which carries the expression of long-restrained feeling to its highest point. Throughout a restless, hurrying Allegro agitato (6-8) the voice has almost always interrupted passages, and seldom tries its powers in a sustained note or a melodious phrase. The orchestra remains in continual motion; at first a tender violin passage is introduced, then the oboes and bassoons alternate with each other, and with the voice. The whole is a single continuous thread of lovely melody and richly varied harmony, with one fundamental idea as its starting-point, and upon it rests the magic of grace and beauty. To the expression of excited passion follows that of resignation; both are manifestations of a nature tender and noble indeed, but neither grand nor strong.
Mozart's correct judgment led him to moderate the expression of passion in Sandrina to a degree befitting the heroine of a comic opera, while giving due prominence to her dignity and grace when she appears as the gardener's girl. She displays her true self most unreservedly in the cavatina (11) in which she bewails her unhappy love:—
Sonnleithner has noted the happy effect produced by the entrance of the voice, not at the beginning of the theme, but a little behind it, as if roused from abstraction:—
{"LÀ FINTA GIARDINIERA"—BELFIORE.}
[See Page Image] A gentle spirit, not altogether lost in sadness, yet not able entirely to throw it off, is in Sandrina united to tender womanly grace, and both find due expression in the music. Even when she plays the gardener's girl, she does it with pleasant mirth never sinking to vulgarity. The air (4) in which she undertakes the defence of women against men to Ramiro (a rondo with a lively coda, 6-8), is gay and sparkling, but not very pronounced in tone.
When she seeks by her cajoleries to appease the sulky Podestà without exactly telling him that she loves him, she reveals a certain amount of coquetry, and in her exaggerated expressions of dismay at his reproaches, approaches the buffo character; but even here the moderation, delicacy, and grace of Sandrina's character is in strong contrast to that of Serpetta.
Both the comic and the pathetic aspects are combined in the Contino Belfiore, whose burlesque character appears to have been excellently represented by the buffo Rossi. His attempt on Violante's life sets him before us as a man of passion; the wavering of his inclinations between Arminda and Violante is the less comical, since he expresses his admiration of Arminda's beauty with simple and manly OPERA BUFFA. dignity (6), but gives vent to his love for Sandrina, whom he recognises as Violante, in a fine outburst of true emotion. The conclusion of this song (15), being buffo in character, readjusts the situation. He has not remarked that Sandrina has gone out, and the Podestà taken her place, and he seizes the hand of the Podestà to kiss it; his confusion and annoyance required comic expression. He takes part elsewhere in comic scenes and situations; but his first appearance as a vain, supercilious coxcomb is misleading and inconsistent, and only intended to give occasion for a grand buffo air (8). The pride and loquacity with which Belfiore details his genealogy are wittily rendered by Mozart; but as a buffo song this evident concession to the taste of the singer and the public is without marked individuality. Still less happy is the idea of making the Contino, and afterwards Sandrina, go crazy. Madness is only representable in music in so far as sympathy with it as a misfortune can be aroused, which deprives it of any comic effect; the absurdities which excite to laughter cannot be rendered musically, and only in rare cases can music produce an analogous effect. In the second finale, when Sandrina and Belfiore, surrounded by bitter enemies, suddenly imagine themselves Arcadian shepherds, and sing shepherd songs, a contrast might be produced which would at least support the idea of insanity. But their mythological illusions: "Io son Medusa orribile! Io son Alcide intrepido!" could not be expressed by the music. In the terzet (24) Nardo, in order to escape the importunities of the crazy pair, points towards heaven, and tells them with increasing animation how the sun and moon quarrel, and the stars engage in love adventures; when he has set the pair gazing fixedly upwards, he makes off. Broadly represented, this gay, lively terzet must have made an effect, but it would have been equally comic had Nardo fixed their attention on anything else, since the effect depends on the vivacity and humour with which the composer grasps the situation, and withdraws the attention of the audience from the nonsense which the poet has put into the mouths of the characters.
But even this was impossible in the accompanied recitative during which Belfiore loses his senses before the eyes of the "LA FINTA GIARDINIERA"—BUFFO PARTS. audience (19). At first, when he is beset by contending emotions, music is in its place; when he believes himself to be dead and in Elysium, Mozart has certainly constructed a characteristic, well-rounded movement, but a specific expression of the illusion it is not and cannot be. The song in which, restored to his senses, he expresses his joy at still living (in tempo di minuetto) is lively, and appeals to the senses like dance music, but after what has gone before it makes no comic impression.
The first bar of this—[See Page Image] reminds us, as Sonnleithner has remarked, both of the minuet and trio of the Symphony in D major (385 K.), and of a couple of bars in the first allegro of the Symphony in E flat major (543 K.).
The Podestà is a genuine buffo, proud, amorous, consequential in virtue of his office, easily excited, easily perplexed, but good-natured at bottom; the genuine type of a comic old man; there was probably a personal reason for making this character tenor instead of bass, though the course was not an unusual one. 24 The musical conception of the character is that of the traditional buffo. The first air (3) depicts, according to a fashion of the time, different instruments which are heard in the orchestra in a concerted accompaniment. This song has nothing in common with the situation or with the character of the Podestà, and is an interpolation for the German version.
The Italian text contains a song for Sandrina, "Dentro il mio petto io sento," which Mozart composed, as we learn from a letter of his father's (December 2, 1780), who had it copied for Schikaneder. The other two songs (17, 25) are genuine buffo—lively, rapidly uttered—a continual struggle between false dignity, anger, vexation, and perplexity.
The servants are also, according to custom, comic OPERA BUFFA. personages. Serpetta contrasts with Sandrina in want of refinement; disappointed in her hopes of the Podestà, she becomes envious and spiteful to every one, and especially to her lover, Nardo. Besides a neat, pretty little song, of which each character sings a verse (9), she has two songs (10, 20) of a distinctly soubrette character, gay and pleasing, not without grace, but as yet without the delicate wit with which Mozart later endowed his soubrettes.
Nardo, as the attached and faithful servant of Violante, displays an address which is inconsistent with his röle of the simple lover who pursues Serpetta in spite of all her ill-treatment. The first words of the mock-heroic air (5), "A forza di martelli il ferro si riduce," have suggested an accompaniment—[See Page Image] which gives the song a peculiarly rhythmical character. In the second air (14) the rondo form is employed with striking effect. Nardo seeks to win Serpetta's hand by compliments in different languages and styles, which form alternating interludes to the main theme; this is pretty enough, but the other jokes are obsolete.
The ensembles are of a far higher character than the solos, both as regards characterisation and musical execution.
The introduction is immediately connected with the overture, and borrows its lively chorus from the third movement, but its development is completely independent. The overture itself consists of an Allegro molto, precise in its subjects and execution, but fresh and cheerful, and of a somewhat tedious Andante grazioso.
Sandrina, Serpetta, Ramiro, the Podestà, and Nardo, are discovered in the garden, awaiting the arrival of the wedding guests, and their festive mood is expressed by a joyous choral movement. Then each character in a short soliloquy explains the position of affairs, and indicates the main elements of the plot. In these soli, which pass from one to the other in the same tempo, and without a pause, Mozart "LA FINTA GIARDINIERA"—ENSEMBLES. has displayed his rare power of individualisation, and without the sacrifice of interdependence in the parts of a great whole. The moonstruck Ramiro, the amorous Podestà, the excitable, prying Serpetta—each is admirably touched off, without any disregard to unity of tone. The repetition of the first chorus, with which the piece concludes, is led up to by the accompaniment, and the whole forms as complete a musical rendering of the text as was possible.
The later ensembles belong immediately to the action of the piece. At the close of the third act Sandrina and Belfiore awake from refreshing sleep healed of their madness. Belfiore seeks acceptance of Sandrina, who now acknowledges herself to be Violante, but she, abashed at his declarations of love, bids him depart, and prepares to go herself. Neither, however, can summon resolution to part, and after several attempts, they sink at last in one another's arms, forgetful of all but their newly found happiness. This situation, somewhat coarsely rendered by the poet, has been transformed by the composer into an admirable piece of character-painting (27). A long accompanied recitative passes into an elaborate and effective Adagio, in which professions of love alternate with reproaches. The Andantino (3-8), which follows is lighter in tone, and well expresses alternations of repulsion and attraction. The oboes are employed with a charming effect of longing appeal to the words: "Cont. Lei mi chiàma?—Sandrina. Signor, nö. Lei ritoma?—Cont. Oibö, oibö!" Finally, the joy of the united pair flows forth in an Allegro, which gives full opportunity for display on the part of the singers. Especially to be admired is the art with which the intense and genuine expression of emotion is tempered by the timidity of the Count and the coquetry of Sandrina, in a happy union of the pathetic and the comic which keeps the whole within the limits of' opera buffa. The rapid winding-up of the plot in the recitative dialogue, and the short animated ensemble with which the opera concludes (28) are no doubt intended not to weaken the effect of the great duet.
The finales (12, 22) of the first and second acts are masterpieces; the separate characters act and react on each other OPERA BUFFA. in a way which is admirably true to life. Two conditions are essential to the elevation of such pieces into musical works of art; important points in the action or the characters must be brought out by prominent motifs, and the fundamental idea of the situation must be grasped and maintained in one motif which shall serve as a clue to the whole.
The task of the musician is the combination and elaboration of the detached elements into an interdependent whole, in which the laws of musical and dramatic art are in unconscious harmony; the master makes good his claim to the title by the depth with which he grasps the idea, by the delicacy with which he apportions the claims of individuals to independence, and by the strength and truth with which he gives life to his creations. Mozart's genius amply satisfies all these conditions. When there are few characters, and they are consequently brought nearer together, the characteristics of each are sharper and more detailed; but when the relations of the characters to each other are more involved, the musical grouping becomes more careful, so that, just as in an architectural masterpiece, the parts are merged in the whole. Each motif has its own peculiar expression, but is capable of such manifold effects of light and shade, that an oft-used motif in a new combination is as effective as if it appeared for the first time.
The form and style of opera buffa are maintained in all essential points, but with great freedom of treatment. The usual means are employed of the repetition of a short phrase with increasing intensity, the parlando while the orchestra carries on the motif, the comic effect produced by rapid speaking, sudden pauses, strong contrasts, &c.; but to these are added many traits of original invention.
In the earlier operas the boy's skill in the management of accepted forms was what we had chiefly to notice; here for the first time we are amazed at the originality of his musical powers. The wealth of characteristic, well-moulded, well-rounded melodies is quite as surprising as the organic dependence in which they mutually stand related to each other, not merely joined together. This fertility is of course "LA FINTA GIARDINIERA"—ORCHESTRA. more prominent as the development of the plot renders the musical elements more complicated; especially admirable is Mozart's power of giving character and suggestiveness to his melodies in their first and simplest form. One subject from the last Allegro but one of the first finale—[See Page Image] will not fail to remind the reader of one almost identical from the first finale of "Figaro." But if the mode of treatment of the simple motif in the two instances be compared, it will be clearly seen that inventive power does not consist merely in the combination of notes. That of the later opera is of course by far superior, but even the earlier leaves little to wish for in its wealth of harmonic variety, in its union with other subjects, and in the effect of climax produced by imitation in the several parts.
It may finally and with justice be maintained of the melodies of this opera that they, as well as the whole intellectual conception, are high above the ordinary level; their grace, delicacy, and purity—in short, their beauty—belongs to Mozart, and to him alone.
The orchestra is treated quite otherwise than in the opera seria. The individual peculiarity of each instrument is OPERA BUFFA. brought out, and tone-colouring as a means of characterisation is delicately and skilfully employed. In Sandrina's cavatina (22), for instance, the fine effect of the oboe and bassoon in contrast to the violin is due to the individualities of the instruments; in Ramiro's song (18) the treatment of the bassoon is original; and in the first finale an oboe solo comes in with startling effect (the Munich oboist, Secchi, was very famous). 25 The horns are also frequently made the means of effective tone-colouring; twice (13, 26) four horns are employed in a minor key to heighten the effect of a dramatic climax. More important than these detached instances is the altered relation of the orchestra to the whole work. 26 It no longer serves as an accompaniment in the sense of sustaining the voices and filling up necessary pauses; it is no longer a mere adjunct to the vocal parts, but takes its share in the effective working of the whole, filling out details which the vocal parts leave imperfect, and obeying not so much the requirements of the vocalist as the conditions of artistic perfection. This altered relationship required an altered organisation; each component part of the orchestra must have a distinct existence, so that each, according to its place and kind, might contribute to the general effect. The single example of the treatment of the basses will serve to make this clear. Hitherto the basses had served merely as the fundamental of the melody, indispensable indeed, but often clumsy and insignificant; but here, without losing their character as the ground-work of harmonic elaboration, they have an independent movement; they serve not only to support the superincumbent mass, but their quickening power sets in motion and gives the impulse to its formation.
By the side of these many excellencies the too great length of most of the pieces, especially of the songs, is felt as a defect throughout; a defect due, no doubt, to the taste of the time and to the youth of the composer. The influence of the broader form of the opera seria, and the pleasure of the public in the mere hearing of music, were combined with the fact that Mozart was not yet capable of that self-criticism which rejects all that is superfluous, even when it is good in itself.
It may well be conceived that the opera was performed with extraordinary success in Munich (1775), and that it soon attained pre-eminence among the most admired contemporary comic operas. Nissen informs us that it made little effect in Frankfort (1789); the clumsy German adaptation may have been in part to blame for this; but the chief cause was doubtless the altered taste of the public, brought about by the French operettas and Mozart's "Entführung."
THE last opera of the series we have been considering is the festival opera, "Il Re Pastore," composed in honour of the Archduke Maximilian, at Salzburg, in 1775, to the text of Metastasio (208 K.).
The characters and plot are as follows: 1 —
Alessandro, re di Macedonia.
Aminta, pastorello, amante d' Elisa, che, ignoto a se stesso, si scuopre poi l' unico legittimo erede del regno di Sidone.
Elisa, nobile ninfa di Fenicia, dell' antica stirpe di Cadmo, amante d' Aminta.
Tamiry principessa fuggitiva, figliuola del tiranno Stratone; in abito di pastorella, amante di Agenore.
Agenore, nobile di Sidone, amico di Alessandro, amante di Tamiri.
Alexander having conquered Sidon and slain the tyrant Strabo, determines to place on the throne Abdalonymus, 2 son of the last rightful king, who has been secretly brought up as a shepherd under the name of Aminta, by a faithful dependent of his father.
At the opening of the piece we find him in the midst of his flocks, while Elisa brings him the joyful tidings of the probable consent of her parents to their union. She has scarcely left him when Alexander, conducted by Agenore, enters, in order to convince himself if Aminta is worthy of the throne he intends to offer him; Aminta's virtuous moderation stands every test. While he is watering his flocks there enters Tamiri, Strabo's daughter, disguised as a shepherdess; Agenore extols to her Alexander's generosity, and promises to intercede on her behalf. The assurance of his faithful love consoles her, and she resolves to await his answer, concealed by Elisa. Elisa now enters, bearing to Aminta her father's full consent to their union; in the midst of their transport, Agenore makes Aminta acquainted with his destiny, hands him the crown, and summons him to the presence of Alexander. The lovers pledge their faith anew with much rejoicing.
In the second act, Elisa and Tamiri come to the camp of Alexander, in order to see their lovers. Tamiri, unable to overcome her fear, withdraws; Elisa seeks in vain to speak to Aminta, Agenore informing her that Aminta is occupied with more important concerns, at the same time that he respectfully reminds Aminta, who is impatient to find Elisa, of his duties as a monarch. At last Alexander appears and receives the grateful homage of Aminta, who expresses most virtuous resolutions for his future rule. On Alexander expressing regret that Tamiri should shun his presence, Agenore takes the opportunity of acquainting Alexander with her near approach. To Agenore's dismay Alexander resolves to unite her with Aminta. With the idea, however, that this will conduce to Tamiri's happiness, Agenore controls his desires, and counsels Aminta to renounce Elisa. Before the unwilling lover is convinced, Tamiri and Elisa enter, and, seeing their lovers stand confused and silent, believe them to be faithless.
At the opening of the third act, Aminta, after many scruples, informs Agenore of his determination to fulfil the duty which he believes himself to owe to Alexander. These tidings are carried by Agenore to Elisa, who refuses to doubt Aminta's truth, and will not be persuaded that submission to her fate will best prove her love for Aminta. Agenore's own constancy is put to a severer test when Tamiri vehemently accuses him of having deserted her for Aminta's sake, but he remains firm.
Then there appears before Alexander, who is preparing for the celebration of the union, first Tamiri, who declares her love for Agenore, and refuses to break her faith with him, even for the sake of a throne; then Elisa, who tells the claims she has on Aminta's heart; and finally Aminta himself, dressed as a shepherd, returns his crown to Alexander, being unable to renounce Elisa's love. Moved by all this nobleness and devotion, Alexander unites the lovers, reinstates Aminta as King of Sidon, and promises to conquer another realm for Agenore.
Metastasio wrote this opera in 1751 for performance at court by four maids of honour and a cavalier; 3 he paid due regard to fitting costumes, and to the virtue and nobility of each character. 4 The pains he took at the rehearsals were requited; 5 Bono's music was excellent, 6 the scenery and costumes most brilliant, the noble performers acquitted themselves to perfection, and all was applause and approbation. 7 No wonder that he recommended the piece to Farinelli as a suitable festival opera; 8 it has, in fact, been composed very often since. 9
It was considerably curtailed for representation at Salzburg. The second and third acts were compressed into one, whereby not only was the dialogue abridged, but several songs were omitted without serious injury to the text. There were other small alterations and some few additions, but nothing essential was disturbed. Instead of Aminta's first air (act 1, sc. 2) another was introduced with an accompanied recitative, and before the duet at the end of the first act an accompanied recitative was omitted. Instead of the short concluding chorus, a kind of finale was inserted, in which soli and tutti alternate. The part of Agenore was given to a tenor, 10 Aminta to the male soprano Consoli; beyond this we know nothing of the cast or of the performance.
Mozart's composition, of which the original score in two volumes of 284 pages has been preserved, has the same finish of execution and invention which was so marvellously seen in the "Finta Giardiniera"; but the conventionalities of form are far more of a hindrance here than in the previous MOZART'S "RE PASTORE." work. No scope was allowed for dramatic force or true passion; the work must be kept strictly within the limits of the festival opera. The Salzburg singers too, seem to have preferred the beaten track to any extraordinary displays of skill.
This is most apparent in the tenor part of Alexander. His three songs, whose commonplace virtuous reflections give little scope for musical treatment, have, like the regular bravura songs, a long ritornello, bravura passages, the shake at the end, the usual cadenza. In details, the effort to metamorphose the form is apparent; the second part appears as a second subject, and the passages are made more interesting by their harmonic treatment, and by the prominence given to the accompaniment. The melodies are better built up, they have more musical substance; the accompaniment takes up detached portions of the chief melodies, and gives a firmer connection to the parts. The words of the first air (4) give occasion for some of the then favourite musical painting; lightning, thunder, and rain are depicted by the orchestra, but without undue prominence. The second air (9) is interesting through the obbligato treatment of the wind instruments, the flute competing with the voice in passages. Joh. Bapt. Becke (b. 1743), who had been trained under Wendling to become an admirable flautist, was summoned from Munich for this performance. The third air (13) is in the serious conventional style, not wanting in dignity.
More individuality is given to the parts of Aminta and Elisa; at first the prevailing element is pastoral, as was usual in festival operas. The overture, consisting of one movement (Molto allegro) leads directly to Aminta's first song (1), by a pleasant pastoral melody. It is a simple shepherd's song characterised by its 6-8 time, and by the flute and horn accompaniment. For the better contentment of the singer (the soprano Consoli from Munich), his second song is a genuine bravura (3). In its division into a brilliant Allegro aperto (4-4), and an elegant Grazioso (3-8), as well as in details, the old style is apparent; but all is so much freer, fuller, and, in spite of its fragmentary "IL RE PASTORE"—THE DIFFERENT PARTS. construction, so much more connected, that one feels a new spirit floating through the obsolete forms. Aminta's last air (10), when he declares himself true to his love, shakes itself quite loose from the fetters. It has the rondo form; the principal theme, twice relieved by an interlude, recurs three times, and winds up with a coda. The beauty of this cantilene is enhanced by a violin solo (written doubtless for Brunetti) equally simple and tuneful in style. The muted strings accompany the principal subject with a slightly agitated passage; the wind instruments (two flutes, two English horns, two bassoons, and two horns) are treated independently, and as delicately and tenderly as the tone of the piece requires.
Elisa's first song (2) unites in a singular degree the pastoral with the bravura character: the noble lady depicts the happiness of living as a shepherdess near her beloved Aminta. The traditional form has been so skilfully modified, and an almost playful grace is so freshly and charmingly expressed, that this song may justly be placed on a level with some of Mozart's later concert songs. The second air (8) is more strictly according to rule; the situation does not lend itself to freedom of treatment, and Mozart has contented himself with composing a harmonious and effective song.
The duet between Elisa and Aminta at the close of the first act (7) is light and pleasing, surpassing former efforts of the same kind in its clever management of the voices and in the originality of its subject. It is a charming idea and an appropriate one, to carry on the subject of the Andante with altered rhythm into the Allegro.
The parts of Tamiri and Agenore are quite secondary, scarcely more than stop-gaps. Tamiri's first air (6) is a bravura song of the ordinary type, the second (11) is almost soubrette-like in its airy lightness. Agenore's first air (5) is tender and pleasing, not much in accord with the situation. His second air (12) is pathetic, in a minor key, and stands alone of its kind. Restless agitation is portrayed by a varied and striking harmony, emphasised by strongly accented chords for the wind instruments—four horns besides oboes and bassoons. But neither the character of Agenore nor the moralising words give any opening for pathos.
The finale consists of a brilliant four-part tutti movement, which is repeated entire, or in part, several times; passages for single voices are inserted, alternating cleverly and with a pleasing effect.
Mozart's evident longing to break loose from the fetters of conventionality and tradition is nowhere more apparent than in the accompaniment and in the orchestral movements, where we find a fulness and freedom of thought hitherto only shown in detached passages. Even when the old fashion is retained of employing only oboes and horns, there is an evident appreciation of the special powers of the instruments expressed, it may be, in a few notes. The orchestra has its own significance, and Mozart turns to account his intimate knowledge of the orchestra of opera seria. Trifling as these instrumental effects may appear, the main point, that instrumental music was henceforth to take an active part both in serious and comic opera, was one of great importance in the history of their development.
WE must here cast a glance at a number of separate songs composed by Mozart, either for insertion in operas or for performance at concerts.
The earliest of them, composed for the two Licenze at Salzburg (p. 99), and those belonging to the first Italian journey, call for no special remark. Yet there occurs in the air composed at Rome, "Se tutti i mali miei" (183 K.), a change of key produced by enharmomic progression which deserves to be noticed:— BUFFO SONGS, 1775-76. [See Page Image] No such songs are known to belong to the years immediately following, but in 1775 we find several composed at Salzburg, probably for performance by foreign vocalists visiting the city. Two tenor airs belong to May, 1775. In one of them, described as "Aria buffa" (210 K.) the singer is supposed to be flattering some one to his face with the greatest fluency, while he makes all sorts of rude remarks aside:—
The orchestra maintains a single theme (Allegro assai) without intermission, and the voice is almost throughout parlando in rapid vivacity; the union of a certain amount of dignity with burlesque fluency of tongue is very comical, the whole song being simply conceived and easily and consistently worked out. This song could only have been meant for performance on the stage, and the second (209 K.), "Si mostra la sorte propizia all' amante," is scarcely of importance enough for a concert-room. It is the complaint of a bashful lover, but has so little pathos as to be only SONGS. suitable for opera buffa. It is simple both in design and execution, and may have been inserted to suit the powers of some singer in the place of another song. It was no doubt also for insertion in an opera buffa that an air for Dorina (217 K.), "Voi avete un cor fidele," was composed (October 26, 1775); it is in the style of a soubrette, superior to those of its kind in the "Finta Giardiniera," and equal to Despina's songs in "Cosi fan tutti." An Andantino grazioso and an Allegro, the latter considerably elaborated, are both repeated, then a few bars of the Andantino recur, and the whole is wound up by rather a long Coda in allegro. The exact repetition of both movements makes the effect of the whole somewhat stiff, but the details are fresh, animated, and very characteristic.
The tone of melting tenderness at the beginning, the mocking parlando of the questions, and finally the fervency of the words, "Ah! non credo," are so strikingly expressed, and the whole effect is so cheerful and even droll, that we cannot fail to recognise the hand of a master of his art. The subjects and the passages in the allegro are neat and graceful, and the orchestral parts are lively and appropriate.
A tenor song (256 K.), "Clarice cara mia sposa," composed for Signor Palmini, September, 1776, is a true theatrical buffo air, and bears lively testimony to Mozart's comic talent. A Capitano prates nonsensically, with much swagger, of how he will have his own way in spite of everybody; a Don Timoteo seeks in vain to interrupt the flow of his talk, which seems to run over in an unintermittent succession of triplets falling like heavy rain, and, as it were, drenching the hearer in an instant.
The monotonous parlando is provided with just so much of melody as to indicate that it is sung, not spoken. The orchestra maintains a very simple subject—[See Page Image] with varied harmonies, in a light, even sketchy manner, but with considerable musical interest. Even the few words in ALTO SONG, 1776. recitative, thrown in by Don Timoteo, do not allow the singer to take breath, and only serve to make the next paroxysm still more comical.
Another song, composed in the same month for the alto Fortini, may have been intended for performance at a concert. Mozart justly considered this song worthy to live, for he writes from Vienna (April 12, 1783) to beg that the rondo for an alto voice may be sent to him which he had composed when the Italian troupe were at Salzburg. The idea is the usual one of the leave-taking of a disconsolate lover. The introduction is a not very long, but an expressive recitative. The transition from this to the air itself is charming and very touching; it is the involuntary expression of the pain of parting welling out from the innermost depths of the heart:—[See Page Image]
Both the movements of the song, Andante moderato and Allegro assai, are repeated; then the Andante recurs for the third time, makes its way through an Allegretto to the Allegro assai, and from this a subject is selected, which leads through an effective crescendo to a pause on the SONGS. seventh. Then the opening bars of the Andante are repeated, stop short, and the song is rapidly concluded 'by the Allegro. The hesitation and irresolution of the lover, who cannot bring himself to depart, find ready expression in this change of movement. A deep, calm, and restrained emotion, corresponding admirably to the character of an alto voice, is well portrayed by the simple, unornamented song, interrupted only by the stronger accents of intense grief. The orchestral accompaniment is so managed as skilfully to heighten the peculiar effect of an alto voice.
Repeated mention is made in the letters of the year 1777, and afterwards, of a scena composed for Madame Duschek. 1 In the summer of 1777, Josepha Duschek, a singer and pianoforte-player of celebrity, and a young, vivacious woman, came for a visit from Prague to Salzburg. The foundation was laid of a friendship with Wolfgang, of which we shall frequently have occasion to speak. The scena in question is probably the grand aria of Andromeda (272 K.), "Ah, lo previdi," belonging to August, 1776, not long before his departure from Salzburg, and one of the greatest compositions of the kind. An agitated recitative is followed by a long, elaborate Allegro, expressive of the passion of a brave and noble mind. Scorn for perfidy overpowers even pain at the loss of the beloved one; tones which seem to scorch and wither pour forth like glowing metal on the betrayer; then comes a subject which has already made itself heard more than once in the orchestra as a cry of suppressed pain, and this leads to a gentler mood; grief for the lost love is expressed in a beautiful recitative, and dies away into calm and composed melancholy with a Cavatina, which concludes the scena.
The psychological truth of the details, the blending of the transitions, the unity of the tone, are qualities quite as much to be admired in this song as the musical originality and skill "AH, LO PREVIDI," 1777—LIEDER. displayed in its composition. The last movement is perhaps a little spun out; although the strain of long-continued violent emotion seems to require a correspondingly gradual cessation.
The orchestra is as simply managed as in the earlier songs; for wind instruments only horns, bassoons and oboes are employed, with, more seldom, flutes; in the recitatives there are only stringed instruments. 2
It is indicative of the taste of the time that among so many vocal compositions the song proper (lied) seldom or never appears. Five very simple Lieder with clavier accompaniments belong to the earlier Salzburg epoch (147-151 K.); they are more pedantic than any other of the compositions, and interest us chiefly through the words by Günther and Canitz, which Mozart has selected for composition.
HE years of Mozart's development at Salzburg were fruitful not only of operatic compositions, but of others which arose from the circumstances of his residence there. First among these stands church music.
Church music had long been fostered at Salzburg, and was especially encouraged by Archbishop Sigismund; his severe and world-contemning piety caused him to keep the service of the church continually before the eyes both of singers and composers. The prospect of a moderate pension induced many clever artists to settle in Salzburg, in spite of the poor payment they received for their services. Sigismund's successor,
Hieronymus, extended his parsimony even to the members of the Kapelle, whom he estranged by his overbearing manners; on the whole, music rather declined than advanced under his rule, 3 although he cared more than Sigismund for the splendour of his court. 4
FIFTEEN choristers were maintained at the cost of the Archbishop in the Kapellhaus, and educated by special instructors. They afterwards entered the choir as singers or passed into the service of the court; if they showed extraordinary talent, they were sent to finish their training in Italy, and then took their place as solo singers. 3 Archbishop Sigismund allowed the male sopranos to die out, and did not replace them with others; on the other hand he sent the daughter of the cathedral organist, Maria Magd. Lipp, to be educated as a singer in Italy, and on her return in 1762 he appointed her court singer; she soon afterwards married Michael Haydn, lately arrived at Salzburg. In 1778 Hieronymus again took a male soprano into his service, Ant. Ceccarelli,CHURCH MUSIC. a singer of moderate powers and bad moral character.
The orchestra belonging to the choir was an ample one for the time, and was strengthened by a trumpet band for the support of the voices in the church. There were further two bands of six trumpets and drums, which did not properly belong to the court, but to the chamberlain's office, and which ranked between the equerries and the lackeys. 4 But no one was taken into this service who could not also, at need, strengthen the stringed instruments.
In 1762, when Lolli was kapellmeister, and Leopold Mozart vice-kapellmeister, Joh.Michael Haydn 5 (1737-1806), the younger brother of Joseph, was appointed concertmeister and director of the orchestra, on the recommendation of a MICHAEL HAYDN. nephew of Archbishop Sigismund, at Grosswardein, where Haydn had been kapellmeister since 1757. The personal intercourse between the families of Haydn and Mozart was not over friendly. Haydn was fond of sitting over a glass of beer or wine, which was all the more reprehensible in the sight of the temperate and conscientious Mozart, since it caused frequent neglect of duty.
"Who do you think," he writes to Wolfgang (December 29,1777), "is appointed organist at the Holy Trinity? Herr Haydn! Every one laughs. He is an expensive organist; after every litany he drinks a quartern of wine, and he sends Lipp to the extra services, who drinks too." (June 29, 1778): "This afternoon Haydn played the organ for the litany and the Te Deum (at which the Archbishop was present), but so badly that we were all horrified.... Haydn will drink himself to death soon; or at least, being lazy enough already, he will become still lazier the older he gets." 6
The conduct of Frau Haydn also must have been objectionable. Wolfgang writes mockingly to Bullinger (August 7, 1778): "It is quite true that Haydn's wife is ill; she has carried her rigours too far; there are few like her! I only wonder that she has not lost her voice long ago through her constant scourgings, wearing of sackcloth, prolonged fasts, and midnight prayers." Neither was Haydn's cultivation such as to cause L. Mozart to wish for nearer intercourse between the families. "I should like to hear him speak Italian in Italy," he writes (December 4, 1777); "the people would certainly say, 'Questo è un vero Tedesco!"' 7 Personal difference and trifling jealousies, such as easily arise in small communities, may have had some influence on this unfavourable criticism of Michael Haydn; it did not extend, however, to his merits as an artist. It is true that L. Mozart was of opinion when Michael Haydn, in 1787, composed the opera "Andromeda e Perseo," that he had no talent for CHURCH MUSIC. dramatic music, and that his principal songs might have been written for a choir-boy. But he praised, in strong terms, the entr'acte music for Zaire, which Haydn had composed in 1777, and analysed it carefully, telling his son that the Archbishop had done him the honour to say to him at table, that he could not have believed Haydn capable of composing such music; and that instead of beer he should drink nothing but Burgundy. Haydn received a reward of six kronthaler (October 1 and October 9, 1777). But when L. Mozart writes to his son: "Herr Haydn is a man whose musical merits you will not deny" (September 24, 1778), he is referring to his church music, which Wolfgang was in the habit of copying for study. Writing from Vienna, he asks for "small paper, Eberlin's Counterpoint, bound in blue, and some of Haydn's things"; 8 and shortly after (March 12, 1783): "The 'Tres sunt' (M. Haydn's) is in score, in my handwriting." He wanted these things for the Sunday performances at Van Swieten's, and asked also for Michael Haydn's latest fugue. "The 'Lauda Sion,'" he writes (March 12, 1783), "was a great success; the fugue, 'In Te Domine speravi,' was much admired, as also the 'Ave Maria' and 'Tenebrae.'" Among Mozart's remains were found two fugues, 'Pignus futuræ gloriæ,' copied by his own hand from Michael Haydn's Litanies.
The cathedral organist, appointed in 1751, was Anton Cajetan Adlgasser (1728—1777), a pupil of Eberlin, who had been sent by the Archbishop to study in Italy, a first-rate organ-player and accompanist, whose sacred compositions were afterwards performed and highly appreciated at Salzburg. Less remarkable was the second organist, Franz Ign. Lipp, Haydn's father-in-law.
The kapellmeister and organist did not confine themselves to conducting performances of church music: they made it a point of honour to provide suitable music for special festival occasions. At such time new compositions were considered indispensable; indeed, throughout the year a constant variety of music was sought to be provided. This activity in church music was of the greatest service to young composers, who never wanted an opportunity for bringing out new compositions, nor for learning by hearing and comparing.
It was not the less beneficial in the way of training that they were obliged to keep within the limits of certain clearly defined forms, and to be content with the often scanty means which they found ready to hand. Through the influence of transmitted customs and individual peculiarities, as well as of the taste of those in authority, local traditions grew up, whose narrow rules hindered freedom of development. Such control is most irksome in church matters, wherein all, even what is in itself unimportant, must be considered as partaking of the sanctity of the whole. The counterbalancing gain of such training is technical finish, the indispensable foundation for the development of genius, with which alone can any effort to break loose from what is false in tradition be successful.
Mozart found the rules and forms of church music as clearly defined as those of the opera. Both had been formed in the Neapolitan school, and the impulses given up each had been in the same direction. The turning-point was the introduction of melodies which had their own significance as expressions of emotion, without regard to their harmonic or contrapuntal treatment. No sooner had melody gained recognition in opera and cantata, as the natural and CHURCH MUSIC. legitimate form of musical expression, than it made a way for itself into the church by means of oratorio. The simple grandeur of the older church music (particularly that of the Roman school, with Palestrina as its representative) depended chiefly on the fact that the chorus of voices was treated as an organic whole, of which no one part could be recognised as a distinct entity apart from the rest. The impression made by such music resembles that of the sea. Wave follows upon wave, and each one seems to be like the last; yet underlying the apparent monotony there exists an ever-varied life, an invincible strength, manifesting itself alike in peaceful calm and raging storm, and filling the mind with a sense of sublimity and grandeur, without satiety and without fatigue. But so soon as one melody was distinguished above the rest the union and equality of the voices was disturbed. Separate voices became more or less prominent as occasion required; and it could not fail to follow that the other voices should be employed merely to fill up and support the principal melody. A certain amount of independence and character might indeed be given to the accompanying voices by skilful management, but the principle remains unaltered, so long as a melody and its accompaniment are in question.
The change became more marked when instrumental music gained admission into the church. At first the organ and trumpets were employed merely to support and strengthen the voices. But when stringed instruments, and by degrees the various wind instruments of the orchestra, came into use in churches, they gradually adopted in church music, as in secular, the part of accompaniment to the voices. This tendency was most apparent of course in solo singing; but a manner of orchestral accompaniment to the choruses was gradually elaborated which could not fail to influence the treatment of the voice parts. The use of the severest contrapuntal method had hitherto been considered an essential condition and embellishment of church music; but on this point also an alteration of opinion and taste gained gradual ground.
The perfection of contrapuntal treatment, consisting in the absolute freedom and independence of the several parts, COUNTERPOINT IN CHURCH MUSIC. with their due correlation, can only be obtained by strict obedience to well-defined laws; added to which must be a firm conception of some simple fundamental idea whose many-sided development shall give unity and cohesion to the whole work. This form of composition is therefore peculiarly appropriate to the delivery of serious and weighty ideas; it is however but a form, and can be endued with life and significance only by the matter which it contains, and by the spirit which animates it. In old times the madrigal served to illustrate contrapuntal forms in secular music; and even in the present day canons and fugues, sometimes with comic effect, sometimes giving expression to very varied emotions, are often so skilfully constructed that the uninitiated have no suspicion of the artistic learning with the effect of which they are charmed. Although counterpoint is in itself neither spiritual nor ecclesiastical, it is conceivable that in proportion as secular music freed itself from the trammels, the error should arise of imagining severity of form and structure to be peculiarly appropriate to church music. This identification of counterpoint with ecclesiastical ideas caused its development to proceed side by side with those other forms which had made good their footing in church music. The opposition which was felt to exist between severe methods and methods not severe led to a compromise; certain parts of the liturgical text were treated contrapuntally, and others freely. The proportions depended greatly on personal and local influences, but the main points of the division were decided by the Neapolitan school.
The moral tendency of this change of construction must not be overlooked. The free treatment of melody gave to subjective emotion, with its ever-varying alternations, a suitable method of musical expression, and an art which was developing in this direction must have had extraordinary influence. The effort to make church music subject to this influence was the necessary consequence of a newly awakened life in art. The musician felt himself impelled to represent religious emotion in its full strength and truth, and with all the means at his command; the liturgy called forth the expression of the liveliest and most passionate emotion, it CHURCH MUSIC. offered opportunities for representing the most vivid dramatic situations; even the glory of worship called on its votaries to bring the splendour of music, as well as of painting and sculpture, into the Divine service. But the direction taken by the intellectual progress of that time, especially in Italy, was fraught with the dangers which invariably threaten an art which is struggling to free itself from tradition. The Church was tolerant towards the aspirations of art, so long as they afforded an effective means for her glorification, but she sternly repressed any efforts to break loose from the fetters of her ordinances and customs. On the other hand, men rejoiced in what had been so easily and rapidly gained, and satisfied themselves with the superficial freedom which they had attained. Proportionally was the development of a formalism in accordance with the Italian character, which seeks for beauty always in set forms, and demanded the adoption of such forms by church music. The opera was the model; thence sprang the moral and artistic element which became manifest in the forms of church music, appealing not so much to the faith of the congregation as to the taste of musical connoisseurs. Any attempt to transport operatic forms directly into church music was forbidden by the liturgical form of Divine service, to which the music must be subordinate. But the connection was severed with the old church modes from which ancient church music borrowed its subjects, treating them after a long since obsolete tone-system; and a merely devotional musical symbolism was renounced for the freedom of original creation. For though subjects were borrowed in later times from the old church modes, they lost their significance when detached, and were, besides, treated according to the new lights. Finally, the sway of the singer was mighty in church music as elsewhere. The habit of delighting in the finished performances of the vocalist was united with the idea that he who could most fully satisfy the prevailing taste was also the most worthy to serve the Most High and to exalt the glory of worship. We shall therefore find the church music of the latter half of the eighteenth century composed of the same materials as operatic music, and exercising much the same effect.
The same influence which had been won by Italian operatic music in Germany penetrated to the churches of Catholic Germany, and attained to complete sovereignty. But there was a difference, important, though not at the time generally or consciously felt. The conception and mode of expression of Italian church music was, although secularised, yet in its essence national, and in its appeals to religious emotion it might count upon universal comprehension and sympathy.
But transplanted to Germany both the ideas and their mode of execution were strange, and could only be adopted after a preliminary artistic training; what in Italy had grown up in the course of national development was transmitted to Germany as mere form. The delicate sense of beauty and of grace, the excitable, passionate nature of the Italians, could not be transplanted, and the external adjuncts were even more superficially treated than on the soil from which they sprang. Contrapuntal work, especially the fugue, was haunted by the school traditions of church usages, which conduced to a spiritless formalism of routine. Thus, carelessness and pedantry, superficiality and dulness were combined, and church music declined more rapidly and visibly than the opera. The difference between the true essence and its extinct form is the more apparent and significant the deeper it lies; and to this must be added the fact that the continuous demand for church music' gave rise to the production of a mass of inferior work, from which the opera was preserved in deference to the taste of the public. Under these circumstances it was impossible even for a surpassing genius to do more than distinguish himself in some particulars; the efforts of an individual after thorough-going reform could only be successful supported by the spirit of the age and of the nation. 9
This general position held by church music was modified in different regions by local peculiarities of the liturgy, by the tastes of church authorities, and by the differences in the CHURCH MUSIC. musical forces at command. The peculiar circumstances under which Mozart wrote in Salzburg are described by himself in a letter to Padre Martini (September 4, 1776): 10 —
I live in a place where music prospers but little, although we have some good musicians, and some especially good composers of thorough knowledge and taste. The theatre suffers for want of singers; we have few male sopranos, and are not likely to have more, for they require high pay, and over-liberality is not our weak point. I busy myself with writing church and chamber music, and we have two capital contrapuntists, Haydn and Adlgasser. My father is kapellmeister at the metropolitan church, which gives me the opportunity of writing as much as I like for the church. But as my father has been thirty-six years in the service of the court, and knows that the Archbishop does not care to have people of an advanced age about him, he takes things quietly and devotes himself chiefly to literature, which has always been his favourite study. Our church music differs widely and increasingly from that of Italy.
A mass, with Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, the Sonata at the Epistle, the Offertorium or Motett, Sanctus and Agnus Dei, must not last longer than three-quarters of an hour, even on festivals when the Archbishop himself officiates. This kind of composition requires special study. And yet the mass must have all the instruments, trumpets, drums, &c. Ah, if we were not so far from each other, how much I should have to tell you!
We have further information on the arrangements made for church music in the cathedral. 11 "The cathedral contains a large organ at the back by the entrance, four side organs in front of the choir, and a little choir organ below the choir where the choristers sit. The large organ is only used on grand occasions and for preludes; during the performance one of the four side organs is played, generally that next to the altar on the right side, where the solo singers and basses are. Opposite, by the left-side organ, are the violinists, &c., and on the two other sides are two choruses of trumpets and drums. The lower choir organ and double-bass join in when required." 12
Among Mozart's compositions for the Church, his masses. 13 by reason of their importance in Divine service, take the first place. 14 In the divisions of the several parts, we find him following in the beaten track of the Neapolitan school. The different parts of the text coincide with the prescribed pauses made by the officiating priest, but are very differently worked out. 15 Where the composer has free scope, the separate sections are usually treated as independent pieces, with regular alternations of solo and chorus. But such elaborate masses were only performed on solemn occasions (Missa solemnis) or through the preference of an influential personage—they took up too much time for the regular service.
In the short mass (Missa brevis) the larger divisions were treated in the main as a connected musical movement of which the separate sections were detached indeed, but not independent of each other; the degree of connection is of course very varied.
The thrice-repeated cry, "Kyrie eleison! Christe eleison! Kyrie eleison!" is regularly developed into a lengthy movement. It was formerly the custom 16 to prefix a short, slow and solemn movement on the words "Kyrie eleison," to an agitated more elaborate one 17 (49, 65,66, K.); but afterwards the whole became one movement. The prayer for the mercy of God is animated, and though devoid of depth, never sinks to mere trifling. A more serious mood is generally indicated by the severer contrapuntal treatment of the voices (192, 194, 262, K). The words "Christe eleison" are regularly accentuated, usually with an expression of beseeching melancholy, and often by solo voices. The solo voices and choruses generally alternate in the Kyrie.
The Gloria 18 is divided into several movements, CHURCH MUSIC. conformably to the successive invocations of which it consists. The character of the whole is one of exulting praise, the tone being indicated by the opening words, "Gloria in excelsis Deo." The effort to express the solemn dignity of divine worship by external splendour, is apparent in the animated, fervent, and often stately progress of this movement. The opening subject is revived at appointed places, usually at the Quoniam, and forms a connecting thread throughout the piece. A solo is often introduced at the words "Lau-damus Te and, even without much intentional expression, the four commas of the words, "Laudamus Te, benedicimus Te, adoramus Te, glorificamus Te," form natural pauses, and regulate the musical and rhythmical division of the passage.
But the contrast of solo and chorus is determined less by the sense of the words than by the necessities of art, requiring variations of light and shade. As a rule, the words of highest import are given to the chorus; the solos serve for ornament, or as a preparation for a chorus of renewed and increased strength.
The central point of this part of the mass is formed by the thrice-repeated cry:—