We use cookies to distinguish you from other users and to provide you with a better experience on our websites. Close this message to accept cookies or find out how to manage your cookie settings.
To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure no-reply@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
In the history of Western music, no single figure has been as closely tied to the Enlightenment as Beethoven: he is regarded as the composer who embodies ideals such as freedom and humanism that many celebrate as the Enlightenment's legacy. This view, however, rests on a very narrow conception of the Enlightenment that aggressively stresses secularism and political liberalism. More recent historical research has shown that the Enlightenment's outlook on political and religious issues was more diverse and nuanced than traditional accounts have depicted it. The essays in this volume consider how new ways of thinking about the Enlightenment can alter the way we understand Beethoven and his music. By rethinking Beethoven and the Enlightenment, this book questions the Beethoven we know in both the popular and scholarly imagination and redefines the role the composer plays in the history of Western music.
Illuminating the shared world of Clara and Robert Schumann, this volume takes a renewed look at the Schumanns and reconsiders them both as individual artists and as a couple who each charted their trajectories with the other in mind. It focuses on key aspects of their artistic and cultural environments amid the creative and political ferment of nineteenth-century Germany and traces their critical reception from their own time to the present day. The topics range from personal and professional relationships to their socio-cultural environment and their influence on subsequent generations of musicians, giving fresh perspectives on established themes and introducing new material and sources particularly in relation to Clara. The book broadens and re-evaluates existing understandings of the Schumanns and makes scholarship currently better known in the German-speaking sphere accessible to English-language readers.
Brimming with fresh insights, this volume offers a comprehensive overview of the personal, cultural, intellectual, professional, political and religious contexts in which immensely gifted brother and sister Fanny Hensel (née Mendelssohn) and Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy lived and worked. Based on the latest research, it explores nineteenth-century musical culture from different yet complementary perspectives, including gender roles, private vs public music-making, cultural institutions, and reception history. Thematically organised, concise chapters cover a broad range of topics from family, friends and colleagues, to poetry, art and aesthetics, foreign travel, celebrity and legacy. With contributions from a host of Mendelssohn and Hensel experts as well as leading scholars from disciplines beyond musicology it sheds new light on the environments in which the Mendelssohns moved, promoting a deeper understanding their music.
The twenty-first century has witnessed a surge of scholarly interest in the French art song, or mélodie, with a flood of new books, articles, and editions. This Companion draws on the best of this new research, with chapters by world-renowned scholars and performers examining French art song through the practicality of performance, both pianistic and vocal. The book surveys the repertory chronologically from the 1820s into the 1950s, covering all the central composers (Berlioz, Gounod, Fauré, Debussy, Duparc, Chausson, Ravel, Poulenc, Messiaen, and many more). It includes chapters on the role of women in the creation, performance, and diffusion of French song; the analysis of French prosody and poetic forms; the position of the mélodie in French literary history; and the interpretation of mélodie in performance. Scholars, students, performers, and music lovers will find thorough and up-to-date resources to enable them to explore this crucial yet understudied song repertory.
As well as being a virtuoso pianist, Louise Farrenc became the first woman to hold a permanent position as Professor at the Paris Conservatoire while continuing to compose symphonic and chamber music. This handbook introduces readers to Farrenc and her contemporaries with a focus on professional women musicians in nineteenth-century Paris. Farrenc's music was much admired by her contemporaries including Robert Schumann and Hector Berlioz. The acclaimed Nonet (1849) incorporated playful dialogue within the ensemble, virtuosic display, and an artful balance of newer and older compositional methods, garnering critical and artistic success and official recognition for the composer. Its performance history shows how musicians managed the logistics of professional life: forming and sustaining relationships, organizing concerts and tours, and promoting their work in the musical press. The book's nuanced analytical approach and historical insights will allow students, performers and listeners a fresh appreciation of Farrenc's work.
Donizetti's opera, based on Walter Scott's novel, is a staple of the bel canto operatic repertoire and famed above all for its vocally challenging and frequently reinterpreted 'mad scene' that precedes the lead character's death. This handbook examines the impact Lucia has had on opera and investigates why, of all of Donizetti's seventy operas, this particular work has inspired so much enthusiastic interest among scholars, directors and singers. A key feature is the sheer mutability of the character Lucia as she transforms from a lyric bel canto figure to a highly charged coloratura femme fatale, fascinating not just to opera historians but also to those working on sound studies, literary theories of horror and the gothic, the science of the mind, gender theory and feminist thought. The book places Lucia within the larger contexts of its time, while underlining the opera's central dramatic elements that resonate in the repertoire today.
Interweaving a social history of string playing with a collective biography of its participants, this book identifies and maps the rapid nationwide development of activities around the violin family in Britain from the 1870s to about 1930. Highlighting the spread of string playing among thousands of people previously excluded from taking up a stringed instrument, it shows how an infrastructure for violin culture coalesced through an expanding violin trade, influential educational initiatives, growing concert life, new string repertoire, and the nascent entertainment and catering industries. Christina Bashford draws a freshly broad picture of string playing and its popularity, emphasizing grassroots activities, amateurs' pursuits, and everyday work in the profession's underbelly—an approach that allows many long-ignored lives to be recognized and untold stories heard. The book also explores the allure of stringed instruments, especially the violin, in Britain, analyzing and contextualizing how the instruments and their players, makers, and collectors were depicted and understood.
Although Adolphe Sax’s serpentine invention hailed from Belgium, and then France, saxophones today are widely perceived as symbols of United States-led popular modernity. This image’s strength occludes a largely unknown antipodean precursor: the instrument debuted in British colonial Australia before being first heard across the Atlantic. This article foregrounds the goldrush-era Australian introduction of an instrument otherwise known as a ‘turkophone’, by enigmatic French musician Charles Jean-Baptiste Soualle, known in his orientalist stage persona as ‘Ali Ben Sou Alle’, from December 1852 to July 1855.
This article establishes the European origins of Soualle’s act and examines its effusive Australian reception through a historical musicology lens, before discussing the cultural dynamics key to this episode’s geographic context. While a Saidian, Orientalism-inspired critique sheds some light on the appeal of ‘Ali Ben Sou Alle’ to Australian audiences, Soualle’s local success was perhaps most notably underwritten by geopolitical events. For example, the 1853 outbreak of the Crimean War, which pitted the allied imperial French, British, and Ottoman powers against Tsarist Russia, challenged a nascent Australia’s sense of itself and place in the world, and provided Soualle an opportune, sympathetic platform from which to compose and perform. Remarkably, given characterizations the instrument signified in the Jazz Age decades hence, Soualle’s saxophone also embodied notions of freedom for its mid-nineteenth-century Australian audiences.
This episode, and its thematic resonances, offers insights into histories of touring musicians, understandings of music and coloniality, musical globalism, and the saxophone’s symbolic malleability prior to its rise to worldwide prominence.
Performers have enacted Beethoven in ways that disclose overt similarities in the ways through which they conceptualize both the composer’s music, and their own ambitions in performing it. This article looks at the pianist Anton Rubinstein (1829–1894) who became known as ‘Van II’ not for his compositions but rather his performances. The focus the late nineteenth-century demand for autobiographic readings, and their blurring of boundaries between fact and fiction, sets the scene for Rubinstein’s role in the creation of a Russian obsession with the performance of Beethoven’s piano works. Rubinstein’s fame for being a ‘son born of Beethoven’ continued well beyond his death, and set a precedent for other pianists to look to his Beethoven legacy to fashion themselves as what Stefaniak has termed ‘revelatory interpreters’ of the composer. The resulting Beethoven–Rubinstein synthesis resulted in a counterpart obsession that peaked in the late-Soviet landscape of the mid-twentieth century. The article turns to the case of Heinrich Neuhaus (1888–1964) to give a sense of how this active myth-making reflected itself in the construction of a performance narrative by a pianist who had never seen or heard Rubinstein but who felt compelled to enact the language, metaphors, and physical trope of the Beethoven-Rubinstein synthesis. It suggests how, in Neuhaus’s case, enacting the Beethoven–Rubinstein synthesis perhaps underpinned aspects of his own pianism (such as the concept of intonirovaniye (a way of intoning sound) as a manifestation of revelatory interpretation) in Beethoven’s Piano Sonata in A-flat major Opus 110.
This article focuses on the Italian inventor, telephone pioneer and opera house technician Antonio Meucci (1808–1889), exploring the shifting relationships between Meucci’s experiments and his operatic connections across his transatlantic career. Meucci first developed an acoustic telephone while working at Florence’s Teatro della Pergola, before discovering the transmission of sound via electricity during his tenure as chief machinist at Havana’s Teatro Tacón in the 1840s. These experiments were further refined after his relocation to New York, where he continued to be part of a network of Italian musicians, thinkers, journalists and scientific practitioners while seeking to patent his invention. Feted among the Italian diasporic community in the USA – both for his technological innovations and for his close relationship with Italian revolutionary Giuseppe Garibaldi – at the time of his death Meucci was nonetheless embroiled in a lengthy legal case against Alexander Graham Bell over the primacy of the telephone’s invention, a dispute not fully resolved until the twenty-first century. This article accordingly unfolds in three main parts, focusing in turn on Florence, Havana and New York. Meucci’s experiments – and his complex emigrant environment – collectively highlight the Italian opera house as a global and multidimensional site of technological and sonic innovation, during a period when the telephone gradually moved from conceptual fantasy to material reality. At the same time, Meucci’s career can challenge direct links between Italian sonic environments and Italy itself. Ultimately, I argue, the complex and changing relationships between opera and the telephone invite more nuanced approaches to histories of music and technology, while demonstrating the centrality of the Italian opera house and its sounds – within, across, and beyond the stage – to nineteenth-century auditory cultures more broadly.
Now mostly derided as a musical vandal, the cellist Friedrich Grützmacher (1832–1903) was seen during his lifetime as a noble and serious artist, highly respected as a performer and sought-after as a teacher. His numerous and heavily annotated performing editions – and in particular his pedagogical editions of older works – represent his attempt to preserve and disseminate a style of playing that was referred to at the time as ‘classical’ (classisch or klassisch). While the concept of classic works, as it developed in the nineteenth century, has been studied in depth by Lydia Goehr, William Weber and others, the related yet distinct concept of classical musicianship is relatively unexplored. This chapter traces the cultural resonances of the term ‘classisch’ as it was used in the German-speaking press over the course of Grützmacher’s lifetime, arguing that it represents a complement or parallel to the idea of classic works, with an independent connection to Romantic Idealism and Hellenism. The chapter then examines the performance practice implications of classical musicianship through the lens of Grützmacher’s editions, with a particular focus on a disciplined sense of tempo, a grand and tranquil physical presence, and a highly nuanced use of the bow in the service of musical character. Viewing classical musicianship in this way clears Grützmacher’s editions of the charge of vandalism by challenging us to reconsider the ideal relationship between composer and performer, as well as the fundamental purpose of an edition.
This essay takes as its point of departure the so-called ‘Verdi A’, 432Hz. From the late 1860s through to the 1880s, the opera composer was intensely preoccupied with the question of tuning, weighing in several times on the matter of where A should sit. Verdi was concerned for the strain that high tunings should place on singers’ voices. He advocated on multiple occasions for global acceptance of an A well below 440, and sent Arrigo Boito to argue in favour of A=432 at the Congresso dei Musicisti Italiani, held in Milan on 16–21 June 1881. In the 1880s, Italy remained one of the only nations in Europe that had not adopted equal temperament wholesale for fixed-tone instruments; as in the case of its spoken languages during this same period, and the locations of its A, temperament varied by region, with the southern part of the peninsula clinging to meantones. This article argues that ‘Verdi tuning’ represents the end point of a number of longer shifts in the conceptualization of musical sound, particularly in the Italian context: from temperament to tuning (accordatura); from relative conceptions of musical pitch to an absolute one; from local and regional variations towards a standardized system; from an older notion of all-encompassing nature to a presumed separation between nature and culture. Tracing this history through the Italian long nineteenth century will involve concentrating on what this article calls music-adjacent sound: that is, interrogative play with musical pitch; sound experiments from musical materials and operatic voices; instrument tuning by ear; listening for overtones; legislating preferred ratios and (eventually) frequencies for musical use; and constructing a theory of music that draws together these means of sounding. Music-adjacent sound is where the conditions for music-making were and still are established. This article argues that an attention to these sonic and nearly musical moments can demonstrate how listening and the musical imagination were cultivated outside the boundaries of any work or performance.
In this article, I argue that the musical landscape in Panama during the nineteenth century was much more active, diverse and globally connected than previously observed by authors of traditionally accepted music historiography of the country. Particularly, I discuss the heightened activity in the second half of the century through primary sources concerning violinist Miguel Iturrado (d. 1879). I further argue that the violin culture fostered by Iturrado and his contemporaries became a solid platform for cultural exchange which allowed for the development of early-twentieth-century music production in Panama. I conclude that the flourishing of numerous fin-de-siècle concert violinists, as well as the advent of the violinist-composers of dance music now known as the Azuero School in the first third of twentieth-century Panama, are directly related to Iturrado’s –and his colleagues’– musical and cultural achievements.
In the nineteenth century Western art music advanced towards a peak of sonorous magnificence, perhaps reached in 1848 at Paris when Hector Berlioz conducted an ensemble of 1,022 performers. The guitar, however, continued to sound at the level of a small continuo group for an Italian opera of the 1640s. During the 1800s the guitar’s reputation was deeply affected, often for the better, by its evocation of past sonorities that the ear was prepared to relinquish but the historical imagination could not bear entirely to forgo. Various attempts were nonetheless made to strengthen the sound by external and internal changes, some of them well received in their day, but no increase in the size or depth of the guitar’s body, no change in the pattern of the internal bracing and no addition of extra strings fundamentally enlarged its scope. Not suited to the new concert halls in which provincial towns and cities invested much of their civic pride, the guitar fared no better amidst the din of the music halls either, according to the guitarist and vaudeville comedian Ernest Shand (1868–1924). The editor of Shand’s compositions finds that ‘interest in the instrument was all but gone’ by the 1890s when Shand was unable to make a living from his composing, playing and teaching.