LIFE OF MOZART

MOZART and his mother left Mannheim on March 14, and arrived in Paris on the 23rd, after a journey of nine days and a-half. "We thought we should never get through it," writes Wolfgang (March 24, 1778), [ 1 ] "and I never in my life was so tired. You can imagine what it was to leave Mannheim and all our dear, good friends there, and to be obliged to exist for ten days without a single soul even to speak to. God be praised, however, we are now at our journey's end. I am in hopes that, with His help, all will go well. To-day we mean to take a fiacre and go to call on Grimm and Wendling. Early to-morrow I shall go to the Electoral Minister Herr von Sickingen, who is a great connoisseur and lover of music, and to whom I have letters of introduction from Herr von Gemmingen and Herr Cannabich." L. Mozart was full of hope concerning this visit to Paris, and believed that Wolfgang could not fail to gain fame and, as a consequence, money in the French capital. He remembered the brilliant reception which had been given to him and his children fourteen years before, and he was convinced that a like support would be accorded to the youth who had fulfilled his early promise to a degree that to an intelligent observer must appear even more wonderful than his precocious performances as a child. He counted upon the support and assistance of many distinguished and influential persons, whose favour they had already experienced, and more especially on the tried friendship of Grimm, who had formerly given them the benefit of all his knowledge and power, and with whom they had continued in connection ever since. Grimm had lately passed through Salzburg with two FRENCH OPERA. friends, and was pleased to hear his "Amadeo," as he called Wolfgang. He chanced to arrive at Augsburg on the evening of Wolfgang's concert there, and was present at it without making himself known, since he was in haste, and had heard that Wolfgang was on his way to Paris. L. Mozart, who placed great confidence in Grimm's friendship and experience, had made no secret to him of his precarious position in Salzburg, and of how greatly Wolfgang was in need of support; he commended his son entirely to Grimm's favour (April 6, 1778):—

I recommend you most emphatically to endeavour by childlike confidence to merit, or rather to preserve, the favour, love, and friendship of the Baron von Grimm; to take counsel with him on every point, and to do nothing hastily or from impulse; in all things be careful of your own interests, which are those of us all. Life in Paris is very different from life in Germany, and the French ways of expressing oneself politely, of introducing oneself, of craving patronage, &c., are quite peculiar; so much so, that Baron von Grimm used always to instruct me as to what I should say, and how I should express myself. Be sure you tell him, with my best compliments, that I have reminded you of this, and he will tell you that I am right.

But, clever as he was, L. Mozart had miscalculated on several points. He did not reflect that Grimm had grown older, more indolent, and more stately, and that even formerly a tact and obsequiousness had been required in order to turn the great man's friendship to account, which, natural as they were to himself, his son never did and never would acquire. He had not sufficiently realised that the attention of the public is far more easily attracted by what is strange and wonderful, than by the greatest intellectual and artistic endowments. This was peculiarly the case in Paris, where interest in musical performances only mounted to enthusiasm when some unusual circumstance accompanied them. True, such enthusiasm was at its height at the time of Mozart's visit, but his father could not see that this very fact was against a young man who had so little of the art of ingratiating himself with others. To us it must ever appear as an extraordinary coincidence that Mozart, fresh from Mannheim, and the efforts there being made for the establishment of a national German opera, should have come to Paris at LULLY, 1652-1687. the very height of the struggle between Italian opera and the French opera, as reformed by Gluck, a struggle which appeared to be on the point of being fought out. In neither case did his strong feelings on the subject tempt him to take an active part; he maintained the attitude of a neutral observer, in preparation for the tasks to which he might be appointed.

If we are clearly to apprehend the musical situation, we must remind ourselves in order of the circumstances which had brought it about.

Jean Baptiste de Lully (1633-1687), a native of Florence, had gained such distinction by his violin-playing and ballet music, that in 1652 he was appointed kapellmeister by Louis XIV., and in 1672 he received full power to establish and direct the Académie Royale de Musique. Not only was he the founder of this still existing institution,* but he established by its means the grand opera in France. Faithful to the traditions of his birthplace, Florence, he kept in view the first attempts which had been made in Italy to revive ancient tragedy in opera (Vol. I., p. 154 et seq.). As in Italy, so in Paris, operatic performances were originally designed for court festivals; Lully's privilege consisted in his being allowed to give public representations of operas, "even of those which had been produced at court" ("même celles qui auront été représentés devant Nous "). They were preceded by ballets, in which the connection of the action was indicated by vocal scenes; but the singing was quite subordinate to the long succession of dances, in which the distinguished part of the audience, and even the king himself, took part. Dances, therefore, became an essential ingredient of the opera, and it was the task of the poet and the composers to give them appropriate connection with the plot; to this day, as is well known, the ballet is the special prerogative of the Grand-Opéra at Paris. It was not less important to maintain the reputation of the most brilliant court in the FRENCH OPERA. world by means of variety and magnificence of scenery, costumes, machinery, &c.; in this respect, also, the Grand-Opéra has kept true to its traditions.[ 2 ]

But whilst in Italy the musical, and especially the vocal, element of the opera had always the upper hand, in Paris the dramatic element held its ground with good success. It was the easier for Lully to found a national opera in Paris, since he found a poet ready to hand in Quinault, who had the genius to clothe his mythological subjects in the dramatic and poetical dress of his own day. To us, indeed, his productions seem far apart from the spirit of ancient tragedy, and more rhetorical and epigrammatic than poetical in their conception. But his operas (or rather tragedies) expressed truly the spirit of the age, and they became more distinctively national in proportion as the reign of Louis XIV. came to be considered as the golden age of France. It was Lully's task to give musical expression to the national spirit, and in this he succeeded to the admiration of his contemporaries and of posterity. His music is closely connected' with those first attempts in Italy. We find none of the set forms of the later opera seria, no regular arie, no duets, no ensembles. The words are for the most part simply rendered in recitative. There is sometimes a figured bass accompaniment; but even then it is not the free movement of Italian recitative, but is much more precisely apportioned, and the harmonies of the accompaniment change more frequently. When the sentiment becomes rather more elevated, a sort of compromise is effected between recitative and song. The words are rendered with a declamatory spoken accent; and not only are they strictly in time, but the harmonies are so arranged that a full orchestral chord is given to every note of the song. The melodies are therefore limited in every respect; the phrases are generally too small in compass to be well carried out, and hang loosely together without any proper design; it was difficult to develop an elaborate musical form out of such elements as these. Independent songs occur seldom, and then only in the most precise of forms, tending generally to dance melodies (airs). When several voices unite they alternate with each other; or if they LULLY'S OPERAS. sing together note follows note, with only exceptionally real ensemble passages. The choruses are formed by a simple harmony in several parts, the soprano not being always appointed to give the melody. The orchestra, except in the dance music, has seldom any independent significance, but simply gives the full harmony to every note of the bass. Instrumental effect is seldom aimed at, and the different instruments are only occasionally employed singly. Lully's merit chiefly consists in his having accentuated his music in a manner which suited the French language, and also in his having succeeded in throwing a certain amount of characteristic pathos into some of his passages. It is comprehensible that at first, musical cultivation being in its infancy, this quality should be most readily felt and acknowledged; but in every art, and especially in music, it is the fate of individual characteristics to become the soonest incomprehensible, and, therefore, unpleasing. For this reason, the reaction against Lully's music attacked just this mode of treating the text. It was considered monotonous, tiresome, and heavy; and the isolated significant phrases having lost their power to please, were compared with the plain-song (plain-chant) of church psalmody.[ 3 ]

The delivery of the vocalists, male and female, is described as dreadful; monotonous droning alternating with violent shrieks and exaggerated accent (urlo francese).[ 4 ]

Notwithstanding all this, Lully's operas held undisputed possession of the stage during his life,[ 5 ] and even after his death, a sure proof that his success was not merely the result of the favour personally accorded to him. The composers whose operas found favour after his (such as Campra, Colasse, Desmarets, Blamont, and Mouret) are of less FRENCH OPERA. importance historically, because they all copied his manner. Any part of their works which pointed to the influence of the opera seria, as it was being formed in the Neapolitan school, was rejected by the national vanity.[ 6 ]

Jean Phil. Rameau (1683-1764) came to Paris from the provinces as an established musician in 1721. He succeeded by his force of character, and the powerful protection of the Farmer-General, La Popelinière, in placing his operas on a level with those of Lully in the public estimation. When he produced his "Hippolyte et Aricie" in 1732, he was met by the most determined opposition on the part of Lully's supporters; but the very decided success of his acknowledged masterpiece, "Castor et Pollux," in 1737,[ 7 ] placed him, if not above Lully, certainly on an equality with him during the remainder of his career. His opponents became gradually reconciled to his supremacy, and acknowledged that French music had not been essentially altered by Rameau, only developed and perfected.[ 8 ] And there can be no question that this was the case. Before Rameau had produced any operas he had made his reputation as an organist and instrumental composer, and more especially as the founder of a theory of harmony. On this latter point his operas also show considerable progress—the harmonic treatment is rich and varied, though sometimes the straining after novelty and effect RAMEAU, 1732-1764. leads to affectation and over-elaboration. Rameau's accompaniments are free and independent; the orchestra is used with striking effect by means of variety of tone-colour-ing in the instruments as well as of independent subjects, which serve to accent the details. Rameau's employment of the orchestra shows a marked improvement, not only on Lully, but even on Italian opera as then existing. In the same way we find the choruses released from the fetters of strict thorough-bass, and the parts moving freely and expressively. In the lyrical portions of the opera, much is evidently due to the advance in the art of solo singing, both rhythm and melody move more freely, and embellishment is not wholly wanting. But Rameau has not avowedly adopted the Italian style, although he spent a short part of his youth in Italy. The accepted forms of Italian opera are entirely disregarded, both in the choruses and solos. The slow, uniform progress of Lully's operas becomes freer and more animated in Rameau's, the dramatic expression has more energy and life, and the music has more of individual colouring; but the foundation remains. The same is the case with the treatment of the dialogue. It is still severe, stately, recitative-like singing in varied measure, but Rameau's harmonic art is displayed in his incomparably greater power of expression. Rameau's opera, notwithstanding its independent invention and advance in artistic feeling, is the natural development of Lully's principles, not a revolution against them. It was debated at the time with much warmth whether Rameau's peculiarities were to be accepted as improvements, or to be looked upon as injudicious attempts at novelty. The points which then excited the liveliest interest now seem to us most trivial. But the main fact is not to be denied, that Rameau, by the efforts of his own genius, constructed a national French opera upon the foundations laid by Lully, and that the further development of the grand opera proceeded along, the lines laid down by him. Not only can the framework and design of these early operas be recognised in the grand opera of the present day, but French dramatic music, spite of many transformations, betrays its relationship with the early masters in many FRENCH OPERA. peculiarities of melody, rhythm and harmony; a sure proof that national feeling lies at the root of the traditions.

The well-wishers of the national French opera were right in settling their disputes about Lully and Rameau by the recognition of them both; for both alike were threatened by a formidable irruption of Italian taste, which now so completely governed the remainder of Europe that France could not fail to be in some measure affected by it. In August, 1752, a company of Italian singers came to Paris under the direction of a certain Bambini, and having received permission to represent comic operas (intermezzi) in the hall of the Grand Opéra, were called "Les Bouffons."[ 9 ] Their first representation of Pergolese's "Serva Padrona" was a failure, but subsequently it was applauded with enthusiasm. The chief singers of the company, Manelli and Anna Tonelli, were highly esteemed both for their singing and acting, although they did not reach to the highest level of Italian opera; the others were indifferent.[ 10 ] But they were Italian throats, Italian ways of singing and acting which lent all their powers to the interpretation of opera buffa, with its polished, pleasing form, simply and easily grasped harmonies, and sustained melodies. They found in Paris an appreciative audience, and very soon even the Parisian orchestra, where the conductor beat time audibly,[ 11 ] while the Italian conductor only directed from the clavier, was described, in comparison to the Italian, as a company of uneducated musicians whose great aim was to make as much noise as possible. The supporters of the national school of music naturally took up arms against the LES BOUFFONS, 1752. Italian enthusiasts, and so arose the well-known struggle between the "coin du roi" (nationalists) and the "coin de la reine" (Italians).[ 12 ]

Grimm, who always manifested great interest in musical matters, had become acquainted with Italian opera in Germany, and afterwards in Paris, where he took up his abode in 1749; his intercourse with Rousseau and other sympathetic friends increased his partiality for it. His burlesque of "Le Petit Prophète de Boehmischbroda" (1753), which foretold in the biblical prophetic style the downfall of good taste if Paris were not converted to Italian music,[ 13 ] proved a powerful ally to Italian music; he was joined by Diderot, who, like all the encyclopedists, was personally antagonistic to Rameau on account of his attack on the "Encyclopédie."[ 14 ] Jean Jacques Rousseau, who in his "Devin du Village" had shown the delighted public how far the treasures of the Italian opera could be turned to good account in the French (Vol. I., p. 87 et seq.), threw all the weight of his influence into the scale of the Bouffonists; not content with mercilessly exposing the shortcomings of the French opera, he undertook to prove that the French language was unfitted for composition, and French music altogether an impossibility.[ 15 ] The enraged musicians threatened to punish this daring outrage on the nation[ 16 ] with horsewhipping, assassination, or even the Bastille; but a flood of angry discussion was all that actually resulted.[ 17 ] Those, however, whose interests were FRENCH OPERA. attacked, especially the proprietors and singers of the opera-house, took such measures as obliged the Italian singers to quit Paris in March, 1754.[ 18 ]

It may well be wondered at that men like Rousseau[ 19 ] and Diderot,[ 20 ] who upheld simplicity and nature as the true canons of art, should have evinced a preference for Italian music. For though doubtless the Italian style was grounded originally on the nature of music, it had already become conventional, and far removed from what the philosophers called natural. At the same time it must be remembered that their partiality always turned in the direction of opera buffa, which sought from its commencement to free itself from the conventional restraint of opera seria (Vol. I., p. 203). Then, too, the musical element, as distinguished from the poetical or dramatic, had always been the foundation of Italian opera, and an opposition directed against the French opera, with its poetical and dramatic proclivities, would be sure to uphold the purely musical development of the Italians, even though the exaggerations into which it was carried might be displeasing to the philosophers.

The influence of the Bouffons survived their departure. The Comédie Italienne (aux Italiens) produced Italian comedies in masquerade, French comedies, and parodies of qperas, the charm of which consisted mainly in their vocal parts, on which account they were called opéras comiques.[ 21 ] A dangerous rival to the Comédie Italienne was the Théätre de la Foire, whose representations took place originally on OPÉRA COMIQUE—DUNI, 1757-1775. the Feasts of St. Germain, St. Laurent, and St. Ovide. The two companies were always inimical, and the "Comédiens de la Foire" were from time to time suppressed by their stronger rival,[ 22 ] but always revived, until at last in 1762 the two companies were amalgamated.[ 23 ] In this soil was planted opera buffa, and, favoured by circumstances, it grew into a great national institution.[ 24 ] Translations and adaptations of favourite Italian operas satisfied the public at first, and were decried by the Bouffonists as travesties of the original.[ 25 ] But very soon, especially after the brilliant success of Vade's "Les Troqueurs" in 1753, a new school of composers sought to reconcile the excellencies of the Italian music, especially in singing, with the exigencies of the national taste. It was difficult at first to break loose from the defined outline and simple design of the intermezzi, but gradually the French taste became apparent in the greater connection and interest of the plot, and the delicacy and wit of the composition. The lively interest of the public induced poets of talent, such as Favart, Sedaine, and Marmontel, to devote themselves to operatic writing, and the French comic opera soon surpassed the opera buffa, from a dramatic as well as a musical point of view. These various impulses were all the more lasting since they were founded on the national character.[ 26 ]

Egidio Romoaldo Duni (1709-1775), born and educated in Naples, having made his reputation on the Italian stage, was led by his connection with the court at Parma, which was French in manners and in taste, to compose French operettas, as, for instance, "Ninette ä la Cour." The applause with which they were received induced him to go to Paris in 1757, where he made an exceptionally favourable début with the "Peintre Amoureux," and during the next FRENCH OPERA. thirteen years produced a succession of comic operas, the easy style and simple form of which secured them both the favour of the public and the imitation of untrained French composers.[ 27 ]

Duni was followed by Pierre Alex. Monsigny (1729-1817),[ 28 ] a dilettante, who was so excited by the performances of the Bouffons that he applied himself to the study of music, and at once began to compose operas. In 1759 he put his first opera, "Les Aveux Indiscrets," on the stage, and this was rapidly succeeded by others. Sedaine was so interested in Monsigny that he intrusted all his operatic librettos to him.[ 29 ] A wider sphere was opened to him with the three-act opera, "Le Roi et le Fermier," which was the commencement of the most brilliant success. It must be allowed that the co-operation of a poet to whom even Grimm allows all the qualities of a good librettist[ 30 ] was an important element in this success; but Monsigny's work was quite on a level with that of his collaborateur. His music expresses with instinctive truth the most amiable side of the French character. Monsigny not only had at his command a wealth of pleasing sympathetic melodies, but possessed as decided a talent for pathos as for light comedy, and a sure perception of dramatic effect, combined with life, delicacy, and grace. His natural feeling for beauty of form concealed the want of thorough artistic training,[ 31 ] and his operas were universally admired, some of them, such as "Le Déserteur,"[ 32 ] acquiring more extended fame.

PHILIDOR, 1759-1795—GRÉTRY, 1768-1813.

A better theoretical musician was Franç. André (Danican) Philidor (1727-1795), who enjoyed the reputation of extraordinary genius as a chess-player before appearing as a composer with his first opera, "Blaise le Savetier," in 1759.[ 33 ] His fame as a musician was soon established, and he ruled the comic stage with Duni and Monsigny until Grétry took possession of it. He was reproached with justice for too great a display of musical scholarship, and for making his accompaniments too prominent.[ 34 ] He had more force and energy than Monsigny, with greater power of passionate expression, but his fun is coarser, and he is inferior in grace and tenderness. He finally abandoned music, partly from disinclination to enter into rivalry with Grétry, and partly from his passion for chess.

It was characteristic that comic opera, the outcome of vaudeville and chanson, should have been nursed in its infancy by composers like Duni, who had no pretensions to great genius, Monsigny, who was half a dilettante, and Philidor, who only composed music as a pastime. André Ern. Grétry, on the contrary (1741-1813), threw himself into the pursuit with all his powers, and with zealous ardour. He it was who perfected the comic opera, making it, what it still remains, the representative of the French national character in the province of dramatic music. As a boy, he had delighted in the performances of Italian opera singers in his native town of Liège, and as a youth he had been in Rome during the most brilliant part of Piccinni's career, had studied there for several years, and at last produced an intermezzo, "Le Vin-demiatrici," which was well received, and gained even Pic-cinni's approval. In Paris, although Monsigny and Philidor received him kindly, he had to contend with difficulties; but FRENCH OPERA. after the complete success of his opera "Le Huron," in 1768,[ 35 ] even his remarkable fertility in production could hardly satisfy the demands of the public for his works. Marmontel, Sedaine, and other poets offered him libretti which were in themselves pledges of success. The idea that dramatic poetry should represent human nature in its naked reality, which had emanated from the encyclopedists, found its realisation in the drama of common life, and had considerable influence on the development of the comic opera.

The strict line of demarcation between opera seria and buffa did not exist in Paris. The effort to give more dramatic interest and freer scope to operatic music led to the portrayal of the deeper and noble emotions, and opera approached more and more nearly to serious comedy in plot, situations, and psychological intention. Merriment gradually ceased to be the predominating element, and became nothing more than a flavouring thrown in; it was replaced by that mixture of seriousness and playfulness which, in opposition to the former prohibition of any amalgamation of different styles, was now considered as the true expression of music.[ 36 ] A characteristic distinction between comic and serious opera in France was the adoption by the former of spoken dialogue instead of recitative.[ 37 ] Any attempt to imitate the free, declamatory recitative of the Italians would have been thought too daring, and was perhaps actually prohibited by the privileges of the Grand-Opéra. But in renouncing recitative, the dialogue gained the freedom of witty and sparkling conversation, without which the French cannot exist; and this note, once struck, soon regulated the whole character of GRÊTRY. operatic music, which, elevated as it may be, nevertheless starts from the idea of a conversation.

No one could be better fitted than Grétry for the development of such a style as this.[ 38 ] His was a pliant and amiable nature, but not a great one. He was excitable and susceptible to any emotion, but without depth; his wit was delicate and versatile, and he possessed the power of giving it the most striking and appropriate expression. He was determined that his music should always faithfully render some definite emotion, even to the minutest detail of the dramatic situation and characters. He held that a composer could only attain this end by working himself up into a pitch of intense excitement,[ 39 ] and living for the time in the drama that was under his hands.[ 40 ] The actual means which he employed was song, that is, melody. He learnt the art of tuneful song from the Italians,[ 41 ] and made its expressiveness depend upon intonation in delivery, which it is the composer's part to suggest and control.[ 42 ] He laid great stress upon true and strongly accentuated declamation,[ 43 ] which he had studied under good actors.[ 44 ] This lent a liveliness and piquancy to his musical style,[ 45 ] and rendered it essentially French.[ 46 ]

FRENCH OPERA.

Grétry accomplished wonders for musical form, as far as grace and freshness, lively emotion and wit go, but his powers did not attain to anything truly great or important to art. The art of melodious expression was developed by him almost to the exclusion of other means, such as rich and well-chosen härmonies,[ 47 ] artistic accompaniments, and instrumental effects, all of which he treated as subordinate and unimportant.

He inveighs against the misuse of the instruments, especially of the wind instruments, which Gluck's example had introduced, even if he were not personally responsible for it;[ 48 ] but he recommends the moderate use of them for characterisation,[ 49 ] and prides himself on his very questionable invention in his "Andromaque" of assigning special instruments to the recitatives of each principal character—Andromache, for instance, having always three flutes.[ 50 ] A saying of Grétry's, that in opera song is the statue, and the orchestra the pedestal, and that Mozart sometimes put the pedestal on the stage, has often been repeated. Whether this is authentic or not, the fact remains that Grétry's neglect of the orchestra was not altogether of set purpose, but that this branch of artistic education was unknown to him and interested him as little as did the minute elaboration and hard study which are dear to all first-rate musicians. His idea that a musician of genius may spoil his inventive powers by too much study is truly comical; what he tells of his own studies shows how shallow they were, and his productions are all of a piece. On the other hand he lays great weight upon reflection, which does not properly concern music at all; but his simplicity, which almost amounted to barrenness, served to heighten his truly excellent qualities, and to make him the popular idol he was. It is quite conceivable that the encyclopedists, who were the champions of Italian music, should have seen in him the man who united beauty and melody with Italian truth and characteristic expression. Diderot wrote under GLUCK. Grétry's portrait the motto: "Irritat, mulcet, falsis terroribus implet, ut magus";[ 51 ] Rousseau thanked him for having reopened his heart to emotion by his music;[ 52 ] Grimm, who had received him with approbation from the first,[ 53 ] declared during the heat of the struggle between Gluckists and Piccinnists that connoisseurs and others were all agreed that no composer had succeeded like Grétry in fitting Italian melody to the French language, and in satisfying the national taste for wit and delicacy.[ 54 ] Suard and Arnaud, Gluck's supporters, stood by Grétry,[ 55 ] as well as Marmontel, who was opposed to Gluck.[ 56 ] And with what enthusiasm the public received his operas! Many of them—to mention only "Zemire and Azor"—made their way throughout Europe, and had unquestionably much influence on the formation of musical taste.

While comic opera was thus flourishing more and more richly and abundantly, the grand opera was confined almost exclusively to Lully and Rameau; it might almost seem that it had reached its limits, and that the interest of the public was henceforth to be centred on comic opera.[ 57 ] But fresh trials awaited the grand opera. Doubtless the light breezes which sprang from the reformed comic opera were precursors of the coming storm; but the actual impulse to it was not given in Paris itself.

FRENCH OPERA.

Christ. Wilh. Gluck (1714-1787), after doing good service to Italian opera in Italy and London, went to Vienna in 1748, and there wrote, partly for the Prince of Hildburg-hausen, partly and chiefly for the imperial court, a succession of Italian operas of no very striking originality. It was precisely the time when the traditional forms were becoming more and more conventional formulas, and when the vocal art was demanding the sacrifice of simplicity, nature, and truth to the whim of each virtuoso. The decadence of operatic music, which Metastasio bitterly laments (Vol. I., p. 163), inspired Gluck with the desire to lead it back to its first principles. He was a man of earnest thought and strong will. The tendency of German literature to give dignity and importance to poetry did not pass by him unnoticed, and he was a warm admirer of Klopstock, whose odes he set to music.[ 58 ] The efforts then being made to raise the German stage in Vienna had an influence on him, and his own first attempts at reformation were greeted with loud applause by Sonnenfels.

Gluck has professed his principles of dramatic composition in the well-known dedication to his "Alceste." He declares his opposition to the abuses introduced by the vanity of singers and the servility of composers, by which the most beautiful and stately drama becomes the most tiresome; he refused to interrupt the action at a wrong time by a ritornello, to sacrifice expression to a run or a cadenza, to neglect the second part of a song when the situation demands that peculiar stress shall be laid on it, in obedience to the custom which requires the fourfold repetition of the words of the first part, or to give an ending to the song against the sense of the text; his overtures were to be characteristic of the drama which was to follow, and to prepare the minds of the spectators for it. His fundamental law of operatic music was its due subordination to the words, so that every turn in the action should be suitably expressed, without any superfluous adornment, just as colour gives life and expression to a CALSABIGI'S LIBRETTI. sketch. He professed his highest aim to be simple beauty;[ 59 ] he condemned all difficulties which hinder clearness, all novelties which do not proceed from the necessities of the situation; he set aside all rule in order to obtain true effects.

There can hardly be a doubt as to the justice of these principles in general, and we are only concerned with the result of their adoption on musical progress.[ 60 ] Our remarks on a style of music which professes itself the handmaid of poetry, and is content with giving the fittest expression to verse, must be prefaced by some notice of the poets who supplied the verse.

Ranieri de' Calsabigi came to Vienna in 1761, after making himself known by an edition of Metastasio's works, with an aesthetic introduction proving their perfection as tragedies and operas; he had also written several libretti for operas and cantatas. He had formed an idea that music fitted for dramatic poetry must approach as nearly as possible to natural, energetic declamation; for since declamation was only unperfected music, dramatic song could only be elaborated declamation enriched by the harmonies of the accompaniment. The poetry for such music must be intense, forcible, passionate, moving, and harmonious, and it could not fail of its result. Full of this idea he wrote "Orfeo," and submitted it to Count Durazzo; the latter wished it to be put on the stage, and recommended Gluck as the composer who could best carry out the intentions of the poet. Calsabigi declaimed his "Orfeo" repeatedly before Gluck, and noted his declamation in the text-book with signs which he illustrated by remarks.[ 61 ] Gluck, while giving full justice to the impulse FRENCH OPERA. which he had received from his poet,[ 62 ] could only partially yield to his whimsical exaggeration of declamatory music. But Calsabigi's ideas accorded with his own so far as to aid him in giving them clearness and precision.

Gluck's demands on the musical drama went farther and deeper than Calsabigi's comprehension and powers could reach.[ 63 ] But in the meantime he accepted what was offered to him, and so were produced "Orfeo ed Euridice" (1762), "Alceste" (1767), and "Paride ed Elena" (1769).

Not one of these works betrays any apprehension of true tragedy, any trace of the antique mind; when the poet seeks to escape from the rhetoric of Italian poetry, he draws not from the Greek but from the French tragedy. Nor do the operas possess any proper dramatic interest. Instead of having a well-connected, symmetrical plot, they consist of a succession of detached situations closely resembling each other, which are too often repeated, while in details they are too broad and rhetorical. Gluck's principle of making music the simple exponent of the poet's words was calculated to give them dignity and influence. Gluck possessed not only boldness and energy united with intellectual acuteness; he had, what is a rare quality at all times, a deep perception of true grandeur. But although Calsabigi strove to simplify his plots and to excite the deeper and more powerful emotions of his audience, of greatness there was no trace in his librettos. Gluck, perceiving the latent capabilities which the poet had failed to develop, brought them out, as it were, instinctively, and while he believed himself to be following the poet, he was in reality himself creating all that was great and new in the work. His fame will be immortal, and rests upon the stately breadth of his designs, upon the simple truth of his representations—in short, upon the greatness of his artistic genius. His weakness consisted in his one-sided tendency GLUCK'S OPERAS. to characterisation, a tendency in no way identical with those qualities which made his reputation.

Gluck does not abandon any of the accepted forms in his Italian operas; he rather, in many respects, revives older traditions. His strict treatment of the aria, the simplicity of his melodies, and the moderation of his adornments, together with his careful recitative, and especially his correct expression, were certainly variations on the then ruling taste, but not innovations on the earlier method. But in his desire to replace by accurate musical characterisation the ear-flattering artificial degeneration of operatic singing, he made use of stronger means than had hitherto been known. His harmonies in especial are not only more important and interesting in themselves, but they are used of set purpose for dramatic characterisation. In a similar manner the orchestra is made of higher use. The instruments are treated according to their individualities, not as combining to a purely musical effect, but as giving by their tone-colouring definite expression to a variety of moods; light and shade are carefully adjusted, and much lively execution is allotted to the orchestra. The effect is still further heightened by the frequent use of the chorus, which is intricately treated, and so becomes a powerful factor in the musical characterisation.

Gluck extended his care to the details of scenery, to marches and dances; everything was to be in accordance with and characteristic of the situation. Here he had been preceded by Jean George Noverre (1727-1810) who, in his "Lettres sur la Danse et sur les Ballets" in 1760, strove for a reformation in the ballet on the same principles which Gluck employed for the opera. He condemned stereotyped forms of set dances, and demanded a plot for the ballet; expression should be the task of the dancer, with nature for his model, and the ballet-master should be both poet and painter. The ballets which he produced upon these principles at Stuttgart until 1764, then at Vienna, and after 1776 at Paris, were finished productions of a very pure taste, and effected a complete revolution in the art of dancing.

Gluck laid great stress upon recitative. He almost entirely abandoned the customary plain recitative, and used FRENCH OPERA. accompanied recitative as most fitting for the dignified language of musical drama. Truth and power of expression are combined with a wealth of delicate and characteristic detail, and Gluck rarely falls into the error of destroying the impression of the whole by over-elaboration of detail; his nature was averse to all forms of triviality.

But here again the one-sided application of Gluck's principle becomes a weakness. As, according to his view, music is to be subservient to the words, he follows with his strongly marked recitative every turn of the dialogue, rhetorical and inflated as it might be, so that he not only employs all the resources of his art on an unworthy object, but fritters away the interest, on which he makes claims at once too extensive and too rapidly succeeding one another. Musical representation works immediately upon the mind and the emotions, and can do this so much more strongly and vividly than verse, which, however forcibly declaimed, appeals primarily to the intellect and the imagination, that a painful incongruity occurs when music, with all her resources of accurate characterisation, follows step by step the words of the poet. It is therefore an error to suppose that the music must always yield to the words; "as in a correct and well-composed picture," adds Gluck, "the animation of the colouring and of well-disposed light and shade vivifies the forms without distorting the outlines." But the true painter does not colour or illumine the naked outline; he considers the form in its total effect as a piece of colouring, and it exists for him only in this totality, which it is his object to represent. The distinction between form and colour is only technically important, and does not affect artistic perception and production. In the same way the musician has something more to do with respect to the words of his text than to colour given outlines. The conceptions which the poet has formed, with the consciousness that they could only attain complete independence by their combination with music, must be absorbed by the musician, and reproduced in the forms appointed by the nature of his art.

The exaggerations attending on all forms of opposition and attempted reformation will not suffice to explain this GLUCK'S MUSIC. important error.[ 64 ] In dealing with so great and powerful a mind as Gluck's we must go deeper, and seek for the cause in his artistic organisation alone. An ardent admirer of Gluck has pronounced[ 65 ] that he was "more intellectually than musically great"; and certainly his musical productions do not correspond to the energy of his feelings and his will. His organisation fitted him for a reformer; as a creative artist his weakness became apparent. Gluck's works are not exactly one-sided; he expressed every variety of passion with equal skill, and he is never wanting in grace and charm; but he cannot be said to be rich or spontaneous. The lofty sentiment which he expresses in firm and comprehensive melodies is natural to him, but his exact and confined mode of composition is in part the result of his limited power of invention. The final cause of his desire to deprive music of her rights as an independent art in favour of verse lies in this weakness of his musical organisation. Closely connected with this is another phenomenon. It has been justly remarked[ 66 ] that Gluck's powers of characterisation extend only to soliloquies, that he failed to give proper expression to the dialogue proper, the contrast of voices and characters which, either in opposition or agreement, demonstrate their different natures; the polyphonal power of music, in its intellectual sense, remained undeveloped by Gluck. Failing in this, he failed in the highest object of music, by virtue of which alone she can make any claim to dramatic force. The fact that Gluck did not feel himself impelled to express his dramatic situations after this fashion is a proof that his imagination was more easily stirred poetically than musically. The narrow limits within which he occasionally confines even the music whose expression is intended to be purely lyrical may be traced to the same source. For Gluck did not think it necessary that action on the musical stage should maintain the same uninterrupted FRENCH OPERA. flow as in real life. He thought it far more important to give a well-sustained musical representation of some one mood or disposition; and the more broadly such moods were indicated by the poet the better he was pleased. It is true that even then he keeps within the limits of the strictest form, but he is fond of employing frequent repetition, particularly when the chorus and a solo voice are set in opposition to each other. This way of rendering a dramatic idea is often of powerful effect; but, considered from an artistic point of view, it should be subordinated to the design of a grandly conceived composition expanding into a living organism.

It cannot be denied, therefore, that Gluck failed in the working out of his subjects, and that he sometimes betrays a certain amount of weakness as well in the structure of his compositions as in their details. It was not for want of industry or care; it was that he did not feel the necessity for mastering this important side of musical representation, and the fact affords fresh testimony of the singularity of his musical organisation.

Gluck's first opera, "Orfeo ed Euridice," adheres most closely to the usual Italian style, and was indeed successfully performed in Italy.[ 67 ] Of action in this opera there is hardly any; the introduction of Cupid at the beginning and the end gives it the cold allegorical character of the then customary festival entertainments. The broadly represented situations in which Orpheus mourns for Eurydice, and charms by his music the demons of the lower world, form the main portions of the opera; and they are expressed with striking fidelity and fervour of sentiment, as well as with great force and beauty. The use which is made of the chorus, and the cultivation of the orchestra, betoken great and important advances on the older style. The opera was well received by connoisseurs, both in Vienna and Paris,[ 68 ] but it does not appear to have been regarded as the inauguration of a reformation "ALCESTE," 1767. in music; indeed, during the next few years Gluck composed several Italian operas quite after the old fashion.

"Alceste," however, is an avowed attempt towards a reformation of dramatic music, and it manifests the settled purpose and the complete individuality of the master. The poet offers nothing but a succession of situations without any progressive action; the situations turn exclusively on the decision of Alceste, and are employed less as psychological developments of character than as opportunities for a rhetorical representation of certain frames of mind. The character of Hercules is omitted, and the task of deliverance is entrusted to Apollo as an apparition in the clouds; this destroys an effective contrast; and the two confidants retain a suspicious likeness to the parte seconde of Italian opera. But Gluck considered the separate scenes not only with regard to their fitness for musical treatment; he felt firm ground in which he might strike root. It testifies to his marvellous energy of mind that no weakness was discernible in the repetition of such closely allied situations, and that he had always new shades of expression and climacteric effects at his command. The connection with the forms of Italian opera is not by any means completely severed; an unprejudiced survey discovers numerous traces of this, and many of the main features of the composition are the results of the particular way in which Gluck made use of these forms.

The Vienna public received the opera with indifference, but the critics welcomed it eagerly as the inauguration of a new era. Unhappily the critics were not by any means competent judges; Sonnenfels and Riedel were not cultivated musical connoisseurs.[ 69 ] The opera scarcely reached a more extended circle; in Italy little notice was taken of it; Frederick the Great had several portions of it performed before him without finding any enjoyment in them;[ 70 ] North German FRENCH OPERA. critics, while doing full justice to the new work, raised objections to some of the essential points of Gluck's principles, as carried out in it.[ 71 ] Gluck remarks with some resentment, in his dedication to "Paride ed Elena," on the lukewarmness of the public, and the want of insight and justice on the part of the critics; he goes on to blame the cowardice and stupidity of musicians, none of whom had ventured to follow his lead, and proudly declares his intention of maintaining his principles, to the correctness of which this new opera was to testify on altogether new grounds. This was an unlucky announcement, for "Paride ed Elena" gave no proof of Gluck's exceptional powers. The subject, a sufficiently poor one, is deprived of every vestige of interest by the interposition of Cupid in disguise between the lovers—a fiction which turns the whole drama into an absurdity. The meagre story is spun out into five acts, while to the love scenes, which are wanting in any true passion, independent choruses and dances are attached, calling for nothing beyond outward display. Gluck's genius for depicting the wider and deeper emotions found no task fitted to its powers, and the inclination to mere grace and superficiality was one altogether foreign to his nature. Beauties of detail do not suffice in the consideration of a work of art. The opera was a failure, however, and it does not appear to have been reproduced.

Perhaps Gluck would now have paused in his endeavours,[ 72 ] had not new prospects opened which seemed to promise good results. A Frenchman named Du Rollet, attached to the embassy at Vienna, and an enthusiast for poetry and music, asserted that the tendency of Gluck's principles was in essentials the same as that of French opera style. He therefore assured him that in Paris only would his "IPHIGÉNIE EN AULIDE." reformation meet with approval, and urged that a true tragedy ought always to be the foundation of an opera. As an example, he suggested Racine's "Iphigénie en Aulide," and commissioned him to arrange it as an opera, and to take the preliminary steps for its production in Paris. Gluck accepted the proposal without hesitation.,

The circumstances were, in fact, very favourable. The principal difficulty against which Gluck had hitherto to contend, viz., the deep-rooted partiality for Italian music and its accepted forms, did not exist in Paris; for opera seria in its developed form had made as little way there as the display of fine execution, and even lovers of Italian music would have been loth to introduce its abuses and exaggerations of set purpose. French opera, on the contrary, in accordance with the genius of the nation, made its first principle dramatic and characteristic expression, which could only be attained by correct yet free treatment of musical forms, and by well-considered treatment of recitative. Choruses, too, which were for Gluck an important aid to climax and dramatic effect, were indispensable in French opera; and since Rameau's time the orchestra had been successfully employed as a means of characteristic expression. But the French school had hitherto failed to combine dignity and beauty with their dramatic force and expression; and here Gluck's Italian training enabled him to supply the deficiency. As far as comic opera was concerned, Grétry had preceded him with similar efforts, and had accustomed the ear of the Parisians to the mingling of French and Italian music. But to carry out such a reformation in the grand opera required a man of commanding qualities; and such an one Gluck had proved himself to be.

The choice of subjects was a happy one. Racine's tragedy was known as a masterpiece to the whole nation, and unless the adaptation were very clumsily made, success for the poetic share of the opera was assured. The advance on earlier operas is a very decided one. An important event forms the centre of the plot, dramatic contrasts, passions, and characters, are effectively portrayed. It is true that the spirit of the age of Louis XIV. runs FRENCH OPERA. through it all;[ 73 ] we have Greeks in patches and powder, Monseigneur Achille and Princesse Iphigénie behave with becoming courtesy and gallantry, and even the artistic representation is made subordinate to the ceremonial. But Gluck had been trained among these impressions, the forms were not irksome to him, and the greatness of his artistic individuality is nowhere more plainly seen than in his power of exhibiting at momentous crises the purely human and poetic emotions stripped of their outward disguise, and reflecting the ideal spirit of antique art by means of music in a way of which the poet had never dreamed. Gluck did not venture to depart from the national form of the versification; he was well aware that he must yield to the demands of French taste if he wished to influence the French on his main points. He not only strove to conform to external conditions, as, for instance, to the great extension of the ballet,[ 74 ] endeavouring to turn them to his own ends; he carefully studied the language, in order to declaim it and treat it musically in a way suitable to its character; he also eagerly studied the operas of his predecessors, Lully and Rameau, that he might adopt all that was truly and genuinely national in them. The influence of these studies may be recognised even in details; but Gluck turned to account whatever he adopted in a perfectly free and independent manner, and developed it still further. His most important innovation was the substitution of free Italian recitative, with the grand capabilities for characteristic expression given to it by Gluck himself, for the old "psalmodie." He changed throughout the fundamental character of the musical representation, and here he had no predecessors; for the treatment of the several parts of the composition after the Italian style, comic opera had, as we have seen, in some degree prepared the way. A "IPHIGÉNIE EN AULIDE." further advance, brought about by the greater vividness of the dramatic impersonations, was the cultivation of ensemble pieces; but this, as has been already remarked, is the weakest side of Gluck's performances.

Although Gluck's "Iphigénie" might rightfully claim to have perfected the French grand opera in its national sense, yet it was a difficult undertaking to gain recognition for this fact in Paris, and to produce there the work of a foreign, if not of an unknown composer. Du Rollet published a letter to D'Auvergne, one of the directors of the Grand-Opéra, in the "Mercure de France" (October, 1772), in which he acquaints him of Gluck's wish to produce his "Iphigénie" in Paris. He laid stress on Gluck's having preferred the French language and music to the Italian, and declared that his composition of Racine's masterpiece was altogether after the French taste; he hoped in this way to gain the favour of the public and the theatre management. As this met with no response, Gluck himself published a letter in the "Mercure" (February, 1773), in which, without undue submission, he reiterates the wish; he wastes great praise on J. J. Rousseau, who was destined to be the most determined opponent of the French language and music. At last Gluck succeeded in gaining the interest of the Dauphiness, Marie Antoinette, all difficulties were overcome, and in the autumn of 1773 Gluck went to Paris to put his opera in rehearsal.[ 75 ] Again hindrances were thrown in his way which it required all the force and vigour of his character to overcome. The hardest struggle was with the vocalists, male and female, and with the orchestra; they must be attached to him at all costs. But he was an implacable conductor,[ 76 ] and never gave way before a storm.[ 77 ] After six months rehearsing, "Iphigénie" was performed (February 14, 1774); the success of the first performance was not brilliant, but the second quite confirmed the victory. Gluck had succeeded (an important point in Paris) in raising public expectation to a high pitch FRENCH OPERA. beforehand, and he found zealous supporters among the journalists, especially the Abbé Arnaud; the opposition engendered by the enthusiastic partisanship of his admirers was in his favour in so far that it prevented the interest of the public from becoming faint.[ 78 ]

Opposition came, as might have been expected, from both sides;[ 79 ] the followers of Lully and Rameau would not grant any progress made, and saw in Gluck's innovations nothing but the harmful influence of Italian music,[ 80 ] while the partisans of the Italians looked upon Gluck's music as essentially identical with the "old French," and complained of the "tudesque" modifications of the Italian style.[ 81 ] As usual, neither party was satisfied with the concessions made to it, and still less would either acknowledge that its strong places had been overthrown. J. J. Rousseau alone acknowledged himself vanquished; and as he had previously done justice to Grétry's efforts, so he now extolled Gluck's music as being genuinely dramatic.[ 82 ] Not so Grimm. He was too well versed in Italian music not to perceive that if Gluck's ideas became prevalent, those forms which he held to be essential would soon be annihilated; Gluck's operas appeared to him a revival of the old French style, which would GLUCK'S OPERAS IN VIENNA. only hinder or retard the triumph of the Italian. It is true that out of deference to public opinion, and to that of many of his friends and of Gluck's royal patroness, he does not express himself very positively on the subject, but his real views cannot be mistaken.[ 83 ]

With just discrimination the directors had declared that they would not risk appearing before the public with one of Gluck's operas; if he would write six, they might have a chance of success. Gluck himself was aware that if he was to succeed in the long run, his "Iphigénie" must not be left long alone. He rapidly revised and elaborated "Orphée et Euridice," not at all to the advantage of the opera, in which he was induced, quite against his principles, to insert a long bravura aria by Bertoni.[ 84 ] It was performed on August 2, 1774, with great success,[ 85 ] and was followed on February 27, 1775, by a one-act opera, "L'Arbre Enchanté," and on August 11, 1775, by an opera in three acts, "La Cythère Assiégée," neither of which had any lasting effect. In order to insure a fresh and lasting success Gluck took in hand his "Alceste" anew. The text was thoroughly revised by Du Rollet, with the adoption of Rousseau's suggestions, especially in the second act; Hercules is introduced again, but not very skilfully.[ 86 ] Gluck's revision was a very thorough one; the old music was transposed, curtailed, or lengthened, the details altered, and new passages inserted, generally with admirable discrimination.[ 87 ] Then, in order to put new works in direct competition with his old compositions, he undertook to set operas by Quinault to music unaltered, and chose "Roland" and "Armida."

While Gluck was engaged on these works in Vienna, the FRENCH OPERA. supporters of Italian music, who were now convinced of the possibility of procuring foreign composers for the grand opera, sought on their side to oppose a rival to Gluck. Some time previously Madame Dubarry had been induced by La Borde's influence to obtain the presence in Paris of Piccinni, the most esteemed of Italian composers.[ 88 ] The Neapolitan ambassador, the Marquis Caraccioli, by his intellect and position a powerful patron of the arts and sciences, had been mainly instrumental in summoning Piccinni; and the young Queen, Marie Antoinette, who saw no necessity for bending her inclinations to party interests in the matter of music, and who, like her brother the Emperor, was personally attached to Italian music, gave her consent to Piccinni's appointment.

Marmontel declared himself ready to adapt an opera by Quinault for Piccinni, of whose music he announced himself the champion.[ 89 ] When Gluck heard that the work selected was the "Roland," on which he was already at work, he published a letter ("Année Littéraire," 1776), in which he bitterly complained of this affront, and violently assailed his adversaries.

Open war was now declared between the critics of the Gluckists and the Piccinnists, and carried on in pamphlets, journal articles, and epigrams, with so much violence that even the public were led into a partisanship more eager than had ever before arisen from a question of art.[ 90 ] The leaders of the Piccinnists were Marmontel and La Harpe, while Gluck's faithful partisans were Arnaud and Suard, who appeared as the Anonymous of Vaugirard.[ 91 ] Grimm took no direct share in the contest; but his comments on it show him, GLUCKISTS AND PICCINNISTS. in spite of apparent impartiality, to have been decidedly on the side of Piccinni.

The first performance of "Alceste," on April 23, 1776, was a failure, and it only gained in public favour by slow degrees.[ 92 ] "Iphigénie," too, which was reproduced, was severely criticised. But this severity served but to increase public sympathy, and Gluck's operas drew full houses, and became more and more unmistakably popular.

Piccinni arrived in Paris quite at the end of 1776. He was welcomed by all the composers, Grétry alone failing to pay his respects to him. For this he was severely censured, since on first coming to Paris he had announced himself as a pupil of Piccinni, which he was not.[ 93 ] Strange and unknown in Paris, Piccinni took a great distaste to its harsh climate, its unaccustomed way of living. His ignorance of the French language isolated him and debarred him from any personal share in the contest of which he was the subject.

His easy-going and peace-loving temperament prevented his wishing to join in the fray, while for Gluck's passionate nature it was a satisfaction to give vent to angry vituperation in the public journals.

Marmontel relates how he had to instruct Piccinni in French by reading him his opera every day as a task, and translating what Piccinni had to compose.[ 94 ] Thus slowly proceeded the work of the dissatisfied maestro, and every day he doubted of its success more and more.[ 95 ]

Gluck began the rehearsals of his "Armide" in July, 1777, and it was performed on September 23. The opera, on which Gluck had built such confident hopes of success, was very coolly received.[ 96 ] Its failure was owing partly to the dangerous rivalry of Lully, partly to the fact that the subject was not suited to his genius,[ 97 ] and partly also to the premonitory shadow of Piccinni's new work. Justice was not done to "Armide" until later.[ 98 ]

La Harpe attacked it bitterly, and Gluck, in a violent retort, called for the aid of the Anonymous of Vaugirard, which did not tarry. Then began the rehearsals of Piccinni's opera, and the storm of partisanship was let loose.[ 99 ] Piccinni was incapable of restraining it. While his friends espoused his cause with zeal, while Gluck himself sought to restrain the singers and the orchestra,[ 100 ] Piccinni looked sorrowfully to heaven and sighed, "Ah! toutte va male, toutte!" Firmly convinced that the opera would be a failure, and resolved to return to Naples on the following day, he went to the first performance (January, 1778), consoling his family with the assurance that a cultivated nation like the French would do a composer no bodily harm, even if they did not admire his operas—and experienced a brilliant triumph.[ 101 ]

CHAPTER XIX. PARIS, 1778.

SUCH was the condition of musical affairs at the time of Mozart's arrival in Paris. The successes on either side, and the violence of partisan controversy, had, as might have been expected, prevented any decisive conclusion of the dispute. We know now that Gluck remained master of the field, and that the influence of Lully and Rameau sinking henceforth into oblivion, Gluck determined the character of French opera in all its essential points as it still exists, in spite of its many Italian modifications. But at the time of UNFAVOURABLE PROSPECTS. which we are speaking the Gluckists and Piccinnists were carrying on the warfare with greater bitterness than ever, and the old national party, although pushed into the background, was seeking to free itself from both influences.[ 1 ]

The interest of the public was more eagerly excited than ever, but, as usual, more for the sake of the literary scandal and personal animosity than with any love of art, and when audiences flocked to the opera they desired not to enjoy but to participate in what was going on.

This was an unfortunate state of things for a young composer whose object was to acquire an honourable position for himself; he must, in order to be heard at all, attach himself to one or other party, and so lose his independence, the only true foundation of excellence. To put an end to the dispute by forcing the combatants to acknowledge a success greater than that of either was at this juncture beyond the power of even a transcendent genius; and Mozart brought nothing with him to Paris but his genius.

He had failed in obtaining an introduction to the Queen Marie Antoinette from Vienna, and access to the circle of the nobility was no easy matter. Mozart had little to expect from the support of his fellow-artists, for they were all ranged against each other, and had enough to do to fight their own battles. Gluck had left Paris when Mozart entered it; he renewed his acquaintance with Piccinni, whom he had known in Italy (Vol. I., p. 111), and was polite in his greetings when he met him at the Concert Spirituel and elsewhere; but there the intercourse ended. "I know my affairs, and he his, and that suffices" (July 9, 1778).

We find no traces of any acquaintance with Grétry, who never mentions Mozart in his "Mémoires." He was resigned to professional envy, and had already experienced his full share of it; but in Paris at that time the "gens de lettres" were the arbiters of taste and fashion. Pamphlets and critical articles, epigrams and bon mots, proceeding from PARIS, 1778. the literary circle, ruled public opinion, and a thorough knowledge of music was, as a rule, the last requirement thought of by those who strove to influence its progress.

It was a new world to Wolfgang, in which he would have found it difficult to move successfully and uprightly, even if he had gained access to its favour.

Grimm, who might have introduced him, was himself a partisan, and esteemed only by his own party; besides which, he could not fail soon to discover that Mozart was the last man in the world for this kind of intercourse. Nevertheless, he received him very kindly, and sought to make him known wherever he could; they were always quite of accord in their opinions of French music. "Baron Grimm and I," writes Mozart (April 5, 1778), "often pour out our wrath over the music of the present day, but in private, be it understood; in public, it is all 'bravo, bravissimo,' and clapping one's hands till the fingers burn." And in another letter he says: "What annoys me is that the French have improved their taste just enough to enable them to listen to good music. But their own is still very bad. Ay! upon my word, but it is! and their singing! oime! If they would only let Italian songs alone, I could forgive their Frenchified chirruping; but it is really unpardonable so to spoil good music."

Mozart's outward circumstances were not pleasant. In order to economise (for his mother found everything in Paris half as dear again as elsewhere) they took a dark, uncomfortable lodging, so small that Wolfgang could not get his clavier into it. But their life was rendered considerably more cheerful by the presence of their Mannheim friends. "Wendling," writes the mother (April 5) (there is no more talk of his irreligion), "has prepared Wolfgang's way for him, and has now introduced him to all his friends. He is a true benefactor, and M. von Grimm has promised him to use all his influence, which is greater than Wendling's, to make Wolfgang known." In Paris, too, Mozart became better acquainted with Raaff, and learned to value him as an artist and as a friend. This was greatly owing to the interest Raaff took in the Weber family; he appreciated WOLFGANG'S HOPES AND FEARS. Aloysia's talents, promised to give her lessons, and approved of Mozart's liking for her; this was all the greater consolation since he dared not speak openly on the subject to his father, although he did not attempt to conceal his correspondence with the Weber family. Nor could his wishes and feelings fail to be perceived when he wrote (July 3, 1778):—

I have never been backward, and never will be. I will always use my powers to the uttermost. God can make all things good. I have something in my mind, for which I pray to God daily; if it is His Divine will it will come to pass; if not, I am content. I have at least done my best. If all goes well, and things turn out as I wish, then you must do your share, or the whole business will fall through; I trust to your kindness to do it. Do not attempt to discover my meaning, for the immediate favour I have to beg of you is to let me keep my ideas to myself until the right time comes.

He does not seem to have been very hopeful (March 29, 1778)

I am pretty well, thank God: but for the rest, I often scarcely know or care for anything; I am quite indifferent, and take little pleasure in anything. What most supports and invigorates me is the thought that you, dear father, and my dear sister are safe and well, that I am an honest German; and that although I cannot always say what I like, I can always think what I like—which is the main point.

In a mood like this the encouragement of musical compatriots would be doubly grateful to him. This was freely bestowed on him by the ambassador from the Palatinate, Count von Sickingen, to whom Gemmingen and Cannabich had given him letters, and Raaff a personal introduction:—

He is a charming man, a passionate lover and true judge of music. I spent eight hours with him quite alone; we were at the clavier morning and afternoon, and up to ten o'clock in the evening, all the time making, praising, admiring, altering, discussing, and criticising nothing but music: he has about thirty operatic scores.

He maintained this acquaintance zealously, often dining with the Count, and spending the evening over his own compositions with so much interest that the time went without their knowing it (June 12, 1778).

PARIS, 1778.

The Mannheim friends were engaged for the Concert Spirituel, which had been founded in 1725. Anne Danican Philidor, elder brother to the composer already mentioned, was accorded the privilege, on payment of a fixed sum, of giving about four-and-twenty concerts in the course of the year, on festivals when there was no grand opera. They were given in a hall of the Tuileries, and consisted of instrumental music, and sacred or classical compositions for chorus or solo singing.[ 2 ] Wolfgang was introduced to the director, Jean le Gros (1739-1793), and at once received from him a commission, with which he acquaints his father (April 5, 1778).

The kapellmeister, Holzbauer, has sent a Miserere; but the Mannheim chorus being weak and bad, while here it is good and strong, his choruses make no effect; therefore M. le Gros has commissioned me to write other choruses. Holzbauer's introductory chorus remains; the first by me is "Quoniam iniquitatem meam ego," &c., allegro; the second, adagio, "Ecce enim in iniquitatibus"; then, allegro, "Ecce enim veritatem dilexisti," up to "ossa humiliata." Then an andante for soprano, tenor and bass soli, "Cor mundum créa"; and "Redde mihi lætitiam," allegro as far as "te convertentur." Then I have done a recitative for the basses, "Libera me de sanguinibus," because it is followed by a bass song by Holzbauer, "Domine, labia mea." In the same way, because "Sacrificium Deo, spiritus" is an andante tenor air for Raaff, with solo oboe and bassoon, I have added a little recitative, "Quoniam si voluisses," also with oboe and bassoon concertante: recitatives are very much in vogue here. "Benigne fac" up to "muri Jerusalem," andante moderato, chorus. Then "Tunc acceptabis" to "super altare tuum vitulos," allegro, tenor solo (Le Gros), and chorus together.[ 3 ] I must say I am glad I have finished this work, for it is confoundedly awkward when one is in a hurry with work and cannot write at home. But it is finished, thank God, and will, I think, make an effect. M. Gossec, whom you must know, told M. Le Gros, after seeing my first chorus, that it was charming, and would certainly tell in performance; that the words were well arranged, and admirably set to music. He is a good friend of mine, but a dry, reserved man.

That this scampering work (for Mozart was only a few COMPOSITIONS FOR THE CONCERT SPIRITUEL days over it) should form his début before the French public caused his father great uneasiness; but it was uncalled for, for in his next letter Wolfgang informs him (March 1, 1778)

I must tell you, by the way, that my chorus work came to nothing. Holzbauer's Miserere is too long as it is, and did not please; besides which, they only performed two of my choruses instead of four, and left out the best. It did not much matter, for many people did not know that they were mine, and many more never heard of me. Notwithstanding, they were highly applauded at rehearsal, and, what is more important (for I do not think much of Parisian applause), I liked them myself.

Another work was occasioned by the presence of the Mannheim performers, with whom was associated the celebrated hornist, Joh. Punto (1748-1803), who in Mozart's opinion "played magnificently." Mozart set to work at a Sinfonie Concertante for flute (Wendling), oboe (Ramm), French horn (Punto), and bassoon (Ritter), which was to be performed at one of the concerts. But he was soon obliged to write to his father (May 1, 1778):—

There is another "hickl-hackl" with the Sinfonie Concertante. I believe there is something behind, for I have my enemies here, as where have I not had them? It is a good sign, however. I was obliged to write the symphony in great haste, worked hard at it, and thoroughly satisfied the four performers. Le Gros had it four days for copying, and I always found it lying in the same place. At last, the day but one before the concert, I did not find it; searched about among the music, and found it hidden away. I could do nothing but ask Le Gros, "A propos, have you given the Sinfonie Concertante to be copied?" "No, I forgot it." Of course I could not order him to have it copied and played, so said nothing. The day it should have been performed I went to the concert; Ramm and Punto came up to me in a rage, and asked why my sinfonie concertante was not played. "I do not know; this is the first I have heard of it." Ramm was furious, and abused Le Gros in French, saying that it was unhandsome of him, &c. What annoyed me most in the whole affair was Le Gros not telling me a word about it, as if I was to know nothing of it. If he had only made an apology, that the time was too short, or anything; but no, not a word.[ 4 ] I think Cambini, an Italian PARIS, 1778. composer here, is at the bottom of it, for I was the innocent cause of his being extinguished on his first introduction to Le Gros. He has written some pretty quartets, one of which I had heard at Mannheim; I praised it to him, and played the beginning; Ritter, Ramm, and Punto were there, and they left me no peace, insisting that I should go on, and make up myself what I could not remember. So I did it, and Cambini was quite beside himself, and could not refrain from saying, "Questa è una gran testa!" But it must have been sorely against the grain with him.

The father was of the same opinion, and warned Wolfgang that Cambini would not be the only one who would seek to injure him; but he must not allow himself to be disconcerted (April 29, 1778). Wolfgang expressed himself with considerable dissatisfaction:—

If this were a place where the people had ears to hear, and a heart to feel, and just a little understanding and taste for music, I would laugh from my heart at all these things; but, as far as music is concerned, I am among a set of dolts and blockheads. How can it be otherwise? They are just the same in all their transactions, love-affairs, and passions. There is no place in the world like Paris. You must not think that I exaggerate in speaking so of the music here. Ask whom you will (only not a native Frenchman), and they will tell you the same. Well, I am here, and must make the best of it, for your sake. I shall thank the Almighty if I come out of it with unvitiated taste. I pray to God daily to give me grace to stand firm, and do honour to myself and the German nation, and that He will grant me success, so that I may make plenty of money, help you out of all your present troubles, and that we may meet once more, and all live happily together again.

Through the good offices of Grimm, Mozart was recommended to the Duc de Guines, who had been recalled from his post as Ambassador in London after his notorious lawsuit with secretary Tort[ 5 ] in 1776, and stood high in favour with the Queen.[ 6 ] L. Mozart wrote (March 28, 1778):[ 7 ]—

My dear Son,—I beg that you will do your best to gain the friendship of the Duc de Guines, and to keep well with him; I have frequently read in the papers of his high place in the royal favour; the Queen being now enceinte, there are sure to be grand festivities when the child is born; you may get something to do, and make your fortune; for in these cases everything depends upon the pleasure of the Queen. CONCERTO IN C MAJOR. The Duke was amusing and fond of music;[ 8 ] as Mozart himself says, he played the flute inimitably, and his daughter the harp magnificently.[ 9 ] He gave Mozart a commission to compose a concerto for flute and harp. These were exactly the two instruments which Mozart could not endure.[ 10 ] But this did not prevent his accomplishing his task to the perfect satisfaction of the Duke. The concerto (299 K.) is in C major, with accompaniments for a small orchestra, and consists of the usual three movements. In conformity with the nature of the instruments the character of the concerto is cheerful and graceful, and it is excellent of its kind. Each movement is well and compactly formed, and has an abundance of rich melody, enhanced in effect by the harmonic treatment, the varied character of the accompaniment, and the alternation of the solo instruments. The thematic treatment is only lightly sketched in so as to keep the interest alive; but in the middle movement of the first part the harmonic arrangement betrays a master-hand; at its close a fresh melody is introduced, as was then the rule, in order to excite the attention anew. Especially graceful and tender is the Andantino, accompanied only by a quartet. The solo instruments are brilliant without being particularly difficult; the orchestra is discreetly made use of to support the delicate solo instruments without interfering with their effect; but the easy setting ä jour is elaborated in detail with great skill and decision, both as regards the sound effects and the passages and turns of the accompaniment.

Besides this, Mozart gave the Duke's daughter two hours' lessons in composition daily, for which generous payment might be expected. He describes the lessons minutely (May 14, 1778):—

She has talent and even genius, but especially has she a marvellous memory: she knows two hundred pieces, and can play them all by heart.

"Once when we were talking of instruments, Mozart said that he detested the harp and the flute."

PARIS, 1778.

She is, however, very doubtful whether she has any talent for composition, particularly as regards ideas and imagination; but her father—who, between ourselves, is a little infatuated about her—says she has plenty of ideas, but is over-modest, and has too little confidence in herself. Well, we shall see. If she does not get any ideas or imagination (at present she has absolutely none) it is all in vain, for, God knows, I cannot give them to her. Her father has no intention of making her into a great composer. "I do not wish her," says he, "to write operas, concertos, songs, or symphonies, but only grand sonatas for her instrument and mine." To-day I gave her her fourth lesson, and, as far as regards the rules of composition and exercises, I am fairly satisfied. She has supplied a very good bass to the first minuet which I set her. She is beginning now to write in three parts. She does it, but she gets ennuyée. I cannot help it, for I cannot possibly take her farther. Even if she had genius it would be too soon, and unhappily she has none—everything must be done artificially. She has no ideas, and so nothing comes of it. I have tried her in every sort of way. Among other things, it came into my head to write down a very simple minuet, and to try if she could write a variation on it. No; it was in vain. "Well," I thought, "she does not know how to begin;" so I began to vary the first bar, and told her to go on with it, and keep the same idea; and at last she managed it. When that was done, I told her to begin something herself, only the first part of a melody. She reflected for a quarter of an hour, but nothing came of it. Then I wrote the first four bars of a minuet, and said, "See what a donkey I am; I have begun a minuet, and cannot even finish the first part. Be so kind as to do it for me." She thought it was impossible. At last, after much trouble, something came to light; and I was very glad of it. Then I made her complete the minuet—only the first part, of course. I have given her nothing to do at home but to alter my four bars, and make something out of them—to invent a new beginning, even if the harmony is the same, so long as the melody is altered. I shall see to-morrow what she has made of it.

The father was justly astonished at the demands made by Wolfgang on the talent of his pupil, and on the earnestness with which he threw himself into his task (May 28,1778):—

You write that you have just given Mdlle. de Guines her fourth lesson, and you want her to write down her own ideas; do you think that everybody has your genius? It will come in time. She has a good memory; let her steal, or more politely, adapt; it does no harm at the beginning, until courage comes. Your plan of variations is a good one, only persevere. If M. le Duc sees anything, however small, by his daughter, he will be delighted. It is really an excellent acquaintance.

But Wolfgang had not the art of cultivating such LIFE IN PARIS. acquaintances any more than of giving lessons in composition to young ladies of no talent; he wrote later that she was thoroughly stupid and thoroughly lazy (July 9, 1778), and in conclusion the Duke offered him two louis-d'or, which he indignantly rejected.

He had some other pupils, and might have had more had not the distances in Paris been so great that his time was too much curtailed thereby; he complains (July 31, 1778):—

It is no joke to give lessons here. You must not think that it is laziness; no! but it is quite against my nature, my way of life. You know that I, so to speak, live in music; that I am busy at it the whole day, planning, studying, considering. Lessons come in the way of this; I shall certainly have some hours free, but I need them rather for rest than for work.

Highly distasteful to him also were visits to people of rank, and attempts to gain their favour. He enumerates all the disagreeables of it (May 1, 1778):—

You write that I should pay plenty of visits to make new acquaintances and renew old ones. It is really impossible. To go on foot takes too long and makes one too dirty, for Paris is inconceivably filthy; and to drive costs four or five livres a day, and all for nothing; the people pay compliments and nothing more; engage me for such or such a day, and then I play, and they say "Oh! c'est un prodige, c'est inconcevable, c'est étonnant!" and then adieu. I have already spent money enough in that way, and often uselessly, for the people have been out. No one can know the annoyance of it who is not here. Paris is very much altered; the French are not nearly so polite as they were fourteen years ago; they approach very near to rudeness now, and are dreadfully arrogant.

The example which he gives his father sufficiently justifies his complaints, and is as significant of the impertinence of the nobility towards artists as of Mozart's powerlessness to resent such behaviour:—

M. Grimm gave me a letter to Madame la Duchesse de Chabot,[ 11 ] and I went there. The purport of the letter was principally to recommend me PARIS, 1778. to the Duchesse de Bourbon[ 12 ] (then in a convent),[ 13 ] and to bring me again to her remembrance. A week passed without any notice taken; but, as she had already commanded my presence in that time, I went. I was left to wait half an hour in an icily cold, very large room, with no stove or means of heating it. At last the Duchesse de Chabot came in, and politely begged me to make allowances for the clavier, since she had none in good order; would I try it? I said I should have been delighted to play something, but that I could not feel my fingers for the cold, and I begged her to allow me to go to a room where at least there was a stove. "Oh, oui, monsieur; vous avez raison," was her only answer. Then she sat down and began to draw for at least an hour with some other gentlemen, who all sat round a great table. I had the honour of standing waiting this hour. The doors and windows were open; very soon, not only my hands, but my feet and whole body were stiff with cold, and my head began to ache. No one spoke to me, and I did not know what to do for cold, headache, and fatigue. At last, to cut it short, I played on the wretched, miserable pianoforte. The most vexatious part of all was that Madame and all the gentlemen went on with their employment without a moment's pause or notice, so that I played for the walls and chairs. All these things put together were too much for my patience. I began the Fischer variations, played the half, and got up. Then followed no end of éloges. I said what was quite true, that I could do myself no credit with such a clavier, and that I should be very pleased to appoint another day when I could have a better clavier. But she did not consent, and I was obliged to wait another half-hour, till her husband came in.[ 14 ] But he sat down beside me, and listened with all attention; and then I—I forgot cold, and headache, and annoyance, and played on the wretched clavier as you know I can play when I am in a good humour. Give me the best clavier in Europe, but with an audience who do not or will not understand and feel with me when I play, and I lose all pleasure in it. I told the whole affair to M. Grimm.

Wolfgang tells his father (May 14, 1778) of a prospect of a settled position, in which, however, he was disappointed:—

Rudolph (the French horn-player) is in the royal service here, and very friendly to me. He has offered me the place of organist at Versailles, if I like to take it. It brings in 2,000 livres a year, but I should have to live six months at Versailles, the other six where I OFFER OF COURT SERVICE. chose. I must ask the advice of my friends, for 2,000 livres is no such great sum. It would be if it were in German coin, but not here; it makes 83 louis-d'or and 8 livres a year; that is, 915 florins 45 kreutzers of our money (a large sum), but only 333 dollars and 2 livres here, which is not much. It is dreadful how soon a dollar goes! I cannot be surprised at people thinking so little of a louis-d'or here, for it is very little; four dollars, or a louis-d'or, which is the same thing, are gone directly.

His father, who considered a settled position of such importance that a certain amount of concession should be made for it, advised him to reflect well on the proposal, if indeed Rudolph (1730-1812), who had been a member of the band since 1763, had sufficient influence to bring it about (May 28, 1778):—

You must not reject it at once. You must consider that the 83 louis-d'or are earned in six months; that you have half the year for other work; that it probably is a permanent post, whether you are ill or well; that you can give it up when you like; that you are at Court, consequently daily under the eyes of the King and Queen, and so much the nearer your fortune; that you may be promoted to one of the two kapellmeisters' places; that in time, if promotion is the rule, you may become clavier-master to the royal family, which would be a lucrative post; that there would be nothing to hinder your writing for the theatre, concert spirituel, &c., and printing music with dedications to your grand acquaintance among the ministers who frequent Versailles, especially in summer; that Versailles itself is a small town, or at all events, has many respectable inhabitants, among whom pupils would surely be found; and that, finally, this is the surest way to the favour and protection of the queen. Read this to the Baron von Grimm, and ask his opinion.

But Grimm took Wolfgang's view of the matter, expressed in his answer to his father (July 3, 1778):—

My inclination has never turned towards Versailles; I took the advice of Baron Grimm, and others of my best friends, and they all thought with me. It is small pay. I should have to waste half the year in a place where nothing else could be earned, and where my talents would be buried. For to be in the royal service is to be forgotten in Paris—and then to be only organist! I should like a good post extremely, but nothing less than kapellmeister—and well paid.

Mozart's absorbing desire was to have an opportunity of distinguishing himself as a composer, above all things by an opera. There seemed a fair prospect of doing this soon PARIS, 1778. after his arrival in Paris. He had renewed his acquaintance with Noverre (p. 145), who, after giving up the direction of the ballet at Vienna in 1775, had, through the Queen's influence, been appointed ballet-master to the Grand-Opéra in 1776.[ 15 ] He took such a liking for Mozart that he not only invited him to his table as often as he chose, but commissioned him to write an opera. He proposed as a good subject, "Alexander and Roxane," and set a librettist to work at the adaptation of it. The first act was ready at the beginning of April; and a month later Mozart was in hopes of receiving the whole text. It had then to be submitted to the approbation of the director of the Grand-Opéra, De Vismes; but this did not seem to offer any difficulty, Noverre's influence being powerful with the director.

As soon as L. Mozart heard of the prospect of an opera, he wrote (April 12, 1778):—

I strongly advise you, before writing for the French stage, to hear their operas, and find what pleases them. In this way you will become quite a Frenchman, and I hope you will be specially careful to accustom yourself to the proper accent of the language.

And he continues to impress upon him (April 29, 1778):—

Now that you tell me you are about to write an opera, follow my advice, and reflect that your whole reputation hangs on your first piece. Listen before you write, and study the national taste; listen to their operas, and examine them. I know your wonderful powers of imitation. Do not write hurriedly—no sensible composer does that. Study the words beforehand with Baron von Grimm and Noverre; make sketches, and let them hear them. It is always done: Voltaire reads his poems to his friends, hears their judgments, and follows their suggestions. Your honour and profit depend upon it; and as soon as we have money we will go to Italy again.

Wolfgang was aware of the difficulties which lay before him, especially with regard to the language and the vocalists, and expressed himself energetically on both points (July 9, 1778)

If I do get as far as writing an opera, I shall have trouble enough over it; that I do not mind, for I am used to it, if only this cursed French PROSPECTS OF AN OPERA, 1778. language were not so utterly opposed to music! It is truly miserable; German is divine in comparison. And then the vocalists, male and female! they have no right to the name, for they do not sing, but shriek and howl, and all from the nose and the throat.

In spite of all this, he was eager to set to work (July 31, 1778):—

I assure you that I shall be only too pleased if I do succeed in writing an opera. The language is the invention of the devil, that is true; and the same difficulties are before me that beset all composers; but I feel as well able as any one else to surmount them; in fact, when I tell myself that all goes well with my opera, I feel a fire within me, and my limbs tingle with the desire to make the French know, honour, and fear the German nation more.

In the meantime L. Mozart heard that at the very time when Noverre was interesting himself so warmly in Wolfgang's opera, he had engaged him to write the music for a ballet which was coming out (May 14, 1778). When, after a considerable lapse of time, the father inquired what had become of this ballet, and what he had made by it, Wolfgang had almost forgotten the subject (July 9, 1778):—

As to Noverre's ballet, I only wrote that perhaps he would be making a new one. He just wanted half a ballet, and for that I provided the music; that is, there were six pieces by other people in it, consisting of poor, miserable French songs; I did the overture and contredanses, altogether about twelve pieces. The ballet has been performed four times with great applause.[ 16 ] But now I mean to do nothing without being sure beforehand what I am to get for it, for this was only as a good turn to Noverre.

But such "good turns" were precisely what Noverre had in view. It suited him, as it did Le Gros, to have at command the services of a young artist eager to compose and ready to accept hope and patronage in lieu of payment, whose name it was not necessary to risk bringing before the public, since he was only employed as a stop-gap. But it would be a very different and far more serious thing for them to bring forward an original work, such as an opera, by this PARIS, 1778. same unknown young man. In case of failure the protectors would share the responsibilities of the protégé, while success would bring fame and profit to the latter alone. Nothing shows more clearly Mozart's unsuspecting nature than his explanation of the long delay of his libretto (July 9, 1778):—

It is always so with an opera. It is so hard to find a good poem; the old ones, which are the best, are not in the modern style, and the new ones are good for nothing; for poetry, which was the only thing the French had to be proud of, gets worse every day, and the poetry of the opera is just the part that must be good, for they do not understand the music. There are only two operas in aria which I could write—one in two acts, the other in three. The one in two acts is "Alexander and Roxane," but the poet who is writing it is still in the country. That in three acts is "Demofoonte" (by Metastasio), translated and mixed with choruses and dances, and specially arranged for the French theatre» and this I have not yet been able to see.

The father saw through it all more plainly, and cautioned Wolfgang, if he wanted to succeed with an opera in Paris, to make himself known beforehand (August 27, 1778):—

You must make a name for yourself. When did Gluck, when did Piccinni, when did all these people come forward? Gluck is not less than sixty, and it is twenty-six or twenty-seven years since he was first spoken of; and can you really imagine that the French public, or even the manager of the theatre, can be convinced of your powers of composition without having heard anything by you in their lives, or knowing you, except in your childhood as an excellent clavier-player and precocious genius? You must exert yourself, and make yourself known as a composer in every branch; make opportunities, and be indefatigable in making friends and in urging them on; wake them up when their energies slacken, and do not take for granted that they have done all they say they have. I should have written long ago to M. de Noverre if I had known his title and address.

But this way of pushing his talents was completely foreign to Wolfgang's nature; and so it followed, in the natural course of things, that after a delay of months Noverre declared that he might be able to help him to a libretto, but could not insure the opera being performed when it was ready.

One success, however, was to be granted him in Paris. He had naturally ceased to visit Le Gros since the latter PARISIAN SYMPHONY. had so ruthlessly rejected his Sinfonie Concertante, but had been every day with Raaff, who lived in the same house. He had chanced to meet Le Gros there, who made the politest apologies, and begged him again to write a symphony for the Concert Spirituel. How could Mozart resist such a petition? On June 12 he took the symphony which he had just finished to Count Sickingen, where Raaff was. He continues:—

They were both highly pleased. I myself am quite satisfied with it. Whether it will please generally I do not know; and, truth to say, I care very little; for whom have I to please? The very few intelligent Frenchmen that there are I can answer for; as for the stupid ones, it does not signify much whether they are pleased or not. But I am in hopes that even the donkeys will find something to admire. I have not omitted the premier coup d'archet!—and that is enough for them. What a fuss they make about that, to be sure! Was Teufel! I see no difference. They just begin together, as they do elsewhere. It is quite ludicrous.[ 17 ]

The symphony pleased unusually, however, as he tells his father (July 3, 1778):—

It was performed on Corpus Christi day with all applause. I hear that a notice of it has appeared in the "Courrier de l'Europe." I was very unhappy over the rehearsal, for I never heard anything worse in my life; you cannot imagine how they scraped and scrambled over the symphony twice. I was really unhappy; I should like to have rehearsed it again, but there are so many things, that there was no time. So I went to bed with a heavy heart and a discontented and angry spirit. The day before, I decided not to go to the concert; but it was a fine evening, and I determined at last to go, but with the intention, if it went as ill as at the rehearsal, of going into the orchestra, taking the violin out of the hands of M. La Houssaye, and conducting myself. I prayed for God's grace that it might go well, for it is all to His honour and glory; and, ecce! the symphony began. Raaff stood close to me, and PARIS, 1778. in the middle of the first allegro was a passage that I knew was sure to please; the whole audience was struck, and there was great applause.

I knew when I was writing it that it would make an effect, so I brought it in again at the end, da capo. The andante pleased also, but especially the last allegro. I had heard that all the last allegros here, like the first, begin with all the instruments together, and generally in unison; so I began with the violins alone piano for eight bars, followed at once by a forte. The audience (as I had anticipated) cried "Hush!" at the piano but directly the forte began they took to clapping. As soon as the symphony was over I went into the Palais-Royal, took an ice, told my beads as I had vowed, and went home.

So brilliant a success was not wanting in more lasting results: "M. Le Qros has taken a tremendous fancy to me," he writes (July 9, 1778); and he was commissioned to write a French oratorio for performance at the Concert Spirituel during the following Lent:—

My symphony was unanimously applauded; and Le Gros is so pleased with it that he calls it his best symphony.[ 18 ] Only the andante does not hit his taste; he says there are too many changes of key in it, and it is too long; but the real truth is that the audience forgot to clap their hands so loud as for the first and last movements; the andante is more admired than any other part by myself, and by all connoisseurs, as well as by the majority of the audience; it is just the contrary of what Le Gros says, being unaffected and short. But for his satisfaction (and that of others, according to him) I have written another. Either is good of its kind, for they differ greatly; perhaps, on the whole, I prefer the second one.

The symphony (297 K.), well known, by the name of the French or Parisian Symphony, was repeated with the new andante on August 15. It consists of three movements in the customary form, except that none of the parts are repeated entire, although they are perfectly distinct. This was a concession to the Parisian taste. Wolfgang writes to his father (September 11, 1778) that his earlier symphonies would not please there: "We in Germany have a taste for lengthy performances, but in point of fact, it is better to be short and PARISIAN SYMPHONY. good," The first and last movements are unusually animated and restless, with an almost unbroken rapidity of movement; and the different subjects offer no contrasts as to character, being all in the same light, restless style. Thematic elaboration is only hinted at, except in the well worked-out middle movement of the finale. Melodies are scattered through the whole in great abundance, often connected with each other in a highly original and attractive manner. Suspense is kept up by strong contrasts of forte and piano, by sudden breaks and imperceptible modulations, and by striking harmonic effects. The general impression given by both movements is animated and brilliant, but they are more calculated to stir the intellect than to awaken the deeper emotions, and are therefore well suited to a Parisian audience. The same is the case with the tender and beautiful andante, which only now and then, surreptitiously as it were, betrays the existence of deep feeling. There are, as has been seen, two versions of the andante, both still existing in Mozart's handwriting—the second considerably shorter than the first. The leading part is minutely given throughout the score of the whole piece (which is marked andantino), besides a fixed subject being indicated for the bass, and in some places for the other instruments. After thus laying down, as it were, the ground plan, he proceeded to details, making few alterations beyond some slight abbreviations. When, in working out the movement, he came to a passage which seemed to him tedious or superfluous, he struck it out, and went on with the next. This has been the case with several unimportant passages, and with one longer one, a transition to the theme by means of an imitative passage (after page 36, bar 6, of the score); soon after, too, a middle passage with flute and oboe solos is cut out. After thus elaborating the movement, he hastily copied it all, as it is now printed.[ 19 ] The later andante is printed in a Parisian edition of the symphony;[ 20 ] it is far less important than the first, and was PARIS, 1778. rightly rejected by Mozart. It is worthy of remark that the violoncello is employed as a leading instrument.

The orchestral workmanship shows that Mozart had not listened to the Mannheim band in vain; the different instruments form a well-ordered whole, in which each has its individual significance. It is only necessary to examine the thematic arrangement in the last movement (score, page 54) to perceive how skilfully the effect of varied tone-colouring is taken into account, while at the same time, by means of contrapuntal treatment, due prominence is given to the purely melodious element. It may well be imagined that Mozart would not let slip the opportunity of trying the splendid effect of a symphony with flutes, oboes, and clarinets (Vol. I., p. 385). But the clarinets are sparely used as a foreign importation, and, together with the trumpets and drums, are altogether omitted from the andante. Large demands are made on the executive delicacy of the orchestra, and in many places the whole effect depends on a well-managed crescendo, as it had never done in previous works; in fact, it is not too much to say that many of the subjects would not have been conceived as they are, without the prospect of their performance by a well-organised orchestra.

During this interval Mozart also completed the clavier sonatas, with violin accompaniment, which he had begun at Mannheim (301-306 K.), the fourth bearing the inscription "ä Paris," and busied himself to find a publisher for them who would pay him well.[ 21 ] He found leisure, also, to compose a capriccio for his sister's birthday.

Thus we see Mozart, disliking Paris and the Parisians, deriving little practical gain from all his exertions, and yet striving in his own way to attain the position which was his due, when an event occurred which plunged himself and his family into the deepest grief. Paris had never agreed with the Frau Mozart. Their lodging in the "Hötel des quatre fils d'Aymon," in the Rue du Gros-Chenet—a musical quarter DEATH OF MOZART'S MOTHER. —was bad, as well as the living, and she sat all day "as if under arrest," Wolfgang's affairs necessitating his almost constant absence. She was ill for three weeks in May, and intended, on her recovery, to seek out better lodgings, and manage the housekeeping herself. But in June she fell ill again; she was bled, and wrote afterwards to her husband (June 12, 1778) that she was very weak, and had pains in her arm and her eyes, but that on the whole she was better. But the improvement was only apparent, and her illness took a serious turn; the physician whom Grimm sent in gave up hope, and after a fortnight of the deepest anxiety, which Wolfgang passed at his mother's bedside, she gently passed away on July 3. His only support at this trying time was a musician named Heina, who had known his father in former days, and had often, with his wife, visited Frau Mozart in her solitude. Wolfgang's first thought was to break the news gently to his father, who was ill prepared for so crushing a blow. He wrote to him at once, saying that his mother was ill, and that her condition excited alarm; at the same time he acquainted their true friend Bullinger with the whole truth, and begged him to break the dreadful news to his father as gently as possible. In a few days, when he knew that this had been done, he wrote again himself in detail, offering all the consolation he could, and strove to turn his father's thoughts from the sad subject to the consideration of his own prospects. This letter[ 22 ] affords a fresh example of the deep and tender love which bound parents and children together, and of Wolfgang's own sentiments and turn of mind. The consolations he offers, and the form in which he expresses them, are those of one who has himself passed through all the sad experiences of life; but to his father, whose teaching had tended to produce this effect, his expressions were justified and correct. With a natural and genuine sorrow for his irreparable loss is combined a manly composure, which sought not to obtain relief by indulging in sorrow, but to look forward calmly and steadily to the future and its duties.

PARIS, 1778.

As a loving son, he set himself to the filial task of comforting and supporting his father. After hearing that the latter was aware of his wife's death, and resigned to God's will, Wolfgang answers (July 31, 1778):—

Sad as your letter made me, I was beyond measure pleased to find that you take everything in a right spirit, and that I need not be uneasy about my dear father and my darling sister. My impulse after reading your letter was to fall on my knees and thank God for His mercy. I am well and strong again now, and have only occasional fits of melancholy, for which the best remedy is writing or receiving letters—that restores my spirits again at once.

He felt, and with justice, that his father's anxiety on his account would now be redoubled. In keeping him informed of all his exertions and successes he satisfied his own longing to confide in his father, and gave the latter just that kind of interest and occupation of the mind which would serve to dispel his grief. It is touching to see the pains he takes to keep his father informed of all that he thinks will interest him, and how a certain irritability which had occasionally, and under the circumstances excusably, betrayed itself in his former letters, now completely disappears before the expression of tender affection: even the handwriting, which had been blamed as careless and untidy by his father, becomes neater and better. Trifles such as these are often the clearest expression of deep and refined feeling.

When the heavy blow fell, Wolfgang was alone, his Mannheim friends having left Paris; his father might well be apprehensive lest he should neglect the proper care of himself and his affairs. But Grimm now came forward; he, or more properly, as Mozart declares, his friend Madame D'Epinay, offered him an asylum in their house,[ 23 ] and a place at their table, and he willingly agreed, as soon as he was convinced that he should cause neither appreciable expense nor inconvenience. He soon found himself obliged occasionally to borrow small sums of Grimm, which gradually mounted MOZART AS GRIMM'S GUEST. "piecemeal" to fifteen louis-d'or; Grimm reassures the father by telling him that repayment may be indefinitely postponed. But Wolfgang soon found the way of life in Grimm's household not at all to his mind, and wrote of it as "stupid and dull." And, indeed, a greater contrast cannot well be imagined than when, from the house whence issued with scrupulous devotion bulletins of Voltaire's health, contradictory reports of his religious condition, and finally the announcement of his death (May 30, 1778), Wolfgang should write to his father (July 3, 1778): "I will tell you a piece of news, which perhaps you know already; that godless fellow and arch-scoundrel Voltaire is dead, like a dog, like a brute beast—that is his reward!" The condescending patronage with which he was treated soon became intolerable to him, and he complains of Grimm's way of furthering his interests in Paris as better fitted to a child than a grown man. We can well imagine that Grimm, like Mozart's own father, desired that he should make acquaintances, should gain access to distinguished families as a teacher and clavier-player, and should seek to win the favour of the fashion-leading part of the community; no doubt, too, Grimm felt it his duty to remonstrate openly with Wolfgang for what he considered his indolence and indifference. It is impossible to deny the good sense and proper appreciation of the position of all Grimm's remarks, but they were resented by Mozart on account of the tone of superiority with which they were enforced. Grimm was indeed openly opposed to Mozart, and told him frankly that he would never succeed in Paris—he was not active, and did not go about enough; and he wrote the same thing to Wolfgang's father.[ 24 ]

PARIS, 1778.

It soon became apparent that Grimm was not really of opinion that Mozart's talents were of such an order as to offer him a career in Paris; he said that he could not believe that Wolfgang would be able to write a French opera likely to succeed, and referred him for instruction to the Italians. "He is always wanting me," writes Mozart (September 11, 1778), "to follow Piccinni or Caribaldi (Vol. I., p. 77), in fact, he belongs to the foreign party—he is false—and tries to put me down in every way." He longed above all things to write an opera to show Grimm "that I can do as much as his dear Piccinni, although I am only a German." Grimm's character was not a simple one;[ 25 ] he had both won and kept for himself under adverse circumstances an influential position, which was no easy matter in Paris at any time. Queer stories were told of him,[ 26 ] and his love of truth was not implicitly relied on.[ 27 ] Rousseau describes him as perfidious and egotistical. Madame D'Epinay, on the other hand, extols him as a disinterested friend, and others speak of his benevolence and ready sympathy.[ 28 ] There is, at any rate, no reason to suspect that he meant otherwise than well by Mozart, although he did not appreciate his genius, and interested himself more for the father's sake than the son's. He had striven for years to assert the supremacy of Italian music, and his ideal was Italian opera performed in Paris by Italian singers in the Italian language. When De Vismes, who was anxious to propitiate all parties, engaged a company of Italian STUDY OF FRENCH OPERA. singers,[ 29 ] Grimm hailed the auspicious day on which Caribaldi, Baglioni, and Chiavacci appeared in Piccinni's "Finte Gemelle" (June n, 1778).[ 30 ] It is therefore quite conceivable that he renounced all interest in Mozart's artistic future as soon as he was convinced of his falling off from purely Italian notions, and it is interesting to us to have so clear an indication that even thus early in his career Mozart had set himself in opposition to the Italian school. He had long since learnt all that it had to teach, and he fully recognised the fact that it was his mission to carry on the reform set on foot by Gluck and Grétry, at the same time retaining all that was valuable in the Italian teaching.

A confirmation of this is found in a later expression of opinion made by Mozart to Joseph Frank, who found him engaged in the study of French scores, and asked him if it would not be better to devote himself to Italian compositions; whereupon Mozart answered: "As far as melody is concerned, yes; but as far as dramatic effect is concerned, no; besides, the scores which you see here are by Gluck, Piccinni, Salieri, as well as Grétry, and have nothing French but the words."[ 31 ] This view was confirmed by his stay in Paris, a stay quite as fruitful for his artistic development as that at Mannheim had been. Grimm's accounts show that Mozart had opportunities for hearing the operas of numerous French composers. Besides Gluck's "Armide" which was still new, "Orpheus," "Alceste," and "Iphigenia in Aulis," which had been revived, Piccinni's "Roland," Grètry's "Matroco," "Les Trois Ages de l'Opéra," and "Le Jugement de Midas" were given, as well as Philidor's "Ernelinde," Dezaide's "Zulima," Gossec's "Fête du Village," Rousseau's "Devin du Village." Added to these were Piccinni's Italian opera "Le Finte Gemelle," and doubtless many others of which we know nothing. It may well excite wonder that Mozart's letters to his father describe PARIS, 1778. none of the new artistic impressions which he must have received in Paris. But, apart from the fact that personal affairs naturally held the first place in his home correspondence, it must be remembered that abstract reflections on art and its relation to individual artists were not at that time the fashion, and were besides quite foreign to Mozart's nature. His aesthetic remarks and judgments whether they treated of technical questions or of executive effects, are mostly founded on concrete phenomena. The practical directness of his productive power, set in motion by every impulse of his artistic nature, prevented his fathoming the latest psychical conditions of artistic activity, or tracing the delicate threads which connect the inner consciousness of the artist with his external impressions, or analysing the secret processes of the soul which precede the production of a work of art. He does not seem any more actively conscious of the effect wrought upon him by the works of others. Some men's impressions of a great work are involuntary, and they seek later to comprehend the grounds of their enjoyment; others strive consciously to grasp the idea of the work and to incorporate it into their being; but to the man of creative genius alone is it given to preserve his own totality while absorbing all that is good in the works of other artists.

Without ever losing his own individuality, an artist of true genius absorbs impressions from nature and from other works of art than his own, and constructs them anew from his inner consciousness. He accepts and assimilates whatever is calculated to nourish his formative power, and rejects with intuitive right judgment all that is foreign to his nature. Just as in the production of a true work of art invention and labour, inspiration and execution, willing and doing, are inseparably interwoven, so in the consideration by a genius of the works of other men and other ages, delighted appreciation is combined with criticism, ready apprehension collects materials for original work in its truest sense; it is a natural process, which perfects itself in the mind of the artist without any conscious action on his part.

Therefore the judgment that one artist pronounces on RESULT. OF STAY IN PARIS. another is not always in perfect accord with the influence which has been brought to bear on himself by that other. The deeper the influence penetrates into the roots of an artist's inner being, the more will it become part and parcel of his productive powers, and the consciousness of any outside influence will be rapidly lost. It remains for future historical inquirers to ascertain and define the influence of the intellectual current of the age on the individual, and the mutual action on each other of exceptional phenomena.

Small as the visible results of Mozart's stay in Paris might be, and far as he remained from the object with which he had undertaken the journey, it yet enabled him, with great gain to his progress as an artist, to free himself from the Italian school, after such a thorough study of its principles as convinced him of the value of the element of dramatic construction which lay concealed in it. It may indeed be considered as a fortunate circumstance that no sooner had this conviction taken root in him than he turned his back on party disputes and left the place which was of all others the least fitted to encourage the quiet steady progress of genius.

L. Mozart had other and very different reasons for wishing to shorten Wolfgang's stay in Paris as much as he had hitherto desired to prolong it. With his wife's death he had lost the assurance that Wolfgang's life in Paris would be of no detriment to his moral nature. Indulgent as she had been to her son, in this respect her influence was unbounded; and now it might be feared that Wolfgang's easy-going nature would lead him into bad company. Grimm's account convinced him that Wolfgang had no prospects of success in Paris, the less so as he took no pains to conceal his dislike of the place. His dearest wish at this time was to be appointed Kapellmeister to the Elector of Bavaria; he hoped thus to be able to improve the position of the Weber family, and to claim Aloysia as his own. The project was not disapproved of by his father (who, however, was told nothing of the last item); on the contrary, he wrote to Padre Martini describing the state of affairs, and earnestly PARIS, 1778. requesting him directly and through Raaff to gain the Elector for Wolfgang; this the Padre readily undertook. As for Raaff, his friendship for Mozart and the interest which he took in Aloysia Weber were incentives enough for exertion, and Mozart had other influential friends among the musicians, besides being able to count on the support of Count Sickingen.

In Munich especially, where there was no German operatic composer of merit—Holzbauer being too old to have much influence—the need of a kapellmeister and composer was strongly felt; but the circumstances were very unfavourable. After it had been finally decided that the court should be removed from Mannheim to Munich, and all had been prepared for the move, threatenings of war threw everything into confusion again. Wolfgang felt this a heavy blow to the interests of the Webers, concerning whom he writes to his father (July 31, 1778):—

The day before yesterday my dear friend Weber wrote to me, among other things, that the day after the Elector's arrival it was announced that he intended to take up his residence at Munich. This news came like a thunderbolt to Mannheim, and the joy which had been testified by the illuminations of the day before was suddenly extinguished (p. 404). The court musicians were all informed that they were at liberty to follow the court to Munich, or to remain in Mannheim with their present salary; each one was to send in his written and sealed decision to the Intendant within fourteen days. Weber, whose miserable circumstances you know, wrote as follows: "My decayed circumstances put it out of my power to follow my gracious master to Munich, however earnestly I may wish to do so." Before this happened there was a grand concert at court, and poor Mdlle. Weber felt her enemies' malice; she was not invited to sing—no one knows why. Immediately afterwards was a concert at Herr von Gemmingen's, and Count Seeau was present. She sang two of my songs, and was fortunate enough to please, in spite of the wretched foreigners (the Munich singers). She is much injured by these infamous slanderers, who say that her singing is deteriorating. But Cannabich, when the songs were over, said to her, "Mademoiselle, I hope that you will go on deteriorating after this fashion! I will write to Herr Mozart to-morrow, and acquaint him with your success." As the matter now stands, if war had not broken out, the court would have removed to Munich; Count Seeau, who positively will have Mdlle. Weber, had arranged everything so as to take her, and there was hope that the circumstances of the whole family would improve in PROSPECTS IN SALZBURG. consequence. But now the Munich journey is no more talked of, and the unfortunate Webers may have to wait here long enough, their debts growing heavier day by day. If I could only help them! My dear father, I recommend them to you with my whole heart. If they had only 1,000 florins a year to depend upon!

Thereupon his father reminds him that his anxiety about the Webers is unbecoming, as long as he does not bestow the same care on himself and his own family (August 27, 1778). Besides there was no prospect for him in Munich at present, and his father therefore wished him to remain in Paris, at all events until the matter was decided.[ 32 ]

In the midst of this uncertainty a favourable prospect opened in Salzburg itself. Since Adlgasser's death it had become more and more evident at court that Wolfgang's recall would be of all things most advantageous; it was signified to L. Mozart through Bullinger that, as he doubtless wished to retain his son near him, the court would be prepared to give him a monthly salary of fifty florins as organist and concertmeister, and he might look forward with certainty to being made kapellmeister; but the Archbishop could not make the first advances. Bullinger duly performed his mission, but L. Mozart, who well knew the perplexity the Archbishop was in, required that the proposition should be made direct to him. So, therefore, it was obliged to be; and the diplomatic skill, "worthy of a Ulysses" as Wolfgang says, with which L. Mozart contrived to hold his ground and to avail himself of his strong position in an interview with the canon, Count Joseph Stahremberg, is minutely described by himself (June 29, 1778):—

When I arrived no one was there but his brother the major, who is staying with him to recover from the fright into which he has been thrown by Prussian powder and shot. He told me that an organist had been recommended to him, but he would not accept him without being sure that he was good. He wished to know if I was acquainted with him—Mandl, or some such name, he did not remember what. "Oh, you stupid fellow!" thought I; "is it likely that an order or a request should be received from Vienna with reference to a candidate whose PARIS, 1778. name is not even mentioned." As if I could not guess that all this was by way of inducing me to mention my son! But not I! no, not a syllable. I said I had not the honour of knowing any such person, and that I would never venture to recommend any one to our prince, since it would be difficult to find any one who would altogether suit him. "Yes," said he, "I cannot recommend him any one; it is far too difficult! Your son should be here now!" "Bravo! the bait has taken," thought I; "what a pity that this man is not a minister of state or an ambassador!" Then I said, "We will speak plainly. Is it not the case that all possible measures were taken to drive my son out of Salzburg?" I began at the beginning and enumerated every past circumstance, so that his brother was quite astonished, but he himself could not deny the truth of a single point, and at length told his brother that young Mozart had been the wonder of all who came to Salzburg. He wanted to persuade me to write to my son; but I said that I would not do so—it would be labour in vain, for that unless I could tell him what income he might expect, my son would laugh at the proposition; Adlgasser's salary would be totally insufficient. Indeed, even if his Grace the Archbishop were to offer him fifty florins a-month, it would be doubtful whether he would accept it. We all three left the house together, for they were going to the riding-school, and I accompanied them. We spoke on the subject all the way, and I held to what I had said; he held to my son as the only candidate for him. The fact is, that the Archbishop can hear of no other good organist who is also a good clavier-player; he says now (but only to his favourites) that Beecké was a charlatan and a buffoon, and that Mozart excels all others; he would rather have him whom he knows than some one else highly paid whom he does not know. He cannot promise any one (as he would have to do if he gave a smaller salary) an income by pupils, since there are but few, and those are mine, I having the name of giving as good lessons as any man. Here then is the affair in full swing. I do not write, my dear Wolfgang, with the intention of inducing you to return to Salzburg, for I place no reliance on the words of the Archbishop, and I have not yet spoken to his sister the Countess;[ 33 ] I rather avoided the opportunity of meeting her; for she would take the least word as consent and petition. They must come to me, and if anything is to be done, I must have a clear and advantageous proposal made, which can hardly be expected. We must wait, and hold fast to our point.

Wolfgang, who disliked Salzburg more even than Paris, at first took no notice of all this. But the death of the old kapellmeister Lolli, coinciding with that of his mother, brought MOZART'S DISLIKE OF SALZBURG. matters in Salzburg to a crisis, and under the circumstances L. Mozart was more than ever convinced that Wolfgang should have a good position there. Good old Bullinger was again employed as a mediator to reconcile Wolfgang to the idea. He wrote to his young friend that he would be wronging his family by refusing so advantageous a position as that now offered to him, and that life might be endurable even in so small a place as Salzburg. He mentioned casually that the Archbishop intended engaging a new singer, and hints that his choice might be turned towards Aloysia Weber. Thereupon Wolfgang wrote candidly to Bullinger (August 7, 1778):—

You know how hateful Salzburg is to me!—not alone on account of the unjust treatment received there by both my father and myself—though that in itself is enough to make one wish to wipe the place clean out of one's memory. But even supposing that things turned out so that we could live well—living well and living happily are two things, and the latter I should never be able to do without the aid of magic—it would be against the natural order of things! It would be the greatest pleasure to me to embrace my dear father and sister, and the sooner the better; but I cannot deny that my joy would be doubled if the reunion took place anywhere but in Salzburg. I should have far more hope of living happily and contentedly.

He goes on to explain that it is not because Salzburg is small that he dreads returning to it, but because it offers no field for his talent, music being but little esteemed there; he remarks with bitter satire how the Archbishop pretends to seek with much parade for a kapellmeister and a prima donna, and in reality does nothing.

Soon after his father gives him further information as to the position of affairs (August 27, 1778):—

I have written to you already that your recall here is desired, and they beat about the bush with me for a long time without getting me to commit myself; until at last, after Lolli's death, I was obliged to tell the Countess that I had addressed a petition to the Archbishop, which, however, simply appealed to his favour by drawing attention to my long and uncomplaining services. The conversation then turned upon you, and I expressed myself as frankly upon all necessary points as I had previously done to Count Stahremberg. At last she asked me whether you would come if the Archbishop were to give me Lolli's post, and you Adlgasser's, which, as I had already calculated, would bring us in PARIS, 1778. together one thousand florins a year; I could do nothing else but answer that I had no doubt that if this happened you would consent for love of me, especially as the Countess declared that there was not the least doubt that the Archbishop would allow you to travel in Italy every second year, since he himself had said how important it was to hear something new from time to time, and that he would furnish you with good letters of introduction. If this were to happen, we might reckon securely on one hundred and fifteen florins a month; and, as things now are, on more than one hundred and twenty florins. We should be better off than in any other place where living is twice as dear, and, not having to look so closely after money, we should be able to think more of amusement. But I am far from thinking the affair a certainty, for I know how hard such a decision will be to the Archbishop. You have the entire goodwill and sympathy of the Countess, that is certain; and it is equally certain that old Arco, Count Stahremberg, and the Bishop of Konigsgratz, are all anxious to bring the matter to a conclusion.

But there are reasons, as is always the case; and, as I have always told you, the Countess and old Arco are afraid of my leaving also. They have no one to succeed me as a clavier-teacher: I have the name of teaching well—and, indeed, the proofs are there. They know of no one; and, should a teacher come from Vienna, is it likely that he would give lessons for four florins or a ducat the dozen, when anywhere else he would have two or three ducats? This sets them all in perplexity. But, as I have said before, I do not reckon on it, because I know the Archbishop. It may be true that he sincerely wishes to secure you; but he cannot make up his mind, especially when it concerns giving.

Probably Wolfgang counted on this fact, and refrained on that account from treating the matter seriously. Just at this time his discomfort in Paris was lightened by a pleasant event. His old London friend Bach, (Vol. I., p. 39), had been invited to write an opera ("Amadis") for Paris. "The French are asses, and always will be," remarks Wolfgang thereupon (July 9, 1778); "they can do nothing themselves, but are obliged to have recourse to foreigners. Bach came to Paris to make the necessary arrangements, and Wolfgang wrote (August 27, 1778):—

Herr Bach has been in Paris for the last fortnight. He is going to write a French opera. He has come to hear the singers; then he goes back to London, writes the opera, and returns to put it on the stage.[ 34 ] You may imagine his joy and mine at our meeting. Perhaps mine is SUMMONS TO SALZBURG. more sincere, but it must be acknowledged that he is an honest man, and does people justice. I love him, as you know, from my heart, and have a high esteem for him. As for him, he does not flatter or exaggerate as some do, but both to myself and others he praises me seriously and sincerely.

Bach had introduced Wolfgang to the Marshal de Noailles,[ 35 ] and the latter had invited them both, as well as Bach's "bosom friend" Tenducci (Vol. I., p. 41), to St. Germain. There they spent some pleasant days together, and it need hardly be said that Mozart composed a scena for Tenducci, with pianoforte, oboe, horn, and bassoon accompaniment, the instruments being taken by dependents of the Marshal, chiefly Germans, who played well.[ 36 ]

Meanwhile the time for decision drew near. The Salzburg authorities had made a definite proposal to L. Mozart, as he had wished, and he wrote to his son in a way which hardly left him a choice (August 31, 1778):—

You do not like Paris, and I scarcely think you are wrong. My heart and mind have been troubled for you until now, and I have been obliged to play a very ticklish part, concealing my anxiety under the semblance of light-heartedness, in order to give the impression that you were in the best of circumstances and had money in abundance, although I well knew to the contrary. I was very doubtful of gaining my point because, as you know, the step we took and your hasty resignation left us little to hope from our haughty Archbishop. But my clever management has carried me through, and the Archbishop has agreed to all my terms, both for you and myself. You are to have five hundred florins, and he expressed regret at not being able to make you kapellmeister at once. You are to be allowed to act as my deputy when the work is beyond me, or I am unfit to do it. He said he had always intended to give you a better post, &c.; in fact, to my amazement, he made the politest apologies. More than that! he has given five florins additional to Paris,[ 37 ] so that he may take the heaviest duties, and enable you to act as concertmeister again. So that PARIS, 1778. we shall get altogether, as I told you before, an income of one thousand florins. Now I should like to know whether you think my head is worth anything, and whether or not I have done my best for you. I have thought of everything. The Archbishop has declared himself prepared to let you travel where you will, if you want to write an opera. He apologised for his refusal last year by saying that he could not bear his subjects to go about begging. Now Salzburg is a middle point between Munich, Vienna, and Italy. It will be easier to get a commission for an opera in Munich than to get an official post, for German composers are scarce. The Elector's death has put a stop to all appointments, and war is breaking out again. The Duke of

Zweibrücken[ 38 ] is no great lover of music. But I would rather you did not leave Paris until I have the signed agreement in my hand. The Prince and the whole court are wonderfully taken with Mdlle. Weber, and are absolutely determined to hear her. She must stay with us. Her father seems to me to have no head. I will manage the affair for them if they choose to follow my advice. You must speak the word for her here, for there is another singer wanted for operatic performances.

He was now so sure of the affair that he concluded his letter with the words, "My next letter will tell you when to set off."

L. Mozart was not mistaken in his son; however great the sacrifice it entailed upon him, he prepared to yield to the will of his father. "When I read your letter," he answered (September 11, 1778), "I trembled with joy, for I felt myself already in your embrace. It is true, as you will acknowledge, that it is not much of a prospect for me; but when I look forward to seeing you, and embracing my dearest sister, I think of no other prospect." He did not conceal from his father his repugnance to the idea of a residence at Salzburg, on account of the want of congenial society, the unmusical tone of the place, and the little confidence placed by the Archbishop in sensible and cultivated people. His consolation was the permission to travel, without which he would hardly have made up his mind to come. "A man of mediocre talent remains mediocre whether he travels or not; but a man of superior talent (which I cannot without hypocrisy deny myself to be) becomes bad if he always remains in the same place." The possibility that Aloysia Weber might come to Salzburg ENCOURAGEMENT FROM L. MOZART. filled him with joy; for, indeed, if the Archbishop really wanted a prima donna, he could not have a better one. He is already troubled by the thought "that if people come from Salzburg for the Carnival, and 'Rosamund' is played, poor Mdlle. Weber will perhaps not please, or at least will not be judged of as she deserves, for she has a wretched part—almost a persona muta—to sing a few bars between the choruses" (Vol. I., p. 403). "When I am in Salzburg," he continues, "I shall certainly not fail to intercede with all zeal for my dear friend; and in the meantime I earnestly hope you will do your best for her—you cannot give your son any greater pleasure." He begs for permission to take Mannheim on his way home, in order to visit the Webers.

L. Mozart, knowing how deep and well-founded an antipathy Wolfgang had for Salzburg, sought to convince him that he would find himself in a much better position there now than formerly. "Our assured income," he wrote (September 3, 1778), "is what I have written to you, and your mode of life will not come in the way of your studies and any other work. You are not to play the violin at court, but you have full power of direction at the clavier." This was an important point to Wolfgang, and his father recurs to it again (September 24, 1778):—

Formerly you were really nothing but a violinist, and that only as concertmeister; now you are concertmeister and court organist, and your chief duty is to accompany at the clavier. You will not think it any disgrace to play the violin as an amateur in the first symphony, since you will do it in company with the Archbishop himself, and all the court nobility. Herr Haydn is a man whose musical merit you will readily acknowledge—should you stigmatise him as a "court fiddler" because, in his capacity as concertmeister, he plays the viola in the smaller concerts? It is all by way of amusement; and I would lay a wager that, rather than hear your compositions bungled, you would set to yourself with a will."

He consoles him also by reminding him that the concerts at court are short, from seven o'clock to a quarter past eight, and that seldom more than four pieces are performed—a symphony, an aria, a symphony or concerto, and another aria (September 17, 1778). Since the PARIS, 1778. payment of their debts did not press, they could pay off annually a few hundred gulden, and live easily and comfortably. "You will find amusement enough here; for when one has not to look at every kreutzer, it makes many things possible. We can go to all the balls at the Town-Hall during the Carnival. The Munich theatrical company are to come at the end of September, and to remain here the whole winter with comedies and operettas. Then there is our quoit-playing every Sunday, and if we choose to go into society it will come to us; everything is altered when one has a better income." But the father knew that the point on which Wolfgang would be most open to persuasion was not the prospect of Salzburg gaieties, but that of a union with his beloved Mdlle. Weber; and he goes on to speak on this subject too. Not only does he say, "You will soon be asked about Mdlle. Weber when you are here; I have praised her continually, and I will do all I can to gain her a hearing," but he continues: "As to Mdlle. Weber, you must not imagine that I disapprove of the acquaintance. All young people must make fools of themselves. You are welcome to continue your correspondence without interference from me. Nay, more! I will give you a piece of advice. Every one knows you here. You had better address your letters to Mdlle. Weber under cover to some one else, and receive them in the same way, unless you think my prudence a sufficient safeguard."

The paternal permission to make a fool of himself was calculated to hurt the lover's tenderest feelings, and he does not disguise that this is the case in narrating a proof of the genuine attachment of the Webers for him. "The poor things," he writes (October 15, 1778), "were all in great anxiety on my account. They thought I was dead, not having heard from me for a whole month, owing to the loss of a letter; they were confirmed in their opinion because of a report in Mannheim that my dear mother had died of an infectious illness. They all prayed for my soul, and the dear girl went every day to the church of the Capucins. You will laugh, no doubt? but not I; it touches me; I cannot help it." About the same time he received the news ALOYSIA WEBER AT MUNICH. that Aloysia had obtained an operatic engagement at Munich with a good salary,[ 39 ] and he expresses the mingled feelings with which he heard it simply and truly:—

I am as pleased at Mdlle. Weber's, or rather at my dear Aloysia's appointment as any one who has taken such a warm interest in her affairs was sure to be; but I can no longer expect the fulfilment of my earnest wish that she should settle in Salzburg, for the Archbishop would never give her what she is to have in Munich. All I can hope for is that she will sometimes come to Salzburg to sing in operas.

This turn in affairs must have strengthened Mozart's secret wish to obtain an appointment under the Elector of Bavaria, and his determination to do all he could towards this end on his journey through Mannheim and Munich, and to "turn a cold shoulder" on the Archbishop. His father had nothing to oppose to such a project except the uncertainty of its prospects; he sought, therefore, to convince Wolfgang that his only right course now was to accept the certainty offered to him, and to keep Munich in view for a future time. He gave him definite instructions on the point (September 3, 1778):—

Since the Electoral Court is expected in Munich on September 15, you can speak yourself to your friend Count Seeau, and perhaps to the Elector himself on your journey through. You can say that your father wishes you to return to Salzburg, and that the Prince has offered you a salary of seven or eight hundred florins (add on two or three hundred) as concertmeister; that you have accepted it from filial duty to your father, although you know he has always wished to see you in the electoral service. But, N.B., no more than this! You may want to write an opera in Munich, and you can do so best from here; it cannot fail to be so, for German operatic composers are very scarce. Schweitzer and Holzbauer will not write every year; and should Michl write one, he will soon be out-Michled. Should there be those who throw doubts and difficulties in the way, you have friends in the profession who will stand up for you; and this court will also bring out something during the year. In short you will be at hand.

It was now quite necessary that Wolfgang should leave Paris; and in anticipating what he had to expect in Salzburg, he began to feel what he was leaving in Paris. He PARIS, 1778. was angry with Grimm, who desired that he should be ready for his journey in a week, which was impossible, since he had still claims on the Duc de Guines and on Le Gros, and must wait to correct the proofs of his sonatas, and to sell the compositions he had with him.[ 40 ] He had no small desire to write six more trios, for which he might expect good payment. Grimm's evident wish that he should go, and his offer to pay the journey to Strasburg (which seemed to the father a proof of friendship) was considered by Wolfgang as distrust and insincerity. Grimm no doubt wished to be relieved of the responsibility he had undertaken as soon as possible, and may have offended his protégé by too open an expression of his desire; but there is no doubt that he acted according to the mind of the father, and in the sincere opinion that the unpractical and vacillating young man required decided treatment. But Wolfgang was so firmly convinced that his departure from Paris was premature, that he wrote to his father from Strasburg (October 15, 1778), that it was the greatest folly in the world to go to Salzburg now, and only his love to his father had induced him to set aside the representations of his friends. He had been praised for this, but with the remark that—

If my father had known my present good circumstances and prospects, and had not believed the reports of certain false friends, he would not have written to me in a way that I could not withstand. And I think myself that if I had not been so annoyed in the house where I was staying, and if the whole thing had not come upon me like a thunderbolt, so that there was no time to consider it in cool blood, I should certainly have begged you to have a little more patience, and to leave me in Paris; I assure you I should have gained both money and fame, and been able to extricate you from all your embarrassments. But it STRASBURG, 1778. is done now. Do not imagine that I repent the step, for only you, my dear father, only you can sweeten for me the bitterness of Salzburg, and we shall do it—I know we shall; but I must frankly own that I should come to Salzburg with a lighter heart if I did not know that I was to be in the service of the court. The idea is intolerable to me.

In the meantime business was wound up, the mother's property and the heavy baggage was sent direct to Salzburg; and on September 26 Wolfgang left Paris, having gained much experience but little satisfaction, as depressed and out of humour as he had entered it.

CHAPTER XX. THE RETURN HOME.

WOLFGANG'S father expected that he would perform his homeward journey without any unnecessary delay, and his anxiety became serious when day after day passed and he received no tidings of his son's approach to Strasburg.

"I confessed and communicated together with your sister," he writes (October 19, 1778), "and earnestly prayed for your preservation; good old Bullinger prayed for you daily in the holy mass." The fact was, that instead of providing Mozart with means to travel by the diligence, which accomplished the journey to Strasburg in a week, Grimm had satisfied himself with an ordinary conveyance, which occupied twelve days on the road. Mozart's patience was tired out in a week, and he halted at Nancy. Here he met with a German merchant, the best man in the world, who at once conceived a paternal attachment for him, and wept at the idea of their parting. With this new friend Wolfgang, determined to travel to Strasburg as soon as an opportunity of doing so cheaply should occur. They were obliged to wait a considerable time, and it was the middle of October before they reached Strasburg:—

Things are not promising here; but the day after to-morrow (Saturday, October 17) I intend, quite alone (to avoid expense), to give a subscription concert to certain friends and connoisseurs; if I had engaged any other instruments it would, with the lighting, have cost me more than three louis-d'or; and who knows if it will bring in so much?

It was a shrewd guess, THE RETURN HOME. for his next letter had to announce three louis-d'or as the exact sum made by this "little model of a concert":—

But the principal receipts were in "bravos" and "bravissimos," which resounded from all sides. Prince Max of Zweibrücken, too, honoured the concert with his presence. I need scarcely say that every one was pleased. I should have left Strasburg immediately after this, but I was advised to stay until the following Saturday, and give a grand concert in the theatre. At this I made the identical same sum, to the amazement and indignation and shame of all Strasburg. I must say, however, that my ears ached as much from the applauding and hand-clapping as if the theatre had been crammed full. Every one present openly and loudly denounced the conduct of their fellow-townsmen; and I told them all that if I could have imagined that I should have so small an audience, I would gladly have given the concert gratis, for the pleasure of seeing the theatre full. Indeed, I should have preferred it; for nothing can be more dismal than to lay a table for eighty guests and receive only three—and then it was so cold! But I soon grew warm; and in order to show my gentlemen of Strasburg that I was not put out, I played a great deal for my own entertainment; I gave them a concerto more than I had promised, and improvised for a long time at the end. Well, it is over and done with, and at least I have gained the reputation and honour.

Besides the concerts, he played publicly on the two best of Silbermann's organs in the Neue Kirche and the Thomas Kirche, and the roads being flooded and his departure for the present impossible, he resolved to give another concert on his fête-day, October 31. This he did at the solicitation and for the gratification of his friends Frank, De Beyer, &c., and the result was—one louis-d'or. No wonder that he was obliged to raise money in order to continue his journey, a fact which he remembered years after with indignation.

By the advice of friends who had made the journey he continued his way by diligence via Mannheim; the better roads and more comfortable carriage amply compensating for the détour. At Mannheim he alighted on November 6, and was welcomed with acclamations by his friends. The journey viä Mannheim seemed to Leopold Mozart a most senseless proceeding on Wolfgang's part; the Weber family and all his best friends had migrated to Munich, and there was nothing to be gained by the visit.

MANNHEIM, 1778.

He stayed with Madame Cannabich, who had not yet left, and who was never tired of hearing about himself; all his acquaintance tore him in pieces, for "as I love Mannheim, so Mannheim loves me." The old associations woke in him the old hopes and wishes. The Mannheim people were anxious to believe that the Elector could not stand the coarse manners of the Bavarians, and would soon be tired of Munich. It was reported that Madame Toscani and Madame Urban had been so hissed that the Elector had leant over his box and cried "Hush!" As this had no effect, Count Seeau had begged some officers not to make so much noise, since it displeased the Elector; but they answered, that they had paid for their admission to the theatre, and no one had any right to give them orders there. Every one was convinced that the Elector would soon bring the court back to Mannheim, and Wolfgang was only too ready to believe the assurances of his friends that when this took place, a fixed appointment would certainly be offered to him. Between Mannheim and Salzburg—what a difference! "The Archbishop," he wrote to his father (November 12, 1778), "cannot give me an equivalent for the slavery in Salzburg. I should feel nothing but delight were I only going to pay you a visit: but the idea of settling myself for good within that beggarly court is pain and grief to me." At Mannheim there were already prospects of immediate employment, besides—and what did he want more?—the opportunity for dramatic composition. Amid the universal desolation which was spread over Mannheim by the removal of the electoral court to Munich, patriotic men were not wanting who strove to resuscitate the intellectual and material prosperity of the town. Heribert von Dalberg failed indeed in his project for removing Heidelberg University to Mannheim, but he gained the express support of the Elector to the establishment of a theatre for carrying out the idea of an established national drama (Vol. I., p. 369).[ 1 ] Dalberg undertook the management with zeal and THE RETURN HOME. intelligence, and both the choice of pieces and the manner of representation were considered entirely from an artistic point of view.

The Mannheim theatre first attained its peculiar importance and celebrity in the autumn of 1779, when the principal members of the Gotha Court company, with Iffland among them, were engaged at Mannheim.[ 2 ] When Mozart was on his way back from Paris, Seyler was there with his company, which was only available for operetta and vaudeville. But higher notions were in the air; the idea of a German national opera had never been abandoned, and to enlist in its service such a composer as Mozart was a prospect not to be despised. How ready he was for the service we know. He had not been in Mannheim a week when he wrote, full of enthusiasm, to his father (November 12, 1778):—

I have a chance of earning forty louis-d'or here! I should be obliged to stay six weeks or, at the longest, two months. The Seyler troupe are here; no doubt you know them by reputation. Herr Dalberg is manager, and refuses to let me go until I have composed a duodrama for him. I have made no objection, for I have always wished to write a drama of this kind. I do not remember if I told you anything about these duodramas when I was here before. I have been present at the performance of one of them twice with the greatest pleasure. In fact, I never was more surprised! for I had always imagined such a piece would have no effect. You know that the performers do not sing, but declaim, and the music is like an obbligato recitative. Sometimes speaking is interposed with first-rate effect. What I saw was "Medea," by Benda. He wrote another, "Ariadne on Naxos," both excellent. You know that Benda was always my favourite among the Lutheran kapellmeisters. I like these two works so much that I carry them about with me. Now you may imagine my joy at having to do just what I wished. Do you know what I should like? To have recitatives of this kind in opera, and only sometimes, when the words are readily expressible in music, to have them sung.

The duodrama which he was thus burning to compose was "Semiramis," and the poet was his friend and patron, Herr von Gemmingen (Vol. I., p. 429). It was he probably who wished Mozart to remain to compose "Semiramis," for Dalberg A MONODRAMA OR AN OPERA. had other views for him. He had written an opera ("Cora")[ 3 ] which he much wished to have composed. He had already applied to Gluck and to Schweitzer,[ 4 ] but not feeling sure of either of them, he now sought to secure Mozart. The latter wrote to him (Mannheim, November 24, 1778):—

Monsieur le Baron,—I have already waited upon you twice without having had the honour of finding you at liberty; yesterday I believe you were at home, but I was not able to speak with you. I must therefore ask you to pardon me for troubling you with a few lines, for it is very important to me that I should explain myself fully to you. Monsieur le Baron, you know that I am not mercenary, especially when I am in a position to be of service to so great a lover and so true a connoisseur of music as yourself. On the other hand, I feel certain that you would not desire that I should be in any way injured by the transaction; I am therefore bold enough to make my final proposition on the matter, since I cannot possibly remain longer in uncertainty. I undertake, for twenty-five louis-d'or, to write a monodrama, to remain here two months longer, to arrange everything, attend the rehearsals, &c.; but with this proviso, that, let what will happen, I shall be paid by the end of January. That I shall be free of the theatre is a matter of course.[ 5 ] This, Monsieur le Baron, is the utmost I can offer; if you consider it, I think you will see that I am acting very moderately. As far as your opera is concerned, I assure you that I should like above all things to set it to music. That I could not undertake such a work as that for twenty-five louis-d'or, you will readily allow; for it would contain at the most moderate computation quite as much work again as a monodrama; the only thing that would make me hesitate to undertake it is that, as you tell me, Gluck and Schweitzer are already writing it. But even supposing that you offered me fifty louis-d'or for it, I would as an honest man dissuade you from it. What is to become of an opera without singers, either male or female? At the same time, if there were any prospect of its being well produced I would not refuse to undertake the work from regard for you; and it would be no trifle, I give you my word of honour. Now I have told you my ideas clearly and straightforwardly, and I must beg for a speedy decision. If I could have an answer to-day I should be all the better pleased, for I have heard that some one is going to travel alone to Munich next Thursday, and I would gladly profit by the opportunity.

THE RETURN HOME.

Mozart would hardly have left Mannheim as long as a glimmer of hope remained—he, who was so overjoyed at finding employment there that he wrote to his father (November 12, 1778): "They are arranging an Académie des Amateurs here, like the one in Paris. Herr Franzl is to lead the violins, and I am writing them a concerto for clavier and violin."[ 6 ] But his father, who was very dissatisfied with the "foolish fancy" for remaining in Mannheim, came to the point, and represented to him (November 19, 1778) how impossible it would be for the Elector to return to Mannheim. It was especially undesirable now to seek a post in the Bavarian service, since the death of Karl Theodor had "let loose on the world a whole army of artists, who are in Mannheim and Munich seeking a mode of livelihood. The Duke of Zweibrücken himself had an orchestra of thirty-six performers, and the former Mannheim establishment cost 80,000 florins." He cares nothing for the "possible earning of 40 louis-d'or," but emphatically orders: "Set off as soon as you receive this!" And to meet any conceivable remonstrance, he once more sets plainly forth the true position of affairs (November 23, 1778):—

There are two things of which your head is full and which obscure your true judgment. The first and principal is your love for Mdlle. Weber, to which I am not altogether opposed. I was not formerly, when her father was poor, and why should I be so now when she may make your fortune instead of you hers? I conjecture that her father is aware of your love, since all Mannheim knows it, since Herr Fiala (oboist in Salzburg) has heard it, since Herr Bullinger, who teaches at Count Lodron's, told me of it. He travelled with some Mannheim musicians from Ellwang (where he was in the vacation), and they could talk of nothing but your cleverness, compositions, and love for Mdlle. Weber.

In Salzburg, the father goes on, he would be so near Munich that he could easily go there, or Mdlle. Weber could come to Salzburg, where she might stay with them. Opportunities would not be wanting. Fiala had told the Archbishop a great deal about Mdlle. Weber's singing and MOZART LEAVES MANNHEIM, 1778. Wolfgang's good prospects in Mannheim. He might also invite his other friends—Cannabich, Wendling, Ritter, Ramm. They would all find hospitable welcome in his father's house

Most especially will your acceptance of the present office (which is the second subject of which your head is full) be your only certain opportunity for revisiting Italy, which is what I have more at heart than anything else. And your acceptance is indispensably necessary, unless you have the abominable and unfilial desire to bring scorn and derision on your anxious father—on that father who has sacrificed every hour of his life to his children to bring them credit and honour. I am not in a position to pay my debts, which now amount in all to one thousand florins, unless you lighten the payment by the receipt of your salary. I can then certainly pay off four hundred florins a year, and live comfortably with you two. I should like, if it is the will of God, to live a few years more, and to pay my debts, and then you may, if you choose, run your head against the wall at once. But no! your heart is good. You are not wicked, only thoughtless—it will all come!

This was not to be withstood. Wolfgang wrote that he would set off on December 9, but he still declined to travel the shortest way (December 3, 1778): "I must tell you what a good opportunity I have for a travelling companion next Wednesday—no other than the Bishop of Kaysersheim. One of my friends mentioned me to him; he remembered my name, and expressed great pleasure at the idea of travelling with me; he is a thoroughly kind, good man, although he is a priest and a prelate. So that I shall go viä Kaysersheim, instead of Stuttgart."

The farewell to Mannheim was a sad one, both to Mozart and his friends. Madame Cannabich, who had earned the right to be considered as his best and truest friend, and who placed implicit confidence in him, was specially sorrowful; she refused to rise for his early departure, feeling unequal to the leave-taking, and he crept silently away that he might not add to her distress.

He was loth to give up his monodrama: "I am now writing," he says (December 3, 1778), "to please Herr von Gemmingen and myself, the first act of the declamatory opera which I was to have finished here; as it is, I shall THE RETURN HOME. take it with me, and go on with it at home; my eagerness for this kind of composition is uncontrollable."[ 7 ]

The Bishop took such an "extraordinary liking" for him that he was persuaded to stay at Kaysersheim, and to make an expedition with his host to Munich, where he arrived on December 25. Here he looked forward to some pleasant days in the society of all his Mannheim friends, and above all to reunion with his beloved Aloysia. In order that nothing might be wanting to his pleasure he begged his cousin to come to Munich, and hinted that she might have an important part to play there: he had no doubt of the success of his suit. But he almost immediately after received a letter from his father, ordering him in the most positive manner to set out by the first diligence in January, and not on any account to be persuaded by Cannabich to make a further postponement. L. Mozart foresaw that Wolfgang would make another effort to escape the slavery in Salzburg, and that his friends would encourage him to hope for a place under the Court at Munich. In anticipation of this he once more laid plainly before him that the settlement in Salzburg would afford the only possibility of putting their affairs in order. This representation arrived very inopportunely for Wolfgang. Cannabich and Raaff were, in point of fact, working "hand and foot" for him. By their advice he had already undertaken to write a mass for the Elector, and the sonatas (Vol. I., p. 415; II., p. 70) which he had dedicated to the Electress had arrived just in time to be presented by him in person; and in the midst of MUNICH, 1778—BECKE. all this his father's letter dashed his hopes to the ground, and added to his gloomy anticipations of life in Salzburg the fear that he would not be kindly received. He opened his heart to their old friend the flautist Becke (Vol. I., p. 228), who moved him still further by his account of the kindness and indulgence of his father. "I have never written so badly before," he writes to his father (December 29, 1778); "I cannot do it; my heart is too much inclined for weeping. I hope you will soon write and console me."

Becke also wrote on behalf of Wolfgang:—

He burns with desire to embrace his dearest and best-beloved father, as soon as his present circumstances will allow of it; he almost makes me lose my composure, for I was an hour or more in quieting his tears. He has the best heart in the world! I have never seen a child with a more loving and tender affection for his father than your son. He has a little misgiving lest your reception of him should not be as tender as he could wish; but I hope quite otherwise from your fatherly heart. His heart is so pure, so childlike, so open to me; how much more so will it not be to his father! No one can hear him speak without doing him justice as the best-intentioned, most earnest, and most honourable of men.

L. Mozart answered at once that his son might rely on the most loving welcome, and that everything would be done to entertain him; the autumn festivities and quoit prize-meetings had been postponed on his account. But he bids him observe that his long delay, the appointment being already four months old, is beginning to make the Archbishop impatient, and it must not go so far as to cause him to draw back in his turn.

To this Wolfgang answered (January 8,1779):—

I assure you, my dear father, that I feel only pleasure in coming to you (not to Salzburg) now that I see by your last letter that you have learnt to know me better. There has been no other cause for this last postponement of my journey home than the doubt I felt (which, when I could no longer contain myself, I confided to my friend Becke) as to my reception. What other cause could there be? I know that I am not guilty of anything that should make me feel your reproaches. I have committed no fault (for I call that only a fault which is not becoming to an honourable man and a Christian). I look forward with delight to many pleasant and happy days, but only in the society of you and my dear sister. I give you my honour that I cannot endure Salzburg and its inhabitants (that is, natives of Salzburg). Their speech and their way of living are thoroughly distasteful to me.

THE RETURN HOME.

Mozart had other causes than this for despondency; before he left Munich he was destined to be painfully undeceived. He had been kindly welcomed by the Webers, who insisted on his staying with them; Aloysia had made striking progress as a vocalist, and Mozart, as might well be expected from him, rendered anew his musical homage to her by writing for her (li 8 di Gennaio, 1779) a grand aria (316 K.). He had designedly chosen as a subject the recitative and air with which Alceste first enters in Gluck's Italian opera; Schweitzer's "Alceste" had been performed in Munich, so that Mozart entered the lists with both composers. In order to provide his friends, Ramm and Ritter, with a piece of brilliant execution, he made the oboe and bassoon accompany obbligato, and emulate the voice part. The song is admirably adapted for a bravura piece, affording to the singer an opportunity for the display of varied powers and great compass, together with artistic cultivation of the voice. The recitative may be considered as an attempt at dramatic delivery of a grand and dignified kind; the song itself affords in both its parts, Andante sostenuto e cantabile, and Allegro assai, the most charming instances of sustained singing and brilliant execution. It is written for a high soprano, seldom going so low as [See Page Image] generally upwards from What is expected of the singer in the way of compass and volubility may be judged by passages such as—[See Page Image] AIR FOR ALOYSIA WEBER. in the Allegro. But the importance of this song does not depend alone on the brilliancy of its passages.

The recitative, undeniably the most important section of the composition, is second to none of Mozart's later recitatives in depth and truth of expression and noble beauty, and is richly provided with unexpected harmonic changes, such as he used more sparingly in later songs. The very first entry of the voice is striking and beautiful, with a long and pathetic prelude:—[See Page Image] THE RETURN HOME. and the close of the recitative is equally effective:—[See Page Image]

If this carefully and minutely elaborated recitative be compared with Gluck's simple secco recitative there can be no doubt that Mozart's is far superior, both in fertility of invention and marked characterisation. But it must not be left out of account that if Mozart, treating the recitative and air as one independent whole, was right to emphasise and SONG FOR ALOYSIA WEBER, 1778. elaborate details, Gluck had to consider the situation in its connection with a greater whole; in which respect his simple but expressive recitative is quite in its right place. The song itself in depth of tragic pathos is not altogether on a level with the recitative. It consists of two movements, an Andantino and an Allegro, very nearly equal in length and compass, and each of them independently arranged and elaborated. The motifs in both are simple and expressive (especially the passionate middle part of the Allegro in C minor), but in performance the attention to bravura, necessitated by the emulation of the wind instruments, detracts from the intensity and earnestness of tone. The treatment is masterly, both of the voice and the two instruments, whether considered singly or in relation to each other; it is equally so of the orchestra (quartet and horns), which forms a foundation for the free movement of the solo parts. In the hands of a first-rate performer the song could not fail to have a brilliant and striking effect. But the exclusive reference to individual talents and executive powers detracted of necessity from the dramatic effect, and if the composer had given full sway to his passions the harmony he calculated on between his work and the performer would have been lost. As far as we can judge of Aloysia Weber as a singer from the songs composed for her by Mozart, the powerful rendering of violent and fiery passion was not her forte. Her delivery cannot be said to have been wanting in depth of feeling, and yet a certain moderation seems to have been peculiar to her, which Mozart turned to account as an element of artistic harmony.[ 8 ] This song was a parting salutation to Aloysia Weber. A touching memorial of the parting is preserved in the voice part of a song ("Ah se in ciel") written by Mozart's hand in 1788 (538 K.). At the close of it she has written the words: "Nei giomi tuoi felici pensa qualche volta al Popoli di Tessaglia."

L. Mozart, with his custom of reckoning on the selfishness of mankind, had already expressed apprehension lest Weber, now that he no longer required Wolfgang's good offices, should cease to desire his friendship. This was not indeed the case, but he found a great change in Aloysia's sentiments. "She appeared no longer to recognise him for whom she had once wept. So Mozart sat down to the clavier and sang loud: 'Ich lass das Mädel gern, das mich nicht will.'"[ 9 ] This renunciation might satisfy his pride, but not his heart; his love was too true and deep to evaporate as lightly as the whim of a woman whose true character he learnt to know later. And yet he wrote from Vienna to his father (May 16, 1781): "I was a fool about Lange's wife, that is certain; but who is not when he is in love? I loved her in very deed, and I feel that she is not yet indifferent to me. A good thing for me that her husband is a jealous fool and never lets her out of his sight, so that I seldom see her!" On January 7, 1779, Mozart was presented to the Electress by Cannabich, and handed her the sonatas he had composed for her; she conversed with him very graciously for a good half-hour. A few days after, he saw Schweitzer's "Alceste," which was the Carnival opera, and at last, after repeated injunctions from his father, he set out for Salzburg in the comfortable carriage of his fellow-traveller, a Salzburg merchant named Gschwendner.

CHAPTER XXI. COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG.

MOZART was welcomed to the paternal roof with open arms; everything was prepared for his reception; "a convenient cupboard and the clavichord were placed in his room," the cook Theresa had cooked capons without number, the high steward Count von Firmian (Vol. I., p. 345) offered him his horses, and Dr. Prexl also placed his "beautiful MOZART'S DISTASTE TO SALZBURG. bay mare" at his disposal; in short, Mozart's return home was a happy and triumphant event to all the good friends of his youth. We know the feelings with which he returned. Disappointed in his hopes of rapid and brilliant success, he returned to the old condition of things, and the yoke must have pressed on him all the more heavily now that his illusions were dispelled and he no longer saw a prospect of shaking it off. He had buried his mother in a foreign land, and his warm true heart had been deceived in its first love; in poverty he returned to his father's house. He was not in a position to see as clearly as we do how powerfully his added experience of life and manifold artistic impressions had contributed to his moral and mental development, and he could scarcely be expected to look to this development for the strength and courage necessary to face the future.

The commencement of his residence in Salzburg was cheered by the presence of his lively young cousin; she had followed him from Munich on his entreaties, to pay a visit of some weeks to her uncle. Mozart's amiability and cordial manners renewed many pleasant intimacies, but the actual cause of his distaste to Salzburg, viz., the want of cultivation and of a disinterested love of art among its inhabitants, remained as before, and his long absence was likely to make him feel it all the more sensibly. The Archbishop, compelled by circumstances and his surroundings to recall Mozart, had not by any means forgiven his voluntary resignation of his former office, and the disinclination to return which Mozart had so evidently displayed, was certainly not calculated to appease his ill-will. We shall soon learn the kind of treatment which Mozart had to expect from him. The Salzburg public are described by Wolfgang in a letter to his father (May 26, 1781): "When I play in Salzburg, or when any of my compositions are performed, the audience might just as well be chairs or tables." He declares that, although he actually loves work far better than idleness, the want of congenial intercourse and inspiring surroundings make it often almost impossible for him to set to work at composition. "And why? Because my mind is not at ease." Again, he says (April 8, 1781): "To dawdle away one's COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG. youth in such a wretched hole is sad enough, and harmful besides." This and similar expressions might lead one to suppose that Mozart had neglected composition during these years, but a survey of the works which are known to us suffices to dispel this idea.

His musical activity took as a matter of course, in all essential points, the same direction as formerly; his official position as concertmeister and as court and cathedral organist (for so he was entered in the Salzburg Court Calendar), gave occasion for instrumental and church compositions, the style and materials of which were as restricted as before.

The first instrumental composition, in G major (318 K.), dated April 26, 1779, seems to have been written for some very special occasion. The orchestra is strongly appointed (besides the quartet there are two flutes, two oboes, two bassoons, four horns in G and D, and two trumpets in C, and used for effects which must have startled the Salzburgers. It is in the form now usual for overtures, but out of date for concert symphonies, viz.: three connected movements, Allegro spiritoso 4-4, which contains, besides the principal energetic motif with which it begins, and which constantly recurs in different ways, two independent, quieter motifs in succession: Andante 3-8, gentle and soft, somewhat longer than is usual for middle movements, but simple and without thematic elaboration; it leads back to the first Allegro, shortened (by the omission of the second subordinate subject) and modified in the elaboration. The individual and dramatic character of this composition, expressed most particularly in the commencement and the close of it, makes it probable that it was written as an introduction to a drama. We shall see that there was no lack of occasion for such works. Also belonging to this period are two symphonies in the usual three movements.[ 1 ] The earlier, in B major (319 K., SYMPHONIES—SERENADE, 1779. part II), composed in the summer (July 9) of 1779, was evidently the results of "a pleased frame of mind"; it is a genuine product of Mozart's humour, lively, cheerful and full of grace and feeling. The second, a year later (August 29, 1780), in C major (338 K., part 10), is grander in conception and more serious in tone. This is particularly noticeable in the first movement; a constant propensity to fall into the minor key blends strength and decision with an expression not so much of melancholy as of consolation. In perfect harmony of conception, the simple and fervent Andante di molto combines exceeding tenderness with a quiet depth of tone. The contrasting instrumentation is very effective in this work; the first movement is powerful and brilliant, but in the second only stringed instruments (with doubled tenors) are employed. The last movement is animated throughout, and sometimes the orchestral treatment is rapid and impetuous.

A Serenade in D major (320 K.) belongs also to 1779, composed probably for some special festival, and (except that the march is omitted) quite in the style of the early already-noticed serenades[ 2 ] (Vol. I., p. 301). A short Adagio serves as introduction to a brilliant Allegro, arranged exactly like the first movement of a symphony, and worked out at considerable length; to this follows a minuet. Then there is inserted a concertante, described as such in the title, consisting of two movements, an Andante grazioso 3-4, and a rondo, Allegro ma non troppo 2-4, both in G major.[ 3 ] In earlier days, when Mozart figured as a violin-player, a violin solo played the chief part in such compositions; but now the wind instruments, two flutes, two oboes, and two bassoons are employed concertante; the stringed instruments and horns form the accompaniment proper. These two pieces are elaborated with great care and accuracy, and are clear and perspicuous as well as tender and graceful; COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG. the rondo is somewhat lighter in tone than the first movement. Of bravura, properly so called, there is none to be found, and the ornamental passages are confined to moderate amplifications of the melodies. The instruments are solo in that they bear the principal part throughout, concertante in that they emulate each other in manifold and changing combinations; their strife is playful, with sometimes almost a mischievous tone.

The Andantino which follows offers a strong contrast to both movements of the concertante. This is marked at once by the fact that the stringed instruments are here put forward as the exponents of the musical idea, while the very sparely used wind instruments only emphasise certain sharp points of detail. But the contrast is deeper than this; the light and sunshiny mood of the two previous movements accentuates the serious melancholy of the Andantino, which seems to tell not of the pain of an existing passion, but of the inner peace of a sorrow overcome. After a less noticeable minuet[ 4 ] the serenade closes with a long elaborate Presto, an important movement full of life and force; the most emphatic contrapuntal arrangement of the principal theme is in the middle passage; it is lively and original, as well as technically correct.

The melodies and subjects of these works show unmistakable progress; they are of maturer invention, have more musical substance, if the expression may be allowed, more delicacy and nobility of apprehension. Technical progress is visible in the greater freedom of the contrapuntal treatment, which had already been fully developed in Mozart's vocal compositions. This is most obviously apparent in those parts where thematic elaboration predominates, which are richer and freer than hitherto. There are also many motifs which owe their importance mainly to their contrapuntal treatment. But, above all, we recognise Mozart's sure tact in preserving the limits that prevent the interest in the PROGRESS IN INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. different combinations of counterpoint to which a motive can be subjected from becoming essentially technical, and losing its artistic character.

Equally surely has his genius preserved him from the mistake of ascribing any absolute value to the contrapuntal method, or favouring the logical element which lies in it to the disadvantage of sensuous beauty. He makes use of the forms of counterpoint only to arrest the attention and to heighten the interest, without wearying the mind, intruding a foreign element into the original essence of the work, or neglecting beauty of form; Mozart never forgets that music must be melodious. Therefore a receptive although uncultivated hearer receives a pleasing impression from artistic and even intricate passages, without at all suspecting the difficulties which he enjoys.

But the influence of the contrapuntal method reaches far deeper than well-defined and scholastic forms, just as a well-considered discourse does not consist merely in the observance of syllogistic forms. The principle of the free movement of the separate members of one whole penetrates the minutest divisions;

and the combined effects of creative ability and artistic cultivation are nowhere so well displayed as in the independent construction of the separate elements which go to form the whole work. We admire Mozart's art in devising his plan, in accurately distributing his principal parts, and in disposing his lights and shades; but where he is in truth inexhaustible is in his power of strewing round a wealth of small touches which assist the characterisation and give to each part its peculiar effect and, in some respect, the justification of its existence. This power, which always seems to have something at command beyond the necessities of the case (although, in fact, every detail which seems to be the chance expression of individual vigour is conditioned of necessity by the whole conception), is the prerogative of genuine creative genius. It approaches the eternal power of nature, whose apparent prodigality is revealed to the deeper view as the wisest economy, or rather as the unruffled harmony of a great whole. So a statue by Phidias suggests to the spectator the impression of animated COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG. nature, because it not merely puts before his eyes in general features a representation of the bodily form of man, but suggests to him the totality of the muscular movements which are in a living body in incessant activity. It is in art as in nature: the further we penetrate the fewer and less complex become the governing forces and impulses. Many details may be considered as trifling until it is asked whether they, in their place, have the required effect as part of the whole. When a work of art gives an effect of an artistic whole, in a way which cannot be explained by a consideration of its apparently insignificant parts, this may be taken as the surest proof that the artist worked downwards from his conception of a great whole to the minutest details of his work. We must not undervalue, on the other hand, Mozart's more exact knowledge and freer use than formerly of external means. His residence in Mannheim had given him an altogether new conception of the performance of a good orchestra, both as to sound-effects and execution. The result is present in these compositions, although Salzburg surroundings and customs limited him greatly in his choice of means. It may be that for these reasons his instrumental combinations show no marked progress on former works, but the skilful use of the forces at his command become all the more apparent.

It is remarkable how, without any alteration in the instrumentation as a whole, the body of sound has become richer and fuller, the result of a more careful consideration of the particular nature of each instrument. This is most striking in the management of the wind instruments. The bassoons predominate throughout, independently treated, whereas formerly they only strengthened the bass; and the use of the horns, with their long-sustained notes, shows marked progress. The combination of the wind instruments, sometimes in opposition to the stringed instruments, sometimes in unison with them, is another advance. Effective as are the wind instruments in combination, they are still more so in the delicacy of their individual features, and the perfection of their treatment could not fail to influence that of the stringed instruments, which show the same higher conception of what orchestral performances ought to be.

MOZART AS A CONDUCTOR.

The Mannheim experiences were not without result either in respect to the executive delivery of the orchestra. Mozart must have been particularly impressed with the effect of crescendo, for almost in every passage we meet with phrases built upon a long-drawn crescendo. The contrast between piano and forte is also made the most of. Regular alternations of long passages forte and piano were formerly the custom, but now we have a rapid succession of very varied shades, fortissimo and pianissimo being also brought into use. But all these are only the outward signs of a higher intellectual apprehension, for which it was necessary also to give credit to the performers; the composer, far from relying only on external effect, makes it the mere expression of the deeper meaning and intrinsic value of his compositions; it is from this point of view that the progress made by Mozart in the manipulation of his artistic materials acquires its true worth in the eyes of a musical critic.

We may imagine that Mozart found it no easy task to substitute a completely new style of execution for the time-honoured customs of the Salzburg band. The energy with which he was able at a later date to inspire the Leipzig orchestra, wedded as it was to its own traditions, gives some indication of his way of proceeding as a young man at Salzburg. His cousin used to hold forth later on Mozart's eccentric behaviour when conducting, and we may imagine that she witnessed some of the extraordinary scenes she describes during her present visit to Salzburg.

Mozart never appeared again as a violin-player, and we therefore find no compositions for the violin belonging to this period. After such an expression of opinion concerning the Salzburg public as that noted above, we cannot wonder that he was not over-anxious to appear before them as a clavier-player. We doubtless owe the Concerto for two claviers with orchestral accompaniment in E flat major (365 K., part 17) to his wish to play a duet with his sister.[ 5 ]

COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG.

In design and treatment it is essentially similar to the earlier triple concerto. There is no intention apparent of making the two instruments independent; the players emulate each other in the delivery of the melodies and passages, sometimes together, sometimes in succession, often breaking off in rapid changes and interruptions; the melodies are sometimes simply repeated, sometimes with variations so divided between the two instruments that neither can be said to have the advantage over the other. There are somewhat greater difficulties of execution than have been usual hitherto, a few passages, for instance, in octaves and thirds, but very modest ones; the passages generally have more variety and elegance. The orchestra is simply and judiciously, but very delicately treated, the wind instruments in sustained chords, as a foundation for the clavier passages; the effect of the crescendo and a greater attention to light and shade show the influence of Mannheim. Altogether the concerto is a well-arranged composition, clear and melodious, as well as accurately constructed, with a free, cheerful expression, which is most strikingly shown in the fresh gaiety of the last movement.

As organist, Mozart was under the necessity of playing the organ at festivals, but as a rule only for accompaniments and for interludes at set places, which gave him opportunities for improvising—his special delight. We have some organ sonatas with orchestral accompaniments belonging to this time (328, 329, 336, K.), quite in the style of those already noticed (Vol. I., p. 286); compositions after the fashion of the first movement of a sonata, without a trace of ecclesiastical severity, either in the technical construction, which is very light, or in the style, which is brilliant and cheerful. The organ occurs as an obbligato instrument only in one of these sonatas (329 K.), which is the most elaborated, but still very moderate in style, and without any florid passages.

MASSES, 1779, 1780.

Of more important church compositions there belong to this period two Masses in C major, of which the earlier (317 K.) is one of Mozart's best-known works of the kind, bearing date March 23, 1779, and the later (337 K.) was written in March, 1780.[ 6 ] They are quite after the prescribed manner, not too long, not too serious, and yet not light; in no respect difficult or important, and closely allied in substance and treatment to the earlier works which have already been analysed (Vol. I., pp. 263 et seq.). The easy invention, never at a loss for fitting expression, the talent for organisation which arranges the parts into a connected and coherent whole, the technical sureness which gives to every detail its due share of interest—above all, the inexhaustible gift of melody and symmetry: all these qualities are here to be found, and it is by their aid that, in spite of hampering circumstances, such great and healthy work was done.

Nevertheless, these Masses show more plainly even than earlier works of the same kind how the fetters of outward control check the impulses of inner strength and feeling. We see Mozart as it were in court dress; he is expert enough to move in it with tolerable freedom, but he is disguised rather than clothed. Conventional influence is most apparent in the instrumentation, which, as a whole, is little different from that of the earlier works. Some passages are remarkable even in their instrumentation; for instance, the Et incarnatus and Crucifixus of the first Mass have an expressive violin passage, and in the second the treatment of the wind instruments in the Crucifixus and Resurrexit, and the organ, oboe, and bassoon in emulation with the voice in the Agnus Dei, remind us of Mannheim.

But these are details, and in its general features the tone-colouring of the orchestra is the same as formerly; rapid violin passages predominate, the trombone follows the voice regularly and forte, and so on. But in other respects original features are not wanting, nor even passages of surprising beauty, to which belongs, for instance, the unusually melodious close of the first Mass, in which the Benedictus, COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG. contrary to custom in a serious choral movement, is in strict counterpoint. These are signs of a great genius, which make us regret all the more that the whole work is not dictated and inspired by the same spirit. To this period also, according to the handwriting, belongs a Kyrie sketched by Mozart and not preserved quite complete (323 K.), which has been completed and printed as a Regina coeli by Stadler. It is characterised by a rapid sextole passage which is distributed among the wind instruments in uninterrupted movement. The voices take their own independent course throughout. Among other unfinished attempts by Mozart preserved in the Mozarteum at Salzburg, and both by the handwriting and instrumentation, as well as from other reasons, to be referred to this time, we may particularise the beginning of a Mass with obbligato organ (Anh., 13 K.) and the beginning (two pages) of a Kyrie (Anh., 16 K.), which is in such strict counterpoint that the Mass, if it had been finished, would have been among the most elaborate of them all. But Mozart had neither inducement nor the means for producing such compositions in Salzburg.

Two Vespers by Mozart (321, 339, K.), of the years 1779 and 1780, have much the same resemblance in substance and compass to masses that litanies had at an earlier period, but they stand higher in many respects.

Five psalms and the Virgin's hymn of praise form the part of the Vespers which is in varied chant; every division ends with the doxology, and is complete in itself. In the Litany the principal part is framed in, as it were, by two equally original and characteristic movements, the Kyrie and Agnus; the Vespers, on the other hand consist of six separate movements which have no connection, either actual or artistic. More striking differences of key are therefore permissible than is generally the case with the movements of one composition,[ 7 ] and it was possible to put together at pleasure VESPERS, 1779, 1780. psalms belonging to different compositions, sometimes even by different composers. The Dixit and Magnificat, as the two corner-posts, were considered the principal parts; they were generally specially composed, and: others inserted between them. As the words of the doxology (Gloria Patri) recur at the close of each movement, it would have been natural that the idea should arise of giving them the same musical rendering, and suggesting a relation between the different movements by this kind of refrain. But they are, on the contrary, in close connection with the words to which they serve as a conclusion, so as to characterise the use of the general formula as dependent on the special nature of each case. For the most part, therefore, a principal subject of the piece which it concludes is utilised for the doxology, and it is astonishing of what a variety of appropriate and expressive musical renderings these words are capable.

A settled custom became established, both as to the general conception and the distinguishing characteristics of these compositions, which was closely followed even by Mozart. In the main, the conception and treatment resembled those of the litanies; the effort is evident to reconcile the requirements of Divine service with the prevailing and somewhat trivial musical taste of the times. But the vespers preserved the dignity and solemnity of church music more strictly than the litanies. There is no sign of a leaning to operatic style, concessions to bravura are sparely and exceptionally made, the orchestra preserves the simplicity of the traditional church orchestra,[ 8 ] and limited scope is allowed even to grace and pleasing fancies. Nevertheless, the expression of dignity and solemnity shows the influence of a time which did not exact from sacred art the absorption of the inner man in the sacred and the divine, but was satisfied with a decent COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG. observance of the forms of external homage. It was left to the artist, who had a deeper spiritual craving, and such a delicate artistic sense as forbade the use of form without substance, to give a higher tone to his work. In this sense we may include by far the larger portions of these vespers among Mozart's great works.

As concerns the musical construction in detail, a narrow mode of treatment resulted throughout from the conditions of worship; the words had to be composed straight through, just as in short Masses. A broader rendering of separate portions which might seem to lend themselves to musical expression was not admitted, and the endeavour after a dramatic characterisation of certain points did not come within the artistic usages of the time. The important point, therefore, was not to render the words in music, so as to give a new and fitting expression to each detail, but to invent characteristic motifs for the important points which should be suitable for further elaboration, and which, in spite of individual distinction, should spring from the fundamental conception of the whole work. The task of the composer is not made easier by the words of the psalms; they do not offer a good basis for musical construction, nor are the ideas conveyed in them generally such as would incite to musical production. The composer must therefore be original in no ordinary degree, and it is excusable if he now and then handles the rules and forms of his art with a certain amount of abruptness, and even makes verbal expression subservient to them, so far as it can be done without harmful pressure.

In order to introduce variety among these closely allied compositions a certain type had been formed, which was not exactly the inevitable consequence of the effort to satisfy the rules of art and of good taste, but, as in the litanies, exercised considerable influence over the treatment of the text. The two vespers we are considering are very similar in form and workmanship. Various parts are treated in both with marked preference, and it is scarcely possible to place one before the other in merit, except that perhaps the earlier one is the more serious.

The first psalm, Dixit Dominus, is formed into an VESPERS, 1779, 1780. animated, restless movement, full of strength and dignity; while the same tone predominates in both, there is more fire and brilliancy in the first composition, more mildness and tranquillity in the second. The kind of treatment may be compared to that of the Gloria and Credo of the Mass. Without any sustained thematic elaboration, certain principal motifs are maintained and emphasised in different ways. The animated string passages are not only in varied harmonic combinations, but often in counterpoint, either imitative or a combination of the different subjects. The voices are free and independent, but with a few trifling exceptions they are treated harmonically; solo voices sometimes alternate with the chorus, but without any special prominence.

The second psalm, Confitebor tibi, Domine, is in the earlier Vesper (321 K.), a chorale with solo intermixed, accompanied only by the organ and stringed instruments (E minor 3-4). This mature and beautiful composition approaches the Mass in F major (Vol. I., p. 257) both in tender and fervent sentiment and in simplicity and purity of form. But there the treatment is contrapuntal throughout, here it is essentially harmonic. The independent progress of the voices displays a succession of rich and startling harmonies in animated but natural development; notwithstanding many suspensions and unexpected turns, they are always clear and melodious, and always the true and natural expression of the sentiment to be conveyed.[ 9 ] The frame of mind represented is not one of fanatical remorse, but rather of a soul penetrated with the feeling of guilt, and impelled to acknowledge it with shame and anguish. The moderate expression of such a mood, which might easily pass over into the sentimental, coincides with the symmetry of form observable in the main features as well as in the details of the work. The corresponding movement of the second Vesper (339 K.) is not to be placed on the same level as this. It maintains on the whole the tone of the first movement, with an increase of earnestness, COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG. and is a clever and melodious composition, with good effect in its place; but the poetical beauty of the other is altogether wanting.

The third psalm, Beatus vir, has least original colouring. It is in both Vespers a lively, powerful, one might almost say, cheerful movement, suggestive of the Gloria or Credo of more than one mass, but without the solemnity which characterises them. Here, too, solo voices alternate with the chorus[ 10 ] without interrupting the steady flow of the composition. In the earlier work there are some beautiful harmonic effects; in the later, contrapuntal phrases sometimes occur; an animated rapid accompaniment by the violins is common to both.

As in the Litany, the Pignus futuræ gloriæ, so in the Vesper the fourth psalm, Laudate pueri, was treated in severe counterpoint, and here it was that a thoroughly trained church composer made good his claim to the title. In the first of the Vespers that we are considering this psalm[ 11 ] is a clever piece of counterpoint, original in form, and deviating from the strict regularity which usually characterises Mozart.

It begins with an infinite canon. The twelve bars melody for the soprano—[See Page Image]

is imitated three bars later by the alto in unison. Then follows the tenor an octave higher, and then the bass in unison. After the completion of the melody the soprano again takes it up, alto and tenor follow. The regular progress of the canon is then broken by a complete final cadenza, in which all the voices unite on the last note of the bass melody. A short theme introduced by the bass—[See Page Image] LAUDATE PUERI. is imitated by the other parts in similar or in contrary motion, and soon passes over into a short passage ending in D minor. Hereupon the soprano interposes with a new and characteristic melody—[See Page Image]

the first bars of which are taken up by the other voices; but instead of a further elaboration, a new theme is introduced by the alto, followed by a counter-theme, which are both imitated together—

whereupon the alto raises a new melody, which is figured by the other parts in imitation as Cantus firmus, and closes in A minor. Then the alto begins with the previous soprano subject, but now in F major; the soprano follows with the second, but the imitative figuring soon gives place to a fine harmonic elaboration, followed by the third passage; the imitative parts maintain the same character, and the alto has now another Cantus firmus. To this at last is appended a long coda, formed of detachments of previous subjects, variously elaborated in stretto and contrary motion, ending in organ point on the dominant. It cannot fail to be remarked how tuneful and melodious, as well as independent, characteristic, and striking in their effect are the different parts. The melodies which compose the Cantus firmus may have been, in part at least, borrowed from church tones. Far more ambitious is the contrapuntal work in the second Vesper,[ 12 ] which consists of a close succession of COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG. difficult problems solved after the severest and most rigorous rules. After the first regular enunciation of the theme—[See Page Images] there occurs a second motif—which is at first treated freely, and issues into a short harmonic passage, which is afterwards used again as an interlude. Then the two motifs are combined—[See Page Image] and elaborated together, after which this section closes on the chord of the dominant in a stretto arrangement of the chief subject, while the violins take up the subordinate motif. When the chief subject has again asserted itself, there follows its inversion as a counter-subject—and regular elaboration, ending in the above interlude, after which the subject and its inversion appear together as an organ point on the fundamental tone, while the violins proceed with an independent accompaniment:—[See Page Images]

After the previous stretto has again occurred on the chord of the dominant the two first subjects reappear in new LAUDATE DOMINUM AND MAGNIFICAT. original climacteric treatment, divided between the voices and the accompaniment;—[See Page Image]

A free conclusion brings the artistic and forcible work to an end.

As if for refreshment after this effort, the fifth psalm, Lau-date Dominum, is treated as a solo movement of a pleasing character. In the earlier vesper it is a soprano solo with organ obbligato, not certainly set in prescribed aria form, but in its brilliant passages and easy grouping of the melodies more akin to secular music than any other of Mozart's church compositions of this period. In the second vesper the psalm has a more solemn character, but even here it is a mild and tender soprano solo, somewhat pastoral in tone, and supported by a solo bassoon; simple throughout, and with a fine climax at the close, the doxology being sung by the chorus.

The Virgin's hymn of praise, "Magnificat anima mea," which forms the conclusion of the Vespers, is by its form the part best fitted for musical rendering. But the connection in which it here stands with the preceding psalms obliges a corresponding treatment both as to extent and conception. We must not therefore look either for a comprehensive treatment giving free development to the details of the separate sentences, such as is to be found in the Magnificats of some great masters, or for such an amount of dramatic characterisation as the words give scope for. The text is tersely and precisely treated, with the avowed intention of concluding the work with a movement in contrast to the COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG. first psalm. This is evident not only in the external arrangement, which introduces trumpets and drums, and returns to the original key, but in the technical treatment and the closely allied tone of expression. The expression of firm and cheerful confidence, which is common to both, is naturally accentuated in the Magnificat in accordance with the text, and the lively expectation of the first psalm is now turned into thanksgiving for its fulfilment. The technical treatment of the Magnificat is consistently more important and animated, especially in the extended use of the forms of counterpoint; but in the main the two compositions have the same tone and colour, and the same condensed and impulsive style. The words "Magnificat anima mea Dominum" form a solemn introduction as a short slow movement; "Et exultavit" is in quicker tempo, which is maintained to the end, chorus and solo alternating in the usual way. Here again it is to be noticed that different points are accentuated in the earlier Magnificat chiefly by harmonic means, in the second chiefly by counterpoint.

Having in these works followed Mozart's steady upward progress along the path which he had previously entered on, a progress maintained against most unfavourable surroundings, let us now turn to his attempts in the new province of music as an adjunct to the drama. Remembering his intense desire to write for the stage, a desire which had been increased by the manifold influences of his travels, we shall not be surprised that even theatrical undertakings in Salzburg offered him the opportunity he sought. When he returned home a theatrical company was performing under Böhm's management; in 1780 we find Shikaneder there with his travelling troupe, a friend of the Mozart family, joining in their quoit contests and quite ready to turn Wolfgang's talents to his own advantage.[ 13 ] Two great works owe their origin to these performances, although the exact time of their production cannot now be ascertained.

KÖNIG THAMOS.

The first is the music to "Thamos, King of Egypt" (345 K.), an heroic drama, by Baron Tob. Phil, von Gebler, who, in spite of his exalted position, had devoted himself zealously since 1769 to the reform of the Vienna theatre.[ 14 ] The contents of the piece need be given but briefly, since it is as good as lost:[ 15 ]—

Menes, King of Egypt, has been deposed by a usurper, Rameses, and as it is thought, assassinated; but he is living under the name of Sethos as high priest of the Temple of the Sun, the secret being known only to the priest Hammon and the general Phanes. After the death of Rameses his son Thamos is heir to the throne. The day arrives when Thamos attains majority, is to be invested with the diadem, and to select a bride. The friends of Menes seek in vain to persuade him to dispute the throne. He will not oppose the noble youth whom he loves and esteems. But Pheron, a prince and confidant of Thamos has, in conjunction with Mirza, the chief of the virgins of the sun, organised a conspiracy against Thamos, and won over a portion of the army. Tharsis, daughter of Menes, who is believed by all, even her father, to be dead, has been brought up by Mirza under the name of Sais. It is arranged that she shall be proclaimed rightful heir to the throne, and as she will then have the right to choose her consort, Mirza will secure her beforehand for Pheron. When she discovers that Sais loves Thamos, and he her, she induces Sais to believe that Thamos prefers her playmate Myris, and Sais is generous enough to sacrifice her love and her hopes of the throne to her friend. Equally nobly Thamos rejects all suspicions against Pheron, and awards him supreme command. As the time for action draws near, Pheron discloses to Sethos, whom he takes for a devoted follower of Menes, and consequently for an enemy to Thamos, the secret of Sais' existence and his own plans. Sethos prepares secretly to save Thamos. Sais also, after being pledged to silence by an oath, is initiated into the secret by Mirza and Pheron, and directed to choose Pheron. She declines to give a decided answer, and Pheron announces to Mirza his determination to seize the throne by force in case of extremity. Sais, who believes herself not loved by Thamos, and will not therefore choose him as consort, but will not deprive him of the throne, takes the solemn and irrevocable oath as virgin of the sun. Thamos enters, and they discover to their sorrow their mutual love. Sethos, entering, enlightens Thamos as to the treachery of Pheron, without disclosing the parentage of Sais. Pheron, disturbed by the report that Menes is COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG. still living, comes to take council of Sethos, and adheres to his treacherous design. In solemn assembly Thamos is about to be declared king, when Mirza reveals the fact that Sais is the lost Tharsis, and heiress to the throne. Thamos is the first to offer her his homage. When she is constrained to choose between Thamos and Pheron she declares herself bound by her oath, and announces Thamos as the possessor of the throne. Then Pheron calls his followers to arms, but Sethos steps forward and discloses himself as Menes; whereupon all fall at his feet in joyful emotion. Pheron is disarmed and led off, Mirza stabs herself, Menes, as father and ruler, releases Sais from her oath, unites her with Thamos, and places the pair on the throne. A message arrives that Pheron has been struck with lightning by Divine judgment, and the piece ends.

Mozart wrote music to this drama at Salzburg in 1779 or 1780, according to the evidence of the handwriting and paper of the score, as well as of the treatment of the orchestra.[ 16 ] It consisted at first of four instrumental movements which were played between the acts, and one which formed the conclusion of the whole piece. It was not a new idea to compose appropriate music to a drama of importance instead of the usual indifferent or inappropriate instrumental movements. Joh. Ad. Scheibe (1708-1776) wrote music for "Polyeucte" and "Mithridate" in 1738, and afterwards wrote an article on this kind of music in the "Kritischen Musicus." He maintained that the overture should be composed with reference to the whole piece, and should lead up to its commencement; that the symphonies between the acts should be connected both with the act which preceded and that which followed, so as to lead the audience insensibly from the one frame of mind to the other. The closing symphony should be in close relationship to the end of the piece, so as to intensify the impression made by the denouement upon the audience. He ENTR'ACTES. considered a change of instruments particularly necessary, in order to keep up the attention of the audience; but care must be taken to select the most appropriate instruments for each movement, so as to express what had to be expressed in the most effective manner possible.

Scheibe was followed by Joh. Christ. Hertel (1726-1789) with the music to Cronegk's "Olint and Sophronia,"[ 17 ] and by others (among them Agricola) with the music to "Semi-ramis" (after Voltaire), which Lessing thought worthy of an analysis, and declared his opinion that the entr'actes should have no reference to the following act, but should only amplify and conclude what had gone before.[ 18 ] Vogler's overture and entr'actes to "Hamlet" were given in Mannheim in 1779.[ 19 ] Even in Salzburg M. Haydn had composed in 1777 special music for the performance of Voltaire's "Zaire" by French actors, which was received with great applause.[ 20 ]

The music to "King Thamos" has, curiously enough, no overture, which is perhaps accounted for by the fact that the play begins with a chorus, and so is opened by music.[ 21 ] Each entr'acte is in connection with the last scene of the preceding act, and seeks to express the same set of emotions by means of music; Mozart has each time noted down what seemed to him the prevailing idea to be represented. Thus, he writes concerning the first movement: "The first act ends with the determination of Mirza and Pheron to place the latter COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG. on the throne." Upon the last words of Mirza—"Mirza, a woman, trembles not. Thou art a man; conquer, or die!"—the orchestra strikes in with three solemn chords, the effect heightened by long pauses; then begins a restless and agitated Allegro (in C minor). The prevailing tone is one of excitement, and those who were in the theatre might well receive the suggestion of Mirza, as an eager passionate woman, inciting Pheron to action; but the characterisation is not very striking. It is only noticeable that the separate phrases of the subject are shorter and in greater contrast than is usual with Mozart; otherwise we have before us a movement in two parts, with a coda arranged in the ordinary manner, but not elaborated.

The second act has, if possible, a still more general application: "The noble nature of Thamos is displayed at the end of the second act; the third act opens with Thamos and the traitor Pheron," and the dialogue wherein Thamos declares his belief in Pheron's fidelity, and resigns Sais to him, while Pheron continues to dissemble. Here, too, Mozart has written an ordinary movement in two parts (Andante, E flat major); but he has resorted to the expedient of denoting the character of the two personages by means of distinct subjects, which he indicates by superscriptions:—[See page images]

ENTR'ACTES TO KÔNIG THAMOS.

It is easy to be seen here that musical contrast is the main point, and that the characterisation is very general, quite apart from the fact that integrity and hypocrisy cannot be expressed in music, as Mozart was well aware, in spite of his naïve superscriptions. The inadequacy of such COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG. characterisation is shown in the second part, where both characters occur together:—[See Page Image]

Here the expression has become still more general, and we have only the musical development of a given subject, not the progress of a dramatic situation; more than this it is out of the province of the musician to give.

The suggestions for the music of the third entr'acte are more promising. The music is connected in the first place with the last scene: 44 The third act closes with the treacherous dialogue between Mirza and Pheron,,, expressed by means of an agitated, strongly accented Allegro, which, however, soon breaks off, and dies away. Thereupon the music turns to the fourth act, which begins with the vow of the deluded Sais. Here the influence of the melodrama upon Mozart becomes apparent, for he follows with his music every turn in the monologue of Sais, indicating each by a superscription. We may, indeed, doubt whether he had not some idea of a melodramatic delivery of the music, although there are no pauses left for spoken sentences, and the flow of the music, notwithstanding frequent changes of time is uninterrupted. This movement would be most open to the adverse criticism of Lessing, for it anticipates the whole of the following scene. In itself it is the most expressive and the most successful; in spite of its division into separate points it preserves connection and ENTR'ACTES TO KÖNIG THAMOS. unity, and a tone of tender grace such as becomes a bashful maiden.

The fourth entr'acte is again an animated movement (Allegro vivace assai) which is to depict "the universal confusion" with which the fourth act concludes. We can recognise in the wild, restless subject, in opposition to which is placed another full of dignity and reserve, the intended contrast between the conspirators and Thamos with his followers; but we need, of course, to be told what it is that the music means to represent.

Since the spectators were in a position to transfer the factitious presumption from the stage to the music, a general characterisation would suffice for them. The music therefore fulfils its primary aim, but it has undertaken a task which lies beyond its province, and a previous knowledge of the subject treated is indispensable to the due appreciation of it; in this way the music is as dependent as though it were a setting to words without the advantage of the direct intelligibleness given to it by words.

The closing movement describes "Pheron's despair, blasphemy, and death." As this situation coincides with a fearful thunderstorm, the musical characterisation is confined to a representation of it without any dramatic detail; it is a wildly forcible movement, and the effect accords well with the suggested idea.[ 22 ]

It is unquestionable that Mozart, excited by the melodrama, has set himself eagerly to express dramatic details in music, and yet in almost every case the exigencies of musical construction have been too much for him. The impressions he has received from the drama become only impulses, leading him to accent more sharply and set in stronger contrast the various points of his composition; the special points of the dramatic situations are not fully brought out in the music. This is in great measure the fault of the play, which affords few powerful or effective suggestions to the composer either through its characters or its situations; COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG. great poetical or dramatic power would no doubt have called forth other music. That such a play should have been received with interest and applause,[ 23 ] that it should have incited Mozart to composition, is a speaking proof of the taste of the time. Shakespeare and Goethe had not yet penetrated the intellectual atmosphere in which Mozart had grown up; before poetry could assert its sway in the province of music it had to express and realise the demand for a characterisation bringing to view the most individual traits of human character.

Gebler had sought to invest his drama with peculiar dignity by providing it with choruses, for which Racine's "Athalie" may have furnished him with an example. The play begins with a solemn sacrifice in the Temple of the Sun, the priests and virgins singing hymns to the Godhead; in the same way, at the beginning of the fifth act, the coronation of the king is introduced by a sacrifice, the priests and virgins again singing a hymn.[ 24 ] These choruses gave Mozart opportunity for a magnificent style of composition, with all the brilliancy that external support could give.

The hymns were well-known ones with Latin words inserted later, for which, however, a German translation was again substituted. Our judgment as to style and conception CHORUSES TO KONIG THAMOS. will naturally be affected by the fact that the hymns were written for the theatre, and not as church music proper; and yet these very hymns have been widely circulated by countless performances in churches, and are made to serve as the principal evidence of Mozart's style of church music. There is no question that their whole conception is grander, freer, and more imposing than that of any of his masses belonging to that period, but this is because he felt himself unfettered by conventional restrictions. A solemn act of worship was represented on the stage, the expression of reverence to the Supreme Being was heightened in effect by the Egyptian surroundings; and Mozart's endeavour was to render the consequent emotions with all possible truth and force. But he was fully conscious that the expression must be dramatic. Therefore everything was avoided that directly suggested the church, and an impression of splendour and brilliancy was given which in this fashion was foreign to the church; above all the subjective points of sentiment are thrown into strong relief, and forcibly expressed. But although there is an essential difference between these choruses and Mozart's contemporary church music, yet we cannot fail to perceive a certain amount of resemblance in the manner in which the solemnity and importance of religious ceremony is rendered both here and in the "Zauberflöte." The drama itself has some resemblance to the "Zauberflöte," both in its deistic-humani-tarian tendency and its Egyptian costume and sun-worship. Freemasonry may have exerted some influence over Gebler's mind[ 25 ]—it could have had none at that time over Mozart.

In the music to the "Zauberflöte" everything, more especially the power of concentrating ideas in the strictest forms, shows mature development, while here we are aware of the youthful genius, rejoiced at the opportunity of pouring forth his best in full measure, and thereby satisfying his nature to the utmost. The consideration of these choruses explains his joy at finding the chorus in Paris strong and good, COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG. (Vol. I., p. 429), and choruses, his "most favourite compositions," well performed and much thought of; we can imagine what he would have made of the choruses if he had written a grand opera in Paris. They leave Gebler's words (out of which, according to Wieland, Gluck could have made something excellent) so far behind that the music and the poetry, considered from an artistic point of view, seem to belong to different periods. For actual representation they are no doubt too grandly and broadly conceived and executed; they overpower the whole drama with their weight. The impression of solemnity and grandeur produced on the mind by symbolic ceremonies is rendered with dignity, and at the same time with fire and energy. The chorus and orchestra unite to give the effect of splendour and magnificence, and startling harmonies are borne along as if on an irresistible stream; the lighter subordinate subjects (divided between male and female chorus as well as solo voices) are less marked. The style and treatment of the choruses have afforded a precedent for many similar works in later days; so also has the way in which the choruses and a full orchestra are united so as to give a massive effect, both of arrangement and construction. Mozart himself had no opportunity of again uniting chorus and orchestra on a large scale, and proceeding further in the same direction; Haydn in his oratorios inherited this portion of Mozart's genius, and numerous efforts have since been made to accomplish what Mozart began.

The orchestra is provided with all the external advantages that Salzburg could offer; no instruments employed at a later date are wanting, except the clarinet, which Mozart missed so sensibly. It is organised and constructed exactly as we find it at the present day; the wind instruments of wood and brass and the stringed instruments are united in definite groups, but in perfect freedom of treatment. Most striking is Mozart's progress in his treatment of the brass instruments. The trombones are no longer with the voices, and where they support them they do it in an independent manner, generally by sustained chords. But they also take their own place in the orchestra, the horns and trumpets united with them, and CHORUSES TO KÖNIG THAMOS. then again the horns combine with the wood-wind instruments; while the trumpets, with the drums, occasionally assert their peculiar character. In the same way, the other wind instruments are combined among themselves, as well as with the other instruments; it is in accordance with their nature that the rendering of the more delicate details should fall to their share. Such an extended employment of the wind instruments must naturally have influenced the treatment of the strings. These are independently and forcibly placed in contrast with the wind instruments, so that, while the latter heighten the colouring, the former determine the fundamental character of the work and maintain unity of tone. In short, all important effects which can be produced by different combinations of the instruments are here brought into use, not merely as sound effects produced by changes of tone colouring, but as the means of giving due expression to musical ideas.

LIFE OF MOZART

By Otto Jahn.

Translated from The German by Pauline D. Townsend.With A Preface by George Grove, Esq., D.C.L.In Three Volumes Vol. II.London Novello, Ewer & Co.1881.

VOL. II.

CHAPTER XVIII. FRENCH OPERA.

CHAPTER XIX. PARIS, 1778.

CHAPTER XX. THE RETURN HOME.

CHAPTER XXI. COURT SERVICE IN SALZBURG.

Translated from The German by Pauline D. Townsend.
With A Preface by George Grove, Esq., D.C.L.
In Three Volumes Vol. II.
London Novello, Ewer & Co.
1881.