Introduction
The Euromast towers over a tree lined vista and the August sun shines brightly as thousands of people gradually enter Het Park in Rotterdam. Some guests are casually dressed in t-shirt and jeans, others beautifully adorned in lacy dresses, wearing straw hats and gloves. Men in suits wearing top hats and pocket watches are accompanied by curly haired women in gowns as the soft notes of a violin concerto merge with the guests’ excited conversations. What at first glance appears to be a scene reminiscent of a themed wedding is in reality the annual classical music festival De Dag van de Romantische Muziek celebrating Romantic classical music and the period’s values of nature, art and friendship.
The festival goers gradually spread out over the large park grounds. A group of friends enjoy a picnic in the shade cast by the trees near the pond. Their conversations are temporarily interrupted when a small crowd gathers in front of the Parkzicht villa. The picnickers bemusedly observe the group of guests admiring and taking pictures of two women wearing long Victorian dresses and hats. As a short pop-up concert erupts nearby, the picnickers focus their attention to the performance while simultaneously eating and conversing. Visitors exiting the culinary pavilions curiously approach the surprise concert, promenading and sipping their wine.
Across the pond guests flock to the ‘Tussen de Hagen’ stage where a string quartet is performing. The rows of wooden seats are already occupied and hundreds of festival goers stand and listen to the music. Signs reading 'Stiltezone' surround the stage area, urging guests to remain silent during the performance. Oblivious to the silent rule, a group of friends softly continue their conversation when a gloved lady taps their shoulders and points to one of the signs. Slightly embarrassed, one of the friends makes an apologetic gesture to their neighbour and the group continues to listen to the concert in absolute silence.
The groups’ faux pas of talking during a classical concert may appear to be contradictory to the typical festival atmosphere. In this sense, the Dag van de Romantische Muziek (DRM) can be perceived as an excellent example of the fusion of conventional classical concert behaviour and what appears to be festival conduct. In spite of the event taking place outdoors, the various activities and easygoing atmosphere, the concerts that take place at the large stages demand silence and undivided attention, reminiscent of concert hall behaviour. Simultaneously, these strict behavioural rules do not apply to the festival’s short pop-up concerts where guests are allowed to divide their attention between several activities at once. Rituals of promenading, eating, drinking and conversing in the case of the DRM however, can not be classified as typical festival conduct. Instead, I will argue that this concert behaviour has its roots in an era preceding the concert hall's strict listening regime.
Dutch classical music festivals such as the Grachtenfestival, the Dag van de Romantische Muziek and Festival Classique draw tens of thousands of visitors annually. These open-air concerts have contributed to the informalization of classical music, providing first-time guests with an opportunity to become acquainted with this genre outside of the daunting concert hall. While the festivalization of classical music provides visitors with a unique experience, representatives of the cultural sector emphasize their hopes that classical music festivals may serve as an intermediate step to concert hall visits (G. Geluk, interview May 7, 2014; H. Mosselman, interview May 16, 2014).
These ambitions reveal that, to a certain extent, we have deep rooted notions about good music and listening behaviour. According to Christopher Small (1998), Western society privileges classical music above all other music and even more so, we are provided with a rigid set of rules of attentive listening to truly show our appreciation of good music. Small advocates the idea that this perception of music as an abstract object is not helpful in establishing the meaning of music. He argues for a different approach and introduces the concept of musicking as a framework to understand musical experience: "To music is to take part, in any capacity, in a musical performance, whether by performing, by listening, by rehearsing or practicing, by providing material for performance (what is called composing), or by dancing" (p. 9). Understanding music as an activity allows for a more inclusive analysis of the relationships involved in what Small has coined as the musicking process. As Small asserts, musical experience is not an individual matter, but a social one as it involves numerous relationships between various parties such as the audience, performers, the composer, roadies and everyone involved in the activity of musicking:
The act of musicking establishes in the place where it is happening a set of relationships, and it is in those relationships that the meaning of the act lies. They are to be found not only between those organized sounds which are conventionally thought of as being the stuff of musical meaning but also between the people who are taking part, in whatever capacity, in the performance (p. 13).
The aim of this paper is twofold. First, following Small's approach, I aim to analyse musicking at the Dag van de Romantische Muziek by tracing the historical roots of this event to London's pleasure gardens in the eighteenth century. Comparing these venues to the DRM in terms of musicking will reveal similarities and key differences which allow further examination of how and to what extent practices of listening and behaviour are informed by historical practices rooted in both the strict listening regime of the concert hall and eighteenth century's pleasure gardens modes of behaviour and listening. Second, I will argue that in the light of musicking, the hierarchy of classical music is contestable. The meaning and experience of musicking can take on diverse forms, each to be understood in its own right and context.
In the first part of this paper I analyze the DRM as a case study. In order to examine the DRM’s roots in concert hall behaviour and pleasure gardens, I will briefly describe concert hall etiquette and corresponding modes of attentive listening in the second chapter, followed by an analysis of London's pleasure gardens in the third chapter.
Chapter 1 Dag van de Romantische Muziek
The DRM is an annual free open-air festival in Rotterdam, geared towards Romantic classical music. This 'Dutch Ascot in the park' attracts tens of thousands of visitors each year. Guests often dress in nostalgic attire, promenade around Het Park, meet friends, listen to music and typically enjoy a picnic under the trees. The Glyndebourne Festival Opera inspired Dorine de Vos, founder of the DRM, to organise a similar event in Rotterdam (Keunen, 2011). The English opera festival has been an annual event since 1934, during the intervals between performances, exquisitely dressed visitors typically enjoy a picnic on the lawns of Glyndebourne's country house. After the 25th edition of the DRM in 2011, the festival's organisation Stichting Buitengoed faced financial hardships and turned over the event's organisation to Stichting CultuurBrigade. Hans Mosselman, director of the CultuurBrigade, and his partner Frank had just set up their foundation and as fans of the outdoor festival took it upon themselves to save this event from extinction. While their first turn in organising the DRM was successful, the financial losses were still considerable. By combining the DRM with a new culinary event, Park Proeven, the festival started to bounce back from the financial losses. Following the success of the combination of the DRM with Park Proeven, the 28th edition of the festival will take place on August the 24th 2014 in Het Park in Rotterdam.
The location of the event suits the overall festival's theme. Het Park in Rotterdam opened in 1852, designed as an English garden by garden architects Jan David Zocher jr. and his son Louis Paul Zocher. The park has a long history of musical performances, as Franz Liszt performed here in 1854 during an international music festival. The organisation aspires to re-create and maintain the nineteenth century atmosphere by preventing interventions in the landscape as much as possible. The architecture and history of the location contribute to the festival's atmosphere which, according to Mosselman, can be best described as sweet and civilized: "When you see how people interact with each other, it gives me some hope for this world. It's a soft festival in a hard city. And we need that romance, especially in Rotterdam, but also in our society in general" (H. Mosselman, interview, May 16, 2014).
One of the organisation's main aims is that the festival is accessible to a broad audience. By keeping the admission to the event free, Stichting CultuurBrigade aspires to provide guests with the opportunity to become acquainted with classical music in a recreational setting. In a sense, Mosselman hopes that the festival serves as an intermediary step towards the appreciation of classical music and attendance of classical concerts in more formal settings such as De Doelen in Rotterdam or the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam. According to Mosselman, younger generations often experience difficulties in remaining focused for a long time during classical concerts in the concert hall as they are used to receiving multiple stimulants at once. By combining classical music with the decor of Het Park, a Romantic atmosphere and a full program with diverse forms of entertainment, the organisation hopes to attract, as Mosselman dubs it, the ADHD generation as well. Mosselman continues that in spite of the music being the key element of the festival, the majority of the visitors attend the DRM for the pleasant atmosphere and overall festival experience.
The musical programme of the DRM is varied. Visitors can listen to performances at various podia throughout the park such as the J.O.N.G. Ensemble and the Doelen Ensemble. In order to retain the visitor's attention and create an authentic festival atmosphere, short pop-up concerts take place throughout the park at various time slots. During these surprise concerts, guests tend to not listen attentively to the performances. In order to facilitate different modes of listening, silent zones are established near the large podia. While it is difficult to maintain absolute silence in these zones, volunteers and even visitors try to call attention to someone's behaviour. Additionally, some of the stages are equipped with amplifiers. Aside from bringing Romantic music, the organisation also emphasizes Romantic values, such as love, friendship, respect for nature, art and emotions. A wall of poetry serves as a display for renowned Romantic poets and also showcases visitors' poems. Special stands provide traditional food and beverages to the visitor, for instance, tea containing ingredients found in Het Park.
The festival's varied entertainment programme annually attracts approximately 35.000 visitors; a varied public, spanning several age classes, young couples, families and their children. An audience survey conducted in 2009 shows that the largest number of respondents (51.2%) stated that the 'gezelligheid' was the main reason for attending the festival, in contrast to 5.9% of the respondents attending the DRM for the overall festival program. It is striking that the majority of the respondents (54.4%) has followed an HBO or university education. As admission to the event is free, it would be reasonable to assume that the festival's audience would represent diverse backgrounds in terms of education. Furthermore, the respondents stated that the most important aspects of the event were: the atmosphere (84.7%), location (65.5%), program (36%) and the type of visitors the festival attracts (37.9%) (Meijer, 2009). Mosselman notes that a majority of visitors are female, as the possibility to dress up in a romantic dress appeals to many young women: "Women like to dress up and the festival provides a great opportunity to wear a special dress, for instance a wedding dress. When you would walk down the Lijnbaan in a dress like that, people will probably laugh. At the DRM the opposite is true, as guests appreciate these costumes and often take pictures of other visitors" (H. Mosselman, interview, May 16, 2014). Dressing up for this day is stimulated by the organisation as these romantic outfits make-up part of the decor of the festival. Mosselman adds that the organisation is even considering to establish a special zone in Het Park were guests can change into their festival outfit, in order to save them from the hassle of sitting in the metro or tram in their fancy outfits.
The media coverage on the DRM strongly highlights and emphasizes the festival's civilized, cozy atmosphere and centralizes the decor of Het Park, the Romantic outfits and classical music. Headings such as "Ascot in the park" (Rotterdam, 2013), "Enjoyment with style" (Genieten, 2013) "Wine, hats and music" (Keunen, 2013) indicate that the DRM combines many different elements and activities ultimately all connected to the process of musicking. Moreover, the festival serves as a location to meet friends and acquaintances. Media accounts of the DRM strongly highlight the festival's social component by featuring stories of friends dressing up together and making visits to the DRM an annual tradition and guests taking pictures of exquisitely dressed festival goers. A comparison of the media coverage on other classical music festivals such as the Prinsengrachtconcert reveals a crucial difference: These articles are solely focused on the classical music, the works, the composers and the ensembles and the transcendent experience of listening to these works; a rather narrow portrayal of the event by solely focusing on music as an abstract object and the one-sided communication from the performers to the musical experience taking place on an individual level through the process of internalization (Abrahams, 2013; Don, 2013).
In contrast to such reports on the Prinsengrachtconcerts, the media coverage on the DRM is more inclusive by emphasizing the festival's many different components. Applying Small's concept of musicking to this event shows how the location of Het Park, the various performances and activities and social relationships create a unique experience where visitors, performers and the organisation are all participants and the process of musicking. While the classical music is not offered in a conventional form, the silent signs and guests' behaviour near the large podia can be seen as indicators of underlying assumptions and expectations reminiscent of concert hall conventions. The next chapter will explore contemporary concert hall etiquette in order to illustrate how such behavioural rules are part of the musicking experience at the DRM.
Chapter 2 Concert Hall Etiquette
Cohering with the idea of listening as absorption, the concert hall is an instrument of discipline and control imposing a strict set of behavioural rules on concertgoers. Such historical practices are projected on the way concertgoers are expected to behave and listen at today's classical concerts performed in concert halls. Contemporary concert etiquette demands moderation, silence and attentive listening from concertgoers. This rational set of behavioural rules is elemental to notions of high-culture music.
In his work of analyzing the power of crowds, Elias Canetti (1962) identifies the concert's public as a stagnating crowd. This specific type of crowd is characterized by close compression, making it impossible to move freely and giving rise to a collective feeling of pressure. While stagnation in, for instance, the theatre has become more of a rite and has become natural behaviour, concert hall behaviour greatly differs as it requires a long and artificial training in stagnation in order to suppress outward reactions:
Here everything depends on the audience being completely undisturbed; any movement is frowned on, any sound taboo. Though the music performed draws a good part of its life from its rhythm, no rhythmical effect of any sort on the listeners must be perceptible (Canetti, 1962, p. 37).
It appears to be a paradox that the music is meant to touch and stir concertgoers' deepest emotion, yet at the same time they are not permitted to show any physical evidence of this experience. Gert Geluk, former manager of Communication and Marketing at the Limburgs Symfonie Orkest and head of Communication and Marketing Philharmonie Zuidnederland, explains that the intrinsic experience of reflection and retrospection are crucial aspects of attending a concert in a concert hall. This process of internalization may take a couple of extra seconds to sink in, explaining that applause does not immediately follow the end of a piece. Geluk compares these intense emotionally charged moments to falling in love with someone for the first time, creating an almost transcendent feeling. During the applause and standing ovation, the moment of discharge, concertgoers are allowed to express these feelings, causing a standing ovation and applause sometimes to last for fifteen minutes (Geluk, Interview, May 7, 2014).
For newcomers, the strict behavioural rules governing the concert hall may seem foreign. The amount of social control in the concert hall may cause what sociologist Cas Smithuijsen dubs concert hall anxiety. Once a newcomer overcomes this social-psychological threshold and adapts to the set of behavioural rules of the context of the concert hall, the concertgoer becomes accepted and the behaviour will eventually become second nature. Smithuijsen notes that frequent concertgoers are often unaware of the specific set of rules that only make sense in the context of the concert hall (Smithuijsen, 2001, p. 124). When specifically asked for advice on concert behaviour do's and don'ts Geluk recalls the advice he gave to his children when he asked them to accompany him to the opera later this year: "Turn off your cell phone, be on time and copy your fellow concertgoers' applauding behaviour to prevent clapping during the performances' 'natural' silent moments" (G. Geluk, Interview, May 7, 2014).
The greatest nuisances during today's classical concerts are ringing mobile phones and coughing. Smithuijsen highlights that during the 1990s coughing in Amsterdam's Concertgebouw led to a tremendous media discussion about concert etiquette. Many newspaper editorials dealt with concertgoers' complaints about other guests' lack of respect for the music. Oftentimes concertgoers would cough in between the breaks of a sonata or symphony. The silence between these pieces, however, is perceived as a crucial part of the musical experience and disturbance in these breaks is considered to be rude (Smithuijsen, 2001, p. 121). Acknowledging that it makes sense that such disturbances can and will occur during live performances, Geluk underlines the importance of moments of silence during a concert and remarks that people should cough during hundred decibel passages instead of breaking the spell during the most fragile parts of a piece. Geluk jokingly adds: "During these silent moments it is better to suffer a silent death, than to stand up rasping and coughing to leave the concert hall" (G. Geluk, Interview, May 7, 2014).
The rules of silence stretch far beyond the context of musicking in the concert hall, as it is also perceived as an exercise of discipline which is an integral part of the higher-educated cultural lifestyle (Smithuijsen, 2001, p. 132).
We define the experience as a step apart from mundane existence and the compromises involved there, especially those that form a part of profit-oriented commercial culture. It is a shift into a highly internalized realm where we achieve a purity of both intellect and feeling such as we find in few places in our lives. The experience fulfils a spiritual function that the church offers to few educated people in our day (Weber, 1997, p. 678).
When asked to elaborate on his concert hall experiences, Geluk supplies that it is difficult to explain and opts that I should find out for myself by attending Philharmonie Zuidnederlands' upcoming concert. Being foreign to concert etiquette, I hesitatingly accept Geluk's invitation to attend Philharmonie Zuidnederlands' season closing concert on Friday May 9. As I enter Theater aan het Vrijthof, the local fun fair's noises slowly fade away; a reminder of the building's careful design to prevent any disturbances to the performances taking place in the various halls. The thick red carpet muffles our steps as we ascend the stairs to the balcony of the Papyruszaal. After my father and I claim our seats, I pause and reflect on my interview with Gert Geluk on concert etiquette. Keeping in mind the common annoyances during classical concerts I turn off my cell phone and for good measure remove the battery from its case. I remind my father to turn off his phone as well, as we have been through some awkward moments in the past when his phone started ringing during the most inconvenient moments.
Sibelius' violin concerto is a pleasant surprise and I find myself truly enjoying the music which somehow reminded me of Gone with the Wind's score. From the corner of my eye I see a group of teenagers in the row in front of me shifting in their seats and recording parts of the concerto with their mobile phones and I find myself getting annoyed. Their constant movements, however slight, turn out to be a source of distraction preventing me to fully immerse in the music and the concert hall's atmosphere. Surprisingly, the silences between the different parts of the symphony are utilized as a coughing period, yet no one appears to be bothered by these disturbances. As the violin concerto comes to an end, the crowd breaks out into a tremendous applause and gradually people are raising from their seats to treat the musicians to a standing ovation; the moment of discharge. Taking Geluk's advice to heart, I copy the crowd's behaviour and rise from my seat to join in on the applause and ovation. As the applause slowly winds down I reclaim my seat, but to my dismay and embarrassment the audience proceeds clapping louder and louder and no one has sat down yet. When it becomes clear that an encore will be played, people quickly regain their seats and return to listening attentively.
The second standing ovation ends with the lights turning on signalling the intermission. During the break, the crowd moves to the bar on the ground floor and a chaotic battle for a glass of wine quickly unfolds. The concertgoers gradually seep into the hall decorated with modern art, ripped clothing, and either gossip about other guests or gush about the violin concerto. I'm still sipping my wine when an old fashioned clock starts to chime, heralding the end of the break and the crowd gradually moves back into the Papyruszaal.
Shostakovich's Fourth Symphony, presented by an orchestra composed of 109 musicians, erupts and in contrast to the concerto before the break, Shostakovich's symphony is rather loud and I find myself eying the exit. Unfortunately, the concert hall is cleverly designed to constrain concertgoers to their seats. Unlike a theatre or a cinema, the rows of seats are not far removed from one another, preventing my urges to shift in my seat in utter anxiety for this aggressive cacophony to be over as soon as possible. As I try to reposition myself in my seat my father's cell phone starts buzzing during a moment of silence in the symphony. The vibrating sound is even more piercing in the absence of the musicians' loud music and other concertgoers surrounding us are searching for the source of interruption as well. As I poke my father in hopes that he will turn off his phone, instead he decides to lecture me to stop shifting in my seat. Almost an hour, and two awkward moments of my father's phone buzzing, later the clapping and standing ovation ritual finally begins and I gratefully join in on the applause; I had survived my first classical concert and, in contrast to my father, hopefully had not caused any annoyances to other concertgoers.
My own experience of attending a classical concert combined with the literature and interview with Gert Geluk illustrate that in spite of the highly individualized notions of attentive listening a variety of relationships and activities contribute to the process of musicking in a concert hall. First, the building itself mediates the relationships involved in a classical concert. The design of the concert hall, for instance, with the close compression of the rows of seats, aids in the creation of a stagnated crowd. As Small notes, the highly specialized nature of concert buildings involve careful design decisions: "[Architects] know how people are supposed to behave there and will shape the building in ways that will encourage that behavior, at the same time closing off the possibility of behaviors of different kinds" (Small, 1998, p. 20). Second, while the reception of the music may take place on an individual level, the concertgoers are united as a crowd during the moment of discharge in a collective display of the appreciation of the performance. The applauding and standing ovation are evidence of the different relationships involved in the process of musicking in the concert hall as concertgoers are connected to one another during the moment of discharge which in turn can be perceived as positive feedback to the performers and conductors. Ultimately the overall concert experience depends on the adherence to concert etiquette, as divergences in behaviour are easily noticed and perceived as a disturbance of the musical experience. Moreover, the range of activities involved in the process of musicking entail more than the musical performance taking place on stage, the reception on an individual level and the ritual of applauding and standing ovations. During the break and after the concert, concertgoers group together in the bar and hallway to discuss the performances and overall atmosphere of the concert. Thus the combination of the location, relationships and activities contribute to the meaning and musicking experience of a concert hall visit.
Concert hall behaviour is not restricted to concert halls, the silence signs at the DRM and guests and volunteers' correcting interventions, imply that during classical music festivals, guests do have expectations and assumptions about attentive listening. In spite of the open-air set-up, the stage, rows of seats and nature of the performances reconstruct a concert hall setting, conveying notions of concert hall etiquette and listening behaviour. The overall atmosphere at the DRM and the pop-up concerts facilitate less rigid listening and behavioural regimes, as guests are free to converse, promenade and sup during these performances. In the next chapter, I will analyze the historical roots of the DRM in London's pleasure gardens in the eighteenth century.
Chapter 3 Pleasure Gardens
Late seventeenth century England was characterised by the growth of public entertainment venues that brought high culture to a large audience. Music and art were no longer confined to the elite's drawing rooms and the private sphere, but became accessible cultural goods to anyone who could afford an entrance ticket. The commercialization of high culture took its shape in art exhibitions, assembly rooms and pleasure gardens. Such venues were visited by a broad audience; a mixture of the titled elite and lower social classes. In the late seventeenth century it became a health trend to drink spring water. Gradually, many of England's springs and spas expanded their grounds with entertainment and amusement, bringing pleasant evening strolls into fashion and giving rise to an increase of pleasure gardens (Southgate, 1911, p. 145).
Vauxhall Gardens and Ranelagh Gardens were London's most renowned pleasure gardens offering seasonal and nocturnal entertainment programs. Vauxhall Gardens (1732-1859), a twelve acre quadrangle garden located on the South bank of the Thames is vividly described by Conlin: "The majority of the site was given over to long allées or “walks”: three running to the eastern edge of the site, bisected by two more running north-south. The supper boxes, orchestra, and westernmost walks were brightly illuminated with hundreds of lamps, but the “dark walks” clearly lured many visitors to explore the dim reaches of the site" (Conlin, 2006, p. 721). Musical bushes, mechanical fountains, a diorama, musical performances, paintings depicting important moments in national history, fireworks and masquerades all assisted in creating a fantasy world of illusion and disbelief to visitors. Vauxhall's competitor, Ranelagh Gardens (1742-1803) located on the North-side of the Thames "replicated certain of Vauxhall’s attractions, such as tree-lined promenades and live music, a majestic Romanesque rotunda dominated the gardens and was promoted as the principal innovation distinguishing the new resort from its established rival" (Greig, 2012, p. 58).
Scholarly work on pleasure gardens often emphasizes the intermingling of social classes at pleasure gardens; an important aspect adding to the popularity of these venues (Aspden, 2002; Conlin, 2006). The mingling of ranks was part of an ideology of education for the masses by involving a broad range of classes in polite society, a development which was perceived as essential to the state's social and constitutional health (Conlin, 2006, p. 722). Furthermore, the legacy of pleasure gardens is sought in the democratization of elitist activities and the creation of a collective sense of national identity (Aspden, 2002). Historian Hannah Greig, however, asserts that in spite of pleasure gardens' appearance of inclusivity, social exclusivity was constantly practiced and maintained in popular locations such as Vauxhall Gardens and Ranelagh Gardens: "Parading only with their equals, repeating visits week after week, using particular parts of the garden at particular times of day, the titled elite used the gardens in distinctive ways" (Greig, 2012, p. 53). First, Greig notes that pleasure gardens such as Bath and Tunbridge Wells were equipped with distinct walks. The commoners paraded at the lower walks, while the elite utilized the upper promenades. For her case study on social practices in Vauxhall and Ranelagh Gardens Greig analysed newspaper articles, private letters and diaries of tourists and Vauxhall and Ranelagh frequenters.
Entrance to the pleasure gardens was affordable to a broad audience. A ticket for Vauxhall Gardens cost one shilling and Ranelagh charged its visitors two shillings. Greig notes however, that in contrast to the cheap entrance tickets, refreshments were over-priced. Supping at pleasure gardens was an elitist activity and the special supper boxes were an unknown territory for commoners. Guests occupying the supper boxes could hire garden musicians to play at their table (Cowgill, 2012). Moreover, the pleasure gardens' subscription tickets were pricy and only the elite could afford seasonal tickets. Members of the upper classes usually visited the pleasure gardens a couple of times a week, as these venues were often visited by the elite to sup after the opera was over (Southgate, 1911). The majority of London's pleasure gardens opened in late April and the city's elite routinely frequented the gardens until the end of June, when the upper class traded in the city for the country, causing a rift in the social compilation of the gardens' visitors. Furthermore, the elite preferred to visit the gardens during weekdays and remarked in their diaries that the pleasure garden's public during Sundays "was more of a bear garden than a rational place of resort" (Greig, 2012, p. 70) and opted to avoid the audience of commoners instead.
In spite of the many curiosities and high art found in the pleasure gardens, Greig remarks that the elite did not seem to be concerned with that in their journals. The majority of their accounts strongly emphasize the desire to mingle and promenade with members of their own class, seeking out good company, making it highly improbable that members of different classes would mix and mingle in these venues (Greig, 2012). Thus, Greig concludes that in a sense the pleasure gardens' public was "All together, yet all distinct": "Through repeated visits, the use of specific spaces of the gardens at specific times of day, and by effectively flaunting impenetrable circles of acquaintance, the elite commandeered these public sites in a way that reinforced rather than reduced their claims to social separation" (Greig, 2012, p. 72).
In this fantasy world visitors were not mere spectators, but actors as well: "Here autovoyeurism was the central activity, indulged in consciously and deliberately by men and women of different generations and social classes. It was closely associated with role play and illusion" (Conlin, 2006, p. 719). The pleasure garden's visual culture additionally entailed flirtation and courtship: "That Vauxhall's walks and shades were heavy with sexual tension made it a place for 'intrigue, "play" and experimenting with social roles" (Ogborn, 1997, p. 452). The sexually charged glances of men gazing at women and vice versa were accepted as a part of the visual pleasures the venues had on offer.
London's pleasure gardens musical repertoire consisted of a variety of instrumental and vocal music. For instance, Vauxhall's entertainment program on June 30, 1787 consisted of an Overture by Bach, a full Overture by Haydn, an organ and violin concerto and a Symphony by Schmidt (Southgate, 1911, p. 148). Many renowned composers played during the garden's season, even composing and arranging special pieces specifically for these venues. In its early years, Vauxhall mainly offered instrumental music at several pavilions and stages. Once Ranelagh and other pleasure gardens incorporated vocal music into their entertainment program, Vauxhall followed this trend by hiring male and female solo vocalists as well. This change in the program caused some adjustments in the garden's architecture in order to present the soloist and band as a spectacle:
Originally the instrumentalists had been seated in a circle, facing inward, at a round table (serving as a music stand) on the same level; by 1784, however, the band had turned to face forward, and then, to accommodate new tiered seating and music stands and to create space for a soloist, a dropped platform with a separate sounding-board had been added to the front, in the manner of an illuminated garden balcony (Cowgill, 2012, p. 112).
Additionally, Vauxhall's music program served as a means to create and maintain the fantasy world's illusion and disbelief: so-called Subterranean Musicians were located in underground pits throughout the garden, concealed by bushes and trees, to create the illusion of musical bushes vibrant with fairy-music. Both Ranelagh and Vauxhall Gardens often organised river fêtes on the Thames, where musicians would play pieces, for instance Händel's Water Music, on boats (Southgate, 1911). Such diverse applications of music would later be lost in the nineteenth-century concert hall regime.
Thus, the musical entertainment offered at pleasure gardens was diverse and the evening's concert program often presented a mix of orchestra music and short vocal songs. Cowgill notes that it was a common practice at Vauxhall to promenade during the instrumental music and listen attentively to the short vocal performance. As the evening's musical program was displayed on a tree near the orchestra, visitors were able to study the program and create a routine of promenading and returning to the stage (Cowgill, 2012, p. 118). Such accounts may raise the question whether visitors paid serious attention to the music at all.
The academic debate on the eighteenth century's modes of listening mainly centres around operas. However, as these discussions of concert behaviour provide an analysis of this period's social and musical context, these theories may shed light on how listening behaviour in pleasure gardens can be understood. Cultural historian James Johnson traces the transformation of listening behaviour between 1750 and 1850. In this period the Parisian audience made a transition from inattentiveness to absorbed listening. Johnson asserts that musical meaning is "shaped by dominant aesthetic and social expectations that are themselves historically structured" (Johnson, 1995, p. 2). Thus, listening is historically informed and subject to change. First, the structure of society shapes expectations and generates social rules of how an audience receives and interprets music. Based on newspaper articles and opera goers' memoirs, Johnson derives that the opera's main function was that of a structured hierarchical social setting where the court and aristocracy put themselves on display and carefully observed the audience instead of the spectacles taking place on stage. The opera's boxes were instrumental in the display of social power, as visibility was an indicator of one's social standing. In Johnson's view, the opera was governed by courtly etiquette, reputation and it was a social duty to regularly attend performances. As guests constantly moved around the various boxes and made conversation, Johnson concludes that the music served as a mere ornament to the setting. Observing other guests was part of a learning process to adapt the conventions celebrated by the aristocracy and royals. Careful examination of others' reactions became a means to determine which musical performances to praise or critique.
Second, reigning aesthetic expectations further hindered attentive listening: "Music washed over the senses and seldom touched the souls of spectators in the mid-eighteenth century. In fact, their understanding of musical expression virtually excluded the possibility of profound musical experience" (Johnson, 1995, p. 35). Johnson claims that music was subordinate to plot and text, with the consequence that music had no meaning if it was not connected to an image or words. "It followed that if you couldn't describe what the music meant, it had no meaning" (Johnson, 1995, p. 36).
Historian William Weber argues against notions that favouring nineteenth century listening behaviour over eighteenth century concert behaviour and modes of listening. Weber problematizes Johnson's assertion that eighteenth century listening habits had little to do with serious music appreciation as such judgements project today's historically informed idealized concert behaviour as the sole mode of true listening. Weber therefore suggests a different approach entailing the contextualisation of eighteenth century musical culture without distorting these accounts by applying today's ideologies on concert- and listening behaviour. By examining the social and musical contexts, Weber avoids the categorical problem of questioning whether people listened or not during this century. Weber emphasizes that today's notions of classical music and concert experience are historically informed by nineteenth century ideological constructs about listening and that early music can only be rightfully understood when these musical cultures are analysed in their own terms (Weber, 1997, p. 679).
Weber argues against Johnson's claim that the sole function of the eighteenth-century opera was a meeting place, where the aristocracy gathered as part of a social duty to take part in the 'seeing and being seen routine'. The rigid distinction between amusement and absorption is an over-simplified account of musical cultures according to Weber. Eighteenth-century musical culture was indeed closely linked to a social context, however, this does not imply that concertgoers did not pay serious attention to music. The key to understanding eighteenth-century concert behaviour is to examine how the life of the upper classes was integrated in society in both social and musical terms. First, Weber remarks that music was more accessible to a broad audience as it was less knowledge intensive as today's classical concerts. While a distinction was made between artful and mundane music, both the opera as well as concerts of folk songs were attended by a mixture of social classes. Second, in spite of the opera serving as a social setting and a meeting place, this does not indicate that opera goers did not listen to the music at all. The modes of listening just do not meet today's standards of absorption.
As stated in the beginning of this chapter, pleasure gardens were part of the commercialization of high culture. Being one of the first public venues to offer musical entertainment to anyone who could afford the relatively low entrance fee, it can be argued that the majority of the pleasure gardens visitors did not have any concert or opera experience. Lacking a frame of reference, there was no listening and concert behaviour for the larger public to mimic. While members of the elitist classes regularly attended the opera, lower classes lacked such experiences. Therefore it is highly contestable to apply Johnson's views to pleasure gardens. Weber, in turn, provides a better starting point as it allows to examine listening behaviour in its social and historical context. Weber (2008) remarks that eighteenth-century musical culture is characterised by miscellany. The variation of Vauxhall's musical program, for instance, fits in this trend; the audience was accustomed to contrasts in concert programs and expected variations between pieces such as alterations between instrumental, vocal and genres in pieces. Miscellany additionally entailed social etiquette, as concertgoers were expected to adapt to the varying wishes of a broad audience with different tastes in music: "This mixture reflected the presumption that different tastes, expectations, and social behaviors would make common company within inclusive programs" (Weber, 2008, p. 16).
The analysis of the pleasure gardens history and social context shows that the meaning of these venues and music should not be framed in terms of listening, but in terms of musicking. Applying Small's concept of musicking to eighteenth century pleasure gardens, it is possible to identify a number of activities, relations and features of the location which are all involved in the process of musicking, such as the gardens' architecture, curiosities, musical and entertainment program, the act of seeing and being seen and the diverse set of social relationships and rules governing the limited social intermingling.
Conclusion
The DRM served as an excellent case study to elucidate Small's concept of musicking. The combination of the festival's location, the numerous activities and relationships show that the construction of the meaning of music involves many different elements. Simultaneously, the festival incorporates assumptions, expectations and activities stemming from both the concert hall regime and pleasure gardens. Although the organisation is not aware of the history of eighteenth-century pleasure gardens, the similarities between these venues and the DRM are striking. First, the location of the park serves as a stage for the event; a decor that aids in enabling the creation of a fantasy world. Both the pleasure gardens and the DRM are perceived as an event or venue to meet acquaintances and friends to enjoy music, cuisine and drinks. The spectacle of seeing and being seen is another striking similarity, although this spectacle takes a different form in the twenty-first century where visitors can shamelessly observe and admire one another and take pictures of other guests. While both pleasure gardens and the DRM imply social inclusivity, this notion is contestable. A careful examination of the behaviour of the elite classes in pleasure gardens makes it evident that social mingling was not a common practice in these venues. The DRM may be different in this regard, yet the audience survey shows that the majority of the festival's visitors has followed a higher education, which raises questions about the social diversity of the festival's public.
Interestingly, listening and concert behaviour at the DRM have roots in both the concert hall regime of attentive listening as well as in the pleasure gardens' promenade concerts. Attentive listening has been the normative listening regime since the nineteenth century. The silent zones surrounding the large podia facilitate attentive listening. The fact that guests sometimes point out to other guests that they should be quiet in the silent zone additionally shows that the DRM also raises expectations of attentive listening similar to concert halls. The Romantic period, the DRM's prime focus, predates the strict concert hall regime and the festival unintentionally incorporates historically influenced practices of listening rooted in the eighteenth century. Comparable to pleasure gardens, the DRM features several stages and in the specific case of Rotterdam the pop-up stages are meant to facilitate different modes of listening as well as a way to retain guests' attention. The pleasure gardens' miscellany in concert program can be more or less found at the DRM as well, where classical music, both instrumental and vocal, is alternated by other genres such as gypsy music and tango.
The case study of the DRM and the history of the pleasure gardens show that the experience and meaning of music stretch beyond notions of music as an abstract object or collection of works. Musicking encompasses a large number of elements such as location, activities and relationships that are vital to the experience and the meaning of the verb 'to musick'. Today's notions of classical music and modes of listening imply a hierarchy of music, where classical music festivals are perceived as an intermediary step to concert hall attendance. In the light of musicking however, this hierarchy is contestable. Following Weber's position that eighteenth century concertgoers' did in fact pay attention to the music, I assert that the meaning and experience of musicking can take on diverse forms and that the creation of hierarchy is a mere projection and favouritism of one experience of musicking above all others. This is by no means an attack on the contemporary concert hall culture, as attending a concert in a concert hall is another example of musicking. What I do propose is the appreciation of different types of musicking in its own right.
Weber's remark that "The post-Romantic point of view (...) distrusts any fusion between music and mundane social activities which are felt to violate the integrity of musical experience" (Weber, 1997, p. 681) is applicable to the DRM and similar classical music festivals. Instead of devaluing such events based on their fusion of various musical and social activities, I propose to celebrate and appreciate these unique musicking experiences.
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Images
Bowles, T. (1754). Rotunda at Ranelagh Gardens [engraving]. Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Rotunda_at_Ranleigh_T_Bowles_1754.jpg
Dag van de Romantische Muziek. (2012). Retrieved from http://www.dagvanderomantischemuziek.nl/nl/photos/album/photoalbum_id/281#prettyPhoto[gallery]/1/
Interviews
Gert Geluk. 1995 to 2013, manager Communication and Marketing at the Limburgs Symfonie Orkest. 2013: head of Communication and Marketing Philharmonie Zuidnederland. Wednesday May 7, 2014.
Hans Mosselman. Director of Stichting CultuurBrigade. Friday May 16, 2014.