CHAPTER XXXII. MOZART AS AN ARTIST.
OF those who realise the excitement and want of repose of Mozart's life in Vienna, and the variety of occupations and distractions which beset him, it must appear matter of wonder that he was able to produce so large a number of compositions, each bearing an individual character of maturity and finish. The wonder increases as the conviction grows that not only was he ready as each occasion arose to prove, as Goethe says every artist should, that his art came at his command, but that he had the power of bringing forth at will his deepest, best conceptions, so that the external impulse appeared only as the momentum given to an artistic inspiration. It must at the same time be remembered that Mozart was not fond of writing, and generally waited until the last moment to give shape to his ideas. He was occasionally, therefore, late with his compositions, as with the sonata for Strinasacchi (Vol. II., p. 337), or had only time to write the parts without scoring them (Vol. II., pp.318, 366), or scarcely allowed the copyist time to finish his work (Vol. II., p. 327); it is only necessary to look through his Thematic Catalogue to see that most of his compositions were written as short a time as possible before they were actually wanted. His DISTASTE TO WRITING. father, who, as a man of business, considered the proper disposition of time as a matter of vital importance, often called his son's attention to this failing. "If you will examine your conscience closely," he writes (December 11, 1777), "you will find that procrastination is your besetting sin and when Wolfgang was at work on "Idomeneo" in Munich, he warned him "not to procrastinate" (November 18, 1781). After his stay in Vienna, convinced that his son was in this respect unchanged for the better, he writes to Marianne, on hearing from Wolfgang that he was over head and ears at work on the "Nozze di Figaro" (November 11, 1785), "He has procrastinated and thrown away his time after his usual habit, until now he is forced to set to work in earnest, in compliance with Count Rosenberg's commands."
It cannot be denied that Leopold Mozart was right, and that a judicious and methodical distribution of time is as desirable in an artist or a genius as in any one else; it is true also that perseverance and care may enable even an artist to overcome his inclination to procrastination.
But a glance at the extraordinary fertility of Mozart's genius, at the burning zeal and intensity with which he worked, will suffice to show the injustice of accusing him of idleness, or of never working unless he was actually driven to it. He was perfectly justified in writing to his father from Vienna (May 26, 1781): "Believe me, I do not love idleness, but rather work." The father's injustice was the result of a want of comprehension of the peculiar creative process of his son's genius. He did not appreciate the activity and industry of his mind, because it made no show, and, indeed, often hid itself behind a careless demeanour; he failed to perceive that the disinclination to write generally arose from the feeling that the workings of the mind were not yet in a shape to be expressed by the pen.
A conception of Mozart's work, almost equally mistaken, is that which takes as a measure of his genius his wonderfully rapid production, which often made his grasp of an artistic idea coincident with his embodiment of it in music. The overture to "Don Giovanni" is most often quoted as an example of this extraordinary speed. Niemetschek says (p. 84):—
Mozart wrote "Don Juan" at Prague in 1787; it was finished, rehearsed, and announced for performance in two days' time, before the overture was begun to be written. The anxiety of his friends, increasing every hour, appeared to entertain him; the more apprehensive they became, the less he would consent to hurry himself. It was not until the night before the performance, after spending the merriest evening imaginable, that he went to his room at near midnight, began to write, and completed the admirable masterpiece in a few hours.
This very credible account is corroborated by Mozart's wife:[ 1 ]—
The evening before the performance of "Don Juan" at Prague, the dress rehearsal having already taken place, he said to his wife that he would write the overture at night, if she would sit with him and make him some punch to keep his spirits up. This she did, and told him tales about Aladdin's Lamp, Cinderella, &c., which made him laugh till the tears came. But the punch made him sleepy, so that he dozed when she left off, and only worked as long as she told tales. At last, the excitement, the sleepiness, and the frequent efforts not to doze off, were too much for him, and his wife persuaded him to go to sleep on the sofa, promising to wake him in an hour. But he slept so soundly that she could not find it in her heart to wake him until two hours had passed. It was then five o'clock; at seven o'clock the overture was finished and in the hands of the copyist.
This musical myth has received a stronger colouring in the account of the elder Genast, then a young actor at Prague. According to him, Mozart partook so freely of the hospitalities of a certain gentleman on the evening in question that Genast and a friend brought him home, laid him senseless on his bed, and themselves went to sleep on the sofa. On awakening, they heard Mozart lustily singing, as he composed his overture, and "listened in reverential silence as the immortal ideas developed themselves."[ 2 ] A good instance, this, of the way to manufacture an anecdote.