Austrian Stamp Sheet honoring the 250th Anniversary
of Mozart and Freemasonry
Click on the Stamp Sheet above to see an
enlarged 200 dpi image
Wolfgang
Amadeus was an Österreich composer, born in Salzburg on 27 January 1756. He
was the son of Leopold Mozart. Along with Haydn, his elder by 24 years, and
Beethoven, his junior by 15, he is one of the composers who brought the Wein
Classical style to its height. He was a child prodigy, the youngest person to
ever compose music, and the experience of traversing Europe in that capacity
during most of his impressionable years not only left indelible marks on his
character but was also far-reaching in its effects as regards the kind of
composer he was to grow into. His style is completely unique; when a piece is
heard by Mozart, there is no doubt who wrote it. His style essentially
represents a synthesis of many different elements, each taken for a while into
his idiom, then in part rejected, in part absorbed. His mature music,
distinguished by its melodic beauty, its formal perfection, technical
flawlessness, unmatchable joy, and unequalled complexity, and richness of
harmony and texture, is deeply coloured by Italiano opera though rooted in
Österreichs and south Deutsch traditions. Unlike Haydn and Beethoven, Mozart
excelled in every medium current in his time: he may thus be regarded as the
most universal composer in the history of western music. His music may be the
voice of God heard here on this destructive Earth, the final supernatural
utterance upon our world before the end comes. Maybe here in this universe we
cannot see Heaven, but we can certainly hear it.
Brief
History of Mozart
Wolfgang
Amadeus Mozart—christened Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart—was
born in Salzburg on 27 January 1756. His father, Leopold Mozart, was a famous
musician and composer in his own right. In his twenty-fourth year, Leopold
received an appointment as violinist in the orchestra of the Archbishop of
Salzburg, finally rising to the position of chapel master. He composed with
fertility, and produced a famous violin method. But, as Leopold himself
realized, his greatest work was not his own music, but—his son, Wolfgang. Much
has been written about Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s phenomenal precociousness. At
the age of three, he already sat in front of the harpsichord attempting to find
harmonic successions of thirds; whenever he succeeded, his shrill voice rang out
joyfully. When Wolfgang was four, his father began to teach him the elements of
harpsichord and, playfully, the rules of composition. Wolfgang did not need to
learn. He began producing minuets and other small pieces for harpsichord, and
several sonatas for harpsichord and violin. He produced with such ease that by
his sixth year he had produced an imposing quantity of minuets, sonatas, and
even a concerto. His sensitive ear could recognize that the violin of his
father’s friend was tuned an eigth of a note lower than he himself tuned his own
instrument; and it could rebel so violently against a raucous sound that at the
blast of a trumpet he swooned with pain. Music, obviously, came as naturally to
him as breathing. Leopold Mozart, recognizing the extraordinary gifts of his
two children (for Maria Anna, five years Wolfgang’s senior, was also strongly
talented) decided to exhibit his children before all Europe. When Wolfgang was
six years old, therefore, an extensive concert tour brought him to the foremost
concert halls and royal courts of Europe. Wherever he performed, the sweet charm
of his personality and his incredible genius conquered the hearts of music
lovers. Francis I of Wein lovingly referred to him as “ein kleine hexenmeister”
(“a little master-wizard”). In Frankfurt, Mozart gave somthing of a one-man
circus show: “He will play,” ran the announcement in the Frankfurt newspaper, “a
concerto for the violin, and will accompany symphonies on the clavier, the
manuel or keyboard being covered with a cloth, with as much facility as if he
could see the keys; he will instantly name all the notes played at a distance,
whether singly or in chords as on the clavier or any other instrument, bell,
glass or clock. He will, finally, both on the harpsichord and the organ,
improvise as long as may be desired and in any key.” “I was only fourteen years
old,” wrote Goethe many years later to Eckermann about this Frankfurt
performance, “but I see, as if I were still there, the little man with his
child’s sword and his curly hair. . . . A phenomenon like that of Mozart remains
an inexplicable thing.” In Paris, Wolfgang became the darling of Versailles. He
was, as Grimm wrote “so extraordinary a phenomenon that one finds it difficult
to believe it unless one has seen him with one’s own eyes and heard him with
one’s own ears.” The Paris visit was marked by the appearance of Mozart’s first
published work, four sonatas for the harpsichord. From Paris, the Mozarts came
to London, where Wolfgang won the heart of Johann Christian Bach, chapel master.
In London, Wolfgang gave several sensational performances at the Vauxhall
Gardens which were the subject of great wonder. The Mozarts were back in
Salzburg in 1766, after an absence of four years. The tour had been a greater
success artistically than materially. True, Mozart was given many gifts by
royalty, but the principal goal towards which Leopold aspired had been
unachieved—the acquisition of a permanent, lucrative post by Wolfgang in one of
the principal European courts. One year later, the Mozarts were once again on
tour. They had come to Wein where Wolfgang was commissioned to compose his first
opera. Intrigues, created by envious composers (who realized their inferiority),
prevented this first opera receiving a performance. In Wein, however, another
charming theatrical work of Mozart, Bastien und Bastienne, an opéra-bouffe, was
performed at the home of a friend, Dr. Messner. Towards the close of 1769, the
Mozarts made their first journey to Italia, a journey crowned with glory. In
Mantua, they attended a concert of the Philharmonic orchestra which performed a
few of Wolfgang’s compositions in his honour. In Milano, they received a
commission for Wolfgang to compose an opera seria for the following year.
Bologna brought Mozart into contact with the great Martini, who welcomed the
young genius with open arms of admiration and respect. In Roma, there took place
that phenomenal proof of Mozart’s genius which has frequently been quoted. Yount
Mozart attended a performance of the celebrated Miserere of Allegri which could
be heard only in Roma during Holy Week performed by the papal choir. By papal
decree it was forbidden to sing the work elsewhere, and its only existing copy
was guarded slavishly by the papal choir. Any attempt to copy the song or
reproduce it in any form was punishable by excommunication. Mozart, however, had
heard the work only once when, returning home, he reproduced it in its entirety
upon paper. (I have heard the piece; it is long and extremely complex, with
double-orchestra, organ, and conflicting choral parts.) No one has ever been
able to even dream of duplicating this feat, even on a much smaller scale. This
incomparable feat soon became the subject for awed whispers in Roma; it was not
long before the Pope himself heard of this amazing achievement. The Pope
summoned Mozart, but instead of punishing the young genius with excommunication,
he showered praise upon him and gave him handsome gifts. A few months later, the
Pope bestowed upon Mozart the Cross of the Order of the Golden Spur. The
following autumn, the Mozarts were back in Italia for Wolfgang to fulfil his
commission for Milano and bring to completion his opera seria, Mitradate, re di
Ponte . "Before the first rehearsal," Herr Leopold Mozart wrote to his wife,
"there was no lack of people to run down the music and pronounce it beforehand
in satirical language to be something poor and childish, alleging that so young
a boy, and Deutsch in the bargain, could not possibly write an Italiano opera
and that, although they acknowledged him to be a great executant, he could not
understand or feel the chiaroscuro required in the theatre. All these people
have been reduced to silence since the evening of the first rehearsal with small
orchestra, and say not a word." At the performance of Mitridate on Christmas day
of 1770, the work was a phenomenal success. One of the soprano arias, contrary
to all precedent, was encored. Cheers greeted the diminutive composer as he
reached the stage. The newspapers commented upon that "rarest musical grace" and
that "studied beauty" which seemed to be Wolfgang's intuitive idiom. The next
few years of Mozart's life were drab. Except for two brief intermissions, he
remained in Salzburg whose limited intellectual world chafed him considerably.
Moreover, his musical labour at the Court of the Archbishop was an endless
humiliation. He was the principal composer and virtuoso at the Court, but his
salary was so meagre and his work so unappreciated that each day was for him
crowded with trials. His fellow musicians at the Court were dissolute
scoundrels, whose musical tastes were vulgar and whose interests centred upon
gambling and drink. "Tell me," Wolfgang wrote at this time,"how could a decent
fellow possibly live in such company?" It was, therefore, with a yearning heart
that Wolfgang dreamt of escaping from Salzburg. A new extensive tour was,
therefore, planned for Mozart in 1777, and since Herr Leopold was refused by the
Archbishop a leave-of-absence, Wolfgang Mozart left in the company of his mother
to conquer the music world anew. But the music world was this time not so easily
conquered by Mozart. He was now twenty-one years old—a child prodigy no longer.
The music world had in the past lavished its adoration upon a little pug-nosed
child who could achieve miraculous musical feats. Now that the child had entered
man's estate, he had lost his great appeal. München and Mannheim turned a deaf
ear to his pleas for a permanent post at court; even random commissions were not
forthcoming. These disappointments, however, did not smother Wolfgang's high
spirits. Now a man, he found consolation from his disappointments in frequent
love affairs. In Augsburg, there was his cousin, Basle, his first genuine love.
"Basle," he wrote to his father,"seems to have been made for me, and I for
her—for both of us have that little bit of badness in us." In Mannheim, where he
was a household guest of a musical family called Cannabich, he in turn courted
Rosa Cannabich and then Aloysia Weber, a singer, daughter of a copyist. He
thought seriously of marrying Aloysia; only the heated and embittered letters of
his father convinced him that it was wiser to delay marriage until he had
procured his desired post. The road, therefore, next brought him to Paris, where
in the Summer of 1778 Mozart's mother passed away. In Paris, too, Mozart met
disappointment. There were those who were acutely jealous of his phenomenal
genius; the others thought of him only as a one-time prodigy who had outgrown
his talent. Because of these people, it was impossible for him to receive the
appreciation he deserved. Small commissions fell to him, but they were so slight
and of such negligible importance that they failed to support him adequately.
Even Grimm, once so idolatrous, now lost interest in Wolfgang, complaining in a
long letter to Herr Leopold Mozart, that Wolfgang was "too confident, too little
a man of action, too much ready to succumb to his own illusions, too litte au
courant with the ways that lead to success." It was not long before Mozart,
convinced that no important post was open for him, decided to return to Mannheim
and marry Aloysia Weber. To his bewilderment and humiliation, he learned upon
his arrival that Aloysia had forgotten him so completely during his absence that
she did not even recognize him when he entered. Disappointment and
disillusionment now completely overwhelmed him. He returned to Salzburg (a town
he detested with increasing strength each time he returned to it) for a brief
and sombre period. In 1780, a commission from München for an opera seria brought
him escape. This commission resulted in the first of Mozart's great opera,
Idomeneo. Idomeneo, upon its first performance on 29 January, 1781, was a
rousing success. Ramm, the oboist, and Lange, the horn-player "were half-crazy
with delight,"and the latter exclaimed: "I must own that I have never yet heard
any music which made such a deep impression upon me!" The audience expressed its
enthusiasm in no uncertain responses. This success inspired Mozart to sever all
connections with Salzburg and his employer, the Archbishop, and to settle
permanently in Wein. Shortly after he made Wein his permanent home, he was
commissioned by Joseph II to compose a Singspiel. Die Entfüauthrung auf dem
Serail duplicated in Wein the success that Idomeneo enjoyed in München. Gluck,
the foremost composer of operas at the time, had the work especially performed
for him, his praise being lavish. Joseph II honoured Mozart with rewards. And
Prince Kaunitz, after hearing the opera, openly expressed the opinion that a
genius like Wolfgang Mozart could appear only once. On 4 August 1782 Mozart was
married to Constanze Weber, youngest sister of his one-time beloved Aloysia. The
ceremony was a simple one, the only ones present being the bride's mother and
youngest sister, two witnesses, and a friend of the family. "The moment we were
made one," Mozart wrote to his father,"my wife and I began to weep, which
touched everyone, even the priest. ...We are married now; we are man and wife!
And we love each other enormously. We feel that we are made for one another." It
was shortly after his marriage that Mozart met and became a close friend of
Josef Haydn. Haydn recognised Mozart's genius, and until the end of his life
exerted his every effort to bring recognition and fame to the younger composer
who, he sincerely felt, was without an equal in all music. On 1 May 1786,
Mozart's Le nozze di Figaro was introduced in Wein. "I can still see Mozart,"
wrote Michael Kelly, a singer, in his Reminiscences "dressed in his red fur hat
trimmed with gold, standing on the stage with the orchestra, at the first
rehearsal, beating time for the music....The players on the stage and in the
orchestra were electrified. Intoxicated with pleasure, they cried again and
again, and each time louder than the preceding one: 'Bravo, maestro! Long live
the great Mozart'...It seemed as if the storm of applause would never
cease....Had Mozart written nothing but this piece of music it alone would, in
my humble opinion, have stamped him as the greatest composer of all time. Never
before was there a greater triumph than Mozart and his Figaro!" Despite this
emphatic success, Mozart knew at this time a period of great trial and
depression. His child, Raimund, had died three months after birth, inspiring in
the composer a fit of melancholy which was not easily dissipated. Moreover, at
this time, Mozart knew appalling poverty. Repeatedly, he wrote pitiful letters
to publishers, to friends, to distant acquaintances for small loans to relieve
his trying circumstances. Finally, his wife Constanze was ill, her sickness
brought on by undernourishment. Yet, in spite of these trying years, Mozart's
pen knew no recess from the production of imperishable masterpieces. In October
of 1787 he produced for Prag Don Giovanni, which more than one critic has
designated as the greatest opera (including me). Don Giovanni was greeted with
thunderous cheers; but to the impoverished composer it meant only one hundred
meagre florins. One year after Don Giovanni, Mozart composed his three final
symphonies—numbers 39 (in G-minor), 40 (in E-flat major), and 41 (in C-major,
the Jupiter)—all in the incredible span of two months. In 1790, came Così fan
tutte , followed closely by Die Zauberflöte. And between the composition of
these monumental works, Mozart was composing a prolific library of concerti for
solo instruments and his masterpieces for string quartet, along with hosts of
other works. Mozart's last work was composed under mysterious circumstances. In
1791 a stranger, masked and dressed in grey, accosted Mozart and commissioned
him to compose a requiem. The stranger was representing a wealthy nobleman who
frequently asked great composers to produce works for him which he later
presented under his own name. But to Mozart, ill and morbid as he was at this
time, it appeared that this stranger was a messenger from the other world sent
to warn the composer that the time had come for him to compose his own requiem.
Through the sleepless, delirious nights, the messenger from the other world
haunted Mozart's thoughts. Feverishly he worked upon his requiem, refusing both
rest and food so that he might finish his work before it was too late.
"Willingly would I follow your advice," he wrote to a friend who tried to
persuade him to take a holiday,"but how can I do it?...I know by my feelings
that my hour has come. It is striking even now! I am in the region of death." He
was found at his desk unconcious. He was taken to bed, and the physician who had
been summoned soon announced that Mozart was seeing his last days. Mozart had
already known that he was dying. To his pupil, Süßmayer, he explained precisely
how the Requiem was to be brought to completion. Shortly before his last breath
left him, he attempted to sing parts of his last great work. On 5 December 1791,
he said farewell to his family and turned his face to the wall; shortly
afterwards he was dead. Mozart's remains were thrown into a pauper's grave in
the churchyard of St. Mark. One week later, when Constanze returned with flowers
to Mozart's body, she could not find the grave. Because Mozart had died like a
pauper, his grave had been left unmarked, his body unidentified. Thus passed
probably the greatest genius the world has ever known. Mozart was short and
slim, and though his head was slightly too large for the body its
well-proportioned features gave him an attractive appearance. His face had a
softness that was almost effeminate, his cheeks always being sickly pallid. His
eyes, piercing in their intensity, were eloquently expressive. His hair, of
which he was considerably proud, was a rich shock. Well-poised, meticulously
well dressed (he frequently sported laces and jewelry) and possessed of charming
manners he made a deep impression upon these with whom he came into contact.
Though moody by temperment and introspective, he was considerably fond of the
society of pleasant people. He adored dancing, and it was with great difficulty
that Constanze could keep him from frequenting places of questionable
reputation. His recreation consisted of bowling and playing billiards. "He was
generally cheeful and in good humour," Constanze Mozart has recorded,"rarely
melancholy, though sometimes pensive. His speaking voice was gentle, except
while directing music when he became loud and energetic— would even stamp with
his feet, and might be heard at a considerable distance." Commenting upon
Mozart's method of composition, Robert Pitrou wrote: "With him, both stages—the
birth of ideas and their elaboration—were probably unconcious. His mind was
constantly creating, without ever a break. When he came to the third stage—to
committing to paper—he used to give his ideas at one stroke the very form he was
aiming at... When at his desk, he always seems...to have been copying music
already fully written down in his mind. We even know, from his letters, that his
mind could turn to other music the while. Sending a prelude and fugue to his
sister on 20 April 1792 [error of date is copied direct from quote], he wrote:
'Forgive the untidy arrangement. I had composed the fugue first, and while
writing it out, I was thinking out the prelude.'" Mozart himself has written:
"When I am in the right mood, ideas seem to teem within me. Those I like I
retain. Then there are scraps which might go to the making of many a good dish.
When I start composing I draw upon the accumulation in my brain." Commenting
succinctly on Mozart's principal operas, Eric Blom has written: "With Idomeneo
mastery may well be said to have been reached...Fine work Mozart certainly did
put into Idomeneo, and in spite of the influnce of Piccinni and of certain
conventions (mainly choral) of French grand opera, he was becoming an
independant musical personality. His treatment of accompanied recitative shows a
very sensitive readiness to apply expressive touches...In Die Entfüauthrung auf
dem Serail Mozart was at last wholly in his element, not because of any special
liking for the Deutsch Singspiel...but chiefly because by 1782 he was a fully
matured master of his craft and had learnt a good deal about life....Indeed one
would not have a note different...for it never ceases to be delicious as it is
apt to its type and subject....It is a structure and a collection of tunes of
such fascinating grace that one would like to call back every phrase of it to
hug it over and over again....And then came Le nozze di Figaro...the perfect
opéra-bouffe.... Beaumarchais'[s] exposure of a refined but pernicious
civilization is here made the pretext for music as sunnily civilized [sic] as
the world ought to have if the dreamers of Mozart's age had been right....These
qualities [Le nozze di] Figaro has to a great degree never again attained in
music, and it has moreover a profound humanity, a sympathetic penetration into
the hearts of men and women—especially women...[Le nozze di] Figaro is Italian[o]
comic opera in its final stages of perfection.... With all its overwhelming
perfection, [Le nozze di] Figaro still shows an almost disconcerting readiness
to use the current idiom of the time....But the next opera, the greatest of
all...Don Giovanni, makes a tremendous advance in achieving the originality
already, so to speak, at the fountainhead of inspiration....It is impossible to
conceive that any notion as here set down by Mozart could have come from the pen
of any other composer, then or later. What is more, not a single number in Don
Giovanni can be imagined to occur in any other opera by Mozart himself.
Everything is in character, everything colored [sic] by the particular mood into
which this great tragi-comic subject cast him....After Don Giovanni we are
magically transported into yet another world: that of Così fan tutte. Well,
scarcely a world at all; only a show of marionettes....Once again Mozart
achieved the miraculous feat of writing a score which, consistent in style from
start to finish, could not by any conceivable chance lend a single one of its
number to any other works of his. The whole perfume and flavor [sic] of the
music is new and unique. Artifice is the keynote of it.... "What Mozart wanted
was not declamation but spontaneous emotional expression, not grandly ordered
drama but the variety of life....That is why he was not in the least disturbed
by the hair-raising inconsistencies, the pantomime absurdities of The Magic
flute [Die Zauberflöte?] ....Here was a great deal of nonsense, but it was good
theatre, it was alive, and there was a multiformity of setting, of situation, of
character such as he had never before had occasion to handle...The variety of
The Magic flute [Die Zauberflöte?] score ought to be bewildering; somehow it is
only astonishing in a favorable [sic] sense....The music itself is much more
diversified than that of any opera of Mozart's....the flashy Italian[a] arias of
the Queen of the Night [Königin der Nacht?] next to Sarstro's solemn utterances
in Mozart's 'masonic' manner, the popular ditties of Popageno side by side with
the profound humanity of Pamina's tear-compelling G-minor lament and the
wonderful dramatic truth of her brief mad scene...all this and more is by some
marvel of genius fashioned into a single gem of many facts—and of inestimable
value." Edvard Grieg, the famous composer, has written an illuminating essay on
Mozart which is not widely known. In it, he has discussed Mozart's final
symphonies in the following manner: "We note at once the great step from Haydn's
to Mozart's treatment of this highest of instrumental forms, and our thoughts
are involuntarily transferred to the young Beethoven who, without any specially
noteworthy break, rises from where Mozart left off to those proud summits which
none but he was destined to reach. In the introduction of the E-flat major
symphony, just before the first allegro, we come upon harmonic combinations of
unprecedented boldness. They are introduced in so surprising a way that they
will always preserve the impression of novelty....In the G-minor symphony,
Mozart shows himself to us in all his grace and sincerity of feeling. It is
worth noting what astonishing effects he gets here by the use of chromatic
progressions. In the Jupiter symphony [Symphonie Nr.1 C major KV. 551] we are
astounded, above all, by the playful ease with which the greatest problems of
art are treated. No one who is not initiated suspects in the finale, amid the
humurous tone gambols, what an amazing contrapunal knowledge and superiority
Mozart manifests. And then this ocean of euphony! Mozart's sense of euphony was,
indeed, so absolute that it is impossible, in all his works, to find a single
bar wherein it is sacrificed to other considerations." Mozart was the greatest
composer who ever lived. There is no music happier, more complex, and perfect
than his anywhere to be found. If you do not believe me,
(click here) to listen to
Mozart's music, the music of Heaven.
MOZART AND HIS MASONIC MUSIC
by
Robert G. Davis
The period of history which
encompassed the Baroque, the Rococco, and the
Viennese Classical schools of music can be described as the Enlightenment Era.
In my thinking, this roughly spanned the 200 years of the 17th and 18th
Centuries.
It was a period of great
contributions in the arts. To give some examples, in its
early stages it was characterized by the Dutch school of painting, headed by
Rembrandt and Vermeer; the French artists Poussin and
Lebrun; the architect Christopher Wren; the writers Moliere, Racine, Milton,
Shakespeare, and Bacon; the composers Corelli, Vivaldi, Scarlatti, Pachabel,
Albinoni, Handel and Bach; the poets Goethe and Burns; the philosophers Kant,
Voltaire, Rousseau, and Diderot. And it ended with such musicians as Gluck,
C.P.E. Bach, J.C. Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Boccherini, Beethoven, and Schubert.
It was a period which gave us the
sonata, the suite, the rondeau (rondo), the
fugue, the concerto, the opera, the cantata, the art of improvisation, the
application of tonal rivalries between solo instruments, etc. It was a period
of enormous output, both in variation of composition and in virtuosity of
performance.
It was also a period of fertile
growth in Masonic philosophy and ritual. And
it was the time when much music was composed for the fraternity. During his
brief 7 years as a Mason (1784-1791), Brother Mozart brought his unsurpassed
gift of creativity and virtuosity to the fraternity in a series of
compositions which are still universally played and used in today's
ceremonies of Masonry. The spirit of the Enlightenment shines throught
Mozart's music, and this is nowhere as true, perhaps, as in his Masonic
music.
That music falls into three broad
categories--music he wrote specifically for
the lodge, music intended for the public built on Masonic ideas, and music he
wrote for other purposes, but which were adapted during his lifetime, either
by himself or others, for use in lodge. Lodges frequently held concerts for
charity, and Mozart wrote much music to be performed at those concerts.
As for the music Mozart wrote for
use in lodge, the most obvious question to
a non-Mason might be why music would be needed at all. The Masonic ritual
makes many provsions for music. The process of walking from one place to
another in the lodge room was and is often accompanied by music. Many such
"trips about the lodge" represent the passage of time, and in those cases,
music was especially appropriate. Music was also used before and after
prayer, and for entrances into the lodge. In England, it is still common to
sing the "closing ode" at the end of a lodge meeting.
The Blue Lodge of Freemasonry (the
original and
foundation of all other presently-practiced systems of the
Fraternity) is divided into three Degrees, or stages of
membership--the Entered Apprentice Degree, the Fellow Craft
Degree, and the Master Mason Degree.
The Fellow Craft Degree is
important in the story of Mozart's Masonic music
because he wrote one of his most beautiful Masonic works, Gesellenreise
(Fellow Craft's Journey) for the initiation of his father, Leopold Mozart, on
April 16, 1785.
To fully appreciate the music, it
is helpful to know a little about the
degree itself, and about the Masonic histories of both Leopold and Wolfgang.
The Fellow Craft Degree
represents, in terms of the stonemason's craft, the
status of Journeyman. In terms of Freemasonry, it represents manhood in its
full vigor and strength, as the first Degree represents youth and the third
Degree represents the wisdom and maturity of age.
The ritual of the Fellow Craft
Degree takes classical education as one of its
strongest symbols. The Mason receiving the Degree is reminded of the five
classic Orders of Architecture, as well as the seven Liberal Arts and
Sciences--Grammar, Rhetoric, Logic, Arithmetic, Geometry, Music and
Astronomy.
The instruction in the ritual
takes the form of the
ascent of winding stairs, with each step representing a new
acquisition of knowledge and insight. That ascent is the
Fellow Craft's journey.
It symbolizes more than mere
instruction, however. The journey is the journey
of life, which at this stage is a preparation for productive living as a
spiritual being. Its purpose is to help awaken the individual to his life not
just as an intelligent animal but as a mind--free and untrammeled--and as a
spirit, bound to all humanity by the Fatherhood of God. The lyrics selected
by Mozart for Gesellenreise include:
You, who now are risen higher
Unto Wisdom's high abode,
Wander steadfast higher, higher
Know, it is the noblest road.
Only spirit without blight
May approach the source of Light.
Even in this short passage, you
can see the elements of the Enlightenment and
of Masonry--the idea that both life and initiation was a journey of stages,
the idea of Light, and of drawing nearer to it. The search for wisdom and
understanding.
In the introduction to his book
Mozart and Masonry Paul Nettl writes,
". . . there is a Masonic secret, a mystery, an experience
that cannot be taught or explained because it lies, like
every mystic experience, beyond the realm of controlled
consciousness. At its deepest level it is identical with
intense feeling and empathy. The secret of Freemasonry is
the secret of experiencing true love for all mankind, a
positive attitude towards man and life, and broad
affirmation of God. It is the realization that beyond the
dark and material world there is a realm of light towards
which all men must strive."
It is this journey, this secret,
which Mozart
celebrated in music for his father.
Wolfgang Mozart was apparently
sponsored in his petition to join Masonry by
the Baron Otto Freiherr von Gemmingen-Hornberg, Master of Zur Wohltataigkeit
(Charity) Lodge. Mozart had met Gemmingen in Mannheim. His name was put
before the Lodge on December 5, 1784, and he appears to have received the
Entered Apprentice Degree on December 14. On January 7, 1785, he re ceived
the Fellow Craft Degree at
"Zur wahren Eintracht" (True Harmony) Lodge at the request of his home Lodge.
On April 22, he received the Master Mason Degree.
But Jacques Chailley, in The Magic
Flute Unveiled: Esoteric
Symbolism in Mozart's Masonic Opera, points out that
Mozart's association with Freemasonry long predated his
petition to the Fraternity. At the age of 11, Mozart set the
Masonic poem An die Freude to music and sent it as a gift to
Dr. Joseph Wolf who had treated him for smallpox. At 16, he
composed an aria on the words of the ritual hymn O heiliges
Band. At 17, he was selected by Gebler to compose the
incidental music for the Masonic drama Thamos (which he
revised in 1779).
Leopold Mozart, it was announced
in Wolfgang's Lodge on March 28, 1785, had
been proposed for membership. As Leopold was about to leave the city, a
dispensation to proceed more rapidly than usual was sought and obtained. On
April 6, he was initiated as an Entered Apprentice. On April 16, he was
passed to the Degree of Fellow Craft, with Wolfgang in attendance. On April
22, Leopold became a Master Mason. Two days later, father and son attended
the Lodge Zur gerkronten Hoffnung to honor the Lodge's Master, Ignaz Born.
Wolfgang composed a new cantata for the occasion (K.471). The day after the
concert, Leopold left for Salzburg. His son was never to see him again.
Mozart's Masonic Music is rich and
varied, but any listing is subject to
criticism. The simple reason is that music played a very important part in
Masonry. Music was used in the Degrees, performed at refreshment as
entertainment (which would have been an experience--Mozart's Lodge contained
some of the finest performers in Europe, and we know from minutes of the
Lodge meetings that they often sat around after Lodge had formally closed and
improvised into the small hours ofthe morning) and at special public
concerts, frequently given by the Lodges for charitable purposes. So we have
Masonic ritual music, music written for or adapted for entertainment at
Masonic functions, and music on Masonic themes, not intended for performance
in Lodge, some of which as we have seen, was written before he joined the
fraternity. The following listing (based on the work of Charles Tupper)
contains elements of all these, with notes showing their Masonic relevance.
Lied: An die Freude, K.53 (setting
of a Masonic text)
Psalm 129: De Profundis Clamavi
for mixed choir and orchestra K.93 (composed
in Salzburg in 1771 and later adapted to Freemasonic work by the composer)
Lied: O heiliges Band der
Freudschaft for tenor and Piano K.148 (composed in
1772 and adopted for Masonry; probably sung at refreshment)
Graduale ad Festum B.M.V.: "Sancta
Maria, mater Die for mixed choir and
orchestra K.273 (composed in 1777, it
was immediately added to the musical canon of the Lodge)
Incidental Music: Thamos Konig in
Agypten, K.345 (incidental music for a
play, the themes are heavily Masonic - considered a forerunner of The Magic
Flute)
Canonic Adagio for 2 bassett Horns
and Bassoon, K.410 (composed in 1784,
ritual procession music)
Adagio for 2 Clarinets and 3
Bassett Horns, K.411 (probably intended as a
processional entrance for the Lodge)
Cantata: "Dir, Seele des Weltalls,"
K.429 (composed for a public Masonic
celebration)
Gesellenreise: "Die ihr einem
neuen Grade," K.468 (composed for his father's
Fellow Craft Degree)
Cantata: Die Maurerfreude "Sehen
wie dem starren Forscherauge," K.471
(composed in April, 1785, to honor Ignaz von Born, Grand Master of the United
Lodges)
[According to the records of the
Lodge, Mozart wrote the music for two
additional songs during 1785--Des Todes Werk and Vollbracht ist die Arbeit
der Meister (The Work of Death and The Work of the Masters is
Finished)--which have been lost]
Maurerissche Trauermusik (Masonic
Funeral Music) K.477 (written for the
memorial services commemorating the deaths of Mozart's brother Masons Duke
George August of Mecklenburg-Strelitz and Count Franz Veith Edler von
Galantha in November, 1785, and performed in a Lodge of Sorrows)
Piano Concerto in Eb Major, K.482
(written for and performed at a concert
given by the Lodge Zur gekronten Hoffnung, December 15, 1785)
Song: Zerfliesset Heut, Geliebte
Bruder," K.483 (written to
welcome newly-formed Lodges)
Song: "Ihr unsre neuen Leiter,"
K.484 (written to welcome the newly elected
Grand Master of the United Lodges)
Symphony #39 in Eb, K.543 (written
as a celebration of the Craft and the joy
of living {see Alfred Einstein's notes on the Masonic significance of the
work})
Adagio and Fugue in C Minor, K.546
(not originally written for the Masonic
canon, it was quickly adopted by the Lodges)
Adagio and Rondo for Flute, Oboe,
Viola, Cello, and Celesta, K.617 (written
while Mozart was working on The Magic Flute and performed at refreshment in
Lodge)
Motet: Ave Verum Corpus, K.618
(originally written
for Anton Stoll's choir school at Baden, the work was
quickly adopted for Lodge use)
Cantata: "Die ihr des
unermesslichen Weltalls Schopfer ehrt," K.619 (during
Mozart's last year, he paused during composition of The Magic Flute, La
Clemenza di Tito and the Requiem to compose this piece at the request of his
Lodge.)
Cantata: "Kleine Freimaurerkantate"
(little Masonic cantata) K.623 (written
for the dedication of the Lodge Zur neugekronten Hoffnung)
Chorus: "Lasst uns mit geschlungen
Handen" K.623b (written as part of the
same dedication service as above)
Opera: "Die Zauberflote" (The
Magic Flute) K.620
Mozart died at fifty-five minutes
past midnight, on December 5, 1791. The
Masons held a Lodge of Sorrows in his memory, and the oration there delivered
was printed by Ignez Alberti, a member of Mozart's own Lodge, who had
published the first libretto of Die Zauberflote.
|
