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When we talk about George Augustus Polgreen Bridgetower (1778–1860) we tend to leap from one dazzling highlight to another: the child prodigy who, at age ten, performed a Viotti concerto in Paris before an audience that included Thomas Jefferson, to the electrifying 1803 Vienna premiere of Beethoven’s Violin Sonata No. 9 in A major, Op. 47—the fiery work later rededicated as the “Kreutzer” Sonata after the famous falling-out between the two musicians.

The Augarten was not merely a picturesque garden. Established as a public park in 1775 by Emperor Joseph II, it was one of the first civic green spaces in Europe. At its entrance, an inscription still proclaims it a place “Allen Menschen gewidmeter Erlustigungs-Ort von ihrem Schätzer.” The translation is eloquent: Place of recreation dedicated to all people by their admirer.

It feels profoundly meaningful to reunite with Rita after all these years — to extend the conversation that began in Rita Dove: An American Poet into a new creative horizon. Much has changed since we first filmed together, but the essence remains: a shared belief that art — whether written, sung, or filmed — has the power to make history visible and to make the invisible resonate.

This post draws on recent scholarly analysis of Haydn's employment contracts and Rita Dove's groundbreaking work in "Sonata Mulattica" to explore the intersection of servitude, genius, and race in classical music history.

Across painting, music, and the decorative arts, the exotic functioned as a field of projection—a way for Western culture to measure itself against the imagined other. Lévy’s brush, Tiffany’s glass, Bridgetower’s bow: each transformed foreignness into beauty, light, and sound that spoke as much about the Western imagination as about the East it sought to evoke.