In 1787 appeared, first at Prague, the chef-d’œuvre of Mozart, his Don Giovanni, which was received with enthusiasm by the Bohemians, but at that time, and indeed years after, was above the comprehension of the Viennese public, whose taste, unlike that which prevails in the north of Germany, still inclines them to prefer the nerveless, meagre compositions of Italy. “This matchless work of its immortalised author,” never found its way to our Anglo-Italian stage till the year 1817, when it was performed in a manner that surpassed all former representations, and has never since been equalled. The production of Don Giovanni in London,—which put ten thousand pounds into the manager’s pocket, and forms an era in our musical history—was so strenuously opposed by an Italian cabal, that but for the courage and perseverance of the director of that season, it would have been put aside, even after all the expense of getting up and trouble of rehearsing had been incurred. The charming comic opera, Cosi fan tutti, was composed in 1790; Die Zauberflöte and La Clemenza di Tito, in 1791; the latter for the coronation of Leopold II.
The last and, taken as a whole, the most sublime work of Mozart, his Requiem, was written on his death-bed; and having been left in rather an unfinished state, his pupil, Süssmayer, filled up some of the accompaniments. This circumstance led, a few years ago, to a dispute concerning its authorship, some indiscreet friends of the latter having claimed as his composition the best parts of the mass. The assertions by which the claim was supported, and the arguments in its favour, proved unavailing against the internal evidence which the work afforded, and it is to be presumed that the controversy will never be renewed. A story, too, that an anonymous, mysterious stranger commissioned Mozart to compose the Requiem, raised many idle conjectures, some of them of the most grossly superstitious kind. The matter, however, has latterly been very satisfactorily explained[[2]].
[2]. See Harmonicon, vol. iv., page 102.
This illustrious composer, on whom nature bestowed so much vigour of imagination, so little physical strength, never seemed destined to attain longevity. Slightly constructed, and feeble in constitution, he required more mental repose than his necessities would allow. His mind did not yield, but his body gave way, and on the 5th of December, 1792, prematurely worn out, he expired thoroughly exhausted, without any appearance of organic disease.
It has been said of Mozart, that his knowledge was bounded by his art, and that detached from this he was little better than a nonentity. That his thoughts were almost wholly bent on music was not a matter of choice, but of necessity. Had not his miserably-remunerated labours occupied nearly all his time, his means would have been still more limited than they were. But we have reason to think (as we have elsewhere stated) that his acquirements were far greater than in England is generally believed; in proof of which we have the best authority for saying, that once, at a court masquerade given at Vienna, Mozart appeared as a physician, and wrote prescriptions in Latin, French, Italian, and German; in which not only an acquaintance with the several languages was shown, but great discernment of character, and considerable wit. Assuming this to be true, he could not have been a very ignorant man, nor always a dull one, out of his profession. But still stronger evidence in favour of his understanding may be extracted from his works. That he who, in his operas, adapted his music with such felicity to the different persons of the drama—who evinced such nicety of discrimination—who represented the passions so accurately—who coloured so faithfully—whose music is so expressive, that without the aid of words it is almost sufficient to render the scene intelligible,—that such a man should not have been endowed with a high order of intellect is hard to be believed, but that his understanding should have been below mediocrity is incredible.
Had Mozart lived, this country, which witnessed his early proofs of genius, would have enjoyed it in its matured and most luxuriant state. When Salomon, the celebrated violin player—an enterprising, liberal, sensible man—was about establishing his subscription-concerts in London, he went to Vienna to engage either Haydn or Mozart to compose symphonies for him, and after several “most amicable and pleasant meetings” (Salomon’s own words) between the parties, it was agreed that Haydn should first proceed to the rich capital of the British dominions, and that the following season he should be succeeded by Mozart. The illness and death of the latter rendered unavailing an arrangement which would at least have compensated his labours more adequately than they had ever before been rewarded. The father of modern orchestral music may be said to have made his fortune—a small one, it is true, but an independence—by his visits to London; and the creator of an entirely new, an infinitely superior, style of dramatic music would hardly have been less successful.
The compositions of Mozart are of every kind, and so numerous, that we cannot pretend to give even a bare list of them. But it may be observed, generally, that from the sonata to the symphony, from the simplest romance to the most elaborate musical drama, he—whose career was stopped before he had completed his thirty-sixth year—composed in every imaginable style, and excelled in all. In each class he furnished models of the greatest attainable excellence: “exquisite melodies, profound harmonies, the playful, the tender, the pathetic, and the sublime,” are to be found among his works. It is the exclusive privilege of first rate merit to be more admired as it is better known; and while inferior composers enjoy their day of fashion, and are forgotten, Mozart’s fame will continue to expand in proportion as mankind advances in taste and knowledge.
Engraved by W. Holl.
LOYOLA.
From a Print by Bolswert, after a Picture by Rubens.
Under the Superintendence of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.
London, Published by Charles Knight & Co. Ludgate Street.