La Tirolese,” and one fandango, no. 7 “Fandango all Spagnola”. Unlike Giuliani’s Ländler sets, the dances in op. 24b do not seem as though they were meant to be played together. The varying difficulty and styles of the dances suggests that players were free to group together certain dances for their own purposes, or perhaps to satisfy the various tastes of those for whom they were playing. Despite the fact that some dances, like the tarantella, offer a bit more of a technical challenge for the player, all the dances in op. 24 are accessible for the amateur and the collection even features pieces, such as the no. 13 “Ecossaise,” that could be played by a beginning guitarist.

Giuliani’s op. 24b 14 National Dances are just one entry in the guitarist’s oeuvre of sets of national dances for solo guitar. In addition to the evocatively titled Neue Wald-Ländler op. 23, which were also published in 1810, Giuliani composed sets of dances throughout the duration of his time in Vienna. Alongside his dances for solo guitar such as op. 44 Zwölf Ländler (1814) and op. 58 6 Ländler, 6 Waltzer, 6 Ecossaises (1819), Giuliani also composed a set of 19 Ländler for solo piano which are undated and do not have an opus number. These pieces, though not performed by Giuliani in public, represent the commercial aspect of the folk movement in Vienna, as they speak to popularity of folk dances amongst amateur musicians, and the potential lucrativeness of publishing folk-inspired pieces for this local market.

98 Though the opus number of the dances contains the three marches, the designation of the opus number to these marches was created by Thomas Heck while he was cataloguing these works in 1980. See Brian Jeffrey, Mauro Giuliani: The Complete Works in Facsimile volume 19, notes.

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Giuliani’s publication of several sets of Ländler and other national dances between 1810 and 1815 not only highlights the popularity of the genre within the larger dance culture of Vienna, but also the nature of Giuliani’s engagement with this particular folk tradition. The guitarist’s publication of these national dance styles reveals a focus on distinctly Austrian folk traditions in conjunction with occasional compilations of national dances, suggesting that Giuliani attempted to capitalize on the patriotic sentiments fostered by the Napoleonic Wars (as I explored in Chapter 2), particularly during the 1809 patriotic campaign. What is interesting about Giuliani’s use of the Ländler is the way he targeted a specific audience—namely amateurs who played for their friends at private gatherings meant for dancing—with his simple dances for one and two guitars. In the concert reviews from the AmZ, these dances are conspicuously missing from the programmes of Giuliani’s performances from 1810–1819, even during the Congress. It is likely that he never performed them in public. Admittedly, the dances retain the folk-like quality of the Ländler tradition in that they are simple and do not easily lend themselves to virtuosic display, but Giuliani seems to have used their inherent simplicity as a base upon which to construct a folk ethos that was immediately accessible for his intended audience. Giuliani refines his source material enough to make it palatable for the listener; however, unlike Beethoven’s complex Scottish song settings, Giuliani’s dances are easily playable on the guitar. Considering Giuliani’s awareness of popular trends, his decision to retain the simplicity of the popular folk dance was seemingly not influenced by the desire to preserve the characteristics of the Ländler as a folk tradition, but by his awareness of the dance’s popularity with his audience, and its potential to earn him profit.

4.7 The Confluence of the Natural and Unnatural: Giuliani’s Variations on Folk Themes

Giuliani’s variations represent a different, but equally significant, attempt to integrate Austrian folk traditions, as well as those of other cultures, into his oeuvre. Compared to his Ländler, in which Giuliani channelled a folk style that closely mimicked its sources, his variations on folk themes represent a distinct kind of interaction between folk sources and his compositional style. True to the stylistic conventions of early nineteenth-century variation form, Giuliani’s variations on folk themes are focused on placing the theme into a more virtuosic idiom, rather than trying to evoke or compose in a folk style as with his Ländler. It is in the variations that the tension between Giuliani’s virtuosity and his interest in folk music is the most perceptible, as the

146 difficulty level of many of these pieces suggests that he did in fact perform them publicly as showpieces. My investigation of Giuliani’s variations on folk themes of Austrian and other origins will involve taking a closer look at the potential sources, style, and intended audience of pieces that Giuliani may have played himself, either in undocumented public concerts or in more private, salon-like atmospheres.

Performance in a private setting was likely the case for Giuliani’s variations on the Austrian folksong “I bin a Kohlbauern Bub,” op. 49. Giuliani published these variations in 1811, dedicating the set to Madame von Rittersburg, a wealthy Viennese salonniere and amateur singer. Rittersburg reportedly hosted weekly salons at her home in 1809.99 Prior to the publication of op. 49, a written account of Rittersburg’s musical gatherings by Friedrich Reichardt places Giuliani in her home in 1809,100 suggesting that the guitarist was in contact with the salonniere for several years and likely performed for her guests more than once. I believe the melody of “I bin a Kohlbauren Bub,” the title of which roughly translates as “I am a cabbage farm boy,” has more than one title. The collection of folksongs compiled by Franz Ziska and Julius Maximilian Schotty, entitled Österreichische Volkslieder mit ihren Singweisen and first published in Budapest in 1819, features a very similar melody with a different title. While studying this collection, I found a melody that closely resembles “Kohlbauern Bub” under the title “Luftschlösser” in the Kinderlieder section of the folksong compilation (Example 4.1).101 Subsequent editions of the collection from 1844 and 1906 also feature a song entitled “Kohlenbauerknabe” under the Kinderlieder heading; however, this similarly-titled song does not resemble Giuliani’s melody, though it is in close proximity to “Luftschlösser” in the collection. Österreichische Volkslieder mit ihren Singweisen was the first collection of exclusively Austrian folksongs to be published.102 Though Arnim and Brentano’s 1805 Des Knaben Wunderhorn does feature some songs of Austrian origin,103 their anthology does not include music for the folk texts they compiled and none of the texts seem to resemble that of

99 Tia DeNora, Beethoven and the Construction of Genius: Musical Politics in Vienna, 1792-1803 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 22. 100 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 349. See my discussion of Giuliani amidst Viennese salon culture in Chapter 2. 101 Franz Ziska and Julius Maximilian Schotty, Österreichische Volkslieder mit ihren Singweisen, (Pest: Hartleben’s Verlag, 1819), 40. 102 Wolfgang Suppan and Eva Borneman, “Research on Folk Music in Austria since 1800,” Yearbook of the International Folk Music Council 8 (1976): 119. 103 Ibid.

147

“Luftschlosser” or “Kohlbauerknabe.” How Giuliani came to know the melody for “I bin a Kohlbauern Bub” is a bit of a mystery; however, since a similar melody appeared in Österreichische Volkslieder eight years after he published his set of variations, it is more than likely that the melody was in circulation in Vienna in its oral form and he may have learned the melody from another performer, from one of the friends in his musical circle, or even from Mme. Rittersburg herself, about whom not much is known outside her dealings with Giuliani.

Example 4.1 “Luftschösser” from Österreichische Volkslieder mit ihren Singweisen.

Giuliani’s variations on “I bin a Kohlbauern Bub” represent a relatively adventurous approach to the genre compared to the guitarist’s other variation sets. In his monograph, Thomas Heck

148 provides a brief outline of the stylistic traits of each variation.104 However, I would like to broaden this discussion by analyzing the transformations of the theme in each variation in order to consider the ways Giuliani engaged with the original folk source and what this engagement meant for the reception of his works in this vein. Throughout the six variations in the set, Giuliani frequently departs from the theme in favour of virtuosic display. Despite these departures from the theme, each variation, with the exception of the fifth, “fantasy” variation in the parallel minor, retains the simple tonic-dominant harmony of the theme (Example 4.2).

Example 4.2 The theme from Giuliani’s op. 49 variations on “I bin a Kohlbauern Bub.”

Each variation grows progressively more distant from the theme as Giuliani presents various virtuosic figurations that require dramatic alterations to the simple theme, pulling it further away from its folksong roots. The first variation retains the basic outline of the melody, but pushes it into the background of the texture which is dominated by constantly moving sixteenth-notes in the bass strings (Example 4.3). In the second phrase of the variation Giuliani shifts the rumbling sixteenth-notes to the treble strings, removing the remaining notes from the original theme and leaving just the bass notes of the harmony of the theme. Throughout the variations Giuliani plays with rhythmic diminution, as a means of infusing the set with opportunities for virtuosic display at the expense of preserving the theme. The second variation follows this trend, focussing on fast

104 Heck, Mauro Giuliani: A Life for the Guitar, location 5507.

149 left-hand displays in the first phrase of the theme and a contrasting second phrase which allows the player to demonstrate his right-hand technique with arpeggios.

The third variation, which features triplets, contrasts greatly with variation 4, which employs slurs. Leading up to the fantasy-variation, this fourth variation departs from the theme more dramatically than those that preceded it (Example 4.4). What is interesting about the slurs is the way they are intended to be performed. Unlike the slurs in the second phrase of this variation, the slurs in the first phrase are played by sliding the left-hand fingers across the neck without releasing pressure on the strings. This makes the slurs sound more like portamentos, with the shortness of each slur adding an element of playfulness and humour to the variation.

150

Example 4.4 Variation 4 from Giuliani’s op. 49 variations on “I bin a Kohlbauern Bub.”

The fifth variation in op. 49 (Example 4.5) marks the only move to the parallel minor, signifying the beginning of the only fantasy-style variation in the set. This variation, as with other penultimate variations in Giuliani’s sets, functions as a type of dramatic episode before the return of the theme in the final variation. However, this variation is less focused on overt virtuosic display and is more lyrical in nature. Giuliani drastically expands the sixteen-measure form of the theme in this variation, giving himself more space to be a bit more harmonically adventurous, though not outright experimental. The main features of the variation are the points of harmonic tension that Giuliani creates and resolves, mostly through diminished seventh chords. Giuliani draws attention to these brief dissonances with sforzando markings and constant changes in dynamics.

151

Example 4.5 Variation 5 from Giuliani’s op. 49 variations on “I bin a Kohlbauern Bub.”

The slow, more contemplative nature of variation 5 contrasts greatly with the final variation, which not only returns to the home key of A major, but also marks the return of clear references to the theme and, simultaneously, more overt virtuosic display. Giuliani initially maintains the structure of the folk theme by presenting an eight-measure repeated phrase, but he departs from the structure of the second phrase, expanding it drastically in a finale that both reinforces the main characteristics of the theme (i.e.: tonic-dominant harmony and a simple, scalar melody) as

152 well as his own virtuosic ability (Example 4.6). The way these two elements interact in this variation highlights the nature of Giuliani’s treatment of the original folk theme throughout the set as the composer attempts to create the most technically dazzling performative display with the most basic musical materials. In a way, Giuliani’s addition of virtuosic elements to the folk theme seems to stretch the original material to its limits, making what was thought of as simple and natural into something that is superficially complex. This superficial complexity creates tension with the simplicity of the folk theme by drawing attention to two musical extremes which seem to be at odds with one another.

Example 4.6 Finale from Giuliani’s op. 49 variations on “I bin a Kohlbauern Bub.”

Though several of Giuliani’s folk-inspired works were based on Austrian folk traditions, some of his most enduring works written during his sojourn in Vienna were connected to folk traditions of other cultures. Folk dances and melodies of Spain and the composer’s native Italy have a strong presence in Giuliani’s oeuvre. Among such works is a set of six variations on the Folies D’espagne, which Giuliani published with Artaria in 1814. This piece is notable in Giuliani’s compositional output not only because it represents another attempt to synthesize the folk and art music traditions, but because of the folia melody’s unique historical connection with the guitar.

153

By the time Giuliani was writing his op. 45 variations at the beginning of the nineteenth century, the folia melody had been a source of inspiration for many variation sets. Though the uses of the melody by J.S. Bach, C.P.E. Bach, and Antonio Salieri represent the most immediate precursors to Giuliani’s variation set, the history of the folia melody stretches back to the fifteenth century. The history of the folia as a harmonic sequence can be divided into earlier (pre-1675) and later (late seventeenth century through twentieth century) periods, with the later period encompassing the development of the folia melody in association with the harmonic progression.105 The earliest reference to the folia was with respect to a fifteenth-century Portuguese dance. Accounts of this dance from the sixteenth century describe it as noisy and fast, involving street porters carrying young men dressed in women’s clothing.106 This rowdy display was most often accompanied by guitars and different types of tambourines called sonajas and panderos.107

Though the earlier folia dance originated in Portugal, it eventually gained immense popularity in the vocal repertory of Spain after becoming associated with the Spanish five-course guitar tradition.108 With no melody or bass, the folia is defined by a I-V-I-VII chord progression. In the early seventeenth-century tablature books for the five-course guitar, this progression was accompanied by strumming indications which specified the direction of the strums for the player. This guitar style functions as a clear precursor to the accompanimental, chord-based guitar styles of the late eighteenth century. One of the earliest uses of the folia chord sequence occurs in Alonso Mudarra’s Tres libros de música en cifras para vihuela from 1546.109 It is through the Spanish guitar tradition that the folia progression was introduced to Italian musicians, a phenomenon that is documented by the numerous folias found in Italian guitar tablature books from the early seventeenth century.110 These folia books, such as Girolamo Montesardo’s 1606 publication Nuova inventione d’involatura, often presented a series of folia, each adding different chords to expand the standard I-V-I-VII framework.111 These books are thought to have been created for pedagogical purposes, demonstrating to the player how the main structural

105 Richard Hudson, “The Folia Melodies,” Acta Musicologica 45, no. 1 (1973): 98. 106 Giuseppe Gerbino and Alexander Silbiger, "Folia," Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Oxford University Press, accessed October 2, 2017, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.myaccess.library.utoronto.ca/subscriber/article/grove/music/09929. 107 Ibid. 108 Hudson, “The Folia Melodies,” 98. 109 Gerbino and Silbiger, “Folia,” Grove Music Online. 110 Hudson, “The Folia in Guitar Music,” 199. 111 Gerbino and Silbiger, “Folia,” Grove Music Online.

154 chords of the sequence could be reached by different means.112 In addition to the guitar tablature these folia were occasionally accompanied by text, suggesting the continued use of the form in Italian vocal repertoire; though the folia as a dance was rooted in Portuguese culture, the folia as a melody is thought to be a courtly song of Italian origin.113

The structure of the later folia began to appear in the 1670s. Changes to the folia sequence emerged as the result of Jean Baptiste Lully’s exploration of the folia in his Air des hautbois (1672). The changes that Lully included in his folia variations were primarily rhythmic; rather than maintaining the older, quarter note pulse in ¾ time, Lully changed the second beat to a dotted quarter note, placing greater accentuation on beat two and making the variations sound more like a sarabande.114 The connection of the folia with the sarabande was further reinforced by the slow and stately manner in which the folia melody was often performed, as well as by the omission of the ritornello that had characterized earlier iterations of the folia. Lully’s changes to the folia were taken up by other composers, with some of the earliest examples of the later folia style being found the lute variations of Jacques Gallot’s Pieces de luth composes sur différens modes (1672).115 The plucked string instruments associated with the folia continued to include the guitar, which likely played an integral role in the dissemination of the new folia formula. The Spanish guitar virtuoso Francesco Corbetta immigrated to France in 1648, and many of his works from this time exhibit the characteristics of the late folia.116

The history of the folia and its entanglement with both folk and courtly cultural traditions is echoed in Giuliani’s set of folia variations, which, like other folk-inspired compositions at the time, attempted to synthesize disparate musical traditions. On one hand, Giuliani taps into the rich history of the folia as a folk dance and courtly song; on the other, he also engages with the art music tradition of using the folia as the basis of a set of variations. Underlying this synthesis of musical traditions is Giuliani’s invocation of the folia as a musical tradition that was directly linked to the guitar.

112 Ibid. 113 Otto Gombosi, “The Cultural and Folkloristic Background of the ‘Folía,’” Papers of the American Musicological Society (1940): 89. 114 Gerbino and Silbiger, “Folia,” Grove Music Online. 115 Ibid. 116 Ibid.

155

True to the defining characteristics of the folia, Giuliani’s op. 45 is in D minor with a ¾ time signature and the standard folia chord progression. Giuliani’s faithfulness to the key that is traditionally associated with the folia is interesting in that flat keys are typically avoided in guitar music because of the technical challenge posed by playing the open strings flat. Perhaps because of his adherence to some of the traditional characteristics of the folia sequence, Giuliani’s initial statement of the folia melody forgoes the more recent dotted quarter-note rhythm in favour of a variation on the older quarter-note rhythm, with eighth notes on beats three and four in the even numbered measures (Example 4.7).

Example 4.7 Theme from Giuliani’s op. 45 “Folia” Variations.

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As in other variation sets composed by Giuliani during his time in Vienna, the guitarist here uses each variation to demonstrate the variety of his technical skills as a virtuoso. When grouped together, variations 1-4 gradually build energy and momentum in the set, as each variation becomes progressively more difficult for the player. In variation 1, Giuliani expands the folia melody with eighth notes while staying close to the harmony outlined in the theme. Similarly, the second variation maintains the harmonic framework of the theme while the folia melody is played in the bass an octave lower than in its first iteration. In this variation, Giuliani accompanies the bass melody with sixteenth-note slurs in the upper voice. These slurs are the first overt display of virtuosity to be featured in the set, as the first variation really only involves an increase in speed. Interestingly, Giuliani delicately balances the statement of the folia melody with the showy slurs, which function as a kind of ornamentation meant to complement the unaltered folk melody in the bass. With this balance between the statement of the theme and the presentation of virtuosic display, both elements are easily perceived by the listener (Example

Example 4.8 Variation 1 from Giuliani’s op. 45 “Folia” Variations.

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4.8). In a way, Giuliani clearly presents both musical traditions, but avoids integrating them, instead opting to keep them separate.

Variation 3, which focuses on the folia harmony rather than the melody, features quick, arpeggiated chords. Similarly, variation 4 presents a faithful reiteration of the harmonic scheme of the folia while abandoning the melody in favour of Giuliani’s trademark octaves running up and down the fretboard. Both variations 3 and 4 privilege virtuosic display over varying the folia melody, but they do not stray from the traditional harmonic progression, which is arguably at the core of the history of the folia tradition especially as it relates to the guitar.

Most of Giuliani’s variation sets are fairly conservative in their treatment of the theme; however, like op. 49, Giuliani here dramatically departs from the original theme in variation 5, which functions as the “fantasy” variation of the set. Compared to Giuliani’s other fantasy variations, variation 5 is not exceptionally adventurous in its treatment of the theme, focusing primarily on presenting a slower (it is marked ‘un poco piu adagio”), major-mode iteration of the folia melody. What is interesting about this variation is precisely that Giuliani initially presents it as a simple reiteration of the folia theme in D major, an approach to the theme that is less virtuosic and more lyrical. After the 16-measure theme is stated in its entirety, Giuliani expands the theme with an additional 16-measure transitional passage that is elided with the final variation (Example 4.9).

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Example 4.9 Variation 5 from Giuliani’s op. 45 “Folia” Variations.

This transitional passage in variation 5 features Giuliani’s most playful and least direct adaptation of the folia melody. Rather than making another overt statement of the melody, he outlines certain distinct features of it, such as the memorable pulsation of scale degree 1 from the opening measure. The transitional passage closes with more parallel octaves, signalling a return to virtuosity and the folia melody (Example 4.10).

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Example 4.10 Transition to the finale of Giuliani’s op. 45 “Folia” Variations.

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The last variation once again blends virtuosic elements with a treatment of the theme that maintains its key characteristics. This final iteration of the theme is distinct in Giuliani’s shortening of the original quarter notes with eighth rests, a change that, while not visually interesting in performance from the audience’s perspective, is challenging for the player because it requires a high degree of right hand precision and control to mute the strings after plucking. Phrases of the theme are separated by grand parallel octave gestures at cadential points (Example 4.11). The “allegro vivace” tempo marking contributes to the virtuosic display, leading up to a surprising return to the parallel major in the final measures of the piece.

Example 4.11 Finale of Giuliani’s op. 45 variations.

Giuliani’s op. 45 Variations on the Folia d’Espagne encompass the composer’s approach to using folk materials in that they demonstrate his hesitance to fully synthesize the musical traditions he draws inspiration from. Each variation privileges either the folk melody or a virtuosic display, keeping the two realms separate. Variations 1 and 2, though arguably more virtuosic than the theme, feature faithful representations of the theme with merely ornamental virtuosic additions. Variations 3 and 4, on the other hand, maintain the folia harmony but abandon the melody in favour of more overt virtuosic displays. Giuliani’s preservation of the folia harmony throughout the variation set may have been motivated by an interest in continuing

161 a musical tradition that was particularly related to the guitar, rather than showcasing a specific folk tradition. Considering the perceived power of folk music in the early nineteenth century, perhaps aligning the guitar with a folk tradition that was fused with a slightly more learned style of composition was Giuliani’s way of demonstrating the suitability of the instrument to both styles, building on the guitar’s established folk roots while demonstrating its potential for soloistic display.

4.8 Giuliani’s Folk-Inspired Works: Integration and Possible Reception

Though Giuliani was just one of many composers who engaged with folk music over the course of his career, the issues at stake when analyzing Giuliani’s use of folk music are not the same issues that have been studied in relation to other composers. For instance, Haydn’s and Beethoven’s folksong settings and folk-inspired works are often considered in terms of the way folk elements create tension with the learned style of these composers (Ferraguto 2014; Petho, 2000; Biamonte, 2006). As Giuliani’s works were not regarded as embodiments of the learned style, his use of folk elements creates tension with other aspects of his career, notably that of the showy virtuoso performer, and perhaps represent a type of experimentation with sources in aid of fitting the guitar into existing musical traditions rather than forging a new tradition for the instrument. However, this endeavor appears problematic because Giuliani attempted to fit the guitar primarily into the quotation-based folk tradition, rather than integrating his source material to make it untraceable while infusing it with his own creative sensibilities. Arguably then, this approach, while possibly more “authentic” with regard to the preservation of his sources, jeopardized the long-term reputation of his work in this realm, as based upon his ability to creatively interact with the folk traditions he borrowed from, and thus his own reputation as an artist.

The position of Giuliani’s works outside of the art music canon may call into question the validity of an analysis that prioritizes assessment of the integration of folk and art music traditions. While Giuliani’s music may not have been considered art music proper due to its popular associations, Giuliani nevertheless composed using art music forms, and in the tonal harmonic language of the art music tradition, not the modality of folk repertoires. However, his oeuvre lacks the large-scale works and aura of artistic experimentation that defines the art music

162 of his contemporaries in historiographic account. Considering the rather liminal existence of Giuliani’s compositions between art music and popular music, it is not unreasonable to assess with what means and to what degree the guitarist integrated the two musical traditions in his own work.

Thomas Heck’s account of Giuliani’s performances in Vienna in the early nineteenth century make little mention of the guitarist actually performing his folk-derived works in public. This suggests, perhaps, that Giuliani attempted to compartmentalize his participation in Vienna’s disparate musical trends. Borrowing from folk music was lucrative from a publishing perspective, as consumers favoured easy arrangements that could be played at home, but virtuosic display was a driving force behind ticket sales for public events. On a less practical and more aesthetic level, these two aspects of Giuliani’s career were also at odds with one another. The folk music movement was opposed to virtuosity and embellishment, as such things were contrary to the simplicity of those songs that had piqued the interest of collectors precisely because of their embodiment of “natural culture.” Virtuosity, on the other hand, was akin to artifice and thus unnatural, a quality that was embodied by the virtuoso’s preternatural talent and seeming transcendence of what was thought to be humanly possible, and in Giuliani’s case, possible on the guitar.

While Giuliani as an individual seemingly possessed the ability to harness the disparate powers of virtuosity and folk music as competing trends, this combination of musical styles is not the only point of tension that Giuliani generated when he assimilated folk music into his compositional output. In fact, the way Giuliani incorporated folk music into his compositions was a source of tension within itself, as his relatively straightforward, quotational approach to using folk sources could be understood as challenging his own artistic authority and his audience’s perception of his creativity. Matthew Riley asserts that stylistic reconciliation, especially as it pertains to folk music and art music, was an appealing idea to the Romantics because they were concerned with both the composer’s individual style (i.e., his independence from rules and adherence to personal musical ideals) and with the negative effects of the alienation of the popular audience and the dissolution of shared culture caused by total subjectivity.117 He argues that Beethoven’s settings for Thomson were among the first examples

117 Riley and Smith, Nation and Classical Music, 50.

163 of such reconciliation because, with their bold harmonizations, the settings displayed a degree of genius and originality that ostensibly “matched the primitive genius of the folk source.”118 It is in this regard that I think the nature of Giuliani’s efforts may have negatively affected his attempts at integrating himself and the guitar into Vienna’s music culture in the longer term, beyond the historical scope of the commercial and entertainment cultures of his milieu. Giuliani’s approach to composition was less about the reconciliation of different stylistic elements and more about the compartmentalization of these trends, which resulted in their establishment as opposites in his career. His Ländler retain the characteristics of the dance to such a degree that his own creative expression is made subordinate to the defining elements of the dance. Conversely, in his sets of variations on folk themes, Giuliani foregrounds virtuosity at the expense of preserving the simplicity of his sources, and this, in turn, also jeopardizes his artistic expression and authorial voice as a composer. Sets of variations that seem to establish a balance between these two elements, such as his folia variations, fail to truly integrate his folk sources as they remain too easily traceable by the listener. Ultimately, rather than synthesizing his compositional style with folk music, he chose to foreground specific elements to suit the contemporary tastes of his intended public. This would have been a rather shrewd move on his part, as his more beginner- friendly folk-inspired works were likely to have been appreciated by guitarists who favored song accompaniment, demonstrating to them how melody and accompaniment could be played at the same time, and perhaps even providing a point of entry into solo playing.

Despite Giuliani’s attachment to the more quotation-based approach to integrating folk sources into his own compositional language, his fantasy-variations in op. 45 and op. 49 offer a glimpse of the guitarist’s potential for a deeper level of stylistic synthesis. It is in these variations that Giuliani uses his folk material as a source of inspiration and a point of departure. Though their existence in a set of variations, as opposed to a more developmental form, has restricted their potential to be regarded by historians as masterful syntheses of folk and art music, these variations exemplify a type of creativity that is distinctive from Giuliani’s other variations and national dances. In using folk melodies as the basis for his own works, then, Giuliani participated fully and flexibly in the tradition of striking the string and remembering the song of the days of old. Like Macpherson and Herder, Giuliani acted as a translator for these melodies, adapting them to the new solo guitar style while also invoking the instrument’s folk associations.

118 Ibid.

Epilogue: London 1833

The year 1833 saw the publication of London’s first guitar-focused magazine dedicated to Giuliani, The Giulianiad. Although he had performed primarily in Austria and Italy, the effect of Giuliani’s death in 1829 was arguably most perceptible in this London-based magazine. The Giulianiad provides an interesting snapshot of the ‘afterlife’ of Giuliani’s career, as well as giving a sense of an identity to the people who were consuming his music outside of the cities where he concertized. With its abundance of beginner-friendly guitar music, the magazine’s primary mission was to provide accessible material for aspiring guitarists to play at home once they had learned the basics of playing from a method book.1 Aside from these arrangements, only some of which were written by Giuliani himself, the Giulianiad also provided readers with an opportunity to share their guitar-related thoughts and experiences. Most issues feature poems and letters to the editor written by the magazine’s readers. These sections of the magazine offer a glimpse of the domestic life of the guitar, and they serve to underscore the way Giuliani was perceived by his audience, further highlighting the guitar’s liminal position between the boundaries of public and private life.

The inaugural issue of the magazine echoes many of the sentiments regarding Giuliani and the guitar that were prominent during the virtuoso’s lifetime. In this issue, Giuliani is positioned not only as a guitarist of unparalleled skill, but a unique artist whose playing represented the ideal synthesis of tone, expression, and execution: But Giuliani’s tone however perfect in itself was secondary, as it ought to be, to the grand quality of expression. Tone is only the means to an end—that end being expression; without expression, tone is like the rough diamond in the mine [… ] Expression, then, being the grand aim, not only of the guitar player, but every musician […] His execution, although he made it entirely subservient to tone and expression, was not the less wonderful, taking into consideration the nature of the instrument. It was clear, dexterous, animated, and impressive—and being, like a beautiful racer, under the curb and control of a consummate master, it never ran riot out of its destined course.2

1 “Observations on the Music of the First Number of The Giulianiad,” The Giulianiad vol. 1 no.4 (April 1833): 37. 2 “Giuliani,” The Giulianiad vol.1 no.1 (January 1833): 7.

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Perhaps most significantly, Giuliani is credited as a pioneer of a new style of guitar playing which, though not truly imitable, should be emulated by future students of the instrument by aiming for the same balance between aspects of playing: “We should say to the guitar player, then, imitate Giuliani—sacrifice execution to tone, and tone to expression.” That Giuliani was understood by his audience as distinct and inimitable stands as a testament to the effectiveness of the public persona he crafted for himself. The quality of his performance style could be quantified and defined by a seemingly perfect balance between technical ability and musical expression. In a way, Giuliani crafted his own brand of playing, and the defining characteristics of this brand were easily identified by his audience. This is especially interesting in the case of The Giulianiad, considering that London played host to Fernando Sor, Giuliani’s Spanish counterpart with whom he was often compared, while Giuliani is not known to have performed in London.

Aside from celebrating Giuliani as a performer, The Giulianiad also served a didactic function, and fostered a sense of community for its readers. The magazine’s capacity to help its readers strive for the quality of playing exemplified by Giuliani was not lost on its readers, some of whom attempted to use the magazine to influence the way the community learned the instrument. One correspondent in particular—a reader identified as N.—comments at length on the value of including excerpts of Fernando’s Sor’s music in a future issue in order to counteract the so-called ‘quacks’ who were giving lessons that did not respect the capabilities of the instrument:

I trust, Mr. Editor, that in giving some extracts of this splendid fantasia [Sor’s op. 7], in one of your next numbers, they will not only be welcome to those who love the instrument, but might, perhaps, do a great deal of good among a certain class of ding-dong Marsyasses, who profess, by their fallacious assertion, infecting inexperienced minds with an idea that the guitar is only fit for an accompaniment. Their assertion need excite no surprise, for as they are evidently ignorant of the capability of the instrument, they cannot, of course, be competent to teach what they themselves do not understand. Thus then, their ‘Six Lesson Pupils’ remain forever standing, as it were, upon one leg, with the other lifted up to step into the vestibule that leads to the sanctuary of the guitar, but prevented by their excellent masters from venturing farther, for fear of both master and pupil breaking their necks […] But the guitar, as a classical instrument, would be exploded forever, had it the misfortune to depend on the mercy of such quacks.3

3 “Sor,” The Giulianiad vol.1, no.3 (March 1833): 28.

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N.’s request to have excerpts of Sor’s op. 7 printed in The Giulianiad was successful, as the excerpts were printed in the same issue in which his letter appeared. His letter to the editor reveals many things about the function of The Giulianiad, as well as the community of guitarists, amateur and otherwise, that was active in London after Giuliani’s death. Clearly, players like Giuliani and Sor created a divide between styles of guitar playing, with higher artistic value associated with solo playing while more accompanimental styles were viewed as lesser styles. In the absence of a guitar conservatory—something that N. also alludes to in his letter—The Giulianiad takes on the responsibility of properly educating its readers on how to play in a manner that is appropriate for the instrument, a manner that will continue to promote the style of Giuliani and his contemporaries.

The Giulianiad also provides a glimpse into the function of the guitar in the domestic sphere which, though incredibly significant to the popularity of the instrument in the early nineteenth century, is absent from the discourse surrounding Giuliani at the time. Perhaps because of his status as a professional player and public figure, accounts of Giuliani’s playing do not mention the popularity of the guitar in domestic settings, nor do they give any indication of the popularity of the guitar amongst female players. The Giulianiad, however, provides its readers with brief, non-specific descriptions of female players and their interactions with the guitar. The first issue of the magazine, for example, features “Stanzas ‘To My Guitar’”, a poem written by one of the magazine’s readers, identified only as “a lady”: Companion of the exiled brave! Beloved, alike in peace or war, The peasant wakes thee, and the slave, Weeps fondly o’er his mute Guitar…

When e’er the festive song I wake, Forgetting that e’en mirth may mar Its own enjoyment—should I break One feeling string, my own Guitar—

I’ll take the moral to my breast, Nor even strain a chord so far As wound a heart, which rudely prest Would break, like thine, my sweet Guitar.4

4 “Stanzas ‘To My Guitar’,” The Giulianiad vol. 1 no. 1 (January 1833): 6.

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The language used in the small glimpses of the domestic life of the guitar as exemplified by “Stanzas ‘To My Guitar’” suggests that the guitar was a prominent aspect of private music making for female players.

Observations on the suitability of female players to the physical demands of the instrument also feature prominently in one author’s essay, “On Public Performances on the Guitar.” Despite the title of the essay, the writer focuses on a key component of the private life of the guitar when he discusses his thoughts on how women’s hands and emotional sensibilities are well suited to the instrument and vice versa:

The instrument is so obedient to the expression of their [women’s] feelings,--it echoes their little griefs, calm tranquility, and noble elevated thoughts with such nice precision, that it would seem to be a natural appendage of their own fair bosoms.5

This writer’s observations reveal a gendered discourse related to the guitar which was omitted from written accounts of the public life of the instrument. While contemporary accounts of Giuliani’s playing comment on his tone, execution, and inimitable mastery of the guitar, this writer’s description of female players—none of whom he names specifically—focuses instead on the how women’s slender fingers are better suited to the fretboard of the guitar than the larger hands of men. Similarly, he believes that the guitar is well suited to expressing the ‘little griefs’ and seemingly frivolous emotions of women, so much so that the instrument appears to be a natural means of musical expression for them. While the author does not comment on the type of repertoire favoured by female players, it is likely––given the popularity of songs with guitar accompaniment in the domestic sphere––that the more accompanimental style of playing was most commonly associated with the female players he describes. The author’s observations, despite their problematically gendered language, bring into focus the significance of the guitar for women’s domestic music making. However, despite the easy association of female players with accompanimental styles of playing, the brief allusions to female players in The Giulianiad calls into question how engaged women were with the solo tradition of playing for which the magazine was claiming to be an advocate. Giuliani, after all, had both women patrons and pupils in Vienna, and domestic music-making spheres were vital in his career. The study of Giuliani’s music and the influence of his playing style on domestic music making could be enriched by a

5 “On Public Performances on the Guitar,” The Giulianiad, vol. 1 no. 4 (April 1833), 40.

168 study of how female players engaged with soloistic styles of guitar playing in their homes. The content of The Giulianiad serves to highlight the nature of Giuliani’s reception outside of Vienna, while giving voice to some of the people who consumed his music. Most importantly, The Giulianiad demonstrates that the guitar—despite its mixed reception in the public music sphere—did indeed have its share of ardent supporters, many of whom found a beloved instrument in the seemingly dull-spirited, ribbon-adorned guitar.

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