Even to this day Sarastro and Tamino are regular starring and trial parts; unhappily, so is the Queen of Night for singers who possess the high F; and though the novelty and splendour of the scenery and stage accessories have been long since surpassed, and the interest in Freemasonry has died away, yet the "Zauberflöte" is still popular in the best sense of the word. It has been successfully performed in Dutch, 88 Swedish, 89 Danish, 90 and Polish; 91 but, as might have been expected, the "musica scelerata without any melody" was even less to the taste of the Italians than Mozart's PERFORMANCES AND IMITATIONS. other operas. 92 It is not surprising either that it was only moderately successful in London, where it was first performed in Italian 93 in 1811, then in English in 1837, 94 and in German by a German company in 1840; 95 but the songs and other pieces of the opera have always been well known and popular. 96
The "Zauberflöte" was given in Paris in 1791 curiously transformed by Lachnith under the title of "Jes Mystères d'Isis." 97 The piece was irrecognisable; everything miraculous, including the magic flute itself, and everything comic was omitted, Papageno being turned into the wise shepherd Bochoris; this, of course, involved the parodying of a great part of the music, and much was omitted even without this excuse. The omissions were made good by the insertion of pieces out of other operas by Mozart, e.g., the drinking-song from "Don Giovanni" arranged as a duet, an air from "Titus," also as a duet, and more of the same kind. Great liberties were taken with the music itself. The closing chorus, with Sarastro's recitative, formed the beginning of the opera; then followed the terzet "Seid uns zum zweiten-mal willkommen," sung by six priestesses; then a chorus from "Titus" (15); and then the original introduction. Monostatos' song was given to Papagena (Mona), the first air of the Queen of Night to Pamina, and the duet "Bei Mannern" was turned into a terzet. It can easily be imagined how distorted Mozart's music was by all these additions, erasures, and alterations. The performance called forth lively protests from the critics and connoisseurs, 98 French as well as German; 99 its defence was undertaken, curiously enough, by Cramer. 100 The opera was nicknamed "Les Misères d'Ici," and "l'opération" of the "dérangeur" Lachnith was discussed. 101 But all were agreed as to the excellence of the scenery and ballet, of the arrangement of particular scenes, and of the admirable performance of the orchestra and chorus, which may account for the fact that this deformity was one hundred and thirty times performed in Paris up to 1827. 102 On February 23, 1865, the unmutilated "Zauberflöte" was, for the first time, placed on the stage of the Théätre-Lyrique, translated by Nuitter and Beaumont, and had a brilliant success. 103
NO sooner was the "Zauberflöte" completed and performed than Mozart set to work with restless eagerness upon his still unfinished Requiem. 1 His friend, Jos. von Jacquin, calling upon him one day to request him to give pianoforte lessons to a lady who was already an admirable performer on the instrument, found him at his writing-table, hard at work on the Requiem. Mozart readily acceeded to the request, provided he might postpone the lessons for a time; "for," said he, "I have a work on hand which lies very near my heart, and until that is finished I can think of nothing else." 2 Other friends remembered SAD FOREBODINGS. afterwards how engrossed he had been in his task up to a very short time before his death. 3 The feverish excitement with which he laboured at it increased the indisposition which had attacked him at Prague. Even before the completion of the "Zauberflöte" he had become subject to fainting fits which exhausted his strength and increased his depression. The state of Mozart's mind at this time may be gathered from a curious note in Italian, written by him in September, 1791, to an unknown friend (Da Ponte? cf.,
Affmo Signore,—Vorrei seguire il vostro consiglio, ma come riuscirvi? ho il capo frastemato, conto a forza e non posso levarmi dagli occhi 1' immagine di questo incognito. Lo vedo di continuo, esso mi prega, mi sollecita, ed impaziente mi chiede il lavoro. Continuo perché il comporre mi stanca meno del riposo. Altronde non ho più da tremere. Lo sento a quel che provo, che l' ora suona; sono in procinto di spirare; ho finito prima di aver goduto del mio talento. La vita era pur si bella, la camera s' apriva sotto auspici tanto fortunati, ma non si puö cangiar il proprio destino. Nessuno micura [assicura] i propri giomi, bisogna rassenarsi, sarà quel che piacerà alla providenza, termino ecco il mio canto funebre, non devo lasciarlo imperfetto.
It was in vain that his wife, who had returned from Baden, sought to withdraw him from his work, and to induce him to seek relief from gloomy thoughts in the society of his friends. 5 One beautiful day, when they had driven to the Prater, and were sitting there quite alone, Mozart began to speak of death, and told his wife, with tears in his eyes, that he was writing his Requiem for himself. "I feel it too well," he continued; "my end is drawing near. I must have taken poison; I cannot get this idea out of my mind." 6 Horrified at this disclosure, Frau Mozart sought, ILLNESS AND DEATH. by every possible argument, to reason him out of such imaginations. 7 Fully persuaded that the assiduity with which he was working at the Requiem was increasing his illness, she took the score away from him and called in a medical adviser, Dr. Closset.
Some improvement in Mozart's state of health followed, and he was able to compose a cantata written by Schikaneder for a Masonic festival (623 K.), which was finished November 15, and the first performance conducted by himself. He was so pleased with the execution of this work, and with the applause it received, that his courage and pleasure in his art revived, and he was ready to believe that his idea of having taken poison was a result of his diseased imagination. He demanded the score of the Requiem from his wife, who gave it to him without any misgiving. The improvement, however, was of short duration, and Mozart soon relapsed into his former state of melancholy, talked much of having been poisoned, and grew weaker and weaker. His hands and feet began to swell, and partial paralysis set in, accompanied by violent vomiting. Good old Joseph Deiner (Vol. II., p. 300) used to tell how Mozart had come to him in November, 1791, looking wretched, and complaining of illness. He directed him to come to his house next morning to receive his wife's orders for their SERIOUS ILLNESS. winter supply of fuel. Deiner kept the appointment, but was informed by the maid-servant that her master had become so ill during the night that she had been obliged to fetch the doctor. The wife called him into the bedroom where Mozart was in bed. When he heard Deiner he opened his eyes and said, almost inaudibly, "Not to-day, Joseph; we have to do with doctors and apothecaries to-day." 8 On November 28 his condition was so critical that Dr. Closset called into consultation Dr. Sallaba, chief physician at the hospital. During the fortnight that he was confined to bed consciousness never left him. The idea of death was ever before his eyes, and he looked forward to it with composure, albeit loth to part with life. The success of the "Zauberflöte" seemed likely at last to open the door to fame and fortune; and during his last days of life he was assured of an annual subscription of one thousand florins from some of the Hungarian nobility, and of a still larger yearly sum from Amsterdam, in return for the periodical production of some few compositions exclusively for the subscribers. 9 It was hard to leave his art just when he was put in a position to devote himself to it, unharassed by the daily pressure of poverty; hard, too, to leave his wife and his two little children to an anxious and uncertain future. 10 Sometimes these ideas overpowered him, but generally he was tranquil and resigned, and never betrayed the slightest impatience. He unwillingly allowed his canary, of which he was very fond, to be removed to the next room, that he might not be disturbed by its noise. It was afterwards carried still farther out of hearing. Sophie Haibl says:—
When he was taken ill we made him night-shirts which could be put on without giving him the pain of turning round; and, not realising how ill he was, we made him a wadded dressing-gown against the time that he should be able to sit up; it amused him very much to follow our work as it proceeded. I came to him daily. Once he said to me,
"Tell the mother that I am going on very well, and that I shall be able to come and offer my congratulations on her fête-day (November 22) within the week."
He heard with intense interest of the repetition of the "Zauberflote," and when evening came he used to lay his watch beside him, and follow the performance in imagination: "Now the first act is over—now comes the mighty Queen of Night." 11 The day before his death he said to his wife: "I should like to have heard my 'Zauberflote' once more," and began to hum the birdcatcher's song in a scarcely audible voice. Kapellmeister Roser, who was sitting at his bedside, went to the piano and sang the song, to Mozart's evident delight. 12 The Requiem, too, was constantly in his mind. While he had been at work upon it he used to sing every number as it was finished, playing the orchestral part on the piano. The afternoon before his death he had the score brought to his bed, and himself sang the alto part. 13 Schack, as usual, took the soprano, Hofer, Mozart's brother-in-law, the tenor, and Gerl the bass. They got as far as the first bars of the Lacrimosa when Mozart, with the feeling that it would never be finished, burst into a violent fit of weeping, and laid the score aside. 14
When Frau Haibl came towards evening her sister, who was not usually wanting in self-control, met her in a state of agitation at the door, exclaiming: "Thank God you are here! He was so ill last night, I thought he could not live through the day; if it comes on again, he must die in the night." Seeing her at his bedside, Mozart said: "I am glad you are here; stay with me to-night, and see me die." Controlling her emotion, she strove to reason him out of such thoughts, but he answered: "I have the flavour of death on my THE END. tongue—I taste death; and who will support my dearest Constanze if you do not stay with her?" She left him for a moment to carry the tidings to her mother, who was looking anxiously for them. At her sister's wish she went to the priests of St. Peter's, and begged that one might be sent to Mozart as if by chance; they refused for a long time, and it was with difficulty she persuaded "these clerical barbarians" to grant her request. When she returned she found Süssmayr at Mozart's bedside in earnest conversation over the Requiem. "Did I not say that I was writing the Requiem for myself?" said he, looking at it through his tears. And he was so convinced of his approaching death that he enjoined his wife to inform Albrechtsberger of it before it became generally known, in order that he might secure Mozart's place at the Stephanskirche, which belonged to him by every right (Vol. II., p. 277, note). Late in the evening the physician arrived, having been long sought, and found in the theatre, which he could not persuade himself to leave before the conclusion of the piece. He told Süssmayr in confidence that there was no hope, but ordered cold bandages round the head, which caused such violent shuddering that delirium and unconsciousness came on, from which Mozart never recovered. Even in his latest fancies he was busy with the Requiem, blowing out his cheeks to imitate the trumpets and drums. Towards midnight he raised himself, opened his eyes wide, then lay down with his face to the wall, and seemed to fall asleep. At one o'clock (December 5) he expired. 15
At early morning the faithful Deiner was roused by the maid-servant "to come and dress" her master; he went at once and performed the last friendly offices for Mozart. The body was clothed in a black robe and laid on a bier, which was carried into the sitting-room and deposited near the piano. A constant flow of visitors mourned and wept as they gazed on him; those who had known him intimately loved him; his fame as an artist had become universal, and his sudden death brought home to all men the extent of their ILLNESS AND DEATH. loss. The "Wiener Zeitung" (1791, No. 98) made the following announcement:—
We have to announce with regret the death of the Imperial Court Composer, Wolfgang Mozart, which took place between four and five o'clock this morning. Famous throughout Europe from earliest childhood for his singular musical genius, he had developed his natural gifts, and by dint of study had raised himself to an equality with the greatest masters; his universally favourite and admired compositions testify to this fact, and enable us to estimate the irreparable loss which the musical world has sustained in his death.
A letter from Prague, of December 12, 1791, announced: 16 —
Mozart is—dead. He returned from Prague in a state of suffering, which gradually increased; dropsy set in, and he died in Vienna at the end of last week. The swelling of his body after death led to the suspicion of his having been poisoned. His last work was a funeral Mass, which was performed at his obsequies. His death will cause the Viennese to realise for the first time what they have lost in him. 17 His life was troubled by the constant machination of cabals, whose enmity was doubtless sometimes provoked by his sans souci manner. Neither his "Figaro" nor his "Don Juan" were as enthusiastically received in Vienna as they were in Prague. Peace be to his ashes!
Mozart's wife, who had been so unwell the day before his death that the physician had prescribed for her, was rendered completely prostrate in mind and body by his death. In her despair she lay down upon his bed, desiring to be seized with the same illness, and to die with him. Van Swieten, who had hastened to bring her what consolation and assistance he could, persuaded her to leave the house of death, and to take up her abode for the present with some friends living near. He undertook the care of the funeral, and having regard to the needy circumstances of the widow, he made the necessary arrangements as simply and cheaply as possible. The funeral expenses (on the scale of the third class) amounted to 8 fl. 36 kr., and there was an additional charge of 3 fl. for the hearse. Rich man and distinguished patron INTERMENT AND GRAVE. as he was, it seems never to have occurred to Van Swieten that it would have been becoming in him to undertake the cost as well as the care of a fitting burial for the greatest genius of his age. At three o'clock in the afternoon of December 6 the corpse of Mozart received the benediction in the transept chapel on the north side of St. Stephen's Church. A violent storm of snow and rain was raging, and the few friends who were assembled—among them Van Swieten, Salieri, Süssmayr, Kapellm. Roser, and the violoncellist Orsler 18 —stood under umbrellas round the bier, which, was then carried through the Schulerstrasse to the churchyard of St. Mark's. The storm continued to rage so fiercely that the mourners decided upon turning back before they reached their destination, 19 and not a friend stood by when the body of Mozart was lowered into the grave. For reasons of economy no grave had been bought, and the corpse was consigned to a common vault, made to contain from fifteen to twenty coffins, which was dug up about every ten years and filled anew: no stone marked the resting-place of Mozart. Good old Deiner, who had been present at the benediction, asked the widow if she did not intend to erect a cross to the departed; she answered that there was to be one. She no doubt imagined that the priest who had performed the ceremony would see to the erection of the cross. When she was sufficiently recovered from her first grief to visit the churchyard, she found a fresh gravedigger, who was unable to point out Mozart's grave; and all her inquiries after it were fruitless. Thus it is that, in spite of repeated attempts to discover it, the resting-place of Mozart remains unknown. 20
Poor Constanze and her two children were now placed in the saddest possible position. Not more than sixty florins of ready money were available at Mozart's death; to this might be added 133 fl. 20 kr. of outstanding accounts, the furniture, wardrobe, and scanty library, which were valued at less than 400 florins. But there were debts to be paid, not only to generous creditors like Puchberg, who rendered every assistance in settling the affairs of his deceased friend without any thought of his own claim, but to workmen and tradesmen, who must be paid at all costs; the doctor's bill alone amounted to 250 florins. 21 In this emergency, Constanze appealed first to the generosity of the Emperor. One of Mozart's attached pupils informed her that the Emperor had been very unfavourably disposed towards her, in consequence of the calumnies spread abroad by Mozart's enemies to the effect that his dissipation and extravagance had involved him in debts amounting to more than 30,000 florins; and she was advised to make her application in person, so as to persuade the Emperor of the falsehood of such reports. 22 At the audience which was granted to her, she boldly declared that Mozart's great genius had raised up enemies against him, who had embittered his existence by their intrigues and calumnies. These slanderers had multiplied tenfold the amount of his debts, and she was prepared to satisfy all claims with a sum of 3,000 florins. Even this amount of liability was not the result of thoughtless extravagance, but had been inevitably incurred by the uncertainty of their income, by frequent illnesses and unforeseen calls on their resources. Appeased by Frau Mozart's representations, the Emperor encouraged her to give a concert, in which he took so generous an interest that the proceeds enabled her to pay all her husband's debts.
ONE of the first cares of Mozart's widow was the Requiem (626 K.). 1 Mozart having left it unfinished, she could not but fear that the Unknown would not only refuse to complete the stipulated payment, but would demand the return of what had been already paid. In this dilemma, she called various friends into counsel, and hit upon the idea of continuing such portions of the work as Mozart had left, and of presenting it entire to the Unknown. The completion was first intrusted to Joh. Eybler; 2 witness the following certificate from him:—
The undersigned hereby acknowledges that the widow Frau Konstanze Mozart has intrusted to him, for completion, the Requiem begun by her late husband. He undertakes to finish it by the middle of the ensuing Lent; and also gives his assurance that it shall neither be copied nor given into other hands than those of the widow.
Joseph Eybler.
Vienna, December 21, 1791.
He began his task by filling in the instrumentation in Mozart's manuscript as far as the Confutatis, THE REQUIEM. and writing two bars of a continuation of the Lacrimosa, 3 but he then abandoned the work in despair. Other musicians seem to have declined it after him until it finally fell to the lot of Süssmayr. He had been Mozart's pupil in composition, had lent a hand in "Titus" (p. 288), and had often gone over the parts of the Requiem already composed with Mozart, who had consulted him as to the working-out of the composition and the principal points of the instrumentation. The widow, at a later time, said to Stadler:
As Mozart grew weaker Süssmayr had often to sing through with him and me what had been written, and thus received regular instruction from Mozart. I seem to hear Mozart saying, as he often did: "Ah, the oxen are on the hill again! You have not, mastered that yet, by a long way." 4
This expression was also well remembered by her sister Sophie, and we can enter into it, remembering the manner in which Mozart himself wrote and developed his compositions (Vol. II., p. 423).
The first two movements, Requiem and Kyrie, were finished and written out in full score by Mozart; there can be no question about them. 5 The Dies iræ was sketched out in his usual way, the voice parts completely written out, together with the fundamental bass—sometimes figured—and the instrumental parts where they had to go without the voices; where the accompaniment was at all independent the subject was indicated sufficiently clearly to be carried on and filled in subsequently. The score was left in this state as far as the last verse of the Dies iræ; Mozart stopped at the words:—
He had not set himself, however, to compose the Requiem straight through, but had thrown off different parts of it according to the mood he happened to be in. Thus before the Dies iræ was finished he had composed the Offertorium, of which the two movements, Domine Jesu Christe and Hostias, were left virtually complete in the same state as those mentioned above.
It will now be understood how Mozart, going through the score, either at the piano or the desk with his pupil Süssmayr, would discuss the various points of the instrumentation, would encourage him to make suggestions, and explain his own ideas and intentions, so that Süssmayr would in many respects have formed a lively image in his mind of what the completed score would be, and would often be able faithfully to reproduce Mozart's own intentions. Of the remaining movements, Sanctus, Benedictus, and Agnus Dei, there were no such sketches in existence.
Süssmayer's first care was to copy out all that Mozart had left imperfect, "that there might not be two handwritings together," as the widow wrote to André (Càcilia, VI., p. 202)—she must have had Eybler's promised completion in her mind—and then to fill in the instrumentation according to Mozart's apparent design. Pages 11-32 of Mozart's original manuscript, containing the Dies iræ as far as the Confutatis, fell into the hands of the Abbé Stadler, and were by him bequeathed to the Imperial Library in Vienna. The remaining sheets (33-45) containing the Lacrimosa, Domine, and Hostias, belonged to Eybler, who presented them to the same library. That Mozart had contemplated carrying them out, and uniting them into one score with the Requiem and Kyrie is proved by the continuous numbering of the pages in his own handwriting; there is no instance to be found of his having recopied a score so sketched out when filling it in. 6
Süssmayr's appointed task, therefore, was the composition "from his own head" (ganz neu) of the concluding part of the Lacrimosa, the Sanctus, Benedictus, and Agnus Dei; only "in order to give the work more unity" he repeated the fugue of the Kyrie with the words "cum sanctis." The Requiem thus completed—the two first movements in Mozart's handwriting, the remainder in Süssmayr's—was delivered over to the owner. 7 If it was intended that the latter should accept the whole composition as by Mozart, appearances were certainly not calculated to undeceive him. The score in question passed in 1838 into the possession of the Imperial Library. 8 The first impression of every one who sees it, and who is familiar with Mozart's handwriting, must be that the whole of it was written by him, and that the autograph of Mozart's Requiem in its entirety is before him. 9 Closer examination and comparison raise suspicion, many discrepancies are discovered, although perhaps only trifling ones, and the fact must be borne in mind that, to a question addressed to her on the subject, Mozart's widow answered (February 10, 1839) that a full score of the Requiem in Mozart's handwriting could not exist, since it was finished not by him but by Süssmayr.
A comparison of the manuscript with several scores undoubtedly written by Süssmayr—a terzet and bass air, composed by him in 1793 for insertion in the "Serva Padrona"—solved the riddle. It was the same handwriting, closely resembling that of Mozart, with the same deviations from it which had been pointed out in the Requiem. There could SÜSSMAYR'S WORK. no longer be any doubt that Süssmayr had written the score from the Dies iræ—the paging begins afresh, starting with page 1 at the Sanctus. In one place the transcriber betrays himself by a mistake. The closing bars of the Tuba mirum are noted for the stringed instruments by Mozart, as follows:—[See Page Image]
In his copy Süssmayr has omitted the octave passage for the violins, and the characteristic instrumentation for the violas, and has filled up the omission in a way which is certainly no improvement on the original. 10
Süssmayr, it is clear, had so modelled his handwriting on that of Mozart that the two could only be distinguished by trifling idiosyncrasies. There are other instances of the same kind—Joh. Seb. Bach's second wife, for instance, writing a hand which only an expert could distinguish from her husband's, and Joachim's manuscript being, at one time at least, almost identical with Mendelssohn's. As far as the score of the Requiem was concerned, the wish to persuade the owner of the Requiem that he was possessed of a composition exclusively by Mozart may have come to the aid of THE REQUIEM. custom and natural aptitude. There is no doubt that Count Walsegg accepted the score as having been completed and written by Mozart at least as far as the Sanctus. 11 Whether this was expressly stated, or merely taken for granted by him, does not appear, and the fact that the composition had been ordered by him with a view to a deception of another kind is a curious coincidence, but does not make the case any the better.
Under these circumstances it was to the interest of the widow to maintain that the Requiem had been completed by Mozart. This explains the assertion of Rochlitz 12 (who according to his own account had questioned Mozart's widow at Leipzig in 1796 concerning the whole story of the Requiem) that Mozart had completed the Requiem before his death. 13 But a secret known to so many could hardly be long kept. The widow had retained a copy of the work, and a performance of it took place soon after in Jahn's Hall at Vienna, the hall being densely crowded. It was pretty well known to the performers what portions were by Mozart and what by Süssmayr, 14 and the knowledge was not slow to spread. It reached Munich 15 and Prague, where at the first performance of the Requiem no secret was made of the fact that the Sanctus was composed by Süssmayr. 16 The widow sold manuscript copies of the Requiem to various noblemen, 17 and allowed others to make copies of it; 18 Hiller copied the PUBLICATION. score note for note with his own hand, and wrote on the title-page "Opus,summum viri summi," expressing no doubt whatever as to the whole work being that of Mozart. 19 Not content with the profits thus accruing from the Requiem, the widow turned her attention towards its publication. The idea occurred to her that a public appeal to the Unknown might induce him to forego his claim on the composition. 20 The appeal, however, was not made, for the publishers, Breitkopf and Hàrtel, not conceiving themselves to be bound by the agreement made with Mozart, resolved on bringing out the work from the several transcripts of it which had fallen into their hands. Desirous, however, that the work should be produced with all possible correctness, they applied to the widow for her copy, with which, having no power to stop the publication, she saw no objection to furnishing them. To their question (prompted by the reports current as to the authorship of the work) whether the Requiem was wholly and solely composed by Mozart, she answered explicitly as follows (March 27, 1799):—
As to the Requiem, it is true that I possess the celebrated one, written shortly before his death. I know of no Requiem but this, and declare all others to be spurious. 21 How far it is his own composition—it is so to near the end—I will inform you when you receive it from me. The circumstances were as follows: Seeing his end approaching, he spoke with Herr Süssmayr, the present Imperial Kapellmeister, and requested him, if he should die without completing it, to repeat the first fugue in THE REQUIEM. the last part, as is customary; and told him also how he should develop the conclusion, of which the principal subjects were here and there already carried out in some of the parts. And this Herr Süssmayr actually did.
On being pressed for further information she referred the publishers to Süssmayr himself, who answered in the letter already mentioned (February 8, 1800). He nowhere asserts having received a decided commission from Mozart, nor does he mention the concluding fugue, so that it is plain that the widow turned her not very clear recollection of the transaction as far as possible in favour of the integrity of the Requiem. Count Walsegg, who had already given himself out as the composer of the Requiem, must have felt considerable annoyance at its wide dissemination as Mozart's work; but as yet he had made no sign. When however, in 1799, Breitkopf and Hàrtel announced the publication of the Requiem from the manuscript in the possession of Mozart's widow, he thought it time to put forward his claim. He sent his own copy of the score to his advocate, Dr. Sortschan, at Vienna, and through him demanded explanation and compensation from the widow. Stadler and Nissen negotiated with the advocate in her name. Stadler pointed out which parts had Mozart and which Süssmayr for their author, and the advocate wrote down all that he said for the information of the Count, to whom he returned his score. 23 As to compensation, the widow wrote to Hàrtel (January 30, 1800) that the Count had demanded the restitution of fifty ducats, but that he would perhaps be satisfied with receiving a number of copies of the work. Nissen at length induced the Count "with much difficulty and after many threats" to accept as payment transcripts of several unpublished compositions by Mozart, 24 and even to allow the widow to revise the printed score by a comparison of it with his own. 25
As the result of this unsatisfactory transaction to all concerned in it, we may conclude that the Requiem and Kyrie are the work of Mozart as we have them, that the movements from the Dies iræ to the first eight bars of the Lacrimosa, also the Domine Jesu and Hostias, were finished by Mozart in the voice part and the bass, and that the principal points of the instrumentation were also indicated by him, leaving only the details to be elaborated. This, however, is not by any means so easy and purely mechanical an undertaking as has been supposed, and Mozart's verbal suggestions must not be underrated. As regards the last three numbers, Süssmayr's statement that they had been "composed (verfertigt) entirely afresh" by him offers no decided testimony on the point. Stadler's account 26 ("the widow told me that after Mozart's death a few scraps of paper with music on them had been found on his writing-desk, and had been handed over to Herr Süssmayr; what they contained, or what use Süssmayr made of them, I do not know") admits the possibility, but only the possibility, that these scraps were sketches for the last movements. 27 The repeatedly expressed doubt as to whether "these flowers really grew in Süssmayr's garden" can only be supported upon internal evidence.
The serious spirit in which Mozart undertook the composition of his Requiem, the intensity of his absorption in it, and the artistic labour which he bestowed upon it, are best evidenced by the work itself. 28 It is remarkable that towards the close of his life, when increasing illness disposed his mind to serious reflection, his musical labours should have been calculated to turn his thoughts upon death and the grave. On the one hand his views as a Freemason, which were both earnest and sincere, found their expression in the "Zauberflote"; and, on the other, his religious convictions THE REQUIEM. asserted for the last time in the Requiem the sway over his mind and conscience which they had never lost. 29 The two sets of mental activities thus roused found their common centre in Mozart's mind, and impelled him to the production of his most powerful and most important works. The similarity of thought and tendency displayed in the Requiem and the "Zauberflöte" is observable even in the combinations of external means in corresponding parts of the two works. The combination of basset-horns, bassoons, and trombones, and here and there of trumpets and drums, with the stringed instruments, which gave so singular an expression of earnest solemnity to the tone-colouring of the "Zauberflöte," is made use of again in the Requiem.
But the tone-blending of the latter work is nevertheless limited, the clearer wind instruments—flutes, oboes, clarinets and the softer horns—being left out altogether, and the frequent orchestral characterisation depending altogether upon the varied combinations of the instruments named above.
The view upheld in the opera that serious ideas must be expressed in corresponding severity of form is even more decided in the Requiem, in so far as Mozart must have regarded as natural and inevitable the identification of certain fixed forms with the musical expression of religious emotion in an act of worship. The praiseworthy feeling which leads an artist, who believes himself to be offering his work for the service of the Most High, to bestow his best thoughts and his best workmanship upon it, cannot fail also to have influenced him. The pleasure which, after his study of Handel's oratorios and the strong impression made on him by Bach's motetts, Mozart took in the severely contrapuntal style of composition is evinced both in the "Zauberflöte" and in the two organ pieces composed in December, 1790, and March, 1791. But the main inducement to this form was doubtless the facility with which it expressed a serious, controlled and concentrated frame of mind, allowing at the same KYRIE—INTROITUS. time much freedom of characteristic and individual expression. The chief significance of the Requiem rests herein, that it proves these forms, with their fixed laws and strongly marked features, to have more than a merely abstract or historical value; it proves them to be in fact, when artistically conceived and scientifically handled, capable of giving appropriate expression to the deepest emotion in which the human heart finds vent. 30
In considering the Requiem, a distinction must be made between the different parts of this kind of Mass and the different degrees of importance which they receive in relation to the act of worship with which they are associated.
The Kyrie is preceded by the Introitus, beginning with a prayer for the departed. The bassoons and basset-horns, in successive imitation, give utterance to the soft, sustained melody of the prayer, supported by a simple accompaniment on the stringed instruments; it is interrupted by four clashing trumpet chords announcing the approach of judgment, and not again recurring until the day of doom is there. Thereupon the voices immediately enter, falling in from the bass upwards; but a syncopated figure for the violins gives the petition for repose an expression of painful unrest, called forth by the contemplation of death and the coming judgment; soon, however, the clouds are pierced by the divine light which is finally to disperse them, and the movement comes to a peaceful end after an outburst of confidence and strength rendered by the orchestra. After a short transition passage come the words of the psalm, "Lord, we will magnify Thee upon Zion, and pay our vows unto the Most High." In order to emphasise these as the words of Scripture, Mozart has set them to an old chorale melody and given them to a soprano voice, which utters them in clear, pure tones, like consolation from above. The chorale, as has been already remarked (Vol. I., p. 200), is the two-part tropus of the ninth church mode to the psalm "In exitu Israel de Ægypto," and had previously been made use of by Mozart as a Cantus firmus THE REQUIEM. in his "Betulia Liberata"; but what a difference between the work of the youth and that of the matured master! 31 While the soprano chorus takes up the same melody firmly and forcibly with the words "Thou that hearest prayer, unto Thee shall all flesh come!" the other voices fall in in animated movement, and an energetic figure for the violins increases the force of the expression. Then the petition for eternal rest is renewed with a stronger expression of confidence, but still with the ground-tone of painful agitation, rendered, by the union with the first motif of a second, more animated and more forcible. This second subject has already been hinted at in the transition passage to the psalm texts, from which also the passage accompanying the texts is taken, and here first fully asserts itself, the psychological development thus coinciding with the musical climax. The climax reaches its highest point in the petition for eternal light, which the divided voices utter alternately and repeat in concert with tender, pleading supplication.
The ejaculations "Kyrie eleison!" and "Christe eleison!" are bound together as the two themes of a double fugue (the first strong and firm, the second agitated and impulsive), which are carried out together in inextricable entanglement—their expression heightened by the chromatic construction towards the close, until in constantly increasing climax they come to a pause on a harshly dissonant chord, and then, as it were, collect themselves and unite in quiet composure. This fugue 32 has given rise to the extremes of criticism, laudatory and the reverse; 33 G. Weber could not bear to believe that Mozart KYRIE. could have written such "Gurgeleien" as the chromatic passages of the Christe eleison, 34 and others have looked in vain for the pious humility of expression proper to such a solemn appeal to the mercy of the Redeemer. 35 Whether the treatment of the keys adopted in this movement is in accordance with the requirements of a strict fugue, must be decided by the masters of the school; it is undeniable that on it depends the character and effect of the movement, and that the essential laws of counterpoint are here apprehended and turned to account with deep insight into their true nature. 36
The execution of the chromatic passages is difficult certainly; but, apart from the fact that both older and contemporary masters, who wrote for trained choirs—Bach, for instance, or Handel, or Haydn—made similar demands on the skill of their performers, they are perfectly possible if taken in the right time, and the effect produced by them is probably that which Mozart intended. The conception of the movement is clearly expressed, and requires neither explanation nor apology. 37 The exclamation, "Lord, have mercy upon us!" is capable of very varied expression; in the mouth of one in the agony of death, burdened with sin and about to appear before the Judge of all men, it becomes an agonising appeal for mercy. This state of mind has already been expressed, and rises at the close of the Requiem into such an intensity of longing after eternal light, that the anguished yet not despairing cry of the Kyrie is perfectly naturally led up to. The two feelings are expressed in the two themes of the fugue, although, in accordance with the character of the THE REQUIEM. Mass, even the confidence is penetrated with a feeling of grief. In such a mood the element of agitation naturally rises higher and higher, until at length the anguish of suspense finds vent in the heartrending cry for mercy which leads to composure and resignation. The two movements of the Requiem and the Kyrie are thus formed into a whole of perfect harmonic unity, and lead the way to the Dies iræ.
In view of this unmistakable unity of conception and construction it appears strange that decided traces of Handel's influence should appear in the principal subjects. Stadler remarks that Mozart has borrowed the motif of the Requiem from the first motif of Handel's "Dirge on the death of Queen Caroline"—"as some loose sheets among his retrains show"—and has worked it out after his own manner. 38 This can only allude to the preliminary sketches of this portion of the Requiem such as Mozart was accustomed to make for contrapuntal work before writing the score (Vol. II., p. 433), and of such there must have been a great number during the composition of his Requiem. Stadler's conjecture that they were vestiges of Mozart's youthful studies is unfounded; he was not acquainted with Handel's works in his youth, nor until they were introduced to him by Van Swieten (Vol. II., p. 386), under whose direction he rearranged Handel's oratorios between 1788-1790 (p. 218). Before this, the anthem in question cannot have been known to him. In this beautiful work, composed in December, 1737, 39 Handel has taken the Chorale, "Herr Jesu Christ, du wahres Gut," or, "Wenn mein Stündlein vorhanden ist', 40 as Cantus firmus to the first chorus, and has made further use of the same theme in the fugued concluding chorus. It is very unlikely that Mozart deliberately chose out the subject in order to work it out in a different way to Handel; it was more probably so stamped on his memory as to have suggested itself naturally as suited to the words before him, and to have then HANDEL'S INFLUENCE. been quite independently worked out by him. Stadler also points out that Mozart has taken the motif to the Kyrie from one of Handel's oratorios. The chorus "Halleluja! we will rejoice in Thy salvation." from Handel's "Joseph," contains both the themes of Mozart's Kyrie, but in the major key; again, the principal subject of the Kyrie eleison has been carried out as a fugue in the minor in the well-known and beautiful chorus of the Messiah, "By His stripes." A comparison of this fugue with that of the Requiem, shows that the adaptation has not merely consisted in the change from a major to a minor key, and that the actual motif, a very favourable one for treatment in counterpoint—[See Page Image]
and one constantly occurring in the fugal movements of every age, here serves only as a nucleus from which the master proceeds to develop his own independent creation. The essential principle in the construction of a double fugue is the combination of two themes, each bearing a necessary relation to the other. In the chorus in "Joseph" are two motifs exactly answering to each other; and it can scarcely be doubted that Mozart was struck with the combination and adopted it, although, as the examples adduced will show, his working-out of the motifs is essentially his own. Handel only really worked out the second motif—one, by the way, which often recurs in others of his works—and this in very free treatment; the first only occasionally emerges from the passages which play around it, like a huge rock almost overwhelmed by the billows. Mozart has undertaken such a fugal elaboration of both motifs as presupposes a radically different treatment impossible without a new intellectual conception of the task before him. Still more essential does this reconception appear when it is remembered that the supplication of a sinner for mercy was to take the place of a joyful offering of praise and thanksgiving. The transposition to a minor key involves at the outset so complete a reconstruction of the harmonic treatment as to point to a new creation THE REQUIEM. rather than an adaptation. We here stand in the presence of one of the mysteries of music; how it is that one and the same musical idea, embodied in one definite form, should be capable by means of artistic arrangement of expressing different and even totally opposite emotions. It is true, doubtless, that invention is the characteristic gift of genius, but absolute novelty is not to be considered as altogether indispensable to invention. In music, as in every other art, the creation of an individual becomes common property for his successors, whose task it is so to develop and carry it on as in their turn to create and construct an original and undying work. Richly endowed natures, in the consciousness of their power of producing what is perfectly original from?any given point, often undisguisedly follow the impulse given by a predecessor to their imagination. A striking proof of this is given by Haydn, who has written a double fugue as the last movement of his Quartet in F minor, which might appear a deliberate attempt at rivalry, but which has in reality every claim to independence. To what extent Handel himself has employed, retouched, and re-elaborated melodies, not only of previous occurrence in his own works, but borrowed from other musicians, has lately been pointed out by Chrysander; and one of the most striking examples of such musical plagiarism is Gluck's expressive air from "Iphigenie in Tauris," "Je t'implore, et je tremble," which was unmistakably suggested by the beautiful Gigue in Seb. Bach's Clavier Studies (I., part I.). 41 Neither of these two great masters could be suspected of borrowing ideas for lack of invention. 42
A curious part of the Requiem, of special prominence in the musical construction of the Mass, is the old Latin hymn, DIES IRÆ. Dies iræ, which is generally not quite accurately described as a Sequence. 43 It had grown into a custom in the service of the Mass that at the Alleluja of the Gradual in High Mass, which was repeated by the congregation, and then again by the choir, the last syllable "ja" should be extended into a jubilus, upon which long-drawn-out florid progressions (sequentæ) were sung, of different forms for different festivals. Gradually these became so elaborate as to offer great difficulties in execution and to require special practice, and the idea arose of providing these merely vocalised melodies (neumæ, or divisions) with words which were called prosæ, because they were confined to no particular metre or rhythm, but followed the melody, a syllable to every note. The greatest development of these prosæ, which were now called sequentiæ, was made in the ninth century by Notker the Stammerer for his scholars and successors in the musical school of St. Gall. 44 If he did not actually invent them, he gave them their essential form. Proceeding from the old alleluja jubilation, he founded upon it a fixed form, consisting partly in regularly recurring cadences, partly in the twofold repetition of each melodic progression, with the frequent employment of a kind of refrain. This gave to the words a certain amount of regularity, still however far from any strictness of rhythm or metre. These Sequences introduced a fresh element of animated movement into the rigid uniformity of the ritual, and, coming in the place of the responses, gave the congregation an effective share in the service. They had therefore a reciprocal effect on the national poetry, and were developed side by side with it. In process of time rhyme, at first only occasionally appearing, became general. The two lines set to the corresponding melodic choral progressions were connected by rhyme, as well as the lines of the refrain. Then they were united into THE REQUIEM. verses, and gradually the number of syllables in each line was made equal. The Sequences, which allowed of very great variety of form, were extremely popular in Germany, France, and England—less so in Italy; and so many were written, often set to well-known melodies, that they seemed to imperil the strictly conventional character of the Mass. The Church therefore forbade the use of all but three—"Victimæ Paschali," "Veni, sancte Spiritus," and "Lauda Sion salvatorem"—which alone are included in the revised Breviary after the Council of Trent in 1568.
There can be no Sequence properly so-called in a Requiem, because there is no Alleluja to which it can serve as the supplement; but, following the analogy of the Sequence, a hymn on the last judgment was added to the Tractus, which follows the Gradual, as a preparation for the reading of the Gospel. The date of the introduction of this hymn is uncertain, but it is mentioned as an integral portion of the Requiem by Barthol. Albizzi in 1385, and was acknowledged and retained as such, together with the three Sequences named above. The author of the hymn is not certainly identified, but it was most probably the Franciscan Thomas, of Celano, who was living in 1255. 45
The importance of the Dies iræ from a musical point of view is determined by the fact that it takes the place of the Gloria and the Credo, which are not sung in the Requiem. Instead of the joyful confidence of these movements, the reflections of sinful man in the presence of judgment here find their expression, and this obviously determines the tone of the whole. The euphonious force and beauty of the hymn, which have not been attained in any of the numerous translations made of it, distinguish it as made for music, 46 the subject being also very favourable to composition. With graphic force the terrors of judgment are painted with all ecclesiastical severity, and with constant reference to the actual words of Scripture, while the mercy and DIES IRÆ. loving-kindness of the Redeemer are dwelt on with equal emphasis. The fear of damnation is tempered by the hope of salvation, and from the waitings of remorse rises the prayer of the trusting believer. Intense and varied emotions are thrown into relief by strong contrast. Brief but pregnant suggestions give occasion for powerful musical characterisation, favoured also by the isolated position of the hymn in the service. Just as the preacher addresses his solemn warning to the congregation with more of individual emphasis than the priest who offers the sacrifice of the Mass, so the composer who depicts the terrors of the last judgment, so as to bring them home to the imagination of his hearers, has freer individual scope than if he were merely following the different acts of worship. In the Dies iræ, therefore, we have a freer style, a more vivid expression than elsewhere. Nor is it so bound by the usages of tradition as the other parts of the Mass, although a division of the hymn into particular sections is indicated by the arrangement of the subject, and necessitated by the conditions of musical construction.
The hymn begins by representing the destruction of the world, which is to precede the coming of the Lord, and the expression must therefore be forcible and animated even to excess. Here, then, for the first time the chorus enters as a compact mass, only dividing once, when the basses exclaim: "Quantus tremor est futurus!" the only attempt at tone-painting, while the other voices wail: "Dies iræ! dies illa!" until they all unite to express the fearful majesty in which the Judge shall appear. The effect of this chorus in contrast to what has gone before rests in great measure on the high position of the voices; their shrill, clear tone, heightened by the string accompaniment of semiquavers or syncopated notes, is expressive of strong agitation. Without having recourse to any new devices—trombones are omitted here that the shrill effect may not be impaired—an altered tone-colouring transports the hearer to an altogether new region of ideas. The harmonising adds to the effect by the occurrence of harsh, rugged chords—especially by the transition from E major to C minor at the repetition of the "Quantus THE REQUIEM. tremor" and the return to A major; not to mention other striking features, such as the imitative passage for the tenor at the first "Quantus tremor," which expresses amazement in the most vivid manner.
After bringing before the mind of the hearers the tumult and horror of the destruction of the world, the judgment begins—the trumpets call all created beings before the throne of the Judge. A tenor trumpet makes the announcement in a simple passage, which is taken up by a bass voice, and the two unite with a solemn and dignified effect. 47 Then one after another a tenor, alto, and soprano voice describe the judgment and its unmitigated severity, and at last combine in trembling supplication at the words, "Cum vix iustus sit securus." Mozart has here, apparently, intentionally refrained from emphasising the terrors of judgment, wishing to heighten the contrast of the destruction of the world with the appearance of the Judge, and its effect on the conscience as well as the senses of mankind; he aimed at expressing this effect by means of a soul-elevating calm; but he has fallen short of his endeavours. The movement is in itself expressive, dignified, and full of euphonious beauty, especially towards the close, but it fails to rouse in us a sense of the grandeur and elevation which belong to the subject. 48
The idea that no created being is justified before God recalls the conception of the Judge throned in His awful glory, which is expressed with terrible force in the chorus that follows. The plan of it shows clearly the influence of the words on the musical conception. The thrice-repeated exclamation "Rex!" and then "Rex tremendæ majestatis," makes, even when spoken, a strong impression, but when sung by the whole strength of the chorus in simple, powerful chords, supported by the wind instruments, the effect is almost overpowering, and is heightened by the strongly DIES IRÆ. punctuated passage for the strings, sinking, as it were; into terrified silence at each recurrence of the exclamation. The idea of the mercy of the Redeemer is at first subordinate to this impression: while sopranos and altos in strict imitation repeat the "Rex tremendae majestatis," and the stringed instruments elaborate their figure in two-part imitation, the tenors and basses announce "Qui salvandos salvas gratis" with a characteristic motif, also in strict imitation; and this is repeated, with alternations of the upper and lower parts, until they all four unite in the whole sentence, forming a movement of concisest strength and severity. The declaration of mercy calls forth the prayer, beginning with the single appeal, "Salva me!" repeated to the gradually dying passage for the stringed instruments, and finally concentrating all its strength and intensity of emotion in the prayer: 49 "Salva me, Fons pietatis!" 50
And now the idea gains ground of the merciful Saviour and His work in reconciling mankind with God; Him we beseech to intercede for souls conscious of their sinfulness. The verses which are devoted to this division of the subject are given to a quartet of solo voices, as appropriate to the gentler and more individual tone of the emotions depicted. The quartet in question is one of the longest and most elaborate movements of the Requiem, and in its plan and arrangement, in the wealth and importance of its different motifs, in the delicacy of its detail, and the spirit which breathes from it throughout, it is perhaps the finest of them all; nor is it too much to say that no more beautiful and noble piece of music of the kind has ever been written. Mozart himself recognised the fact, telling his wife, after writing down the Recorders, that if he were to die before finishing the Requiem it was of the greatest importance that THE REQUIEM. this movement should have been completed. 51 The chief part of the movement, after its introduction by the ritornello, is formed by a motif given by two voices in imitation at the beginning, the middle, and again towards the close, the fervent expression of which is tinged with severity by means of suspensions of the second. It is supported by a figured bass, the first bar of which—[See Page Image]