In the days of Mozart the favorite amusement of wealthy amateurs of
music was the string quartet. Haydn was the man who first showed the
way, although Boccherini should not be utterly forgotten. The set of
six dedicated by Mozart to Haydn, show the growth of the quartet, the
individualizing of each part. For in the ideal work of this species, each
part should be of equal importance. This advance, however, was not to the
public taste. He was accused of undue originality. Prince Grassalcovicz
was so angry when he found that the discords coming from the players were
actually in the parts, that he tore the pages in pieces. The publisher
returned them, as full of printer's errors. Learned men, as Fétis and G.
Weber, have written learned analyses of the introduction to the quartet in
C major, against it and in its favor. The hearers of to-day, accustomed
to the last quartets of Beethoven and the licenses of modern composers,
are not shocked even by the celebrated false relations in the aforesaid
introduction. Not only do these compositions display, in clearest light,
the mastery of form and all contrapuntal devices; they are a mine of
sensuous and spiritual riches. The quartet is ennobled; the minuet, that
jolly, rustic dance of Haydn, becomes, with Mozart, the court dance of
noble dames, full of grace and delicacy. The finales abound in dignified
humor, and occasionally pathos is found. Upon these six quartets Mozart
lavished the treasures of his nature and his art. In writing the three for
Frederick William II. of Prussia, he remembered the favorite instrument of
the monarch, and brought the violoncello into greater prominence, making
it often a solo instrument, with the melody in its higher notes. This
necessitated a different treatment of the violins and viola, and resulted
in more brilliancy with an occasional loss of strength. Written, as they
were, to gratify the taste of a monarch, they show more elegance, perhaps,
than depth of feeling, but in invention and in exquisite proportion they
are worthy of even the great name of Mozart. Without stopping to examine
as carefully as it deserves the remarkable trio for violin, viola, and
violoncello (K. 563), in six movements, let us glance at the quintets, in
which the viola is doubled, unlike the many compositions of Boccherini in
which two 'cellos are employed. The quintets in C major and G minor were
composed in 1787, the D major in 1790, the E-flat major, 1791. These four
quintets follow the path pointed out by the six quartets. There are biting
and harsh passages, to impress more forcibly the composer's intentions,
"comparatively frequent successions of ninths in a circle of fifths." And
even Mozart seldom wrote anything so full of wild and sobbing passion as
the first movement of the G-minor quintet, in which the second subject is
of an Italian intensity and a conviction that remind one of the terrible
earnestness of Verdi, the Verdi of the middle period. Yet this melody,
so direct and complete, is taken as matter for contrapuntal treatment.
The adagio is also a masterpiece, approached, perhaps equalled, but not
surpassed by Beethoven. Polyphony is the life of these quintets; but it
is not purely scholastic polyphony. Mozart once said to Michael Kelly,
"Melody is the essence of music. I compare a good melodist to a fine
racer, and counterpointists to hack post horses." But in these quintets
the counterpoint is so melodious that the tricks and strainings of the
pedagogue are never brought to mind. Here may also be mentioned the
quintet in A major for clarinet and strings (1789), written for Anton
Stadler, a dissipated fellow, a toss-pot, and riggish. But Mozart loved
him because he blew cunningly the clarinet, and he went about with him,
and ate with him, and drank with him. Although it is freer in form than
the great quartets, and the quintets in G minor, this clarinet quintet
stands beside them in its grace tinged with melancholy, its contrapuntal
skill masterly disguised, its divine melody.
[Illustration: MOZART IN PROFILE.
Cut in boxwood by Posch, a Salzburg sculptor, in 1789. This important
original has served as a model for many posthumous portraits of Mozart.]
A review of the symphonies of Mozart is a summing up of the history of
the symphony in the eighteenth century from childhood to maturity. He
was eight years old when he wrote in London his first symphony. It is
in sonata form: allegro, andante, finale: he uses the orchestra of the
predecessors of Haydn, viz., two violins, viola, bass, two oboes, and
two horns. These early symphonies of Mozart are relics of the time when
German instrumental music was still in a comparatively crude condition,
and they are chiefly interesting from the historical point of view; for
even Köchel, the devoted admirer of Mozart, says that they are wanting in
character and that the motives are without development. Look for instance
at the first symphony. The allegro has one hundred and eighteen measures;
the andante fifty; the presto ninety-one. According to the fashion of the
old suite the three movements are in the same tonality. The symphonies of
1764 and 1765 are in the same form; in two of them the andante is in a
different key from the other movements. It was in 1767 that Mozart first
introduced the minuet, which was, however, without a trio. The seventeen
symphonies written from 1767 to 1772 show an advance in instrumentation
rather than in growth of form. The early ones were composed for the
eight-part orchestra, the foundation of modern orchestral works. In the
second, the two horns are replaced by two clarinets, and a bassoon is
added. Now the use of the clarinet was then rare. Christopher Denner made
the first clarinet in 1701. Gossec wrote for the instrument in 1756, and
it was first heard in England in Christian Bach's opera "Orione" (1763).
Mozart used it also in a symphony written in Paris in 1778, and he did
not introduce it again until 1783. One of the greatest innovations of
this master, the father of orchestral color, was the knowledge of the
resources of this instrument, whose voice, as Berlioz well says, is the
voice of heroic love. In Mozart's works, "whether it sings with full and
sonorous voice some episodic phrase or displays all the riches of its two
_timbres_ in a superb adagio, everywhere it is brought fully into light,
everywhere it plays an important rôle." In 1768, Mozart used the drums
and one trumpet; in 1769 two bassoons; in 1770 two trumpets; in 1771, in
an andante, two flutes. He was still making experiments. In 1773, for
the first time, he composed a symphony in the minor mode; and in this
year he first went over 200 measures in the opening allegro; he also used
four horns. In 1774 he employed two viola parts. In 1778 the "Parisian"
symphony was performed with great success at a _Concert Spirituel_. Never
before had he developed his motives to so great a length; never before
had he employed so large an orchestra; the score includes, besides the
string parts, two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, two
horns, two trumpets, drums,--in all seventeen parts. Haydn did not use so
large an orchestra until 1793. The allegros are brilliant and animated,
following the French taste of the time, and they were loudly applauded;
the andante did not produce so great an effect. After his return to
Germany he was obliged to reduce his orchestral forces, and to cut his
cloth to suit his opportunities. The "Haffner" made over from a serenade
shows that the forms of the ancient serenade and modern symphony were
still confounded; its allegro is not symphonic, but one theme is present
and rules from beginning to end. In 1783, in the symphony in C, he first
wrote an introduction to the first movement. In 1786 the symphony in D,
with an introduction, was brought out at Prague with unbounded success.
It contains, like the "Parisian," no minuet. It opens with a solemn
adagio introduction; the allegro bears a rhythmical resemblance in its
first theme to that of the "Magic Flute" overture; the andante is often
cited as a perfect example of the exquisite grace of Mozart; the finale
in its sparkling vivacity brings to mind a number of "Figaro." And here
it may be said that the symphonic instrumentation of Mozart approaches
closer dramatic formulas than that of Haydn or Beethoven. The three last
symphonies of Mozart show a wonderful advance. In a certain expression and
in a certain treatment they belong to the nineteenth century. There is
more blood, more intensity, a dread of unmeaning formalism. Technically
they are beyond criticism; and in pure expression of remarkable musical
thought, in sense of euphony and proportion, in perfection of musical
style they stand a marvel for all time. The one in E-flat was written in
June, 1788. To gain the wished-for effects clarinets are used, and no
oboes. The prevailing rhythm is ternary; and yet Mozart has so varied
the pace of the movements that there is no feeling of monotony on this
account. No prismatic words can give an idea of this "triumph of euphony";
although German commentators have exhausted what has been inelegantly
described as "the drivel of panegyric." It is true that there are points
of resemblance to Haydn's style; "but Mozart's individuality is here so
overpowering as to have given its distinguishing stamp to these very
features." No wonder that German romanticists have sought refuge in
extravagance in description. Apel attempted to turn the symphony into
a poem which was to imitate in words the character of the different
movements. Hoffmann, writer of tales of horror, composer and conductor,
caricaturist, critic, and official, one of the first to realize the
greatness of Beethoven, called the symphony the "Swan Song." "Love and
melancholy breathe forth in purest spirit tones; we feel ourselves drawn
with inexpressible longing towards the forms which beckon us to join them
in their flight through the clouds to another sphere. The night blots
out the last purple rays of day, and we extend our arms to the beings
that summon us as they move with the spheres in the eternal circles of
the solemn dance." Our criticism of to-day is written in a different
spirit. We use freely the test-tube and litmus paper; we pry and analyse.
Such out-pourings we call hifalutin; but it must be remembered that
the acute Hoffmann put them into the mouth of the half-crazed Johannes
Kreisler. A striking contrast to the E-flat symphony is the G minor
written in July, 1788. Deldevez has described it in a sentence; "It is
graceful, passionate, melancholy; it is inspiration united with science."
Deldevez has also pointed out that it is the truest and the most complete
expression of the minor mode; that the tonality is treated in the most
vigorous manner; that the modulations succeed each other according to the
severe precepts of the school. It is the symphony of Mozart that is most
full of passion, and yet the composer never forgot in writing it that
"music, when expressing horrors, must still be music." The symphony in
C, August, 1788, is called, for some reason or other, possibly for its
majesty, the "Jupiter." There is here not so much of human sentiment and
passion as in the G minor symphony, but there is the splendor, as well as
the serenity that is peculiar to Mozart; and the finale is a masterpiece
of contrapuntal skill that is unsurpassed in music, for the fugue is made
on a symphonic plan, and thus two distinct art-forms are moulded into
one. Jahn has said that the highest quality of these three symphonies
is "the harmony of tone-color, the healthy combination of orchestral
sound," and he admits at the same time the impotence of language to
reproduce the substance of a musical work. Richard Wagner wrote that "the
longing sigh of the great human voice, drawn to him by the loving power
of his genius, breathes from his instruments." And in these sayings the
two great elements of Mozart's symphonic writing are fitly described.
In his pianoforte concertos Mozart strove to set out and adorn by the
orchestral instruments the pianoforte part, and at the same time give an
enchanting musical background. In his symphonies "he sought to give his
melody, by way of compensation for its delivery by mere instruments, the
depth of feeling and ardor that lies at the source of the human voice as
the expression of the unfathomable depths of the heart"; and in this he
succeeded by leading "the irresistible stream of richest harmony into the
heart of his melody." Well might the cool-headed Ambros say of the last
great three, "considered as pure music, it is hardly worth while to ask
whether the world possesses anything more perfect."
[Illustration: MONUMENT TO MOZART IN SALZBURG.