For the true flower of German Rococo we must go to Munich. Here in 17^0 Francois de Cuvillies, Court Architect to the Elector Maximilian III Joseph, was commissioned to add a theatre to his master’s palace, the Residenz [Pis. 76—8]. Few architectural careers can have followed a stranger course than that of Cuvillies. Born in Flanders in 169^, he had come to Bavaria as a professional dwarf, then trained as an engineer, and had then been sent to Paris to study architecture under Jean Francois Blondel. He returned to Munich as the ambassador of a new style, uniting in a seemingly effortless way the energy and richness of the Germans with French daintiness and discipline. He remained essentially a decorator, unable to challenge his German contemporaries (Neumann, Fischer, Zimmermann) in pure architectural virtuosity, the moulding and mani­pulation of space.

To create the Residenztheater some of the best craftsmen in Germany were appointed to assist him—the court joiner, Adam Pichler, to do the woodwork, the sculptors Joachim Dietrich and Johann Baptist Straub, the painter Johann Baptist Zimmermann. Stage machinery was in the hands of an Italian, Paolo Gasparo. The new theatre opened three years later, on 12 October 17^3, with Ferrandini’s II Catone in Utica.

Cuvillies’ ground-plan is not of any special interest. His auditorium was the conventional U-shape, with four levels of galleries. His proscenium arch rested on pairs of red imitation marble columns, with the stage itself projecting as far as the outer pair, and the ceiling above them diminishing in perspective (the inner pair were therefore slightly shorter than the outer). The space between each pair held two boxes, so that it belonged equally to the actors and the audience. In the modern, rebuilt, theatre, this space has been given to the orchestra, which originally sat further forward. Staircases were functional rather than ostentatious and, apart from the auditorium, only the apartment behind the Elector’s box received any elaborate decoration. As there was no space behind the stage for the actors, their rooms and those of the property men and scene painters lay along the sides of the theatre behind the boxes. All these arrangements were swept away when the theatre was rebuilt on a different site (though still within the Residenz) in the 19^05.

The distinctive glory of the Residenztheater is its decoration, conceived by Cuvillies and executed by artists of superlative talent. Its leitmotiv is the arabesque curve, which everywhere accompanies and softens, though it never conceals, the main architectural lines of the building. The second tier is the most lavishly treated. Swags of gilded fruit and foliage hang above the boxes, which are separated from one another by caryatid figures ending in candelabra. Over the balustrades crimson velvet drapery, edged with gold, has apparently been carelessly thrown. The climax of the whole scheme is the Elector’s own box [Pi. 78]. Supported on two over life-size caryatids and framed by fantastic golden palms, it is surmounted by a blazon of heraldic motifs, cupids and crowns, while an angel leans out into space and blows a long golden trumpet. The theatre is lit by candelabra projecting from the galleries at each level and by chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The stalls were slightly raked but for special occasions it could still be turned into a ballroom by raising the floor of the auditorium to the level of the stage.

The details of this whole rich ensemble are a constant delight, overflow­ing with wit and unexpected invention. Here a Turk’s head, with flowing moustache and golden turban, peeps out from a cartouche; there a spray of wheat or oak leaves climbs unnoticed over a moulding, or a group of perfectly carved pipes, drums and violins hangs waiting for some exuberant musical putti to snatch them up. Not all of it is original. The theatre was gutted in 1944, but enough of its decoration was saved to make possible what has been probably the most loving and successful of all postwar restorations. Only the ceiling, by Johann Baptist Zimmermann, has been lost for ever.

Two other court theatres, as far apart as Sweden and Bohemia but completed in the same year, 1766, share the distinction of still possessing their original stage machinery and painted sets. The first is part of the Summer Palace of Drottningholm, five miles outside Stockholm, and was built on the initiative of Queen Lovisa Ulrika, the wife of King Adolf Fredrik and the sister of Frederick the Great [PI. 79]. Her architect was a Swede, Carl Fredrik Adelcrantz, but she drew upon French talent (Adrien Masreliez) for the painted decoration and Italian (Donate Stopani) for the machinery. The auditorium, while far simpler than the other examples described in this chapter, is more ingeniously planned for the convenience of the monarch. The whole front half of the room, which swells laterally in plan to form a curved space wider than the stage, becomes in effect the royal box. Here the royal family had an intimate view of the stage, but were separated from the rest of the audience, who occupied a single ramp of seats at the back. There are no galleries, but if complete privacy was required the king could retreat into one of two corner boxes which were completely screened by lattice grilles.

Drottningholm remains miraculously untouched, the only major alter­ation being a new foyer added in 1791 by the French architect Louis Jean Desprez. After neglect in the nineteenth century, it was re-opened in 1922, using the original furniture, the original movable stage (worked by a giant windlass), the original hoists and pulleys above the wings, and the original scenery, of which over thirty complete sets survive, by such artists as Carlo
Bibiena, Johann Pasch and L. J. Desprez. Zeal for authenticity now goes to such lengths that the members of the orchestra, usherettes, and programme-
sellers wear eighteenth-century costume and powdered wigs. The former dressing-rooms house a notable museum of theatrical history.