This page is dedicated to some of Mozart's most intriguing late
instrumental works: the two tremendous F minor ‘Fantasias’
K.594
and K.608
composed for mechanical organ or Flötenuhr. The designation
Fantasias is chosen here because it has of old been tagged onto the
second piece already, but both tripartite works might as well be
called ‘Overtures’ or ‘Partitas:’ in fact
they fit into no established genre at all.
The K.594 piece was commissioned in 1790 by a mr. Müller—formerly Joseph count Deym von Stritez, who had left Vienna due to a duel where he killed his opponent and had recently returned under an alias. Mozart probably met him through the sculptor Leonhard Posch, author of the 1788 wax relief alongside, who also worked for the Müller'schen Kunstkabinett founded by Deym. In this ‘multimedia’ exhibition gallery wax figures of an exotic or heroïc nature were displayed, while ‘musical clocks’ or player-organs provided atmosphere.
Among other things, there were a pyramid with chiming-clock, a singing mechanical canary, two waxen flute-playing boys in Spanish clothing, a life-size lady en negligée sitting at a player-piano, and even a Bedroom of the Graces, which according to an eye-witness was a voyeuristic, semi-erotic display featuring a young girl sleeping on a bed, mellowly lit by alabaster lamps and watched over by Venus herself, the whole brightened by ‘a glorious flute music, as though inspired by the breath of love… It is an Adagio by the unforgettable Mozart.’ Was this perhaps a mechanical version of the yearning, ethereal C major Adagio K.356(617a) for glass harmonica? Haselböck options for K.616, the third of Mozart's pieces for Flötenuhr, a fittingly galant F major Andante. Under the genial, richly embellished rococo surface flows an urgent, near-agitated undercurrent, well exposed in the mean-tone version presented here.
Müller-Deym showed himself to be a man with a knack for both Eros and Thanatos. Displayed together with youthful beauty moulded in immobile wax, there were death-masks—he possessed that of emperor Joseph II and was soon to take Mozart's too—and commemorative monuments, dedicated to prominents who had recently died. On the 26th of march 1791 the Wiener Zeitung announced that mr. Müller had opened to the public at nr.1355 Himmelpfortgasse (Heaven's gate alley) his mausoleum dedicated to the memory of field-marshal Gideon von Laudon, conqueror of Belgrade, who had died in july 1790:
‘Splendidly illuminated from eight in the morning till ten o'clock at night…, the sight of it will not fail to surprise everyone who visits this mausoleum and thereby renews the memory of this great and meritorious man… The seats are arranged in the best possible way and one pays fl.1 each for a first rank place, but only xr.30 at second rank. Upon the stroke of each hour a funeral musique will be heard, and every week it will be different. This week's composition is by Herr Kapellmeister Mozart.’
The scene consisted of the field-marshal's waxen effigy encased
in a glass coffin, displayed in a neo-classical mausoleum surrounded
by mourners. The music, all lush sonority and specially designed to
heighten the tombeau-effect, was produced by a clockwork
driven, cylinder operated organ within the structure.
Mozart probably accepted Deym’s commission in september 1790, shortly before leaving for Frankfurt, where he hoped to take advantage of the festivities on the coronation of Leopold II. That he could hardly set himself to the task, is evident from a letter to Constanze of 3 october:
‘I had made up my mind to write the Adagio for the clockmaker right away and slip a few ducats in my dear wife's hands; I did start—but unfortunately, because I hate the job, I wasn't able to finish it.—I write some every day—but have to postpone as I get bored—and surely, if there wasn't such an important reason to force myself, I would certainly leave off;— yes, if it were a large clock, and the thing would sound like a true organ, then it might be fun; but as it is, the work consists solely of little pipes, which sound high-pitched and too childish for my taste.’
King considered the contradiction between the composers aversion and the magnificent opus handed down to us as ‘a notable triumph of mind over matter.’ The sound of the medium antipathetic to him, Mozart supposedly reverted to a sublime absolute music stance: the central section of K.594 a brilliant contrapuntal Allegro, racing by in a buoyant gallop, the framing lamento Adagio characterized by a sustained chromatic pathos that is remarkably advanced for its date.
However, it is tempting to believe that Mozart didn't write that much at all while away, and after returning home in mid-november—perhaps the nine bar D minor sketch K.Anh.35(593a) was all he could actually show,—rather than restraining himself, he persuaded Deym to obtain a larger instrument instead, preferably fitted with low sounding stopped pipes. Obviously, the marvellous notes of K.594 bear witness to renewed relish and gusto.
Nr.121 in Mozart's worklist, Ein Stück für ein Orgelwerk in einer Uhr, a piece for an organwork in a clock, was entered late 1790, flanked by two of his most ravishing works, the D major string quintet K.593 and B flat major piano concerto K.595. The next months there followed some songs and a couple of dozen court-dances, then on 3 march 1791 Mozart registered another ‘machine composition:’ the fiery K.608, Ein Orgel Stück für eine Uhr, an organ piece for a clock. ‘A grand prelude in which a grupetto figure is punctuated by crashing chords… leads to one of the most convincing fugues Mozart ever wrote; a tender and dignified slow movement follows… and then the fugue returns with a new countersubject and a more climactic build, as becomes the final section of a great work.’ (Hutchings)
Though there is no direct evidence, K.608 is believed also to be commissioned by Deym for use in his Panoptikum. Haselböck suggests that it had its première on occasion of the re-opening of Müller's gallery in mid-august 1791. For years to come, the Flötenuhr-pieces with their stunning display of superhuman mechanical virtuosity continued to amaze visitors. From a 1799 description of the ‘Viennese art gallery established by mr. court-statuarian Müller’ it is clear that at least one of Mozart's compositions was still in use:
‘Every hour an apposite funeral music is heard, composed by the unforgettable Mozart himself, lasting eight minutes and in precision and purity surpassing anything that was ever attempted to suit this kind of artistic product.’
For whatever reason, it seems that Deym finally had the instrument dismantled: in 1801, Landon states, two of the Mozart cylinders were possessed by Haydn's friend Primitivus Niemecz; after that, they were traceless. By that time however, the music had already appeared in print. Four-hand keyboard arrangements of K.594 and K.608 were first issued respectively in 1800—by the Leipzig firm of Breitkopf & Härtel—and 1799 by Johann Traeg of Vienna. Mozart's autographs are both lost, only early nineteenth century four-stave transcriptions are extant.
Because the Fantasias weren't devised for human execution, they are very difficult even for four hands to play. It is hard to avoid dragging at places, and a general sense of strain seems inevitable. So I seized them in a more authentic vein: with no Flötenuhr at my disposal, I decided to imitate the characteristics of a mechanical instrument by encoding the pieces for play-back over a sound card capable of simple OPL3 FM-synthesis. Without a hitch, the timer ticks out the notes, the silicon sings in its ringing voice of brass 'n' beaten strings—favouring crisp & clear contrapuntal interplay. As a bonus, the pieces are recorded in 1/6 comma mean-tone temperament, still in use for tuning organs in Mozart's day.
Click with right mouse button, choose Save Link Target As…
and open after download has finished. You'll need Winamp
(and preferably a set of quality headphones) to listen to this music.
Mirror site (auf deutsch)
This site has an annex: Electrifying Mozart.
references:
