In 1787 America is beginning to enjoy independence, with both the dollar and the constitution making their debut. In fact, like buses and bridegrooms on a Moonie wedding night, these things all seemed to come at once. France, in particular, is beginning to feel distinctly edgy, with its parlement demanding a summit of the three estates: the nobility, the clergy and the commons. Louis XVI is filibustering madly. Well, I suppose you would, wouldn't you? In war, Turkey throws a six, meaning it's their turn, so they choose to declare war on… Russia, please, Bob. Of course, back in the land of Eng, the turmoil, sturm und drang of the entire world pales into insignificance when set against matters closer to home - that is, the MCC has been founded. Cue lots of lovely handshakes, handlebar moustaches and an immediate move to Lord's. Jolly good show, I say, catch that, can you? Well done, Wolfgang.
Ah yes, Wolfgang. Let's catch up with him, shall we? For he's currendy in a rather bum-punchingly uncomfortable coach, en route from Vienna to Prague. Going through his head must be all manner of things. It's now October and he only lost his father in May. Now losing your father is always a big loss, but remember, this is the father who, genius aside, more or less made Amadeus what lie was, in every respect. And Wolfgang had already lost his third child, Joli.iiui Thomas, just the year before. He must have been such a mass of different thoughts and feelings on his way to Prague. He's going, with Ins wile Constanze, to rehearse and premiere his latest opera, at die Prague National Theatre. It's important for Mozart. Despite the fact that someone with a brain like his must have known the importance of the work in a, sort of, global sense - that is, in terms of its place in history - despite this, he knew it was important in other ways too, chiefly monetarily.
The Mozarts are managing to keep the Wolfgang from the door, but money is at a premium. A good premiere here means that it not only does well in Prague, but that it will also have doors opened for it in a number of other cities, too. Indeed, Mozart received this commission as a direct result of the success of The Marriage of Figaro. He was soon to get the top job in Vienna of 'Kammermusicus' -which translates as 'big music cheese' - but, for some reason known best to themselves, the powers-that-be-" would agree to pay him not even half the salary which the previous incumbent, Gluck of the Mildly Amusing Middle Name, had been paid. So, for just a minute, try and put yourself in Mozart's shoes.
Think of that crowd behind you in the Prague National Theatre. They haven't heard the opera that's been in your head for months. They haven't sat through the rehearsals over the past two weeks: the shouting, the endless repeats, the tantrums, even. They don't know that until the night before, Mozart hadn't written the overture, in fact had to be reminded by friends and then produced one literally overnight/* They don't know that so much time, energy and personal tragedy have been invested in the work they are about to hear. Don Giovanni.
Or to give it its original title, II Dissolute Punito, or 'The Punished Rake', although this is never used now. Don Giovanni is considered by some to be one of, if not the, greatest moment in classical music, and, certainly, the Frymobile would subscribe to that point of view. It's set in Seville, and is one of dozens of operas to use the story of Don Juan, lothario and rogue, who strays between the opera's comic and serious faces, laughing in them both. It's full of great music, not least that speedily written overture, the Catalogue aria, 'La ci darem la mano', and the Champagne aria. Gorgeous stuff. fi Do you think, in Cornwall, when you cease as one of the 'powers-that-be' you become a 'power-that- baint'? ji fl Some say he started writing at midnight and had finished it by 3 a.m.
Thankfully, the good people of Prague gave it a resounding thumbs-up. It would eventually transfer to Vienna, too, a much more important audience - where it opens on the same evening as an all-night sitting of the British Parliament to debate William Wilberforce's motion for the abolition of slavery - and it then has a good run of some fifteen performances at the National Court Theatre. Just a month later, though, Mozart loses his fourth child, Theresia. No doubt the whole family are hoping that 1788 will play itself out with no more tragedy. Thankfully for Mozart, it does.
1788. If ever there was a calm-before-the-storm year, this was probably it. Louis XVI is in deep doodoo - or du du, as they would say there. The French parlement have presented their dull list of grievances to him and, amid streets teeming with crowds rioting over bread, he promises to call a meeting of the three estates by May '89. But will that be soon enough? In England, George III has succumbed to a bout of mental ill-health, but, on the bright side, the MCC have codified the rules of cricket. All in all, it's a funny, uneasy sort of year and for Mozart, it's a question of: can he put his bad patch behind him and come up with some great music? Well, of course he can. Come on, this is Mozart we're talking about here!
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.