AN account of the circumstances which affected Mozart's social and artistic position in Vienna, as well as his moral and intellectual development, would be incomplete without some notice of his connection with Freemasonry. 1
It is well known 2 that a propensity for secret associations and brotherhoods, having for their object the furtherance of intellectual, moral, and political ideas, was very prevalent in Germany during the latter half of the eighteenth century. These associations were all more or less closely allied to Freemasonry, and the traces of their influence are most apparent in the impulse which they gave to the national literature. 3 Be the degree great or small in which Free-masonry has advanced the cause of humanity, and granting that its good effects have often been obscured by the follies, crimes, and impostures which have hidden themselves behind the secrecy of its vows; it is still an undoubted fact that FREEMASONRY IN VIENNA, 1781. princes like Frederick the Great, great and good men like Lessin, Herder, Wieland, and Gofethe, have looked upon Freemasonry as a means of attaining their highest endeavours after universal good. It will suffice for our present purpose to quote a passage from Goethe's funeral oration upon Wieland: 4 —
If any testimony were desired in favour of an association which has existed from very ancient days, and has survived many vicissitudes, it would be found in the spectacle of a man of genius—intelligent, shrewd, cautious, experienced, and moderate—seeking his equals among the members of our association, feeling himself at one with us, and, fastidious as he was, acknowledging our fellowship to be the perfect satisfaction of his earthly and social desires.
Wieland himself declared that 5 the "intellectual temple-building" had for its chief and highest object "the earnest, energetic, and persevering efforts of every true and honest mason to approach nearer himself, and to lead his brethren nearer, to the ideal of humanity, and to prove that man is fashioned and appointed to be a living stone in the eternal temple of the Almighty." 6 It was natural that in Vienna, where there was more intellectual life than elsewhere, the form of secret association should have been utilised in the furtherance of these high aims: 7 —
In the year 1781 was formed a society of the most distinguished leaders of thought in Vienna, under the presidency of the noble and intellectual Ignaz von Born. The aim of the society was to give effect to that freedom of conscience and thought so happily fostered by the government, and to combat superstition and fanaticism in the persons of the monkish orders, the main supports of both these evils. Reinhold and the friends of his youth, Alxinger, Blumauer, Haschka, Leon and Ratschky, were the most zealous members of this association. They MOZART AND FREEMASONRY. adopted the forms of Freemasonry as an outward expression of their mental and spiritual union. Their lodge was entitled "True Harmony," 8 and, supported indirectly by the favour of the Emperor Joseph, they laboured for a considerable time with energy and success to carry out their preconceived designs. Their weapons were learning and eloquence, and in their use of these, whether in earnest severity or in jesting irony, they were more than a match for their opponents. 9
From this circle, which contained other distinguished men, such as Sonnenfels, Retzer, and Gemmingen, proceeded the satires of Born and Blumauer against monasticism, which had so extraordinary an effect at the time. The scientific organ of the Freemasons was the Vienna "Real-zeitung," edited by Blumauer, which endeavoured to drive superstition and prejudice from the domain of science in the same insidious way in which they had entered it—Blumauer's principle 10 being that the work of enlightenment is a very gradual one, and that a far harder task than that of learning is the unlearning of what has been once hammered into the heads of ordinary mortals. As might have been expected, Freemasonry became after a time an affair of fashion in Vienna, and many abuses crept in:—
The order of Freemasonry pursued its course with an amount of publicity and ostentation almost ludicrous. Freemasons' songs were composed, published, and sung everywhere. Their symbols were hung as charms upon watch-chains; ladies were presented with white gloves by novices and associates, and various articles of fashion were christened à la franc-maçon. Many members joined the order from curiosity, or in order to enjoy the pleasures of the table. Others had still more interested views. It might be of material advantage to belong to a brotherhood which had members in every rank, and had made a special point of gaining the adhesion of powerful officials, presidents, and members of the government. One brother was bound to help another; and those who did not belong to the brotherhood were often at a serious disadvantage; this fact enticed many to join. Others again, more FREEMASONRY IN VIENNA, 1785. sincere or more ignorant, thought they had found a key to higher mysteries—such as the philosopher's stone, or intercourse with disembodied spirits. The Freemasons were unquestionably very benevolent; collections for the poor brethren were often made at their meetings. 11
The proceedings against the Illuminati in 1785 led to a commencement of persecution of the Freemasons, but on December 11 of the same year the Emperor Joseph issued a decree in which, while disclaiming any knowledge of the secret vows of the order, or any approval of its juggleries, he gave it his countenance upon condition of certain reforms, and placed it under the protection of the state. 12 This decree, which was extolled by some as a proof of the highest wisdom and clemency, and bewailed by others as the ruin of genuine Freemasonry, gave occasion to violent disputes, intensified by the carrying out of the Emperor's order for the reduction of the existing eight lodges to three. Born, who disapproved of the reform, had, in spite of his previous popularity, to suffer numerous personal attacks: An unpleasant encounter with Jos. Kratter, nicknamed the "freemason's auto-da-fé," called forth a multitude of malignant pamphlets, and in 1786 Bom retired altogether from the lodge. 13 His loss was a serious one for its intellectual influence, and his example was followed by others. The imperial recognition of the lodge did not preserve it from increasing attacks and suspicions, which afterwards proceeded to publicly expressed disapproval on all sides. But many steadfast spirits still held out. Loibl, for instance, placed his dwelling at the disposal of the lodge for their meetings. His daughter still remembers (1867) how her father spent hours clothed in his robes, sitting before a crucifix with lighted tapers, reading the Bible in preparation for the sittings, at which the children, peeping through the keyhole, wondered to see the gentlemen seated round the table conversing with earnest mien. Mozart was among these enthusiasts, and maintained his connection with the MOZART AND FREEMASONRY. lodge until his death; he even conceived the idea of founding a secret society of his own—"The Grotto"—and drew up rules for its guidance. 14
It can scarcely have occurred to Mozart to consider his connection with Freemasonry as a means of worldly advancement; such calculations were foreign to his nature, and would have been in no degree realised. His connection with the order was of no practical advantage to him. The high standing of the order when Mozart came to Vienna—the fact that the most distinguished and cultivated men, moving in the best society, were counted among its members, renders it natural that he should have desired to attach himself to it. His need for intercourse with earnest and far-seeing intellects would lead him to the same conclusion. So, too, in a still greater degree, would his genuine love for mankind, his warm sympathies both in joy and sorrow, his sincere desire to help and benefit others, which amounted even to a weakness; and perhaps the greatest attraction of all would be the satisfaction of his truly exceptional longing for friendship. Even his boyish years are full of instances of enthusiastic devotion and attachment—to young Hagenauer (Vol. I., p. 50), to Father Johannes at Seeon (Vol. I., p. 58), to Thomas Linley (Vol. I., p. 119), and others; and as a man his loving, sympathetic friendship was accorded to many, among whom I may remind the reader of Bullinger (Vol. I., p. 335)> of Barisani (Vol. I., p. 305), of Gottfried von Jacquin (Vol. II., p. 357), of Count Hatzfeld (Vol. II., p. 291). An order which made the brotherhood of its members the chief reason of its existence was sure to have strong attractions for him, the more so that the spirit of independence which he possessed in common with all other gifted natures was gratified by the equality of every brother within the circle of his INFLUENCE OF FREEMASONRY ON MOZART. order. Again, the position which he had at that time assumed in relation to the priestly and monkish orders gave him a powerful impulse towards Freemasonry. Notwithstanding his strict religious training, he had inherited from his father a decided aversion to these institutions. L. Mozart writes to his daughter (October 14, 1785):—
There is an appalling difference between these sisterhoods and true Christianity. It would be an undoubted gain if the nunneries were dissolved. They exist neither by virtue of true vocation, nor supernatural calling, nor spiritual zeal, nor as the true discipline of devotion and abnegation of desires, but are the result of compulsion, hypocrisy, dissimulation, and childish folly, leading in the end to confirmed wickedness.
The effects of his connection with Freemasonry upon Mozart are as plainly discernible as his reasons for joining the order. Carefully and well as his early training laid the foundation of his after-development, it was impossible but that the narrow circumstances of his Salzburg life should cramp his intellectual energies; and his visits to great cities, important as they were in inciting him to fresh efforts for self-improvement, were too transitory to have much practical effect. Earnest endeavours after freedom of moral and intellectual development were at that time the special characteristic of Freemasonry in Vienna, and the effect must needs have been a salutary one which followed the entrance of a young man into a circle which busied itself in solving, both theoretically and practically, the highest problems of the universe. It would be difficult to say how far the secrecy and mystery of the order worked on his imagination and attracted him; but some such influence is quite conceivable in a nature so artistic and excitable as his.
That Mozart was quite in earnest in his fidelity to his order is proved by the pains he took to induce his father to become a Freemason. The letter, already quoted (Vol. II., p. 323), in which, anticipating his father's speedy death, he speaks of the true meaning of death from a mason's point of view, bears ample testimony to his earnestness. His lodge MOZART AND FREEMASONRY. recognised it in the oration pronounced after his death, 15 of which the passages immediately relating to him may here be quoted:—
It has pleased the Almighty Architect of the Universe to take from among us our best-beloved and most estimable member. Who did not know, who did not respect, who did not love our worthy brother, Mozart? Only a few weeks ago he was in our midst celebrating the dedication of our masonic temple with entrancing tones. Who of us that saw him then, my brethren, would have supposed his days to be numbered? Who would have thought that in three weeks we should be mourning his loss? How true it is that man's sad destiny often cuts short his career in the very prime of life! Kings perish in the midst of their ambitious plans, which go down to posterity incomplete. Artists die, after devoting all that was granted them of life to the glorification of their art. The admiration of all mankind follows them to the grave, nations mourn for them, and yet the universal fate of these great men is—to be forgotten of their admirers. It shall not be so with us, my brethren! Mozart's early death is an irreparable loss to art. His genius, displayed in earliest childhood, rendered him the wonder of his age—half Europe was at his feet—the great ones of the earth called him their darling—and we called him—brother. Fitting as it is, however, to call to our remembrance his abilities in his art, we must not forget to give our strongest testimony to his excellent heart. He was a zealous supporter of our order. The main features of his character were brotherly love, devotion to the good cause, benevolence and genuine satisfaction in using his talents for the good of his fellows. He was estimable alike as husband, father, friend of his friends, brother of his brothers; he wanted only wealth to make hundreds happy after his own heart.
Mozart owed many of his impulses as a composer to his connection with Freemasonry. We shall see later that the "Zauberflote" came directly under its influence; in this place it will be fitting only to mention those compositions which he composed for particular festivities within the lodge; they are, of course, exclusively for male voices, and betray in other ways enforced compliance with certain conditions.
The "Gesellenreise" (468 K.), composed on March 26, 1785, is a social song, elevated and pleasing in tone; two others are intended for the opening and closing of a lodge (483, 484,K.): 16 MASONIC COMPOSITIONS. all three have organ accompaniments. The two last conclude with a chorus for two tenors and a bass voice. Similar three-part choruses are introduced in other Freemason cantatas, and are easy and popular, suitable to amateurs. The tenor solos, on the other hand, are adapted to a trained singer, Adamberger, who was a member of the lodge.
An unfinished cantata (429 K.) was probably intended for some masonic purpose. The first chorus, "Dir Seele des Weltalls, Sonne, sei heute das erste der festlichen Lieder geweiht," for two tenors and bass, with accompaniment for the quartet and flute, clarinet, two oboes and two horns, is written out in full for the voices with a figured bass, and the accompaniment is sketched in Mozart's usual way. The same is the case with the long-drawn-out tenor aria which follows, "Dir danken wir die Freude." Only seventeen bars of a second duet for tenor voices, intended as a conclusion, are written out. The three-part male chorus, the solos exclusively for tenor voices, and the limited orchestra, all suggest masonic influence; I will not attempt to give an opinion on the symbolism of the words. The first chorus is fine, spirited and solemn. 17 Two other cantatas certainly fall within this category. The first of these is the Maurerfreude (471 K.) composed on April 20, 1785, shortly before the departure of his father, in whose presence it was first performed. The lodge were giving a banquet in honour of Born, who had been highly complimented by the Emperor for his invention of a new kind of amalgam. 18 The cantata, with words by Petran, was afterwards published in score, with a title-page engraved by Mansfeld, representing "Wisdom and Virtue," as the text says, "addressing themselves to their disciple"; it was sold for the benefit of the poor. 19 The main substance of the work consists of a long MOZART AND FREEMASONRY. tenor solo worked out in free form for Adamberger, the first and greater part being after the fashion of the allegro of a concert aria. There is nothing of the Italian form in it, but deep and genuine feeling is expressed in Mozart's familiar and purely German manner. The animation of the expression reaches its climax in a recitative leading to a serious and rhythmical song of two verses, the concluding lines of which are repeated by the chorus. In the accompaniment to this cantata, a clarinet is introduced in addition to the quartet, two oboes and two horns, and treated with evident partiality, the deeper notes being employed in Mozart's favourite triplet passages; Stadler had no doubt something to do with this. 20 The second, "Kleine Freimaurercantate" (623 K.), with words by Schikaneder, 21 was composed on November 15, 1791, and performed a few days afterwards at the consecration of a new masonic temple: it is the last work which Mozart completed. There is somewhat more of variety in its conception; a short chorus interrupted by solos is followed by a recitative and aria for the tenor, which leads to another recitative divided between tenor and bass; then follows a duet, after which the first chorus is repeated. It is very pleasing and popular in tone, but not equal to the previous cantata in depth and energy of expression. 22 The cantata, "Die ihr des unermesslichen Weltalls ZIEGENHAGEN'S CANTATA, 1791. Schopferehrt" (619 K.), composed in July, 1791, is not certainly the immediate result of Mozart's connection with Freemasonry, but it is evidently an expression of the state of mind which it was the object of Freemasonry to produce. 23 Frz. Hein. Ziegenhagen, a wealthy merchant of Hamburg, incited by the study of the Encyclopedists, especially of Rousseau, felt himself called upon to take part in the various attempts which were made towards the close of the last century to abolish the pedantry of the schools; and his efforts to bring education back to a state of natural simplicity were more energetic and daring than those of less ardent reformers. He published, out of love for humanity and paternal tenderness, as he said, an elaborate treatise in which he sought to prove, 24 by a criticism of the biblical tradition, that existing religions could not satisfy the inquirer into the nature of things, and then laid down rules for the theoretical and practical education of human beings. He hoped, in all seriousness, "to induce wise princes and enlightened universities to introduce the study of the relations of things to each other, which is so unmistakably superior to ordinary religious teaching; and he hoped also to make the acquaintance of such parents as wished to devote their children to husbandry and the management of a colony which he proposed to found, in accordance with his views, in the neighbourhood of Strasburg." In order to render his book attractive from every point of view he adorned it with eight copperplate engravings by Chodowiecki, and requested Mozart to compose a song to be sung with orchestral accompaniment in the meeting-houses of his colony.
Mozart was certainly not acquainted with the entire MOZART AND FREEMASONRY. contents of this eccentric, almost crazy work; Ziegenhagen gave him a few general hints of his Utopian scheme, in which he was doubtless perfectly sincere, and sent him the words of the hymn. These words emphatically express the effort after truth, brotherhood, and happiness which was the final object of Freemasonry, and Mozart could not but treat them after the same manner that he treated similar poems avowedly masonic. Ziegenhagen's lines are so deficient in poetic spirit, and even in poetic metre, that it required a more than ordinary amount of genius and cultivation to give them the impress of a musical work of art. A work of art this cantata undoubtedly is; it is more free in conception than usual, the arie, and especially the recitatives, being allowed considerable scope, in order to fall in with the unequal and rhetorical words. The union of such an accentuation as was necessary to the sense of the words with the full expression of warm emotion and the subservience of both to appointed musical forms, are the essential features of this composition, and are the more likely to strike us, who are so entirely out of sympathy with the ideas suggesting the work. A style of music specifically belonging to Freemasonry is of course inconceivable; but in the finest passages of works such as this, and in the "Zauberflöte," something is expressed of the essence of the masonic character, of moral convictions (I had almost said of virtue, but fear to be misunderstood), which appears outside the province of music, but which has sometimes been made very effective, especially by Beethoven. The "Maurerische Trauermusik bei dem Todesfalle der Br. Br. Meklenburg und Esterhazy" (477 K.), composed in July, 1785, is an orchestral composition of wonderful beauty and originality. The combination of instruments is unusual; besides the stringed instruments there are two oboes, one clarinet (only one again), three basset-horns, one horn in E flat, one horn in C, and a double bassoon. 25 The deep tones of the wind MASONIC FUNERAL MUSIC, 1785. instruments give a peculiarly solemn expression to the work. After a few introductory chords they are joined by the strings, and the first violins maintain throughout the same character, contrasting with the wind instruments in free rhapsodic passages, expressive of grief in all its varied shades. This is most striking when a Cantus firmus, following the introduction 26 —[See Page Image]
is first delivered piano by the oboes and clarinet, and at the sixth bar is taken up by the full force of the wind instruments. The violins in the meantime have graceful passages, expressive of gentle sorrow, which rise to a gradual climax of passionate regret. As this storm abates, we are led back to the introductory motif, which prepares the way in another climax for the conclusion, preceded by a singularly bold harmonic transition of deeply sorrowful expression:—[See Page Image]
If we compare the contrapuntal treatment of this Cantus firmus with similar works of earlier date, such as the "Betulia Liberata," 27 we are struck with its development of technical mastery as well as of depth of sentiment and freedom of expression; the same is the case also with the "Zauberflote" and the "Requiem." Mozart has written nothing finer than this short adagio in technical treatment, sound effects, earnest feeling, and psychological truth. It is the musical expression of that manly calm which gives sorrow its due, and no more than its due, in the presence of death, and which was expressed by Mozart in another form in the letter to his father already quoted (Vol. II., p. 323).
OF those who realise the excitement and want of repose of Mozart's life in Vienna, and the variety of occupations and distractions which beset him, it must appear matter of wonder that he was able to produce so large a number of compositions, each bearing an individual character of maturity and finish. The wonder increases as the conviction grows that not only was he ready as each occasion arose to prove, as Goethe says every artist should, that his art came at his command, but that he had the power of bringing forth at will his deepest, best conceptions, so that the external impulse appeared only as the momentum given to an artistic inspiration. It must at the same time be remembered that Mozart was not fond of writing, and generally waited until the last moment to give shape to his ideas. He was occasionally, therefore, late with his compositions, as with the sonata for Strinasacchi (Vol. II., p. 337), or had only time to write the parts without scoring them (Vol. II., pp.318, 366), or scarcely allowed the copyist time to finish his work (Vol. II., p. 327); it is only necessary to look through his Thematic Catalogue to see that most of his compositions were written as short a time as possible before they were actually wanted. His DISTASTE TO WRITING. father, who, as a man of business, considered the proper disposition of time as a matter of vital importance, often called his son's attention to this failing. "If you will examine your conscience closely," he writes (December 11, 1777), "you will find that procrastination is your besetting sin and when Wolfgang was at work on "Idomeneo" in Munich, he warned him "not to procrastinate" (November 18, 1781). After his stay in Vienna, convinced that his son was in this respect unchanged for the better, he writes to Marianne, on hearing from Wolfgang that he was over head and ears at work on the "Nozze di Figaro" (November 11, 1785), "He has procrastinated and thrown away his time after his usual habit, until now he is forced to set to work in earnest, in compliance with Count Rosenberg's commands."
It cannot be denied that Leopold Mozart was right, and that a judicious and methodical distribution of time is as desirable in an artist or a genius as in any one else; it is true also that perseverance and care may enable even an artist to overcome his inclination to procrastination.
But a glance at the extraordinary fertility of Mozart's genius, at the burning zeal and intensity with which he worked, will suffice to show the injustice of accusing him of idleness, or of never working unless he was actually driven to it. He was perfectly justified in writing to his father from Vienna (May 26, 1781): "Believe me, I do not love idleness, but rather work." The father's injustice was the result of a want of comprehension of the peculiar creative process of his son's genius. He did not appreciate the activity and industry of his mind, because it made no show, and, indeed, often hid itself behind a careless demeanour; he failed to perceive that the disinclination to write generally arose from the feeling that the workings of the mind were not yet in a shape to be expressed by the pen.
A conception of Mozart's work, almost equally mistaken, is that which takes as a measure of his genius his wonderfully rapid production, which often made his grasp of an artistic idea coincident with his embodiment of it in music. The overture to "Don Giovanni" is most often quoted as an example of this extraordinary speed. Niemetschek says (p. 84):—
Mozart wrote "Don Juan" at Prague in 1787; it was finished, rehearsed, and announced for performance in two days' time, before the overture was begun to be written. The anxiety of his friends, increasing every hour, appeared to entertain him; the more apprehensive they became, the less he would consent to hurry himself. It was not until the night before the performance, after spending the merriest evening imaginable, that he went to his room at near midnight, began to write, and completed the admirable masterpiece in a few hours.
This very credible account is corroborated by Mozart's wife: 1 —
The evening before the performance of "Don Juan" at Prague, the dress rehearsal having already taken place, he said to his wife that he would write the overture at night, if she would sit with him and make him some punch to keep his spirits up. This she did, and told him tales about Aladdin's Lamp, Cinderella, &c., which made him laugh till the tears came. But the punch made him sleepy, so that he dozed when she left off, and only worked as long as she told tales. At last, the excitement, the sleepiness, and the frequent efforts not to doze off, were too much for him, and his wife persuaded him to go to sleep on the sofa, promising to wake him in an hour. But he slept so soundly that she could not find it in her heart to wake him until two hours had passed. It was then five o'clock; at seven o'clock the overture was finished and in the hands of the copyist.
This musical myth has received a stronger colouring in the account of the elder Genast, then a young actor at Prague. According to him, Mozart partook so freely of the hospitalities of a certain gentleman on the evening in question that Genast and a friend brought him home, laid him senseless on his bed, and themselves went to sleep on the sofa. On awakening, they heard Mozart lustily singing, as he composed his overture, and "listened in reverential silence as the immortal ideas developed themselves." 2 A good instance, this, of the way to manufacture an anecdote.
Niemetschek, who had previously remarked with justice that Mozart's work was always ready in his head before he sat down to his writing-table, was no doubt of the correct opinion that the overture was only written down in this haste, not composed. Whether the wife believed this or not CONSCIENTIOUS INDUSTRY. is doubtful, since she adds ingenuously: "Some will recognise the dozings and rousings in the music of the overture." An evident repetition of some one else's words, and a very ingenious idea. One can only say with Hoffman: "Some people are fools!" 3
An unprejudiced examination soon disposes of the not only foolish but detrimental idea 4 that rapidity of workmanship is a sign of true genius; but it is not by any means so easy a task to gain a clear and comprehensive insight into the workings of an artist's nature. 5 Fortunately for our purpose, however, averse as Mozart was to talk much of himself or his compositions, he has left us characteristic traits and expressions sufficient to enable us to realise his individualities in this respect. 6
It is a matter of universal experience that the great men of every art and science, who have left any enduring proofs of their genius, have worked the more zealously and the more earnestly in proportion as their genius surpassed that of other men. That this holds true of Mozart no one who has studied his life and works will wish to deny. In his youth, as long as he remained under the direct control of his father, his studies were regular and severe. And as a man and a fully developed artist he had no ambition to be considered one who threw off his compositions with the carelessness of genius, or who was ashamed of his honest efforts and labours. His dedication of his quartets to Haydn speaks of them as the fruit of long and painful labour, and in a conversation with the orchestral conductor Kucharz, at Prague, MOZART AS AN ARTIST. before the performance of "Don Giovanni," he expressed himself as follows: "I have spared neither labour nor pains to produce something worthy of the reputation of Prague. It would be a great mistake to imagine that my art is an easy matter to me. I assure you, my dear friend, no one has given more trouble to the study of composition than myself. It would not be easy to find a celebrated musician whose works I have not often and laboriously studied." And in point of fact, the narrator continues, even when he had attained to classical perfection, the works of great masters were always to be seen lying on his desk. 7 We have already seen how eagerly and with what good result he studied Bach and Handel, when once Van Swieten had given him the impetus. Rochlitz 8 declares that he was as familiar with the works of Handel as if he had been all his life director of the Ancient Concerts in London. He had arrived in Leipzig just after arranging "Acis and Galatea" and the "Messiah" for Van Swieten, and the impressions of these works were fresh upon him. "Handel," Rochlitz heard him say, "knows better than any of us what will make an effect; when he chooses he strikes like a thunderbolt." 9 He admired not only Handel's choruses, but many of his arie and solos, which were not thought much of at that time. "Although he is often prosy, after the fashion of his time," said he, "there is always something in his music." 10
At Leipzig Mozart became acquainted with the vocal compositions of Sebastian Bach. Doles made the St. Thomas choir sing him the wonderful eight-part motett, "Singet dem Herrn ein neues Lied." His surprise at the flow of melody, wave upon wave, passed all bounds; he listened with rapt attention, and exclaimed with delight: "That is indeed METHOD OF WORKING. something to take a lesson from!" When he heard that the St. Thomas school possessed several other motetts by Bach, he begged to see them, and no score being accessible he surrounded himself with the parts, and was buried in study until he had worked them all out; then he asked for copies of the motetts. 11 His interest in Benda's monodramas (Vol. II., p. 74) and his expressions on the importance of French opera, prove that he had profited by the study of living masters; all his works bear traces of the kind of influence which is exercised upon a genial and receptive nature by the great performances of others.
Of a different kind to these general preparatory studies, is that which may be properly be called the labour of production: such a technical skill and perfection as enables an artist to clothe his ideas in form. It is impossible in any art (and more especially so in music) to separate absolutely form and substance, and to treat each as a self-sufficing element, and equally impossible to divide at any given point the creative, inventive force of an artistic production from its formative, executive force. The process of production, whether physical or mental, is a mystery to mankind; whence and how the artist is inspired as by a lightning flash with an idea, he knows himself as little as he can trace in his completed work the actual momentum of its conception.
The characteristics of the gradual formation and perfection of artistic ideas vary greatly in different artists; even in great and highly organised natures the mental powers are variously endowed and developed. Statements as to the easy or painful, rapid or deliberate, methods of working of different artists, vague and unsatisfactory in themselves, are for the most part the result of superficial observation and knowledge. It is of little consequence whether an artist at his work is easily distracted by external impressions, or whether he pursues his train of thought undisturbed by what is going on around him. It is of little consequence whether an artist feels necessitated or has made it his habit, to regulate his intellectual labours, and to give a written MOZART AS AN ARTIST. form to every creative impulse, or whether he renounces external aids, and shapes, proves, elaborates and connects his ideas in his own mind only. That which is of consequence, that which no true artist is without, is the power to carry on a train of thought from its earliest germs to its full development, unhindered by interruptions and distractions; and the further power to realise the idea of the whole at every point, as the determining element of the details of conception and form. It is difficult to know whether to admire more the steady flow of invention and form as it proceeds from some minds, or the gradual evolution of a unique self-contained whole out of an apparent waste of disconnected ideas which is characteristic of others. Mozart displayed from every point of view an exceptionally happy organisation. His copious and easily excited productive power was supported by a delicate sense of form, which was developed to such perfection by thorough and varied study that he employed the technicalities of musical form as if by a natural instinct. In addition to this he possessed the gift of so detaching his mind from what was going on around him that he could work out his ideas even to the minutest detail; his wonderful memory enabling him to retain in its completeness whatever he had thus inwardly elaborated, and to reproduce it at any moment in a tangible form.
The impulse which drives an artist to production is seldom consciously felt by himself and is never capable of definition. In most cases this signifies but little, for external impulse usually furnishes only the occasion for a work of art, and even when the impulse happens to be a visible one our attention is concentrated on the creation which it has called forth. This is especially true of music, which draws its immediate inspiration neither from nature nor from the world of thought. It would be of the highest interest to follow the process by means of which impressions made on the artist's mind produce well-defined musical ideas. This, however, is impossible; the idea and its musical development are simultaneous efforts of the mind; the work of art thus called into being cannot be immediately referred to any impulse from without.
Nor is it by any means essential that it should. It is of far greater psychological interest to consider those characteristics of the artist which give a clearer insight into his disposition and ways of feeling, although it may not be possible to trace them in the details of his works. Thus we are told that the sight of beautiful nature stirred Mozart's productive powers to activity. Rochlitz writes on Con-stanze's authority: 12 —
When he was travelling with his wife through beautiful scenery, he used to gaze earnestly and in silence on the scene before him; his usually absent and thoughtful expression would brighten by degrees, and he would begin to sing, or rather to hum, finally breaking out with: "If I could only put the subject down on paper!" And, when I sometimes said that he could do so if he pleased, he went on: "Yes, of course, all in proper form! What a pity it is that one's work must all be hatched in one's own room!"
He always endeavoured to pass the summer in the country or where there was a garden; it is well known that it was chiefly in a garden that he wrote "Don Juan" in Prague and the "Zauberflöte" in Vienna; and in 1758, having taken a country residence for the summer, he wrote to Puchberg (June 27): "I have done more in the ten days that I have been here than I should have done in two months anywhere else." This love of nature is not surprising in a man of Mozart's healthy tone of mind, who had been brought up amid the beautiful surroundings of Salzburg. But he was by no means wedded to these, or to any other influences from without. Wherever he was he was incessantly occupied with musical thoughts and labours. "You know," he writes to his father (Vol. II., p. 43), "that I am, so to speak, steeped in music—that it is in my mind the whole day, and that I love to dream, to study, to reflect upon it." Those who knew him well could not fail to be aware of this. His sister-in-law Sophie describes him well: 13 —
He was always good-humoured, but thoughtful even in his best moods, looking one straight in the face, and always speaking with reflection, whether the talk was grave or gay; and yet he seemed always to be carrying on a deeper train of thought. Even when he was washing his MOZART AS AN ARTIST. hands in the morning, he never stood still, but walked up and down the room humming, and buried in thought. At table he would often twist up a corner of the table-cloth, and rub his upper lip with it, without appearing in the least to know what he was doing, and he sometimes made extraordinary grimaces with his mouth. His hands and feet were in continual motion, and he was always strumming on something—his hat, his watch-fob, the table, the chairs, as if they were the clavier.
Karajan tells me that his barber used to relate in after-years how difficult it was to dress his hair, since he never would sit still; every moment an idea would occur to him, and he would run to the clavier, the barber after him, hair-ribbon in hand. We have already observed that musical ideas occupied him during all bodily exercises, such as riding, bowls, and billiard-playing; his timidity in riding may have arisen from the frequent distraction of his attention from the management of his horse. General conversation, as Frau Haibl says, did not disturb his mental labours, and his brother-in-law Lange was particularly struck by the fact that when he was engaged on his most important works he took more than his usual share in any light or jesting talk that was going on; this resulted from an involuntary impulse to find a counterpoise for his intellectual activity. Even when music was going on, provided it did not particularly interest him, he had the power of carrying on his own musical thoughts, and of ignoring the music he heard, as completely as any other disturbance. His elder sister-in-law, Frau Hofer, told Neukomm that sometimes at the opera Mozart's friends could tell by the restless movements of his hands, by his look, and the way in which he moved his lips, as if singing or whistling, that he was entirely engrossed by his internal musical activity.
The abstraction and absorption of men of genius appears natural and comprehensible, and is respected even by those whose intellectual activity is not concentrated in the same way. But few are able to enter into the workings of a mind which is ever conceiving and shaping ideas in its hidden recesses, without severing its connection with what is going on around; such a mind has a sort of double existence, and appears able to follow two paths leading in different MENTAL LABOUR AND PREOCCUPATION. directions at the same time. If, as sometimes happens, the outer activity fails to keep pace with the inner, a superficial observer possesses himself of this fact, and makes it the basis of his judgments, leaving out of account the inner and true activity of which the outer is but a manifestation. Even Mozart's father failed to comprehend his peculiar organisation, and refused to recognise any results of his labour but those which were written down, and which had thus, after a long and uninterrupted chain of intellectual exertions, received the seal of their artistic completion. To Mozart himself, on the contrary, this part of his labour seemed unimportant and even burdensome, his productive powers having little share in it. He postponed it as long as possible, not only because he wished to retain his power over the work which occupied him, until it was fully matured in his own mind, but also because he took far more pleasure in creating than in transcribing. It cannot be denied that he sometimes postponed this least congenial part of his task too long. To the methodical man of business this appears all the more blamable, since Mozart was always able at need to execute commissions accurately and punctually; to speak of idleness, or of forced industry, shows complete ignorance of the man. It is true that Mozart laid himself open to the imputation by the speed at which he wrote when he actually set to work; those who observed this could not conceive why a man with such "gifts of Providence" did not "compose," as people say, from morning to night. His wife said truly: 14 "The greater industry of his later years was merely apparent, because he wrote down more. He was always working in his head, his mind was in constant motion, and one may say that he never ceased composing." Although his wife was constantly called on by his admirers to urge him to work, she considered it her duty far oftener to restrain and moderate his activity.
The wonderful harmony of different artistic qualities in Mozart, which Rossini expressed so finely by saying that Mozart was the only musician who had as much genius as MOZART AS AN ARTIST. knowledge and as much knowledge as genius, may be traced in many particulars. The more subordinate power of grasping the idea of a strange composition at a glance, and of executing it on the spot, he possessed as a matter of course. His playing at sight has already been noted many times (Vol. I., pp. 37, log, 363, 365), and his criticism of Sterkel and Vogler show his own view of the matter (Vol. I., p. 387). "It must be," Umlauf said, as Mozart writes to his father (October 6, 1782), "that Mozart has the devil in his head and his fingers—he played my opera, which is so badly written that even I cannot read it, as if he had composed it himself." To this power of seeing at a glance the details and whole conception of a musical work was added a marvellous memory, capable of retaining all that was so seen. As a boy he gave proof of this by his transcription of the Miserere (Vol. I., p. 119); in later years he used to play his concertos by heart when he was travelling; not merely one or another that he had practised, but any or all; he was known to play a concerto from memory that he had not seen for long, because he had forgotten to bring the principal part. 15 At Prague he wrote the trumpet and drum parts of the second finale in "Don Juan" without a score, brought them himself into the orchestra, and showed the performers a place where there would certainly be a mistake, only he could not say whether there would be four bars too much or too little; the mistake was found just as he had said. 16 But this proves only the power of remembering what was finished and impressed on the mind. A more remarkable instance of musical memory was his writing only the violin part of a sonata for piano and violin to perform with Strinasacchi (Vol. II., p. 337), and playing the piano part from his head without ever having heard the piece; or writing a composition at once in parts, without having scored it (Vol. II., p. 366). This displays the astonishing clearness and precision with which he grasped and retained compositions he MENTAL POWERS AND METHOD. had once thought out, even in their minutest details, and we can now account for the rapidity of his transcription from the fact of its being mere transcription. External distractions, so far from annoying him, served to divert his mind during the mechanical labour with his pen. 17 He made Constanze tell him stories, or played bowls; his wife tells us herself how she was confined of her first child while he was composing the second of his quartets, dedicated to Haydn (421 K.). This was in the summer of 1783, and he sat at work in the same room where she lay; indeed, he generally worked in her room during her frequent illnesses. When she complained of pain, he would come to her to cheer and console, resuming his writing as soon as she was calm. This is a striking proof how unshackled Mozart's musical activity was by external circumstances; it is not given to many to remain so completely master of their ideas and powers during an event which would naturally appeal to the ten-derest feelings of the heart. Still more striking is his expression to his sister when he sends her the prelude and fugue before mentioned (Vol. II., p. 321). He apologises for the prelude being placed improperly after the fugue: "The reason was," he says, "that I had already composed the fugue, and wrote it down while I was thinking out the prelude."
Such mental powers as these reduced the mere writing to an almost mechanical operation; nevertheless, he did not rely so completely as he might have done on his memory, but made occasional notes for his better convenience and certainty. Rochlitz tells us, no doubt on Constanze's authority: 18 —
Mozart, when in company with his wife or those who put no restraint on him, and especially during his frequent carriage journeys, used not only to exercise his fancy by the invention of new melodies, but occupied his intellect and feeling in arranging and elaborating such melodies, often humming or singing aloud, growing red in the face and suffering no interruption. The briefest indications in black and white sufficed to preserve these studies in his memory; his easily kindled imagination, his complete mastery of the resources of his art, and his extraordinary MOZART AS AN ARTIST. musical memory needed little aid; he used to keep scraps of music paper at hand (when travelling, in the side-pocket of the carriage) for such fragmentary notes and reminders; 19 these scraps,carefully preserved in a case, were a sort of journal of his travels to him, and the whole proceeding had a sort of sacredness to his mind which made him very averse to any interference with it.
These notes, having served their purpose, seem to have been thought unworthy of preservation; the few that remain are interesting and suggestive. The sketch which is given in facsimile of Denis's ode (Vol. II., p. 370) gives an outline of the whole work in writing so hasty as scarcely to be recognised for Mozart's. The voice part is written entire as well as the bass of the accompaniment, and the other parts have all their characteristics so clearly noted that there could be no doubt as to their further elaboration. It is evident that the composition was finished in Mozart's brain when the sketch was written, so that it does not appear as one attempt among several to give shape to his conception, but as an aid to the memory when it should be necessary to write down the whole in detail. Similar, but still slighter, is the sketch for one of the songs in "L' Oca del Cairo," which is given in facsimile in Jul. André's edition in pianoforte score. Here again the voice part is given from beginning to end, but the bass is not shown, and the accompaniment only here and there (once with the direction that the clarinets are to be used). The piece was simple enough to require very slight reminders for its elaboration. It would not be easy to decide whether such a sketch should be considered as the result of much previous reflection and study, or whether it was the immediate fruit of a moment of inspiration.
These two sketches never having been elaborated, so far as we are aware, we can make no comparison which will show how far such sketches were modified before the completion of the work. There is considerable difference between the first hasty sketch of the terzet (5) from the "Sposo Deluso" (430 K.), which Jul. André has given in the SKETCHES. preface to his pianoforte edition, and the later elaboration of it. Nothing remains but the first motif—[See Page Image]
but so differently applied that this sketch cannot have been taken as the point of departure for the working-out, but must be considered as an earlier and rejected conception. On the other hand, the sketches for a song from "Idomeneo" (Vol. II., p. 148) and for a tenor song (420 K.) are almost identical in the voice part with the score as it stands.
Peculiar interest attaches to Sketch I., given in facsimile. The three first lines are noted for a clavier composition; then follows the sketch of a terzet (434 K.) for two bass voices and a tenor, from an opera buffa, on which Mozart was apparently at work in 1783. A fair copy of the work is partially preserved, and gives an idea of the way in which Mozart arranged his scores. The sketch contains only the voice parts, with slight hints for the accompaniment, showing how in one place the first idea was rejected and then again resumed. It is evident from the way in which the space is employed that the notes were made very hastily.
The score, on the contrary, is a fair copy of the work accidentally left unfinished. It has the proper number of parts for the voices and orchestra, with the corresponding title before each. The ritornello is first given, which is long, because it serves as an introduction to the first scene of the opera. It is formed of motifs which recur later, and it is plain that this independent introduction was written after the completion of the terzet, in which the motifs have each their special signification. The principal parts (first violin and bass), are written in full, but only those parts of the wind instruments in which they have independent motifs; all that was intended to give colouring and shading to this simple outline is omitted. The voice parts are all inserted in proper order, and the bass is given in full; but there are few hints for the accompaniment. It is all written firmly and neatly, showing plainly enough that it was finished. The deviations from the sketch are unimportant MOZART AS AN ARTIST. in the bass voice, more striking in the tenor, where the primary design of the melody remains, but the elaboration is modified and the conclusion lengthened. Where the voices are together nothing has been altered, so far as we can discover. The first sketch breaks off a few bars sooner than the score, which itself is a comparatively small fragment of the whole terzet.
It is evident, therefore, that the true artistic work was done before the first sketch was made, and that the elaboration of the latter into the score was no mere mechanical adoption of the motif (which seems to have been rejected upon critical revision and, so to speak, bom again), but the final reduction to form of what was already complete in conception. This is still more the case in the elaboration of the accompaniment in detail; the well-defined outline which is given keeps it within certain limits without imposing on it any hampering restraint.
Further instances may be found in those works of which the plans of the scores, generally unelaborated, are preserved. Particularly instructive are the unelaborated movements of the Mass in C minor (427 K.) and of the "Requiem" (626 K.) in André's edition; also the pianoforte score of the duet (384 K.) from the "Entführung" and the unfinished opera "L' Oca del Cairo," edited by Jul. André, are examples of similar sketches. They possess peculiar interest to students, since they show those points which Mozart considered as containing the germ of the whole conception. The different stages of the elaboration can be traced in most of Mozart's autograph scores. The voices and bass are invariably written first, and enough of the accompaniment to show its characteristic points; this fact can be recognised, even in scores afterwards fully elaborated, by the differences in ink and handwriting, which is generally more hasty in the elaboration than in the earlier sketch. When once this was made, the elaboration was often long deferred; the whole of the first act of "L' Oca del Cairo" was thus projected, and, the design of the opera being abandoned, was never elaborated; so, too, all the movements of the "Requiem," from the Dies irse to the Quam olim were written entire for the voices with a figured bass, while the ALTERATIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS. instrumentation was only suggested. He waited for time and inclination to continue the work thus begun, and needed more urging to it than to any other, for once having fixed the outline of his design, it required a mere mechanical effort to reproduce it in his mind with details of form and colour. A striking example is that mentioned on p. 360 (Vol. II.), where, by the figuring of the bass, he supplied an aid to his memory of a peculiar harmonic succession which perhaps flashed across him at the moment of transcription in his compositions.
Important alterations were seldom made by Mozart, unless at the instance of the singer or the instrumentalist. He sent his father the score of the "Entführung" with the remark that there were many erasures, because the score had to be copied at once, and he had therefore given free play to his ideas, and then altered and curtailed them before giving the score to be written; it is evident from this that the alterations were almost all made with reference to external circumstances. The improvements made as the work proceeded were usually only trifling, such as modifications in pianoforte passages, or unimportant turns of expression in vocal parts. Thus, for instance, the close of the Count's song in "Figaro" was originally simpler—[See Page Image]
In the duet for the two girls in "Cosi fan Tutte" (4), Dorabella's part had the bars—[See Page Images]
The decided heroic style of the first version, which would be fitting enough for Fiordiligi, is thus toned down, and an expression of greater elegance given to the passage.
It is worth remarking that the characteristic motif of Donna Anna's song in "Don Giovanni"—
Or sai chi l' o-no- re ra - pi - re a me vol-se, chi fu il tra - di - to -re, was originally—
Or sai chi l'o-no-re ra - pi - re a me vol-se, chi fu il tra - di - to - re, and every one must feel how greatly it has gained by the alteration. In every case Mozart's self-criticism has been founded on true feeling and discrimination, even when it has not been called for on definite technical grounds. In the Countess's song in "Figaro" (19) the first division of the allegro, from bar eight, concluded originally thus:—[See Page Image]
The phrase as it is now known was written underneath and the bass scratched out. In the further course of the allegro the three bars— ALTERATIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS. were originally simply repeated after the interlude, and then went on:—[See Page Images]
Mozart appears to have felt when he surveyed the whole song that such an untroubled expression of a fresh joyous impulse was not altogether appropriate to the character of the Countess, and he therefore inserted seven bars on the repetition of the motif, which give the passage an altogether different colour:—
The strongly accented change to C minor expresses such a depth of sorrow and yearning pathos that the lively tone of the allegro seems to be covered with a veil, and the whole emphasis of the song falls upon this place. Certainly, none would have suspected this passage of being an interpolation. The concluding bars of the Andante of the C major symphony (551 K.) originally ran thus:—
How beautifully this passage is replaced by the eleven closing bars, which now lead back to the chief theme, and give emphasis and dignity to the close! In the terzet from "Tito" (14) the andantino originally closed with a simple passage for the strings:—
This is now replaced by a passage divided among all the instruments—[See Page Images]
which, with its agitated motion, is more sharply characteristic of the situation. All these are examples, not of improvements to a finished work, but of a free act of production giving a new disposition to the passages in their relation to the whole work. But Mozart sometimes hesitated at the moment of decision, and made repeated experiments before he was satisfied, as in the case of the conclusion of Susanna's charming song in "Figaro," which seems to belong so naturally to its position that one cannot imagine it other than it is; yet the sketches and alterations of the original show that many earlier experiments were made. Worthy of note also are the two bars in the overture to the "Zauberflote" (p. 10, André), in which the clarinet leads the repetition of the second subject—
and which Mozart, with just discrimination, has struck out of the finished work.
It is a curious fact that Mozart was sometimes uncertain as to his rhythm. The quartet in "Cosi fan Tutte" (21) was originally written:—
At the eighth bar Mozart saw that this was incorrect, and altered the first bars—
and continued it so. There is an exactly similar case in the duet in the "Zauberflote" (8) which Mozart wrote at first thus— ALTERATIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS. and did not find out his mistake until quite the end, when he carefully scratched out all the bar lines and put in the correct ones:—[See Page Images]
Again, in Sesto's air in "Tito" (19), the adagio originally began—
but the bar lines were afterwards erased and fresh ones supplied in red chalk, making the first bar full. Another very singular mistake in the duet in the "Zauberflöte" consists in the omission in the second and third bars of the two chords for clarinets and horns, which Mozart has evidently merely forgotten to transcribe. Now and then, but very rarely, important alterations are made in the instrumentation of his works. One instance occurs in the introduction to the "Zauberflöte," at the beginning of which the trumpets and drums were in C, and were so carried on to the entrance of the three ladies; then Mozart seems to have thought that trumpets and drums could be used with effect as accompaniment, and he has struck through all that he had previously written, and noted the trumpets and drums upon a loose sheet in E flat; he has then continued them for seven bars as an accompaniment to the opening trio. At the beginning of Leporello's great songs in "Don Giovanni" (1,4) trumpets and drums were indicated, but they were afterwards struck out when it came to be performed. In a long comic air, which was intended for "Cosi fan Tutte" (584 K.), he has struck out the horn part, after writing the whole of it. In Dorabella's air (28) the fundamental bass of those parts where only wind instruments are now employed was intrusted to the double-bass; Mozart afterwards struck this out, and expressly noted "senza basso." In the second finale MOZART AS AN ARTIST. of the "Zauberflöte" the piano chords which follow Pamina's words, "Ich muss ihn sehen" were first given by the strings, but flutes and clarinets were afterwards substituted. In the G minor symphony he at first intended to have four horns, but after a few bars he struck them out, and limited himself to two. In the terzet in the "Zauberflöte" (20), the first bar of the accompaniment was given to the violins, thus—[See Page Image]
which was afterwards erased, and a single crotchet used on the unaccented part of the bar, with great gain to the effect. But these are solitary instances. The individual tone-colouring of the instruments is an essential element of musical construction, which cannot be added afterwards, but is contemporaneous with the conception, and has its own share in the working-out of the musical idea. When, therefore, the composer develops his work in his own mind, he hears not only certain abstract sounds, but definite individual tones embodied in the voices and instruments; the whole image glows with vivid colouring in his mind, and only needs to receive its outward form. Besides, it must be remembered that Mozart himself created the orchestra as it was employed with increasing effect from "Idomeneo" onwards; the full use of wind instruments, their combination with each other and with the strings; the consequent radical change of colouring in the instrumentation as a whole, and the wealth of charming detail in the blending of the tone-colours, are all due to Mozart. 20 He had never heard the effects he strove to produce; they existed in the orchestra, it is true, as the statue exists in the marble; but just as the sculptor must have seen with his spiritual eye what he strives to reproduce in the stone, so Mozart can have heard only with his spiritual ear the sounds which he drew from his orchestra. 21