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 ]
CHAPTER XLIV. ILLNESS AND DEATH.
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:—
