The first of the seven Vienna symphonies is in D major (part 5, 384 K. (likely 385 K. DW)), and was composed by Mozart, at his father's wish, for a Salzburg fête in the summer of 1782. He wrote it under the pressure of numerous engagements in less than a fortnight, sending the movements as they were ready to his father (Vol. II., p. 211). No wonder that when he saw it again he was "quite surprised," not "remembering a word of it." For performance in Vienna (March 3, 1783) he reduced it to the usual four movements by the omission of the march and of one of the minuets, and strengthened the wind instruments very effectively in the first and last movement by flutes and clarinets.
A lively, festive style was called for by the occasion, and in the treatment of the different movements the influence of the old serenade form is still visible. The first allegro has only one main subject, with which it begins; this subject enters with a bold leap—[See Page Image]
and keeps its place to the end with a life and energy enhanced by harsh dissonances of wonderful freshness and vigour. The whole movement is a continuous treatment of this subject, no other independent motif occurring at all. The first part is therefore not repeated, the working-out section is short, and the whole movement differs considerably from the usual form of a first symphony movement. The andante is in the simplest lyric form, pretty and refined, but nothing more; the minuet is fresh and brilliant (Vol. I., p. 219).
The tolerably long drawn-out concluding rondo is lively and brilliant, and far from insignificant, though not equal to the first movement in force and fire.
A second symphony was written by Mozart in great haste on his journey through Linz in November, 1783; it was apparently that in C major (part 6, 425 K.), which with another short symphony in G major (part 6, 444 K.), bears clear traces of Haydn's influence, direct and indirect. (Note: By M. Haydn—the Introduction only by Mozart. DW)
Several years lie between these symphonies and the next in D major (part 1, 504 K.). This was written for the winter concerts on December 6, 1786, and met with extraordinary approbation, especially in Prague, where Mozart performed it in January, 1787 44 The first glance at the symphony shows an altered treatment of the orchestra; it is now fully organised, and both in combination and detail shows individual independence. The instrumentation is very clear and brilliant—here and there perhaps a little sharp—but this tone is purposely selected as the suitable one. Traces of Haydn's influence may be found in the prefixing of a solemn introduction to the first allegro, as well as in separate features of the andante; such, for instance, as the epigrammatic close; but in all essential points we have nothing but Mozart. The adagio is an appropriate preface for the allegro, which expresses in its whole character a lively but earnest struggle. In this allegro the form of a great symphony movement lies open before us. The chief subject is completely expressed at the beginning—[See Page Image] MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. and recurs after a half-close on the dominant with a characteristic figure—[See Page Image]
thus allowing of the independent development of section B. Then, after a complete close on the dominant, there enters the very characteristic and originally treated second subject; the close of the part is introduced by the figure, D, so that a member of the chief subject, A, is again touched upon. The working-out in the second part is founded on the third section of the chief subject, C. These two bars, which there formed only an intermediate passage, are here treated imitatively as an independent motif; first B, then D, are added as counter-subjects, all three are worked-out together, tributary subjects reappear from the first part, until the chief subject, A, enters on the dominant in D minor, leading the way for the other motifs, which press in simultaneously, and glide upon a long organ point gradually back to the first subject, with which the modified repetition of the first part begins. In this lengthy working-out every part of the main idea is fully developed. The simple enunciations of the first part appear, after the elaboration of their different elements like utterances of a higher power, bringing conviction and satisfaction to all who hear. The springlike charm of the andante, with all its tender grace, never degenerates into effeminacy; its peculiar character is given by the short, interrupted subject—[See Page Image]
which is given in unison or imitation by the treble part and the bass, and runs through the whole, different harmonic turns giving it a tone, sometimes of mockery, sometimes of thoughtful reserve. The last movement (for this symphony has no minuet) displays the greatest agitation and vivacity SYMPHONIES, 1788. without any license; in this it accords with the restraint which characterises the other movements. It illustrates the moderation of most of Mozart's great works, which, as Ambros ("Granzen der Musik und Poesie," p. 56) remarks, "is not a proof of inability to soar into a higher sphere, but a noble and majestic proportioning of all his forces, that so they may hold each other in equilibrium." The essence of the work, to borrow the aesthetic expression of the ancients, is ethic rather than pathetic; character, decision, stability find expression there rather than passion or fleeting excitement.
A year and a half passed before Mozart again turned his attention to the composition of symphonies; then, in the summer of 1788, within two months, he composed the three symphonies in E flat major (June 26), G minor (July 25), and C major (August 10)—the compositions which most readily occur to us when Mozart's orchestral works come under discussion. The production of such widely differing and important works within so short a space of time affords another proof that the mind of an artist works and creates undisturbed by the changing impressions of daily life, and that the threads are spun in secret which are to form the weft and woof of a work of art. The symphonies display Mozart's perfected power of making the orchestra, by means of free movement and songlike delivery, into the organ of his artistic mood. As Richard Wagner says:—
The longing sigh of the great human voice, drawn to him by the loving power of his genius, breathes from his instruments. He leads the irresistible stream of richest harmony into the heart of his melody, as though with anxious care he sought to give it, by way of compensation for its delivery by mere instruments, the depth of feeling and ardour which lies at the source of the human voice as the expression of the unfathomable depths of the heart. 45
This result can only be attained by the most delicate appreciation of the various capacities of each individual instrument. The very diversity of tone-colouring which characterises these symphonies shows the masterly hand with which Mozart chooses and blends his tones, so that every detail shall come to full effect. It would not be easy to find places in which the sound-effect does not correspond with the intention; as he imagined it and willed it, so it sounds, and the same certainty, the same moderation, is apparent in every part of the artistic construction.
The Symphony in E flat major (543 K., part 3) is a veritable triumph of euphony. Mozart has employed clarinets here, and their union with the horns and bassoons produces that full, mellow tone which is so important an element in the modern orchestra; the addition of flutes gives it clearness and light, and trumpets endow it with brilliancy and freshness. It will suffice to remind the reader of the beautiful passage in the andante, where the wind instruments enter in imitation, or of the charming trio to the minuet, to make manifest the importance of the choice of tone-colouring in giving characteristic expression. We find the expression of perfect happiness in the exuberant charm of euphony, the brilliancy of maturest beauty in which these symphonies are, as it were, steeped, leaving such an impression as that made on the eye by the dazzling colours of a glorious summer day. How seldom is this unalloyed happiness and joy in living granted to mankind, how seldom does art succeed in reproducing it entire and pure, as it is in this symphony! The feeling of pride in the consciousness of power shines through the magnificent introduction, while the allegro expresses purest pleasure, now in frolicsome joy, now in active excitement, and now in noble and dignified composure. Some shadows appear, it is true, in the andante, but they only serve to throw into stronger relief the mild serenity of a G MINOR SYMPHONY, 1788. mind that communes with itself and rejoices in the peace which fills it. This is the true source of the cheerful transport which rules the last movement, rejoicing in its own strength and in the joy of being. The last movement in especial is full of a mocking joviality more frequent with Haydn than Mozart, but it does not lose its hold on the more refined and elevated tone of the preceding movements. This movement receives its peculiar stamp from its startling harmonic and rhythmical surprises. Thus it has an extremely comic effect when the wind instruments try to continue the subject begun by the violins, but because these pursue their way unheeding, are thrown out as it were, and break off in the middle. This mocking tone is kept up to the conclusion, which appears to Nägeli ("Vorlesungen," p. 158) "so noisily inconclusive" (so stillos unschliessend), "such a bang, that the unsuspecting hearer does not know what has happened to him." 46
The G minor symphony affords a complete contrast to all this (550 K., part 2). Sorrow and complaining take the place of joy and gladness. The pianoforte quartet (composed August, 1785) and the Quintet (composed May 16, 1787) in G minor are allied in tone, but their sorrow passes in the end to gladness or calm, whereas here it rises in a continuous climax to a wild merriment, as if seeking to stifle care. The agitated first movement begins with a low plaintiveness, which is scarcely interrupted by the calmer mood of the second subject; 47 the working-out of the second part intensifies the gentle murmur—[See Page Image] MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. into a piercing cry of anguish; but, strive and struggle as it may, the strength of the resistance sinks again into the murmur with which the movement closes. The andante, on the contrary, is consolatory in tone; not reposing on the consciousness of an inner peace, but striving after it with an earnest composure which even attempts to be cheerful. 48 The minuet introduces a new turn of expression. A resolute resistance is opposed to the foe, but in vain, and again the effort sinks to a moan. Even the tender comfort of the trio, softer and sweeter than the andante, fails to bring lasting peace; again the combat is renewed, and again it dies away, complaining. The last movement brings no peace, only a wild merriment that seeks to drown sorrow, and goes on its course in restless excitement. This is the most passionate of all Mozart's symphonies; but even in this he has not forgotten that "music, when expressing horrors, must still be music" (Vol. II., p. 239). 49 Goethe's words concerning the Laocoon are applicable here ("Werke" XXIV., p. 233): "We may boldly assert that this work exhausts its subject, and fulfils every condition of art. It teaches us that though the artist's feeling for beauty may be stirred by calm and simple subjects, it is only displayed in its highest grandeur and dignity when it proves its power of depicting varieties of character, and of throwing moderation and control into its representations of outbreaks of human passion." And in the same sense in which Goethe ventured to call the Laocoon graceful, none can deny the grace of this symphony, in spite of much harshness and C MAJOR SYMPHONY. keenness of expression. 50 The nature of the case demands the employment of quite other means to those of the E flat major symphony. The outlines are more sharply defined and contrasted, without the abundant filling-in of detail which are of such excellent effect in the earlier work, the result being a greater clearness, combined with a certain amount of severity and harshness. The instrumentation agrees with it; it is kept within confined limits, and has a sharp, abrupt character. The addition of clarinets for a later performance gave the tone-colouring greater intensity and fulness. Mozart has taken an extra sheet of paper, and has rearranged the original oboe parts, giving characteristic passages to the clarinets, others to the oboes alone, and frequently combining the two. No clarinets were added to the minuet. Again, of a totally distinct character is the last symphony, in C major (551 K., part 4), in more than one respect the greatest and best, although neither so full of passion as the G minor symphony, nor so full of charm as the E flat major. 51 Most striking is the dignity and solemnity of the whole work, manifested in the brilliant pomp in the first movement, with its evident delight in splendid sound-effects.:
It has no passionate excitement, but its tender grace is heightened by a serenity which shines forth most unmistakably in the subject already alluded to (Vol. II., p. 455, cf. p. 334), which occurs unexpectedly at the close of the first part. The andante reveals the very depths of feeling, with traces in its calm beauty of the passionate agitation and strife from which it proceeds; the impression it leaves is one of moral strength, MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. perfected to a noble gentleness. The minuet recalls to mind the cheerful subject of the first movement. There is an elastic spring in its motion, sustained with a delicacy and refinement which transports the hearer into a purer element, where he seems to exist without effort, like the Homeric gods. The finale is that masterpiece of marvellous contrapuntal art, which leaves even upon the uninitiated the impression of a magnificent princely pageant, to prepare the mind for which has been the office of the previous movements. We recognise in the principal subject which opens the movement—[See Page Images]
the motif of which Mozart made frequent use even in his youth (Vol. I., p. 259); here he seems anxious to bid it a final farewell. He takes it again as a fugue subject, and again inverted:—
Then other motifs join in. One, in pregnant rhythm—
asserting itself with sharp accents in all sorts of different ways, and connected with a third motif as a concluding section:—
All these subjects are interwoven or worked out with other subordinate ideas, both as independent elements for SYMPHONIES. contrapuntal elaboration, and in two, three, or fourfold combinations, bringing to pass harmonic inflections of great force and boldness, sometimes even of biting harshness. There is scarcely a phrase, however insignificant, which does not make good its independent existence. 52 A searching analysis is out of the question in this place; such an analysis would serve, however, to increase our admiration of the genius which makes of strictest form the vehicle for a flow of fiery eloquence, and spreads abroad glory and beauty without stint. 53
The perfection of the art of counterpoint is not the distinguishing characteristic of this symphony alone, but of them all. The enthralling interest of the development of each movement in its necessary connection and continuity consists chiefly in the free and liberal use of the manifold resources of counterpoint. The ease and certainty of this mode of expression makes it seem fittest for what the composer has to say. Freedom of treatment penetrates every component part of the whole, producing the independent, natural motion of each. The then novel art of employing the wind instruments in separate and combined effects was especially admired by Mozart's contemporaries. His treatment of the stringed instruments showed a progress not less advanced, as, for instance, in the free treatment of the basses, as characteristic as it was melodious. The highest quality of the symphonies, however, is their harmony of tone-colour, the healthy combination of orchestral sound, which is not to be replaced by any separate effects, however charming. In this combination consists the art of making the orchestra as a living organism express the artistic idea which gives the creative impulse to the work, and controls the forces which are always ready to be set in motion. An unerring conception of the capacities for development MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. contained in each subject, of the relations of contrasting and conflicting elements, of the proportions of the parts composing the different movements, 54 and of the proportions of the movements to the whole work; finally, of the proper division and blending of the tone-colours—such are the essential conditions for the production of a work of art which is to be effective in all its parts.
Few persons will wish to dispute the fact that Mozart's great symphonies display the happiest union of invention and knowledge, of feeling and taste. We have endeavoured also to show in brief outline that they are the characteristic expression of a mind tuned to artistic production, whence their entire organisation of necessity proceeds. But language, incapable of rendering the impressions made by the formative arts, is still more impotent in seeking to reproduce the substance of a musical work. 55 Points that can be readily apprehended are emphasised disproportionately; and the subjectivity of the speaker or writer intrudes itself upon the consideration of the music. It has been lately questioned, for instance, whether Mozart's compositions were the absolute and necessary results of certain definite frames of mind, and a comparison has been made between him and Beethoven upon this point. If it is intended by this to draw attention to Beethoven's art, as proceeding from his spiritual being (Geist), in contrast to that of earlier composers—of Mozart especially—which came from the mind (Seele), 56 an important point is indicated. But if this distinction is made exhaustive, or essentially qualitative, the right point of view is thereby disturbed. There can be no doubt that Beethoven has struck chords in the human mind which none before him had touched—that THE RIGHT MEANING OF THE SYMPHONIES. he employs the means at his command with a power and energy of expression unheard before; that by him—the true son of his time—the strife of passions and the struggle for individual freedom are more powerfully and unhesitatingly expressed than by any of his predecessors. But human nature remains the same, and the genuine impulses of artistic creation proceed from universal and unalterable laws; the artist does but impress his individual stamp upon the composing elements of his work; and if, under certain circumstances, this should fail to be comprehended, it does not therefore follow that the work has no meaning. 57 For neither can the form and the substance of a veritable work of art be divided or substituted the one for the other, nor can such a work take effect as a whole when it is not accepted and grasped in all its parts. 58 It is this wholeness, this oneness, which brings the mind of the artist most clearly before us. Let it be remembered that Mozart's contemporaries dis-; covered an exaggerated expression of emotion and an incomprehensible depth of characterisation in those very compositions in which our age recognises dignified moderation, pure harmony, perfect beauty, and a graceful treatment of form sometimes even to the loss of intrinsic force; and it will be acknowledged that much which was supposed to depend on the construction of the work lies really in the changing point of view of the hearers. Those only who come to the consideration of the work with a clear and unbiased mind, taking their standard from the universal and unchangeable laws of art—those only who are capable of grasping the individuality of an artistic nature, will not go astray either in their appreciation or their criticism.
THE unexampled success of the "Entführung," which brought fame to the composer and pecuniary gain to the theatrical management, justified Mozart in his expectation that the Emperor, having called German opera into existence, 1 would commission him to further its prosperous career. He was indeed offered an opera, but the libretto, ''Welches ist die beste Nation?" was such miserable trash, that Mozart would not waste his music on it. Umlauf composed it, but it was hissed off the stage; and Mozart wrote to his father (December 21, 1782) that he did not know whether the poet or the composer were most deserving of the condemnation the work received. In fact, the impulse given to German opera seemed only too likely to die away without lasting result. Stephanie the younger 2 contrived by his intrigues to obtain the dismissal of Müller as conductor of the opera, and the appointment of a committee, whose jealousies and party feelings he turned so skilfully to account that they were all speedily satisfied to leave the actual power in his hands. The incessant disagreements which were the consequence, the hostility between composers, actors, and musicians, disgusted Kienmayer and Rosenberg, the managers of the opera, and the Emperor himself. Nor were the repeated experiments made with the works of mediocre THE OPERA IN VIENNA. composers (which so enraged Mozart that he purposed writing a critique on them with examples) likely to find favour with the Emperor. Add to this that his immediate musical surroundings, Salieri at the head of them, were at least passively opposed to German opera, and it will not be thought surprising that the Emperor Joseph angrily renounced German opera, and followed his own taste in the reinstalment of the Italian. Chance brought this determination to a point. A French company of considerable merit, both in opera and the drama, was performing at the Kamthnerthortheater, and was patronised by the Emperor. 3 He sent for the performers to Schönbrunn in the summer of
1782, and entertained them in the castle during their stay. They were dissatisfied with the hospitality they there received, and one of the actors had the ill-breeding, during a meal at which the Emperor happened to come in, to offer him a glass of wine, with the request that he would try it, and say whether such wretched Burgundy was good enough for them to drink. The Emperor drank the wine, and answered that it was good enough for him, but he had no doubt they would find better wine in France. 4
On the dismissal of this company, Count Rosenberg was commissioned to engage the best singers in Italy, male and female, for an opera buffa, which was all that was then thought feasible; and at the end of the carnival of 1783 the German opera company was dissolved, its best members associating themselves with the new Italian company. 5 Under these circumstances there was not much hope of success for German operatic compositions; and only three new pieces were produced in 1783, none of them with any success. 6 Mozart wrote to his father (February 5, 1783):—
Yesterday my opera was given for the seventeenth time with the usual applause, and to a crowded house. Next Friday a new opera is to be given, the music an absurdity (Galimathias) by a young pupil of Wagenseil's
(Joh. Mederitsch), called "Gallus cantans in abore sedens gigirigi faciens." It will probably fail, but perhaps not so completely as its predecessor, an old opera by Gassmann," "La Notte Critica" ("The Disturbed Night"), which was scarcely brought to a third performance. Before this there was Umlaufs execrable opera, which only reached a second. It is as though, knowing that German opera is to die after Easter, they wanted to hasten its end by their own act: and they are Germans—confound them!—who do this. My own opinion is, that Italian opera will not survive long, and I shall always hold to the German; I prefer it, although it is certainly more trouble. Every nation has its opera, why should we Germans not have ours? Is not our language as fit for singing as the French and English? and more so than the Russian? Well, I am writing a German opera all for myself.
I have chosen as subject Goldoni's comedy "Il Servitore di Due Padroni," and the first act is already translated—the translator being Baron Binder! But it is to be a secret until it is finished. Now, what do you think of that? Don't you think that I shall do myself some good by it?
There can be little doubt that his father would have answered this question in the affirmative, but he would have been more sceptical as to the feasibility of the plan, and practical considerations seem to have caused its abandonment. Two German airs, preserved in draft score, belong by their handwriting to this period; one for a tenor (indicated as Carl), "Müsst ich auch durch tausend Drachen" (435 K.), and the other for a bass (Wahrmond), "Manner suchen stets zu naschen" (433 K.). No dramatic situation is recognisable, and it cannot therefore be affirmed that they were composed for this opera. The composition of a German opera for which he afterwards received a commission from Mannheim came to nothing. Klein sent him a libretto (doubtless "Rudolf von Habsburg") 7 with the request that he would set it to music, whereupon Mozart answered (March 21, 1785): 8 —
I ought certainly to have acknowledged before now the receipt of your letter and the accompanying parcel; but it is not the case that I have in the meantime received two other letters from you; if so, I should certainly have remembered to answer your first as I now do, having received your other two letters on the last post-day. But I should have had no more to say to you on the subject of the opera than I now have. My dear sir, my hands are so full of work that I have not a moment to myself. You know by experience, even better than I, that a thing of this sort must be read carefully and attentively several times over. Hitherto I have not been able to read it once without interruption. All that I can say at present is, that I should like to keep the piece a little longer, if you will be kind enough to leave it with me. In case I should feel disposed to set it to music, I should wish to know beforehand whether it is intended for performance at any particular place? For such a work ought not to be left to chance. I shall hope for an explanation on this point from you.
The reasons for the final rejection of this opera are unknown. Mozart's account of the position of German opera in Vienna is very characteristic. In 1784, it was almost extinct; only Madame Lange selected the "Entführung" for her benefit on January 25, conducted by Mozart himself (Wiener Zeitung, 1784, No. 7); and Adamberger gave Gluck's "Pilgrimme von Mecca" on February 15. Besides these, Benda's melodramas, "Ariadne" and "Medea," Jacquet's chief characters, were performed a few times. But when in the following year the desire for German opera revived, it was decided to reappoint the Kamthnerthortheater, which had been freed from its connection with the court, and to reinstate the German opera in competition with the Italian. On this point Mozart continues:—
I can give you no present information as to the intended German opera, as (with the exception of the alterations at the Karnthnerthor-theater) everything goes on very quietly. It is to be opened at the beginning of October. I do not prophesy a very prosperous result. It seems to me that the plans now formed are more likely to end in the final overthrow of the temporarily depressed German opera, than in its elevation and support. My sister-in-law Lange alone is to be allowed to join the German company. Cavalieri, Adamberger, Teyber, all pure Germans, of whom our fatherland may be proud, are to stay in the Italian theatre, to oppose and rival their own countrymen. German singers at present may be easily counted! And even if they be as good MOZART AS AN OPERA COMPOSER. as those I have named, which I very much doubt, the present management appears to me too economical and too little patriotic to think of paying the services of strangers, when they can have as good or better on the spot. The Italian troupe has no need of them in point of numbers; it can stand alone. The present idea is to employ acteurs and actrices for the German opera who sing from need; unfortunately the very men are retained as the directeurs of the theatre and the orchestra who have contributed by their want of knowledge and energy to the downfall of their own edifice. If only a single patriot were to come to the fore, it would give the affair another aspect. But in that case, perhaps, the budding national theatre would break forth into blossom; and what a disgrace it would be to Germany if we Germans once began in earnest to think, or act, or speak and even—to sing German! Do not blame me, my dear sir, if I go too far in my zeal. Convinced that I am addressing a fellow German, I give my tongue free course, which unfortunately is so seldom possible that after such an outpouring of the heart one feels that one might get drunk without any risk of injuring one's health.
The performances of the new German opera, which opened on October 16, 1785, with Monsigny's "Félix," were in no respect equal to those of the Italian opera. Mozart, whose "Entführung" maintained its place in the repertory until March, 1788, when the house was again closed, was not further employed as composer. 9 Only on one occasion did the Emperor seem to recollect that Mozart was the only opera composer of German birth who could rival the Italian Salieri. At a "Festival in honour of the Governor-General of the Netherlands," dramatic performances were commanded by the Emperor in the Orangery at Schönbrunn, on February 7, 1796; the most distinguished actors and singers, both Italian and German, were engaged. 10 Stephanie junior was commissioned to prepare the German occasional DER SCHAUSPIELDIRECTOR, 1786. piece; it was called "Der Schauspieldirector." 11 The dramatis persona were as follows:—[See Page Image]
The plot consists in the difficulties of Frank, the manager, in engaging a company for a theatre he has received permission to open in Salzburg. Many actors and actresses offer their services, and perform favourite scenes by way of testing their ability, the piece concluding with a similar trial of operatic music. The piece was loosely put together, and its main interest consisted in allusions to the passing events in the theatrical world; these are sometimes too palpable and rather coarse. Casti's little Italian opera, written for the same occasion, "Prima la Musica e poi le Parole" is, on the contrary, really witty and amusing, and allows the composer scope for a genuine musical work. Salieri, whose music, according to Mozart, was tolerable, but nothing more, 12 thus gained a great advantage over Mozart, to whom was entrusted the musical portion of the German piece. There could here, of course, be no question of dramatic interest and individual characterisation. The two singers bring their airs with them as prepared trials of skill. The object was to mark the contrast between them. The two songs are alike in design, with one slow and one agitated movement, and they further resemble each other in their mixture of sentimentality and gaiety, and in the number of bravura passages, MOZART AS AN OPERA COMPOSER. which sometimes go to a considerable height. It is in the details that everything is different, even to the instrumentation, and that the sharpest possible contrast is maintained both in the parts and style of delivery. There is no great liveliness of movement until—the manager being perplexed to make his choice between the two—they fall to quarrelling, each of them reiterating with increasing warmth: "Ich bin die beste Sangerin." Thereupon the tenor comes to the rescue, and seeks to allay the irritation of the enraged ladies, giving occasion for a comic terzet full of life and humour. This was composed by Mozart, probably because it amused him, on January 18, 1786, although the play was not finished until February 3. Although the situation in itself cannot be said to possess much interest, there is a certain charm in the piece, and the forms which are usually only of artistic significance have here a substantial basis. The imitations with which the singers follow on each other's heels, the passages in which they run up to a fabulous height, the alternation of rapid parlando with affected delivery and extraordinary passages—all these not only take effect as means of dramatic characterisation, but give the hearers the pleasure of deciding for themselves which of the two aspirants really is the best singer. The peacemaking tenor attaches., himself now to one, now to the other singer, and then again opposes them both, giving a certain amount of dignity to the dispute by means of musical and dramatic contrasts. Indeed the whole scene is so lively, so gay, so free from caricature, and so euphonious, that the terzet may well claim a place with more important works. The concluding operatic piece is a vaudeville. Each solo voice delivers a verse of the song, passing with characteristic modifications into the principal motif, which takes the form of a chorus. The bass voice comes last; the actor Buf gives his decision for the first buffo. This was Lange, who himself used to say that he could only make a singer at need (Selbtsbiographie, p. 126), and who thus ironically parodied his own words.
Mozart also wrote an overture to the piece, in which, less bound by the triviality of the text, he could move more DER SCHAUSPIELDIRECTOR, 1786. freely. It consists of a single movement in quick time. The first bars—[See Page Image]
fall at once into the tone of the whole, and form in their contrasting elements the motifs which are afterwards intersected in the working-out. The two subsequent better-sustained melodies possess in their easy imitative movement, the charm of a lively, excited conversation, the transition passage forming a piquant contrast; in short, the whole overture resembles a comedy with the different characters and intrigues crossing each other, until at last all ends well. The whole festival was twice repeated at the Kamthnerthortheater soon after the performance at Schönbrunn. 13
Several later attempts were made to give the piece more action and more music, so as to preserve Mozart's work on the stage.
When Goethe undertook the management of the court theatre at Weimar in 1791, numerous Italian and French operas were arranged to German words by the indefatigable concertmeister Kranz and the industrious theatrical poet, Vulpius. 14 Goethe, being in Rome in the summer of 1787, was extremely amused by the performance of an intermezzo, "L' Impresario in angustie," 15 which Cimarosa had composed in the Carnival of the previous year (at the same time as Mozart's "Schauspieldirector") for the Teatro Nuovo at Naples. 16 He at once had it arranged as a comic opera, with the title of "Theatralische Abenteuer," and the whole of the music to Mozart's "Schauspieldirector" introduced. 17
It was performed at Weimar on October 24,1791, with great success, and afterwards repeated with alterations 18 on other stages during a considerable time.
In Vienna, after the operetta had again been thrice performed in 1797, an experiment was made in 1814 with an increased adaptation by Stegmeyer, but without lasting success. 19 Within the last few years L. Schneider has made a false step in the publication of the "Schauspieldirector, or Mozart und Schikaneder." 20 Wishing to preserve Mozart's music free from foreign contact, he chose out some songs, which were suitably instrumentalised by Taubert, and fitted fairly well into the new piece. 21 But in order to give the plot more interest he fell into the unpardonable error of making Mozart himself the hero of the opera, composing the "Zauberflöte"
under Schikaneder's direction. It is incredible that any one should have been capable of thus misrepresenting the master whom the resuscitation of his music was intended to honour, as a senseless, infatuated coxcomb, contemptible both in his obsequious submission to Schikaneder and his immoral relations with his sister-in-law, Aloysia Lange. In 1856 Mozart's operetta was given in Paris at the Bouffes Parisiens with great success; but with what adaptations I am not aware.
Mozart was altogether deceived in his expectation that the Italian opera would not find favour with the public. Joseph made himself acquainted through Salieri with all the most distinguished artists whom the latter had heard in Italy (Mosel, Salieri, p. 75), and gave him full power to engage those he thought fit; he even made this a special object of his own journey through Italy. He thus succeeded in bringing together a personnel for opera buffa, which through a long series of years, with various changes, was unsurpassed in the REVIVAL OF ITALIAN OPERA, 1783. unanimous opinion of the public and connoisseurs. 22 The already mentioned Vienna singers who went over to the Italian opera, Lange, Cavalieri, and Teyber, were joined by Bemasconi, already past her prime, in honour of whom Gluck's "Iphigenie in Tauris" was performed in Italian, in December, 1783. 23 From Italy came Nancy Storace, Mandini, and afterwards Celestine Coltellini. Of the German male singers they had indeed dismissed Fischer, whose loss Mozart rightly declared to be irreparable, but in Benucci they acquired a bass buffo of the first rank. True, he left Vienna the same year, but Marchesini, who replaced him, was not nearly so popular, and Benucci was recalled the following year. The baritones were Mandini, Bussani, and Pugnetti, together with the tenor, O'Kelly (Kelly), and the Germans, Adamberger, Saal, and Ruprecht. On April 22, 1783, the Italian opera was opened with Salieri's newly adapted opera "La Scuola dei Gelosi." 24 It was a decided success, and was repeated twenty-five times, although a cold criticism of the opening night asserts: "The prima donna sang extremely well, but her gesticulation is intolerable. The buffo bore away the palm for natural acting. The other performers are unworthy of notice." 25 The next opera, by Cimarosa, "L' Italiana in Londra" (May 5), was not so well received; but on the other hand Sarti's opera, "Fra due Litiganti il Terzo Gode" (May 25) excited extraordinary enthusiasm. 26 Schroder writes on July 26, 1783: "The Italian opera is much sought after, and the German MOZART AS AN OPERA COMPOSER. theatre is empty." 27 Earnestly as Mozart desired to be employed upon a German opera, he could not fail to be excited by the performances and success of the Italian opera, and his overpowering love of the drama urged him again to employ his genius in the field best fitted for its efforts. He writes to his father (May 7, 1783):—
The Italian opera has recommenced, and pleases very much. The buffo, named Benucci, is particularly good. I have looked through at least a hundred (indeed more) ibretti, but cannot find one satisfactory—that is, unless much were to be altered. And a poet would often rather write a new one than alter—indeed the new one is sure to be better. We have here a certain Abbate da Ponte as poet; he is driven frantic with the alterations he has to make for the theatre; he is, per obligo, employed on a new libretto for Salieri, and will be at least two months over it; 28 then he has promised to do something new for me. But who knows whether he can or will keep his word? You know how fair-spoken the Italians are! If he tells Salieri about it, I shall get no opera as long as I live—and I should like to show what I can do in Italian music. Sometimes I have thought that if Varesco does not bear malice on account of the Munich opera he might write me a new book for seven characters—but you know best if that can be done. He might be writing down his ideas, and we could work them out together in Salzburg. The essential point is that the whole thing should be very comic and, if possible, that it should have two good female parts—one seria, the other mezzo carattere, but both equal in importance. The third female might be quite buffa, and all the male parts if necessary. If you think anything can be done with Varesco, please speak to him very soon.
By way of inducement to Varesco, he sent him word that he might reckon on a fee of four or five hundred gulden, for that it was customary in Vienna to give the poet the receipts of the third representation. Some time after he asks again (June 7, 1783)
Do you know nothing of Varesco? I beg you not to forget; if I were in Salzburg we could work at it together so well, if we had a plan ready prepared.
Before Mozart went to Salzburg he had an instance of what he might expect in the opposition made to the insertion of his two airs for Adamberger and Madame Lange in L' OCA DEL CAIRO, 1783. Anfossi's "Curioso Indiscreto" (Vol. II., p. 326). On his arrival in Salzburg at the end of July, he found Varesco quite ready for the undertaking, which was to begin at once, and to be completed in Salzburg.
Among Mozart's remains were found in Varesco's handwriting the first act complete, and the prose table of contents in detail of the second and third acts of the opera "L' Oca del Cairo" ("The Goose of Cairo"). The dramatis personæ are as follows:—
The contents are briefly these:—
Don Pippo, Marchese di Ripasecca, a vain and haughty fool, has by his ill-treatment forced his wife, Donna Pantea, to leave him; he believes her dead, but she is living, concealed at a place over the seas. Biondello, hated by him, loves his daughter Celidora, whom he intends to marry to Count Lionetto di Casavuota; he himself has fallen in love with her companion Lavina, who has come to an understanding with Calandrino, Biondello's friend and Pantea's relative. The two maidens are confined in a fortified tower and closely guarded. In full conviction of his security, Don Pippo has been induced to promise Biondello that if he succeeds in gaining access to Celidora within the year, her hand shall be his reward. Hereupon, Calandrino, a skilful mechanic, has constructed an artificial goose large enough to contain a man, and with machinery capable of motion; this is conveyed to Pantea, who, disguised in Moorish costume, is to display it as a show; it is hoped that Pippo may consent to its exhibition before the two maidens, and that Biondello may thus be conveyed into the tower. As a condition Calandrino exacts from his friend a promise of Lavina's hand.
The opera begins on the anniversary of the wager. Don Pippo is about to marry Lavina, and awaits the arrival of Count Lionetto; his house is filled with preparations for festivity. The curtain rises on the whole household, including the coquettish maid Auretta and her lover the house-steward, Chichibio, having their hair dressed. Calandrino MOZART AS AN OPERA COMPOSER. enters in much perturbation; Pantea has not arrived, and a violent storm gives rise to the fear that she may fail altogether; some other device must be hit upon. He promises marriage to Chichibio and Auretta, if they can succeed in abstracting Don Pippo's clothes, and preventing his leaving the castle, which they undertake. The scene changes: Celidora and Lavina are conversing on a terrace on the fourth story of the tower, to which they have obtained access in secret; the lovers appear below on the other side of the moat, and a tender quartet is carried on. The new plan is to throw a bridge across the moat and scale the tower. Workmen arrive and the task is eagerly commenced; but Chichibio and Auretta, chattering about their marriage, have failed to keep watch, and now announce that Don Pippo has gone out; he himself speedily appears, summons the watch, stops the work, and drives away the lovers.
In the second act Pantea lands with the goose in a violent storm. It is a fair-day, and the assembled people are full of amazement at the natural and rational movements of the goose, which is supposed to come from Cairo. Auretta and Chichibio inform Don Pippo of the wonderful sight. He causes Pantea to come forward, and she informs him that the goose having lost its speech from fright during the storm can only be restored by the use of a certain herb growing in a lonely garden. Don Pippo, delighted, commissions Calandrino to take Pantea and the goose into the pleasure-garden, that so the two maidens may enjoy the spectacle. The finale represents the fair close to the tower, the two ladies looking on from the window. A dispute arises, in which Biondello takes part; Don Pippo, as magistrate, is called on to do justice; some ridiculous action is carried on, ending in a general tumult. Pantea then puts Biondello into the goose and enters the garden, while Calandrino informs Don Pippo that Biondello, in despair, has set out to sea in a small boat, which is confirmed by the weeping Auretta. Don Pippo, in high delight, forms a ludicrous wedding procession and proceeds to the tower, where Celidora and Lavina stand at the window while the goose makes various antics for the amusement of the crowd. Finally, Don Pippo appears in the great hall of the tower, accompanied by the two maidens and the goose, in full confidence of his triumph, and only waiting the arrival of Count Lionetto to celebrate the wedding. Chichibio enters with an uncourteous refusal from the Count. As Don Pippo is in the act of giving his hand to Lavina, Pantea advances in her true person, the goose begins to speak, opens, and Biondello steps out; Don Pippo is beside himself, and is ridiculed by them all; he ends by promising to amend his ways, and the three couples are made happy.
No doubt this summarised account has omitted to take note of many comic and effective touches; but on the other hand it has suppressed many absurdities—the general impression of a fantastic and senseless plot not being affected L'OCA DEL CAIRO, 1783. by the treatment of the details. In the first glow of delight at having a new libretto, Mozart set to work composing at once in Salzburg, and after his return to Vienna he anticipated different scenes that interested him; but he was soon seized with misgivings that the opera could not be put on the stage without important alterations. He wrote on the subject to his father (December 6, 1783):—
Only three more airs, and the first act of my opera is finished. With the aria buffa, the quartet, and the finale I can safely say I am perfectly satisfied—in fact, quite delighted. So that I should be sorry to have written so much good music in vain, which must be the case unless some indispensable alterations are made. Neither you, nor the Abbate Varesco, nor I, reflected that it would have a very bad effect—indeed, would ruin the opera—if neither of the two principal female characters were to appear on the stage until the last moment, but were to be always wandering about on the ramparts or terraces of the tower. One act of this might pass muster, but I am sure the audience would not stand a second. This objection first occurred to me in Linz, and I see no way out of it but to make some scenes of the second act take place in the fortress—camera della fortezza. The scene where Don Pippo gives orders to bring the goose in might be the room in which Celidora and Lavina are. Pantea comes in with the goose. Biondello pops out; they hear Don Pippo coming. In goes Biondello again. This would give an opening for a good quintet, which would be all the more comic because the goose sings too. I must confess to you, however, that my only reason for not objecting to the whole of the goose business is that two men of such penetration and judgment as yourself and Varesco see nothing against it. But there would still be time to think of something else. Biondello has only undertaken to make his way into the tower; whether he does it as a sham goose, or by any other trick, makes no difference at all. I cannot help thinking that many more comic and more natural scenes might be brought about if Biondello were to remain in human form. For instance, the news that Biondello had committed himself to the waves in despair, might arrive quite at the beginning of the second act, and he might then disguise himself as a Turk, or something of the kind, and bring Pantea in as a slave (Moorish, of course). Don Pippo is anxious to purchase a slave for his wife; and the slave-dealer and the Mooress are admitted into the fortress for inspection. This leads to much cajoling and mockery of her husband on the part of Pantea, which would improve the part, for the more comic the opera is the better. I hope you will explain my opinion fully to the Abbate Varesco, and I must beg him to set to work in earnest. I have worked hard enough in the short time. Indeed, I should have finished the first act, if I did not require some alterations made in some of the words; but I would rather you did not mention this to him at present.
In the postcript he again begs his father to consult Varesco, and hurry him on. On further consideration, however, he thought he had still conceded too much, and a few days afterwards he wrote (December 10, 1783):—
Do all you can to make my book a success. I should like to bring the ladies down from the ramparts in the first act, when they sing their airs, and I would willingly allow them to sing the whole finale upstairs.
Varesco was quite willing to make the alteration, which was easily to be effected by a change of scene. The altered version exists, together with the original text; but we know nothing further on the subject. Mozart seems to have made more extensive demands. He wrote to his father (December 24, 1783):—
Now, for what is most necessary with regard to the opera. The Abbate Varesco has written after Lavina's cavatina: "A cui serverà la musica della cavatina antecedente"—that is of Celidora's cavatina—but this will not do. The words of Celidora's cavatina are hopeless and inconsolable, while those of Lavina's are full of hope and consolation. Besides, making one character pipe a song after another is quite an exploded fashion, and never was a popular one. At the best it is only fitted for a soubrette and her lover in the ultime parti. My idea would be to begin the scene with a good duet, for which the same words, with a short appendix for the coda, would answer very well. After the duet, the conversation could proceed as before: "E quando s' ode il cam-panello della custode." Mademoiselle Lavina will have the goodness to take her departure instead of Celidora, so that the latter, as prima donna, may have an opportunity of singing a grand bravura air. This would, I think, be an improvement for the composer, the singers, and the audience, and the whole scene would gain in interest. Besides, it is scarcely likely that the same song would be tolerated from the second singer after being sung by the first. I do not know what you both mean by the following direction: At the end of the interpolated scene for the two women in the first act, the Abbate has written: "Siegue la scena VIII che prima era la VII e cosi cangiansi di mano in mano i numeri." This leads me to suppose that he intends the scene after the quartet, where the two ladies, one after the other, sing their little songs from the window, to remain. But that is impossible. The act would be lengthened out of all proportion, and quite spoiled. I always thought it ludicrous to read: Celidora. "Tu qui m' attendi, arnica. Alla custode farmi veder vogl' io; ci andrai tu puoi." Lavina: "Si dolce arnica, addio." (Celidora parte.) Lavina sings her song. Celidora comes back and says: "Eccomi, or vanne," &c.; and then out goes Lavina, and Celidora sings her air; they relieve one another, like soldiers on guard. It is much more natural L'OCA DEL CAIRO, 1783. also that, being all together for the quartet, to arrange their contemplated attack, the men should go out to collect the necessary assistants, leaving the two women quietly in their retreat. All that can be allowed them is a few lines of recitative. I cannot imagine that it was intended to prolong the scene, only that the direction for closing it was omitted by mistake. I am very curious to hear your good idea for bringing Biondello into the tower; if it is only comical enough, we will overlook a good deal that may be unnatural. I am not at all afraid of a few fireworks; all the arrangements here are so good that there is no danger of fire. "Medea" has been given repeatedly, at the end of which half the palace falls in ruins while the other half is in flames.
Whether Varesco refused to give up the "goose business," whether he was afraid of further endless emendations, or what his reasons were, who can tell? In any case no radical change was made in the text, and, much against his will, Mozart was forced to lay the opera aside. Besides a recitative and the cursory sketch of a tenor air, six numbers of the first act are preserved in draft score (422 K.), with, as usual, the voice parts and bass completely written out, and the ritornelli and accompaniment more or less exactly indicated for the different instruments. Four numbers belong to Auretta and Chichibio; the comparison with "Figaro" is an obvious one, and though Chichibio is far from being a Figaro, Auretta approaches much nearer to Susanna. The situation of her air (2) is not badly imagined. Calandrino, hearing from Auretta that Chichibio is very jealous, embraces her in jest and says, "What would Chichibio say if he saw us?" Thereupon that personage enters, and Auretta, pretending not to observe him, sings:—