Historical background
Program notes provided by
David J Kendall, PhD
Associate Professor of Music Chair, Department of Music, Director of Music History and Research, La Sierra University
Mozart
Symphony #26
To understand the career of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756 –1791), we must appreciate the European political situation—and the personal family dynamics—that prevailed during the composer’s childhood and adolescence. The father of the family, Leopold Mozart (1719 – 1787), was himself a talented musician, composer, and pedagogue who wrote an influential and respected treatise on violin-playing. As was common for musicians in the 18th century, Leopold served as a court musician, in his case as a member of the court ensemble of the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg. Over the years, he climbed through the ranks, eventually securing the position of deputy Kapellmeister (more or less, “assistant musical director”). The decade of the 1750s saw the birth of a daughter Maria Anna, and a son Wolfgang Amadeus; they were the Mozart family’s fourth and seventh children, respectively, but the only ones to survive infancy. Around 1759 Leopold realized that his two children were musical prodigies, and felt that it was his duty not only to train them to the best of his ability, but also to undertake a divine mission to reveal these “miracles” to the world.
Leopold’s plan for embarking on this mission was to take his children on a grand tour covering much of mainland Western Europe and England, and encompassing a full three and a half years, from mid 1763 to late 1766. Such long performance tours were not uncommon and it was standard practice—when finances permitted—to take precocious young musicians around the many courts, public concert venues, and opera houses of Europe, often in hopes of securing some kind of future preferment or employment in a prestigious musical establishment. Upon their return, the Mozart family remained in Austria for most of the next three years, Leopold having considered the tour a great success. His children had been praised and extolled by all classes of people and he had secured connections and introductions that would help him promote them further, and so he planned a follow-up tour to Italy. But not for both of his children. By 1769, Leopold judged that Maria Anna, now 18 years old and eligible for marriage, had “completed” her musical education—the family’s hopes would now rest upon the shoulders of the 13-year-old Wolfgang.
Leopold’s decision to take his son to Italy was logical: Italy was the birthplace and center of opera, home to the Papal States and centers of religious and liturgical music, and many parts of the peninsula were ruled by members of the Austrian Hapsburg family. This was important for both Mozarts, father and son. For Wolfgang, a stay in Italy would allow him to absorb the operatic idiom at its source—opera was, at the time, the most financially lucrative of the various musical paths he could take. For Leopold, his relationship with the Prince-Archbishop had soured somewhat; he was consistently passed over for promotion to the post of full Kapellmeister, and he hoped to secure a position for himself in one of the Italian Hapsburg courts. Unfortunately, Leopold had gained somewhat of a reputation for being “pushy,” which worked against him, and he did not receive the hoped-for offers of employment. In contrast, the trip, which took over a year to complete (late 1769 to early 1771), was very successful for Wolfgang. He studied with the most important Italian music theorist of the time, Giovanni Battista Martini, received a Papal knighthood, gained a complete mastery of Italian opera, and received several commissions for future compositions. This led to two later, shorter trips to Italy (mid to late 1771, and late 1772 to early 1773), where Wolfgang would complete the commissioned works, and prepare for their performances.
It is in this context that we understand tonight’s work, the Symphony #26 in E-flat Major. It was completed in Salzburg at the end of March, 1773, scarcely two weeks after Wolfgang’s return from the third and final Italian trip, and just weeks after his 17th birthday—it is possible that parts of it were written in Italy or even on the road home, though Wolfgang often composed extremely quickly. The symphony itself is rather short, especially when compared with the Vienna symphonies of his later years, but Wolfgang does include a rather large—for its time—wind section. Usually performed without breaks between its three movements, and with musical ideas that are short and concise, this piece is like a plate of light and refreshing hors d’oeuvres.
PROGRAM
MOZART
Symphony #26 in E-flat major, K. 184
BERLIOZ
Le nuits d’ete (summer nights)
Soloist: Elissa Johnston
~Intermission
CIMAROSA
Udite, tutti udite from Il Matrimonio Segretto (Secret Marriage)
MOZART
Madamina, from Don Giovanni
Diggi Daggi, from Bastien und Bastienne
Soloist: Jamal Moore
J. STRAUSS II
Emperor Waltz
The Blue Danube
Berlioz
Nuits d’été
By soloist: Elissa Johnston
Hector Berlioz (1803 – 1869) is considered among the most romantic of the Romantic Era composers, at least as far as his personal life was concerned. The French composer was prone to bouts of infatuation throughout his lifetime, the first occurring at 12 years old when he fell in love with an 18-year-old neighbor. Berlioz’s father was a local doctor and his parents planned a career for him in medicine, a vocation not much to the liking of their somewhat squeamish son. Nevertheless, he enrolled in medical school in Paris, graduating at the age of 21. However, the time spent in the French metropole allowed Berlioz access to the vibrant musical life of the city, and he often abandoned his medical studies to take in performances at the Opéra, visit the music library of the Paris Conservatoire, and take private lessons in composition. Despite the strenuous objections of his parents, who proposed sending him to law school if medicine did not suit—anything but music—Berlioz enrolled as a student at the Conservatoire in 1826, two years after finishing medical school.
It was in this first year of formal music study that Berlioz attended performances of Shakespeare’s Hamlet given by a travelling English acting company, and there that he first laid eyes on the Anglo-Irish actress Harriet Smithson. Smithson was lauded in France as a great talent with her convincing portrayal of Ophelia’s madness, and her later roles as Juliet in Romeo and Juliet and Desdemona in Othello were highly influential on contemporary actresses, many of who imitated her acting method. Though he spoke almost no English, Berlioz was highly affected by Shakespeare’s plays, and instantly smitten with Harriet Smithson—though we might more accurately say that he was enamored of Smithson’s Ophelia. This began a years-long obsession in which the then-relatively unknown French composer was unable even to secure a meeting with the famous actress. This would change several years later in 1832 when circumstances had largely reversed, with Berlioz an acclaimed composer and Smithson’s career in decline. The two finally met in person that year, and were married within several months. While the first years of their marriage are thought to have been happy ones, their relationship soon deteriorated and by 1841 Berlioz had taken a mistress, the French mezzo-soprano Marie Recio, who would later become his second wife. It is here that the story of Nuits d’été begins.
Théophile Gautier was a well-respected French poet, novelist, dramatist, and literary critic, and also a neighbor and close friend of Hector Berlioz. Gautier published a collection of poems in 1838 entitled La Comédie de la Mort (The Comedy of Death), where each poem treats the subject of love, but largely from the point of view of love’s loss. Berlioz selected and set six of the poems to music as a song cycle, which follows a loose theme moving from innocence and youth, to loss, and to the hope (perhaps ironic) of a future for love. Finished around 1841, the cycle was originally set for voice and piano, though Berlioz arranged the fourth song, “Absence,” for voice and orchestra for Marie Recio in 1843. He eventually fully orchestrated all six songs, and these orchestrations have since become the modern standard of performance. Each of the songs in this cycle gives us a glimpse into the mind and heart of Hector Berlioz, that most romantic Romantic.
Cimarosa
Il matrimonio segreto
Geronimo’s letter from Count Robinson
The Italian composer Domenico Cimarosa was roughly a contemporary of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, though the circumstances of his family background, musical education, and rise to fame were entirely different. The son of a stonemason, Cimarosa was born and raised in and around the city of Naples. His father was killed in a construction accident when Domenico was still a young boy, and fortunately a local order of monks took in his mother, employing her as a laundress, and also seeing to it that Domenico received an education. Finding that he had a talent for music, they helped him enroll at the leading musical conservatory in Naples, where he began studies at the age of twelve. In his youth, Cimarosa largely composed sacred music, but eventually gained fame with the public through his operas, most of them on comic themes. Unlike Leopold Mozart (and later Wolfgang as well), Cimarosa was highly successful throughout his career and had no difficulty in securing lucrative positions all over Europe. After a stint in St. Petersburg composing for the court of Empress Catherine II, Cimarosa arrived in Vienna in 1792, a year after the younger Mozart’s premature death in the same city. Emperor Leopold II almost immediately appointed him as imperial Kapellmeister and commissioned a new opera, Il matrimonio segreto (“The Secret Marriage”). When the two-act opera was premiered, the Emperor was so pleased with the performance that he ordered the musicians to be given supper, and the opera then repeated in its entirety, making it arguably the longest encore in history.
The opera itself is a common type of the later 18th and early 19th centuries, a comedy of errors in which blunders, mistaken identity, and mismatched love interests dominate the story. The setting is the house of the wealthy Bolognese businessman Geronimo, where he lives with his unmarried sister Fidalma, and daughters Elisetta and Carolina. He employs a young secretary, Paolino, who is secretly married to his youngest daughter Carolina. Paolino is trying to arrange a marriage between a wealthy nobleman, Count Robinson, and Elisetta, in hopes that once the elder daughter has been married, his own secret marriage to Carolina will be recognized and accepted. However, Count Robinson prefers Carolina, and is willing to accept a smaller dowry if he can marry her instead, commanding Paolino to arrange this new match. o throw a further wrench into the works, we discover that Fidalma is actually in love with Paolino and wants to marry him. Both Carolina and Paolino cannot bring themselves to tell Count Robinson the truth of their clandestine marriage, and Elisetta accuses both of them of trying to sabotage her own potential marriage with the nobleman. Fidalma arrives to try and calm the situation, and everyone tries to explain themselves at once to a confused and exasperated Geronimo.
As is common to this genre of opera, the second act features a fast-paced, comic resolution of the plot. Carolina and Paolino finally reveal their secret marriage, Geronimo and Fidalma are furious, but are admonished by Elisetta and Count Robinson to forgive them, before announcing that they will marry each other after all.
Tonight’s aria “Udite, tutti udite” takes place early in the first act, when Geronimo receives a letter from Count Robinson (F) agreeing to marry his daughter Elisetta. Geronimo is delighted by the potential match, which will make his daughter into a countess, and he also extends his schemes, hoping likewise to marry Carolina off to a nobleman. The aria is full of avaricious exclamations of ambition, while the knowing audience laughs at Geronimo’s fundamental misunderstanding of the situation.
Mozart
Don Giovanni
By soloist: Jamal Moore
As a continuation of the story of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart from above, we continue past the grand tour with his sister and his three subsequent trips to Italy. In 1763, the now 17-year-old Wolfgang officially entered the service of the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg, and his music became very popular in the city. However, he was not satisfied with the relatively low salary of a court musician, and he had almost no opportunity to compose operas which, after his Italian travels, he was well-prepared and eager to do. Thus Wolfgang and Leopold took frequent short leaves of absence from Salzburg to attempt to find the younger Mozart better employment opportunities. At various times they visited Vienna, Munich, Augsburg, Mannheim, and Paris, but no acceptable positions were offered, and Wolfgang reluctantly returned to the Prince-Archbishop’s court, albeit now with a better position and higher salary. However, Mozart still desired to participate in musical life outside of provincial Salzburg. In this, he was frequently opposed by his employer, who often refused to give him leave to compose and perform outside his domains. As a solution—opposed by his father—Wolfgang attempted to resign. This was initially refused, but finally granted in a highly insulting way: his resignation was approved by way of the Prince-Archbishop’s steward dismissing him “with a kick in the arse.”
With his ego, and perhaps his backside, a bit bruised, the 25-year-old Wolfgang was free to pursue his fortune in the imperial capital of Vienna, where he permanently settled in 1781. He made an impact on Viennese musical society almost immediately as a performer at the keyboard, and then as a composer of popular opera. In these early years, he also got married to Constanze Weber, a singer and member of a talented musical family. The years 1786 and 1787 may be considered a high-water mark in Wolfgang’s career: he was making (and spending) large amounts of money, was widely celebrated as a top-rank performer and composer of instrumental music, and produced some of his most popular and enduring operas. Among the most important of these operas were three that he composed in partnership with the Venetian poet and librettist Lorenzo da Ponte. The first of these collaborations was Le nozze di Figaro (“The Marriage of Figaro”) in 1786. This opera was highly successful in Vienna, but wildly successful in Prague, so much so that Wolfgang received a commission to compose and premiere a new opera there for the 1787 season. This Prague opera was Don Giovanni.
The subject of the opera is the legend of Don Juan, a notorious Spanish adventurer and libertine from an early 17th century play by Tirso de Molina. While considered at the time to be a comic opera in the same vein as Domenico Cimarosa’s Il matrimonio Segreto, there are certain aspects of the characters that have not aged well in the 21st century, as well as some relatively dark themes. The opera begins with Don Giovanni’s servant Leporello complaining that it is hard to work for such a master, constantly serving as a lookout while he pursues his amorous conquests. Don Giovanni is attempting to “seduce” an engaged woman while in disguise—an act that would likely now be considered a sexual assault. He runs into the courtyard where Leporello is keeping watch, closely followed by the woman, Donna Anna. Her father, the Commendatore (a retired military commander) arrives on scene shortly afterwards, denounces the dishonorable Don Giovanni, and challenges him to a duel. After a short fight, Don Giovanni kills the Commendatore, and flees the scene with Leporello. The rest of the opera follows Don Giovanni’s continued attempts at seduction, the growing dissatisfaction of Leporello, and the attempts of various women to bring the notorious debaucher to justice. The opera concludes with two notable scenes. In the first, Don Giovanni and Leporello are in a graveyard hiding from groups of people seeking vengeance, and they discover that they are crouching beneath a statue that stands over the grave of the murdered Commendatore. A ghostly voice emanates from the statue, warning Don Giovanni that his time on earth is nearly at an end. Scornfully, Don Giovanni invites the Commendatore to join him for a feast that evening. Later, at the feast, they hear an ominous knocking at the door, and when the door is opened, the statue of Commendatore enters, telling Don Giovanni that he has come to accept the invitation. The statue then asks if Don Giovanni will accept his own invitation to dinner, which the reckless man brashly accepts. At this, the statue takes his hand in pledge—unable to release himself from the grip of the stone hand, Don Giovanni suddenly feels chilled and weakened. The Commendatore offers him one last chance to repent, but is obstinately refused. The stone statue disappears, and a crowd of demons rush in and pull Don Giovanni down to hell.
The aria “Madamina, il catalogo e questo” (“Dear Madam, here is the catalogue”), takes place immediately after the opening scene of the murder of the Commendatore. While lounging around in front of his palace, Don Giovanni and Leporello hear the sound of an approaching woman, Donna Elvira, as she sings about seeking revenge on a lover who has abandoned her. Don Giovanni takes the opportunity to flirt with the woman, but as their eyes meet, they recognize each other, and he realizes that he is the lover she is singing about. Shrinking back and—coward that he is—instructing Leporello to explain things to Donna Elvira, he takes to his heels. His servant dutifully obeys, and pulls out the catalogue, a notebook he has been keeping as a record of each of Don Giovanni’s sexual conquests. Leporello notes that it doesn’t matter whether a woman is young or old, attractive or not, high-born or low; if they wear a skirt, he will pursue them. Leporello attempts to put things in context for Donna Elvira by sharing the number of women recorded in the catalogue (modern-day young people refer to this as a “body count”)—Italy: 640. Germany: 231. France: 100. Turkey: 91. Spain: 1003.
Mozart
Bastien und Bastienne
The shepherd girl’s sheep
For context into this little opera of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, we must go back into his childhood, during the time he and his family are in Salzburg after returning from their lengthy grand tour, but before Wolfgang and Leopold’s trips to Italy. According to unverified reports, this opera was commissioned by the famous Viennese physician Dr. Franz Mesmer (from whom we get the word “mesmerize”), who wanted the 12-year-old prodigy to write a parody of the pastoral-themed operas which were then in fashion. Pastoral operas and dramas typically depicted rural life—particularly of shepherds—as an ideal mode of existence in which humans live simple lives in close harmony with the natural world—and sometimes the supernatural world of nature spirits. The primary audiences for such pastoral works were modern urban and suburban audiences, who enjoyed the simple, bucolic scenes that contrasted with their own modern, complex, and complicated lives. Given that the pastoral was already an established genre, it was ripe for caricature and satire, which is accomplished in Mozart’s one-act comic opera.
The opera, Bastien und Bastienne (“Shepherd and Shepherdess”) is set in a small village nestled among sheep pastures. Bastienne is worried that her beloved, Bastien, has fallen in love with another shepherd girl, and she enlists the help of the village magician and soothsayer, Colas, to help her win him back. Colas states that Bastien has not been unfaithful, but is merely distracted by other “pretty faces.” He advises Bastienne to act in a cold and aloof manner to Bastien, and he will return to her. Soon, Bastien approaches, expressing out loud to nobody in particular how much he loves Bastienne. The shepherdess hides, and Colas tells Bastien that Bastienne has a new lover—the shepherd is shocked and asks the magician to cast a spell that will bring her back. Colas sings the aria “Diggi, daggi, shurry, murry,” which is made up of nonsense syllables interspersed with the occasional Latin phrase (such as “quid pro quo”). He declares that his spell has been successful, but Bastienne reappears and pretends to be angry at Bastien. In the end and after some simple banter, the couple reconciles and the three characters sing a trio praising the power of Colas’ magic.
Johann Strauss II
Emperor Waltz
&
On the beautiful blue Danube
Danube
The life and times of Johann Strauss II (1825 – 1899), or “The Waltz King” as he was commonly known, are interesting as a comparison and contrast to those of the Mozarts a century earlier. Like Leopold and Wolfgang, both Johann Strauss I (“the Elder,” 1804 – 1849) and Johann Strauss II (“the Younger”) were accomplished and respected musicians, and also like their earlier Austrian counterparts, the son eventually outshone the father. However, unlike the Mozart family, Strauss “the Elder” was vehemently opposed to Strauss “the Younger” pursuing training and a career in music, rather wanting him to become a banker in order to avoid the difficult and rigorous life of a professional musician. When “the Elder” caught “the Younger” secretly practicing the violin one day, he gave him a severe beating, hoping to “whip the music out of him.” Fortunately—for posterity, not for the family—“the Elder” abandoned his wife and children to live with a mistress, and “the Younger” was now free to pursue music studies. When he made his public debut with a concert of dance music including waltzes and polkas, he received widespread praise, though as “the Elder” had predicted, the life of the young musician was initially difficult. It did not help that there was an intense professional rivalry between father and son, but one that ended prematurely when “the Elder” died of scarlet fever in 1849. “The Younger’s” star continued to rise, and he enjoyed continuous popularity and financial security throughout his lifetime.
Tonight’s two waltzes come from very different periods in Strauss’ (we can now dispense with “the Younger”) life and Viennese society. The first of them to be composed was “An der schönen blauen Donau,” commonly translated as “By the beautiful blue Danube,” (or simply “the Blue Danube Waltz”) in 1866. The work was initially composed for men’s chorus with orchestral accompaniment, and both the title and the original lyrics are quite pessimistic and sarcastic. The title refers to the “beautiful blue Danube” river flowing through Vienna, which would have been understood with humor as the Danube was not blue; it was rather filthy and polluted in the mid-19th century, and it did not flow through Vienna—the river’s course has changed over time, and in Strauss’ day the only portion of the Danube that entered the city was via a dirty canal. Modern Southern California audiences would understand the Viennese reaction if we were to hear a waltz whose subject is “the clean, windswept alpine meadows of the Los Angeles basin.” The lyrics, written by Josef Weyl, are likewise highly satirical. They begin with the command “Be joyful, Vienna!” which is immediately answered, “Ha! but why?” This must be taken in the context of the state of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1867, when the piece was premiered. Austria had recently lost a brief war with Prussia and was in the midst of a severe economic recession; what is more, there was a general outbreak of cholera. The words of the waltz urge Viennese citizens to dance and enjoy themselves in the present, as no one has any money, and neither are there any hopeful prospects for the future. Strauss adapted the waltz into a purely instrumental work the same year; this version was highly successful and is generally considered the truly “authentic” version of the waltz. In this form, “the Blue Danube Waltz” is one of the most beloved and recognized works in the entire canon of Classical art music.
The second of tonight’s waltzes to be composed was the “Emperor Waltz” (“Kaiser-Walzer,” though the original title was “Hand in Hand”), written in 1889. Political tensions between the German and Austrian empires had improved significantly in the wake of the Austro-Prussian War of 1866, and the leaders of the two polities were on frequent visiting terms. This waltz was commissioned for an August, 1889 state visit of Austrian Emperor Franz Joseph I—celebrating the 40th year of his reign—to Berlin to meet with his younger German counterpart Kaiser Wilhelm II, who had inherited his throne the previous year. Intended as a “toast of friendship” and fraternity between the German-speaking nations, its title “Emperor” can refer to either of the emperors, or both. As a symbol of the two empires, the piece begins in the style of a Prussian military march, before moving on to a standard triple-meter Viennese waltz.