Opera Books
THE OPERA
EDITED BY
ALBERT HILLERY BERGH
VOLUME I.
1909
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Mozart.
His Career and Operatic Masterpieces.
Johann Chrysostom
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born in 1756 at Salzburg, when Haydn was
already twenty-four years of age. He died in 1791, eighteen years before
the elder musician, to the eternal loss of musical art. At the very
earliest age the child showed his marvellous capacity, and fortunately
his father, a man of sense and a good musician, was well able to direct
his studies, which, indeed, wanted but little direction. The elder
Mozart was court musician, and afterwards vice-capellmeister at the
court of the Prince Archbishop of Salzburg. Of his numerous family two
only grew up, Nannerl (Maria Ann), born in 1751, and the great composer.
Both children showed great musical ability, but the genius of the little
Wolfgang was most precocious. At the age of three he would pick out
thirds on the harpsichord, and try to imitate what his sister played. In
his fifth year he began to compose little pieces, which his father wrote
down in a book fortunately preserved. In addition to the harpsichord, he
learned the violin, and the progress of both children was so rapid that
their father decided on taking them on a tour. In January, 1762, they
arrived in Vienna. The boy was most engaging, both in appearance and
manner, and remained perfectly natural and unspoiled. The tour was a
brilliant success. Everywhere they were received with delight,
especially by the
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Imperial family, and both the Empress Maria Theresa and her husband
Francis I were excellent musicians.
In June, 1763, Leopold Mozart with difficulty again got leave of
absence and started with his children for Paris, visiting the German
courts on the road. Paris was not reached till November 18th. Grimm, the
well-known littérateur, was their good friend, arranging concerts
and introducing them at Court, where the children were received with the
greatest kindness and admiration. Here the boy’s first work was
published,. four sonatas for harpsichord and violin. “par J. C.
Wolfgang Mozart de Salzburg agé de sept ans.” It was decided to
continue the journey to London, where they arrived on April 23d, 1764.
In a few days they were summoned to Buckingham House, and had no reason
to be dissatisfied with their reception. “We have met with extraordinary
politeness at every Court, but what we have experienced here surpasses
all the rest,” writes the father.
Space fails to give particulars of all the travels of this
remarkable family. The year 1768 found them again in Vienna, where, at
the Emperor’s suggestion, Wolfgang wrote his first opera, La Finta
Semplice. Owing to intrigues it was not performed there, but was
brought out the following year at Salzburg at the instance of the
Archbishop, who appointed the young composer concert-meister. Meanwhile
Mozart’s studies continued, Fux’s Gradus forming his text-book. But a
visit to Italy was looked on as a part of the education of every
musician, and in December, 1769, Leopold Mozart and his son set forth.
It was a triumphal progress. At Bologna he was received with open arms
by the Padre
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Martini, a prodigy of musical learning, who put him through every test,
and subsequently he was made a com- posit ore of the Accademia
Filarmonica of that city. They reached Rome in Holy Week, and at once
went to the Sistine Chapel to hear the famous Miserere of Allegri,
the music of which was held in such esteem that the Papal singers were
forbidden to take any copy out of the Chapel under pain of
excommunication. This elaborate work, as we have already mentioned, the
boy of fourteen wrote out entirely from memory, taking his copy on Good
Friday, that he might correct it by a second hearing. For Milan he wrote
an opera, Mitridate, produced in December, 1770, with the
greatest success.
In March, 1772, the Archbishop of Salzburg died. He was succeeded
by Hieronymous, Count Colleredo, who appears to have done all he could
to vex and offend his young concert-meister, whose transcendent
abilities he was incapable of appreciating. This studied neglect made
him endeavor to obtain a position elsewhere. Successes achieved by his
operas both in Milan and Munich served only to set the Archbishop still
more against him. The circumstances of the Mozart family were straitened,
and the greatest composer of the age was asking only for such a modest
position as would enable him to bring to a hearing the works which he
knew were floating in his brain. There was no other course than to
resume his career of traveling virtuoso, and he started once again for
Paris, this time accompanied by his mother. The journey was the cause of
much unhappiness. During his stay in Paris his mother died.
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At Mannheim he made the acquaintance
of the Weber family, and with the eldest daughter, Aloysia, a young
singer of great beauty and ability, he fell in love. The attachment was
mutual, but on his return he found that her feelings for him had changed.
She subsequently married the actor Lange. An air which Mozart wrote for
her shows how great a singer she must have been. During his absence he
had been appointed organist to the Archbishop, and in deference to his
father’s wishes he returned to take up his appointment; but his position
soon became unbearable, and a complete rupture took place. His ruffled
feelings were soothed by the reception of his opera Idomeneo at
Munich, in 1781. With this opera began the splendor of Mozart’s career.
The break with the Archbishop occurred in Vienna, whither he had
repaired to congratulate the Emperor Joseph on his succession. It was
necessary for Mozart at once to find lodgings. Madame Weber, now a widow,
was living in Vienna in needy circumstances, drawn there by the
engagement of her eldest daughter Aloysia, now Madame Lange, as
principal singer at the Kational Theatre. With the Weber family Mozart
took up his abode. Leopold Mozart at once took fright, and desired him
to find other lodgings, in spite of his protests that matrimony was the
farthest thing from his thoughts. During the early part of his residence
in Vienna he was principally known as a pianist The Emperor Joseph
received him with great cordiality, but his sympathies were with the
Italian musicians, who had oh. tamed a strong footing at the Austrian
Court. Mozart was in much request as a teacher, and among others the
Baroness Waldstiitten and Countess Thun, who had also
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studied with Haydn, became his pupils. By the musicians he was received
with jealousy, except by Haydn, who always showed an unaffected
admiration for his genius.
At last he was commissioned by the Emperor to compose the music for
the libretto of the Entführung aus dern Serail, but owing to the
cabals of his rivals—principally Salieri—it was not produced till July
16th, 1782. The success of the work was triumphant, although the Emperor
expressed the opinion that it was “too fine for our ears, my dear
Mozart,—too many notes!” to which the composer replied: “Exactly as many
notes as are necessary, your Majesty.”
During the progress of the opera his intimacy with the Webers had
been ripening, and it ended in a mutual attachment between Mozart and
the youngest daughter, Constance. The elder Mozart withheld his consent,
nor was the attitude taken by Madame Weber much more propitious, while
her ill-temper made Constance’s life almost unbearable. A friend
appeared in the person of Baroness Waldstätten, who took the girl into
her own house, and by her good offices the lovers were united on August
4th, 1782. To complete Mozart’s happiness, a letter of consent from his
father arrived the following day. To Constance, Mozart was sincerely
attached, and continued to be so. She played the pianoforte fairly well,
and was a good singer, especially at sight. Unfortunately she soon
became delicate, and, although not extravagant, did not shine as a
domestic manager, so that household cares weighed heavily on Mozart for
the rest of his life.
And now he entered on a period of the greatest activity
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as a composer. In the year 1784 Mozart began to keep a catalogue of his
compositions as they were produced. It is a catalogue of masterpieces.
In the early part of 1786 we find the music to the comedy Der
Schauspiel Director followed in April of the same year by Le
Nozze di Figaro. Strange to say, the effect produced by this
masterpiece was comparatively small, and it was only when brought out at
Prague in the following year that it was received with the enthusiasm it
deserved.
So pleased was the composer at this result that he exclaimed, “The
Bohemians understand me so well I must write an opera for them!” The
result was his masterpiece, Don Giovanni. In September, 1787, he
repaired to Prague, accompanied by his wife, with a view to composing
his opera on the spot. The whole was laid out in his mind, but as yet
not a note committed to paper. The work was carried on in a garden house
in the suburbs belonging to his friend Duschek, a musician. It was much
frequented by his acquaintances, who were in the habit of enjoying a
game of bowls in the garden. Amid this scene of merriment the work was
carried on, the composer frequently breaking off to take his turn in the
game.
The opera was produced on October 29th, 1787. On the previous
evening the overture had not been written. At his request his wife made
him a glass of punch, and told him fairy tales to keep him awake while
he composed his overture. As soon as she stopped talking he be-came
drowsy, and she, therefore, persuaded him to take some rest, awaking him
at five o’clock. He had ordered the copyists to come at seven, and by
that time the overture
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was finished. The parts were copied during the day, and the overture
played without rehearsal at night amid a scene of tumultuous applause,
which continued as number after number added to the delight of the
audience. Prague once again showed its thorough appreciation of the
master.
At Vienna its reception was less enthusiastic—the Viennese found
the music too learned for their taste, but even there its beauties
gradually made their way. The dramatic power of the music, its wealth of
melody, form the delight of all who have an ear for “sweet sounds,”
while the learned contrivance displayed is the wonder and admiration of
the musician.
The year 1790 saw the production of the opera Cosi fan tutte,
the libretto of which was not to his taste, so that the work hardly
rises to his standard of excellence. We now come to the last year of the
great musician’s life. To help his friend Schickaneder, director of a
theatre in Vienna, out of a pecuniary difficulty, he undertook to write
for him a German opera, Die Zauberflöte.
The health of Mozart was now giving way. During the composition
of the opera he received the visit of a mysterious stranger, who banded
him an anonymous letter asking the sum he would require for the
composition of a requiem, and the time necessary to execute the
commission. It is now ascertained that the mysterious stranger was the
steward of Count Franz von Walsegg, that the requiem was for his wife,
and that he was desirous of passing himself off as the composer, as he
had done before with other works similarly commissioned. But Mozart was
weakened by illness, and
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could not rid himself of the idea that the messenger was supernatural,
and the requiem intended for his own death.
In the meantime he was called upon to compose an opera, Le
Clemeuza di Tito, by the Bohemian nobles, to celebrate the
coronation of the Emperor Leopold II. Well disposed as the inhabitants
of Prague were to Mozart, the work, written against time, was received
with coldness, and he returned to Vienna, sick in mind and body, to set
to work again on Die Zauberflöte and the requiem. The opera was
brought out with unbounded success, lie now set to work on the requiem,
more than ever confirmed in the idea that it was for himself.
Full of gloomy fancies, he became convinced that he was poisoned.
On November 21st he took to his bed, from which he never rose again. The
requiem lay constantly on his bed, and his young friend Silssmayer, who
had assisted him in the composition of La Clemenza, received his
instructions as to the filling up of the score. At two o’clock on the
fourth of December, some friends who were visiting him sang through the
score, he himself being able to take the alto part. On arriving at the
“Lacrymosa” he burst into tears and laid down the music. Towards evening
it was evident that death was near, and at one o’clock in the morning of
December 5th the great musician ceased to breathe. Then only did the
Viennese find out what a loss they had sustained.
Mozart had barely completed his thirty-sixth year, but the number
of his compositions was enormous. The excellent catalogue drawn up by
Von Köchel contains
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six hundred and twenty-six works, in addition to those which were
unfinished. Among them are many works of the highest genius. Perhaps his
greatness was most fully shown in his operatic work, but in all forms of
composition he excelled. Mozart’s Operas.
Mozart’s Operas.
La Finta Simplice
is, of course, an extraordinary work when we
take into account that the composer was only twelve years of age, but
intrinsically it differs little from the thousand and one comic operas
of the period. Mozart’s first German opera, Bastien und Bastienne,
though written after La Finta Simplice, was performed before
it. It was given in 1768 in a private theatre belonging to Dr. Anton
Meszmer, a rich Viennese bourgeois. It follows the lines of Hiller’s
Singspiele closely, but shows more originality, especially in the
orchestration, than La Finta Semplice. The plot of the little
work is an imitation of Rousseau’s Devin du Village, telling of
the quarrels of a rustic couple, and their reconciliation through the
good offices of a traveling conjurer. It was significant that the
Italian and German schools should be respectively represented in the two
infant works of the man who was afterwards to fuse the special beauties
of each in works of immortal loveliness.
Mozart’s next four operas were, for the most part, hastily written—Mitridate,
Re di Ponto (1770) and Lucio Silla (1775) for Milan, La
Finta Giardiniera (1775) for Munich, and Il Re Pastore (1775)
for Salzburg. They adhere pretty closely to the conventional
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forms of the day, and, in spite of the beauty of many of the airs, can
scarcely be said to contain much evidence of Mozart’s incomparable
genius.
The period of Mozart’s visit to Paris, in 1778, may be looked upon
as the turning-point in his operatic career. In Paris he heard the
operas of Glück and Grétry, besides those of the Italian composers, such
as Piccinni and Sacchini, whose best works were written for the French
stage. He studied their scores carefully, and from them he learned the
principles of orchestration, which he was afterwards to turn into such
account in Don Giovanni and Die Zauberflöte.
The result of his studies was plainly visible in Idomeneo,
the first work which he produced after his return to Germany.
Opera in three acts by
Mozart. Libretto by Giambattista Varesco.
Characters: Idomeneo, King of Crete; Idamantes, his son; Ilia,
daughter of King Priam; Arbaces, counsellor of the King; High Priest.
Place, Crete. Time, shortly after the conclusion of the Trojan war.
First produced at Munich in 1781.
The libretto of Idomeneo, by the Abbé Giambattista Varesco, was
modelled upon an earlier French work which had already been set to music
by Campra. Idomenco, King of Crete, on his way home from the siege of
Troy, is overtaken by a terriffic storm. In despair of his life, he vows
that, should he reach the shore alive, he will sacrifice the first human
being he meets to Neptune. This proves to be his son, Idamante,
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who has been reigning in his stead during his absence. When he finds out
who the victim is—for at first he does not recognize him—he tries to
evade his vow by sending Idamante away to foreign lands.
Electra, the daughter of Agamemnon, driven from her country after
the murder of her mother, has taken refuge in Crete, and Idomeneo bids
his son return with her to Argos, and ascend the throne of the Atreidæ.
Idamante loves Ilia, the daughter of Priam, who has been sent to Crete
some time before as a prisoner from Troy, and is loved by her in return.
Nevertheless, he bows to his father’s will, and is preparing to embark
with Electra, when a storm arises, and a frightful sea monster issues
from the waves and proceeds to devastate the land. The terror-stricken
people demand that the victim shall be produced, and Idomeneo is
compelled to confess that he has doomed his son to destruction.
All are overcome with horror, but the priests begin to prepare for
the sacrifice. Suddenly cries of joy are heard, and Idamante, who has
slain the monster single-handed, is brought in by the priests and
people. lie is ready to die, and his father is preparing to strike the
fatal blow, when Ilia rushes in and entreats to be allowed to die in his
place. The lovers are still pleading anxiously with each other when a
subterranean noise is heard, the statue of Neptune rocks, and a solemn
voice pronounces the will of the gods in majestic ac cents. Idomeneo is
to renounce the throne, and Idamante is to marry Ilia and reign in his
stead. Every one except Electra is vastly relieved, and the opera ends
with dances and rejoicings.
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The music of Idomeneo is cast for the most part in Italian
form, though the influence of Glück is obvious in many points,
particularly in the scene of the oracle. here we find Mozart in his
maturity for the first time. He has become a man, and put away childish
things. In two points Idomeneo is superior to any opera that had
previously been written—in the concerted music (the choruses as well as
the trios and quartets), and in the instrumentation. The chorus is
prompted from the part which it usually plays in Glück, that of a
passive spectator. It joins in the drama, and takes an active part in
the development of the plot, and the music which it is called upon to
sing is often finer and more truly dramatic than that alloted to the
solo singers. But the chorus had already been used effectively by Glück
and other composers.
It is in his solo concerted music that Mozart forges ahead of all
possible rivals. The power which he shows of contrasting the conflicting
emotions of his characters in elaborate concerted movements was
something really new to the stage. The one quartet in Handel’s
Radamisto and the one trio in his Alcina, magnificent as they
are, are too exceptional in their occurrence to be quoted as instances,
while the attempts of Rameau and his followers to impose dramatic
significance into their concerted music, though technically interesting,
do but faintly foreshadow the glory of Mozart. The orchestration of
Idomeneo, too, is something of the nature of a revelation. At
Munich, Mozart had at his disposal an excellent and well-trained band,
and this may go far to explain the elaborate care which he bestowed upon
the instrumental side of his opera.
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The coloring of the score is sublime in conception and brilliant in
detail. Even now it well repays the closest and most intimate study.
Idomeneo is practically the foundation of all modem orchestration.
The Abduction from the Seraglio.
Comic opera in three
acts by Mozart. Libretto by Brentzner and Stephanie.
Characters: Selim Bassa; Konstauze; Blöndchen, her servant;
Belmonte; Pedrillo, his servant; Osmin, overseer of the country house of
the Bassa.
Place, the country house of Bassa. Time, sixteenth century. First
produced in 1782 at the National Theatre of Vienna.
It has already been pointed out that the first two works which
Mozart, as a child, wrote for the stage, followed respectively the
Italian and German models. Similarly, he signalized his arrival at the
full maturity of his powers by producing an Italian and German
masterpiece side by side. Die Entführung aus dem Serail was
written for the Court Theatre at Vienna, in response to a special
command of the Emperor Joseph II. It was produced on July 13, 1782. The
original libretto was the work of C. F. Brentzner, but was rewritten by
Stephanie at the request of Mozart Mozart, however, introduced so many
alterations and improvements into the fabric of the story that, as it
stands, much of it is practically his own work.
The Pasha Selim has carried off a Christian damsel named Constanze,
whom he keeps in close confinement
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in his seraglio, in the hope that she may consent to be his wife.
Belmont, Constanze’s lover, has traced her to the Pasha’s country house
with the assistance of Pedrillo, a former servant of his own, now the
Pasha’s slave and chief gardener. Belmont’s attempts to enter the house
are frustrated by Osmin, the surly major-domo. At last, however, through
the good offices of Pedrillo, he contrives to gain admission in the
character of an architect. Osmin has a special motive for disliking
Pedrillo, who has forestalled him in the affections of Blöndchen,
Constanze’s maid. Nevertheless, he is beguiled by the wily servant into
a drinking bout, and quieted with a harmless narcotic. This gives the
lovers an opportunity for an interview in which the details of their
flight are arranged.
The next night they make their escape. Belmont gets off safely with
Constanze, but Pedrillo and Blöndchen are seen by Osmin before they are
clear of the house. The hue and cry is raised, and both couples are
caught and brought back. They are all condemned to death, but the
soft-hearted Pasha is so much overcome by their fidelity and
self-sacrifice that he pardons them and sends them away in happiness.
Much of Die Entführung is so thoroughly and characteristically
German, that at first sight it may be thought surprising that it should
have succeeded so well in a city like Vienna, which was inclined to look
upon the Singspiel as a barbarian product of Northern Germany But there
is a reason for this, and it is one which goes to the root of the whole
question of comic opera. Mozart saw that Italian comic operas often
succeeded in spite of miserable libretti, because the entire interest
was concentrated
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upon the music, and all the rest was forgotten. The German Singspiel
writers made the mistake of letting their music be, for the most part,
merely incidental, and conducting all the dramatic part of their plots
by dialogue. Mozart borrowed the underlying idea of the opera buff a,
applied it to the form of the Singspiel, which he kept intact, and
produced a work which succeeded in revolutionizing the history of German
opera.
But, apart from the question of form, the music of Die
Entführung is in itself fine enough to be the foundation even of so
imposing a structure as modern German music. The orchestral forces at
Mozart’s disposal were on a smaller scale than at Munich; but though
less elaborate than that of Idomeneo, the score of Die
Entführung is full of the tenderest and purest imagination.
The real importance of the work lies in the vivid power of
characterization, which Mozart here reveals for the first time in full
maturity. It is by the extraordinary development of this quality that he
transcends all other writers for the stage before or since. It is no
exaggeration to say that Mozart’s music reveals the inmost soul of the
characters of his opera as plainly as if they were discussed upon a
printed page. In his later works the opportunities given him of proving
this magical power were more frequent and better. The libretto of Die
Entführung is a poor affair at best, but, considering the materials
with which he had to work, Mozart never accomplished truer or more
delicate work than in the music of Belmont and Constanze, of Pedrillo,
and the greatest of all, of Osmin.
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Der Scliauspieidireckor is a one-act comedy describing the struggles of two rival singers for an engagement A sparkling overture and a genuinely comic trio are the best numbers of the score; but the libretto gave Mozart little opportunity of exercising his peculiar talents. Since his original production various attempts have been made to fit Der Schauspieldirektor with new and more effective libretti, but in no case has its performance attained any real success.
For the sake of completeness it may be well to mention the existence of a comic opera entitled L’Oie du Caire, which is an exceedingly clever combination of the fragments left by Mozart of two unfinished operas, L’Oca del Cairo and Lo Sposo Deluso, fitted to a new and original libretto by the late M. Victor Wilder. In its modern form, this little opera, in which a lover is introduced into his mistress’ garden inside an enormous goose, has been successfully performed both in France and England and other countries.
Comic opera in four
acts by Mozart. Libretto by Lorenzo Da Ponte, founded upon the comedy of
Beaumarchais.
Characters: Count Ahnaviva; the Countess, his wife; Figaro, valet
to the Count; Susanna, his bride;
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Cherubino, page to the Count; Marzelline, housekeeper; Bartholdi,
physician; Basilio, music master; Don Guzman, judge; Antonio, gardener
to the Court; Barbarina, his daughter.
Place, Spain. First produced at Vienna in 1786.
Not even the success of Die Entführung could permanently
establish German opera in Vienna. The musical sympathies of the
aristocracy were entirely Italian, and Mozart had to bow to expediency.
Le Nozze di Figaro was written to an adaptation of Beaumarchais’s
famous comedy Le Mariage de Figaro, which had been produced in
Paris a few years before. This opera may be said to be the continuation
of Rossini’s Barbiere di Seviglia. Da Ponte, the librettist,
wisely omitted all the political references, which contributed so much
to the popularity of the original play, and left only a bustling comedy
of intrigue, not perhaps very moral in tendency, but full of amusing
incident and unflagging in spirit. It speaks volumes for the ingenuity
of the librettist that though the imbroglio is often exceedingly
complicated, no one feels the least difficulty in following every detail
of it on the stage, though it is by no means easy to give a clear and
comprehensive account of all the ramifications of the plot.
The scene is laid at the country-house of Count Almaviva. Figaro,
the Count’s valet, and Susanna, the Countess’s maid, are to be married
that day; but Figaro, who is well aware that the Count has a penchant
for his fiancée, is on his guard against machinations in that
quarter. The page, Cherubino, is an ardent youth who is devotedly
attached to his mistress. He has been caught by the Count flirting with
Barbarina, the gardener’s
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daughter, and promptly dismissed from his service, and now he comes to
Susanna to entreat her to intercede for him with the Countess. While the
two are talking they hear the Count approaching, and Susanna hastily
hides Cherubino behind a large armchair. The Count comes to offer
Susanna a dowry if she will consent to meet him that evening, but she
will have nothing to say to him. Basiiio, the music-master, now enters,
and the Count has only just time to slip behind Cherubino’s arm-chair
while the page creeps round to the front of it, and is covered by
Susanna with a cloak. Basilio, while repeating the Count’s proposals,
refers to Cherubino’s passion for the Countess. This arouses the Count,
who comes forward in a fury, orders the immediate dismissal of the page,
and by the merest accident discovers the unlucky youth ensconced in the
arm-chair.
As Cherubino has heard every word of the interview, the first thing
to do is to get him out of the way. The Count, therefore, presents him
with a commission in his own regiment, and bids him pack off to Seville
posthaste. Figaro now appears with all the villagers in holiday attire
to ask the Count to honor his marriage by giving the bride away. The
Count cannot refuse, but postpones the ceremony for a few hours in the
hope of gaining time to prosecute his suit Meanwhile the Countess,
Susanna, and Figaro are maturing a plot of their own to discomfit the
Count and bring him back to the feet of his wife. Figaro writes an
anonymous letter to the Count, telling him that the Countess has made an
assignation with a stranger for that evening in the garden, hoping by
this means to arouse his jealousy
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and divert his mind from the wedding. lie assures him also of Susanna’s
intention to keep her appointment in the garden, intending that
Cherubino, who has been allowed to put off his departure, shall be
dressed up as a girl and take Susanna’s place at the interview.
The page comes to the Countess’s room to be dressed, when suddenly
the conspirators hear the Count approaching. Cherubino is hastily locked
in an inner room, while Susanna slips into an alcove. While the Count is
plying his wife with angry questions, Cherubino clumsily knocks over a
chair. The Count hears the noise, and quickly jumps to the conclusion
that the page is hiding in the inner room. The Countess denies
everything and refuses to give up the key, whereupon the Count drags her
off with him to get an axe to break in the door. Meanwhile Susanna
liberates Cherubino, and takes his place in the inner room, while the
latter escapes by jumping down into the garden. When the Count finally
opens the door and discovers only Susanna within, his rage is turned to
mortification, and be is forced to sue for pardon.
The Countess is triumphant, hut a change is given to the position
of affairs by the appearance of Antonio, the gardener, who comes to
complain that his flowers have been destroyed by someone jumping on them
from the window. The Count’s jealous fears are returning, but Figaro
allays them by declaring that he is the culprit, and that he made his
escape by the window in order to avoid the Count’s anger. Antonio then
produces a paper which he found dropped among the flowers. This proves
to be Cherubino’s commission. Once more the secret is nearly out, but
Figaro saves the
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situation by declaring that the page gave it to him to get the seal
affixed. The Countess and Susanna are beginning to congratulate
themselves on their escape, when another diversion is created by the
entrance of Marcellina, the Countess’s old duenna, and Bartolo, her ex-guardian.
Marcellina has received a promise in writing from Figaro that he will
marry her if he fails to pay a sum of money which he owes her by a
certain date, and she comes to claim her bridegroom. The Count is
delighted at this new development, and promises Marcellina that she
shall get her rights.
The second act (according to the original arrangement) is mainly
devoted to clearing up the various difficulties. Figaro turns out to be
the long-lost son of Marcellina and Bartolo, so the great impediment to
his marriage is effectually removed, and by the happy plan of a disguise
the Countess takes Susanna’s place at the assignation, and receives the
ardent declarations of her husband. When the Count discovers his mistake
he is thoroughly ashamed of himself, and his vows of amendment bring the
piece to a happy conclusion.
It seems hardly possible to write critically of the music of Le
Nozze di Figaro. Mozart had in a superabundant degree that power
which is characteristic of our greatest novelists, of infusing the
breath of life into his characters. We rise from seeing a performance of
Le Nozze with no consciousness of the art employed, but with a feeling
of having assisted in an actual scene in real life. It is not until
afterwards that the knowledge is forced upon us that this convincing
presentment of nature is the result of a combination of the purest
inspiration of genius with the highest development
{75}
of art. Mozart knew everything that was to be known about music, and
Le Nozze di Figaro, in spite of its supreme and unapproachable
beauty, is really only the legitimate outcome of two centuries of steady
development. Perhaps the most striking feature of the work is the
absolute consistency of the whole. In spite of the art with which the
composer has individualized his characters, there is no clashing between
the different types of music allotted to each.
As for the music itself, if the exuberant youthfulness of Die
Entführung has been toned down to a serener flow of courtliness, we
are compensated for the loss by the absence of the mere bravura
which disfigures many of the airs in the earlier work. The dominant
characteristic of the music is that wise and tender sympathy with the
follies and frailties of mankind, which moves us with a deeper pathos
than the most terrific tragedy ever penned. It is perhaps the highest
achievement of the all-embracing genius of Mozart that he made an
artificial comedy of intrigue, which is trivial when it is not squalid,
into one of the great music dramas of the world.
Opera in two acts by
Mozart. Libretto by Lorenzo Da Ponte.
Characters: Don Giovanni; Don Pedro; Donna Anna, his daughter; Don
Ottavio, her betrothed; Donna Elvira; Leporello, servant to Don Juan;
Masetto, a peasant; Zerline, his betrothed.
Place, Seville. Time, seventeenth century. First produced at Prague
in 1787.
{76}
Don Giovanni was written for Prague, a
city which bad always shown Mozart more real appreciation than Vienna.
It was adapted by Da Ponte from a Spanish tale which had already been
utilized by Molière. Although, so far as incident goes, it is not
perhaps an ideal libretto, it certainly contains many of the elements of
success. The characters are strongly marked and distinct, and the
supernatural part of the story, which appealed particularly to Mozart’s
imagination and, indeed, determined him to undertake the opera, is
managed with consummate skill.
Don Giovanni, a licentious Spanish nobleman, who is attracted by
the charms of Donna Anna, the daughter of the Commandant of Seville,
breaks into her palace under cover of night, in the hope of making her
his own. She resists him and calls for help. In the struggle which
ensues the Commandant is killed by Don Giovanni, who escapes
unrecognized. Donna Elvira, his deserted wife, has pursued him to
Seville, but be employs his servant Leporello to occupy her attention
while he pays court to Zerlina, a peasant girl, who is about to marry an
honest clodhopper named Masetto. Donna Anna now recognizes Don Giovanni
as her father’s assassin, and communicates her discovery to her lover,
Don Ottavio; Elvira joins them, and the three vow vengeance against the
libertine. Don Giovanni gives a ball in honor of Zerlina’s marriage, and
in the course of the festivities seizes an opportunity of trying to
seduce her. He is only stopped by the interference of Anna, Elvira and
Ottavio, who have made their way into his palace in masks and dominoes.
In the next act the vengeance of the three conspirators
{77}
appears to hang fire a little, for Don Giovanni is still pursuing his
vicious courses, and employing Leporello to beguile the too trustful
Elvira. After various escapades he find himself before the statue of the
murdered Commandant. lie jokingly invites his old antagonist to sup with
him, an invitation which the statue, to his intense surprise, hastens to
accept. Leporello and his master return to prepare for the entertainment
of the evening. When the merriment is at its height, a heavy step in
heard in the corridor, and the marble man enters. Don Giovanni is still
undaunted, and even when his terrible visitor offers him the choice
between repentance and damnation, yields not a jot of his pride and
insolence. Finally the statue grasps him by the hand and drags him down,
amid flames and earthquakes, to eternal torment.
The taste of Mozart’s time would not permit the drama to finish
here. All the other characters have to assemble once more. Leporello
gives them an animated description of his master’s destruction, and they
proceed to draw a most edifying moral from the doom of the sinner. The
music to this finale is of matchless beauty and interest, but modern
sentiment will not hear of so grievous an anti-climax, and the opera now
usually ends with Don Giovanni’s disappearance.
The music of Don Giovanni has so often been discussed, that
brief reference to its more salient features will be all that is
necessary. Gounod has written of it:
“The score of Don Giovanni has {influenced} my life like a
revelation. It stands in my thoughts as an {incarnation} of dramatic and
musical impeccability,” and lesser men will be content to echo his words.
The plot is less
{78}
dramatically coherent than that of Le Nozze di Figaro, but it
ranges over a far wider gamut of human feeling. From the comic rascality
of Leporello to the unearthly terrors of the closing scene is a vast
step, but Mozart is equally at home in both. His incomparable art of
characterization is here displayed in even more consummate perfection
than in the earlier work.
The masterly way in which he differentiates the natures of his
three soprani—Anna, a type of noble purity; Elvira, a loving and
long-suffering woman, alternating between jealous indignation and
voluptuous tenderness; and Zerlina, a model of rustic coquetry—may
especially be remarked, but all the characters are treated with the same
profound knowledge of life and human nature. Even in his most
complicated concerted pieces he never loses grip of the idiosyncrasies
of his characters, and in the most piteous and tragic situations he
never relinquishes for a moment his pure ideal of intrinsic musical
beauty. If there be such a thing as immortality for any work of art, it
must surely be conceded to Don Giovanni.
Comic opera in two
acts by Mozart. Libretto by Lorenzo Da Ponte.
Characters: Fiordiligi; Dorabella, her sister; Ferrando, officer;
Guglielmo, officer; Alfonso, bachelor; Despina, maid.
Place, Naples. Time, eighteenth century. First produced at Vienna
in 1790.
{79}
Cosi fan tutte has never been so
successful as its two predecessors. This is chiefly due to its libretto,
which, though a brisk little comedy of intrigue, is almost too slight to
bear a musical setting. The plot turns upon a wager laid by two young
officers with an old cynic of their acquaintance to prove the constancy
of their respective sweethearts. After a touching leavetaking they
return disguised as Albanians and proceed to make violent love each one
to the other’s financée. The ladies at first resist the ardent
strangers, but end by giving way, and the last scene shows their
repentance and humiliation when they discover that the two attractive
foreigners are their own lovers after all There is much delightful music
in the work, and it is greatly to be regretted that it should have been
so completely cast into the shade by Le Nozze di Figaro.
Opera in two acts by
Mozart. Libretto by Caterino Mazzola. Adapted from Pietro Metastasio.
Characters: Titus Vespasianus, Roman Emperor; Vitellia, daughter of
Vitellius; Titus Sextus, friend of Titus; Servillia, sister of Sextus;
Annius, friend of Sextus; Plubius, leader of the Praetoriæ.
Place, Rome. Time, first century. Produced at Prague in 1791.
La Ciemenza di Tito was hastily written while Mozart was suffering
from the illness which in the end proved fatal. The libretto was an
adaptation of an earlier work by Metastasio. Cold and formal, and almost
{80} totally devoid of dramatic interest,
it naturally failed to inspire the composer. The form in which it was
cast compelled him to return to the conventions of opera seria, from
which he had long escaped, and altogether, as an able critic remarked at
the time, the work might rather be taken for the first attempt of bud.’
ding talent than for the product of a mature mind.
The story deals with the plotting of Vitellia, the daughter of the
deposed Vitellius, to overthrow the Emperor Titus. She persuades her
lover, Sextus, to conspire against his friend, and he succeeds in
setting the Capitol on fire. Titus, however, escapes by means of a
disguise, and not only pardons all the conspirators, but rewards
Vitellia with his hand. The opera was produced at Prague on the sixth of
September, 1791, and the cold reception which it experienced did much to
embitter the closing years of Mozart’s life.
Opera in two acts by
Mozart. Libretto by Schickaneder. Adapted from a tale by Wieland.
Characters: Sarastro; Tamino; speaker; two priests; the Queen of
the Night; Parnina, her daughter; three ladies; three boys; Papageno;
Papagena; Monostatos, a Moor.
Place, Egypt. First produced at Vienna in 1791.
Die Zauberflöte, Mozart’s last work, was written before La Clemenza
di Tito, though not actually produced until September 30, 1791. The
libretto, which was the work of Emanuel Schikaneder, is surely the
{81} most extraordinary that ever mortal
composer was called upon to set.
At the opening of the opera the Prince Tamino rushes in, pursued by
a monstrous serpent, and sinks exhausted on the steps of a temple, from
which three ladies issue in the nick of time and despatch the serpent
with their silver spears. They give Tamino a portrait of Pamina, the
daughter of their mistress, the Queen of Night, which immediately
inspires him with passionate devotion. He is informed that Pamina has
been stolen by Sarastro, the high priest of Isis, and {imprisoned} by
him in his palace. He vows to rescue her, and for that purpose is
presented by the ladies with a magic flute, which will keep him safe in
every danger, while Papageno, a bird catcher, who has been assigned to
him as companion, receives a glockenspiel. Three genii are summoned to
guide them, and the two champions thereupon proceed to Sarastro’s
palace.
Tamino is refused admittance by the doorkeeper, but Papageno in
some unexplained way contrives to get in, and persuades Pamina to escape
with him. They fly, but are recaptured by Monostatos, a Moor, who has
{been} appointed to keep watch over Pamina. Sarastro now appears,
condemns Monostatos to the bastinado, and decrees that the two lovers
shall undergo a period of probation in the sanctuary. In the second act
the ordeal of silence is imposed upon Tamino. Pamina cannot understand
his apparent coldness, and is inclined to listen to the counsels of her
mother, who tries to induce her to murder Sarastro. The priest, however,
convinces her of his beneficent intentions. The lovers go through the
ordeals of fire
{82}
and water successfully, and are happily married. The Queen of Night and
her dark kingdom perish everlastingly, and the reign of peace and wisdom
is universally established. The humors of Papageno in his search for a
wife have nothing to do with the principal interest of the plot, but
they serve as an acceptable contrast to the more serious scenes of the
opera.
The libretto of the Die Zauberflöte is usually spoken of as
the climax of conceivable inanity, but the explanation of many of its
absurdities seems to lie in the fact that it is an allegorical
illustration of the struggles and final triumph of Freemasonry. Both
Mozart and Schikaneder were Freemasons, and Die Zauberflöte is in
a sense a manifesto of their belief. Freemasonry in the opera is
represented by the mysteries of Isis, over which the high-priest
Sarastro presides. The Queen of Night is Maria Theresa, a sworn opponent
of Freemasonry, who interdicted its practice throughout her dominions,
and broke up the Lodges with armed force. Tamino may be intended for the
Emperor Joseph II., who, though not a Freemason himself, as his father
was, openly protected the brotherhood; and we may look upon Pamina as
the representative of the Austrian people. The name of Monostatos seems
to be connected with monasticism, and may be intended to typify the
clerical party, which, though outwardly on friendly terms with
Freemasonry, seems in reality to have been bent upon its destruction.
Papageno and his wife Papagena are excellent representatives of the
light-hearted and pleasure-loving population of Vienna. It is difficult
to make any explanation fit the story very perfectly, but the suggestion
{83} of Freemasonry is enough to acquit
Mozart of having allied his music to mere balderdash; while, behind the
Masonic business, the discerning hearer will have no difficulty in
distinguishing the shadowy outlines of another and a far nobler allegory,
the ascent of the human soul, purified by suffering and love, to the
highest wisdom. It was this, no doubt, that compelled Goethe’s often
expressed admiration, and even tempted him to write a sequel to
Schikaneder’s libretto.
Die Zauberflöte
is in form a Singspiel—that is to say, the music is
interspersed with spoken dialogue; but there the resemblance to Hiller’s
creations ceases. From the magnificent fugue in the overture to the
majestic choral finale, the music is an astonishing combination of
divinely beautiful melody with marvels of contrapuntal skill. Perhaps
the most surprising part of Die Zauberflöte is the extraordinary
ease and certainty with which Mozart manipulates what is practically a
new form of art. Nursed as he had been in the traditions of Italian
opera, it would not have been strange if he had not been able to shake
off the influences of his youth. Yet Die Zauberflöte owes but
little to any Italian predecessor. It is German to the core. We may
be able to point to passages which are a development of something
occurring in the composer’s earlier works, such as Die Entführung,
but there is hardly anything in the score of Die Zauberflöte
which suggests an external influence. Its position in the world of music
is ably summarized by Jahn: “If in his Italian operas Mozart assimilated
the traditions of a long period of development, and in
{84}
some sense put the finishing stroke to it, with Die Zauberflöe he
treads on the threshold of the future, and unlocks for his country the
sacred treasure of national art.”
Of Mozart’s work as a whole it is impossible to speak save in
terms which seem exaggerated. His influence upon subsequent composers
cannot be overestimated. Without him, Rossini and modern Italian opera,
Weber and modern German opera, Gounod and modern French opera, would
have been almost impossible. The form of his operas, with the alterna
tion of airs, concerted pieces and recitativo secco, may
conceivably strike the ears of the uneducated as old-fashioned, but the
feelings of musicians may best be summed up in the words of Gounod:1
“O Mozart, divin Mozart! Qu’il faut peu te comprendre pour ne pas
t’adorer! Toi, la vérité constante! Toi, la beauté parfaite! Toi, le
charme inépuisable! Toi, toujours profond et toujours limpide! Toi,
l’humanité complète et la simplicité de l’enfant! Toi, qui as tout
ressenti, et tout exprimé dans une langue musicale qu’on n’a jamais
surpassée et qu’on ne surpassera jamais.”
Footnote:
-
O Mozart, divine Mozart! How little one must understand thee not to adore thee ! In thee we find eternal truth, perfect beauty, inexhaustible charm! Thou art always profound, always sparkling I In thee we find the perfection of human nature combined with the simplicity of a child! Thou hast expressed every sentiment in a musical language that has never been surpassed and never will be.
Last updated January 17, 2007