Part 9

Rossini once said that his "Barbiere" was an _opera buffa_, while Mozart in "Le Nozze di Figaro" gave the model of the _dramma giocoso_: a fine distinction, worthy of the shrewdness of the author. This Italian adaptation of a French comedy set to music by a German differs from the accepted form of _opera buffa_, in the development of the plot and the delineation of character. The opera is at once dramatic, comic and musical, not merely a bundle of comic situations and gross caricature with incidental music. Rossini's "Barbiere," a masterpiece for all time, is undoubtedly the truer reflection of the spirit of Beaumarchais; for Mozart has idealized the intrigues and characters of the play. The libretto of da Ponte is admirable in spite of the omission of the political satire that perhaps justifies the immorality of the play. In this opera the musical character-drawing is most cunning. Susanna and Marcellina are jealous, but how different is their common jealousy from the noble jealousy of the Countess. Rossini has drawn the Countess in her youth and made her a mischievous and rebellious child. Mozart finds her a loving and abused wife, who does not encourage the page's advances, but, suffering, yet not without hope, seeks to win back her husband's love. In Susanna's passion there is a tinge of sensuality, but the music given her by Mozart is nobly sensuous. And so her merriment, her teasing, her caprices are all fitly expressed. The Cherubino of Beaumarchais is a wanton youth who looks with amorous eye upon all women; but his fever is turned into absorbing and trembling love when he is in the presence of Mozart's Countess. So too the men are carefully distinguished. The music given to each one of the characters can not be mistaken; it surrounds each like an atmosphere. This characterization is clearly seen in the masterly finales. Take the eight movements, each distinct in design, that form the finale of the second act. Succeeding complications as the number of persons in the action increases; different emotions, as jealousy, merriment, anger, forgiveness; the entrance and denunciation of the drunken gardener; the arrival of Marcellina and her confederates; all these seemingly opposing elements are firmly bound together and knit into an harmonious whole that constantly increases in dramatic and musical strength. The other great finale, a succession of misunderstandings and surprises is almost equally remarkable, and the sextet, which according to Kelly was Mozart's favorite piece in the whole opera, is not far below it. All these ensemble numbers are at the same time so skilfully constructed that there is an appearance of utter freedom of dramatic action. No words can give an idea of the wealth of melody, a wealth that is prodigally squandered, and yet this melody enhances the dramatic truth and does not stifle it. The instrumentation is always appropriate to the scenic effect. It supplements the voice. Whenever the same subject is used in a great number of recitatives, there is an astonishing variety of instrumental expression. It is said that Mozart's contemporaries were particularly struck by his employment of wind instruments, as in the accompaniment to Cherubino's romanze and air. And yet how simple the means; how meager the resources would seem to young composers of to-day who even in comic operas feel obliged to use the trombones and drums for the accompaniment of the slightest recitative. In this opera the orchestra takes its rightful place, it does not seek to dominate. It is always conscious of the action on the stage, but it is not envious; it gladly assists, and strengthens the impression. Its tone-colors aid in the distinguishing of the characters. And above all, in the orchestra as well as on the stage, there is ever present the sense of dramatic truth and unerring instinct in the expression of it.

The libretto of "Don Giovanni" has been often censured, and without real justice; for nearly all the feelings of humanity are expressed by the characters. The supernatural, the vulgar, tragedy and comedy are mixed together; even in the scene where the rake-helly hero plunges into eternal flames, the element of farce is present. Beethoven, it is true, thought the subject a scandalous one, unworthy of musical treatment; but it was admirably adapted to the dramatic temperament of Mozart. "Don Giovanni is a temperament of flame and fire that has no time for monologues; he acts; it is life without shackles, without curb, flowing as the lava of a volcano, which destroys everything in its path."

The various scenes, the conflicting passions, are marvellously reproduced in the music of Mozart. From the very opening where Leporello keeps impatient watch to the unearthly scene between the Statue and the libertine, there is an unceasing flow of exquisite melody that is not only appropriate to the characters and the action, but is also the fullest and most complete expression of the plot and incidents. Berlioz objected to the florid air sung by Donna Anna, on the ground that it was not essentially dramatic; but there have been singers who could express passion in a roulade and sway the hearer by a trill; such is the power of personal conviction. It is true that the last finale is an anti-climax. The interest ceases with the punishment of the hero, and although attempts have been made to give the opera with this finale, they have not been successful; and the curtain rightly falls with the descent of Don Giovanni. To speak in detail of the myriad beauties of this masterpiece would be simply to analyze the score measure by measure. Its immortal melodies are known throughout the world. Musicians of all schools have vied with men eminent in the other walks of life in the most extravagant eulogy. In this opera is seen the universality of Mozart's genius. His knowledge of humanity, his sympathy with all classes and conditions of men. It is the most realistic of his works; it is at the same time the most ideal. Not without reason did Goethe pass over Cherubini and von Weber, Auber and Rossini, Beethoven and the rest, and say that Mozart was the one who should have set his Faust to music. Not without reason did he mention him with Shakespeare.

"Cosi fan tutte" and "La Clemenza di Tito" were written hurriedly. Neither is an advance in the career of the composer. The first is a return to the old-fashioned _opera buffa_; the second looks longingly towards the ancient _opera seria_. The plot of the former is vulgar, improbable and stupid; and that of the latter is extremely dull. The music of "Cosi fan tutte" is often delightful, as in the famous quintet, the second terzet; but there is not the same degree of psychological characterization found in his three great operas; and there are many concessions to popular taste. "La Clemenza di Tito" belongs to that class of compositions described by the French as _grandes machines officielles_. The finale is worthy of Mozart; but as a whole the opera is inferior to "Idomeneo" even in the instrumentation.

When Schikaneder learned that Marinelli, a rival manager, also thought of putting on the stage a fairy drama made out of Wieland's "Lulu," he changed the plot of his "Magic flute" and substituted for the evil genius of the play the high priest Sarastro, who appears to be custodian of the secrets and the executor of the wishes of the masonic order. The libretto has been ruthlessly condemned by many for its obscurity, absurdity, triviality and buffoonery. Certain writers, however, have found a deep and symbolical meaning in the most frivolous dialogue and even in the music of the overture. Some have gone so far as to regard the opera as a symbolical representation of the French Revolution: with the Queen of Night as the incarnation of royalty; Pamina as Liberty, for whom Tamino, the People, burns with passionate love; Sarastro as the Wisdom of the Legislature. Others have claimed that no one who was not a Freemason could appreciate the merits of the libretto at their true value. Now, Mozart himself saw nothing in the text but the story of a magic opera. Goethe and Hegel were equally blind. The former once wrote of the text that "the author understood perfectly the art of producing great theatrical effects by contrasts," and Hegel praised the libretto highly for its mixture of the supernatural and the common, for its episodes of the initiations and the tests. Rubinstein likes the variety: "pathetic, fantastic, lyric, comic, naive, romantic, dramatic, tragic, yes, it would be hard to find an expression that is wanting in it. It is evident the genius of a Mozart was required to reproduce it all musically, as he has done; but such texts might incite less genial composers to interesting work." But who in listening to the music heeds Tamino pursued by the snake, the gloomy Queen, or the vengeance of the Moor? Who is disquieted by the padlock or the glockenspiel? He listens to the overture and forgets the "prodigious complexity" in "its clearness, fascination and irresistible effect," and he says with Saint Saëns, "it is a _tour de force_ which Mozart only could have accomplished." He laughs with Papageno; he woos with Tamino; he is initiated into the solemn mysteries. He does not understand the plot; he does not desire to understand it; for his mind and his senses are soothed by the continual and varied melody. As regards the instrumentation Jahn has condensed all criticism into this one sentence: "It is the point of departure for all that modern music has achieved in this direction." Nor can the influence which the opera has exerted in the formation of German music be overrated. For the first time all the resources of great genius were brought to bear upon a genuine German opera. No one has summed up so tersely and so fully the operatic genius of Mozart as Rubinstein: "Gluck had achieved great things in the opera before him; yes, opened new paths, but in comparison with Mozart he is, so to say, of stone. Besides, Mozart has the merit of having removed the opera from the icy pathos of mythology into real life, into the purely human, and from the Italian to the German language, and thereby to a national path. The most remarkable feature of his operas is the musical characteristic he has given to every figure, so that each acting personage has become an immortal type. That which he has made, he alone could make: a god-like creation, all flooded with light. In hearing Mozart I always wish to exclaim: 'Eternal sunshine in music, thy name is Mozart!'"

Mozart once said in regard to his lesser works, "Woe to the man that judges me by these trifles." But the skill in instrumentation, the heaven-born song, the spontaneity of counterpoint, and the exquisite sense of proportion are often displayed in the serenades and _divertimenti_. And in these qualities of art he still reigns supreme. It is true that he founded no school in the narrow sense of the word; but he smoothed the path for Beethoven; and without him the noble line in direct succession would have been of later birth. It is idle, and yet it is common in these days, to compare a composer of one generation, or even of a century, with the composer of earlier or later years. Music itself is in a measure the expression of its time. When counterpoint was regarded as the only medium of music, the opera itself was stiffened by its contrapuntal dress, and religion could only find vent in a fugue. When the singer waxed arrogant, music existed only for his vain glory. Now we are taught to believe that absolute music, music that does not "paint" or "personate" or follow a "program," is of little account; that unless it puts in clearer light some poetical thought or some determined emotion or natural phenomenon, it is worthless; that music is not merely the vehicle of musical thought, but is rather a means of expressing many ideas that might be better expressed in poetry, in prose, or on the canvas. So the times change and with them the fashions in art of every species. There is then perhaps no greatest composer. Plutarchian comparisons between the men of different centuries are of little avail in determining true values. A man must be judged by the conditions of his own time and compared with the men who worked by his side. And what compositions of Mozart's day, instrumental or operatic, have stood the test of the revenger Time? Even the mighty Gluck with his noble theories and statuesque music has bowed the knee to the younger rival. Figaro and Papageno and the dissolute Don Juan Tenorio y Salazar live to-day upon the stage; they are as familiar as the characters of the Old Testament; as Robinson Crusoe or Don Quixote; they are immortalized by the genius of the music-maker of Vienna. It may be said without exaggeration that no composer began his work with such a natural endowment; that Nature created him the greatest musician. His dear friend Haydn, a man not given to vain compliments, a man of hard sense, declared that posterity would not see such talent as his for the next hundred years. And Rossini at the height of his glory, conscious of his own prodigious natural gifts, pronounced the final judgment so far as this century is concerned: "He is the greatest, he is the master of us all. He is the only one whose genius was as great as his knowledge, and whose knowledge equalled his genius."

LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN

The town of Louvain, in Belgium, is now a dull place, with a Hôtel de Ville, Gothic church, detestable beer, and about 34,000 inhabitants. In the 14th century it was the capital of the Duchy of Brabant, the residence of the princes, the home of 2,000 manufactories. Near this city, whose ruin was wrought by turbulent weavers, are villages called Rotselaer, Leefdæl, and Berthem; and in the 16th century people by the name of Van Beethoven were found in these same villages or hard by. If Léon de Burbure's researches are not in vain, these Van Beethovens were simple Flemish peasants, who ate beans during the week, and on a Sunday welcomed the sight of bacon. _Van_ is not in Dutch a sign of nobility. Nor was the spelling of the name invariable. It was Biethoven, Biethoffen, Bethof, Betthoven; and there were other variations.

About 1650 one of these farmers grew weary of the smell of fresh earth and the life with the beasts of the field, and he entered into Antwerp to make his fortune. There he married, begot a son, and named him Guillaume; and Guillaume was the great-great-grandfather of the composer of the Nine Symphonies. Guillaume, or Wilhelm, grew up, trafficked in wines, was apparently a man of parts, and was held in esteem. He married Catherine Grandjean. He named one of his eight children Henri-Adélard, and this Henri, the godson of the Baron de Rocquigny, became a prominent tailor, and wedded Catherine de Herdt, by whom he had a dozen children. The third, a son, was baptized Dec. 23, 1712, and his name was Louis. Louis was brought up in the Antwerp choirs, and there seems to be no doubt that he received a thorough musical education. His father, Henri, a year after the birth of Louis, fell into poverty, and it is probable that the boy, following the fortunes of some choir-master, lived for a time at Ghent. In 1731 he was a singer in Louvain. In 1733 he was named a musician of the court of the Elector of Cologne at Bonn. His salary was fixed at about $160, and he married, in September, 1733, Maria Josepha Poll, aged nineteen. Louis, or Ludwig, prospered. He rose from "Musicus" to "Herr Kapellmeister." Maria, his wife, with increasing good fortune and the addition of a wine shop to music lessons, took to drink, and died in 1775 in a convent at Cologne. Johann, their son, born towards the end of 1739 or in the beginning of 1740, inherited her thirst. He sang tenor and received his appointment as court singer March 27, 1756. For thirteen years he had served without pay as soprano, contralto, and tenor, and in 1764 he was granted one hundred thalers by Maximilian Friedrich, who had succeeded Clemens August as Elector. In 1767 he married Maria Magdalena Kewerich, the widow of Johann Laym, a valet. Maria was the daughter of a head cook, nineteen, comely, slender, soft-hearted. Old Ludwig objected to the match on account of the low social position of the woman. The young couple lived in the house No. 515 in the Bonngasse. Ludwig Maria was born in 1769 and lived six days. Ludwig, the great composer, was baptized the 17th of December, 1770, and he was probably born the day before the baptism. Of the five children born afterward, only Caspar Anton (1774-1815) and Nikolaus Johann (1776-1848) grew up. A brother, August, lived two years; a sister, Anna, four days, and Maria Margaretha about a year.

The seat of the electoral government of Cologne was transferred in 1257 from Cologne to Bonn. The ecclesiastical principality was a source of large revenue to the Elector, and his income was derived from rights of excise and navigation, church dues, benefits of games and lotteries, and secret sums paid the Elector by Austria and France for serving their interests. The Elector was also powerful in politics, and he had the privilege of putting Charlemagne's crown on the head of the emperor at Aix-la-Chapelle. The founder of the musical organization in Bonn was Joseph Clemens, ugly, humpbacked, witty, fond of practical jokes, music-mad. He was continually chasing after artists of merit. He introduced French and Flemish musicians. In 1722 the state of the electoral music-chapel was as follows: a director-in-chief of singing, and two concert-masters; six musicians who were sub-chiefs, organists, etc.; twelve singers, men and women, and to them must be added choir boys, and assistants chosen from the domestics of the court; seventeen players of stringed instruments; four trumpets, two horns and two drums; six players of oboes and bassoons. Joseph died in 1724. Clemens August succeeded him, and shared his musical taste. He in turn was followed in 1761 by Maximilian Friedrich, whose habits were sumptuous; but his prime minister cut down the expenses. He dismissed comedians, lessened the number of concerts, and so the Beethoven family suffered in pocket.

The death of the first grandchild healed the breach between old Ludwig and Johann. The old man died in 1773, but his grandson Ludwig remembered him and preserved his portrait painted by Radoux to the day of his own death. Dressed in court costume and wrapped in a red cloak, with great and sparkling eyes, he made an indelible impression on the three-year-old boy, as on his neighbors, who respected and admired him. It was his father who first taught Ludwig the rudiments of his art. It is said, and the reports are unanimous, that when the boy was hardly four years old, he was obliged to practise for hours on the pianoforte, and was often urged by blows. He was soon put under the instruction of Tobias Pfeiffer, the tenor of a strolling company. Pfeiffer was a good musician and a man of unquenchable thirst. Johann and he would spend hours in the tavern; and Pfeiffer, suddenly remembering that his pupil had received no lesson that day, would return home, drag him from his bed, and keep him at the instrument until daybreak. Or, locked in a room, young Ludwig practised the violin, and he was kept there until he had finished the daily allotted task. At the primary school he learned to read, write, and reckon. Before he was thirteen, his father declared that his scholastic education was finished. This limited education was a source of mortification to Beethoven throughout his life, and no doubt influenced strongly his character. He spelled atrociously, he was never sure of the proper expression, and the washerwoman disputed angrily his addition and subtraction.

After the death of the grandfather poverty entered the house. The second-hand buyer became the warm friend of the family, and the household furniture fed Johann's appetite. In response to a singular petition of the tenor, a pension of sixty thalers was granted to the poor woman in the convent at Cologne, who died a few months after it was given to her. Beethoven's patient mother was always sewing and mending, and the baker at least was paid. Meanwhile Johann meditated over his cups the possibility of fortune gained by his son. Pfeiffer left Bonn. The boy took a few lessons of Van den Eeden. They were gratuitous; the teacher was old and infirm; and Neefe, who succeeded Van den Eeden, took charge of Ludwig and gave him his first instruction in composition. Neefe was an excellent musician. The son of a tailor, he first studied law, and gained the title of "Doctor" by his thesis "A father has no right to disinherit his son because the latter has turned opera-singer." Now Neefe left on record a description of Ludwig at the age of eleven, which was published in Cramer's Music Magazine. According to him Beethoven played the pianoforte with "energetic skill." He played "fluently" Bach's "Well-tempered Clavichord." "To encourage him he had nine variations which the child wrote on a march theme engraved at Mannheim. This young genius deserves a subsidy that he may travel. If he goes on as he has begun, he will certainly be a second Mozart." Years after, Beethoven acknowledged gladly his many obligations to this master. In 1782 Neefe went to Munster for a visit, and Ludwig, then eleven years and a half old, took his place at the organ. In the following year he was promoted to the position of _maestro al cembalo_, i.e., he assisted at operatic rehearsals and played the pianoforte at the performances. During these years, operas by Grétry, Piccini, Cimarosa, Guglielmi, Sácchini, Sarti, Monsigny, Gluck, and Mozart were given. According to the recollections of those who then knew him, he was sombre, melancholy. He did not enter into the sports of his age. Once a year he assisted in the celebration of the birthday of his mother. There was music, there was drinking, and there was eating; there was dancing in stockings, so that the neighbors might not be disturbed.

In 1783, Beethoven published the first three sonatas, dedicated to the Elector. A year after, he was named second-organist, through the intervention of Neefe and Count Salm, but "without appointments." Maximilian died in 1784, and Maximilian of Austria, the brother of Marie Antoinette, ruled in his stead. He at once began the work of reforming the court-music. In a record of the day, Johann is spoken of as a worn-out singer, "but he has been long in service and is very poor." Ludwig is referred to as a possible successor to Neefe, and they could secure him for about $60 a year. "He is poor, very young, and the son of a court musician." In July, 1784, Ludwig was awarded a salary of $60, although Neefe was not removed; and at the installation of the new Elector in 1785, the boy, in court dress with sword at side, was permitted to kiss the hands of his august master.