Minnesota Orchestra Tours Japan: Mozart

Mozart's Symphony No. 39 Listen in RealAudio Minnesota Orchestra Tours Japan Home
Program Notes by Mary Ann Feldman Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart Born January 7, 1756, Salzburg; died December 4, 1791, Vienna Symphony No. 39 in E-flat major, K. 543 All Vienna was languishing in the hot African winds blowing from the south when, across a mere six weeks in the summer of 1788, Mozart composed the magnificent trilogy of his three final symphonies. Though he lived three years longer, there would be no more. Had he survived another decade, to his mid-forties, the Beethoven symphonies might not appear so revolutionary. There are countless clues to Mozart's future path in his crowning symphonic works. Each is as different from the others as could be. The composer dutifully recorded them in his thematic catalogue: No. 39 in E-flat, K. 543, abundantly lyrical and serene; No. 40 in G minor, K. 550, restless, stormy and implicitly tragic; and finally, the triumphant No. 41 in C major, K. 551, a work of Olympian stature known as the Jupiter. The contrast between them is startling, showing how Mozart isolated the outward circumstances of his life from his musical expression. At age 32, the composer was at the height of his powers, but his career had begun to deteriorate and he was hard pressed to support his young family. An appointment from the Imperial Court netted only 800 gulden for duties so insignificant as to verge on the insulting. Financial stress forced him to solicit loans from his Masonic brothers, notably the businessman Michael Puchberg; such assistance warded off bill collectors but was humiliating. Meanwhile, Mozart's star was fading, for the fickle Viennese audience had begun to lose interest in him as pianist. To a publisher who urged him to pander to the public taste, he could only respond: "Then I can make no more by my pen, and I had better starve and go to destruction at once!" Few of these undercurrents of his situation emerge in the Symphony in E-flat--a favorite key of his that would provide the tonal anchor for The Magic Flute, composed in the last months of his life and reflecting his immersion in the symbolism of the Masonic brotherhood into which he had recently been initiated. As in the rites of the opera, three solemn knocks on the portal of truth are evoked in the commanding chords upon which the Adagio introduction opens the symphony. Certain musical details of this exalted work have been viewed as Masonic elements: parallel thirds, symbolizing fraternity; the striking role of the clarinet, then a newcomer to the symphonic ensemble but commonly heard at Masonic gatherings and in the opera house; and even slurred notes, whose ties suggest friendship. These elements may be coincidental, but one thing is sure: as an artist of the Enlightenment, Mozart revered the ideals of his brotherhood. Mozart also cherished his friendship with Joseph Haydn, who years before had saluted his genius and who would weep at news of his death, declaring "Forgive me, but I loved the man too much." At least unconsciously, aspects of the Symphony No. 39 pay homage to Haydn who, at 56, was a venerated, still thriving composer. The structural layout of the opening movement, beginning with the dignified prologue that builds such suspense, is close to the Haydn model. Both composers had a flair for the grand, as the resonance of trumpets and drums in this symphony reminds us. Mozart dares to raise a dissonance or two: only an indifferent ear will fail to catch the grating dissonance of C against D-flat, an abrasive minor second which generates strong harmonic tension in passing. (If this confuses you, try striking adjacent white and black keys on the piano.) Suddenly the music does an about turn, dispensing with its lofty thoughts to revel in a sunny Allegro theme; the transition is effected so smoothly, and with so little fuss, as to risk going unnoticed. A gentle strain, sculpted in the classical proportions of the architecture of his time, ushers in the Andante con moto-- initially without ornament or complexity, and scored almost as if for chamber ensemble. This soon gives way to a stormy section in high contrast: plunging into F minor, Mozart pours out one of his most passionate symphonic statements, perhaps allowing a glimpse of the despair that intruded in his last years. The sturdy Menuetto is cast in the court dance type at which Mozart excelled. But its trio section not only takes its cue from the Alpine folk dance that was the ancestor of the waltz but is actually based on a genuine Lndler tune, given out by a pair of clarinets. That Mozart was partial to their gentle tootling in these years is something for which clarinetists are eternally grateful. Here the first clarinet offers the friendly tune while its stand partner burbles a cheerful accompaniment. Haydn, the elder symphonic statesman, also was a pro at delivering rustic music like this, and his cheerful imprint is similarly apparent in the spirited finale, which imitates what he most loved to do: build an entire movement upon a single playful tune, and subject it to intensive thematic and harmonic manipulations. Mozart's pervasive humor is never lost, here in the symphony as in his sparkling comic opera finales.