Idomeneo
At the Archbishop’s table he sat between the castrato Ceccarelli and the violinist Brunetti. If he felt revolted by his present circumstances he seems, however, to have taken refuge in the inner sanctuary of his spirit. He created quantities of priceless works and, in so doing, could forget situations in themselves repugnant. There were church compositions, serenades, divertimenti; the gorgeous Symphonie Concertante for violin and viola (K. 364); a triple concerto for violin, viola, and cello; the adorable E flat concerto for two pianos (K. 365); three symphonies in G, B flat, and C; some music for Gebler’s drama, Thamos, König in Aegypten, which he had begun five years earlier and was a foretaste of The Magic Flute; and lastly, an operatic fragment, entitled Zaide after Mozart’s death and destined to remain a torso.
By 1780, however, Wolfgang was to some degree compensated for his disillusionments. While laboring on Zaide he was commissioned by the Bavarian Elector, Carl Theodor, to write an opera seria for the Munich Carnival of 1781. The Munich authorities picked a libretto Idomeneo, re di Creta; ossia Ilia ed Idamante, which was based on a book by Antoine Danchet and which, as composed by André Campra as far back as 1712, had enjoyed a day of fame in Paris. It dealt with the tale of the Cretan king who had made a rash Jephtha vow to Neptune on returning from the Trojan war and was saved from sacrificing his son only by a deus ex machina. The libretto was put in shape by the Salzburg cleric, Giambattista Varesco, and called for, in accordance with French models, massive crowd scenes, ballets, choruses, and all the effects of a large-scale spectacle as well as vocal virtuosity and elaborate instrumental tone painting.
For a change Mozart had things more or less his own way. The Weber family had moved to Vienna, much to Leopold’s relief, and for the moment the composer had no time to worry about Aloysia but went ahead putting his new opera into shape and helping to prepare the production. On the whole he met with sympathetic cooperation. The Elector, Carl Theodor, welcomed him cordially. The Intendant, Count Seeau, was helpful, and the women singers declared themselves pleased with their arias. The chief difficulties were caused by the aging tenor, Raaff, who had the title role, and the sixteen-year-old artificial soprano cast for the part of Idamantes. Mozart, who used to call him “mio molto amato castrato Del Prato,” deplored the poor boy’s lack of stage experience, musicianship, and vocal method. Nevertheless, Idomeneo, when brought out late in January 1781, was warmly acclaimed, and the Elector, who had followed the rehearsals from the first, marveled that “so small a head should contain such great things,” insisting he had never been so stirred by any music.
He had reason for his enthusiasm. The score of Idomeneo is one of its composer’s most superb achievements and, if it lives on today chiefly as a museum piece, it does so because, like Mitridate, Lucio Silla, and Il Re pastore before it and La Clemenza di Tito after it, the work is a specimen of opera seria—a form that had lost every trace of vitality and dramatic punch. Yet to the end of his days its creator valued it highly and made some unavailing efforts to reanimate it.