Mozart and billiards

 

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born in 1756 and died in 1791 at the age of only 35. During his short life he composed a huge number of musical works, many of which are still performed today. However, he also found time for recreation and two of his chief delights were billiards and bowls. Both these games are played today by many people, although the game of billiards is less common than snooker. In Mozart’s day, he would have played by propelling the balls with a pusher rod rather than the modern snooker cue.

There is little doubt that he pursued these games not just their own sake but because he found in the movement and control of a rolling ball congenial accompaniment to the movement within his own copious and productive mind.

There are recorded instances of him stopping in the middle of a game of billiards to make notes, or of him humming, as he played, a theme which was later found in one of his works. It is known that he was particularly fond of playing billiards alone while keeping his notebook handy – although the notes he made were always only the briefest indication of an idea, for he did his actual composing in his head.

The ever-flowing rhythms in his mind induced him incessantly to tap away at the table, a chair-back, or anything to hand, and there is no doubt that he spent some of his most fruitful hours alone at the billiard table.

© John Welford

 

What - or who - killed Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart?

The who question is probably easier to answer than the what. The legend that Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was murdered by his arch-rival Antonio Salieri was born soon after Mozart’s death in December 1791. However, the evidence for this is extremely thin and is countered by the fact that Mozart’s widow Constanze, a few years later, sent their son Franz to Salieri for tutoring, which would surely be highly unlikely if she thought that this was the man who had murdered the boy’s father.

The idea that Mozart was poisoned started doing the rounds very early on, due in part to the sudden decline in his health in November 1791, and also to his having said to Constanze that he feared that he had been given a dose of a poison called Aqua Tofana.

Although Salieri almost certainly had nothing to do with Mozart’s death, there was certainly a keen rivalry between the German and Italian groups of musicians then resident in Vienna. Aqua Tofana was reputed to be a tasteless and colourless blend of arsenic, lead and belladonna that had been invented in Palermo, Italy, by a certain Guilia Tofana. However, there is no evidence that such a thing ever existed other than as an urban myth.

Another form of poisoning could have been straight arsenic, but there is a problem there in that a single lethal dose would have led to a rapid as opposed to a lingering death, and a succession of smaller doses would have required the poisoner to have regular access to the victim. In Mozart’s case, that would have meant either Constanze or his doctor. Neither of them seem likely candidates for wanting Mozart to die.

Mozart’s final days were certainly unpleasant. He had suffered from a variety of ailments during his later years, including syphilis, typhoid, bronchitis, rheumatic fever and pneumonia. His symptoms towards the end included a high fever, sweating, nausea and incontinence. After two weeks of getting weaker he lapsed into a coma before dying.

What could have brought on this collapse if not poison? Maybe it was a less sensational form of poisoning, namely food poisoning. Mozart was fond of eating pork and he could easily have eaten a piece of badly cooked pork that harboured the trichinella worm. This can cause an infection called trichinosis, the symptoms of which are very similar to those suffered by Mozart.

Whatever the cause, the world was robbed of one of the greatest musical geniuses who ever lived, at the age of only 35. Who can tell what he might have produced had his life been considerably longer?

 © John Welford

Mozart`s Requiem and a wily Count

The final work by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, his Requiem in D Minor composed in 1791, is widely regarded as being among his finest, despite the fact that it was left incomplete at his death.

Mozart only completed the Introit and Kyrie, although he had done enough work on most of the other sections for them to be completed by his pupil Franz Xaver Sussmayr, who also wrote the Sanctus, Benedictus and Agnus Dei based on little more than general ideas gleaned from conversations with Mozart.

Stories have arisen over the years concerning the reasons behind Mozart writing this work. Some have wondered if Mozart knew that he was dying and that he was writing the work as his own Requiem.

However, it is generally accepted that Mozart was working to a commission brought to him by a messenger who refused to tell him who the message was from. All Mozart knew was that he would be paid well and that the Requiem was to commemorate the loss of a loved one.

It is now known that the commissioner was Count Franz von Walsegg and that the loved one was his wife Anna, who had died not long before.

But why the secrecy? This was because the Count was a bit of a con-artist. He like to pretend that he was a great composer who would have works played in his own home that he claimed to have written himself although this was never the case. It says something about his character that he would even play this game when the work was a Requiem for his own dead wife.

As it happened, Count Franz did not get away with it on this occasion. By the time that the completed work was delivered to him and he was able to get it performed at his home it had already been performed in public – the completed parts were heard only five days after Mozart’s death at a memorial service for the composer, and the whole Requiem was performed in Vienna at a benefit concert for Mozart’s widow Constanze.

At least Count Franz was honest enough to pay the agreed fee for the work. That was the reason why cash-strapped Constanze had been so keen to get Sussmayr to finish what her husband had started. Music lovers ever since have had cause to be grateful to all those concerned, including the rascally Count Franz.

© John Welford

The Magic Flute, by W A Mozart: a summary of the plot

This was Mozart's final opera, receiving its premiere only three months before his death in December 1791. It is an allegorical fantasy, full of fairy story elements and also references to Freemasonry. Mozart and the librettist, Emanuel Schickaneder, were members of the same Masonic lodge.

The music of the opera is notable both for its extreme difficulty and its simplicity. The librettist was also an amateur singer for whom the part of Papageno was written, so his music is notable for having all the lines stated by the orchestra in advance, so that he could find his pitch. However, the part of the Queen of the Night was sung by a soprano of the highest musical ability, as is evident from her famous aria "Hell's vengeance boils in my heart" which is generally regarded as one of the most difficult in all opera. It was famously mangled by Florence Foster Jenkins (1868-1944), who thought she could sing, but couldn't, which didn't stop her from proving the point to thousands at the Carnegie Hall and elsewhere. 

However, back to the plot. This was originally written in two acts, but the opera has also been performed in four. As it is easier to take it all in as a four-acter, here we go:


Act 1. A Forest. (This is supposed to be Egypt, which is not renowned for the denseness of its forests)

Prince Tamino has lost his way, and is being pursued by a giant serpent (suspend your disbelief NOW!). His cries bring three fairies to his aid, who promptly slay the serpent with their spears. A strange being now enters - a man clad in birds' feathers. This is Papageno, who claims that this is by far the best way to catch birds. He also claims that it was he who slew the serpent. The fairies will have none of this and fasten a padlock on his lips to punish him for telling porkies.

They also show the prince a picture of the beautiful maiden Pamina, who is being held captive by Sarastro at the Temple of Isis. Right on cue, Pamina's mother, the Queen of the Night, enters and calls on Tamino to rescue the girl. As is always the case on these occasions, he agrees, and is given a magic flute that will protect him from danger. Papageno is to accompany him, and he is given a chime of bells in place of the padlock.

Act II. Scene 1. The Palace of Sarastro 

Monastatos, a moor, has been annoying Pamina with his attentions and is about to make off with her when Papageno arrives to announce the coming of the prince. Pamina makes ready to escape with them.


Scene 2. Entrance to the Temple

The Temple of Isis has three doors. At two of them Tamino is denied entry, but at the third a priest appears and tells him that he is all wrong about Sarastro, who is really the good guy; it's Pamina's mother, who is a sorceress, that he should be worried about. Pamina and Papageno now appear, but Monastatos prevents their escape. Sarastro enters, hears the story so far, and orders that Monastatos be punished. He greets Tamino who, naturally enough, has fallen in love with Pamina, but tells him that he must prove his worth by undergoing a series of ordeals.


Act III. Scene 1. A Palm Grove

The temple priests meet to consider the case of the two lovers and agree that they can be united if Tamino passes the tests he is about to face.


Scene 2. A Courtyard

The first ordeal is that neither Tamino nor Papageno must speak. Three attendants of the Queen of the Night appear and try to tempt them, but they hold firm, although this is a struggle for Papageno.


Scene 3. A Garden

Pamina is asleep and is approached by Monastatos, but he hides himself when the Queen of the Night enters and hands Pamina a dagger, which she is commanded to use to kill Sarastro. When the Queen goes, Monastatos threatens Pamina but is foiled when Sarastro appears.


Scene 4. A Corridor in the Temple

The ordeal of silence becomes too much for Papageno, but Tamino stays silent even when Pamina whispers sweet nothings to him. She is somewhat put out when he refuses to reply.


Act IV. Scene 1. The Pyramids

For his next ordeal, the prince is commanded to wander off into the desert, leaving Pamina behind. Papageno wishes that he had a girlfriend too, at which an old hag appears who turns into the young and pretty Papagena. However, he must also prove himself to be worthy before she can be his.


Scene 2. The Desert

Pamina believes that the prince has been faithless to her, by not speaking and then wandering off, and is about to kill herself with her mother's dagger when she is prevented by the temple servants. Papageno is also distraught that Papagena has disappeared, but happiness returns when he discovers that ringing his chime of bells brings her back.


Scene 3. A Fiery Cavern

For the last of his ordeals, Tamino is menaced by waterfalls and tongues of flame, beyond which he can see Pamina. He calls to her, his lips now being unsealed, and the lovers are reunited. A few notes from the flute cause all the remaining dangers to vanish.


Scene 4. The Temple of Isis

Sarastro welcomes the prince and the maiden and joins their hands. Papageno and Papagena also make a lovely couple, while the Queen of the Night and her servant the moor (who would have guessed it?) are vanquished.

© John Welford

Cosi Fan Tutte, by W A Mozart: a summary of the plot

Mozart cannot be held totally responsible for the absurdities of the plot of this delightful "chamber opera", because the libretto was the work of Lorenzo Da Ponte, an interesting character in his own right; he was an Italian Jew who converted to Catholicism, changed his name, moved to Vienna, and ended his days in New York as a naturalised American. Cosi Fan Tutte, which appears to have come from nowhere but Da Ponte's own head, has caused justifiable angst in modern times, with its suggestion that women are fickle and easily led astray.

Act 1. Various locations in Naples

Guglielmo and Fernando are two army officers who are madly in love with two sisters, Fiordiligi and Dorabella, and they are firmly convinced that their passion is reciprocated by the ladies in question. Their acquaintance Don Alfonso, an older, wordly-wise man, questions their confidence and lays a bet that the girlfriends would turn their affections elsewhere given half a chance, not because of who they are but merely because they are women. The men agree to allow Don Alfonso two days to prove his point, if he can.

Don Alfonso visits the sisters and tells them that the soldiers have been called away on army duties and must leave immediately. The couples meet and say their farewells, with many assurances of everlasting fidelity, to the grim amusement of Don Alfonso.

The Don has recruited Despina, the maid of the two sisters, into the plot, and she now announces that two foreign gentlemen have turned up and wish to be introduced to them. Having had just enough time for a quick offstage change and the slapping on of unlikely facial hair, the men now appear as a pair of Albanians to pay court to the sisters. Apparently falling deeply in love with their hostesses at first sight, the men are rebuffed and pretend to take poison. Despina, now disguised as a doctor, rushes onstage to restore them to life.

Act 2. The next day

The thwarted "Albanians" don't let up, and soon find that they are making headway, with the two soldiers paying court to each other's real-life girlfriend. This may of course prove nothing more than that Fiordiligi really wishes that her man was a tenor and not a bass, but no matter. Dorabella even goes so far as to give her new lover a locket containing a portrait of her "former" boyfriend, which seems like a strange thing to do.

You might have thought that the two men who are, after all, wanting to prove Don Alfonso wrong, would back off at this point, but no way! They now demand that a lawyer be produced to draw up marriage contracts. This is speed dating with a vengeance! The lawyer turns out to be Despina in another disguise (she's a soprano, by the way). The contracts are drawn up and a banquet prepared.

At this point Don Alfonso turns up to announce that the brave soldiers are on their way back (it was a very short war) and will arrive at any moment. The "Albanians" clear off and, another quick change later, re-appear as Guglielmo and Fernando, who find that their lovers of only the previous day have been prepared to marry two perfect strangers within 24 hours of their first meeting.

As this is the world of light opera, and not a divorce court, it is no problem to set these little matters to rights, and soon everyone is friends again. The reason for the men not to be angry with the women is, and this is the real clincher, because women can't help themselves from acting in such a way. In the words of the opera's title, Cosi Fan Tutte, "thus do they all"!

Yes, this is an absurd plot that not only makes a morally dubious claim, and the sexist suggestion that men are more constant than women, but is also full of holes if you examine it too closely. To enjoy this opera today you really have to forget about the story and just drink in the music!

© John Welford

Famous composers of the Classical era in music

The term “classical” is often used to mean what might otherwise be called “serious” music, to distinguish it from pop, rock, folk, jazz or any other classification. These terms are never satisfactory, however, and often give rise to confusion.

That said, the term “Classical era in music”, properly defined, only applies to the relatively brief period between the end of the Baroque period (conveniently marked by the death of J S Bach in 1850) and the rise of Romanticism around 1820. Its beginning corresponded with the general rejection of Baroque and Rococo taste throughout Europe and a conscious looking back to the classical models of Ancient Greece and Rome, or at least to how they were imagined to be. This trend could be seen in visual art, furniture design, architecture, literature and much else. In music there were no classical parallels to look back to, so classical music was something quite new and original, although built on what had gone before.

It would also be a mistake to assume that every composer who had been writing in the Baroque style suddenly decided to become “classical”. These things happen gradually, and there were many cases of “overlap”, as there were at the other end of the period when Romanticism started to take hold.

That said, there are three well-known composers who fall squarely within this period and whose works largely typify the classical era in terms of style. These three also qualify for the “famous” label, their names being easily recognisable by most people. They are Joseph Haydn, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Ludwig van Beethoven.

Joseph Haydn (1732-1809)

An Austrian, Haydn was for many years court composer to the Esterhazy family, one of the richest and most powerful families of central Europe. He was required to run the musical establishment of the court, which included producing a constant stream of new compositions for the orchestra to play. As such, Haydn developed the symphony into the form that it has had ever since, writing a total of 106 during his lifetime. He also wrote more than 70 string quartets, more than 60 piano sonatas, and more than 40 piano trios, plus concertos, masses, operas and oratorios.

Not all the above works were composed during his employment with the Esterhazys, because he eventually “escaped” when Prince Nikolaus died in 1790 and his successor, the far less musical Prince Anton, had no need for Haydn’s services. Haydn was then free to travel widely and accept commissions from orchestras all over Europe.

However, the 30 years of isolation that Haydn spent as a court composer on a remote estate meant that, in his own words, he was “forced to be original”. Haydn was able to experiment with forms and ensembles without undue influence from outside, and his later “freedom” enabled him to pass on his knowledge and be a huge influence on his friend Mozart and his pupil Beethoven.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791)

Mozart (pictured above) was the greatest composer of the Classical era, and many would say of any musical era. Although he died at the age of 35 he produced more than 600 compositions, including 41 numbered symphonies, 27 piano concertos, 22 operas, and a host of string quartets, piano sonatas, sacred music, and much else besides.

He started composing at a very young age, with the earliest works credited to him having been written at the age of five or six, and his first symphony when he was only eight. However, these early works are clearly derivative and not of any great quality. That said, it did not take him long to get into his stride, with the exquisite motet “Exsultate, Jubilate” being written in 1773 at the age of 17 (with 164 other compositions already under his belt, according to the Köchel catalogue!). From this point on, Mozart was clearly a fully mature composer with his own distinct and original style.

One of the most important things to note about Mozart is that his originality, and his dominance of the Classical era, makes it very difficult to state what it is that constitutes “Classicism” without reference to Mozart. If we look at other art forms of this era we can distinguish elements that set a particular work in the classical mould, such as a certain formalism or even stiffness of mood. We can see this in the “Augustan” poetry of Alexander Pope or the neo-classical paintings of Jacques-Louis David.

However, there is little sense of looking back, or of reliance on formality, in the works of Mozart, or even of Haydn. Instead there is enormous energy, coupled with great beauty and even humour, in musical classicism.

One of Mozart’s works that makes this point very clearly is his “A Musical Joke” (K.522) written for two horns and string quartet. This piece is most famous for the final three chords that are often played ad lib but are written as deliberate discords, as though the performers are incompetent. However, the whole piece is a satire on the repetitive formalism apparent in the works of contemporary composers who were clearly way below Mozart and Haydn in terms of writing skill. Many of those works are now lost to us, and their composers forgotten, which is why we do not have a complete view today of what the classical era in music was actually like.

Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827)

Beethoven counts as the third classical “great” because he provided the bridge between the Classical and Romantic eras. However, he was another truly original composer who cannot be said to typify either Classicism or Romanticism.

Beethoven was a German (of Dutch descent) who spent much of his life in Vienna. He arrived there in 1792 to study under Haydn, shortly after Mozart had died. The influences of these two composers was therefore considerable, although Beethoven did not start to compose as his main occupation until a year or two later.

His early works, such as the first two symphonies (1800 and 1802) and first six string quartets (1798-1800) clearly show the influence of Haydn and Mozart, but he was soon able to develop a style of his own, as is evident from the major change in direction that is usually described as his “middle period”, from 1803 to 1814.

This largely coincided with the beginning of Beethoven’s deafness, which became progressively worse during the rest of his life, and his coming to terms with this condition. He expressed dissatisfaction with his life and work to date and determined to strike out in new ways. For one thing, he now composed more large-scale works that required much larger orchestral forces than had been gathered to date. This was not only because he needed them to make a louder noise that he could hear, but also because he wanted to say new things through his music that spoke of struggle and the overcoming of forces that kept the human spirit in chains.

It is famously recorded that Beethoven originally intended to dedicate his Third Symphony to Napoleon Bonaparte, whom he regarded at first as a liberating force in Europe, but he changed his mind when Napoleon declared himself to be an Emperor and was therefore only interested in personal power. The symphony itself is regarded as both the ultimate mature expression of Classicism and the first example of Romanticism. As his music developed, it became increasingly used as a vehicle for the expression of emotion and feeling. This purpose was not entirely absent from the Classical tradition, particularly in the works of Mozart, but it is the feature that most clearly demonstrates the difference between the two eras.

Beethoven’s later development was very much away from Classicism, and his legacy, to composers such as Brahms and Schubert, was therefore a Romantic one.

Other Composers of the Classical Era

Franz Schubert (1797-1828) shares with Beethoven the accolade of being one of the fathers of Romanticism, although his early works are classical in nature. He was taught composition by Antonio Salieri, a near contemporary of Mozart’s, and was thus imbued with classical forms to which his natural gift for melody was added.

The sons of Johann Sebastian Bach, particularly Carl Philipp Emanuel (1714-88) and Johann Christian (1735-82) were important links between the Baroque and Classical eras.

Christoph Willibald Gluck (1714-87) was a notable composer of operas and ballets during the early Classical period.

Muzio Clementi (1752-1832) wrote many piano sonatas in the Classical style but his work looked forward to the Romantic period, as did that of his Irish pupil John Field (1782-1837).

William Boyce (1711-79) is the only English composer of note during this period, although his music harks back to the Baroque style.

© John Welford

The death of Mozart, 1791

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart died on 5^th December 1791, two months short of his 35^th birthday. The output of brilliant music throughout his life had been phenomenal, and he died with one of his greatest works, his “Requiem”, still unfinished. The work we have today was completed, based on Mozart’s notes, by one of his pupils, Franz Süssmayr.

Cause of death

Mozart had started feeling ill earlier in the year and had gone through phases of illness followed by partial recovery. He suspected that he would not survive and made remarks to the effect that the Requiem was being written as much for himself as for his anonymous commissioner.

He also hinted that he might have been poisoned, and the finger of suspicion was pointed at a fellow composer, Antonio Salieri, with whom Mozart had not always been on the best terms. However, there is absolutely no evidence to support this claim and it seems highly unlikely as a cause of death.

If Mozart had been poisoned it could have been at his own hand, through self-medication using over-strong preparations that included antimony.

However, there have been many speculations as to the cause of Mozart’s death, one of the stronger possibilities, due to consistencies with the symptoms, being that he was suffering from a subdural haematoma, or a bleed on the brain. The practice of bloodletting, which was a common treatment at the time for many illnesses, may also have been a contributory factor.

A “pauper’s grave”

Another myth surrounding Mozart’s death was that he was buried in a common pauper’s grave and thus not given the recognition that was his due. This claim needs to be put into its proper context.

There were two methods of burial available in Vienna at the time, the “common” method being that which applied to everyone who was not an aristocrat. It did not involve the body being tipped into a mass grave, as might be assumed, but it did mean that a body could be removed from a grave after ten years to make room for a new one. As it happened, Mozart’s skull was exhumed in 1801, ten years after its burial, and there have been conflicting claims over whether it still exists.

Whatever the cause of Mozart’s death, it clearly happened at far too young an age. The world was almost certainly denied a wealth of great music that one of its greatest ever composers never got to write.

© John Welford