Among the many manuscripts of Alessandro Scarlatti in the Santini-Bibliothek in Muenster is a serenata entitled Clori, Dorino e Amore. The work was performed on 1 May 1702 at the Palazzo Reale in Naples. On its title page is the following information: “Cantata in Napoli alla presenza di Filippo V Re delle Spagne.” Although the visit of the King had been planned for some time, the Neapolitans did not believe that he would come at all, either due to the King’s ill health and political instability or his reluctance on some other grounds. In any event, Filippo V arrived on 18 April in the port of Naples and the serenata was duly performed in his honor. There are hints in the score that the work changed shape dramatically upon the news that a head of state was to be present at the performance. Various devices indicate that it underwent a sudden change of structure during the process of composition: for example, the unaccompanied vocal ending (used often in smaller, dramatic serenatas), as well as the political encomium and the presence of a chorus (both used in larger, more overt displays of power). Evidence of pressure on the composer during the compositional process is the incorporation of material from what is presumably an earlier chamber work: the duet Clori e Mirtillo. Here the name of the character Dorino is modified to Dorillo. The examination of Clori, Dorino e Amore will lead to a discussion of the differences between a political serenata and a celebratory serenata devised for bourgeois consumption.
Turin was the capital of one of the strongest Italian states in the eighteenth century. Its Teatro Regio was the center for music and culture in the city, and the main venue through which its public took part in a new trend in opera sweeping the continent starting early in the century: exoticism. Inspired by French opera, exotic opere serie featured distant and remote locales, fanciful costumes, and bizarre scene designs and stage effects. Turin was particularly hospitable to this type of innovation: it had long-standing cultural and political ties with France and a large and technically sophisticated theater, the administration of which was not only open to innovation but able to invest the large sums necessary to produce the lavish spectacle that exoticism entailed. The Teatro Regio led the way among Italian theaters in producing exotic operas reflecting the revolutionary principles Francesco Algarotti set forth in his Saggio sopra l’opera in musica, widely read and influential throughout Europe. Drawing on primary source material for operatic production, this study explores aspects of exoticism in Turin’s operas by Jommelli, Traetta, and other leading composers from the 1740s through the 1780s. Majo’s Motezuma (1765), among the most widely exported of all Turinese librettos and the centerpiece of the study, illuminates the reasons behind exoticism’s popularity. Producing exotic opera was not only good business for Turin’s theater, it helped Turin establish itself as a city worthy of inclusion in an ever-expanding Europe, thereby giving the Savoyard state legitimacy withina broader, European context.
During Fall 1771 the celebrated soprano castrato Giovanni Manzoli sang in Hasse’s Ruggiero and Mozart’s Ascanio in Alba, performed in Milan in celebration of the marriage of Archduke Ferdinand and Maria Beatrice of Modena. After the performances Mozart reported to his sister that Manzoli had refused to accept payment because, having agreed to the engagement in Milan under the impression that he was to sing one opera (Ruggiero), he felt that he should now receive twice the fee to which he had originally agreed. A dossier assembled later by Manzoli in an attempt to justify his action in Milan has recently been discovered in the Archivio di Stato in Florence. Consisting of copies of correspondence between the singer and two Milanese impresarios and a lengthy statement by Manzoli himself, the dossier confirms Mozart’s account of the affair, at the same time providing many new details. The documents corroborate Kathleen Hansell’s view that “the idea of a second theatrical entertainment [Ascanio in Alba] came as an afterthought, about two months after the court requested Hasse’s services and negotiations with the singers had begun.” They increase our knowledge of the process by which singers were engaged for the wedding festivities, help to explain the complex relations that linked the Milanese court, the impresarios who managed the court theater, and the musicians who performed in it, and shed new light on Manzoli’s personality.
It is impossible to identify a clearer attempt to press Mozart’s music into the service of a political agenda than in the commission to compose the opera La clemenza di Tito for the coronation of Holy Roman Emperor Leopold II as King of Bohemia in Prague in 1791. This production is typically portrayed as a vehicle to flatter Leopold for the “enlightened” political policies he pursued in territories such as Tuscany and the Austrian Netherlands, as if Leopold’s policies outside of Bohemia were more meaningful to the original spectators in Prague than his governance of Bohemia itself. Completely unrecognized in the musicological literature is the extent of the political and social turmoil in Prague and the Bohemian lands in the early 1790’s engendered by the emperor Joseph II, Leopold’s predecessor as King of Bohemia. Joseph’s attempts to increase taxation on the Bohemian nobles and release their serfs from the obligation of forced labor precipitated a near revolt against Hapsburg rule. In response, Leopold II rescinded the Josephine tax measures and forced thousands of Bohemian serfs freed by Joseph back into servitude. To ratify this settlement, the Bohemian nobles sponsored coronation ceremonies in Leopold’s honor and selected the libretto for the coronation opera. The fee Mozart was paid for his opera came directly from funds supplied by the nobles. Mozart’s participation in this affair calls into question his supposed commitment to Enlightenment philosophy as well as the expression of Enlightenment ideals in his musical works.
The Early String Quartet fills a conspicuous gap in the published chamber music repertory. Very few string quartets from the period 1760–1830 apart from those of Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert are available in reliable modern editions, yet there was hardly a composer of the era who did not contribute to the genre. In fact, mastering the string quartet was for a young musician almost a prerequisite for recognition as a serious composer. This is shown by the large number of composers who chose to publish a set of string quartets as their Opus 1. The presentation will review the development of the series so far, including the volumes already available, will describe forthcoming volumes already under contract or currently being considered and will briefly address source and editorial issues.
Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, and into the 1980s, research on the eighteenth-century symphony flourished. Scholars like Jan LaRue, Eugene Wolf, Bathia Churgin, and others explored and analyzed forgotten repertoires, reinterpreted received wisdom, and documented the vast amount of music that remained to be discussed and analyzed. During the last two decades, interest in the eighteenth-century symphony as a research topic has tapered off, leaving many areas and composers unexplored and much significant scholarship buried in unpublished dissertations. Though signs of a renaissance have begun to appear (e.g., Richard Will’s book on characteristic symphonies), there is still no volume that attempts to provide a comprehensive contextual and analytical study of the multiplicity of styles and approaches that characterize symphonic composition in the eighteenth century. This project is a collaborative effort that will involve approximately twenty scholars. It will feature analytical essays written by specialists on selected composers, overviews of geographical regions, and an in-depth discussion of issues such as reception, distribution, and performance contexts. We will pay particular attention to composers and regions that have been marginalized in traditional chronologies and in volumes like Stephan Kunze’s Die Sinfonie im 18ten Jahrhundert, for example, German composers besides the Bachs and the Mannheimers, late-eighteenth-century Italians, etc. In doing so we hope to de-linearize the story of the early symphony and open further avenues for exploration and study.
Discussions of so-called Classical style have often regarded church music of the late eighteenth century as problematic, at times characterizing it in a markedly negative fashion. Yet musicians of the period thought highly of contemporary church compositions and evidently attached greater prestige to sacred genres than to those instrumental genres now considered paradigmatic of the Classical style, such as symphony and string quartet. This situation reflects another historiographical difficulty of the notion of Classicism. In this paper I explore the problem of the modern reception of late eighteenth-century church music and attempt to discern the values that promoted the favored place of this music. I shall focus upon “old” elements of musical style such as counterpoint and choral textures and discuss the ways in which their supposed antiquity corresponded to ideals of piety, craftsmanship, and universal principle. Analyses of a cappella sacred works by Albrechtsberger and Mozart will serve to illustrate both the continued appreciation of an earlier stylistic idiom and the synthesis of this idiom with modern musical language. This synthesis epitomizes a dialectic of old and new, the recognition of which represents a prerequisite to a balanced assessment of late eighteenth-century sacred music and indeed of Classical style asa whole. The persistence of a retrospective tendency underscores the aspect of continuity with the past in music of the Classical period. It provides a further indication of the richness of a pluralistic musical culture in which a distinctive set of attitudes motivated a deep respect for church music.
When Mozart arrived in Milan in 1770 with his father, he discovered a city of extraordinary contrasts. The Ambrosian Rite of the Milanese church created an atmosphere of extreme conservative musical currents in sacred music that existed side-by-side with some of the most progressive trends in operatic music taking place in the shadow of the Cathedral. Four newly-discovered documents from archives in Vienna and Milan, including two diaries describing eyewitness accounts, provide a rich view into the world of sacred music at the time of Mozart’s visits to Milan (1770–1773). Clues found in three of the documents make it possible to identify two sites in Milan that Mozart was not previously known to have visited (the churches of Santa Maria della Passione and Sant’Ambrogio) and to establish a repertory of sacred music that Mozart most likely heard while he was in Milan, including works by Giovanni Andrea Fioroni and Giovanni Battista Sammartini. The identification of new models of sacred music available to Mozart at the time of the composition of his congenial masterwork, “Exsultate, jubilate,” invites speculation as to whether or not he used them as a stylistic resource. The evidence of the manuscripts suggests that although Mozart was influenced by the chamber music and operatic works he encountered in Italy, the conservative traditions of Ambrosian sacred music had little impact on his style.
In 1754 Francesca Jacobina, Countess Pollaimb, abbess of the convent of St. Jacob in Vienna, published a small book entitled Andächtige geistliche Gebett, Hymni, Collecten und Psalmen mit deren beygefügten Thonen, so in den Jungfrauen-Closter St. Jacob … gebettet und gesungen werden. The book, which includes music for psalm tones, magnificats, and 34 hymns, provides a look at the musical and spiritual life of a Viennese convent in the mid-18th century. The book contains a limited repertory of hymns, with an even smaller repertory of texts. Each hymn is provided with a commentary in German, suggesting that the nuns were not proficient in Latin. The hymn melodies are mostly well-known, but in a more tonal and less complex style than earlier versions. The text “Iam lucis orto sidere,” from the office of Prime, is set to thirteen different melodies; these hymns are assigned to the feast days with which the melodies were associated. Thus, the tune carries the meaning rather than the text. The most complex melodies are assigned to the office of Vespers, the most musically important of the daily hours; the nuns made Vespers festive by performing a wider variety of music. The book was possibly an educational tool, designed to help new initiates join in the services of the convent community as soon as possible. It may represent an attempt to ward off criticism of the convent for failing to fulfill what Maria Theresia considered the most important role of such institutions—the education of young women.
The quarrel between François Raguenet and Jean-Laurent Lecerf de la Viéville in 1702-1706 initiated a century of music aesthetic debates in France. This first controversy centered on the comparison of the relative merits of Italian and French operatic traditions. Yet it was through instrumental music, rather than opera that new aesthetic standards spread to France. The flood of Italian sonatas that overwhelmed Paris at the turn of the eighteenth century divided the intellectual circles between advocates of the naturalness of French music, and champions of the passionate and virtuosic Italian instrumental music. This paper examines, in the light of these polemics, the activity of the first Italian performers who arrived in Paris from Naples at the turn of the eighteenth century — Michele Mascitti, Antonio Guido, and Giovanni Antonio Piani — and their crucial role in the dissemination of Italian instrumental music in France. Their successful careers, sponsored by influential members of the new aristocracy, illustrate the socio-political changes that had made Paris the center of intellectual life; indeed, arbiter of the aesthetic taste was no longer the court of Louis XIV, but the Parisian public. These Neapolitan performers were often the main attraction of the musical soirees organized by wealthy financiers. I argue that the distinctive performance style of these virtuosi influenced the reception of Italian music in France; had a profound impact on the development of the French instrumental tradition; and played a critical part in the foundation of a new aesthetic sensibility.
Antonio Vivaldi is nowadays considered “the most original and influential Italian composer of his generation” (Michael Talbot). However, an exploration of the reception history of Vivaldi’s works, the vicissitudes of his life and the circumstances of his enigmatic death compared with the life and service of other Italian musicians of the period, reveals a paradox. It combines the gradual demise of his fame, resulting in the poignant oblivion to which he was relegated in his native Venice and other Italian centers (only two reports on Vivaldi, by Goldoni and Gianelli, exist in Italian literature of the time); the castigation of his deficient harmonic practices that became common in writings by British men of letters (Hawkins, Avison, Hawes and Burney) and, in contrast, the all-embracing adoption of his style by German musicians (J. S. Bach, Pisendel, Heinichen, Mattheson, Scheibe, Quantz, Riepel, Hiller and Koch), whose activity eventually led to the crystallization of the functional concept of harmonic tonality and of the classical style. It would be reasonable to suggest then that the apparent deviation of Vivaldi’s style from the mainstream would be appropriately reassessed in the late eighteenth century, but in reality, as is known, the situation was quite the reverse. I argue that, together with other parameters of Vivaldi’s life and creative activity (his low social status, lack of professional training, the scandalous circumstances of his personal life and the failure of his late operatic productions), precisely the harmonic idiom and the arrangement of tonal space in Vivaldi's music were responsible for his dual reception and historical recognition. A review of the reception history of Vivaldi's works leads me to certain insights into more general processes concerning the stylistic developments and diffusion of ideas in eighteenth century Western culture.
The famous edition of Corelli’s opus 5 violin sonatas, with slow movements ornamented “as [Corelli] played them” was published around 1710 by Roger in Amsterdam, and was copied and issued by Walsh and Hare in London in 1711. Less well known are two sonatas adapted for recorder from Corelli’s opus 5 that were published by Walsh and Hare around 1707 “illustrated throughout with proper graces by an imminent master,” probably the London recorder virtuoso James Paisible. Analysis of these sets of embellishments reveals them to be stylistically consistent. It was the practice of Walsh and Hare to publish works of musicians active in London, and ornamental clusters similar to those in the Corellian sets are also found in violin sonatas by Visconti (Gasparini) published in 1703, and Pepusch published in 1707. Similar graces appear in William Babell’s popular ornamented keyboard excerpts from the operas of Handel and others published between 1709 and 1717, as well as in his twenty-four sonatas for violin or oboe “with proper graces adapted to each adagio by the author,” published posthumously in 1725. Moreover, archival evidence shows close ties among these London musicians. Neil Zaslaw has written perceptively on the many and varied extant graced versions of Corelli’s sonatas, but the correlation between improvisational styles in this London circle suggests that an older Corellian improvisational style continued to persevere along side those of a later generation of composer-performers.
Domenico Scarlatti spent forty years as harpsichord master to María Bárbara, princess of Portugal and queen of Spain. His more than 500 keyboard sonatas were shaped by a highly unusual court context, and were intended expressly for private consumption by his royal patron—a sort of eighteenth-century musica secreta. Scarlatti never traveled to England, yet he attained cult status there. One measure of his fame is the reaction to the 1738 London publication of Scarlatti’s Essercizi per Gravicembalo. Within five years, these thirty sonatas had been re-engraved twice, arranged for strings, and raided by Handel. According to Burney, London keyboardists made their reputations performing Scarlatti’s sonatas, simultaneously matching the absent virtuoso and enhancing his mystique. Far from being an obscure figure on the fringes of European musical life, Scarlatti was a significant, if sometimes controversial, pillar of the Italian presence in England. His stature as a composer for the keyboard can be compared to that of Corelli in the realm of string music for public concerts and amateur music-making. My documentary, comparative, and analytical study of the reception of the Essercizi provides a case study in the market-driven reconfiguration of music originally intended for private use and a sounding board for English debates about musical style in general. Seeing Scarlatti through the eyes of the English musical scene moves this elusive figure of out courtly isolation and into the thick of the eighteenth-century musical marketplace.
Although the Philharmonic Society was founded in London only in 1813, it quickly built up an extensive library of scores and parts which included a considerable amount of material dating from the previous century. The set of scores of Haydn’s “London” symphonies—including two autographs—now established as formerly belonging to Salomon, is a well-known instance. The Philharmonic Library also includes four autograph scores of symphonies by Ignaz Pleyel, which have been variously dated to between 1792 and 1801. It can be shown from the minutes of the Society that these scores were a gift from William Dance in 1835. Dance had been the principal keyboard player at the Professional Concerts during Pleyel’s sojourn in London, when he was featured in an attempt to rival the success Haydn enjoyed at Salomon’s concerts. Until now it has not been known which of Pleyel’s works were written for London. The evidence adduced here, combined with paper studies and with the detailed analysis of the programmes and artists at the Professional Concert made by Simon McVeigh, points to the identification of these four works as Pleyel’s “London” symphonies. Though the manuscripts were retained in the Philharmonic Library they were rejected for performance by the Society. A work by Pleyel had been included in their opening season, but he was never again represented at a Philharmonic concert.
The Packard Humanities Institute (Los Altos, CA) is publishing the first critical edition of the complete works of C. P. E. Bach, the most influential son of J. S. Bach, and a composer whose career spanned the transition from the late Baroque to the Classical periods. C. P. E. Bach composed music in all principal genres of the eighteenth century except opera: although he is known primarily for his keyboard music—including at least 150 sonatas and 50 concertos—he also wrote nearly 300 songs, three oratorios, dozens of cantatas and Passions, as well as much chamber music. Until the recovery of the archive of the Berlin Sing-Akademie in the Ukraine in 1999, Bach’s Hamburg church music was mostly inaccessible and virtually unknown. For the presentation, we will discuss the organization of the edition and its particular editorial and source problems, using illustrations from forthcoming volumes and recent recordings by Ton Koopman and Tom Beghin that are based on them.
The Neapolitan, Gian Francesco de Majo (1732–1770) was a respected and sought-after Italian opera and church-music composer. He received numerous commissions and was included in the circle of famous musicians such as Metastasio, Farinelli, and Johann Christian Bach. In 1770 the fourteen-year-old Mozart heard Majo’s church music in Naples and wrote back to his sister, Nannerl, that he had been to a church to hear some of the composer’s music. He told her that it was “a most beautiful music” (una bellißima Musica). Majo left us over 70 sacred works. His compositions possess exquisite phrasing, beautiful melodies, and an engaging use of chromaticism. Even as early as 1941, Paul Henry Lang noted that it was Majo’s “sensuous” chromaticism that attracted the young Mozart. (Music in Western Civilization, p. 655). This project’s first phase is almost completed with the editing of his eleven multi-movement Salve Reginas for soprano and orchestra. The project will then proceed with the editing of his solo motets, his four choral Masses and three Dixit Dominus. The final project will include written critical commentaries, the transcribed musical works, and electronic sound-files of the pieces for use in study. My goal in the undertaking of this project is to contribute one of the necessary pieces of research needed as a basis for arriving at the larger picture of sacred music in the eighteenth century and to create an availability of Majo’s works, giving us a fuller context for an understanding of the better-known classical masters.
The publication of the third and fourth volumes of A General History of Music in 1789 marked the conclusion of Charles Burney’s major writings on music, following as it did The Present State of Music in France and Italy (1771), The Present State of Music in Germany, The Netherlands, and United Provinces (1773), and An Account of the Musical Performances … in Commemoration of Handel (1785). Now, at the age of sixty-three, he turned to other projects: notably to his Memoirs of Metastasio, published in 1796, his poem ‘Astronomy, an Historical and Didactic Poem’, and in time to contributing articles on music to Abraham Rees’s Cyclopedia. Burney’s letters of the period, to a wide range of correspondents both within and outside his family, are an invaluable source of information on all his activities, musical and non-musical. This paper explores their musical content and their importance to the better understanding both of Burney’s life and of musical life in London and elsewhere in the 1790s.
Accounts of musical wit and humor in the eighteenth century often begin and end with Mozart’s Ein musikalischer Späß and the quartets and symphonies of Joseph Haydn, the implication being that such sophisticated comic expression was possible only within the so-called Viennese Classical style. Indeed, the literary theories of wit and humor that began appearing around mid-century provide us with a useful theoretical framework for appreciating Haydn’s and Mozart’s musical jokes. Yet some early eighteenth-century repertories comically disconfirm listeners’ expectations through similar strategies, none more so than the ouverture-suites of Telemann, whose “lively wit and jovial disposition” became legendary soon after his death. In this paper, I consider the ways in which Telemann’s burlesque suite movements make their jesting effect through exaggerated gestures and mixtures of socially encoded high and low styles, then examine works that parody established styles and genres. Among the latter are the ingenious ouverture to La Bizarre, in which only some of the instruments agree to play along with convention, and the Ouverture Burlesque di Quixotte, a musical parody that mirrors the satirical aspect of Cervantes’ novel. I conclude by demonstrating that the Ouverture, jointes d’une Suite tragi-comique, which illustrates three ailments (gout, hypochondria, and vainglory) and their remedies, satirizes the German public’s fascination with enlightened medicine during the 1750s and 1760s. In fact, much suggests that Telemann intended his suite as a musical pendant to popular medical journals such as Der Arzt (1759–64) and Der Hypochondrist (1762), and to several satirical plays of the time.
When Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach became Cantor in Hamburg in 1768 he was faced with a long musical tradition shaped by his predecessor Georg Philipp Telemann. One aspect of this tradition was the compositions for the annual meeting of the captains of the militia; Telemann composed several oratorios and serenades for this occasion. Even though Bach composed only two of these “Bürgerkapitänsmusiken,” they are very instructive pieces, showing the relationship between music, culture, and politics in late-eighteenth-century Hamburg. The northern German town was—especially in the first half of the eighteenth century—a center of political discourse. Much earlier than in other regions of Germany, questions of democracy, the relationship between government and individual, and the possibilities of a “patriotic education” were discussed. These questions also shaped the librettos of the “Bürgerkapitänsmusiken” in the times of Telemann and Bach. It is especially the question of patriotism and of patriotic behavior that shapes these compositions by C. P. E. Bach. The paper will compare the librettos, written by Christian Wilhelm Alers, to literary and political texts written in Hamburg around 1780, and will show in how far Bach tries to enact an ideal political community in his oratorios and serenades.
The sinfonias of Gottlob Harrer (1703–1755), written for his patron, Count Brühl, are among the earliest concert sinfonias performed, and provide a window into the social lives of Dresden’s upper class. While the three branches of the Hofkapelle, especially the operas of Hasse in the third and fourth decades of the century, were the focus of Dresden’s musical life and most subsequent scholarship, Harrer’s extant sinfonias, dated from 1731-1747, have not received the same attention. Harrer’s orchestral works are important in recognizing one way the sinfonia functioned within a specific social milieu during its formative stages. Harrer wrote many works for his patron’s personal enjoyment, but performances of others for social gatherings at Brühl’s palace in Dresden, or at royal residences outside Dresden, meant Harrer’s works were heard by the highest levels of Dresden society. Topical references in several titles indicate his sinfonias were individual works written for specific people and social occasions in the life of Dresden society. Their formal designs, galant stylistic elements, and use of borrowed melodic material reflect that society and its musical preferences. Harrer’s use of topoi in the sinfonias, including dance, march, and hunt allusions, reveal how particular aspects of social activities enjoyed by Harrer’s patron helped shape style traits in several particular works. An examination of the topical allusions in Harrer’s works solidifies their connection to the cultural setting for which he wrote them, and therefore better defines the genre of the concert sinfonia of the time.
An inseparable part of the Royal Opera, the Royal Ballet was considered a crucial arm of the Royal Spectacles in Gustavian Opera. Created after the omnipresent French model, dance was intended from the beginning in 1772 to complement and support the main stage operas, with the occasional performance on its own for special occasions. In the beginning, the leadership of the ballet was entrusted to Louis Gallodier, who was to create the position of Maitre de ballet from 1772 until his death in 1803. Gallodier, born in France and a student under the masters of the Royal Opera in Paris, arrived in Sweden in 1758 as part of the French troupe employed by Lovisa Ulrika. He survived the dismissal of the French troupe by Gustav III in 1772, and indeed was given the commission by the King not only to pull together the corps de ballet, but to establish a Royal School of Ballet. Given that the latest artistic developments, especially the latest dance reforms of Noverre, were common knowledge and discussed frequently among the Stockholm intelligentsia, it is not surprising that Gallodier soon came to realize his own short-comings as a choreographer, and indeed as early as 1776 began earnestly seeking someone else to take on the mundane choreographic duties, as he devoted himself to dancing and more administrative roles. This was Jean Marcadet, a former child dance prodigy who had received his first honors in the famous children’s ballet supported by Madame Pompadour. Since Gustav’s intent was to have Stockholm supercede (or rival) Paris as a cultural Mecca, merely bringing in someone familiar with the latest ballet techniques by Noverre was probably deemed insufficient, and although Marcadet was certainly a star dancer famous for his creative steps and energy, the creation of choreography demonstrating innovative dance technique required something better. This came in 1781 with the arrival of the Bournonville family (Antoine and two sisters) in Sweden. His legacy was a style of dancing that was characterized by fluidity and grace, dramatic gesture and flexibility, all hallmarks of the Romantic ballet that were carried on by his son August Bournonville and protégée Maria Taglioni, both of whom have continued the long direct line of descent up to the present Utah Ballet. Here, the beginning was that age-old piece, Les Meuniers, which had once sparked the brief dramatic ballet revival in Gustavian Stockholm.