At the Archbishop’s table he sat between the _castrato_ Ceccarelli and
the violinist Brunetti. If he felt revolted by his present circumstances
he seems, however, to have taken refuge in the inner sanctuary of his
spirit. He created quantities of priceless works and, in so doing, could
forget situations in themselves repugnant. There were church
compositions, serenades, _divertimenti_; the gorgeous _Symphonie
Concertante_ for violin and viola (K. 364); a triple concerto for
violin, viola, and cello; the adorable E flat concerto for two pianos
(K. 365); three symphonies in G, B flat, and C; some music for Gebler’s
drama, _Thamos, König in Aegypten_, which he had begun five years
earlier and was a foretaste of _The Magic Flute_; and lastly, an
operatic fragment, entitled _Zaide_ after Mozart’s death and destined to
remain a torso.
By 1780, however, Wolfgang was to some degree compensated for his
disillusionments. While laboring on _Zaide_ he was commissioned by the
Bavarian Elector, Carl Theodor, to write an _opera seria_ for the Munich
Carnival of 1781. The Munich authorities picked a libretto _Idomeneo, re
di Creta; ossia Ilia ed Idamante_, which was based on a book by Antoine
Danchet and which, as composed by André Campra as far back as 1712, had
enjoyed a day of fame in Paris. It dealt with the tale of the Cretan
king who had made a rash Jephtha vow to Neptune on returning from the
Trojan war and was saved from sacrificing his son only by a _deus ex
machina_. The libretto was put in shape by the Salzburg cleric,
Giambattista Varesco, and called for, in accordance with French models,
massive crowd scenes, ballets, choruses, and all the effects of a
large-scale spectacle as well as vocal virtuosity and elaborate
instrumental tone painting.
For a change Mozart had things more or less his own way. The Weber
family had moved to Vienna, much to Leopold’s relief, and for the moment
the composer had no time to worry about Aloysia but went ahead putting
his new opera into shape and helping to prepare the production. On the
whole he met with sympathetic cooperation. The Elector, Carl Theodor,
welcomed him cordially. The Intendant, Count Seeau, was helpful, and the
women singers declared themselves pleased with their arias. The chief
difficulties were caused by the aging tenor, Raaff, who had the title
role, and the sixteen-year-old artificial soprano cast for the part of
Idamantes. Mozart, who used to call him “mio molto amato castrato Del
Prato,” deplored the poor boy’s lack of stage experience, musicianship,
and vocal method. Nevertheless, _Idomeneo_, when brought out late in
January 1781, was warmly acclaimed, and the Elector, who had followed
the rehearsals from the first, marveled that “so small a head should
contain such great things,” insisting he had never been so stirred by
any music.
He had reason for his enthusiasm. The score of _Idomeneo_ is one of its
composer’s most superb achievements and, if it lives on today chiefly as
a museum piece, it does so because, like _Mitridate_, _Lucio Silla_, and
_Il Re pastore_ before it and _La Clemenza di Tito_ after it, the work
is a specimen of _opera seria_—a form that had lost every trace of
vitality and dramatic punch. Yet to the end of his days its creator
valued it highly and made some unavailing efforts to reanimate it.