by Stephen Fry
And not just one piece. It seems the darker Mozart's days become, the richer and more creative his works become. The 40th Symphony, Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, the ''Jupiter' Symphony. The 40th Symphony is a million miles away from the way most people know it now. I may be wrong, here, but I would imagine that, statistically, more people know the Mozart's 40th because it is one of the most popular mobile phone ring tones. But the shrill, electronic buzz of a mobile is light years from the gloomy and almost morose masterpiece of 1788. Contrast that with the fun, almost throwaway, feel of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, another bit of background music, designed not really to be heard. It's testament to Mozart's genius, really, that something so light and fluffy is still so jam-packed full of melodic, creative invention. And his last symphony, the 'Jupiter'. Not his nickname, unfortunately, but probably something added forty or so years later by people impressed by its jollity - that's what Jupiter is the bringcr of, remember. This is seen by many as the ultimate classical symphi»nv its finest hour. And, somewhat ironically, the last movement sees Mozart playing with all manner of devices to weave between no fewer than six full themes. It's as if he's saying, 'Look what I can do. Bach might have been able to interweave acres of themes, and invert them and "canon" them, well, so can I!'
So that's 1788. In addition to those three works of sheer gorgeousnesslessness, there was also the Clarinet Quintet in A, written for his friend, Anton Stadler, the principal clarinet player with the Imperial Court Orchestra of Vienna. Despite the fact that Stadler was a bit of a jack the lad, often landing an already impecunious Mozart in further financial hardship, Amadeus provided him, here, with one of the greatest slow movements ever written for the clarinet. Surely he would never top this, in terms of clarinet writing? Well, don't speak too soon. In the end, this undeniably beautiful piece for clarinet proves to be hardly more than a dry run.
JUST GONE HALF SIX
1731. Where are we? Where is the world? Where is the love? Let's try and answer at least two of those questions. I think it's fair to say that the heady smoke of revolution still hangs in the air like a heady smoke of revolution. It seems to be happening everywhere. America has done it - George Washington is in his second year as president. France has done it - Louis XVI desperately putting off that haircut. Even the Austrian Netherlands has done it - gone and got themselves independence just over a year ago and called themselves… called themselves… hang on a minute, I wrote it down somewhere. Here we are. Belgium. Belgium? Oh, well, fair enough. Takes all sorts. What else? The big book of the year is Boswell's The Life of Johnson, sitting alongside last year's blockbuster, Tarn oy Shanter, by the Scottish Jew, Rabbi Burns. Musically, though, it's still Mozart's world. He really is the big thing in music, at the moment. Has been for ages - but it won't last. Gone, now, are the days of trekking around Europe. Gone are those awful days, as described in his diaries: fa ike i»pukt Yes, all long gone. Mozart, now, is the greatest thing to happen to music since someone burnt the blueprints of the banjo. But he's near-ing the end. His fifth child, Anna Maria, was born this year, but lived only one hour - just how did they take this level of tragedy, year in, year out? Not just Mozart, either, it was everyone. I don't know how they did it. As far as Mozart is concerned, he could always sink himself further and further into his music.
And he did. It's a bit of a cliche but it appears to be true - at times of real pits of despair, composers of real greatness came up with some of their best material. And never was this more true of Mozart himself than in 1791, the year he died.
For a start, there's The Magic Flute; a remarkable opera, no matter which way you look at it, but even more so when you look at it in the light of his final year. He wasn't well, he wasn't in the best financial state, his children were dying around him, so what does he do? He writes a pantomime. (Oh no he doesn't!) Die Zauberflote, to give it its German name, is a weird, Brian-Rix-farce of an opera, a mix of frivolous comedy, fairy tale and Masonic symbolism - Mozart was a long-term member of his local Masonic lodge and had even persuaded his late father to enrol too. There are some lovely musical moments, though, including the Birdcatcher's aria, the fantastic tenor aria 'O zittre nicht', and the amazing dramatic creation that is the Queen of the Night - a part originally written specifically for Mozart's sister-in-law who could reach a glass-breakingly brilliant top F. Unfortunately it is often attempted by much lesser mortals who are a few ledger lines short of a full si.ive. With The Magic Flute, Mozart's 'Fantastic Four' was complete. Fantastic Four operas, that is. They are: The Marriage of Figaro (Mr Fantastic), a comic opera with one of the best overtures EVER, as well as the beautiful aria 'Dove sono'; Don Giovanni (The Human Torch), a mix of fun and sinister tragedy, which ends with the anti-hero consumed by the flames of hell, but not before he's sung the rather saucy 'La ci darem la mano'; Cost fan Tutte (The Invisible Woman), a romantic comedy which, were it composed today, would have to star Hugh Grant; it contains the mind-bendingly gorgeous trio 'Soave sia il vento'; and, of course, The Magic Flute (The Thing).
The 'True' Yin to this 'Magic' Yang from 1791 is the sublime miniature choral piece which he finished in June, the Ave Verum Corpus. It's only a few minutes long, but every second is divine. These two pieces really were, with no disrespect to Mozart whatsoever, the ridiculous and the sublime of his last year.
If that weren't enough, there's the can't-find-a-word-good-enough Clarinet Concerto, which he wrote for his friend Anton, again. Two stunning outer movements that are tricky enough to play nowadays, on a modern clarinet, let alone on the one that was around then, which had just six keys. Nestled in between these two is Mozart's divine musical extrapolation of the phrase 'less is more' - the slow movement from Heaven. One often hears the platitude that 'the simple tunes are the best' but nowhere is this more intelligently proven than in the slow movement of the Clarinet Concerto. A tune that just seems to get more compelling each time you hear it.
And so the year is almost out, and with it, the age of Mozart. The world will never see his like again. A twenty-one-year-old Beethoven is yet to produce his first big works. Elsewhere, Haydn is still around. Despite being nearly a quarter of a century older, he will outlive Mozart by a good eighteen years. In fact, not for him the melancholia that infected Mozart's music of 1791 - his major work of the year is the Surprise Symphony, a jolly little wheeze designed to keep the Esterhazy audience awake, by sounding a huge chord just when they least expected it. 'With hilarious consequences', as the TV listings might say. Gosh, Haydn, you wag - how we all laughed!
Mozart, though, doesn't seem to be laughing. The well-documented story of the dark stranger who totally spooked him by coming to his door and commissioning a Requiem is true. It did happen, but it wasn't, as many have surmised, the Grim Reaper himself. Odd, that. Instead, it turns out it was Count Von Walsegg's cleaner. Walsegg was a local big cheese who did want to commission a Requiem, for his wife. Mozart duly started on it. Elsewhere, Louis XVI tried and failed to escape the Parisian mob, Goethe gets the top job at the Weimar Court Theatre, and a brand-new paper, the Observer, reports that William Wilberforce's bill to abolish slavery has been passed. All big stuff in 1791, but all of no interest to old Wolfgang. His last surviving letter was written in October and seems fairly upbeat. He'd been to see The Magic Flute performed at the Freihaus Theatre in Vienna, and was chuffed that his arch rival, the composer Salieri, shouted 'Bravo' at virtually every aria. The week before, he's even written about how he had played a joke on the conductor by playing the offstage glockenspiel part wrongly. But, just a month later, he took to his bed. And some two weeks after that, on the 5th of December, at five minutes to one in the morning, he died. One minute's silence, please. 123456789 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60/ amp; This is one of only two times where this book will observe a minute V ulrtue And, well… He's gone. So. What now?
Well, looking back, first, to the Clarinet Concert
o. It's possible to hear it as merely the beautiful work it is - a delicious slow movement surrounded by two brisk allegros which really throw the clarinet about a bit. But, if you set this piece in its context, then it's almost as if you hear a different work altogether, particularly the middle movement. What was before a simple, elegant and beautiful tune suddenly becomes melancholic and plaintive, almost a lament, and yet, where once was elegance, there is still a retained sense of dignity.
It's the piece he wrote only a couple of months before he died and it's one, now that I know the circumstances, that I will never hear in the same way again.
When he died, the romantic legend says that he was a pauper. I've always taken this to mean that there was no money for funeral arrangements, no money left to his widow and family, and generally that he was whisked off, at dead of night, to an unmarked grave. Well, certainly, the last part appears to be true - nobody quite knows where Mozart lies. You can narrow it down to a cemetery - St Marx's in Vienna - but as for which plot contains the remains of probably the greatest composer the world has ever seen, nobody knows. But as for the rest of it, well, it appears Constanze was more than able to pay the 4 florins and 36 krone in parish fees, as well as the 4 florins 20 krone in church fees and even the 3 gulden to take the composer's corpse from St Stephen's Cathedral to the cemetery. Admittedly, this was what was termed at the time 'a third-class' funeral, but to say he was penniless is more than slighdy misleading. In fact, there's no better confirmation of this fact than the list of the contents of his wardrobe on his death. This reads less like the last rags of a pauper and more like a TV presenter describing the guests going into one of Elton John's parties: 1 frock coat of cloth, with Manchester waistcoat 1 blue, ditto 1 red, ditto 1, ditto, of nankeen 1 brown satin, ditto, together with breeches, embroidered with silk 1 black cloth whole suit 1 mouse colour great coat 1 ditto of lighter material 1 blue frock coat with fur 1 ditto with fur trimming 4 various waistcoats, 9 various breeches, 2 plain hats, 3 pairs of boots, 3 pairs of shoes 9 silk stockings 9 shirts 4 white neckerchiefs, 1 nightcap, 18 handkerchiefs 8 underdrawers, 2 nightgowns, 5 further pairs of stockings Mmm. Pauper, indeed. I think generations of us have been more than happy to believe a stylized romantic version of events, rather than the actual true picture.
Anyway, no matter. It's all over now. We've witnessed Mozart's last symphony, his last opera, and, of course, his last breath. The great one has gone. Amadeus - literally 'loved by the gods'. The world will never see his like again. So what now? Where are we? Who's still around? And what's happening out there in that rather gory collection of wars they call a world? Well, let's see if we can't find out.
THE RATHER GORY
COLLECTION OF WARS
THEY CALLED A WORLD: 1796
I'm going to move on some five years from Mozart's death to 1796, but before I do, let me just try and fill in the gap.
To live in these times is to know the meaning of the word 'revolution' if, admittedly, not always its spelling. Revolution is everywhere -Marc Bolan would have loved it. Republit s,?» Republics are the new black. Everybody's wants one. Just as, according to the great philosopher, Sir James Savile, the early 1970s was the age of the train, so this is the age of the Republic. The French Republic, Roman Republic, Lemanic Republic, the… the… the… Helvetian Republic, the Cisalpine Republic… all of them… genuine, 100 per cent kosher republics.
M. Rouget de Lisle's big hit of 1792, 'La Marseillaise', is still popular, although the Commune of Paris has been and gone, and with it some of the leading lights of the particularly French brand of Revolution - the heads of Danton, Desmoulins, Robespierre - all of them, alongside Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, getting to know what it feels like to be a chicken-in-the-basket supper.
And wars - where are we with them? Well, France has been and gone to war with Prussia and Austria… er, oh and Sardinia. Well, why not, eh? If it moves, declare war on it, that's what I say. In turn, the Holy Roman Empire has declared war on France, and Spain has just this minute declared war on Great Britain, and not before time, too, clearly, Spain! Lagging behind a bit on the old… 'war declaring' front, Spain. See me afterwards. France are, then, current holders of the Jules Rimet Trophy for Services to War, having just this year - 1796 remember - won wars against Italy, Austria, Worthing© and Milan. Actually, not sure of my notes, there, on Worthing.
In the more or less non-violent world, things are coming on in leaps and bounds. We've had the new book by the Marquis de Sade, rather racily entitled The Philosophy of the Bedroom. I can't think what that's about. Also, the first gas lights have gone on in England, Joshua Reynolds's light has gone out, and someone travelling«just near New Zealand has inadvertently discovered the… wait a minute, what are they called…
… the Kermadec Islands. Mmm.
Yes, I think that was the reaction then, too. Strangely enough, no one goes to war over them. Moving on, Jenner has developed the first smallpox vaccine and someone has sent the first ever telegraph - from Paris to Lille, in fact. The wedding of the year has got to have been that of Napoleon Bonaparte to Josephine de Beauharnais - she of'not tonight' fame.
But musically, where are we? Who's the ageing Status Quo type, who's the youthful S Club Seven-ers? Well, the smart money is on a twenty-six-year-old Beethoven to come up with something fantastic following last year's impressive Opus 1, Three Piano Trios. Would he be a U2 or a Sigue Sigue Sputnik? Also still there, keeping on keeping on, as it were, is his teacher, Haydn. Old Franz Josef may be starring in ads for stair lifts, but he can still knock out a tune with the best of them.
When we left him, Haydn was as happy as a sandboy, coining it in at the Esterhazy Palace, composing his head off and having his meals cooked. But, ohhhh, how his situation has changed in the last twenty years! How? Well, not at all, in fact, apart from maybe he is earning even more money now. He is still in the employ of the Esterhazy Bunch but, by now, his original boss has died. In the true 'jammy devil' style that seemed to stay with Haydn all his life, when the entire orchestra and choir were disbanded and sacked - because his new boss was not particularly into it - he himself was kept on, with an increased salary. As a result, with a salary and no job, he decided to travel. An enterprising type called Salomon booked him to tour London, where he was feted as a bit of a living legend, making a small fortune in the process.
If it helps, just think of how Tom Jones's career had that wonderful turnaround, not too long ago, when he suddenly found himself all trendy again, with his name coming on some rather 'hip' records, very often after the word 'featuring' - Catatonia featuring Tom Jones, White Stripes featuring Tom Jones, Peters and Lee© featuring Tom Jones. Well, so it was with Haydn. London had been fantastic - the audiences couldn't get enough of him: encores galore, special 'London symphonies' written, knickers being thrown from the audience - actually, no, that was Tom Jones. Anyhow, Haydn returned to his palace digs with a small fortune in his pocket only to discover there had been a change of management at Eisenstadt. Gone was Paul Anton, who preferred paintings to music - and in had come the new Prince Nicholas II. He revived the old Haydn court orchestra - maybe not quite to the level it had been under Nicholas I, but still, enough to cash in on the new Haydn vogue. And in this orchestra was a sexy new trumpeter, name of Anton Weidlinger, who was not only a fantastic, virtuoso player, but also a bit of a Caractacus Potts. Weidlinger had invented himself a thing called the 'keyed trumpet' - far too complicated to go into here, suffice to say it allowed you to play faster than the trumpet had ever played before. So Haydn, in the year of Our Lord 1796, duly wrote him a piece, full of the flashy new things that only Weidlinger's trumpet could do.
Unfortunately for Weidlinger, his 'keyed trumpet' became the Betamax of the trumpet world, beaten by the valve system. But Haydn's Trumpet Concerto in Eflat has weathered every storm and is still considered a good test of even a modern-day trumpeter, particularly the last movement, which goes to show that Weidlinger himself must have" been a pretty brilli
ant bugler to manage it. There are so many versions of this piece around today - on old trumpets, on new trumpets, on 'natural' trumpets/ slow versions, quick versions, underwater versions©, recordings using Haydn's solos, recordings using performers' own specially-written solos - I think it's fair to say there's a recording out there for everyone. Personally, I love the modern, take-no-prisoners sound of Wynton Marsalis. Every time I hear him play it, it makes me realize that this is music that simply couldn't have been written any earlier. Well, no, that's not true - it could have been, it's just that no one would have been able to play it, so there wouldn't really have been much point.
VIRTUOSO REALITY
JL
n fact all this talk of virtuosi brings me round to a new theme -virtuosi. Mm, maybe I could have rephrased that. They haven't really been around much until now, to be fair, or at least not in the same way. True, there'd been concertos for ages now, but never with this big emphasis on pushing the performance to the limit, this desire to show 'anything you can do'. And why? Well, mainly because they just couldn't have done it before. I mean, look at Sony Playstation 2 compared with… say, Asteroids. Or Pacman. P Which are basically mis without the buttons on the top - if you wanted to change the note you were playing, you had to do it with your lips.
What do you mean 'What's that got to do with it?' It's got everything to do with it. Technology was moving on, and making lots more things possible. Things that composers would never have tried before were soon going to become the norm. And with this new breed of 'virtuoso' instruments came… well, a new breed of virtuoso players. Remember, we ARE still in the classical period but only just - we're dangling by a semi-quaver. In fact, to be fair, the first of these new virtuoso players was already here, and, boy, was he about to make himself known.
