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. III.
London Novello, Ewer & Co.
| [Volume I.] | [Volume II.] |
FAC-SIMILES
Fac-similé No. 1 is of Mozart's letter to Bullinger from Paris, after the death of his mother (see Vol. II., p. 53).
Fac-simile No. 2 is of the original MS. of "Das Veil-chen," now in the possession of Mr. Speyer, of Herne Hill (see Vol. II., p. 373).
Fac-similes Nos. 3 and 4 are sketches illustrative of Mozart's method of composing. Sketch I. is described in Vol. II., p. 425. Sketch II. is of part of Denis's Ode, the words of which are given below; it is noticed in Vol. II., pp. 370, 424:
O Calpe! dir donnerts am Fusse,
Doch blickt dein tausendjähriger
Gipfel Ruhig auf Welten umher.
Siehe dort wölkt es sich auf
Ueber die westlichen Wogen her,
Wölket sich breiter und ahnender auf,—
Es flattert, O Calpe! Segelgewolk!
Flügel der Hülfe! Wie prachtig
Wallet die Fahne Brittaniens
Deiner getreuen Verheisserin!
Calpe! Sie walltl Aber die Nacht sinkt,
Sie deckt mit ihren schwàrzesten,
Unholdesten Rabenfittigen Gebirge,
Flàchen, Meer und Bucht Und Klippen, wo der bleiche
Tod Des Schiffers, Kiele spaltend, sitzt.
Hinan!
CONTENTS
[ CHAPTER XXXIV. MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. ]
[ CHAPTER XXXV. MOZART AS AN OPERA COMPOSER. ]
[ CHAPTER XXXVI. "LE NOZZE DI FIGARO." ]
[ CHAPTER XXXVII. MOZART IN PRAGUE. ]
[ CHAPTER XXXVIII. "DON GIOVANNI." ]
[ CHAPTER XXXIX. OFFICIAL AND OCCASIONAL WORKS. ]
[ CHAPTER XL. A PROFESSIONAL TOUR. ]
[ CHAPTER XLI. "COSÌ FAN TUTTE," ]
[ CHAPTER XLII. LABOUR AND POVERTY. ]
[ CHAPTER XLIII. "DIE ZAUBERFLÖTE" ]
[ CHAPTER XLIV. ILLNESS AND DEATH. ]
[ CHAPTER XLVI. AT THE GRAVE. ]
[ APPENDIX I. MARIANNE MOZART. ]
[ APPENDIX II. ARRANGEMENTS OF MOZART'S CHURCH MUSIC. ]
[ APPENDIX III. PORTRAITS OF MOZART. ]
[ APPENDIX IV. LIST OF WORKS and INDEX ]
CHAPTER XXXIV. MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC.
NEXT to pianoforte music for amateur musical entertainments, the quartet for stringed instruments was the favourite form of chamber music. The performers were occasionally highly cultivated amateurs, but more often professional musicians, thus giving scope for more pretentious compositions. The comparatively small expense involved enabled others besides noblemen, even those of the citizen class who were so inclined, to include quartet-playing among their regular entertainments.[ 1 ] Jos. Haydn was, as is well known, the musician who gave to the quartet its characteristic form and development.[ 2 ] Other composers had written works for four stringed instruments, but the string quartet in its well-defined and henceforth stationary constitution was his creation, the result of his life-work. It is seldom that an artist has been so successful in discovering the fittest outcome for his individual productiveness; the quartet was Haydn's natural expression of his musical nature. The freshness and life, the cheerful joviality, which are the main characteristics of his compositions, gained ready and universal acceptance for them. Connoisseurs and critics, it is true, were at first suspicious, and even contemptuous, of this new kind of music; and it was only gradually that they became aware that depth and earnestness of feeling, as well as knowledge and skill, existed together with humour in Haydn's quartets. He went on his way, however, untroubled MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. by the critics, and secured the favour and adherence of the public by an unbroken series of works: whoever ventured on the same field was obliged to serve under his banner.
The widespread popularity of quartet music in Vienna could not fail to impel Mozart to try his forces in this direction. His master was also his attached friend and fellow-artist, with whom he stood in the position, not of a scholar, but of an independent artist in noble emulation. The first six quartets belong to the comparatively less numerous works which Mozart wrote for his own pleasure, without any special external impulse. They are, as he says in the dedication to Haydn, the fruit of long and earnest application, and extended over a space of several years. The first, in G major (387 K.), was, according to a note on the autograph manuscript, written on December 31, 1782; the second, in D minor (421 K.), in June, 1783, during Constanze's confinement (Vol. II., p. 423); and the third, in E flat major (428 K.), belongs to the same year. After a somewhat lengthy pause he returned with new zeal to the composition of the quartets; the fourth, in B flat major (458 K.), was written November 9, 1784; the fifth, in A major (464 K.), on January 10; and the last, in C major (465 K.), on January 14, 1785. It was in February of this year that Leopold Mozart paid his visit to Vienna. He knew the first three quartets, Wolfgang having sent them to him according to custom; and he heard the others at a musical party where Haydn was also present; the warmly expressed approbation of the latter may have been the immediate cause of Mozart's graceful dedication, when he published the quartets during the autumn of 1785 (Op. ü).[ 3 ]
The popular judgment is usually founded on comparison, and a comparison with Haydn's quartets was even more obvious than usual on this occasion. The Emperor Joseph, who objected to Haydn's "tricks and nonsense" (Vol. II., MOZART AND KLOPSTOCK. p. 204), requested Dittersdorf in 1786 to draw a parallel between Haydn's and Mozart's chamber music. Dittersdorf answered by requesting the Emperor in his turn to draw a parallel between Klopstock and Gellert; whereupon Joseph replied that both were great poets, but that Klopstock must be read repeatedly in order to understand his beauties, whereas Gellert's beauties lay plainly exposed to the first glance. Dittersdorf's analogy of Mozart with Klopstock, Haydn with Gellert (!), was readily accepted by the Emperor, who further compared Mozart's compositions to a snuffbox of Parisian manufacture, Haydn's to one manufactured in London.[ 4 ] The Emperor looked at nothing deeper than the respective degrees of taste displayed by the two musicians, and could find no better comparison for works of art than articles of passing fancy; whereas the composer had regard to the inner essence of the works, and placed them on the same footing as those of the (in his opinion) greatest poets of Germany. However odd may appear to us—admiring as we do, above all things in Mozart, his clearness and purity of form—Dittersdorf s comparison of him with Klopstock, it is nevertheless instructive, as showing that his contemporaries prized his grandeur and dignity, and the force and boldness of his expression, as his highest and most distinguishing qualities. L. Mozart used also to say, that his son was in music what Klopstock was in poetry;[ 5 ] no doubt because Klopstock was to him the type of all that was deep and grand. But the public did not regard the new phenomenon in the same light; the quality they esteemed most highly in Haydn's quartets was their animated cheerfulness; and his successors, Dittersdorf, Pichl, Pleyel, had accustomed them even to lighter enjoyments. "It is a pity," says a favourable critic, in a letter from Vienna (January, 1787), "that in his truly artistic and beautiful compositions Mozart should carry his effort after originality too far, to the detriment of the sentiment and heart of his works. His new quartets, dedicated to Haydn, are much too highly spiced to be palatable for any length
of time."[ 6 ] Prince Grassalcovicz, a musical connoisseur of rank in Vienna,[ 7 ] had the quartets performed, as Mozart's widow relates,[ 8 ] and was so enraged at finding that the discords played by the musicians were really in the parts, that he tore them all to pieces—but Gyrowetz's symphonies pleased him very much. From Italy also the parts were sent back to the publisher, as being full of printer's errors, and even Sarti undertook to prove, in a violent criticism, that some of the music in these quartets was insupportable from its wilful offences against rule and euphony. The chief stumbling-block is the well-known introduction of the C major quartet—[See Page Image]
the harshness of which irritates the expectant ear. Its grammatical justification has been repeatedly given in learned analyses.[ 9 ] Haydn is said to have declared, during a dispute over this passage, that if Mozart wrote it so, he must have had his reasons for doing it[ 10 ]—a somewhat QUARTETS, 1785. ambiguous remark. Ulibicheff[ 11 ] undertook to correct the passage with the aid of Fétis,[ 12 ] and then considered it both fine and pleasing; and Lenz[ 13 ] declared that Mozart in "this delightful expression of the doctrine of necessary evil, founded on the insufficiency of all finite things" had produced a piquant, but not an incorrect passage. It is certain, at least, that Mozart intended to write the passage as it stands, and his meaning in so doing, let the grammatical construction be what it will, will not be obscure to sympathetic hearers. The C major quartet, the last of this first set, is the only one with an introduction. The frame of mind expressed in it is a noble, manly cheerfulness, rising in the andante to an almost supernatural serenity—the kind of cheerfulness which, in life or in art, appears only as the result of previous pain and strife. The sharp accents of the first and second movements, the struggling agony of the trio to the minuet, the wonderful depth of beauty in the subject of the finale, startling us by its entry, first in E flat and then in A flat major, are perhaps the most striking illustrations of this, but the introduction stands forth as the element which gives birth to all the happy serenity of the work. The contrast between the troubled, depressed phrase—[See Page Images]
has a direct effect upon the hearer; both phrases have one solution:—
and the shrill agitated one—[See Page Images]
The manner in which they are opposed to each other, and the devices by which their opposition is thrown into strong relief, are of unusual, but by no means unjustifiable, harshness. But the goal is not reached by one bound; no sooner does serenity seem to be attained than the recurrence of the b draws the clouds together again, and peace and the power of breathing and moving freely are only won by slow and painful degrees.[ 14 ]
Any difference of opinion as to this work at the present day can only exist with regard to minor details, and it will scarcely now be asserted by any one that "a piece may be recognised as Mozart's by its rapid succession of daring transitions."[ 15 ] We are accustomed to take our standard from Beethoven, and it seems to us almost incredible that a contemporary of Mozart's, the Stuttgart Hofmusicus, Schaul (who acknowledged, it is true, that he belonged to a time when nothing was heard but Italian operas and musicians), should exclaim:[ 16 ]—
What a gulf between a Mozart and a Boccherini! The former leads us over rugged rocks on to a waste, sparsely strewn with flowers; the latter through smiling country, flowery meadows, and by the side of rippling streams.
Apart from all differences of opinion or analogies with other works, it may safely be asserted that these quartets are the clear and perfect expression of Mozart's nature; nothing less is to be expected from a work upon which he put forth all his powers in order to accomplish something that would redound to his master Haydn's honour as well as his own. The form had already, in all its essential points, been determined by Haydn; it is the sonata form, already described, with the addition of the minuet—in this application a creation of Haydn's. Mozart appropriated these main MOZART'S AND HAYDN'S QUARTETS. features, without feeling it incumbent on him even to alter them. Following a deeply rooted impulse of his nature, he renounced the light and fanciful style in which Haydn had treated them, seized upon their legitimate points, and gave a firmer and more delicate construction to the whole fabric. To say of Mozart's quartets in their general features that, in comparison with Haydn's, they are of deeper and fuller expression, more refined beauty, and broader conception of form,[ 17 ] is only to distinguish these as Mozart's individual characteristics, in contrast with Haydn's inexhaustible fund of original and humorous productive power. Any summary comparison of the two masters must result in undue depreciation of one or the other, for nothing but a detailed examination would do full justice to them both and explain their admiration of each other. Two circumstances must not be left out of account. Mozart's quartets are few in number compared with the long list of Haydn's. Every point that is of interest in Mozart may be paralleled in Haydn; hence it follows that certain peculiarities found in Haydn's music are predominating elements in Mozart's. Again, Haydn was a much older man, and is therefore usually regarded as Mozart's predecessor; but the compositions on which his fame chiefly rests belong for the most part to the period of Mozart's activity in Vienna, and were not without important influence on the latter. This mutual reaction, so generously acknowledged by both musicians, must be taken into account in forming a judgment upon them.
The string quartet offers the most favourable conditions for the development of instrumental music, both as to expression and technical construction, giving free play to the composer in every direction, provided only that he keep within the limits imposed by the nature of his art. Each of the four combined instruments is capable of the greatest variety of melodic construction; they have the advantage over the piano in their power of sustaining the vibrations of the notes, so as to produce song-like effects; nor are they inferior MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. in their power of rapid movement. Their union enables them to fulfil the demands of complete harmonies, and to compensate by increase of freedom and fulness for the advantages which the pianoforte possesses as a solo instrument. The quartet is therefore particularly well adapted both for the polyphonic and the homophonie style of composition. The varieties of tone of the instruments among each other, and of each in different keys, further increases their capacity for expression, the nuances of tone-colouring appearing to belong to the nature of stringed instruments. Thus the material sound elements of the string quartet are singularly uniform, at the same time that they allow free scope to the individual movement of the component parts. The beginning of the andante of the E flat major quartet (428 K.) will suffice to show how entirely different an effect is given by a mere difference in the position of the parts. The value which Mozart set upon the uniformity of the naturally beautiful sound effects of stringed instruments may be inferred from the fact that he seldom attempted interference with it as a device for pleasing the ear. Pizzicato passages occur only three times—in the trio of the D minor quartet (421 K.), of the C major quintet (515 K.), and of the clarinet quintet (581 K.)—and each time as the gentlest form of accompaniment to a tender melody. He was not prone either to emphasise bass passages by pizzicato, and has done so only in the second adagio of the G minor quintet (516 K.) and in the first movement of the horn quintet (407 K.). Nor is the muting, formerly so frequent, made use of except in the first adagio of the G minor quartet and in the larghetto of the clarinet quintet. It need scarcely be said that an equal amount of technical execution and musical proficiency was presupposed in each of the performers. This is especially noticeable in the treatment of the violoncello. It is not only put on a level with the other instruments as to execution, but its many-sided character receives due recognition, and it is raised from the limited sphere of a bass part into one of complete independence.
The favourite comparison of the quartet with a conversation between four intellectual persons holds good in some MOZART'S STRING QUARTETS. degree, if it is kept in mind that the intellectual participation and sympathy of the interlocutors, although not necessarily languishing in conversation, are only audibly expressed by turns, whereas the musical embodiment of ideas must be continuous and simultaneous. The comparison is intended to illustrate the essential point that every component part of the quartet stands out independently, according to its character, but so diffidently that all co-operate to produce a whole which is never at any moment out of view; an effect so massive as to absorb altogether the individual parts would be as much out of place as the undue emphasising of any one part and the subordination of the others to it. The object to be kept continually in view is the blending of the homophonie or melodious, and the polyphonic or formal elements of composition to form a new and living creation. Neither is neglected; but neither is allowed to assert itself too prominently. Even when a melody is delivered by one instrument alone, the others do not readily confine themselves to a merely harmonic accompaniment, but preserve their independence of movement. Infallible signs of a master-hand are visible in the free and ingenious adaptation of the bass and the middle parts to the melodies; and, as a rule, the characteristic disposition of the parts gives occasion for a host of interesting harmonic details. The severer forms of counterpoint only appear in exceptional cases, such as the last movement of the first quartet, in G major (387 K.). The intention is not to work out a subject in a given form, but to play freely with it, presenting it from various interesting points of view by means of combinations, analysis, construction, and connection with fresh contrasting elements. But since this free play can only be accepted as artistic by virtue of the internal coherency of its component parts, it follows that the same laws which govern strict forms must lie at the root of the freer construction. In the same way a conversation—even though severe logical disputation may be studiously avoided—adheres to the laws of logic while letting fall here a main proposition, there a subordinate idea, and connecting apparent incongruities by means of association of ideas. A similar freedom in the grouping and MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. development of the different subjects exists in the quartet, limited only by the unity of artistic conception, and by the main principles of rhythmic and harmonic structure, and of the forms of counterpoint. This is most observable when an apparently unimportant phrase is taken up, and by its interesting development formed into an essential element of the whole, as in the first movement of the third quartet, in B flat major (458 K.), where a figure—[See Page Image]
at the close of a lengthy subject is first repeated by the instruments separately, with a mocking sort of air, and afterwards retained and treated as the germ of numerous freely developed images.
In publishing these six quartets together Mozart certainly did not intend them to be regarded in all their parts as one whole; his object was to bring to view the many-sidedness of expression and technical treatment of which this species of music was capable. The first quartet, in G major (387 K.), and the fourth, in E flat major (428 K.), have a certain relationship in their earnest and sustained tone; but how different is the expression of energetic decision in the first from that of contemplative reserve in the fourth; a difference most noticeable in the andantes of the two quartets. Again, in the third and fifth quartets, in B flat (458 K.) and A major (464 K.), the likeness in their general character is individualised by the difference in treatment throughout. The second quartet, in D minor (421 K.), and the sixth, in C major (465 K.), stand alone; the former by its affecting expression of melancholy, the latter by its revelation of that higher peace to which a noble mind attains through strife and suffering.
An equal wealth of characterisation and technical elaboration meets us in a comparison of the separate movements. The ground-plan of the first movement is the usual one, and the centre of gravity is always the working-out at the beginning of the second part, which is therefore distinguished by its length as a principal portion of the movement. The working-out of each quartet is peculiar to itself. In the two SIX QUARTETS, 1785. first the principal subject is made the groundwork, and combined with the subordinate subject closing the first part, but quite differently worked-out. In the G major quartet the first subject is spun out into a florid figure, which is turned hither and thither, broken off by the entry of the second subject, again resumed, only to be again broken off in order, by an easy play on the closing bar—[See Page Images]
to lead back again to the theme. In the D minor quartet, on the other hand, only the first characteristic division—[See Page Images]
of the broad theme is worked out as a motif; the next division somewhat modified—[See Page Images]
is imitated and adorned by the final figure:—[See Page Images]
The first part of the third quartet, in B flat major, has not the usual sharply accented second subject; the second part makes up for this in a measure by at once introducing a new and perfectly formed melody, followed by an easy play with a connecting passage—
this is invaded by the analogous motif of the first part—[See Page Images]
which brings about the return to the first part. The peculiar structure of the movement occasions the repetition of the second part, whereupon a third part introduces the chief subject anew, and leads to the conclusion in an independent MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. way. In the E flat major quartet the interest depends upon the harmonic treatment of an expressive triplet passage connected with the principal subject. The first subject of the fifth quartet, in A major, is indicated from the very beginning as a suitable one for imitative treatment, and very freely developed in the working-out section. In the last quartet in C major also, the treatment of the principal subject is indicated at once, but the importance of the modest theme is only made apparent by the harmonic and contrapuntal art of its working-out, leading to the expressive climax of the coda and the conclusion.
The slow movements of the quartets are the mature fruit of deep feeling and masterly skill. With fine discrimination the consolatory andante of the melancholy D minor quartet is made easy, but so managed as to express the character of ardent longing, both in the ascending passage—[See Page Image]
and in the tendency to fall into the minor key. The andante of the fourth quartet, in E flat major, forms a complete contrast to this. Its incessant harmonic movement only allows of pregnant suggestions of melodies, and is expressive of a self-concentrated mood, rousing itself with difficulty from mental abstraction. But the crown of them all in delicacy of form and depth of expression is the andante of the last quartet, in C major; it belongs to those wonderful manifestations of genius which are only of the earth in so far as they take effect upon human minds; which soar aloft into a region of blessedness where suffering and passion are transfigured.
The minuets are characteristic of Mozart's tendencies as opposed to Haydn's. The inexhaustible humour, the delight in startling and whimsical fancy, which form the essence of Haydn's minuets, occur only here and there in Mozart's. SIX QUARTETS, 1785. They are cast in a nobler mould, their distinguishing characteristics being grace and delicacy, and they are equally capable of expressing merry drollery and strong, even painful, emotion. Haydn's minuets are the product of a laughter-loving national life, Mozart's give the tone of good society. Especially well-defined in character are the minuets of the D minor and C major quartets—the former bold and defiant, the latter fresh and vigorous. Delicate detail in the disposition of the parts is common to almost all of them, keeping the interest tense and high, and there are some striking peculiarities of rhythmical construction. Among such we may notice the juxtaposition of groups of eight and ten bars, so that two bars are either played prematurely, as in the minuet of the first quartet, or inserted, as in the trio of the B flat major quartet.[ 18 ] The ten-bar group in the minuet of the D minor quartet is more complicated, because more intimately blended, and still more so is the rhythm of the minuet in the fourth quartet, where the detached unequal groups are curiously interlaced.[ 19 ] Very characteristic is also the sharp contrast between minuet and trio—as, for instance, the almost harshly passionate minor trios of the first and last quartets, and the still more striking major trio of the D minor quartet, light and glittering, like a smile in the midst of tears.
The finales have more meaning and emphasis than has hitherto been the case in Mozart's instrumental compositions. Three of them are in rondo form (those of the B flat, E flat, and C major quartet), quick, easy-flowing movements, rich in graceful motifs and interesting features in the working-out. The merriment in them is tempered by 1 a deeper vein of humour, and we are sometimes startled by a display of pathos, as in the finale of the C major quartet. The more cheerful passages are distinctly German in tone; and echoes of the "Zauberflote" may be heard in many of the melodies and turns of expression.
The last movement of the G major quartet is written in strict form, and highly interesting by reason of the elegance of its counterpoint; the finale of the A major quartet is freer and easier, but nevertheless polyphonic in treatment.[ 20 ] The D minor quartet concludes with variations, the original and long-drawn theme having the rhythmical and sharply accented harmonic form of the siciliana. It is in imitation of a national song, and is sometimes like a slow gigue, sometimes like a pastorale. The rhythm of the 6-8 time is somewhat peculiar, in that the first of three quavers is dotted throughout; the tone is soft and tender. There is a very similar siciliana in Gluck's ballet "Don Juan" (No. 2), showing how marked the typical character is.[ 21 ] The variations, which are as charming from their grace and delicacy of form as from their singular mixture of melancholy and mirth, bring this wonderful quartet to a close in a very original manner.
The middle movement of the A major quartet is also in variations—more earnest and careful on the whole—the precursor of the variations in Haydn's "Kaiser" and Beethoven's A major quartets. These quartet variations far surpass the pianoforte variations in character and workmanship; they consist not merely of a graceful play of passages, but of a characteristic development of new motifs springing from the theme.
The success of the quartets, on which Mozart put forth all his best powers, was scarcely sufficient to encourage him to make further attempts in the same direction; not until August, 1786, do we find him again occupied with a quartet (D major, 499 K.), in which may be traced an attempt to LATER QUARTETS, 1786-1790. meet the taste of the public without sacrificing the dignity of the quartet style. It is not inferior to the others in any essential point. The technical work is careful and interesting, the design broad—in many respects freer than formerly—the tone cheerful and forcible throughout, with the sentimental element in the background, as compared with the first quartets. The last movement approaches nearest to Haydn's humorous turn of thought, following his manner also in the contrapuntal elaboration of a lightly suggested motif into a running stream of merry humour. Nevertheless, this quartet remained without any immediate successor; it would appear that it met with no very general approval on its first appearance. "A short serenade, consisting of an allegro, romance, minuet and trio, and finale" in G major, composed August 10, 1787 (525 K.), does not belong to quartet music proper. The direction for violoncello, contrabasso, points to a fuller setting, which is confirmed by the whole arrangement, especially in the treatment of the middle parts. It is an easy, precisely worked-out occasional piece.
During his stay in Berlin and Potsdam in the spring of 1789 Mozart was repeatedly summoned to the private concerts of Frederick William II. of Prussia, in which the monarch himself took part as a violoncellist. He was a clever and enthusiastic pupil of Graziani and Duport, and he commissioned Mozart to write quartets for him, as he had previously commissioned Haydn[ 22 ] and Boccherini,[ 23 ] rewarding them with princely liberality. In June of this year Mozart completed the first of three quartets, composed for and dedicated to the King of Prussia, in D major (575 K.); the second, in B flat major (589 K.), and the third, in F major (590 K.), were composed in May and June, 1790. From letters to Puchberg, we know MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. that this was a time of bitter care and poverty, which made it a painful effort to work at the quartets, but there is even less trace of effort in them than in the earlier ones. The instrument appropriated to his royal patron is brought to the front, and made into a solo instrument, giving out the melodies in its higher notes. This obliges the viola frequently to take the bass part, altering the whole tone-colouring of the piece, and the instruments are altogether set higher than usual, the more so as the first violin constantly alternates with the violoncello. By this means the tone of the whole becomes more brilliant and brighter, but atones for this in an occasional loss of vigour and force. In other respects also, out of deference no doubt to the King's taste, there is more stress laid upon elegance and clearness than upon depth and warmth of tone. Mozart was too much of an artist to allow any solo part in a quartet to predominate unduly over the others; the first violin and violoncello leave the other two instruments their independent power of expression, but the motifs and working-out portions are less important, and here and there they run into a fanciful play of passages. It is singular that in the quartets in D and F major the last movements are the most important. When once the composer has thrown himself into the elaboration of his trifling motifs he grows warm, and, setting to work in good earnest, the solo instrument is made to fall into rank and file; the artist appears, and has no more thought of his presentation at court. The middle movements are very fine as to form and effect, but are without any great depth of feeling. The charming allegro of the second quartet, in F major, is easy and graceful in tone, and interesting from the elegance of its elaboration. In short, these quartets completely maintain Mozart's reputation for inventive powers, sense of proportion, and mastery of form, but they lack that absolute devotion to the highest ideal of art characteristic of the earlier ones.
Mozart's partiality for quartet-writing may be inferred from the many sketches which remain (68-75, Anh., K.), some of them of considerable length, such as that fragment of a lively movement in A major (68, 72, Anh., K.) consisting of 169 bars.
Duets and trios for stringed instruments were naturally held in less esteem than string quartets. Mozart composed in Vienna (September 27, 1788), for some unspecified occasion, a trio for violin, viola, and violoncello, in £ flat major (563 K.), which consists of six movements, after the manner of a divertimento—allegro, adagio, minuet, andante with variations, minuet, rondo. The omission of the one instrument increases the difficulty of composing a piece full in sound and characteristic in movement, more than could have been imagined; the invention and skill of the composer are taxed to the utmost. It is evident that this only gave the work an additional charm to Mozart. Each of the six movements is broadly designed and carried out with equal care and devotion, making this trio unquestionably one of Mozart's finest works. No one performer is preferred before the other, but each, if he does his duty, may distinguish himself in his own province. With wonderful discrimination, too, every technical device is employed which can give an impulse to any happy original idea. How beautifully, for instance, is the simple violoncello passage which ushers in the adagio—[See Page Images]
transformed into the emphatic one for the violin—
coined in due time, with climacteric effect, by the viola and violoncello. The violin-jumps in the same adagio—
are effective only in their proper position; and all the resources at command are made subservient to the art which is to produce the living work.
The variations demand special attention. The theme is suggestive of a national melody, and its effect is heightened by the different treatment of each part when repeated, which also gives fulness and variety to the variations. Each of these is artistically worked out in detail and of distinctly individual character; the last is especially remarkable, in which the viola, to a very lively figure, carries out the theme in its simplest enunciation as a true Cantus firmus. The whole impression is one of freshness and beauty of conception, elevated and enlivened by the difficulties which offered themselves. Nothing more charming can be imagined than the first trio of the second minuet; its tender purity charms us like that of a flower gleaming through the grass.
Haydn seems to have made no use of the increased resources offered by the quintet, although other musicians—Boccherini, for instance—cultivated this branch. It would appear to have been for some particular occasions that Mozart composed four great string quintets, in which he followed the track laid out in the first quartets. Two were composed in the spring of 1787, after his return from Prague—[ 24 ]
C major, composed April 19, 1787 (515 K.).
G major, composed May 16, 1787 (516 K.).—
the other two—
D major, composed December, 1790 (593 K.).
E flat major, composed April 12, 1791 (614 K.).—
at short intervals, "at the earnest solicitation of a musical friend," as the publisher's announcement declares.[ 25 ]
Mozart doubles the viola[ 26 ]—not like Boccherini in his 155 quintets, the violoncello[ 27 ]—whereby little alteration in tone, colour, or structure is effected. The doubling of the violoncello gives it a predominance which its very charm of tone THE QUINTET. renders all the more dangerous: whereas the strengthening of the less strongly accentuated middle parts by the addition of a viola gives freer scope for a lengthy composition. The additional instrument gives increase of freedom in the formation of melodies and their harmonic development, but it also lays on the composer the obligation of providing independent occupation for the enlarged parts. A chief consideration is the grouping of the parts in their numerous possible combinations. The first viola corresponds to the first violin as leader of melodies, while the second viola leaves the violoncello greater freedom of action; these parts share the melodies in twos or threes, either alternately or in imitative interweaving; the division of a motif as question and answer among different instruments is especially facilitated thereby. Again, two divisions may be placed in effective contrast, the violins being supported by a viola, or the violas by the violoncello. But the device first used by Haydn in his quartets, of giving two parts in octaves, is perhaps the most effective in the quintets, a threefold augmentation being even employed in the trio of the E flat major quintet (614 K.). Finally, it is easier to strengthen the violoncello by the viola here than it is in the quartet. It is not that all these resources are out of reach for the quartet, but that they find freer and fuller scope in the quintet. The effect of the quintet is not massive; it rests on the characteristic movement of the individual parts, and demands greater freedom in order that this movement of manifold and differing forces may be well ordered and instinct with living power. The increased forces require greater space for their activity, if only on account of the increased mass of sound. If the middle parts are to move freely without pressing on each other, the outer parts must be farther apart, and this has a decided influence on the melodies and the sound effects, the general impression becoming more forcible and brilliant. The dimensions must also be increased in other directions. A theme, to be divided among five parts, and a working-out which is to give each of them fair play, must be planned from the first. The original motif of the first Allegro of the C major quintet (515 K.)—[See Page Image] MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. involves of necessity the continuation of the idea enunciated; and only after a third repetition with modifications is it allowed to proceed to a conclusion. It has thus become too far developed to allow of a repetition of the whole theme; it starts again in C minor, is further developed by harmonic inflections; and after a short by-play on a tributary, it is again taken up and leads on to the second theme; we have thus a complete organic development of the first motif. The second theme is then of course carried out, and finally we have the broadly designed motif which brings the part to a conclusion in a gradually increasing crescendo for all the parts; the whole movement thus gains considerably in dimensions.
The motif of the first movement of the E flat major quintet (614 K.)—[See Page Image]
is precisely rendered. But it is the germ whence the whole movement is to spring; all beyond itself is suggested by this motif, and is important only in relation thereto. The unfettered cheerfulness which runs through the whole of the movement is expressed in these few bars, given by the violas like a call to the merry chase. The opening of the C major quintet prepares us in an equally decided manner for what is to follow. The decision and thoughtfulness which form the ground-tone of the whole movement, in spite of its lively agitation, are calmly and clearly expressed in the first few bars.
The G minor quintet begins very differently, with a complete melody of eight bars, repeated in a different key. Few MOZART'S G MINOR QUINTET. instrumental compositions express a mood of passionate excitement with such energy as this G minor quintet. We feel our pity stirred in the first movement by a pain which moans, sighs, weeps; is conscious in its ravings only of itself, refuses to take note of anything but itself, and finds its only consolation in unreasoning outbreaks of emotion, until it ends exhausted by the struggle. But the struggle begins anew in the minuet, and now there is mingled with it a feeling of defiant resentment, showing that there is some healthy force still remaining; in the second part a memory of happy times involuntarily breaks in, but is overcome by the present pain; then the trio bursts forth irresistibly, as if by a higher power, proclaiming the blessed certainty that happiness is still to be attained. One of those apparently obvious touches, requiring nevertheless the piercing glance of true genius, occurs when, after closing the minuet in the most sorrowful minor accents—[See Page Image]
Mozart introduces the trio with the same inflection in the major—
and proceeds to carry it out in such a manner that only a whispered longing may be detected underlying the gently dying sounds of peace. This turn of expression decides the further course of the development. The next movement, "Adagio ma non troppo, con sordini," gives us an insight into a mind deeply wounded, tormented with self-questionings; earnest reflection, doubt, resolve, outbreaks of smothered pain alternate with each other, until a yearning MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. cry for comfort arises, tempered by the confident hope of an answer to its appeal; and so the movement ends in the calm of a joyful peace instead of, as the first, in the silence of exhaustion. The conquered pain breaks out again in the introduction to the last movement, but its sting is broken—it dies away to make room for another feeling. The new émotion is not merely resignation, but joy—the passionate consciousness of bliss, just as inspired, just as restlessly excited as the previous pain. But the exultant dithyramb has not the same engrossing interest for the hearers; man is readier to sympathise with the sorrows of others than with their joys, although he would rather bear his sorrow alone than his joy. This complete change of mood may well excite a suspicion of fickleness, but it is not the less true that the anguish of the first movement, and the exultation of the last, belong to one and the same nature, and are rendered with absolute truth of artistic expression.
We turn involuntarily from the artist to the man after such a psychological revelation as this, and find traces of Mozart's nature unmistakably impressed on his work. But we may seek in vain for any suggestion of the work in his actual daily life. At the time when he wrote this quintet his circumstances were favourable, he had only lately returned from Prague covered with honour and substantial rewards, and he was enjoying an intercourse with the Jacquin family which must have been altogether pleasurable to him. It is true that he lost his father soon after (May 26), but a recollection of the letter which he addressed to him with the possibility of his death in view (Vol. II., p. 323), Mozart being at the time engaged on the C major quintet, will prevent our imagining that the mood of the G minor quintet was clouded by the thought of his father's approaching decease. The springs of artistic production flow too deep to be awakened by any of the accidents of life. The artist, indeed, can only give what is in him and what he, has himself experienced; but Goethe's saying holds good of the musician as well as of the poet or painter; he reveals nothing that he has not felt, but nothing as he felt it.
The main characteristics of the other quintets are calmer MOZART'S QUINTETS. and more cheerful, but they are not altogether wanting in energetic expression of passion. The sharper characterisation made necessary by the division of the music among a greater number of instruments was only possible by means of the agitation and restless movement of the parts, even when the tone of the whole was quiet and contained. We find therefore various sharp or even harsh details giving zest to the whole—such, for instance, as the use of the minor ninth and the comparatively frequent successions of ninths in a circle of fifths; and the quintets have apparently been a mine of wealth to later composers, who have made exaggerated use of these dangerous stimulants. Greater freedom of motion stands in close connection with the better defined characterisation of the quintets. Polyphony is their vital element; the forms of counterpoint became more appropriate as the number of parts increased. The finales to the Quintets in D and E flat Major (573, 614, K.) showed that Mozart was able to make use of the very strictest forms upon occasion. Both movements begin in innocent light-heartedness, but severe musical combinations are developed out of the airy play of fancy; ideas which have only been, as it were, suggested are taken up and worked out, severe forms alternate with laxer ones—one leads to the other naturally and fluently, and sometimes they are both made use of at the same time. The disposition of the parts is free, without any preconceived or definitive form, and its many delicate details of taste and originality give an individual charm to each separate part. The homophonie style of composition is not altogether disregarded for the polyphonic, but it is never made the determining element. Even a melody such as the second subject of the first movement of the G minor quintet, complete in itself as any melody can be, is made use of as a motif for polyphonic development. The freest and most elastic treatment of form is that of the last movements. The other movements are fully developed, and sometimes carried out at great length, but the main features are always distinct and well preserved; the outline of the finales is less firm, and capable of a lighter and more varied treatment.
Another branch of concerted music high in favour in Mozart's day was the so-called "Harmoniemusik," written exclusively for wind instruments, and for performance at table or as serenades. Families of rank frequently retained the services of a band for "Harmoniemusik" instead of a complete orchestra.[ 28 ] The Emperor Joseph selected eight distinguished virtuosi[ 29 ] for the Imperial "Harmonie," who played during meals, especially when these took place in the imperial pleasure-gardens. The performances included operatic arrangements as well as pieces composed expressly for this object.[ 30 ] Reichardt dwells on the enjoyment afforded him in 1783 by the Harmoniemusik of the Emperor and the Archduke Maximilian. "Tone, delivery, everything was pure and harmonious; some movements by Mozart were lovely; but unluckily nothing of Haydn's was performed."[ 31 ] First-class taverns supported their own "Harmonie" bands, in order that the guests might not be deprived of this favourite accompaniment to their meals.[ 32 ]
Besides the great serenades, intended for public performance, the old custom was still practised of writing "Standchen,"[ 33 ] for performance under the window of the person who was to be thus celebrated; and the general desire that such pieces should be new and original provided composers with almost constant employment on them.[ 34 ] Wind instruments were most in vogue for this "night-music." The instruments were usually limited to six—two clarinets, two horns, and two bassoons, strengthened SERENADES FOR WIND INSTRUMENTS. sometimes by two oboes. Such eight-part harmonies sufficed both the Emperor and the Elector of Cologne as table-music and for serenades; and at a court festival at Berlin in 1791 the music during the banquet was thus appointed.[ 35 ] The "Standchen," in "Cosi fan Tutte" (21), and the table-music, in the second finale of "Don Giovanni," are imitations of reality.
Mozart did not neglect the opportunities thus afforded him of making himself known during his residence in Vienna. He writes to his father (November 3, 1781):—
I must apologise for not writing by the last post; it fell just on my birthday (October 31), and the early part of the day was given to my devotions. Afterwards, when I should have written, a shower of congratulations came and prevented me. At twelve o'clock I drove to the Leopoldstadt, to the Baroness Waldstädten, where I spent the day. At eleven o'clock at night I was greeted by a serenade for two clarinets, two horns, and two bassoons, of my own composition. I had composed it on St. Theresa's day (October 15) for the sister of Frau von Hickl (the portrait-painter's wife), and it was then performed for the first time. The six gentlemen who execute such pieces are poor fellows, but they play very well together, especially the first clarinet and the two horns. The chief reason I wrote it was to let Herr von Strack (who goes there daily) hear something of mine, and on this account I made it rather serious. It was very much admired. It was played in three different places on St. Theresa's night. When people had had enough of it in one place they went to another, and got paid over again.
This "rather serious" composition is the Serenade in E flat major (375 K.), which Mozart increased by the addition of two oboes, no doubt in June, 1782, when he also wrote the Serenade in C minor for eight wind instruments (388 K., s.). He had at that time more than one occasion for works of this kind. The attention both of the Emperor and the Archduke Maximilian was directed towards him (Vol. II., p. 197); and since Reichardt heard compositions by Mozart at court in 1783, his attempt to gain Strack's good offices must have been successful. In the year 1782 Prince Liechtenstein was in treaty with Mozart concerning the arrangement of a Harmoniemusik (Vol. II., p. 206), and he MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. had undertaken with Martin the conduct of the Augarten concerts, which involved the production of four great public serenades (Vol. II., p. 283).
Both the serenades already mentioned are striking compositions, far above the ordinary level of their kind, and may be considered, both as to style and treatment, the precursors of modern chamber music. The first movement of the Serenade in E flat major had originally two parts, which Mozart afterwards condensed into one, giving it greater precision by the omission of lengthy repetitions. The addition of the oboes gives it greater fulness and variety; but it is easy to detect that they are additions to a finished work. The whole piece is of genuine serenade character. After a brilliant introductory phrase, a plaintive melody makes its unexpected appearance, dying away in a sort of sigh, but only to reassert itself with greater fervour. The amorous tone of the "Entführung" may be distinctly traced in the adagio, and through all its mazy intertwining of parts we seem to catch the tender dialogue of two lovers. The closing rondo is full of fresh, healthy joy; the suggestion of a national air in no way interferes with the interesting harmonic and contrapuntal working-out.[ 36 ] The Serenade in C minor is far from leaving the same impression of cheerful homage. The seriousness of its tone is not that of sorrow or melancholy, but, especially in the first movement, of strong resolution. The second theme is especially indicative of this, its expressive melody being further noteworthy by reason of its rhythmical structure. It consists of two six-bar phrases, of which the first is formed of two sections of three bars each:—[See Page Image]
After the repetition of this, the second phrase follows, formed from the same melodic elements, but in three sections of two bars each—[See Page Image] SERENADE IN C MINOR. and also repeated. On its first occurrence it forms a fine contrast to the passionate commencement, and lays the foundation for the lively and forcible conclusion of the first part, while in the second part its transposition into the minor prepares the way for the gloomy and agitated conclusion of the movement. The calmer mood of the andante preserves the serious character of the whole, without too great softness or languor of expression.
Mozart has perpetrated a contrapuntal joke in the minuet. The oboes and bassoons lead a two-part canon in octave, while the clarinets and horns are used as tutti parts. In the four-part trio the oboes and bassoons again carry out a two-part canon (al rovescio) in which the answering part exactly renders the rhythm and intervals, the latter, however, inverted:—[See Page Image]
Tricks of this kind should always come as this does, without apparent thought or effort, as if they were thrown together by a happy chance, the difficulties of form serving only to give a special flavour to the euphonious effect. The last movement, variations, passes gradually from a disquieted anxious mood into a calmer one, and closes by a recurrence to the subject in the major, with freshness and force.
This serenade is best known in the form of a quintet for stringed instruments, to which Mozart adapted it apparently before 1784 (506 K.). Nothing essential is altered—only the middle parts, accompaniment passages, &c., are somewhat modified. Some of the passages and movements, however, especially the andante and finale, have lost considerably by the altered tone-colouring.
Various divertimenti for wind instruments, which have been published under Mozart's name, have neither external nor internal signs of authenticity.[ 37 ] An Adagio in B flat major for two clarinets and three basset-horns (411 K.), concerning which little is known, stands alone of its kind.[ 38 ] The combination of instruments points here as elsewhere (Vol. II., pp. 361, 410) to some special, perhaps masonic occasion, the more so as a detached and independent adagio could only have been written with a definite object in view. The juxtaposition of instruments so nearly related, with their full, soft, and, in their deeper notes, sepulchral tones, produces an impression of solemnity, which is in accordance with the general facter of peace after conflict expressed by the adagio.
Mozart's works for wind instruments are distinguished by delicacy of treatment apart from virtuoso-like effects. Considering them, however, in the light of studies for the treatment of wind instruments as essential elements of the full orchestra, they afford no mean conception of the performances of instrumentalists from whom so much mastery of technical difficulties, delicacy of detail, and expressive delivery might be expected. Instrumental music had risen to great importance in Vienna at that time. A great number of available, and even distinguished musicians had settled there. Besides the two admirably appointed imperial orchestras, and the private bands attached to families of rank, there were various societies of musicians ready to form large or small orchestras when required; and public and private concerts were, as we have seen, of very frequent occurrence.
The appointment was, as a rule, weak, when judged by the standard of the present day. The opera orchestra contained one of each wind instrument, six of each violin, with four violas, three violoncelli, and three basses.[ 39 ] On particular occasions the orchestra was strengthened (Vol. II., p. 173), but most of the orchestral compositions betray by their treatment that they were not intended for large orchestras. The purity and equality of tone and the animated delivery of the Vienna orchestra is extolled by a contemporary, who seems to have been no connoisseur, but to have faithfully rendered the public opinion of the day.[ 40 ] Of greater weight is the praise of Nicolai, a careful observer, who compared the performances of the Vienna orchestra with those of other bands.[ 41 ] He asserted, when he heard the Munich orchestra soon after, that it had far surpassed his highly wrought expectations of Mannheim, and that he had been perfectly astonished at the commencement of an allegro.[ 42 ] It was not a matter of small importance, therefore, that Mozart should have learnt all that could be learnt from the orchestras of Mannheim, Munich, and Paris, and then found in Vienna the forces at command wherewith to perfect this branch of his art. In this respect he had a great advantage over Haydn, who had only the Esterhazy band at his disposal, and never heard great instrumental performances except during his short stays in Vienna.
Mozart had much to do with raising the Vienna orchestra, particularly in the wind instruments, to its highest pitch of perfection. Among contemporary composers, who strove to turn to the best account the advantages of a fuller instrumentation,
Haydn undoubtedly claims the first rank. It is his incontestable merit to have opened the way in his symphonies to the free expression of artistic individuality in instrumental music, to have defined its forms, and developed MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. them with the many-sidedness of genius; he did not, how-I ever, bequeath to Mozart, but rather received from him the well-appointed, fully organised, and finely proportioned orchestra of our day. In his old age Haydn once complained to Kalkbrenner that death should call man away before he has accomplished his life-long desires: "I have only learnt the proper use of wind instruments in my old age, and now I must pass away without turning my knowledge to account."[ 43 ]
The first of the seven Vienna symphonies is in D major (part 5, 384 K. (likely 385 K. DW)), and was composed by Mozart, at his father's wish, for a Salzburg fête in the summer of 1782. He wrote it under the pressure of numerous engagements in less than a fortnight, sending the movements as they were ready to his father (Vol. II., p. 211). No wonder that when he saw it again he was "quite surprised," not "remembering a word of it." For performance in Vienna (March 3, 1783) he reduced it to the usual four movements by the omission of the march and of one of the minuets, and strengthened the wind instruments very effectively in the first and last movement by flutes and clarinets.
A lively, festive style was called for by the occasion, and in the treatment of the different movements the influence of the old serenade form is still visible. The first allegro has only one main subject, with which it begins; this subject enters with a bold leap—[See Page Image]
and keeps its place to the end with a life and energy enhanced by harsh dissonances of wonderful freshness and vigour. The whole movement is a continuous treatment of this subject, no other independent motif occurring at all. The first part is therefore not repeated, the working-out section is short, and the whole movement differs considerably from the usual form of a first symphony movement. The andante is in the simplest lyric form, pretty and refined, but nothing more; the minuet is fresh and brilliant (Vol. I., p. 219).
The tolerably long drawn-out concluding rondo is lively and brilliant, and far from insignificant, though not equal to the first movement in force and fire.
A second symphony was written by Mozart in great haste on his journey through Linz in November, 1783; it was apparently that in C major (part 6, 425 K.), which with another short symphony in G major (part 6, 444 K.), bears clear traces of Haydn's influence, direct and indirect. (Note: By M. Haydn—the Introduction only by Mozart. DW)
Several years lie between these symphonies and the next in D major (part 1, 504 K.). This was written for the winter concerts on December 6, 1786, and met with extraordinary approbation, especially in Prague, where Mozart performed it in January, 1787[ 44 ]The first glance at the symphony shows an altered treatment of the orchestra; it is now fully organised, and both in combination and detail shows individual independence. The instrumentation is very clear and brilliant—here and there perhaps a little sharp—but this tone is purposely selected as the suitable one. Traces of Haydn's influence may be found in the prefixing of a solemn introduction to the first allegro, as well as in separate features of the andante; such, for instance, as the epigrammatic close; but in all essential points we have nothing but Mozart. The adagio is an appropriate preface for the allegro, which expresses in its whole character a lively but earnest struggle. In this allegro the form of a great symphony movement lies open before us. The chief subject is completely expressed at the beginning—[See Page Image] MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. and recurs after a half-close on the dominant with a characteristic figure—[See Page Image]
thus allowing of the independent development of section B. Then, after a complete close on the dominant, there enters the very characteristic and originally treated second subject; the close of the part is introduced by the figure, D, so that a member of the chief subject, A, is again touched upon. The working-out in the second part is founded on the third section of the chief subject, C. These two bars, which there formed only an intermediate passage, are here treated imitatively as an independent motif; first B, then D, are added as counter-subjects, all three are worked-out together, tributary subjects reappear from the first part, until the chief subject, A, enters on the dominant in D minor, leading the way for the other motifs, which press in simultaneously, and glide upon a long organ point gradually back to the first subject, with which the modified repetition of the first part begins. In this lengthy working-out every part of the main idea is fully developed. The simple enunciations of the first part appear, after the elaboration of their different elements like utterances of a higher power, bringing conviction and satisfaction to all who hear. The springlike charm of the andante, with all its tender grace, never degenerates into effeminacy; its peculiar character is given by the short, interrupted subject—[See Page Image]
which is given in unison or imitation by the treble part and the bass, and runs through the whole, different harmonic turns giving it a tone, sometimes of mockery, sometimes of thoughtful reserve. The last movement (for this symphony has no minuet) displays the greatest agitation and vivacity SYMPHONIES, 1788. without any license; in this it accords with the restraint which characterises the other movements. It illustrates the moderation of most of Mozart's great works, which, as Ambros ("Granzen der Musik und Poesie," p. 56) remarks, "is not a proof of inability to soar into a higher sphere, but a noble and majestic proportioning of all his forces, that so they may hold each other in equilibrium." The essence of the work, to borrow the aesthetic expression of the ancients, is ethic rather than pathetic; character, decision, stability find expression there rather than passion or fleeting excitement.
A year and a half passed before Mozart again turned his attention to the composition of symphonies; then, in the summer of 1788, within two months, he composed the three symphonies in E flat major (June 26), G minor (July 25), and C major (August 10)—the compositions which most readily occur to us when Mozart's orchestral works come under discussion. The production of such widely differing and important works within so short a space of time affords another proof that the mind of an artist works and creates undisturbed by the changing impressions of daily life, and that the threads are spun in secret which are to form the weft and woof of a work of art. The symphonies display Mozart's perfected power of making the orchestra, by means of free movement and songlike delivery, into the organ of his artistic mood. As Richard Wagner says:—
The longing sigh of the great human voice, drawn to him by the loving power of his genius, breathes from his instruments. He leads the irresistible stream of richest harmony into the heart of his melody, as though with anxious care he sought to give it, by way of compensation for its delivery by mere instruments, the depth of feeling and ardour which lies at the source of the human voice as the expression of the unfathomable depths of the heart.[ 45 ]
This result can only be attained by the most delicate appreciation of the various capacities of each individual instrument. The very diversity of tone-colouring which characterises these symphonies shows the masterly hand with which Mozart chooses and blends his tones, so that every detail shall come to full effect. It would not be easy to find places in which the sound-effect does not correspond with the intention; as he imagined it and willed it, so it sounds, and the same certainty, the same moderation, is apparent in every part of the artistic construction.
The Symphony in E flat major (543 K., part 3) is a veritable triumph of euphony. Mozart has employed clarinets here, and their union with the horns and bassoons produces that full, mellow tone which is so important an element in the modern orchestra; the addition of flutes gives it clearness and light, and trumpets endow it with brilliancy and freshness. It will suffice to remind the reader of the beautiful passage in the andante, where the wind instruments enter in imitation, or of the charming trio to the minuet, to make manifest the importance of the choice of tone-colouring in giving characteristic expression. We find the expression of perfect happiness in the exuberant charm of euphony, the brilliancy of maturest beauty in which these symphonies are, as it were, steeped, leaving such an impression as that made on the eye by the dazzling colours of a glorious summer day. How seldom is this unalloyed happiness and joy in living granted to mankind, how seldom does art succeed in reproducing it entire and pure, as it is in this symphony! The feeling of pride in the consciousness of power shines through the magnificent introduction, while the allegro expresses purest pleasure, now in frolicsome joy, now in active excitement, and now in noble and dignified composure. Some shadows appear, it is true, in the andante, but they only serve to throw into stronger relief the mild serenity of a G MINOR SYMPHONY, 1788. mind that communes with itself and rejoices in the peace which fills it. This is the true source of the cheerful transport which rules the last movement, rejoicing in its own strength and in the joy of being. The last movement in especial is full of a mocking joviality more frequent with Haydn than Mozart, but it does not lose its hold on the more refined and elevated tone of the preceding movements. This movement receives its peculiar stamp from its startling harmonic and rhythmical surprises. Thus it has an extremely comic effect when the wind instruments try to continue the subject begun by the violins, but because these pursue their way unheeding, are thrown out as it were, and break off in the middle. This mocking tone is kept up to the conclusion, which appears to Nägeli ("Vorlesungen," p. 158) "so noisily inconclusive" (so stillos unschliessend), "such a bang, that the unsuspecting hearer does not know what has happened to him."[ 46 ]
The G minor symphony affords a complete contrast to all this (550 K., part 2). Sorrow and complaining take the place of joy and gladness. The pianoforte quartet (composed August, 1785) and the Quintet (composed May 16, 1787) in G minor are allied in tone, but their sorrow passes in the end to gladness or calm, whereas here it rises in a continuous climax to a wild merriment, as if seeking to stifle care. The agitated first movement begins with a low plaintiveness, which is scarcely interrupted by the calmer mood of the second subject;[ 47 ] the working-out of the second part intensifies the gentle murmur—[See Page Image] MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. into a piercing cry of anguish; but, strive and struggle as it may, the strength of the resistance sinks again into the murmur with which the movement closes. The andante, on the contrary, is consolatory in tone; not reposing on the consciousness of an inner peace, but striving after it with an earnest composure which even attempts to be cheerful.[ 48 ] The minuet introduces a new turn of expression. A resolute resistance is opposed to the foe, but in vain, and again the effort sinks to a moan. Even the tender comfort of the trio, softer and sweeter than the andante, fails to bring lasting peace; again the combat is renewed, and again it dies away, complaining. The last movement brings no peace, only a wild merriment that seeks to drown sorrow, and goes on its course in restless excitement. This is the most passionate of all Mozart's symphonies; but even in this he has not forgotten that "music, when expressing horrors, must still be music" (Vol. II., p. 239).[ 49 ] Goethe's words concerning the Laocoon are applicable here ("Werke" XXIV., p. 233): "We may boldly assert that this work exhausts its subject, and fulfils every condition of art. It teaches us that though the artist's feeling for beauty may be stirred by calm and simple subjects, it is only displayed in its highest grandeur and dignity when it proves its power of depicting varieties of character, and of throwing moderation and control into its representations of outbreaks of human passion." And in the same sense in which Goethe ventured to call the Laocoon graceful, none can deny the grace of this symphony, in spite of much harshness and C MAJOR SYMPHONY. keenness of expression.[ 50 ] The nature of the case demands the employment of quite other means to those of the E flat major symphony. The outlines are more sharply defined and contrasted, without the abundant filling-in of detail which are of such excellent effect in the earlier work, the result being a greater clearness, combined with a certain amount of severity and harshness. The instrumentation agrees with it; it is kept within confined limits, and has a sharp, abrupt character. The addition of clarinets for a later performance gave the tone-colouring greater intensity and fulness. Mozart has taken an extra sheet of paper, and has rearranged the original oboe parts, giving characteristic passages to the clarinets, others to the oboes alone, and frequently combining the two. No clarinets were added to the minuet. Again, of a totally distinct character is the last symphony, in C major (551 K., part 4), in more than one respect the greatest and best, although neither so full of passion as the G minor symphony, nor so full of charm as the E flat major.[ 51 ] Most striking is the dignity and solemnity of the whole work, manifested in the brilliant pomp in the first movement, with its evident delight in splendid sound-effects.:
It has no passionate excitement, but its tender grace is heightened by a serenity which shines forth most unmistakably in the subject already alluded to (Vol. II., p. 455, cf. p. 334), which occurs unexpectedly at the close of the first part. The andante reveals the very depths of feeling, with traces in its calm beauty of the passionate agitation and strife from which it proceeds; the impression it leaves is one of moral strength, MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. perfected to a noble gentleness. The minuet recalls to mind the cheerful subject of the first movement. There is an elastic spring in its motion, sustained with a delicacy and refinement which transports the hearer into a purer element, where he seems to exist without effort, like the Homeric gods. The finale is that masterpiece of marvellous contrapuntal art, which leaves even upon the uninitiated the impression of a magnificent princely pageant, to prepare the mind for which has been the office of the previous movements. We recognise in the principal subject which opens the movement—[See Page Images]
the motif of which Mozart made frequent use even in his youth (Vol. I., p. 259); here he seems anxious to bid it a final farewell. He takes it again as a fugue subject, and again inverted:—
Then other motifs join in. One, in pregnant rhythm—
asserting itself with sharp accents in all sorts of different ways, and connected with a third motif as a concluding section:—
All these subjects are interwoven or worked out with other subordinate ideas, both as independent elements for SYMPHONIES. contrapuntal elaboration, and in two, three, or fourfold combinations, bringing to pass harmonic inflections of great force and boldness, sometimes even of biting harshness. There is scarcely a phrase, however insignificant, which does not make good its independent existence.[ 52 ] A searching analysis is out of the question in this place; such an analysis would serve, however, to increase our admiration of the genius which makes of strictest form the vehicle for a flow of fiery eloquence, and spreads abroad glory and beauty without stint.[ 53 ]
The perfection of the art of counterpoint is not the distinguishing characteristic of this symphony alone, but of them all. The enthralling interest of the development of each movement in its necessary connection and continuity consists chiefly in the free and liberal use of the manifold resources of counterpoint. The ease and certainty of this mode of expression makes it seem fittest for what the composer has to say. Freedom of treatment penetrates every component part of the whole, producing the independent, natural motion of each. The then novel art of employing the wind instruments in separate and combined effects was especially admired by Mozart's contemporaries. His treatment of the stringed instruments showed a progress not less advanced, as, for instance, in the free treatment of the basses, as characteristic as it was melodious. The highest quality of the symphonies, however, is their harmony of tone-colour, the healthy combination of orchestral sound, which is not to be replaced by any separate effects, however charming. In this combination consists the art of making the orchestra as a living organism express the artistic idea which gives the creative impulse to the work, and controls the forces which are always ready to be set in motion. An unerring conception of the capacities for development MOZART'S INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC. contained in each subject, of the relations of contrasting and conflicting elements, of the proportions of the parts composing the different movements,[ 54 ] and of the proportions of the movements to the whole work; finally, of the proper division and blending of the tone-colours—such are the essential conditions for the production of a work of art which is to be effective in all its parts.
Few persons will wish to dispute the fact that Mozart's great symphonies display the happiest union of invention and knowledge, of feeling and taste. We have endeavoured also to show in brief outline that they are the characteristic expression of a mind tuned to artistic production, whence their entire organisation of necessity proceeds. But language, incapable of rendering the impressions made by the formative arts, is still more impotent in seeking to reproduce the substance of a musical work.[ 55 ] Points that can be readily apprehended are emphasised disproportionately; and the subjectivity of the speaker or writer intrudes itself upon the consideration of the music. It has been lately questioned, for instance, whether Mozart's compositions were the absolute and necessary results of certain definite frames of mind, and a comparison has been made between him and Beethoven upon this point. If it is intended by this to draw attention to Beethoven's art, as proceeding from his spiritual being (Geist), in contrast to that of earlier composers—of Mozart especially—which came from the mind (Seele),[ 56 ] an important point is indicated. But if this distinction is made exhaustive, or essentially qualitative, the right point of view is thereby disturbed. There can be no doubt that Beethoven has struck chords in the human mind which none before him had touched—that THE RIGHT MEANING OF THE SYMPHONIES. he employs the means at his command with a power and energy of expression unheard before; that by him—the true son of his time—the strife of passions and the struggle for individual freedom are more powerfully and unhesitatingly expressed than by any of his predecessors. But human nature remains the same, and the genuine impulses of artistic creation proceed from universal and unalterable laws; the artist does but impress his individual stamp upon the composing elements of his work; and if, under certain circumstances, this should fail to be comprehended, it does not therefore follow that the work has no meaning.[ 57 ] For neither can the form and the substance of a veritable work of art be divided or substituted the one for the other, nor can such a work take effect as a whole when it is not accepted and grasped in all its parts.[ 58 ] It is this wholeness, this oneness, which brings the mind of the artist most clearly before us. Let it be remembered that Mozart's contemporaries dis-; covered an exaggerated expression of emotion and an incomprehensible depth of characterisation in those very compositions in which our age recognises dignified moderation, pure harmony, perfect beauty, and a graceful treatment of form sometimes even to the loss of intrinsic force; and it will be acknowledged that much which was supposed to depend on the construction of the work lies really in the changing point of view of the hearers. Those only who come to the consideration of the work with a clear and unbiased mind, taking their standard from the universal and unchangeable laws of art—those only who are capable of grasping the individuality of an artistic nature, will not go astray either in their appreciation or their criticism.
CHAPTER XXXV. MOZART AS AN OPERA COMPOSER.
THE unexampled success of the "Entführung," which brought fame to the composer and pecuniary gain to the theatrical management, justified Mozart in his expectation that the Emperor, having called German opera into existence,[ 1 ] would commission him to further its prosperous career. He was indeed offered an opera, but the libretto, ''Welches ist die beste Nation?" was such miserable trash, that Mozart would not waste his music on it. Umlauf composed it, but it was hissed off the stage; and Mozart wrote to his father (December 21, 1782) that he did not know whether the poet or the composer were most deserving of the condemnation the work received. In fact, the impulse given to German opera seemed only too likely to die away without lasting result. Stephanie the younger[ 2 ] contrived by his intrigues to obtain the dismissal of Müller as conductor of the opera, and the appointment of a committee, whose jealousies and party feelings he turned so skilfully to account that they were all speedily satisfied to leave the actual power in his hands. The incessant disagreements which were the consequence, the hostility between composers, actors, and musicians, disgusted Kienmayer and Rosenberg, the managers of the opera, and the Emperor himself. Nor were the repeated experiments made with the works of mediocre THE OPERA IN VIENNA. composers (which so enraged Mozart that he purposed writing a critique on them with examples) likely to find favour with the Emperor. Add to this that his immediate musical surroundings, Salieri at the head of them, were at least passively opposed to German opera, and it will not be thought surprising that the Emperor Joseph angrily renounced German opera, and followed his own taste in the reinstalment of the Italian. Chance brought this determination to a point. A French company of considerable merit, both in opera and the drama, was performing at the Kamthnerthortheater, and was patronised by the Emperor.[ 3 ] He sent for the performers to Schönbrunn in the summer of
1782, and entertained them in the castle during their stay. They were dissatisfied with the hospitality they there received, and one of the actors had the ill-breeding, during a meal at which the Emperor happened to come in, to offer him a glass of wine, with the request that he would try it, and say whether such wretched Burgundy was good enough for them to drink. The Emperor drank the wine, and answered that it was good enough for him, but he had no doubt they would find better wine in France.[ 4 ]
On the dismissal of this company, Count Rosenberg was commissioned to engage the best singers in Italy, male and female, for an opera buffa, which was all that was then thought feasible; and at the end of the carnival of 1783 the German opera company was dissolved, its best members associating themselves with the new Italian company.[ 5 ] Under these circumstances there was not much hope of success for German operatic compositions; and only three new pieces were produced in 1783, none of them with any success.[ 6 ] Mozart wrote to his father (February 5, 1783):—
Yesterday my opera was given for the seventeenth time with the usual applause, and to a crowded house. Next Friday a new opera is to be given, the music an absurdity (Galimathias) by a young pupil of Wagenseil's
(Joh. Mederitsch), called "Gallus cantans in abore sedens gigirigi faciens." It will probably fail, but perhaps not so completely as its predecessor, an old opera by Gassmann," "La Notte Critica" ("The Disturbed Night"), which was scarcely brought to a third performance. Before this there was Umlaufs execrable opera, which only reached a second. It is as though, knowing that German opera is to die after Easter, they wanted to hasten its end by their own act: and they are Germans—confound them!—who do this. My own opinion is, that Italian opera will not survive long, and I shall always hold to the German; I prefer it, although it is certainly more trouble. Every nation has its opera, why should we Germans not have ours? Is not our language as fit for singing as the French and English? and more so than the Russian? Well, I am writing a German opera all for myself.
I have chosen as subject Goldoni's comedy "Il Servitore di Due Padroni," and the first act is already translated—the translator being Baron Binder! But it is to be a secret until it is finished. Now, what do you think of that? Don't you think that I shall do myself some good by it?
There can be little doubt that his father would have answered this question in the affirmative, but he would have been more sceptical as to the feasibility of the plan, and practical considerations seem to have caused its abandonment. Two German airs, preserved in draft score, belong by their handwriting to this period; one for a tenor (indicated as Carl), "Müsst ich auch durch tausend Drachen" (435 K.), and the other for a bass (Wahrmond), "Manner suchen stets zu naschen" (433 K.). No dramatic situation is recognisable, and it cannot therefore be affirmed that they were composed for this opera. The composition of a German opera for which he afterwards received a commission from Mannheim came to nothing. Klein sent him a libretto (doubtless "Rudolf von Habsburg")[ 7 ] with the request that he would set it to music, whereupon Mozart answered (March 21, 1785):[ 8 ]—
I ought certainly to have acknowledged before now the receipt of your letter and the accompanying parcel; but it is not the case that I have in the meantime received two other letters from you; if so, I should certainly have remembered to answer your first as I now do, having received your other two letters on the last post-day. But I should have had no more to say to you on the subject of the opera than I now have. My dear sir, my hands are so full of work that I have not a moment to myself. You know by experience, even better than I, that a thing of this sort must be read carefully and attentively several times over. Hitherto I have not been able to read it once without interruption. All that I can say at present is, that I should like to keep the piece a little longer, if you will be kind enough to leave it with me. In case I should feel disposed to set it to music, I should wish to know beforehand whether it is intended for performance at any particular place? For such a work ought not to be left to chance. I shall hope for an explanation on this point from you.
The reasons for the final rejection of this opera are unknown. Mozart's account of the position of German opera in Vienna is very characteristic. In 1784, it was almost extinct; only Madame Lange selected the "Entführung" for her benefit on January 25, conducted by Mozart himself (Wiener Zeitung, 1784, No. 7); and Adamberger gave Gluck's "Pilgrimme von Mecca" on February 15. Besides these, Benda's melodramas, "Ariadne" and "Medea," Jacquet's chief characters, were performed a few times. But when in the following year the desire for German opera revived, it was decided to reappoint the Kamthnerthortheater, which had been freed from its connection with the court, and to reinstate the German opera in competition with the Italian. On this point Mozart continues:—
I can give you no present information as to the intended German opera, as (with the exception of the alterations at the Karnthnerthor-theater) everything goes on very quietly. It is to be opened at the beginning of October. I do not prophesy a very prosperous result. It seems to me that the plans now formed are more likely to end in the final overthrow of the temporarily depressed German opera, than in its elevation and support. My sister-in-law Lange alone is to be allowed to join the German company. Cavalieri, Adamberger, Teyber, all pure Germans, of whom our fatherland may be proud, are to stay in the Italian theatre, to oppose and rival their own countrymen. German singers at present may be easily counted! And even if they be as good MOZART AS AN OPERA COMPOSER. as those I have named, which I very much doubt, the present management appears to me too economical and too little patriotic to think of paying the services of strangers, when they can have as good or better on the spot. The Italian troupe has no need of them in point of numbers; it can stand alone. The present idea is to employ acteurs and actrices for the German opera who sing from need; unfortunately the very men are retained as the directeurs of the theatre and the orchestra who have contributed by their want of knowledge and energy to the downfall of their own edifice. If only a single patriot were to come to the fore, it would give the affair another aspect. But in that case, perhaps, the budding national theatre would break forth into blossom; and what a disgrace it would be to Germany if we Germans once began in earnest to think, or act, or speak and even—to sing German! Do not blame me, my dear sir, if I go too far in my zeal. Convinced that I am addressing a fellow German, I give my tongue free course, which unfortunately is so seldom possible that after such an outpouring of the heart one feels that one might get drunk without any risk of injuring one's health.
The performances of the new German opera, which opened on October 16, 1785, with Monsigny's "Félix," were in no respect equal to those of the Italian opera. Mozart, whose "Entführung" maintained its place in the repertory until March, 1788, when the house was again closed, was not further employed as composer.[ 9 ] Only on one occasion did the Emperor seem to recollect that Mozart was the only opera composer of German birth who could rival the Italian Salieri. At a "Festival in honour of the Governor-General of the Netherlands," dramatic performances were commanded by the Emperor in the Orangery at Schönbrunn, on February 7, 1796; the most distinguished actors and singers, both Italian and German, were engaged.[ 10 ] Stephanie junior was commissioned to prepare the German occasional DER SCHAUSPIELDIRECTOR, 1786. piece; it was called "Der Schauspieldirector."[ 11 ] The dramatis persona were as follows:—[See Page Image]
The plot consists in the difficulties of Frank, the manager, in engaging a company for a theatre he has received permission to open in Salzburg. Many actors and actresses offer their services, and perform favourite scenes by way of testing their ability, the piece concluding with a similar trial of operatic music. The piece was loosely put together, and its main interest consisted in allusions to the passing events in the theatrical world; these are sometimes too palpable and rather coarse. Casti's little Italian opera, written for the same occasion, "Prima la Musica e poi le Parole" is, on the contrary, really witty and amusing, and allows the composer scope for a genuine musical work. Salieri, whose music, according to Mozart, was tolerable, but nothing more,[ 12 ] thus gained a great advantage over Mozart, to whom was entrusted the musical portion of the German piece. There could here, of course, be no question of dramatic interest and individual characterisation. The two singers bring their airs with them as prepared trials of skill. The object was to mark the contrast between them. The two songs are alike in design, with one slow and one agitated movement, and they further resemble each other in their mixture of sentimentality and gaiety, and in the number of bravura passages, MOZART AS AN OPERA COMPOSER. which sometimes go to a considerable height. It is in the details that everything is different, even to the instrumentation, and that the sharpest possible contrast is maintained both in the parts and style of delivery. There is no great liveliness of movement until—the manager being perplexed to make his choice between the two—they fall to quarrelling, each of them reiterating with increasing warmth: "Ich bin die beste Sangerin." Thereupon the tenor comes to the rescue, and seeks to allay the irritation of the enraged ladies, giving occasion for a comic terzet full of life and humour. This was composed by Mozart, probably because it amused him, on January 18, 1786, although the play was not finished until February 3. Although the situation in itself cannot be said to possess much interest, there is a certain charm in the piece, and the forms which are usually only of artistic significance have here a substantial basis. The imitations with which the singers follow on each other's heels, the passages in which they run up to a fabulous height, the alternation of rapid parlando with affected delivery and extraordinary passages—all these not only take effect as means of dramatic characterisation, but give the hearers the pleasure of deciding for themselves which of the two aspirants really is the best singer. The peacemaking tenor attaches., himself now to one, now to the other singer, and then again opposes them both, giving a certain amount of dignity to the dispute by means of musical and dramatic contrasts. Indeed the whole scene is so lively, so gay, so free from caricature, and so euphonious, that the terzet may well claim a place with more important works. The concluding operatic piece is a vaudeville. Each solo voice delivers a verse of the song, passing with characteristic modifications into the principal motif, which takes the form of a chorus. The bass voice comes last; the actor Buf gives his decision for the first buffo. This was Lange, who himself used to say that he could only make a singer at need (Selbtsbiographie, p. 126), and who thus ironically parodied his own words.
Mozart also wrote an overture to the piece, in which, less bound by the triviality of the text, he could move more DER SCHAUSPIELDIRECTOR, 1786. freely. It consists of a single movement in quick time. The first bars—[See Page Image]
fall at once into the tone of the whole, and form in their contrasting elements the motifs which are afterwards intersected in the working-out. The two subsequent better-sustained melodies possess in their easy imitative movement, the charm of a lively, excited conversation, the transition passage forming a piquant contrast; in short, the whole overture resembles a comedy with the different characters and intrigues crossing each other, until at last all ends well. The whole festival was twice repeated at the Kamthnerthortheater soon after the performance at Schönbrunn.[ 13 ]
Several later attempts were made to give the piece more action and more music, so as to preserve Mozart's work on the stage.
When Goethe undertook the management of the court theatre at Weimar in 1791, numerous Italian and French operas were arranged to German words by the indefatigable concertmeister Kranz and the industrious theatrical poet, Vulpius.[ 14 ] Goethe, being in Rome in the summer of 1787, was extremely amused by the performance of an intermezzo, "L' Impresario in angustie,"[ 15 ] which Cimarosa had composed in the Carnival of the previous year (at the same time as Mozart's "Schauspieldirector") for the Teatro Nuovo at Naples.[ 16 ] He at once had it arranged as a comic opera, with the title of "Theatralische Abenteuer," and the whole of the music to Mozart's "Schauspieldirector" introduced.[ 17 ]
It was performed at Weimar on October 24,1791, with great success, and afterwards repeated with alterations[ 18 ] on other stages during a considerable time.
In Vienna, after the operetta had again been thrice performed in 1797, an experiment was made in 1814 with an increased adaptation by Stegmeyer, but without lasting success.[ 19 ] Within the last few years L. Schneider has made a false step in the publication of the "Schauspieldirector, or Mozart und Schikaneder."[ 20 ] Wishing to preserve Mozart's music free from foreign contact, he chose out some songs, which were suitably instrumentalised by Taubert, and fitted fairly well into the new piece.[ 21 ] But in order to give the plot more interest he fell into the unpardonable error of making Mozart himself the hero of the opera, composing the "Zauberflöte"
under Schikaneder's direction. It is incredible that any one should have been capable of thus misrepresenting the master whom the resuscitation of his music was intended to honour, as a senseless, infatuated coxcomb, contemptible both in his obsequious submission to Schikaneder and his immoral relations with his sister-in-law, Aloysia Lange. In 1856 Mozart's operetta was given in Paris at the Bouffes Parisiens with great success; but with what adaptations I am not aware.
Mozart was altogether deceived in his expectation that the Italian opera would not find favour with the public. Joseph made himself acquainted through Salieri with all the most distinguished artists whom the latter had heard in Italy (Mosel, Salieri, p. 75), and gave him full power to engage those he thought fit; he even made this a special object of his own journey through Italy. He thus succeeded in bringing together a personnel for opera buffa, which through a long series of years, with various changes, was unsurpassed in the REVIVAL OF ITALIAN OPERA, 1783. unanimous opinion of the public and connoisseurs.[ 22 ] The already mentioned Vienna singers who went over to the Italian opera, Lange, Cavalieri, and Teyber, were joined by Bemasconi, already past her prime, in honour of whom Gluck's "Iphigenie in Tauris" was performed in Italian, in December, 1783.[ 23 ] From Italy came Nancy Storace, Mandini, and afterwards Celestine Coltellini. Of the German male singers they had indeed dismissed Fischer, whose loss Mozart rightly declared to be irreparable, but in Benucci they acquired a bass buffo of the first rank. True, he left Vienna the same year, but Marchesini, who replaced him, was not nearly so popular, and Benucci was recalled the following year. The baritones were Mandini, Bussani, and Pugnetti, together with the tenor, O'Kelly (Kelly), and the Germans, Adamberger, Saal, and Ruprecht. On April 22, 1783, the Italian opera was opened with Salieri's newly adapted opera "La Scuola dei Gelosi."[ 24 ] It was a decided success, and was repeated twenty-five times, although a cold criticism of the opening night asserts: "The prima donna sang extremely well, but her gesticulation is intolerable. The buffo bore away the palm for natural acting. The other performers are unworthy of notice."[ 25 ] The next opera, by Cimarosa, "L' Italiana in Londra" (May 5), was not so well received; but on the other hand Sarti's opera, "Fra due Litiganti il Terzo Gode" (May 25) excited extraordinary enthusiasm.[ 26 ] Schroder writes on July 26, 1783: "The Italian opera is much sought after, and the German MOZART AS AN OPERA COMPOSER. theatre is empty."[ 27 ] Earnestly as Mozart desired to be employed upon a German opera, he could not fail to be excited by the performances and success of the Italian opera, and his overpowering love of the drama urged him again to employ his genius in the field best fitted for its efforts. He writes to his father (May 7, 1783):—
The Italian opera has recommenced, and pleases very much. The buffo, named Benucci, is particularly good. I have looked through at least a hundred (indeed more) ibretti, but cannot find one satisfactory—that is, unless much were to be altered. And a poet would often rather write a new one than alter—indeed the new one is sure to be better. We have here a certain Abbate da Ponte as poet; he is driven frantic with the alterations he has to make for the theatre; he is, per obligo, employed on a new libretto for Salieri, and will be at least two months over it;[ 28 ] then he has promised to do something new for me. But who knows whether he can or will keep his word? You know how fair-spoken the Italians are! If he tells Salieri about it, I shall get no opera as long as I live—and I should like to show what I can do in Italian music. Sometimes I have thought that if Varesco does not bear malice on account of the Munich opera he might write me a new book for seven characters—but you know best if that can be done. He might be writing down his ideas, and we could work them out together in Salzburg. The essential point is that the whole thing should be very comic and, if possible, that it should have two good female parts—one seria, the other mezzo carattere, but both equal in importance. The third female might be quite buffa, and all the male parts if necessary. If you think anything can be done with Varesco, please speak to him very soon.
By way of inducement to Varesco, he sent him word that he might reckon on a fee of four or five hundred gulden, for that it was customary in Vienna to give the poet the receipts of the third representation. Some time after he asks again (June 7, 1783)
Do you know nothing of Varesco? I beg you not to forget; if I were in Salzburg we could work at it together so well, if we had a plan ready prepared.
Before Mozart went to Salzburg he had an instance of what he might expect in the opposition made to the insertion of his two airs for Adamberger and Madame Lange in L' OCA DEL CAIRO, 1783. Anfossi's "Curioso Indiscreto" (Vol. II., p. 326). On his arrival in Salzburg at the end of July, he found Varesco quite ready for the undertaking, which was to begin at once, and to be completed in Salzburg.
Among Mozart's remains were found in Varesco's handwriting the first act complete, and the prose table of contents in detail of the second and third acts of the opera "L' Oca del Cairo" ("The Goose of Cairo"). The dramatis personæ are as follows:—
The contents are briefly these:—
Don Pippo, Marchese di Ripasecca, a vain and haughty fool, has by his ill-treatment forced his wife, Donna Pantea, to leave him; he believes her dead, but she is living, concealed at a place over the seas. Biondello, hated by him, loves his daughter Celidora, whom he intends to marry to Count Lionetto di Casavuota; he himself has fallen in love with her companion Lavina, who has come to an understanding with Calandrino, Biondello's friend and Pantea's relative. The two maidens are confined in a fortified tower and closely guarded. In full conviction of his security, Don Pippo has been induced to promise Biondello that if he succeeds in gaining access to Celidora within the year, her hand shall be his reward. Hereupon, Calandrino, a skilful mechanic, has constructed an artificial goose large enough to contain a man, and with machinery capable of motion; this is conveyed to Pantea, who, disguised in Moorish costume, is to display it as a show; it is hoped that Pippo may consent to its exhibition before the two maidens, and that Biondello may thus be conveyed into the tower. As a condition Calandrino exacts from his friend a promise of Lavina's hand.
The opera begins on the anniversary of the wager. Don Pippo is about to marry Lavina, and awaits the arrival of Count Lionetto; his house is filled with preparations for festivity. The curtain rises on the whole household, including the coquettish maid Auretta and her lover the house-steward, Chichibio, having their hair dressed. Calandrino MOZART AS AN OPERA COMPOSER. enters in much perturbation; Pantea has not arrived, and a violent storm gives rise to the fear that she may fail altogether; some other device must be hit upon. He promises marriage to Chichibio and Auretta, if they can succeed in abstracting Don Pippo's clothes, and preventing his leaving the castle, which they undertake. The scene changes: Celidora and Lavina are conversing on a terrace on the fourth story of the tower, to which they have obtained access in secret; the lovers appear below on the other side of the moat, and a tender quartet is carried on. The new plan is to throw a bridge across the moat and scale the tower. Workmen arrive and the task is eagerly commenced; but Chichibio and Auretta, chattering about their marriage, have failed to keep watch, and now announce that Don Pippo has gone out; he himself speedily appears, summons the watch, stops the work, and drives away the lovers.
In the second act Pantea lands with the goose in a violent storm. It is a fair-day, and the assembled people are full of amazement at the natural and rational movements of the goose, which is supposed to come from Cairo. Auretta and Chichibio inform Don Pippo of the wonderful sight. He causes Pantea to come forward, and she informs him that the goose having lost its speech from fright during the storm can only be restored by the use of a certain herb growing in a lonely garden. Don Pippo, delighted, commissions Calandrino to take Pantea and the goose into the pleasure-garden, that so the two maidens may enjoy the spectacle. The finale represents the fair close to the tower, the two ladies looking on from the window. A dispute arises, in which Biondello takes part; Don Pippo, as magistrate, is called on to do justice; some ridiculous action is carried on, ending in a general tumult. Pantea then puts Biondello into the goose and enters the garden, while Calandrino informs Don Pippo that Biondello, in despair, has set out to sea in a small boat, which is confirmed by the weeping Auretta. Don Pippo, in high delight, forms a ludicrous wedding procession and proceeds to the tower, where Celidora and Lavina stand at the window while the goose makes various antics for the amusement of the crowd. Finally, Don Pippo appears in the great hall of the tower, accompanied by the two maidens and the goose, in full confidence of his triumph, and only waiting the arrival of Count Lionetto to celebrate the wedding. Chichibio enters with an uncourteous refusal from the Count. As Don Pippo is in the act of giving his hand to Lavina, Pantea advances in her true person, the goose begins to speak, opens, and Biondello steps out; Don Pippo is beside himself, and is ridiculed by them all; he ends by promising to amend his ways, and the three couples are made happy.
No doubt this summarised account has omitted to take note of many comic and effective touches; but on the other hand it has suppressed many absurdities—the general impression of a fantastic and senseless plot not being affected L'OCA DEL CAIRO, 1783. by the treatment of the details. In the first glow of delight at having a new libretto, Mozart set to work composing at once in Salzburg, and after his return to Vienna he anticipated different scenes that interested him; but he was soon seized with misgivings that the opera could not be put on the stage without important alterations. He wrote on the subject to his father (December 6, 1783):—
Only three more airs, and the first act of my opera is finished. With the aria buffa, the quartet, and the finale I can safely say I am perfectly satisfied—in fact, quite delighted. So that I should be sorry to have written so much good music in vain, which must be the case unless some indispensable alterations are made. Neither you, nor the Abbate Varesco, nor I, reflected that it would have a very bad effect—indeed, would ruin the opera—if neither of the two principal female characters were to appear on the stage until the last moment, but were to be always wandering about on the ramparts or terraces of the tower. One act of this might pass muster, but I am sure the audience would not stand a second. This objection first occurred to me in Linz, and I see no way out of it but to make some scenes of the second act take place in the fortress—camera della fortezza. The scene where Don Pippo gives orders to bring the goose in might be the room in which Celidora and Lavina are. Pantea comes in with the goose. Biondello pops out; they hear Don Pippo coming. In goes Biondello again. This would give an opening for a good quintet, which would be all the more comic because the goose sings too. I must confess to you, however, that my only reason for not objecting to the whole of the goose business is that two men of such penetration and judgment as yourself and Varesco see nothing against it. But there would still be time to think of something else. Biondello has only undertaken to make his way into the tower; whether he does it as a sham goose, or by any other trick, makes no difference at all. I cannot help thinking that many more comic and more natural scenes might be brought about if Biondello were to remain in human form. For instance, the news that Biondello had committed himself to the waves in despair, might arrive quite at the beginning of the second act, and he might then disguise himself as a Turk, or something of the kind, and bring Pantea in as a slave (Moorish, of course). Don Pippo is anxious to purchase a slave for his wife; and the slave-dealer and the Mooress are admitted into the fortress for inspection. This leads to much cajoling and mockery of her husband on the part of Pantea, which would improve the part, for the more comic the opera is the better. I hope you will explain my opinion fully to the Abbate Varesco, and I must beg him to set to work in earnest. I have worked hard enough in the short time. Indeed, I should have finished the first act, if I did not require some alterations made in some of the words; but I would rather you did not mention this to him at present.
In the postcript he again begs his father to consult Varesco, and hurry him on. On further consideration, however, he thought he had still conceded too much, and a few days afterwards he wrote (December 10, 1783):—
Do all you can to make my book a success. I should like to bring the ladies down from the ramparts in the first act, when they sing their airs, and I would willingly allow them to sing the whole finale upstairs.
Varesco was quite willing to make the alteration, which was easily to be effected by a change of scene. The altered version exists, together with the original text; but we know nothing further on the subject. Mozart seems to have made more extensive demands. He wrote to his father (December 24, 1783):—
Now, for what is most necessary with regard to the opera. The Abbate Varesco has written after Lavina's cavatina: "A cui serverà la musica della cavatina antecedente"—that is of Celidora's cavatina—but this will not do. The words of Celidora's cavatina are hopeless and inconsolable, while those of Lavina's are full of hope and consolation. Besides, making one character pipe a song after another is quite an exploded fashion, and never was a popular one. At the best it is only fitted for a soubrette and her lover in the ultime parti. My idea would be to begin the scene with a good duet, for which the same words, with a short appendix for the coda, would answer very well. After the duet, the conversation could proceed as before: "E quando s' ode il cam-panello della custode." Mademoiselle Lavina will have the goodness to take her departure instead of Celidora, so that the latter, as prima donna, may have an opportunity of singing a grand bravura air. This would, I think, be an improvement for the composer, the singers, and the audience, and the whole scene would gain in interest. Besides, it is scarcely likely that the same song would be tolerated from the second singer after being sung by the first. I do not know what you both mean by the following direction: At the end of the interpolated scene for the two women in the first act, the Abbate has written: "Siegue la scena VIII che prima era la VII e cosi cangiansi di mano in mano i numeri." This leads me to suppose that he intends the scene after the quartet, where the two ladies, one after the other, sing their little songs from the window, to remain. But that is impossible. The act would be lengthened out of all proportion, and quite spoiled. I always thought it ludicrous to read: Celidora. "Tu qui m' attendi, arnica. Alla custode farmi veder vogl' io; ci andrai tu puoi." Lavina: "Si dolce arnica, addio." (Celidora parte.) Lavina sings her song. Celidora comes back and says: "Eccomi, or vanne," &c.; and then out goes Lavina, and Celidora sings her air; they relieve one another, like soldiers on guard. It is much more natural L'OCA DEL CAIRO, 1783. also that, being all together for the quartet, to arrange their contemplated attack, the men should go out to collect the necessary assistants, leaving the two women quietly in their retreat. All that can be allowed them is a few lines of recitative. I cannot imagine that it was intended to prolong the scene, only that the direction for closing it was omitted by mistake. I am very curious to hear your good idea for bringing Biondello into the tower; if it is only comical enough, we will overlook a good deal that may be unnatural. I am not at all afraid of a few fireworks; all the arrangements here are so good that there is no danger of fire. "Medea" has been given repeatedly, at the end of which half the palace falls in ruins while the other half is in flames.
Whether Varesco refused to give up the "goose business," whether he was afraid of further endless emendations, or what his reasons were, who can tell? In any case no radical change was made in the text, and, much against his will, Mozart was forced to lay the opera aside. Besides a recitative and the cursory sketch of a tenor air, six numbers of the first act are preserved in draft score (422 K.), with, as usual, the voice parts and bass completely written out, and the ritornelli and accompaniment more or less exactly indicated for the different instruments. Four numbers belong to Auretta and Chichibio; the comparison with "Figaro" is an obvious one, and though Chichibio is far from being a Figaro, Auretta approaches much nearer to Susanna. The situation of her air (2) is not badly imagined. Calandrino, hearing from Auretta that Chichibio is very jealous, embraces her in jest and says, "What would Chichibio say if he saw us?" Thereupon that personage enters, and Auretta, pretending not to observe him, sings:—
Se fosse qui nascoso
Quell' Argo mio geloso,
O, poverina me!
Direbbe: "O maledetta,
Pettegola, fraschetta!
La fedeltà dov' è?"
Pur sono innocente,
Se fosse presente,
Direbbe tra se:
"O qui non c' è pericolo,
Un caso si ridicolo
Goder si deve affè."
The musical apprehension of the contrasts contained in the words is remarkably humorous and graceful, and especially the point to which the whole tends. "O qui non cè peri-colo" is as charmingly roguish as anything in "Figaro." Chichibio's comic air (3) is in the genuine style of Italian buffo, and consists of a rapid parlando; after the direction to close with the ritornello it acquires some originality of colour from the instrumentation. In the shorter of the two duets between Auretta and Chichibio, the orchestra was also intended to play a prominent part. The first duet (1), however, is more important and more broadly designed; Auretta provokes Chichibio's jealousy in the traditional manner, and then seeks to appease it. The whole piece, with its shifting humours, is lively and amusing, and the subject—[See Page Image]
carried out by the orchestra and toyed with by the voice-parts, is of a mingled grace and intensity truly worthy of Mozart. Then there are sketches of two great ensembles. The quartet (6) in which the lovers converse from afar has less of a buffo character and more true feeling; the two pairs of lovers are clearly distinguished, and their characteristics sharply defined. The finale (7), on the other hand, is altogether in the liveliest buffo tone. At the beginning the lovers are full of eagerness and hope at the building of the bridge, then follows the excitement of suspense, and when Don Pippo actually appears a general tumult breaks out. It does not lie in the nature of this situation to make the same display of rich variety, nor of the dignity of deep emotion, which we admire so much in other finales; it is calculated rather to excite wonder at the long continuation of spirited movement and ascending climax. In the last presto, especially, this is quite extraordinary; here the chorus (contrary to custom in comic opera) is independent and full of effect, yielding to no later work of the same kind. A proof of the figure Don Pippo is intended to cut is given in this LO SPOSO DELUSO, 1784. finale. The short andante maestoso, "Io sono offeso! La mia eccellenza, la prepotenza soffrir non de," indicates a grand buffo part such as never occurs in any other opera. We have, it is true, but a weak and shadowy outline of all these movements. Let the experiment be made of imagining corresponding numbers of "Figaro" and "Don Giovanni" deprived of all their orchestral parts except the bass, and a few bars to suggest the different motifs, and how much weaker and more colourless will be the image that remains! So, also, we can scarcely arrive at even an approximate idea of the life which Mozart would have thrown into these sketches when he came to work them out in all their detail and brilliancy of colouring. They betray, in common with all the works of this period, the firm touch of a master, and possess a singular interest to the student, even in their incomplete form. Who can say that Mozart, if he had finished the opera, would not have succeeded in overcoming the weaker points of the libretto? And yet he scarcely seems to have hoped as much himself, seeing that he finally laid aside the work, begun with so much eagerness and carried on so far. But he was far from abandoning his design, and seeing no immediate prospect of a new libretto, he selected from among the numerous books which he had collected one that he might at least hope to see put on the stage. This was "Lo Sposo Deluso" ("Der gefoppte Brautigam"), probably the same opera which was produced at Padua in the winter of 1787, with music by Cav. Pado.[ 29 ] That it was a libretto which had already been made use of follows from the fact that Mozart made some corrections from the original of inaccuracies as to names committed by the ignorant Italian copyist. It is not necessary for the comprehension of the portions composed by Mozart (430 K.) to transcribe the whole of the complicated contents of the book; the list of characters, with the names of the singers to whom Mozart alloted the various parts, will suffice to show the drift of the plot.
The dramatis personæ, then, are as follows:—[See Page Image]
The time at which Mozart was at work on this libretto falls within that during which Nancy Storace performed as Signora Fischer. She had been induced to marry an English violinist, a Dr. Fisher, at Vienna, who ill-treated her, and was thereupon sent out of the country by the Emperor. This was in the year 1784,[ 30 ] and as Nancy Storace never afterwards bore the name of her husband, she could only have been so described by Mozart shortly after her marriage. As the opera begins, Bocconio, awaiting his bride, is discovered giving the finishing touches to his toilet; his friend Pulcherio, the woman-hater, is present, and jeers at him; so do Don Asdrubale and Bettina, who declares that if her uncle does not provide her with a husband without delay, she will give him and his wife no peace. While he is defending himself, the arrival of the bride is announced; the confusion increases, for he is not yet ready, and the others all torment him the more. Mozart has connected this quartet with the overture, which leads into the first scene without a break. We have a merry flourish of trumpets and drums, taken up by the whole orchestra, and at once we are in the midst of wedding festivities and joyous excitement. The plan of the LO SPOSO DELUSO, 1784. overture, though without any actual allusion, reminds us of that to "Figaro," but falls short of it in spirit and refinement. The merriment is interrupted by a tender andante 3-8, in which strings and wind instruments alternate, prefiguring the amorous emotions which are to have a place in the drama. The flourish is heard again, the curtain rises, and the andante is repeated in its main points, the instrumental movement serving as a foundation for the free motion of the voices. The different points are more sharply accented, and the hearer's enjoyment is intensified by the richer and more brilliant working out of the movement, which shows itself, as it were, in an altogether new light. The ensemble is inspired with cheerful humour, full of dramatic life, and showing distinctly Mozart's own art of giving independence and freedom to the voices and orchestra, as members of one perfect whole. The draft is worked out somewhat beyond the first design, the stringed instruments being almost written in full, and the principal entrances of the wind instruments at least indicated. We are thus enabled to form a sufficient idea of the movement, which, had it been completed, would have been so brilliant an introduction to the opera. Two airs are preserved in the customary sketch form—voices and bass entire, and detached indications for the violin. In the soprano air (3), however, the outline is so characteristic that but a small effort of imagination suffices to endow it with the effect of full instrumentation. The caricatured haughtiness of the Roman lady Eugenia is shown in the very first words:—
The contrast between pomposity and volubility is given at once; the object is to balance one with the other, so that they may appear natural displays of a consistent character.
The moderation of tone thus obtained is all the more necessary from the character being a female one, since a woman cannot be caricatured to the point of being revolting, as a man can, without injury to the comic effect.
Nacqui all' aura trionfale,
Del Romano Campidoglio
E non trovo per le scale,
Che mi venga ad incontrar?
Caricature, which emphasises certain characteristic features of an individual at the cost of others less striking must always be an objectionable mode of musical representation. The external features which can be exaggerated by the musician are limited and soon exhausted, the exaggeration of emotional expression to produce a comic effect is a very dangerous device, because music does not possess the resources which enable poetry and the formative arts to represent disproportions of caricature as amusing and comical rather than distorted and hideous. Mozart takes as the foundation for his musical representation a genuine pride, which is only led by chance impulses to express itself in an exaggerated and distorted manner, and it is this temporary self-contradiction which produces the comic effect. The musical device he employs for the purpose is the composition of the air in the traditional heroic form of opera seria, which is opposed to the situation of the moment as well as to the fault-finding words. The compass and employment of the voice show that Mozart had Storace in view, for whom he afterwards composed Susanna. Pulcherio's second air (4) is much more sketchily delineated. Eugenia and Bocconio, after their first meeting, are not on very good terms with each other, and the obliging friend seeks to reconcile them; he draws Bocconio's attention to Eugenia's beauty, and hers to Bocconio's amiability, and as he goes first to one and then to the other with his appeals, he pictures to himself the misery which is sure to follow the union of the two. The contrasting motifs to which the situation gives rise are arranged in animated alternation. The sketch, however, shows only the general design; and the share taken in it by the orchestra, doubtless a very important one, cannot be even approximately arrived at. A terzet (5 cf., Vol. II., p. 424) between Eugenia, Don Asdrubale and Bocconio is completely worked out, and causes regret that it was not inserted in a later opera, that so we might have heard it from the stage. Don Asdrubale coming to greet Bocconio's bride, the lovers in amazement recognise each other. Eugenia, who had been informed of Don Asdrubale's death in battle, falls half-swooning on a couch, and Bocconio hastens off to fetch LO SPOSO DELUSO, 1784. restoratives. Asdrubale, who is on the way to Rome that he may wed Eugenia, overwhelms her with reproaches, and throws himself on a couch in despair. Eugenia has risen, and before Asdrubale can explain himself, Bocconio returns, and to his astonishment finds the scene completely altered. At this point the terzet begins, and expresses most charmingly the confusion and embarrassment of the three personages, who are all in the dark as to each other's conduct, and who put restraint on themselves even in their extremity of suspense. The orchestra carries on the threads independently, joined by the voices, sometimes apart and interrupted, to suit the situation, sometimes together. An excellent effect is given by the sharply accented expression of involuntary painful emotion contrasting with the reserve which otherwise prevails in the terzet. The whole tone of the piece is masterly; while never overstepping the limits of comic opera, it successfully renders the deep agitation of mind of all the three characters. This is contrived, not by the mixture of a comic element in the person of Bocconio, who rather approximates to the frame of mind of the other two, but by the cheerful tone which penetrates the whole without any loss of truth of expression.
This opera again stopped short of completion, and a third seems to have had the same fate. A terzet for male voices, which is preserved in duplicate draft, was intended for the first scene of a comic opera. An opera by Accoromboni, "Il Regno delle Amazoni," was, according to Fétis, performed at Parma in 1782, as well as elsewhere,[ 31 ] with success, and the words of the terzet leave little doubt that this, too, was among the "little books" Mozart had looked through, and that it suggested to him an experiment which must almost have coincided in point of time with the two just mentioned. It can scarcely have been the imperfections of the libretti alone which caused Mozart to leave these operas unfinished, but also the improbability of ever bringing them to performance. The brilliant reception accorded to the Italian maestri, Sarti and Paesiello, in Vienna, only caused MOZART AS AN OPERA COMPOSER. the German masters to fall more into the background. The extraordinary success of Paesiello and Casti with "Il Re Teodoro'' (Vol. II., p. 344), alarmed even Salieri. He had himself begun an opera, "Il Ricco d' un Giorno," but laid it aside rather than enter into competition with the "Re Teodoro." He was always skilful in turning circumstances to account. When his "Rauchfangkehrer" failed in 1781, and Mozart's "Entführung" was rousing great expectations, he received in the nick of time a commission from Munich to write the opera "Semiramide," which was performed during the Carnival.[ 32 ] He then set out, recommended and patronised by Gluck, to produce "Les Danaides" in Paris. Crowned with new laurels, by reason of the success which it there met with, he returned to Vienna and completed his opera, after the first enthusiasm for his rivals had died out. It was given on December 6, 1784, but without success.[ 33 ] Mozart's prospects for the year 1785 were not any more favourable, when suddenly help appeared from an unexpected quarter.
Lorenzo da Ponte (1749-1838),[ 34 ] a native of Ceneda, was exiled from the republic of Venice, where he had been schoolmaster, on account of his opinions and manner of life. After a short stay in Gorz and Dresden, he came to Vienna, warmly recommended to Salieri by the poet Mazzola, just as the Italian opera was in process of being established. Through Salieri's influence he was appointed a theatrical poet by Joseph II., who continued to befriend him; he had thus every reason to be beholden to Salieri. His first attempt was this opera, "Il Ricco d' un Giorno," which he did not himself consider a success; Salieri ascribed its failure, which he felt the more keenly in contrast to Paesiello's success, solely and entirely to the poet, and swore that he would sooner cut off his hand than set to music another word of Da Ponte's. He had no difficulty in obtaining a libretto CASTI—DA PONTE. from Casti, "La Grotta di Trofonio"; and this opera, which was first given on October 12, 1785, was a great success.[ 35 ] Da Ponte now saw himself threatened in his position, for Casti was his declared rival and opponent.
Casti had long been famous as a witty and gallant verse-maker; he was acquainted with the most influential men of the day, and was ambitious of succeeding Metastasio as poeta Cesareo. The rise of Da Ponte, who had to some extent taken Metastasio's place in the theatre, would be altogether against his interests; he sought therefore both by praise and blame to bring his rival into discredit, and ridiculed him personally in his operetta, "Prima la Musica" (Vol. III., p. 47). Casti carried his vanity and self-complacency to such a pitch that Kelly mimicked him on the stage in his own opera ("Demo-gorgone"), to the intense delight of the public.[ 36 ] It was plainly Da Ponte's interest to gain the favour of composers who might do credit to his operatic libretti.
Vincent Martin (1754-1810), born in Valencia, and therefore called "Lo Spagnuolo," had produced some operas in Italy with success since 1781; Storace had made a furore in one of them at Venice.[ 37 ] This caused him to repair to Vienna in 1784, where the wife of the Spanish Ambassador took him under her powerful protection. At the command of the Emperor Da Ponte adapted for him the opera, "Il Burbero di Buon Core," after Goldoni's comedy, which was performed for the first time on January 4, 1786, with complete success; but his next operas, "Il Finto Cieco," composed by Gazzaniga, and "Il Demogorgone," composed by Righini, were not particularly successful. Not satisfied with these composers, he cast his eyes on Mozart, to whom he had promised a libretto as early as 1783. Da Ponte positively affirms[ 38 ] that it was owing to his readiness and decision that Mozart was enabled to place his masterpiece on the stage in defiance of all the cabals and intrigues of his enemies; and he expresses the MOZART AS AN OPERA COMPOSER. hope that an impartial and truthful account of the affair will make this evident. We shall therefore follow his account, but shall correct and modify it in its details by means of other available information.[ 39 ]
Baron Wezlar, a great lover of music, in whose house Mozart had lived for a time (Vol. II., p. 304), had brought about the acquaintance between the latter and Da Ponte, and proved himself a munificent patron on the occasion. On Mozart's expressing anxiety lest an opera composed by him should not be allowed to appear, Wezlar engaged to pay the librettist a suitable fee, and to bring about the performance of the opera in London or Paris if the obstacles in Vienna proved insurmountable. Confiding in the favour and discernment of the Emperor, Da Ponte declined this offer. In discussing a suitable subject Mozart expressed the wish that Da Ponte would adapt Beaumarchais' comedy, "Le Mariage de Figaro," which, after a prolonged struggle, had been given for the first time on April 27, 1784, and was now occupying public attention. The adaptation would be an easy matter, but the Emperor had forbidden the production of the piece at the National Theatre on account of its freedom of tone. Da Ponte, however, hoped to overcome this difficulty; he agreed with Mozart to keep.the undertaking a secret. They set to work, Da Ponte writing the libretto, and Mozart composing it gradually as he received it: in six weeks the whole was finished. Fortunately there was a dearth of new operas at the time. Da Ponte, without consulting any one, went straight to the Emperor, and told him what had happened. The Emperor had misgivings both as to Mozart, who, though an excellent instrumental composer, had written an opera which was no great success ("non era gran cosa"), and as to the piece which he had already suppressed. Da Ponte declared that he would be answerable for Mozart as well as for the piece, which he had adapted in such a manner as to be perfectly fit for representation. The Emperor gave way, summoned Mozart before him with the score, and after ADAPTATION OF "FIGARO," 1785. hearing some portions of it, commanded that it should be performed and put into rehearsal at once. This caused much displeasure to Mozart's opponents, Casti and Count Rosenberg, "a sworn enemy of the Germans, who would listen to nothing that was not Italian,"[ 40 ] and who made as many difficulties as he could. Da Ponte relates one instance of the kind. The manager, Bussani (the singer who was cast for the part of Bartolo), told Count Rosenberg that in the third act of "Figaro," during the wedding festivities, while Susanna is conveying the letter to the Count, a ballet was to be introduced. Rosenberg sent for the poet, reminded him that the Emperor would not allow a ballet, and turning a deaf ear to his remonstrances, tore the scene out of the book. Mozart was furious; wanted to call the Count to answer, to horsewhip Bussani, to appeal to the Emperor, to take back the score—in short, he could with difficulty be pacified. At the full rehearsal the Emperor was present. In obedience to Rosenberg's order the ballet was omitted, and in dead silence Susanna and the Count made their now meaningless gestures. The Emperor, in amazement, asked what it all meant, and on Da Ponte's explanation of the affair, ordered a proper ballet to be at once arranged. This story, although Da Ponte may have exaggerated the importance of his own share in it, doubtless gives a fair idea on the whole of the circumstances under which Mozart's "Figaro" was produced. Kelly's assertion that Mozart was commissioned by the Emperor to write an opera, and selected "Figaro," accords very well with Da Ponte's account. Mozart began his work in the autumn of 1785, as we learn from a letter of his father's to Marianne (November 11, 1785):—
At last, after six weeks' silence, I have received a letter from your brother of November 2, containing quite twelve lines. His excuse for not writing is that he has been over head and ears at work on his opera,
"Le Nozze di Figaro." He has put off all his pupils to the afternoon, so that he may have his mornings free. I have no fear as to the music; MOZART AS AN OPERA COMPOSER. but there will no doubt be much discussion and annoyance before he can get the libretto arranged to his wish; and having procrastinated and let the time slip after his usual fashion, he is obliged now to set to work in earnest, because Count Rosenberg insists upon it.
This contradicts Da Ponte's account of the secrecy with which the opera was prepared; and it may be doubted also whether it was really written in six weeks. The date in Mozarts own catalogue,-April 29, 1786, only proves that he closed his work by writing the overture immediately before the first performance (May 1).[ 41 ] Da Ponte may have exaggerated somewhat tor the sake of effect. Mozart's Thematic Catalogue shows what he was capable of accomplishing even while at work upon "Figaro." There is a hiatus in the catalogue from July 5, 1785, to November 5. It is possible that he was busy with the opera during this interval; but during the time immediately following, when he was working at it in real earnest, we find the following compositions entered:—
1785. November 5. Quartet to the "Villanella Rapita" (Vol. II., p. 331).
November 21. Terzet I (479, 480 K.).
December 12. Sonata for piano and violin in E flat major (481 K.).
December 16. Pianoforte concerto in E flat major (482 K.).
1786. January 10. Pianoforte rondo in D major (485 K.).
January 18. Terzet from the "Schauspieldirector."
February 3. "Schauspieldirector" (486 K.).
March 2. Pianoforte concerto in A major (488 K.).
March 10. Duet and air for the private performance of "Ido-meneo" (489, 490 K.).
March 24. Pianoforte concerto in C minor (491 K.).
April 29. "Le Nozze di Figaro" (492 K.).
To these may be added the Lent Concerts, which were also then occupying him. There were other difficulties to be overcome before the performance, of which we hear nothing from Da Ponte, but which are related by Kelly:—
There were three operas now on the tapis, one by Righini ("ü Demo-gorgone"), another by Salieri ("La Grotta di Trofonio"), and one INTRIGUES AGAINST "FIGARO." by Mozart, by special command of the Emperor. Mozart chose to have Beaumarchais' French comedy, "Le Mariage de Figaro," made into an Italian opera, which was done with great ability by Da Ponte. These three pieces were nearly ready for representation at the same time, and each composer claimed the right of producing his opera for the first. The contest raised much discord, and parties were formed. The characters of the three men were all very different. Mozart was as touchy as gunpowder, and swore that he would put the score of his opera into the fire if it was not produced first; his claim was backed by a strong party. Righini, on the contrary, was working like a mole in the dark to get precedence. The third candidate was Maestro di Capella to the court, a clever, shrewd man, possessed of what Bacon called "crooked wisdom"; and his claims were backed by three of the principal performers, who formed a cabal not easily put down. Every one of the opera company took part in the contest. I alone was a stickler for Mozart, and naturally enough, for he had a claim on my warmest wishes, from my adoration of his powerful genius and the debt of gratitude I owed him for many personal favours. The mighty contest was put an end to by his majesty issuing a mandate for Mozart's "Nozze di Figaro" to be instantly put into rehearsal.
A slight error has crept in here, for Salieri's opera was given first on October 12, 1785; but this account confirms the fact of the Emperor's interference. Mozart's claims were supported by the distinguished company of amateurs who arranged a representation of "Idomeneo" at the Auersperg Theatre in March (Vol. II., p. 289). The fact that his friends Count Hatzfeld (Vol. II., p. 291) and Bridi (Vol. II., p. 359) took his part in the dispute shows that it was intended to put Mozart forward as a composer of Italian operas, and that powerful support was considered necessary for the purpose. His father had cause therefore to write to his daughter (April 18):—
On the 28th, "Le Nozze di Figaro" is to be put on the stage for the first time. It will mean much if it succeeds, for I know that there has been a surprisingly strong cabal against it. Salieri and all his adherents will move heaven and earth against it. Duschek told me lately[ 42 ] that my son met with such violent opposition because of his extraordinary talent and cleverness.
Niemetschek (p. 37) goes so far as to assert that it was commonly reported that the Italian singers did all they could to ruin the opera on its first performance by intentional mistakes and carelessness, and that they had to be sternly reminded of their duty by the Emperor, to whom Mozart appealed in despair at the end of the first act. Kelly says nothing of this; he maintains, on the contrary, that never was opera so strongly cast, and that all the subsequent performances he had seen were no more to be compared to the original one than light is to darkness:[ 43 ]—
All the original performers had the advantage of the instruction of the composer, who transfused into their minds his inspired meaning. I never shall forget his little animated countenance, when lighted up with the glowing rays of genius; it is as impossible to describe it as it would be to paint sunbeams. I remember at the first rehearsal of the full band Mozart was on the stage with his crimson pelisse and gold-laced cocked hat, giving the time of the music to the orchestra. Figaro's song "Non più andrai" Benucci gave with the greatest animation and power of voice. I was standing close to Mozart, who, (sotto voce), was repeating: "Bravo! bravo, Benucci!" and when Benucci came to the fine passage, "Cherubino, alla vittoria, alia gloria militar!" which he gave out with stentorian lungs, the effect was electricity itself, for the whole of the performers on the stage, and those in the orchestra, as if actuated by one feeling of delight, vociferated: "Bravo! bravo, maestro! viva, viva, grande Mozart!" Those in the orchestra I thought would never have ceased applauding, by beating the bows of their violins against the music-desks. The little man acknowledged by repeated obeisances his thanks for the distinguished mark of enthusiastic applause bestowed upon him.
The following was the cast of the first performance, according to Mozart's Thematic Catalogue—the original libretto is unfortunately lost:[ 44 ]—[See page images]
The reception of the opera by the public on its first performance (May 1, 1786) was such as to justify the most favourable anticipations.[ 45 ] "Never was anything more complete," says Kelly, "than the triumph of Mozart and his 'Nozze di Figaro.'" The house was crowded, and many pieces were encored, so that the opera lasted twice the usual time; but that did not prevent long-continued applause and repeated calls for Mozart at the close of the performance. L. Mozart wrote to his daughter on May 18: "At the second performance of your brother's opera (May 3) five pieces were encored, and on the third (May 8) seven; one little duet had to be sung three times."[ 46 ] The opera, therefore, was a decided success; too much so, indeed, for many people, and the Emperor was persuaded, after the first performance, to forbid any piece to be encored, under the pretence of sparing the singers and the conductor. Kelly narrates how the Emperor, after issuing this prohibition, addressing himself at a rehearsal to Storace, Mandini, and Benucci, said:[ 47 ] "I LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. dare say you are all pleased that I put a stop to encores; it must be fatiguing and distressing to you to repeat so many songs." Storace replied: "It is indeed, sire, very distressing." The other two bowed, as if in assent; but Kelly, who was standing by, said boldly to the Emperor: "Do not believe them, sire, they all like to be encored; at least I am sure I always do"; whereupon the Emperor laughed. Mozart's enemies found it impossible to drive the opera completely from the stage, but they took care that it should not be given often enough to take firm hold of the public favour. Nevertheless, it reached nine performances within the year, though with long intervals between them (May 1, 3, 8, 24, July 4, August 28, September 22, November 15, December 18). On November 17 Martin's "Cosa Rara" (after so strong an opposition on the part of the singers, that the Emperor was obliged to compel them to sing)[ 48 ] achieved an unprecedented success. This threw "Figaro" somewhat into the shade, both in the public estimation and in the Emperor's opinion; the latter told Dittersdorf that Mozart overweighted the singers with his full accompaniments;[ 49 ] Martin's easy and taking melodies were far more to the royal taste. During 1787 and 1788 "Figaro" was not given at all in Vienna,[ 50 ] and was not reproduced until August 29, 1789.
CHAPTER XXXVI. "LE NOZZE DI FIGARO."
THE choice of Beaumarchais' comedy "Le Mariage de Figaro, ou La Folle Journée," as a subject for operatic treatment, was deliberately made by Mozart himself.[ 1 ] The LE MARIAGE DE FIGARO. play had excited unusual interest, both on account of the name and political position of the author and of the curious circumstances under which it had been produced in Paris. Beaumarchais had offered his comedy, towards the end of 1781, to the Théätre-Français, where it was readily accepted. But rumours prejudicial to the piece led Louis XVI. to have it read aloud in his presence; he was horrified at its freedom of tone, and declared that he would never consent to its performance. This only served to stimulate curiosity, and people thronged to hear the reading of the manuscript; a strong court party interested themselves for its production, the actors pressed for it, the public insisted upon it. Beaumarchais knew well how to turn all these circumstances to account; in June, 1783, his comedy was on the point of performance at the court theatre; the audience was actually assembled, when, just as the curtain was about to rise, a fresh prohibition arrived, from the King. Complaints of tyranny and oppression now became audible, and the affair assumed a political aspect. At length the King was prevailed upon to countenance a private representation at a festival given by M. de Vaudreuil to the Comte d'Artois in September, 1783. Beaumarchais contrived that this should lead to a public performance, which took place in April, 1784.[ 2 ] The unheard-of success of the play caused its reputation to spread rapidly, and Mozart's attention could not fail to be attracted to it, the more so as Paesiello's "Barbiere di Seviglia," founded on Beaumarchais' earlier comedy, had been well received in Vienna. Mozart's search for a suitable libretto among the Italian ones already published, and his attempt to produce a new one with. Varesco, were equally unsuccessful. The accepted form of opera buffa, relying for effect solely on broadly comic situations and caricature, did not satisfy Mozart's conditions of dramatic reality in the development of an interesting plot and a consistent delineation of character. Both conditions were amply fulfilled by Beaumarchais. "Le Nozze di Figaro" is well known to be in a certain sort a continuation of the "Barbiere di Seviglia."
The majority of the characters appear in both pieces, events belonging to the plot of "Figaro" are grounded on the previous play, and it is necessary for a proper appreciation of the motives and characterisation to bear the connection of the two in mind:—
Count Almaviva having, with Figaro's help, gained the hand of Rosina, the charming ward of Doctor Bartolo, takes Figaro and Marcellina, Rosina's duenna, into his service, and retires to his castle, attended also by Basilio, the music-master. He soon wearies of his wife's society, and seeks distraction in the company of Susanna, the Countess's maid and Figaro's affianced bride. Basilio is again made to act the part of a go-between. The piece begins on the day appointed for Figaro's wedding. Figaro, having learnt the Count's designs from Susanna, determines to outwit his master, and to prevent the success of his scheme for delaying the wedding. In this scheme the Count is offered assistance by Marcellina, who is in love with Figaro, and possesses his written undertaking to marry her should he fail in repaying her by a certain day a sum of money she has lent him. Her dread of losing all chance of Figaro, by his union with Susanna, induces her to call Bartolo to her assistance, and the latter is the more ready to do what he can, both that he may revenge himself on Figaro, and free himself from Marcellina's claims upon him. It appears that years ago she bore him a son, who was kidnapped as a child. While this danger is hanging over the heads of the lovers, Susanna is sought in her room by the page Cherubino, a heedless and beautiful youth, just budding into manhood. The Count has surprised him with Fanchette, daughter of his gardener Antonio, with whom he is himself flirting, and has discharged him from his service; he begs Susanna to intercede for him with the Countess, his godmother, for whom he entertains an ardent passion. As they converse, they hear the Count approaching, and Cherubino hides behind a large arm-chair; the Count has come to offer Susanna a dowry if she will consent to meet him the same evening; she, however, vigorously repulses him. Basilio enters: the Count hides behind the same arm-chair, and Cherubino slips round to the front, and covers himself with a cloak which lies upon the chair. Basilio reiterates to Susanna the Count's proposals, and, on her continued refusal, makes malicious allusions to the page, who is paying court not only to Susanna, but to the Countess. The Count comes forward in a fury, orders the immediate dismissal of the page, tells how he found him concealed in the gardener's house, and discovers him in the arm-chair. But Cherubino has been a witness to all that has passed, and, in order to conciliate and get rid of him at the same time, the Count gives him a commission in his regiment, ordering his immediate departure for Seville, to join the garrison there. At this point Figaro enters at the head of the villagers in holiday attire. The Count, at his marriage, had BEAUMARCHAIS' FIGARO. renounced his seignorial rights, and, instigated by Figaro, his grateful subjects come to petition him to honour the first wedding which has since been celebrated by himself placing the wreath on the head of the bride. The Count cannot refuse the petition, but begs for a few hours delay, in order that the ceremony may be rendered more brilliant. Figaro in the meantime is plotting a double intrigue against the Count, with the co-operation of the Countess, who has been kept informed of all that is going on by her devoted Susanna. Her relations to Figaro and Susanna, and her ready acquiescence in a design to recall her husband to a sense of his duty by means of a trick, keep us in mind that the Countess Almaviva is the Rosina of the "Barber of Seville." She loves her husband, and has a full consciousness of her own dignity; but the circumstances of her early life, and of her marriage with Count Almaviva, have left their indelible impress upon her. Figaro warns the Count, who has gone hunting, by an anonymous letter that a rival has made an assignation with the Countess; he hopes that jealousy will divert his mind from the wedding. On the other side he assures him of Susanna's intention to keep her appointment in the garden; Cherubino, who has been allowed to delay his departure at Figaro's intercession, is to be disguised so as to take Susanna's place at the interview. |The page comes to be dressed; all at once the Count knocks, having hurried home in jealous haste. Cherubino slips into the inner room, of which the Countess locks the door; as the Count is plying her with angry questions Cherubino throws down a chair; the Countess explains that Susanna is within, but refuses to allow her to come out, or even to answer, and will not give up the key. The Count, enraged, secures all means of egress, and drags the Countess away with him to fetch an axe and break the door open. Susanna, who has been concealed in an alcove during this scene, proceeds to liberate Cherubino; he, finding no other exit available, springs through the window into the garden, and Susanna takes his place in the cabinet. The Count returning with the Countess, determined to employ force in opening the door, she confesses that the page is in the inner chamber, whereby his rage is still further excited; to the astonishment of them both Susanna steps forth. The Countess soon collects herself, and explains that their only intention has been to punish him for his want of faith, and that Figaro wrote the letter as a preliminary to the trick; the Count is forced to sue for pardon, which he obtains with difficulty. Figaro now enters with the information that all is prepared for the wedding, and being taxed by the Count with the letter, denies all knowledge of it, and is with difficulty brought to understand the position of affairs. This danger is hardly over when the gardener enters, half tipsy, with the complaint that some one has just jumped from the window of the cabinet upon his flowers; Figaro declares that he was there with Susanna, and had jumped into the garden from fear of the Count's fury. The gardener says that he thought he had recognised Cherubino, but hands Figaro a paper which LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. had been dropped in the garden. The Count, his suspicions newly awakened, demands the contents of the paper; the Countess recognises in it the page's patent, and whispers through Susanna to Figaro, who is able to ward off this fresh danger. Marcellina now appears supported by Bartolo, and makes known Figaro's promise of marriage; the Count, in high delight, promises to support her claims in a court of justice, and by dismissing Basilio, who puts forward his claims to Marcellina's hand, revenges himself for the letter which Basilio had presented to him.
Before the sitting of the court the Countess conceives the design of herself taking Susanna's place at the rendezvous with the Count. The trial which takes place results in Figaro's being ordered to pay his debt to Marcellina, or in default to marry her. The Count appears at the goal of his wishes, but Figaro's evasion—that he must have the consent of his parents—leads to the discovery that he is the long-lost son of Bartolo and Marcellina, who thereupon decide to celebrate their espousals together with his; Susanna, entering with money obtained from the Countess to redeem Figaro, is indignant at finding him in Marcellina's arms, but her anger is speedily turned to delight at hearing the true position of affairs.
During the solemn wedding ceremony—at which Cherubino, disguised as Fanchette, appears among the village maidens and is recognised—Susanna gives the Count a letter dictated by the Countess, in which she appoints the place of rendezvous; a pin which is stuck into the letter is to be returned as a token of understanding. Figaro sees that the Count reads the letter and pricks himself with the pin, without noticing that Susanna has given it to him; hearing afterwards from Fanchette that she is commissioned by the Count to convey the pin back to Susanna, he easily surmises what it means. Beside himself with jealousy, he stations his parents and friends in the neighbourhood of the appointed place, and repairs thither himself to surprise and punish the guilty pair.
In the darkness of night the Countess and Susanna, having exchanged clothes, come to put their husbands to the proof; Susanna has been warned by Marcellina of Figaro's designs. Scarcely is the Countess alone, when she is alarmed by the approach of Cherubino, who presses a kiss on the supposed Susanna; the Count, entering on the instant, salutes the page with a box on the ear, which is received instead by the listening Figaro. Alone with the Countess, the Count addresses her in the most endearing terms, presents her with money, and with a costly ring, and endeavours to go off with her; she escapes him in the darkness, and he seeks her in vain.
In the meantime Susanna, as the Countess, comes to the enraged Figaro, but forgetting for a moment to disguise her voice, he recognises her, and turns the tables by proposing to her to revenge herself for her lord's want of faith by her own, whereupon she makes herself known by DA PONTE'S LIBRETTO. boxing his ears. Peace is easily restored by his explanation, and as the Count approaches, seeking his Susanna, they continue to counterfeit love. The Count in a rage calls for his people with torches, Figaro's friends hasten in, and with them the Countess. The Count, to his shame, discovers that it was his wife who accepted his presents and declarations of love, and the pardon which she accords to him brings the confusion to an end.
Such is a mere outline of this amusing play of intrigue, where one knot twisting in with another, one embarrassment growing out of another, call forth ever and again fresh contrivances, while an abundance of effective situations and characteristic detail make the witty and satirical dialogue one of the most graphic character pictures of the time.[ 3 ] Da Ponte has arranged his libretto with much skill, having no doubt received important aid from Mozart himself. The progress of the piece is left almost unaltered, the necessary abbreviations being judiciously made.[ 4 ] Thus, the lengthy trial scene is omitted, and only the result in its bearing on the plot is communicated. Sometimes an under-plot is added, such as Basilio's appearance as Marcellina's lover. The clearness of the plot is not often endangered, as it certainly is by the alteration which omits all mention of a son of Bartolo and Marcellina previous to their recognition of Figaro as their offspring. The musical pieces are introduced with admirable discrimination in such positions as to allow free and natural scope to the musical rendering of each situation without hindering the progress of the plot, and this is no small praise in such a piece as "Figaro." The whole scheme of the drama demands that quite as much attention shall be given to the ensemble movements and finales as LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. the solo airs; and this is of great advantage to the musical construction. The definite and prearranged progress of the action fulfils all the conditions of operatic representation with regard to the position and diversity of the musical pieces; the poetical conceptions are clever and appropriate, a suggestion of Beaumarchais being often amplified in the musical working-out. The French comedy was of wonderful advantage in maintaining the dialogue; and, shortened and modified as it was of necessity, it retained far more of the spirit and life of the original than was usual in the recitatives of opera buffa. This is not indeed the case as far as the German adaptations of the opera are concerned. I am not aware whence proceeded the first translation made use of in Berlin in 1790.[ 5 ] In 1791 Knigge adapted the opera for Schroder in Hamburg;[ 6 ] in 1792 it was given in Vienna, translated by Gieseke; and in 1794 Vulpius's translation appeared. A new translation, giving not only Da Ponte's verses, but Mozart's improvements on them, is a pressing necessity. The vast superiority of "Le Nozze di Figaro," in characterisation, plot, and dialogue, to the very best of opera buffa libretti may be easily discerned by comparing it with other famous operas, such as Casti's "Re Teodoro" or "Grotta di Trofonio." In many essential points "Figaro" overstepped the limits of opera buffa proper, and brought to view entirely new elements of dramatic construction. The political element indeed, on which perhaps most of the effect of the comedy depended, was altogether omitted from the opera. Not only does the dialogue receive its essential character from the satire and scorn which it freely casts upon the abuses of political and social life—the whole tendency of the play is to depict the nobleman of the period, who, himself without truth and honour, demands both from others, indulges his lust without scruple, and thereby causes his dependents, injured in their moral rights, to turn against him their intellectual superiority, so that he is finally DA PONTE'S LIBRETTO. worsted and disgraced. This conception of the nobility and their position in relation to the citizen class is expressed with energy and malice, and found such a response in the prevailing opinions of the time, that the production of the piece against the expressed will of the King appeared to be a public confirmation of the principles which inspired it; and Napoleon might with justice say of "Figaro": "C'était la révolution déjà en action."[ 7 ] Every trace of these feelings has vanished in the opera, as will be clearly perceived by a comparison of the celebrated "Frondeur-monologue" of Figaro in the fifth act with the jealous song in the opera. The omission was made not so much in deference to the Emperor Joseph's scruples as with the right conviction that the political element is altogether out of place in music.
The omission of political satire is the more serious because it leaves as the central point of the plot an immorality which is not exactly justified, but not by any means seriously punished; only treated with a certain frivolity. The noble libertine is opposed by true and upright love, honest devotion to duty and honourable conduct; but these moral qualities are not made in themselves effective; the true levers of the plot are cunning and intrigue employed as weapons of defence. The whole piece appears in a doubtful light, the atmosphere surrounding Count Almaviva is impure, and the suppression of those circumstances which could alone make the phenomenon natural affects more or less the whole spirit of the plot, and deprives the dialogue of much of its point and double meaning.
Beaumarchais might fairly plead that, having undertaken to give a true picture of the manners of his time, absolute truth of conception and detail was necessary to insure the right moral effect; it was for a later age to perceive how completely the author of the satire was himself under the influence of the time which he depicts and would fain improve. This justification is denied to the opera. It has no title to be considered as a picture of morals, neither can it pretend to exercise any direct influence, whether moral or LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. political, on the minds of men. The dialogue is undoubtedly in many respects purer than in the comedy; but the plot and its motives, the chief situations, the whole point of view, become all the more decidedly frivolous. How came it, then the Mozart could choose such a subject for his opera, and that the public could accept it with approbation? It must in the first place be borne in mind that the facts on which the plot is founded, and the point of view from which these facts are regarded, had at that time substantial truth and reality; men were not shocked at seeing on the stage that which they had themselves experienced, and knew to be going on in their own homes. A later age is disgusted by the contrast between semblance and reality, and at the representation of immorality in all its nakedness; the taste of the time demands that it shall be shown after another form and fashion. A glance at the entertaining literature, and even at the operas of the last half of the eighteenth century, shows clearly that representation of immorality plays an important part therein in a form which bespeaks the temper and spirit of the time; and further, that a desire for the representation of moral depravity is an infallible symptom of moral disease. It cannot, therefore, be wondered at that a picture of the moral corruption which penetrated all classes, from the highest to the lowest, and which had brought all social and political relations to the verge of dissolution, should have been regarded with eager approbation and enjoyment. The age which produced and enjoyed "Figaro" took a lighter view of sensual gratification and the moral turpitude connected therewith than that which seems right to a generation grown serious by reason of higher aims and nobler struggles. It need not here be discussed how far manners and opinions which change with the times are to be regarded as absolute morality; the point we are proving is undeniable, and is apparent, often painfully so, in all the light literature and memoirs of the day. Caroline Pichler writes in reference to this very period:[ 8 ]—
There prevailed a taste for all that was beautiful and pleasant in Vienna at that time. The mind had freer movement than at present, and anything might be written and printed which was not in the strictest sense of the word contrary to religion and the state. There was not nearly so much stress laid upon good manners. Plays and romances of a tolerably free tendency were admitted and discussed in good society. Kotzebue was very much thought of. His pieces, as well as Gemmingen's "Deutscher Hausvater," Schroder's "Ring," and many others which are sunk in oblivion, together with a number of tales and romances (Meissner's sketches above all) were founded on indecent subjects. They were read without scruple or concealment by all the world, and every young girl.
I myself saw and read them all repeatedly; "Oberon" I knew well, and Meissner's "Alcibiades." No mother felt any scruple at allowing her daughter to become acquainted with such works; and indeed living examples of what we read moved before us with so little concealment of their irregular and immoral doings, that it would not have been possible for any mother to keep her daughter in ignorance on these points.
It is sufficient to refer to the reading of Wieland's works.
What can be more repugnant to our ideas than to find a young girl writing to her lover:—
I hope you will soon get the new "Amadis"; it is the funniest, most whimsical book. I wonder how you will like Olinda! Master Amadis is a little too like butter—he melts in every sunbeam.
Our wonder increases when we reflect that this young girl is Caroline Flachsland, and her lover is Herder.[ 9 ] There can be no doubt that in this respect Mozart was a child of his time; that he willingly allowed himself to glide along the pleasant stream of life in Vienna, and that his merrier moods were often productive of free and even coarse jests. The frivolous element in Beaumarchais' comedy was not, therefore, likely to repel him, although it would be unfair to assert that it mainly attracted him; he accepted it, as others did, as the sauce which was most likely to be of acceptable flavour.
His chief concern was doubtless the gradual unfolding and continual interest of the plot, and the graphic delineation of character, qualities which were entirely overlooked by the ordinary opera buffa. Any approach to probability or analogy with actual life was not thought of, and was LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. not often replaced even by a fanciful poetic vein of humour; attempts to give consistency to the caricatures of individuals and situations only served to bring their irreconcilable contrasts into stronger relief. In "Figaro," on the contrary, the interest depends upon, the truth the representation of actual life. The motives of the actors are serious, they are carried out with energy and intellect, and from them the situations are naturally developed; only the light in which they are all portrayed is that of Beaumarchais' strongly accented "gaieté," which is by no means innocent, and in its essence nothing less than musical. It is one of the strongest proofs of Mozart's genius that he should have undertaken, moved as he was by the dramatic signification of the piece, to infuse a new soul into it by his musical treatment; so sure was he that whatever came home to his mind might be used as the germ of a living creation. The musical representation, however, could only be a true one by relying entirely on the emotions which alone are capable of being expressed in music.[ 10 ] The whole piece is raised to a higher sphere by the subordination of the powers of understanding and intellect, which Beaumarchais had made the chief factors in his design. Beaumarchais' aim was to preserve his plot and characters from vulgarity or caricature; the point of view whence the musical reconstruction proceeded led inevitably to an ennobling of the whole representation. In depicting emotions, whether as the impulse to action, or as giving significance even to the least commendable promptings of the mind, the musician was in his own element, and the MUSICAL TREATMENT OF THE DRAMA. wealth of dramatic situations and characters was a pure gain to an artist who knew how to turn it to account. The piercing eye of genius finds materials for its finest performance where a more superficial view reveals nothing but difficulties. If each of the characters, pursuing the interests they have at heart, are to express their inner sentiments at every point in conformity with their nature, it follows that the aim of dramatic characterisation in its true sense must be the representation of individuality, sharp and precise in form, true and pure as to its source; thus only will the exaggeration of caricature be avoided. This holds good of all the chief characters in "Figaro"—of the Count and Countess, Figaro, Susanna, and Cherubino. They are so entirely governed by their emotions and passions, so completely involved in the complications proceeding therefrom, that an artistic representation must depend on the depicting of these emotions in their fullest truth.
Bartolo and Marcellina seem to invite a treatment in caricature. In the "Barber of Seville" we find the same Bartolo as a buffo character. This is made impossible here by the fact that they are to appear afterwards as Figaro's parents, and ought not, therefore, to cut grotesque figures in our eyes. Beaumarchais' point, that Marcellina gives herself airs of superiority to Susanna, "parce qu'elle a fait quelques études et tourmenté la jeunesse de Madame" is not available for musical characterisation, but Mozart brings it out skilfully in another way. In the duet (Act I., 5), in which Susanna and Marcellina vie with each other in impertinence and provocation, the expression is toned down by the actual, disputing being left to the orchestra, and the two women are put quite on an equality. Susanna prevails over Marcellina only by reason of her youthful grace, and the whole appears an outbreak of that jealous susceptibility which is said to be an attribute of the female sex. Nobler women would not yield to such impulses, but these two belong to no exalted sphere, and give the rein to their angry humours. But they never forget themselves so far as to offend delicacy, and the general tone is a gay one, Marcellina being shown in no way inferior to LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. Susanna.[ 11 ] Afterwards, when graver matters engage her, when she asserts her claims upon Figaro in the first finale, or recognises him as her son in the sestet, the musical expression is sustained and full of true feeling. A singer who was able to form her conception of the part from these touches of character would make of Marcellina something quite different from the ordinary old housekeeper, whom we have unhappily been used to see and hear, no doubt from a mistaken endeavour to render the illusion that Figaro's mother must be an old woman, and sing like an old woman. Marcellina's air (Act IV., 2)," on the other hand, does not assist the characterisation, and is the only piece in the whole opera which fails of its effect. The whole style of it, even to the passages, is old-fashioned, like the traditional air for a seconda donna; it appears to have been a concession made to the taste of the singer. Basilio, the man of cold intellect and malicious cunning, is not a figure which can be made comic by caricature. Mich. Kelly (1764-1825), for whom it was written, was an Irishman, who had studied in Naples, and was highly successful as a tenor in Italy and Vienna; his powers as a mimic fitted him especially for comic parts.[ 12 ] Basilio's malice and scorn are expressed in the terzet (Act I., 7) with delicacy and character, and, in contrast with Susanna's painful excitement and the Count's anger, they give to the piece an irony, such as has seldom found expression in music. The point justly noted by Ulibicheff (II., p. 45 ) that Basilio, in his attempts to pacify the Count after finding the page in the arm-chair, repeats the words: "Ah, del paggio quel ch' ho detto era solo un mio sospetto," a fifth higher, brings out in a striking degree his character of refined malice. The effect is heightened by the use of the same motif by the Count, when he is BASILIO. telling how he found the page with Barberina; and it is attained in the simplest manner by the natural development of the musical structure. Basilio falls into the background in the course of the opera; the comic way in which Beaumarchais makes him banished by the Count, and his courtship of
Marcellina, would have afforded good operatic situations, but abbreviation and simplification were absolutely necessary, and much that was not essential had to be sacrificed. The air which is given to Basilio in the last act (Act IV., 3) scarcely affords compensation. Da Ponte, deprived of Beaumarchais' guidance in this place, makes Basilio illustrate by the fable of the asses' skin that those who can flatter and deceive succeed in the world. The musical rendering follows the story, the orchestra giving the characteristic detail. The expression of ease and self-complacency, and above all the incomparable idea, deservedly noticed by Ulibicheff, of turning the last sentence of the heartless poltroon: "Onte, pericoli, vergogna e morte col cuojo d' asino fuggir si puö," into a sort of parody of a triumphal march, give the air a character of its own". Executed with humour and delicate mimicry it becomes in fact an epitome of Basilio's character, with its utter want of genial qualities. But tone-painting occurs only in such touches as those of the storm, the yelping dog, the hurried retreat, and never comes to the foreground. This means of effect, elsewhere so favourite a device in opera buffa, is always sparingly used by Mozart. The "Din din, don, don," in the duet between Susanna and Figaro (Act I., 2) can scarcely be called tone-painting any more than it can be said to be word-painting; it is hardly more than an interjection, which has the advantage in its musical rendering of being incorporated as a motif in the structure of the piece. Nor can the term be justly applied to the march like tone of Figaro's "Non più andrai" (Act I., 9). Certain forms and phrases have developed themselves in music as expressions of warlike ideas, and they are employed as a matter of course where these ideas occur; Figaro, describing to the page the military life before him, has it mirrored as it were by the orchestra. Mozart wisely guards against entering LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. upon any musical details in the picture, which would have led to a distorted tone-painting; he confines himself to the barest and most general allusions produced by association of ideas. It is often difficult to decide how far the association of ideas contributes to the partly involuntary, partly conscious construction of the musical expression. For instance in the first duet between Figaro and Susanna (Act I., 1), the motif for the bass—[See Page Image]
with the corresponding one for the first violins, goes very well with Figaro's measuring of the room, the diminutions expressing clearly enough his repeated stretches. It cannot be doubted that the situation has suggested the motif, but whether Mozart intended to express the action of measurement is far less certain, and any idea of tone-painting is out of the question. The subordinate characters of the drunken gardener Antonio and the stuttering judge Don Curzio might under other circumstances have been made into caricatures in the sense of opera buffa, but they appear in situations which have so decided a character of a totally different kind that they could not have departed from it without serious injury to that harmony of the whole which none knew better than Mozart how to preserve. The little cavatina (Act IV., 1)
for Barbarina, (Fanchette in Beaumarchais) is very significantly not exactly caricatured, but drawn in stronger colours than is elsewhere the case. This little maid, in her liking for Cherubino, and with an open-hearted candour which makes her a true enfant terrible to the Count, is altogether childish, and not only naïve but unformed. It is, therefore, natural that she should express her grief for the lost pin, and her fear of punishment, like a child; and when we hear her sobbing and crying over it we receive the same ludicrous impression which grown-up people rarely fail to feel at the sight of a child expressing the sorrow of his heart with an energy quite out of proportion to the occasion. The fact that the strong accents which Mozart here multiplies to produce the effect of the disproportion of childish FIGARO. ideas are afterwards made use of to express real emotion does no injury to the truth of his characterisation. In a similar way the expression of sentiment is exaggerated when it is represented as feigned; as, for instance, the last finale, when Figaro makes love to the supposed Countess, whom he has recognised as Susanna, and grows more and more vehement in order to excite the Count's jealousy. Here we have a parody of the accents of strongest passion (Vol. II., p. 427). How differently does the same Figaro express his true feelings! How simple and genuine is the expression of his love in the first duet (Act I., 1), when he interrupts his measurements to exclaim to his pretty bride, with heartfelt joy: "Si, mio core, or è più bello!" and in the last finale, when he puts an end to pretence and, in an exalted mood, with the feeling of his newly won, safely assured happiness fresh upon him, exclaims: "Pace! pace, mio dolce tesoro!" Equally true is Figaro's expression of the jealousy which results from his love. At first indeed this feeling is a curiously mingled one. Warned by Susanna herself, he has full confidence in her, and feels all his intellectual superiority to the Count; he contemplates his situation with a humour which is admirably rendered in the celebrated cavatina (Act I., 3). Cheerfully as it begins, the expression of superciliousness and versatility has a tinge of bitterness and resentment, betraying how nearly he is touched by the affair which he affects to treat so lightly. Afterwards, when he believes himself deceived, grief and anger are strongly expressed in the recitative preceding his air (Act IV., 4). But his originality asserts itself even here. The consciousness of what his situation has of the ludicrous never forsakes him, and his anger against the whole female sex, which he works up more and more, involuntarily assumes a comic character. Here we have one of the many points which Mozart added to the text.
The somewhat unflattering description of womankind runs—
Queste chiamate dee
Son streghe che incantano per farci penar,
Sirene che cantano per farci affogar,
Civette che allettano per trarci le piume,
Comete che brillano per toglierci il lume—
and so on, until at the end—
Amore non senton, non senton pietà—
Il resto non dico, già ognuno lo sà.
He has no sooner pronounced the fatal "il resto non dico," when he seems unable to get out any more; and so it runs—
Son streghe che incantano—il resto non dico
Sirene che cantano—il resto non dico, &c.—
giving, opportunity for a corresponding musical treatment of the words. At last Mozart makes the horns strike in unexpectedly and finish the phrase for him in a manner full of musical fun. As the consciousness grows upon Figaro that he is himself the injured party, his signs of grief and pain grow stronger and more animated. The blending of warm feeling with the involuntarily comic expression of intellectual reaction is psychologically true, and in such a character as Figaro's inevitable; it is embodied in the music in a form very different to that of an ordinary buffo aria. Not less true to nature is Figaro's resigned expression of disappointed love further on, when, having the evidence of his own senses that Susanna has been unfaithful to him, he ejaculates: "Tutto è tranquillo." But such a mood as this could not be a lasting one with Figaro, and changes at once upon Susanna's entrance. Benucci, for whom Mozart wrote Figaro, possessed an "extremely round, full, fine bass voice." He was considered a first-rate actor as well as singer, and had the rare merit of never exaggerating.[ 13 ] The individual characterisation is still more sharply defined when several personages appear together in similar situations. Immediately upon the air where Figaro declares war upon the Count (Act I., 3) follows Bartolo's air (Act I., 5) [ 14 ] in which the latter announces his approaching victory over Figaro. He also is altogether in earnest; Figaro has cruelly deceived him, and the long-looked-for BARTOLO. opportunity of vengeance is close at hand: "Tutta Sevilla conosce Bartolo, il birbo Figaro vinto sarà." He is full of pride and self-consciousness—
La vendetta è un piacer serbato ai saggi,
L' obliar l' onte, gl' oltraggi
E bassezza, è ognor viltà—
and the air begins with the forcible and impulsive expression of this self-consciousness enhanced by rapid instrumentation; Bartolo feels the injury done to him, and his obligation in honour to avenge himself, and the sincerity of this feeling invests him with a certain amount of dignity. But—his character has none of the elements of true greatness; as soon as he begins to descant on the way in which he is to outwit Figaro, his grovelling spirit betrays itself; he excites himself with his own chatter, and complacently announces his own triumph beforehand. Bartolo's dignity is not, however, a parody on his true self; the comic element consists in the contrast of the pride which lays claim to dignity and the small-mindedness which unwittingly forfeits the claim. The German translations lose the chief point of the characterisation. Capitally expressed is the original: "coll' astuzia, coll' arguzia, col giudizio, col criterio, si potrebbe——" here the orchestra takes up the motif of the words "è basezza," as if to edge him on, but soon subsides, as he recollects himself: "si potrebbe, si potrebbe"—suddenly interrupted by "il fatto è serio," to which the whole orchestra responds with a startling chord; thereupon he resumes with calm self-confidence: "ma, credete, si farà," and then launches into the flood of trivialities with which he seeks to bolster up his courage.
Steffano Mandini, the original Count Almaviva, was considered by Kelly as one of the first buffos of the day,[ 15 ] and Choron used to hold him up to his scholars as his ideal of a singer.[ 16 ] At the moment when Susanna has hearkened to; his suit, he infers from a word let fall by her that she has LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. deceived him. Injured pride, disappointed hope, and jealousy of his happier rival, excite him to a pitch of passion which breaks out in true cavalier fashion with the words (Act III., 2).: "vedrò, mentr' io sospiro, felice un servo mio!" What a world of expression Mozart has thrown into these words! While disappointed but unvanquished passion presses its sting deep into his heart, injured pride flares up prepared to give place to no other feeling than that of revenge. In the wonderful passage which follows with renewed force upon the immediately preceding tones of sharp complaint—[See Page Image] the change from major to minor brouight about by the chromatic passage in the middle parts is of inimitable effect.[ 17 ] We have before us the nobleman, feeling his honour affronted because he is not allowed to injure that of his servant, and there is in the expression of his revengeful desires and his certainty of victory no tinge of Figaro's cunning or Bartolo's meanness; the stream of passion flows full and unmingled, and the noble position of the Count gives it a certain amount of composure; his weakness excites regret rather than contempt or even ridicule. The expression of this air corresponds to the musical conception of the Count throughout the opera, in making his feelings of injured pride outweigh those of disappointed desire. Pride, jealousy, or anger, unjustifiable as they may be in their outbreaks, are always more dignified and nobler motives than a love-making whose only foundation is licentiousness, and its only excuse frivolity. He gives free play to this feeling in THE COUNT. the enchanting duet with Susanna (Act III., 1); but the situation is rendered endurable to the audience by the knowledge that Susanna is playing a part to please the Countess. Mozart has given this little duet a title to be placed in the first rank of musical works of art by the delicacy with which he has rendered the mixture of encouragement and coyness in Susanna's demeanour, her true motives being as clear to the audience as is the misunderstanding of the Count. The harmonic turns of her evasive answer to his passionate request, "Signor, la donna ognora tempo ha di dir si," are masterpieces of musical diplomacy. Even the piquant conceit by which she answers his urgent questions, "Verrai? non mancherai?" with "si" instead of "no," and vice versa, to his great perplexity, has something more than a merely comic signification.[ 18 ] It characterises most strikingly the security with which she plays with his passion as expressed in these eager, flattering requests. Even here, delight at his hard-won victory predominates over his sensual impulses.
The sensual element of love plays far too great a part in "Figaro," however, to be altogether disregarded in its musical rendering. It would be a difficult matter to determine how far and in what way music is capable of giving artistic expression to this side of the tender passion; but it cannot be disputed that Mozart has in this respect competed successfully with the sister arts of painting and poetry. In Susanna's so-called garden air (Act IV., 5) her longing for her betrothed is expressed with all the tender intensity of purest beauty; but the simple notes, cradled as it were in blissful calm, that seem to be breathed forth "soft as the balmy breath of eve," glow with a mild warmth that stirs the heart to its depth, entrancing the mind, and intoxicating the senses like the song of the nightingale. The pizzicato accompaniment of the air fitly suggests a serenade. It gives the voice free scope, and the sparely introduced wind instruments, as well as the tender passage for the first violin towards the close, only serve to give a finer emphasis to the LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. full body of the voice. The impression of longing delight is intensified by the simplicity of the harmonies, as if from fear of disturbing by any sudden change the calm bliss of the passing moment. But what analysis can penetrate these mysteries of creative genius[ 19 ] Mozart was right to let the feelings of the loving maiden shine forth in all their depth and purity, for Susanna has none but her Figaro in her mind, and the sentiments she expresses are her true ones. Figaro in his hiding-place, listening and suspecting her of waiting the Count's arrival, throws, a cross light on the situation, which, however, only receives its full dramatic signification by reason of the truth of Susanna's expression of feeling. Susanna, without her sensual charm is inconceivable, and a tinge of sensuality is an essential element of her nature; but Mozart has transfigured it into a noble purity which may fitly be compared with the grandest achievements of Greek sculpture.
Nancy Storace (1761-1814), "who possessed in a degree unique at that time, and rare at any time, all the gifts, the cultivation, and the skill which could be desired for Italian comic opera,"[ 20 ] seems to have been a singer to whom Mozart was able to intrust the rendering of this mixture of sentiment and sensuality. When "Figaro" was reproduced in July, 1789, he wrote for Adriana Ferrarese del Bene,[ 21 ] a less refined and finished singer, the air "Al desio di chi t'adora" (577 K.), retaining the RONDO FOR SUSANNA. accompanied recitative.[ 22 ] The words of this song—
Al desio di chi t' adora
Vieni, vola, o mia speranza,
Morirö, se indarno ancora
Tu mi lasci sospirar.
Le promesse, i giuramenti
Deh! ramenta, o mio tesoro!
E i momenti di ristoro
Che mi fece amor aperar.
Ah! che omai più non resisto
All' ardor, che il sen m' accende.
Chi d' amor gli affetti intende,
Compatisca il mio penar.
with the reference to vows and hopes unfulfilled seem better suited to the Countess than to Susanna, though the air is clearly indicated for the latter. Apparently the song was intended to strengthen Figaro in the delusion that it was the Countess he saw before him. The device might intensify the situation, but it was a loss to the musical characterisation, for the air was not altogether appropriate either to Susanna or the Countess. The singer had evidently wished for a grand, brilliant air, and Mozart humoured her by composing the air in two broadly designed and elaborately executed movements, allied in style to the great airs in "Cosi fan Tutte," and in "Titus." The bravura of the voice and orchestra is as entirely foreign to "Figaro" as is the greater display of sensual vigour with which the longing for the beloved one is expressed. Apart from its individual characterisation, the air has wonderful effects of sound and expression, greatly heightened by the orchestra. Basset-horns, bassoons, and horns are employed, occasionally concertante, giving a singularly full and soft tone-colouring to the whole. A draft score, unfortunately incomplete, in Mozart's handwriting, testifies to a later abandoned attempt for a similar song. The superscription is "Scena con Rondo"[ 23 ] the person indicated, Susanna. The beginning of the recitative, both in words and music, is like that of the better-known LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. song, and it expresses the same idea somewhat more diffusely as it proceeds, closing in B flat major. The solitary leaf preserved breaks off at the eighth bar of the rondo; only the voice-part and the bass are given—[See Page Image]
but even this fragment of text and melody suffices to show a complete contrast to the air just mentioned. A little ariette preserved in Mozart's original score and marked "Susanna" (579 K.), has still less of the delicate characterisation which we admire so much in the opera.[ 24 ]The words—
Un moto di gioja
Mi sento nel petto,
Che annunzia diletto
In mezzo il timor.
Speriamo che in contento
Finisca l' affanno,
Non sempre è tiranno fato ed amor—
are trifling, and so commonplace that they suggest no particular situation. Even the music, hastily thrown together and light in every respect, expresses only a superficially excited mood. If, as is probable, the air was intended for the dressing scene,[ 25 ] the want of individual characterisation SUSANNA. becomes all the more observable. It would be a great mistake to consider the character of Susanna as a mere expression of amorous sensuality. This side of it is judiciously displayed first without any reserve, in order to throw into relief her not less real qualities of devoted affection, faithful service, and refined and playful humour. The very scene, not in itself altogether unobjectionable, in which the ladies disguise the page, is turned into an amusing joke by Susanna's innocent and charming merriment. Susanna's air in this scene (Act II., 3) is, technically speaking, a cabinet piece. The orchestra executes an independent piece of music, carefully worked-out and rounded in most delicate detail, which admirably renders the situation, and yet only serves as a foil to the independent voice-part. A tone of playful humour runs through the whole long piece from beginning to end; it is the merriment of youth, finding an outlet in jest and teasing, expressed with all possible freshness and grace. But the high spirit of youth does not exclude deeper feelings where more serious matters are concerned; in the terzet (Act II., 4) where Susanna in her hiding-place listens to the dialogue between the Count and Countess, she displays deep emotion, and expresses her sympathy with truth and gravity. Mozart has indeed grasped this painful situation with a depth of feeling which raises the terzet far above ordinary opera buffa.[ 26 ] In her relations to Figaro, Susanna displays now one, now the other side of her nature. It is judiciously arranged that immediately succeeding her first heartfelt, though not sentimental expression of love (Act I., 1), the second duet (Act I., 2), should display her merry humour. Her consciousness of superiority over Figaro, who learns the Count's designs first through her, combined with the ease of her relations towards them both, resulting from the honesty of her love, enable her to carry off the difficult situation with LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. a spirit and youthful gaiety which contrast with Figaro's deeper emotions. He begins indeed with unrestrained merriment, but the same motif, mockingly repeated by Susanna, becomes a warning which has so serious an effect upon him that not even her endearments can quite succeed in chasing the cloud from his brow.[ 27 ] The ground-tone of the duet, the intercourse of affianced lovers, is expressed with the utmost warmth and animation, and places us at once in the possession of the true state of affairs. Before the end comes, however, we see the couple testing each other's fidelity and measuring their intellectual strength against each other, as when in the last finale Susanna, in the Countess's clothes, puts Figaro to the proof, and he, recognising her, takes his clue accordingly. This duet sparkles with life and joviality, rising, after the explanation, to the most winning expression of tender love.
The characters of the Countess and Cherubino are much less complicated than that of Susanna. The Countess is represented as a loving wife, injured by a jealous and faithless husband. The musical characterisation gives no suggestion of any response, however faint and soon stifled, to the page's advances, but is the most charming expression of ideal purity of sentiment. She suffers, but not yet hopelessly, and the unimpaired consciousness of her own love forbids her to despair of the Count's. Thus she is presented to us in her two lovely songs. The calm peace of a noble mind upon which sorrow and disappointment have cast the first light shadow—too light seriously to trouble its serenity—is expressed with intensest feeling in the first air (Act II., 1). The second (Act III., 4),
when she is on the point of taking a venturous step to recall the Count to her side, is more agitated, and, in spite of the melancholy forebodings which she cannot quite repress, gives expression to a joyful hope of returning happiness. There is no strong passion even here; the Count's affronts CHERUBINO. excite her anger, and the dilemma in which she is, placed awakens her youthful pleasure in teasing. This reminiscence of Rosina in earlier years, combined with the consciousness of her true feeling, so finely expressed by the music, may in some measure supply the motive for the deceit which she thinks herself justified in using towards the Count. Signora Laschi, who took the part of the Countess, was highly esteemed in Italy, but was not a great favourite in Vienna.[ 28 ] Signora Bussani, on the other hand, who appeared for the first time as the page, although not a singer of the first rank, was much admired by the public for her beautiful figure and unreserved acting,[ 29 ] or as Da Ponte says, for her smorfie and pagliacciate.[ 30 ] "Cherubino is undoubtedly one of the most original of musical-dramatic creations, Beaumarchais depicts a youth, budding into manhood, feeling the first stirrings of love, and unceasingly occupied in endeavouring to solve the riddle which he is to himself. Count Almaviva's castle is not a dwelling favourable to virtue, and the handsome youth, who pleases all the women he meets, is not devoid of wanton sauciness: "Tu sais trop bien," he says to Susanna, "que je n'ose pas oser." To Susanna, with whom he can be unreserved, he expresses the commotion of his whole nature in the celebrated air (Act I., 6) which so graphically renders his feverish unrest, and his deep longing after something indefinable and unattainable. The vibration of sentiment, never amounting to actual passion, the mingled anguish and delight of the longing which can never be satisfied, are expressed with a power of beauty raising them out of the domain of mere sensuality, Very remarkable is the simplicity of the means by which this extraordinary effect is attained. A violin accompaniment passage, not unusual in itself, keeps up the restless movement; the harmonies make no striking progressions, strong emphasis and accents are sparingly used, and yet the LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. soft flow of the music is made suggestive of the consuming glow of passion. The instrumentation is here of very peculiar effect and of quite novel colouring; the stringed instruments are muted, and clarinets occur for the first time and very prominently, both alone and in combination with the horns and bassoons.[ 31 ] The romanze in the second act (2) is notably different in its shading. Cherubino is not here directly expressing his feelings; he is depicting them in a romanze, and he is in the presence of the Countess, towards whom he glances with all the bashfulness of boyish passion. The song is in ballad form, to suit the situation, the voice executing the clear, lovely melody, while the stringed instruments carry on a simple accompaniment pizzicato, to imitate the guitar; this delicate outline is, however, shaded and animated in a wonderful degree by solo wind instruments. Without being absolutely necessary for the progress of the melodies and the completeness of the harmonies, they supply the delicate touches of detail reading between the lines of the romanze, as it were, what is passing in the heart of the singer. We know not whether to admire most the gracefulness of the melodies, the delicacy of the disposition of the parts, the charm of the tone-colouring, or tenederness of the expression—the whole is of entrancing beauty.
Unhappily we have lost a third air written for Cherubino. After the sixth scene of the second act, in which Barberina requests the page to accompany her, the original draft score contains the remark: "Segue Arietta di Cherubino; dopo l'Arietta di Cherubino viene scena 7, ma ch' è un Recitativo istromentato con Aria della Confessa," This arietta is not in existence, and probably never was, a change in the arrangement of the scenes having rendered it superfluous. This is to be regretted; Cherubino's intercourse with Barberina would have supplied an essential feature which is now wanting in the opera. But even as it is, the image of DANCE—MARCH. Cherubino is so attractive, so original, that it must unquestionably be reckoned among the most wonderful of Mozart's creations.
Thus we see all the dramatis personæ live and move as human beings, and we unconsciously refer their actions and demeanour to their individual natures, which lie before us clear and well-defined. So great a master of psychological characterisation was under no necessity of calling accessories of costume or scenery to his aid, and declined even to remind us by the use of peculiar musical forms that the action was laid in Spain. This device is only once resorted to. The dance which is performed during the wedding festivities in the third act (Act III., 8, p. 377) reminds us so forcibly of the customary melody for the fandango,[ 32 ] that there can be no doubt this dance was known in Vienna at the time. Gluck has employed the same melody in his ballet of "Don Juan," produced at Vienna in 1761. If Mozart's adaptation be compared with the other two, it will be perceived that he has formed a free and independent piece of music out of some of the characteristic elements of the original, combining dignity and grace in a singular degree; the treatment of the bass and middle pans, and the varied combinations u of the wind instruments heighten the effect of the unusual colouring. At the exclamation of the Gotmt, who has pricked himself with a pin the bassoon strikes up in plaintif tones:—[See Page Image]
which are comically appropriate. But they are not primarily introduced to express pain; they belong to the dance music, and recur at the same point later on in the dance; the point of the joke is the apparently chance coincidence of the dance music with the situation of the moment. The fine march preceding the ballet, the gradual approach of which produces a very effective climax (Vol. II., p. 154, note), takes its LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. peculiar colouring from the constant transition to the minor in the wind instruments—[See Page Images]—without having any very decided national character. Neither are the choruses sung on the same occasion by female voices, or male and female together, particularly Spanish in tone, any more than the chorus in the first act (Act I., 8); they are gay, fresh, very graceful, and exactly fitted to the situation.
Hitherto we have attempted an exposition only of the musical-dramatic characteristics of the opera, the psychological conception which makes the actions of the characters correspond with their individual nature... Not less important are the events and circumstances which give rise to the combined action of the different characters; in the opera this is displayed in ensemble movements. The prevailing principle is here again truth in the expression of feeling; but the juxtaposition of the different characters necessitates a greater stress to be laid on individual peculiarities;
and again, these characteristics of detail must be subordinated to the main idea of producing a well-formed whole. A due balance of parts can only be produced by compliance with the conditions of a musical work of art. The substance and form of these ensemble movements are of course subject to many modifications; many of them are nothing more than a detailed and fuller exposition of some definite situation or mood; and their whole design is therefore simple. Such are the duets between Figaro and Susanna (Act I., i, 2), between Susanna and Marcellina (Act I., 5), the writing duet (Act III., 5), and the duet between the Count and Susanna (Act III., 1); they are distinguished from airs more by their form than their nature. If during the dressing scene Cherubino were to chime in with Susanna's remarks, the Countess were also directly to interpose, such a duet or terzet would represent the situation in greater variety of detail, the form would become richer by means of contrasting ENSEMBLES. elements, but the musical matter would not differ essentially from that to which we are accustomed in solo airs. The terzet in the second act is of this character; a situation or a mood is maintained, and only variously mirrored in the various personages. Here, then, is the point of departure for unity in the grouping of the whole; and the ordinary resources of musical construction, such as the repetition of a motif in different places, the elaboration and combination of the motifs, for the most part lend themselves to the situation.
The difficulty of the task increases in proportion as the music forms part-of the plot. We have an instance of this in the duet between Susanna and Cherubino (Act II., 5); when the latter tries to escape, and finally jumps out of the window. The simple situation gives rise to an expression of fear and disquiet in short, interrupted motifs, and the prevailing characteristic is an agitation almost amounting to action__in progress. The agitation, however, is so characteristically rendered by the music, that, while appearing to flow from an irresistible impulse, it is in reality only an effect of a definite musical formula fitly working out a given motif. The orchestral part forms a separate piece of music of very varied character.[ 33 ]
The terzet of the first act comes in the very middle of the action (Act I., 7). Here we have not merely three persons of dissimilar natures thrown together, but at the particular point in the plot their interests and sentiments are altogether opposed, and each of them is influenced by different suppositions. The plot proceeds, however, and the discovery of the page in the arm-chair gives a turn to affairs which changes the position of each person present. We are struck in the first place with the striking, delicately toned musical expression, especially when the voices go together, as at the beginning, when the Count's anger: "Tosto andate e scacciate il LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. seduttor!" Basilio's lame excuse: "In mal punto son qui giunto," and Susanna's distress: "Che ruina, me meschina!" are all blended into a whole, while preserving throughout their individual characters. The same is the case at the end also, when the Count, taken by surprise, turns his displeasure against Susanna in ironical expressions: "Onestissima signora, or capisco come và"; while she is anxious on her own account: "Accader non puo di peggio!" and Basilio gives free expression to his malice: "Cosi fan tutte le belle!" But while the music appears only to follow the plot, we cannot fail on closer examination to perceive that I we have before us a work constructed and carried out I according to the strictest laws of musical form. It is all so naturally and easily put together that what is really owing to deep artistic insight might be considered by the uninitiated as the result of a fortuitous coincidence of dramatic and musical effects. The intensely comic effect produced by Basilio's repetition of his previous sentence, a fifth higher is brought about of necessity by the musical form. A similar effect is produced when, at the point where a return to the original key leads us to expect a recurrence of the principal subject, the Count, with the same notes in which he had exclaimed, full of resentment at Susanna's intercession; "Parta, parta il damerino!" now turns to Susanna herself with the words: "Onestissima signora, or capisco come và," the point being brought out by the change from forte to pianissimo. Traits like this of delicate dramatic characterisation proceed immediately from the musical construction, and are to be ascribed solely to the composer; the text does not by any means directly suggest them.
The dramatic interest reaches a far higher level in the two great finales. The finale to the second act is judiciously constructed, as far as is compatible with musical exigences, out of the elements already existing in Beaumarchais. The dramatic interest rises with the increasing number of persons taking part in the action, and grows to a climax, while new developments proceeding from the unravelling of each complication bring the actors into ever-varying relations with each other. The different situations afford the most FINALES. animated variety, moving onwards in close connection, but each one keeping its ground long enough to give ample scope for musical elaboration.[ 34 ] The situations thus give rise to the eight movements, distinct in design and character, which form the finale. The masterly combination of the different movements is more effective than would be any amount of emphasis laid on particular points of characterisation. The finale opens with a manifestation of intensest passion—the Count glowing with rage and jealousy, the Countess, wounded to the heart, trembling at the consequences of her imprudence.
In no other part of the opera is the pathetic element express so prominent, the conflict being so strongly expressed that a serious catastrophe appears inevitable. But Susanna's unexpected appearance brings about an explanation, which could not be more aptly expressed than by the rhythmical motif of the second movement.[ 35 ] Susanna's mocking merriment, which for a moment rules the situation, is in some degree moderated by the uncertainty of the two others. The want of repose of the following movement alters the character again, while the chief characters have to adapt themselves to their change of relative position. The Count has to propitiate his wife, without being altogether convinced himself; the Countess's anger and forgiveness both come from the heart, but she feels that she is not now quite in the right. Susanna is exerting herself to bring about explanation and reconciliation, and in so doing takes involuntarily, as it were, the upper hand of the Countess. It is a mimic war, carried on in the most courteous manner; every emotion is broken and disturbed.
Now let us turn to the music. A succession of short motifs, each of which characterises a particular element of the situation, are loosely put together, none of them independently worked out, one driving out the other. But the LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. motifs occur in every case just where dramatic expression demands, and each repetition throws a new light upon the situation, turning the apparent confusion into a well-formed musical whole. Figaro brings an element of unrestrained gaiety into the midst of this troubled atmosphere; the G major following immediately on the E flat major breaks away from all that has gone before. His merriment is truly refreshing, but even he feels some constraint knowing that his secret is betrayed, without being aware of what has led to it. The eagerness with which the Count interrupts him, the anxiety with which the women seek to put him in the right way, his alternate holding back and yielding, give the scene a diplomatic sort of tone, wonderfully well-rendered by a tinge of dignity in the music, which only here and there betrays, involuntarily as it were, more animation. The closing ensemble gives to each of the four voices a mysterious character which is quite inimitable. A complete contrast to this delicate play is afforded by the half-drunken gardener with his denunciation; this opponent requires quite a different treatment. The musical characterisation becomes more lively and broader, the different features more strongly marked. As soon as the Count begins his examination of Figaro, the tone alters again. The remarkable andante 6-8 in which the beating motif—[See Page Image] is hurried through the most varied harmonic transitions expresses an impatience which is scarcely to be kept from violent explosion, quite in accordance with the suspense with which the progress of the explanation is followed by all present without arriving at any satisfactory solution. Finally Marcellina enters with her confederates. The firm, bold pace which is at once adopted by the music marks the commencement of a new struggle; the peril becomes serious, and the change of situation brings about a new FINALES. disposition of the characters. Marcellina, Basilio and Bartolo range themselves on one side, the Countess, Susanna and Figaro on the other, both parties aggressive and prepared for the fight, the Count between them turning first to the one side and then to the other. When the crisis is over, and Marcellina's claim acknowledged, the previous positions are reversed; Marcellina's party has the advantage, Figaro's is defeated. The vanquished party now lose self-command and become violently agitated, while the victors express their triumph with mocking composure. The finale ends in doubled tempos with a diffuse but decided expression of those discordant moods on both sides, bringing the long strife and confusion to an end.[ 36 ] The plan of the second finale is quite different; we plunge at once into the midst of an animated intrigue, one misapprehension and surprise following close upon another. The Countess, disguised as Susanna, awaits the Count; Figaro, and Susanna listen concealed; first the page enters, then the Count, and the play proceeds, every one getting into the wrong place, receiving what is not meant for him, and addressing himself to the wrong person. Mozart has only grasped the amusing side of the complication, and the music maintains a cheerful, lively character, without leaving room for any expression of deeper feeling. By this means whatever is objectionable in the situation seems to spring unavoidably as it were from the facts of the case, on which the play is founded and developed. It is sufficiently astonishing that the music should succeed in following this development step by step in all its turns; the higher art of the master is displayed in his power of representing dramatic life and reality in all its perfection within the limits of a musical movement of scientific conception and form. Nowhere perhaps is the style of intrigue which Zelter praises as the special quality of the opera[ 37 ] brought LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. so prominently forward as in this ensemble. It consists in the art of making each character express himself naturally and appropriately, at the same time rendering the due meaning of the situation and throwing the right light on every separate utterance, while giving the whole a brighter colouring. As soon as Figaro and Susanna are opposed to each other, the tone and style are altered. Serious genuine feeling breaks through the mask of deception, and asserts its sway. Not until the Count enters does the trickery begin again, leading to a succession of surprises which find their climax in the appearance of the Countess. The music renders so bewitchingly the impression of her pardoning gentleness and amiability that we are forced to believe in the sincerity of the reconciliation, and to share in the rejoicings which follow on so many troublous events.[ 38 ]
Next to these two finales a prominent position is assigned to the sestet (Act III., 3) which according to Kelly was Mozart's favourite piece in the whole opera.[ 39 ] This partiality is characteristic, for his amiable nature finds fuller expression in this piece than in any other. The trial scene is omitted in the opera, but the recognition of Figaro by Marcellina and Bartolo is brought into the foreground. The cool sarcastic tone of Beaumarchais gives this scene something unpleasant; but the musical version even here allows human sentiment to assert itself; if it were not for the extraordinary circumstances on which the scene is founded it would be quite pathetic. Both the parents and the son are in the act of expressing the tenderest affection and delight when Susanna hastens in to redeem Figaro. The violence with which she manifests her anger at Figaro's apparent want of constancy is meant quite seriously, and is necessary in order to show how deeply her heart is affected. Amid the caresses of her supposed rival she learns the truth, the charming melody to which Marçellina had made herself known to her THE SESTET. son being transferred to the orchestra while she acquaints Susanna of her relationship to Figaro. Susanna, incredulous of the wonderful story, demands confirmation from each person present in turn, and the situation assumes a comic character, consisting however only in the unexpected turn of events, not in the sentiments of the persons interested, who only wish to be quite sure of their facts before giving themselves up to unmitigated delight. Once assured of their happiness, it overflows in fervent gratitude with an enchanting grace that invests the happy lovers with a sort of inspired and radiant beauty. Mozart has added very much to the effect by keeping the whole passage sotto voce, a device which he always employs with deep psychological truth.[ 40 ] But the lovers are not alone, and the contrast afforded by the other personages present prevents the purely idyllic character which would be incongruous in this scene. One of these is the Count, who with difficulty restrains his rage so far as not to commit himself. The other is the stupid, stuttering judge, Don Curzio, who has pronounced judgment as the Count's tool, and is now amazed at what is passing before him; incapable of an idea, he says first one thing and then another, and finally takes refuge in obsequiously following the opinions of his lord and master. The striking musical effect of the high tenor going with the Count's deep bass gives an expression of cutting irony, and emphasises the stupidity of the judge who chimes in with the Count, without in the least entering into the passions which agitate him. Don Curzio serves here the same purpose as Basiliain the terzet of the first act, mingling a comic element with the expression of a deeper emotion, and modifying, without injuring, the serious ground-tone of the piece. This mode of construction is altogether Mozart's own, and is a striking testimony to his power of grasping and delineating dramatic truth.
Kelly narrates that Mozart begged him not to stutter LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. while he was singing lest the impression of the music should be disturbed. He answered that it would be unnatural if a stutterer should lose his defect as soon as he began to sing, and undertook to do no harm to the music. Mozart gave in at last, and the result was so successful that the sestet had to be repeated, and Mozart himself laughed inordinately. He came on the stage after the performance, shook Kelly by both hands and thanked him, saying: "You were right and I was wrong."[ 41 ] This was doubtless very amiable of Mozart, but his first view was the right one, nevertheless. The artifice might succeed in a master of mimicry, but Don Curzio ought certainly not to be made the principal person in the sestet. On the contrary, he might well be omitted altogether as a musical pleonasm; at least, if Basilio were to be brought in and made to take the same part in the action.
The sestet may be taken as an excellent example of the manner in which Mozart turned his means of representation to account. We are struck first of all with his power of grouping so as to produce a clear and distinct whole. The effect and appreciation of music depends, like architecture, on symmetry. Even though a strict parallelism of the different component parts may be in all but certain cases inapplicable, yet their symmetry must be always present to the apprehension of the hearers. In the musical drama the characterisation of the situation dominates the construction side by side with the laws of musical form. In the sestet before us Marcellina, Bartolo, and Figaro form a natural group, announcing themselves at once as connected from a musical point of view, Marcellina and Bartolo closely corresponding, Figaro forming the uniting member of the little group. Opposed to them we have the Count and Don Curzio, who also keep together, but with greater freedom of independent movement. Susanna's entry introduces a new element. At first she opposes Figaro, and allies herself to the Count, and we have then two strongly characteristic groups of three persons, each with a construction and TREATMENT OF THE VOICE PARTS. movement of its own. The explanation which ensues necessitates the dissolving of the ensemble into a monologue, after which the situation is changed. Susanna goes over to Figaro, Marcellina, and Bartolo, and fresh group is formed, with Susanna as the chief member, though the others do not by any means renounce their independence. Against this concentrated force the discontented minority gives expression to additional energy and resentment, coming to an end in unison. These hints will suffice to show with what a firm mind of the hearers an impression of the perfect freedom of dramatic action, within the limits of strict and simple musical form.
The great stress laid upon dramatic reality necessitated in general simple forms and moderate execution in the musical part of the work. In the airs the traditional form of two elaborate movements is only exceptionally employed the cavatina or rondo form being in most cases preferred and treated freely, although with considerable precision the majority of the duets are similar in design, Mozart having usually written over them duettino, arietta, But neither confined limits nor dramatic interest have been made a pretext for the neglect of well-constructed, well-rounded form;
he never fails to hit upon the right point, whence a whole may be organised. Thus, every separate passage in the finale heightens the contrast, and leads by a 'natural process of development to a conclusion for which '+ helps to prepare the way. What has been said in general terms may be applied to the treatment of details, and primarily of the voices. The dramatic characterisation necessitates perfect freedom in the employment of every source of effect; long-drawn cantilene shorter melodious phrase; well-marked motifs requiring elaborate working-out, declamatory delivery merging into an easy conversational tone—all are employed in their right place, often in rapid alternation and varied combination. It is not sufficient, however that each separate device should be employed effectively the essential point is that they should be placed in right relations with each other, and with the whole of which hand the musical edifice is put together so as to leave on the LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. they form parts. The unhesitating use of the resources of the voice, and the harmony of the effect, are admirable alike in the great ensemble movements and in the smallest passage to be sung; the sestet and the second duet may be brought forward as essentially differing in style and subject, yet each in its place distinguished by delicacy of detail and striking effect. Great simplicity in the treatment of the voices is a noteworthy consequence of this tendency. Song is merely the means adopted for expressing emotion of different kinds. Homely simplicity not only corresponds to truth of expression—it is necessary for the combination of heterogeneous motives, which would otherwise be incomprehensible.
This simplicity, however, is not of the kind that reduces all expression to the same level, and abjures ornament and grace; rather is it the simplicity of a nature which draws its inspiration from the depths of the heart, and excludes all merely virtuoso-like displays which would serve but to glorify the singer.[ 42 ]
An important aid to characterisation and colouring was found by Mozart in the orchestra. We know by what means he had prepared and cultivated every part of a full orchestra as a means of characteristic expression and euphonious charm. His contemporaries were particularly impressed by his use of wind instruments, and in point of fact they were little likely ever to have experienced before the sensations produced by the tender interweaving of the wind instruments in Cherubino's romanze (Act II., 2), or their soft, melting sounds in his air (Act I., 6). In these days we should, indeed, appreciate rather Mozart's moderation in the employment of wind instruments. Trombones are never used, and trumpets and drums only in the overture the march with a chorus (Act III., 7), the closing passages of the finales, and in three airs: those of Bartolo (Act I., 4), Figaro (Act I., 9), and the Count (Act III., 2). This is not saying much; true moderation consists, not so much in THE ORCHESTRA. abstaining from certain methods, as in the way in which those which are employed are held in check. Equally admirable is the masterly treatment of the stringed instruments which form the groundwork of the orchestra, at the same time that the independent movements of the separate instruments develop a fresh and ever-varied vivacity. Mozart has striven above all to preserve a healthy balance of sound effects, and a unity of treatment which never aims at brilliant effects brought about either by an ostentatious extra vagance or an exaggerated economy in the use of his resources; the right effect is produced at the right point, and in the simplest manner, regard being always had to the laws of climax. The simplicity of the voice parts necessitates a corresponding simplicity in the instrumental parts! most distinctly appreciable where they occur obbligato. A comparison with "Idomeneo" and the "Entführung" in this respect will bring out the difference very strongly. The orchestra in the "Entführung" is treated more easily and simply than in "Idomeneo"; in "Figaro" the highest degree of clearness is united with abundant fulness and intensive force of instrumental colouring.
The position here accorded to the orchestra may be regarded as not so much an improvement on earlier operas as an essentially new conception of its powers and functions.[ 43 ] The orchestra appears For the first time not only as an integral part of the whole, but as one with equal rights, taking an independent and active part in the musical-dramatic representation. Such a conception could only be realised when the orchestra and instrumental music had been developed and cultivated as they were by Haydn and Mozart. In this independent position it is neither above nor in opposition to the voices, but each is indispensable to the due effect of the other.
The orchestra is no longer to be looked upon as a mere accompaniment to the voices, but as an independent and co-operating means of representation. And as such we find it in "Figaro." In many passages the orchestra seems to take the lead—as, for instance, in the dressing scene (Act II., 3), when the animated, LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. delicately worked-out orchestral passages not only hold the threads together, but develop the characterisation. At other times the orchestra forms the foundation in the working-out of motifs upon which the voices are suffered to move freely, as in the duet between Susanna and Cherubino (Act II., 5) and in different passages of the finales, the andante 6-8 of the first finale and the first passage of the second. There are, indeed, few numbers in which the orchestra does not temporarily undertake one or the other office, in order to assist the characterisation. The orchestra is never employed in this way with better effect than in the so-called "writing-duet" (Act III., 5). At the close of the recitative the Countess dictates the title, "canzonetta sull' aria," and as soon as Susanna begins to write, the oboes and bassoons take up the ritornello, and undertake to tell, as it were, what Susanna is writing when she is silent and the Countess dictates.[ 44 ] There is a trace here of a subsequent editorial alteration. Instead of the present closing bars of recitative, which are inserted in the original score by a strange hand, there were originally quite different ones, to which the little duet in B flat major could not have immediately succeeded. They probably served as an introduction to a lively scene between the Countess and Susanna, similar to that in Beaumarchais' dialogue. This is confirmed by the first sketch of the writing-duet, which, with the title "Dopo il Duettino," only prefixes the words of the Countess as recitative: "Or via, scrivi cor mio, scrivi! gia tutto io prendo su me stessa." So close an approximation of two duets was most likely the cause of the rejection of the first, with the words of the recitative which called it forth.
Detached features of the orchestral treatment, important as they may be, however, do not constitute its peculiar character; many of them had been previously and successfully attempted by other musicians. The essential point consists in the orchestra taking part, as it were, in the action, so that more often than not the instrumental parts would THE ORCHESTRA—OVERTURE. form a complete and satisfying whole without any voice parts at all. The orchestra, of course, frequently executes the same melodies as the voices, but it treats them in an original manner, producing a constant flow of cross effects with the voices. Sometimes again it works out its own independent motifs, and adds shading and detail to the outlines furnished by the voices. It is not possible to over-estimate the share thus taken by the orchestra in maintaining the main conception of the situation, in increasing the dramatic reality and interest of the plot, and in strengthening the impression made upon the audience.
The capabilities of instrumental music in this direction are most strikingly displayed in the overture, in composing which Mozart appears to have kept before him the second title of Beaumarchais' play, "La Folle Journée." He has made one very characteristic alteration in the course of the overture. At first the rapid impetuous presto was interrupted by a slower middle movement. In the original score the point where the return to the first subject is made (p. 13) is marked by a pause on the dominant-seventh, followed by an andante 6-8 in D minor of which, however, only one bar is preserved:—[See page image]
The leaf on which its continuation and the return to the presto was sketched is torn out, and the portion between vi and de crossed through.[ 45 ] It is plain that Mozart altered his mind when he came to the instrumentation of the overture, which he had sketched in the usual way. Perhaps a middle movement beginning like a Siciliana did not please him; in any case, he thought it better not to disturb the cheerful expression of his opera by the introduction of any foreign element. And in very truth the merry, lively movement pursues its uninterrupted course from the first eager murmur of the violins to the final flourish of trumpets. One bright, cheerful melody succeeds another, running and dancing for very lightness of heart, like a clear mountain stream rippling over the pebbles in the sunshine. A sudden stroke here and there electrifies the motion; and once, when a gentle melancholy shines forth, the merriment is as it were transfigured into the intensest happiness and content. A piece of music can hardly be more lightly and loosely put together than this; there is an entire want of study or elaboration. Just as the impulses of a highly wrought poetic mood exist unobserved, and pass from one to the other, so here one motif grows out of the other, till the whole stands before us, we scarce know how.
A not less important office is undertaken by the orchestra in assisting the psychological characterisation, not only by giving light and shade and colouring through changes of tone-colouring and similar devices unattainable by the voices, but by taking a positive part in the rendering of emotion.
No emotion is so simple as to be capable of a single decided and comprehensive expression. To the voices is intrusted the task of depicting the main features, while the orchestra undertakes to express the secondary and even 'the contradictory impulses of the mind, from the conflict of which arise emotions capable of being expressed in music alone of all the arts. We can scarcely wonder that Mozart's FIGARO AS AN OPERA BUFFA. contemporaries, surprised at the novelty of his orchestral effects, failed to appreciate their true meaning,[ 46 ] nor that his imitators confined themselves to the material result, and failed to perceive the intellectual significance of the improved instrumentation.[ 47 ] The freedom with which Mozart employs voices and orchestra together or apart to express dramatic truths can only exist as the highest result of artistic knowledge and skill. The independence with which each element cooperates as if consciously to produce the whole presupposes a perfect mastery of musical form. True polyphony is the mature fruit of contrapuntal study, although the severe forms of counterpoint are seldom allowed to make themselves visible.
To sum up, there can be no doubt that Mozart's "Figaro" must be ranked above the ordinary performances of opera buffa on higher grounds than its possession of an interesting libretto, a wealth of beautiful melody, and a careful and artistic mechanism. The recognition of truth of dramatic characterisation as the principle of musical representation was an immense gain, and had never even been approached by opera buffa, with its nonsensical tricks and caricatures.
Rossini himself said that Mozart's "Figaro" was a true dramma giocoso, while he and all other Italian composers had only composed opere buffe.[ 48 ] Even though we acknowledge the influence of French opera on Mozart (Vol. II., p. 342) as formed by Gluck,[ 49 ] and still more by Grétry (Vol. II., p. 15),[ 50 ] the first glance suffices to show that Mozart's superior musical cultivation enabled him to employ the resources of his art to LE NOZZE DI FIGARO. a far greater degree than Grétry. Granting also Grétry's undoubted powers of dramatic characterisation and expression of emotion, Mozart's nature is also in these respects far deeper and nobler. Nothing can be more erroneous than the idea that Mozart's merit consisted in taking what was best from Italian and French opera, and combining them into his own; it was solely by virtue of his universal genius' that he was enabled to produce an opera which is at once dramatic, comic, and musical. Chance has decreed that "Figaro" should be an Italian adaptation of a French comedy, set to music by a German; and this being so serves only to show how national diversities can be blended into a higher unity.
A glance by way of comparison at the Italian operas which competed in some respects successfully with "Figaro," such as Sarti's "Fra due litiganti il terrzo godef" Paesiello's.
"Barbiere di Seviglia" and "Re Teodoro," Martin's "Cosa Rara and "Arbore di Diana," or Salieri's "Grotta di Trofonio," may at first excite surprise that they contain so much that reminds us of Mozart, and which we have learnt to identify with Mozart, knowing it only through him. But a nearer examination will show that this similarity is confined to form, for the most part to certain external turns of expression belonging to the time, just as certain forms of speech and manner belong to different periods. In all essential and important points, careful study will serve only to confirm belief in Mozart's originality and superiority. All the operas just mentioned have qualities deserving of our recognition. They are composed with ease and cleverness, with a full knowledge of theatrical effect and musical mechanism, and are full of life and merriment, of pretty melodies, and capital intrigue. But Mozart fails in none of these qualities, and only in minor matters do these other works deserve to be placed side by side with his. None of them can approach him even in some matters of detail, such as the treatment of the orchestra, or the grouping of the ensembles. What is much more important, however, they fail altogether in that wherein consists Mozart's true pre-eminence: in the intellectual organisation, the psychological depth, the VIENNA, 1786. intensity of feeling, and consequent power of characterisation, the firm handling of form and resource, proceeding from that power, and the purity and grace which have a deeper foundation than merely sensual Beauty. Those operas have long since disappeared from the stage, because no amount of success in details will preserve in being any work uninteresting as a whole. Mozart's "Figaro" lives on the stage, and in every musical circle; youth is nourished on it, age delights in it with ever-increasing delight. It requires no external aid for its apprehension; it is the pulse-beat of our own life which we feel, the language of our own heart that we catch the sound of, the irresistible witchery of immortal beauty which enchains us—it is genuine, eternal art which makes us conscious of freedom and bliss.
