Part 7

The face of Mozart has been idealized. The authentic portraits coincide with the descriptions of his contemporaries. He was small, thin, and pale; with a large head and a large nose; eyes well shaped, but short-sighted, although he never wore spectacles; he had plenty of fine hair, of which he was proud, and he was vain of his hands and feet; he dressed carefully and elegantly, and was fond of jewelry. He rode horseback, and took great pleasure in playing billiards, bowls, and in dancing. He was very fond of punch, of which beverage Kelly saw him take "copious draughts." His prevailing characteristics were amiability, generosity, and a warm appreciation of all that was good and noble in music or mankind. His generosity was strikingly shown when, in the darkest hours of need, he offered to take care of Mariana until her betrothed had found the position necessary for marriage. It was no doubt often abused by such scapegraces as Stadler and Schikaneder. He poured out his affection on the members of his household. He associated freely, and apparently with equal enjoyment, with aristocrats, learned men, members of the orchestra, singers, and loungers in the taverns. He was full of fun, and he dearly loved a joke; he delighted in doggerel rhymes. His intercourse with musicians was as a rule friendly, and he seldom spoke ill of his neighbors. Gluck appreciated him as much as Salieri envied him, but he and Mozart were never intimate, although they dined together and paid each other compliments. Kozeluch and other small fry hated him, and they also hated Haydn. His relations with Paisiello, Sarti and Martin were most friendly; and nothing perhaps illustrates more clearly the sweetness of Mozart's nature than his immortalizing a theme from Martin's "Cosa rara," an opera which had prevailed against his "Figaro," by introducing it in the second finale of "Don Giovanni." He praised Pleyel, sympathized with Gyrowetz, foresaw the greatness of Beethoven, mourned the death of Linley, and loved Haydn.

In his youth he showed a fondness for arithmetic, and in later years he was a ready reckoner. He had an unmistakable talent for the languages; he understood the French, English, and Italian tongues. He was acquainted with Latin; he had read the works of excellent authors; he even wrote poetry, but as a manner of jesting. He was not without knowledge of history. He drew with skill. His letters are full of charm, and Nissen regretted that a man who used his pen so cleverly had not written concerning his art. The reply to this is simple, namely, that Mozart was too busy in making music to write about it. This most honest and amiable of men loved animals, and birds were particularly dear to him.

Whatever his religious convictions may have been after he reached man's estate, he wrote to his father, on hearing of his illness, as follows: "As death, strictly speaking, is the true end and aim of our lives, I have for the last two years made myself so well acquainted with this true, best friend of mankind, that his image no longer terrifies, but calms and consoles me. And I thank God for giving me the opportunity of learning to look upon death as the key that unlocks the gate of true bliss." The man as seen in his life and letters was simple, true, averse to flattery and sycophancy, generous, and eminently lovable.

In considering the compositions of this man, who died before he was thirty-six, and spent much time in travel, the most superficial investigator must be struck by the mere number. There are 20 dramatic works; 2 oratorios, a funeral hymn, 3 cantatas, and the reinstrumentation of 4 oratorios by Handel; 66 vocal pieces with orchestral accompaniments; 23 canons and a collection of songs; 48 pieces for the church, and 20 masses, including the Requiem, which however was probably completed by Süssmayer; 22 pianoforte sonatas and fantasias; 17 organ sonatas, 16 variations for bugle and pianoforte, 23 little pieces, and 11 sonatas and pieces for four hands on two pianofortes; 45 sonatas for violin and pianoforte; 8 trios, 2 quartets and 1 quintette for pianoforte and strings; for strings alone there are 3 duos, 3 trios, 29 quartets, 8 quintets; then there are 2 quartets with flute, 1 with oboe, 1 quintet with horn; 10 concertos for violin, 1 for two violins, 1 for violin and viola, 28 for the pianoforte, 1 for two pianofortes, 1 for three pianofortes, 1 for bassoon, 1 for oboe, 4 for flute and 1 for flute and harp, 5 for horn, 1 for clarinet,--in all 55; in dance music there is one gavotte, 39 contradances, 56 waltzes, 96 minuets, a pantomime and a ballet; there are 27 different pieces of instrumental music, as marches, adagios, etc., 33 divertissements, serenades or cassations, all pieces of long breath, including each from 10 to 12 movements; there are 49 symphonies. These authentic works, accepted by Köchel, number in all 769 compositions. Then when one reflects on the quality of the music and its artistic value, when one finds in nearly each work the traces at least of genius, and reflects that a third of them are masterpieces, he begins to realize the might of the man. He was naturally the most spontaneous of musicians, and in this respect--in pure creation--without doubt the greatest of them all. Rarely are seen such fecundity and such versatility. Unlike Handel, when a work was finished, it was finished; it did not enter again into another composition. The charge of plagiarism was never brought against him except in one instance: the religious march in "Idomeneus" was traced by a friend to the march in Gluck's "Alceste." He wrote as though he could not help it. Jumping from the bed, he ran to the pianoforte. The barber found him restless. His mind was preoccupied at table. In travel, the landscape, the very motion of the carriage stimulated his imagination. He was constantly jotting down his thoughts on scraps of paper. Much of his greatest music was composed, even in detail, in his head before he took his pen. The conversation of his friends, noises in the house or street did not distract him. His faculty of concentration was incredibly developed, and Constanze said that he wrote his scores as though he were writing a letter. And so his inspiration, as shown in the hasty composition of the "Don Giovanni" overture, reminded Victor Wilder of the saying of the first Napoleon: "Inspiration is only the instantaneous solution of a long meditated problem."

In examining the works themselves, many of them must be passed over without notice. Some were written for special occasions; some, for combinations of instruments, that no longer, or rarely, are heard in concert-halls; and it would be idle to assert that all his works are equally worthy of respect. The complete collection of the writings of even such a genius as Voltaire contains dreary pages and frivolous opinions. Let us examine more particularly his pianoforte music, the chamber music, such as the string quartets and quintets; the symphonies; the religious music; and the operas, looking at the works themselves, comparing them with that which was contemporaneous, and observing the influence on the musicians that followed him. The songs, with the exception of the "Veilchen" (The Violet), were set to meaningless words and are not to be ranked with the best of his compositions; but this same "Violet" in its lyrical-dramatic setting pointed the way to the after glory of the German song as seen in Schubert, Schumann and Franz. And nearly all of the concert-arias written for special singers and for special use seem to-day a little antiquated, and cast in the old and traditional mould. As Mozart first was known as a pianoforte player, let us first look at his writings for that instrument. (I use the term pianoforte throughout this article, following the example of Rubinstein, who, in his "Conversation on Music" (1892), speaks of compositions for Clavecin, Clavichord, Clavi-cymbal, Virginal, Spinett, etc., "as written for pianoforte, as to-day we can only perform them on this instrument.")

There is no doubt but that Mozart was the greatest pianoforte player of his time. The testimony in his favor is overwhelming. His hands were small and well-shaped, and some of his hearers wondered that he could do so much with them. He had elaborated an admirable system of fingering, which he owed to the careful study of Bach, whose pianoforte music he had played from a very early age. He regarded good fingering as the basis of expressive playing. He insisted that the player should have "a quiet, steady hand," and that the passages should "flow like oil"; he therefore objected to all bravura feats that might be detrimental to "the natural ease and flexibility." He was vexed by exaggerations of tempos, by over-rapidity of execution, by sentimental rubatos. He demanded correctness, "ease and certainty, delicacy and good taste, and above all the power of breathing life and emotion into the music and of so expressing its meaning as to place the performer for the moment on a level with the creator of the work before him." It is hard for men of another generation to gain an idea of the qualities of the virtuosoship of the pianist that moved and thrilled the audiences of his time. We must take the word of his hearers. Clementi declared that he never heard any one play so intellectually and gracefully as Mozart. Rochlitz waxed enthusiastic over the brilliancy and "the heart-melting tenderness of his execution;" Dittersdorf praised the union of art and taste; and Haydn, with tears in his eyes, could not forget his playing, because it came from the heart. Unfortunately we can not estimate his virtues as a player from his works, for all that heard him agree that his improvising was the crowning glory of his art. Variations on a well-known theme were in fashion, and the variations were often improvised. The published variations of Mozart are light and pleasing; he did not care for them, and they were written, no doubt, for the entertainment of his pupils or his friends. Of the three rondos, the one in A minor (1787) is very original and of exquisite beauty, and is a favorite to-day in concert-halls. The fantasia in C minor (1785) is an important work. Five movements, in various keys and tempos are bound together, and though each is in a measure independent, the sections seem to follow each other inevitably. The harmonies are daring, when the date of its composition is considered, and the mood, the _Stimmung_, is modern in its melancholy and doubt. In treating the sonata form Mozart was the successor of Ph. Em. Bach and Haydn.

Whether his sonatas of the Vienna period are solo or accompanied by other instruments, they have only three movements. He first sought beauty of melody, for song was to him the foundation, the highest expression of music. Therefore the themes were carefully sung, and the second subject was made of more importance by him than by his predecessors. Often the chief effect in his sonata movements as in his concertos is gained by the delivery of a sustained melody, and these melodies written for his own hands show the influence of the peculiar characteristics of his own performance. Frequently in the elaboration of the themes he introduced new melodies, so that we find Dittersdorf complaining of the prodigality of the composer, who "gives his hearers no time to breathe." When he used polyphony, it was not to display pedantry but to accentuate the beauty of the themes.

The slow middle movements are in song form, and are full of emotion and tender grace; eminently spontaneous, and coming from the heart. The final movements are generally the weakest. They show the facility with which he wrote, and their gayness often approaches triviality. Passing over the pianoforte compositions for two performers and for two pianofortes--not that they are unworthy of attention-- we come to the sonatas with violin accompaniment, which, during the Vienna period, were, many of them, written for pupils. They are characterized by beautiful melodies and bold harmonies rather than by any great depth or exhibition of scholarship. The violin part is independent, and not an accompaniment, as was usual at the time. The trios or terzets for pianoforte, violin and 'cello were chiefly written for amateurs to play in musical parties. Violoncellists of any force were rare in these circles, and it is not unlikely that this was a serious hindrance to Mozart's further development of the trio. Far greater in breadth of design and in thematic elaboration are the two pianoforte quartets (1785 and 1786). The trios were written for social purposes, and brilliancy was perhaps too much cultivated; but in these quartets passion enters, strong and fierce and bitter. In 1784 Mozart wrote his father that his quintet in E-flat major for pianoforte, oboe, clarinet, horn, and bassoon, which was received with great applause in a concert given by him in the theatre, was the best thing he had ever written, and he chose it to play before Paesiello. It is certainly a composition of remarkable beauty, not so much on account of its thematic invention as for its intimate knowledge of the peculiarities of the different instruments and for the balance of euphony preserved throughout. The pianoforte concertos, of which seventeen were written in Vienna, were, as a rule, intended for his own concert use. He described the first three as "a happy medium between too easy and too difficult." He added in this letter to his father, that "even ignoramuses will be pleased with them without knowing why." Two years later (1784) he wrote, "I cannot make a choice between the two concertos in B-flat and D. Either one will make the player sweat." The distinguishing merit of these compositions for pianoforte and orchestra, unjustly neglected in these days, is the combination of the two different forces, while these forces at the same time preserve their individuality. Instead of a duel to the death between the instrument and the orchestra, there is a generous appreciation of the qualities and limitations of the pianoforte, which in Mozart's time was still weak in mechanism. Therefore one gives way to the other for the effect of the whole. The orchestra enters not to crush but to support. Often the pianoforte part seems absurdly simple, but a closer investigation will show that this simplicity is most artfully designed and intended. Seldom are important themes given to the pianoforte or orchestra alone; they are shared generously. And no words can reproduce the colors of the orchestral tone-paintings, or describe the marvelous results gained by simple means and an unerring instinct. The first movements are in the sonata form, but there is a certain freedom, and the proportions are on a larger scale. There is a cadenza, invariable, at the conclusion, and Mozart in his concerts excited wonder by his improvisations. The cadenzas published were for the use of pupils. The second movement is in song-form, full of sentiment, often romantic, the expression of temperament; the song is sometimes varied. The last movement is generally in rondo form, and the influence of the dance is strongly marked. These movements are gay and graceful, and occasionally there is a touch of Haydn's humor. The greatest of these concertos are perhaps those in D minor (K. 466), C (467), C minor (491) and in C (503). Nor among his pianoforte works must the two pieces originally written for a musical clock be forgotten, which are only now known by a four-hand arrangement. The pianoforte works of Mozart are much neglected in these days, and most unjustly. It is the fashion to call them simple and antiquated. But the best of the concertos and the sonatas make severe demands upon the mechanism and taste of the pianist; the apparent simplicity is often a stumbling block to him that eyes them askew; and only by an absolute mastery of the mechanism controlled by temperament can the song be sung as Mozart heard it, so that the hearer may forget the box of cold keys and jingling wires.

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.