CHAPTER X. OPERA BUFFA.

OPERA BUFFA was a gradual outgrowth from the opera seria, in which

originally comic characters took part in burlesque scenes.

{OPERA BUFFA.}

(203)

Even so late as 1718, when Scarlatti's "Telemacco" was produced,

there were scenes of coarse humour between Tersite and Silvina in

this otherwise conventionally correct opera.[1] When, however, the

discrepancy between these and the dignity and purity of the opera seria

came to be fully felt, the comic scenes were detached, generally

without much difficulty, and given as independent additions, between the

acts.[2] It had long been the custom to interpose between the acts of

the spoken drama--tragedies as well as comedies--musical representations

which had no connection with the piece itself, and were called intermedi

or intermezzi, and in the opera both the comic scenes and the ballets

were gradually loosed from their connection with the main body of the

work and placed between the acts. The relish of the audience for these

comic interludes soon led to the production of independent comic pieces

called intermezzi, which took the place of the disjointed scenes from

the opera. As a rule there were but two characters, one male and one

female, and there was no continuous plot even when the same characters

appeared in the different intermezzi. The dialogue was carried on in

plain recitative, and there were neither solo songs nor duets

{OPERA BUFFA.}

(204)

to interfere with the main opera. In the intermezzi which Metastasio

himself composed for his "Didone Abbandonata" in 1724, the characters

are Ribbio, a poet, composer, singer, and impresario, who is desirous

of establishing a theatre on the Canary Islands, and Dorina, the prima

donna whom he wishes to engage; after many affectations she sings a song

before him, whereupon he produces others, of his own composition, and

they vie with each other in mutual compliments. In the second intermezzo

Dorina, dressed for the stage, displays her tragic powers to Ribbio as

Cleopatra; finally they conclude a romantic contract, which includes a

prospect of tender relations between the two.

Great effect was caused by the caricaturing and ridiculing of the opera

seria, and by the exposure of the personal relations of stage heroes and

heroines; elements which have always played a great part in opera buffa.

The intermezzo gives, as it were, the back view of the opera seria,

not with the intention of destroying the ideal effect by sarcastic

criticism, but rather in order to heighten it by force of contrast. Even

the independent opera buffa preserved much of this parodying reference

to the opera seria.

Pergolese's "Serva Padrona" which was first produced in Naples in 1730,

was another example of an intermezzo for two characters; it met with

great success not only in Italy, but in France[3] and Germany,[4]

and set the fashion for similar pieces. Very soon an intrigue was

introduced, a connected plot was supplied, and the number of characters

increased first to three, then to four.[5] The development of the

intermezzo was rapid, and before long the inconvenience of carrying on

two independent dramas simultaneously caused the complete emancipation

of opera buffa from opera seria.[6] Equal rank with the latter it never

attained. It came to

{THE INTERMEZZO.}

(205)

maturity on the boards of the smaller theatres ("teatrini"), and was

long in gaining admission into the larger theatres. Even then it was

only exceptionally introduced during the season or stagione, side by

side with the opera seria, although in the German court theatres an

opera seria and a buffa were not seldom played alternately during the

carnival. In Italy comic operas were only admitted in summer, and

at those times when there was no grand opera. They did not pass for

exhibitions of perfect vocal art, and fewer calls were made on the

powers of the singers apart from their comic talent in delivery and

action. There is no doubt that this external subordination was of

inestimable value to the development of the opera buffa.

It received a firm foundation of musical configuration--recitative,

aria, ensemble--without the necessity of submitting to limitations and

laws so fixed as to have become absolute. The bass voice, which was

considered most suitable to comic characters, and had already been

appropriated to them in the old opera, was made the chief vehicle for

comic effects in the intermezzo. Volubility of utterance, mimicry, and

comic action were as necessary as a fine voice. The highly paid male

soprano might therefore be dispensed with in opera buffa; the unnatural

conventionality of the opera seria would have been insupportable in

representations of daily life. By this means the voices were brought

into their proper relations; the lover's part was allotted to the

tenor, and the performance generally gained in variety and in the natural

grouping of the parts.

The distinction of primary and secondary parts was disregarded, as well

as the limitation to a small number of vocalists; though these seldom

went beyond seven.[7] There were usually three female parts; the most

decidedly comic was the sly, pert waiting-maid (a standing figure of the

opera buffa), or a scolding old woman, an unsophisticated peasant-girl,

&c.

{OPERA BUFFA.}

(206)

The tenor part was usually the sentimental, unhappy lover, and required

most from the singer, but there were often two tenor parts, in which

case one was comic; the buffo tenor was not however nearly so well

defined a part as the buffo bass. The bass parts were decidedly comic;

a blustering old man and a cunning or a stupid servant were seldom

wanting. When the lover was a bass, he was either jovial or comical.

In spite of all this freedom, certain typical features were formed that

recur in all the varieties of grouping and disguise. The opera buffa was

far from adopting in dialect or costume the well-defined character, of

the Italian popular comedy, but the resemblance in form is unmistakable.

It was in imitation of the popular plays that the comic parts were made

caricatures, the effect of which depended on striking but exaggerated

peculiarities. The music was made to display these,[8] and there can

be no doubt that the want of individual character in the opera seria

favoured the passage to the opposite extreme in the opera buffa. As a

relief to the caricatures, _mezzo carattere_ were invented, in which the

purely musical element was more pronounced.

Intermezzi required an easy and loosely connected plot; the popular

jokes would not have come out so well from a studied, well-connected

drama, as from effective situations where favourite characters could

follow their bent. If the situations were of ample variety, lively and

humorous in their rendering, the audience was quite ready to forget how

weak the thread was which held them together. The opera buffa was always

written for a specified company, and the

{FORMS OF OPERA BUFFA.}

(207)

poet, limited both as to characters and effective situations, found his

labour simplified by such a skilful use of the conditions ready to hand

as should secure him applause and success.[9] Opera buffa, being held in

little esteem, was seldom taken in hand by poets of note; even

Goldoni's texts are, as he acknowledges himself,[10] unworthy of esteem.

Goethe,[11] when he was studying the comic opera in Rome with the

composer Kayser, remarked, that "there were a hundred things to be

observed, to which the Italians sacrificed the spirit of the poetry; for

instance, each character was to be brought forward in a certain order

and a certain degree--each singer must have pauses, &C."[12] His own

experience gave him a very just judgment on opera texts, and he rightly

ascribed a certain amount of simplicity, which, apart from the music,

made them appear poor and meagre, to a tendency to treat the subject

fancifully, like a child's fairy story.[13] But the majority of comic

libretti are disconnected and absurd, without spirit or delicacy,

depending entirely on the effect of humorous exaggeration; and the

universal opinion was a just one, that the words of the comic opera were

as poor as the music was charming.[14]

The musical forms of the opera seria were modified and remodelled by

the comic composers with very unequal skill and success. The recitative

needed little transformation; the more trivial treatment of the dialogue

suggested itself, and the accompanied recitative was only varied to suit

the comic situations. The aria, on the contrary, belonged essentially to

musical art, and had been developed at the cost of dramatic truth; opera

buffa did not concern itself with either of these facts. It adopted

the forms of the opera seria (unless when it parodied them) only in the

parts _di mezzo car ottere_ which it had appropriated from the opera

seria.

{OPERA BUFFA.}

(208)

The contrasting of different motifs was preserved as an essential

condition of musical composition, but the rules as to method and

succession were no longer regarded as binding. The subjects were more

slender and fugitive, so as to be more easily united, and they profited

thereby in freedom of movement and form. In many airs which have only

one tempo, the constituent parts of the original aria can be clearly

recognised, but the subjects are arranged and repeated according to

circumstances, the subordinate subjects are more important and longer,

and the means at command are more freely used. Piccinni was the first to

introduce the rondo form, which repeats the main subject several times

with freely treated intermediate movements. It met with great applause,

and was variously developed, being at last adopted in opera seria.[15]

But the simpler form of the cavatina was more usual, and received many

modifications; the ballad style was also not infrequent.

This freedom and many-sidedness of treatment was more especially

favourable to the dramatic aspect of the piece, and brought the plot

into closer relationship with the music, particularly in the ensembles.

Duets, terzets, and quartets were introduced wherever the situation

required, and this musical dramatic character reached its highest point

in the finales, which are true musical representations of a dramatic

climax ascending to a catastrophe. These finales, products of the

continual struggle to render music not the ornament but the helpmeet of

the drama, are the property of the opera buffa.

Nic. Logroscini, who was considered as the inventor of comic opera, and

the deity of the _genre bouffon_,[16] is said to have written the

first finale, the main subject of which was developed in one continuous

movement. Nic. Piccinni (whose "Buona Figliuola" was so well received in

Rome in 1761, that it may serve as a date for the recognition of opera

{DEVELOPMENT OF OPERA BUFFA.}

(209)

buffa as a distinct branch of the art) treated each scena of the finale

as a separate movement, and displayed far greater variety and more

effective working-up.

Many of the deficiencies of the text must have had considerable

influence on the music. The latter was constantly striving after

dramatic effect and characteristic situations, and was as constantly

dragged back by caricature and absurdity. The custom also arose of

providing unworthy comic effects for the buffo characters, such as the

mimicry of natural sounds, quick speaking, and others that have become

gradually extinct. On this point the severe mentorship of the opera

seria exerted a wholesome influence in preventing the complete sacrifice

of form to fun; so that, to the observer of the present day, regularity

of form is more observable in comic opera than freedom of treatment.

From opera seria too the comic opera received its main principle, viz.:

that the essence of the opera is in music, and more especially in song,

on the suitable treatment of which it depends for all its effect.

The majority of dramatic composers have tried their hand at opera buffa;

besides Nic. Logroscini (17...-1763), Bald. Galuppi (1703-1765),

Nic. Piccinni (1728-1800), we may particularly note Pietro Guglielmi

(1727-1804), Pasq. Anfossi (1736-1797), Giov. Paisiello (1741-1816),

Domen. Cimarosa (1754-1801), all men of prominent parts and thorough

musical training. Add to this the innate love of the Italians for beauty

of form, and it will be easily comprehensible that in spite of many

excrescences opera buffa should have blossomed into a musical art, which

in creative genius and intellectual power soared far higher than its

elder sister, whom it soon surpassed in the favour of the public.[17]

The greater freedom of style was of advantage also to the instrumental

parts, which took an independent share in the characterisation. Many

situations were heightened by the orchestra coming to the foreground--as

for instance during the frequently recurring _parlando_ where it falls

to the instruments to give the clue to the intended expression.

{OPERA BUFFA.}

(210)

The instrumental scores which Piccinni was blamed for overloading

and making unnecessarily prominent appear to us indescribably

poverty-stricken.[18] But it was thus that the orchestra gradually

developed into such an independence as makes it capable of following the

rapid emotions of the actors, and of serving at the same time as a firm

foundation for the whole artistic organism.

The overture in three movements was not the only one permissible;

symphonies in two parts were frequent, as also a somewhat more elaborate

allegro movement, which served as an instrumental introduction.

Anfossi's "Finta Giardiniera" had met with great success in Rome in

1774, whilst Piccinni's opera was hissed off the stage. In spite of its

miserable text it was produced in 1775 at Vienna,[19] and in 1778 at

Paris;[20] and at Munich Mozart received the libretto to compose for the

Carnival of 1775--

The dramatis persona are as follows:--[See Page Image]

The Marchesa Violante Onesti has been wounded by her lover Conte

Belfiore in a fit of jealousy, and he, believing that he has slain her,

flees. She sets forth in disguise to seek him, accompanied by a faithful

servant, Roberto; they both enter the service of Don Anchise, Podestà of

Lagonero, as gardeners, she under the name of Sandrina and he as

{"LA FINTA GIARDINIERA," 1775.}

(211)

Nardo. The Podestà falls in love with Sandrina and neglects for her the

waiting-maid Serpetta, to whom he has been paying his addresses. Nardo

strives in vain for Serpetta's favour; the two intruders are equally

obnoxious to her. Ramiro, Don Anchise's guest, and the accepted lover of

his niece Arminda, is deserted by the latter, who becomes affianced to

Belfiore.

At the opening of the opera the inhabitants of Lagonero are busily

employed decorating the garden for the reception of the betrothed

couple; Ramiro informs the Podestà that an unhappy love torments him,

and departs. The Podestà sends Nardo and Serpetta to a distance, in

order that he may declare his love to Sandrina; this she seeks to

evade, while Serpetta continually contrives to interrupt them, so giving

occasion for a comic aria from the Podestà. Thereupon Sandrina announces

to Nardo her intention of leaving the place to escape the attentions of

the Podestà, and complains of the faithlessness of men; Ramiro entering,

bewails the inconstancy of women, and Nardo the cruelty of Serpetta.

Arminda, who has just arrived, behaves whimsically to the Podestà and

Serpetta; Conte Belfiore enters, greets her as his bride, and comports

himself like a vain affected fop, boasting to the Podestà of his

nobility, his wealth, his good looks, his conquests, and his love for

Arminda.

Serpetta and Nardo having quarrelled, we next find Sandrina busy in the

garden. Arminda informs her that she is about to wed Conte Belfiore;

upon which Sandrina swoons. Arminda calls Belfiore, and leaves

the unconscious Sandrina to his care while she runs for her

smell-ing-bottle; when she returns Ramiro enters, and the four lovers

recognise each other in extreme confusion; the Podestà, entering, seeks

in vain for a solution of the mystery; they all go out, and leave him

alone. Before he can recover from his astonishment, Serpetta, to excite

his jealousy, relates that she has seen Belfiore and Sandrina holding

tender intercourse, and he withdraws in order to watch them. Belfiore

tries to extort from Sandrina the confession that she is Violante; at

first she denies it, but then forgets herself and reproaches him for

his infidelity. As he falls repentant at her feet, Arminda enters

with Ramiro, all the rest rush in, overwhelm him and Sandrina with

reproaches, and the act closes amid universal confusion.

The second act opens with Ramiro reproaching Arminda for her

inconstancy, while she does the same to Belfiore; then Serpetta makes

fun of Nardo. Sandrina, who, in her own despite, still loves Belfiore,

is surprised by him in the garden, forgets herself again, and overwhelms

him with reproaches; when he remorsefully sues for her love again, she

recollects herself, and explains that she has known Violante, and has

only been giving expression to her feelings. Quite confused, he makes

her tender excuses, and tries to kiss her hand, but seizes instead that

of the Podestà, who has drawn near unobserved, and goes out confounded.

{OPERA BUFFA.}

(212)

The Podestà first reproaches Sandrina, then makes her a formal

declaration of love, which she seeks in vain to evade. Ramiro enters

with a letter, wherein Belfiore is denounced as the murderer of the

Marchesa Onesti, and requires the Podestà to institute a formal inquiry;

to Arminda's disgust the Podestà declares the marriage postponed, and

Ramiro is filled with fresh hope. The Podestà interrogates Belfiore,

who, in spite of the whispered hints of Arminda and Serpetta, becomes

confused, and draws great suspicion on himself; then Sandrina appears,

and explains that she is the Marchesa Violante who was wounded, not

killed; they do not believe her, and treat her with contempt. When she

is alone with Belfiore, and he in delight renews his expressions of

love, she tells him she is not Violante, but has only impersonated her

to save him. Amazed and horrified, he loses his senses and begins to

rave, but soon comes to himself.

Serpetta informs the Podestà and Ramiro that Sandrina has fled, but when

they have hurried forth to seek her, betrays to the listening Nardo that

Arminda has had her rival conveyed to a hiding-place in the neighbouring

wood, in order to prevent any interference with her union to Belfiore.

Next we see Sandrina left alone in darkness, want, and despair; in

quick succession there enter Belfiore led by Nardo, the Podestà seeking

Sandrina, and Arminda and Serpetta to make sure that she is secure; in

the darkness the Podestà declares himself to Arminda, and Belfiore

to Serpetta, both believing that they are addressing Sandrina, to the

delight of Nardo, who now enters, followed by Ramiro with torches,

calling upon Belfiore to renounce the hand of Arminda. When the party

recognise each other there is first great consternation; then all break

into abuse and reproaches; Sandrina comes to an understanding with

Belfiore, they both imagine themselves shepherds, and amid the universal

hubbub sing pastoral ditties; then she enacts Medusa, he Hercules, and

at last they dance with delight, while the others are beside themselves

with anger and astonishment.

In the third act, Nardo is again scorned by Serpetta, then Belfiore and

Sandrina attack him, making passionate love to him in their madness, and

he escapes with difficulty. The Podestà is beset by Serpetta, whom he

repulses, by Arminda, who wants to wed Belfiore, and by Ramiro, who

demands Arminda's hand, though she again declares that she detests him.

Belfiore and Sandrina having fallen asleep in the garden, awake to soft

music, cured of their madness; they recognise each other, and after some

resistance she listens to his suit. Upon this Arminda resolves to bestow

her hand on Ramiro, and Serpetta on Nardo, and only the Podestà remains

unmated.

It was no easy task even to follow these clumsily connected situations,

too incoherent to be called a plot; and it

{"LA FINTA GIARDINIERA"--GERMAN VERSION.}

(213)

would have taxed the efforts of any composer to save such a work from

utter oblivion.

Only the second and third acts of Mozart's original score (196 K.) are

preserved, in two volumes, containing together 344 pages; the first

is lost, and there is no known copy of the Italian score, so that the

recitatives of the first act are unknown.

The opera was later produced in German; the German text is inserted in

the original score by L. Mozart, with trifling alterations of a note

here and there to suit the declamation. Besides these there are numerous

abbreviations, both in the recitatives and in some of the songs (13,

17, 19, 25), which were made for the first performance at Munich, and

indicated by rough chalk strokes and erasures; with the same end, Mozart

recomposed the whole of an abridged scene.

The abridged songs are adopted in the German version, but one air (20),

which was marked in chalk "to be omitted," is retained. That Wolfgang

was himself concerned in this adaptation is proved by the fact that on

certain pages the accompanied recitatives which were retained in the

German opera are rewritten in his own hand. Spoken dialogue takes the

place of the plain recitatives, and the German cues are inserted by

a third hand. In Rei-chardt's "Theaterkalender," the operetta, "Das

verstellte Gartner-Madchen" has been included among Mozart's works since

1781, and it was performed under this title at Frankfort in 1789.

Mozart probably undertook the adaptation after his return from Paris to

Salzburg, when he busied himself with the improvement of German opera.

The translation may safely be ascribed to Schachtner. The score is

preserved in duplicate; and a selection of the songs was printed by

André under the title "Die Gärtnerin aus Liebe."[21]

{OPERA BUFFA.}

(214)

This opera takes an unquestionably higher rank both as to originality,

technical skill, and vivid characterisation than any that had preceded

it. The seven personages, all drawn in firm outline with a sure hand,

are not all comic characters.

The part of Ramiro is avowedly written for a male soprano, probably for

the celebrated Tomm. Consoli (b. 1753), who entered the Munich Kapelle

in 1744, and was summoned to Salzburg for the approaching festival

performance. The part is throughout a serious one; Ramiro is the

sentimental unfortunate lover, who only becomes comic by his alternate

hopes and fears, as, true to his first inclinations, he opposes

Arminda's jealous resentment.

In his first unimpassioned song (2) he declares that, being scarcely

healed from his first unhappy attachment, he recoils from all fresh

enticements; he has not yet seen his faithless beloved again, the sight

of whom afterwards causes him to forget all in the desire to win her.

The cavatina (18) renders the sentiment of true and hopeful love simply

and tenderly. Finally, resentment against his faithless mistress is

expressed in an agitated air (21) with strongly accentuated declamation

and rapid changes of harmony. All three songs render consistently the

exalted mood of a man of sentiment, whose passions, nevertheless, are

not consumed by their own intensity; the individuality of the singer

may doubtless have lent itself to this treatment of the part. This

individuality is also evident in the fact that Ramiro's songs pay chief

regard to the singer in the passages, and adhere closely to the older

forms. But there is unmistakable progress in the richer and freer

grouping of the subjects, and in the delicate feeling with which the

digression in the middle movement is treated, and gradually led back to

the main subject.

Arminda stands next to Ramiro. As an imperious, passionate girl, who

ill-uses her faithful lover, and runs after another man, she is more

repulsive than comic. Musical characterisation, by giving to her

violence an air of pettishness, has introduced a comic element into her

first air (7) which brings the noble lady very near the soubrette. The

air (13) in which she threatens the Count with vengeance for

{"LA FINTA GIARDINIERA"--SANDRINA.}

(215)

his inconstancy has a caricatured expression of the pathetic, which

parodies the manner of the opera seria, and might, therefore, produce a

comic effect. The absence of all bravura in this part, in spite of the

style of the songs, which seems to call for it, was no doubt to suit the

particular singer--a seconda donna.

The part of Sandrina was expressly written for Rosa Manservisi, who

was highly thought of, both as a singer and an actress.[22] It is comic

neither in intention nor fact. An unhappy woman, of deep and

delicate feelings, injured and deceived, is forced by adverse fate to

dissimulate; the difficulties into which she is led by her disguise are

not ludicrous, but painful, and excite only sympathy. It was common at

the time to introduce persons and situations of a sentimental character

into opera buffa, without any regard to the incongruity of different

styles.[23] The principal scena given to Sandrina at the close of the

second act quite oversteps the boundary of opera buffa. Left deserted

in the dark and gloomy forest, she gives vent to her despair in a song

(21), which strikingly expresses the breathless anguish of a tender,

timid maiden, in the face of unknown dangers.

A characteristic passage for the violins--[See Page Image]

the agitated nature of which is increased by syncopated notes in the

accompaniment, and by the strong accent thrown on the last fourth of

every bar--goes through the whole movement of the allegro agitato in

varied modulation; the voice comes in with detached exclamations, and

once a melodious phrase silences the accompaniment for a moment, until

the orchestra again takes up its restless movement. The song passes

immediately into an expressive accompanied

{OPERA BUFFA.}

(216)

recitative, in which Sandrina becomes calmer, and assures herself,

by looking round, of her forsaken condition. This is followed by the

cavatina (22)--

Ah dal pianto, dal singhiozzo

Respirar io posso appena,

Non ho voce, non ho lena,

L' alma in sen mancando và--

which carries the expression of long-restrained feeling to its highest

point. Throughout a restless, hurrying Allegro agitato (6-8) the voice

has almost always interrupted passages, and seldom tries its powers in a

sustained note or a melodious phrase. The orchestra remains in continual

motion; at first a tender violin passage is introduced, then the oboes

and bassoons alternate with each other, and with the voice. The whole is

a single continuous thread of lovely melody and richly varied harmony,

with one fundamental idea as its starting-point, and upon it rests the

magic of grace and beauty. To the expression of excited passion follows

that of resignation; both are manifestations of a nature tender and

noble indeed, but neither grand nor strong.

Mozart's correct judgment led him to moderate the expression of passion

in Sandrina to a degree befitting the heroine of a comic opera, while

giving due prominence to her dignity and grace when she appears as the

gardener's girl. She displays her true self most unreservedly in the

cavatina (11) in which she bewails her unhappy love:--

Geme la tortorella

Lungi dalla compagna,

Del suo destin si lagna

E par, che in sua favella

Vogli destar pietà.

Io son la tortorella, &c.

Sonnleithner has noted the happy effect produced by the entrance of the

voice, not at the beginning of the theme, but a little behind it, as if

roused from abstraction:--

{"LÀ FINTA GIARDINIERA"--BELFIORE.}

(217)

[See Page Image] A gentle spirit, not altogether lost in sadness, yet

not able entirely to throw it off, is in Sandrina united to tender

womanly grace, and both find due expression in the music. Even when she

plays the gardener's girl, she does it with pleasant mirth never sinking

to vulgarity. The air (4) in which she undertakes the defence of women

against men to Ramiro (a rondo with a lively coda, 6-8), is gay and

sparkling, but not very pronounced in tone.

When she seeks by her cajoleries to appease the sulky Podestà without

exactly telling him that she loves him, she reveals a certain amount

of coquetry, and in her exaggerated expressions of dismay at his

reproaches, approaches the buffo character; but even here the

moderation, delicacy, and grace of Sandrina's character is in strong

contrast to that of Serpetta.

Both the comic and the pathetic aspects are combined in the Contino

Belfiore, whose burlesque character appears to have been excellently

represented by the buffo Rossi. His attempt on Violante's life sets him

before us as a man of passion; the wavering of his inclinations between

Arminda and Violante is the less comical, since he expresses his

admiration of Arminda's beauty with simple and manly

{OPERA BUFFA.}

(218)

dignity (6), but gives vent to his love for Sandrina, whom he recognises

as Violante, in a fine outburst of true emotion. The conclusion of this

song (15), being buffo in character, readjusts the situation. He has not

remarked that Sandrina has gone out, and the Podestà taken her place,

and he seizes the hand of the Podestà to kiss it; his confusion and

annoyance required comic expression. He takes part elsewhere in comic

scenes and situations; but his first appearance as a vain, supercilious

coxcomb is misleading and inconsistent, and only intended to give

occasion for a grand buffo air (8). The pride and loquacity with which

Belfiore details his genealogy are wittily rendered by Mozart; but as

a buffo song this evident concession to the taste of the singer and the

public is without marked individuality. Still less happy is the idea of

making the Contino, and afterwards Sandrina, go crazy. Madness is only

representable in music in so far as sympathy with it as a misfortune can

be aroused, which deprives it of any comic effect; the absurdities which

excite to laughter cannot be rendered musically, and only in rare

cases can music produce an analogous effect. In the second finale, when

Sandrina and Belfiore, surrounded by bitter enemies, suddenly imagine

themselves Arcadian shepherds, and sing shepherd songs, a contrast might

be produced which would at least support the idea of insanity. But

their mythological illusions: "Io son Medusa orribile! Io son Alcide

intrepido!" could not be expressed by the music. In the terzet (24)

Nardo, in order to escape the importunities of the crazy pair, points

towards heaven, and tells them with increasing animation how the sun and

moon quarrel, and the stars engage in love adventures; when he has set

the pair gazing fixedly upwards, he makes off. Broadly represented,

this gay, lively terzet must have made an effect, but it would have been

equally comic had Nardo fixed their attention on anything else, since

the effect depends on the vivacity and humour with which the composer

grasps the situation, and withdraws the attention of the audience from

the nonsense which the poet has put into the mouths of the characters.

But even this was impossible in the accompanied recitative during which

Belfiore loses his senses before the eyes of the

{"LA FINTA GIARDINIERA"--BUFFO PARTS.}

(219)

audience (19). At first, when he is beset by contending emotions, music

is in its place; when he believes himself to be dead and in Elysium,

Mozart has certainly constructed a characteristic, well-rounded

movement, but a specific expression of the illusion it is not and cannot

be. The song in which, restored to his senses, he expresses his joy at

still living (in tempo di minuetto) is lively, and appeals to the senses

like dance music, but after what has gone before it makes no comic

impression.

The first bar of this--[See Page Image] reminds us, as Sonnleithner has

remarked, both of the minuet and trio of the Symphony in D major (385

K.), and of a couple of bars in the first allegro of the Symphony in E

flat major (543 K.).

The Podestà is a genuine buffo, proud, amorous, consequential in virtue

of his office, easily excited, easily perplexed, but good-natured

at bottom; the genuine type of a comic old man; there was probably a

personal reason for making this character tenor instead of bass, though

the course was not an unusual one.[24] The musical conception of the

character is that of the traditional buffo. The first air (3) depicts,

according to a fashion of the time, different instruments which are

heard in the orchestra in a concerted accompaniment. This song has

nothing in common with the situation or with the character of the

Podestà, and is an interpolation for the German version.

The Italian text contains a song for Sandrina, "Dentro il mio petto io

sento," which Mozart composed, as we learn from a letter of his father's

(December 2, 1780), who had it copied for Schikaneder. The other two

songs (17, 25) are genuine buffo--lively, rapidly uttered--a continual

struggle between false dignity, anger, vexation, and perplexity.

The servants are also, according to custom, comic

{OPERA BUFFA.}

(220)

personages. Serpetta contrasts with Sandrina in want of refinement;

disappointed in her hopes of the Podestà, she becomes envious and

spiteful to every one, and especially to her lover, Nardo. Besides a

neat, pretty little song, of which each character sings a verse (9),

she has two songs (10, 20) of a distinctly soubrette character, gay and

pleasing, not without grace, but as yet without the delicate wit with

which Mozart later endowed his soubrettes.

Nardo, as the attached and faithful servant of Violante, displays an

address which is inconsistent with his röle of the simple lover who

pursues Serpetta in spite of all her ill-treatment. The first words of

the mock-heroic air (5), "A forza di martelli il ferro si riduce," have

suggested an accompaniment--[See Page Image] which gives the song a

peculiarly rhythmical character. In the second air (14) the rondo form

is employed with striking effect. Nardo seeks to win Serpetta's hand by

compliments in different languages and styles, which form alternating

interludes to the main theme; this is pretty enough, but the other jokes

are obsolete.

The ensembles are of a far higher character than the solos, both as

regards characterisation and musical execution.

The introduction is immediately connected with the overture, and borrows

its lively chorus from the third movement, but its development is

completely independent. The overture itself consists of an Allegro

molto, precise in its subjects and execution, but fresh and cheerful,

and of a somewhat tedious Andante grazioso.

Sandrina, Serpetta, Ramiro, the Podestà, and Nardo, are discovered

in the garden, awaiting the arrival of the wedding guests, and their

festive mood is expressed by a joyous choral movement. Then each

character in a short soliloquy explains the position of affairs, and

indicates the main elements of the plot. In these soli, which pass from

one to the other in the same tempo, and without a pause, Mozart

{"LA FINTA GIARDINIERA"--ENSEMBLES.}

(221)

has displayed his rare power of individualisation, and without the

sacrifice of interdependence in the parts of a great whole. The

moonstruck Ramiro, the amorous Podestà, the excitable, prying

Serpetta--each is admirably touched off, without any disregard to

unity of tone. The repetition of the first chorus, with which the piece

concludes, is led up to by the accompaniment, and the whole forms as

complete a musical rendering of the text as was possible.

The later ensembles belong immediately to the action of the piece. At

the close of the third act Sandrina and Belfiore awake from refreshing

sleep healed of their madness. Belfiore seeks acceptance of Sandrina,

who now acknowledges herself to be Violante, but she, abashed at his

declarations of love, bids him depart, and prepares to go herself.

Neither, however, can summon resolution to part, and after several

attempts, they sink at last in one another's arms, forgetful of all but

their newly found happiness. This situation, somewhat coarsely rendered

by the poet, has been transformed by the composer into an admirable

piece of character-painting (27). A long accompanied recitative passes

into an elaborate and effective Adagio, in which professions of love

alternate with reproaches. The Andantino (3-8), which follows is lighter

in tone, and well expresses alternations of repulsion and attraction.

The oboes are employed with a charming effect of longing appeal to

the words: "_Cont_. Lei mi chiàma?--_Sandrina_. Signor, nö. Lei

ritoma?--_Cont._ Oibö, oibö!" Finally, the joy of the united pair flows

forth in an Allegro, which gives full opportunity for display on the

part of the singers. Especially to be admired is the art with which the

intense and genuine expression of emotion is tempered by the timidity of

the Count and the coquetry of Sandrina, in a happy union of the pathetic

and the comic which keeps the whole within the limits of' opera buffa.

The rapid winding-up of the plot in the recitative dialogue, and the

short animated ensemble with which the opera concludes (28) are no doubt

intended not to weaken the effect of the great duet.

The finales (12, 22) of the first and second acts are masterpieces; the

separate characters act and react on each other

{OPERA BUFFA.}

(222)

in a way which is admirably true to life. Two conditions are essential

to the elevation of such pieces into musical works of art; important

points in the action or the characters must be brought out by prominent

motifs, and the fundamental idea of the situation must be grasped and

maintained in one motif which shall serve as a clue to the whole.

The task of the musician is the combination and elaboration of the

detached elements into an interdependent whole, in which the laws of

musical and dramatic art are in unconscious harmony; the master makes

good his claim to the title by the depth with which he grasps the idea,

by the delicacy with which he apportions the claims of individuals to

independence, and by the strength and truth with which he gives life

to his creations. Mozart's genius amply satisfies all these conditions.

When there are few characters, and they are consequently brought nearer

together, the characteristics of each are sharper and more detailed; but

when the relations of the characters to each other are more involved,

the musical grouping becomes more careful, so that, just as in an

architectural masterpiece, the parts are merged in the whole. Each motif

has its own peculiar expression, but is capable of such manifold effects

of light and shade, that an oft-used motif in a new combination is as

effective as if it appeared for the first time.

The form and style of opera buffa are maintained in all essential

points, but with great freedom of treatment. The usual means are

employed of the repetition of a short phrase with increasing intensity,

the _parlando_ while the orchestra carries on the motif, the comic

effect produced by rapid speaking, sudden pauses, strong contrasts, &c.;

but to these are added many traits of original invention.

In the earlier operas the boy's skill in the management of accepted

forms was what we had chiefly to notice; here for the first time we

are amazed at the originality of his musical powers. The wealth

of characteristic, well-moulded, well-rounded melodies is quite as

surprising as the organic dependence in which they mutually stand

related to each other, not merely joined together. This fertility is of

course

{"LA FINTA GIARDINIERA"--ORCHESTRA.}

(223)

more prominent as the development of the plot renders the musical

elements more complicated; especially admirable is Mozart's power of

giving character and suggestiveness to his melodies in their first and

simplest form. One subject from the last Allegro but one of the first

finale--[See Page Image] will not fail to remind the reader of one

almost identical from the first finale of "Figaro." But if the mode of

treatment of the simple motif in the two instances be compared, it will

be clearly seen that inventive power does not consist merely in the

combination of notes. That of the later opera is of course by far

superior, but even the earlier leaves little to wish for in its wealth

of harmonic variety, in its union with other subjects, and in the effect

of climax produced by imitation in the several parts.

It may finally and with justice be maintained of the melodies of this

opera that they, as well as the whole intellectual conception, are high

above the ordinary level; their grace, delicacy, and purity--in short,

their beauty--belongs to Mozart, and to him alone.

The orchestra is treated quite otherwise than in the opera seria. The

individual peculiarity of each instrument is

{OPERA BUFFA.}

(224)

brought out, and tone-colouring as a means of characterisation is

delicately and skilfully employed. In Sandrina's cavatina (22), for

instance, the fine effect of the oboe and bassoon in contrast to the

violin is due to the individualities of the instruments; in Ramiro's

song (18) the treatment of the bassoon is original; and in the first

finale an oboe solo comes in with startling effect (the Munich oboist,

Secchi, was very famous).[25] The horns are also frequently made

the means of effective tone-colouring; twice (13, 26) four horns are

employed in a minor key to heighten the effect of a dramatic climax.

More important than these detached instances is the altered relation

of the orchestra to the whole work.[26] It no longer serves as an

accompaniment in the sense of sustaining the voices and filling up

necessary pauses; it is no longer a mere adjunct to the vocal parts,

but takes its share in the effective working of the whole, filling out

details which the vocal parts leave imperfect, and obeying not so

much the requirements of the vocalist as the conditions of artistic

perfection. This altered relationship required an altered organisation;

each component part of the orchestra must have a distinct existence,

so that each, according to its place and kind, might contribute to the

general effect. The single example of the treatment of the basses will

serve to make this clear. Hitherto the basses had served merely as the

fundamental of the melody, indispensable indeed, but often clumsy

and insignificant; but here, without losing their character as the

ground-work of harmonic elaboration, they have an independent movement;

they serve not only to support the superincumbent mass, but their

quickening power sets in motion and gives the impulse to its formation.

By the side of these many excellencies the too great length of most of

the pieces, especially of the songs, is felt as a defect throughout; a

defect due, no doubt, to the taste of the time and to the youth of the

composer. The influence of the broader form of the opera seria, and the

pleasure of the

{"IL RE PASTORE," 1775.}

(225)

public in the mere hearing of music, were combined with the fact that

Mozart was not yet capable of that self-criticism which rejects all that

is superfluous, even when it is good in itself.

It may well be conceived that the opera was performed with extraordinary

success in Munich (1775), and that it soon attained pre-eminence among

the most admired contemporary comic operas. Nissen informs us that it

made little effect in Frankfort (1789); the clumsy German adaptation may

have been in part to blame for this; but the chief cause was doubtless

the altered taste of the public, brought about by the French operettas

and Mozart's "Entführung."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: Opitz's "Dafhe" (1627) follows Rinuccini's original in fidelity to

the ancient style; a second adaptation, performed in 1672 and 1678, with

music by Gius. Peranda and G. A. Bontempi (Fürstenau, Zur Gesch. d. Mus.

in Dresden, I., pp. 234, 251, 254), is enlarged, chiefly by comic scenes

of great coarseness between Jakels the piper, Käthe the peasant-girl,

and her father Chremes. It was similarly treated in Hamburg. (Lindner,

Die erste Deutsche Oper, p. 52).]

[Footnote 2: There are two thick volumes in the collection of the King of

Saxony, containing comic scenes from nineteen operas by Al. Scarlatti,

Gasparini, Giovanni Buononcini, Luigi Manci, Gius. Aldovrandini, and

Severo de Luca.]

[Footnote 3: Grimm, Corresp. littM I., p. 203.]

[Footnote 4: Goethe, Werke, XIX., p. 421.]

[Footnote 5: Goethe's Scherz, List und Rache, is an intermezzo thus increased

(Werke, XIX., p. 421.).]

[Footnote 6: Rousseau, Dictionn. de Mus., Intermidd. C£ Hiller, Wöch. Nachr., I.,

p. 145.]

[Footnote 7: The opera bnffa had no strict rule even as to its divisions. Either

the two acts of the intermezzi were preserved, or the opera might be

divided into three or four acts.]

[Footnote 8: Mattei (Riforma del Teatro vor Metastasio, Opp. III., p. xix.): Le

com-medie (per musica) presso di noi son piene di caratteri caricati,

e la lingua specialmente Napoletana non è altro che un ammasso di

espressioni caricate; non ci è aria, in cui non si esprime o il cane, o

la gatta, o gli uccelli, o la ruota che gira o il cannone che spara, e

altre cose simili; qui troverete un ubbriaco, là un matto; qui un che

parla e sconnetta, là un che balbuttisce ec. Quelle cose son facilissime

ad esprimersi in musica (se ben gl' ignoranti le ammirano e restano

attoniti) in quella maniera stessa, ch' è facile a un pittore esprimere

un volto caricato: poichè comunque riesca il ritratto, basta, che vi

si vegga quel lungo naso, o quel occhio Iosco del principale: ognuno lo

conosce, ognuno giura chè desso.]

[Footnote 9: Arteaga's recipe for an opera buffa (Rivol., c. 15, III., p. 140.;

Part II., p. 440) may be recognised in the majority of comic opera

libretti.]

[Footnote 10: Goldoni, Mém., II., p. 226.]

[Footnote 11: Goethe, XIX., p. 420.]

[Footnote 12: Goethe, XIX., p. 443.]

[Footnote 13: Goethe, XIX., p. 451. Briefw. m. Zelter, II., p. 19.]

[Footnote 14: Goldoni, Mém., II., p. 305. Arteaga.]

[Footnote 15: Arteaga, Rivol., c. 13, II., p. 298; Part II. p. 263. Manfredini,

Difesa d. Mas. Mod., p. 194. Mattei, Rif. del Teatro vor Metastasio,

Opp. III., p. 37.]

[Footnote 16: Laborde, Essai, III., p. 198.]

[Footnote 17: Arteaga, c. 15, III., p. 138; Part II., p. 409.]

[Footnote 18: Burney, Reise, I., p. 229.]

[Footnote 19: Sonnleithner has furnished me with a book of the words, published

in Vienna.]

[Footnote 20: Castil-Blaze, L'Opéra Ital., p. 242.]

[Footnote 21: Director Franz Hauser possesses the copy of a score of the first

act as far as the beginning of the finale, with German words, in

which the music has undergone numerous alterations, especially with a

reference to the stronger orchestras of the present day. It is not known

by whom this arrangement was undertaken.]

[Footnote 22: Schubart, Teutsch. Chron., 1775, p. 267. Burney, Reise, II., p.

109. Mozart met her again in 1789, in Dresden, where she died at an

advanced age.]

[Footnote 23: Arteaga, Riv. del Teatro, 15, III., p. 143; Part II., p. 412.]

[Footnote 24: Arteaga, Riv. del Teatro, c. 15, III-, p. 415.]

[Footnote 25: One or two less important echoes of "Figaro" are also to be found.]

[Footnote 26: Rudhart, Gesch. d. Oper zu München, I., p. 159.]

====

MOZART

BY DAVID WIDGER

CHAPTER XI. MOZART'S "RE PASTORE."

(226)

{MOZART'S "RE PASTORE."}

THE last opera of the series we have been considering is the festival

opera, "Il Re Pastore," composed in honour of the Archduke Maximilian,

at Salzburg, in 1775, to the text of Metastasio (208 K.).

The characters and plot are as follows:[1]--

Alessandro, re di Macedonia.

Aminta, pastorello, amante d' Elisa, che, ignoto a se stesso, si scuopre

poi l' unico legittimo erede del regno di Sidone.

Elisa, nobile ninfa di Fenicia, dell' antica stirpe di Cadmo, amante d'

Aminta.

Tamiry principessa fuggitiva, figliuola del tiranno Stratone; in abito

di pastorella, amante di Agenore.

Agenore, nobile di Sidone, amico di Alessandro, amante di Tamiri.

Alexander having conquered Sidon and slain the tyrant Strabo, determines

to place on the throne Abdalonymus,[2] son of the last rightful king,

who has been secretly brought up as a shepherd under the name of Aminta,

by a faithful dependent of his father.

At the opening of the piece we find him in the midst of his flocks,

while Elisa brings him the joyful tidings of the probable consent of

her parents to their union. She has scarcely left him when Alexander,

conducted by Agenore, enters, in order to convince himself if Aminta

is worthy of the throne he intends to offer him; Aminta's virtuous

moderation stands every test. While he is watering his flocks there

enters Tamiri, Strabo's daughter, disguised as a shepherdess; Agenore

extols to her Alexander's generosity, and promises to intercede on

her behalf. The assurance of his faithful love consoles her, and she

resolves to await his answer, concealed by Elisa. Elisa now enters,

bearing to Aminta her father's full consent to their union; in the midst

of their transport, Agenore makes Aminta acquainted with his destiny,

hands him the crown, and summons him to the presence of Alexander. The

lovers pledge their faith anew with much rejoicing.

In the second act, Elisa and Tamiri come to the camp of Alexander,

in order to see their lovers. Tamiri, unable to overcome her fear,

withdraws; Elisa seeks in vain to speak to Aminta, Agenore informing her

that Aminta is occupied with more important concerns, at the same time

that he respectfully reminds Aminta, who is impatient to find Elisa,

of his duties as a monarch. At last Alexander appears and receives the

grateful homage of Aminta, who expresses most virtuous resolutions for

his future rule. On Alexander expressing regret that Tamiri should shun

his presence, Agenore takes the opportunity of acquainting Alexander

with her near approach. To Agenore's dismay Alexander resolves to unite

her with Aminta. With the idea, however, that this will conduce to

Tamiri's happiness, Agenore controls his desires, and counsels Aminta

to renounce Elisa. Before the unwilling lover is convinced, Tamiri and

Elisa enter, and, seeing their lovers stand confused and silent, believe

them to be faithless.

At the opening of the third act, Aminta, after many scruples, informs

Agenore of his determination to fulfil the duty which he believes

himself to owe to Alexander. These tidings are carried by Agenore to

Elisa, who refuses to doubt Aminta's truth, and will not be persuaded

that submission to her fate will best prove her love for Aminta.

Agenore's own constancy is put to a severer test when Tamiri vehemently

accuses him of having deserted her for Aminta's sake, but he remains

firm.

Then there appears before Alexander, who is preparing for the

celebration of the union, first Tamiri, who declares her love for

Agenore, and refuses to break her faith with him, even for the sake of a

throne; then Elisa, who tells the claims she has on Aminta's heart;

and finally Aminta himself, dressed as a shepherd, returns his crown

to Alexander, being unable to renounce Elisa's love. Moved by all this

nobleness and devotion, Alexander unites the lovers, reinstates Aminta

as King of Sidon, and promises to conquer another realm for Agenore.

{"IL RE PASTORE," 1775.}

(227)

Metastasio wrote this opera in 1751 for performance at court by four

maids of honour and a cavalier;[3] he paid due regard to fitting

costumes, and to the virtue and nobility of each character.[4] The

pains he took at the rehearsals were requited;[5] Bono's music was

excellent,[6] the scenery and costumes most brilliant, the noble

performers acquitted themselves to perfection, and all was applause and

approbation.[7] No wonder that he recommended the piece to Farinelli as

a suitable festival opera;[8] it has, in fact, been composed very often

since.[9]

It was considerably curtailed for representation at Salzburg. The

second and third acts were compressed into one, whereby not only was the

dialogue abridged, but several songs were omitted without serious injury

to the text. There were other small alterations and some few additions,

but nothing essential was disturbed. Instead of Aminta's first air (act

1, sc. 2) another was introduced with an accompanied recitative, and

before the duet at the end of the first act an accompanied recitative

was omitted. Instead of the short concluding chorus, a kind of finale

was inserted, in which soli and tutti alternate. The part of Agenore was

given to a tenor,[10] Aminta to the male soprano Consoli; beyond this we

know nothing of the cast or of the performance.

Mozart's composition, of which the original score in two volumes of 284

pages has been preserved, has the same finish of execution and invention

which was so marvellously seen in the "Finta Giardiniera"; but the

conventionalities of form are far more of a hindrance here than in the

previous

{MOZART'S "RE PASTORE."}

(228)

work. No scope was allowed for dramatic force or true passion; the

work must be kept strictly within the limits of the festival opera. The

Salzburg singers too, seem to have preferred the beaten track to any

extraordinary displays of skill.

This is most apparent in the tenor part of Alexander. His three songs,

whose commonplace virtuous reflections give little scope for musical

treatment, have, like the regular bravura songs, a long ritornello,

bravura passages, the shake at the end, the usual cadenza. In details,

the effort to metamorphose the form is apparent; the second part appears

as a second subject, and the passages are made more interesting by their

harmonic treatment, and by the prominence given to the accompaniment.

The melodies are better built up, they have more musical substance;

the accompaniment takes up detached portions of the chief melodies, and

gives a firmer connection to the parts. The words of the first air

(4) give occasion for some of the then favourite musical painting;

lightning, thunder, and rain are depicted by the orchestra, but

without undue prominence. The second air (9) is interesting through the

obbligato treatment of the wind instruments, the flute competing with

the voice in passages. Joh. Bapt. Becke (b. 1743), who had been trained

under Wendling to become an admirable flautist, was summoned from Munich

for this performance. The third air (13) is in the serious conventional

style, not wanting in dignity.

More individuality is given to the parts of Aminta and Elisa; at first

the prevailing element is pastoral, as was usual in festival operas. The

overture, consisting of one movement (Molto allegro) leads directly to

Aminta's first song (1), by a pleasant pastoral melody. It is a simple

shepherd's song characterised by its 6-8 time, and by the flute and

horn accompaniment. For the better contentment of the singer (the

soprano Consoli from Munich), his second song is a genuine bravura (3).

In its division into a brilliant Allegro aperto (4-4), and an elegant

Grazioso (3-8), as well as in details, the old style is apparent; but

all is so much freer, fuller, and, in spite of its fragmentary

{"IL RE PASTORE"--THE DIFFERENT PARTS.}

(229)

construction, so much more connected, that one feels a new spirit

floating through the obsolete forms. Aminta's last air (10), when he

declares himself true to his love, shakes itself quite loose from the

fetters. It has the rondo form; the principal theme, twice relieved by

an interlude, recurs three times, and winds up with a coda. The beauty

of this cantilene is enhanced by a violin solo (written doubtless

for Brunetti) equally simple and tuneful in style. The muted strings

accompany the principal subject with a slightly agitated passage; the

wind instruments (two flutes, two English horns, two bassoons, and two

horns) are treated independently, and as delicately and tenderly as the

tone of the piece requires.

Elisa's first song (2) unites in a singular degree the pastoral with the

bravura character: the noble lady depicts the happiness of living as a

shepherdess near her beloved Aminta. The traditional form has been

so skilfully modified, and an almost playful grace is so freshly and

charmingly expressed, that this song may justly be placed on a level

with some of Mozart's later concert songs. The second air (8) is more

strictly according to rule; the situation does not lend itself to

freedom of treatment, and Mozart has contented himself with composing a

harmonious and effective song.

The duet between Elisa and Aminta at the close of the first act (7) is

light and pleasing, surpassing former efforts of the same kind in its

clever management of the voices and in the originality of its subject.

It is a charming idea and an appropriate one, to carry on the subject of

the Andante with altered rhythm into the Allegro.

The parts of Tamiri and Agenore are quite secondary, scarcely more than

stop-gaps. Tamiri's first air (6) is a bravura song of the ordinary

type, the second (11) is almost soubrette-like in its airy lightness.

Agenore's first air (5) is tender and pleasing, not much in accord with

the situation. His second air (12) is pathetic, in a minor key, and

stands alone of its kind. Restless agitation is portrayed by a varied

and striking harmony, emphasised by

{MOZART'S SONGS.}

(230)

strongly accented chords for the wind instruments--four horns besides

oboes and bassoons. But neither the character of Agenore nor the

moralising words give any opening for pathos.

The finale consists of a brilliant four-part tutti movement, which is

repeated entire, or in part, several times; passages for single voices

are inserted, alternating cleverly and with a pleasing effect.

Mozart's evident longing to break loose from the fetters of

conventionality and tradition is nowhere more apparent than in the

accompaniment and in the orchestral movements, where we find a fulness

and freedom of thought hitherto only shown in detached passages. Even

when the old fashion is retained of employing only oboes and horns,

there is an evident appreciation of the special powers of the

instruments expressed, it may be, in a few notes. The orchestra has its

own significance, and Mozart turns to account his intimate knowledge of

the orchestra of opera seria. Trifling as these instrumental effects may

appear, the main point, that instrumental music was henceforth to

take an active part both in serious and comic opera, was one of great

importance in the history of their development.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: Metastasio cites Justinian (XI., 10) and Curtius (IV., 3), who

relate that Alexander set on the throne of Sidon a distant descendant of

the royal house, Abdalonymus, who was living in poverty as a gardener,

but who was worthy of the honour by reason of his beautiful form and

noble mind.]

[Footnote 2: The care with which Metastasio avoids this discordant name (un nome

ipocondriaco) is characteristic. (Cf. Opp. post., II., pp. 12, 35.)]

[Footnote 3: Metastasio, Opp. post., II., p. 34.]

[Footnote 4: Cf. Grimm, Corresp. litt., VI., p. 17.]

[Footnote 5: Metastasio, Opp. post., II., p. 33.]

[Footnote 6: Metastasio, p. 31.]

[Footnote 7: Metastasio, p. 34, cf. p. 4.]

[Footnote 8: Metastasio, p. 30.]

[Footnote 9: By Sarti, 1752; Jomelli, 1755; Hasse, Gluck (Metastasio, lett. V.,

p. 35), 1756; Guglielmi, 1767.]

[Footnote 10: Metastasio himself counselled Farinelli to make this alteration.

(Opp. post., II., p. 31.)]

====

MOZART

BY DAVID WIDGER

CHAPTER XII. SONGS.

WE must here cast a glance at a number of separate songs composed by

Mozart, either for insertion in operas or for performance at concerts.

The earliest of them, composed for the two Licenze at Salzburg (p. 99),

and those belonging to the first Italian journey, call for no special

remark. Yet there occurs in the air composed at Rome, "Se tutti i mali

miei" (183 K.), a change of key produced by enharmomic progression which

deserves to be noticed:--

{BUFFO SONGS, 1775-76.}

(231)

[See Page Image] No such songs are known to belong to the years

immediately following, but in 1775 we find several composed at Salzburg,

probably for performance by foreign vocalists visiting the city. Two

tenor airs belong to May, 1775. In one of them, described as "Aria

buffa" (210 K.) the singer is supposed to be flattering some one to his

face with the greatest fluency, while he makes all sorts of rude remarks

aside:--

Con ossequio, con rispetto

Io m' inchio e mi profondo

A un sapiente si perfetto,

Che l' egual non v' è nel mondo,

E l' eguale non verrà--

Per l' orgoglio e l' ignoranza e la gran bestialità.

The orchestra maintains a single theme (Allegro assai) without

intermission, and the voice is almost throughout _parlando_ in rapid

vivacity; the union of a certain amount of dignity with burlesque

fluency of tongue is very comical, the whole song being simply conceived

and easily and consistently worked out. This song could only have been

meant for performance on the stage, and the second (209 K.), "Si mostra

la sorte propizia all' amante," is scarcely of importance enough for a

concert-room. It is the complaint of a bashful lover, but has so little

pathos as to be only

{SONGS.}

(232)

suitable for opera buffa. It is simple both in design and execution, and

may have been inserted to suit the powers of some singer in the place of

another song. It was no doubt also for insertion in an opera buffa that

an air for Dorina (217 K.), "Voi avete un cor fidele," was composed

(October 26, 1775); it is in the style of a soubrette, superior to those

of its kind in the "Finta Giardiniera," and equal to Despina's songs

in "Cosi fan tutti." An Andantino grazioso and an Allegro, the latter

considerably elaborated, are both repeated, then a few bars of the

Andantino recur, and the whole is wound up by rather a long Coda in

allegro. The exact repetition of both movements makes the effect of

the whole somewhat stiff, but the details are fresh, animated, and very

characteristic.

The tone of melting tenderness at the beginning, the mocking _parlando_

of the questions, and finally the fervency of the words, "Ah! non

credo," are so strikingly expressed, and the whole effect is so cheerful

and even droll, that we cannot fail to recognise the hand of a master

of his art. The subjects and the passages in the allegro are neat and

graceful, and the orchestral parts are lively and appropriate.

A tenor song (256 K.), "Clarice cara mia sposa," composed for Signor

Palmini, September, 1776, is a true theatrical buffo air, and

bears lively testimony to Mozart's comic talent. A Capitano prates

nonsensically, with much swagger, of how he will have his own way in

spite of everybody; a Don Timoteo seeks in vain to interrupt the flow

of his talk, which seems to run over in an unintermittent succession of

triplets falling like heavy rain, and, as it were, drenching the hearer

in an instant.

The monotonous _parlando_ is provided with just so much of melody as

to indicate that it is sung, not spoken. The orchestra maintains a very

simple subject--[See Page Image] with varied harmonies, in a light, even

sketchy manner, but with considerable musical interest. Even the few

words in

{ALTO SONG, 1776.}

(233)

recitative, thrown in by Don Timoteo, do not allow the singer to take

breath, and only serve to make the next paroxysm still more comical.

Another song, composed in the same month for the alto Fortini, may have

been intended for performance at a concert. Mozart justly considered

this song worthy to live, for he writes from Vienna (April 12, 1783)

to beg that the rondo for an alto voice may be sent to him which he had

composed when the Italian troupe were at Salzburg. The idea is the usual

one of the leave-taking of a disconsolate lover. The introduction is a

not very long, but an expressive recitative. The transition from this

to the air itself is charming and very touching; it is the involuntary

expression of the pain of parting welling out from the innermost depths

of the heart:--[See Page Image]

Both the movements of the song, Andante moderato and Allegro assai,

are repeated; then the Andante recurs for the third time, makes its way

through an Allegretto to the Allegro assai, and from this a subject is

selected, which leads through an effective crescendo to a pause on the

{SONGS.}

(234)

seventh. Then the opening bars of the Andante are repeated, stop short,

and the song is rapidly concluded 'by the Allegro. The hesitation and

irresolution of the lover, who cannot bring himself to depart,

find ready expression in this change of movement. A deep, calm, and

restrained emotion, corresponding admirably to the character of an alto

voice, is well portrayed by the simple, unornamented song, interrupted

only by the stronger accents of intense grief. The orchestral

accompaniment is so managed as skilfully to heighten the peculiar effect

of an alto voice.

Repeated mention is made in the letters of the year 1777, and

afterwards, of a scena composed for Madame Duschek.[1] In the summer of

1777, Josepha Duschek, a singer and pianoforte-player of celebrity, and

a young, vivacious woman, came for a visit from Prague to Salzburg. The

foundation was laid of a friendship with Wolfgang, of which we shall

frequently have occasion to speak. The scena in question is probably the

grand aria of Andromeda (272 K.), "Ah, lo previdi," belonging to August,

1776, not long before his departure from Salzburg, and one of the

greatest compositions of the kind. An agitated recitative is followed

by a long, elaborate Allegro, expressive of the passion of a brave and

noble mind. Scorn for perfidy overpowers even pain at the loss of the

beloved one; tones which seem to scorch and wither pour forth like

glowing metal on the betrayer; then comes a subject which has already

made itself heard more than once in the orchestra as a cry of suppressed

pain, and this leads to a gentler mood; grief for the lost love is

expressed in a beautiful recitative, and dies away into calm and

composed melancholy with a Cavatina, which concludes the scena.

The psychological truth of the details, the blending of the transitions,

the unity of the tone, are qualities quite as much to be admired in this

song as the musical originality and skill

{"AH, LO PREVIDI," 1777--LIEDER.}

(235)

displayed in its composition. The last movement is perhaps a little

spun out; although the strain of long-continued violent emotion seems to

require a correspondingly gradual cessation.

The orchestra is as simply managed as in the earlier songs; for wind

instruments only horns, bassoons and oboes are employed, with,

more seldom, flutes; in the recitatives there are only stringed

instruments.[2]

It is indicative of the taste of the time that among so many vocal

compositions the song proper (_lied_) seldom or never appears. Five very

simple Lieder with clavier accompaniments belong to the earlier Salzburg

epoch (147-151 K.); they are more pedantic than any other of the

compositions, and interest us chiefly through the words by Günther and

Canitz, which Mozart has selected for composition.

HE years of Mozart's development at Salzburg were fruitful not only of

operatic compositions, but of others which arose from the circumstances

of his residence there. First among these stands church music.

Church music had long been fostered at Salzburg, and was especially

encouraged by Archbishop Sigismund; his severe and world-contemning

piety caused him to keep the service of the church continually before

the eyes both of singers and composers. The prospect of a moderate

pension induced many clever artists to settle in Salzburg, in spite

of the poor payment they received for their services. Sigismund's

successor,

Hieronymus, extended his parsimony even to the members of the Kapelle,

whom he estranged by his overbearing manners; on the whole, music rather

declined than advanced under his rule,[3] although he cared more than

Sigismund for the splendour of his court.[4]

THE FOOTNOTES OF CHAPTER 13

[Footnote 1: His father tells him (December 15, 1780) that Fr. Duschek considered

herself indebted to him for the former song, and pressed for another,

which he had refused as impossible at that time.]

[Footnote 2: A song (119 K.) printed only with German words, "Der Liebe

himmlisches Gefuhl," is a bravura song in the old style, of undoubted

early Italian origin.]

[Footnote 3: [Koch-Stemfeld] Die leiten dreissig Jahre des Erzbisthums Salzburg,

p. 255. Cf. Burney, Reise, III., p. 260. Schubart, Aesthetik, p. 157.]

[Footnote 4: Cf. "Nachricht von dem gegenwartigen Zustande der Musik St.

Hoch-furstlichen Gnaden des Erzbischofs zu Salzburg im Jahre 1757,"

in Marpurg's Krit. Beitr., III., p. 183, probably by L. Mozart. Many

notices are given in the Mozart correspondence. Ben. Pillwein's

Lexikon Salzburgischer Künstler (Salzburg, 1821), and the Biographien

Salzburgischer Tonkünstler (Salzburg» 1845), are too superficial for

musicians.]

====

MOZART

BY DAVID WIDGER

CHAPTER XIII. CHURCH MUSIC.

FIFTEEN choristers were maintained at the cost of the Archbishop in the

Kapellhaus, and educated by

{CHURCH MUSIC.}

(236)

special instructors. They afterwards entered the choir as singers or

passed into the service of the court; if they showed extraordinary

talent, they were sent to finish their training in Italy, and then took

their place as solo singers.[3] Archbishop Sigis-mund allowed the male

sopranos to die out, and did not replace them with others; on the other

hand he sent the daughter of the cathedral organist, Maria Magd. Lipp,

to be educated as a singer in Italy, and on her return in 1762 he

appointed her court singer; she soon afterwards married Michael Haydn,

lately arrived at Salzburg. In 1778 Hieronymus again took a male soprano

into his service, Ant. Ceccarelli, a singer of moderate powers and bad

moral character.

The orchestra belonging to the choir was an ample one for the time, and

was strengthened by a trumpet band for the support of the voices in the

church. There were further two bands of six trumpets and drums, which

did not properly belong to the court, but to the chamberlain's office,

and which ranked between the equerries and the lackeys.[4] But no one

was taken into this service who could not also, at need, strengthen the

stringed instruments.

In 1762, when Lolli was kapellmeister, and Leopold Mozart

vice-kapellmeister, Joh.Michael Haydn[5] (1737-1806), the younger

brother of Joseph, was appointed concertmeister and director of the

orchestra, on the recommendation of a

{MICHAEL HAYDN.}

(237)

nephew of Archbishop Sigismund, at Grosswardein, where Haydn had been

kapellmeister since 1757. The personal intercourse between the families

of Haydn and Mozart was not over friendly. Haydn was fond of sitting

over a glass of beer or wine, which was all the more reprehensible in

the sight of the temperate and conscientious Mozart, since it caused

frequent neglect of duty.

"Who do you think," he writes to Wolfgang (December 29,1777), "is

appointed organist at the Holy Trinity? Herr Haydn! Every one laughs.

He is an expensive organist; after every litany he drinks a quartern of

wine, and he sends Lipp to the extra services, who drinks too." (June

29, 1778): "This afternoon Haydn played the organ for the litany and the

Te Deum (at which the Archbishop was present), but so badly that we were

all horrified.... Haydn will drink himself to death soon; or at least,

being lazy enough already, he will become still lazier the older he

gets."[6]

The conduct of Frau Haydn also must have been objectionable. Wolfgang

writes mockingly to Bullinger (August 7, 1778): "It is quite true that

Haydn's wife is ill; she has carried her rigours too far; there are few

like her! I only wonder that she has not lost her voice long ago through

her constant scourgings, wearing of sackcloth, prolonged fasts, and

midnight prayers." Neither was Haydn's cultivation such as to cause L.

Mozart to wish for nearer intercourse between the families. "I should

like to hear him speak Italian in Italy," he writes (December 4,

1777); "the people would certainly say, 'Questo è un vero Tedesco!"'[7]

Personal difference and trifling jealousies, such as easily arise in

small communities, may have had some influence on this unfavourable

criticism of Michael Haydn; it did not extend, however, to his merits as

an artist. It is true that L. Mozart was of opinion when Michael Haydn,

in 1787, composed the opera "Andromeda e Perseo," that he had no talent

for

{CHURCH MUSIC.}

(238)

dramatic music, and that his principal songs might have been written for

a choir-boy. But he praised, in strong terms, the _entr'acte_ music

for Zaire, which Haydn had composed in 1777, and analysed it carefully,

telling his son that the Archbishop had done him the honour to say to

him at table, that he could not have believed Haydn capable of composing

such music; and that instead of beer he should drink nothing but

Burgundy. Haydn received a reward of six kronthaler (October 1 and

October 9, 1777). But when L. Mozart writes to his son: "Herr Haydn is a

man whose musical merits you will not deny" (September 24, 1778), he

is referring to his church music, which Wolfgang was in the habit

of copying for study. Writing from Vienna, he asks for "small paper,

Eberlin's Counterpoint, bound in blue, and some of Haydn's things";[8]

and shortly after (March 12, 1783): "The 'Tres sunt' (M. Haydn's) is

in score, in my handwriting." He wanted these things for the Sunday

performances at Van Swieten's, and asked also for Michael Haydn's latest

fugue. "The 'Lauda Sion,'" he writes (March 12, 1783), "was a great

success; the fugue, 'In Te Domine speravi,' was much admired, as also

the 'Ave Maria' and 'Tenebrae.'" Among Mozart's remains were found

two fugues, 'Pignus futuræ gloriæ,' copied by his own hand from Michael

Haydn's Litanies.

{ADLGASSER--CHURCH FORMS.}

(239)

The cathedral organist, appointed in 1751, was Anton Cajetan Adlgasser

(1728--1777), a pupil of Eberlin, who had been sent by the Archbishop to

study in Italy, a first-rate organ-player and accompanist, whose

sacred compositions were afterwards performed and highly appreciated

at Salzburg. Less remarkable was the second organist, Franz Ign. Lipp,

Haydn's father-in-law.

The kapellmeister and organist did not confine themselves to conducting

performances of church music: they made it a point of honour to

provide suitable music for special festival occasions. At such time new

compositions were considered indispensable; indeed, throughout the year

a constant variety of music was sought to be provided. This activity in

church music was of the greatest service to young composers, who

never wanted an opportunity for bringing out new compositions, nor for

learning by hearing and comparing.

It was not the less beneficial in the way of training that they were

obliged to keep within the limits of certain clearly defined forms,

and to be content with the often scanty means which they found ready

to hand. Through the influence of transmitted customs and individual

peculiarities, as well as of the taste of those in authority, local

traditions grew up, whose narrow rules hindered freedom of development.

Such control is most irksome in church matters, wherein all, even

what is in itself unimportant, must be considered as partaking of the

sanctity of the whole. The counterbalancing gain of such training is

technical finish, the indispensable foundation for the development of

genius, with which alone can any effort to break loose from what is

false in tradition be successful.

Mozart found the rules and forms of church music as clearly defined as

those of the opera. Both had been formed in the Neapolitan school,

and the impulses given up each had been in the same direction. The

turning-point was the introduction of melodies which had their own

significance as expressions of emotion, without regard to their harmonic

or contrapuntal treatment. No sooner had melody gained recognition in

opera and cantata, as the natural and

{CHURCH MUSIC.}

(240)

legitimate form of musical expression, than it made a way for itself into the

church by means of oratorio. The simple grandeur of the older church

music (particularly that of the Roman school, with Palestrina as its

representative) depended chiefly on the fact that the chorus of

voices was treated as an organic whole, of which no one part could be

recognised as a distinct entity apart from the rest. The impression made

by such music resembles that of the sea. Wave follows upon wave, and

each one seems to be like the last; yet underlying the apparent monotony

there exists an ever-varied life, an invincible strength, manifesting

itself alike in peaceful calm and raging storm, and filling the mind

with a sense of sublimity and grandeur, without satiety and without

fatigue. But so soon as one melody was distinguished above the rest the

union and equality of the voices was disturbed. Separate voices became

more or less prominent as occasion required; and it could not fail to

follow that the other voices should be employed merely to fill up and

support the principal melody. A certain amount of independence and

character might indeed be given to the accompanying voices by skilful

management, but the principle remains unaltered, so long as a melody and

its accompaniment are in question.

The change became more marked when instrumental music gained admission

into the church. At first the organ and trumpets were employed merely to

support and strengthen the voices. But when stringed instruments, and by

degrees the various wind instruments of the orchestra, came into use

in churches, they gradually adopted in church music, as in secular, the

part of accompaniment to the voices. This tendency was most apparent of

course in solo singing; but a manner of orchestral accompaniment to the

choruses was gradually elaborated which could not fail to influence

the treatment of the voice parts. The use of the severest contrapuntal

method had hitherto been considered an essential condition and

embellishment of church music; but on this point also an alteration of

opinion and taste gained gradual ground.

The perfection of contrapuntal treatment, consisting in the absolute

freedom and independence of the several parts,

{COUNTERPOINT IN CHURCH MUSIC.}

(241)

with their due correlation, can only be obtained by strict obedience

to well-defined laws; added to which must be a firm conception of some

simple fundamental idea whose many-sided development shall give unity

and cohesion to the whole work. This form of composition is therefore

peculiarly appropriate to the delivery of serious and weighty ideas; it

is however but a form, and can be endued with life and significance only

by the matter which it contains, and by the spirit which animates it.

In old times the madrigal served to illustrate contrapuntal forms in

secular music; and even in the present day canons and fugues, sometimes

with comic effect, sometimes giving expression to very varied emotions,

are often so skilfully constructed that the uninitiated have no

suspicion of the artistic learning with the effect of which they are

charmed. Although counterpoint is in itself neither spiritual nor

ecclesiastical, it is conceivable that in proportion as secular music

freed itself from the trammels, the error should arise of imagining

severity of form and structure to be peculiarly appropriate to church

music. This identification of counterpoint with ecclesiastical ideas

caused its development to proceed side by side with those other forms

which had made good their footing in church music. The opposition which

was felt to exist between severe methods and methods not severe led to

a compromise; certain parts of the liturgical text were treated

contrapuntally, and others freely. The proportions depended greatly on

personal and local influences, but the main points of the division were

decided by the Neapolitan school.

The moral tendency of this change of construction must not be

overlooked. The free treatment of melody gave to subjective emotion,

with its ever-varying alternations, a suitable method of musical

expression, and an art which was developing in this direction must have

had extraordinary influence. The effort to make church music subject to

this influence was the necessary consequence of a newly awakened life in

art. The musician felt himself impelled to represent religious emotion

in its full strength and truth, and with all the means at his command;

the liturgy called forth the expression of the liveliest and most

passionate emotion, it

{CHURCH MUSIC.}

(242)

offered opportunities for representing the most vivid dramatic

situations; even the glory of worship called on its votaries to bring

the splendour of music, as well as of painting and sculpture, into the

Divine service. But the direction taken by the intellectual progress

of that time, especially in Italy, was fraught with the dangers which

invariably threaten an art which is struggling to free itself from

tradition. The Church was tolerant towards the aspirations of art, so

long as they afforded an effective means for her glorification, but she

sternly repressed any efforts to break loose from the fetters of her

ordinances and customs. On the other hand, men rejoiced in what had

been so easily and rapidly gained, and satisfied themselves with the

superficial freedom which they had attained. Proportionally was the

development of a formalism in accordance with the Italian character,

which seeks for beauty always in set forms, and demanded the adoption of

such forms by church music. The opera was the model; thence sprang the

moral and artistic element which became manifest in the forms of church

music, appealing not so much to the faith of the congregation as to the

taste of musical connoisseurs. Any attempt to transport operatic forms

directly into church music was forbidden by the liturgical form

of Divine service, to which the music must be subordinate. But the

connection was severed with the old church modes from which ancient

church music borrowed its subjects, treating them after a long since

obsolete tone-system; and a merely devotional musical symbolism was

renounced for the freedom of original creation. For though subjects

were borrowed in later times from the old church modes, they lost their

significance when detached, and were, besides, treated according to the

new lights. Finally, the sway of the singer was mighty in church music

as elsewhere. The habit of delighting in the finished performances

of the vocalist was united with the idea that he who could most fully

satisfy the prevailing taste was also the most worthy to serve the Most

High and to exalt the glory of worship. We shall therefore find the

church music of the latter half of the eighteenth century composed

of the same materials as operatic music, and exercising much the same

effect.

{CHURCH MUSIC IN GERMANY.}

(243)

The same influence which had been won by Italian operatic music in

Germany penetrated to the churches of Catholic Germany, and attained to

complete sovereignty. But there was a difference, important, though not

at the time generally or consciously felt. The conception and mode of

expression of Italian church music was, although secularised, yet in its

essence national, and in its appeals to religious emotion it might count

upon universal comprehension and sympathy.

But transplanted to Germany both the ideas and their mode of execution

were strange, and could only be adopted after a preliminary artistic

training; what in Italy had grown up in the course of national

development was transmitted to Germany as mere form. The delicate

sense of beauty and of grace, the excitable, passionate nature of the

Italians, could not be transplanted, and the external adjuncts were

even more superficially treated than on the soil from which they sprang.

Contrapuntal work, especially the fugue, was haunted by the school

traditions of church usages, which conduced to a spiritless formalism

of routine. Thus, carelessness and pedantry, superficiality and dulness

were combined, and church music declined more rapidly and visibly than

the opera. The difference between the true essence and its extinct form

is the more apparent and significant the deeper it lies; and to this

must be added the fact that the continuous demand for church music' gave

rise to the production of a mass of inferior work, from which the opera

was preserved in deference to the taste of the public. Under these

circumstances it was impossible even for a surpassing genius to do

more than distinguish himself in some particulars; the efforts of

an individual after thorough-going reform could only be successful

supported by the spirit of the age and of the nation.[9]

This general position held by church music was modified in different

regions by local peculiarities of the liturgy, by the tastes of church

authorities, and by the differences in the

{CHURCH MUSIC.}

(244)

musical forces at command. The peculiar circumstances under which Mozart

wrote in Salzburg are described by himself in a letter to Padre Martini

(September 4, 1776):[10]--

I live in a place where music prospers but little, although we have some

good musicians, and some especially good composers of thorough knowledge

and taste. The theatre suffers for want of singers; we have few male

sopranos, and are not likely to have more, for they require high pay,

and over-liberality is not our weak point. I busy myself with writing

church and chamber music, and we have two capital contrapuntists, Haydn

and Adlgasser. My father is kapellmeister at the metropolitan church,

which gives me the opportunity of writing as much as I like for the

church. But as my father has been thirty-six years in the service of the

court, and knows that the Archbishop does not care to have people of

an advanced age about him, he takes things quietly and devotes himself

chiefly to literature, which has always been his favourite study. Our

church music differs widely and increasingly from that of Italy.

A mass, with Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, the Sonata at the Epistle, the

Offertorium or Motett, Sanctus and Agnus Dei, must not last longer than

three-quarters of an hour, even on festivals when the Archbishop himself

officiates. This kind of composition requires special study. And yet the

mass must have all the instruments, trumpets, drums, &c. Ah, if we were

not so far from each other, how much I should have to tell you!

We have further information on the arrangements made for church music in

the cathedral.[11] "The cathedral contains a large organ at the back by

the entrance, four side organs in front of the choir, and a little choir

organ below the choir where the choristers sit. The large organ is only

used on grand occasions and for preludes; during the performance one of

the four side organs is played, generally that next to the altar on

the right side, where the solo singers and basses are. Opposite, by the

left-side organ, are the violinists, &c., and on the two other sides

are two choruses of trumpets and drums. The lower choir organ and

double-bass join in when required."[12]

{MOZART'S MASSES.}

(245)

Among Mozart's compositions for the Church, his masses.[13] by reason

of their importance in Divine service, take the first place.[14] In

the divisions of the several parts, we find him following in the beaten

track of the Neapolitan school. The different parts of the text coincide

with the prescribed pauses made by the officiating priest, but are

very differently worked out.[15] Where the composer has free scope,

the separate sections are usually treated as independent pieces, with

regular alternations of solo and chorus. But such elaborate masses

were only performed on solemn occasions (Missa solemnis) or through the

preference of an influential personage--they took up too much time for

the regular service.

In the short mass (Missa brevis) the larger divisions were treated in

the main as a connected musical movement of which the separate sections

were detached indeed, but not independent of each other; the degree of

connection is of course very varied.

The thrice-repeated cry, "Kyrie eleison! Christe eleison! Kyrie

eleison!" is regularly developed into a lengthy movement. It was

formerly the custom[16] to prefix a short, slow and solemn movement on

the words "Kyrie eleison," to an agitated more elaborate one[17] (49,

65,66, K.); but afterwards the whole became one movement. The prayer for

the mercy of God is animated, and though devoid of depth, never sinks to

mere trifling. A more serious mood is generally indicated by the severer

contrapuntal treatment of the voices (192, 194, 262, K). The words

"Christe eleison" are regularly accentuated, usually with an expression

of beseeching melancholy, and often by solo voices. The solo voices and

choruses generally alternate in the Kyrie.

The Gloria[18] is divided into several movements,

{CHURCH MUSIC.}

(246)

conformably to the successive invocations of which it consists. The

character of the whole is one of exulting praise, the tone being

indicated by the opening words, "Gloria in excelsis Deo." The effort to

express the solemn dignity of divine worship by external splendour, is

apparent in the animated, fervent, and often stately progress of this

movement. The opening subject is revived at appointed places, usually at

the Quoniam, and forms a connecting thread throughout the piece. A solo

is often introduced at the words "Lau-damus Te and, even without much

intentional expression, the four commas of the words, "Laudamus Te,

benedicimus Te, adoramus Te, glorificamus Te," form natural pauses, and

regulate the musical and rhythmical division of the passage.

But the contrast of solo and chorus is determined less by the sense of

the words than by the necessities of art, requiring variations of light

and shade. As a rule, the words of highest import are given to the

chorus; the solos serve for ornament, or as a preparation for a chorus

of renewed and increased strength.

The central point of this part of the mass is formed by the

thrice-repeated cry:--

Qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis!

Qui tollis peccata mundi, suscipe deprecationem nostram!

Qui sedes ad dexteram patris, miserere nobis

Here we have a mood expressed of deep agitation, offering excellent

opportunity for musical treatment, both in feeling and form. The "Qui

tollis" is the nucleus of all Mozart's Glorias; he enunciates it simply

enough through the chorus, relying for effect on the charm of rich and

original harmonies, as bold in conception as they are clear and decided

in rendering. The words which follow, "Quoniam Tu solus sanctus, Tu

solus Dominus, Tu solus altissimus, Jesu Christe," are

{GLORIA--CREDO.}

(247)

treated as a song of praise,[19] in order to relieve the gloom of the

"Qui tollis," and to give stronger emphasis to what is to follow. For

the last words, "cum Sancto Spiritu in gloria Dei Patris, Amen," are

treated without regard to the context, as an independent fugue. In

Mozart's early masses the fugue is short (49, 65, K.), but they

soon became long and often elaborate (60,115,139,167,192, 262, K.).

Archbishop Hieronymus, however, had an aversion to fugues; and in

Mozart's later masses the Gloria came to an end in a short choral

passage (220, 257, 258, 259, K.).

The Credo offered the greatest difficulties to musical treatment. A long

movement, whose several parts are dependent on one emphatic verb placed

at the beginning, cannot be musically rendered in such a way that the

connection remains apparent to the hearer; each phrase disturbs the

grammatical construction of the period. In order to overcome this

difficulty the word "credo" was repeated at fitting points (192,257,

K).[20] But although logical requirements are thus to a certain degree

satisfied, the repeated "credo" does not fit into the grammatical

structure, and the contrast between the spoken and the musical

expression is in reality only intensified.

In close connection with this is the further difficulty that the

delarations of faith belong essentially to the domain of speculation,

and can rarely work directly on the feelings; neither does the form

into which they are thrown incite the fancy to musical expression.

These difficulties might be surmounted at a time when music with all

her powers and capacities placed herself unreservedly at the disposal

of worship, accepting the prescribed words with perfect faith in

their sanctity, and only anxious to give them their fullest and truest

expression. There was as little question of

{CHURCH MUSIC.}

(248)

individuality in art as in faith; the unquestioned law of ecclesiastical

infallibility impressed on every work the stamp of the subjection of

art to religion. Even the forms of the music followed the ancient and

hallowed traditions of the cultus, and embodied ecclesiastical formulas

in strict counterpoint. But as by degrees subjective emotion and

expression gained ground in church music, and as the old severity of

form gave place to a wealth of means and expedients, the ecclesiastical

text fell under the criticism of the musicians, who subjected it to the

test of the conditions required for the production of a perfect work of

art. Composers learned to look upon the Credo as material to be worked

up into an artistic musical form, even when it did not lend itself

easily to the process. A sort of type was gradually evolved, that was

closely adhered to in many particulars. One such, for instance, is the

strong accentuation of death in the words, "judicare vivos et mortuos,"

and "resurrectionem mortuo-rum," the tone-painting of the "descendit de

coelis," the repetition of the "non" in the words "cujus regni non

erit finis," and others of the same kind. Such an evident tendency to

emphasise details at the cost of the whole, only shows how composers

took refuge in whatever was capable of musical expression, in order to

extricate themselves as far as they could from the burden of the rest.

The main passages on which the musical strength of the Credo was

concentrated are those in which the mention of the incarnation,

crucifixion, and resurrection of Christ appeal most vividly to the

senses and the imagination. It had become customary to connect the

words, "Qui propter nos homines et propter nostram salutem descendit de

coelis," whether made prominent by solo singing or not, with those which

preceded them, and to make a pause with "Et incarnatus."[21] These

words are generally rendered by a tender solo voice, as if they would

fain hover round the cradle of the heavenly Child, to express the

gratitude of mankind for his incarnation. Then solemnly and sadly the

chorus depicts

{CREDO.}

(249)

the deep pain of "Crucifixus etiam pro nobis sub Pontio Pilato, passus

et sepultus est," breaking out at "Et resur-rexit" &c., into joyful

trust in the resurrection. In all this Mozart's wonderful genius

succeeded in awakening imagination and emotion which, again, his

artistic moderation knew how to calm; his firm grasp of his art enabling

him to produce the most striking effect with the simplest means, and

to gather up the details, so that each sustains and elevates the other

without injuring the consistency of the whole Credo. This unusual

combination of qualities gives to this part of the mass a high degree of

artistic finish even when the treatment is most simple and confined.

The words "Et in Spiritum Sanctum" are usually given to a solo

voice,--more, however, from custom than for any special signification of

their own (49, 65, 139, K.); they are introduced by a long instrumental

prelude (262 K.). Apart from the interests of the Church, which might

have some influence here, the necessity could not but be felt for

a strong contrast between this and the following passages. For what

follows, "Et unam sanctam catholicam et apos-tolicam ecclesiam," &c.,

is given by the whole strength of the chorus. The last words, "et vitam

venturi saeculi. Amen," is again treated as a fugue. Here, again, we

find first a short fugued movement (49, 65, 192, K.), but later a long

and cleverly worked-out fugue (139, 167, 262, K.), until the influence

of Archbishop Hieronymus led to the conclusion of the Credo, like the

Gloria, in a short animated chorus (257, 258, 259, 275, K.).

Various methods were employed to gather the phrases of the Creed into a

consistent musical work. The repetition of the word "credo" (167,

257, K.), even in places where it somewhat disturbs the grammatical

construction, serves to combine the musical texture of the movements

The periodical recurrence of the musical phrase conduces to careful

mechanism, and gives opportunity for variety and increased intensity in

the treatment of the subject. Apart from this, unity is provided for

by a pregnant rhythmical passage or a carefully finished subject which

marks the beginning of the Credo, and underlies its several divisions,

{CHURCH MUSIC.}

(250)

forming a sort of background from which the more impressive images stand

out.

The appropriate elaboration of this subject is the special task of the

artist, and the text is to be considered only as a _point de départ_

to it. The mode of treatment varies and is sometimes contrapuntal,

sometimes harmonic; in one part the voices predominate, in another the

instruments, in which latter case the then favourite running passage for

the violins is frequently employed.