Armonica Virtuosi
Marianne Davies
Marianne Davies was born in 1743/4; daughter of composer and flautist Richard Davies (d.1773), and elder sister of the better-known singer Cecilia Davies (“la Inglesina”). Both parents seem to have been musicians, the father—Richard (d.1773) a composer and flautist. Marianne taught singing to her younger sister Cecilia. By 1751 the family lived  in Longacre???. On April 30, 1751, at the age of seven, Marianne played a concerto by Handel on the harpsichord during her own benefit concert at Hickford’s Great Room in Brewer Street. She also sang some songs and played a concerto of her own composition on the German flute.
Some say that Franklin was Marianne’s uncle, but Franklin’s family tree shows no such relationship.
opposite the Golden Leg
Highfill (1978), 4:202
at this time there were various configurations of holes and keys on flutes, the ’German flute’ being one such configuration
Again for her benefit, on March 19, 1753, this time at the Great Room in Dean Street, Soho, Miss Davies—announced as “A Child of Nine Years Old”—played a Handel concerto on the harpsichord. About this time two pieces by her proud father were published in London, entitled:
Ye Sacred Muses now attend. A New Song. The Words by a Gentleman on hearing a little Miss perform on the Harpsichord and German Flute and Musick can charm the human heart. An Extempore Thought, on hearing the Performances of Miss Davies, a Child of Eight Years of Age, in the Great Room in Dean Street. Set . . . for the German Flute.
quoted in Highfill (1978), 4:202
The young prodigy continued to perform around London. There was another benefit concert for herself on February 28 1757, where she and her father played German flutes together, and she performed on the harpsichord. She gave another performance on April 22, 1757 where, announced as making her second appearance on any stage, she played the German flute, accompanying singer Mrs. Lampe.
Highfill (1978), 4:202
Marianne would thus appear to have set out with the intention of becoming a singer, flautist and harpsichordist. This was all changed in 1761 when she encountered Benjamin Franklin and his glass armonica. She gave the world premier performance of Franklin’s new invention in early 1762 (and thus must have had access to a completed instrument in 1761):
The celebrated glassy-chord, invented by Mr. Franklin of Philadelphia: who has greatly improved the musical glasses, and formed them into a compleat instrument to accompany the voice; capable of a thorough bass, and never out of tune. Miss Davies from London, was to perform in the month of January, several favourite airs, English, Scotch and Italian, on the Glassychord (being the only one of the Kind that has yet been produced) accompanied occasionally with the voice and the German Flute.
Announced in the Bristol Journal for January 12th, 1762. Quoted in Papers of Benjamin Franklin10:119, fn. The editors of PBF have been unable to find any copy of the Bristol Journal for the appropriate period or to determine from which London newspaper the item might have been taken.
The first performance seems to have occurred on February 18, 1762 at the Great Room in Spring Gardens, when she also sang and played the German flute. These performances lasted through March 27, and  on April 16 she did another benefit at Dean Street. In May she gave a series of concerts at the Gold Lamp in King’s Square Court, Soho, where her family now lived. Throughout the next several years she and her father gave numerous concerts in Soho, including one at Spring Gardens on July 31, 1762 before “the Cherokee kings and the two chiefs.” There were other concerts periodically at the Pillar and Gold Lamp in the Haymarket (where Ann Ford had performed in 1760) in August 1762 and from February 10 until August 13, 1763; and at the Swan and Hoop, Cornhill, from August 15 to October 7, 1763. By 1763 her younger sister Cecilia may have started performing.1 After a trip to Ireland with her family in the winter of 1763–64, Marianne resumed her performances at Spring Gardens and Cornhill in the summer of 1764.
They visited Dublin in 1764. The Davies then traveled to Paris 3 and were again in Ireland for several months. They returned to London by June 1767, when they lived at Coventry Court, Haymarket, and gave concerts throughout the summer at various music rooms.
Pohl, Mozart und Haydn in London I:61
In the summer of 1767 Mary Rich (in Grosvenor Square, London) writes to Franklin (in London) that she has just heard that Miss Davies has been performing with great applause.
Papers of Benjamin Franklin13: 548) ??? quote it
On 10 August 1767 we hear that Marianne’s “sister will sing some favourite airs from the operas of ’Artaxerxes’ and ’Caractacus”’, this being apparently the first time Cecilia had appeared in London. But prior to this the family had decided to try their luck on the Continent and had started to collect letters of introduction from the London acquaintances. These letters were found collected in a book owned by the Rackett family in London.
Matthews (1975), 150
The first eight contained in the book are from Joseph Baretti (1719–89), critic and miscellaneous writer, and are addressed to his relatives and friends in Turin and Leghorn, Genoa, Ancona, Venice, Verona, Bologna and Milan. From them we discover that “they are recommended me by my most worthy Friend Mr. Sam Johnson”. Samuel Johnson (1709– 1784) was one of England’s great literary figures—it is not known how the Davies sisters came to be acquainted with him.
The ninth to the fifteenth letters of introduction are by no less than by Johann Christian Bach (1735–1782), the ’London Bach’, son of the famous J.S. Bach and a noteworthy composer in his own right. J.C. Bach also taught composition to a very young Mozart. J.C. Bach wrote letters of introduction for the Davies to his two brothers in Germany: Karl Phillip Emmanuel Bach (1714–1788), the ’Berlin Bach’, and Wilhelm Friedman Bach (1710–1784), the ’Dresden Bach’—also noteworthy composers in their own right) and to patrons in Italy.
Throughout these letters the emphasis is laid not only on the girls’ musicianship but also on their good character and the Catholic faith. There is no doubt that they were very much helped by fellow-Catholics, and their connection with Bach, the Mozarts and Mrs. Garrick was probably primarily through meetings at Catholic chapels in London.
Armed with these letters, in the fall of 1768 the family again went to the Continent, and in Vienna ??? double check it was the introduction to Gluck (whom we met earlier as a performer on the musical glasses) which bore the most fruit, for the sisters were taken into employment by the Empress Maria Theresa and taught her daughters, among whom were three who became the queens: of France (Marie Antoinette), of Spain ??? and of Naples??? . At Vienna the Davies sisters became favorites of society and often gave performances at the Imperial court.
In Vienna also the girls met the popular composer Johann Adolf Hasse (whom we’ll consider in more detail later), who gave Cecilia singing lessons and set a cantata by Metastasio called L’Armonica for the sisters. The sisters lodged at Hasse’s house. This was perhaps the high point in the sisters’ joint career: it was performed on June 27, 1769, on the occasion of the marriage of the Archduchess Amalia to Duke Ferdinand of Parma. In honor of the bridal couple the Italian librettist Pietro Metastasio, then court poet, composed an ode in Italian which Hasse set to music for soprano with armonica accompaniment, called, appropriately enough, L’Armonica. The Davies sisters performed this composition apparently to the great satisfaction and approval of the assembled guests. Metastasio, in a letter dated 16 January 1772, described the beautiful tone of the harmonica and how Cecilia produced her voice so that it was indistinguishable from the instrument. Marianne seems to have remembered her benefactor Franklin, for a copy of the words—though unfortunately not of the score—survives among the Franklin Papers.
Pace (1958), 277
(PBF X,123):
Aah, why cannot I, too, Filomena, like you, weave with my song a sweet shackle for souls?
If today any lip casts to the breeze harsh words, it is too bold; but if it is silent on such a great day, it is no less guilty.
(Recitative:) Sister, be bold. Fit your skillful hand to the spinning crystals, and rouse their rare seductive harmony. I, too, with song shall try to imitate their amorous tenor. Who could repress applause and good wishes, now that Amalia’s languid, tenuous, plaintive tone of the new harmonic instrument give you pause. Leave to Mars his noisy trumpets, servants of his ire. More befitting to love is a sweet melody, provocative not of wrath, but of tender affections; better company it is to that calm light, the benign manner, the sweet majesty which are transfused from her fair soul over the countenance of the Royal Spouse. Although subdued, the style of our song will be pleasing to her; for the humble tone is not a sin or fault. And respect always speaks in humble tones.
(Aria:) In the season of flowers and fresh loves, pleasing is the soft breath of a light breeze. Whether it sighs among the leaves or slowly wrinkles the waves, a breeze is everywhere the companion of pleasure.
Ah perch`e col canot mio Dolce all’ame ordir catena, Perch`e mai non posso anch’io Filomena, al par di te? S’oggi all’aure un labbro spande Rozzie accenti `e troppo audace; Ma se tace in di si grande, Men colpevole mon `e. Ardir, germana: a’ tuoi sonori adatta Volubili cristalli L’esperta man: e ne risvelgia il raro Concento seduttor. Col cano anch’io Tener`o d’imitarne L’amoroso tenor. D’applausi e voti Or che la Parma e l”’istro D’Amalia e di Fernando Agli augusti imenei tuto risuona, Saria fallo il tacer. Ne te del nuovo Armonica strumento Renda dubbiiosa il lento, Il tenue, il flebil suono. Abbiasi Marte I suoi d’ire minitri Strepitosi oricalchi; ua soave Armonia, no di sdegni Ma di teneri affetti eccitrice, Piu` conviene ad amor; meglio accompagna Quel che dall’ alma bella Si trasonde sul volto All Sposa Real placido lume, Il benigno cosume, La dolce maest` a. Bench`e sommesso
Lo stil de’ nostri accenti A Lei grato sar` a; che l’umil suono Non `e colpo o difetto; E sempre in suono umil parla il rispetto. All stagion de’ fiori E de’novelli amori E grato il molle fiato ’un zeffiro leggier. O gema tra le fronde , O lento increspi l’onde; Zeffiro in ogni lato Compagno `e del piacer. (Translation in Pace (1958), 356. Original Italian in Pace (1958), 278–9)
They left Vienna in October 1770 for Italy. The Mozarts happened to be standing on the balcony of their lodgings when they saw the Davies family arriving in Milan. Leopold writing to his wife on 21 September [1771] said:
A few days ago Miss Davies arrived here and drove past our house in the mail coach. I recognized her and she saw us, for we happened to be standing on the balcony. A few hours later I went to call on her at the ’Three Kings’, which is not very far off, as I guessed that she would be staying there, since it is the most respectable inn. She, her sister, her father and her mother could hardly express their joy. I told their servant where Herr Hasse was staying and very soon his daughter appeared, who also was beside herself with delight, for they have been most cordial friends since they met in Vienna. They all asked for you at once and they send you their greetings. You will surely remember Miss Davies with her armonica?
Anderson (1938), 198
Notice he says 'you will surely remember Miss Davies with her armonica'—apparently they had seen and heard her before.
In December 1771 they went to Naples, where Cecilia was given a very prima donna role in an opera by Hasse. It seems that after this success the family returned to Rome.
Matthews (1975), 160–161
In a letter from Rome dated July 1772 to Sir Horace Mann we read:
Sir,
I have the honour of presenting to you the sisters Marianne and Cecilia Davies, your compatriots, both musical virtuosi, of whom one sings marvelously, the other plays the harmonica, an entirely new instrument, which corresponds well to its name, and which is unique to this young lady. The are making a tour of Italy in the company of their father and mother, and deserve by their abilities and their other virtues to be welcomed everywhere they go. They will certainly be well received in Tuscany if you will grant them, as I ask, the honour of your protection, of which they are worthy.. . .
Quoted and translated from French in Matthews (1975), 162
In the summer of 1772 the Davies found themselves in Florence. On August 2 the archducal court was entertained by the two ladies, “One of whom distinguished herself in a concerto performed on an instrument of crystal made in London called the Armonico[sic].” For their efforts they were rewarded with a gold snuffbox and a watch and chain.
Pace (1958), 289
By the end of 1772 the family was once again in Vienna, then returned to Italy in the spring or summer of 17731 and then back to London where Cecilia had accepted an offer to play Berenice in Sacchini’s ’Lucio Vero’ on November 20. Cecilia must have been singing with a broken heart, for their father died in December.
1778 found both the Davies sisters and Franklin in Paris. On January 29 1778 she sent Franklin this note:
I hope you will Excuse the liberty I take in troubling you with this line but being come to Paris with my Mother and Sister on account of the latter’s health, should think myself guilty of an unpardonable neglect were I not to take an opportunity of waiting on the ingenious Inventor of the Divine Armonica. My Sister continually expresses her infinite Obligations to You Sir, and as She is just at present able to go out is extremely desirous to have the pleasure of seeing you; but least we might happen to call at an inconvenient time I should Esteem it a particular favour could you let me know by the Bearer any moment tomorrow when you are at leisure, as we are very impatient to have the happiness of waiting on you. If not tomorrow, any other Day Except Saturday or Monday next.
Papers of Benjamin Franklin 25:543
Marianne has health problems, her mother is still living. Franklin seems to have specified, “dinner Sunday evening”, to which Cecilia replied the very next day:
I should have been happy to the greatest degree in the honour of Dining with you Sunday, but to my misfortune since my Sister’s late Illness she does not Dine from home; but I shall have the honour of waiting on you with my Mother and Sister Sunday afternoon if you will give us leave.
Papers of Benjamin Franklin 25:550
Cecilia’s professional life was on the rise, but as we just saw in Cecilia’s letters to Franklin, Marianne is plagued by ill health. (Another note from Cecilia dated September 24th of that year would suggest that another get-together was in the offing.)
The Davies’ situation has grown desperate. On April 26, 1783 Marianne writes from Florence a rather extraordinary letter to Franklin detailing their predicament and asking for a favor:
Dear Sir.
Notwithstanding I am at present a Being almost insensible to any Joy or Pleasure this miserable Life can afford, yet as I do still Exist, so do in me the strongest feelings of Gratitude, Respect, and Esteem, by which I must always be most sincerely attach’d to my ever dear and worthy Friend and Benefactor Doctor Franklin. . .
Indeed since I had the pleasure of seeing You last, both my Sister and I have gone thro’ a great deal of Grief and Trouble of various kinds. After having the Affliction to see our Dear Affectionate Mother suffer a long and severe Illness, we had the Misfortune to lose Her; which was a Grief almost too much for us to bear. Since that, I had a violent return of my nervous complaints which brought me so low that there were little hopes of my recovery. I was near a twelvemonth confin’d to my Room, and most part of the time to my Bed. You will easily imagine what anxiety of mind this occasion’d my poor Sister; whose greatest foible is—being too much attach’d to me. By this Illness of mine my Sister suffer’d much likewise in her Interests; for as she would not on any account quit me she was oblig’d to decline several advantageous Offers in her Theatrical Profession. Misfortunes generally follow one another. at least we find it so. A Person in whose hands my Sister and I had unluckily plac’d our Money, fail’d. so that we have as one may say to begin the World again. And to compleat our bad Luck, Death snatch’d away a Sovereign at whose Court (had I not been too giddy and fond of travelling some few Years ago) we might have been happily settled and to Whom had Fate spar’d Her to us, we might have had recourse at any time; particularly in our present lonely Situation! The Great and Good Empress Maria Teresa would I am certain have even felt pleasure in taking into her Service those Orphans whose Parents as well as themselves She had formerly graciously deign’d to Patronize in a most particular manner. But She is gone! In short we meet with nothing but Losses and Vexation. so much so that for my part I am heartily disgusted of the World.
Marianne’s “nervous complaints” which confined her to bed for almost a year, Cecilia’s career compromised by caring for Marianne, both parents and their formerly generous patrons gone, and a major financial reversal—on top of the grueling demands of an ongoing concert career—life has been hard. In spite of all these calamities, Marianne is working on reviving her armonica career:
I am destin’d to begin the World again, and that at a time when I did suppose my Career of Life was at an end. However since it must be so, I have once more got in practise of the Armonica, and make no doubt that if I could travel with it to different capital Cities and Courts as I have done before, ’twould be well worth my while: but unfortunately for me, my Situation is now so different to what it was then, that I dread undertaking to travel with that Instrument under my charge. Well I remember the difficulties and expence attending it and the perpetual fear of its being damaged at each Custom House &ca. &ca. Yet at that time I was happy in my poor Dear Father’s continual care and attention. The Protection likewise of our Dear Parents made Travelling then appear to me quite in another light. How can I now think of roving in that manner from one Country to another with only a Sister so much younger than myself? Yet something I must do. and really when I consider that I have the Prerogative (thro’ your goodness) of being the first public Performer on that Instrument; and that even yet, by all I can get information of, no one else has made much progress on it, tho’ some attempt it; these reflections give me courage. Were I but in Paris under your Protection! Sometimes I have a mind to propose to my Sister for us to set off immediately towards Paris. but the knowledge I have of what one must spend in that City for Lodging, Living, &ca. &ca. and the inevitable Expence attending such a long Journey, soon deters me from proposing to undertake it merely upon Chance.
By the way, as we shall consider later, some have blamed Marianne’s “nervous complaints” on playing the armonica. But as we can see, Marianne herself doesn’t blame them on the armonica; she’s even resuming practicing and planning on resuming her performance career. Perhaps she was simply severely depressed from the loss of both parents, all patrons, and her entire financial well-being.
Marianne has a specific proposal for Franklin:
A Project however occurs to me, which if I have any good luck at all left, I should think might be brought to bear thro’ your Interest. The Queen of France is fond of Music. A small Annual Pension from her Majesty would attach to her Service the Original Performer upon an Instrument, the Invention of which being superiorly perfect, renders it worthy the Patronage of that Sovereign. and particularly so as the Inventor is universally ador’d by the French Nation. Now if You Dear Sir will but interest yourself for me with your usual Benevolence, what should prevent this being granted?. . .
Nothing seems to have come of her proposal, however, for she sends another letter to Franklin in October 17 of that year:
I made so free as to trouble You with some account of my present Situation, entreating your Advice but I am so unfortunate as never to have had any Answer. I have been and am still in the greatest Anxiety imaginable on this account and can only conclude that either the said Letter or your Answer must have miscarried: for surely had You received it, you would have favour’d me with a Line before now.
There is no record of a reply. Meanwhile, Marianne wasn’t waiting for Franklin. Around May of that year she placed the following advertisement in the Tuscan Gazette:
Marianne Davies, original player of the instrument of electrical music called the Armonica , in view of her imminent departure from this city, informs the public that those who wish to hear her in their homes can be served if they will give notice a day in advance.
Gazzetta Toscana, 1783:84, quoted in Pace (1958), 280
Notice the phrase “electrical music”—obviously Marianne was trying to capitalize on Franklin’s scientific fame by implying a mysterious connection between his spectacular electrical discoveries and the eerie sound of the armonica. After all, the glass bells of the armonica somewhat resemble the apparatus used in electrical experiments.
Notwithstanding the ’imminent departure’ that Marianne threatened in the above advertisement (around May 1783), they were still languishing in Florence in wretched circumstances during Lord Mount Edgecumbe’s visit in 1784–1785. Finally the English colony in Florence, stirred to pity, staged a benefit concert whose proceeds enabled the two sisters to return to England.
Pace (1958), 280 See ??? DNB 5:582
Now in London, by 1797 we find the sisters reduced to giving singing lessons to beginning students. The Rev. Thomas Rackett’s mother writes in Jun 19, 1797:
Miss Davies call’d on me and in the kindest manner assured me they took the greatest pleasure in instructing the dear Dorothea for they had it quite at heart, and was sure in a short time they should bring her out a little wonder to all your friends, that was their words, for which reason they wish’d no body to hear her yet, only they beg she may read music as much as she can.
Letter from the Rackett’s mother, from King Street, Covent Garden, on June 19, 1797. Quoted in Matthews (1975), 150
These singing lessons to daughter Dorothea blossomed into an abiding friendship with the Rackett family. In a letter dated September 4, 1813 Cecilia tells Mrs. Rackett that her sister is living with her but is in poor health. The death of Mrs. Rackett seems to have brought the Davies sisters a small relief from money concerns: Dorothea Rackett, now Mrs. Solly, wrote to her mother in August 1824:
Matthews (1975), 166
Mrs. Domville thinks Miss Davis is right to spend Mrs. Garrick’s legacy as long as it lasts since she cannot live upon air. When the money is gone she must trust to the kindness of her surviving friends who now that her necessities are made known will not leave her in absolute want but there is no necessity for her to—[illegible] and hoard however trifling as she has no one to provide for but herself; from the language of Lady Thorold it it is extremely probable that she and her sister will subscribe whatever may be necessary.
Quoted in Matthews (1975), 166
From the phrase ’she has no one to provide for but herself’ we conclude that Marianne is now dead. Sources disagree on the year, but generally place her death around 1816–1819.
Groves 1819; Highfill (1978) 1816(?); an obituary notice for Cecilia in 1836, the Musical World wrote that Marianne had died “almost 20 years ago” which would put her date of death after 1816 (quoted in Highfill (1978), 4:203).
Cecilia lingered in indigent circumstances and in poor health for another decade—modestly supported in her declining years by the National Fund and the Royal Society of Musicians. Writing on 17 January 1826 Cecilia tells Mrs. Rackett: “Every December brings to my recollection the great affliction which it pleased the Almighty to send me, and, which all my resolution can never get the better of God’s will be done.”
Lamenting the loss of her sister, Cecilia wrote on August 1, 1831:
But allass! I must now be satisfied with the Recollection of the pleasure I enjoyed in traveling as of a pleasing dream never more to be realised having for ever lost that Dear Companion my ever to be lamented Sister whose Society alone could make any spot of the Globe a Paradice to me but we must submit in every thing to the Will of the Almighty.
Quoted in Matthews (1975), 168
Cecilia died in London on 3 July 1835, aged about 78. The funeral of this fine singer, who had taught the queens of France, Spain and Naples, was attended only by an old nurse and a servant.
Matthews (1975), 169
Concerning the fate of Marianne’s instrument: The Harmonicon of August 1832 gives us a column about the lives of Cecilia and Marianne Davies, and mentions that the armonica “is still in good order, in the possession of a lady who was a favourite pupil of Miss Davies”. A letter from Mrs. Solly (neé Rackett) of February 5, 1835 says:
Matthews (1975), 168
Mr. E. Solly writes us word that Wheatestone is to lecture on Acoustics at King’s College in London and wishes much to have the loan of the Armonica. I shall refer him to Miss [Cecilia] Davies as I cannot venture to lend it without her permission and he may as well call on her and it may be of some use to her.
Quoted in Matthews (1975), 168
After this all trace of Marianne’s instrument has been lost.
See Matthews (1975), 169
P.J. Frick
Philipp Joseph Frick (sometimes Fricke, 1742–1798) was an organist, composer and noted performer on the glass armonica, who captivated audiences all over Europe in the eighteenth century, from Russia to London. As he described himself, “the Writer was (formerly) obliged to travel through the greatest part of Europe, and thus became known with his musical instrument Harmonica, almost to every Monarch and Individual.” He also composed and published works for piano/harpsichord and other instruments, and several books on music theory. A review mentions that he played one of his own compositions, so apparently he composed for it, alas none have apparently survived. He also tried to add a keyboard to the armonica.7 In 1797—a year before his death—he published his mystical religious magnum opus called The True Knowledge of God and Man; of the Great Sabbath on Earth; and of the Restoration of All Things; With some Essential Remarks on the Duty we owe to our Creator, generally now referred to (when referred to at all) as simply The True Knowledge.
Frick (1797), §9
The Art of Musical Modulation (1780; after Ausweichungs-Tabellen, Vienna, 1772), A Treatise on the Thorough Bass (c.1786) and A Guide in Harmony (1793)
van Heertum (1999) 22-2, note 14
Frick was born in Willanzheim, a village near Würzburg in southern Germany, on 14 April 1742. He was the son of a Catholic schoolteacher in Willanzheim, Matthäus Frick, and his wife Margaretha Zapff, who were married in the town of Willanzheim in 1736. Where the young Joseph Frick, as he was to call himself in later life, received his musical education is not known, but he was apparently talented enough to rise to the position of court organist to August Georg, the Catholic Margrave of Baden-Baden, from 1762 until 1771, the year in which August Georg died.
After training at a choir school he was probably apprenticed to a master, as musical training in Germany was regulated by musicians’ guild. See Bukofzer, 404–407
In 1769 Frick traveled and performed throughout Germany:
Also, Frick is here, former organist at Baden, a traveling armonica player. He plays very badly, particularly miserable are his own compositions; but the rarity of the instrument means that it requires mention.
Auch ist hier Fricke, ehemaliger Hoforganist in Baden, ein reisender Spieler auf der Harmonika, einzuschalten. Er spielt zwar schlechnt, besonders ist seine eigene Composition Hoechst elend; aber die Seltenheit des Instruments macht, dass er Erwähnung verdient. van Heertum (1999) 22-2, note 14
He performed in Frankfurt on September 16, 1769 and received a much happier review:
Herr Frick . . . gave a concert on the armonica which he built himself. This instrument consists of pure glass bells, evoking such a fine and singing tone as has never been heard before in music.
quoted from van Heertum (1999) 22-2, note 15
While in the employ of August Georg, the Margrave requested Frick to build an armonica, and the completed instrument seems to have pleased the prince. But he never was paid for it, as Frick himself recounts:
From the year 1762 to 1771, the Writer was Organist to the Prince or Margrave of Baaden, for whom he was desired to make the said Harmonica, and for which purpose the then Court-Marshal Baron Schönau advanced the money. When ready, the Prince was indeed pleased with the Instrument: but the said Baron took back his money from the Writer’s whole salary, which obliged him to leave that Court, and to travel—as mentioned above.
Frick (1797), x9, the autobiographical passage is quoted in full in van Heertum (1999) 22-2, 74–75
Frick may have had the armonica built in Karlsruhe, where there was a glass armonica factory. Schmittbauer (whom we shall meet shortly) was Frick’s superior at this post, and also apparently had his instruments made at this same factory.
van Heertum (1999) 22-2, 70
In 1771 the Margrave died. The catholic Margrave was succeeded by his cousin the Protestant Karl Friedrich von Baden-Durlach who joined the houses Baden-Baden and Baden-Durlach. In the merger, Frick found himself out of a job. So he apparently toured Germany again: we know he gave a concert in Hamburg on February 8, 1773. He then traveled to Russia, he lived in Moscow and fended for a living by advertising his talents in the local newspaper. In the Gazette de Moscou of April 1, 1774 he announced armonica performances on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. On July 15, 1774, he again advertised in Gazette de Moscou to lovers of music that glass armonicas could be ordered from him. While in Moscow he lodged with an architect named Rosberg.
van Heertum (1999), 70
van Heertum (1999) 22-2, note 18
van Heertum (1999) 22-2, 71
Frick claims to have performed occasionally in the presence of Catherine the Great. In 1775 he was appointed piano teacher to Grand- Duchess Nathalie Alexeievna, first wife of Catherine the Great’s son and successor Paul Petrovich, and moved to St. Petersburg. When his highborn pupil died in childbirth in 1775, Frick was again left penniless and out of a job. Frick (writing in the third person) describes what happened:
Mooser, 2:127
In Russia, he was (afterwards) music-master to the Grand Duchess. When She died, almost his whole salary, &c. was due to him, as likewise some presents for having several times played upon his Harmonica before the Empress: and to the honour of that Imperial Court be it said, both sums were ordered to be paid, but again, the Minister, (Nicolay Iwanowitz Soltikoft) withheld the money. On account of this second loss he [the writer] was obliged to travel still farther on, instead of returning to his original home; and though he never thought of coming to England, yet, two days before he intended to set off from Holland to the Southern parts, he was wonderfully directed to go to London (1778) at least for a few months.
Frick (1797), x9, quoted in van Heertum (1999)
He left Russia for Germany in 1776 or 1777. In 1764, established in his career as a court musician (as he thought) in the employ of the Margrave at Baden-Baden, Frick married Josepha Domini Fistler on 9 October 1764. The marriage was witnessed by Joseph Schmittbauer (whom we shall meet shortly). It’s not known if Frick took his wife with him to Russia, but he must have left her behind in Rastatt, in rather poor circumstances, when he continued his travels after his return from Russia. The registers of the city of Rastatt in Baden list the wife of ’court organist’ Frick, who received alms, wood and corn from the local alms fund from 1778 until 1782. The reason for the separation may be found in Frick’s own commentary on Matthew 5:32: “It says, Man and Wife are not allowed to separate, except for adultery; forcible means, such as a soldier being sent abroad, or an absolute necessity to seek for bread, excuse the man likewise.’
van Heertum (1999) 22-2, 71
So, in 1778 Frick traveled to Holland. Originally planning to head south, Frick says (writing of himself in the third person): . . . though he never thought of coming to England, yet, two days before he intended to set off from Holland to the Southern parts, he was wonderfully directed to go to London (1778) at least for a few months.
Frick (1797), x8)
No surprisingly, things didn’t go well for Frick in London either, at least not initially:
But having been robbed there, in the first fortnight, of a valuable gold watch, and his whole property being lost soon after (which however he received again after ten months) he was certainly obliged to enter into business, (teaching the Harpsichord) in order to get again, if possible, the expence he had incurred during that time, and what he was robbed of. This restitution came, however, so slowly, that at last he grew too old for pursuing his travels; and lately he employed much time upon this present knowledge, whereby he neglected all opportunities for increasing his business; therefore he acquired till now (1796) no more than what enabled him (during these 19 years past) to pay—as he did—every day for what he wanted, without having been at any time indebted or troublesome to any person whatever.
So he pursued his musical career with some success, teaching the harpsichord and apparently giving performances on his glass armonica to London audiences to general applause. Reichardt, a fellow armonica virtuoso/composer, probably met Frick when he traveled to London in 1785, and reported that Frick was active as a piano teacher and had written several music compositions. He must have had some reputation as a musician, as Haydn, on his first trip to London, lists Frick as a notable musician of his day. He also dedicated one of his books to the Queen (perhaps in hopes of a reward) and may have been introduced to her—possibly after a performance.
van Heertum (1999) 22-2, note 25
H.C. Robbins Landon, Haydn, Chronicle and Works, 5 vols, London 1976–1980. Vol 3, Haydn in England 1791–1795, p. 182 ???
van Heertum (1999) 22-2, 73
In 1779, a year after arriving in London, he joined the Masonic Pilgrim Lodge (now no. 238)—founded in that year specifically for the German speaking community in London. Frick was not a founding member, but as its seventh member he was a very early one. Interestingly he listed his occupation as ’businessman’, and not ’musician’, for reasons that are not entirely clear. When he was admitted, he had the qualification ’Affil.’ added to the date of admission, meaning he was already a mason, although it is unclear where in his travels he first joined. He was made the lodge’s Director of Ceremonies from 1779 to 1781. He probably met Haydn and Reichardt—two visiting German musicians who were also Masons. And Johann Christian Bach, Queen Charlotte’s music master, was also a inducted into the Pilgrim Lodge in 1781.
van Heertum (1999) 22-3), 129–131
It’s unknown how long Frick remained in the lodge. His interests were increasingly taking a millenarian turn. Much like our own recent “Y-2-K”—short for “Year 2-Kilo” (or thousand)—they were experiencing their own “Y-1.8-K” fever, many ’millenarian’ groups expecting Jesus Christ to establish His 1000-year reign at the turn of the century. There was a tense social and political climate in both England and the Continent— everyone was on edge after the Reign of Terror in France, and prophecies abounded. “Pamphlets prophesying the end of time and the establishment of the New Jerusalem on earth, as envisioned by John in Revelations XXI.2, were printed in abundance in London.”
van Heertum (1999) 22-3, 132
In 1795, a dramatic spiritual conversion appears to have urged Frick to observe a more retiring way of life, and in 1797 he published his True Knowledge, which promises to describe the great ’Sabbath on Earth’, and is also intended to prepare mankind for the imminent coming of Christ. It was published by William Bryan, himself involved in millenarian circles at least since 1789, and Frick published his tract anonymously—perhaps a wise precaution considering that Richard Brothers, a prominent millenarian, had proved a sufficient threat to the authorities that they committed him to an insane asylum. (Brothers continued to publish from the asylum anyway.)
van Heertum (1999) 22-3, 132
Frick claims to be divinely inspired—like so many others inclined towards mystical theosophy. In True Knowledge he declares that he was favored by God to present to the world the true account of man’s divine origin, so men might know and prepare for the coming of Christ: Christ has even revealed to the Writer the reasons why his Kingdom will be established upon Earth. This was, indeed, never before communicated to any person in the world; we may take it as proof that it was only to be known at the latter end: otherwise something of it would certainly have been mentioned before, either by a Prophet or by an Apostle: this seems to be additional proof that the long expected time (Daniel XII.89) must be at hand.
p.111, quoted in van Heertum (1999) 22-3, 133 ???
Some of the many divine revelations Frick received were not to be made public yet:
Several other real reasons of the Lord’s judgements have likewise been given to the Writer, but as they are not absolutely necessary for our instruction and preparation, they are not permitted publicly to be mentioned at present.
p.111, quoted in van Heertum (1999) 22-3, 133 ???
True Knowledge, as Frick informs us in a footnote to page 112, was published only after divine approval: “The merciful permission for publishing this book was received on the 14th day of March 1797, at noon, 12 o’clock; for which Mercy the Lord be praised for ever.” Frick is very meticulous about the times he received his revelations, most of which appear to have been communicated to him in August 1795.
van Heertum (1999) 22-3, 133
Frick died in London on June 15, 1798, without being able to see the turn of the century that had so obsessed him. Perhaps it is just as well, as his prophecies didn’t come to pass. He didn’t leave a will. Although he lived separated from his wife at least from 1778 onwards, communication lines between the couple seem to have remained open: Josepha Frick is described as a widow in the Rastatt registers as early as June 26, 1798, eleven days after Frick had died in England. She died four years after her husband in Rastatt in 1802, in difficult circumstances.
van Heertum (1999) 22-2, 73
According to the oft-quoted Gerber Frick gave up the instrument in 1786 because of its ruinous effects on his nerves. But we have just seen Frick say:
E.L. Gerber, Historisch-biographisches Lexikon der Tonkünstler, part 2, 1792 (DBA 112, 366) ???
This restitution [of financial losses] came, however, so slowly, that at last he grew too old for pursuing his travels; and lately he employed much time upon this present [religious] knowledge, whereby he neglected all opportunities for increasing his [music] business. . .
In other words, it would appear that his religion was crowding out his music career. And earlier in the same passage he writes:
These [musical] journeys [throughout Europe] were to be performed (as he but lately understood) merely [Frick’s emphasis] for the purpose of proving now to all, who saw and knew him, that unlearned Men, like the Apostles, may again receive Light; and likewise that, as he found Mercy, every person might trust in the Lord for Pardon. . .
In other words, his music career was merely a prelude to his religious one. Furthermore, his long autobiographical passage (published in 1797, well after the supposed ’nerve damage’) makes a point of enumerating the long list of misfortunes that befell him and led him to God. If “nerve damage that forced him to quit the armonica” had occurred, that would have been a particularly convincing calamity to share with the reader.
K.L. Roellig
Karl Leopold Roellig (also Röllig) (1750?–1804) was an armonica maker, performer and composer. He was born in Hamburg; we aren’t sure exactly when— some time around 1750. We know nothing of his youth. He was musical director of Ackermann’s theatrical company in Hamburg from 1764 to 1769 and in 1771–2. His lost opera Clarisse was performed in Hamburg in 1771 and two years later in Hanover. Around 1780 he took up the glass armonica and went on a concert tour; in Dresden he was the guest of J.G.Naumann, and appearances are recorded in Hamburg (1781 and 1788) and Berlin (1787). From 1791 to his death he lived in Vienna, where he had a post at the court library and frequently performed on the glass armonica. Roellig & Kirchgaessner??? He was never married.
MGG 7:610
Roellig was very interested in improving the glass armonica. He visited most of the glassworks of Bohemia and Hungary in his search for the best glasses, and around 1785 developed a method for marking the chromatic glasses (the ’sharps and flats’—the ’black keys’) with gold rims. In 1784 Roellig (like Frick 15 years earlier, but independently of other contemporary developments) attempted a keyboard version of the glass armonica.
Roellig also invented the Orphica (a portable piano) ??? around 1795 and developed the related Xänorphica in 1801 with Mathias Müller, and published numerous essays on instrument building. Naumann praised his ’subtle use of diminished and augmented intervals and harmonies and their resolution’, but Rochlitz in the Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung ??? reported that he ’plays far better than he writes’; his playing is said to have ’forced the audience to flee on account of the endless diminished 7ths and disconnected progressions’. Reichardt wrote two pieces for Roellig’s glass armonica.
Groves, ???
In 1787 Roellig wrote a rather extraordinary essay about the armonica: ¨ Uber Die Harmonika: Ein Fragment (“Concerning the Armonica: A Fragment”). He begins by waxing quite eloquent about the instrument:
Roellig, 5
“There has never been an instrument more important for the future than the armonica. . . ”
It is “the most beautiful and pleasant instrument ever possessed by mankind. . . ”
“The impact of this instrument borders on the fabulous, and it is likely, if it ever should be lost, that the tale of this instrument will be for the future what the history of Orpheus is for readers today.”
He then shares five ’letters’—fantastic anecdotes, really—about the armonica, which he claims are true stories??? Double check. . .
Letter 1
Two men are about to have a duel (over a woman, of course). Friends persuade the antagonists to meet them in a meadow. Before the antagonists arrive, one of the friends hides in nearby bushes with his armonica. When the antagonists arrive, one friend tries to talk them out of their duel, while the other friend plays the armonica:
He conjured them to follow this picture of tranquillity and peace—so I supported him with the full power of the ar monica. Whenever he paused I would play and as soon as the sound of the armonica stopped he started begging them again. Suddenly they came running towards me —sobbing— and asked me to stop playing. I would only answer them through my beloved instrument until they were finally overwhelmed from feelings of friendship and embraced passionately. I was just about to put the armonica away—after it had been so successful—when we heard someone whispering the following words: “You went away, you lovely sound, with pleasure you absorb my night. You went away!” Just then a creature dressed all in white stepped out of the bushes. It was Mrs Von W.-R. had informed her about our plan and she wanted to be a witness of this adventure. We had hired a boat so we could travel part of our journey on water, and so she accompanied us. During various talks a big cloud enchained ??? the moon, a sight we watched with pleasure. You are aware of how easily Mrs von W’s ideas change from the present to the future. The moon appeared again and we were guided by the long shadows of the objects surrounding us, which kept on changing their shapes, without knowing into the empire of ghosts.
We talked about tone??? and language of these supernatural creatures
I was seated advantageously behind my instrument, had pulled the blanket back and thought that this would be the right time to play it. But as soon as I played the first few chords Mrs B. fainted, and only recovered just before we reached the dry land. I did not know that she was such a sensitive soul. But she shall never hear the armonica again without a warning in advance.
Letter 2
The author is invited to a friend’s manor—which features “several temples, grottos, waterfalls, maze walks and subterranean arches”—to play at a ball that evening. Overcome by fatigue, the author slumbers, and is awakened by a servant. . .
He suggested carrying my instrument and I was asked to follow him.
He was in a rush but because I only followed him slowly I had the opportunity—as I was guided by curiosity—to follow the dull sounds of trombones, which seemed to be coming from the cellar.
But imagine to my amazement when I walked (and nearly fell!) down the stairs leading to the cellar, and suddenly spotted a burial vault. I watched people putting a corpse into a coffin, and while sepulchral music was being played one was busy bandaging a vein on the arm of a person who was all dressed in white and covered in blood.
Everyone else, apart from the health professionals, was covered in long black coats, and showed bare swords. At the entrance to the vault dead bodies were lying upon each other. The only light in the room came from candles that smelled similar to burning alcohol, and this light made the whole view look creepy and frightful. As I didn’t want to lose my guide I hurried back.
As soon as I arrived at the garden entrance the guide stepped inside. Impatiently he grabbed my hand and pulled me along. As soon as I entered the garden I stopped with amazement. I had never seen anything as beautiful as this. All seemed to be set alight by green flames—flames coming out of lamps—buzzing of far away waterfalls—nightingales sang sweetly—there was smell of blooming flowers everywhere—it all seemed unearthly and nature seemed to have dissolved in magic. I was shown my seat behind an arbour with heavenly decorated interior.
Soon a person—who was unconscious—was carried into the arbour and I was given the sign to start playing. (I assumed it was the person I saw earlier in the vault, the one who got his veins bandaged. But I am not sure about this as all tradesmen wear noble robes.) I was too busy concentrating on myself that I did not really have a chance to notice what was going on.
But I did realise that the unconscious person—after I had played the armonica for one minute—recovered and asked full of astonishment: “Where am I? The voices I can hear. . . to whom do they belong?” Jubilation with trumpets and bass drums—that was the answer. Everyone suddenly grabbed their swords and rushed deeper into the garden, what happened then I cannot recall.
Letter 3
While traveling, the author arrives in a town where the residents. . .
. . . were famous for being very religious, and were also easily to impress. Even the name ’armonica’ seemed impressive to them. When I offered to play for them the whole community gathered in church celebratory, as to where I followed them. The sacredness of this town and the extraordinary silence of such a big crowd of people—who were so soulful—made this whole event just beautiful.
The expression of impact the armonica showed was new to me. No fainting, no tears but she created merry, hopeful and smiling faces; the same hope that is created when you look across the borders of our life. We parted joyfully, after they had all passed me during the procession, looking at my instrument with silent admiration.
Some of the men accompanied us through the forest to the castle of Earl R., where we stayed the night. Some of them carried the armonica on their shoulders, and they treated it just like a sanctuary. The others guided the way by lighting up lanterns and candles in the street.
Letter 4
While I was on my journey to P.—I got the coachman to stop at a little bridge where I saw a little girl sleeping on the other side. I decided to wake her up with my armonica.
I hid not far from the girl and played a soft melody for her. The soft and quiet tunes seemed ineffective so I decided to play a few stronger chords. Just when I was about to finish playing she suddenly opened her eyes and looked at me. She was frightened, looked around her and started to cry.
After her first movement I stopped playing then continued again quietly; but she started to scream, jumped up and ran away as fast as she could.
When I managed to get out of the bush—my hiding place—she was long gone and I was left standing there surprised.
Even now when I think back on this event I still do not understand why she was so frightened of my music.
Letter 5
. . . However, I used to have a dog who could not tolerate any other tone but the one of my armonica. It seemed that as long as I was playing it he was always in a comfortable mood. He sometimes went over to the armonica and sniffed it by taking deep breaths.—
The expression of Mr. M.’s dog was however far more flamboyant and well worth observing. I would like to describe the following scene—which I was able to watch many times—as accurately as possible as it was so peculiar.
This dog was remarkably big, humane and lethargic. But he knew exactly at what hour I would arrive at and tried everything to get into the room with me—be it through trick, flattery or violence. . . . When I began playing he was very alert; but after a few seconds only of me playing the armonica he would nod off and fall into a state of somnolence (= abnormal need to sleep), unable to resist. A few times he changed his sleeping position and while doing so he tried to cover his ears from the sound of the armonica; but as soon as he lay down he was overwhelmed by sleep again. All his movements suddenly became epileptic. The dog was just like a lifeless machine, only moved by weights and ropes, just like a puppet on a string. His eyes opened up violently and you could see the eyeballs rotating quickly. The mouth started to deform with intensity which lead to unnatural chewing, you could compare him to a ravenous wild dog. His paws moved swiftly as if he was running; and sometimes I noticed a silent bark.
This scenario usually lasted for approximately half an hour. When he woke up he seemed as if he awoke from a dream, he was yawning, seemed droopy and fearful. . .
He concludes his article:
It is advised not to touch the armonica if you are not in good spirits or not entirely healthy. It is no instrument to be used for just sheer amusement; it is worth much more. And if you are aware of how much it is worth then it will keep this value forever.
You should play it only now and then—and when you do—only for a short time.
If you consider that passion never lasts for a long time—but the armonica always tries to express the highest level of passion—you’ll find that it manages to create passionate sensations in only a short space of time.
If you would like to try and resist the magic of the armonica you have to start early on, as it proves to be very difficult.
You should especially avoid playing her around midnight. I have never heard it singing with more passion than during the silent night, where everything seems quiet and still. The night went by in an instant and in the morning I felt as if I had not slept at all. . .
It gives great pleasure to everyone who plays it and everybody will be captive to its irresistible charms. It can become really dangerous if you do not try to moderately escape from this well-spring of innocent pleasure. . .
If you compare the impact the tone has on the audience (with much stronger impression on the player himself)—the unique sound of these tones—with the many repeats—everybody will have to admit that playing this instrument is not an easy task.
Not only these soft “airwaves” which fill your ears can have serious consequences but also the percussion and the constant straining of the cups with already fragile nerves on your fingers can cause illnesses which can—sometimes—even end fatally.
I can give evidence from my own experience—so I will now tell you a little about my history of illnesses which will hopefully be a warning to everyone. (An elaborated history of my illness—the beginning of it—its activity-peak-decrease—the way the diet influenced it and the constant use of a cold bath—it all would be far too much detail to tell you.) A persistent tremble of nerves, twitching of muscles, dizziness, cramps, swelling and palsy of the limbs were usually the results whenever I played my beloved instrument too much.
The most cruel side effect of all was however, that I started to imagine things, I dreamed with my eyes open, in the middle of the day I saw creatures (people) from different centuries, in the evening and at nights I saw ghosts which seemed to move with the wind, and which created strange noises and threatened me with my downfall.
Of course I only had myself to blame for feeling so miserable— as I kept on playing my instrument day and night. I was happy whenever I played my beloved armonica, I felt so much passion—how could I have anticipated that it would make me so sick?
During my travels I spoke to many different doctors but no one managed to come up with a reason for my bad health. I eventually realised that I needed a break and that I had to stop playing for a while when I was unable to lift my armonica as I was simply too weak.
Every time I recovered quickly, usually without the help of any medicine. But every time I had played for a while I fell ill again. I eventually decided—and it was a very hard decision—to quit playing the armonica all together.
This was six years ago—and I have not been ill since.—(I am not allowed to play any instrument which is similar to the piano or the violoncello as this usually leads to short breath and palpitations. And this snatches away all hope of ever being able to play the armonica again.)
I realised that my illness had been genuine, and that I had not imagined it when it failed to return after I had quit playing my armonica. It was even more convincing when I found out that the same thing had happened to Miss Davis [sic] and Organist Frick.Miss Davis had to stop playing in Wetzlar, Frick in London. I do not want to blame Frick for keeping his illness a secret. I am assuming it might have been “revenge” on Germany as it seemed that many people did not care about him as an artist.
I don’t want people to think the same of me—not only Germany but the whole world should realise that the armonica is a gift to them but can make you ill if you use it too often.
I have warned many people not to play the armonica too much—artist and dilettante will read my warnings—but as soon as they play again they will forget about it.
I wished however, that this fabulous instrument would be honored to highest perfection.
F. Reichardt
Friedrich Reichardt (1752—1814) German composer and ’Hofkapellmeiser’ at the court of Kassel, traveled to England in 1785
Marianne Kirchgaessner
Marianne Kirchgaessner (1769–1808) was born in Bruchsal (in Germany, near its south-west border with France) to Joseph Anton Kirchgaessner and his wife Maria Theresia. The family was devoutly Catholic: Marianne—their fifth daughter—was baptized Maria Anna. Two years later another daughter arrived, Maria Gertrud Sophie, who would be her famous older sister’s constant traveling companion in Marianne’s last eight years. (They ultimately had nine children, including at least one son, to whom Marianne would ultimately pay a last fatal visit.). Both parents were musical: her father was a good cellist and tenor singer, and her mother played piano and dulcimer.
Ullrich (1971), 8–9
Little Marianne, just as musically talented as her brothers and sisters, was blinded by smallpox (which caused ulcerations on her corneas) at four years of age. (Mozart at 11 years old also contracted smallpox, and survived essentially unscathed.) Marianne’s mother had died a short time before. Her now doubly grieving father used all means and spared no expense to cure Marianne—without success. Marianne nevertheless persisted with her piano playing—without systematic instruction—to a point where Josef Reichsfreiherr von Beroldingen, a local official, heard her play, and was so impressed that he sent her to Joseph Schmittbauer (1718–1809), the Kappelmeister at Karlsruhe, for training, particularly on the glass armonica.
An article in Braunschweig Magazine, April 4, 1801, quoted in Schneider (1985), 332ff.
Schmittbauer was not only an accomplished armonica player, but could build fine armonicas. Beroldingen not only referred Marianne to Schmittbauer, he also provided Marianne with an armonica, which cost at that time the extraordinarily high price of 100 speziesdukaten. (In 1742 Franz von der Trenck stood before the gates of Waldmünchen with his Hungarian army, and the city paid him a ransom of 50 speziesdukaten to spare the city.) Marianne studied armonica with Schmittbauer for 10 years with astonishing progress. By then her father (who had just retired with a very modest pension and was thus open to additional income), her sponsors including the Margrave of Karlsruhe, and most of all her teacher Schmittbauer—all felt she was ready for a concert tour that might earn all of them fame and fortune.
Ullrich (1971), 9
At this point Heinrich Bossler (1744–1812) music and newspaper publisher, together with his wife Sophie, took over Marianne’s “management” and became her family—a business arrangement that blossomed into a lifelong friendship for the remaining 18 years of Marianne’s life and career, including the agony of caring for Marianne in her final illness and taking care of her funeral arrangements. Bossler continued to manage his publishing business while on the road with Marianne, and his main office in Spayer continued apparently unchanged.
Schneider (1985), 180
1791: Her almost ten-year concert tour begins in February, with a concerts in Heilbronn—expectations for this concert were so high that people journeyed for 4 or 5 hours to hear her —Ludwigsburg and Stuttgart (all close to her hometown), and then farther afield to Munich, Salzburg and Linz.
For the outline of the following timeline I am indebted to Schneider (1985), 317ff
Letter of February 1791 quoted in Schneider (1985), 321ff
Here is a review of her Linz concert:
The famous blind virtuosa Mademoiselle Kirchgaessner gave to Linz in the theater on 24 April a concert on the improved Franklin armonica; her heavenly playing on this extraordinary precious instrument delighted everyone with pure harmony to our ears, utterly exceeding all our expectations; because before this we heard only bare ponderous, melancholy Adagios with individual howling tones no chords? on the armonica. But this young blind artist treats this instrument completely differently; she plays splendid compositions, on which she can be heard, full-handed with whole harmony, their subtle nuances, the tones wax and wane, her trills on the glasses are inimitable; Allegros, which before her yet no artist dared, she plays with an unbelievable talent, full of gentle grace and feeling. She could also be heard accompanied by several instruments, which must be played however extremely quietly.
slow pieces
fast pieces
Excerpt of All European Newspapers. Vienna. Friday the 13. May. 1791. Nr. 109.
Quoted from Schneider (1985), 324
At a mere 21 years old she was a sensation, which paved the way to Vienna where she stayed for 5 nearly months. Mozart heard her and was inspired to compose music for her:
The Adagio and Rondo (K617), a quintet for armonica, flute, oboe, viola, and cello, completed May 23, 1791. Marianne herself announced her premier performance of this ‘entirely new’ piece in the Wiener Zeitung (“Vienna Times”) on August 13:
Filled with feelings of the warmest gratitude for the happy applause with which I was honored at the musical concert held by me on 10 June of this year at the I. & R. National Court Theatre, I deem it my duty to respond with all that lies in my power to the exhortation, so flattering to me, to allow myself to be heard on the armonica once more. I shall therefore, by most gracious I. & R. permission already obtained, hold another grand musical concert next week, before my departure hence to Berlin, at the I. & R. Kärntnertor Theatre, and play on the armonica an entirely new and surpassingly beautiful concert quintet accompanied by wind instruments, by Herr Kapellmeistera Kapellmeister was a music director for nobility or for a large church. This position always involved supervision and direction of other musicians. Mozart, as well as new variations on the favorite duet from the Molinaria, “Nel cor piu non mi sento”, by Herr Kapellmeister Wanhal, and altogether such pleasing pieces as to persuade every connoisseur of music entirely that the armonica is the noblest of all musical instruments, exciting not sad and melancholy, but rather glad, gentle and elevated feelings. The forthcoming poster will give further details.
Marianne Kirchgaessner
quoted in Deutsch, 399—400 (Note: a misplaced comma by Abert, an early Mozart biographer, has led to the mistaken notion that Mozart himself played in this concert. Alas, that can’t be inferred from Marianne’s announcement. See Otto & Hatch (1956)
Mozart’s quintet became one of the most popular pieces of her repertoire.
Ullrich (1971), 44
The Adagio for solo armonica (K356 / K617a).
Köchel originally numbered this K356, but subsequent scholarship has shown that this was composed at about the same time as the quintet, hence the change in Köchel number to K617a.
A Fantasia in C (K616a), another quintet for armonica, flute, oboe, viola and cello. Alas, Mozart inconveniently died on December 5— having completed only the first thirteen fragmentary bars of this piece.
It is worth noting that Mozart had been acquainted with the armonica from his teenage youth: his first patron was Franz Mesmer, the inventor of ’mesmerism’ (in which the armonica played a significant role. We’ll be considering his story in more detail shortly). Mesmer owned a particularly large and fine armonica, was himself a capable player, and played his armonica for a 17-year-old Mozart. Wolfgang’s father mentioned it in a letter to his wife:
Herr von Mesmer, at whose house we lunched on Monday, played to us on Miss Davies’s harmonica or glass instrument and played very well. It cost him about fifty ducats and it is very beautifully made.
Letter from Leopold Mozart to his wife, July 21, 1773; quoted from Anderson (1938)I:341–2
A few weeks later Leopold brought up the armonica again, mentioning that Wolfgang himself tried playing Mesmer’s instrument:
Do you know that Herr von Mesmer plays Miss Davies’s harmonica unusually well? He is the only person in Vienna who has learnt it and he possesses a much finer glass instrument than Miss Davies does. Wolfgang too has played upon it. How I should like to have one!
Letter from Leopold Mozart to his wife, August 12, 1773; quoted from Anderson (1938) I:343
As we have seen earlier???, Mozart was on friendly terms with Marianne Davies, and thus must have been acquainted with her playing:
A few days ago Miss Davies arrived here and drove past our house in the mail coach. I recognized her and she saw us, for we happened to be standing on the balcony. A few hours later I went to call on her at the ’Three Kings’, which is not very far off, as I guessed that she would be staying there, since it is the most respectable inn. She, her sister, her father and her mother could hardly express their joy. I told their servant where Herr Hasse was staying and very soon his daughter appeared, who also was beside herself with delight, for they have been most cordial friends since they met in Vienna. They all asked for you at once and they send you their greetings. You will surely remember Miss Davies with her armonica?
Anderson (1938), 198 ???
Nevertheless, it wasn’t until almost two decades later that a now 35- year-old Mozart was inspired to compose for the armonica. His friend Davies didn’t inspire him to get out his all-too-facile pen. His wealthy patron Mesmer with the checkbook and an armonica didn’t inspire him either... But Kirchgaessner fired him up! It’s difficult not to conclude that Kirchgaessner was simply a vastly superior player to Davies.
Also, notice that Leopold says that Mesmer’s armonica itself is ’a much finer glass instrument’ than Miss Davies’s. Thus it may also be the case that German—made armonicas were superior to English ones, which would have given Kirchgaessner a significant advantage. (Talent is helpful too, of course.)
in the letter of August 12, 1773
Altogether Marianne played in Vienna three times that year: June 10 in the castle theater, on August 19 in the Kärntnertor theater and on September 8 in the Jahn hall in the Himmelpfortgasse. For their concert in the Kärntnertor theater, which originally already should have taken place on 13 June, wrote Mozart “the Adagio and Rondo” in Cm (K. 617).
Deutsch TODOwhich book?, 383
1792: Concerts including Prague, Dresden, Leipzig, Berlin (including four command performances for the king, for which he gave her 100 Friedrichs of gold), Hamburg (which Marianne herself says included “an armonica quintet by the unforgettable Mozart, which he wrote for me just before his death in Vienna.”) and Magdeburg.
Schneider (1985), 325
1793: Concerts mostly close to home in Darmstadt and Bruchsal.
1794: On her way to London, she gives a private performance for Christian Gottlob Neefe (1748–1798), Beethoven’s teacher, which he said “uncommonly agitated me”. Arrives in London in March. Salomon was producing a highly successful concert series for Haydn, and Marianne performed in the sixth and ninth of those concerts—also in March. Here’s the program of the sixth concert (which also lists the performer’s names), published in the Morning Chronicle, March 15, 1794:
Schneider (1985), 326
Part I:
Ouverture, Piehl; Song, Mr. Florio; Concerto Violoncello, Mr. Damen, jun. Aria, Madame Mara; Terzetto, Madame Mara, Mr. Florio, and Mr. Fischer.
Part II:
Grand Overture (M.S.) Haydn; Aria, Mr. Fischer; Quintetto on the Harmonica, Mademoiselle Kirashgessner[sic], 	(being her first appearance in this Ceuntry [sic], Cavatina, Madame Mara. Finale
quoted in Schneider (1985), 327
Being a concert promoting Haydn’s music, it’s unclear if the quintet Marianne played was the one Mozart wrote for her, or if Haydn himself wrote another.
A review of the concert had this to say:
The only novelty of the evening worth mentioning was the performance of Mademoiselle Kirch Gessner [sic] on the Harmonica.  Her taste is chastened, and the dulcet notes of the instrument would be delightful indeed, were they more powerful and articulate; but that we believe the most perfect execution cannot make them. In a smaller room, and an audience less numerous, the effect must be enchanting. Though the accompaniments were kept very much under, they were still occasionally too loud.
Morning Chronicle, March 18, 1794, quoted in Schneider (1985), 327
Notice that the main complaint is that they could barely hear her. Another review said: Mademoiselle Kirashgessner [sic] performed upon an instrument little known-the Harmonica. It is a conic barrel of glass, which she touches with a truth and feeling so soft, so persuasive, that—’Melancholy marks it for her own.’
Oracle, March 19, 1794, quoted in Schneider (1985), 328
(Considering that England had just lost the American Revolution, it is understandable that neither review mentioned that Benjamin Franklin invented Marianne’s instrument—bad for ticket sales!)
She performed again at Salomon’s ninth concert on April 7:
Part I
New Overture (M.S.) Reichards [J.F.Reichardt], Aria, Mr. Fischer; Concertante for Clarinet and Bassoon, Messr. Hartman and Parkinson. Scena, Madame Mara. Sonata on the harmonica, M. Kirchgaessner
Part II.
The New Grand Overture, (M.S.) Haydn, which was performed last Monday. Cavatina, Mr. Fischer; Concerto, Violin, Signor Viotti. Rondo, Madame Mara. Finale
(Morning Chronicle, April 5, 1794)
quoted from Schneider (1985), 328
At least by this concert they spelled her name correctly! The sonata she played was presumably composed by Haydn—alas it has not survived. Being blind, new music was played for her on the piano, which she then ’played by ear’ from memory! Unfortunately this may have resulted in fewer copies being made. A Braille-like system for notating music had been invented for the blind pianist Paradis—a contemporary of Kirchgaessner—but she never adopted it. (We shall meet Paradis in connection with Franz Mesmer a little later on.)
Ullrich (1971), 17
In 1794 Fröschle (a native-born German) made her a new instrument, which she used from then onwards. This instrument (and Marianne) were reviewed in October 1795:
The famous virtuosa on that heavenly instrument, the armonica, Miss Kirchgaessner, will leave England at the earliest opportunity, and, with a reputation which follows her, to pursue her destiny through Hamburg. She has, according to information from Mr. Rath Bossler, a completely new armonica by Mr. Fröschle (one of the first mechanics of London, which if I may say so, is in truth first in his craft) leaving behind all well-known instruments by far, and with good reason it deserves to be called the most perfect musical instrument. Mr. Rath B. looked for the most simple, flexible resonator he could attach, whereby the armonica, especially in the bass, has an uncommon strength so that now the soul—elevating effect of the deep tones affects each listener unbelievably with true charm. With this improvement the instrument, which has a reputation of being gentle, noble in tone—and the delicacy of the inimitable performance of Miss Kirchgaessner still makes abundantly clear its excellent tone—is all the more full and free. Also, in building this splendid instrument, which is worked and inlaid in the most tasteful mahogany, Mr. Fröschle has given us a true masterpiece, which truly makes many an honor for him. We congratulate all connoisseurs of music, who have the opportunity to hear this precious and unique instrument under the inspiring fingers of Miss Kirchgaessner.
apparently ’Rath’ is the English equivalent of ’Heinrich’
Supplement No. 170 of the Hamburg Impartial Correspondent for October 24, 1795. Trans. by the author, source in Schneider (1985), 330
While she was in London Dr. Fiedler prescribed eye-drops which improved her vision to the point where she could vaguely distinguish shapes and colors.
Pohl (1867), II:264, and Schneider (1985), 334
1795: Two two-hour concerts a day (!!) under the patronage of the duchess of York. Here is the announcement in the (London) Times
(May 8, 1795):
Under the Patronage of Her Royal Highness The Duchess of York. Miss Kirchgaessner’s Performance on the Grand Harmonica, No. 57, Polandstreet, Soho, every day from 1 till 3, and from 7 till 9 o’clock. Admittance 5s. Each person.— Miss Kirchgaessner respectfully begs leave to acquaint the Nobility, Gentry, and her friends, that she means to discontinue her performance on the above instrument after the 14th inst[sic]. She entertains the most flattering hopes that those amateurs, who are sensible of the superiority which this instrument so decidedly maintains above all others, it being so happily calculated to convey to the heart the most heavenly sensations, will within this short period manifest the encouragement which they very kindly conceive the abilities of Miss K. deserve, and that patronage of which she has had the honour of receiving already the most agreeable marks.
Quoted in Schneider (1985), 329
These earned Kirchgaessner a small fortune. (At this time solo concerts were not yet common).
Ullrich (1971), 12
1796: In November Marianne leaves London for Hamburg, where she gives concerts in November and December.
1797: Goes to Copenhagen, where she gives a concert in May for the Danish king. Performs in Königsberg, and begins her journey to St Petersburg. (A daunting journey given road and travel conditions in those days.)
1798: Stays in Petersburg to mid-year. Concerts in Königsberg in November.
1799: Concerts in Thorn, Posen, followed by presentations in Schleits, Lausitz and Saxonia
1800: By this point a long list of the eminent composers of her day had composed for her: Clementi, Fasch, Haydn, Hoffmeister, Mozart, Naumann, Salieri, Reichardt and Vanhall—and she knew them all personally! Bossler buys for them a country home in Gohlis (a suburb just north of Leipzig) for herself and the Bosslers, (3700 thalers cash, 2000 thalers in a mortgage) which included meadows, two horses, six dairy cows, sheep, seeds and agricultural equipment. Her almost decadelong concert tour is over—only concerts in relatively close cities from now on, and only in fall and winter—spring and summer were spent at Gohlis.
Schneider (1985), 214
AMZ January 18, 1809???
1801: Concerts in Hanover and Frankfurt. In this year H. Jung writes: ". . . This modest and virtuous person is easily the greatest master of the heavenly instrument of the English glass armonica. . . "
quoted in Schneider (1985), 335
1802: Concerts in Stuttgart.
1803: Predominantly at home in Gohlis
1804: Concert in Leipzig
1805: Concerts in Berlin and Breslau
1806: Vienna. Concerts in the Redoutensaale to a full house, as well as other performances, all made precarious by the French occupation of Vienna. The war thwarted her plans to tour Italy. In October, at her home in Goelis she had the misfortune to be mistreated by Napolean’s soldiers, fresh from their victories at Jena, which “weakened her constitution and from which she never fully recovered.”.
Ullrich (1971), 14
AMZ January 18, 1809 ???
1807: Predominantly at home in Gohlis
1808: Concert in Prague. Goethe visits Kirchgaessner, as noted in his diary entries for June 29: “At 4 o’clock with Ziegesars to Miss Kirchgaessner, who played some on the armonica”, and for July 28, noting of their visit simply “Kirchgaessner”.
Goethe’s diary entries, quoted in Schneider (1985), 339. Unfortunately no one seems to be able to supply a source reference for the quote ascribed to Goethe that the armonica was the “Herzblut der Welt” (“the heart-blood of the world”). See Ullrich (1971), 18
She gives concerts in Stuttgart in November at the König von England hotel. “The hall, the gallery and the adjoining rooms hardly contained the quantity of listeners.” The program included singers and orchestra:
Morgenblatt für gebildete Stände, Nr. 281 of November 23, 1808. Quoted in Schneider (1985), 340
First Part
Overture by Cherubini Ballade by Zumsteeg for armonica and voice Large solo for armonica, accompanied by orchestra by A. Reicha Air by Danzi, sung by Miss Long
Second Part
Symphony by Haydn Air by Salieri, sung by Mrs. Graf Solo Sonata for Armonica “Johanna’s Farewell”, a melodramatic monolog from the romantic tragedy The Virgin of Orleans, by Mr. Von Schiller; narration by Mrs. Gehlhaar, with armonica and orchestra. Music by A. Reicha.
Schneider (1985), 341–344
The performance—which turned out to be nearly her last—received the following poetic description on November 23, 1808:
What wonderful ringing, Festive, with lofty singing! What full harmony! I float, losing my earthly Shell, already to the nether regions where the Good abide forever? How have I earned, o pious one, Your heavenly welcome? Ha, a strange sunshine radiates from me! Never have I felt such godly Bliss flow over me. I hear Eden’s clarity, a joyous choir, Sounds of Hallelujah ring. The Sons of Light give me well-being! Brothers, lead me to the Nameless One So I can cry Thankfulness, Pray praises, sing praises! Ah, the sounds harmonious— They sound—what sweet reverie! Yet still here below must I tarry; After all it is heaven’s, and mine the feeling. Thanks be to your magic playing, Muse of the armonica! A younger [St.] Cecilia! O you sounds of the spirit are gradually over everywhere, which is holy, And a human a cherub is. Even would an atheist Call faith from the depths of his heart: God! Immortality! Thou Art!
Welche wundervolle Klänge, Festlicher, als Hochgesänge! Welche Harmonien—F¨ ulle! Schweb ich, los der Erdenh¨ ulle, Schon empor zu Regionen. Wo die Guten ewig wohnen? Wie verdien’ ich, o ihr Frommen, Euer himmlisches Willkommen? Ha, mir strahlen fremde Sonnen! Nie empundne Götterwonnen ¨ Uberströmen mich.—Ich höre Edensharfen, Jubelchöre, Halleluja rings ertönen. Heil mir bey des Licthes Söhnen! Br”uder, f ührt ich zu dem Einen Namenlosen, Dank zu weinen, Lob zu beten, Lob zu singen!— Ach!—die Harmonie’n verklingen— Sie verklangen-Sü”ses Träumen! Noch muß ich hienieden säumen; Doch ist’s Himmel, was ich f ¨ uhle, Dank sey deinem Zauberspiele, Muse der Harmonika! Jüngere Cecilia! O du tönst den Geist allmlig Ganz hinüber, daß er selig, Und der Mensch ein Cherub ist. Selbst ein Gottesläugner riefe Glübig aus des Herzens Tiefe: Gott! Unsterblichkeit! Du bist!
Morgenblatt f ür gebildete Stände, Nr. 281 of November 23, 1808. Quoted in Schneider (1985), 345, trans. by the author
Now 39 years old, she had just performed in Stuttgart and was determined to see her brother in nearby Odenheim, with whom she had not had contact for seven years. The roads between Stuttgart and Odenheim were less than optimal, particularly in winter. Her manager Bossler wrote:
I had traveled the most of Europe with our dear Marianne, and we came across many dangerous and bad passes and roads in the past; we never overthrew the vehicle and nothing has ever happened to her, but every time we mentioned narrow passes she feared. And I always felt sorry for her whenever we had to pass these narrow roads. Although she was barely able to see her surroundings, as she had sadly lost her eyesight, she always imagined the worst scenario; and although we used to try to convince her that the danger was over, it did not help. So imagine how fearful she was on this journey!
AMZ, Bossler , ???
Poor roads in winter proved an insufficient impediment: the reunion was accomplished, and as Bossler says:
“Thursday, 24th November the loving sister and brother said good-bye—only too soon find themselves again in a better life!”???
On the return trip there were problems with her coach; she was exposed to too much cold, and contracted pneumonia (or something like it. Medical diagnosis in those days was still very primitive.) Her condition waxed and waned for about a week:
Her sister and I believed that she might be suffering from a cold again; she was given painkillers. But all through the night she was agitated and her temperature rose more and more, so on Monday morning we sent for the doctor. Dr. Stockar came to see her, and he also believed that she was suffering from a cold. I was slightly relieved by the diagnosis, however myself and her sister were worried about our friend being so half hearted about the whole situation. In the afternoon the doctor came back and gave us all hope; but the fever continued and she had a very disturbed night from Monday to Tuesday.
She felt slightly better on the Tuesday although towards the evening she complained about pains in her abdomen. Surprisingly the temperature rose so much that she started to rave. I sent for the doctor during the night and begged him to tell me the truth about her condition. He explained that he was really worried about her illness.
We tried everything possible to rescue our dear ill patient: with permission of Dr. Stockar we also consulted Dr. Wepfer. Both doctors had a long talk and tried everything possible to keep her alive.
Both doctors stayed aside our ill patient all day long; however the illness deteriorated and was still going strong by Wednesday and Thursday night, and she raved even more.
Alas, her manager and friend Bossler finally wrote:
On Friday, 9th of December at approximately 10am we noticed that death was near. All my hopes faded away and so did my consciousness. I was destroyed at the thought to lose her, I loved her like a father, after all she was my travel companion for the past eighteen years, and we shared many happy and also sad moments.
She was heartbroken whenever she failed to please people. Her fingers—which once created such heavenly music and lifted so many thousands of people into higher regions— turned stiff—all has been robbed by death!
AMZ, Bossler, ???
And later Bossler records:
At around four pm the same day Padre Laeuble, confessor at the convent Paradies (which is situated approximately half an hour from Schaffenhausen in Thurgau) came to see us to pray once again with my dying friend. And before she passed away she said a few times clearly: Beautiful! Very beautiful! And she also said Brother *) and Therese **) in a weak voice.
*) Our dying Kirchgaessner could not know what we found out in Karlsruhe, eight days later, on the 27th of December, on our journey back from Switzerland: her brother, whom she loved so much, had passed away on the 6th of December, three days before her own death. He died from the same illness as our dear friend! It seemed as if—those who have loved each other so much and had never been apart—paid for their trust in each other by dying together!
**) Therese was the name of her older sister who died in Mannheim in 1804.
In the same necrology, Bossler records Professor Appenzeller who wrote to Professor Mueller the day after Kirchgaessner’s death:
I can still feel a shiver down my spine when I think back on the news you gave me regarding our dear Kirchgaessner! Perhaps she is with the Lord by now—the only fatherland full of harmony. Her soul will be celebrating; her glance will now greet the light which has always shone in her world. Untroubled harmony now rings in her breast—the spirit of her dreams has now disappeared and she will now have resolved the ’mystery of existence’.???
Bossler wrote the newspaper announcement of her death (December 29, 1808):
With indescribable sadness must I announce to you the death of my dear Kirchgaessner, in Schaffhausen on December 9. In the evening at about 9:30 she passed over to eternity. She is in the earth there, she whose soulful playing charmed so many thousands. Her earthly remains lay in Paradies, a convent, whence the worthy nobles of Schaffhauser in mourning dresses, and myself, in more than 20 coaches, accompanied her to her grave. In all of Schaffhausen neither wagon nor horse were to be had, and many of the first families accompanied us in the terribly cold weather on foot to her final resting place. Miss Stockar and fourteen of the noblest daughters of this city, together with the whole music college with their president in the lead, drove in 7 cars to the convent, in order to give to this artist, as in life, so also in death to give her their respects, and in the convent church, to give a Castrum Doloris and perform a Requiem. Then Miss Stockar sang a scene from the oratorio Lazarus by Hasse with great dignity, and after a eulogy and all remaining ceremony (and at every altar a Soul’s Mass was read), the body returned to the city. The crowding was so great that the hotels had to call the police to keep peace and order. This was the day after her death—thus Saturday December 10. In Schaffhausen Professor M”uller further honored the good Kirchgaessner by placing an extremely precious laurel ring in her coffin, and all, even the first women of the city, came to her viewing. In such a way died my dear good Kirchgaessner, whom for 18 years I saw her art germinate, bloom, and prosper to the highest maturity, and the deadly wounds strike deep into my heart. I will go in a few days from here (Mannheim) to Leipzig, and write a complete biography of the blessed one, in which will be included a fine portrait, and a copper engraving of the Paradies convent. Bossler
a traditional decoration of flowers and candles signifying importance
Morgenblatt f ür gebildete St”ande for December 9, 1808, quoted in Schneider (1985), 353, trans. by the author
An obituary in the Allgemeine Musicalische Zeitung (The General Musical Times) had this to add about Marianne:
As is well known she suffered since childhood from very weak eyesight, and since then, in various years, she was nearly completely blind. Her character was gentle resignation and acceptance of her fate, and only in occasional moments and on special inducements was it disturbed by sickly irritability.. . . [S]he was free from all artist moods, obliging everyone whom she could please with her talents.
AMZ January 18, 1809, trans. by the author ???needs a litle more love
Bossler wrote a necrology of Kirchgaessner (which we quoted above) but never completed the promised biography. He suffered from ill health until his own death in 1812, sponsors withdrew from the project, and there were fewer than expected subscribers.
Bossler’s last letter to Professor M¨ uller, January 18, 1810, quoted in Schneider (1985), 365ff
Bossler and his wife lived in the country home in Gohlis until 1810 when they sold it (for 6500 thalers—they had paid 5700) and lived off of its proceeds.. Upon Bossler’s death in 1812, business and inheritance issues with their children left his wife Sophie in modest conditions, and she died in 1823.
Schneider (1985), 220
Schneider (1985), 221
Considering the degree of Kirchgaessner’s fame in her day, it is surprising that no drawing or portrait of her has survived, nor as far as we know was one ever made. She also never had students, or composed music herself.
Ullrich (1971), 16
Ullrich (1971), 17
She had two armonicas: the one Schmittbauer made for her, and the one that Fröschle made for her in London—which she was presumably using at the time of her death. The fate of both instruments is unknown.
Angelica Kaufman
Angelica Kaufman (1741–1807) wasn’t an armonica virtuoso—she was a famous painter of her day who apparently played the armonica (exceptionally well) for personal amusement. As a youth she excelled at both music and painting, and in ??? made the decision to make painting her profession. . . . [???]
Angelica is pictured here in a copper plate by Karl Rahl and appeared 1819 as an illustration in the Viennese reproduction of the first collection of “Schriften” (“Writings”) of Helferich Peter Sturz (1736–1779), which had been originally published 1779 in Leipzig. Angelica seems to be playing her armonica to gain inspiration—her easel stands at the ready for her next painting. Of her playing Sturz wrote:
“London, den 15. Sept. 1768. When [Angelica Kaufmann], with her armonica, sings Pergolesi’s Stabat,[???] ”
“Wenn sie [Angelica Kaufmann], vor ihrer Harmonika, Pergolesis Stabat singt, ihre grösen schmachtenden Augen, pietosi a riguardar, a mover parchi, gottesdienstlich aufschl ägt, und dann mit hinströmendem Blicke dem Ausdruck des Gesanges folgt, so wird sie ein begeisterndes Urbild der heiligen Cägtcilia . . . ”. Quoted in Deutsch, 382