Introduction to the Concert

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

BORN : January 27, 1756, in Salzburg, Austria

DIED: December 5, 1791, in Vienna

“GOD WAS SINGING through this little man to all the world... conferring on all who sat there perfect absolution.”

So says the fictionalized version of composer Antonio Salieri in the film Amadeus, as he rhapsodizes over the perfection of Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro, in which every note exists in something akin to a God-conferred rightness. The real-life Mozart would have probably been incredulous over that idealized portrait. In the frantic, fluid world of 18th-century opera in Vienna, Mozart often wedded earth-bound pragmatism and divine inspiration. For example, he once extensively adjusted his vocal lines for a beloved diva who was recovering from a vocal crisis, and rewrote one of his most sublime arias to showcase a less-beloved diva who had specific vocal tricks to be displayed.

Mozart was a team player, collaborating with his supposed archrival Salieri, swapping arias in and out of operas and making sense of a musical patchwork by multiple authors. One such instance is the opera La Quakera Spiritosa by nowforgotten Pietro Alessandro Guglielmi: It included a rondo aria by the semiforgotten Domenico Cimarosa, preceded by what is believed to be a Mozartauthored recitative minted to meld Cimarosa more smoothly with Guglielmi, according to University of Georgia musicologist Dorothea Link.

That world, glimpsed in the works presented in this concert’s first half, is almost a “Wild West” in contrast to the second half, whose Symphony No. 41 (K. 551) corresponds to the more idealized image of Mozart. Nicknamed “Jupiter,” it was the last of his great symphonic trilogy composed in 1788, and shows the composer going beyond what seemed possible of musical conventions of the day and answering to no one. Written for an occasion that apparently evaporated, this towering masterwork had no clearly documented performances until after Mozart’s death. Even the posthumous premiere is unknown, though by the end of the 18th century, the symphony was assuming its rightful place in the canon.

Overture to La Clemenza di Tito, K. 621

Ω COMPOSED : 1791

Ω ORCHESTRATION: 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, timpani, and strings

THE MUSIC ON THE FIRST HALF may not have achieved the same rarified status as the “Jupiter” Symphony, but it offers plenty of charm as well as insight into Mozart’s ability to produce under more extreme circumstances. Legend suggests that Mozart wrote La Clemenza di Tito (K. 621) in 18 days for the 1791 Prague coronation of Leopold II as King of Bohemia. At that time, Mozart’s schedule was full with The Magic Flute (not yet finished), but his pocketbook was empty. It’s believed that Mozart received twice the payment he would normally get in Vienna, and he is also said to have worked on the opera in the carriage from Vienna to Prague.

This least-performed of Mozart’s mature stage works, La Clemenza di Tito had great political implications, reaffirming the purpose of aristocracy at a time when revolution had been raging in France since 1789. Set in ancient Rome in 79 AD, the first act ends with the burning of the capitol before Tito is restored to power and grants clemency to those who plotted against him. The dissonances heard in the overture, which opens this weekend’s concerts, not only create the kind of tension that accommodates such a plot, but also look forward to the Dies Irae of the Requiem, a reminder that the composer’s music wasn’t just about symmetry, harmony, and perfection.

Giunse alfin il momento…

Al desio di chi t’adora, K. 577

Ω COMPOSED : 1789

Ω ORCHESTRATION: 2 basset horns, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, and strings

WE KNOW ONLY BITS about the divas who first sang many of Mozart’s soul-searching arias; they have come down to us in portraiture that implies that they navigated the world in extravagant hats and diaphanous dresses. In fact, they had complicated names, shadowy backgrounds, and migratory lives that are difficult to track through marriages and ever-changing stage names. Some had major careers beginning in their late teenage years, but also perilous lives in which their voices were subject to the health and travel conditions at that time. The savvier ones knew when to take up residence in a particular opera capital but also when to leave.

What, or who, possessed Mozart to write for a soprano range that reaches the heights and depths of “Come scoglio” from Così fan tutte? The answer is Adriana Ferrarese del Bene (c. 1755 – c. 1804).

Mozart didn’t care for her much, and may have been playing a dirty trick on her with the aria “Come scoglio,” with its dramatic leaps that caused her, in the words of one onlooker, to throw her head back “like a chicken.” Echoes of her vocal handiwork — though in less extreme form —  are also heard in the aria “Al desio,” the first vocal work on the program. This aria was written especially for Ferranese del Bene’s portrayal of Susanna in the 1789 revival of The Marriage of Figaro. The recitative leading into the Act IV aria —  “Giunse alfin il momento” — remained the same as in the 1786 premiere, but Mozart replaced the original aria “Deh vieni, non tardar,” with the newly composed “Al desio.” The new lyrics from the masterful librettist Lorenzo da Ponte express, “to the open arms of one who adores you, come quickly.” This second version inspires the “absolution” the fictional Salieri speaks about. Nowadays, it is almost exclusively heard in concert. It also has a higher and lower range than the original, though without the Così-like acrobatics. Clearly, Mozart was interested in preserving something of the moonlightbathed serenity of the original.